#marcus rashford fluff

[gul4bjamoons]

✩ a stubborn heart; 

                 marcus rashford ────── 

even as his body succumbs to illness, marcus’ pride refuses to let him rest, and it’s driving you to the brink of insanity.

⭑  wordcount : three thousand four hundred twenty-two.

⭑  notes : this felt fitting to post given the alleged reasonings behind his absence in the squad

˙⋆✮ masterlist.

Marcus Rashford wasn’t one to admit defeat easily—especially not to something as mundane as the flu. The moment he stepped through the door that evening, the winter’s icy fingers still clinging to him, you noticed the change. His usual confident stride was reduced to a slow shuffle, his shoulders hunched as though bearing an unseen weight. His vibrant, glowing complexion had faded to a ghostly pallor, and the light in his eyes was dimmed.

"Marcus?" you had asked softly, your voice filled with concern.

"I'm just tired." he replied, waving off your worry with a wan smile that failed to reach his eyes.

You had coaxed him into eating something—a simple meal that he picked at without enthusiasm. Every second that passed deepened your concern, each morsel he left untouched amplifying the unease in your chest. Something wasn’t right. You watched head upstairs, his steps heavy and reluctant, his usual energy drained.

Determined, you stayed back, rummaging through the cabinets for medicine, knowing full well that he would be resistant to taking it.

However, as you ascended the stairs with the pills in hand, you found him already asleep, his body curled under the blankets like a child seeking shelter from the world. His lashes rested softly against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted as he breathed evenly. He looked so peaceful, so incredibly endearing in his vulnerability, that your heart clenched with affection.

You approached quietly, not wanting to disturb the serenity of his sleep. The sight of him like this, his guard completely down, made you want to protect him from everything, even the fever that had sapped his strength. You set the medicine on the nightstand, slid under the covers beside him, and gently pulled him into your embrace. His body, warm and pliant, fit perfectly against yours, and you held him close, as if you could give him your strength through every the close contact.

Through the night, the wind howled outside, a mournful, relentless sound that rattled the windows, but you barely noticed. Your thoughts were consumed by the memory of Marcus’s weak smile, the uncharacteristic frailty that had taken over him. Sleep had barely begun to take hold when the sound of a soft whimper yanked you back into wakefulness. You turned on the bedside lamp, the soft glow revealing Marcus, his face etched with discomfort, beads of sweat dotting his forehead like morning dew on grass.

“Marcus?” you whispered, your voice a mixture of worry and tenderness. You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He flinched at your touch, his skin sizzling hot beneath your fingers.

His eyes fluttered open, heavy with exhaustion. “I’m fine, love,” he croaked, his voice rough, each word a struggle.

You shook your head, concern knitting your brow. “You are not fine.” you said firmly, brushing a damp curl from his forehead. “Look at you. You’re burning up.”

You reached for the medicine you had set aside earlier. “Here, take this,” you whispered, helping him sit up slightly to swallow the pills. He grimaced but complied, leaning back against the pillows as you eased him down again.

“No arguments,” you said softly, tucking the blankets around him once more. “You need to rest.”

He sighed, the sound heavy and resigned. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he murmured.

“Well, you’ve managed to do just that.” you replied with a pout, your voice softening with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

As you made your way down, the house was still, the only sound was the soft hum of the heater working to keep the cold at bay. In the kitchen, you moved with efficiency, pulling out a small saucepan to prepare a simple tomato soup. The rhythmic bubbling of the broth was a soothing counterpoint to your racing thoughts. You stirred slowly as the rich aroma filled the air.

Back in the bedroom, Marcus lay where you had left him, his breathing shallow but steady. The sight of him so vulnerable tugged at your heart. Setting the bowl down gently on the nightstand, you sat beside him, brushing a hand over his forehead again.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I made you some soup. Think you can manage a few sips?” You couldn’t help the note of worry that crept into your voice. “I know you barely ate anything earlier.”

His eyes opened, clouded with fatigue but laced with gratitude. “You didn’t have to,” he whispered, his voice still hoarse, each word a strain.

“You’re right, I didn’t have to, but look at you.” you replied with a teasing lilt, lifting a spoonful to his lips. “You’re as stubborn as a mule.”

He groaned softly, the sound both endearing and pitiful. “You’re mean.” he mumbled the childlike insult, but there was no bite to his words. His eyes fluttered closed as you brushed your thumb gently across his cheek.

“Just eat.” you urged, smiling despite yourself.

He opened his mouth, accepting the offering with a small nod. You fed him slowly, each spoonful a small victory, a reminder of the strength that still lingered beneath the surface.

As the night stretched on, you stayed by his side, your touch a constant reassurance. You replaced the cool cloth on his forehead regularly, whispering soft words of comfort into the quiet room. The fever seemed to tighten its grip on him, but you remained his anchor, your presence a soothing balm against the waves of discomfort that washed over him.

Marcus murmured softly, incoherent words that you recognized as little complaints about how awful he felt. He clung to you, seeking solace in your embrace, his body curling against yours in search of comfort.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, drawing soothing circles in to his skin as he eased into your touch. “I’ve got you.”

Eventually, his murmurs faded, his body finally relaxing as sleep claimed him once more. He usually always wanted to look after you, your rock in moments of vulnerability. But tonight, the roles showed you both how important balance was, and it felt so right to care for him, to be his strength when he needed it.

As you watched his peaceful face in the dim light, your own eyes grew heavy. Wrapped around each other, you both drifted off, the soft rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a deep, contented sleep.

-

The next morning, Marcus looked marginally better, but his attempt to act normal was painfully transparent. The first thing you noticed was the faint rustling of the sheets as he tried to move quietly, the sound subtle but enough to stir you from a light sleep. His movements were sluggish, deliberate, as if each motion required immense effort. He shuffled around the room, pausing intermittently to cough into his elbow, the rasping sound echoing faintly in the otherwise silent morning.

You kept your eyes closed, feigning sleep, but your mind was alert, tracking every labored breath, every pause that punctuated his weak attempts to go about his day as though nothing was wrong. His stubbornness was endearing, infuriating, and deeply worrying all at once.

“Morning, love,” Marcus said softly, his voice rough around the edges, straining to sound chipper. He leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. “Go back to sleep. You were up all night taking care of me.”

The corners of your lips twitched in a half-smile as you groaned softly, your arms reaching up to loop around his neck. The warmth of his skin against your fingertips was feverish. “Morning,” you murmured, nuzzling into him, half-asleep. “Stay in bed,” you commanded gently, your voice still thick with sleep. “No training, no meetings—just rest. You need to stay inside all day, or you’ll get worse.”

Marcus’s lips curved into a small, rueful smile, one that you missed as you drifted back to sleep. He knew he should listen, that his body craved the rest you were insisting on, but his mind rebelled against the thought of missing practice. The team needed him, or at least that’s what he convinced himself.

With practiced ease, Marcus waited for your breathing to even out, signaling that sleep had reclaimed you. Carefully, he pried your arms away from his neck, each movement slow and gentle to avoid waking you. His body protested with every step, sluggish and heavy, but he ignored the mounting fatigue and the dull throb of his headache.

The footballer moved toward the wardrobe with a deliberate sluggishness, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for his gear. Dressing was a herculean effort; each piece of clothing felt heavier than it should, as if his body was reminding him with every motion that it needed to rest. His limbs felt encased in lead, the fever making his usually agile movements cumbersome and slow.

As he fastened his jacket, Marcus took a moment to steady himself, leaning against the edge of the dresser. The room swayed slightly, a dizzy spell washing over him, but he shook it off with a determined breath. He couldn’t afford to give in. Not yet.

With a sigh, Marcus grabbed a pen and a small piece of paper, his hand unsteady as he wrote a quick note: ‘At practice, will be home soon. I love you.’ The letters wavered slightly, but the message was clear and heartfelt. He carried the note to the kitchen and placed it on the fridge, securing it with a magnet in a spot he knew you'd see first.

Before heading out, Marcus paused at the bottom of the stairs, glancing up toward the bedroom. The thought of you resting so peacefully tugged at his heart, filling him with both tenderness and a tinge of guilt for leaving knowing it would upset you.

He lingered for a moment, taking in the stillness of the house, before turning away quietly. As he slipped out the door, he knew the inevitable lecture awaited him when he returned—one filled with worry, love, and your unwavering need to protect him, even from himself.

-

Hours slipped by unnoticed, the quiet of the room thickening around you. It wasn’t until the faint chill of the sheets brushed your fingers that something felt off.

You sat up, the sheets tangled around you, your mind still heavy with the haze of sleep. Something was wrong. It took a moment to register, but then it hit you like a slap—his side of the bed was empty. Completely empty. You reached out instinctively, your hand hovered for a moment, as if the touch could pull him back, but the bed lay still, untouched by his weight.

What the hell?

Your heart started pounding, the panic rising in your chest. No way he went off to the pitch. He was dreadfully ill a couple hours ago—trembling, barely able to breathe, his body a wreck of shivers. There was no way he’d just gotten up and left.

You shot out of bed, your pulse quickening with each passing second. 

Please no, please no.

You called his name, a desperate plea hanging in the air, hoping you were wrong—hoping he hadn’t dragged himself to training. Maybe, just maybe, he was downstairs, sipping on some water, looking for more medicine. Anything but leaving. The thought of him pushing his body further when he could barely stand the night before, made your stomach twist.

You stormed out of the room, frustration boiling over. This man is going to be the death of me ran through your head. You wanted to scream, grab him, shake him, force him to stay still, to let himself heal.

But above all, all you wanted was for him to be okay.

Your gaze shifted toward the kitchen, and there it was—the note, stark against the fridge door. You moved toward it, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, but the words only made you groan in frustration. A mix of exasperation and worry curled in your stomach, the sharp contrast pulling you fully awake.

But Marcus was going to be home much sooner than you expected.

-

The minutes dragged on, each one heavier than the last, when suddenly the sharp ring of your phone sliced through the silence. Your heart skipped a beat as the screen flashed with the name of someone from Manchester United’s medical staff. A wave of dread crept up your spine as you swiped to answer, already bracing for what you feared might be coming.

"Hello?" you answered, forcing your voice to sound steady, though it trembled at the edges.

"Hello, it’s Dr. Harris." the doctor’s calm voice came through, but it did nothing to ease the growing tightness in your chest. "Unfortunately, Marcus showed up to practice looking worse for wear. He could barely manage any of the drills before we decided to pull him. His fever's so high, he’s having trouble staying upright."

Your heart dropped, the worry you’d been suppressing all morning suddenly rushing to the surface. "Can you come pick him up since you��re his emergency contact?" Dr. Harris asked, his tone now laced with urgency.

Before you could respond, you heard the faint shuffle of someone else on the line, and then a new voice—someone from the medical staff—spoke up. "We’ve got him in the recovery room. He’s stable, but he’s worse for wear. Just get here as soon as you can."

You felt the blood drain from your face, a cruel panic gripping you as the pieces fell together. "I’ll be there soon." you said, already moving, your hands shaking as you grabbed your keys. You were furious with Marcus for ignoring everything you’d told him, but that fury felt distant now, overshadowed by the immediate need to reach him, to make sure he was okay.

You rushed to slip on your shoes, the cold air stinging your cheeks as you hurried out the door. The car seemed to drive itself as you tore through the streets, your mind a whirlwind of dread. 

Arriving at the training ground, you rushed toward the medical wing, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and urgency. The sterile scent of antiseptic hit you as you entered, a stark contrast to the usual lively atmosphere of the place. The sight of Marcus slumped in a chair, his normally vibrant skin pale and waxy, sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over you.

He looked up as you approached, his eyes glassy but softening with relief when they met yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmured weakly, his voice barely more than a whisper, the edges frayed with fatigue.

You shook your head, crouching down beside him, your hands instinctively finding his face. He was warm, too warm, the fever still clinging to him. “Marcus…” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “Let’s get you home.”

The ride back started off quiet—mostly because he looked too embarrassed to talk. The footballer sat slumped in the passenger seat, his head resting against the window, the chill of the glass doing little to alleviate the heat radiating from his skin. The silence, however, didn’t last long. You couldn’t help but give him an earful, your concern translating into frustration.

"Do you have any idea how reckless that was?" You gripped the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles going white. "You could've spread whatever you’ve got to the whole team—and made someone else sick in the process."

"I didn't want to let the team down," he muttered, his voice thick with congestion, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

"Marcus!" you shot back, the frustration clear in your tone, "Your teammates will be just fine without you in a training session. What they need is for you to get healthy, not to push yourself and risk being out even longer."

He sighed heavily, the sound thick with exhaustion. He didn't argue, though. You glanced at him, irritation starting to fade as you took in how miserable he looked. His eyes struggled to stay open, fluttering weakly.

"You’re going straight to bed when we get home," you said firmly, not giving him room for debate.

He nodded, a small, exhausted tilt of his head, but it was clear even that simple gesture took all his energy.

-

Back home, Marcus was worse than ever. His legs wobbled beneath him as you guided him inside, each step a monumental effort. By the time you helped him settle onto the cushions of your shared room, he was leaning heavily against you, his body surrendering to the fever’s relentless grip.

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. The touch was tender, meant to soothe, but your words carried the weight of your concern.

He gave you a sheepish smile, one that barely lifted the corners of his lips. “Guess I am,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, each word labored.

You spent the rest of the day doting on him, a steady rhythm of care and devotion. The house was quiet, the only sounds were those of you moving around, fluffing pillows, and coaxing him to drink tea. Every time you pressed a cool cloth to his forehead, he sighed in relief, his eyes fluttering shut, momentarily free from the fever’s relentless assault.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you,” he mumbled at one point, his voice thick with gratitude, his words slurred with exhaustion.

“You’d probably be in worse shape.” you teased lightly, earning a quiet chuckle that rumbled from deep within his chest.

As evening rolled around, Marcus was still exhausted but slightly more alert. He shifted on the couch, his tired eyes following you as you moved around the living room, unable to tear his gaze away. Despite his weariness, you adored him, his love for you shining through the haze of his sickness.

“Come here,” he mumbled, holding out his hand toward you, a small, inviting smile gracing his lips. You sat beside him, and he immediately rested his head on your shoulder, his body relaxing against yours.

“Feeling better?” you asked toying with one of his curls.

“A little bit,” he admitted, though his pout told a different story, the downturn of his lips almost childlike in its sincerity. “But you haven’t kissed me all day.”

You laughed softly, the sound gentle and filled with affection. “Marcus, you’re sick.”

“So?” he grumbled, his pout deepening, his eyes glimmering with a mix of frustration and longing.

You sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple, the warmth of his skin brushing against your lips. “There. Happy?”

He groaned dramatically, a sound that was both adorable and pitiful. “That’s not a real kiss,” he complained, leaning in, his eyes locking onto yours with a soft plea. “Why can’t you kiss me on the lips?”

“Because, I’m not trying to catch whatever you’ve got,” you said, pulling away with a teasing smile, your laughter bubbling up despite the situation. “You’ll get all the kisses you want when you’re better.”

He huffed dramatically, the sound exasperated, his pout becoming more pronounced. “You’ve been close to me all day, so it shouldn’t matter,” he argued, though the energy behind his words was more of a soft plea than a genuine complaint.

You responded with a light smile, brushing your thumb across his cheek, your touch gentle and reassuring. “Nice try, but I’m still not risking it.”

Marcus pouted more, his expression a blend of charm and exasperation, the sight tugging at your heart even as you tried to remain firm. “Fine, kisses when I’m better,” he muttered, snuggling closer to you, his body fitting against yours as though he belonged there. “But I’m holding you to that.”

As the sun deepened, you remained by his side, your presence a constant source of comfort for him. His breathing evened out, the fever beginning to loosen its grip, and as the minutes ticked by, you felt him relax further, his body melting into yours as sleep claimed him once more.

The house was quiet, the soft hum of the heater filling the silence. You sat with Marcus in your arms, his head resting against your shoulder, his body warm and heavy with sleep. The weight of his trust and the depth of his love wrapped around you, anchoring you in the moment.

You watched over him, your heart swelling with a profound sense of peace. He was safe, and you were together—that was all that mattered.

© gul4bjamoons 

[httpsdana]

18 + 75 w/ marcus rashford🥹 ty in adv :)

Floating Near~Marcus Rashford

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

18-“Remind me again how I got stuck with you?” 75-“Good god, you’re in love with her!”

y/n and Marcus had been assigned to organize a party with their friend group, an event that had everyone buzzing with excitement. A group chat had been created weeks ago, but when it came down to who’d do what, it was chaos. Finally, after a hilarious back-and-forth, the tasks were split up: some friends were in charge of decorations, others on food, but somehow, y/n and Marcus ended up tasked with blowing up and setting up all the balloons.

As soon as the two of them started inflating the balloons, it was clear Marcus had no intention of doing it quietly. He’d blow up a balloon, then immediately bat it over to her, watching it bounce off her head before she could react.

“Marcus!” she exclaimed, laughing as she swatted it back. “Are you actually going to help, or just mess around?”

He leaned back, hands behind his head, flashing her that trademark grin. “Hey, messing around is helping. I’m keeping you entertained.”

y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. Every time she tried to focus on the balloons, Marcus would nudge her, tap her shoulder, or whisper her name just to make her look up so he could smirk and blow her a kiss.

After the fifth interruption, she gave him a playful glare. “Remind me again how I got stuck with you?”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking with that boyish charm. “Oh, I think we both know you love it.” He winked, making her laugh as she gently elbowed him in the ribs.

A few minutes passed with both of them actually getting some balloons set up, a few floating around the room, but every time y/n reached up to tie one, Marcus would lean closer, his voice soft. “Need any help there?” he’d murmur, his eyes lingering on her in a way that made her heart skip a beat.

“Only if you’re actually going to help this time,” she teased, but he just gave her a small smile, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear before he adjusted the balloon string for her.

Once all the balloons were set up, everyone headed off to get ready. y/n found herself upstairs, putting on her dress, fussing with her hair, and adding the final touches to her look. She took one last deep breath before heading downstairs, only to find all her friends milling around the living room in their best outfits. She stepped down the stairs, her eyes scanning the room for one specific person.

And that’s when she caught Marcus’s gaze.

He was standing with his friend Mason, who was talking to him about something, but Marcus was staring at her like he’d forgotten how to breathe. His eyes traveled over her, lingering on every detail, his gaze soft and admiring. He looked utterly spellbound, his usual playful self-replaced with something more vulnerable, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Mason noticed the look on Marcus’s face and nudged him. “Mate, are you okay?”

Marcus didn’t even respond, his gaze still fixed on her as she was pulled away by one of their friends. Mason, following his line of sight, raised an eyebrow. “Oh, mate. Do you like her?”

Marcus’s eyes stayed locked on her, a small smile curving on his lips. “Like her?” he murmured, shaking his head slightly, almost in disbelief. “Mate, I like her so much it’s not even funny.”

Mason’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across his face. “Good God, you’re in love with her!”

At that, Marcus finally pulled his eyes away from y/n and gave Mason a look of slight panic. “Do you think she knows?”

Mason chuckled, giving him a shove. “Go tell her, you idiot!”

Taking a deep breath, Marcus made his way through the crowd, catching her eye and nodding toward the balcony. She followed him outside, the cool night air making her shiver slightly, and he immediately shrugged off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders.

“Thanks,” she said softly, looking up at him with a smile.

He smiled back, his usual confident demeanor faltering just a little. “You look…amazing,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a soft, almost husky tone.

“Thank you, so do you” she said feeling the butterflies flutter in her stomach. His gaze was so intense, she almost forgot where she was.

He took a deep breath, his hands fidgeting slightly as he looked out over the city lights before turning back to her. “Listen, I… I didn’t plan on saying this tonight, but seeing you tonight, I just—I can’t hold it in anymore.”

y/n tilted her head, giving him an encouraging nod. “Go on.”

He ran a hand through his hair, smiling nervously. “I like you. A lot. More than I probably should. I think about you all the time, and every time you laugh, every time you look at me… it just makes me want to be around you even more.”

y/n couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face, her heart almost leaping out of her chest at his confession. “Well, you’ve been doing a good job of showing it by messing with me all the time.”

He laughed, looking down before meeting her eyes again, stepping closer. “Yeah, well, annoying you was the best way I knew how to get your attention.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” she whispered, closing the distance between them by clutching his shirt and pulling him down to her level. then pressing her lips softly against his. The kiss was slow and sweet, filled with the months of teasing, of unspoken feelings, finally coming to light.

When they finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, grinning. “So, remind me again… how did I get so lucky to be stuck with you?”

y/n laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Pretty sure I’m the lucky one here.”

“Guess we’re both pretty lucky,” he whispered, capturing her lips in another gentle, lingering kiss as the night settled around them.

[damiansgoodgirll]

one with rashy where reader is insecure about her small boobies and tries to cover her upper body when they get intimate but he actually loves them

really self indulgent coming from a small cherries gal like me 😂

i never had this problems with my 🍒 so i hope i made justice to what i wrote, hope you like it!!!!

marcus rashford x reader

tw : smut but not really, insecure reader, self conscious reader

cherries

“hey love i’m home!” you heard marcus calling you from downstairs.

you were standing in front of a mirror only in your bra and underwear but you quickly looked for any t-shirt to wear as you heard marcus approaching your bedroom and you wiped your tears away as fast as you could.

it was one of those days.

one of the days where you felt insecure about your body, about you. you compared yourself to models on instagram, to other football players wives and girlfriends and you kept asking yourself why you couldn’t look like them?

their perfect smiles, their perfect instagram feed, their perfect bodies. you were so jealous.

you’ve always had a love and hate relationship with your body. you liked the way you look but you couldn’t see anything special about you, no, you were just an average girl and sometimes you asked yourself why was marcus with someone like you when he could have models with perfect bodies.

you didn’t like the way your hair laid flat over your shoulders or the way you couldn’t properly do your make up but those were just superfluous things, but there one thing that you couldn’t change and that was something that always bothered you.

you hated your chest.

you grew up watching your friends growing bigger boobs while you got nothing. you thought it wasn’t fair but there was nothing you could do about it. so you let it go away, always thinking about something else even when your mind was stuck to that thought.

“hey baby…” marcus whispered when he saw you on the bed reading a book “i didn’t mean to disturb you baby” he said looking at you. you looked so into the book that he felt bad about disturbing you. in all honestly you couldn’t care less about the book, not when your mind was somewhere else.

“hi love, how was practice?” you asked him setting the book aside.

“good, but i missed you a lot” he engulfed you in a big hug that made you laugh “i really really missed you” his lips a few inches away from yours but you were the one who closed the distance and kissed him.

“i missed you too…”you whispered.

“i hope so” he kissed you again. and again. and again. only to lower his lips onto your neck and gently leaving soft bites and marks that made you squirm underneath his body.

“marcus…”

“does it feel good?” he asked you when his lips met your neck once again. you nodded and you let his hands wander under your t-shirt. he touched your hips and belly but something made you freeze when he touched your boobs.

your mind was in a bad place and his hands gently working on your nipples weren’t bringing you pleasure anymore.

he sensed that something was wrong “are you okay baby?” he looked straight into your eyes. they were glossy and you looked like you were about too cry.

“i’m sorry…” you apologised.

“no baby, don’t apologize…please, tell me what’s wrong? did i do something wrong?” he asked, concern evident on his face.

“no you didn’t do anything wrong…it’s me, i just - it’s stupid, forget it…”

“no it’s not stupid if it makes you cry, please tell me what it is baby…” he begged you.

“my boobs…i can’t, i don’t like the way they look, i - they’re not big or round as they should be and…” you said but your tears stopped you from talking.

“hey hey shhh…it’s okay baby” he comforted you kissing you over your head “can i show you something?” he asked and you nodded.

he then removed your t-shirt leaving you half naked, your small boobs on display and you tried to cover them with your hands but he stopped you.

“don’t cover baby…don’t cover yourself” he moved to kiss between the valley of your breast “you’re so beautiful…so fucking gorgeous” his tongue licked your left nipple “i love your body, i love the way it reacts when i do this…” he then touched your right nipple with his delicate fingers “you’re so beautiful, the most beautiful creature for me…i can’t believe how lucky i am to have someone like you in my life” he kissed your right nipple and gently sucked it.

that simple gesture made you moan.

“i love you so much…” he looked straight into your eyes again “it’s normal to have insecurities…i do have them too, but i want you to know that you’re perfect the way you are, you’re more than perfect love” he kissed your tears away.

“marcus…”

“i know baby, i know. i just wanted you to know how i feel” he kissed you once again.

you’ve never felt so much love in your life and it was kinda overwhelming. he let you cry in his arms, he comforted you all night and let you sleep over his chest.

he was mesmerised by your beauty and he couldn’t understand how you didn’t see that too.

[blueaetherr]

blue

pairing: marcus rashford x black!fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): none

summary: the one where marcus can be so open and emotional with the reader, especially under the moonlight

now watching: moonlight (film) by barry jenkins

"Runnin' around, catching up all that light. In the moonlight, black boys look blue. You blue, that's what I'm gon' call you. 'Blue'."

In the late evening, when the sun was beginning to fall into the sky and moods were dazed and dull, Marcus and Y/N settled themselves well at the beach. This wasn't anything new—it was their thing, their routine even, to stray towards the sand and sea when after hours arrived, choosing to pass the time in peaceful enjoyment and thrill every single time without fail.

They would take calm walks across the beach where loud conversations were created and shared, their volume range always drifting off course. They would play in the shallow waters of the ocean where the two would act anyhow seeing as they were experiencing wonderful contentment that was uniquely theirs to share as a two in those moments. They would take their place in the sand too, curling up in one another and encouraging comfortable silence as the moon began to find its place high in the sky.

With the kind breeze brushing against his face, Marcus let in a mild inhale before letting go as he openly took in the scent of the beach—one that felt like a breath of fresh air. He secured his arms around Y/N sitting in front of him and leaned in to kiss her head, earning a breathy laugh from her, before he set his eyes on the ocean before him and admired the natural movements of its water.

Sitting down in the sand with his dear Y/N—toes deep and relaxed in the sand, experiencing isolation with his lover, and being able to observe the beach and its nature—Marcus felt like this moment right here was a luxury to experience, something he would remain grateful for. It was something the couple got only once a week (twice if they were lucky) and lasted no more than four hours yet it still remained his favourite part of his usual routine.

You see, as a football player and a public figure Marcus had a lot of responsibilities and roles to attend to: the direct ones like training and playing matches every week and representing his club and country; but also the indirect ones like being a role model for the youth (from a local level to a national one), and carrying himself in a way that he couldn't be perceived in a negative light.

That's how it was for Marcus. And while he would never give up any of them for the world, they all came with their share of restrictions. This, naturally, restrained his innate inflexions and speech, his behaviour in the pitch and in person, and his presentation. Those responsibilities and roles, unfortunately, weren't selective—he had to attend to them which made them expectations, no way around them.

But even as expectations they were only temporary, specifically reserved for the daytime. 'Cause after that match was over, after he was dismissed from training, after he was finished doing press, Marcus would always take that as his cue to run off with Y/N and head straight to the beach nearing the hours of the night. The beach—the place where they could wander the infinite sand trails, swim alongside other creatures in the sea and do any activity that came to mind.

In that right there, there was calmness.

Embracing the natural body of the beach, witnessing the waves wrestle and roll around and over one another, Marcus and Y/N being alone together with the beach, knowing that all their responsibilities were put on pause and no one was going to stop the two from enjoying themselves, knowing that Marcus could drop his model persona for this moment alone and speak how he wanted, express himself to his partner and dress (and undress) without the fear of judgement trying to correct him—in that, there was calmness and security and belonging.

And Y/N loved how the beach was such an outlet for Marcus, understanding it was a way for him to peacefully unravel so so they could spend a peaceful moment together. For the scenery they were in, Y/N liked to call Marcus Blue, my Blue; simply put, blue radiated off of Marcus perfectly under the moonlight and dark sky, his person always shining bluer than any other person or object present.

But for his emotional intelligence Y/N, too, called Marcus Blue. In the moonlight, during the cover of the night, when the light fell directly on him, it was a shelter where Marcus could illuminate in the dark and place some focus on his true inflexion, behaviour and persona. He could be vulnerable and expressive as he pleased—with the night sky, with the body of the beach—and he was given the liberty to be and shine, in tranquillity and security, in the arms of Y/N.

[corriganatheart]

His Maddest Desire (He LOVES her, but she HATES him) Jude Bellingham x reader

Synopsis: She was the opposite of what he needed; the shadow that no one noticed but him. Since the beginning, Jude had always liked Y/N, and his feelings grew every time he saw her. His reputation as a womanizer only makes her question his intention and pushes him away, but that never stops him from chasing after what he wants.

Pairings: Jude Bellingham x reader

Genre: Forbidden romance x Enemies to Lovers x One-sided love x Dark Romance

Warnings ⚠️: Cursing, mention of sexual content 🔞

You weren't sure if you should be depressed about the situation or be relieved. Your family has totally forgotten that you existed and moved on with the welcoming speech without you. On any occasion, you would've been ok with it, but today your distant family was here, and you wore a beautiful dress that complimented your beauty in every way, but instead of flaunting it in front of everyone, you are hiding behind a concrete pole, away from the crowd.

"The L/N family will like to welcome you to our 100th anniversary in business!" You heard your dad exclaim and could see his hand raise his cup, but you were too far to see his face. You look at the number of people in the room; they've doubled since last year, and most are influential people worldwide. From current presidents to famous celebrities, you name it all, your family is connected to everyone. Your heart rate increases as you glance from one person to another, realizing he might be here too. "And my precious gem, my daughter Anastasia will take over the family's business and become the heir of the L/N family!"

Your heart immediately stops for a second, and your vision begins to blur as people clap and cheer for your sister. From the distance, in the spotlight, you see your sister, in the most beautiful dress and most beautiful face standing on the stairs waving and smiling at everyone. She looked confident, ambitious, and strong, something you weren't and would never be. Deciding that it was best to remove yourself from the gathering, you start running to the far end of the mansion, away from everyone.

The cold weather immediately hits your face when you enter the balcony. The city light shines from afar, away from your family's mansion on the mountain. Everything about your city was beautiful, filled with lights you'll never see in person. And even if you did, you’ll still feel ashamed, saddened, and distressed that tinted people ran the city—a family that doesn’t care about anything but power and money.

You look up at the stars and examine their beautiful design. They were all gorgeous, showing their beauty on the blank black canvas, and each star formed its meaning. One particular one formed a shape like a woman with Angel wings. She was floating with a knife-like structure in her hands. She looked powerful among the other stars.

“Her name’s Nemesis,” a familiar voice with a deep English accent says. You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is. His voice and the smell of expensive fresh cologne were enough to confirm that he was one of the most influential football players in the world. “She is the goddess of revenge and quite literally an underrating woman.” Your heart beats faster as you feel him getting closer to you, and you want nothing more than to leave without having to look at him.

Jude Bellingham is known for his looks, accent, personality, athletic abilities, influential status, and womanizer. He was everything you needed to avoid, but he always seemed to find you no matter where you were. “Myths say she is more beautiful and stronger than Athena and Aphrodite, and I can assure you she’s everything they say she is.” Your heart skips a beat, maybe many more, as he stands next to you. "Why are you alone, angel?"

Since birth, you have always been in your sibling's shadow. Your sister Anastasia was the golden child of the family. She had the looks, brain, personality, and quite the influence on others. Everyone loves her, and she was your parent's whole heart. Your brother, two years older than you, is the middle child and your mother's son. He was a mommy's boy, and even though he was now an adult, your mother would do anything for him. Your father, on the other hand, was too occupied with Anastasia and the family business to care if he had a son or not. The L/N family was complete with a daughter and a son, but you came into this world unexpectedly. Your biological parents passed away the day you were born, and your birth mother was the best friend of your adoptive mother. And even though she didn't want you, she wanted to be a hero, so your parents went along with the adoption, and you were taken in unwanted.

Growing up, you had quite a fancy life. Money, food, maids, fancy parties, and private schools, but you were never provided the same treatment as your siblings. You understand that you aren’t their biological child, but you’ve been in their family for so long that it seems that way.

Your father, who was always busy, would only talk to you when needed, such as school work and attending events, and your mother would only speak to you when it concern your physical image or family photos. Overall, besides being ignored by your family, you lived a comfortable life and were used to the cold silence from your parents, but it still hurts.

"Y/N?" He asked softly after realizing that your mind was no longer with him. "Why are you alone, angel?"

You close your eyes at the nickname that he gave you years ago. It does many things to you, and no matter how much you try to tell him to leave you alone, Jude Bellingham is always around. “Go back to the party Jude. My brother will be looking for you.”

He remains calm, and from the corner of your eyes, you can see him twirl the glass of whiskey while looking ahead. “Rowan is fine. He’s got blondes, brunettes, red hair, and black hair surrounding him,” Jude says with amusement. You rolled your eyes and placed your hand on the concrete rail, feeling the coldness of it. “My brother’s player ways will never die down,” you mumbled disgustingly.

Your brother, Rowan L/N, is a womanizer, and he doesn’t necessarily have a type. As long as you were a girl and were down for a one-night stand, he would take you to a hotel within a heartbeat. He wasn’t picky with Women either and found all types of women beautiful: curvy, skinny, average, tan, pale, dark; he liked them all. And although he may not seem like it, he respects a woman a lot, and that’s why he’s a mommy’s boy. You and your brother get along just fine, and in high school, he protected you from bullies, but now that he is a university student, you have distanced yourself a little. He wasn’t the older brother you knew from high school; your brother has become colder, bolder, and more like your father.

“You haven’t answered my question. Why are you out here alone?”

The concern in Jude’s voice causes you to look at him angrily. You didn’t need his concern, and you didn’t need his pity; you’ve had enough of those. “What game are you playing, Bellingham?” You asked. Jude raises an eyebrow and places his cup on the rail. You watch one hand disappear into his pocket while the other reaches for your hair, tugging it behind your ears. “Now I see you,” he mumbles and smiles softly.

You look at his lips and then his eyes; gosh, he was beautiful, with a sculpted jawline, thick lips, and a smile that could make a girl get on her knees. But you couldn’t be one of those girls; you were not his type. You have seen the girls he surrounds himself with, and you weren’t them, and he was playing games with you.

“Go find Rowan. He wouldn’t like his best friend with his little sister,” you said as you started stepping away from him. Jude doesn’t budge; he oversees you, examining your moves like always. “He wouldn’t think any of it,” Jude says. You bite your lower lips, “because we just don’t fit,” you immediately spit.

Jude’s eyes go dark as he focuses on yours, and you see how his jaw tenses. You’ve said many things in the past that hurt him, and you knew it’s one of these that gets him railed up. “Why do you hate me?” He asked casually, mainly because he had asked this question many times. And you wish you could answer him, but you don't know either.

You first met Jude when you were 12, and he was 14. Your brother befriended him while they attended an all-boys junior high, and he was one of those friends that would always come over. You remember the first time the two of you made eye contact. It was an immediate attraction on both ends and like the curious cat you were, you stayed and watched him play football with your brother.

Since the beginning, you always attend an all-girls school, and the only boys you've been around are your brother, cousins, and your dad's men. Seeing Jude for the first time, you were immediately drawn to him mainly because he was the most beautiful boy you have ever seen and because of the way he handled the soccer ball. Jude must've also noticed you because he showed off more and was constantly making sure you saw his dribble, scores, tricks, and everything he did; he did it with a purpose. After that day, Jude came over more often, and you always watched him play with your brother. And when you finally reached high school, he became bolder and started flirting with you, asking you to homecoming, inviting you to his games, and doing everything with you in his mind. But never once did you fall for him because, in the back of your mind, you were incapable of being loved, and Jude was only going to break your heart. Unlike you, he was everything everyone wanted, the golden boy, and he was still one.

"Why are you so mean?" he asked, stepping closer to you.

You back up, and he looks down at your shoes, unpleased by that movement. “Don’t step away from me,” he demanded softly as you stood four feet away. “Why?” You asked, even though you knew his answer. Jude grabs your wrist and pulls you into his chest, “because I am your man,” he whispers in your ear.

Your heart races rapidly as you feel his hand trace the back of your dress. He was so close to you that his cologne almost caused you to faint. Jude was much taller than you, and your head barely reached his shoulders, and it was so easy for you to hear his heartbeats. And just like you, he was also under the influence, and his breathing was getting harder and harder as his hands trailed up further.

“I am yours, and you’re mine. We fit Y/N,” he says and places his forehead on yours. You close your eyes and imagine the two of you alone, entirely away from everyone. Your life would’ve been more straightforward if you were born into an average family and met Jude accidentally. But you weren’t normal, and you were born into a loveless family that controls your every move. And Jude was a professional footballer that everyone loved. You knew Jude was destined for greatness the moment you looked at him, and unlike you, he was meant to be loved by the world. In the future, he will marry someone important, friendly, beautiful, and loved by everyone, like your sister. And you will be left behind closed doors as his mistress and never be seen again. The two of you just don’t fit.

“What do you want from me, Bellingham?” You asked while exiting his arms and stepping a couple of steps away. “Do you think I will fall for your tricks? Do you think I’ll say yes, and we'll marry in the future while you take one girl after another like your football buddies?” You aggressively asked. Jude glares at you frustratedly as you continue to speak your mind. “Look at me and look at all those girls. We are opposite!”

The two of you stare at one another for god knows how long. The conversation was familiar, and it was giving you deja vu. Jude was very persistent; no matter how many rejections he got from you, he was still chasing. But that never stopped him from fooling around with other girls to show you what you missed. But the two of you knew damn well he would drop anyone in a heartbeat if you came to him.

“I’m not like that,” Jude says softly, his hands hidden in his pocket to keep himself from reaching for you. “You know I want only you.”

It was hard to concentrate on hating him when he said the sweetest, most beautiful things in life. You knew who he was, and the womanizer image was only to make you jealous. But if you admit that you hated the blondes, brunettes, redheads, ginger, and many more girls that he had been associated with, it would only confirm your feelings, and you weren’t going down that path.

“Why?” You quietly asked while looking at the floor, avoiding eye contact with him. “Why are you so nice to me?”

You feel his fingers lift your chin, and in a second, you make eye contact with him. “Is it that hard to see yourself the way I see you?”

No one would’ve ever thought that Jude Bellingham could ever get rejected by a girl. There have been numerous times when he respectfully refused girls, and there have been times when he would use them for pleasure. But it was now getting to him that no matter how many girls he got; his heart still yearns for you and it will only be you that he wants.

"You will eventually marry someone else," you mumbled. "Someone older, wiser, prettier, and at the same level as you."

With a heavy heart, Jude reaches to stroke your face, but you slap his hands away. "Stay away from me, Bellingham.”

You wander back to the hall room, and from the corner of your eyes, you see your brother standing near the champagne fountain, surrounded by numerous girls. On one side, he has another friend of his, Trent Alexander Arnold, and on another side, he has Kylian Mbappe. They all smiled while chatting and flirting with the girls. You take in the way Trent constantly looks bored, and his eyes wander around the crowd, whereas Kylian is very invested in the ladies. To their right, a couple of tables away, your sister was talking to some women around your mother’s age, one of them being Jude’s mother.

It was no secret that your mother and Jude’s mother always wanted to be in-laws. And you were never an option, but your sister was perfection and the apple of everyone’s eye. Jude’s mother had always liked your sister, and the engagement between your sister and Jude would be brought up soon. That is another reason why it was best you stay away from him.

“The party is a bit dense, don’t you think?”

Your shoulder jumps from the voice, and you immediately turn around to see Marcus Rashford standing behind you, with a drink in his hand and the other hand tucked in his pant. He was wearing a white dress shirt with some buttons down, revealing some ink on his chest. His hair was freshly cut, making him look more handsome than you remember.

Marcus was an acquaintance of your dad and one of your sister’s friends. He was always rumored to be dating your sister, but you don’t think there's any potential because despite your sister showing interest in him, Marcus rarely acknowledges her.

“You don’t speak much do you little one?”

You frowned at his nickname for you because you guys aren’t anything at all for him to give you nicknames. This was probably the first time the two of you have ever spoken.

“Why are you talking to me?” You asked quietly despite the room being loud. Marcus smirks and sips his drink, “why haven’t I talked to you is the real question,” he mumbles. You frown and was about to walk away when he grabs your elbow. “Care to dance?” He asked. You look behind your shoulders to see your sister staring your way, eyeing the part where you and Marcus are touching. “Your girlfriend won’t like that,” you said, and Marcus glanced at your sister. “She’s not my girlfriend.” And that should’ve been enough for you to take him up on his offer, but you instead think about your sister’s wellbeing and decide it was best to decline. “I’m sorry but I have to go,” you said and quickly excused yourself.

As you quickly exit the ballroom again, you feel a couple of eyes on you, sending shivers down your spine.

“Jude!” Rowan exclaimed when he walked into the private room made for his casual hookups.

Jude nods and looks around the room, seeing a couple of his friends and acquaintances surrounded by girls, many girls. Your brother has two blondes next to him, with white lingerie on. On the couch in front of him, Mbappé was getting sucked off by two girls while the others were close to having sex. At the center of the room stood two naked girls dancing on the pole with red eyes.

Your brother nods his head towards the couch next to him; a girl that looks similar to your sister is sitting on it, and there is no question that she was brought in for him.

“Enjoy yourself, man,” Rowan says with a smirk. Jude grabs a bottle of champagne on a table and approaches the girl. She was beautiful, with a banging body, a girl he would usually hook up with but never chase. It was honestly torturing to want someone that doesn’t want you back, and the only way to get rid of that feeling was to drink, snort, and fuck. But even that didn’t help.

“Heard my mother and your mother talking. I know they want you all together, but it ain’t happening, man,” Rowan says, “my sister wants Rashford.” Jude chugs his bottle of Champagne, not giving a damn about who your sister wants. The only thing on his mind was to get you out of his system. “You have anyone else in mind?” Rowan asked. Jude smirks and lays both of his hands on top of the couch. The girl next to him was very bold and seductive. Her hands were already roaming his body and unbuckling his belt. “Anastasia is not my type,” Jude shrugs. Your brother raises an eyebrow, clearly not understanding why Jude would say that. He has seen the way Jude interacts with your sister and the way he is constantly being nice to her, so he assumes that Jude has a crush on her. “Then what is your type?” Rowan asked.

Jude lays his head back on the couch and guides the girl’s head down into his unbuckled pant. He then closes his eyes and sighs. “I prefer sexy (eye color) with (hair color) that is always perfectly straightened or perfectly curled. She also wears innocent-looking dresses and looks like an Angel but is a sexy beast that I can never let go.”

Your brother stared at him blankly and looked down at the girl that was now sucking off Jude. She looked like your sister but was the total opposite of what Jude described. Rowan then narrows his eyes, “Careful, Bellingham. I might have thought you were actually describing Y/N.”

Jude chuckles darkly and rolls his shoulders, “We fantasize about things we can’t have; that’s in our nature.” He then closes his eyes, and the image of you appears as he guides the girl’s head to his climax.

You stare at your reflection. Fresh out of the shower, wet hair, smooth lotioned skin, and no scars anywhere.

It was ideal for the women in the L/N family to look their best no matter what, and maybe your mother took that way too far. Growing up, you and your sister were constantly showered with lavish clothing, the best skin care product, the most expensive makeup artist, and the wealthiest designers. Of course, your sister had everyone's best interest, but still, your mother did not forget that she has an adopted daughter with her genes.

"Your sister's birthday is coming up," your handmaiden, Virginia, says as she combs your hair. You smiled and nodded, "she'll want to throw a big one," you mumbled. Virginia hums, agreeing with that statement. She was a couple of years older than your sister and has known you her entire life. She was only a teenager when her parents started working for your family. And when she turned 18, she immediately became your maid. "You know everyone will be there with a date," Virginia says while applying scented oil to your hair. You look at her through the mirror knowingly. She was the only person who knew of your complicated relationship with Jude. “Everyone but me,” you smiled. Virginia chuckled and started braiding your hair so it could be curly tomorrow. “I’m sure there are many single gentlemen that would love to accompany you,” she says. “For example, Marcus Rashford seemed to be interested in you. Or maybe Trent Alexander Arnold, who has always stared at you, and don’t forget Kylian Mbappe, who may be a little older but is a fine gentleman.”

You wait for Virginia to laugh and say it was a joke, but unfortunately, she doesn’t. “They’re all friends of my brother and sister. There is no way they would accompany me,” you said. Virginia smiles and starts tying your hair. “There is always that one person who would take you in a heartbeat.” You glare at her through the mirror, knowing who she is suggesting. She has always supported your feelings for Jude, even if it’s just a simple crush or something more significant. But you’ve told her several times that the two of you just don’t fit. Jude was different from you, and he was also your brother’s best friend. Someone of that high status would eventually get a proposal from the president’s daughter or a princess; you were never in the picture.

“I will say, though, that Marcus Rashford has always been a gentleman to everyone. He may be a bit older than you, but he would care for you perfectly,” Virginia says before she excuses herself from your room.

You sighed and opened the door to your balcony. It was warm with a slight breeze, and the star shone brightly through the dark sky. The oil scent of roses warms your heart, remembering her suggestion about Jude. But even you knew that was a mistake. Your sister will eventually be Jude’s fiancé and you’ll be nothing but his sister-in-law. It was best you have no interaction with him in the future.

“It’s too late for you to be outside Y/N.”

You froze at the deep voice and turned to see your brother closing your bedroom door. He looked like he had just left the shower, with damp hair, a towel around his neck, a black t-shirt, and black pajama pants. He looked exhausted, angry, and annoyed as he walked towards you. “You got school tomorrow; I’ll take you.” You frowned and looked at him, “Mr. Hale can take me,” you said. Rowan crosses his arms, and you notice his muscles are bigger and leaner. His athletic life must be intense. “My university is that way. I’ll drop you off.” You rolled your eyes and leaned against the cold rail. “You’re just making sure I am not skipping school with some boys,” you accused. Rowan raises an eyebrow and stares at you tensely, “If I see or hear about you fooling around with some boys, I will make sure he doesn’t see another day.”

“Rowan,” you sighed, “the school is owned by our family. Do you really think Father and Mother don’t have eyes on me?”

Your brother shrugged and sighed, “I’m just looking out for you.” You nodded and smiled, “I know.”

Rowan smiles slightly, and you notice an eyelash sticking on his cheek. Stepping closer to him, you brush off the hair with your thumb. “There, your skin looks good now.” He stares at you blankly, and you take this chance to look at him. He was all grown now, with a sculpted jaw, thick black hair, dark hazel eyes, and not like the innocent-looking brother you remembered. “Y/N I-“

“Rowan get out of your sister’s room!”

The both of you turned to the door to see your mother standing there with arms crossed, angry eyes, and nothing but her gown on. “She has school tomorrow. Do you know how bad it would look if she were late?” You glance at Rowan and quickly walk back inside and rush to your bed. “My bad, mom. I reminded my little sister that I’ll take her to school tomorrow.” Your mom rolls her eyes, and Rowan chuckles before kissing her on the cheek and waving bye to you.

You smile at your mom awkwardly as she stares at you. Her eyes wander your room, and she looks at your ideally hung school uniform, your finished homework on your desk, and your braided hair for school tomorrow. She smiles satisfactorily and nods at you. “Go to sleep. Tomorrow is your exam. I’m expecting a perfect score. You will be a future doctor and will show the world that your parents raised you wisely,” she says, hinting that you should be listening to her because she adopted you. “Yes, Mom,” you said through gritted teeth. Your mother smiles before saying goodnight and exiting your room.

Sighing, you closed your eyes, hoping that tomorrow would go smoothly and you wouldn’t do anything to disappoint anyone.

Comment if you want to be tagged.

[hy6erion]

i love ur fics soo a rashford one would be lovely if u have the time :)

(maybe something angsty but with a sweet ending?)

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤 (𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫) - 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒖𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

⇢ 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭��𝐨𝐧, 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 (⁀ᗢ⁀) 𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲

𝟏.𝟖𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

It had always been like this.

Dark rooms. Low whispers. The sharp sting of almost but never enough.

You loved Marcus. Loved him in the way that felt bigger than you, bigger than anything you could control. The kind of love that made you stay, even when it hurt.

And God, did it hurt.

It hurt when he walked red carpets alone. When he gave careful, practiced smiles to interviewers who asked if he was seeing anyone, and he answered with something vague—something that kept the world from knowing you even existed.

It hurt when he scored, when the stadium roared his name, and he celebrated with teammates, with cameras, with everyone but you.

It hurt every time you sat alone, watching him live a life you weren’t fully allowed to be a part of.

Just wait a little longer, he’d say.

One day, he’d promise.

I love you, he’d whisper into your skin at night, when it was just the two of you, when it was safe.

And you believed him. Because you wanted to. Because you had to.

Because if you didn’t, then what was all this pain for?

But one day never came.

And so, one day—you left.

Not with a fight. Not with a dramatic goodbye. Just a quiet, whispered truth.

“I can’t do this anymore, Marcus.”

The words landed like a death sentence, a final, irreversible thing.

He blinked. Just stood there, staring at you like he hadn’t heard you right.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice unsteady.

You exhaled, aching. “I do.”

His breath hitched, his hands curling into fists at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know how. Like he had already lost the right.

But still—he tried. “Wait, just—just talk to me—”

You shook your head. “I have talked to you, Marcus. Over and over again.” Your voice broke, and you swallowed hard, pressing a hand to your temple like you could physically hold yourself together. “I have waited, I have stayed, I have loved you in every way I know how, but I can’t—” Your breath hitched. “I can’t keep doing this if you’re never going to choose me.”

His face twisted, raw and desperate. “I do choose you—”

“No, you don’t.” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “You love me, Marcus, but you don’t choose me. And I can’t keep being the only one fighting for this.”

Silence. Thick, suffocating silence.

Then, barely a whisper—“Please don’t go.”

You felt something inside you shatter.

You wanted to stay. God, you wanted to. But love was supposed to feel like more than this. It was supposed to feel like something you could hold onto, something you could belong to.

And Marcus had never let you belong to him in the way that mattered.

So you stepped back. And then you walked away.

You didn’t look back.

If you had, you weren’t sure you would have survived it.

—

Marcus had never known silence could be so loud.

Your absence was deafening.

You were gone, and everything felt wrong. His bed, his apartment, his life—it all felt empty.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew why you left.

He knew that every time he asked you to wait, he was breaking you a little more. That every time he let the world think he was alone, he was making you feel alone.

But he had convinced himself that keeping you a secret was protecting you. That he was keeping you safe from the headlines, from the scrutiny, from the ugliness that came with his world.

What he hadn’t realized—what he realized far too late—was that he had been keeping himself safe.

And he had lost you because of it.

—

The first time he saw you again, it knocked the air from his lungs.

A party. A mutual friend.

He had almost not gone. He had been a mess for weeks—his performances weren’t bad, but they weren’t him. The fire, the passion—none of it was there.

Because you weren’t there.

But something had told him to go. Some last-ditch attempt to claw his way back to you.

And then— You.

Standing at the bar, fingers wrapped around a glass you weren’t really drinking from. You looked… different.

Tired.

Not in the way you did after long nights tangled in sheets and whispered laughter.

No. This was because of him.

The thought made him feel sick. Still, he walked to you.

And when you turned, when your eyes locked onto his—he knew.

Knew that despite everything, despite all the hurt, all the waiting, all the breaking—he still loved you.

More than football. More than fame. More than anything.

“Hi,” he said, voice rough.

You stared at him for a moment. Then—

“Hey.”

Silence.

“You look good,” he said, and God, he hated how inadequate it sounded.

You huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “I’m surviving.”

His chest ached. “That’s not what I want.”

Your grip tightened on your glass. “Yeah, well. Neither do I.”

Marcus exhaled sharply. “I fucked up.”

You laughed, but it was sharp, bitter. “Yeah. You did.”

He ran a hand down his face. “I was scared.”

Your jaw clenched. “You were scared?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “Do you know what it was like for me, Marcus? To love you in secret? To sit alone after your matches, after your wins, because I wasn’t allowed to be there?”

His stomach twisted, because—yes. He did know. He had made it that way.

“I thought I was protecting you,” he admitted. His voice was quiet now, almost pleading. “I thought—I thought keeping us private would keep you safe.”

Your breath hitched, but you shook your head, eyes glistening. “You weren’t keeping me safe, Marcus. You were keeping yourself safe.”

Silence.

And then—soft, broken—“Do you still love me?”

Your breath stuttered.

And he saw it. The hesitation. The moment you almost said no.

But then—“I never stopped.”

Something inside him snapped.

“Come to my match on Sunday.”

You blinked. “What?”

His jaw was set. “I want you there. No hiding. No sneaking around. No more secrets.”

Your lips parted slightly. “Marcus…”

“If you don’t want this, I’ll walk away. But if you do—if you still love me—come.”

He held his breath. And then—

You walked away. Again.

But this time, he let you. Because now, it was your choice. And all he could do was wait.

———

The stadium was a roaring, chaotic sea of red and white, but to Marcus, it may as well have been silent. The match was happening around him, the ball moving, teammates shouting, the crowd vibrating with noise—but none of it mattered.

Because he didn’t know if you were here. If you had come.

If you had forgiven him enough to step into the light after all the years he had made you live in the dark. His pulse was a hammer in his chest, his every movement tight with restraint. He had one half—maybe—to score. To do something.

To look for you. To find you.

And if you weren’t there— He wasn’t sure what he would do.

—

You had told yourself you wouldn’t come.

That you couldn’t put yourself through this again, through him again.

But then Sunday arrived, and you woke up with your heart in your throat, your limbs heavy, your stomach aching with something sharp and restless.

And the next thing you knew, you were here.

Sitting in the stands, coat wrapped tight around you, hands locked together in your lap like they were the only thing keeping you from unraveling completely.

The noise was deafening. The stadium, massive.

And yet, you felt so, so small.

It wasn’t just about the cameras. The attention. The knowledge that, if you let yourself be seen, there would be no undoing it.

No— It was the fear.

The fear that you would sit here, your heart laid bare, and Marcus wouldn’t look for you. That after all his words, all his promises—he wouldn’t actually choose you.

And if that happened… You weren’t sure you would ever recover.

—

Then the second half started.

And Marcus—

He came alive.

He had played well before, had held his own, but now—

Now, he moved with the kind of desperation that only meant one thing.

He was searching. For you.

You could see it—the way his eyes flicked to the stands every time he sprinted past, the way his celebration after a teammate’s goal was muted, distracted. The way he played like a man chasing something.

The ball came to him. Perfectly placed. An opening in the defense. A moment.

And Marcus took it.

A breathless cut inside, a flick of his boot— And then—

The ball soared past the keeper. The net rippled. And the stadium exploded. The sound was deafening. The world around him blurred into color and movement and chaos.

But Marcus—Marcus had one focus.

He turned. Spun. Ran. Straight to the stands. Straight to you.

And for the first time in years— There was no hiding.

—

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Because he was looking right at you. Because he had scored, and he had searched for you immediately. Because he had just celebrated a goal—his goal—by running to you in front of everyone.

Then he crouched. Hands reaching for his boots. Your stomach plummeted.

Because there—bold, unmistakable, in writing big enough for the cameras to catch—

Was your name.

Not a hidden initial. Not a coded symbol. Not something only the two of you would understand.

Just your name. For the world to see.

A statement. A promise. A choice.

Your breath hitched violently in your throat, something hot and painful burning behind your eyes.

Marcus stood, chest heaving, eyes locked on yours. And you saw it.

The rawness. The plea.

Are you still mine?

Your hands trembled. The entire stadium was watching.

It was only him. Just Marcus.

The boy who had loved you in secret, now loving you in the light. So you did the only thing you could. You stood.

Just enough for him to see you. Just enough for him to know. That you were still his. That he had won.

Before you could even process it, he was running—past the touchline, past security, ignoring the shouts of teammates and officials and cameras— Straight to you.

He kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate. A collision of lips and hands and breathless relief.

It was raw and reckless and full of every single moment he had made you wait, every single night he had whispered soon, every single second he had wasted keeping you in the dark.

The stadium erupted. The cameras flashed. The world saw.

You kissed him back.

It was finally real.

[sportsuo]

𝗮 𝗳𝗲𝘄 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀

don't be racist

don't be a jerk

don't talk about their private life if it isn't out. ex. grealish is fine

don't be a creep

also please start your ask with uo ''the sport''

[illusionsdelusions101]

if you’re still taking requests could you do an alejandro garnacho x reader imagine where he brings her to training to introduce her to the united team? thank you so much🫶

Love of my Life~ Alejandro Garnacho

A/N: sorry for slacking lads, BUT DID U SEE BRUNO'S AND MAINOO'S GOALS AGAINST LIVERPOOL TODAY!? FUCKING HELL LADS, I SCREAMED. btw, requests are always open. absolutely spam me with requests and i wouldn't mind.

Type~ Fluff

"Baby?" Alejandro calls out in our small apartment. You shout that you're in the bathroom. He makes his way over to the bathroom, leaning on the doorframe between yours and Ale's bedroom and the bathroom. You've just finished curling your eyelashes, fluffing your hair in the mirror and finally taking a deep breath as you look at yourself. "Ready?" Ale makes eye contact with you in the mirror. "Ready."

It had been a warm English afternoon for once, and you were going to meet the rest of the Manchester United squad. Now, why? Your Argentinian boyfriend, decided to out of the blue ask you last night, if you wanted to meet the squad. Since you were practically asleep, you agreed and when he told you about it today, you freaked out. Rushing to get yourself ready, you just now parked at Old Trafford Training Centre. Garnacho takes your hand for your lap and holds it. "I promise. They will love you." He smiles at you reassuringly and you nod.

You go out onto the pitch where everyone is. Ale is holding your hand. "Hey guys!" He shouts, and all the teammates look at him. They all start approaching Garnacho, seeing you so Ale can introduce you. If your boyfriend wasn't holding your hand so tightly, knowing that you get shy in these situations, you would've been in the car already.

"Guys, this is my girlfriend. Y/N." He smiles at you. All the lads say hello. "Hey, I'm Harry." You hear the awfully thick English accent. "Marcus." He lifts his hand up as a greeting. "Hiya, I'm Mason." He takes your other hand and shakes it. And all the others introduce themselves. You laugh slightly out of nerves and greet them back. Then Erik calls them for training. "Go sit in the stands. I'll see you after training, okay?" He kisses your cheek and you nod.

After a while Højlund, comes for water. "Hey, you're Nacho's girlfriend, right?" He says, out of breath. "Yeah, I am." You say, slightly laughing at his nickname. "Garnacho's been so much happier recently and now I know why." He smiles at you while he takes a sip of water. You grin and Erik shouts for Højlund. "I gotta go, see you around!" He waves and runs back to Erik.

~~~~~~~~~~~After Training~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You did well." You smile at Ale as you get into the car. "Thank you. And thank you for coming. The guys love you." He takes your cheeks and kisses you. You giggle. "Really?" You look at him. "Really."

"Glad everyone could meet the love of my life." He whispers against your lips.

[i0veless]

➛ MARCUS RASHFORD ABC (FLUFF EDITON)

𖥻 WARNINGS ー [ none ] 𖥻 AUTHORS NOTE ー [ requested by @lcvertrl "can you do abc fluff for marcus rashford" okay I am not a united fan by any means but to celebrate them winning a trophy (finally) heres come rashford content ]

➛ previous | taglist | masterlist | next

a :: attractive ➛ what do they find attractive about the other?

you found his confidence and his sense of humour attractive, while he thought your eyes and your smile were adorable.

b :: baby ➛ do they want a family? why/why not?

later down the line absolutely. but not just yet, they wanna get the timing right as having a child is a big step in their relationship. I feel like marcus would want to be a girl dad but ultimately he couldn't mind as long as you were happy.

c :: camera ➛ how do they document their relationships? who likes to take pictures? or videos?

marcus has multiple folders on his phone dedicated to photos of you doing anything to everything. probably prefers taking photos but has his fair share of videos too. while you, on the other hand not so much sure there may be a few but not nearly as many as marcus.

d :: dates ➛ what are their dates like?

a mixed bag really, but leaning towards the more classic romantic date. dinner (more to going out than staying in), picnics, beach days, spa nights and going on short holidays abroad, being a few.

e :: early ➛ what was the first month of dating like?

easygoing and light-hearted. taking time to get to know each other and savouring the small moments. dates almost twice a week, self-care night while watching movies after a tough match.

f :: friends ➛ how is their relationship with each other’s group of friends?

his friends like you instantly. They could tell how happy their friend was with you. you also had a similar sense of humour and were easy to gel with. but your friends, on the other hand, were a bit more hesitant. they made him earn their approval, as they were still under the impression that he was just another fuck boy footballer.

g :: gifts ➛ do they like giving each other gifts? what kind?

expensive. yet still sentimental, designers are a must and anything you want you will get. but will still give you the occasional very thought-out gift that will leave you short of breath and teary eyes.

h :: hugs ➛ all things involving hugs

back hug. the best kind. marcus is taller than you, so naturally, your body just sinks into his chest and softens under his warm embrace, which will probably lead to cuddling on the sofa. but he also is an avid enjoyed of all things hugs as closeness is something he loves to share with you.

i :: impression ➛ what was their first impression?

neutral, you were introduced by a mutual friend at a party, and the two of you weren't exactly sober. so the alcohol may have been the one swaying you to say it was a good one. but the first sober encounter was a good one at one of his matches after winning an important match.

j :: jealousy ➛ who gets jealous easier? how do they show their jealousy?

I would say that neither of you is really jealous unless someone is overstepping the boundaries. marcus is protective of you, not in an overbearing way but in a way that he cares for your safety and never wants you to feel uncomfortable by the advances made on him or you.

k :: kiss ➛ how do they kiss? who usually initiates?

depends if their in a rush, short and sweet pecks on the lips or checks. but if they have time-long and sensual kisses filled with passion and as for who initiates them, I would say it's 50/50 you are both comfortable with sharing intimacy and aren't afraid of expressing your physical affection for them.

l :: love ➛ how do they first say those three words?

marcus didn't really plan it he just stated it out there after spending a night together. and he had you smiling like an idiot, and of course, you said it back, and the rest is history.

m :: memory ➛ what’s their favourite memory together?

after winning the carbo cup, marcus couldn't keep his hands off you the whole night was spent with his teammates and you as you celebrated the well-deserved win, and it was also the night that marcus proposed.

n :: nicknames ➛ things they call each other

marcus would definitely call you stuff like angel, darling, baby, my love. while I feel like marcus loves nicknames on you he would hate them on himself the only few exceptions being babe and rashy otherwise just call him by his name.

o :: one ➛ tell us about the moment they realized they were with the one

a cold winter night, and marcus and you were watching a movie, the nightmare before christamas and the two of you were arguing if it was a charismas or halloween movie. as the two of you plead your case, rashford couldn't help but watch how you matched his intensity and passion. and it was there, and then he knew you were the one.

p :: pda ➛ public displays of affection between the two

not super public but also not afraid to show people you are his; holding hands is common, and maybe a peck on the lips as well. as sometimes may make out with you in a dark ally way if drunk enough. hand on waist, 24/7.

q :: quite ➛ do they break up? almost break up? what happened?

Low points in marcus's career would definitely strain the two of you, and would it lead to a breakup? maybe if the two of you do not address the issues and continue to ignore them. also, the media constantly talks about marcus and other women. which would make anyone insecure in their own right.

r :: romance ➛ how romantic are they? what would they do to make their partner happy? cliché or rather creative?

very romantic. just like the movies. marcus is a gentleman first footballer later. and knows how to treat his partner. maybe very cliche and predictable but it still makes you happy.

s :: support ➛ are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? do they believe in them?

100% supportive of each other no matter what they choose to do, even if it's without each other, and support each other publicly and privately, being an honest opinion if they ever need it.

t :: texting ➛ do they text each other a lot? What do they usually talk about over the phone?

when marcus is abroad for a match, they text all the time, not so much as call (maybe once or twice), but they def do check-ins though out the day otherwise, not so much. I imagine the two of you moved in together when it started getting serious, so there was no need to text when you were face-to-face 24/7.

u :: unique ➛ tell us about a habits that they have

marcus wakes up super early and always makes breakfast even if he has training. while you on the other hand are obsessed with soft things and marcus may or may not feed into that when he buys you gifts.

v :: vanity ➛ something they’re proud of in themselves and their partner

shows off his partner every time he gets, talk about them like they have done it all. But when it comes to himself marcus is very humble even though you do brag a fair bit about his achievements.

w :: wedding ➛ tell us about your wedding head canon if they’ve gotten that far. or if not, have they talked about it?

definitely getting married, similar to their thoughts on having kids. they want it, but not just yet. they are both young and have a lot to live for, so they don't want to rush it and possibly fuck up the relationship. but eventually, they will tie the knot with a low wedding with a lot of high-profile guests.

x :: x ➛ something they hate about the other

you greatly value alone time, and sometimes marucs may not take the hint, which leads to a bit of agitation but nothing the two can't solve. and it's a no-brainer that marcus is very busy, so sometimes he hates when you sometimes give him a hard time for 'not putting in effort' but once again his scedual is clear he will spend all the time in the world making it up to you.

y :: youtube ➛ what are they like online? Do they post about their relationship constantly?

you and marcus are both very busy, yet you still find a way to post about each other constantly. whether it's an insta story, tiktok, or tweet, you keep some part of your relashiship private to avoid the public knowing everything about your two relationships.

z :: zoo ➛ are they into animals? Do they want pets? What kind?

marcus is definitely more of a dog person. He already has a dog (saint), and I think he would want a couple more, but I can't see the two of you going past three. As it is a lot of effort to maintain dogs, but overall very much enjoys keeping them as part of his family.

[hendolish]

hiii , not sure if youre taking requests rn , just read the jude x rashy fanfic and im in love with this pair . could you write them but like a sick fick so jude is sick and rashy takes care of him :))

jude bellingham/marcus rashford - through the night ♡

Feeling very sorry for himself, Jude lies in bed, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, his face flushed and his nose sniffly. A soft sigh escapes his lips as he stares up at the ceiling, he's miserable but thankful that at least Marcus is here with him.

Marcus sits beside him, perched on the edge of the mattress. He gently places a hand on Jude's forehead, checking his temperature with a furrowed brow. "You're still burning up, mate."

Jude manages a weak smile. "Well, guess I've got my own personal nurse."

Marcus chuckles, brushing a hand over Jude's hair. " 'Course you have."

Jude's lips curl into a grateful smile, his gaze locked onto Marcus's caring eyes. "Really though, you're too good to me, Rashy."

Mouth curling upwards, Marcus doesn't miss a beat. "Well, we'd be in huge trouble if I let you waste away..." He laughs brightly as Jude musters up the energy to deliver him a playful smack to his thigh, "So would I though."

He looks thoughtful as he leans in, brushing a gentle kiss on Jude's forehead, a silent promise that he's there to take care of him. Jude's cheeks flush, and he suddenly feels warmer, not just from the fever. "You're always too sweet to me."

Marcus shakes his head, a tender smile playing on his lips. "Nonsense."

Jude chuckles, though it quickly turns into a cough. Marcus pats his back gently, his touch soothing. "Take it easy, Jude. Just rest. I've got everything covered."

As Jude settles back into his pillows, he can't help but admire the way Marcus takes care of him. His kind eyes, his gentle touch, and the way he tirelessly looks after Jude make him feel cherished.

"I wish I could be more help right now," Jude murmurs, his voice slightly hoarse. "But you're doing an amazing job."

Marcus squeezes Jude's hand, his thumb tracing soothing circles on his palm. "You don't need to do anything, mate. I'm here to take care of you. You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?"

Jude nods, his eyes filled with warmth and voice suddenly determined. "Of course."

Smiling, Marcus leans in and places another kiss on Jude's forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. Jude's heart skips a beat at the affectionate gesture, and he reaches out to cup Marcus's cheek. Their gazes lock, and there's a silent understanding between them.

The evening passes in a blur of whispered conversations, shared laughter, and Marcus's caring gestures. He keeps Jude hydrated, makes him soup, and keeps talking as the younger falls in and out of sleep. Jude can't help but be overwhelmed by the love and care Marcus showers on him.

As the night deepens, Jude's fever finally breaks. He feels cooler, lighter, and more comfortable than he has in days. He gazes at Marcus with gratitude in his eyes.

"Thank you," Jude says softly. "You made me feel so much better."

Marcus smiles warmly. "I'm always here for you."

With that, Jude drifts off to sleep, wrapped in warmth, love, and Marcus' comforting presence, who stayed by his side through the night.

♡

[httpsdana]

104 with Marcus rashford 💖

Commitment~Marcus Rashford

*GIF isn't mine. credits to the owner*

watching how Manchester is struggling to score and win sucks :(( anyways enjoy <3

you can request from my prompt list

this is my master list

players/drivers I write for

104-“you tricked me into loving you and left when you realized you couldn’t handle the commitment.”

y/n noticed some changes in Marcus lately. He was distant, more than usual. After a match, he'd come home and sleep immediately, without sparing her a glance or telling her how his day was.

She thought that maybe he was going through a rough time, because of the struggles his team was facing. But then he was distant everyday and not just after matches.

"hey Marcus. want some coffee?" she asked, when Marcus stepped into the kitchen in the morning

"no thanks. I have training. bye" he tried walking away, but y/n grabbed his wrist, stopping him from going

He turned to look at her, an annoyed look on his face.

"what?" he asked, rather rudely making y/n's hand drop to her side

"are you okay? I mean has something happened at training that you always come in a bad mood and never talk to me? or did i do something? what has been so bad that you won't even look at me anymore?" she asked, in a soft voice but the frustration was obvious in her voice

"we should break up" Marcus said bluntly, catching her off guard

"w-what?" she asked, too shocked by his words

He let out a sigh, now sadness present in his eyes.

"its just-I don't feel ready to be in such a serious relationship. I feel like we're moving too fast and the idea is really freaking me out" he breathed out, his eyes tearing up

"why did you do it?" she whispered, her eyes watering but she wasn't gonna cry in front of him

"do what?" he asked confused

“you tricked me into loving you and left when you realized you couldn’t handle the commitment.” she snapped

"y/n...I didn't trick you into doing anything. I really do love you and the way I fell for you too quickly terrified me. I have never felt this way before and I'm trying to leave before I find myself too attached to you. I'm scared that you might leave in the future and I can't handle that later on if I stay with you and fall for you even more" he answered back, his words sounded genuine and sincere

"but Marcus...did you not think about me? didn't you think that I'm already too attached to you that if you left right now I'll be crying my eyes out and I'll never get over you? you can't leave me right now because you're scared. I was scared once too. I thought about breaking up with you before falling for you too much. But then I saw how much I was enjoying being with you. How you treat me and how we love each other, and I wasn't scared anymore. Please Marcus, think about this. think about everything we did together and every memory we made" she nearly begged him, after understanding his stance.

She wasn't lying when she said she's thought about breaking uo, but she made deep thinking before she did it. And she didn't regret that decision

Marcus looked at her, his eyes still watery and glossy. He smiled and nodded.

"I promise I'll think about it. will you still be here when I come back from training?" he asked, a small smile on his face

She smiled back and nodded. He pressed a kiss on the top of her head before leaving for training, knowing he's not gonna take the wrong decision of leaving her.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Being your big brother’s best mate, Marcus is obsessed with you but he just can’t, so he tries to keep his distance as much as possible, until he finds you crying in your room because some idiot had you thinking you’re not pretty nor sexy enough, that no guy would ever want you if you kept being so shy and uptight all the time. So yeah Marcus can’t hold back anymore and makes it his mission to show you otherwise. Basically, if you’re okay with it, some angst turning into sweet smut, with him showing you how much he craves and adores you just the way you are with your shyness and all

Also idk if it’s worth writing in general so feel free to ignore it if you don’t like it🤍

this is my first time writing for marcus, i hope you like it 🫶🏻

marcus rashford x reader

fluff and implied smut!!

Love confession

marcus knew it was wrong having feeling for you. he was your brother’s best friend and he practically grew up with you. you were like his little sister but over time he started developing feelings for you in a not so brotherly way.

he knew you like the palm of his hand.

he was there for you when you had your first date and he was there for you when your boyfriend cheated on you. you were only seventeen at the time but you swore you were in love with him. and he was the one who wiped away your tears and held you all night while you cried over your ex.

he hated seeing you crying, especially over someone who wasn’t even worth of your tears.

and as the years went by he tried to stop his feelings for you, he really did but you were like a magnet to him. always finding his way somehow.

so he started avoiding your brother, saying he was too busy with practice and football games. but that implied that he started avoiding you too and that pained you because you thought he would never leave. he started answering to your text messages with short answers and sometimes he would leave you on read. you tried to call him but he wouldn’t reply.

you thought he was mad at you for something you did even if you weren’t sure.

so one night you drove all the way to his house because you got tired of his childish behaviour.

he heard your car in his driveway and he was surprised seeing you on his doorstep.

“hey y/n…what brings you here?” he asked with the fakest smile possible. he knew why you were there he just didn’t want to face the consequences of his actions.

“why?” you simply asked him.

“why? why what?”

“why are you ignoring me? you stopped texting me, answering my calls, hell, you even stopped texting my brother! your best friend! whatever got into you, you better sort it out because my brother doesn’t deserve this…he’s always been by your side and you are basically ghosting him…and if you got some problems with me…i’m here to listen to” you told him once he let you inside his home.

“i’m not mad at you…not at you or at your brother, i’ve just been very busy with the team and the games…” he said.

“oh cut the bullshit marcus! i know you! you’ve been a player all your life and you’ve never, never ignored us so much! what is your problem?” you asked him, clearly mad at his answer.

“you! you are my problem y/n…”

“w-what? is something i did?” you asked him.

“no…that’s the point, you did nothing wrong” he whispered.

“so what is it?” you asked him again but he started avoiding your look “marcus please…”

“you are my problem because i can’t stop these feelings i have for you…this is so wrong in many ways, you’re my best friend’s little sister, we grew up together but i…i think i’m in love with you and i don’t know how to stop it” he confessed completely avoiding your look.

your mind was spinning. you’ve been in love with marcus for years. you started have feelings for him the moment you found out your boyfriend cheated on you. marcus was there to pick you up and to help you get over him. he held you that night, he wiped away your tears and made you feel safe. you were just too stupid and young to realise that the man you needed was right beside you.

you did the most irrational thing you could ever think of and grabbing him by the neck of his t-shirt you pulled him closer to you and you kissed him.

he was shocked but he immediately started kissing you too.

“this is so wrong…” he whispered.

“i’ve always liked you marcus…i was just too stupid and afraid of your rejection” you confessed too.

“what about your brother?” he asked you softly while he stared into your eyes.

“he’s definitely not my first thought right now…” you joked and he smiled too.

“i can’t believe we were so stupid, what we could have been if we confessed years ago?” he sarcastically asked you and that made you laugh “but we’re here now…you’re all mine, and i really, really, want to show you how a real man should treat a princess like you…”he grabbed your hips and held you closer to his body “i really want to show you how much i need you right now” he kissed you once again.

“then take me to bed mister rashford…” you whispered in his ear.

that was all he needed from you because he has been waiting that moment all his life and he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

[fanficgirlysmhh]

Insta jealousy

Summary; When a flirty influencer's obsession with Kylian Mbappe gets out of hand, his girlfriend (y/n) uses a viral Instagram reel to teach him a lesson

Pairing; Kylian Mbappe x reader

Word count; 1281

Warnings: fluff, jealousy, relationship

The tension had been building for weeks. Every day seemed to bring another post or interview from Brenda, the influencer who couldn’t stop talking about how much she adored Kylian Mbappe. Yesterday, she’d taken it a step further, openly declaring in an interview that she loved Mbappe and wanted him to follow her on Instagram. To your dismay, Kylian had obliged. Now, they followed each other, and Brenda liked and commented cheekily on every one of his photos, completely ignoring the pictures of you two together.

You were trying to stay calm, but it was getting harder every day. Fans were tagging you in Brenda’s videos, filling Kylian’s Instagram with questions about your relationship status. You knew you needed to do something before you exploded.

One evening, as Kylian scrolled through his phone, chuckling at something Brenda had posted, you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. "Really, Kylian? You think this is funny?"

He looked up, surprised. "What are you talking about, y/n?"

You crossed your arms, the frustration bubbling up. "Brenda. She’s everywhere, always talking about you, and now you're encouraging her by liking and commenting on her posts."

Kylian sighed, putting his phone down. "It's just harmless fun. She’s just a fan."

"A fan who wants more than just an autograph," you shot back. "And it’s not just her. Her followers, your followers, they all keep tagging me, asking if we’ve broken up. It’s humiliating."

He frowned, the humor fading from his eyes. "I didn’t realize it was bothering you that much."

"Well, it is," you said, the tears of frustration welling up. "I feel like I'm competing for your attention."

Kylian stood, walking over to you. "You don’t have to compete for anything. You're the one I love."

"Then show it," you whispered, the fight draining out of you. "Because right now, it doesn’t feel that way."

Kylian pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "I’m sorry, y/n. I’ll fix this. I didn’t mean to make you feel like this."

You nodded against his chest, but the seed of an idea had already taken root. You would make him see what it felt like. The next day, you called your friends and set your plan in motion.

That afternoon, you and your friends gathered in your living room, ready to film the Instagram reel. You’d found a filter that showed pictures of footballers, allowing you to rate their hotness on a scale of 1-10.

"Alright, ladies," you said, starting the recording. "Let’s rank the hottest footballers."

The first picture that popped up was Jude Bellingham. "Ooh, Jude is definitely a 9," one of your friends said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Those eyes are killer," another friend agreed, giving Jude a high score.

Next up was Erling Haaland. "Haaland’s got that Viking look. Solid 8," you said, laughing as your friends nodded in agreement.

When a picture of Hugo Lloris appeared, your friends went wild. "a total 10!" one of them shouted.

You smiled, ready for the next photo. "And in second place," you said, glancing at the camera with a smirk as a picture of Marcus Rashford appeared, “is someone I’ve had the biggest crush on forever. He’s just... perfect. Definite 9.5.”

Your friends gasped and giggled. "Ooh, tell us more!" one of them teased.

"Maybe later," you said, winking at the camera.

That evening, Kylian came home, his face a mix of confusion and irritation. He held up his phone, the reel paused on the screen. "Y/n, what is this?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, though your heart was racing. "Just a fun reel with my friends. Why? Did it bother you?"

Kylian narrowed his eyes, a hint of jealousy flickering in them. "You didn’t even put me on the list, and you ranked guys who look like me. And what's this about a long-standing crush on Rashford?"

You crossed your arms, trying to maintain your cool. "Why does it bother you? You find it cute when Brenda fawns over you in every interview, and you even follow her back and like her pictures.“

Before Kylian could respond, his phone buzzed again. He glanced at it, his eyes widening slightly. "Rashford... he commented on your reel."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What did he say?"

Kylian read aloud, "‘Always knew I had a secret admirer! Thanks for the love, y/n.’” He looked up, his jealousy now unmistakable. “And he put a winking emoji.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Well, can you blame him?”

Kylian didn’t seem amused. Instead, he quickly typed a reply, "‘Back off, mate. She's taken.’”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his protectiveness. "Feeling a bit jealous, are we?"

Kylian sighed, pulling you into a hug. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I thought it was just harmless fun. But seeing you talk about other guys... yeah, it made me jealous."

You looked up at him, your resolve wavering. "I just wanted you to see how it feels."

He sighed, pulling you closer. "I’m sorry. I didn't think about how it would affect you. You know you're the only one I care about, right?"

You melted into his embrace, feeling the tension ease away. "I know. I guess I just needed a little reminder."

Kylian kissed the top of your head, holding you tight. "I promise, I'll be more mindful. And for the record, you’re way hotter than any influencer out there."

You laughed, feeling the last of your jealousy slip away. "And you’re way hotter than Haaland."

Kylian chuckled, lifting your chin to look into your eyes. "Good to know. Now, how about we take a break from social media and spend some quality time together?"

You nodded, smiling up at him. "Sounds perfect."

As the evening wore on, you and Kylian put the drama behind you

---

The next morning, as you cuddled with Kylian on the couch, you had an idea. Grabbing your phone, you set it up to record another reel. Kylian watched curiously as you began.

"Hey everyone," you said with a grin. "After yesterday's fun, I realized I missed someone very important. So today, I'm going to rank the hottest footballer, and honestly, there's no competition. The number one spot goes to..."

You turned the camera to Kylian, who smiled sheepishly. "Kylian Mbappe," you said proudly. "No one even comes close."

Kylian laughed, pulling you into his lap. "You're just saying that because you have to."

You shook your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "No, I'm saying it because it's true."

As you posted the reel, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Within minutes, comments started pouring in, and fans were tagging Brenda, mocking her obsession and praising your sweet relationship.

Kylian glanced at the screen and then back at you, his expression softening. "Thank you," he said quietly.

You smiled, leaning your head against his. "Always, Kylian. You're the only one for me."

[threelionsgirl]

Hey can you write one where the reader has a crush on Mason, but he says he only sees her as a friend, and that he has a crush on the reader's friend. But after y/n moves away from him, he realizes that he was always in love with her too. Please, with a happy ending!!!!

confessing love | mason mount

warnings: fluff, a bit of angst maybe? word count: 3767 notes: I LOVED THIS ONE!! remembering that english is not my first language, this has not been revised!!! i hope you like it :) masterlist | requests are open!

Y/N's camera lens traveled around the pitch during Manchester United's training sessions. And she loved her work as a visual media creator for the club's social networks. Combining her passion for football with her passion for photography was perfect. She was living a long-planned dream. Y/N was trying to get the best angles of the training session led by coach Ten Hag. She laughed a little when she saw Rashford and Casemiro play with the ball through the camera lens. He captured good moments of the two of them until she looked for her next target. That's when her lens passed Mason Mount. Y/N always liked to take pictures of Mason last because when her camera found him, it was hard to take the focus off him. She followed him all over the pitch, looking at him through her hyperfocus lens and taking more photos of him than of any other player. Of course, she knew it was a bit unprofessional, but no one needed to know, since she was the only one operating that camera and on the website and social media, all the players received the same publicity. The ones that remained, she kept in her personal collection.

Mason was running around the pitch, until he received a ball from Shaw, which he took on his chest and sent into the back of the net. Y/N made a point of capturing every moment as he celebrated by smiling, messing with his hair in a cute way and every bit of how his body reacted and the expressions on his face. Until he looked directly at her and realized that the camera was pointing at him. Mason began to make faces that made Y/N laugh as she recorded everything, without missing a beat. The truth was that Y/N was very friendly with all the players, they were nice and good company for going out and doing something fun, and nothing was more than friendship, but she had to admit that she had developed a special bond with Mason. She knew that with him, she didn't just want friendship, it was much more than that. But she felt too cowardly to admit it to him. He came running towards her, and she lowered the camera, finally taking the focus off him. She didn't need a camera to observe Mason Mount when she had him so close. "Too much work today, Y/N?"

"I'm always very busy, Mase." Y/N wiping the camera lens. Ever since she'd discovered her crush on Mason, she'd been a bit awkward around him because she found it hard to look at him and talk to him without looking like a lovesick idiot. A shiver ran through her body when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed with his other hand. "You need a break to relax, you work too much." Y/N was going to ask him what his ideas were for her to relax, but she wasn't so bold. "Today is Maya's birthday." Maya worked in PR at United and was one of her best friends at the club. Working with her was amazing. They always went out together whenever they could. "Oh, I know, she invited me." Mason smiled in a different way, which made a thousand butterflies fly around in Y/N's stomach. "So, I'll see you tonight, right?" She hugged the camera, too nervous to answer and stuttering Y/N just shook her head up and down. Mason left a kiss on her cheek and pulled away when Ten Hag called out to him. Y/N stood there watching Mason walk away for God knows how long, that kiss on the cheek was capable of melting her entire system. She was so caught up that she didn't even notice when Marcus approached.

She could say that Marcus was one of her best friends. He was the first person she had been close to since she started working at the club. She felt she could count on him for anything. "When are you going to tell him?" "What a fright, Rash!" She looked at him unconcerned. "You need to stop this!" "And you need to stop running away from my questions, Y/N." "I don't know what you're talking about…" "Come on, you don't lie to me. You've got a thing for Mase." They both watched Mason from afar. She looked at her friend and rolled her eyes. "How do you know that?" "I know you, honey." He laughed, pinching her nose. "Do you think I don't notice how you spend hours and hours stalking him with that camera?" "Yeah, I have a crush on him, so what?" "So you're really going to leave without exposing your feelings?" Marcus raised an eyebrow and Y/N bit her lip. A few weeks ago, she had received an offer to become a Real Madrid staffer. Moving to Spain wasn't in her plans, but the offer was too good to turn down. Her photos had been successful, and she was getting recognized for her talent, but she still didn't know if she would actually accept. She loved Manchester, she loved United, and she loved the players with whom she was already familiar. To change would be to leave that behind. Leaving Mason behind.

"I haven't decided yet. It's a good opportunity, of course, but…" "I bet having Mason would make you say no to the proposal." "Rash, you don't know what you're talking about." "I'm just suggesting it. I'm going to miss you, and I'd rather you didn't go, but I understand, and I'm advising you, if you go, go without this weight on your back." Rashford winked at her and turned back to the pitch. Y/N took one last look at the two of them before heading to the administration building, she needed to edit those photos and publish them. She knew she had a big decision to make, wondering if her friend Marcus was right. Would Mason be a good reason to make her stay in England?

Later, Y/N was at home getting ready for Maya's party when she received a message from Mason:

mase: do u want me to come and pick u up?

The truth was that Y/N didn't need a ride, but Mason's invitation was impossible to refuse. The minutes she spent in his car in the passenger seat, watching his profile drive through the streets of Manchester, were almost magical. So she quickly replied that yes, she wanted his ride. What she really meant was that she wanted his company at every moment of her life. She finished getting ready in an hour, which was about the time Mason pulled up in front of her house. In the car he seemed very excited about Maya's birthday party and for some reason that was giving Y/N confidence. Maybe Marcus was right, and she should get those feelings out soon before they suffocated her. Maya's birthday was taking place in a fancy hotel and Y/N was enjoying it with her friends, her Manchester United friends and, of course, Mason. He was great company at parties, always daring her to knock back shots of booze or asking her to dance. On the one hand, Y/N loved him, but on the other she felt sad. Every touch he made on her waist or anywhere on her body sent shivers down her spine, and when he looked at her smiling and fiddled with her hair without taking his eyes off her?

She couldn't resist. But the worst part was seeing other girls flirting with Mason when he was with her, and not being able to do anything about it, since Mase wasn't someone she could call her own. So she decided to hide in the bathroom for a while. What was supposed to be five minutes turned into almost thirty, and she decided to go out and look for Marcus. She needed her friend more than anything at that moment, but instead of finding him, she bumped into Mason, who looked five times more altered than the last time she'd seen him. "Mase?" "Y/N! You're gooone!" He said in that slurred, shuffling voice. "What happened to you, Mase? I leave you for a few minutes, and you decide to drink the whole bar?" He moved his mouth laughingly, and she supported him with her shoulders, helping him to walk. Mason in that state meant it was time to go home. She knew the friend she had. "Where are you taking me?"

"To your house." "I'm usually the one who takes the girls there." "Funny." She laughed and pulled him away. They arrived in the parking lot and Y/N guided Mason to where he had parked his thousand-euro car. "The key." She held out her hand, and Mason slipped his hand into the front pocket of his pants without complaint and handed it to her. He wouldn't let just anyone drive his car, but in that state he either obeyed Y/N or he obeyed Y/N. "There. Here we are. You can get to your room on your own, can't you?" she said from outside, in front of Mason's door, who didn't look very well, but well enough to get into his own house. He looked at her worriedly. "How are you going home?" "I'll manage, Mase. I can order an Uber." She shrugged, wanting to get out of there. "Not at all. You can sleep here. I'll drop you home in the morning." He suggested, taking her by the hand and leading her into his house, but Y/N didn't move, letting go of her hand. Mason seemed somewhat loving, but she needed to remind herself that whatever he was doing at that moment, he wasn't in his most sober state. Alcohol could easily manipulate his actions, and she didn't know what was real. "I'm not sleeping at your place."

"Why not?" He frowned at the refusal. Normally, Y/N never said no to him. "You've slept here before." "There were other people along." She said quietly. It was those parties that got a bit out of hand and went on until late, and everyone thought it was safer to spend the night than to drive drunk. "And what's wrong with not having other people?" He asked, moving closer. So close that Y/N could have sworn she felt something in her body fail. It could have been her heartbeat or her breathing. She gave a half-smile, refusing to answer that question. There were all the problems in the world spending the night with a guy she couldn't call her own. It was too much of a disservice to her poor heart. "You look strange." He pointed out, looking right into her eyes. "You were weird the whole party." "I wasn't."

"I know you, Y/N. Yes, you were." Mason took another step forward, holding one of her shoulders. "You don't want to tell me why?" Y/N analyzed for a few seconds, hating that moment. She knew Mason wouldn't stop until he got an answer out of her and that's when she thought of the response she'd gotten from Rashford that morning. So she took a deep breath, making one of the two decisions she needed to make at that point in her life. "This is going to sound really stupid…" "You can tell me anything." "Look…" She looked away, but Mason held her face and his touch felt so good, it brought the best feeling in the world to her heart. "I'll say it straight away, okay?" He warned and Mason nodded, interested. Y/N took one last breath and quickly poured the words over him. "I like you, that's all. I know we're friends and that I shouldn't like you, but I do and I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. I like you. Holy shit! I didn't want to like you, but I do, so what am I going to do? Hell! It's not my fault, I'm not in charge of my heart. Mase, I can't be around you without my heart leaping three hundred times and I need to know what you're thinking right now!"

Mason blinked, a little stunned by the revelation, and felt something bad inside him. The alcohol in his brain wasn't letting him think straight. "Shit…" He muttered softly, letting go of her shoulder. "Y/N…" "What?" she asked, bracing herself for what was perhaps the worst thing she could hear.

"You know I think you're amazing, right? I like you a lot Y/N you, but not like that…" He concluded and the sentence almost made Y/N's world come crashing down. That was definitely not happening. She felt pathetic. "I was actually interested in Maya…" Mason swallowed before saying it and that was the end of the world for Y/N. She could deal with unrequited love, but a relationship between Mason and her best friend? It was too much for her. "Oh my God…" She took a step back, wanting to get out of there and holding back any tears that might fall. "Mason." She whispered and he continued talking as if that wasn't the worst thing he was doing. "I'm really sorry." Y/N couldn't look them in the eye, the street seemed less painful. "We can still be friends after that, right? Nothing have to change…"

She suddenly looked at him, hurt. How could he ask her that after saying he liked her best friend? "I-I…" She stammered. "I don't know if I can go through with this until I'm sure I've gotten rid of all my feelings for you. Bye, Mason." Y/N turned her back on him and walked away as fast as she could. She couldn't do that. Walking away was the best option, until she no longer felt anything, until she saw Mason Mount as just a friend. The problem was that for Y/N it could last a lifetime.

A few days later…

Mason felt strange, he could even say a little unhappy. An unbearable emptiness. Ever since Y/N had left him, he hadn't seen her for a few days. What was that withdrawal? He couldn't even say. He even thought about asking Maya, but he felt like such an idiot after that conversation. He really had an interest in the girl, but after what had happened with Y/N, Mason didn't care, he just wanted to get that feeling out of him. Because his current condition was: he missed a girl with whom he was hopelessly in love. Like almost all of his clubmates, he was always asked what was going on between him and Y/N. Mason always denied any love interest. But it wasn't possible! Could it be that only they didn't see what everyone else saw? Or at least, only he didn't see? Maybe what he felt for Maya was just physical attraction and the person he really liked was Y/N. It had been so long since he had liked anyone and when this person appeared, Mason was terrified.

She was the one who greeted him at the CT with a smile every day and made him laugh with the photos she took of him while he was distracted. It was fun how she would blackmail him with those photos to ask for favors like buying her a milk shake or autographing his shirts. Even though Mason never said no to her, he loved their dynamic. He also liked having her at all his games, cheering him on and giving him a big hug when the game was over. Shit, Mason wanted that back. He wanted Y/N back in his life, he understood her pulling away, but he wasn't going to let it continue.

"Rash, do you know where Y/N is?" He asked Marcus as soon as training was over. "Y/N? She's resigned, Mase." Marcus replied a little sadly, but it had been Y/N's decision and he would respect it. Mason, on the other hand, looked shocked. "What do you mean?" "She received an offer from Real Madrid. Yesterday was her last day. She must be on her way to Madrid…" Marcus looked at his watch on his cell phone. He had managed to say goodbye to Y/N the day before. "Right now." "You can't be serious." "Serious. We've lost the best photographer in the world to a Spanish team." He felt a little guilty. "Do you think…"

"If she went to stay away from you?" Marcus concluded, holding Mason's shoulder. "Don't think too much of yourself, the proposal was very good, but yeah, I think what you said to her may have influenced your final decision." "Damn. I was such an idiot." "Yes, you were." "Do you think I can reverse it?" "If you want to, you can, but please, man, try not to hurt my friend anymore." That hurt, but Mason nodded and understood that it was up to him. Marcus gave him some details, but told him that it might be too late. Y/N was leaving for Madrid at that moment and Mason might have to wait a little longer. Mason found himself defeated for only a few minutes before he realized that if he really wanted her forgiveness, he would have to want it badly and to show it he would have to start right then and there. He left CT like a hurricane in his car and drove as fast as he could to the airport. He wore a hood over his head to avoid being recognized, it would slow him down too much. He looked at the screen and boarding for the next flight to Madrid had already started and Y/N was probably already in the departure lounge. He went to the nearest counter and bought the first ticket he saw. At the counter, while waiting to pay, he thought he was acting out a scene from the clichéd movies Y/N liked, but he couldn't have cared less. Y/N was worth it and if he hadn't been such an idiot, none of this would have been necessary. After passing through the boarding gate, Mason looked as quickly as possible for the flight gate, when he found it he saw the queue forming and Y/N was currently first in line, handing over her documents before getting on the plane.

"Y/N." He shouted so loudly that not only Y/N but most of the people present looked in his direction. She felt someone taking her headphones off and when she looked back she was surprised. "Mason?" The girl went static when she saw him. He came closer and she took the document back and walked over to him. It hurt so much to see him again, but she was curious and a little surprised. "What are you doing here?" "I'm asking you. I can't believe you'd leave without saying goodbye to me." She looked at him a little guiltily. "Besides, you forgot something of yours with me." "What?" "Me." He said quietly, holding her face. At that point, Y/N's brain was going haywire, as if she couldn't imagine that Mason Mount would come to the airport after her to propose. "Answer me this, why did you say that day that you didn't want to like me?" She swallowed. "Why… Because I knew you wouldn't like me back and that would ruin our friendship, like it did." "And how did you know that was true?" Mason arched an eyebrow and Y/N looked around for something to get her out of that situation.

"Well, you told me yourself." "I lied." Mason shrugged his shoulders feeling bad, even worse with the face Y/N was making. "Oh, you lied? Lied that you were interested in my best friend? What did you want with that? To make me feel bad?" Y/N took a deep breath because at that moment she was starting to get angry. "That hurt me so much, you have no idea, and now you come here after me thinking I'm going to be with you whenever you want, Mason?" She finished saying it and took a step back, at which point Mason realized that things were getting very bad for him. He approached her holding her hands, willing to make things right with Y/N. "I'm not proud of it, it's just that I was a bit terrified Y/N. I haven't liked anyone like that for a long time and I loved our friendship, but I didn't even know how much I liked you." He confessed and Y/N had to admit that it shook something inside her. "I found myself smiling for no reason until I realized that I was thinking of you. And that I couldn't waste another day of my life without you. Please give me another chance!" Y/N hesitated. This was difficult because on the one hand she was very hurt, but on the other, the fact that Mason Mount had come up to her in an airport and declared himself like that was all she had ever wanted.

"But what about Maya?" "I have nothing to do with Maya, I never have, and I don't want to. Please understand that." Y/N hesitated for a moment, looking at Mason for sincerity. She sighed, allowing herself to consider the possibility of a second chance. "Mason, it's not easy to forget what happened, but…" She looked into his eyes. "If you've really changed, if you're willing to be honest this time, then maybe we can try again." Mason let out a relieved sigh, his eyes shining with gratitude. "I promise, Y/N, no lies. I want to be more than a friend to you, I want to be someone you can trust." Y/N smiled, giving in to the moment. "All right, Mason. Let's start again, but this time, no secrets. Bring out your true feelings from the start." Mason agreed, determined to make things right. "I'd like that. And I promise I'll make up for any hurt I've caused." The two hugged, deciding to put the past behind them. "So, what's the next step?" Y/N asked, trying to keep things light. Mason smiled. "A date, maybe? Something simple, just to get us started."

Y/N laughed. "That sounds good. But this time, no made-up love triangles, right?" Mason laughed along with her. "Absolutely. Just the two of us, no complications, but…." "What?" "Let me kiss you now? I didn't want to wait until the date." Y/N laughed along with him, letting herself go and kissing Mason as she had always dreamed. And so, with laughter and a promise of honesty, Mason and Y/N took the first step towards a new beginning, redefining not just their friendship, but building something more meaningful and true.

[swayziiwriter]

☆ French footballers —

Embrace | Kylian Mbappé

Victory’s symphony | Kylian Mbappé

Pregnancy fluff | Kylian Mbappé

Handprints | Raphaël Varane

Animosity | Kylian Mbappé

Evening jealousy | Kylian Mbappé

Team gala | Jules Koundé

Destruction | Kylian Mbappé

Diamond | Kylian Mbappé

☆ Brazilian footballers —

Needy | Rodrygo Goes

Different | Rodrygo Goes

Gold | Neymar jr

Reward | Vinicius jr

Physical therapy | Neymar jr

Teasing | Vinicius jr

Rainy days | Neymar jr

Date night | Neymar jr

Heat | Richarlison

Ride it | Neymar jr

☆ English footballers —

Yours | Jude Bellingham

Attentive | Marcus Rashford

Vulnerability | Jude Bellingham

Sunrise | Trent Alexander-Arnold

Messy | Mason Mount

Devotion | Jude Bellingham

United | Marcus Rashford

Petty | Jude Bellingham

Nighttime frenzy | Marcus Rashford

Congratulations | Trent Alexander-Arnold

Tension | Jude Bellingham

Curve | Marcus Rashford

Goal scorer | Jude Bellingham

Party monster | Trent Alexander-Arnold

☆ Spanish footballers —

Against me | Pedri González

Talk that talk | Pablo Gavi

Tangled Emotions | Pedri González

Forbidden | Pablo Gavi

Ablaze | Alejandro Balde

Belong to me | Pedri González

Hands to myself | Pablo Gavi

Beachside | Pedri González

Restricted | Pablo Gavi

Pleasure | Pedri González

Apart | Alejandro Balde

Rhythm | Sergio Ramos

Forget | Pablo Gavi

☆ Other footballers —

Persuasive | João Felix

Trench Coat | Erling Haaland

Behind the wheel | Ronald Araújo

Playing with you | João Félix

International | Lionel Messi

Shower | Erling Haaland

Expert | Virgil Van Dijk

[judebelle]

welcome to my blog!

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requests are OPEN

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masterlist

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~ who i write for ~

football players

neymar jr

jude bellingham

joão félix

pablo gavi

kylian mbappe

trent alexander arnold

marcus rashford

mason mount

pedro (pedri) gonzález

antoine griezmann

giovanni reyna

alejandro balde

(open to more people!)

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~ what i write ~

angst, fluff, smut

(mostly one shots, but i might make a series in the future!)

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~ DONT’S ~

copy my work (re-blogging is okay), spreading hate or any discrimination is NOT tolerated!

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make yourself at home 🫶