#david raya

DECLAN RICE

he’s not possessive by any means. he totally doesn’t care that you chat with his friends or his teammates, but this guy? the one in the obnoxiously tight suit, was getting on his nerves.

he stood far too close to you and kept pressing his hand onto the small of your back. this drove Declan mad. he watched you flinch every time the lad placed his hand there, and he knew he’d gone too far by the third time.

puffing out his chest and standing taller than normal, declan sauntered over to where you stood, back facing him. carefully, he maneuvered around you as quiet as he could to startle the lad.

clearing his throat, declan wraps his arm tight around your middle section, pulling you into him. one look from his pale blue eyes sent the man quivering and apologizing.

“don’t touch her again.”

VIKTOR GYÖKERES

standing in the dark corner of the emirates media pen, viktor watched you answer questions gracefully and swiftly.

the hat he wore hung low over his pale blue eyes, and made him blend in among the security guards who stood the perimeter of the small room.

there was a special celebrity guest at the emirates tonight who was receiving a jersey with the teams signatures on it. as photographers began to capture the two of you smiling with the Arsenal jersey, viktor’s ears perked up at the man’s deep low voice.

viktor never prided himself in his hearing abilities, but tonight he was thankful for them, because had the celebrity not started getting a little too comfortable with his words, you would’ve stood there too stunned to reply.

“that’s enough.” viktors words cut through the room like ice. the flashes of the cameras quickly faded as their eyes landed upon him speechless.

“that’s my girlfriend.”

DAVID RAYA

standing tightly among arsenal employees, your head hung low, hands hovering over your eyes, as you looked at something on one of the employees devices.

while David took his turn traipsing around the stadium with the premier league trophy, raising it high above his head with a proud smile, a tug in his heart made it hard for his smile to be genuine.

clutching the trophy tight to his chest, he watched you for a beat. you hadn’t known david was hoisting the trophy, you were too busy laughing over a video of David from the locker room. and boy did he hate seeing you laugh with another lad.

it was one thing if it wasn’t tonight, where he was crowned a champion, he wouldn’t of cared for this. but tonight? he wanted all of you on him.

sauntering his way over to you, trophy in hand, he used two gloved fingers to raise your chin up to meet his, and he pressed his lips hard against yours.

“done toying with your new boyfriend?”

shoving david off you, you roll your eyes, “jealous much?”

“yes.”

MARTIN ØDEGAARD

he’s practically chewed the paper straw into nothingness. he’s not sure what had been so different about tonight. maybe it was you in a dress or it was that Mikel arteta’s eldest son was living on a prayer.

but martin did not enjoy what he was seeing.

the lad was only young, and he surely thought he was cool talking to a married woman in a tight black silk dress, but Martin did not find this particularly fun for him. because had it his way, arteta’s son would’ve been dead by now.

“will you just relax?” kai asked trying to bring his friend back to reality, “he’s just a teenager, probably asking when he can babysit for you.”

sending his best friend a glare, kai held his hands up defensively, “if you’re that bothered, go up there— no I’m just kidding don’t! please you’re going to embarrass yourself!”

but the words were drowned out by the blood pumping in his ears as he strode across the room to you and practically yanked your arm out of its socket pulling you into his side.

“beautiful night isn’t it?” Martin asked, a bitterness in his tone that had you looking up confused, “would’ve been beautiful if you didn’t spend half the night chatting up my wife.”

“my god!” you gasp in horror, “martin, what is wrong with you?” you pull yourself from his grip and push the Norwegian back to his seat, “honestly you just made yourself a fool!”

“jealousy is a horrible disease.” kai interjected slowly sipping his wine, “I told you not do it.”

KAI HAVERTZ

snuggled under a thick wool blanket, you slowly pull away from your boyfriends lap and towards the heat of the fire.

kai watches you out of the corner of his eye, but his attention never leaves martins as the two chat.

you’re practically inches away from the fire now, palms outstretched towards the orange and red flames to warm them up when the wood sparks up out from the pit landing on your skin.

your yelp of pain was cut off when you were pulled back by a strong arm you didn’t recognize.

looking upward at bukayo saka, he just shook his head, “this is why I hate doing white people stuff.” he mutters, making laughter rumble through you as he reaches down towards the cooler for some ice.

kai watches you and his teammate closely. though bukayo was no longer holding you, he had ice pressed into your palm with his, and tolami seemed completely unfazed by his kindness.

but kai was not liking how you looked at bukayo. sure, he was a hero and saved you from a serious burn, but your eyes glistened in a way that stirred something in him towards his teammate.

shifting away from martin now, kai scoots closer to you, “I can hold my girlfriends ice and hand now.” kai says with a spiteful tone that has you both looking at him like he spewed three eyes randomly.

“could you have asked that nicer?” you whisper once you were back in kai’s lap. he made sure you were covered in most the blanket and wrapped right into his chest.

thinking for a moment, he shakes his head, “no.”

MARTIN ZUBIMENDI

he watches you from the corner of the small pub. you’re squished between a couple of girlfriends and wives laughing at what? he wasn’t entirely sure, but whatever was said must’ve been hilarious to all of you.

sliding out of the corner and excusing himself from his teammates, and the endless rounds of shots, the full table you were at appears in full to him and he sees a group of men across from you all.

“oh Martin! come sit.” a couple of the women made way for him and without hesitation, he slips in beside you, and pulls you close to him.

“so who’s this?” Martin pointed at the guys across from you with a cheeky grin plastered across his face. if it wasn’t for the alcohol thrumming through his veins, he would’ve never been so confrontational.

cheeks flushed red not just from the alcohol, but from Martin’s words, you bury your face into shoulder. Martin was never one to speak up, but winning adrenaline must’ve boosted his confidence.

“this one’s mine—and matter of fact all of these girls belong to them.” Martin hikes his thumb towards the group of his teammates huddled up at the dj stand losing their minds.