#footie fics

[ladymarycrawley]

Forbidden but delightful - Mason Mount

Request: I actually had a imagine request for Mason Mount…where the reader works for him and they’ve always been fond of one another and one day she comes in wearing a guys jumper, it doesn’t fit her properly and it smells like a man. So Mason feels himself becoming jealous, when in reality it’s just her brothers jumper that she ended up wearing because she fell asleep at his babysitting his kids + @anon that asked me sth based on Mase's Nike shooting that got out out in august/september

Warning: none

Tag list: @prideofpd , @johnstonesfc , @chelsealover , @masonxomount , @masterclassbaby

(gif credits to @bracedes)

A thing Mason promised himself he would have never done in his life was falling in love with someone that worked for him or that simply happened to cross his path for business reasons: he knew it would have been unprofessional but, most of all, he feared he would have ended up as the wronged party.

Another thing he knew deep down his heart was that promises are sometimes meant to be broken and the aforementioned one was one of those.

Since Y/N took on the role of his personal stylist she became the ever so present object of his thoughts as she charmed him since day one, when that shy smile of hers made him blush and ask for more, more moments of him in her company. 

He knew she had something special but didn't know what that was, he only knew it was something that made him feel relaxed, at peace with the world around him. It was as if she held an aura of calmness that was never enough for him as his engaged lifestyle required a lot of it.

Needless to say they got along instantly and, as he was one of the most appreciated footballers on the planet, she soon became one of the most envied women for spending so much time with him. That time they would spend together wasn’t related to fashion matters only but quickly spread to their spare time too: after their work for a magazine, Mason invited her over to his house to celebrate their first job together.

In the meanwhile, on her part, a small sentence he said to her like “I’d like you to always feel at ease when you’re around me, we don’t have to be friends if you don’t want to but I’d like you to be totally yourself” was what made her like him as soon as his brother Lewis introduced him to her. What he expressed was quite an easy concept not to be taken for granted as a lot of famous people would likely treat their employees as servants, making their business life miserable but that wasn't his case.

Everyone loved Mason for being a down to earth guy, a family guy that always had the most beautiful smile painted across his lips and that smile was the second thing that made her weak to her knees: it could light up a dark room faster than artificial light and warm her heart at the same speed.

The second time it was her turn so she asked him to join her in going to a club in the centre of Manchester. It was just the prelude of their game of looks, subtle and unintended touches, sweet words. All of that happened without them even realising it as it felt so spontaneous, so right.

The crucial moment in their professional as well as personal career was when the Red Devils player was asked to feature in the next Nike Underwear campaign as one of their latest posterboys.

“That’s huge, I can't believe it” She kept on saying in disbelief as he was in a delighted mood too. That was probably the biggest job she got until then and they were both buzzing.

“I’m sure all the girlies will love me even more after this shooting” You joked, alluding to the shirtless pictures of Mason that would soon reach every corner of planet Earth through the worldwide coverage they would have had.

He blushed a little and chuckled. “Yep and they’ll probably hate you a little too cause you’re stealing their place”

“Me?? I’m just doing what I’ve been hired for and just got you the biggest shooting to date”

“Yeah but don’t flatter yourself sweetheart”

Sweetheart? Y/N would have never thought of hearing that nickname coming from his mouth and above all, addressed to her. The shade of bright pink that painted her cheeks after that exchange of words, matched her geranium skirt and that combination didn’t go unnoticed to her client who smirked, quite pleased with what his sentence ignited in her.

They both gave each other knowing looks, a look that made Mason’s heart beat faster and Y/N’s legs shake.

The stylist cleared her throat with a fit of coughing before looking at the time on her phone screen, deciding it was time for her to go home before things would have gone out of your hands.

“Are you already going home?”

“Yes, I have erm - a friend over for dinner, yeah” She nodded as if she was trying to convince herself to buy her own lie. 

“Do I know her? Oh wait, is it your best friend?” The Englishman didn’t really care about her guest, he only wanted to spend a couple more minutes with her and make sure she wasn’t seeing any guy he would have to compete with.

“No no, you don’t know her…” She said dismissively, putting her bag on her shoulder.

“Is this mysterious friend a guy you haven’t told me about?” He said, crossing his hands and trying to sound as chilled as possible.

“Please! Not interested in any guy right now” Yeah, in any guy that wasn’t called Mason Mount. “Really have to go now, my house is a mess and she will be there in less than an hour… see you tomorrow, Mount, don’t be late cause we’ll check your Nike’s outfits out!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t…have fun tonight”

“Yep…thanks”

They almost whispered their goodbyes with a hint of sadness and delusion in their voices, as though neither of them wanted to leave each other nor wanted the other one to be left alone but the positions they were in forbid any kind of romantic relationship: it would have been too complicated and too risky.

The very risky thing though was the task she had to undertake the next day: some Nike people met Mason and Y/N at the sportswear brand’s headquarter in London and shared a quick chat to get to know each other better, before skipping to the part where they would explain the shooting they had in mind for Mason to be featured in.

She gulped the moment they showed them the underwear models they could have chosen among.

Y/N’s mind soon got crowded with not safe for work images, as the sight of the Manchester United player’s toned body covered only in a pair of tight boxers, smiling at her began getting more and more vivid.

She shook her head when the Mason in her mind bit on his lower lip and seductively brought his hands to his sides to take off the tiny piece of clothing covering his lower body.

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Oh yes, yes I’m so excited for this you have no idea” She laughed.

The people working with them smiled and left the room to do God’s knew what, leaving her and Mason alone.

He chuckled, lowering himself to her level so that his lips were close to her ear and whispered “Bet you’re more aroused than excited for this job”

You widen your eyes and hit him on the shoulder.

“I’m fully focused on my work, wasn’t thinking about anything vile”

“Even if you’re thinking about it that would be nothing wrong with it…I won’t tell anyone about your secret crush for me”

“Stop it! How old are you? 15??”

Mason giggled and swiftly pecked her cheek. “I love it when you get annoyed at me”

If someone would have seen that scene they would have thought they were a couple, a cute couple but sadly it wasn’t the truth and maybe would have never been…

Y/N arrived at work the day of the Nike shooting some minutes late and she entered the venue out of breath.

“Hi! Sorry everyone, stuck in traffic and it was horrible” She justified herself panting. What she just said was a white lie because she had nothing to do with London’s traffic: the night before her elder brother asked her to babysit his children because he had planned a night out with his wife and forgot to call someone to look after those two rascals that spent all the night shouting and running around the house.

She tried to say no when he asked her that favour, as she had a big day coming on but he said he really needed her help.

So she fell asleep on the sofa, after battling to put her nephews to bed, waking up just in time to go back home in a rush, begging her brother to give her a lift, and put on some knee-high boots that would have complimented that oversized grey jumper she borrowed from him to fight the coldness of the night.

Mason raised his eyebrows when he saw her, recognising immediately what she was wearing was a man’s jumper.

She styled it as if it was a dress and she looked so hot in his eyes but couldn’t stop thinking she must have spent the night with some man, that’s the reason why she was late.

The shooting went as planned: Mason looked genuinely flawless and sexy in that underwear, smiling at the camera and she kept on biting her lips as she couldn’t help thirsting over him as he looked nothing but hot ... that infatuation for him would have been the death of her.

She thanked that one person that asked for a little break because she needed a giant cup of coffee and some fresh air.

“You look good” Those were the first words she said to Mason that day.

“You too”

“No way, I look hideous as I’ve barely slept and arrived late on what’s the most important day in my career” She blurted annoyed at that, something unforgivable from her point of view.

The footballer started biting on his nails as he was clearly nervous and maybe needed some fresh air as well as she did.

“This…” The strong smell that tickled his nostrils interrupted him “...this smell, where does it come from?”

“Oh I think it’s my jumper” Y/N admitted shyly, referring to the garment that looked huge on her.

What Mason noticed made her blush, as if he caught her red-handed while doing something inappropriate and he glanced at her sideways, as if that inappropriate thing she did disappointed him somehow.

“It still smells like him...” She said under her breath but he still heard her and couldn’t help but widen his eyes in shock: in his head they’re perfect together, smiling and laughing every day, even subtly flirting so he thought she was single and he could go on courting her but now she’s wearing another man’s clothes? The poor man was confused to say the least.

“You told me you weren’t interested in any man…”

“And I’m not”

He raised his head and smiled quite relieved with the real explanation behind all of that.

“So why are you wearing another man’s jumper?”

“Oh god Mase, are you jealous?? This is my brother’s. He asked me to babysit his kids last night and took this because I was cold and in a rush so it was literally the first decent thing I’ve found”

“Oh well…I was ready to mock you for your walk of shame actually”

“No dear, you’re dying for me to tell you I haven't slept with anyone last night and now you’re joking only because you didn’t get angry” You giggled, offering him a cup of hot coffee.

“Can I take you out tonight?”

“Mason I- I don’t think that’d be a good idea, I mean we’re working together”

“I know that but I’ll do my best to keep things separated, I promise” He gave you puppy eyes, making you giggle.

“If you wanna try…”

“You don’t wanna try?”

Of course she wanted to, she'd been dying too…and she'd been dying to know what his lips tasted of too: she quickly glanced around to make sure all the people involved in the shooting were still out and unexpectedly kissed him, the coffee flavour on his lips mixing with her nude lipstick.

“Now go on posing, nothing happened!”

Nothing could swipe Mason’s smirk off his face as he brushed his thumb over his lips that now tasted like her.

“Yeah...nothing happened”

Mixing work and private life wasn’t something they were willing to do but sometimes breaking the rules has that forbidden charm that brings to one’s soul the highest of delights and that’s a risk worth taking.

[oh-saints]

I found your page a couple of days ago and i love all your stories. I hope you won't be overwhelmed with the amount of Rúben dias requests you're about to receive from me 😂I would like to request something with ruben like oc is heavily pregnant and craving something weird (whatever weird this that comes into your mind lol) and he is laughing and teasing her about it lol, and oc us having non of it. Make it fluffy please 🥺

Thank you so much in advance

cravings

craving during pregnancy is something we all are aware of, rúben even looks forward to it from the moment you broke down the news you were expecting. but what if you ask for something he doesn’t even know it exists?

rúben dias x you part of dad!rúben collection

wc: 2k

note: something that’s been sitting way too long in the vault because of the research I had to do about this but only now finished bcs I had spurts of inspiration suddenly so surprise, surprise it’s a double update! LOLOL but as usual, I happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet!

“gatinha,”

at your whisper, rúben stirred from his sleep. his eyes immediately spotted the clock on the bedside table. the numbers drawn 3:00 in the big, fat analogue font across the screen.

“uh, what is it?” being the alert husband he was, he turned around to face you in no time. “is there something you need?

you were already seated on the edge of the bed, meaning you had just finished from your early morning toilet trip. ever since you became pregnant, the little trip was a new routine for you—and maybe the majority of other pregnant women in general, and everyone around him who had become fathers before him had warned the footballer to watch where the mother was going.

that, and the last thing he needed was for you to slip somewhere when he wasn’t watching, when he couldn’t be any help for you. rúben and you had been waiting for your very own rainbow baby for years, so when you were granted one, it was within his most important priority list to make sure both you and the child—whose gender was still unknown yet; not even born yet and they already resembled your shy nature—happy and safe.

“are you okay?”

you didn’t hide your fascination towards the man in front of you, hair disheveled and eyes blurry with drowsiness. 5 years of marriage and you still found him endearing, even more so when he was now turning protective and alert all the time, borderline the leader of a pack with the appearance similar to a mother hen.

“i am, don’t you worry,” you said, your hands stroking the side of his face, feeling the little hairs growing to become stubbles in near future. “but i’m starving.”

ah… the infamous early morning craving.

you had never personally asked of anything alike before, contrary to what everybody else had been advising rúben that there would be a time where you would be craving something eventually in a very ridiculous time of a morning. four months in, and you were yet to show any signs of it so rúben naturally thought you were going to be an exception case. but look where they were now.

with a smile so apologetic for having to wake him up like that, rúben melted into the warmth your smile exuded. “of course, meu anjo. should i get my keys?”

rúben might be many things but you didn’t believe one chance that he was a psychic. “do you even know what i want to eat?”

“uh, mcdonalds?”

in any other time, you would’ve laughed at his meek attempt to guess your mind. given t was early in the morning, mcdonalds was supposedly a reasonable choice since it was open 24/7.

but you did not, in under any circumstances, want to touch your feet nearby that chain of foul fast food. besides, you were pregnant. didn’t your husband consider that the unhealthy intake of food would do no good for their baby?

rúben must’ve noticed the change in your demeanour. “did i say something wrong, my love?”

“yes, don’t assume anything you don’t know of.”

ah… this one rúben was familiar, the rapid change of your mood he had his money run for the fastest rollercoaster on earth, so he apologised instantly and asked you again what you wanted.

“remember the time when we travelled to asia?”

“you mean, our honeymoon?”

oh, you were so not having your husband being mr. i-know-it-all. “one more of that and i’m walking out.”

the threat was enough to make rúben circle around the bed before kneeling down in front of your frowning figure. not because he was a loser, but because he knew you might actually do it. you had a capability to do it, you always do, which was why he was drawn to you in the first place.

but he didn’t want a runaway wife, pregnant on top of that, so he quickly apologized again. “what about it, baby?”

“i want durian.” ＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

what on earth is durian?

rúben sighed as he stared at his phone, the screen frozen helplessly for how many tabs he’d opened up in the browser. he rubbed his face rather roughly, due to the frustration, as he sat on the cover of the toilet and pondered his life choices and its respective life expectancies.

no one—literally no one—had warned him about the effect of any slip of tongue around a pregnant woman.

you were the calmest person he’d ever met, never wanting to bite off someone else’s head because it drained your precious energy. which rúben agreed to, and had been a devoted student of yours in terms of anger management on and off the field. but it was getting very hard to keep his own composure intact when you even lost yours.

ironically, rúben realised that one of you should still stay sane for the sake of everyone in this household, now inclusive of the unborn baby and it didn’t look like it was going to be you anytime soon.

so realistically, he couldn’t say to you that he didn’t remember a thing—not even an ounce of it—that you both had seen the fruit in question during your honeymoon. according to you, though, you both were even mesmerized by the look but decided that the possibility of dying because of the foul smell was larger than the delicious taste. as a result, when was the best time to try the exotic fruit than now, at 3.30 AM, when you were nearing the fifth month of pregnancy?

thus, his final resort to the internet, hoping for a miracle in the amount close to how much he needed to create the apple of his eyes with you.

but of course, the search engine didn’t show anything that could help him save his own lifeline this early morning from a pregnant wife that was so ready to stab the knife to his chest. the best option rúben got was to visit chinatown and head to the fruit market.

with a particular note from a lovely reviewer that the fruit was subject to a particular season—durian season, as the asians called it. if you were to seek for the spiky fruit beyond the particular calendar, then you either (i) got one that tasted as foul as it smells, or (ii) came home empty handed.

but of course, you wouldn’t get it, would you? rúben had already had it in his head you were going to wail at how incredulous his justifications are—what the hell is a durian season? we have spring, summer, autumn and winter and not durian! he could imagine—and would accuse him of trying to get his way out of the hard labour of satisfying you craving. worse, you’d scream out rúben should be responsible for this because he was the one who knocked you up and not vice versa.

other times, the footballer would just laugh it off. even at first, he did so and thought you were the cutest thing in his life, an actual living plushie. now, he just didn’t know what to do…

“what takes you so long?”

rúben jumped slightly at the question thrown at him from behind the door, the only thing separating him and his thoughts with the rest of the world and their expectation towards him. “nothing, meu anjo. i’ll be out in a minute.”

“good, because we gotta go. i’m sleepy already but the baby needs to eat.”

the husband closed his eyes once more, regulated his breathing, visualizing the flow of his breath before letting them out slowly—just the way you taught him how—before coming out of the loo. “baby, can i ask you one thing?”

you looked up, and rúben felt bad because you were already dressed and ready to go out and fight the coldness of an early morning. “what is it?”

“what if we go and have the durian in the morning?”

“rúben, it’s already morning now,” you clicked your tongue impatiently. “what are you saying?”

“i have a place to go already but they’re only open later at 8.”

and pregnant silence fell upon them, no puns intended.

“why at 8?”

“because that’s when the market opens,” rúben sat again in front of you, his hands were rubbing the back of your hand and on top of your knees respectfully. “i’m afraid we’ll have to go to chinatown to get them and it’s only open then.”

rúben was so ready with your fit, so he was rather surprised to hear you answer, “okay.”

okay?

okay?!

okay!

good god, the mood swing had returned it honestly felt like rúben had just jumped off the cliff with bungee jumping.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

rúben was the one not okay that morning.

you turned out to opt out sleeping that night, despite being cuddled by your husband—which was your favourite way to go to sleep, even faring better than being lullabied—but rúben forgot you were living your life for two people for these nine months, so you still had a bar of energy and excitement while he had to drag his feet to the en suite bathroom.

you were literally counting in seconds as to when you’d get to the chinatown. your legs were involuntarily shaking from excitement, while he’d become more sensitive due to the lack of sleep (per his standard). as soon as the car stopped at the parking lot, you ran to the nearest entrance and lost yourself in quest to find the fruit. it wasn’t even 8 AM yet.

rúben had to call and asked you to share your live location, in case you were lost. but you were already moving in a pace so different than those mothers he’d gotten to know lately due to the parenting class, there was no way he could catch up.

“where are you?” as soon as his phone rang, he picked up, panting from the endless count of steps inside a huge market. “i cannot find you.”

coincidentally, you happened to call rúben in order to tell him that you were going to line in a queue to a small shop selling imported exotic fruits. the small hadn’t been open, yet there was already a waiting list, and in your dictionary of words it should only mean that the said shop was relevant to be called the local’s favourite.

“there you are,” rúben was about to comment

like a lucky charm, they were called in to make their purchase not long after.

you had your eyes already set on durian, so when the uncle asked if you wanted to eat at that place or bring home a peeled one, you didn’t hesitate to have them immediately. besides, you didn’t know how to split durian into two and whatnot.

“oh my god, so damn good!” you didn’t waste a minute to dance your little moves that you made to indicate you’re happy at that moment. “i can eat this every day for the rest of my life!”

good god, please help me.

“you should try, baby!” you were so excited to share your happiness with your husband, one hand holding a tiny bit of yellow and ready to be shoved into rúben’s mouth. who could deny such endearing request? “you’ve never had one before!”

and that was also the last time rúben had a bite of that yellow, mushy inside of durian. apart from the smell, he decided he didn’t like the texture and the bitter aftertaste.

but that was him. you, on the other hand, were munching the fruit as if it was going to be your last time seeing that scarce fruit. it appalled rúben too even at the length and amount you could eat in one seating. and looking at that, seeing you were this elated, it also made him full—in every sense of the word, literally and figuratively.

when you were done with the last chunk, you grinned at him, rather sheepishly. maybe you were drunk from the fruit, maybe you were shy because you just let out one hell of an appetite. “thank you for coming here with me.”

“anytime, my love, but we’re not doing this again. okay, meu anjo?” rúben wiped your fingers one by one from the sticky texture, internally wincing at the stinky smell. “promise me that.”

“sim, meu amor.”

[tommyspeakycap]

all for you

success brings john something, but it never brings him happiness. only you could do that.

just a little short one to get back into writing :) inspired by this song by cian ducrot

i roll over, but it’s empty…you used to lay here beside me

Once the cheers of his teammates have died down, when the buzzing in his ears created by the booming stadium finally began dulling, John is haunted by the deafening silence of his home for yet another lonely night.

It’s on days like this that once again John is reminded of the noise he used to come home to. You were always there, bounding through the large house the second you heard him enter the foyer. Your sock covered feet would propel you into him, giggling and congratulating before making some kind of squeezing sound with how tight you would hug him. The dog would yip in delight at the joy of his human parents happiness and his collar would jingle as he bounded around you both.

On the days where those post match greetings were not so happy, the clinking of the dogs collar were still ever present and your soft soothing voice was always there to greet him and tell him how brilliantly he did anyway, and that they would get back at it the very next day.

The house is so fearfully quiet now. No black and white collie collar metal tingling together, nor his paws clicking through the house. No giggling greeting and certainly no you.

He used to blame you for leaving. John couldn’t understand why you would leave him. He had given you everything. This beautiful big house with rooms and a garden fit to home a happy family, birthdays, Christmas’ valentines and anniversaries adorned with gifts and jewellery. There were holidays and dinners, away day travelling in a private jet and only the nicest clothes. How could have given you all of that and you just up and leave him?

He resented you for it.

It took him far too long to realise that all of those things did not matter. Not one of them mattered to you. Any day of the week you would’ve taken a walk with Dean in the park next to John where he could be himself, holding your hands and telling jokes to make you laugh with all his funny stories while the wild dog runs laps around the park over a multi hundred dollar meal in the deafening silence of small talk and absolutely no emotion from your boyfriend.

“How could you name a dog Dean?” He asked once, laughing out his words as he scratched behind the young dog’s ears while Dean licked at his face. “It’s a good name John!” You had protested with a playful pout, “He suits it doesn’t he? Handsome name for a very handsome dog I say, eh Dean?” You coo as he launches himself over to you. “Dean and John, it suits well. I always did love supernatural.” You had giggled afterwards, making John roll his eyes. Dean was always your dog, nearly a year old when you and John moved in together - so it was a no brainer who the dog would go with when you broke up. That didn’t hurt John any less, he’d lived with you two nearly three years and by extension lived with the playful, energetic furry friend too. He couldn’t understand how you could do this to him. Leave, throw everything away and take the dog.

i swallow my pride now ‘cause it’s all on me

John was angry. He was angry for months, furious even. So enraged that he pulled all of the pictures from the walls, the dressers and the frames into a bottom drawer in the wall in closet off the master bedroom he now slept in alone. It took him a while to calm down, to let his heart fall into the hurt phase of relationship grieving. It was in this phase that he began to bring out the pictures again, mostly so he could sort through them enough to even begin to know what to do with them. The empty wall tacs once hidden behind happy beaming pictures were haunting him daily.

So out came the pictures and it hit him like a freight train.

When did he stop loving on you the way he should, and how could he have been so blatantly blind to it?

And all he could think was no wonder you left.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

unexpected consequences

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, p in v sex, condoms breaking, pregnancy/breeding talk, unprotected p in v sex, established relationship, mention of marriage

“oh fuck, yeah.” you moan out, fingers gripping rafes shoulders. “right-right there.”

your moans are extra loud today, having been apart from rafe for nearly a week after he had business out of the country. rafe is just as pent up as you, thrusting harshly into your cunt to the chorus of his grunts.

“close.” rafe warns, but you could tell anyways by the swelling of his cock that he wouldn’t last long.

“oh my god, yes.” you moan out, back arching off the bed as your release pushes through your body, cumming with a final shout of your boyfriends name.

rafe drops his head into your neck as he cums inside of you, pushing as deeply as he can as your cunt pulses around him. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press soft kisses to his head while rafe pants through his orgasm, until you shift slightly and feel it inside of you.

“rafe, pull out.” you shove at his shoulder, causing him to look up in concern, but he slips his softening cock out.

“what is it baby?” rafe asks. you look down at the condom he always wears, where theres always a bit of white cum gathered at the tip, but this time it looks practically empty, like he just rolled it on.

“rafe.” you hit his shoulder, causing him to flinch and look down.

“wha-” rafe suddenly realizes the issue, rolling himself off the bed as he walks into the bathroom, no doubt to inspect the condom and tell you what you already know is true.

“it broke.” rafe says when he comes out a moment later.

“i know.” you admit, shifting your hips from side to side again. “i can tell.”

“im so sorry baby.” rafe says with a sigh, laying on the bed next to you but not pulling you into his arms, not sure if you want to be touched.

“its okay.” you hum softly, mind still reeling. “you didn’t know.”

“what are we gonna do?” rafe asks, knowing you’re not on birth control due to affecting other medication you’re on.

“well, i can take a plan b in the morning…” you say quietly. 

“or.” rafe encourages you to continue, able to tell that you aren’t finished.

“or we could wait and see. i mean i probably won’t get pregnant just from one time, right?” you shrug.

“what about if it does take? and you’re pregnant?” rafe asks, looking at your tummy.

as if you’re thinking the same thing, you lay your hand over your stomach, knowing that even if you are pregnant there is nothing in there yet, but the thought alone has you rubbing gently over your skin. “i don’t know.” you admit.

“i want to keep it.” rafe blurts out. “if-if you are pregnant.” rafe can’t take not touching you any longer, pulling you close to him and tangling your limbs together.

“are you sure?” you raise your eyebrows. you think rafe would be an amazing father, knowing how protective he is of you, and how he strives every day to take even better care of you. “we are so young.”

“i love you. i want to be with you, i want a family with you. why not start now?” rafe questions. he won’t admit it to you yet, but he’s been thinking about taking the next step, having even gone ring shopping to see his options. “besides-” rafe smiles, “why are you trying to talk me out of it? you’ve always wanted kids.”

you grin back at him. “i know.” you let a giggle free, feeling giddy about the possibility. you’ve always wanted to become a mom, especially because you have so many younger siblings. “so, are we doing this?”

“yes.” rafe says definitively, pulling you in for a kiss, a comforting one that you truly need.

“oh my god, im so excited.” you break the kiss to mumble against his lips.

rafe nods in agreement, lowering a hand between your bodies to touch your stomach. “probably too early to start talking to your tummy, huh?” 

“definitely. i mean, we don’t even know if i’m pregnant, it may take a couple tries…” you trail off, hoping rafe gets your intention.

“well, i will just have to keep cumming inside you.” rafe shrugs. “in fact, we shouldn’t take any chances and i should fill you up again right now.”

rafes hand lowers from your stomach to your thigh as he grabs your flesh and pulls your leg over his hip, spreading your thighs for him as your cunt rubs up against his quickly hardening cock.

“rafe!” you shout with a laugh, but don’t stop him as he begins to grind his cock into your core.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart

[bahrtofane]

husband Jude headcannons

jude just really really enjoys married life

Word count - 2.3K+

Watch it - i got carried away sorry guys, proposal lore?? insanely sappy, even by my standards

—--

He's not a fan of you being known as his, rather he's your husband. Always correcting people during interviews and giving you the spotlight. Even when you shy away, not knowing where to look or what to say. He's always there, a gentle hand on your knee rubbing circles as he nods for you to continue. 

Every red carpet he wants to match, doesn’t care how big or small the event is. Gotta be a way you two look look a pair 

His fav is when you wear exactly the same thing so there’s no way to confuse anything for what it really is hehe 

Bouncing around while you get ready together, helping you get your shoes on while he tries his best to stand still while you fix his tie 

“Look okay?” he asks, head tilted 

You rub his arm, “you look great.” 

And he smiles wide, giving you pecks all over while you giggle, trying to shoo him away from you and closer to the door. your ride is waiting, but he doesn’t care. pouting for just one more kiss. please ? 

All his socials turn into your personal fan page, a big fat married in every bio, ring and all 

He has more posts about you then his actual job 

His teammates poke fun at it, “when are you gonna post us huh?”

He just rolls his eyes,”when I marry you i’ll think about it”

And that’s that

You're the first he runs to post a match, greeting you with the silly hand shake you perfected years ago. You think you could do it in your sleep at this rate. You came up with it ages ago when you kissed him after practice, playing with his fingers till he came up with the idea, and you with the actual hand shake. 

You're his biggest supporter, and him likewise. In every and anything you do, give him pompoms and he'd be your personal cheerleader at this point.

He just likes to have you at games. Waving obnoxiously while you tell him to pose. And he does, every time, sending hearts your way. He dedicates his goals your way. The kisses he would send the crowd in his youth now only go your way where you catch them like a teenager.

You see complications of it everywhere, he thinks it's endearing. He makes you watch them together on the living room tv while you grimace

“My face looks so weird there, oh my god.”

He flicks your arm, “you look great shush. Ha that was during el clasico, ah good times.” 

You roll your eyes but snuggle up against him anyway.

One of your favorite past times btw, nothing he loves better than a lazy morning in with you in his arms while he hits snooze on every alarm.

He tries to cook, with his stupid kiss the chef apron he got just for you. but he will need help, which you gladly give. You end up eating on the couch, covered in pillows watching cheesy shows. You've watched keeping up with the kardashians too many times to count and he still laughs out loud every time.

Jude is soft and sweet when he's not forced into a picture perfect smile and self 24/7. He's a silly guy, always trying to make you laugh. Teasing is his love language by the way.

But he's still sweet, leaving notes around your house for you to find when he has to leave for away games. Hearts and smiley faces littering every inch of the paper. Some frowny faces when he knows he'll miss you extra. 

He likes bringing you to family events and bragging about how cool you are, but everyone already loves you as is, he just likes to brag. Look at how cool the love of my life is everyone, I am sooo lucky you guys look look. 

Jobe has rolled his eyes far too many times, but he's happy to see his brother so happy. Plus you guys threw a fantastic wedding. A win is a win.

When you can't be there he facetimes you every second he possibly can. Blowing kisses when he has to go. 

“Judes been complaining all day I hope you know,” Aurélien pops his head into the screen. 

You snort, “ hello to you too Aurélien.”

He gives you a wave before ruffling the top of Judes hair as he pouts, fixing it just how he likes again, “they just don't get it,” he sighs dramatically.

You laugh, “sure baby, sure.”

You make sure to keep up with the match the best you can, texting him live reactions, even if you know he won't see them till later. He likes them all the same.

Your name on his phone is a simple "mine" with a bunch of heart emojis, the contact pic is one of the two of you together on vacation, smiling with your faces squished together while laying in the sand

It makes him smile every time. he thinks you’re the cutest

He's a big fan of nicknames, weather its a version of your first name, or just a good ole fashion baby. He rarely uses your actual name. He called you something so insane like pooki bear in public once and you have yet to let him live it down.

"in a restaurant was crazy," you squint at him.

He only giggles, "but it was soo funny baby come on."

Speaking of restaurants, this guy loves a good date night 

Gigdy as he comes down the hall in his pjs, grinning while showing you the new reservations, it’s your fav place ! 

Every anniversary he somehow finds a way to outdo himself, don't ask, because in truth he doesn't even know how he pulls it off, but anything for you. Anything. 

Even if it means hunting down the stuffed animal you had as a kid and couldn't find after you lost it in your couch cushions. He finds it, after months and months of searching, making Jobe help him look, it comes in the mail and he has to get creative to get you out of the house and away from the mail the day it's supposed to come.

It gets neatly wrapped and placed on your shared bed the morning of, surrounded by a collection of other gifts, your favorite flowers, and a cheesy note that you always end up crying at. 

The look on your face makes it all worth it, when you tackle him in a bone crushing hug, tumbling into the covers in a tangle of legs while you laugh in between sniffles, he loves you. Oh how he loves you 

It's been a tradition to end the night with the very place he proposed, his home, now yours. 

He doesnt think he could forget it even if he tried. It was a whirlwind of a day. Picture this: 

He's lost all his black socks, his (and your) favorite body wash just spilled all over the shower, his hair looks awful ( he got a haircut that morning), his cologne isn't where he left it, and the private chef he hired isnt replying. All while you're not even awake yet. 

He calls his mom because what else are you supposed to do when you're set to propose and everything is going wrong. 

She only chuckles softly over the phone, “calm down jude, just breathe. You'll find your things, just take a breather and come back to things with a clear head okay?”

So he does. Sitting on his bed, towel still on, frowning. He chooses to instead pat himself dry, get dressed, and give himself a pep talk in the floor length mirror at the corner of his room. 

Turns out his mom was right, things fix themself for the most part, his socks are stuck at the bottom of the dryer, his hair isn't as bad as he thought, he finds a better cologne in his collection, and a perfect body cream. It's gonna be a good day. 

He finishes the last of the day of prep, getting fancy candles, a lighter, and greeting the decorator. Yes he hired a decorator. 

It's nothing over the top, just little changes to make his home look a little softer, changing out the curtains, placing lace table cloth with details in your favorite color. The main event is his second living room that gets covered in an arch of your favorite flowers, gentle curling to just kiss the top of the new antique chandelier that will be holding the fancy candles too. He hopes you like it. He really really hopes you like it.

He's had this planned for ages, since the moment he first met you he thinks. 

When you greet him with a silly good morning text he only grows oh so fond of you, excited to see you. He told you it was a fancy dinner at his place. A change of pace from the resurates. Both of you prefer a much more intimate night in then cameras shoved into your face while a hundred people all yell a hundred things while you're trying to chew your food. 

So you get ready, dress up and make it for dinner. When you see the familiar face of the chef, Karlos, you give him a wave and get seated. Noticing the new table cloth but you don't say anything. You don't want to be wrong so early into the night. 

Jude comes in, nervous as a school boy as he takes your hand for a quick peek, running around like a maniac back and forth. He looks nice, in a signature all black suit, and smelling amazing per usual. 

Dinner is amazing, full of your favorite courses and Jude is jittery in his seat. 

“You okay?”

He nods, a little too fast, “oh yeah. I am. Don't worry.”

You raise a brow but dont push, thanking Karlos for the amazing meal as he cleans up and heads out for the night. 

Jude gets up, telling you to stay put while he'll be righttt back. Don't worry, remember! 

He comes back, unable to meet your eyes while he gives you his hand. You take it, sliding out of your seat and following him down the hall. There's flower petals on the floor now, you look at him, but he looks anywhere but at you, chewing his cheek.

He leads you to the second living room, where the furniture has been cleared out. Replaced by a walkway of flowers and candles, leading up to where an arch of your favorite flowers hugs the curtain, new ones.

Gently pulled back to reveal the floor to ceiling windows that give way to his yard. And the most gorgeous sunset you have ever seen. A chandelier hangs above you, decorated with more flowers, and the most ornate candles and bulbs you have ever seen.

Your eyes begin to water before he even gets down on one knee, his lip wobbles, holding your hand the whole time as he confesses every little moment and reason for his love.

He loves you, he adores you. You're- youre everything. Truly and fully. You're the sunlight that kisses his skin, the stars he wishes to touch, to know, he yearns for you. Years to know you in your entirety, till he knows nothing else but you. For your name to only fully know his lips, for only he will fully know you. He sees no other, he knows no other. He wants- no needs, to give himself as he is. 

You see him, see him as more than just Jude Belingham. You see what others can not, will not. You see him, you know him. You know him better than he knows himself most days. You've seen all there is to see, all that makes him who he is. You know his stupid sandwich order at the place you hate but keep going to because you know how much he loves it.

You sit in freezing weather for the full game just to make sure you don't miss a second of him. The first to congratulate him, the first to mourn with him, the first to sooth his aches and pains. You're the face he looks for in a crowd, you're the first person he calls when anything happens. 

 And you love him with such ferocity it amazes him. 

You're full crying at this point, fat tears rolling down your cheeks till you can barely see him, and he finally gets down on one knee, fishing out a small velvet box from his inner pocket, opening it with shaky hands.

And he whispers, “will you marry me?”

You fall next to him, sobbing into his shoulder while you repeat yes over and over. He cries with you, till you're both laughing from pure joy. 

Who better to spend the rest of your life with then the man who loves you so?

Telling his family is the best part. You have them over for what was supposed to be a quick lunch, turned dinner, and you break the news at dessert, showing off your ring while they all gasp. 

They pile you into the biggest hug, smiles so wide they hurt and you laugh, you're going to get married! You think they just might be more excited than you are.

Wedding planning comes and goes both so fast and so slow. Youre so excited you can't wait, and yet every step of the way seems like it takes excruciatingly long.

Your wedding planner tries her best, bless her soul, but you want it to be completely and utterly perfect. Down to the types of chairs at the venue.

Jude lets you have your way for the most part, chiming in now and again, he trusts you fully. Knowing you're going to make it the best regardless. 

Leading up to the big day you think you just might pass out from stress and never be seen again, but the almost year of planning pays off, and you're married! 

The honeymoon is spent traveling all over while jude is wide-eyed, unable to believe he's married to you of all people. 

The press catches on soon after, even if your wedding was small and intimate. News comes out one way or another.

Jude only responds with a picture of you two slow dancing among your family and friends, captioned, “all you need to know.” and he pins it to every social media page. 

What a man huh?

[pedrislefttoe]

Marc guiu morning sex plsss

pedrislefttoe,

-`✮´- ᝰ.⋆˙ ✶ .ᐟ

marc guiu x f!reader

tw: smut, minors plz dni !!, language, oral f!reader receiving, pet names: “love, princess, baby”

-`✮´- ᝰ.⋆˙ ✶ .ᐟ

safe in your arms,

you were in the middle of the most terrifying nightmare, marc could hear you whimpering in your sleep.

you felt your boyfriend’s warm arms wrap around your waist as you felt yourself getting pulled into his body. marc cuddled you into his body, it was around 8am and he had training. 

marc sat up against the headboard, you pouted when you felt his arms shift away from your waist. all you were wearing was a red, lacy bralette and some shorts with southpark characters on them.

you lifted your head from his bare chest and glared up at him with a frown, “what?” he grinned at you.

“why’d you stop..?” you muttered.

“stop what?” he asked.

“why did you stop cuddling me..?” you gazed at him as he began to smirk, his arms wrapping back around your body.

you felt one of his hands squeeze your thigh, a soft moan escaped your mouth when you felt that same hand travel in between your thighs and kneed your inner thigh. “you like that, baby?” he asked as you nodded in response.

marc sat up straight, kissing your soft lips before his lips kissed down your jaw to your neck. he sucked on your skin softly, biting, licking, kissing until there were multiple little marks on your neck.

marc wanted to make sure that when anyone looked at your neck, they’d see his marks and know you already had someone.

his wet kisses dragged themselves down from your neck to your collarbone, he flipped himself over you as one of his hands traveled behind you and unclasped your lacy bralette. marc yanked the piece of fabric off of you before tossing it on the ground. 

his other hand remained in between your thighs, holding them open as he grinded his knee against your shorts.

“marc.. you’ll be late to training..” you moaned as he kissed around your nipples before taking one of them in his mouth, sucking on it.

you moaned, your back arched off the bed as the hand that was once behind your back was now at your hip, holding you down.

“it’s not for 2 hours, love.” your boyfriend groaned against stomach, which was where his lips were now. marc’s knee retracted from your shorts as he tugged them down so he could kiss your thighs. his lips shifted to your inner thighs as he kept tugging the shorts lower and lower before he yanked them off of you.

you let out a porn-worthy moan as marc yanked your panties off of you and tossed them to the side. marc’s thumb rubbed your clit as he licked a bold stripe down your wet folds. 

“this wet just for me, princess?” marc whispered against your pussy lips which got you moaning his name. he began gently sucking on your clit as thrusted a finger into your entrance, he began thrusting in-and-out of your hole as his favorite little noises escaped your lips.

“marc..” you squeaked as he added in another finger. he pumped his fingers inside of you before curling them in you, making sure to hit your g-spot as you yelped his name.

marc pulled his fingers out of you with a pop, which made you squeal as he lined up against your entrance.”ill be gentle, baby.” he said as he thrusted his tip into you, making sure to be gentle as he slowly began to quicken his pace.

you moaned, screaming his name as you felt your orgasm coming. “marc.. im gonna cum..”

he nodded as he thrusted a bit harder, you came all over his hard, slightly veiny cock.

-`✮´- ᝰ.⋆˙ ✶ .ᐟ

[briitcedes]

only one bed - jude bellingham.

word count: 1.6k

summary: the age old “there’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling” trope.

masterlist

The day had been a rare calm one out on a private beach you’d found somewhere along the coast of Spain while looking for a vacation spot with your friends, the sun had shined all day without cloud in sight, and the lack of wind combined with the hot weather had made it impossible to stay out of the water for long. Even though the day had been one of the most relaxed ones you had had the fortune of enjoying in a while, a whole day in the ocean would take its toll on anyone, hence why you were now basically dragging your feet back to your shared villa to turn in for the night. 

You had your shoes in your hands, feeling the now cold sand make contact with your bare feet, your hair salty and your eyes red from the water. Some of your friends were walking in front of you, all absolutely exhausted, causing them to stumble and trip over everything. Some others were walking behind you, whispering to each other and giggling under their breath, with Jude walking right beside you. You were both walking while sharing a peaceful moment of comfortable silence after a day full of annoying each other, though it seemed keeping quiet was a hard thing for him to do when he was deliriously tired, given that he’d tried to spark a conversation every five steps you took.

You had left everything in the villa neatly placed before you left this morning, already imagining how tiring it would be to tidy everything up when you got back, as you could barely keep your eyes open. However, it seemed like the universe had other plans, because as soon as you all arrived in one piece to the gorgeous house you had rented for your holiday, and after various failed attempts at opening the door, one of your friends collapsed on the couch, which probably wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t accidentally rented a villa with a missing bed, causing the couch to be your designated room for the entire vacation. You tried nudging them and waking them up, but it was a lost cost given the fact that they had instantly passed out, and you weren’t strong enough to move their dead weight.

Jude chuckled as soon as he saw you standing next to the couch looking like a kicked puppy. “Don’t look so sad.” He chuckled. “You can come sleep in our room.” he offered. 

It was a fair offer, given that he shared a room with your friend currently sleeping on the couch, and their bed would be free. However, after a week of sleeping in the same spot, you  dreaded having to get used to sleeping on a different surface, not to mention in the same room as Jude. You really didn’t have enough energy to argue with him right now, though, and instead you just settled for giving a smile that you hoped conveyed everything you would say to him in that moment if you weren’t so exhausted. Judging by the way he flashed you one of his own in return, you guessed it probably did.

“Thanks.” You whispered as he opened the door to the relatively big room. No one close to you was asleep yet, and you had no reason to be lowering your voice, but something in the atmosphere and his closeness to you as he held the door open caused your voice to come out in a hushed tone. 

As soon as you stepped into his room and heard him shut the door behind you, you wanted to start crying out of frustration. Or exhaustion — probably both, you weren’t sure. Bottom line is that you wanted to start crying. Your friend’s bed in which you were supposed to crash, was a mess. The suitcase was open in top of the bed and their clothes were everywhere but inside of it, the bed sheet on top of it looked like it hadn’t been changed since you’d arrived, there was a leftover plate of food on the floor next to the bed and you were sure you could see a pair of shoes peeking out from under the sheets.

Jude chuckled from his side of the room.

“Guess you don’t want to be sleeping in there.” He said, his features contouring into a grimace while looking at you over his shirtless shoulder as he changed into comfortable clothes to sleep in.

“It beats the floor.” You shrugged, and it was true. You knew for a fact none of you had bothered cleaning the floors during your stay, and you were scared you were gonna fall through it and end up in the middle of the ocean. An irrational thought, of course, but one that your anxiety considered very possible anyway given that you weren’t used to staying in houses so close to the ocean. 

“I mean, we can always share the bed.” Jude suggested, and you shook your head, you thought you were already being too much of a bother, and you didn’t think your body could handle a whole night of sleeping next to him. “Oh, come on. It’s not that big of a deal, we've both shared beds with most of thrm before.” he insisted, walking closer to you until he was crouching down to look into your eyes that were trying to focus on anything but his brown ones.

“Are you sure?” You asked, finally looking up at him and being shocked by how good his eyes looked under the moonlight. He nodded with a smile and when you gave in, you could’ve sworn you saw him try to hide a smile while standing up and holding his hand out to you.

Once you had gotten dressed into your pajamas and said your goodnights, you climbed into bed on the opposite side of him, while you both made a point of sleeping as far away from each other as possible, to the point where you were almost falling off the bed. You didn’t care though, you were exhausted and just wanted to sleep, so that’s exactly what you did.

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you noticed was how heavy your chest felt. You got worried for a moment, your brain starting to think that somehow you had fallen through the floor and you were drowning, before you glanced down and saw Jude’s head resting right under your chin and on top of your chest, both of his arms safely wrapped around your body as his soft breaths made contact with your skin, causing goosebumps to make their way through your body and your heartbeat to speed up. You ignored the butterflies having him laying against you caused in your stomach, and instead admired the sight in front of you.

You stared at his face and admired every single feature in it; his long eyelashes resting on his cheeks, his soft lips slightly parted as he breathed through them, and his curved nose upon which you were delicately tracing your index finger up and down. His nose subconsciously scrunched up at the contact and you let out a soft laugh at how cute he looked, moving your right hand from his nose and placing it on his hair instead, starting to twirl his curls in your fingers while you kept your other hand on his face and caressed his cheek, feeling your heart melt at the sight of his relaxed features.

Soon enough, however, you noticed how the right side of you body started to go numb from being under him and having him pressed to your side for such a long time. As much as you hated to disrupt the peaceful state he was in and your own private selfish view of his face, you shook him awake. He let out a groan and nuzzled closer to you, if that was even possible, and you felt your heart flip inside you at the movement. 

“Sorry for the bother, mister, but my whole body is going numb. You aren’t exactly light, you know?” You teased.

In one swift motion, Jude turned you both around, still keeping his arms wrapped around you but this time you were the one whose head was placed on his chest. Your heart was already beating at an inhuman pace when he started to trace patterns across your arm with his thumb and you felt your body tense up once you started thinking about how he was conscious now and definitely aware of what he was doing. Jude must have felt this because he spoke with a sigh afterwards.

“I always imagined our first morning waking up together would involve less clothing, but this is still pretty good.” He said and you slapped his chest, feeling your cheeks burning up. “Just relax, please?” he asked, looking down at you. “I can’t sleep when your thoughts are so loud.” He concluded, moving to place a kiss on the crown of your head before laying back down.

You smiled softly and nuzzled closer to him, inhaling his scent resting your head above his shirt. You returned his kiss by placing one of your own against his chest where his shirt opened up and allowed a little bit of skin to poke through, relaxing against him once again once you felt his quiet laugh come from above you in the form of a huff of air.

Feeling his thumb still drawing patterns in your arms, you decided a few more hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt, and he would still be there when you woke up.

[lmaopuli]

Never Leaving

*credits to gif owner

Christian Pulisic Angst

Warnings: argument, angry Christian, sad Christian, swearing

Word count: ~1k

———

“Are you… leaving?”

You jumped at Christian’s question, not expecting him to come into your shared bedroom already. You didn’t want to look up at him yet, for him to see the tears still lingering in your eyes. You kept your gaze on the laundry you were folding, realizing it looked like you were gathering clothes to pack up and leave. You sighed, hoping and praying your voice wouldn’t give away your broken heart, “No, I’m just folding up our clothes.” You were hurt, really hurt, but you would never leave.

Christian lingered around the doorway, too nervous to come close to you yet. He had no idea what you were feeling, about the fight, about him. You still haven’t looked up at him, but if you did, you’d see the tears still lingering in his eyes, just like with you. He brought his hand up to face, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose at the memory of how he spoke to you just moments ago.

——

“I’m fucking sick of you saying the same shit over and over again every time we come home!” Christian snapped.

“What the hell am I supposed to say as your girlfriend, huh? Am I not supposed to support you?” You spat back, tired of the way he’s spoken to you, not just today but the past few weeks. “You want me to say you guys played like shit today? That you won’t be getting better? Is that what you want?”

“You keep suffocating me!” He responded. He’d regret his words later, but now, he was seeing red. “Just leave me the fuck alone!”

“Fine” you mumbled, shocked that he’d go that low. Tears were welling up in your eyes, but you turned around before Christian could see. You couldn’t deal with this anymore. “I’ll leave you alone.”

——

“I thought you wanted space. What are you doing here?” you sniffled, annoyed with yourself that couldn’t keep your emotions in check anymore.

You looked up at Christian, and his heart squeezed uncomfortably at your blotchy eyes and red nose. He did this to you. He upset his perfect, angel of a girlfriend, and he didn’t know if he could forgive himself for it.

“God, baby—fuck, I'm sorry—I don’t want space from you. I didn’t mean that,” he stumbled, but you didn’t let him finish.

“Then why did you say it? It was so much worse at Chelsea, and you never spoke to me like that then.”

You were right. Some weeks were absolute hell at his old club, but one of the things you admired most about him was that he could separate it from your relationship. You were his safe space when things got tough. He couldn’t care less about what fans were saying on social media, as long as he could come home to you. You couldn’t figure out why a few tough games at Milan, when overall he was doing great, could get to him like this.

Christian sighed, trying to figure out a way to convey how he was feeling. You could sense the turmoil in his eyes, and motioned for him to sit next to you on the bed. A few moments ago, the last thing you wanted was to speak to him—but now, you needed to know what was clearly bothering your boyfriend.

“Chris, talk to me, please.” You pleaded after he sat down, placing your hand on his knee.

“This move to Milan’s been harder than I thought it was going to be.”

Your heart dropped at his confession. The fans have been amazing to him, so have his teammates and coaching staff. What? Your brows knitted in confusion.

“I just feel like there’s been a lot of pressure from everyone with how my time at Chelsea ended,” he continued, “I wanna prove that I can do really well here, and not just for a season.”

“Baby you’re doing amazing so far—”

“But the team isn’t right now. And I’m scared they’re gonna start making me the scapegoat again.” The tears previously welled up in Christian’s eyes were now flowing down his face.

Oh.

It took you a few seconds to register what he said, and you felt sick at how long he’s been keeping this from you.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” You asked, trying to brush the tears from his face.

“Because this is a huge adjustment for you too. You’re in a new country, learning a new language, trying to get along with the other girlfriends and wives and—”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me about this. We’re a team, okay? You take care of me all the time, listen to my problems, give me advice,” you gently grabbed his face, making his red, teary eyes meet yours, “I wanna do that for you too.”

Christian didn’t know what to say. He tried to calm his ragged breathing, but you pulled him into your embrace, comforting him yourself, rubbing his back and leaving kisses on his hair—like he’s done with you countless times before. You had no idea how long you both were sat there, it could’ve been anywhere from a few minutes to an hour.

Christian mumbled something into your neck, but you couldn’t understand him with the way he was pressed into your body.

“What was that, baby?” you asked, imploring him to repeat what he said. He reluctantly lifted his head from your neck. His eyes were still a little red and cheeks had some remnants of tears, but he was looking a lot better.

“I said I’m terrified to lose you,” he said softly, voice cracking slightly.

You felt a pit in your stomach, tears pricking your eyes for the third time that night. Pecking the corner of his mouth, you whispered back, “You’re never gonna lose me,” and then you pressed your lips against his, showing him you weren’t going anywhere, that you would never leave.

———

Christian is my first footballer love, and this fic was so out of my comfort zone, but I hope you Puli girls enjoyed it 🫶🏼 as always, feedback, reblogs, and likes are so so appreciated :) MUAH

[p8droo]

Trent Alexander lazy sex +cockwarming.

trent cockwarmig + soft dom scousarrr >:)

“[name].. please stay still..” trent groaned.. you were about to cry.. you wanted to move so bad.. he softly held your waist,, kisses all over your face and neck.. “tren—trent pl—please.. just once..” you were on the verge of exploding. “just be a good girl and i promise i’ll give you what you want” he groaned, you held onto his shoulders .. whimpering softly as his sweet words made you tighten up on his cock. he groaned yet again before cupping your face. “alright, i’ll give you what you want hon” trent said, your eyes lit up as you kissed him.. god this was gonna be a long night..

[liesmyth]

@takiki16 tags on my post are too good not to be shared! The context is wild shit that legit happened in IRL football ⚽ that I need the Ted Lasso fandom to be aware of, because it'd make for excellent fic material:

the MANAGERS #the PERSONAL DRAMA#I KNOW that ted lasso is not designed to be an actual realistic show #I KNOW that this whole thing did in fact begin as a way to soft trap Americans into watching the Prem #to the point that JOSE FUCKING MOURINHO ACTUALLY HAD A PART IN THE ORIGINAL NBC AD #I do NOT want to change the vibe of the show at all #(but like…a dramedy about the EPL that REALLY wanted to roast some fuckers would perhaps…NOT look like ted lasso #if they wanted to start with the managers it would just be two middle aged idiots with BOILING beef #who had to be physically restrained from throwing hands every other game and have personally destroyed each others’ marriages

Okay WHO would Roy have managerial beef with. I vote Arteta. Actually as @elizabear suggests, it's funnier if it's one sided

He would also instinctively dislike Rob Edwards of Luton because Jamie once said he's the hottest manager in the EPL. Roy's annoyed and he doesn't know why. (Rob Edwards is very hot)

For an example of managers throwing hands... the Tuchel/Conte handshake

In fact here's a whole compilation of managers throwing hands.

Thank you for bringing up Mourinho! This is his ad, btw. "What do you WANT Ted?" lives in my mind rent-free

After much soul-searching I've decided Roy likes Mou a lot among all the managers he's played for. YES, he is a total cunt BUT

he's really fucking funny about it. Like, really.

he's never met a referee he didn't have beef with but most of all Anthony Taylor (as a Roma fan I have to agree with him on that)

the entire 2005 Chelsea team would've died for him. I've said this before, but there can't be a Frank Lampard in TL if Roy plays the box-to-box midfielder role, so this quote about Mourinho walking into Lampard naked in the shower to give him a pep talk? That's Roy. To me.

I can't even pick a quote among all the shit he's said about all the managers he's played against, but I especially enjoy when he used to be a bitch about Pep and Pep was like "I don't know her." It was like a one-sided crush dating back from their Barca days

#if they wanted it to be about the players the literal sky is the limit. WHATEVER the writers room can come up with#it cannot come CLOSE to the batshit drama that real Sockckckckcer Playahs have amongst each other#also intricate rituals. NOT ENOUGH INTRICATE RITUALS#when Jamie scored that free kick after getting permission to be a prick Dani should have kissed him with tongue

Here's some homoeroticism:

#but TO COME BACK TO OP’S POINT ABOUT ACTUAL GAMEPLAY#I want to see Coach Roy get red carded and have to sit in the stands for the next game cursing and swearing

He'd get, like, 3 red cards a season MINIMUM. Mourinho who. Here's Klopp losing it a bit. Here's Pep being passive aggressive as fuck. Pochettino from 2 days ago. Also from last weekend: De Zerbi's "I don't like 80% of referees in England" he's so right for this.

Manager Roy would get himself red carded the week before Richmond play Chelsea away. Totally accidental. So he doesn't have to have a lil cry about it.

#I want to see what it would take to get Zoreaux sent off#and then they have to stick Bumbercatch in goal and it turns out he has some Hyper Specific Phobia about the situation#he manages to save the team but his coping mechanisms for dealing with Forcible Keeper Phobia make up the comedy B-plot of the episode#

I want CLUB RIVALRY. dunno where Richmond actually physically is but imagine if they had derbies#Ted has to be made to understand that no coach - for THIS game we will not stop till we see BLOOD#Richmond wins but bc they are playing away the home fans actively are tossing crap at them as they celebrate on the pitch#also the sprinklers come on and it’s a bus full of soaked greyhounds on the ride home

They're in West London! Maybe they just fucking hate Fulham. Or Brentford.

Actually, I've thought long and hard about Richmond's derby rivalries. Semi-canon sources say they have a bit of a West London rivalry with Brentford BUT to me it doesn't make much sense because Richmond are supposed to have been mid-table in the Prem for years, top-flight but mediocre. Brentford only made it to the Prem in 2021.

Actually, I've decided that Richmond kind of take the place of QPR for most of their history, except they didn't get relegated when QPR did. This is because 1) it'd be too many London-based clubs otherwise but, more importantly, 2) when Man City won their first title in 2012 with Agueeeeeero!!! that was against Richmond. It's funny, To Me.

Also you know Roy still fucking hates Newcastle from his Sunderland academy days. If his pundit career had lasted longer he'd be having top tier shithousery with Alan Shearer every week about it.

Anyway here's a whole youtube playlist about WILD derbies.

#ALSO BC SUAREZ IS COMING TO MIAMI - BITING INCIDENTS CAN THEY DO THAT

As an Italian I am legally obliged to SAY that if Suarez hadn't bitten Chiellini at the World Cup we would have gone past the group stage because Uruguay scored off a corner they won while Italy were all busy telling the ref that there was a fucking cannibal on the pitch. I don't forgive and I don't forget.

Anyway for context: cannibal Luis Suarez. He's a repeat offender. Someone at Richmond would think it was very funny

[princington]

"...brilliant. you are brilliant."

[ladymarycrawley]

Like father, like daughter - John Stones

Not requested but I've been woking on this piece for a while so there you go 💕 and dad! John is a weakness of mine so yeah (and it's quite long). Feel like dedicating this to queen herself @footballffbarbiex 🤍

Warning: pregnancy

Tag list: @prideofpd, @johnstonesfc, @chelsealover, @masonxomount, @kathb59 (cause she was eager to read it)

Pregnancy is seen in the collective consciousness as a blessed time, where a new life is growing inside of a woman’s body and everything seems good but most people only see the pleasurable side of it, ignoring all the cons these nine long months carry with them.

Of course there’s physical pain (back pain, swollen feet, morning sickness just to mention a few), that’s something concrete everybody can see. What’s more painful it’s the hidden part of this journey, the one that takes place in women’s head: embarking on such a massive change might be scary and sometimes fear overlaps with the joy of welcoming a new human being, overcoming it most of the time.

The most common worry is about not being ready enough to become a parent (as it’s the hardest job a person can do) followed by the difficulty of giving birth: how is it going to be? What will I do if something wrong happens? Will it be as painful as they make it seem in films? 

All of this has an impact on mental health and stability, as all these fears may take a toll on a person’s mind and rely on the most disparate stimuli to give life to the most random scenarios…

"John I'm so scared"

"Of what?"

"There's people who like pregnant women but not in a good sense…"

"In what sense?"

"Like they find them hot and have a fetish for them, that's scary"

That what can be defined as one of the random scenarios mentioned above: that afternoon you were aimlessly scrolling through your phone to stumble upon an article about the most unusual fetishes and you happened to read about people who had the pregnancy kink.

"So what?"

"That's gross and what if these people steal my pics and do vile things with them?"

Your head started spiralling in panic as your hormones and your unstable state of mind was totally controlling you. Too many thoughts in that overworking brain of yours culminated in desperate tears rolling down your face. 

"Your pics are safe and you look so sexy"

"I don't, this thing is insanely big and…and the other day you called me whale" You confessed to him as sobs were making you shake.

"Affectionately though, I'd never call you a whale to insult you…" He wrapped his arms around your waist "You're the sexiest, most beautiful whale ever" John whispered with a husky voice right into your neck

"You're fake, you're just mean"

"I'm not mean!"

The sobs were getting harder and your boyfriend knew the breakdown was getting serious.

"You'll leave me for some beautiful, hotter woman that'll give you no problems and you'll be cheating on me and I'll end up as a single mother and -"

"Hold on, hold on. Calm down and take a deep breath" John tried to calm you, stressing those encouraging words and trying to take deep breaths with you as to show you the priorities you should have considered. 

"You're overthinking"

"What if something goes wrong? What if the birth doesn't go as planned? What if our baby -"

"Calm down"

"I've read a lot of stories of mums that had horrible experiences while giving birth to their babies and what if one of us dies?"

John blurted out his eyes in shock as fear and worry covered his perfect face as well.

"Don't even think about it. We're following literally what the doctor told us, I'm sure they'll do whatever it's in their power for your safety"

Your baby kicked in that moment, as if your worry suddenly became her own and she felt the urge to calm you down, coming to the aid of her dad.

You gulped and brought your hand to your belly as John’s eyes never lost sight of you.

He’d never lost sight of you, not even when you went through labour and you were holding his hand so tightly while following the midwife’s instructions, trying to coordinate your pushes with the deep breaths she was asking you to take.

You were trying not to think about all the fears that piled up during those months but it was so hard when all the contractions trampled over you so violently. He stayed there even when you were squeezing his hand so hard your nails dug into his skin, almost piercing it. 

He was the antidote to all your nightmares: someone who stayed there with you, holding your hand through thick and thin.

John only left at nightfall and only after you insisted for him to go back home to sleep on a proper bed.

You were feeling like a done and dusted whale, all bloated and tired while he was there looking so fine, surely fresh out of the shower as the unmistakable scent of his aftershave tickled your nostrils.

The sight of him entering what had been your room for the last two days made your heart swell and the butterflies in your stomach soar.

The tiredness painted across your face as well as your swollen eyes made your freshly woken up expression evident and John couldn’t help but smile as your tired smile welcomed him.

"Hi"

"Good morning"

He closed the door behind him, approaching your bed and looking at the small crib where your tiny baby girl was sleeping.

"How are you? Did you get some sleep?"

"Yep…slept a couple more hours"

"Good" He muttered while pressing his lips to your forehead.

"And how is she?"

Both your glances fell on the product of your love that was so small she could easily fit in one of John's large hands and looked so cute in her blush pink bodysuit, stretching her little legs as she was probably busy dreaming something. 

"She seems fine, we can't wait to go back home"

"I know…they said you would be good to go today"

"Yeah but they want to check in on us for a final check and then we can go"

"Okay" John was a bit disappointed he couldn't take his ladies with him and leave the hospital right away so he reluctantly nodded and got up to take you something to eat for breakfast. 

"I want a giant chocolate croissant"

"And a giant cappuccino as well?" He asked with a smirk, knowing full well your taste when it came to what to have for the most important meal of the day.

"You know me so well" You exclaimed, happy with those small things that weren't small at all in your eyes; they meant the world to you as him and your baby were now your whole world too.

John smiled, a blush pink tint colouring his cheeks and lowered himself over your seated figure, balancing himself on the mattress with his hands, his lips busy pressing a kiss on your forehead.

"See? Everything went well, you're both doing great" He whispered, referring to your fear of something potentially going wrong during the birth, your biggest fear.

You smiled back at him, watery eyes full of weariness and emotions looked up at him as you moved your head to the side to press a tender kiss to his hand that was soothingly caressing your cheek.

“I love you so much. Both of you”

“I love you more”

That sweet moment was interrupted by a nurse who knocked on your room’s door to check in on you and Iris, as it was time for the last visit before discharging you officially.

John waited outside for it to be over, using that time to buy you the delicious breakfast you have been longing for.

He really hoped they could give you the green light to go back home because that would have meant everything was okay and you were perfectly healthy. So he prayed to hear the good news he was waiting for, to see your baby in that white wooden cot you spent a whole day choosing at the store, paired with that flowery pink bedding set his sister gave you as a gift and that had you crying as soon as you opened the box.

After fifteen minutes or so the nurse opened the door followed by the medical staff who welcomed your boyfriend with a smile, the doctor holding your file in her hands. She complimented John on your newborn and told him what he was dying to hear: you and Iris’s health status was good and you were ready to leave the hospital.

He thanked her and nodded when she gave him some quick advice on how to take care of them during the delicate moments following the baby’s birth.

After saying their goodbyes quickly John rushed back to your room with a big grin plastered on his lips.

"We're going home babies" He cooed, taking the duffle bag with all your personal belongings.

“Not so fast, Stonesy” You chuckled “Help me get out of this bed so we can get ready”

The City player giggled and helped you step out of the bed so you could stand up properly. The standing posture made you feel pain in places in didn't even know they existed and the grimace on your face told it all.

“I’ll take the baby and all her things while you put all your stuff in here” He said, directing his tall body towards the crib where his princess was looking at him with her blue eyes. “Yes baby, you’ll come with dada” 

The moment you dreamt of a lot, that is to say John making his silly little voice to speak to your daughter, finally happened and it brought genuine tears to your eyes: funny how a small, tiny creature that you met for the first time no more than 72 hours earlier, that shared every single second of the last nine months of your life with you suddenly became the most important, priceless treasure you ever put your hands on. 

You thought there were some feelings it was impossible to give form to and love was one of them, but you had to change your mind the moment you took her in your arms because you  realised the human being you were holding was the embodiment of all the love you had for her dad. So some feelings, even the strongest one, had a shape and it was astonishingly beautiful.

“Oh I see you’re already taking the baby and leaving me with the heavy things” You mumbled, feigning being angry at him.

“You had her with you for 9 months, don’t be selfish”

“Me selfish?? Oh I’d have really liked you to carry her in your belly for 9 f-”

“Oi don’t swear in front of the baby”

You laughed seeing him all concerned and covering Iris’ ears as he was glaring at you. You shook your head as you slowly started to collect all your things around the hospital room.

“Give me my breakfast, I’m starving”

“See? Your mum has already changed and uses me as her butler and credit card”

His joke caused you to roll your eyes as you were trying to get dressed while dealing with your yet aching body.

You were in some baggy pants and an oversized hoodie because it was the only outfit you were feeling like wearing as John was there looking as flawless as usual even though his fit was quite simple: a pair of jeans matched with a gray jumper and a baseball cap on made him look hotter than usual. The child seat he was carrying with your baby girl in was making him even look like a real hot daddy and your heart was bursting with love. The right word to describe how you were feeling was blessed.

When you finally stepped foot in your house you sighed in satisfaction as you just wanted to get in your bed and cuddle with your new family in peace, eating some good junk food if possible.

“Home sweet home”

John smirked and carefully put the child seat on the floor so he could take Iris out of it.

“Welcome home, baby” He lifted her up to place her against his shoulder so her head could rest against it, as they showed him in the hospital. “This is your home”

“I’ve missed it so much…I think I’m going to lay down for a while”

Lying down on your own bed, on the bed sheets you chose, in the room you shared with the man of your life gave you that much needed home feeling.

You closed your eyes in the attempt to relax but the level of weariness, of emotions you had experienced recently didn’t make it any easier for you to sleep a little.

"Ok so I'm gonna go"

"I don't wanna see anyone" You mumbled when John finally entered your room, cradling Iris in his arms. When he looked down at her to see she was asleep, he put her in the wooden cot right next to your bed.

He couldn’t help but smile: that sight was the closest to perfection he had ever seen, as that piece of furniture that had been empty for all those past weeks was now full as it should have been, hosting the most important treasure ever.

"Not you, idiot. I just wanna see you and our baby" You grumbled as your voice came out feebly due to your state of tiredness.

John smiled and was about to sit next to you on the bed as your phone started ringing, much to your dismay. You groaned in annoyance.

"Who the fuck is now?"

"Your mum"

"Tell her I can't talk, I'm sleeping"

He nodded and swiped on the screen to do as he was told. You knew your mum was dying to talk to you, to make sure you were doing okay but you just wanted to enjoy the peace of the moment and keep that special moment for you only.

When he finished talking, he finally climbed on the bed and you soon were all over him, wrapping your arms around his body and letting your head rest against his chest with your eyes closed breathing in his familiar scent, the best fragrance in the world to you.

"Are you comfortable? Maybe it's better if you lay on a pillow"

"Nope, you're my comfiest pillow"

John scoffed with a half smile and kissed your head.

"Wanna watch something on Netflix?"

"Nope, too tired" You muttered, cuddling closer to his chest.

John's lips curved in a smile as he brushed his thumb against your right cheekbone.

He then scrolled through his phone, answering all the text messages the people he knew sent him ahead of your baby girl's birth.

"What are you doing?" You really wanted and needed to crack some sleep but your mind wasn't agreeing as the level of adrenaline in your body was still too high, plus you wanted to stay awake to spend some time with John and checking on Iris. 

"Answering all the texts they've sent for Iris"

"Read me some" You wanted nothing more than to bask in the sweet words of people congratulating you, saying how beautiful your baby was and how strong you've been through all the process. After all you deserved all those sweet words: bringing a child into the world is something so brave people tend to underestimate sometimes.

John pressed play on a voice note from Kyle that made you both laugh, then read you one from Jack and at that moment your own phone rang with a notification and you asked John to check who it was from.

"It's from Sasha, she answered the pic you posted with "congrats you gorgeous mama"

"Aww she's always the sweetest"

"Well, you're everything but gorgeous now…"

"HEY" You threw a fist against his bicep with the little strength that was left in you. "I just pushed your daughter out of my vagina, you should be a little more grateful"

John loved getting on your nerves, making your thin-skinned side come to surface. He giggled, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I know I look awful and I stink as I really need to take a shower but I can't, I'm so tired" The whiny tone you pronounced those last words with was about to turn into a desperate cry but John took action just in time.

"You know I was joking" He took your face in his hands to look right into your eyes "I'd get you pregnant again right now if I could"

"Liar"

He laughed and kissed your forehead.

"I'll help you with the shower later on"

When your baby whined a little in her sleep the little yelp caught your attention as you both turned your heads towards the crib.

"There's the blanket over there, put it over her" You gestured for him to take the pink honeycomb blanket to cover your baby girl's sleeping body.

She looked so cute with that tiny blanketyou fell in love with as soon as your eyes took sight of it on the shop’s shelf and you had no doubt it would have been perfect for your beautiful baby.

“Can you believe we made her?” You asked John in awe as he was lovingly tucking her in. You got up to join him, encircling his waist with your right arm and putting your head against his bicep. "We made her teeny tiny feet, those little hands..."

“Yeah…you know what they say?”

“What?”

“Daughters tend to be more similar to their dads in the looks”

“So?”

“So if she’s beautiful that’s all thanks to me... even Kyle said it”

Another thing the collective consciousness ignored was the post pregnancy period: the danger of post-pregnancy depression was real but you knew you had the most handsome dad in the world who would have helped you along the path, even when the downs would have outnumbered the ups.

“Yeah Stones…I think you and your friend need some sleep too…you’re hallucinating”

And no, you weren't upset at all: you only wished for your daughter to be the carbon copy of her amazing father. So you hoped deep down your heart the Kyle was right.

[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?”

[tommyspeakycap]

blue

chapter five

you pay a visit to the etihad for game day, and see rúben for the first time since kyle's birthday

it’s just a short little one to fill in the stiff while i’m busy and writing the more interesting angsty chapters :)

The words 'he's won the cup, he's won the league' seem to have been printed into your brain from the amount of times they had been sung in the crowd around you and admittedly you may have joined in a few times. It's catchy, bouncing around tantalisingly in your mind just like he who that song is sung about.

"It's nice to see you again, (y/n)!" Pep beams, reaching out both of his arms wide for a hug you would probably have refused if it had come from anyone else. Pep is something of a fatherly figure to pretty much everyone he comes into contact with and he's grown to know you well through your support for John. “How are you?” He pats your back during the hug before pulling away to take in your face, a slight frown settling into his features at the hits of a black eye still lingering on your face. “I’m alright.” You shrug, “Tripped the other week,” You gesture loosely to the marking around your eye, “That game was immense.”

Pep nods enthusiastically, laughing with a clap of his hands. The manager is always hysterically animated and that doesn’t exclude conversations you have with him.

“It was, it was! Go find John, celebrate!” He cheers, giving you one last hug before ushering you down the tunnel behind some other family members. Your keep your head tilted upwards, knowing the best way to find John would be to look for his head full of fluffy brown hair above the crowds of people moving around between the changing room and the tunnel out to the etihad pitch. You wrangle your way through the bodies, twisting and turning until your crash into the broad, strong chest of someone much taller then you. His large hands grip both of your biceps, keeping you from bouncing off of him and clattering backwards to the floor. “I’m sorry.” You immediately blurt out, face flushing in embarrassment before you look up to see who the poor victim was.

“No worries.” Rúben smiles, his grin growing when he realises it’s you pressed against his chest. He releases you, allowing you to step back slightly as he takes in the sight of your flushed cheeks and shy smile. “You did so good!” You immediately yelp out enthusiastically, “That was unreal. And that really suits you too, captain.” You prod at his bicep with the white captain armband stretched around it, almost making him blush.

Now it was Rúben’s turn to produce a shy grin with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “John helped, it was team effort you know?” He makes you giggle sweetly with a shake of your head. “The worlds best defender and he’s humble eh?”

John could swear he heard your laughter. It’s pretty familiar to him, a unique one he would and does know from a mile away. It forces his eyes to drift past his team mates and his family to search for you in the crowd. The first thing his eyes spot is Rúben, head tipped back bellowing a laugh that prompts John to look at who the Portuguese centre back is finding so funny. Of course they had just had a win, but post-match Rúben was usually still stone faced and very serious. It wasn’t like him to be chatty and chortling with anyone until at least after the warm down. John is shocked to see that it’s you, laughing with him.

He hasn’t heard you laugh properly in so long.

John keeps his eyes on you two, carefully watching the interaction with stars in his eyes. Rúben is being chatty with you, and you’re laughing, giggling, smiling and it looks as though you’re telling him jokes too, your funny little puns and both of you are entirely engrossed in the conversation.

“Do you want to hang around?” Rúben sort of blurts out suddenly, “I could walk you home again?”

Your heart flutters at his words, cheeks twitching with a smile you attempt to keep suppressed. “Yeah,” you shrug, “Yeah I’d really like that, actually.”

“Okay,” Rúben smiles hugely, relief wafting through his eyes in knowing he hadn’t been too forward. “Okay. I’ll shower and meet you by the plant pots we met at last time?” You nod at his words, “See you then, i better let John know I’m not going with him.”

You bid him goodbye, giving a slight, barely there wave as you head off in the direction of the other tall centre back. John spots you squeezing through the crowd and uses his body to push through people to get to you first. It’s something John’s often done, been your shield in big crowds because he’s so much larger than you (google even says he’s taller than Rúben, but having stood with both of them you highly doubt that now.) “How’d you like the game?” John asks immediately, voice loud and booming as it always is. “It was great. You were so good, i’ve missed seeing you play you know.” You admit with a soft shrug. John smiles, noticing the happier lilt in your voice.

“I’ve missed seeing how happy you are after the games,” he notes, “But anyway, do you want to hang around here and i’ll grab a shower quick before i drop you home?” He offers, knowing this is the usual routine for home games that you attend. This time, however, you chew on your lip.

“Actually I was going to walk back, Rúben wants to see some of the city and I thought I could show him y’know?” You explain, promoting a surprised look to roll quickly over John’s face before it’s replaced by genuine happiness for you. “Oh yeah of course, do that!” He agrees enthusiastically, “Just text me when you’re home safe okay?”

You nod, standing up on your tip toes to press a kiss against his stubbly cheek. “Course. Thank you John. Love you.”

“Yeah yeah,” He hugs you tight to him, leaving a kiss on top of your hair, “I love you too. I’ll ring tomorrow.” You nod again, pulling out of his arms and leaving him with an enthusiastic wave and another well done yell as you leave towards the exit to wait for Rúben.

As per his word, he meets you about ten minutes later by the large concrete plant pots outside the etihad stadium. “Ready?” He asks, his hair still a little wet from what the towel couldn’t dry after his shower, now in a fresh set of grey joggers and a hoodie to match. “Course,” you stand up, “Let’s go.”

Walking side by side, you take off in the direction of the tram stop a little way away from the Etihad campus so as to miss the last dregs of people who may be mulling around. The streets were basically empty seeing as it had been nearly two hours since the match, but there were a few people sparing looks over at the tall defender. “Put your mask on.” You suggest, “People won’t recognise you that way.” Rúben doesn’t know how he hasn’t thought of that, but he’s glad you did and complies with what you said as you also put yours on to cover your face. “You’ve certainly got more brains than John does.” He laughs, bumping his shoulder against yours.

“Although it’s not hard, I thought you knew that by now.” You tease, “I’m the brains, John’s the brawn.”

Rúben laughs loudly, his head tipped back as he does. It’s fast becoming one of your favourite sights in the world, seeing him laugh like that.

“What stop do we take?” He asks curiously after a moment of silence while you walk along the platform to the ticket machine. “I can never remember the stop names, we’ll just get off at the Arndale and go from there yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Of course, Rúben insists on paying for both of the tickets which makes you blush but you accept it anyway. When the tram pulls in, Rúben ushers you on and into a seat and takes up the position holding onto the pole next to you. he’s heard many tram horror stories from women, so he’s always got his eyes peeled just in case, making sure he’s ready to keep you safe from wandering hands should the situation arise.

“This is us here.” You announce when the tram starts to slow at the stop. Rúben nods, moving to allow you to stand up and cautiously standing behind you incase you stumble when the vehicle stops. “Where to first then?” He asks as soon as you step off. You have a look around, eyes darting to adjust to your surroundings.

“First we eat, because i’m starved.”

You’re excited to show Rúben around the city, but less excited by the feeling it gives you. The innate desire within you to reach for his hand, to hold it and lead him through the streets the second you step off this tram. His smoothly spoken kind words, his gentle and instinctive protective nature, the way he smiles at you and it’s like the heavens have opened up to let the sun through…it’s igniting something within you that you don’t like. It’s starting something that you do not want.

So you catch yourself, stop letting your mind wander and remind yourself first and foremost that this is not what you really want.

and there’s a storm you’re starting now…i’m a wanderess, i’m a one night stand, don’t belong to no city don’t belong to no man

[possibilistfanfiction]

lilith

[obsessed with this ask, first of all. second of all, lilith pov from footy au for @unicyclehippo.]

//

you meet beatrice for the first time when you’re fourteen, and she’s thirteen. you’re in different club academies but you vaguely, before this, had heard of her: girls around you talk, hushed, when she walks in, because she’s the youngest and everyone is already saying she’s the best, a generational talent — beatrice xin, the next great center midfielder, the future of football. that’s what you want to be, so badly you can taste it, so badly that when you miss an easy tap in the first day of camp you bite the inside of your cheek so hard you draw blood.

it’s not your first time at national team camp, but it is hers. maybe because you’re serious and driven, or maybe because you don’t find enjoyment in the pranks other girls like to play, and you don’t eat the junk food they sneak in in tampon boxes, they have her room with you. you were the youngest once; you remember.

you’re both reserved and careful, not particularly friendly, but beatrice’s stems from awkwardness, from a split second of figuring out how to read social cues around her while everyone else laughs. she’s thin and kind of small, her face full and young. she has freckles and braces and little wisps of her hair escape her bun; she unpacks efficiently into the little dresser on her side of the room: simple underwear, sports bras, joggers, hoodies. she pulls out a little leatherbound journal and a book in a language you don’t know and a pen and lines them up with military precision on the desk. she sets her little shower caddy on top of the dresser and neatly places her toiletries in it: acne cream, shampoo and conditioner, a fresh bar of lavender soap, lotion, sunscreen. ‘i’m going to freshen up before dinner,’ she says, impossibly formal and a little funny, honestly, but it doesn’t seem kind — not yet, anyway — to tease her about it.

you wait for her to come out of the bathroom at the end of the hall and back to your room. her black hair is in a neat braid, the wet ends darkening her t-shirt, which she’s tucked into a pair of joggers, which, for some reason, hurts you a little bit. 

‘ready?’

she seems surprised when you’re still there; you’re in a hoodie and shorts and slides, and you wait for her to neatly tie a pair of — admittedly, very cool — sneakers and then nod. ‘lilith,’ she says, gently and tentatively touching your elbow, ‘thank you.’

‘for what?’

‘for waiting for me.’ i’m used to being alone, she means, and she’s quiet throughout all of dinner, only adding into the conversation when someone brings up a type of bird they saw this morning, which she knows the latin name for and all of its characteristics, and she eats with the most exacting bites you’ve ever seen.

i’m used to being alone, she means, as you both settle in your small, twin beds later — ‘goodnight, beatrice,’ you say. you’re not alone, and neither is she.

‘sleep well, lilith.’

/

beatrice is, you can admit by the time you’re sixteen, the best in the world. maybe not yet — although, some days, when you play with her and watch her beat players twice her age without breaking a sweat, one after another through the midfield, or in a tight space around the 18, or even on the touchline if she drifts for a give and go — you think maybe she already is. 

her time on youth sides is running out, you know, because she is a generational talent, because everyone wants her already. she seems, mostly, unfazed by it all, still stoic and focused and brilliant. she gets her high school diploma at fifteen; she tells you, quietly while you juggle together in the courtyard of the hotel you’re at one tournament when neither of you can sleep, that she’s enrolled in online college classes and has enjoyed the challenge so far: she’s learning german, and she’s taking a revolutionary chinese history course, and her favorite is calculus iii. she’s kind of bizarre, but you’re fond of her. sometimes she texts you pictures of her cat between camps, and you send her any meme that makes you laugh privately.

you’re a little surprised when she’s on the u-20 world cup squad with you, mostly because you had honestly thought she might get pulled into the senior squad, at least for some friendlies, but you’re glad she’s here: you’re nervous, and restless. when you had told your mother that you’d gotten called up, tamping down any expectations for excitement as hard as you could, she had said, ‘as we expected of you,’ and continued on with her day.

‘do you have a boyfriend?’ you ask into the dark. 

you hear her roll around in bed for a few moments, probably turning to face toward you, and then she says, ‘when would i have time to have a boyfriend?’

you shrug. ‘i don’t know; seo-jun and nora have boyfriends.’

‘i guess.’

‘so that’s a no, from you.’

she laughs. ‘do you have a boyfriend?’

‘ew, no. have you met sixteen year old boys?’

‘i know. disgusting. i don’t know what the point is of boys, anyway. i’m too busy with football.’

you understand the point of boys, in a way: you like looking at mohammed’s arms when you’re training together, the way they press and cut when you’re doing push-ups. you’ve kissed him; you kiss him often. ‘yeah,’ you say, because it’s not your truth to name for her. ‘gross.’

/

it’s unsurprising to you when you get signed to the same club team beatrice debuted for two years ago, when she was sixteen. they’re building a franchise around her, bringing in young talent and trading for the world’s best veterans. she’d been on loan abroad for a spell, came back even more lethal, even more deadly — she’s taller, now, and still thin enough trainers are always on her to put on muscle. she spends extra time in the weight room — she spends extra time doing everything — and you’d never tell, but beatrice is the best in the world because she doesn’t allow herself anything else, even when she’s hurting and exhausted.

you have nothing better to do, and you’ve, admittedly, missed her, so you agree to spot her while she does more squats. when you see the weight she racks up you’re glad for the state of the art recovery facilities they have, and for the rest day you have tomorrow. 

she pushes through her first set, her face turning red but her expression perfectly calm, her quarterzip neatly tucked in, and it’s kind of terrifying. ‘you’re kind of terrifying.’

she racks the bar and steps out from under it, takes a big deep breath, shakes out her shoulders. ‘i’m small.’

‘you’re eighteen.’

she considers it. ‘i have to get bigger.’

it’s a razor’s edge, football and greatness: beatrice will train until she can’t; beatrice will eat exactly what she’s supposed to; beatrice will run until she throws up; beatrice will sleep exactly as she’s supposed to, and take all of her recovery seriously, and —

‘after this set, do you want to get a drink?’

‘a drink?’

you laugh at her indignation. ‘yeah, one drink. dinner, maybe? i don’t know any good spots around yet.’

‘oh,’ she says, ‘i don’t really go out, and i don’t drink. but —‘ it takes her a moment — ‘yes, we can. mary and shannon like a place across from the grounds.’

‘is it quinoa bowls?’

she blushes, steps back under the bar. 

‘i want a burger and a cocktail, beatrice. please.’

she does her other set, straining for the last two, unable to keep it off her face. ‘fine,’ she says, out of breath once she finishes, ‘fine.’

/

you’re twenty-one, at a celebration after a championship, and you’re drunk. beatrice is laughing, her hair somehow pulled out of its bun; she’d won the golden ball, which, since the first touch of preseason, seemed inevitable: she is, very concretely, the best in the world. 

‘come dance!’ ashante says, tugs on her hands, and she shakes her head but when you say, ‘yeah, beatrice, come on,’ she sighs and follows you out onto the dance floor. there are plenty of hot boys, and beatrice is beautiful, you can easily admit. she’s weird and a huge nerd — she has a bachelor’s degree in ecological anthropology, which she’d worked on for fun — but you love her. she’s your friend, and you want to celebrate with her. she hasn’t been drinking, so she’s stiff and awkward, even more than usual, in loose slacks and a collarless button down which she lets you unbutton down to the middle of her chest without any fanfare. a few guys walk up to you — beatrice xin, holy shit — and then you’re dancing. it’s easy, after a few shots, to close your eyes and let everything drift away around you. 

but then you hear beatrice say, ‘stop,’ and the guy she was dancing with doesn’t, not quick enough, not immediately, and you see red.

you get kicked out, which only avoids the media because the bouncers let you leave through the back. beatrice clenches her jaw and her hands and your knuckles smart, already bruising.

‘i can handle myself,’ she says, although you see the way her body is trembling.

‘i know,’ you say, because you do. ‘but you don’t have to, not all the time.’

you wait in the alley, shivering, for a car; it’s silent and just after a spurt of rain, and, after a beat, she laughs. ‘did we get into a bar fight?’

you grin over at her. ‘who says we don’t know how to have fun, huh?’

/

‘are you gonna do the pride thing?’

beatrice looks far too calm for being in an ice bath. ’no, not publicly.’

‘yeah, that’s cool,’ you say. ‘mary and shannon are, like, the couple, anyway. marketing has an easy out there.’

she snorts. ‘easy out.’

you roll your eyes. 

‘i’m —‘ she takes a deep breath — ‘i’m a lesbian.’

‘okay,’ you say, and fight the desperate urge to laugh and say yes, beatrice, everyone and their mother knows, that’s why i asked if you were going to be in the pride campaign. ‘obviously, that’s cool with me.’

horrifyingly, she starts to cry. ‘i’ve never said it out loud before.’

she’s twenty-one, so, fair, you guess, but it also makes you so sad. ‘well, now you have. in an ice bath, no less.’

‘yes.’ she sounds a little in awe of herself. ‘i have.’

‘do you, like, want me to hug you?’

she wrinkles her nose. ‘no. but, thank you.’

‘anytime.’ you pause, then try your luck, ‘so can we find you a girlfriend now, or —‘

she splashes you with a flick of water and you could kill her, you really could.

/

‘beatrice!’ you shout into her intercom. ‘let me in!’

it takes about a minute, and you’re about to, like, scale her giant fence or something, but then the gate opens and you drive through. it’s not that you care about her — she makes it hard; you make it hard right back — but she’s your captain and you’re not going to win a fucking world cup if she’s not recovering from surgery.

‘lilith,’ she says, dry, even though it’s a little slurred and she looks wobbly on her crutches.

‘mary and shannon sent me.’ you hold up a bag of food, stupid healthy shit she insists on eating, even when she’s on pain meds. ‘i can knock you over, right now, so you have to let me in.’

‘fine,’ she says, lacking its usual precise clip. you follow her to her kitchen, slowly, while she carefully crutches, exactly how a physical therapist showed her, you’re sure. she’s exhausted, you can tell, her hair down and a little messy, her hoodie crooked on her shoulders, just in a pair of tight nike boxers and a sock on the foot opposite her cast, as if you’d woken her up from a nap.

‘were you sleeping?’

‘i’m on — a lot of medication.’

‘you can go back to sleep, if you want. i can put the food in the fridge and warm it up in a bit?’

she seems to weigh her options, slowly, but her eyes are drifting closed and she sways a little. ‘okay. you can watch anything you want. or leave, if you don’t want to wait.’

‘oh, i’m fully taking advantage of your gorgeous house and your giant tv. i’m not crazy.’

she had ankle surgery two days ago, so you know she really is exhausted. disgustingly, she was watching what looks to be like game film on her tv. ‘disgusting,’ you tell her, and she doesn’t seem to really pay you much mind because she situates her casted ankle on top of a few pillows and then pulls a soft blanket over herself and snuggles down into the couch. she’s asleep almost immediately, and you put on schitt’s creek, just in case she drifts in and out and wakes up. she doesn’t; you have to shake her awake two hours later at a normal dinner time. you warm up her food for her, as promised, and eat your bowl beside her, then get her water and her next dose of pain medication.

‘we’re signing ava silva,’ she says, marginally more awake for a good five minutes. 

ava silva, wunderkind with the worst injury you’ve ever seen; a 9 too. ‘i thought i was replacing shannon.’

‘i’m sure you will,’ beatrice assures you. ‘we need a sub, at least.’

‘you think she’ll be good.’

‘we both know she’s good, lilith.’

she settles back into the couch. ‘you think she’ll be great.’

she smiles a little absently, but genuine all the same. ‘let’s hope so.’

eventually, you wake her up and help her to bed, despite the fact that she tries to do it herself, even up her steep stairs. i’m used to being alone, you understand still. 

she gets situated in her giant, gorgeous bed in her perfect house, all gossamer curtains fluttering in the salt breeze off the ocean. ‘thanks, lilith.’

‘sleep well, beatrice.’

/

(and ava silva, it turns out, is great, although you’d rather die than say it out loud. beatrice stands in front of the full length mirror in the fitting room and smooths down the non-existent wrinkles in her traditional chinese wedding outfit, bright red and embroidered in gold. it’s probably the most incredible piece of clothing you’d ever seen.

‘what do you think?’

it’s an insane question, really. ‘you look… you look really beautiful, beatrice.’

she smiles, shyly; you’re thirty, now, old enough to be able to feel an easy fondness. ‘thank you.’

‘you owe me a burger and many, many cocktails after this, though.’

‘sure, sure.’

if you cry at their wedding while ava stands in a wispy, open-backed dress and smiles so big her eyes almost close and, with steady hands, promises everything to beatrice, to, maybe, your first friend — well, no one says a word.)

[bahrtofane]

Jude misses his spanish class, and that somehow ends with the both of you stuck in a dark elevator, legs tangled and annoying each other till help comes

Word count - 3.5K+ 

Watch it - ur trapped in an elevator with jude, lights go out, you accidentally sock him, fluff tho hehehe

a/n - shout out to my bff best plooki for sending me the last jude pic, its what inspired this whole thing. nmout 3lik kho

—--

Jude is late to spanish class (again) so he's forced to sit for the staff ones instead. his mom will kill him if he misses any more, and his teammates will only tease him more. With the amount of promotional content and youtube videos he has to film soon, he literally doesn’t have the time to skip another class. 

The only open seat is by you in the far corner, so he slides in as discreetly as he can. Which turns out isn’t all that discrete when all eyes are on him from the moment he steps into the room but it’s whatever. He'll live. 

He pulls out his ipad and takes notes like the good student he is and pretends not to notice your gaze on him. He sits like such a teenage boy, legs spread and arms dangling over the table. 

You haven’t been with Madrid all that long, you came along as an intern, eager to find your footing. Having one of the players all up next to you during class was not something you saw coming, you’ve met maybe one or two of them, after you got lost and ended up in the training facilities and they so graciously led the way out of the maze. 

You’ve honestly been so busy with just getting settled you completely forgot the players existed. And here Jude is.

You stick your head back to your notes and hunker down for the hour left of spanish.  You don't miss his stray gazes that land on you. 

-----

Jude is a quiet guy you learn. He chews his bottom lip and blinks a little harshly at times. He's a pretty standard run of the mill guy and you try to treat him as such. He leaves you be, letting you have your space and pays attention to whatever the professor is saying in favor of talking to anyone. 

When class is over you gather your things, slipping out from behind him and head to the elevator. Why the class is on the top floor you have yet to figure out. You like this elevator anyway, it's down the hall from the main big one that everyone crowds into, usually empty. Even though it lacks the big windows that overlook the pitches.

You see Jude jog to the elevator, you slide your hand out ,holding the doors open for him and he smiles at you in thanks, you smile back. It's silent save the hum of the elevator moving down.

Until it screeches to a halt, jolting the both of you so fast you land on the floor, legs tangled, things strewn all over the floor. Jude looks away while he picks himself up, helping track down your pens that roll across the floor. When you smooth your clothes down and find your footing, another jolt rocks the small metal box you're in. 

Jude instinctively reaches out to steady himself, his hand landing on the railing beside you. You lurch forward and almost land right on him again. But you manage to keep your composure, and footing. Thank god. 

"What in the world?" Jude asks, brows furrowing. 

"I... I'm not sure," you reply, your heart still racing from the amusement park ride you never signed up for. Does Madrid not keep their elevators up to date on what is going on. 

You both glance around the elevator, trying to assess the situation, and half waiting for another lurch. It's eerily quiet, and you notice the emergency button panel is dimly lit.

"Should we... press the emergency button?" you suggest tentatively, eyeing the panel.

"Probably our best bet" Jude agrees, reaching out to press the button. After a moment, a crackly voice comes through the intercom, 

"Hello? Is someone in need of assistance?" a nasally voice comes to life. She sounds like your aunt kinda.

"Yeah, the elevator stopped suddenly, and we're not sure what's going on," Jude explains.

“Ah okay, which elevator? There should be a number and letter over the doors.”

“2C.” you real aloud.

"Perfect thank you. We’ll have people get to you as soon as we can. Please remain calm and stay where you are," the voice responds before the intercom falls silent again.

You exchange a look with Jude, both of you silently hoping that help arrives soon. The minutes tick by slowly, and the silence in the elevator becomes almost suffocating.

"So... Do you have any plans for after this?" Jude asks, breaking the silence. Even if its a little awkward.

You shake your head, grateful for the distraction. "Not really. Just some studying, I guess. What about you?"

Jude shrugs. "Probably just head back to my place if they don't need me. Training was pretty intense this morning."

You nod, "Sounds hectic."

"Yeah, it can be," Jude admits, scratching the back of his neck. "But it comes with the territory, I guess.

You fall into a silence again, playing with the hem of your shirt. Jude tucks his ipad under his arm and sighs deeply. Now that you take a good look at him, it looks like he booked it right from training. Slides and socks on, madrid shirt and shorts. Interesting. 

You move to push the button again after what feels like ages, but this time the voice doesn't answer. 

“What the..” you mumble. You reach for your phone but as luck would have it there is no connection. 

Jude slides to the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce and trying his luck on his phone. 

“No signal either huh.” he grumbles.

“Nope, we really just have to wait on them then.” 

“I hope they hurry it up, no offense.”

You shrug, ”none taken.” sliding to take a seat on the floor opposite to him. 

Little do you know you're about to spend the next 4 hours in this elevator together. 

—-

It turns out there is only so much small talk you can make in an hour with a total stranger. Trust, you know. 

After telling your life story, and him his, you’ve both run out of things to say. So you sit, drumming against the metal walls, taking turns pressing the help button and being greeted with the sweet sound of silence each time.

“What the actual hell are they doing.” Jude groans.

“Ignoring us.” 

You just might lose your mind. Your legs are starting to go numb, and you watch Jude  grow more agitated as time presses on. Thankfully there's been no more lurches downward, a win is a win. You get up periodically to stretch your legs out, checking your phone, reorganizing your bag, playing rock paper scissors, telling each other stories.

Jude is a silly guy, very competitive even after your 10th round of tic tac toe. 

“I win again.” He cackles. 

You wave him off, “Yeah yeah it’s just luck.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he smiles. 

He goes back to the red button, and once again there’s no answer. You’re half way to losing your mind. How do they just forget about you here? You try texting people, and nothing goes through. Jude walks around the little space, arm raised and pointing his phone up in hopes of catching a signal. 

“Oh wait I think- never mind. Not even one bar will hold in here.” He slumps back down against the wall. 

“I actually can’t believe they’re not answering.” You groan, head in your hands. 

“Me neither. “

You resort to looking through your phone for any games to pass the time. But you need a signal for just about all of them. Might as well clear out your photos right? Jude joins, scooting next to you.

“Don't mind if I watch?”

You shake you head, “nah, just getting rid of old pictures.”

He nods.

Now you just have to be triple careful of not accidentally swiping through any embarrassing pictures. You don't thankfully, instead your room back home pops up, after you redecorated it. Zidane jersey hanging off your wall.

Jude perks up at this, “Zidane fan?” 

“Very big one.”

He smiles, “me too.”

“I've heard. What's he like?”

“Zidane? Hm, he's well, elegant. Classy. He's a calm guy.”

You nod, tucking your phone back inside your pocket, turning to face him, “have you seen him play in a charity match with ronaldo?”

He laughs ,”yeah the one with that insane title, fat old ronaldo does hat trick.”

You giggle, “that's the one.”

He hums, leaning his head back on the wall and you fall into silence again. 

More time passes and you don’t think you have it in you to reorganize your bag for another time. 

“I have an idea.” you declare as you move into the second hour.

Jude raises a brow.

“Might as well do our Spanish homework right?”

“I might die.” he dead pans.

You roll your eyes, “its better than doing nothing.”

“Nu uh, no way. I choose nothing.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrug.

10 minutes later Jude sits down next to, pulling his ipad out and getting to work. You smile, “see, I told you.”

“Yeah yeah,” he grumbles, “can you help me on number 4?”

You do, leaning against him and walking him through the conjugation of each word, your fingers brush against the iPad screen and you hope he doesn't notice how you blush. 

Hours in an elevator with Jude bellingham what is this a bad fanfic plot?

You end up finish the pages of homework side by side and Jude smiles

“That wasn't half bad actually, thanks for the help.”

“No problem. We make a pretty good team huh?” you tease.

He snorts, “I guess so.”

It turns out Jude is really bad at staying in once place, he does anything but keep still, throwing his slides at the buttons periodically, and one even hits the help button, this time the voice answers. 

“Hello?” it's a completely different voice his time, male. 

“Thank god hello.” Jude scrambles to get up properly, and you follow suit, leaning closer to the little speaker. 

“I'm sorry?”

“We've been in this elevator for what, 2 hours now and no ones been answering the call button? Fucking ridiculous.”

“I apologize for the inconvenience, we've been short staffed and I clocked in a few minutes ago.”

“For fucks sake, thats great and all but can you get us out?”

There's a pause, and for a second you think they're going to hang up and there will be no hope. You will die in this elevator. 

Luckily for you the voice comes to life again, “would you like us to call the fire department?”

“What do you think?” Jude dead pans.

“We will keep you updated, but for now it's looking like a wait time of 45 minutes to an hour. “

Both of you groan, dramatically falling to the floor.

“You'd think Madrid would have better staffing,” he rubs his eyes.

“You think.” you agree. 

“Im so gonna complain about this.” he squints his eyes at the buttons, almost like he's threatening them.

“Hey it could be worse, you could have missed a game.”

“Very true.”

He chews his lip before turning to you, a glint in his eyes, “Wanna play hot hands?” he tries.

“Sure why not.”

You shuffle so you're facing him once again, You're up first, palms up while Jude hovers his hands palm down over yours, and wow are his hands huge, completely covering your own. The name of the game is to manage to slap his hands faster than he can move them away. 

And so it begins. 

Unsurprisingly, Jude has keen reflexes, and you only shake your head at him. 

“I'm at an unfair disadvantage, whereas VAR.”

He giggles, “VAR or no var, you're losing,” he shrugs.

It's just enough of a distraction to get you your first win.

“Lets gooo.” you celebrate. 

“VAR immediately, time wasting, yellow card, red card, extra time.”

You smile, “you're just mad I won.”

“Yeah you won unfairly. “He sulks.

“Yeah yeah, your turn.”

He sighs dramatically, but puts his palms up regardless. 

You're too focused on his hands, skittering at any movement, so much so you end up jumping and throwing your hands out so fast you slap him. Uh oh.

“Oh my god i'm so sorry, are you okay.” you reach out and cradle his face, a little red but nothing too bad thank god. You almost took out Madrid's star boy, you're just an intern, you do NOT have the money to fund any legal cases. 

You don't even notice he's laughing, giggles bursting from his lips while you watch on. His eyes are big, oh my god, he's got those big brown beautiful eyes. People weren't kidding. He's even more handsome in person. You want to kiss him. Oh yeah you're holding his face, you drop your hands away and roll your eyes, trying to play off the blush that's spanning your face. 

“I'm fine, don't worry. You got a mean arm, ever think of being a goalie?” he teases. 

“I'm going to be Barcas goalie. How about that.” you shoot back, though there's no real bite to your words. 

He only laughs harder, “hot hands really makes you competitive huh.”

“It wasn't my fault okay, you moved too fast.” 

He only shakes his head, “I think you're the sore loser.”

“No but seriously, are you good?” 

He waves you off, “nah i'm good seriously, you're fine.”

You sigh in relief. 

He snorts, “no more hot hands for you.”

You squint at him, “I'm going to sleep.”

You make a pillow out of your bag and try to nap. Might as well at this point. Jude seems to share a similar idea as he lays down opposite to you, tucking his arms under him and screwing his eyes shut.

It turns out sleeping on the floor on an elevator is extremely uncomfortable, and you get about 5 minutes of shut eye before Jude somehow has his legs rolled into yours.

“ ‘M Sorry,” he mumbles. But you don't say anything, wiggling your feet back under his and trying to get some shut eye. 

—--

At the turning of the third hour you get woken up by the crackle of the magic voice in the wall, “the wait is up about an hour to an hour and a half.”

“What's taking so long,” you huff, eyes still blurry from your sleep.

“We apologize for the delay but there's a back up in call logs and-”

“Yeah we get it you're understaffed whatever. Just please hurry up.” Jude bites back, nearing closer and closer to you. 

The voice fizzles away and the sleep has worn off you, enough so to realize he's almost spooning you. You sit up, but Jude remains as he is, breathing soundly as he uses his hands to cover the harsh elevator lights that beat down on him. You're surprised the lights haven't- 

You spoke too soon. Way way too soon. The lights go out within an instant and you almost scream, jolting against Jude.

This stirs him awake again, and he's oh so confused at the lack of lights. The secondary elevators are great, but there are no windows. Just solid metal on all ends. Leaving the two of you in complete darkness. 

“Jude?’ 

You hear shuffling, “Yeah, I'm right here don't worry. “

“This is kinda freaky now.” you trail off.

“Hey, we'll be fine. Look on the bright side, it's easier to sleep.”

You snort, “Yeah guess so,” But the ease doesn't wear off of you. 

“Here,” you feel Jude’s hands reach for yours. Feeling for them in the darkness till they're laced together. “Now it's not so bad right?”

You can feel your face heat up,“Not bad at all.”

“How sick would hot hands in the dark be? Just think-”

“Absolutely not.” you sigh.

He giggles again, teasing you is surprisingly very very fun for him. This is the most fun he's had all day. Every time you turn away while you blush only fuels him to tease you more. Out of all the people to be stuck in here with, he thinks he got pretty lucky with it being you. 

But as sweet as you are, the situation only seems to get worse. He uses his free hand to feel for the button again, and the voice comes back.

“The lights just went off. I hope they're on their way.“ Jude speaks.

“The wait is about an hour.” the speaker says.

“My fucking god.” he sighs. 

“Were supposed to wait in the dark, for an hour?” you can't believe it.

The voice mumbles another apology and Jude only tells them to go away if they’re going to be completely and utterly useless. And alone you two go. 

—-

You start singing by the fourth hour. You're completely tangled in Jude’s legs, unable to even see what's in front of you in the pitch black darkness, but you can feel him. And it keeps you grounded, keeps away the panic. He pats your back while he sings stupid songs, trying to cheer you up and mind off of the situation as much as he can. The teasing doesn't stop, and you're starting to like it. (You liked it from the beginning).

If someone told you you'd be cuddling Jude Bellingham on the floor of an elevator in the darkness after class, you're pretty sure you'd call the nearest psych ward. But here you are. You think you’re sitting sideways on his lap, while he sits back to the wall, your arms tangled. You've started to trace shapes on his arms.

Who knew an elevator would be the perfect place to bond.

“You smell nice.” Jude mumbles into the crook of your neck.

You hum,” thank you.”

“You know, this is pretty nice. You're a good cuddler.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. my rooms a better spot though.”

You try not to freeze up too much, but you're sure he can feel you go rigid next to him.

“I bet it is,” you mumble into his shoulder 

He laughs, easy and light, “You’re pretty cute too.”

“You cant even see me it's literally pitch black in here.”

“So?” 

“You're silly Jude.”

“So i've been told”

You get comfy again, sliding a hand to his back and scratching lightly. 

He melts within an instant, “that actually feels really nice…” he trails off, leaning against your shoulder. 

“You’re like an overgrown puppy, “ you laugh. 

He only snorts, leaning forward to allow you better access to his back.

—--

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the voice comes to life, and Jude is not in the mood. 

“What is it?” 

“The wait is now 10 to 15 minutes, please step back from the doors and do not be alarmed when the fire department needs to possibly force the doors open.”

“Finally.” You sigh, squishing your face into his neck. 

“Finally.” He confirms. 

After a few minutes. You hear the sound of footsteps outside the elevator and voices chattering. 

“Alright guys, sit tight, should be a few minutes and you’ll be outta here.” A voice says on the other end. 

“Alright.” Jude replies, gently getting up and separating from you. 

“We’re gonna need you guys to step back.”

You do as much, trying to feel for your bag to kick it away from the door. 

Jude rests a hand on your hip and you smile, even if you can't see it you bet he's doing the same. 

The doors are manually pried open, and you're greeted by the sweet sweet faces of firemen and security. 

"Are you two okay?" the fireman asks, helping you both out of the elevator.

"Yeah, we're fine. Just glad to be out of there," you say with a sigh of relief.

As you step out into the hallway, you and Jude exchange grateful smiles. Unsurprisingly people crowd to him and make sure he's all good. He waves them off instead pointing them in your direction. You insist you're all good, no injuries. After thanking everyone you slip away and begin walking down the hall. After all, you don't expect him to actually mean anything there. You just got stuck together for a while, and got comfortable. That's all.

You think this is the 4th floor? Down the stairs you go. 

The man is full of surprises. He catches up to you, shouting your name and closing the door to the stairs behind him.

“Had enough of me?” 

“Eh four hours seems like enough.” you shrug. 

He rolls his eyes, “so you don't give me your number then if i ask?”

“Only if you ask nicely. And I don't even have a Spanish number yet, I'll have to get yours.” 

(you want his number sooo bad you might explode, this can't be real.)

“Would you like to get my number then?” he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly shy, ‘only if you want you know you don't have to just because the whole elevator thing i mean-”

You cut him off with a kiss to the check, “I'd love to get your number Jude. And thanks for being so nice in there.” 

He looks to the ground, playing with his hands, “yeah anytime.” 

You hand him your phone and he takes a contact picture right there, with the most obnoxious contact name to match. 

‘the best elevator buddy Jude <3’

You smile, “I'll text you when I can, yeah?”

He hums, waving you off, slipping the door open with his foot and setting off in the opposite direction. What a day huh?