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snowflakedresss · 7 months

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Homesick (1) - Kylian Mbappé

synopsis, prologue

Water dripped onto the marble floors as I stood before the apartment door. August was having mood swings when it came to the weather, and I had fallen victim to numerous surprise rain showers. My hair was frizzing up as it dried, and the wet clothes clung to my body.

A yellow sticky note had been left on the door for me, and I tore it off, bringing it closer so I could decipher the elegant cursive writing. "Madeline, I'll be back in a few hours. Feel free to use the spare key (It's in the same place as last time) - Sara. ''

I crumpled the paper into a fist and pocketed it; she was always leaving me messages on sticky notes. She said it was a security issue to give me her phone number in case I shared it. I turned to the flower pot beside the door and dug my fingers into the soil, silently cursing her for keeping it so deep into the pot. I'd like to think she didn't do it on purpose, but I know she'd be smug with the idea of me rooting through the dirt like this.

"Can I help you?" A voice called from behind me. I retracted my fingers, having no luck finding the key. Turning my head sheepishly, I must look crazy. The blood immediately rushes to my face as I come face to face with Kylian Mbappé. Could this day get any worse?

An amused smile etched onto his face as he looked me up from head to toe. In a way, that definitely made me feel more self-conscious thinking about the fact I most likely resembled a drowned rat. As though he was immune to the bad weather outside, his clothes were completely dry, and as much as I hated to notice, he was incredibly attractive. As though he could hear my thoughts aloud, his eyes met mine, and his smile slightly dropped, his gaze becoming more intense, and his head turned slightly to the side. My heart beat loudly as I feared he might recognise me.

"Sorry, I'm the cleaner, and I was just looking for the house key," I say, my words rushing out as I dig into my pocket to show him the Post-it note. I smoothed the crinkles from where I'd crushed it and held it up for him to read; however, he didn't take his eyes away from me. He reached out and pushed my hand down a smile forming on his face.

"That's good to know, and here I thought you were breaking in." I laughed nervously, looking down at my dirty Converse, biting my lip as I cringed. It would be a lie to say I paid much attention to football, but I did like to keep up with the national team during the Euros and World Cup, and Kylian was always the one my eyes lingered on; he seemed to have such an attractive aura to him. Perhaps I'd seen a couple of shirtless pictures of him during my social media stalk a few years ago, and now, as if the encounter couldn't get any worse, those images came to mind, heating my cheeks up even more.

"Madeline, right? Your mother has told me plenty about you. Your studying medicine?" He gave me an appreciative look. His words catch me off guard, and I look up to him. I never expected that my mother would talk much to the couple she worked for. I always thought she'd only ever exchanged pleasantries. Since my conversations with Sara had been of very few words except in relation to why I was there, I never assumed they'd have such personal conversations, let alone about me.

"Yeah, I'm in my second year, actually, so I still have a long way to go." I smile up at him. I didn't realise how tensed up I'd been as my shoulders relaxed and my heart settled to a steady pace. Suddenly, I was reminded that this was a regular guy.

"Still must be a lot of studying." He said looking me over again and I suddenly realised I was shivering.

"oh wow, you must be freezing, let's get you inside, and you can get dried off." He unlocked the door and ushered me in. I looked up at him as he brushed past me, feeling in an almost dazed state. As soon as we entered, warmth enveloped me. The rain was splattering on the high windows, but the apartment was almost unbearably hot.

Kylian took his bags in the direction of his room, his and Sara's room, I reminded myself, and I stood awkwardly at the entrance. I felt hyper-focused on my every movement. Did I smell bad from the rain? Was my hair a mess?

"Here you go." Kylian walked back out with a towel and an oversized black t-shirt.

"Thank you so much. Is it OK if I use your bathroom to change and freshen up? I promise I won't be too long; I'm already behind." I bite my lip in anticipation of his annoyance. I knew Sara wouldn't be happy when she returned, and I hadn't finished. She'd also requested that I make cookies before I left something about her niece and nephew coming over.

"Of course, and no rush, take your time." He smiled down at me, and I feared my heart might fall out of my chest as it beat so hard. I ducked my head in thanks and brushed past him until he wrapped his hand around my arm, spinning me back to face him. He carefully placed his hands on both of my shoulders.

"And try to relax. I bet your schoolwork stresses you a lot, and now, with your mother in the hospital…I don't want you to feel forced to overwork yourself in this job. I promise the job will still be here for your mother once she's recovered quickly." He squeezes my shoulders before turning around and walking into the kitchen.

I couldn't help the stupid grin on my face as I got the ingredients ready for the cookies. I barely felt the time passing as I vacuumed and dusted the apartment, careful to not bother Kylian in the bedroom.

I chewed the inside of my cheek as I looked over the recipe I'd found on my phone. Thankfully, Sara had bought all the ingredients I'd need; however, that didn't help the fact I was not good at baking. Well, I might be good, but I had not baked since childhood, and my mother would always take over. Baking was like a chemistry experiment, right? I was good at chemistry.

I clapped my hands to clear my thoughts, tied the apron around my waist and got on with the cookies. "Something smells good," Kylian says as he enters the kitchen. I turned and looked up at him; he towered over me from this position. I was sitting cross-legged in front of the oven, checking the cookies didn't burn.

"I hope they taste as good as they smell", I laugh as I get up, brushing my hands on the apron. I'd already cleaned up the mess I'd made, so I texted my friend to meet me in ten minutes when the cookies were done, and I could leave.

"Hey, you have a little…" Kylian brought his thumb up and swiped it across my cheek, showing you the flour he'd wiped off before wiping his hand in the tea towel I held.

"Oh, thank you." I blushed, looking down at my feet. A series of beeps came from the oven, and I quickly spun around, opening the door with an excited smile as I took out the golden cookies.

"Wow," I said as I placed them on the stove, turning the oven off and removing the apron. Hopefully, Sara was OK with me leaving them on the tray because I wanted to avoid transferring them to a plate and risk breaking them apart.

"Can I taste test?" Kylian asked as he watched me grab my phone and bag.

"Yeah, they might be hot, though," I said, turning to him to watch his reaction. I watched him blow on one, eyes fixated on his mouth as he took a bite. My eyes widened as he grimaced, but perhaps I'd imagined it as he made satisfactory noises.

"These are incredible." He said, smiling at me.

"Really?" I ask in disbelief, my cheeks hurting from how hard I was smiling…perhaps I should give up medicine and start baking. I walked over to taste the half he had left, but he quickly took it and shoved it in his mouth.

"Sorry, they are just so good." He smiled sheepishly.

"Oh wow, just don't eat anymore, or they'll all be gone before Sara comes home with the kids. Bye," I say, making my way to the door, really happy with myself.

"Get home safe," Kylian called as I shut the front door.

"What's that smile on your face for?" My friend, Brooke, says as she pushes off the wall she'd been leaning on.

"Oh, nothing. I just found something to add to my many lists of talents." I giggle as she scrunches her face at me pulling me into a hug.

"Oh, so it has nothing to do with the hot football player you work for?" She wiggles her eyebrows, making me slap her chest, a gasp leaving my lips.

"Brooke!"

"What? I'd do him." She laughs.

tags;

@nightlockcornucopia @http-isabela @mywhimsyjournal @arzaya

@mitruscity

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snowflakedresss · 8 months

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ALL OR NOTHING - THREE

pairing: kylian mbappé x reader

summary: Childhood sweethearts. After a tearful, transformative departure at just 19, four years pass by. And now, at 23, you are being forced to awkwardly reunite with your ex-boyfriend to fulfill your dreaded journalistic duties.

authors note: HIIII AGAINN!!! i just want to say a quick thank you for all the love you guys have given me over all or nothing despite having to wait so long. hopefully these two chapters can keep you fed whilst i finish up chapter 4, (i won't make you wait 500 years for the next chapter i promise!!) i have so much in store,, anyways enjoy <33

previous chapter here

“Y/N?”

That voice. A voice you knew all too well. A voice that evoked the feeling of sweet nothings, sticky fingers, infectious grins, tears, cocoa and comfort. Genuine serenity, the type that made your heart slow a couple beats and your eyes shut longer. That voice. It reminded you of everything good and all the bad that shortly followed.

You turned hesitantly, facing him from the other side of the room. It was you and him. The passers-by in the hallway are all too consumed with work, or too stressed to notice the look that you’re giving each other. You lock eyes. He’s clearly still recovering from an intense match, it was visible. His socks are stained with muddy debris, one hand holding his defaced cleats, his chest slick with sweat as he hangs his shirt on the back of his shoulder. He’s changed a startling amount since you last saw him. His face matured, as you inspect the way he grew into his features. His dimples still popped out with every contortion, and his eyes still were downturned with big brown pupils. Your breathing was hollow.

The confusion on his face was evident but somehow you could still make out a speck of relief. Slowly, he inches towards you, crossing the invisible boundary. Your instinct pushes you to step back into the bathroom behind you, essentially hiding away from him. You try to catch a breath alone, but your solitude is quickly disturbed as he enters without a care in the world. You internally thanked yourself for choosing the one bathroom with only one stall.

“You can’t-”

“Hi.” He breathes out, watching every part of you, almost as if he was unsure whether you were real or not. He keeps a glare on you as his breath catches in his throat.

His eyes introspectively scanned the entirety of your face.

You couldn’t speak. Your dehydrated throat becomes a physical nuisance. Your head throbs, the images of your early morning dream disturbing your functionality.

“Shirt.” You squeak out. You regret the one syllable that flew out of your mouth as soon as you uttered it. You think of how this looks, you and an engaged, shirtless Kylian Mbappé squeezed into a bathroom stall.

He glances down to his torso, grabs the shirt laying on his shoulder before pulling it over his head in one swift motion.

“I-”

“How are-”

You both pause at your joint state of haste. A small simper creeps up on Kylian’s face as you shut your eyes and shake your head in a bashful manner.

“You first.” Kylian says, as a coy smirk creeps up onto his face. You look up at him, taking note of that.

“I’m with you.” You state blankly, and Kylian’s eyes pop out of his head. You giggle quietly, realising how he completely misinterpreted your sentence. “No, as in, I'm with you for the interview.” Unbeknownst to you, his heart jumps at the sweet sound of your joy. He sounds an ‘O’, nodding his head in realisation. You try your hardest to bite back your laugh, cautious to not create any false impressions between you two. You were here for work and you’re sure he was getting married soon. You wondered when or if he was going to tell you, or whether you should bring it up. You wondered what else he could be hiding and whether he would bring that up too.

“You okay?” Kylian asks. This makes you furrow your eyebrows, posing the question of whether you were thinking out loud again.

“You didn’t say anything, you just have this look on your face when you’re overthinking stuff.” He declares whilst unintentionally answering your question. Kylian knew all of your facial expressions and what they meant; flared nose and squinted eyes typically meant annoyance whereas wide eyes and pinched lips meant admiration. He’s known them since you were both just a pair of moody children, and he’s sure he’ll never forget. He doesn’t want to anyways. Another amiable smile is plastered onto Kylian’s face, which swiftly reminds you of the lack of time.

“We need to do this interview. Like right now.” You blurt out quickly, wary of your time limits. Kylian’s eyes droop down to your neck, glancing over the gold necklaces. He squints at one of them, trying to figure out why he felt so drawn to one of them. You gulped harshly and hoped he wouldn’t ask any questions.

“Kylian-” The rest of your sentence faded out in his ears. Your sweet voice warmed him. It also sped up his train of thought. It's been four years since you’ve said his name. Four years without your unforgettable intonation. 1460 days without you.

“How are you?” Kylian asks again, his head turning with intrigue. You sigh discreetly. “If you’re worried about the timing, don’t be. I’ll sort everything out.” He states, answering your concerns.

You roll your eyes at his nonchalance. That’s one thing about him that always puzzled you. His ability to stay absolutely chill in every single circumstance, whereas you lost your mind at the mere thought of a stressful outcome. It was a good dynamic for you two. You couldn’t imagine having a boyfriend that was always just as stressed as you were.

“You know what? I’m feeling quite sad right now Kylian.” You declare, frowning to keep your statement believable. “And do you know what would make me feel better? Doing this interview with me, so I can go back to my hotel room and take a nap. A nap. That’s all I ask for.”

Kylian sighs, wiping off all the concern of his face. “T’es vraiment chiant.” (You’re really annoying.)

You let out a smirk at his blank face without a second thought. “On y va?” (Let’s go?) You question, as you both make your way out of the bathroom, and walk towards the pitch, walking through the tunnels. It’s silent as you begin to walk. You’re both very careful not to cross any boundaries. The two of you tread carefully, opening and closing your mouths at the attempt of sparking conversation to try and block out the deafening silence. Kylian succumbs first, piecing together a string of words.

“You know, when I first saw your name. I thought, what are the chances? There was no way it could be you.”

“Until I walked into your changing rooms.”

“Until you walked into the changing rooms.”

You sigh deeply, as you walk alongside him. Every breath you let out is coated with utter embarrassment.

“Let’s just forget that ever happened.”

“Forget what?” He replies predictably, looking down towards you with a smirk.

You shake your head and make your way towards the stands, close to where you and Neymar were previously, but you opted to stay closer to other people. A seat between you two acts as a barrier, as you prepare your questions. You quickly scan them on your phone, mentally preparing yourself for the interview ahead. You begin, leading with the topic of leadership within the team. But, the whole interview your eyes are locked onto your phone screen rather than your interviewee. You felt his eyes burn into you, so instead you made the wise decision to ignore any form of eye contact in case you got distracted. You grew coy in his presence, making your voice hushed. At certain moments, Kylian leaned forward to hear you, completely entrancing you with his evocative scent. After a few more questions and insightful answers, you cut the interview short, afraid of completely getting off track.

You both get up, making your way towards the tunnels.

“Thanks.” You thank Kylian for a great interview, smiling gently.

“It’s nothing. I didn’t do much. Thanks for your questions.” Kylian replies with a smile, redirecting the praise from him and onto you. You laugh at his inability to accept a compliment, looking up at him. He laughs staring back at you, before he pauses.

“Y/N-”

Kylian is cut off from the loud ping of a text message. You make an apologetic look and unlock your phone, viewing a message from your boss checking if everything is going smoothly. This reminds you of his request. You internally cringe at the thought of asking.

“What is it?” Kylian asks, noticing your sudden silence.

“My boss- he’s a big fan- honestly you don't have to-”

“He wants a signature?” Kylian finishes your sentence, laughing at your hesitation. You nod shamefully, embarrassed at asking your ex for a signature. “Honestly it’s fine-” Kylian pauses mid sentence, as if a new idea just popped into his head. You can physically see a smirk grow on his face. “Actually, you know what? Earn it.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as a scoff leaves your mouth, “Excuse me?”

“Earn it. Come to my studio to receive it.”

“Really Kylian? You can’t be serious?” You say, laughing.

“I don't think I’ve ever been more serious.” He replies, staring you dead in the eyes with his arms crossed. “See you later.” He walks off into the tunnel, leaving you shocked, your mouth wide open. The nerve of this guy, you thought to yourself, sighing at the extra work you have to now endure. His studio?

“Bold of you to assume I remember where your studio is.” You call out to him, dropping your hands down to your sides in puzzlement.

“We both know you remember.” He turns back around with a smirk plastered on his face, as he turns, leaving the hallway.

And as much as you hated to admit, you still remembered.

next chapter here

taglist: :@aechii @kylians-world @mrs-bellingham @imjellyjenny @xjval

second authors note: omg i have to say this chapter was really scary to post, especially since it was their first meeting... i wanted to keep that element of banter as they aren't exactly strangers to each other and literally grew up teasing each other, but also a little bit of distance. anyways tell me ur thoughts and once again i am so sorry :)

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snowflakedresss · 8 months

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snowflakedresss · 8 months

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The Loneliest | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]

Summary: Your fiancé missing your birthday is the icing on the cake to a horrible couple of months. Now, you’re left to pick up your broken pieces, ending the chapter in your life that includes Kylian Mbappé.

Warnings: Complete angst all the way through, Kylian being a bad fiancé, fighting, breaking an engagement, lots of crying, cussing, this one’s kind of long so beware. Spoiler: no happy ending. Let me know if I missed anything. — English is not my first language —

Mornings used to be your favorite.

You’d wake up way too early to the sound of Kylian’s alarm for your liking, but it didn’t even matter. The hour or so you got to spend with your fiancé before he left were sacred, it was special. They were filled with easy conversation, tired hugs and sleepy kisses on the shoulder, the occasional quickie, or at least a cheeky squeeze of your ass. It felt like very moment spent together was precious. You felt loved by Kylian so much it made your stomach turn with butterflies just thinking about him.

Now, it felt like those domestic moments were a distant memory. Sure, all couples gradually get less and less lovey-dovey the longer they’re together, but the change was drastic. It was like you barley knew him anymore.

You’ve attempted to start conversations with Kylian about this. Multiple times, in fact. Immediately, he’d get defensive, ending in arguments that kept getting worse and worse. It’s difficult to have to tip toe around your feelings in order to avoid a fight. He stopped making you feel special.

This morning, you woke up knowing it will be a hard day; all alone in your shared king sized bed.

Today is your birthday, and you don’t think Kylian knows this. After many weeks of deep reflection and thought, you know that today might be the last day of your three and a half-year long relationship with Kylian Mbappé — a man who stole your heart and still has it. Once treasured, now barely beating. The diamond sitting on your left ring finger had started feeling like a foreign object, like something your body wanted to reject. It’s lost it’s comfort, now you seemed to lug around old memories you clung onto for dear life.

Kylian didn’t come home last night, though you saw on his private Snapchat story that he was safe, sound, and plastered out of his mind at some club with friends you didn’t even know. He couldn’t find it in him to text you back after 9 o’clock, when that morning he said he would be home no later than 8:30. He found a simple ‘going out, don’t wait up for me’ to be sufficient communication for the night.

You called Kylian, instead it went straight to voicemail. Your texts to him weren’t going through, either. He didn’t have training this morning because the coaches had a conference in London, so you knew he had to be home soon.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you made your way to the kitchen for a bowl of bland cereal and coffee for one.

“Happy birthday to me.” You mumbled, looking down at your sad birthday breakfast. Compared to the last few years where Kylian prepared you a delicious meal, hired a chef, or took you out to the fanciest café in Paris — this meal actually made you lose your appetite.

Across town, Kylian was waking up with a pounding sensation in his head and no recollection of the night before.

“What happened last night?” Kylian grumbled as he woke up to the bright sunlight streaming in from the open shutters. His neck had a kink in it from passing out on his friend Paolo’s Airbnb couch in the early hours of the morning, his voice sounded like he’d swallowed gravel. “Fuck.” He covered his face from the blinding rays and felt around for his phone.

He hasn’t gotten drunk that heavily in so long, but when two of his old friends came to Paris for a few weeks, he couldn’t resist giving into their pleads when they’d asked him to tag along for a fun night on the town.

“Bro, you were so drunk last night.” He heard his other friend Bernardo chuckle, his voice almost gone as well from the festivities of the previous night. Kylian sat up, seeing both men looking half dead and clinging onto coffee mugs like a child would cling onto its mothers leg.

The guys chuckled in the kitchen. He smelled eggs cooking but they just made him nauseous. “What time is it? Where’s my phone?”

“Oh…” Paolo snickered and pointed at the bowl full of rice in the center of his kitchen island. “Yeah, man… I don’t know if the rice did much for it. It’s fucked.”

Kylian shot up toward his cell, not even remembering putting it in the rice last night. He carefully picked it up, the entire screen was shattered.

“Putain…” He attempted to hold down the power button just in case, glancing over to the microwave to see the time. 12:36pm. “Merde!”

He had an important meeting with his PR team about potential sponsorships for next years season at 2 o’clock, and if he showed up sweating whiskey with an obvious hangover, the brand reps might think twice before giving him any deals.

He bid his old friends goodbye but not before promising to go out again soon. A short taxi ride later, he was able to make it back home just a little after 1 o’clock.

Kylian bursts through the front door, booking it toward the shower in your ensuite bathroom, running right past you on the bed without a glance or even a hello.

You’d been trying to decide all day if you were pissed at him or just super sad, but seeing him ignore you that way made you realize that it didn’t matter. He stopped making you happy, making you both pissed and sad — a dangerous combination.

You get up and follow him in there as he hopped around trying to take his skinny jeans off.

“I’m gonna be late.” He panted, sliding inside the shower.

You assumed if he knew he would’ve said something… happy birthday… I love you… I’m sorry…

Curious and resentful, you stand close to the shower door so he could hear you. “Where are you going? I thought we…” You blink tears back, sighing and trying to get control of your wavering voice, “… I thought we could do something tonight.”

This wasn’t even the plan, but you were trying to find anyway for him to redeem himself.

“No, (Y/N). I can’t today, okay?” He snapped. “I’m in a rush. Can you please just pick out a nice outfit for me, quickly.”

You shake your head in disbelief, wiping a stray tear that rolled down your face, sniffling once. Kylian hears this and pokes his head out. “Hey,” his barely softer, “Look, sorry but I’m in a huge rush. It’s been a shit morning.”

“Me too.” You mumble, disappointment laced in your words but Kylian didn’t seem to catch onto it.

“Also, my phone shattered at some point last night, so can you call Thérèse and have her drop me off a new one at the training center?”

You huffed, getting control of your emotions that were simmering into anger. One more chance, you thought as you were about to walk out of the bathroom, you turn. “Do you want to do something when you get home? Maybe even just dinner here, a movie?”

“Maybe.” He said back, turning off the shower. All you could do is roll your eyes and bite your tongue. You were trying to give him every opportunity to come back from this.

You didn’t want to end it, but you promised yourself that if he fucks up today, that was it. You can’t keep hoping he’ll become the person he was before. He won’t listen when you talk anymore or even meet you in the middle. You have too much respect for yourself to settle for someone who can’t appreciate you.

You dry laughed. “Maybe.” You mocked, another angry tear rolling down your face, storming back into the bedroom and getting under the covers, arms crossed.

You wanted to sob, but choked it down when Kylian stormed out of the bathroom, wet and holding his towel up around his waist. “Why are you so moody?” He didn’t even look at you, just shook his head and threw his hand down, exasperated when he realized you weren’t putting an outfit together for him. “I just asked you to help me out.” He tusks. “Are you just going to lay around all day, then?”

You knew this tone. The one where something else was bothering him except he expressed it by nitpicking at anything in front of him. Being with him for so long, you knew how to gently pry out the real reason why he was snappy. Right now, there was no way were you even attempting to help him out in any way.

“Looks like it, huh?” You gritted through your teeth. You could practically feel the eye roll he gave you even though neither of you would look at each other.

He muttered something you couldn’t hear as he walked into the closet, hurriedly throwing on some outfit. “I didn’t feel like fighting today, (Y/N).” He growled and threw on a white hat. “Today has been miserable so far.”

“Miserable for you?” You gaped, face getting angrily red.

“Oh, don’t start.” He spat, grabbing his keys and walking out of the room.

You jumped up and stomped out of the room behind him, seeing him almost at the bottom of the stairs. “Kylian.”

He groaned, continuing to run down the steps. “I don’t have time for a fucking fight right now!”

“Kylian!” You yelled from the railing just as he grabbed the door handle. With an exasperated turn around, he locked eyes with your teary ones. “When you get home… we need to talk.” You didn’t try and hide your sadness this time, knowing how the talk was going to end. The sentence squeaked out, like your forced it.

He paused, taking his hand off the door handle. “Fine.” He said this differently upon seeing your broken demeanor, shuffling in place. Kylian checked his watch, looking back up at you. You stared back, watching him hesitantly leave your shared home.

Kylian knew he’d been fucking up with you lately. Coming home late, forgetting to call or text back, paying less and less attention to you as the season progressed. He knew he was getting too comfortable and at some point stopped putting in any effort. The worst was that he’d been taking his frustrations out on you, shutting you out. He watched as you tried to smile through his snarky and quick comments, feeling bad immediately but he just didn’t know how to deal with that kind of guilty emotion.

Your engagement has been a long one. Nine months in and you guys hadn’t even set a date yet. Time kept slipping through the glass, he wondered when the last time you’d even brought up the wedding was — wondering when the last time he even thought about it directly after.

The whole way to work he watched out the window, lost in thought about how he needs to be better. So much so that his driver had to tell him that they’d arrived. He was actually early. With a big fake smile on his face, he did his best to set it all aside, turning on work-mode.

Meanwhile, you had a really nice cry. The kind where you just let it all out because you knew no one was around to hear or pity you. Once you pulled yourself together, you gathered your suitcases from the attic.

It was obvious you couldn’t take everything that was yours. You’d bought so many things for this place, for your shared home… so you focused on the things you were for sure taking with you. All your clothes, makeup, sentimental items, and the fruit bowl you found in a market in Spain were secured inside your bags. You stopped and cried so many times… over a pair of shoes that he bought for you or a picture that brought back sweet memories… all these momentos felt wasted.

Yesterday, you were certain that he would remember what today was. So certain that you convinced yourself you didn’t need to get a hotel. You wished you did, because doing it today felt so final, so depressing. And, upon looking at your empty side of the closet, vanity, side table, bathroom shelf… you had to pull yourself together and be strong. Remind yourself why you’ve resorted to this.

Back at the training grounds, Kylian snapped his last photo-op with the CEO of some athletic wear company, absolutely drained from having to pretend for hours. He had sent his assistant off for a new phone when he saw her, knowing you didn’t text her about him needing one.

He trudged over to Hakimi now that all of that was over, sitting down with a long huff, placing his head in his hands. He hadn’t talked to him all day, being occupied with offers and whatnot.

“Man, I’ve been texting you all day.” He patted his back once, turning to face him.

Kylian looked up at his friend, shaking his head. “It broke last night. Thérèse is out getting me a new one now.”

Hakimi sensed there was something bothering Kylian, but knew not to approach him too strongly. He nodded at his answer. “So, uh… I bet (Y/N)’s pissed, right?”

Kylian blew a raspberry. “Oh, yeah… so pissed…” He nodded with the most exhausted look on his face. “Wait, how’d you know that?”

“Well, I mean, Hiba would be pissed too.” Kylian raised an eyebrow, still confused on how he knew about your fight. “You know, if I had to work on her birthday like this.” He laughed at the thought. “I’d have a lot of groveling to do. Or, did you guys plan something on a different day?”

Kylian gazed up at Hakimi, eyes widening with the vague memory of todays date. “Wait.” He gulped, hands hovering over his head. “Is today the…” he flipped the calendar in his mind, praying that Achraf was mistaken about that. “Ah… merde! Putain! Shit!” Kylian smacked the table and bounced up out of the chair, heart beating a million miles a minute.

Hakimi stood too, watching Kylian pace with his hands cradling his head. “No… Kylian, you didn’t…”

He nods, panic settling in hardcore. “I yelled at her today. I asked her why she was being moody. I didn’t come home last night— ah baise moi, mec. je suis un putain d'idiot!” He cursed himself. Ah fuck me, man. I’m a goddamn idiot!

Thérèse speed walked over to the man in crisis, holding a brand new phone. “All your data’s transferred and everything!” She cheered. Kylian probably didn’t even thank her, going directly to his messages with you to text you that he’s so sorry and coming home right now. When he clicked on your icon, he saw all of the messages you sent him last night

You: Ky will u please come home — 9:25 pm

You: I know ur friends are in town and all but I seriously need u with me tonight — 10:48 pm

You: hello?? — 11:51 pm

You: are u okay? Do u need a ride? — 1:35 am

You: I’m getting worried. please just reply. I need to know ur okay Kylian — 1:40 am

You: nice Snapchat story. Good to know ur fucking fine. — 2:46 am

He ran a hand over his face, beginning to sweat with guilt. His eyes lowered on the screen, the small grey message by the keyboard truly making his stomach knot up even more.

(Y/N) stopped sharing their location with you.

His heart fell in his chest, churning… he felt like he was going to puke. Suddenly all of the conversations you tried to start with him about his behavior over the last six months came flooding back. The same conversations he moaned and groaned though, always deflecting until it turned into a fight. God, how badly he had been treating you… like you were a menace in his life — when really, without you, he wouldn’t be able to go on the same.

He began trying to call you and gathered his things, but his calls simply rang until it went to voicemail. “I-I have to go.” He stammered, almost tripping over his feet. Hakimi watched, shocked at the state of his best friend, knowing how he could get sometimes.

Kylian jumped in the town car as fast as his world-renowned legs could get him there, giving the driver instructions to get him home, and quick. The whole way he cussed at slow drivers, construction workers, red lights. He checked his new phone for the time; 10:37 pm and still fifteen minutes away from home.

God, please let her still be home.

He won’t know what to do with himself if you just left.

‘We need to talk’ rung over and over again in his head like a jinx. The way your voice cracked, the tears he saw you hold back. She’s so strong, he thought.

I raised my voice at her. I forgot her birthday and then treated her like she was the problem.

He pinched his leg to distract himself from crying. He has to be level headed, calm, logical, loving, and very apologetic— everything he hasn’t been for the last months. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, but can’t imagine what his life, his future will look like if he lets you slip through his fingers.

No girl has ever made him feel like this. Everything he looked for in a woman you embodied tenfold and he fucked it up. He has to fix this.

Kylian didn’t even let the car come to a full stop when he arrived, tripping over his own feet, realizing he left his coat in the back seat but really not caring at all. He just has to know you’re there. He looked toward the driveway, seeing your car still parked in its usual spot.

Thank the lord.

Fumbling with the keys, his shaking hands clicked the door open, seeing only the living room lamp on.

“Bébé?” He called. He saw your figure looking at him from the couch. “Oh, (Y/N)…” he breathed, walking over to get closer. You stoop up, meeting him halfway. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He heaved, breathless from his pounding heart.

The dull yellow light illuminating the side of your face showed him how puffy and red your eyes were, how downturned your usual smile was. He saw what he’d done to you, all the months you’ve had to walk on eggshells, the conversations that he’s turned on you, how he forgot your special day.

You still didnt say anything, keeping your arms crossed, looking him in the eye — the while begging yourself internally not to cave. His sweet eyes knew how to reel you in. You weren’t going to cave. You couldn’t.

“I forgot your birthday…” He whispered sadly, guilt drenched his tone, sending a cold depressing shiver down your spine.

Your eyes brimmed with tears again, but you bit your cheek and shook them away, having to be strong for yourself. “So, you finally remembered.” You sniffled.

“I’m so sorry, bèbè. Time just…” he stopped himself from making anymore excuses, “I’m just a fucking idiot. And I’m going to make it up to you. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.” He stammered, voice shaking from nerves.

“But, it’s not just about the birthday, Kylian. It’s been… it’s..–”

“–I know, bébé. I’ve been horrible to you. Truly horrible. You never deserved any of that.” He cautiously lifted his hand to yours, grabbing your fingers. All the words he was going to say suddenly didn’t feel good enough. No I’m sorry is going to feel sufficient.

You looked at your tangled hands, he played with your fingers anxiously, trying to catch your gaze, but it now stayed glued to the floor.

You took a deep breath and looked up at him with teary eyes — that of a wounded puppy. It broke him. “We need to talk.” Your words were laced in false strength, false confidence.

You didn’t know what the hell you were going to do once you leave him. Flying blind isn’t something you did very often, but you knew it’s what had to be done.

“Yes.” He nodded eagerly, trying to guide your hand toward the couch to sit. “Let’s talk. We can talk this all out, right?”

His hopeful tone made your heart break even more. The guiltiness that radiated off of him made it harder to do what you had to… his face fell when you let your hand slip back into your folded arms, turning away from him, sniffling.

“Kylian, I can’t… I can’t sit down with you and hold your hand and let you apologize to me. It’s not how this is gonna go.” Wiping your cheeks roughly, you turned to see his dropped face. “This talk… it’s going to be really hard. For both of us.”

He approached you, putting his hands on your forearms. “You’re scaring me, bèbè.”

Your lip quivered, not knowing how to tell him. You couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Kylian. I love you.”

“I love you too. I love you so much, (Y/N). I know we can work through this. I know it.” He pleaded, moving his face around to try and get you to look at him.

“No, Kylian. I love you, but…” You finally looked up, noticing he’d started crying as well. Ouch. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting. Sure, he was scared and sorry about what he did but the possibility of breaking up seemed impossible. Not like he was immune to repercussions, but you two just made sense. He loves you impossibly too much, but he’s forgotten to show you.

Kylian stood in shock, he felt his heartbeat in his teeth, his throat dry. “Don’t say that.” He whimpered. “Please, don’t say that.”

His hands traveled up to hold your face and he bent down to your level, needing you to look at him, to see how regretful he was, how much harder he will work at this. He touched his forehead to yours, wrestling with the temptation of falling down from anguish.

You shook your head between his palms, letting the tears fall freely, a small sob escaping. He wiped away the tears with his thumbs, attempting to hold you closer, squeaking out the smallest words; “Bèbè.” “No, no.” “Please.” “I’m so sorry.”

You grabbed his wrists, using all your strength to pull them from your face. Immediately, you turned around and grabbed a duffel bag he hadn’t noticed was sitting on the armchair. Your feet took you toward the exit.

“No.” His voice broken, his own face scrunched up and soaked with tears. “No, where are you going?”

It took everything in you not to comfort him, run into his arms, tell him it will be okay.

You pushed your instincts down and turning and shrugged instead, now feet away from the man you love, closing in on the front door. “I’m…” You felt a choking sob threatening to spill out of your mouth and had to look away, silently crying out with your hand covering you mouth. With a deep breath, you continued. “I’m leaving.”

“Well, when will you be back?” In just a few strides, he was back in front of you. He couldn’t help but hold your face again, wiping more tears with a gentle but pleading touch.

You gripped his wrists again, only this time, you weren’t strong enough to pull them away, instead feeling his warm skin one more time.

With a small shake of the head, you responded. “I’m not coming back, Kylian.”

“But… but this is your home. It’s our home.”

“I’m sorry, Kylian.” You finally ripped his hands from your face once more and adjusted the heavy strap on your shoulder. Turning around, your feet drag you to the front door. You reach into your back pocket and take out the house key that’s not longer attatched to your usual tassel keychain and set it down on the table.

He stood there and watched, now feeling helpless in this heart wrenching situation. It doesn’t seem like this is real, he has to be having a nightmare, just watching you leave his life and there’s nothing he can do about it — but it doesn’t stop him from trying, begging. “Amour, no. I can fix this, please just give me a chance to make this right.” He was desperate, once again approaching you.

Kylian sniffled, watching your every reaction, hoping for a glint of anything that would allow him to make it up to you. You looked down at your hands, then your left ring finger… everything in your body was holding you back from taking it off, but you mustered up every ounce of self control.

Kylian looked away as you slid the engagement ring off, hearing the light clink of it being set next to the keys. With his hands at his sides, back slouching, he looked back at your face, nodding in defeat.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated in a squeaky whisper.

“Me too.” He nods, looking down at your empty hand. He couldn’t but reach out, trapping your fingers delicately with his fingers, stepping closer.

His arm snakes around your waist, holding you, shaking with his suppressed cries. You allowed yourself to hug him back, to close the chapter, to feel his warm embrace again before you never would again.

The hug lasted for a while, swaying back and forth and crying into each others shoulders. He smelled like he always did, and you noted how hard it would be if you came across his familiar scent again. He also was getting high on your fumes, indulging in the coconut scented shampoo he had become addicted to. The touch of your hands clasping at his back made him cry harder, squeezing you tighter and lovingly.

You pulled back once your cries calmed, sniffling. He stayed close, lifting his eyes to look into yours. Before he knew how to stop himself, he closed in the space, landing his salty lips on yours, closing his eyes. You kissed him back, hating how much you’d miss him. The way his fingers dug into your hips made you lightheaded.

It’s too hard to stop, but you had to. Pulling away, you turned around quickly and left, sobbing all the way to your packed up car.

Kylian was glued in place. His heart had been put through a blender, his head throbbed, his chest was cold without you with him. He saw the flash of your headlights backing out and leaving the property reflect inside the dark and empty home.

He’s miserable, hollow. He’s angry at himself, maybe at you, even if he knows this was his own doing… the whirling in his brain wasn’t anywhere near as loud as the silence after you left — a deafening silence that followed him up to us bedroom, one he now only shared with his thoughts.

It killed him when he saw there was no longer a charger plugged next to your side of the bed, that your slippers were gone from their usual spot by the corner. None of your favorite books were displayed on the shelves, your skincare products left just a ring of residue on the sink. Stepping into the closet, he noticed it still smelled like you, but everything was gone. Everything but the shirts of his that you had stolen through the years, now neatly folded on top of one of his dressers. He wished you had taken them to remember him. He wished he could turn back time and do everything right.

Above all the sadness and the gaping hole is his heart was determination. He fucked up but he wasn’t about to do it again. You would not be the one that got away. It may be the last thing he ever does, but he’ll make it all up to you. He was prepared to go to the furthest lengths to hold you again. But, for now, he needed to wallow in self pity, feel everything that he needs to feel.

Not even on the chilliest Parisian night had his bed felt as cold as it did that day.

A/N: Okay I feel like I kinda dragged that out but angst! I’m contemplating a part 2 but I also kinda like leaving it at this… would y’all want another part? Also, the title is inspired by the song The Loneliest by Måneskin, listen to it after reading. Their new album is so fucking amazing. — Requests for Kylian Mbappé are open! —

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snowflakedresss · 8 months

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pretty boy

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snowflakedresss · 8 months

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seeing all my friends traveling and going out during the summer and i’m here procrastinating and reading football fics

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snowflakedresss · 8 months

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Hard Earned Victory

Summary: Vini wins the champions league with Real Madrid and he and y/n go to a party with all his teammates and their gf/wives to celebrate the win. After the party y/n has to take care of cute drunk vini.

Warnings: alcohol and really cute vini.

Word count: 704

You were currently sitting in the VIP seats in the infamous, 'Estadio Santiago Bernabeu' cheering for your boyfriend, Vini. It was close to the end of the game and Madrid was winning 1-0 against Liverpool. The whistle was sounded and this marked the official 14th champions league for Real Madrid. You took so many photos that your phone had ran out of storage again.(this happens so much lmao) After the game, you and Vini were getting ready to go out to the club to party with his teammates and so you could catch up with the girls.

Vini's fit:

Your outfit:

(You can choose anything you want to wear :D, I just wanted to add a little visual)

While you were getting your makeup done on your vanity, you couldn't help but occasionally stare at Vinicius while he was getting ready. It's something you cant control, and seeing as though neither can he. Both your eyes meet with a smile and a light chuckle from Vini.

After a while you guys finally get into the car and start driving to the club.

"I am so proud of you today Vini"

"thank you meu amor, I was so glad you were there with me" (my love)

"i'll always be there for you Vini" and you gave him a quick peck on his cheek before you guys pulled up to the parking area.

Once he parked and y'all were making your way to the entrance, Vini lightly took your hand into his. Vinicius wasn't really the jealous type, but after seeing all the glances you were getting from the random men in the club, he wanted to make sure that everyone knew you were taken.

You guys made your way through the people heavily packed inside the club before taking a seat on the couches next to his teammates and your friends.

Y'all talked all together for a while before you and vini decided to part for a little. The boys were gonna go have a drink next to the bar area and the girls would continue talking together.

You were currently talking to Courtois' wife when you felt someone slump next to you on the couch.All the girls turned to see that is was none other than Vinicius.

"wanna dance pretty lady?" Vinicius asked

Your friends burst into soft laughter and started taking pictures of you two while you chuckled and said,

"I think its time we go home" you stated, immediately recognizing that Vini was really sleepy and tired as he was literally cuddling your arm.

You said your goodbyes to your friends and some of Vini's teammates as you made your way towards the exit holding onto Vinicius' hand so he doesn't accidentally wonder off.

You made your way safely to the car before taking the keys from Vini's pockets and holding on to them before you opened the passenger seat door as Vini clearly couldn't drive properly right now.

As you were driving you had noticed that Vini had fallen asleep.You were softly admiring him not realizing the traffic lights changing and being slightly scared when you heard a loud horn beep as a slight reminder.

Once you made it home ,you had to wake up Vinicius. You definitely couldn't lift him so he slumped against your shoulder as you unlocked the door to your shared home.You went into y'alls bedroom and helped Vini get changed into some comfortable shorts and a shirt. You tucked him into bed and kissed his temple before turning around to try and change your dress when you felt Vini pull you back into the bed.

"don't leave, I want you to cuddle me" Vini said as he slightly pouted his face

"I have to go change babe, I wont take long." you promised

"ok, just please don't take really long"Vini said

You came back in less than 10 minutes after having changed into one of Vini's shirts and some comfortable shorts.Once you laid down on the bed, Vini pulled you really close to him and whispered a quick i love you before going to sleep.You slowly started to drift off to sleep soon hearing his soft breathing and the light rain hitting the windows.

Author's Note: I've been on tumblr for a while and haven't seen barely any Vini imagines at all, so I decided why not try to write one. If you are reading this, PLEASE MAKE MORE VINI CONTENT. thats it :D, hope u like it. (all fiction, has nothing to do with the real Vinicius Jr, amazing player btw)

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snowflakedresss · 8 months

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Star Girl - Jude Bellingham (part 7)

Summary: When the Lionesses struggle to find a goal in the opening match of the Women’s Euros, will the reader handle the pressure, or will she break?

Warnings: none

A/n : sorry for the wait, I forgot how much I loved this.

“We can’t start the Euros with a draw.”

You feel the warm leather underneath your thighs as you sit in the changing rooms at old Trafford.

Music faintly playing outside as the last few fans take their seats in the red chairs.

Luckily, this place isn’t too unfamiliar for you.

Having joined Manchester United’s Womens team a little over two years ago at sixteen years old, you had become quite familiar with the red, white and black walls around you.

You hear short breaths from around the locker room, some out of breath from the warm up, and some out of pure nerves.

You look around to see Lucy Bronze, nerves of steel showing through as she stairs at Sarina, her chin held high.

Without you even realising, the whistle blows and all the players to leave the room, shoulders back with poker faces as they come out opposite the Austrian players. Their orange kits in bright contrast of your white ones.

You wait for Georgia to walk past you, yet when you look over your shoulder, she is still sat with her head in her hands, looking at the floor.

" What's wrong?” You ask as she looks up at you, her eyes wide and frantic.

“I don’t know whether I can do this” she says, her voice coming out at a whisper.

You sigh, your eyes softening as you take her small frame in.

“G, you’ve waited for this your whole life. Playing at Old Trafford in front of thousands and thousands of fans in a big competition like this.” You say, walking towards her and making her stand up and walk towards the changing room exit.

“I know, but that’s rather the point. There are so many people watching” she says, as you both walk into the tunnel where the eleven Austrian players stand.

“I have to go, but remember why you are stood here. You are good enough, you always have been. And if you go out there and play your hardest, some little girl will be out there watching, your shirt on her back and who knows, maybe one day in five years, she’ll be playing with us.” You say, whispering in her ear so as to not let the opposition see fear between the two of you.

You give her a quick side hug before walking out the tunnel, the england jacket still on your shoulders as you wave at a few fans while making your way to the dugouts to sit with the other players benched.

The familiar walk out tune starts playing as the two teams of eleven walk out, head high and shoulders back as the applause begins.

This is the start of something special

You watch as both teams like up ready for the national anthems, the mascots singing with them.

Leah walks to assume her position having just swapped flags and won the round of heads or tails giving England the head start in possession.

The whistle blows and tensions rise, your best friend kicking the ball to Beth Mead to begin the Euros campaign for England.

You clap your hands along with the rest of the crowd in encouragement.

You look around the Theatre of Dreams to see almost three quarters of the stadium full. You can’t help but smile, the future of women’s football looking promising.

Twenty minutes go by and still no goal.

Your nerves grow as you sit beside Alessia and Ella, the three of you sat back in your chairs watching the laborious match unfold.

You watch as Keira Walsh runs with the ball at her feet with ease, skilfully avoiding the Austrian midfield as she pushes for an opener.

Stanway runs up the left with Lauren Hemp dashing down the right as Keira speeds up, she passes to Georgia within an instant as they inch towards the Austrian box.

You sit up slightly as their pause increases, the formation looking strong as the white shirts dominate the orange.

“Pass, G” you shout, knowing she can’t hear you but, football is football, you have passion.

Ellen White, England’s all time female goal scorer thunders down the centre in space, dragging her defenders with her as the sun begins to set behind the Sir Alex Ferguson Stand.

Every england fan rises to their feet as Georgia crosses the ball in front of Ellen.

Your hopes rise as Ellen’s right leg gets raised behind her, ready to strike the ball.

Once her strong foot makes contact with the ball you hear premature cheers echo around you, you watch the ball, almost in slow motion, as it edges towards the net.

You think it’s in but as it goes further towards the white netting, it curves right and narrowly misses the few metres of netting as fans sigh in disappointment.

You wince slightly as you sit back in your chair, clapping your hands at the play making.

“We could’ve scored that” you hear Ella say to you and Alessia, her hand covering her mouth so fans can’t lip read.

You and Alessia smile but don’t react, knowing how it would look in the media.

True though…

You look at Sarina now, her arms flapping around eccentrically as she directs the ten players outfield as Mary Earps stands unbothered in the goal.

Nearing the half time whistle, more and more threat grows in England’s half, Austria pressing for their own chance at an opener.

Fans cheer loudly from the other side of the stadium, tucked nicely away in the away stand.

“If this drum goes off in my ear one more time I will hurt someone” Ella says as the drummer bangs repeatedly against his instrument.

This, you do laugh at, needing some distraction as an Austrian player takes a strike.

Your breath catches in your throat fearing the worst, Mary Earps gets their just in time as she leaps right, her right arm stretching out to get her fingertips on the ball directing it away from the net.

Your little trio claps at your international and club teammate in goal as she pumps her chest in encouragement for herself.

The referee calls for a corner as an Austrian player sets up the ball in the corner closest to you.

Her hand raises in the air as the ref blows the whistle.

She does her little run up before striking the ball, going straight over the heads of the England defenders.

Your breath catches again as a player from the opposition strikes the ball, Mary catching the ball in her hands safely as you cheer for her.

Nearing half time, Mary takes her time lining the ball up before kicking it, relief flooding every england fan and player as the half time whistle blows.

Claps echo around Old Trafford as the players walk off, including players in the bench.

As you begin your walk to the tunnel, you hear a little voice shouting your last time.

You turn around to see a little girl who looks very similar to you, a scarf drowning her frame with your name and number on.

“Yes?” You say sweetly, going closer to her.

“I hope you play” she says sweetly just before you get ushered through the tunnel by a security guard.

Me too… you think

Before entering the tunnel though, you swear you can see a familiar face.

He couldn’t be here, could he?

You sit back in your cubby on the leather seats, Sarina going through her second half strategy.

You hardly listen, distracted by the thought of your boy being in the crowd.

You feel reluctant to call him your boy, but hey, it’s your mind, why not?

“No substitutes for now, we did really well. Possession was slightly lost in the last five minutes but we dominated” you zone out there as your manager continues to talk.

No subs…great.

Georgia puts her hand on your knee before giving it a comforting squeeze, you look at her and give her a tight-lipped smile.

“Good luck, G” you whisper as Sarina instructs those on the bench to give the starting eleven a private pep talk.

Leah Williamson attempts to trip you up on your way out to make you laugh, having seen your sad face.

What a good captain she is…

The first fifteen minutes of the second half proceed in a similar fashion to the first half, england dominating with the occasional attack from Austria.

“Tired legs out there now” you head Alessia say as she points as Sarina and another strategist talking with an iPad in their hands.

Before you know it, an assistant walks up the stairs to where you are.

“Russo, Toone, and y/l/n. Warm up and prepare to go on within the next five minutes, we need you” he says before walking back down.

You immediately take off your jacket and put a bib on, before following your two other best friends down the stairs and onto the side of the pitch.

You run lengths up and down, do a few lunges and pass the ball between the three of you a few times before Sarina is waving you back.

It’s all a flash as the black board goes up to signify a change.

You take deep breaths as you watch Ella and Alessia run on, Hemp and White coming off in replacement.

Finally, your number is displayed as the crowd grows slightly louder, your name becoming increasingly familiar in the football scene as you make a name for yourself being Manchester United womens top goal scorer and assister this season.

Chloe Kelly runs towards you as she gives you a high five as you take your bib off and run onto the pitch, touching the grass before you do.

Your parents always taught you to appreciate where you are, hence came the tradition of touching the pitch everywhere you go.

The crowd cheers as they watch the familiar movement before you sprint into position.

Half an hour left to win.

Bronze wins the ball back as she passes to Williamson who begins to run towards the halfway line.

You read the situation like you have done many times before in training and begin to run down the left, just in front of Georgia.

Williamson passes with perfect accuracy to your bestfriend who immediately passes to you given she was surrounded by Austrian defenders.

You run as fast as you can as defenders run closer to you.

You pass the ball from foot to foot as you run, you swing your left leg to fake a shot as the defender jumps up slightly giving you the space to slot it through her legs with your left foot, running round her and catching it with your right as you grow closer to goal.

Your path is blocked by three defenders but you see Russo in space near the right of the goal.

You chop it over the heads of the defenders just slightly too far forewords.

Alessia jumps nonetheless and headers it near the goal.

Given your pass wasn’t in target, the header didn’t have enough on it to go in successfully, the keeper just narrowly saving it.

You hear the crowds disappointment as you wince, running a hand over your forehead.

You apologise to alessia as Williamson comes over to you.

“Don’t beat yourself up, that skill was immaculate y/n. That was your first proper touch for england in your career, and it was a brilliant one” she says before she sprints down to assume her position.

You nod to yourself before doing the same.

You look up to the display board to see ten minutes left of the match.

Still 0-0.

The crowd still encouraging as the ball is returned to England’s possession.

Stanway receives the ball and runs with it to the half way line.

It’s now or never…

You think as you call for her to pass it to you, you three or four metres ahead of her.

She does and you touch it with your left foot once and looking at the goal.

You analyse the space to see the keeper near the left hand side of the goal, the right hand side, open with no defenders close to it.

You pass it to your right foot and with one last look, twenty yards out from goal, strike.

You look up just in time to see the ball sailing into the top right corner, just the same as it did back in that first training session of camp.

The crowd instantly multiplies in volume as your hands go up in the air as you run towards the left corner of the pitch.

Goosebumps rise all over your skin as a shiver goes down your spine.

You’ve just scored in a crucial moment in the euros

You run into the fans in that left corner, hugging the girl that you spoke to just before the team meeting at half time.

“I told you” you hear her shout amongst the cheers.

You swear you could tear up as you look down at her, seeing yourself in her at that age and then picturing yourself now as your name echos around Old Trafford.

You feel your teammates huddle around you as they congratulate you, all shouting in excitement.

Everyone walks back onto the pitch after a while, yourself, G, Ella and Alessia and Leah all linking arms as you resume your positions.

You take one look back at the crowd and almost like fate, your eyes meet a pair of familiar brown ones in a lionesses T-shirt.

You scoff out of laughter, not quite believing he is here.

That’s why he was acting so weird

“I got him a ticket. It was last minute but my boyfriend couldn’t come so I thought yours might as well do” Georgia teases as she walks away from you.

That’s why they were sat together at breakfast

“He’s not my boyfriend” you reply laughing and she pulls a face before turning away.

You feel so dumb for acting the way you did but when you see Jude smile, all those thoughts go away.

One thing is for sure, you can’t wait until the match is over.

After ten excruciating minutes, the final whistle blows, your winning goal giving England a three point advantage in the group stage.

You spend a few minutes taking pictures with the fans before going into the tunnel.

After giving a short interview to the BBC, you head into the dressing room as music already blasts, the girls all laughing with each other.

When they see you, the room bursts into applause, your manager joining in.

“Very, very well played. Our player of the match and super sub” she says before giving you a hug.

You smile at her before taking your seat next to Georgia.

“Do I get credited for that assist?” She jokes with you.

“What assist? I was twenty yards out” you laugh, hoping she did get credited in the end, her pass was crucial.

“Okay, be on the team bus in twenty minutes” Sarina says before leaving all twenty two of you in the locker room.

“Little goal scorer” Leah says the moment the door to the locker room shuts.

“My bestie saving the day” Georgia says as she flicks the back of your ear.

You wince as a joke.

“The both of you are on fire. A real dynamic duo” Bronze says as her and Keira sit across from you.

“Not like us though” Ella says as she puts her arms around Less.

“Nah we don’t have a song yet” you say to Georgia.

“Okay we don’t have long, party when we get back but for now, get your assess on that bus” Leah says, her captaincy coming back to her, not that it ever really left.

“Yes, skipper” you say and salute her.

Everyone else follows after you as you all laugh.

You love this team, maybe you should trust the process.

You feel someone nudging your shoulder as your cheek is smouched into something hard.

“We are here stargirl” Georgia says as she wakes you up from your slumber.

You open your eyes to see the lights of Saint Georges Park brightening the darkness around the park.

You sigh and get up, grabbing your stuff and following the girls off the bus and into the lobby of SGP.

You are greeted by the applause of the men’s team and the staff, all lined up around the entrance as you walk through the two lines smiling.

Your eyes barely open yet, having fallen asleep the moment you got onto that bus.

“Okay girls, you can have dinner if you’d like but if you wish to head off the bed instead, that’s okay. We will see you in the morning” Sarina says as the claps and whistles dull slightly.

“I’m gonna head off” you say to Georgia and she nods as you head off to your room.

You are stopped by a few players, the likes of Harry Kane, Jack Grealish, Marcus Rashford, included.

The latter, you stay to talk to slightly longer.

“Brilliant goal, star girl” he jokes, his accent thick as you smile up at him.

You met Marcus last year at a training camp with the united players, both men and women’s.

Despite the age gap, you found a good friendship in him. One you’d imagine you would with a brother.

“Thanks Rashy. Bit of a rogue shot but it did what it needed to do” you laugh.

“It did better than that! Give yourself credit. You’re tired, but I’ll speak to you tomorrow, yeah?” He says smiling at you and tapping your shoulder.

You nod and thank him before getting your key from reception and heading up to your room.

You don’t expect someone to be waiting for you.

As you round the corner, your eyes meet the honey brown ones you saw earlier.

His tall, broad frame leaning against the door frame of your room.

In his hands, a set of white tulips.

“Here she is, miss winning goal” he smiles as his posture relaxes having seen you.

“I thought you were busy this afternoon?” You say “with training?” You cut straight to it.

His smile falters slightly but a larger one grows back.

“I couldn’t come across too obsessed this morning, but yeah. I wanted to surprise you” he says givinh you a little twirl.

As he does, you see the lionesses shirt on his back, has your name and number on it.

“Jude” you saw, your voice soft as your posture grows softer.

“And these are for you” he smiles again, stepping forward and handing them to you.

“Bless you, thank you” you say as you hug him, standing on your tiptoes as you wrap your right arm around his neck and he hugs your waist.

“Don’t thank me. You deserve it.” He says in a whisper.

His lips ghosting your ear.

You begin to unlock the door when you pull away before turning back towards him.

“Do you want to come in for a bit, I can make us a mediocre tea with the hotel room kettle and watch a film or the match highlights?” You say, your voice quiet in fear of rejection.

You could use some company.

“I’d love that” Jude matches your tone as he follows you inside.

Get ur head out the gutter, that won’t happen yet

Hope u loved it, sorry for the wait <3

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