#iker casillas imagine

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐍 ✮ PEDRI

summary. your boyfriend loves you more than yesterday but less than tomorrow.

warnings. none just pure fluff. i’m so glad my starboy is back.

gabri speaks! listened to iman by maria becerra and it’s so pedri coded. had to write this immediately.

the herd of sweaty players heading through the tunnel to their respective locker rooms was a surreal sight. this was the biggest assignment you had gotten in the three years of you working for a sports journalism column. obviously you knew your boyfriend had a hand in the big step and often received sly remarks from the coworkers you had never gotten along with because of it. luckily for you, you had never been one to undermine yourself or listen to the comments of others.

there was also your boyfriend who would constantly read your pieces out loud and compliment you on your endless knowledge of the sport and plethora of creative words. it was like having your own personal editor. you yearned for the nights before his breaks where the two of you would cozy up in front of the tv revising your works in progress.

“why can’t you ever write about me like this? actually why can’t you write about me period?” he would whine with his flushed cheeks making a special appearance.

“i don’t write about you because they only have me covering the scandinavian leagues.” you said matter-of-factly.

“just tell them you’re dating me.” he would always say.

you never did but with the spanish press it was inevitable that your relationship would see the light of day. your world had flipped instantly and you found yourself on the next flight to germany. it took you a lot of reassuring words to help you understand that you deserved to be there. your boyfriend didn’t write your pieces for you, you did, you were the important figure. so, there you stood with a mic patiently waiting for the player you’d be interviewing to show up.

your co-worker had failed to mention who you’d be interviewing which had you scrambling for various questions to ask. you were fortunate to have an extensive vocabulary for different positions so you were sure that no matter who you’d be talking to your manage to make them comfortable. when you’re met with incredibly pink cheeks you realize why your cameraman was so giddy on the walk towards the tunnel. they were making you interview your own boyfriend.

“live in one!” your cameraman yells loud enough for everyone to hear.

“you’re such a dick!” you quietly scold pedri who’s currently smirking at you.

“you wouldn’t have done it if you knew.” he shrugged and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes because it was true.

you notice the cameraman counting down from three and quickly regain your composure. it’s fascinating for your boyfriend seeing how well you hide your affection for him. this is the first time he’s ever seen you in action and it’s quite mesmerizing the way the lights make you glow and how well you speak. somehow with all the chaos surrounding you two and the sweat dripping off his forehead you’re more beautiful than ever. it must be because you’re in your element he thinks.

“croatia has really done a great job of keeping the ball outside their box, do you think you guys will be able to break through?” you move the mic towards him waiting for an answer.

“of course i mean my connection with rodri is just working super for well for us i think we’ll be able to advance through the midfield more in the second half. modric will not make it easy but that’s why we’re here, to stop him.” he pants.

“lamine has been excellent throughout the first half how do you plan on using him to improve the play?” you scramble to say as time is running out.

“well lamine is excellent with the ball i think he’ll able to get us far into their zone. it’s really a team effort. he’s probably ecstatic right now and that’ll definitely help us.” he answers.

“thank you pedri. good luck in the second half.” your words contain honesty and you give him the most sincere smile.

“thank you, hermosa.” he compliments you on live television.

you want nothing more than to slap him but his hands around your hips take you by surprise. his lips are so close to yours and you immediately forget the camera is still rolling. it’s a quick peck but it’s a kiss nothing less. it’s your turn to display your flushed cheeks. in the blink of an eye he’s gone and you’re left alone to deal with the aftermath. you hear your coworkers tease you through your earpiece and the cameraman is currently laughing at you. you’re quick to redirect to the anchors back at headquarters. that night you and pedri make headlines for your performance in the tunnel.

[hugollorizz]

so my cousins came over and over dinner one of them casually mentioned iker casillas being... dead

long story short, somehow they thought casillas died like three years ago and haven't been enlightened to the fact that he isn't since??? and that's quite funny to me i'm ngl like imagine just thinking someone died for three years only to have your cousin tell you no what the fuck over a slice of watermelon like... bless

[swaggypsyduck]

Ramos in PSG gives off babygirl vibes and I'm so here for it

as a long time ramos enjoyer imma be bias and say ramos has always been babygirl. look up him interacting w luka modrić or iker casillas in real madrid. actually look him up just being the most cuddly kissy evil babygirl capitain ever.

but ur right in that at psg he's a lot more mellow. i think part of it is cuz he doesn't have to defend against messi anymore LOL. imagine thinking u've gotten rid of ronaldinho and now u have to deal w messi (i say this as a madrid supporter those mofos had us STRESSED). he's also close to retirement as much as it pains me to admit so he's definitely not working at the same lvl he was in the past. although in recent games ive seen my lil villain pop out again so that's nice to see

[bluesourkiwi]

No matter how much people try to convince you about Sergio x Fernando, remember Sergio x Iker is better 👁️👁️

It literally said that Ramos made so many kissing pics with Casillas making fangirls go crazy sjgbdksks

And I am not kidding Sergio is exactly like what I imagined him to be I think I sort of know what kind of athletes u root for

+ I learned that Iker had a horrible fashion sense and he got his twitter hacked once

[writingreadingdaydreaming]

Iker Casillas using a Madonna song… I knew you were just as cunty as I imagined you to be 🥲

[fatladybones-blog]

The Legacy and Dominance of the World's Most Famous Football Club

Title: The Legacy and Dominance of the World's Most Famous Football Club

Introduction

Football, the beautiful game, has captured the hearts of millions around the world. Among the myriad of football clubs that have graced the pitch, one stands head and shoulders above the rest in terms of fame, success, and global recognition: Real Madrid. Founded in 1902, this iconic Spanish club has not only redefined football but has also become a symbol of excellence, capturing the imagination of fans worldwide. In this article, we'll delve into the rich history and unparalleled achievements that have made Real Madrid the most famous football club in the world.

The Birth of a Legend

Real Madrid Club de Fútbol was founded on March 6, 1902, as Madrid Football Club. It wasn't until 1920 that King Alfonso XIII granted the club the title "Real," which means "Royal" in Spanish, making it officially Real Madrid. This royal recognition was just the beginning of the club's meteoric rise.

Los Blancos: A Glittering Legacy

Real Madrid's white jerseys, often referred to as "Los Blancos," have become synonymous with the highest level of football. The club boasts an unrivaled trophy cabinet with a record number of domestic and international titles. This includes an astonishing 34 La Liga titles, 19 Copa del Rey titles, and numerous UEFA Champions League trophies, with the club having won the competition a record 13 times.

One of the most iconic periods in Real Madrid's history came in the 1950s when they fielded the legendary team known as the "Galácticos." This era featured footballing greats like Alfredo Di Stéfano, Ferenc Puskás, and Francisco Gento, and they left an indelible mark on the sport.

The Galácticos era saw Real Madrid capture five consecutive European Cup titles from 1956 to 1960, a feat that remains unmatched. The club's commitment to attacking football and success on the international stage ensured their place as one of the most celebrated football clubs in history.

Icons and Legends

Real Madrid has been home to some of the greatest footballers to ever grace the pitch. Names like Zinedine Zidane, Cristiano Ronaldo, Raúl, and Iker Casillas are etched into the annals of the sport's history thanks to their contributions while wearing the iconic white jersey.

The Impact Beyond the Pitch

The influence of Real Madrid extends far beyond the football pitch. The club's "Galáctico" strategy brought a level of glamour and international attention to the sport that was unprecedented. The Santiago Bernabéu Stadium, Real Madrid's iconic home ground, is a footballing temple that attracts millions of visitors every year.

Real Madrid's brand extends to merchandise, endorsements, and sponsorships, making them one of the wealthiest clubs in the world. They are also renowned for their commitment to social and community projects, underlining their importance in Spanish society.

The Future

While Real Madrid's history is undoubtedly illustrious, the club's commitment to maintaining its status as the most famous football club in the world continues. They consistently invest in top talent and remain a force to be reckoned with in both domestic and international competitions. Whether it's La Liga, the Copa del Rey, or the Champions League, Real Madrid remains a formidable presence.

Conclusion

Real Madrid's rich history, unparalleled success, and global appeal have made it the most famous football club in the world. With a legacy that stretches over a century, the club continues to inspire and captivate football fans around the globe. Real Madrid is not just a football club; it's a symbol of excellence, a testament to what can be achieved through skill, dedication, and a relentless pursuit of greatness.

[penguintransporter]

When in Porto (Iker Casillas one-shot)

Hello everyone! It has been a while, and I feel like I owe an apology to everyone who waited for my anxious, antsy and awful ass to post something, whether requested or not. I was thinking on posting maybe something lengthy, regarding to why I disappeared and all that, but who really cares, no? Anyway, this is an Iker Casillas one-shot, inspired by watching a documentary on his career recently. I used to have a massive crush on him, back when I was younger, until Fernando Torres came along. Anyway, hope you enjoy it, tell me if you like it because support is what motivates me. P.S this is set in 2016 :)

****

A soft murmur of the language that was unknown yet similar to his own gently mixed with  muted jazz music and the sound of cutlery meeting plates. The sound vibrated throughout the fairly small, but with the sun bathed restaurant. It was close, yet hidden away from the Ribeira, and if he leaned slightly, he could see the gentle blue of Douro River through the chipped and scratched windows. The indoors were painted in various shades of petroleum blue, matching with the recognisable blue tiles on the floor, and chairs similar to Carl Hansen’s.

Not that Iker knew a lot about Carl Hansen’s chairs in the first place, but his ex used to buy Elle decor, and he had a habit of leafing through the magazine while he ate his breakfast before his morning training.

“Isso é tão bom,” his teammate Sérgio muttered - mouth full with bacalhau, and head shaking in delight. Sergio took another bite before he even finished the previous one. 

Iker couldn’t blame him - his own plate was almost empty despite the fact that the food had arrived barely fifteen minutes ago.

“Spanish please,” Hernâni grinned, leaning back in his Carl Hansen’s chair look alike as he took a sip of his water from a tall glass, “goalie cannot understand you.”

Iker stifled a laugh. “I can,” he responded - his chuckle turning into a soft smile, “but I’ll stick to speaking in Castilian. You’ve heard my Portuguese and it is not something to be proud of.” 

His teammates laughed, remembering the night from a few weeks ago when Iker decided to hold a speech in Portuguese at a charity event at his new club but ended up making a fool out of himself.

They settled in a comfortable silence and he looked down at his plate and the last piece of fish, resting in a small pool of creamy sauce. 

Hernâni straightened his back - his movement breaking train of Iker’s thoughts. 

“Shall we give our thanks to the chef?” he asked, nodding to himself and almost immediately raising his arm in the air in order to call over someone - not waiting for Iker nor Sergio to respond. “This used to be something else, no?” he added absentmindedly, trying to catch the attention of a tall and lanky kid who was clearing the tables. 

“A wine bar,” Sérgio replied quickly. “I went there once or twice with my girl.”

“Was that before or after the season?” Hernâni mocked, finally making eye contact with the kid who, upon realising at whom he was looking, widened his eyes and nervously twisted the kitchen towel in his hands before hurriedly walking towards their table in the corner of the room. 

Ten minutes later - their empty plates piled on top of another, they fell into comfortable silence. Almost everyone who was there for lunch had left and the soft chatter and cutlery sound got replaced by the murmur of young waitresses behind the bar, until the swinging doors of the kitchen opened and a figure stepped out. 

Iker was the first to meet her eye, and in the same moment as he felt Hernâni nudge his leg under the table, he also felt his heart skip a tiniest beat.

As a professional footballer, Iker had travelled a lot and had seen many beautiful women around the world. He had dated some of them, shared his life with only a few and once he left Spain he swore that he needed some time for himself, still feeling a certain vulnerability surrounding him. Yet, when she walked out and made her way towards them, Iker felt a shiver run down his spine like a trickle of sweat at the nape of his neck just before the penalty. 

She wasn’t a type that would most likely be a cover of the magazine, but he was far from someone who judged someone’s attractiveness based on that fact. Maybe it was her composed face and a slight worry hidden in her eyebrows or maybe it was her hair that was cut short - both for practicality and proof of courage, he assumed. Or maybe it was the fact that despite her lack of height, she still carried an aura of authority. 

As she stepped in front of them, she brushed her hands against her black apron. “Antonio told me you wanted to speak to me?” she spoke, seemingly confident, and Iker, as if jabbed with the finger in his side, twitched. He could recognise the accent and the melody of her Portuguese. “I hope everything is…” she stopped, glancing at their empty plates, “...or was fine with your food?”

Her Portuguese was better than his own, that was for sure.

“No, no, no,” Hernâni reassured hurriedly as Sérgio nodded in agreement. “We wanted to meet the person who is responsible for the best fish I had in awhile.” 

“Bread was lovely too,” Sergio quickly added. “Obviously not like mother’s food, but nevertheless amazing.”

“Thank you,” she responded - the Spanish melody coming out of her yet again. “And I agree, nothing beats mom’s food.”

Iker was quiet, observing; the curve of her nose, a small birthmark under her left cheek and the way corners of her mouth were slowly moving upwards as nodded at whatever Sergio told her. With each second, she seemed to be more relaxed - the autocratic demeanor she carried out of the warm and chaos-packed kitchen disappearing almost completely. 

And he liked it.

As if she noticed him looking at her, she looked back - a pleasant smile on her face. “And you? You didn’t like your food?” she asked in a Castilian Spanish and Iker smiled at her. She knew who they were; who he was.

“Of course,” he nodded, “cannot compare with Elkano, but close enough.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she responded, “even if I think I am miles away from being as good as Elkano.” Her eyes fell to her shoes before looking up again at his teammates.

“We are definitely going to recommend your place to everyone,” Sergio offered and Iker could notice a slight redness appear in her cheeks.

“Actually,” she blushed even more as she spoke, “I have a bunch of boys and girls doing their culinary training program in the kitchen right now. It would be enough if you could join me there and maybe talked to them for a bit,” she paused, looking back at the kitchen. “I know they are fans, and I’ll make sure you get some desert for free afterwards.”

**

Once all the pictures were taken and clatter of pots and pans, and calling for orders was replaced with laughter and excitement of talking to known athletes, Enea retreated to her working station to finish what she had started when Antonio came into the kitchen - flustered and stuttering, talking something about famous “footballers and the best goalie to grace this world” wanting to talk to her. 

And not any footballers, and definitely not any goalkeeper.

Before he even approached her, Enea anticipated it. Subconsciously or not, she couldn’t say it.

Who wouldn’t?

It was one thing to see him on the screen, dressed in his kit, but having him just a few steps away - it blew her away. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was? Yes, he was handsome, even more so than on the pitch, but Enea was more drawn to his quietness, the way he observed and listened to her every word and the simplicity of his voice. 

“So, how come a Spaniard ended up in Portugal?” he asked as soon as he approached. 

Enea, surprised by the smoothness of his question, refused to look up at him. Instead, she picked up some fruit from the woven basket in front of her. 

“I could ask you the same,” she smiled a little. Although she wasn’t shy by any means, having Iker towering in front of her working stations, made her throat tighten. “I am Enea,” she added quickly.

“Basque?” 

“My father was,” Enea paused, knowing what she was about to say, “my mother is from Móstoles, so is my grandfather. It is very close to Madrid.” She glanced up at him, watching him process her answer. After all, they were from the same pueblo.

Iker’s eyes went wide and his lips formed with surprise. “Have you ever lived there? Have we met before? I am from Móstoles as well.”

Enea found his rambling attractive, more so than his calm demeanor, but she quickly shook her head. “No. We moved to Estella when I was only one year old. Went back as a teenager, but I believe you were already in Madrid.”

“I see,” he replied, taking a step closer, leaning lightly on his elbows and getting comfortable and eye-level with her. Enea had a hard time not to stare at him, but yet again - who could blame her? “Football fan?”

Enea tried to hide her blush as Iker raised one of his eyebrows.

“Well, it is not like you played in the third division,” she quickly responded, meeting his eyes for a brief second before focusing again on the fruit. She grabbed a few oranges and picked up a cantaloupe, aware that her hands were getting sweaty and that Iker was still looking at her with an amused smile on his face. Suddenly, the back door opened, scaring Enea and making her drop the large fruit. She squinted, waiting for cantaloupe to hit the floor but Iker’s reflexes were faster, and before she could blink, he already had it in his large hand. 

“Here,” he murmured, unphased as Enea blinked. 

“Yep, definitely didn’t play in the third division,” she breathed out as she took the fruit, and as cliche as it was, felt something as their fingertips touched. 

Their eyes met yet again and she would probably have stared at him for a long time if it wasn’t for one of his teammates calling out for him. 

“Enea,” he started, straightening his back, “I am rarely this straightforward… call me traditional for all I care, but I would like to see you again. Outside your work.” Enea was quiet, clutching at the cantaloupe, afraid that she would drop it again. “We are playing Benfica this weekend, and I could put you on the list, if you’d like?”

“No,” Enea replied, slapping herself mentally when she realised how it came out. Iker’s whole face changed and she widened her eyes. “I mean, no for the list, but yes for a drink afterwards. Kids,” she pointed at her eyes towards her trainees, “bought me a seasonal ticket for the club.”

Iker laughed, rubbing at his chin in embarrassment. “Then, a drink after the match?”

“Yes, I’d like to,” Enea replied softly - finally putting the cantaloupe on the working station. “I anyway owe you a desert, no?”

Iker grinned, running a hand through his hair before replying. “I will be looking forward to that.”

Enea blushed, but he already turned around, walking away, not catching the red color spreading across her cheeks.

[thomas-mvller]

The good

The bad

The ugly

[nandosniguez]

”El Niño ⚽️ — As Fernando Torres celebrates his birthday today, see who he chooses to make up his Ultimate XI 👌“

LFC via Twitter | 20.03.2020

[xmilitao]

We disappointed our dads 😭😭

[nenenando]

Anybody have fic/blurb requests?

Thinking about starting to write for the football fandom. I’ve written one story already.

Open to doing players together or with female OCs. Just let me know what you guys want!

@sergiosfc @footballffbarbiex @avsensio @diersbaby @footballconfessions @ftballfangrl @southgateandthelions @kylewalker-peters @deletomydier

[addc10]

I want to live in the alternate timeline where this happened.

[fedepool]

imagine having iker casillas, fernando torres AND xabi alonso on the same team. wow.

[footballandshit]

As a Barcelona supporter, I feel ashamed to see that Puyol made to join the joke that Casillas made,today he and Iker died for me, since they think it's funny to joke about a serious subject like football players coming out in a sexist and mainly homophobic sport

This is why the world deserves more players like Josh Cavallo and less like them

I absolutely understand how you feel right now, I feel the same too. Those who have followed me from the beginning, you'll remember how I supported ik*r and how highly I thought of him in the past, especially with his tremendous contributions, loyalty and commitment to real madrid.

Their actions completely erased the struggles of the lgbt+ community, making a joke of it, in fact. As Josh correctly pointed out, it's just beyond disrespectful. Imagine how hard it was for Josh to come out while still being an active player. Many could only do it once they have retired or have removed themselves from football because of how toxic and homophobic the environment is. And although Josh received a lot of support from other sport figures and organisations publicly, his comments are constantly filled with homophobic comments. Even when the whole ik*r-p*yol thing turned out to be "joke", people flooded their comments with f-slurs and so much hate, some even laughing along with p*yol after realising that the statement wasn't serious.

Imagine the effect of this on individuals in sport communities who are still closeted? And now they're hiding behind the 'i got hacked' excuse. Admit your mistake, learn from it, grow to be a better person, and advocate for lgbt+ rights. Is that too much to ask?

It took years for us to be where we are now in terms of equality and inclusivity in football, and we still have a long way to go. These two grown-ass men just pushed us like 10 years back with their irresponsible "joke", maybe even more tbh.

And i just wanna reiterate: we can just keep cancelling homophobic celebs but the homophobia doesn't get cancelled along with it

[thebluesideofmyworld]

White - Iker Casillas drabble

30 Days Creative Writing Challenge - Day 2

Author’s note: 1. This is part of a 30-day creative writing challenge that I am doing. Each piece of writing will have different prompt. 2. Prompt for Day #2:  Write 250 words inspired by the color of the walls in the room you're in.

Wall color: White (Well I am still working in my lab while I was doing this so unsurprisingly I was surrounded by white walls)

There was this line that Iker remembered from a poem that he read when he was younger.

White is for purity, innocence and joy.

There were other lines, talking about other colors. But somehow that line was the one that stuck in his mind for years.

And when he gazed around the room, beautifully decorated with white lilies, daisies and roses, the line came back, flashing in his mind.

Purity.            

What they have is a love so pure, like the white clouds in a summer sky.

Innocence.

The light in her eyes was always so soft, and warm with kindness and innocence.

Joy.

And today is the day of a perfect joy. A day that never really crossed his mind before he met her.

Iker stood still, waiting with a heart that was beating like crazy. Until she finally showed up.

Suddenly everything started swirling into bright and colorful shapes. But the only thing that he could see was her, as gorgeous as always, in the white dress.

Warm tears started forming at the corner of his eyes and he had to cover his mouth, trying to keep himself together. He didn’t even know whether he was still breathing or no.

She walked closer, until she finally closed enough to take his hand.

Once her hand was in his, his world finally became a completely perfect one.

White is for purity, innocence and joy.

And white is for the love that they shared for the rest of their life together.

[penguintransporter]

Click below for some reading material, if you want to 💗💗

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