Cristiano Ronaldo

For dishadirectioner712:

A.N. A little graphic at the end!

You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as you glanced up at the clock. Only three more hours in the hell hole you called work before you could hurry home and sleep. "(Y/N)! I don't pay you to sit around and stare at the clock all day! Get back to work!" your boss shouted, yanking you by the back of your shirt out of the staff room.

"Sorry, Mr. Asno, I promise it won't happen again," you mumbled, hurrying to the counter to grab orders that were ready to go out to the customers.

"It better not," he threatened, causing you to withhold a whimper of fear. You had bruises on your arms and stomach to prove that you didn't want to piss off your boss. His son, the "manager" of the establishment was the cause of such bruises, always doing his father's bidding like a good little soldier. You hated your boss and your job in general but you needed the money for you and your brother to survive. You were paid well enough and the tips were big usually, allowing you to make enough money to pay the bills and put food on the table. However, you were always barely scraping by.

Placing orders onto your tray, you pushed open the door and walked to tables, taking orders and delivering them as fast as you could. "(Y/N)!" your boss called harshly, making you look up from the order list you held in your hand.

"Yes, sir?" you asked nervously.

"I need you to be in charge of Mario's section as well tonight, he's busy," your boss informed you. Mario was your boss' good-for-nothing son, and also your worst nightmare. You were sure he was probably too busy getting drunk off his ass and hitting on girls at bars to come into work and do his job, a regular occurrence on night shifts. "Don't disappoint me." You quickly delivered the orders to the kitchen and tables before weaving through Mario's section.

Making your way to one of the tables, your eyes widened as you saw Cristiano Ronaldo sitting there, talking and laughing with a few other players from Real Madrid as they waited for service. Your brother absolutely idolized Cristiano and Real Madrid, and had a half ripped poster hanging in his room that he had found in the streets a year back. It was his most prized possession even though it was ripped and had water damage to several edges.

You arrived at the table, plastering a smile on your face. "Hi, I'm (Y/N) and I'll be serving you today. Can I start you guys out with some drinks?" After taking their orders, you rushed to fill them, returning quickly. Pulling out your notepad, you felt your pen fall out. Before you could even bend down to look for it, you found the pen being held out to you by none other than Ronaldo. "Thank you," you blushed, taking the pen from his hand, your fingers lightly brushing on his skin. "If you're ready to order, I can take them now," you stated.

After scribbling down the orders, you rushed to the kitchen to place them. Quickly filling out orders for other patrons, your gaze couldn't help but keep glancing out at the table where the footballers were seated, on one individual in particular. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing the table's order and walked quickly over to their table.

Setting the tray on an empty adjacent table, you quickly placed the food in front of the footballers. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" you smiled, wiping your hands on your apron.

"Just one thing," the man you recognized as Sergio Ramos say, "he wants your number but he's too scared to ask for it." You blushed as Sergio nodded towards Cristiano, who was too busy glaring holes in Sergio's head to look up at you and see your reaction. Feeling bold, you pulled out an order sheet, ripped off a clean page and scribbled your number on it.

"If you actually want my number, here it is," you stated, placing the paper on Cristiano's side of the table. Turning around, your cheeks still pink, you grabbed the tray and walked away, a small smile on your face as you heard Cristiano mutter out a thank you to Sergio. Walking into the kitchen, your smile was wiped off your face by the sight of Mario stumbling into the room.

Avoiding his gaze, you quickly placed your orders and took out the ones that were ready. Returning to the footballers' table, your natural smile returned. "Is there anything else I can get you gentlemen? Or would you just like the check?"

"Just the check, please," Cristiano spoke up, smiling up at you. You nodded, returning a few minutes later with the check in hand. Scribbling a small note in the corner, you placed it on the table before walking away. Walking back to the table, to find the footballers gone and the money left on the table, you picked up the check and the money. Looking over the check, you smiled at the sight of a reply to your earlier message. Below your message, which stated that you got off at nine, was a small note you hope Cristiano had written: I'll see you at nine then, (Y/N).

Placing the notes in your apron, you hurried to finish the night off as quickly as you could to see Cristiano as quickly as you could. It was the end of your shift and you were putting away the notepad and pen in your small locker. Walking out the back door, your eyes widened in fear as you saw Mario leaning against the wall. Walking quickly, you hoped that he wouldn't notice you, too drunk to comprehend motion. Your prayers were unanswered as Mario grabbed your arm.

You let out a cry of pain as he pushed you into the brick wall. "Where do you think you're going, bitch?" he questioned, the smell of alcohol radiating off his breath.

"Home, it's the end of my shift," you stated, your heart beating a thousand beats per minute within your chest. His eyes narrowed as he backhanded you, causing you to fall to the ground, clutching your cheek in pain.

"Did I say you could go home?" he growled, yanking you by your hair up from the ground, causing you to scream in pain again. Pinning you to the wall, you tried to push him off as he kissed you, but you were unable to knock him off. Pulling away, you screamed out "HELP" before he slammed you to the wall again. "I think you need to be taught a lesson."

Tears came to your eyes as he pulled up your skirt and tugged at your shirt. "HELP ME!" you screamed again, until he slapped you again.

"Quiet, bitch," he growled out as he unbuckled his pants. You closed your eyes, praying for someone to find you before he raped you. Suddenly, he was thrown off you. Opening your eyes, you stared at Cristiano's back as he stood protectively in front of you. Sergio was standing beside him, on the phone with the police. "Who the hell do you think you are, bub? Get in line, the bitch was mine first."

"She is not yours, and she never will be, you sick bastard," Cristiano spat. When Mario took a step forward, Cristiano clocked him, and Mario fell, unconscious, to the ground. You let out a sob as Mario fell to the ground, causing Cristiano to turn around. Without a second thought, he pulled off his jacket and handed it to you. You thanked him, pulling the large sweater around your body tightly.

"Thank you," you stuttered out as the police arrived. They took away Mario before interviewing you, Sergio, and Cristiano. An ambulance arrived to check you out and decided to take to the hospital as a precautionary measure. Cristiano helped you into the ambulance, staring up at you with concern. "Thank you, Cristiano. I don't want to think about what would have happened if you hadn't shown up."

"It was nothing," Cristiano shrugged off.

"Oh, your jacket," you remembered, about to pull off the sweater when Cristiano reached up and rebuttoned it instead.

"Keep it," he insisted, "I'm sure I'll see you around anyways to get it back." You smiled and nodded before the ambulance doors shut and you were driven away from Cristiano. After that day, you kept trying to repay Cristiano, but he refused each and every time. However, eventually he came up with a repayment option for you: saying yes when he asked you to marry him.