WE BURN BLUE | COLE PALMER X READER

WE BURN BLUE | COLE PALMER X READER

Summary: You are Pep Guardiola’s daughter, having worked as a media girl for Man City the next checkpoint of your career is the Euros. Meant to be the time of your life, a certain Chelsea players past mistakes catch up to him as he longs for a second chance. Drunken mistakes or happy accidents lead you to explore the idea of “what could’ve been” but the journey there certainly isn’t an easy one.

* This is an enemies to lovers fanfic and part 1/3 🌃

🧊🍾⭐️🌠🌛⚽️

2 weeks before the first game of the euros was set to kick off, you're relaxing in your Kensington town house, suddenly stopping.

"You're taking the mick, right?"

Your voice laced with disbelief and rage as you began to pace around your cluttered bedroom, the phone pressed tightly to your ear. Jordan Pickford's news about Cole Palmer making the Euros squad felt like a punch to the gut. There was no denying Palmers talent, yet his presence was unbearable.

"Palmer? That pri-"

"Alright, Y/N, don't get too worked up. I'd rather you not risk your job again," Jordan interrupted, his chuckle crackling through the line, finding amusement in your one-sided feud.

You huffed, throwing yourself onto the bed, surrounded by a sea of dresses, miniskirts, and red-bottom heels. Maybe Jordan was right. Maybe you were being too hard on Palmer. Maybe you should forgive. Yet, on the other hand, maybe Palmer should grow some balls and finally apologize for his sleazy tweet:

"Y/N Guardiola as the new Man City media girl? Thank Christ I moved to Chelsea. Dealing with THAT feisty thing every day would've been a nightmare!"

"Y/N, he was young and angry about your dad sacking him. Come on, try living in his shoes," Jordan said, almost reading your thoughts.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I'd fit into size 4s. Although, it explains a LOT. You know what they say about small feet!"

You both shared a laugh before he left you to your thoughts, heading off to dinner. As the laughter faded, you looked around at the chaotic state of your room. It was hard to imagine such a large space being so cluttered. If England's victory didn't come home, you at least wanted to come home with some drunken memories.

You sighed, pushing yourself off the bed. You'd just picked up your Chanel dresses from the dry cleaners-being young, pretty, and a media girl had its perks-before driving over to your dad's house. Set to fly out tomorrow morning.

Navigating through the busy streets, your mind drifted back to Palmer. He had been the star of your most embarrassing work incident, and you couldn't quite shake the bitterness. Yet, there was a part of you which anticipated seeing him again, your lust for revenge, or maybe your lust for him...

Arriving at your dad's sprawling estate, you were greeted by the familiar scent of jasmine and the sound of old jazz records. He was waiting for you in the living room, a warm smile on his face.

"Y/N, ready for your big adventure?" he asked, hugging you tightly.

"Absolutely" You gleamed.

"I'm proud of you sweetheart" he softly said in your ear, holding you close.

You woke up early the next morning, the London sky just beginning to lighten. With a deep breath, you grabbed your suitcase and headed to the airport. As the plane took off, you looked out the window, the city shrinking below you.

.⭐️.

DENMARK VS ENGLAND 06/07/2024

"3...2…1... Y/N, you're on air. Best of luck, princesa!"

Taking a deep breath, you flashed a dazzling smile at the camera. "Hallo, viewers! England's first match, and I am buzzing! I feel the patriotism rushing through my blood, and my fingers will be crossed the entire 90 minutes. I can see Starboy Bellingham over in the corner warming up, and I think all of us are really hoping for that talented magic to shine through...”

You expertly transitioned through the segment, your excitement palpable as you discussed the team's chances, key players to watch, and the electric atmosphere in the stadium. Millions of viewers at home were captivated by your enthusiasm and knowledge, but one pair of eyes simply couldn't look away.

Cole Palmer watched you from the sidelines, hidden from the cameras. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the screen showing your live broadcast. Despite the bitter history between you two, he couldn't deny the magnetism you exuded on air. He saw the passion in your eyes, the genuine love for the game that mirrored his own.

As you continued your segment, you interviewed fans, shared fun facts, and even managed to get a quick word from some of the players warming, your charisma unavoidable, reminding everyone why you were one of the top media personalities in the sport.

"Back to you in the studio," you concluded, maintaining your bright smile until the red light on the camera went off.

You let out a sigh of relief, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away. Your manager gave you an approving nod, and you felt a rush of satisfaction. As you walked off the set, you caught a glimpse of Palmer on the monitor, sitting on the bench. His eyes met the camera for a split second, and you could have sworn he was looking directly at you.

The moment passed quickly, and you shook your head, focusing on your next task. Little did you know that fleeting connection had stirred something in Palmer. Despite his grudge and the complicated history, he found himself admiring your poise and determination. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to let go of the past.

COLE PALMERS POV

Southgate's got me as a bench warmer what an absolute twat

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair, and his thoughts drifted to you. Unapologetically, he stared at you, he remembered the petty arguments, the shady tweets, and your offhand comments, your hair, your tanned legs... He shook his head, trying to snap out of it.

Fuck how am I supposed to cope with all this

You're gorgeous, no denying that, and Palmer couldn't decide what was worse: not being able to play on the pitch or not being able to have you in his arms.

He thought back to his earlier days, the lack of media training that had been detrimental to any chance he had with you. He winced at the memory of his tweet about you, a reckless attempt to save face that had backfired spectacularly. But he was a footballer, not a politician. How was he supposed to know the weight of his words?

He sighed, his eyes following the ball as it moved across the field. Why did everything have to be so complicated. He missed the simplicity of just playing football, before all the drama, before you. He missed the days when he didn't have to worry about how his words might affect someone he cared about.

Southgate's voice brought him back to reality, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you. He wondered what you were doing right now, if you were thinking about him at all. He wondered if there was any chance you could forgive him, if he could ever make things right.

But he couldn't say sorry, he tried to bring himself to before, but pride is a deadly sin and the devil found Cole to be its easiest prey.

Y/Ns PERSPECTIVE

The final whistle blew, and you could hardly believe it. Your mascara was threatening to smudge your cheeks, but you didn't care. They did it. They bloody won. Palmer had managed to score the equalizer in the 43rd minute, and without thinking, you found yourself shouting his name with unrestrained joy.

Now, however, the euphoria was fading, and your professional demeanour returned.

"C'mon girl, go get those interviews," your manager urged, giving you a gentle nudge onto the pitch.

You took a deep breath, straightened your posture, and stepped into your element. This was your home, your comfort zone. As you moved through the crowd of England players celebrating, you spotted Conor Gallagher heading your way.

"Ello darlin', looking for some media bait?" he winked, clearly pleased with his own joke.

Stay calm, Y/N. This is your job. He'll be gone in a couple of minutes. Give them something for social media.

"I guess I am," you replied, sizing him up with a smirk.

Ew.

"Tell me about tonight's game, Mr. Gallagher."

"Oh, I am thrilled! My Chelsea boy Palmer is a living legend! It's coming home!" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious.

You couldn't help but laugh. There was something undeniably charming about his excitement.

"I sure hope it does! And how do you plan on celebrating?"

"Oh, you know, the German way-plenty of beers," he laughed, "and who knows, maybe a lucky lady will accompany me back to my room tonight," he added slyly, his hand sliding down your hip.

You felt your temper flare but kept your cool. The camera panned away just in time, but the mic was still on.

"Hands off, you twat!"

Shit should've taken Pickford's warning about not risking your job seriously.

You weren't in the mood to party. Anxiety about your manager's reaction tomorrow clouded your thoughts, so you headed back to the hotel. The clock read quarter past nine when you made your way to the bar.

"Extra dry martini, please. Put it on the room, number 20."

Back in your room, you slipped off your heels and headed for a shower. Phone charging. Face mask on. All you wanted was sleep.

Ping!

The white light of a Twitter notification lit up the room.

Curiosity got the better of you, and you opened the app to see what Palmer had tweeted, most likely in a drunken state.

Unbeknownst to you he was sat at the Watergate cub, money, drinks and girls all around him and yet he cant enjoy it. He hates that he cant enjoy it. He hates you because its your fault. You're on his mind.

"Hiii starboyyyy" Girls slurred as they meshed their bodies onto his, however his hands stay firmly on his thighs. The last few months he has been sleeping alone and seemingly tonight won't change that.

He watches Gallagher and his blood fumes, why did he grab you, why did he touch you, why did Palmer care?

He reaches for his phone. Bad idea. He opens twitter. Bad idea. He types....

'Gallagher really is a t wat'

Two wrongs don't make a right, but Palmer didn't know any better.

This would be all over the media by morning and his PR team would scramble to clean it up.

Back in the hotel you lay under a thin duvet, you felt a strange sense of satisfaction and slowly drifted off to sleep, a small smile playing on your lips.

.

Palmer never failed to surprise you for better or worse.

⭐️

please do literally anything with cole palmer i love ur writing!!

A LESSON IN SLANG - COLE PALMER

You learn english slang words by the one and only Cole Palmer

Cole Palmer x interviewer! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

As I stand in front of the camera, microphone in hand, I can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. I've already chatted with a few Chelsea players, and now it’s Cole's turn.

He strides into the frame with an easy confidence, his casual yet sharp style complementing his relaxed demeanor. His signature grin instantly puts me at ease.

"Alright, Cole, ready for this?" I ask, trying to sound as composed as I can.

"Born ready," he replies smoothly, leaning slightly towards me as if sharing a secret.

We dive into the usual questions—how he’s finding the season so far, any memorable moments on the pitch, and who he thinks has the best banter in the locker room.

The conversation flows effortlessly until he suddenly uses a phrase that makes me pause.

"Yeah, so we were having a right laugh, proper banter, and then the gaffer comes over, tells us to stop faffin' about," he says with a chuckle.

I blink, tilting my head slightly. “Wait, um… ‘faffin' about’?” I repeat, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Cole’s grin widens, clearly enjoying my puzzled expression. “Oh, yeah, sorry. ‘Faffin' about’ just means messing around, not really doing anything productive.”

I nod slowly, trying to commit the new phrase to memory. “Got it. And what was the other one? ‘Gaffer’?”

“Ah, that’s just the boss or the coach,” he explains, his tone warm and patient.

I laugh softly, feeling a bit self-conscious about not knowing the terms. “I’m learning so much today.”

Cole chuckles, his eyes softening as he looks at me. “You’re cute, you know that? The way you get all curious and wide-eyed when you don’t know something. It’s like watching someone discover a whole new world.”

My cheeks flush at his words, and I quickly look down at my notes, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “I just want to make sure I get everything right.”

“And you are,” he assures me, his voice sincere. “Plus, I’d be happy to explain anything you’re curious about.”

I glance up, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the interview feels less like work and more like a casual, friendly conversation. “Thanks, Cole. I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a playful wink, he adds, “Anytime, love. Now, what else do you want to know?”

Oh i am LOSING it

Oh the Deadpool tag is trending? I wonder why—

… oh

i need to be logan howlett's controversial young girlfriend

caught on film. cp20

pairing: you x cole palmer

summery: you’re a famous retired footballers daughter and have been dating cole for a few months. the media hasn’t caught on to your relationship just yet but your appearance at the euros final in a certain players shirt causes quite the stir.

word count: 2114

authors note: idk

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.

You’re not exactly sure what you did in your past life to end up here, in this beautiful grand hotel in central Berlin. Despite your luxurious lifestyle, being born with a silver spoon in your mouth and having everything you ever wanted, you never took a single thing for granted. The hotel foyer is vast and grand, great marble columns dwarfing everyone in sight and traditional historic paintings in huge gold frames hanging on every wall. It’s beautiful. You stay in these kinds of hotels regularly but they never cease to amaze you. Your family PA is checking you and your family into the hotel as the several concierges begin collecting your luggage. You smile warmly at them and thank them before the manager greets you to show you to your suites. As soon as you enter your room you lay flat out on the bed, exhausted from your day travelling. You’d been flying back and forth from the UK to Germany for the last month. Any major footballing tournaments were a big deal in your family, you’ve been to pretty much every one since you were born. You can remember being a small child, wearing a shirt with your father’s name and number on the back and feeling so proud every time he stepped on the pitch. However now, things were a bit different. Your family were now invited as special guests and given all the best treatment, a private box in the stands where members of staff would meet your every need. You did truly feel blessed and very appreciative for everything your parents had done for you and your siblings.

You pull your phone out from your trouser pocket and check for any messages. Nothing. You bite your lip and open up iMessage and clicking on Cole’s name. You had been dating Cole for about six months. Things were going very well for the two of you, your parents loved him, especially your dad who was amazed by his talent on the pitch. You’d initially met him when he played at Manchester City after being invited to watch an U21’s match. You loved his laid back style and calm manor when he was playing. You smile as you remember the first time you spoke to him, all sweaty after the game. You’d gone down with your dad to congratulate the boys on their win and chatted with them. You swear you’d fallen for him right then and there, not being able to get his stupid grin out of your head. You begin typing a message to him when your younger sister walked into your room, plopping herself next to you on the bed. “You texting Cole?” She asks, a smirk on her face. She loved to wind you up about your relationship with the football player, often saying that the pair of you made her feel sick. You roll your eyes before replying, “Yeah, I’m gonna see what he’s doing after training.” You type out the message, “I know ur probably training rn but what are u doing tonight? I wanna see youuuu.’

You place your phone down on the bed and lay back, resting your head on the soft pillows. “Are you nervous about tomorrow? I hope Cole gets to play.” Your sister says, actually not being mean or sarcastic for once. “Yeah. I hope he does too.” You hear your phone ding. Picking it up, Cole’s name flashes on the screen. ‘Defo getting an early night but i can see you in the afternoon. Love ya.’ You smile at the words. You know how serious he takes his job, but he never fails to make time for you too. You text him back quickly and lay back again, smiling. “You’re so in love with him it’s gross.” Your sister playfully hits your arm causing you to slap her back.

A few hours later you’re getting ready to head to the England Squads hotel, a little trip planned by your father’s management team that conveniently lined up with your plans to meet Cole that afternoon. Your mum comes in to your room as you’re putting on some makeup and compliments your outfit, a simple pair of jeans and a top that was sent to you by a company that no doubt cost more than a night in the hotel itself. You smile and thank her, pulling her into a gentle side hug as she kisses your head. Your mum was definitely surprised when you told her about your relationship with Cole. Given your previous dating history he would never had been your type. But there was just something about him that instantly pulled you in, you still don’t know what it was to this day but you weren’t complaining.

Arriving at the squads hotel you check your hair and makeup in a compact mirror, brushing a few stray hairs into place with your nails. Your sister rolls her eyes, something that had now become the norm and makes a comment under her breath you can’t really hear. You get out the car and are greeted by some of the staff who lead you in through the hotels modern entrance. The hotel looked more like a spa than a hotel, every piece of furniture placed exactly, in a way to promote relaxation. You follow through the entrance into a board room, filled with players, staff and other prolific footballing legends and their families. You scan the crowd, looking for Cole. It doesn’t take you long as you see your dad pulling him in for a hug and patting him on the back, obviously congratulating him on reaching the finals. You grin as lock eyes with him, quickly wrapping your arms around him. He places a kiss to the top of your head, surprising you. He wasn’t the biggest fan of PDA, even the smallest things like holding hands made him panic. Maybe it was the fact you were one of the most famous people in the world which constantly occurred to him but never to you. You noticed some eyes laying on the pair of you which made you release him. You quickly returned to your professional manner and wished him good luck before finding your mum. She nudges you and gives you a cheeky smile when you reach her. “You two are silly. Why does it matter if anyone finds out?” She says. “It’s not that. I want to be public with him but not now. I want him to focus on football and I don’t want the media circus for him right now.” You say and give her a small smile. “Well that’s very thoughtful of you but make sure you’re public before Christmas because I’m not editing him out of the Instagram pictures.” She wraps an arm round you as you approach more people and chat about the final tomorrow.

Later that night after an expensive dinner in a posh restaurant near the squads hotel, you text Cole and tell him you want to see him before he goes to bed. He replies almost immediately and you ask your driver to wait outside the hotel and that you were just going to take a quick walk. You could see his tall figure on approach which made you speed up, not wanting to waste any more time not having his arms around you. “Hey.” He says softly when you reach him, extending his arms out and enveloping you in them. “Hey.” You almost whisper. “Wanna go for a walk?” You nod your head and begin walking hand in hand. It was dark now but the city of Berlin was still bustling, what with the warm weather. You walk past busy restaurants and bars packed with what you could only assume were England fans based on the noise. Cole squeezes your hand every so often, he can feel his palms become clammy when you look up at him. He still couldn’t believe his luck. After the first time he met you he couldn’t get you out of his mind. He was glad you made the first move though, otherwise you probably wouldn’t have been in this position now. Once you reach somewhere quieter Cole lets go of your hand and wraps his arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your temple at the same time. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?” You ask him. You almost knew what he was about to say, “Not really. You know me.” He cracks a smile.

“I hope Southgate plays you, Cold Palmer.” You joke and poke his side playfully. “Me too. Hopefully I’ll get some time.” You end up sitting on a bench overlooking a river, the hustle and bustle far behind you now. “It’s really pretty here.” You mutter. “Not as pretty as you.” He winks as you roll your eyes. You continue talking for a while before Cole regretfully tells you it’s getting late and he probably needs to head back now. He places a quick peck on your lips and stands up, offering you a hand. “I’m so excited for tomorrow. Are you gonna score a goal for me Palmer?” You tease as you approach the hotel. He shakes his head at you and smiles. When you return to the hotel entrance he turns to face you, you look up at him and he swears his heart starts beating a hundred times faster. “I’ll see you after the game, okay? I love you.” He places a soft kiss on your lips making you blush. “Good luck babe. I love you too. You’re gonna smash it.” You wave him goodbye and open the door of the car, getting in and thank your driver for waiting.

You wake up the next morning with a nervous feeling in your tummy. It sticks around for pretty much the whole day. You feel especially nervous when getting dressed. You grabbed your England shirt that you’d hung carefully in the hotel wardrobe and put it on, turning around in the mirror to see the back. You’d always wanted to wear his shirt to a game. You snap a quick picture and keep it for later, maybe to post on Instagram. You knew the absolute carnage that would take place when you did. You arrive at the Olympiastadion Berlin in your families usual fashion, through the back in all blacked out vehicles with staff waiting for you at the other end. The nerves had well and truly kicked in now. You check your phone to see if Cole had texted you. You knew he wouldn’t be nervous, very sure in himself and the team’s quality but you wanted him to text you to ease your nerves. Your dad shook the hands of the staff that greeted you and you thanked them as they took you all up to your private box. You were sharing with a few other well known people, you eagerly greeted them with big smiles.

(We all know how the game went so we’ll just leave it at that.)

A devastating loss for England. You were gutted. But also immensely proud of Cole. He’d been subbed on in the seventieth minute and scored only three minutes later. The only goal for England that game. You headed down to the pitch once everything had calmed down and spotted Cole in the stands with his family. His eyes were glassy with tears as he spoke to his dad. You approach slowly and he notices you, standing up immediately and wrapping you in a tight hug. You could hear the snapping of cameras behind you but neither of you cared in that moment. “I’m sorry baby.” You spoke quietly as you pulled away, cupping one side of his face with your hand. “You were amazing.” He sniffled slightly, trying not to cry in front of you but failing miserably as he pulled you in again. You rubbed his back reached up to kiss his cheek. His dad walked towards the both of you and pats Cole on the back before sitting with Cole’s mum. “I can’t believe we lost.” He reaches up to dry his eyes as you pout and rub his arm. You turn around slightly hearing his sister call your name. “Love your shirt.” He smirks a bit, it clearly cheering him up. He wraps his arm around your shoulder as you begin chatting with his sister.

You’re on your way back to your hotel when your phone begins to blow up. Story after story about your relationship with Cole, using the picture they clearly got when you were consoling him after the game. You save the picture, setting it as your lockscreen and then posting the picture of you in his shirt from earlier to your Instagram story.