#the amount of times I tell these players to leave clubs

[paulodybaeeela]

The S in Spurs stands for So Shitty. Cuti please leave that club asap.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ get you home ] m. rempe

pairing : Matt Rempe x fem!reader

summary : Matt makes sure his best friend gets home safe after going out with him and a few of the Rangers after a win, but his plans change when she tells him how she feels about him

warning(s) : alcohol use and drunkenness, a heavy makeout, some suggestive comments

author’s note : got drunk so i started to write a fic and finished it while sober lol :))

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One of the things she loves about going out with Matt is the fact that he deters every guy from approaching her. Everyone views him as this scary guy because he’s a six-foot-seven hockey player but in reality, he’s probably the sweetest guy she’s ever met.

It works to her advantage though since she only ever wants to talk to him when she goes out with him.

Tonight in particular, she wants to stay glued to his side. He scored a goal in his playoff debut and all she wants to do is celebrate. She doesn’t want her attention to be pulled away from Matt.

The Rangers found a booth in a dark corner of the club they came to after game one against Washington and started buying drinks and shots for Matt after his goal that started this season’s playoff run.

She took so many shots with Matt when they first got to the club and kind of regrets it. She wanted to at least be coherent and remember her words when she tells Matt that she’s in love with him.

Tonight might not be the night to tell him though. She doesn't want him to think she's telling him because she's drunk or because he scored a goal.

Plus, she wants to be able to remember telling him and she isn't sure that's possible right now because of the amount of drinks and shots she's had. Tonight shouldn't be the night she tells her best friend that she's in love with him.

Once Trouba decides to leave, a bunch of the Rangers decide to follow him out the door. Once the captain leaves, that usually means whatever is going on is officially over. A lot of the older guys leave, but most of the younger guys like Matt and Braden stay for a little bit longer.

There are about three more rounds of shots before everyone else calls it a night. She stumbles out of the club holding onto Matt's arm so she doesn't fall on the sidewalk in her heels. She leans against his chest while he orders them an Uber to her apartment.

"Mm," she hums. "Comfy wall."

Matt laughs and wraps an arm around her shoulders to keep her stable. "You're so drunk," he comments. "How much have you had to drink?"

"A little less than you," she replies. "I think. How are you not stumbling after everything you've had today?"

He tucks his phone into the pocket of the pants he's wearing. "I'm a foot taller than you and over a hundred pounds heavier than you," he laughs. "Not to mention I have a faster metabolism and can handle my liquor. It's not my fault you're so short."

She looks up at him. "Hey, five-foot-six is not short," she retorts. "You're just freaking tall ." Matt laughs. "Out here having fucking trees for legs like God damn, Matt."

A car pulls up in front of them and Matt helps her get in the car. "Me and my tree legs are trying to get you home safely," he tells her. "You better be nice to me or I'm gonna leave you to get to your apartment by yourself."

"You'd never do that to me," she giggles. "You like me too much."

Matt slides into the car next to her and she immediately moves as close as she can to him. She rests her head on his shoulder before she shuts her eyes. Being drunk and being in a car is not the best combination. She'll gladly use Matt's shoulder as a pillow until they get to her apartment building. They're a good fifteen minutes away so she has time.

The Uber driver realizes who got into the backseat of his car so he and Matt talk about the game. The driver mentions Matt's goal and says what an amazing goal it was. She doesn't say anything but she agrees a thousand percent.

His goal was a beauty. It's something that he'll never forget for sure. She'll never forget celebrating it when it happened. Hearing his name announced during the next play will be something she'll remember hearing forever.

She listens to the conversation and smiles while they talk about the game. She doesn't chime in because she's afraid to open her eyes. The last thing she wants to do is throw up in an Uber.

About fifteen minutes later, the Uber pulls up to her apartment. The driver wishes Matt luck during the rest of the playoffs as he helps her out of the car. She thanks him as Matt shuts the door. Matt wraps an arm around her and helps her into the building.

As she walks through the lobby, she stumbles and loses her balance. With a groan, she slides out of Matt's grip and lands on the floor to pull off he heeled boots that she's wearing. "Stupid shoes," she says to herself. Matt laughs and holds a hand out to help her up when she is ready to stand back up.

"Why did you even wear heels to the game?" he asks as he pulls her up from the ground. "I mean, it's a hockey game."

"I wanted to look nice and dress up the jersey," she replies. Matt lent her his Stadium Series jersey. She might have to wear it for every game now since he scored a goal while she was wearing it. "Sorry I wanted to look nice. Good thing too since we went out afterwards."

It's easier for her to walk now that her feet are flat on the ground. She carries the shoes onto the elevator, where she leans against the wall for support.

"Are you still super drunk?" Matt asks. "I'm asking because I need to know if you'll be okay if I leave."

"We'll see," she mumbles as she drops her head to her left to look at him. "Can you stay anyway? Just in case?"

He nods and smiles as the elevator dings and the doors open.

She stumbles down the hallway to her apartment, dropping one of the shoes in the process. Matt picks it up and she uses her key to unlock the door. Somehow, she gets the door open, but she stumbles inside. Matt quickly wraps an arm around her waist before she can go crashing down to the floor.

The door closes behind them and she looks up at him. "Thanks," she says.

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna stay," he comments. "You just fell into your apartment." She giggles and stands back up. Matt wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Come on. Do you want to shower or anything before you go to bed? Want a snack? You're going to drink at least one glass of water before going to bed."

She looks up at him and says, "I should probably shower since I got a drink spilled on my pants." That was Cuylle's fault and she wasn't very happy that she smelled like beer for the rest of the time they were at the club.

"I'll get him to apologize for that tomorrow when he's sober," Matt tells her. "For now though, bath or shower? Think you can shower?"

"I think I can shower," she replies. "A cold one might sober me up a bit. Some of the clothes that you've left here are all in a drawer if you want to pull something together, or I can give you this jersey since it's technically yours."

Matt smiles and shakes his head. "That jersey is yours now," he says. "I'll find something. Go shower the beer smell away."

She sticks her tongue out at him and stumbles her way to her room. She pulls out a large t-shirt and a pair of slightly too small Lululemon shorts to sleep in before walking into the bathroom for her shower.

The water is ice cold in hopes that it sobers her up enough for the conversation that's going to happen after her shower. She wants to make sure she remembers the entire conversation and whatever she says to Matt. She wants to remember his reaction and what he tells her when she tells him about her feelings.

It's going to go really well or really bad. She has no idea how it's going to go. He may just tell her that it's bad timing since the playoffs just started, or he'll fully embrace it. Maybe he'll tell her that he feels the same.

The unknown is what scares her.

After a short and sweet shower where she only washes her hair and body, she hops out and dries off. She shivers from how cold it was and dresses quickly.

When she walks out of the bathroom with her wet hair French braided down her back, she finds Matt laying on his back on her bed on his phone. He's typing away, probably replying to people that he didn't get to yet about his goal or the win. He's wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his Rangers hockey shirts that he found in the drawer.

Matt notices her standing in the doorway between the bedroom and her bathroom. "There's a glass of water on your table," he tells her. "I left some Advil for you too for the morning."

Just rip off the bandaid. It's time to get this over with.

"I have something I want to say first in case it chases you off," she tells him. "I don't know what your reaction is going to be when I say this but ... I love you."

"I love you too."

"No, Matt," she sighs. "I'm in love with you. I have been for months, maybe close to a year at this point. I know my timing isn't the best but I couldn't not tell you anymore. I'm not saying this because you scored a goal or because you won a playoff game or because I'm still slightly drunk but I am genuinely in love with you."

He stares at her while she talks, but as soon as she's done saying what she has to say, Matt gets up out of bed and walks up to her. "I knew what you meant," he comments. "I've been waiting for you to say something to me before I did this."

"Do wha-"

Before she can finish her question, Matt gently cups her jaw and leans down to press a light kiss to her lips. It's so light that she feels like he's just testing the waters.

It barely feels like a kiss when he pulls back.

She takes a step closer to him and looks up at him. "Can you please kiss me like you mean it?" she questions.

"Gladly."

He crashes their lips together in a more definitive kiss that makes her heart beat out of her chest. She presses herself against him and fists his t-shirt in her hand to hold him close to her. Matt's thumbs trace her cheekbones and she sighs. He takes full advantage and licks past her parted lips.

She presses her hands against his torso and pushes him toward the bed. She has to tilt her head up to kiss him and it's starting to hurt her neck. So she pushes him down until he falls back and is sitting on the mattress. She crawls onto his lap so they're at a more even level.

This isn't the reaction that she was expecting. Maybe Matt saying that he loves her too or some cuddles. She thought that kisses would wait until morning when they're both completely sober.

That being said, this is what she thought their first kiss would look like. Rough, needy. She kisses him like she craves him, and he kisses her back like he's been holding back. She's seen Matt kiss former girlfriends before and studied the way his lips move, but experiencing it is something completely different.

Her heart is in her stomach and her body shakes with anticipation. She truly cannot believe that this is happening right now.

She slides her hands down his chest and stomach then slithers her fingers up under his shirt. Matt hums and pulls back from the needy kiss. “Clothes are staying on until we’re both sober,” he tells her. She nods but is very distracted by how red and swollen his lips are.

All because of her.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t touch,” she replies. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Matt sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks her up and down in his lap. She reaches up with one of her hands and touches one of the scars on his cheek. He turns his head and presses a kiss to her wrist.

He trails kisses up her forearm and she smiles as he pulls her flush against his chest. She wraps her arms around his neck and Matt flips them so he’s pinning her down against the mattress.

She smiles and looks up at him. “You do know that I love you too, right?” Matt asks. “I mean, I knew what you meant when you told me that you love me. The timing couldn’t have been any better because I thought I was going to genuinely lose my mind if I held back from you any longer.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Matt replies. “I love you. I think I’ve loved you for literally ever. I probably realized it in February when you were in the crowd for my NHL debut. Seeing you in that jersey tonight, oh my God. I thought I was going to actually lose it at the club.”

She smiles and grabs the bottom of his shirt. She fists the fabric and holds him close. “You could’ve made a move whenever you wanted and I probably would’ve been okay with it,” she admits. “I hated seeing you with random girls or old girlfriends. They never wanted you like I do.”

“I know,” he says. “I think I see that now. I’ve had a few girlfriends, but none of them have stuck around like you have.”

“By your side always,” she promises.

Matt leans down and kisses her again. The kiss almost feels like her sealing the promise.

Because she’ll never leave his side. Ever.

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[outsideratheart]

Snippet - Anyone But You (Alexia Putellas x reader)

It was the most important night in football as players all around the globe gathered in Paris for the prestigious Balon d’Or ceremony. Despite being one of the front runners you really didn’t want to be there have just played the last game in the international break. This was now the third time you have been ranked high but having just lost out in the previous two years, last year’s being to Alexia Putellas. 

The moment your name is called though all irritated feelings disappear and proudness replaces them. You look into the audience and connect eyes with your sister Leah who was hands down your biggest fan, you could ask her and she would say the same thing. Even though Alexia had just lost, she too stood and applauded you with a grin on her face. You can only nod your head as your own sign of respect.

A couple of hours pass by and your social battery is all put empty. When Leah is having a little photoshoot with your trophy you see it as a perfect time to leave given that your younger sister is else wise occupied.

There was a chill in the air are you wait for your car service to arrive. Out the corner of your eye you see Alexia who is also waiting for her getaway car only she has a look a frustration on her face.

“¿Esta todo bien?” You took the small of amounts of steps so that you were by her side. Alexia sends you a soft smile as you make the effort to speak her language.

“I wanted to leave but the car is for the team and they are still in there” Alexia points back to the building.

“You’re staying at Le Grand Mazarin, right?” The Spaniard nods her head “Me too. You can share my car if you want” 

Alexia thanks you many times and by the time she is done your car is pulling up. 

Both of you watch the streets of Paris pass by you. The car journey is taking a little while longer due to traffic but neither of you seem to mind. You do find yourself stealing glances at the blonde, choosing to take in the sights of her instead of the french architecture.

Truth is you found her extremely attractive and looked forward to these awards shows because you knew she would also be in attendance.

It is when the car comes to a complete standstill for the fourth time that you decide to make a move.

You place your hand gently on her thigh as a way to get her attention.

“Do you want to walk the rest of the way?”

Alexia glances down at her shoes before asking you how far away you were. When you tell her that it’s only an half hour walk she accepts your invite whilst butterflies flutter in her stomach.

Yes, the hotel was only a short distance but somehow you are both walking the streets of Paris two hours later. You both talk about the pressures of your career, the love you have for your families and the kind of things regular people would talk about on their first date.

When you get back to your hotel Alexia invites you for a night cap in her hotel room. It is an invite that you do not decline. She, like you, had a room with a balcony that overlooked the Eiffel Tower. You never saw Paris as the city of love but with Alexia standing beside you, your outlook began to change.

“Can you believe that this is our lives?” Alexia asks you the unintentionally heavy question.

“Do you ever think about living a different life? Like you are destined for something more?” You answer her question with another question.

“We are Balon d’Or winning football players. What more are you talking about?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You are living your dream at Barcelona”

“And you are at Arsenal. It is your club just as Barcelona is mine”

But what if I don’t want it to be my club anymore? 

You don’t say that or at least you didn’t think you did.

“I cannot imagine you in anything but an Arsenal shirt” Alexia response lets you know that you did in fact say it out loud.

“I can’t either and that’s the problem” you shake your head as you rid you mind of the thoughts “Forget I said anything”

“I can make you forget about it” Alexia closes the space between you, her hand comes to your cheek before leaning in to kiss you.

She did in fact make you forget about football and the stresses you were feeling. 

When you wake up several hours later you do so with her arm wrapped securely around your waist. You feel vulnerable and exposed so you do what you think is best; you leave.

The walk from Alexia’s room to the elevator felt much longer than it did the night before and it makes you realise that you are making a mistake. You have an incredible night with the Barcelona Captain, the best night you have had in a long long while. You are filled with regret as you all but run back to her room only you find the door slightly ajar.

“You never do this Alexia. You slept with Y/N Williamson and she is-“

“It was a mistake. You know how these nights are and I used her as a distraction. It was nothing, a mistake and it shouldn’t have happened”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Last night you felt a connection with Alexia but clearly she didn’t feel the same thing. 

Paris wasn’t the city of love. Paris was the city of lust and severe disappointment.

[pers1st]

you open yours

pt 2 of when every door closes

pairing: leah williamson x reader

notes: mentions of ed, j*rge vilda, lots of angst

Settling into Arsenal again was difficult, but it couldn’t have been more difficult than leaving, once more, for international break. The World Cup qualifiers were coming up quickly, and despite the fact that it felt as though you still hadn’t dealt with your early out in the Euros, there was no time to dwell on the past as Jorge Vilda made sure every player knew the gravity of the next few matches. With more and more players from Barcelona filling into the squad, you were subconsciously worried for your position. It was no secret that Barça was dominating European football, but somehow, for the qualifiers, you kept your head and spent every last second of every match on the pitch, even when the physios concluded you were very close to tearing your hamstring, much to the dismay of your teammates. It wasn’t that they didn’t want you to play- you had quickly proven to be a valuable part of the team, not quite the brick wall Mapi was, but an agile defender that solidified every win with perfectly-timed tackles and a good oversight of the play.

It was rather the fact that you so desperately needed a break, and everyone saw it but you. Every step you took on the pitch hurt, and if it wasn’t for María telling you to cut back on the painkillers, you possibly wouldn’t have even noticed if you’d torn your hamstring fully. You had, in addition, settled back into your club well enough to rely on nutritional energy yet again, with the help of your girlfriend, your teammates and the club’s psychologist, but all of that went to waste the second you saw Jorge Vilda before boarding the bus towards the team’s camp.

You weren’t done yet- Leah had told you as much after the Euros. You weren’t where you wanted to be, not with the Spanish national team, at least. A World Cup was the least you could achieve to compensate for everything you were going through, but during the camp, you and many other girls realized that there was a lot more you should, or well, a lot more you had to reach for.

So, to you, it wasn’t surprising when you came home with an open letter to the RFEF and a vision of how maybe, one day, playing for your country wouldn’t be your nightmare.

“Are you sure, love? I mean, aren't there like, really bad consequences?”, Leah asked confusedly, her hands around yours as you sat on the couch, you still wearing the same sweats you had worn on the plane.

You nodded, wandering back to the monologue Mapi had held about all of the possible outcomes of what you were about to do. Her voice had been hushed as she explained the ban you could face, which would affect all of your teammates, except Ona and Lucía, more than you. Not playing in the Spanish league wouldn’t hurt you as much, so long as Arsenal stayed your home, which you intended it to. Not playing for the Spanish national team- well, you trusted Alexia when she said that no one would face a ban, and you didn’t particularly want to think about what would happen if she was wrong. You were possibly throwing your national career away, and your stomach turned at the thought. But either way, you knew that playing in the environment that had been created recently, you would rot away anyways.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But what can be worse than this?”, you chuckled bitterly. Knowing well how dangerous it had been, truthfully, to play all those minutes, you knew that you would stay on the bench for a significant amount of time to recover, but you also knew that no matter what you, or your hamstring did, you would be called up for the next camp.

You couldn’t risk your career, not while you were this young. And if everything went according to Irene’s, Mapi’s and Alexia’s plan, you wouldn’t have to.

“If you’re sure, I am, too. And no matter what happens, I will support you. You know that, right?”, Leah asked, almost desperate to reassure you, but all you could do was nod absent-mindedly.

You were different, this time. Different from how you’d been after the Euros, but your girlfriend didn’t dare to ask what had happened for you to be this- reserved, almost. As if you still didn’t dare to speak, guarding your tongue harshly as if your manager was just around the corner, ready to jump at you for whatever it was you couldn’t say.

The night you spent tossing and turning didn't guarantee much sleep, but you were still surprised that your absence had woken Leah up, as she slung her arms around your shoulders slowly in her dark flat, the only light illuminating the kitchen from the little nightlight near the coffee pot. 

“Come back to bed”, your girlfriend mumbled, voice still thick with sleep, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Your stomach warmed slightly at the gesture, but you were too encapsulated in your phone to really react to her presence, not letting her pull you back into false comfort. Nothing of what was about to happen, in merely four hours, would be comfortable. 

“Can’t sleep”, you gave back, your fingers tapping away on your screen as you replied to Ona’s message, who seemed to sleep as little as you did.

You knew that Leah didn’t know Spanish, and you knew that she was still staring at your screen, noticing how your phone lit up once more with a text that even you could barely detangle. Taking a deep breath, you clicked the call button right next to Ona’s contact, barely noticing how Leah detached herself from you to start a pot of coffee.

Ona’s words were messy, and you were barely able to understand anything besides the gut-wrenching fear that filled your apartment, all of a sudden. Her Catalonian accent was thick, and you knew that her emotion was taking over her, more so than it was affecting you. You had, sort of, gone numb.

“Ona, va a estar bien. No te preocupes”, you tried to calm your friend, who you could tell was biting back tears.

“Ale said it’ll be okay. Do you trust her?”, you asked as you didn’t receive an answer.

“Sí”, Ona mumbled, to which you nodded, forgetting the fact that she couldn’t see you.

“Then it’ll be okay. What are they going to do? Ban sixteen of their best players?”

“No sé. Maybe they are going to ban just me”, she huffed.

“No, Ona. That won’t happen”, you calmed her yet again, and stupidly enough, you actually believed yourself. 

The open letter went online while you were at training, which you were quite grateful for. None of your teammates had a clue, except for Leah, of what was about to happen, although they could all tell something needed to happen.

In the short twelve days the team hadn’t seen each other, you had lost a noticeable amount of weight, and hadn’t touched your breakfast, blaming your lack of appetite on the lack of sleep you had gotten. You stuck to Leah’s side like glue, more so than you usually did. And by the time the team was ready to step onto the field for the first training session of the year, you mumbled an excuse to leave the changing room into the wrong direction, and headed to the physio room without looking back.

After sending Jonas a text in the early morning, somewhere between your phone call with Ona and Leah dragging you back into bed, the physios were very well aware of your hamstring issue, and spent a lot of time analyzing your muscles and how bad exactly your injury was. It seemed as though it was quite bad, as most of the treatment was silent, and none of the physios reacted to how you flinched every time any of them even reached out to touch you, but you hoped they wrote it off as a mere reaction of you being in pain. You didn’t know if they could handle the truth. Didn’t know if you could handle the truth. 

Still, the events of the day couldn’t take your mind off the fact that your phone was likely exploding with notifications as the public and the RFEF reacted to your protest. Sixteen players were withdrawing. Sixteen. You didn’t believe Alexia, although she had promised there would be no serious, no negative

consequences.

And you were right not to do so.

Leah picked you up from the medical room, in which you remained long after the treatment, scrolling through twitter and multiple Spanish news outlets in hopes to absorb every single comment, every single word in reaction to your letter. 

“Hey, you”, she smiled softly as she found you lying on the bench, phone in your hands as it always seemed to be, allowing for it to drop onto your chest as you smiled back at her.

“Hey”, you mumbled back.

“How bad is it?”, she asked, and you didn’t know whether it was her calf or everything else she was responding to.

“Grade two tear. Eight weeks, at least. They don’t want to risk anything.”

The fact that your hamstring actually was a grade two tear should’ve surprised you more than it had, but at this point, you didn’t put it past the Spanish medical team to actually hide the information of your injury from you. You didn’t put it past Jorge to let you play on an injury that potentially worsened with every step you took.

“I’m sorry, love”, Leah sighed, gently moving closer to you.

“It’s okay. Home?”, you asked, hesitant to accept any kind of gentleness from your girlfriend. At this point, you weren’t sure whether you deserved it or not. That’s how far Jorge had gotten into your head.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go”, Leah smiled as she stuck out her hand for you to take, and you reluctantly accepted it, the warmth being unfamiliar to you.

It took a few days for the RFEF to formally respond to your protest, and in the meantime, you drove your girlfriend insane. She had no way of reaching you, although she tried her hardest. Holding you as she slept, only for you to slip out of her arms once you knew she was lulled in sleep. Getting up in the morning without you just to find you in the kitchen, drinking coffee and being glued to your phone as you over analyzed every detail that was revealed to the public. By the time Arsenal’s first match after the

international break came around, she was truly at her wit’s end.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. She won’t talk to me, won’t tell me what’s going on, it’s just- I really don’t know”, she tried explaining to Kim, who had, in the past few days, begun catching a glimpse of just how bad of a situation you were in. It was clear as day to the whole team that you were struggling again, but the others quickly grew used to your reserved nature, though it was so unlike you.

“What can we do to help?”, Wally asked, gently crouching down in front of your girlfriend and rubbing a circle over her knee comfortingly, her face as somber as Kim’s.

“I don’t know. I tried giving her space, but I’m not really sure it’s helping. It’s like she’s just drifting away”, Leah cried, gently wiping a tear from her cheek. She needed to be strong, now. For you. Crying would be no use.

“She’ll come back to you. Wait for the RFEF’s response, and see how she is afterwards. Maybe she just needs to reach a breaking point”, Kim tried to reassure her vice-captain, but the only reason Leah nodded was because she didn’t have a better idea, although she didn’t like the idea of waiting for you to crumble completely and being there to pick up the broken pieces. It proved, though, that this was exactly what you needed.

The official response of the RFEF came while you were sitting in the cafeteria, slowly picking apart the food Leah had gotten for you as an ice-wrap around your thigh forbade you from walking too much. Your phone lit up with a message from Alexia, and at once, you dropped your fork, instead focusing on the little device in front of you.

¿Has visto?

No, you hadn’t seen. Not yet, anyways, but at the notification, you reached for your phone, quickly opening the internet to search for an article reporting on the matter. It didn’t take long to find, and your stomach turned at the sight your eyes met.

El futbolista Y/N Y/L/N le prohíbe jugar al fútbol por España.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read the words over and over again, your vision blurring until the letters tumbled in front of your eyes, spinning in circles as you drowned out the world around you. You weren’t aware of how Leah, Kim and Wally were glancing up at you, didn’t register how Leah’s hand

caressed your knee as she noticed your breath quickening, didn’t hear the words of your teammates surrounding you, asking what was going on, as you kept skimming the article, desperate to know more.

You were the only player out of the sixteen to be banned. It was because you had just begun playing, had been cared for during your injury and were disrespecting your country for diminishing their efforts. If you’d had any air to, you would’ve laughed. But you didn’t have any. Leah’s eyebrows furrowed as she caught a glimpse of your screen, moments before you rose from your seat, clenching your teeth in pain as you got up and left the cafeteria, leaving behind a group of confused women, none of whom dared to find you, right now. None except for Leah. She was on her feet within seconds, calling after you to slow down as she could barely keep up with your strides. You didn’t care about the fact that you bumped into Jonas, almost making him tumble over as you were focused on your phone, didn’t hear how he called after you, didn’t hear how he called after Leah. You simply kept walking and walking until you found the media room, which you knew would be empty right now, and slipped through the door, letting yourself slide down the wall.

“Love? Hey, talk to me! What’s going on?”, your girlfriend’s voice rang through from what felt like a thousand miles away. You felt as though you were under water, waves washing over you and trapping you in your head. You couldn’t answer, couldn’t force any words out of your mouth as you, instead, choked on a sob.

Within seconds, you felt arms around you, pulling you into your girlfriend’s chest as you sobbed, struggling to breathe.

“I’m out. Leah, they banned me”, you cried out, gripping fists of her shirt as you desperately tried to fight the way your head seemed to spin. 

Leah’s soothing words fell on deaf ears as the noise around you was quickly becoming far too much, and you fell into your own little word, sobbing into her shoulder as she held you tightly. It felt like hours until you calmed down, but slowly, your breaths began to even and as you drew away from your girlfriend, your lips twitched upwards at the realization that she was still there.

“Hey, baby. You’re back with me?”

You nodded at that, slowly letting go of her shirt as you leaned your head back against the wall. It was pounding, as though knives were flying through your scalp, but you didn’t have the energy to complain.

“This isn’t forever, love. We’re gonna keep pressuring them, Alexia is gonna keep pressuring them, and one day they’ll fire Vilda and you’ll be back. Okay? I promise, it’s going to be okay”, she spoke, hands landing on your cheeks as she tugged your face towards hers. 

“And no matter what happens, I’ll be with you, for every step of the way. I won’t leave you, okay?”

“I can’t do this on my own”, you mumbled, the weight of the situation hitting you, though less quickly, more deeply now that you knew you’d need to face it.

“You don’t have to. I’m behind you, and so is everyone else. You don’t have to do anything on your own, my love”, Leah promised, bringing your head into the crook of her neck once again as she closed her arms around your fragile frame.

Leah’s words quickly came true, as you realized that each and every one of your teammates, whether it was from Arsenal or Spain, voiced their support for you. Whether it was Jonas in a press conference, Alexia via an Instagram post or Ona via countless text messages and insisting on coming to London to see you. Slowly but surely, you recovered from your injury and found your footing again, suddenly enjoying the time you got to spend with your or Leah’s family whenever she was gone for international duty. The World Cup was a totally different story, as you flew to Australia with Leah to watch every one of the Lionesses matches, but none of your own nation. You skipped the final as well, not able to let yourself daydream about being on the pitch again. Though you were happy for Ona, Alexia and your other friends, you couldn’t help the anxiety over the fact that Spain was just as good of a team without you, Mapi, Pina and Patri.

And although you were still anxious, you reluctantly accepted when the RFEF lifted their ban after Jorge’s sacking, proposing for you to wear your nation’s colors another time. 

[flemingsfreckles]

Pretend We’re Good

Niamh Charles x Reader

Synopsis: based off this request!

Warnings: toxic behavior from both Niamh and Reader, suggestive at the end, fighting, angsty

WC: 3.3k

A/N: this is the first time I’ve written for someone other than Jessie, but I follow Niamh as a player so idk thought I’d give it a go.

Also shout out to whoever this anon was, this song is a banger and has found its way onto my driving to work playlist which I am extremely picky about, so thanks for the indirect song suggestion! 🫶

Seeing the match announcement was one thing, actually showing up and playing it was another.

Playing England was good preparation for the Olympics, they were a quality team, you knew that, but that meant you’d have to see Niamh. That meant you’d have to mark Niamh on the pitch. It meant you’d have to give her a silly handshake before the game and wish her good luck.

You and Niamh had a complicated history. You played at Liverpool together for a season before she left for Chelsea. You had always had a flirty friendship as teenagers but it never amounted to anything.

Then when she left for Chelsea, it broke your heart. Which made you realize how strong your feelings were for the girl, bawling when she said goodbye and then again at home in bed. For hours at a time you would remain motionless on your mattress, wishing she’d come back. You had been a mess for a couple weeks not knowing how to handle losing your best friend and the girl you had seemingly fallen in love with. The two of you kept in touch but it wasn’t comparable to seeing her everyday, to being her travel roommate, to being her bus buddy.

Then you got a call a season later. A call offering you a spot at Chelsea, you barely thought about it, the club's reputation, plus being back with Niamh, you easily said yes, signing your name on the line to become a blue.

Niamh was your first call, she was ecstatic about you joining the club. It didn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into your friendship and with the friendship came the oblivious flirting.

“You two are insufferable. Will you just admit you want to makeout.” Erin had teased the two of you. Her teasing, while not appreciating in the moment, had forced you and Niamh to actually sit down and talk about your feelings. You both admitted to wanting more than just a friendship and you went on your first official date after.

The next two years with Niamh were pure bliss. You played well together, you’d spend your holidays together, you met her family and she met yours.

Everything was good, until you became unhappy at Chelsea. You were progressively losing playing time to new signings, only seeing the pitch as a sub, it was impacting you heavily mentally and hurting your playing time internationally as well.

So when you got the offer to move to the NWSL, you took it. You took it and you didn’t tell Niamh until the day you confirmed the transfer.

You had broken the news at dinner in your apartment and an argument had quickly unfollowed.

“I can’t believe you’d just leave like that!” Niamh stood from the table grabbing her plate, not offering to clear yours like she typically would.

“I’m not happy here Niamh!” Niamh would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t know you were unhappy. She’d heard you rant and complain about your playing time, your struggles in training, and she had been supportive thought it all. She just never imagined you’d go as far as to leave her, to leave her and leave the country, the continent behind.

“What? I don’t make you happy?” She screamed across the room at you.

“You do! You’re the best thing I have here!” It was all you could yell back.

The defender grew quiet, looking at you with hurt eyes. “But I’m not enough, am I?” She asked quietly.

“Niamh.” You wanted to scream at her that this had nothing to do with her, she was the only reason you had stayed at this team so long. You had been given other offers but you thought maybe, somehow you’d end up with more playing time again and you’d go back to being happy where you were but that day never came.

“No, you should go, enjoy New York. Go where someone or something is enough for you.” She slammed the door behind her leaving you alone in your apartment.

The next day, your final day at Chelsea, you showed up, puffy eyed from crying instead of sleeping all night. It was quickly picked up on by the other girls, especially when Niamh didn’t come in with you, and she didn’t show up to training.

You gathered everyone in the conference room before film review. You stood up, explaining that while you loved the friendships and connections you’ve made here, to better yourself as a player it was time to move on. As you spoke you noticed Niamh slip in through the door, she looked just as rough if not worse than you did. Red cheeks, bloodshot eyes, her hair was a mess, she wasn’t dressed for training. You finished your speech before quickly saying goodbye to everyone all the girls lining up to hug you and wish you well, all the girls except Niamh who remained seated in the back of the room.

You left the facility shortly after, taking all your belongings with you before hurrying home. You were set to leave early the next morning, your belongings to be packed up by hired movers, anything you shared to be left with Niamh. You packed up just the essentials, enough to get you through the first week of your move before you could get settled.

You sent Niamh a text, asking if she wanted to come over for a bit, thinking you could talk it out, but you got no response. The next morning you hopped on a plane, having no idea if you were even still in a relationship with the girl.

It took a few weeks until you heard from her. A drunken phone call after they had won the league. A phone call that part of you wishes never came. You could tell from her first words that she must’ve been hammered, standing outside a loud nightclub or bar. Her voice brought back all of the feelings you had managed to push down for the past few weeks. Her proclamation of love over the phone, begging and pleading with you to forgive her for her stupid behavior. She begged to have you back in her bed, saying she missed the intimacy with you, the connection. She begged for a chance at long distance, to still be the one you wanted.

You never called her back. You weren’t even sure if she remembered calling.

And now here you were, standing less than an arms length away from her as you both stood waiting to enter the pitch. When you had stopped next to her, she had looked at you, when you made eye contact she gave you a small “hello” with a look of guilt across her face.

The game was easier, it was easy to forget she was there. She just looked like any other England player. You were able to push her from your mind, putting you more at ease than you had expected to be being this close to the woman after all that had happened.

It was after the game where you found yourself in uncomfortable waters with her. You had shaken her hand last, avoiding all eye contact. When Niamh tried to speak to you, you quickly dropped her hand and then made a b-line for the locker room.

“Please wait.” Her voice pleading with you as you heard her follow you down the tunnel.

“Niamh, no.” You don’t even turn back to look at her. You couldn’t, if you looked at her your body might convince you to hear her out.

“I don’t need you back, I just want closure, you deserve closure, I didn’t give you that.”

“Do you want closure or do you just want to feel less guilty for what you did to me?” You spit back at her, turning around you watch as her already guilty looking face twists into one of anger.

“You left the country with one days notice! Don’t blame this all on me!” She shouts back at you.

You sigh, you couldn’t believe this was happening. You and Niamh, standing less than three feet from each other, face to face for the first time since she left your apartment. You couldn’t determine your feeling, half of you wanted to grab her, kiss her hard and make up for all the time you two had missed out on. The other half of you was ready to shove her out of the way, leave here and hope you’d never have to play the Lionesses again. “And you walked out! You didn’t even try Niamh!”

“I didn’t know how. I didn’t even know where to start! It was such late notice. I didn’t know what to do, I loved you, I still love you.” She’s making eye contact so intense you can’t look away. This is exactly what you feared. Unable to hold back from the girl you start rambling.

“I still love you too Niamh, you think I don’t? You’re the only reason I stayed Niamh, because I loved you so fucking much, I couldn’t leave you, until playing for Chelsea became so unbearable, I had to leave to save myself, I was ready to quit.” You feel the tears on your face, suddenly very aware that you were crying.

You had only expressed how miserable you were to Niamh on the day you told her your contract was signed. She didn’t know you were on the verge of quitting, giving up on your love for the game.

You notice some of your teammates starting to filter into the tunnel. You and Niamh both stop talking as they pass by. Catarina slows down as she walks by, you try and duck your face to hide the tears. She looks between you and Niamh, giving you both a sympathetic smile before she moves on.

“Quit?” Niamh's face matches the look of your empathetic teammates in the tunnel.

You nod, avoiding making eye contact with Niamh, not wanting her to see right through you. She could always read you, she knew, you expressed your emotions too well through your eyes.

“I didn’t know it was that bad. Why didn’t you tell me?” Niamh grabs your hand, you start to pull it away but the feeling of her hand in yours again makes your stomach flutter so you leave it. “I don’t know what I can do. But,” you feel her squeeze your hand. “I want you back, or I want you again, I’m not sure I lost you, ever I don’t know what we were doing for those few months. Please?”

“We weren’t together during those months.” Sure you never confirmed a break up but you had decided not hearing from her meant you were no longer a couple. But you also hadn’t started seeing other people, the feelings of Niamh still too fresh.

“No, I know, it’s just we never broke up.”

“Niamh, I don’t know.”

“Please don’t make me beg. Even if it’s just a night? Just dinner or drinks, I’ll pay, or we can go to my place and I’ll let you yell at me, or tell me everything I did wrong, or we can just sit, whatever, just one night, me and you can we pretend we’re good? Pretend we’re something again? Go back to how it was?”

“Niamh.” You breathed out. You knew you shouldn’t. You knew both of your behaviors were toxic, you leaving with little notice and her storming out and drunkenly calling you begging for you back. You two shouldn’t be doing this. You shouldn’t, but you wanted to. You loved her still.

You wanted to have a night with her, a date, an afternoon, something! In reality you wanted her for the rest of your life. You missed her hugs, you missed the way she kissed you, you missed the way you’d sing in the car together despite both having less than excellent voices. You missed falling asleep next to her. You missed her body on yours. You missed getting up early to make her coffee or tea and bringing it to her in bed, the way she’d sit up to sip it with crazy bed head. You missed everything about her.

You missed her and this was your chance to have her again. Even if it was just to pretend, for a night.

Niamh must’ve been able to tell you were pondering. She didn’t plea with you anymore, she didn’t beg again. She just waited patiently, studying your face, the face she’s been longing for.

“Okay. One night, like we used to be.” You finally give in.

“Really?” Niamh’s face lights up at your answer. A smile across her lips. “Okay, I’ll pick you up from your hotel? Can we have dinner? Or just drinks? Or I don’t know.”

“That sounds good.” Drinks and dinner would be harmless, a good way for the two of you to talk, in public, keep it civil.

When Niamh picked you up she was dressed up. You thankfully had dressed up as well. Subconsciously when you packed, you threw in a nice matching lace set, which you had put on underneath a simple shirt and nice pants. She had gotten out of the car to open the passenger side door, something she did when you were together.

“Thank you. Thank you for agreeing to this.” She said one back in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah.” You clasped your hands in your lap, when you were together you’d have your hand on her thigh or her hand in yours, today you kept them to yourself.

“I was thinking dinner?”

“Yeah that sounds good, I haven't eaten yet.”

Niamh nods before starting to drive to dinner. She pulls into an Italian restaurant, one the two of you had frequented while together.

When you sat down Niamh ordered a glass of wine, before looking at you. “Would you like one?”

“Yeah that'd be great.” you order the same wine as Niamh. When the glasses come Niamh holds hers up, tapping it to yours before you both take a sip and fall into silence.

You break the silence first.

You apologize for leaving on such short notice. You apologize for not telling her that you were considering leaving. You apologize for not expressing how you were feeling, truly upset at Chelsea. You apologize for never calling her, for never reaching out. You apologize for everything.

Niamh just sits, listening to you, really listening. She doesn’t interrupt, she just sits, making eye contact when you look at her. You find yourself looking away most of the time, feeling embarrassed as you list all the poor behavior, all the places you went wrong.

When you’re done, you sit back looking across the table at Niamh. Thankfully your food had arrived just as you finished apologizing and you were able to occupy the silence by eating. As you start to eat, Niamh begins to speak. She hasn’t started to eat and she’s hardly looked at the pasta in front of her.

“Niamh.” You interrupt, it was rude but you wanted to ensure she knew she could eat. “Please eat, we can talk after, don’t let it get cold.”

She nods, picking up her fork and swirling it into her meal. You eat for the most part in silence. Niamh asks a few questions about your new place in New York, your new team. When you tell her it’s going well, you’re playing more, you are often in the starting IX she replies with “I know.” When you told her you scored in your first game with them, she replies the same “I know.”

You look at her. “You keep up with me?”

“Of course I do.” She says. “I watch your games, I keep up with you, you have me rooting for you all the way across the pond. I, uh, I have your jersey.”

“Really?” You definitely didn’t expect her to own a jersey of yours. You had a couple of her Chelsea jerseys and you knew she had a couple of your old Chelsea ones as well, you just didn’t expect her to buy a new one, for your new team after what happened.

“Yeah.” She sighs.

She then begins an apology list of her own. She apologizes first for the drunken call. She had remembered doing it. She apologized for storming out on you, she apologized for ignoring you when you said your goodbyes to the team. She apologized for not reaching out, something you were both guilty of.

“I do still love you.” She ends her apology with those words.

“I still love you Niamh.” You can’t help it, you loved this woman, everything about her.

You don’t get to follow up on what that meant for either of you as the waiter comes with the bill, Niamh grabbing it before you can, when you let out a pouting huff, she just gives you a glance.

“Please it’s the least I can do, plus I asked you to this.”

“Fine.” You cross your arms. “But I get the next one.”

“The next one?” Niamh’s face breaks into a small smile, just creeping on her lips. “As in, another time?”

“If that’s something you want to do?”

“Yeah.” She says. “Does that mean, we’re…” she points a finger between the two of you.

You knew it was maybe too soon to let her back in, too soon for both of you but you really didn’t care. Sitting here being able to see her, hear her, admire her, made you miss every inch of her. You wanted her back, you needed her back. Long distance would be something to figure out, but not right now, right now you had her in front of you, within reach.

You’re not sure what to call yourselves yet, so you nod. “If that’s something you want too.”

“Yeah.” The waiter comes back to the table to give Niamh her card back. You both thank him before leaving the restaurant and heading to her car. Niamh goes to open your car door, just just barely cracks it when you push it closed.

“Hey!” She turns back to scold you, coming face to face with each other.

“Hi.” You breath out practically whispering, this was the closest you two had been in a non-match situation in months. Your faces inches from each other. You look at her eyes, temporarily getting lost in their beautiful blue color. Your trance is broke by her blinking a few times. Your eyes fall to her lips and then back to her eyes. Niamh gets the hint and brings her hands up around your shoulders, pulling you slightly closer.

“Is this okay?” She asks, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You find yourself leaning in, pressing your lips to hers, they feel better than you remember, you can feel your love for her flooding through your body, your hairs standing on edge, its electric and soft and it feels safe. You were kissing Niamh. Your Niamh. The love of your life, the girl you had waited for, the girl who was with you through your teenage years and into young adulthood. This was your girl, she was yours, you promised to never let her go again.

You kiss for a second, your front gently pressed to hers as her back is leaned up against the car. It’s a passionate kiss, both of you pouring months of built up feelings into it. When you break away you can’t hide the smile across your face and by the looks of it neither can Niamh.

“I love you.” You say.

“I love you.” She then turns opening the door again, you let her this time and you get into the car. When she climbs in the drivers seat she asks where to.

“Yours?” You suggest. “I can think of a few more ways we can make up for lost time.” You give her a wink and Niamh gets the hint, quickly starting the car in the direction of her apartment. It only takes a few turns before her hand finds its way to your upper thigh, giving it a hard squeeze.

Sure it wasn’t the healthiest way of working out your problems together, but it worked, you both got your frustrations out, you were able to express your emotions, show how much you missed each other, how much you loved each other, and by the time morning came the two of you had decided you were back together.

Girlfriends, just long distance ones.

[katelynnwrites]

You Look So Pretty (Pretty Like The Sun) | Sydney Lohmann

warnings: not proof read

word count: 2557

summary: after making your own name, you realise it's not enough because you are still missing your sunshine

a/n: i wasn't going to post this but i'm on a mission to leave all my bad writing behind in 2023 so here's part two of this fic

It’s with a certain amount of trepidation that you walk onto the Bayern Munich training pitch.

Both you and the facility have undergone a major change in the years that you have been away but one thing is the same.

You know when the love of your life is near.

It seems that the blonde can still sense your presence too because she looks up and visibly pales the second she sees you.

‘Sydney.’ You breathe but she shakes her head.

The German player’s eyes are wide and panicked.

You are torn between staying where you are, on the very edge of the pitch or making your way to her.

This is the closest you have been to her since the day she broke up with you.

Luckily or unluckily, your new manager spares you and calls your new teammates over so that you can meet them.

Seeing Magda and Pernille again is a welcome distraction.

The older women had practically adopted you as their own when you were at Chelsea and you sigh contentedly as they wrap you up in a hug.

‘I missed you two so much.’ You mumble.

‘I hope you’re prepared for dinner at our place tonight. You can tell us all about why you didn’t tell us you were coming to Munich.’ The Swede says.

Pernille gives her a fond swat, ‘Oh don’t sound so serious love.’

Conspiratorially, she turns to you and loudly whispers, ‘Magda just wants the chance to mom you again.’

You giggle at the defender’s immediate protests.

******

Meeting the rest of your new club teammates goes smoothly.

All except for one.

Magda and Pernille help with the introductions, easing you back into the Bavarian team.

For all your fame, you’re still shy so you are grateful for the help.

They’re not all new faces, most are familiar.

You grew up playing for the youth teams with Klara and Lea. Some others you know from international games or as opponents that you once played against in the Frauen Bundesliga.

It’s with laughter that you reunite with Lea, the older woman teasing you that you’re still shorter than her.

Your introduction does not last long but by the time you have properly met all of your new teammates, Sydney is nowhere to be seen.

And you hate how awful that makes you feel.

Maybe you didn’t make the right decision in coming back to Munich.

******

Sydney is still Sydney. That much you have come to realise. The blonde has grown up but at her core, she’s still who you fell in love with.

You are content to watch forever as she shines on everyone. There is never going to be anyone else like her. Sydney Lohmann is a singularity.

She shows up to training sessions just a fraction of a second early and drinks far too many coffees for her own good.

Her fancy footwork on the pitch puts everyone else to shame.

The sound of her laugh still makes you happy and her smile brightens up every room that she is in.

Unlike before, none of that is directed towards you.

These days, all she has for you is indifference and silence.

She doesn’t even look at you and from the only interaction you have had so far, the one from your introduction, the midfielder has made it clear that she doesn’t want you back at her club.

You try not to let it affect you or your performance.

The faking it till you make it must be working because you are all set to be a starter just two weeks after rejoining the Bavarian club.

******

Syd doesn’t start that particular game and it gives you an overwhelming sense of relief.

It’s already stressful enough to have to prove yourself good enough to start without adding on your standing with your former girlfriend.

You’re doing well against Köln and you’re proud of how you are adapting back to the German style of play, if you do say so yourself.

There is only about a half hour left of playing time when the blonde is subbed on.

She doesn’t look at you and you keep your gaze down.

Unfortunately, for her, her playing time is cut short. It is like a bad deja vu of her previous injury against Köln, a few years ago.

One second she’s jumping up for a header and the next she is on the ground, holding her ankle.

You hear her cry out and then you are sprinting.

Lina is already at her side and just before you reach her, you freeze.

Sydney doesn’t want you anymore.

So you stay away from her but just far enough that you can still see how she is.

It doesn’t look good.

The medics come on and it is agonising for you to have to listen to Syd’s pained whimpers and do nothing about it.

You are trying your hardest not to flinch when Lea comes up to you.

‘Go to her. She needs you even if she doesn’t know it yet.’ She quietly says.

‘Schülli…’

‘Go. I know you want to.’

Hesitantly, you approach the injured midfielder.

Sydney’s eyes are tear filled and when she sees you, she immediately stretches out her hand.

It is instinct for you to put your hand in hers.

‘You’re gonna be okay.’ You murmur soothingly and she closes her fingers around yours.

The blonde shuts her eyes, more tears escaping despite her best efforts.

You keep holding her hand until the medics signal that she needs to come off.

Your ex girlfriend cries even harder at that and you help her get to her feet.

The German woman stifles a whimper as she does so and you worriedly ask, ‘Do you want a stretcher?’

‘No! Please no.’

‘Okay. Lean on me then.’ You whisper and Syd nods.

She puts her arm around your shoulders and you wrap your arm around her waist, supporting her weight.

‘I got you.’ You assure her, as she limps towards the sidelines.

Once there, it is with great reluctance that you let her go, the medics taking over.

You look over at the bench where your manager is preparing the subs and you signal for you to be replaced.

‘I’m coming off too.’

‘No.’ The blonde snaps.

‘Syd this is not up for debate.’ You insist.

Your meaning and intentions are clear, making Sydney let out a frustrated noise.

‘No. You are going to stay on and be a star. Okay? Go be a star and play for us both.’

She squeezes your hand tightly, wanting you to know how much she means her words.

‘Are you sure?’

Your ex nods, ‘Go.’

‘Okay.’

Syd’s hazel eyes are filled with tears and she looks so vulnerable that you can’t help touching your lips to the side of her head.

‘I’ll score a goal for you. Promise sonnenschein.’

In running back onto the field, you miss the way she lets out a soft sob.

She doesn’t know if she cries harder because of the old nickname, the feel of your lips back on her skin or because of the way the pain in her ankle practically doubles once you are gone.

******

You keep your promise to the German midfielder.

Scoring not just one goal but two before the referee blows the whistle for full time.

Then you rush straight to the medical room where you had been told Sydney is.

You slow down, the clicking of your studs becoming quieter as you approach. Tentatively, you knock on the door before you open it.

Syd’s all alone, sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest.

Her injured ankle has been fitted with a moon boot and her face is pale.

‘Sydney?’ You ask softly.

‘Why did you come back?’

‘Because I wanted to check on you.’ You answer immediately.

The blonde scoffs, ‘Not here here but Munich.’

‘I don’t understand.’ You murmur even though your stomach drops because you understand perfectly.

Sydney’s eyes narrow with anger.

‘Don’t give me some bullshit answer. You were doing so well for yourself over in Barcelona so why come back? You left before so why return now?’

Her words are clipped, filled with more than just resentment.

You sigh. She still knows you too well.

‘You. I came back for you.’

Sydney’s face goes blank.

‘No. You came here to win the league. You have won the English and Spanish leagues. The Champions’ League and Euros too. This is just one more thing on your list.’

Wincing audibly, you take a step forward.

‘I came back for you. You and you alone Sydney.’

‘No.’ The blonde adamantly says, even as her bottom lip starts to wobble.

‘Syd…I came back for you. I promise I came back for you.’

You are pleading with her now, almost begging for her to believe you.

The midfielder searches your face for traces of lies, tears spilling down her cheeks as she does so.

‘No. No. You chose to leave and I wasn’t enough to make you stay before. Why would I be enough for you now?’

‘Sydney I never wanted to leave you. It broke my heart to leave Germany with how things ended between us.’

Raw pain is evident in your admission and now it is your ex’s turn to flinch.

‘Why didn’t you come back earlier? You could have played for Germany. We could have played together just as we promised to all those years ago.’

You shrug.

‘I was eligible to play for England too and you made it clear that you didn’t want to see me anymore. I know me being here is the last thing you want but I just couldn’t stay away from you anymore. Not when I never stopped loving you.’

Sydney loses the little composure she has left.

Harsh sobs wrack her body and she covers her face with her hands.

‘I’m sorry. I-I’ll go now.’

You turn to leave but the blonde chokes out your name and a plea for you to stay.

‘What?’

‘I never meant for us to break up. I never meant to push you away. Fuck I am so sorry. S-So sorry.’ Syd stammers.

‘Sydney what are you talking about?’

Your words aren’t unkind, just genuinely lost. The German player’s actions have been plain and constant ever since you left. They have been nothing short of obvious in recent times.

Sydney doesn’t want you.

The midfielder wrings her hands, her voice barely a whisper as she says, ‘I love you too. There’s not been a fraction of a second where I haven’t.’

You are floored.

Literally because you have to sit down.

You stare at her silently and the only sound in the room is your ex’s quiet cries.

Eventually her tears slow and she sniffles, looking up at you.

‘Say something.’ She breathes after the painful silence continues.

You don’t know what to say so you go over to her and sit down beside her on the physio bed.

Sydney is trembling but she tentatively wraps an arm around you, getting you to lean your head against her shoulder.

After a few minutes, you curl completely into her side and the blonde sighs in relief.

It is how the rest of the team finds you later, Lea smiling a secret smile to herself.

******

You end up going with Syd back to her apartment. She gives you her address and you drive her there in your car since she can’t do it herself due to her injury.

The blonde keeps stealing glances at you as you drive, wondering if she is dreaming.

She thinks it would be too much if she puts her hand on your knee the way she used to, when you were hers and she yours.

Sydney is so busy overthinking it when you slip your hand onto her knee.

You keep your eyes on the road the entire time but a smile forms on both your faces as Syd covers your hand with hers.

Neither of you have said a word to each other but that’s okay cause there will be time for that.

******

It’s after you have helped the blonde onto her couch and brought her a mug of tea that you realise whose jersey is framed on the wall of her living room.

The three lions crest is familiar, the last name and autograph even more so.

‘Sonnenschein that’s mine.’ You murmur.

Your former girlfriend sets her tea down and nods.

With growing curiosity, you inspect the match worn jersey.

‘From the Euro final in 2022.’ Syd confirms when glance at her.

‘How?’

‘I bought it at an auction. I think it’s the one you wore during the first half.’

You remember now, the England staff had got the team to sign the jerseys before sending them off to some charity organisation.

‘Why do you have it? I would have given it to you for free if you’d asked.’ You question.

You have so many of them that this is as good a place to start as any.

‘Because I was so proud of your achievement. Even if you had to beat me to win that gold medal.’ She explains, picking up her mug again just so that she has something to fiddle with.

‘And I didn’t ask you because I was afraid.’

‘Of me?’

You try not to sound hurt but it bleeds through anyway.

Syd’s hazel eyes gloss over.

‘Not of you. Never of you. J-Just how you would react I guess. Nothing like your ex girlfriend coming up to you after you’ve won your first piece of silverware for your country to spoil the mood.’

The midfielder lets out a strained laugh.

You frown, ‘You wouldn’t have. I wanted to approach you that day too but I didn’t know how. I thought you hated me.’

‘I could never.’

‘It felt like it.’ You softly say. She's, after all, been point blank ignoring and avoiding you ever since you resigned for Bayern Munich.

The blonde grimaces, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You said that I made you feel like you weren’t enough when I left for Chelsea. I’m sorry for that.’

‘You needed to leave. I get that now. Leaving Munich was the best thing for your career. Bayern might be my home but it wasn’t yours. I couldn’t see that at nineteen and I can’t tell you how sorry I am for letting my selfishness ruin us. I treated you the way I did all these years because of how guilty I felt.’

‘Sydney…you didn’t ruin us.’

‘Didn’t I?’ She hopelessly asks.

‘I played a part too. It wasn’t entirely your fault.’

The German woman looks defeated and sad. Her hazel eyes are downcast and her usually healthily pink cheeks are pale.

You sit down next to Sydney and take her hand in yours, ‘We’re not ruined. You are still here and I am still here.’

She squeezes your hand in hers, ‘A-Are you saying that you want to give us a second chance?’

‘Only if you want to.’

Your former girlfriend doesn’t need a second to consider it. Her mind is made up.

******

Sydney is pretty like the sun. You’ve always thought so.

Now that you have your sunshine back, you’re not leaving her again. She’s not letting you go again either.

German Translation:

sonnenschein- sunshine

[cher-rei]

hey could u do a comfort fic with trent alexander arnold where he’s maybe read stuff on the internet about him that are very hateful and the reader comforts him

reflection— [ T.A.A ]

but I love that man like nobody can [how to disappear- lana del rey]

pairing: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: after his injury, comments start to flood trent's mind and you want nothing more than to make sure he knows that they aren't true.

genre(s): established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

[wc: 2.3k] masterlist

notes: while I'm writing this I can't stop thinking about cody and the amount of hate he's getting because of the united match. he's human too and the fact that people are going to his instragram and commenting the most horrible things about him and telling him to leave the club genuinely hurts my heart because he's so sweet and doesn't deserve any of this. it's normal for footballers to make mistakes and they have their bad days, but putting them down isn't going to make the situation any better. we're supposed to be supporting the team and not blaming individuals for a loss </3

it's strange how the people that swear that they're a clubs supporter can switch up on players over something as minuscule as missing a goal or losing a tackle. it's the way players get dragged for making human mistakes, but because of the pedestals they're put on it adds even more pressure.

the comparing of players, telling them to leave their clubs and so much more pile up on the list of hate they get. no matter how good of a footballer you were there was always going to hate thrown your way, chipping away at your self esteem ever so slowly.

trent was headstrong, he knew who he was and hardly took harsh comments and criticism to heart. it was one of the many things you admired about your boyfriend, the way that he was able to be better and prove people wrong so effortlessly.

but he was only human after all, and it was bound to get to him at some point. it was after his first match back after injury that everything happened. he acquired the knee injury against arsenal in january, recalling the exact moment you saw him limping and biting his jersey to ease the pain.

you were in the stands obviously, worried sick but he wasn't subbed off for whatever reason. while everyone was rejoicing the win you couldn't bring yourself to forget about his knee, immediately rushing to the tunnel so you could see him.

trent swore that he was fine but you were absolutely furious that he still played the full 90 minutes instead of asking for the medics to at least check up on him. that was water undet the bridge however, and he was put off for three weeks but even then you felt that it was too little recovery time.

and you were right of course but he was eager to be on the pitch again. you couldn't pass judgement there because of course he missed playing, he felt horrible for being at home and not having any way to contribute to the teams victories. so when they gave him the green light for the match against burnley he was ecstatic.

and you were happy for him, but that didn't push your worry to the back of your mind. and then it went south when he was subbed off before half time because he wasn't playing at his best. the entire time he was on the bench he was silent, his thoughts running wild and his heart heavy with disappointment.

you were watching the match from home so you immediate reaction was to message him, his dull responses taking shots at your heart.

when he got home that evening your heart shattered seeing him look so beaten up. all he did was drop his bags and come to lay with you on the couch, his head resting on your chest while you reassured him that everything was going to be fine.

trent barely spoke a word to you until the following afternoon when he got back from his physio assessment, in an even worse state than when he left. he was limping, his head hung low and motivation to do anything at its lowest.

you knew that he just needed some time alone before you tackled the situation, so you gave him his necessary space until he was ready to talk. but then the evening came when his side of the bed was empty, and when you checked your phone you were even more surprised to see that it was only 2 a.m.

you got out of bed in panic, immediately rushing downstairs to look for trent but all the lights were off. he wasn't in the kitchen, the living room or even in the backyard. by now your thoughts were running wild, shear panic settling on your chest until you heard the front door unlock.

trent walked in, his lips pursed. "why are you awake?" he took a few steps closer to you, confusion settling on his face. "do you know what time it is?"

a dry scoff left your lips in disbelief. "I could ask you the same thing."

he went silent, not knowing what to say except apologise but you were fed up. you gave him his space and kept your worry to yourself, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did but your patience wore thin.

your expression hardened at the recollection of how distant he'd been the past week. "talk to me. please."

"there's nothing to talk about, I'm fine--"

"--that's absolute bullshit." your tone was harsh and it took him by surprise because you rarely raised your voice at anyone, let alone him.

he took a few weary steps closer only to see the tears walking up in your eyes. oh shit, what has he done?

"no baby, why are you crying?" he asked soothingly and pulled you into his embrace, his hands gently stroking your back in comfort. his heart sunk at the few sniffles from your side, he couldn't believe that his injury had you crying.

you tightened your arms around his torso, an overwhelming feeling of hurt washing over you the more he comforted you. "because you're hurt."

he sighed. "and I'm getting better. the recovery is going well, honey."

you shook your head against his chest. "I'm not talking about your knee trent." you finally pulled away to look up at him with teary eyes, which didn't make him feel any better.

"I know you read the comments, and I know that you're taking them to heart this time but--" you swallowed the bile in your throat, the mere thought of all the hurtful comments having you sick to your stomach. "--but you're not talking to me about it and it makes me feel horrible because they're not true."

trent's heart had just been shattered to pieces, his lips parted in shock because you knew him so damn well. he had been reading the comments, and at first it didn't mean much but the more they came about, the harder it was to push it aside.

honestly the worse 45 minutes anyone had played this season. trent has exited his prime and it's showing.

this is who you guys call the best right back in the league?? have you seen that match against burnley? kyle walker over this dude any day.

he was good until he wasn't. sorry not sorry.

I'm sorry what was that play?? all he had to do was keep the ball for more than 2 seconds. this guy is a joke.

nah get this man out of my club, I can't anymore.

trent my man this is burnley we're talking about. what are you doing??

he's seen it all. and for the first time in years he let the negative comments get to him even though he knew better. and now here you were, standing in front of him teary eyed in the middle of the night because he wasn't man enough to talk to you— his own damn girlfriend.

a heavy sigh disturbed the silence and that was an indicator to you that he was ready to talk. he took your hand and lead you to the couch, making sure that you were settled down comfortably in front of him.

"you know when we played city the away fans were yelling at me when I went to take the corner," he began with a half hearted laugh. "apparently I'm a shit kyle walker."

your grip tightened on his hand instinctively, but you remained silent and listened to him express his concerns and thoughts on the entire ordeal. he brushed the kyle walker thing off and said that he found it rather amusing instead of hurtful.

"but after the arsenal game when I hurt my knee something just snapped I guess. and you were so worried when I got home too so I just wanted to get better because I don't want you to panic over my injuries."

a lump formed in your throat, the tears resurfacing but trent was quick to wipe them away. "and now people are saying that I played like absolute shit against burnley," he shook his head. "which is true by the way."

this was were you grew defensive. "you just came back from injury of course you weren't going to be in the best shape trent."

his eyebrows raised for a moment, a soft chuckle leaving his lips but you didn't find it funny at all. "ever since this whole thing you've been saying my name an awful lot."

that was surprisingly true. you were upset so of course you weren't going to call him something endearing. you were upset!

you cocked you head to the side, a judgemental look on your face that trent didn't want to worsen so he carried on talking. you weren't going to bed until he had everything out.

"anyway," he chuckled. "I've just been feeling really anxious and self conscious because what if they're telling the truth you know? like okay I score goals and I play well but what if that's just me thinking that?"

his breathing had begun to pick up and you were quick to notice, and alarm going off in your mind and telling you that he was nearing tears. trent groaned in frustration and shut his eyes in attempt to push the tears back.

he bent over to put his hands on his knees to try and calm himself down before you started crying as well. your hand was running up and down his back soothingly, only for him to get back up and take refuge in your arms.

everything was finally starting to pool out, and it broke you knowing that he felt this way and hadn't spoken to you because he didn't want you to worry. the dark living room was filled with his silent sobs that you tried to ease until your own started to fall.

you shut your eyes and held trent as close to you as possible, your shirt slightly wet because of his tears. you wondered how the other players felt when something similar happened to them, if they broke down in their partners' arms as well.

it wasn't easy for them to welcome the vulnerability you assumed— especially if it were over something like hate comments. but it was difficult and they were only trying their best.

"It's okay if you cry, baby. there's no need to apologise," you hushed when he said sorry. "It's normal to feel this way, you're human too and I can't tell you not to let those things get to your head but they're not true."

his silent sobs came to a subtle halt but his head remained on your shoulder as he listened to you speak so softly, telling him that everything was okay.

"you know what you're capable of so don't let anyone tell you what you can and can't do. as long as you know that you have people who support you and are rooting for you, nothing else should matter," you retorted reassuringly in hopes that it would help him realise that he didn't have to worry about things he couldn't control.

it was out of his hands, he lead the arsenal match in pain like a proper leader and that showed immense strength. instead of giving up he pulled through and made sure that the team was at their best before thinking about himself.

you put a small kiss to his temple. "I'm so proud of you. every single waking moment of every day, no matter what happens— I will always be proud of you for doing what you can."

this made trent smile when he finally got up to look at you with glossy eyes. "really?"

you nodded eagerly. "you breathe and I want to scream 'that's my boyfriend'."

that got a laugh out of him and he felt his heart strings tug. he loved you so much for standing by his side no matter what, for being patient and for just being you. he was grateful beyond comprehension and sometimes he felt that he didn't express his love for you the correct amount.

you deserved so much and here you were comforting him at the dead of night because he got insecure. his heart was overflowing just for you.

trent put his hand on your cheek and wiped away the stray tear that fell. "I'm sorry for making you worry. if I do it again just kick me out."

you laughed and his heart exploded. "oh, definitely. pull a stunt like this again and I'll feed you to the wolves."

his eyes widened a fraction. "okay, that's a bit too far."

you disagreed wholeheartedly and told him that it was the only correct form of punishment for the heart attacks that he gave you. "my heart broke like five times in this past week trent, so no."

he hummed and leant in for a kiss. "I'll fix it again I promise."

you felt yourself melt at the touch of his lips on yours— a tender kiss that held so much sincerity and love, an apology slipping through along with a silent I love you.

he pulled away and took a moment to look at you, drinking in every bit of your presence silently to which you hit him on the arm, a giddy smile and blush having you weak in the knees whereas he was mesmerised, not even realising that you had been trying to get his attention for a bit.

"earth to trent," you called and waved your hand in front of your face but he quickly caught it and pulled you closer to him, a yelp leaving your mouth before laughing.

"call me 'trent' one more time and we're going to have a problem," he said through a smile but you just played along, finding it amusing.

"oh really?" your tone was playful and he wasn't having any of it. "well trent wouldn't-- ah!"

your boyfriend had you lying on the couch in a fit of giggles, him hovering over you as he tickled you but stopping every so often to litter kisses on your face which you weren't fighting at all. because everyone needed a little love, right?

[notroosterbradshaw]

Hi can i request number 12 from the prompts list with Rooster please? Thanks

12. Mapping out your lover’s features while they sleep in your arms, smoothing your thumbs down their cheeks, throat, collarbones, chin and nose.

"You do this every time," Rooster sighed, rubbing his honey-coloured eyes. "'Bradley, baby'," he mocked in your over-exaggerated tone as you scoffed. "‘Put on a movie, I wanna snuggle’. Five minutes later, you're out across my chest," he accused as you rolled your eyes, unable to hold back laughter. He had known you long enough... was hard to deny him.

"What am I supposed to do? I cuddle in and you're so warm and smell so good and I just doze off. Sue me," you huffed, inflating his ego at the same time (usually didn’t take a lot), opening the wine and pouring you both a glass. "I don't know why you just don't take it as a compliment and move along, Bradshaw."

He laughed. "Because you put some shitty romcom on and I'm trapped under you until you wake with three minutes left of the movie and pretend you were awake the whole time."

You could only make a face. He was 100% right. No argument was going to help you now.

"I dunno why I'm even asking you this, but humour me, baby: what you wanna watch?" he asked with dread, finding the remote and flicking through movies that were on your watch list. He had picked the last movie (Reservoir Dogs, thanks for asking), so he didn't have a leg to stand on. May as well toss it out there and admit he knew a romcom was in his immediate future if the list he clicked through dismally had anything to do with it.

"It's Flashback Friday, let's watch a classic," You danced around the couch, excitedly and put the wine on the coffee table with the charcuterie board Bradley would eat 93% of himself.

"Shortlist," he insisted.

"Fair," you agreed as he plonked on the couch, and you sat beside him. "Point Break, you'll be hot for Keanu. Will put you in the mood. Point, Bradshaw," he goaded as you tried to get the remote off him. He pushed you back gently. He bopped your nose. "Absolutely not. I'm controlling the remote, thank you."

"Point Break," you contemplated thoughtfully. A twofer really... Keanu, Patrick Swayze -

"Nah, too easy. You don't get to lull me into a false sense of security like that. Keep going," Bradley rolled his eyes.

"Breakfast Club?"

"Not a dealbreaker," Rooster admitted. "Back to the Future?"

"God, you are such an 80's kid," you rolled your eyes.

"Wasn't just my decade, babe," he hissed back as you squinted at him, a man with a death wish. "But of course, you're the latter end. May as well be 90's," he rushed, as you laughed. "You're not getting older, you're just getting sexier," he overcorrected, hoping he'd bridged the gap with his loose lips, his nose from your earlobe to your jaw, leaving a wet, warm kiss against your pulse. He was the dirtiest player in the game and he laughed against your skin, as you enraged him a moment later, dragging your nails into his scalp, giving him a bit of pleasure in return. "God, you're so full of shit…” you somehow managed to get out.

He laughed and shrugged. "Yeah, you’re hating every minute,” he reckoned.

"But it's a short list," you pretended to growl as he kissed your pout. “What about Stand by Me?" you tried, his lips still mashed against yours and you fell into his soft kiss, God, his lips were magical, you loved kissing Bradley Bradshaw. His soft lips, the caress of his tongue -

"Baby, are you actually considering me and what I would like to watch?" he asked, almost touched, he pulled back, a smug look of satisfaction laced all over his face.

"Footloose?"

Apparently not. "Veto."

"Oh, Dirty Dancing!" the tone in your voice telling him that this was your decision, but he couldn't resist, because he kind of loved it when you argued and got all cross and cute... and sometimes if he riled you up just the right amount, a little frisky too.

"VE-TO."

"Bradley Bradshaw, how dare you!" you exclaimed as he broke into a grin and put his hands in the air.

"I give, baby," he admitted. "Just love you all wound up and - "

"Yeah, yeah," you said bashfully. He chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple and he raised his arm to put it across your shoulder to nuzzle in under, pressing play on the flick. The Ronettes 'Be My Baby' started in the background with a noir 1960s underground dancing dirty montage (if you will), flitting across the screen.

"Credit where it's due, this soundtrack is fuckin’ awesome. They just don't make them like they used to."

"Movie soundtracks?" you tucked yourself into his ribs as he adjusted to bend to you. He'd be kidding himself; this was the best part of watching a movie as you curled yourself around him. Maybe the movie would be forgotten and some sexy making out would take over, he wondered.

"Yep," he nodded, plopping a kiss in your hair.

"Yeah, 80's definitely had that going for them. Best 80's soundtrack?" you asked, quickfire.

He frowned while pondering. "Good question... anything John Hughes," he said obviously.

"Flashdance."

"Lost Boys."

"'Purple rain, purple rain'," you sang as Rooster chuckled. You had already missed a good chunk of the movie although you continued to lower yourself until your cheek was resting against his powerful quad and eyes trying in vain to stay open as the movie played on, both of you really not giving it too much of your attention, his large palm sliding under your tee and tracing the back of your ribs, along the bone and the seams of your bra.

Bradley was a human furnace, he was divine to creep up next to, so you did just that only encouraging him. It didn’t surprise him that you’d dozed off.

Fuck. And the remote was just out of his reach to turn off the movie. He lived for times like this. He’d be able to watch the game.  Any goddamn game would have been just perfect. He didn’t care if his teams weren’t playing. Baseball, football, basketball. Oh, were the Lakers playing tonight?

Slumbering partner, booze and the inability to reach the remote. He struggled to reach but it was just out of his grasp. “Shit,” he muttered as you wrapped your soft palm around his knee and he sighed, taking you in. A rare beauty, he knew, momentarily caught up that you were his. He must have done something right in a previous life to have you walk into this life. His fingertip tenderly traced your eyebrow and the slope of your nose as you mumbled in your sleep and he hesitated, pulling his hand back.

You adjusted your posture to rest your cheek on his thigh, your face towards his tummy and he chuckled quietly. “You’re not that asleep…”

“Little bit asleep,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his waist, cool fingers drifting against the golden soft skin of his lower back.

“Bed?” he murmured, his thumb drifting across your soft lips as you shook your head, eyes still closed. A moment later, you yawned, but clearly weren’t interested in being roused so he kept playing with your features, his hands sinking into your hair and he bit back a grin as you almost mewled like a kitten. He didn’t say anything but was surprised at how much of a sucker for his touch you were. You only encouraged him, by cuddling in further and he reached down to press a kiss into your forehead, against the scar on your eyebrow. You hated it, but he loved it. The mar of perfection against your sweet features would always be his favourite. It matched his.

He felt your breathing change against him and knew you’d fallen asleep again, deeper and he knew you were out. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple, the smell of your 45-step hair care routine wafting into his nostrils and feeling a little dizzy himself, warmed. Luckiest bastard he knew as he spied the small remote you never used and his eyes widened, excitedly. Within reach, he swiped it and turned down the volume of the film.

Within a few moments and the apps changed, the Lakers were on his screen. He pushed the remote into the side of the couch so he wouldn’t lose it, took his wine in his free hand and made himself comfy. May as well make the most of his Friday night…

SEND ME A PROMPT, I’LL WRITE YOU A DRABBLE.

A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x

[tkaulitzlvr]

HEYYY sorry if this is kinda long but ur my fav writer so i trust u w writing this 🤞

Could you write smth where tom used to be a player but he started dating the reader and seemed really loyal, but they go to a party together, their first party as a couple and when the reader leaves to go buy drinks she comes back to find tom sitting down with a bunch of girls, it looks like he’s flirting with them. sooo the reader gets really upset and walks all the way home thinking he’s cheating already even after only dating for like a month. tom follows her home, trying to explain himself and he eventually explains that he wasn’t cheating, he was trying to get away from all the girls politely, but was kinda trapped. the reader forgives him and it ends in smut or fluff or whatever u want.

SORRY ITS SO SPECIFIC LMAOOO

WHAT IT SEEMS - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom has finally managed to settle down with you, discarding his womanising ways. but, you see something that makes you think otherwise, tom desperate to explain himself to you, certain that you have got the wrong idea.

content: angst + fluff

a/n: love this idea, thank u so much for the request i hope u enjoy !! this is lowk ass tho i’m so sorry😭😭

“we really don’t have to go schatz, i know you don’t like these sorts of places.” tom repeats, standing in the frame of the bathroom door as i apply my make-up in the mirror. “we can stay here instead, i’ll get some snacks from the store, just me and you?”

he tries to reason with me, knowing that i’ve never been a party person. i hated large groups of people, not understanding the buzz that people got from drinking unsafe amounts of alcohol and fucking some random, the idea literally my worst nightmare. i preferred to stay inside and watch a movie, or bake something, finding comfort in familiarity, never described as an extroverted person.

tom however, was the complete opposite. he was a party animal, ending up at a different club every night, with a different girl between the sheets after he left. that is why our relationship was so unexpected, but it seems that tom had changed. he settled down, spending less and less time out at a random bar, instead spending his nights with me, soon realising that the party scene wasn’t something i enjoyed. at first, i was hesitant to believe that he had changed his ways completely, but, a month into our relationship, he has given me no reason to not trust him, this the reason why i am deciding to finally give in and go to just one party, tom having missed out for so long. but he is clearly confused by my change of heart, trying to remind me that he is more than okay with not going, growing to enjoy quiet nights at home.

“tom i’m fine. you haven’t been to a party in forever.” i start, blinking rhythmically as i apply my mascara, before moving backwards away from the mirror and turning to face him. “besides, i can’t stay locked up here forever. i have to live a little.”

he tilts his head, still uncertain despite my clear lack of hesitation. his lips purse together as he walks towards me, resting his hands on my hips. i can tell that he is questioning it, part of him missing the parties that he used to go to. but the new and sensible part of him, the part that is more prominent now, silently reminds himself of how much he has grown to love spending time with me and only me, coming to the conclusion that parties were never as fun as he had sometimes made them out to be, much preferring my company to getting shitfaced in some random club.

“there’s other ways to have fun besides getting wasted all the time. i like that about you. you don’t have to be drunk to have fun.” he says, kissing my forehead softly.

“i want to go.” i state, looking upwards at him, my eyes wide as i attempt to convince him to calm down a little.

“are you sure baby? i don’t want to force you into doing anything you’re uncomfortable with. you know i’d hate myself if you got there and didn’t like it. i’d much rather we-”

i cut him off by pressing my lips against his, sealing his over dramatic rambling with a short kiss. “i’ll be fine, okay?” i reassure him, my forehead against his.

he lets out a small smile, sighing heaving before speaking. “fine, get ready. but if you don’t like it, we’re leaving straight away. deal?”

i roll my eyes at his protectiveness, my heart melting at how much he cares. though it is a little frustrating, i can’t be mad at him, nodding my head slowly as a chuckle leaves my lips, my body turning back towards the mirror as i finish applying my make-up, my small crop top and tight skirt already on. tom walks behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, letting his hands rest on my stomach, before resting his head in my neck, planting gentle kisses there as i finish the rest of my makeup, small giggles leaving my mouth when his lips touch a sensitive spot on my neck, or his hands gently squeeze my stomach and his fingers slightly tickle the skin. he smiles behind me, his eyes calm and half-lidded, dreads resting over his shoulders and draping onto mine as he slowly rocks us side to side, continuing to kiss my neck from behind until i am finally finished.

the walk to the club is short, tom’s hand staying clasped in mine as we wander through the darkened streets, few people and the occasional car driving by us. i prefer peaceful nights like this, time to admire the city, rather than being face first in the crowds that daytime brought along with them. tom is speaking about something random, a lazy smile tugging on my lips as i look upwards, not particularly focusing on what he is saying, instead admiring his features - eyes fixed on the way his brown eyes shine, occasional smile gracing his face as he speaks, tongue grazing against his lip piercing. i take in this rare moment, though to some it is simple, to me it is something to be treasured, happy to listen to whatever tom is saying, finding it adorable how he gets so into a conversation when it is about something he cares for.

my cold breath leaves my lips as i exhale, reminding me how bitter the weather is, despite the warmth that the jacket tom had insisted on letting me wear brings me. occasional laughter emits from our mouths, sharing pointless conversation, enjoying the simplicity of each other’s company, our content exchange soon cut off by the sound of overly-loud music, signalling that we have arrived.

the queue to get in is longer than i had expected, tom not phased by this as the bouncer seems to recognise him, flashing him a quick smile and letting the both of us in. it is completely packed, drunken bodies encircling my vision, this enough for me to become easily overwhelmed. tom realises this, bending downwards so that his voice can be heard over the loud music.

“you okay? we can leave if you don’t like it.” he squeezes my hand as he speaks, bringing me into his embrace, his hands now running up and down my arms.

i shake my head, not wanting to leave before i had even given the place a chance. i let out a small ‘i’m fine’ in response, tom nodding his head and leading me through the crowd, looking downwards at me every few seconds, his hand never leaving mine until we emerge, arriving at a smaller section cut off from the rest of the club, being what i assume as the VIP section. the staff there recognise tom like the bouncer had, letting him in as we find a couch and table unoccupied.

he flops onto it, spreading his legs and wrapping his arm around my shoulder as i sit beside him, his other resting on the back of the couch. he scans the area, his lips pursed, head lazily nodding to the beat of the music, fingers tapping against my shoulder.

“you okay?” he shouts over the music, looking over at me and planting a small kiss on my forehead, pulling me closer into his side.

i nod my head, pointing a finger over to the bar. “i think i’m gonna go get a drink. you want one?”

he seems hesitant to let me go, his face falling a little, seemingly surprised at my willingness to walk around alone. the place somehow seems to feel busier, the bar totally packed, scattered with glasses, some empty, some practically full. but i figure that if i want to put myself out there more, i can’t rely on tom to be by my side, wanting to do this small thing alone.

“you sure baby? i can come with you?” he asks, looking upwards and seeing how crowded it has become.

“i’ll be fine. you can see the bar from here anyways, it’s not like anything can happen.” i say, pointing out the direct view our table has to the bar. though it is a little far away, past the small crowd of people forming there, it is in our eye line, tom able to maintain a perfect view of me.

“okay, but i’m watching the whole time. if anything happens i’ll be right over.” he gives in, though i can tell by his tone he is still reluctant. despite this, i stand up, pulling my skirt down a little bit. “and get me a beer please schatz.”

his hand plants a small squeeze on my ass, my body whipping around to scold him, yet my eyes are met with that same infamous smirk, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as i shake my head, a low chuckle escaping my lips. i walk over to the bar, reaching it successfully after pushing through a few wasted bodies. i turn around, squinting my eyes to try and spot tom, seeing that he is still alone, his own eyes searching to meet mine. he spots me, sending me a small smile and wave, his face visibly calming down once i am within his sight.

i turn back around towards the bar, resting my frame against the hard wood. a tall man comes towards me from the other side, nodding for me to order.

“a beer and a piña colada, thanks.” i say, pulling out a twenty dollar bill from my purse and pressing it flat against the table.

he nods, taking the money and starting to prepare the drinks. i awkwardly tap my fingers against the wood as i wait, the music seeming to get louder, leaving me with a pounding headache. my body is warm, unsure of whether it is the proximity of sweaty figures dancing around me, or the sweltering air, everything in the room feeling ten times closer than it would outside.

he places the drinks against the table, shooting me a small smile as i take them, returning the gesture and turning around. my eyes catch a small glimpse of tom from where i am stood, quickly doing a double take as i realise that he is not alone. from a distance, i can spot at least four girls, two at either side of him. he appears pretty content, a large grin from ear to ear as he engages in conversation, the girls way too close for my liking. they are practically up against him, wearing next to nothing, their bodies covered with dresses so skimpy i wouldn’t have bothered wearing anything at all.

he seems completely comfortable, the only difference in how he was sat before being that his hands had moved from either side of the couch, now resting in his lap. i can see him shake his head, that flirty smile never faltering. however i reach my breaking point when one girl leans closer, about to place her hand on his thigh. that’s when i lose it.

i storm towards the table, tom’s attention quickly turning to me as the eyes of the girls sat beside him all turn to me too, curious to see what has been able to divert his attention so easily. his face softens as he seems somewhat glad to see me, this only angering me more. one second, he is entertaining girls because i leave for a minute, then his eyes light up as i return, as if he hadn’t looked at them with that same grin i have seen way too many times before - all before we started dating. my jaw is clenched, eyes cold and harsh as i slam the drinks down onto the table, part of the liquid splashing out of the tall glass from the force.

“there’s your fucking drink, asshole.” i scoff, shaking my head and turning around, starting to find my way through the large crowd in the centre.

i can hear his voice behind me, constantly calling my name as he forces his way through the crowd, only a few steps behind me. i ignore his pleas, feeling like a complete idiot for believing that he had changed.

“get out of my fucking way!” i shout over the music, pushing the last few people out of my way, my eyes finally meeting the exit, leaving it quickly, tom still following me as he continues to be persistent, my name pouring from his lips every few seconds.

the night is even colder than it was when we had arrived, my entire body shivering once i emerge onto the empty street, the distorted blur of music no longer helping to drown out the sound of tom’s voice as it seems to get closer and closer. i continue to shrug him off, speeding up as my heels click across the pavement. my hands run up and down my arms in an attempt to warm myself up, now without the comfort of tom’s jacket to keep my temperature high, my small and tight outfit providing no warmth at all.

however, my fast steps are no longer enough to keep myself distanced from tom as i feel his hand on my shoulder, the strength of its hold causing me to stop in my tracks.

“jesus christ, baby, what the fuck?” he asks, out of breath, his chest heaving up and down as i face him, his eyes heavy and filled with confusion once he processes the hurt etched upon my face.

“don’t fucking touch me!” i scoff, roughly detaching my shoulder from his head, my eyes becoming glassy, both from the harshness of the wind and the reality that tom hadn’t ever changed his ways as i had thought. “just fuck off, you’ve done enough. and i actually thought you were different, how fucking naive can i be?”

i turn around, starting to walk away again. yet he speeds up, jogging and moving to stand in front of me, completely trapping me.

“baby, please it’s not what it looks like.” he pleads, his own expression now filled with desperation as he begs for me to hear him out, my mind set on what it had seen - no explanation able to change that.

“really? so i didn’t see those girls all over you?” i challenge, shaking my head as a sarcastic chuckle leaves my lips, in disbelief of how stupid he is making me out to be.

“you’re blowing this way out of proportion! you’ve got the complete wrong idea schatz.” he says, his own voice raising a little as he becomes frustrated.

“do you know how unbelievable you are? i should’ve known, i was never good enough to make you want to settle down.” the tears cascade down my cheeks, my teeth sinking into my lips as i quickly move around him, walking away once again.

but, he doesn’t accept my desire to leave, taking my hand and pulling me backwards, his eyes glossy with tears, his sudden display of emotion taking me by surprise.

“liebe, please can you just listen to me for a second?” he sighs, his voice wavering as he speaks. i stay silent, the tears pouring down my face, yet he takes my lack of response as a sign to continue. “they came over to me. i told them straight away that i wasn’t interested.”

i furrow my eyebrows, a mixture of guilt and disbelief taking over. one part of me feels terrible for not letting him explain, this whole thing my fault if he is telling the truth. but, the more infuriated side of me doesn’t believe him for a second, refusing to even consider that he brushed them off, tom never being the type to refuse a girl’s company. and it is this anger within me that acts out, cutting his explanation short.

“fucking bullshit. do you think i’m an idiot-”

he cuts me off, continuing to explain. despite my cold tone, he remains calm, taking my hands in his own, his eyes softly looking into mine as he speaks.

“i told them my girlfriend is here, and i’m not interested. they wouldn’t give in. i didn’t want to be rude, you know i’m not like that. but i didn’t let them do anything. didn’t you see how i was sitting? i’ve never had my arms closer to me in my life!”

he lets out a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little. but once he sees that i am in no mood to joke around, he shakes his head, straightening his expression before continuing.

“i was literally about to get up to come and find you, but then you came over. i get that it might’ve looked weird from far away, but i promise you.” he trails off, taking one step closer to me, reluctantly reaching upwards to gently graze his thumb across my cheek, applying a little more pressure once i accept his touch. “i promise you that i shut it down straight away. i want you and only you.”

both of his hands cup my face, his thumbs running comfortingly over the soft skin, his eyes scanning mine as he awaits my response, my mind working at a million miles per minute as i try to find the right words. though i am still angry, now more at the girls than him, it is impossible to ignore the sincerity of his words, guilt rising within my stomach as i feel nothing but regret for not trusting him.

“i’m sorry.” i mutter, removing my eyes from his own as i stare at the ground, salty tears rolling down my face more than they had before.

“hey, hey…” he trails off, lifting my chin with his pointer finger, his face falling once he sees my state. he plants a soft kiss to my lips whilst his fingers wipe away the tears resting on my cheeks. i kiss back, his lips soft and warm, enough to calm me down instantly.

he pulls back, resting his arms on my lower waist as his forehead sits against mine.

“you can always trust me. i’d never, ever, cheat on you. i’m sorry for how i used to be, and if i could change it, i promise you that i would, in a heartbeat. i want to be better, for you. you mean more to me than anyone else in this world, and i want to show it. you just have to let me try. okay?”

his lips stay parted as his slightly ragged breathing fans against my face, his warmth contrasting with the harshness of the climate around us.

“okay.” i say, nodding my head. he brings his lips to mine, smiling into the kiss as i gladly reciprocate, feeling his hands bring me closer into him.

“come on, let’s get you home.” he says, pulling away and holding his hand out for me to take. i smile warmly, intertwining my fingers with his as he pulls me closer, kissing my forehead gently. we begin the short walk home, tom stopping after a few seconds. he pulls his jacket off, tugging it along his frame. he takes a sleeve, gently threading my arm through it, repeating his motion with my other arm, until the material completely submerges me, my body warming up almost instantly.

he smiles downwards at me, kissing my cheek quickly, noticing the way a loud yawn escapes my lips after he does so. he bends down, placing one arm behind my neck, the other scooping me upwards by my legs as he carries me bridal style, a surprised gasp leaving my mouth at his actions, however it soon turns into a loud giggle once he begins planting large kisses across my face. he is grinning from ear to ear, his heart warming at the happiness plastered on my face, his hold on me tightening as he places one last kiss to my nose.

his arms remain securely around me as he walks slowly, the rocking motion of his steps causing my eyes to feel heavy, my eyelids beginning to fall shut, on the verge of falling asleep. my breathing slows, close to slipping into unconsciousness, however tom’s low voice prevents me from doing so. he clearly thinks that i have fallen asleep, yet i hear the phrase pour from his lips as clear as day.

“i love you.”

requests are open! keep sending them in, there’s a lot in my inbox atm but i’ll get to it as soon as i can!!

[arcadiabaytornado]

Hi! Happy Friday October 11 lol.

I’ve been hearing some people calling max and Chloe’s relationship codependent, and although I get the vibes, I was wondering if you could give some more in depth insight and explanations if you haven’t already/if you’re interested?

I am SO interested in talking about this! I love Pricefield, but easily the most unhealthy part of their relationship is the codependency they display.

Max will destroy herself for Chloe. I know that sounds like hyperbole.. but when you take lines like "I don't care what happens me. I have to make sure Chloe's safe." into account...it's not. And we see that it's not during the multiple times Max puts herself in danger on Chloe's behalf.

Just off the top of my head, Max: A: Tries to ambush Nathan during the Vortex Club party so Chloe can get her revenge, despite the fact that Max knows how dangerous he is. B: Confronts Frank at his RV to try and get information Chloe wants. C: Follows a weird text to the junkyard to try and protect the remains of someone Chloe cares about...which gets her kidnapped by Mark Jefferson. D: Drives through a dangerous storm to get to the diner so she can have the photo that will bring her back to Chloe.

There are more examples than the ones I listed above, but those are the four that first four that came to my head.

But it's not just herself Max will destroy for Chloe. She'll destroy the entire town. Which...LOOK. I always sacrifice Arcadia Bay. To ME that is the canon ending. HOWEVER...Max does bring a wave of death and destructive over a town to save the life of one person.

More Undercut

It's more complicated than that, of course. LIS is a game that asks the question "How far would you go for someone you love" and then waits for the player to answer. But like...at it's least nuanced core...the sacrifice Arcadia Bay ending is Max choosing mass destruction over letting Chloe go. Which does say something about their relationship that pairs uneasily with the fact that Max would also chose Chloe over herself.

Then we have Chloe. Chloe doesn't have time travel powers so she can't be quite as destructive as Max can...but she gives it a good effort. When Max leaves for five years without a word, Chloe spirals and becomes reckless and borderline suicidal. This is also because of the loss of her Father, but it's clear that Max's absence did a good amount of damage on it's own.

Chloe doesn't let Max go once in five years. She keeps photo's and memento's from their childhood strewn about her room, and when Max comes back, she becomes somewhat possessive over her presence. (EX: When she gets upset that Max answered Kate's phone call. And texting Warren to tell him that Max is off the table if they kiss.)

Chloe becomes just as dependent on Max as Max becomes on Chloe, which puts them in this cycle of dependency that lasts all the way until the end of episode 5. Where, ironically, Max saving Chloe and their relationship continues their pattern of codependency, while sacrificing Chloe breaks it in the most painful way possible.

So what does that mean for Pricefield if their relationship is codependent? Does it make their relationship unhealthy? Well...in my opinion as someone who loves Pricefield...I do think their relationship is unhealthy in a certain way. They're willing put each other before the world and before themselves....which is romantic on paper but when you really start digging into that it becomes not great.

However, I would also argue that their codependency is what makes their relationship so interesting to watch. After all, would it really be as compelling if Max just shrugged her shoulders and let Chloe go without a fight? Because I don't think it would be.

And I think that's really the entire point. Max and Chloe are two people willing to defy time and fate just to be together, and that makes them compelling. It also makes them destructive. But that destruction IS the intrigue.

[mommahughes19-23]

No one else but you - Q.H

@_quinnhughes : the number one love of my life❤️ y/n 2 years is the amount of time you have stuck by me, when I came to Vancouver I didn't know it would gift me with the best fucking girl a guy could ask for. I love you for life babygirl💓❤️‍🔥💓❤️‍🔥💓❤️‍🔥💓❤️‍🔥

tagged : @y/username

location : heaven

y/username : QUINN FUCKING HUGHES YOU ASSHOLE! IM CRYING IN THE CLUB OMG. I LOVE YOU MORE THAN YOU WILL EVER KNOW AND THANK YOU FOR BEING THE BEST THING TO HAPPEN FOR A CANADA GIRLY LIKE MEEEE 💓❤️

bboeser : this almost made me throw up 🤢

↪ _eliaspettersson : @bboeser for real dude like @_quinnhughes we get it you got the girl.

tdemko30 : happy for ya Quinny and Y/N but y'all are for sure breaking hearts out here

ilyamikheev66 : HUGGY DIDN't WE TALK ABOUT WHAT POSTING YOUR GIRL DOES TO THIS TEAM! tears us apart smh

↪ _quinnhughes : sorry not sorry that she picked me 😬🤫

↪ y/username : OMG Y'ALL I WOULDNT HAVE PICKED ANY ONE IF I KNEW IT CAUSED ISSUES .... and @tdemko30 LEXIE GAVE ME PREMISSION!!!!

bmarch63 : oh damn she your girl ... could have done better with a real man who actually takes and dishes hits 🤡🤷🏻‍♀️ how's the cheek there huggy bear? 🤨

↪ j.tmiller9 : PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me that this was a hack PLEASE

↪ _quinnhughes : @bmarch63 .... you can't be anywhere close to serious with that comment bud. 🤬🤬🤨😤🫨

↪ bboeser : @_quinnhughes PLEASE let me and Coley take him is2g 🤬🤬

↪ y/username : Hey there @bmarch63 it's me... first off how are you going to claim you take hits but throw yourself to the floor when the ref taps you... second off at least Q doesn't cry every other game he plays... and third YOUR SCARY PLEASE GO AWAY I DON'T LIKE YOU🫨

icole28 : o m g @y/username really just did the damn thing... I still second Brocks idea though🤨😤

jackhughes : Watch the fuck out next time we play you it's ON FUCKING SITE I swear. @bmarch63🤬🤬🤬🤬

lhughes_06: goddamn I leave for ONE SUMMER and someones trying it with my future sister wtf is wrong with you big boy @bmarch63 🤬🤨🫨

nicohischier : um as a captain myself and a friend of both y/n and Quinn expect the ENTIRE devils team to be completely ok with some minor penalties against u🤬😤

↪ _quinnhughes : ^ same with the Canucks big bud.

A.N:

FIRST CAN WE PLEASE IGNORE THE CHANGING HAIR COLOR THANKS ILY.

Ok so this was based off my first request: "Omggg I'd be so lovely if you could make one where Quinn hughes is just head over heels for his girl, and he makes this appreciation post with pics he secretly took from her and everyone in the comments just pretending to be annoyed by them but also maybe one player from another team kinda comments like "oh she's you girl?" Cuz he saw her and was into her, creating this sort of jealous/possessive thing in the comments section not just from quinn but everyone who loves em"

made by the LOVE OF MY LIFE NOW @skylershines :) I REALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT and I am so sorry it wasn't quite as long or as interesting as I had hoped to make it but I hope to get better and better with each post :)

Any and all respectful feedback is welcome and I just recently redid my navigation to make it a little easier so I now have a list of who I write for and an ask box :)

xoxoxoxoxoxo, M

[archaicbro]

i think pensblr needs to put the honeytrap jokes away for a moment and realize how kyle dubas completely changed the leafs organization from the cesspool of paranoia, old boy's club mentality, and dyed in the wool haughtiness about their fading, decrepit legacy that it was around lou lamoriello's time

off the top of my head, there is legitimate concern, hurt, anger, and confusion kyle's sudden dismissal brought to the org. staff members who were willing to ride the year out with kyle without future prospects were persuaded by kyle to accept the 1 to 3 year bridge deals he negotiated on their behalf for their and their family's security. team members spoke anonymously about their—to put it mildly—disappointment with how the brief negotiations shook out.

that's because kyle, from the moment he was promoted to AGM after helping the marlies win the calder cup for the first time in franchise history, has always placed an emphasis on fostering an environment in which every person is valued, and given the best conditions to thrive in. to him, it's simple: value your employees and players, and they will give you endless passion.

SPEAKING OF WHICH

"the passion": it's in kyle's blood. it was in him as a child, crying about another leafs exit;

it was in him as as a first time gm of the sault ste marie greyhounds in 2011, when he wanted to capture "the passion, energy, and enthusiasm of the organization and the city of Sault Ste. Marie" through The Rising, the 100-page blueprint in a binder that presented a vision of a memorial cup-winning greyhounds;

it was in him when he talked to brendan shanahan (boo tomato tomato) for nine hours and convinced the leafs pres that he was somebody who would make the leafs "a better organization if he joins us."

he wanted to see this passion reflected naturally in his staff and especially his players.

developing players, for kyle, was never just about their on-ice performance. their immersion and willingness to be in the community they play for, especially for marginalized sectors, and seeing that they play for more than a logo was important to kyle. he wanted them to develop as people too—leaving books in player stalls aside—because he cares for them as much as he cares for his staff.

just look at him staying at the hospital with ilya mikheyev for three days in new jersey when mikheyev's wrist was slit by a hockey blade

or him flying to switzerland to talk to william nylander and his camp about his contract, and telling him multiple times that "as long as he’s here he’s not going to trade me.”

or defending mitch marner against the maddened mob, time and again

OR him running down from the press box, hurriedly calling aryne tavares as he rushes to where john tavares was laid out on the ice, because he "would never want the family to not be aware of what was happening."

(or kyle offering jason spezza a position in the front office, possibly before retirement, and engendering such loyalty in him that spezza walked out after him)

how his players feel is important to kyle as it affects everything about their performance: "...we want to convey to the players is that, yes, we’re here to try to maximize their potential as players and as athletes, but players aren’t going to be able to maximize their potential if the person is not at their best, whether it’s because of relationship issues or mental health issues."

building a holistic hockey team has been kyle's dream since he woke up one day unable to pursue a career in hockey on-ice. once it was clear from age 14 that he will never play professionally, he poured his life into winning the cup from the office.

he believes it's his sole responsibility "to combine wanting to be an organization that's about getting the best out of every single person, and being able to parlay that into the organization having its greatest amount of success". he wants everyone to see how their individual contributions, no matter how small, impact the team at large.

analytics and this set of personal criteria set the bar for his hires. and once he sees a person buy in, he buys in to them too.

maybe to a fault.

kyle considered moving his core back in 2021, despite stubbornly fighting for them for years, acquiring mentors who would teach them how to ground themselves, coaching each player to block out the external noise of pundits and malicious fans—to believing in themselves and the team they are a part of.

"the time for sentiment has come and gone," he said. he's learned, year after year, that hard work hardly works. that, perhaps, he should not be as loyal or patient to the vision he shares with his team.

but these very traits—loyalty, patience, hard work, passion—lead to the maple leafs making it out of the first round of the playoffs for the first time in 19 years.

19 years. the age kyle was when the leafs fell to the flyers in the second round in 2004.

and yet, for everything he did. well.

we did our raging. our complaining. but you would never see kyle do the same.

"“What makes him unique is that he’ll never sit back and complain about something,” said Megan Dubas, who worked alongside her brother as the Greyhounds director of game-day operations and community relations. “He’s always so positive. He’s never made excuses for himself if he failed. He would never blame anyone else. He would take the responsibility for that. And his ability to learn and take everything in is unbelievable.”

the pens are inheriting this man. this man who wants others to believe in the tean who believes in them. who understands how your humanity can transform the space you are in. who knows, intimately, that you need to be patient, push out of your comfort zone to do your best work, make people feel how loyal you are to this dream you are building together.

the passion that will see you blaze a path to your destiny.

and given how the pens core are shaped by these qualities, i think our team is in the right hands.

[multifandomfanfic]

could you do something where ronaldo is your ex and you broke up because he cheated but he saw you with another man at a party and he got really jealous??

Cold Air

Word Count: ~2.2k

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Sorry this took so long and sorry if any descriptions of Qatar are inaccurate. Just suspend reality for a bit :)) (also, I proof-read this, but it hasn’t had a second pair of eyes look at it)

The city lights passed by your car as you made your way to the club. The World Cup was in full swing and, today, Portugal had beaten Switzerland by five goals. You wrinkled your nose. Portugal. As good of a team they were, any mention of their team, and especially a certain player, left a foul taste on your tongue. 

It wasn't like you didn't love Ronaldo. You did.., well, you had loved him at one point. Months ago you had been positive your relationship was going to last forever; you were living together, you went with him to his events, and you were even certain you had spied an engagement ring in his bag once. All of that was squashed within seconds thanks to Ronaldo’s unlocked phone and a few Instagram DMs. 

Within days, you had moved out of your shared house and into an apartment far away from Manchester. Ronaldo agreed to pay the first year of your rent in return for you not going public about his infidelity, but you took the high road. You did not need his help and, after what he did to you, you decided that you did not want to have any connection to him any longer. Enough was enough.

But here you were, in Qatar, the day his team beat the Swiss.

Your phone vibrated and you dug it out of your purse. 

I'll have to leave a little early tonight, Emi texted you.

What? Why?

Coach wants us to get at least eight hours of sleep before some extra practice in the morning. He explained, I'm free to do whatever you want tomorrow night.

You groaned and slumped back into the car seat. Great. Just great. The only reason you were going to this club was to celebrate Emi’s friend’s birthday, whom you had never met. In fact, you hardly knew anybody on his team. You had spent so much time with Portugal and Manchester United that you hadn’t become acquainted with any of the other teams. Besides, you had only been seeing Emi for a couple of months. 

“Is this it?” your driver asked. 

“Yes, this is it,” you sighed. The cold night air raised goosebumps on your skin as soon as you pushed open the door. It was refreshing and briefly distracted your mind from the awkwardness awaiting you inside.

The bouncer opened the rope as you approached. The club’s exterior was lit by LED lights, beckoning people to venture inside. Quite a crowd had amounted outside, drawn by the possibility of seeing a world-class futball player in person. They watched you as you entered the building. Who were you? And why were you here?

The interior of the bar was as exuberant and bright as the exterior. The only difference was the number of people crammed within its walls. Bodies were pressed against each other, moving to the music blaring from the speakers. Two bartenders were hurriedly making drinks for the growing crowd. They had been instructed to prioritize the futball players and serve them first, but they were struggling to keep up with that demand.

You scanned the throngs of people. One or two of the men close to you looked familiar, but the lights were set just dim enough that you couldn’t distinguish people from a distance. Their forms blended into one, swaying mass.

Person after person bumped and shoved you (whether on accident or on purpose, you couldn’t tell) as you forged your way to the bar. Surely, there were too many people in the club to be safe, but nobody paid attention. They were all having fun. You were the walking embodiment of dread.

You tugged on the end of your dress. It wasn’t yours–one of the players’ girlfriends had lent it to you–and it wasn’t exactly your taste either. The color was off and it fell awkwardly on your thighs. Anyone who knew you would know the dress was not your first choice. 

“Excuse me?” you asked the bartender closest to you, “Can I get one of those?”

The mixture of alcohol he was making was taking all of his attention, and he made no effort to respond. You groaned, leaned against the bartop, and began people-watching. There was no sight of Ronaldo or Emi. You weren’t expecting Ronaldo to be there, but you could never be too sure. 

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called from behind you.

You turned around and smiled, “Emi!” 

He pushed his way through the crowd, nodding and grinning at his friends. You recognized none of them, despite going to many of Emi’s games. Maybe you were too stuck in the past.

Once he reached you, Emi grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him. 

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, leaning over slightly and began kissing your neck. Several people’s eyes landed on the two of you. 

“Babe, please,” you whispered, “Not in public.”

He stepped back, “Why not?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable with it, ok?” you replied. To be honest, you had no idea why it made you so uneasy. People looking at you was one thing, but something else was off.

Emi smirked and loosened his grip on your waist, “Fine. But I will be seeing you tomorrow night.”

“It’s a date,” you chuckled. He left you one more kiss on your lips as he started to back away. He smiled and nodded his head goodbye. Before you knew it, Emi had disappeared into the mass of people.

The bartender continued to pay attention to other patrons, leaving you drinkless and bored. There was a full-length mirror behind the back of the bar. You examined yourself in it, rubbing off the lipstick that had made its way off of your lips and adjusting your hair so it fell just right on your face. A figure began to form behind you. Someone was making their way to the spot to your left. The way the lights were positioned and flashing, you could not tell who it was.. that is, until they spoke.

He ordered two of your favorite drink and, like clockwork, the bartender had them finished within seconds.

“You look good,” he almost mumbled as he took the first sip from his drink. His eyes scanned your figure, soaking in every aspect of how the dress fell on your body. You could have slapped him, “Although, I wouldn’t peg you as the type of girl to wear something like that.”

“What do you want, Ronaldo?” you spat. His face changed for a moment at the use of his last name instead of Cristiano–what you used to call him–but, within seconds, it was back to his usual, sly look. On the other hand, you could feel your face turning red. Months of pent-up rage and regret flooded back into your head. Why had you come here? Why did he have to be here?

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said as you picked up your drink. You slammed it back down on the counter. A little sloshed over the edge and the bartender immediately wiped it with his towel. He scowled at you but smiled at Ronaldo. You pushed the glass to the farthest point on the bar that you could reach. You refused to drink it. That would make it seem like you were diving in.

“I asked you what you wanted,” you seethed, arms crossed across your chest, “Can you answer my question?”

He rolled his eyes and looked around as if you were the only person in the room who did not know what he was going to say. He then leaned closer, “You could do much better than an Argentinian. That’s all I wanted to say.”

You froze. Your mouth hung agape, your mind was apparently empty of any good comebacks. After a moment you managed a “Are you kidding me?” and a small, all-too-exaggerated laugh. The audacity this man had. He cheated on you, not the other way around. 

“Do you think I’m joking? I’m just stating the obvious, darling,” Ronaldo smirked. He leaned against the bar, drink in hand. Triumph was written all over his face. 

You pulled out twenty dollars from your purse and slammed it onto the bar to cover your drink. You stood up straight, staring your adversary in the eyes. 

“I’m done with your bullshit, Ronaldo. Do I need to remind you whose fault it was that we broke up? It wasn’t me!,” you shouted just loud enough so the people closest to you could hear, “Have a good life.”

You stormed past him, purposely bumping into his shoulder on the way to the back. Your feet carried you past the mob of bodies. Instead of annoying you, they acted to your benefit, creating an almost impenetrable sea for Ronaldo to cross to get to you. You made it to the back exit swiftly and, without hesitating, escaped the room.

The chilly air greeted you like an old friend. Your dress was hardly enough to keep you warm, but it didn’t matter. Compared to the inside of the bar and its patrons, it felt more friendly and calm in the frigid night.

You pulled out your phone and started searching for an Uber to take you home. You began walking down the alleyway, enveloped in the screen in front of you rather than paying attention to your surroundings. That was why you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a cold hand grab a hold of your arm.

You whipped around and tried to strike the attacker with your bag but, after a moment, you saw that it was none other than Ronaldo. Despite recognizing him, you still managed to hit him with your purse. You ripped your arm from his grasp and backed up. You weren’t truly scared of him, not at all, but he repulsed you so much that you wanted to distance yourself from him as much as you possibly could.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you exclaimed.

“Y/N, listen to m–”

“No, tell me what you think you’re doing!”

“I don’t know what I–” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and shifting his weight.

“You don’t know what you’re do–”

“Y/N, would you just listen to me, please?!” Ronaldo finally begged. He stood with his arms extended to you, silently pleading with you to let him speak, “Please?”

You checked your phone and then crossed your arms, “You have two minutes, Ronaldo, then I never want to see you again.”

“That’s fine, that’s perfect,” he took a step back. He looked at the sky as he took a deep breath. The stars were shining down on the two of you, illuminating the alleyway just enough that you could see Ronaldo’s breath and the sweat dripping down his face. What was bothering him so much?

He sighed, exasperated with his own thoughts, “Y/N, I.. you know I love you right?”

You did not reply, nod, or shake your head. You kept your eyes glued on him but, on the inside, your stomach was turning. This conversation could lead nowhere good. In the months since your break-up, you had thought about getting back together plenty of times. Yet, in reality, you could never let yourself do that. He cheated on you once. He had broken your trust. That could not happen again.

“I know you do. And I know, I hope, that deep down you still love me,” Ronaldo continued, trying to get any reaction out of you, but none came, “I will never love another woman as much as I love you. You were the light of my life, the thing that made me smile every single day without fail. You enchant me, Y/N,  and I went and screwed everything up. Will you forgive me?”

You scoffed, your arms only crossing tighter in front of your chest, “Don’t give me this ‘I love you most ardently’-esque crap. You cheated on me, Ronaldo. I have proof!”

“And I regret it every day! Y/N, you don’t understand how much I’ve beat myself up over this. I love you! You make me happy!”

“Ronaldo, if I really made you happy, frankly, we would not be in this situation right now,” you said, pursing your lips. You shrugged, “I am sorry, but I can’t forgive you.”

With that, a grey sedan drove to the end of the alleyway behind you. You checked the description on your phone–it was your ride.

“That’s me,” you said. The amount of water vapor in front of Ronaldo’s mouth only increased as he grew angrier and more confused. His mind was running, trying to find some solution to have you back, or to get you to at least forgive him, but he could not find one.

“Can you at least call me Cristiano?” he finally called out as you started to walk away.

You turned around. After a moment, you nodded, and made eye contact with him once more, “Alright, Cristiano. As I said earlier, I hope you have a good life.”

[judesbelligoal]

Fayza NEVER said that Kylian renewed for money.

I’m Spanish and I can tell you, that when Florentino went to El Chiringuito to give an interview, he emphasized that Kylian’s final decision was the result of months of political pressure. Kylian always wanted to come to Madrid, back in 2021 he said in an interview that he cried knowing he could not go to Real Madrid and that he was scared when Al Khelaifi said that he’d never leave the club, neither as a free agent neither as a PSG player.

By the way, there's a Spanish channel I follow who gives updates about Real Madrid’s players and stuff, and he already been saying that Kylian would not extend his contract since November of 2022. And he proved to have very valuable information about Kylian’s case.

Happens to be that Kylian’s dad had a lot of business dealings with PSG and he’s a pro-PSG supporter as well. He never wanted Kylian to leave France while Fayza wanted her son to leave for ages. Last year, when Kylian was banned from playing with the team, he was with “the discarded ones”. Fayza was ENRAGED with PSG’s management because they said: “Renew or leave”. And they didn’t let Kylian leave for the 3rd time in a row. Fayza didn’t want to deal with Al Khelaifi anymore and was Wilfried who played as a mediator between Kylian and Al Khelaifi.

This was proved almost a month ago when Kylian said that PSG management told him violently that he’d not play for the whole year. That Luis Enrique and Luis Campos saved him to play this year, at least a bit because we know they benched him so many times this last year.

Also, back in January. Kylian and Al Khelaifi talked about a “gentlemen’s agreement”, which was Kylian leaving a huge amount of money in the club. Because he was leaving for free and PSG would not receive a single euro from Real Madrid. Apparently, that was just oral and not signed, so now Kylian’s lawyer is preparing everything to sue PSG for 100 million euros that they didn’t pay Kylian.

And for the final, Mbappé’s family was threatened by Al Khelaifi (which btw happens to be investigated for kidnapping and torturing). Back in 2022, Ethan, Kylian’s little brother… Casually had a car accident for which they didn’t give much information about how it happened, there are rumors that PSG hired spies to stalk their players, that way they can’t get dirty rags to blackmail them in case they want to leave the club, and they also have the ultras. Don’t you remember how the ultras treated Neymar and Messi last year? Trying to invade their houses?

PSG is just messy and problematic, no player should even think about going there.

Yh i posted a little bit about it here. I remember him being benched quite often, psg/kylian fans thought it was luis enrique’s fault, come to find out the board was basically behind it and enrique was the whole reason he was even getting minutes.

And im not really familiar what happened between Messi and the ultras but that sounds scary. Can’t wait for Xavi simons to leave that thuggish club

[vampzxi]

𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭!𝘳𝘪𝘳𝘪 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

hi guys i finally finished the riri hcs...dont jump me idk why they took so long. if you have any other hcs PLEASE tell me i literally love riri so much it's probably unhealthy at this point. check out my highschool!shuri headcanons here! :)

taglist!: @vixentheplanet @abenomeiiii @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @pinkwright @ccharrrr @letitias-fav @shuriszn @generallysapphic @iotusroses @marsolgy @ihearttish (ask to be added or fill out this form. i'm so forgetful i'm sorry!)

academic

・❥・top of her class, dur 🤦🏽 (her and shuri are a year apart, riri being a junior)

・❥・homework side hustle (she’s a very expensive woman)

・❥・prefers math over any other subject, cannot stand english

・❥・despite not liking english, she has a very creative mind and all her english teachers love her

・❥・very quiet in class, minds her business for the most part

・❥・frequently spends all-nighters on her homework simply because she got too distracted (chronic procrastinator)

・❥・undiagnosed adhd

・❥・fidgeter. will bounce her leg, tap her nails on the desk, mess with her jewelry, cannot stay still in her seat

・❥・neat handwriting because her mom and step-dad taught her how to write nicely from a young age

・❥・terrible test anxiety

・❥・slick mouth often gets her into a lot of arguments with teachers.. (she made a teacher retire early once)

・❥・spends most of her time in her welding/metallurgy class, before and after school. if she's not there then she's at the garage

・❥・was forced into the debate club because her teacher told her to "channel her argumentative energy elsewhere" but she ended up loving it and wins most of her meets

social

・❥・despite keeping to herself, virtually everyone is cool with her

・❥・skips class with shuri sometimes

・❥・naturally flirty personality

・❥・gets dragged to parties by shuri but ends up having more fun than she does

・❥・picky eater

・❥・dancer. you cannot pull her off the dance floor

・❥・cannot speak xhosa to save her life...shuri makes fun of her a lot

・❥・gets angry easily, so she's been in her fair share of fights. she has yet to lose one

・❥・basketball player, her step dad taught her how to hoop

・❥・smokes 🍃 occasionally

・❥・favorite anime is soul eater

・❥・guilty pleasure: musicals. and shuri is the only one who knows this because she walked in on her singing "In The Heights". (she made shuri swear to secrecy)

・❥・loves skating

・❥・she switches up her style often, most times you'll just see her in a shirt and sweats. but she doesn't mind putting on a cute skirt or dress every now and then

romantic

・❥・if you like her, good luck. there's a line a mile long.

・❥・very cocky, she knows shes the shit.

・❥・drooler and snorer.

・❥・her love languages are words of affirmation and quality time, so she always has to let you know how good you look, or how smart you are, or how much she enjoys being around you. your date nights mostly consist of cuddling under each other and watching movies

・❥・drags you to the skating rink at least once a week

・❥・posts you all over her social medias. like constantly. when you ask her why she usually responds with something along the lines of, "i just want the world to see how fine you are."

・❥・wild sleeper, she usually ends up kicking you off the bed

・❥・she plays with your hair a lot

・❥・loves lego sets and puzzles and begs you to do them with her and shuri (you always say yes)

・❥・loves PDA, will literally kiss you anywhere, any time

・❥・rambles about you to shuri constantly

・❥・always bringing you something she made for you in her metallurgy class. you appreciate them but you're running out of room because of the amount she gives you

・❥・since she's in the garage most of the time, you end up having to drag her out

・❥・very oblivious with signals, if you try to drop hints she will not pick them up

・❥・scratcher.

・❥・debates everything, resulting in a few arguments. but she always ends up apologizing in the end. in certain ways 🤭

・❥・very possessive. she intentionally leaves hickeys on you. you don't mind though

thanks again for reading! yes i wrote this because im procrastinating on the shuri fic...mind your business. leave your headcanons guys :3

[blank-house]

Ok so we know that Jamie's kind of popular being the campus boyfriend but are the other guys so well-known? Maybe Elio? If Percy prefers playing video games than being outside... Yeah, wouldn't really think of him 😶

Elio and Percy have their own credibility on campus, it just depends on who you talk to.

Like, Elio is very popular within clubs and teams haha. While he’s only really dedicated to his dance team, he likes to pop in other clubs and see what they’re doing for the free shit or funsies. Events are kind of his thing so most clubs can count on him showing up (hence why the Student Government Board is pretty familiar with him since he always fills out their event surveys lmao).

Elio is also always down for a scrimmage/game if someone’s set something up on the green. The amount of times he’s made friends by simply jumping in the middle of an ongoing volleyball or soccer game has made him an honorary athlete of sorts lol. Like if anyone in his year needs an extra player, then they know who to reach out to. So in Elio’s case he’s very well liked and known in his year by people who are always up to something.

Lmao for Percy, while he likes playing games that doesn’t mean he coops himself at home. It’s just his favorite past time. So like you can still find him out and about on campus. But unlike Elio, who makes the effort to meet others and get along with them, Percy is… a chance encounter— one that usually ends up becoming a story to tell your friends.

As you can tell by the demo, he likes to leave an impression on people he happens to cross paths with. So good or bad, he tends to linger in people’s thoughts long after they’ve met, and if you ask around they usually have something to say about him based on what happened.

“Oh, are you talking about the guy with the rings and the really cute smile?”

“You mean the tall dumbass with the scooter?”

“Wait, you know the hottie who’s good with his hands??”

“Ah, that annoying brat with an infuriating smirk? Yeah I fucking remember him!”

There’s always something floating around since not everyone will like his shenanigans or him— but the main takeaway of those who had the chance to meet him is that: he’s someone you can’t help but keep an eye out for because he just leaves quite an impression on you.

- - - - -

TLDR, they both have something attached to their name that gives you a reason to remember them. So while it's not exactly popular, it’s safe to say that they’re well known in certain groups (and in Percy’s case: not a group, just purely random people lol).