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writings-of-the-unkown · 5 years

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Who Ever Said Rivals Shouldn’t Be in Love Has Never Met Us

request: yes

pairing : Tobin Heath x Reader

Y/N- your name

Y/L- your last name

Warning: some swears(F-word two or three times), gay, injuries?, ANGST sorry not sorry :|

972 Words

A/N: THIS IS FICTION ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE

I never thought that my personal life would crossover with my work life. Well except when I started dating Tobin, considering we both play soccer in the NWSL. I play out in Orlando with Alex, Ali, and Ashlyn, while Tobin plays for Portland with Meghan, Lindsey, Emily, and Adrianna. We don’t really see each other often but we do a lot of Skyping/FaceTiming.

“Hey Y/N, so glad we got to see each other. I’ve got something to tell you” Tobin said, after I picked up the call.

“Of course love, what’s up?” my accent pokes through more when I get nervous.

“So here’s the thing. The team went out last night and I had a few too many drinks. I don’t think it went any further than a make out session, but I’m telling you this in hopes that you won’t entirely kill me” Tobin said somberly. “Baby please say something”.

“I’ll have to call you later, the girls just came back so I gotta go” I said as I hung up on her.

“Hey what’s up Y/N? Do anything fun while we were out?” Ash laughed.

“Wait Y/N are you crying? What’s wrong hun?” I didn’t even register that I was crying until Ali brought attention to it.

“Tobin called, she-” I attempted to breathe as both Ali and Ash sat beside me on the couch. Ash had her hand on my knee and Ali had her arm around my shoulders and she was slightly squeezing me. “She cheated on me. I just can’t believe this” I turned into Ali’s shoulder and cried a little bit harder in that moment.

I don’t really remember what happened after that. But the next day we had a game, and guess who it was against. That’s right, Portland and Tobin. I really didn’t want to see her but I still have to play.

We got to the stadium and we went into the locker room. I sat next to Carson because my number is 15 so I was just gonna sit with my music, but she had a different idea. Ash was DJing for the whole team, so Carson decided to drag me up to dance with her.

The game starts and Tobin had the ball. She lead the attack and was coming straight towards me. I stepped up to challenge but she basically ran me over. I hit the ground hard, my neck snapped up from the impact of the hit, and my vision went black.

I felt someone lay their hand on my shoulder.

“Y/L, can you hear me? Try to open your eyes” a voice asked quietly.

I cracked my eyes open and focused on Ali, Ash, and Carson peering down on me. Ash helped me sit up. The med staff came over and pulled me off the field. They gave me the concussion test which I cleared me. I stood by the fourth official. The center ref waves me on and I immediately get the ball from Ali. I run down the sideline until Tobin marks me. I tried to nutmeg her, but that didn’t work out so well. She tripped me and I hit the ground once again. It seems as if she has it out for me and I was not going to tolerate her behavior any more. I hopped to my feet and got right into her face. Fear flashed over Tobin’s face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You know that I don’t fucking deserve this shitty treatment! First you fucking cheat on me, then you almost give me a fucking concussion! What the hell has gotten into!?!? This is not the Tobin I was planning to ask to marry me” I screamed at her. Alex got me to turn away from her and Alex motioned for Ali and Carson to come get me before the ref could give me a card.

“Were you really planning on proposing? Cause that would be---ow Ali what was that for? Carson complained after what I assume was Ali smacking her.

“Yeah I was because she was the love of my life” I said as sadness dripped from every word.

I was subbed out at halftime because my headache had gotten worse and the team doctor wanted to get me checked out by a neurologist. On the drive to the hospital after the game, my mind kept wandering to thoughts of Tobin. It is kind of a blessing in disguise that we play for different national teams. I’m sure my teammates will get a kick out of my despair at our next team camp.

When we got to the hospital, they checked me out and said that I did have a very minor concussion. They admitted me for observation. I told the team doc that he could leave but I also asked him to let Ali, Ash and Carson know what happened.

I sat in the dark and was eventually taken over by my thoughts. I was broken out by a knock on the door. My eyes could identify the silhouette of a person and they walked in.

“Hey Y/N, I’m not sure if you’re awake but I just wanted to apologize for the way I have been acting recently. I’m sorry, you don’t deserve to be treated the way I have been treating recently. I understand if you want to break up” Tobin had tears streaming down her face.

“Love, I am hurt by your decisions but I meant what I said out on the field. I was going to propose and I still am but please give me time to process what happened. Afterall, you did give me a concussion” I said with a smile.

“Anything for you Babe” Tobin whispered after she placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

I fell asleep in Tobin’s arms that night and for the first time in a long while, I was truly happy.

After all, who ever said that rivals shouldn’t be in love has never met us.

#requested #tobin heath #tobin heath x reader #fanfic #uswnt #uswnt imagines #this is fiction

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julia-highstorms · 5 years

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Play My Game (Tom x F!MC)

Author’s note: after latest ILB chapter, I needed something light and fun, so here we are! I imagine Tom and Julia as the most competitive couple ever and these two goofs are constantly competing over the most stupid things lol

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Pixelberry Studios.

Song: Play My Game - The Donnas

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Tom x F!MC (Julia Vance)

Word count: +2200

I almost broke my highest score

When you walked through that door

I lost my game and you're to blame

I could have been in the hall of fame

“Nooooo!”

“YES!”

Tom laughs maniacally as his Toad passes through a dizzy Yoshi, Julia’s avatar, after throwing a banana at her.

As soon as the green dinosaur stops spinning, the girl presses hard on the button, speeding up towards the finish line.

“Ugh I hate this fucking stupid rainbow road!”

Tom just keeps laughing beside her, his avatar easily gaining on the other competitors. Soon, Julia’s character shows up close to his.

It’s the final turn. The others are long behind. It’s only the two of them now.

She has to do something.

Suddenly, the girl throws the Wii control aside.

“What are you do—” - but Tom is interrupted when his girlfriend almost literally jumps on him, her hands in claws, ready to tickle him. - “STOP. I know what you’re trying to do!” - he says falling on his back, Julia landing on top of him, as he grabs her wrists with both of his hands, avoiding the tickling attack. - “I don’t fall for this anymore!”

“Are you sure?” - she smirks devilishly at him before showering his neck with kisses. Tom burst out in giggles, squirming beneath her. The girl’s fully aware how sensitive her boyfriend is, especially on his neck area.

Taking advantage of the situation, Julia pulls out and finishes the running while Tom still recovers from her attack.

“HA! First place!” - she makes a little dance of victory and Tom lets out a low curse.

“Hey, this wasn’t fair!” - his face still is all flushed.

“You’re such a sore loser, Sato.”

“How can I be a sore loser when you cheated?!”

“This is exactly what a sore loser would say!”

“Oh my God, you’re impossi—”

“I’m going out, kids.” - they are interrupted by Elliot as the boy crosses the living room and opens the front door of the old cabin, used to those two bantering.

“Where are you going?” - his sister promptly asks, forgetting the bickering.

“I’m going to meet Robbie. We’re going to the movies.”

“Okay, call me if you need anything! I can pick you up later—”

“Julia, it’s fine. Don’t worry about me. There are no more crazy cultists after my blood and mad grandma is gone. I’ll text you, don’t worry. You two have fun!” - and he leaves the house.

“When did he grow up so suddenly?” - she murmurs with tears in her eyes, but she soon recomposes herself. - “Anyway, where were we? Oh, right, I just defeated the unbeatable Tomoichi Sato on his favorite video game.”

“You won unfairly.” - he corrects her, but she just rolls her eyes and steps closer, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Well, what’s done is done.” - she states, her face now just inches from his. - “You know, we have the house all for ourselves—”

But before she can kiss him, Tom frees himself from her embrace and stays an arm long from her.

“I’m sorry, but cheaters aren’t allowed to get any of this.” - he points to himself and Julia groans in discontent. - “I claim for a rematch.” - and a devilishly smile spreads on his face.

Let's play ball we don't need a court

Just you and me baby full contact sport

And there's no ref to tell us to stop

So we can play until we drop

“Okay, this is unfair.”

“Why? You agreed on a rematch.” - Tom says, adjusting his glasses, that sly smirk still on his face.

“Yeah, because I thought we were going to play one of your video games again, like Street Fighter or whatever. Not that we were going to do this.” - his girlfriend explains, pointing to where they are and to the orange ball he holds. They’re standing in the middle of an empty basketball court in Swan Park. It’s a pretty sunny day and some people jog around and kids’ laughter can be heard from the playground area. - “You were part of a basketball team during your high school. This isn’t fair.”

“I just played it regularly for like, three years. And I spent one of it on the bleachers.”

“I spend my whole life on the bleachers, Tom.” - he chuckles.

“This will teach you to think twice before tickling or distracting me from my game.” - Julia grunts and they both start stretching out, their eyes locked on each other’s, defiant looks on their faces.

“So, who wins?”

“The one who gets more points, obviously. And just because you’re not used to playing it, don’t think I’m going to make it easy for you. Not after that betrayal.”

“Just shut up and let’s get this started already.”

“Guess you can defeat me?”

She smirks back at him.

“Oh, you’re on!”

After 15 minutes, they’re both panting, their eyes locked, carefully watching each other’s next movement. Tom’s winning, but Julia’s proven to be a great adversary, and she’s not too much far behind him.

“You’re not so bad like you said you are, Vance.” - he says, with the ball spinning on his point finger.

She gives him a sly smirk.

“Maybe beginner’s luck is by my side today.”

“Not for long!”

The game starts again. Tom races toward the basket, skilfully kicking the ball on the floor. She sprints closer, trying to grab the ball, but he’s dodges right on time. He flawlessly shoots the ball through the hoop.

“Damn your stupid... long arms!” - Julia curses, still a bit out of breath because of all that exercise, making her boyfriend giggle. They’ve never felt those 8 inches/20 centimetres height difference between them as much as now. - “What are you doing?!” - she asks as her boyfriend takes off his t-shirt.

“I am hot!”

“I hate you. I hate you so much.” - and mostly she hates how much she enjoys that view.

“Why? Am I too distracting to you, Vance?” - Tom smirks slyly, fully aware of what his bare chest does to her.

“You’re so dead, Sato.”

And without warning, she takes the ball and cross the court running. But soon Tom’s already hovering over her, trying to block her shoot. She can feel his chest bumping on her back as he tries to get the ball from hers.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Picking a full contact sport and taking off your shirt. Who’s playing dirty now, uh?”

“Well, now you know how I feel when you tickle me! Or when you start with all those damn kisses!”

“You love those kisses!”

“Oh, crap!” - Tom curses as Julia takes advantage of her short height, easily ducking underneath his arms and shooting the ball through the hoop. Another point. - “This was a good one.”

Tom’s about to go retrieve the ball, but Julia suddenly pulls him in. It’s all so fast and intense, and she’s far stronger than she looks, and the boy ends up losing his balance.

“Ouch.” - Tom complains when his back hits the floor, with Julia clinging onto him, showering his neck with those kisses that make his head spin.

The game is already forgotten and he kisses his demanding petite girlfriend back, his arms around her waist, flushing her closer to his chest.

“I’m not gonna apologise for this.” - she stops for a quick second, cupping his face between her hands.

“I know. ” - he grins back at her. And that’s true. He already was half expecting it. That she would in some way turn his game against him, again. And he would end up falling for it, again. He always did. And to be honest, he just pretended to be mad at her. He actually enjoyed it more than he should. - “Although this is the second time you attack me just today. And I hit my back.” - she lets out a mischievous giggle.

“Tom… No… more… games...” - Julia says between pecks on his lips, hovering over him.

“Okay, I guess that’s... enough for today.”

She grins mischievously and leans down, kissing him fully. The kiss gets heated in no time, his hands on her hips, hers on his hair, their hearts beating fast and their breaths quickening…

“Hey, this is a public area! Go find a room!” - they’re suddenly interrupted by a known voice nearby.

They immediately stop kissing and look over to where the sound of whistles and cheers come from, to find their friends there, on the other side of the court’s fence.

“Woo you go, you two!” - Imogen jumps up and down, while Parker chuckles and Danni shakes her head disapprovingly at them. Tom and Julia immediately pull apart, faces flushed.

“Parker, can’t you arrest them for, like, excess of PDA?” - Danni turns to the police officer standing beside her. - “I’m pretty sure this is indecent behavior.”

“Well, they haven’t done anything too explicit yet… and they’re just making out and are in love. Let them live, Danni.”

“I am a hundred percent sure I saw a boob grab.”

Imogen and Parker laugh loudly as the couple stands up and walks toward them.

“Uh, hey, guys! What are you doing here?” - Tom asks, his face burning with embarrassment. He’s already put his t-shirt back on.

“I was taking pictures as usual when these two showed up.”

“Today’s my day off and I like helping the Boy Scouts whenever I can.” - Parker smiles proudly.

“Well… I’ve met with a lawyer earlier today and my head was so full of everything that I needed a bit of fresh air.” - they all smile to Imogen. She surely was the one who suffered the most with all that hell that happened a few weeks ago, losing her best friend, her horse and her parents. Naturally, she inherited all her parents possessions and properties and was having to deal with the legal part of it. - “And today’s such a beautiful day, so I came in here and bumped into Parker and Danni. I was just telling them about this new restaurant that opened nearby when we heard your shouting.”

“That was a pretty intense game, guys. Well played. I didn’t know you played, Julia.”

“I don’t, but someone...” - Julia answers Parker, playfully bumping her shoulder with Tom’s. - “...is a sore loser so we were having a rematch.”

“I’m not a sore loser when you cheated to begin with!”

“So, will you come have lunch with us or what?” - Danni interrupts before they start bickering at each other again. - “I’m starving.”

They both immediately decide to go with them.

“Yay! Follow me!” - Imogen squeals and the group walks together in a relaxed pace, enjoying the shadow of the trees. - “The restaurant is right in front of the park entrance! You’ll love it! They have these killer fries and this pink lemonade—”

“Wait, wait, will we be able to pay it?”

“Of course you will! I don’t eat only on fancy restaurants, you know!” - Imogen chuckles. - “And I can pay your part if you don’t have enough money, Danni.”

“I wouldn’t accept it, but thanks, Genny.”

“Nonsense, we’re friends!”

“Anyway, my wallet thanks knowing that I can pay it.”

“Seconded.” - Parker agrees.

“Thirded.”

“Fourthed.” - Tom and Julia say. He looks down at his girlfriend with a grin, her hand interlacing with his, while he carries the ball on his other arm. They walk a bit behind. - “Guess we’ll have to put our rematch on hold.”

“‘On hold’? I clearly won. Again.” - she smirks. - “Just accept this, Sato: I won, you lost.”

"I guess you hit your head when we fell because I was winning. But what do you say we solve this next? This still isn’t over, Vance.”

“You’re insufferable. Lucky you that you’re so darn cute and I love you.” - and she kisses his cheek, whose grin widens. - “Hey… do you want any help packing up your things tomorrow?”

The boy feels his heart shattering a little. The summer is almost over and he’s moving out of Pine Springs the next day now that all that supernatural weird stuff is gone. And he wants to spend every moment he has with Julia. And this is why they’ve been hanging out daily with each other for the past weeks, because they already miss each other. And this is why he likes teasing her to keep with that stupid playful competition between them. Because they know they’ll be months apart until they can see each other again.

“Yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks.”

“No problem.” - she smiles warmly at him, squeezing his hand tighter as they enter the restaurant. - “...But I’ll pick what we’re going to play next.”

“Okay, and what will it be?”

“Strip poker.” - she whispers on his ear and watches with satisfaction her boyfriend’s face turning a shade pinker. She bit back a laugh. - “I’m joking. I don’t even know how to play poker.”

“Oh. Okay. Good.” - he immediately seems more relaxed. - “Can you imagine? What if Elliot came back home right in the middle of the game and found ourselves in our underwear there? I guess I would die of embarrassment.”

“Haha, Elliot would probably just ignore us but lock me out of our room.” - Julia laughs as Danni yells at them:

“Hey couple! If you don’t hurry up there’ll be no seats left for your pretty asses!”

“Jeez, so bossy! We’re coming!” - she yells back before turning to her boyfriend again: - “We’ll continue this later, Sato. And you’ll play my game.”

“I can’t wait.” - he kisses her temple and they join their friends.

Well you can play my game

But I’ll put you to shame

Tagging @littlecrookedheart @pixelburied @mysticgayralsei @breaumonts @christopher-powell @madhattterusagi @noahpologiste @samira-yazdi @mysteli @indiacater @indescribablechoices @emomoustache @choices-fanatic @edgydepressedchoicesthot @violarobics @withoutanyconfidence @tiz-rex @priya-trash @alicegma @thequeenchoices @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl

#tom sato #tomoichi sato #tom x mc #it lives beneath #ilb #playchoices #ilb fanfic #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfiction

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billvsamerica · 6 years

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Part I: Trying to be a good sport

It was the last minute of the match. We were down 2-1 in the semi-final of the playoffs against our bitter rivals, the staff of a local Mexican restaurant. I had just scored a goal to get us back in it, and the ball rolled out of play behind one of their substitutes. He slides the ball behind him and flicks it through his legs. Obviously, I shove him, grab the ball, and ready myself to throw a huge throw-in towards our striker. He would then head it in the goal, take the game to extra time, and I, of course, would score a decisive penalty.

Instead, a man who could be no less than 150 years of age in a snazzy referee’s uniform blows his whistle and shows me my second yellow card. What unfolded next was like a scene from Narcos.

“You want me to whoop your ass?” their tiny striker whispered to me in a sexy Antonio Banderas way.

Who are you, I thought. The Rock? You look more like the pebble. I didn’t say this, but I should have.

“Go on.” I said and leaned forward into his face.

As I began to walk towards my car, an elderly man walked towards me trying to block my path from the field.

“What are you gonna f*%$*#g do?” I screamed at him.

He looked confused. I don’t think he knew what he was going to do. Either he didn’t speak any English, thought the game was over and was just walking to his car, or had inadvertently wandered onto the field while out with the dog.

The team lost that game 2-1 and I had to send an email out apologising for my behaviour to my own team. My own team. Additionally, I was banned for the duration of the season.

In England, I wouldn’t have even received a yellow card. A black eye maybe. Which I would have preferred.

Me in one of the novelty joke kits my team plays in.

This brings to mind another time - and believe me, there are a few. One Saturday morning, I was having a kick about with a bunch of people at a local park. Some bloke with long hair and a very high opinion of himself kicked me to the ground. I got up and shoved him (most of these stories involve me shoving people), which he did not appreciate.

At the end of the game, he followed me to my car, where my good lady wife was waiting to pick me up.

“Does he beat you? I bet he beats you!” he screamed this at the top of his voice dancing around like some sort of possessed Cat Stevens impersonator. After a bit of back and forth, I jumped in the car.

“Drive. He’s lost his mind. Drive!”

We drove off, and I can only assume steam blew out of his ears and that he spontaneously combusted all over the car park.

Since I started playing amateur football in America, I have received four red cards. It’s lucky the swear words over here are different to those in England or I may have received a lifetime ban for my reactions to some of the frankly bizarre calls. Playing anywhere else I would have probably received a couple of warnings, a pat on the back from my team mates, and a round of drinks at the local. I’ve tried complaining. I’ve tried losing my rag - which translates in American as getting all jive turkey - but neither have worked. Instead, I must assimilate. I must become one of them. I must play by the rules?

In addition to irritating the local community of confused soccer aficionados, I’ve been coaching a kid’s soccer team for the last couple of seasons. After playing the game myself, I’ve realised that I need to give back to this starving sporting community. I want to show them how real football should be played. Lump it up to the big bloke up top, he nods it down, and somebody scuffs it in from five yards out.

Anyway, my team, the Blue Badgers (formerly known as the Purple Strikers) fell to an unfortunate defeat in the final of our first season and did the same thing this season. To say I was more devastated than them on both occasions is an understatement.

As the games went on, the other team’s parents started to dwindle and mine started to grow. The fact that a big weird English bloke was shouting instruction to the players the whole time probably brought a bit of entertainment that the quality of the soccer (football) lacked, and I may have, in turn, scared the other parents off. Despite the changes in soccer coaching over the years and the move to prevent micromanaging during games, I’m a firm believer that they should do things right and listen to me shouting my head off at them. I still remember my father’s rants from the sideline.

“Billy! Billy! Billy!”

“What, dad?”

“Play better!”

“Yes, dad.”

He wasn’t even the coach.

His constant barraging may not have led me to become a professional footballer like he’d hoped, but I’m feeling the benefit fifteen years later as the up and coming coach for the under twelve squad of a small group of children in Greenville, SC.

The Purple Strikers line-up from the first season

Recently in an interesting turn of events, the team I coach had a special exhibition match against a local team who are made up of Central and South American players. These kids were younger than ours, more skillful, and had probably been kicking balls since they were only little niños.

The game got underway and one of their kids slid into the back of my star striker’s legs, taking him out. Slide tackles aren’t allowed in my league, much to my irritation. I shouted to the ref and told their coach that their kids should be more careful. This did not go down well with the droves of parents who came with them. A mixture of English and Spanish words were thrown at me, which I returned for a while before losing interest and attempting some bold tactical moves to get us back into the game.

When I moved to America, I honestly never thought I would start an individual race war against Latin Americans. I don’t agree with Trump. The only wall I want them to face up against is three 10 year olds when they’re readying to take a free kick.

Me and two of my rival coaches. The Blue Badgers destroyed both their teams on the way to the final.

After the game, which we lost 7-3, I heard one of their parents talking to my boss.

“Your coach! He started a fight with us! He wanted to start a fight!” He kept saying over and over again.

I don’t like liars. I do like people from south of the border though, let me just make that clear. I’m not a racist, which I am fully aware is the tagline for all racists.

But on this rare occasion, I had not started a fight with a child’s father.

“Look, mate. You listen here. I wasn’t starting a fight. We’re not allowed slide tackles and...”

“You’re no coach, you’re not a coach!”

He clutched his child’s hand as I walked away.

“You wine-o. Wine-o! Wine-o!”

The former English teacher in me woke up for a second. And, for once, I hadn’t been drinking. I stomped back down the hill to teach him a lesson. A grammatical lesson.

“Look, wine-o means somebody who drinks lots of alcohol. Not somebody who whines a lot. That is a whiner!”

“You are. You wine-o!”

Christ, I thought.

“I’m not having a go here. I’m trying to help you in case you get into any other altercations with children’s soccer coaches in the future.”

He stared blankly at me, so I wandered back up the hill. He could have that one for free.

“Wine-o!”

Last straw.

“And you’re a great father,” I said. “Father of the year over here!” I reiterated sarcastically.

He followed me to my car, which I got in and drove away without getting the wing mirrors kicked off. Once again, the car had proven to be a handy exit strategy against angry, testosterone-fuelled berks living in America.

After getting into altercations with the staff of a Mexican restaurant, a granddad referee, a devout Christian with long hair, and a child’s father at a soccer match, what have I learned? I’ve learned that they’re all mouth and no action. Also, I should probably go and seek some sort of anger management therapy even though, as you can see from my totally unbiased account of the events that unfolded, I was totally in the right on all occasions.

Next time... PART II: I tackle the world of organised sport (if I don’t get hunted down with pitchforks beforehand).

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emotrinityimagines · 7 years

Text

Riot Girl

A/N: Totally unrequested. Inspired by @chemicalimagines’s soccer!reader and punk! Gerard. Idk. It’s fluff.

Word Count: 1220

Warnings: A couple of soccer bitches? Thas it?

#7, the angry defender, and her pal #16, smashed into you from either sides, making you lose your footing and the ball while you were at it. Luckily, the other forward, your best friend, swooped in and got it. She was about to take her shot when #7 from the other team blindsided her, tackling her to the ground and out of bounds.

“Card! CARD! Are you fucking blind?” you yelled, scrambling to get up from where you laid. Your swift legs stalked over to where the asshat #7 and y/b/f lay on the ground. Y/b/f was in serious pain, holding her ankle in distress. Two of your teammates came and started helping her off the field, so it was up to you to confront the bully who was somehow not getting fucking carded.

“What is your problem?” you shoved my finger in #7’s chest, getting up in her face. “You’ve been targeting us the whole game, are you trying to get us hurt?”

“Speak for yourself you fucking bitch!” She huffed, shoving you backwards into another teammate of yours who came to back you up. You noticed both your teams were starting to come over and gather around us. “You landed on McKenzie!”

“She grabbed my hair and pulled me down with her!” You protested, resisting the urge to shove her back. #7 frowned deeply, nearly growling when she took you by the shoulders and dug her fingernails into your already marked up skin. “Get off!” You yelled, squeezing her wrists and pulling them down and off you.

Just then a ref grabbed your arm, dragging you out of the crowd. “Who the fuck do you think you are, young lady!” He scolded you, digging in his pocket. Why were all refs like this?

“Ref, y/b/f just got blindsided and got her ankle fucked up and she doesn’t even get a direct kick penalty?” You threw your hands in the air, enraged at the fact that you knew what was going to happen. This was the first time it had ever happened.

He held up the red card, making the people in the stands boo even more loudly than before, although you’d forgotten they were even there. You scoffed in disgust, dropping your hands and head in defeat. You turned on your heel to walk back to the bench but snapped your attention towards the stands when you heard that oh-so-familiar voice.

“Fucking bullshit ref! She didn’t do a fucking thing, the giraffe over there shoved her! Fucking card her!” Your boyfriend, Gerard, shouted from the stands along with his best friends and brother, who joined in as well.

“Card her!”

“Y/N doesn’t deserve it! Card seven!”

“Yeah, off the bitch!”

You hid a smile underneath your hand. Frank never failed to make you laugh. The ref turned to them, cupping his hands to use as a microphone to yell at the only black spot in the sea of our bright school colors. “Young men if you cannot conduct yourselves in a respectful manner I can have you removed from the grounds!”

“Aw, guess that means I can’t streak today huh? Damn it’s fantastic weather for the balls to hang free, you know my man?” Gerard sighed to Frank, pretending to be defeated.

Frank stuck out his bottom lip, looking towards the ref. “Yeah, ref! We’ve been looking forward to this a while. It’s our favorite soccer pastime!”

You giggled, raising a hand in a thumbs up as you made your way over to the bench, where you’d stay for the rest of the game. But you didn’t mind. You knew what you did was right, and that everyone would support you for it.

“She said it’s broken,” you sighed, flicking your tongue up to let the chocolate ice cream curve into a swoop. “She’s done for the rest of the season. So am I.”

“Me too,” Gerard grinned, interlocking your spare hands together while licking up the melted vanilla ice cream that dripped down the cone and onto his fingers. “They said that we’re a new record for game time disturbances, and that we can’t come anymore. But I know Doris loves how supportive I am of you, so she’ll let me in.”

The corner of your mouth perked up. “Doris is a sweetie. But you’re lucky she’ll even do that. I bet if she wasn’t friends with your grandma-”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” he rolled his eyes, taking another mouthful. You resisted the urge to tell him not to do it because you knew it was no use; he would do it anyway. Dumbass must like brain freezes. “I just need to dial it down a bit, I guess.”

You chuckled. “No, I’m the one who needs to dial it down a bit. It almost turned into a fist fight.”

“You’re too nice to get into a fist fight. You’d hit the girl then apologize, but probably hit her again. And apologize. It’s an endless circle,” he sighed, letting go of your hand to throw his arm up. “‘Fuck you!-Sorry. Eat a dick!-Oh, gosh, I didn’t mean it. Kiss my ass!-Please accept my sincerest apologies, kind sir-”

“Okay, okay! I get it,” you giggled, covering his mouth, as he was attracting attention. “I apologize a lot. I get it.” You paused, thinking about the next morning. “What’s gonna happen tomorrow? Soccer is the only reason people like me and if I don’t have that-”

It was his turn to cover your mouth, silencing your little anxiety-fueled rant. He made sure you were gonna shut up before lowering his hand back to the table. “Don’t you worry your pretty little face about that. Me and the boys…we’re working on something to fix it.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Gerard, you know there’s nothing-”

“You just wait, babe,” he grinned mischievously. “You just wait.”

It’s been a week since the incident of the soccer game, and now prom was a few days away. For some reason, Gerard hadn’t given you a promposal yet. Granted, he was your boyfriend and he didn’t have to, but he always loved spoiling you and showing off the fact that you were his girl.

It was lunchtime, and you was walking back from the food area from getting a spoon when a soccer ball rolled towards your feet. You stopped it and picked it up, reading the inscription on it. “You always get me out of trouble, now it’s my turn. Welcome back to the team. P.S. The promposal is coming, don’t you worry your pretty little face.”

You looked up at Gerard, who was standing with his friends and your team, who were all smiling at you. “I-I’m back?” You stuttered, studying all their faces, searching for a hint of a lie.

Our coach walked through the sea of players. “Damn right you are, y/n/n. Goth boy here and his buds sent a video of the ref to the state sports association and they thought it wasn’t right. So you’re back!”

You were ready to bust into happy tears, and ran up to Gee, jumping onto him and wrapping your legs around his waist before lifting his chin up in a dimension altering kiss.

Sequel? Maybe?

#gerard way imagines #gerard way imagine #punk!gerard #soccer!reader #punk!gerard x soccer!reader #gerard way x reader #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance imagines #my chemical romance #mcr #mcrimagine #mcr imagine #fluff

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junker-town · 5 years

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THIS WEEK IN SCHADENFREUDE, Texas is just hopping mad

Texas leads a wide-ranging tour of the angry college football internet after Week 9.

Welcome back to THIS WEEK IN SCHADENFREUDE, your weekly rocket ship ride through the most infuriated regions of the college football galaxy. Last week, this page focused exclusively on Ohio State, because that was the only logical choice. This week, we’re taking a journey around a small handful of furious fanbases on the internet.

Texas lost to Oklahoma State, knocking the Longhorns out of the top 10.

Though they remain in the thick of a chaotic Big 12 race, it’s a disappointing moment for Tom Herman’s bunch. Said one Longhorn fan afterward:

I don’t want to watch football anymore

That was the title of a message board thread. This was the profound body:

And there you have it.

A former Texas linebacker got into a fast-escalating online beef with a current Texas cornerback, who’d been suspended for the first quarter.

Ex-Horn Emmanuel Acho initially defended the suspended Kris Boyd, because Texas sitting down a starting cornerback had the side effect of helping OSU get lots of yards:

I understand all the, “teach your players a lesson” tweets, but YALL understand, if Saban benched players everytime they violated team or American laws, Bama might not have a single national title.

— Emmanuel Acho (@thEMANacho) October 28, 2018

But then Acho — who’s now an ESPN analyst — got rougher.

Bruh, you can’t be late to meetings THEN come out here and get mossed. Your team needs you. #Texas #OkState

— Emmanuel Acho (@thEMANacho) October 28, 2018

And then he used the “trash” word ...

I can’t watch this dude play defense anymore. It’s actually trash. If you know. You know. #Texas

— Emmanuel Acho (@thEMANacho) October 28, 2018

... and said he wasn’t talking specifically about Boyd, but, uh:

Naw I feel u, and I didn’t say I was talking about Kris, I would never put nobody on front street like that... but anybody who feels that tweet applies to them should probably step up. I played hella trash games in my day lol. U grow and move on u feel me

— Emmanuel Acho (@thEMANacho) October 28, 2018

How’d Boyd respond? Aggressively.

Boyd going straight after Acho on Instagram. Smart. pic.twitter.com/0LuqqMGzl4

— Burnt Orange Nation (@BON_SBNation) October 28, 2018

Fortunately for Boyd, INSTAGRAM ASSAULT is not a violation of team rules.

One fan had a spicy take about what should be done to the game’s officiating crew: They should all be handed over to the mob.

Refs are screwing us again

The offsides on that 4th down was f%<*¥ing criminal. Somebody send the mafia to threaten the refs to pay these dickheads back for 2015.

Texas fans were livid at the officiating in 2015’s OSU-UT game, when a few apparent officiating errors went against the Horns. Every other Big 12 fan in the universe thought it was deeply ironic to see Texas fans upset about refs.

(Texas actually had a legit beef about that offside call, yeah. Oklahoma State sent a bunch of guys in a “motion” that looked a lot like emulating live play, and refs didn’t call a false start, but instead penalized the Horns for jumping off. The Horns also probably got away with a penalty in their end zone later in the game. Either way, Sicilian crime families must get involved.)

This Horns fan was MAD and only got MADDER when nobody wanted to join in being EXTREMELY MAD.

User TexasHorn started this thread on the team’s 247Sports message board before Texas’ body was even cold, while it was still the second half:

A COMPLETE JOKE

Dan Neil, we have our answer, NO, Texas is not mature enough to handle success

Being destroyed on national television - not sure if the Horns can recover before next week because wvu has a better team than osu

Nobody responded, so they added:

Sorry for being honest - where am I wrong guys, seriously?

Any one thrilled with this performance?

Still, nobody responded, so they added again:

Explain the off sides guys - want to argue the complete joke comment?

So tired or posting without any response - gutless!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Finally, someone replied:

We’re playing scared like a bunch of pussies. Coaches and players.

Persistence always pays off.

THIS WEEK IN SCHADENFREUDE is usually about fans, but Tom Herman is now the second head coach to make an appearance, thanks to the end of the game.

This is the sort of sprinting velocity that can only be generated by pure anger.

Recap of Tom Herman & Mike Gundy in the late scrap, their postgame handshake and Gundy's interview explanation pic.twitter.com/CMzJpKwzpw

— CJ Fogler (@cjzer0) October 28, 2018

(Herman and Mike Gundy are fine.)

Herman joins Jeremy Pruitt, who kicked a whiteboard and was thus included by rule:

Hey Knoxville... how's it going? #UFvsUT pic.twitter.com/HxplOn0uRQ

— Mike Gillespie (@MikeABCColumbia) September 23, 2018

Washington lost to Cal as a disappointing season became a total failure.

The Huskies are not even making a New Year’s Six bowl in Jake Browning’s senior year, two years after getting to the Playoff with him as a sophomore.

In some corners of the web, faith’s running short in Chris Petersen.

At HardcoreHusky.com, someone started a thread: People you have more faith in than CP, reflecting the fanbase’s growing impatience with Petersen, whose job titles are head coach, Guy Who Won a Million Games at Boise State, and Guy Who Got Washington to the College Football Playoff.

This was the only thing there:

Photo by Stephen Chernin/Getty Images

This was another fan’s measured response:

FUCK THSI PROGRUM IM FUCKING OUT

WE SUCK SND SHOULDNT LOSE TO CAL. WE ARE A LOSER PROGRUM. UPPER CAMPUS DGAF ABOUT WINNING. FIRE PEENERMAN. END TNIS FUCKING TEAM.I WANT DONG JAMES BACK. I WANT TO FUCKING WIN. NO JUAN IN THIS FANBASE HAS DTANDARS EXCEPT FOR THOS SITE. YOU GUYS GET ITZ PETERMAM DOES NOT. FUCK EVERYTHING.

Someone urged this poster to say calm:

Stay positive! Fuck Petersen!

But this blunt response to the loss pretty much summed it up:

We lost to cal

Lol I’m done. Fuck Husky football. Fuck Petersen. Fuck Browning. Fuck Haener. Fuck everything. Roll tide.

Maybe that sounds harsh, but UW fans have wanted Bama since early in 2016:

Settle down, Washington pic.twitter.com/4lnFCfcJ4i

— College Football by SB Nation (@SBNationCFB) September 3, 2016

Miami lost to Boston College, which means it’s time to look at how Hurricanes fans responded to the team’s official Twitter account in real time.

When Miami loses, checking Twitter’s important, because Canes fans are always the most direct in college football. The classic of this genre:

I’m gonna jump off a building

— Heat 3x (@Jbazo5D) September 3, 2018

As Boston College put a thumping on the Canes, fans responded well. Just follow along with various score updates and quarter breaks.

1. After the first Boston College score:

Already with the bs

— Howard Webster (@TbearCane17) October 26, 2018

2. After, um, a Miami score:

Right...embarrassing.

— Carlos Marante (@ItsACanesThing5) October 27, 2018

3. After another BC score:

Is this a retweet?

— Tucker McFall (@RealTuckMcFall) October 26, 2018

4. End of the first quarter!

pic.twitter.com/UqrP2scamn

— Brandon English (@BEnglish007) October 26, 2018

5. After some ostensibly good news?

Way to look at the bright side.

— Brandon English (@BEnglish007) October 27, 2018

6. After an actual good play:

Throw the ball in front of the receiver and it could've been 6

— Christopher Gray (@Barclayallday26) October 27, 2018

7. After a touchdown by Miami:

How on Gods green earth do you have a -5 yard punt return, inside the 10-yard line, with not one but TWO blocks in the back on the return? That's piss poor

— Tucker McFall (@RealTuckMcFall) October 27, 2018

8. After a defensive stop by Miami:

We must be trying to run the clock out....ridiculous

— umcane (@umcane26) October 27, 2018

9. Halftime!

Yes a dogfight with BC! Proud day for the Canes.

— Bryant Jensen (@Bjensen630) October 27, 2018

10. After another good play by Miami’s defense:

BC knows our QB can’t hit the side of a barn further than ten yards so they playing up on the line

— solidlifefitness (@solidlifefitnes) October 27, 2018

11. A little later:

This guy is worse than Jacory Harris

— The Bad Hombre (@jbjammin34) October 27, 2018

12. Things getting desperate:

Get Jimmy Johnson out of retirement

— John Bennett (@DirtyBirdz19) October 27, 2018

13. The Turnover Chain is out! This is good for Miami!

This is the most remedial offense I've ever seen

— The Bad Hombre (@jbjammin34) October 27, 2018

14. End of the third quarter!

Social Media dude.. let Coach know Malik ain't it. Thanks boss.

— Joey Inza (@JoeyInza) October 27, 2018

15. Game over.

Joke.

— Nick Alvarez (@NicksTake22) October 27, 2018

I’ve said it before, but Miami fans are the overprotective relative who will roast you all day but threaten to burn down the house of anyone else who criticizes you.

I respect and fear them in equal measure.

Ultimately, it was best to just step away.

recap, 3 stars, good, bad, and ugly up on https://t.co/W9gmsOyW7d i have nothing else to say. i'm going to play #RDR2 bye.

— StateOfTheU.com (@TheStateOfTheU) October 27, 2018

Florida lost to Georgia, ending the Gators’ dreams of winning the SEC East.

Gators fans were actually pretty reasonable about it. I don’t have jokes. I’m just making the note here so that you know I was as disappointed to learn this as you were. I checked.

In all kinds of weather, y'all, and go Gators pic.twitter.com/jTaaNcXnvS

— BUM CHILLUPS (@edsbs) October 27, 2018

And TCU lost to Kansas, thus earning automatic inclusion as the last team on this list.

Things are dark in Fort Worth.

Is this how Baylor Feels?

For the first time I am embarrassed to wear my TCU gear in public.

The last spot in this list is now just tradition, devoted to any team that might lose to Kansas in a given week.

In Week 3, a Rutgers fan asked after losing to KU: “What stage of grief are you in?”

They have grinded me down into not caring about college football at all just like the Knicks and the Mets have done in basketball and baseball respectively. In a way it’s good. I can enjoy my kids without having to give a hoot about the scores on Saturdays.

Before that, in Week 2, a fan of the MAC’s Central Michigan wrote this:

Fire Bonamego

I know I’ll hear a lot of the usual “it’s too soon in the season” and “MAC play hasn’t even started”, but I’ve been a die-hard supporter of the football program and I EXPECT us to compete against the power teams every year. There’s no reason that we can’t be like Boise State or better. We need to strive to be better and we shouldn’t settle for mediocracy.

Again, that was a MAC fan distraught about losing to a Big 12 team.

Congrats to the Horned Frogs and their fans on joining this prestigious club.

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