#and not the ones that are easy to break up by refs and players

[lunar-racing]

I didn’t watch the Devils game bc I had some AP Chem stuff due but uh- What the fuck do you mean there’s a point in the game where every player on the ice got into a fight- and then the refs put 1 person in each penalty box and the rest of them in the change room…

I DO SCHOOL WORK FOR ONE NIGHT WITHOUT HOCKEY AND THIS IS WHAT HAPPENED-

If anyone has anymore details abt this I’d love to know cause what the fuck happened-

[jflemings]

— red stars

pairing: caroline harvey x woso!reader

synopsis: you send yourself to the olympics with a perfect game under your belt, and caroline is there to witness it.

warnings: none!

a/n: yall….. i have been sucked in 🌝 i also realised after i finished writing that nwsl players don’t give away their jerseys, so just pretend they do for the sake of the fic.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🎰 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

caroline keeps her hands tucked in her pockets as she walks into the stadium. she’s careful not to bump into anybody as she makes her way to the friends and family section, keeping her hat securely on her head. she shares polite smiles with the other families and is quick to find her seat, double checking the number before sitting down and checking her phone.

she attempts to work the dead feeling out of her legs by massaging her thighs through her jeans. the almost three hour drive from madison to bridgeview really took it out of her, and the coffee that she’d skulled before coming into the stadium hadn’t kicked in yet.

she opens up her conversation with you to send you a text letting you know that she’s sat in her seat, and that she couldn’t wait to see you play. knowing that you weren’t going to respond anytime soon, she switched apps and scrolled through instagram instead.

part of her felt a little out of place. she’d decided to come alone to support you before you jetted off to france for the olympics, but now she kind of wished she had taken laila up on her offer to come. it wasn’t often that she actually got to come to your games, especially now that she had gained a bit of a fanbase, so she hadn’t had the opportunity to meet any of your teammates families or friends. it was weird being surrounded by people who saw eachother semi-regularly and she felt kind of awkward once she realised that she was the only one not caught up in a conversation.

she’s in her own little world until both teams walk out of the tunnel. the crowd cheers at the sight and she stands to clap along with them.

spotting you is relatively easy, the number fourteen on your back and your last name in bold block letter’s immediately drawing her attention. she catches your eye as you line up, grinning and waving to you when she sees you watching her with a twinkle.

after the anthem she winks and sits back down, watching you and your teammates intently as you also get to your positions. her eyes stay trained on you on the wing, the determined look on your face only making her more excited.

the first half escalates quickly with a player from the opposition earning a yellow fifteen minutes in. it sets the tone for the game: fast paced and a little aggressive.

it’s a perfect pass and mallory’s even more perfect timing that bags you an assist at the twenty minute mark. your teammate enthusiastically high-fives you and wraps an arm around you before the two of you move back into position, and kk can tell that a fire has been lit inside of you.

the half continues in chicago’s favour. the other team have opportunities but due to alyssa’s safe hands, none of them get past her. a corner kick in their favour almost breaks the deadlock and for a moment you think they’re going to score, but a red stars defender clears it and keeps the goal safe, allowing you to run back up your half of the pitch.

your first goal happens right before half time. you’re running parallel to mallory, keeping up with her pace and keeping an eye on where she’s going to pass, before she chips it to you. you slot it in past the goal keeper’s finger’s and immediately jump in celebration, pointing to the crowd of fans as your teammates train you joyfully.

the second half is when the other team decide to try to slow you down. you go down due to a mistimed tackle in the penalty box, clutching your ankle as you get on your knees; you stand slowly and shake the adrenaline out just as the ref awards a penalty kick to the red stars.

from the stands, kk holds her breath. she knows how much this penalty is going to mean to you after missing a crucial one in the world cup last year. you had called her after the game crying, saying how you should’ve made the shot and how it was stupid that you missed it when you spent hours upon hours practicing.

you were a perfectionist at heart, and knowing that you hadn’t perfectly executed the one thing you’d been trying so hard to get right absolutely broke her heart.

she bites her nails as she sees you take the ball off the ref.

you place the ball on the ground, before taking a deep breath and stepping back to take the kick. you’ve done this a million times before. you’ve trained yourself for this, on this very pitch, a million times before.

you know you want to go to the olympics with the perfect penalty under your belt.

you know that you’re not going to miss this shot.

one, two deep breaths. you pick your position, you lock in, and you pull back. you swing your leg with precision and release the breath you were holding as the ball gets off the ground.

the keeper goes right.

you’ve aimed left.

it’s the perfect shot, and the perfect finish.

the stands erupt. a sea of red and blue overtakes your vision as you take off running again, your yelling teammates not far behind. as you pass the section caroline’s in you turn your back and point to the fourteen, putting it proudly on display.

the game ends with a clean sheet, a brace and assist, and a perfect send off to your first olympics.

the adrenaline is still pumping through you as you make your rounds, clapping and waving to fans, signing posters and jerseys and taking as many photos as you can.

mallory throws an arm around your shoulders “look at you, little superstar” she praises as she punches your cheeks playfully “a brace and an assist! that giddy energy from this week did you a bit of good, i see”

you nod “i guess” you shrug, fighting the urge to smile as you subtly look towards the stands. mallory stops the both of you and faces you so that her back is to the crowd.

“you’re coming out with us, right? we were going to anyway but now we’ve really got something to celebrate” she says with a smile on her face.

you play with the hem of your jersey and shrug again, looking over her shoulder. trying to suppress the smile beginning to grow on your face turns out to be useless when you see kk waiting for you. her hands are tucked into the pockets of her soft shorts as she makes sure she’s out of the way for other friends and family members making their way out of the stands; she smiles when you catch her eye.

“i’ve actually already got plans” you say to your teammate whilst keeping your eyes on your girlfriend. you look to mallory “next time though, i promise”

she cocks a brow and looks in the direction your eyes have been glued to, smiling when she sees caroline. she nods her head and waves before turning back to you “i see” she draws out, a smirk playing on her lips.

a blush starts to bloom across your cheeks “yeah” you bite the inside of your lip. before you can say anything else, or even begin to walk away, a hand is giving you a firm slap on your shoulder. you holt forward out of surprise just as alyssa comes to stand next to you.

“are you coming out?” she asks

mallory jumps in before you can say anything “she’s got plans” she says teasingly, nodding her head back in the direction of your ever so patient girlfriend “caroline’s come to visit”

alyssa half smiles “right” she says whilst nodding “well, tell her we say hi”

“yes, i will” you half groan before shaking their hands off “as much as i love you guys, i’m not going to leave her standing there by herself any longer”

alyssa and mallory wave you off with sly smiles and teasing grins before they meet up with their own friends and family, you and caroline quickly becoming a second thought.

you make your way over to kk, cautious of the eyes that you know are trailing your figure. it’s remarkable, really, that no one has recognised her or questioned why she’s here. the two of you have managed to keep your year and a half relationship a secret from the mass of detective level fans and the media and you were hoping that it was going to stay that way after this weekend.

it’s certainly not the first time she’s made the drive from her college to your club’s home stadium, but it is the first time since she gained rapid popularity from tiktok.

she untucks her hands from her pockets and folds them behind her back, smiling shyly as you approach.

“hey” you say shyly under her gaze. you have to resist the urge to fling your arms around her neck in a bear hug “was the game everything you hoped it would be?”

“and more” she says as she leans down slightly “my olympian”

you roll your eyes “says you, silver medalist”

caroline blushes and scratches her nose to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. “yeah, well, now it’s your turn”

“gold, baby. i’m bringing home gold”

she’s about to respond when a young girl shyly approaches the two of you. she’s dressed in this season’s home jersey with her hair in pigtails, a sign saying ‘I WANT TO BE LIKE Y/N WHEN I GROW UP’ in blue and red letters. her mum stands behind her, slowly pushing the girl towards you.

“go on” the mother whispers in her daughter’s ear.

the young girl’s brunette pony tail sways as she looks between her mother and you, her lip between her teeth. “excuse me y/n?” she says quietly, her eyes quickly darting between you and your girlfriend “can i please get a photo?”

you smile wide “of course you can!” you crouch down to her level “what’s your name?”

“faye” she says shyly.

“i like your sign faye. did your mum help you make it?”

she nods “she helped me put the glitter on, but i wrote it all by myself!”

kk steps aside and makes sure she’s fully out of the frame as the mother pulls out her phone. you make sure to have the biggest, most genuine smile plastered on your face as you pose with the young girl. in your peripheral vision you can see kk smiling just as big at the two of you, making your heart flutter.

after the photos are taken you let her shoulder go but stay at her level, making sure to look her in the eye “can i give you my jersey?” you ask with a smile.

a sunshine smile overtakes her face as she nods quickly. taking the hem of your shirt in your hands, you quickly pull it over your head and turn it the right way out before flattening it on your knee.

“do you have a pen?” you ask her mum.

“here” she says as she pulls one out of her back pocket “thought we’d bring one today, just incase”

“good thinking” kk says with a smile.

you sign the jersey and the poster easily, handing them both back to her “thank you both for coming! i hope you enjoyed the game”

“we did!” faye says excitedly “mum says we can come to more games next season!”

“well then, i’ll see you back here soon!”

faye and her mum bid you and caroline goodbye. you can’t take your eyes off of the young girl and the way she excitedly raves about her interaction with you, her pigtails swishing about as she hands the sign to her mother. you see her clutch your jersey to her chest and smile.

“i can’t believe i have that kind of an impact on young girls” you say breezily “i didn’t have many female athletes to latch onto growing up so to be that for young people is just amazing”

caroline places a hand on your bare shoulder, pulling you into her “i think you underestimate how good of a player and role model you actually are” she says lowly to you “i’m so lucky to know you”

you can’t help but roll your eyes as you begin to lead her towards the tunnel and back to the changerooms to get your stuff “i’m so lucky to know you” you pointedly say. you wrap an arm around kk’s waist once the two of you are far enough in the tunnel “your unwavering support is something i don’t take for granted. i hope you know that”

“we support eachother, babe. it’s just how this works” she mumbles against your temple as she places her lips onto your warm skin “plus y’know, seeing you with my birthdate on your back isn’t too bad either”

you still slightly and blush at being caught out. you didn’t think she’d really taken any notice of the number fourteen you wear, much less connect that it was because of her.

“oh yeah. don’t think that got past me” she says cockily, pulling you out of your rooted place “i knew as soon as you moved to the red stars that you did it for me, and i was just waiting for you to admit it”

“i didn’t think you clocked that” you mumble

“yeah, and i’m proud of it everyday”

[meazalykov]

invisible string theory

lena oberdorf x uswnt!lyon!reader

part one - part two - part three

summary: you're with her now, but you've known of her for longer than that.

warnings: long chapter since I have to split this up into three parts, changing things that happened irl just a tiny bit for the plot of this, google translated language.

the pathway of your career was never simple, or original. 

growing up in the states, you participated in many youth programs. sacrificing a chance at a normal childhood, you took the chance to fulfill your 5-year-old self's dream. 

before you know it, you’d grow up to be the best teenager in the country– in terms of soccer. 

just before going into high-school, you were called up for the usynt for the first time. your parents wanted to see you happy, so you were sent into homeschooling. 

it wasn’t easy leaving public-school. you barely had time for your non-soccer playing friends and eventually– you seemed to forget about them. your friends and teammates on your club and national teams were your new priority. 

breaking records on the national level, it seemed like the youth team was too easy for you. 

and then 2018 came along, when you were 16 years ol–  

well, not yet. just a day before your 16th birthday, in January 2018, you were having your debut on the uswnt. 

against denmark, you were thrown into the game in the 50th minute, not long after halftime. being an attacking midfielder, you were expected to contribute to any attack or opportunity given for you. 

playing with the current world champions intimidated you. your new mentor, christen press, noticed this when your leg and foot tapped against the grass as the both of you waited to get subbed in. 

“hey! you gotta relax.” christen whispers over the crowd, her tone stricter than usual which causes your leg to stop tapping.

a goal came from mallory pugh that same second, so you were distracted for a few seconds celebrating. 

luckily, this gave you enough time to take deep breaths.. something your sports therapist recommended for situations like this. 

“i will, sorry.” you quickly spoke after, moving your tongue to press on the inside of your cheek. you didn’t notice how nervous you could’ve looked from the outside. 

“you don’t need to apologize, you’ll do great i promise!” she patted your upper back a few times before the ref blew the whistle for the subs. 

after the whistle blew in the 93rd minute, you breathed a huge sigh of relief. most of your older teammates ran to your side to congratulate your contributions to the 5-1 win. 

1 goal and one assist on your senior team debut didn’t happen to players everyday, especially to newly 16 year olds.  

a year later, after 16 more caps, happy tears ran out of your eyes when your coach, jill, called you. 

this wasn’t too long after you made your professional club debut for sky blue fc, or what is now referred to as gotham fc. jill let you know that you were going to the world cup!

now being 17 years old, you were the youngest person on the uswnt roster to play in the women's world cup ever. 

being referred to as “baby blue” by the rest of the team, due to your age and the club you play for, they all made an effort to make sure that you had the best experience for your first world cup. 

you attached yourself to christen, megan, alex and tobin when it came down to needing mentors to guide you in france– and your closest friends mallory, tierna, and rose. 

in the football world, you’re treated like an adult. something you struggled with. 

your parents, siblings, and other relatives came to france to support you on your journey– but due to the everyday training (twice a day), media days, strict meal plans, and mental stress before the tournament– you couldn’t see them at all. 

thankfully, they were able to see you along with the rest of the world during the group stages. 

against thailand, you scored a goal with three assists after you were substituted in the 60th minute. the 13-0 win gave you a rush that would last throughout the entire tournament.

you didn’t play against chile, or sweden. sitting on the bench and observing your team was enough for you though– they’ll call you whenever they need you. 

one moment throughout the tournament, there was a four day break between the group stages and the round of 16. 

adidas, the brand you chose to sign for, wanted to do a photoshoot with many internationals who signed their brand. the world cup is the only chance they’ll be able to do this collaboration– and with fifa's approval– over 20 players from different countries are there in a big conference room, ready to get their picture taken. 

standing in the red uswnt kit, you felt intimidated– unaware that you could’ve been the most intimidating. 

unfortunately for you, lindsey and you were the only americans at this photoshoot. you attached yourself to the blonde before she was pulled away by staff. this left you alone sitting on a random chair– at a random table. 

(i know giulia gwinn is signed for nike, but pretend she is signed to adidas for the plot)

“um– hey?” a girl your age– or maybe a bit older– with blonde hair stands in front of you with a confused, yet amused, expression. 

your eyebrows knit together as you respond back with a smile, “hi!” 

before the blonde could say anything, you turn your head to see a table card in the middle of the circle table. its labeled under germany so your eyes widened before you quickly stood up from your chair. 

“oh my goodness i’m sorry– i just found a random seat to sit in because i’m bored.” you talk a bit more than necessary, afraid that you did something disrespectful.

“its totally okay– i’ve been wandering around myself– i’m giulia!” she reaches her hand out, her german accent strong. 

you reach your hand out to meet hers, “i’m y/n. i’m with the us team.” 

giulia smiles, “i know– its hard to not notice the current world champs in the room.” 

you smile, your social anxiety fades as you engage in a conversation with the german footballer. 

“so when are you getting your pictures done?” giulia asks, wanting to continue the conversation with you. 

“oh i had my individuals and duo pictures with horan done earlier– i’m just waiting for the big group photo we have to take in–” you check your apple watch, “20 minutes.” 

“oh same!” giulia says, looking down at your apple watch too, seeing that it's 11:40am. 

“congratulations on getting on top of group B, i watched a little bit of the game during my lunch break yesterday!” you compliment as you cross your arms naturally. 

“thank you! it wasn’t easy.” giulia smiles.

“i feel you.” you relate. 

before you could talk to giulia more, another girl jogs up towards the two of you. 

she is wearing the same german kit as giulia, so you know she is her national teammate. she's taller than you, brunette, and you figure that she has short hair, since her hair was tied up in a small bun. 

the brunette looked very cute, but you brushed that thought aside. you have no idea what her name is and you need to put all of your focus on the world cup. 

“Da bist du ja! Ich habe dich gesucht, aber ich sehe, du hast einen neuen Freund gefunden.“ (There you are! I've been looking for you, but I see you've found a new friend.) the brunette nudges giulia’s shoulder, looking at her before looking at you with curiousity. 

“relax! this is y/n.” giulia waves her hand towards you. 

“hey.” is all you say, smiling at the cute girl. 

“hey.” she responds, smiling with the same cheeky smile you had. 

“wer ist das? sie ist süß” (who is that? she is cute) the brunette says to giulia. you didn’t understand german, but you could tell that she was asking a question through the tone of her voice.

giulia rolls her eyes before giggling, 

“this is y/n, like i told you. she plays for the united states.” giulia responds in english, which you’re grateful for. the girl looked you up and down for a few seconds before talking to giulia in german again.

over giulia’s shoulder, just 20 feet behind her, you see horan waving her hand for you to come to her. you look back at the german girls, hating to cut them off from their conversation. 

“sorry girls but i have to go. it was so nice meeting you giulia!” you quickly hug giulia, and she hugs you back tightly before you walk away. 

ten days later-- when jill called for you to warm up in the final against the netherlands, your legs felt like pencil lead that could’ve snapped in half. 

in the 75th minute, the united states were up by 2. however, the euro champions against you had a point to prove. they weren’t going to let themselves lose the world cup without a fight. 

tobin heath got injured during the semi-finals and doctors made it clear that she couldn’t play the full 90 minutes in the final, so jill made the last decision to call you up. 

every commentator on broadcasts, radio stations, and television networks were wondering why jill was putting you– a seventeen year old with no world cup experience– over people like carli lloyd who's on the bench.

you couldn’t make a single mistake on the pitch. your mind repeated that sentence back to you as you warmed up with sprints and stretches on the sidelines. 

five minutes go by and you’re on the pitch. focusing on the ball, you made beautiful passes to the forwards and midfielders around you.

when your eyes were on the ball, it was distracting from the neverending stadium around you. 

blocking out the noise of the crowd and the pressure of the moment, the 83rd minute comes along. krieger pushes the ball away from a dutch forward and launches the ball in the air towards rose lavelle, the girl who scored the second goal moments before. 

rose, being closed in by dutch defenders, passed the ball behind her to kelley o’hara. kelley saw you were free and there was open space between you and her, so she launched the ball towards you. 

this was your chance. usually, you never tried to seek personal glory. however, something changed when that ball hit your ivory colored cleat.

your feet take the ball towards the goal. veenendaal, the dutch goalkeeper, sets herself up in a ready position as she sees her defenders failing to take the ball from you. 

as you race closer to the goal, the crowd gets louder. the orange defenders close in but you dribble around them effortlessly, a skill uswnt fans love seeing from your younger self. 

an oranje defender hit your body from the left side but it was too late. your foot was angled on the left side of the ball, making the outside of your right foot clear to launch a powerful shot at the goal. 

veenendaal dived a second too late, the ball hit the lower corner of the net, going in for the third goal of the world cup final. 

you didn’t take a moment to process your thoughts before you lifted yourself off of the grass and sprinted towards the corner of the pitch, the same corner megan raphinoe celebrated the first goal at an hour before. 

your hands were spread out wide as tears threatened to pour out of your eyes in joy. the look of happiness that you’ve never felt until now. 

“Y/N L/N THE YOUNGEST GOALSCORER IN A WORLD CUP FINAL!!” commentators screamed on television broadcasts as your teammates, both on and off of the pitch, ran to you and squeezed your adrenaline filled body. 

one month later, you’re back home in new york city. the rush of winning the world cup is still fresh– along with your popularity in the community skyrocketing due to your amazing world cup campaign. 

you missed france already-- a little too much. the bond you’ve had with your uswnt teammates there was indescribable. 

the world cup distracted you from your unfortunate situation at gotham fc too. 

you’re an amazing player and the world cup showed the world that, but your coach at gotham seemed to have an agenda against you. 

at first, you didn’t think so. you arrived at gotham six months ago and started for the first few games in the NWSL season, but it seems like the coach forgot about you after. 

the defensive style of the squad is something you didn’t prefer as well. your play style fit well with an attacking style of play, but your coach didn’t want that. 

after being benched for the big game against san diego wave, you had enough. 

your agent and yourself filled a request in to transfer clubs or go on loan. 

luckily for you, many clubs all over the world wanted the best U17 player. 

when lyon came knocking on your door, you were happy to accept a year long loan deal. 

at first, moving across the atlantic scared you. your older sister, whos much older than you, agreed to live with you until you’re eighteen that january, but you’ll be far away. 

however, lyon is the best club in the world. you would never say no simply because you were “a little uncomfortable” with the move. oh well, football comes with uncomfortable events.  

the uncomfortable events paid off well, since you're a starter for the champions league final against wolfsburg.

twenty minutes in, and you nearly had an opportunity to have the first goal of the final.

the ball was at lucy bronze's feet. you were free to accept her pass and did so. before you could pass the ball up to sommer-- Alex popp knocked you from behind and you were on the grass.

you were okay, and you got up fine afterwards. in fact-- you felt like that knock helped your nerves from playing your first champion's league final at the age of 18.

minutes later, sakina had the ball which prompted you to push forward. ingrid engen from wolfsburg kept her eyes on you, since she knows how fast and precise you were with the ball.

sakina tried to pass the ball up to kumagai, but pernille harder takes the ball. luckily, you were able to side tackle the ball from her. she fell, but you were at the ball so no yellow card was needed.

the noise around you were coaches yelling and players shouting at others in many languages. french, german, swedish, dutch, you name it.

its 2020, and there was no crowd due to covid. the empty chairs made it easy for your voice to echo.

you were close to being fluent in french after living in lyon for the last year, and having sakina and selma as your closest friends, so you opted to yell out to your teammates in that language instead of english--where the whole pitch might understand you.

renard had the ball with no wolfsburg player coming at her, so she took her time deciding on who to pass the ball to.

her pass to buchanan was clean, but svenja huth takes the ball from lucy as she runs to the middle.

svenja tries to pass the ball but it goes back to the defender in navy blue, renard.

the tall defender launches the ball at you running towards the right side. cascarino and you swap places as your feet quickly get inside of the box with the ball.

your left foot shoots the ball but the ball hits off of repohl-- wolfsburg's goalkeeper's, foot. the ball bounces towards le sommer, who shot the ball into the goal at the 25th minute.

le sommer high-fived you and hugged you as you both ran back into your positions. all season at lyon, you've had the highest number of assist-- and the third highest amount of goals.

the french club hopes to buy you from gotham, if there is no issue. your contract does say that there is no buy option involved, but they hope to try.

in the 44th minute, everyone was struggling to get their feet onto the ball. you were standing directly in the middle outside of the box when the ball was bounced back to you.

your left foot, your non-dominant one, launches the ball into the goal at a lightening speed. ingrid and alex popp didn't have the chance to stop you before your teammates screamed in celebration.

"when it fell-- it fell kindly for the american international who scores the second goal for lyon." a commentator speaks to the television audience as you ran to hug majri.

before the end of halftime, as you're ready to head back out onto the pitch, you frowned in realization.

after this fun season, you'll head back to the united states with a coach who wants nothing to do with you. you tried to stay optimistic and think about everything after the final is over, but the end of the season is in 45 minutes plus extra time.

"y/n bébé, garde la tête haute, tu as déjà marqué" (y/n baby, keep your head up, you've already scored) cascarino says as she places her hands on your shoulders. you relax into her hands as your head turns to face her stressed facial expression.

"ce n'est pas ça, je ne veux juste pas te quitter après ça" (that's not it, i just don't want to leave you after this) you whisper. your head leans back onto cascarino's head as she sighs.

"garde espoir, Lyon est content de t'avoir ici. Peut-être trouveront-ils un arrangement avec ton club d'origine" (keep hope, Lyon is happy to have you here. Maybe they will find an arrangement with your original club) cascarino whispers before you both jog out to the pitch.

"maybe.." you whisper to yourself after cascarino jogs away from you.

nothing much happened after halftime started, until alex popp scores a header. you weren't too afraid, since lyon are still up by one, but it's anyones game with thirty minutes left.

subs were made in the sixty-first minute for wolfsburg, so you stand beside cascarino to talk to her. as you look ahead at ewa leaving the pitch, you spot a familiar face entering.

the girl with a determined look jog onto the pitch, and you continue to look at her as she scans around the field. your mind itches, you know you've seen this girl somewhere before.

as she turns around with her back from you, you see 5 oberdorf.

again, you have no idea on who she is. you haven't played against wolfsburg until now, so maybe you played against her national team before? you had no idea.

wolfsburg had more possession this time around. you made a few tackles and won a few duals, but the german club was hungry to score an equalizer.

lucy got the ball away from pernille and passed the ball up to you.

you ran with the ball up the field. you dribbled around ingrid and alex popp effortlessly and your next move was to pass up to le sommer who was free.

all you heard was sakina yell "derrière toi!" (behind you) before you saw someone's leg coming from under you. your first reaction was to jump as the persons leg tripped you onto the grass.

your arms stopped your head from hitting the ground, but you turned to see that it was "oberdorf" who side tackled you.

"that should've been a yellow." you groaned to yourself as you stood up and wiped the grass stains off of your navy blue shorts.

"it was all ball, so no." oberdorf said back. your head quickly turned to her as she smirked at you.

so she's german.. hm. you thought as you recongized the accent.

a few minutes later, as lucy was preparing to throw the ball in-- oberdorf marked you as she stood beside you, not giving you a chance to escape her defense.

"get off of me!" you quietly said when she tried to hold your arm.

"lena, mark her!" ingrid yelled out as you quickly moved back to where lucy might throw.

you were sweaty at this point, but not too tired. a goal before halftime was what you needed to recharge your motivation and energy.

"you aren't getting another goal passed me." oberdorf says quickly. you shake your head as you look at her. the audacity.

"who are you talking to?" you snap.

"you." she smirked.

"well, oberdorf-- if you look at the scoreboard, you guys need another goal to equal us." you say as you both push back with bouhaddi, lyon's goalkeeper, was ready to hit the ball up the pitch.

"my name is lena." she scoffs as you went to saying her last name instead of her first.

"well, lena. its nice to meet you." you look ahead to see bouhaddi's kick.

the ball goes up to cascarino who heads the ball over to kumagai. you ran closer to offer help away from popp, but lena is chasing you.

the japanese decided to kick it back to renard so you move back to your natural spot. oberdorf follows you since she is assigned to mark you.

"what do you mean its nice to meet me? you met me last year." the german comments.

your mind seems to ease at this, you know that you've met her somewhere, and its fortunate that lena knows.

after a few minutes, you couldn't respond to her since the game is heating up. lucy cleared the ball out a few times, which caused a bunch of throw ins to occur.

fridolina rolfo almost scored after kicking from outside of the box, but the ball came straight to you. your body turned quickly, so her shot deflected off of your back and away from a chance of goal.

"where did we meet?" you ask as you end up near her again, waiting to defend the ball away from a free kick for wolfsburg by their goal.

"the adidas photoshoot during the world cup." she quietly says.

your conversations were quiet, since the empty stadium could echo your voice loudly if you were loudly talking.

the free kick was cleared by renard, but being on wolfsburg side of the pitch made you concerned. if lyon kept this up, wolfsburg might equalize.

luckily, in the 87th minute, lyon had a corner kick.

the kick was taken and it landed at your foot. you shot the ball towards the left side of the goal but it deflected off of janssen's foot.

the deflected landed on the back foot of gunnarsdottir and landed in the goal for the third goal of the final.

the group hug was filled with shouts that echoed throughout the stadium. after hugging dottir, cascarino and sakina patted your back as they jumped up and down around you.

"three goal contributions! you are insane." sakina says with her strong French accent, you smile as the end of the game is nearing. wolfsburg will have to pull of a miracle to beat lyon now.

in the last minute of extra time, oberdorf had you marked again. remembering what she said earlier, you smirked as you looked at her tense body position.

"I might've not scored against you, but I did get another assist." you say.

lena looked towards you with a straight face before responding, "ha ha" sarcastically.

when the whistle blows, you run to selma bacha who was on the line ready to be subbed in. she held you tightly as you repeatedly yelled, "we did it! we did it!"

after ellie carpenter hugged you for your one goal and two assists, you saw lena pulling pernille into a quick side hug.

saying that you didn't look at lena differently than all of the other girls would've been a lie. you found her attractive, and you know she knows she's attractive. that smirk wasn't fooling anyone.

"hey, great game lena." you said as you quickly hugged her. playing all 90 minutes made you tired, but you were okay since you're a champion's league winner.

she hugged you back. not to be weird, but you liked the way she smelled.

"thank you. can I have your shirt later?" she asks. you smirk at the idea of her wanting to swap jerseys with you.

"sure, as long as I can have yours." your eyebrows knitted together as you put your hands on her shoulders. lena smiled through her sad eyes and nodded her head at you.

part two here

<3

[girlgenius1111]

one step forward and three steps back

warnings: blood, panic attack, self harm, relapse. seriously, if you are even slightly concerned that this could be triggering for you, don't read it.

Ingrid-fight.

The weeks following your breakdown were easier than you'd anticipated. You'd taken a couple weeks off, spending the time focusing on your mental health, at Alexia and Jona's insistence. The club told the media that you were taking time for your mental health, which mostly went over well. Some, however, thought the club was being too soft. They only saw you get a red card, and take weeks off from playing; it was a tantrum you were throwing, not taking time for yourself.

Your return game saw you in the starting lineup, along with Mapi and Alexia. Ingrid was still out, being careful with her leg. You were doing better, able to focus more on playing, as well as being significantly less reckless on the pitch. Your hand had healed, and it really should have been your game.

Unfortunately for you, though, was that the other team was desperate to win. Not that every team wasn't, but the dirty tackles coming in every other minute made it clear that they were on a mission. Still, you'd managed to stay out of trouble until it was almost the end of the game.

You were trying to beat a defender, one of the players that had been playing particularly roughly. Normally, you didn't mind this, never not up for a physical challenge. What you didn't appreciate, however, was the elbow thrown into your face, connecting directly with first your nose, and then your eye.

"Fucking hell," You cried out, hands flying to your face as the other girl took the ball. The whistle blew almost instantly, and she groaned. You were pissed. "What, did you think they added throwing elbows when you can't do your job into the rulebook?" You asked her, feeling blood beginning to stream steadily out of your nose.

Your teammates and the ref were still making their way over to you, and only some of them caught the girls response.

"Gonna need to take another few weeks off? Your nose probably needs a mental health break, huh?" She said condescendingly. Alexia and Mapi sped up at this, breaking into runs to get to you. Sure enough, no sooner had the words left her mouth, and you were taking your hands away from your nose, and giving her a harsh shove. She shoved back, and both of you had fists raised by the time you were separated.

Mapi wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you back. "Easy there, the ref will take care of it," she told you, as you fought against her grasp. You were annoyed, Mapi was normally down for a fight. Instead, she was speaking in soothing tones, her calm eyes meeting your wild ones.

"She said-"

"I know what she said, but your face is bleeding, so sit down and let the physios check you, bueno?" Mapi was pissed, but she could hear Alexia talking to the ref behind her, and felt that as much as she wanted to slap that stupid girl across the face, she was more helpful here, making you take a seat as the physios arrived.

With a huff, you relented, sitting down. The pain in your face was becoming harder to ignore, and you didn't know if you believed the guy when he told you your nose wasn't broken, only badly bruised.

"Feels fucking broken," you said, attempting to add some bite to your words. Instead, they came out all choked, and you realized you were about to cry.

Mapi put a hand on your shoulder, not used to this response. You normally didn't cry when you got hurt, and she realized the comment from the other girl had affected you more than you'd probably admit. Mapi made eye contact with the physio and shook her head slightly, He signaled to the bench for a sub.

"You said it wasn't broken!" you protested.

"No, but you should ice it. No reason to take any unnecessary risks." He told you, and you knew that he and Mapi were just aware that you were upset, not thinking that you really needed to go off. You were going to argue, when Alexia stepped up, fixing you with her general look of "do what they say or I'll yell." You weren't in the mood for any yelling, so you relented, stomping off to the sidelines, without another word to your teammates. You noticed with some satisfaction that the other girl had gotten a red.

You stalked off the pitch, heading for the locker room, and Ingrid fell into step beside you.

"Leave me alone." You told her, wanting to cry in peace. You weren't sure why you were so upset with that girl's comment, but you were.

"No," she responded, meeting your glare with a smile. "Not letting you break another hand." She joked, and you mumbled an insult under your breath. She ignored it, following you into the locker room and watching as you threw yourself down in front of your locker.

Ingrid brought over a towel and some ice, insistently holding them out to you. After you took them, wiping the blood off your face, and pressing the ice to your nose, she sat next to you.

"You looked upset out there." She remarked.

"Yeah well. Elbow to the face." You responded.

"It looked like she said something to you," Ingrid pressed. You paused, before deciding to tell Ingrid what she said. her response would tell you whether you were being dramatic or not. After you'd spoken, Ingrid's eyes narrowed.

"What a little bitch," she seethed, and you huffed out a laugh, that quickly turned into a sob. Ingrid looked at you, startled, before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, rubbing her hand up and down your arm.

"I don't know why I'm crying, it wasn't that bad. It was just mean and my nose hurts and I hate that stupid girl," you blubbered, and Ingrid held back a laugh.

"It's alright, y/n, you're allowed to be upset. It was mean. And it was about something that's sensitive to you, it makes sense why you're upset." She told you rationally. Ingrid had a way of speaking that made whatever she said make sense, instantly believable. You wiped the remaining tears off your face, before quietly thanking her. She squeezed your shoulders, and you both lapsed into silence.

You were impressed with Ingrid, for being able to make you feel better so fast. Ingrid was impressed with you, for expressing your feelings without her having to drag them out of you. It was clear that you were improving, and it filled her with relief. But for every step forward, there's always a step back. Or two.

-----

Mapi- panic.

You weren't really sure what had happened. One second, you were out with the team, celebrating a win in a club. It was a rare occasion for your captains [mostly Alexia], to agree to a night out in the middle of the season, so everyone had taken full advantage. You were dancing with Pina and Patri, surrounded by other people, when you felt it; the beginnings of panic starting to rise within you.

Maybe it was the crowded room, the lack of oxygen, the alcohol, or just a random fit of anxiety. Regardless of the reason, you were quickly growing more panicked. Without a word to either girl you were with, you had spun around and were pushing your way out of the crowd, off the dance floor. You broke free of the crowd, not processing anything happening around you. You still felt like the room was out of air though, so you headed for the door, stumbling slightly as you pushed your way out.

You leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. The air outside was cooler, more plentiful, yet you still couldn't seem to get enough into your body. You slid to the ground, pressing your hands to your face as you tried desperately to regain control. You couldn't hear much except for a faint ringing sound, and you felt completely untethered from the world.

Until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You jerked your head up to find Mapi's concerned face looking down at you. You relaxed slightly, knowing it wasn't a random stranger, putting your head back in your hands.

You felt Mapi take a seat next to you, her hand moving slowly up and down your back. She took one of your hands away from your face, and pressed it to her chest. You felt the steady rise and fall of her breaths, and forced yourself to match them. Your breaths were still stuttering, but they began to slow. You weren't sucking in air as desperately anymore, and the ringing in your ears was giving way to Mapi's gravelly voice.

"In and out, just like that," she said as you began to process her words. "Good, just take it slow. You're safe, I've got you," she told you, her voice and touch working well to calm you.

"Sorry," you gasped out, although you weren't really sure why you were apologizing.

"That's alright, pequeña, you can't help it." She replied. Once you were almost completely calm, she wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her. "What happened?" she asked, and you could hear the note of protection in her voice.

"Don't know. Too many people I think," you told her, resting your head against the wall behind you as you breathed in and out. "I'll be okay in a minute," you said.

"Take your time, I've got no where else to be," she said, resting her chin on your head.

It still struck you how much your friends cared for you. Even when you felt like they shouldn't, even when you knew it would be easier for them to give up on you, or let you handle it alone, they never did. And they never would, no matter what.

-----

Alexia - relapse.

You hadn't meant for it to happen- really. You'd been doing better. You were working with a therapist, and you'd started medication. It was clear that you desperately needed both of these things, and they were helping. You were naive to think that it would be only up from there though. Looking back, you'd realize the increase in dosage in your medication had just gone horribly wrong, the way that it could in rare cases. Having a clear reason didn't make what happened disappear though.

It had been a bad day. You'd woken up in an inexplicably bad mood. It had been a while since the familiar heavy cloud of gloom had settled over you, but as you headed to training, you felt it once again. The weight pushed down on you insistently, and as a result, you practiced worse. Your passes weren't connecting, shots weren't going in, and you kept tripping over your own feet.

This only made your mood worse, and by the time practice ended, you were incredibly frustrated with yourself. You avoided conversation, everyone discussing exciting plans for the night since you all had the day off tomorrow. You left the locker room quickly, missing the glances exchanged as you opened the door harder than necessary. You really should have expected to be stopped by your friends, but you were so in your head, you didn't hear them approaching. You jumped when Mapi placed a tattooed hand on your shoulder, halting you in your tracks.

When you turned to look at her, her face was pinched with concern, and you felt yourself grow more frustrated; you weren't supposed to be worrying your friends anymore, you were fine. Alexia stood behind her, watching you carefully. They both had yet to shower, still in their training kits, and you wondered if they were waiting so they could check on you.

"You alright pequeña?" Mapi asked. You nodded, sighing as both girls continued to look at you, clearly not believing you.

"Just a rough day." You told them.

"Do you want one of us to come home with you?" Alexia asked, keeping her voice low and soothing, expecting you to reject the idea. It was something they'd made you promise after that night. If you weren't feeling okay, you were supposed to tell them. You had yet to do this, with things improving, and you didn't want to start now. Admitting that you were having a bad day was one thing, but admitting that your thoughts were going dark was another. You were better, you were supposed to be better.

So, you convinced yourself that you'd be fine on your own, and you told Alexia as much. "No, I'm fine, I promise. I'm just gonna go home and relax." Your plans for the rest of the day consisted of laying in bed until you felt less like your every move was heavy.

The older girls gave you searching looks, but relented, reminding you that they were just a phone call away. They'd slowly begun to trust you again, since that night, trust you'd earned. They'd been able to see your improvements, and as a result, assumed that if you needed them, you'd tell them.

They were wrong.

------

In hindsight, maybe going home by yourself while in the midst of a depressive episode might not have been the best idea. Arriving home, you had tried to distract yourself, which was hard when you barely had the energy to sit upright. You settled yourself on your couch, not bothering to try to eat. You pulled your favorite blanket around your shoulders, settling in against the cushions, putting a random show on. You fell asleep watching TV, with the hopes that when you woke up, you'd feel better.

Instead, you woke up after the sun had set, feeling much worse. Your apartment was completely dark, although the curtains were wide open. You didn't bother with turning the lights on, staying in the same position on the couch as you began to spiral.

The deep sadness that had nestled it's way into the very core of your being this morning had given way some, to numbness. The numbness was normally where things went south. A combination of despair, but the inability to access those emotions choked you. You felt, so deeply, but you couldn't bring it to the surface. Instead, the shadows of these emotions danced just outside your grasp, leaving you desperate for something, anything, other than blank paralysis.

This was normally the point you turned to unhealthy coping mechanisms. Not often, and not for a while, but still, the once the thought popped into your head, you couldn't get rid of it. You knew it was the only thing that could bring you back into yourself, melt the freeze in your brain. The pain never failed at this; you knew it was bad, knew you shouldn't need to resort to this, but sitting there on your couch, you couldn't really think of any other option.

Robotically, you stood up from the couch, pausing as your phone fell to the ground off your lap. There were a few notifications you'd missed, and you stopped, opening them. All were from various teammates group chats. You ignored most of them, opening up the thread with Alexia, Mapi, and Ingrid. Your mind was clouded, focused on the task you had set your mind to, but still, a small part of it reminded you that you didn't have to do this. You had people that could help, would help, wanted to help.

You remembered, though, that they were out tonight. It was Ingrid and Mapi's anniversary, and the spaniard was taking Ingrid somewhere ridiculous and fancy. Alexia had some Barcelona related benefit. Realistically, you knew they'd all drop everything to come to you if you told them you needed them, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. One time wouldn't hurt. You could do it again, just this once. They'd never have to know.

-----

Pulling the blade away from your skin, you watched as blood trailed down your thigh. You didn't feel better, not like you normally did. The feelings had come rushing back to you after the first cut, but they didn't relinquish their grip on you as you continued. You felt desperate, filled with anguish, with no clear way to get rid of it.

Well, there was one way. As soon as you had that thought, you began to panic. You hadn't thought like this in a really long time, and it scared the hell out of you. It was like you were fighting between two parts of yourself, one that wanted you to be okay, and one that didn't care if you were okay, as long as you didn't feel like this anymore. The latter had won out, earlier. You were terrified that if you didn't do something, it would win again.

You forced yourself to breath, to think logically. You grabbed a towel from the shelf next to you. You leaned back against the wall, pressing it tightly against your leg. You just needed to do one thing at a time and everything would be okay. Reaching up to the bathroom counter, you grabbed your phone.

This was the hardest part. Harder than dragging the blade across your skin, harder than hiding your scars. Scars you'd reopened now. Your hand shook as you considered your options. Your mind had cleared slightly, self preservation instincts kicking in.

Ingrid and Mapi deserved a nice anniversary. Alexia hated social events. She'd probably tell you that you were doing her a favor if you called. Probably not when she heard why you called, but regardless.

Taking another breath, you clicked her contact, anxiety finding it's way into your gut.

"Hola, y/n." Alexia answered rather quickly, and you knew then that she hadn't really believed you earlier.

"Ale." You choked the word out, eyes suddenly full of tears. You didn't sound like yourself. Now that she was on the phone with you, the weight of what you'd done, and what you'd considered, was hitting you full force.

"Que paso?" Alexia asked, voice switching from casual to worried instantly. You could picture her expression, the one she got when she was giving someone instructions, or arguing with a ref, an intensity that made her the player that she was. It also made her the friend that she was. You tried to reply, but the words wouldn't come out of your mouth.

"Y/n, I need you to tell me what's happening, now" Alexia said almost frantically. The background of people talking had disappeared and you knew she was leaving, moving fast to get to you.

"I-... I need you," you responded finally, barely getting the words out. You were sucking in air faster now, tears falling freely.

"Okay, I'm coming to you now, nena. I'll be there in 10 minutes," Alexia told you. Her soft tone was one reserved for very few people; at that moment, you counted yourself very lucky that you were one of them. "Are you safe?" She asked, feeling like she already knew the answer.

You weren't really sure how to respond to that. The bleeding had stopped, so you weren't medically in danger. The blade was across the bathroom from you, and Alexia was on her way, so you doubted you'd be able to do any more damage. Your thoughts were still rather dire, but you were focusing on Alexia, on her voice, and the sound of her getting in her car and starting the engine.

"I'm not really sure," you settled on. The Catalan wasn't sure what to make of that response.

"Are you at home?"

"Si"

"Are you hurt?"

You paused, and she knew the answer. You heard the engine increasing in volume as she accelerated. "Pequeña, do you need an ambulance?" Alexia asked. The question made her nauseous but she forced herself to remain focused, to not get caught up in her feelings.

"No. Stopped bleeding." You replied, shutting your eyes tightly as she inhaled a sharp breath. You hated this, hated it so much.

"Okay, that's good, nena. Can you take a breath for me?" You did as she asked, realizing that you'd been holding in air. "Bien, muy bien. I'm almost there, okay? Stay on the phone with me."

"Okay," came your response, voice quiet. Neither of you spoke much after that, Alexia aware that you were struggling to reply, and relying on the sound of your breaths to assure her that you were alright.

She told you when she arrived, though, parking the car and jumping in the elevator. The call cut out while she was in there, which you'd been expecting. As you waited for her to enter the apartment, trusting that she'd use her spare key, you took in the sight in front of you. You didn't pull the towel away from your thigh, but you looked at the red staining the bath mat, the blade discarded where you'd thrown it. Pulling your attention from it, you focused on the door, hearing Alexia move hastily through your apartment.

She opened the door, and had to stifle a gasp. She'd tried to prepare herself, but nothing she could picture in her mind was like seeing it in person. You were sat against the wall, white blood stained towel pressed to your leg. You shorts were pulled up, revealing the scars on your other leg. You were wearing an old training shirt, and there was blood on that too. You were shaking slightly, eyes big and cheeks tearstained. What struck her most was how scared you looked.

"Oh, pequeña," she said, voice breaking. You dropped your gaze at her words, biting your lip to stop yourself from crying. She crouched down next to you, placing a hand on your cheek. She pressed her lips to your forehead, desperate to give you any comfort she could. "I'm here, I've got you. We'll take care of it, alright?" She said, words thick with emotion. You nodded shakily, and she stood back up, pulling the first aid kit out from under your sink. She took a seat back next to you, pausing.

"Can you take the towel off, nena?" Alexia asked. She didn't want to push you too hard, not sure how you'd respond. Wordlessly, you pulled it off your leg, wincing where it stuck to the skin. Alexia swallowed hard, the sight worse than she anticipated.

"Okay. I'm going to disinfect, and then I'm going to cover them." You nodded, still not having spoken. She pulled out a couple of alcohol wipes, opening 3 all at once. "This is gonna sting, tell me if you need a break, okay?" Again, you only nodded. Alexia worked fast, cleaning the wounds. You didn't ask for a break, but she noticed you flinch every so often, let out sharper exhales. She put anti-infection cream on before deciding against bandaids. Instead, she placed a piece of gauze on, wrapping it with medical adhesive tape.

You looked down, taking in the neatly wrapped area. It looked much better like this, much more manageable. Alexia stood to wash her hands. She dried them off, before turning back to you. You were staring at your red stained hands. She reached down, guiding you to stand, before pulling you to the sink, and helping you wash the blood off of them. You were docile under her grasp, blankly following her instructions. She led you out of the bathroom, quickly helping you change out of your blood stained clothes, and into clean ones. She pulled clothes out of your closet for herself, too, changing out of the suit she'd worn the the benefit. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and she'd rather be comfortable.

You found yourself sitting on the couch, like you had been before. This time though, the lights were on, and the room felt warm, inviting, as opposed to cold and lonely. Alexia moved around, keeping an eye on you as she made you a mug of tea. She sat down next to you, typing quickly on her phone before turning to you.

You felt better. Not great, not really even good, but better. You got a better grasp on your emotions, and began to connect the dots in your head. This had been so out of the blue. Normally, you only reached this point after weeks of being down. It was clear to you, now, that increasing your dosage of your meds had been a mistake. You'd always heard warnings, about how in rare cases an antidepressant could increase depression, thoughts of... the things you'd done. And the things you'd thought about doing. The explanation made you feel a little calmer.

Alexia, on the other hand, did not know what had happened. She was trying to give you some time to process, but she was going crazy. You hadn't spoken to her since she'd arrived, and you were sitting next to her, clearly deep in thought.

"Y/n, can you please tell me what you're thinking?" She finally asked. You startled slightly, before nodding your head. You explained your theory, of why what had happened happened.

"I just need to go back down on my meds. Or try a different one." Alexia felt relieved, but not completely. She could see you trying to convince yourself that, because there was a clear explanation, it was fine. You were fine. That this wasn't a big deal. She also could tell that you were trying not to let yourself get upset about it.

"I'm glad you understand why this happened, we can go see the psychiatrist tomorrow," she said, carefully contemplating her next words. "That was still really scary, nena."

"I'm so sorry, Ale. I'm so sorry you had to see that, that I called, that I messed up again and scared you," you rambled, clearly thinking she was talking about being scared herself. She had been terrified, but that's not what she meant.

"No, I meant for you. Having those thoughts must have been really frightening, especially out of the blue like that." Alexia replied, and you looked away. "Please, please, do not ever apologize for this. For any of it. I don't care that you scared me, I'm just glad you called. So glad, and so so proud of you, pequeña." She implored, watching carefully as you shook your head unconsciously.

"I messed up, you shouldn't be proud of me," was all you said. You looked like you were about to cry again, and Alexia couldn't resist pulling you into her arms. You let her, resting your head on her chest, blinking rapidly to try to stave off the tears.

"Well, I am proud of you. You called me. You wouldn't have done that a few months ago." She paused, thoughtful. She was trying to think of something that would relieve your guilt, your disappointment in yourself. "Relapses are part of recovery, y/n. It sucks, but they are. Relapsing doesn't make you weak, or a bad person. I know you feel like you should be better, but it's okay if you're not. Because of your medicine, or because of anything else. There's no timeline here, no requirements of being okay that you have to meet. All you need to do is try your best. And you are, I can tell. You asked for help when you needed it, and that is something to celebrate."

You looked up at her, the hopeful expression on your face making her heart clench. "I haven't let you down?" You asked quietly.

"No, nena. You haven't let anyone down. I was scared, yes, but all I feel right now is love for you, and pride for you." She said, determined for you to believe her. You were starting to. Her tone, her face, were so full of conviction, it was hard to do anything but listen.

"Thank you for coming so fast."

"I'll always come when you need me, as fast as I can." Her reply was almost instant. Alexia watched as you smiled weakly at her, before it dropped from your face, and tears welled in your eyes yet again. "What is it, pequeña," she wondered, rubbing a hand up and down your back. You leaned your head back against her, speaking into the fabric of her sweatshirt.

"I have to start all over again," you choked out.

Alexia sighed. "I know, I'm sorry. But we're all gonna be here again, okay? All of us, for every second."

They'd proven they'd be there for you, time and time again. Their commitment to being good friends, to taking care of you, was what made you believe that you were worth it. They were some of the best people you knew, and if they were going to be there every step of the way, the journey must be worth it.

-----

I hope you guys enjoyed :). Obviously a super heavy part. I'm not really sure what else to say, other than I hope that if you read this, it can bring you comfort in some way. Asking for help is terrifying, but it's so worth it, I promise. You deserve to feel good, and be happy.

[alchemistc]

goon | bucktommy | chapter four

check out the hockey glossary here (updated through chapter four)

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

credit to weatherwaxed for the truly horrendous and accurate hockey nickname for Tommy

read Chapter Four on ao3

Tommy’s ears are still ringing.

Kane’s been sent off for a game misconduct, and Diaz’s nose doesn’t seem to be too much worse for the wear, although he’s going to have a nasty shiner on both eyes by the time this game is through. Hen’s done what she can to patch them both up, while Nash talks them through how the hell they’re going to come back from a four goal deficit in twenty minutes, in Edmonton, with McDavid on a hot streak and Hyman one goal away from a hatty.

Tommy’s already done his part — with the Oilers up by three Kane had taken a run at Diaz, elbow angled just right to get him right beneath the bucket, square between his eyes, and Tommy had almost jumped the gun trying to get on the ice before anyone could skate off to give him the opportunity. No call, of course, just the jeers of eighteen thousand or so fans while McKinley screamed at the refs, but the whistle had given Nash the opportunity to throw Tommy out on the ice, and Knoblauch had left Kane out to take his lumps, no doubt certain a fight would just keep the momentum rolling.

Kane had gotten his licks. It’d been a fairly evenly matched fight, right up until Tommy had squirmed his way out from the sweater Kane had been attempting to trap him in and gone full tilt with just shoulder pads for his opponent to try to get leverage with.

His knuckles are split. He can still taste the blood in his mouth. He’s running hot, even now, knee jumping up and down with no conscious effort as he listens to coach try to rally them, but Edmonton had scored almost immediately after Kane had been sent off for chirping a ref after serving his five, and they’re short on momentum, at the moment. It’s been a span of rough days — losing at home to the two-seed in their division, ending the home winning streak. Two new guys slotted into the lineup post-trade deadline who haven’t had the time to build up the chemistry they need. Two back-to-backs with travel time in a week and a half.

They’re tired. They’re annoyed with each other. They keep fumbling the puck in the neutral zone and giving Edmonton the chance to skate it in without challenge. Tommy’d won the fight and it hadn’t rallied shit, and honestly? Tommy’s a little annoyed about that. Kane’s not an easy down, and Tommy’d had him on the ice taking a fist to the gut before stripes had managed to separate them.

This is the point in the game where Tommy cedes his ice time to the skill players — the speedsters, the play-makers, who are all staring at Nash right now like they’re thinking about the mini-bars in their hotel rooms.

Tommy is annoyed.

Nash ends his spiel with five minutes left to go in the intermission and disappears out into the hallway. That’s not abnormal — for all his quiet confidence he’s rarely a hype-man. The problem is right now no one is a fucking hype man.

Tommy shifts his weight, eyes on Diaz as Panikkar mumbles to himself next to him. The ice he’s had on his hand is already too warm to be doing much, and he’s halfway to standing up and spending the next four minutes trying to convince Hen that frozen packs of peas are actually miles better than her gel-packs when he notices one of the new guys shooting him a shifty look.

“Skinner’s taking chances behind the net because he thinks we won’t take advantage of them,” Tommy says, just loud enough to lower the volume of the sporadic chatter. “Hyman’s been nursing his left side all game from the stinger in the first, and they’re leaving gaps in coverage all over the ice. We’ve played this game before. We’ve won this game before.” Two weeks ago, on home ice, with the ability to make the last change and a team fully refreshed after the All-Star break, but Tommy doesn’t feel like that part is necessary to point out. “We’re passing too much, and we’re spinning our wheels for the perfect shot when we should be shooting everything at the net. We’re not gonna get a lucky fucking bounce if we’re all doing geometry on the move trying to find a lane.”

“Great points,” Ravi says, the bratty little tone of his voice betraying him, and Tommy presses his weight down on the bench in an effort not to pick a fight. “Or maybe they’re on three days of rest and a heater.”

Tommy rolls his tongue over his teeth, darts a glance around the room. Three minutes to puck drop, and the room is ready to pack it in. “Anyone else gonna tell me why I wasted a fight on this?” Across the room, Diaz smirks at him, and a few of them shift in their seats. “Or do we wanna put on our big boy pants and play out the next twenty minutes like they mean something?”

As far as rousing speeches go, it’s no St. Crispin’s. But McKinley’s admonished look shifts into that blank-faced zen stare he gets sometimes, right before he runs it up, and the new guys seem to have a bit more energy.

The time ticks down, and they head down the tunnel, and Tommy takes a seat on the bench, fully prepared for his little pep talk to fall on deaf ears.

Buckley shifts closer to Tommy as they all scoot down the bench, three shifts into the third. "McDavid's injured," he says unprompted, and Tommy shoots him a look from behind his visor. "Listen, I know it sounds crazy but he's weak on his left wing right now, and I have a plan."

"You tell Nash this plan?"

"Next time you're out with us, just get to the net."

"Buckley, if I'm out for more than thirty seconds we've already lost this game."

"Just get to the net, Kinard."

Tommy can't help the snotty little salute he sends Buck's way, but three minutes later he's chasing down Ravi, for once grateful that his speed is shit because it means he's never in danger of an offsides call when Panikkar skates the puck in past the blue line. Diaz and Buckley aren't far behind him, so Tommy shoulders his way past two Oilers and plants himself in front of the net.

And then they're passing.

This shits not gonna work. He can feel Skinner behind him, trying to pick out the puck between the bodies blocking his view, and Tommy takes a moment to watch Diaz circling, and Buckley quarterbacking from the top of the zone, Ravi searching out a lane while Buck tosses it back to Landstrom, who returns it to Buck. Near the top of the circles McDavid is skating into the passes and nursing his left side.

Shit.

Buck's right.

Tommy shifts to the other side of the crease. He's got Hyman unknowingly screening the left side of the net, and if Buck can get some separation between Nurse and McDavid --

The puck comes screaming in on Hyman's right, and Tommy shifts his stick, angles it and —

He doesn't even fucking care if it hits Hyman or his stick before it tips into the net over Skinner's shoulder. The crowd noise drops off, and Diaz and Buckley are speeding towards him.

The three of them go slamming into the boards, Diaz and Buckley shouting incomprehensibly, and then Ravi and Landstrom are there too. One of them has a hand on his bucket, shaking his head indiscriminately back and forth, and another one is yelling, and over on the bench, in the sudden deadening of the crowd noise, he can hear Donato and McKinley both celebrating, sticks smacking against the boards.

Tommy’s already halfway to the bench when Diaz and Buckley both have to circle back and send him to the front of their line for glove taps, and as he clambers back over the boards to greet a full barrage of back slaps and bucket-smacks, the refs actually have to come over and warn them to cool it with the celebration.

Buckley settles onto the bench next to him with a bright grin as Nash sends out their second line. “Told you,” he says, the sparkle in his eyes almost cartoonish against the harsh glare of the ice, and before Tommy can think of anything clever to say, he’s turning back to Diaz and the iPad.

---

Tie game, with three minutes left, and the Bobby Blender has somehow worked well enough to give them a chance to win this game. Tommy’s been out for maybe a minute and a half of the last fifteen. He’s feeling pretty fucking good about both the fight, and the dubiously moralizing speech he’d made, when McDavid intercepts a sloppy pass and suddenly has open ice between the blue line and the net.

There’s a certain noise, that happens in an arena, when a particular player has possession of the the puck and speed on his side. A sudden hush, the air being sucked out of the room, before a wild roar taken up by thousands upon thousands of voices, and as Buckley and Diaz chase him down Tommy’s waiting for the inevitable sound of the goal buzzer.

Chim pulls off a stunner of a poke check half a foot outside his crease and while McDavid spins into the turn behind the net, looking about ready to break his stick on the boards, Buckley and Diaz have caught Edmonton in a change — it’s a dumb change, Tommy has no idea why they’d chosen a breakaway as the moment to swap out players, but Diaz has a sheet of free ice to pass it off to McKinley, who is screaming down the ice.

Tommy checks the clock. A minute forty, and McKinley makes a clean break between two Oilers down the stretch, and then he’s free as a fucking bird, ten feet between him and the crease — five, and Skinner miscalculates exactly how many dekes McKinley has in him; the puck slides in five hole and Buckley and Diaz circle up while the entire bench explodes around Tommy.

---

Across the table, Buckley keeps shooting him looks. He’s grown familiar with some of Evan Buckley’s looks, over the past month or so, but he can’t quite parse this one. Before he can raise a brow, tilt his head, try to figure out exactly what the look had all been about, Buck shifts his gaze to Nash, up the table, telling a story about one of his fights when he’d played for the Stingrays.

Next to him, Eddie taps at his shoulder again, phone out to show him yet another comment thread about Tommy’s fight. This one seems to be slightly less horny than the last one, but he’s still not entirely sure he understands why Diaz hops on there so often.

Eddie chuckles when Tommy gets three comments down and rolls his eyes before returning to his food, and across the table, Buck turns to look at them both again. When he catches Tommy looking back, his eyes swivel away.

“No, hold on, listen to this one: Nards could drop me like he dropped Kane tonight and I’d still beg him to —.”

“—Okay,” Tommy interrupts, and Eddie cackles, fingers darting across his phones keyboard like he’s about to do something Josh Russo will absolutely take umbrage with.

“Telling you not to send that reply is just an exercise in futility, isn’t it?”

Eddie raises a brow, lips pursed while he continues to type. He hums. “Josh is gonna be pissed I’m not using my burner account right now. Muy inapropiado.”

Tommy’s not great with Spanish, but it’s not really a stretch to decipher that one. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Buckley leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, a look of consternation on his face, gaze focused intently on whatever story O’Connor is telling now.

“Don’t show it to me. I want to have the ability to claim ignorance.”

“Fine, but I’m tagging you in it.”

“The last thing I posted on there was three years ago.”

“Well, the fan who’s clinging to ‘Nards’ as your nickname is still gonna assume you saw it.” Eddie darts his gaze up with a grin. “Can I call you Cojones?”

“No,” Tommy tells him, but he can feel the lines around his mouth stretching almost to his ears as he shakes his head. “My nonna would rise from her grave to slap my wrist and yell stugotsa before she returned to her slumber.”

Buckley picks at his salad across the table, frown still prominent, and Tommy tries his hardest not to find the pout of his lower lip appealing. He’s not — they’re not — but he’s barely gone a night in his own bed without a phone call from Buck, who’d taken Tommy’s one call to him in the early morning hours before a meaningless exhibition game as blanket permission to spend an hour before sleeping every night talking Tommy’s ear off.

Tommy doesn’t hate it.

(Tommy is very aware that he’s treading a tight rope with too much slack, and can’t get a read on the end-game for the life of him.)

He’s intriguing , is the problem. Beyond the curls in his hair that always appear after twenty minutes tucked under his helmet, beyond the wine-dark splash of his birthmark, beyond the sea-glass gleam of his gaze and the gentle slope of his cheekbones, the frankly ridiculous cut of his Adonis belt and the ass that fills out his dress pants on game days, he is miles more interesting than any man Tommy’s met in years, and he knows plenty of interesting men. He knows more useless trivia than Tommy could fill a book with, and hires chefs to teach him how to make his chickpea pasta, has terrible opinions on Star Wars (according to Christopher Diaz), a codependent relationship with his partner. He’s absolutely obsessed with hockey lore, and on top of that he’s sweet, and kind, and so fucking generous with his time.

Tommy’d watched him spend forty-five minutes with fans in the parking lot outside their practice facility, signing pucks and sweaters and posters, talking to each individual kid like he’d known them for years, taking selfies and talking to parents.

He’d spent that evening under the hood of Diaz’ Chevelle and watching Eddie struggle to make any sense of his son’s homework while slyly derailing the conversation by mentioning Buck, and that night listening to Buck walk him through the history of invasive plants, with twenty minutes reserved for kudzu alone.

Tommy is, in all frankness, a little fucked. He’s well aware, at this point, how heterosexual all of Evan Buckley’s previous romantic entanglements have been, with the help of Christopher, and the fly-by from Eddie to bitch about the latest girl who’d apparently found his brush with death to be the most intriguing thing about him. (He still has the silvery wisp of the scar on his neck from where Kucherov’s blade had nicked him — half an inch to the left, a few millimeters deeper, and Buck would have bled out on the ice in front of eighteen-thousand horrified fans.)

Which isn’t even taking into account how insane Tommy would have to be to throw out twenty years of carefully curated lies about himself to even think about this in anything more than the abstract.

(And Buck is still young — Tommy’s almost out but Buck’s got years ahead of him, in a league so behind the times that Travis Dermott shooting a big fat fuck you to the commissioner by playing with colorful tape on his stick had been seen as an act of ballsy rebellion.)

It doesn’t stop him from thinking about the lingering glances, the flirty head tilts, the tone of Evan Buckley’s voice when he’s teasing.

“...hear her purr, now,” Eddie says beside him, with a smack to the meat of Tommy’s shoulder, and he glances up from his plate to find Buck staring at them both.

“Cool,” Buck says, a moment before he stands, dropping his napkin onto the table. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

Eddie, apparently not catching the tone of his voice, just grins at his friend. “Yeah, you need all the beauty sleep you can get.”

Coming from the man with deep purpling bruises blooming under both eyes, it doesn’t seem to hold much weight, but Buck scowls anyway, a moment before he turns to leave.

---

Tommy tosses and turns for an hour, unable to get comfortable, rolling over their next few opponents in his mind; thinking through the way Buck had looked at him in the moments before he’d walked out of the hotel restaurant; pondering the last thing his therapist had said to him, two weeks ago, when he’d been stuck on something he’d said to his father five years earlier; wincing every time he flexed his hand and was reminded of how sturdy Kane’s jaw was.

He’s contemplating popping one of the pain pills Hen had given him when he finally admits to himself exactly why he’s having trouble sleeping.

His phone has been dark since he passed Eddie’s door on the way to his own.

It’s not abnormal that he doesn’t talk to Buck, after a game on the road. It makes sense, in the context of the last few weeks — they’ve all been a little wired, with so little time between games, so much travel in between. They don’t have another game for three days and all of them should be resting, recuperating. Buckley’s played over twenty-five minutes the last two nights in a row, and less than twenty-four hours before that he’d played almost twenty-eight.

But the gentle hum of Buckley’s voice as it grew tired has become something of a white noise machine to Tommy, and... he’s missing it.

He rambles around his room for ten minutes, tosses a twenty on the desk when he finds the frozen peas he’d asked the concierge for chilling in the freezer of the mini-fridge, fluffs his pillows, contemplates trying to find a shitty rom com on his Netflix account.

When the peas sweat through the hand towel he’d wrapped them in, he tosses them back in the fridge and leaves a note for housekeeping and an extra twenty.

Tommy stares at the ceiling for another ten minutes before he picks up his phone and sends the most cliché text imaginable. You up?

The message glares back at him, mocking him, and Tommy contemplates unsending it while it sits unread for thirty seconds, a minute.

He’s hovering his finger over the message when he gets a read receipt.

A bubble pops up. Disappears.

Three minutes pass, and they appear again, and just as quickly disappear.

He’s just about to plug his phone back into his charger and call it a wash when the text comes through.

Sorry, talking to my sister. Get some sleep, man.

Buck follows it up with a gif of Stanley Hudson passed out in front of his desk, and Tommy takes it for the dismissal it is.

[cant-get-no-worse]

'Let's all take a moment to remember the somptuous ref manipulation/acting performance given by Luis Suarez on March 2017. This guy practically gave us the Remontada as much as Neymar 🙏'

Ciene you can't just drop this and not elaborate

Took me about a month but oh but anon, I will. A year ago, I watched a short documentary of a former French ref who analyzed the Remontada (heavily criticized for its refereeing decisions, dubious penalties given or not given, etc) and the external factors that made it happen. Absolutely fascinating stuff. I'll give you a bullet point resume of the doc here, since it's exclusively in French.

So here's why La Remontada isn't only the consequence 22 players' mentality and in-game performances for 90 minutes but rather a product of a boiling setting, wrong UEFA predictions, inexperienced referees, weak communication, experienced players' social manipulation on top of 22 minds in radical different headspaces.

Practical context.

February 14th, 2017. Paris Saint-Germain beats FC Barcelona 4-0 at the Parc des Princes in the first leg of the UCL's round of 16.

March 8th, 2017. FC Barcelona receives Paris Saint-Germain in the second leg of the UCL's round of 16.

2. Emotional context.

After the absolute "desastre" (Mundo Deportivo's front page) that was February, 14th, everyone, save a few Barça players and part of the culés, consider the second leg to be already done and over with. No team has ever broken a four goal difference in a UCL knockout stage and the sheer beating taken by Barça at the Parc stands fresh in everyone's minds as a chapter closed. PSG has secured its ticket into quarter-finals. Barça has fallen deeper and deeper since their 2015 treble.

March 6, 2017. Four PSG players do an at-the-time chill, but after the facts bit of a surreal interview where they talk about the up coming game and their feelings about it. One Marco Verratti notably jokingly asks the three others if, hypothetically speaking, they'd be happy if they lost the game 5 - 1 but still scrapped by to the Quarter Finals. 2 of them say they'd be fine with it. The 2 others, Verratti included, say they'd be disgusted having conceided that many goals; "You let 5 go in, people are gonna laugh at you."

3. UEFA's wrong predicitions and choices of referees.

Refereeing a knockout UCL game is the stuff of what the UEFA calls "elite" referees, the best of the best in Europe.

Following the 4 - 0 of the first leg, the UEFA, deeming like 80% of football world the encounter to be over, decides to appoint a up-and-coming referee in what is talked about as an "easy game" within the Federation. It's still a knockout round game, so there are still the bright stage lights, but the stakes are deemed to be nul because of the 4 - 0: the perfect stage to give a referee a safe space to grow experience and for the UEFA to test him in stress-free conditions.

4. The refereeing squad of March 8th, 2017.

Deniz Aytekin is the main referee of the game. He's got a solid reputation as the 2nd best German referee at the time and destined to replace the old first one.

This is his first ever UCL knockout round to referee.

The whole refereeing team consists of 5 guys. Four of them are FIFA referees, meaning they've already referee international games. One of them, which we'll call Double B., is however only a Bundesliga referee. He's never refereed a European game in his life, never been under such bright spotlights. He's there as an Additional assistant referee (AAR), meaning he's behind the goal line to observe if any incident occurs near the penalty area.

He's the weak link of this whole refereeing team.

5. A boiling setting.

Despite the heavy 4 - 0 slapping received by the home side in the first leg, the attendance on March 8th is 96,290. The stands are jam-packed, heated by Luis Enrique's words of the previous night in press conference:

But the audience must be a cauldron, before and during. There will be no need for a break. I don't ask them anything. But we will need a Camp Nou like a volcano.

The setting in which everything happens plays a key part in how the night's going to go. The chants, jeers, shouts, whistles and protests of almost a hundred thousand people are directed at the opposite players, but also and more importantly at this team of referees thrown onto the pitch. One of which has never refereed a European game, and another one who's experimenting his first UCL's knockout round.

This isn't me waxing some poetics by the way, but a factor to take into account when analyzing this match. New Zealand's famous haka, the ceremonial dance executed by the All Blacks at the beginning of each of their rugby match, has been critized for being a tool for the team to take psychological ascend over their opponents. This debate has taken place around a one minute ceremonial dance performed by fifteen players. Now picture ninety minutes of ceaseless jeering produced by a hundred thousand people all around you, constantly, added to the twenty-two players, their coaches, their staffs and substitutes on the pitch pressing you at every decision.

That's why UCL games require "elite referees", and that's why it was the mistake of UEFA to call up inadequately prepared referees to this game that changed everything.

6. First shake (3')

Luis Suarez (Barça, n°9) scores with his head. The 4 -0 is reduced to 3 - 0 (aggreg.) not even three minutes into the match. In the referee's head this match, which should've gone rather peacefully and without surprises, is already shaping up to be something else than a mere testing game.

More importantly, as players celebrate wildly, you can see Double B., the referee in charge of checking the ball has crossed the line and can indeed count as a goal, looking at an assistant referee rather than taking the decision himself. First tip of something wrong: you got a referee who's not assured enough in his own judgment to make a call.

At such a stage, a weakness in decision-making is unforgivable. It will prove true later.

7. Key fault (23')

That's Edinson Cavani (PSG, n°9) in white. That's Gerard Piqué, local angry catalan man (Barça, n°3) in blue.

Piqué just made an uncontrolled tackle from behind. Piqué, known for protesting at every corner, walks away without saying anything when Aytekin pulls a yellow card.

That's because he knows in any other circomstance and game, this action should've been a straight red.

This will prove key in the game's unfolding, acting as a pressure point on the referee's future decisions and players' behaviour.

8. Tense situations. Luis Suarez, local Karen. (23' - 45')

The next twenty minutes are a swarm of potential-penalties situations and complaints. Neymar falls in the penalty box but isn't given a penalty. Around the 30', Cavani takes a yellow for referee contesting: knowing Piqué's first tackle deserved a red, Cavani is outraged at the lack of yellow showed by Aytekin the second time Piqué fouls him, and reclaims one is showed. He's the one that takes the card instead, sending him furious.

Most notably, at around 35', Suarez almost goes to head-to-head challenge with Meunier over some action at a corner. He then proceeds to get up Aytekin's face, protesting over what seemingly is nothing.

It is nothing, but what Suarez is doing isn't innocent. Protesting and contesting every call the ref does is a behaviour he's known for, has got the referees wary of players like him, and not only because it's annoying: because over the length of 90 minutes and within such setting, a player constantly contesting and protesting calls can get in the head of lesser-accustomed referees.

The devil works hard, but Luis Suarez, appointed contester in chief, works harder. That too will prove true later, at the tipping point of the match.

9. Half time (45')

At half-time, the socre is 2 - 0, five yellow cards and four potential-penalty situations the ref has had to deal with. Players and referee squad go back to their locker rooms to a feverish stadium. At that point, a referee is redoing the first half of the game in his head: what Aytekin, and the players & staff, are seeing, are all the accumulation of non-given cards, given cards, tense non-penalty calls and contests. This piles up in everyone's mindset and creates a serie of pressure points in the unconscious - or conscious, in case of players like Luis Suarez, used to play on such chord - of everyone on that pitch.

This is very much not what the UEFA had planned for this team of referees.

9. Turning point. (50')

At the 50', Neymar (Barça, n°11) in blue is tripped by Meunier (PSG, n°12) in white inside the penalty area.

Aytekin doesn't give the penalty. Players protest. Aytekin consults the sidelines referee. A few seconds later, he gives the penalty for Barcelona.

This precise moment is where Aytekin loses the match and what explain the Remontada.

See, when this action happens, Aytekin is there (bottom, in yellow glow):

About 14m from the action: the most well-placed to judge what happened and make a call.

Up there (top of the screen, circled in red), you got Double B., the Bundesliga ref, who's the furthest from the action, the less experimented of the referee squad, who shouldn't referee at this level. As Aytekin says nothing, players start protesting, and start swarming up Double B. :

That's Luis Suarez at the left, by the way. I know, color me surprised. Local referee's-face-lurking man, just short of hand-written protest signs but not of hand movements to express his sheer outrage at the call, how could you not call this, there is foul, see, see, there's penalty, call it, how can you not see this.

So Suarez is once again complaining - with Rafinha (Barça, n°12) - but this time not to Aytekin: he's complaining to the very much non experienced Double B. And as Aytekin hasn't announced a penalty, what's Suarez doing? What he always does, what he's been doing since minute 0, probably been contesting nurses' opinion since he was out of his mother's womb. Provokes, simulates, criticizes, contests. There, he's pointing at the penalty area. Now what's Double B. doing? Not staying in his place, that's for sure: he walks on the pitch and towards Aytekin, forcing the latter to acknowledge the opinion of his AAR by going to him. Thing is, it's not like Double B.'s opinion was 100% his: he's inexperienced, far from the action, litteraly swarmed by Barça players telling him there's foul and penalty, and under the pressure of 90 thousand people currently yelling him the same thing.

So, instead of acting like as a proper AAR - an assistant referee - and letting the main ref make the right call from where Aytekin was the most well-placed to, or staying where he was and letting Ayteking know his opinion in the privacy of their headset, Double B. publicly backs Aytekin to a wall.

Seconds later, Aytekin points to the penalty spot and, amending his previous decision, gives the penalty. Messi (Barça, n°10) transforms it.

3 - 0.

Aytekin's just lost control of his referee team, and he's just lost control of the game.

10. Getting control back. (50' - 67')

So at that point, you have on your hands a match that has completely changed, a boiling situation escalated into prime Balkans 1912, a stadium on fire, players thinking they can do about anything, and a referee squad who starts taking decisions in your place.

Aytekin isn't an idiot. He's a ref with experience, no matter how little in the UCL. He knows he has to take back the upper hand in this game, or it's going to be hell. When a ref has to tell others something, he does this through his headset: this is what Aytekin must have done after the 50' minute, following the previous incindent. He most certainly has send a message to his assistant refs and linesmen, reminding them of how it worked: they have authority in the designed zones they're astrained to, but he remains the main ref and the one to make a call elsewhere.

This reminder of hierarchy is not without incidence on the follow up.

In the following minutes, Aytekin refuses to give penalty to Neymar when he falls in the box.

At 62', Cavani scores, bringing hope to everyone on PSG's side, but also allowing the referees to breathe: this game might finally fall back on its feet. At 67', Aytekin immediately calls Suarez's bluff when he dives into the penalty box and gives him a yellow. You can visibly see Aytekin regaining confidence in his own judgments and taking back the prevalence in calls. Everything is finally resolving itself.

Is it, though?

Two issues.

we're at the 67' minute. This is the eight yellow card showed by Aytekin. Amongst referee, there's a sort of implicit accord that beyond five yellow cards, you should start putting reds, to take back control of the game. A red makes all your over-excited players stand still.

minutes pass, and soon enough we're entering the 80th. This match is a high-intensity one, both mentality as we've detailed extensively, but also physically. It's back and forth all the time for Aytekin, who's the only referee constantly running all around the pitch with the players.

Eventually, Aytekin pays this physical intensity, and this reestablishment of hierarchy within the referee squad.

11. Fucking up. (85')

Di Maria (PSG, n°11) goes back for a speedy counter-attack towards Barcelona's goals; he's fouled inside the penalty area by Mascherano (Barça, n°14).

Highlighted in yellow, the other assistant referee.

Highlighted absolutely nowhere to be seen, Aytekin.

Aytekin is too far away, he's been running around for almost ninety minutes, he's worn out. So for once, the most well-placed referee to make the call for this action is the Assistant Referee.

Slight issue there: this assistant referee is part of the squad that's been put back into place some twenty minutes ago by Aytekin over an almost point-by-point similar situation happening on the other side of the pitch. He's heard his colleagues and himself get told that in such cases, it's Aytekin who gets the final call. Problem is, it should indeed be Aytekin to make the final call, but only if Aytekin is in a position to call anything: this isn't the case here. The Assistant is utterly alone and the closest to the action. He's the one who has now a legitimate say to whether or not what he saw counts as a penalty.

He doesn't say anything. Aytekin doesn't call the action. No penalty given to PSG. This could've been the goal that would have turned the history of the match.

It doesn't. The score remains 3 - 1 on the pitch, 5 - 3 on aggreg.

12. Luis Suarez. Yes. (91')

After Neymar reduces the 5 - 3 to 5 - 4 at the 88' in a free kick that's enough to make a grown man tear up each time he recalls it, there comes this.

These images make me howl with laughter. I genuinely cannot help but laugh out loud each time I see the face of this man, giving Camp Nou an acting lesson worthy of being hidden behind a MasterClass paywall. Because spoiler alert: this bitch has not been tripped by Marquinhos (PSG, n°5).

There is a contact, but this isn't a penalty contact. There's an amplification on Suarez's behalf - no one who's been tripped falls with their hands in the hair, your first instinct dictates you to put them in front of you to soften the fall - and borderlining on simulation.

Aytekin gives a penalty and a yellow card to Marquinhos. At shis tage of the match, with these stakes, at the point where the action happened, if you're gonna call penalty and thus validate the fact that you think Marquinhos willingly fouled Suarez as he was going to the goal, this shouldn't have been yellow. This should've been straight red.

Giving a yellow highlight Aytekin's incoherence in his decision making. Confusion furthermore highlighted by what happens next.

Do you know what's the rule for penalty taking? As soon as 2 players, one of each team, have intruded the surface as the taker is taking it, the penalty has to be redone.

Do you know how many players are in the penalty area? Seven.

Aytekin doesn't make the call.

Barcelona gets its fifth goal at the 91' minute. 5 - 5 (aggreg.)

13. Match ended. (91' - 95')

Over the course of the next few minutes, Suarez manages to avoid a card once again, having trapped Aytekin in a mental game where Aytekin can't give him a yellow without giving him red, Verratti gets a yellow, the stadium cries at every opportunity. It's the tenth yellow card Aytekin has given in this match.

This is Argentina - Netherlands 2022. At this point, so many yellow cards don't mean a single thing other than the referee has well and truly lost control of the game.

At this point, Aytekin knows he's fucked up, massively so. His only redeeming grace would be for Barcelona not to pass to the Quarters. He'd go under the radar for a bit, until the UEFA use him again for another game, and his career would get out of this mess mostly fine.

Tough luck.

So the Remontada is the result of a crash fall from 4 - 0 heights, a profession of faith by a 25 old, unwavering hope of a thousands, failure of UEFA to consider UCL football as an ever-changing tide where the beaten team isn't condemned to defeat, failure of the winning team to conserve a cool head, inexperience of a referee, lack of proper communication, wrong calls, non calls, too much calls, peer pressure and one very, very decided Urugayan.

In short: I understand where the feeling is coming from (ie: obvious failures of refereeing) but I don't believe the Remontada to be rigged. I believe it is merely a splendid display of the impossible rendered possible by humans being humans, at their strength as in their complete failings, and a serie of unfortunat/fortunate events (depending on which side you're standing on) resulting from each action, decision and mindset of the involved actors. UEFA business men are humans. So are players. So are referees. It was unfair. If I was a PSG supporter, I believe I too would be calling it rigged for lack of better words. I just so happen to have been on the lucky side. It's the referee's fault, it's everyone's fault. It was avoidable. Or perhaps it wasn't. Beautiful football for some, nightmarish evening for other, at the end of the day, it just was, and that's about it.

[unknownarmageddon]

so having akross brainrot, but i'm particularly exhausted rn so it will be slightly more incomprehensible than normal, but i had a thought last night while i was yet again ruining my sleep schedule

so

i thought about cross finding a guitar store.

and cross, in all my headcanons and everything forever, is like, totally an acoustic guitar kinda dude, like. he is made to hold an acoustic and rest it on his knee and sit hunched over it, staying up all night tryina make up little tunes and shit, and they're so basic because he doesn't know the first thing about playing guitars, but he just liked the concept so much that he just nabbed an acoustic and played that bitch like a moron [he gets better at it but man]

ANYWAYS.

applying the same shit to armageddon cross, i really like to think that cross wanted to be or maybe even WAS a guitar player before the otherness came [/ref]

but, now that it's all about survival, there's just music shops and shit all over the place with a lot of pristine, untouched guitars because the only use they had once the world ended were to be either kindle for fire or scraps torn apart for materials [usually the wires/strings]

and a guitar is too bulky to lug around when you have to stay on the move; the case is heavy, you need stuff to take care of it, etc, etc

so i really wanna think cross walks around with just. that distant memory of a thought tucked in the back of his mind, all but forgotten by now, and it's about his interest in music, though it's just decaying now, along with the other parts of himself that he sacrificed in order to survive

but imagine, one day, killer is the one to take an interest in the one of those stores, but it's mostly for scavenging, and he brings one of the like, finest acoustic guitars cross has ever seen [considering the time they live in], and he's like "i think this could be broken down into some handy bits!"

and cross just

"NO- I mean- Y-yeah, sure, just uh. Give it here, I'll." He frets for a moment before taking the guitar from Killer, "I'll do it."

and he in fact, does not break the guitar, and instead just plays with it while killer runs off to find more stuff to bring back to their current camp for supplies or whatever

and killer like, comes back to cross trying to play out a tune that he remembers hearing on tv, and killer just kinda like, stops just outside of cross's bubble of awareness and watches cross, who is obviously at ease and very enthralled with the guitar, and killer is like. damn. cross is a guitar dude.

and then killer proceeds to subtly hint at them keeping the guitar, after spooking cross with his sudden appearance, and later on, when they crawl into their sleeping bags and curl up and stuff, killer just like, cuddles up to cross and goes "So. Guitars huh?"

"You weren't supposed to see that."

"Does that mean you dont like the guitar?"

"...I don't."

"...........You do."

"No, I don't."

"Dude, I'm not blind-"

"We don't need it-"

"But you want it, so keep it."

and it kinda goes back and forth until cross is like. firmly just, against it completely, and then killer just like, asks, "What if i want it?"

and cross just goes reeeall quiet because he doesn't know at all what to say back, and his argument is already losing ground because, fuck, killer turned his logic against him, yet again, like he always seems to be able to do when cross is trying to avoid spoiling himself with treats and comforts like he always tries to spoil killer with

and in the end, cross ends up with a ukelele, which meets his requirements of 'easy to carry' and meets killer's insistent demand of 'bro, just fucking get yourself something nice for once, dumbass.'

anyways that is all collapses and dies

Shaking you shaking you shaking you shaking you shaking you shaking

AUGH WAWAWA

Obsessed with this actually like I love this so much holy shit

Imaging them like. Settling around a fire in the evenings and occasionally Cross’ll whip out the ukulele and play something for them for a while. Not too frequently or for too long cause it’d undoubtedly bring unwanted attention to themselves but. Sometimes

And maybe Killer starts getting interested cause it’s the first real pleasant distraction they’ve had in a while. So maybe Cross noticed his interest and attempts to get Killer to play it and like teaching him stuff.

Maybe with the reasoning of like. “You made me keep it you should at least learn how to play” or something idk. Anyway I am very normal about this actually you’re so right about everything here fuck man /pos

@denieatsart get over here man look at this

[alma-amentet]

I’ve been tagged by @katastronoot and @sheirukitriesfandom

Feel free to take if you haven’t been tagged already.

1) Describe one creative WIP project you’re planning to work on over the summer.

Just a few days ago I decided to pull myself together and finish my drafts, debts and references queue. There’s a number of tabs with refs hanging in my browser... Need to get rid of them! Then I’ll also finish some tutorials from my previous lessons as well as rewatch the ones I already did, just to get back in shape. And will probably dive into some other courses - I have some good videos.

Was thinking about making some doll, clothes after a long break. My drunk shepherdess needs this, as I changed my mind to sell her away! (she’s another story). And a bag for my favorite tarot deck, now I use the the bag I made for another one, while that another one rests in a bag that once was part of friend’s Christmas present.

The rest is optional for now, but I hope to start drawing more portraits again. Maybe, by the end of the year I’ll be taking requests and trades for your OCs and favorite characters... That would be super cool.

I wanted to start attending my IRL art class again, but looks like I won’t be able to afford it 😢 Sadly I’m not making much money these days, and there are some unexpected expences.

2) Rec a book!

Tanith Lee, The Night’s Master. I think Elden Ring fans will appreciate 😉 Made a post about it a while ago.

I also liked The Winter Players - finally, a good and strong female protagonist! Not evil, unlike Zorayas - the one from the Night’s Master 😉

3) Rec a fic!

False Azure in the Windowpane by Tulak_Hord

If you don’t mind het Malenia ship. I don’t because it has a lot of fluff and an interesting Tarnished. I loved the first 55k words, excluding the chapter where they sparred (for me, that felt too long and boring). But I keep reading it.

Also Flamed Aeonia by BadMonsterFr  

This one has fem shipping, also a lot of hurt/comfort and fluff - just the way I like it! 

I love Malenia fluff. So more Malenia fluff pls! If you can rec me anything else like this, you're welcome! (yes I know and love Unalloyed, esp. the epilogue. It’s somewhat different, more on Millicent and Miquella, but just my vibes as well).

(also I’m really sorry for not reading some of fandom’s buddies works, I do - I’d like to support you more ... started some of them, but couldn’t keep up. I’m a bad and slow reader, and prefer smaller sizes to long ongoings. There are just two long ongoings I'm reading, False Azure and Rebecca's, because they are updated not really often).

4) Rec Music!

I’m on my Breton and Francophone folk kick again, so I recommend 

- La Boutine Souriante, folk-rock from Quebec (so far I’m listyening to their earliest albums, but they’ve been around since 70s and have many albums)

- Tri Yann. Modern Breton classics, I’d say! Love those old men who are still fit and well.

5)Share one piece of advice!

I agree with @vidvana Take care of yourself! Also don’t skip meals, get enough sleep. And if you feel you’d use some support, seek it any ways. If you can’t afford therapy or anything, there’s plenty of books and resources. Sometimes it’s even easier to help yourself than to find help. I’m quite experienced in self-help, I know what I’m talking about. 

For me, Julia Cameron’s “The Artists’s Way” has become that single straw I grasped in my darkest times, and it actually helped greatly! I also used her list of further reading and quotes, thus finding Shakti Gauvain, whose books are inspiring and supportive as well. Later I was a moderator for several groups for the Asrtists’Way. Not an easy experience, but it taught me something as well.

But if there’s a chance of any therapy, groups, any other support, don’t give it up as well.

[mysticscrystalrevelation]

Game 26 Synopsis Thurs, August 15 5:00pm EDT Washington @ Minnesota

Starting: WASH: Atkins, Austin, Dolson, Samuelson, Sykes MINN: Carleton, Collier, McBride, Smith, Williams

1st Quarter WE'RE BACK! AND who else is back?? The Starters. They've had only two games together this season. *2*! SYKES SWOOSHES A 3 in a shot clock pressure situation to open the game. In fact, Slim takes 4 shots in a row, 2 of 2, and the first time she shares it Stef hits a 3. Next play Karlie hits oh damn we are shooting threesssss. Unfortunately, the offense and defense are not locked in for the Mystics. Offense is looking improvisational and without easy chemistry. Defensive switches are slow, with the Lynx getting tons of open shots. Eric is getting plenty of subs in, whether that's a chemistry choice following the break in general or rest/reintegration for our long-term injured players, I don't mind it. By force we've been a bench team, and they have stepped up, let's stay a bench-strong team. We're still shooting 3s but they are not falling. Now it's a strong drive to the hoop from Diamond Miller in her first seconds. Austin and Samuelson combine to force a shot clock violation. 15-18 after 1. Low scoring, adjustments needed.

2nd Quarter The Lynx have been successful with double teams and our defense is still leaving open shots, so Eric calls timeout early. Shakira gets one out of the timeout and it looked like she needed that. Yikes Ceci Zandalisini is feeling it in her couple minutes on the floor. And Shakira gets a tech for yelling and-1 after another driving layup. Jado comes in and hits a 3 right away. A Jado signature drive pulls us ahead. Now a HUGE block from Shak. It's much better passing and also closer D at last. Mystics pass around the arc and Jado hits 3 again. She is in her Olympic medalist zone. 31-25. Ridiculous foul call against MHA after Court Williams hooked Jado. It's starting to get chippy and the refs' attempts to control it by calling more stuff is making it worse. Collier on a little run here. Yish again gets called for a foul, this time for getting Phee's elbow in her mouth. Stef breaks the 3 drought. Shakira reverses and Phee answers in kind. 37-35. Shooting is still not good.

3rd Quarter Tough start for the Mystics, we look slow mentally and physically. Lots of giving up early, the opposite of dawg energy—out of character for us. 9-2 run for the Lynx. Ariel is taking it on her back now. Natisha Hiedeman doing the same for the Lynx, who are beating us when they move with the ball. More sharing by DC on offense has been good, but it's actually runouts off turns that have kept us level. Alanna Smith blocks Myisha then Aaliyah blocks Dorka Juhasz. 58-58.

4th Quarter Shakira came out with more energy this quarter. It's been a bit physical which is fine, but also a bit messy. Earl blocks the much taller Alanna Smith. Coach Reeve challenges the ensuing OB possession call, but the officials say unsuccessful. The replay shows Earl's soccer defense skills, arms behind her back. 63-63 with 4:30 left. Rebounds will win this one I feel. Court hits a 3. Aaliyah is playing very well. Collier spins and makes an impressive shot. She gets a steal now and lays it up. 63-70. In my opinion the steal was a foul. Austin makes a crazy shot, falling over. Slim goes for an ill-advised drive and stays down after, leaving McBride open for an easy 3. 65-73 with 1:36 remaining. Now Earl has been popped in the face. Wow, there's a glimmer of hope as the Lynx pass the ball directly to Karlie, but then rip the ball back from Shakira and score and-1. 68-79 final. Disastrous 4th quarter. Well, it was certainly nobody's best game. I was hoping that the break would be a chance to figure out offense, but there is no evidence that happened at all. Rematch Saturday.

[jrpneblog]

Better week on the road for North End

Four points from two away games is a decent return in anybody`s book and as they say at Golf it is not how, it is how many. North End grabbed a point at Norwich last Saturday afternoon in a game that will not be remembered in the annuls of history. They followed up with a good win at Huddersfield on Tuesday evening when we got our shooting boots back and scored three decent goals in what was a much better display than of late. The attacking intent was there for all to see in West Yorkshire and I am sure it gladdened the hearts of the 1,176 who made the trip over on a miserable Tuesday evening. What we need to do now is consolidate and build on the four points to get some of the positivity back in the club and in the manager, much of which has been lost in recent weeks. The game against Watford at the weekend will not be easy but with players hopefully returning we can win this last home game before Xmas and ease back into the play off spots.

Ryan Lowe said before the game at Norwich that keeping the back door shut was the first priority and we certainly set up to do that with little attacking intent in the first half of the game. It was a poor spectacle to watch in all honesty with the home side having some decent players but seriously lacking in confidence as I suppose North End were. To be fair we defended quite solidly and charged a couple of efforts down from the home side when they threatened the North End goal. We could have actually won the game in the last twenty with Whiteman hitting the bar and Whatmough having a goal bound shot blocked but 0-0 just about summed up the afternoon and it was certainly a better point for North End that it was for Daniel Farke`s side.

On Tuesday evening in West Yorkshire we finally burst out of our defensive coat and took the game to Huddersfield right from the first whistle. A shot and a shout for a penalty came in the first couple of minutes before Browne gave us the lead inside four minutes. North End looked much better playing this 3-5-2 and dominated for much of the half. Keane made it two before half time and we were well on our way. Unfortunately we sat back back after the break and the home side took advantage pulling one back through Ward but when Whiteman scored a third for North End midway through the second half it was game set and match. North End saw out the rest of the game quite comfortably and could have won four or five if the truth be known. However it was a god win and a generally good performance from the boys to set us up for the game against Watford at Deepdale on Saturday.

Watford come to Deepdale having been beaten at home on Tuesday evening by high flying Ipswich Town 1-2 after taking the lead in the game. The Hornets recent record is won two, drawn one and lost two of their previous five Championship games. They have played nine games on the road, winning two, drawing three and losing four, scoring just seven goals and conceding thirteen. Although their away record is nothing to write home about this is definitely a team that should not be underestimated and some think they are currently punching below their weight being mid table in the Championship four points behind North End. Hopefully we will have Osmajic back and Emil Riis is not too far away either. This will give the manager the choice he needs up front so lets hope that one or both are involved on Saturday when I expect the team to give the fans a pre Xmas boost in the last home game before the big day.

And finally this week:- I had to look twice when I saw footage of a top Turkish referee being assaulted by a senior official of one of the participating teams in a Turkish Super League match. The right hook sent the ref to the floor and then he was kicked while he was on the floor. It was an utterly appalling incident and I sincerely hope it is a life ban and serious assault charges for the two men involved. I know football is passionate but that is way over the top and I hope these two thugs get what they deserve.

.

MATCH PREDICTION -

Watford (H) League - Home Win

.

JR`s HIGH FIVES

QPR to beat Plymouth Argyle 1/1

A £5 Stake returns £10.00 on bet365

SEASONS STATS

Returns £86.00 Stake £95.00

Percentage profit+/-loss - 9.49%

Predictions 19 won 8 lost 11

[liamhaydn-blog]

Arsenal 22/23 a season review Part 3 of 3: April-May-

April

From an Arsenal perspective, Bukayo Saka was again the story of the International Break, receiving rave reviews from the media for his role in England’s 2-0 Euros Qualifier win over Ukraine, where the winger grabbed a goal and an assist, the goal being a wonderful curled finish into the top corner from outside the box. On his return to Arsenal he received the award for Premier League player of the month for March, making it the first time since 03/04 that Arsenal had multiple players win the award in the same season.

Given Arsenal’s league form in March, the club’s own player of the month award was just as competitive as the one for the overall competition. Both Saka and Martinelli missed out despite the latter scoring 4 in 4, and the award instead went to Leandro Trossard for his 5 assists. An easier decision to be made was for the Premier League manager of the month, Mikel Arteta picking up the award for the 4th time that season as Arsenal won all 4 games in the competition.

Arsenal’s first game of April would be their first league game of the season without Saka’s name in the starting 11, but in his place came Gabriel Jesus, making his first league start since November. The visitors to the Emirates were Leeds United, in the midst of their own scrap against relegation, them and 8 other teams all in the lower places were fighting for every point to survive in the Premier League’s most competitive season to date. 

For the first half an hour or so Arsenal failed to do anything meaningful with their possession, until Jesus faked to shoot then chopped back to manoeuvre his way past Kristensen in the Leeds box, then he left Ayling on the floor and ran past him. As he did so the Leeds defender dangled a leg which caught Jesus on the knee and sent him to the turf. Without hesitation the ref pointed to the spot and after receiving the ball from captain Odegaard, Jesus sent Meslier the wrong way to give Arsenal the lead and score his first goal for exactly 6 months. 

Arsenal started the first half slowly, but they were immediately at the races in the second, doubling their lead 2 minutes into the second half when Martinelli beat Ayling then put an inviting ball across the six-yard box. It was right-back Ben White who gambled on it and got to the back-post unopposed. His powerful connection cannoned into the net off the underside of the crossbar. 8 minutes later and Arsenal had their 3rd following a devastating combination between Trossard and Jesus. This was the first game the two started alongside each other, but their understanding on the pitch was already apparent. Jesus found Trossard on the edge of the box, he made his way into the penalty area and found the angle to provide the cut-back to Jesus, who had the easy task of converting from six yards for his first open-play goal since scoring against Tottenham in October. 

With a quarter of an hour to go, Arsenal briefly allowed Leeds back into the game with a very soft goal they will feel was very avoidable. As Leeds broke out from Arsenal’s press they attacked the Gunners backline and despite Arsenal managing to get 7 players back behind the ball, the ball still broke to an unmarked Kristensen who had the time to pick his spot and he found the bottom corner as a deflection off Zinchenko took the flight of the ball away from Ramsdale. Like their last game before the break against Crystal Palace, Arsenal had been cruising 3-0 when they’d allowed the visitors a glimmer of hope with a goal against the run of play. 

Like against Palace though, Arsenal quickly restored their 3-goal margin, getting their 4th goal in the 84th minute. Substitute Saka dragged 4 men outwide with him, then found Odegaard who instantly looked for the head of Xhaka. Odegaard’s ball was a perfect one but it still needed a good header, and Xhaka certainly provided it, his touch was so good that the keeper didn’t even move for it, he knew he was beaten as Xhaka netted his 4th goal in his last 5 appearances for club and country. In between Arsenal’s two 4-1 home wins against Palace and Leeds, City had a 4-1 home win of their own beating Liverpool, but Arsenal had restored their 8 point advantage (having played a game more). 

Next up for Arsenal it would be their turn to face Liverpool as they travelled to Anfield, a ground they had last won at in 2012. Since then the ground had become a graveyard for them with Arsenal having conceded at least 3 goals in 8 of their last 9 Premier League visits to the ground, and having lost by a margin of at least 2 goals in all 6 of their most recent league visits. 

For the first time since before the World Cup, Arsenal started with what is considered their first choice front 3 of Saka, Jesus and Martinelli. It was a combination between Arsenal’s young trio of Odegaard, Saka and Martinelli that got the league leaders off to the ideal start. Saka led the attack and found Odegaard who looked to return it to him, though his pass deflected off Van Dijk into the path of Martinelli who kept control of the ball and then poked it beyond Alisson in the 8th minute. 

20 minutes later things got even better for Arsenal when Martinelli was found once more, with a clever pass from Xhaka putting him in down the flank, from there he swung in a perfect cross to find the unmarked Gabriel Jesus who headed it down into the ground and into the back of the net for 2-0. The first 40 minutes went better than any Arsenal fan could have dreamed of, in a game that was considered a huge test of their title credentials, they had risen comfortably to the challenge. They led 2-0 and for a spell of around 10 minutes, looked the likelier of the two teams to get the game’s 3rd goal which would surely secure all 3 points.   

However at a time when Arsenal looked most in control, Liverpool halved the deficit when Jota’s pull-back for Henderson was steered to the back-post by the Liverpool skipper and Salah was waiting to turn it in from inside the six-yard box. The timing of the goal just 3 minutes from half-time was a crucial one and meant that an entirely different second half was promised and that was what materialised.

Just 7 minutes into the second half and Liverpool won a penalty when Arsenal failed to clear a corner and Holding rather clumsily brought down Jota whilst attempting to reach the ball first. There would be a reprieve for him and his team however as Salah missed the chance to level the contest with his second of the game, pushing his penalty wide of the post. Ramsdale had stayed down the middle so all Salah had to do was hit the target from 12 yards, but he was unable. 

The equaliser still looked and felt inevitable as Arsenal continued to toil in the second half, squandering possession cheaply time and again and failing to get to grips with Liverpool who continued to attack, constantly swarming into the Arsenal half with swathes of red shirts and Arsenal seemed caught in a blur as had been the case so many times before at Anfield. However after weathering a storm which in reality lasted around 20 minutes (but must have felt like 6 hours for Arsenal fans, coaches and players) the game began to settle down again with Arsenal finally getting the chance to catch their breath and play some of the game outside of their own half, whilst Liverpool were almost re-charging and preparing themselves for one last big push. 

With less than 10 minutes of normal time remaining Liverpool began to get sights of goal again, and a big chance came when substitute Nunez was put through one-on-one against Ramsdale, but the Arsenal keeper was equal to it getting a big hand to the ball as Nunez attempted to pass it beyond him. A 4th goal in the game appeared near certain, but it wasn’t definite which way it would go as Liverpool pushed more bodies into the Arsenal half, the Gunners had threats on the counter attack and aswell almost scored from a corner when Gabriel got good contact on his header but aimed it straight at Alisson. A minute later another Arsenal chance came when Saka got free of 2 Liverpool defenders in the area, but his ball across goal could not find substitute Trossard. 

Arsenal were immediately made to rue those missed opportunities when Alexander-Arnold got beyond Zinchenko and stood an inviting ball up to the backpost, Firmino was there and he won the header for his 10th Premier League goal against Arsenal. There was still a couple of minutes of normal time remaining and now Liverpool really smelt blood, feeling the game was now there’s to go and win. With 6 minutes added on, in the 5th minute Salah tried to bend one into the top corner and a deflection off of Gabriel made it even harder for Ramsdale, pushing the ball further away from him but the Arsenal keeper pulled off one of the saves of the season giving the importance of the moment to divert it behind for a corner. 

Liverpool were still not done and a flighted ball from Alexander-Arnold found the run of Nunez who had got in behind the Arsenal defence, his header down across the six-yard box found Konate just inches from the goalline, the defender couldn’t go with his head so opted to try and guide it in with his chest when Ramsdale somehow got back on the line in time and was able to push the ball away from goal, when the Liverpool winner looked so certain that some fans began celebrating prematurely. The drama of the game still wasn’t done as Arsenal attempted to counter-attack with Saka, Martinelli and Trossard up against just one Liverpool defender, Martinelli attempted to put Saka in on goal but his pass was too heavy and Alisson got their first. Then the ref called time on a pulsating second half and one of the most dramatic Premier League games in recent memory. 

Whether it would be a point gained or two points dropped for Arsenal would ultimately come down to whether they finished 1st or 2nd, as at full-time there were arguments for both. Having led for nearly 80 minutes and outplaying Liverpool for nearly the entirety of the first half they would on one hand rue the opportunities they didn’t take to get the 3rd goal and put it out of Liverpool’s reach. However they had got out of jail with Salah missing a penalty and then they’d had to rely on a miraculous, heroic performance from Ramsdale between the sticks, as he produced not one but two incredible saves in the final minutes.

The following Sunday and Arsenal were on the road again, this time travelling to West Ham who were in the midst of their own fight against relegation. It took Arsenal just 7 minutes to open the scoring. Patient, intricate build-up in and around the West Ham box eventually saw Odegaard play in White, who squared it across the six-yard box for Jesus who was waiting to tap home for his 4th goal in 3 starts. Just 3 minutes later and Arsenal’s advantage was doubled with Martinelli swinging a ball over to an unmarked Odegaard who had all the time he needed to side-foot volley it beyond Fabianski. Arsenal were opening West Ham up at will, and with such a flying start they had roared into such a commanding position that the only question at that point seemed to be: “How many will West Ham keep it down to?”

Arsenal spent the next 20 minutes passing the ball around at a leisurely pace, with no real urgency or desire to push for a 3rd goal, they were content to just leave West Ham chasing shadows as they passed it around the side who had been away in European action just 3 days prior. Arsenal’s casual approach would come back to bite them however, as Partey attempted a flick past Declan Rice who was on him in a flash, charging the ball down and finding Paqueta. His first touch was a dreadful one as he lost control of the ball, but Gabriel had already committed his body to a diving tackle, and though he managed to pull out at the last second, Pacqueta felt enough of a touch off Gabriel to go down and try to win a penalty. It was soft and perhaps harsh, but Arsenal had given the ref a decision to make. Firstly by Partey’s carelessness in possession so close to his own box and then by Gabriel’s clumsy challenge attempt. 

Benrahma sent Ramsdale the wrong way to half the deficit and suddenly a game that was completely in Arsenal’s hands was once again in danger of slipping away. The chance to re-establish control emerged early in the second half when a Martinelli shot was charged down by the outstretched arm of Antonio and the ref pointed to the spot for the game’s second penalty. 

Saka had never before missed a penalty for Arsenal and stepped up to take it, however on this occasion he pushed it way wide of the goal. Mere minutes after passing up this golden opportunity Arsenal were made to pay, when a simple ball lifted into the box from Kehrer bypassed an Arsenal defence who hadn’t pushed out quickly enough. They were caught cold as the ball arrived for Bowen to take on the volley and his shot which bobbled into the ground beat Ramsdale, who will have been disappointed he didn’t do better with it. 

With West Ham’s tails well and truly up, Arsenal were dragged into a game where possession was exchanged regularly and cheaply, as they were forced to defend many situations such as corners and throw-ins. Holding in particular endured a torrid afternoon, with Antonio enjoying regular success in isolating himself against him one v one and getting the better of him. Arsenal wanted to salvage the day and rescue all 3 points which earlier on had looked all but assured, but they lacked the control over the game to do it. Substitutes helped them to re-establish some authority but they never really looked likely to score a 3rd goal and in the end they were forced to accept a second 2-2 draw in a week. Like at Liverpool, they had been 2-0 up but conceded before half-time and like the previous week a missed penalty early in the second half was a crucial moment in the game, this time of course it was Arsenal making the costly miss.

Arsenal had only themselves to blame for squandering such a commanding position through individual errors and a seemingly lax approach, but they had the chance to put things right just 5 days later at the Emirates as they hosted bottom side Southampton. However they got off to an unimaginably start when Ramsdale underhit a pass for Zinchenko, which was easily cut out by Alcaraz who immediately punished the error by putting it straight into the back of the net to put Arsenal behind after just 28 seconds. It was an unfathomably poor attempted pass from Ramsdale and after rescuing his side late away at Anfield, he had on this occasion put his side in a precariously bad position early doors. 

A bad start got worse in the 14th minute when sloppy play in midfield eventually led to a poor giveaway from Odegaard which went straight to the Southampton midfield, with one pass they picked out Alcaraz who was in acres of space running towards the Arsenal back four, he spotted the run of Walcott and picked him out in behind Gabriel. The pass allowed the former Arsenal man to take a first time shot, and he was able to simply pass it beyond Ramsdale. 6 minutes later and Arsenal got themselves back into the game with Saka getting beyond his man and digging out a cross from the byline which found Martinelli who expertly steered it in on the volley. 

Arsenal pushed for an equalising goal for the remainder of the first half, but Odegaard and Vieira (covering for Xhaka who missed out with illness) were wasteful with their opportunities. The closest Arsenal came to a first half equaliser came when when a clever Ben White header from a corner was cleared off the line. 

Arsenal continued their domination in the second half but struggled to calve out many clear-cut chances, despite keeping Southampton pinned in their own third for much of the halves opening 20 minutes. One good chance came just shy of the hour mark when Saka and Jesus both had opportunities to force the ball over the goalline but both were unable. With 25 minutes of normal time remaining Arsenal made their job harder, when Partey unnecessarily played himself into trouble and ended up conceding a corner. From that resulting corner, taken by dead-ball specialist Ward-Prowse, Bella-Kotchap got the contact to send the ball to the backpost where Carleta-Car had been left completely free to nod home. Arsenal had began the game with over 50 more league points than Southampton, but now they trailed them at home by 3 goals to 1, as their title dreams crumbled all around them in the most unlikely of ways. 

Just minutes later a big chance falls to Jesus to get Arsenal back in it once more, but on a frustrating night for the Brazilian, surely his worst for the club thus far, he fluffs his lines and skies his volley way over the bar. Another chance comes when a shot from Saka looked likely to find the back of the net before it was blocked by his own teammate in substitute Nketiah. Just as Arsenal had appeared to run out of ideas Odegaard bent one into the bottom corner from outside the box, an excellent strike from the Norwegian who like most of his teammates had endured a poor match. One of the few who hadn’t been poor was Bukayo Saka and 2 minutes later he got the equaliser. A good ball into the box by the lively Trossard (who had replaced the ineffectual Vieira) was held up by Jesus who teed up Nelson for the shot. His effort was saved but fell to the feet of Saka who levelled the game, just before the board for 8 additional minutes went up. 

They surely couldn’t do it again could they? They tried. 2 minutes into stoppage time and Trossard thundered one off the bar, a few inches lower and the power would have beaten the keeper and the net would have been bulging. In the 5th minute lightning almost strikes twice for Nelson as he comes close to scoring his 2nd injury time winner of the season, but his effort deflects just wide. Partey’s evening which had been one to forget got even worse in the 98th minute when he ignored all his teammates and opted to try his luck from 30 yards out. It was just what Southampton were hoping for, a dreadful effort which flew miles high and wide of the goal. 

Still it wasn’t over though as it went to the 100th minute, with Arsenal still attacking. Another chance fell to Jesus and yet again he was unable to take it, again ending up on the floor and appealing for a penalty which wasn’t forthcoming. The referee called time on a crazy game between top and bottom that ended in a 3-3 draw. The game showcased Arsenal’s fighting spirit and never say die desperation which is why they are top of the league, but it also showed their defensive vulnerabilities and capability to produce abysmal individual errors, which has meant their lead at the top had been cut to 5 points despite them having now played 2 games more than City. 

Arsenal had not beaten City in the league since 2015, and since Guardiola took the job the following year, the Gunners had only managed to avoid defeat in the league against him once, going into the game on a run of 11 straight defeats in the Premier League to their title rivals. Arsenal began as 4/1 underdogs and those odds would’ve moved even higher when City scored the opening goal in the 7th minute. A long ball up to Haaland allowed City to bypass Arsenal’s press and the Norwegian touched it down and laid it off with Holding on his back as though he wasn’t there. His pass was perfectly weighted into the path of De Bruyne who was then able to isolate Gabriel 1 v 1, with ease he made room for the shot which beat Ramsdale from outside the box. The Belgian simply passed the ball firmly past the Arsenal keeper, of whom questions would be asked as to if he could have done better, but in fairness it did appear to be a very well placed finish. 

Ramsdale was twice called into action later into the half, his intervention needed to stop Haaland doubling the lead on two separate occasions. First when he weaved his way in between Zinchenko and Holding with the ball at his feet and later when he attempted to finish off a cut-back from Gundogan. Ramsdale was equal to these attempts and Arsenal were in touching distance of getting into half time only a goal down. But right on half time, they conceded a free-kick and from the resulting set-piece De Bruyne found the unmarked head of John Stones who made no mistake. The linesman’s flag then immediately shot up for offside, but on VAR review it was found that White’s foot was just playing Stones onside, and now Arsenal had a mountain to climb.

A mountain they never really looked like climbing since they had been completely unable to get their dangerous wingers in the game, as the players instead mostly opted for safety first passes backwards and sideways, as though their only intention was to stave off City attacks for a while by keeping possession in an unthreatening manner. The game already appeared to be over but it was made certain in the 54th minute when a poor pass from Odegaard (typically of Arsenal on this night, one that tried to go backwards to Partey rather than try to progress the ball towards City’s goal) was picked off by De Bruyne who linked with Haaland, the duo’s combinations had destroyed Arsenal all evening and this instance was no exception as De Bruyne finished the move off with another smart finish for his second of the game. 

After an opening hour where City had been vastly superior to Arsenal in every department in each area of the pitch, the hosts seemed content with their cushion and looked to see it out, which finally allowed Arsenal to grow into the game and string some passes together in better areas of the pitch. The introductions of Jorginho and Trossard in place of Xhaka and Martinelli who had been completely anonymous saw a slight improvement from Arsenal and it was a combination between them and fellow substitute Reiss Nelson that eventually saw Trossard tee up Holding for a first-time shot. It was a good finish from the centre-back as he gave Arsenal the smallest of small glimmers of hope with 4 minutes of normal time remaining. The final goal of the game would be City’s however when substitute Foden was allowed to bring the ball down on the edge of the box with all the time and space he needed to nudge it on for Haaland to strike first time. It wasn’t the cleanest of strikes but there was enough venom on the shot to beat Ramsdale and make it 4-1.

On the night Arsenal needed to produce their best performance of the season, they in fact produced their worst. Predictably Holding was terrorised by Haaland, Neither Partey or Xhaka had any success getting to grips with De Bruyne and in an attacking sense Odegaard, Martinelli and Saka had their quietest games of the season, with all 3 being subbed off before the end. The warning signs had been there with the contrasting form of the two sides going into the game. The damage had seemingly already been done from Arsenal’s side with the way they had surrendered and threw away points in the previous games. By holding onto their 2-0 lead away at West Ham and then beating the bottom placed side at home they could have gone to Etihad 9 points clear. Instead their slip-ups allowed the City game to be something of a straight shoot-out with the winner being the overwhelming favourite to take the title. 

Given Arsenal’s recent struggles with Holding looking out of his depth, the form of Partey really dipping and a host of individual mistakes from others, getting a favourable result from the Etihad appeared a long shot but there could be questions asked of Arteta’s decision to stick with the likes of Holding and as well not bringing in Jorginho to try and bring more control to Arsenal’s midfield, either in support or in place of Partey. By keeping the same team, Arteta allowed Guardiola to see all of Arsenal’s weaknesses in recent games and set up to brutally expose them, which he did. 

May

After 4 without a win, Arsenal were desperate to return to winning ways at home to Chelsea who were down in 12th position. Sensing he could persist no longer with what had not been working, Arteta made 3 changes to the starting line-up taking out Holding, Partey and Martinelli and bringing in Kiwior for his first Premier League start, Jorginho and Trossard who had been on the winning side in all 6 of his previous league starts for the club. 

Arsenal quickly began to look more like their old selves, pressing aggressively and winning the ball back regularly in duels or by picking up the second ball. They got the goal their start merited in the 18th minute when Xhaka picked up the ball on the left hand side, with time to pick his head up he expertly found Odegaard who had found some space on the edge of the box. The captain’s first-time finish was a magnificent one as his effort went in off the underside of the crossbar. Chelsea almost responded when Kante picked out the run of Chilwell who had got free down the right hand side. Ramsdale produced an excellent stop to push his attempt wide for a corner and keep Arsenal ahead. 

Just past the half-hour mark and Arsenal doubled the lead, with that same combination of Xhaka to Odegaard causing the problems for Chelsea once more. A cross from the left-hand side from the Swiss again found an unmarked Odegaard who again scored with a one-touch finish for his 14th league goal of the season. 3 minutes later and Arsenal had their third with White’s diagonal ball to the backpost picking out the chest of Jesus who laid it off for Xhaka to shoot. His effort was blocked but the ball fell to the feet of Jesus who struck it home for his 10th goal of the season, making Arsenal the first side in Europe’s top 5 leagues to have 4 different players hit double figures.  

The Gunners looked to continue where they’d left off in the second half and almost got the 4th when Gabriel got his head on a corner, beating Kepa to the ball but Thiago Silva was well positioned on the goalline to clear it away. Chelsea had not been able to deal with Xhaka all night long and he was the next to come close to adding himself to the scoresheet but his effort was saved by Kepa. 

As has become a regular occurrence at the Emirates in recent months, just as Arsenal appeared certain to score the game’s 4th goal and make it 4-0, they would instead concede it against the run of play. Yet again it was a goal they should have done better on, Zinchenko this time the guilty party, switching off and allowing Madueke to run off the back of him, which gave Kovacic a clear target to pick out which he did. With one pass, from a situation where there was no danger Madueke was now through on goal and with a good first touch he was able to finish beyond Ramsdale despite the attentions of Gabriel by bobbling the shot into the ground. 

Arsenal had once again failed to be ruthless at one end and then at the other switched off to concede a soft, avoidable goal. From there the game got messy, Arsenal could not regain the same control over it they’d had up to conceding, but Chelsea never looked likely to seriously threaten the result of an Arsenal win, with the game ending 3-1. There had been positives for Arsenal, the main one of course being they’d ended their winless run by beating a local rival, and they looked more comfortable as a team with Kiwior in defence who had done well on his first league start. Jorginho as well had been a big improvement on the recent displays in that position from Partey, the Italian midfielder kept things ticking, never dwelling on the ball unnecessarily and that helped Arsenal to move the ball around much quicker and get the ball into the forward players regularly. There would be however tougher tests ahead, such as the away trip to 3rd place Newcastle.

After recent away fixtures at Anfield, West Ham and the Etihad, Arsenal’s travels were not getting any easier as they visited 3rd place Newcastle who had only lost at home once in all competitions and who had recently dispatched Arsenal’s North London rivals Tottenham 6-1, with the Magpies leading 5-0 after 21 minutes. They threatened to make a similarly fast start against Arsenal, hitting the post inside 70 seconds with Jacob Murphy afforded too much room for the shot by Zinchenko. Pressure from Newcastle forced Arsenal into conceding a corner and from that resulting set-piece, the referee pointed to the spot for a penalty judging Kiwior, who had kept his place in the team, to have blocked a Joelinton effort with his arm. 

VAR looked at the incident and in the end asked the ref to go across to the monitor and decide for himself. After several re-watches it was clear that the ball had first hit Kiwior around his knee before diverting on to his arm and nearly 3 minutes after pointing to the spot, the referee reversed his decision. It was already looking like another long afternoon for Arsenal though, in an incredibly hot and hostile atmosphere with 50,000 Newcastle fans relishing the occasion of their side coming up against one of the Big Boys and attempting to unsettle them. 

In the 14th minute though the game turned in Arsenal’s favour. After winning a free-kick, Jorginho who was keeping Partey out of the team went back inside to Odegaard. Newcastle had expected the ball to be worked outwide so had everyone deep in their box preparing for a cross. This gave Odegaard time to set his sights and after setting the ball out of his feet he let fly with a powerful, accurate strike which quickly travelled through Botman’s legs and all the way into the back of the net. It was a goal eerily similar to the one he scored away at Spurs back in January, and with this one he joined Martinelli on 15 league goals, to mark the first time in Premier League history that Arsenal had 2 players reach 15 goals. 

The goal settled Arsenal down massively, and they began to thrive in the white hot atmosphere twice cutting through Newcastle with scintillating passing moves. The first opening came after 20 minutes when after a patient build-up Odegaard suddenly put Martinelli clean through with an exquisite pass, but he could only hit it straight at Pope in goal, Odegaard then forced Pope into immediate action in the aftermath with a curling effort from a wide position. Just minutes later Arsenal were in again as Saka found himself suddenly in on goal after another sharp passing move. He faired no better than Martinelli though hitting his shot straight at the frame of Pope. 

Those misses could have been costly as Newcastle forced Ramsdale into action at the other end, but he was on hand to deny Willock with his legs. Right on half-time Arsenal had another huge chance to get into the break 2-0 up but this time it was Odegaard’s turn to be denied by Pope when presented with a one on one. Saka won the ball back down Newcastle’s left and fed Martinelli who was able to find Odegaard. The skipper dummied past Burn who was left on the floor but Pope was quick to close down the angle and Odegaard could not find the precision to beat the big target Pope had imposed. 

Newcastle started the second half with the same intensity they began the first, and there was a couple of bad minutes for Zinchenko. First with Murphy running at him, he continued to back off and back off, in the end falling over and allowing Murphy to easily pick out a cross which was met by the end of Isak who was denied by the post. A minute later Zinchenko then gave a cheap free-kick away in a dangerous area. Schar’s head met the subsequent free-kick and but for a fantastic reaction stop from Ramsdale, the Geordies would have been level. Arsenal again responded to the Newcastle chances by coming up with one of their own, Martinelli coming close with a fantastic effort which left Pope rooted to the spot, but didn’t quite come down enough and bounced off the crossbar. 

The hosts came close again just shy of the hour mark, but were again denied this time by a fantastic sliding block by Xhaka just as Willock was about to pull the trigger from close range. Xhaka was high upfield but as a good Newcastle move played through Arsenal’s press, the Swiss midfielder chased all the way back and then timed his tackle to perfection. Sensing the precarious nature of Arsenal’s lead, Arteta withdrew Zinchenko who had again suffered in moments and replaced him with Tierney. Arteta made the switch with the intention of preserving the cleansheet but it also had an impact at the other end as the Scot leapt onto a loose Newcastle pass and found Jesus who then fed Martinelli on the half-way line, the winger carried the ball down the flank until slowing down when he was level with the penalty area, he then faced the Newcastle full-back up, teasing him before eventually making room to fire a low cross along the six-yard box which Schar turned into his own net.

With the two-goal cushion Arsenal’s win never again looked in doubt, with Partey brought on in place of Odegaard to try and help shut the game down. Arsenal saw out the 2-0 win for one of their most impressive results of the season, which offered some revival to their title chances. Against a very physical side who attempted to bully them by often leaving a foot in and going in extremely aggressively, the Arsenal players remained brave for 90 minutes and took their bumps and bruises in order to win the game. The Gunners did not allow themselves to be rattled by Newcastle’s roughhouse tactics, instead using them to their advantage by taking their time getting up to frustrate the crowd and stifle the home teams rhythm. 

After a wobbly April, The Arsenal looked their old selves again, back to something approaching their best. Ramsdale’s form had dipped in the previous month but here he was flawless as he picked up his 10th away cleansheet of the season, which was twice as many as any other keeper in the league. Kiwior and Jorginho helped Arsenal to look much more solid and composed than they had with Holding and Partey in the side in recent games. Xhaka and Odegaard were also vital in Arsenal picking up the 3 points and with 3 games left to play, they remained alive in the title race. 

For the 8th successive gameweek that Arsenal and City were both in Premier League action not against each other, Arsenal took to the field knowing their title rivals had already won that weekend. On this occasion it was particularly damaging. City had a tricky looking fixture away at relegation threatened Everton sandwiched in between two Champions League semis with Real Madrid. To still be in with a fighting chance of the title, realistically Arsenal required City to drop points here, but they won easily by 3 goals to 0 for their 11th successive victory in the league. It was a punch to the gut for the Arsenal fans in the stadium and the players who took to the pitch shortly afterwards. 

Arsenal’s opponents on the day Brighton were fighting for European qualification for the first time in the club’s history and they needed to bounce back from a shock 5-1 home defeat to Everton earlier that week. They boasted a good record at the Emirates, having already won there this season in the League Cup. Arsenal had beaten Brighton at the Emirates just once in their last 5 attempts. 

Arsenal would be without Zinchenko who had been all but ruled out for the remainder of the season, and after 20 minutes they lost Martinelli aswell, as he was unable to shake off a poor challenge on him by Caicedo that also ruled him out of Arsenal’s last 2 games of the campaign. His replacement Trossard came closest to giving Arsenal the lead against his former club when he travelled into the box with the ball and then let fly, but his shot was just too high and clipped the crossbar on its way over. 

For much of the first half Arsenal had to be patient and disciplined as Brighton knocked the ball around with supreme confidence, daring Arsenal to push high and press them, leaving space in behind for their wide players to run onto accurate clipped balls forward. It was a tactic that did give Arsenal some trouble, but they also came close at the other end when pouncing on loose Brighton passes and as the half drew to a close Arsenal were growing into the game and beginning to edge closer to the opening goal. The best Arsenal chance fell to Saka when the Gunners kept the ball alive in the box and it eventually fell to the youngster who looked to find the bottom corner but fired just the wrong side of the post. 

The game was finely poised at half-time, Arsenal had been made to accept far less possession at home than they were used to, but they still had the better chances of the half, being let down by less than clinical finishing from Saka and Odegaard. The first goal of this game always felt like being a massive one in deciding the outcome and it was the visitors who got it. Mitoma gave White a torrid afternoon, the Arsenal right-back was completely unable to get to grips with him, he was toyed with and tormented all game in what must have been his most difficult day in an Arsenal shirt since his debut. 

The goal came from more Mitoma work down his side, the winger put Estupinan in behind White whose initial cross was blocked but the ball fell to him once more and this time he was able to pick out the head of the 5 foot 7 Enciso who could head home unmarked from point blank range. The goal immediately looked bizarre as just before the cross came in Kiwior went down off the ball clutching his ankle. On the replay it was clear Ferguson had impeded Kiwior by accidentally stepping on the back of his ankle but VAR did not intervene. 

Going behind early in the second half was a real blow to Arsenal as it gave Brighton yet more confidence and they began to play even better, raising their level to heights Arsenal were struggling to match. Substitute Nelson who had replaced Xhaka came closest to getting Arsenal an equaliser with a powerful low drive after cutting in from the left, again it was close but not close enough for the hosts. With time running out, Arteta played his final hand and brought on Nketiah and Smith-Rowe, neither of whom had made much impact as second half substitutes all season for Jesus and Odegaard. It seemed something of a bizarre move, as did leaving on Saka who for the 6th time in his last 7 starts failed to notch a goal or assist and was evidently badly struggling for form.  

Arsenal did not muster any further threat after these subs and it was Brighton who secured victory in the 86th minute. Arsenal’s day was summed up when Trossard, one of their most consistent performers since joining the club made a costly mistake when he lost possession after being found by his goalkeeper, his attempted pass was instantly blocked by Gross and with that one touch the ball fell perfectly into the flight of Undav who lifted the ball over Ramsdale and into the empty net. 

If Arsenal thought their day couldn’t get any worse they were wrong as in the 6th minute of added on time, Ramsdale could only push out an Undav shot to Estupinan who reacted quickly and bobbled his shot beyond the Arsenal keeper, who was celebrating a very unhappy 25th Birthday. It was just the 3rd league game all season Arsenal had failed to find the net and at the other end they’d now conceded 15 goals in their last 8 games. The week before they’d managed to hold onto City’s coattails with a great win at Newcastle, but this time faced with another tough opponent and needing to dig deep once more just to hold onto the coattails of the league leaders that little bit longer, they had been unable to muster what was required. It was a day where everything went wrong.

Arsenal’s final away game all season would also see them wearing their much loved black away strip for the final time, a kit generally considered to be one of the best in the clubs history. The Gunners hoped to bid a fond farewell to it at Nottingham Forest, the home team who knew one more win would keep them mathematically safe from relegation in their first season back in the Premier League. Anything less than an away victory would secure City as Champions with 3 games to spare.

Arteta went with an unusual looking side, Kiwior moved to the left-back position with White filling in for him at centre-half, making his first start of the season in his old position. Partey came back into the team for his first start since the City defeat, filling in at right-back. For the third time in the last 5 games, an Odegaard give-away in midfield led immediately to a goal as another cheap giveaway from the skipper allowed Gibbs-White to break away. His through pass for Awoniyi was weighted just right, Gabriel slid in to try and clear the ball but only succeeded in pushing the ball into the forwards stride as he made contact with the ball and put it beyond the sprawling Ramsdale.

Arsenal had 71 minutes to find an equaliser against a team who had not kept a cleansheet in their last 15 matches. However they never really looked like getting it. With something to protect Forest sat in a compact shape with nearly every player behind the ball and waited for Arsenal to try and break them down. The away team passed the ball around in a laboured fashion, with slow side to side passing where too many touches were taken and the most obvious option was taken again and again. 

They were desperate for some creativity but nobody on the field seemed to have it in them to be the game’s spark and get the team back in the game. The most obvious candidates to be that player: Jesus, Trossard, Odegaard and Saka all toiled in their own way. Trossard was anonymous, Jesus was bullied, Odegaard could not find the space to get on the ball in dangerous positions and Saka continued to look all out of ideas and energy. Jesus appeared to have a strong case for a penalty when he was clearly pulled back when trying to get on the end of a pass played in behind by White. Instead of pointing to the spot though, the referee booked Jesus for his angry protests at the penalty not being given.

Arsenal looked like a team desperate for the season to end as they crawled on their knees towards the finish line. Arsenal managed 82% possession but with it mustered just one more shot on target than Forest with 3. 19% possession is the lowest possession with which a team has won a Premier League game since the 03/04 campaign. With the win at Newcastle, Arsenal had given fans hope they could dig in until the end of the season and at least finish it strong, but instead they suffered back to back league defeats for the first time all season, and failed to score in consecutive league games for the first time in the campaign too. After such a magnificent campaign it was now all petering out rather lamely. 

Arsenal would close the season out with a home game against Wolves. Arteta opted to keep the same 11 that had lost against Forest, he and everyone else hoped for a better outcome this time. It took Arsenal 11 minutes to end their goalless run when Jesus appeared on the right, reached the by-line and produced a pin-point cross onto the head of the unmarked Xhaka who nodded home from inside the six-yard box. 3 minutes later and Arsenal’s advantage was doubled, again it began with wing play down the right, this time it was Saka beating his man and playing in Odegaard who attempted to return it to him with a flick of his heel, the ball instead was met by Wolves defender Kilman, but he only succeeded in putting the ball in the path of Xhaka who sidefooted it into the net. With a move back to Germany now an open secret, in his 297th and final game in Arsenal colours, the Swiss midfielder had notched his very first brace for the club. The goal was also Arsenal’s 100th of the season across all competitions.

Arsenal went 3-0 up before the half-hour mark, the ball was again worked out wide to Saka who played it to Partey before Trossard and Odegaard combined. This made room for Saka to be fed inside the box by Trossard, the youngster took a sharp, sudden touch to go back inside and with it he made the space for a shot. His shot was an excellent one fiercely curling in beyond Sa in the Wolves goal and the perfect end to the week for the man who had just committed his future to Arsenal with the signing of a new contract.

There was still time in the first half for Xhaka to have the chance to notch his first ever hattrick, an excellent patient passing move we have become accustomed to seeing from Arsenal this season eventually led to Saka finding an umarked Xhaka right infront of goal. He had time to set himself and pick his spot and appeared certain to net his 3rd goal with his 3rd shot, but this time he got the connection all wrong and miscued horribly wide, denying himself the most perfect possible send-off. 

Early in the second half Partey momentarily thought he’d put Arsenal 4-0 up but on a replay it was quickly apparent that White had clearly fouled the goalkeeper and the goal was rightly chalked off. However it didn’t take Arsenal much longer to get the 4th goal, an excellent long pass from Jorginho picked out the run of Trossard who waited for support before getting the cross in which was met by the head of Jesus. This was Trossard’s second assist of the game, and already his 10th in Arsenal colours despite only joining in January.  

In the 78th minute, Arsenal got their 5th when a corner eventually fell to Kiwior who got decent contact on the ball. However Sa should have done much better with the effort but instead fumbled it over his goalline. Not only was this goal Kiwior’s first for Arsenal, it also gave Arsenal their 88th league goal of the season, which had the distinction of being their highest ever tally in a Premier League season, this goal taking it clear of their previous best of 87 in the 04/05 season. The 5-0 win was their 26th league win of the season which was the club’s joint most ever in a Premier League campaign, equalling the number won in their league winning campaigns of 01-02 and 03-04. Their final points tally of 84 was their highest since the Invincibles 19 years earlier and their 3rd highest ever in a Premier League season. 

Arsenal player ratings from April to May (must have started a game or else appeared in at least 5 games):

Ramsdale 6/10- Continuing the seasons pattern he produced his best performances at difficult away grounds, winning Arsenal a point with a series of top saves at Anfield and keeping a cleansheet away at Newcastle with a flawlessly solid display. His worst moment of the season came at the worst possible time, a huge error in the first minute of Arsenal’s home game against Southampton, as the team floundered with their title bid on rocky waters.

White 6/10- All Arsenal’s backline suffered with the loss of Saliba and White was no different. The injury to Tomiyasu also meant White was ever-present in Arsenal’s last 10 games. His worst day of the season came in the 3-0 loss to Brighton where he was terrorised by Mitoma. Otherwise White was usually one of Arsenal’s better performers even in games the team did not play well. He finished the season back in his old centre-back slot as Arteta made tactical alterations. 

Holding 3/10-  His first 2 games in place of the injured Saliba went fine with Arsenal winning with a combined aggregate score of 8-2 at home to Palace and Leeds. However as fans feared, when tougher tests emerged Holding was found wanting. He conceded a penalty at Anfield and was bullied by Antonio at West Ham as Arsenal dropped points from commanding positions in both games. At this point it seemed unsustainable to continue with Holding in the team, but Arteta did and that’s on the manager not the player. Arsenal then conceded 3 to bottom placed Southampton and the away match at City went predictably badly with Holding up against Haaland. Though it would be unfair to pin Arsenal’s collapse solely on Holding, I don’t think 21-year old Saliba would’ve prevented nerves and the magnitude of the title run-in from hampering Arsenals displays somewhat, but there is no denying Holding complicated matters further for Arsenal due to his style of wanting to defend from a deep position which clashes with how Arsenal want to play. It is likely that with Saliba or even Kiwior, Arsenal would have at least picked up more points than they did in April.

Kiwior 6/10- Made his first league start against Chelsea and helped Arsenal to look more like themselves and end a winless run of 4 games. He looked similarly composed the following game when tested further away at Newcastle. Ended the season at left-back which could suggest this is where Arteta sees his future. 

Gabriel 6/10- Didn’t look quite the same without his centre-back partner Saliba. Committed a soft foul in the box against West Ham which allowed them back into the match and was the beginning of Arsenal’s collapse. His need to be present in the middle of defence to help with build-up and because Holding does not have the athleticism to defend the area alone meant Zinchenko was often left more isolated as Gabriel could not offer his usual protection on the left side of defence.

Zinchenko 5/10- A tough end to the season for the left-back. His score of 5 is due to what he gives Arsenal on the ball, always giving them a safe passing option with his technical security. However if it was on defending alone, his score would be much lower as his defensive lapses have cost Arsenal goals on a far too regular basis across the final two months of the season.

Tierney 6/10- His gametime has continued to be limited, even when Zinchenko was ruled out the final 3 games with injury, Arteta still chose a different option to fill in. He started just 2 of Arsenal’s last 10 games, struggling away at West Ham trying to replicate Zinchenko’s inverted role and being on the wrong end of a 3-0 loss at home to Brighton. He fared better in his cameos though, shoring up Arsenal’s defence in the second half at Newcastle when Zinchenko was starting to struggle. 

Partey 4.5/10- More than any other player, Partey suffered most from the absence of Saliba. His overplaying which saw him robbed of possession by Rice was the start of things unravelling for him and Arsenal. He made another costly mistake the following game against Southampton losing possession needlessly and Arsenal conceded from the resulting corner to go 3-1 down. After another poor performance away at City, he lost his place to Jorginho. Partey returned to the side in a new right-back role. 

Jorginho 6.5/10- Helped Arsenal return to winning ways with his introduction to the starting line-up at home to Chelsea. Followed it up with a classy performance away at Newcastle but was unable to prevent Arsenal losing their next two at home to Brighton and away at Forest.

Xhaka 6.5/10- Got two assists against Chelsea and was excellent in Arsenal’s away win at Newcastle. Like nearly everyone he struggled in Arsenal’s disastrous April but finished the season with a brace in his last game for the club.

Odegaard 6.5/10- 3 poor giveaways in midfield from the skipper led directly to 3 goals conceded in a six-game run. The sloppy passes from Odegaard in what had become a dysfunctional looking team were punished by Southampton, City and Nottingham Forest respectively. However at the other end the Norwegian had a run of 5 goals in as many games, including a nice goal from outside the box against Southampton to get Arsenal back in the game, a brace against Chelsea to help end Arsenal’s 4-game winless run and the opener away at Newcastle which settled the Gunners down after they’d began under the cosh.                                                                                                                            Vieira 4/10- Started against Southampton but was hooked before the hour-mark after failing to input any personality on the game, and wasting a couple of potential openings. Did not fare any better when appearing off the bench. 

Saka 6/10- His missed penalty at West Ham while Arsenal led 2-1 was one of the defining moments of Arsenal’s season. Mentally and physically the season appeared to take its toll on the youngster as the weeks went on as he seemed without his usual creative spark and explosiveness as the season drew to a close. Re-found it on the last day of the season to score a smashing goal to end a 5-game run without a goal or assist.  

Martinelli 7.5/10- Scored 2 and assisted 2 in Arsenal’s 3 successive draws. Was anonymous away at City but after returning to the starting line-up away at Newcastle produced a top performance. Unlucky to have his season ended two games early. The 21-year old may lack experience but he didn’t lack belief or fighting spirit as he fought hard to keep Arsenal’s title hopes alive. 

Reiss Nelson 6/10- Made a positive impact from the bench when introduced against Southampton and City. 

Jesus 6/10- After 4 goals in 3 games he then endured his most frustrating games thus far for the club against Southampton and City where he did not make a positive impact. Returned to the goals against Chelsea and finished with a goal and assist at home to Wolves. 

Trossard 6.5/10- The return to fitness of Jesus meant Trossard lost his place in the side but when returning to the starting line-up against Chelsea he played well. An uncharacteristic mistake at home to Brighton led to Arsenal conceding the game killing second goal, but he finished the season well with 2 assists vs Wolves.  

Arteta 6/10- The manager had been nearly faultless up to April but in the season defining moments he came up short. His substitutions vs Liverpool and Brighton in particular were eyebrow raising and did not work. His persistence with always starting Saka despite the winger’s apparent lack of fitness aswell as form seemed unnecessary. It was a big ask to keep a young, inexperienced side calm and composed as the pressure built in many players first title race and he was not able to do it. That said, the Emirates Stadium was still near capacity a full hour after the final match of the season against Wolves as fans waited to hear the managers parting message for the summer. This pays testament to the work he has done this season in bringing the fans and the club closer together. 

[martinedjohn]

The Damned Dance at Night Part 2

PART I

TUESDAY

SEPTEMBER 1997

Chapter One: Joe’s Mixtape

How Bizarre – OMC

Joseph James regarded the pale blue sky while he ran his feet through the grass. He put his hands in the air and admired the coat of cobalt-blue polish on his nails with the paler background. They looked lovely.

It was the first day of school, but he didn’t care because he didn’t attend school; he was on his lunch break. He ate a piece of jerky and wished it were dried moose meat. It made him miss his Atsoo. She was soft and round, and she chewed tobacco and beaded moccasins. She had paid his way off the Rez.

His earbuds blasted Push It by Salt N Peppa. The drum machine hit hard, always on time, but the song pulsed with life.

He went over his plan one more time: work, save up money, leave the West Coast, fly out to New York and become a hairdresser. He planned to make the world more beautiful, one person at a time, starting with himself. The city had movie stars, musicians, artists, and professional basketball players. If everything went according to plan, he would have saved enough in a year to move out of his basement apartment and into a basement apartment in the city.

His lunch hour stretched out, and a fresh cool breeze blew across his shaved head. He clipped the one guard up the side to where his head rounded and then a two on top.

He daydreamed that he would work at the most beautiful salon and have designer clothes and shoes and a haircut other than what he’d done himself with a clipper.  THE Madonna would phone, “Listen, Joseph,” she would say, “my regular hairdresser has come down with rheumatoid arthritis. I need your services. My roots are out of control, and my ends are a tragedy. Please! I need you.”

“Madonna, I’m busy,” he would say, “with Janet Jackson. I might be able to fit you in. But -- I’m so busy.”

“Name your price,” Madonna would say, “You’re the BEST.”

“A cool half million,” he would reply, “But you have to tell me the deets on Tupac and Dennis.”

“And Jean-Michel,” she would say, and Madonna would become his best friend.

He succumbed to the cushion of grass and looked up at the clouds. He picked out soft shapes and named them ‘dog-faced horse’ and ‘venomous spider monkey.’ There was a dreamlike quality to today, and it made Joseph feel beautiful.

Me against the World started playing. Pac was a poet. His anger felt real, and the third verse was incredible.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy. No one was coming to save him; he had to save himself—just him against the world.

His thoughts drifted to basketball. There was a game tonight. He watched every Chicago Bulls game. He loved Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, and especially Dennis Rodman. Dennis was the hardest-working player and always had the most fantastic hair (pink, purple, leopard print). Dennis had tattoos and piercings and was the first man he had ever seen in a wedding dress. He looked so beautiful in that dress.

Joseph was a solid baller himself. He was quick, wiry, and just as likely to steal the ball from you as pump-fake you into the air. He was the type of guard you wanted on your team: he could shoot the three-ball, pass into tight traffic, and be a fierce defender. More specifically, His defense was maddening to those he played against. He bodied you hard from half-court and made you pay for every step. He made your life miserable on the court. He knocked you just enough if a ref was watching, and if you were playing Rez ball, he hacked at your arms until you couldn’t hold the ball properly. He worked a lot, but he still shot around at one of the nearby schools when he had the time.

He struggled to rise from the comfortable lawn and returned to the restaurant. His manager greeted him with a cold smile that drained his confidence. It was frowned on that he’d left the restaurant to eat his lunch outside. White people: they were always watching you. He put his apron on and headed into the bustling kitchen. He was looking forward to finishing work. He had promised himself a present, the mall had a two-for-one special on piercings, and he planned on taking advantage of it.

Chapter Two: Sam’s Mixtape

Basket Case – Green Dayhttps://open.spotify.com/embed/track/6L89mwZXSOwYl76YXfX13s

1997 was the worst year, and Sam Graves had decided to end it; he was going to kill himself on Friday night. Punk and comics weren’t working as diversions anymore; all he could think about was death.

Green Day’s Dookie played on his yellow Walkman. It clicked and whirred annoyingly as it played. Its chassis was made of bright canary yellow industrial-strength plastic scarred from carelessness. He carried it with him everywhere.

Tapes were cheaper than CDs, but he wanted a Discman. All the cool kids had them, but he didn’t classify himself as cool; he felt like everyone overlooked him. He stuffed his Walkman further into the bottom of his jacket pocket, pushing his fists into the denim, hoping no one could see how poor he was. 

Welcome to Paradise’s solo kicked in, and his stride quickened to the bass drum. He was halfway to school. It was the first day of his senior year, and he had just turned seventeen. He hardly remembered the party. There was a montage of cake and presents in his head, muddied by his depression.

When I Come Around started playing as he stopped to look at his High School across the street. He noticed most kids had all-new clothes, shoes, and backpacks and looked down at his outfit, feeling embarrassed. He had picked up used Levi’s that were too big for him, a second-hand Rolling Stones tongue-logo shirt and an old black jean jacket that he tie-dyed himself.

He felt poor and stupid. He didn’t want to be here. He turned up his music, put his head down and walked forward.

Chapter Three: Kim’s Mixtape

Energy Flash – Joey Bertram

Kim stopped at the fridge to grab a beer on her way out of the house. It was the first day of school after a fantastic summer. She slipped on her pink gumboots, popped the top off her Budweiser with the flick of a wrist, and bounded out the front door.

The first school day was always disappointing, and she planned on ditching. Kim walked down her driveway, taking small sips of her beer and scheming. She stopped, took a slug of beer, and admired her two-door 1986 AMC Eagle 4x4, a blocky black vehicle that resembled a tank more than a car.  She drove it over everything. She took it everywhere, off-road down thin trails to beaches, over meridians in the center of the road; whatever she threw at the Eagle, it took and kept going.

Kim took her last sip of beer and poured the rest on the front lawn before entering the Eagle and firing the bottle into the backseat. She turned the engine over, felt it ‘BRRMMMM’ to life underneath her, and surveyed the road.

She barreled along the roads to the school, following Sarah’s route. Sarah was her best friend. She enjoyed walking -- said it was an excellent way to clear her chakras and invigorate her mind.

Kim liked driving. Peasants walked.

She placed her hand on the black onyx necklace Sarah had gifted her. It protected her from negative energy and made her patient and determined. She wasn’t sure about the patience piece, but she felt more determined with the necklace. She felt optimistic about her senior year.

She noticed someone walking down the sidewalk. What was his name? He strutted with his headphones on and looked rugged and handsome with tousled auburn hair and jeans worn out in the ass and knees. He looked like he never straightened his shoulders because he wanted to appear smaller. His jaw looked chiseled, but not from working out, more like from grinding his teeth together. Was his name Nick? Didn’t he use to be a soccer player or something? He was mysterious. Did he hang out with the skids or the nerds now?

She arrived at school and noticed Sarah in the gravel parking lot, chatting with one of the Goths. She drove over to her and turned up her music. The stereo flooded the parking lot with Mental Cube’s Q. She skidded to a stop, spraying gravel, and Sarah turned around with a smile. Kim jumped out, leaving the car running and the stereo blaring. Sarah’s face went bright red, but she smiled and danced along.

“Who’s this hot boy?” she said, “Too hot to stay at school today.” She ushered Sarah to her car. “We need beers and bikinis and a beach.”

Sarah pulled away, pondering the right course of action, and then piled into the passenger seat, “Okay,” she said, “but get us out of here before someone sees us.” Kim got into the driver’s seat, hit the gas, and nearly ran into ‘Nick.’

“Hey, you!” Kim shouted, “What’s your name? Nick?”

“No,” he said quietly, “My name is Sam.”

“What are you doing today?”

“Nothing,” he said, staring at his feet.

“Well, how about you hop in with some babes, and we go to the beach?” She looked at Sarah for verification, and she shrugged.

“Well, I don’t….” 

She grinned at him, “Last chance.”

“Sure,” he stammered, and Sarah got out and let him climb into the back of the car. His face was flushed red from excitement.

Kim snickered to herself and hit the gas.

Chapter Four: Sam’s Mixtape

Until It Sleeps - Metallicahttps://open.spotify.com/embed/track/63aVbch5VRXtQnCITdeDTZ

Sam stood in the back of the CD store, browsing the metal section to put space between himself and his schoolmates.

“Whatcha looking at?” Kim surprised him, looking over his shoulder at the CD he held. She plunked her chin on his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. Sam felt her breasts on his back, and his breath quickened. Her energy was frenetic, haphazard, chaotic, and provocative. It was hard to break away once you got sucked into her gravity field. She was incredibly charismatic.

“Metallica.”

“Oh yeah. Those guys used to be cool. Back when they had long hair. They sold out and cut it off.” Kim picked up the album Load. “I heard they mixed all their blood and semen for the cover image. You might get AIDS from the album.”

She rubbed the album on him. He backed away, and the album clattered to the floor. Kim laughed at him as he bent to pick it up, “You can’t get AIDS from just touching something,” she changed topics, “What do you want to do? We’ll buy some hot bikinis and then head to the river. We could bring a picnic. Go grab a couple of beers.”

Sam’s heart leaped into his throat. Beer? He didn’t drink.

“That sounds great,” he heard himself say, and he immediately regretted it. Sam’s heart pounded in his chest.

“And I’ve got magic mushrooms at my place that I’ve been saving for a special occasion. We should get those too.”

Sam looked down at his feet. He sighed and looked back up at Kim’s beaming face.

“It’ll be great. Trust me,” she said, “I might even let you listen to Metallica in the car.”

[justdontaskme]

Calm Takedowns (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

A/N: Please don't get used to a steady stream of fics. It just so happens that I've been really inspired lately. This was a request which you can find here. Hope I have done it justice! Enjoy!

It was about an hour before you were scheduled to head out for pregame warmups and you were sitting in front of your locker, eyes closed with your headphones over your head. 

Alexia was sitting beside you, talking to Patri, one of her hands on the back of your neck, rubbing slightly to keep you at ease and present. It helped you both relax before a game. 

While Alexia was better at talking with her teammates before a game, you were better with visualizations of the game as music blasted in your ears. It was easy to get lost in the music and the soothing feeling of Alexia’s presence. 

You nodded your head, waiting for your girlfriend to stand before doing the same. Bringing your hands up to your face, you closed them into fists, pressing a kiss to your knuckles on each side before holding them out to Alexia.

Eventually, you felt your girlfriend turn, carefully lifting your headphones off, “Listo, mi amor?”

Looking around, you noticed all of your other teammates have already taken off, meaning it was time.

She repeated your movements, fist bumping both of your hands. She then reached around, wrapping her arms around your neck and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Let’s do this,” you said when you both pulled away. Alexia led you out of the room, following after your teammates who have already made it onto the pitch for warmups. 

****

Tensions were high this game, and it didn’t look like it was going to calm down at any second. Really, you shouldn’t have expected anything less from an El Clasico game. 

You were getting frustrated, which led you to be more aggressive than usual. Shoulder checks, subtle shoves, slide tackles, everything you could think of. Yet, you made sure to keep them clean, and just on the right side of the line that bordered a foul call. It was what you were best at. 

Real Madrid was playing rough and have come close too many times for comfort, but Barcelona held their own. It was currently 1-1, Barca’s goal coming from an Alexia-Jenni connection. 

There were less than two minutes left of the game when Real Madrid’s Esther received the ball after an errant pass out of the back from Paños. Esther settled it quickly before making a break for the goal. From your place you saw your keeper still out of position, so you immediately tracked back, determined to keep the forward from getting a shot off. 

With a subtle check over your shoulder, you saw Irene heading towards goal for backup, nearly there as Panos was still repositioning. Knowing you weren’t the last defender, you knew it would be safe to challenge the Real player. 

You went to ground, feet making full contact with the ball just outside the box. The ball went out, but Esther's foot just barely knicked your sliding leg, forcing her down and to the ground.

From your angle, you noticed her hit the ground rather hard, but knew you had made a fair tackle. The second you were on your feet, you heard the roar of the crowd as they were definitely happy with that challenge. 

You stood back up, about to retake your position, when the sound of the center ref’s whistle caught your attention. Confused, you turned your head to see her coming straight at you, her hand going into her pocket. 

Your eyes went wide as your arms flew out to your side in exasperation, "What? That is not a red! Are you blind?”

Your hands immediately started waving back and forth in front of you and you began to plead your case. But it was all for nothing as the ref reached into her pocket, showing you a yellow, closely followed by a red.

The crowd was behind you as you heard a loud chorus of boos echo thought the stadium.

The two of you were quickly swarmed by your teammates as they argued your point, but the ref was having none of that. She pointed straight at you before motioning for you to get off the field. 

Her blatant disregard for your reasoning had you heated. Leila was physically holding you back as you continued to shout over her shoulder at the ref. It wasn’t until Alexia came right up to you, her eyes hard, yet pleading for you not to make this worse. 

At the lack of her support, you turned on your heels and stomped towards the tunnel. You weren't even completely off the field before you were ripping your jersey off. You passed by the coaching staff, all of them out of their seats as they, too, complained about the inexplicable call.

As soon as you were back in the locker room, you chucked your jersey into your locker, toeing your shoes off before roughly tossing them in there as well. With no one else around, you screamed, your hand slamming against the wall as the anger was bubbling inside of you. 

After taking a few deep breaths you reached for your training top, throwing the shirt over your head, as you leaned your forehead against the wall. But you were quickly back at as you continued to slap the wall over and over again, upset at being thrown out over a bad call. 

You were still fuming as you replayed the entire sequence of events in your head. All you could come up with was that it was a soft foul at best. Possibly a yellow, but definitely not a red.

You didn’t even realize people had started to file in until you felt someone hugging you from behind. You turned your head slightly, eyeing the number six on the pair of shorts behind you. Pina’s soft hold on you forced you to take a deep breath, willing your anger to subside for the time being. 

Players were still making their way in, when a staff member poked their head in, informing you that Jonatan was looking for you. Before you left, you patted the young girl’s head, quietly thanking her for her support. As you passed your teammates, you felt Aitana and Patri both give you sympathetic pats on the back. 

Approaching the group outside, you saw Mapi and Alexia in what seemed to be a heated argument with the coaching staff, who turned towards you at the sound of your footsteps. Immediately, your manager was on you. 

"What were you thinking?" Jonatan shouted at you. "Do you know what you've done?"

The anger you thought had dissipated in the locker room simmered within you, but you refused to let it boil over again in front of your coach. You held back as much as you could, knowing that what’s done was done. 

"I did my job," you replied as calmly as you could. 

"No! You may have just cost us this game. Now we'll be a player down for the whole half!" Jonatan said. 

His tone grated on your nerves as you continued to see red around you, but you held it in, "It was a clean tackle. I didn’t even touch her."

Despite being shorter than him, you did not back up when the man got in your face.

"I don't care! The ref gave you a red, so it's a red. You've ruined everything!" Out of the corner of your eye you noticed one of the other coaches trying to reel the man back in. 

You felt a hand on your shoulder, no doubt a teammate trying to do the same to you as your patience was thinning. You'd bet everything you have that it was Alexia, but right now you couldn’t deal with that, so you shrugged her off. 

"That would have been a clear goal if I hadn't stepped in. It's not my fault she tripped and hurt herself!" you argued through grit teeth, your hands clenched at your sides. 

“You let your team down! And now they have to work twice as hard to make up for your mistake,” he sneered. 

At the mention of your team, you stepped back. Everyone knew you lived and breathed for this team. You considered everyone your family. Just the thought that you had burdened them in any way broke you. 

You backed down, deflated, watching as he straightened out his clothing and followed the rest of the staff back to one of the training rooms to regroup and game plan for the second half. 

Angry tears welled in the corner of your eyes, but you didn’t want them to see you break.

After the verbal lashing from the coaching staff, you turned around to find half your team staring at you in shock. You don't know how long they had been there, but you wouldn't be surprised if they came out at the first sign of shouting.

They were used to you being so calm, cool, and collected off the field, the opposite of you on the field. But they had expected more of a reaction from you. However, they also weren't blind to the obvious tension straining throughout your body. 

"Give her some time," Mapi suggested, an arm going over Alexia's shoulder, as she led the captain back to the team to give a rallying speech. 

"Mi amor," Alexia approached you apprehensively.

Not in the mood, you shrugged her off again before walking straight past your teammates and the locker room. You didn’t even register the look of hurt on Alexia's face. 

****

Once you were off on your own, you fell back against a wall, working your way through a few breathing exercises to get your emotions in check. Even though a few tears managed to get away from you, you felt much better.

You gave yourself a few more minutes of replaying everything in your mind and compartmentalizing. You created a group of emotions for the game, another for your teammates, one for Alexia, and one for the coaching staff. You put all the emotions for the game and the staff away, wanting to focus on your team and your girlfriend.

After feeling like you had a handle on your emotions once again, you headed to the locker room, waiting just outside.

She turned around to face you and you just dropped your head onto her shoulder, ashamed of not only being kicked out but also for how you reacted afterwards.

You put on a happy face, high-fiving each of them as they came out. A few stopped to give you a quick hug, and more reminded you that they had your back. It warmed your heart.

Unsurprisingly, your girlfriend was the last one out. Reaching out, you grabbed her arm, so she knew you wanted a second alone with her. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your apology partially muffled as you pressed your face against her chest. 

Alexia pressed a kiss to the side of your head, her arms bringing your body closer until it was flush against  her. 

“It’s okay, mi amor,” she said, hugging you tight to make sure you knew how genuine her words were, “It wasn’t your fault.”

The two of you continued to soak in the moment, as you appreciated having someone know you so well that nothing more needed to be said. Instead, she held you the way you needed her to. 

A shout of her name broke you two apart, and you knew you had to let her go. Even if you really didn’t want to, “Good luck out there, Ale.”

"Este partido es para ti," she squeezed your hand, kissing your cheek before she took off. 

Reaching for your phone, you tuned into the game, another fifteen minutes left of the game. The intensity of the game hadn’t eased whatsoever. The game was still locked at 1-1, and you were worried about it going into extra time. You could see the fatigue starting to set in on your teammates and knew extra time could spell disaster. 

Now that the locker room was vacated once again, you walked in with the idea that a shower would do you some good. You needed to wash away the grime of the day.

Afterwards, you wrang your hair dry as best you could before reaching into Alexia's locker and throwing on her hoodie. Her smell instantly helped you settle.

You nearly jumped in the air when there was a rough challenge on Pina in the box, leading to a penalty with only a few precious minutes left of the game. 

Anxiously, you watched as Alexia stepped up to the spot, ball in hand. She eyed Misa carefully, making sure to give nothing away. But you already knew that no matter what happened, Alexia was going to score. 

Knowing and seeing it were two different things. As soon as you saw the ball slide just past Misa's fingers and into the net, your hand punching the air. You almost cried when you saw Alexia celebrate by purposely running over to the fans in the stand shrugging her shoulders. 

It was a reminder of when you had scored your first goal for Barca. In your shocked state of scoring, you had no idea how to celebrate. You ran around and around, and when your teammates had swarmed you, you had merely shrugged at them. The team had teased you because of it, and over time it had just become your thing. 

Once the game was over, you wiggled your way into the locker, knees up to your chest as you placed your headphones over your head. You dropped your head until your forehead was against your knees, blocking out the world as you tried to put this game behind you. 

You don’t know how much time had passed, but the next thing you knew, your headphones were being pulled off. 

Raising your head, you saw all of your teammates staring back at you with huge smiles on their faces. And as if it was planned, which it probably was, they all shrugged their shoulders at you. 

You chuckled as you dragged yourself out of your locker, standing up just in time to be pulled into a group hug. Slowly, the group broke up as everyone went about their own routines so they could head out to celebrate. 

“Is this mine?” Alexia asked, as pulled you into her side, pinching the side of the hoodie you were wearing. 

“Maybe?” you answered, shyly looking anywhere but at her. 

“Looks good on you, mi amor,” Alexia said, her grin wide as she looked you up and down. “Feeling better?”

You nodded your head, burying yourself into her body. 

“I’m going to have a word with Jonatan.”

“You don’t have to, Ale. I’ve put it behind me,” you replied, looking at her.

She shook her head, “I don’t care. He does not get to talk to you like that. You are one of our best players and we wouldn’t be here without you.”

Hearing those words from her meant everything. You could receive praises from fans, coaches, and critics all day long, but none of them would hold a candle to hearing one from your girlfriend. 

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips against hers in a deep, slow kiss. You just wanted to make sure she knew how much you appreciated everything she did for you.

You almost forgot where you were until you heard a few wolf whistles and catcalls from your lingering teammates. 

Shyly you pulled away, but Alexia was having none of that. She turned around and in her most authoritative captain voice told everyone to mind their own business. And when they did, she was cradling your face in her hands, so she could pull you into another kiss.

[jaypsnax]

Art Fight(and not) Things !! Welcome to the grey canvas show. Premature posting for over half of them and late posting for the rest, but reasons for that below the cut. As well as some context for each.

1st is a ref I made for my sona, which has yet to be put up. Been delayed due to working on other things and still not having a name. 2nd is a NB visibility Floofty I kinda just.... cobbled together? Not sure if it’s all that great, *and* it’s late, but... well. Hrgrhrhgrhgrhgr 3rd is the start of the AF things with @snakjomo‘s Journalist, whom I’ve become very fond of in my time consuming Bugsnax content. Their design might be subject to change, but I’ll love em either way <3 4th is Quillda Tiddlything from @calliopepreforms who is ADORABLE, I love her cute lil stubby legs, hair, and oversized glasses. She’s like prime pick up and cuddle material, absolutely amazing. 5th and 6th are both @cheesesteakphil​‘s Orlifa Featherbean (sure do draw lots of journalists, huh?) and the first I got a bit too ambitious with while I hope they don’t mind the slightly shippy content of the second >.> If not then We Are Shaking Hands On Appreciating Floofy

So! Additional context... well, frankly, the Art Fight work hasn’t exactly been going swimmingly. I’ve been trying new things and have Sort Of had ideas, but it’s been just as much sitting still as moving forward, frankly. And I’d felt bad that it seemed like I had nothing to show, while getting frustrated with the inability to properly finish anything. Iunno, I’ve gotten impatient and also in some weird way showing stuff might help my brain move forward. I hope it doesn’t come off as... lazy or anything like that :l 1st image has already been pretty explained. I drew it shortly after the previous reference for a commission because I just wanted to do something new. It’s a little samey in expression and not as neat in terms of composition, while lacking in details like the headphones and lil cassette player, but I figured I could pair them together to shore up on any missing bits. 2nd also pretty self-explanatory, and shows a trend I have with expressions for SURE. Like, left corner of the mouth up type beat. I’m tryna break outta habits with this stuff, but it is Not Easy. That bow tie kicked my ass too. And I’m not sure I’m entirely satisfied with what I came up with, ultimately, but I didn’t want to wait too long either. Even though NB Visiblity Day’s already passed us up regardless. Floofty’s existence means a lot to me and I had to do *something*, y’know? 3rd has a bit of extra detail in that I meant for it to be a sequence. Like Buddy and Filbo sitting at the campfire and all that with a side of Gay Realization and such. The good stuff. Unfortunately, I’d been struggling a lot with composition and have No Idea have to do backgrounds. To the point where I couldn’t come up with anything additional. What’s there is ok, but the missed potential is horribly frustrating. Just hope it’s alright enough. Lighting’s kinda scuffed too, I know. ...I should stop looking so closely. 4th is yet another thing that doesn’t need too much explanation beyond “haha tiny journalist :)” tbh. It’s really not the best little sketch, but I also felt bad not including it? Have To Express The Love And If I Don’t I Die. 5th and 6th are a whole load because I originally started with the first bit from suddenly being struck with the idea of Orlifa in that comfy denim jacket from their ref in snow or smthn. While having a lil detail of when you do that like... exhale from the side of your mouth in the winter thing in mind. Got pretty experimental with the coloring and shading and things like that, which has been a learning experience for sure, even if I’m not 100% of the result. Backgrounds are not and will likely continue to not be my strong suit, but I’m hoping to get better about it. Probably not the best idea to be trying to go all out during a time limited event, however I uh... just care a little too much ahahhh... Had even been trying to take up painting to do a piece of Egg’s(Snakjomo’s) Neme and Cath. Or one of them, at least. SO much brain hurty. Anyway, with that second sketch I just thought it might be neat to do more than one thing for them. I like drawing interactions I know they like Floofty, so.. one thing led to another and there’s that. *Had* to do something with Orlifa for that sweet sweet Floofty Enjoyer and NB Solidarity. Then uh... that’s that. There’s other works, but they’re not really Bugsnax related, so I opted to omit them. While a lot of this stuff is sketchy af and ultimately unfinished, I hope they’re worth at least a little to everyone who got something. Might not be all there is, but my pace is gonna be horribly slow. So (maybe) stay tuned for any of that.

[13uswntimagines]

Loser Buys Dinner (Lindsey x Reader)

Request: team goes to an ice rink and the reader is really good at ice skating and the team didn't know. you can add a pairing if you want

Author’s Note: Special Thanks to @literaryhedgehog​!!! Also this one has a slightly awkward ending, but we thought it fit. 

You stared at the sign as Kelley brought the car to a park. Ice Town skating rink blazed in neon letters as the outline of a skate seemed to circle around them. Around you, you heard the chattering of your teammates as they registered where you had come for today’s team bonding activity. They at least were excited. You unbuckled your seatbelt and followed Rose out of the car, still not taking your eyes off the neon image circling around your vision. It was fine. Today would be fun. 

“Hey fun size, you excited?” Lindsey bounced up to walk at your side. You flicked your head slightly to clear your thoughts and turned to smile quickly at her.

“I guess. It’s definitely been a while since I’ve ice skated.” 

“Don’t worry,” Lindsey said grinning, “I’ll stay with you the whole time if you’re worried about falling.”

“I won’t fall,” you said matter of factly. Lindsey raised an eyebrow. Before she could challenge you to a competition that she would lose, you said “if anything I’m worried about you. If you fall you’ll get frostbite.”

If Lindsey was concerned about the cold, she didn’t show it. She was from Colorado and was quite used to the terrible temperature. While Kelley had instructed everyone to wear layers, Lindsey was only wearing a jacket and flannel over a pair of skinny jeans. She grinned at your comment and shrugged. “I’ll be fine. What’s it going to be, like 30 degrees?”

“Yes. That is literally the temperature ice freezes at.”

“It’s just your California blood that makes you chill faster,” she smirked, elbowing your side. 

You rolled your eyes at her and entered the building. As the smell of the ice rink washed over you you inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled through your mouth, intentionally relaxing the muscles that had tensed up at the memories the smell elicited. You still felt your spine straighten from habit, but chose to ignore it. 

“Are we sure this is a good team bonding activity. Like what if we break our legs before the game?” Rose asked, strapping a skate on her foot. She had always been the clumsier of the team. 

“We ran it by the coaches and they signed off on it so long as we’re all willing to be serious. Looking at you Sonnett. No fooling around on the ice. There are walls to hold onto if you feel unbalanced Rosie, but it’s a good chance to practice our flops if you feel like you’re going to fall. Remember- fall back and protect your head.” Carlie said with a grin.

“And then you want us to roll on the ice for the pretend ref?” Lindsey asked, quirking her eyebrow up at the ludicrous implication. There weren’t going to be any hands going near any skate paths. 

“The pretend ref would assume you were throwing a temper tantrum if you did since NO ONE will be skating at each other,” Beckey said, looking up from tightening her skate to catch the eye of each troublemaker on the team. 

Emily frowned, there went her idea of trying to joust with their umbrellas. 

“You alright?” Lindsey asked, sliding her hand along your lower back. 

“Yeah,” you said, looking at the rink logo imprinted in the center of the ice. 

“Well you’re kinda blocking the entrance to the rink,” Lindsey said very close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. When did she get so close to you?

You blinked away the feeling of a spotlight and thousands of eyes in your back to look back at her. Then you grinned slowly, “Just… creating some anticipation.” 

“I know you Californians probably don’t know much about moving on the ice, but you’re not supposed to just stand and stare at it,” she said, kissing your cheek. “just remember that I won’t let you fall,”  

You raised your eyebrows at her, then turned around fully to face her, still blocking the entrance intentionally. “Wanna make a bet Linessie? Because I think you’ll fall more than I do today.”

“In your dreams short stuff,” she snorted, refraining from saying that she had fallen for you already. 

“You taking the bet or not?” You said, a little louder this time so that you caught the attention of Emily and the rest of the youngins.

Linsey’s grin grew to match your own, “I’m always game, you know that,”

“Loser has to eat like Carlie for a week?” You proposed, sticking out your hand for her to shake.

“Hm, those stakes aren’t high enough. Loser has to eat Alex’s weird vegan shit for a week,” Lindsey said, her lips ticking up at your scrunched nose. 

“That would be cruel. I’m not doing that to you. Loser pays for winner’s Costco run?” 

“I think you’re just scared you won’t be able to eat ice cream for a week,” Lindsey scoffed, crossing her arms. 

“Okay, I tried to go easy on you,” you said, shaking your head dramatically. “If you’re willing to eat like Alex for a week, I’ll take that bet.”

“You’re on pipsqueak,” Lindsey shook your outstretched hand, squeezing it a little too tightly. 

You grinned at her and holding her gaze stepped backward onto the ice, crossing one foot over the other to gain speed as you glided to the center of the floor. 

It felt natural, as though the last 12 years had only been 2. You did a quick counter turn, letting the muscle memory carry you over the ice. You did a twizzle and grinned. Not too shabby. 

“Holy fuck,” Lindsey said, her jaw dropped as you glided effortlessly across the ice. So much for her plan to be your hero on the ice. Your protector from the cold. 

“Shoulda pretended you were the terrified one,” Emily snickered, bumping her lightly as she passed her. You may be oblivious to Lindsey’s feelings, but the rest of the team was not. 

Lindsey shook her head and skated off after you, not as smooth on the ice as you were, but pretty damn close. She had always preferred hockey over figure anyway. She easily caught up with you, skating relatively close behind you. 

You saw her and turned, arabesqueing a leg into the air behind you. Then you leaned into a tight camel spin so you looped around Lindsey as she moved. 

“You forwards are always such show-offs,” Lindsey rolled her eyes, catching your outstretched hand once both feet were back on the ice and pulling you close to her. 

“Cause diving headers and Bicycle Kicks are totally not showing off either,” you said, scrunching your nose at her. 

“How did a Cali girl like you learn to skate?” She asked, moving so she was behind you again, holding your waist as you skated. 

“Some way most girls who don’t live in a frozen wasteland do,” you said, shrugging. “I took lessons.”

“Wasn’t action-packed enough for our little firecracker?” Lindsey questioned and you could practically hear her eyebrow ticking up. 

You fought to keep your smile normal. “Believe it or not, there was a time when I wasn’t a firecracker and didn’t like being the center of attention.”

“Not a firecracker, impossible. I’m pretty sure most defenses are terrified of you, especially after you made that English defender pee her pants when she went after Mal,” Lindsey carefully pulled you into her chest resting her head on your shoulder, mindful that you two were still hurtling along the ice. 

You grinned. “Well, she deserved it.” You leaned out to the side then in again, pulling you both into a gentle spin. “But yeah, around middle school I dropped out of skating. My partner for pairs skating broke his ankle skateboarding and,” you paused, trying to find the words to explain, “I just really didn’t like singles.”

“Is it bad that I’m glad he got hurt? Cause now I get to be your pairs partner and you never have to be single again if you don’t want…” Lindsey mumbled, glad that you weren’t facing each other. She wasn’t sure she could have looked you in the eye and finally shot her shot. 

“Well, I am known for being a damn good team player, even if I am a showoff,” you nudged Lindsey playfully. “But I refuse to eat vegan for a week. I need my chocolate icecream.”

“Well,” said Lindsey with a dramatic sigh, “how about we amend the bet. Loser pays for dinner on the first date?”

Lindsey waited just a second for your agreement, enjoying the feeling of you in her arms, and then she gently pushed you away. You slid easily across the ice, turning just in time to see Lindsey “trip” and fall to her knees. 

“Guess I’m buying,” she said smirking up at you, her blond hair framing her face. 

“It’s a date loser,” You smiled so wide, your pink cheeks started to hurt. 

“You’re supposed to flop backward, Linds,” Carlie called across the ice.

[alicanta77]

[7:02pm]

You stumbled slightly as you tried to manoeuvre your way through the multiple shivering bodies sat on the bleachers. The pitch in front of you was lit with flood lights, illuminating the stage for the game that was about to begin. Your eyes caught an arm dramatically waving at you, attempting to catch your attention and you grinned at the sight of your boyfriend’s friend, Donghyuck.

You quickly made your way over to him, setting in next to him and Renjun as they both greeted you.

“Y/n! Long time no see!” Donghyuck wrapped you up in a quick hug, Renjun giving you a wave from the other side of him. “I’m glad you managed to make it after all.”

“We ended early today, so I headed over as soon as I could. I didn’t want to miss this!” You explained, looking back out to the field as the players began to jog out from the changing rooms.

You studied the backs of the lacrosse team, searching for Jeno’s number. Your gaze finally landed on one boy in particular, the Lee 24 proudly displayed on his back. Next to him stood, Na 53, another clear indication that that was your boyfriend and his best friend. You watched as they were brought into a huddle, doing a quick cheer before splitting up to their starting positions.

Jeno moved to stand on the circle, Jaemin moving to opposite end of the pitch. You leaned over to Donghyuck, raising your voice over the crowd to ask him a question.

“What position is Jeno playing today?”

“Wing attack.” Donghyuck answered. “Jaemin’s being played in defence, coach has given him a long stick, but apparently he may bump him up into the midfield if he’s needed.”

You nodded at his words, looking back out to the players as the referee positioned the ball for the centre draw, ran back a few steps and blew the starting whistle. The ball shot off the ground, instantly in the opposition’s possession.

You bit your lips anxiously, watching as the ball flew from stick to stick, never staying in one person’s net for too long, making it difficult for Jeno’s team to apply pressure on body defence.

“They’re forcing them to only attempt interceptions.” Renjun muttered, making you nod.

“They’re not keeping the ball long enough for anyone to tackle.” You groaned in agreement.

Suddenly, the attacker Jaemin was defending, attempted a roll dodge, planting one foot and aiming to roll in the other direction, but Jaemin was prepared. He anticipated the move, managing to tackle the attacker’s stick and forcing him to drop the ball. He picked it up, wasting no time in passing it to Jeno who immediately began to run down the field.

Cheers came up from the crowd as they watched their team begin to turn the game over. Jeno passed quickly to another attacker, before cutting in front of the goal, receiving a pass and shooting with all his might towards the goal.

The ball sailed past the goalie, the ref blowing their whistle quickly to signal a goal. The sidelines erupted, standing on their feet cheering as the players jogged their way back to their starting positions, preparing to do it all over again.

45 minutes, one portion of nachos and three short teams breaks later, it was approaching the end of the final quarter of the game. Both teams were tied with 6 - 6 and right now nobody could tell who was going to win. It had been an intense game, possession and domination on the pitch constantly switching between the two sides. 

The ref called a foul and Donghyuck took the few seconds to lean over next to you and say:

“Jeno’s gonna be really happy to see you.”

You smiled at him, biting your lip shyly as you thought about how much you had missed him. It wasn’t easy, being in a long distance relationship, but the effort was always worth it when you saw him again.

The whistle blew to restart the game just as the countdown of the final 30 seconds began. It was in the oppositions possession and they were poised to score. One attacker dodged around their defender, using the opportunity to take a shot. The ball hurtled towards the goal, looking as though it was going to go in until the goalie stepped forwards and saved it.

The crowd gasped in sync, relief flooding the atmosphere as the goalie stepped out of their circle, looking for a pass. Jeno began to run down the pitch, holding his stick up as an option. The goalie saw him and immediately sent the ball his way.

However the pass was too long, forcing Jeno to almost jump into the air to catch it. Luckily he managed to get it safely into the net of his stick and bring it into his body. He tore down the field, dodging past defenders effortlessly. You looked at the clock and saw how there were only 10 seconds left. If Jeno didn’t get this goal soon, the victory would be lost.

He approached the final defender, running easily past him and approached the goal. The only thing standing between him and victory was this goalkeeper. He lifted his stick up past his head as the clock hit 5 seconds. He swung down, the ball leaving the net of his stick at speed as it shot towards the left side of the goal. It sailed past the goalie stick, landing safely in the back of the goal as the final whistle blew.

The crowd erupted, everybody standing as they cheered and the players ran into the middle of the pitch for a group hug. You were smiling so hard, your face was beginning to hurt, but it didn’t matter, your boy had won. The teams cheered each other and shook hands, before they headed towards to greet their classmates and families who were watching on the stands.

Jeno pulled off his helmet and looked up to where he knew Donghyuck and Renjun were sitting, his jaw dropping at the sight of you there next to them. He let go of his helmet and stick, both of them falling to the ground as he jogged towards the bleachers. 

You hurriedly made you way down to the bottom, bursting out of them as you ran towards him. He met you just on the pitch side, wrapping you up in a tight hug as he buried his face in your neck. You could hear the lacrosse team and Renjun and Hyuck whooping and cheering for the two of you, but you didn’t care. In that moment, all you could focus on was Jeno, and finally having him back in your arms.

You could feel Jeno’s arms around your lower back, them moving slightly as he tried to pull off his gloves. Eventually he pulled away from the hug, discarding his gloves on the floor and bringing his hands up to cup your face, as if he still couldn’t believe that you were really there.

“You’re here?” He whispered, his voice barely audible over the chatter and celebration in the background.

“I’m here.” You replied, smiling up at him.

Jeno leaned in, wasting no more time before pressing his lips to yous. His arms moved back down to grip your waist, while yours wound around his neck as you kissed him back. He kissed you over and over again, only pulling away when he needed to breathe. You didn’t notice the pitch clearing out and the players heading back to the locker room, nor did either of you care. You were too wrapped up in finally being back together.

Jeno pulled away from you, leaning down to rest his forehead on yours as he relaxed. His thumbs rubbed comforting circles into your waist as he breathed out a soft:

“I missed you.”

You smiled, repeating the sentence back to him as you moved further into his embrace. He held you tight, squeezing his eyes shut to fight the emotion he was feeling at finally seeing you again. But as he looked down at you, reunited with the one he loved, he knew, he was the luckiest man alive.