Soccer/Football Imagines (Part 2)

Pick Your Player [~] Devastating Loss

A.N. Was going to finish other one shots but after the last few days of European football with the Champions and Europa Leagues, I was inspired and got a little (a lot) carried away with this one. Suggestions are still open if anyone was wondering.

Also,

(Y/S-I-L/N): your sister-in-law's name

(Y/B/N): your brother's name

(Y/P/N): your partner/player's name

You hung your head low as the final whistle blew. The opposition fans went wild as the opposing team started jumping and celebrating around the pitch. You pursed your lips as you stared at your distraught boyfriend, who just stood in the middle of the pitch, a broken look on his face. You sighed, placing your head in your hands. You knew how much this game meant to them, especially your boyfriend. The news headlines and pundits were continuing to criticize him, and his teammates and you knew he was sick of it.

Quietly making your way down to the dressing room with the other wives and girlfriends, you waited patiently for him to walk in with his teammates. The atmosphere was tense as you talked with a girlfriend of one of your boyfriend's teammates. "He always gets in a mood after a loss, especially one like this," she sighed, referring to her own footballer boyfriend.

"I know what you mean," you replied, knowing that your boyfriend also got into moods after a loss. This loss was particularly painful, and you knew that it was going to be a long night. One by one, your boyfriend's heartbroken teammates trickled through, collecting their families and continuing on their way out without more than a sentence. You sighed, mentally preparing yourself for your boyfriend's reaction to the loss.

He finally emerged, hair wet from a shower, and a hard look on his face. "Hey," you called quietly, approaching silently. "Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" he scoffed, his jaw slightly clenching. Holding out his hand for the keys, you handed them over before walking with him out to the car. Getting in silently, you debated trying to start a conversation again or not. Sometimes, it was best to leave him alone, but other times you knew he just wanted to get the frustration out of his system.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked, glancing up at him with a worried look on your face as he drove through the city streets.

"No," he stated, his voice firm. You sighed quietly and stared out the window. So, it was one of those moods, you guessed. You remained silent for the rest of the ride to your shared home, though you noticed how his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, the veins on his arms becoming visible. You arrived home shortly afterwards, not missing how he shut the door roughly behind him.

You smiled as your dog ran over, his tail wagging. "Hey, buddy," you cooed, kneeling down to give him a good rub as your boyfriend walked silently around you. Your dog followed after him, nudging him for attention.

"Not right now, buddy," he muttered, plopping onto the couch. You stood up slowly, biting your lip.

"Do you want anything to eat? I think I'll make some—"

"—I'm not hungry," he replied shortly, making you look to the floor. You were growing increasingly annoyed with his behavior, but you knew he wasn't acting like himself. This wasn't your normal loving boyfriend. This was your boyfriend who just lost an important match. The two seemed like polar opposites to you.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? It might be better to just get it out rather than bottling it all up," you suggested, sitting on the couch next to him.

"What do you want me to say, (Y/N)? We played like shit. I played like shit. It was fucking disgraceful football. Is that what you want to talk about?" he snapped, causing your dog to jump lightly.