#football Fanfiction

[football-and-fanfics]

Restless - Jude Bellingham

Who: Jude Bellingham Prompt: Restless sleeping Requested by: as voted for by you! Warnings: slight mentions of nightmare

A/N: this is my first time writing for Jude, so hope you'll like it ;-)

You rarely woke up in the middle of the night, and on the very few occasions that you did, there always was something going on. So when you suddenly found yourself wide awake at 2.30 am, you immediately looked around for anything out of the ordinary.

It was a quiet autumn night. Nothing outside or in the house made a sound which would explain you waking up. You were just about to write it off as an anomaly, when suddenly Jude made a sound beside you.

"Don't..." A soft groan rolled off his lips. He lay on his back, fitfully rolling his head and shortly trampling his legs under the blankets.

You instantly knew that his restless sleeping was what had woken you up. Given the state of the blankets wrapped around him, and in some places not covering him at all anymore, he must have been uneasy for a while already.

Another whimpered groan rose up from him, as his fist clenched around the sheets. "Babe." You gently placed a flat hand on his bare chest, very carefully giving him a soft shake to wake him up. Jude immediately startled awake with a sharp intake of breath. He looked around a little confused, before his eyes locked on your face.

"What's wrong?" Jude propped himself up on his elbows, an urgent undertone to his voice. "Are you okay?" "Don't worry, I'm fine." You softly caressed his chest to ease him. "You were restless, tossing and turning."

He frowned at the faint memory of his own unpleasant dreams of just now. "Just..." Jude slowly shook his head. "Dreams..." "Not the kind of dreams you'd want to have from the looks of it," you spoke softly. Jude slowly lay back down, staring up at the dark ceiling. "Not really, no."

"Close your eyes." You reached for his hand and lovingly took it in yours. "Let's get some happier thoughts into that head of yours." "What are you doing?" Jude sounded unsure, but still did what you asked. "You'll see." You smiled softly. "I want to try something."

You slowly ran your fingertips over his hand and forearm, just lightly enough for him to feel. "Just focus on me. Feel my touch on your skin." The tension in Jude's body almost immediately disappeared as all his attention switched to you and no longer on the remnants of his dreams.

"Savour this feeling." Your voice was only a soft whisper now. "Replace those dark thoughts for something beautiful. Maybe that hattrick you scored last week." "Or the first time we met," Jude smirked, not opening his eyes. "Or that," you chuckled softly, "just let that happy memory swirl around your mind." "Gladly." Jude took a deep breath, lying on his back with his eyes closed and only focusing on the memory of your first date.

For several minutes you lay with Jude like that, caressing his skin and speaking softly to him. Finally, you noticed the slowing of his breaths and how the tension of his muscles fully left. You waited a few more minutes, but you could only reach one conclusion: Jude had fallen back to sleep. A peaceful sleep this time.

You pulled the blankets up a little higher over the both of you, before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Sweet dreams, babe."

Tags: @stonesyyyy, @footballffbarbiex, @football1921, @laurasstufff1, @ella33, @hbstre

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[lfcslut]

trust

pairing: kylian mbappe x reader

summary: it's 2am. kylian is calling and calling but you aren't picking up. he lets his anxiety get the better of him. based on this request.

words: 1.6k

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, mentions of infidelity, mentions of alcohol

author's note: this was so fun to write! i love writing kylian so much. hope you all enjoy :)

"Mon amour, where are you? Call me back. I'm worried."

This was perhaps the twelfth voicemail Kylian had left you that night. It was well past 2AM. You had gone out to celebrate the end of finals with some of your friends. Kylian had encouraged you to go, knowing how hard you had worked this semester. He knew and loved all of your friends from school, and there had never been any reason for him to not trust you. You had told Kylian that you would be home by midnight and to not wait up for you. Well, midnight had turned into 1AM, which had turned into 2AM, and you were nowhere to be found. You weren't answering his text messages and your calls were going straight to voicemail.

"Dammit," Kylian muttered to himself when his thirteenth call went to voicemail. He told himself not to panic. Your phone was always dying while you were out, no matter how many times Kylian told you to make sure it was fully charged before leaving the house. Yet, as the minutes ticked on, and Kylian lay wide awake in bed, unable to fall asleep without you next to him, the what ifs and worst case scenarios crept into his mind. What if you had gotten into an accident on your way home? What if you had been kidnapped by a stranger at the club? What if you had taken this opportunity to leave him for someone else? Kylian was not typically the anxious type, but he felt his muscles tense up and his heart start to beat faster as his mind ran through all of the possibilities.

Punctuality had never been your strong suit, he thought to himself. Soon after the two of you started dating, he learned that if you told him you would be there at a certain time, you actually meant that you would be there about thirty minutes after that. He had affectionally started teasing that you had your own standard time. You were always in your own timezone, in your own world, playing by your own rules.

Tonight was different, though. Even on your worst days, you had never been more than two hours late without at least a phone call. He thought about going out and looking for you, but he realized that you hadn't even told him which club you were going to. He could drive around Paris, scouring the streets for you, calling out your name like you were a lost pet - maybe even putting up missing signs (Have you seen this girl? Report all sightings by calling this number. Do not run after her - she doesn't like to be chased. Trust me, I would know) - but he knew it would be useless. Kylian finally sat up in bed and decided to call some of your friends who he knew you had gone out with. No answer. The lump in his throat grew ten times bigger. What if you weren't where you said you would be? This thought had never, ever crossed his mind before. Trust was such an important part of your relationship that it had never come into question in the four years you had been together. He never had any reason not to fully trust you, and he knew you felt the same about him. But in the wee hours of the morning, the insecurities Kylian never knew he had came crawling out into the open.

3:43. That was the time on the bedside clock when Kylian heard the security system go off downstairs. He heard you fumble as you struggled to remember the code to turn the alarm off. His exhaustion had finally gotten the best of him and he had dozed off a few minutes ago. He heard the stair boards creak as someone walked up the stairs. Was it finally you?

"Kyky!"

He knew instantly that you were drunk. Your words were slurred and you were stumbling around in the dark, barely able to keep your own body upright. Kylian hurriedly stood up, worried that you would fall, and helped you to your side of the bed. As soon as you sat down, you wrapped your arms around him.

"Baaaaby, I missed you 'smuch," you said, as you placed sloppy kisses all over him. Your breath smelling of vodka and cigarettes.

"Y/N, stop," Kylian said, pulling away from you. You looked up at him, surprised by his sudden coldness. "Where were you? I've been calling you like crazy."

"'m sorry, my phone died."

Kylian stood up from the bed and started pacing the bedroom, arms folded across his chest. His eyes were tracking the floor.

"I even called your friends and no one answered! Do you know how fucking worried I was?"

The harshness in his tone made you sober up quickly. "Ky, I'm so sorry, we were all drunk out of our minds."

"You said you would be back by midnight, it's almost fucking four am!" He raised his voice at you, which made you flinch.

"I said I was sorry!"

"Who were you with? You smell like cigarettes and I know you don't smoke." Kylian was standing dead in his tracks now. You didn't recognize the look in his eyes - a mixture of sheer exhaustion and absolute rage.

"People around me in the club were smoking."

"Bullshit. Who is he?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused as to what he was talking about. "What?"

"I said, who is he? What's his name?"

"Ky, you're being insane right now."

"I never thought you would hurt me like this, Y/N. I thought we were going to get married, I thought it was going to be us until the end."

"Ky, stop it! Do you really think I would cheat on you?"

"I don't know, where were you? Why are you four hours late and drunk out of your mind?"

You stared at him for a minute. You couldn't believe he was being serious right now. Yes, you were late and probably should have called, but you didn't think that your actions had warranted this kind of a response. You hesitated, half wondering if you should just leave and spend the night with a friend, before finally taking out your phone and plugging it into the charger.

"What are you doing?"

You didn't answer for a moment, sitting down on the bed and facing away from him. You couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. "Showing you proof," you said quietly. "Something I never thought I would have to do."

The two of you sat in silence, backs facing away from each other, for a moment while your phone began to start up again. After a minute, you pulled up your camera roll and tossed your phone towards Kylian, not even bothering to look at him. Kylian picked up the phone and began scrolling through all of the countless photos that you and your friends had taken that night. There were videos of you taking shots, photos of you posing in the bathroom with your girlfriends, clips of all of you dancing together, not a single man in sight.

"Oh," was all Kylian could say as he stared down at the phone, shame swelling up inside of him as he realized just how wrong he was.

"Happy now?"

"Cherie, I'm sorry."

"Forget it. I thought we were never going to do this, Kylian. I thought that no matter what happened, we were going to at the very least always trust each other." You stood up, almost completely sober by this point. "Now we don't even have that." You walked towards the bathroom, taking off your dress as you did so. Kylian followed behind you.

"I'm so, so sorry. I never should have said those things. I was just so worried."

"Yeah, and I know I should have called, but that doesn't give you the right to accuse me of cheating." You were standing in front of the mirror in your underwear while Kylian was behind you. You refused to look at him, instead searching around for your makeup wipes, hoping that Kylian wouldn't notice the wetness that had begun to form in your eyes.

"Please," Kylian pleaded, his voice cracking softly as he came up behind you and put his arms around your waist. "Forgive me, amour. I don't know what got into me. It'll never happen again."

To your surprise, you didn't push him away, though you continued to refuse to meet eyes, focusing instead on removing your makeup. "I would never in a million years accuse you of cheating on me."

"I know, baby, I know." Kylian kissed you on the cheek from behind. He wiped away the single tear that was falling from your eye. "No crying, princesse, please."

The two of you stood there for a few moments as Kylian rested his head on your shoulder, arms still wrapped around your waist, and you continued to remove your makeup. Your silence conveyed more than you could say in that moment - mostly, it said, I accept your apology.

After you had brushed your teeth and changed into your pajamas, Kylian helped you into bed and tucked you in like he normally did every night, planting a kiss on both of your cheeks. He then got into bed himself and took you into his arms. "I love you so much, princesse."

"I love you too, Ky," you whispered back to him.

"Sweet dreams, amour."

[highdreaming]

Eyes off her

💢 All the works are pure fictions, for entertainment purposes only so please, read it at your own will.

Summary: Your boyfriend gets jealous when someone flirts with you and a fight follows.

Find more at: Masterlist

Gavi x (female) reader

AN: Please like, reblog and give me feedback!

--

You twist your hands with nervousness as you wait for Gavi in the corridor.

The whole stadium vibrates with the loud cheers of the fans, everyone is excited for tonight’s big game and you feel the same way, wishing Gavi’s team to win. You wait for your boyfriend to show up, wanting to wish him good luck before the game. 

And he finally appears, pulling you towards him for a hug, a huge grin decorating his face.

“Hey. Good luck, babe. I hope you guys win.” you say, kissing his cheek. Gavi’s arm suddenly tightens around you and as you struggle to pull away, you notice the sudden tense expression on his face as he looks to the front.

You turn your head, catching a glimpse of a tall man from the other team staring at you, more specifically at your lower back with a cocky smirk on his face.

Your eyes meet his for a second and he provocatively winks at you before turning around and walking away. 

That explains Gavi’s reaction. You hold back a sigh, knowing how riled up your boyfriend gets, especially during games. 

“Babe, just ignore him.” you mutter, placing a hand on Gavi’s arm. Your words don’t seem to convince him but he gives you a rushed kiss before leaving to join the other boys for the game. 

You only hope he doesn’t let jealousy get the best of him. 

The game is dominated by Barcelona, your boyfriend’s team clearly being the best and it shows as they’re the ones leading, marking several goals. 

Your hands constantly pick the material of your Barcelona’s number 30 jersey, the excitement and nervousness of the game giving you a hard time.

Especially when Gavi keeps committing fouls, all of them directed towards the player that had checked you out earlier. The referee keeps showing him yellow cards and you’re already dreading the moment Gavi gets a red card.

Just as that thought crosses your mind, whistles erupt wildly across the stadium with everyone pointing towards a commotion on the field. 

Your eyes widen with horror when you notice that Gavi is in the center of it, violently pushing the other player. Both teams and its players get in the middle, attempting to stop it, but they’re unable to prevent Gavi from punching him in the face. 

You gasp in horror, your heart crazily beating as the referee pulls out a red card, showing it towards Gavi. His face is contorted in an angry frown, face glistening with sweat.

He stomps the grass, leaving the field under intense boos. You hurry up leaving the stands, running towards the inside of the building. 

Once you get to the locker room, you push the door open. Inside Gavi is sitting on a stool, throwing his shirt to the floor with a violent movement. 

You hesitate for a moment, seeing him so angry but slowly take small steps towards him. 

“Hey, are you okay?” you whisper, letting your hand stroke his hair. His shoulders slump and he looks at you, fury and jealousy burning in his gaze. 

“He was fucking talking about you! Like you were a piece of meat, like you weren’t my girlfriend.” he growls, brown hair falling down to his eyes as he literally vibrates with anger.

You hold back a sigh, already knowing that the player only did so to upset Gavi. Everyone knows that your boyfriend easily loses his cool. 

“He did that to make you upset, Gavi. You shouldn’t have listened to him. Now you’ve got a red card.” you say with a sad smile. 

Gavi meets your eyes, intently looking at you, brows furrowed. 

“So I was just supposed to let him talk like that about you? That wasn’t gonna happen.” he blurts out, hand reaching to grab your own, pulling you against him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, face pressed against your stomach. You take the chance to keep touching his hair, massaging his scalp as he takes deep frustrated breaths. 

You're not sure how long you remain in this position, but Gavi eventually gets calmer, his breathing getting steady. 

“I just love you too much.” he quietly whispers, pushing his face upwards. You meet his stare, his beautiful brown eyes holding an array of emotions. 

“And I love you back.”

---

AN: I also think I'm gonna start writing for Haaland, what do you think?

[oh-saints]

safeword

it’s not a rare occurrence to spice up some things in your love life with rúben, including but not limited to the sex aspect. but when things get tough for you, you have to tap out and at that sight, rúben has never felt so sorry for you.

rúben dias x you

tw: filthy smut (like, foreplay to overstimulation while being blindfolded kind of filthy) and its aftercare

wc: 2.3k

prompts: “using safeword during sex” + “aftercare”

note: so many of you ask for a rúben smut, therefore may i present you, in this 1st post of smut week... this is based on these two asks! I never said I didn’t warn you, guys… pls DNI if you’re not 18 yet! but as usual, I happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet.

“oh fuck, rúben!”

you didn’t know if your mouth produced a groan or a gasp or something in between because they sounded so carnal to you that you didn’t want to find out what that sound was categorised as. your brain had been melting since the first touch rúben landed on your skin after he’d managed to persuade you to put on a blindfold.

it’d be fun, he said.

of course it’d be fun for him. your boyfriend wasn’t on the receiving end of his torturous, sensual touches.

of course it’d be fun for him. your boyfriend wasn’t on the receiving end of his torturous, sensual touches.

it wasn’t your boyfriend that felt the sensation of his fingers pinching on one of your nipples while his mouth engulfed the other pink bud, his sinful touch worked wonders simultaneously with his teeth lightly biting.

it wasn’t your boyfriend that arched whenever his thumb pulled your nipple to a stiffness you didn’t know could make you more receptive than any other time he’d done this with you.

it wasn’t your boyfriend that was taken aback whenever he switched his thumb with his mouth, left and right, so relentlessly without giving you a break to breathe. it wasn’t your boyfriend that felt the striking difference between the cold air of his bedroom and the warmth you were provided by his hands and mouth.

it wasn’t your boyfriend’s ears that were fed by the disgusting sounds of his tongue lapping the areola like it was his last supper—sucking them good to the point he could tug on the erected bud gently, circling them around, back and forth like he didn’t want this to end.

but god, you did because he’d been doing these sinful things to you that it endangered your sanity. because you couldn’t see whatever he was doing.

it wasn’t your boyfriend that was being blindfolded, resulting in every of your senses heightened in sensitivity. as if being cuffed to the bedpost above you wasn’t enough, rúben killed you twice by heightening your anticipation.

it wasn’t your boyfriend that already came—thrice, mind you—under his ministrations because of that spiking anticipation, not knowing what to expect and when to expect his agonizing foreplay, and he hadn’t even touched you where you wanted him to.

and now his hands was stroking gently from the death grip of yours against the silk tie he was wearing earlier, down to your armpit, while his mouth alternated between the left and right sides of your mound like he couldn’t pick a better one to settle. so selfish of him, so arrogant, yet so sexy. “rúben, I—”

“I know, baby,” he said, and god was he not satisfied at your posture underneath him. arching so sexily like a vixen in need of mercy not to be killed, anything to get you off. fortunately for him, it was the figurative meaning. “you can come.”

“I don’t think—ow, fuck!”

you trashed your body to the left this time because he was nipping on the sides of your right, down to your belly button, before settling down just an inch before your opening, which had been dripping wet shamelessly even before you came for the first time this evening.

with his touches everywhere and his mouth so close yet so far to the very itching part of your body, you felt like your insides were exploding but too weak to combust. “I can’t, rúben, I can’t—”

“yes, you can, baby,”

you wanted to—god did you want to reach your high so bad—especially with the way rúben left trail of kisses all over the inside of your thighs, ending with a gentle kiss on top of your swollen labia.

but you didn’t have the energy too. your stamina had been diverted elsewhere—to your senses when kept blindfolded, to your hands when you gripped the silk material preventing you from touching your boyfriend, to your brain when you forced your lungs to breathe.

“you’re my good girl,” rúben whispered huskily against the sensitive skin, his teeth and tongue grazing insanely close to where you wanted him. with the way you were spread submissively, an inch closer to your inside would grant you his tongue on your clit. “I know you can.”

you knew you could, but not now. you needed a break first.

“rúben, I—” you bit your lips because you wanted to cry. you wanted to cry as rúben dived into your clit, licking them like they were a gelato served on a plate, because you couldn’t take it anymore, yet rúben was incredible on his tongue work you didn’t want to miss it. “rúben, no, no, no,”

if you thought the sounds rúben was making earlier was disgusting, the sounds rúben was making now was downright dirty. his tongue went up and down along your clit, circling the bud for a while as he enjoyed your bodily reactions, even went to dip the tip of his tongue to your hole slightly before pulling out. and before you realised it, you were shaking and trembling as orgasm knocked on your door.

“oh fuuuuuuuck—”

you could feel your juices coming out so liquidly fast you would’ve been so embarrassed at it if it was any other sex for you, but it wasn’t and you were now limping out of energy. strikingly different to your boyfriend who you were sure could still hold up another dozen rounds of sex, indicated by the patient pace of him licking your cum and devouring it like the drink to his last supper.

he even still had the guts to suck your swollen clitoris like he wanted to bring you to another orgasm. you swore that tongue—oh fucking hell.

not the fingers coming into play now.

rúben inserted two of his fingers while his thumb supported his tongue, going up and down while his tongue went sideways against the clitoral hood and his other fingers stroked in and out of your insides. you swore you had never heard a raunchier sound than what your boyfriend was currently torturing you with, so wet it became so slick and smooth for his fingers to glide in and out.

“you taste so delicious, meu amor,” you could even feel his smile against the hot skin of yours. the audacity, you groaned inwardly. “give me one more.”

you were now on the edge of consciousness, you could feel it. especially with the way you were slowly but surely spurting in his palms. you really couldn’t to it anymore, for god’s sake.

so you cried in your scream while you were brought down to another earth-shattering high. fuck the bedpost if you succeeded in bending them. “red! red! red!”

gone immediately was your boyfriend from literally every inch of you. you could sense him pulling away from you, and as much as you hated him for pushing you over the edge—quite literally at that—you missed his warmth exuding from his giant body already. it was the only thing that kept you going during the excruciating moments that you just passed with not-so flying colours.

seconds later, you felt the bed dipped on the sides of your head, along with rúben’s hands—gone was the harsh touches too—freeing you from the restrains on your hands. you might have to ask how he could tie something so tight while untangling them so easy.

“I’m going to take off the blindfold now,” you could feel rúben rubbing off your wrists, kissing the insides of them that must’ve gone red by now because of your constant bodily protests against the material of his tie. “please stay with me, meu amor.”

the kisses went down from the insides of your wrists, to your arms, to your temple before it settled down on your lips. which had gotten swollen from his ruthless bites and your attempts to suppress your moans from getting too loud, you were sure of. you then felt his lips touched the sides of your cheeks, simultaneously with his hands cupping your face gently.

his thumb wiped the fresh tears escaping your shut pair of eyes as he whispered against your lips. “me perdõe, minha vida. I’ve pushed you too far.”

you couldn’t respond to his apology because you were still silently crying underneath the blindfold. not because you hated him for pushing you too far—his words, that is—but because you were so relieved it was over this time and you gained back your ever gentle, ever loving boyfriend back.

tonight was only a test from rúben of how far he could take you and how far you could trust him, and you wished to remain that way. tonight only, not more.

“please talk to me, baby,” you could feel him detaching one of his palms from your cheek, before feeling them stroking the top of your head and ended up on the back of your head, where the knot of the blindfold was. “please, I’m so sorry, my love.”

you could feel the material slipping off around your head but you were still gathering your composure and leftover energy before you could face your boyfriend without feeling ashamed. you initially wanted to show him how much you trust him, that your trust never wavered, but you failed. pretty badly at that. it felt like you were the one that was supposed to be apologising.

you could feel your throat getting dry from the endless intake of broken breaths and gasps and moans in between rúben’s relentless ministrations earlier, so you asked for a glass of water before you could embarrass yourself further by producing an ugly screeching noise. rúben immediately dashed for the kitchen, and you utilised the small space of privacy to adjust your eyes to the light dimming in the bedroom.

your earlier suspicion was confirmed—your wrists were very red, your breasts were swollen badly, your thighs were disgustingly wet. not to mention the blue-ish and purple spots trails everywhere from your collarbone to the insides of your thighs. you tried to sit up to see whatever more your boyfriend gifted your skin with, but your body ached everywhere. you could even swear the muscle on your abs were even tenser than the first time you did poundfit.

just as you plopped back your head back to the pillow, resigning from the reality that you wouldn’t be able to be out of bed for the remaining of the weekend, the culprit of all this came back with a glass of water and a mini basket of what you’d like to think as creams. hopefully one of them had the capability to soothe the tense muscles.

“I can’t move, rúben,” you chuckled, feeling ridiculous yourself, as you were handed the quench to your thirst. “please help me get up.”

your boyfriend visibly flinched at the implied information that he had, indeed, pushed you too much over the limit. so selfishly, like you weren’t someone so precious to him. but he collected himself in seconds, dropped everything else to the bedside table, before scooping you in his arms in bridal style as if you weighed nothing more than a stack of paper.

you took the chance to bury your nose on the crook of his neck, wondering how the hell his signature smell could still stay on despite being sweaty the past hours. it shouldn’t be fair, you thought, while your boyfriend sat down on the bed, leaning against the bedpost he tangled yourself to earlier, with you in his arms still.

by the looks of it, he didn’t have the desire to let go of you. he almost lost you in less than 15 minutes ago, mind you.

“are you comfortable now?” and you could only nod in your position, cradled like a fine china by your favourite giant. he took it as a sign to fetch back the glass of water he brought for you, guessing you must’ve been very perched from voicing your exasperations being held back. “what else do you need, baby? tell me.”

this time you shook your head as you downed the clear liquid, while rúben’s hands were both drawing circles on the top of your hip and on the side of your thigh respectively, in hope it could further relax you. he certainly wasn’t lying when he said the last words—he was on that level of sorry he would do anything for you this instant.

but he knew you weren’t one to jump into the water when given the opportunity. at least, materialistically.

“please stop saying sorry, big guy,” this time was your turn to hold the side of his face, directing them so you could see him eye to eye. “I want this too, remember?”

“but still—”

“okay then, you’re forgiven,” you said, but the widening smile on your face signalled him you had something else up in your sleeve. “but you have to carry me everywhere because I really think I can’t walk.”

and he truly stood by his words, for he carried you bridal style everywhere you wanted until the weekend ended. despite being embarrassed on some locations—your favourite baker down the block laughed at the sight when you told rúben you were craving for her sourdough—you weren’t complaining. you were confident that he’d always love you like this.

[greedyhoneyz]

What’s Mine Is Yours — part one 

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･pairing: kylian mbappé x reader

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: expensive gifts are a must for an expensive girl.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･cw: fluff. reader is spoiled. 

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ final notes: decided to make this into a short series, inside of writing about one specific day due to the way i wrote this. but enjoy!

“I love you.” Her dulcet yet feathery voice played like a melody in Kylian’s ear. It soothed his heart and tickled the butterflies in his stomach as he strung his fingers across her spine. He watched her diligently, examining her delicate features, her breath breezing against his face. Whilst she beamed up at him, bliss shimmering in her eyes, squeezing him tight. She pulled Kylian in closer, her affectionate gaze strung on his lips as they twisted, left and right.

“J’ai quelque chose pour toi.” (I have something for you.) Kylian was gentle, doting with (name), pecking her forehead as he slowly pulled away from her tight grasp.

“What?” Her words trailed breathlessly on her tongue as Kylian stepped back, pulling his arms behind his back. She eyed him closely, her brows furrowing together and intertwined her fingers together.

“Donne-moi une seconde.” (Give me a second.) Kylian held up his finger, urging (name) to wait before disappearing into his bedroom closet.

There were a few seconds of silence, then another few seconds of Kylian rummaging before he called out. “Ferme tes yeux!” (Close your eyes.)

(name) retorted quickly. “Pourquoi?” (Why?)

“Fais-le juste!” (Just do it!)

Mumbling under her breath, (name) slowly closed her eyes and waited, swaying quietly in the still air. She could hear Kylian’s footsteps grow closer and closer till he stopped, his dark figure blowing a shadow over her eyelids. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the foot of his bed, and helped her sit.

“Puis-je ouvrir les yeux maintenant?” (Can I open my eyes now?)

“No.”

Peering down at the bag dangling from the tips of his fingers, Kylian smiled. He lifted it, it’s shuffling catching (name) off guard.

“Kylian, qu'est-ce que c'est?!” (Kylian, what is that?!) She sputtered nervously, flinching.

“Calme-toi,” (Calm down,) Kylian cackled, slowly placing the shopping bag on (name’s) lap. “Là. Vous pouvez ouvrir les yeux maintenant.” (There. You can open your eyes now.)

“Êtes-vous sûr?” (Are you sure?) (name) fidgeted anxiously.

“Oui.”

Kylian observed quietly as (name’s) eyes hesitatingly fluttered open. She peered at him from between her lashes before slowly averting her gaze to her lap.

“What’s this?” (name) queried curiously.

Slowly, she reached into the shopping bag and sifted through the piles of tissue paper funnelled to the top, unveiling a gift box. She lifted it carefully, her eyebrows raised.

Kylian could feel his heart explode with pride at the glint of realisation leisurely sparkling in (name’s) eyes as she read over the words etched on the box. She blinked, reading the words over again and again and again, sounding out each syllable without a word escaping her mouth until it finally felt right.

Raising her head, her mouth agape, (name) leapt onto her feet, her eyes gleaming with joy as she proceeded to shriek from the top of her lungs. “Ah!”

She bounced around in circles for a few brief seconds, her gift tightly locked in her arms and launched onto Kylian. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Est-ce que tu vas l'ouvrir?” (Are you going to open it?)

(name) paused, realization hanging over her face, and slowly dropped her legs from around Kylian’s waist. “Oh.” She gaped.

It was quick for (name) to find herself back at the foot of her boyfriend’s bed with him beside her as her hands tenderly caressed the leering box on her lap.

Shuffling in her seat on Kylian’s bed, her thighs pressed together, (name) slowly cuffed her fingers around the top of the box and lifted it. Placing the box behind her, she glanced inside the black box and began fiddling through the neatly folded black tissue papers. She merely blinked at the card signed to her, before blowing a gentle breath once her eyes landed on the black dust bag.

Like a child on Christmas day, (name) gleamed with warmth and childlike glee. Her eyes twinkled with fascination, her mouth curved into a smile as she loosened the dust bag, practically frothing at the mouth and steadily lifted her bag.

“Do you like it?” Kylian knew it was useless asking such a question after the rollercoaster of emotions (name) performed just moments before. However, it would have satisfied his ego to hear her tender voice say yes.

Sharply turning to Kylian, (name) beamed. She reached out towards him, climbed onto her knees, and wrapped her arm around his neck. She gawked at him, blinking aimlessly and caught him off as she pressed her lips against his.

They sat still together, enmeshed in their bubble of love before (name) pulled away, Kylian love-struck and swollen. “I love it.”

[blueaetherr]

Can i request richarlison where he spoils her so much xx🫠

in thought of you

pairing: richarlison x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): none

summary: the one where richarlison spoils the reader in more ways than one

Richarlison has always been a giving person. It was something in his nature, in his person, something naturally of custom to him. And he enjoyed it—the giving part of things—because he knew he wouldn't be letting go of it any time soon seeing as he loved it so much. He associated giving with two kinds of people: those in need and those he loved the most. And Y/N, his partner, was just one of those people he loved the most.

And this part of Richarlison was most prominent in their relationship, towards Y/N, appearing in a few ways.

At first it came through as rather materialistic. He had the money, the resources and everything else one needed, why would he not cash out on her? He bought her the world: they spent their time searching for her choice of clothes, he was open yet careful when picking out her jewellery, so much so that she was soon drowning in luxury and prestige.

"They reminded me of you," he would say, every time he brought back the finest necklace, every time the two passed by an item and Richarlison knew he had to get it for his partner, every time his mom spoke highly about a certain item of clothing or jewellery. And he would say it all with the kindest smile one would ever see.

And Y/N would return the smile and say, "Thank you," because she was grateful. For how he chose to spend on her, for how he always had her in mind even when he went out shopping for himself. For how he let her feel herself in such glamorous wear, for his efforts to make her happy. For that, she was grateful. But it became too much for her; too flashy and far out of her comfort zone sometimes, so he had to switch it up.

Then there came the flowers; the gift offering simple presence and kindness. Richarlison gave them to Y/N whenever he could, the ones his mom kept in her assorted garden or the ones he always noticed walking past the local florist. Whenever they went out and he saw a flower, laying perfect and pretty, he would pick it up and personally hand it to Y/N. When he knew he would be gone for a few days for a match, he would have flowers, far delicate and dressed, delivered to their place.

"These reminded me of you," he would say or message, every time he brought back a bouquet or two home, every time he picked up that random flower off the side of the street, every time he had her favourite flowers, in her favourite colour too, delivered home. And he would say it with a smile, one rather favouring his nerves, considering that offering flowers wasn't his initial way of giving.

And she would say, "Thank you," nonetheless. She always loved the flowers, personally. For their pretty appearance, for their delightful smell, and for how Richarlison associated them with her. For how determined he was to get a flower even if it was really out of reach; he always made the effort for her, regardless of the challenge that came with it. She remained grateful for his will to give. But, soon enough, it became too much for both of them.

Not enough room in the house to place the flowers, not enough space in the garden to plant them. Not enough space in the kitchen or rooms to place them, bringing in too many insects and causing her allergies to act up. This one, Richarlison was reluctant to switch up—flowers grew to be his favourite item to give his partner. But for their best interests, he chose to switch it up.

Finally, there was the quality time. Now this one, when he could, Richarlison spoilt her with a lot of this and so much more. The mornings spent in bed, the afternoons cleaning the house together with spirits and music high. The evenings playing football in the backyard for the thrill and fun of it all, the days he would wait on her until she came back from a late night out.

And Y/N would say, "Thank you." In fact, she had more to present than just a thank you (even though Richarlison thought it was more than enough). She would hug him, kiss him and do everything she had to offer him (how could she not when he always managed to give her the world)? For the times he pulled her back into bed, for the times when they were belting song lyrics on their off days. For the times he waited up for her after a night out, for the times he chose to hang out with her over his friends. And there was no criticism to any of it; in simple, she was grateful.

In her eyes, in all ways was Richarlison spoiling her, gifting her, giving to her. Through the materials, through the flowers, through the quality time. And she loved them, she appreciated it all equally. Because whether he chose to spoil her in one way or another, at the end of the day, they reminded me of you, these reminded me of you, this reminded me of you—he did everything in thought of her, and that was enough for Y/N to be reassured in their relationship.

[co6kiesvr]

do you write for neymar? if so can you please do one where he’s jealous and they fight and sleep in separate rooms and he comes back and it’s fluffy after

maybe i do like them touching me. at least they actually pay attention to me.hi love! sure!!

genre: angst to fluff

quick a/n: this was written in spanish, i didn't know he mainly speaks portuguese! im so so sorry!!

┍━━━━━━━━━━ ⚽ ━━━━━━━━━━┑

you and neymar’s friends were actually quite close, at first they didn’t really like you. but now, you were all great friends

in neymar’s view, you might have been a little too great. don’t get him wrong, he likes that his friends like you and there aren’t any problems between you two. but, sometimes he wished you weren’t that close

today was the day he finally snapped, you were with his friends, laughing and joking around. it was all okay at first, until they began touching you. one touching your shoulder, the other your arm, one of them touched your hair too

who the hell told them they were allowed to touch what’s his?

“mi amor, tenemos que irnos, ahora.” neymar said as he held your hand tightly (my love, we have to go, now.)

“what—but, por qué? Paso algo?” you said, furrowing your eyebrows as he began pulling you away even harder (why? did something happen?)

“we’re leaving.” was all he said as his friends stared at you two, confused, while you were feeling the embarrassment taking over

he pulled you away outside to the car, putting you inside, himself, then driving away.

the drive was completely silent, not one of you uttered a single word.

once you got home, you were quick to leave the car before him, and go to your room where you sat there quietly

he followed you into the room, staring at you for a second before speaking up

“what, you’re not gonna talk to me now?” he said, “i had no choice! you were certainly having fun with all of them touching you”

“you cannot be fucking serious right now!” you yelled, “me estabas mirando todo el tiempo, and now you’re jealous? you never trust me! you act like i'll cheat on you opr something!” you snapped (you were glaring at me the entire time)

“i wasn’t glaring at you, i was glaring at them! it’s like you were their girlfriend, not mine. y no les estabas diciendo exactamente que se detuvieran ahora verdad” he yelled back (and you weren't exactly telling them to stop now were you)

“what are you trying to say. hm? that i like your friends touching me even if i don’t want them to?! you know what? tal vez me gusta que me toquen. al menos en realidad me prestan atención.” you said, (maybe i do like them touching me. at least they actually pay attention to me.

“oh, now i don’t pay attention to you? okay, have fun getting the attention from them. buenas noches” he said as he walked out and went into the guest bedroom (goodnight)

“good, i will” you yelled as he walked away

and now here you were, lying awake in bed, trying to stop the tears from flowing. he had a right to be jealous, but he didn't have a right to act like you were enjoying it. he was always like this and you were sick of it, you're sick of him not trusting you. it hurts you when you feel like he doubts you.

you were so caught up with your thoughts you didn't realize the door was open now, you felt the bed sink, and stayed quiet.

"mi amor? are you still awake?" he said, "lo siento, Sé que no harías algo así. i was just stressed and barely seeing you was making it worse, especially if i see you with them more than i see you with me." (im sorry, i know you wouldn't do anything like that)

"i don't like it when they touch me, i only like it when you do it" you spoke up

"why didn't you tell me, cariño?" (sweetheart)

"you like your friends, i didn't want to ruin anything between you"

"you're better than all of them, querida" he smiled and hugged you tight, you turned and faced him, and he was quick to pull you close

"te amo, mi vida" he said as he leaned his forehead on yours (i love you, my life)

[footballffbarbiex]

Is it too late to request Ruben Dias with baby daddy ‘pumpkin picking’ please? Maybe you’re all out picking with your eldest child & heavily pregnant with the second. Ruben gets a bit sassy and reader threatens to attach a pumpkin to Ruben (like the viral watermelon videos of dads-to-be having them taped to them) and he soon goes back to being fluffy?

from this list.

sorry this is a bit later than planned, but i hope you like it!

-

each step brings a low, dull ache in your lower back and a splintering pain across your hips which only slows you down further than the waddle that you're now doing. it doesn't make it any easier with the ground now drenched from the last few nights rainfall and your feet threaten to slip out from beneath you with each squelchy step. even as you cart the wheelbarrow which helps to keep you the right way up.

Rúben walks ahead with your daughter, both of them managing to stay upright better than you, though she is supported by her daddy. her wellington boots have a thick layer of sludge going up past the rubber soles like a thick layer of icing upon a birthday cake. but he makes sure that she never falls, that even when she begins to lose her footing, that he's right there to give her her confidence back as he helps her regain her balance. she looks so small next to him and yet, she was growing up far too quickly. everything, physically, about her was Rúben and it made it far too easy for him to sweet talk you into having another baby.

he had promised that the first weekend when they were both available, he would take her pumpkin picking. she'd seen pictures from her friend's and acknowledged her jealousy, asking repeatedly why they were able to go but she wasn't. Rúben hated to see his little girl upset, especially for something that was so easy to fix.

several other families mill around, some slipping and sliding and no doubt seeing their life flash before their eyes as they begin their downward journey into the dirt. the sun seems brighter, imitating the way winter sun blinds, though it probably doesn't help that it's cutting through a veil of fog which hangs over the fields, leaving the scene before you all to feel incredibly spooky. you half expect to find a scarecrow to be hung up with a pumpkin head carved with a menacing smile as an attraction to take pictures with.

"mummy is a slowpoke," Rúben says loud enough for you to be able to hear, deliberately turning his head to ensure it reaches you as far back as you are. she giggles, betraying you in the process, and begins to chant "slowpoke" as she bends over to examine a pumpkin before deciding that it's not the one for her.

"come on mummy," he laughs as he begins to run in slow motion, "lets have a race, see if she can catch us." he says, encouraging the mini version of himself. she eagerly agrees, traitor, and begins to mimic him while squealing "catch us mummy" over and over.

Rúben's happy smile quickly disappears as he catches your expression and he gulps as you approach.

"what was that?"

"nothing," he feigns innocence.

"daddy says you're slow." your daughter says as she approaches with a small, but to her a large, pumpkin in her hands. it's dirty, the mud clings to her small hands but she looks super proud of her find as she rolls it into the wheelbarrow.

"keep speaking like that honey," you say, your words dripping with sweetness as you give him a smile just as sickly, "and you'll find yourself picking out an extra large pumpkin to strap to your stomach while i zap you with a TENS machine to see how a tiny bit of this feels."

"that sounds like fun." he grimaces, "but i'll, respectfully, pass. hey sugarplum, do you want to show me those big muscles of yours and maybe help mummy push this wheelbarrow while i help her walk along?" he asks, squatting down to her level and using a calming voice.

she immediately lifts her arms to flex her biceps and show that she's capable of it while he steps to your side and wraps an arm around your lower back.

"good choice Dias, good choice."

[damiansgoodgirll]

princess treatment erling Haaland headcanons

my favorite viking is back!

erling haaland x reader

princess treatment

he would spoil you

and when i say spoil you, i mean spoil you

he would bring you breakfast in bed every single morning he was at home

he would buy you flowers

he would cook dinner for you, knowing how much you love his cooking

he would massage your shoulders if he knew you had a bad day

he would gently stroke your hair before you fall asleep

he loves holding you while you sleep

he usually would be the big spoon, your head over his chest or in the crook of his neck, his hands around your waist keeping you close to him

he loves giving you soft kisses before you fall asleep

he loves waking up first and watching you sleep, he always said that you looked like an angel

when there’s some football event, he makes sure to bring you with him

he loves having you by his side, he loves the way you support him

you’re always at his matches wearing his jersey

and for thanking you for being there, he usually gets some chocolate from the store, knowing how much you love chocolate and candies

you would have a date every time he was at home

it didn’t matter if you would go out for dinner or if you cooked something at home, just staying together was enough for you

he always lets you pick a movie to watch

he’s not a huge rom-com fan but he doesn’t care what you’re watching if you are together, he would just hold you when your sat on the couch and would watch the movie with you

as i said before, he loves spoiling you

there are times where he bought you a very expensive necklace and you didn’t know what to say

you definitely weren’t expecting that

but now you would wear that necklace everytime there was an important event, showing to erling how much you loved the gift

and he would look at you with dreamy eyes, because for him, you were the best thing that has ever walked on earth

[azulera]

Bisous

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Black Reader

Summary: 5 different ways that Kylian gives you kisses.

Notes: this is 1 of my favorite things i've ever written I think! qué emoción. Gentle feedback is very welcome + ao3 link

————————————————————————

I.

You have a life of your own, and a busy one too, but you always make time for small moments with your lover - a trip to the café, or a night at the cinema. What was small before, with Kylian, suddenly swells to the size of France, the size of Europe, to the size of the world. You’re unpleasantly reminded while waiting in line for a ticket to a 10pm show, and standing impossibly close to each other to brave the weather. The Parisian chill brings out his chivalry, so your hands rest in the pockets of his own jacket.

You look up into your boyfriend’s face colored by streetlights, at his lips gone slightly chapped in the wind and want to kiss them smooth, but think twice, knowing unfriendly eyes and cameras are always watching. It’s as if he can read your thoughts in your eyes, though, as he instead presses a kiss onto your hair that has gone even curlier with the chill. You pretend you can feel the heat of it traveling through your head, down to your chest and all throughout your body. When you see the flash of a phone camera, you go cold, turning and hiding your face in the wall of his chest. When the lights turn to voices, questions, and yells, you begin to pull away, but his hand finds yours and squeezes. The ticket line moves and he is diplomatic, talking his way out of a crowd all while his other arm weighs solid across your shoulders. You hold so tight to his fingers, you think you might break them. But he never lets go.

II.

At family dinners at chez Mbappé, French and English and Arabic blend and blur, and yet everyone is understood. You are even introduced to a cousin, with whom you and Kylian can flex your well-practiced Spanish. Over bowls of salad and rice and stew, conversations, jokes and memories fly and land and a picture comes into focus: in each of his loved ones a piece of the puzzle that makes him who he is, plus that special, unnameable thing that drew you to him in the first place. In the warmth of their presence, that thing grows and blossoms into its fullest form, stress and responsibilities shedding away until only a playful joy is left. Soon you fall under this spell, too, chatting with the adults and playing games with the children, both by his side and on your own. The fullness in your heart at what this means leaks out through your smiles, which come and stay until your face hurts too much from laughing.

What you see shining in his eyes over your dessert napkin later in the night almost frightens you with its tenderness. There are no words to describe what he wants to say, and this is no place for grand gestures, but the silent press of his lips against the back of your hand says a million words, in all of the languages you both speak.

III.

On rides home after a match, whether thrilling win or crushing loss, Kylian is defeated. He slumps into the backseat like a man twice his age, having given the most youthful part of himself to the grass and dirt glowing beneath stadium lights. You, instead, vibrate with energy, adrenaline surging so much from watching along that even your brown cheeks mimic the red stripes on his jersey. So, the two of you meet somewhere in the middle. Seatbelts are forgotten, his head rests on your chest, and your arms circle his back while you wait for your heartbeats to reach a common level.

When his lips latch on to your neck in the dark of the car, you know they are only kisses for kissing’s sake. They are a promise, a reminder, a shadow of a desire hindered only by an exhaustion that permeates his bones. So, you hold him up, enjoying the feeling, and letting him know so, fingers dragging gently along the nape of his neck. Tomorrow he will be bright and buzzing again, but for now he is a gentle giant, calm and docile as a baby, a warm weight between your arms. If he leaves marks to be found in the morning, you know what they will really mean is “thank you”.

IV.

In the mornings, you hear his voice before you see his face, and it is low and rich and as sweet to your ears as a song. His body is soft and warm beside yours in the breaking sunlight, yet he pulls you closer, hands reaching for your golden skin as if you were the sun itself.

“Ma fille d’or,” He calls you, breathing in your scent with his nose between your neck and shoulder. “I have to go.”

“Je sais.” You speak with your eyes closed. “Do you want me to get up with you?”

“Non, just stay there, just as you are. Tu est vraiment belle, tu sais?"

“J’ai entendu ça déjà, oui.”

He laughs, so close to your face you can feel the vibration, and then his lips, against your cheeks, eyelids, nose and chin. Tickling you, teasing you, and making you miss him already. You are so swept up you hardly notice when he’s stopped. You open your eyes to his apologetic, smiling face.

“A bientôt, mon amour.”

“A bientôt.”

“Au revoir.”

“Au revoir.”

He is making leaving harder than it has to be, but a final kiss on your bare shoulder makes it softer. He leaves to go get ready for training, and you turn over in bed slowly, carefully. If you don’t ruffle the sheets too much, and stay very still, you can close your eyes and imagine he’s still there.

V.

On empty evenings in your bedroom, where it is the two of you alone, your affection for each other is no longer burdened by place or time. Here, you could kiss him for hours and he would not get tired, and he is as persistent and insatiable as he is on the pitch. Whether you are on top of him, beneath him, or beside him is no matter - the sinews of his body are agile as they bend to you, your mouths drawn to each other as if by magnets behind your teeth.

Here, his kisses punctuate his needs and wants: “Non”, “Oui”, “Look at me”, “Don’t stop”, and you learn to identify his desires by their pressure. There are deep kisses, him swallowing all the sounds you make, and shallow pecks that force more sound out of you, but in each variation there is something the same. Three words, one phrase, whispered, shouted, and cursed, before, during, and after. He speaks them into your open mouth, one time in French, in Spanish, in English, and you think that no lips have ever uttered anything more beautiful. You are breathless, cradled in his strong arms, and lost in his eyes when, one by one, you kiss them back into his.

[football-and-fanfics]

Intimidated - Mason Mount

Who: Mason Mount Prompt: "That's bullshit." Requested by: anonymous Warnings: mentions of intimidating crowd, threats, angst.

It was your first time attending one of Mason's matches since he had made his transfer to Manchester United. You had never been to Old Trafford before, so you were looking forward to getting to know the place.

It was an enjoyable afternoon. Manchester United won easily, with Mason playing a good match and even providing an assist. You were about to leave after the match, when a small group of other attendants recognized you as Mason's girlfriend and started giving you shit for it.

The group of young men came way too close to you for comfort, very much invading your personal space. They didn't touch you, but you felt threatened all the same at being outnumbered by so many. Their hissed comments of you being ugly and dumb, made you tremble with fear.

Luckily, one of the stadium's security guards quickly caught on to the situation and intervened, guiding you away from the group and inside.

"Are you alright, miss?" The guard asked once you were safely back inside, handing you a glass of water and offering you a seat. You nodded weakly, but were still trembling with fear. "Would you like me to fetch Mr. Mount?" The guard clearly knew who you were, too. "Yes, please," you answered meekly.

It was only a few minutes later, when Mason rushed in and dropped to his knees in front of where you sat. "Are you alright?" He took your hands in his and you heard the panic in his voice. "Did they hurt you?" "No." You shook your head, although tears now spilled from your eyes. Mason sighed in relief. "Oh, thank god. They told me you had a run-in with a crowd and I thought you were injured." "It was just words." Your voice broke a little. "They were going on about how I'm dumb and ugly." "That's bullshit!" Mason immediately replied. "I know, but..." You sniffled softly. "I was scared."

"Come here." Mason spread his arms and invited you into a hug. You didn't need asking twice and flung yourself into his arms.

Mason wrapped his arms firmly around you, and finally you felt safe and at ease again. Because with his strong arms around you, the warmth of his body against yours, and his softly whispered words of comfort in your ear, you knew nothing could hurt you anymore.

Tags: @stonesyyyy, @footballffbarbiex, @football1921, @laurasstufff1, @juliabrghs, @ella33

Request an imagine | Add me to the tags list Mason Mount imagine | General masterlist

[highdreaming]

Toxic Jealousy

💢 All the works are pure fictions, for entertainment purposes only so please, read it at your own will.

Summary: Jude is always too jealous and you get tired of it.

Find more at: Masterlist

Jude Bellingham x (female) reader

AN: Please like, reblog and give me feedback!

--

“Okay, so tell me who’s that guy again?” Jude repeats and you groan, throwing your hands to the air.

“Jude, I told you a million times. He’s a classmate. From college. That’s it.” you cross your arms, looking at Jude. 

Your boyfriend has never been good when it comes to being jealous, creating impossible and very imaginary scenarios to get jealous, when in reality he has no reason to be.

It has been going on for a while now, but you’re getting more and more exhausted of his actions. 

Jude squints his eyes at you, analyzing your facial features as if trying to figure out if you’re indeed telling the truth. 

“And why did he give you a ride back home? I told you I’d come pick you up, didn’t I?” he returns the question after a second. Frustration grows inside you and you release a sigh. 

“And I’ve told you that I lost battery on my phone therefore I couldn’t warn you that I didn’t have class and was getting home much earlier. All he did was offer me a ride and I took it.” your voice breaks on the last word, all the frustration getting replaced with exasperation and sadness and your eyes start to shine with tears, your throat constricted with emotion.

“Why do you have to be so jealous all the time? I can’t even have friends without you being suspicious all the time and it’s getting so tiring. I’m so done with this.” 

Your outburst shocks Jude, who stands there with his mouth agape. He quickly regains himself, jumping towards you and wrapping his arms around you. 

“Ah, shit. Babe, I didn’t mean it, okay? I swear I trust you, I fucking do.” he presses a kiss to your forehead, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet.

Jude rushes to swipe his fingers underneath your eyes, cleaning all the spilled tears. 

“I’m so sorry, I just get scared that someone will try to steal you away from me, you know? Because you’re way too good for me and I know it. I promise I’ll contain the jealous side inside me from now on, okay?” he begs, giving you an apologetic smile. 

You sniff, nodding. You only hope he’ll keep his word. 

--------

[oh-saints]

Hi I don’t know if you’ll get this but I have an idea for Rúben Dias, he starrs crushing on the female photographer for Man City and his teammates start teasing him, he doesn’t want to admit his feelings because he thinks the photographer is dating someone ( but she’s actually single and is just introverted)

aaaaahh this feels close to home bcs i'd gotten mistaken so many times by men due to my introvert nature /sigh

silent

rúben should really stop interpreting things out of hand on his own and start asking the right questions instead.

rúben dias x photographer!you

wc: 2.7k

note: here's is my comback piece! (is that even a valid word?) i actually had this idea in mind for a while and i love writing this bcs i can see he could make this kind of cute mistake! this actually hits closer to home, too, considering that i'm an intovert as well LOL but as usual, I happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet.

happy new year too, everyone! i wish you'll have a blessed year ahead <3

“cupcakes!”

you groaned inwardly, that must be jack grealish. only the 100-million man would call you with overly sweet pet names like that, and he did it so often no matter how many times you corrected him that you had a real name during the first month of your employment here. now entering your third month, you’ve long given up, but you’d renamed his contact to be jack greasy on your phone.

“come sit over with us!”

unlike your nickname, though, you hadn’t given up on his persistent request to sit amongst his set of friends because good lord could they be so boisterous their laughter sounded more like a boom in your ears sometimes. their energy simply went off the roof and your introvert self could never handle it well.

you’d have your time to photograph everyone in the bus later anyway, so you gave him a polite smile, without another word, and proceeded to sit down beside your fellow media team.

you could hear jack screaming protest “aw, come on, cupcakes!” as you took your seat. his friends were laughing on his face at your rejection.

if you have your way, though, you’d badly want to be assigned to the calmer tide of the bus. the likes of julian, kevin, bernardo were more suitable for your kind. but being the one responsible for the disposable camera and all of city’s short off-pitch videos, jack and his circus were more than a matchmade in heaven for a better result.

before you had more complaints to mull over, your colleagues turned to face you and started babbling about an upcoming short video the both of you would have to make. the plot, the script, down to deciding who’d be best to be asked for to star in the video.

“i think rúben dias would do just fine.”

being a newbie, you nodded along the names he mentioned because in all honesty, you didn’t exactly know who is who and which is which until now. two months splattered all over the men’s and the women’s team, as well as the academy, was pretty much a guarantee you’d missed out on someone.

but you always, no matter how busy you are, spared some time to browse on the player before you met them, in case it was someone you should be worried for, or someone you should be thankful of for their media-darling persona, or someone you should be working twice as hard because they didn’t know what to do. worse, someone you’d worked together before but you forgot.

for rúben dias, though… you didn’t know which one of the categories above fitted him best. you were rendered speechless at your search bar result. you could bet your entire month salary that he was someone you had yet the chance to create a content together because if he already did, you wouldn’t have that face of his wiped off your brain.

which was exactly why you should be worried.

you had never worked with someone that looks like adonis when he decides to ascend himself from olympus. or so you’d like to think rúben was what adonis would’ve looked like if greek mythology happens to be true.

sadly, nobody warned you that he was even more beautiful up close, as he strutted his way to your creator team, with a tousled hair he kept tussling against, as well as the bright smile and warm laugh he’d drop here as he went through pre-production brief. his voice was so melodic it soothed all the soreness to your eardrums—thanks to jack grealish—in one simple video production, and you mentally thought you could replay the edited video later whenever you needed to go to sleep, like an asmr or some sort, because it really felt like a blanket on a rainy day.

your heart ached at the sight because my goodness… he was simply too beautiful for your own good.

it shouldn’t be doing all that jumping and leaping and drumming, though, because those were the early signs of you getting biased.

and it could only mean one thing in every professional language possible: bad.

with your very generous pay check on the line, you couldn’t afford to fail. so that day, you made a promise to yourself to do what you had to do, and thankfully it was what your introvert self do best.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

while you knew what to do, rúben—on the contrary—seemed lost.

no, the portugese was lost.

contrary to popular belief, footballers are actually smart. at least, if they are not book smart, they’re definitely street smart. rúben would like to think he’s got a bit of both worlds, so it could justify his own judgement of you.

his eyes were keen, as his job required him to do so, and he’s got an incredible sensing, enough to read a gigantic elephant in the room when there was one. the combination scanned your change in attitude on the day he first worked with you and the present time.

you were so friendly and eager to work with him, welcoming his extended hand as he introduced himself to you for the first time. he remembered your smile, blinding against the bleak manchester weather but instead of feeling cold, he only felt warmth and fuzzy all over his body.

but as the filming session went on, your smile was close to non-existent, just like the probability of the two of you running into each other again. he initially thought it was only because you got so many takes already and the job exhausted you, but he later realised you were avoiding him. as subtle as you could anyway.

at the beginning, he only thought you missed the way he waved at you. or the time when he thought you put his row of seat last for a mandatory picture in your disposable camera, for aesthetics’ sake.

the time when he offered you a ride home, though—that was the final confirmation. the weather had started snowing on some days, and you were certainly freezing by the look of your shivering shoulders and teetering teeth, so rúben offered you a ride home. but you turned down the offer, ever so politely like usual. yes, yes of course you had the rights but the most logical thing was to accept them instead of waiting for the next bus, no?

(oh, believe him, he knew she was waiting. he managed to parked far away from your sight but close enough to see that you did indeed wait for the next bus to arrive and take you to the nearest station. he knew, and he remembered that day because it was the only day he had to fight himself from running down the street just to give you another layer of coat.)

his first instinct was to think that he’d wronged you somehow during the filming. was he demanding? was he not up to your par of filming standard? was he not good enough for your cameras?

but james, your fellow co-worker, the one who worked together with you for this project, gave him an utterly confused look. “have you seen how the videos turned out? you were brilliant, rúben. and no, i don’t think i’ve heard any concerns from her about your ethics.”

so what did he still not do right that could’ve upset you?

rúben didn’t like where this was going because you’ve kept him intrigued. you kept him on his toes, bouncing lightly like a child full of curiosity. you kept him thirsty for more information about you and what makes you tick, lowkey in hope to bring out the smile rúben himself didn’t know he had missed seeing.

and if he discovered that he did indeed upset you somehow, and was somehow responsible for the disappearance of your shy smile, then he’d like to right them right away. he has to.

with that mentality, rúben took the chance to clock out earlier—which was like the seventh wonder of the world around etihad academy—in order to catch a glimpse of you on your off-work routine. he’d set himself resolved to only ask necessary questions, not more nor less, without any hidden agenda. no wishy washy, unlike his previous trials.

rúben did actually catch you for a split second. his beak was already opening, he’d only needed his voice box to produce the sound to the question in his mind, but the scene unravelled before him halted everything in him. every particle of his body, every molecule of his brain.

a black car swerved into the lane to the lobby, a pretty prestigious car at that, and the way your face lit up so brightly reminded him of the day you first worked together. it was a sight that rúben missed, it was a sight that rúben longed to see again.

he was so blinded by the ethereal view that he completely forgot his own plan, and watched as the black car swallowed his portion of small happiness of the day.

was that your boyfriend? if yes, then did you take rúben’s friendliness as a romantical advance to you? if yes, then was that the reason why you immediately put up a china wall between you two? if yes, then was he that protective or was he simply possessive?

rúben couldn’t deny his own infatuation of you. maybe it was why he was adamant to right things good between the two of you. but if you did in fact have a boyfriend, then he should find a way to reduce and silence this growing feeling—be it really infatuation or merely curiosity.

“does she have a boyfriend?”

but desperate times need desperate measures, and rúben saw ‘the black car incident’ was his sign to speed things up in order to find a concrete answer. even if it included asking jack grealish about you.

jack snorted, rather snobby. “how would i know, mate?”

“i thought you guys are close.”

“your definition of close is concerning,” jack replied as he shut his locker. “why don’t you ask her yourself? aren’t you the type to just charge at it first, think later?”

“i would’ve if she didn’t give me a cold shoulder.”

“have you tried?”

rúben was the one who didn’t hold back his snort this time. “of course i did.”

“then maybe you were asking the wrong question, mate.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

as much as rúben hated to confess that jack actually had a point, he had to give hands down. he might be asking the wrong question, he might be asking too much question, he might be asking the right question with the wrong approach.

bottom line, he’d concluded himself that he had to try until he succeeded. each time in different approach, different variables. logically speaking, it should take him somewhere for a clue. if it didn’t, it should at least tire you enough to have you spell the answer to his queries.

rúben had gathered enough information that you and your team had wrapped up filming for christmas and new year’s content, complete with kids involved and all. you were supposed to stay in the editing room, and working late on it because there was a teaser—which fell into your line of work under “short videos”—to be uploaded tomorrow evening.

he purposefully slowed his pace for anything that did not require physical activities and trainings, resulting in him also staying late to finish some of his homework—his affectionate nickname for video trainings he’d like to execute at home, in the comfort of his abode and plush suede pillows—so he could match your pace of work. he planned to catch you off guard the same way as ‘the black car’ incident.

at 8, you finally went out of your cave, precisely like his little rat had informed him before. so of course, you were startled to find rúben already standing against the railing in front of your office.

“rúben,” your voice got stuck in your throat but rúben thought it was a cute squeak. it was also a better response, rúben thought, too. you could’ve spat at him or shooed him away immediately. “what are you doing here?”

“i’m—” rúben thought about lying for a second, but he decided it’d contribute nothing to a start of a friendship. yes, friendship, because it was the bare minimum, no? “i’m waiting for you.”

your eyes widened, and that was when rúben noticed the golden specks on the orbs of your eyes. heartbreakingly stunning, solely because rúben only noticed this now.

you shifted the weight of your body from your right leg to your left one, and rúben found it endearing because he noticed that was an early sign an introvert—you, in this case—was starting to get nervous or uncomfortable. rúben hoped it was the former because that’d put you as cute as an awkward lone penguin.

“is there anything i can help you with?”

“yes, i’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

with his devastatingly beautiful look, his velvet voice and his intensely deep brown eyes, your heart palpitated so fast and so irregular that you were afraid rúben could see them falling and getting back into its designated place like a bungee jumper.

or maybe the rope snapped on its way down and never found its way up again, depending on the question about to be fired at you. at this point, your mind went funnily white, and you were ready to succumb into either pressure or temptation, depending on the question he’d fire you with.

“do you hate me?”

you seemed perplexed at his blatant question, but he’d take that reaction over anything else because it was something, especially compared to the invisible wall you’d put up since the first time you both had worked together.

“do you?” rúben pressed his voice gently, while he took a step closer to you. slowly but assertively.

the movement snapped you back to reality. you should not heed into pressure, but there was no use in lying because in reality, you really had no reason to hate him. if you had your chance, you would’ve done things the other way around.

“no, i don’t.”

another step closer. “but have you ever hated me?”

realising the 6-feet centre back was doing, you involuntarily moved backwards in the same amount of steps that he did, albeit the distance reached was certainly and significantly a huge gap you could never keep. “no, rúben—”

before you could finish your sentence, he obliterated every single space left in between the two of you and cornered you to the nearest wall. “then do you like me?”

you should be running, you should be fleeing, you should be screaming down the hill. you should be anywhere but here, trapped in between the long, strong and sturdy pair of his arms, the very same one he used to defend himself and the ball from the opponent. the very same one your eyes couldn’t lie but appreciate its masculinity.

rúben noticed the miniscule movement of your eyes, despite your tightened body language, and it brought a little smile on the corner of his lips. maybe he had indeed asked all the wrong question in all the previous times he’d had the chance.

“tell me,” rúben then pronounced your name in the way no one else could, so soft and velvet like a fine cashmere being caressed against your eardrums, that shivers ran down your entire body as if you were struck by a lightning. “please tell me that, at least.”

so paradoxic, you thought inwardly at the sensation. and you supposedly hated the way he confused you, but you didn’t this time—you didn’t even detest the way he seemed enjoying this whole thing, by the way he pulled of a subtle smirk that busted your knees slowly but surely—and it made you even more crazy because what the hell was this?

you tried to mask it off by looking him straight in the eyes. well, tried to, at least, because the moment your eyes were connected with the milkiest brown orbs that reminded you of a hot chocolate on a wintry day, you couldn’t help but look away. “what do you want me to say?”

rúben didn’t fight a full smile from blooming on his face, as the tip of his finger aligned your face gently to face his. he really likes the fact you gave him a fair fight to remain indifferent still, even when everything else of your body failed to be your auxiliary. “do you like me?”

“i do—”

“then would you like to have a dinner with me tonight?”

[greedyhoneyz]

Trophy Girl

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･pairing: kylian mbappé x reader

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･synopsis: two tales of a trophy girl

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･cw: none. domestic fluff

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･final notes: im a football babe, fulfilling my dreams of being a footballer’s gf

Mon Dieu, elle est tellement belle. (My God, she is so beautiful.)

From the foot of his king-sized bed, where Kylian lay, stood (name). Her silhouette, almost god-like, stood meters from the large mirror pressed against his bedroom wall, a brush in her hand. Its pink bristles scored through her locks, plucking its full curls whilst she watched it bounce back into place.

Flooded with yearning, Kylian shuffled above his sheets, his phone tumbling from his chest. He scooted towards the edge of the bed till his feet were planted on the floor, his hurried ruckus failing to catch the attention of (name).

He extended his arms and tucked himself behind (name), pulling her lower half into him. He curled his arm around her hips and pressed the palm of his hands against her stomach, his cheek pushed against her back.

Through the reflection of his bedroom mirror, (name) froze. Her gaze shifted from her hair to her boyfriend curled by her hip. She smiled softly, dropping her hand from her hair to the back of his head.

She cupped the base of his head, her acrylic nails soothing through his fade.

Kylian glanced up at (name) with a gaze that twinkled with love, his nose nuzzled into her hip as inhaled her delectable scent, bergamot and praline.

Under the roar of Paris, Kylian strode with pride and relief through the pitch. Sweat beaded across his forehead, soiling his football shirt as he blew out a heavy breath, his hands on his hips.

Stood amongst the rows and rows of fans, (name) beamed. She bounced on the heels of her shoes and gripped her phone tightly. Her eyes scored across the pitch, squinting, in search of Kylian.

Kylian clapped to the crowds above, a tired smile hooked to his face as he paced by his teammates, sharing congratulatory hugs and handshakes. The tremor of his heart still resounded through his head.

“Kylian!”

Turning sharply, Kylian caught a glimpse of (name). She hunched over the barriers, alongside security, waving gleefully. She bounced on her feet, the glimmer in her gentle eyes called him.

She raised her arms, her free hand wiggling anxiously as he jogged towards her.

Cupping his cheeks between the palm of her hands, (name) grinned widely. “Tu as gagné!” (You won!)

Kylian chuffed, playfully rolling his eyes. “Bien sûr.” (Of course.)

He wrapped his arms around (name) and lifted her from behind the barriers. Tucking her legs, (name) stilled as Kylian heaved her over the barrier and gently planted her onto the pitch.

(name) cackled maniacally, squirming from the spot where she stood, and swarmed her arms around Kylian’s shoulders, her fingers tenderly caressing the back of his neck.

Kylian beamed affectionately at his girlfriend, watching closely as her body exploded with jubilation. She hopped avidly, her tender bounces hoisting her above Kylian’s head and landing her safely back onto the ground.

Kylian’s triumph, hidden amidst his distant yet relieved gaze, was perfectly painted by the content in (name’s) eyes and the elation that coated her obnoxious laugh and her ascent to the midnight ceiling.

[blueaetherr]

hello, could you do a jude bellingham hot where he wins a final and has a fun night at the hotel with yn. please, kisses from Brazil.

thrill and adventure

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): mentions of drinking

summary: the one where they celebrate jude winning the champions league final by roaming around their hotel

author's note: hi anon, thanks for the request and sorry it took a bit long. i hope you enjoy this one <3

now playing: world on wheels by duckwrth ft. kyle dion

"Say cheese for me."

Looking up away from his phone, Jude noticed Y/N recording a video in the direction of the elevator mirror. His face lit up, happy and animated. Suddenly, the attention he had reserved for the person on the other side of his phone was long gone. For now, and like he always did, he let it fall on his first person, Y/N.

Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he exclaimed, "Cheese!" Seeing as it was a video rather than a picture, Jude let that happiness and animation express themselves through the video. He bared his teeth through his flourishing smiles, stretching the words as he spoke to his partner, waving his arms with so much spirit and throwing up a peace sign every now and then. He was doing the most and all within reason. 

Jude had managed to win the Champions League final with his dear club, a win that now came before any other win, major or small, that he'd ever achieved before. The happiness, the joy, the relief, the satisfaction of winning—they were colourful and voluminous, so much more than he had ever experienced before in his career, in his life even.

It was all so overwhelming and the only right way to contain it all was to do the exact opposite; Jude would express all his caved feelings in the moment and let them out for everyone to experience for themselves.

Her phone long put away, she let her eyes fall on the medal Jude was wearing. "I'm proud of you, y'know," Y/N placed her hands on his shoulders, letting her sight move from his chest to meet his glance. He was already smiling at her when the two met eyes, only encouraging Y/N to laugh a bit as she felt her lips curve up. "I know I've already said it but I just gotta let you know one more time," they poked his chest a few times, "You played so well today, so well. You deserve this. All of it."

"Thanks Y/N, I know." Jude let himself be vulnerable, falling close and comfortable into an embrace with his partner, placing a kiss by the side of Y/N's head before leaning his head against hers, the two swaying to the kind elevator music and their shared laughter.

His words were said with clear purpose. I know you're proud of me. Y/N always let Jude know she was proud of him. By attending his matches, by sending him those last minute messages before he was to head onto the pitch. Never questioning his ability but rather building up his confidence and mood with just a few words, letting him know that he was a good player with every passing day.

I know I deserved this win. She always let him know he was destined for success; to the trophies, the love from the supporters, to the titles of the best or the most gifted. That his hard work wasn't in vain or just to pass the time, that Jude was doing the right things and taking the right steps in his career and he would see so much come through with time. After all, the passing hours were only the start of it all.

"But, but, but, but..." Pulling away from the embrace, Jude took off his medal and placed it around Y/N's neck. He continued, moving her hair so the medal could rest well. "I can't say I would have all of this if it wasn't for you." When everything was in place, Jude observed Y/N: her timid facial expression, the medal simply on her and just thought wow. Softly, he commented, "Look at that! It suits you so well." 

It was unfortunate that Y/N's name wouldn't be included with all the names of the players that won today's match—Jude felt like Y/N had won the match with him and the team. He knew to recognise her for everything she had ever offered him, for all that she was. His motivation, his support, his happy days. All that energy she put in him, Jude always took that and put it into his craft and let that grow into the success Y/N was always talking about.

He had to give credit where it was due. It was all because of her, his dearest Y/N.

Observing the medal in her hand, she hummed, "So this is like a what's yours is mine type shit?"

Jude let out a loud laugh, shaking his hand. He couldn't forget, too, that she was his laughter and comedy unintentionally. "I guess so."

"If that's what you want. Speaking of, what do you want to do, like, right now?" Y/N offered the floor to Jude. It was his day, his night, his month, his season maybe. She knew he was on cloud 9. He should get to choose what they should do. Besides, if she didn't ask him, he would've taken the opportunity to ask her.

"I don't know really," Jude exhaled a small breath, scratching the nape of his neck. "I haven't really thought about it y'know." 

His eyes fell on the elevator screen by the door showing the hotel floors slowly going up. Heading up to his hotel room, Jude came to realise that the two wouldn't actually have anything interesting to do other. All there was to do was sleep. And Jude could sleep, the feeling distant in his eyes but he didn't want to; the adrenaline from the match was still present and wouldn't allow him to sleep off any unnoticed fatigue.

He felt obliged to do something, to celebrate this massive win some more. And that, eventually, was something he wanted to fall back into once again. 

Y/N watched Jude head towards the elevator buttons, confused. And it was only deepened when he halted the elevator ride. Frowning, they wondered, "What are you doing?"

"I say let's not call it a night," Jude said with a shrug, a playful look soon maturing across his face. "I'm pretty sure everything here is 24 hours. Let's just roam around the hotel and do whatever we can find to do."

"And do what exactly?"

Rather than stopping on their floor, they pressed random buttons and let themselves reach a totally random floor. And as soon as the elevator door opened, they ran and ran and ran. Wherever Jude and Y/N could place their feet, where there lacked deadends, the two found their way together. Without care, passing by people while waving at them, saying a rushed sorry or excuse me, some with or without meaning whenever they bumped into someone.

They were like kids, unhinged yet full of excitement and wonder for the thrilling times the two were sharing together. Running through the hallways and dodging as many bodies as possible, finding the main hotel kitchen to have all chefs confused by their presence. Running into the restricted areas that, suddenly, weren't so restricted anymore; taking the elevator every time their feet were about to give out.

And Jude and Y/N were fun with it all too. Every security camera they saw (or they thought was one), the two would wave as if they were communicating with security on the other side. Every time they heard distant footsteps, they would share a glance before running away in laughter and giggles like they were being chased, holding hands for dear life to make sure one (Y/N) wasn't lagging behind the other (Jude) as they ran around seeking thrill and adventure.

Roaming around the hotel brought the couple to the hotel bar, where Jude and Y/N found the drinks and the karaoke machine. And for some reason beyond what they knew, they preferred the karaoke machine; to sing a song and loosen up sounded good. The adrenaline was so high up, so high that a drink or two wasn't necessary to boost their confidence. Nonetheless, they chose to drink some anyways too.

Together, Jude and Y/N sang their songs; their favourite songs, the ones they could sing, the ones they couldn't sing, the ones the pair sang in private and only to one another. And it definitely felt like it, like they were the only ones in the room. 'Cause even though some of Jude's teammates were present too in the bar—enjoying the atmosphere and recording Jude just in case—that didn't stop the couple from enjoying themselves and feeling like they were the only people in the room.

To fall back into reality– to fall out of their high and hyperactivity– the two headed to one of the many indoor swimming pools. Seeing as they hadn't brought any swimwear with them, they chose to swim in their undergarments, Jude and Y/N mindlessly laughing as they watched one another undress.

Heading into the swimming pool, they chose to take it easy. Holding one another, resting on the shallow end because they had no real energy to swim. Just like the pool water, that want to sleep and cave in was slowly washing over them, surely but slowly. There was talk, but it was exhausted and strained. All Y/N and Jude wanted to do was celebrate—that was the only thing resting on their minds. 

But from leaning on each other to not lose balance to almost dozing off on the pool floaties, they understood sleep was necessary at some point. It was time to pack it up for the night; the celebrations could start again another time.

Hand in hand—like they had been all night—a bit stiff and lagged in their walk, water carelessly dipping on the floor, the two together walked into their elevator. While Jude pressed the floor number in, Y/N took her place on the elevator floor, closing her eyes and exhaling low as her back got to rest against the wall. There was no energy between them; they could no longer hold themselves up without the help of each other.

She felt a presence relax by her side as the elevator began to go up. Opening her eyes, she turned to look at Jude to find him already wanting to catch her gaze. And they just laughed it off together, their laughter hollow and tired in the elevator. Nothing was necessarily funny, it was just a good way of getting past something that would've been embarrassing at the beginning of the relationship (which it was, particularly for Jude). 

Jude inhaled through his nose, rubbing it a bit. The pool water was still having its effect on him. There was a small moment of silence before he mentioned, randomly, "I gotta listen to more Kehlani songs."

"Yeah?" Chuckling, Y/N leaned her head against the elevator wall. It was a fun time to witness Jude so out of it. 

"Yeah, I do, I do," Jude nodded and sighed, letting his head rest against Y/N. "I really like one where she's all like I love you shawty, shawty," he sang, his drowsiness along with his accent pronouncing shawty like shaw-day. "That one's real cool."

"I know you like that song." From what she could remember, that was the song Jude was singing with the most passion and animation at the karaoke bar over others.

It felt like it took forever to reach their hotel floor. In reality, the elevator ride had only taken less than a minute. They had reached their hotel floor a long time ago. However, exhausted and slightly out of things, neither Jude nor Y/N noticed when the door had opened. They remained on the elevator floor, leaning on one another and engaging in simple talk. It was early in the morning; no one was awake so they felt no rush to get up. 

And even if the elevator doors closed on them, it would be okay. Somehow, they would find their way back.

"Hey, Y/N," his partner hummed, her voice almost trailing away from him. "Thanks for today, for everything really. This," with his eyes struggling to remain open, Jude tapped his finger against his Champions League medal Y/N was wearing. "I wouldn't have it without you."

"It's okay, Jude. I know." I know you're grateful to have me. And she was right; that's just how it was. Jude was, indeed, grateful to have Y/N.

[footballfanficwriter]

International Friendly, not so Friendly

Summary:where Kylian is pissed about the game against Germany

"Maman?"

"Oui?"

"Where is papa?"

"Getting ready for his match love, that's why we need to get ready and head to the Stadium to watch him play"

Today is the first International break of the year  that means Kylian is gonna be back to Captaining the team again

"I can't find my shoe Maman"

"Here it is Babe"

"Thank you"

"You're welcome"

"Ok let's go"

Claire and I make our way out of the house and to the Garage where the car is parked

I buckle her up in her seat and we start making our way to the Stadium

When we arrive it's noisy, the sound of French people dominates the stadium, cheering and chanting the player's names as they do their warm ups

As we arrive I spot Kylian and he only notices us after 10 minutes and sends us a wave and a kiss

Claire gigles and kicks her legs that barley touch the ground  in her seat as she watches her father do what he loves

Kylian occasionally sends waves our way and the only thing they are doing is making claire more excited

The game starts a small Volkswagen car comes onto the pitch and Kai Haverts picks it up

The refs blows the whistle and Kai kicks the ball to Tony Kroos who send it to Florian Wirtz who shoots the ball and sends it hitting the back of the net

The German players Celebrate the goal

And the once dominating sound of the French has now stopped the only cheers coming from the German Supporters that only take up a small portion of the Stadium compared to the French that take up most of it

I watch Kylian's reaction and he doesn't look pleased to say the least, turning my head and looking next to me I see the once excited and giddy girl with her mouth open and eyes big, just like her father's in that very moment

"Maman what happened?"

"They scored ma cheri"

"Merde" she says

I turn with my head and looks at her with a shocked expression

"Claire who taught you that word?

"Uncle Ethan"

"I'm gonna kill him"

The game goes on and by the time it's full time Germany have won

Again the Sound of the French has now died down

Partly because some had already left in the 65th Minute when they saw how the game was going to end

The score is 0-2 and understandably all the French players want to get off the pitch as soon as possible

"Maman"

"Oui?"

"Can we go get Papa and go home now"

"Yeah let's go"

We make our way down and wait for Kylian to take his shower

After 30 minutes he comes out and gives Claire and I Hugs

"Ca va Papa?"

"Oui ca va ma cheri, je très bien" he says putting a fake smile on his face

We make our way to the car in silence, Kylian buckles Claire up and I go to the driver's seat and start the engine

The whole car ride home is silent, the tension is thick as hell, I don't want to say anything so I'll just keep quiet and focus on the road

When we get home Kylian gets out of the car, unbuckled Claire and they make their way into the house while I get that bags we went with

I enter the house and walk to Claire's room to leave her bag in her room and as I'm about to walk in i hear Claire and Kylian talking

"Why are you upset Papa?"

"We lost Claire" he says taking out some pajamas from her wardrobe

"But we'll get them next Time right?'

"Mhm, c'mon arms up so we can get you into this shirt"

Claire lifts her arms up and Kylian helps her get into her Pajamas

"Papa?"

"Oui?"

"Did you get hurt?"

"No, my love, I just need to get some ice on my foot it will be fine, c'mon teeth"

They walk to Claire's bathroom and she brushes her teeth

"Whach abut unchle TchTch, ish he gonna be fun?"

"What?"

Claire spits her toothpaste out and says

"I said what about uncle Tchou-Tchou is he gonna be fine?, he looked really hurt during the game"

"I don't know, but I hope he is, we need him for Tuesday's game"

"Yeah"

"Ok Bug, bedtime now, c'mon"

Kylian Carries Claire to her bed and tucks her in

"Bonne nuit papa"

"Bonne nuit ma cherie"

"Je'taime"

"Je t'aime aussi"

He closes her door and finds me standing in the passage

I don't say anything to him but I come in for a hug and he lays his head on my shoulder and sights

"Merde" he says

I slightly chuckle a bit and he looks at me and asks what

"Your daughter said the exact same thing when I told her they scored"

"Where did she learn that from?"

"Ton Fére" ( your Brother)

He laughs and we walk to our room and get ready for bed

The next day I'm woken up with my Daughter barging into the room and her hair all over the place

"Claire, tu veux quoi"( what do you want)

"Je veut mon pere"( I want my father)

"Kylian,  C'est ta Fille, Elle veut toi" I say (you Daughter wants you)

He wakes up and looks at Claire who's stood at the end of the bed

"Hello Bug, what can I help you with?"

"I made something for you" she says using her shy voice

"Ok let's see it"

She hands Kylian the card  she made him filled with a whole lot of glitter

She drew a picture of Kylian kicking a ball and scoring a goal

"I saw how upset you were yesterday so I made you a card to show you that next time you can do it pasque t'es mon pére"(because you're my dad)

Kylian smiles, gives her a hug and kiss on her forehead

"Where did you find the time to make this love?" I ask

"I stayed up all night"

"What Claire?"

"C'mon"

We walk into Claire's room and see papers and glitter everywhere

"Merde alors" I say ( Holy sh*t)

"Mon deiu" Kylian says ( My God)

"Claire, how did this room get like this?"

"I was making Papa's card and I thought if I'm making a card for Papa then Maman will feel left out and she'll feel bad and think I don't love her and don't want you to...

"Breath Honey" I tell her because she was rambling without taking breaths

She takes a deep breath and continues talking

"I don't want you to feel bad or think that I don't love you so I made you a card aswell, here" she says

She walks to one of her drawers and pulls out a blue card

"I made it in your favorite color so you'll like it more"

I take the card and look at the picture that Is drawn

It's a picture of me and Claire

"Aww, amore merci, c'est tres beau" ( love thank you, it's so beautiful)

"De rein Maman" ( you're welcome Mom)

"Now we need to get you to sleep because you're gonna be cranky the whole day if not"

I help her out of her pajamas since they have glitter glue on them and need to be washed, I then give her one of my shirts to wear and the stupid child starts imitating me, making Kylian laugh as he watches Claire being funny

I chuckle and say  "Go sleep in my room Claire"

"Ok, j'taime Maman"

"Je t'aime aussi ma cherie"

She walks to my room and climbs on the bed

"Get the brooms" I tell Kylian

"What why me?"

"It's your fault she did this in the first place"

While we're cleaning the room Kylian speaks up

"You know we're actually lucky to have her as our Daughter"

"Yeah we are, she really is an Angel "

"Well most of the time"

"We've birthed a Comedian"

"That's definitely true, can you imagine how she's gonna be when she's older?"

"Oh God please, don't say that, I can already see it"

He laughs and gets back to sweeping the Glitter the floor