#achraf hakimi

[sensemami]

#Sensemami #video #achraf hakimi #morrocan #morocco #marocco #afcon #2023 #2024 #africa cup #ivory coast #cote d’ivoire #ivoiriens #sebastien haller

[jadonsgf]

achraf hakimi & hakim ziyech after morocco v belgium | 27.11.22

#achraf hakimi #hakim ziyech #morocco nt #world cup #* #BOYFRIENDS

[darlingmbappe]

The Loneliest | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]

Summary: Your fiancé missing your birthday is the icing on the cake to a horrible couple of months. Now, you’re left to pick up your broken pieces, ending the chapter in your life that includes Kylian Mbappé.

Warnings: Complete angst all the way through, Kylian being a bad fiancé, fighting, breaking an engagement, lots of crying, cussing, this one’s kind of long so beware. Spoiler: no happy ending. Let me know if I missed anything. — English is not my first language —

Mornings used to be your favorite.

You’d wake up way too early to the sound of Kylian’s alarm for your liking, but it didn’t even matter. The hour or so you got to spend with your fiancé before he left were sacred, it was special. They were filled with easy conversation, tired hugs and sleepy kisses on the shoulder, the occasional quickie, or at least a cheeky squeeze of your ass. It felt like very moment spent together was precious. You felt loved by Kylian so much it made your stomach turn with butterflies just thinking about him.

Now, it felt like those domestic moments were a distant memory. Sure, all couples gradually get less and less lovey-dovey the longer they’re together, but the change was drastic. It was like you barley knew him anymore.

You’ve attempted to start conversations with Kylian about this. Multiple times, in fact. Immediately, he’d get defensive, ending in arguments that kept getting worse and worse. It’s difficult to have to tip toe around your feelings in order to avoid a fight. He stopped making you feel special.

This morning, you woke up knowing it will be a hard day; all alone in your shared king sized bed.

Today is your birthday, and you don’t think Kylian knows this. After many weeks of deep reflection and thought, you know that today might be the last day of your three and a half-year long relationship with Kylian Mbappé — a man who stole your heart and still has it. Once treasured, now barely beating. The diamond sitting on your left ring finger had started feeling like a foreign object, like something your body wanted to reject. It’s lost it’s comfort, now you seemed to lug around old memories you clung onto for dear life.

Kylian didn’t come home last night, though you saw on his private Snapchat story that he was safe, sound, and plastered out of his mind at some club with friends you didn’t even know. He couldn’t find it in him to text you back after 9 o’clock, when that morning he said he would be home no later than 8:30. He found a simple ‘going out, don’t wait up for me’ to be sufficient communication for the night.

You called Kylian, instead it went straight to voicemail. Your texts to him weren’t going through, either. He didn’t have training this morning because the coaches had a conference in London, so you knew he had to be home soon.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you made your way to the kitchen for a bowl of bland cereal and coffee for one.

“Happy birthday to me.” You mumbled, looking down at your sad birthday breakfast. Compared to the last few years where Kylian prepared you a delicious meal, hired a chef, or took you out to the fanciest café in Paris — this meal actually made you lose your appetite.

Across town, Kylian was waking up with a pounding sensation in his head and no recollection of the night before.

“What happened last night?” Kylian grumbled as he woke up to the bright sunlight streaming in from the open shutters. His neck had a kink in it from passing out on his friend Paolo’s Airbnb couch in the early hours of the morning, his voice sounded like he’d swallowed gravel. “Fuck.” He covered his face from the blinding rays and felt around for his phone.

He hasn’t gotten drunk that heavily in so long, but when two of his old friends came to Paris for a few weeks, he couldn’t resist giving into their pleads when they’d asked him to tag along for a fun night on the town.

“Bro, you were so drunk last night.” He heard his other friend Bernardo chuckle, his voice almost gone as well from the festivities of the previous night. Kylian sat up, seeing both men looking half dead and clinging onto coffee mugs like a child would cling onto its mothers leg.

The guys chuckled in the kitchen. He smelled eggs cooking but they just made him nauseous. “What time is it? Where’s my phone?”

“Oh…” Paolo snickered and pointed at the bowl full of rice in the center of his kitchen island. “Yeah, man… I don’t know if the rice did much for it. It’s fucked.”

Kylian shot up toward his cell, not even remembering putting it in the rice last night. He carefully picked it up, the entire screen was shattered.

“Putain…” He attempted to hold down the power button just in case, glancing over to the microwave to see the time. 12:36pm. “Merde!”

He had an important meeting with his PR team about potential sponsorships for next years season at 2 o’clock, and if he showed up sweating whiskey with an obvious hangover, the brand reps might think twice before giving him any deals.

He bid his old friends goodbye but not before promising to go out again soon. A short taxi ride later, he was able to make it back home just a little after 1 o’clock.

Kylian bursts through the front door, booking it toward the shower in your ensuite bathroom, running right past you on the bed without a glance or even a hello.

You’d been trying to decide all day if you were pissed at him or just super sad, but seeing him ignore you that way made you realize that it didn’t matter. He stopped making you happy, making you both pissed and sad — a dangerous combination.

You get up and follow him in there as he hopped around trying to take his skinny jeans off.

“I’m gonna be late.” He panted, sliding inside the shower.

You assumed if he knew he would’ve said something… happy birthday… I love you… I’m sorry…

Curious and resentful, you stand close to the shower door so he could hear you. “Where are you going? I thought we…” You blink tears back, sighing and trying to get control of your wavering voice, “… I thought we could do something tonight.”

This wasn’t even the plan, but you were trying to find anyway for him to redeem himself.

“No, (Y/N). I can’t today, okay?” He snapped. “I’m in a rush. Can you please just pick out a nice outfit for me, quickly.”

You shake your head in disbelief, wiping a stray tear that rolled down your face, sniffling once. Kylian hears this and pokes his head out. “Hey,” his barely softer, “Look, sorry but I’m in a huge rush. It’s been a shit morning.”

“Me too.” You mumble, disappointment laced in your words but Kylian didn’t seem to catch onto it.

“Also, my phone shattered at some point last night, so can you call Thérèse and have her drop me off a new one at the training center?”

You huffed, getting control of your emotions that were simmering into anger. One more chance, you thought as you were about to walk out of the bathroom, you turn. “Do you want to do something when you get home? Maybe even just dinner here, a movie?”

“Maybe.” He said back, turning off the shower. All you could do is roll your eyes and bite your tongue. You were trying to give him every opportunity to come back from this.

You didn’t want to end it, but you promised yourself that if he fucks up today, that was it. You can’t keep hoping he’ll become the person he was before. He won’t listen when you talk anymore or even meet you in the middle. You have too much respect for yourself to settle for someone who can’t appreciate you.

You dry laughed. “Maybe.” You mocked, another angry tear rolling down your face, storming back into the bedroom and getting under the covers, arms crossed.

You wanted to sob, but choked it down when Kylian stormed out of the bathroom, wet and holding his towel up around his waist. “Why are you so moody?” He didn’t even look at you, just shook his head and threw his hand down, exasperated when he realized you weren’t putting an outfit together for him. “I just asked you to help me out.” He tusks. “Are you just going to lay around all day, then?”

You knew this tone. The one where something else was bothering him except he expressed it by nitpicking at anything in front of him. Being with him for so long, you knew how to gently pry out the real reason why he was snappy. Right now, there was no way were you even attempting to help him out in any way.

“Looks like it, huh?” You gritted through your teeth. You could practically feel the eye roll he gave you even though neither of you would look at each other.

He muttered something you couldn’t hear as he walked into the closet, hurriedly throwing on some outfit. “I didn’t feel like fighting today, (Y/N).” He growled and threw on a white hat. “Today has been miserable so far.”

“Miserable for you?” You gaped, face getting angrily red.

“Oh, don’t start.” He spat, grabbing his keys and walking out of the room.

You jumped up and stomped out of the room behind him, seeing him almost at the bottom of the stairs. “Kylian.”

He groaned, continuing to run down the steps. “I don’t have time for a fucking fight right now!”

“Kylian!” You yelled from the railing just as he grabbed the door handle. With an exasperated turn around, he locked eyes with your teary ones. “When you get home… we need to talk.” You didn’t try and hide your sadness this time, knowing how the talk was going to end. The sentence squeaked out, like your forced it.

He paused, taking his hand off the door handle. “Fine.” He said this differently upon seeing your broken demeanor, shuffling in place. Kylian checked his watch, looking back up at you. You stared back, watching him hesitantly leave your shared home.

Kylian knew he’d been fucking up with you lately. Coming home late, forgetting to call or text back, paying less and less attention to you as the season progressed. He knew he was getting too comfortable and at some point stopped putting in any effort. The worst was that he’d been taking his frustrations out on you, shutting you out. He watched as you tried to smile through his snarky and quick comments, feeling bad immediately but he just didn’t know how to deal with that kind of guilty emotion.

Your engagement has been a long one. Nine months in and you guys hadn’t even set a date yet. Time kept slipping through the glass, he wondered when the last time you’d even brought up the wedding was — wondering when the last time he even thought about it directly after.

The whole way to work he watched out the window, lost in thought about how he needs to be better. So much so that his driver had to tell him that they’d arrived. He was actually early. With a big fake smile on his face, he did his best to set it all aside, turning on work-mode.

Meanwhile, you had a really nice cry. The kind where you just let it all out because you knew no one was around to hear or pity you. Once you pulled yourself together, you gathered your suitcases from the attic.

It was obvious you couldn’t take everything that was yours. You’d bought so many things for this place, for your shared home… so you focused on the things you were for sure taking with you. All your clothes, makeup, sentimental items, and the fruit bowl you found in a market in Spain were secured inside your bags. You stopped and cried so many times… over a pair of shoes that he bought for you or a picture that brought back sweet memories… all these momentos felt wasted.

Yesterday, you were certain that he would remember what today was. So certain that you convinced yourself you didn’t need to get a hotel. You wished you did, because doing it today felt so final, so depressing. And, upon looking at your empty side of the closet, vanity, side table, bathroom shelf… you had to pull yourself together and be strong. Remind yourself why you’ve resorted to this.

Back at the training grounds, Kylian snapped his last photo-op with the CEO of some athletic wear company, absolutely drained from having to pretend for hours. He had sent his assistant off for a new phone when he saw her, knowing you didn’t text her about him needing one.

He trudged over to Hakimi now that all of that was over, sitting down with a long huff, placing his head in his hands. He hadn’t talked to him all day, being occupied with offers and whatnot.

“Man, I’ve been texting you all day.” He patted his back once, turning to face him.

Kylian looked up at his friend, shaking his head. “It broke last night. Thérèse is out getting me a new one now.”

Hakimi sensed there was something bothering Kylian, but knew not to approach him too strongly. He nodded at his answer. “So, uh… I bet (Y/N)’s pissed, right?”

Kylian blew a raspberry. “Oh, yeah… so pissed…” He nodded with the most exhausted look on his face. “Wait, how’d you know that?”

“Well, I mean, Hiba would be pissed too.” Kylian raised an eyebrow, still confused on how he knew about your fight. “You know, if I had to work on her birthday like this.” He laughed at the thought. “I’d have a lot of groveling to do. Or, did you guys plan something on a different day?”

Kylian gazed up at Hakimi, eyes widening with the vague memory of todays date. “Wait.” He gulped, hands hovering over his head. “Is today the…” he flipped the calendar in his mind, praying that Achraf was mistaken about that. “Ah… merde! Putain! Shit!” Kylian smacked the table and bounced up out of the chair, heart beating a million miles a minute.

Hakimi stood too, watching Kylian pace with his hands cradling his head. ���No… Kylian, you didn’t…”

He nods, panic settling in hardcore. “I yelled at her today. I asked her why she was being moody. I didn’t come home last night— ah baise moi, mec. je suis un putain d'idiot!” He cursed himself. Ah fuck me, man. I’m a goddamn idiot!

Thérèse speed walked over to the man in crisis, holding a brand new phone. “All your data’s transferred and everything!” She cheered. Kylian probably didn’t even thank her, going directly to his messages with you to text you that he’s so sorry and coming home right now. When he clicked on your icon, he saw all of the messages you sent him last night

You: Ky will u please come home — 9:25 pm

You: I know ur friends are in town and all but I seriously need u with me tonight — 10:48 pm

You: hello?? — 11:51 pm

You: are u okay? Do u need a ride? — 1:35 am

You: I’m getting worried. please just reply. I need to know ur okay Kylian — 1:40 am

You: nice Snapchat story. Good to know ur fucking fine. — 2:46 am

He ran a hand over his face, beginning to sweat with guilt. His eyes lowered on the screen, the small grey message by the keyboard truly making his stomach knot up even more.

(Y/N) stopped sharing their location with you.

His heart fell in his chest, churning… he felt like he was going to puke. Suddenly all of the conversations you tried to start with him about his behavior over the last six months came flooding back. The same conversations he moaned and groaned though, always deflecting until it turned into a fight. God, how badly he had been treating you… like you were a menace in his life — when really, without you, he wouldn’t be able to go on the same.

He began trying to call you and gathered his things, but his calls simply rang until it went to voicemail. “I-I have to go.” He stammered, almost tripping over his feet. Hakimi watched, shocked at the state of his best friend, knowing how he could get sometimes.

Kylian jumped in the town car as fast as his world-renowned legs could get him there, giving the driver instructions to get him home, and quick. The whole way he cussed at slow drivers, construction workers, red lights. He checked his new phone for the time; 10:37 pm and still fifteen minutes away from home.

God, please let her still be home.

He won’t know what to do with himself if you just left.

‘We need to talk’ rung over and over again in his head like a jinx. The way your voice cracked, the tears he saw you hold back. She’s so strong, he thought.

I raised my voice at her. I forgot her birthday and then treated her like she was the problem.

He pinched his leg to distract himself from crying. He has to be level headed, calm, logical, loving, and very apologetic— everything he hasn’t been for the last months. He knows he doesn’t deserve you, but can’t imagine what his life, his future will look like if he lets you slip through his fingers.

No girl has ever made him feel like this. Everything he looked for in a woman you embodied tenfold and he fucked it up. He has to fix this.

Kylian didn’t even let the car come to a full stop when he arrived, tripping over his own feet, realizing he left his coat in the back seat but really not caring at all. He just has to know you’re there. He looked toward the driveway, seeing your car still parked in its usual spot.

Thank the lord.

Fumbling with the keys, his shaking hands clicked the door open, seeing only the living room lamp on.

“Bébé?” He called. He saw your figure looking at him from the couch. “Oh, (Y/N)…” he breathed, walking over to get closer. You stoop up, meeting him halfway. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He heaved, breathless from his pounding heart.

The dull yellow light illuminating the side of your face showed him how puffy and red your eyes were, how downturned your usual smile was. He saw what he’d done to you, all the months you’ve had to walk on eggshells, the conversations that he’s turned on you, how he forgot your special day.

You still didnt say anything, keeping your arms crossed, looking him in the eye — the while begging yourself internally not to cave. His sweet eyes knew how to reel you in. You weren’t going to cave. You couldn’t.

“I forgot your birthday…” He whispered sadly, guilt drenched his tone, sending a cold depressing shiver down your spine.

Your eyes brimmed with tears again, but you bit your cheek and shook them away, having to be strong for yourself. “So, you finally remembered.” You sniffled.

“I’m so sorry, bèbè. Time just…” he stopped himself from making anymore excuses, “I’m just a fucking idiot. And I’m going to make it up to you. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.” He stammered, voice shaking from nerves.

“But, it’s not just about the birthday, Kylian. It’s been… it’s..–”

“–I know, bébé. I’ve been horrible to you. Truly horrible. You never deserved any of that.” He cautiously lifted his hand to yours, grabbing your fingers. All the words he was going to say suddenly didn’t feel good enough. No I’m sorry is going to feel sufficient.

You looked at your tangled hands, he played with your fingers anxiously, trying to catch your gaze, but it now stayed glued to the floor.

You took a deep breath and looked up at him with teary eyes — that of a wounded puppy. It broke him. “We need to talk.” Your words were laced in false strength, false confidence.

You didn’t know what the hell you were going to do once you leave him. Flying blind isn’t something you did very often, but you knew it’s what had to be done.

“Yes.” He nodded eagerly, trying to guide your hand toward the couch to sit. “Let’s talk. We can talk this all out, right?”

His hopeful tone made your heart break even more. The guiltiness that radiated off of him made it harder to do what you had to… his face fell when you let your hand slip back into your folded arms, turning away from him, sniffling.

“Kylian, I can’t… I can’t sit down with you and hold your hand and let you apologize to me. It’s not how this is gonna go.” Wiping your cheeks roughly, you turned to see his dropped face. “This talk… it’s going to be really hard. For both of us.”

He approached you, putting his hands on your forearms. “You’re scaring me, bèbè.”

Your lip quivered, not knowing how to tell him. You couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Kylian. I love you.”

“I love you too. I love you so much, (Y/N). I know we can work through this. I know it.” He pleaded, moving his face around to try and get you to look at him.

“No, Kylian. I love you, but…” You finally looked up, noticing he’d started crying as well. Ouch. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

He didn’t know what he was expecting. Sure, he was scared and sorry about what he did but the possibility of breaking up seemed impossible. Not like he was immune to repercussions, but you two just made sense. He loves you impossibly too much, but he’s forgotten to show you.

Kylian stood in shock, he felt his heartbeat in his teeth, his throat dry. “Don’t say that.” He whimpered. “Please, don’t say that.”

His hands traveled up to hold your face and he bent down to your level, needing you to look at him, to see how regretful he was, how much harder he will work at this. He touched his forehead to yours, wrestling with the temptation of falling down from anguish.

You shook your head between his palms, letting the tears fall freely, a small sob escaping. He wiped away the tears with his thumbs, attempting to hold you closer, squeaking out the smallest words; “Bèbè.” “No, no.” “Please.” “I’m so sorry.”

You grabbed his wrists, using all your strength to pull them from your face. Immediately, you turned around and grabbed a duffel bag he hadn’t noticed was sitting on the armchair. Your feet took you toward the exit.

“No.” His voice broken, his own face scrunched up and soaked with tears. “No, where are you going?”

It took everything in you not to comfort him, run into his arms, tell him it will be okay.

You pushed your instincts down and turning and shrugged instead, now feet away from the man you love, closing in on the front door. “I’m…” You felt a choking sob threatening to spill out of your mouth and had to look away, silently crying out with your hand covering you mouth. With a deep breath, you continued. “I’m leaving.”

“Well, when will you be back?” In just a few strides, he was back in front of you. He couldn’t help but hold your face again, wiping more tears with a gentle but pleading touch.

You gripped his wrists again, only this time, you weren’t strong enough to pull them away, instead feeling his warm skin one more time.

With a small shake of the head, you responded. “I’m not coming back, Kylian.”

“But… but this is your home. It’s our home.”

“I’m sorry, Kylian.” You finally ripped his hands from your face once more and adjusted the heavy strap on your shoulder. Turning around, your feet drag you to the front door. You reach into your back pocket and take out the house key that’s not longer attatched to your usual tassel keychain and set it down on the table.

He stood there and watched, now feeling helpless in this heart wrenching situation. It doesn’t seem like this is real, he has to be having a nightmare, just watching you leave his life and there’s nothing he can do about it — but it doesn’t stop him from trying, begging. “Amour, no. I can fix this, please just give me a chance to make this right.” He was desperate, once again approaching you.

Kylian sniffled, watching your every reaction, hoping for a glint of anything that would allow him to make it up to you. You looked down at your hands, then your left ring finger… everything in your body was holding you back from taking it off, but you mustered up every ounce of self control.

Kylian looked away as you slid the engagement ring off, hearing the light clink of it being set next to the keys. With his hands at his sides, back slouching, he looked back at your face, nodding in defeat.

“I’m sorry.” You repeated in a squeaky whisper.

“Me too.” He nods, looking down at your empty hand. He couldn’t but reach out, trapping your fingers delicately with his fingers, stepping closer.

His arm snakes around your waist, holding you, shaking with his suppressed cries. You allowed yourself to hug him back, to close the chapter, to feel his warm embrace again before you never would again.

The hug lasted for a while, swaying back and forth and crying into each others shoulders. He smelled like he always did, and you noted how hard it would be if you came across his familiar scent again. He also was getting high on your fumes, indulging in the coconut scented shampoo he had become addicted to. The touch of your hands clasping at his back made him cry harder, squeezing you tighter and lovingly.

You pulled back once your cries calmed, sniffling. He stayed close, lifting his eyes to look into yours. Before he knew how to stop himself, he closed in the space, landing his salty lips on yours, closing his eyes. You kissed him back, hating how much you’d miss him. The way his fingers dug into your hips made you lightheaded.

It’s too hard to stop, but you had to. Pulling away, you turned around quickly and left, sobbing all the way to your packed up car.

Kylian was glued in place. His heart had been put through a blender, his head throbbed, his chest was cold without you with him. He saw the flash of your headlights backing out and leaving the property reflect inside the dark and empty home.

He’s miserable, hollow. He’s angry at himself, maybe at you, even if he knows this was his own doing… the whirling in his brain wasn’t anywhere near as loud as the silence after you left — a deafening silence that followed him up to us bedroom, one he now only shared with his thoughts.

It killed him when he saw there was no longer a charger plugged next to your side of the bed, that your slippers were gone from their usual spot by the corner. None of your favorite books were displayed on the shelves, your skincare products left just a ring of residue on the sink. Stepping into the closet, he noticed it still smelled like you, but everything was gone. Everything but the shirts of his that you had stolen through the years, now neatly folded on top of one of his dressers. He wished you had taken them to remember him. He wished he could turn back time and do everything right.

Above all the sadness and the gaping hole is his heart was determination. He fucked up but he wasn’t about to do it again. You would not be the one that got away. It may be the last thing he ever does, but he’ll make it all up to you. He was prepared to go to the furthest lengths to hold you again. But, for now, he needed to wallow in self pity, feel everything that he needs to feel.

Not even on the chilliest Parisian night had his bed felt as cold as it did that day.

A/N: Okay I feel like I kinda dragged that out but angst! I’m contemplating a part 2 but I also kinda like leaving it at this… would y’all want another part? Also, the title is inspired by the song The Loneliest by Måneskin, listen to it after reading. Their new album is so fucking amazing. — Requests for Kylian Mbappé are open! —

#kylian imagines #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe smut #kylian mbappé x reader #achraf hakimi #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappé imagine #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe blurb #kylian mbappe fic #Kylian mbappe break up #neymar #neymar imagines #neymar jr imagine

[leeenuu]

world cup 2022 + ao3 tags (3/?)

#world cup #world cup 2022 #qatar 2022 #footballedit #japan nt #hajime moriyasu #switzerland nt #xherdan shaqiri #remo freuler #uruguay nt #luis suarez #poland nt #wojciech szczesny #belgium nt #thomas meunier #morocco nt #achraf hakimi #gifs* #football* #wc* #ao3tags* #i think i've used that last tag before but ehhh cant be bothered to put smth else xdxd

[juergenklopp]

The MOROCCO NATIONAL FOOTBALL TEAM reach the quarterfinals of the FIFA World Cup 2022 after beating Spain 3–0 in the penalty shootout (0–0 AET), with an outstanding performance by goalkeeper Yassine ‘Bono’ Bounou, and a Panenka penalty by Achraf Hakimi. Morocco are the fourth African team to reach the quarterfinals of the World Cup after Cameroon in 1990, Senegal in 2002 and Ghana in 2010. | December 6, 2022

#Morocco MNT #Yassine Bounou #Achraf Hakimi #Hakim Ziyech #World Cup 2022 #FIFA World Cup 2022 #World Cup #footballedit #sportsedit #worldcupedit #userleenu #.gif #.original #football #MARESP #WAAAHHHOOOOOOOO

[jkkyks]

NOOOOOO THATS SO CUTE, I MISSED SERGIO SM🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#kylians birthday #facetime #happy 25th birthday amour #jkkyks #kylian mbappe #sergio ramos #mbappé #achraf hakimi #kyky #kyks #france #psg #mbappe icons #kylian mbappe lottin #kylian mbappe imagines #kyky de bondy #his birthday #mbappe #kylian

[amelmajrii]

achraf hakimi scores a panenka in the penalty shootout against spain to send morocco to the quarter finals of the 2022 world cup.

#achraf hakimi #morocco nt #world cup 22

[monsieurharlemboy]

Achraf Hakimi

#achraf hakimi #hermès

[jadonsgf]

hakimi & his mum 🫂

#achraf hakimi #morocco nt #world cup #* #😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 #so cute my heart will burst #allahumma barik

[darlingmbappe]

Revenge Gift | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

— Click here for part 2! —

Summary: When Kylian leaves you high and dry, you decide on a leaving him a little revenge gift.

Warnings: Making out, sexy pictures, teasing, cussing, English is not my first language

Kylian was so happy to see you when you came over today. His face lit up the second he saw you, pulling you in for a long and deep kiss. You both had the afternoon off — a rare occurrence for your never ending clashing schedules — and these past couple of weeks have been especially busy. Working on a project in its preproduction stage comes a lot of late nights and even later mornings. Kylian turns in early and is up at the ass crack of dawn.

Besides the cheeky texts you’ve been sending back and forth, you two hadn’t had a chance to be intimate in a while. Quality time has been at an all time low, probably three weeks had passed since you’ve touched each other in that way. So, imagine how eager you two were when you quickly made it up to his bedroom.

“I fucking miss you,” he breathes between kisses on your exposed neck. You hum in response, too lost in feeling his bare chest against your skin to properly tell him you fucking miss him too. “You drive me crazy when you send me those sexy pictures.” Your hips grind against him while you sat on his lap, earning huffs and low moans from your boyfriend.

He played with the straps of your bra before losing them, following with a trail of kisses on your shoulder.

You huff out a laugh. “How do you think I feel when you send me thirst traps from the locker room, huh?”

Any other time he would deny that they were thirst traps and that you were just thirsty for him, but he only has one thing in mind right now. He reaches behind your back and begins playing with the clasp of your bra, a part he (shamefully) always struggles with. “Why don’t they use Velcro for these things?” He grumbled.

You giggle at him, reaching back to do it yourself. He sits back on the bed and prepares himself to just watch you, his eyes dark with lust and need. Just before you were able to unhook it, his phone starts ringing.

“Shit, sorry.” He reached for it on the nightstand. “Thought I turned that off.” Kylian looks at the caller ID and winces, looking up at you with I’m sorry eyes.

You shrug and drop your arms from your back, disappointed but understanding. “Go ahead, take it.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats before sliding the answer button, immediately sounding annoyed with the caller. You crawl off his lap and make yourself comfortable on the open side of the bed, waiting for him to do something about the throbbing in your core. “What? Today?” He exclaims, jumping out of the bed and begins looking for his something to put on. “I thought it was next week, why didn’t you text me?” He pulls the phone down from his mouth and mouths another ‘I’m sorry’ before putting his clothes back on.

He ends the call with frustration, turning to you with the face of the guiltiest man alive. You roll your eyes and huff, but ultimately realize that this is something he has to do, or else he sure as hell wouldn’t be leaving you alone in his bed right before you were about to get naked. “Go.” You force a little grin out for both your sakes.

“You know I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to—”

“I know, Ky. It’s okay, go.” You’re used to forcing the good sport attitude. It was a package deal while dating someone like Kylian.

“Please be here when I come back.” He begs, putting a baseball cap on and a T-shirt.

You stand up, trudging over to him and wrapping a loose hug around his waist. “If you’re back before six…”

He hugs you back, kissing you sweetly. “I’ll try my best, amour.”

You kiss him quickly before shoving him toward the door, his gaze lingered on your bare body for a long second, tutting and cursing under his breath, then forcing himself out of the house.

Once he left, you put on some comfy clothes, made some tea, and began watching a movie in his living room. It wasn’t even two hours later when you phone binged — a message from Kylian.

Kyks <3: what’s the latest you can stay over?

You immediately respond back

You: No later than 6:15

You watched the three bubbles appear before his response.

Kyks <3: fuuuuuuuucccckkk :,(

You frown, realizing that your day with Kylian wasn’t happening.

Kyks <3: I’m sorry amour, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.

Kyks <3: I love you

You: I know you will

You: and I love you too

With a long huff, you stand up and decide to just grab your things and go to your place before you had to head out to work, maybe change into a less itchy bra.

As you walked around kylians room to double check that you grabbed everything, a small black and white object on his dresser caught your eye — his Polaroid camera.

Interesting.

He was obsessed with it for a couple weeks before completly forgetting about it, leaving it to collect dust in his room. Picking it up, you saw he had three photos left in it, and you had a plan brewing. A small form of payback, if you will.

Shuffling back out of your clothes, you propped yourself on his bed, the camera lying next to you. Kylian had yet to see this set in full, so you might as well let him know what he walked out on.

With a quick reposition, you laid down on his silk pillows, squeezed your boobs together to create more cleavage, putting your hand lazily near your mouth.

Snap!

Next, you sat up on your knees, opening your thighs slightly to give him a better view of the black lace that was sewn on mesh at the middle, angling the lens downward at your body.

Snap!

With only one more left in the roll, you decide to show him a little more skin. Taking off your bra, you toss it aside, covering your nipples with your arm. Once you figure out the pose, you snap the last picture.

You put the developing pictures next to each other and shuffle back into your sweatpants and tank top.

Damn, you thought when they were funny developed. You looked so hot. You displayed them nearly on top of his pillow. Now that your satisfied with your teasing revenge, you gather your things and head home.

Around 8:30, the writers room was very unproductive. Everyone had all hit a wall and was out of ideas for the time being. Bouncing off one another felt pointless and everyone was a little frustrated. Usually while at work, your phone was on focus mode so you didn’t get off track, but you had resorted to playing a racing game while hoping inspiration for the script would drop from the sky. Just when you were about to beat your high score, you got a buzz in your phone with a message from your boyfriend. Then another. And another…

Kyks <3: you cannot do this to me right now baby

Kyks <3: you’re evil

Kyks <3: fuuuuccckk bebe I need you to come over right now

Kyks <3: I’m serious. U fucking tease

You bit back a laugh, wishing you could see his reaction in person.

You: I take it you like the pictures?

Kyks <3: I will pay you double whatever you make today if you leave work right now

This time you giggle out loud, catching the attention of your co-writers.

“Sorry,” you said through blushing cheeks. As you were about to put your phone down, you got another buzz. Though you thought about ignoring it, you decided to take a quick peek.

Holy shit.

Your extremely sexy boyfriend had taken a photo for you and you had to physically stop yourself from drooling, your face flushing with color as you took in the picture on your screen. The phone was now held close to your chest just in case anyone was peaking over your shoulder and saw the filthy shot.

His abs we’re on full display — he snapped the shot from his perspective as he laid down in his bed, a white towel hung low on his hips. Your Polaroids were splayed out across his covered leg and his hand covered his groin, large fingers wrapped around his covered member, showing off his perfect outline.

Kyks <3: I’m I gonna have to take care of myself? :(

Without thinking, you wrote back.

You: don’t you dare.

“You guys don’t need me tonight, right?” Your voice cracked. None of your coworkers said anything, just looked at you with a face that screamed ‘seriously?’ “Pleeease, you guys? I swear I’ll come in on Monday with donuts from Azúcar.”

That promise was enough for them to be okay with you leaving early. You texted Kylian back as soon as you gathered your things.

You: be there in 20

He took no time replying.

Kyks <3: counting down the seconds

—Requests are open for Kylian Mbappé!—

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappé imagine #mbappe #psg #kylian imagines #kylian x reader #kylian mbappé x reader #Kylian mbappe x fem!reader #kylian mbappe smut #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe angst #achraf hakimi #neymar #achraf x reader #neymajr #jude bellingham #soccer

[itsasainz]

Good Days | Kylian Mbappé x Reader

Summary: You and Kylian have been in a relationship for years now, and it’s nothing if not comfortable -- but there’s nothing like a pregnancy to switch things up.

Word Count: approx. 5.7k

Warnings/tags: pregnancy, toxic/unsupportive family dynamics, baby fever (I guess?), fluff, lots of fluff

A/N: this has been sat waiting to be edited for like 2 weeks lmao but I've been rly busy w exams -- ill probably start posting more writing next week when they’re done. in the mean time, if ur willing to wait a few days my  requests r still open <3

masterlist!

You stop for painkillers on the way home, unhappy with Paris' January rain and the biting wind that continued to torment your walk from the metro station to your apartment, missing Kylian's offers of picking you up from work so you could sit in his warm, dry car and complain about your boss – coming back from the away game had changed his training schedule, so he wouldn't get back until after you did.

At home, after taking the medication and making yourself some tea, you start on dinner, pushing through the cramps and headache that are currently plaguing you – a sign your period is around the corner, you guess, given that you're a few days late.

Kylian announces his arrival with a groan, dumping his bag in the hallway and making a beeline for you in the kitchen, stopping briefly to stroke the cat before wrapping his arms tight around you, face buried in the crook of your neck as he breathes you in for a minute, attached to your back while you try to keep chopping vegetables. "Y'alright, sweetheart? What's up?" You ask.

"Just missed you." he says, the sensation of him talking into your skin tickling you.

"Mm, even after a few hours?"

"Eight hours is more than a few." he insists.

You smile to yourself. "I love you."

"And I love you." he says, "How was your day?"

"Boring," you sigh, filling him in on your cramps, work drama and how your work friend had had another awful date the night before. He gives you more attention than your stories justify, shooing you away from the cooking the moment he hears about your headache, insisting you should just rest, reminding you that the two of you are meant to be babysitting tomorrow night. You sit on one of the stools, watching him cook with pure fondness, and laughing when he insists on eating in front of the TV.

With your plates left on the coffee table, he lies between your legs, absentmindedly stroking the cat while he lays his head on your chest as you watch a new Netflix film that neither of you are particularly interested in; he keeps trying to guess what will happen, and blushing when you tease him for his hilariously inaccurate predictions.

-

The nausea doesn't subside the next morning – not that you tell Kylian that – but it's relatively low-key, so you go to work anyway, smiling every time Kylian sends you an update on his day – a selfie of him and Hakimi, a photo of his lunch, a little rant about a pop song he can't seem to escape. You send him some of your own updates, despite the teasing you get from your friend when you send him a picture of you at lunch with her.

Amélie offers her sympathies over your apparent illness, agreeing that it's probably some combination of your period and a mild bug, though not without a throwaway joke about you being pregnant – "You and Kylian have been wrapping it before tapping it, right?" she had teased.

Leaving the café after parting ways with your friend, you began to wonder – you and Kylian had stopped using condoms pretty quickly after you got together, opting to rely on your birth control pill and his pullout game, but you found yourself wondering if you had forgotten any lately, or if it simply hadn't worked. But no, you weren't pregnant.

Nevertheless, you stop by the pharmacy on the way back to the office, buying a pack of two tests to take later.

You were jittery all afternoon, googling pregnancy symptoms on the toilet and asking your older colleague about her pregnancies, careful not to raise any suspicions.

When Kylian texted you to say he'd pick you up in five minutes, you put the tests at the bottom of your bag, not wanting to have that conversation with him until you'd confirmed that you weren't, in fact, pregnant. It would be a good way to bring the conversation about kids back up – just to check he still wanted them, and that you were still on the same page about leaving it for a couple of years.

He kisses you as you get in the passenger seat, leaving his hand on your lower thighs as he navigates the city, the conversation light.

Your brother drops your nieces off at your flat not long after you get home, the two girls are more than pleased to be spending time with their aunt and uncle. You love how much they love him, how they seem unable to stop laughing when he's near, or the fact that he let's them drag him into all kinds of silliness – tonight, they insist on giving him a makeover, asking you for nail polish and makeup while he sits in the living room, looking more than a little apprehensive. You give them some pink nail polish and some of your older, cheaper makeup, having learnt your lesson from the time the elder of the two, Rosie, bit through your favourite lipstick.

Rosie decides to start with eyeliner, while Poppy starts to cover Kylian's fingers with hot pink polish, getting as much of the stuff on his skin as on his nails, while he sits there and takes it, pouting when you giggle or take photos to send to your brother. The girls are having the time of their lives however, putting enough blush on his cheeks to turn him as red as their namesakes, highlight streaking over his cheekbones and lipstick getting almost to his chin with the messy application. His nails are all pink, as he obediently waits for them to dry while your nieces giggle and start trying to put it on each other – you only intervene when Poppy tries to use the nail polish as lipstick, opting to take it off them and let Kylian entertain them with something more suited to him – a game of hallway football – a favourite of everyone but the cat, who's hiding from the grabby hands of your nieces in your bedroom.

You persuade him to let you take a picture of his fully made up face, unable to stop laughing at the sight of him. If you are pregnant, you hope every evening is like this. You sit in the kitchen, listening to the loud smacks of the football against the wall as the two girls try to get the ball to hit the bedroom door behind him, Kylian doing his best to act as a goalkeeper. The shouts and gleeful cackles from the hallway make you smile – your brother has done so much to give his kids a better childhood than the one you shared, and suddenly you can't wait to do the same with Kylian. You sink down into the sofa, thinking of the pregnancy tests at the bottom of your handbag; you can already imagine the family Christmases, Kylian splurging on their birthdays and getting protective the moment their old enough to think about relationships; the kids' football games that they'll inevitably play in, the other mums being taken with him while you stand there, knowing he's yours.

You pull yourself from the thought, reminding yourself that you wanted to wait a couple of years and that the test was most likely going to be negative and your cramps were probably just your period.

"Auntie Y/N?" Poppy asked, apparently having left her sister and Kylian to the hallway football. You pick her up and change the TV from an adult comedy to a kids’ channel.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

She cuddles up to you, "Rosie says Uncle Kyky's famous."

You smile at her, nodding. “Yeah, he’s a pretty big deal.”

The toddler frowns, "Why?"

"Uncle Kyky plays football in big stadiums." you say, not entirely sure how to explain to a barely-three-year-old that her ‘Uncle Kyky’ is a world famous footballer when she barely knows what football is.

She frowns. "Can I be famous?"

"If you want to." you say.

"Are you famous?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"I don't really want to be." you say, "Uncle Kyky gets enough attention for the two of us."

She thinks about it for a long moment. "I think I pooped."

You're too busy laughing at the sudden switch up to be concerned with the fact that she's sat in your lap and may well have gotten poo all over your new jeans, your roaring laughter confusing her as it gets Rosie and Kylian's attention, the two of them appearing from the hallway, frowning at you as you lift Poppy off your lap, glad to see there aren't any stains on your clothes or the sofa. "God, that's stinky." you tell her, still laughing.

After getting her changed out of her poopy clothes and into her pyjamas, you start to wind down for the evening, trying to bore the two girls out so they'll go to bed; they do so eventually, Poppy snoring away on Kylian's shoulder as you watch some comedy, Rosie bright and attentive as Kylian takes her little sister to the spare room to go to bed. Rosie goes not long after, and you make sure to keep her as quiet as possible when you tuck her into bed beside her sister, the two girls curling up in the bed, a much too big king sized bed, and all those thoughts of parenthood come right back. This could be you and Kylian's life, everyday, poo and all.

In the living room, you lie with your head in his lap as he plays Fifa with the volume right down. He absentmindedly strokes your hair between games, sensing you getting more tired by the minute; eventually, he suggests you go to bed, making sure to leave the door to the spare room ajar in case the girls wake up, and joining you in the ensuite bathroom so you can brush your teeth together. You reflect, while listening to Kylian change in your room, that the night has been incredibly domestic, though in a way so different to your usual routines. You join your boyfriend in the bedroom and change into one of his tops.

"I'm gonna leave the door open in case one of them needs us." you say, conscious that they still wake up in the night fairly often, and Kylian beckons you to join him in bed, the two of you settling so that his bare chest is pressed into the cotton of your shirt, drifting off with his body heat encapsulating you, glad you don't have work in the morning.

-

When you wake up, Kylian's gone, a dent left in the mattress from where he had been; the clock says it's past ten, so you drag yourself out of bed and pull on some of his joggers, brushing your teeth while you check your texts, confirming that your sister-in-law would pick up the kids in forty-five minutes and seeing the results of one of the Premier League matches on your feed – your algorithm clearly aware of your vested interest in football. In the kitchen, your nieces are giggling their socks off at Kylian's poor attempts at flipping pancakes, each equally covered in Nutella from pancakes they had, apparently, already had.

"What's this?" You ask, alerting them of your presence.

"Pancake Saturday!" the three of them say in unison, as though it's completely obvious.

"Pancake Saturday?" You repeat.

"Papa always makes us pancakes on Saturdays." Rosie tells you.

"Does he?" You murmur, knowing that Kylian had been taken for a fool – your brother couldn't make a pancake if his life depended on it.

You move to the coffee machine, brushing sleep from your eyes, but Kylian stops you, pressing his lips to your forehead. "Your coffee's on the counter."

You smile, sipping it as Kylian successfully slips the pancake, eliciting a cheer from his audience. He gives it to you, so you join your nieces at the table and cover it in Nutella, rolling it and taking a bite, the chocolate spread sticky and runny from the warmth of the pancake.

When you've all stuffed yourselves with pancakes, you go to get the girls changed while Kylian washes up the mess he made, your nieces reeking havoc as you sort out their belongings, Kylian answering the door to their mum just as Rosie finishes ‘plaiting’  Poppy's hair, completely tangling it and nearly giving you an aneurism when you see the state of her hair.

Helene finds you brushing out the knot in her daughter's hair, Rosie watching curiously as though she's never seen a hairbrush before.

When they're gone, the flat feels utterly silent. Kylian cuddles up to you on the sofa, a residual smile still on his face from your babysitting fiascos. "Mm, I love you." he says, his hands flat on your back under your shirt, cold on your skin.

"I love you too. I love seeing you with them."

"One day our kids will be having sleepovers with them so we can have date nights like your brother." he tells you, making you smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I can't wait to have kids with you, but I'd need you all to myself sometimes."

You mull his words over. You'll need to take the pregnancy tests eventually, to find out whether there's any point to your theorising. "What do you want for lunch?" You ask, afraid to stay on the subject.

"I was thinking pasta." he says, words humming through your ribs.

-

You take the test that evening, while Kylian's on the phone to his nutritionist, already dressed for the dinner you're having with Achraf and Hiba, and nearly cry when it comes back positive. You're not sure how to feel, just that the two lines fill you with anxiety, and that you’re glad that, on some level, all the thoughts you’d been having about starting a family with Kylian weren’t for nothing. You stash the test at the bottom of your makeup bag, checking your lipstick as Kylian comes back into the bedroom, complimenting your dress, hands finding your hips as he kisses you.

"We need to go," you say, "The taxi's waiting."

He follows you out, letting you pull him out the flat and onto the street, but insists on opening the car door for you, always a gentleman.

The traffic is mild for a Saturday night, so you manage to get to the restaurant before your friends, though you're drastically slowed by a bunch of football fans who ask for Kylian's photo or signature, because Kylian doesn't have it in him to refuse. In the end, you're only waiting for Achraf and Hiba for a couple of minutes before they arrive, immediately diving into a story about their sons reeking more havoc – as always.

The waiter appears, asking for orders, taking everyone's food and drinks, and Hiba sends you a quizzical look when you order mocktail rather than your usual wine – you don't respond, just turning the conversation to an upcoming PSG dinner you're all meant to be attending. You can tell she's waiting to ask though, watching you like a hawk all night, right up until you head to the bathroom.

When you leave your cubicle to wash your hands, she's leaning on the edge of the sink. "Y'know, people pee a lot at the start of pregnancies, because your kidneys start producing way more liquids."

You start to wash your hands, "I knew you'd figured it out immediately."

"Does Kylian know?"

You dry your hands. "I've known for barely two hours, so, uh, no."

She smiles at you. "This is exciting – the boys will be so happy to have a new playmate."

"Hold your horses, I don't know what he's gonna say yet."

"He wants kids though, right?"

You shrug. "Yeah, we've talked about it, but we were – or are? I don't know – planning to wait a couple of years."

She nods. "You'll do what's best for you, you're sensible like that. Only you can tell you what to do with your body."

You think about it for a few long seconds. "Yeah. Yeah, I hope so."

"C'mon, they'll start thinking we've left if we don't go back."

The rest of the meal goes smoothly, with Hiba sending you subtle looks every time her sons are mentioned, making you all the more anxious to go home and talk this whole thing out with your boyfriend, whose hand seems to be permanently attached to your thigh.

Eventually, after splitting the bill and bidding farewells, you find yourself pressed into Kylian's side in the back of a taxi, internally cursing the horrid January cold, and after what feels like forever, you're changing out of your dress while Kylian is in the loo, talking to you while he washes his hands.

You come into the bathroom while he's drying them, smiling when he greets you with a peck to your cheek, preemptively handing you your makeup wipes: always knowing your next move.

Bored, he starts to inspect the products in the bathroom cabinet, picking them up to read the labels while you exfoliate, watching him out the corner of your eye, seeing him get slowly closer to the makeup bag where the positive test is stashed, unsure whether or not to stop him before he discovers it.

"What's retinol?" he asks, picking up a small bottle.

"It keeps your skin clear." you say, not sure how to explain it because you're not really sure yourself.

"Doesn't, like, everything in this cabinet do that?"

"No." you say weakly, making him chuckle.

You hear the clatter of your makeup bag being picked up, and the sound of different objects knocking together. "What's – oh."

You turn around; he's staring at the test, apparently dumbfounded. You feel yourself blushing, unsure how to navigate the moment. "Yeah. I took it just before we left earlier."

He looks up at you, still in shock, yet to say anything. "That's why you ordered the mocktail."

You giggle. "It's also why Hiba took me hostage in the bathroom."

"We were wondering where you'd gone," he admits. "What are you going to do?"

You stare at him for a few seconds before correcting him. "What are we going to do?"

He holds your gaze. "It's your body, not mine. You know I'd love to have this child, but that's not my decision to make."

You can feel the tears threatening to spill – why do you have to decide? He wraps his arms around you, encasing you in his scent, overwhelming you. Tentatively, you wrap your arms around his waist. "You don't have to decide now," he reminds you, "You have time."

You nod, inhaling deeply. "Do you want this? Like, really truly want this?"

He pulls back so he can look at you properly. "I love you, and I would be happy either way, but I'd love to have this child with you – I'd love to."

You nod. "I can't believe I'm gonna be a mum."

His face breaks into a smile, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, fuck yeah."

He kisses you, keeping you close. "God, I'm so excited."

You can't help but smile at the thought of him, a dad.

"Can we go to my parents' house tomorrow? To tell them?"

You nod, still crying.

-

Fayza is delighted to have you both over again, asking about your siblings and nieces, apparently forgetting that her son is standing beside you, sulking about not being the centre of attention. She offers you wine, and frowns but doesn't push when you refuse, then cooks the best meal you've had in months. Ethan greets you when he gets back from seeing his friends, taking the first opportunity to take the piss out of his older brother. You're happy to watch the family be amongst themselves, wondering about what they'll be like with the baby, how they'll react, what they'll say and ask.

You're sort of waiting for Kylian to bring it up – it's his family, after all, but it's starting to feel like it'll never happen. As always, he senses your anxiety, squeezing your hand under the table while you all eat, earning a shy smile. Ethan raises an eyebrow at the interaction, pausing his eating. "Okay, seriously – what's going on?"

Kylian clears his throat. "Uh, well, Y/N and I are expecting."

"'Expecting'?" Ethan repeats. "What are you, fifty?"

"Oh piss off," Kylian groans, rolling his eyes, "There go your chances of being the godfather."

Fayza is staring at you. "You're serious? You're pregnant?"

You nod slowly, relief washing over you as she smiles, getting up from her seat to hug you, congratulating you as she does so.

Later, as you're sitting watching the news, Kylian's dad clears his throat. "You'll need to announce it at some point."

Kylian glances sideways at him, his arm over your shoulders. "We have time – I don't want to rush into any announcements. It needs to be as smooth as possible, right?"

"Stress is bad for the baby!" Fayza chides, appearing from the kitchen with a cup of herbal tea for you.

"Stress is bad for the baby." Kylian repeats, making his dad chuckle.

"Of course, take your time, talk to the media team at PSG and all of that, but I'm just reminding you."

You sip the tea, holding the mug in one hand while you google how far into pregnancy you're meant to stop having caffeine and finding out you're now limited to only two cups a day – less than 24 hours into getting the positive test, and you've already had to say goodbye to smoking, drinking, sushi and salami, and – less reluctantly – cleaning out the cat's litter box, and finding out you'll have to get a handle on your caffeine addiction is only more upsetting. Kylian kisses your hairline, "Thoughts?"

"About announcing?"

He hums.

"I don't know. We've always been private, and I don't think I want the world to know about this just yet."

"We'll wait as long as you like, chérie."

You press closer into his body. "That doesn't mean you can't tell your mates though, you know."

He makes another noise of agreement. "Are you tired?"

You nod, thankful that he noticed your fatigue.

"We'll go soon."

-

You’re sitting in the office, scrolling through a webpage about the first trimester of pregnancy, looking up every few seconds in case one of your colleagues walks past, curiosity overcoming your concerns about having your pregnancy discovered prematurely. You’re still fatigued, and the morning sickness is starting to ramp up, but it’s not too bad – not bad enough that you feel like you can’t go to work, anyway. The time in the corner of your screen reads at quarter past five, so you decide to call it a day – you’re going to your brother’s house to announce the pregnancy, and the traffic will make it a forty minute drive.

“Where are you off to?” asks your older colleague from two desks away, Cynthia.

“My brother’s,” you say, “I’m getting picked up in a minute.”

She leans back in her chair as you shrug on your coat. “Ah, the footballer.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Cynthia, the footballer.”

“Hmm, I don’t know why you’re still working when your man’s on a €90 million salary.” she muses.

“Believe it or not, I quite like working here.” you say teasingly.

She frowns. “The boss isn’t here, there’s no need to lie.”

You laugh, gathering up the last of your belongings and checking you’ve got your phone and keys. “See you tomorrow, Cynthia.”

She salutes you as you head to the list, checking your notifications – Kylian’s outside, and your parents have announced on the family group chat that they are coming to dinner with your brother after all.

Kylian kisses you as you get in the car, smiling as you settle into the passenger seat beside him and reminding you to do your seatbelt.

“So, my parents are coming after all.” you say, earning a badly stifled groan. “I know, I know. They want to see the girls before they go to Rome.”

You divert the conversation from your parents to ask him about his day, listening to his stories about tripping Hakimi up in a drill and the conversation he had with Marquinhos after training. “Oh, and my mum dropped by this afternoon,” he says, “she had a load of pregnancy books from the 90s, and one of those name dictionaries.”

You smile at the thought. “I’ll ask my brother if he has any more modern books.”

He squeezes your knee, “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

You nod, “Jesus, I know. I can barely look after myself – I have no clue how I’m going to look after a whole other human as well.”

“We’ll figure it out, chérie.” he assures you, pulling into your brother’s neighbourhood and finding a parking space a few houses down.

“My parent’s car’s already outside.” you say, trying to hide the frustration in your voice. It was fair to say your relationship with your parents hadn’t always been smooth sailing – moving out at eighteen had made your life a thousand times easier – it was easier to love them from a distance. Sure, they were still fairly local, but their decision to move 90 minutes from Paris at least put some distance between you.

“I wonder if they’re staying over?” Kylian asked as you approached the driveway, walking between the two parked cars and ringing the doorbell. You could hear the distinctive peals of laughter from your nieces as the heavier footfall of your brother sounded through the house as he came to open the door, greeting you both and putting your coats on hooks. You pushed your shoes off and made it into the living room, where your nieces were running circles around your mother, who went to hug you immediately, kissing you on each cheek and leaning back to look at you, her hands on your arms. “Is that how you wear your hair these days?”

You can practically feel Kylian tense beside you. Your father interrupts the tension completely obliviously, barreling in from the kitchen to greet you both, distracting your mum from her nitpicking by not-so-subtly sneaking his granddaughters some sweets as you ask them about their weekends. She starts to fuss, allowing you a moment to breathe as your dad traps Kylian into a conversation about football.

In the kitchen, Helene looks just about ready to pull her hair out as she fusses over timings, your brother dressing a salad beside her; she kisses you on each cheek and rejects your offer of help, insisting she’s got it all covered.

“Y/N, ma chére, doesn’t Kylian have a match tomorrow?” your mum asks, an unsubtle way of asking if he has to be here.

“Well that doesn’t mean he can’t eat dinner.” you say, turning to your brother, “Did I see what I sent you about his nutritionist’s instructions?”

“Yeah, and I told you not to worry about it,” he says, “We’re perfectly capable, you know.”

“I know Helene’s capable, the verdict’s still out on you.”

He makes a face at you, rolling his eyes as he looks away. Your mum sips her wine, “Y/N, how’s Kylian been since, you know, the World Cup?”

You make eye contact with your brother. “Why don’t you ask him, Mum?” he asks.

“I don’t want to overstep. Y/N?”

“Well, we have been together for nearly-”

“I meant about the World Cup. How is he?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah, no, it’s been tough, but he’s alright. Been spending lots of time with Achraf.”

“Ah, the other footballer.” your mum says, sipping her wine again.

Your dad comes in from the living room. “Y/N, Kylian is so good with the girls.”

“Yeah, Dad, I know.” you say, “What drinks do you have?”

“Alcohol or not?” Helene asks you, reaching for the bottle of wine.

“Uh, non-alcoholic, I’ll probably be driving.”

She nods, “There’s some coke in the fridge, or juice, or water?”

You get yourself some water, peeking through the door at Kylian, who’s being wrestled by Rosie and Poppy, apparently taken aback by their strength-to-size ratio. You lean in the doorway, watching them for a moment before your mum distracts you, instructing you to lay the table while your brother gets out the glasses. In your typical fashion, the two of you bicker through the whole process, the kitchen becoming more crowded when Kylian brings in your nieces, who insist on the attention of their grandparents and keep trying to sneak food.

Once you’re sat at the table, sandwiched between Kylian and Rosie, you start thinking about how to go about announcing it; how do you segue into the topic? How do you do it without inviting criticism about the timing or the fact it’s unplanned.

You can feel Kylian’s nerves beside you, now in the exact position you were in only days ago. Rosie takes a potato off your plate, biting into it before you’ve realised she’d grabbed it. Helene starts to laugh, gently scolding her daughter through the table’s laughter. “God, one of the hardest things about having kids was learning to share food, you know.” your mum muses, “Your brother was such a little thief.”

He looks over at her, “Maybe I was hungry?”

“I don’t know, you were always more interested in eating from anyone’s plate but your own.”

“I wonder where Rosie gets it from.” Helene jokes.

You look over at your mother, sitting at the head of the table. “So, Y/N, how’s work? Any promotions we should know about?”

“Uh, no, it’s the same as ever.” you say, sensing the beginning of an interrogation.

“Well there must be something.” she says, continuing even when you shake your head. “D’you know, I worry that all of that academic talent just went nowhere after you graduated.”

“Mum, it’s not like my job isn't challenging.” You defend.

She hums, “Well, I just think if you’re waiting a few years to have kids –” she sends a pointed look at Helene – “you might as well push in your career.”

“Well, Mum, actually-”

“After all, we can’t all be lawyers,” a pointed look at your brother, “or footballers.”

You swallow, listening as she keeps pressing on about your lack of ambition, feeling Kylian’s hand find yours under the table. “Mum, I’m pregnant.”

The table ruminates in your outburst for a long few seconds. She stares at you, trying to compute your statement; your dad is the first to move.

He stands up, coming around the table and beckoning for a hug; you push the chair out and accept his embrace, appreciating his congratulations. By the time he’s stopped hugging you, Helene and Y/B/N are kissing your cheeks and asking questions – how far along are you? How long have you known? How did you find out?

Your mum is the last to congratulate you, pressing her hand to your stomach. "I'm telling you now, it's a boy."

"Mum, it's like the size of a sesame seed." you groan as you all sit back down.

She shrugs. "You know, I thought you'd gained weight."

"Jesus, Mum, give her a break!" your brother groans, earning an appreciative smile from Kylian – who you think must have had enough of your family's shit to last him for the next year.

“So you’re getting married now, right?”

“Mum!”

In the car on the way home, he turns to you. "God, they’re a lot.”

“My mum’s a lot.” you correct. “It’s not the worst it could have gone.”

He sends you a pointed look – you know how he feels about your parents, but you’ll always maintain your line; it’s easier to love them from a distance.

-

At lunch with Amélie the next day, after you tell her the excitement of the week and mention that you're four weeks pregnant, she sets her gin and tonic on the table, one brow raised. "Wait, that means this kid was conceived while you guys were in Qatar."

You do the mental maths. "No, wait, holy shit."

She smirks, raising her gin and tonic as toast. "This kid's so fucking lucky already, man. Imagine being able to say you were conceived at a World Cup."

“Imagine being able to say your dad is the Kylian Mbappé.”

She shrugs, “Hey, you can literally tell people he’s your baby daddy, I don’t want to hear it.”

You smile at the thought. “I can’t believe I’m pregnant. There’s literally a foetus inside me right now.”

She glances down at your stomach. “I can’t believe you're pregnant. I swear we were like eighteen living off pot noodles like a week ago.”

You smile at the thought of your university days – pre-Kylian, independent for the first time, figuring out how to function independently. “Don’t make me feel old.”

She grins, “In a year, when you’ve given birth and recovered and everything, we’ll go clubbing.”

“I don’t think I’ll be up for clubbing when I’ve got a three-month-old or whatever, but we’ll make our own fun.” you point out. “I hope it’s a cute baby.”

She frowns, “Fuck that, I hope they’re a funny kid. I would not want to carry a child for nine months, push it out of my vagina and then look after it for years only for them to be a boring twat.”

You return her frown. “I’m glad you’re not the pregnant one.”

She raises her glass again, “Preach.”

-

“How was lunch with Amélie?” Kylian asks midway through an episode of Love is Blind.

“Good, she’s well. D’you know what she pointed out?”

“Hm, what?”

“The baby must’ve been conceived in Qatar.”

He looks over at you, also doing the maths. “After the England game?”

“That’s what I thought.” you said, “Funny, huh?”

“He’s a winner, at least.” Kylian says. “Gonna be a footballer.”

“‘He’?”

Kylian shrugs. “I think so.”

“Well at least you and Mum agree on something.” you tease.

Somehow, he’s always right.

#Kylian Mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x you #km7 #km10 #achraf hakimi

[cherryxcadbury]

hey! just saw your post. could you write a mbappe imagine where they have a child and him and the child try to convince the reader for another sibling. super fluff!! 💋💋

LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS!

2nd person pov

"Nicolas! Amour! Where are you two?" You called, waltzing into the sitting room where your son & husband sat.

The two were snuggled into the couch, whispering loudly into each other's ears in French. You tried hard to understand what they were saying, but your lack of knowledge on French did not help you in the slightest. The two perked up when they saw you enter.

"Cherie! Come sit!" Kylian smiled, patting the sofa, gesturing to sit between him and Nicolas.

You smiled, doing as suggested, laying back into the couch. Nicolas immediately climbed on your lap, while Kylian moved closer to you and placed your legs on his lap.

You eyed your two boys suspiciously. 

"What's going on?" 

"What do you mean mummy?" Nicolas looked up at you with deep eyes, full of emotion.

You chuckled, "Nothing. Mummy didn't mean anything." You kissed his cheek.

"I meant, what's up with you?" You shot Kylian a pointed look, who smiled sheepishly.

"Well, me and Nicolas were talking about what he wants for his birthday." Kylian began. 

You quirked and eyebrow at the both of them this time.

"Your birthday was last month love." You told your son.

"Yes but next year. When I turn four." He responded.

"Well," You said, turning your head to face him, "What is it that you want."

"A little brother or sister." He grinned, with so much hope in his eyes.

You smiled back at him but shot Kylian a dirty look, who just smirked in reply. He gently grabbed your face, and kissed you. It was a clear attempt to convince you to try for another child.

You swatted him away and turned back to Nicolas. 

"You know my love. Having a child isn't that easy." You reminded your son.

"Why don't you just go to the store and buy one?" Nicolas questioned innocently.

His eyes lit up suddenly, "Oh oh oh! Or ask Santa for Christmas next year, and a stork will come and drop one off!"

"Actually Nico, to have a child it needs more involvement in mummy and daddy's part s—" Kylian began.

You immediately shushed him. 

"Idiot! He's too young for this talk!" You scolded your husband.

"Mummy and Daddy will try very hard and talk to Santa about it. Okay?" You told Nicolas, who nodded enthusiastically. 

"Now come on, let's watch the film." You all directed your attention to the television.

Well at least you all thought you directed your attention. Not a moment later you felt a hand on your thigh. A thumb circling in the same spot over & over again. You turned to scowl at Kylian who just winked at you. 

You couldn't help but laugh.

***

Not more than thirty minutes later, Nicolas was asleep.

Kylian bent low to Nicolas's ear and whispered something in French to see if he was still awake. He was not. The two of your shared a knowing look. Words weren't needed ti communicate what you needed to communicate. 

You both got up, Nicolas in your arms, Kylian's arms around your waist. You had to walk only a few strides before you entered your son's room. Kylian gently laid him down and kissed his forehead. You sat on the edge of the bed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. You kissed Nicolas's cheek, and wished him a good night. Though he was fast, fast asleep. 

The two of you walked out of his room quietly, being extra careful when closing the door. A sigh of relief was let out when it was all done without waking him up. You were about to head to the washroom to shower and get ready for bed before you felt Kylians grip on your wrist. He twirled you around so you were close to the wall. His forehead against yours, lips merely centimeters away from each other. 

"So about that baby?" He smirked. 

You scoffed. 

"Aw come on cherie! It's not like we can't give him a sibling." Kylian protested.

You playfully rolled your eyes.

"Maybe I just don't want to do what's required to make the child." You shot him a wink.

Kylian cocked his head, "Amour. I'm Kylian Mbappe. Everyone's attracted to me!" 

You smacked your hand against your forehead.

"Contrary to popular belief Kylian. Not everyone finds ninja turtles attractive."

“Pleaseee Y/N! Think about how cute it would be to have a little you running around! Then our family would truly be complete!”

You gave him a quick peck on the lips, before strolling into your master bedroom, purposefully leaving the door wide open.

Kylian stood dumbfounded for a few minutes. He was very very confused. His ego also took a hit. You poked your head out from the door.

"Do you want to make that baby or not?" 

Thanks to Kylians speed, it didn't take one second for him to be in that room with the door slammed shut. 

*** Eleven months later

“Nicolas! Come see your birthday gift.” You warmly smiled at your son from the hospital bed.

Nicolas walked gingerly, hand in hand with his dad. Kylian greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, while Nicolas stood on his tip toes to see his new siblings. They were twins, one boy, and one girl.

Was that the plan? No, not really.

Nicolas’s eyes widened in delight while Kylian was almost reduced to tears. You propped Nicolas up on the hospital bed with you, while transferring both children into the arms of Kylian.

“They’re beautiful amour. We did a great job. I’m proud of you.” Kylian complimented, wishing he could take your hand if both weren’t occupied with holding his new kids.

“Mummy. I asked Santa for two brothers. Not a sister. The storks messed up.” Nicolas frowned.

You and Kylian laughed while he nudged Nicolas’s shoulder.

“Nicolas. Do you want to name them?” Kylian asked earnestly, receiving a nod from you in approval.

Secretly, you were a little hesitant. There was one certain name you had your heart set on for the girl, you doubted Nicolas would choose it. But his happiness mattered more to you than some picture perfect names.

“Hmmm, for the boy, Theo.” Nicolas started.

You nodded, you liked it.

“And for the girl. Lena!” Nicolas cheered, looking into your eyes with glee.

You grinned, that had been the name you wanted all along. But how did he know? Ah, of course. You turned your head to meet your husband’s gaze. Of course it was Kylian’s doing.

“I love you.” You mouthed to him.

“I love you more.” He winked back, causing your cheeks to grow red.

still, after all these years. That man’s affect on you would never change.

#kylianmbappe #kylian mbappe #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappé #achraf hakimi #Mbappe #mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe blurb #france national team #psg #imagines #football imagines #kylian

[spidybaby]

Flowers

Summary: Who would have thought some flowers can make that much drama.

Warnings: none, kinda angsty but fluffy.

A/N: I've been so busy with college that I feel bad for not posting. So here's this piece. Hope you like it 😀💛

Everything started with your friend giving you the idea of pranking Kylian, posting a story of some flowers with the caption "thank you baby ❤️"

At first, you didn't want to because Kylian was the kind of boyfriend to always give you flowers, taking you to dinner, doing little things for you.

But when the vacation started, he went to Miami with Achraf and Melissa. You declined his invite to go with him. Due to your work, you needed to be available for your coworkers since you were just promoted as a higher up.

Melissa was sad. It was her first vacation away from the kids and now away from you. You both became really close since you began dating Kylian.

Kylian is someone who girls always try to get with. Something you weren't to moved to, it didn't worry you. You trusted him, and he trusted you. It's teamwork.

Something that began to worry you was him not answering his phone, your texts, nothing. It was like he went ghost mode.

You thought it was because his data was not active or something, but then you saw the ig post. He has data to post, then he can at least dm you to let you know he was fine.

You didn't need him to be glue to the phone for you, but at least let you know he was fine. Only that.

So, you texted Melissa, asking her if she was enjoying the vacation, if she was tanning. But, she left you on read.

That's when the words of your friend made sound in your head. Was that a good thing to do?

"Of course it is. It's a harmless story, and you can even text him saying "thank you for my flowers while you're away." Your friend says, looking at the flower catalog. "So this peonies, please"

You open your phone just to see the seen texts. You didn't understand why he was acting like that. If he wanted a space free vacation, he could have said it.

"Okay, all done. Let's go." Your friend says, grabbing your arm to drag you outside of the store.

"Wait, did you pay?"

"Yes, you'll get them tomorrow."

You both ended up at some cafe, talking about the updates of your lives.

"Don't worry, if you're not comfortable with this, you don't have to do it." She says as she leaves you on the door of your house.

"I'll think about it."

You wave her goodbye as she drives off.

You went off with your night, didn't want to bother Kylian. Maybe he's busy and needs a breath from everything. Maybe he wanted to be alone for a while.

"Maybe you're too much for him," a voice in your head says.

Okay, no, you're not. If you were, he would not be with you.

You push all those thoughts out of your head and decide to sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be better.

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You saw the pictures he posted, the outfit you helped him put together. Yet he still hasn't answered your texts.

You take a look at your bouquet of peonies, you think a little bit before taking the picture. You add a white heart, uploading it to your story.

You send a pic to him over text, thanking him for sending them while he was on vacation.

You decide to turn off your phone as soon as you start receiving the notifications of instagram. You turn on your TV and start your favorite show, taking a caring only on the TV.

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Kylian was calmly talking with Achraf. They were going to dinner with some friends of him.

"Kylian, you're such a lover boy for your girlfriend." Melissa says, looking at your story. Kylian didn't understand, but he just nodded.

He got that type of comment from Achraf, too. He was kind of confused about why the sudden interest on him being a "good boyfriend."

It was not clear until Neymar texted him, asking him where he found the peonies, wanting to get some for his baby gender reveal and not being able due to the shortage of them.

He frowned, reading the text, Neymar attached a picture of your story.

You tag him in a story of a big bouquet of peonies thanking him. He never sent you that bouquet. He told Neymar that he will text him the info, but he didn't have any info to share.

He quickly noticed the text you sent him. "Thank you, mon amour. You're the best ❤️ I love peonies, and you know it 🥰" He tried to call several times. You didn't answer. It went straight to voice mail.

After that, Melissa asked him what was wrong, and when he explained, she tried to call you, nothing. Even Achraf gave his phone to Kylian, nothing.

He was worried. Who sent you flowers? Why would someone send you flowers? Were you aware he was not the one sending you flowers?

He stayed in, but for nothing, you weren't answering your phone.

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You turn your phone back on the next day. You needed to make some calls and send some emails so you will do it from your phone.

The first thing you saw was that you have 5 missed calls from Melissa, 8 from Kylian and even two from Achraf.

You also got a lot of texts. Even one from Bruna, Neymar's girlfriend, she was asking me to ask Kylian where he found the peonies. She wanted some for her gender reveal.

You answer her, giving her the info from the florist. And also assuring her that you will be at her gender reveal.

Another text was from Ethan, asking you to go out but using that insta story to deliver the message. You say yes.

And then a text message from your boyfriend. He was asking if you're available to call you. You wanted to say yes, call him and talk, but your toxic side says no. Let him overthink. So you ignored his, Melissa's, and Achraf texts. Instead, you call Ethan and tell him you'll pick him up to go to brunch.

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"You have to calm down." Achraf says, watching Kylian passing around the room, phone in hand. "Maybe you did send them, and you're forgetting it." He shakes his head no, he didn't. He would remember.

"I didn't."

"Ethan and her are going out." Melissa says, reading the text Fayza sent her. "They're going out for brunch."

"Why is she not answering my texts or calls then?" Kylian sat down, angry.

"Maybe because you haven't answered hers." Achraf points out.

Melissa agreed with him.

"But she told me she was going to be busy." He almost screamed. "I didn't want to distract her."

"Okay, but you even told Melissa not to answer her. Maybe she's mad at you."

And I was true, Kylian told Melissa not to bother you. Since you got your new work, you were busy, so he didn't want you to feel like you were pressured to do a lot of things at the same time.

"But.-"

"But nothing," Achraf interrupts. "Let's not worry, even if the flowers are from another dude, she thanked you. She's not thinking about anyone else."

They both shut his insecurities, and Melissa took his phone. She sent you a text saying sorry for not answering and sending you some pictures.

The rest of his vacation was weird, he keeps sending you texts, and you kept ignoring him but updating your social media.

Melissa and you talked, you told her about the plan you and your friend had. She laughed and told you it was all between you and her.

Kylian, on the other side, was overthinking. He wanted to go back to Paris and be with you. In the last few, he sent you different things. He sent you flowers, he sent you chocolate, he sent you your favorite food, and he sent you your favorite coffee to your work.

You find all that cute and funny. He was so jealous. Your friend and you enjoyed the moment. He was getting his own medicine.

The day of his return, you text him as if nothing happened. Asking if he wanted to be picked up by you.

He immediately say yes, asking you how you were, if you received his things, you just answered with a "see you at the airport, amour"

Making him worried sick. Are you mad at him? Are you breaking up with him? Are you mad about something else? Achraf made him stop, telling him he was overthinking.

The whole flight he was thinking about you, he even texted Ethan for help, asking him to reserve for a super fancy restaurant, to run to the jewelry for something special for you and even asked his mother to go with his brother to pick you a special dress for the night.

When he arrived, it was 10 am. Perfect time for him to rest and to be with you all day and have that special date at night.

You waited at the parking of the airport, his driver was there with you, since he sent him to get you. Due to the flight being private, you could wait there.

You see the plane landing, and your stomach is full of butterflies. You missed him, too much for you to admit outloud.

When Achraf and Melissa got out of the plane, you and Lana got out of the car. Lana ran to her mother, and you said hi to Hakimi. After lana and Melissa greet each other you hugged her.

When Kylian was down, he waited for you and Melissa to talk a little bit, hugging his niece. Melissa pointed with the head to Kylian, who has his eyes fixed on you.

"Hi," you say softly, hugging him tight. "I missed you." You kiss his cheek. He was happy to see you, his face buried in your neck, enjoying the perfume he loved so much.

"I miss you more," he kissed your neck, making shivers run down your spine. He can feel them. Loving how your body reacts to him. Only him.

"Let's go, lovebirds," Melissa says, laughing as she enters the car. "You can talk at home." You both laugh, Kylian kisses your lips and walks hand in hand with you to the car.

The whole trip to his home was them telling you about the trip, and Lana asked some questions to her mom.

"Text me when you're home." You say to Melissa, she was going to her house, leaving Kylian and you alone at his own house. "Bye, Lana." You both waved them goodbye and enter his house.

"Come here." You say closing the door. You open your arms to him, kissing his lips. "I missed you so much, you have to tell me everything."

"I had so much fun, we have to go together, again, it's such a vibe."

You both walked upstairs, he needed to rest and you were helping him with the suitcase. "Thank you," he says, looking at you organizing his stuff. "I have something for you."

"More?" You laugh. "All you did was send me things. You already gave me enough, Ky."

"There's never enough with me." The cocky tone of voice he's using is funny to you. Sometimes you forget your boyfriend is The Kylian Mbappé. "I even have a whole plan for us tonight."

"Kylian, you have to rest." You put the suitcase down, leaving it for later. You needed to cuddle him. "I love you, but you're probably tired. I want you to feel good for this new season."

"I'll do that, but I have to spoil my baby. If I don't do that, who will?"

You spend the day with him in bed, both resting and loving the time you have together. This tight schedule doesn't allow this kind of moment very often, so you both learned to work around it.

Spending every minute you can together, after practice, after every match, free days, holidays. Every second was important for you. Even if it was only a hug and good luck or if it was a whole night, you appreciated everything.

You went home to get ready, his driver telling you he was collecting you at six o'clock. You thank him and run inside your house to get ready.

The first thing you see when you walk inside is the big designer bags. You gasped, not expecting all that.

You open your phone to thank Kylian for the things, assuring him that I was too much for a date night and you'll make it up to him.

After a long shower, you did your makeup and style your hair, using the fragrance you know he loves and wearing the dress he gave you. It was a beautiful black dress, he also went out of the way and got you this diamond necklace that's the perfect match for one he owns.

The driver picked you up at the exact time. He was alone. On the seat was this other gift, you sigh. He's killing you with all the gifts.

The little note attached to the black box reads "Open me" next to a heart he obviously drew. Inside was this lock bracelet from Tiffany.

"You're just the best 😍" you text him with a picture of the bracelet on you.

He was so excited for you to arrive. His foot is moving with impatience. He wants you to know he's all you need.

He knows that he's going out his way, giving you a little more than necessary, but he has all the money in the world when it comes to you. Never checking the price tag. It was for you so he didn't care how much.

"Hey handsome, care if I sit?" You whisper in his ear, making he shiver. He gets up to pull your chair out for you. "Thank you, such a gentleman." You kiss his cheek before taking a seat.

"I just want you to know how much I love you." He says, sitting back on the chair. "I'll do anything for you."

"Even if that meant going bankrupt for me." You joke. He laughs loud, not caring about people or nothing. You love seeing him like that, so free, so happy.

"I'll give you everything you want."

"I know, you know I'll do that too, just not that crazy with diamonds. But I'm all yours if that make it up."

You both talk about everything and nothing at the same time, Kylian rambles about life, sports, and his family. And you do the same.

"You know what's funny?" You ask him, ready to confess the whole bouquet thing. Knowing all his doing is his normal self but also is a little him being jealous.

"Tell me, amour." He grabs your hands. Bringing them to his mouth.

"You did all of this for some flowers."

You don't miss the way his body pauses for a second. He's not making eye contact like before. "What?- What are you talking about?" He laughs nervously.

"You got jealous because someone sent me that bouquet, so you started to send me more flowers, some chocolate, food, coffee, you did all of this." You drink your wine, enjoying how his mind is working trying to make an excuse.

"I don't recall, maybe you're confused." He says, eating more of his food.

"So you don't recall calling me eight times because you didn't send me that beautiful peonies bouquet?" You ask again. He's just shaking his head and eating. "Well, I do, and I got to thank my friend for sending it."

He choke on a piece of stake, coughing dramatically. "You have to what now?" He asks after a big sip of wine.

You explain to him everything. He's embarrassed for believing you meant you weren't coming because you were so busy that you couldn't even answer his texts.

After reassuring him, it was okay, but agreeing on talking more openly when this kind of doubt ran his head. He apologized, and you did too.

With him, everything is easy. Talking, laughing, and loving. He's yours, and you're his. No matter the gifts , the trips, the busy schedule. He's yours and only yours yo admire, to love and to share a life with.

"Let's pay and go home, champ," you say, making a signal to the waiter to bring you the check. "I promise you I was making it up to you for all the gifts." You caress his hand with your nails. Thing that he loves.

"You know you don't have to."

"Oh, I want to." You intertwine your hands. "Hope you still have that Miami energy. You'll need it for the night."

#football fanfic #football angst #football drabble #football #football x you #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe oneshot #kylian mbappe x reader #mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe fic #kylian mbappe imagine #mbappe #kylian mbappe #kylian fanfic #kylian x you #mbappe x reader #football fluff #achraf hakimi #kylian imagines #mbappe fanfic

[jkkyks]

MY FAVORITE BABIES UGH😔❤️

PS : can kylian hug me like this please?

#jkkyks #THE HUG UGH #kylian mbappe #I LOVE THEM #achraf hakimi #mbappé #kyky #kyks #mbappe icons #france #psg #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe lottin #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mb