#and Haaland you beautiful man

[sorceresski]

Wow, this match was a rollercoaster but we did it🤝

[yutarot]

IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]

twenty-six — however hard it may be. wc: 0.8k

(written section is below)

“i love this song!!!” jungwoo yells over the scream of ‘stereo love’ blasting from the speakers. you’d already been at the party for an hour, and jungwoo was still yelling ‘i love this song’ at every single damn one that played.

“honestly, one day, that man is gonna realise that haaland does not give a single shit about him.” yuta laughs, huddling into you, johnny and kazuha in order to speak quieter and you still hear him.

“he’s right, jungwoo really is trying wayyyy too hard” johnny says, and you turn to him with a dead expression, panning your eyes down to his ‘i love haaland’ t-shirt.

“righttt….” you reply, and johnny shrugs innocently. “i’m gonna go grab another drink. anyone want refills?” you ask.

before kazuha can reply to tell u she wants another, jungwoo comes charging through the middle of your group, arms drunkenly slinging over yours and yutas shoulders as he sings the words of ‘auld lang syne’, very wrong and very out of pitch.

“oh shittt.” jungwoo yells as he looks at you, his half drank cup of cherry vodka now decorating your very expensive and very white dress. “i’m so sorry!”

you laugh, telling him it’s okay and lying that you can simply wash it out, which eases his very incessantly loud yells of apology.

you wait for him to drag yuta, johnny and kazuha back up near the speakers before you silently slip away to the kitchen to grab a towel to dry yourself.

but your journey to haalands kitchen is short lived, as a hand clutches your arm, pulling you into what seems like a coat closet, the door closing behind you.

a very small, very dark, coat closet.

and there’s someone stood, very close to you.

“i was right. you do look beautiful.”

you recognise his voice immediately.

“it’s literally pitch black in here, jaehyun.” you bicker.

“i saw you earlier, before jungwoo spilt half a cup of cherry vodka down your dress.” he laughs at the mention, drawing your attention back to the wet fabric seeping into your skin and far from the thoughts you were having before.

you can’t see him, but you can feel him. his arms by his side, his chin just above your forehead and his eyes, baring into yours.

you’re very aware of where your bodies are. and you’re very aware when his hand begins to trace the curve of your jaw before pushing the loose strands of your hair from your face, gently brushing the nape of your neck as he moves your hair to the side.

his touch is barely there, but you feel it.

he clears his throat to speak, but there’s nothing he can say to define what this moment means to him.

but all you can think about is the nagging in your head.

speak to him, ask him, now.

“jaehyun?”

“hmm?”

“i need to ask you something.”

his hands drop from your hair, falling instead to the door handle.

your hand goes over his, “what are you doing?!” you whisper-yell.

he laughs. “chill out, yn, the kitchen is empty, we can talk there.”

you’re hesitant to comply, but you’d rather be in there than in the close proximity of that god-forsaken coat closet any longer, as much as the butterflies in your stomach wish for you to stay.

as you get to the kitchen, you finally find a towel, beginning to pat yourself down.

jaehyuns eyes are on you, full of amusement and something beyond.

something you are so incredibly unsure of.

you set down the towel. “you wanted to ask me something?” jaehyun asks.

“oh right.” you nod. “the way you feel about me, it’s not in a relationship kind of way, is it?”

he’s silent for a few moments, leaning back with his elbows on the counter, his fists clenching as he thinks of what to say next.

“no.” he replies.

so you were right.

he doesn’t want you, for you. he just wants to sleep with you.

you’re just another one of his one night stands.

you can’t say you expected this, all his struggle with telling you how he feels, all his words as Y.

and it was all just so he could sleep with you.

you don’t want him to elaborate, but he does. “i’m not ready for a relationship yet, yn. not just with you, but with anyone. you can’t be mad at that, can you?”

he’s right, you can’t. if he’s not ready, then he’s not ready.

but a pang in your heart is the only thing that follows.

and there is nothing that you can do.

nothing but the simple act of acceptance.

so, you accept it.

however hard it may be.

mlist — next

notes; sorry guys… pls don’t hate me…anyways! 4 chapters left im so sad i dont want it to end but i also can’t wait to start ride or die f1 jeno is actually killing me 😊😊 also the notes on that is insane thank u sm?????? i will NAWT let u guys down🙏

taglist — open; @https-yeonjun @chenlesfavorite @therealbobbyshloby @f6llsun @jkslvsnella @nanaxwi @cloudmrk @neocrashed @vernonburger @vividwritess @taeeflwrr @mmjhh1998 @cyjzzl @stareaa @minkyuncutie @mrkleelvr @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @slayhaechan @jaeveil @tynlvr @mslora @nosungluv @grassbutneo @dokyriu @girlz4jaem @axo-l0tl @yyangj3lly @solvrse @m1ng1swife @gentlepeach @xiuriii @soobinbunnie5 @tocupid @apolloxxivmin @ctrlstar @gyuguys @tokitosun @i-kai @flamingi @mrkleelvr @en-dream @queenrachelpink @ssweetreveries @swanyvess @flaminghotyourmom @hyuck-me @cryingforjae @hizhu @starfilledgaze

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Mbappe x reader where haaland tries hitting on reader and mbappe gets jelly ?? Fluffy and sweet 😇😇😇

Jealousy, Jealousy

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — The one where Kylian gets jealous.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kylian Mbappé x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 1.5k

Warnings! Fluffity FLUFF, tiny bit of angst (just a smidge), Swearing (barely), Love bomb.

Kylian doesn't get jealous.

At least that's what he's telling himself as he stands by the snack table watching Erling Haaland flirt with you.

He knew he had no right to be. After all, it wasn't your fault that he wasn't man enough to ask you out. But that didn't stop the green-eyed monster from possessing him.

It should be him.

Him making you laugh, whispering in your ear, holding your hand. If only he had the courage to talk to you. But how could he? You were so out of his league.

You look beautiful, wearing a green dress, the silk hugging your curves in all the right places. Your skin glows radiantly under the soft glow of the chandelier, accentuating your beauty. The emerald shade of the dress compliments your eyes, making them shine even brighter, even from all the way he's standing.

You're beautiful.

His grip tightens around his wine glass as he watches you tip your head back in laughter at something he says. His eye nearly twitches when he sees Haaland place his palm on your shoulder, almost caressing you. It should be him.

And it will be.

Taking one last swing of his champagne, he clears his throat and marches over.

"So, what are you doing after this."He overhears Haaland ask once he's close enough.

"Um..."

"Y/N." His breath hitches as you turn around, your usual smile lighting up your face, melting his heart. He swears he almost faints when you reply to him in that soft, sweet voice of yours, the sound sending shivers down his spine.

"Hey, Kylian."

He has to take a moment to compose himself, subtly wiping his moist palms on the pants of his suit. "Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?" From the corner of his eye, he sees Haaland stiffen at him being here, clearly threatened by his presence. And the thought brings a small satisfying smirk to his face.

"Yeah, sure. Um, Erl, can you excuse me for a second." He hates the way you have a nickname for him. But his heart flutters at how polite you are.

You were by far the kindest most gentle person he had ever met in his life. Even on your worst day, you still managed to show kindness and compassion towards people. The good and the bad. It's why he fell and continues to fall in love with you every day.

Now, if only he could say that out loud.

I will. He thinks to himself, determined.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about." You ask once you guys are away from the crowd, tucked in a little corner beside the chocolate truffles. He watches with amusement as you grab one and stuff it into your mouth. Completely unapologetic.

Another thing he loved about you. You're never afraid to be yourself, but not in a weird way. In a way that makes people comfortable around you.

He remembers the day he first met you. At this children's charity football match that you were helping organize. His manager had asked him to surprise the kids after many of them expressed their wish to meet him. And he had agreed.

Little did he know.

He was dribbling the ball, showing off a bit for the kids, when he spotted you across the field. You were there, cheering like crazy, smile shining brighter than any stadium light he had ever seen. You were a sweaty mess, hair tangled and sticking to your forehead, surrounded by kids. But you didn't seem to care.

And for a moment he felt like the universe paused.

It's been two years since then, but his heart still skips a beat every time he sees you, thinks about you. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of. Getting high every time he takes a hit.

Now you guys are friends, have been since that day. But he wants more. More of you.

He knows that risking the friendship you have built is risky, but he can't ignore this anymore. No matter what happens, he's glad he's had you in his life.

Besides, the worst you can say is no. Right?

With a deep breath, he musters all the strength in his body, feeling like his knees are about to give out from under him. "Y/N," He starts his voice shaking slightly, "I've been thinking..." The rest of the sentence dies in his throat as he looks into your eyes.

Fuck.

Just say it, Kylian.

Your curiosity grows as you wait for him to continue. The bright light of the chandeliers above seems to dim around you, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of his vulnerability.

You furrow your brow when you notice his hands visibly shaking, now a bit concerned by his serious tone and nervous behavior. "Kylian, what's going on? You're starting to worry me."

The way you're looking at him takes his breath away, so much warmth in your eyes and something else, and he can't stop himself from blurting it out.

"I love you."

Time stops. You blink, processing his words, as the words hang heavy. Kylian's heart pounds in his chest as he waits for your response, palms clammy with fear. The silence stretches on, leaving him feeling insecure and exposed.

The vulnerability in his eyes tugs at your heartstrings. And you put him out of his misery.

Without saying a word, you lean in and kiss him. It's slow and passionate, a culmination of all the emotions that have been building between you. You taste of chocolate and champagne , a sweet intoxicating combination that leaves him craving for more.

So he takes. Deepening the kiss, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. The world around you fades away as you both lose yourself in the moment, savoring every sensation.

The kiss speaks volumes, confirming what words alone cannot express—your love for him too.

It lasts for a minute but feels like an eternity, as if time has stopped just for the two of you. When you finally pull away, you both are left breathless, your hearts pounding in sync.

The intensity of it all lingers in the air, crushing you under the weight of your newfound bond.

It's a feeling neither of you want to forget.

"I love you too." You whisper softly, your voice barely audible amidst the background chatter

Kylian is speechless as he looks into your eyes, his crinkling with how wide he's smiling. Then he's kissing you again, this time with more fervor. And you lose yourself in him, the taste of him, the feel of him.

Him.

Your back hits the wall and you snap back to reality, realizing where you are. The last thing you wanted was for this private moment between you to become front-page news tomorrow.

You're hidden by the large curtains that surround the secluded corner of the room, but you don't want to risk someone seeing you.

"Kylian," you mumble breathlessly, breaking away from the kiss. But he won't let you, going back for more. You almost melt into it but the sound of footsteps approaching causes a surge of panic to rush through your veins. And you push him away.

Kylian looks at you with confusion and concern, a bit hurt, but when Erling Haaland rounds the corner, he quickly understands.

"Y/N! Y/N. There you are. Where did Kylian g-?" Erling's voice trails off as he takes in the scene before him. Your lipstick is smudged and your hair is disheveled, and Kylian stands a few steps away from you with red-stained lips.

Kylian steps forward, a smug expression on his face as he stares at Erling. Erling's eyes flicker between the two of you, his confusion turning into a smirk. "Well, well, well," he says teasingly. "Looks like you've finally done it."

Kylian's slight smirk turns into a frown and he crosses his arms defensively. "Done what?" he asks, his tone defensive. Erling chuckles and nods towards you. "Ms, girl over there has been crushing on you forever," he replies, a playful glint in his eyes as his eyes fall on your cowering form. "Erling, I love him but I don't know how to tell him." He does an exaggerated high-pitched imitation of your voice and your face flushes with embarrassment as you avoid making eye contact with Kylian.

"Stop." You reach over and playfully swat Erling's arm, trying to hide your embarrassment with a smile. Kylian watches the whole interaction with a smile. Kylian's smile widens, and he takes a step closer to you. "You love me." He singsongs, placing a soft peck on your lips.

Erling gags beside you causing you both to giggle.

Kylian shouldn't get jealous. Because you were his all along.

-Bianca🌻

[pavardscherie]

rough sex tape and after care erling Haaland

four on camera, erling haaland

pairing erling haaland & female you summary erling convinces you to make a sex tape. three wasn't enough so he wants a fourth one.

izzy talks man, the haaland game is strong on tumblr. really excited to fulfill more requests about different football players. so I'm very bad at starting smut, which is the reason why i started in the middle again, lol. hope you like it.

requests are open!

cheek pressed into the softness of the multiple cushions, the hair messily scattered across the face. hasty breaths escaped the puffy lips, spit drooling out of the corner and onto the duvets.

arms on the back, a large hand wrapped around your wrists to hold your limbs in the same position. ass held in the air with the help of erling’s strength, you already felt the exhaustion. from behind, his dick disappeared in your pussy, stretching the sore walls even further with the certain roughness of his thrusts.

tingles spread in your lower stomach, the feeling caused a wave of pain and pure pleasure. a fourth orgasm approached, another high that would lead to even further exhaustion. with dilated pupils, your gaze drifted over the side of the bed and found the black camera. a sex tape was what erling asked for, he never mentioned how much pleasure you would receive or the particular overstimulation he planned.

tongue, fingers, dick. you came around each. satisfaction for your body in ways, you could not describe. erling knew precisely what he was doing, the disparate ways to use his experience on you and assure you reached the climax. but he wasn't done with you. not until the camera captured your body in each position he loved.

a filthy movie, he could watch on repeat when his career lured him away from your shared home. pictures of the moment, erling would send you in the middle of the night, with his hand tightly around his dick. jerking off to the sounds you made right now, just on tape.

"you look so beautiful when you're completely messed up." the praising words slipped out of his mouth, between deep groans and hasty breaths. he was close, and you already switched between reality and the pure bliss of a fourth orgasm. "I can't take more.." you whimpered, your sore walls clenching around his hard dick repeatedly. close, again.

"almost there, babe." your hands were released as erling leaned forward. sweaty chest pressed against your back. calloused fingertips brushed the mess of hair out of your face, a soft kiss blown against the side of your neck. "give me one last." he whispered against the smooth skin underneath your earlobe. his voice, a raspy mess, cracking at the end of his demand.

in addition to the bruising pace, the tight grip of his large hand on the waist which would leave deep purple reminders of this particular night, his words were enough to push you into a fourth. lips parted, the mouth an o-shape, whimpers and moans spilled out of your mouth without a break.

walls tightly clenching around his dick, toes curling and the delicate fingers dug into the duvets underneath. the feeling of being wrapped up in your warmth, and the sight erling could admire close-up caused his high. a deep groan, your name rolling of his tongue, were the announcement of his orgasm. painting the insides of your pussy with white spurts, his forehead collided with your sweaty shoulder blade.

pants filled the bedroom, the smell of a long night of rough sex as the couple bathed in the aftermath of their orgasms. "i love you so fucking much." erling muttered against the sweaty skin, inhaling a deep breath and placing featherlight kisses around your shoulder.

"i love you too." you breathed out, trying to calm down from the intensity of orgasms over the expand of the entire night. "can you turn it off, please?"

erling's head snapped to the side where the bright red dot beside the camera lens still blinked. nodding as an answer to your request, he used his recovered strength to push himself off your warm figure and the comforts of the king-sized bed.

pressing a button on the device, the dot stopped blinking and the recording was saved for private use in the future. fleshy fingers brushed over his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat and clearing the strands of light blonde hair out of his face.

with an exhausted groan, you turned around to receive a more comfortable place on the bed. sprawled out, arms and legs stretched away from the body, you felt the aftermath of the long hours of relentless pounding. a sore feeling between the thighs, the arousal still running down the insides and staining the sheets underneath.

"i'm getting a cloth and warm water." erling reassured you before disappearing into the attached bathroom. filling a small bowl with water, and grabbing a soft washrag from the sink. in a hurry, he made his way back to the bed, where the love of his life lay.

an underarm over the closed eyes, you were almost asleep. the exhaustion made it difficult to stay awake while being unoccupied. rough hands caressed over the bruised thighs, the reminders of how his fingertips dug into your soft flesh from holding you tightly in position. "i will be careful."

dipping the cloth into the bowl, wringing out the redundant water, erling pressing the soft cotton cloth to the inside of your right thigh. wiping away the remnants of the last orgasm, a mixture of arousal and his semen. as soon as the rag reached your oversensitive clit, your hips twitched out of the way. any touch too much after the rarely faltering pace of his thrusts.

still, erling found amusement in your reactions. the knowledge that he was the one who did this to you, made you breathless and sensible to even the featherlight touch, filled him with pride.

"don't you laugh." you warned him when the quiet chuckle rang in your ears.

"would never do that, babe." he answered, a smirk dipped in smugness tugging on the corners of his mouth.

[dreamonseems]

could you write about y/n being the new mancity yoga instructor and erling blushing whenever she tries to help him stretch

Mango

Erling Haaland X Female Reader

Summary: Erling, hates yoga but doesn't hate the new instructor.

Erling had a sense of dread as the day approached for his weekly yoga class. He had never imagined himself as someone who would participate in yoga, and the idea of it made him uncomfortable. However, as a player for Man City, he was required to attend the class once a week as part of his training regimen. To his surprise, the team had even hired a new female instructor to lead the class.

Erling overheard some of the other players whispering about how attractive the instructor was, which only added to his discomfort. He found their comments to be shallow and foolish, revealing their inability to interact with women without judging them based on their appearance.

Despite his initial reluctance, Erling reluctantly showed up for the team's weekly yoga class. He found himself in the studio, surrounded by his fellow players, waiting for the new instructor to arrive.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a young woman in her early twenties rushed in, apologizing for being late due to traffic caused by an accident.

Everyone turned to look at her, and Erling found himself momentarily speechless. She was stunningly beautiful, and he felt a sudden rush of attraction towards her.

The instructor smiled warmly at them and introduced herself. "Hi everyone, I'm Y/N, and I'll be your new instructor," she said. "Let's start by standing upright with your weight centered on the balls of your feet. Inhale both arms to the sky with the palms facing each other. Exhale as you bend forward very slowly while keeping your legs straight."

Erling tried to focus on the instructor's instructions, but found it difficult to concentrate with her soothing voice and stunning appearance.

He couldn't help but think that he was starting to sound like one of his teammates, who had been swooning over her before the class even started.

Despite his initial reservations, Erling found himself becoming more and more intrigued by the new yoga instructor. As the class continued, he began to realize that there was much more to her than just her beauty.

Erling found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. To make matters worse, the new instructor, Y/N, kept coming over to him to help him with his positions. Every time she came near him, he felt his face turn red, and he found himself struggling to keep his thoughts focused on the task at hand.

Suddenly, Y/N appeared by his side and placed a hand on his hip. "Move your hips this way," she instructed, guiding him through the motion.

Erling tried his best to follow her guidance, but he was acutely aware of her touch and found it hard to control his thoughts. "Are you okay?" Y/N asked, her voice filled with concern.

Erling took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. "Um, yeah, I'm fine," he replied, trying to hide his embarrassment. He couldn't believe that he was getting so flustered over a simple touch from the instructor.

He was starting to feel like a complete idiot in front of his teammates, who were all watching him closely.

Despite his embarrassment, Erling continued to push himself through the class, determined to make the most of the experience.

Towards the end of the yoga class, Y/N came up to Erling once again to help him with his positions. As she leaned in close to him, he could smell the sweet scent of mango perfume emanating from her. He felt his heart race as she bent over right in front of him to help Grealish, and he knew that the other guys had noticed how agitated he was getting. He could hear them snickering behind him.

Finally, the class drew to a close and Y/N addressed the group. "You all did such a great job today, that's the end of our class for today. See you all next week!" she exclaimed, as everyone started to pack up their mats and towels.

But before Erling could leave, Y/N approached him. "Hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay during the class. You were looking a little red," she said, her voice filled with concern.

Erling ran a hand through his hair, trying to sound as normal as possible. "Yeah, I'm fine. You just worked me good," he replied.

Y/N smiled at him warmly. "Okay, as long as you're good. See you next class!" she said, before turning to leave.

But before she could go, Erling mustered up the courage to ask her out. "Hey, before you go, do you maybe want to have dinner sometime?" he asked, his heart racing.

Y/N turned back to him and smiled. "You work fast, Mr. Haaland. You're lucky you're one of my favorite players. I'll give you a chance, but I hope you don't disappoint," she said, teasing him.

She walked over to the whiteboard at the front of the studio, picked up a marker, and wrote down her number. As she bent down to pack up her bag, she made sure Erling was watching her, and then she left with a playful "call me."

Erling couldn't believe what had just happened. He knew that he was in trouble now - Y/N was going to be the end of him. But somehow, he couldn't help feeling excited at the prospect of what was to come. This was going to be fun.

[lydiamaya]

Football inspired major arcana tarot cards ^—^

I had a lot of fun making these and tried my best to fit them with what the cards actually represented.

Explanation on who's what card if you are interested in knowing —

0 – The Fool –> This card represents on the upright- innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit. On reserved it represents‐ holding back, recklessness and risk-taking. All of which I think perfectly describes Jack.

I – The Magician –> On the upright represents- manifestation, resourcefulness, power, inspired action. On reversed- untapped talents. All of these remind me of Hakim and also his nickname is perfect fit for this 😉.

II - The High Priestess –> Basically a well knowledged motherly character who often works in silence. Who other that Luka.

III – The Empress –> A blonde beauty who is holding everything together.

IV – The Emperor –> Authority, establishment, structure, a father figure, dominance. He is Pedri and gavi's dad, enough sqid.

V – The Hierophant –> Spiritual wisdom, religious, freedom, someone who comforts. See Olivier comforting Kylian, and you'll see.

VI – The Lovers –> Love, harmony, relationship, Soulmate.

VII – The Chariot –> Control, willpower, action, success, determination, self-discipline. The soul of the Manchester City team.

VIII – Strength –> Strength, courage, influence, compassion, raw emotion, self-doubt. Strength of the Manchester United team.

IX – The Hermit –> Soul-searching, inner guidance, being alone, isolation. The guiding light of Arsenal.

X – Wheel of Fortune –> Good luck, Karma, destiny, a turning point, breaking cycles.

XI – Justice –> I don't know, Eriksen just fit the vibe.

XII – The Hanged Man –> Letting go, new perspective. Joao to Chelsea saga.

XIII – Death –> Ending, change, transformation, transition, personal transformation. Jude being Dortmund's captain and the transformation of power from older generation to the newer one.

XIV – Temperance –> Balance, patience, purpose, self-healing. These two are perfect balance of old and new in Argentina.

XV – The Devil –> Shadow self, restriction, attachments. He is holding himself a bit in my opinion.

XVI – The Tower –> Sudden change, chaos, revelations, awakening, personal transformation. The departure of Messi and the entire future of Barça being pushed into their hands in a way.

XVII - The Star –> Hope, faith, renewal, purpose, self-trust. He is the hope and future of Dortmund and Germany.

XVIII – The Moon –> I don't Mason just felt right.

XIX – The Sun –> Positivity, fun,warmth, success, inner child, overly optimistic, vitality. This card IS Haaland.

XX – Judgment –> The bringer of Judgment Day against anyone they played.

XIX – The World –> Completion, accomplishment, personal closure, delays. This card is Messi personified.

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: second here's an erling fic idea. so as you know norway lost to spain in the euro's match, which means erling will obviously be dejected and quite depressed that his country couldn't make it, so what if his girlfriend takes advantage of the days before the premier league starts, and plans a sweet getaway for the two of them. (@findingnemosworld)

Word Count: 667 words

(author's note: i love writing about erling !!! thank you for another lovely request @findingnemosworld 🫶 im sure my haaland anon will like this as well !!)

International breaks were always difficult. However, the added pain of coming home, knowing your team hadn’t qualified, made it worse. 

Erling sat dejectedly in the changing rooms. The 1-0 loss to Spain meant Norway hadn’t qualified. He felt like he had let his country down. Checking his phone, he saw a text from his girlfriend that read:

‘So proud of you my love! You played amazingly, can’t wait to see you when you get back home <3’

He sighed. Erling knew she was just saying that to make him feel better. Although knowing she thought he played well made him feel immensely better. He said his goodbyes to his teammates and headed back to his hotel to pack his bags.

After the usual airport experience, Erling arrived back in Manchester. He got out of the taxi that had brought him home and knocked on the door of the house he shared with his girlfriend. The cold air of the UK nipped at his skin as he waited for her to open the front door.

Wrapped up in one of his hoodies, Y/N opened the door and threw her arms around her boyfriend. She knew he would be disappointed by the loss and she wanted to make him feel better.

Erling pulled his bags inside and closed the door behind him. His girlfriend looked up at him, her eyes full of sympathy.

“Go take a warm shower and then we can watch some television”, she told him, "It’ll make you feel better, I know you hate flying.”

He nodded wordlessly and moved slowly up the stairs. Erling undressed himself and stepped into the stream of warm water.

His mind was running through all the things he could’ve done differently. He felt fully responsible for their loss in his heart, even though his head was telling him he wasn’t. He finished up in the shower, got dressed, and walked downstairs to where Y/N was sitting down waiting for him. 

The girl opened her arms and gestured for him to come and sit with her. Erling crawled into her outstretched arms and rested his head on her chest. Y/N ran her fingers through his damp, freshly-washed hair.

“It wasn’t your fault, my love. Please don’t blame yourself. You’ll only make yourself feel worse.”

Erling sighed, his eyes stung with unshed tears, “I know, nydelig, I just can’t help but feel I could’ve played better."

Y/N sighed. Her heart hurt for the man she loved so dearly. Erling put his heart and soul into football, and she wished he would recognise when he had done his best.

The next few days were miserable. Erling moped around the house, barely speaking a word to his girlfriend. Y/N had decided to take matters into her own hands. She had booked a getaway to a cabin in a beautiful forest and was about to tell her boyfriend.

“Erling, honey?” She said, knocking on the door to his office. She let herself in, and her boyfriend took his headphones off.

“I have a surprise for you,” She told him, handing an envelope over to him.

“What is it?”

“Open it,” she replied, gesturing towards the envelope that was now in his large hands.

Erling gently ripped open the envelope that he’d been given. He pulled out the piece of paper that was inside and scanned over the text that was written.

“We’re going away?”

“Yes, I think it will be good for you to get away from football for a while and just get back to your normal self. It breaks my heart to see you upset my love.”

Erling got out of his chair and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend. He nestled his head into the crook of her neck and placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

“Thank you kjære, thank you for everything.”

The pair remained in each others arms for a while, grateful to have one another to pick them back up when things weren’t perfect.

[holygrailimagines]

Beautiful Boy

Summary: Erling and reader having a baby boy, fluff!

Author's Note: This fluff is inspired by John Lennon's Beautiful Boy. This piece is very different to any of my other writings, please tell me if you enjoy this style! Hope you enjoy!!

Close your eyes

Have no fear

The monster's gone

He's on the run and your daddy's here

You watched from your son’s doorway, smiling to yourself as your husband caressed him to sleep. Erling gently brushed your son’s blonde hair to the side and stroked his soft cheeks with his large hand. Sean’s matching blue eyes stared tiredly back up at his father, smiling lazily from under his blanket. The only way either of them could sleep peacefully was if they both spent time together before bed. It was routine, and perhaps the most perfect way to end the day. 

When Erling found out you were having a boy, everything in his life completely changed. He knew he had to step up and become the best man he could possibly be for the sake of his son. Sean wasn’t even the size of a lemon and Erling already loved him. 

You always had a feeling your little guy would be the biggest daddy’s boy. When you were pregnant with him, his little feet would kick like crazy whenever he heard his father’s voice. When Erling realized this, he became obsessed with speaking Norwegian to your belly. He would actually have full blown conversations with your womb, your baby boy responding with kicks. 

“He’s a Haaland alright,” He would say, kissing your belly. You smiled, already envisioning the pair of them running around and playing football together. Erling just couldn’t wait until your little guy arrived. 

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy

You had never seen Erling cry as much as the day Sean finally entered the world. You remembered being on the hospital bed with Erling and holding your newborn baby, tears streaming down your face. 

“He’s so beautiful, isn’t he?” You said through sniffles, looking up at Erling. He had tears of his own running down his cheeks. 

“Yes, yes he is.” He responded, his hand reaching down to softly caress his son's cheek.

Before you go to sleep

Say a little prayer

Every day in every way

It's getting better and better

Everyday that went by, your son looked more and more like his father. The only thing your son inherited from you was your love for Erling. You could actually see the way your baby’s eyes lit up whenever Erling came home. Even if your son couldn’t speak, it was so obvious he already loved and trusted his father. He would babble like crazy, communicating with his father the only way he knew how. Erling would smile so hard, responding to him in Norwegian. 

“Sier, pa-pa,” He would gently instruct your son. 

“No way,” you would interrupt jokingly, “he’s gonna say mama first.” The very next day your son would say his first word, papa. Erling was over the moon when he heard the word slip from his son’s mouth. He couldn’t even hide the tears streaming down his face as he held your son’s small head against his chest. 

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Beautiful boy

When Sean started walking, it was the beginning of everything. Erling set up a mini goal net and bought a small football. He would spend hours outside ‘playing’ football with your son, only really your son would just waddle behind him, trying his best to keep up with his father. It was cute watching your toddler follow your husband all over the place. Erling was such a gentle giant, doing everything he could to protect your son. He loved it whenever the two of you would show up to games with his jersey on. It made him so proud of the little family he made. He especially loved whenever you dressed your baby in a complete Man City uniform, it always got a kick out of him. 

Whenever the three of you would sleep together, you would always wake up first. It was perhaps your favorite thing, turning over and seeing your boys sleeping in identical positions. You would make sure to snap pictures before you woke them up with kisses on their foreheads. 

I can hardly wait

To see you come of age

But I guess we'll both just have to be patient

Even if little Sean was barely four, Erling was already obsessed with his future. What kind of man would his son become? Erling could picture him doing anything, Sean was special that way. Erling dreamt of his son following in his footsteps but he knew that if his son chose a different path, he wouldn’t hesitate to support him. 

Yes it's a long way to go

But in the meantime

Before you cross the street

Take my hand

Life is what happens to you

While you're busy making other plans

Even if he was excited for his son’s future, he was thankful for the long road ahead. He knew he had to cherish everyday with his baby before he became a man. Even if Sean could walk, Erling would never pass up an opportunity to hold him in his arms. No matter how tired he was, Erling always found the energy to play with his son. 

Even with limited speech skills, Sean was very vocal about what he wanted. He actively protested haircuts, clearly inspired by his father’s hair. Every morning you had to style your hair, Erling’s hair, and Sean’s hair. Sean was very observant, he did everything his father did. He ate the same breakfast, dressed identically, and even adapted his gestures. Erling was always so smug, admiring the way his son idolized him. Sometimes if he stared long enough at Sean, Erling would find himself tearing up. He was such a beautiful baby boy. 

“Goodnight Sean, see you in the morning,” Your husband whispered to your son, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. By now, Sean was fast asleep, his small chest rising with his deep breaths. Erling quietly stood from his bed and switched the lights off, meeting you at the door. You smiled up at your husband, as he softly closed the bedroom door. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he instinctively held your waist. 

“You know, I want a mini me of my own.” You teased, pecking Erling on the lips. He chuckled, looking down at you. 

“Then let’s make it happen.”

[whorekneecentral]

How about a "you know how long I've been hard" and scenarios 14-35 with Haaland 😳

hi babe, I actually only do two prompts per submissions so I did the phrase and scenario 14! // prompt: "you know how long I've been hard" + scenario: recording/filming (consensual) 

Erling had been away for a few days and he was already tired of not seeing your face; he had an idea on the way home but he wasn’t sure if you’d be up for it. That changed when his phone buzzed, the message from you popping up on the screen. 

To Erling <3: *1 Image Attachment* can’t wait for you to get home. 

You’re knelt in front of the mirror hanging from the closet door, wearing his jersey and baby blue panties to match. He can feel his cock twitch and all the filthy ideas spinning around his head. 

From Erling <3: don’t move, I’ll be home in 10 minutes. 

Your boyfriend was true to his words, the door slammed up and his bag landing with a thud, the man kicking off his shoes before running up the stairs to find you laying on the floor. 

He’s standing over you, looking down at you. “Hi beautiful,” his hand reaches for yours, pulling you with ease. You smile at him, arms around his waist. 

“Hi,” you stood on your tip toes to give him a kiss. His hand rests on your ass, giving it a pat. 

“I had an idea,” he starts and your brows furrow. “Last time you said that, I almost ended up pregnant.” You remind him, earning a smile.

“I know, but hear me out.” He says, his hands running up your side. “We’re gonna be apart again soon, so why not do something to remind me of you?”

“How would you forget me? I don’t think you’ve taken that many hits to the head.” You joke, it takes you a moment but you connect the dots. “Oh! You mean like -” 

Yeah,” he nods, his hand moving down to rest on your thigh. “What do you think?”

You pause for a minute, “okay.” You say, looking at him. Erling smiles, “really?” He asks, surprised you said yes.

“Why not,” you shrug, getting off his lap and sinking to your knees on the floor. “C’mon baby,” you push your hair back over your shoulders as you wait for him to get his phone and tug his pants down.

You looked up at your boyfriend, the phone in his hand but his eyes fixed on you.

You always looked so beautiful on your knees, today was no exception.

Erling’s knuckles brush over your cheek, “You know how long I've been hard?” He asks and you shrug. “Go on sweetheart,” he tells you, watching as you take his cock in your mouth.

Your boyfriend groans, his head tossed back a bit and his free hand reaching back to pull your hair up.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he mumbles, “god I fucking love you.” He rambles out, pushing you down on his cock, making you take all of him in your mouth.

You go for a while, your hands resting on his thigh, his hold on you softer now but he holds your hair back. He watches as you swallow, your eyes fixed on the camera, knowing when he watches it later on, it’ll be like you’re looking directly at him.

His thumb brushes over your lips when you pull off him, “so good for me.” He says, watching as you suck on the pad of his thumb for a moment before letting him go.

“Come up here, let me return the favour baby,” Erling helps you up, handing the phone off to you as he settles between your legs.

[canirove]

Erling Haaland Imagine | one

Author's note: Like happens with my Mbappé imagines, so far I’ve only shared my Haaland ones on Wattpad because that’s where I’ve been getting the requests, but since people are liking them so much, I thought about starting to share them here too 😊 The other day I posted some kind of masterlist with links to Wattpad, so some of you may have already read this, but I wanted to post it here for people who don’t have an account there, don’t want to open it, or just want to have these imagines archived somewhere. Hope you like it, and thank you for reading! 💜

Little summary: The request for this imagine was for something related to married life or a proposal and with a woman, so it is from a female pov.

Masterlist

"I am so cold. I swear I can't feel my toes."

"What? It wasn't that cold."

"Maybe not for you because you were running around and come from the North Pole. But I am not used to this, and was sitting on the stands doing nothing."

"You could always sit in the private area with the others."

"That's boring."

"Then don't complain about getting cold" Erling says, sticking out his tongue.

"Meh, meh, meh" I reply, rolling my eyes.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"To put on my pyjamas and the thickest socks I own. Maybe make myself a cup of tea."

"May I make it for you?"

"Aww, that's sweet."

"Anything for you, love" he says with a big smile.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Feeling better?" Erling asks me when I walk into the living room.

"Almost. Once I've had that cup of tea, I won't be feeling like a Frozen character anymore."

"You are such a drama queen" he laughs. "I still don't know how you survived when I took you home for Christmas."

"I survived because I was an onion."

"What?"

"Layers, Erling. I was wearing layers of clothing to not freeze to death, and onions have layers."

"Are you quoting Shrek?" he laughs again.

"Yes, I am. Can I go get that cup of tea now?"

"Of course, love" he says, taking a sip of his while trying not to laugh.

"Erling..." I call from the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"What is this and where is my tea?"

"What?"

"This" I say when I walk back into the living room, showing him my mug. "What is this?"

"Your favourite mug. The one I got you on our first date."

"Yes, I know that. But what is this?" I ask again, moving the mug so he can see what is inside it.

"I don't know" he shrugs.

"You don't know?" I ask, arching a brow.

"Nope."

"So whatever this is, it just randomly ended up on my mug, when you said you were going to make us some tea?"

"I guess" he shrugs again.

"Erling..."

"Why don't you check what it is?"

"Fine" I say, rolling my eyes and turning around my mug. "What the... Erling?"

"That's my name, yes. You are gonna wear it out if you keep saying it" he chuckles.

"Can you please stop being an annoying little shit and tell me what is this?"

"A box?"

"Yes. A ring box. What does this mean?"

"I..."

"Please don't say "I don't know". If you do, I swear I will kill you."

"Ok" he laughs. "Why don't you open it and see what is inside?"

"I'm pretty sure I know what is inside."

"Or maybe not. Open it."

"Urgh" I say, doing as he says. Inside the box, instead of finding what I supposed I was going to find, there is a little paper. "What is this?"

"Open it. Maybe it says something interesting."

"Interesting, yeah" I mutter, my hands shaking a bit as I unfold it.

"Can you please read it aloud? I'm a very talented man, but I still can't read minds."

"Ok" I say, taking a deep breath. "To my dearest love. Thank you. Thank you for choosing me to be by your side despite being a little annoying shit like you always say. Thank you for letting me share my life with you. For letting me love you. For loving me. You make me the happiest and luckiest man in the world. Though there is something that would make me even happier. Look down. What?" I say, looking down.

"My love" Erling says. He's kneeling in front of me, a beautiful ring on his hand. How did he manage to get there without me noticing? I call him a little shit, but he is not little. "My love" he repeats. "Would you marry me and make me the happiest man in the whole wide world?"

"Are you being serious?" I chuckle.

"Never been more serious. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Even if I'm constantly complaining about being cold?"

"Even so."

"Ok."

"Ok what?"

"I will marry you, Erling."

"Thank God" he says.

"Thank God?" I laugh. "Thought I would say no?"

"Honestly... There was a part of me that thought you would, yes."

"Well, that part of you was wrong. Because I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"May I, then?" he says, finally smiling.

"You may" I reply, offering him my hand.

"Perfect" he says, getting up after putting the ring on my finger. "Do you like it?"

"I love it, it is beautiful. But I can't believe you just asked me to marry you while I'm wearing my pyjamas" I laugh.

"They are my favourite ones."

"Really? They are Disney pyjamas."

"And they also are super soft. I love cuddling with you when you wear them" he says, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer to him.

"I didn't know that."

"Now you do" he smiles. "And to be honest, it doesn't matter if you are wearing your pyjamas, jeans or a Dior dress. You always look and will look beautiful to me, future Mrs. Haaland."

"Thank you" I giggle. "But wait, what if I don't want to change my last name?"

"Then you don't" he shrugs. "As long as we are together, I don't care about anything else."

"Aww, cute" I say, putting my arms around his neck. "I love you, you little annoying shit"

"I love you too" he says before kissing me.

[cainnleacghlovers]

Honey - MØ

Paring: Martin Ødeagaard x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arsenal have just been trashed by City, and all Martin wants to do is love on you. And who are you to deny your boy some cuddles and a bit of an old school recipe.

Warnings: None pure fluff!

Request: “Hi! may i request an imagine about reader taking care of Martin after he loses a match? just giving him attention, massaging him, cute fluffy things :) hope you like the idea 🥺”

⤥ I loved writing this!! I hope this is okay for you <3

As you sat at the table, the essay on Alexander the Great you were meant to be writing, was forgotten. Instead, your eyes were glued to the tv.

Why? A new show you just started and had to binge? Life changing news? No, and no.

Arsenal vs Man City.

You did try to watch the other players, but your eyes unconsciously followed Number 8.

As you watched the game become increasingly City’s, you could see Martin’s normal cool and calamity completely evaporate.

He was fumbling on balls he could dribble in his sleep, he was making dodgy crosses into the box, one’s that didn’t find the boot of a forward.

“Not a fricking forward on the entire pitch!” You exclaimed, as yet another cross by Martin was out over the goal line, and cleared for a goal kick.

As Emerson passed the ball, and it found the feet of Haaland, a boy you were actually quite fond of.

Him and Martin are actually teammates for the Norwegian national team, and he genuinely was a lovely boy.

But in this moment, you’d never hated anyone more.

“Get that frigging ball off of Haaland or god help me, i’ll bust the balls of all of you.” You said, hands finding your hair as he calmly taps the ball in.

What’s this, his 300th goal of the season?

As the match ended, and Jack Grealish scored, or Greasy as you liked to call him, you actually turned the tv off.

“If I wanted to watch something depressing, I’d have put the bloody news on!” You said, before the tv flashed off, you made sure to put both fingers up at the tv.

A habit you’d tried to break.

If something was pissing you off, you flipped it off. The tv was no exception.

“Fuck off you fricking oil laundering club.” You scoffed, getting up.

“And your kits ugly.”

—

Deciding to pop Martin a message, you reached for your phone. You knew he was going to be devastated by the result.

Martin was the most selfless person you’d ever met. He did everything for everyone, and took the burden of everything. He’d blame himself for this loss.

‘Martin there were 10 other boys on that pitch, you can’t blame yourself.’ You’d say, like routine when they lost. ‘And I should’ve done something about them.’ Martin would reply, like clockwork.

Typing a quick message, you hit send.

As you looked through the cupboards of your kitchen, you heard ‘strip that down’ playing from your phone.

You smiled lightly at the inside joke between you and Martin. He found the Liam Payne video, hilarious, and you set it as your alarm to ‘annoy’ him, but really, you just wanted to hear his laugh.

By the way, it’s the most beautiful sound, like ever.

Unlocking your phone, you read his reply.

You smiled at the message as you read it. Only Martin, who’d just lost a game, and would soon, if he wasn’t already, dealing with the hundreds of negative comments he’d get, ask you if you needed anything.

You quickly typed a reply, as you reached for the flour.

As you searched the cupboard for your recipe book, one that your mum had given you when you moved into your own first Uni apartment. Finding the book, you looked for the pink tag.

Aha! Everything brownies.

It’s something you and your brother had concocted one year after Christmas, and it became a family tradition. Every single piece of chocolate went into that mixture. It was pure heaven.

When you’d first met Martins parents, you’d made them. And ever since, they’ve been a favourite of his.

As you began to melt chocolate and butter over the hob, you heard the familiar sound of ‘strip that down’.

Looking at your phone, you read the message Martin had sent you, and sent a quick reply back.

Mixing the melted chocolate with the beated eggs and sugar, you mixed it with the flour as you poured the mixture out onto a baking sheet. Leaving half of it.

This is where the fun began.

Scouting the cupboards, you took out every piece of chocolate you had.

Kitkats, M&M’s, Caramel Buttons, Smarties, Maltesters, and Crunchies.

Satisfied with the amount of chocolate, you reached for your secret ingredient. Honey.

Martin could never figure out what the secret ingredient was, and you’d never tell him.

He’d guessed everything. Maple syrup, vanilla extract. But he just couldn’t get it.

Pouring the rest of the mixture over the brownies, you placed them in the oven. Forgetting a timer, they’d be done when they’d be done.

—

Putting a towel over the heater in the bathroom, you made sure he had enough shampoo. You headed into the bedroom to change the sheets.

You’d explained to him Thursday night. Shaving legs, tanning, and new bed sheets. He wasn’t convinced, saying Thursdays were just ‘filler days’. But once you’d made him shower (He didn’t need to shave his legs, and boy were you jealous. You literally had more hair on your leg than he did.) and got into bed with new sheets, he completely understood where you were coming from.

—

Checking the water heater was on, you checked the brownies and decided they were good enough. As Martin let you know he’d be home in about five minutes, you quickly ran to unlock the door, knowing that his hands would be full.

You searched the freezer for ice cream, and eventually found some, scooping some onto a plate with the brownie, that was still warm. As you did, you heard the key in the door, and quickly ran to it, so he didn’t lock himself out.

You opened the door, and there stood the beautiful boy you called your boyfriend.

His blonde hair was every which way, and he didn’t even have his shoes tied properly. One leg of his trousers was up at the knee, and if his blue eyes weren’t so sad, you’d have laughed at him. He gave you a watery smile, before the door closed and he collapsed into your arms.

“Martin you’re okay.” You soothed, running your fingers through his hair, as he hid his face in your shoulder. The both of you still standing at the door.

“I let everyone down.” He mumbled, his voice shaking with sadness as you felt your heart break.

“No no. You haven’t let anyone down honey. Not a single person.” You said as you calmed him, pulling him towards the sofa.

He wouldn’t meet your eye, and it broke your heart that he was embarrassed.

“Martin.” You said softly, prompting him to look at you.

His sad eyes met yours, and you yourself nearly burst out crying.

“Please listen to me.” You said, as you inched closer to him, taking his cheeks between your hands as you rubbed small circles on them. His hands rested on your thighs, as he craved your warmth.

“You seriously don’t know how talented you are, and it breaks my heart that you think one bad game defines you as a player. Martin, it doesn’t. Okay?!”

He sniffed, as his head fell into your chest, and your hands continued in his hair.

“I feel like I could’ve done more-” You put your finger over his lips.

“Shut up.” You said, smirking slightly at him. You hoped he understood the humorous route you were taking here.

Your heart skipped a beat when he smiled.

“You’re telling me to shut u-” You didn’t even let him finish this time.

“Shut up.” You repeated, as a tired laugh left his lips.

“N-” He began, before you covered your ears with your hands.

“Lalala! Sorry Martin honey, where you saying something? Wait, let me lip read. Oh! You’re saying you’re a talented player, and it’s okay to not score like 6000 goals every match! I totally agree!” You joked, making him laugh as he pulled your hands away from your ears and brought them to his lips, placing a kiss on them.

“Say it.” You teased, poking him in the side.

He shook his head, clearly flustered. He still, after 4 years, wasn’t used to people complimenting him genuinely.

“Say it. Say it.” You chanted, as you began to poke his sides. He moved away from you as he laughed.

“Don’t make me fight you Ødegaard, because I will do it. I’ll go full-” You stopped to think of a boxer, but couldn’t. He laughed at you, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, as he pressed a light kiss to your forehead.

“When are we fighting?” He joked along.

“Right now. Unless you’re too scared.” You continued with the banter.

“Please. I’m going to squash you as much as City did to us.” He smiled weakly at the joke.

His strong thighs, which were tense from the game, rested on either side of your waist as he leaned over you. His hands snaking up your body to find your armpits. Before you could even think, he began to tickle under your arms.

As his hair stuck to his forehead, you kicked at his legs as you strangled to breathe from the amount of laughing you were doing.

“Martin, I will literally kick you in the balls.” You managed to breathe out, as his laughter stopped and he looked you in the eye, his hands finding your thighs.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He said, his eyes moving between his crotch and your foot.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“You’d miss them too much.” He smirked.

“Hmm true enough.” You shrugged, as he attacked your beck with soft, warm kisses and you sighed in content as you played softly with his hair.

“Do you want a brownie?” You whispered, and his eyes instantly met yours.

“I think I just had an orgasm at the thought of your brownies.” Martin replied, making you laugh.

“Too bad I didn’t make any though. It was a rhetorical question.” You joked, getting up, with Martin entangling his hand with yours.

You picked up the bowl, and handed it to him, and smiled sheepishly as his stare intimidated you.

Not that what he done scared you, it was just, no one had ever looked at you like you were there everything, like if they lost you, there heart would beat a little slower, and there eyes would see a little less colour.

“You, my love, my baby, my darling, are bloody amazing.” Martin punctuated, kissing you with every word. You laughed at the way he said ‘bloody.’

He insisted on learning your slang, he called it the ‘Y/N Studies.’ He joked it was the only thing he’d ever got an A in.

Lies, he was a goody two shoes at school.

—

As you flicked through the tv, heart racing a bit when you heard the bathroom door open and Martin stood there with a pair of shorts on and his wet hair clinging to his forehead.

He stalked over to the bed, and Martin being Martin, jumped on top of you.

“Martin I cant breathe!” You struggled, as his body weight crushed yours.

“Just keep breathing and breathing!” He sung, and you laughed. Martin loved to love you, and that meant all of your interests. So, he learnt the songs you sung in the shower, one being ‘Breathing’ by Ariana Grande.

“Don’t be such a smart ass.” You whined, as you shoved him off of you.

“Don’t objectify my ass. It has feelings too.” He pouted, as he moved in closer to you, his head resting upon your chest.

Your hands moved through his wet hair. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d have scolded you for making his hair ‘greasy’ but he didn’t have the energy.

“I’m sorry if I let you down.” He whispered against your chest, as you felt his arms grip your waist.

“Martin baby, you let no one down. You ate today.”

You hoped he’d get the joke of ‘ate’ and ‘8’, ad luckily he did, and you felt the vibrations of his laughter against your chest, contrasting the slow beating of your heart. One that beat for him.

As Martin slowly began to close his eyes, you bit your lip, debating whether you should say it.

“Martin.” You said lightly.

“Hmm.” He replied groggily.

“It’s honey.” You said, a smile on your face as he realised what you’d said. He gasped, and looked up at you,

“That’s almost as bad as plankton getting the Crabby Patty Formula.”

God, you loved Martin Ødegaard, all of him. Even his silly little comments and bursting into song.

He was your number 8, your person, your boy.

Kind of disappears… whoops but i’m back babyyyy. Getting through some Ødy requests because our blonde barbie deserves more recognition! Hope you enjoyed!!

[pavardscherie]

hi love, could you write something about erling haaland being obsessed with the reader?

little touches, erling haaland

pairing erling haaland & reader

summary: erling is obsessed with you.

izzy talks;

i have to say, i love pavard with all my heart. i love writing about him, and yet, i’m quite happy to write about someone else for once, haha. for this one, i changes female reader to the you perspective :)

it’s a little drabble, so nothing too long.

it didn’t matter where you were or who was around.

erling always had to have his hand on your body. fingers caressing over the exposed arms when you wore one of his favorite dresses. a muscular arm wrapped around your waist while talking to friends. his large hand on your thigh while watching a movie or going out for dinner with a couple of his teammates.

those small glances filled with jealousy, and a certain promise to possess you later on, when another man decides to put his dirty fingertips on you. a touch, a moment, they weren’t allowed to share with his precious little thing.

compliments. small ones that made your tummy turn into a swarm of butterflies. the cheeks tainted by a cherry red color, erling could never get enough of the bashfulness on your beautiful face.

introducing you to new people, friends or teammates, erling always had to assure to emphasize the word my or mine. already stating from the very beginning that you were completely off the table, taken and untouchable for any other person. doesn’t matter if male or female.

hands intertwined when walking through the streets. small kisses to the cheek, to the back of the hand or blown gently against your forehead. small gestures that turned out to become a routine for erling.

over the past months of being in a relationship with the football player, you turned out to be his greatest addiction. seconds of not being able to touch you while you were so close to him tortured the blonde painfully.

but when the referee blew his whistle, announced a short break or interruption, erling found a way to at least send you a wink or a wave, while seated between the manchester city fans. small gestures, the team would joke about in the end but the talented striker didn’t care about it, as long as he was able to show you his admiration.

you were his first thought in any situation. after scoring a goal, and celebrating with the fans, the addiction of feeling your pillow-like lips against his own led his body straight towards you in the stands. his coach cursed about another yellow card, he received for leaving the pitch.

but erling shrugged it off, unimpressed by the spoken threats of sitting on the bench.

while you admired the small gestures of admiration, the obsession almost turned into a sick possessiveness. at least that was the exact word the newspapers and media used to describe the constant clinging to each other. a certain, unexplainable neediness.

it’s like erling had nothing else inside of his head. emptiness spread until the one necessary, and important thought was found.

you.

[millythegoat]

how do you let PALMER score a hat trick. that man has got net zero aura -_-

at least brighton got another one, tho...hopefully they can beat chelsh*t

IKR!!! 2 of his goals are absolute beauty! The wee lad is very clinical! Like- Haaland clinical it's scary! That 30 yard goal is ridiculous!

[dreamonseems]

King Haaland Part 2

Erling Haaland X Female Reader

Summary: Reader is brought to Norway as a slave, and King Erling buys her.

If you guys have any requests for this series, let me know in the comments or send me a message!

Ok, so I'm using Google translate for the Norwegian language, so if you speak, I'm sorry if it's not the proper way of writing it, lol.

Also, I am so happy you guys have been liking this series! Thanks for all the love, guys!

"Kom, liten en, for å sove,(come little one time to sleep)" King Haaland beckoned, hoisting me over his shoulders. Confusion and panic welled up within me, causing me to stammer out, "Wha... what?!" Seeking reassurance, I turned to Celine, desperately hoping for some clarity.

"You will be fine. King Haaland is a good man. He won't do anything to you that you don't want. You're just sleeping in the same bed, that is all," Celine assured me, offering a small, comforting smile.

As King Haaland strode down the hall, carrying me like a sack of flour, my heart raced with a mix of trepidation and a flicker of hope. He kicked open a massive wooden door adorned with intricate carvings and gently placed me on the floor as he closed it behind us.

Taking a moment to survey the room, my eyes wandered over the grandeur it held. A large bed, a wardrobe, and a trunk caught my attention, while weapons adorned the walls alongside cozy animal furs. The juxtaposition of comfort and danger left me unsettled, yet I found myself drawn to the bed, curiosity compelling me to poke at its softness.

"Fortsett å legge deg ned,(go on lay down)" he commanded, breaking my reverie. Startled, I turned to face him. "What? You do remember I do not understand, right?" I blurted out, a surprised squeak escaping my lips. Standing before me, he stood naked, his physique a testament to his strength and the intricate Viking tattoos adorning his powerful frame, are beautiful. Clearing my mind of such distracting thoughts, I quickly regained composure and focused on the immediate issue at hand.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and I quickly covered my eyes. "Where are your clothes?" I demanded pointing at his clothes, my voice tinged with exasperation.

Confusion clouded his face as he looked down and burst into laughter. "Vi skal sove. Jeg trenger ikke klærne mine, lille,(we are going to sleep I do not need my clothes little one)" he chuckled. I felt my frustration deepen. "I still do not understand," I confessed, my brow furrowing in confusion.

He gestured, making signs for sleeping, pointing at his clothes, and then signaling "no." I deduced that he meant he didn't wear clothes to sleep. But how was I supposed to sleep with him naked?

He sat down on the bed and pulled me towards him, pointing at his hair. It was as if he was instructing me to undo his braids. Tentatively, I climbed onto the bed, positioning myself on my knees. With hesitant fingers, I began to unravel his intricate braids. As I finished, I ran my fingers through his hair, untangling any knots. A satisfied moan escaped his lips, which both surprised and unnerved me.

I swiftly withdrew my hands, realizing the intimacy of the act. In my haste, I lost my balance and began to fall, but Haaland's swift reflexes caught me, preventing my descent. I found myself perched on his lap, his deep gaze fixed upon me.

"Vær forsiktig, lille,(Be careful little one)" he whispered, his eyes holding mine with intensity. At this close proximity, I couldn't help but notice his true handsomeness. He looked young, his features softened, and it occurred to me that perhaps he wasn't much older than I.

Despite this realization, I pulled away from him, retreating under the furs and signaling my desire to sleep. He chuckled and shook his head, retreating to his side of the bed. There were no unwanted advances or intrusive touches. He simply lay down, closed his eyes, and left me to find solace in the comforting darkness.

As I nestled myself beneath the furs, a wave of relief washed over me. In this moment, it seemed that everything would be alright.

The enigmatic King Haaland respected my boundaries, and a glimmer of hope emerged, whispering that perhaps this unexpected journey held more than just fear and uncertainty.

As the morning light illuminated the room, its soft beams dancing upon the walls, I slowly became aware of my surroundings. The weight of the previous night's events still lingered in my mind, intertwining with the present reality. King Haaland, a figure both captivating and mysterious, sat on the edge of the bed, his presence commanding attention.

The room seemed to hold its breath as our eyes met. I felt a flutter of vulnerability, unsure of how to navigate my next move. His gaze, though inscrutable, held a certain tenderness that belied his formidable stature. A blush crept across my cheeks, and I instinctively looked away, momentarily unable to meet his penetrating gaze.

"God morgen, lille,(good morning little one)," he spoke, his voice a deep and melodic rumble. The words, foreign and yet strangely comforting, hung in the air. I gathered my courage and met his gaze once more, searching for any clues to his intentions. There, amidst the enigma of his eyes, I detected a glimmer of kindness, a flicker of understanding. It was a stark contrast to the tales of Viking kings I had grown up hearing—ruthless conquerors with hearts as cold as the winter seas.

"M-Morgen,(Morning)," I stuttered, attempting to speak his language, my voice barely above a whisper. I worried about my pronunciation, fearing that my words would fail to convey my thoughts clearly. However, his slight smile reassured me, as if he understood the meaning behind my imperfect words. It was a gesture of acceptance, a gentle acknowledgment of my efforts to bridge the gap between us.

As the sun ascended higher in the sky, signifying the start of a new day, I found myself seated beside King Haaland, partaking in a morning meal. The feast before us was a display of abundance, with an array of fruits, freshly baked bread, and hearty meats. My stomach churned with a mix of hunger and apprehension, unsure of what this shared meal meant for our newfound relationship.

Haaland ate with a measured grace, his movements fluid and controlled. There was an air of discipline and strength that emanated from him, a testament to the rigorous training he undertook as a Viking king. As he finished his meal, he stood, signaling his departure to engage in his daily training regimen. With a nod to me, he left the room, his figure exuding an aura of power and determination.

Left in the company of Celine, the day unfurled before us like a tapestry waiting to be woven. Together, we embarked on a series of chores and tasks that had become our daily routine. Yet, amidst the mundane tasks, Celine took it upon herself to teach me the intricacies of the language spoken by King Haaland and his people.

Words flowed between us, both foreign and familiar. Celine patiently guided me through the pronunciations, the grammar, and the nuances of the language. With each lesson, I felt a growing connection to this new world, a sense of empowerment as I began to grasp the means of communication in this foreign land. It was as if the words themselves were bridges, spanning the divide between my old life and the one I now found myself in.

Throughout the day, we moved from one chore to another, the sound of laughter occasionally punctuating the otherwise quiet atmosphere. As I swept the floor or tended to the hearth, I absorbed every piece of information Celine imparted, eager to grasp the intricacies of this culture and its language. It was a way for me to find my footing in this unfamiliar realm, to understand the customs and traditions that governed the lives of those who called themselves Vikings.

With each passing moment, I grew more adept at stringing together coherent sentences, my tongue beginning to mimic the inflections and cadences of the language. It was a small victory, a glimmer of progress in a sea of uncertainty. And as the day gave way to evening, I found solace in the fact that, step by step, I was inching closer to understanding the world that now enveloped me.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks transformed into a month, my life within the halls of Haaland's kingdom settled into a rhythm that felt strangely comforting. Each night, I would find myself in the embrace of sleep, sharing the same bed as the grand Viking king. The initial apprehension had dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity and trust.

Mornings began with the sunlight peeking through the windows, casting gentle rays upon the room. Haaland would rise from his slumber, his presence commanding, and his gaze warm. We would gather for breakfast, sharing meals that were no longer marked by tension or unease. It was during these shared moments that I realized Haaland's true nature, one that defied the expectations often associated with kings.

Throughout the day, my hours were occupied by a myriad of tasks and chores. From tending to the castle gardens to assisting in the kitchen, I immersed myself in the daily workings of the kingdom. Celine remained my steadfast companion, guiding me through the intricacies of the language spoken by the Viking people. Together, we navigated the complexities of grammar and vocabulary, piece by piece unraveling the secrets of their linguistic world.

However, it was during one of our conversations that Haaland revealed a surprising truth. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he confessed that he understood and spoke my language, albeit to a limited extent. He had learned it in secret during Celine's early days as a slave in his kingdom, he started practicing it more when I was brought here. It was a testament to his intelligence and curiosity, a demonstration of his desire to bridge the gap between us.

As the days turned into nights, Haaland proved himself to be a benevolent ruler, respectful of my boundaries and wishes. He possessed a playful spirit, often engaging in lighthearted banter and jests, effortlessly dispelling any remnants of fear or apprehension that may have lingered. It became clear that beneath the hardened exterior of a Viking king lay a compassionate and understanding soul.

Haaland's linguistic prowess extended beyond my own language. Through his interactions with merchants and travelers from distant lands, he had acquired fragments of various tongues, becoming a polyglot of sorts. This revelation only deepened my admiration for the king, highlighting his thirst for knowledge and his willingness to embrace diversity.

In this dance of languages and cultures, my world expanded. I found solace in the fact that despite our differences, Haaland and I could communicate and connect on a more profound level. The barriers that once seemed insurmountable crumbled, leaving room for understanding and companionship to flourish. Within the halls of the kingdom, I discovered not only a king but a man who defied expectations, captivating me with his intellect, his kindness, and his capacity for growth.

Today, an unfamiliar emptiness greeted me as I awoke in the vast expanse of the bed. It was a stark contrast to the usual routine, where King Haaland would patiently await my awakening, eager to embark on our shared breakfast ritual. Uncertainty gripped my heart as I made my way through the echoing corridors towards the grand feast hall.

As I neared the hall, the clamor of raised voices pierced through the air, causing me to halt in my tracks. Haaland's commanding voice reverberated against the walls, sending shivers down my spine. My instinct was to retreat, to remain hidden and observe from the shadows. With bated breath, I peered around the corner, my eyes widening at the scene unfolding before me.

"Finn den hesten og bring ham til meg!(find that horseshit and bring him to me)" Haaland's words thundered through the hall, his frustration palpable as he directed his words towards Gunnar, Knut, Sven, and Balder—his most trusted warriors. Their determined nods indicated their compliance as they swiftly exited the hall, leaving Haaland seething in his own discontent. In an outburst of rage, he lashed out, his foot connecting with a nearby chair, shattering it into pieces.

My heart skipped a beat as I involuntarily flinched at the sound of destruction. In that moment, Haaland's piercing gaze pierced through my hiding place, his eyes locking onto mine. "Forlat meg!(leave me)," he bellowed, his voice echoing through the hall, the words stinging like a verbal blow. Feeling the weight of his anger directed towards me, I turned on my heels, fleeing from his presence.

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, my heart heavy with a mixture of confusion, hurt, and disappointment. Haaland's outburst had shattered the delicate equilibrium that had been established between us. The realization that he could unleash such fury upon me left me feeling vulnerable and betrayed. Yet, I refused to let my emotions consume me. With every ounce of strength, I willed myself to be resilient, to hold back the tears that threatened to betray my true emotions.

Steeling myself against the pain, I pressed onward, reminding myself of the strength that resided within. I refused to let this sudden shift in Haaland's demeanor define my worth. With each determined step, I vowed to remain steadfast, even in the face of uncertainty and unspoken questions that lingered in the air. I would find solace within myself and seek understanding in due time.

As I retreated to the solitude of my chambers, I allowed myself a moment to collect my thoughts. The once familiar walls now seemed to close in around me, suffocating me with their oppressive silence. I longed for the comforting presence of Celine, but she was nowhere to be found. It appeared that I was truly alone in this bewildering turn of events.

Resting my trembling hands on the edge of a table, I closed my eyes, attempting to steady my racing heartbeat. Haaland's anger had struck me deeply, leaving me questioning everything I had come to know about him. Was his previous kindness merely a facade? Or was there something more beneath the surface that I failed to comprehend?

As I battled with my inner turmoil, a soft knock on the chamber door startled me. Tentatively, I approached, hesitant to face whoever stood on the other side. Slowly opening the door, I found myself met with Celine's concerned gaze. Her presence brought a flicker of relief amidst the storm raging within me.

"Y/N, I heard what happened. Are you alright?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.

I struggled to find my voice, but eventually managed to utter, "I... I don't understand. Why did he... why did he yell at me like that?"

Celine sighed, stepping into the chamber and closing the door behind her. She gently placed a hand on my shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Y/N, you must understand that Haaland's temper is as fierce as his loyalty. He carries the weight of his responsibilities heavily, and at times, it spills over onto those around him. It was not directed at you personally."

Her words provided some solace, but the ache in my heart remained. "But why did he tell me to leave? What did I do to deserve such treatment?"

Celine looked at me sympathetically, her eyes filled with empathy. "I believe Haaland's outburst was driven by frustration and an overwhelming sense of pressure. He didn't mean to hurt you, Y/N. Please remember that."

Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to spill over the dam I had painstakingly constructed. "I just don't know how to face him now. How can I trust him after this?"

Celine's grip tightened, offering me the strength I desperately sought. "Trust takes time, Y/N. We all have our flaws and moments of weakness. Give him the chance to explain, to make amends. Remember, there was kindness in him before, and there may still be kindness within him yet."

Her words echoed within me, resonating with a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished. Perhaps this was a test, a hurdle we needed to overcome to forge a deeper connection. With renewed determination, I wiped away my tears and straightened my posture.

Later that night, the room was immersed in darkness, with only a faint glimmer of moonlight filtering through the window. My body lay tense on the bed, entangled in a web of conflicting emotions. The events of the day weighed heavily on my mind, casting a shadow of dread over the chamber.

In the midst of my restless slumber, I sensed his presence before I saw him. Haaland's figure materialized, his silhouette cast against the dimly lit room. He moved with a familiarity that was both unsettling and comforting, his steps echoing through the silence.

My eyes fluttered open, and I pretended to be asleep, hoping to gather my thoughts before confronting him. I felt the mattress yield under his weight as he settled beside me, the faint scent of Mead wafting through the air. His voice, tinged with a mix of regret and vulnerability, broke the stillness.

"Are you awake?" he inquired softly, his voice carrying a hint of apprehension. I remained silent, my heart pounding in my chest, uncertain of how to respond.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, his frustration evident. The warmth of his arms enveloped me, drawing me closer to him. Anxiety coursed through my veins as I wrestled with my conflicting emotions.

"I am sorry, little one. I did not mean to yell at you. Please forgive me," he implored, his lips pressing gentle kisses against my forehead. His apology hung in the air, laden with a sense of sincerity that tugged at my heartstrings.

"Why?" I found myself asking, my voice barely above a whisper. His admission caught me off guard, my curiosity piqued.

"I have a traitor in my ranks, selling my secrets. The frustration got the best of me," he explained, a mixture of weariness and determination coloring his words.

I let out a frustrated huff, my anger mingling with understanding. "Fine, I understand. Just... don't do it again," I conceded, my tone softening slightly. Despite my lingering annoyance, a sense of empathy welled within me, recognizing the burdens he carried as a king.

He chuckled, his laughter resonating through the darkness. "Yes, little one. I promise," he vowed, his voice laced with sincerity. A shy smile tugged at the corners of my lips, his presence somehow managing to ease the tension that enveloped us.

"Now, go to sleep. You're drunk," I teased, attempting to lighten the mood. His laughter filled the room once more, mingling with the soothing rhythm of his breath.

"Yes, you are quite fiery tonight," he jestingly remarked, yet his hold tightened around me, pulling me closer. As sleep claimed him, I found solace in the safety of his arms, an unexpected warmth radiating through my being.

That night, as slumber claimed us both, I found myself nestled in the king's arms for the first time. Unbeknownst to me, an ember of happiness ignited within my heart, signaling the possibility of a deeper connection. In the midst of uncertainty, a glimmer of hope emerged, weaving together the delicate threads of forgiveness, understanding, and the potential for a future intertwined.

Part 3

[soccerwag]

If your comfortable with it could you write Erling Haaland x reader

Them being together for a long time and having a teen pregnancy so now they have a little girl (you can choose how old she is) so maybe paparazzi seeing Erling picking up a little girl that looks exactly like him and Erling getting questioned about her on his interview

-✨

Yes I hope you enjoy it🫶🏼 sorry it was a bit rushed I have work soon.

Little haaland

Pairings: haaland x reader

Summary: when paparazzi catch a photo of haaland with a little girl that suspicious looks just like him even after years of successfully hiding his daughter from the media

Warnings: none just fluff

——————————————————

Me and haaland have been dating since we were 14. We met in school through our shared group of friends. Of course at that age it was just young puppy love. We did things like go roller skating together and went on little dates to parks. I met his family when we turned 15 and he met mine. Both of our families loved our relationship, they loved how well we got along and how we made each other happy.

When we turned 16 things changed slightly. We began to become sexually active and stupidly didn’t use protection. I found out I was pregnant a month later. Our families were really disappointed in us, not only for being so reckless but also for throwing away our teenage years by investing in adult activities. For a while our families distanced us. We weren’t allowed to see each other, hangout alone. My parents were decently supportive, just not supportive of our relationship anymore. They didn’t trust us.

2 months before I turned 17 I went into labor. Haaland turned 17 the weekend prior. It was painful and all I wanted was for him to be here with me through it. I was cooking breakfast when I felt the cramps and I thought I peed myself. I called my mom and she called my dad and they were then rushing home. When they got home they kept trying to help me. My mom talking about how I can make it through this and how she’s was going to be there in the room with me. I don’t know what happened but I flipped. I told her I wanted haaland, not her, not my dad, just haaland. All they wanted to see was me comfortable so against their own wishes they called haaland’s family and he was there in a matter of minutes with his family.

He held my hand through the birthing process, stroked my head, did everything he could to make this experience more bare able. When I first heard our daughters cry I broke down. I was happy but worried and scared that I wouldn’t be a good mom, not at my age. I was wrong

That night haalands parents and mine let him stay with me. They observed how we interacted and how well we took care of our daughter. That was the night they decided that they’ll let us be together again, but with a few rules that included no sleepovers and no alone time in rooms together without the door open. I didn’t mind the rules I was just happy to have him back and to be a family.

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Fast forward to now. Our daughter is currently 6. She looks just like haaland. The golden hair, blue eyes and beautiful lips. Haaland had pursued him dream of becoming a football player. He currently plays for man city. We decided to keep our daughter out of the public eye for her safety and for the privacy of our family as a whole. Nobody knew about me either. I wanted our family to enjoy being a family without social media know everything about us.

“Hey beautiful, can I take alïah to meet my teammates today?” Haaland asked. I’ve been avoiding letting her go out with him during the day. I know he really wants to and I know he’d protect her but it just scared me. I was hesitant until our daughter came running in.

“I want to meet daddie’s friends!” She squealed with a huge smile. My heart melted and even though I didn’t really like the idea I agreed.

Haaland immediately grabbed alïah and took her to her room to get her dressed. He put her in an outfit that matched his. I found them so cute, I even snuck a picture of the two. He kissed me goodbye and reassured me that everything would be alright.

————————————————————————

Haaland’s POV

I was so excited. I finally get to show off my baby girl to my mates. I got her out of the car at the training center. I quickly walked her in, in hopes to keep her out of sight of other people.

When we got in all the guys turned around, some gasped, some just stared.

“BRO SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU.” One said. I just smiled. She started to giggled as I put her down and everyone came up to talk to her. I’ve been waiting for them to meet her for so long and I’m glad they loved her.

After about an hour or two of them interacting I decided to take her home. When we got in the car I look at her through the mirror.

“Did you have fun sweetie?” I asked her with a gentle smile.

“Yes daddy! I want to see the big men a lot more.” She said excitedly with a huge smile.

I was glad it made her happy. On the way home she fell asleep. When we got home I picked her up and took her inside before putting her down to sleep.

“Hey lover boy.” Y/n said as I walked back into the living room.

“Hello beautiful.” I said giving her a kiss.

“How did it go?” She asked with a smile.

“It went great! They all loved her.” I said with a smile back.

Before we could say anything our phones started to blow up. I took out my phone and saw news reports of me and alïah. When y/n saw I saw the panic across her face.

“It’s ok beautiful, everything is ok.” I told her reassuringly.

I then went on instagram, me and alïah were all over it, when I went to the comments a smile crept on my face.

“Everyone loves her honey, they’re calling her beautiful and even saying she probably has a beautiful mom.” I told her before showing her. I saw relief spread across her face.

“I agree she does have a beautiful mom.” I told her before giving her a kiss.

“You know maybe it won’t be bad if we announce our family on social medias.

“You me and our little haaland.”

[trentskis]

yeesss. very proud of our team and while it would have been awesome to win, a draw keeps us reallyyy close to the top. today we showed once again that we can play beautiful football like those runs from lucho??? beautifuuuuul.

yeah, it's sad we couldn't wisely use all of those chances but damn, at least they were there. Mo coming in completely changed the match and i loved it.

and oh my god i truly forgot haaland was playing 😭 he completely disappeared in the second half and i genuinely thought pep had taken him off. City had the upper hand with some of our main guys still injured or only recently coming back from their injuries but they still couldn't win 🥱

overall, proud proud prouuud of the team and we got another kelleher masterclass. i love you my dearest irish man.

we can do this, everyone! ♥️

lucho was excellent today i just feel so bad for him that he had so many good chances that couldn't be finished 😭 but he is just unreal at dancing around players and holding onto possession, he is like magic to watch and i love him so much

i was honestly so surprised at how little impact their "star players" (de boobs, xl bully, haaland etc) had, also thought it was weird josep started all of them when it probably made more sense to sub one of them on as a super sub? but anyway im thankful for his bad decisions❤️

caoimh was brilliant!!! so so so proud of him and how he has taken his performance up so many levels, he has been unreal! we can defo still do it ynwa ❤️❤️