Simon x Reader
Info: based on Night Changes by One Direction.
Warnings: none :)
Its safe to say that you were growing up, a bit too fast for your mother’s likings. Lately you have been going out to a lot of parties with your new friends. Although your group of friends had changes there was always one who would stick by your side no matter what. You had changed but he was still the dork that he has been for quite some times. Simon Minter, the boy who was and is your best friend and he has been since primary but you both have been falling apart.
One night he was round, helping you pick a dress for the club date your going on. Simon wasn’t happy because it was a Friday, the day the two of you were supposed to keep the tradition of sitting round each others house watching scary films or just any other poorly made comedy. Simon sighed loudly watching you throw dresses on the bed in front of him. “Just pick one and go” Simon groans finally had enough of the sparkled covered dresses.
He thought back to the time when you used to come outside wearing more boyish stuff than he used to do. When you used to beat him at football then rub it in his face. Now you won’t go near a football unless it’s tucked under a guys arm and the only thing you rub in his face are you newly manicured nails.
You hold up a red dress to your body then nodded happily going to change. Simon lied down and put his arm under his head as he stares at the celling thinking back to when you started changing.
He first noticed when he asked to go play football, you may have said yes but he wished you didn’t. You put no effort into the game and in the end just stood at the goal flirting with a bunch of guys that made their way over. He was left standing in the middle of football pitch like a loner which was exactly how he felt.
“Y/N are you done yet?” Simon says with a hint of annoyance, why does he keep coming to see you when he knows that your probably not going to wake just like you were 8 again, when you would walk outside wearing a Real Madrid kit with mud all up your arms and not care!
“How do I look?” You squeak as you turn around admiring yourself in the mirror.
“You mum won’t like it” he mumbles looking at you through the mirror.
“Why not?” You frown turning around.
“It will take away the only bit of innocence left in you” he says with a small smile.
“Simon, don’t be so moody?!” She pouts giggling after but he doesn’t laugh along like you’d expected instead he rolled his eyes.
“You’ve changed so much!” He states not meaning to say it out loud.
“Good change?” She smiles and sits next to him.
“Depends who you are. For that twat you are going to see, good change. For me, bad change” he says looking at you as your face crinkles up you try to work our what he means. “Explain” you mumble.
“Your a girl who wants no regrets and he likes that. He likes how you dumbed yourself down, how you will do anything to be popular. Your his new toy but you won’t believe me because ‘I’m not one of them’ and frankly I don’t want to because if what they’ve done to you, I don’t want to know what they could do to me.” He’s not looking at you anymore, scared of the shit storm that your probably going to dump on him.
“Simon, I’m sorry. I know I have changed but I am still trying to find myself!” You say, finally talking normally rather than the squeaky obnoxious classic white girl voice.
“But I’ve found you. I have never lost you!” He whispers lifting his head and looking into your eyes, a hope of glimmer in his eyes.
You look over all his features his beautiful blue eyes and the dimples that are constantly poking through his cheeks, you’ve fallen but you hadn’t known it yet but now you do, you changed because you saw how Simon looked at the popular girls, like they were goddess’s but you never saw the way he looked at you like you were his world.
“Does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?” He questions, looking past you and out the window. You smiled as his eyes drifted back to you.
“It only scares me.” You frown and he gives you a puzzled look. “Change happens all the time and I’m scared of loosing people..I’m scared of loosing you” you finish and look him in the eyes. He rests his forehead against yours and places his hand gently on your cheek.
“It will never change me and you” he whispers and slowly connects his lips with yours, fireworks were going off and the world vanished so it felt like it was only the two of you in the whole world.
Carefully he pulled away and smiled with cheeks as red as tomato’s. “How about we watch The Purge?” You say with a wide smile.
“Of course!” He shouts jumping back to end of the bed.
“Just let me get changed into my pyjamas” you say and come outside in your Real Madrid football shirt with a pair of grey joggers.
not sure how much i like this one. BUT there will be more parts added to the dating cristiano series, so i’ll make it up to u if u didn’t like this one that much lol. i have a couple more saved already 😎😋
PART II Dating Cristiano would include …
… Going on vacation. Cristiano doesn’t have a lot of free time due to his job, but he’s always — for as long as you’ve known him — made sure to go on at least one vacation with you and Junior every year. Usually he just rents a yacht because paparazzi can be quite bothersome and privacy is really important to Cristiano, especially since he doesn’t have much of it during the football season.
This year, you’re on a yacht by Ibiza’s seashore.
“You’re getting a sunburn.” It’s Cristiano’s deep voice that jolts you out of your train of thoughts. You’ve been lying on a sun lounger for quite a while now, letting your body soak up as much sunshine as possible. You’ve slipped in and out of sleep whereas Cristiano and Junior have spent most of the day so far in the water. You’d joined them at first but thanks to the lack of sleep last night, you’d decided to take a break and lie down for a bit.
You blink a few times as the sun is too bright to open your eyes right away. Once your eyes have adjusted to the light, you see Cristiano standing next to you, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He’s gotten incredibly tan already. Not much of a surprise there, really. “What?”
“You’re getting a sunburn,” he repeats while he leans down — that’s when you spot a bottle of sunscreen in one of his large hands. Grinning up at him, you reach for your water and take a sip.
“This is a very crude chat-up,” you drawl.
Cristiano shoots you a level look. “You should know that this is not how I chat women up. I think something like this would be bordering on sexual harassment.”
You laugh. “Smartypants.”
He smiles at you as he begins to run his hands all over your body in slow circles, rubbing the sunscreen into your skin.
“Smartypants with a good pair of hands,” you giggle. It’s a super bad joke, and Cristiano seems to agree, if the ironic look he shoots you is anything to go by. “Sorry. It’s true though.”
“I’m bored.” Again, it’s a Cristiano who jolts you out of your thoughts. This time, however, it’s the small one. Junior is standing a few feet away, arms crossed in front of his chest, and a pout adorning his sweet face.
Nodding, you sit up. “We brought water guns. Wanna see how fast your dad really is?”
… Going to matches.To be honest, you’ve never been a huge football fan. Yes, you had supported your national team whenever there was a big tournament like the World Cup or the EURO (you’d even bought a jersey with the name of your favorite player on it), but you’d never once thought you’d go to see a game in a stadium. And pay for it.
Now, going to matches has become common. You try to make it to the Bernabéu as often as possible — you still had your job, after all —, and sometimes you and Junior even flew out to see Cristiano play at away games.
You honestly can’t imagine life without football anymore and you love it, you really do, but at the same time, it kind of wears you out. It’s stressful and at times hard to watch if things don’t go Real Madrid’s way, or whenever Cristiano gets fouled. Which happens a lot and still, most of the fouls have become entangled into your mind forever. However, no foul will ever be quite as memorable as the one you witnessed in the EURO final 2016.
The way your heart had clenched and unclenched every second as you watched Cristiano fighting on the pitch, trying desperately to stay on and not give up. But he’s injured and everyone who has ever been injured knows that it’s impossible to continue if the pain is that bad. So you really weren’t surprised when he eventually did get taken out of the game. You’d expected him to cry, too, but when he did cry, you were, for some reason, still shocked. You couldn’t move. Not one bit. Junior had asked you several questions (”Is papa okay?”, “Will he come back on?”, “What if he can never play again?”) and you’d tried to calm him down but to be honest, you’d been just as anxious.
Needless to say, you remember laughing in relief when he did finally come back on, even if it was just to sit on the bench. And later, co-coach.
“Y/N?” Junior asks. You look down at him, where he’s standing next to you, a Ronaldo jersey clinging to his slim torso. He looks strikingly similar to his father, especially now that he’s in a Real Madrid kit as well.
“Yeah?” you respond as you lean down to be on eye level with him. It’s loud around you but that’s nothing new; it always is deafening in football stadiums, no matter if you’re on the stands or in one of the VIP lounges, where you usually are.
“Who do you think will win?” He’s got a bit of a mischievous glistening in his brown eyes, indicating that for him it’s plain sailing already.
You pretend to think about it, pursing your lips and furrowing your neatly plucked eyebrows in concentration. “Hmm. I mean, Sevilla are pretty strong but I think I’ll have to say Real will win. Good thing they have Ronaldo, huh?”
Junior chuckles. “Yes. Good thing they do.”
… Cooking. You’re not a bad cook, really. You know how to make pasta, you know how to make a mean burrito, and you know how to cook chicken soup in the way you know people need it when they’re sick. So, no, you’re not a bad cook.
Cristiano, however, thinks otherwise.
“This is awful,” he says as he glances into the pot that’s sitting on the stove, the boiling water in it bubbling quietly. There’s an unimpressed expression masking his attractive face, his straight nose crinkled in skepticism. “What are you trying to cook?”
“It’s a new recipe,” you retort. “Take pot luck.”
“’Luck’ we’ll need,” Cristiano jokingly whispers to Junior, who sits on one of the barstools at the kitchen island and giggles gleefully. It’s a sound that warms your heart. You remember freaking out on Cristiano when he told you he was going to be a father a few years ago. Now a life without Junior sounds incredibly dull. You love him as if he’s your own son which worries you sometimes; it’d make a breakup much worse.
Appalled by your thoughts, you shake your head. “Don’t listen to him, Junior. It’ll be fine.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of Cristiano grinning and shaking his head.
“You are so annoying,” you tell Cristiano, whose grin merely widens.
i was shopping at target today and when i was leaving i saw this little kid who was dressed in a full (socks and shorts and everything) iker casillas real madrid kit and that’s the story of how i scared off a lovely young family because i took one look at their kid and bursted into tears