i love you - scott mctominay

5

I woke up in Scott's strong arms, ready for the day ahead. Media (as Ed wanted me to apologise for my 'rude actions'), training, give the team news and travel to Everton. I leant my head back onto his shoulder, trying to get back off to sleep as I finally noticed that the clock read 3:52 AM. My mind was racing about what Scott had said, but I thought it was too good to be true. He did seem to be the type of guy to be genuine; I was unsure. I attempted to block out the thoughts, except it failed miserably. Unsettled, I managed to get out of Scott's wrath and tip-toe down the stairs to grab some water. I got a glass from the cupboard and turned the tap on for something to drink. It flowed into the cup; I turned the tap off. I drank the liquid, soothing my slightly dry throat. I placed the cup on the counter before finishing the drink. I set the cup into the empty dishwasher before going back upstairs, trying my hardest not to wake a resting Scott. I entered his room and got back in his bed. I put my head on his chest and hugged his waist before drifting off myself.

"y/n, baby, babe? It's time to wake up, love. Darling," Scott whispered. "y/nnn! Wake up!" He shook me lightly.

"Do I have to get up? I'd rather be with you," I croaked, my eyes fluttering open and beginning to adjust to the light.

"I'd rather be with you too, love, but I don't want you getting in trouble with Ed. I need to get up for training too, so come on, get up."

"Nope. I'm warm. Also, you're here, so I've got reasons to stay in bed." I snuggled up to him, sighing in contentment.

"Really? That leaves me with no choice." He picked me up bridal style and walked down the stairs.

"SCOTT FRANCIS MCTOMINAY, PUT ME DOWN!" I screeched, clinging onto the back of his neck.

"Haha, not a chance!" He laughed, his grip tightening on me.

"PUT ME DOWN OTHERWISE I'LL TELL PEOPLE ABOUT US!" I exclaimed, praying he'd put me down.

"I wouldn't mind that happening!" He responded calmly. When we got to the kitchen, he put me down.

"Thank you," I replied, a little pissed off.

"You're welcome, y/n." He smiled smugly before pecking me on the lips. He walked off to make something.

"Men," I said under my breath and shook my head. I went to the bathroom to get dressed and do my hair and teeth. When I finished, I wandered back to the living room to scroll through social media. I looked back at the post I made about the 6-2 win over Leeds. I saw the comments; my heart sank.

'Shouldn't be a manager at all, stupid female thinking she can run the game.'

'Not our manager, why would we have a woman as a manager? Shocking.'

'The comment she made over OGS, he should have stayed in charge #sacky/n.'

'Stupid bitch, at least she won against a shit side. The Liverpool score will be 100000-0 to them because they're decent and have a male manager.'

'This bitch should either get back to the kitchens or my bedroom, bet she'd be decent there.'

'No wonder y/b/n cheated on her. Looks a slag and she's hanging around over 20 men. Suspicious much.'

Those were only the top liked ones. Some replies were people sticking up for me, but the hate still won the battle. I felt tears brimming my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I knew that I expected the bitterness, but this was too much. I learnt while with Casey, you have to learn to ignore the violence in a comment section. They're just trying to make something of themselves from behind a keyboard.