#Ronaldo x you

[wavypotatochips]

Can you please write like a Cristiano Ronaldo Dos Santos Aveiro fanfic or oneshot? Its really hard to find one😭 and youre a really good writer based off your sergio ramos oneshots.

𝙈𝙮 𝙏𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙮 𝘽𝙚𝙖𝙧 | 𝘾𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙤 𝙍𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙙𝙤

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Cristiano Ronaldo x Female Reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Cristiano surprises you and lavishes you with affection.

Word Count : 1k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: Of course I can! and thank you so much for the compliment KISS KISS MWAAAH. And as always, Thank you so much for requesting!! I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Due to finals, I have not been able to write as much as I usually do and I'm currently catching up on current requests because I'm a little behind. If you would like to send a request, do so now as after this weekend, request will be temporarily unavailable. mwah mwah love ya! ♥

You woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing on the nightstand. You rubbed your eyes and picked it up, smiling when you saw that the message was from Cristiano.

"Good morning beautiful, I hope you slept well. I have a surprise for you today. Be ready by 10 am. Love you."

Your heart fluttered at the message. You had been dating  Cristiano, one of the most famous futbol players in the world, for a few months now and every day felt like a dream. You got out of bed, feeling excited for what the day would bring.

Cristiano knocks on the door around 10 a.m., and when you respond, he hands you a bouquet of flowers in a vase. "Cristiano, you have the house key," you chuckle, smiling gleefully at him. Cristiano's mornings are normally filled with strenuous gym workouts, which is why he wasn't there when you woke up. You sniff the roses momentarily before laying them on the counter near the door. Cristiano is dressed casually in pants and a t-shirt. He smiled at you as he extended his hand to you.

“Of course but it's more romantical when I do it like this, eh?,” he responds, causing you to roll your eyes playfully as you take his hand.

"Ready for your surprise?" he asks, his eyes sparkling.

"Of course! What is it?" you ask, unable to contain your excitement. 

Cristiano leads you to his car and opens the door for you, a gentleman as always. You got in and he drove off, the wind blowing through your hair as you enjoyed the warm weather.

After about half an hour of driving, Cristiano pulls into a beautiful park. He gets out of the car and opens your door, taking your hand and leading you to a picnic blanket that he had set up on the grass.

"I thought we could have a picnic today," he said, gesturing to the basket of food he had brought. “I know I have been working hard with training sessions and such, but I just want to remind you how precious you are… and you know, how much you mean to me.”

With a wide grin on your face, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for his thoughtfulness. He had gone out of his way to bring your favorite snacks and drinks, and it was moments like these that made you realize how amazing he was. It was ironic how social media had painted him in such a negative light - as someone who was rude and ignorant - when in reality, he was just one big teddy bear.

You spent the morning lounging on the blanket, enjoying the delicious food and talking about everything and anything. Cristiano told you about his childhood, his dreams, and his hopes for the future. You listened intently, feeling grateful for the chance to get to know him on a deeper level.

After lunch, Cristiano surprised you with another activity. He had rented a boat and took you out on the water, the sun shining down on you as you floated along.

As you leaned back against Cristiano , feeling the warmth of his body against yours, you couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment. You had never felt so cared for and loved by anyone.

As the sun began to set, Cristiano took you to a fancy restaurant for dinner. He had made reservations at a table with a beautiful view of the city skyline. You ate amazing food and drank expensive wine, feeling like royalty.

As the night went on, Cristiano kept surprising you with little gestures of love. He held your hand under the table, whispered sweet nothings in your ear, and even serenaded you with a song.

As you walked back to the car, hand in hand, you felt like the luckiest person in the world. Cristiano  had spoiled you for the day, but what really made you feel special was the love and care he had shown you throughout the entire day.

"Thank you for today," you said, looking up at Cristiano  with gratitude in your eyes.

"Anything for you, my love," he replied, leaning down to kiss you softly.

You melted into his arms, feeling like you were on top of the world. This was what true love felt like, and you were grateful to have found it with Cristiano .

As the car pulled up to the house you two share, Cristiano  helped you out and walked with you hand-in-hand to the door. You turned to face him, feeling a little sad that your perfect day had come to an end.

"I don't want this day to end," you said, pouting slightly.

"I know, me neither. But don't worry, there will be many more days like this," he said, cupping your face in his hands and gazing into your eyes.

He leaned in to kiss you again, his lips soft and gentle against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling his warmth and strength enveloping you.

After a few moments, he pulled away and took your hand, leading you inside. He wrapped his arms around you from behind as you walked to the couch. Once near the couch the both of you kick off your shoes and instantly cuddle against one-another. Cristiano  grabs the blanket that is on the couch and throws it over you both. He instantly holds you as close as he can as you snuggle up against him.

"I love you so much," he whispered, his voice full of emotion.

"I love you too," you replied, feeling your heart swell with affection.

"You bring out the best in me. Do you know how much you mean to me?" he questions, nuzzling his face into your hair.

"I do. I love you so much and i'll always be here for you my love" you said, smiling up at him.

He looked you in the eyes with such love that your heart skipped a beat. He leaned in for a delicate kiss, his lips soft against yours. In that one simple gesture, you felt all the love in the world, and you kissed him back with equal tenderness. As you drew away, he stroked your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. You gazed up at him, your heart pounding, and he flashed you a bright smile that lighted up his face. You two felt more in love than ever before as you enjoyed the warmth of each other's company.

[multifandomfanfic]

could you do something where ronaldo is your ex and you broke up because he cheated but he saw you with another man at a party and he got really jealous??

Cold Air

Word Count: ~2.2k

A/N: I hope you enjoy! Sorry this took so long and sorry if any descriptions of Qatar are inaccurate. Just suspend reality for a bit :)) (also, I proof-read this, but it hasn’t had a second pair of eyes look at it)

The city lights passed by your car as you made your way to the club. The World Cup was in full swing and, today, Portugal had beaten Switzerland by five goals. You wrinkled your nose. Portugal. As good of a team they were, any mention of their team, and especially a certain player, left a foul taste on your tongue. 

It wasn't like you didn't love Ronaldo. You did.., well, you had loved him at one point. Months ago you had been positive your relationship was going to last forever; you were living together, you went with him to his events, and you were even certain you had spied an engagement ring in his bag once. All of that was squashed within seconds thanks to Ronaldo’s unlocked phone and a few Instagram DMs. 

Within days, you had moved out of your shared house and into an apartment far away from Manchester. Ronaldo agreed to pay the first year of your rent in return for you not going public about his infidelity, but you took the high road. You did not need his help and, after what he did to you, you decided that you did not want to have any connection to him any longer. Enough was enough.

But here you were, in Qatar, the day his team beat the Swiss.

Your phone vibrated and you dug it out of your purse. 

I'll have to leave a little early tonight, Emi texted you.

What? Why?

Coach wants us to get at least eight hours of sleep before some extra practice in the morning. He explained, I'm free to do whatever you want tomorrow night.

You groaned and slumped back into the car seat. Great. Just great. The only reason you were going to this club was to celebrate Emi’s friend’s birthday, whom you had never met. In fact, you hardly knew anybody on his team. You had spent so much time with Portugal and Manchester United that you hadn’t become acquainted with any of the other teams. Besides, you had only been seeing Emi for a couple of months. 

“Is this it?” your driver asked. 

“Yes, this is it,” you sighed. The cold night air raised goosebumps on your skin as soon as you pushed open the door. It was refreshing and briefly distracted your mind from the awkwardness awaiting you inside.

The bouncer opened the rope as you approached. The club’s exterior was lit by LED lights, beckoning people to venture inside. Quite a crowd had amounted outside, drawn by the possibility of seeing a world-class futball player in person. They watched you as you entered the building. Who were you? And why were you here?

The interior of the bar was as exuberant and bright as the exterior. The only difference was the number of people crammed within its walls. Bodies were pressed against each other, moving to the music blaring from the speakers. Two bartenders were hurriedly making drinks for the growing crowd. They had been instructed to prioritize the futball players and serve them first, but they were struggling to keep up with that demand.

You scanned the throngs of people. One or two of the men close to you looked familiar, but the lights were set just dim enough that you couldn’t distinguish people from a distance. Their forms blended into one, swaying mass.

Person after person bumped and shoved you (whether on accident or on purpose, you couldn’t tell) as you forged your way to the bar. Surely, there were too many people in the club to be safe, but nobody paid attention. They were all having fun. You were the walking embodiment of dread.

You tugged on the end of your dress. It wasn’t yours–one of the players’ girlfriends had lent it to you–and it wasn’t exactly your taste either. The color was off and it fell awkwardly on your thighs. Anyone who knew you would know the dress was not your first choice. 

“Excuse me?” you asked the bartender closest to you, “Can I get one of those?”

The mixture of alcohol he was making was taking all of his attention, and he made no effort to respond. You groaned, leaned against the bartop, and began people-watching. There was no sight of Ronaldo or Emi. You weren’t expecting Ronaldo to be there, but you could never be too sure. 

“Y/N!” a familiar voice called from behind you.

You turned around and smiled, “Emi!” 

He pushed his way through the crowd, nodding and grinning at his friends. You recognized none of them, despite going to many of Emi’s games. Maybe you were too stuck in the past.

Once he reached you, Emi grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him. 

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, leaning over slightly and began kissing your neck. Several people’s eyes landed on the two of you. 

“Babe, please,” you whispered, “Not in public.”

He stepped back, “Why not?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable with it, ok?” you replied. To be honest, you had no idea why it made you so uneasy. People looking at you was one thing, but something else was off.

Emi smirked and loosened his grip on your waist, “Fine. But I will be seeing you tomorrow night.”

“It’s a date,” you chuckled. He left you one more kiss on your lips as he started to back away. He smiled and nodded his head goodbye. Before you knew it, Emi had disappeared into the mass of people.

The bartender continued to pay attention to other patrons, leaving you drinkless and bored. There was a full-length mirror behind the back of the bar. You examined yourself in it, rubbing off the lipstick that had made its way off of your lips and adjusting your hair so it fell just right on your face. A figure began to form behind you. Someone was making their way to the spot to your left. The way the lights were positioned and flashing, you could not tell who it was.. that is, until they spoke.

He ordered two of your favorite drink and, like clockwork, the bartender had them finished within seconds.

“You look good,” he almost mumbled as he took the first sip from his drink. His eyes scanned your figure, soaking in every aspect of how the dress fell on your body. You could have slapped him, “Although, I wouldn’t peg you as the type of girl to wear something like that.”

“What do you want, Ronaldo?” you spat. His face changed for a moment at the use of his last name instead of Cristiano–what you used to call him–but, within seconds, it was back to his usual, sly look. On the other hand, you could feel your face turning red. Months of pent-up rage and regret flooded back into your head. Why had you come here? Why did he have to be here?

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said as you picked up your drink. You slammed it back down on the counter. A little sloshed over the edge and the bartender immediately wiped it with his towel. He scowled at you but smiled at Ronaldo. You pushed the glass to the farthest point on the bar that you could reach. You refused to drink it. That would make it seem like you were diving in.

“I asked you what you wanted,” you seethed, arms crossed across your chest, “Can you answer my question?”

He rolled his eyes and looked around as if you were the only person in the room who did not know what he was going to say. He then leaned closer, “You could do much better than an Argentinian. That’s all I wanted to say.”

You froze. Your mouth hung agape, your mind was apparently empty of any good comebacks. After a moment you managed a “Are you kidding me?” and a small, all-too-exaggerated laugh. The audacity this man had. He cheated on you, not the other way around. 

“Do you think I’m joking? I’m just stating the obvious, darling,” Ronaldo smirked. He leaned against the bar, drink in hand. Triumph was written all over his face. 

You pulled out twenty dollars from your purse and slammed it onto the bar to cover your drink. You stood up straight, staring your adversary in the eyes. 

“I’m done with your bullshit, Ronaldo. Do I need to remind you whose fault it was that we broke up? It wasn’t me!,” you shouted just loud enough so the people closest to you could hear, “Have a good life.”

You stormed past him, purposely bumping into his shoulder on the way to the back. Your feet carried you past the mob of bodies. Instead of annoying you, they acted to your benefit, creating an almost impenetrable sea for Ronaldo to cross to get to you. You made it to the back exit swiftly and, without hesitating, escaped the room.

The chilly air greeted you like an old friend. Your dress was hardly enough to keep you warm, but it didn’t matter. Compared to the inside of the bar and its patrons, it felt more friendly and calm in the frigid night.

You pulled out your phone and started searching for an Uber to take you home. You began walking down the alleyway, enveloped in the screen in front of you rather than paying attention to your surroundings. That was why you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a cold hand grab a hold of your arm.

You whipped around and tried to strike the attacker with your bag but, after a moment, you saw that it was none other than Ronaldo. Despite recognizing him, you still managed to hit him with your purse. You ripped your arm from his grasp and backed up. You weren’t truly scared of him, not at all, but he repulsed you so much that you wanted to distance yourself from him as much as you possibly could.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you exclaimed.

“Y/N, listen to m–”

“No, tell me what you think you’re doing!”

“I don’t know what I–” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and shifting his weight.

“You don’t know what you’re do–”

“Y/N, would you just listen to me, please?!” Ronaldo finally begged. He stood with his arms extended to you, silently pleading with you to let him speak, “Please?”

You checked your phone and then crossed your arms, “You have two minutes, Ronaldo, then I never want to see you again.”

“That’s fine, that’s perfect,” he took a step back. He looked at the sky as he took a deep breath. The stars were shining down on the two of you, illuminating the alleyway just enough that you could see Ronaldo’s breath and the sweat dripping down his face. What was bothering him so much?

He sighed, exasperated with his own thoughts, “Y/N, I.. you know I love you right?”

You did not reply, nod, or shake your head. You kept your eyes glued on him but, on the inside, your stomach was turning. This conversation could lead nowhere good. In the months since your break-up, you had thought about getting back together plenty of times. Yet, in reality, you could never let yourself do that. He cheated on you once. He had broken your trust. That could not happen again.

“I know you do. And I know, I hope, that deep down you still love me,” Ronaldo continued, trying to get any reaction out of you, but none came, “I will never love another woman as much as I love you. You were the light of my life, the thing that made me smile every single day without fail. You enchant me, Y/N,  and I went and screwed everything up. Will you forgive me?”

You scoffed, your arms only crossing tighter in front of your chest, “Don’t give me this ‘I love you most ardently’-esque crap. You cheated on me, Ronaldo. I have proof!”

“And I regret it every day! Y/N, you don’t understand how much I’ve beat myself up over this. I love you! You make me happy!”

“Ronaldo, if I really made you happy, frankly, we would not be in this situation right now,” you said, pursing your lips. You shrugged, “I am sorry, but I can’t forgive you.”

With that, a grey sedan drove to the end of the alleyway behind you. You checked the description on your phone–it was your ride.

“That’s me,” you said. The amount of water vapor in front of Ronaldo’s mouth only increased as he grew angrier and more confused. His mind was running, trying to find some solution to have you back, or to get you to at least forgive him, but he could not find one.

“Can you at least call me Cristiano?” he finally called out as you started to walk away.

You turned around. After a moment, you nodded, and made eye contact with him once more, “Alright, Cristiano. As I said earlier, I hope you have a good life.”

[gabigabigabby]

headcanons | portugal national team

seleção portuguesa x fem!reader

headcanons of other countries; brazil, england and argentina

a/n: of course i had to do it with my portuguese babies! i love this team so much 😭 enjoy! 🇵🇹

synopsis: headcanons of the portugal national team during the world cup 🏆

—

cristiano ronaldo

cristiano has always been a dad figure to u

u feel that way bc u have met gio and their kids

alana is obsessed w u btw

u and gio are almost inseparable

especially during the world cup

at the world cup, u would always sit w gio and the kids

cris is honestly thankful that ur always there to help out

even if he doesn't admit it

cris would ask u for fun ab the positions portugal should use in upcoming tournaments

"when we face korea, what kind of starting position would be good?"

"idk, 4-3-3?"

"but we did that last game"

he always wants ur opinions on anything that can help better the team

and lucky for u (and cris), u know football enough to give ur opinions

cris loves u (seriously)

joão félix

u promised urself u wouldn't date a footballer

but at the same time, u wished joão wouldn't respect that

there is no doubt that u like joão

bc who doesn't

it's also not ur fault that joão is so charming and gorgeous

he would always ask u out for coffee

or for tacos

he's obsessed w them

he dedicated his goal against ghana to u

"when u score, can u do ur atléti bang bang bang thing?"

"no"

he did his atlético gun celebration anyway just for u

trust when i say the kid is obsessed w u

ruben dias

ruben is like a big brother to u

u never really understood a brother's love

that all changed when u met ruben

i like to imagine that it was ruben specifically that introduced u to joão

u met ruben earlier than the rest bc u are a huge man city fan

u were there at ruben's first game for man city

ruben loves getting on a yacht and suntanning

and u do too

so everytime ruben got the chance to rent a yacht

u were the first person he invited

ruben always makes sure u feel comfortable around the city and portugal guys

especially if any of them try to come onto u (which rarely ever happens bc they're all absolute sweethearts)

bernardo silva

u dont want to say bernardo is like a father figure to u

but that's literally how he is around u

bernardo feels very protective of u

whenever nobody offers u anything

enter, bernardo silva

"hey, u want water or anything?"

"u okay? need anything?"

before the second half of the game starts

bernardo would approach the box and ask if ur feeling comfortable

"how are u finding the game? are u comfortable? i can ask the gaffer to let u sit at the benches if u want"

[porcobrainr0t]

all too well

PAIRING cristiano ronaldo x fem!reader

GENRE angst; reader is a little delulu

CONTENT WARNING swearing, toxic relationships, cristiano more like crizztiano, reader talks to herself a lot, reader has hair you can put in a ponytail, readers race is not relevant nor involved

AUTHORS NOTE the first paragraph is doubled and i apologize, I’ve tried everything but its super late so i cbb

It wasn’t rare; moments like this. Sitting in your small apartment, alone with your thoughts as a lifeless phone lay on the coffee table to your left. He’s busy, is what you convinced yourself. He can’t always make time for me. You gave him time.

It wasn’t rare; moments like this. Sitting in your small apartment, alone with your thoughts as a lifeless phone lay on the coffee table to your left. He’s busy, is what you convinced yourself. He can’t always make time for me. You gave him time.

Yet, time went on, and still no response. The candle lit near the television was being drowned in it’s melting wax, a candle lit not long after you sent the message. You let your eyes shut.

When you awoke, the sun had yet to rise. It was roughly four am, your throat was dry and your eyes watered. An unfamiliar blanket was wrapped around your frame and a sloppy, lazy note was left on the coffee table. The candle was blown out. Giving your eyes time to adjust to the lighting, you tried to make out an outline of what the piss-poor handwriting had intended.

‘Sorry I missed tonight, sweetheart. Reschedule tomorrow?’ A sigh left your lips. It’s the third raincheck for this very date— Was all this even worth it? Was truly the only thought you could think. It was getting exhausting, and you considered yourself a patient person.

That was until the next Sunday. Which followed a Monday where he had to fly out to God knows where for God knows what. That Sunday evening, two of you sat in uncomfortable silence in an overpriced restaurant while your pasta grew cold. Cristiano pokes at his own meal, avoiding eye contact. It was a very awkward dinner; the waitress evidently being solely interested in making sure Cristiano was pleased, and the man only played along. Entertaining her as she bites and licks her lips while he talks, chewing her gum slower and extending her lips with every tense of her jaw.

If you wanted shit like this, you guys would have went to Hooters— or in other words a god damn strip club. At some point, when you placed your hand on top of Cristiano’s, his immediately flocked away while he continued the conversation. But what really threw you off was when he starts, “Hm.”-ing and “Mm.”-ing gruffly for every little thing, the lack of eye contact making you go quiet. Your barely touched pasta lay before you, and you scoff.

Getting up, you blink grimly at his confused expression and make your way to the door, removing your heels once you make it outside. Alright, you settle, so I’m walking. The overwhelming scent of everything invades your nostrils and it makes you nauseous. It isn’t long on your voyage before you hear footsteps approaching you from behind, and a hand sliding across your waist to embrace you.

“What was that?” He queries, and you scoff once more. Does this man really not have an ounce of respect for you? It feels more like a rhetorical question, and you push his invading hand away by force, yet he places it once more.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Tell me what’s wrong first.”

You stop dead in your tracks, and he follows. He’s unbelievable. “You’re what’s fucking wrong, Cristiano. Do you ever hear yourself? I mean, seriously, you take me out after no-show’s three times in a row, you ogle the waitress the whole time we’re there and you don’t even acknowledge me— then you come out here and ask me what’s wrong? You make me feel fucking stupid!”

He stares at his feet. “I didn’t know that was how you felt,”

“Why would you? You only ever care about yourself. I can’t stand it. Leave me alone, Cristiano. I mean it.” Your feet are on fire, the cement digging into your soles. You’d rather endure this feet pain than stay with him any longer.

“Can you— can you at least, let me take you home? Please? I can’t leave you out here…” He inquired, although you were quick to shut it down. But Cristiano was faster. “You live miles out from here, sweetheart. Let me take you home, and I’m out of your hair.”

You sighed and accepted the invitation. It was another awkward ride. The radio wasn’t lively, a slow song from his native language played softly in the background. Throughout the ride, Cristiano had managed to get his rough left hand to rest on your thigh and caress it apologetically. The sensation made you think. Do I really want him gone forever?

Cristiano must have been thinking the same thing, because once the car was in park, his seatbelt was off and he was rushing to get your door open.

“I want to make sure you get in safe,” was his excuse, and you hummed. Arguing wasn’t on your to-do list at the moment. When the two of you reached your door, you fumbled with the keys to get the door unlocked, pushing it open after the latch clicked.

“I’m here. And ‘m safe. So you can leave now. Goodbye.” You excused him, although Cristiano had other plans. His hand found its way behind your hair, his thumb under your earlobe. It was hard to say goodbye, when his eyes held such passion, he had you practically melting in his hand.

Cristiano leaned in, until his lips met yours and you two were in the doorway. The kiss was broken when he had both of you in the apartment with the door shut. “I’m really sorry,” he kissed your knuckles, and began leaving a trail of them all over. “Really sorry.”

He led you to your bedroom, and sat you at the foot of the bed. On his knees, he kissed your ankle, and once more led a trail going up from there. Cristiano’s tenderness made your insides turn inverted, and your face felt like it was on fire. He kissed your cheek, then the corner of your lips before fetching some comfortable clothes for you to change in. He didn’t let you change yourself, only ever instructing you to put your hands up or jump. After treating you with such care, Cristiano pulled a scrunchie from your nightstand and put your hair in a comfortable ponytail, knowing you can’t sleep with it in your face.

Cristiano puts you under the covers with a peck to your forehead, soon changing into a pair of sweatpants he owned that was left at your home. It isn’t long before he’s in bed with you, grasping you in his arms and putting you to sleep. Mumbling a small, coherent thank you, he hums in response.

When you wake, Cristiano is not to be seen. This feeling is all to familiar. You know it all too well.

[sunvisetrip]

First seconds with Ronaldo discreetly being a tsundere softie for Draluc.

And 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 really seals the deal on how much Rocchan genuinely cares for him.🥺 I'm serious, Ronaldo actually said this line:

[chirpsythismorning]

Ranking Byler Fandom Hiatus Moments (so far)...

Scriptgate: Hot take, but this one's gotta be my favorite. I don't even mind when something happens involving Nick from 8flix or the writers, causing the tag to get clogged with some variation of scriptgate, because the memes are simply top tier. Not only that, but it literally got the writers' attention and now we get 'official' scripts weekly as a result? Idk. Kind of iconic.

Mikhailgate: It's crack. Like it's funny, it's simple and yet comes from this very small, forgettable moment in season 4 that very few of the general audience probably even remembers, let alone picked up on at all, and that's just so on-brand for Bylers.

Frog Mike/Bald Mike/locked in Duffers' basement: Uhhhh bottom of the pyramid. You three just, didn't stand out to me...

Edit: I FORGOT CRISTIANO RONALDO WALKING UP TO STAGE??? IM SO EMBARRASSED! IM HONESTLY ASHAMED! Well, I guess I’ll just add it as an honorable mention. Just know that it would have made the top 3 😓 Edit 2: also forgot sock anon, my beloved

[dubiousdisco]

THE ENTIRE BRAZIL TRYING TO HELP RICHARLISON MAKE HIS GOAL AND HE JUST CANT DO IT THIS IS SO SAD

[greynatomy]

rivals?

alexia putellas x messi!reader

request here

with all the alexia angst being posted (my fault), here’s some fluff

———

In the world of professional football, rivalry between two players are always one that many fans are eager to watch.

In the men’s world of football, there was Messi and Ronaldo.

In the women’s, Messi and Putellas. Two of the most sought after female footballers of this time.

You and Alexia were known as fierce rivals on the field when competing for your country. You for Argentina, Alexia for Spain. Both of your competitiveness fueling debates among fans. Little did everyone know, behind the scenes, you both shared a secret that could rival the on-field intensity.

Away from the spotlight, you and Alexia were much more than rivals and teammates — you were married.

Your love story began when you’d transferred from playing in the Women’s Super League to Barça. From the first time she’d laid her eyes on you, there was an instant connection. At first she didn’t know how to feel about your transfer, only having played against you for the national team, where the rivalry grew and grew, but as you both played for Barça, the understanding and pressure you both experience helped you grow closer.

Late-night rendezvous, secret getaways, and coded messages allowed you to maintain your privacy. It was difficult to keep everything a secret, something you’ve both agreed on. Time moved quickly from the first time she’d seen you in a Barça kit to now, six years later.

You’re both cuddled up on the couch, watching a replay of the match you’ve just played, pointing out the things you and the team could have done better, when you heard some whining on the baby monitor searched up on the coffee table.

With a kiss to your head, Alexia got up to see what the fuss was all about. You watched on through the monitor, seeing how your wife delicately held and talked to your two year old, making you fall in love with her all over again.

“See look there’s Mami.” Alexia points you out, walking in with Rosa in her arms.

“Mami.” Rosa mumbles, arms reaching out for you, cuddling into your body once in your hold.

“How was your nap, bebé?”

All you got was a whine. Alexia cuddles back into your side as Rosa falls back into a slumber.

“I’ve been thinking.” Alexia starts.

“Uh oh. Mamá has been thinking.” You tease, earning you a playful shove.

“Seriously. Rosa turned two a bit ago and I want to be able to show her what her Mami and Mamá do or work. The environment which all the fans.”

Alexia starts to ramble. Saving her from spiraling, you place a hand over her mouth stopping her words.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

With a bright smile on her face, Alexia pulls you in a passionate kiss, careful to not wake your daughter up.

Three weeks later, Spain has a friendly match against Argentina. Everyone played hard no matter that it was only a friendly, the match ending in a draw.

As far as the public knew, you and Alexia were still rivals, enemies, or any other term they use, so whenever they see you conversing after matches, fans and media freak out, like right now.

What the fans didn’t expect was a small child running into your arms with laughter. Standing up with Rosa in your arms, Alexia wraps her arms around both of you, kisses being placed on her cheeks by both of her moms.

To say the fans and media were exploding was an understatement.

“Alexia, they need for media.”

Alexia settles herself at the table in front of all the press, waiting for the questions to come.

“Hola, Alexia. Great game today.”

“Thank you.”

After a couple of questions about the match, a little kid is seen throwing themselves onto Alexia.

“Mamá!”

A second person is seen chasing after the child.

“Sorry, sorry. She’s gotten fast.”

You run in, trying to grab Rosa from your wife, who is wriggling to make her harder to hold.

“You can leave her here.”

“You sure?”

She nods so you give them both a kiss on the head and walk out the room.

“Sorry about that.”

“Who do we have here? If you don’t mind us asking.”

“Bebé can you tell them your name?”

“Soy Rosa Putellas.”

The room let out a collective ‘aww’.

“So-so she’s your daughter?” A reporter stutters, stunned by the little girl.

“Yes.”

“And Messi’s?”

“Yes.”

The room full reporters burst, questions being asked over the others. Alexia just stands up, walking out of the room.

“I think you broke them.” Is the first thing you say when she walks into the locker room.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Makes it fun.”

[asapjens]

messi or ronaldo? HANNI!

NEW JEANS: hanni pham x soccer player!reader

SYNOPSIS: hanni wasn’t a sporty person but she’ll do anything to gain the attention of her hype girl

CATTEGORY: fluff

WORD COUNT: 235

WARNINGS: soccer needs its own warning . y’all i’m so scared of sports. hanni talking to the other members about you, the other members trying to give hanni some advice, you being flirty.

Hanni’s crush on you wasn’t a secret. Everyone seemed to noticed, and talk about it. Her friends were kinda tired of Hanni drooling over you.

You couldn't do anything without Hanni's acclaim. At first, the girls thought it was cute, her friend had a crush on a girl from the soccer team.

But as the days passed, Hanni kept saying how much she liked you, but exclaimed that she was too shy to make a move.

So Minji suggested something. “Why don't try something she's into” Hanni turned to her, confused. “I mean why don't you try talking to her about something you both like!” Exclaimed the brunette.

“That's a good idea,” said Danielle while eating some grapes. “What do you guys have in common?” asked Haerin stealing some grapes from Danielle.

“You both like music,” Said Hyein. “But everyone likes music that's not gonna make her want to go out with me!” A very stressful Hanni said.

“What else do you guys have in common?” Asked Haerin. “Soccer!” The table felt silent looking at Hanni with wide eyes.

“You're not athletic,” Said Hyein, confused. “But she loves soccer!. That's it! I'm gonna enlist for the tryouts” exclaimed happily the girl.

“That's not what we meant!” Danielle screamed. But Hanni was already too far from the table, running towards the soccer field.

After being through hell (running some yards). Hanni fell to the ground. “I'm dying,” Said Hanni while facing the grass.

“Hey, are you okay?” An adorable voice followed by a mesmerizing laugh asked Hanni. The black-haired looked up from the ground and met with the prettiest girl in the world. You.

She nodded. “I just need 5”. The little laugh made a comeback. “Well you're gonna need to get used to this if you want to make it to the team,” You said with a smile.

“Yeah, about that, I think soccer isn't really my thing,” Hanni said pulling herself up. You giggled and offered her a hand.

Shyly, Hanni took your hand and smiled at you. “Then why are you here?” you asked softly.

“I- I actually wanted an excuse to talk to you” Hanni admitted forcing her vision anywhere but you.

You smirked at the words. “Really?” you bit your lip. “It kinda worked,” you said chuckling. “What?” Hanni turned her gaze at you, her cheeks turning pink at the statement.

“A cute girl who's not in sporty clothes, trying to take a nap on the field does catch my attention,” you said, smirking at Hanni.

“That's totally my type” you winked at the very flustered girl.

“I still have some training to do but let's hang out sometime,” Hanni’s crush said. Turning her back to her and started to run back with the rest of the team.

Well, that was easier than Hanni’s thought!

[wavypotatochips]

Tatos Masterlist ッ !

I will mainly write about futebol players and CentralCee.

Futebol players I prefer to write about are:

Neymar Jr.

Mbappe

Cristiano Ronaldo

However I am open to other players! It’s just easier for me to write when I know the players personality c’:

My Wattpad account is WavyPotatoChips

𝘾𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙧 𝙪𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙙.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥

[jdbellingham]

LIGHT SWITCH

pairing : jude bellingham x reader

requests are open!!

word count: 472 (this is short lol)

summary: after being stood up time and time again, you finally give up on Jude.

warnings: cussing, angst

“IM SICK OF us being on and off like a fucking light switch!” She yelled, throwing her hands down. She gazed into Jude’s dark brown eyes which mirrored her own, large glistening pools about to overfill with tears. She could almost make out her own reflection in them, knowing that he could probably make himself out in hers.

“I’m sorry,” Jude replied, his voice quivering. Like a crackling fire, his voice was on the verge of fading into a faint whisper. His fingers clenched tightly into balled fists, fingernails digging crescent shaped wounds into his palm.

He watched as the girl he had loved since 12th year stared at his hands, then subconsciously tucked them behind his back. Flexing them to make sure there was still circulation.

“Jude I don’t want to do this,” She said, this time her voice slower and softer, comparatively gentle to the harsh words she had spoke just a few moments before. “But I have to, because I don’t want you to think that leaving me in front of restaurants and theatres time after time again, alone- is okay. And-”

“Y/n please,” Jude interrupted, his entire being was pleading, he would’ve dropped to his knees if she wanted him to. “I have loved you since i was 17, and I know at times I seem like a complete idiot, and I know for a fact I don’t deserve you. But I love you, Y/n L/n. I love you. And I’ll be damn stupid to let you leave. You are wonderful, and you are astoundingly smart,you are everything any man wants, and could ask for. But most of all, you are you. You are the girl who inspires me to change, you are the girl who I look forward to seeing every second of the day, and you are the person who not only makes people their best selves, you are the person who makes me, me. Y/n please just stay, I’ll make everything up to you, I’ll-”

This time it was Y/n who interrupted Jude, she had-had enough. She couldn’t take anymore before she would cave. One more word of his monologue and she would’ve folded before him and she’d have been the one begging for forgiveness.

“Jude,” Y/n began, and his sweet doe eyes lit up with hope,

“No,”

The light in his eyes vanished and the sound of his breath hitching filled the silence.

“Goodbye, Jude,” She said, the tears which she had held at bay for so long finally slipping down her face, and slowly but quite noticeably the tears multiplied. One tear became another, and suddenly her cheeks were streaked with warm salty drops. She quickly realized, and wiped what she could off, before whipping around and beginning to walk away.

And as much as she hated admitting it, she had hoped Jude would’ve stopped her.

do you guys want pt 2? feel free to send me suggestions!!

note: idk what this trash is, and ik i didn’t put it on the list of upcoming fics but I need to post smth bc my other fic is giving me writers block. anyway yeah don’t expect short stuff like this very often :)

TAKING REQUESTS!!!

[wilwheaton]

Over the weekend, as events unfolded chaotically across Israel, it was difficult to assess what was real and what wasn’t. That has arguably gotten even harder amid the fallout, both in terms of assessing what exactly happened during horrific attacks on Israeli civilians and on Israel’s response, which has involved the cutting of food, water, and electricity from Gaza’s two million residents. Per a Wired report from Monday, “Rather than being shown verified and fact-checked information, X users were presented with video game footage passed off as footage of a Hamas attack and images of firework celebrations in Algeria presented as Israeli strikes on Hamas. There were faked pictures of soccer superstar Ronaldo holding the Palestinian flag, while a three-year-old video from the Syrian civil war [was] repurposed to look like it was taken this weekend.” Twitter has gotten slower and worse at removing disinformation before it spreads. And users willing to spend $8 a month for a blue check can boost—and, in some cases, monetize—the spread of misinformation. All told, the social network demonstrated a singular ability to take a complex, fast-moving situation and make it more difficult to comprehend. This is a disaster for Twitter, which had previously demonstrated an ability to be indispensable during fast-moving crises. Changes made by Musk to the platform—from the gutting of teams devoted to trust and safety, to the removal of “legacy” blue checks for reporters, even to the recent removal of headlines from links—have all made it more difficult to ascertain if what you are seeing in the ruins of your Twitter feed is real or fake, making it much easier to spread misinformation. For over a year, we’ve heard various reports of Twitter’s demise. Some have been hyperbolic; many have failed to appreciate how resilient the the service was before Musk’s arrival. It’s likely that some facsimile of Twitter will exist, far into the future. But a seismic shift in how the platform is perceived has occurred. If it isn’t good for breaking news, then what good is it? Perhaps it’s not a force for good at all.

The Week Twitter Went Evil

This is all by design. This is all intentional. Elon Musk is an antisemitic white supremacist who wants to sow as much chaos as possible. He’s a younger, slightly less vulgar Trump. Everything he’s done since he took over Twitter has been in service of ruining its utility for real communication, instantaneous delivery of vital information, while promoting neonazis, antisemitism, and right wing disinformation.

Elon Musk presents an existential threat to humanity. Innocent people are dying, and will continue to suffer and die, as a direct result of his actions.

[adascore]

THE GOLDEN WAR

pairings: alexia putellas x lyonnais!reader

warnings: swearing. for culers the ‘22 uwcl final ig. jona is kinda mean in this.

author’s note: this is the same reader from my ‘one for the money, two for the show’ fic of the lionesses!captain. reader is basically ada hegerberg lolsies :) will be turned into a series.

masterlist

•••••

Turin, Italy - May, 2022

''The final has been dubbed as a duel between you and Alexia Putellas, do you experience it as that?''

The Lyon captain fought the urge to roll her eyes at the question, despite having expected it. ''It is a final between Barcelona and Lyon, nothing more than that.'' She answered, diplomatically- the way they had rehearsed it.

''Lyon is the underdog coming into this final- FC Barcelona has been unbeatable so far. What do you need to do in order to beat them tomorrow?'' Another reporter asked, a pen ready in his hand to take notes.

There was a slight change in her expression as the question left his lips, the man succeeding in poking through her stoic expression. ''Well, we have never lost to Barcelona- I don't know if you remember 3 years ago or even last year,''

Lyon had comfortably beaten the Spanish club in 2019. In that Champions League Final, Y/N had become the first player to score a hattrick in a UWCL final. Their last meeting had been in 2021, in the pre-season, where Lyon had won 3-2, the Lyon captain again putting one in the net.

''We have won this competition many times. There was football before Barcelona, and it was being played by us.''

Her last sentence of the quote had struck a nerve with the Barça captain.

''She acts like she has already won the whole thing.'' Alexia remarked as she read a transcript of the press conference.

Patri and Mapi glanced at one another, a knowing look in their eyes. ''Technically, there is nothing wrong about what she said, Ale. How many times has she won this competition now? 6? 7?'' The defender said, not having a problem with the opposition's words.

''She's just pissed that everyone is talking about us now.'' She ignored Mapi, continuing berating her opponent.

The rivalry between the captains of the two top teams had been something made up by the media, seeking a female counterpart to the famed Ronaldo-Messi rivalry. Both Alexia and Y/N led Europe's premier clubs, won the Champions League, captained their national teams, and earned the Ballon d'Or. This fueled incessant comparisons.

Alexia and Y/N hadn't given it much thought at first. There were also many differences between them; Alexia is a midfielder, while Y/N is a striker. Despite their similar ages, their careers took diverse paths. Alexia remained in the Spanish league, while Y/N gained experience across various countries.

Over time, an unexpected shift occurred. They began caring about each other's achievements. Yet, they knew the comparison wasn't fair.

Despite being younger, Y/N dominated women's football for longer, winning the Champions League seven times – twice with Wolfsburg and five times with Lyon. In contrast, Alexia secured one with Barcelona. Neither had won anything major with their national teams, though she had come close with England a few times. Furthermore, on the accolades side of things, Y/N led with a repertoire that most players could only dream of.

For a long time, it hadn't bothered Alexia. She had watched in admiration as the younger player became the first recipient of the Ballon d'Or, a huge step in women's football. Y/N's advocacy for the sport also didn't escape the Spanish player.

However, her admiration had turned into envy.

The turning point came in the 2019 final against Lyon. She had observed the way the English striker had celebrated with her entire team- how the Lyon squad immediately ran to her once the whistle blew and how Y/N bathed in all the (rightly deserved) glory. Alexia wanted that for herself. For years, Y/N had been the nail in Barcelona's coffin, scoring the goals that made sure they couldn't continue in the competition- in the captain's opinion, the striker had made a joke of her team for years, even if she didn't meant to do that.

Their interactions over the years were limited to polite handshakes before or after matches. Occasional encounters outside the pitch were rare and brief, seldom extending beyond a few sentences.

Alexia's surprise peaked when Y/N congratulated her on winning the Ballon d'Or through both private and public Instagram messages. Despite her reservations about comparisons and rivalry, receiving praise from someone she admired as one of the best in the game left Alexia with a positive feeling.

''No, I think she's just not a fan of being referred to as an underdog.'' Patri defended the Lyon striker.

This explanation didn't sit well with Alexia, evident from the displeasure on her face. ''Whatever,'' she retorted, looking forward to settling matters on the field that Saturday.

Saturday, May 21, 2022

Excitement, adrenaline, nerves, and tension permeated the tunnel of Juventus Stadium as Alexia, tightly gripping her pennant, stood at the front of her lined-up team, awaiting the opposing captain.

The sudden hush among the Barcelona team signaled the arrival of their counterpart. Turning around, Alexia frowned at her teammates' fascination with the approaching striker.

This is not the time to be fangirling, she thought to herself, as she saw most of her players' eyes following the striker's figure.

As the two top players faced each other, uncertainty lingered about whether they should exchange greetings. Y/N broke the silence, deciding to offer some acknowledgment. ''Hey, you alright?'' Her charming English accent filled the air.

''Yeah, and you?'' Alexia almost cringed at her own quick response, not giving her brain time to think.

''I‘ll see in about 90 minutes.'' The younger one grinned.

I'll wipe that smirk off your fucking face, Alexia said in her mind, not a fan of the confidence the striker was oozing.

Ten minutes later, the referee blew the whistle, signaling the start of the highly-anticipated final.

Lyon applied intense pressure right from the start, managing to create two goal-scoring opportunities within the first three minutes of the match.

However, the audience were offered their first initial glimpse of the rivalry in the 6th minute of the game.

Y/N positioned herself strategically, eyes fixed on her teammate readying a precise pass to her. The ball zipped across the pitch, and in a heartbeat, both Y/N and Alexia were locked onto winning it for themselves.

The striker, a master of timing, surged forward. Simultaneously, the midfielder closed in on the target. The collision was inevitable.

Both players fell with a thud, groaning at the contact with the ground. Despite the force of the clash, they both showed resilience as they wanted to use the momentum to their advantage.

They were momentarily entangled, fighting for control of the ball. It was a brief display of the rivalry that had brewed between them.

Y/N rose swiftly from the turf, eyes filled with determination. The collision had only fueled her competitive fire. With the ball firmly at her feet, she accelerated away from the mess, leaving Alexia behind.

The crowd erupted in gasps and cheers as Y/N, now in open space, scanned the field. Seizing the opportunity, she unleashed a powerful strike from well outside the box.

Time seemed to slow as the ball sailed towards the goal. Panos's desperate dive was in vain as the ball found the back of the net. The roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium, a symphony of cheers and applause for a goal that showcased the skills and spirit of the Lyon captain.

A fleeting scowl crossed Alexia's face, frustrated at the missed opportunity.

Y/N turned on her heels as the net rippled, ready to embrace her teammates who were rushing to her.

''Vamos!'' She roared, the Spanish word escaping her lips like a battle cry.

Yet, she found herself face-to-face not with the familiar sight of Lyon jerseys but with the intensity of Alexia's determined gaze.

Her expression froze for a quick second, confusion adorning her features. Y/N's eyes widened in realization, and for a brief instant, the two captains locked eyes in an unspoken exchange.

The celebration continued around them, teammates engulfing Y/N as they screamed with delight at their captain's prolific opener. The air was filled with jubilation, but within the chaos, the tension lingered between the two captains, adding an intriguing layer to the unfolding drama on the pitch.

The match unfolded further, Barcelona grabbing a few opportunities of their own, but not being clinical enough to score an equalizer. The Spanish squad remained calm, showing no signs of panic in their play, despite being behind.

Selma and Melvine played a great one-two with each other, and the young defender shot a beautiful cross towards the box. Anticipating the trajectory of the ball, Y/N skillfully pulled away from Leon, who undoubtedly had the impossible task of marking the striker.

The ball connected with Y/N's forehead, falling perfectly into the mesh. The scoreboard illuminated with Lyon 2, Barcelona 0. The narrative had shifted as the favorites stomped the ground in frustration, while the ''underdogs'' celebrated another goal from their captain.

The first half flew by. Y/N managed to assist Catarina to make it 3-0, but Alexia found the back of the net to get one back.

3-1.

The second half saw more scoring opportunities for Barcelona, but no one managed to finish the job.

After contact with Martens, Griedge cited experiencing a cramp and asked for treatment- a request that the Barcelona side was not having. Y/N, understanding the frustration of time-wasting, especially when behind in a match, stood aside.

However, the Lyon captain didn't appreciate the scolding she received from the opposition's coach. ''Tell your player to stop the comedy, what a shit job!'' Jonatan exclaimed to the English captain, who observed the scene from the sideline.

Y/N didn't budge, paying him no attention, knowing it was all tactics. She gave an unimpressed look toward the referee, who had been observing the one-sided interaction.

The official ran up to them, pulling a yellow card from her pocket and holding it in front of the manager. ''Step back, please. Don't talk to the opposition.'' she instructed him.

The match eventually resumed. In extra time, Paredes almost managed to pull off a header, but it went flying over the post.

In the last minute of the game, Y/N teamed up with Eugénie to score a last-minute beauty, but the volley slammed against the post.

The piercing sound of the referee's whistle resonated through the stadium, marking the conclusion of the final. Lyon emerged triumphant for a record-extending 8th time.

Overwhelmed by her own emotions, Y/N fell to the ground as the whistle echoed in her ears. It didn't take too long for her teammates to rush up to her, colliding in a chaos of hugs, kisses, and jubilant shouts.

They had done it again, proving once more why all the records were tied to their name.

''Y/N, you're a fucking legend!'' Lindsey yelled in her ear, kissing her cheek multiple times.

As her teammates slowly got up from their celebratory cuddle with the ground, they formed a protective circle around their captain. Hands reached out to help her rise from the grass, and she found herself enveloped in a symphony of gratitude.

Eventually, she shook off her glorious daze, a wide grin etched on her face.

Y/N turned her attention to the defeated Barcelona players, spread out across the field with tears and disappointment staining their cheeks. She approached them, offering a helping hand to those still on the ground and sharing comforting words. Acknowledging the effort they had brought, she assured them that they gave her team a greater fight than the scoreline implied.

Before the Lyon squad embarked on their victory lap to greet the traveling supporters, Y/N's gaze fell on a heartbreaking scene. Across the field, the Spanish captain, Alexia, was cradled in a comforting embrace by a Barcelona staff member as tears streamed down her face.

Y/N hesitated, caught in a ''should I or shouldn't I'' moment with herself.

She chose to make an attempt to resolve whatever tension had built up between them.

Tears glistened on Alexia's cheeks, a testament to the intensity of the match and the dreams left unfulfilled. The Barcelona staff member, offering solace in the face of defeat, glanced up as Y/N approached, and let go of her.

''Alexia,'' Y/N greeted her softly, putting her arm around the Spaniard, ''thank you for the great battle.'' She hadn't prepared what to say, because what do you say against someone you feel like you are supposed to hate? What do you say against someone you've been constantly compared to for over a year?

To the striker's surprise, Alexia reciprocated, feeling an arm on her lower-back. ''Congratulations, you deserved the win. You played phenomenal.'' The midfielder told her, a forced yet genuine small smile making a way onto her face.

''Don't let this hurt you. You are literally one of the best players I have played against- your team is amazing. Use this, like in 2019.'' Y/N advised her, not particularly caring if the opposing player would take it or not.

''We will. I hope we can play many more finals. You make me- you make us grow.'' Alexia stuttered.

Y/N nodded. ''I hope so too. It's been fascinating to see the growth you guys have made these last years.''

The stadium now bore witness to a quieter exchange between the two captains. Almost every camera lens and watchful eye fixated on them.

As Y/N and Alexia exchanged words of mutual respect, their moment of shared understanding was abruptly disrupted by the Barcelona coach.

''Congratulations on the win, Y/N.'' He acknowledged briskly, his gaze quickly turning toward Alexia. His extended hand to her seemed more like a formality, but Y/N accepted it.

Almost forcibly, he placed a hand on Alexia's shoulder, a non-verbal cue that spoke volumes. ''Come on.'' He declared, his tone leaving little room for negotiation and they were off to wherever he needed her to be.

Alexia casted an immediate glance back at Y/N, a mix of emotions played across her face- gratitude for the moment, and frustration at its abrupt end. She hadn't responded to her words yet.

As the Spaniard was led away, Y/N's eyes lingered on the departing figure, a tinge of melancholy in her gaze.

The brief encounter had sparked a momentary connection- a bridge attempting to break through the perceived rivalry and show praise for a strong opponent. However, Jonatan's swift intervention acted like a pair of scissors, cutting through the threads that held that connection.

In Y/N's mind, Alexia had seemed appreciative of the opportunity to have a genuine conversation. She figured there must have been a good reason for her to have been pulled away like that, especially by the head coach.

The Barcelona captain had reacted with a hint of irritation when her coach suggested to the Lyon player to remove her arm from Alexia's shoulder. She tried asking Jonatan why he had coaxed her away, but she didn't receive a proper answer.

The whole thing had left a bitter taste in her mouth. The potential for a more extended, sincere exchange was cut short, leaving Alexia with lingering frustration. There was a desire to understand Y/N beyond the competition, but it was cut short.

She hoped her last glance had worked as a silent acknowledgment of what could have been.

[gabigabigabby]

cristiano's daughter | j. félix

joão félix x ronaldo!footballer!reader

synopsis: joão steals your celebration as his way of telling you that goal was yours

a/n: plot is set during the euro qualifier game against luxembourg in march where he did that celebration with his arms crossed (ifykyk). joão is barça player bc it's perfect for this plot and y/n is barça femeni player. again, perfect for the plot. ALSO THANK YOU FOR 700++ FOLLOWERS, ik it's bee a while since i was on here but i really do appreciate all the love you give on my works 🥹🥹 so enjoy this one!

content/warnings: fluffy as hell, y/n taking a promise extremely seriously, dialogue in portuguese and spanish, eva and mateo being the cutest twin siblings ever, not proofread, lmk if i missed anything! 💫

🎵 streaming: infrunami - steve lacy

—

"papá nos estamos mirando. devuélvenos el saludo." gio begins talking, but you were in your football la-la-land.

i could've done a bicycle kick yesterday, you thought. it could've been my match.

don't you just love it? being in your own thoughts for the 500th time today. sense the sarcasm? "y/n," gio catches your attention, snapping you out of your head. "joão te busca, cariño." [dad is looking for us, wave back. joão is looking for you, sweetheart.]

your eyes run all over the pitch before landing on the squad, joão the second to last guy in the line-up. he sends you a wave, grinning to himself when he sees you facing him. he'd never know if you were making eye contact or not; he was just happy you were there. you wave back at him, not even bothering to hide your smile from your stepmother.

"estoy feliz de que estés feliz. y tienes suerte porque es un chico lindo," gio winks before you both share a laugh; something you missed sharing with georgina. because of your tight schedule and the fact that you play football in spain and don't live in riyadh with your parents and siblings, you'd missed out every single important thing that's happened in the ronaldo house. eva and mateo's sixth birthday, alana's first day of school, bella's first steps, junior joining the al-nassr academy. everything. "¿sabes lo que significa? bebés lindos." [i'm happy you're happy. and you're lucky because he's a cute boy. and you know what that means? cute babies.]

"mamá!" you try to stop gio from going any further. because babies? aren't you too young to be thinking about children right now? your career at barcelona had only begun to skyrocket, and joão had only recently began his season stint at the club. children and settling down should be the last thing on both your minds. although every now and then, you can't help but think about it. would you and joão last long enough for children of your own in the future? "i'm only 22." you mutter under your breath, soft enough for gio to completely miss it.

the referee's whistle snaps you out of your own thoughts — a place you'd often find yourself in when you're out of the pitch. you were worried about the fact that joão barely got to feel the ball. especially after he promised you he'd give you a strike tonight.

"no, i promise," his voice lingers around you from hours ago. "i'll make sure i get the ball, and it's yours, querida. eu prometo." [i promise]

well, he promised — and promises stick with you like gorilla glue. even at the ripe old age of 22, you still believe in pinky promises the way georgina still believes in romance movies. that's besides the point.

it was up till the point after your dad was awarded a penalty. he took it, it went in, your dad is a worldwide legend, blah blah blah. you knew it was bound to happen everytime portugal play. the game was inching up to 14 minutes as your legs begin to bounce nervously. what made it worse was that mateo was on your lap when it happened.

"querida, why are your legs shaking?" mateo's neck cranes to look at you. all you could give him was a weak smile.

"nothing, 'zinho. just nervous for papai like all of us, né?" you answer, hoping mateo will take it and leave it alone.

"you're nervous for joão." if there's one thing you could curse about mateo, it's how close he is to you, even though you no longer live with your family. on his day, mateo would feel lonely — even though he's a twin — and ask gio to facetime you. most of the time, he'd catch you at the right time; driving back home from training, going out for lunch with joão on an off day. and sometimes you wouldn't pick up, occupied with training for the upcoming game that week.

mateo would never fail to call you at least twice a month, understanding how tight your schedule is and that he has to leave you alone sometimes, afraid you'd be exhausted after a long day of training. sometimes you'd give him a call too, missing your queridinho on your day.

"não somos todos?" you nervously chuckle, your hands were resting on mateo's lap, its fingers slowly picking at your cuticles. [aren't we all?]

"si, but you're stressed," mateo pouts. "joão told me you made him promise to score tonight. and you know what, y/n? i hope he scores too." he gives you his typical mateo smile; the absolute sweetest thing you could ever see.

not even a mere few seconds later, a cross from bernardo comes in. you try to anticipate which portugal boy it'd reach. you released a breath you didn't realise you were holding when you see the ball making immediate contact with joão's head, as he nicks the ball in past the luxembourg goalkeeper.

the crowd was anticlimactic, though, you'd have to say. there is a totally valid reason for it. is joão offside or not? the referee blows his whistle, giving the goal to portugal as they now lead the game 2-0. you carefully picked mateo up as you stand, the boy's arms in the air as he celebrates the allowed goal from his hermano. you watch as joão turns to the grandstand your family is situated at.

you can only assume he's looking at you at that point, but gio turns to face you and mateo to state the obvious. "el te esta mirando!" gio screams in a whispery manner. you'd only assumed that, but you were wearing the white portugal away kit, allowing joão to identify you clear as day from the pitch compared to the rest of your family who were clad in black winter coats. you agree, the weather is a bit nippy in luxembourg.

joão looks you dead in the eye — or you assume — and crosses his arms. you immediately realise what it meant, smiling to yourself as your dad, bruno and bernardo begin to crowd him and give him words of congratulations on the smooth yet second nature goal of his.

you wait till after the game, where they defeat luxembourg 6-0 to regroup with joão and cristiano. cris, before anything, would engulf gio and bella first, giving joão full leeway to reach for you first. "did you see?!" the taste of excitement is still sweet and prominent on joão's tongue when he speaks.

"i saw! my celebration at barça. thief." you joke, pushing a fist into his bicep playfully.

"amo-te, linda. obrigado por estar aqui." joão smiles, not hesitating to squish your face into his chest. [i love you beautiful, thank you for being here]

"eu vim buscar o papai, mas tudo bem." you shrug jokingly before finding yourself in your papai's arms and listening to him thank you for coming to a portugal game — an away game, no less. [i came for dad, but okay]

[pedrithink]

star ✩ jude bellingham

request: Hii!! If i may request a ronaldo!Reader x Bellingham/Mbappé socmed au fic? Thank you!!

face claim: tatiana

ynusername

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ynusername day with mom :)

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ynusername i loveeeee u madrid

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mykonos, greece

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judebellingham this place is… ❤️‍🔥

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judebellingham greece nights

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[luvneymar]

# PRINCESS TREATMENT! — footballers

— SUMMARY: you show off the princess treatment you get from your footballer boyfriend! (part 2!)

CONTENT: fluff, footballers being simps, light jealously, light sensuality, sexual themes in messi’s drabble

PARINGS: young!messi x reader, young!christiano, barça!neymar x reader, jude bellingham x reader

NOTE: feel free to change anything about the dress or the jewellery 💕

NEYMAR JUNIOR — credit card!

“Angel, o que você está olhando?” Neymar kissed your forehead before plopping down beside you sliding his hand to your waist. You took a sip from your red wine before answering him “Online Shopping.” [What are you looking at?]

You were currently shopping on Van Cleef & Arpels for the trending Vintage Alhambra set, your friend had showed it & you couldn’t help but take and interest in it.

“Hmm, do you like it?” Neymar asked kissing down your neck till he reached your collarbone, you curl your hand around his head as he nipped at your vanilla scented soft skin. “Yeah it’s beautiful. I prefer it in red though.”

You took another sip of your wine as you placed the last item of the set in the cart inching the total amount above 60,000. You took a deep sigh placing your wine cup onto the coffee table in-front of you.

“Something wrong princess?” Neymar asks slightly concerned with the look on your face, you shook your head slowly tapping the arm-rest of the couch with your nails before pulling his head onto your lap with his hair scratching against your exposed thighs.

“Nothing, I just feel bad spending your money.” You muttered out, not used to living such a lavish lifestyle to this degree & having everything at your fingertips was a constant battle with your impulse control issues.

He sat up slowly looking deeply into your eyes, he had a serious look on his face but all you could see was love and affection seeping from his pores every second he stared into your eyes.

“My love, what does life mean for me if I can’t spend money on the woman I love? My money is your money & your money is your money.” Hearing that shut down any type of insecure thoughts still lingering in your mind.

As your eyes focus’s on his he grabbed the back of your neck moving aside any stray hair and pulled you in for a soft kiss. Neymar smiled into the kiss as he can taste your strawberry chapstick on his tongue.

You pull away from the kiss staring at your boyfriend who just sat in front of you with a cocky look on his face wiping away the saliva from his lips as he later back down hands behind his head your exposed lap.

“Buy anything you’d like love, my money is for you & you only.”

CRISTIANO RONALDO — expensive jewelry!

“Which one would you like beautiful? Pick anything you like.” Cristiano whispered into your ear as you skimmed the different glass boxes filled with 24k+ different types of diamonds, golds & other expensive stones.

He had to practically beg you to go out with him today as you were feeling a little down lately but he knew you’d like what you were looking at. “Relax baby I’ll choose one.” You giggled walking to the other side of the boutique to look at the emerald stones.

You weren’t a big fan of dark swampy colours of greens but something about emerald jewels just caught your eye in a way other gems couldn’t; except diamonds of course. Apart from Cristiano; Diamonds were your 1 true love.

“Excuse me how much is—” Just as you were going to ask the salesman the price of the necklace + earrings set you just found Cris had interrupted you placing his hand over your mouth. “Hi can you grab this for us please? Thank you so much.”

As the jeweller prepared the necklace Ronaldo had pulled you into a secluded area of the store placing a finger over his mouth signalling you to be quiet. “Love, don’t ask for the price when you’re out with me. Ever. If you’re with me just ask for what you want.”

“Okay, Mr. Ronaldo.” You pulled him by the tie for a quick kiss where he wrapped his arms around your waist inching his hand down towards your ass giving it a slight squeeze.

You both pulled away walking back to the salesman with his hand still on your ass who was calling your names. “Mr. Ronaldo, this is a 24 carat, hand crafted, €310,000 necklace. All the diamonds here are—”

“I know you’re just doing your job but I’m sure my girlfriend here doesn’t care about all the statistics. Please box it for her & send me the bill.” Cristiano cut the salesman off once he noticed you weren’t paying 1 bit of attention to the details of the necklace + earring’s history.

“Right away.” The jeweller smiled before walking away to get the actual product out the back to begin packaging it. Once he walked away you turned to Cris and pulled him in for a kiss cupping his face.

Once you both pulled away he wiped away some dust from your face with his thumb while staring into your eyes as if he had been hypnotized by you. “What was that for?”

“You don’t like my kisses anymore?” You questioned pulling him to whisper in his ear, he chuckled lowly rubbing circles on your ass.

“No, not that. You rarely kiss me in public if it isn’t a secluded area.” You looked up at him with your (colour) doe eyes as you watched him swallow nervously loosening his tie.

“Well you just bought me €300,000 diamond necklaces. It’s your reward.” Dragging your finger down his chest & looking up at him with your eyes filled with a look of seduction & affection.

“If spoiling my lover gets me rewards like this you can pick out anything you like in the store. We won’t leave till your satisfied.”

JUDE BELLINGHAM — shoe strap!

“Darling are you finish yet? We have to leave soon.” Jude walks into your shared bedroom & watches you finish the final touches of your make up dress still unzipped and different pairs of heels spread around the room.

“Sorry baby, I was having trouble zipping up my dress then I couldn’t pick between a few heels.” Seeing him walk into the room made you go faster than you already were. Feeling his hands on your shoulders calmed you down.

“Don’t stress, I’ll help you.” He motioned you to sit up from the ottoman, feeling his cold hands against your exposed warm back sent electric waves down your spine giving you goosebumps all over your arms.

As Jude’s hands zipped up your dress you stared him through the mirror watching his every move. Once he was done he spun you around and kissed your forehead placing his on-top of yours.

You both stayed in that position for a while before he pulled away and made his way towards your shared walk-in closet coming back your YSL heels. “Oh not those they’re soooo hard to walk in.”

You complained walking towards the bed to pick up a different pair of shoes. He placed the shoe box beside you taking the pair of Red Bottoms and flinging them somewhere around the room. “You look stunning in them, if your feet start to hurt I’ll carry you. Okay?”

“…Okay” You responded sticking out your foot so Jude could put on the first shoe, you felt like Cinderella when she lost her glass shoe & the prince came to personally return it to her.

“Stand up baby.” Jude helped you stand up from the bed as if you were made of glass holding your waist as he hoisted you up.

Jude bent down to adjust the strap of your heel around your ankle, once he was done he lifted your foot to kiss the side of your ankle before going to the other one.

As he did the same to your left foot he hadn’t notice your phone recording him as he looked back and saw you recording a tiktok through the mirror behind you. “Enjoying showing me off?”

You giggled pulling your foot away once he was done he placed your foot on the ground and stood back up, you placed your phone in your purse and turned around to place it on the bed putting in your lip-gloss & power in your bag.

As you put the rest of your items in your bag you felt Jude’s hands slip around your waist pulling you closer towards his body, you hadn’t thought anything of it until you felt something firm against your ass.

“Is that what I think it is?” You turned around to face him looking into his brown eyes which was filled lust & affection. He took your hand and tried to place it on his hard-on. Just for you to pull away.

“Uh huh, We’re going to this dinner Mr.” You pulled away and walked away towards the hallway with Jude jogging right behind you

“Can we at-least leave halfway?” He asked stopping you by grabbing onto your hand intertwining your fingers with his. “Maybe.”

“God you drive me absolutely insane baby.”

LIONEL MESSI — shopping spree!

“Sweetheart are you done yet?” Leo asked from outside the dressing room where you were currently trying on your 7th dress from the store.

You had asked to spend the day with him & when he decided to go to a shopping centre you knew were going to walk out of their a few thousand dollars poorer.

Lionel loved spending money on you as he saw how happy you looked dressing up for different events you both attended like dates, galas, award shows, games & everything else between the lines.

“Yeah I just need help with the zipper!” You opened the door of the change room and came out a in a tight black dress decorated in gold chains, you fell in-love with the dress the moment you saw lily were it the MET GALA & Leo just had to get it for you.

As you spun looking at yourself in mirror enjoying the dress Leo couldn’t help but stare at you in awe almost dropping all the shopping bags in his hands along with the other dressed over his shoulder. “God you look—”

“Stunning? Sexy? I know. All thanks to you baby. And my parents of course.” You walked towards him pulling him in for a long passionate kiss, you pulled away with a thin line of saliva connecting you two.

You looked around to see if any of the workers were around before pulling him in once again kissing him deeply as you pushed your tongue between his lips. His teammates and friends had always teased him for being pussy whipped & a simp for you.

He had always denied it thinking he was just treating you the way a boyfriend with his status & fame should but whenever you pulled him in for a kiss the way you just did he knew they were right.

“Leo baby you dropped my bags.” You whispered as you pulled away just enough for your lips to not be touching, you pulled away snickering at him before entering the change room once again to try on another dress

“Last one okay baby!” You shouted as you threw the dress over the door onto Leo’s head, he placed the bags and dresses onto the couch he was sitting and sat up sneaking into the change room along with you.

“Leo what are you—!” He slammed the door shut and pulled your body closer towards him, you just took off the previous dress so you were still in your undergarments.

“You cant be in here! What if an employee see you?” You panicked unaware of him unhooking your lacy bra as he kissed your neck hands rubbing down your waist all the way to your hips.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fast.” He whispered pulling off your bra covering your breasts with his hands as he stared at you in the mirror. “You’re too much!” You laughed turning around to face your boyfriend.

The moment you turned around he spun you back around so you could see yourself in the mirror. “You can milk me of every penny I own I don’t care, please just let me fuck you right now. I need it so badly you don’t even know.”

NOTE: i’m so sorry my tumblr is acting up rn idk if it’s showing on the tags or anything hopefully it’ll fix itself in a few! 🤍