#norway

You were a big football fan, but you were certainly even more so of your man, one of the season's top scorers. The World Cup was something you'd dreamed of for a long time, but being in that stadium, feeling the vibration of the fans, was extraordinary. The crowd was divided between Brazilians and Norwegians; everyone had fully embraced the competition, and the support had surpassed what would be considered normal for matches.

"I can't believe we made it. Ødegaard was so worried about today's match." You heard Helene's voice, the Norwegian captain's wife, louder than her usual tone because of the noise of the combined "roar" from the Norwegian fans, while Haaland beat the drum, a cultural ritual of theirs. He seemed so happy, but you knew that was also a result of relief.

"Erling too, even though he didn't want to show it as much." Was your reply as you both watched the celebration and took some pictures to capture that historic moment.

"Look, I think we can go over there now." She pointed to the pitch, seeing that it was already open for family members. Then she extended her hand to you; Helene pulled you through the crowd. Most of the audience was Brazilian, but even so, the Norwegians didn't go unnoticed with their red shirts amidst the sea of green and yellow of the opposing team's colors.

You looked for Haaland even from a distance, as there were really a lot of people. You found him greeting the opponents and hugging some of his teammates. He was so sweet and lovable, perhaps more than people imagined given his tall stature and robust build, but you liked knowing that, knowing who you had by your side, and mainly knowing that he was yours.

He found you quickly while Ødegaard was beside him, pulling Helene into a kiss. Erling pulled you into a hug, his body sweaty from the effort of the match, but with that characteristic scent only he had, which left you completely lost and in love. "We won, love." The number nine pulled you into a soft kiss, even in front of some journalists waiting to interview him.

"I think I have the best Viking by my side." You replied, wrapping your arms around his neck, and received the number nine's hands on your waist. Everything was perfect between you two.

He let out a laugh, blushing slightly as he averted his gaze toward Ødegaard, who was hugging Helene from behind. They seemed completely in love with each other, and you loved the friendship you'd built. "For a moment I thought we were going to extra time." The captain said, bringing up the subject.

"I think we played a good match. I can say I feel relieved." Haaland replied, hunching his shoulders, showing his complete physical exhaustion.

"I always knew you guys would win." You said, giving the man a soft kiss on the lips. Players passed by, interviews were about to begin. You knew your husband would soon be pulled into that sea of journalists, but you wanted to enjoy the man's arms around you a little longer.

"I love your confidence in me." He said, looking at you lovingly, and you almost forgot there were thousands of people around. It was like a connection that existed beyond anything tangible.

"I forgot how mushy you two are with each other." Helene said provocatively, bringing you both back to reality at the East Rutherford stadium, causing a series of laughs among you.

"Look who's talking, sounds like you didn't spend the whole match talking about Ødegaard." You replied to the joke, making her blush at the statement. You both knew it was true. The teasing could have continued, but Ødegaard and Haaland were pulled away to answer some interviews as two of the main players of the match.

You stood a little behind the cameras as you watched them answer some questions. The journalist was a woman you hadn't seen at the other games, but the way she stared at Haaland made you uncomfortable, and you knew exactly what that was.

"Haaland, the public wants to know how you feel knowing we're going through the phenomenon you've caused." You watched your man turn his head, confused by the journalist's question. Of course you knew what she was talking about. The "Haaland phenomenon" was all over the internet, practically everyone talking about your husband. Thousands of edits and posts, some of which you were sure insulted you just for being the wife of the man you loved.

"Phenomenon I've caused?" He asked, confused, as he waited for some clarification to come with it. It certainly wasn't one of the questions he expected, but Erling had dealt with inconvenient journalists throughout his life as a football player, with questions looking for holes for gossip pages.

"The phenomenon that apparently everyone wants Erling Haaland for themselves. It's all over the internet, with edits and posts from your fans." She explained, holding the microphone toward the tall, blond man, while fixing her hair with her other hand. For a moment you felt she was trying to adjust her cleavage to get the Norwegian's attention, and your arms crossed as you watched the scene.

Of course you didn't like that. There was the good and the bad side to situations, and it seemed like that one was completely awful. That woman was clearly trying to get your husband's attention in front of you, and there was nothing good about it. You tried to hold your temper, especially since it was an important moment for Norway itself, but there was no minimum respect, even if she couldn't see you on the other side because of the cameras in front and your position slightly to the left. It was clear to everyone that you were a couple. You watched Haaland's forehead furrow in recognition of the situation.

"So, I've seen some posts. I'm really very happy about all the affection from my fans and for my country's football. We're proud of what we're delivering during the World Cup so far." He then looked for your eyes in the corner, in the middle of the interview. "But I have a very angry woman and I don't want problems with her, folks, who by the way is waiting for me so we can be together. So, to put it better: the original is only available to her." Haaland said, letting out a light laugh with a crooked smile, lifting a weight off your shoulders. You knew he was only yours — there was nothing that could take away what you had with each other.

You saw the journalist look discreetly, following his gaze and finding you. Your posture said everything about the situation. She had been caught in her plans, and they had been completely trampled. Your sharp eyes met hers in a silent challenge, but you knew: that man was only yours, and the message had been delivered, by his words and your confident gaze.

The interview ended quickly after that moment. Everything was over, and the plan was to go back to the apartment after the team's celebration. There were some conversations, but the gathering extended into a dinner with some players. All you wanted was to be at the apartment and rest a little.

The apartment was luxurious, but with details that showed the cozy touches you'd brought on the trip. The pastel-toned furniture and the trophies on the walls showed what you lived — how everything was extraordinary in its own way. Your bedroom remained in the same style as the rest of the apartment, but it felt even cozier: books on each side of the furniture leaning against the headboard, with content you read together, slippers in the corner of the room, and the lights that night slightly dimmed.

Your body felt the exhaustion of the day, but your mind worked every moment, remembering the moments you'd experienced. You completely trusted the relationship you had, everything you'd built side by side during those years together. However, the situation still lingered in the air, like a strange need for you to reclaim that man.

You were each other's in all your lives, but maybe it was good to remember he was only yours. Your thoughts still tumultuous as you settled sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, wearing only your husband's oversized Manchester City shirt, small white shorts, and your hair tied in a messy bun done after the hot shower, as you waited for Haaland. The sound of the nearly two-meter-tall man's heavy footsteps reached your ears.

"I already fed Freyr, love." You watched Erling talk about your pet cat, which you couldn't leave at the apartment even during the trip, with a Norwegian name, as he entered the bedroom door. He turned quickly to close it, making you watch his bare back flex. You were aware of how attractive your man was, and the size difference between you made you more desirous of him, of the monstrous strength that touched you in the most loving way. "Wow, I think I'm destroyed." He affirmed, letting out a tired sigh, and went to your side of the bed, throwing himself down.

"Then I think it's better if you just rest today, Mr. 'Haaland phenomenon'." You leaned in, bringing your hand to his bare chest, and brought your lips close to whisper the last call, even though your tone was playful. Seeing him, who had his eyes closed, abruptly open one of them and look quickly at you, seeing your raised eyebrow.

"Love, I have nothing to do with that." Erling replied, sitting up on the bed and looking at you, searching for any sign of irritation in your eyes, making you meet that hypnotic greenish color that trapped you, along with that masculine scent that came from him naturally.

"I know, darling." You affirmed calmly, as you fluffed the pillows on your side of the bed, preparing to turn to the opposite side from him, knowing the sensual intentions your own thoughts were taking. "You can rest. Turn off the lights when you go to sleep." You said, closing your eyes pretending, knowing he wouldn't be able to stay silent for long. You waited a few seconds.

"Love..." He called you affectionately, softly, leaning his lips against your ear and bringing his hand to your waist. "I don't know what's worse, your silence or you screaming." Haaland murmured, and that made you hold back a laugh. Clearly you weren't irritated with him, but the fun way you handled things was always a welcome novelty. You chose to remain silent, waiting for your striker's next move.

"Were you jealous, darling?" This time, the tone was different — perhaps provocative. He knew how to provoke a reaction from you. His hands became bolder, going to your ass and giving a squeeze that made your body want to squirm, and his tongue ran over your ear, making you hold back a moan. "You know I'm only yours." He whispered.

But your next move surprised the bigger man. You quickly got up, sitting on his strong thighs, feeling your core and warm body. "And I love knowing that." You replied, pulling him into a hot kiss, your hands going to his neck and caressing his blond hair, how you loved it.

You felt Haaland's surprise by how he stood still for a few seconds, surprised by your attack, but he returned it, quickly taking control. His agile movements not only on the field, but ready for a quick reaction. His body was placed right above yours when he turned you with his strength, getting on top of you. That same skill that left you weak in the knees, but that also made you let out a small scream of surprise, which was soon dominated by his lips.

Kisses and bites went down your neck, going further down. "You wearing my shirt does so many things to me." The words came out of his mouth, disarming you, even though inside you already knew that statement. Your eyes met his in the dim light, and those irises swallowed you.

His lips guiding you as your clothes were removed, your shirt being lifted as your legs intertwined around Haaland's waist. Your core tightened as you felt the volume of his member grow between you, making you both moan. Your hands lost themselves on his bare back as your nails scratched his body, and he moved, rubbing your bodies even through the clothes.

"Erling, I need..." You said in his ear, seeing a crooked smile appear on his lips, as you felt his hands massaging and his mouth on your breasts, the sounds coming out of you before you could hold them back. But that was what Haaland wanted from you.

The kisses and tongue went down your body. You felt his strong hands caressing you, squeezing your ass, as he quickly got up and placed a pillow under your body. A warm feeling formed in the pit of your stomach. You knew what he was going to do and how skilled he was at what he did — not just on the field.

"I think I need to feel a little more of you, love." The words came out of his mouth as he kissed the inside of your thighs and two fingers slowly opened you. You felt yourself trembling in anticipation, but your spine stiffened when you felt his tongue and fingers. He found your clit easily, licking and devouring you as if you were the most delicious delicacy, his favorite sweet. He lost himself between your legs as he made you moan as if he depended on it to live — or as if he could die right there. The moment you closed your legs around his head, almost suffocating him, he didn't complain. He just wanted to feel more of you.

You threw your head back, moaning Haaland's name, as he looked up to see your reactions. He loved watching you reach your pleasure. The orgasm came like the beats of the Norwegian drum. You felt the sensitivity as he sucked everything he could from your essence.

"How could I trade this?" The number nine said, kissing your right thigh and squeezing your ass firmly, when you began to feel the anticipation of what you wanted — the excruciating desire to feel him. That pulsating member when he got up and came over you, bringing it to your entrance, teasing, making you let out the sweetest sounds. Then he brought it inside you.

Feeling the wetness of your pussy and how cozy it was to be inside you, he could never lose that — not just the moment, but what you had together, that connection. The Manchester City player brought his hands to your waist, holding you firmly, in firm and deep thrusts, those that made you roll your eyes, hitting that exact perfect spot.

"Fuck." You heard the curse escape his lips, as you smiled and pulled him into a kiss. Your tongues intertwined as in a battle you both wanted to win, but he dominated, pressing you even tighter against his body as he thrust. "I need to see you on top of me." The words made you moan as he moved you on top of him. He settled on the bed as you watched the sweat on his forehead, his blond hair loose, and in that moment you were more certain than ever that he was the love of your life.

You quickly settled on top. In all the times Haaland had asked you for that, you knew he loved seeing you on top. Your folds settled again around him, and you loved watching how he closed his eyes for a few seconds and let the sounds escape, how he allowed himself to be vulnerable for you too. Your body bounced in search of your orgasm again, feeling his hands squeezing your body and helping you when you felt your thighs get slightly tired. But you knew what he needed and what you yourself needed — he was yours.

Your orgasm came in a whirlwind as your lips met his again, swallowing the sounds that came from each other. You came first, followed by him. It was something you loved: feeling him fill you completely with his seed. You hadn't used protection for a while — it was no longer necessary, as you took care of yourselves with medication. But you didn't want to stop feeling him that way.

"Erling..." You said his name, breathless, feeling him put his head on your shoulder and give a soft kiss on your neck as confirmation that he was listening. "I love you in all our lives." You felt the smile form on his face.

"We're each other's forever, darling." He lifted his head, his blond hair messy from your movements. You loved feeling your hearts beating together, like soulmates, and those green eyes looking at you as if you were the only one in his life. You knew you were — just as he was for you.

When the quarter-final matches arrived in Miami Gardens, between England and Norway, the crowd sang. The Norwegian fans' arms made the sailing motion as your husband scored the winning goal. Then he approached the area where you were, pointed and made the symbol of your name's initial with his hands, looking at you with those loving green eyes, as if to say he would always find you. You heard Helene's voice beside you.

"Looks like you have a Viking completely in love with you, miss." She said provocatively, as was typical of your friendly relationship. But this time, you smiled without blushing. You had a man who loved you out loud.

"Of course, that man is mine." The words came with the tranquility of someone who had the certainty of the love that existed between you, with the certainty that a life side by side couldn't be anything other than the purest perfection.

Hi everyone, this is my first time writing about someone from football, so please be kind. I'm absolutely obsessed with this man and I finished writing this while watching the England vs Norway match — in this alternate universe, Norway wins and goes through to the next stage.

I got depressed just watching Haaland's sad face, but as a consolation to our hearts over this defeat, I bring you a fanfic about this delicious Viking. I hope you like it and that it comforts your hearts a little.

Feedback is always welcome and I accept requests — we need more Haaland fanfics, especially because he's perfect.