#Man UTD

[existence-is-overrated]

ras has a new boyf ❤️🚨

[sturniluvr]

Oh he looks too good 🫠🫠

[helen-with-an-a]

Badger

Hi. So this is a little thought I've had in my head for a while based on the fact that none of the English commentators can pronounce Ona's name properly.

Ona Batlle x reader

Description: You're convinced Ona doesn't like your nickname for her

Word Count: 4.2k

It had been a gruelling game, the ball rolling end to end creating little respite for any player. Goals were flying in left and right from both sides. It was a draw in the final minute of overtime and both teams were desperate not to share points. A spectacular tackle from Ona had prevented Hemp from scoring, allowing the ball to be collected and fed all the way back up the pitch. It had ricocheted around the City box before falling to your feet. It was instinctual, not thought or planning behind it, yet as the ball sailed pasted Roebuck’s fingers – it was like it was destiny. It was by no means your first goal for United, nor your first goal of the game. But it felt like it. The crowd erupted, the music drowned out by the noise and the rush of blood in your head.

The Blues had no time to score an equaliser. You watched as the seconds ticked down – City trying to press again, although the fight had clearly been lost in them. Finally, finally, the Ref blew the whistle. Old Trafford erupted. It had been an exciting game for the fans – lots of goals, tough tackles, harsh words, decent referring. As a player it had been exhausting but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ona was the first one to you, somehow making the distance in record time despite being further down the pitch.

“Mi hermosa superestrella!” She shouted as she threw herself onto your back. You stumbled slightly, your legs feeling like jelly as the adrenaline disappeared from your veins. “Mi maravillosa, hermosa, fantástica, increíble, magnífica, bella goleadora.” She littered each word with an array of kisses to your head, her arms wrapping around your neck as she made herself comfortable – clearly showing you she wasn’t getting down any time soon.

“Stop,” you whined, getting shy under her compliments.

“Nope, never.” She laughed again, squeezing her legs tighter around your waist in a hug. You discretely pinched the underneath of her thigh, close to the hem of her shorts. “Aye,” she squealed. “Can’t a girl compliment her amor de su vida after she had an incredible game?” She pressed a sneaky kiss to your jaw as you made your way towards the fans.

You knew the fans would be going crazy over your behaviour; you had never made your relationship a secret. Ona often featured in your monthly photo dumps, your Instagram stories showing carefully selected insights into your life. Her Instagram was the same, filled with private moments that neither of you minded sharing with fans. Videos of you after matches were all over the internet – hugs that lasted too long to be just friendly, kisses pressed into sweaty hairlines and shiny foreheads, your body being wrapped around her smaller frame as the final whistle went, neither of you leaving each other sides until you were sure they were fine after a tackle gone wrong.

You were walking you way around the stadium, laughing along to Mary and Tooney’s jokes as you fell into step with them. It was as you were passing Alex and Fara that you heard your name be called out. Instinctively, you turned – naturally bringing Ona with you as she was still securely wrapped around you. Alex was beckoning you over – a microphone outstretched and an expectant smile. You tilted your head back to look at Ona, expecting her to have loosened her legs by now. Yet her grip held firm, nodding in the direction of the TV cameras. You shrugged, readjusted her on your hips and came to join the women.

“And here we have Y/F/N Y/S/N and Ona Badger,” Alex said, laughing at the way you stood. Had she really just said that?

“Hi, sorry about this one,” you gestured with your head. “She always says her legs don’t work after matches.” You teased, the three of you laughing at Ona’s indignant squawk, yet she made no move to get down. Fara offered you a microphone, watching on as you looked around a little – struggling to figure out how you were going to do the interview with Ona on your back. Ona solved that solution easily enough, taking the mic and holding it where you need it. You squeezed her calf appreciatively.

“What a match, hey? How are you feeling?”

“Yeh, it’s insane. Derby’s are always hard, and we knew it was going be a fight today, but that was something else.” You chuckled, blowing a stray piece of hair from your face – thanking Ona absentmindedly as she delicately moved it away for you. “We all knew we had jobs to do out there and we just went ahead and did it. Not much more I can say really. I have absolute faith in these girls, and I think it showed today.” You hoped it was a reasonable response. You weren’t the biggest fan of the media side of football. Pre-recorded videos and challenges you could do no issue, but the live stuff - you hated it.

“And what about you, Ona? You were up and down that pitch today like a Yo-Yo.” Fara asked. You moved your head to the side, allowing Ona the space to talk.

“Sí. Again, I just did my job. It was this one that was putting them into the back of the net.” You blushed ferociously, thanking the lucky stars that you were already quite red from the match.

You continued the interview as quickly as possible – conscious that this was being streamed live to the BBC. You skin becoming redder with every passing compliment Ona threw you way. Of course, you gave them back just as often, but she wasn’t as embarrassed by stuff like that. Eventually, the interview came to a natural end.

“Thank you so much, girls, I’ll let you get back. Ladies and Gentlemen, Y/F/N Y/S/N and Ona Badger,” you heard Alex say as you turned away. You heard Ona groan in your ear as you carried on walking.

“Come on then, Señorita Badger.” You couldn’t contain your cackle as you helped her down to sit in your cubby.

“Detener,” she whined – her arms coming to cross over her chest. “They can never say it properly. It’s so annoying.” She moaned, burying her face in your clothed stomach as you moved to untie her braid.

“My love, they are atrocious at pronouncing non-English names, you know this.” You soothed her, allowing your fingers to card through her now-loose hair. “It doesn’t make it right, but it’s not personal.”

“It’s every game though. Every interview and time someone says my name its always ‘Battle’ or ‘Badger’. I can’t decide which is worse.” She complained, moving away from your body to look at you, pouting. You matched her pout; one had coming to cup her jaw and the other to lightly trace over the crease in between her eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, my lovely. I don’t know what to say,” you admitted. “But if it makes you feel any better, they’re always saying good things.” You tried a weak smile. “You’re our best defender.” You said honestly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. This time, she really did blush.

“Deja de mentir,” she sighed.

“I’m not lying. You are an incredibly, wonderfully, amazingly talented defender.” You laughed as her cheeks darkened yet again. “And all mine.” You finished off, placing a gentle kiss to her soft lips. “I love you.” You basked in the silence between you to a little longer before adding, “my little Badger.” Her eyes snapped open, scoffing as her mouth dropping open as you laughed loudly, scurrying away to the showers before she could retaliate.

You had been calling her Badger for so long now, that you had never considered what it might look like to others, or to her. After that day in the locker room, it had slowly become more and more integrated into your daily vocabulary. It started as a nickname you used to tease her, loving how riled up she became. But then you started using it in training, shouting it out when she did something particularly impressive. Eventually, it became like any other loving nickname. You were her mi amor, and she was your Badger.

It was something you hadn’t considered when you both made the move over to Spain. It was so normal at this point. Surely, she would have said something if she didn’t like the name? You used it all the time. You wanted her to pass you the salt and pepper? You felt sad and needed a hug? She was injured and needed comfort? You were pressed up against her in the Club dancing the night away? She had done something great in training? She was irritating the crap out of you? You were annoying her and being an all-round brat? She was always Badger.

It had never crossed you mind until Alexia brought it up after training one day.

You were walking out to the car, Ona tugging on your hand to hurry you up.

“Vamos, mi amor. Apresúrate,” she pulled you harder, taking your hand in both of hers.

“Badger, you go ahead.” You laughed as she pouted. “You’re the one going on a ‘La Masia day’. In case you’ve forgotten, I wasn’t raised here.” You teased, using your strength to pulled her back to your side. “I was told in no uncertain terms by Aita that this was a Catalan only event And that she loved me, but I needed to get lost for the afternoon. You need time with your people, and I am totally ok with that, Badger.” You smiled softly at her, melting as her arms wove around your waist.

“Ona, deixa d'estar tan enamorat i afanya't.” Aitana’s loud voice drifted from across the car park.

“A la merda, Aita. Que no tinguis núvia no vol dir que hagis de ser dolent.” Ona responded. You had no idea what she was saying but even with your limited Catalan, you recognised ‘núvia’ and guessed it was something to do with you.

“Go on, Badger. Go enjoy yourself, I’ll see you at home.” You cupped her cheek with your hand, giving her a gentle goodbye kiss. She squeezed you once more before running off after Aitana– shoving her as she climbed into the backseat.

“Do you want to come for a quick coffee with us?” A voice next to you made you jump.

“Fucking hell.” You turned to see Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid standing behind you. “Jesus, warn a girl next time.” You placed a hand over your heart and took calming breaths, glaring at Mapi as she chuckled at your reaction.

“We said your name like 10 times, chica.” Alexia smiled, taking your arm, and pulling you towards her car.

“Sorry, I was just … sorry.” You stared at the pavement, a bright blush rushing to your cheeks.

“Ella está enamorada” Mapi cheered, coming up to pinch your cheeks.

“You two are way worse,” you said, gesturing between Ingrid and Mapi. “Oh, mi vida, jugaste muy bien hoy.” You dramatically threw yourself at Ingrid, laughing with her at Mapi’s incensed expression.

“No sueno asi”

“Yes, you do.” You said at the same time as Ingrid. Mapi’s shocked face made you laugh even harder as Alexia unlocked the car.

“Maps, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call her Ingrid. Even when you aren’t talking to her it’s always ‘mi vida’ or ‘mi princessa’ or ‘mi Tesoro’. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call her Ingrid. It can be quite nauseating.” You goaded her as you took your seat in the passenger side. She gasped, jokingly offended.

“Al menos no llamo a mi novia por un animalito raro.” She clicked her teeth at you.

You eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Animal? You didn’t call Ona an animal, did you? Sometimes you joked she was a koala after the matches as she clambered her way into a customary piggyback – you often made teasing remarks that you didn’t need to see one during your time in Australia because you had one at home with you. But nothing repeatedly.

“Yeh, where did Badger come from?” Alexia asked. Ohhhhh. It clicked for you - sometimes, you could be quite oblivious.

“It’s not after the animal. English commentators and interviewers can never say her name. You must’ve realised that.” The Spanish girls nodded solemnly – often being a victim themselves of mispronounced names. “Well, it started off as a joke really, Alex Scott called her Ona Badger once and it kinda went from there really.” You explained, your attention drifting to looking outside the window

“Ona’s a better woman than me.” Alexia shook her head slightly. You turned back around, looking at her side profile as she drove you towards the coffee shop.

“How-What do you mean?” You asked, confused as to what she was getting at.

“If Olga called me Patella instead of Putellas, I’d go crazy.” Alexia laughed.

“Oh. She doesn’t seem to mind it. I … don’t think?” Did she mind it? She had never said anything to you about it.

“I never said anything when Olga called me Lex for a while. But it really got on my nerves.” She added, making you feel even worse about the situation. Does she really feel like that? Do you irritate her? It must do. What you had thought was just a joke and then an eventual nickname was based on the fact that someone couldn’t pronounce her name right. That would annoy anyone, right?

The rest of the afternoon passed in a daze, the coffee trip and drive back to the training ground carpark was all a blur. Your drive home and daily routine done on autopilot as your actions and behaviours played on repeat in your head. Did Ona hate being called Badger? She must do, right? Not many people in England had struggled to pronounce your name, and you had yet to encounter someone in Spain that couldn’t do it. Your thoughts rattled in your head – leading you to the conclusion that yes, Ona must not like being called Badger. You vowed to stop making her uncomfortable.

“Hola, mi amor.” Ona called as she walked through the door. You could hear the tiredness in her voice.

“Hey, Badg-baby.” You cleared your throat, hoping to cover up your mistake. “Hey, baby.” You kicked yourself mentally for your slip up. With all your internal worry, you missed Ona’s eyebrows scrunching in confusion. You seemed ok in yourself, a little distracted maybe, but nothing noticeable. You were standing at the open fridge, trying to figure out what to make for dinner – so it must be that, Ona decided. You must be distracted by what to make. She came up behind you, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your shoulder. You melted against her, like you always did. This helped calm Ona’s worries a little, beyond not calling her Badger, you were acting normal.

“What do you fancy for tea?” You asked, looking back at her.

“No m'importa, el que sigui més fàcil per a tu,” she said in Catalan. Her voice muffled by the fabric of your jumper.

“What was that, Bad-babe?” You asked her gently, recognising how tired she must be. You twisted around in her grip, closing the fridge door behind you. She looked up at you, a look of displeasure on her face. You chalked it up to her being tired from her afternoon out with the girls; she was actually annoyed that you had, once again, not called her badger.

“El que sigui més fàcil.” She repeated, still speaking in Catalan.

“The only word I recognised was fàcil, so I’m going to assume that mean quick and easy?” She smiled, as you let a finger trace over her freckles on her cheeks, something you always did when she was tired.

“Podríem fer la comanda?” She was still speaking in Catalan. Her tiredness often led to you trying to decipher Catalan – a language you were still trying to get to grips with. But you understood where she was coming from. If you were tired and then forced to speak your third language in your own home, it would not go very well. You really wracked your brains, trying to work out what she was saying.

“I’m sorry, B-honey. What was that?” You asked her, scanning your eyes cross her face.

“Order.” She said grumpily. You sighed, misunderstanding her mood again.

“Ok, my love,” mentally cheering as you didn’t slip up this time. “Let’s go to the sofa and we’ll order something.” You unwound her arms from your waist and pulled them over your shoulders, lifting her up as her legs wrapped securely around your hips. “My koala,” you teased, pressing a kiss to her cheek before she buried her head in your neck.

You hoped that Ona’s uncharacteristic mood was purely down to her tiredness. But after a full night’s sleep where she had refused to leave your arms – something that usually made her sleep like a baby – she still had an attitude with you. She had been fine when you woke up, a soft, sleep-filled smile gracing her beautiful face.

“Bon dia, mi amor.” She had croaked out, a gentle hum coming from her as you scratched at her head.

“Good morning, bad-baby.” Fuck, you had done it again. She pulled back from her beloved location (her face pressed against your neck, you giving her gentle scratches to gradually wake her up). With sleep still in her eyes, her hair a mess and that adorable pout, you couldn’t help but smile – you had, yet again, misattributed her pout for tiredness rather than the anger, and slight hurt, that she felt when you failed to call her Badger. She tried to think back to yesterday. You had very willingly let her go out with the girls yesterday after training, so that couldn’t have been it. Training had gone really well – you always had worked brilliantly as a pair. You had mentioned that you went out to coffee with Alexia, Ingrid and Mapi, maybe something had happened then? But you would have said something though, right? You were the one that was more open and in-touch with your feelings. You always communicated well with everyone around you, especially Ona. Yet, you were refusing to call her Badger. That name had originally been a joke, but eventually it had come to mean so much to her – it was something so unique to your relationship. Other couples could call each other baby, or love, or honey, or babe, or any of the Spanish equivalents. But only she got to be your Badger.

You were still behaving normally which is what threw her off the most. You made her the perfect cup of coffee – like every morning – giving it to her with a kiss to the top of her head as she sat at the table, trying to wake herself up. You held your hand out to her as you walked into the training centre, allowing her warm hand to intertwine with yours. You insisted she tie your hair back, humming quietly as she raked her delicate fingers across your scalp. You made her a plate of all her favourite foods at lunch. You let her rest her body into yours as you sat down, your arm coming around her shoulder as you talked to Lucy and Keira. You drove home with you hand on her thigh and the music blasting loudly. Yet you still hadn’t called her Badger. It was adding considerably to her strange mood – she wasn’t quite angry, but she wasn’t her usual bubbly self … grumpy … that was the only way to describe Ona today. Even Alexia and Patri had picked up on it, asking you if Ona was alright. You tried your best to assure them, telling them that she just hadn’t slept very well (a total lie – it was you that had lied awake staring at the ceiling as Ona’s breath puffed steadily onto your collarbone).

She led you into your house, scowling at you as you tried to make your way into the kitchen.

“Sentarse,” she growled at you, pointing at the sofa. You did as you were told – still very confused as to her behaviour today.

You looked at her, deeply puzzled, as she climbed onto your lap, her legs straddling your thighs. Her behaviour was not what you expected of someone that was angry with you. You pulled out every stop you could think of to help her relax; one hand on her waist, dipping under her shirt to rub at the smooth skin; the other came to cup her jaw, you thumb running repetitive strokes across her cheekbones. It worked, for the most part. She leaned into your hand, her breathing was less harsh, the crinkle in her brow disappeared.

“Oni, my darling girl, mi corazón, mi hermosa, el amor de mi vida. What is up with you today?”

“What is up with me? What is up with you?” She almost shouted, incredulous at the accusation that she had done something wrong.

“You’ve had a scowl on your face the whole day.” You explained, a finger coming to flick at her protruding bottom lip as exhibit A.

“Because of you!” You threw her arms up in exacerbation.

“Me? What have I done?” You tried to think of what you could have done to annoy her. You had stopped calling her Badger, you had let her choose what to eat for tea last night – not even complaining when she chose the place with the not-as-nice-but-just-as-expensive-Sushi – you had done everything as normal today, going so far to drag her away for a steamy makeout session in the bathrooms before practice. Was that what she was upset over?

“No m'has trucat, Badger” she whispered so quietly you could barely hear her.

“Oni, I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear you.” You explained “What did you say?”

“You haven’t called me Badger all day. And last night. Did I do something? Have I annoyed you? You always call me Badger unless you’re angry at me. So ... What. Did. I. Do?” She exploded at you, a lone tear streaking down her cheeks. She rushed to wipe it away, but you got there first, kissing her cheek at the same time.

“No, mi vida. You did nothing wrong.” You looked down at her hands in her lap, fingers fiddling nervously together.

“Then what is it? Cos you haven’t called me Badger in over 24 hours now. Something is wrong.” She implored at you.

“I know you don’t like it, so I thought it would just be easier if you didn’t have to tell me and it be all awkward.” She waited a moment, hoping you would meet her eyes. When that was apparently not going to happen, she lifted your chin up with a finger.

“Who told you I don’t like being called Badger?” She asked sternly. Just like the rest of the day, you misunderstood her emotions – thinking she was angry at you for figuring out her secret.

“N-no one.” You croaked out, trying desperately not to cry.

“Mi amor, who told you I don’t like being called Badger?” She asked again, this time her voice a lot calmer.

“It was something that Alexia had said yesterday. She said that Olga called her Lex a few times and it really got on her nerves, but it took her a while for her to say something. And she also said that if someone called her Patella as a nickname, she’d go insane. And it just got me thinking that what if you don’t like being called Badger, ‘cos it’s a nickname based on someone saying your name wrong, but you didn’t want to say anything and I-” you were cut off by soft lips pressing against yours. You hummed throatily as Ona’s hands twisted into your hair, you grip on her waist tightening, pulling her closer to you.

“Don’t think ever again.” She said as you parted, her breath fanning across your face, drowning you in her scent. You must have looked confused, even with your eyes shut. “You said all of this was because you starting thinking. So, don’t ever think again.” You chuckled, pulling her back to you, your lips moulding together perfectly. “You are mi amor. And I am your Badger,” she mumbled between kisses.

“My Badger.” You agreed, shifting yourself underneath her.

“Recuérdame mañana que mate a Alexia por plantar esa estúpida idea en tu cabeza.” She grumbled as you pulled on top of you again.

“Whatever you say,” you started to suck a hicky into her neck. You pulled back slightly so you could see her face. “Badger.” Her kilowatt smile was all the confirmation you needed that Ona really did like being called Badger.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

[alotofpockets]

Babies & aunties | Mary Earps x Pregnant!Reader

Where you're pregnant with twins, and Alessia and Ella are overjoyed to become aunts

A/n: thank you @woso-soso & @wosoamazing for your ideas on this one!

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

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Your wife always dealt with pressure well, in her line of work there really was no other way to go. Penalty shoot outs, game-saving dives, and fighting for the trophies. The news of becoming a mother was on a whole different level, no trophy could ever beat that. 

The two of you had been trying for a baby for a couple months before you had gotten the good news. You had been over the moon that it had worked so soon, and that you were on the journey to motherhood with the love of your life.

You kept the news to yourselves for a bit, wanting to share the moment with each other first. Mary had been absolutely amazing, she was there for you during your morning sickness, food cravings, high emotions, and tiredness. You could not have asked for a better partner through the first trimester of your pregnancy. 

After your ultrasound, you had planned to start telling people. Never did you expect that you would be the ones surprised at the ultrasound. The doctor said it was clear as day, you were pregnant with twins. 

When you got back home from the doctor’s office the two of you sat in the nursery room revising all the ideas you had to make the room work for two babies, while you were both overjoyed that two little babies would be joining your family.

With the ultrasound showing the two little beans, a name you started fondly calling the babies ,it was time to tell your family and friends. Everyone was so happy for the both of you, knowing how badly you wanted to start a family together. Nothing beat the enthusiasm of Mary’s United and England teammates Alessia and Ella. The pair was over the moon with the news and could not wait to be aunties to the babies. 

The next few weeks you were getting stuff together for the little beans their nursery. Which consisted of you telling Mary what you wanted, and her getting and assembling it. Mary did it all happily while you lovingly watched her from the rocking chair that she has also assembled.

You wanted the gender of the babies to be a surprise for the both of you until the gender reveal party. So, at your next check up, you asked the doctor’s to put the results in an envelope. Mary’s mother was the one getting everything ready for the gender reveal party, so she was the only one that knew the genders of the babies.

Julie worked out your ideas to perfection. In the middle of your backyard stood a small football goal decorated with pink and blue tassels, along with a “pink vs blue” banner. Tables were filled with fun games to guess the genders, and names of the babies, and lots of pink and blue coloured food.

“Alright, everybody gather around!” Mary announced as you were getting ready for the actual gender reveal part of the gender reveal party. Your friends and family surrounded you as you stood in front of the football goal in the yard. 

“Thank you all for coming and showing so much love for these little beans already. We truly appreciate each and everyone of you coming out here today.” You say while looking out at the people who filled your backyard.

“Who’s ready to find out what we’re having?” Everyone cheered. “So are we! We have two mini footballs, one for each baby, pink for a girl and blue for a boy.” Mary looked over to you. “Are you ready, darling?” You nod and smile. Mary kisses your cheek before she turns to the rest of the people again. “Can we get a countdown from five?”

“Five, four, three, two, one!” Everyone counted down loudly. On one you both let go of the footballs and kicked them towards the crowd. Both balls exploded in pink powder. Mary looks at you with a face of excitement. “We’re having two girls!” You hug her tight with a face of joy. 

When Ella and Alessia run up and start jumping around with Mary to celebrate the news you step aside and let them have their moment. You watched them huddle and jump around while standing with your friends. It was the perfect moment.

----- maryearps and y/n_y/l/n just posted

maryearps: Today we found out what we're having! Two baby girls💗

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The rest of your pregnancy went smoothly. You had everything ready for the little beans, and were very impatiently waiting for the moment you could hold them in your arms. 

Ella and Alessia were over all the time, they loved talking to the little beans and had even started a new instagram account called Tooney Russo and the Beans, where they were posting everything related to the beans arrival and were planning to post babies and auntie pictures in the future. You thought it was absolutely adorable. They were almost as excited for the babies to be here, as you and Mary were.

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tooney_russo_and_the_beans just posted to their story

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Then the moment was finally there, you got to hold your little beans for the first time. They were absolutely perfect. Their little fingers and toes, tiny noses, squishy cheeks. You were over the moon, you never thought you could fall in love so quickly. Of course you had loved them from the moment you knew you were pregnant, but holding them like this gave a whole new meaning to the word.

Mary was with you the whole time, and the two of you just could not keep your eyes off your little baby girls. The rest of the afternoon you spend in the hospital room as a family of four, with the occasional family and friends visit, to meet the little beans.

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y/n_y/l/n and maryearps just posted

y/n_y/l/n: Our little beans. Currently feeling like the luckiest mama

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💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[moonystoes]

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lotsofcelebs]

Leah Williamson & Mary Earps

[effervescentdragon]

talk to me of what this game still means throughout these northern lands

or: Manchester United wins FA Cup Final against Manchester City, 25/05/24.

sources: x x x x x

[pacifierbby]

~ POV

walking around London

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

tag list ~ here

warnings ~ masons being cute and fluffy kissing and hugging

pairing ~ mason x you

you and Mase will be constantly holding hands walking around London

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

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

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

side glances when masons looking away.

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

going to every sight seeing view

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

saying i love yous

[maiba]

🏆❤👹

[fitfootballers]

Mason Mount 🔥

[tracksuitlesbian]

[existence-is-overrated]

clocked them 10mins into the vid x

[sturniluvr]

FA cup champ

Mason Mount x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: some strong language, maybe some spelling mistakes, nothing other than that, lmk if I missed anything.

requested: yes/no

summary: Y/N surprises Mason at the FA cup final

A/N: shoutout to my fave mase acc on tumblr @mountttmase for convincing me to write this❤️enjoy everyone!🫶🏻

❗️semi proof-read❗️

Today was the day, May 25th, FA cup final, Manchester derby. Y/N was nervous to say the least, having grown up a Man United fan, knowing the boys were playing arguably one of the team's biggest rivals made those nerves worse. She wanted nothing more than her club to win, especially for her boyfriend of 3 years, Mason Mount. 

She was currently in the car with Mason’s family on the way to Wembley, next to the Y/H/C woman sat Summer, who was asleep in her car seat and on the other side of the sleeping girl was Jaz, Mase’s older sister and Lewis sat behind the three girls with a sleeping Mila next to him. Y/N felt a tap on her shoulder, she looked behind at Lewis. He leaned forward as much as the seat belt would allow him. 

“Does he know you’re coming?” The older man asked. She shook her head. 

“No, I told him I had to work, but I managed to convince my manager to let me have today off, thought it’d be a nice surprise.” She replied. He nodded his head in agreement and sat back in his seat. 

*little time skip*  

They had arrived at Wembley and Y/N had the job of waking summer up while Jaz quickly changed Mila’s nappy before they all headed into the stadium. 

“Sum, wake up sweetheart. We’re here.” She whispered softly to the little girl and summer stirred in her car seat. She opened her eyes and held her arms out to her auntie. Y/N picked her up out her car seat and rested the girl on her hip until she was more awake and wanted to walk. 

The adults had collectively agreed to get some food first before heading into the stadium since everyone was hungry and they were earlier than expected so they found a little restaurant up the road from the stadium and they made their way to the restaurant and had some delicious food. 

*around 2:30* 

After they finished their food, they made their way back to the stadium and headed up the stairs. As she walked up the stairs to the entrance of the stadium, all she wanted to do was go and wait for Mason to arrive but she had to stop herself so she didn’t ruin the surprise.  

“You excited to see uncle Masey?” Y/N asked summer who was holding her hand. She looked up and nodded enthusiastically with a smile on her face and a skip in her step knowing she was soon going to see her uncle. 

*time skip to kick off* 

She watched as the teams made their way out of the tunnel, she smiled at the sight of her childhood team, on the pitch ready to play and win the FA cup. Y/N and Lewis leaned forward in their seats as the whistle blew for kick off and watched intently. 

30th minute

She cheered with the United fans as Garnacho tapped the ball into the net, scoring the first goal of the match. She certainly started feeling more confident as she watched the reds play with all they could give. 

39th minute

She bit her nails as she watched Bruno beautifully pass to Kobbie and Mainoo kicked it into the back of the net, making the score 2-0 to United before half time, she shot up and cheered once again, feeling pride fill her body at how well her team was doing. 

90+2 minute

She clapped and smiled as Mase made his way onto the pitch being subbed on alongside Lindelof for McTominay and Garnacho. She was silently praying that city wouldn’t not score again and cause the match to go to extra time, she was too nervous for that. Next to the woman, she heard chants of ‘Masey’ coming from Summer. She smiled at the young girl and picked her up and rested her on her hips so that she had a slightly better view of the game. 

*time skip to full time*  

She let out a cheer with and gently jumped up and down with summer still on her hip. Man United had won the FA cup!! She was beaming with pride for Mase and her team, she was so proud of them all.  

She already had tears in her eyes from the sight of Mase lifting the trophy with the biggest grin on his face, reaching from ear to ear and his pearly whites on show, now she was crying even more seeing her team lift the trophy behind the FA cup winner banner and confetti and champagne covering them all head to toe. She physically couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. She put summer down and quickly wiped her eyes before they headed down to the pitch, she could finally see her boy and tell him just how proud she was.  

*on the pitch*  

The players had now spread out across the pitch heading to their respective families and friends. Her Y/E/C eyes landed on the love of her life, who she’d been dying to see all day. Before anyone could catch her, summer bolted towards her uncle Masey.  

“MASEY!” Summer screamed out as she ran towards him. He turned around and smiled at the sight of his niece, he opened his arms and picked her up and spun her around before sitting her on his hip. 

“Hey sweetheart, you okay?” Mason spoke softly to her. Summer nodded and smiled at him.  

Y/N stayed behind slightly to give Mason a moment with his family. She watched with a soft smile as Mason passed Summer over to Jaz so he could hug everyone else.

“There’s someone here darling.” Debbie whispered in his ear as she hugged him. The 25 year old looked around and his brown eyes locked with the Y/E/C he fell in love with 3 years ago. He made a beeline for his girl and wrapped his arms around Y/N’s torso and lifted her off the ground, she instantly wrapped her arms around his neck, placing kisses all over his face, the last one being his lips, he deepened the kiss ever so slightly and his hands made home on her hips. 

She looked up at him with a breathtaking smile, one that he immediately reciprocated. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you mase!” The woman exclaimed. He pulled her back in for another hug. One hand cupping the back of her head and the other resting on her back, he rested his head in the crook of her neck, planting sporadic kisses to her neck.  

“Thank you, baby. I’m so glad we won!” He replied, voice slightly watery with emotion. 

He lifted his head up to look at the love of his life and he smiled at her before placing a final kiss on his favourite pair of lips. It finally set in that his girl was here and not at work like she said she would be today. He looked down at Y/N and squeezed her waist slightly. 

“I thought you had work anyway cheeky. I thought your asshole of a manager wouldn’t give you the day off?” He spoke with a confused tone, Y/N let out a little laugh at the sight of her boyfriend looking like a confused puppy. 

“I managed to convince him to give me the day off, so I thought I’d surprise you.” she replied, smiling up at her winner. 

“Cheeky.” Mase chuckled, slapping her butt gently. “But thank you darling, it means the world to me for you to be here with my family” he added on, still smiling, his cheeks had started to hurt from all the smiling he’d done in the last hour. 

Interrupting their moment, Rasmus ran over to the couple, he gave Y/N a quick hug as the older woman congratulated him. 

“We gotta get going to the after party soon mase, you coming Y/N/N?” The younger man spoke with excitement in his voice.  

“Mase we gotta get to Monaco for the Grand Prix.” she spoke looking between the two footballers.  

“Love, the race isn’t until 3 we’ll be able to fly tomorrow morning and make it for the race.” Mason reassured the woman.  

“Come on Y/N let’s have a party!” Rasmus spoke in a sing song tone causing her to laugh at him. 

“What do you say baby?” Mase looked at the girl for confirmation, she threw her head back dramatically sighing.  

“Fuck it, why not.” She replied laughing as the boys cheered and wrapped their arms around her shoulders. 

“Jaz, Lew, you coming to the after party?” The siblings nodded almost immediately.  

“Mum? Dad? You coming?” Jaz looked between her parents. 

“No it’s okay, we’ll get the girls home and in bed, you kids go have fun!” Tony replied, smiling at the younger adults. Jaz passed summer to Debbie and Tony already had Mila in his arms, they left with the young girls, and the adults all made travel arrangements to get to the after party. Y/N, Lewis and Jaz got an uber and Mason and Rasmus made their way to the party on the team coach.  

They all danced the entire night. Y/N and Mason being slightly more conscious with drinking than Rasmus as they had to travel the next morning. They all laughed at Rasmus singing Abba. Y/N made a mental note to message the younger man in the morning to see how he was feeling knowing he’d he hungover. 

[helen-with-an-a]

The object that stood in the way of a World Cup

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

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

Ona Batlle x Reader

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

Word count: 3.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then it all came crashing down.

November 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But everything wasn’t fine.

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s wrong, Oni?” You asked again.

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

“This being…?” You trailed off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[alotofpockets]

Ona Batlle at Man United Appreciation

Request a player | @totaly-obsessed

[purple-afternoon]