#cristiano ronaldo fanfic

[wavypotatochips]

Hey, I have a request for a Cristiano Ronaldo imagine / one shot.

Could you write one about y/n always supporting Cristiano and always being at his matches and everyone knows they’re best friends but they’re actually dating and just haven’t told anyone yet but there are rumors that they are and Cristiano reveals that y/n and him are dating in an interview when he gets asked about the rumors. I hope you can do that, I’d really appreciate it.

Ly Caya

More Than Just A Friend | Cristiano Ronaldo

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Cristiano Ronaldo x Female Reader

Word Count : 995

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: Sooo Sorry for the long wait!!!! ya girl was going through it but its all good now!! c': Thank you so much for requesting!! I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Requests are currently closed as I am catching up. mwah mwah love ya! ♥

As the vibrant stadium lights illuminate the field, you find yourself amidst a sea of cheering fans, eagerly awaiting the start of yet another exhilarating match. You are here, faithfully supporting Cristiano Ronaldo, your boyfriend, in every game. The public eye perceives you both as best friends, unaware of the deep romantic connection you share. Together, you have decided to keep your relationship a secret until Cristiano feels the time is right to disclose it, considering his status as an iconic figure in the world of football.

Clad in Cristiano's team colors, you stand near the front row of the stadium, surrounded by a sea of passionate supporters. Your heart swells with pride and anticipation, the electric atmosphere heightening your senses. As the players take their positions on the field, a wave of excitement ripples through the crowd, reaching its crescendo as Cristiano's name echoes through the stands.

You catch a glimpse of Cristiano as he walks onto the pitch, his face a mask of focus and determination. The roar of the crowd intensifies, their chants reverberating in your ears. With each passing second, your heart beats faster, mirroring the pulse of the game about to unfold.

Cristiano's team plays with unmatched skill and unwavering determination, their every move a testament to their years of practice and teamwork. Your eyes remain fixed on Cristiano as he weaves through defenders, his agility and speed leaving everyone in awe. The stadium erupts in a symphony of cheers as he scores a breathtaking goal, sending the ball soaring into the net.

"Go, Cristiano!" you shout at the top of your lungs, your voice blending with the chorus of supporters around you. The elation on Cristiano's face is unmistakable, even from afar. It's moments like these that make all the hard work and sacrifices worth it.

As the game progresses, the whispers of rumors grow louder, finding their way into the ears of observant reporters. Some keen individuals have started to notice the way Cristiano steals glances at you during matches, or the subtle gestures of affection you exchange when no one is watching. Speculations begin to circulate about the true nature of your relationship. However, the truth remains hidden, concealed behind the facade of friendship, guarded by your shared decision to protect the privacy of your love.

After the game, amidst a frenzy of media and jubilant fans, you make your way to the player's lounge. Cristiano, his face still flushed with the exhilaration of the match, pulls you into a tight embrace.

"You played incredibly today, love," you whisper, hugging him tightly. He smiles warmly at you, his eyes brimming with affection.

In a fleeting moment, Cristiano leans in and presses a tender kiss against your lips. The intimate gesture fills your heart with reassurance. "Thank you, my love," Cristiano murmurs, his voice laced with affection. His gaze holds a hint of determination, signaling that he believes the time has come for a change.

Before either of you can utter a word, the sound of hurried footsteps and the clamor of reporters fill the air as they make their way towards the lounge's entrance. You exchange a quick nod, sealing an unspoken understanding, and kiss Cristiano's lips once more before swiftly slipping out of the lounge through the back door. Positioned discreetly, you find a hidden vantage point, peeking through a narrow crack to witness the pivotal moment that is about to unfold.

A sudden hush falls over the room as the journalists enter, sensing the significance of the impending revelation. Cristiano's eyes seek you out, locking with yours, and in that moment, you share an unbreakable bond of unity and love. He takes a deep breath, ready to reveal the truth to the world.

During the post-match interview, various journalists bombard Cristiano with questions about the game, his training regimen, and the secrets to his phenomenal success. Then, as anticipated, a daring journalist raises the inevitable question, his tone brimming with curiosity, "Cristiano, there have been persistent rumors about a romantic relationship between you and y/n. Can you shed some light on that?"

Cristiano's eyes twinkle as he glances at you for a split second, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Your heart races, pounding so fast you fear it might burst through your chest. In this moment, you cannot help but feel an overwhelming surge of happiness, knowing that you will no longer have to suppress your feelings in public. The weight of secrecy is about to be lifted, replaced by a sense of liberation and joy.

"Yes," Cristiano declares, his voice firm and resolute, capturing the attention of the room. "The rumors are true. Y/N and I are dating. We have been together for a year and a half. She is my pillar of strength, my confidante, and my greatest support. Our bond transcends friendship, and I couldn't be happier to share this news with the world."

The room erupts into a symphony of gasps, applause, and a flurry of camera flashes. The truth is out, released into the world like a bird taking flight. The love you and Cristiano share is no longer confined to the shadows; it now stands proudly in the spotlight. From this moment forward, you will face the world together, hand in hand, unafraid of the scrutiny and ready to embrace the adventure that awaits.

[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.”

[douceurrrr]

I’m in my football phase, any requests?

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

I want to do a Cristiano Ronaldo x reader fanfic.

He is single and unmarried. Fiction. Remember?

You were kind to a stranger who was a prince in disguise. What do you girls think?

[tsukkiru]

Hello everyone! My name’s matt and i’m 15 years old! I’m a huge football fan and i love drawing and writing fanfics about them! I never really posted on Tumblr but i kind of want to share my art, so here we go!

I write/draw most of these ships:

-Cristiano x Messi (MY BABIESSSS)

-Antonela x Messi

-Cristiano x Georgina

-Neymar x Messi

-Ramos x Modric

-Depaul x Messi

-Dibu x Messi

-Kun x Messi

(lowkey everyone with messi)

Here’s my favorite tropes!

-Enemies to Lovers

-Alpha/Omega

-Friends to Lovers

Hope you guys will like my posts 🫶🏾

[dybalassunshine]

Chapter 3 - So It Began

EMI'S POV

I was yet to recover from the shock of what I had read when we heard a scream from the front area of the plane.

"HOLY SHIT!"

It was Haaland's distinct voice. Leo didn't waste a moment before rushing to see what happened. I followed him of course. By the time we reached the cockpit, the rest of them were already there. Ozil stood at the door, his face pale. Haaland was inside the cockpit and we waited impatiently to see what had caused the Norwegian to scream like a girl. After a few moments, he came out of the cockpit with his face holding a look of absolute terror.

Ramos was the one to speak amongst us.

"Hey, what happened?"

Haaland didn't reply. He was still like a mannequin. Ramos turned to Ozil who was standing still and terrified.

"Ozil, what happened?"

"The pilot... he's dead"

Ramos stared at his friend in disbelief. Cristiano pushed his way forwards.

"Bullshit! Ain't no way! We're still flying!"

"The plane is on auto-pilot. We're dead!"

Haaland's voice was breaking and if the situation wasn't this drastic, I'd have definitely teased him about it. Hakimi left the area clutching his forehead. He sat on the first seat and was now on the verge of crying. Before I could go see him, Mbappe cut me off and sat next to him. It was the 12th time I felt like punching him. Ozil was stuck to the spot near the door where he had started praying. Ramos was next to him, holding him up. Cristiano had gone to see the dead pilot and he returned with his face as pale as Haaland's. Too much for being strong I guess.

"Well, how did he die?"

My question fell on deaf ears. Di Maria had also sat down on one of the seats. Neymar and Dybala stood near the door still, probably wanting to go see but too scared to actually go. I decided to go see the pilot myself.

As I was about to enter the cockpit, Dybala grabbed my arm.

"Are you sure Emi? It must be a horrible sight to make Cristiano and Haaland look like terrified 5-year-old kids..."

Typical Dybala.

"I'll be fine, don't worry Paulo"

I shook his hand off and went in. the sight was definitely not a pretty one. The pilot lay dead in his seat, his hands still on the controls. I looked around to find anything suspicious but all I found were water bottles and a packet of chips. I checked his body for any injuries but he seemed ok.

Then how the hell did he die here miles in the air?!

And then my eyes went to his mouth and there it was! The foam was starting to come out of his mouth and his face was a little bluish in color.

So he was poisoned!

I took another look around and then it hit me. The water bottles! They must be poisoned!

We are super screwed!

END OF EMI'S POV

Minutes had passed since Emi had gone into the cockpit. Dybala had started to get worried for his friend. But there was no way he would go in. He could never do well with dead bodies and blood. The thought only horrified him. So instead, he went to Leo.

"Hey Leo, do you mind checking if Emi is ok in there?"

"Uh, sure." As soon as Leo stood up to go in, Emi came out holding two water bottles.

"Listen here, everyone! I have news"

Everyone turned their attention toward Emi, who was standing in the front row.

"What I'm about to tell you might –"

"Oh get on with it!"

This comment earned Cristiano a glare from the tall man who continued nonetheless.

"As I was saying before the rude interruption, this news will most definitely scare the shit out of you all but it's important you know."

He reached into his pocket to take out the small paper which Leo recognized instantly. This seemed to have caught Harry's attention as he raised his eyebrow at Leo's expression of guilt.

"Two days before we all decided to join the suicide squad, Leo got this message which is a typical horror movie warning – 'don't go or you'll die'. The thing is, Leo, just like any sane person, thought it was a prank. But apparently, it isn't since our pilot lies dead and we're headed to God knows where..."

"You're telling me we were warned before this and Messi didn't tell us?!"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying Ninja Turtle. Sit down and let me complete."

Kylian sat down as Hakimi tried to calm him down. Leo sunk into his seat. He knew he had made a mistake by not telling them.

"Anyways, that's not all. While you guys were busy being afraid of the dead pilot, I looked around, and guess what, he was poisoned. I found these sus water bottles in there and our dear pilot has foam coming out of his mouth. May he rest in peace."

A few moments passed in complete silence. The weight of what had happened and what could happen was heavy in the air. Leo received a few angry looks as Di Maria tried to console him about everything. Kylian was still complaining about how Messi had put them in trouble which earned him a glare from Neymar. Ozil and Ramos sat together. Haaland was still shaken by the death of the pilot while Cristiano and Harry talked in whispers. Having had enough of their bullshit, Emi threw the bottles down forcefully.

EMI'S POV

What a bunch of crybabies!! Sitting there like everything will set itself right.

"Oi! What's the matter with you people?! This plane is probably leading us to our deaths and you're sitting and moping? We need to do something!"

"Yeah? What exactly do we do? Jump out and hope we make it?"

Kylian's remarks boiled my blood further. This kid will die by my hands for sure. Fricking diva!

"Shut up little boy. Let the elders talk."

I turned to Leo. He was very clearly upset about everything.

"Leo, I know you didn't do it on purpose. I trust you and I know you. I understand you're feeling guilty but listen to me. We need to get out of this mess."

He nodded and stood up.

"Anyone has any ideas?"

Hakimi raised his hand. Leo smiled at him and nodded.

"The plane is on auto-pilot which means we will need clearance codes to change the route and destination. And unfortunately, we don't have them. But the pilot probably does. So if we search for them, we might find them and probably turn this plane back to England..."

"Excellent! Someone with a brain!" I couldn't help but feel proud of him. What a smart boy!

Ozil raised his hand as well.

"Yes, Ozil?"

"In case we don't find the codes, we should look for parachutes. As soon as we see land, we will jump. If the message Leo got is serious, we might die as soon as this plane reaches where it's supposed to."

"Hmm, you're right. Great! Anyone else?"

Dybala stood up.

"I think we should just go where this plane takes us."

"My brother in Christ, are you for real right now? I asked for ideas, not tips to die."

"I'm serious. Whoever planned this, had our pilot die in the middle of nowhere. Do you think he wouldn't have thought of the possibility of us finding the codes or parachutes?"

Damn it! He's not wrong.

"Well, let's at least look for the codes and parachutes. We'll see what to do later."

Everyone seemed to agree with Leo. Dybala shrugged and sat back down.

"Ahem, so we will-"

"Wait a minute! Who made you the leader here?"

Of course, this little shit has a problem with me taking the lead...

Neymar replied on my behalf.

"In case you haven't noticed, Emi is the only one who has come up with clues and shit. What have the rest of us do? He should lead us."

Hmm. Neymar might just live through this.

"I say we vote. Whoever gets the most votes will lead us."

"Fine by me, sonic."

The audacity to roll his eyes at me...ugh

"Whoever wants Emiliano to lead us, sit on the left side of the plane. Whoever thinks he shouldn't be the leader, sit on the right side."

Lame.

For a second, no one moved. Then Leo went and sat on the left side. So did Di Maria, Dybala, Neymar, Haaland, Harry, and Ozil.

Of course, Ramos, Hakimi, and Cristiano wouldn't. Whatever.

"Majority is ok with Emi taking the reins. If we have wasted enough time, shall we start looking?"

Leo's words stamped the conflict right then and there. Kylian groaned and hung his head in defeat.

Hah! Take that French Sonic!

"So, we will form three groups, one will look for the parachutes, one will check the cockpit for codes, and the other will search the plane for clues. Alright?"

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Feels nice to command great players and Kylian.

"Ozil, Haaland, Dybala, and Hakimi, look for parachutes. Kylian, Harry, Di Maria, and Ramos look for clues here, and Leo, Cristiano, Neymar, and I will search the cockpit. Get to work!"

And with my final words, everyone set out to find something, anything valuable. 

[gatinhasozinha]

Tema: Possessivo+Lactofilia

* Pov Cristiano Ronaldo

Minha mulher e eu, estávamos em uma festa de aniversário, de um colega de equipe, subi para o camarote, e S/n ficou na pista de dança com umas amigas, com o seu gingado brasileiro, ela sempre atraía olhares. Por isso sempre ficava cuidando, não por medo dela me trair, mas sai com medo do que pessoas mal intencionados poderiam tentar fazer com ela.

Bebendo com os caras e de olho em S/n, percebi que tinha algo errado, minha intuição nunca falha, um cara estava indo pra cima dela e ela estava tentando se afastar, claramente desconfortável.

Bebi o resto do whisky que tinha no meu copo, desci a escadaria do camarote e fui até a minha garota, chegando lá, escutei as coisas repugnantes que o sem noção estava falando para a minha mulher.

Cara: __ Iae gostosa, quanto você quer para passar a noite comigo? Eu pago bem! Vou adorar te comer e me acabar nesses peitões.

Vi no olhar de S/n, que ela estava com medo, não consegui me segurar, parti pra cima dele, dei alguns socos no rosto dele.

Quem ele pensa que é, falar esses absurdos para a minha baby girl, só Eu posso fode-lá, e ele falou dos MEUS peitos, ninguém além de mim pode fazer qualquer coisas com eles, com o MEU tetê.

Sérgio e Marcelo, me tiraram de cima do cara, ele já se encontrava desmaiado.

S/n chorava assusada nos braços de Pilar, mulher do Ramos. Andei até a minha garota e a abracei bem forte, queria transmitir nesse abraço que eu a protegeria do mundo.

S/n estava tremendo, logo percebi, que ela teria uma crise de ansiedade. Peguei ela no colo, e andei para a saída lateral do, salão de festa. Meu carro estava estacionado alí, abria a porta de trás e entrei com ela no colo, com ela virada para mim comecei a conversar com ela, tentando a acalmar. Mas não estava surtindo efeito, comecei a me desesperar.

S/n tentava tirar a roupa, eu não estava entendendo, mas a ajudei a tirar o vestido, tentei colocar o meu blase nela mas ela não aceitou, S/n ainda respirando de forma acelerada apertou o biquinho do seu peito e puxou o meu rosto em direção ao seu seio. Na hora em desespero acabei esquecendo que, mamar acalmava tanto eu quanto ela, para lhe relaxar usei as minhas mãos, com a direita comecei a fazer um carinho na sua coxa e com a esquerda na suas costas.

Depois de uma hora e meia, nos dois já estávamos mais calmos. Ponhei meu blase nela e pulamos para os bancos da frente. Dirigi para a nossa casa, fomos direto para a nossa suíte, tomamos um banho para tirar toda a energia negativa, tentei puxar conversa mas S/n não quis papo, me puxou pra cima de si e me pois para mamar. Quando vi ela já estava dormindo e eu apaguei logo em seguida.

❕Notas

Mais um capítulo finalizado, My little red ones!

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[unyeowll-blog]

Cristiano không thể tin vào mắt mình.

Lionel Messi, kình địch của hắn ta trong suốt hơn một thập kỉ, ngồi giữa nhà hàng nổi tiếng nhất Qatar với chiếc áo vest màu nâu sữa bên ngoài áo cổ lọ trắng tinh tươm, cùng chiếc quần jean đen hoàn hảo vừa vặn ôm sát cặp đùi săn chắc của anh ấy. Bộ râu của Messi cũng được chăm chút kĩ hơn, mái tóc nâu tạo kiểu nhẹ nhàng và ôi Chúa ơi, cái cách đôi mắt nai của anh ta mở to đầy ngạc nhiên khi nhìn thấy Cristiano đứng ở ngưỡng cửa, trong đời hắn chưa bao giờ thấy điều gì đáng yêu đến thế.

"Ronaldo-... Hola!" - Messi mỉm cười, hơi gật đầu

"Xin chào!"

Cristiano khá bất ngờ trước thái độ cởi mở, gần như là một điều mới mẻ mà hắn ta vừa phát hiện ra trong con người của Messi. Lionel Messi luôn khiêm tốn, ngại ngùng và nhút nhát, và chỉ sẵn sàng bắt đầu một cuộc trò chuyện với Cris nếu người mở lời trước là hắn. Có thể anh ta đang có một tâm trạng tốt, Cristiano nghĩ, một ngày hoàn hảo và tuyệt vời, bằng chứng là anh ta đang dùng một bữa tối sang trọng ở đây trong một bộ trang phục chỉn chu hơn hẳn phong cách tối giản bụi bặm thường ngày của anh ấy.

Và Cristiano quay sang khoảng trống đối diện Messi "Anh ngồi một mình sao?" - Cris nhướn một bên lông mày

"Ồ, vâng, tôi... chỉ có tôi thôi."

Messi nhún vai, trong chốc lát đôi mắt đen láy dường như định nhìn đi chỗ khác để né tránh Cristiano, nhưng cuối cùng nó vẫn nán lại trên người hắn ta. Cris lại phát hiện thêm một khía cạnh mới khác, Messi chưa bao giờ cố nhìn thẳng vào hắn trong vòng 5 giây!?

"Tuyệt, ý tôi là, thật ngạc nhiên khi thấy anh đi ăn tối một mình. Tôi luôn bắt gặp anh ở cùng cả đội bóng, hoặc chí ít là Neymar, trước đây là Aguero hoặc Pique."

"Đột nhiên tôi chỉ muốn dành thời gian cho bản thân. Và thức ăn ở đây rất ngon, tôi đã nếm thử rồi!"

Messi mỉm cười, hơi ngọ nguậy cái nĩa trong tay và nhìn sang đĩa salad của mình trong giây lát, sau đó anh ta lại tiếp tục ngước lên tìm kiếm đôi mắt của Cristiano. "Anh có muốn ngồi xuống không?" Messi đề nghị, và Cris có thể thấy cách đôi gò má của anh ta hơi ửng đỏ trong khoảnh khắc đó, "Để nếm thử thức ăn..."

"Chắc chắn rồi, nếu anh không phiền." - Cristiano vội vàng ngồi xuống ghế trống đối diện sau khi Messi hơi nghiêng đầu và bật ra một tiếng cười nhẹ

"Dĩ nhiên. Tôi nghĩ tôi cũng đã dành đủ thời gian cho mình rồi. Trước khi đến đây tôi đã đi một vòng quanh sân vận động và... đói bụng." - Messi đỏ mặt, đảo mắt

Và trước khi Cristiano có thể bình luận về hành động của anh ta, Messi thốt lên: "Chúa, anh cũng đến đây một mình chứ?"

Cristiano rõ ràng cảm thấy tình huống này vô cùng thú vị "Chà, tôi..."

"Tôi xin lỗi, Cri- Ronaldo. Tôi chỉ là thấy anh đứng ở đó và không hiểu sao tôi có cảm giác rằng anh cũng giống tôi, vậy nên tôi đã... Chúa ơi, tôi xin lỗi. Tôi không cố ý làm phiền anh." - Giọng Messi run run và nó dường như vỡ ra ở câu cuối, đôi vai chùng xuống đầy thất vọng khiến anh ta trông yếu đuối và nhỏ bé vô cùng. Tuy nhiên Cristiano chỉ ngạc nhiên vì Lionel Messi ít nói thường thấy bây giờ nói nhiều như thế nào.

"Không, không, anh đã đúng, tôi đến đây một mình-" Cristiano khẳng định, vẫy cả 2 tay "Thật buồn cười khi 2 chúng ta đều nghĩ rằng người kia không thể đi ăn tối một mình."

Và Messi cười nhẹ nhõm "May quá. Tôi không hề muốn làm gián đoạn cuộc hẹn của anh, nếu anh có... Chỉ là, tôi thấy anh, và... tôi nghĩ bây giờ hoặc là không bao giờ, mời anh ăn tối..." Khuôn mặt của anh ta đỏ lên, và Cris thầm nguyền rủa chiếc áo cổ lọ che mất cái cổ trắng muốt của anh ta, nếu không Cris đã có thể thấy màu đỏ lan tận đến hõm cổ và xương quai xanh của người đàn ông ấy.

"Tại sao anh lại nghĩ như vậy?"

"Tôi... tôi không biết. Đây còn chẳng phải là lần đầu tiên tôi nghĩ như thế-" Cristiano nhướn mày "Tôi đã từng muốn mời anh khi chúng ta được mời chụp quảng cáo cho LV, nhưng rồi tôi đến và họ nói anh đã có kế hoạch khác. Rồi sau đó là WC, chúng tôi đã thua ngay trong trận đầu tiên và khi tôi cảm thấy mình đã ổn, đủ bình tĩnh và tập trung để đến với những trận đấu tiếp theo, tôi muốn bản thân mình thư giãn một chút nhưng mà anh-..." - Messi ngập ngừng, hai tay bối rối đan vào nhau và ánh mắt ngước nhìn Cristiano dường như đang chờ người Bồ Đào Nha cho phép anh ta tiếp tục, Cris chỉ chớp mắt chậm rãi

"...Và trong trận giao hữu hôm qua." Cristiano nhớ lại cái cách đôi mắt to tròn của Messi luôn tìm kiếm và dõi theo hắn mỗi khi anh ta không có bóng. Một lời mời ăn tối là quá nhiều cho những khoảnh khắc trò chuyện ngắn ngủi trên sân cỏ, Cris có thể đoán rằng Messi không dám mạo hiểm bày ra miếng mồi béo bở này cho giới truyền thông, cho hàng triệu khán giả và người theo dõi để họ có cớ suy diễn, bàn tán như là Cristiano Ronaldo và Lionel Messi gây chiến, thách thức... bla bla, trên sân. Họ đã đủ "ghét" nhau rồi.

Hoặc có thể Messi nhỏ bé chỉ ngại ngùng thôi.

"Tôi thấy camera chĩa vào chúng ta ở đằng sau-..." - 𝘖̂̀, 𝘭𝘢̀ 𝘤𝘢̉ 𝘩𝘢𝘪, Cristiano cười trong bụng khi thấy Messi cũng đồng thời bối rối gãi chiếc tai nhọn của mình "...nên tôi đã chờ đến khi trận đấu kết thúc, và tôi vẫn không thể hẹn được anh."

“Đội của anh đã chiến thắng, tôi nghĩ rằng mình không còn nhiệm vụ gì ở đó nữa.” – Cris mỉm cười, khá hài lòng khi thấy Messi cau mày, ngừng lại những câu chữ tiếp theo trên đầu lưỡi để Cristiano có thể nói “Và hôm nay anh đã gặp được tôi, một mình, ăn tối, hoàn hảo.”

Những lời đó dường như khiến Messi thích thú và vui vẻ trở lại “Đúng vậy, thật hoàn hảo.”

Một Messi với phong cách thời trang mới, nhẹ nhàng nhưng cũng không kém phần hấp dẫn, chưa bao giờ xuất hiện trong tâm trí Cristiano, chứ đừng nói đến một Messi bạo dạn và nói nhiều. Trong thoáng chốc, Cris nghĩ liệu có phải Messi đang muốn tán tỉnh hắn ta không, bởi cái cách người đàn ông này thay đổi con người mình như thể muốn anh ta trở nên phù hợp với Cris, và hẹn hắn ta đi ăn tối, không chỉ lên kế hoạch cho một lần mà tận 3 lần, Cris chắc chắn rằng họ không hề thân thiết đến mức đấy. Suy nghĩ về một Messi cố gắng tán tỉnh mình khiến bụng Cris nhộn nhạo, râm ran, nhưng một phần nhỏ thôi, là do hắn ta vẫn chưa ăn gì từ trưa đến giờ.

“Tôi còn chưa gọi món nữa, Chúa.” – Cris lắc đầu, mỉm cười. Messi cũng cười

“Tôi cũng sẽ gọi thêm gì đó.” – Ngay khi anh ta định cầm tờ menu bên cạnh lên, Cristiano đã nói với tờ menu được mở ra từ lúc nào trong tay của mình “Ồ, hãy gọi món này, salad trộn nhiệt đới, tôi cá rằng anh sẽ nghiện nó.” Sau đó hắn ta vẫy tay để gọi bồi bàn

Điều đó khiến Messi bật cười “Tôi đang ăn salad mà, Cristiano.” Anh ta liếc xuống đĩa salad vẫn còn một nửa của mình. Và trong khoảnh khắc đó, hắn ta cảm thấy mình thật ngu ngốc, trước khi lại tự hỏi rằng có phải Messi đang cố tình trêu chọc hắn hay không, biến hắn ta thành trò cười nhờ khuôn mặt nóng bừng ngờ nghệch của chính mình chỉ bởi vì Messi gọi tên Cris và Cris không để ý đã có một đĩa salad ở ngay trước mặt anh ấy ngay từ đầu buổi. “Ồ, vậy thì tiếp theo anh nên ăn thịt bò.” Cris cúi mặt xuống thấp hơn, tránh ánh mắt tinh nghịch tò mò Messi đang dành cho hắn

“Anh có muốn uống gì không? Tôi sẽ gọi nước ép… um, cải xoăn.” – Hắn ta lật vài trang menu, sau đó ngẩng mặt lên nhìn Messi mở to mắt, rõ ràng là rất kinh ngạc vì Chúa, ai lại đi uống nước ép cải xoăn cho bữa tối tại một nhà hàng sang trọng? Cristiano cười thích thú trước suy nghĩ đang được vẽ hết lên trên gương mặt của Messi, hắn ta nhướn một bên lông mày để chắc chắn sẽ không thay đổi lựa chọn của mình, và Messi hơi bĩu môi dưới, suy nghĩ.

“Lúc trước Kun đã nói với tôi ở đây có nước mơ ngâm rất ngon… Tôi muốn thử.” – Messi cười bẽn lẽn, như một đứa trẻ đang xin phép mẹ nó để được ăn thêm một cây kẹo nữa vậy. Thật dễ thương, Cristiano gào thét trong tâm trí

“Okay, muito legal. Tôi chỉ hơi thất vọng vì anh không chọn nước ép cải xoăn.” Cris nói đùa, đóng menu lại và đưa cho bồi bàn. Sau khi thấy vẻ mặt dường như là khó tin của Messi, hắn ta bật cười thành tiếng, để lộ hàm răng trắng sứ tuyệt đẹp của mình “Nhưng tôi đoán hai chúng ta có thể chia sẻ.”

Messi bỏ qua vài lời bình luận và câu hỏi về đó có phải là chế độ ăn uống thường ngày của Cristiano không, thay vào đó anh ta vẫn chỉ mỉm cười, hai lúm đồng tiền thật xinh xắn trên khuôn mặt phiếm hồng

“Nghe tuyệt đấy, Cristiano.”

[hesterias]

The Masterlist

Here you can find all my published works. I mostly post on AO3.

REQUESTS: currently closed | PROMPTS: open

THE LAST SHADOW PUPPETS/AM (BAND) - alex turner/miles kane

oneshots

a sordid affair [completed] - Alex looks back on his affair with Miles throughout countless hotel rooms.

STRANGER THINGS - steve harrington/eddie munson

multi-chapter

The Night Will Hold Us Close [in progress] - Steve Harrington is just trying to keep it together without having a complete breakdown. That is, until Eddie Munson invites him to see his band play, and that all flies out the damn window.

MUSE (BAND) - matt bellamy/dom howard

drabbles

Wonders of the Moonlight [completed] - Dominic admires Matthew in the moonlight.

oneshots

Savior [completed, 18+] - Who knew committing sin could feel so good? Matthew contemplates the consequences of his sexual desires.

It Tears You Apart [completed] - What happens when you realize you've arrived at a point of no return? An unexpected development forces two men to ruminate on their relationship.

O Mare E Tu (The Sea and You) [completed, 18+] - The signs were all there, but your love wasn’t. A bitter separation. The bitter aftermath picking up the pieces.

multi-chapter

Hope [completed] - Tragedy strikes. Matthew is reminded of his moxie in the form of a letter. Takes place throughout a period of months.

FOOTBALL RPF - leo messi/cristiano ronaldo

multi-chapter

100k Pasos [in progress] - The two times Cristiano Ronaldo was there for Lionel Messi, and the one time he fell in love.

[vinterhunnie07]

So i finally completed my cressi fic!

It was the very first time my word count crossed 3000 words but i hope the story will be enjoyable

Here's the link to the work:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45255688

It's title is You and I together no more grey ❤️

Please check it out and be sure to leave comments,they help a lot!

[wavypotatochips]

Would you please write an imagine were ronaldo is super clingy and it’s just pure fluff? Thank you!! 🫶

𝐈𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 | 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐑𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐨

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Cristiano Ronaldo x Female Reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Cristiano are relaxing in each other's arms and he lavishes you with attention.

Word Count : 474

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: 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 and your boyfriend Cristiano are having a movie night together. You are snuggled up on the couch, and he has his arm wrapped around you tightly. As the movie starts, he leans his head on your shoulder and lets out a contented sigh.

"Mmmm, I love being close to you like this," Cristiano murmurs. Cristiano's futbol career does not always allow him to be by your side as much as he would like. But, thankfully, he was able to take a day off and all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

You smile and run your fingers through his hair. "I love it too, babe. You're so warm and cozy."

Cristiano lets out a small laugh and nuzzles even closer to you. "I'm glad you think so. I just can't help myself. I need to be close to you all the time." Despite the fact that sports media portrays him as a gruff, strict character, he is truly compassionate behind closed doors. And you can't help but love how he exclusively acts this way towards you.

You can feel his breath on your neck, and it sends shivers down your spine. "You're so clingy, but I find it adorable," you tease.

Cristiano pouts playfully. "Hey, I'm not clingy. I just love you so much that I want to be near you all the time."

"I know, and I love that about you," you reply, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead.

Cristiano grins and snuggles in even closer. "Good, because I'm not going anywhere."

You both settle back into the movie, but Cristiano's hand starts to wander across your lap. "Hey, none of that," you say, trying to stifle a laugh.

Cristiano chuckles and pulls his hand back. "Sorry, sorry. I'll behave." His smile never leaves his face as he leans back a bit to look at you, his eyes sparkling. "You know…. Y/N.. You're the best. The most amazing, beautiful, wonderful person I've ever met."

You feel a warm flush spread across your cheeks, and you can't help but grin. "Thank you, baby. You aren't so bad yourself," you wink down at him in a playful manner.

Cristiano chuckles, “I mean it. I feel so lucky to be with you. You make everything better."

You lean in to kiss him, feeling your heart swell with affection. "You make everything better too, you know. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Cristiano's eyes soften, and he pulls you in for another long, slow kiss. "You don't have to worry about that. I'm never going to leave you."

You snuggle in even closer, feeling his warmth and love surrounding you. As the movie plays on, you both continue to steal kisses and whisper sweet nothings to each other, lost in your own little world of affection and adoration.

[dracoderiddle]

29-Abril-2008

Se secó el cabello de manera lenta mientras una sonrisa tonta se formaba en sus labios, habían ganado la Champions ante el Barcelona 1-0 había sido un partido emocionante

Se encaminó a su casillero tarareando una melodía que se le había quedó pegada luego de escuchársela ah uno de sus compañeros de equipos

Podía tomarse las libertades que quisiera, pues sus compañeros alfas se habían retirado hace al menos media hora en lo que el esperaba que ellos usarán los baños, preferia ducharse solo que hacerlo con sus compañeros, no es que desconfiara de ellos, pero era mejor prevenir que lamentar era un Omega sin marca y sin alfa, algo peligroso en aquello tiempos donde un alfa podía reclamar y marcar a un Omega aunque esté no estuviese de acuerdo

Por lo mismo mantenía en secreto su casta, prefería mentir y acerse pasar por un simple beta que un Omega

Era chistoso un "beta" que arrasaba con los alfas en las canchas, no era algo que le agradará a la FIFA y lo sería menos si se enterarán de que el realmente es un Omega

Mientras se ponía los pantalones sintió un fuerte olor a almendra y tabaco picarle la nariz, él ya había sentido ese aroma antes en la cancha

Un fuerte ruido se escuchó como si la puerta de la entrada de los vestidores hubiera sido lanzada por los aires

Con un ligero temblor en sus manos se asomo desde los casilleros intentando ver lo que causa aquellos ruidos, grande fue su sorpresa al ver ah uno de los miembros del equipo rival en la entrada, sin camiseta, totalmente sudado y apestando todo el lugar con sus feromonas, mientras que olfateaba en busca de algo

Tarde se dio cuenta de su error, en su momento de felicidad había soltado una pequeña cantidad de sus feromonas que estaban reprimidas por los supresores y al parecer el alfa frente a el, las había sentido

- Ey estás bien? - llamo y nuevamente de dio cuenta que aquello había sido un error

Aquel alfa estaba en celo

Busco una salida para intentar huir pero era muy tarde el alfa ya estaba sobre el

Su Omega interno chillo asustado mientras el pataleaba y golpeaba a aquel alfa para que lo dejara pero lo que consiguió fue que esté lo mordiera fuertemente en el hombro mientras gruñía de forma bestial - mío

- por favor - rogo en un sollozo aún cuando sabía que aquel alfa jamás se detendría

El jamás pensó que el perdiera su virtud de aquella manera tan horrenda

[ftbllvr]

People I write for

Kylian Mbappe

Lionel Messi

Mason Mount

Neymar Jr

Lucas Paqueta

Richarlison

Cristiano Ronaldo

Jack Grealish

Memo Ochoa

And anyone else

TV Show/Movie Characters I’ll write for

Wednesday: Xavier Thorpe, Ajax Petropolus

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove

On My Block: Jamal Turner

Outer Banks: JJ Maybank

Bullet Train: Tangerine

Pls Leave me requests in my msg box

HAPPY NEW YEARS!!

[live-laugh-loverpool]

The One With the United Plane-Pool

The long-awaited story about the shared Man.U/Liverpool plane-pool! Enjoy!

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234

“Another year, another preseason!” Henderson announced, lugging his suitcase up the stairs. “And another game to kick it off.”

“Shut up,” Milner snapped, tossing his own bags into the cargo hold. “It’s an awful start!”

“Come on, Milly,” Diaz cajoled him. The Colombian had thoroughly enjoyed his vacation, even getting a new haircut in the process, and his joy was infectious. “Think of it as a vacation!”

“Big deal!”

“I know you hate Man. U more than anyone on this team,” Henderson sympathized. “But maybe you can at least try to have fun?”

Milner snorted in disgust, motioning to his left. “You try having fun when you’re stuck sitting next to Slabhead Maguire!”

He marched past Maguire and into the airplane. As soon as he got in, he was greeted by David De Gea.

“Hi, James! Er…” The goalie tried to find something nice to say to the grumpy captain. “Nice…shirt you got there! Is that the new Liverpool merchandise?”

“No, it’s Everton merchandise, Trentski’s favorite. Of course it’s Liverpool merchandise!” Milner glared at De Gea as if he’d just stolen his golf clubs. “And I won’t say that you’ve got a nice hotel bed yourself. Come to Liverpool! At least we’ve got clean sheets!”

With that, Milner spun on his heel and strode away from the Spaniard. He then bumped into a smiling Marcus Rashford.

“Milly!” He beamed, waving at the Yorkshireman. “I’ve not seen you since…”

“April,” Milner reminded him. “When we assassinated your butts 4-0!”

Bruno Fernandes walked up just in time to see this. He scowled, brushing past Rashford and going head-to-head with Milner.

“Hey, leave Rashy alone, got it?” Fernandes insisted. “He’s a good lad.”

“Oh, hi Bruno! Glad to see that people aren’t talking about you? Why don’t you just go into exile for ten years or something? Oh, I forgot! Your team is already in exile--from the CHAMPION’S LEAGUE!”

“Why don’t you sit down, James?” Fernandes offered, steering Milner to his seat. “Your coach is flying, it should be a good ride.”

“A good ride with Satan’s demons! BAH!”

*

“I’ve never seen Milly this crabby, mate,” a certain Scot piped up from his seat. “Even when we’re playing Everton!”

“He hates us,” Mctominay, his travel buddy, retorted. “He’s spent his entire life avoiding us.”

“I wish I could cheer him up somehow,” Robertson sighed. “If it was Che I could use Irn-Bru, but Milly is not Che.”

“That’s seriously your only solution?” Fabinho rolled his eyes. “Try hacking Ali’s Spotify playlist. It works for me.”

“Ali’s Spotify playlist is another word for sentimental mush central!” Fonseca retorted. “I’d know; I tried.”

“But really Robin, at least try!” Fabinho motioned to Milner, who hadn’t moved from his seat. “If he keeps going like this, preseason will be untenable!”

“Alright, mate,” the Scot agreed, removing his seatbelt and making his way towards Milner.

“Milly, have some fun, mate!” He grinned at his still-pouting teammate. “We can play chess.”

“You can sit still long enough to play chess?” The stocky man feigned shock, scowling at thin air. “Talk about IMPOSSIBLE!”

“Alright…Truth or Dare?” Robertson felt a glimmer of hope; Milner loved this game.

Milner just scowled. “Hell no.”

“Spin the Bottle?”

“Hell no.”

“Connect 4?”

“Hell no.”

“Candy Crush?”

“Hell no.”

“How Many Times Can Milly Swear In A Day?”

“Robin, SHUT UP!”

“Well, that went well,” Robertson remarked, turning to Fabinho. “Go ahead Brazilian, cheer him up!”

“I’m sorry, but I have better things to do,” Fabinho retorted. “Get Kostas or something.”

“Kostas!!!”

“Not literally, you idiota!”

“Did somebody call the Scouser Greek?” Tsimikas called over. “Me and Diogo Dalot can cheer him up.”

“Oh, Kostas,” Milner snorted. “Good to see you and your mass of EYEBAGS!”

“If nobody noticed, he’s been in a bad mood recently,” Tsimikas pointed out to half of the plane.

Robertson facepalmed. With Milner like this, any notion of fun was going out the window. “Is there anything that would cheer you up?”

*

They tried everything, and nothing worked.

First Alisson volunteered to play guitar. He and Adrian burst into a chorus of “Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da”, and soon everyone, even the United players, was singing.

All except Milner.

Thiago brought out some cookies, sharing them around the plane. Everybody enjoyed them.

All except Milner.

Jota brought out his mobile FIFA console, and produced multiple joysticks. Everybody had fun.

All except Milner.

Gred even turned on the big screen, and put on a movie. Everybody had fun.

All except Milner.

And now the whole Liverpool was stumped.

“What does it take to make this guy crack a smile?!” Jota groaned in exasperation, throwing his hands in the air. “A pair of dumbbells?”

“Got them.” Van Dijk held up Matip and Tsimikas. “A pair of dumbbells, just like you said.”

Elliott facepalmed, while Diaz just laughed.

After that, they all gave up, letting Milner sulk. It wasn’t like they didn’t like him. They liked Milner, they really did! But right now…

“Milly is being impossible!” Henderson yelled to nobody in particular. “Is he really hating this so much?”

“I may begin to agree with him,” Alexander-Arnold faltered.

“Why?”

The Scouser pointed to the top of the aisle. There stood--

Cristiano Ronaldo.

“Oh, cr--”

“SHENDO!” Matip pointed to Alexander-Arnold. “MINORS!”

“I’m going to be 24 in October!”

The Portuguese strode down the aisle. He wore skinny white jeans, a designer shirt that called attention to his abs, and sunglasses--indoors. He glided past everybody, not caring a damn about even his own teammates, until he stopped.

At. Milner’s. Seat.

“Oh, cranberries,” everybody muttered. Needless to say, Milner hated Ronaldo.

“Hello, six-packed lobster,” Milner snorted. “Coming to get cooked in the Scouse stew?”

“Six pack lobster? Ha!” Ronaldo scoffed. “Let’s see you get a suntan in your rainy ol’ Yorkshire!”

A communal gasp rippled through the crowd.

“No, he didn’t!” Robertson whispered before Van Dijk clobbered him.

“Oh, really?” Milner shot back. “You aren’t even the most famous Ronaldo.”

“Well, if you wanna talk about fame, let’s talk about a certain English “GOAT” who couldn’t win CRAP with his national team!”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you behind my humility.”

“I said that if you like algebra, you should count all my gold medals!”

Henderson shook his head in amusement.

*

Everything picked up after that. Now Milner and Ronaldo were busy in a roast battle--in the center of the plane.

“Yo team,” Ronaldo began, hands on his hips, “is so insignificant, you consider a parade a successful end to the season!”

“Yo team,” Milner shot back, “is so out of ideas, you thought some Dutch hombre from the middle of nowhere was your best idea for a coach!”

“Well, yo team is so disorganized, you make Arsenal look successful!”

“Seriously? Yo team won 0 trophies in 6 years, while we one 6 in the past 4!”

“Well, yo team is made up of so many misfits, there’s not even a Ballon D’Or winner on there!”

“Oh, come on! At least we have a proper skipper, unlike yo team, which has to put up with Slabhead Maguire!”

“So far it’s even between the two roasters,” Tsimikas announced from his cardboard commentary box. “Will any of them slip up long enough for his opponent to capitalize?”

“At least we don’t sell our top strikers for 30 million pounds,” Ronaldo pointed out with a cocky smirk on his face. “Unlike yo team!”

But Milner wasn’t going to go down that fast. “And you let Pogba go for free?”

“OOH!” the Liverpudlians chorused.

“Yo team’s coach,” Ronaldo went on, “is so weird, he wasn’t even known before coming here!”

Milner scoffed at the poorly-made roast. “Yo team’s coach is so bald, he makes Guardiola look hairy!”

“The roasters have just slipped in quality!” Tsimikas announced, gripping his microphone. “Will they find form again?”

“Yo team’s coach is so dumb, he doesn’t even know how to hold a real rivalry!”

“He called Kloppo DUMB?!” Elliott growled, seizing a newspaper. “That’s it, I’m whipping his butt.”

But Henderson got Elliott before he could do anything. “Hold it, lad! I think Milly has a comeback!”

And comeback he did have, because the next thing he said was, “Zip it, Cristiano! At least he doesn’t lose the dressing room, unlike the eight post-Fergie coaches yo team hired!”

“And they call him ‘Boring Milner’,” Matip whispered. “This is the most fun I’ve ever had!”

“Yo team’s boss is so deranged, he has a semi-feral owl!”

“Yo team is so dumb, you don’t even know that’s it’s called KEEPING A PET!”

“Yo team is so stripped of talent, you actually have to play Tyler Morton!”

“Yo team is so untrusting that you won’t even play your academy!”

“And just like that, James Milner has risen from the ashes!” Tsimikas updated the chalk scoreboard, biting his nails in anticipation. “How much hotter can this roast get?”

“Yo team is so lame, you missed out on the Champions League thanks to that ‘academy prodigy’ of yours!” Ronaldo glared at the Liverpool side of the crowd. “Trent JOHN Alexander-Arnold, I’m talking to you!”

As it turned out, insulting TAA was Ronaldo’s biggest mistake. Because Milner hit back with, “Yo self is so petty, you’re actually willing to hate on a kid!”

The Liverpudlians cheered at that dig. Ronaldo ran a hand through his over-gelled hair, seemingly out of ideas.

“Yo self,” he said after some time, “is so fat, when you step on the scale it says ‘to be continued’!”

“Well, then.” Milner wasn’t going to let that one go unscathed. “Yo self is so insecure, you Botoxed yourself and got ‘hip flexor injury’ holidays, just to hide the fact that you’re about to drop dead for want of retirement!”

Silence.

“CR7?” Milner smirked--he knew he’d got him. “Or should I say, ‘CR37’?”

Howls of laughter from the audience, but silence still from Ronaldo.

“I swear I will die of laughter from this!” Fonseca gasped, holding onto Fabinho for dear life.

“Well, then! Had enough whining, ‘GOAT’ who couldn’t win a World Cup?”

“One more unanswered roast, and James Milner will be the champion!” Tsimikas gripped his microphone in anticipation. “Come on Cristiano, get laryngitis!”

“Yo team is so…” Even Milner was all roasted out…almost! “Yo team is so stripped of talent, they had to play you as the central striker!”

This time everybody was dumbfounded. They had always known Milner was lethal when it came to sarcasm, but not that lethal. Ronaldo had been efficiently shut down with less effort than it took to beat Norwich City--and that really didn’t take much effort if Alisson saved their lives.

“Ronaldo had been shut down by James Milner, just like Sterling was shut down by Virgil van Dijk,” Tsimikas commented. “If Ronaldo accepts defeat, then James Milner, MBE, will get the prize!”

“WHAT?!” Ronaldo scowled, balling up his fists. He stormed towards Milner, who seemed surprised that the Portuguese had finally spoken.

“You are an insolent young man!” Ronaldo raised his fist, threatening to punch. “Now prepare to pay, Jose!”

“Jose?” Milner rolled his eyes at the striker, slowly approaching him. “I don’t think so, Cristiano. I’m not Jose. The name is Milner. James Milner.” And Milner hip-checked Ronaldo into a storage closet.

The Liverpudlians erupted into cheers, while the United players scowled, leaving for the back of the plane. Ronaldo’s protests could be heard from the closet, but for once, nobody paid attention.

“See, Milly?” Tsimikas elbowed him, still grinning. “We told you it’s not that bad!”

“Yeah.” Milner smirked, locking the closet and pocketing the key. “It isn’t--if Ronaldo’s in a locked closet.”

Note: some scenes borrowed from B/R Footballs "The Champions", Season 5, Episode 6.

Thanks for reading!

[elpuppies]

ronaldo to atleti rumors were definitely not on the damn bingo card