Ruben Dias - One Shots

City Girls Part 1

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit it off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben. 

Enjoy!

Leaving home wasn't easy, but preventing yourself from going back home was the real torture. You asked god, "Why does somthing I love bring me so much torture?" God did not answer your nightly prayers. You had come to learn that God often left your messages on read.

"Y/N, don't dribble so much, pass the ball!"

Your family pushed you to move to England. Now you're living there in a one bedroom apartment, shared with another academy girl named Ester.

"Y/N, don't run pass the defender! DON'T RUN PASS THE DEFENDER!"

Ester is from Germany, the grey weather in Manchester did not bother her. You, however, missed the white beaches of Rio de Janeiro. You missed your home country, Brazil. You missed your family, your Mãe e Pai. Your brothers and your sister. You missed them all.

"What did I tell you about dribbling passed the defenders? You can't do that in the Super League. Passing the ball to your teammates is better. Do you understand?"

You nodded your head, although coach did not make any sense. Dribbling the ball is always better. Dribbling is what Neymar does. You want to be like Neymar.

"What am I going to do with you?" Coach sighed. For him there was a clear communication barrier. Your English wasn't that good but when it came to football you understood the way: score goals and win. Isso é tudo. (That's all)

"Y/N, you wait here. There is someone I would like for you to meet."

Coach left you on the field with Manchester City's U21 stepping onto the grass, warming up ahead of their training session. You found a ball and started kicking it. One kick turned into two, two kicks turned into a swift dribbling session. Once you caught the attention of the academy boys and their head coach, they had no reason not to let you play with them.

"You see lad's, that's how I want you to do it. Glue the boll to your feet." Their head coach used you as an example. He had you running up and down the field, between cones as well as the young players. All they could do was watch and learn.

"Y/N!"

Your session with the academy boy's came to and end once coach returned to the field. He stood on the sidelines waving you over. He was accompanied by a man, tall and braud shoulders, his arms folded before him like a man in charge. He wore the Manchester City players training kit, however, you had never seen the man before.

"Y/N, meet Ruben Dias. Ruben, this is Y/N, our new star player all the way from Rio de Janeiro."

"Ótimo, outro aspirante." (Another wannabe) You chuckled.

The man raised a brow, but couldn't possibly have...

"Y/N, struggles a bit during practice." Coach said. "The languages barrier makes it hard for me to instruct her what to do. I thought if the three of us worked together she might find a good rhythm here at Manchester City."

The man beside coach didn't nod at what was being said to him. He kept his eyes on you, examining you, judging you. "I'll see what I can do." He said, his deep voice startling you.

"Great!" Coach turned to you, a braud smile on his lips. "Did you here that Y/N, if you ever need anything don't hesitate to ask Ruben. You'll find him in the main building with the first team."

Coach made you and Ruben shake hands before you were allowed to hit the showers. You returned home with wet hair since leaving it to air dry was the only way to tame your curls.

"Look at you, you made it home!" Ester, your roommate, exclaimed. She stood in the kitchen, hovering over a steaming pot. "I thought you got lost again." She invited you to taste whatever she was cooking.

"What is it?" You frowned. You leaned over to look into the pot. However, the smell flaring up your nostrils was no good.

"Rindergulasch."

"Perdão?" (Pardon?)

"Rindergulasch? It's like a beef stew."

You curled your lip, you stomach having ached for nothing.

"Come on, try it. You'll love it."

You tried it and didn't love it. However you were too tired to cook for yourself. You and Ester settled down on the couch before the TV. The pullout couch that was also your bed.

"Coach held you back after training again. What did you do now?" Ester asked.

"No dribbling." Yku said, between a spoon full of gulasch.

"I told you. It's not really how they play the game in England."

"In Germany?" You asked, to which Ester shook her head. "I don't think any team in Europe play the game like that, at least not the way they do it in Brazil."

If this was the case, perhaps England wasn't for you? You went to bed that night praying. You prayed whenever there was something on your mind, something disrupting it. "God, they don't play football here the way we play it in Brazil, the way I want to play it. Does this mean I should go back home? Was today a sign that I should move back home?"

Once again, God didn't answer. He must be too busy. You got up from the floor, where you previously sat with your hands clasped before you, elbows resting on the bed. You went to sleep that night dreaming of football and gulasch, an odd combination.