#ruben loftus cheek blurbs

[footballffbarbiex]

player: Ruben Dias / Ruben Loftus-Cheek words: 1685 request: Ruben / You / 500 – 900 / You are from LA so you never got to experience a white Christmas as a child and build a snowman so Ruben and his family have a snowman building contest with you❤️

(which Ruben wasn't specified so I tried not to elaborate too much on specifics which could be for either. I also tweaked the request slightly. either way, I hope this is ok)

You’d seen the Hallmark movies of it snowing on Christmas Eve. You’d heard of the issues that snow brought, how it could bring cities and towns to a complete standstill but having lived under the hot LA sun almost all of your life, you’d never even seen a snowflake with your own eyes, let alone the inches of white stuff that December was supposed to bring. 

Ruben had shown you pictures of him in knee length snow, and others of him at home with his family growing up and during his club playing days.He always looked happy, cold but the smile rarely slipped from his face.  He promised you that at the first sign of snow approaching, he’d do what he could to ensure you had the best experience with it and you’d sworn that you’d hold him to it. 

So far, December has proven to be freezing with Ruben constantly reminding you that “this is still autumn, sorry. Fall,” he’d say in an exaggerated accent, “and you still have time to go before experiencing a real winter.” He’d head out, thick coat unzipped and no scarf on while the tip of his nose and his fingers resembled ice cubes while you trudged behind him in a sweater, thick coat, gloves, scarf and hat and still felt the cold seeping into your bones. He’d warm up within ten minutes or so once in the warmth but it felt like an age before you’d defrosted and could feel your limbs again comfortably. If this truly was still fall, Winter was not a season that you were particularly excited for anymore. 

Everywhere the two of you have visited has been incredibly busy. streets were flooded with bodies scrambling in and out of shop doors and spilling out into the roads as more people grew impatient with those who preferred dawdling. Shopping here was a whole new experience but Ruben kept you close to him at all times with an arm protectively wrapped around your back and guiding you to where you both needed to go. 

“It’s going to snow soon,” Ruben stated, looking down at you with a big grin. 

“You can’t know that.” you’d challenged, sniffing at the air but only taking in a ridiculous amount of coldness which seems to burn your sinuses. 

“I can. And it will. I can smell it in the air.”

You thought he sounded ridiculous and you backed up your belief by betting him a weeks worth of household chores. By the time you returned home, your feet ached more than you thought possible and the bath that Ruben made for you helped to both warm you back up and soothe your aching body. Climbing into the bed, you vaguely remembered Ruben saying something about the first snowflakes of the year beginning to fall but you were too exhausted to fully take in what he was saying before you slipped into the land of nod. 

-

The smell of breakfast and coffee coaxes you slowly from your sleep. Your eyes still feel heavy and giving a little stretch only confirms that your muscles still haven’t forgiven you for yesterday. Opening one eye only, you glance around and note that Ruben hasn’t joined you back in the bed yet. Testing the waters a little further, you stick a foot out and immediately pull it back under the duvet as the cold hits your skin. 

“Please put the heating on Ruben,” you groan to yourself as you pull the duvet up and over your head and you snuggle back down into the warmth as you come around properly. You may have fallen asleep again, you may have just taken a while to fully awake, which one it was, you’re really not sure but by the time you’re pulling back the duvet and sitting up while wiping sleep from your eyes, you can hear Ruben making his way upstairs. 

His large size takes up the doorframe impressively as always, and in his hands is a drink for himself and a hot caffeinated drink for yourself if the smell was anything to go by. It’s only once your hands wrap around the mug that he offers you that you also realise that the bite in the air has now disappeared thanks to the radiators being in full swing now. It was bliss. 

“I was right by the way.” Ruben states proudly as he takes a sip of his drink and perches himself on the edge of the bed. 

“Hmmm? In what way?” you ask before blowing over the surface of the drink and tentatively taking a small sip. 

“It snowed.” he says, a grin spreading across his face as surprise contorts your expression. 

“For real?” You make quick work of putting down your mug and heading over to the window. The chill alone through the glass makes you shiver but there it is, just like Ruben promised. Blankets of thick white covering the lawn, patio, the tree branches and bird feeders. The football posts and net that is always assembled has an impressive amount across the bar and more continues to fall from the sky. The clouds are a dark grey and it doesn’t appear like it’ll stop any time soon. “Can we go out in it?” 

“Not before you’ve drunk your drink and there’s breakfast downstairs. Trust me, you’ll need something warm in your belly if you’re going to be going out there.”

And Ruben wasn’t wrong. Even beneath the multitude of layers which you’d piled on before stepping outside, the moment the door was open, the coldness took your breath away. You’ve taken several photos for you to look back on and maybe a few to upload to your social media for those back home to see. It really was beautiful. Freezing cold but beautiful. 

“I feel guilty for ruining it.” you comment, turning to look at him as he stands behind you equally wrapped up.

“You don’t need to go out if you don’t want to.” he offers you another solution. 

“And what if i never get this chance again?”

“You’ll see snow again.”

“It’s taken me this many years just to experience this. But to get snow this close to Christmas? How often have you had a white Christmas?” 

“You’ve got me there. Rarely. Maybe once, twice max.”

“Exactly.” You say sternly and turn back to the white garden. You lift your foot and hesitantly take that first step, not wanting to ruin the picturesque scene before you but you couldn’t deny that first crunch of the crust breaking is incredibly satisfying. 

The next step was just as beautiful. And the one after that. And the one after that. Pausing, you pull your phone from your pocket to take a quick snap of the footsteps imprinted and find yourself looking into Ruben’s camera as he takes a picture of you too. 

“Look how happy you are.” He notes, a boyish grin on his own face from watching you. You hadn’t noticed you were smiling but now he’s pointed it out, you can feel it oh too clearly. 

“I feel like a child at…well, Christmas.”

“Consider this an early present then.”

“I want to build a snowman and have a snowball fight but I don't want to mess it all up.”

“Why don’t we walk right up to the back there and make our snowmen and then come back a-”

“Can we try and walk back in our footsteps so we’re not disturbing it too much?” you ask him, eyes large and pleading. 

“Of course baby.” He says and steps into your prints. 

Despite being outside less than five minutes, the cold is already penetrating your skin and chilling your bones. Your fingers ache within the softness of the gloves that Ruben made you wear. He’d stood you in front of him and dressed you like he would a child. He’d tucked your scarf in, adjusted your hat and ensured that your gloves were pulled up high on your wrist to be tucked into the sleeve of your coat. “I know these weather conditions better than you. I don’t want you being sick for Christmas because you weren’t properly dressed for this.” he’d said before kissing your nose. 

You trudge up where you know the path is but unable to currently see it and keep going until you find a good open space which seems ideal for snowman building. Ruben appears beside you within a few seconds and stares at the space alongside you. 

“How should we tackle this?” You ask and look up at him. 

“Do you picture a snowman with a head, belly and base where the legs should be or just a head and belly? Do you picture two or three balls?”

“Two. I don’t think I could manage three. My hands are too cold, I fear they may fall off before I finish making him.”

“At least I could add them for authenticity.” Ruben jokes then swallows back his laugh when catches your facial expression. “The bottom ball needs to be bigger than the top. We can start with a snowball and then keep adding to it and adding to it until it’s the right size. Then we’ll add these,” he pauses to pull out something out of his pocket. Unbeknown to you, he’d scoured the house for things that could be used for this exact reason. He also retrieves a carrot too. “for the snowman’s face and buttons. I can put on my hat and scarf.”

“But then you’ll be cold.”

“We’ll get a few more English winters into you and you’ll barely feel it at all.” He grins, before bending at the waist and scoops up a handful of snow. “We better get going. Knowing English weather, it’ll start raining soon and all of this will be washed away.”

You’re not sure if he’s joking or not, but you’ve had your fair share of rain so far and you’re not about to start doubting him now. You mirror him, bending to scoop up your own handful and cast him a warm smile, “then let's begin.”

[macybeckham7]

RLC and you talking about his future and he asking you

‘I don’t think I am going to be with Chelsea next season’ he admits during dinner one night. He looks around the restaurant as he explains that he thinks it’s time for him to move on, telling you that there’s only certain amount of time he can be loaned out and on the bench for them. You listen to him and nod in agreement. ‘That being said, a lot of clubs are interested, AC Milan being one of them’ he says. He starts to say about how some ex teammates are in Italy and have being telling him how good it is over there and telling you, you’ll have some familiar faces too. ‘How would you be feeling about it all?’ he asks. Ultimately you’d go wherever he wanted to play, you just wanted him to be playing and be happy with his career. Whether that was in Italy or halfway across the globe. He kisses your knuckles as he realises how lucky he is to have you by his side and his number one fan.

[footballerimaginess]

can you tell me which one you would prefer - planning to post this on the 3rd. Not sure if it will be a blurb or a big fic yet 1) Do you write for ødegaard? If you do, could you write about him and the reader being best friends and he accidentally reveals his feelings? Maybe at a party or something. Thx ❤ 2) Can you write one for Ruben loftus cheek where he introduces you to his family and you all get on so well!! :)) thank you lovely 3) for blurb hour what about being early in your relationship with mason mount and starting to open up to him more ty :)~ 4) Could you write “don’t speak, just kiss me” with Pablo Gavi? He could’ve just scored a goal and your congratulating him or something

[emwritesfootball]

Family Day | Ruben Loftus-Cheek

Being at RLC’s place as him and his brothers/cousin play playstation, you helping his mum and sister cook only to later join and sit in between his arms as he plays, his family gushing over you two just something fluffy

Warnings: none

- - -

Spending time with Ruben’s family was one of your favourite things, and something you looked forward to whenever he told you he was going to visit his mum. It was a once-monthly occurrence, the whole family getting together for a family dinner that rivaled all your expectations.

Everyone was already there when you and Ruben arrived, the house noisy and filled with life. His brothers were running around the house when they weren’t fighting his cousin for control of the PlayStation, his mum occasionally shouting at them to be quieter.

“Oh, thank god you’re here!” His mum exclaimed when she saw the two of you. Ruben immediately hugged her and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Can you take those crazy boys out of my living room and into the back garden for some football or something?”

“Of course, mum,” Ruben replied, flashing her a smile before turning back around and shouting to his siblings and cousin to join him outside.

“Would you like some help in the kitchen?” You asked, smiling at his mum’s relieved sigh as she gave you a look and nodded.

The two of you caught up as you chopped the veg and she prepared the meat, talking and laughing over meal preparation. When his sister walked in and joined the two of you, it got even better, the laughter getting a little louder as she joined in.

You kept an eye on the back garden, watching proudly as Ruben played football with his younger brother and cousin, their giggles and screams emanating through to the kitchen.

Dinner was great, everyone enjoying each other’s company as you all caught each other up on life, Joe’s attention rapt as Ruben recounted the last few Chelsea matches and the training the last few weeks.

When dessert was finished everyone made their way into the living room to hang out and spend time together. Ruben persuaded you to play with him, which ended up just being you sitting in his lap as he held the PlayStation controller in his hands with his arms around you.

“The two of you are so cute!” His sister gushed, watching as you kissed Ruben’s cheeks comfortingly as he lost the latest round of Mario Kart to his cousin.

“Thanks,” you said, ducking your head to hide your embarrassment in Ruben’s neck.

“She’s the cute one - I’m just lucky I managed to get her to date me.”

“Oh, stop!” You chastised, swatting at his shoulder. “You’re cute sometimes.”

The comment made everyone break out in laughter and Ruben pulled you close. You spent the rest of the night snuggled into his side, enjoying his family’s company as you only got to see them once a month. When the two of you left, you all promised to see each other the following month, already looking forward to the next one.

[judebellswife]

i need some rlc imagines 🥹 can someone drop a link or an @ who write for him? thank you! 🥹🥹

[jadonsanhco]

daddy ruben blurbs (that man is fine)

first father’s day

talking to your bump

having twins

telling your son you’re pregnant

mummy’s boy and daddy’s girl

these are the ones i have so far! feel free to send more 🥰

[trentaafcsblog]

Midnight Memories

Mason Mount

This isn’t like him at all. Trapped in a crowd of drunk and disorderly people who are staggering around to the beat of the music, sloshing their drinks all over one another when the pink and purple strobe lights descend upon their bodies and start flashing in a series of random patterns, enhancing their alcohol-induced illusions and perceptions of the world as they flail their limbs around and claim they’re flying or walking on clouds - a stage that Mason isn’t willing to reach tonight, or any night, for that matter. 

A sea of girls in overly tight dresses and heels that barely support them crowding around him and slurring things in his ear. Running their fingers up his bare arms and begging for another drink as he awkwardly shakes his head and tries to break away from them, only for another person to grip onto him from the other side and smear their cheap sticky lipgloss all over his neck in an attempt to add ‘I kissed a footballer’ to their CV. “Just kiss meee” they whine, pouting in his face and trying to pull him closer before giving up and making a move on the next available man, one who’s willing to explore their mouths and buy them endless rounds of multicoloured shots for the rest of the night without gently shoving them away or not-so-subtly avoiding their alcohol-coated lips.

This isn’t your type of place either, although you’re five cocktails deep into the stack of pornstars that your friends insisted on ordering. A stain down the front of your white bodycon dress thanks to an escapee half a passion fruit that decided to leave your triangular glass in order to explore the vomit-tainted floor. Your lips all patchy now that your lipgloss has migrated to decorate the rim of your empty glasses with sparkly nude smudges, although you’re slightly relieved because it means that your hair won’t get coated in it anymore, and it minimises the evidence if you end up kissing someone too, not that you came here to do that, or risk putting yourself in the same category as the girls that are now trying to climb into the VIP section with a bunch of semi-famous people, all because they want a drunk kissing video to plaster across their social media, hoping that it takes them to the front of the papers in the morning for being such-and-such’s ‘mystery girl’.

You’re looking up at the VIP area cordoned off by security guards in black puffer jackets and walkie talkies in their hands, feeling an overwhelming sense of empathy for all of the people that have to tolerate that kind of behaviour. Your eyes start scanning across the section of the club that is far too expensive for just a few hours’ stay, wondering if you can recognise any famous faces, but it’s just the ‘I lasted one day in the Villa and still managed to secure a Pretty Little Thing brand deal’ Love Islanders and the friend of the friend of the friend of a semi-professional footballer that made one twelve minute appearance for Arsenal back in 2010 and thinks he’s God’s gift. All of them either eating each other’s faces or taking boomerangs of them cheers-ing their margaritas before having to retake the same video five times because they’ve lost several lime slices in the process and it’s ruining the aesthetic. Your focus sharpening on someone with their back to you and at least ten girls around them, taking it in turns to have a drunken selfie or begging him to buy them a bottle of champagne with one of those fancy sparkler things on the top that gets brought out by women wearing elaborate carnival-inspired feather headbands and very revealing dresses. And you can’t help but feel sorry for him because you can tell just from the back of his head that he’s incredibly uncomfortable, even more so when he gets offered a blowjob from a girl who’s now threatening to get her boobs out in exchange for a whole bottle of Don Julio, in a bucket of ice, just how she likes it.

He’s turning around to face the rest of the club just as you go to look away at the menu that’s being wafted under your nose by one of your friends, and you can’t help but do a double take at his familiarity. Squinting your eyes so that you can get a better look at his features. ‘Nice drink’ you think when your eyes catch the glass of Diet Coke in his hand, quite obviously not accompanied by a swig of vodka going by his incredibly tense frame and stiff dance moves. Well, it’s not really dancing, it’s more of a ‘I’ll just copy what my friends are doing so I don’t look awkward’ move, aka a two-step shuffle from one side to the other. You can’t help but giggle as you watch him from across the room, your friends completely giving up on trying to entice you with a selection of expensive cocktails as they leave you to stare at some random man on the other side of the club, their need for a second stack of bright coloured drinks clearly overriding the want to look out for their friend.

You’re watching him for a bit longer. Becoming completely fixated on this familiar stranger who you can’t help but sit and giggle at. Part of you wanting to cringe with him at how hellish this night has become, but at the same time, it’s kind of funny watching someone who should be so used to having a large following blush and laugh awkwardly if anyone happens to recognise him. Okay, maybe it’s slightly uncomfortable to sit and watch a swarm of girls attack him with their overdrawn lips whilst he does everything in his will to not shove them into next week, especially when his friends start laughing and taking little videos of the awkward encounters, clearly ready to embarrass him at a later date. But regardless, it’s nice to know that fame hasn’t gone completely to his head, unlike an ex-reality TV star who’s screaming ‘do you know who I am?’ at one of the bouncers who won’t let her hang out with her ‘friends’ in the VIP section.

But you’re quickly forced out of your trance when you feel somebody shoving something into your hand. Looking down at your palm and clocking the ten pound note before your eyes are lifting to the hand that it’s been given from. “Go and get us those cocktails” your friend slurs before slumping back in her seat and falling to one side slightly, her pink lipstick slathered all over her chin from where she’d tried to apply it without a mirror when a man wearing an extremely tight fitting top happened to settle down in the booth next to you, obviously hoping that he’d look her way. “Hurry up, I’m thirstyyy” your other friend whines, making you sigh and mutter something under your breath in reference to them being lazy and ruining your evening, as you slide out of the row of pink arched seats and stand up. Having to grip onto the back of the chairs when your legs go all warm and fuzzy from the one too many cocktails you’d already consumed, pulling your dress down to a more appropriate length before heading off in the direction of the bar. Trying to catch a glimpse of Mason as you swerve in and out of the sea of dancing bodies, but you just end up feeling as though you’re going to fall to the floor when the strobe lights start spinning on the ceiling before dispersing their blue and green beams around the room at the most ridiculous speed. Everybody around you swaying from side to side and elbowing you in the ribs as you try your best to dodge them, kicking yourself for wearing the most stupid pair of heels as your toes crush into each other more and more with each step, cursing when you skid in a puddle of what looks like - or at least you hope is - vodka, and you have to grab onto a stranger’s arm to steady yourself, much to their dismay until they catch a glimpse of your apologetic face and suddenly want to make out with you.

You’re breathing a sigh of relief when you finally make it to the bar, setting your bag down on the counter and ordering what you think your friends want, although you probably should have double-checked with them first considering you were too busy having a nosy at someone across the club to pay any sort of interest to their alcohol preferences. “What?” you’re shouting at the barman when he tells you the total of the drinks, hoping that you’ve misheard him but ten pounds clearly isn’t going to cover the cost of sixteen cosmopolitans with added shots of vodka. Panicking when he repeats the price and turns his back to get started on making them, your hands now frantically searching your bag in the hope that you manage to find the extra money before he starts yelling at you for ordering things without being able to pay. “Fuck” you’re hissing as you turn the contents of your bag out onto the countertop, checking the inside of your phone case and a pressed powder incase they happen to house the remaining money. Your heartbeat pounding louder in your ears the closer it gets to having to admit that you’ve actually only got a quarter of what you need. 

“I’ll get it” someone’s saying, clearly sensing the tension between you and the barman as you shrug your shoulders in response to him sticking his hand out for the money. “I’m not a charity” you snap back, your slightly tipsy state giving you a rush of confidence as you continue to search your bag in the hope that the money has magically appeared just so that you can laugh it off and shut everyone up. “I know, but it’s on me” they’re saying again, leaning forward and tapping their card on the machine before you can even consider fighting back a second time. “Thank-” you’re starting before realising who it is that’s just saved you from an incredibly awkward situation. Surely not. Surely Mason Mount hasn’t just bought you, of all people, a load of cocktails for your mates.

“It’s okay” he laughs nervously, making your heart melt because clearly he’s just as awkward around you as he is everybody else in this club. “Prices have gone up, haven’t they?” he smiles as he takes a step closer to you, propping himself up on the countertop with his elbows before asking the barman for a lemonade, with ice, just so it isn’t too fizzy. “Yeah, I don’t normally come out so I underestimated it a bit” you laugh shyly before looking off in the other direction, simultaneously cursing and thanking your friends for leading you to believe that you could get sixteen cocktails for a tenner, because without their stupidity, you wouldn’t be talking to the boy that you’ve been watching all night. “Prefer to stay at home then?” he asks as you turn back and nod your head. “Me too” he’s saying, “I’m normally in bed by now” he giggles as his gaze rises to the clock above the bar, the time reading 00.04am. The slight dark glow under his eyes letting you know that he’s normally tucked up by 9pm in his pyjamas. “What are you doing here then?” you ask. Stupid question really. He’s here for the same reason that you, and probably half of the people here, are - he’s been dragged along and forced to pretend that he’s a right party animal whilst he sips his non-alcoholic drinks and fights off every woman in sight. “My mates made me tag along, I’m kind of glad they did now though” he’s telling you, the second part of his sentence almost becoming inaudible as his voice quietens just as the volume of the music rises with the chorus of ‘My Yé Is Different’, ironic since you’ve just spotted the twenty grand watch decorating his wrist whilst you’re stood there in a passion fruit stained dress. But you’re still managing to hear it, and you can’t work out whether that’s in reference to you, or the fact that he’s been able to drink fizzy drinks when he’d normally only have water. Except you’re not stupid. 

“Bet you say that to everyone” you tease, gaining his attention again as he laughs nervously and shakes his head. “Only the special ones” he replies, which is true, but now you can’t help but wonder if his drinks have been accompanied by a few shots of something or another because those words and the sincerity of his tone aren’t a reflection of the awkward man you spotted ten minutes ago, let alone the fact that he clearly considers you to be one of these ‘special ones.’ “Yeah, yeah” you’re saying back, flicking your hair over your shoulder before taking a sip of one of the cocktails that are sat before you, still waiting to be taken back to your friends. “Got quite a few drinks for somebody that doesn’t go out much, no wonder you needed me to pay” he winks as you roll your eyes and blush at the thought of somebody having to give you a helping hand with the price. “This is my last one, I’m off in a minute cose I can’t keep up with everyone else” you’re shouting over the music, watching him throw his head back and laugh because he thought he was the only one in that position. “I’ll join you” he’s replying, thanking the barman for his drink before taking a sip through the straw. “Not the sort of thing you say to a girl after only knowing her two minutes, Mason” you’re teasing, studying his face as his eyes blow wide slightly and he shakes his head, quickly swallowing his lemonade before stuttering on his words. Unsure whether he’s panicking about you jokingly misinterpreting his comment, or if he’s uncomfortable over the fact that yet another girl knows his name, but either way, he’s laughing awkwardly when you tell him that you’re only messing. 

“I wouldn’t mind though” you say smugly, causing another nervous giggle to escape his lips. Your alcohol-induced confidence only adding to the butterflies that are already batting their wings against his rib cage, something about your slight feistiness and sarcastic sense of humour attracting him to you, even more so when he takes in how beautiful you still look despite being on the verge of your alcohol limit.

“Where are you going afterwards?” he’s asking once the lights have swivelled around in the opposite direction and the blush on his cheeks isn’t so evident. “I’ll just go to the chippy down the road and then get a taxi home” you’re telling him, looking down into the fluorescent pink concoction in your glass and feeling your stomach churn at how rough it’s going to make you feel in the morning. “Mind if I join you?” he’s asking as you look across at him in disbelief, watching as he downs the last few sips of his drink and stands the glass back on the countertop. Is this a dream or something? “Sorry, that was a bit forward...again” he panics, feeling a surge of anxiety run through his body incase he’s greeted with newspaper headlines in the morning about him unintentionally trying to latch onto girls that aren’t interested in him, even if half of the club know his name. 

“No, it’s fine, of course you can” you laugh, your cocktail glass almost slipping out of your grip thanks to the layer of sweat that is now developing across your palm. “I’ll just take these over to the girls and then I’ll be ready” you smile, looping the strap of your bag over your shoulder and grabbing as many glasses as you can, which really isn’t a wise move since you’ve partially lost all sense of coordination thanks to Mason’s ability to wipe any drop of confidence out of your body and replace it with nervous butterflies. 

“I’m off” you’re announcing once you’ve made your third trip back to the booth your friends are sitting in, their drunken reactions to your words making you giggle as you reach over them to grab your jacket. “Where are you goinggg?” one of them whines, gripping onto your leg and pouting before another one is drawn to the verge of tears at your confession. “I’m just tired” you nod, blowing them all a kiss and ensuring that they text you when you’re home as you turn around and head off towards the exit, not wanting to keep Mase waiting any longer. Praying that he’s stood just around the corner outside as he’d promised as you stagger across the dance floor and dodge a sea of flailing limbs and slurred shouts of ‘can I get your number?’. A sigh of relief forcing itself out of your nostrils when the ‘exit’ sign hanging above one of the fire doors becomes within touching distance and the bouncer in charge anticipates your departure, pushing down the grey bar across the middle of the door and letting it swing open, enabling you to step out into the night.

“There you are” you smile as you approach the back of his figure, his head kept down and a cap adding a nice accessory to his outfit, although it’s definitely worn as some form of disguise. “Hi” he’s smiling nervously when he realises that it’s you, a swarm of butterflies invading his tummy again when you link your arm through his and gently rest your head on the top of his shoulder - a move that you’re aware might push you into the same category as the other girls that have been after him all night, but your crippled feet and wobbly legs are grateful for the extra stability, even if your motivation to make that move takes you both by surprise. 

“Let me get this” you’re saying once you’ve made your way into the kebab shop, your arm dropping away from his as you gesture towards the table up against the front window. “You sure?” he’s asking, dipping his hand into his back pocket ready to pull his wallet out just incase, but you’re nodding and confirming that you’re more than capable of paying four-pound-fifty for a kebab and a couple of drinks - just as well really after the events earlier this evening. Giving him a small smile as he turns and heads off towards the table in the corner, his celebrity instincts kicking when he takes the seat right in front of the glass, conveniently covered by a sticker of the menu, and some extra protection offered from the back of his body. 

You’re setting the gold foam kebab box down on your table for two, along with two plastic forks, a bottle of water and a Fruit Shoot because you noticed him eyeing them up in the fridge when you came in. And it turned out to be one of the hardest decisions of your life trying to work out what flavour he wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol that was messing with your brain, making you think that he was more of an citrus guy than a berry one. Or maybe it was the fact that you were buying a child’s drink for a fully grown adult, a famous one too, who probably hasn’t had one for ten years, which only added to the pressure. Or maybe it was because you liked him and you didn’t want to ruin your chances by getting him the wrong flavour. But after flicking your gaze between the stack of bright coloured bottles and his body cowering away in the corner, you settled for the blackcurrant one, just because he looks like the type of person to play it safe - well, he is the type of person to play it safe, going by his Diet Coke and lemonade choices tonight. 

“This for me?” he’s asking as he picks the purple bottle up, smiling when you nod to confirm his answer. “How did you know this was my favourite flavour?” he’s questioning, a smug look appearing on your face as you shrug your shoulders and reply with ‘only the ‘special ones’ know that kind of information’. A giggle escaping his mouth at your words before he’s pulling the plastic lid off the drink and taking a sip, humming at the familiarity despite not having one since his seventh birthday party. “Still as good as they used to be” he’s saying, something about the additional happiness that’s now surging through his body after a drop of blackcurrant juice making your tummy fill with butterflies because he really is just the cutest, biggest child.

You’re both sitting in a comfortable silence as you pick at your shared kebab, trying to eat from separate ends so that you don’t cross any boundaries or run the risk trying to stab your forks into the same piece of chicken. But the fuzzy filter that the alcohol has brought to your eyes and the slight delay that it’s caused between your thoughts and your actions means that you find yourself diving into the last piece of pitta bread just at the same time that Mason does. And from his side it’s a poor judgement call. The sugar from his Fruit Shoot clearly giving him an extra boost of energy and causing his arm to extend outwards towards the polystyrene box, clouding his mum’s reminder that ‘you need be a gentleman and let girls eat whatever’s left, even if you want it’. And truth be told, he doesn’t really want it, which is why the pang of anxiety as soon as his plastic fork clashes with yours is stronger than ever. His cheeks turning a violent shade of crimson as he quickly pulls his fork back, leaving just four little holes from where the prongs had been as you panic and do the same.

“Sorry, no you have it” he says quietly, nudging the box towards you in the hope that you get the hint. “No, you eat it” you smile, pushing it back towards him. The two of you just repeating the same movement as the box moves two centimetres one way, and then two centimetres back the other. “Mason, just eat it!” you whine as he sits opposite you and shakes his head. “I said you could have it” he smiles nervously, subtly wiping the sweat off his palms and onto the material of his jeans when he realises that you’re staring straight into his eyes. “Why are you getting all nervous for? Just eat ittt” you groan, a giggle escaping his lips because there’s no way you’re backing down on this one. “Fine” he huffs, stabbing his fork back into the little holes that it made earlier before slowly moving it towards his mouth. Your eyebrows raising more and more as you watch it edge closer to his lips. And then he’s doing the unthinkable and quickly changing the direction of his fork so that it starts heading towards your mouth instead. Involuntarily parting your lips whilst you wait for what’s just happened to register, and the next thing you know, you’re swallowing the piece of pitta bread. 

“What a fuss about nothing” he hums as you roll your eyes at him. “You’re quite romantic, aren’t you?” you tease as his eyebrows furrow in the middle, waiting for you to clarify your comment. “Is that all of the alcohol that’s made you so desperate to share the last piece of food with me?” you question, another layer of blush painting itself across the tops of his cheeks. “Oh, sorry, you didn’t have anything to drink, did you? Lightweight” you smirk, making him roll his eyes this time. “I’m just being a gent, plus you’ve been drinking so you need something to sober you up, maybe it’ll stop you being so rude next time I offer to buy you a drink” he says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. A wave of composure washing over him now that he’s left you slightly speechless and he’s matched your sense of humour. “Next time? You’ll be lucky” you sass as he scoffs at you. “You’re the one that needs to buy me a drink to apologise for snapping at me, so there will be a next time to call it quits, thank you” he smiles, his sudden burst of confidence talking to you allowing his real personality to shine through, and you can’t help but start to get lost in it. “Was I really that rude?” you ask, secretly dying as you think back to your ‘I’m not a charity’ comment at the bar. “No, I’m just messing” he laughs, eliciting the same response from you as you erase that memory out of your brain. “You’re just confident, I like it” he’s saying, the last part of his comment getting lost when a group of people come staggering through the door, drowning out his words for the second time tonight, but you’re ninety-nine percent certain you managed to catch it. And now you’re the nervous one.

You’re quickly moving the conversation on to something else when you feel your chest starting to heat up with anxious prickles. Mason going all funny inside because it’s clear that he has the same effect on you as you do him, but he’s trying to push that to the back of his mind as he listens to you rambling on about your favourite breed of dogs, and how you had a fish finger sandwich for tea before you came out tonight, and how you actually know quite a lot about football but you’re reluctant to bring it up because you don’t want to embarrass him, although your drunken state causes you to let a few football facts slip out, all of them relating to Mase but you’re too caught up in your fuzzy alcoholic state to even recognise. But he does, obviously. Finding it sweet how you know exactly how many appearances he’s made for Chelsea, and what minute he came on in his debut against Manchester United, and what colour boots he wore against last season’s match against Newcastle. Just sitting back and letting you talk in between the occasional swig of water, hardly being able to get a word in edgeways because the alcohol is well and truly running through your veins now, making you come out with all kinds of mismatched comments and slurs. But he doesn’t mind, which takes him by surprise a bit, especially as he’s secretly scared of drunk people and he can count the amount of times he’s felt a bit tipsy on one hand, but there’s something different about you. Maybe it’s your sense of humour and how you’ve got him in stitches, or how your drunken state leads you to be more concerned about the welfare of a stray cat outside than it does anything else on the planet, or maybe it’s how deep beneath that strong outer shell you’re protecting yourself with that he knows you’ve got a heart of gold, an inside of ‘pure mush’ as his mum would say. 

“What time is it?” you slur after knocking back your last swig of water. “Nearly one o’clock” Mason’s replying, glancing at his overly-expensive watch as you sit there and wonder how he actually knows what hour of the day it is when all of the numbers have been replaced by diamonds. “Better head off” you mumble, staring blankly into the empty kebab box and trying to process what move you need to make next in order to get yourself back home in one piece. “I’ll order you a cab if you want, or I’ll walk you back, I don’t know how far away you live” he’s saying, forcing you out of your trace as you look up at his tired, bloodshot eyes. Knowing full well that as soon as you’re gone he’ll be running home to bed with a glass of water to tone down the bubbles in his tummy from his fizzy drinks, paranoid incase they give him a fizzy version of a hangover. “I live about half an hour away and I can tell you’re ready for bed so I’ll go with the cab” you smile, making him giggle nervously at the fact that his tiredness has been uncovered, although it’s not difficult to pick up on the fact that the only other time he stays up this late is on New Years Eve, and even then he normally sets an alarm for 11.57pm so that he can wake up from his nap in time.

You’re letting him help you put all of your belongings back into your handbag after you insisted on showing him your favourite lipgloss midway through your earlier conversation. Linking your arm through his and stepping out into the coldness of the night, a breeze nipping across your legs and causing you to let out a little squeal as you start pulling your dress down to try and hide your goosebumps. “Here” Mason’s saying, taking his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders. “Mase” you’re replying. Mase - he likes that, and he likes how naturally it’s left your mouth too. Trying to give it back to him but he’s adamant that you keep it. “Gives me another reason to see you in order to get it back” he winks, making you roll your eyes as you stand snuggled into his side on the edge of the pavement. 

“Did you want my number?” he’s asking, already taking his phone out of his pocket and holding it out in your direction before you even have chance to respond. “You’ve not really given me an option have you?” you laugh, making him giggle as he shuffles awkwardly from side to side, waiting for your digits to appear on the screen. “Only because I need to give your jacket back, there’s no other reason for this” you tell him, smiling as he nods his head but you both know that’s a little white lie. “There you go” you’re saying, passing his phone back to him as his eyes study the new contact in his hand. A new number written beneath Y/N. 

‘Shit’ he’s thinking. He didn’t even ask for your name before this. Awkward. 

“Pretty name” he smiles, trying to play it off cool, but you’re not drunk enough to not notice his mistake. “So pretty that you didn’t even know that’s what I was called until now” you reply, making him giggle and let out an awkward ‘oops’. “I’ll let you off this once” you’re saying as you look up at him stood beneath the lamppost that’s towering above the two of you. A golden glow adding a filter to his face and making him look even more gorgeous than he did when he was sipping his lemonade in the club and shoving lettuce and chicken into his mouth. And you’re desperate to just kiss him, especially since he’s got a bit of dried Fruit Shoot in the corner of his mouth and you know his lips will taste all sweet like they do in the movies. But considering he’s only just learnt your name you don’t think it’s the right time, and there’s also a bunch of Tottenham fans making their way up the street, not wanting to have to make him endure any teasing, especially when he’s already stayed up late in a part of town he wouldn’t usually be seen dead in to spend time with you. 

“Thanks for tonight” you whisper as you briefly rest your head on his shoulder, pulling it away when the taxi he’s ordered for you appears at the side of the curb. “My pleasure, thank you” he’s saying back, removing his protective hand from the small of your back and stepping forward to open the back door of the car for you. “Told you that you were a gent” you tease as he mumbles ‘shut up’ and pretends to shove you into the back seat with a giggle. “See you soon for that jacket, yeah?” he winks as you reply with ‘yeah yeah, whatever’, making him let out a little chuckle as he closes the door on you. Giving you an awkward little wave as you head off down the street, standing and waiting for your car to turn the corner before heading home himself. Leaving just a message of ‘thank you again, can’t wait to get my jacket back cose it’s freezing without it ;) x’ that’s just appeared on your screen connecting the two of you. And even if you have been slightly tipsy tonight and now can’t remember half of the things you spoke about, there genuinely doesn’t seem like a better person to sit in a kebab shop with in the early hours of the morning after stumbling across him by pure chance a club that neither of you particularly wanted to spend the night at. Thanking your lucky stars for allowing your paths to cross because you already know this is the start of something special. Very special.

[toomuchchelsea]

Hi, loves :)

After a much-needed break over the past year due to school, covid, work, etc. I'M BACK!

It's been a hell of a year (for all of us) and I logged back into this account a few weeks ago when I wanted to read some imagines and get back into the Tumblr football community. I can't believe I missed it so much and I think I'm ready to make a slow comeback. I'll try to post on a regular basis (no promises b/c school is kicking my ass) but please send in all your football blurb/imagine requests!

I missed you all so much, thank you for all the wonderful messages you sent looking out for me and sending me all your love :) I can't wait to chat to you all again and get back to writing about the sport we all love.

All my love x

[footballfanfictions]

12. "How do you like your breakfast" - Ruben Loftus-Cheek 

I couldn't remember much from the night before but my dry mouth and sore head told me that it had been a heavy one. As my eyes adjusted to the light streaming through the gap in the curtains I realised that the room I was in was not my own. If I had gone home with someone I prayed it wouldn't be awkward. 

Looking around at the bedroom I noticed that it was quite neat and the bed sheets I was laying in were clean and smelt of fabric conditioner. The bed had more than one pillow too. 

There was a kit bag slung over a chair. As I slipped out of the bed my curiosity took over. Before I began rummaging around for my underwear I took a peek inside the bag. It was full of sports clothes, socks and football boots. I didnt  need the football boots to tell me that the person I had slept with was athletic, the dull ache in my pelvis did that. 

I managed to find all of my clothes and dressed quickly. Who ever he was, he had left me alone and run off somewhere so I was in no hurry to stick around. I ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tame it as I tried to work out if I had enough money in my account for an uber. 

I closed the door to the bedroom behind me and made towards the front door of the flat but as I walked I heard a noise, and then he called out to me. "Hey, you're up. How do you like your breakfast?" 

Curiosity over took me again and I walked in the direction of the voice, straight into his kitchen. 

My mouth fell open the second that I saw him. "Ruben?" 

He grinned at me, piling fried foods onto a plate. 

"Oh no, we didn't, we didn't" I started to babble, my head spinning from the previous night's alcohol and the revelation that I had just slept with my brother's best friend. 

"You regret it?" He asked, his tone sounding a little disappointed. 

"Josh is going to kill us." I groaned. 

"You didn't say you regret it, phew." He said, beckoning me over to the kitchen island. 

I took a seat on one of the bar stools and put my head in my hands. 

"What do we tell him?" I asked. 

"Hate to break it to you but Josh was with the group last night. He saw us kiss and he saw us leave together. He was fine about it." Ruben said, having walked over to stand behind me. He put a plate of food down in front of me and kissed the side of my head. "We can always talk to him properly today, after I guess we have talked about what this is." 

I looked him dead in the eye and the crush that I had on him years ago that I thought I was over, came back with full force. 

[footballffbarbiex]

Winter: Sleigh Rides.

player: Ruben Dias / Ruben Loftus-Cheek (see below) words: 915 request: Ruben -  No pref   -   500 – 900 - You and Ruben have a child who is like toddler age and you surprise them with a sleigh ride with Santa and his reindeer, thank you ☺️ A/N: the "Ruben" in question wasn't specified, so it's open to whichever Ruben you wish it to be.

-

His tiny mitted hand is covered by Ruben’s as the two of them make their way ahead of you. Powdery snow crunches wonderfully satisfying with every step made and fresh snow falls faster than the previous can land and settle.

Your son takes double, almost triple, the amount of steps when his daddy takes only one but Ruben doesn’t seem to mind. Your little ones’ speech is a mixture of short words and babbling all strung together. The words that the little one knows may not necessarily fit together in the sentence, but he feels that he’s telling an amazing story and Ruben is all too happy to reply back, giving the little boy confidence to continue to speak.

Ruben knows that you have something planned, but not yet as to what; though you do have a sneaking suspicion he may have googled the location when your back was turned as he didn’t look overly surprised. The little one on the other hand has no idea what awaits him. It never made sense for you to take him to the shopping centre and sit upon Santa’s lap right there and then. Especially not when you’ve spent as long as the two of you have telling him that unless he was asleep, Santa wouldn’t come to visit. So it hardly made sense that you couldn’t be awake on Christmas Eve to see him but you had the option to meet him while picking out your daily essentials.

Your little one has been excited enough already thanks to the heavy snowfall the last few days to create a pristine blanket over the old slush and well trodden paths. He’d “helped” to decorate the main tree while Ruben had watched you stand painfully still, rooted to the spot with P.O.P.D  - perfect ornament placement disorder - taking over and rendering you somewhat useless. Ruben, not wanting to dampen his son’s spirits, had returned home before the little one was back from nursery with his very own small Christmas tree to decorate.

The morning was spent baking cookies and gingerbread while Christmas playlists rang out through the house. Ruben hadn’t been lucky enough so far to be home when it had snowed and so this morning, he seized the opportunity to make the most of it and the little one was more than happy to spend it with his daddy. But with the morning spent snuggled up inside where it was nice and warm, the evening has been spent very differently.

Snowballs had flown through the air, with both yours and Ruben’s purposely failing short of their target while your son’s “suspiciously” would always land perfectly or as close to either of you as possible.

You’re about to ask him what he thinks the three of you will be doing this evening when his squeal reaches your ears before you can ask. Both him and Ruben are a little ahead of you but it doesn’t stop him trying to run as fast as he can with Ruben barely breaking into a power walk and without even so much as a backwards glance to you as he goes.

A pen is carefully set up, holding no more than 5 real life reindeer that step towards the fencing hoping to be fed by the new visitors. A large red and gold sleigh twinkles welcomingly and at the back is the largest burlap sack you’ve ever seen with appropriate bulging to signify gifts in all sizes and shapes are packed within. “Santa” himself is pretending to give the sleigh a final buff or two to make the sides gleam and it’s as he finishes up that he pretends to have only just noticed your son and his daddy approaching.

Several horses which tower over Ruben stand proudly before the sleigh, waiting patiently to begin their journey. Their breath, much like the reindeers, comes out in long streams as they exhale and bounce their head as they get used to the reins.

“Well! Who do we have here then?” Santa asks, his face lighting up as you finally join the other two. Your little boy stands in awe, unable to believe what he’s viewing with his own eyes. Santa looks convincing. The man has grown his beard out and whether or not it’s dyed is to be determined. There’s no false beard and wig here and you suspect that the blush on his cheeks isn’t make up either, most likely from being out here in the cold. Ruben picks up the little one and introduces him to Santa, realising that he’s still too stunned to speak.

“Ah yes, I think I have your Christmas list here somewhere.”  Santa begins to pat at his chest, down his body and finally, they come to rest at his pockets. “You did send me a letter, didn’t you?” He double checks, knowing full well that he does in fact have a letter that you had sent to the “North Pole” after you’d booked this. But still, he looks fit to burst from excitement as Santa pulls out the very same letter on the very same paper that you know to have your handwriting and your son’s name on. “Now, I think it would be a good idea to take a ride on my sleigh and have a little chat about your present list. What do you think?”

And, like before, with no words or sounds to sound, a nod of his head is enough for Santa.

[macybeckham7]

you and rlc have a baby shower that his sister surprises you with

The three of you were having a day out, she wanted the two of you out the house as the rest of the family were getting the house ready. All your friends and family all hide in the garden as they get a text that you were pulling up. Vinni lets you go in first, the two of you were laughing amongst yourselves. You walk in and find everyone as they surprise you. Your eyes darts around, seeing the Baby Loftus Cheek in balloons, you hug your mum, all your good friends that you knew you were going to ask to be your baby's godparents. Everyone had either a pink or blue pin as they made their guess about it. 'Ready?' Ruben asks. You nod he holds your hand and walks over to the balloon that you were going to pop. '3,2,1' everyone calls and then pink confetti bursts, you burst into tears as Ruben holds you tightly and holds you bump that had your little princess.

[footballerimaginess]

Cute and cuddly tube ride with Ruben pls 🤗

Taking a date night to the centre of London was just what you and Ruben needed. The food, the restaurant, the company all of it was just perfect. You get onto the tube to head back home, it was so quiet and peaceful which as very unlike London night life. “Thank you for a lovely date” you whispered. “Aww babe, I’m very happy you enjoyed it” he gently kissed the top of your head as you snuggled together.

[emwritesfootball]

Can't Sleep | Ruben Loftus-Cheek

Not you nor Ruben being able to sleep so you both get out to sit in the backyard on one of the couches as you snuggle up to each other just chatting about life and having a peaceful moment. Him kissing your hand cheek head everything except your lips because you’re friends but you take the step and then apologize only for him to go all in for the next kiss. Something sweet yet passionate by the end basically.

Warnings: some innuendo, crossing lines with kisses x

- - -

“Can’t sleep either?” You ask shyly, clutching your mug of chamomile tea as the cool night air of London hit your skin and formed goosebumps.

“Yeah,” Ruben replied, his voice a hushed whisper. It was well past midnight and everyone else at his place was already asleep, only the two of you still up. “Do you have another one of those?” He asked, gesturing to the mug in your hands.

“Take this one.” You hand it to him, your fingers brushing against his as he accepts what you’re offering and you can’t help sucking in a breath at the intimate contact. Your hands shake a little as you pour yourself another cup, trying to tell your heart to calm down and that the two of you are just friends.

“You’re back,” Ruben says, giving you a small smile when you return with a new mug in your hands.

“Of course. I couldn’t leave you out here all alone. Besides, when have the two of us had a moment like this in a while? It’s been months and I miss my friend.” You sat down next to him, reaching over and grabbing one of the blankets he always kept on hand for you, curling your legs under you as you rest your elbow on the back of the outdoor couch.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

It isn’t long after that and you’re opening up to him, recounting the last few months of your life that Ruben has missed because of football and both of your busy schedules. You finish your tea and Ruben does the same, both of you snuggling closer together as the warmth of the tea starts to wear off. You can’t help but reach over and grab his hand, running your thumb over the back of his hand.

Ruben brings your hands to his mouth, pressing his lips against your hand. It’s an action he’s done many times before, but somehow tonight it feels different. He lets go of your hand, pulling away for a second before putting his arm around your shoulder and bringing you into him. Your eyes close briefly as you feel his lips against your temple, brushing over your forehead and your cheeks, everywhere but your lips. It’s been a long time since he’d done this with you and you now remembered how long it had taken your heart to recover from this edge-of-something-more touches that never culminated in anything more than reset boundaries and your own broken heart.

Without thinking, you lean over and take his chin in your hands, your lips meeting his in a soft kiss that crosses all the carefully-set boundaries the two of you have had for years. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer as you pull away, realizing what you’ve done after the moment’s worn off.

Ruben’s eyes search your face, his expression intense and unreadable. “Don’t be,” he murmurs, kissing you with a sense of assuredness that leaves you both wanting more. His hands reach for your waist and you shift so that you’re straddling him, your hands exploring his body as his do the same to you.

“What is this?” You ask in between kisses, resting your forehead against his.

“I don’t know, but I’ve wanted you for so long.”

His confession brings a smile to your face. “Me, too. Just promise me we’ll talk about it later - after you take me to bed.”

Ruben kisses you hard, standing up to let you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to bed to have his way with you.

[judebellswife]

( polaroid feed if i date ruben loftus-cheek )

[jadonsanhco]

Ruben falling in love with Muslim girl at work but neither have acknowleged feelings. Sees her at team player's house party and is startled on how beautiful she looks in her ivory headscarf. He attends party with his Instagram model GF but only eyes for her and she is a little jealous seeing them together and become a little overwhemled and leaves the party. He drives around looking for you to find you walking home and asks you to come into car even tho u heistate- confesses his love. Choose end

the longing looks neither of you knew you were receiving from the others, the secret feelings that were caught after working together for a while, all of it seemed so perfect but wrong at the same time, as well as scary as you both expected a rejection would you be honest about your feelings. you and ruben decided not to confess, always assuming that that was the best and safest option, until that one night.

that night you were both invited to a player’s house party, definitely dressed to impress, you wearing an ivory headscarf that complemented your skin and eye colour perfectly. the moment ruben laid eyes on you he was astonished, your beauty making him stare at you for longer than he intended. you kept making eye contact through the night, both admiring each other from a distant, quickly looking away if you caught the other person looking back, but you also noticed the gorgeous girl by ruben’s side. you hadn’t seen her before, and you weren’t sure if she was just a friend or perhaps more than that. either way, you felt jealousy that you didn’t understand, for why would you be jealous? 

you tried to have fun, but ruben wouldn’t leave your mind, and it was almost as if you could feel his eyes on your back, also not failing to notice that the girl by his side was getting a little annoyed that his attention wasn’t on her at all. overwhelmed by the feeling of jealousy in combination with the confusion from your crush on him, you left the party, going outside to get some fresh air and hopefully clear your mind.

“y/n?” a voice behind you said, making you jump from surprise before turning around, seeing ruben smile at you. “sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you. i saw you leave, are you okay?” you stayed quiet for a few seconds before nodding and mumbling a soft “i’m alright”. so much for trying not to think of ruben.

“i think you look really beautiful tonight,” he then complimented you, making your cheeks heat up as you stutter thank you, cursing yourself for looking so shy in front of him. “i uh, i’ve had my eyes on you for a while, not in a creepy way!” he quickly added as he started his confession. “just that, you’re really beautiful and sweet, and i think you’re cute, and i would love to go out with you some time,” at this point ruben was the one looking shy while you were in shock, not expecting him to say that at all.

“what about the girl inside?” you asked, not wanting to create problems or get between them in any way. “oh, she’s a friend. i didn’t want to come alone so i asked her, but really it’s nothing, we’re just friends.” you felt relief wash over you after hearing this, finally starting to feel normal again as your nerves faded.

“i would love to go out with you as well,” you then said, going back to the topic from before. “i’ll give you my number okay? so we can make plans,” you smiled at ruben and accepted his phone to add your number, still not quite believing that he’s interested in you, but it made the happiest feeling spread through your body, and you couldn’t wait to get to know him more.

“good night then,” he finally said, ready to let you go home now. “good night,” you whispered and leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek before turning around and getting to your car, leaving a smiling ruben behind.

[footballdaydream]

everyone, your girl has got a bit of baby fever right now so if you want, you can send some baby/kid requests in :)