#man city imagine

[libraryofloveletters]

Hallways Hold Our Secrets

Jack Grealish x Fem!Reader

Warnings: reader is rodri's sister, secret relationships, jack is sooo nervous, they're terrible at hiding their relationship, big brother!rodri, awkward family dinners, alcohol and the consumption of, some cheekiness from jack and some brotherly teasing from rodri.

Word Count: 3.9k

Author's Note: I cannot believe it took me so long to write jack. also shout out to pooks for the basis of this idea + this gif has literally nothing to do with the fic. jack is just sexy that's all (also look at my other mans in the corner even tho I be wanting to beat him up sometimes)

---

The message pops up on the top right corner of your laptop, you're certain it appeared on your phone as well but you're hoping he doesn't notice it.

Can I call you?

You click on it, typing back a response; I'm with him. Can it wait?

His reply comes just as fast; Just for a minute, I wanna hear your voice.

You shut the laptop, leaving it on the kitchen table. "Just gonna borrow this for a minute," you tell your brother as you grab your phone off the counter; he had been using it to get the recipe for dinner tonight since his was charging.

Rodri smiles, nodding. "Sure."

You disappeared around the corner, clicking the contact that frequents your call log. It barely got rang twice before he answered.

"Hi love," he sighs, as if he had dropped down to the couch. You smiled to yourself, leaning on the wall in the hallway. "Hi you."

"I miss you," he says, the words tugging on your heart. You could imagine the pout on his lips; coincidentally, also his favourite pose when he takes selfies.

"I saw you today, Jack." Your response comes out as a whisper, not wanting to be overheard.

"I know, is a man not allowed to miss his girlfriend?"

Once again, his words bring a smile to your face; girlfriend. That's what you were, even if it was a secret.

"You are," you smile.

Jack sighs, picking at his cuticle before he speaks again. "I wish you were here, I could use the company."

Man City had faced their first loss in a while. After being on a winning streak and the return from the treble winning season, this one hit them especially hard. To lose at home was even worse, it dug into them, rightfully so.

All of the boys were in a bad mood, Pep digging into them about what went wrong didn't help either. You had waited outside of the locker room in hopes of catching a quick moment with your boyfriend but he walked out with your brother who was more than ready to leave.

"Hermanita! Come taste this!" Rodri shouts from the kitchen and you sigh. "Me too, but another time, okay? I have to go."

"Yeah," Jack sighs, "I love you."

"Me too," you smile, hanging up before slipping your phone into your pocket. You walked into the kitchen, a smile on your face as your brother held the spoon out to you.

You tasted it, nodding. "It's good, needs a bit more pepper though."

"I thought so too," he nods in agreement, adding the rest of the chopped peppers that were sitting on the counter. "Where'd you go?" He asks as you return to your spot at the kitchen table.

"Needed my hair tie," you fib and his brows furrow. Your heart pounds in your chest when you notice his look, praying he didn't over hear your conversation. At the moment, it didn't occur to you that you had taken your phone with you and your lie made no sense.

"Your hair is untied."

"Yeah," you nod, "I couldn't find one."

Rodri nods, dismissing your words as he goes back to dinner, trying to finish up the last of it. Eventually he joins you at the table, your brother sits across from you, picking at the leftover pasta on his plate. "So, are you seeing someone ?"

You freeze, nearly choking on your juice. "What? Why would you ask me that?" You rubbed at your chest, looking at him with what you were certain was a confused look.

He shrugs, stabbing a piece of pasta. "You're 25, done university.. just seems like time to move on."

Your brother's displeasure with the last guy you dated was not something that he hid very well. He was a grade A douchebag, snotty and stuck up; when you look back, you wondered how you put up with all of his nonsense. You two dated from your second year of university up until right before your graduation.

During your last semester of university, you had taken a week off and came down to visit your big brother in Manchester. The break up was getting to you and it seems like everything around was a constant reminder of your wretched ex.

Rodri had taken you along with him to one of their home games, having you watch what your big brother does up from the stands as if you were 12 again, and afterwards you had gone down to find him and meet some of his teammates.

That was the first time you met Jack.

The two of you clicked instantly; a match made in heaven. From your personalities, to your sense of humour, to the way you dress and down to the way you texted were identical. You suited each other to a T.

It seems you two figured out as much as you went from not knowing each other to speaking every single day after you left Manchester.

Your older brother was aware that you and Jack were friends, but he didn't think much of it. He saw that you got along with quite a few of his teammates, which made him very happy.

What he didn't know was that you and Jack were more than friends.

Jack had come down to visit you during one of your off weeks. He didn't mention it to Rodri nor did you. The two of you decided that it would be your little secret until you've finished university and you can decide what to do from there.

It was just easier this way, there weren't any complications or strings attached if you decided to split up at the end of your semester.

You didn't realize that you'd find yourself in Manchester nor did you expect to fall in love with the midfielder so quickly.

Nodding, you clear your throat. "I will."

"I'm just happy you're over him, he was shit." Rodri says, clearing the table. You can't help the laugh that you let out, leaning back in your chair.

---

Match day; your favourite day.

The Etihad was full from top to bottom, the crowd cheering their names, hoping that the team brings home a win. To nobody's surprise, they managed to bring home a win and four points.

You had gone down, waiting for your brother as they got cleaned up after the game. You were taking a photo of their treble wall, all the photos of them smiling and celebrating with their trophies.

The familiar scent of his cologne makes you smile, you can hear his footsteps and you figure he'll appear next to you, not pinch your hip and scare you.

"Dude!" You jumped, swatting his hands away. Your boyfriend smiles, his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

"It's just me, relax," he whispers, chin on your shoulder. As the words leave his mouth, you melt against him; you can feel the warmth from his body, the mix of cologne trying to mask the sweat from 90 minutes on a pitch usually disgusted you but with him, it was tolerable.

Jack spoke, pulling you from your thoughts. "What are you doing out here?"

"Taking a picture," you lifted your phone to show him, flipping the camera to take a photo of the two of you. Both you and Jack make his favourite face; that duck face and then another one with you two smiling, and one more of him kissing your cheek.

His fingers mindlessly drumming against your stomach, looking at the photos on the wall when you snapped back to reality.

You weren't in your little bubble of safety with him; anyone could see you, your brother could see you.

It seemed unreal that you were 25 and still sneaking around, hiding your relationship from your big brother but it would be easier if you weren't dating his teammate.

You stepped away from Jack abruptly, the man's brows pulled together and there's a confused look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Someone could see us," you step further away, creating some distance from the two of you. Jack looked even more puzzled than he did before.

"And that would be the worst thing because.." He trails off, looking at you. You roll your eyes, leaning on the wall as you look at him. "You know, 10 would look much better on you." He nods towards your jersey, there's a cheeky grin on his face and you roll your eyes yet again.

You had worn your brother's jersey, as you do most match days. "16 looks perfectly fine on me, thank you for your input."

"You'd look sexy in a plastic bag, babe. Just saying 10 would be better on you."

You don't get a chance to answer, your big brother comes around the corner. His hand rests on Jack's shoulder, patting it firmly before slinging it over his shoulder.

"What's going on here?" Rodri looks between you two and you shake your head. "Just saying hello to your sister," Jack says, smiling at his teammate.

Rodri hums, nodding as he glances between the two of you. "Did y/n ever tell you about that chocolate cake she makes?"

"No," Jack shook his head, "I don't think so." - A total lie. Jack has had that cake so many times before and you had even gone as far as giving him the recipe, which was a secret.

"Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow? I'm sure y/n won't mind making it, would you?"

You shrug, "yeah I don't mind, but I'm sure Jack has plans."

You glance between your brother and boyfriend, wondering what the sudden dinner invite was about. It wasn't that Rodri and Jack didn't get along, because they did. It just struck you as odd because it's not one of the guys Rodri typically hangs out with outside of work related events.

"I don't," Jack smiles at you. "I'd be more than happy to come over. Should I bring something?"

"No, man. Don't worry about that, come over for 8."

"Sounds good," Jack nods, smiling as he walks off.

You look at your brother, arms folded over your chest. Your eyes narrowed on the man, trying to figure out his motive. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Rodri asks and you nod towards Jack. "The dinner invite."

"I can't invite my teammate to dinner?" Rodri's brows furrow, looking back at you.

"You can. Just find it odd, considering that you and Jack aren't close like that."

He shrugs, "just felt like having some company over. Other than your ugly face of course." There's a smile on his face as he looks at you. You pinch his side, the man pulling you into a headlock as you two walk down the hallway.

---

Shirt covered in butter, flour and eggs and you had finally put the cake into the oven to bake. Your phone buzzes once on the counter as you tidy up. It buzzes again, then again and again.

Finally, you set the rag down and walk over to check who it was.

From Jack: Babe!!!

From Jack: I'm freaking out bro

From Jack: I don't know what to wear

From Jack: *1 Image Attachment* Should I wear this??

The series of messages left you confused, as did his outfit choice. Jack had sent you a photo of the ugliest Gucci shirt he owned and there were quite a few of them in his closet.

To Jack: That is the ugliest shirt I've seen in my life.

From Jack: That's fucking rude

To Jack: Also why are you freaking out?? It's just dinner.

From Jack: Can you please just come help me??

To Jack: I have a cake in the oven

From Jack: So ??? Please come. It's an emergency.

You sigh, walking down the hallway to your brother's room. You knocked, waiting for them to answer before you peek into the room.

"I ran out of sugar and I need it for the icing. I'm gonna run to the store, can you keep an eye on the cake? It's got a timer running so just take it out when it's done."

Rodri nods, trying to make up his bed "Sure, don't be too long. It's almost 7."

"Yeah, I'll be back soon." You picked up his car keys off of his dresser. "Love you!" You called as you walked out of the room.

"Drive safely!" He shouts back and the front door slams shut.

It was a 15 minute drive to Jack's place, the elevator ride up felt like longer and you tumbled through your purse to find the key Jack had given you to his apartment.

"Where are you?!" You shout, setting your bag on the table, kicking your shoes off.

"Bathroom!" He calls back and you find your way to the bathroom. Jack's back was to you, shirtless and quite tanned for a guy living in Manchester. You find yourself leaning on the wall, watching as your boyfriend tumbled through one of the drawers for something.

Jack chuckles, "I can feel you staring."

"So?" you smiled at him when he turned to face you. "I can't stay long, so what do you need help with?"

He walks over to you, his arm looping around your waist. "I can't kiss my girl hello?" He asks, leaning into you. His cologne overpowering any other scent, the familiar smell made your head spin.

"You can," you smiled, holding his jaw gently as you kissed him. "Okay come on though, let's pick something out." You hold his hand, pulling him back to his bedroom.

Jack sits on the bed, watching as you search through the closet for something for him to wear. "I really don't understand why you're so freaked out for dinner. You've had dinner with Rodri before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but at work stuff. This is different."

"How so?" You set a few choices on the bed. "I'm sure he's gonna be in sweats, Jack. No need to stress yourself out."

Jack looks over at you, "yeah but he invited me to his house. You're my girlfriend and he's your big brother. Even if he doesn't know, I want to make a good impression."

"That's sweet, now put this on." You smiled, handing him a forest green short sleeved button up you pulled out of the depths of his closet.

While Jack was getting ready, you searched through the drawers for a shopping bag you were sure he had left around. When you found out, you tumbled through his cupboards for a bag of icing sugar you knew you had left there and then you opened the fridge to get the butter.

"What are you doing?" Jack asks, appearing in the doorway.

"I told Rodri I was going to the store, I can't go back empty handed."

"So that means you need to take my butter?" He looks at you confused, fixing the sleeves of his shirt. You nodded, smiling at him as you walked to the door.

Jack follows behind you, watching as you put your shoes back on. "I've seen your bank account, you can afford to buy another tub of butter," you patted his chest, giving him a quick kiss before heading out.

When you returned home, the house was quiet. "Rod?" You called, walking into the kitchen to see your cakes on the stove cooling and the back door was open.

"Hey," your brother stepped back inside. "You're back."

"What's going on? " You look at him confused. "Why were you outside?"

"I figured we could eat outside tonight, it's nice out."

"Okay then," you turn your attention to your cake, starting on the icing. "Did you get everything you needed?" Rodri asks, scooping some icing up on his finger.

You smack his arm, the man smiles and sticks his finger in his mouth to taste the frosting. "I did."

"Okay, I'm gonna go take a shower." He kisses your cheek, walking off towards the bathroom. You rolled your eyes at your brother's theatrics and finished up on your cake, frosting it and sticking it in the fridge for the time being.

By the time you finished tidying up and setting up the last of what was needed for dinner, it was a few minutes to 8 o'clock. Rodri finds his way back to the kitchen in slacks and a polo shirt.

"You're dressed up," you glance in his direction, setting the last glass into the dish rack. "We have company coming, I'm not gonna eat dinner in sweatpants, y/n."

You chuckled, remembering what you had told Jack earlier. "Okay whatever you say."

The doorbell rings, Rodri makes his way over to open it and let Jack in. The two of them made small talk in the entryway as you wiped your hands on the kitchen towel. Upon finding the men, you realized both of them were far too dressed up for you to be in sweatpants.

"I see I'm undressed." You announced, making your presence known.

"Hi y/n," Jack smiles at you, handing the bottle of wine over to Rodri.

"Hi Jack," you smiled back at him, as if you hadn't seen him 40 minutes ago. "I'm going to go change, I'll meet you guys outside."

You left them to make their way outside while you attempted to pull together an outfit as quickly as possible. You pulled your hair out of the falling apart ponytail it was in and put on a sundress before making your way outside.

"Wine?" Rodri asks, after pouring some into Jack's glass. "Yeah, please." You smile at your brother, sitting in the chair that was on the left; between Jack and Rodri who were across from each other.

Dinner was quiet, the 3 of you chatting about life, football, the upcoming matches, your plans come the fall. Rodri lets you and Jack speak, it's like you had forgotten he was there altogether; it didn't take a scientist to see the chemistry between you two.

You and Jack were comfortable in each other's space, joking around like you had known each other for years, the type of thing you'd only see with a couple.

After dinner wrapped up, you cleared the table and brought the cake out. You cut three pieces, handing them over to the boys before sitting down and taking your own piece.

Rodri takes a bite, looking over at his teammate who does the same. "How is it?" He asks Jack.

The man nods, "good, it's great." He smiles at you and you return the gesture, taking a bite from your own piece.

Rodri nods, the fork in between his fingers as he points between you and Jack. "So.. how long has this been going on?"

You coughed, rubbing your chest after you almost choked on your cake. Jack on the other was completely pale, as if all the blood had drained from his body.

He starts, glancing between you and Rodri, unsure what to say. "Wh-uh.. what are you talking about?"

Rodri rolls his eyes, as if Jack thought he was stupid. He knew the two of you were seeing each other, it was painfully obvious. He had a suspicion and tonight's dinner was either going to make or break the thought. It just slapped a big old confirmed stamp on the two of you.

"I'm not blind, you know. I do pay attention, even when you think I'm not." Rodri says, looking over at you with an accusatory look on his face. You bite back a shy smile, lips pressed together as you look away from your older brother. "Plus, your bedroom is next to mine, y/n. Having him on speaker all night isn't exactly the slickest way of hiding a relationship."

You and Jack chuckled, looking at each other. "It's not that we didn't want to tell you-" "It was y/n's idea not to tell you." Jack butts in, throwing you under the bus so to speak.

"Shut up!" You groan, shaking your head. "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," you glance in the direction of your boyfriend. "I just wanted to see where it goes, if I'd stay in Manchester or not."

"And are you?" Rodri asks.

You take a moment to think, nodding. "Yeah, I think I will be."

"Good," your brother reaches over, patting your hand. "Does he treat you well?"

You rolled your eyes at his cliché question but you nod. "He does."

Rodri turns his attention to Jack. "If you hurt her, I'll hurt you." He tells his teammate, earning a laugh from Jack but you look at your boyfriend. "No, he will and I'll let him."

"Oh..." Jack looks between the siblings, jaw hanging open a bit. "Okay then."

The rest of the evening was quiet, you two gave Rodri a few details from your relationship, how long you'd be together and a few other things like that before you took the cake back inside.

Jack had gone to the bathroom and your brother finds you cutting another slice of the cake, putting it into a Tupperware bowl in the kitchen. "What are you doing?" He looks at you, confused.

You return the look, "packing a piece of cake for Jack? There's more than enough, Rod. You can have more tomorrow." You chuckled, putting the bowl into a bag.

"I don't think your clothes are gonna fit in there," Rodri tells you, leaning on the counter. You look at your brother, confusion all over your face. "What are you talking about, dude?"

"Go pack your bag."

"Are you kicking me out? I thought you were cool with-" "No dummy, I'm telling you to go spend the night with your boyfriend."

"Oh!" You laughed, walking over to give your brother a hug. "You're really okay with me dating him?"

"Would he have been my first choice? No, I thought you'd date a doctor or something boring like that but as long as you're happy and he treats you well, I'm 100% behind it."

"Okay," you smiled, kissing his cheek before running off to your room.

Jack and Rodri were in the entryway, your bag tossed over your shoulder as you skipped down the hallway towards them. Jack reaches for your bag, taking it from you.

"Thanks man," Jack nods at his teammate, Rodri smiles at him. "Anytime, take care of her, yeah? Drive carefully please."

"I'm a fantastic driver," Jack says, and you and Rodri exchange a look before laughing. Jack rolls his eyes, already knowing what you two were thinking. You hugged your brother once more, saying goodnight to him before heading down the driveway with him.

Once you were in the car, Jack looked over at you with a cheeky smile on his face. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Shut up," you smiled, reaching over to hold his hand.

--

add yourself to the taglist!

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[kierantierney3]

Ahh yay lovely. Could you do a soft launch for John with a non famous reader? Or John becoming a step dad to your baby? Xx

The one where they soft launch

Thanks for the request, don’t think i’ve ever had a request for John Stones. Decided to do the soft launch if you want the other request just send it in!

Masterlist

———

johnstones5

liked by yourusername, rubendias and 231,939 others

johnstones5 History made!! 4 in a row! 🏆 Gets better each time.

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rubendias My brother

yourusername Proud 🥹

liked by author

user What a brag 4 in a row 🤣🤣

user What a player 😍😍

johnstones5

liked by yourusername, kevindebruyne and 119,830 others

johnstones5 Calm before the storm 😌

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user John Stones soft launch? I’m gonna cry

user We got a soft launch before gta 6

yourusername Lovely 😻

liked by author

user The third slide? this man is whipped 😢😢

yourusername

liked by johnstones5 and 129 others

yourusername Can this holiday last forever? pls and thank you.

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johnstones Lovely photos 🫢

yourbestfriend No you have to come back to me babes 😘😘

^yourusername I could never leave you 😻^

johnstones5

liked by philfoden, bukayosaka87 and 80,829 others

johnstones5 Art date ❤️

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philfoden You’re not smart enough to go to a art museum?

yourusername Trying to look like you understand what’s going on in an art museum? 😅

^johnstones5 I do understand 😶^

user The rumours are true 😢

user Boyfriend John 🙂‍↔️

football gossip

liked by user18 and user82 and 1288 others

football gossip John stones rumoured girlfriend found on instagram. The Manchester City defender has recently started posting pictures of a mystery girl.

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user Let me in plesseeee i want to see her photos

user Whstx the point of this post? leave the poor girl alone.

user She’s normal? you’re saying i have a chance with a man city player? hey ruben dias 🫢🫢

johnstones5 story

^yourusername replied to your story What happened to a soft launch? i love you still^

[dreamonseems]

hii, if you are open to more writing about dad!erling, i have a request/idea?¿

maybe like, their son is maybe 1.5 years old/2 and is already aware to recognize erling and stuff like that, so one night, when erling is having a game and you and son stay home, baby cant fall asleep until erling is there, so y/n and baby just walk around their apartment waiting for erling to return and all of them sleep together in their bed🤭🫶

Baby's Wish

Erling Haaland X Female Reader

Summary: Baby Ragnar can't sleep without Daddy Erling.

I love writing about dad Erling 🥺💓

Ragnar had recently celebrated his second birthday, and he had become the ultimate daddy's boy. With his striking blue eyes and a crown of bright blonde hair, he was a mirror image of Erling, his father. It was almost comical how little he resembled Y/N, and she would playfully tease about how disrespectful it was for her to carry Ragnar for nine months, only for him to emerge from the womb looking like a spitting image of his dad.

Ragnar was an incredibly energetic and curious little bundle of joy. He had an insatiable thirst for exploration, always eager to discover the world around him. But amidst all his adventures, he remained deeply attached to Erling. Their bond was unbreakable. It was no surprise when Ragnar's first word rolled off his tiny lips, and it was "Dada." The sheer adoration in his eyes whenever he laid eyes on his father was undeniable.

Erling's heart would swell with pride and love every time he heard his son call out to him. It was as if Ragnar had chosen Erling to be his ultimate hero and guide in life. The connection between father and son was a testament to the special bond they shared.

Y/N would watch in awe as Ragnar followed his father around, mimicking his every move and hanging onto his every word. She couldn't help but be filled with both amusement and affection at the sight of her little family. Ragnar's unwavering attachment to Erling was a beautiful reflection of the love and care that his father bestowed upon him.

But Days like these were particularly challenging ever since Ragnar became more aware and deeply attached to Erling. Y/N found herself grappling with the difficulty of explaining to their young son why his beloved father wasn't always present, especially during training sessions or when he had matches to play.

It became even more challenging during bedtime, as Ragnar preferred to have his daddy put him to sleep. Tonight was one of those nights.

Erling had an important match scheduled, and Y/N and Ragnar watched the game fervently from the comfort of their home. Ragnar's eyes were glued to the television screen, his little face lighting up with excitement as he recognized his daddy's familiar face among the players.

Y/N couldn't help but find it absolutely adorable, witnessing the pure joy and connection Ragnar felt towards his father.

However, when it came time for Ragnar's bedtime routine, everything changed. The usually calm and peaceful transition to sleep turned into a tearful ordeal. Ragnar cried out for his Dada, his tiny voice filled with longing and sadness.

Y/N's heart shattered at the sight of her baby, his messy curly hair tousled and wild, tears streaming down his face as he desperately called out for his daddy.

"It's okay, sunshine. Daddy will be home soon," Y/N whispered, holding Ragnar close in her arms, trying her best to console him. However, the tears and calls for Erling showed no signs of ceasing. Y/N knew that she needed to find a way to ease Ragnar's heartache and longing.

Making a decision in the moment, Y/N gently suggested to Ragnar, "Let's take a walk around the house and wait for Daddy to come home. Maybe we can see the stars together and make a wish for him." She knew it might provide a temporary distraction and help Ragnar feel closer to Erling, even in his absence.

With tears still glistening in his eyes, Ragnar nodded, his tiny hand grasping Y/N's tightly. They walked hand in hand, exploring the familiar corners of their home. She told him little stories and gave him little tickles, making his laugh fill the house, as they patiently waited for Erling's return.

Y/N hoped that the gentle rhythm of their steps and the love that enveloped them would provide solace to Ragnar's tender heart, reassuring him that his father would be back soon.

As the night progressed and the moon cast its gentle glow, Ragnar's tears slowly subsided. His trust in his mother and the anticipation of Erling's arrival provided a glimmer of comfort. They stood together, looking up at the starry sky, their hearts intertwined, sending their wishes into the night.

And just as Y/N's words had promised, Erling eventually returned home, his footsteps echoing through the hallway. The moment Ragnar caught sight of his daddy's tired but smiling face, his eyes lit up with pure delight. Running into Erling's arms, he finally found the solace and warmth he had been yearning for.

Y/N watched the tender reunion, her heart brimming with gratitude and love. In that moment, she knew that even on the hardest days, their family's bond would always prevail.

"What are you still doing up, my little mischief-maker?" Erling chuckled, scooping up his son into his arms. Ragnar's face lit up upon seeing his beloved father, and he mumbled, "Dada, dada home, miss dada," making grabby hands at Erling's face and showering him with sloppy kisses.

Erling's heart swelled with joy as he watched his son, his eyes shimmering with pride and affection. Ragnar's words melted away any remnants of exhaustion Erling might have felt. His presence had been sorely missed, and he knew just how much his little boy longed for him.

Y/N approached the pair, a smile gracing her face as she witnessed the heartwarming scene. She joined them, pressing a gentle kiss on Erling's cheek. "He couldn't sleep. He cried for you," she said, her voice filled with warmth and love.

Erling tightened his embrace, savoring the feeling of being surrounded by his precious family. There was an indescribable sense of contentment that washed over him, as if the world outside their cocoon no longer mattered.

Nothing else in the world could compare to this moment, where he was at home, embraced by the love of his wife and the adoration of his son.

"Let's go to bed then," Erling suggested, his voice filled with tenderness and determination. With his arms wrapped securely around Y/N and Ragnar, he led them towards their cozy haven, their sanctuary of dreams, and shared moments. As they settled down, intertwining their bodies and hearts, a profound sense of peace washed over them.

In the quiet embrace of the night, Erling whispered softly, "I love you both more than words can express." It was a simple declaration, yet it held the weight of a thousand promises, a testament to the depth of his devotion.

Y/N nestled closer to Erling, their love radiating within the warmth of their shared embrace. Ragnar, his eyes heavy with sleep, nestled against his father's chest, finding solace in the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat.

With a gentle sigh and a heart overflowing with gratitude, they surrendered to the serenity of the night, knowing that in each other's arms, they were home. The world outside might have its demands and challenges, but in this sanctuary of love, they found respite and strength.

As sleep finally claimed them, their dreams entwined, painting a picture of a future filled with love, laughter, and endless joy. Together, they embarked on this journey, united in their bond, ready to face whatever adventures awaited them.

[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.

[cityzenchick]

That moment when ......... at the end of a high scoring win for City at the Etihad, Ruben joined the other players to clap the fans in thanks for their support, but despite the many banners, posters and signs being held up and waved enthsiastically by City fans requesting 'Ruben please can we have your shirt?' .......... Ruben had hastily removed his shirt and scrunched it up in his hand, knowing exactly who he wanted his prized shirt to go to ........... and as he pointed out to one of the stewards just who he wanted the lucky recipient to be, you found yourself blushing acutely as you realised that out of all the supporters in that vast stadium, he was actually looking and pointing directly at you ..........

[viandclintbarton-supremacy]

Man city women losing on pens and the men's picking up injuries left and right!

My life as a Man City right now

WOSO PEEPS SEND ME YOUR FAV FLUFFY IMAGINES OR ANGST TO FLUFF ONES

[fernandoswarcrimes]

Sweet Nothing x Jack Grealish

“And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"”

Taglist: @morgan108 @diary-of-jj @shea-theodore @pitchandgrid @wifemase @hal3ynicol3 @alicerubyfloyd @nicanicksnica @formulafootballfan @xoocourtneyxo @babybella337 @hobiismyhopeu @cha-hot @goldrushc @carlossainzwho @swiftiebitchhere @styles-sunflower @ru-kru @judespoision

Word count: 1.4K

To be added to the rest of the series click here -> 🌌

I spy with my little tired eye

Tiny as a firefly

A pebble that we picked up last July

Down deep inside your pocket

We almost forgot it

Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

Jack glanced at what you had pulled out of your pocket, a questioning look on your face, as the two of you got ready to walk out the door. It was small, almost the size of a lightning bug. A small little pink pebble that you two had found last July whilst on summer break. It had slipped both of your minds, nearly forgetting about it until just now as you held it up with a smile before setting it in the dish by the door with the extra set of keys and oddities that you both had in your pockets that week. He wondered if the small rock ever missed Wicklow, the cozy seaside town. That something so small could hold such important memories. It was when he asked you to move in with him. At first he didn’t think you’d say yes, because it took you a few minutes to give him an answer, but that was because you were just in shock. He had been so upfront and honest about it you didn’t think a guy like him would want that. But you had been proven wrong as you realized this was Jack, your jack. The goofy brummie guy who had swept you clear off your feet with his horrendous jokes and down to earth personality. He was the personification of soft. He missed Wicklow, if the rock didn’t then he did, because it gave him you.

They said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving

You're in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

The Birmingham man was tired.

Tired of everyone saying that the end of City’s reign was coming, that they wouldn’t make it till the end. They wouldn’t get the treble. Everyone always had something to say, he more often than not, found himself quickly trying to quickly head out after any practice or game not wanting to be interviewed or stopped by anybody that would hold him up. All he wanted to do was run home to you and the calmness that surrounded you. As he walked out of training he could see people pushing and shoving at the gate as he got into his car, his teammates having no problem stopping to sign things or take pictures. But nonetheless, despite how tired he was, he pulled his car through the gates and stopped for a few people because he knew if he didn’t it would end up being the next big scrutinizing headline, which he didn’t need. He didn’t mind the fans really, he loved them, but on days like this when everything was weighing down on him he just wanted to come home to you. As he drove through Manchester he thought of how relaxing it’d be to just lay on the couch with you, he stopped and got you both some food on the way home knowing you’d enjoy the simple gesture, and when he did finally arrive home, he walked inside and heard you humming in the kitchen. You looked up when you heard him come in and smiled at him. “Aw you picked up maccies” he just smiled and sat the bag on the counter letting you pull him into a much needed hug which had him instantly relaxing into your arms. All you ever wanted from him was moments like this. Sweet nothings.

On the way home

I wrote a poem

You say, "What a mind"

This happens all the time

On the way home from a trip you and him took together, he had been quietly sitting in the passenger seat. You’d look over to him a few times wondering what he was doing, usually you couldn’t get him to stop talking and the quietness wasn’t bad per say, it just intrigued you. “I uh- wrote a poem I wanted to read to you.” Jack spoke up softly which caused a small smile to spread across your lips as you nodded for him to go ahead. You saw him sit up straighter out of the corner of your eye as he looked down at his phone. “I won’t ever find the words, you are everything always and even that is not enough.” Was it grammatically correct? No, but you appreciate the sentiment and the fact he wrote it. “What a mind you have, love. I like it.” You nodded while looking over at him briefly with a smile. Jack appreciated that you supported him and his little hobbies like this and not just football. It was something he realized happened all the time even if you didn’t make a big deal about it. He wanted to write poetry? You were right there encouraging him, wanting to try new fashion styles? You wanted him to give you a fashion show and show you what he bought and gave him pointers on what would look good and what wouldn’t. He had never felt more loved and appreciated besides when he was with his family. But that wasn’t to say he didn’t support you the same way because he did 110% in anything you wanted to do or try. It was a very open and co-op relationship. You both gave and helped when the other needed it.

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors

And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"

To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

It was no secret how some clubs were ran, Chelsea was a prime example of industry disruptors some hotshot millionaire coming in and buying the club ontop of the management fucking everything up. That didn’t mean City was squeaky clean either, they had their own allegations and rumors about them as well. Everyone was pushing for the same thing. Pushing to be the best. No matter what they did they always got told “you should be doing more” pitching it like they were trying to sell it to the players as if they didn’t want to be the best already. Everyone wanted to win the big three but you could only do that if you were being efficient and doing good. But to you, Jack could admit that sometimes he’s too soft for all of it. The pressure, the comments, the scrutiny. He had heard it ever since City signed him, he went from being the star boy at Aston Villa to being a “waste of money” after being signed as the most expensive English footballer to date. Some days he didn’t think he wanted to do it anymore, he had been trying and trying to prove himself that he could do it, that he could be worth what they paid for him. He had to. Because he didn’t know what he would do if they let him go.

They said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving

You're in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

Despite all the talk of the end of the season and all the tough games they had to get through. There was the one constant that kept him going, and that was being able to run home to you when the day was over. The two of you and your constant little moments that some would consider boring nothingness, meant everything to him. No amount of cups or championship wins would compare to him coming home from an away game to find you dancing and humming around the kitchen or how you were always there for him, to pick him up after a bad game, in the stands for the good games, or just spending time with him and his family. His mother had asked him when he was going to get the courage to ask you the big question, she knew he already had the ring. He also knew you wouldn’t want a big public gesture, you’d want something small, just between the two of you and your little sweet nothing moments. Which is exactly how he did it, at three in the morning, when you both couldn’t sleep. Was the deliriousness from sleep getting to you both? Probably, but he knew that no time was better than right now. He dropped to one knee in the middle of the kitchen, illuminated by the refrigerator light as he looked up at you with the softest look ever and softly asked as he opened the velvet box that he had been hiding for the last six months. “Will you marry me?” He wanted nothing more than to have a million more moments like this with you.

[futbolfanficpunk]

The Coach

Player: Pep Guardiola Word count: 2,9k+ Summary: Reader is a fem football player who signs up for a 3-week summer clinics camp with Pep Guardiola and his staff. She starts developing feelings quickly for Pep, as she always had a crush on him. At a party on the last day of camp, while in a drunken state and feeling she has nothing to lose, she decides to confess her feelings. Warning: Angst, Smut, Infidelity Authors note: I had this in the back of my mind for a long time, so, I skipped over other stories I had started and wrote this as quickly as I could (which was not that quick at all, it got accidentally deleted halfway through writing, meh). I have the second part in my mind as well. I don't know if I'm ready to share it though, it goes against the sanctity of marriage HAHAHAHA

Edit: Part 2 Part 3

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Pep Team Summer Camp and Clinics for Professional Female Footballers. That was the title of the email you received from your agent, “You need to get on this! Let’s sign you up?” the body of the email said. You didn’t think twice. You loved the idea of working and learning from Pep Guardiola and you knew he was never going to coach a women's team. This was your chance. “Yes, sign me up!” Fucking Pep Guardiola, fucking Fc Barcelona player, your dream club. Villareal was an amazing club to play for, a growing team but Barca was your goal. Plus, you always thought Pep was charming and handsome, you always had a lil’ admiration crush on him, it would be cool to finally meet him.

On week one of the clinics, you were progressing and getting along with both staff and other players. You shared your room with a girl from As Roma’s team,Valentina, you would communicate in English because it was your only language in common. You had a good time with her, always chatting and joking around a bit before going to sleep. You spent your Sunday off together, went to the beach and around town in Barcelona, where the camp took place.

Pep had already noticed you that week, you saw him staring at you in the last two days and had his staff come to give you extra challenges or exercises, and had them pass the info back to him. You only talked to him twice, you think both times you held your breath the entire time you weren’t talking. By the end of week one, he asked to have a private meeting with you, he wanted to see what type of person you were, your goals, your drives and passions. You spent 30 minutes talking, he was really easy to talk to, his dry sense of humor and sarcasm had you cracking up and you learned that you both like cinema. You told him about your Italian movie collection, he liked Spanish and indy American movies.You told him who your favorite players of all time were. You told him your goal was to end up at Barcelona, play at the Camp Nou and win titles so that eventually you could also get a spot in the National Team. The whole summer clinic camp, if not worth for the footballing value, had been just worth it to have this time with Pep. You found that you actually really like who he was and that made him even more attractive in your eyes. You had noticed the lil’ mannerism he had and made him more likable. You replayed your conversation over and over in your mind during the next couple of days. You didn’t know why, mainly fangirling, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t stop thinking about it.

On week two Pep was now talking to you directly during the session at the end of the day of the day, where you would have mini games in groups of 7s. He would call you to give your instructions or correct something you had done, most of the time he would be animated and loud and touched you when talking to you to enphasize what he was saying. Sometimes he would talk closer to your ear, especially when it was a correction, he would be so close to your ear you could feel a bit of his hot breath hitting you, his Catalan accented words floating into your ears. By the third day he was calling you to give you instructions your already agitated heart would skip when he signaled for you to come, and when he was talking to you while you nodded you felt your nipple harden and you core get warm, you almost zoned out to concentrate on his tone coming to your ears “Y/A, you understand, yes?” he asked

“Yes, coach”. You knew thoseinteractions weren't anything special, nor reserved for you, he did it with a few players, the best ones, you could tell that was the dynamic of the clinics. Your teammates were talented players and you were proud to be considered one of the best among them. You were 23, you weren't one of those freaks who were already stars at 21 like Claudia Pina, but you knew you could be great, amazing, if you kept working and fighting for it. Pep seemed to agree.  “Real good work today, kid” he said at the end of the session on the fourth day of the second week and gave you a big hug with a few pats on your back, “Thank you, coach” you said as you side-hugged him back and smiled. “Keep it up” he said while walking away and complementing other players.

By the third and final week you felt that Pep was closer to being a colleague or a friend than just a coach, he had the chance to talk to him with other players and staff during lunches. They all joked around, and shared stories. You couldn't stop smiling when he was around, he probably just thought you were a person who always smiled for no reason. Two days before the last day he took you aside for two minutes to give you praises on your game intensity, pass progression and for trying to score more as he had asked you. You smiled the whole time not only with your mouth but with your eyes, you were sure you were glowing or blushing, just didn’t know which one. “Thank you, Pep, these past three weeks have been so amazing, a real learning experience and an honor. It has helped my confidence and I’ll try to keep working on everything you pointed out”, “Good” he said and put his arm around you “Keep working, you got this Y/N. You’re good, don’t doubt it” and gave you a lil pat on the shoulder. You wanted to hug him and kiss his face right there,your crush was peaking, but you just smiled and nodded because you weren’t a crazy person, you were a professional. 

The Saturday after the last day of the camp, there was a big party at a beach hotel’s event room for all the girls, staff and coaches to say good bye and party together. You partied with Valentina and other girls. There was food and booze. You had one more drink than you should have. You started having stupid thoughts, like maybe you should tell Pep about your crush on him. You probably won’t see him ever again, anyway, and that way you could live with yourself and not be horny and crushing around an older guy. You had a thing for older men, you always did. You had dates a 35 year old and a 42 year old. This was not a surprise. The surprise was you wanting to act on such a fucking crazy idea. You took a last sip of your drink and told the girls that you would be right back. You looked for Guardiola everywhere. You couldn’t find him, so you asked one of the coaching staff and they told you to check by the beach. You went out to the beach and there he was, barefoot holding his sneakers with one hand, looking at the waves crashing into the sand while walking.

“Pep” you shout

“Y/N” he responded”Is everything ok?”

“Yes, fantastic” you said while sloppy walking closer to him and slightly slurring your words. 

“What’s up?” He inquired

“Nothing, just came to talk to you” you answered

“With me? What about?”

“You”

“What do you mean?”

“Well” you sighed “I have something to tell you, and it’s kinda silly but I thought since we’re probably not seeing each other in person again or possibly in years, and I’m druuunk, that I would”

“Oh, fuck”

You laugh. 

“It’s worse for me, coach” 

When you got ready for this party, you got dressed for him, your cute short blue dress with silver jewelry, girly makeup. You’ve seen his wife, she’s adorable. You weren’t going to compete but you were going to show off just in case you could get him to notice you.

“Go on’ he said crossing his arms

“Pep, I’m glad I’ve had this opportunity to work with you over the past weeks. But I have to say that I found that you were not only a good coach, but also such a fun person to be around and I like you a lot”

“You make it sound like liking someone as a colleague is a bad thing”

“Because I’m saying that I have a crush on you, guapo”

He laughs while you frown like a little girl “How old are you again, Y/N?” he asked

“23” you shot back” “Well, my wife and I have been together 22 years, you know that?”

“I didn’t but I’m not asking you to marry me or anything,” you said while tucking your hair behind your ear “ I just wanted to tell you -- I just wanted you to know that I’m crazy about you and that maybe if you like me back, just a little bit, you should kiss me before we never see each other again” you finished saying while surprising yourself on how you got the cojones to tell him. “You are out of your mind. I could be your dad and you’re telling me all these things?” “I’m not a lil’ girl, and I don’t care that you’re older than me. I've been with older men before” “You’re drunk and you know what? Don’t go back to the party, just go back to your hotel room”

“but Pep–”

“I said go back to your hotel room, NOW” he said in a voice you had never heard from him. “Fuck” you muttered in frustration while you went back to the hotel to go straight to your room. Once in your bedroom, you calmed down. The adrenaline rush was gone and you realized what you had done. You couldn't do anything except cry, not out of rejection but out of complete embarrassment. You quietly drunk-cried until you fell asleep. 

When you wake up, your roommate was almost already packed.  Your head is throbbing. She said “I’m leaving for the lobby in 5 minutes, but I’ll see you there. Won’t leave until we say good-bye. Va bene?”

“Okay, Vale” you said while rubbing your eyes and went straight for the shower. After getting dressed, taking an aspirin for the hangover, and putting on some makeup, you went to organize your bags. You were trying to finish packing up when someone knocked on your door. You were wondering if your silly roommate left her card-key she needed for the checkout.

You open the door saying, “Did you leave you card-key, silly?”

And there he was, Pep Guardiola with a very serious look on his face.

“Oh, sorry, I thought you were Valentina” you said

“Can I come in to talk?” he asked

“Yea, sure but I’m finishing up packing” you quickly replied

You were scared shitless and embarrassed to see him again but also excited, wondering what exactly he wanted to say. You let him in, and go back to your bed to continue packing up your things.

“I just came to make sure you were okay because you were really drunk last night,” said Pep once in “and said some crazy things.”

“I’m okay, just have a nasty headache” you said while you finished putting the last piece of clothing away in your bag “and I wasn’t saying crazy things,” you turned to look at him “I was telling you the truth”.

If you learned anything from being with guys over 35 years old is that they appreciate directness and love confidence. And even if you were nervous right at that moment,you weren’t going to act like it. He was here, and that was a win. 

“Well, putting your inappropriate comments aside, I hope we can maintain a professional relationship and I wish you the best. I’ll see you in the lobby” he said

“No” you said

“No, What?” 

“ You didn’t come down to my room just to say this little line, Did you?I call bullshit. You could’ve said those exact same words in the lobby or anywhere else but my room”

“ Are you accusing me of something?”

“ I’m accusing you of being intrigued,” you said while getting closer and pressing your fingers on his light training jacket “ I’m saying, maybe you like me”

“You have a lot of nerve”

“Then why haven’t you said no, Pep?”

“No to what?”

You grin and let out a chuckle, he is playing dumb and you know it, he’s into this. You take one more step forward so that’s no space between you two while he stares at you like he wants to kill you for tempting him.

 “To me” you pull his jacket toward you and press your lips against his. He wrapped his hands around your arms with little strength to push you back but his hands melted there and his lips kissed you back. You pull back a bit to get your hands on his face to cup his cheeks and kiss him again with your mouth a bit open to fit his upper lip in between yours. He started to kiss you back with his mouth open as he pulled you towards him while holding your waist, he slipped his tongue into your mouth and you met his with yours. You placed your hands on his shoulder as the kiss became more intense, you could hear his agitated breathing. You wanted him. You weren’t sure how far you could take it as people were waiting for you both but you didn’t care. You pulled slightly away from his mouth, took his hands, and guided him down your ass, “Touch me, please”, he just stared at you, pupils dilated, and did as you said. You kissed his olive-tone neck as he fondled your ass. You went for his mouth again and your hands went down his torso to explore his pants. Your hands found his hard member and rubbed on top of it through his clothes. He groaned into your mouth while your tongue danced with his. You wanted him to feel how much you wanted him, so you parted from the kiss, pulled the elastic from your joggers and panties out to make space for his hand, and with your other hand pulled his hand into your in-between “Feel me” you instructed. He rubbed the folds of your wet core with his fingers while he bit his lips, drawing big circles around your core, it made you so excited you let out a small moan. “How are you this wet? He asked while looking at your moany mouth.“I told you before, I like you, a lot. I want you” you said in a breathless voice as you kissed his chin and neck.

He took this hand out of under your clothes and backed up with a concerned look on his face “We can’t do this”

“Why not? You’re here, aren’t you?” you said while reaching for his arm “you aren’t going to leave me high and dry, are you? You asked in a whiny voice and a pout, but internally you were getting ready to be rejected because you had seen doubt in his expression.

“This is a line I’m not ready to cross, dear” he as he crosses his arms across his chest “I have a family, y/n, I’ve lost control as it is”

“I’m glad you did, though”

“I’m sure” he sighs “I’m going to go the lobby before I do anything else that I will regret”

“Can I have one more, please?”

“One more?”

“Kiss”

He came over to you, held your face, and placed a soft kiss on top of your lips. You smiled with your eyes closed and whispered “Thank you”

He let out a small incredilous chuckle “You’re cute” he let go of you and said with intensity that defines him “but this ends here. We’re not going to talk about this, you’re not going to contact me. This is something that’s not happening again. Understood?”

“Yes, coach” you replied, because even though you wanted  to challenge him you know he was serious and you should leave it.

“Good luck with everything” he said as he turned around towards the door

“Hey, Guardiola”

“What?

“Smell your fingers” you said while giggling

“Fuck you” he said with a chuckle

He closed the door behind him and you did a little dance in your room and giggled. You let your body slam into the bed. You sighed and touched your lips trying to trace where he had just kissed you. You couldn’t believe it. You actually kissed him, you touched him and he touched you. He was the oldest man you ever had kiss, but probably the most intense of them all. You were warm and fuzzy. How did you pull this off? You thought to yourself.

Valentina gave you a hug near the entrance of the hotel lobby “You took forever! I almost left without saying good-bye”

“I know, sorry! Had to reorganize my bag because I couldn’t close it, and my backpack was full too! But keep in touch and best of luck in Roma, maybe I can visit you sometime”

“Good luck to you too. And text me, you bitch”

“I swear I will” you said and laughed. 

You look around to see if you could see him one more time before you leave for the one week you have left to actually go on vacation before pre-season starts. You did see him, he was saying goodbye to some of the coaching staff, you stared for a lil’ too long and he noticed and looked back. You mouthed off a “bye” and waved. He waved in your direction and immediately kept talking to the people around him. You sighed and left for the airport.

A month into your pre-season with Villareal you were still thinking about Pep and often. You never tried to contact him, but you thought of all the things you would say if you could see him again, you thought about the hotel and the way he kissed you. You had done well during the pre-season, you were disciplined, and were always in the starting eleven. Outside the pitch, you weren’t being too crazy, you only acted out during your one-week vacation in San Sebastian, where you made out with a divorced 30-year-old guy you met at a tapas bar and ended up bar hopping with him. You were chasing the feeling that kissing Pep gave you but it wasn’t even close. Your phone vibrated and you got a notification from a phone you didn’t recognize, it was really late but you weren't sleepy and watching a series.

 

You included a picture from your personal trainer's gym you had taken that week. You didn't care if it seemed you were trying hard. You were always going to shoot your shot. He heart-reacted to it but didn't text back. You knew then; he's thinking about you too, even if he's too afraid to admit it. That made you happy.

[monstersholygrail]

What happens if someone is in a relationship/marriage whilst in Free Use City? How would that work?

As another day winds down in Free Use City, you and your Monster Husband move around your shared room with ease. Working as though you are two cogs working in a perfect machine. The deep familiarity between you both is evident as your husband slides your lotion to the edge of the sink right before you walk in and grab it.

You lean into his side and his arm naturally winds around your waist as he brushes his teeth. The height difference between you both is comical yet the way you two fit together is utter perfection. Uncapping your lotion you barely even think as the words slip out of your mouth.

“Some Tentacle Monster fucked me in the bathroom today at work. Was pleasantly surprised by the tentacle dick.”

Your husband snorts in amusement, quickly closing his mouth to stop the toothpaste from flying. Your mouth quirks up as you dot some lotion on your arms.

Living in the city, when proposing to fuck someone, the act is always shared and discussed between you two beforehand. Whether it’s a group activity or solo. But if someone comes up to you to fuck, well, that’s more than fair game.

“Really?” He asks once his mouth is rinsed. You hum in agreement, leaning down to rub lotion up and down your plush legs. An act your husband can’t help but watch with rapt attention. “A Tentacle Monster actually fucked me too, today. At my desk!”

You whip back up, looking at your husband with wide eyes and a smile.

“No way! Think it was the same one?”

“That would be hot.”

You hum in agreement once again, nodding along as you imagine a Tentacle Monster purposefully going out of their way to find you and your husband just to know they got to fuck you both. A shiver runs down your spine and you meet your husband’s eye in the mirror. His gaze reflects your own, a burning heat of lust as similar thoughts race through your mind.

In a flash you two are jumping each other, mouth classing in a heated kiss. Your limbs tangling as you practically climb him like a fucking tree. Your husband lifts your plush body up with ease, settling you on the sink and standing between your thick thighs. He growls into the kiss, his tongue diving deep in your mouth.

His hands feel like a blur on your skin as he rips away the clothes standing in the way of him finally having you again. He doesn’t break away from your lips, uncaring that you’re running out of air. He needs you like you’re his air and isn’t that more important?

He finally breaks away from the kiss as he sinks into your slick heat to throw his head back. A long groan leaving his lips now. Your moans mingle with his like a perfect melody as his fat cock stretches your walls beyond possible. Your sopping hole welcoming your husband’s cock back inside you with relief.

Your body tingles as his claws sink into your flesh, keeping you steady as he starts pounding away into your pussy as if he’s been waiting for this all day. By the way your core sucks him back in with every thrust it’s clear it’s hurt you to wait just as much. Neither of you can get enough of each other, your hands scouring the other, clinging to the person you crave more than anyone.

“F-fuck, baby. Nothing feels better than this. Sweet pussy was fucking made for me, wasn’t it?” Your husband growls, his hips snapping harder and faster. Finding the act of not being inside you near unbearable.

You cry out, nails clawing at his back. Desperate to get him as deep inside you as possibly. No one wills you the way he does, no one knows your body and how to so perfectly make you feel good like he does. His words send tingles down your spine. A familiar relief sparking through you as you know nothing a doubt your husband would chose you over anyone.

“Yes! Fuck! This pussy was made for your cock. Fits so perfect. So, hnghhh, good…”

Monster Husband roars, more than pleased by your words. He gets impossibly bigger within you and you scream, your hips pushing back to meet his every thrust. He rolls his hips into you at an inhuman speed, hitting every spot along your walls that has you seeing stars.

“That’s it— aughh— dammit, cum for me. Need to feel you baby, please,” your husband begs, his thrusts quickly growing sloppy as he chases release for you both.

His words weave into your ear and shoot straight down to your core. Your body jolts and seizes in his embrace and a second later you’re violently thrown into an earth shattering orgasm. Your screams rival a banshees as a deep pressure snaps and gushes out of you. Your pussy milking your husband’s cock for all it’s worth. Your slutty cunt sucks him back in as he tries to grind his length inside you and it has him following you into climax. Shooting thick ropes of cum as far inside you as he can possibly reach.

You two sag against each other. Holding onto one another with everything you have. Comforted by your mere presences and the knowledge that no matter who chooses to fuck you, you’ll always choose each other first.

[a-pute11as]

it's just platonic...

word count - 3k | summary - flirty leila x oblivious r

MDNI 18 + - not smut but 18+ themes

leila had always been affectionate, some may even say over-affectionate, but you just thought that was the spanish side of her. every time she greeted you she placed a kiss on your forehead, or wrapped her arms around your waist from behind, often holding you like that for several minutes. at one point you began to think that maybe those lingering glances or touchy moments meant something, but you knew she acted similarly towards other teammates too, definitely not in the same ways but you knew it meant this was just how she acted. so every touch, glance, innocent kiss was pushed to the back of your mind whilst you ignored the growing desire from the bottom of your stomach. it was just platonic, it held no meaning. 

your days always started out the same, by purposely taking longer to get ready for training if it meant you got to have your usual morning interaction with leila. you sat in your cubby in the locker room, pretending to adjust your socks or pointlessly scrolling through your phone. Every time the door opened your head turned, and it was as if the room lit up when she walked in. 

“good morning princesa” leila greeted you, just as she did every morning, cupping her hands on your cheeks as she leant down for her lips to meet your forehead, “how was your evening? did you sleep well?” she smiled, beaming down at you, a smile that felt like rays of sunshine had taken over the room. 

it was just platonic, you reminded yourself. 

“si, muy bien” your spanish response caused the spaniard to raise her eyebrows, she had been teaching you small bits of spanish since you transferred just over a year ago after telling her your goal of one day playing for barca. 

“qué hiciste anoche?” she asked, pressing for another spanish reply, wanting to see if her lessons were paying off. 

“umm sali a cenar uuh” you stuttered before pausing for a moment, your eyes squinted as you thought of what to say next to impress the spaniard “con una amiga”, content with your answer, you opened your eyes again to meet her gaze. 

her reaction was to instantly squeeze your face in her grip as she quickly placed more kisses on your forehead, “you’re getting better everyday!” she said, her face beaming before her hands dropped and she made her way to her cubby, 3 spaces down from where you were sitting. 

it was just platonic.

your cheeks had flushed a deep red colour, you cleared your throat before catching the eyes of jill who was sat across from you, her eyebrows raised at the obvious effect leila had on you. you furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head at her, dismissing any speculation she could’ve been making. jill shook her head, knowing how oblivious you were to the targeted affection you received from leila. 

“you ready?” alanna said, stopping in front of you, completely snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“yep” you were quick to stand up, breaking jill’s gaze, alanna’s arm wrapped around your shoulder as the two of you walked towards the pitch. 

you had grown close to alanna after spending countless evenings with her, leila, laia and jill, especially when you first transferred. whilst you knew some of your teammates before transferring, the four of them had welcomed you with open arms, helping you settle into your new flat and manchester life. you and laia had bonded over being the younger members of the group, often ‘bullying’ the slightly older girls when one of them began to show their age. 

“did you enjoy your morning greeting today?” she asked, pushing into your shoulder playfully. alanna was the only one you mentioned your confused feelings to, she tried to explain that she thought leila shared those feelings but you were set in your mind of not believing her. 

“alanna it’s just how she shows affection, you guys are always walking around together, linking arms and everything” you rolled your eyes, continuing your walk to the training pitch. 

“have you seen her acting like that with anyone else?” she questioned, grabbing your arm and stopping you in your tracks. 

“well yes, maybe not everything but other things” you returned, shaking your head dismissively. 

she immediately rolled her eyes at your comment, “there’s no way you don’t see how she acts differently with you, she’s all over you, literally all the time.” she emphasised. “anyone can tell you th-“

“lans stop” you cut her off, “i don’t want to get my hopes up, i know it’s platonic and i’ve accepted that” you sighed, before continuing to walk towards the pitch, leaving alanna stood in the doorway. 

for a split second you turned around to see whatever alanna would be following you, however leila had quickly caught up to her and the two of them seemed deep in conversation. you brushed it off before going onto the pitch, ready to start your training session and forget about what alanna had mentioned. 

you spent the entire session pushing yourself as much as you could, ensuring every movement flowed perfectly and every attempt was on target. everything you had was put into the session.

“you did well, mi amor” leila said, her hand resting on your lower back as you stood taking a water break, goosebumps instantly covered your body at the contact, “are you excited to go out later for alanna’s birthday?” she asked. 

it was just platonic.

“of course, i’m excited to get a bit tipsy” you smiled, putting your water down as you spoke. 

“only a bit though, you can’t get too drunk princesa, even if we have a day off tomorrow” she laughed slightly, her hand now drawing circles on your back. 

“princesa this, princesa that, get a room” jill mocked, reaching for her water bottle and rolling her eyes. your eyes instantly widened and your cheeks went bright red.

“cállate, sabes que quiero compartir habitación con ella” leila spoke, aiming her spanish towards jill who probably didn’t know what she was actually saying. she spoke too fast for you to truly understand what she was saying other than telling jill to shut up and wanting something.

“oye leila, i heard that” laia announced, as she made her way over to the three of us. you were a bit lost at this point, not sure where the conversation was going and you could tell jill couldn’t really tell what was happening either. 

“whatttt? it is true” she shrugged with a small smile and a laugh. 

training had finished and you headed back to your flat, you had planned to just relax before you had to get ready for alannas birthday celebration but your phone pinged which peaked your attention. 

laia - what are you wearing tonight?

you - hmm something tight and short probably

laia - perfecto i’ll pick you up at 7

you - gracias amiga

laia - those spanish lessons are really paying off, you must be paying a lot of attention ;)

you - shut up its for my future

laia - sure thing nena

you made a slow start on getting ready, doing exactly as you told laia by putting on something tight and short. as much as you told yourself it was platonic, you’d never miss out on a chance to purposely catch her attention, especially when it came to what you were wearing. 

your attempt to slowly get ready meant at 6:55 you began rushing to do the final finishing touches, a knock on your door stopped the rampage you were on trying to find the right lipstick shade that matched your lip liner. you ran to the door, unlocking and opening it, not paying attention to the person standing behind it before running into the bathroom to finish your lipstick. 

“laia im nearly ready i promise, i need like two minutes” whilst you didn’t hear a response, you heard the door close as the person stepped into your flat. 

you leant forward over your bathroom counter as you did your lipstick in the mirror, focusing on getting it exactly perfect until a figure appeared in the doorway behind you. 

your eyes widened at the person staring back at you in the mirror, “oh leila, i didn’t see you there”, spinning around to meet her eyes as you watched her eyes scan your body up and down.

“you look… incredible” she mumbled, her tongue flicking across her lips. like clockwork, your cheeks flashed bright red as your body instantly heated in response to her words. 

“thank you” you smiled nervously, “you look really good” you added, taking a moment to take in the way her clothes fit her perfectly whilst her hair flowed down her shoulders. she thanked you in response, of course calling you amor in the process before leaving the two of you stood there in silence for a few minutes. strangely enough the silence wasn’t awkward, it felt comfortable and safe, even if your entire body was on fire.

but of course that meant nothing, because it was just platonic.

“are you ready?” she asked, breaking the silence, prompting the two of you to go down to laia who was probably getting tired of waiting in the car.

“uh yes sorry lets go” you smiled, she moved to the side allowing you to pass through. 

you both made your way down to the car, now running ever so slightly late, trying to ignore the now building tension between you and leila. 

it didnt take long to get to the dinner venue, instantly being greeted with a shot of vodka when you entered. you took the shot, winching at the strong taste, before spotting alanna and going towards her. 

“happy early birthday” you smiled as you embraced your close friend, “how’s it feel to be basically middle aged” you joked, playfully hitting her shoulder. 

“at least im not closer to the age of a child than an adult, so maybe you need to go do your homework and get an early night” she bit back, returning your playful shoulder hit. you rolled your eyes, laughing at the sassy response you were given from before stepping back to allow the others to greet her. 

you watched as alanna whispered something in leila’s ear, leilas face lighting up as she spoke before the two of you glanced over at you. you furrowed your eyes slightly in confusion before the two of them broke apart allowing both you and laia back into the conversation.

“you look really good, are you trying to impress someone?” alanna directed towards you, your eyes slightly widening as your brain tried to think of some kind of response to that question. 

“what? no i just made an effort tonight” you responded, shaking your head at her accusation. 

“especially in that outfit, you must’ve heard leila likes short skirts” she teased, her and laia both laughing slightly whilst leila directed a smirk towards you. 

the truth was you did, that's exactly why you did it, jill had relayed a conversation to you about things leila liked and that specific thing seemed to stick in your head so you decided to act on that information. 

“i already told her she looks incredible” leila interjected, “i think i like the skirt the most though”, she added, her smirk only growing. 

“no no, shut up, i just really liked this outfit, not to impress leila, shut up” you defended, diverting your eye contact from leila’s gaze, ���i’m going to get a drink” you announced, avoiding the truth, before excusing yourself to the bar.

you sighed as you reached the bar, leaning on your elbows, your head into your hands as your heart felt like it was beating through your chest. 

“everything okay?” jill said, patting her hand on your head before standing next to you. 

you silently shook your head, before putting your head up to look at jill. “i think i need to get with someone, like anyone, i can’t keep doing this” you spoke, about to put your hand up to call the bartender over until jill grabbed your arm, pulling it down. 

“im not letting that happen, you aren’t the type of person to just get with anyone, we both know that” she was right, you wanted to feel connection and love, not just a random body pressed against yours. your problem was that you wanted a specific person, a very specific person, who didn’t want you. 

“there’s that saying umm erm” you stuttered, trying to remember the phrase, “it’s you have to get under someone to get over someone else, that’s what i need to do” you insisted. 

“can you be for real right now? we can all see you like leila, and we all know leila likes you back, how can you not see it?” jill rolled her eyes as she spoke. 

“i refuse to believe that jill, she acts the same way with everyone, it’s platonic” you interrupted her, trying to reason with her. 

“she’s literally been dying to ask you out but thinks that you don’t like her back, i know you’re wearing that outfit because of what i said, you want her as much as she wants you” her words had left you silent, not sure how to process them. “what is it going to take for you to see that too?” she asked. 

you shook your head dismissing her comment before turning to the bartender to order yourself a drink that had more alcohol content than you probably should’ve drank. it didn’t take you long to drink it, noticing jill leaving out the corner of your mind but not paying much attention to it. 

“nena come and dance, you look too good to be there all night” laia prompted, mentally pulling you from your daze and physically pulling you onto the dance floor. 

the alcohol had hit your bloodstream, you weren’t drunk by any means, or even tipsy, but compared to your previous state you had relaxed massively. you let yourself lose control as you joined laia and a few of your other teammates on the dance floor. it was like your ‘get under someone to get over someone’ attitude had disappeared and all you wanted to do was genuinely enjoy yourself, exactly as jill had predicted. 

suddenly a pair of arms wrapped round your waist from behind, “you having fun?” they questioned, their breath on your neck instantly heating your body, but you recognised the voice and the tattoo arms that had a hold on you. 

“of course i am, are you?” you questioned back, staying in her arms as you swayed in time with the music. 

“si, it’s been fun watching you dance” she whispered, only furthering the heat that was spreading across your body. one of her hands travelled down your outer thigh, clutching the hem of your skirt, “this is very cute, is it for me?”. 

you hadn’t seen this side of leila before, you were used to the touching, or the occasional cheeky comments that she would make but this felt like something else, you'd go as far as saying it seemed like she was flirting with you. whatever it was, it didn’t feel platonic.

her hands lay back on your waist as she spun you around so you were facing her, “i like this view a lot more”, she smirked, her eyes flicking between your lips and your eyes. 

“leila, have you been drinking?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at the sudden confidence the spaniard had found. 

“not at all, i’m just tired of you being so oblivious to every attempt i try to make” she commented casually, shrugging her shoulders as if she was telling me her shopping list. 

you shook your head, "don't play with me, it’s not funny”.

she quickly looked around her surroundings before grabbing your hand, guiding you towards the entrance of the venue. you stood outside the front of the club looking at her as if she had six heads, confused as to why she’d rush the two of you outside. 

“do you seriously not believe what everyone has been telling you?” she questioned with a small laugh as if she couldn’t believe the amount of attempts it was taking to get you to realise the attraction. 

“no i -” you were quickly interrupted.

“i want you, more than i can describe, i’ve spent months trying to figure out if you felt the same and when lani told me you did it was as if nothing else mattered and i was so set on showing you how i felt. i’ve literally kissed your head every day for the past 3 months, and you just thought i was being friendly, when have you ever seen me do that to anyone else?” she rambled, confessing everything she’d been holding back, “i wanted to wait and take you on a date but you showed up tonight looking like this and i couldn’t stop myself, do you believe me now?”

you stood staring at her in shock for a few moments, everything you wanted her to say she had finally said and yet you couldn’t process a word she said.

“you like me?” you asked.

“yes, i really like you”

“more than friends?” you asked again. 

“well yeah, that’s what ‘i want you’ means” she answered.

“so it’s not platonic?” you continued.

“if that word means the same in english and spanish then it’s not platonic, i want to be more than friends, i want to show everyone you’re mine in every way possible” she clarified. 

“is this a good time to say i like you too” you commented, looking down at your hands, twisting your ring around your finger as if leila hadn’t just confessed everything she could. 

she closed the gap between the two of you, using her finger to raise your chin so your eyes were meeting hers, “it’s the perfect time mi amor” she smiled, cupping your jaw before pulling you closer as your lips met in perfect sync.

i guess it wasn’t just platonic then.

(blame any spelling or grammar mistakes on google docs xx)

[frenchvanilla-mase]

fans are assholes | r. dias

summary: fans compare your pregnancy to fellow wags, leaving you to feel not so good.

notes: as requested! i don’t think i specified that it was twins but it still works. dad!ruben has to be my fav genre 🤪 i hope you all enjoy, some very cute at moments 💘 let me know what you all think! <3

IT WAS MATCH DAY, and although you were feeling rough like you had done the last 7 months, you had promised your fiancé you would make it to today’s knockout game rather than watching from home. he wanted you to support from the stadium, but he also wanted to get you out of the house too.

you were 32 weeks along and feeling very heavily pregnant.

yeah, it’s all fun and games when dating a tall man until you have to grow his unnecessarily large children.

all you wanted to do was lie down and moan this entire trimester, having nothing but a hard time with this one you were growing. you’d had every bad symptom imaginable, from the nonstop sickness and heartburn, to back and hip pain, difficulty sleeping and sore boobs, and now in the final stages you were experiencing braxton hicks, so yeah - all you did want was to lie down and whine. more than ever, you just wanted to stay in the comfort of your own home and nest.

“—you’re not even nesting though! you’re sitting here watching tv all day! get up and get ready!” rúben had said to you just yesterday morning after you’d told him you were too busy nesting to grab a coffee with him before training.

“mama, i think you should go tomorrrow . .” another sweet voice said from the sofa, glancing sympathetically in your direction.

your sweet boy, elias, didn’t want to offend you and make you feel like a slob, but he really wanted you both to go to his papa’s games. with school, you didn’t allow him to go to any late night matches which were always the majority, but tomorrow’s kickoff was 3:30pm and when he pitched the idea, you felt awful for feeling like you’d deprived him of some fun memories.

you really didn’t want to go, but your baby boy deserved it. he’d been working so hard in the last weeks of school and rúben would agree that you needed to take him - he wanted you both there just as much but he also knew not to tell a pregnant woman what to do - he wasn’t the one carrying an 8lb baby around in all summer.

“you nearly ready, baby?!” you called from your room, trying your best to look acceptable for today’s outing. you couldn’t remember the last time you’d done your makeup and styled your hair so neatly, baby dias was really kicking your butt that you hardly had any energy after a shower, let alone doing your makeup and hair.

you really needed them out so you could go back to your old self.

you didn’t remember pregnancy being this hard with eli. with him, you were able to get through the rest of school with him growing in your belly! taking notes and listening in class. sure, you had sickness and a sore back but that was really only at the start and at the end. given, you were younger and full of energy.

eli came along in the last of your teen years but you wouldn’t change anything for the world, same with rúben. he blamed that baby boy for being the reason he pushed himself so hard to get where he was today. he was such an easy pregnancy, and an easy kid.

being honest, you felt more unprepared for this new baby as a grown adult than you did as a teenager back in 2016.

with a few thuds across the landing and a solid jump at your bedroom door, you turned to see your 8-year-old all ready holding two thumbs up. with a man city kit on and trainers, he looked like rúben more than ever. seriously, if you got a photo of rúben back then, it was like looking at eli with a slightly different haircut. it scared you so much. “ready!”

traffic was always bad no matter what time you left, but you got there in one piece and already left eli with one of your closest friends and bernardo’s wife, ines, while you had to run to the bathroom even after such a short journey. jeans were longgg out of the equation so you’d gone with some loose, white trousers to go with the blue football shirt, hoping they didn’t wrinkle too much but still looked good with the outfit. “you are glowing!”

“no, it’s probably just my highlighter,” you pointed to your cheekbone as ines laughed cheerfully.

“no! you look amazing, what are you talking about?! i have missed you!” she couldn’t help but hug you again. “you’re ready to pop!”

she felt your bump and you huffed a sigh, pulling your sunglasses down, “i know, it feels like it.”

you didn’t really like being out this far along, not because you were afraid, but you were at that stage were you were starting to feel gross. like, you looked like a whale no matter what you wore or styled yourself to look like. realistically – you were one of the most beautiful pregnant women the internet had saw. truly, you may have felt like an elephant, but you were still posted on WAG accounts, getting shared by millions of women who begged they could only look as good as you when pregnant or better - envied you for still looking so hot while suffering the struggles of pregnancy.

how?! 😭❤️

life’s not fair!!!! 😫

what’s her secret?!!! 😍😭🙏🏼

but you could have gotten a thousand comments like that . . but all it took was the one bad one.

fucking hell, keep her inside 😂🫣

who is that??

🤣🤣🤣🤮🤮

a lot of the time you didn’t care because you knew how the internet worked, and you know the majority were sad-little-pathetic-football-fan men. they barely impacted you.

when it was women on the other hand . . .

“i just can’t believe one woman would say that to another woman,” you tilted your phone to show ines the replies. “what happened to the whole ‘girls help girls?’” you had to put your phone down before you ended up on a gossip page for arguing with people in your comment section.

“it’s always down to jealousy, babe. they hate you ‘cause they ain’t you,” she pointed, the same thing you had told her when she got her first negative comment, and you smiled at her attempt of making you feel better. she was such a good friend.

the internet was a weird place. your life was a weird place, you didn’t think there’d be a day people hated you for simply being with a person. you found it weird paparazzi followed you around when rúben was the famous one. you found it weird there were accounts dedicated to you when you didn’t do anything. it caught you off seeing people notice every little thing about you or knew things you forgot you’d explained. it did add a little bit of pressure knowing you were being watched and most likely compared to other beautiful WAGS. you’d be lying if you didn’t say you’d put on makeup in fear you’d be posted all over those news articles and WAG accounts.

you forgot how stressed matches made you until kickoff, two minutes in and already overthinking how this would go down. rúben had your heart fluttering nontheless with how he ran up and down the pitch, giving orders all sweaty and even repping the captain band for a bit. it made you feel real good about your baby daddy.

“come on, pa!” your son would shout when a bit of a ruffle would occur, his father speaking passionately to the ref with frustrating hand movements.

the halftime whistle blew and you let out a breath, fanning yourself as your body relaxed for a small moment. 0-0. “ma, i need to go to the bathroom.”

“me too, let’s go!”

perks of dating a footballer? renting out their own box for friends and family - including the private bathroom. no queues around hereee.

walking through the rows and steps, you couldn’t help but feel eyes pinned to you. ines would tell you because you’re a WAG of a player (you regret ever educating her on that term) but really you felt like it was because you looked like a whale making her way through the stands.

eli convinced you to do a lap of the stadium just once to ‘stretch your legs’ when really it was something he always liked to do as he believed it ‘made halftime pass quicker’. so hobbling around with few staff members recognising the kid (or rather seeing the clear evidence he was a mini rúben) , you strolled around the packed building, trying to squeeze past football fans, getting stopped once for a picture.

“thank you so much!”

“no worries at all,” you waved to the two girls, shooting them your kindest smile. they were so lovely, and even complimented you for ‘pulling off pregnancy so well’.

“you’re sLayiNg” eli mocked them, taking your hand.

“shut up,” you tutted. you appreciated being told you were still slaying.

“matt!”

the 8-year-old suddenly bolted to a familair security guard in a neon vest who was delighted to see the boy. “my man!”

you didn’t bother rushing over, you were out of breath as it was and decided to just lean on the wall while elias got his quick catch up, waving at matt instead. halftime was almost over. you should be heading back now.

“—not the best one though.”

“—no, sasha is definitely the best wag.”

i swear, the word ‘wag’ triggers you like nothing else.

you tried not to look around, but to your left, you could make out two bodies mingling with each other. both wearing light blue tops with stylish jeans and trainers, the two girls waiting outside the bathroom, trying to talk quietly between then in a mumbled manner.

you were a mum - you had mastered your hearing to hear the grass grow.

“–but sasha’s not pregnant?”

“–but if she was, she’d have a cute bump, not . . ”

their silence had you believe they’d glance in your direction, and it took every bone in your body not to stare dead on at them with a smile to let them know you heard every word - but you didn’t. you played oblivious and stayed watching eli, a forced sweet smile on your lips.

“–foden’s girl always has a cute little bump too!”

“–oh my god, yes. she’s stunning.”

“–he’s stunning too, to be fair.”

“eli, come on son!” you wanted to bang your head on the wall not wanting to endure the conversation anymore. now you’d tune in, you couldn’t tune out.

“–ok. bye matt! see you later,” he didn’t waste a second to return to you. “see you soon, buddy!”

you waved at matt and led him through the crowds, not meaning to hold his hand so tight until he pointed it out. “ow, ma, you’re hurting me.”

“sorry baby.” you didn’t sound sorry but you felt utterly hot and bothered. and not in the good way.

for some unreasonable reason, a small line of carts drove through the halls, and you stood against the wall as they passed by, holding your son by his shoulders. you could hear a small utter of whispers from your side but refused to turn your head. you really needed to fucking sit down.

“—dias’ girl! look at the size of her!”

“–rob that’s so mean! she’s pregnant!”

“WOW!” eli stole your attention as he almost stepped out in front of a last minute one zooming by. you smiled, and quickly manoeuvred him on your way.

“keep going, keep going,” you shuffled behind him in the stands, but stopped amidst a waiting line as someone caused hassle. your foot kicked something. “oh i’m so sorry!”

you accidentally tapped your foot to a lady’s handbag, but she smiled and waved you off. “you’re alright, don’t worry!” shortly adding, “i’m not surprised!” glancing to your belly.

it wasn’t malicious, but it was about to be the last straw of some floodgates. “ha! i know . . I’m like a whale.”

“how far along are you?” her friend asked.

“about 7-8 months,” you smiled sweetly, ignoring the fact they didn’t assure you that you didn’t look like a whale. thanks.

“oh wow!”

“i know,” you fake laughed. why wasn’t this line moving?

“is it twins or just the one?”

you tried to stop your eye twitching. who in the right kind said that?! was that . . a backhanded compliment?! what that even a compliment?! or was she genuinely asking in a stupid and nosey manner? “no, but it feels like it,” you fake laughed, and they did too. twats.

“oh my! you’re so big!”

“he or she will be a big boy or girl,” the other corrected with her pint in hand, knowing her friend’s words had just flown out of her mouth.

“yeah . .” you were done with this conversation but you didn’t dare be rude. thankfully, the line moved, and they waved goodbye. “congratulations!”

“thank you!” you replied, turning back around, mouthing absolute knobheads.

“mum, i don’t think you’re a whale,” eli’s hand patted your own that rested on his shoulder, bringing you back down to earth.

your heart thumped and although he didn’t look at you, your heart melted to a puddle as you squeezed his shoulders and ruffled his hair, knowing you’d embarrass him with a kiss. “thank you baby. you’re always to sweet to me.”

and he was. you actually . . wanted to cry. shock.

“hey!” ines greeted. “where’d you guys go?”

you only shook your head and nodded to you son who was standing again, ready and recharged for more yelling. you felt ines squeeze your hand and you looked at her, “are you ok? you look . .”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you dabbed your eyes and put your sunglasses back on. “just . . stupid stuff, and then e said something really sweet and i just,” you held your heart which made her laugh and reassure her for the time being. “ok, but . . you can tell me, y’know?”

“just being emotional,” you said the obvious, making her laugh as you leaned into her for support.

you would tell her later, but right now, you were going to use the rest of the game as your excuse to start screaming.

-

the game ended on a win. you saw rúben briefly when the players walked around and applauded, and eli mirrored his excitement and happiness, waving and calling to him as he spotted you guys. he was ecstatic you could make it.

it was after 6 by the time you got home and settled. you were about to order food when you second guess your options, today’s events replaying in your mind:

look at the size of her!

sasha would have a cute bump.

you’re so big!

you knew you were pregnant but there were far nicer things to say to a pregnant lady. what a bunch of assholes.

instead, you cooked some carbs up for eli and made yourself a seperate dinner, feeling the need to watch what you were eating now - you’d be giving birth soon and all those pregnancy cravings didn’t just leave when the baby came. you weren’t silly - you weren’t going to deprive yourself of food, but maybe they had a point - why wasn’t your bump considered cute? was it hard to tell you were pregnant? what were you doing differently?

you were on the verge of calling sasha and asking her what she put in her green smoothies when the door opened.

“meu amor?”

“in here champ,”

something rúben didn’t expect to see what you lying on the couch with a salad balanced on your bump, and you munching away like it was a 5-star dish. “what’s this about . . ?” he smiled sceptically, dropping his bag to the floor.

“what’s what?”

“that.” he nodded to your plate.

you shrugged. “took a notion for it.”

“for . . a salad?” he clarified, looking down at you, entertained in some sense.

your craving for the last 5 months had been anything with chocolate frosting on it. rúben had watched you talk yourself out of buying a tub of it on its own because you knew if was weird and would have to bake go use it.

“yeah.”

to be fair, the salad was tasty, and you were enjoying it but . . at 7 months pregnant? rúben tilted his head. “where’s eli?”

“is his room.”

“he had salad too?”

“he had pasta and garlic bread.”

now he knew something was up. you? not eating garlic bread? italian in general?

someone had said something to you.

he looked at you concerningly, but he was too afraid to ruin the peaceful moment. you seemed calm. he had won a game and you were in a good mood today. baby boy or girl mustn’t be giving you too much trouble so that was a win in itself. so he just leaned down and kissed you lovingly. “hi.”

“hi,” you smiled, pecking him three more times before he rose again. “well done today.”

“thank you,” his hand touched your belly for about two seconds before you swept it off smoothly with your own, squeezing it instead. you smiled up at him again, “love you.”

he kissed you again trying to hide his confusion – but something was up. you were being odd. “love you too.”

and he left and headed for eli’s room, leaving you to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding before slouching again and continuing with your dinner.

-

the rest of that evening, rúben was correct. you weren’t yourself.

your mind was somewhere else, and your head wasn’t out of your phone. constantly scrolling, you had overanalysed every picture captured of you today and tried not to nitpick. reading comments. comparing yourself. he wondered what you were doing.

but everyone else did have small bumps. everyone’s looked so cute. they didn’t use pregnancy as an excuse to eat whatever they wanted or slack with self-care. they still wore tight clothing. they still looked gorgeous. you began to compare yourself to all these other wives and girlfriends on the page, wondering how on earth they looked that good.

ummmm, ‘cause maybe they’re 12 weeks along and you’re triple that?

the next morning, rúben kissed you in the kitchen before leaving. “what’s that?”

“what?”

“that,” he nodded to the drink in your hand.

“a smoothie?”

“for breakfast?”

“well yeah,” you furrowed your brows, and he immediately shook his head, pulling that judgemental, disapproving look you sometimes wanted to punch. “no, no, come on, don’t be silly, now,” he almost laughed, “you need to eat something proper.”

“it’s a smoothie, it has everything i need in it?”

“y/n, make something to eat. you’re almost 8 months pregnant for crying out loud,” he looked at you seriously. he didn’t want to sound like he was scolding you or making you feel stupid but you knew he was worried about the lack.

overprotective rúben had always been a constant in your relationship but when you were pregnant — phew, “you got my baby in there.”

“–and he or she is looked after, it’s a healthy drink—”

he took it from your hand and kissed your cheek in the process, taking it with him to training with a smirk, “stop being lazy and cook.”

you were furious. you were actually annoyed that he had taken the drink himself and didn’t find it funny. he kissed eli’s head and the door closed, and you were left highly irritated.

you couldn’t see eli shrink, but he did, looking wide-eyed at the table as he considered his dad a brave brave man in that moment to do that to you - considering the look of your face.

and as a pregnant woman with her emotional struggling to stay in check - you lost it as they all blended together once eli was dropped off at school, sitting in a car park of a café you regretted going too now that you sat with your decaf latte and triple-choc muffin. the frustration quickly turned to tears as you had a moment, eyes in your hands, thinking over everything the last couple days.

yes you were pregnant, but was there a need to be that big? were you even that big compared to others? were you really that bad to look at? that unflattering? did it even looking like you were pregnant? the loose clothing probably didn’t help, but who wanted to wear tight clothing? pregnancy was hard - it was hard to glamourise it all the time!

you’d never cried over looking bad the first time you were pregnant, maybe once or twice when a pair of jeans didn’t fit or you couldn’t reach your shoelaces, but never over the way you felt about yourself. you actually were starting to feel disgusting, and it was embarrassing because you let randomers make you feel this way!

. . and then the pathetic-ness turned into anger because why were people such assholes?! how can they not keep an opinion to themselves?! making you feel bad about your baby!

. . and then the anger turned to guilt because your sweet little baby was just trying to grow and be healthy and you were upset over it. tears again.

you didn’t know how to fix it. the damage was already done, you had a month left, there was no going back now with salads and smoothies, you yanked your paper bag with your muffin off the floor, eating your money’s worth. rúben subconsciously popped into your head as he was probably eating some fruit salad or nutritious sandwich at this time.

oh rúben. you wished he was here but you also knew you wouldn’t want him near you at the minute, not when you weren’t feeling yourself and you had people in your comments telling you he was on his way of replacing you.

he would call you stupid, but rúben just wouldn’t understand. he wouldn’t get being on the other side, the built in competition that automatically comes with being a woman, more than ever with this lifestyle he had given you. one where you’re compared left right and centre with a certain standard to achieve.

you bet every handbag you owned, he’d screw his face up and go ‘are you serious’ if you told him your issue. he knew you were above anyone commenting stupid things on your posts and found it immature of you in a way if you did take those things to heart - i mean they were nobodies! jealous nobodies! but that’s easy for him to say, his comments are flooded with never ending support, guys praising him for his talent, physique and hard work and most girls telling him to hurry up and leave you. spamming with flame and tongue emojis, thirsting over your man just the way you did, only boosting his ego more which rúben did not need.

so you just felt silly, and picked at your muffin, accepting your were going to be a whale wag.

you felt like a slob when you got back home, staying on the couch after cleaning, and then crying except you were watching a movie to blame it on that.

you still couldn’t get comments out of your head, i mean what was an ‘expired wag?!’ or a ‘busted oven?!’ what did that mean? and why always the skull emojis?!

scrolling once again through photos of comparison, you scrolled onto a beautiful pic of your beautiful bestie, ines, and straight away phoned her. “hey.”

“hey! what’s up! what’s going on? why do you sound you out of breath?”

“why do you think?” you laughed.

“girl are you crying again?!”

and you started talking. you had to get things off your chest and you needed ines to make you feel better, to assure you and let you rant, and she happily did, after all, you’d always been there when she was having a moment.

“–what did rúben say?”

“nothing, i haven’t told him anything. he’ll just tell me i’m being ridiculous.”

“he won’t!”

“ines, he would, he’s not like bernardo. rúben’s harsh!”

“so are you! which is why i can’t believe you’re still crying over this!”

he was harsh in the good way, in the same way you were. you were both practical. real. realistic. you picked each other up and told each off when you were being ridiculous. pulled each other out their asses. brought you back down to earth.

but you just needed comforted at this current moment by your girl.

as you continued to chat and laugh more than you thought, the front door opened without your acknowledgment and rubes stepped through. freshly showered after a long morning of training, he instantly heard your voice rambling over the phone. he took notice of the tissue also crumpled on the floor by the door (you’d been carelessly tossing them for dramatic effect) and paused after he thought he’d heard a sad sniffle. he closed the door quietly and crept near the living room.

“i can’t help it, i do just feel . . blegh,” you felt like you were being ridiculous but you couldn’t help it. “like, why does everyone keep making a big fuss about it? am i really that massively huge or am i just not liked?”

he heard another woman’s laughter on your phone and recognised her as soon as she began talking to you, “y/n, i promise no one is making a fuss of it, it probably just seems in your face all the time because you keep going back to check. i promise the world is not broadcasting you,” ines chuckled sweetly, which followed your sad laugh also.

“well the wag world does!”

“y/n!” she laughed, “you’re overthinking it. i promise you have nothing to worry about. the only person who’s opinion should matter to you is rúben’s and everybody knows he has you on a pedestal!” rúben found himself smiling. he’d always been a fan of ines. “he’s called you his wife since you came to manchester! he’s always been proud to show you off, you look good - you look amazing! people are just saying that stuff about you to make themselves feel better.”

“mm, i guess,” you sniffed, holding your forehead. “i don’t know, it’s just been getting to me . . and i’m not saying to rúben because he’ll tell me i’m being stupid. i wouldn’t be surprised if he was leaving an hour earlier in the mornings to get away from me. it’s not like my looks can make up for my psycho-ness anymore,” you joked.

“y/n!” she tried not to laugh. “though, pregnancy psycho-ness is definitely real.”

it is, rúben mentally agreed also, though his heart still sank further as he heard you talk about yourself in such ways. he didn’t want to call you ridiculous but come on, you were pregnant! didn’t they all count as compliments to a pregnant lady?!

“it is,” you let out a sigh, “i wouldn’t want to be around me either, just this big angry rhino walking around the house,” you laughed together, “he goes to a paris event on friday anyway, he’ll get a break and have plenty of french models to—”

a clear of a throat had you whipping your head to the door, seeing rúben’s hard stare. your mouth went dry. “uhhh, ines i’ll call you back.”

you felt bad hanging up as she was speaking back, too shocked you’d been heard rambling for the last couple minutes. or probably longer! how long had he been standing there?!

“listen—”

“french models?! french models, y/n.”

“rúben, it’s not in context—”

“oh i heard the context, i heard everything,” he came in the room, not one spot of happiness found on his face. he was fuming. you could tell, and disappointed too, you felt like eli getting told off by him, throwing yourself back into the couch as he stood with that gruff, intimidating look, hands shoved in his pockets.

“you don’t get it—” you could already feel the tears welling in your eyes, though a pit of frustration was brewing in your chest hot and fast. this was going one of two ways.

“what don’t i get? you don’t tell me what’s wrong when i ask you!”

“‘cause you wouldn’t understand!”

“ok but what i do understand is my wife accusing me of what? getting to pick which ‘french model’ i want to take home next week?”

now your face fell flat, realising how ridiculous and cruel that sounded. you shouldn’t accuse him of that kind of stuff.

“rubes, i just—” your mouth felt dry again. tears brimming again, you could feel how hot they were. the words were on the tip of your tongue but you didn’t know how they were gonna come out.

“what is it? tell me,” he pushed, eager for you to actually get out what you wanted to say so he could help sort it. “i’m here to listen.”

and you did, you unleashed it all. “people are assholes. your fans are assholes. i’m sorry but i cannot believe the stuff people have no issue saying to other people - pregnant people at that! as if the 9 months aren’t hard enough, i have this mob of men and women on my back, judging and critiquing my every outting. i can’t do it anymore, it’s actually ruining whatever self-confidence i have left!” the tears were streaming as you began your rant, choking down sobs as you moved your hands, a fury behind all the sadness.

rúben crouched down, wanting to be nearer as you let it all out. “every day, every hour, i have someone online, reminding me off how big i am, how unflattering my paparazzi pic is, how whale-like i am! how hard it’s gonna be to shift this baby weight! i’m getting put in competition with every other pregnant wife and girlfriend of your teammate and showed how much better they pull it off! how gorgeous they look all the time! how their bumps are ‘cute’ and small and ‘suits them.’ i heard it myself at your game the other day! it’s like they’ve never seen an un-photoshopped pregnant woman before!” you met his eyes, realising you were probably being silly and that there were bigger problems in the world. “i just feel disgusting, rúben. i never felt like this with eli, i was in this perfect little bubble but this time so different. i don’t want to leave the house when i know a monstrosity of photos are getting taken of me, pointing out every flaw. i don’t have a cute, small bump! i do look like a whale! i can’t dress sexy! and i get what people are saying when they say it’ll be a bit before you can look at me again ‘cause god knows—”

“shh,” he quickly silenced you, placing a finger to your lips. his brows were furrowed as yours did, fed up of hearing you ramble about all the bad things about yourself. he felt pain in a way. he just couldn’t believe you actually thought these things about yourself. “wha— . . . are you being serious?”

“OH MY GOD!” you threw your arms up. see!

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, meu amor,” his big hands softly caressed your legs in front of him, along your smooth thighs to stop you from exploding again, “i’m sorry. it’s just . . i . . it annoys me that you let these things get to you, these random, strange people that you don’t even know. you take their opinion over mine. so mine doesn’t matter, it doesn’t count?” he looked you deeply in the eye, “how does that make sense? explain that to me.”

your head hit the cushion as you groaned but rúben held your hands comfortingly. he didn’t want to make you feel stupid, but he wanted to hear your thought process. “to me, it’s like . . you have the choice of walking into a room full of all these people who hate you, and you know the hate you, after being in one full of people you love . . and you go into the hateful one and are surprised that all these people are saying all these bad things about you when you could have just left it alone and focused on the lovely ones - from people who matter to you! who are actually in your life! do you understand?”

you nodded along, entranced by his eyes and how they were able to ground you alone. “you know that i think you’re the best thing in the world. you know i would love you if—” he thought off the top of his head, “you had 10 extra toes. a third eye. if you had a cow nose. elf ears!” your hair slipped silkily through his fingers, “you know i think you’re the most beautiful woman ever even dressed in a trash bag. i would still love you if you did wear trash bags. if you had a cow nose. if you weighed the same as a cow. if you weighed the same as a baby cow,” you broke a chuckle at that. “i’ve loved you through our ugly teen years, when i shaved my hair and your eyebrows were stick thin,” you laughed more as he let out a breath of relief, “i loved you when with vomit down your shirt and your hair dyed that weird colour—”

“rúbennn . .”

“what? and i loved you when you had eli in your stomach, and he was big baby,” his hand touched your belly, moving it in the same motion he always did because that’s when he got to feel the small kicks of this baby dias. “i loved you even more even when i saw how he came out,” he shot you a wildered look.

you facepalmed, dragging your hand down dreadfully at the thought of having to relive that moment all over again in over a months time.

his features turned as his thoughts turned sour, “why are you letting stupid fucking people affect you?”

“i don’t know . . i guess ‘cause so many people are saying it i . . it must be true to some extent—”

“y/n—”

“seriously, rúben. i don’t have a cute, small bump. ines and rebecca are always such sweet—”

“Y/N! have you SEEN the size of bernardo and phil next to me! is it any wonder they’re small! their child comes out the same size as them!” his hand shot out with passion.

now your head was in your hand with muffled laughter, caught off guard by his statement. “seriously! seriously, now you’re supposed to be the smart one,” he tried to look at you, that loving smile shining your way as his heart sang at the sound of you laughter. “you’re shocked that me, that we, have big babies . . that ines has a much smaller bump than you . . are you serious? that rebecca has a smaller bump than you? rebecca, phil and elway stacked on top of each other wouldn’t even reach the height of me!”

“rúben,” you laughed, feeling an actual blush of embarrassment coat your face at how stupid he’d made you feel, but in a good way.

he was so right. what were you thinking?

“i’m like, the biggest guy on the team! sorry i didn’t realise that was gonna be a problem for you,” you lightly hit his shoulder to wrap up the sarcasm, still giggling. he looked at you from the floor, his hands still on you, on your leg on bump — the bump that he did make look small next to his hand. “and please remember you’re a month away from giving birth, you’re supposed to be a healthy size. and i been going to training an hour earlier ‘cause i know when this one comes along, i’ll not want to go as much and i’ll want to stay with you both. i’ll start working on my dad bod . .” he felt the small, subtle movement happening inside, but he could feel them if he kept still enough.

“you’d look good with both.” you rolled your eyes.

“and you’d still look better. y/n, you’re not a whale. please stop saying that,” he finally crept to his feet, climbing on the couch on top of you, leaning his arm behind your head. “you are the most beautiful-est woman to me and no-one, NO-ONE can convince me otherwise. you’re my standard of perfect, of gorgeous and sexy and all the rest of it. i’ve found you sexy before this baby, during this baby, and after this baby — i still get comments of people telling me how ugly i look when you’re next to me! you bring my value down!”

his arm wrapped around your neck while the other threw itself over your bump, shifting and snuggling into the sofa more comfortingly, you relaxed alongside him, the tears no trickling down but with good reason behind them as you were shocked to find your love growing even more for rúben when you thought it was impossible. “i don’t know what comments you’re seeing because all i see are the ones calling you a milf, and it takes too much time to try and report them all.”

you held his hand at your shoulder, his lips kissing your cheek repeatedly, over and over again. you knew how much he loved you. “yeah, you’re right. fans are just . . assholes.”

“fans are assholes,” he agreed, stroking your cheekbone, “. . don’t listen to them. you think i listen to everything they say about me?” he perked a brow.

sometimes! you wanted to say but knew better. it was rhetorical question, and you knew his sweet intentions.

“alright? i don’t so why should you? you’re hot stuff babe,” he looked at the side of your face, inspecting every little freckle and faint scar, he just wanted to never stop kissing you. “i love you the way you are. eli loves you for the way you are, and this baby,” he rubbed circles on your belly, “he or she is going to be so unbelievably lucky when they see who they have as their mam. i know it’s not the smallest bump but i think it’s the cutest i’ve ever saw, with my baby girl or boy in there,” he kissed the size of your stomach. he grew more and more excited each day as he got a day closer to meeting who was inside. he couldn’t wait. “. . who they get their good looks from and skill and personality - well, i mean i would like to take some credit for the both of those ‘cause i mean their daddy is pretty c—”

you playfully jabbed his side, making him laugh. “yeah, he’s the hottest one on the field,” you glanced at him, kissing his cheek.

one thing about him, he’d always blessed you with beautiful children.

“yeah, and their mum is coolest one at the school pick up,” his lips trailed along your cheek to your jaw, the slight scruff of his beard tickling you. “you’re the biggest milf to walk the planet–”

“rúbennn,” you chuckled, blushing at his words whilst trying to push him away.

“i’m serious,” he proceeded, peppering kissed down your neck, “and she’s coming to paris with me for the weekend so she can outshine me like she does at every event she comes to.”

you laughed at that, smiling dreamily as he proceeding to love on you.

“and eli?”

“elias gets to stay with his favourite uncle who owes a favour,” he winked.

“hmm. ok.”

“and i’ll give her a reason to cry if she starts thinking like that again,” he whispered in your ear.

your heart slipped a beat. “oh yeah?”

“ohh yeahhh,” he nodded, standing to his feet, not before a loud ‘smack’ echoed the room as he mimicked what your poor backside would get if you kept up that kind of behaviour. “see you upstairs, mama.”

you blew your hair from your face, heart thumping, your hands slowly crept up to your adorable little bump where you caressed it gently as he headed for upstairs, whispering softly, “you are soo lucky he’s your papai.”

your heart raced as he peeled his hoodie off, back muscles staring right at you as he headed for your room, you felt your insides begin to sizzle.

— but you were even luckier he was your husband.

[chelseacult]

Love You A Little Bit

Leila Ouahabi x Reader

Summary: you're always encouraging Leila to practice her English.

Word Count: 6.5k words

You knew facing Manchester United at Old Trafford wouldn’t be easy. The roaring applause every time a United player surges forward or makes a clean tackle. The solidity of their defense at your every attempt to attain a spot on the scoresheet. This environment was nothing new. Still, what you weren’t expecting was to walk off the pitch 2-0 down at halftime. 

You walk up to Mary, who eagerly grabs her water bottle from the cooler. She sees you approaching and grabs yours too, holding it out in your direction.

“Thank you,” you say as you grab it from her. “If they keep intercepting my crosses, I’m gonna go crazy,” you add before chugging the rest of the water in your bottle.

“Keep trying! I’ll get on the end of one eventually. Probably,” Mary shrugs, laughing slightly before following suit and chugging the remnants from her water bottle. You let out a matching laugh at her words. Mary spares you a quick smile before she turns to converse with Alanna. With Mary’s attention elsewhere, you use this opportunity to search for the person you’re most eager to speak with. When your eyes finally land on Leila, she’s speaking with Jill near the city goal, both of them looking dispirited. 

You start walking in their direction, crossing nearly half the field to reach them. You approach just as the two women are separating from a quick embrace that Leila initiated, your girlfriend ever the affectionate type. Jill gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she walks past you. 

“Score next time!” you call after her, glancing back with a grin. By the time she replies, you’re already looking at Leila, reaching a hand out for her, so you miss the matching grin you can hear in Jill’s voice. “You first!” Jill shouts back, continuing her walk to the locker room.

Leila stifles a laugh at the interaction, reaching for the hand that you have extended toward her. She turns and begins to lead you two off the pitch, only walking about a foot before you pull her back into a hug. She immediately melts into you, and you feel her hands pressing against the small of your back as you hold each other. 

“45 more minutes. We’ve got this,” you attempt to console the woman in your arms. You feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the warmth of her body pressed against yours almost acting as a barrier from the commotion of the grueling first half. For a second, neither of you moves, just enjoying the shared warmth in the brisk Manchester weather. She eventually pulls back and nods, but you can tell she doesn’t really believe your words.

“Not if I keep playing like this,” Leila sighs heavily in frustration. Her shoulders slump ever so slightly as she removes her hands from your body and runs them down her face. You know her well enough to know that her thoughts are likely working against her after the team’s less-than-ideal defensive performance.

“I believe in you,” you speak softly, taking her hands gently in yours. You pull them up to your mouth to press a tender kiss to each set of knuckles. Her eyes search yours, looking for any indication that you’re not being completely truthful. Obviously, she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. But from the way her eyes soften, you’re guessing she likes what she finds there instead.

“My number one fan, hmm?” Leila teases, her voice lighter as she seems to perk up at your words. A faint smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, and the weight on her shoulders seems to lift a bit.

“Duh,” you speak confidently, leaving her no option but to fully believe your words this time. She rolls her eyes affectionately before lifting your hands to her mouth and mirroring your actions, placing a quick kiss on each knuckle. You’re not the least bit surprised at the warmth that erupts in your chest.

“Thief,” you say lightheartedly, referring to Leila copying your gesture. You’re completely aware that your voice sounds slightly winded as a result of feeling her lips on your skin. She moves your hands away from her mouth but keeps hold of them.

“I want you to feel how I felt when you did it to me,” she says earnestly. And while you’re still not surprised by the way she has your heart skipping a beat, you do still struggle to grapple with how she does it so effortlessly. 

“How did you feel?” you can’t resist asking, hoping she’ll take the bait and reveal that she’s feeling everything you’re feeling right now.

“You tell me,” she urges with a tilt of her head, her smile widening.

“Excuse me! I asked you first,” you press further, amusement in your voice.

“I’ll answer for the both of you. You love each other. Amazing. Let’s go!” Khiara interrupts with a playful laugh that you both echo. She shuffles between you two, wraps one of her arms around both of your respective shoulders, and leads the way to the locker room. 

Alex is already speaking by the time the three of you arrive at the locker room, the energy a mix of unintelligible conversation and low motivation. You and Leila walk over to your locker and settle on the bench perched in front of it. As you sit side by side, you begin to playfully take turns nudging each other’s leg, almost like a quiet game of footsie. You tune in to Alex’s words as she shifts her attention to the City defense.

“We need to talk about defense. They’re cutting through us like we’re not even there,” she speaks, looking back and forth between the other three defenders. 

Kerstin is the first to respond. “Yeah, I don’t know what’s happening. I’m shattered. Anyone else think they got faster since the last time we played them?”

“Right? I was thinking the same thing. They’re barely letting me pass,” you agree. Kerstin enthusiastically nods and gestures a hand your way, silently emphasizing your words.

Leila, who had been sitting next to you quietly with her arms crossed, leans forward eagerly. 

“It is because we are not keeping our shape. If Laia moves to the right by Kerstin and I stay left, they will move outside.” Leila stops her rant momentarily to look over at Alex. “Alex, you are always good. I have no advice.”

“I am already on the right! You are the one drifting,” Laia defends.

“I do not drift. I reposition to cover everyone else,” Leila argues back.

Alex holds back a grin at their arguing before allowing it to drop and speaking seriously. “I don’t know, Leila. If we’re spread too thin, they can manipulate the gaps.”

Viv chimes in. “Yeah, and like Kerstin said, their forwards are fast. If we force them out, there’s a chance we don’t recover.”

Leila’s face falls slightly. “It was just an idea,” she mutters under her breath, crossing her arms and leaning back slightly, her weight pressing against your side.

While your teammates brainstorm other ideas, you nudge her with your elbow, leaning in closer. “I think it’s a good idea,” you say softly. 

“You are the only one,” she smiles slightly, but her gaze remains stuck on the floor. The faint scratches on the tiles hold her attention as if they’re the most interesting things she’s ever seen.

“Well, I matter the most,” you shrug before nudging her again, willing her to look at you. You notice that her smile has shifted into something more genuine when she shifts her attention to you. She reaches a hand forward and traces a finger down your cheek, her touch lingering for a minute.

“Alright, Leila, we’re trying your plan. It’s the best one we’ve got,” Alex decides. Leila attempts to hide the excitement in her nod as Alex continues. “Everyone needs to step it up. Cover for each other. We can’t keep giving them so much space to work with.” Everyone takes in her words before they begin to empty out of the locker room.

Leila turns to you as you both get up from the bench and begin to follow the others out of the room. “It will help if you go up the wing faster when we yell to press. If you are fast, we can counterattack,” she says encouragingly.

“Do you mean, like, a high press or just marking?” you ask for clarification as you reach the door, pressing your back against it to keep it open for her.

 Leila stops in front of you as she searches for the right words. “When we all go forward. What is that?”

“Pressure?” you suggest. You reach up and brush a rogue piece of hair out of her face, and she absentmindedly leans into your touch.

“Sí! I said that,” she exclaims as grabs your hand, directing the two of you to begin walking toward the field again. 

“You said ‘press,’ babe. It’s not the same,” you tease with a playful smile and a squeeze of her hand.

“English is ridiculous,” Leila sighs, throwing her head back exasperatedly, but she squeezes your hand back a couple times.

“It’s a good thing you have a live-in English tutor then,” Lauren jokes, having been listening to your conversation from behind you as you walk. She grins as you and Leila laugh in response, not waiting for either of you to reply before she rushes ahead of you and onto the pitch.

Leila straightens up and glances at you with a playful grin. “I do not need help. I am almost like a native speaker.”

“Because of me!” you insist with a matching grin, bumping the side of your body into hers. 

“As a thank you, I buy you dinner when we get back home,” Leila offers as she slides her hand from yours. The smell of freshly cut grass takes over your senses as you step onto the pitch.

“Deal,” you reply. Leila shoots you one last smile before the two of you separate, running to your respective positions.

⟡

Leila’s plan was successful, aiding Manchester City in recording a 3-2 comeback win. United’s defense finally let you through long enough to set up a chance for Mary before netting two in the back of the net yourself.

At the final whistle, Leila beelines to you. “Vamos, mi amor!” she screams excitedly before wrapping her arms around you and lifting you off the ground for a minute. 

“Two goals in two minutes! Increíble!” she adds, placing you back down on the grass. The way she’s smiling at you when she pulls back makes your knees weak, and you feel like you could melt into the grass beneath your feet. You hope the look on your face accurately reflects the amount of adoration you feel for her

“Enough about me, baby, you were amazing! I told you! 45 minutes was all we needed,” you tell her with matching excitement.

“We were amazing,” she counters, her smile unwavering.

“Yeah, you’re both amazing. Don’t forget my assist,” Jill interrupts with a smug grin and wink in your direction. 

“Who passed you that ball, eh?” Leila reminds the midfielder, giving a gentle shove to Jill’s shoulder.

“I don’t remember,” she says with a shrug, her tone indicating that she absolutely does remember.

“Too distracted by my worldie?” you chime in, flashing Jill a grin. “I think the second goal was one of my best.”

Leila responds with an enthusiastic “It was!” at the same moment Jill says, “Of course not. You just got luck.” Her remark earns a gasp from Leila. 

“She was lucky two times?” Leila asks with raised eyebrows.

“Exactly,” Jill affirms, unable to keep the serious look on her face from turning into a smile.

“If you’re really that upset that you’re not on the scoresheet, I can bribe the officials to say one of my goals was yours,” you say with faux sympathy present in your voice and on your face, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

Jill chuckles at your words. “Good. I think that’s fair, especially after how good my assist was.”

“You forgot I had to chase the ball halfway down the field before passing to you?” Leila asks, clearly amused.

“Fine, team effort,” Jill gives in. “But my assist made it cool.”

Before either of you can respond, a voice calls out from behind you. “Leila! [Y/N]! Interview time!”

Leila groans at the interruption, and you match her annoyance as you glare in the direction of the voice, neither of you fans of doing media. Jill only laughs, clearly amused by your irritation. 

“Have fun!” Jill exclaims before you part ways with her, you and Leila heading to the woman waiting to interview you both on the sidelines. 

You answer all of the interviewer’s questions with ease, the nervousness you’re feeling never once coming to the surface—one of your greatest strengths if you do say so yourself. When the woman shifts her questioning to Leila, you pass her the microphone that’s been residing in your hands for the last several minutes.

Through a thick accent, the interviewer speaks. “So, Leila, we heard from Alex that putting pressure high up the field was your idea! United seemed to really struggle with getting through the City side during the second half. What exactly did you see from United in the first half that made you think this was the right move?” 

You can almost guarantee from the look on Leila’s face and her intense eye contact with the interviewer that she’s struggling to make out what exactly she’s being asked. Your assumption is confirmed upon Leila thrusting the microphone back into your hands, silently asking you to take this one.

You keep the microphone low to ensure it doesn’t pick up on the encouraging words you send Leila’s way—your words a combination of you can do it and don’t overthink it. You try to pass the microphone back to her, but she just stares down at it for a beat before glancing up at you with a pleading look in her eyes.

Despite your heart screaming at you to come to her aid, you’re completely confident in her ability to formulate an answer (even if she doesn’t feel that confidence herself), so you don’t budge. She eventually takes the microphone back and attempts to answer the question. She stumbles over her words here and there, but the encouraging nod you give her every time she glances your way seems to motivate her to keep trying.

“Thank you for your time, girls, and congratulations on the win!” the interviewer finally speaks, unknowingly providing Leila a lifeline. You both thank the woman in return. Leila quickly grabs your hand and drags you down the tunnel before coming to an abrupt stop once you’re a decent ways away from anyone else. 

She drops your hand and turns to look at you, an unreadable expression on her face. Still, you have an idea about why she might be staring at you like this. 

“Don’t be mad at me. You did good!” you reassure as you step closer to her, wrapping your arms around her waist and smiling up at her.

Her resolve falters at that, wrapping her arms around your neck in return. “You are lucky I love you. It was embarrassing.”

“You don’t need my help, remember? You’re like a native speaker,” you tease her with reference to her comment during halftime. She purses her lips and holds back a smile. You do the opposite, letting out a laugh that prompts her to let her smile appear. She shortly follows in your footsteps and joins in your laughter.

“That reminds me,” Leila starts, moving her hands down to your hips and pushing you back against the tunnel wall with a soft thud. 

She leans in, and she’s close enough that you can feel her breath on your ear. She just hovers there, breathing against you, and you struggle to contain the shiver that makes its way through your body. She places several featherlight kisses on the shell of your ear, one of her hands trailing down your neck and resting in the curve between your neck and shoulder. Her thumb runs along your collarbone. 

“Dinner is on you,” she whispers. She punctuates her words with a light tug of your earlobe between her teeth before pulling away from you completely. You exhale, only now realizing you’d been holding your breath. It takes you a minute to realize that she’s waiting for you to take her outstretched hand, only noticing because she’s wiggling her fingers. She laughs at your delay as you reach for it, interlocking your fingers with hers and allowing her to lead the way to the locker room.

⟡

“No, absolutamente no. No voy a hacer eso,” Leila adamantly declines your suggestion to speak to the restaurant staff in English.

“This is the perfect time to practice,” you encourage her with a smile and a squeeze of her knee. She groans and drops her head onto your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. She mumbles something under her breath that you struggle to make out, but the feeling of her breath on your neck gives you goosebumps. You grab the menu with one hand while your other hand wraps around her.

“Babe, look, spaghetti. You can say that, no problem.” You manually move her head off of your shoulder and point to the menu. She sits up begrudgingly before looking at the menu and then back at you with an unimpressed expression.

“Come on, practice with me. Pretend I’m the waitress,” you attempt to convince the stubborn woman sitting next to you. 

She smirks at that, raising her eyebrows and leaning a bit closer. “I did not know you like roleplay, bebé.” You scoff and push her away, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from turning up into a smile despite how hard you try. 

“We will talk about that later,” Leila affirms with a peck to your shoulder before looking back down at the menu. “Spaghetti,” she mumbles to herself.

You wait for her to look up at you before speaking. “Hello, I’ll be your waitress tonight. What can I get for you?” you say in your best customer service voice. 

She briefly hesitates before speaking in your direction. “Hola, I want spaghetti, please,” she matches your false excitement, keeping her eyes on you and waiting for your approval.

“Perfect! Just say ‘hello’ instead of ‘hola,’” you remind your girlfriend.

“Ah, sí. Hello,” she smiles at you.

“Hi,” you smile back. Leila laughs that infectious laugh of hers that you’ll never tire of hearing. Your heart still flutters every time you hear it, especially when it results from something you’ve said. 

She scoots even closer, leaving almost no space between your bodies. She cups your face with both hands and quickly kisses your lips several times before pulling back slightly, her thumbs moving languidly along the curve of your jaw.

“We cannot do this if I am on the other side,” she refers to her constant insistence that you both sit on the same side of the booth when you go out, citing a desire to be near you whenever possible. You roll your eyes at her statement now, just as you did when she first joined you on your side of the booth all those years ago with the same reasoning. The small smile on your face both times tells her that your eye roll isn’t malicious. 

When the waitress approaches your table, you put some space between the two of you but grab her hand to keep some contact. The waitress introduces herself and takes your order before turning toward Leila. “And for you?” she asks kindly.

Leila hesitates for a moment and glances over at you. You give her an encouraging nod before she looks back over at the waitress. Leila opens her mouth before shutting it again and pointing to the spaghetti on the menu.

“Spaghetti?” the waitress confirms, and Leila nods. “Good choice. We’ll have your food out shortly.” 

“Thank you,” you say as the waitress walks away before you turn to Leila, who is seemingly avoiding eye contact with you.

“Leila!” you gently nudge her shoulder with yours.

“Qué? I order spaghetti like you said. You should be proud of me,” she shrugs and smiles smugly. 

“You were supposed to use words like we practiced,” you punctuate your complaint with a gentle nudge of your knee against hers.

She shrugs again, “Same result. I do not even like spaghetti a lot. You should have picked something else for me to get,” Leila says with a dismissive wave in your direction.

“You should’ve looked through the menu yourself,” you exclaim, “you had ample time to change what you were getting. We were waiting for like an hour.”

“I focus on saying it right. Then the woman was here, and too late,” Leila trails off with a sigh. 

Before you can comprehend what she’s doing, Leila grabs the straw out of her drink and flicks it toward you. A tiny splash of soda splattering across your arm and shirt. The cold droplets make you flinch slightly, and your ears are graced with her laugh again. 

“Oops,” she says. Her voice is heavy with mock innocence, clearly not sorry as she twirls the straw between her fingers.

You gasp. “And to think I was just about to offer you half of my pizza!” You move your hand with the intention of grabbing your straw to do the same thing she did, but her hand darts out and grabs it before you can. She places a kiss on the back of it before scooting near you again.

“Oh, lo siento. Lo siento.” She repeats the words a few times, cupping one side of your face and kissing your cheek after every couple of words. Her face remains just inches from yours when she asks, “What flavor is the pizza?”

“You were sitting right there when I ordered. Were you not paying attention to me?” you ask, feigning offense.

“No, no, I was busy looking at how beautiful you are. Obviamente!” Leila says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, placing one last playful, sloppy kiss on your cheek. You dramatically wipe the remnants of her kiss off your face.

“Pineapple,” you reveal before she can comment on your wiping off her kiss. She makes a noise of disgust and looks at you with a face of pure disbelief, like she genuinely can’t fathom why someone would order such an entree. 

“Ugh, no good. Eres tan rara.” Despite her words, she wraps her arms around your neck and leans into you. You follow her lead and wrap your arms around her, leaning your head on hers.

��Spaghetti for you then, my love,” you say before placing a matching kiss on her temple, although she doesn’t wipe yours off.

⟡

The blaring sound of your alarm is a stark contrast to the warm, peaceful energy that had previously encompassed the room. The Spaniard wrapped around you makes no move to reach over and end the disturbance, and neither do you. A silent battle that you two partake in every morning. Leila’s eventual stirring lets you know that she’ll likely be the one to fold this morning. But, for the moment, she tightens her hold on you.

“Mmm, estúpido despertador. Quiero que desaparezca,” she murmurs into your hair as you nuzzle further into her chest, stalling her leaving the bed momentarily. Exhaustion typically draws Leila back to the comfort of her native language. Having just woken up, it takes you a minute to catch her Spanish words before replying.

​​

“It was your idea to put it on the dresser,” you whisper wearily before reluctantly pulling away from her embrace to allow her to get up. 

“You should have told me not to do it.” She attempts to crawl over you to climb out of the bed, but your hands dart out, firmly grasping her hips. The sudden halt stops Leila in her path and leaves her straddling you. 

One of your hands moves to the back of her neck, pulling her mouth to hover just near yours. You pay her soft gasp no mind as you mutter, “I did tell you,” against her lips. Before she has a chance to reply, you lean up and press your lips to hers, albeit a little too passionately for this early in the morning. Not that she minds, judging by the way she kisses you back with matching, feverish intensity. 

Leila pulls back, one hand gripping yours to remove it from her neck. Her free hand pries your other hand away from her hip, which still holds firmly. 

“A little early for you, no?” she asks rhetorically with a smirk before pinning your hands to the bed. 

She leans closer to you, not close enough to kiss but close enough that you can feel every breath she takes. She just stares down at you, and you swear her eyes darken the longer she looks. The unmistakable heat in her gaze almost makes you shiver. 

She leans in again, brushing her lips against yours for a split second before changing directions and pressing them to your neck. She places a few warm kisses up the juncture of your neck, eventually switching between sucking and gently biting. It’s your turn to gasp when she focuses all of her attention on the sensitive spot behind your ear. 

“Olvidé que eres sensible ahí mismo,” she pulls back to whisper alluringly in your ear before focusing her attention on the matching spot on the other side of your neck. It also takes you a minute to translate this sentence, but this time, it’s for an entirely different reason.

The feeling of her mouth, teasing and deliberate, paired with the growing heat between you, is enough to distract from the ringing of the alarm clock that Leila still hasn’t shut off—until it isn’t.

Leila pulls back again, quickly kissing your lips before climbing out of the bed. “Lo siento, cariño, that ringing is making me crazy,” she notes before continuing her earlier pursuit of turning off the alarm.

“Why?” you trail off with a dramatic groan, pulling the blanket to cover your eyes as Leila also opens the curtains while she’s up.  

“Sun is good for you.” Leila trails back over you and sits on the edge of the bed before attempting to pull the comforter down to reveal your face. You let her do so only to glare up at her. It’s short-lived though as you’re unable to stop the smile that takes over your face upon seeing her grin down at you. This inability to stay serious around her remains a constant struggle.

“We’re in the sun enough during practice.”

“No practice today, so we do this,” Leila gestures over to the window that has quickly become the bane of your existence. “Get up, por favor,” she says with a gentle shake of your shoulders.

“Why?” you question her for a second time.

“Because. Vamos, levantarse!” she answers vaguely, standing up from the bed and grabbing your hand to pull you up into a sitting position. She begins to walk toward the doorway while you remain seated on your bed.

“I’m not convinced,” you call after her.

“I will see you downstairs,” she calls back, flashing you a smile before exiting the room, completely aware that you’ll follow shortly after. 

After scrolling on your phone for several minutes, you finally rise up from the bed. You close the curtains that your girlfriend so rudely opened and begin to make your way to the kitchen where she likely resides, if the smell of roasting coffee beans is anything to go by.

Leila is standing near the coffee pot with a bewildered look on her face when you enter the kitchen. Her confusion quickly turns into a smile when she notices your presence. She picks up the full mug of coffee resting on the counter.

“Para ti, mi vida,” she says as she extends the mug toward you.

“English, remember,” you remind her, taking the coffee from her hands and kissing her on the cheek in return. “Thank you, baby.”

“You did not care about my Spanish earlier this morning.” Leila places her hands on your waist, pulling you into her slightly. You smile at her over the top of the mug as you bring it up to your mouth and take a sip. If you’re using the mug to shield the slight flush that has overtaken your face as a result of her words, that’s no one’s business but yours.

As the coffee hits your tastebuds, your face instantly contorts in disgust. Without thinking, you spit it back into the cup. Leila’s face drops at your actions, and she pulls away from you.

“Ugh, see! This is not working anymore,” Leila says, annoyance present in her voice as she looks at you. 

You can’t help the way your heart slightly drops at her words. “What’s not working?”

“This,” she repeats and gestures rapidly between the two of you. She offers no further explanation, but you note the seriousness on her face. You look down at the mug in your hands, hoping that somewhere in the coffee resides the answer to your question. But the liquid offers no answers. You glance back up at her.

“We’re not working anymore?” you press with your eyebrows raised. You’re sure your internal bafflement is being reflected by the look on your face.

“No. Obviously, we are not,” she says again. The way your heart drops only amplifies at her clarification. You place the mug down on the counter and step closer to her. She notices the confusion on your face and continues speaking before you can ask any follow-up questions.

“This,” she starts, walking over to where the coffee machine sits on the counter, “is not working. I cannot make coffee for you in this machine. It is too old.” She inspects the machine, similar to how you inspected your coffee just now. She’s likely looking for answers just as you did, though her question concerns the machine’s ability to work properly where yours regarded the state of your relationship.

“You’re talking about the coffee machine?” you ask, letting out a sigh of relief before she even confirms the miscommunication.

“Yes,” she answers, your earlier confusion now being reflected on her face as she notices your reaction to her words. “Está bien. If you want to keep it, we can. I will keep trying,” she says comfortingly, unaware of the internal turmoil you just experienced.

“No, you’re right, it’s old. We can get a new one,” you say, still reeling. You reach over for your mug before thinking better of it and placing it back on the counter.

“Why are you being weird?” she asks with a nervous laugh as she reaches around you to grab your mug from the counter. She turns toward the sink and dumps the coffee down the drain.

“I’m not,” you respond, moving around the counter to sit on the stool across from her. Leila remains standing in the kitchen, her disapproving hum barely audible over the quiet clink of her placing the mug in the dishwasher.

“You are,” Leila counters as she shuts the dishwasher and focuses all of her attention on you. When you don’t reply, she tilts her head slightly, raising one of her eyebrows.

“It’s fine. I’m fine, Lei,” you brush it off, hoping she won’t press you any further.

“Tell meee,” she draws out as she follows your earlier path, rounding the corner and coming up behind you. She wraps her arms around your waist and rests her head on your shoulder. “Tell me!” she demands again, giving your body a gentle shake. You’re nearly certain from her tone that she’s pouting at you.

“I-,” you start, but before you can get any more words out, Leila turns your stool around so you’re facing in her direction. “I thought you were trying to say that our relationship isn’t working,” you reveal quietly, looking away from her intense eye contact for a moment, slightly embarrassed at your misunderstanding. 

Her face falls. “Ah, no! Nunca, mi vida. It is perfect,” she reassures earnestly before pulling you into a tight hug, lifting her leg to rest her bent knee on the side of the stool you’re sitting on, leaning closer to you. You hug her back without a second thought (or, really, without a first conscious thought). She pulls back after a prolonged minute or so.

“Now you know how it feels,” she refers to your misinterpretation of her earlier words, Leila typically the one to misunderstand what you’re saying when you speak English with each other. 

“Is it this embarrassing for you every time?” She considers your question briefly, eventually deciding on a simple “No.”

“Whatever,” you mutter and gently push her away. The lack of effort in your action tells her that you don’t actually want her to move away from you. You share a smile as she indeed picks up on this and leans back in, resting her forehead on yours.

“This is why I work on my English. And you work on your English teaching skills,” she teases.

You let out a sound that’s a mix between a laugh and a gasp. “I try my best. My student is difficult sometimes.”

“Grosero. I am easy.” You hold back a smirk at the innuendo in her words, the double meaning completely lost on her. 

“Yes, you are,” you agree, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on her forehead in an attempt to hide the growing grin on your face.

“You are laughing?” You shake your head at her question and pull her into another hug, hoping it’ll distract her from the conversation.

It does.

⟡

“Leila!” you groan as she steals the ball right from under your feet. 

“I am too fast for you, amor, eh?” she teases as she runs past you, a smirk present on her face.

“Show-off,” you mutter upon closing the distance that she put between you. She gently kicks the ball back over to you, and you pass it back. The two of you fall into a steady back and forth as the ball bounces between your feet.

“I have an idea,” Leila eventually says, resting her foot on the ball you’ve just passed her way. “You run past me and score. I defend.”

“Easy,” you say confidently, gesturing in a silent ask for the ball back. 

“Vale, show me,” she says before kicking the ball back in your direction, gesturing for you to start running.

At her insistence, you start running down the field with the ball at your feet. You’ve barely run for ten seconds before she’s intercepting your path with a tackle that sends you to the ground. You groan again as she successfully ruins your plan for the second time.

She jumps to her feet, rushing over to where you’re sprawled out dramatically. “Estás bien?” she asks, and you can hear the concern in her voice. You nod as she offers you both of her hands, but before she can pull you up, you tug her down to the ground with you. You share a laugh as she lands beside you before she leans closer, her face hovering just above yours. She looks down at you with a smirk that you’re no stranger to. “That was me going easy on you, by the way.”

“You’re annoying,” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach up to brush a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Despite your words, her smirk softens into something warmer. “You love me still, sí?”

“Obviously,” you say lightly. She looks at you expectantly, and you know exactly what she’s waiting for. “I love you,” you borderline whisper. Disregarding the annoyance you were just feeling toward the Spanish woman, you attempt to pour all the love you can muster into your declaration. She deserves it. 

“Hmm, how much?”

“Too much for me to comprehend sometimes,” you admit. Sometimes you’re awed by how soft she makes you. Her gaze softens at your words, the affection in her eyes matching that which is present in yours whenever you so much as think about her.

“Te quiero tantito,” she murmurs as her fingertips brush up and down your arm. You’re not surprised in the slightest at the feeling of goosebumps that follows.

You tilt your head. “Tantito? What is that?”

“It means, ‘I love you a little bit.’” Her lips turn up into a half-smile. 

“A little bit?” you say with a raised eyebrow in disbelief. A flicker of amusement crosses her face before she lets out a soft laugh, her smile growing into a full grin.

“Mhm. It is like a joke, no? Because, obviously, I love you a lot,” she corrects. “Maybe we stop with my English and focus on your Spanish.”

You give her a smile in return and shake your head. 

“We can start lessons now. Say ‘golazo.’ The thing you did not score past me,” she clarifies with a laugh, this one more hearty than the one she graced your ears with moments ago. You’re unable to stop the laugh that she pulls from you.

“Golazo. You’ve taught me that word already,” you remind her.

“Oh, bien! That means ‘good.’” Before you can reiterate that your Spanish knowledge isn’t this limited, she continues with a grin. “Now you say, ‘Leila es el amor de mi vida.’”

Your cheeks warm as you’re again able to make out what she’s wanting you to say. You hold her gaze. “Leila es el amor de mi vida,” you say, sincerity present in your voice.

Her grin melts into something tender. “Good job,” she murmurs, the adoration in her voice impossible to miss. She leans down to kiss you, and you bask in it for a minute before she pulls back, lingering close enough for her breath to merge with yours. “It means-”

“I know what it means, baby,” you cut her off gently, your heart skipping a beat at the feeling of her so close.

“What about this one? ‘Tú también eres el amor de mi vida,’” she asks, adoration still present in both her voice and the way she’s gazing down at you.

“Thank god. Imagine how embarrassing it would’ve been for me if I wasn’t yours,” you reply, only half joking and once again not needing her translation. 

Her laugh rings out, and you can’t imagine being happy without hearing it every day for the rest of your life.

a/n: honestly this wasn’t supposed to be this long but I got carried away and kinda steered off course. anyway I don’t know a word of spanish and used google translate so please feel free to tell me if anything needs editing! thank you!!!

[kierantierney3]

Ruben Dias/ Break up?

The one with the break up

Summary: People start to assume you and Ruben have broken up as he gets seen with a blond girl.

Masterlist

Face claim: Emma Chamberlain

————-

yourusername

liked by rubendias, alexscott2 and 340,019 others

yourusername Beige

view all comment

user No because i’m obsessed with this look 😍

user The fit 🔥 the girl 🔥

user No because it looks like the dress was made for you.

yourusername

yourusername

liked by rubendias, jackgrealish and 419,928 others

yourusername She’s gone blond!!!!!!!!!

view all comment

user Queen

user I love the blond

rubendias Pretty 😍

user I love how dramatic this reveal was!!!

rubendias

liked by dejesusoffical, mancity and 249,018 others

rubendias Blond bombshell.

view all comments

user Such a beautiful couple!

jackgrealish Think you should do blond Ruben!

yourusername Caption credits to me :)

user I love you both

user Can’t believe people thought they broke up/ Ruben cheated, they are both in love with each other.

[dreamonseems]

hello, i want to request but i don't know if you write imagines where reader is pregnant or dad! erling. so please lmk🤍

Good Strong Viking Name

Erling Haaland X Female Reader

Summary: Reader and Erling have their first baby.

Ok, I love this. I love dad, Erling. I myself want to have like 6 kids, so I love family fics, so I had such a fun time writing this.

During the last trimester of her pregnancy, Y/N found herself eagerly awaiting the arrival of her little bundle of joy. She had reached a point where her body was thoroughly exhausted and constantly in pain, making every day a struggle. Her swollen feet and hands resembled balloons, causing her great discomfort.

To make matters worse, her once petite frame had expanded to a size that made her appear as if she were carrying twins - an idea that had been ruled out during her prenatal checkups.

Y/N couldn't help but wonder if the reason for her increased size was due to the baby's size, especially given that Erling, the father, was incredibly tall. Despite the discomfort and challenges she was facing, Y/N tried to stay positive and look forward to the day she would finally get to hold her little one in her arms.

Y/N was relishing in a relaxing bubble bath when she heard the front door open. She smiled to herself, knowing that her husband, Erling, had just arrived home from his training session. Suddenly, she saw him standing at the bathroom door, gazing at her in awe.

His eyes were filled with admiration for the little family they had created together, and he was brimming with excitement to meet their little one. Erling was proud of his beautiful wife for being so strong throughout the pregnancy, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to handle it if he was in her position.

When Y/N opened her eyes and saw Erling, she greeted him with a smile. "Hey, you're home," she said. Erling beamed in response, "I am. I just love watching you like this."

Y/N laughed and jokingly responded, "Let me give birth to this baby first before you put another one in me."

Erling approached the bathtub to help Y/N out, grabbing a towel to wrap around her.

"I definitely will put as many babies in you as you will let me. I want a whole football team," he teased, leaning down to give her a kiss.

He then lifted her up and walked them to their bedroom, where he gently laid her down on the bed and helped her dress.

After helping her dress up, "Can you go downstairs and grab my phone? It's in the kitchen," Y/N asked him.

"Of course, my love," Erling replied, eager to help.

As he made his way downstairs, Y/N felt something streaming down her legs. When she looked down, she noticed that her water had broken. Fear took over, and she began to panic, screaming for Erling to come quickly.

Erling raced up the stairs, his heart pounding with fear that something bad had happened. "My water broke," Y/N cried out, Erling himself started to panic, but he quickly stopped himself, knowing he needed to stay calm for both of them.

He quickly pulled out his phone, "I'll call the midwives."

"We are still a few weeks away from the due date," Y/N said, her voice shaking with fear.

Erling stopped and took her face in his hands, looking deep into her eyes. "Baby, calm down. Let's take a deep breath. I love you, and you're going to do great. You're strong, and you were born to do this. I'm here with you," he said, hoping to calm her down.

Y/N took a deep breath and felt her panic dissipate after hearing Erling's words. She knew that with his love and support, she could handle anything.

Y/N and Erling were excited and nervous for the home birth of their little one. They wanted to do things as naturally as possible and have all their loved ones there to support them in this vulnerable situation. They called their midwives and family members to join them in their living room, where the birthing pool was set up, and a safe and comfortable space was made for Y/N.

As Y/N's contractions became more intense and frequent, she got into the birthing pool and Erling held her close while the midwives encouraged her to push. She tried with all her might but exhaustion had taken over her, tears streaming down her face. "I can't do this," she cried out.

Erling held her tighter and kissed her forehead, "You can do this, my love. You're so close, just a few more pushes." His words gave her the strength to continue, and with a few more pushes, their baby was born. They heard the cries of their little one, and Y/N released the breath she had been holding. She had done it!

The midwife asked Erling if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord, and he eagerly did, tears streaming down his face as he held his son for the first time. They laid the baby on Y/N's chest, and the room erupted in cheers. "It's a boy! Congratulations!" exclaimed the midwives.

"He's so big, and he looks like you, Erling," Y/N said as she opened her eyes to look at their baby. Everyone in the room laughed, and Erling was overcome with emotion. This was undoubtedly the best day of his life.

One week after the birth of their son, Erling had a match for Manchester City, which they won. However, his mind was completely occupied with the thought of getting back home to his beloved wife, Y/N, and their adorable little bundle of joy.

After the game, he was interviewed by a reporter. The reporter asked him about the match, but before the interview was over, the reporter suddenly brought up the news of his son's birth.

Erling's face lit up with a smile, his heart overflowing with joy as he talked about Y/N and their newborn son. "Yes, she did an amazing job, and I'm so happy and excited to get back home to them," he said, his eyes shining with pride and love.

The reporter then asked the big question, "What did the great Erling Haaland name his son?"

Erling's smile grew even wider as he replied with enthusiasm, "Ragnar Alfie Haaland, a strong Viking name for our little warrior." The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and his eyes sparkled with love and admiration as he spoke of his son.

The reporter nodded, clearly impressed, and wrapped up the interview. Erling couldn't wait to get back home to Y/N and their little Ragnar, who he knew was already destined for greatness, just like his namesake.

[pavardscherie]

spending your anniversary with erling on summer vacation, exploring different beaches, and enjoying the warm water & weather together

[enwoso]

Hi! I have a request for Ella Toone. Could you do one where Ella talks about reader during one of the Tooney and Russo Show podcast?

OPPOSITE SIDES — ella toone

masterlist

"oh this is a good question for you ella! what is your favourite memory with y/n" vick smiled up from the ipad as a small smile flashed across ella's lips, it was cliche answer but there was too many to choose from.

today on the tooney and russo show it was an open episode where the girls were answering questions which fans had sent in, and this wasn't the first time you had been mentioned in this episode. the fans seemingly loving your relationship with the fellow manchester united midfielder.

"oo this is so hard, can i not just say all of them" ella groaned as alessia booed into the mic saying that was such a boring answer, as her and vick both pressured the brunette to answer the question.

"ok if i had to choose one" ella hummed trying to pin point just one memory. "probably when i managed to get her in a man united jersey"

"you didn't- how?" alessia gasped clearly never hearing this story. it being quite the intriguing one considering she had been on the end of the countless complaints from ella when she had tried to get you to wear her united jersey when you were going to watch her play when you didn’t have a match of your own to play but you always refused. as you you were a life long man city fan and even played your entire career of club football there.

ella cleared her throat as she began to tell the story.

the sun bleared through the blinds in the room which you shared with your girlfriend, a small groan leaving your lips as you opened your eyes. your head slightly throbbing from the one too many glasses of red wine you’d had last night.

not remembering what time you got home, but remembering ella picked you up as she basically forced the wine glass out your hand and replaced it with a glass of water hoping to sober you up a little — it didn’t.

by the time you got home you were drifting in and out of sleep as ella wiped your makeup off and helped you get changed knowing you’d thank her for it in the morning, maybe.

glancing down at the brunette hair which was sprawled out across your chest as small shallow breaths came from her lips.

beginning to move the girl gently as she started to stir, “don’t go” ella whispered, her eyes still glued shut as a small chuckle came from your lips as you slipped out of bed heading for the bathroom.

not bothering to look in the mirror not wanting to see the state which last night had left you in — but maybe if you had you would have seen the certain manchester shirt you were in.

using the bathroom before heavy footsteps were made going back towards the warmth of your bed and your girlfriend’s arms. seeing that ella had moved, facing the way of the door as a smug smile was across her sleepy face.

“wow you look so fit in that top-“ ella mumbled as you glanced down to see the red top, before having to take a double look when you realised what red shirt it was. a manchester united shirt.

a loud gasp left your lips as you scrambled to take it off leaving you in just your sport bra. you were a blue through and through. manchester city fan until the day you died. the one thing that you and ella never could agree on was what colour manchester actually was.

you played in the blues of manchester while she played in the reds of manchester. you both being childhood supporters of the clubs you played at.

“you-“ you pointed towards ella as she tried her best to play the innocent act, you knowing all too well it would have been her that would have put that shirt on you last night before you went to sleep.

“i haven’t done anythin’!” ella expressed her innocence as you flopped yourself back ontop of her a small grunt leaving her lips as you did so. ella trying her best to keep her giggles in as you towered over her, a fake angry look on your face.

“you took advantage of me when i was vulnerable, putting me in that top-“ you complained as a playful roll of the eyes came from your girlfriend as you reached down to peck her lips.

“you said it was a comfy top, not me” ella shrugged as you pouted at her, trying to pretend to be annoyed. as she placed another loving kiss to you lips as you pulled three covers back over the two of you, feeling the cold on the hairs of you back from taking ella’s united top off.

“i love you” you whispered against her lips, “even if you do support the wrong side of manchester-“

“oi!”

both alessia and vick had listened to the story, gasping and giggles coming from them as ella told the story. knowing the parts when ella was being that little bit more exaggerate and dramatic.

“i’m surprised you had a girlfriend after that-“ alessia joked as ella hummed as she took a sip of her water.

“oh no, she was fuming with me for the rest of the day” ella explained how she had to earn her girlfriend point back throughout the day by basically doing anything and everything to you.

“so i can imagine derby days being quite tense then?” vick questioned as ella hummed knowing how the days usually go.

“they don’t talk to each other the entire build up to it on the day” alessia said so calmly after experiencing quite the few derby days between the two of you from back when she was playing for united.

“no we don’t and then when the prem is on that’s even worse we have to watch the game in different rooms otherwise we just bicker” ella added as laughs filled the rooms as ella also laughed realising how silly it probably sounded but nobody loved their childhood clubs like you and ella did.

“but it’s all good after the ninety. she knows i love her very much. and i know she loves me too”