#man utd

[helen-with-an-a]

The object that stood in the way of a World Cup

Hi. So this is going to be a 2 part (maybe 3 part) story that I've had floating in my head for a while now.

It's angsty - I do want it to end with a fluffy end, but it's getting a little too long to be 1 thing ahahaha. Anyways.

Ona Batlle x Reader

TW: Angst, no direct mention of bad mental health, but it's clear R ain't ok.

Word count: 3.3k

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

Flashbacks are written in Italics; for anyone not aware of the British school system GCSEs you take at 16 (you have 3 or 4 choice subjects and 5 or 6 compulsory subjects) and A-levels you take at 18 (you choose 3 or 4 subjects)

Description: R sees Ona again for the first time since their breakup

This is what you had been waiting for. All summer. All year. Hell, probably all your life. The World Cup Final. And the thought absolutely terrified you.

Your first thought after the final whistle wasn’t one of joy or happiness. You weren’t elated like Lessi or Tooney who barrelled into you and squeezed you so tight it hurt. You weren’t jumping for joy like Gee, Kiera and Lucy who manhandled you into the middle of their huddle. You weren’t screaming so loud your voice went hoarse like Hempo and Es. You weren’t standing in disbelief like Mearps and Millie.

Your first thought was of your ex- girlfriend, friend-with-benefits, situationship, Ona. Your first thought was of Ona. Spain had won against Sweden yesterday. And now you had won against Australia. The last time you had seen her was not a fun experience for you. Screaming. Tears. Spiteful words she didn’t mean. But that was the last time you spoke to her. It had been a long 8 months without her.

You weren’t quite sure what you were to each other when you were both at United. You had met on her first day. You were meant to be her buddy. The management had asked around during pre-season if anyone spoke any Spanish. You had done it at A-level, so you stuck your hand up. Barcelona was The Dream for you, so you had tailored your studies at school as much as you could to help you achieve it – taking Spanish at GCSE and A-level and continuing to watch Spanish shows and reading books to help you maintain it. You weren’t fluent but you knew enough that it would help Ona feel more comfortable. And you clearly had.

After winning the first derby of the season, the team had gone for drinks. Alcohol flowed, inhibitions were lost, and boundaries were blurred as Ona ended up in your bed. You had thought it would be a one-time thing. A drunken mistake that wasn’t much of a mistake to you. And it was … until it wasn’t. The next time it happened was at your birthday. And then her birthday. And then the end of the season. And then alcohol wasn’t a factor in taking you both to bed. She was suddenly all around you. Her jumpers were in your wardrobe. Her football boots were by the door. Her stuff was in the shower. Her snacks were in the cupboard. You had never spoken about what you were, but you drove her to training, she cooked you her mother's dishes, you snuggled into her side when watch your show, she slept in your bed every night.

And then it all came crashing down.

November 2022

You knew you needed to tell her as soon as possible. You wanted to tell her the news that had you pouncing on her the moment she stepped through the door. You were happy and giddy and so, so excited. You hadn’t thought that she wouldn’t be all of those things for you. You had made no secret that Barcelona was your dream. Everyone know that if Barcelona came knocking you would be gone without a doubt in your mind. You had received a phone call from your manager that afternoon.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you free to talk? There’s an offer for you.” Paul said down the phone. He sounded composed but happy, it intrigued you.

“Yeh, I’m free. What’s the offer? It’s mid-season though and I’m out of contract in the summer, why are they wanting to talk now?” You were questioning but not closed off. You knew joining a team mid-season would be hard but not impossible.

“Well… it’s Barca. They’ve but in an offer for you.” You were in complete shock. Barca wanted you. You were going to play for Barcelona. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. You screamed. It was the only thing you could think of. “I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Paul laughed. He knew Barca was the dream. He’d already written up the acceptance email.

“Oh my god! Of course it’s a bloody yes. I’m gonna play for Barcelona” You shouted.

“They want you to sign on the first day of the January signing window. It’ll be announced just after El Clásico. Is that ok with you? It gives you a couple of months to get everything sorted. And since United haven’t played in the Champions League, you aren’t cup tied or anything.”

You were floating on a cloud of happiness when the door clicked open. Ona was back from having a ‘Spanish Day’ with all the Spaniards living in Manchester. She had barely made it into the living room when you jumped her. Lips trailing everywhere you could reach. She laughed that gorgeous sound as you shoved her gently to the bedroom, her coat slipping off as you went.

You lay with your head against the pillows, hair fanned out to the side. You were sweaty and out of breath in the best way. Ona collapsed down next to you, her arms quickly wrapping around your waist.

“I had a phone call today.” You said nonchalantly. “From Paul,” you added as you tucked the duvet around the both of you. “There’s been an offer for me in the January window”. She looked at you expectantly. “Oni, Voy a jugar para el Barcelona” you breathed out. She stiffened in your arms.

“Qué quieres decir, amor?” She choked out after a few moments of silence, sitting up and moving away from you. You knew she wanted to go back to Spain, go back to Barca … but this was not the reaction you were expecting.

“Paul phoned. They’ve put in an offer for me for the January window. I’m signing on the 1st with it being announced after El Clásico.” You stated the facts. The simple outline of the facts that made you feel so, so happy.

“Are we not going to talk about this? You can’t leave in the middle of the season. United need you. We need you…. I need you, amor” She started off loud, angry, and upset, but by the end of the sentence it was barely a whisper. You had never seen Ona so… you could describe the look on her face. The way her body seemed slumped over in sadness.

“Hey… hey. No, don’t think like that. I’m here until the break. We’ve got a month or so. Everything will be fine, Oni. You are well aware that Barcelona is only a few hours on a plane. Everything will be fine!” She seemed to accept your comforting words.

But everything wasn’t fine.

There was a shift in the relationship arrangement whatever this was. Fewer jumpers were in your wardrobe. When she ran out of body wash, she didn’t replace it with a new bottle. Less of her snacks were added to your weekly shopping list. You still drove her to training but her music no longer blasted out of the speakers. She still cooked for you but there were never leftovers for the next day. She still slept in your bed, but she held onto your arm rather than curling up on top of you.

And then it was the Christmas break. Your last day at United. You weren’t sad to be leaving the club. But you were sad to be leaving the people. Of course, you knew you would see some of them during the international windows and whenever you came home but it wasn’t the same. Once again, the alcohol in your system led you to be on top of Ona. The first time you had done anything since you told her about your move. Something felt different this time. She was leaving to go back to Spain the following morning and you wouldn’t see her again before you left.

You woke up with a slight headache, but that wasn’t what pulled you from your sleep. Catalan came drifting across the flat. Ona was awake, and by the temperature of the bed, she had been for a while.

“Hey. Qué ocurre? Qué pasó?” She was pacing the living room, muttering away to herself. “Oni? Hey, estás bien?” She wasn’t paying any attention to you. “Ona”. Your hands rested on her shoulders, halting her scattered movements.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped. You jumped at the harshness in her tone.

“What’s wrong, Oni?” You asked again.

“I can’t do this.” She answered back. Her tone just as sharp. You knew what she was implying but you hoped you were wrong.

“This being…?” You trailed off.

“Us.” She stated simply. You waited a heartbeat, hoping she would realise you would do anything for her.

“It’s not like there was really an ‘us’ to begin with!” She spat at you. You felt your heart begin to splitter into a thousand pieces. Ona was looking for an argument. She was terrified you’d leave her behind at Manchester without a second look. Ona was hopelessly in love with you. She had been for some time. It wasn’t fast or scary. It was subtle and peaceful. One day she had woken up next to you and she knew it was you. It would always be you. But she didn’t know if she was yours. You were never a tactile person but with Ona, you always had some form of body contact. She thought it little of it. She was Spanish after all, touching your friends was fairly normal – she didn’t realise that you didn’t hug Lessi or Tooney unless they forced themselves at you. She didn’t consider how you were quick to shake off Mary or Maya’s arms. To you, and to everyone else but Ona, it was really obvious that she was yours and you were hers. You just hadn’t had the ‘what are we’ conversation yet. She was also jealous. Barca wanted you. Her home wanted you. Not her. Never mind that her agents had mentioned that Barca wanted her in the summer when she was out of contract. Barca offered money for you. Barca wanted you so badly that they offered a record-breaking fee in the middle of a season. She was scared, angry and jealous. How was she to know that you rarely argued back with someone? How was she to know that your easy-going nature was a result of growing up in a household where shouting was the norm? How was she to know that your mild-mannered temperament was due to your habit of placating your family to stop the noise? You had never told her that particular part of your childhood.

So, she hit you where she knew it would hurt the most, hoping to get a reaction out of you. “Eres sólo un polvo rápido. Fácil. Nada mas para mi. Something to pass the time. I don’t even know why Barca want you, honestly. No eres lo suficientemente buena.” She waited for a reply, but none came. She waited for you to lash out at her. Snap. Do something to make this … breakup? … easier. She wanted to be able to hate you in the same way she was trying to make you hate her. She did the second most painful thing she could think of. She spun on her heels and marched out the door.

You knew she was lying… you think. You hoped she was lying. You knew Ona could get mean when she was upset or scared. You had witnessed it after a particularly bad game – her harshness, her biting words. But she had said those words with such conviction, and you couldn’t think of a reason as to why she would be scared or upset. It had been a wonderful night. Laughter, soft touches exactly where you needed them, and love. You could feel the love between the two of you. Every lingering touch, every passionate kiss, ever whispered word. Everything was done with love, for the pure enjoyment of the other. Everything was perfect.

You're just a quick fuck. Easy. Nothing more to me. Was that all you were to her? Did the late nights mean nothing to her? Did the secrets you whispered into her hair mean anything? Were all the promises she made you lies? Was everything she ever said to you just so she could get her regular fix? Did she really think you weren’t good enough for Barcelona? She knew her opinion of you and your football meant a lot to you. Was every reassurance that you were good enough for the starting XI mean nothing? Was every calming word when you were waiting for Sarina’s call false? Did she genuinely think that you weren’t good enough?

You were in a daze all throughout Christmas. Seeing you family was fun, but you couldn’t shake the clouds in your mind. When you met with the some of the Lionesses in Manchester in between Christmas and New Year, everyone could tell something was wrong. You were normally on the quieter side, preferring to listen rather than speak. But you didn’t really do either. You were just there; not contributing to conversations or laughing along like you usually would. Something was wrong but no one knew what. And then you were on a plane, staring out the window as you watched Spain get closer and closer. You had never been to Spain outside of camps and tournaments. Ona had promised to take you there, to show you Barcelona, to show you her home. But you had to make it your home without her by your side.

And now you were about to play Ona in a World Cup Final.

Lucy knew something was eating at you in the days leading up to the final. She had phoned Leah to come to the hotel to cheer the whole team up and boost morale. It had worked for the other girls but not you. Kiera phoned Alexia as well. But the comforting words had washed straight over you. Everyone thought that it was because you were facing the Barca girls. No one in Barcelona knew of your history with Ona beyond that of teammates at United. If she was ever in town for a quick break, you always, miraculously, had other plans you couldn’t get out of. They didn’t know you lied and hid yourself away in your flat – moving your car a few streets along and leaving your phone off so the location couldn’t be tracked. You’d even gone so far as to phone up Hayley Raso in Madrid to ask if you could come visit her when you found out Ona would be at a team bonding event due to her free schedule coinciding with game-less weekend for Barca. Hayley was a little confused, but you were close enough friends from your time at Manchester that she didn’t question it.

Ona’s words had stayed with you. Every time you failed gave the ball away, passed a too-wide cross, or missed a shot on goal, her words echoed in your mind. You’re not good enough. The venom lacing her tone permeated your brain. You pushed yourself hard then ever before. You went for runs before training to improve your stamina, stayed late to practice free kicks and penalties. You lifted heavier weights and broke your old PBs in the gym. You were eating correctly and always seemed cheery enough, so no one really questioned it. Slowly the muscles started to grow. You were always on the stockier side, the muscles you had slowly built up helping you with your defence. But now you were really built. Your muscles were obvious, even under looser fitting clothes. Not that you really wore loose clothes anymore. At first, it was because everyone on the team, everyone in Barcelona, looked good. Their styles were just rubbing off on you, you had justified to yourself. But eventually, the tops became tighter and shorter. The trousers became low rise, and the hemlines became higher. The Barca Glow Up (and Lotte had coined it) was definitely real. You told yourself it was for you. The clothes you were wearing, the muscles you liked to show off, was because you were proud of them. Which you were. But you couldn’t lie to yourself for long. The Barca media frequently posted game day fits. You knew Ona followed Barca. You knew you would appear on her timeline. Yes, you were a little more tired than you used to be. But that was fine. You didn’t tell anyone the words that rattled around in your head when you were alone. You were fine. Everything was fine. You were playing the best football of your life at Barca. You were a key part of their defence, making your way into the Starting XI quickly and constantly proving your worth in every game.

You were fine. Ok, you hadn’t had sex, or even looked at another girl, since Ona arriving in Spain. Ok, you had to have some form of noise constantly in the background because every time there was silence your thoughts drifted back to Manchester. Ok, you couldn’t be around Ingrid and Mapi or anyone else in a relationship for too long otherwise you might start crying. Ok, you were still very much broken hearted. But you were fine. You weren’t necessarily good, but you were fine

The morning of the final, you were quiet. But everyone was, even Tooney. The buzz of anticipation. The air of expectation. Everyone was doing their own pre-match routine. You had followed yours to the letter. A gentle walk alone this morning followed by breakfast. A full bottle of water on the coach to the stadium. Pitch inspection with Less and Tooney. Warm up with Lucy and Millie. Hair slicked into a bun. A spray of perfume and into the tunnel to walk out.

She was standing just a head of you. Perfect. Breath-taking. Even with her game face on and her concentration as Irene spoke to her, you could see the usual kindness in her features. Those soft warm eyes that you had been lost in far too often. The freckles that littered her skin that you had traced and played dot-to-dot with as you laughed sleepless nights away. The braid that you used to tug on to get her attention before a match that always made her smile and break her focus. You knew you were still desperately in love with her. You shook your head. You couldn’t let her get to you. Not now. Your walls went back up as you pushed all thoughts from her mind. She wasn’t your Oni – even though you knew in your heart she would always be that to you –, she was the object that stood in your way of a World Cup. As Jess and Alex pulled your attention away from the Spanish players, you missed her looking at you.

She knew you had more muscle than before but seeing you in the flesh was something else. Your eyes that have the ability to truly look at a person, looked a little more tired than she was used to. The genuine smiled that was a defining feature for you was replaced with a hard line and a smirk every now and again. She thinks you have had a haircut since being in Barca – your bun wasn’t as big as it used to be in Manchester. She wanted nothing more than to trace her fingers gently over the new scar just above your eyebrow. She knew exactly how you got it. She watched every game of yours, live if she could – on repeat if she couldn’t. You had collided with a player during Chelsea Champions League match. She had been so terrified she almost picked up the phone to call you several times. She did play a little more brutally the next time she faced Chelsea. She had been carded after she left a particularly nasty tackle on the girl that had hurt you. She didn’t know that you also watched all of her games. She didn’t know that you also wanted to phone her after that match but was so scared of her rejection. But right now, you weren’t her Amor – even though you would always be that to her –, you were the object that stood in her way of a World Cup.

Part 2 will probably be out fairly quickly as a lot of it is already written but yeh

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso soccer #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona #manchester united #man utd #man utd women

[moonystoes]

The way people are reacting to what happened to LJ and Millie Turner is exactly what I was expecting. People claim football is inclusive, and everyone gets the chance to feel respected and be able to play safely. But you only defend and protect the people that fit into your standards. They will only defend the people they like or share traits with. White supremacists aren't even trying to cover up their disgusting ideologies.

Turner posted a picture of James 'headlocking' her in the game. It didn't happen, LJ wanted the ball so she came from behind, Millie bent down which made it look like LJ was headlocking her. Not only did she post that knowing the amount of racial abuse and criticism LJ gets for simply breathing, she also commented and liked comments about it being a 'proper headlock'... no it wasn't. And she knows that.

Yet I hadn't seen many speaking about this here, do you guys suddenly not care about players being mistreated and racially abused because they're not white? What happened to all those fans harassing Korbin for excluding and disrespecting the queer community? Is football truly inclusive and for everyone like how you guys claimed it to be? Or is it suddenly not harmful or serious because it doesn't fit into YOUR beliefs?

Claiming LJ is aggressive with actual proof of fouls she committed is understandable, but posting pictures with no context and making it seem like she was trying to harm you is DISGUSTING. Those random Arsenal fans that love McCabe so much always bring the fact 'ohh but Katie never injured a player'... okay? And did LJ do that? Because last time I checked, when she does commit a foul, the player is hurt for a few minutes but continues playing like normal with no minor or serious injuries. You guys can't even find the right excuses to defend your racist thoughts lol. And if you're a McCabe fan, don't bother coming here and explaining why you hate LJ. I'm not listening to your ass. I truly respect McCabe, but I don't like her fans that HATE LJ (if you're a McCabe fan and you don't actively harass LJ... then this isn't for you).

Players from her OWN English squad liking and commenting is absolutely disgusting too. They can see the racial abuse their own teammate is experiencing but they're white ass don't care because again... what was I expecting from them? Of course they wouldn't. And Now that Turner is getting a lot of blacklash, she didn't delete the post. She kept that photo but turned off the comments.

I will always defend LJ, and I will always stand with football being for everyone. But some of you guys are hypocrites.

#barclays wsl #wsl #women's super league #chelsea fc #chelsea women #chelsea women fc #woso #woso community #manchester united #millie turner #lj #lauren james #man utd #man united #Manchester united women

[lotsofcelebs]

Leah Williamson & Mary Earps

#leah williamson #mary earps #arsenal wfc #arsenal #man utd #celebrity #hot celebrity #hot celebs #celeb #celebs #lotsofcelebs #daily celebs #sexy celebrities

[pacifierbby]

~ POV

walking around London

a/n~ sorry lovely I'm off work now for 9 days so I'll be updating my stories abit more obviously the nanny still on going don't worry. I've just get ideas and jot them down before they go

tag list ~ here

warnings ~ masons being cute and fluffy kissing and hugging

pairing ~ mason x you

you and Mase will be constantly holding hands walking around London

Mason will be constantly dragging you into every shoe shop possible making you buy the same shoes so you can be twinning obviously it will be ether high top converse or low in any colour

you be showing mason every makeup and facial skin cares. which mason ask if he can do some home with you. you also show mason different face masks.

Mason would want to dry different food every time you guys go out so when you walk around London mason notices a new Italian restaurant opened he drags you inside which you both try the pizzas and the starters.

side glances when masons looking away.

quick kisses when ever you guys are alone because PDA wasn't your thing and masons knows this

going to every sight seeing view

when it starts getting dark you go on the London eye. and seeing London in the dark on the top will always be your favorite

saying i love yous

#manchester united #imagines #football imagine #football imagines #football #imagine #football fanfic #football x you #footballer imagine #football x oc #football x y/n #football x reader #mason mount blurb #mason mount #mason mount imagines #mason mount x reader #man utd #mason mount fluff #mason mount imagine #mason mount x y/n #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x you #mason mount x oc #mason mount x reader fanfic #mason mount fics #mason mount concepts #mason mount one shots #mason mount drabble #mason mount angst

[fitfootballers]

Mason Mount 🔥

#mason mount #manchester united #mufc #england national football team #fit footballers #premier league #football #hot football players #footballers #photoshoot #footballer #epl #england nt #england national team #man united #man utd

[kierantierney3]

Mason Mount/ New man

Summary: You and Mason broke up over a year ago and you have been giving hints that you have a man of the scene.

Masterlist

Face claim: Yewande Biala

——————-

yourusername

liked by benchilwell, sanchooo10 and 193,083 others

yourusername Paris 🇫🇷🥖🧀🥐

view all comments

sanchoo10 No

user I hope you tried the famous hot chocolate

user I love her

yourusername story

masonmount

liked by kepaarrizabalaga, ellatoone and 341,028 others

masonmount 🇫🇷

view all comments

benchilwell Enjoy it!

username Y/n and Mason in Paris???

username Dinner date with who? Cause it wasn’t me.

yourusername

liked by benchilwell, masonmount and 153,037 others

yourusername 24 hour layover in Rome.

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username Stunning girl

username So maybe she is not with Mason :(

username I hope she doesn’t have a new bf her and Mason were soulmates.

benchilwell Enjoy it!!!!

masonmount story

yourusername

liked by masonmount, bukayosaka87 and 185,945 others

yourusername Madrid you own my heart ❤️

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username I never knew she was spanish?

⤷username i believe her mum is spanish

masonmount Nice

⤷username Nice????? What does that mean????

masonmount

liked by yourusername, madders and 928,027 others

masonmount 👱🏼‍♂️👱🏼‍♂️

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yourusername Did you steal my photo? and upload it as your own? wow

⤷masonmount The last photo? No i found it on pinterest 🫣

username BLOND MASON EVERYONE!!! STAY CALM

username This all but confirms y/n and Mason are dating again. Both in the same places, Paris, Rome and Madrid and Mason using y/n photos.

yourusername and masonmount

liked by declanrice, danidyer and 991,839 others

yourusername Summer break with my favourite person 💞💞

tagged masonmount

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declanrice Yess guysss!!!! Now you both just need to move back to London

username I knew it!!!!!

username I always knew they were soulmates. ❤️‍🔥

#football #football imagine #football imagines #footballers #footballer #premier league #football x reader #manchester united #man utd #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagines #mason mount #mason mount imagine #football fanfic #insta au #instagram au #instagram

[zingaplanet]

"They're like, what's the word, -an old married couple- or something"

- (Roy Keane, probably)

#roy getting fed up with them shenanigans is a mood #them two always sitting together on trains tho 🥺 #carraville #neville #carragher #overlap on tour #jamie carragher #gary neville #football rof #man utd #liverpool fc

[missdollytheog]

He's so glorious

#mason mount #so hot 🔥🔥🔥 #hot as fuck #hot footballers #hotmen #hot male #man utd #man united #manchester united

[purple-afternoon]

#manchester derby #man utd #man city

[totaly-obsessed]

Maya Le Tissier Appreciation

woso appreciation masterlist | with @alotofpockets

#woso #woso imagine #woso appreciation #woso community #manchester united women #manchester united #man utd #man united #man united wfc x reader #maya le tissier x reader #maya le tissier

[museszm]

Thank you Cloé Lacasse for bringing back proper celebrations to this club

#woso #football #women’s football #woso community #arsenal wfc #awfc #arsenal #Arsenal vs man United #man united wfc #manchester united women #man utd #arsenal women #cloe lacasse #wsl 23/24 #barclays wsl #fa wsl #wsl #womens super league

[helen-with-an-a]

The Object that stood in the way of a World Cup pt. 3

Hi. So here is part 3 (again, this will have another part because I am determined to get it happy at the end; it's just taking me a while to get there ahahah). Big thanks to @lyak12 for helping me work out my issues with the fic <3

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

Ona Batlle x Reader

Flashbacks are in italics

TW: Injury, R ain't ok mentally, suggestiveness

Description: R comes home from Australia to start her recovery

Word Count: 3.6k

You had required three surgeries in total to fix everything – an emergency one to save your leg, one to place the screws and realign everything and one to reattach the ligaments in your knee. The damage the tackle had done was extensive; your shin was splintered into 3, some coming through the skin, and the force of the collision ruptured your ACL and meniscus ligament, too. No one dared show you the video, and you weren’t bothered to look it up. Even though you couldn’t remember what happened, you’d have the scars for life. You had asked what the timeline was for when you could get back on the pitch. One doctor had said it was an if not a when. You didn’t like that doctor. It would be a when – football was your lifeline, your escape when times were tough. You didn’t know how you would cope with it. Your physios at Barca had said that when … if … you were back on the pitch, your playing style would have to change. They had told you in broken English that you probably would never play the same and would have to rely on speed and technical ability rather than strength in matches. But that was ok; as long as you were on the pitch, you didn’t care how you had to play, just so long as you could.

You flew back to Barcelona a month after the World Cup. You wanted to be back earlier, but you hadn’t been cleared to fly and definitely hadn’t been cleared to fly halfway across the world. The medical staff in Australia were lovely – sneaking you extra desserts, cheering every milestone, no matter how small, braiding your hair, and helping apply your moisturiser when you were too tired to do it yourself. Your family had only seen you that first day. You didn’t mind – you didn’t particularly like when they were around anyway. It was always too loud with them. The bad kind of loud. The Lionesses were the good kind of loud. They had piled into your room, staying as long as possible. Georgia had left you with her Tamagotchi, making you promise her you’d try to keep it alive. Being suitably distracted by the mountain of sugary sweets piled on your bed by Hempo, much to the horror of Leah and Sarina, you missed the way Lucy eyed you wearily.

You considered Lucy a big sister, especially since moving to Barcelona. She had been concerned about you since you arrived. The happy, bubbly young woman she had come to care for deeply had retreated back into the quiet shell you had been when you first joined the senior squad. At first, she thought you were just nervous – she knew how scary it could be to be in a new city without many friends. But after a while, she knew it was something more sinister. She barely saw you outside of football; you were always making excuses to avoid team bonding or insisting you needed to stay late to work on things. Things you already excelled at. She grasped just how badly something was wrong with the first international camp of the new year. She thought you would return back to your old ways, finally being around your old friends and not having to navigate another language. But that wasn’t the case; if anything, you grew even quieter – especially around Alessia and Ella. That concerned her the most – you were closer than family to those two. They could always be relied on to drag a smile out of you. So, she kept an eye on you. Quietly observing your behaviour.

Whilst you hated that you weren’t back in Barcelona as quickly as you wanted to be, you were glad you didn’t have to see Ona again so quickly. That night was the last time you had seen her. You hadn’t said anything as she took a seat across from you. She hadn’t said anything as you started to drift into an uncomfortable slumber. Only when she was sure you were in a deep sleep did she break her silence.

“Mai podré dir-te com ho sento,” she whispered. “Sempre t'estimaré. Espero que algun dia em permetis estimar-te de la manera que et mereixes.”

“Oni, I can’t speak Catalan, remember? You’re going to have to repeat that in English.” You laughed as she chattered away. It was an off-day and oddly warm in Manchester. You lay with your head in her lap, top tucked up into your bra, exposing as much skin as possible in an effort to soak up the summer sun.

“Sorry, amor. I’m just happy it’s finally warm here. It reminds me of home a little bit.” She carded her fingers through your hair as you snuggled your face into her stomach.

“Tell me about it?” You asked gently. You loved hearing the stories of her home, her childhood, her life back in Spain.

“There’s this little cafetería back home. It sells the best Crema Catalana ever. I don’t know what they do, but, mmmm ... es tan delicioso. It’s even better than my Mamí’s. It’s so pretty too. It’s got this really cool tiled pattern flooring and vines on the wall at the front. During the summer, they open all the doors and play music and …” You could listen to Ona talk all day; the excitement when she mentions her home is unparalleled. You could feel yourself drifting into sleep – the warm weather, her gentle fingers scratching at your scalp, her intoxicating smell that wrapped around you like a soft hug.

“Mmmm,” you hummed happily. "It sounds fantastic. I wish I could visit,” you commented.

“You shall. I’ll take you. You’ll come to see my home, we’ll do all the touristy things in Barcelona, and then I’ll show you all the local spots in Vilassar de Mar, prometo,” She vowed.

“Good. I …” you cut yourself off with a yawn, “I don’t want to see Barcelona without you.” Your eyes fluttered gently.

“You won’t. I won’t let you. You’re stuck with me for life, amor.” You smiled softly at her words. You liked the sound of being with Ona for life. “Ve a dormir, amor. I’ll be here when you wake up.” You nodded and allowed yourself to slip into a gentle dream.

Arriving home, it was easier to avoid Ona than you thought. You were still on strict instructions to rest. Alexia had tried to force you to stay with her. When that failed, Lucy had tried. You liked your space. You liked your private time. You felt like you could never fully relax around people … except for around Ona - that voice in your head reminded you. No! You couldn’t allow that voice to win. You had a recovery to think of now. You had compromised a little bit, though. You lived in the same building as Ingrid and Mapi, so you gave them permission to get a spare key cut. This allowed you to have people constantly checking on you without feeling like a burden on them. Alexia wanted a key for herself, but she lived on the other side of town, and you didn’t like dragging her so far from her usual daily routine.

To be honest, you were unsure if you wanted to see Ona. Alessia had quietly told you that you wouldn’t calm down on the pitch until Ona held you. In the extra month you were in Australia, you had come to terms with the fact you were still in love with her. You had tried to deny it when you initially came to Spain. But now it was just a fact you had to live with. That night in the hospital was so incredibly awkward … strange … nice. She had stood in a training top you were fairly sure was yours once upon a time, head hung low as she picked at her nails. You wanted to bat her hands away, to tell her to stop, but she had sat too far and out of your reach.

“I’m telling you, Y/N, something’s wrong with Ona”, Hayley whispered to you in the bathroom. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but she won’t stop picking at her nails; she’s really quiet. Something’s not right. I think something may have happened during the break.” You sighed deeply. You also think something may have occurred whilst she was in Spain. You had picked her up from Manchester Airport, and you could tell instantly something wasn’t right. 3 of her fingers were wrapped in plasters, and the others looked just as sore. When you extended your arms out to hug her, she looked a little apprehensive but stepped into your embrace anyway. No matter how much you wanted to keep her in your arms, you stepped away after a few short seconds. You had never seen her so tired, so different, so … you weren’t quite sure what had happened. You kissed her forehead gently as you ushered her to the car.

It didn’t take long for you to find Ona – she was sitting in your cubby after all. Despite your concern, your heart couldn’t help but flutter as you recognised your number on the hoodie she was wearing.

“Me gustas en mi ropa,” You said as you crouched in front of her, hands resting gently on her knee. She didn’t smirk like she usually would. She didn’t react when you started tracing gentle shapes on her bare legs. She just kept picking at her nails. “Oni… lo que le pasó?” You asked in the gentlest tone imaginable. She just shook her head, wiping a stray tear away. “No … hey, hey, hey, no. Oni. Mi niña hermosa. Don’t cry.” You surged forward. “Please don’t cry.” You didn’t know how to comfort her. You had seen her angry, you had seen her scared, you had seen her frustrated. But you had never seen her cry before.

You had eventually coaxed her into going home. You had waited until everyone had left—Hayley hurrying people along to let you deal with the situation. The force with which she gripped your hand left a sour taste in your mouth. You had kept your hand in hers the whole journey home and into your flat. You led her to the sofa as you lay down, pulling her on top of you.

“Now …” You started, “I’m not going to make you talk to me. But I can tell something happened when you were in Spain. I want you to tell me, but I’m not going to force you. Whatever you want to share that’s entirely up to you. But please, Oni … I’m not going to judge you, or laugh at you, or hurt you for telling me anything. Un problema compartido es un problema dividido, right?” You whispered as your fingers slipped under her jumper.

It took a while, but eventually, she told you. You held her as she cried over the conditions in the Spanish camp. You held her as she recounted the story of her being forced from her bed at 5 in the morning for a run and not being allowed to stop until she threw up or passed out. You held her as she ranted about how mean the coaching staff were to Pina, and when she had stepped in to intervene, she had it twice as bad. You held her as she eventually slipped into a fitful reprieve from the nightmare she had just returned from.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake Ona’s voice from your head telling you, you weren’t could enough for Barca. If she thought that before your injury, what would she think about you now? You were looking at a year off the pitch, at least, let alone having to train in a new style and learn a new way of playing that could have you set back even further. It echoed in your mind before behind, when you looked at yourself in the mirror, when you were with the team as they tried to help you feel better.

Most days looked similar for you in the first month you returned. You were still in a cast and brace, so you couldn’t do much. The doctors - and Alexia - had told you how important it was to establish and stick to a routine. So, you did. You woke up at 8.30 every morning. There was training – you obviously couldn’t go, but since all your friends had that schedule to stick to, so did you. You would go into the bathroom and have a really awkward shower; more often than not, you would flood the bathroom, then get ready for the day. Lucy told you that you needed to change out of your pyjamas every day, so you slipped on loose shorts and a shirt – your ‘day pyjamas’ you had christened. You had breakfast with Ingrid and Mapi before they left for training, and then you sat on the couch. All day. With your mind slowly descending into chaos over everything that had happened. And then you would hear the conversations from outside that told you some of the girls were coming round to see you, and you plastered a smile on your face as you asked them about their day, and they would ask you about yours. On non-training days, you granted yourself a lie-in. Keira and Lucy would come by with pastries from the bakery down the round and fresh fruit for you to snack on. You would sometimes have a Lioness Facetime if everyone’s schedules allowed.

You had yet to go to a match or the training facility, watch a game on TV, or even just play Fifa. But that would come with time; you would have to go eventually because that was where the physios and trainers were. People thought you were reluctant to go because of what had happened. Which you were … a little bit. The main reason that made you nervous about going was Ona. A picture of her on your timeline had sent you into a spiral for a good few hours. You were scared of what seeing her in person would do.

You had seen the picture of her in the Champions League promotion. And she looked so good. You had stared for far too long at her beautiful smile that still took your breath away, her chiselled jawline that you used to pepper kisses across when you cuddled up against her, her veiny arms that had made you feel so safe and loved, her messy bun that you had jokingly begged her to teach you how to do, her freckled cheeks that would sport a soft pink hue every time you complimented her, the dimples you would poke at when she was trying to be angry at you but failing miserably.

“Great game today girls, you played fantastically. And well done to Ona.” You were standing next to her in the post-match huddle, she shyly groaned as her achievements were recognised in front of everyone.

“Mi Oni’s got her name on the score sheet,” You sang out as you walked back down the tunnel, arms wrapping around her waist. “We need to celebrate.” A round of cheers from everyone echoed the sentiment. Just as you were about to separate to go shower, you felt Ona squeeze you gently. “Hm?” You asked, scanning her features for discomfort.

“Could we do something … just us tonight?” As much as she loved the girls, she wanted a night with you. Alone. She looked so adorable as she quietly mumbled her desires to you.

“Absolutely we can,” your smile reassured her. You pressed your hands against her cheeks quickly before turning to head to the showers.

You didn’t even bother with an excuse when you messaged Lessi and Tooney.

Y/N: Sorry not coming tonight - other plans x

Tooney: Rude

Tooney: Do these other plans involve a Spanish defender???

Y/N: Maybe x

Y/N: She wanted to do something just us

Lessi: I want details! x

Y/N: Nothing’s going to happen

Y/N: U know we r just friends

Tooney: And I’m just friends with Joe :p

Y/N: Its just a MOVIE NIGHT x

Lessi: If u say so x

Tooney: stay safe x

Y/N: ffs and I do say so.

Y/N: text me when ur both home pls x

Lessi: Will do x

Your other plans involved very little deviation from your regular nights. She had cooked for you like always, serving up a delicious paella that had you begging her for cooking lessons. Over dinner, you relived her goal from your perspective and forced her to tell you what she was thinking when she sent it into the back of the net.

“Now that you’ve started scoring, you won’t stop. I’m telling you.” She had laughed at your promise. “I’m being serious here. We need to come up with a celebration for you.” She just hummed and kissed the top of your head as she gathered the plates and took them to the sink.

Later, you were lying on the sofa watching a Spanish movie she insisted on, telling you how it was a part of her childhood and she needed to share it with you. You weren’t paying any attention. You were far too distracted by her fingers running up your spine. It was driving you mad in the best way possible. Your ear was pressed against her chest, her heartbeat comforting and peaceful as you burrowed yourself deeper into her.

“Estás bien?” Ona asked, your movements catching her attention.

“Yeah.” You responded. “I’m really proud of you, you know that, right?” You shifted again, this time drawing yourself up to cage her in with your arms. The blush reappeared on her cheeks as you stared intently at her. God, she was so beautiful. “And I’m really happy you came to Manchester. You make everything better.” You told her honestly. She was getting overwhelmed. You could see that as she avoided your gaze. You gently poked the place where a dimple appeared when she smiled. “Oni …” you waited until she looked back at you. “Puedo besarte?” You said as you stared at her lips.

“Sí.” This wasn’t your first kiss, drunk or sober. But this time felt different. You couldn’t explain it. Her soft lips parted as you licked the seam of her mouth.

You continued to make out lazily on the sofa before Ona broke away for some much-needed air. You didn’t care, though. Your lips just moved to her neck – you were careful not to leave any marks, no matter how much you wanted to decorate the pale skin with dark splotches that claimed her as yours. She whimpered and whined underneath you until she was begging for more.

“Por favour. Do something. Anything. Necesito más,” she implored, hands tangling in your hair as you pulled away.

“Relajarse. Let me take care of you.” You sighed into her skin.

You're just a quick fuck. Easy. Nothing more to me. Her wicked words bounced around in your head. God, she had really ruined you. That was the first night you allowed yourself to truly feel everything, every emotion you had suppressed and bottled up for the last 9 months. It was painful. Raw. Terrifying.

At first, you were angry — so, so angry. Pure, unadulterated rage bubbled up and over the top of your carefully constructed walls. You threw a vase. It shattered into pieces like your heart had done all those months ago. It was satisfying, but you wanted more. You needed more. You ripped apart a cushion someone gave you as a housewarming present. You screamed and raged and shouted your emotions.

Then you cried. It started as a few lone drops that quickly became a torrent of unstoppable, hot tears. The sobbing hurt. It was painful and gut-wrenching. You had never cried like this before, and that scared you. These were the tears of someone heartbroken, and desperate. You cried so hard you thought you were about to throw up.

When you came to your senses, you were standing in the middle of the living room – how you got there was beyond you – feathers lightly floating around you, the wall had a slight dent, and someone was knocking frantically on your door. You didn’t move. If it was Ingrid or Mapi, they had a key. If it was Lucy or Alexia, they knew where to find the spare set. If it was anyone else, you didn’t want to see them.

Strong yet gentle arms pulled you to a warm body. The scent that engulfed you was soft and sweet. Alexia.

“Está bien, cariño. Let’s get you to bed, sí?” She was too gentle. Alexia didn’t do this kind of comfort. She offered practical solutions, honesty, and tough love.

“I… I’m scared,” You admitted as she helped you twist into bed.

“I know recovery can be scary, pequeña, but you will do it. It will be hard. But you can do it. Te lo prometo, puedes hacerlo. Everyone is going to help you. You can lean on us. We're here for you, bebita.” She was misunderstanding what you were referencing. You weren’t scared of recovery. You were physically healing well. A physio had been sent to your house from Barcelona to assess you at home to see whether you could start your rehabilitation at the club. She had asked you questions, and you had given the right answers. Your scars were healing well, and you had the expected range of motion for your injuries. Physically, you were right on track.

You were scared of your own mind. In the month you had been home alone, you had thought hard about anything. Ona had really broken you, yet you couldn’t let her go. What did that say about you? You had always thought you were stronger than that. You used to never understand what it was like when people would go back to an ex-partner who had broken their heart. Ona was never even officially yours, and she had managed to do so much damage.

This is becoming a lot more intense than I had planned ahahah. Hopefully, the next part will be out soon.

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso soccer #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona #manchester united #man utd #man utd women #alexia putellas #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso fanfics

[swayziiwriter]

Attentive | Marcus Rashford

summary: Marcus is observant in all the ways it counts, watching and paying attention to how your body reacts each time he’s around.

WARNING: 18+, sexual content

NOTE: Rashford wears the #10 cause he knows he’s a 10/10

Marcus is extremely vigilant. Watching how your short satin dress moved up against your hips with each passing breath. He’d bundled it up to your waist, before ripping it off your body completely leaving you bare. Presently he has you confined under him, one of your hands on his firm chest.

"This is gonna get you off huh?" He returns to the initial topic of the conversation. You'd offered a casual comment about how large his hands are, the manner by which decent they feel, how dextrous his fingers look. "Let me see how much you like these hands” referring to his inked hands that were begging to be inside of you. “How can I resist?” You barked back, mocking his attempts at dominating.

"Don't argue with me." He grins, inclines nearer and allows your lips to meet. You try to get closer to him while tangled in his hair and grateful for it. You buck your hips upward to try to catch the friction you can't find as the kiss gets more intense and you become antsy and desperate for something else. As you separate from him, you whine. “Marcus please.”

He is firm when he says, "Tell me what you want." You don't require words. As soon as his thumb touches your biting lip, you drop it open, allowing him to press it onto your tongue. You suck on it, eyes polished and asking, until his thumb's wet and his vision is murky. “Fuck.” He runs it over your lips once more, kissing you harder. You say, just before you start begging, "Touch me Marcus. Please." He hasn't even pulled your underwear off and as of now your mind is half gone, lessening you to brief, faltering sentences. 

"You realize I love these," he remarks, his fingers light and sensitive around the trim. " You're getting them so wet, so dirty.” His hand comes down and slaps your clit through the fabric, sending you into a fit of pain and pleasure. When he simultaneously inserts two fingers into your already sensitive pant legs, you let out a gasp because you had been waiting so long.

Marcus simply murmurs, "You’re gonna stay still for me” in your ear without having to physically restrain you. “Such a good girl for me” Marcus murmurs. You're gesturing along, submissive, and loyal like a puppy. You're tight, muscles straining when he twists his fingers and keeps spilling rottenness from his mouth into your ear. You try not to move too much as you drop your head back and let out a throaty whine. trying my best to be good to him. “You like that?” He teases, knowing you do. "Yes," you mumble. "Feels so good.”

He laughs as hard as you are struggling to breathe. “You like being used like this? You know what you wanted when you started playing with me. You realized you'd be screwed by me, because you always get what you want, you are too spoiled. Maybe I should make you wait until you’ve stopped being a slut?” He asks. You complain, "You are being mean." Overstimulation tears spring to your eyes and gently roll down your cheeks as he vigorously curls his fingers. With a free hand, he wipes them away. Around his fingers, you can hear yourself getting wetter and sloppy. He grins. "You’re soaked. Dripping all over my fingers.”

He hauls his fingers out to slap your clit, pushing them back in not so much as a moment later, not permitting a break. You whine, squirming, completely ignoring his standard automatically. Your clit is swollen and sensitive as you are so close to them, clenching hard around them. He looks down at you ravenously, his eyes hazier than any time in recent memory watching you whimper and move around his fingers. And afterward his fingers twist perfectly and your whines tighten into nothing as you cum all around his hand, body spasming.

He is praising you as you go, but the haze of your orgasm obscures his praise; you pull him close, let him settle his head in the base of your neck. You let out a breathe moving your body to straddle him, switching positions. He lies under you, smiling up at your equally happy face. “Your cock isn’t pretty bad either” you teased.

#Spotify #football #soccer #world cup #football imagine #imagine #football smut #mature reading #smut stories #footballer #marcus rashford #marcus rashford x you #marcus rashford x reader #marcus rashford imagine #marcus rashford smut #manchester united #man utd #manchester city #england football #england #smut scenarios #football scenarios #hot footballers #marcus x reader #european football #manchester utd #man united #football boys #premier league #oneshot

[spider-alvarez]

He's so precious 💖

#mason mount #chelsea fc #manchester united #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x oc #mason mount smut #mason mount angst #mason mount imagine #mason mount fluff #mason mount imagines #mason mount fanfic #man utd #football

[pacifierbby]

THE NANNY ~ part 1

- And I'm so impatient when you're not mine I just want to catch up on all the lost times And I'll say I'm sorry if I sound sordid 'Cause all I really ever want is you.

Summary ~ Mason was an amazing dad to his little girl, april. Whenever Mason went, his little girl came with even including to his game when his mum had her. However, when an opportunity pulled up for him to leave Chelsea and move to Manchester, he couldn't say no. However, 4 hours away from London, Mason had to get a nanny for his little girl.

A/N~ hello so this is my first series please give me feedback it will really help! Hope you all enjoy your day lovely's

Warning~ mother abandonment,Mason fluff,Mason dad fic

Pairing ~ masons mount x reader

Taglist ~ @writergiih

Locations ~ Manchester, Masons house

Mason did everything for his little girl he always made sure that she was first before himself. April's mother left when she was 1 month old. Apparently, she couldn't cope with being a mother at the age of 23 she just wanted to go to different clubs and party so when mason woken up on that morning to a note that been left on the fridge and his daughter in the cot he knew from that day that he would fight for his little princess.

Leaving his family behind when Mason moved from London to Manchester was the hardest thing he could ever do. his family was the only people he trusted to look after April it's not like they were around the corner anymore. They were 4 hours away.

His mum and dad couldn't always come up to Manchester when it was game time. And that's why Mason is sitting on his sofa the TV playing quietly in the background his daughter playing with her dolls on the floor, his laptop placed on his knees indeed pulled up making the dreaded Job offer a nanny.

mason never wanted this to happen from the day April was born he looked after her, but times are getting hard, and there's only so much his mother or dad could do. Once he finished posting the nanny advertisement on Indeed he closed the lid to his laptop put it beside him on the sofa and looked down at his baby girl who was playing with the bratz hair "Come on my love let's have a bath we have a long day ahead tomorrow." Letting April place her toys on the floor.

picking up the little girl placing her arms around his neck, and kissing him on the cheek Mason smiled walking up the stairs and into the bathroom placing April onto the toilet seat "Daddy's going to get your nightwear from your bedroom stay, here until I get back" April nodded quickly. mason turned around turning the taps onto the bath Letting the water get a bit hot before putting the plug in "All alright my love I won't be long" heading towards her room quickly grabbing her favorite fluffy pajamas from the draws and her nightie that were hung behind the door heading back to the bathroom. Helping April to get undressed and into the bath once he knew she was safe, he sat on the toilet seat watching her play with the bubbles that he put in beforehand and her bath toys. "Alright, my love, let's have a wash and wash your hair." Mason stood up, putting the soap on the sponge that he dipped in the water. and gave her the sponge. He grabbed the shower head off its bracket, turned it on, and started to wash her hair.

Assisting April out of the bath letting her play a little bit more once she finished having her wash placing her on the ground getting the towel from the radiator, and making sure she was dry before getting her in her pajamas "Come on my little love bug let's read a story before going to sleep" grabbing hold of April's hand and taking her Into her room.

Mason tucked his little girl in bed, putting her covers under her chin. " All right, my love, do you want me to read you a story?" Pushing her hair away from her face and kissing the top of her head "No Daddy, not tonight" Mason smiled kissing the top of her head once last time "Goodnight love bug" walking towards the door turning the lights off, and leaving the door ajar so she can see where she was going if she got up in the middle of the night. He went into his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. getting undressed into his pajamas, pulling the quilt covers off the bed a bit, getting inside his own bed,letting sleep take over him, and wondering about what the next day will hold.

#imagines #manchester united #football imagine #football imagines #football #imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #premier league #mason mount x y/n #football fanfic #man utd #mason mount one shot #mason mount x reader fanfic #mason mount x you #mason mount x oc #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football x you #mason mount

[hendolish]

rashy x kobbie besties era ❤️

#i love them together <3 #smiley rashy again !! #england nt #england #england national team #england football #football #football rpf #marcus rashford #Rashford #kobbie mainoo #mainoo #man u #man utd #man united #manchester utd #manchester united