Elevensies

03. Halves. Steven Gerrard, G.

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 16:02:12 GMT

Title: Body.
Characters: Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso. :D
Prompt: 047.Heart (for fanfic100), 03. Halves (for footballslash11)
Word Count: 161
Disclaimer: one word: fiction.
Rating: G
Summary: Stevie is the heart, and Xabi is the brain.
Author's Notes: ooookay, totally ripped off the community title of stevieandxabi. I'm sorry, pendules. D: (and wtf, the title. :\)

07. Opinions, Steven Gerrard, PG.

Wed, 04 Jun 2008 11:00:49 GMT

Title: deviation. (Lines related drabble)
Author:nadi_wamos
Characters: steven gerrard/xabi alonso
Prompt: 034.Not Enough (for fanfic100 & 07. Opinions (for footballslash11
Word Count: 346
Disclaimer: I don't own them. This is all a bunch of lies.
Rating: PG
Summary: AU AU AU. kjhgsfkdj drabble thing sort of related to the "Lines" series, but you don't need to read it to get this. (Steven is a writer and Xabi is an editor, they have history, but now Stevie's with Finns and Xabi just managed to manipulate Stevie into a (series of) one night stand(s).)
Author's Notes: a christening of my new LJ. (Mika, the Stevie/Fernando? on it's way. I promise.)

deviation.

05. Steven Gerrard. G.

Sun, 25 May 2008 10:18:17 GMT

Title: Changes
Characters: the boys of Liverpool, some Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso
Prompt: 028.Children for fanfic100 & 05. Grass for footballslash11
Word Count: 300! Yay.
Disclaimer: None of these events are real. All fiction.
Rating: G -___-
Summary: They’re all still children, Steven thinks.
Author's Notes: Kay, no angst about the CL. Drabble is thing (ficlet? idk, really). Comment? :D

Lovers, Steven Gerrard, PG-13.

Sat, 19 Apr 2008 07:06:38 GMT

Title: You are the only thing that makes sense, just ignore all this present tense.
Part: 1 of 2
Characters: Steven Gerrard/Fernando Torres, Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso
Prompt: 023.Lovers. (fanfic100 & 08. Lovers (footballslash11)
Word Count: 1,014
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Set after the Fulham game, Xabi needs Steven.
Author's Notes: I don’t really like the way this fic is turning out, but I was desperate to post something and I’ve edited and revised myself out. Feedback/Concrit is very, very welcome. :)

MOD POST: Community management

Thu, 24 Jan 2008 14:59:13 GMT

Being that I rarely frequent LiveJournal anymore, and that I have mostly left footie RPS fandom, I don't think it's right I should continue to manage this community -- however inactive it may have become. Who knows, maybe new blood can even revitalise it!

If you're interested in taking over the comm management, post here.

Growing - Learning (later Cristiano Ronaldo/Ruud van Nistelrooy, PG)

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 01:16:52 GMT

Title: Growing – Learning
Author: junas_stories
Pairing: later on Cristiano Ronaldo/Ruud van Nistelrooy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1713
Prompt: 07. Opinions
Disclaimer: Don't know anybody or anything and am not making any money. Sadly.
Summary: Ruud takes Cristiano under his wing.
Note: This is the second chapter of what is fast becoming a series of way too big proportions. It follows Cristiano and Ruud through their time together at United. This one is taking place just after Cristiano has arrived at United in the summer of 2003. First part aka prolog can be found here in the memories. And of course – feedback is love. :D

read the story here

Fic: Growing - First Impressions (PG, later on Cristiano Ronaldo/Ruud van Nistelrooy)

Thu, 01 Nov 2007 23:59:09 GMT

Title: Growing – First Impressions
Author: junas_stories
Pairing: later on Cristiano Ronaldo/Ruud Van Nistelrooy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 683
Prompt: 07. Opinions
Disclaimer: Don't know anybody or anything and am not making any money. Sadly.
Summary: Cristiano comes to United. (First line alludes to the practise in the United squad to tackle any newbie three-times so he knows who's the boss.)
Note: This is part one of something like a series. It was supposed to be just one long story but since I suffer from writer's block I decided to cut it up, edit and post what I have and thusly put pressure on myself. We'll see how that works. Heh.

follow the link to the entry at my writing journal
.

The Bet - part 2

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 15:44:21 GMT

TITLE: The Bet - part 2/3. (Here is the first part.)
RATING: R, I guess - for violence.
PAIRING: Francesco Totti/Pavel Nedvěd
WARNING: Very angsty. Perhaps the most "graphical" angst I did so far. Uhm. Yes.
DISCLAIMER: I don't know them, and definitely don't own them. I'm just borrowing them for a while, because I'm a worthless liar.
PROMPT: I suppose this could be 02. Home for footballslash11. The full challenge table is here.
WORD COUNT: 1532.

He opened his eyes, slowly, almost like he didn't want to wake up. At the very least, sleep had been of the heavy kind. Almost like he was passed out rather than asleep. But now, every memory from last night came back – fast, like a hard blow to the face.

The off-white wall reminded him of where he was, even before he became awere of anything else. Suddenly, the room felt too small – like it threatened to suffocate him. He needed to breathe, to get away from this place which was already all too full of memories, even though he had spent only this one night here.

There was silence now. Silence, except for Francesco's breathing, right next to him. Peaceful breathing now. Pavel couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand how it was possible to sleep like that. Not now. Not after last night.

The thought caused another wave of memories. His throat constricted, reminding him that breathing still caused pain after the strangling attempt that had started everything. Suddenly, he felt an intense hatred – for Francesco, but maybe even more for himself.

He had to get out of here.
Now.

He turned in his bed, carefully trying to get up. The movement caused sharp pain, and he choked back the sound that formed in his throat, before collapsing on the bed again. Clenching his fist around the sheet, he tried to find the strength to make another attempt at getting up. The grip around the sheet tightened for a moment, but this time he actually managed to get up, and even reach for his clothes. With careful, small movements, he put them on. One piece at a time, not caring that his shirt was ripped in places. It didn't matter, as long as it could still hide the bruises and cuts on his body.

Slowly, he tried to stand up. It took a moment to even find his balance, and he felt like he would collapse again any moment. He didn't even have the strength to stand on his feet.

Only the willpower. The one thing that couldn't be broken.

* * *

He took a couple of small steps, careful at first, then more confident when he was sure that his feet would still hold him up. There was still the same silence as before. Good. Pavel preferred it that way – he didn't feel like talking to anyone right now. Francesco least of all.

The guy behind the reception desk gave him a dirty look on the way out. Pavel turned away quickly, not wanting to meet the gaze. The look still seemed to burn against his skin, though, like another reminder of the shame he felt in that moment.

He swallowed hardly when he became aware that he was actually shaking. With an automatic motion, he pulled the jacket tighter around himself, before hiding the trembling hands in his pockets. It felt safer that way. Besides, his hand found a little piece of paper in his pocket. He clenched his fingers around it, so hard that it probably crumpled a bit, but he didn't even notice.

A plane ticket back to safety.

* * *

- Why don't you just call him if this is so incredibly important to you?

Gigi had problems with keeping his annoyance from showing in his voice. He tried to speak in a flat and sort of considerate tone, just to avoid upsetting Ale further, but it was more difficult by the minute. In his personal opinion, Ale was exaggerating to the point that it was not even funny anymore. There was just no good reason to be that worried.

«I already did. He turned off his phone, so all I get is the answer machine». Ale shrugged and tried to sound calm, but the worry was still written clearly across his face.

«Yes, of course.» Gigi couldn't keep the annoyed tone away from his voice any longer. But just a moment later, he seemed to calm down a bit, changing the topic deliberately. «You didn't sleep much last night. Try to sleep for a bit, and call him again later, okay?» he said, putting an arm around Ale's shoulders in an attempt to lead him back to bed. The sleep would be much needed, surely.

Ale accepted, half-gratefully and half-dejectedly.

* * *

Pavel didn't actually remember the flight that clearly. It felt like the last few hours had just passed by without his presence. Even at the airport, when he actually had to talk to a couple of people, he did it without focusing on the task at hand, and without remembering a word of the conversation only a moment after it had finished.

In one way, it seemed a miracle that he was home now. Miles and miles away from Rome and the memories from last night, but unfortunately only so if measured in distance – not if measured in memory intensity.

He hated the feeling of Francesco's hands against his skin already from the first moment. That much too confident, much too greedy sort of touch – giving so little, taking so much. But perhaps, he hated it even more in this moment – hated the way he felt trapped, helpless now.

The grip was harder than before, the intense panic more paralyzing than he could ever have imagined. He bit his lip against the sudden pain. First, only to brace himself against the searing agony, then a second time – so hard that he could taste blood on his tongue a moment later.

If only that had been the only blood to be drawn that night. Maybe then, he wouldn't be quite that devastated. Not quite that broken. For a moment, he just stood still with his eyes closed, trying to force himself to think about something else. But even then, the frightening pictures were still clear in his mind.

If anything, he needed a shower. And then, perhaps just a pillow and blanket, so he didn't have to look anyone in the eyes. Anymore.

* * *

The phone rang.
The sound seemed distant, and Pavel didn't care about it.

He also didn't care that the water was too hot; burning against his skin when he stood under it. At least it still didn't burn like the cuts on his body. Still fresh, even if they weren't bleeding anymore. Deep enough that there would be lasting scars, like an eternal reminder of his own stupidity, because he had accepted an unnecessary bet a while ago.

The quick blink of silver had been a surprise – such a shock that he didn't have time to truly understand the consequences. For a brief moment, he caught Francesco's eyes. The look there would have been enough to scare him, even if Francesco had not been holding a small knife between his fingers.

So full of determination. So cold, and so clearly unaffected by this whole, insane situation.

The water stung against his skin, but he didn't care. At least the sound of running water was sort of calming, sort of comforting. It would be easy, just looking up, just hiding behind that sound until he wouldn't notice anything else. Or nothing at all, after a while. But of course, courage failed him in that moment, and only the now familiar, terrified feeling remained when he turned off the water.

Just in time to hear the phone ringing in another room.
He still couldn't care less.

***

«There is no honest and fair way you could have won that award!» Francesco's voice was harder now, like he was trying to make a point and prove the truthfulness of his accusations. Pavel had heard them all before, so he didn't answer. There was just no point in arguing over this silly, several years old topic.

Francesco quickly shifted the grip on the knife in his hand, so fast that it was almost unnoticeable. However, Pavel still froze at the touch of steel against his throat. It was just a light touch, but more than enough that he could feel his body freezing and his heart beating faster.

«Tell me what you did in exchange for all those votes? How many of the judges did you sleep with? Two? Four? Say it, but I want the truth!»

The knife pressed harder against his skin as Francesco spoke, leaving a visible mark on the skin already. Just a bit more pressure now, and… Pavel couldn’t even let the thought form completely – it was too scary, too dangerous. Right then, he had the feeling that Francesco was angry beyond control.

One mistake now – and it could be the final one?

«Just two.» The lie gave him a foul taste in his mouth, tears forming in his eyes at that moment; the mental stress and physical pain finally too much for him.

He almost didn’t hear Francesco’s triumphant scream. «I knew it! Such a whore, you are!»

The memories were a blur after that; harsh words, blows to his face, a couple of long cuts on his chest. He was just barely conscious then – too broken to be able to even feel the fear anymore.

Because this was all he ever deserved.

Right?

Home - fic

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 08:55:39 GMT

Title: Home

Archive: Footballslash11

Pairing: Andrea Pirlo/Other

Disclaimer: Slash not indicative of reality

Rating: G

Author: withhook

Note: Line borrowed from Snow Patrol’s ‘Set the Fire to the Third Bar’

The map was stiff and cool in the man’s hands. Quietly, by the light of a bedside lamp, for the other occupant of the room was asleep, he laid it down on his mattress. Sleep, though it was beyond midnight, was still so far away that it was unfathomable to think of it as natural – instead it faded itself into the category of things that should pass, would pass – but hadn’t.

The air hung heavy and breathless, a rhythmic tone to the breathing of the sleeping occupant, and a desolate one to the breaths of the one who could not find even a little peace at all.

A slight stir, a rush of defeated hope…the man stared morosely through the lines, the shape of land and sea as foreign to him as the idea of rest. What he saw on the map was nothing, told nothing of the truth of the world. It struck him as odd and terribly, painfully lacking that in the business of charting paths and journeys – the art of man was still no closer to capturing the essence of the real thing than ever it had been.

Rivers, farms, state lines…

They were nothing and yet, they were everything. They were but blades of grass and markings in space, and yet, they were what separated him from his heart. He sighed again, rubbing at his tired, weary eyes and wished, caught himself on a breath of longing, that he could somehow traverse the distance, reduce it all – this paper before him, the miles and miles of world which it attempted to signify, bring it all to nothing and step, step across the divide.

He had traveled so far, and in his impatient soul was a longing. He was young, and still he was old because as he sat awake, too tired to think, too awake to dream – he could not find an ounce of peace save in one thought which both strengthened, and haunted him.

A smile, remembered, was all it took to take him back, and as one appeared slowly, sadly on his own face – he was transported many, many miles from where he sat alone and awake, and he was for but a moment, home.

Man on a Mission (01. Tacticals, Cristiano Ronaldo/Nemanja Vidic, R)

Thu, 13 Sep 2007 01:10:37 GMT

Title: Man on a Mission
Author: junas_stories
Pairing: Cristiano Ronaldo/Nemanja Vidic
Rating: erh, R?
Word Count: 898
Prompt: 01. Tactics
Disclaimer: Don't know anybody or anything and am not making any money. Sadly.
Summary: He figures, all is fair in love and – football.
Warnings: memororis told me already that this pairing is crazy; it just happened. Also, this is a weird mixture of smutty and crack. Smut on crack? Something like that. I blame those pics that've been circling around of Cristiano at the pool. They fried my brain, I'm sure. Links in the text. ;D
Feedback would be loved and appreciated and held dearly. As always.

read the story here at my writing journal
.

Would you leave me?

Mon, 10 Sep 2007 12:30:55 GMT

Losses

Title: Would you leave me?
Author: aglaiya
Rating: R for words
Warning(s): non
Pairing: Rafael Marquez/Victor Valdes
Prompt: loses
Disclaimer: nothing is real, this happens only in my mind

here at aglaiya

Guilt

Sun, 02 Sep 2007 12:24:29 GMT

So - finally I managed to type up another ficlet. This one has been dancing around in my mind for a long time already, but I just never got around to actually writing it. Zdeněk is a cunning, little heartbreaker here, though, so I hope you forgive me for writing him like that. Also, I hope you'll enjoy!

TITLE: Guilt
RATING: Probably R-ish?
CHARACTERS: Pavel Nedvěd/Zdeněk Grygera.
WARNING: Angst, but not in the way you probably think...
PROMPT: 05. Grass, for footballslash11. My challenge table can be found here.
DISCLAIMER: I don't know or own them. I'm just borrowing them for a while because I'm a worthless liar.
WORD COUNT: 1058

The grass tickled his fingers when he rested his hands almost behind his back.

Pavel had meant to come here just to practice for a bit, take his mind off the confusing thoughts and do something pleasant for a while. Usually, it helped to spend some time on the pitch – the bodily exhaustion would help him relieve mental stress. Not this time, though. He had only been here for a few moments when he realized that he couldn't stay focused on his training.

In the end, he just sat down in the grass. First, embracing his knees with his arms, then putting his hands behind him, absent-mindedly picking at a few strands of grass while going over the events from earlier that night in his mind for the umpteenth time.

«Aren't you going to come inside for a bit?»

Zdeněk had smiled, almost laughed when he asked. Almost like he expected a «no». Fake expectations, of course – no one in their right mind could refuse such an innocent invite. Not from him. Not when he was smiling like that. So, Pavel had accepted – almost without thinking, and definitely without any plans other than to go inside and talk for a bit longer. Besides, that was already more than he had planned. He had only meant to drive Zdeněk home – only because of the heavy rain, and possibly because they had a good conversation earlier, and the same, nice tone between them as always before.

Only that. Nothing more. He definitely never meant it to come to this, and couldn't even point at the exact moment when things started to go wrong.

Perhaps when he had accepted the glass of red wine, though? He remembered it very clearly – Zdeněk's remark about how it wouldn't be nice of him to invite people inside if he didn't give them at least something to drink. Then, that little half-smile again, and a slightly nervous tone to his voice when he continued.

«Unfortunately, this is all I have. I know it's not much, but don't say no – please?»

Of course, Pavel couldn't refuse. Maybe he wouldn't have done so anyway, but in that moment it was just impossible to do anything else than to accept. Besides - one glass of wine couldn't hurt. It couldn't be that dangerous, right? Well, at least if it wasn't for the fact that Zdeněk stood almost dangerously close for a moment when he had poured the wine in their glasses. Pavel wasn't sure if that was deliberate or not. However, he was very aware that he could have moved away a bit – it wouldn't have been unnatural. But – he had not done so, and he still couldn't quite explain why. Maybe it was the way their eyes met in just that moment – just briefly, but long enough for him to notice the little sparkle in Zdeněk's eyes.

It was one of those moments when he just didn't think. Why on earth hadn't he taken that as a warning?

The thought annoyed him, and he got to his feet just to walk along the sideline for a bit, as if walking would help in sorting his thoughts out more easily. However, he noticed neither where he walked nor the fact that the rain made his clothes stick to his body. After pacing up and down for a few moments, he just sat back down in the grass on the opposite side of the pitch from where he started just a few moments before. The wet grass would leave stains on his clothes, but he didn't care. In fact, he didn't even notice it when he automatically embraced himself with his arms because it was getting cold. Somehow, the pictures from earlier that night were clearer in his mind than what was happening in the present moment.

The memories still gave him a strange tingle in his body – an almost scary feeling, so unlike his reactions earlier.

Neither one of them moved away, despite the fact that they were probably both aware of being too close to each other. It felt almost natural, after the first moment of inital surprise. However, Pavel was still a bit confused about just how they ended up kissing right there, on the couch. He knew that at one point, he had moved a bit just to put his glass down on the table. When he leaned back, he did so against Zdeněk's arm. That position felt surprisingly comfortable, and he remembered how they almost laughed at each other – just the sweet kind of laugh, not the cautious, uncomfortable one.

The quick, soft peck on the lips that followed felt like a natural turn of events, too. However, Pavel had not meant to kiss back quite that intensely. He should have realized in that moment that this was dangerous, and should have broken the kiss at once instead of allowing Zdeněk to deepen it. Perhaps it began with an innocent kiss, just on the lips, but it certainly didn't end that way. When they broke the kiss, it wasn't with the same, soft and nervous laugh as before. In that moment, Pavel certainly didn't mind that Zdeněk's hand was slid inside his shirt, and didn't pay attention to the lust in the younger man's eyes. The touch felt hot against his skin, but the sharp and suddenly very clear feeling of shame and guilt hit him hard when he realized what they were doing.

He couldn't go through with this. At least not yet. Still – the way Zdeněk looked at him when he pulled away hurt more than anything else. He couldn't forget the dissappointed look in those hazed eyes, and couldn't explain anything in that moment. Nothing, except the few words he managed to whisper before he left.

«Please, forgive me? I...,» his voice broke and he had to swallow before finishing the sentence. «...I...We can't do this.»

Then, he had left. However, he was still not sure it had been the right choice.

He got up, slowly, suddenly too cold to stay here anymore. A couple of wet strands of grass still clung to his skin, but it didn't matter. He could always remove them, wash them off when he got home.

If it had only been that easy to deal with this new sense of guilt, and desire, too.

The Bet - part 1

Sat, 18 Aug 2007 13:26:43 GMT

So, this is a two-part fic. The second part will be for one of the other prompts, so I hope that's fine? I wanted to wait until I could post both parts here at the same time, but it seems to be taking too long for me to finish the other fic. So, I decided to post this part now instead. Hope you'll enjoy!

TITLE: The Bet - part 1.
RATING: R, I guess - for violence, mostly.
PAIRING: Francesco Totti/Pavel Nedvěd
WARNING: Very angsty.
DISCLAIMER: I don't know them, and definitely don't own them. I'm just borrowing them for a while, because I'm a worthless liar.
PROMPT: I suppose this could be for 11. Losses for footballslash11.
WORD COUNT: 1604.

( Fake cut to my journal )

Claim finished? Post here!

Sat, 18 Aug 2007 12:33:53 GMT

Hall of Fame

You have finished all eleven prompts and thus completed your claim? You comment here with a link to your prompt table and your awesome will be acknowledged in sparkly text.

Famous finishers:

saint_kat PROOF (claim Petr Čech, fics to be found here)

MOD POST: Dropped and finished claims

Sat, 18 Aug 2007 12:13:31 GMT

There are three ways a claim can become available again:

A participant has finished all eleven prompts of her claim;
A participant has dropped her claim;
A participant's journal has been deleted.

Hall of Fame-post for completed tables; List of Claims-post where claims can be dropped.

This post will be updated with claims that have become available for whatever reason

Alessandro Nesta
The German national team
Andriy Shevchenko
Petr Čech [original claim completed]

About Love and Fear

Fri, 10 Aug 2007 17:52:48 GMT

Opinions

Title: About Love and Fear
Author: aglaiya
Rating: R ?
Warning(s): non
Pairing: Rafael Marquez/Victor Valdes
Prompt: opinions
Disclaimer: nothing is real, this happens only in my mind

Mistakes are my own and comments are love.

About Love and Fear at aglaiya

Teammates, Steven Gerrard, PG-13

Fri, 20 Jul 2007 13:05:44 GMT

Title: Teammates
Characters: Steven Gerrard, Jamie Carragher, Xabi Alonso implied: Xabi Alonso/Fernando Torres
Prompt: Teammates
Rating: PG-13. :)
Warnings: Swear words, I guess.
A/N: wrote this during Biology period. Hee. First time writing them with accents. :) OH! And first funny fic. Kind of. Bit choppy on some parts, feedback please!
~

Their lips met, their bodies pressed against each other. Xabi’s hand slid up, under his black training jacket, then his hand moved to his chest to tweak a nipp—
“Kinda weird, innit?” Carra laughed as he hit stevie’s back in a friendly manner. Stevie grunted and moved to left on the bench, allowing Carra to sit beside him. Xabi seemed a bit shy to do something as audacious as snogging in public. Fernando Torres though… well, this being based on first-impression-judgments. That or they just didn’t know anyone was watching.
Looking.
Whatever. No one really could unless you really really meant to seek out teammates making out by the benches, which no one really did, anyway. On Fridays, at least.
And today was such a day, a Friday, and everyone went home pretty quickly to get some things done before Pepe’s pre-premiership-party (which he never had) so it was just a cover-up for what it really was, which was a let’s-get-fernando-fucking-torres-drunk-like-fuck-tonight-party.
From what Steven was seeing, it looked like Fernando didn’t need to get drunk as a donkey to experience a LOT of fun.
Err. Right.
Shut up inner voice.
Carra checked his watch.
“Maybe we should give ‘em a head’s up tha’ Rafa’ll be comin’, yeah?”
Stevie nodded. “You do it.”
Carra’s face contorted.
“Wha? Why me?”
“Why not you?”
“You should do it.”
“Why me?”
“I dunno, maybe ‘cause you’re fookin CAPTAIN?”
“Well you’re the vice-cap’ain, aren’t ye? ‘sides. You came up with tha’ idea.”
“Christ.” Carra sighed.
“O come on Carra, ye’ll be alrigh’, they’re jus’ a couple o’ snoggin’ teammates, s’all.”
“Let’s just go and leave them alone.” Carra started to stand up.
“No! come on, Carra, just do it!” Stevie laughed and pulled carra back to the bench by pulling on his shirt.
“Oh sod off Gerrard.”
“Come on Carra, what, ye scared?”
“What the hell is there to be scared of?”
“Do it Carra, come on!”
“Alright fine I’ll fookin do it already, jesus. You’re acting like a whiny girl.”
“Yeah! Tha’s the spirit.”
Carra rolled his eyes and stood up, took a few tentative steps forward and then turned back abruptly.
“Errr. What do I say?”
Stevie laughed. “I dunno, ehm, maybe tha’ Rafa’s comin’ and he’ll ‘ave their heads if he sees ‘em?”
“No. Way.”
“Maybe tha’ they should get a room?”
“Sod off. You’re no ‘elp.”
Stevie laughed. “Well, go on!”
“Alright! Christ…”
Carra continued to mutter angrily as he crossed the field.
~
TBC!

i honestly didn't want to post this until i was done typing (i have the whole thing already, but on paper. :| ) but problems arose.

please do comment! :D

There is a Difference

Tue, 19 Jun 2007 17:49:40 GMT

Halves

Title: There is a Difference
Author: aglaiya
Rating: R
Warning(s): non
Pairing: Rafael Marquez/Victor Valdes
Prompt: halves
Disclaimer: nothing is real, this happens only in my mind

Mistakes are my own and comments are love.

There is a Difference at aglaiya

We needed the defeat (#11-Losses, Steve Finnan, PG)

Mon, 18 Jun 2007 06:06:47 GMT

Title: We Needed The Defeat
Pairing: SteveFinnan(/DanielAgger)
Claim: Steve Finnan
Prompt: #11 - Losses
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: fiction

Fic here.

Pillow Talk (08. Lovers, Cristiano Ronaldo/Wayne Rooney, R)

Sun, 17 Jun 2007 21:37:31 GMT

Title: Pillow Talk
Author: junas_stories
Pairing: Cristiano Ronaldo/Wayne Rooney
Rating: R
Word Count: 1397
Prompt: 08. Lovers
Disclaimer: Don't know anybody or anything and am not making any money. Sadly.
Summary: Wayne and Cristiano have a heart-to-heart…of sorts.
Notes: As always, feedback is very much appreciated.

fake-cut to my journal
.

#3 - halves, Steve Finnan, G

Fri, 15 Jun 2007 07:22:31 GMT

Title: He takes me out of my shell
Author: cill_dara
Rating: G
Warning(s): none
Pairing: SteveFinnan(/DanielAgger)
Prompt: #3 - halves
Disclaimer: fiction

Fic here.

Two

Thu, 14 Jun 2007 10:01:50 GMT

There was a picture... here

Lovers

Title: Two
Author: aglaiya
Rating: R one word
Warning(s): one word
Pairing: Rafael Marquez/Victor Valdes
Prompt: lovers
Disclaimer: nothing is real, this happens only in my mind

Mistakes are my own and comments are love.

Two at aglaiya

Home, Steve Finnan, G

Tue, 12 Jun 2007 20:03:12 GMT

Title: Home is...what you are.
Author: cill_dara
Rating: G
Warning(s): none.
Pairing: SteveFinnan(/DanielAgger)
Prompt: #2 Home
Disclaimer: pure fiction.

Fic here.

National Team, Steven Gerrard, PG

Tue, 12 Jun 2007 11:55:49 GMT

Title: Roomies.
Author: nadi_wamos, Nadine.
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Steven Gerrard/Frank Lampard, Steven Gerrard/John Terry
Prompt: National Team
Disclaimer: Lies. lies!
Summary: Set during England-Estonia game.
Prompt Table: Here

“Who are you rooming with?” JT asked.
“Frank. You?”
“David.”
“I can’t believe we’re not rooming together.” Stevie grumbled as they got on the elevator.
“We’ll only be here for 3 days,” JT reasoned.
“Yeah? Well after that I gotta go back to Anfield. And you have to go back to Stamford Bridge.” Stevie said, pressing their floor.
“Oh come on, it’s not like we wont find time between that…” JT winked.
“No. not the bathroom. I specifically remember saying ‘Never again’,”
“Ah but you did have fun!”
“No, I never said that.”
“You certainly implied it, Stevie.” JT laughed.
“Wanker.”
“Oh loosen up Stevie.”
“Come on, I was really looking forward to this!” Stevie leaned against the cool steel wall of the elevator.
“Well we could do this…” JT smirked, and walked nearer to Stevie.
“Not here JT,” Stevie warned, backing into the corner.
“Why not?” JT wrapped his arm around Stevie’s waist.
“Because someone could—” Stevie was silenced by his captain’s mouth.
JT’s hands traveled up Stevie’s back when they heard the distinct ‘ding’ which signaled their arrival on their floor.
They immediately pulled away, Stevie being the first to step out of the elevator.
“Maybe we could take the ride down?” JT laughed, knowing that that was the most alone time they could have.
Stevie rolled his eyes and turned the knob to his room.
“I’ll see you at dinner, okay?” JT said, and stepped into his room, which was before Stevie’s.
“Mmhmm.” Stevie said, and shut the door.
~
Stevie rubbed his eyes as he stepped inside the elevator after dinner.
Some of the boys stayed behind for a few drinks in the hotel bar.
Stevie leaned on the wall of the elevator as the doors started to close.
“Hold the door!” came Frank’s voice, and Stevie immediately pressed the ‘open’ button.
Frank stepped in. “Thanks,”
“Not like I had a choice,” Stevie grinned.
“Yea,” Frank laughed, leaning on the opposite wall.
The elevator ride was silent, but not awkward. Well, not for Stevie at least.
The elevator landed on their floor and they both stepped out, frank being the one to put in the key and open the door to their room.
Frank plopped down on the bed and turned on the TV.
Stevie got his sweat pants and headed into the shower.
~
Stevie, finished with his shower, stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, being considerate to Frank.
It was already 10:30.
“I’m done,” Stevie announced.
“Yeah.” Frank said, and then he started laughing.
“What?”
“Fucking 5 star hotel and you can still hear the people next door fucking.” Frank shook his head and started rummaging through his bag.
“Where’s it---“
Frank pointed to the room before theirs. John’s room.
“Oh.”
Stevie would’ve dropped all his bags and started fell to the floor crying, but of course he didn’t.
“You alright?” Frank queried, noticing Steven’s sudden stop of movement.
“Yeah.”
Frank nodded his head with an arched eyebrow.
As soon as Stevie heard the click of the door to the bathroom, he sat down on his bed, biting his lip.
He could still hear them.
Stevie sat there for five minutes, his breathing even, and his eyes blank.
He heard the shower turn off, and then he stood up, still with a towel wrapped around his hips.
He knocked twice on the door, and Frank opened it, clad just like Stevie, with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Yeah?” Stevie responded by pushing him against the wall and capturing Frank’s lip in a searing kiss.
Frank reluctantly pulled away.
“Stevie, what are you… I thought you and—“
“Just… just do this, for me, okay frank?”
Frank nodded his head and Stevie once again, pressed his lips against his.

comments, yes?
sorry for making JT seem like such a slut. i couldn't help it. heeh.

Wins, Steven Gerrard, PG

Tue, 12 Jun 2007 10:44:12 GMT

Title: Wins
Author: nadi_wamos, Nadine.
Rating: PG
Pairing/s: Steven Gerrard/John Terry, implied Steven Gerrard/Xabi Alonso
Prompt: Wins
Disclaimer: I don't own them. never will, sadly.
Summary: Stevie wants to know what to say.
A/N: Had this plot bunny since the and leg of the UCL in Anfield. Sorry if it’s ~~a bit~~ late.
Prompt Table: Here

Steven Gerrard wishes he knew a lot of things.
He wishes he knew why Liverpool won the semi finals against Chelsea,
Or why he was holding John Terry, not Xabi Alonso in his arms.
Or why he even wanted Xabi Alonso on his arms.
Or why he was so fucked in the head to even have or want a BOY in his arms. In that way.
And most of all, Steven Gerrard wishes he knew what to say.
There he was, in front of his house, hugging John Terry, his rival on the field mere hours ago.
"John—"
He heard a sniffle.
“Fuck Stevie, I’m sorry,” John pulled away.
“No, no, it’s alright JT,” Stevie said, noticing John’s bloodshot eyes and slumped figure. “You want to come in for something to drink?” He asked.
John nodded his head limply.
Stevie had decided against any kind of alcoholic drink (for obvious reasons) for JT.
So he settled for tea.
“Uhm, here.” Stevie said awkwardly. He handed JT a mug of tea, because cups didn’t serve well in situations like this.
“Thanks mate,” John took it with a slight nod.
Stevie sat down across John.
“So are we just going to drink tea?” He asked quietly, not wanting to sound too mean.
“S’pose that would be no good,” John said, and sipped his tea.
An awkward silence followed.
Stevie really wishes he was better with words right now, because he can almost hear the tea slide down his throat.
“John?” Stevie prodded.
“Sorry, it’s just…” JT trailed off.
John looked at Stevie as if he had all the answers.
He looked at Stevie, wishing that he could say something.
But Stevie didn’t. Instead, he leaned closer to John, and let their lips touch.
Stevie set his mug down on the coffee table, and he put his hands on either side of John’s face.
They looked at each other, long and hard, and Stevie pressed his lips to John’s again, softly.
“You can tell me anything,” Stevie whispered, dropping his hands to John’s shoulders.
“It’s just that… I wish we won…”John closed his eyes, half expecting Stevie to hit him for wishing that Liverpool lost.
Stevie laughed. “We all wish that. But someone needs to lose, JT.”
John looked at Stevie and set down his mug.
“I know.”
“So why are, I mean, why were you crying?”
“Wouldn’t you cry if you lost? Knowing perfectly that someone needed to win?”
“I guess…” Stevie bit his lip.
John smirked.
“I’m sorry! I just don’t know what the fuck to say.” Stevie muttered.
John laughed this time.
“I don’t think I would know what to say if you were on my doorstep crying.”
“Yeah you would. You always do. You’re fucking captain.”
“Well, so are you.”
“But you always know what to say, to people who are sad or whatever.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
A silence.
“Not.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
“Sure about that, JT?”
John smirked defiantly.
“What are you going to do?”
“Shut you up,” Stevie grinned, and pinned JT on to the carpeted floor.
“I can still talk, you know.” John said.
“That'll change pretty soon.” Stevie chuckled, and pressed his lips to John’s for the third time that night, and probably not the last time, either.

comment, please. :D