Soccer/Football Imagines

Bastian Schweinsteiger [~] Unknown Son

You sat at home, fuming when you looked at the time on the clock. This was the third time this week that he had arrived home later than he told you, by a couple hours. Normally, this wouldn't piss you off but tonight was important. He was supposed to pick you up and take you to couples therapy. You two had hit a rough patch lately because you were both so busy and never had time for each other anymore. Combined with the fact that every time you two did talk, you argued about the smallest things, pushed you to make the appointment. This had been the last straw for you.

Twenty minutes later, you could here the sound of keys jingling before the front door to your shared home was opened. Bastian walked inside, looking nonchalant about the fact that he had caused the both of you to miss therapy. He didn't notice your presence or chose to ignore it because instead of walking over to you to apologize, he walked straight into the kitchen. Typical. You stood up and walked over to the man you thought you had loved for the past four years. But now, you weren't so sure. "Where were you?" you asked, arms crossed over your chest.

He turned around to look at you. "I had training then we all went out to dinner together," he said, missing the point as to why you were angry.

"Do you remember what today is?" you questioned.

"Uh . . . Tuesday, why?"

"You were supposed to pick me up after training and take the both of us to couples therapy," you reminded him, your anger boiling.

"I told you, (Y/N) we don't need to go talk to some therapy guy about our problems."

"Did you deliberately miss the appointment?" you seethed.

"No, but I still don't think we need to lay out our problems to this guy. He's probably a wacko," Bastian replied.

"Is this relationship a joke to you?"

"Why the hell would you ask that?" Bastian fired back. "Of course not."

"Well start acting like it!"

"You should freaking talk! All you've been is moody and grumpy theses last few months! You just complain and whine and yell at me, that's all you freaking do!" Bastian shouted.

"All you do is run around with your friends when you're not practicing doing drinking games! Don't tell me I'm not trying here! You on the other hand seem to like your beer more than me lately!"

"Well I can say that about your obsession with the freaking ice cream! I bought some two days ago and it's gone!"

"Are you calling me fat?!" The argument went on from there, getting more intense by the minute. You had finally had enough of him. "How about I just leave, huh? Would you like that?!"

"Sure, pack your stuff and leave! Don't ever come back!" he shouted back. You ran upstairs to your once shared bedroom and threw all of your belongings into two suitcases.

"Have a nice freaking life, you asshole! This relationship is over!" you screamed at him. Throwing your keys to the house at him, you slammed the door and you were officially out of Bastian Schweinsteiger's life. That had been almost three years ago. You had moved away from Bastian and had bought a small apartment in the outskirts of a city. You had gotten a job as a journalist for the German branch of FIFA Football Magazine (made up). You enjoyed your job, especially after you found out that you could work from home.

This normally wouldn't have been in your preference list until you found out that you were pregnant. It was Bastian's, there was no doubt. He was the only guy you had ever been intimate with, and therefore the only father candidate. You didn't want to tell Bastian, you didn't want to tell anyone who the father of your baby was. When people asked you, you simply told them that the father hadn't wanted a part in your life and therefore not a part in your child's life, even if you knew it was a lie.