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outsideratheart · 7 months

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Sweet Nothing (Alex Scott x reader)

You were a blue through and through. The whole world knew it, you were captain for heaven’s sake but that didn’t mean you were immune the charm of a red, a gunner and her name was Alex Scott.

You were never one to mix business with pleasure which meant you didn’t pursue a relationship when she was still playing. At that point it was only a crush. Besides your were focused on forging your legacy at your childhood club.

But everything changed the day Alex asked to interview you one on one for her documentary highlighting woman’s football and the role you played in it. That was almost 3 years ago and you could count on one hand the amount of people that knew about your relationship.

First to find out besides your families was Fara. The Euros was one of the best nights of your life and no way was you going to do so without your girlfriend. Alex was up in the studio with the rest of the BBC team and even though she saw your ‘I’m coming to you’ text message she didn’t think you meant now. You locked the door to the dressing room or at least you thought you did. Fara’s face was priceless as she walked in to find Alex on top of the table, dress pulled up to her hips, legs wrapped around your waist kissing you as if the world is about to end and this was the last chance she’ll get to feel yours lips on hers.

The two of you knew you needed to be more careful.

“Alex I’m telling you that Leah knows” you said whilst brushing your teeth.

Your girlfriend was at St George’s Park to cover how England are preparing for the Finalissima. Right now you are in her room at the Hilton on the grounds.

“What could possibly give her the idea that we are dating?” Alex asked innocently as she leaned against the doorframe in nothing but a robe.

“I have few ideas and the first one is that. You keep looking at me like that” you point at the knowing look that is plastered on her face “and then there’s the fact that you were ogling me during the photoshoot that you shouldn’t have been at in the first place and after you slapped my arse in the hallways when Leah was right behind you”

Those three things happened in one day and would be the moments that started the suspicions of your relationship. Leah was like a dog on the hunt for a bone and luckily for you she only wanted to interrogate Alex.

Your night to slip up came when Alex had been presenting SoccerAid. The dress she was wearing filled your head with less than innocent thoughts. It’s why you sent her a text demanding that she come to your apartment straight from the game and you made it crystal clear that she was not to get changed.

The problem came when Sam turned up at half time stating that she got bored at home and thought the two of you could watch the second half together. Your night turned into a military operation. You had to get Sam out of your apartment with enough time to tidy up before Alex arrived.

The match ended and Sam was taking her time leaving. She suggested that you play a game of FIFA and after one check of your watch you knew you had time only one game turned into two and before you knew it you heard a knock on your door.

Alex looked beautiful, more so than she did on the TV. She didn’t give you chance to say hello. Alex’s lips crashed into yours with a hunger that was shared. You pressed her against the door as your hands roamed her body. The tightness and thin material of the dress allowed you to feel every inch of her. She was intoxicating, it blurred your surroundings and for a moment you forgot that you weren’t alone in your apartment.

“Well well well what do we have here?” Sam says rather smugly.

You pull away abruptly. As you turn around Alex does her best to hide behind you, her hand covering her mouth due to the shock of being caught.

“Sam” you wanted to explain what exactly your club team mate has just seen.

“I was just leaving. You two have fun but not too much fun. Remember we have training tomorrow. Bye Alex” the smugness doesn’t leave until Sam does.

You went straight back to what Sam had interrupted but Alex pushed you away. Your eyes widen because you didn’t understand what was going on.

“Y/N”

A small chuckle escaped your lips but very quickly stooped as it became clear that Alex did not find it funny, not in slightest.

“It’s Sam. She won’t tell anyone. Look at Fara she has known for months and she hasn’t said a word”

Your words weren’t enough to comfort Alex. She was worried about people finding out even though you both knew it wouldn’t change a thing.

“We need to be more careful. Remember what we said at the beginning lovers in private—“

“Friends is public. Alex take a look around, we are in my apartment which is basically our apartment at this point. This is private, it’s our home and I will kiss my girlfriend if I want to” you steal a quick kiss to prove your point.

After that night you were on your best behaviour as was Alex but it was getting harder and harder to hide your feelings for the older woman. You were reaching your anniversary and you loved her more now than you ever thought possible. Feelings that strong are impossible to hide.

It was during the champions league trip to Barcelona when Alex told you that she didn’t want to hide your relationship but that she also wasn’t ready for the world to know. You were ok with this as it meant no more hiding in bathrooms when unexpected guests turned up at your homes and at events the two of you didn’t sit on opposite sides of the table, you sat side by side. Alex didn’t flinch or panic when she felt your hand on her thigh.

The night before the London Derby Alex laid in bed actively trying to wind you up about the following days game. She was confident that her mighty Arsenal would beat your blues. It wasn’t going to happen and when your girlfriend offered up a bet you knew that you would do everything you could on the pitch to make sure she lost. It’s safe to say when Chelsea won 4-0 you were more than happy to go do pitch side media.

Alex, Fara and Karen stood analysing in the game when you snuck up behind them. You playfully pinch Alex’s waist. After greeting the other two presenters you take your place by your girlfriend’s side.

“And joining us now is Chelsea captain Y/N Y/L/N. I imagine you are happy with today’s result” Fara asks already knowing that you would be in an untouchable mood.

“More than happy. I think we showed today why we are running away with the league. It’s always a good day when we come away with three points. The fact it’s Arsenal who we took those points off make it that much better” you turn and she her shaking her head. “Alex?”

“London is blue” Erin comes in shouting with Millie, Sam and Guro not far behind her.

“I can’t” Alex ignores the new company as her focus remains on you. Her eyes begging you not to make her do this live on TV.

“Are we missing something?” Millie asks.

“Yes you are. You see Alex here was so confident that I would be beaten today that she made a very interesting bet, one which she now has to pay up”

You take the microphone out of her hands and place it on the table in front of you. The women around you watch and wait for the bet to be revealed. A huge hint comes as they see Alex taking off her coat and you taking of the rather sweaty match worn and winning Chelsea shirt.

“I made a bet with Y/N that Arsenal would win today and the bet was whoever lost has to wear the other team’s shirt”

“I wonder when this was made” Sam whispers behind you “Whilst she was in your bed, I think so” Her last comment earns her a elbow to the ribs.

“You can’t welsh on a bet Alex” you hand her your shirt and take her coat for her.

Your girlfriend smells your shirt and to anyone else the sweat might be enough to put them off but all Alex smells is your perfume.

You cannot take your eyes of her as you watch her put on your shirt. She had worn your England shirt numerous times but seeing her in blue did things to you.

Once the shirt is on she makes grabby hands for her coat but you shake your head. She wasn’t allowed to cover the badge. Alex had to wear this shirt until the moment she walked through the door to your apartment where you would take it off her, that was the bet.

“The things I do for the woman I love” It slips out before Alex realises what she has said. Fully aware that she is live on TV she does everything she can not to react to her confession. Luckily she wasn’t holding a microphone so she hoped that her words wasn’t picked up.

The people watching at home may not have heard her but the 4 Chelsea players near you sure did. When the camera cut the two of you were subject to a hoard of questions, all you vowed to answer at training but on the one condition that they remain tight lipped and to your shock they did.

This moment did make Alex realise that this luck wouldn’t always follow her and she asked if you would be happy for your friends to know, to which you said you were.

The rest of the world didn’t find out till a couple of months later when the final whistle was blown at the World Cup final in Australia. Just as she was for the Euros, Alex was in the small studio within the stadium covering the game for the BBC. It was your mistake that lead to the Spain’s one and only goal, the one that would go on the win them the coveted trophy and the all important star on the shirt.

She was live on TV when she was shown you sat on the pitch refusing support from your team mates. She could tell that you were crying and it was confirmed when you pulled you shirt down from over your face. Your eyes were red and she could feel your pain.

The rest of the punditry team was talking about the game but Alex remained quiet as she watched the monitor, mentally begging someone to stay by your side and refuse to leave. Alex realised she is being spoken to when she hears your name get brought up.

“You know this team, you know Y/N. She’s the captain of this team. What do you think is going through her mind right now?” Jonas asks her.

“She will blame herself for this. Y/N comes across as this stoic player but she had the biggest heart and this will be killing her inside” Alex turns to look down at the pitch to see you all alone and even from a distance she can see your body is racking with sobs.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I need to go” Alex takes out her ear piece and hands it to one of the producers.

Nobody asks any questions as the former Lionesses walks out of the studio without saying another word.

You couldn’t believe what you had done. You, the captain whose job it was the lead the team to victory, had cost the team and the country the greatest accomplishment a national team can achieve. They had been playing the goal on the screens so you got to see your mistake over and over again. You deserved it, it was your punishment. You were never an emotional player but this defeat hurt more than any other in your career. Once again you find yourself pulling your shirt up to hide your tears.

“Look at me” you know that voice.

“I can’t. I can’t look at you Alex” your hands cover the shirt that covered your eyes.

“Please” Alex reaches for your hands expecting to be met with a fight but you didn’t have it in you. You had nothing left, no fight, no energy.

When you see her you break again only this time Alex is there to hold you. She pulls your up and into her arms, holding you tightly as your tears soak the shoulder of her pink stripped blazer. She lets you have your moment before trying to talk to you.

“This isn’t on you Y/N. You girls are a team. You win as one and you lose as one”

“But—“

“No buts. You lead this team to a World Cup final and that isn’t something to look over just because the game didn’t end how you wanted. You” Alex gently pokes your chest “will use this moment and come back stronger”

“I will” you voice is quiet but there is a hint of conviction in what you are saying.

Alex leans in to kiss you but you stop her as discreetly as you can.

“Look around, don’t do this here just because we lost” you divert your eyes to cameras that are around you.

“Who cares Y/N. If I’m not here for you now then I don’t deserve to be with you at all”

You nod you head. The game had broken you and there wasn’t anyone else you wanted to put you back together. Alex was it for you, public be damned.

“We were never the best at hiding were we?” You asked.

“No Y/N we weren’t but maybe that was the point. We wanted the world to know, we just didn’t know it at the time. Now let’s go, there’s nothing left for you on this pitch”

Alex drapes her arm around you shoulder pulling you in close. Your head rests on her shoulder as the two of you leave the pitch and into the changing room.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #alex Scott x reader #alex scott imagine #Alex Scott one shot

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love-studying58 · 3 months

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happy Masters of the Air release week. In honour of the series due to release on the 26th, I wanted to list a few faces we’ll be seeing throughout the series. I want to particularly note the crewmen of the 100th in hopes this makes sense to viewers who either a) didn’t have time to read any books based on the 100th bomb group, or b) want to read Masters of the Air by Donald L. Miller during/after the tv show aires. My lovely friend on tumblr @kylaym was happy to message me on instagram regarding who’s who for most of the 100th bomb group posts. She gets that everyone in uniform looks the same; same haircut, moustaches, masks, everywhere, etc. She mentioned it is always better to remember a bunch of lads as groups and crews than as individuals!

Here we gooo..

Colonel Neil “Chick” Harding

A West Point graduate and the school’s football coach prior to the war. Harding was a seasoned aviator who truly emulated much of the 100th’s attitude. He exhibited an appreciation for his crew’s mental and emotional well-being.

Major John C. “Bucky” Egan and Major Gale “Buck” Cleven

Two of the squadron commanders, Majors John “Bucky” Egan of the 418th Bomb Squadron and Gale “Buck” Cleven of the 350th, had piloting skills which matched their personalities. (Found top row 3rd and 4th members from left to right).

Captain John D. Brady

He served as a pilot in the 418th bomb squadron and was shot down during the mission to Munster on October 10th, 1943. (Shown here on the far left). He flew overseas in A/C #42-30071 “Skipper” as 1st Lt. Pilot. 2nd Lt’s being Lt. John L. Hoerr [Co-Pilot] and Lt. Harry Crosby [Group Navigator and Captain].

M/Sgt. Kenneth A. Lemmons

He served on the 351st Bomb Squadron and was one of the first crew chiefs assigned to the 100th Bomb Group. After being a part of the U.S. Air Force's ground crew, he was subsequently promoted to the position of flight chief. (Shown above in the front).

Harry H. Crosby

Harry served as a navigator in the 418th Bomb Squadron and later became Group Navigator for the Hundredth, however, his struggle with airsickness often hindered his ability to navigate. (Found above beside Brady on the right). Harry Crosby replaced Lt. Payne on the crew of Douglass.

Payne is found above on the right, beside Harry Crosby.

Lt. Howard B. “Hambone” Hamilton

He was a bombardier mostly known for flying with Brady’s crew.

On the October 10th Munster mission, crew #32 was led by Major John C. Egan as Co-Pilot. Near the initial point “Mlle Zig Zig” was hit by Flak, resulting in the following:

- Sgt Clanton passing away

- wounding Howard Hamilton and Roland Gangwer. (Both ended up spending a long time in the hospital).

- the surviving crew members bailed out but were taken prisoner.

Hamilton is seen above on the far left. Beside him on the left is Lt. James Douglass and Captain Frank Murphy.

Captain James Douglass

Served as a bombardier in the 418th Bomb Squadron with the Everett Blakely crew. (Seen above in the first picture beside Blakely).

Major Everett E. Blakely

Was a career officer of the United States Air Force. He was a highly decorated pilot of the B-17 bomber with the Bloody Hundredth Bombardment Group of the 8th Air Force. He is most commonly known for his crew’s plane “Just a Snappin”. On a mission to Bremen on October 8th, 1943, his plane was severely damaged by flak and enemy fighters. He later became the Group Training Officer (Shown above on the right and next to Major John Egan in the second picture above).

Blakely’s Crew:

Major John Kidd- Command Pilot

1st Lt. Everett Blakely- Pilot

2nd Lt. Charles Via- Formation Officer in the tail (SWA on the mission during Black Week)

1st Lt. Harry Crosby - Navigator

2nd Lt. James Douglass - Bombadier

T/Sgt. Edmund Forkner - Radio operator

S/Sgt. William McClelland - Ball Turret Gunner (WIA on the Black Week mission)

S/Sgt. Edward Yevich - Waist Gunner (WIA on the Black Week mission)

S/Sgt. Lyle Nord - Waist Gunner

S/Sgt. Lester Saunders - Tail Gunner (KIA on the Black Week mission)

Lt Roy Claytor

Roy Claytor was part of the 350th Squadron. Above, he may be flying as a command pilot in this mission or practice with the Claytor Crew.

He is seen above on the left, beside Cleven.

Major Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

Rosie joins the unit in late 1943. He becomes one of the 100th's most reliable pilots.

Rosenthal's Crew:

[Shown left to right; top row than bottom row]

Sgt. Loren Darling - Waist Gunner

Sgt. Michael V. Boccuzzi - Radio Operator/Gunner

Sgt. John H. Shaffer - Waist Gunner

Sgt. Clarence C. Hall - Top turret gunner/engineer

Sgt. William J. DeBlasio - Tail Gunner

Sgt. Ray H. Robinson - Ball Turret Gunner

Lt. Ronald C. Bailey - Navigator

Lt. Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal - Pilot

Lt. Clifford J. Milburn - Bombardier

Lt. Winifred 'Pappy' Lewis - Copilot

Lt. Curtis Biddick

Lieutenant Curtis Biddick was known as a ‘hard luck’ pilot but was recognised as exceptionally expert and courageous. ‘Every time he went out something seemed to happen,’ said one of his buddies. On one raid he brought his plane back with 1,700 shell and bullet holes in it and two wounded men aboard.

He clashes due to his English colleagues embarking on night-time raids.

Richard Snyder

Biddick's co-pilot and was part of the 418th Bombardment Squadron.

Okay.... So I truly hope this helps going into Masters of the Air tomorrow. I can't wait to see all the bomber boys spread their wings and fly. This tv series is going to be an absolute wreck (in the best way possible). Thank you to everyone who enjoys my posts. Love y'all.

#hbo war #masters of the air #austin butler major gale buck cleven #austin butler masters of the air #callum turner #john egan #barry keoghan #@mads-weasley

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ltwilliammowett · 5 months

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The Crew of the Vasa

According to the swedish navy's planning for 1628, Vasa's crew should have comprised 133 sailors and 300 soldiers, although the soldiers were only taken on board when the ship departed for battle service; they were not on board when the ship sank.

More than four-fifths of the sailors in the Swedish navy at this time were conscripts. Officials visited selected parishes in the coastal districts, where they conscripted one in ten men aged between 18 and 48 for naval service. If they already had experience in seafaring, they could be drafted between the ages of 15 and 65.

The navy was looking for sailors, but they got a motley mix of drifters, undesirables and sturdy farm boys, with a proportion of unemployed workers and some tradesmen. These men had to learn life in the navy, how to haul in a line or tie a knot, how to steer and how to cope on watch, all at the hands of the few professionals who formed the backbone of a ship's crew.

The sailing crew included 90 ordinary sailors led by a few able sailors and eight warrant officers, under the overall command of the captain and two lieutenants, who held commissions from the king. The senior warrant officer, the master, was the leading professional on board, an experienced sailor who converted the wishes of the officers into specific.

The Vasa

A master gunner and 20 gunners led crews made up from the soldiers, while a provost maintained discipline and directed damage control in battle. A purser kept account of the provisions while a cook prepared meals, and a barber cut hair and looked after the health of the crew.

Outside of these men, the navy yard provided a group of carpenters to maintain the ship, a priest took care of the spiritual needs of the crew, a trumpeter or drummer communicated orders, and a number of ship's boys, usually over the age of 12, carried messages and charges for the guns as well as acting as servants for the officers. Because Vasa was a flagship, it would be expected to carry an admiral and his servants as well.

#naval history #vasa #swedish navy #crew #early 17th century #age of sail

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yellowkitkieran · 5 months

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To Have and to Heal (Part 14)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

Martin should be focused on today's match. In less than two hours, he'll be out on the pitch to captain his side. He needs clarity. He needs precision. He needs to stop thinking about you.

But everywhere he looks, he's reminded of you. He can't bring himself to delete the dozens of photos on his phone or the messages you've sent him. The note you stuck in his duffle one day still hangs in his cubby, shoved between the shelf and the back wall. Martin aches worse now than being plowed over by a defender. How is he expected to lead when he is a husk of who he's meant to be?

Martin runs a hand through his hair. At no point did he expect to become this attached, to have his mood so dependent on another person. He doesn’t like it, not at all.

"Mate, you giving this talk or am I?" Kieran's Scottish accent grates on Martin's ears for no good reason. Kieran has been doing that quite a bit lately; he talks quietly about the woman he’s started seeing, and is careful to avoid doing so in Martin’s presence, but it still stings. At least someone on his squad is happy.

Though grateful for the offer, Martin shakes his head. Team talks ahead of games are his responsibility, and he'll be damned if he misses it because you dumped him. Heartbreak aside, he needs to be the captain his team needs him to be.

So, Martin clamors to his feet. He forces his shaking legs to work, to remain steady, whilst his mind works through the fog surrounding it. Each step he takes towards the center of the sparsely decorated away dressing room feels like he is wading through waist-high molasses. But Martin has always been a fighter, and today is no different.

“Facing anyone away from home is tough," Martin starts a minute later. He sounds more confident than he feels, which he is grateful for. "Nothing we haven't won before, though. Their fans are harsh but we are strong. We've faced worse and come away with three points. I'm not saying this will be a cakewalk." Martin observes the faces of his teammates, noting which seem hesitant and which are hungry. There's fewer of the former thankfully, which bodes well for their chances.

"This will be both a physical and mental game. We haven't been challenged like this in over a month. Our last fixtures have been easy wins. No frills, nothing fancy- go back to your roots, the basics. Let's show our gunners what they traveled all this way for!"

Though far more brief than his usual, Martin's words have the desired effect regardless. The lads all clap and cheer, raring to go. Slipping into his matchday headspace is easier now that his teammates are here to lift him up.

Not that it matters- ten minutes into the match Martin knows they’re done for. Sevilla batters Martin's side, raking them across the coals. A 3-0 loss away in the Champion's League isn't exactly a morale booster. The changing room is quiet after the final whistle blows. Arteta doesn't bother to give any sort of speech. The gaffer lets the silence speak for his disappointment, which somehow hurts more than if he had screamed at them for hours. Martin himself is too caught up in his head; his loose passing led to the goal that sealed their fate tonight, and that's not something he'll forgive himself for any time soon.

On the ride from the stadium to the airport, Martin turns his phone over in his hand. In a perfect world, you would be at his house comforting Atla right now. The two of you would be cuddled up on his sofa, Atla probably insisting on being wrapped up in the duvet off Martin’s bed- that’s always her favorite on match day.

The worst thing about an away loss is knowing that Atla’s nanny, bless her heart, won’t be able to keep Atla from crying. She hates seeing Arsenal lose, especially when it’s in the Champion’s League. Her poor nanny is probably frantically attempting to soothe her, though Martin is certain Atla won't calm down until he is home early tomorrow.

If Martin is sure of anything, it’s that he needs to get his mind off of his lackluster performance. Because if he fixates on it, he’ll be lost in his head for who knows how long. Martin, as the face of his team, needs to be focused on the bigger picture. Arsenal still tops their group, regardless of tonight’s result; though even that knowledge cannot lift his heart enough.

Messaging you might possibly be the worst idea he's ever had. He convinces himself to tuck his phone away until he's on the plane. There, crammed between the window and a snoozing Aaron, he can no longer resist temptation. Martin connects to the onboard wifi and pulls up your contact.

He shouldn't.

It's a bad idea, right?

Fuck it.

I miss you. If I asked if you're free tomorrow night what would you say?

Delivered at 21:53. Martin stares at the screen until his eyes grow heavy. The 'no new messages' in the app hangs over his head. When Martin falls asleep against his will, he dreams of titans tumbling from their mountainous perches, crushed under the weight of unmet expectations.

*********

Leaving Martin's message unread is an exercise in restraint. Your fingers itch to click on it for multiple reasons, not the least of which is genuine curiosity. You know it starts with 'I miss you' and includes some sort of question, though you have no idea what he'd be asking. Maybe he wants the kit he gave you back, but he's too afraid to ask outright.

Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. It's Monday, which means your students are your focus, not your personal life. Throwing yourself into work has never been a problem; you find small tasks to keep you busy when your students are working quietly in groups. Things like testing whiteboard markers, sharpening pencils, organizing bookshelves. Anything that keeps you busy and on your feet is acceptable at this point. Motion means distraction, and distraction means you don't think about your phone sitting in your bag.

Your prep period comes and goes without incident, as you plan your entire week of lessons in the hour-long session. Your best friend is absent today, meaning she thankfully doesn't barge in to bother you about your day with Martin. Thank the stars, because you aren't sure you could have that conversation without a breakdown. At least you only have a few more hours until the final bell rings, and then you only need to get through after school care before you can flop on your sofa with a container of ice cream.

Your stomach ties itself in knots as you set up the gymnasium like you normally do. Coloring pages are laid out on the plastic picnic table, footballs are scattered around a child-sized goal, and snacks are set out for kids to grab as they come in. You keep yourself as busy as possible whilst they arrive. You recognize Atla’s laugh rising above her friend’s voices and force yourself to remain seated. After successfully avoiding speaking to Atla for nearly an hour, a glance at the clock confirms your fear: her guardian is late for pick up.

"Hey, Atla," you murmur, crouching down to her level and keeping your voice light. You're fully aware of how she bristles when you speak, her little shoulders going rigid. "Is your papa picking you up today?"

"I don't know." Atla turns her head slightly away, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. It isn’t her responsibility to know who is meant to pick her up, but if you can avoid calling Martin to clarify…

You sigh through your nose while offering the child a smile, "do you remember him saying anything about pick up today? If someone different was coming by, maybe your uncle Kieran?"

Atla shrugs, continuing to color her cotton candy bunny. She sighs, purposely not offering you a pencil like she normally does. You know why, of course. You can’t exactly blame her for being frosty.

Rationalizing with children is no simple feat. It isn't your place to sit down and explain to Atla what dating is, and why it isn't a sin for Martin to be dating her teacher. She's a toddler, and in her mind her mum will be coming back. Her mum would be devastated to find Martin with someone else, and that's all that matters to Atla.

Instead of talking, you communicate in Atla's language. You pick up a purple pencil on your own and leaf through the printouts until you find one of a frog, then set about coloring it in. Atla pauses, clearly curious about your design, and watches you with bright blue eyes. You let her, wanting to repair the relationship you have with her above all else. It doesn't matter that your heart aches when you look at her and see Martin's features in her delicate face; she is a student and you love her the same as the rest.

You draw bright polka dots across the frog, determined to communicate in an easy, stress free way. Atla is an artist and as such, regardless of her age, her mind is soothed by creativity. You allow yourself to relax as Atla shows no signs of rejecting your companionship. You are all too aware of her eyes on you, following each streak of color you lay onto the page. It is an effort to remain quiet, letting the soft music playing from your desk across the room fill the silence.

Finally, Atla squeaks out a question- "why were you kissing my papa?"

You mull the question over for a minute. You could lie, try and convince her that she had made it up. That would not be fair to anyone, especially Atla. No, the truth is best, especially because she will find out sooner or later. "Because I care about your papa very much. He means a lot to me, and that’s how I wanted to show him."

"You do?" Atla pauses to look up at you. “But I care about my friends a lot. I don’t kiss them! Papa said that’s only for people you love.” You afford her your undivided attention, setting your pencil down and sliding the page aside. Conscious of your body language, you refrain from crossing your arms to avoid closing yourself off. You have to be careful with what you say; the last thing you want is to admit your feelings to Martin’s tiny daughter.

"Yes, I do. I care about your papa. You know how sometimes in films, when the princess is really sad, the prince comes along and cheers her right up? That's what your papa is for me."

Atla's brow furrows like she's trying to picture it. She then sorts through the stack of coloring pages and pulls out one of Ariel and Eric, tapping the half-scribbled sheet, "like princess Ariel and her prince?"

You nod, thankful for her understanding. "Exactly. And I care about your papa so much that I'd let a sea witch take my voice," you lean over and pretend to grab at Atla, imitating stealing her voice from her throat like in the film. You continue when a delighted giggle fills the room, "and use it for her own plans. I'd be quiet my whole life if it meant I could be around your papa."

"I like when you talk. I don't want a sea witch to steal your voice."

"Well then I'll just have to protect it won't I? Can't have you getting upset!" You playfully tap Atla's nose, earning you another giggle. Her wide smile has her dimples on full display, a sight which you admit you’ve missed almost as much as her pa’s.

Martin clears his throat from across the gym. That funny feeling in your stomach reappears with a vengeance.

“Pa? Pa!” Atla's head turns and she immediately clamors over to him, her knee knocking the table in her haste to get up. Pencils roll to the ground and you bend to pick them up, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on your task and not on Martin. So studious are you that you refuse to look up even when a pair of black trainers edge into your view, followed closely by a pair of tiny white ones.

“Hello,” Martin murmurs. Your entire body tenses at the sound of his voice. You haven't realized how viscerally you've missed it until you hear it.

“Hello Mr. Ødegaard.”

Martin doesn't speak just then. He doesn't need to; the title you've used says more than a thousand words ever could.

Square one.

“I apologize for being late. Training ran long,” Martin says with perfect formality. Gone is the hint of flirting you had come to expect. There are no traces of fondness. Instead his words are punctuated by an undercurrent of mourning.

“It’s not a problem. Don't fret about it. Atla’s bag is on the coat hook- these are hers from today.” When you stand to hand over the drawings, you train your eyes on the crest on Martin's chest. You refuse to glance any higher. If you do, you know you won't be able to control yourself. One glance at his eyes and you'll crumble, and you cannot allow yourself to be so selfish.

“Atla, grab your things please.”

“Yes, pa.” Atla's little footsteps ring through the gymnasium, piercing in the silence. You and Martin both remain frozen, as your feet are glued to the polished wood beneath your feet. Your heart is an ocean in your ears. It pounds on your ribcage, begging and pleading to be set loose. Your fingers twitch at your side, joints aching to reach for him. You crave the familiarity of his lips, the burn that washed over you with each tiny kiss you shared.

“You got my message the other day, right?”

“Oh- yes I saw something from you. I didn't read it though. Just got so busy, I must have forgotten.” Your stomach flips when Martin's posture slumps ever so slightly. You nearly reach out to comfort him but stop yourself at the last moment.

“Right, of course.” Martin shifts on his feet, glancing at Atla quietly stacking cones. “I was trying to ask if you had some free time this week. Thought maybe we could do something.”

You think back on the conversation you just had with Atla. Though she is incredibly mature for her age, you still don't feel right about having anything other than a professional relationship with Martin. “Mar I'm sorry, I can't-”

“Of course, I understand. Just thought I'd try one more time.” Martin smiles softly. The gesture does not reach his eyes. Martin looks so unlike himself, so timid and small, that you scarcely recognize him. “Atla, are you ready søta? It's time we get home, uncle Kieran is coming by to steal your chicken nuggets. We have to get there first or there won't be any left for you!”

“I told uncle Key those were mine!” Atla screeches, stomping over to Martin and grabbing his hand. “Come on pa! We have to go!”

Neither father nor daughter glance at you as they make their way out. You remain rooted to the spot long after Atla's laughter fades. Cleaning up and locking the door upon your exit are the result of simply going through the motions. Muscle memory takes you home, barely remembering snips of the drive.

The emptiness in your heart remains long after you have sunk yourself in a warm bath, wine glass in hand. Not red, never a red anymore, because you cannot stand the color. Even a deep merlot reminds you of him, of sharing that bottle in front of his fireplace the first night he’d invited you inside to chat. Neither of you had wanted to leave, though you reminded him that you had to be up early in the morning.

The pinkish washcloth you run over your arms was once a vibrant cherry red. Even that stings more than you care to admit. More wine, another glass, anything to stave off the tears threatening to fall. Why did you have to say yes to that first date? Why did you cross that line, blurring the boundary between professional and personal?

It takes one more glass of wine before you find yourself reaching for your phone, splattering soapy suds across the tile.

Could we talk?

#martin Ødegaard #martin odegaard #martin odegaard fanfiction #martin odegaard imagine #martin odegaard fanfic #martin odegaard oneshot #arsenal fc #jac writes #thath #alt timeline lover

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yourplayersaidwhat · 2 years

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Gunner: Okay, I’m gonna ping [hacker] with a message to stop rummaging around in the files and deactivate that turret, it’s kinda got me pinned down right now.

Hacker: You get a message back that says “Hello, thank you for reaching out - I’m actually at capacity / helping someone else who’s in crisis / dealing with some personal stuff right now, and I don’t think I can hold appropriate space for you. Could we connect at [later time or date] instead / Do you have someone else you could reach out to?”. Judging by the time it took, she typed it out from memory.

#shit my players say #submission #shareable #shadowrun #team spirit

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jinx-on-mars-19xx · 2 days

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Kill Somebody Like You

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: strap in kids, this is going to end up a wild ride 😉 ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats), (not telling who's what yet), serial killer/hitman Dom, mob boss Kells, blood, threats, knives, guns, fighting, inappropriate use of wet towels, sociopath Dom, drug use, cursing (duh), Dom being a little fucking weirdo, Kells ignoring everything, biting, blood tasting, heat blockers, slight control issues, self hatred, puns, boys being dumb, narcissism, inappropriate erections, stalking, talks of killing 💣 rating: lets say mature for now

Ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Name: Colson Baker AKA Machine Gun Kelly AKA The Machine Gun AKA The Gunner

Status: Alpha

Age: 27

Occupation: Boss

Address: penthouse at the Four Seasons

“‘Ow bloody knot’eaded can you get? Fucking Gunner? Alpha? No shite Sherlock. Course. Boss? Wha's tha’ even mean? Basically begging for me.” The man muttered as he stared down at his phone. He read back over the facts one more time before scrolling lower to see the picture of his mark. The blue eyes staring back at him from above dark glasses and through the screen were… shockingly pretty but he didn't worry about simple things like that. An Alpha was an Alpha was an asshole. An asshole who needed to be taken care of. That was his mission and his mission was all that mattered. It's what paid the bills and kept him from going off the deep end.

The message disappeared like it was supposed to. He only needed to study it for a few moments to remember all he needed. Normally he would have already locked his phone and put it away before it vanished but for the first time he couldn't help but linger on the picture. The Machine Gun was pretty for an Alpha. He'd been following him off and on for days so it wasn't the first glimpse he had but still. Those eyes. He was almost sad he'd have to ruin all those pretty tattoos and cover them in red but sad wasn't an emotion he knew. In fact the man in the shadows didn't think he truly knew any emotion, but sad? Definitely not. Especially not for a fucking Alpha.

The night was warm around him as he looked down at the balcony he needed to reach. Getting to the roof had been far easier than what he thought it should have been for a place that catered to such wealthy clientele, but it certainly made his job simpler. Of course the Alpha he was after lived in a penthouse- a mob boss of his designation would swing his knot around like that. Fuck he was tired of the damn cliches. He couldn't help but wish for one mark who was a bit more interesting. Maybe out of the norm, something fun and surprising. He'd still take them out but it might give him some variety. He never thought killing people would get boring but they were all the bloody same.

If not for the itch he so desperately needed scratching and the cash he needed to keep his wards safe he'd probably find a new occupation but the facts were the facts- he was a sociopath with a need for blood and he absolutely despised Alphas.

He didn't jump, not really. He simply stepped off the edge and grinned as the air tickled under his shirt. He was only in the wind a moment before his feet touched the solid ground of the balcony but it was long enough to prepare. To let himself slip deeper into the headspace he only allowed on nights like that. It was a job, but it was a job he desperately needed and he could only unleash himself truly when he had a target. He would sneak inside the flat and there would (hopefully) be a small fight. He wouldn't be leaving until the probably bland decorations were repainted in crimson and one more asshole who thought with his cock was gone from the world. As he started to pick the lock on the sliding glass door he had a small hope that at least this one didn't have the same stupid futuristic chrome tastes as they all did- but he wasn't holding his breath.

Colson sighed as he stepped from the penthouse elevator into his home. The lights were dim and neon but always on and he was fighting a hell of a migraine. He left them low and instead started ridding himself of his weaponry, locking his guns in a safe behind his favorite painting. His neck popped as he stretched it and peeled his holster off, letting the leather hang at his hips. Next to go was his button up shirt which he let hang open. Before anything else he needed a fucking pain killer and possibly a thick joint. Something had been messing up his system for days and no matter what he did his temples throbbed.

Col’s next stop was the medicine cabinet in his master bathroom. The room was large, mostly open to the bedroom, and perfectly cooled to a temperature he was normally comfortable with but something was making him feel warm. His skin felt almost tight and all he wanted was to sleep for a few days. It wasn't like his job allowed a break though.

The two opiates went down easy as he swallowed them dry and tossed his shirt aside but as he closed the mirror in front of him something caught his eye. A shadow.

“Who the fuck are you?” He snapped, all his instincts going on high alert as he turned to scan the darkened room. His vision was sharp but his sense of smell was almost non-existent. It was normally fine not to rely on that, all his other senses were better than most, but not in moments like that. He should have known automatically his home was invaded but he wouldn't act like a pussy about it. The only problem was… he couldn't see anything but the metallic sculptures positioned around his bedroom. “If you know what's good for you you'll fuck off. Do you even know who's home you're in?”

A soft chuckle sounded from somewhere. It was dripping with contempt and a bit wild. It sent a shiver down his spine. “Really? Ya going wiv tha’? ‘Do you know who I am?’ You all jus’ copies of the same arse, yeah?”

Kells furrowed his brows at the voice. Whoever was intruding in his home was… British? He didn't remember making enemies across the pond but he supposed anything could happen. “I promise you kid, I'm not like anything you've seen before. But you're welcome to find out the hard way.” He really just wanted to get it over with, this douche was going to make his night so much longer. With all the messy clean up and disposal he'd never get to bed at a good hour. It was already almost midnight. “Before I have to kill you can I ask who the hell sent you? I need to know who to ship your body to.”

There was that laugh again. “Ain't like tha’. I mean yeah someone ‘ired me but don't worry Alpha- it weren't another boss. You can die knowing you was the biggest bad around-” The voice went quiet before the wet towel he'd left on the floor earlier that day was thrown at Colson's face. He couldn't help the knee jerk reaction to catch it but the moment he did someone was grabbing his wrist hard and throwing him across the room. His Cali King bed broke his fall but it still knocked the wind out of him. Something was throwing him off his game. “Besides me.” The voice laughed maniacally but it was far too close for comfort. “If it ‘elps, me names Dom. But I don't fink it'll make ‘is easier.”

Kells tried to push himself up and reach for a gun he had hidden under his bed at the same moment but something sliced through the top few layers of the skin on his arm and he hissed. It wasn't deep but it stung like a motherfucker. “Not a fair fight asshole.” He cursed, trying to climb over the bed but the stranger- Dom, jumped on his back and rode him flat to the mattress.

Dominic was primed to play with his prey though the famed Machine Gun wasn't as fun so far as he'd hoped. He'd planned to draw out his game but his toy wasn't as badass as he was said to be. They never were. He pressed himself close, his knife in hand and ready to slip like butter through the man's throat but the moment Dom got a whiff of the bastard he froze. Everything froze. What. The. Fuck?

Kells was shocked when the intruder stilled, he could see a glint of light close to his eye and he knew there was a blade near enough to kill him. He knew he could try for his gun or attempt to grab the knife but he couldn't do both. Shit. He turned his head quickly and struck, sinking his fangs into his attacker's wrist but Dom didn't drop his weapon and he didn't react like a normal human would. He barely even moved. Who was this ass?

Normally Dom would see the moment as a comedy of errors. They weren't moving, neither was exactly fighting, and his mark was still biting his wrist like an overeager puppy. It was almost cute honestly but he couldn't seem to make his head work. “You smell like a bloody bakery.” He mumbled, pressing his face against the man's neck. His stomach dropped and his blood rushed harder through his veins.

Kells rolled his eyes as he felt hot breath against his neck but the hairs there stood up straight and prickled. It had to just be the cologne on his skin. No one could tell. No one. He could feel the fucker’s blood sliding down his tongue and he knew he was swallowing too much of it, only a little was actually drooling around his mouth like a bad porn star. He just had to hope his next round of STI testing came back clean. No matter what he couldn't let go. The blade was too close.

Dom almost purred. The scent of the man under him was cloying and heavy on his tongue like a piece of decadent candy but his pulse was racing. He couldn't deny the truth he could smell and he couldn't kill the guy. “Why you listed as an Alpha Mr. Gun?” He growled out, his rage starting to boil at the surface and fight whatever else he was feeling with the scent all over him. The half naked bloke mumbled something, his fangs tearing deeper into his skin but he couldn't make it out. He thought it might have been ‘because I am one' but he could taste the lie. Dom didn't kill omegas. Fuck.

A rough hand tangled in Colson's blonde hair and those strong fingers gripped tight before yanking his head at an unnatural angle. He wouldn't let go but he did look. His attacker seemed young. Soft. Crazy. “Why in fuck would you fake being an Alpha?” The intruder snapped, his eyes shining somewhere between jade and… red?

Colson’s eyes went wide before narrowing. There was something about the guy that screamed he was out of the woods. He knew he wasn't exactly safe but the knife was trembling next to his face and the heart beat under his tongue was hammering fast. He took a chance and let go slowly, surprised when the… Alpha? dropped his bleeding arm. The grip on his hair didn't lessen but still. Progress. He didn't know why he wasn't taking the chance to flip them and give the guy a few new holes but what he wanted most in life at that moment was sleep and there was a small chance they could get out of their mess without actually making one.

“Everyone knows I'm a fucking Alpha.” His tone was flat and almost growling but he didn't move to fight.

Red eyes narrowed to slits. “But you ain't one. You're an omega. I don't kill omegas.” Kells couldn't help but notice the strain in Dom's voice like his whole world view was askew. That could be helpful.

“Look who's talking.” He huffed simply and the grip in his hair tightened. “You're an Alpha about to kill a-” His voice broke off. Even to save his life he couldn't say it. For all anyone knew he was an Alpha. That would never change. Shit- even if the stranger didn't try for him again he couldn't leave him alive. Not with this information. “That's a fuck ton of Alpha aggression for someone who hates them.” He almost teased but Dom seemed lost in thought. Fucking psycho. The guy might actually bleed to death on top of him. But when Colson took a chance and looked down at the stranger’s wrist it was already healing. How the hell?

“Alphas are the bloody worst.” The attacker muttered and his voice was full of emotion Kells didn't understand. Alphas could be shitty for sure but it was far fucking better than being an o-... Whatever he was before he stopped it short with blockers. He couldn't sit there and worry about the self hating dickhead keeping him pinned down, he had to find a way to fight him off and end him for good. He didn't care how Dom knew what he was, no one could know. No one.

The body under Dom shifted, the long limbs going limp for a moment and while other hunters might think their prey was giving up, he wasn't so daft. The blade slipped from his hold as he rushed to move and grab the omega’s wrists but he was too slick with blood. His hand didn't close tight or fast enough and the lithe colorful body fully turned until they were cloth covered cock to cloth covered cock. Awkward. What made it all worse was the blood rushing through Dom started quickly moving south. “Fuck.”

Colson felt messy with blood and annoyed at the asshole above him. He knew he was worthy to kill for fucks sake. He was the boss of a pretty large crime syndicate- his designation didn't make him any less dangerous. Who was this douchebag to say he wasn't a danger?

A pillow slapped Dom hard against the side of his face but he held his ground and position above his prey. But he couldn't be prey. Dom wasn't like those other Alphas, he didn't hurt omegas. Ever. “Stop being a brat! Oi! No bloody pillow fights! Mob boss me arse!”

“Who the fuck even are you?” Kells growled, trying to move out from under his attacker and hit him at the same time. He was sure to anyone else this would look like a skit out of some comedy show but technically he was fighting for his life. Right?

Dom grumbled, the man under him was all long limbs and warm smells and too wriggly to get a good grip. He didn't know whether to tell the truth but he'd already offered his name. Which honestly on principle was strange enough. Why hadn't he given his nom de plume?

Kells scoffed when the Alpha ripped the pillow from his hand and tossed it away before he sat back on his lap and stared down at him. When he realized the fight was mostly over he took a deep breath and was shocked that he could actually scent something. It was barely there but sharp and sensual. It felt almost overwhelming to his senses after going so long without scenting anything. Was that… was that Dom?

When the omega started to calm Dom sighed. He could feel his body reacting to the fight and the man but he was trying to ignore it. He couldn't. He never had. He refused. No matter how perfect the mark smelled and looked and fit under him. “Dude. Are you fucking serious?!” Those blue eyes went sharp with a hint of gold and Dom’s stomach flipped. Now that was a beautiful sight. “You have a hate-on for Alphas but you're getting fucking turned on in the middle of a fight? Get the fuck out!”

If Dom could feel shame he might have in that moment but as it was he couldn't feel much but excitement. His hunt was over, he'd have to decline the job, but he may have found something even better than prey.

Before Colson could take a breath or react in any way the Alpha was leaning down and licking a wet stripe over his cheek. He meant to growl or snap or scoff, he really did, but whatever noise that escaped him certainly wasn't that. Without meaning to, he turned his face as Dom tilted his and their lips met in a harsh kiss. There was a litany of ‘what the fuck’ circling his mind but he couldn't seem to stop himself. Instincts he never had were bubbling up inside him. He should be biting Dom, he should be doing literally anything to fight him off but no. His muscles wanted to relax and he was warm and tingling somewhere he never had before. He knew later he'd feel sick.

Just as quickly as it started it was over and the weight was gone from Colson's body. A gasp left his lips as he blinked fast and searched the darkened room. Dom was standing at the door and watching him as he pushed himself up on trembling elbows. What the hell was happening? “You should stop ‘em bloody pills. You ruining ya’self.” The killer's tone was soft. Almost sweet and Kells wanted to shoot him all over again. Did he mean the pain killers? The heat blockers? It didn't matter. He wasn't listening anyway. “I wanna be able to smell you proper.”

Dominic swatted away the pillow that was thrown at his face. He knew he shouldn't have said anything but it was honest. He lingered at the entrance, watching the omega as Kells watched him and with his blood drenched finger he traced something on the wall just outside the bedroom door where the other couldn't see. The Machine Gun wasn't coming for him but just laying there like an offering. One Dom couldn't take. “I fink I'll keep an eye on you.”

That… sounded like both a threat and a promise to Colson but he didn't say anything back. He couldn't. His heart beat faster at the words and his stomach twisted in knots. He felt hot all over but he swore it was from the fight. Not anything else. Certainly not from the Alpha smirking at him like he knew.

With one last longing glance at the pretty omega on the bed Dom forced himself to step back fast and close the door.

Kells heard the intruder's running footsteps, the little bag strapped to Dom's chest jingling until he reached the stairs but he couldn't move from his spot on the bed. As soon as the door closed he could see what the man had been writing in crimson and for a moment he couldn't breathe or move. There wasn't much but in bright red were two initials. YB. The first Alpha his body ever reacted to- not that he would ever admit it- was Yungblud. A fucking serial killer. One with the highest Alpha kill count America had seen in decades. “Fuck my life.” Kells groaned as he fell back against the bed and covered his face with the closest pillow. That smelled like Dom. “Shit.”

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤 if anyone else wants tagged let me know.

Who knows if I'll be able to keep up with this but I promise to try. I've been desperately needing to keep my mind busy lately and @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker has been helping so much with keeping me creative and helping me come up with this (and other) ideas. I have a lot of it mapped out and I'm hoping to get more out soon but I won't give a schedule or I'll get overwhelmed. Heh. I really hope you all like it, it's a new idea for me. Let me know what you think 💣🖤

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nicolesainz · 1 year

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Message In A Bottle (BC 21)

Ben Chilwell x reader

Warnings: fluff, in its extreme version

Summary: She’s feeling like a face in the crowd. But she’s reaching for him, terrified

“If he scores, you go down an kiss him!” Mason told me watching his team play against Arsenal at their home Stadium.

“No way! Can’t do that” I shook my head disapprovingly to his request or more appropriately, demand.

“But why? It will be the perfect moment. It’s now or never” he’s nudging me playfully

“Don’t do this to me Mase. You know I’m too scared. Plus, what if he gets mad and pushes me away in front of a thousand people?”

"Have I ever let you down?" the Chelsea midfielder raised his eyebrows at me

Its true. Whatever Mason says, happens. But what if this time things changed? What if Ben prefers only my friendship, rather than something more. I would hate myself if our relationship and what we've built all those years broke down, because of my pure stupidity.

"It's different this time. Things don't always go as planned. If I do it and then Ben stops talking to me, it will be my final straw. And I will blame you forever."

"You won't blame me, because nothing bad will happen. Plus, you love me too much to hate me, Y/N. I need you to trust me one last time."

I have always looked up to Ben. I don't often believe that the 'perfect people' exist, but when it comes to him, I fully support that. In all my living years, I have never met a more special man and human besides Chilly.

Since we were little kids, my heart would flutter, every time I was around his presence. I enjoyed being surrounded by him and get to spend time. Even if it was a few minutes.Sadly, during high school I kept some distance. Due to his relationships and football career starting, I didn't want to be a burden. He knew I always rooted for him quietly and was his biggest supporter.

I respected his partners and time away from me, even if that hurt me deeply. Moving on was extremely difficult, but my heart kept saying that I needed to stay. Although what if this time never arrived? What if I kept on loving him until my very last breath?

"You aren't there to see the look on his face when you can't make it to the games. You don't see how happy he is, preparing new celebrations, in case of possible goals, wanting to be dedicated to you?" Mason looks me deeply in the eyes, and I know that the words coming out of his mouth are more than honest.

"They don't mean anything more than pure friendly love. I do believe what you're saying Mase, but I think you've misinterpreted the signs."

"I will let you see for yourself. Just have faith in my words."

Second half is almost done. Ben has assisted in the two goals the blues have scored. It's currently 2-2 and Stamford Bridge is handing by a thin thread. They all crave a final goal against the gunners.

My eyes fall on the clock which says 89. Only one more minute. All are looking between the ball, the clock and the head Chelsea coach. This win is a necessity now.

The ball shockingly falls once more to Ben's feet, immediately running towards the Arsenal net, whilst all the players are chanting him. Nothing is an obstacle. A small scream escapes his mouth as the ball touches the back of the net, escaping Ramsdale's embrace.

"AND THE THREE POINTS ARE AWARED TO THE BLUES OF LONDON, WITH CHILWELL HANDING THE CROWN! WHAT A THRILLING GOAL" the commentators scream out of happiness!

Me and Mason get up to hug each other, still smiling at all the players on the pitch. Mount turns my head to Ben's direction, only to witness my favourite person, looking at me, celebrating by shaping the letter of my first name with his fingers.

I have never felt my smile growing bigger than this. It feels very surreal. What if Mason was right? What if Ben felt the same way towards me too?

"Sophia is going to Kai. I think this is your cue to go to someone that may be waiting for you" Mason winks at me, eyeing at his fellow teammate.

I take a deep breath and run down to the pitch behind Sophia. She was the second person who encouraged me to go and express my feelings to Ben. Before stoping at Kai's direction she turns around and hugs me tightly.

"Everything will be more than great honey! I believe in you! Both of you"

I give her a soft smile and repay the hug. I wave at Kai and give him a thumbs up, as he was also one of today's scorers. He nods playfully as he mouth at me

"He is waiting for you"

Nervousness increases and my legs are trembling. I want to run away but at the same time I wanna run towards Ben. My heart takes over and so I run at the direction of my best friend, whose arms are wide open, waiting for me to jump into him.

I climb on his body and wrap myself around him. This hug feels homely and heartwarming. Ben never misses to make me happy. The happiest woman on earth. I wouldn't change his embrace for anything in the world. Nothing and no one can ever change how I feel about Ben. Like I said, he is the perfect man.

"My favourite goalscorer back on the sheet! I am immensely proud of you" I whisper in his ear.

My legs are still around his wait. He refuses to let me go. And I don't want him to either.

"It means the world to me that you came and saw this goal. Because it's for you" his sparkly green eyes are smiling at me, as his lips are too.

"Ben" is all I manage to say before words stop coming out of my mouth. I can hear my heart thumping so loud, it would surely come out of my chest any time soon.

I waste little time and pull his lower my face closer to his, connecting our lips into a kiss, in which I express every single feeling I have towards Ben. Love, adoration, admiration.

He seems taken aback at first but doesn't shy out and kisses me back, without tearing us apart a single second. I will say that I was surprised but surely extremely thankful.

"I think this kiss was a greater gift than my goal. Another dream that came true today"

I smile flatly, caressing his reddened cheeks and slightly sweaty messy hair. No matter how Ben looked or was, I only cared about the man which was hiding inside him. The kid I grew up with and fell for.

"I love you to the moon and back and to Saturn and Venus and the whole galaxy." the words escaping his lips were few I was dying to hear my entire life. And it was like I died and came back to life.

"You just granted my biggest Benjamin. I love you for infinity. Whether you score goals or not. Thank you"

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell one shot #ben chilwell fluff #ben chilwell fanfic #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell x y/n #chelsea

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tarisilmarwen · 10 months

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Rebels Rewatch: “Rebel Resolve”

Boy, say that ten times fast.

Some ominous rolling piano notes that accompany the chicken walker, sounding just as lumbering and mechanical.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: That one extra squashing himself flat against the crates to give the troopers and walker some room.

Cymbals crash on cue with our pan up to Sabine and Zeb. And some heroic trombones pipe in the moment Zeb and Ezra make their move.

He’s a little shit and I love him.

The downbeats stagger along with the walker legs. This cue is tight-wound and frenzied sounding, no recognizable themes but still a dynamic, exciting track for the scene.

Chopper’s vocalizations are so pronounced you can almost make out words here.

This is not the first stolen Imperial vehicle we will see them in the cockpit of lol.

Ezra very insistent that Kanan’s alive. Of course, he can probably sense it. High canon still hasn’t really confirmed that Force Bonds are a thing (outside of the dumbass dyad thing but we’re not counting that) but Ezra’s agitation this episode and his uncanny “just a feeling” type knowledge that Kanan’s alive has all the earmarks of it.

Oh hey speaking of!

Kanan seems juuuuuuuust slightly out of it, safe to say he’s probably had truth serums pumped into him in preparation for a mind probe.

Not only no fanfare but a deep bellowing bass note, oh fun.

Sabine has decided to take up the back gunner’s seat and this whole sequence of the three of them sniping at each other is a bit darkly hilarious.

“Excuse me I’m the rear cannon thank you very much!”

The Alliance variation of the Force Theme comes in as Hera swoops down and let’s just appreciate the skill it must take to keep the Phantom both steady and ahead of an advancing walker.

I unabashedly love that Chopper stayed behind still trying to get information that would help them find Kanan and how sorely he misses the man and how he really steps up this episode to be useful. The orange tin can murderhobo does care.

Oh boy, do I get to talk about Ahsoka ordering Hera not to rescue Kanan now?

You know it’s really kind of amazing that this moment of all moments did not garner many bad faith rancid takes.

Ahsoka gets a weird amount of leniency from fandom on this, frankly.

I mean arguably Ahsoka is basically choosing to let Kanan get tortured and killed or turned, in order to keep the wider Rebellion quiet and out of sight. That plays a bit into the conflict in later seasons and even Rogue One, and the Alliance’s eternal debate about when to take direct action and when to wait and be cautious and shore up. It’s a bit interesting that both the Spectres and Rogue One taking the risk and initiative essentially forces the Alliance’s hand, tipping them into more open conflict with the Empire.

The Rebel Alliance might tell you off for being stupid but at the end of the day it will have your back.

So yes, in that sense it was right for Hera et al to disobey orders and go after Kanan anyway.

...But Ahsoka also kind of has a point. Hera was risking getting herself and her whole team captured or killed and that could have been disastrous for secrecy reasons and a devastating blow to morale for the people who’d heard the message, squashing any thoughts of rebellion inside them before they could fully form. Because you know Tarkin would advocate to make an example of them, he even said as much.

I want to point out the emphasis Ahsoka puts on Ezra here. It may have been Kanan’s idea to send out a transmission, but it was Ezra on the broadcast, Ezra’s message and words that rang out across the galaxy, and so it’s Ezra’s safety that’s paramount.

Stop me before I go into sobbing meta about Ezra as the Hope Bringer and Ezra as a narrative Chosen One (but not THE Chosen One), he is the bridge between peoples, he is the voice of freedom, his power of connection is the key to liberating his people, if Ezra is caught that hope will die.

*blubbering*

See fandom, this is what we call a “protagonist”, as in their actions drive the plot and the narrative shapes itself around them, y’all seem to forget that towards the latter half of things.

Anyway have a cap of Hera being emotionally devastated and sad by the hard call she has to make now.

I notice at least six Star Destroyers shown in orbit above Lothal here.

Ahhh there’s the strings of the Force Theme prelude and more of Ezra just knowing that Kanan’s alive, tell me it’s not their Force Bond, Dave, I dare you.

If Hera sounds stilted and rehearsed here it’s because this is the Rebel Leader script coming out. These are the kind of lines she practices and repeats over and over inside her head to keep herself on-mission, remind herself of The Cause and what it costs to achieve.

Metatextually I can’t quite figure out if Ezra’s actions this episode are supposed to be any kind of endorsement or indictment or commentary on “attachment”, or rather what fanon osmosis thinks attachment is, as mentioned the rescue is portrayed as the narratively correct option aside from some token scolding about how reckless and dangerous it was, and I’ve already commented on Ezra’s clinginess when it comes to Kanan and his potentially problematic fear of loss.

The juxtaposition of the Ghost crew’s passionate actions against the clinically objective (somewhat cold-sounding) position that Ahsoka/The Rebellion hold, and how the Spectres are narratively validated, seems a bit deliberate despite that A) that’s just How War Be sometimes, which the show DOES know, and B) Ahsoka’s usually not allowed to be wrong.

I could make the argument that this is still early on in Ezra’s character development, and specifically in the back half of Season Four the show leans into the lesson of “don’t burn down the galaxy simply to prevent yourself from losing things, accept the loss and let go” for the express purpose of forcing Ezra to have to grow past the stubborn impatience, rashness, and cock-surety he displays here but I don’t think I could say with confidence that I have creator-backed intention on that end.

Filoni-led projects, for the most part, align about 85% with George Lucas’s own commentary and intentions when it comes to How The Force Works 101 (Spoiler Alert: It’s Space Buddhism), it’s that 15% of “steeped just a little too long in the rancid fanon soup” that you have to watch out for.

So this whole arc could maybe be a deliberate Played Straight/Ultimately Subverted comment on being willing to sacrifice for the greater good (and various other deep-seated Discourses™ in Star Wars fandom).

Orrrrrrrr this could be something I’m way overthinking and there wasn’t any kind of intended wider takeaway at all.

I rambled a bit there, I know, but basically my point is that even though Ezra’s right, so was Ahsoka, this could have gone Very Very Badly.

They’re lucky the Force loves them so much.

Moving on.

This scene here with Ezra and Chopper is adorable. It’s the first (but not the last) time Ezra would conspire with Chopper on a secret plan, which speaks to the depths of trust he’s managed to build with the droid.

How dare you inflict more pretty shots on me, show.

Frick, the waver in Hera’s voice right here always gets to me.

She kept the secrets from Kanan too, out of obvious necessity, and he trusted her, he agreed with her, and now he’s probably suffering for the things he doesn’t know and ghgkshkhkhkh stab me and it would hurt less there’s so much guilt and anguish in Hera right now.

Interesting to note, Sabine has already been informed of and trusted with the secret plan, and agreed to it. Zeb wasn’t told at all, just kind of roped into it once the kids ganged up on him.

And this is why he does not count as adult supervision lol.

Look at my little chaos gremlins. <3

Chopper’s diversion doesn’t last very long, Hera’s already suspicious.

Oh good, back with Kanan and the torture squad! Some ominous bassoons accompany Grand as he enters here. We forgo the dramatic chorals of his theme for very steady low bass notes just droning on under the dialogue. The chorals don’t return until mid mind probe when Grand exerting his power, and even then it’s fainter and quieter than usual.

Tarkin still doubting that Kanan’s really a Jedi, I guess it’s Kanan’s relative youth that’s throwing him maybe?

“You will tell me where to find your Rebel friends.”

“No... Ezra... Not him. Not. Him.“

<33333333333333

One of my absolute favorite Papa Wolf Kanan moments, Grand starts digging for information in Kanan’s head and his very first thought is to protect his padawan. (Again with the emphasis on Ezra’s importance, narratively overall and personally to Kanan.)

Kanan tanks the Force torture so Grand resorts to classic more mundane methods, his theme coming in stronger as the electricity comes on.

This scene is kind of a microcosm of what I was talking about earlier. Ezra is taking a huge risk by revealing that he and Kanan are Jedi, heck, by talking to Vizago in the first place. Does it work out? Yes. But it’s the kind of gamble you can’t always risk in a wartime scenario, no matter what personal feelings are involved.

Even secrecy-hating Sabine cautions Ezra against spilling the truth here.

That aside, this moment when Ezra floats the crate? Epic. The hesitant flute playing the Force theme right before Ezra makes his declaration, how it comes back stronger with a glistening sound effect and the familiar Force ring, Vizago’s dumbstruck look...

You’re a dumbass but I’m proud of you kiddo. <3

Sabine sharing my worry about Ezra going with Vizago alone here. Sure we know Vizago cashes in the favor for something petty now, but this caused more than a bit of apprehension in all of us the first time around, trust me.

The ominous music didn’t help.

Ezra having no idea what to do to seal the deal is adorkable and Vizago’s offended bewilderment is hilarious.

Mama no happy.

Hera scolding Ezra here is pretty similar to how furious she gets in “Steps Into Shadow” and she gives the same reasons for it too: You put yourself in danger and the rest of us/the wider Rebellion at risk, you were reckless, and you disobeyed direct orders.

The difference between the two situations being that the plan here pulled off without a hitch (they might not have even needed the Rebel reinforcements if Chopper had stayed put instead of going to fetch them) whereas in “Steps Into Shadow” things went sour pretty much from the get-go, necessitating Hera to mobilize and risk the fleet to pull Ezra's ass out of it. (Again, the Rebellion will always begrudgingly come to help you.)

Maybe the major narrative difference is that here they could be argued to be trusting in the Force and in “Steps Into Shadow” Ezra was arrogantly relying on his own power and skill, plus the Dark Side, and that’s what caused disaster in one instance but not the other?

I dunno, like I said I think I’m getting a little bit too into my own head here. Apologies if that’s making this recap less fun.

(I at least think there’s a good case to be made that Hera could have easily been persuaded to change her mind without Ezra going off to consult Vizago since she relents pretty quickly here.)

Have I mentioned how pretty this show is yet?

Chopper’s little nod when Ezra says, “For Kanan.” awww.

Tarkin is finally starting to admit that Kanan seems very Jedi-like. And thus recommends transferring him to another torture location.

Meanwhile Grand seems weirdly baffled and perturbed that Kanan doesn’t actually know anything about the wider Rebellion and ow I just hurt myself stumbling over “Jedi cannot help what they are. Their compassion leaves a trail.” Kenobi show feelings, because of course Grand would assume that Kanan is deeply involved in the Rebellion because that’s what Jedi DO.

They get involved.

Lol this poor droid just straight up faints at the sight of Zeb.

Love how the troopers don’t question the missing sentries because they literally don’t care, they’re running late. That one guy sounds absolutely Done.

Please enjoy how beautiful Lothal was pre-crispening.

This is a new cue and I think a unique one, not used anywhere else in the show; the percussion stands out most to me in it, I’m hearing a lot of cymbals and a strong drum rhythm.

Chopper just brazenly starts copying data while the Imperials are looking on his memory drives, the balls on this droid.

Zeb’s maniacal grin when Ezra tells him he should watch the courier droid “Because you’re intimidating.” lol.

Oh yeah, nope, all those Stormtroopers that got sucked out the airlock with Chopper? They dead.

This is an excellently staged sequence.

Chopper adds another droid to his body count, lol. (Though tie-in material shows that this one winds up okay, runs out of power for a bit in that field but gets picked up by some farmers later.)

Seriously, show. These clouds have such a soft painterly feel and texture.

Hera holding Ezra’s hands here, awwwwwwww.

AND MUSTAFAR NAME DROP. Fandom collectively “Uh-oh”ed at that part and this was before Rogue One revealed that Vader has his personal Minecraft Lava Castle Of Bullshit And Sadness down there. Also before we learned the Inquisitors operate out of Nur in the same system.

So you know, it’s been a rolling ball of Fridge Horror since then.

Though softer, the lighting almost calls up the fires of Mustafar already, oranges and yellows, the brightest spot straight ahead as if to symbolize how they’re about to go into the inferno.

Another TO BE CONTINUED title card and yes, I was in fact close to gnawing my arm off the first time through lol.

Whew! Didn’t think I would have much to say about this episode.

And in fairness--aside from my attempts to mentally reconcile Hera’s “It’s okay to disobey orders when I do it/when it’s something that leads to what I want.” versus her reaming Ezra in Season Three even though he basically did the same thing both now and then, and whether or not there’s any kind of larger commentary on the themes and messages of Star Wars at play (probably not but a girl can hope)--I don’t think I had that much of substance to comment on.

This episode is just good. You get lost in enjoying it.

We’ll wrap up Season One tomorrow with the finale.

#star wars #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #rebels rewatch #liveblog #i get into my own head a bit on this one sorry #meta rambling #space dad and his precious pumpkin child

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apas-95 · 10 months

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was playing war thunder. killed two enemy vehicles without taking a hit, was waiting on a third to try to push me. i mark them on the map. friendly tank rolls up alongside, I'm thinking it's a good thing since they might push ahead more recklessly and bait the enemy out of position. they stop and turn to me. realising they might, having seen the enemy mark on the map and my tank here, have misidentified me, i go to identify myself with a quick radio message - but they shoot me first. they start lining up a second shot on me, but before they fire, they explode. shit, I'm thinking, that enemy tank must have pushed, and my gunner's dead. nope, they were shot by another teammate. i sit there quietly and repair, let the enemy think the explosion was me, and kill them when they try to flank around. i head off to the capture point, receive some enemy fire while crossing open terrain but without it so much as scratching the paint, so i continue on. i get to the point and hunker down to capture it, and notice a tank across the way. i send a radio marker while i try to identify it, and immediately explode. it was a friendly tank destroyer. the only damage i took that match was from allies.

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tgrailwar-zero · 9 months

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Short Rest - Fugue Laboratory (Results)

The short rest was successful.

CONSTANTINE has 11/11 health, and 3/5 mana. KUKULKAN has 7/7 health, and 11/13 mana.

You thought you heard some sounds outside… but nothing came from it. It seems like you remained safe in the lab.

Items Found: heal(32); and heal(16); as well as a 'Zone Map'.

Looking at the map, it seemed as if the direct areas were the Crimson Citadel, Nameless City, and Transient Megalopolis.

Short Rest Discussion:

With the time spent, CONSTANTINE caught you and KUKULKAN up on everything that happened. Despite it seeming like mere moments between your 'death' and 'return'- it had been about a week… so a lot had changed regarding the climate of the war from a social standpoint- as far as casualties went, it was in a bit of a standstill.

LANCER had been killed by AVENGER and FOREIGNER, and GUNNER had been systematically taking out SABER's proxies, rendering the large number of 12 to simply 4: FURIOSO, BOUCLIER, HISTORIA, and LUNE. Furthermore, It seems as if what CONDUCTOR told you wasn't a total lie. While the Solar Cell Holy Grail War was participated in teams, the winning team would become the 'Sovereign Protectors' of the Solar Cell in place of the Lair Servants. They would be granted power and authority under the Administrator, and be free to do as they pleased, with their life's wishes granted to them. However, the less members remaining on a team, the more power would be granted to the survivors- so the particularly devious would try to strategize and win the war while systematically lessening their own numbers. That didn't mean everyone was going for that strategy, however. Some Servants were perfectly fine with sharing the responsibility and having their own personal wishes granted as well- FOREIGNER, for example, seemed like she ended up in that camp. In addition, the particularly brave could challenge the Lair Servants in mortal combat, gathering the Trigger Keys in order to be granted further power by the Administrator and the Architect.

Regarding the Red Faction, SABER wished to unite both the Red and Blue Factions under his own banner, creating total unity under him as Emperor.

However, CASTER wished for the Grail War to proceed as normal, causing a rift within the Red Faction. SABER, his proxies, and LANCER were on one side, while CASTER and ASSASSIN were on the other. ARCHER and BERSERKER went on their own, still fighting in the war, but not fully allied to one side or another. RIDER could also be considered a 'neutral party', now that he was your Servant again.

CONSTANTINE, having temporarily contracted with SABER in order to not fade away, felt indebted to him- and was told by CASTER that she was going to convince ARCHER and BERSERKER to join her before killing SABER and allowing the War to progress as intended. He didn't know when it would occur, but if he was out for several days, he assumed that it would be soon before CASTER knocked down the doors to the Crimson Citadel and got rid of SABER.

As CONSTANTINE spoke, there was suddenly a message triggered in the laboratory. A man, projected through holographic light, appeared in the center of the room.

"Enemies of the Solar Cell." "For both of our sakes, I will keep this brief. I am the Lord of the Nameless City. Honorifics aside, however, you can consider me a 'Lair Servant'." "I am assuming that doctor Asclepius has been killed, and that me and my allies are next. With that in mind, while battle is inevitable, victors are decided ultimately by their knowledge. Knowledge that I possess." "Which leads me to my point. Come to the Nameless City, reach the center tower, and ask for the 'Lady of the Nameless City'. She will act as my envoy for our parley, as if I met you in person, we would almost certainly come to blows." "I hope you choose reason."

Without much fanfare, the message ended, leaving you, CONSTANTINE, and KUKULKAN.

"…Well, that puts both the Nameless City and the Crimson Citadel on our map. That, or we could just ignore both and head south to the Megalopolis."

KUKULKAN added. CONSTANTINE folded his arms, nodding.

"…Let's take some time to think about it, before making any decisions. The Crimson Citadel is certainly risky, but Saber will be a worthwhile ally. The Nameless City could be a trap, but also has the chance of having knowledge. And the Megalopolis… well, it has established itself as a bit of a neutral zone. The Lair Servant ruling there isn't exactly fond of conflict- both from the War, or from us, I'd assume... but it is a relatively major commercial center if we want to gather resources. We just need to make sure we keep our heads down. It seems like the only people who know for sure what the 'Interlopers' look like are the Lair Servants and potentially Saber."

That seemed... about right. There wasn't much time to tell whether PRETENDER recognized you or not before you started calling his name and telling him everything.

#thgw rest results #main post #thgw: chapter 4 #thgw story

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elmaestrostan · 4 months

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In the refurbished gym at Aston Villa’s training ground, players are regularly put through their paces, spend time building up their strength and flexibility and develop the team bond that is such a key part of their incredible current form.

Another regular sight in the gym has been head coach Unai Emery putting in the miles on the treadmill. But unlike most people, who listen to music or a podcast while working out, the man behind one of the biggest turnarounds in recent Premier League history uses the time to watch recordings of their upcoming opponents’ games.

He’s looking for patterns, for holes, for weaknesses for Villa to exploit.

Paywall jump under the ✂️🫡

Emery then relays his findings and key messages to the players in lengthy video analysis sessions, which have been known to run up to an hour and fifteen minutes.

Focusing on and improving the small details has been the underlying theme of the 13 months since Emery’s appointment, with Villa now a club transformed. Beating champions Manchester City and their title rivals Arsenal back-to-back in the space of four days this week is a period that rubber-stamps their progress.

This is how Villa turned their form and fortunes around, including how:

Emery warned players to never make the same mistakes after previous Arsenal defeat

He compiled a dossier on each player before joining, calling on his backroom staff to put together clips

Players noted a transformation between training under previous boss Steven Gerrard and Emery

The squad were pushed through pain barriers in pre-season

A ‘best-in-class’ mentality has emerged throughout the club

Co-owner Nassef Sawiris was recently pitchside and clapped every player off the pitch

Emery takes training ground staff out for meals

Villa’s overall infrastructure has been improved.

Seconds away from becoming the only manager in Villa’s 149-year history to win 15 successive home league games, Emery raised both hands in the air and outwards, cranking the crowd’s volume even higher.

It was apt that Villa crossed into unprecedented territory against Arsenal. Ten months ago, the Gunners were the previous Premier League visitors to leave the stadium with three points.

Since then, West Midlands walls have been fortified. The successive 1-0 victories inside four days over the sides to finish first (City) and second (Arsenal) in the 2022-23 Premier League and are likely to contest the title again this season — described as “the most difficult week” by Emery — were taxing, but ultimately ended in glory.

Fortress Villa Park has proven the symbol of the club’s remarkable resurgence, establishing them as one of the Premier League’s best and most effectively-run football clubs.

The improvement from the final days of predecessor Gerrard — where only goal difference kept them out of the top flight’s relegation places — is as drastic as it is exceptional, with Villa now firmly in the hunt for a Champions League spot next season and perhaps even more, with Pep Guardiola endorsing their title credentials only last week.

Emery regarded February’s 4-2 home defeat against Arsenal as a turning point. Irrespective of what he said publicly, that showdown with his old club was one he was desperate to win. So he was consequently infuriated with his side’s manner of collapse after the scores were level until the final minutes. Post-match and across several meetings, he told his players, in no uncertain terms, that such errors could not be repeated.

Emery remarked that they had kicked the ball long on too many occasions, with his defensive players continuing to clear to safety, as opposed to retaining possession and stamping their authority on the game. He preached that seizing control would lead to the concession of fewer goals. Even after the wins against City and Arsenal this week, Emery recalled that painful loss to the latter, unprompted, in his press conferences.

“The players are more united with each other, this is their primary strength,” says one source close to the dressing room who, like others in this piece, spoke on the condition of anonymity to protect relationships.

That match almost 10 months ago was the last time Villa lost at home, and marked the start of a shift in mentality. Their performance against City on Wednesday was one for the ages and underlined just how far many of those same players who faced Arsenal in February have come in terms of composure, organisation and general quality.

Final preparations for City’s visit had been different to the usual routines.

Emery wanted his players to train on the morning of the game, keen to drill extra detail. The session he conducted was low-intensity, chiefly working on various patterns of play and team shape, ensuring the starting XI knew how to exploit the areas Emery’s analysis had told him City were vulnerable in.

A fluid, spinning midfield four overloaded City in central areas and provided additional passing lanes when playing out from the back. This proved essential in victory and highlighted the forensic lengths Emery and his coaching staff go to.

Before his official switch from La Liga side Villarreal late last October, Emery compiled detailed dossiers of each player from his home in Spain. He called on the backroom staff who would be joining him in England to put together footage of previous games and clips of individual players. He swiftly recognised the blindspots in the team he was inheriting from Gerrard, with defence a particular issue — Tyrone Mings, Ezri Konsa and Matty Cash were all concerns.

Elsewhere, Emery knew his methodology would enable specific plans for his attackers, but felt more firepower was needed. Contrary to reports regarding Moussa Diaby being his top target, Athletic Bilbao winger Nico Williams was the player Emery initially wanted.

“With Gerrard, training was just training,” says a source close to a Villa player. “But Emery is so detailed, as he was at Arsenal. He coached them (the players) and continues to coach them in every facet of football every single day, and regularly reinforces good habits on the training ground — until the point where it starts working on the pitch. The players then believe in his methods and start doing exactly what he’s asking them to do every game — confidence and belief then kick in — and this is the result.”

This included the development of first-choice centre-backs Mings and Konsa. Emery wanted both to become better on the ball and protect their zones defensively. Through detailed coaching in what Emery expected from the pair in their parts of the pitch, greater clarity and confidence have been provided.

Players noted an immediate contrast in training between Gerrard and Emery, with the content of sessions transformed overnight. It tied in with the notion that there was a completely different level of leadership between the two coaches — Emery knew exactly what he wanted, while Gerrard, in comparison, was seen to be looking for a “moment of magic” from an individual player.

Gerrard sat, a broken man, alongside assistant Gary McAllister towards the end of a 3-0 defeat away to Fulham in October last year, with neither man, realising they had reached the end at Villa, offering little direction to the players. The lack of communication became so bad that striker Ollie Watkins — usually a reserved, quiet character — took it upon himself to organise a huddle on the Craven Cottage pitch in a bid to restore some semblance of order.

By contrast, Emery is a constant presence up on the touchline, instructing his team through every passage of play. Figures close to Villa say it is a small window into his all-consuming personality, where those in his inner circle describe him as “obsessive” in wanting to extract each possible marginal gain.

In his early days at Villa, Emery would work on at Bodymoor Heath, Villa’s training ground, until as late as 10pm. His close friend, and now the club’s director of football, Damian Vidagany accompanied him and joked how their nocturnal habits would drive security staff, desperately hoping for sleep, to despair. While those hours have now slightly reduced (Emery tends to work 7am-7pm these days, but is prone to staying later to study for the next game) his intensity has not.

Emery’s exhaustive methods meant getting results quickly was important in terms of getting senior players onside. Players subsequently saw purpose in his prolonged preparations and have continued to adhere to his plans. “He’s naturally confident but he loves Emery,” said a source close to one key player. “The coach always asks him never to be afraid to play.”

The first pre-season under Emery this summer was energy-sapping. Lots of travel (including a three-game U.S. tour) with lots of warm-up matches afforded little opportunity for downtime and pushed players, in terms of physical exertion, far more than they experienced in their one pre-season under Gerrard. There were aches and pains before the final friendly away to another of Emery’s former Spanish clubs Valencia but, among players and staff, there remained total buy-in.

Pushing through physical barriers was illustrated once more in Emery opting to go with an unchanged side on Saturday, less than 72 hours after the final whistle against City. “I was thinking about changing the starting XI,” he said, “but yesterday every player said they were perfect to play.”

Emery wanted to build a best-in-class mentality throughout the club. Senior figures involved in non-related footballing matters at Villa say other aspects are having to play catch-up in matching the progress shown under Emery’s leadership. This was also reflected in Villa’s recruitment, where Emery and Vidagany made concerted efforts not to be content with signing “second-rate” players for the sake of it.

In January, Emery’s first window with the club, Villa wanted to give him one new player and sanctioned the Spaniard’s priority target — experienced Real Betis full-back Alex Moreno. With Emery having no prior knowledge of Jhon Duran and despite Villa being far down the line towards his signing from MLS side Chicago Fire — a deal pushed by their then sporting director Johan Lange — the transfer was only finalised once he’d watched footage of the teenage forward and agreed there was potential that could be refined under his coaching.

Emery’s sacking from Arsenal in November 2019 hurt him deeply, given it was a development he did not see coming. He felt blindsided by the collapse of faith in his project after only 18 months.

Therefore, in his second crack at the Premier League, Emery intended to build a structure around him that was robust enough to withstand dips in form and, more significantly, to forge the club he joined in his image. Both he and Vidagany share the viewpoint that a settled environment is more important than having money to spend.

Co-owners Sawiris and Wes Edens were enthused by Project Emery and wanted to deliver a supportive network. And having watched him guide Villa from the relegation candidates he inherited to Europa Conference League qualifiers in less than a full season, they gave Emery greater autonomy in bringing aboard more Spanish-speaking staff, including president of football operations Monchi.

On Saturday, Emery thanked Edens and Sawiris for their contributions to Villa’s historic run of home form.

The new coach’s influence became increasingly tangible in recruitment and contracts, where he pushed a new deal for Mings, having been won over by the England international after his early reservations. This was the first sign of chief executive Christian Purslow becoming sidelined, and he left the club in the summer.

Similarly, Lange moved away from the day-to-day running of the club to assist the owners in their plans to build a multi-club stable before leaving Villa to join fellow Premier League side Tottenham Hotspur in October. Although he helped to develop Villa following his appointment in the summer of 2020, current staff are so confident in Emery’s project and their standing that Lange’s exit has not been a cause for concern.

Before Emery, neither of Edens and Sawiris attended many Villa fixtures. This changed, however, because of their extremely strong affection for him and because they see a team who are winning. After a recent match, Sawiris was pitchside and clapped every player off the pitch and during the November international break, Emery, Vidagany and Monchi attended a Milwaukee Bucks game, the NBA basketball team co-owned by Edens.

In their desire to give Emery what he wants, Edens and Sawiris’ holding company, V Sports, announced a partnership with lower-league Spanish club Real Union last month. In June, Emery and his brother, Igor, acquired a controlling stake in the club from their native Basque region, who their grandfather and father both played for. Strengthening ties improves Real Union’s footballing set-up, with Villa now in a position to share ideas, including coaching and data — something that naturally appealed to Emery.

Even though there are concerns externally as to whether Villa’s owners are giving too much power to Emery and his Spanish appointments, their unwavering view is that he will succeed and will not be leaving.

“You don’t know how lucky Aston Villa are to have these owners,” said Vidagany. “Coming from a traditional club in Spain to Aston Villa, which is self-proud and has a very big history, the owners understand. This is not easy because the interest of investors sometimes is bigger than the understanding of the club.

“What we found here are owners who are committed financially and embrace Villa’s heritage. We knew from the first moment we were not going to be Manchester City or Manchester United, but we knew that if we are professional and explain the plan, the owners will be committed to the plan.”

One of the first phone calls Emery made before joining Villa was to Vidagany, who initially came with him as his personal assistant. Vidagany is tasked with handling the aspects of management away from the training pitch, connecting multiple departments at the club and ensuring alignment throughout. After the subsequent arrival of former Sevilla colleague Monchi, he and Vidagany take care of transfer negotiations and act as sounding boards for any queries.

Vidagany is a transparent and frank communicator in his dealings with players and agents, informing them via email and in meetings if they should seek another club. This summer, he told certain players they could leave provided they came to Villa with a buyer, outlining the sort of fees the club were looking for in each case.

Emery, Vidagany and Monchi have formed a ‘triangle of power’, and are charged with making the key football-related decisions. They have a close relationship, eating breakfast together and working from a shared office that is split into three rooms. The trio travel to games together on the team coach and although Emery will not make such statements publicly, there is a belief between the club’s three main decision-makers that Villa can be contenders, even if there is a disparity in resources between them and the domestic elite.

Emery has hired several Spanish-speaking staff whom he trusts implicitly, including assistant Pako Ayestaran, who had worked in the Premier League before, under Rafa Benitez at Liverpool from 2004-07 — when they won the Champions League. Ayestaran’s appointment is being regarded as one of Emery’s shrewdest decisions, with his experience adding an alternative voice to other trusted assistants.

Another relied-upon staff member is goalkeeping coach Javi Garcia. While first-choice ’keeper Emiliano Martinez had a close relationship with the role’s previous occupant Neil Cutler, it is understood he is working with Garcia even more. Martinez invited Garcia to the recent Ballon D’or ceremony where he was named the world’s best goalkeeper. Garcia is open to using different technologies and data to vary training and achieve marginal gains in Martinez’s shot-stopping and distribution.

Emery likes to take staff who work at the Bodymoor Heath training ground out for lunch and dinner, which has helped to foster a spirit of unity at the team’s day-to-day home on the northern outskirts of Birmingham.

The support network away from the training pitch has also been crucial in the club providing a stable base for Emery.

Phil Roscoe, who leads the player care department, is well-liked among the squad and their families and is available to help at any hour. Sofia Allen, Villa’s player care officer, speaks multiple languages and has helped new signings from overseas settle in. Diego Carlos, for instance, knew little English when he joined from Sevilla under Gerrard in the 2022 pre-season. The Brazilian centre-back then sustained a significant injury (a ruptured Achilles tendon) in just his second appearance for the club in the August, while having to help his family settle after the move from Spain and find schools for his children. But Villa were on hand to help and subsequently eased the transition.

There is a sense among senior contacts that Villa, in regards to infrastructure, have seriously got their act together in the past year, coinciding with Emery’s arrival. The club now boast a refurbished, state-of-the-art training facility, have an operational inner-city academy complex — though it’s not yet open to the public — and are pressing ahead with plans to increase Villa Park’s 42,000 capacity to 50,000.

Such growth might have not been quite as swift if Villa had been unable to offer the level of stability given to Emery, with observers close to the situation pointing to the current dysfunction elsewhere in the Premier League at Chelsea and Manchester United.

The players were given two days off in the afterglow of their record 15th straight home league win.

That historic feat is another sign of new ground being broken and of the progress being made under Emery and throughout the club.

#unai emery #wish my work meetings were a whole 75mins lol #brb googling how long it takes to be some kind of sports professional so I can work at BMH and have dinner with Unai #aston villa #utv #he’s lighting a fire under my backside too

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abomination-nation · 9 months

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Bloons td6 glue Gunner paragon :)

I've been playing a lot recently and i thought to myself. I want a rainbow glue gunner paragon. So i drew one. Most of my thoughts are included in the image itself, along with my signature (BootlegSeraphim is my username pretty much everywhere except Tumblr, I may change my username here sometime. I don't know.) If you want to repost the image on another website, link back to this post somewhere in your post, Please and Thankies. Sorry to Redditors but I'm scared of that website.

Top Path Glue Gunners are one of my favorite Towers for some ungodly reason, right up there with Middle Path Druids and Bottom Path Dartling Gunners. So that was my main inspiration here. It's maybe a little less Complex and Epic than the other Paragons we have actually in the game, but I don't know! I think having the rainbows in there kindof makes up for it, in a way.. I really do think that this Monkey should be Uber Colorful. If you look at all the other glue gunners, their suits are all so eyecatching, and their Glues are so bright too! I think a Gluey Paragon should amp that up!

secret message for Developers under the Readmore 🤫Just In Case they somehow see this!

I know the sneaky sausages over at NinjaKiwi do take inspirations from their communities, so hey. If you're a Kiwi and you're reading this, 1) 👍yaaay!! Hii :) 2) I don't really need to say such a thing, but I feel inclined, Do whatever you might need to To make this design more Intricate and Intense and whatnot. There's plenty of opportunity for big sploshes of Glue everywhere 3) I think the mixed Glue Splatters should be rainbow as well. I know logically if the different Glues are mixing then they should be. Well. Probably Brown? And Gross. But with the power of Video Games don't have to conform perfectly to real life, We can have the prettiest Glue ever :) Rainbows of Pure Popping Power sounds Delightful!

#bloons #bloonstd6 #glue gunner #btd6 paragon

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dumbass-tumbler-cryptid · 5 months

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Hi, I wanted to let you know that I've been following your Cabin in The Woods fanfiction since the first chapter came out and I'm totally blown away by how well you wrote it and that the snippets already show that the sequel will be absolutely wonderful ♥️

I also love all the original characters (Hunter, Gunner, Ada) and I totally don't understand how you managed to write them all so differently and creatively.

I s wanted to ask two questions: 1. Can you post a new snippet from Cabin?

2. Do you know when you will add your Cabin work to the Sims gallery? Some time ago I sent you my version of Hunter and Spider and I really need Quaritch, Paz and a house because I absolutely can't make them and it frustrates me so much haha

Have a lovely day/night ♥️

You are so sweet! your message was the first thing I saw this morning and it made my whole day 💞

To answer your questions I finally got around to making that cc list for the sims! Here is the link to that post and I hope you have fun! Let me know if you want/need anything for your game.

And of course you can have a snippet. I'm always happy to share💙

******************************************************************

He glanced at Junior again, snuggled in his bed on the very edge of sleep, and smiled. “Good night son. Sweet dreams.” Miles Sr went to bed not long after, enjoyed a dreamless sleep, then woke at his usual four am. The first thing he did was check on his son. Only for his heart to freeze in his chest when he found him gone. Escaped through his window.

Rage immediately consumed him, making the man see red, as he dressed and grabbed his tracker. How could Junior have left me, just like that. After everythin’ I’ve done for him. Saved him, cared for him, loved him. Ungrateful brat. I’ll set him straight, that's for sure. Sadness complemented his anger, twisting his insides to a pulp. We’ve been so happy. Why would he still want to run? Then the fury returned, reminding him, they poisoned his mind. It’s not my fault and it’s not his either. I’ll fix him. Everythin’ is going to be alright.

He found his son easily enough. Junior was walking around the perimeter searching for a weak point. The father scoffed at the sight. The sensors for his ankle monitor were buried underground. There was no way his son would ever find them unless he knew exactly where to look.

Rage still fueled him as he shouted, “The hell you think you’re doing boy!” Junior froze like a deer in headlights. Their eyes met for just a moment, his son’s filling with fear before he darted to the closet tree, shimmying up to its lower branches in seconds. Miles Sr would have been proud if he wasn’t extremely pissed off. “Boy you have ten seconds to put your feet on the ground before things get even worse for you. One…two…three….four….,” Junior wisely jumped down, slumping in defeat, head hung low. The father reached out, scruffed him by the neck, then began the walk back home.

Junior, in the first act of common sense he’d show all day, stayed silent as they traversed the forest. Now that he had his son back, Miles Sr had to think up a fitting punishment. Something that would knock some real sense into his boy. But what? His last punishment had clearly been a temporary fix to the problem. Maybe a more old school approach would do the trick.

#spider socorro #miles spider socorro #miles quaritch #colonel miles quaritch #cabin in the woods #avatar fanfiction

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yellowkitkieran · 1 year

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What the Heart Wants: Part 4

Read part 3 here

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Kieran is your best friend’s older brother. Your best friend’s fit older brother that you definitely haven’t had a crush on for years. Not at all. And he certainly doesn’t like you back, that would be absurd...

Monday at training, Aaron came in absolutely beaming, his smile ear to ear and it didn't take a genius to guess why his mood was so high.

At least Aaron hadn't bragged about shagging you. If he had, Kieran wouldn't have been able to stop himself from punching him right in his stupid, apparently very attractive face and laying a verbal claim over you then and there.

But no, Kieran simply avoided his best friend for a few hours, trying to drown out his merry laugh by throwing himself into his recovery. And thankfully yesterday was an off day, which left him free to binge a shoddy American television drama and eat all the ice cream he could.

Now it's Tuesday and what he can't avoid is his previously set in stone commitment of dropping the pair of you at the airport for your flight back home to Scotland. He was stiff and awkward on the drive, speaking little and looking in his rear view even less. At one point, he'd even had to roll his window down because he felt like your perfume was suffocating him, filling his lungs with the flowery scent of you and confusing his senses.

Because since his revelation two days ago, he's not been able to stop his thoughts from drifting to you, no matter how hard he tries. In the shower, at night when he closes his eyes to sleep, even when he's on the pitch- you consume every minute of his thoughts.

What's Bug doing now? Probably with Aaron.

Oh, she'd love that book. I should get it for her.

She leaves today. I won't see her again for ages. I should tell her how I feel.

The last bit would be self sabotage, the likes of which Kieran might never recover from. He can't let you catch on to the lust that simmers beneath the surface; if you do, who knows how you'll react? You were frosty on the drive, which he can scarcely blame you for. He's avoided your messages, not responding to the ones asking if you could see him before you leave. The last thing he wants is for things to be awkward before you head home.

"Do you have plans to come back anytime soon Bella?" Kieran fights to keep his voice from betraying his true question: will he need to deal with seeing you again in the coming weeks?

"I certainly won't be back any time soon." Kieran stumbles at the sound of your voice, knocking your suitcase on the bumper of his car as he sets it down. "Honestly it's a great city and all, but that hangover after our night out? Fucking hell, worst one of my entire life! I don't need a repeat."

Kieran's eyes remain trained on your feet, unable to lift them or find his words to reply. God, will it always be this hard? Why does looking at you seem like some herculean feat that he can't overcome? Will he ever be able to meet your eyes again?

Bella laughs, unknowingly taking the spotlight off of him, "neither will I! We're gonna have enough time in this city when we come here for uni- I don't need to set another foot in London until we start classes."

"I dunno though… I might come back once or twice and see Aaron? Depends on where that goes. I enjoyed the time I spent with him, at least." Kieran's eyes snap up. He immediately realizes his mistake when he finds you watching him intently, like you'd only spoken to see how he'd react. He can't help but feel like he's failed some fundamental test when fury flickers across your face, there and gone.

He can't do anything right with you. Between nearly telling you off a few nights ago and apparently upsetting you now, he has no idea where he stands. And it's infuriating as well as terrifying.

Kieran doesn't want to lose you. As a friend, of course. Nothing more.

As he always does, Kieran turns to self-deprecation to ease the unease roiling in his gut. "Wow, yeah nothing about Bella's older brother- just the Gunner's keeper huh? I see where I rank- at the bottom apparently." Kieran laughs and Bella slugs his arm. He's acutely aware of how you remain silent.

Your voice is iced over, "yes, you do. At least Aaron doesn't ignore me when something is clearly bothering him."

"Ugh you would know," Bella quips, cutting off Kieran's reply. "You abandoned me last night for him- again! That's twice on this trip you chose a boy over your best friend!" Bella rolls her eyes in a way that lets you know she's not really mad at all.

Kieran's shock causes his mouth to move faster than his brain. "Oh- you spent the night with Aaron? Why?"

"Because he's sweet." You cross your arms over your chest, popping your hip like you used to when you were younger and trying to be intimidating. "And he told me how you cornered him and basically told him I'm off limits. I can take care of myself, Kieran."

But Kieran is mad. Furious even- with his friend and with you, thanks to your attitude. He doesn't deserve to be chastised like this- he was simply trying to make sure you didn't get hurt.

His hands curl into fists at his sides, blunt nails digging into his palms as he turns a similar frostiness back on you, "wow, all it takes is one drink and the two of you get real cozy huh? Usually it takes way more convincing for a woman to-"

"Finish that sentence," you cut in, "I dare you Tierney. Finish it."

Kieran takes a step towards you, leaving mere inches between your chests. This close, he can see the freckles of color in your irises, layering over each other to create a one of a kind mosaic. He can feel your hot breath on his chin as you raise your defiant gaze to meet his. He can practically taste the venom on your tongue, swirling behind your teeth ready to poison him.

"Fuck off Tierney," you mutter, "before you get hurt."

"Maybe I should finish that sentence," he says with equal, level quiet. "You wanna know what I was gonna say-"

Bella shoves between the two of you, laying her hands on Kieran's chest and forcing him back. "Okaaaaay and that concludes our trip to London! Thanks brother- see you in a few months when you've lost your attitude!"

With her arm looped through yours, Bella takes a step. Ultimately she almost gets yanked off her feet; you stand your ground, feet a shoulder width apart on the pavement, like your shoes are glued to the sidewalk. The way you stare Kieran down stirs something in him. His soul responds to the fire in your eyes the same way his feet are drawn to the pitch by its siren's call- he finds he can't look away. He doesn't want to look away.

Kieran's mind wanders as the seconds tick by. Do you look at Aaron like this, like you want to devour him and slap him at the same time? Or is this a look reserved only for Kieran?

"Goodbye, Kieran. I hope you learn how to treat your friends with respect before I move here, or else you can count me out of those ranks."

Ouch. Friendzoned, hard.

Kieran nods to say, 'message received.' Seemingly satisfied, you spin on your heel and speed walk towards the check in desk. Kieran leans against the boot of his Audi and watches until your suitcases are loaded onto a belt and whisked away. He sees you hesitate, boarding pass in hand, and he's prepared when you glance over your shoulder like you feel his eyes on you.

Kieran waggles his fingers in your direction in a mocking sort of way. Your shoulders go rigid and you shoot him the finger. Kieran tips his head to the side. Despite knowing he'll regret it later, he can't help but blow you a bitter kiss.

**********

Three weeks later

You break into a run the second you lay eyes on Aaron. He opens his arms, anticipating your jump into them and sweeping you off your feet with ease. You laugh is bright as he spins you in a circle before setting you down, smiling when your eyes meet.

"I missed you," he mumbles in your ear, bringing a blush to your cheeks. "I'm glad you finally agreed to come visit."

"You sort of made it hard to say no Ramsdale, what with you pestering me about it day in and day out." You smile at him, unable to miss the way he's unabashedly staring at your lips. You don't mind because the feeling is mutual; you can't take your eyes off his either.

"Use my name please, will you? I like that much better." He nudges your nose with his before letting you go to grab your bags, a fact which you're thankful for considering you definitely overpacked for a weekend getaway.

"I thought Ramsdale was your name, or did I miss a memo?" You tap your chin thoughtfully as you continue, "did you change it while I was gone? I could've sworn that kit you sent me said Ramsdale…"

"You're an arse," Aaron quips, pinching your side. "You know what I mean!"

"Alright Aaron," you say with a heavy roll of your eyes. He perks up at his first name though, a sight which you find utterly adorable. "Where are you taking me anyway?"

"Home." The way he says it gives you butterflies, like it's simply true.

"And then?"

"And then maybe I can take you on a proper date somewhere, maybe to get some food?"

"Ooh yes, something greasy and filling- that sounds perfect!"

Once you're at his car with your bag loaded in the boot and are within the relative privacy of the front seat, Aaron leans over the center and kisses your cheek. You blush again- how many times is this man going to make you blush today?

You turn to smile at him. "What was that for?"

"Because I missed you." That's it. No frills, no expectations hiding behind his words, just plain and simple admiration. In response, you lay your hand on his cheek and pull him in for a proper kiss, just a quick peck but at least it's your lips on his.

Aaron echoes your question, "and what was that for?"

You parrot his earlier response with a grin, "because I missed you."

Aaron holds your hand on the entire drive to his flat, helping you settle in once you arrive. When you agreed to come for a visit, Aaron insisted on one of two options for lodging: one, he'd put you up in a suite at the fanciest hotel he could find, or two, stay with him and hang out in his guest room. You chose the latter, not wanting him to spend a fortune when he'd already paid for your plane ticket to London in the first place.

And you're glad you did- Aaron's flat is gorgeous. As a bachelor, you would've expected bare minimum furnishings and football stuff shoved in every nook and cranny, but Aaron's flat is quite the opposite. The walls, as expected, have some football memories scattered on them, but at least the kits are framed and hung squarely. A thick patterned rug covers the hardwood floor in the living room, set before a large television and an L shaped sofa that looks like the perfect spot to binge watch a show. The neutral color palette is dotted with warm reds and sunny oranges, lending a coziness to the entire space.

The guest room he leads you to is just as impressive, the wood framed bed perfectly made with crisp white sheets and a fluffy down comforter. Aaron sets your luggage near the closet and spreads his arms wide, "so what do you think? Does it pass inspection?"

You laugh, shaking your head at him, "I'll admit I'm pleasantly surprised Aaron- you've done well with your place. Are you sure you didn't pay a designer to pick all this out- or a maid to keep it clean?"

"No and no," he replies, "I like things tidy and I've always had a bit of an eye for design. Having my own space to do with as I please definitely gives me plenty of room to explore!"

You nod appreciatively, noting the bachelor-esque touches when you look closely. A football stashed in the corner, an Arsenal scarf over the desk chair- small things that add a touch of Aaron's interests to the room.

"Well then, why don't you give me ten minutes," you say with a nod towards the attached bath, "and then we can go grab dinner?"

Aaron's smile could outshine a thousand suns. "I think that sounds perfect. I'll change into something presentable."

*********

What are the odds that you pick the same hole in the wall pub for dinner that Kieran does? Miniscule, in a city with as many options as London presents.

You aren't even in London, and yet Kieran finds himself catching glimpses of you in half the women that brush past him.

Her hair is the same color as yours. That outfit is something you'd probably wear. Your eyes are the same color as her top.

Kieran is starting to worry that he might be obsessed with you. Instead of paying attention to his date, he's busy picking out pieces of you.

So when you walk through the doors into the dimly lit foyer packed with bodies, Kieran decides then and there that fate has it out for him.

"Oh bloody- fuck me," he breathes, ducking his head. His date, a lovely French woman named Collette that he'd met on some app, frowns over her wine.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost, chérie. Is everything alright?" She lays a hand on her arm and Kieran has to fight the urge to shove her off.

"No," he answers immediately, peeking over her shoulder with a scowl when he spots Aaron taking your jacket. Praying he's hidden well enough, Kieran watches as your eyes scan the room in search of a place to sit.

Collette glances behind her with a frown, failing to see anything that might disturb him like this. "What? Kieran what's happened?"

"Just… Someone I know is here."

Unfortunately for Kieran, you point to the stools a few paces from where he himself sits. Kieran curls in on himself, fighting between wanting to be seen and wanting to stay hidden. You come into earshot too quickly, making the decision for him and forcing him to hunker down.

"...no I'm serious- keepers are the backbone of any team!"

Aaron's laugh has the hairs on the back of Kieran's neck standing on end. "You're flattering me. I won't be offended if you tell the truth! Without strikers, no one would score and thus there would be no game."

"Yeah sure, but without a decent keeper? There would be no real challenge, no one to stop those strikers from just hitting the back of the net over and over. It would be too easy! And wingers, yeah they're important too… they help you but when that shot comes in, it's all down to your reflexes as a keeper."

Kieran is so lost in your voice that he doesn't notice his date has abandoned him. He catches a flash of her blonde hair near the exit, escaping a mediocre date that took a rather abrupt nosedive when you walked in.

Sighing and resigning himself to his fate, he leans his elbow on the bar but keeps his back toward you. Maybe if he's careful you won't notice him and he can escape unscathed.

He should leave. But your presence keeps him rooted to the spot against his will. You're like a storm he just can't escape; appearing in his skies to rain on his parade. He's helpless, unable to run for shelter because his limbs won't work. Instead he stays still, letting your voice soak him like a cold rain until a chill settles under his skin.

"Kieran?"

Fuck. Of course Aaron knows what his back looks like- he sees it all day on the pitch.

Kieran's eyes slide shut. He wills a smile onto his face, praying it isn't plastic when he swivels and is met by your hard stare, annoyed that you've wrecked the evening.

Kieran misses your smile. He wishes you wouldn't look at him like he's the scum of the earth, like he's the one that betrayed you instead of the other way around.

"Hey Bug- Aaron couldn't find someplace nicer to take you than this hellhole?"

"Don't call me that." Your voice carries the same ice as that day at the airport. It slowly begins to wear him down, bit by bit.

Aaron rolls his eyes, though the gesture is more amused than annoyed. "Don't look at me, she picked it. Insisted they've got the best bar food in the whole city, though I'm not really believing that just yet."

"It isn't half bad." Kieran half smiles. His eyes still haven't left yours.

Smile at me, Kieran thinks. Just once. Come on, Bug, please… I miss you.

The past few weeks have been… complicated, to say the least. Kieran has tried to put his own feelings aside to be happy for his mate, but there's only so many times he can hear about how amazing you are without wanting to snap. His jealousy is growing into a tangible thing. He spends less time with Aaron off the pitch, not wanting to hear him giggle as he texts you or worse, when he calls and Kieran can faintly make out your voice on the other line.

You haven't messaged him once since the airport incident, as Kieran has dubbed it. Not that you talked frequently before then, but at least he could usually count on congratulations after a good match. Now he gets nothing, and each day that passes only makes his loss more apparent.

Kieran forces himself to speak. "How are you, Bug? Haven't heard from you in ages."

Without a hint of remorse, you spin to face Aaron without answering his question. "You know what, I'm not all that hungry actually. Why don't we just find some place for takeout on the way back to your flat, babe?"

Babe? Babe. You called Aaron babe.

You may as well have driven a stake through Kieran's chest. So you are a thing then. Kieran truly has no chance with you, not even in this hell.

"Yeah sure darlin- See you at training tomorrow mate?" Aaron, the sweet soul he is, has no clue about the turmoil happening in Kieran's head. Aaron doesn't know that he stomps on Kieran's heart when he takes your hand and smiles at you like you're his world- the way Kieran wishes you'd smile at him.

Like you used to smile at him.

"See you later Bug," Kieran tries, praying you'll give him something. His heart is shattered into pieces at his feet, with the exception of one small shard. That one, that last, miniscule piece, you hold in your fist and crush it with two simple words.

"Bye, Kieran."

You walking out on him is becoming a disturbingly common occurrence in his life. Kieran waits until you're gone to signal for another drink, asking for a double in hopes it'll somehow make him forget the hurt surging through his veins with each beat of his ragged heart.

"You love 'er."

Kieran startles, glancing up to the bartender. She leans on the counter, using one hand to slide him another whisky.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"The lass that left with your mate. She was off like a rocket when she saw ya. Must be history there."

"No history." Kieran drags a finger through the sweat on the side of his tumbler. "No love on her end, either. Obviously."

The woman's laugh drips with pity, which Kieran is too depressed to call her out on. "That answers my initial question then, you do love 'er. Why don't you tell her, lad?"

"Because she wants nothing to do with me, you've got eyes. You saw how she was with me- is that a woman who has any interest in me? Nah."

"Actually she probably does. If I were her and ya pissed me off like I'm assuming y'have, I'd act the same way if I felt something for ya. Women don't hold that much hatred for someone unless they're trying to cover something up."

Kieran squishes the seed of hope that takes root in his stomach. What does this woman know about you, or what you might feel for him? She's nothing; an outsider trying to hype him up in hopes of a fat tip. As if sensing his train of thought, she holds up her hands palms out in defense.

"Look I might not know the whole situation, but all I'm saying is there's probably something there. It's worth a shot isn't it?"

"Not if I only make things worse," Kieran mumbles, knocking back the rest of his drink. "Can I close my tab?"

The woman smiles sadly at Kieran, but runs his card and hands it back. He pauses, grimacing before murmuring, "should I message her?"

"Now? Nah lad. But in the morning? Absolutely."

But when morning rolls around, Kieran doesn't have the balls. He leaves his phone on his side table and heads in for training, hoping to sweat out his sorrows and come home exhausted enough not to care.

#kieran tierney #kieran tierney fanfiction #kieran tierney fanfic #kieran tierney fic #kieran tierney imagine #footballer fic #footballer fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer fluff #arsenal fc #arsenal #forbidden fruit #jac writes

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