We Dont Talk About This Pic Enough

We don’t talk about this pic enough

𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 / • 𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐦𝐚𝐫 𝐣𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ; 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘷𝘪 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘦𝘺𝘮𝘢𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳.

(𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙛𝙚𝙢!) /𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧.

𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘵𝘷, 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘥𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘷𝘪 & 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘭.

i hummed quietly as i slightly pulled up my olive colored stringed tube too, examining my now bigger backside through my matching colored leggings, with jewelry to top the outfit off, with a slick back ponytail.

i never felt more beautiful in the world. i mean, after dealing with postpartum depression when i had davi, took a toll on my mental and it effected mostly how i viewed myself, mostly how i looked.

but ney made sure i wasn’t going through it alone. even sitting out for the season for me, which he didn’t have to do, but it was along the lines of “i love you more than ever, why wouldn’t i?”.

best husband i could ever ask for right?

finishing putting on my last anklet, i grabbed me purse, before i opened our shared bedroom door, walking downstairs as i was met with neymar watching tv, just putting down davi for bed.

“tudo bem papi, estou saindo para hoje à noite!” i said, before i bent down to reach my shoes, before being met with my handsome husband, just blatantly staring, like analyzing what i was wearing. ["alright papi, im leaving for tonight!"]

“is it something wrong?” I asked before neymar stood up, walking over to me, his tall figure just standing over me. mnm.

“não... mas sua roupa, é problema meu. você não vai sair com essa roupa meu amor.” neymar shook his head, before slightly leaning against the wall before i kissed my teeth in a attempt to win him over. [“nope...but your outfit, is my problem. your not going out in that outfit my love.”]

“but babyyyyy! i thought this was ‘hubby approved?’” i whined, walking up to him, hoping that he would change his mind on the outfit. i like when he’s like that, possessive, but he wasn’t overly possessive. he just didn’t want anyone to see what was his.

“it is...but i know...you look this good? you might be hiding something under these leggings...your ass is moving way too much princess.” neymar smiled, wrapping his arms around me as he kissed my lips, before burying his face inside of my neck, making me break out in giggles.

“stop-neyyyy! why are you feeling in my pantsss?-” you kept squirming in his arms, before his hands successfully made it to the inside of your tights before he felt around your ass…

he stopped before he felt a thin string run across his hand, standing back, as he felt himmself run hard…just from rubbing against you, he knew you had on a thong, not let alone a g-string.

“princesa, puxe-os para baixo e deixe-me ver o que você está vestindo.” neymar demanded, his demeanor just turning me on in seconds…wet. [“princess, pull them down and let me see what you're wearin’”]

pouting and just irritated in general about the whole ordeal, i whined, him not budging at all. still.

cockblocker.

“what did i say?” his accent was present in his english.

“ugh…fine.” I rolled my eyes, pulling my pants before revealing a black thong, causing him to bite his lip…just examining me and my figure , how natural my curves were and how my body snapped back just easily after birthing davi.

“are you trying to tempt me? by sneaking out in a thong mu amour?” neymar teased slightly, giving me that gaze.

wetted my underwear that fast-

“no…it’s just panties. what’s the big deal?” i sassed, before neymar chuckled, pulling me back swiftly, before his hand was around my throat just like that.

“or should i fix that attitude of yours? you wouldn’t wanna wake up davi would you?” neymar challenged, as my lip was tucked in my bottom teeth, feeling my legs go weak just from him putting me in my place that fast.

before huffing “no papi.” i responded, before he let go, his hands running back down my ass, gripping it in his hands, just caressing it before his lips made it to my ear.

(i have a thing for tatted hands…)

“so be a good girl and change for me. and drop the attitude.” neymar spoke, his breath hitching in my ear as he moved closer, making me whimper, sprinkled with a moan in this midst.

“okay…” i smiled, trailing off before walking back to our shared room, changing my underwear.

a short few minutes later, i walked back downstairs, to be smart, i put on his favorite pink laced panties he bought me for valentines day, standing in front of him.

“better now?” i huffed before standing up. neymar felt a heartbeat down there…the throbbing sensation grew the more he stared…and in his favorite panties? i was bound to be fucked up…

“way much better. covers up nicely.” neymar sarcastically spoke, before you could pull up or grab your leggings from the floor, neymar pulled you by your panties, causing me to fall on him.

“neyyy! i have to go! im gonna be-ouuu shit.” you felt him slap your ass, before softly sucking on your sweet spot, as i caressed his head.

“shhh…eles podem esperar, deixe-me provar baby antes de você sair... foda-se.” neymar muttered across your skin, before slapping your ass again, causing euphoric thoughts to take over as he repeatedly attacked my spot, sucking on it. [“shh, they can wait, let me get a taste baby, before you leave...fuck.”]

i guess im never leaving the house anytime soon…without any more inspections. i don’t mind it tho.

first neymar fic bc im obsessed, give me suggestions!, lemme know how i did loves!

Cookies!

Pairing : dad!Jude Bellingham x reader

Them : Angst, I think.

Word count : 2k

Jude had a bad day and it seemed like a cookie wasn’t enough to cheer him up.

I haven’t written in soooo long. Apologize for any mistakes. Might delete this one. I don’t know. Sorry! Should start writing more. 😔

Jude and you were highschool sweethearts. Back when eveyone thought you guys wouldn’t make it because kids in love? Yeah, who would have thought you guys could pull through.

But you did.

There were ups and downs especially at the beginning of his career. Those multiple rumors and gossips came flooding all at once and you went from a normal girl to someone who was known to have a famous boyfriend. They ven called you “the girl who hit the jackpot”.

Some even called you lucky.

A few months after your marriage, Jude and you were blessed with a little girl named Aaralyn. Jude was a perfect father figure to her though to be honest, her arrival wasn’t really align with the immense growth of his career but he managed to balance it all out.

But there were still ups and downs.

The small little hand was flipping through pages of pages from your baking cookbooks whilst her other hand kept on tapping on her chin. Her soft little hums filled through the air.

“Have you make up your mind, honey?” You asked whilst rummaging through the cupboards to take out every baking tools needed.

Jude had been feeling under the weather these days. He tried to hide it from you as he always did but you always catch on it. You knew him very well.

And so did Aaralyn.

Apparently, your little girl was fully aware of it too. Aaralyn woke up this morning and came up with an idea to bake cookies for Jude because it was her favourite and based on her logic, whatever foods that made her happy, should made others happy just as much.

“Mommy, we… bake choco cookies!”

You let out a cackle. “You flipped through the whole book just to decide with a basic one?”

“It’s Alyn’s favourite!” Her small little hands started patting on her chest with a proud expression written all over the face.

“Of course, baby. Can you let mommy see the ingredients, please?” You were about to pull the book closer to your side but your duaghter was quicker.

She snatched the book back with her lips jutting out. “Alyn can read!”

“Okay, read it out loud while mommy gather all of the ingredients, yeah?”

“This one says..powder!” Her little finger pointed to the first ingredient on the list.

“What kind of powder?”

“Co— cocoa powder, mommy! This one..” The little finger then slid to the second ingredient.

••

Your little girl’s eyes widen when the sound of a car came from the garage. There was no other car that could have parked in the garage except for your husband’s.

“Daddy is here! Mommy, daddy’s here! We need to be faster!” She made a hop sound as her dangling little feet touched the ground and scrambled to get her princess plate from the cupboard.

“Use Alyn’s plate!” She lifted her pink coloured plate up high for you to place one of the baked goods.

The sound of the door slammed put your little conversation with Aaralyn to an end. There were no words exchanged as both of you stared at Jude. He threw his bag on the couch, the things inside hit with some of your daughter’s toys.

“Alyn, I told you to clean up your toys, didn’t I?” The tense in Jude’s voice was enough to make his mood known to the rest of the family members.

“Uh-oh, mommy wait!” Your daughter tiptoed to place her plate back on the kitchen counter before scrambling to the living room.

You were looking from afar as she straighten her arm to grab on her little toy whilst Jude was ignoring her existence, eyes solely on his phone.

“Daddy, can help me? Please?” Aaralyn mumbled a little as she patted on her dad’s laps.

“You should clean up your own mess. We talked about this yet you still refuse to learn.” He stood up, picked up the bag which he threw earlier and headed straight to the bedroom, leaving your little girl alone.

You saw she brought her little hands close to her chest, lips pouting as she stood there, completely baffled with what just happened.

“Baby, it’s alright. Mommy will help you.” You picked up your daughter’s toy box and brought it closer to the couch, Aaralyn then made a little noise as she jumped on the couch to gather all of the toys left.

“Daddy might be feeling a little sad today. I’m sorry about what happened, sweetheart.” You cupped on her chubby cheeks to give them a little kiss.

“It’s awright! Daddy will be happy after my cookie!” She squealed.

Your brows lifted, smile widen as she mentioned the main point of the day. “You are right! I forgot about the cookies. Should we bring it to daddy?”

“It’s okay! Alyn will do it.”

You trailed behind as she ran back to the kitchen, boths arms high up in the air to get her plate back.

“Be careful!” As soon as you handed her plate back, she already made her way to the room where Jude went.

“Alyn will come back after I make daddy happy!” Her voice sounded afar as she ran to the hallway.

Aaralyn’s pace stopped in a sudden as she nearly hit the closed door. There came a new problem as she couldn’t knock on the door whilst holding the plate.

“Uh-oh..” The soft little mumble slipped out from her mouth.

“Daddy? It’s me!” The back of her hand hesitantly knocked on the door as she took a step back, waiting for a response.

Jude heaved a sigh, arm propped up to cover his eyes. He wished a second for himself and he got was continous knocking sound greeting his ears.

“Daddy…?”

“Daddy!” She crouched down to carefully put the plate on the floor before bringing both of her fists thumping against the door.

“It’s me, Alyn!”

“What do you want from me?!” The inside of the door banged agaist the wall of the bedroom as Jude opened the door. There was nothing but tense in his voice.

Jude saw his little girl struggling to stand up straight with the plate of cookies right as he brought his gaze on her.

Startled by the sudden loud noise, some of the cookies in the plate fell onto the floor. Most of the perfect sized cookie now turned into little bits and pieces.

“Alyn just— just wanna give daddy a cookie…” Your little girl immediately cut the vexed gaze from Jude, her head hung low and she bit on the inside of her cheeks.

“You are making me suffocated. I need a fucking break and I can’t even do that in my house?!”

“Sorry daddy…” Her words turned into a mumble, lips started trembling.

Jude heaved a sigh when he spotted the cookie crumbles now all scattered on the floor. “Great, another mess. Clean it, Alyn. Now!”

Hearing the voice of your husband gradually got louder and louder, you immediately flipped the main valve. You barely had any time to wipe your hands as you scurried to the bedroom where you saw your little girl crouching on the floor, her little chubby hands quivered as she picked up the mess she did.

“Jude! What was that for?!” Fuming, you pushed him by his chest, tears welled up in your eyes.

“I just need a rest, Y/N,” He rolled his eyes with no hint of guilty.

“You could have just said so instead of cursing to my daughter. She did nothing wrong!”

“She should have just left me alone. No one gives a fuck about a fucking cookie right now! I couldn’t play for 2 months and you didn’t even ask me if I’m doing fine!” Jude responded back, not giving any sign to back down nor to tune down his voice.

“I know you aren’t doing fine. Alyn knows it as well. In fact, she knows it better than me. She planned all this. She planned a movie night, we waited for you to come home only to find out you spent a night at Vini’s without telling us beforehand. Alyn wanted to cook your favourite food. We did and you weren’t able to come home again. She then decided to bake her favourite cookies, thinking it could cheer you up only for you to shout at her face. Is it her fault that you have to rest for two months? That you had to lash it all out on her? Do it to me! Scream in my face, Jude! Do it.” Jude didn’t flinched when your fist repeatedly hit on his chest.

“This isn’t about you, Y/N.” He breathed out.

“So, is it about your daughter? Is that why you lashed out on her?”

Instead of saying anything else, he heaved a sigh and made his way to the bathroom.

You went back to where your little girl was sitting. The tears stain were immediately gone as you quickly wiped of your cheeks before crouching in front of her.

“Come, baby,”

Your little girl pulled her hand back from you and went back to picking up the crimbles. “Daddy— daddy asked Alyn to clean up this mess first or daddy will be mad again…”

Your heart broke when she kept her head low. Aaralyn always loved to make eye contacts, she had always been the mood maker in the house.

“Mommy will clean up the mess. Can you go back to your room, please, baby?”

“Daddy won’t be mad..?” She lifted her eyes and you were greeted a pair of puffy eyes, her cheeks were more round as she jushed her lips forward. She looked exactly like Jude and it broke the dam of your tears.

“Daddy won’t be mad at you anymore. Go back to your room? Mommy will see you once I clean this all up, alright?”

**

Jude clearly forgot what happened after. He was literally losing the grasp on time as soon as he woke up from his nap. The blanket was pushed aside as he grabbed on his phone. The brightness made him squint his eyes. The picture of you and your little girl greeted his sight.

3:02

Even in the dark, without him having to turn his head aside, he could still feel the bareness. He wasn’t sure what it was yet. Not until he tapped on the other side of the bed.

It was empty. Untouched even.

“Honey?”

His heartbeat gradually turned even faster as every call was left unanswered. You were a light sleeper. Even a slight noise could have woken you up. Soon as he left the master bedroom, his feet bought him to your little girl’s room. The light was left on but there wasn’t any sight of his baby girl too.

“Aaralyn. Honey?”

Jude went uneasy. His skin turned sticky as he broke intol cold sweats. Part of him wished all of this was just a dream. Before he reached the main door, he caught a glimpse of a pink coloured plate on the dining table with some sort of yellow coloured paper by its side along with a box of crayon pencils.

“Daddy’s

— Aarlyn ❤️”

••

You could have brush it off if it was only between you and him but not to your little girl. Aaralyn was clearly upset. Even when you packed her stuffs, she remained seated at the dining table, staring at her remaining cookie.

As you rearranged her folded clothes into the luggage, she came back into her room, looking determined as if she had to get something done. You let her be as she ran back outside as she took out her crayon set with a piece of paper from her notebook.

Unknown to you, she actually wanted to leavr a little message to her very first love.

“There! For daddy!” She mumbled, the crayon in her hand was slipped back into the rest of the set as she left the paper right beside her plate. Her little hand then rearrange the cookie right in the middle. Not before she took a small bite at the corner of it.

“Daddy will like it…” She murmured with a small smile on her face.

“Come, baby. We gotta go.” You called out to your little girl, voice half whispering not to wake Jude up. After all those things that he did, you dtill couldn’t believe he had the audacity to just call it a night.

“Okay, mommy!” Aaralyn hopped off the chair and ran to you as you crouched down to put on her shoes. As she remain still with her little leg on your lap, she sticked her index finger in her mouth, eyes locked at the dining table area.

“What are you looking at, sweetheart?”

“Alyn forgot to keep my crayon…” She answered.

“That’s alright. Just leave it be.” You picked up your luggage bag, your free hand locked on your little girl’s wrist.

“Mommy, where are we going? Aaralyn asked.

“Daddy needed some time alone so it’s just gonna be you and me.”

kylian relationship headcanon?

can i come over ? ────── just another episode of tenderness.

♡ ────── pairing : kylian mbappé x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. ♡ ────── wordcount : 667 ♡ ────── notes : posting this one as a good luck token for the france vs netherlands game!! ily kylian. i try to not just write the happy parts of the relationship but also the hurdles you two might face? i might do more of these since i've got some ideas still :^) (quick disclaimer: since these are headcanons of real people, i'd like to emphasize that if you do not agree with any of the things i write, please kindly click off the post). title is from cool dry place by katy kirby ♡ masterlist.

Kylian Mbappé. Every single person on the Earth knows his name. But you especially—how could you not? When he doesn’t have his eyes on a football game, or his legs on a football field, he has them on you.

Hand on your knee at every single group dinner, behind your neck at every hangout with friends; his skin is always in contact with yours at every single second.

Touchy does not even begin to describe him.

If it were up to him, he would drag you to the changing room and have you sit between his legs—but no, it is not up to him.

Well, mostly because he doesn’t want to be the one that brings the elephant into the room, but also it is so bad that other people are beginning to think of you as a nuisance.

“Mbappé can’t keep his hands off his partner,” a tabloid once wrote, and it only took a few quote retweets from some Parc des Princes employees, heavily agreeing, for it to go viral.

“Sorry,” you once said to a manager, then to a janitor, then to a teammate, Kylian trailing quietly behind you, arms around your waist.

And he gets sooo whiny if you push him away—what’s worse than losing a match? His dramatic ass would say that it’s having you steer away from his touches!

“Kylian,” you whine on the couch, pushing his face away as he tries to kiss you for the hundredth time that hour. “Please, I’m trying to watch a film here.”

“Mhm,” He pouts, arms around your back, hoping that you’d look at him. He looks at you, his chin on your chest before sighing. “You hate me right? Be honest.”

“Please,” you say again, eyes never leaving the television, “you can kiss me all you want the moment the movie ends.”

He tends to avoid. You’ve known him for so long, and you are at the point where you would almost forgive him for the amount of issues that have simmered too long in both of your discontent.

But you don’t do that. No. You see forever with this man, right? So you sit him down and talk.

You’ve got to admit that Kylian has gotten so, so much better in recent years.

He used to flee at every problem—it’s not that he has trouble expressing his emotions, it’s that he has trouble being vulnerable.

“You’re doing this again,” you roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. Kylian won’t look you in the eyes. “I’m sick of this.”

“Come on,” Kylian tries reaching a hand over the table to you—well, if he’s going to ignore you, you sure as hell are going to ignore him too. “Look at me, we don’t have to talk about this right now.”

“Right,” you huff out, letting out a sarcastic laugh, “so when are we going to talk about this.”

Kylian stays quiet.

Kylian likes luxurious things; and he likes you. The same thing, really, in his eyes. A priceless watch and your priceless kiss—this is the kind of luxury a man like him can only dream of.

He goes all the way for his show of love, of course! He customises everything he owns with your initials.

Once, he somehow left his passport in the airport, and what got people into talking was not his passport, but your initials embroidered on its leather cover.

The strap of his duffel bag is changed into a shade of your favourite colour, your initials and his sewn together under it—it does not stop there! A gold plated lapel pin with your name on it becomes a staple on every single suit he wears; socks with your initials when cuffed; matching bracelets he only takes off before practice and matches.

He makes sure the camera flashing on his face gets it: he’d pose in a certain angle, throw his scarf over his shoulders in a certain way.

Even when you’re not there, he still loves showing you off!

Who are you? - Jude Bellingham x reader

Summary: Reader is a sports journalist at TNT Sports for a few months. In a post match interview, another interviewer criticises reader and Jude springs to defend her. Inspired by that clip of Lando Norris 🤍

A/n: requests are open while I have the motivation + check out my masterlist

-

The match had just ended. Real Madrid and Manchester City both with one goal each, Madrid winning on penalties.

The atmosphere in the Etihad louder than normal, the city fans quieter than the away fans like they normally are in Premier League games.

The Madridistas sounded like they were having a party in their end, music playing, crowds screaming and chanting as the players were celebrating alongside them.

You were down pitch side having been moved their from the media box during the penalty shootout.

There were about ten journalists, including yourself, all with official lanyards, notebooks, your questions you’d prepared for every player as you still didn’t know who you were to interview.

You were overall in a good mood, but the nerves were eating at you. It was your first sports journalism job since you got the apprenticeship with TNT sports during the Champions League. You weren’t supposed to be the one interviewing, you were just supposed to shadow someone from the company but they were ill and no one else was available to do it. So to say the pressure is on, is no exaggeration.

These nerves only worsened when you realised the other nine journalists were male, old and all stood a few metres away in a little group.

You felt like you were back in school with all their little whispers and glances at you.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought about how pathetic they were as grown men leaving out a young woman.

If you weren’t in an apprenticeship and you weren’t professional, you would’ve said something, but you told yourself to bite your tongue.

You decided to take the time you had by yourself to read over your questions and review your notes on the match seeing if there’s anything you need to change.

After a few minutes and floods of city fans exiting the stadium, a member of the stadium team comes over to you.

“You’ll be interviewing Jude Bellingham first, but that’s the only interview we can give you today I’m afraid.” The older man says to you sweetly.

“Okay, no worries. How long?” You smile.

“The interview will be in a few minutes after they get the media set up ready and keep it between 2-3 minutes please” he says before walking away and going over to the group of the other journalists, all looking over at you.

You smile and wave at them sarcastically, in response to their hostile glances. You said you’d be profession, not that you wouldn’t be petty.

You head over the the edge of the pitch, set up with a board of all the sponsors logos and a huge camera a metre or two in front of it, there are wires all over the floor leading to a generator behind the barricades at the edge of the pitch.

“Y/n y/l/n?” The engineers ask your name.

“That’s me” you affirm while holding up your lanyard with proof.

“Here’s your microphone” the lady says while handing a mic to you with TNT sports on it.

“Thank you” you reply with a smile and take the microphone in your hand, placing everything but your questions for Jude on the floor by the media set up.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to interview Jude, you weren’t blind and from previous interviews you’d watched, he gives good answers.

You read over your questions one last time before you see a talk figure heading your way.

“Rolling in one minute” an engineer says as you meet Jude’s eye.

He grabs the other microphone from the engineer and takes his place between the camera and the sponsor board.

He looks at you, a hint of curiosity in his eye.

“I’ve not seen you before. I’m Jude” he says and holds his hand out for you to shake. You smile in return before reaching your hand out and making contact with his.

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze and your hands stay enclosed for a few seconds before you realise you still haven’t said your name.

“Oh, I’m y/n y/L/n. I’m on an apprenticeship currently, my first interview. It’s nice to meet you” you explain as he lets go of your hand, slightly laughing at you.

“Yeah, you too” he smiles.

“Well played today” you say, hating awkward silences.

“Thank you, it was a good game” he seems very attentive and engaged in whatever you had to say, something you hadn’t seen with other players and interviewers. It was nice to feel heard in an industry where women are often hushed.

“Okay, whenever your ready” the interviewer says, and in an instant, your nervous demeanour switched to one solely of professionalism, something Jude noticed and was largely intrigued by.

“Hi, Jude. So, you’ve had a bit of time to reflect on the match now. Hod do you feel about the team’s overall performance?” You ask him.

He nods during your question, absorbing every word you say.

“Yeah, I think the team put a good shift in overall. Manchester City is a difficult team to play against, you know when you think you’re through on goal you’ve got more defenders running at you. So in a goal scoring sense, we probably good have done better and not miss so many chances but defensively I think we were quite strong.” He says, it’s interesting how his maturer personality comes out during interviews as opposed to his boyish persona beforehand.

“Other than their goal, of course.” He slightly smiles, like feeling much better about it in hindsight than he did during the moment.

“Sure” you politely laugh at his joke, “as a result of that goal, obviously, it ended up going to penalties, how confident were you going into that?”

He purses his lips as he thinks about his answer, his eyes wondering around the crowd of Madridistas behind you.

“I had no doubt that we had some incredible penalty takers. Experienced ones as well with good heads on them so in terms of our capabilities, I was confident. On the other hand, we were against City, a team with various goal scorers and arguably one of the best keepers in the world at the moment so of course we couldn’t underestimate them.” He nods at you.

“Okay, thank you, Jude. One more question before I have to go, going into the Semi-final, you’re playing against Bayern Munich, a side which you’re largely familiar playing against of course. You’re main rivals last season at Dortmund. Is there anything you picked up on in your performance tonight that you know Bayern will capitalise on if repeated?” You ask, one thing you always pride yourself on is how in depth your research is before an interview, the person you’re shadowing has taken a few of your questions during your apprenticeship.

Jude seems impressed as the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly in a smile.

“You ask the best questions, they’re making me have to think” he says with a laugh.

Before you can thank him, a rough and deep voice startles you from behind, “no she doesn’t”

You turn your head to see one of the other journalists, your heart starts to beat quicker and the nerves kick back in. You start to think you need to defend yourself but you can’t find the words, shocked at how rude he was.

“Sorry, who are you?” Jude looks past you and says the man, his face scrunched up in anger, he can’t even fathom how someone could be so rude and have no shame about it.

You turn to Jude to look at him, his posture and body language changing to a defensive one. You silently thank him as the man retreats, his fave dropping as he senses no humour in Jude’s tone.

Jude glares at him for a little bit longer before turning back to you with concern in his eyes.

“Are you alright? I meant what I said” he tells you and you smile before nodding.

“Reckon I could get an answer to that question?” You ask, poking fun at the altercation.

“Yeah sure” he laughs with you.

“I think if we aren’t more clinical in front of goal then Bayern can obviously punish us with that now they have Harry Kane up front” he replies and you nod, agreeing with him.

“Perfect, thank you so much.” You say smiling at him before the camera is cut.

“Okay, this way please” the engineer says to you, ushering you away from the media spot.

You follow her, smiling one last time at Jude before heading towards the exit.

“Wait” you hear Jude call from behind you, you stop in your tracks and slowly turn around.

“Jude, you need to do another interview” the engineer calls to him as he jogs over to you.

“I don’t want to have one with him anyway” he replies back, referencing the man that insulted you.

You laugh at him as he finally reaches you.

“Can i have your instagram please?” He asks, he seems shy now and you have to bite your lip so as to not smile.

“Instagram?” You tease him.

“My mum doesn’t let me give people my number, only family and friends can have it” he says, his hand rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“My username is just my name” you say before you turn to walk away.

“Okay! Look out for my follow” he shouts as he runs back to the media set up.

The both of you are left with a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your stomach.

chicken shop date.

had to make this into a imagine.

summary: you get the chance to interview central cee on your show titled "chicken shop date" but he's obviously into you. sorry to ameila dimoldenburg lmao.

pairings: central cee x reader

genre: fluff / slightly suggestive

word count: 2k (unedited)

a/n: imagine that ameila dimoldenburg doesn't exist for the whole sake of the plot. i stole most of her iconic replies though. thank you and GIVE ME REQUESTS. <3

finally. you've got a special guest on for today that's been a fan of your show for a long time and well.. you. although, you haven't had the pleasure of meeting one another in reality, but luckily he agreed to have a chicken shop date with you.

central cee.

you both sit down behind a table in a small yet cosy morleys, the camera crew sets up and prepares for the show whilst a small yet not too large crowd accumulates outside the shop at sight of you two.

you greet central cee and he beams back at you as you both get comfortable and prepare for the small interview/date. "it's nice to have you on the show." you thank him.

"it's calm, i've always wanted to be here." he responds, insisting that it really isn't truly that big of a deal.

you won't lie to yourself, you've always found central cee to be attractive ever since he happened to become a uk rap sensation. i mean who hasn't. you're excited and feel as if it's a blessing to sit before him.

"i actually watch this show too, i saw your interview with burna boy." he admits, referencing the last interview i held about a month ago.

my mouth agapes as i feel honoured to the fact that he actually took the chance to watch my show, "really?" you ask him out of disbelief and he nods proudly.

you'd admit, you'd thought it would be awkward to hold an interview with central cee considering the fact that he hasn't been too shy about the fact that you're considered his celebrity crush but surprisingly, he's very comforting to be around and is down-to-earth.

"i mean obviously you watch my interviews." you joke referencing to his interest in you and he laughs, not denying it at all.

the interview begins.

"what would you say your type is." you ask him and he pauses for a moment thinking to himself before he breaks into a smile. you notice this and furrow your brows confused.

"i like.. i like-" he starts.

"why're you smiling?" you question him confused, although it's an obvious inside joke with the two of you and everyone else that his type is clearly you.

"i don't really know my type, it changes innit it changes by the season." he denies the obvious making me roll my eyes, he sees this and it only makes him laugh.

"well it's winter." you tell him.

"i want my girl to be able to teach me something." he says, before he glares directly at you. you don't let it faze you and you continue to play along with your passive aggressive humour.

"i know a lot, i could teach you something." you joke and he shrugs raising his brows impressed.

"i guess your my type then." he mumbles, his eyes glancing away towards his box of chips and chicken wings.

"what's your favourite tattoo you have?" you question him before eating on one of your chips, central cee listens carefully to you.

"i'm just one big tattoo and the moment, i don't really, i don't know- it's all just blended into one." he rambles as he thinks to himself looking over his clothed arms and chest.

you find him adorable especially his way of speaking, "i like them." you compliment him and something behind his eyes reads pleased.

"thanks."

it's obvious that he's clearly into you, everything from the way that he looks at you, the way he listens carefully whenever you speak and the way that he sits.

you try your best to not make the episode seem like to serious of a date, but with him sitting in front of you, it seems completely impossible.

"i'm not sure how i feel about face tattoos." you mutter, hinting to the small tattoos that decorate his face, he slightly frowns.

"really?"

"would you get another one?" you ask him curiously and he hums thinking to himself.

"maybe not after you said that." he utters jokingly sadly and you both share a short moment of laughter.

"i was joking."

"how long does it take for you to fall in love?"

your question clearly doesn't fall onto interested ears, as a matter of a fact central cee obviously doesn't favour the word love at all.

"i don't know if i've fallen in love before." he admits with a smile to hide how suddenly deep the conversation has gotten.

"you've never fallen in love?" you ask him genuinely surprised.

"no, no- i guess so. i have a weird outlook on love." he responds before pausing looking at you. you ask him to continue on. "i just think it's a delusion innit."

you raise your brows at his response finding it different from your views, "like what, it isn't real?"

"i've been thinking about it a lot recently.. because yeah it's on my mind anyway." he starts finding an interest in the unopened water bottle that lies on the table between you.

"feel like you just have to be a bit deluded."

"that don't mean it isn't real." your response has him in lost of words and he glances about the place before shrugging in response. "i think when you fall in love you'll know." your words make you both share a gaze for a moment before he breaks it, thinking to himself.

"i mean, what if your girl fucks around and it makes your belly hurt, i dunno if that's a good conation on love." he confesses and he notices how it makes you smile.

"maybe that's just what love means to you."

"you've got long hair?" you question him.

"my hair is long." he replies his face looking slightly miserable.

"would you ever take it out of the sock it's always in." you joke and he laughs before he hums thinking of his next words.

"i dunno, i feel like i'm going through a bit of an identity crisis at the moment." he admits, and you hum in reply.

"i like long hair." you smile and he sees so before grinning.

"guess, i'll keep it then." he glances away again.

he's just like a little school boy who's gotten the chance to speak with his crush for the first time. it's cute.

"do i look like i'm hot, like my face is hot." you question him using your hands to fan your face and he shakes his head.

"you're fine." he starts glancing over at your face, "i like it though, it's like natural blush."

"stop flirting with me."

"it's cute." he mumbles gazing at you.

"i'm really bad at flirting." he sighs to himself rubbing his head deep in thought, you furrow your brows in disbelief.

"what do you mean you're bad at flirting?"

"yeah, i'm just shit at flirting, i can't flirt man."

"so what, you don't get with a lot of girls all the time?" he hurries to deny and shake his head, but you only listen to him curiously.

"you're telling me you don't go out with anyone?" you raise his brow and he watches you do so, hurrying to think of his next words.

"no, maybe i do go out sometimes, it's not like i'll go out of my way to do so." he tells you and you hum. "i've just lived a long life." he mumbles making you laugh at how deep it sounds.

"would you go out with me?" your questions sparks his attention and he chuckles to himself at how straight forward it is.

"i'll see."

"this is like a genuine date to me." he says as he opens up with bottle of chilled water, "like i'm genuinely here it's a dinner.. date."

you smile at him as you recall the times he's wanted to go on a date with your for ages, "you've wanted to go on a date with me for ages." you tell him and he smiles.

"i did want to go on a date with you, before my carrer flourished then i got overwhelmed not looking for love it was like a full circle."

"now you're on a date with me." you say proudly and he nods.

"finally." he glares at you and something about it catches you aback, he's really trying to full on flirt with you.

"are you single?" he raises his brow at your question.

"i mean yeah, obviously." he begins laying back into his seat, "i mean otherwise, i wouldn't be here."

"i'm single too." you imply reaffirming him but he doesn't say anything beside humming taking your word.

"what's the quickest way to get to your heart." you ask him, the phrase makes him irk and he frowns.

"don't try to get to my heart." he tells you and you listen to him. "i just think, i don't like girls that like me." he mumbles

"i hate you."

he laughs at your playfulness, "turns me on, i love it."

"guess i'll hate you from now on." you mutter lowly, but he still hears it.

"what's the most romantic thing you've ever done?" you ask him, but learning so much about him you already expect a specific response from him.

"i'm hopeless, i dunno i'm transitioning, this is all hard for me." he rants and you exhale deeply.

"too bad, it's all hard for you."

"it's easier said than done."

"you have a nice smile." you compliment him and he smiles looking at you.

"you're really pretty you know." he responds making you feel your cheeks slightly warm up.

"and you don't know how to flirt?" you frown but he shrugs once again. how can he not understand that he's literally a walking flirt.

"guess you'll teach me then." he glances at you in a suggestive way and you grin as you recall telling him you'll teach him something.

"it was nice talking to you, i'll c you later." you joke and he laughs getting your play on words.

"love and leave me."

"what do you mean love and leave me?"

"like i'll love you and leave you."

"what about love and love me?"

he closes his box gazing at you. "sounds good."

"what's that song you have with pinkpantheress called?" you question him and he shuffles in his seat before responding.

"obsessed with you."

"yeah i know, tell me the song's name." he mentally groans at the word obsessed and you feel the urge to roll your eyes again.

"i don't think i'm the obsessed type." he complains.

"i feel like secretly you are." you tell him implying his obvious celebrity crush on you and he smiles understanding you.

"maybe i am, but i dunno yet."

"i feel like you're the type to catch feelings and get obsessed." he listens to you nodding his head passively aggressively.

"maybe i'm a simp you know." he utters and you both share a gaze with one another before laughing.

"can i get your number, or something?" he asks you taking out his phone from his pocket and passing it towards you.

you blink at his phone for a moment before looking up at him, only to see him watching you expectantly.

you take it from him without a word before typing in your number and adding your contact name followed by a sweet emoji before passing it back to him with a smile.

he glances down at the name and laughs upon noticing the emoji you put before testing it out and calling the number.

your phone buzzes from inside of your pocket and you show it him making him grin with a nod, "i'll call you later yeah, pick up." he tells you and suddenly the tension within the room has changed into hinting something sexual.

"course, i'll pick up." you reply.

"alright."