Hi Everyone!!! This is my first fan fic so I hope you like it. Tell me if you do.... or even if you don't
*bites nails nervously*
Well, enjoy!
Lily.
Author: Lily (fball4life)
Rating: PG-13 (kinda) 
Category: Romance/Comedy/Drama
Characters:Cristiano Ronaldo, Izzie Brennan, Rio Ferdinand, Darren Fletcher and other footballers.
Length: Long story
Summary: When modest schoolteacher, Izzie Brennan meets not-so-modest Ronaldo, the fireworks are huge. Will Izzie tame Cristiano's wild ways, or will he teach her a thing or two about living on the edge? Coming into play is also Darren Fletcher- will he out-class Ronaldo in the bid for Izzie?
And the real zinger- To which of these fab footballers will Izzies heart belong.... if any?
Disclaimer: However I do not own Cristiano Ronaldo (unfortunately) or his family. I also do not own the other footballers mentioned in my story. This is just fiction, not the reality.
Authors Notes: They'll be some twists and turns in the plot- you'll learn more as we go along 
Here are some pics of what One Life To Live (Izzie's dog) is supposed to look like:
One Life as a puppy:
Why Cristiano is afraid of him-this is just to give you an idea of how tall he is, as One Life is not brown, but black:
And lastly- weird and amusing things One Life can do:
Some info about Great Danes for dog lovers:
Temperament:The Great Dane's large and imposing appearance belies its friendly nature; the breed is often referred to as a gentle giant. Great Danes are generally well-disposed toward other dogs, other non-canine pets, wild animals, and humans (including strangers and children). Some Great Danes ? as with dogs of any breed ? may have dominance issues, may be aggressive with other dogs of the same sex, or chase small animals; however, this is quite rare.
Source: Wikipedia.org.
Grade A Teacher ?
For the last time Gerard, take your shirt out of your mouth!?
The adorably wicked 3 year old regarded me with, what seemed to be much thought.
?If I count to 5 and that shirt is still in you mouth, there will be absolutely NO cake for you when we get in Old Trafford.? I narrowed my eyes in what I hoped to be a menacing expression.
?We gonna have cake, Aunty?? His big brown eyes rounded considerably.
?Peath, peath let me have cake too Aunty! I pwomith I be good, good!? He hastily removed his shirt from his mouth and frantically began smoothing it over his fat little stomach.
Before I could reassure him that his cake consumption would be safe now, I was swarmed by 29 other greedy little monsters demanding to know exactly where the cake would be and why were they not informed of the presence of the said cake.
?Where, Aunty, Where? On the field, Aunty??
?Are we having it for lunch, Aunty??
?How come you didn?t tells us before, Aunty??
?Is that what all football players eat for lunch?? I heard James ask in a hushed voice that one would use when in a church.
?Well, if they do, I don?t think I?ll be Batman when I grow up, he doesn?t get to eat anything ?cept bats.? Jack grew thoughtful. ?I?ll be a football player. And Aunty, I promise when I?m a flamous football player, I?ll give you a big bite of all my cakes.? He generously offered.
?Famous, sweetheart, not flamous.? I corrected him absent mindedly, thinking that in just a few seconds, I?d managed to distort the image of a footballer from an extremely physically fit, individual to a person who joined the sport for the sole purpose of getting all the free cake one could eat.
?Famous.? I heard Jack dutifully repeat, pulling me out of my thoughts and back into my current task, which was organizing 30 toddlers between the ages of 2 and 5 into pairs at the entrance of Old Trafford.
I, if you didn?t already guess, am a Kindergarten teacher, and today, after a bus ride from hell, was spending the day at Manchester United as part of a promotional outreach program designed to encourage children, from as young as 2, to develop, not only their football skills, but their confidence. In return, the children had to be filmed with the players at certain times during the day, so the promotion would not go unnoticed by the general public. I got to spend 3, yes 3 weeks, chasing down parents, sending reminder after reminder to sign permission slips for their kids to be filmed. Oh, the joys of being a teacher!
Not that it was all bad. In fact, I can?t picture myself doing anything else. Especially not after this opportunity to visit Old Trafford and meet the players I watched on T.V. every week.
When we finally marched inside (literally marched, Penelope, another teacher got them going by telling them ?Hup two, three, four!?) I informed the front desk of our arrival over the noise of constantly marching little feet.
?Good Morning, Anne Walter?s Kindergarten here for the promotional program,? I told the young woman behind the desk.
?Yes, of course, would you please sign in?? she responded politely, as Anne extricated herself from the children to take care of the formalities.
Just then a well dressed middle aged man came up to us and boomed, ?Anne?s Kindergarten??
?Yes sir, that?s us.? I responded with my ?teacher smile? as Penelope called it.
?Will you please follow me then??
I motioned to Anne and began to lead the children on with Penelope in the middle and Anne bringing up the rear.
The man deposed of us in what looked like some kind of recreational room and the three of us immediately had to issue a series of warnings and threats not to touch anything. The issue of the cake was again resurfaced.
?What cake?? said Penelope like an idiot. ?I didn?t know there was going to be cake.?
?There isn?t, you fool!? I hissed.
?You know they?re not going to forget that?, she went on,
?They will if you shut up!? I growled under my breath.
We got everybody to sit down in groups, and when everyone was ordered, Anne went back to the main desk to make sure everything was done thoroughly.
?Alright, everyone,? I said clapping my hands, as they began to fidget, fight each other and eat various parts of their uniform.
?Until Aunty Anne comes back, let?s sing a song. What about ?Old
MacDonald??
?Yeaaaaaaah!? was the response.
By the time we reached the ducks, I saw Penelope edging out of the room mouthing to me that she was going to find a bathroom. She hates to sing, and escapes each time we begin, leaving me to croak along with the kids.
We had just begun to sing ?Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,? (hand actions and all) when I heard the door behind me swing open and voices as people entered. I saw the kids getting distracted and some arms dropped in the imitation of twinkling stars.
Turning, the first thing I heard and saw was Cristiano Ronaldo looking at Wayne Rooney and shouting over our singing, :?Hey, I know this song!? and Rooney cracking up as if it was the joke of the century.
Our eyes met and I returned his heart stopping smile with a scowl as all the children began laughing at his joke. No doubt, most of them, if not all, didn?t get it, but none of them ever missed a chance to scream for no reason. Which is exactly what happened amidst all the laughter.
One began it, and the others caught on, in an ear-splitting chorus of screams. Needless to say, the whole Man Utd team stopped laughing and looked utterly horrified.
Standing up, I summoned all my strength, assumed my ?intimidating teacher face? and, banged the palm of my hand a nearby table, and shouted in a sharp, stern voice, ?That?s enough!?
Suddenly a dead quiet fell around the room.
?I cannot believe it! I absolutely cannot! This cannot be MY babies behaving so naughty! Look at the football players! Just look at them!?
At which point every head turned in their direction.
?They must be absolutely shocked, because they were told little boys and girls were coming to visit them, not a pack of wild animals!?
I looked around the room my wide-eyed audience and felt my firmness swaying.
?If I hear you behave this way again, the moment I do, it?s back on the bus and back to school to do work, for the rest of the day with NO playing at all. Is that clear??
?Yes, Aunty Izzie!? came the fervent reply.
?Now I want all of you to apologize to the team.?
There was a disjointed echo of, ?Sorry, team.?
?Good.?
I looked back at the guys with an apologetic smile in place and began to ask what the day?s plans were when I was interrupted by Gerard.
?Aunty, Aunty! He hath to say thorry too!?
He jabbed a chubby finger in Cristiano?s direction. ?He tharted it!? he went on in a vicious tone and began to shake the finger at him. ?You a naughty, naughty boy becauth you giving Aunty trouble!?
At least the rest of the team tried to hide their laughter this time. I noticed Rio Ferdinand doubled over and shaking uncontrollably.
?Now, Gerard, do not be rude to Mr. Ronaldo, you are not shake your finger at a grown up. Okay?? I myself had trouble controlling my laughter at the idea of Cristiano Ronaldo being put in his place by a three year old.
?Okay, Aunty. Thorry Uncle Crithy.?
I noticed a few players turn their backs to the children in an effort to hide their mirth, while Cristiano shot them dark looks.
The children call all the teachers, ?Aunty? so the school would feel more like a home environment and the men they came in contact with in school, like the football coach, and karate instructor, they called ?Uncle? which I quickly explained to Cristiano.
?As for Chrissy? Well, Gerard likes to shorten names ? he?s the one As for Chrissy? Well, Gerard likes to shorten names ? he?s the one who started calling me Izzie ? I hope you don?t mind.? I added, unable to keep the glee out of my voice. He glared at me suspiciously, as if I put Gerard up to it.
?Anyway,? I continued in my normal voice, ?I believe it?s your turn, Mr. Ronaldo.?
?My turn for what?? he spat out.
?To apologize, of course. For your contribution to the mayhem before.? I and the rest for the kids looked at him expectantly. I spotted Sir Alex Ferguson in the room, observing the proceedings with an amused expression on his face.
Cristiano stared in disbelief at the smug brunette in front of him. The woman must be mad. Him, apologize to a pack of three year olds? For what? Making a joke? If anything, it was her fault for not teaching the children basic manners like, say, not to scream the roof down in public? He gave her one of his famous scowls under which great men had trembled.
She didn?t flinch.
He leaned closer to her. ?No.? He said in a low but firm tone.
?Yes.? She countered in such a final way that he felt as though she was about to sentence him to a week of detention. At this point, he wouldn?t put it pas t her to try. She had it in for him since walked through those doors. And he had a mad urge to defy every word she said in that bossy, teacher way of hers from the moment he saw her singing with the children. He thought he could bring her down by charming the priss out of her and leave her wondering for the rest of her life what could?ve been, but scratched that after the icy glance he got when he gave her his most heart-stopping smile, at which most women would?ve swooned.
?The point of this program, Mr. Ronaldo is to give the children an example to follow ? a positive example. Not only football-wise, but life lesson-wise. So if you will?? She motioned to the now restless kids.
?Lady, if you think for one second-?
?Come on Cristiano; get over with it so we can get on with the day.?
It was Sir Alex Ferguson; he whirled around, not believing what he was hearing- the sound of Miss Priss winning the first round in the battle extraordinaire that, somehow, they both knew had only just begun.
I know its kinda long, but if you want more I'll post more.
Comments are definatley welcome
Lily
