Haaland · Y/n story by @ands

The bass thrummed through the floor, vibrating up through the soles of her heels. The VIP section of Club Origin was swimming in blue—Manchester City blue, worn by players, staff, and the few lucky fans who'd managed to talk their way past security.

Jack Grealish

slinging an arm around Phil's shoulders, a glass in his other hand See? Told you this was a good idea. Best decision I've made all week.

Phil Foden

You said that last week. And the week before.

Jack Grealish

And I've been right every time, haven't I?

Laughter rippled through the group. The energy was electric—the kind of buzz that followed a massive win. 3-1. Two goals from Erling. A solid performance from Rúben at the back. Everything had clicked.

Jack Grealish

following Erling's gaze, then grinning You know, it's rude to stare at the door like that, mate. It's not gonna open any faster.

Phil Foden

snorting into his drink Leave him alone, Jack. He's practicing his brooding look.

Erling Haaland

without turning around, a slight smile tugging at his lips I'm not brooding.

Kyle Walker

from the booth, loud enough to be heard Could've fooled me. You've been standing there for the past twenty minutes like a lost dog waiting for its owner.

Erling finally turned, his expression calm, utterly unbothered by the teasing. He took a slow sip from his glass, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make a point.

Erling Haaland

I'm waiting for someone.

Jack Grealish

raising an eyebrow Oh, we know.

Phil Foden

quietly, almost to himself We definitely know.

The others exchanged glances. Smirks. The kind of knowing look that had become familiar over the past few months—ever since they'd all started noticing the way Erling Haaland orbited one particular person.