#Clearly jealous of Ronaldo hair

[epuiseeparmedia]

Run now, Vincent, run! It’s funny to kick someone when he’s down, isn’t it, Vincent ? Go on and laugh now.

[augustinewrites]

bokuto’s son looks EXACTLY like him. acts like him too; theyre both a little groggy in the morning, so they both hunch over their food during breakfast, have the same drop of drool climbing down the side of their mouth as they sleep, grin the same way when they talk about something that makes them happy, pout the same way when they get annoyed.

unlike him, his son gets into football—which makes bokuto emo. he gets SO depressed when his boy talks about messi and ronaldo like they’re gods because son why what about your daddy 🥺 and your son goes “but you’re my daddy!” and it takes him a while to figure out that daddies are MUCH cooler than football players ☺️

when i read this i pictured it so clearly bcs it’s so accurate 😭

your senses tingle with apprehension as you eye the alarm on your nightstand. it’s 8:19am on a weekend, and at least one of your children should have crawled into bed to wake you and your husband by now.

no household with a five year old and two toddlers should be this quiet, but for some reason it is, and it makes you instantly worried.

when you roll over to tell bokuto this, he’s nowhere to be seen. you sit up, throroughly confused.

“kou?” you call, in case he’s in the bathroom.

no answer.

you throw the duvet aside, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and heading out the bedroom door and into the hall. you peek into your children’s rooms, anxiety spiking when you find them all empty.

you’re halfway to a full on meltdown when you hear the giggling coming from downstairs. it’s followed by bokuto’s shushing, and you instantly relax. you pad lightly down the stairs, interested to see what your boys are trying to get away with now.

well, nothing looks broken, but the shoes in the genkan are haphazardly thrown around, as if they’d been slipped off in a hurry. you peek into the kitchen, where a box of pastries from the bakery in town sit on the counter, along with a small bouquet of lillies. there’s a steaming cup of coffee waiting for you, in the mug your son had decorated with his handprints at school.

how he managed to herd all three children out the door this early without waking you is a mystery. the man’s never known quiet a day in his life.

just out in the backyard, you hear more laughter. your children are still in their pajama’s, bokuto changed into a simple tee and joggers. he’s got both your toddlers latched onto his back, and is trying to use a soccer ball like a volleyball. much to the chagrin of your five year old, whose room is outfitted with posters of messi and ronaldo.

“daddy,” he laughs, when bokuto encourages him to set the ball. your son’s already registered in the local kid’s league, but that hasn’t stopped your husband from trying to exchange soccer cleats for knee pads (don’t get him wrong, he’s at every game, always cheering the loudest). “soccer balls are for kicking!”

you pick up your mug and the box of pastries, carrying them towards the sliding door to catch the tail end of their conversation.

“but don’t you wanna play volleyball like your dad?” the grown man pouts, kids still clinging to his neck. “don’t you wanna spike volleyballs like me?”

akaashi’s daughter has taken a liking to volleyball, and maybe he’s a little, teeny tiny bit jealous. your husband and oldest son are the most alike, from the way they style their hair to the way they hunch groggily over breakfast, but return home with an endless supply of energy.

but apparently they don’t share everything.

“okay you four,” you grin, waving them over to the sun-soaked deck before things get a little too emotional. “come have some breakfast.”

four faces light up when they see you, one of your toddlers squirming off of bokuto’s back and waddling into your waiting arms. he props the other up on his hip, striding over to you and lightly gripping the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss.

“quite the morning you four had,” you chuckle, watching your son dig into the pastry box. “i’m surprised you wrangled them all out the door without me.”

“yeah, well, we wanted to treat you,” bokuto says with a lopsided grin, nodding towards your oldest. “him especially. i guess you’re the cool parent, and he’d rather have messi or ronaldo as a daddy,” he sighs dramatically, catching your son’s attention.

he immediately shakes his head, mouth stuffed with pastry as he exclaims, “no, you’re my daddy, and daddies are cooler than soccer players!”

“kou,” you murmur when your husband falls silent, wrapping an arm around his waist. “please don’t cry, because if you cry, i’m going to cry—”

“‘m not crying,” he sniffles. “i swear!”

[bornoffside]

Come Home - Cristiano Ronaldo

For the Anon who requested CR7, I hope you like it! I got a little carried away with the length (as usual). 

“Cris, you know I have nothing to hide from you. If you want to say something, just say it.” She was exasperated because he clearly had something on his mind, but he wouldn’t spit it out.

“Do you have feelings for Antoine?” She was stunned by the question, definitely not expecting it.

When they had first met, Genevieve was at the Santiago Bernabéu as Antoine’s guest. The two had been best friends since her father got her a job with the legal team in Atletico, 4 years ago. Her father -Laurent- was a well known lawyer in Europe, and she was trying to follow in his footsteps. When she met Antoine they had instantly bonded, with her family being from Lyon itself.

However, her nephew (much to her dismay) was a die-hard Madridista. So when he had begged her to take him to watch the famous derby, she couldn’t say ‘no’. She met Cristiano after the game. Junior had been sitting alone that day because Dolores had returned to Portugal for a funeral, and even though Cristiano knew it was a risk, he had trusted security with his son’s safety because there was no one else who could look after him at the time.

That ended up being a mistake, or a blessing depending on how you looked at it, because in the rush to leave the stadium after the match, Junior got lost in the crowd. Genevieve and her nephew -Michel- had been the ones to find him, and even though he was wary of the stranger asking to help him, he had accepted her hand as she weaved them through the crowd. He got along well with Michel and had easily led them to the change rooms - he had been there so many times that he knew the stadium better than most grown men.

So Genevieve had met Cristiano, and the two boys became close friends. The more they saw each other, the more often Cristiano would see Via (as Junior had nicknamed her) and the closer they became as well. It didn’t take long for him to ask her on a date, and they seemed to understand each other perfectly.

But when it came to her friendship with Antoine, the two were inseparable, and that was something Cristiano did not like. She had reassured Cristiano many times, but he had always been jealous that the Frenchman knew more about his own girlfriend than he did.

“He’s my best friend, but that’s all he is. There’s no romantic feelings between us at all. You already know that.” She was honest, and it bothered her that he kept questioning this.

“And in the past?” He clenched his fists when he noticed her brows twitch down. She usually did it when she was thinking about how to approach a certain situation.

“Does it honestly matter?” She nervously bit her lip, and he knew straight away that there had been something there, if there wasn’t still something there.

“It does to me.”

“Okay, well…we slept together once.”

“What?”

She sighed at his surprised and borderline enraged tone.

“I said-”

“I know what you said.” He snapped, interrupting her. “Why am I only just hearing about it now?”

He was beyond angry at the revelation, mentally cursing the Frenchman to the deepest pits of hell. But at the moment there was only one person to take that anger out on, and seeing as she was partly at fault, he had no problem doing so.

“I didn’t think it was relevant. It was only once, and over four years ago-”

“You didn’t think it was relevant?” He chuckled without humour, and she winced at how condescending it sounded. “My girlfriend spends most of her time hanging around a man she’s had sex with, and you think that’s okay?”

“Wait a minute, do you think I’m cheating on you? With Antoine?” She asked incredulously. It was an insinuation that hurt more than anything, if there was one thing she’d never condone no matter the circumstances, it was cheating.

“What else am I supposed to think?”

“Are you out of your mind? I would never-” Their shouting match was cut short when she noticed movement behind Cristiano. Her face soften when she saw Junior’s frightened face, and watery eyes.

“Junior, mon petit chou…why don’t you go back to bed, your papai will be up in a minute.” Junior hesitantly nodded and quickly ran away.

Cristiano didn’t know why it made him angry to hear how considerate and soothing she was being with his son, but he lashed out anyway.

“Don’t tell him what to do, you’re not his mother.” She looked as though he had physically struck her, and stepped back away from him.

It was a combination of factors that had hit her.

Thoughts of her own mother being the most dominant. Her family was torn apart because of her mother’s infidelity, and that was the prime reason she hated cheaters. That’s not to say that she hated her mother, she had never met the woman after all, but she knew that Cristiano was unknowingly putting them both in the same category by labelling her a 'cheater’.

Then there was the fact that he apparently thought she wasn’t even allowed to talk to his son. She had been looking after him whenever she could. She had taken him to matches, both his own and to watch his father play, she had taken him shopping, to the park, anywhere and everywhere that the boy had wanted to go, she even picked him up from school whenever Cris couldn’t. She would have literally done anything for him.

She had done more for the little boy in 4 months, than his last 3 girlfriends combined, and she wouldn’t deny that she had come to love him in that time. No, he wasn’t her own child, but she didn’t think that Cris would so blatantly disregard all she had done for him.

He was still mad, but seeing the hurt expression on her face forced him to turn his back to her. He didn’t enjoy seeing it on her face, and knowing it was his fault made it even worse. So he did the only thing he could think of, and only later would he realise how stupid it had been.

“Just go. Leave.”

With the tears finally spilling onto her cheeks, and Cristiano still not facing her, Gen had grabbed her handbag off of the sofa, and quickly made her way out the front door without a sound. His eyes clamped shut beneath his furrowed brows as soon as he heard the familiar engine start.

And then she was gone.

It was almost 10 o’clock at night when a frantic knock came from Antoine’s door. His dark brows furrowed in confusion, wondering who would be around at this time of night. He paused his game of FIFA, and walked over to the entrance.

The moment the door swung open, he was attacked.

Well, not attacked. But his visitor had practically thrown herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck tightly as if he’d disappear at any moment. It only took a moment to realise it was Gen, and he held her tight when he heard the gasping sound of her breathing and the sniffles as her face burrowed into his neck.

He had no idea what was going on, but he had never seen her like this. Her body was shaking in his arms, and the protective instinct within him hit full force. Who in their right mind had hurt her this way? Who ever it was would be dying a painful death, that was for sure.

Anto loosened his hold on her, bringing his hands up to cup the sides of her face and tilting it back so that he could finally inspect her. He would have cringed at the red puffiness of her eyes, the few strands of hair that stuck to her wet face, and the way her lips wobbled -but he was far too angry for that.

“Genevieve, ma belle…who did this to you?” He had kept his tone quiet and calm, but he was raging beneath the surface. Still, he knew that if he made his anger known, she’d be hesitant to tell him what had happened. She wouldn’t want him to do anything, and they both knew he would get in trouble for his impulsiveness if he did.

“H-he said…he th-thought I,” she sniffled loudly, exhaling a shaky breath before continuing. “I would never…I’m not like her…I’m not.” She broke down after that, and he let go of her crumpling face so that she could return it to the crook of his neck, gently stroking her hair.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out who ‘he’ was, and it was even easier to figure out who ‘her’ was. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Portuguese forward hurt her. It wasn’t in his nature to hold onto the same woman for long, but Antoine had genuinely thought he had grown to love Genevieve.

“Shhh…it’s okay. I promise, it’ll be okay.”

“H-he s-said-“

“I know, Gen…and if he honestly thinks so little of you, then he can stay as far away as possible.”

“B-but I, I love h-him…”

Antoine's heart broke for his best friend.

Although it pained him to see her like this, he was slightly glad it had happened sooner rather than later. He already knew that Gen was in love with the man, but he really didn’t deserve her. Cristiano hardly knew how to hold onto a serious relationship, but Anto hadn’t wanted to ruin it for her by telling her of the man’s obvious commitment issues.

Seriously though? Genevieve cheating? It was a ridiculous idea. It was as if Cristiano was looking for any old reason to end his relationship with her, and he had used the stupidest one. Did he not know her at all?

So the Atlético forward stood there for another ten minutes until she became sleepy, stroking his best friend’s hair soothingly, and promising himself that he’d never let the man hurt her like this again.

Never.

As per usual, the media had instantly jumped at the opportunity to gossip when they realised that Gen hadn’t been to one of his games in weeks, nor had they been seen together in just as long. Everyone was questioning whether or not they were still together, or whether they had moved on to other people. It was something that hurt him to even think about.

But that wasn’t the worst part of it.

Junior had been asking when 'Via' would be 'coming home’. He had probably missed the woman more than his father, which was saying something. There was no one else -other than his grandmother- who he liked to spend time with.

Ah yes, his grandmother.

Maria Dolores dos Santos Aveiro was not happy with him. She had called him after seeing an article speculating the shattering of his relationship with Genevieve, and he could tell that she was unhappy with the thought.

So he had lied to her. He lied to his mother…the most important woman in his life.

“Cristiano? What is this I hear about you and Genevieve? Why are they saying you are no longer together?”

Cris shrugged, even though she couldn’t see him through the phone.

“I don’t know, mãe. She is a busy woman, and I can’t always see her when I want. The media is being dramatic again.” He bit his lip, struggling to force the lie past his lips. The line was silent for a moment, and he almost sighed in relief when she didn’t interrogate him further.

“Okay…well then, how about my grandson? Hand him the phone, I want to talk to my little man.” She always sounded so excited to hear from the boy, and it brought a genuine smile to his face.

Of course, things had gone downhill from there.

Cristiano should have known that his mother wouldn’t have left it alone. Instead she had used Junior’s sweet naivety to find out whether or not Gen had been around. The boy had told her about the yelling he had heard, before Gen told him to head upstairs, and then his grandma had politely asked him to hand the phone back to his father.

She proceeded to not-so-politely ask Cristiano what was going on, settling for using his full name in order to emphasise just how mad she was.

“Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro! How dare you lie to your mother!” He cringed at the tone of her voice.

“You tell me what happened, right now!”

And he did. He told her exactly what had happened, and Dolores rolled her eyes when she realised that her son was more of a caveman than a 21st century footballer. She knew he was possessive and that he was impulsive, but she had expected him to be more understanding by this age.

He was 31 now, and even though Irina had been his longest relationship, Dolores had a good feeling about Genevieve. The girl had a good head on her shoulders, and she made both her son and grandson very happy. She could see the way Junior lit up whenever his Via visited him, and seeing the same happiness on the French woman’s face was enough to reassure Dolores that she would make a wonderful mother one day.

Something that she hadn’t truly seen in Cristiano’s previous girlfriends. That’s not to say that Irina hadn’t liked Junior. She definitely did…but it sometimes seemed as if she was forcing herself to spend time with him, not because she wanted to, but because it was expected of her.

Gen just loved the boy.

So maybe Dolores had hoped that this relationship would be a little more…permanent. Cristiano needed a good woman in his life and Junior needed a mother.  

But 3 weeks had passed by, and Cristiano hadn’t even made an attempt to approach his now ex-girlfriend. He didn’t know what he was expecting. He’d sit at home with Junior, wallowing in self-pity and waiting for her to burst through the door with a grand apology.

But he knew that was a ridiculous thing to be waiting for, for multiple reasons.

Firstly, after thinking for a long while, he had realised that she didn’t really have anything to apologise for. Sure, she slept with Antoine once upon a time -it still pissed him off to even think about the French pretty boy seeing her so exposed…and not just seeing-ugh. Disgusting.

Back to the point. She had sex with Antoine. But it was so long before they had started dating that it probably shouldn’t have bothered him so much, not to mention that he himself had a long list of past lovers. It still would have been nice to know. But Cristiano knew he was possessive, and the green-eyed monster had reared its ugly head and he couldn’t see past it. It ate him alive, knowing she was still spending time with the Frenchman, while he didn’t know the other man’s motives. He knew that for some reason women adored Antoine Griezmann, and Genevieve was no exception.

What if Antoine didn’t want to be 'just friends’? What if he wanted more, and what if she realised it and ended up wanting the same thing?

Cristiano knew it was a foolish thought. She loved him, he could see it. It was clear in the way she looked at him -because yes, he did pay attention to the little things- with an adoration that he hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t the typical lustful and sultry glance he was used to. It was a look so soft and full of love that he doubted he’d ever need to hear those words come out of her mouth. He knew.

Genevieve didn’t look at anyone like that. Not Antoine, only him.

He’d see it in the way she’d jump through hoops to make his son happy. Junior was more shy than most children, and maybe that was because he was so isolated from the world, considering Cris didn’t want the media bothering him. But he had never seen the boy take to anyone as quickly as he had taken to Genevieve.

Even the first time they had met, when Cristiano was losing his mind thinking the boy had gone missing, Junior had allowed the woman to hold his hand as she led him to his father. That in itself showed he had trusted her, because he knew very well to never trust a stranger. But Cris was grateful that he had in that instance.

And then of course, he could see it in the way she tried to make him happy, as if everything she already did for him wasn’t enough. She’d go to his games as often as she could, and had even -very reluctantly- donned a Real Madrid shirt with his name on it, despite being a rival fan. He knew that was sinful in her opinion, but it only showed him how supportive she was of him. She would babysit Junior while he was at training, and even spent time with his mother.

He counted a grand total of ex-girlfriends who had willingly gone out of their way to spend time with his mother. Zero.

Yes, he knew that she loved him, and that she would never intentionally do anything to hurt him.

So why hadn’t he approached her yet?

Because he was -for the first time- terrified of what she would say to him. What if his harsh words had been enough to drive her away permanently? What if she no longer wanted anything to do with him? Or what if, god forbid, someone else had already swooped in on a newly single Genevieve and she was moving on from him.

Hmm…no. He had doubted that was possible after only 3 weeks, but she was too good to go unnoticed.

Still, he was being a coward, and that had never happened before. So he had wracked his brain, wondering why he was all of a sudden acting like a fool and waiting around for her, and he could only come up with one answer.

He was scared to lose her for good.

Why?

Because he loved her…and he was done waiting.

Antoine didn’t bother suppressing the annoyed groan that left his throat as soon as he noticed who was at the door. His pale eyes glared at the older man, earning an eye roll in return.

“I get it...you don’t like me. I don’t like you either, but I’m not here for you.”

The Frenchman scoffed at his rudeness, but understood that Cristiano was probably still a little bitter about a certain revelation. They had never liked each other, but it was more than that now.

“What do you want?” His tone was a mix of bored and angry, and it reassured Cris that this wouldn’t be an easy conversation.

“I want to talk to Genevieve.”

“Why?”

“I want to apologise…I’ve come to terms with it."

“Really?” Antoine cocked a disbelieving brow. “So you’re okay with the fact that I had sex with your girlfriend? Took her virginity, in fact.”

Cristiano’s jaw clenched in time with his fists. “Why are you doing this?”

He truly couldn’t tell why Antoine was intentionally trying to provoke him. Did he enjoy rubbing it in his face? The virginity fact was new, and it only added fuel to the fire.

“Because I want to hurt you. I want to hurt you, just like you hurt her.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care.” Cristiano looked surprised that he interrupted him, Antoine wasn’t usually one for confrontation. “I don’t care if you didn’t mean it, or that it was said in the heat of the moment.” He shook his head, raking a hand through his fluffy hair as he remembered his best friend coming to him in tears.

“Have you ever wondered why Gen doesn’t speak about her mother?”

Cristiano’s brows twitched down for a second in thought. He had never paid much attention to it before, but now that Antoine mentioned it, he had only ever heard of her father -Laurent.

“Her mother cheated on Laurent. When he found out, he made sure that she would never see Genevieve again…she tore their family apart, and Gen will never forgive her for that.”

It felt as if a stone had settled in Cristiano’s stomach, and he guiltily looked away from Antoine’s judgemental stare.

“You accused her of being the type of person she’s spent her whole life hating.” Antoine’s teeth ground together, before he spoke up once more.

“So, no. I don’t care that you got jealous over a drunken one-night stand that happened before we even became friends. I do care about my best friend coming home in tears, as if someone had ripped the heart out of her chest."

“I love her.”

“What?”

“I said, I love her. It’s why I am here…to tell her.”

“You’ve never told her that before.” Antoine mused quietly, he sounded like he was thinking aloud.

“How do you even know that?”

“I’m her best friend, she tells me things.” The Frenchman shrugged, as if that was all the explanation he needed to give.  

“Okay, whatever.” Cristiano shook his head in exasperation. “Is she here?”

Antoine shook his head negatively, still deciding whether or not to trust the older man with his best friend’s heart. It hadn’t really worked out too well the first time. Sensing that Antoine wasn’t going to help him much, Cristiano sighed in annoyance.

“Look, if you want me to beg, fine. I need to see her, Antoine. I need her. Please.”

Antoine huffed out a breath, clenching his jaw as his pale eyes studied the desperate look on Cristiano’s face. He never thought he would see the -usually confident- man reduced to this. But it reassured him that maybe he was being genuine.

“She’s not here.”

“Then where is she?” Cris was getting sick of this. But he had misunderstood Antoine’s meaning, and the Frenchman quickly cleared it up when he realised.

“No, I meant that she’s not in Spain.”

Cris shook his head in confusion. He hoped to god that she hadn’t left the country because of his mistake. But she was too strong for that. She wouldn’t let some man come between her life like that.

“She’s in Paris.” Antoine frowned deeply as he continued, and was surprised to see Cristiano’s expression mirroring his own. “Her father is in hospital, they don’t know what the problem is yet but she landed two days ago.”

Cris nodded slowly at the information, wondering how he could get to Paris, especially considering he had a flight in a few hours and a match the next day. Not just any match too, the Champions League final - against the man who was currently glaring at him.

“Thank you…for telling me.” Antoine’s furrowed brows relaxed, but he pinned Cristiano with a hard glare.

“If you hurt her again-”

“I won’t-”

“If you do…I’ll make sure she hates you for the rest of her life. And Cristiano? The only other person to hurt her like this was her mother. She hasn’t seen her in 23 years. You hurt her this time, and neither will you.”  

With that said, he practically slammed the door shut in Cristiano’s face for dramatic effect. He froze momentarily, feeling a little proud at his defence of his friend, but he had no doubt that Cristiano could kick down the door and beat him up for slamming it in his face.

Anto smirked triumphantly when he heard the older man’s footsteps retreating from his door.

The flight to Paris was a blur.

Not 24 hours ago he was hoisting the Champions League trophy in the air, and now he was on his way to see if he could salvage the most important relationship he had ever been involved in. The lady at the reception had stared at him with wide eyes, and despite not being allowed to reveal patient information to someone who wasn’t directly related, he had managed to nag her into telling him what room Laurent was in.

He didn’t even know if Genevieve was there in the first place, but he knew she loved her father too much to leave his bedside.

And there she was, asleep on the small couch that sat adjacent to Laurent’s bed. Had he been paying more attention to anyone but Via, he would have noticed that the older man was in fact awake. Instead, he gently scooped her up and out of her uncomfortable position, cradling her to his chest as he sat down. She groaned quietly at the disruption, but was quick to settle and rest her head on his chest comfortably.

“You hurt her.”

Cristiano almost flinched when Laurent’s voice cut through the quiet rhythmic beeping of machines. It wasn’t a question, and Cristiano was honest with the man. He had never met Laurent before and this was technically his first impression, so he knew it was best to be honest.

“I did.” He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor in shame.

“But you love her.”

“I do.” He paused for a moment, knowing that if anyone knew the answer to his next question, it would be the man before him. “Will she forgive me?” It was asked quietly, and Laurent could hear the carefully masked fear in the footballer’s voice.

“That is a question only she can answer.” Cris gnawed at his lip nervously, staring down at her tired features. She was still so beautiful, even without the care she usually took on her own appearance. “But, if it makes you feel better…I think she will.”

Cristiano’s brown orbs shot back up to her father, and the Frenchman could see the spark of hope in them. “Really?”

Laurent nodded slightly before elaborating. “When she was old enough to understand why her mother had ‘left’, Genevieve vowed to never see the woman again. She never wanted to meet her, or know her. When my daughter is hurt, as childish as it may be, she will do whatever it takes to avoid whoever hurt her.”

“Sir…sorry, but how is that meant to make me feel better?” He felt awkward talking to Laurent. The man was intimidating and more importantly, he was Gen’s dad. Cris tried remaining as respectful as possible, knowing that Gen care for her father’s opinion just as much as he cared for his own mother’s.

Laurent chuckled tiredly.

“In all the time I have known my daughter, I’ve never seen her happier to watch Real Madrid play, than she was last night when you lifted that Champions League trophy.”

Cristiano perked up, hope swelling in him at the news that she had watched the game, and was happy for him. They had played against Atlético after all, her favourite team and her best friend.

“She loves you, Cristiano. That much I do know.” The footballer nodded slowly, and he could tell by Laurent’s hushed voice and slow response, that he was about to fall asleep. But before his medicine induced nap hit him, he managed to squeeze out a few final words.

“But if you hurt her again…you’ll be dealing with me…”

He tried not to jerk away when her nose bumped into his neck, tickling him and inhaling deeply at the same time. He felt her still for a moment, and his stomach shook in silent laughter while she sniffed him making the same rapid sounds his dog usually would. Surely she couldn’t identify him by scent alone…

“Nnuugh…Cris.” He grinned with a small blush as she pulled her head back to meet his gaze with squinting eyes. She smiled dreamily at him, and burrowed her head back into the crook of his neck like a small child.

His fingers gently raked through her hair, knowing that she loved the feeling. She sighed happily at his actions and pressed a small kiss to his neck that did nothing to help the new problem in his pants. It had been almost 4 weeks without her, and just holding her close was enough to make desire shoot through him.

“That feels nice…” He almost cocked a brow, but then he realised she wasn’t talking about that, but rather the hand stroking her hair. “But I’m still yelling at you later.”

He chuckled quietly. “As long as you come back home, that’s okay with me.”

[letitbelabeled]

Sherlock

24. There must be at least 20 of them

As I walked out of the bathroom, I saw Cristiano at the end of the room, lying comfortably in bed, eyes locked on the phone with sounds effect echoed in our bed room. 

“What are you doing, babe?” I asked as I dried my hair with my towel in front of the mirror, giving him my back.

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?” I repeated the question. I waited for three seconds and no answers from him. I turned my body facing him; his plump lips puckered still not moving.

I sighed, walking closer to him and peek on the screen, which I can’t really see clearly.

“Babe”

“Yes? 

“Who’s Henry Austen?”

“The one who I introduced to you when you pick me up last time, the blonde one” I answered; I looked at his reflection in the mirror, still not moving but looking a bit more stern than before.  

“Sergi dos Santos?”

“Who?!” I quickly put my moisturizer in the drawer and turned facing him, “Why are you asking?”

“Who’s Sergi dos Santos?”

“Cristiano!”

“What?!” He finally put down my phone on the bed, and raised his head, reading me skeptically.

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed, turning his face away from me, and I know that’s what he does when he’s bothered with something. We have been dating for 1,5 years now and I definitely know when Cristiano is upset, and what makes him upset.  I had to admit that it is not unlikely to see Cristiano jealous, sometimes he even asked about who are my classmates and if they’re handsome just to make sure.

“Is something wrong, babe?” I asked again, calming down my tone this time.

“Would you mind answering my question? Who is Sergio dos Santos?”

“My high school friend…and now can you please explain why?” I crossed my hand in my chest. I no longer can be patient with this act. Of course he did not look satisfied with my tone.

He got up from the bed, resting his muscular body on the headboards and took a deep breath, “Okay, before I explain anything, how many guys are there in your classes?”

He did not look amuse when I snorted, “Well, there are 7 classes in a week, and there are approximately 50 to 52 people in one class, I think half of them are men”

“Oh my God! There must be at least 20 of them!” he shouted, did not look pleased at all.

“Oh my God, Cristiano Ronaldo, just spill it!”

It took 10 seconds of silence before the sound of him taking a deep breath broke the silence, “Do you know the ‘sherlock’ application?”

I tried my best to resist the laugh that about to burst. Actually my friend was talking about this application earlier in the day, it’s the application that can track people who stalked your instagram account and sorting it down based on how often they opened your instagram account, “No, I don’t know, what about it?”

“It’s an app”

“And?”

“And it can tell you who stalked you on instagram”

“And?”

The defeated look on his face made me want to just jump on him and shower him with kisses, Cristiano must log on the app with my account and saw who stalked me. “Henry Austen and Sergi dos Santos were on your top ten. Why would they stalked you? Imagine if all the boys in your class too!”

I put a surprise look on my face, those two are my friends and I don’t see a reason why he needs to be jealous over them. “Well, sometimes when I saw them or when we hung out on break time in cafeteria, I asked them to like my picture, and don’t worry all the boys in my class are not interested in me. Even if they’re, they won’t have the guts since they know who my boyfriend is” I let a small laugh, “Please Ronnie, they’re nothing compared to you” Walking across the room, I sat beside him and hold his hand, “you know you’re being unreasonably jealous now, right?”

“Yeah…”

I giggled and ruffling his hair with my hand before stroking his cheeks. “Are one of them my number one stalker?”

“No”

“Then who?”

He snickered before answering my question, “Me”

As we laugh, he leaned over and pulled me down for a deep kiss. That kiss was full of tension, yet he’s still careful as he rolled and made him sat on top of me before taking of his shirt. My silly Cristiano❤