Soccer/Football Imagines

Harry Kane [~] Jealous of the French

There was a gala for the 2014/2015 Barclay's Premier League Season and all coaches/staff/players were invited. Harry Kane, your longtime boyfriend, had brought you along as his plus one. There was paparazzi everywhere and everyone was dressed to the nines. You were wearing a floor length dress which slightly showed your cleavage; which made Harry a bit more protective.

                "I'll be right back, I have to go find my coach," Harry told you. You nodded. Harry kissed your forehead quickly before beginning his search for his manager. Now alone, you decided to go grab a drink from the bar. Navigating through the mass of people in six inch heels alone annoyed you greatly. By the time you got to the bar, you were sweaty and annoyed with the mass of people behind you who couldn't seem to move to let you pass.

                "I'll have a coke," you told the bartender.

                "Coming right up," he said. You waited for the cold soda to be placed in front of you when someone came to stand beside you. He ordered an alcoholic drink as the bartender placed your coke in front of you. You muttered a thank you before going to stand at one of the nearby tables, waiting for your boyfriend to pop up.

                "What's a woman like you standing here all alone?" a voice called from behind you. You turned around to look at a familiar face.

                "You know flattery never worked on me, Giroud," you teased. You and Olivier had known each other through modelling. He had always flirted with you, but you had thought of it as harmless. He wasn't really your type anyways, sure he was attractive but you had never had feelings besides those. Harry owned your heart.

                "I know, if it did you would be on my arm right now," he winked, coming to stand beside you.

                "Ever the charmer," you replied sarcastically.

                "So where's you Tottenham boyfriend?" he asked, spitting out Tottenham like it was a dirty word.

                "He had to go find his manager for something," you replied, still scanning the crowd for your British beau. Olivier moved closer to your side.

                "He left you all alone?" he smirked, a knowing smile on his face.

                "He said he'll be right back," you retorted.

                "And how long ago was that?"

                "You know what, I don't even know why I'm still talking to you," you said to the Frenchman, walking away.

                "Oh don't be like that, (Y/N). C'mon, we used to have a lot of fun together."

                "If you call fun you staring at me during the whole photoshoot like I was a lollipop then sure. But I'd rather wait for Harry on my own thank you." A large hand grabbed your hand and you stopped. You turned to glare up at him.

                "C'mon, why don't we just go dance for a song or two, get your mind off that kid and have some fun," Olivier stated.

                "I told you I'm fine by myself, thank you."

                "She said to leave her alone mate," Harry growled from behind you, grabbing your small waist and pulling you out of Olivier's grasp. "So I suggest you leave her alone."

                "We were just talking," Giroud rolled his eyes. You got in between the two.

                "Harry, I'm fine. C'mon let's just go," you told your boyfriend.

                "He touched—"

                "—she can handle herself," Giroud replied, saying your earlier thought.

                "I wasn't talking to you," Harry growled, moving around you to go face to face with Olivier.

                "You really want to do this here?" Giroud asked. You felt a hand on your shoulder. Realizing it was Christian you didn't retaliate. A few Tottenham and Arsenal players pulled your boyfriend and Olivier out of the main room, Christian staying next to you.

                "I can stop it, oh this is all my fault," you sighed, running a hand through your hair.

                "Trust me, they're both grown men who can handle their own problems by themselves, you don't need to be in the middle of it."

                "But I'm the cause—"

                "You weren't the cause. Giroud's promiscuous ways and Harry's jealousy got the best of the both of them," Christian told you.

                "Okay . . . I need a drink," you moaned. Christian went to grab you a drink and you went to go stop the fight. The boys had dragged the two angry footballers into a back room, thankfully far away from the paparazzi who would have had a field day if they knew about it. You could hear Harry and Olivier shouting at each other.

                Picking up the skirt of your dress, you ran as fast as you could into the room. Harry was being restrained while Olivier's teammates were trying to get him to back up. "Stop for the love of God stop!" you shouted, running into the room. Everyone's head snapped to you. Harry walked over, his teammates letting him go. He quietly walked over, grabbed your hand, and led you out of the still silent room.

                "I'm sorry," he sighed as you two walked out into the main reception area again.

                "It's not your fault," you sighed. "Let's just go home." He nodded and led you back to his car. You both got it and Harry drove to your shared home. As he pulled into your driveway, he grabbed your hand silently and placed his lips to the back of hand.

                "I know that there was no need for that fight to break out but when I saw him standing that close to you the only thing on my mind was protecting you. I know you can do that by yourself but—" You leaned over and kissed him quickly.

                "Let's just forget this happened and have a bubble bath, eh?" you winked. Harry winked back and led you inside your shared home.