Saw You Were Taking Requests So Maybe Fluffy High School Sweethearts With Jude Bellingham? Happy Valentines

saw you were taking requests so maybe fluffy high school sweethearts with jude bellingham? happy valentines day btww 💝

this idea is so cute! happy valentines day to you too bb<3 I LITERALLY GRINDED?? GROUND?? IDK? SO HARD ON THIS SO HARD SO IT'D STILL BE CLOSE TO VALENTINES DAY WHEN I WROTE IT. i got VERY carried away with the plot tbh but i had a ton of fun writing it, this is prob my fav (and longest!) piece i've written so far.

me and you // j.b.

snapshots in time of your relationship with jude <3

word count: 3.8k

on repeat while writing: the glue song by beabadoobee, ofc

warnings: mild mild angst that is immediately followed by fluff, tooth rotting fluff story follows reader and jude at different points in their lives (ages 5-19)

You're listening to your teacher explain subtraction when suddenly, you feel a hand sharply yank one of the pigtails your mother had carefully and perfectly tied up. Furiously, you huff, turning around in your chair to face the assailant. "Ouch! That hurt," you whine.

Jude, the boy who seems hell-bent on terrorizing you, from pulling on your hair to throwing paper airplanes at you from across the colorful year 1 classroom, just looks back at you with a mischievous smile.  You stick your tongue out at him, hoping that the teacher doesn't notice, and turn back in your chair to pay attention to the lesson.

Another sharp yank, this time harder than the last. It hurts like hell, and you can't help the tears that form in your eyes, not daring to turn back in your seat lest he call you a crybaby. But, luckily, this time, the teacher has noticed. "Jude! Stop that,” she scolds, making him mumble an apology to you.

You try not to snicker at the fact that he finally got called out.

---------------------

There are only two lines left before you reach your high score - you and your classmate, Nicholas, have been battling it out for the title of the class' touch typing champion, and you're determined to beat him. There's no prize, since the competition is completely unofficial, but you'll take any opportunity to have bragging rights. A quick, millisecond-long glance at Nicholas' screen shows that he has four lines left to type. You smirk, knowing that you've got this in the bag, and whip your head back around to your computer.

SLAM!

The screen shuts, making an obnoxiously loud noise. You scramble to open it up again, but it's too late -- Nicholas raises both his arms up in triumph, cheering, while his friends gather around to congratulate him. You groan in frustration, knowing that the screen couldn't possibly have closed itself, and having a good idea about who the culprit might be.

"JUDE!" You don't care that you're practically screeching at this point, after all, the little idiot ruined your chances of winning. And he wasn't even friends with Nicholas! He was always doing stuff like this, and you can never seem to understand why he's always picking on you.

"What is it?" he says, feigning innocence. You're smarter than that, though, you know he's the only one that could've possibly done it as his desk hasn't moved from its spot behind yours since year 1.

You're almost about to explode in anger at his facial expression, head cocked to one side, eyebrows raised, a hint of a smile on his stupid little face. "You made me lose!"

"You can't prove it was me."

---------------------

Tears begin to fall from your eyes as you ponder the ways in which today could have gone absolutely, positively, completely differently.

When you first heard chatter from the girls in your year saying that Liam, the cutest and most popular boy in all of year 8, planned on asking you out - on Valentine's Day, mind you - you were ecstatic. All of the girls would have been, but you felt it especially, because you had never been asked out before. You'd spent more time than you liked to admit daydreaming about how he would do it - would he bring you flowers and your favorite candy? Would he do it alone, or in front of everyone else? Would he ask you to the movies, or to a restaurant? The possibilities were endless, and you and your friends had fun theorizing.

What none of you had expected was for him to approach you in the hallway after school and inform you that although he had originally planned to ask you out, he had changed his mind and was going to go out with Hannah instead.

It felt like a sucker punch to your gut, an awful betrayal, the worst humiliation anyone could ever experience. You know you’re going to be the laughingstock of school tomorrow, and you can practically see the pitiful glances from your friends right before your eyes. You slide against the wall so that you're sitting on the linoleum floors of the school, hugging your knees to your chest and trying to stifle your cries so that none of the remaining teachers or custodians can hear you.

"You wouldn't have gotten along with him anyway, you know," a voice interrupts your quiet sobs, making you snap your head up so that you can investigate its source, although you recognize the voice immediately. It's just that you can hardly believe where it's coming from.

Jude.

"How much did you see?" you mumble, too embarrassed at the fact that he's seeing you with your bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked face to come up with a clever retort.

"Most of it," Jude replies, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

You groan loudly, resisting the urge to start sobbing again under his watchful eye, even though at this point, you're trembling.

"He's way too dumb for you. You would've had to explain stuff to him all the time and everything, and that would've annoyed the hell out of you. Just sayin'." He shrugs, walking across the hall so that he can stand next to your spot on the floor.

He's right, you suppose, there wasn't really anything appealing about Liam besides the fact that he supposedly liked you and that he was physically good-looking. But you’d die before admitting that your archnemesis, the kid who seemed to take joy out of your annoyance, was right, "What do you care?" you retort, "Don't we kind of hate each other?"

He chuckles, a little shyly. "I don't hate you at all," he says. "It's just fun to pick on you sometimes because you're such a goody-goody and you get all annoyed.

"Oh. Well, thanks, I guess."

He pulls a tissue out of his pocket and hands it to you. "You're welcome."

Maybe he isn't all that bad.

---------------------

"How was your History exam?"

You've barely had a chance to fully exit the school building when Jude runs up to you to inquire about the test you'd been dreading for the past week - you'd forgone your plans to hang out with him over the weekend (something he was able to do increasingly less because of football training becoming more and more frequent) in favor of studying for it, and could hardly keep quiet about your nerves on your morning walk to school. You feel a rush of affection for him for caring.

You bury your face into his shoulder dramatically, letting out a few pained groans. “I definitely failed it. I couldn’t remember if the Cold War started in 1945 or 1947! How the hell are you supposed to pass a test about the Cold War when you can’t even remember the year it started?” you tell him, slowly taking a few steps forward to signal to him that you want to start your walk home. He understands and begins walking with you.

“I’m positive you did alright. You probably did really well on the short answer section - you’re all good at writing and everything,” he reassures, patting your shoulder. “At least you didn’t completely bomb your French oral exam, like I did.”

That makes you chuckle, “Yeah, I heard Tommy laughing about that in the hallway. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. My dad says I just have to do a better job of balancing football with my studies.”

You hum in response and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence, as the loud noises and chattering coming from the direction of the school grows further and further from earshot. Now, only the sound of the wind, coupled with noises coming from passersby as well as the occasional car on the road fill your ears.

Jude is the first to break the silence. “Hey, have you got plans this weekend?”

You smile at him. “I’m free. Did you want my help studying for French?”

He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck like he always does when he’s anxious about something. Before you can ask him what’s going on, he replies, “I actually had something else in mind…”

You raise an eyebrow at him, unsure about where he plans to take this. You’re not sure why, but your heart rate quickens its pace. “Oh yeah, like what?”

The poor guy is a bundle of nerves, and you notice how he’s stopped in his tracks before saying what he’d like to do with you this weekend. You follow suit, and are fairly certain  you have an idea of where this is going, and although you definitely can’t say you’re opposed, you want him to finish his sentence in case you’d completely misinterpreted the way he bites his lip, scratches the back of his neck, and stumbles over his words. 

“I was, um, wondering if you wanted to come see a movie with me on Saturday.”

Your hunch is correct — you’ve been to the cinema with him countless times yet he’s never asked you so formally before. Before you respond (and of course, you know you’re going to tell him yes) you take a moment to fully take him in. He’s shot up in height in the past year and now towers over many. His face is beginning to transition from cute and boyish to grown-up and handsome, and although you’ve always secretly held a liking to his pretty brown eyes, curly hair, and smile, he’s now becoming the object of several other girls in your class’ affections.

You almost want to laugh at how much things have changed. Three years ago, he was still the Jude that took any opportunity to annoy you, but when he’d comforted you after your first experience with rejection, one thing led to another and you’d been inseparable ever since, baffling teachers, friends, and family alike.

He interrupts your thoughts, “Uh, hello? I asked if-”

Now your cheeks heat up, realizing that you’ve been leaving him hanging for the past minute or so. “Yeah, sorry, I kinda got lost in my head for a second there. Just to clarify, you do mean like a date, right?”

His eyebrows shoot up in panic. “Uh, yes. It doesn’t have to be if you don’t want it to be, though.”

“Of course I want it to be, Jude,” you reassure him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I just didn’t want to be wrong.”

For the first time since you met him in the school’s courtyard, he breaks out into a grin. “Cool. So it’s a date, then.”

“So it is.”

You don’t stop smiling the whole way home, and for several hours after that.

---------------------

You’ve been poring over your math textbook for about three hours now, trying desperately to stuff the most possible information about derivatives and integrals into your head for Friday’s upcoming test. You’ve eliminated all possible distractions, recopied all of your notes from class, done some practice problems, and went over flashcards, but the information still can’t seem to stick in your head. You’ve been staring at the same page for so long that the words and diagrams are beginning to blur, and you consider shutting the book for tonight and continuing tomorrow. No, you think to yourself. Then I’ll have way too much to cover the night before the exam. Taking a deep breath, you recollect all of your strewn-about papers and pencils and organize them into one spot before getting up to get a glass of water from downstairs. 

But as you’re about to turn around and walk outside of your door, you hear a strange, quiet noise coming from outside.

Tap, tap, tap.

You don’t think much of it — probably just a woodpecker. You start towards your bedroom door, but the taps start again, sharper this time.

Again, you whip your head around to investigate the source of the noise, which just keeps repeating. It seems to be coming from near the window, so you peer into it, only to notice your favorite face grinning at you in a dopey fashion. You shake your head slightly, because you can’t believe that your boyfriend, in his pajamas, actually scaled the side of your house in the dark without a ladder, and is managing to hold his balance while perched on the hinge of your second-story window. Hurriedly, you slide it open, knowing that he won’t be able to hold on much longer (no matter how much he boasts about his incredible grip strength.) He climbs through it, making sure to take his shoes off as you reclose it, and opens his arms for a hug. You bury yourself right into them, never rejecting a hug from him, and wrap your own arms around his waist. 

“What are you doing here?” you mumble into his chest, still in disbelief that he’s here. “It’s 11:00 at night.”

He pulls back slightly so that he can look at you properly, brushing some of your hair out of your face. “You hadn’t responded to any of my texts for hours so I figured you were studying. And I thought I’d come over so I could help you.”

You have to stifle a laugh at that one - your boyfriend is a lovely, hilarious, polite, kind, and talented human being, but academics - particularly math - have never been his strongest suit. Further complicating matters is his blossoming football career at Birmingham City, which leaves him even less time to study for his own final exams, let alone help you with your own. The gesture is incredibly sweet, and it makes your heart flutter, but in terms of actually helping you with the content of your exam, Jude doesn’t have much to offer. “Jude, define ‘integral’ right now.”

He rolls his eyes, but the dopey grin is still on his face. He takes a seat in the rolling chair in front of your desk and grabs Buttons, the teddy bear he’d gotten you last Valentine’s Day, giving him a big hug. “Okay, fine. Is it wrong for a guy to come over because he misses his girlfriend?”

“No, and I missed you, too,” you whisper, grabbing his hand to lead him up off of the chair and onto your bed so that you can cuddle with him. The two of you shuffle around for a moment until you’re both up against the headboard, his arm around your waist and your face laid against his chest. You both let out a satisfied sigh, and sit in the comfortable silence for a moment while you draw circles on his chest, until you remind him, “My parents are going to kill me if they find out you’re here at 11:00 on a school night.”

He laughs. “My parents are going to kill me if they find out I’m here. They’d insisted on me going to bed earlier tonight so I had to pretend to go to bed and everything, and then wait for them to go to bed and fall asleep, and then find a way to leave out of the back door without waking them or Jobe up.”

A gasp escapes your lips. “You snuck out for little old me?” 

He gives you a kiss, making a loud “smooch” noise with your lips. “What can I say? I’m a really good boyfriend.”

You giggle. “I’m so glad that you’re here, seriously, you made my night. But now I don’t want to study anymore,” you confess. “And I really have to study.”

You move to get up out of bed, but he pulls you closer. “Baby, how long have you been studying?” he asks.

“Around 4 hours?”

“4 hours? Didn’t you get a 94 on your last test?”

 You nod.

“Wow, you’re so smart, baby,” he praises, “Seriously, you don’t need any more studying for tonight. What you need is rest. You can start back again tomorrow.”

You snuggle up even closer to him. “It is really comfortable laying here with you.”

He plants another kiss on your forehead. “Well, of course it is. Like I said, I’m a really good boyfriend.”

It barely takes 10 minutes for you to fall asleep in his arms. 

---------------------

There are only five minutes left. The game is tied 1-1, and the stakes are higher than ever – there are scouts here from several high-tier European football clubs, and they’re all here to watch one person: your very own boyfriend. The name Jude Bellingham has gained more and more recognition among football circles, as he’s begun to show his fantastic talent as the youngest player to ever play for Birmingham City’s senior team. 

You’re so proud of him, and it’s evident that you are, as you’re fully decked out - you’re got his last name and the number 22 emblazoned on the back of the dark blue jersey that you’re wearing, you’ve got blue and white face paint on, and you’re seated in the front row, next to his parents and brother. 

After an unsuccessful shot on goal from the other team, kicked out by their goalkeeper, Birmingham’s attack makes quick work of regaining possession and getting the ball down the field. Jude gets a pass from his teammate, and although his parents and brother are yelling at him to pass it to the striker, you keep quiet, wary about making him nervous or telling him to make a decision that ends up to be inappropriate for the situation. He doesn’t pass it, instead taking it up the field himself.

Sometimes Jude jokes that you’re a telepath. You’re not, but you can tell he plans to go for goal, and you watch anxiously, grabbing onto Jobe’s jacket in the midst of your nerves. “Is he trying to show off for the scouts or something?” he asks.

“I’m not sure, but it could either go fantastically or terribly,” you shout over the loud noises coming from the stadium. You sure hope it’s the former.

He’s managed to retain control of the ball thus far, and he’s in the box. You tighten your grip on Jobe’s shirt. Of course, you have complete faith in him, but you just hope that both he and the scouts can see what you see.

He shoots, and time stops while you pray for the best.

It’s in.

Immediately, you and Jude’s family all shoot up from your seats, cheering at the top of your lungs. He celebrates with his teammates, his eyes glowing with triumph, and yours with pride. You notice him looking for the four of you in the crowd, his eyes lighting up even more when he does, giving all of you a little wave. Next, he points at you and makes a heart with his hand.

Your heart rate quickens as you return his gesture, grinning.

---------------------

Given all of the circumstances, today should be a good, happy day - Dortmund just won, he scored an amazing goal, and he’s spent the evening celebrating with his teammates.

But it’s not. Something’s missing.

The win is less sweet when you aren’t around to congratulate him, and although you’d called him to do so, nothing compared to when you would practically leap into Jude’s arms, kissing all over his face and telling him how much you loved him, how proud you were of him. 

Adjusting to life in Germany had been fairly easy - he’d found quick friendships in many of his teammates, especially Erling and Gio, and he adored playing for Dortmund. The only hard part about it was that neither you nor his father or brother could be there with him. And although he’s eternally grateful for his mother’s love and support, it doesn’t feel quite like home without the rest of the people he loves. 

His heart aches whenever he thinks about you sitting alone at your desk, studying for your university courses and missing the way that he would bring you snacks, quiz you on the topics you needed the most help on, and be there for cuddles whenever you needed a break. He’s your rock and you’re his, and FaceTime just doesn’t cut it sometimes.

He decides to call it an early night, asking his mother to pick him up from the restaurant the team is celebrating at. This way, he’ll make it home early enough to be able to call you before you’re asleep - it’s cheesy, but he loves to fall asleep while the two of you are on FaceTime, as it’s the closest thing he can get to having you next to him. 

A smile stays plastered on his mother’s face the whole way home, and he can’t help but think that maybe his win doesn’t have everything to do with it. He doesn’t know why he thinks so — he’s just got a hunch that something’s up.

When he arrives, no fancy decorations have been laid out in his honor, and no meal has been prepared (he already ate at the restaurant), so he assumes his hunch is incorrect. He sighs, thanking his mother for driving him home with a kiss on the cheek and trudging up the stairs to his bedroom. 

The door is closed. “That’s weird,” he wonders aloud, “I could’ve sworn I left it open.”

He turns the knob and opens it with a click. The lights are off - he could’ve sworn he left them on. He flips on the light switch.

“Oh, hey, Jude,” you greet him, carefree, as if you just saw him yesterday. You’re laying on his bed, scrolling through your phone, and your bags are sitting on the floor next to his closet. 

He blinks for a moment to make sure that you’re really here and that he’s not dreaming. It turns out his hunch wasn’t so wrong after all. You’re here. Finally. In the flesh. He changes his mind - today is a fantastic day.

“Well, are you just going to keep standing there or say something?” you tease, sitting up against the headboards and opening your arms out for a hug.

“I just can’t believe you’re here,” he says breathlessly. “The whole day I was thinking about how much better it would’ve been if I’d gotten to hug you after the game.”

“Well, I’m here now, so come here.” He does as you say, climbing onto his bed and holding onto you tightly, like he never wants to let go of you again. He takes a deep breath — he can smell the fabric softener on your (his) hoodie, the coconut-scented shampoo in your hair, the strawberry chapstick on your lips. 

“How’d you get here so fast?” he asks into your shoulder before pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“This trip has been planned for weeks, actually. I was thinking about how much I missed you so I just decided to come and see you over a weekend. It took a lot of brainpower to not let it slip to you over the phone, especially today,” you respond. “I was at the airport when you called after the game, actually.”

He pulls away slightly so he can cradle your face in his hands. “You mean to tell me that when I was going on and on over the phone about how much I missed you, you were here?”

“What can I say? I’m a really good girlfriend.”

“Hey, that’s my line!” he laughs, finally pressing his lips to yours. What would he do without you?

Jack Daniels in Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Ghost of You // Routledge!Reader Series

the day john b disappeared in the ocean, you lost everything. you suffered without him, hovered a thin line with your life. when you find out he’s alive, your world comes to a crashing halt and it’s john b’s turn to realize that maybe it was him that lost you (routledge!reader series) (eventual jj maybank x reader)

ongoing

main nav

--

{panic} - ward comes to collect you, y/n routledge, aka the only way to keep his secret safe

{breakdown} - you're nothing short of exhausted but somehow jj's standing in front of you, john b's home, and that's enough to push you over the edge (the original one shot)

{let go} - jj and john b always swore to watch out for you but in a life or death situation, you're the one protecting john b no matter what happens

{freedom} - escaping ward cameron felt like an impossible task, especially when he had you right where he wanted you. that is, until wheezie cameron flips an uno reverse and holy shit, john b's coming home

{holding on} - relationships are being tested all around, limbrey's a witch, and an explosion has jj wondering if the routledge siblings will ever be the same again

{revelations} - obx's annual bonfire is here and for the pogues, that means throwing punches and shotgunning some beers. except, this time there's vicious arrows, sarah's back on the cut, and you're dragged back into your own personal hell

{high tides} - the hunt for the cross is still on when john b almost becomes gator food, jj has a tedtalk, and turns out, after saving pope from a wasp attack, kie's dad is gonna need a new truck and you really just want to take a break

{full pogue} - the cameron family can't seem to keep their hands off you, sending you and sarah on the battle to get off the coastal venture and reunite with your friends

{reunion} - after being rescued from your island paradise, you're unexpectedly ripped from the pogues and pushed straight into another fight for your life.

{home sweet home} - y/n's quick to remember why she didn't miss her dad, john b can't shoot whiskey, jj has a small family reunion, and the twinkie's back baby

{i fall apart} - jj gets to mack on his girl, sarah's got topper whipped, john b and his dad are MIA, and y/n's reminded just how reckless her boyfriend can be

--

short blurbs (not in a particular order)

john b's reaction when you're not home

reader's relationship with the pogues in season one

reader when john b was running from the cops

reader's experience at the cameron house

reader's reaction when john b agrees to ward's offer

reader's relationship with jj

reader's relationship with john b

john b's fight with rafe

take the pain away - mason mount

summary: Y/N gets hurt, and Mason is immediately at her side, doing anything he can to take the pain away

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 3.1k

warning/tags: hurt/comfort, mentions of an injury, sickeningly sweet, tooth-rotting fluff, established relationships, also I wrote this in an airport and it all feels like a fever dream, so tbh I have no idea what any of this says... enjoy!

requested: yes!!

notes: here is another request! so sorry it took so long to get out - nursing school has been kicking my butt these last couple of weeks. thank you so so much for requesting! (and I'm already working on your other one :) )

It was a beautiful day at Cobham as you stood pitch-side, a rare warm March day in London. Your camera was raised to your face as you watched the Chelsea boys practice through its lens, snapping a few photos. Due to the nicer weather, both the men’s team and the Academy players were outside training in the afternoon, and you had jumped at the opportunity to get a few photos that could be used later on Chelsea’s Instagram.

These were your favorite days, when you got to spend time around the teams, watching them interact and doing your best to capture the chemistry between them with your camera. It surely beat the alternative: spending the day indoors, in a corner office, your time consumed by editing photos and sending various emails.

Plus, you would never turn down getting to watch your athletic boyfriend work his magic.

You panned your camera to the left, catching a few of the boys standing in line to wait their turn for a shooting drill that Potter was having them run. Your lens found Mason standing in the back of the line, and your heart fluttered as he looked straight at you, pulling a silly face to try to make you laugh.

You dropped the camera from your face, giggling slightly as you pressed a couple buttons to look at the pictures you had taken. Maybe you would keep those for yourself.

You looked back up at him, shaking your head slightly at his antics. Mason, with a satisfied grin on his face at succeeding to make you laugh, turned back to the line of boys in front of him, bouncing on his toes to prepare to run the drill.

After a few more minutes, Potter divided the boys into three groups, running a new drill with only a couple of the groups at a time. This left one of the groups to take a short rest, and Ben and Kai approached you, after grabbing their water bottles, to greet you.

One of the things that you loved about both working for Chelsea and dating Mason was that you had developed a close friendship with many of the players, having been able to hang out with them outside of work more and more as time went on.

Ben greeted you with a short pat on the back, refraining from hugging you so he didn’t get his sweat on you (which you greatly appreciated). Kai placed his hand on top of your head, ruffling your hair as he laughed mischievously. You scowled at him playfully, attempting to fix your hair as they began asking how you had been recently. You quickly got lost in conversation with them, raising the camera to your face intermittently to get a few photos of the boys still on the pitch.

Behind you, the Academy boys were practicing, running a scrimmage before they concluded for the afternoon. With your back to the group, you hadn’t seen the Academy player dropping to the ground in a slide in order to keep the ball in-bounds. You hadn’t seen the way that he misjudged his speed, sliding far beyond the ball and the sideline of the pitch, right toward where you were standing.

Ben and Kai saw it, though, as if it was happening in slow motion, but still too quickly for them to do anything about it. The only warning you had was a split second where the their eyes both went wide, reaching their arms up to try to pull you out of harm’s way. They tried to shout a warning to you, but it was too late.

The young boy slid into your ankles and you heard a sickening crunch as he knocked you to the grass.

Mason’s head whipped around quickly as he heard you cry out, a chill rushing down his spine as he immediately recognized it as your voice. He saw you on the ground, along with the Academy player as Ben and Kai rushed to your side.

You were confused—disoriented to say the least. Your back had hit the ground abruptly, knocking the wind out of you and leaving you gasping for air. You saw the boy getting up to his knees next to you, rushing out some apology you couldn’t focus on. You saw Ben drop to his knees at your side, and it felt like your head was spinning. You tried desperately to regain your breath, draping your arms over your face as you lay on the ground.

It was then that the brief rush of adrenaline wore off, and the pain set in quickly. A shooting pain tore through your right ankle, causing you to cry out again. In the frenzy of the whole thing, you could hear people trying to speak to you, but they seemed distant, and you couldn’t make out anything that they were saying. You grit your teeth, hating that there were so many people here to see your vulnerable state.

A pair of hands on your sides grounded you back to reality, and you moved your arm, squinting against the sunlight to see that Mason was at your side, kneeling next to your face. His eyes were wide with concern, and his voice started to pierce through the ringing in your ears.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.”

You tried desperately to blink back the tears you could feel springing to your eyes. In most any circumstance you refused to let anyone see you cry, determined to maintain a tough exterior, but the throbbing in your ankle proved to be more than you could handle.

The Academy player that had tackled you was now on his feet, still desperately trying to apologize for his actions. Mason turned and shoved him away from you, shouting something about backing away from you. You saw Reece grab the boy by the shoulders and talking quietly to him, no doubt trying to defuse the situation while also reversing any damage done by Mason’s shouting. He was, after all, just a kid, and he hadn’t intended to hurt anyone.

“Mase, please.” You grabbed a fistful of his training shirt, bringing his attention away from the young player and back to you. He looked back at you, his eyes softening as he heard you whimpering in pain. He helped you sit up halfway, pulling you into his chest. You buried your face in his neck so that no one could see the tears that slid down your cheeks, still holding his shirt tightly in your fist.

Mason slowly stroked his fingers up and down your arm in an attempt to soothe you as Ben explained what had happened. Your leg was still throbbing, leaving you unable to focus on anything that was happening around you. Mason pressed a kiss to the top of your head, whispering soothing words in your ear. He desperately wanted to take the pain away from you, but he didn’t know how.

You felt Mason’s muscles tense up, as he suddenly felt that there were too many people crowding around you. “Everyone back up!” he shouted, startling you. “Back up! Give her some space!”

Several people took a couple steps back at his sudden outburst, but Kai rested a hand on Mason’s shoulder to calm him. “They’re the physios, mate. They’re trying to help.”

When Mason lifted his eyes, getting a better look at the two individuals who were now coming to your side, he realized that Kai was right, recognizing the physios from times that he had spent in recovery after being injured.

One of the physios, a middle-aged woman with a reassuring, gentle look in her eyes, told you she was going to take your shoe off and waited for your short nod before she began undoing the laces.

Mason’s heart clenched in his chest when you gazed up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He did his best to give you a comforting smile, despite the sickening feeling in his gut at seeing you in so much pain.

The physio did her best to removed your shoe without causing you any more pain, but the slight movement of your foot still caused you to whimper out in pain. You grasped Mason’s bicep, and he hissed slightly as your nails dug painfully into his arm, but he didn’t dare to let on that you had hurt him.

When your sock and shoe were both removed, Mason could see that your ankle had already become swollen, beginning to flush a deep shade of purple.

“We’ll need to bring her up to the facility and wrap this,” the physio spoke, more to Mason than to you. She placed a hand gently on your knee, trying to bring your attention to her. “Do you think you can try to walk on it? I don’t think it’s broken.”

You nodded, trying your best to be tough. You let go of Mason’s arms, and he untangled his arms from around you, moving to stand in front of where you were sitting. You took his hands, letting him pull you to your feet as you kept all of your weight on your left leg. The breeze chilled the thin layer of sweat that had formed on your neck.

Mason still held tightly to your arms, standing in front of you and intensely watching your eyes as you tried to settled your foot to the ground, putting some weight on it. Your face contorted in pain immediately as a shooting pain radiated from your ankle up your leg, and your knee gave out. Mason was quick to catch you before you fell. You shook your head vigorously, letting out a quite “I can’t”.

Mason swept you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style as he followed behind the physios and walking as gently as he could so he didn’t cause you any unnecessary pain. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you instinctively buried your face in his shoulder again, finding comfort there.

When you finally made it into the training facility, Mason followed the physios into the treatment room, setting you down on a cushioned table so they could wrap your foot. You noticed then that Ben had followed you all inside, carrying your shoe and camera, which had, remarkably, remained unharmed in the clash. You smiled at him in thanks, and he walked over to you on the side that Mason wasn’t standing to give you a short hug and a kiss on top of your head before he went back out to rejoin training.

The whole ordeal had drained you of any energy, and you let out a sigh as you dropped your head onto Mason’s shoulder. The pain had faded slightly, into a dull throbbing, and his fingers rubbing gentle circles into your back was helping to calm you.

“You doing okay?” he whispered, checking in. Your eyes slipped shut and you nodded into his neck, too tired to say anything in reply.

The physios looked over your ankle, deciding it wasn’t a break, but rather a very bad sprain. They gave you some pain medication, put your foot in a boot, and instructed you to take it easy for a couple of days before you returned to your normal routine.

Mason took you home, waiting hand and foot on you for the rest of the day. He even took the next day off of training to look after you, despite your insistence that he didn’t need to. Though the pain had been miserable, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy the extra attention that Mason gave you as a result of your injury. He was already a very touchy and affectionate person, but it had been dialed up to 10 ever since that day at Cobham.

That Friday, several days after your injury, Kai and Sophia were hosting a game night at their place. The boys didn’t have a game that weekend, and they wanted to use it as an opportunity to get together and just spend a chill night hanging out.

After reassuring Mason numerous times that you were still up for going, the two of you walked into the house, you wobbling slightly as you were still getting used to walking in the boot. The room erupted with noise as everyone shouted greetings as you entered. Several of the boys came over, patting you on the back or pulling you into a hug, saying how they had missed seeing you at Cobham since your injury. Your heart swelled with affection as you returned their hugs. Sophia came over, pulling you to the couch so that the two could catch up while the boys were talking to Mason.

The night went on, and you learned several new card games and board games. Being with everyone did wonders to lift your mood after a fairly dull week following your injury. Mason was still attentive, constantly touching you in some way at all times, whether than was an innocent hand on your thigh, or an arm wrapping securely around your shoulders and placing a kiss to your forehead every couple of minutes. But you could tell that he was glad to be out with his group of friends.

The rest of the group didn’t miss the extra protective air surrounding Mason as he kept an eye out for you the whole night. It was endearing to see how much he cared about you and the comfort that seemed to wash over him at being able to have you around with the rest of the team again. None of them had ever seen Mason be this way with any other girl—you all definitely had something special. But although they were happy for him, it didn’t stop the boys from poking fun at him periodically for it anyway.

The evening continued, and you began to grow more tired, but you refused to say anything to Mason because you truly didn’t want to leave.

Sophia brought out a new game as the time passed 11 pm, and the game night was showing no signs of slowing down. You opted to sit this game out, waving it off when Ben asked if you were alright.

Despite your best efforts to hide your exhaustion, Mason still noticed, ever the attentive boyfriend. He leaned back on the couch, wrapping his arm gently around your shoulders as Kai and Sophia set the game up on the table in front of you. You sighed in content, resting your head on his shoulder.

You closed your eyes as Mason pressed a kiss to your forehead and mumbled a short, “you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you nodded, turning so you could look him in the eye.

“Are you sure? Do you want to go home?” you could still see the concern in his eyes as he searched your face.

“No, no, I’m okay, really,” you smiling to try and reassure him. “I promise.”

Mason searched your face for a moment more, seeming to finally accept your answer as you laid your head back on his chest. He turned and continued talking with Ben, and as you looked back toward the table, Sophia held your gaze with a knowing look. She grinned at you, and you felt the blush rushing into your cheeks. You hid your face in Mason’s chest and suppressed a giggle.

Despite having been in a relationship with Mason for several months, he never ceased to make you giggly and giddy with his affectionate gestures. Sophia was always the first one to tease you about how flustered he made you.

The game night resumed as soon as everyone understood the rules, and you untucked yourself from Mason’s side so he could lean forward to play the game. You sat quietly, content to watch as everyone else played and joked with one another. But the longer you watched, the more your eyes began to droop. Like there was a magnet pulling you, you felt drawn toward Mason as you began to slump over from exhaustion, and you laid your head on his shoulder blade. Without turning from the game, he reached behind him, pulling your arms so that they were wrapped around his waist.

You held to him tightly, soothed by his breathing and the sound of his soft laughter every now and then. Mason kept one hand on your arms, where they met in his lap, stroking his thumb softly over the back of one of your hands.

After several minutes of silence from you, he grew suspicious of the fact that he hadn’t felt you move in a while – not even a slight shift.

“You doing okay back there, Y/N?” he asked softly.

He was met with no answer. He furrowed his brow, turning his head to look at you, but he couldn’t move far enough to see your face without shifting you.

“Y/N?” he repeated.

“I think she’s asleep, mate,” Ben commented, sitting on your other side, where he had a clear view of your face. Your cheek was slightly squished from where it was pressed against Mason’s shoulders, lips parted as the muscles in your face relaxed completely.

Mason couldn’t help the warmth that flooded his face as he unwrapped your arms from his waist, pulling your legs so that they draped across his lap and he could hold you in his arms. He kissed the top of your head as you stirred before settling into his side.

“You lovebirds can’t keep your hands off of each other, can you?” Kai teased, grinning at the smitten look on his friend’s face.

“Oh, give it a couple years,” Ben chuckled from the other side of the couch, jumping at the opportunity to get under Mason’s skin. “They’ll be sick of each other soon enough.”

Some of the guys laughed at his remark, knowing he didn’t mean it at all. Mason just kept looking down at you as you laid on his chest, a loving look in his eyes.

“Nah, a couple years from now, I’m gonna marry her,” he replied matter-of-factly, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. The rest of the group smiled, silently coming to the decision to let you all be and continue playing their game.

With your face tucked into Mason’s chest, he couldn’t see the smile that curled your lips as you heard his words just before you fell back to sleep.

just for us / erling haaland

request: omg! a sweet insta fic of erling soft launching his gf to the word and everyone being happy about it?

pairing: erling haaland x footballer!reader

face claim: julie blakstad for the city player pics

author's note: this is the first erling imagine i do hakdjsk kinda nervous. tell me if you like it!! 🤍

yourusername

Liked by mancity, erling.haaland and others.

yourusername a brace and 3 important points. let's go!! 💙💙

View all comments.

erling.haaland proud 💙👏🏻

Liked by yourusername.

mancity

Liked by yourusername, erling.haaland and others.

mancity we would like to know your stylist's name, erling.haaland! 😉

View all comments.

erling.haaland will remain a secret for now :)

Liked by mancity and yourusername.

errrling9 he's so cuteeee 😭

yourusername

Liked by erling.haaland, juliaanalvarez and others.

yourusername tired after training, needed another set of legs 🏋🏻‍♀️

View all comments.

erling.haaland i'm too good for you

yourusername maybe

haalandandyn announcement 📢 rn 📢

haalnd9 let them be !!! they'll tell us in their own time.

Liked by yourusername.

erling.haaland

Liked by yourusername, philfoden and others.

erling.haaland beach day :)

View all comments.

philfoden 👏🏻👏🏻

erling.haaland

Liked by yourusername, juliaanalvarez and others.

erling.haaland 🤵🏼‍♂️🤵🏼‍♂️

View all comments.

haalanderling THE SECOND SLIDE WTFFFF

yncityzen if it's not yourusername i'll be so sad

yourusername

Liked by erling.haaland, yourmother and others.

yourusername pretty in black

View all comments.

yncityzen IT'S HAPPENING AJDHEKHX

erling.haaland 💌

yourmother we miss you two!!!

Liked by yourusername.

yourusername

Liked by erling.haaland, philfoden and others.

yourusername pretty guy and pretty sunset.

View all comments.

erling.haaland 🤍

Liked by yourusername.

phil.foden 🤭

ERLING HAALAND

Who would win a dance off? Show us your best move!

Haaland and Mahrez interview each other! | e& Brings You Closer