ERLING HAALAND

his face slackens. did you just call him friend? he couldn’t believe it. moving his eyes off the camera, he looks at you. you continued on like nothing happened, smiling happily into the camera while you showed off the new clothing items you bought.

“friend?” he says with evident disgust that makes your stomach drop. “I’m not your fucking friend.” he glares at you, heat spreading up and down your body under his glare.

“it’s just a prank, baby.”

“better fucking be.” he snaps, his thumb pressing the button to stop recording, “I’m about to show you how unfriendly I am. get on your knees.”

KYLIAN MBAPPE

“who?” he turns in both directions searching for this “friend” who was going to help you unbox your pr. coming up empty, he looks back at the phone camera, and points at his chest, “I’m the friend?” he asks, alarmed.

“well yeah we’re friends.” you say, turning your back to the camera and looking up at him. he’s seated on the couch behind you. his eyes are piercing into yours with anger and confusion.

“I’m your boyfriend, I’m not some casual friend.”

“babe, it’s just a prank.”

“redo the video, I’m not letting anyone see you call me friend.”

JUDE BELLINGHAM

“huh?!” he nearly jumps out of his own skin at the word. he could’ve sworn years ago he asked you to be his girlfriend, but now standing beside you in a video, he can’t help but wonder if it was all in his head.

“you know I’m your boyfriend.” jude whispered, just loud enough for the camera to pick up the words, but soft enough for you to stop what you were doing.

“but we are friends?”

scoffing at your innocence, he shakes his head, “I don’t think friends do what we do in bed—“

“jude!” you smack him with your hand, face turning bright red.

“yeah,” he points his index finger at the camera, slightly shoving you out of view, “that’s my girlfriend, we are not friends.”

JOHN STONES

looking down at the expensive silver medal wrapped around his finger, he looks up into the camera with confusion. sure, you vowed to be friends and more intimately, life partners, but there was no way in hell you were just friends.

“rewind for a sec,” he puts his hand out as a gesture of pausing, “aren’t we married?” he looks down at the gigantic diamond resting on your finger that nearly blinds him every morning in the sunrise. he sure as shit didn’t cry to you in a white dress just to be friends.

“yeah?” you ask, playing confused.

“so why the fuck am I your friend?”

laughing, you shake your head, “it’s just a prank, John.”

relief washes over him as he presses his hand to his pounding heart, “thank fuck.”

LAMINE YAMAL

he instantly picks his head up from his phone. friend? he was the only person in the room, there was no one else here beside your boyfriend.

“what did you just call me?” he asks. you were out of view from the camera, changing into one of your outfits that was an option you’d show the camera to wear to his upcoming match.

“my friend. you’re going to help me decide what to wear.”

shaking his head, he threw down his phone in frustration, “is this because I wouldn’t massage your feet?” he asks, thinking this was such a weird way to get back at him but he wouldn’t be surprised if so.

“what? no, it’s just a prank.” you laugh. walking over to him, you sit down on his lap, “though now come to think of it, you should massage my feet or else I’m posting the video.” you point to the phone that’s been recording the entire conversation.