#neymars move hit me hard

[aastraeus]

No arbitrary debates about what he "should" have achieved can ever take away what Neymar means to the game. He inspired a generation to see football not just as a matter of wins and losses but as an art form. The seat next to Ronaldinho is taken. And it's the boy from Mogi das Cruzes who occupies it.

Football-mad teenagers the world over stayed up on shoddy Brazilian streams just for the boy with the Mohawk and the nasal strips. And for those who needed to sleep, the next day YouTube compilations made sure that everyone knew exactly what audacious skill he pulled off the night before.

While others left Brazil early, hellbent on proving themselves in the European game. Neymar seemed to understand more than most that it isn't really about how where you play the game that attracts an audience. It's about how you play it.

The very embodiment of Joga Bonito. His game so beautiful that the only way to combat it was through brute force. While some hold his injury record against him, watch back any of the horror tackles he used to receive routinely and it starts to make more sense. The violence that his artistry inspired ultimately became his downfall. An irony so bittersweet that it could only be devised by the football gods.

In any other era, he'd have a Ballon d'Or. But is it really such a big deal that he doesn't? A Champions League trophy, Puskás Award, Copa Libertadores, and ten league titles is a career that most can only dream of. And with Pele's record for Brazil only a goal away from being his, his importance to A Seleção Canarinha will soon be a matter of historical record. No matter what the naysayers have to say about it.

In an age when players are increasingly becoming robotic, we seem to forget that we've been graced with a genius whose talents could never be boiled down to numbers. A career that should be celebrated, not put under a microscope.

You can debate as much as you like. But don't let the discourse keep you from enjoying Neymar. For all his talents and all his faults. Because when it's over, there won't be anyone like him again.

Credit: Copa90 | Via Instagram

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - City Girls Part 1/8

Yeah, this request from wattpad was too good to ignore. 😮‍💨

I'm prioritizing it above all else

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit it off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

Leaving home wasn't easy, but preventing yourself from going back home was the real torture. You asked god, "Why does somthing I love bring me so much torture?" God did not answer your nightly prayers. You had come to learn that God often left your messages on read.

"Y/N, don't dribble so much, pass the ball!"

Your family pushed you to move to England. Now you're living there in a one bedroom apartment, shared with another academy girl named Ester.

"Y/N, don't run pass the defender! DON'T RUN PASS THE DEFENDER!"

Ester is from Germany, the grey weather in Manchester did not bother her. You, however, missed the white beaches of Rio de Janeiro. You missed your home country, Brazil. You missed your family, your Mãe e Pai. Your brothers and your sister. You missed them all.

"What did I tell you about dribbling passed the defenders? You can't do that in the Super League. Passing the ball to your teammates is better. Do you understand?"

You nodded your head, although coach did not make any sense. Dribbling the ball is always better. Dribbling is what Neymar does. You want to be like Neymar.

"What am I going to do with you?" Coach sighed. For him there was a clear communication barrier. Your English wasn't that good but when it came to football you understood the way: score goals and win. Isso é tudo.

"Y/N, you wait here. There is someone I would like for you to meet."

Coach left you on the field with Manchester City's U21 stepping onto the grass, warming up ahead of their training session. You found a ball and started kicking it. One kick turned into two, two kicks turned into a swift dribbling session. Once you caught the attention of the academy boys and their head coach, they had no reason not to let you play with them.

"You see lad's, that's how I want you to do it. Glue the boll to your feet." Their head coach used you as an example. He had you running up and down the field, between cones as well as the young players. All they could do was watch and learn.

"Y/N!"

Your session with the academy boy's came to and end once coach returned to the field. He stood on the sidelines waving you over. He was accompanied by a man, tall and braud shoulders, his arms folded before him like a man in charge. He wore the Manchester City players training kit, however, you had never seen the man before.

"Y/N, meet Ruben Dias. Ruben, this is Y/N, our new star player all the way from Rio de Janeiro."

"Ótimo, outro aspirante." (Another wannabe) You chuckled.

The man raised a brow, but couldn't possibly have...

"Y/N, struggles a bit during practice." Coach said. "The languages barrier makes it hard for me to instruct her what to do. I thought if the three of us worked together she might find a good rhythm here at Manchester City."

The man beside coach didn't nod at what was being said to him. He kept his eyes on you, examining you, judging you. "I'll see what I can do." He said, his deep voice startling you.

"Great!" Coach turned to you, a braud smile on his lips. "Did you here that Y/N, if you ever need anything don't hesitate to ask Ruben. You'll find him in the main building with the first team."

Coach made you and Ruben shake hands before you were allowed to hit the showers. You returned home with wet hair since leaving it to air dry was the only way to tame your curls.

"Look at you, you made it home!" Ester, your roommate, exclaimed. She stood in the kitchen, hovering over a steaming pot. "I thought you got lost again." She invited you to taste whatever she was cooking.

"What is it?" You frowned. You leaned over to look into the pot. However, the smell flaring up your nostrils was no good.

"Rindergulasch."

"Perdão?" (Pardon?)

"Rindergulasch? It's like a beef stew."

You curled your lip, you stomach having ached for nothing.

"Come on, try it. You'll love it."

You tried it and didn't love it. However you were too tired to cook for yourself. You and Ester settled down on the couch before the TV. The pullout couch that was also your bed.

"Coach held you back after training again. What did you do now?" Ester asked.

"No dribbling." Yku said, between a spoon full of gulasch.

"I told you. It's not really how they play the game in England."

"In Germany?" You asked, to which Ester shook her head. "I don't think any team in Europe play the game like that, at least not the way they do it in Brazil."

If this was the case, perhaps England wasn't for you? You went to bed that night praying. You prayed whenever there was something on your mind, something disrupting it. "God, they don't play football here the way we play it in Brazil, the way I want to play it. Does this mean I should go back home? Was today a sign that I should move back home?"

Once again, God didn't answer. He must be too busy. You got up from the floor, where you previously sat with your hands clasped before you, elbows resting on the bed. You went to sleep that night dreaming of football and gulasch, an odd combination.

[missgavi]

Shower sex with gavi? 🤭

I'm doing this as a part two to [x] , also , sorry for taking so long. I literally forgot about this request 😭

Running with the ball away from Gavi, the boy letting you enjoy your moment, you shoot the ball into the net and celebrate your goal, your hands up in the air celebrating your goal Neymar style.

Your boyfriend smiled fondly at you before throwing you over his shoulder and walking inside the house. His hand was drumming some random beat on your bum while you giggled on his shoulder.

"What are you doing ?" you ask when you two reach the bathroom. The boy places you down before starting to peel your clothes off your sweaty body. One of his hands reaches over into the shower to turn the water on.

"keeping my promise" he says before kissing your lips. Gavi undressed himself next before hoisting you up into his arms and walking into the shower with you in his arms.

Prompting you up against the wall, the boys lips smash against yours while the cool water ran down your bodies, refreshing the two of you while also washing all the sweat and grass from your skin.

Pablo's lips move down your neck, sucking red marks on the column of your throat while you threw your head back against the wall, moaning at the feeling of his hard dick poking against your belly.

Reaching down between your bodies, you give his cock a few thrusts, the boy groaning against your skin, his mouth now covering your nipple, his teeth playfully biting the sensitive nerve.

Guiding him towards your entrance , before you could say ask him to fuck you already, his hips thrust forward, entering you in one quick move.

"Joder" he boy groaned, giving both of you a second to adjust to the feeling before his hips began building up a steady rhythm.

Your mouth was opened, constant moans leaving your throat. Your nails were scratching his back, his own hands digging into your hips. His cock repeatedly hit your g-spot, your thighs beginning to shake in Gavi's hold.

Your boyfriend connected your lips, his tongue entering your mouth and quickly dominating yours, your moans mixing together.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum" you whine, moving to suck a hickey on Gavi's neck, one he would definitely get teased about by Pedri and Ansu.

Throwing his head back, the spaniard picked up his pace. "Me too bebe, fuck, be a good girl and come for me" he muttered, chasing his own high.

One precise thrust made you come hard around his cock, your walls clenching around him , triggering his own released.

Guiding the two of you through out your climaxes, soon enough Gavi was pulling out of you, his lips gently kissing yours.

" we should play football more often" you mused, making the boy laugh and kiss you again.

[peaky-shelby]

Bulldog | Mbappe x Reader

Requested by @mrs-bellingham : "I’m not saying it was a good idea, I'm saying I snapped"

Writer's note: originally requested for Virgil Van Dijk, thank you for letting my change it into kylian again and sorry. For future requests if anyone is wondering for now I'm writing for Kylian, neymar, hakimi, Bellingham and Mason. You can always request with other players but it just isn't certain I'll do it. Love you all xx

Maybe it’s not that bad, I thought to myself. Pacing back and forth on the changing rooms, if it were any other time I would hate being there. The strong perfumes always made my stomach twist and turn I hated it but right now something else was making my stomach twist and turn which I hated even more. I rubbed my face with my hands, like it was a lamp and I could wish for time to get back and I could stop him from doing what he did but time seemed to be remaining painfully slow and moving forward. I was panicking, exaggerating, making a bid deal out of nothing-

“We have a problem-“ Kylian walked in behind you, opening and closing the door quickly, pretty much ruining all my hopes that it was all in my head. I turned around to face him, holding my hands in fists. I had been dealing with the drama that came with being friends with Kylian pretty well, I had accepted it, along with the constant following of the paparazzi. When you started dating you both tried to kept it a secret for as long as he could and it seemed to be working out until-

“You punched the fucking guy in the face-“

“I know!” he said, raising his hands, like he was being called by a referee for a foul.

“Oh you know?” I asked, mocking him “that sucks because I would prefer for you to tell me you were hypnotized or something.”

“How would that be better?”

You reached down at one of the benches, snatching the closest thing you could find which was a psg shirt and threw at him “how Is just punching a guy out of the blue a better idea?”

“Hey!” he held the shirt in his hands “I never said it was a good idea. I’m saying I snapped!”

“couldn’t you have snapped at a wall or something?”

“They guy was taking pictures of us! Why are you mad at me?” he yelled back. I took a deep breath in and sat on the nearest bench, holding my head in my hands, fearing that it might even explode. I heard him sighing and cursing until he sat next to me. I couldn’t even look at him, I was feeling all sorts of emotions, fearing for tomorrow’s headlines and articles, the impact it would have on his public figure. “I’m sorry” he mumbled; I knew how hard it must have been for him to do. I titled my head to look at him, he was staring at the floor. “I thought I could get the camera and the pictures would never be leaked- I was trying to save it as much as I could-“

“Famous last words.” I joked and looked away again.

“I know what these pictures of us making out seeing the light is gonna do to you, I wanted to stop him.”

“You broke his jaw.”

“That’s-“ he searched for the right words “I didn’t break his jaw. He is overreacting. I’ve had tougher hits on the field”

“I’m pretty sure he was bleeding-“

“The floors are red you wouldn’t know if he was bleeding-“

You looked a him shocked about to laugh “That’s what you’re going with?”

“Listen he’ll be fine, ok? Will this be a story? Maybe-“

“Definitely” you corrected.

“Probably. Will I need to pay for his doctor appointments in the near future?”

“Absolutely.”

“Do I regret it?”

“I hope so!”

“No.” he answered bluntly. I was taken aback by how serious he looked, like he was making a confession that if it came down to it, he would do it again. “Hey look at me.” He placed his hand on my cheek, his touch was doing things to me without even trying. He pushed my hair behind my ear, smiling because he knew that always made me weak. “That guy said things about you, he took inappropriate pictures of you without your permission, I’d knock him out again if I had to.” I couldn’t help but feel love him in that moment, the way his eyes fell on me sent shivers down my spine. Like I was his and only his and no one else was allowed to even look at me without his permission. I leaned in and kissed him, a sloppy kiss, that would give him the reward he deserved for protecting me.

“My loyal bulldog, biting anyone that gets close enough.” You whispered in his lips.

“Damn right!” he replied, pushing me back on the bench so he’d be laying on top of me, kissing my cheek and then my neck, leaving a small bite on my skin, that made me laugh. “Sometimes biting you too” he said, making me laugh even more. He slipped his hands under my shirt, his hands on my skin finding their place on my waist. Getting caught on the hallways obviously taught us nothing because we were about to finish what we started and we would have if the door didn’t crack open, making us both jump on our feet.

“OH!” said Neymar disgusted closing his eyes “You guys wanna get a room or something- for fuck’s shake.” He opened his eyes slowly, making sure no one was naked “Coach wants to see you. Now.”

“Merde…” He looked at me, a sympathetic expression on his eyes and gave me one last kiss “I love you.”

“Love you too Kyky.”

“Yeah, have fun in there-“ he patted Kylian In the back, while I stood back watching him leave. I looked up at Ney, worried.

“Is he gonna be ok?”

“He’s gonna get a good yelling but he will survive don’t worry.” He looked at me smiling “are you gonna be, ok?”

“Sure.”

I went home without him and waited for him to return. Turns out he had been benched for next game, coach wasn’t happy for his reaction at all but Kylian seemed pretty chilled, despite the consequences. We cuddled on the couch, my head on his chest, his hand messing with my hair while I slowly fell asleep in his arms. “Thank you” I whispered, getting his attention. He looked down at me confused and I raised my head as much as I could to look at him “I didn’t say thank you or sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, almost laughing at my sudden gratitude or apology.

“For what you did for me.”

He smiled, his hand slipping on my cheek, his entire palm covering it “No need to thank me. You said it yourself I’m your bulldog. I was born to protect you.”

My face fell back on his chest, while I blushed and I hugged him as tight as I could, making sure he wasn’t just a dream.

[nosugarallspice]

44 “why don’t we film it?” With Neymar plsss

of course!!

Minors DNI!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Neymar just got home after a long night out with your friends. You both had a decent amount of drinks, enough to make you both become touchy with one another.

Before you could even begin to take your makeup off, or even take your dress off, Ney appears behind you, his hands on your hips, face shoved in the crook of your neck, planting open mouthed kisses along it. 

“You smell so good, amor.” He mumbled against your skin. 

“Mmm.” you hum, eyes closed while you lean back into him, placing your hand on his cheek. “It’s the perfume you bought me.” You smile. 

You turn around, instantly smashing your lips against his. You felt his tongue slip into your mouth. Moaning at the taste of him, the mix of tequila and mint. 

You didn’t realize you both moved closer towards the bed until the back of your knees hit the edge of it. 

Ney took matters into his own hands and gently pushes you down onto the bed. Hovering over you, planting a kiss to your lips. 

Your hands grip his shirt, pulling him all the way down. Before you could lean up and peck his lips once more, he pulls away from you. Standing up straight, you notice his phone in hand. 

He noticed the confused look on your face, as you waited for him to say something in regards to it. 

“Why don’t we film it, hm?” A smirk spreads across his lips. 

Nodding your head eagerly.

Now you won’t lie, this is something you’ve always wanted to do, but you were too shy to ever say anything to Ney about it.

“Hurry.” You whine, feeling the aching sensation in between your legs growing by the minute. 

He quickly set the phone up and made his way back to you. 

“C’mon, on your hands and knees.” He taps your thigh. 

Quickly repositioning yourself, your face pressed into the pillows, ass up in the air. Standing behind you, he pushes your dress up, yanking your panties to the side. 

As much as you need him, he needed you, so he didn’t waste another minute before sliding into your aching cunt. 

The grip on your hips tight, his fingers digging into your skin. 

His free hand sliding up your back, grabbing a fistful of your hair to bring your face up. His lips meet your ear. “Let it out baby, I want to hear you.” He whispers in your ear. 

“Ney, you make me feel so good.” You cry out. His pace was hard and fast, it was almost as if he was hungry for you.

"Look, I want the camera to see you fall apart under me." He holds your head up by your hair.

“You fuck me so good.” gripping the bedsheets beneath you as he fucks you into the mattress. 

Reaching down you begin to rub circles on your clit, this and his thrusts is enough, overwhelming you with pleasure as you feel your orgasm approaching.

[cherryxcadbury]

Hello,

Hope you are doing fine ☺️

Here are some ideas (saw your post asking for requests haha) I have might have a (big) crush on Neymar Jr so my ideas will be with him haha :

He is jealous of your friendship with Marco Verrati

You get to know each other before new year, he spend it with Bruna but he is falling for you and wants you to trust him that they are just friends

You are Kylian best friend and you are hiding him that you and Ney have been together for a few months

You are an actress/singer, and you decide to use a movie premiere to show the world you are together

You become friends with carol (Davi’s mother)

He hears you saying that Sergio Ramos is good looking,

I know you won’t to them all, but hope it helps your inspiration haha,

Love your writing by the way,

Have a nice day 😻😘

thank you for all your ideas love 🫶 request: He hears you saying that Sergio Ramos is good looking

y/n- ur name 

2nd person pov 

You and Neymar were sprawled across your bed, mindlessly scrolling through your phones, cuddled next to one another. It was a lazy Sunday in Paris.

Peaceful, yet content.

This peace was quickly interrupted by the incessant beeping of the oven. 

You sat up, preparing to get out of bed, "The Feijoada's done." 

Neymar gently pushed you down, "You stay here amor. I'll get it." 

You shot him a grateful look, laying back down. 

"Where was that email I needed?" Desperately searching for a work related email you needed tomorrow. 

You then remembered you'd dmed it to your friend on Instagram.

"Where the hell is it?" You groaned in frustration while you swiftly scrolled through your instagram.

"Y/N, amore! It's ready." Neymar called to you, heading back towards the direction of your bedroom.

Oh screw it. You'd check later tomorrow.

Neymar stood leaning against the doorway, running a hand through his messy hair. 

You thought he looked so so good. 

You decided to quickly check any updates on your Instagram timeline and raised an eyebrow in delight when you saw the PSG account had posted a picture of Sergio Ramos, who'd been your celebrity crush as a teenager.

"Sergio Ramos is so fine." You muttered, before throwing your phone on the bed and getting up to move towards Neymar.

What you didn't expect was to almost see Neymar's ears perk up in alarm at your words.

"Who?" Neymar asked you with curiosity in his eyes. 

"Sergio Ramos. His new haircut makes him look so good." You gushed.

"Well what about my new haircut?" He inquired, folding his arms and pouting.

You laughed. It was so obvious he was jealous. Why not playing along with it? 

"Your hair is forever changing. It's hard to appreciate it when you have a new look each month." You giggled.

"They all look better than Ramos's." He uttered with disgust, rolling the r with extra emphasis. 

You shot him a challenging look, "Even those fake blonde dreads a few years ago?" 

That was before you two had began dating, but you never let him live that poor style choice down. 

Neymar shot you a snarky look. Jealousy was oozing out of him.

"Ramos isn't even that good. Do you know how many times he's been red carded?" He brought up, trying to make a point. 

"28." You smirked at him.

Neymar huffed in annoyance. He was trying to make a point but it just pissed him off that you knew that fact about Ramos.

"Regardless, he's a dirty player." 

"And you're a flopper." You countered.

 "Am not!" He protested.

"Are too!" You stuck your tongue out at him.

Then there was silence for a moment, a bit awkward to say the least. 

"Do you think Ramos is more attractive than me?" Neymar wondered aloud quietly.

You felt bad. You'd hit a nerve. Even though Neymar was virtually the most sought after player in the world, he got insecure and jealous very easily. 

You gingerly moved over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, his instinctively finding their way to your waist. You rested your head on his chest. 

"I'm sorry." You mumbled.

"It's my fault amor. I get jealous too easily." He admitted.

You raised your head from his chest to meet his eyes. They were swirling with emotion, love, and passion.

"Well. Jealous or not, you'll always be the most beautiful man in my eyes." You smiled, pecking him on the lips. 

A smile found its way to Neymar's lips as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Behind Davi that is." You finished.

Neymar laughed, "That's an L I'm willing to take." 

[^^I CRINGED SO HARD WRITING THAT LINE.]

Days later, at PSG vs Lille, you were in the crowd, sitting front and center to support him. When he single handedly dribbled through the box and landed the ball at the back of the net with his signature moves, you had eyes for him and him only. 

"Wonder which celebration he'll do this time." Antonela teased from behind you. 

"Hopefully it's the Parado No Bailao one." You laughed, looking back to her. 

"I'd look straight ahead if I were you." Antonela advised.

You did as told and was shocked to see what was happening. Neymar and the rest of his teammates had run towards you to celebrate.

He'd pointed right at you, made a heart with his gloved hands, and blew you a kiss.

And very quickly, there was no other man on the field other than Neymar Jr in your eyes. 

[whorekneecentral]

hate sex with neymar “I'm gonna kiss every inch of your body and then fuck you until you cry” 

IDK IF THIS MIGHT BE GOOD THO SORRY

another banger for mr neymar jr // prompt: “I'm gonna kiss every inch of your body and then fuck you until you cry” 

You two had been mad at each other all day, it was the little things that set you off; Ney left the cupboard doors opened or you didn't know where his shoes were when he was looking for them and you two had been at each other's throats - not in a good way - all day.

Ney wasn't in the mood to go out but you needed to get out of the house so you were going to the club with your girls. You were in the bathroom getting ready, he was laying on the bed and flipping through the channels when you came out to look for your jewellery.

His eyes fixed on you as you bent over, looking through the jewellery box on the dresser. He grumbled something to himself, you glanced over your shoulder at him.

"What?" You asked, turning to face him.

"Nothing," he shook his head, looking back to the tv.

You were walking to the closet, looking for your shoes when you spoke; "if you have something to say, fucking say it. Don't grumble like a little bitch."

That set him off, the man got off the bed and walked over to you. "What did you say?"

You turned to him, looking dead at him. "If you have something to say, fucking say it."

He pulled you by your wrist, his hand moving to your throat when you're close enough. “I'm gonna kiss every inch of your body and then fuck you until you cry, is that what you wanted to hear?"

You smiled, the satisfaction across your face. "Yeah, that's it."

Ney pulled you back to the bed, pushing you slightly until you get on it.

You played dirty, he knew as much; your legs spread as you propped yourself up on your elbows, revealing the fact that you have nothing on underneath your dress.

He goes to touch you but your stop him, a foot pressed to his chest.

"Are you doing being an asshole?" You asked plainly and he nods, “god, yeah.” He says, getting up to get undressed. You follow him, pulling off the dress you had on.

You didn’t make it very far when you scooted back on the bed, Ney pulled you to the edge of the bed by your legs and he settled between your legs; one pulled over his shoulder and the other around his hip. 

Ney lets you take him little by little, pulling out almost all the way each time before finally pushing into you all the way. He's in charge and you both know it, letting him set the pace; slow and steady and it was driving you insane. 

You needed him. 

You didn’t want slow, you wanted it hard and messy, the type of fuck where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. 

“Ney, please” Your hand reaches to rest on his hand that’s on your hip. “Need more.” 

“Needy,” he calls, pulling you closer by your legs. 

Finally, you get what you want, Ney's hips hitting the back of your thighs, he leans over you and your arms are pinned about your head, both legs up on his shoulders now.

“Oh,” he coos, smiling at you. “Is my baby so fucked out, she can’t even tell me what she wants?” His thrusts are sloppy, you knew he was just as close as you were. 

Your head tosses back, back arched when he hits the spot he was looking for. 

[mrs-santoss]

Love at First Sight - Neymar Imagine - Chapter Seven

Summary: 

Y/N is scared to fall in love. She fell once, and it was a nightmare. She can't risk it again. But, this lucky boy manages to steal her heart, but unfortunately, manages to break it at the same time. What will Y/Ns decisions be?

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6

I burst into tears. I kept crying, screaming, hitting the steering wheel with my hands. Why does this have to happen to me? What have I done wrong? Why do people get so close to me and then FUCKING LEAVE?

I was in physical pain. I don't know if you've heard about Broken Heart Syndrome. It's a condition that's brought on by a physically or emotionally traumatic event, such as the loss of a loved one, divorce, car accidents, bad fights or near-drowning experiences. Broken Heart Syndrome is often a temporary condition. But some people may continue to feel unwell after the heart is healed. I remember my state during my last heartbreak. I was a fucking mess. I'm trying so hard to avoid that. I'm saying this because I just remembered I had two bottles of vodka on the backseat of my car. I had bought those bottles for a fun night with the guys. I was hoping to do that this weekend and get closer with Neymar. What a stupid idiot I was. I was fighting myself from chugging a bottle. I'm driving. I can't do this. I can just sleep here. No, I can't. Yes, I can. No, I can't. Too late. I was parked by the road, looking at a view of mountains just outside of the city. I had some melancholic music on and I had drank one bottle and a half. I was wasted. Singing at the top of my lungs, with my feet on top of the steering wheel, fucking wasted. A phone call stopped my music. I couldn't read the caller ID. I answered the call. "Whyy wou-would- yu-you to do that?!!" "What? Y/N, are you okay?" "Ky?" "Y/N, are you drunk?" "NOOOO, why wouldd yu-you stop my-my-music?" "Oh, god. Where are you? Are you alone? "Alonee? Pff, noo. I'm he-ree with *hiccup* mrs.sadness, mrs. dissssapointment, *hiccup* andd mrs. pain, say hii  to Kylian everyonee!!" "Y/N? Where the fuck are you? Why am I hearing cars driving by? ARE YOU DRIVING?" "Wha-no!! I'm having a nighttt ou- with my bestiess." A car honks outside, probably at someone else but my drunk self took it as an insult. I could hear Kylian yelling something I couldn't make out what it was. "HEYYY!! Don't fuck-fucking make me race you, YOU HEAR ME?" "NOO, NOO, NOOO. Y/N, YOU STAY RIGHT THERE" "WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?" I started crying, Kylian paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "Y/N- sweetheart, I'm not yelling. I'm just worried, okay?" "O...kay" "Can you tell me where you are? Where is Neymar? Why aren't you with him?" "Whyy *hiccup* wou-would you mention him?" i was talking in a low voice now, probably because I had run out of energy. "Y/N, I'm going to hang up for one second, okay? I will call you right back? Are you parked?" "Yes" "Good, stay right there. Do you promise you won't move the car?" "I promise" "Good! I will call you in a second, I will just make another quick phone call,okay?"

"Okay, Ky. Bye!" I hung up on him. I stood there in silence. I couldn't stop myself from acting like this. The study shows alcohol dulls the brain signal that warns people they are making a mistake, and, I was completely, entirely drunk. I stayed in silence for another minute, I had completely forgotten about the promise I had given Kylian about staying parked. I had this dumb idea about touching a star that was on top of the mountain, so I wanted to "reach" it. I was driving fast. It felt like flying. It felt good. While I was driving I had the urge to throw up. I stopped my car at a rest area on the highway, grabbed a bag from the backseat and threq up on it. I threw up everything. My head was spinning. I put the bag at the bottom of the passenger seat, rested my head on the car seat and closed my eyes. I could hear my phone ringing but I didn't have the energy to pick it up. Darkness took over me. I felt tired. I THANKFULLY, clicked on the button to close all doors, and fell asleep. _____________________________ Sun was shinning directly into my face. I was extremely hot, I was sweating. My ears were ringing and my head was killing me. I opened my eyes and I realized I'm in the middle of fucking nowhere. I couldn't remember anything form last night except for drinking and driving. I know I had a conversation with Kylian, but I couldn't remember what It was. I turn on the AC and pick up my phone. My phone had went crazy. I had 23 missed calls from Kylian, 35 from Neymar and 10 phone calls from Sarah. I couldn't even go through the messages. There were a lot of them, especially from the guys. Some of Kylian's text said "Y/N pick up your phone", "Are you still parked?", " Y/N why arent you answering?" " I'm fucking going crazy Y/N pick up your phone NOW". I was surprised to see Neymar's text. How did he know about this? Did Kylian talk to him? Some of Ney's text said " Y/N, can you pick up please" , " Y/N don't do this" "Y/N can you at least speak to Kylian" "CAN YOU JUST TEXT ME THAT YOU'RE OKAY PLEASE" "Y/N I'm going crazy, pleasee". Sarah's text were also the same. Oh, my god. What have I done? Why am I like this? How did I manage to do this? I decided to call Kylian. I don't even know how he's going to react. He picked up on the first ring.

"Y/N WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?" "Ky?" "ARE YOU OKAY?" "Yes, I'm okay, I passed out right after our phone call. I didn't hear anything after that." "Where are you? Why were you drunk? Why were you FUCKING driving?" "Ky, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for worrying you. I don't know why, when, how. I'm a mess. I'm a fucking mess!" I couldn't hold back my tears, I started crying. "Y/N, calm down, please. Send me your location. I'll come to you." "No, you can't, Ky. I'm five or six hours away from home by now. I'm at a rest stop on the middle of fucking nowhere." "What? Whyy are you five hours away? Why didn't you come to me after Neymar?" "How...How do you know about that?" "I spoke to him last night. I ended the call with you to ask him if he knows where you are and you didn't answer my phone after that. We were so fucking worried." "I'm sorry" I was extremely sorry and embarrassed. I didn't even know what to say to him, he was being an amazing friend to me and I'm over here taking advantage of that. "No, it's okay, Y/N. Just please, don't ever do this again. Also, I know you're not talking to him anymore, but you need to call Neymar and let him know you're okay. The guy went crazy last night, he was about to drive the whole country to find you." "Can you tell him that...let him know I'm okay? I can't talk to him after this, I don't know what to say. I feel weak and ashamed of what I've done." "Trust me, he doesn't think that about you. Just let him know you're okay, that's it." "Okay, Ky. Thank you so much I'm so sorry." "Y/N, I'm just fucking glad you're okay, that's all that matters, all right? Are you going to drive home?" "Yes, probably. I can't think of any other option." "Please, just rest before you start driving. Make sure you're okay." "Yes, I'm feeling better now. I'll stop at the next restaurant or whatever, to get something to eat and rest" "Okay. Text me about everything, let me know your location from time to time." Okay, Ky. Thank you for being there for me." "Always, Y/N."

I hang up the phone with Kylian and just stay in silence. I'm contemplating whether I should call Neymar or not. I mean, the guy deserves to know I'm okay, but on the other hand, he broke up with me, he doesn't have to know anything about me anymore. I decide to listen to the side of me that still cares about him and call him. I dial his phone number by memory, and wait. He answers the phone quickly. "Y/N, ARE YOU OKAY? WHERE ARE YOU? AMOR? ARE YOU HURT?" "Hey, Neymar. I'm okay." "Oh, my god. Oh, thank god. Please don't do this to me ever again, please, please, please. Where are you?" "Neymar, I'm okay, I'm fine. I'm headed home right now, I just wanted to let you know I'm okay since Kylian told me you were worried about me." "You spoke to Kylian? Before me?" "Neymar.. You're both the same to me, now. We don't have that kind of relationship anymore."

“Y/N? Why did you do that? Why were you driving drunk?” “Neymar, I don’t want to talk about this, please. I’m okay, all right?” He didn’t respond anything. I guess, he was waiting for me to say something more. What else am I going to say to him, my ex boyfriend who I’m still enough in love with to fucking kill myself driving while drunk because of him? I’m tired to even think about an answer right now. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, okay? Take care!” “You….you too, Y/N. Bye!” _______________________________

I throw myself on the bed. I was extremely tired from the long drive and the hangover. I text Kylian letting him know I'm home. I hoped on the shower to relax myself. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't, all my tears were dry. I was functioning like a robot. I'm in the first stage of heartbreak which is being in denial. I don't want to accept this. It's really hard to go from good morning and good night texts to a dry phone, or going from a warm body to cuddle with at night to a cold pillow. I slept the rest of the day until the next day. I woke up to get ready for work. This will be the first time I will be seeing Neymar since our break up. I miss his face. I miss him. I miss our stare. I fucking miss our stare. __________________________________ I park my car and head inside and go straight to my office. I collect all my things before heading into the field. As soon as I step outside, I feel eyes on me. "Hi, Y/N!"

[messifangirl]

Have you read 'How to tame a small Mafia man's? It's a neymessi fic and it is so hilarious to read. I've re-read it a few times over the years and the humour hits hard every single time. Even though it's a bottom!ney fic, I think you might still enjoy it a lot

Yes! Fantastic au! Juliet was writing that story about the same time I started writing OITNB and we were very good fic friends :) I like to break Leo fic up into different eras and she was one of the pillars of the 2015 fandom. She was a huge Neymessi fan and I can't recommend her fics enough. I think she moved into Kpop fic after her football era and looks like to have continued writing for that fandom. Anyone who hasn't read her works should check them out, in particular:

How to tame a small mafia man by rmonolisa

Leo as a mafia man, obviously lol, Ney as a clueless idiot. The two of them are ridiculous together with Leo being emotionally constipated while always saving the day and Ney being determined to get himself killed in a variety of ways. Incredibly funny, just the right amount of angst, and the Barca/Argentine/Brazil ensemble are all written to perfection.

Rating: M, pairing: Leo/Ney, words: 66k, status: complete (with two short sequels)

Give me half of forever by rmonolisa

There are a smattering of soulmate/soulmark fic in football fandom and this is one of the best ones. Neymar's mark says Lionel Messi, and he realizes he has to hide that when he finds out Leo doesn't have a mark saying Neymar. Cue the emotional turmoil.

Rating: M, pairing: Leo/Ney, words 11k, status: complete

Il suffirait de presque rien by rmonolisa

This is an age-flipped AU with Neymar living next door to teenager Leo. Ney struggles with his attraction to Leo while at the same time Leo suffers through the same things all teenage boys do. This is a terribly worded rec for this fic so just trust me that it's a good read.

Rating: E, pairing: Leo/Ney, words: 30k, status: complete

L'imposture by rmonolisa

This is her most popular Neymessi fic. Leo sends an 'i like you' text to Neymar by mistake and then when Ney responds the same, decides he just has to go along with it. Angsty as fuck. Leo's an idiot. Ney's adorable.

Rating: M, pairing: Leo/Ney, words: 58k, status: complete

[kawaikylian]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

JUDE BELLINGHAM

After a break up, you have a mission

To be happier.

Life had been horrible, I couldn’t handle the obscene comments from the press concerning my recent break up with Neymar, in reality our breakup was fast and easy.

We both agreed we had no more feelings and that we would continue on being friends, but for some reason JC one of the most famous journalists had written a full blown essay exposing every detail about our relationship, except it was all a lie.

Layered with drama and unnecessary words like “cheating” and “abortion” it was all to much, I texted Neymar and he was pretty worried about all the drama, twitter ran wild.

𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘦𝘺𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘩𝘰<3:nah bc did luz cheat or did Neymar cheat…..

𝘐𝘵𝘴𝘺𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘫𝘢𝘻:def Neymar, he’s a play boy.

𝘕𝘦𝘺𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘫𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘴: is this your address Jaz? **** **** **

Calissa was stubborn and convinced me to go to a “small party” turns out it was a full blown mansion with around 300+ people singing to bad bunny, “I have to admit I don’t blame you, this is great break from you know…everything”

Calissa hugs me “im gonna go grab some drinks mkay…” she begins to walk away and I hear a small “GET SOME DICK!” I gasp and chuckle.

My eyes blur out, I can hear music in the distance fading and I feel tired it had only been around 10 minutes inside the mansion and I felt like shit, I think to myself a drink will fix this I remind myself that Calissa is at the bar stand, I follow leads and see a blue dress Calissa.

It takes a few steps before I end up loosing my footing “shit!” I fall hitting my elbow on a strange tall man, I hear a splash, looking up I see an orange liquid split on the man’s black shirt, I notice how firm it looks on his abs, “IM SO SORRY!” I start to panic this man looks fancy and rich ,so privileged.

I’m on the floor picking up broken glass parts, I accidentally cut myself which makes me whimper “oh shit are you okay” I hear him mumble but the party music is so too loud, I push my way into the dancing crowd, I’m being practically smushed in between the sweating body’s.

I head into one of the bathrooms noticing how dirty people had left it, I grab a piece of toilet paper wrapping it around my bleeding wound, I groan pressing it, I press until I feel no more blood dripping and until it’s dry.

As I hold the paper against my skin I think about the tall man and how I didn’t get a deep close look on his hair and eyes, god I think it would’ve been a great privilege, I realize I thought to much when I hear loud knocking on the door.

Minutes later

I decided to dance, even after cutting myself I did not care as I danced I still felt blood drip, but I also felt a pair of hands land on my waist it was freedom Freedom from my last relationship, I even hoped people took pictures of this moment to know me and Neymar had been done.

I grab his arms pressing them harder onto my waist moving one to my hips to feel how hard I swayed them, I’m Hispanic and Latina we are known to be amazing dancers, i turn around to see the same man.

Both of our eyes gleam noticing one another but we don’t move instead we go a lot more passionately this time, his arms tight around my body and I turn to press a small kiss on his lips, he wants more but I don’t agree and he allows that.

So instead his lips go onto my neck pressing small kisses, I hear a camera flash and I smirk, I needed the press to be distracted maybe another kiss wouldn’t be so bad, I grab his chin slowly and I press my lips against his, he’s surprised especially from my last rejection.

This time our mouths move faster, we spit in each others mouth and he presses his tongue inside, I hear another camera flutter and flash, I smirk into the kiss pulling away,

I grin at him, I notice he excepts more but instead I walk away swaying my hips as if nothing happened.

Manager Ashley and O calling….

[neyxmessi]

as a long time barca and messi fan im hoping to GOD that the rumors of him returning to barca are fake/fall through. i hate that he's at psg and idk what it is but i this horrible sense of foreboding. what we have now is so great. WE'RE 15 POINTS ON TOP OF THE LEAGUE!!!! imagine he comes back to us and ruins the team dynamic like he did with psg (bc no offense to him but he kinda did as much as i loved seeing him and neymar back together working again). like how long would he return for? 1 year? and im thinking of the players that we have to sell to return him. and its gonna be all about messi again. it's gonna basically be a copy paste of argenita nt. buy players for messi only. isn't the shadow of messi what drove off so many players from our team in the first place? they wont have the national devotion the nt has for him. oh and also WE HAVE NO MONEY. i dont even want to think of the logistic nightmare that is making him and lewy work together. and we'd ruin all the hard work we just did all for what? nostalgia? he's 35 years old. i say we just work with the amazing young talent we have and dominate la liga w them. and maybe next year get a ucl?

(sorry for the rant but idk who else to talk to about this and my friends think im crazy and a fake fan for criticising this move)

No anon I get what you’re saying. That’s what I’m scared of also. Barca is doing well at the moment, and it seems like they have a really good groove going. As much as I want Leo to go back to Barca, I think it’s also true that SO MANY THINGS would have to change for it to happen. Leo is a GREAT player tho and having the right team to build around him can work WONDERS.

Tbh I don’t want to fault Leo for PSG simply because I don’t necessarily think it’s his fault. I think he was really used to playing a certain way because he was with Barca for 20+ years, and PSG’s new coach (can’t remember his name my fault) ofc was a downgrade just because and also since he didn’t know how to use Leo well.

And it’s definitively hard bc of Barca’s financial situation (although I really think Leo wouldn’t mind take a pay cut).

So it’s definitely hard for me to think about also. Leo has AMAZING vision and really could help a lot, but there’s always the chance that things go south. And as much as I would love to see how Leo and Lewy interact just bc I feel like they’d hit off lol, your point is really valid. They’re not youngsters anymore (as much as I wish they were). But I’m sure they could find a way to position Leo where he creates chances and has people around him to do the pressing/running etc.

I loveeeeee Leo absolutely and I just want the best for him. Unfortunately, I don’t know exactly what that looks like, and I wish I did.

[lewisdiary]

Amber Lounge

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

WARNING: 18+, NSFW, explicit, alcohol, drugs, unprotected sex.

Word count: 3,600+

What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a club all by herself?

Another party, this time in Monaco. Your glass, filled with what seemed like a very expensive gin, vibrated to the the loud music playing in the club.

Let loose. You thought to yourself slightly lowering your body-con black dress and searching for familiar faces.

You looked around the VIP party you had been invited to. Ever since your dad's business put him on the "Forbes Richest" list your reputation had skyrocketed along with it. You were an A-lister yourself at this point, everyone longed for your appearance at their events, and as if your life depended on it, you attended. Your social media and events presence had helped you befriend the hottest models and richest rappers in the game and you quite enjoyed the lavish lifestyle.

You and your dad had flown down for the Monaco GP weekend, courtesy of the team principal of the most popular F1 team, Toto Wolff. Surprisingly, it was your first Grand Prix, and probably your last. The hospitality was, as usual, amazing but you found watching cars go around in circles slightly boring.

You took a rather large sip of your gin and started to tune into the beat, your body processing the large quantities of alcohol you had decided to ingest.

Because you hadn't been invited to the Grand Prix by a driver in particular and had failed to engage with any during the "boring" weekend, you found yourself attending the party and having to fit in all by yourself. Making your way through the club you encountered a few drivers, whom you recognised and recognised you, and their respective guests. You knew you weren't an easy face to forget, so it didn't take long before a few people started commenting about your presence.

Making yourself comfortable around the younger squad of drivers, your body swayed to the loud music that hit your ears. Your eyes shut as you engaged with the environment, allowing the melodies and strong base to sway you in.

"You're a Mercedes guest, aren't you?" A familiar voice rang through. Russell. Your eyes opened to look at the briton who stood very close to your ear, making sure his words were getting to you just fine. You nodded quickly, downing your drink before replying to him "Well, my dad is. I just tagged along"

His lips turned into a small smile as he took a good glance at you, leaning closer again he chatted a bit more; "and what did you think of it?"

"Not my vibe" You shrugged jokingly. "This though, is!" You put your empty glass down in a nearby table and pulled George into what seemed like a circle of people dancing, as In Da Club by 50 Cent started playing.

You both started dancing to the song, George's friends joined, and in no time you set yourself in the party ambient, drenching yourself in alcohol as more bottles were brought in at the request of Russell, Latifi, and a few other younger drivers you hadn't gotten your way around.

0 To 100 / The Catch up - by Drake came through the speaker.

This DJ knew his set you thought, before excusing yourself from the crowd that had embraced you. Feeling the need for a switch of environment you made your way to the bar. On your way, you drunkly greeted a few familiar faces, Bella Hadid and what looked like some actors who had come down for the Grand Prix.

Sitting on an empty stool at one of the bars in the Amber Lounge you asked the bartender for a glass of your favourite, gin. Your head nodded to the beat, it pounded hard. You knew you were more than tipsy at that point, but there was no sign of slowing down.

"Ayo! Bring us a bottle of your most expensive Prosecco!" You heard a voice yell through a line of people standing at the bar. A familiar voice.

His voice sang along to the lyrics, you were tempted to turn around to check who was yelling right behind your ear but your motion to turn was interrupted by the glass of gin you had requested being brought to you.

As you fiddled with the purse that hung around your shoulder, looking for your card, the familiar voice spoke again: "I've got that for you. On my tab, Mikey!" This time much closer to you.

You turned to your left, wanting to finally put a face to the voice your alcohol-filled brain didn't seem to recognise. Looking at the 5'9 figure standing next to you, it hit you that: you had failed to engage with any driver during the Grand Prix except for one.

It was more than obvious that you weren't going to be at the Mercedes garage and not meet their prominent stars. Lewis Hamilton and Valtteri Bottas. It was Qualifying day and after an amazing performance from both drivers, Toto, at the request of your dad had introduced you to his prodigies. You had gotten the chance to meet the drivers and congratulate them both for their front-row quali positions.

Bottas was the quiet one, after meeting you and your dad he excused himself to his driver room. Lewis was more of a personality, he knew your dad from reading about him and their conversation seemed to flow from F1 to business to possible future lunch meetings. He glanced at you from time to time, the conversation didn't interest you but he somewhat did.

You knew Lewis was quite the party boy and a ladies man, it suited his champion attitude, so seeing him at the club did not surprise you at all. He had won the Grand Prix you remembered, your mind doing a little backflip to being at the back of the garage and giving him a quick hug after your dad had burst into "here's the man of the evening" compliments.

Your altered system forced you to bite your lip at the thought of Lewis Hamilton standing in front of you.

"Hey, it's you!" His eyes widened at the realisation, his breath smelled like nothing but expensive alcohol. He was drunk as a skunk, and to your liking, he looked extremely hot.

You widened your eyes jokingly, following his cue. "It is I!" you laughed slightly, trying to mock his accent.

"I met you on Saturday, no? Your dad is Toto's friend. What's your name again?" He grabbed the Prosecco bottle that had been handed to him and moved an inch closer to you.

"Yep, that's my dad! Y/N!" you yelled through the gap left between the two of you.

"And what's a beautiful girl like you doing in the club all by herself?" He asked before singing to a few lyrics of the song that currently burst through the speakers that were placed at the bar.

"Enjoying herself." You grabbed your glass and, nodding at him as a thank you for the drink, you stepped down the stool and made your way to the dance-floor. Nervously nibbling on your bottom lip at your choice of words you wondered if a little mystery was enough to keep Lewis interested.

Your hips moved at the sound of Ginza by J Balvin and almost immediately, you felt a body swaying along with yours. Him.

Lewis took a sip of the Prosecco bottle he was meant to take back to his group of friends as his own hips fell in somewhat of a sync with yours, his free hand grabbing your left thigh pulling you closer to his body. His motion felt like a cue for you to bend slightly and begin to grind on the "man of the evening", he deserved a little fun after the hard-work he put out on the track.

Eyes started turning to you two, as your bodies got carried away by the effects of the alcohol you had been consuming. You shrugged out the thought of being watched. If Lewis was comfortable, you were too.

"Y yo hoy estoy aquí imaginando. Sexy baila y me deja con las ganas" Lewis sang along to J Balvin but he sang it so close to your ear, he knew it was meant just for you to listen. His raspy voice sent chills down your spine, you didn't know what the words meant but he made them sound sexy and it empowered you. You chewed on your bottom lip as the DJ switched songs and moving away from him you sipped on your gin, cheering at the former drivers that had put you in the mood to party, who shot you back just as happy glances.

"Come to my table! Let's have some fun!" Lewis' drunk voice echoed through the pounds of your head. He was quick to grab your arm and pull you through the crowd to a more secluded area.

"Y/N everyone!!" He yelled once you approached a group of what looked like more mature and older people. Everyone turned their heads at the two of you and cheered loudly at Lewis' introduction of you, almost as if they were celebrating you tonight.

Daniel Ricciardo. Winnie Harlow. Neymar Jr were some of the faces you were able to recognise at first glance, everyone seemed as slapped as you, some of the girls were high as kites twerking on anything they could put their asses to. Now this was more your vibe.

As the night went on; more drinks came, you danced and enjoyed yourself. Sexual tension between you and Lewis had become hard to ignore and the amount of alcohol in your body had you craving him... all over you.

It's now or never you thought to yourself.

Downing your, God knows what number, cup you looked at Lewis who found himself having fun with his mates, his smile widely spread across is face, revealing his perfectly sharpened canine teeth.

If anything, we blame it on the alcohol.

You mentally thanked the Dj as Wild Thoughts by DJ Khaled started playing. Lewis' eyes darkened as he noticed you approaching him. Your dress hugged your body perfectly, making your figure hard to look away from. In a blink of an eye you had found your groins against one another's grinding on each other to the beat.

As the song went on, Lewis spun you around, having you against him drove him crazy. His hips thrusted your back, his fingers digging the skin on your thigh. He licked his lips at the thought of you, and almost as if he had been waiting for this moment the whole night, his lips met your bare shoulder.

Without ungluing his figure to yours, his tongue slowly traced your neck, sending chills down your spine. "Have I told you how beautiful you look?" He mumbled in between kisses on your bare skin. He didn't have to win you over with compliments, he already had you.

You could feel death glares from Lewis' female guests because of the moment you and the world champion were sharing. You used the uncomfortable stares as your cue to leave, turning to Lewis for the first time in what seemed like a long night, you stared into his - slightly droopy from the alcohol - brown eyes. Your arms automatically swung to his neck, he had yet another bottle in his hand but did not hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist.

"I don't think your friends are enjoying this little show we're putting on" You mumbled, signalling to the ladies who stood in the corner. Your eyes went from staring into his to looking at his lips, your breathing had become intense as you felt Lewis's body awfully close to yours, his member slowly caressing your upper thigh. He licked his lips, noticing how badly you stared. At that point of the night neither of you could contain how much you craved one another.

"They don't have to watch" Lewis whispered, shooting a quick glance at the models who seemed rather upset with his lack of attention on them; back to you, before grabbing your arm and pulling you through a back door that was close to the VIP area you were in, he mumbled: "I know a place".

You found yourself stumbling through the front entrance of a rather fancy building. Lewis lived conveniently close to the Amber Lounge, and in no time, his body guards had escorted the two of you to the penthouse.

Thanking his driver, you made your way into the elevator, and as soon as the doors shut close, Lewis had you pinned against the back wall. His eyes darkened again, his breathing hard over your lips.

Even drunk as a skunk, he looked and smelled amazing.

You watched him bite his lip as he leaned closer, making you crave his lips on yours even more.

It felt like heaven. When Lewis finally crashed his lips on to yours, his body weight causing you to lean further against the wall... it felt like heaven.

You groaned as the kiss didn't last as much as you wished to, the ding from the elevator interrupting it.

You were given no time to take in the surroundings of Lewis' perky home. He placed his arms on your hips and you automatically straddled him, the heat was back like it had never left, your lips were on his yet again. He kissed you so passionately you thought he was compensating from not doing it earlier. He knew his way through his home, and as your tongues met, he quickly found his way through his living room to his astounding suite.

Lewis dropped you on his bed, his eyes filled with lust and hunger. Behind him, the view of Monaco’s nightlife and beach shone through his large windows, the moonlight setting the perfect ambiance for what seemed like an exciting night for the both of you.

Your thoughts were distracted by Lewis’s touch. He had quickly removed his shirt and tossed it aside, his fingers now rested on top of your wet panties, his thumb caressing your clit. His body hoovered over yours, you closed your eyes and tilted your head back, allowing your body to feel Lewis’ movements on your area.

“Look at me” He demanded, his voice as deep as you’d ever hear it. “You’re so wet” He mumbled once your eyes obediently met his. Starving for him inside of you, you pulled your dress up your waist not once breaking eye contact, which caused Lewis to smirk. He attacked your neck, sucking and nibbling on your bare skin, his fingers slid your panties to the side, and with a small bite to your neck he inserted two fingers into you. You gasped at his sudden movement and your walls clenched in pleasure.

“Fuck!” Lewis muttered as he felt your juices coating his fingers. As instinct your knees bent, allowing Lewis to get a better grip of your inside walls. He picked up the pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. As your moans started getting louder, you feared Lewis had neighbours so you instantly bit your lip trying to contain your pleasure-filled screams.

“L-Lewis” you stumbled on your words, he knew just how deep to thrust and how much to curl his fingers. You longed for him inside you, your fingernails digging his tattooed back and your head titled back.

“Yes, baby?” He was enjoying watching you squirm in pleasure, his member hardening at the sound of your voice in his room.

"Don't make me wait" you pleaded, not being able to contain your hormones any longer. You wanted him inside you: “I want you. I want you to cum with me”

As if your wish was his command, Lewis’ drunk figure moved his hand away, he stood in front of the bed, and you took the moment to remove your dress, revealing your perfectly shaped and tanned body. Lewis, on his turn dropped his jeans. Both of you stood in awe of one another for awhile, hunger rising. He observed your breasts, and you engulfed the length of his now erect shaft.

You slowly removed your panties and dangled it in front of him, teasing the man that was going to eat you alive, the room smelled like expensive cologne and Prosecco. Lewis jaw hardened, his tattoos made his muscles more prominent... You just wanted to dig your fingernails on his biceps at that stance. He grabbed the panties off your hand and threw them to the side along with your dress and swiftly made his way on top of you. Cupping your breast with one hand, his thumb played with your nipple whilst the other filled his mouth. You lowered your hand and began to stroke Lewis’ cock; as soft and deep moans leaving his throat, your spine shivered.

“I want you so bad” You whispered, placing Lewis right at your entrance, the tip of him rubbing against your wet and now throbbing clit.

“How bad, baby?” He asked, pecking your lips. With his voice in a demanding whisper, you were quick to realise how much of a tease Lewis was, he enjoyed making his victims beg for him. He knew how good he was.

“So… so bad” You moaned into his lips. Just as much as Lewis, you knew what you wanted and you too knew how good you were. Not wanting to waste another second you took charge, placing his shaft at your entrance you helped him penetrate you. Lewis broke the kiss he had engaged in with you, a loud moan leaving his mouth once he felt how tight you were.

It took you a second to adjust to Lewis’ length as he made his way in and out of you, although intoxicated, he noticed your slight discomfort: “Are you alright?” he questioned, his furry brows tightening.

“Shh… don’t stop” You reassured him. With your hand around his neck you brought his head down to yours, you had grown to love his soft lips around the flesh of your neck. At your call, Lewis lowered his weight on to you and steadily picked up the pace. Every thrust brought you closer to an orgasm, his cock rubbing on your perfect spot.

You clenched your walls, digging your nails through his tattooed back. “Fuuuck!” You heard Lewis scream in absolute pleasure at the tightness around him. Lewis’ thrusts became deeper and faster, his forehead had grown sweaty, the room steamy. As he picked up his pace, all you could hear was small grunts from his perfectly sound voice and the clapping of his thighs against yours.

“I’m gonna cum” He moaned through shortened breaths. His warning brought you to your dominance senses. The thought of having Sir Lewis Hamilton begging you to cum extolled your ego. Without thinking twice you shifted your weight to the side, motioning what was well understood by Lewis. It was your turn to be on top.

Lewis, at the realisation that he was sleeping with a woman who knew what she wanted, eagerly obeyed and placed himself closer to the headboard of his king sized bed, not minding that you had interrupted his almost-orgasm.

Feeling good about impressing the seven-time world champion you slowly crawled up to the man that looked at you so hungrily, lust in his eyes only becoming more and more visible. His jaw clenched again as you straddled his waist, his now, thanks to you, cream-full cock entering your threshold again. Another loud moan, this time from the both of you. You bent over slightly, placing your hands on Lewis’ shoulders for support as you started bouncing on him.

“Just like that baby” He sang to you, one hand was tightly wrapped around your neck, and the other slapped your ass as hard as he could bring himself to. It drove you crazy, it made you want more of him in you.

Your breathing had gotten harder and your forehead had met his. “I want you to cum for me” You demanded. Lewis knew he was close to his finish line, but wanted you to finish with him. As you seemed to enjoy, he kept his veiny and robust hand around your neck, giving it light squeezes every time he felt you really deep.

His free hand moved to your clit and you shot your head back in utter pleasure.

“Right there… Keep it right there” You begged, knowing exactly what was going to happen in the next thirty seconds. Lewis, in satisfaction, rubbed on your throbbing bud whilst his own hardened at every movement of yours. His teeth met his bottom lip and his eyes fell shut. You knew he was ready to release, but you weren’t going to let him off easy.

“Look at me” You called. Your ego growing with every sign of obedience from Lewis. His eyes watered a little, you knew you had him, and every thrust brought you both closer to your orgasm.

“Baby…” he whispered, his hand still in circular motions around your clit, his grip becoming weaker “Please” he begged, at no point breaking the eye contact you called for. Pleased with his submission, you mumbled: "Don't stop", and he understood the assignment. You both picked up the pace, his finger on your wet clit in circular motions and you on top of his cock, bouncing up and down.

Before you could say knife you felt your legs shaking, your whole body trembled as you released all your juices on Lewis' hand and cock, a loud moan leaving your throat, your voice echoing in the penthouse.

Sorry neighbours.

And with no time to digest the wonders that Lewis had done to your body, he quickly pushed you off him and you obeyed, his pulsating cock releasing right then and there, on his six-pack filled torso.

You were both breathing heavily, laying on your backs. The comfort of Lewis' bed took you in, your head pounding again from the intoxication, the large amount of alcohol still in your system. He chuckled slightly at the turn of events of that Monaco GP Sunday, his gaze never leaving his ceiling.

Eager and starving for more of you, Lewis found in his deep breaths strength to ask: "When do you leave?"

[footballffbarbiex]

Please can I request an imagine where Neymar is too shy to ask her out but builds up the courage? And he's really shy but it's cute?

It’s my first time writing Ney so I’m actually quite nervous about this one. Please be kind haha. Request here. Masterlist here. _________________________

So Into You.

I’m hungover and clutching a large strong coffee inthe local coffee shop near my apartment. Last night was the staff night out andif I was perfectly honest with myself, I’m not hungover. I’m still drunk. Ihaven’t been to bed and I’d be topping up if I was to have another drink. Iprobably look like shit.

In front of me is my coursework that I can’t bringmyself to do, a spare notebook, a pencil case, sticky notes and my book thatI’ve momentarily put down. Rain splashes down, hitting the windowpanes withsuch force it sounds as though ice is mixed in with it. I’m a sucker for arainstorm, even more for thunderstorms and couldn’t pass up an opportunity towatch the busyness of the street calm due to the weather. In the distance, Ican make out the Eifel Tower standing proudly.

Despite hanging out of my arse, life was good.

Better than good in fact. I’d received a promotion nottoo long ago, a promotion that had also come with a hefty bonus and aflattering salary increase. I’d put on my sensible head, putting a lot into mybills account to ensure I wouldn’t be left short but then went on a spendingspree. I was finally able to update my wardrobe. Something that hadn’t happenedin years. I’d worn the same clothes that I’d purchased half a decade ago butwas too poor (sensible) to splash out on something else. I was also foolishenough to shout “the next round is on me” almost all night and I’m sure my bankbalance is feeling it as much as I am this morning.

A blur catches my eye as someone hurries towards the caféto escape the downpour. The bell rings above the door as it’s pushed open and theobligatory “brrr” noise is made as the warmth from the shop hits their coldskin. I look up, a smile on my lips as I realise who it is.“What’s got you in such a hurry?” I laugh and take another drink of my coffee. Hiseyes narrow before widening at the sight of me. “It’s raining.” He answers slowly, sucking his lips in and licking them. “And? Never been wet before?” He smiles, tugs off his beanie hat and runs hishand through his unruly short, dark curls. “Are you always this when you’re feeling sorry for yourself?” Neymar asks. “Like what?” I raise my eyebrow. “Sarcastic and mean to name two things.” He unravels his scarf and places it onthe table in front of me, narrowly missing my coursework but sending rainsplatters on it regardless.

“Anyway, how do you know I’m feeling sorry for myself?” Ienquire as he sits down on the sofa next to me.“You’re pulling this face,” He pulls one that resembles how I feel. “And youdidn’t come home until early morning only to go out again ten minutes later.You banged every door in the flat.” He sits himself down on the sofa next to meand peers around the small coffee shop. Noting who was here and how busy itwas. “And you stomped about. It was hard not to wake up at that.”“Do you often keep tabs on me?” At my words, his eyes widen and a blush spreadsacross his face. “What? No! No I don’t.” He stammers and licks his lips nervously. “You’re cute.” I comment. “Since I’m in such a good mood, want a drink?” I ask,lifting the mug to my lips and draining the contents which has now cooledconsiderably. “I do, but please. Allow me,” I nod and watch as Neymar approaches the counter,the way the barrister’s eyes widen with acknowledgement. Neymar continues asthough he hasn’t seen the way the teenage girls eyes have lit up, clearly hispresence in here has made her day, and he orders. He gestures to the coffeeboard and also to the glass case of cakes, brownies and cookies.

Neymar moved into my apartment block several months agoand knocked on my door to apologise about the noise he’d made moving hisfurniture around, the music played and the drunken antics of him and hisfriends. I had a similar reaction to the poor girl behind the counter andcursed myself for answering in my baggy shirt, shorts, messy hair and no makeup. He appreciated the normality that I gave him and the fact that once theshock had worn off we were able to be really good neighbours. Neymar seeing me drunk and hungover, rushing out of my apartment, leaving mykeys in the door was normal. I’d have to go to his later on to reclaim my keysand get into my home. We’d do the neighbourly thing and borrow milk, sugar,bread and occasionally wine and vodka.

“You know,” I say whilst stabbing the cake with my fork.Neymar came back empty handed, only for the drinks and a separate tray filledwith cakes, warm butter croissants and pastries to be brought over once ready.We’d made small talk over the pastries before he pushed the slice of caramel caketowards me. His eyes were anywhere but on me, his hands finding something tooccupy themselves with and his attention seemed elsewhere. “It’s probably thealcohol in my system that���s allowing me to say this, but I used to have a crushon you.” I finally admit this, then cram the cake in my mouth to stop myselfsaying anything more. “Used to?” Ney looks up from pouring sugar in his coffee.“Well, you know…” I trail off embarrassed. “No, I don’t know.” He stirs his drink, his eyes on me now unable to look away.Today, the hint of green there is more prominent. “What did I do?”

I frown at his words and cock my head to the side. “Youthink you’ve done something?”“Why else would you not have a crush anymore?”“This bothers you.” I note and lift my mug to my lips. “What?” he asks suddenly, his cheeks gently blush. “Why would it bother you if I was crushing on you or not?” I cut another pieceof my cake and pop it into my mouth. He laughs nervously and struggles to findhis words. “Ney?”“I’ve been crushing on you too.” He blurts out. I roll my eyes. “No you haven’t, but it’s sweet of you to make me feel better for myconfession.” “You think I’m joking?” He sits back and smiles to himself.

“Of course you are,” I chuckle. “Why would you have a crush on me?” I dismiss myown comment with a wave of my hand and shake my head. “You’re right.” He shrugs his shoulders, “how could I find the clumsy neighbourattractive?” He looks at me and I feel my stomach drop. Of course I was stillcrushing on him. How could I not? The fact that he found my clumsiness a badthing rather than endearing made my stomach clench. “It’s not like she’s tinyand I just want to cuddle her every time I see her and protect her.” His wordspull me back to the sentence, “I definitely don’t want to take her out on adate and kiss her at the end of the night. And I certainly don’t spend my timewondering how I can ask her out whenever I see her but I don’t have the guts todo it.”

“You want to ask me on a date?” I repeat his wordsshocked. There was a big difference between finding someone attractive andwanting some one-on-one time with them. This is the most he’s ever said to me. “Butwhy? You never properly talk to me. Always small talk,” I ask him confused. “It’s not easy to.” He confesses and runs a hand through his hair. “I want to.I want to talk to you. I wanted to impress you. Say funny things. But I gettongue tied with you. Plus you’re sarcastic and I was worried you’d laugh atme. Would you say yes if I was to ask you?” he knots his hands and bites theinside of his bottom lip. He was genuinely nervous and that causes butterfliesin my stomach. The Neymar was nervousbecause of me. “Buy me another coffee and I’ll think about it.” I grin at him. Neymar laughsand lifts his butt from the sofa, his hand reaches into his back pocket and hepulls something from it. “Say yes or I’ll not let you go home,” he dangles my keys from his fingers. Shit. I hadn’t even realised I’d left mykeys again.  “I guess I’ll have to then won’t I?” I feign boredom and a yawn as he laughsagain. “Who says you’re getting a kiss at the end of the night though?”“I may be shy, but I have my ways.” Neymar grins at me and for the first timesince I met him, he physically relaxes.

[peaky-shelby]

OKAY SO I’VE BEEN MIA BC I JUST FINISHED GRAD SCHOOL AND I DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO READ THE LAST SEVERAL CHAPTERS. I’M BACK AND HOLY SHIIIIIIIIT BRO. 

Okay I’m only going to go into ch 14 for all our sakes lmao. Having Neymar come with Ky to pick Taylor up from the airport is everything that healed my little heart. I know I’ve said it before, but her relationship with Ney is just the most wholesome and I love it. “Man, just kiss already. You can cut the tension with a knife.” She laughed, embarrassed at herself and leaned on Kylian’s shoulder, hiding herself. Like this encapsulates everything I love about this trio. The safety they both feel in being open in front of Ney is just **chefs kiss** to me. Surprising her with Leo, Ramos, and Kimpembe has me squealing like a child, but the real star of the show is Taylor’s reunion with Luna. My god I love this kitty. 

The conversation between her and Verratti was perfectly awkward. Like we know he feels bad about how everything went down and like…he absolutely should and I love that Taylor made him squirm a bit. It’s exactly why I love Taylor as a character-her stubbornness and intensity is both her gift and downfall, but god when she uses it for her benefit it just makes me so happy. 

“What about short term?” he mumbled to her lips, giving it a light bite.“You” she said in a quick breath

OKAY RIP ME WOW. 

I’m conflicted about Galtier’s offer with the youth league. Because on one hand, I love that it would allow her to stay coaching in a sense, be close to Kylian and the rest of the boys, but I also remember how much she hated the whole system of how players are treated. “You can hep us build the foundations” like homie that’s not how this works….but okay. TYPICAL KY GETTING IN HIS HEAD THAT SHE DOESN’T CARE ABOUT HIM. CHRIST ON A STICK KYLIAN GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS. Their argument in the car is easily my favorite bit of writing thus far. It’s so fucking hilarious and on brand for the two of them to confess these big emotions while arguing like this and all while Taylors driving for the first time here lmao. 

“I did not make a pause! My lips are still moving—you cut me off—and for you information it’s the kind of logic that I can find other teams like psg, psg is replaceable—you are not!” she stopped the car abruptly in front of a red light, Kylian moving a little forward. Silence. Just the car sounds filling the emptiness. He looked at her in awe, he wanted to kiss her right there and then.

Like I’m sorry WHAT!!! OW MY HEART I LOVE IT. “psg is replaceable-you are not!” That just causes me goosebumps because it really shows the depth of her feelings. 

They’re finally happy. Like finally. I’m glad she took the job, but I worry that her reservations from the past assistant coach job will resurface and she’ll be unhappy again. ugh. 

Him referring to her has his girlfriend for the first time…oof. She’s better than me because I’m pretty sure my brain would short circuit and an Error 404 message would just pop up lmao. Like they were building new routines together that weren’t involving only their bodies but their hearts too. Domestic fluff like this shit is what I liiiiiiiive for. 

(K about to get sentimental and shit for a sec) Kylian speaking to the medics about her condition…this hit home. As someone who lives with a chronic illness that affects literally every aspect of how I’m supposed to live my life I really connect with Taylor in this capacity. It’s so hard to explain a version of life that is so drastically different than what is considered “normal” to others. I’m sure Kylian is wildly frustrated by her lack of sharing, but when you historically have to be the only one you yourself can rely on for shit, it’s hard to share that burden onto someone else…especially if you love them because you never want to give your shit to someone else. But that’s what she does. That quick little peck and “good to know you want to share it” from Kylian may have seem like such a throw away moment, but as someone who’s lived Taylors experience with this, it means everything. (K done with gross feelings now MOVING ON)

Of course I knew you were going to write Ney getting hurt…but god fucking dammit it hurts. Ney really feels like her family. Her brother. And hearing both Ky and Ney say “I’m tired” in the context they are saying it, I just know it’s breaking her heart. It’s back to the reason she hated the higher ups in the coaching gig again. No respect for the players. But I fear this will  just add fuel to her flame hatred of how these players are being treated. 

“He’s gonna need you.” “I know.” Neymessi going strong. 

Ooooooooooooh apartment conversations happening….I was wondering if I missed the memo of them officially living together but here we go lol. 

AGH HER GRIPE WITH COACHING STAFF COMES UP AGAIN. Taylor thank god you’re telling him the legit ruth and not sugar coating shit….where’s Taylor in real life because homeboy needs to hear this shit. AND SHE’S DONE WITH PSG. I FUCKING KNEW IT. DID I NOT CALL THIS. OH GOD BUT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN FOR THEM?! OH NOOOOO. 

Awwww the key. The keeeeyyyyy. 

The conversation between Ky and Leo is perfect. Truly no notes. We love Uncle Leo in this house. “That part had it’s pleasure, but you can break records anywhere Kylian.” He shrugged, scratching the back of his head “it’s who you break them with that makes it special.”  I feel like this is then counterintuitive to the dilemma…idk yet I haven’t fully formed that thought yet. 

LILY IS THERE. OH MY GOD TAYLOR AND BETH. AHHHH. I love Ky and lily’s dynamic its so stinking cute. I can only imagine how that looked to the others though hahaha. Like some random little girl none of them have ever seen comes crashing into Kylian and he’s like so chill about it. I’m sure they thought he’s like lost his head or something hahaha. Oh interesting dynamic with Ethan and their dad. I’m intimidated by him. Did not expect him to extend that invitation to Taylor and her family…is this just me being suspicious? I’m not fully trusting it yet…

….british phone number….her leaving the youth league job….CHELSEA?! 😳

Okay that’s what I’ve got. God I’ve missed reading this fic and I’ve loved catching up with the past few chapters. Still the best fic I’ve ever read, hand to god. Mkay thats all ILYSM 😘

AAAAAAH I MISSED YOUUUUU

When readers disappear i get so worried they've given up 😭😭😭 I'm so happy you're still here!! YOUR NOTES ARE THE BEST AND YOU ALWAYS TAKE SO MUVH OF YOUR ENERGY IT MAKES ME MELT😭😭😭😭

I hope the final chapter will leave you satisfied 🥺

[barcaavengers]

Choosing Sides || Marco Asensio Imagine

Note: Hi guys!!! Look who is back by unpopular demand! I finished college so my life should be a little bit easier now and I’ll be able to work on requests more often. So yes, I’m slowly but surely working on them. I hope the nonnie who requested this likes it and I hope you all do too because I had fun writing this. Feedback is encourages so let me know what you all think!

In your change of life because of a relationship you had to get used to having two roles. One, being the supporter of your boyfriend Marco. Two, being the supporter and biggest fan of your favorite club FC Barcelona. It was all a contradiction and if it was confusing for anyone, people wouldn’t like to know how was it in your head and your life. Marco was…accepting of it, kind of. Through gritted teeth he was okay with it when you two were talking before being anything four months ago, but he somehow found it in him to accept it. For you it was no different, being a Culé in heart and soul like you were Real Madrid was the biggest no no. The enemies of enemies. It was the point where if you liked football, you had to choose between two faiths. Barça or Madrid. There was no way you could support both teams. You didn’t support the team as a whole of course. Yeah, you spoke with all of them and were good friends, but it didn’t meant that you liked the team. You managed to separate the players from the individuals. Cause you got along quite well with Ramos, you had your opinions of him as a player in your Culé point of view, but it didn’t stop you from liking him. Marco was…different from the rest in a way. He supported his club and loved it, but wasn’t as problematic as the others. At least that’s how he was before your eyes. “You know, I was going to play for Barça” he said when he found out you were a supporter of the rival team. “Really?” You questioned as you look at him and walked. It was maybe your sixth date and he had taken you through a small park close to his house. “Yeah” he says, “but they pulled out of the bid and Real got me.” “What a shame. What a waste” you say shaking your head and smirking. “It’s not that bad. You just see it like that because you are a strong supporter and everything related to us you will hate.” “I don’t hate it” you admit. “I just don’t agree to most of the things…” you shrug. “You know that in Barça I wouldn’t have had any chance of doing anything. With Messi, Neymar and Suarez, I stood no chance.” “You are good at what you do” you admitted. “You could have easily made your way into the team.” “Wouldn’t have been a major consideration for the starting eleven. It would always be them. There isn’t much to do. The only time I could’ve gotten a chance it could be when they are injured or suspended or something, or as a substitute.” “That’s how you started, though, and look at you now” you gesture at him and he smiles rather shyly. “The growing star of Madrid. The future of the club.” “People exaggerate” he said and you step in front of him. “This is coming from a strong Barça supporter. If I quote that, with all the pain in my heart, its because its true. Marco, if you keep it up like this, it’s just a matter of time until you get all the recognition you deserve. Yeah, you don’t have it now cause there is Cristiano and Benzema, and even Bale, but when they are all gone, you will be big.” “All those words make me believe it….Are You sure you don’t like the team? You seem to know a lot about us” he teases as he wraps his arms around your waist in an embrace. “Don’t push it, Asensio. I said what I said and nothing more” you roll your eyes and he chuckles before pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. Currently you two have been together for three months. You have already moved in with him because of his constant begging to have you close to him and have someone to come to after games, which it just warmed your heart and you couldn’t say no. Not like you couldn’t say no to your boyfriend with those eyes and that smile, and his face…and personality. Today you would be attending the first El Clasico as his girlfriend. Inside of you, many emotions were roaming around like excitement, happiness, fondness, anxiety, competitiveness. You know, the typical feelings any football fan who supported one of these teams always feels.You wanted to know the final outcome, but you also didn’t, scared of the result. Your team has trained well, yes, but so have they and you have seen it close and personal. Nothing has changed from their strong competitive side. The game was at the Bernabeu and your boyfriend had trained hard with the squad the day before for this match which leaves you with a sleeping Marco by your side when you wake up. He had probably set up his alarm for a little later so you weren’t going to wake him up just yet. There was enough time and after he trained so hard, he deserved it. You stand up from the bed without too much movement or sound to not wake him up to do your morning routine, finishing with you doing some good breakfast for your boyfriend. You hear the dragging of lazy feet coming from the hallway, meaning Marco had already woken up. “Buenos dias” he mutters sleepily and you turn around to look at him. His hair was all over the place, eyes halfway closed as he runs a hand through his face. “Buenos dias, mi amor.” You turn to the stove and after a few seconds he is right behind you, arms around your middle body and his head resting on your shoulder, letting out a hum. “Slept well?” “Mhm” he mutters and you smile to yourself. “I was going to take you out for breakfast.” “Don’t worry. You have a match and I don’t want you to be late again.” “Last time wasn’t your fault. It was the traffic.” “Still late” you say. Your movements are almost robotic as you try to finish the breakfast while your boyfriend is hugging you like a koala from behind. “Mhm” he hums again and later places a kiss on your cheek before letting go and moving to the table. You take the chance to reach for the fridge and pull out his tea and placing it before him. “Wakey wakey” you tease before reaching for his plate and also placing it in front of him. “Thank you” he smiles and takes a sip from his tea. You two eat in silence for a few moments, something normal between you two while he started to wake up. “I rather have you sleepy, that way you can’t score” you tease with a grin. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you slipped a sleeping pill in my tea” a pause. “Actually, no wonder it tasted different” he says as he looks at the container skeptically. “Still good, though” he shrugs and drinks some more making you laugh. “I’d never do such thing” you gasp and stand up to place your dish in the sink, then reaching for his but he takes your arm and pulls you across his lap. “Sure you wouldn’t. Why would I ever not trust a Culé?” He teased and peppered your cheek with kisses making you squeal. “Marco!” You laugh and he stops seconds after. “You are coming to the match, right?” “Wouldn’t miss it” you admit. “Are you nervous?” “Not really, just excited and anxious. The usual” he shrugs. “As a Barça fan I shouldn’t say this, but as your girlfriend I will” you pause, “you will do amazing. I know it.” “Thank you, babe” he smiles, pats your bare thigh and leans in to kiss you softly. “I’ll go get ready” he says and you remove yourself from him. “Do you want to go by yourself or I take you?” “Hm, didn’t thought of that” for his other matches you’d both decide. You wanted to give him time with his friends without reminding himself that he had to take you home, so you went in your own car. “I guess I’ll decide in the last minute.” You shrug as you wash his dish. You didn’t want to hear the whole squad trash on your team after the game if they won. Hell, no. You’d lose it probably. “That usually ends in me taking you, so I’ll do it.” He gets in the shower and you move to the closet room to select your outfit. Of course, the first thing you reach for is your Barça light blue away kit. The home ones looked decent, but you didn’t like how the numbers looked on it. Then again, you didn’t have anyone’s number because of your boyfriend because if not, you’d have Messi’s or Iniesta’s for sure. Add to it that you also loved the blue color. A pair of black jeans set your clothing along with a pair of blue sneakers and you make your way to the room to decide how’d you get your hair to look like. Maybe you’d leave it fall and then set it up in a ponytail or a bun. The options were there. You spot your boyfriend walking out of the bathroom in just his boxers, a towel moving quickly on his hair to dry it up a little as he goes to the closet room. You brush your hair and decide you will let it be but take a hair tie in case it gets too hot in the stadium, which by no doubt you know it will. “I forgot to tell you I got your-” he was walking out of the closet with the third kit jersey in his hand. You had to admit, the Real Madrid jerseys this season were lit because of the blue tones. Your boyfriend knew this, so he brought you the away and now apparently the third kit. Now when you look up at him, his expression was serious and you forgot he trailed off a few seconds ago. “What’s wrong?” You ask him. “That!” He spats out as he points at you and it hits you. The Barça jersey. “What about it?” “You are not going to wear that tonight, are you?” “Uh, yes? What else did you expect me to wear for a El Clasico? Emphasis in the me.” “Geez, I don’t know. Maybe your boyfriend’s jersey!?” He scoffs. “Uh, I do that for all your other matches and you know I do it for you.” “And why can’t you do this one for me? Do you have any idea-” “Because it’s a El Clasico and I’m a Barça supporter. That’s why” you say, the expression in your face screamed disbelief. “You can’t really expect me to not wear my clubs jersey in such an important match.” “You are also my girlfriend! It means a lot to me when you wear the jersey supporting me. You can’t be serious about this.” “That’s the same thing I say” your arms cross against your chest. “It’s not a big deal, Asensio. Relax.” Another scoff and a roll of his eyes. “Not a big deal? Everyone will be watching us. Everyone will see us arrive. Imagine the press! They won’t let this go easily if it happens. ‘Asensio’s girlfriend a supporter of the rival team’. Imagine all the shit they will be talking.” “Oh, so now you care about the press? Wait, no, let me rephrase that. You now care about what the press will say about me wearing a jersey that isn’t yours? About what they will say?” “I’m just saying that I don’t want things to go out of hand. Imagine all the people talking about it. About you not supporting me.” “I can always get your name in the Barça jersey. You were going to play for us anyway, right?” You ask like you just said the weather was nice today, which earns the death of death glare from Marco. “I’m serious about this. I don’t want people hating you for doing this.” “You know I support you, I don’t think it’s necessary for the whole world to know it. And if it is, I think it’s quite obvious if I’m dating you.” “You don’t understand…” “But I do! You are caring more about the people, the press, the headlines about Y/N wearing a Barça jersey and not her boyfriend’s in an important match like El Clasico, instead of what I want. Marco, I wear your jersey for all the games. This is stupid.” “Oh, this is stupid for you?” “Caring about what other people will think its stupid, yeah.” “How would you feel the way around?” “I would be happy because I know that no matter what you support me even though you wear the rival’s jersey. A jersey doesn’t mean anything in a relationship.” “Are you serious!?” He laughs in disbelief. “I can’t believe this.” “You knew this could happen. You knew from the very beginning what I supported. You were okay with it.” “But I thought-” “That you could change that? That for these cases my feelings for you would take over? Reminder I lived in Barcelona for a couple of months because of my internship.” “I don’t say it because of changing your mind. I say it because I thought you’d support me no matter what.” “Well, I do, Marco! Always! What the hell do you want me to do, Marco? Wear your jersey!?” “Yes! And not go out with theirs.” “Well, since you care so much about people seeing us today if I go in this jersey and making a big deal out of it maybe I should go on my own.” “Or stay home.” “What!? Because of this stupidity you want me to stay home!? This is ridiculous.” “Wearing that is ridiculous.” “Are you going to act like your squad now? Criticizing everything we do?” “Your squad is no different. You have Piq-” “Enough, Asensio! Just go!” You raise your voice and look somewhere that is not him. “Are you not coming?” “No. I might as well stay home like you said. Wouldn’t want to ruin your headlines if you score with something related to me and my jersey” you say with all the bitterness you can put into the words. “I didn’t say it because of that. I said it-” “I heard you just fine” you say and your hands lower to your hips. He is still pissed, you can sense it, but the way his eyes were looking at you through all the anger screamed he felt bad about it. Your first fight and it had to be because of a jersey. Unbelievable. He stuffs his clothing and sneakers in his bag, looking at you discretely but you are in your phone scrolling through social media, before he leaves without another word. As soon as you hear the front door close, you toss your phone to the side in frustration, tears forming in your eyes. You were really trying to understand him, and you did, but the jersey of your club meant as much as his meant for him. You thought that him knowing that you supported him no matter what would work, but apparently he needed to see the jersey on you to believe that. He made such a big deal out of it that you felt like there was another reason behind it, but what? He wasn’t one to hide what he wanted to say, and right now you had proof of that. It had to be something that went further than just a rivalry thing. It was hard to tell right now with your mind so clouded as it was right now. After a two hours, the match is about to start and you turn on the TV to be able to watch it. You could go ahead and show up there, you didn’t had to listen to him, but you wanted to avoid more possible fights because of it. You loved Marco with all your heart and soul. He was a grown man that acted like a five year old and you loved that so much, plus he was so sweet and a gentleman that you didn’t want to ruin what you two had because of a jersey, or another stupid fight. You watch the team warming up and you are quick to look for Marco. You spot him with Lucas and Isco, the two guys laughing and smiling while his lips were pressed together as he stretched his legs, using Lucas for support. You just hoped that this wouldn’t affect him during the match which he was starting. He had to do better than that, right? Not let feelings cloud his actions? The match starts soon enough and you sit up comfortably in your bed watching the game with a bag of chips, the way you do when you don’t go to the matches. The times you didn’t go to support him was because they were away or you didn’t felt alright, but they weren’t that often. You watch the game and start groaning at the mistakes your team does and wasted chances, but cheer and clap when Real wasted their own. Marco wasted one chance to score, hitting the ball too hard and sending it over the goalie. Good, but not good. Ronaldo tries as well, but Marc Andre is quick to read the move and catches the ball without a problem. Suarez is first to score and you scream and jump on your spot on the bed while clapping frantically. It was the first goal of the first half, so you couldn’t do much of a celebration just yet, but it was a good start. They show your boyfriend walking away and running a hand through his hair with a frown, trying to tell himself to focus by the look of it, and you feel bad about it. He was trying hard to score and he has had the chances, but with everything going on through his head, maybe it was clouding his concentration after all. You couldn’t help but feel bad about it even if it wasn’t your fault. The whole situation had been stupid, and both of you just went with your thoughts instead of coming to a happy medium, or somewhat of an agreement. You watch them as they go into halftime. Head hanging low and serious expressions, your boyfriend being the first one to head down the tunnels on his own. You sigh at the situation and hold your head in your hands. The best you could do was send him a text, but he probably wouldn’t be able to see it so you decide against it. If you went to the stands, he wouldn’t see you since he isn’t expecting you. The best option, if any, was to meet him at the dressing room. You weren’t going to make it to the stadium in twenty minutes, but you could only hope for the best. To solve the jersey problem as well, you decided to take Real’s third kit jersey with you, yet you still had Barça’s on. A couple of more minutes and you are on your way to the Bernabeu. All this time thinking what would you do or how to let your boyfriend know you were there. You show your VIP pass to the security guard and he let’s you park in the players area. You get the notification on your phone that the second half had started and you groan in frustration. By barely you missed the chance to see him. Opening the door, you step out and fix yourself in the window, adjusting your jersey before looking at his in the passenger side. Teeth find the corner of your cheek and you start chewing on it nervously before reaching for it and taking it out. Next thing you do, you pull on the jersey on top of Barça’s. Honestly that is the most you can do for your boyfriend right now, if by any circumstances you changed your mind all you had to do was pull it off and you would be happy with the jersey of the club you did support. Making your way through the stadium, you show your pass several times until you reach the dressing rooms. “Did they all left already?” You ask the security guard close to the door. “Yes, ma’am. Just a couple of minutes ago.” “Thanks…” you frown and look around before turning back to him. “Is there any way I can watch the match from here? A TV or something?” “Not really, although since you have the pass you can go close to the end of the tunnel, as if you were going to the field. You can’t go further though.” “That’s perfect. Thank you” you say, smiling and nodding your head before walking to the direction. You felt somewhat uncomfortable as you saw the stadium full with Madrid supporters. This felt so odd and even bizarre for you, like you didn’t belong here. Asensio’s jersey was turning heavy and it was getting hot, so you make a bun with both jerseys and tie it up on your back before pulling your head into a ponytail. Good. Much better. The view wasn’t complete, you could see the midfield and a little bit more but that was about it. The score had turned into 2-0 and you smile at yourself because your team is winning. You spot your boy running and trying to go past the defense and he does, but that’s as much as you see. You try to go a little further out and managed to see the big screens that showed the game. One pass, two passes. Umtiti takes the ball from Benzema but Asensio reads the move and is quick to steal it and kicks the ball, finding the back of the net from the low right corner and you jump and clap, muttering a yes. You watch him celebrate with his teammates, do his celebration dedicating the goal to his mom and then throwing a kiss to the camera, meant for you. Your heart warms at the gesture and you lean against the wall, watching the rest of the game unfold. The second half is over and your team wins El Clasico with a 2-1 score and your lips curve into a bright smile. Your heel turns and you head over to the dressing room. The Madrid squad comes in since your team is out there celebrating. A second win at the Bernabeu, of course your team would stay out showing it off but not in an arrogant way. It was mostly in the corner where your supporters were. Head nods in acknowledgement to some players before you spot your boyfriend, coming in last right behind Isco with his head hanging low, which makes him not notice you. Taking quick steps forward, he looks at the sound and his eyes widen at the sight of you. Arms go around his neck and you are quick to press a kiss against his lips and pull away. “Nice goal you did there.” “How long have you been here?” “Right after half time ended. I wanted to see you before to apologize but-” “No. Y/N, you have no reason to apologize. There is nothing you need to apologize about. I was wrong” he says, fingers moving lazily on your hips. “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay home. I shouldn’t have felt embarrassed that my girlfriend wasn’t wearing my jersey and care for what others might think.” “Marco, it’s fine” you say, cupping his face between your hands, his sad eyes looking at yours. “I just didn’t know it would be such a big deal…” He sighs and pulls you closer, you could tell he was struggling to say his next words. “I really don’t have anyone close to me supporting me through games. Just you. I score because I know I have someone else besides mom watching me…” “Marco…” you say under your breath as you search for his eyes which have dropped to the floor. “Baby, hey” you try to get his attention and he hesitates for a second before looking at you. “No matter what jersey I wear. No matter what team I support. No matter what in general, I’ll always support you” you kiss his cheek and he smiles softly. “I love you. I’m with you always and you should know that. My teams won’t ever change my mind about that.” “I know. I just…I don’t know what happened before…I got so mad because of something so little that shouldn’t mean much to me. I would never really feel embarrassed about you. You have your teams and you support what you want, I shouldn’t force you to wear a jersey you don’t feel comfortable with” he tugs at the jersey to emphasize what he meant. “I do feel comfortable in your jersey. Don’t get me wrong. I just…when it comes to these matches between your team and mine, I feel like a betrayer for wearing another jersey that isn’t mine. Like a two faced person and I don’t like it because it isn’t me. Your team is not me” you conclude. “Now you, your name on the back, that is me because you are part of me.” “I know, babe. I’m sorry for it” he frowns before leaning in and kissing you passionately. You two shouldn’t be doing that in the middle of the tunnels, but after the fight you two had, you two deserved it. He is the first to pull away after your hands reach for his sweaty hair on the back of his neck. “You can take it off” he says with his lips only inches away from yours. “What?” “I know you have theirs under it…” he says and you flinch a little. “Take mine off..” he tugs at it. “Are you sure?” “I want you to be comfortable, and you are not. It’s okay…” he says and you look into his half closed eyes for assurance. When you find it, you simply nod your head and he reaches to take his jersey off from you, careful to only have the hem of his shirt in his fingers to not leave you in just your bra for taking both off by accident. “Wow. Wow. Wow. Not here” Ronaldo says as he steps out of the dressing room and you giggle. “Our boy already getting his comfort? Too fast…Hold on, is that the Barça jersey?” Isco questions. “Uuuuuuh…” you draw out and look at your boyfriend. “Yeah. She supports them more than us” he rolls his eyes and smirks. “Wow, bro. I feel sorry for you. Living and dating the enemy” Isco says with a click of his tongue and shaking his head. “It’s not that bad. There are times where we forget we support different teams and things just-” “And I’m leaving. Heard enough. See ya in training. Y/N….See ya whenever” Isco waves off quickly and your boyfriend laughs which Isco joins as he walks away. “Do you want to go celebrate?” “But you lost?” “But your team won. You are hiding your excitement for me, which I appreciate but you can go ahead and scream and squeal while I change.” “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to. I don’t want you to celebrate something you are obviously not happy about.” “Well, we don’t have to talk about the match or how your team won. Just taking you out for you to be happy and call it a celebration.” “You are sure?” “Positive.” “Alright…” you say. “Go change so we can go home and go out.” Then you spot Barça players coming in. “Oh my God…” you squeak and Asensio turns his neck to look at what you were looking at and he sighs dramatically. “Do you want a marker for the signs?” “One step ahead” you say as you pull a black marker out of your back pocket. “Go ahead and change. I’ll be right here” you grin before moving to meet the players before they take the turn to the dressing room. You saw your boyfriend not move from his spot but he was looking at you with a bright smile before shaking his head and chuckling. He was sure of one thing in your relationship. If it ever happens that you will have to choose between him and Barça, he was absolutely, one hundred percent sure, that he’d lose. In that right moment, he realized he could never change your mind, or the mind of any culé, to support his team just a little, but at least he got your support all the time.

[junker-town]

Lionel Messi’s 73-goal season was an individual triumph, and a disaster for Barcelona

Remembering the greatest soccer player on Earth’s wildest season ever.

Anyone who has followed Lionel Messi’s career can, if they really think about it, pinpoint the moment when they realized he is better than any footballer they’ve ever seen. For me, that moment was his five-goal performance against Bayer Leverkusen in the UEFA Champions League.

These poor souls are not bad players.

Every member of this Leverkusen lineup had a solid pedigree. They started for their respective national teams, or had at least one season when they were considered one of the Bundesliga’s top players, or were eventually sold to a richer club for a lot of money. The midfielders were defensive-minded and the forwards were hard-working. Even if they did not have anywhere near the talent of Barcelona, they should have been very difficult to play against. This is a lineup that should have been, if nothing else, frustrating.

But they didn’t slow down Messi for a second. He sped right through them, as if the game was being played on a sheet of ice and Messi had skates while Leverkusen defenders wore sneakers. It isn’t hard to imagine Messi scoring five goals against a quality opponent, but it’s unbelievable how easy he made it look. This was when I realized there is no one like Messi.

These were goals 44-48 in Messi’s record-breaking 73-goal season, an accomplishment that has never been matched in high level soccer before or after that 2011-12 season. If European club competitions retain their current formats, no one may ever beat it.

But though it facilitated the greatest individual season of all time, Barcelona also found out that winning titles isn’t as simple as giving Messi as many goal-scoring chances as possible. Messi’s most eye-popping season wound up a colossal failure from a team perspective, and Barcelona has learned since that one superstar — even if he’s the best player the sport has ever seen — cannot carry a team by himself.

The how and why

Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo have posted 50-plus goal seasons so many times now that fans have taken the accomplishment for granted. But when both scored 53 goals during the 2010-11 season, conventional wisdom said that was as high as anyone could go. Diego Forlan, a World Cup golden ball and two-time European golden shoe winner, topped out at 35 goals in a year. Thierry Henry got to 39. Brazilian legend Ronaldo once had a 47-goal season, and never got close to that mark again.

While we assumed we had seen the pinnacle, then-Barcelona manager Pep Guardiola spent the 2011 preseason devising a new system that would prioritize, above all else, feeding Messi as many goal-scoring chances as possible. Messi’s previous season — his first as Barca’s starting center forward — went spectacularly well, but Guardiola believed he could get even more out of his superstar. Guardiola also sensed his 4-3-3 system was beginning to get found out, and he wanted to incorporate new signing Cesc Fabregas into the team.

Guaridola’s solution was to rotate his old setup with a 3-4-3 system that had a diamond midfield and no traditional wingbacks. The team’s shape and the quality of players in the center of midfield meant Barcelona could overwhelm opponents in the center of the pitch. The system was also unorthodox; Barcelona’s opponents had never seen anything like it.

Perhaps we should have known what was coming from Messi based on his performance in the Supercopa de España. He absolutely ragdolled Pepe — a large, tough defender who could knock out most people with one punch — for his first goal of the season.

Messi’s two goals in the first leg, a 2-2 draw away from home, gave Barcelona a great chance to win the trophy. His team struggled to contain Real Madrid’s attack in the return fixture, but Messi delivered two more goals, including an 88th-minute winner.

Messi would keep up this blistering goal-scoring pace for 10 months, almost uninterrupted.

The best of the 73

While the five-goal destruction of Leverkusen is the most famous Messi performance from his record campaign, my favorite is his utter destruction of Atlético Madrid. He got a hat trick — goals 10-12 for the season, all before the end of September — and it felt like he could have scored more. He forced an own goal, and was fouled several times at the end of slalom runs through multiple defenders that felt like they were going to end with shots on goal.

Messi scored his 15th of the season a couple of weeks later against Racing Santander, and showed off everything that makes him so special in front of the goal. He fully embarrassed two defenders and the goalkeeper in three touches. Before they realized what had happened, the ball was in the back of the net.

Goals 34-36 against Malaga were some of his finest work. The first, a header, was out of character for the miniature magician. But the next two were the kind that only Messi scores. On the second, he was surrounded by five defenders, and yet it felt like none of them could get close to him. He might as well have been playing in open space. On the third, he stepped past a hard challenge from his international teammate Martin Demichelis, then turned on the jets and burned the rest of the defense.

In the middle of the season, Messi hit an impossible-looking free kick to score No. 43 and terrorize Atlético Madrid a second time. Atléti complained that Messi shot before they knew play was live, but a perfectly positioned wall and goalkeeper couldn’t have done anything. To this day, it is arguably Messi’s most impressive free-kick goal.

Goal No. 61 might have been the most aesthetically pleasing of the bunch. It was vintage Barca, with Messi and Iniesta playing a perfect one-two combination, and Iniesta providing a backheel assist.

Throughout that season, it felt like Messi produced at this level every week. Unfortunately for Barcelona, Messi’s teammates weren’t nearly up to his caliber.

Messi can’t do everything

No matter the formation, Barca was set up to feed Messi shooting opportunities. Guardiola rotated playmakers Fabregas, Xavi Hernandez, Andres Iniesta and Thiago Alcantara, and on rare occasions put all four on the field at the same time. For opponents, focusing on slowing down Messi was nearly impossible, because so many different players could hit him with creative passes from any angle.

But there was a problem.

I believe that Messi’s 2011-12 is the greatest individual season anyone has ever had in professional team sports, but one person can only take a team so far in soccer. An expertly constructed team with no stars can stifle a team with the greatest player on Earth and a bunch of mismatched parts.

By the time El Clásico rolled around in December, Barca lagged well behind Real Madrid, despite Messi’s heroics. Pep’s 3-4-3 lacked defensive solidity, and Barca didn’t have another ruthless finisher to take pressure off its superstar. The Blaugrana’s highest highs were much higher than Real Madrid’s, but Ronaldo’s and manager Jose Mourinho’s team was much more consistent.

Real Madrid had lost one game and drawn one up to that point, while Barca had lost one and drawn four. But Barcelona cut their rival’s La Liga lead to three points thanks to a Messi masterclass away at Estadio Santiago Bernabeu.

Messi didn’t score — in fact, he rarely even got into the penalty area. But he was universally acclaimed as the best player on the pitch. He turned playmaker for his teammates, setting up Fabregas and Alexis Sanchez to finish off his moves. The match showed how Messi is arguably at his best: sitting in a deeper position, picking passes for runners in front of him, and arriving late in the penalty area to clean up the garbage after an initial save or block. But that strategy can only only work if the players in front of him step up.

Fabregas and Sanchez delivered on that day at the Bernabeu, but they never had the lethal finishing touch of Messi’s previous teammates, Samuel Eto’o and Thierry Henry, or his future teammates, Luis Suarez and Neymar.

One match later, Barca threw away the points gained in El Clásico. Fabregas scored in the first half against local rivals Espanyol, but didn’t attempt a shot in the second half of what ended as a 1-1 draw. Sanchez looked like he couldn’t finish his dinner, and was hauled off. Another draw against Valencia and a loss to Osasuna followed, effectively ending the La Liga title race by February.

But at least Barcelona still had a Champions League to play for ... ah, dammit.

The legacy of the best season ever played

Barcelona won Copa del Rey at the end of the 2011-12 season, but Barca supporters don’t exactly look back on this season fondly. Instead, it is remembered as the season when Chelsea dumped Barca out of the Champions League and Real Madrid posted a record 100 points.

The season fell apart for Barca one week in April when Mourinho and Chelsea manager Roberto Di Matteo came to the same conclusion: they had to shut down Messi at all costs, even if it meant leaving other talented players wide open.

And so, in both Champions League games against Chelsea and in El Clásico, Messi did not score. He played well in all three games, regularly finding open teammates for shots, but they couldn’t score, either. Fabregas, Sanchez and Pedro choked.

Guardiola’s idea to start the season made sense: if Messi is the best goal-scorer in the world, let’s surround him with good, unselfish supporting players who can give him as many shots as possible. But without a secondary finisher, teams could get away with swarming Messi and ignoring his partners. Barcelona had no plan B.

The failures of 2011-12 Barcelona, and the subsequent successes of Messi teams in which he plays a deeper role while others act as goal-poachers, suggests that we may never see anything like his 73-goal season again. Even if another Messi-level player emerges, they likely won’t be used in the same way he was. The lesson of that season is that it’s easy to gameplan against a team with just one focal point, even if that player is the best the sport has ever seen.

That’s why Barcelona would eventually buy Neymar, even though he was unproven in Europe, and the deal to sign him would put them in legal trouble. And it’s why they had to sign Luis Suarez in the immediate aftermath of him biting an opponent for a third time. With those two playing alongside Messi, Barcelona won a treble in 2014-15, capturing the Champions League, La Liga and Copa del Rey in the same season.

Messi can carry average players to title contention, but he is at his best when the opponent also has to respect his teammates’ goal-scoring. He’s too good in a deeper, playmaking role to be a goal-poacher.

Which is saying something, given that when he was asked to play as the primary striker, he scored 73 times. Messi couldn’t help Barcelona overcome its structural deficiencies, but he still performed the job he was given to near perfection. He was in the wrong role, with the wrong players around him, but the 2011-12 season was Messi at his absolute best.