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egoistars · 2 months ago

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HIT BRAKE! sae itoshi

(Sae needs to practice his goals and you… driving)

~3.8k words, humor, fluff, angst if you grab a magnifying glass, use of soccer instead of football (i have too much pride to do that), theyre so polar opposite they unfortunately come full circle and match each others freak

Sae Itoshi returned to Japan with several new things under his belt:

The ability to speak spanish (although his grammar structure can use some help from time to time)

An insane growth spurt

Probably shell shock syndrome

And the scariest new update to a chronic Resting Bitch Face that you had the displeasure of seeing thrown your way when you accidentally ran over his ball driving home. Maybe this is why most Japanese people rely on public transport instead of using their licenses

TWO was the number of times you had failed your driver’s test. Yes, you could always use the bus or ask your friends for a ride, but college doesn’t start for another few weeks and you’re determined by pure stubbornness to be driver certified before starting school. You think you’re doing pretty good so far: no accidents, no being pulled over, no getting cursed, and no one loudly complaining about your skills (no one has trusted you to drive them). The only thing you had left to master was parallel parking.

It was a legacy in your family to be horrible at city parking.

One of your earliest memories was in the backseat of a rental car in a foreign country while your mother tried to park on the side of the street, only to get honked at by cars and drive against the flow of vehicles in a one-way zone.

A bag of groceries lie in the trunk of your car as you drive to your family’s home. Humming along to the song softly playing through the radio, you slow down as you near the residential area, confident that this drive will end without a single thing gone wrong. Without speaking, you jinx your thoughts as you jolt when your car goes over a bump and a loud wheeze follows it. Turning your head to the side, your entire body freezes and your eyes go wide upon seeing the pissed off glare of Sae Itoshi, the infamous Japanese soccer player who just returned from Spain with a sexy tan.

With a shaky hand, you roll down your window and immediately start tumbling over your rushed apologies. You don’t even understand what you’re saying but you hope that Itoshi somehow understands. When he doesn’t react, which is what you expected but it hurts nonetheless, you immediately shut up and tumble out of your car before getting on your knees and seeing what you ran over.

Your hand reaches and pulls out a deflated soccer ball, the entire thing flat with a large hole on the side from when it got run over by your car. You almost feel inclined to inflate it with the tears that are about to spill out of your eyes but the only realistic and socially acceptable choice was to give it to Itoshi and once again, apologize but with words that he and the average person can understand.

Itoshi mumbles a “it’s okay” before taking the ball (can you even call it that?) a once-over. “I have more at home, I’ll just throw it out.”

“Holy shit I’m so sorry about that I can buy you a new one just please don’t sue me I can’t afford a good lawyer, I’m in student loan debt.”

“...why would I sue you?” he asks, his face slightly scrunched up in confusion. It’s not much different from his normal expression, just a slight crease of his brows but it makes all the difference.

“I didn’t mean to assume that you’re gonna sue me, please don’t sue me for assuming!” You think that you should begin to pack your bags and take out a loan to move to another country. It would be easier to be a criminal than to deal with a conversation with a guy who multiplies your humiliation. “I just thought that you might get your super prestigious and rich and wealthy and prosperous and exquisitely-copious-in-currency soccer team on my ass ‘cause I ran over one of their balls,” you nervously rambled. Your face heats up at every word and one Itoshi divides into two Itoshis and two Itoshis split into four.

“Are you schizophrenic? I thought you were normal back in middle school,” sixty-eight Itoshis say in unison.

Your body freezes, the now one hundred twenty-eight Itoshis all morphing back into one. “Wait, we went to middle school together?”

“Uh, yeah,” he blinks, this time looking even more awkward than you. “We were in the same class for two years straight and I sat next to you the semester before I left. I think I would remember the kid who slept through each period but still got all the answers right when called on.”

“Oh!” You perk up at the recollection of a scrawny red-haired boy from five years ago, one who would try to not-so-discreetly look at your worksheet answers and peek at your notes during class. “You’re the boy who would always copy off my work. I do remember you!”

“Is that all you remember about me?” If Itoshi were any other person, you’d say he looked uncomfortable but all he did was tilt his head a little more to the left and shift on his feet.

“I mean, the only reason why you remember me is ‘cause I saved your academics without even knowing. Don’t think I didn’t hear our teacher whispering ‘good job’ to you while returning our tests and how you suddenly moved up in our class rankings.”

“Well you didn’t bother to hide anything when you were snoozing away so whose fault really is it?”

“You were gonna leave for Spain, anyway!” you point out, remembering being pissed off when hearing the reason why your seatmate left was because he was some kind of sport prodigy, basically having his entire future as a star secured at the age of thirteen.

“My parents would’ve killed me and held me by my feet if I flunked.” Itoshi grimaced, kissing his teeth and brushing his hair back as it had fallen over his eyes. His cheeks had returned to its usual color, removing the red flush of running and exhaustion.

“Huh, I guess I should be credited for your success. Spain should thank me.”

“Are we forgetting that I’m the one who plays the sport?” Sae’s voice came out harsher than he intended and cut through the playful atmosphere by the first syllable. His demeanor appeared unchanged but he felt himself tense.

Conversation had never been strong for Sae, only ever talking when he needed to and the most of his words going to his teammates on the field or his little brother. His success was a sensitive subject whether he liked to admit it or not. Spain served as an eye-opener to the teenage boy, being left in a country where no one looked like you and no one spoke your language. The only thing he could rely on was a translator he barely trusted and the expressions of the people around him.

When you don’t respond, Sae observes your face, noticing how you began to fidget with your fingers just as you had when you first stepped out of the car. You weren’t his previous coaches; you were just a former classmate who he happened to run into, or rather, you drove into. It was too late to laugh and he felt slightly guilty at freaking out someone that wasn’t his brother, an opponent, or a bothersome news anchor.

“If you want to repay me for the ball, meet me at the sports store nearby.”

“Sorry, but I don’t really know where you’re talking about,” you sheepishly reply, wanting to sink more into the ground with every word. You decide that talking to athletes is more tiring than playing an actual sport.

“Give me your number, I’ll send you the address.”

You hand him your phone, hoping he doesn’t comment on the horrendously cracked screen protector that you had been telling yourself to replace for months. At the same time, you also want him to notice the small possibility of him offering to buy you a new one, taking advantage of rich people or whatever. “I can pick you up if you don’t mind.”

“Should I trust you to drive me?” he asks, carefully looking between you and your car with his turquoise eyes as if analyzing his opponents on a field, only, this was a residential street and the only other player was a balding middle aged man walking his dog.

“I mean, you’ll be my first passenger so you can find out for everyone else.”

“If I get into an accident I’ll sue you for real.”

“I’ll try not to, I don’t have a job anymore and I’m going to college soon so even if I do please be merciful I swear I have good intentions.”

“Pick me up tomorrow at 11 and I’ll give you a review,” he decides, handing over his phone with the contact ‘Sae Itoshi’ at the top of your phone and the name of a sports store sent to your conversation. You ponder for a moment about asking for a contact picture but you’d like to stay alive for at least one more day so you bid him farewell and sit back in the driver’s seat, hoping he doesn’t hate your taste in music when you turn the radio back on.

—

The Itoshi residence is rather normal, differing from your expectation of a lavish mansion with fountains and fences of gold, given that Sae was a famous athlete and his younger brother Rin was known throughout the prefecture for being a mini Sae. The previous night when you had just finished brushing your teeth, your phone screen illuminated with the presence of a new notification: a text from the older Itoshi.

>make sure you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow

>i’ll need to try each ball out

>you did this to yourself

>shitty driver

A jolt of pain had struck your pride, crumbling your ego at the realization that he was, unfortunately, right about needing to sacrifice your entire afternoon to babysit a (grown) stranger whom you haven’t talked to in years; those conversations were brief, lacking any substance to consider them actual conversations. For a moment, the thought of bailing on him had crossed your mind, the idea of leaving him stranded at his residence while you enjoyed a night in, marinating before a tumultuous college career seemed insatiably tempting.

Disaster struck when you Googled Sae Itoshi’s net worth, his bank account leading you right to his front doorstep.

“Don’t get into any car accidents,” Sae told you as he dipped his head down to step into the passenger’s side of your car. You were suddenly struck with a moment of insecurity; a wealthy athlete who could probably buy your family and your ancestor’s mummified corpses is sitting in your car and is probably rich enough to get away with murdering you for having half a particle of dust fall onto his lap.

You realized you zoned out when Sae cleared his throat, blinking a few times at you with an unamused expression and eyebrows furrowed in judgment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, man. Just trying to remember the name of the place you mentioned. It’s a technique I use where if I think really hard in the same place I was when I thought of that thought, that thought I had thought of can reappear in my thoughtless mind.” You aren’t sure if you understand what you’re saying but you think you can get away with spouting bullshit if you use enough hand movements like a person on TedTalk.

“What the actual fuck are you saying?” Sae doesn’t seem to believe you but you’re an innovator—you simplify the problem down to something the average person (underling) can understand.

“Can you give me the address again..?”

“You’re a freak.”

Sae picks up your phone, which was opened to the navigator app, and quickly typed in the name of the sporting good’s shop he had mentioned the day before. It was a small place, smaller than you would expect a star athlete to go to for equipment but you suppose it makes sense at the same time: less people, less paparazzi, less crazed fans, and a selection of items picked specifically for trained athletes.

“So, uh, are you gonna make me pay for the ball too ‘cause I’m at least, like, five yen in student loan debt,” you sheepishly ask, hoping Sae can appreciate your humility in being a college student, taking a step forward in life by pursuing a higher education.

“How cheap are you?” Sae scoffs, letting out a sound that started off as half of a chuckle but ended as a constipated grunt, making him sound like a diseased lab-grown goat that was raised by war-stricken alien society. You think Sae should become an experimental musical artist if soccer doesn’t work out, sorta like a fucked up version of Björk who’s slightly less musically talented and a total cunt instead.

“I’m not cheap! I’m just curious. I brought my credit card just in case. I’m a responsible adult; this is all for budgeting and logging my payments or whatever else people do to save money.”

“You’re lucky you’re funny,” Sae comments as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world. For you though, you almost stepped on the breaks and begged him to repeat what he said. It would have been just another condescending compliment from anyone else but Sae Itoshi is notorious for not humoring anyone in the media and you quickly realized, even those in real life. Before you could doubt your memory, Sae opens his mouth again. “You lucked out on pretty privilege. All the bullshit you say would not slide if it came from any other person. I’m convinced the only social experience you have is talking to a mud wall.”

Any negative statement he had made went through one ear and directly out the other, keeping only the compliments for your brain to process. Without noticing, a giddy smile appeared on your face and to Sae, it was wildly masochistic the way you tolerated his foul personality and even relishing in his attention—no matter good or bad. He could almost pity you, deducing your attitude as a lack of self respect, but you somehow manage to surprise him every time.

“Nah, I think I had a lot of friends. I don’t know if we were actually friends but I knew their names so it’s probably good enough. Speaking of, there was this guy named Kota who I knew when I was seven and he seemed pretty cool until I caught him picking at his feet in the middle of class. Sometimes I wonder how he’s doing and if he’s still collecting foot gunk. But yeah, I think you’re just self projecting with the whole ‘no people, only soccer’ thing and moving to Spain with zero spanish skills. Damn, wait, that’s kinda sad. Shit, now I feel bad,” you take a look at Sae, searching for any sort of discomfort or offense but he simply shrugged.

“It’s whatever, they all bothered me anyways. I was there to play soccer, not make lifelong friends. It’s not like I’m gonna stay in Spain forever. I’m back in Japan to renew my passport ‘cause I know I’m gonna come back eventually.”

“You’ve already made a name for yourself and you’re making insane money that can last more than a lifetime for the average person once your contract is over. It’s not gonna be long before you get onto the Olympic team for Japan. When you do make it on, you better thank me for making sure you kept on playing by bringing you to buy a replacement for a ball I ran over.”

You drove into a parking lot with two other cars directly in front of the sports shop. The building was in the middle of a small plaza, adjacent to an udon shop and a bar. It was undoubtedly an odd place for a sports shop to be and that might have been what caught Sae’s eye in the first place. In the window display, a tennis racket and a pair of soccer cleats are put on display and on the glass door, countless advertisements for events and brands are taped on, each barely correlating to the others.

Right in the corner of the shop is the checkout where an elderly man sits, scribbling something in a beaten journal. There is a stack of newspapers behind him, every issue marked with highlighted annotations and then neatly folded as if it were untouched. Sae greeted the man and turned to find someone else, this time, being a younger man who appeared to be in his thirties or forties. He gave Sae a warm smile and shook his hand, not as a business partner, but as an acquaintance.

It’s here that you realize you’ll never be able to see the world the way Sae does. In your car he was just another boy in your neighborhood that you decided to get to know. But to others, he was Sae Itoshi, a prodigy who could conquer the world with just himself and a pair of cleats. Although his eyes are dimmed and his apathy anything but silent, his shine was lost to know one and when he boards a plane back to Spain while you settle into college, you think you’d be content calling him a shooting star.

Sae notices that you stopped following him and turns around in confusion, tilting his head to motion you to follow him. It takes a breath before you put your hands in the pocket of your jacket and tentatively follow him. It wasn’t until you walked into the store that you truly realized how out of place you felt and if it were just you and Sae, you might’ve thought to ask him what everything did. He’d call you a dense fuck and tell you that he plays soccer, that he doesn’t deal with anything else. You had even the smallest bit of shame so you kept your mouth shut and continued to trail after him, stealing glances at the stacked shelves until the employee came to a halt.

Before you was a wall, lined with four shelves of nothing but soccer balls, each decorated with the signatures of different brands and their series’.

“The guy said I can try them out in the back.” Sae tapped your shoulder and grabbed onto the fabric of your jacket, dragging you with him like a pet cat. “They have a lot of empty space there. You can help me carry everything I want to try.”

Agreeing turned out to be a mistake. In your arms you struggled to carry six different balls, with Sae dribbling one between his feet as the owner of the stop unlocked the door to the back where Sae would be testing things out. You felt like an overworked butler from some bad comic and in your head, you imagined yourself as a fainting princess—a damsel in distress being overworked by the evil kingdom in which she is supposed to be respected.

“Stop being dramatic,” Sae sighed, noticing your dejected pout and lost eyes. He could almost pity you if you didn’t look comically pathetic in the moment, almost adorable if he wanted to be slightly sentimental. “You can put them all down now. Just sit here and wait. Take a nap or something, you’ll be fine.”

The lack of standards you have would be an issue to address at a later date because the barely comforting words of the ever eloquent motivational speaker Sae Itoshi had you immediately perking up and cheering for him.

“Go! Go! You got this! Get that goal, ugly!”

“Who are you calling ugly? I could knock you out with this ball, you know. If you want to be supportive, don't be a freak.”

“Are you really gonna disrespect the only fan you have at the moment? What if I tweet about this and get you canceled or some shit?”

“Do you really think I care about that?”

“...no…”

“...”

“Whatever. Do what you want.”

“Kick that ball, little boy! You’re a prodigy! Number one soccer player in the world! Bend that net over!”

—

By the time Sae had finished shooting several goals and alternating dribbling between them at least five times, the sun had set and your throat was sore from bullshit cheering, half of which were incoherent sounds of moral support. Sae grabbed an unopened box of the ball he had chosen and denied a pump when offered one. When he placed the cardboard packaging onto the checkout table, your wallet was in your hand and ready to check out and pay off your debt to the Itoshi.

However, you were met with a receipt in your hand instead and a farewell from the owner, bidding you and Sae a happy rest of your day. You quickly turned your head toward Sae, mouth agape as your brain twitched, trying to process if he was fucking with you or not.

“Do you want me to pay you online or write a check or what? Wait, why did you pay? I thought I owed you it? My complaining earlier was all joking. I literally popped your old ball. The least I can do is pay for a new one!” You rant, quickly taking your phone out of your bag to open up your banking app but Sae was quicker to take your hand in his and bring it down to where it was before.

“And I was fucking with you too, dumbass. Or are you too stupid to remember back in the car how I didn’t respond to you asking if you needed to pay? Start listening, will you?”

“I think this is the meanest act of generosity I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not being generous, I’m telling you that you owe me something else.”

“What the fuck?” You’re perplexed by the audacity of this man. You hope his athletic career flops and every brand deal that he has gotten offered drops him. “Are you gonna start charging me an insane amount of interest like a loan shark? Dude, aren’t you rich?”

“I’m not asking for money.”

“Then what is it?”

“Go on a date with me.”

“Are you being for real right now?” You’re still perplexed by the audacity of this man. You’re perplexed by how his words are chosen to form the most foul sentences with sweet meanings. You’re perplexed by how out of all who know him, and all whom he knows, he would take an interest in you. But you’re a selfish person—if Sae Itoshi is offering his beauty and his awful personality to you, then you’ll take it with all your heart.

You move to Sae’s side, putting everything in your hands into your bag and intertwining your fingers with his, a dumb smile planted on your face. As you skip to the car and swing your hands between the two of you, Sae Itoshi’s grin is highlighted by the golden glow of the setting sun.

He really can’t wait to come home.

#itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #blue lock x reader #blue lock sae #blue lock itoshi sae #bllk sae #bllk itoshi sae #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk #blue lock #blue lock fluff #this fic is my farm fed organic almond baby

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nofingjustaninchident · 7 months ago

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hi, I’m not great at requesting things but if this makes sense could you write a high school au where Jason is a football player. I think it would be cute cause he’s definitely tall enough and strong enough but then add in him being kind and wow he would make the BEST high school football player boyfriend. Thank you

⛧° Jason Grace x Nerdy! Reader hcs °⛧

content: jason grace x reader, college au!

warnings: cursing, allusions to sexual stuff (not much tho), stupidtly fluffy and corny.

a/n: bby if i tell you i dreamt about this, would you believe me? like, i swear to all the gods, i dreamt with this and woke up thinking about writing it… well, here ya go. oh, and i also made her a brazilian, i hope you don’t mind? if you do, just ignore it, please 🫡

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

Of course, he’s a great football player.

Like, i know no shit about football, i’m a soccer girly, but he’s the best quarterback in the city. like, he’s really really good.

And obviously everyone believes he’s such an asshole and a womanizer.

But in reality he’s so so nice

Sure, he sleeps with some girls and all, but not as much as his teammates.

He’s also the only jock that sticks with a girlfriend. Not for long, but still more than the other guys ig

So when he was having trouble with maths, he needed a tutor, cause he had to have a back up plan of he didn’t went for the pros

Such a nice boy, fr.

And he went talk with the teacher to ask who could teach him.

And that’s when he found you.

You weren’t exactly a super nerd. You just liked to study.

But you had a lot of friends, since being the only exchange student did bring this sort of popularity around the university.

And when he first came to you, you were kinda bitchy.

You know, you had a bit of hatred towards football players. No idea why, it was just there.

Even with that, you were too kind-hearted to don’t tutor him.

And when you got to know each other… you kinda started liking him.

On your first study session, the library was too full, so you went to the outside

Which was really working out, till Jason found a little bird that probably fell from his nest

The guy was so worried that he almost took the bird home

He would’ve done it if you didn’t stop him

But he found the nest and put the little bird back there

And you just stood there, like “what the fuck? isn’t he supposed to be a douche?”

It happens that he’s not.

And you became pretty good friends with the frequent study sessions and all.

Not to mention he was pretty offended when you told him you didn’t like football.

And you were very offended when he asked if the spoke Spanish in Brazil.

He knew it didn’t, he just did it to piss you off.

He really wanted you to go to one of his games, but you never said you were really going.

So, one day, when his team was having a match against Harvard University, he was more than surprised to see you at the stands, right in the front.

With his jersey. With his number and name on your back.

He honestly felt he was gonna cry right then and there.

He got so happy he made a touchdown. They won.

And you were there, cheering for him and pretending like you understand anything that was going on there.

When the game ended, he came rushing towards you.

“Congrats, Gra-“ Before you could even finish your sentence, he kissed you.

Oh, and it was heaven.

After this, you started dating and it was the best thing you ever experienced.

He was such a gentleman.

Doors? Don’t even touch that. Dates? He’s paying, duh. You’re tired? He’ll carry you, bridal style.

You get the point.

You started liking football because of him. And he started liking soccer because of you.

a/n: i don’t know what to feel about this lol. idk what you’ll think of the brazilian thing, but if you don’t like it, i’ll remake it, promise!

#postcards from leah #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x you #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo hoo toa #pjo #football

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leveloneandup · 5 months ago

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Christen Press on returning to soccer following ACL tear, season three of The RE—CAP podcast

Christen Press, the all-time leading goal scorer in Stanford history, has starred for club and country since graduating in 2010. With the USWNT, she has won two World Cups and scored 64 international goals. Press has played overseas professionally, including a stint at Manchester United, as well as in the NWSL with the Chicago Red Stars, Utah Royals and currently with Angel City FC.

After tearing her ACL in June 2022, Press required four surgeries and an arduous recovery. She returned to her first training session on Tuesday, after which she spoke to SBJ about her rehab and the new season of her podcast. Along with Tobin Heath, Megan Rapinoe and Meghan Klingenberg, Press founded a media and lifestyle brand called RE—INC in 2019. She and Heath are the co-hosts of the RE—CAP podcast, which returns for its third season on Thursday. The first episode includes appearances by USWNT legend Abby Wambach and author and podcast host Glennon Doyle.

On returning to the pitch . . .

I am currently in the car driving home from my first training. I would say the road to recovery happens very slow, and then yet it happens all at once. I have been back in the team environment for almost four months. So it's been a long time that I've been integrated into the environment, and it took four months for me to get ready to be in a warmup and a passing pattern — really simple, basic stuff. And I felt very ready for it. I felt almost underwhelmed by how easy it was because I've done a lot more complicated things, and yet it was also entirely overwhelming and joyful to be so connected to my teammates and be celebrated in the way that I have been these last two days.

I'm very grateful for that. They say it's the hope that kills you, and as I drive home, I just have this big smile on my face because I can't help it. I can't help hoping. I can't help believing that I'm going to make it back, and it's going to be everything that I see in my head. I'm relentlessly optimistic, I'm naively positive, and I like that about myself, and I'm not I don't intend to change it. I think the way that it left me feeling was just like, yes, I can do this.

On monitoring her rehab . . .

I'm a person of devices, so I have quite a toolkit, I'd say, of ways that we're tracking and measuring. The truth is we're really still working through issues with my knee, and I have chronic scarring of the knee, so I can experience some discomfort and some swelling that could lead to more scarring, which is incredibly rare, because most people don't scar after a couple months after their surgery. I'm now over nine months for my surgery and still at risk of scarring. So it just means that I have to try very carefully with how much impact my knee can take.

We're being careful, but we're progressing. In terms of my overall fitness, what my GPS has said is that I've got to like 60% of a match load, which is all that I really need to get in terms of volume. And yet, in the warmup and the passing pattern today, it felt like I played a 90-minute game. I was so fatigued. There's training, and then there’s really training. There's no way to get fit for football, except for playing football. And I've done a ton of running, I've done a ton of lifting, and now it's time to play.

On how deep she gets into data . . .

My performance staff would laugh because they said they've never worked with a player that cares so much. So right now, I wear a Polar Watch that I was given in like 2015 from the national team. It's just old school. And I wear my Apple Watch, which is connected to my GPS so I can see all my data live, from heart rate to distance to speed to all that. And then I do sleep with an Oura ring — although I'm not endorsing any of these products, I'm not connected to any of these products — but I do sleep with an Oura ring and track my sleep and my stress levels.

On season three of the podcast . . .

Our show really is about authenticity, and it's about creating a more inclusive space for sports and including diversity of perspective. And so that means we have hard conversations, and we have honest conversations and we have vulnerable conversations, and we have a lot of fun — the same spirit and joy that you saw last year during the World Cup edition of the show. We're back, and we're bigger than ever.

On the origin of the creating the podcast . . .

I never thought I would be in media. I think that's even more true of Tobin. There's two typical paths for athletes after soccer, and it’s coaching and broadcast. ‘So Christen, do you want to be a coach?’ ‘No.’ ‘So Christen, then you must want to be a broadcaster? I was like, ‘No.’

That's an interesting part of the story, but first and foremost, we decided to launch this show as current and active players, and that's unique and different. It's not really a stepping-back-from-soccer thing. It's current players trading stories and having a little bit more space to dictate the narrative.

And then secondly, we really approach this as business leaders. This is our business, this is our company. We are a 3C company: content, community and commerce. The most amazing thing about women's sports is the community, and we're trying to build the coolest women's sports community in the world in our membership, and we're feeding that with amazing content.

And I think because we have such an authentic and vulnerable relationship with our audience that we've developed over the last five years that we've been building this business, it made sense for Tobin and I to be our first piece of content that was really more large scale and more widely accessible. But the plan will be to find like-minded people that sit at the intersection of sports, progress and equity, to continue to hear stories from an insider's perspective. It really disrupts the industry in that way.

On topics they plan to cover in season three . . .

We're going to be talking about women's health, particularly in sport, which is obviously a really hot topic, and representation in sport — how we make it more diverse and equitable for more people, be it across the gender spectrum, the orientation spectrum, across different races and classes. I think that's incredibly important. Soccer in America is an upper-middle class sport, and almost everywhere else in the world, it's a very accessible sport that's found on the street. That's really the spirit of football, so that's really important to us.

On the role of athletes as activists . . .

The interesting thing about the community that surrounds women's sports in particular is they care about a lot more than the sports, and the values transcend beyond the pitch. And that's about diversity, inclusion, progress. And I think that's just inherent because it is disruptive in itself to see women embodied, powerful, unapologetic and also very celebrated the way that you do in the professional sports world today. The people that it's drawing in are the same people that want to march, and they want to create change and they want to stand up for what they believe in.

It's so embodied in the Angel City culture. The professional team that I play for has just nailed it. And when you're in the stadium, it's electric, and win or lose, it's a different type of vibe than any other sports arena I've been in because there's a connection point for all of the audience. They care about more than the X's and O's. They care about what we represent to them, the progress and the opportunity that we as women athletes represent.

On the versatility of women athletes . . .

It's always been that way in women's sports, and it's just becoming more popularized. I think the expectation is that we would always be multifaceted as women and expected to do multiple jobs in multiple roles, if we were going to have careers. And so it really did take to me and my personality to be a player and also be a leader off the field, on the US women’s national team, going through the Equal Pay lawsuit, going through the reestablishment of our players association.

For me, it was such a balancing sense of purpose that I continue to create space in my life for that, and I think that's what we've done with our business, RE—INC. RE—INC is reimagined, incorporated. We set out, in 2019 when we started this company, to reimagine the status quo, to reimagine the way women are seen and experienced in sports. And it's a very bold and ambitious goal, and we do it in a multifaceted way. And I'm really, really proud of that.

#christen press #angel city fc #article #interview

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

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Usually held in the two weeks after the Olympic Games in the same host city, the Paralympics showcase the best athletes with physical disabilities from around the world competing for their home countries. (The Paralympics are not to be confused with the Special Olympics, which feature athletes with intellectual disabilities.) This year, the Summer Paralympics will take place from August 28 to September 8 in Paris, France.

Quick history lesson: The origins of the Paralympics began shortly after World War II, during the 1948 London Olympics, where 16 wheelchair-using veterans participated. The first official Paralympic Games took place in Rome in 1960 and featured 400 athletes from 23 countries. Since then, the Games have taken place every four years and now feature 4,400 athletes in 22 sports (the Olympics have 32), with 549 gold medals up for grabs.

There are athletes competing from 177 countries (this year’s Olympics had athletes from 184 countries), including 10 countries that have never been represented in the Paralympic Games before, along with representation from the Neutral and Refugee teams. In case you missed it, at the last Paralympics in Tokyo, China earned the most medals, with Great Britain behind it and the US in third.

Since the 1988 Summer Games and the 1992 Winter Games, the Olympic and Paralympic Games have been held in the same cities and venues. Although Paralympians still strive for equal treatment as Olympic athletes without disabilities, there is a large gap in funding between the Olympics and Paralympics.

Where to Watch

This year’s Games will make history as the first Paralympic Games to offer live coverage of every one of the 22 sports played. Like the Olympics, every event at the Paralympics will be available to stream on Peacock if you’re in the US.

If you prefer going old school and watching on basic cable, a select number of events will be airing on the NBC channels NBC, CNBC, and USA Network, along with E!, Golf Channel, and Telemundo, which offers coverage in Spanish. In an effort to make the Games more accessible, closed captioning will be available for every Paralympic event (regardless of the platform). You can also watch highlights and athlete interviews on Paralympic.org.

In the UK, Channel 4 has more than 1,300 hours of live coverage scheduled. Folks can also watch through their streaming service or Channel 4 Sport’s YouTube channel, which will show the entirety of the Games for the first time. BBC, BBC Radio 5 Live, and the BBC Sport website will also air highlights and select coverage. The Paralympics website also has a complete list of where to watch by country.

Opening Ceremony

The Opening Ceremony will begin August 28 at 8 pm Paris time, 7 pm BST, 2 pm EDT, and 11 am PDT. Similar to the Olympics opening ceremony, the Paralympics opening ceremony will be held outside of a stadium at one of the major squares in Paris, Place de la Concorde, and the iconic avenue Champs-Élysées will be transformed into the opening ceremony stage.

The competition starts the following day, on August 29, at 11 am EDT (8 am PDT). Like with the Paris Olympics, the start times will be similarly early and continue throughout the day. The specific timing of some of the events might change, so check the schedule of events on the Olympics' Paralympics schedule webpage.

Blind Football (Soccer)

Blind football is an adaptation of football (or soccer, if you’re American) for athletes with vision impairment played with an audible ball. This men’s competition starts early on September 1 and continues on September 2, 3 and 5, with the gold medal match on Saturday, September 7.

Boccia

Boccia is one of only two sports with no Olympic equivalent. It was originally created for athletes in wheelchairs who have impaired motor function or coordination. To win, each team must get the most balls closest to the white ball called the jack, with athletes allowed to make modifications according to their needs. Men’s and women’s individual games start August 29 and go through September 1, with the gold medal individual matches on September 1 and 2. Mixed pairs and teams start September 3, with gold mixed pairs and teams matches on September 5.

Goalball

The other sport of the Paralympic Games without an Olympic equivalent, goalball is a team sport for the visually impaired and blind, in which players wear special black eye-covering-type glasses so they fully can’t see and are thus more equitable (and honestly, look cool as hell). If there’s anything that the Olympic Games have taught us, it’s that the people go crazy for some out-of-the-norm eyewear. The audience needs to stay as quiet as possible because the ball has bells inside. Thus, the athletes have to rely solely on sound, while they use their whole body to try to block the ball from making it inside the goal. (Lets see Neymar try to do that.) Men’s and women’s games start August 29 with the gold medal games for both on September 5.

Para Archery

The first game played at the early iteration of the Paralympics in 1948, para archery now has men and women’s individual and mixed teams, with wheelchair or standing, and with recurve and compound bows used. Men’s and women’s individual events begin August 29 and continue through September 5, with gold medal matches in individual, teams and with different bows across multiple days.

Para Athletics

One of the most beloved sports in the Paralympics is para athletics, which has been a popular fixture in the games since the inaugural Rome Games in 1960. Today, it spans a wide range of track, jumping, and throwing events, as well as marathons. Because of the wide range of men’s and women’s events, competition begins on August 30 and happens daily with gold medal matches until the Games end on September 8. Check the full para athletics schedule for more specific events’ times.

Para Badminton

Para badminton debuted at Tokyo 2020, although it has been hugely popular for decades. Like badminton, players compete as singles and pairs, as well as standing and in wheelchairs. Group play begins on August 29, with men’s, women’s, and mixed doubles beginning August 31. Gold medal matches take place September 1 and 2.

Para Canoe

The Paralympic Canoe competition features two types of boats: the kayak and va’a (traditionally used in Oceania for travel between islands). Para canoes are basically the same as those used in the Olympic Games, but just have a wider bottom for greater stability. The races begin September 6 with gold medal games on September 7 and 8.

Para Road Cycling

Throughout the years, like many other events, Paralympic cycling has grown to adapt to many disabilities, and uses standard bicycles, handcycles, tricycles, and tandems. In road cycling, there are road races, time trials, and relay events. Both the men and women’s individual and relay events and gold medal races take place daily September 4 through 7.

Para Track Cycling

Para  track cycling is similar to road cycling but takes place on a velodrome track (as the name suggests). Competition is divided into time trials, individual, and tandem or team sprints, using standard bicycles and tandems (all of which can be adapted for the specific athlete). The various track cycling events and gold medal races take place simultaneously August 29 to September 1.

Para Equestrian

Unlike the three equestrian events at the Olympic Games, the Paralympic equestrian program only includes the dressage competition. Para dressage essentially focuses on how well the rider and horse gel, with riders judged on their riding and performance with the horse. All the events are individual mixed, and each competition has gold medal rounds, taking place August 3, 4, 6 and 7.

Para Judo

Para judo is one of two martial arts competitions at the Games. The Paralympics judo follows the same rules as its Olympic equivalent, except it’s practiced exclusively by athletes with vision impairments—and is way more badass, in my humble opinion. (I think I’m allowed to make that assertion since I’m also disabled, don’t come for me.) With the athletes unable to see their opponent, they must use their sense of touch and careful listening��including slight differences in breathing and movement—to sense what their rival may do next. Men’s and women’s matches take place September 5, 6, and 7 and have gold medal matches at the end of each day.

Para Powerlifting

Para powerlifting is a men’s and women’s bench press competition that tests upper body strength where the athletes compete in different weight categories. All of the events are individual and there are gold medal rounds for each competition (which varies by gender and weight class) taking place September 4 to 8.

Para Rowing

A relatively new sport, rowing debuted at the Paralympic Games in 2008. Now, there are five rowing events, including three mixed events. Para rowing rules are nearly identical to those at the Olympics and rowers are eligible for different events according to their gender and impairment categories. The races begin across all categories on August 30, continue to August 31, with final gold medal rounds on September 1.

Para Swimming

Para swimming has remained one of the most enduring sports in the Paralympics since its debut at the Rome Games in 1960. Its popularity is due in part because athletes with all kinds of physical and mental disabilities can participate and doesn’t require any specific equipment. (Prosthetics aren’t allowed either.) Featuring different swims at different distances, athletes compete in breaststroke, backstroke, butterfly, freestyle, and medley. As one of the most popular sports, there are men’s, women’s, and mixed events virtually nonstop with gold medal races near the end of every day, August 29 until September 7.

Para Table Tennis

One of the OG Paralympian games, table tennis actually has a longer history in the Paralympic Games than its Olympic counterpart. When it began, it was only open to wheelchair users, although today athletes are placed into 11 different classes based on their physical and intellectual impairments. Men’s and women’s doubles, singles and mixed games take place August 29 to September 7, with gold medal games every day except September 2.

Para Taekwondo

Para taekwondo is a new competition that made its Paralympic debut at the Tokyo Games. Focused on athletes with upper limb impairments, they are split into two sports classes and divided into weight categories. Men and women compete August 29 to 31, with gold medal matches at the end of each day.

Para Triathlon

A relatively new sport introduced at the 2016 Rio Games, the para triathlon is held over the “sprint” distance, which is half the Olympic distance for individual competitions, where athletes swim 750 meters, cycle 20 kilometers, and run 5 kilometers. The competition is divided by men’s and women’s, with medals being awarded for each race September 1 and 2.

Shooting Para Sport

Shooters compete in rifle and pistol events from distances of 10-meter, 25-meter, and 50-meter in men’s, women’s, and mixed fields. Depending on needs, athletes compete in a kneeling position, prone, or standing (or in a wheelchair or shooting seat). The games take place August 30 to September 5, with medals awarded each day.

Sitting Volleyball

Sitting volleyball is pretty much the exact same as the volleyball we know and love, except as the name suggests, is a sitting variation of the sport. It’s played by two teams of six players who move around the court using the power of their arms, along with a lowered net that’s 3 feet high. The games start on August 29 and continue until the men’s gold medal game on September 6 and the women’s on September 7.

Wheelchair Basketball

Originally used for rehabilitation and exercise for World War II veterans—wheelchair basketball is quintessential Paralympics. Now, it’s one of the most popular and beloved sports for wheelchair users around the world. Games start August 29 and go until the men’s gold medal match September 7, with the women’s September 8.

Wheelchair Fencing

What’s more badass than fencing? Wheelchair fencing. In this sport that requires discipline (and ability to not flinch when a sword is coming at you), athletes compete in a special wheelchair frame designed for the sport which is fastened to the floor—meaning the fencers cannot move and are always close to their opponent. Just like the Olympic equivalent, wheelchair fencing consists of three disciplines: foil, épée, and saber. The men’s and women’s matches take place September 3 to 7, with gold medal rounds at the end of every day.

Wheelchair Rugby

Wheelchair rugby is a four-person team sport played in specially designed wheelchairs. It combines elements of rugby, basketball, and handball, with players using a round ball. Because it’s such an aggressive sport, it’s often referred to as “murderball.” Need I say more? You’re gonna wanna watch this one. Mixed games start August 29, with the gold medal games September 2.

Wheelchair Tennis

Wheelchair tennis pretty much follows the same rules of able-bodied tennis, except here the ball can bounce twice before the player hits it back. Athletes are divided into open and quad classes, along with men’s, women’s, singles, and doubles. Games start August 30, with gold medal matches September 4 to 7.

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octuscle · 5 months ago

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Allez les bleus

Frederique, Marcel and Luc had to go to Berlin on business. They were all really looking forward to the trip. Although there was a lot to do - the three of them were assisting a French bank with the takeover of a German start-up by a French tech group - they were spending a few days without their wives and children. Frederique's children were already at university, which made the other two, whose children were still of primary school and children's card age, quite envious.

After landing in Berlin, there was a culture shock. None of them were soccer fans. They all played tennis or golf, Marcel had been quite a successful lacrosse player until he had to give up the sport two years ago at the age of 30 due to a knee injury. They hadn't realized that the European Football Championship was being held in Germany. The airport was decorated with UEFA posters, fans from all over the world were walking through the terminal, the cab rank was empty and the three of them had to take the S-Bahn into the city center.

They were surrounded by cheerful fans. Most of them were no longer sober. But all in a good mood. In their suits with their laptop bags and wheeled suitcases, the three of them were absolute strangers on the train. Even though the atmosphere was good, they were annoyed. They had already had a long day at work before they boarded the plane. They had actually been looking forward to a quiet evening. And not an odyssey on a crowded train.

The next shock came when they arrived at their hotel. It wasn't really a hotel. More like a bed and breakfast. In the middle of Berlin's gay district. The streets were not only decorated with the flags of the nations taking part in the European Championships, but also with rainbow flags. The pubs in the area mostly had black-taped windows and were obviously aimed at a fetish clientele. But even here, there were screens outside, people drinking beer and watching a football match. The atmosphere was great. But the three of them had imagined something different. This wasn't the Sofitel they usually stayed at. Whoever had booked this hotel would be ready for a rant. But now the three of them just wanted to go to bed. Looking for something to eat here for dinner was too exhausting for them at this time of night. They agreed on that. And drinking a beer on the street? Not on your life!

When Luc arrived in his room, he had to grin. Yes, this really wasn't what he was used to. But he'd never had a room with a sling in it either. In addition to the usual things, the bathroom also contained lubricant and condoms. Luc sent a picture to the WhatsApp group he had with Frederique and Marcel. Marcel replied with a picture of an Andreas cross. And Frederique sent a picture of a flyer that had been lying on his pillow:

"Yes, I got that too," wrote Marcel. Obviously a voucher for a beer in a pub down the street. "So, are you up for it?" "Tomorrow," Frederique replied. "I'm just too tired." The three of them wished each other a good night. Marcel put the contents of his suitcase in the cupboard. And there were soccer shorts and a jersey in the wardrobe. With a note saying "Welcome to UEFA Euro 2024" on it. "If you want to have fun, help yourself!". Marcel thought about it. He had googled that Spain were playing Italy today. Maybe not a bad game… He tried out the outfit. It looked a bit silly with his Hogan sneakers. It was also a bit tight and the pants were really short. But now to go downstairs, have a beer and watch the second half? Why not?

The atmosphere was great. The beer tasted better than expected. The second one too. And after the third, he had to piss. The pub's toilet was tiled in black. The lighting with black light was more than dim. Marcel could hear from the stalls that men were clearly having sex there. He just grinned. He was having fun. He took his cock out of his soccer shorts to pee. And before he knew it, a clean-shaven skinhead was kneeling in front of him and greedily opening his mouth. Shit, what the hell? thought Marcel and pissed in his open face. And then had his cock sucked.

When Marc came into the breakfast room the next morning, his two French colleagues were already sitting at the table. As usual, they were both as fit as a fiddle. Marc felt a little uncomfortable in his jeans and tight-fitting T-shirt, which showed off his body and tattoos to good effect. Hehehehehe, he thought. But these two will hardly feel comfortable in a gay guesthouse. And shit, he worked for a fintech start-up. That was a different world to the venerable BNP. The three of them went through the agenda again before leaving for Marc's employer. Marc was a developer and web designer. Numbers were not necessarily his world. But because he spoke fluent French, he had been assigned to look after the two investment bankers. It didn't matter, Frederique in particular was a hot DILF. There were worse fates… A ten-hour day, for example. Marc knew that they probably wouldn't be back at the boarding house before 9 pm. Then France played the Netherlands. The top match of the day. Surely the two of them would want to see that.

It was 9.10 p.m. when Marc was finally back in his room. He hurriedly put on his soccer outfit. He loved the knee-length soccer socks. They accentuated his shapely calves perfectly. The three of them had a date downstairs on the street. Marc had organized a high table in his local pub almost directly in front of the screen. He ordered three beers and waited. Damn it, Frederique had actually put on the outfit provided by the guesthouse. As Marc had suspected, he was in really good shape. Perhaps too well for the jersey that was stretching dangerously across Frederique's chest. Luc had only taken off his jacket and was still in his office outfit. He really wasn't interested in soccer at all. He took his beer from the table and walked a few steps away from the bar so that he could talk to his wife and children on the phone without being disturbed.

Frederique was in a good mood. He had drunk three beers by the half-time break. Marc hadn't managed that. And so he followed Frederique to the toilet at some point to relieve the pressure on his bladder. With a bit of luck, the horny skinhead from last night would be back. He loved it when a hot guy had Marc's piss flowing out of the corner of his mouth. When he arrived downstairs at the toilets, he could already see his piss face. Marc got ready. And grinned all over his face. That was definitely Frederique fucking a Dutch fan in one of the toilet cubicles.

When Fred and Marc came to breakfast together, Luc barely raised an eyebrow. He didn't care that they were both dressed far too casually for his taste. He wasn't a start-up hipster. He was just providing them with the fresh money they needed to expand. And Luc and his employer were making a good profit. No, he raised an eyebrow because they both came out of Marc's room. Fred almost naked, in just his soccer shorts. He disappeared straight back into his own room, only to sit down at the breakfast table a few minutes later, dressed more or less appropriately. Luc sighed and turned his attention back to the messages on his cell phone.

Fred and Marc were used to having to work on Saturday. They liked that about their job. Work hard, party hard. And with the new work lifestyle, the boundaries between work and leisure, between colleagues and friends, were becoming increasingly blurred anyway. If this had the effect of Fred shagging Marc in the loo in between, neither of them complained. But today they urged Luc to finish work reasonably on time. They definitely wanted to watch the Turkey-Portugal game. It was interesting from a footballing point of view, but above all they were looking forward to the hot Turkish fans. Hairy, muscular�� Especially Marc's taste. But Frederique didn't mind fucking a hot, hairy ass either. If necessary, he sucked a circumcised cock first. Shit, he loves the Turks for the fact that they always keep their balls and cocks slick. Luc wasn't at the reception at 5:30 pm as arranged. When Fred knocked on his door, he opened it. On the phone. Still in his suit. Fred went to the wardrobe and pulled out the soccer outfit. "Come on, loosen up for once. It's Saturday night!" Luc smiled painfully. He pulled the door shut. And after a few minutes, still on the phone, he stepped out of his room in his soccer outfit. The two of them dragged him down to the street, Marc organized three beers and the party could begin.

Shit, some of those footballers are really fucking hot, Luc kept thinking to himself. No wonder he kept building a clearly visible tent in his shiny shorts. One of the Portuguese fans, a small but damn muscular guy, naked except for his boots and leather chaps, but with a Portuguese flag draped around his shoulders, noticed this more than clearly. The two of them shared a beer. And another. The Portuguese asked Luc if he had a room upstairs in the guesthouse, he had seen him come out of the door earlier. Luc licked his lips and nodded. Neither of them noticed how the game ended. By the time the final whistle blew, Luc was already tied to the St. Andrew's cross in his room.

"Mates, where are we watching the game? Here in the Bermuda Triangle or on the fan mile?" With his Germany jersey, it was clear what Luke's preference was. Marc and Fred would have preferred to stay here in their favorite pub, where they were drinking themselves into shape on this Sunday morning. The party and the sex before and after were more important to them. But Luke was a hardcore soccer fan. For him, it was a matter of honor to watch the game in front of the Brandenburg Gate. Marc and Fred took a sip of beer and sighed. "Okay, fan mile then," Marc moaned. "OMG, like if we can catch that Albania vs Spain match at our spot again, it'd be so lit! I ran into some seriously fire Albanians in the restroom yesterday, no joke." The three of them clinked glasses and laughed. The European Championship was great!

Pics by @ki-kink

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #age reduction #soccer tf #ai image #skinhead tf #hooligan tf

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bloodyjuls-blog · 1 year ago

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WHAT IF I LOSE YOU (part 3)

(I will fight to not lose you) - Alexia Putellas

There was a moment in my life where I wanted to give up, where everything was beyond me and what can you expect from a girl who grew up in Sutton running around with a soccer ball and who is now a super star? Life has never been easy, when you reach your teenage years and your social life overlaps with training, match day, recovery days? The only thing left was to do everything from home, from parties to drinking. Everything was easier without my parents at home, to be honest I grew up having everything, a big house, money, freedom and what I loved most after alcohol.... Football. When you become a professional nobody tells you the responsibilities and the exposure you bring with that and even if they say that women's soccer lacks attraction then they should have it checked because the pressure I felt playing for arsenal or city was very high and brought with it the expectation of the Barcelona soccer club to bring a star, to speak on and off the pitch. My younger days I remember with the talks with my parents for not being good enough to be in a professional league, which then when I achieved it would break me little by little because alcohol never left me, the faithful companion of my adventures.... Everything became a problem, I drank until the wee hours and made sure I got enough rest to perform the minimum in my club. Then my sister brings us the news of her pregnancy and I don't deny it, I always wanted to be a mother but there was a moment when my world came crashing down and I rejected the idea.

Flashback

It was the decisive league match for arsenal. We were facing Chelsea for the FA cup and the pressure from above forced us to win. But things always go wrong, that day I think I had one of the worst games of my life. I missed a lot of chances, I was always out of position and the worst thing is that my family was watching me from the stands.

At the dinner with my family, my father very disappointed tells me: "daughter I do not understand you, they tell us to come to see you and you play a shitty game" to which I a little upset I tell him: "if you are not interested then do not come, this is soccer" at the end of dinner the mood is lowered but my father there is something that does not fit, since I tried the first shot of vodka has made me bad faces. While I approach to take Ruppert, already 5 years old, my father takes him away from me and tells me: "I don't understand how they can want you in a club if you are an alcoholic, and much less I am going to allow you to take care of your nephews being in the conditions you are, do you think I didn't notice your flash of whiskey you had in your backpack or that you are going back home drunk, if something happens to you don't even bother to call me because I am not going to come and save your ass, you understand? " My tears were falling from my eyes, he had hurt me in a way I never thought he could. After all he was my father and I was his not so favorite daughter.

End of the Flashback

Alexia pov

"Hello, Ana. Do you know where y/n is?" I ask through the line in a worried voice. "No Ale, the only thing I know is that she had been drinking and left driving the car, I guess I'm guessing she's already in her apartment" Ana replied calmly. "Fuck this can't be" exclaimed Ale as she tried to call you back. "Ah I know who to call, maybe she has information" she thought calmer.

"Hi Leah how are you? It's Alexia" said Alexia calmly "Hi Alexia, well to what do I owe your call?" Answered Leah quizzically "I was wondering if you know anything about y/n, she called me a while ago and left me a little worried" you could tell from Alexia's voice that something wasn't right. "Ale the truth I don't know where y/n/n could have gone, what I do tell you is to please take care of her, and help with the alcohol issue she is not having a good time, and I am worried that something might happen to her" said a little more concerted Leah. "Of course, come on I'll leave you, I have another call coming in."

She answers the other call....

"Hello, is this Ms. Alexia Putellas?" A calm voice asks on the other line. "Who is calling?" answers a curious Alexia. "Ma'am this is the receptionist at Egarsat hospital speaking, I was speaking to inform you that Miss y/n y/l has been involved in an accident and you are listed as the emergency contact" Alexia at that moment felt tears fall from her eyes "yes this is her, tell me how is she? Tell me how is she?" says Alexia desperately "Ma'am the only thing I can tell you is that if you can, please go to the hospital as soon as possible, the emergency reception will tell you where to go" "thank you" says Alexia with an agitated voice.

Note: sorry I know had passed a couple of month but I'm near to graduate and that makes me full time persone and busy schedule. Love you all loads

#woso x reader #woso #fc barcelona femeni #fcb femeni #woso imagines #woso one shot #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #espwnt imagine #lionesses #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader

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chelseajackarmy · 3 months ago

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Eom Ji-sung

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gullableh · 2 months ago

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Just friends...

Otoya x male reader

Warnings :

This is a male x male fanfic, so sorry lady's.😔

Reader is a foreigner from a different country.

My grammar is terrible so my apologies in advance

I tried to make it as in character as possible but oh my god this is flopping so bad 😭

Ooc probably.

(S/n) = Skin color

(H/c) = Hair color

(C/n) = Country name

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Otoya and you where good friends. Best friends even, the two of you where side by side almost 100% of the time. Stuck witch eachother, attached to the hip.

People barely ever saw you two without the other.

Your glad otoya and you are friends. You don't know how you would've survived the first years of moving into Japan without him.

You remember quite well the first time you two met. Surprisingly, instead of turning into buddies Imidiatly, the two of you hated eachother back then

The first few months moving into Japan was weird. The city was different from your home country. The language was weird.

The thing that bothered you the most was the fact everyone looked so much like eachother.

Silky black hair. And milky white skin. It was a complete opposite of your (s/c) colored skin and your (h/c) hair color.

They also had different ways of living, the way of sitting on the ground while eating, using chopsticks. And bowing. The neighborhood was always so quiet, there where bearly any children playing in the parks near the school.

It was a complete contrast form (c/n). Where the cities where so lively. Where the children would rush to get out of school and play a match of soccer.

School seemed to be even harder in Japan. Considering the fact that you didn't know a single bit of the language. Embarrassing yourself everytime you tried to talk in theire language. And yet they'd laugh and giggle at your mistakes.

The stares, the giggles, the avoidance. It was clear. These people where different to you, but to them you where also different.

That's how you had ended up in one of the parks. Alone, playing with an old soccer ball. Putting all of your aggression into a singular kick.

It had been a few months since you've moved. Learning Japan has gotten better, but you still didn't understand a big part of the language. You had yet once again tried to befriend someone today at your new school. But the kids would avoid you like the plague.

Of course nobody wanted to be friends with the 'weird kid'. They would mock you, as if you couldn't understand they're language. While in fact you finally had learned to understand.

Kicking the ball to the wall. All you did was kick, and dribbled and kick. And play with yourself. Then you had an idea, you had seen your favorite soccer player, lavhino, do a special dribbling style. You tried to recreate it. But ending up falling over and Landing on your chin.

"You're doing it wrong"

A sudden voice was heard over the park. You turned around to see a random kid. He looked the same like everyone else in this country. But there was something a little different, Instead of black hair. He had white hair with a green streak in his hair. He had the most stupidest bowl cut you had ever seen.

"How do you know that?"

You bit back, trying to look cool. As if you didn't just land on you chin face first into the ground.

"Cuz you fell down"

He said back, crossing his arms over his chest as if he was all high and mighty. A grumble left your lips as you looked at him with an annoyed expression.

"Then why don't you try it"

You said, snaring at him. Holding out the football for him to show you how to 'actually' do it right

"Okay."

He said shrugging his shoulders. Walking over to you and grabbing the ball. He attempted to do the same move you had done earlier, but he too, fell down and landed on the ground

A laugh left your lips as you pointed at him mockingly

"See you can't do it either"

You mocked. The random kid looked at you with a glare.

"Shut up, I'm just warming up"

He said. Biting back the urge to punch

"No you shut up"

You had said. Glaring back at him. The park turned silent once again, the both of you glaring at eachother.

"I don't shut up, I grow up. And when I look at you I throw up"

The random kid had said. Standing up with the ball in hand, acting as if he just had ruined your career. While you in the other hand cringed.

"Ew, you can't even say something rude"

"Yes I can"

"Nuh uh"

"Yuh huh"

"You're so weird"

"No you're weird"

And the rest of the afternoon was spent with the two of you bickering and playing soccer trying to outshine the other. You've gotta admit, that was the most fun you had ever since you've moved.

It was getting late and the both of you needed to go home, unless you wanted to hear an earful of why you should come home on time. Then the both of them walked to there homes. Finding themselves at the same direction. That was when they both realized they're homes where pretty close by.

Actually they where even neighbors

"Wait your the one who moved here a while ago?"

"Duh, did you never see me leave my house?"

And the both of you went back to bickering. Honestly that's one thing that still hasn't changed.

Both of you whent to your doors. About to step in when the random kid had stopped you

"I'm otoya by the way"

Otoya said. Introducing himself to you.

"I'm (y/n)"

You said a smile was on your face. You had enjoyed that day, a lot. So much so the next day when it was weekend you had mustered up the courage to go to his house. And ask if he wanted to play football again.

And that was the start of you and otoya's friendship.

That little bicker match turned into a friendship. The both of you grew up from small teens to grown teenagers. Soon to be young adults.

The both of you had experienced eachothers ups and downs. The awkward phases you went through. The embarrassing moments spend together. You did it all.

You watched him grow into a rowdy teenager who likes to party. While you where practically his right hand man. Always there to assist him a pass while in a game of soccer.

Or comforting him when he got rejected by another girl he liked.

You where there to experience it all.

You where glad that the two of you had met that day.

He's your best friend. Someone he can trust and count on.

And your his best friend. Someone that can come to for help, and have a fun time with.

Your friendship was perfect as it is the way it is. You wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

Or so that's what you keep trying to tell yourself.

The truth is... Somewhere near when you two grew into puberty. You started to have weird emotions around him, finding him suddenly attractive and started to think about him day and night.

You tried to ignore these feelings and shrugged the off as growing up, maybe if you ignore them, they would go away... But they didn't, in fact they even got worse. Worse and worse as the years went by.

You never had the courage to tell him. You knew otoya was into girls. He went from one to another. And you witnessed him having his first kiss with a girl. Witnessed him having his first date with a girl. You witnessed almost everything he did with a girl.

And yet you couldn't help but wonder. How instead of kissing the girl. He would kiss you.

Instead of going out on fun little date's with a girl. He would go with you.

It pained you to see him with another woman. Knowing that he will never reciprocate your feelings.

He's straight, and you funny enough are Inlove with your best friend.

Funny how fate has its ways.

One night otoya came home from a date he had with another girl. She had broken up with him after she knew that he had kissed another girl.

He flew into your arms, resting in your bed. You once again where there for him.

"I can't believe she broke up with me. Like I know I kissed another girl while I was dating her but I mean...it's not that bad right? C'mon woman are always so dramatic in these type of things..."

Otoya rambled on and on, you didn't pay attention as he vented his experiences on to you. How you wished you could shut him up. And say that your here. For him. You where always here for him.

"Why do you keep going from girls to girls anyways?"

You had questioned, sitting beside him on your bed. Having brought a bowl of snacks, and putting it on the nightstand next to your bed .

"I don't know? Woman are boring I guess... They always have something that I like and then the next moment they seem so boring..."

Otoya explained. You never understood why he went from girl to girl so easily. Most guys would take months to get over theire ex, and here otoya was...

"Im not boring"

You muttured out. In a haze thinking about non other than otoya himself.

"What?"

otoya said. Looking at you with a raised eyebrow, you looked at him confused back, until you realized what you had just said. Your face went red. Realizing the mistake you made

"I mean. Of course I'm not boring... Like Im better than a girl"

You tried to explain yourself, but your words only revealed the truth and truth further. Eventually you stopped talking. This had no point. Your face was beat red. And otoya looked hella confused.

Maybe it's time to tell him the truth, you thought. The room went silent otoya didn't say anything, you refused to look at him, you knew he would look at you weirdly.

"I don't think I can hide it from you any longer"

You said. Sighing, either this will got terribly or terrible pick your poison.

"Hide what? (Y/n)...what are you hiding?"

Otoya asked. Still confused, he looked so adorable. And yet you knew that he would be disgusted if you would tell him

"I've been holding it secret, because I valua our friendship otoya... Your a good friend and I don't want this to ruin our relationship"

You said. Still not looking at him. Your hands where shaking and you where scared so scared of his reaction

"(Y/n) What? Which secret?"

"That I like you''

You finally confessed, still not looking at him. The room went silent once again. You where scared so scared he'd stop being friends with you, otoya didn't have to be your lover. Didn't have to be your friend. As long as your someone he can't trust and be with for comfort. That is enough, more than enough even.

"Dude...I kinda knew

Otoya said, his voice sounded the same as usual, no mockery, no disgust, No anger just the usual.

"What!?"

(y/n) said turning around to see otoya, he looked normal. Not mad not disgusted, just normal

"Yeah dude. I mean I could kinda tell from the stares. And the fact you kept blushing and stuttering around me at one point"

"Oh."

"Yeah''

And it was silent again... Otoya still didn't look mad.

"And you want to know something crazy?"

"What...?"

"I think I like you too"

And once again it was silent, otoya was the same. While you on other hand was completely red. A confused and shocked expression on your face.

"Wait what!? Then why? Why did you date girls the entire time?"

You asked completely shocked. How dare he hurt your feelings while he completely knew you liked him, AND THAT HE HAS THE AUDACITY TO SAY THAT HE LIKED YOU BACK.

"Well I do like girls, but at one point I realized, the girls don't know me well. They're just there for the looks. Eventually I realized, I want to be with someone that can be my best friend"

Otoya said. A cheeky smile on his face

"And who other than my best friend himself?"

Otoya was looking at you with that charming and stupid smirk...that handsome jerk.

"I guess I still dated girls to ignore the feeling. I thought you got over me. But I guess you didn't"

Otoya confessed, leaning against the headboard of your bed.

"Oh...so what are we then?"

You questioned. Utterly confused as what to do. Your glad that otoya actually reciprocated your feeling but, you never imagined it to actually happen.

"Well...boyfriends I guess?"

"Oh... okay... Don't we have to like.. kiss for that?"

"Oh your so terrible at this"

Otoya said moving over to you. His hands made his way to your waist pulling your body closer to him. His lips where inches away from yours. A confused expression on your face. Face red with blush.

And before you could give a reaction he kissed you, full on the lips...it was sweet at first before otoya made it into a heated kiss. And here you where expecting a romantic moment.

At the end of the night otoya stayed over at your house. The both of you watched a movie while cuddling. The both of them fell asleep in eachothers arms. A smile on both of theire faces. It was weird. To be this close to your best friend. But y'know what..

For once (y/n) liked the weirdness.

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

Notes: I don't know if this is like actually a masterpiece, or a total piece of shit💀

Bye the way I don't even like otoya that much I just used him for this tripe cuz if feel like it would be the best for him.

Tag list(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) : @ask-otoya-eita, @sharkissm

#otoya eita #otoya x reader #blue lock #blue lock nel #fc barcha #male reader #x reader #x male reader #:3

32 notes · View notes

germhammy · 2 months ago

Text

“Zoom with the cast and Tom pt 2”

Jackson: okay, Xavier. You need to stop. Clearly you’re upsetting, Wednesday

Harley: take your own advice and stop making passes at me. Just because we filmed a love story together and the fans ship us, not our characters.

Pippa: yeah. She’s told you she has a girlfriend. She’s told me she liked hanging out with you but that was it. Friends. Nothing more.

Jackson: all right. I’m sorry

Mr Burton: Doug. You are out of line. You have seen how uncomfortable Xavier makes Wednesday and yet now you have made him your assistant?

Mr Johnson: so you believe her visions of some scary monster coming to get us? I am The Foundation! I can handle any —

Wednesday: Will you kindly cut ‘The Foundation’ crap? You would not last a minute in any sort of actual fighting. I am not saying the kind of wrestling you participate in is completely fake but it certainly is not actual wrestling or fighting

Xavier: oh my god! Wednesday! The Foundation is the World Heavyweight Champion!!

Wednesday: of a sports entertainment organization, Xavier. Not a sporting organization. Entertainment not sports. It’s like saying one is the champion of e-sports football penalty shooting but never having kicked a ball in their life

Xavier: Ha! You don’t even know your sports! There are no penalty kicks in football!!

Jackson: she’s talking about soccer, you moron! Wednesday, what’s your favorite teams? Bundesliga: Bayern, La Liga: Barcelona, Serie A: Milan, Ligue 1: PSG, EPL: Man City MLS: FC Dallas

Harley: Man Shitty! Leverkusen, Atlético Madrid, Juventus, Liverpool, LA Galaxy

Wednesday: Dortmund, Sevilla, Juventus, PSG, West Ham, LA Galaxy

Jackson: well damn! We can all agree on PSG. I wish I could go to a non MLS game. I did catch a Fullam match while filming London

Wednesday: I have been to a match in Romania when I was very little. I have been to a few Club América matches when visiting relatives in Mexico

Harley: I was in Paris and went to a PSG match to see Messi.

Jackson: lucky!! I tried to get tickets when Inter Miami played Dallas.

Xavier: what the hell are you guys rambling on about?

Enid: soccer. Or football as it’s called in Europe and elsewhere. Wednesday? No love for the Quakes? Or any of the Scottish leagues?

Harley: -chuckling- we can’t name all the leagues! I take it you’re Scottish and from San Jose or San Francisco?

Enid: yes.

Harley: Let’s go SHARKS!

Enid: Wait. Harley? Are you a Sharks fan?

Harley: yes. My first introduction to hockey was a Sharks game

Enid: yay!! Wednesday likes the Devils. Don’t blame her since she’s from New Jersey

#wednesday addams #enid sinclair #enid x wednesday #wenclair #wednsday addams #enid and wednesday #wednesday x enid #wenclair au #xavier thorpe

25 notes · View notes

worseforwords · 2 years ago

Text

Exposed (Ona Batlle x Reader)

Thanks to @footygirl114 for the title idea! Buckle up everyone, this is a long one.

“Heads up!” Ona’s voice called from behind you and you felt her leap onto your back a moment later. Today was a good day. United had just beaten City 2-0 in a home game and you had even managed to score one of the goals. Your girlfriend waved at the supporters as you strolled past the stands, but your gaze drifted towards an unusual figure sitting some way down the row. With black hair tipped in blue, striking make-up, dark and frayed clothes, and a plaited choker around her neck, she seemed out of place in a football crowd. You were intrigued, something about her felt familiar, though she was too far away to say exactly what it was. As you caught yourself staring at her for a little too long, you noticed she was staring right back at you, and as you drew closer, she gave you a wave. You suddenly recognised her, and your smile faded. She must’ve noticed your sudden revelation, as she sent you a quick wink.

Your stomach dropped and panic set in as you considered what to do. Ona still sat on your back, basking in the glory of victory. You knew you had to go say hi to the girl who was now smiling broadly at you from the stands, but you wanted to do so discreetly, without any teammates, especially Ona, joining in on the conversation, or any cameras for that matter. You let Ona down on her feet, to which she send a quick pout your way, before turning her face back towards the fans to continue the walk around the field. Waiting until everyone was distracted, you hastened to the railing to greet the mysterious girl.

“Hi” you said, quiet as a whisper. “Hey Y/N, long time no see.” she replied, leaning over the barrier to pull you in for a hug. You smiled uncomfortably, scanning your surroundings before reciprocating her hug. As she pulled away, she chuckled, “So, soccer, huh?” “We call it football here.” you answered, trying to match her laugh.

The conversation was short-lived as Ona wandered over, curious as to who you were speaking to. “Hey, who’s this?” she asked, her attention fully on you. “This is Nia, erm- an old friend.” you answered quickly, avoiding eye contact. “Nia, this is Ona.” Ona looked at you confused for a second, probably expecting some sort of label in your introduction, before she brushed it off and quickly shook Nia’s hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.” “Likewise.”

The small interaction sent shivers down your spine. Until now, you had managed to keep your past safely hidden. You had traveled a lot when you were younger, which had allowed you to leave certain things behind, and it had never caught up to you until this moment. It hadn't been hard, as you just omitted certain parts of your youth, namely the two years you spent in LA as a teenager.

Nia broke the silence, turning to you. “So,” she said, “you do remember my name. I was afraid you’d forgotten about us for a second there, Picky.” You froze. Picky. You hadn’t heard that nickname in ages. You avoided Ona’s questioning expression as you tried to laugh it off. “Of course I remember you. It just took me a second, what with your hair and make-up.” you said, pointing at said attributes. “Fair enough,” Nia giggled, “I’ve probably changed my hair about 40 times since we last met. I’m not the only one who’s changed though.” she continued, eyeing your bright red Manchester United shirt. You laughed, “Yeah, I suppose I have.” “Do you still have the tattoo at least?” Nia asked, causing Ona to look up with surprise.

The tattoo. It was the one and only thing you had left from your previous life, a permanent mark etched onto your skin. You had planned to get it removed at some point, but the laser removal was quite expensive, and since the tattoo wasn’t often visible to others, you never bothered to actually get it done. When you started dating Ona however, you knew she was bound to notice it at some point. When she did, you had momentarily forgotten about it when she started pulling down your underwear (really who could blame you for your mind being elsewhere), and you were taken aback by her immediate questioning about the small violet on your hip with the words “can’t take back the bullet” scribbled underneath it. Luckily you were still quick on your feet and you made something up along the lines of it being a reminder to not let your emotions get the better of you and Ona let it slide after that because she too had other things on her mind.

“Yeah, I still have it.” you said with a shy smile, still avoiding Ona’s gaze. “Good, me too.” Nia said, making Ona turn to her sharply. “By the way, Picky,” she started, changing the subject, “you still owe Casey some money, remember?” This was the final straw for you. Too much had already been said, and you needed to get away as fast as possible. You took advantage of a group of fans who called out your names to excuse yourself, pulling Ona with you towards them. After signing a few shirts and taking selfies, you hurried inside.

“What was that all about?” Ona asked as she caught up with you. “What was what about?” You stalled, trying to come up with an excuse for your strange behaviour. “Why are you being weird?” she asked directly. “I’m not, just tired from the game, that's all.” you said, unable to come up with anything better as you headed towards the changing room, avoiding eye contact, gaze straight ahead. “Shit,” you muttered as you sat down, “forgot my coat, be right back.”

As you walked back onto the pitch, you couldn’t resist checking if Nia was still there. To your dismay, you saw her talking to Millie. “Mills!” you yelled, running towards them. “Come with me, now.” You grabbed her wrist, pulling her away from the conversation. “Woah, Y/N, calm down, what’s going on?” she asked, shocked by your sudden intervention. “It’s just that,” you paused to think as your eyes scanned the stands, quickly finding just what you needed. “I saw some little girls over there who want your autograph, and I think they’re about to leave without it,” you said, pointing towards a group of young girls holding up a sign with Millie’s name on it. “Oh, thanks. Maybe next time, don’t be so intense about it?” she chuckled. “Noted.” you said, walking with her towards the excited children. “So, erm, what were you talking about with that girl?” you asked carefully. “Nothing really. I just told her I liked her style, and then you pulled me away. Why?” You scanned her face, trying to see if she was telling the truth. For a moment, you thought you saw a small smirk in the corner of her mouth, but you decided not to dwell on it as it would only arouse suspicion. “Nothing, never mind.”

Ella’s voice resounded through the changing room like a joyful bell. “Woooo, party at mine ladies!” she exclaimed. As she settled beside you, she turned to address you. “You coming, Y/N?” she asked, a friendly grin etched onto her features. “Sure, but I have to pop home for a quick shower, forgot my towel,” you replied, hastily pulling on your joggers and coat. Ona began to offer her towel, but before she could finish her sentence, you had already bolted out of the door.

As you plopped down on your bed, trying to recover from the events of the day, your mind raced with thoughts and questions. You tried to make up reasons for your strange behaviour earlier, but nothing seemed to make sense. You knew that no one could know about what happened. It would change how they see you, and you couldn’t bear that. Those two years in LA were supposed to stay in LA, and thus far, no one had a single clue about it. Nia suddenly showing up made you terrified that someone would find out, so when she messaged you asking if you wanted to hang out, you ignored her. You couldn’t risk anyone finding out your secret.

You went to the party, hoping to take your mind off things. However, things only got worse. Ona made quick work of pulling you aside to interrogate you about earlier, asking a series of questions that made your heart race. “Can we talk?” she said. “Who is she? Why did she call you Picky? Why do you have matching tattoos? Why were you acting so weird? And who is Casey, and why do you owe them money?”

You knew that you couldn’t tell her the truth, so you made up some stuff on the spot, hoping that it would be enough to satisfy her curiosity. You told her that Nia was just an old friend from LA that you hadn’t seen in years. You added that she was always a bit of a weirdo and that you weren’t that close. You explained that the matching tattoos were just a silly thing that you and Nia did when you were young and naive and the money thing was just some inside joke. You hoped that Ona would buy your story, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still suspicious.

When Ona finally left you be, you quickly checked your phone, which had been buzzing in your pocket a lot. You’d received a series of messages from Nia, the last one of which being:

“We need to talk. Where are you??”

As you felt increasingly anxious about Nia’s persistent messages, you decided to leave the party early to meet up with her. You quickly came up with an excuse to your teammates, telling them that you suddenly felt unwell and needed to go home to rest, and you texted Nia your address.

Shortly after arriving home, a knock resounded from your door. Hastily, you answered it and welcomed Nia into your apartment. “You’ve got a lovely place here, very grown-up, Picky,” she remarked as she stepped inside. “Please don’t call me that.” you muttered in response as you finally snapped. “Why not?” Nia asked, looking with a confused expression. Mentally debating how to deliver your message, you began, “I’m not the same person anymore.” “Obviously.” She mumbled. “When I got my chance to make it in the football world, I left my old life in LA behind. The person you knew back then is gone, I am no longer her.” you explained. “I don't believe that,” Nia responded, “you can't simply leave and become a completely different person.” “Well, I did,” you answered coldly, “and I’d like to keep it that way. So, please, don’t talk to my teammates again.” Nia remained silent for a moment as her eyes widened.

“They don’t know about us, do they?” she asked, her voice growing louder. “No, they don’t.” You replied quietly. “Woah, are you ashamed of us?” Nia practically yelled. “Of course I am!” you answered a bit too quickly before immediately regretting it. “Sorry, I mean- I didn’t mean it like that, I-” you stumbled over your words, but Nia continued to stare at you with disbelief. “Alright, got it.” she said as she turned back towards the front door. “No, Nia, please, I’m sorry, I-” “Good luck with your new life, I guess, Y/N,” she said, purposefully emphasising your name, walking away before you could finish your apology. Despite feeling guilty, you didn’t make an effort to chase after her. You convinced yourself it was better this way.

“What was that all about?” a voice called from beside you, making you jump. “Ona, hey, what are you doing here?” you asked. “You left the party so suddenly, and I came to check on you,” she explained, “but I suppose you had company.” “How long have you been standing there?” you inquired, curious about what she may have overheard. “Not long, why? Are you afraid I heard something?” Ona asked suspiciously. “No, I just- it’s chilly out here. You should come inside.” you said, holding the door open as she walked inside.

As Ona stepped into your home, she immediately turned to you with a look of frustration etched on her face. “Y/N, what happened with Nia?” she demanded, her voice tinged with anger. “You’ve been so secretive lately, it’s hard not to feel like you’ve been lying to me.” Despite her annoyance, there was a note of confusion in her tone, as if she couldn’t quite understand why you were behaving this way. Once again, you brushed off Ona's concerns, insisting that there was nothing to worry about and that Nia had just wanted to chat. However, Ona was insistent and demanded to know why she had seemed so upset when leaving your apartment.

You found it hard to articulate your thoughts, feeling caught off guard by the sudden confrontation. “Please, Ona, can you just trust me on this. Please just let it go.” you pleaded, hoping to avoid any further conflict. Eventually, she relented and let the issue slide, but an air of concern still hung around her. The two of you went to bed in a tense silence, the events of the day lingering in your thoughts.

Two days later, as you were getting ready for training in the changing room, Millie approached you. “Hey, do you know that cute girl with the dyed hair from Sunday?” she asked. “You mean Nia?” you clarified. “Yeah, that’s the one! Ona told me you knew her. Can I get her number? I want to ask her out.” Millie explained. You hesitated before responding. “Sorry, Millie. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Nia’s bad news.” Millie looked confused. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her?” “I can’t really explain, but trust me, she’s not someone you want to get involved with.” you insisted. Millie looked rather disappointed. “Okay, I guess. Do you have her number though?” “No, I don’t.” you replied, putting an end to the conversation as you quickly finished up getting ready.

As you entered the changing room after training, you noticed Millie with a smile on her face, gazing at her phone. Ella also spotted her and inquired her about it. “Who’s got you grinning like that, Mills?” “No-one.” Millie quickly replied, and attempted to hide her phone. However, Ella had already caught sight of it and snatched it from her hand. “Who’s Nia?” Ella asked, looking at the screen. You felt a pang in your stomach as you worried about what she could find out. “Millie, what did I tell you?” you asked, annoyed that she had contacted Nia despite your warning. “How did you even contact her?” “I slid into her DMs. Y/N, did you know sh-” Millie began to say, but you cut her off, worried she might reveal too much information. Grabbing her wrist, you dragged her out of the room to talk in private.

You pulled Millie into an empty room as she struggled to free her wrist and kept asking what was going on. “Y/N, what's the big deal? Why can’t I talk to her?” she asked. “Millie, I need you to stop contacting Nia. She’s bad news, and I don’t want you getting involved.” you explained firmly. “But Y/N, she seems so cool.” Millie protested. “Please, Mills, just trust me on this.” you pleaded. After a moment of hesitation, she reluctantly agreed. “Okay, I guess.” she said with a sigh.

You returned to the changing room and took a seat next to Ona. “I suppose that was nothing too?” She remarked sarcastically. You simply sighed in response, feeling unsure of what to say. You gathered your belongings and shot a final stern look at Millie before making your way out and heading home.

During training the next day, you warmed up with Millie, passing the ball back and forth, when suddenly you heard her hum a familiar tune. The sound of her humming that melody made your heart race faster. “What’s that you’re humming Mills?” You tried to stay calm as you asked Millie about the song whilst continuing to pass the ball to each other. However, your clenched jaw gave away your anxiety. Millie stopped humming and looked at you, seeming caught off-guard. “Oops." she said, looking down at the grass. You repeated the question, trying to sound composed, even though your anger was simmering inside you. She looked up with a slight smirk on her face. “It's a nice tune, innit?” You cursed under your breath. “Fuck.”

You gave millie a pleading look as you took the ball in your hands and walked over to her so you could whisper. “Mills, please, I don’t know what you know, but please don’t tell anyone, I beg you.” you said quietly. “What are you talking about? Are you okay?” she asked innocently, but you didn’t buy it. Before you could answer however, Marc called for all of you to gather together to start the first exercise. You desperately tried to compose yourself as the team gathered, your mind racing with thoughts of what Millie might know. Throughout training, you couldn’t shake the feeling of paranoia that someone might find out your secret. Every time Millie came near you, you were on edge, wondering if she was going to reveal what she knew.

That evening you were sitting on the couch in your living room, lazily flipping through the channels on TV when the doorbell rang. You weren’t expecting anyone, but when you got to the door and opened it, you found a package sitting on your doorstep with no return address. Your curiosity piqued as you eagerly brought it inside and began to open it up. As you lifted the lid, you found an old, tattered photograph of yourself with a group of people, all dressed in black. You couldn't believe your eyes as you stared at the photo, realising that it was taken during the time you lived in LA.

You started to feel a sense of unease as you examined the photo more closely, trying to remember the people in the picture. You could recognise a few faces, but most of them were unfamiliar to you. You began to wonder if this was somehow related to Nia, who had recently reappeared in your life. You had a sinking feeling that she wasn’t going to let go of your earlier outburst, which made her getting closer with Millie even scarier.

As you sat on the couch, staring at the old photo, the sound of the door opening made you jump. Ona walked in, surprised to see you home so early from training. You quickly tried to hide the package, but fumbled with it and ended up dropping it on the floor. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough and she caught sight of the old photo. “Who are these people? And why are you all dressed like that?” Ona asked, pointing to the group of figures in black, their clothes torn and frayed. You tried to play it off, “Oh, that's just me and some old friends in our Halloween costumes. We used to go all out, you know?” Ona laughed at the idea, but then noticed the date on the back of the photo. “But it says April on here, that’s not Halloween.” she pointed out, looking at you suspiciously.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to come up with another excuse. “Oh, right, that must have been some other dress-up party we went to. I can’t really remember.” you said, hoping she would buy it. Ona raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. You could feel the weight of the secret bearing down on you more and more with each thing that happened.

That night, as you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, the fear and anxiety that had been brewing within you all day finally caught up. Your mind raced as you tossed and turned, and soon the nightmares began. In one particularly vivid dream, you found yourself playing in a huge match, the stadium packed to the rafters with cheering fans. You were playing well, confident and in control, until suddenly the crowd began to chant a name - a name that you hadn’t heard in years, a name that made your blood run cold. “Picky, Picky, Picky,” they chanted, and you felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

As the chanting grew louder and more insistent, you tried to block it out, to focus on the game, but it was no use. You were Picky, the name you’d tried so hard to leave behind, the name that had haunted you for years. And now, in this nightmare, it was back, threatening to undo everything you’d worked so hard for.

You jolted awake, your heart racing and your body slick with sweat. For a moment, you lay there in the dark, trying to steady your breathing and make sense of what had just happened. “Are you okay?” Ona asked, clearly awakened by your midnight antics. “Yeah, just had a nightmare. Go back to sleep Ona.”

The next morning, as you mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, you noticed Millie’s recent close friends story. You felt a knot form in your stomach as you saw a picture of her and Nia together, smiling at the camera. You knew that if Millie didn’t know your secret before, she definitely did now. You frantically searched for any clues in the photo, trying to see if there was anything that could give away your past. The fear of losing everything you had worked for began to consume you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that your world was about to come crashing down.

You quickly called Millie, hoping to get some answers about the previous night. When she answered, you could hear the sound of a bustling coffee shop in the background. Millie sounded chipper, but her cheeriness quickly evaporated when you brought up Nia. You explained that you had seen her in the Instagram story and asked what happened. Millie hesitated before finally admitting that she had met up with Nia last night. As you listened to Millie defend Nia, insisting that she wasn't a bad person, you felt your frustration growing. It was clear that Millie was taking Nia’s side, and you couldn't believe it. How could she not see what Nia was trying to do? You tried to explain your side of the story, but Millie wasn’t hearing it. “Well how would you feel if someone called you an embarrassment, Y/N?”

You felt your stomach twist with guilt as Millie’s words hung in the air. She was right, you shouldn’t have said those things to Nia. You knew that now. “I’m sorry, Millie,” you said quietly, feeling ashamed. Millie took note of your silence and sighed. “Look, let’s meet up and talk about it, okay? You don’t have to apologise to me, but you should probably make it right with Nia,” she said, her voice softening. You agreed to meet up, feeling grateful for Millie’s kindness and for the opportunity to set things right. As you hung up the phone, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. How were you going to face Nia and explain yourself?

That night, you met up with Nia and Millie at a bar to try and make amends. You felt nervous as you sat down with them, but you knew you needed to do this. You told her you were sorry for hurting her and acting the way you did. She seemed to take it well at first, but then she asked, “So have you told anyone about us?” “No, Nia, I haven’t.” You said quietly, which seemed to frustrate her. “Well, well, well, there it is. So nothing has changed, you are still just as embarrassed. Is your apology supposed to mean anything to me?”

Luckily, Millie stepped in and suggested some drinks to lighten the mood. You all took some shots and Millie brought up some lighter subjects as the alcohol was starting to kick in. Before you knew it, you were singing karaoke with Nia, belting out some tunes you hadn’t heard in years. It felt liberating and for a moment, you forgot about the tension between the two of you. The music brought back so many memories, making you realise your embarrassment had overshadowed all the good memories from your time in LA. You wrapped an arm around Nia as you yelled, “I really am sorry Nia, I will make it up to you, promise.”

The next morning you woke up with a raging hangover, but a small smile grew on your face as you recalled the events of last night. You strolled towards the living room to be met with Ona, who had clearly been waiting for you. “Where were you last night?” She asked coldly. “I was out,” you said, “do you know where the paracetamol is?” “Out? Where? Who with?” Ona quickly followed up, voice stil frigid. “Millie, and also Nia.” You mumbled. “Mia? I thought you weren't that close with her.”

You stumbled towards the kitchen, wincing at the pounding in your head. “Nia, not Mia. And it was just a night out with Millie, nothing more.” you say, searching through the medicine cabinet for paracetamol. Ona followed you, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Y/N, you’ve been acting strange lately. Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion. You swallowed the pills with a glass of water and turned to face her. “No, everything’s fine. I just needed a night out with friends.” Ona gave you a long, hard look, once again clearly not convinced.

“I can’t keep pretending I believe these lies you tell me. I think I might need some space, Y/N.” You felt a pit in your stomach. You knew she was right. Your recent behaviour had been mysterious, and you hadn’t been entirely truthful with her. You took a deep breath and tried to explain, “You’re right, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I promise I’ll tell you everything soon, I just need some time to figure things out, okay?” Ona looked at you, her eyes softening slightly. “You can’t keep pushing me away like this, Y/N. I need to know what’s going on.” You nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “I know, and I will tell you, but I need a little more time to figure out how to say it.” Ona nodded, and you felt the weight of your recent actions settling in.

The inevitability of revealing the secret had finally caught up with you. You had kept it buried deep within yourself for far too long. As you recovered from your hangover, a plan began to form in your mind. You reached out to Millie, knowing that she likely knew everything at this point, and asked for her help in bringing the truth to light.

The next day, with the help of Millie and some staff members, you gathered the whole team in a conference room before training. Everyone sat down and as you stood in front of them, a big screen behind you, they all sent you confused glares, especially Ona, whom you told very little about your plan for this morning. Millie hushed everyone, and your nerves began to take hold. “Greetings, everyone,” you began, “for a long time I have kept my past a secret to all of you, but today that changes. What you’re about to witness might be shocking at first, but rest assured, that stuff is in the past, I am no longer involved in such practices, and I am not the person I was back then.”

You took a deep breath as you moved away from the screen, giving Millie a small nod, who then hit play. You sat down on the front row, not wanting to face any of your teammates reactions. A video started playing, showing a bunch of alternative looking teenagers in a car. “We are on our way to Vegaaas.” One of them said. You cringed as you waited for the realisation to dawn behind you. “OH MY GOD,” Ella shouted suddenly, “Y/N, is that you with the pink hair?” You buried your face in your hands as a song began playing in the background.

youtube

You kept your face hidden in your hands as the video kept playing, showing you during the most embarrassing period of your life, singing and dancing with the members of the poppunk band you used to be a part of. The laughter and screaming of your teammates rang loud in your ears as you endured the three-minute video, each embarrassing detail pointed out feeling like an eternity. When the last chorus ended, which everyone had sang along too, Millie yanked you by the wrist, pulling you out of hiding and into the spotlight. Your heart pounded as you stood before the team, their eyes fixed on you, most of them still recovering from the laughter. “It’s time for some questions.” Millie declared, a sly grin spreading across her face.

“Alright, go on then, ask away.” You said, knowing an intense interrogation would be inevitable at this point, to which several hands shot up immediately. “You, pink shirt.” Millie said, pointing at Ella, pretending to be hosting a press conference. “Oh my god, where to start,” Ella began, “just- what was that?” You sighed. “When I was a teenager I lived in LA for two years. During that time I joined a band, this was them.” you answered. “What instrument did you play?” Alessia inquired. “Bass, next!” “Were you famous?” Leah asked, to which you chuckled. “We had one minor hit, but not really. They did have somewhat of a breakthrough after I left though.” Some people audibly gasped at that.

“Do you still talk to them?” Maya asked. “Not really. When I left I kind of dove into my football career, never looking back. Although recently I have been getting in touch with one of them again.” You answered. “Do you have any regrets?” Millie, momentarily losing her role as moderator, caught you off guard with her question. You pondered the question for a while before stating, “No. I don’t.” A small smile growing on your face.

As the interrogation about your past came to an end, the staff interrupted, signalling that it was time for training. The teasing followed you into the changing room where your teammates continued to poke fun at your previous life, singing the song and scouring the internet for embarrassing photos. Despite their laughter, you couldn’t help but notice the quietness of your girlfriend. She remained silent throughout the morning, refusing to participate in the banter, and you knew something was wrong. Trying to be discreet, you quietly approached her as you laced up your shoes, “Ona, can we talk after training?” She nodded, but the unease lingered in the air. Training couldn't end soon enough, as the jokes persisted, and Ona seemed to avoid you at all costs.

When training was finally over, you and Ona hastily left to your apartment. As you sat with Ona on the couch, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about the way you had been acting lately. You knew why she had been quiet all day. You had hurt her by making her think that the secret from your past was something far more sinister than it actually was.

“I’m sorry, Ona,” you began, turning towards her. “I should have told you about the band from the start, instead of acting all suspicious and making you think it was something terrible. I know I hurt you and I feel terrible about it.” Ona remained quiet for a moment, her eyes fixed on her lap. Finally, she looked up at you and spoke in a soft voice. “I was just scared, you know? I thought you had done something really bad, something that would change the way I saw you. But now that I know the truth, I just feel silly.”

You took her hand in yours and squeezed it gently. “You have nothing to feel silly about, Ona. I understand why you were scared, and I should have been more open with you from the start. I promise to be more honest with you in the future.” you said genuinely. “You made me think you were secretly married, or something, or a murderer!” she chuckled, playfully smacking your leg with her hand. “Wait, you really thought that?” you gasped. “Well not really, but I just got confused and my mind went places!” she said, looking a bit embarrassed at her confession. “I’m really sorry Ona.” you said once more.

“So bass, huh?”, Ona said, changing the subject. “Can you still play?” “I do still have my old bass hidden away in the back of my closet, but I haven’t practiced in a long time. Though I guess playing an instrument should be like riding a bike right?”

It wasn’t. You opened the old hardcase to reveal your beige fender precision bass, covered in old stickers you had picked up whilst touring and attending concerts back in the US. “Wow, you were such a loser.” Ona teased. “See, this is why I didn’t want anyone to know!” you replied, sending her a pout. “I’m kidding, I love it. Now play something for me!”

After tuning your bass for what felt like minutes (it was so out of tune you were afraid a string might snap), you tested your muscle memory by attempting to play one of your old songs. You cringed at the sound of the first few notes and quickly stopped playing. Your fingers fumbled over the frets, struggling to find the right notes. The song that used to come so naturally to you now felt like a foreign language. It was like trying to reconnect with a version of yourself that no longer existed.

“Hey, keep going!” Ona encouraged as she noticed your defeat. “What, you didn’t think that was terrible?” you quipped, raising an eyebrow. She laughed, “Oh, your playing was definitely terrible, but the bass looks good on you.” she said, sending you a wink.

With Ona's encouragement, you kept playing for a bit longer, trying to remember the bass lines. Gradually, it started to come back to you, and the song began to sound more familiar. Ona watched you intently, her smile growing wider as you got better. “You know, I like getting to know about your past,” she said, still smiling at you. “Even if it's embarrassing to you.”

You felt a little pang of guilt wash over you again, but you were grateful for Ona's understanding. You decided to take the opportunity to show her more about your past, and pulled out some old photos from your teenage years. As you scrolled through them together, you told her about your experiences touring with the band, the crazy things you did on the road, and the friends you made along the way. Ona listened attentively, asking questions and laughing at your stories. It felt good to finally share this part of yourself with someone, and you were glad it was with her.

“So this Nia girl, are you guys good? Things seemed so intense with you two.” Ona inquired. “Yeah, I may have hurt her in my embarrassment.” You answered, looking down at your feet. “I know just what to do to make things right.” Ona said as she shot up to grab her phone.

That evening, you sat in a bar, taking a sip of your beer whilst nervously wiggling your feet. You couldn’t believe you had agreed to this, but your girlfriend had convinced you it was the right thing to do. “You didn’t tell me the whole team was coming.” you said, frowning at Ona. She grinned back at you. “Don’t be nervous, querida. You’ve played to bigger crowds before.” You couldn’t help but feel like this was some sort of payback for your recent behaviour, which you definitely deserved. “They’re here!” Ona exclaimed, making you turn around to find Millie and Nia walking into the bar, Nia’s eyes widening when she saw you.

You made your way to the small podium opposite the bar. You grabbed a microphone and signalled to the sound guy that you were ready. “Hello everyone,” you said into the microphone, taking a deep breath. “Could I have your attention please?” You grabbed your bass from behind the curtain, causing several gasps from your teammates and, of course, Nia. “I have an apology to make to an old friend of mine who’s here tonight. Nia, I'm truly sorry for the way I acted. If you can forgive me, please join in with me.”

As you began to play the bass line from one of your old songs, you could feel the weight of everyone’s attention on you. You were nervous at first, but as you played, you started to feel more confident. After a few bars, Nia hesitantly joined in, her voice blending perfectly with your playing. You shared a smile, both of you finally letting go of the tension that had been building between you. As the song progressed, you could see the your teammates tapping their feet and nodding their heads along to the beat. By the end of the song, the whole bar was cheering and clapping, and you felt a sense of pride and relief wash over you.

As the song came to an end, the bar erupted into applause. You looked out into the crowd and saw your friends, including Ona, with wide grins on their faces. But it was Nia who surprised you the most. She walked up to you and hugged you tightly, whispering in your ear, “I forgive you, Y/N.” “It’s Picky.” You smiled.

As you walked Nia towards the bar to order her a drink, you casually asked, “By the way, that photo was yours, wasn’t it?” Her face broke into a sly smile. “Photo? I have no idea what you are talking about.” she retorted. You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with her denial. “Really? So it was just some random stranger leaving that package on my doorstep?” you inquired, your tone laced with sarcasm. Nia’s grin widened. “I guess so. Perhaps they got a little mad after being called an embarrassment and were hoping to remind you of some positive memories.” she suggested. You playfully nudged her elbow. “Some insightful stranger they were.”

After your performance, the evening blossomed into an unforgettable night out with your team. The occasional teasing towards your past, fuelled by Nia’s humorous anecdotes, only added to the lively atmosphere. Everyone hit it off with Nia, and you were relieved that she decided to forgive you. The night was filled with music, and your teammates kept requesting your old songs to the DJ, who was gradually becoming visibly annoyed. It was heartwarming to witness everyone having such a great time, and it felt freeing to let your hair down and revel in the moment with your friends. As the night came to an end, you walked out of the bar with your arm around Ona, feeling grateful for the amazing people in your life.

#ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #muwfc x reader #espwnt x reader

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 6 months ago

Text

First Time Footie Fan (John Price x Escort!Reader)

Part of the "Purchase Your Time" Series

Summary: Talking stage has been complete and at last you get John in his comfort zone, not where he thinks yours is, and progress is made.

Content warning: Minors DNI, 18+ only. Reader is gender neutral and a sex worker, but no smut/sex in this chapter.

First Meeting and First "Meeting" // AO3 Version // Masterlist

“Oh, I saw he’s retiring,” You pointed to a massive electric screen, somehow immune to the rain and spray of the motorway, that boasted the pride and joy of Liverpool, Jürgen Klopp, “And everyone in the city is going into mourning.”

“More like half the country,” John’s eyes briefly acknowledged the advert before zeroing back on the road, “One of the greatest football coaches ever.”

“Greater than Ted Lasso?”

“Who?”

Eager to spew about the new show you’d binged between your last meeting and now, but wanting to remain as cool as possible, you said in best attempt at a casual affect: “It’s a show about an American soccer coach becoming the coach of a British football team. All I know about football is from that show.”

John shook his head with a sarcastic chuckle, “Soccer, it’s bloody football.”

You nodded in agreement, “’Course, they call rugby ‘football’ even though-”

“They use their hands!”

“And they wear helmets and shoulder pads. Wusses.”

“You into rugby then?” John caught your eye quickly before returning it to the road ahead.

You grinned, “Not at all.”

That got you a proper laugh from deep in John’s chest, puffing out under his coat.

You stuck your hands beneath your lap, restraining the anticipation for your first proper date. Yes, you’d been for dinners and stayed at hotels together. But now you were both past the talking phase and John wasn’t like a deer in the headlights every-time he was allowed to do something that could be construed as intimate. You’d shushed his apologies for jumping straight to the bedroom – even when there was no sex – and insisted that this “partner package” he asked for meant he could treat you like an actual spouse. Besides, you wanted to engage with something he liked, and he did promise you a football match.

His black truck was parked amidst a hoard of other vehicles, half a mile from the stadium – “so we’re not stuck in traffic later”, John had said. You were ready to rumble. But, when you reached for the car handle, John touched your arm. He already had his gloves on; the moulded leather almost tricked you into thinking it was hisbare callouses.

“I got something for you.” Then he pointed to the glovebox in front of you, his keenness hidden behind a carefully constructed expression of neutrality. You popped the glovebox open to reveal a black tissue-paper parcel.

As you sat it in your lap with your hands curved around it as if to safeguard it from waddling off you, you said cheekily, “If it’s lingerie, it’s too late for me to change.”

Rolling his eyes with an air of fondness, not a sting of derision, John dodged your gaze as he corrected your assumption: “Another time, perhaps.”

Unable to hold back, you sliced through the paper. A scarf of burning red fell out in a bundle. Liverpool Football Club’s insignia sat bold on both ends with snow white frills, a proper scarf to wear to the stadium.

You freed it from the rest of the tissue paper and immediately wrapped it around your neck, “I’m like a good luck charm!”

“Certainly lucky to have you here,” John replied.

As he still had yet to let you near his lips, you leant over the centre console and kissed John’s cheek. “Thank you. Now c’mon, I wanna get food before we watch the match.” As you stepped out of the car, you allowed yourself a little smirk at the smile lines forged on John’s face from your kiss.

Brewing eagerness echoed around the concrete walls of the stadium from everyone you walked past. Faces painted, shirts as bright as your scarf, you and John appeared quite casual by comparison. Content, you jostled and edged your way to purchase your overpriced fried food before you made your way to your seat. No dainty way to eat it, the condiments spurted out the opposite side with every bite and the napkin fell apart as soon as it came into contact with the viscous foodstuffs. It was only made more awkward when you had to stand up twice to allow other fans scooch on past.

“How was work, by the way? Good?” It was all you could ask John, and it was all you could presume since he called you a week earlier than his final text had alluded to.

“Fine. Nothing we haven’t done before,” John wiped his mouth clean of ketchup, “And you?”

Now you knew how he felt being asked. Your job was hardly as normal as his.

“All normal too,” You said. There was a lull between you. Perhaps you could market that as the real domesticity he was missing out on: not so comfortable silences on a date.

But John had to be the smooth operator he was, his knees slanted slightly towards you to share a secret: “You know, I got my job at a football match.”

You perked up, “Yeah?”

“Hmm, my colleague and I met in this stadium,” And he pointed across the pitch where you could see a family holding up a banner in the stands. “That section there.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t a coincidence.”

“How’d you guess?”

“Your secrecy levels imply there’s not such in thing in that line of work.”

John cracked a smile, “She spent the whole time calling it ‘soccer’, until I corrected her. Then we got talking and she dropped the offer five minutes later.”

“So she annoyed you into taking the bait?”

“Pretty much.”

You flattened your lips together, impressed. “She sounds cool.”

“Well, don’t tell her that, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Kick-off at quarter past eight met with a comfortable end to your conversation. You spent half the time on your feet. Players on the pitch were relentless with Liverpool constantly pinging the ball back towards their goal. Felt unfair to the other team, but you didn’t feel bad at all. In fact, the energy had transmitted into you and John. Up and down like Jack in the boxes, you felt it in your stomach’s pit each time an attempted goal missed, tapping your face in John’s arm like a door knocker with another missed opportunity.

John often let out roars in accordance with the intensity of his disappointment. He’d pat your shoulder to help recover you both as fast as the team whose scarf you wore.

But by half-time, the score was 2-0 to your new (only) favourite football team.

“I’ve got a goddamn stitch from all that!” You gasped, slumping a little in your seat. Your hands became sore with the amount you were clapping. “Is it always this nuts?”

“I will say this one is a bit of a spectacle.”

No wonder he liked it: harmless entertainment to take his mind off his job, whatever it was. It was the same reason you had binged Ted Lasso over the span of last week. You decided to link your fingers in his and squeezed tightly, and he accepted this with a kiss on your temple in return. Score. Literally. He was getting acceleratingly more comfortable with you than he had in all those restaurant floors and hotel beds.

Your hand only left his when the match was off again, rejuvenated and ready to amplify your cheers.

When Chelsea managed to get a goal in, your inch of self-control got away from you, loudly booing with everyone else. Chanting their demise and that everyone on their team’s mother was a slag no longer seemed mean. You were too invested with Liverpool’s two goal lead and were another Chelsea score away from praying to a God you weren’t sure you believed in. Once or twice, you caught John smiling at you – a cross between sly and pride over how he’d indoctrinated you into the cult of football.

At last, after a blocked attempt, the fourth goal smashed into the bottom right corner. Jumping on the spot, you used one hand on John’s bicep for balance in case your footing did not land square on the tiny section of concrete your seat granted. You almost knocked his beanie off as you joined the Mexican wave rippling around the stadium.

As the crowds started to dispel, you and John remained in your seats as you both recounted your favourite parts. John seemed a bit unawares at first, and you remembered he usually came to these alone. So you had to lead with your highlights, John chipping in with previous games he’d seen to add to your newfound interest.

Eventually, you were made to leave the stadium, with only fond memories and your scarf, without the adrenaline.Your energy levels plummeted through the ground with each metre you moved away from the pitch and your feet were complaining loudly. Crowds filtered into Premier Inns and Travelodges and car parks, you amongst them with your hand tight in John’s until you were at his car, where he held the door open for you, a task you were glad to avoid at the end of a fifteen minute walk. Radio hosts gushing about the amazing match became your lullaby while you snuggled into your scarf.

Time passed like water down a slide and it wasn’t long before John squeezed your knee. “We’re here.”

Thank god you’d already dropped your bags off at the hotel earlier. Eyes were drooping as John led you into the elevator of your hotel for the night, him letting you attach yourself to his side like a limpet while he yet again opened your door.

“Thank you,” You mumbled hoarsely, dropping onto the side of the bed you designated your own.

John caught you by the arm just before you could curl up on the bed, using it to lift and seat you, “Oh, you don’t.”

“I want to,” you whined.

A minor success was barely celebrated as John released you, only to capture your left foot and remove your shoe. It was a pair you regretted wearing and the source of that regret was revealed to John as he peeled off your sock to reveal a blister, formed from all your jubilation during the match. You winced, tempted to yank your sweaty foot from his loose grip.

“Behave,” John said as he checked the blister, your ankle trapped in his curved grip. His voice had been teasing you, just a light-hearted reproach at your attempted resistance, keeping you in a good mood, but you felt your chest full with flustered feelings that you should store away when you were more capable of dealing with it.

From his overnight bag, that you hadn’t seen him collect, he withdrew an antiseptic wipe and a small plaster, one that fit perfectly over your wound.

“You always carry plasters around?” You asked sheepishly.

“Never know when you need an emergency plaster,” John replied, smoothing it over before swapping to your other foot, “Crisis averted.”

A far-away internal dialogue reminded you that you shouldn’t find your customer picking a bit of sock fluff out of your open blister attractive. You failed to hear it over the blood flooding beneath your cheeks whilst he unwound the scarf from your neck.

“I guess it’s that cool-under-pressure quick-thinking and ready-for-anything attitude that got you poached at that match.”

“Among other things.” And John took your paired shoes over to the door.

You could appreciate that John was trying to connect with you whilst keeping sturdy those walls of his. But he couldn’t help it. His personality was a reflection of his ideology, therefore his job. He was telling you more than he wanted, and you were craving a little more each time.

From the bed, you watched him hang up his coat and beanie beside your scarf, his hair sticking up at the back on ends. An idea struck you like a slap and woke you up a little.

Knelt onto the bed, you beckoned him over as he finished removing his boots. As he sauntered over to you, he began smiling. It only grew as you drew him in to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands, guided by your incentive, found themselves behind your back.

“Thank you for today,” You whispered into the space between you.

“Of course.” There. You caught him, shamelessly looking at your lips. You took the plunge and leant in. At the final split second, John did too.

The second his lips touched yours, it stole any thoughts from your mind, as if the volume of the city was turned down. A slight tickle from his moustache, not bristly but smooth and trimmed, that was not the main reason behind your smile. It was how his paw of a hand hugged under your jaw, turning your head so that he could slot your body up against his and still slip his charming tongue into your mouth.

He pulled away first. You always let them pull away first. Rarely did you feel like you had to leave it, and this was one of those kisses you wouldn’t have minded continuing. By the rosiness on his cheeks and how loudly you could hear him taking controlled breaths, you hypothesised that he felt the same. Yet again, his gentleman-like nature getting in the way of what he wanted. Never mind, there was always more chances you could create next time to get him more into his comfort zone.

“Just wanted a goodnight kiss,” You said as you released him with an innocent smile.

John raised an eyebrow, though his lips were still smirking at you, “Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” And you bounced off the bed to get changed into your pyjamas, leaving the bathroom door open.

Your skin prickled with goosebumps each time it felt him stealing glances at you. Therefore it felt only necessary that you take a peek too. The two seconds leaning over to the ajar door confirmed what you’d felt during your nights together: a firm body that slightly softened the touch of his muscles yet without masking the power beneath it. A few scars, a trim waist and the blur of a tattoo were on show before his sleep shirt was yanked over his body. That was when you retreated back to brush your teeth and splash cold water on your face.

Even as you tucked yourself into bed, John was still pottering around. You were already halfway off to dreamland by the time he slid beneath the covers on his side. Maybe that was why you asked:

“One more?” Cherry on top, you pouted with your eyes closed up at him like you were Sleeping Beauty. A gentle chuckle and a peck upon your lips was well received and you were greeted by the lights switched off and John looking younger as he rested his head on his pillow but close to you.

“Goodnight,” He said with a sigh.

You wriggled a bit deeper into the bedclothes, smothering the butterflies in your stomach until the fluttering stopped. “Sleep well, John.”

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #john price fanfic #cod fanfic #cod x you #cod x reader #captain john price #my writing #series #r: gn

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