Latest Posts by joaosnovia - Page 4

hector fort with a sassy/bossy girlfriend who is actually a sweetheart🥹 like yes she will make something out of nothing- but she also give the softest praise when she wants to?

❦ - my favourite player.

summary:: you’re hector’s sassy girlfriend (with kindness 😛)

warnings:: it’s like not a proper fic yk? it’s just a ton of scenarios but too long for headcannons idek atp

writers note:: IM SO INCONSISTENT W POSTING I NEED TO START POSTING THESE AS SSON AS IM DONE WRITING OMDS THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR HOURS.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed

hector fort never really knew what hit him when he started dating you. you walked into his life like a storm, sharp tongue, quick comebacks, and a look that could cut through steel, but underneath that bossy, sassy exterior, you were the biggest softie he’d ever met.

he learned that early on. like the first time you two went out and he showed up three minutes late. three.

‘oh, so you thought i didn’t deserve punctuality?’ you’d said, arms crossed, hip cocked to the side. ‘is that what we’re doing now, fort?’

he scrambled with apologies, cheeks red, swearing traffic was worse than usual. you just sighed, looped your arm through his, and murmured, ‘relax, i’m messing with you. but you are paying for dessert. non-negotiable.’

he never minded paying, especially when you’d grin at him over your ice cream, that spark in your eyes softening just a bit. and god, when you’d say things like, ‘you’re lucky you’re cute,’ it did things to him he didn’t know how to explain.

but it wasn’t just the teasing. it was how you supported him, how you believed in him even when he didn’t believe in himself. after that match he’d been kicking himself over for days, missed shots, sloppy passes, you cornered him in his apartment, hands on your hips.

‘hector fort, if you don’t stop beating yourself up, i swear—’ you cut yourself off, softened. stepped closer and cupped his face, fingers warm against his skin. ‘baby, you played so well. everyone has off days. i’m proud of you.’

he melted. every damn time.

sometimes, you’d get worked up over the smallest things, like when your coffee order was wrong. ‘how hard is it to do two pumps of vanilla, not three? i’m not asking for rocket science.’ you’d huff, glance at him, and when you caught him grinning, you’d roll your eyes. ‘...whatever. wanna sip?’

he loved that you’d fight anyone and anything, but when it came to him? you handled him with care. your bossiness wasn’t mean, it was protective. you demanded respect for yourself, for him, for the people you cared about. you were fire and warmth all at once.

and hector? he’d never been happier to stand in the middle of that fire.

it was in the little things, too. the texts before his matches, ‘score a goal for me, baby. or don’t. you’re still my favorite.’ the way you’d pull him aside after a rough day and say, ‘c’mere, let me fix your hair. you look like you fought a tornado,’ fingers gentle as you smoothed back his curls.

but nothing compared to the quiet moments. like when you thought he was asleep, and you’d whisper, ‘love you, y’know? so much it’s stupid.’ like he didn’t hear you. like he didn’t tuck those words away, holding them close on the nights he missed you the most.

hector fort knew you were a lot. sassy, bossy, dramatic. but god, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. because beneath all that, you were his soft place to land. his person.

and if you wanted to make something out of nothing, throw a fit over a late pizza delivery or a movie starting five minutes past the showtime? fine. he’d let you. hell, he’d stand right beside you and complain too.

as long as, at the end of the day, he still got to be the one you smiled at like that. the one you whispered those soft, precious things to when you thought no one was listening.

because you, with all your fire and sass and sweetness, you were everything.

can you make one with Toni Fernandez, where y/n and Toni are dating but haven't seen each other for some weeks, where she surprise him at a game

❦ - playing for keeps.

summary:: after weeks on end of long distance you decide to surprise your boyfriend at one of his matches.

warnings:: uhhhh none?

writers note:: so i wrote this at 10pm lowkey half asleep otp to my friends so therefore it’s definitely not the best piece of writing ive ever done but i needed to get it finished bc i need to get as much done as i can before tomorrow!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed.

you had been counting down the days. weeks, actually. being in a long distance relationship with toni fernández wasn’t easy, especially when his football schedule kept him away for long stretches. facetime calls, endless texts, voice notes, those things helped, but nothing could replace being with him in person. waking up to his sleepy smile, the warmth of his hand in yours, the comfort of just being near him. you missed it all. every single part of him.

so when you finally arranged to fly out and surprise him at his game, your heart buzzed with excitement. you spent nights going over the plan with his cousin, guille, who promised to keep everything under wraps. you’d triple checked your flights, packed your bag three times, and now, sitting in the stands, dressed in toni’s jersey, you could hardly believe you were actually here. the roar of the crowd vibrated through your bones, but all you could focus on was the figure on the field. him.

toni looked good, he always did, but there was something about seeing him in his element that made your chest tighten with pride. hair slightly messy, focus razor sharp, the number on his back like a magnet pulling you in. you found yourself grinning every time he got near the ball, heart leaping with each pass and shot. this was his world, and you were so proud to be part of it.

halftime came and went. you debated texting him, just to hear from him, but you stopped yourself. it would ruin the surprise. instead, you let yourself get lost in the atmosphere, the chants, the energy, the way strangers cheered together like old friends. it was electric.

the final whistle blew. barcelona had won, and the stadium erupted. you watched as players hugged, jumped on each other, shared grins that stretched ear to ear. toni was in the center of it, eyes crinkled with happiness, sweat soaked and radiant with that post match glow you loved so much. he started making his way toward the tunnel, exchanging high fives with fans along the way. and then…

his eyes flickered toward your section.

for a moment, he froze. like he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right. then his gaze sharpened. his lips parted. you couldn’t hear his voice over the crowd, but you didn’t need to. you saw the way his mouth formed your name, disbelief melting into pure joy.

you waved, laughter bubbling up in your chest. his reaction was better than you’d imagined. without thinking, toni jogged over, ignoring security and the attempts to hold him back. he climbed over the barriers like a man on a mission, reaching you in seconds.

'you’re actually here,' he breathed, pulling you into his arms. his embrace was tight, grounding, everything you’d missed. he smelled like grass, sweat, and something uniquely him. your world righted itself in his hold.

'what are you doing here?' he asked, voice muffled against your hair.

'surprising you, obviously,' you said, laughing as he lifted you slightly off the ground. your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you didn’t care.

'god, i missed you,' he murmured, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours. his thumb brushed your cheek, eyes soft in a way that made your heart flip. 'this is, this is the best surprise.'

'figured you deserved a reward for the win,' you teased, though your voice cracked with emotion.

'trust me, this beats any trophy,' he grinned before leaning in to kiss you. it was soft, familiar, everything you’d been craving. the stadium noise faded, the world shrinking down to just the two of you. cameras clicked somewhere in the distance, but neither of you paid them any mind.

'missed you,' you whispered against his lips.

'missed you more,' he shot back without hesitation.

a chorus of cheers erupted from his teammates, guille’s voice cutting through; ‘finally! we’ve been keeping this secret for weeks!'

you pulled back, laughing. 'traitors, the lot of you.'

toni rolled his eyes fondly. 'come on, they’re dying to say hi.' he intertwined his fingers with yours, warmth seeping through every touch. 'you ready?'

'lead the way.'

the locker room was chaos, good-natured teasing, pats on the back, everyone welcoming you like family. someone handed you a beer, another draped an extra scarf around your shoulders. it felt like being swept into a whirlwind, but toni never let go of your hand, anchoring you through it all.

later, much later, you found yourselves back at his place. the adrenaline had worn off, replaced by quiet contentment. you lay tangled on the couch, his head resting against your shoulder, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm.

'can’t believe you really came,' he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

'worth every second,' you replied, pressing a kiss to his hair. 'besides, someone’s gotta keep you humble.'

he huffed a laugh. 'good luck with that.'

you smiled, eyes fluttering shut. the weeks apart had been hard, but right now, with him here, warm, safe, home, it all felt like a distant memory.

'best post-match gift ever,' he whispered.

you didn’t disagree.

and as the city outside buzzed with life, you let yourself drift off, heart full and content in the arms of the person you loved most.

Please make on with kenan and how he has a model gf and gets jealous when fans ship her and her co-workers saying they have more chemistry then her and kenan and likes he’s jealous when reader tells him “I have a kelvin clain shoot with __” and he’s just angry and jealous and then you can do the rest

❦ - ‘who’s jeans..?’

summary:: you’re a famous model dating kenan yildiz but he gets jealous when you’re set to model with a guy that people have been shipping you with on the internet.

warnings:: self doubt, idfk atp

writers note:: okay so i wanna get as much done before school starts as possible but still please feel free to continue requesting bc i read all of them as soon as i get them and i love them smmmm! ALSO NOTE TO MENTION THAT THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PUBLISHED LIKE 4 HOYRS AGO??

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed!

kenan never considered himself the jealous type. he trusted you, knew you loved him, and never doubted it, until the internet started saying otherwise.

it started small, fans commenting under your instagram posts, comparing you and your co stars, the models you worked with. ‘they have so much chemistry,’ they’d say. ‘they’d make such a perfect couple.’

at first, he ignored it. he knew the industry, knew how people talked. but then, the edits started popping up. tiktok after tiktok of you laughing with another model, posing together, staged moments turned into something more by eager fans. ‘this is what real chemistry looks like,’ someone commented under one. ‘way better than her and kenan.’

he never let it show. never mentioned it. but the frustration built up, simmering just beneath the surface.

and then, one night, you were lying in bed beside him, scrolling through your emails, when you spoke, casual, unaware of the storm brewing inside him.

‘i have a calvin klein shoot with gabriel next week.’

he stiffened. ‘who?’

you glanced at him, confused by his tone. ‘gabriel, why?’

he scoffed, shaking his head. ‘of course it’s him.’

you frowned. ‘kenan, what’s wrong?’

he turned to you, jaw tight. ‘do you even see what people say about you two? or do you just ignore it?’

your brows furrowed. ‘kenan, it’s just work.’

he laughed, but there was no humor in it. ‘yeah? because the internet seems to think you two should be together instead of us.’

you sighed, placing your phone down. ‘kenan, you know that’s not true.’

but he just looked away, arms crossed, jealousy burning in his chest.

you reach for his arm, fingers curling around his bicep gently, but he doesn’t relax. his jaw is still clenched, gaze fixed on a point far away, lost in his thoughts.

'kenan,' you murmur, shifting closer to him, your thigh brushing against his under the covers. 'look at me.'

he hesitates before finally meeting your eyes, and the frustration there twists something in your chest. he looks vulnerable beneath the anger, and that vulnerability makes your heart ache.

'i don’t care what they say,' you say softly, your fingers tracing slow circles on his arm. 'they don’t know us. they see a picture, a video, and think they understand. but they don’t.'

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. 'yeah, but it’s everywhere. i open my phone and it’s just… him. you. people saying you should be with him instead of me. like i’m some... placeholder.'

'your brain is lying to you,' you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. 'you’re not a placeholder. you’re it for me, kenan.'

he shakes his head, still not fully convinced, and you sigh, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. 'you know how many people tell me i’m lucky to be with you? how many girls would kill to be in my place?' you pause, lips brushing against his jaw. 'but i don’t care about them. i care about you. about us.'

he softens a bit, his hand finally coming to rest on your thigh. 'it’s just... hard not to get in my head about it.'

'i know,' you whisper. 'but next week? when i’m at that shoot? i’ll be thinking about how i get to come home to you. how no camera or photoshoot can compare to this.' you gesture between you two. 'this is real. everything else is just noise.'

his lips quirk up at the corners, and you can see the tension easing from his shoulders. 'you really have a way of shutting me up, huh?'

'one of my many talents,' you tease, grinning when he finally laughs.

he pulls you into his arms then, burying his face in your neck. 'i just hate the idea of anyone thinking they could be better for you.'

'nobody is,' you promise, threading your fingers through his hair. 'nobody even comes close.'

he hums, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. 'just... promise me you won’t fall for him when he starts flexing or whatever during that shoot.'

you snort, smacking his shoulder playfully. 'please. you really think anyone else can compete with you? have you looked in a mirror, kenan? unfair levels of handsome.'

'you’re biased,' he mumbles, though his tone is lighter now, more playful.

'yeah,' you agree, 'biased because i’m in love with you.'

he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes searching yours. 'yeah?'

'yeah,' you nod. 'so no more jealousy, okay? or at least... less of it. you’re too pretty to be frowning this much.'

he grins, finally fully relaxing. 'fine. but i’m picking you up from that shoot. just to make sure this guy knows you’re taken.'

'love when you get all possessive,' you tease, leaning in to kiss him softly. 'but seriously, you have nothing to worry about.'

'guess i just really like you or something,' he murmurs against your lips.

'good,' you smile, 'because i really like you too. even when you’re being a jealous dork.'

he laughs again, pulling you tighter against him. 'just don’t make me fight a model, okay? i can’t have that on my record.'

'no promises,' you joke, kissing him once more as the tension between you finally melts away.

You got me curious do you write long fics like 8k+ ?

yessss i’ve done it in the past too but it just takes longer todo so i try to make it shorter but yes id happily do it! xx

João req! How he would spend the readers birthday for the first time together?

❦ - yours for the day.

summary:: it’s your first birthday with joao, and he made sure to make it the best day you’ve ever had.

warnings:: uhhh none?

writers note:: i don’t think i’ve ever been so happy to see a request in my life because i had a draft vers of sum similar but i didn’t like it so bc of this i was able to give it a glow up and give it use to thank you darling! 🩵

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if you wanna be added or removed!

your birthday had never been a big deal to you. sure, you appreciated the messages, the cake, the occasional gift, but you never expected much. so when joão asked you a week before what you wanted to do, you just shrugged.

‘whatever you want, i’m happy with.’

he had frowned at that, shaking his head. ‘nah, this is your day. i want to make it special.’

you didn’t argue, just smiled and let him plan. and now, waking up to soft kisses trailing along your shoulder, you figured you’d made the right choice.

‘bom dia, meu amor,’ he murmured, voice still heavy with sleep. ‘happy birthday.’

you turned over to face him, heart melting at the sight of his messy hair and sleepy smile. ‘thank you.’

he kissed your forehead before getting up. ‘stay in bed, i’ll be right back.’

you obeyed, stretching under the covers, wondering what he was up to. moments later, he returned with a tray, fresh fruit, pastries, a cup of coffee just the way you liked it.

‘breakfast in bed?’ you teased, sitting up.

he grinned. ‘of course. only the best for my birthday girl.’

you laughed, taking a bite of a flaky croissant. ‘if this is how you do birthdays, i might start liking them more.’

joão’s eyes softened as he watched you. ‘that’s the goal.’

the morning passed lazily, the two of you tangled in each other, talking about everything and nothing. he didn’t rush you, didn’t push any plans, just let you enjoy the slow start to the day.

eventually, he pulled you up from bed. ‘come on, we’ve got places to be.’

‘where are we going?’

he smirked. ‘not telling.’

you groaned, but let him lead you outside, where his car was waiting. the drive was peaceful, his hand resting on your thigh as he hummed along to the music.

when he finally parked, you blinked in surprise. ‘joão…’

he had taken you to an art museum, one you’d mentioned in passing months ago, saying you’d love to visit someday. you hadn’t expected him to remember.

‘you said you wanted to come here,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘thought it’d be a nice way to spend the afternoon.’

your chest warmed at the thoughtfulness. ‘this is perfect.’

he smiled, grabbing your hand as you both walked inside.

you wandered through the exhibits, taking your time, soaking in the art. joão wasn’t the biggest art guy, but he listened when you talked about your favorite pieces, nodding along even when he didn’t fully get it.

at one point, he pulled you aside, his eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘if you could steal one painting and no one would ever know, which one would it be?’

you bit your lip, scanning the room before pointing to a serene landscape painting. ‘that one.’

he chuckled. ‘good choice. mine would be that weird abstract one over there.’

you laughed. ‘of course it would.’

after the museum, he took you to a cozy little restaurant, another place you’d mentioned wanting to try. the dinner was perfect, filled with laughter and quiet moments where he just looked at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen.

when you got back home, you were sure the day was over. but joão had one more surprise.

he led you to the living room, where a small box sat on the table. ‘open it.’

you shot him a look. ‘joão, you didn’t have to—’

‘just open it,’ he insisted, grinning.

rolling your eyes fondly, you lifted the lid. inside was a delicate necklace, a small charm in the shape of a star hanging from the chain.

‘because you’re my estrela,’ he murmured, fastening it around your neck.

you swallowed past the lump in your throat, turning to him. ‘this is…’

he cupped your face, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. ‘i just wanted you to know how much you mean to me. i hope today was everything you wanted.’

you smiled, pulling him into a hug. ‘it was perfect. you’re perfect.’

he chuckled, kissing your temple. ‘happy birthday, meu amor.’

and for the first time in a long time, you really, truly loved your birthday.

hey! If youre looking for requests could you write something for charles leclerc? General hcs about dating him or a drabble maybe (i would melt if it was about him as a dad with kids🫠). Either is great but no pressure at all! Xx

❦ - maman et papa.

summary:: just a simple day w your family. (IDK WTF TO PUT HERE 😭)

warnings:: none?

writers note:: so like this is really short but i hope u guys like it bc ive never written for him 😔.

ion have a taglist for f1 fics yet but lmk if you’d wanna be apart of it if i do make one!

the sound of giggles filled the leclerc household as charles lay sprawled on the floor, two tiny figures climbing over him. his youngest, a little girl with wild curls just like his, had her chubby hands planted firmly on his chest, her face scrunched up in concentration.

'i win!' she declared, sitting triumphantly on his stomach.

charles gasped dramatically, throwing his head back. 'nooo, you’re too strong for me!'

his son, older by three years and fiercely competitive, frowned. 'papa, it’s my turn!'

'alright, alright, one at a time!' charles laughed, but neither child listened. soon they were both on top of him, their small hands attempting to pin him down. he let them win, of course, lying there with a grin as their laughter echoed through the room.

a soft chuckle came from the doorway. you leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. 'having fun?'

charles looked up at you, hair tousled and cheeks flushed. 'rescue me?' he asked, but there was no real pleading in his voice, only warmth, love, and a happiness that made your chest ache in the best way.

your daughter scrambled off him and ran to you, holding her arms up. 'maman, papa’s a loser!'

charles feigned offense. 'traitor!' he called after her, but when his gaze met yours again, his expression softened. 'this... this is the best, isn’t it?'

and as you watched your little family dissolve into another round of giggles and tickle fights, you could only nod. 'yeah, it really is.'

hii, i just start read you fic, and i love them. and can you maybe make a story of y/n and Guille Fernandez, where they are old friend, but haven't seen each other for years, but she chooses to go to Barcelona to surprise him. a cute ending.

❦ - back to you.

summary:: you and guille have always been bestfriends but you had to move away. ever since then he’s all you could think about to the point you couldn’t take it anymore and you came right back.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: i’m sorry this is really rushed i really need to extend my fics bc this is more of a blurb icl but i hope you guys like it nonetheless!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed!

the plane lands with a soft jolt, and you grip the armrest, heart thumping. it’s been years. too many. your pulse quickens as you gather your bag, feet moving on autopilot through the terminal. barcelona greets you with golden warmth, the kind that sinks into your skin and settles there, familiar and comforting. the air smells the same too: sea salt, roasting chestnuts, and the faint hint of blooming jasmine wafting from somewhere beyond the airport doors.

your phone buzzes in your pocket. a text from guille lights up the screen: meeting ran late. might just crash when i get home. today’s been brutal. you smile, thumb hovering over the keyboard. should you respond? hint at what’s coming? no. that’d ruin the whole point. you tuck your phone away, nerves simmering beneath your excitement.

the cab ride is a blur of winding streets and familiar sights. balconies overflow with potted plants, and the hum of city life pulses at every corner, laughter, footsteps, distant music echoing through the alleys. barcelona feels like a memory you’re stepping back into, equal parts comfort and surprise. maybe it’s the city that’s changed. maybe it’s you. maybe it’s him.

your thoughts drift to the last time you saw him, five years ago. rushed goodbyes at an airport terminal. promises to stay in touch that slowly dissolved. guille had been a constant back then, the anchor to your storm. funny how some people hold onto a part of you, even when time stretches thin between meetings.

the driver pulls up to his building, and you thank him, nerves twisting tighter. the graffiti along the side wall is still there, same colors, same shapes. the bakery on the corner glows warmly, scent of fresh bread curling through the cool evening air. you inhale deeply, letting it wrap around you like a hug. some things never change.

you pause at his door, fingers hesitating before you knock. quick. sharp. footsteps shuffle on the other side, and then – a pause. the lock clicks. the door creaks open.

his hair’s longer, scruffier. but those eyes; the same warm blonde, widen with disbelief. ‘what the hell?’ his voice is caught somewhere between a laugh and a breathless exhale.

‘surprise,’ you grin, nerves melting beneath the weight of his gaze.

‘you’re here,’ he breathes out, blinking as if you might vanish. his hand reaches forward, fingertips brushing yours. ‘god, you should’ve told me.’

‘and ruin the surprise?’

he laughs, loud, bright, the kind that pulls at something deep in your chest. ‘get in here.’

inside, his apartment is a blend of clutter and comfort. books stacked haphazardly. a guitar propped against the couch. the place smells like coffee and cedarwood. he runs a hand through his hair, still dazed. ‘seriously, what? how long are you here for?’

‘depends,’ you shrug. ‘how much coffee can you promise me?’

hours later, you end up at the beach, shoes kicked off, waves cool against your ankles. the city hums behind you, music, conversation, life carrying on while the sky melts into a watercolor of pinks and oranges. conversation flows easily. you swap stories, trade laughter, filling the spaces where years had crept in. it’s seamless. natural. like no time passed at all.

he bends to pick up a pebble, flinging it into the surf. ‘remember that summer we got lost trying to find that lighthouse?’

‘you mean you got us lost,’ you shoot back.

‘hey, i was following your map!’

‘my map didn’t tell you to wander into someone’s backyard.’

laughter bubbles up between you, shoulders bumping. the sky deepens into indigo, stars beginning to prickle the horizon. silence settles, comfortable and warm. his gaze shifts to you, softer now. ‘i missed you,’ he says, quiet but certain.

your heart tugs, something tender and familiar unfurling. ‘yeah. me too.’

he reaches for your hand. no hesitation. fingers slip between yours, fitting like they always have. the waves hush against the shore, and for a moment, it’s just this, just him, just you.

‘so,’ he murmurs, glancing over. ‘you staying a while?’

you squeeze his hand, smile tugging at your lips. ‘yeah. i think i will.’

you walk back through winding streets bathed in amber light, shoes dangling from free hands. laughter drifts from nearby cafés. someone strums a guitar overhead, notes floating down from a balcony. the city stretches out around you; vast and intimate all at once.

later, you sit side by side on his balcony, mugs of tea warming your hands. barcelona sprawls before you, glittering under the night sky. he leans back in his chair, casting you a sidelong glance. ‘can’t believe you’re really here.’

you rest your head against his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping. ‘me neither.’

the night folds in close, warm, familiar, as if the universe is whispering: this is where you’re meant to be.

Oh and do u write angst (like real heart wrenching angst)

Sorry for bothering u have a nice day/night 💚

yes ofc i can do that darling! just lmk who u want it w and i can always write it for uuu! i saw the marc bernal & fernandez cousins enquiry and i will happily do that too love! 🤍

Hiii!! I need a bit of angst with Jude, something where he and the reader break up because he expects her to put his career first. But she also wants to have a solid career, make a name for herself, and be someone in her own right. He wants her to be like the other footballers' wives, but she isn’t that kind of person, she doesn’t have that availability, nor would she give up everything she worked for to live that way. This ends up hurting him, and he can’t understand why she wouldn’t do that for him. You can end it however you want, I honestly can’t imagine a proper ending.

Your writing is incredible, you manage to turn everything into something amazing. 🫶🏼

❦ - not enough to keep you.

summary:: you’re jude’s girlfriend and want to pursue a career of your own but he’s holding you back.

warnings:: angst, no happy ending / no ending? (you guys can make up the ending or i can make a part 2 idk?)

writers note:: this is one of the fics where i finished writing and i verbally had to say ‘oh.’ yeah jude is a cunt in this! and thank u for the lovely message at the bottom i love you all sm! 🤍

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed !

you stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your heart pounding so hard it almost drowned out jude’s voice. almost.

‘so that’s it then?’ he scoffed, running a frustrated hand through his curls. ‘you’re choosing your job over me?’

your jaw clenched. ‘no, jude. i’m choosing myself.’

his face twisted, like he couldn’t understand why those two things weren’t the same. like he couldn’t fathom a world where you wouldn’t mold yourself around his life, his schedule, his needs.

‘every other footballer’s girlfriend—’

‘don’t.’ your voice was sharp, cutting through the thick air between you. ‘i’m not them. i never was.’

he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. ‘right. you’re not. because they support their boyfriends, they’re there for them.’

‘you think i don’t support you?’ you snapped, the hurt lacing your voice making him falter for just a second. ‘jude, i have given you everything. my time, my patience, my love. but i won’t give up my dreams for you.’

his jaw tightened, frustration rolling off him in waves. ‘but why not? why can’t you just—’

‘because i’ve worked too damn hard for this!’ you cut him off, voice shaking. ‘do you know how much i’ve sacrificed to get where i am? how many nights i spent studying, how many hours i put in to prove i belong in my field? and you want me to just throw that away so i can follow you around, be at your beck and call?’

he exhaled harshly, looking away as if that would make your words hurt less.

‘it’s not like that,’ he muttered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking away the sting behind your eyes. ‘it is, jude. you want me to be someone i’m not. and that’s not fair.’

silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. his hands curled into fists at his sides, his lips pressed into a thin line. you could see the hurt in his eyes, the frustration, the love, because there was still love. that was the worst part.

but love wasn’t always enough.

you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to steady your voice. ‘i love you. but i won’t lose myself for you.’

his shoulders dropped, and for the first time, you saw the truth settle in his eyes. that this was it. that he was losing you.

and yet, he didn’t stop you when you turned around, grabbed your bag, and walked out the door.

maybe he finally understood.

or maybe he just didn’t know how to fight for you without asking you to lose yourself in the process.

do u write smut?

i’m sorry i donttt bc i’m not of age so that’s pretty much the reason behind that 😭

okay so i lowkey sound like a beg but please send me requests because i wanna write but i physically cannot come up w ideas! so if you could help out that would be really appreciated i love you guys!! 🤍

I'm craving some angsty kenan fics. So can you make a fic in which the reader is dating kenan but he always hangs out with his girl best friend. He had promised reader he'd be picking up for a premier night of her movie but he didn't show up. So later reader sees the stories of his girl bestfriend and him with some other friends having fun. Reader packs her bags and leaves for a while saying that she needs a break. Kenan rushes back home but reader is already gone. With happy ending please!

❦ - promises && rain.

summary:: it’s the night of your first movie premiere yet your supposed no1 biggest fan doesn’t attend. you attend his big matches so why doesn’t he attend your successes? he’s not an idiot so he takes it upon himself to make it up to you.

warnings:: angst ofc 😔.

writers note:: so uhm idk why this lowkey took me ages but it’s quite plain so hope you enjoy nonetheless! ALSO IVE FINISHED MY REQUESTS SO PLEASE SEND SOME IF U HAVE IDEAS BC MY CREATIVITY IS OUT.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed!

you glanced at the clock, heart sinking with every passing minute. kenan had promised he’d be there. ‘i won’t miss your premiere for the world,' he’d said, smile so convincing it had been impossible not to believe him. but the empty seat beside you at the theater said otherwise.

your phone buzzed. a flicker of hope, gone as soon as you saw the notification.

notification: instagram - leah added to their story

you shouldn’t look. you knew you shouldn’t. but your fingers moved on their own, tapping the screen. laughter spilled out, kenan, leah, and some friends at a rooftop bar. kenan grinning, arm slung over leah’s shoulder as they posed for a picture, drinks in hand. your stomach twisted. tonight had been your night. the one he promised to show up for. and instead, he was there. with her. again.

you closed the app, jaw tightening as you shoved your phone into your bag. disappointment weighed heavy on your chest, wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. it wasn’t just tonight. it was the calls he missed, the plans he forgot, the way leah always seemed to come first lately. you trusted him, but even trust had limits.

the apartment was quiet when you got home. your heels clicked against the floor as you tossed your keys on the counter. you stared at the framed photo of you and kenan on the shelf, smiling and happy, felt like a lifetime ago.

your suitcase came down from the closet with a thump. clothes were thrown in, not caring what you packed. you scribbled a note, heart pounding.

‘i need space. don’t call. don’t follow me.’

you left it on the counter, fingers hesitating just a second too long. then you turned, grabbed your bag, and walked out the door.

rain hit the windshield in steady patterns as you drove. no destination, just away. away from the hurt. away from the image of kenan laughing with someone who wasn’t you. you didn’t know how far you drove, didn’t care. eventually, you found a small motel, checked in, and curled up on the unfamiliar bed, letting exhaustion drag you under.

three days passed. your phone lit up with missed calls, texts piling up.

'please talk to me.'

'i’m sorry. i messed up.'

'where are you? just tell me you’re safe.'

you stared at the messages but never replied. your chest ached, torn between anger and sadness. between missing him and wanting to forget.

until the knock came.

you didn’t move at first, thinking it was housekeeping. but then

'please... just open the door.'

kenan’s voice. muffled, desperate. your heart lurched. no. no, you needed space.

but your feet betrayed you, carrying you to the door. you opened it and there he was. soaked from the rain, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes rimmed red. he looked like he hadn’t slept. like the weight you felt had been crushing him too.

he breathed, taking a shaky step forward. 'i know you said not to come, but... i couldn’t just let you go like that.'

'kenan—'

'please. just listen.' his voice cracked, hand tugging through his wet hair. 'i was an idiot. i thought i could make it up to you later, that you’d understand... but god, i was so wrong. i should’ve been there. i should’ve chosen you, every time. i just... didn’t think, and that’s on me.'

you swallowed hard, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. 'do you even realize how it felt? waiting for you... looking at those stories... seeing you with her?' your voice broke. 'i needed you. you promised.'

'i know,' he whispered, chest heaving. 'and i broke that promise. i’ll regret it every day if you let me. but please... give me another chance to fix this. i love you. i’m in love with you. and i can’t, i can’t lose you over my stupidity.'

the rain fell heavier around you both, soaking into your clothes, chilling your skin. for a moment, there was only silence, just your hearts beating, broken and hopeful.

and then, you stepped forward. let yourself fall into his arms. his warmth wrapped around you, holding you like you were the most important thing in the world.

'one more chance,' you whispered, voice barely audible against his chest. 'but kenan... no more broken promises.'

'never again,' he swore, pressing his lips to your temple. 'not ever.'

and somehow, standing there in the rain with him, it felt like maybe, just maybe, you’d both find your way back.

Hey! I've been thinking about this for so long, but I'm not the best person to write it. Your writing is honestly amazing, I love everything you write. ❤️

It's with Kenan, where the reader had a reservation at a restaurant, but when she arrived, it seemed like the place was completely full, and there was no table available for her reservation (she was going with a friend). On the same day, Kenan had also reserved a table with his friends. When a table finally becomes available, there's a mix-up, and the staff mistakenly assumes that the reader and Kenan are a couple.

❦ - table for 2.

summary:: you and your bestfriend book a reservation at a very high end restaurant which happens to be quite full. in the end your bestfriend leaves you for a pizza place leaving you w kenan but who knew what it would lead to.

warnings:: quite fast paced && idek if it makes sense bc i finished writing this at like 2am

writers note:: idek atp like this fic was lowkey rushed but i think it sounds good! also i love how kenan girls are requesting fics from me now i love writing for him!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed!

it was supposed to be a simple night out with a friend. you’d made the reservation two weeks in advance at the new restaurant everyone was raving about. but standing by the entrance, you knew something was off. the lobby was packed, people shifting on their feet, checking their phones, glancing toward the hostess stand.

'hi, i had a reservation for two?' you asked. your friend beside you sighed, already imagining takeout.

the hostess scanned the list, frowning. 'we’re a bit behind. a table should open soon, but… it might be a while.'

just then, a voice beside you said, 'same boat?' you turned to see a man, tall, casually dressed, a charmingly crooked smile on his face.

'yeah,' you muttered. 'reservations apparently mean nothing.'

'kenan,' he offered, sticking out a hand. you shook it, introducing yourself.

before you could say more, the hostess called, 'table for two?' both you and kenan stepped forward. awkward pause. 'oh… there's just one table left,' she said, flustered.

kenan glanced at you. 'wanna share? i’m starving.'

your stomach answered before you could. 'sure. but i’m not sharing fries.'

you laughed over menus and drinks. kenan joked about restaurant chaos, you told a story about a disastrous brunch, and conversation flowed. dessert appeared without anyone ordering it, “chef’s treat," the server winked. then came the bill, with "couple’s night discount" scrawled on it.

'we’re not…’ you started.

'thanks, we’ll take it,' kenan grinned.

outside, the cool night air wrapped around you. 'weird night,' you said.

'but fun, right?' kenan asked. 'drink next door? keep the randomness going?'

hesitation flickered, but then you smiled. 'why not?'

the bar next door was cozy, lit with soft amber lights. kenan ordered two drinks, bright, suspicious-looking things. 'trust me,' he said.

'questionable choices already,' you teased. but the first sip was surprisingly good.

banter turned to stories, childhood pranks, travel mishaps. someone started a darts game. kenan’s eyes lit up. 'you in?'

'only if you’re ready to lose.'

the game was close, playful insults flying. you won by a sliver. 'pay up,' you smirked.

'rigged,' kenan grumbled, handing over the promised drink. by midnight, you were laughing over karaoke sign ups, belting out terrible renditions of classic songs. when you stumbled out into the night, your cheeks hurt from smiling.

'best worst idea,' you said.

'glad you didn’t bail,' kenan replied. his gaze lingered, a spark of something there, but he didn’t push. 'see you around?'

'yeah,' you said. 'see you.'

texts followed. casual. easy. "darts rematch?" "only if you’re ready to lose worse." nights blurred into late conversations, drinks, inside jokes. one evening, kenan said, 'there’s this street fair tomorrow. you in?'

'aren’t we seeing too much of each other?' you teased.

'guess you’ll have to deal with it.'

the fair was chaotic and colorful. kenan insisted on winning you a ridiculous plush toy, failed three times, finally succeeding with a triumphant cheer. 'worth the humiliation,' he grinned.

you spent the day weaving through stalls, eating questionable fried foods, sharing stories you hadn’t planned to tell. by sunset, standing under string lights, kenan brushed a stray hair from your face. 'this okay?' he asked.

part of you wanted to deflect. joke. but instead, you nodded. 'yeah.'

he kissed you. warm, a little tentative. your hands found his jacket, pulling him closer. when you parted, he rested his forehead against yours. 'been wanting to do that,' he murmured.

'figured,' you whispered back.

things shifted after that, but not in a bad way. coffee dates, movie nights, shared glances that said more than words could. kenan had a habit of stealing your fries; you had a habit of pretending to be mad. weekends became a blur of spontaneous plans, hiking trails, lazy mornings, dancing in your living room to terrible playlists.

one evening, curled up on his couch, kenan asked, 'so... what are we?' his tone was light, but his gaze searched yours.

'you’re really gonna be that guy?' you teased.

'just... wanna know where we stand,' he said, softer.

'we’re... this,' you said, gesturing between you. 'whatever this is, it’s good.'

he smiled, pulling you closer. 'yeah. it is.'

days turned into weeks. it wasn’t perfect, kenan forgot plans once, you snapped during a stressful week; but apologies came easy, laughter always returned. you met his friends; they teased him mercilessly. he met yours; they warned him not to screw it up.

one lazy sunday morning, tangled in blankets, kenan murmured, 'funny how a restaurant screw up started this.'

'best mix up ever,' you said, tracing patterns on his chest.

he caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. 'glad you didn’t walk away that night.'

'glad you asked me to share a table.'

he grinned. 'felt like fate.'

'maybe it was.'

a month later, it felt like you’d known him longer. date nights became routine, but never boring. kenan found ways to surprise you: a picnic under city lights, tickets to that band you offhandedly mentioned liking. you, in turn, found yourself thinking of him in quiet moments, buying his favorite snacks, sending him memes that made you laugh.

one evening, after a dinner that involved too much wine and a dessert neither of you needed, you found yourselves on your couch. kenan played with the hem of your shirt, gaze thoughtful. 'so... think we’re officially a thing?' he asked.

you smirked. 'been acting like it.'

'yeah, but, labels and all that.'

you kissed him, slow and lingering. 'yeah, kenan. we’re a thing.'

his grin was immediate, infectious. 'good. wasn’t planning on letting you go anyway.'

'better not,' you teased.

later, as you drifted off with your head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back, you thought about that first night, the chaos, the awkwardness, the unexpected twist. funny how life worked. how one mix-up led to this.

and god, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

❦ - is this a curse..?

summary:: you and your boyfriend sneak into the abandoned end of winter wonderland and you come across this alleged fortune teller who ends up making you two do side quests.

warnings:: none?

writers note:: this concept was honestly really old bc it was originally made in bangladesh when i visited an abandoned theme park so can’t lie bc i found the draft version in my notes app so i just fixed it up fast asf but yea hope yall like it bc i found it funny. joao is giving cave diver in this so i wouldn’t be surprised if he willingly went into the nutty putty cave by choice?

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added!

‘are you sure this place isn’t haunted?' you asked, eyeing the flickering carnival sign overhead.

'only one way to find out,' joão grinned, pulling you forward. the fairgrounds were technically closed, but a gate left half open practically invited mischief. and you, against better judgment, followed him in.

'if a clown jumps out, i’m drop kicking it,' you muttered.

'noted,' he laughed, leading you past rusted rides and empty food stalls. the air smelled faintly of popcorn and nostalgia, tinged with just enough creepiness to keep you on edge.

then you saw it: an old fortune-telling booth with faded gold lettering; madame lulu sees all.

'nope,' you said immediately.

'oh, yes,’ joão countered, already slipping inside. 'come on, where’s your sense of adventure?'

'buried under common sense,' you grumbled but followed anyway.

inside, it was dark, save for a single flickering bulb overhead. a mechanical fortune teller doll stared blankly from behind the glass. joão inserted a coin, and the machine whirred to life, spitting out a card.

he read it aloud: 'seek what’s lost, find what’s true. beneath the dragon’s gaze, waits a clue.’

you stared. '...is this a scavenger hunt?'

'looks like it,' he beamed. 'let’s go!'

'joão..’

but he was already out the door, dragging you along. beneath the dragon’s gaze turned out to be an old carousel with a dragon-shaped ride. underneath it? a tiny tin box with another clue.

'who set this up?’ you whispered.

'ghosts with a sense of humor,' he shrugged.

the hunt led you across the fairgrounds, through funhouse mirrors that distorted joão’s grin into something terrifying (‘nightmare fuel,’ you’d said, laughing), past a cotton candy stand where he tried to steal an old, hardened puff ('that’s a fossil, not food’), and finally, to the ferris wheel.

'this has final boss vibes,' you said, eyeing the rusted structure.

'only one way up,' he smirked. 'race you.'

'you cheat..’ but he was already climbing into a cart, pulling you in after him.

at the top, the city stretched out beneath you, lights twinkling in the distance. joão pulled out the final clue card, reading it quietly. 'sometimes, what you seek isn’t hidden; it’s been beside you all along.’

'corny,' you teased, though your heart did a weird little flip.

he looked at you, smile softer now. 'yeah... but kind of true.'

you glanced away, the view suddenly not as distracting as the warmth of his gaze. 'so, what was the treasure?'

'guess we found it,' he murmured.

and maybe you had. maybe it was the laughter, the chase, the stolen glances. or maybe, just maybe, it was him.

'next time,' you said, breaking the moment with a grin, 'we’re doing something less dramatic.'

'no promises,' he winked.

❦ - amore a milan.

summary:: you and your STUPID boyfriend go on a spontaneous trip to crash a wedding in milan and ending up dancing under the stars.

warnings:: alcohol consumption (it shows 😒), mild trespassing and really shit decision making.

writers note:: my creativity really sparked here and shoutout to baby for being great motivation (don’t end up like chiara kids!) anyways yeah so please enjoy bc i loved writing this! ALSO SHOUTOUT TO THAT ONE DONA MARIA JOAO FIC FROM 2023 THAT WAS PEAK WRITING AND INSPO.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added

you never thought you’d be sneaking around milan at midnight with joão, but here you were, barefoot, holding your shoes in one hand, the other tugging him along as you ran down an empty street, laughter echoing off the buildings.

'we're definitely getting arrested,' you whispered between giggles.

'worth it,' joão grinned, eyes bright in the streetlights. 'best idea you've ever had.'

in your defense, you hadn’t planned on crashing a wedding. it had started with dinner, turned into drinks, and somehow joão noticed the celebration across the street, music spilling out, people dancing on the sidewalk. the next thing you knew, you were slipping into the reception, dancing like you belonged there.

'you've got moves,' you teased, recalling how he’d spun you under the fairy lights, both of you blending seamlessly with the guests.

'you weren't too bad yourself,' he shot back, brushing his hair from his face as you finally slowed down, breathless. 'especially for someone who said they can’t dance.'

'technically, i said i can’t dance well,’ you corrected. 'there’s a difference.'

he stopped, tugging you into an empty plaza. 'prove it.'

'joão, there's no music.'

'doesn’t matter.'

he placed your hands on his shoulders, his finding your waist. you rolled your eyes but let him sway you gently, the world falling quiet around you. just the two of you, under a sky littered with stars.

'you’re ridiculous,' you mumbled, but your smile betrayed you.

'you love it,' he murmured back.

you did. god, you really did.

he leaned in, forehead resting against yours. 'best night ever,' he said softly.

'we literally committed minor trespassing,' you laughed.

'adds to the charm.'

you pulled away just enough to meet his gaze. 'next time, maybe something less illegal?'

'we’ll see,' he grinned. 'no promises.'

and honestly? you didn’t mind the chaos, not when it meant moments like this.

❦ - el mar, el sol y mi corazón

summary:: a day at the beach w your man (up to you if you’re married or not) and your little son as he tries to teach him how to use a kite. (i tried to make chat gpt summarise the fic for me but they ended up calling gavi a dilf?? bros 20)

warnings:: none!

writers note:: this is shorter than it should be mainly bc it was supposed to be a joao fic but i have sum else for him. ALSO GUYS GIVE ME REQ MY BRAIN ISNT FUNCTIONING RN.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @cherryloveshs ; lmk if u wanna be added!

gavi had always loved the beach, the salty breeze, the sound of waves crashing, the warmth of the sun on his skin. but today, it wasn’t just the ocean drawing his attention; it was the sight of your son sprinting across the sand, his tiny feet kicking up clouds of grains as he chased after a colorful kite.

'papá, look!' your son called, holding up the string as the kite wobbled in the sky.

gavi grinned, jogging over to help. 'hold it steady, campeón. like this.' he crouched down, guiding his son’s small hands. together, they managed to get the kite soaring higher, both of them laughing when the wind tugged it wildly.

you watched from a beach towel, sunglasses perched on your nose and a smile tugging at your lips. seeing gavi like this, barefoot in the sand, hair tousled, eyes crinkled with joy, was something you’d never get tired of. he looked up and caught your gaze, flashing you that grin that always made your heart flip.

'hey!' he called. 'you coming or just gonna admire me from there?'

'bit of both,' you shot back with a smirk, standing to shake off the sand before joining them.

after a while, your son abandoned the kite in favor of the ocean. gavi chased after him, scooping him up just before a wave could crash into his legs. 'too fast for me, huh?' he teased, spinning him around as your son squealed with delight.

'papá, again! again!'

'third time’s the charm,' gavi grinned, twirling him once more before gently setting him down. your son ran back toward the water, kicking at the incoming waves, tiny giggles echoing over the beach.

'he’s got your energy,' you commented, slipping an arm around gavi’s waist.

'yeah, but i don’t remember being that fast at his age,' gavi chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

after splashing around until your son’s shorts were soaked and his curls clung to his forehead, you coaxed him back to the sand with the promise of snacks. he plopped down on the towel beside you, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. 'best day ever,' he declared between bites of his sandwich.

gavi ruffled his hair. 'glad you’re having fun, campeón.'

after eating, the three of you set out to build a sandcastle. your son insisted it had to have "four towers and a moat," which turned into an ambitious (and messy) endeavor. gavi got way too competitive, carefully smoothing out the castle walls, tongue poking out in concentration.

'you do know it’s just for fun, right?' you teased.

'hey, if we’re building a castle, we’re making it the best one on this beach,' gavi shot back, flicking a bit of sand at you playfully.

your son cackled. 'get mamá!'

gavi grinned devilishly. 'you heard him.' before you could protest, both of them teamed up, tossing handfuls of sand (mostly missing but making you laugh until your sides hurt).

when everyone was sufficiently sandy and the "biggest castle ever" stood proudly (if a little crooked), you lay back on the towel, sighing contentedly. gavi dropped beside you, pulling your son into the space between you both.

'tired yet?' gavi asked, brushing hair from your son’s forehead.

'nooo,' he mumbled, though his eyes betrayed him, drooping with exhaustion.

'liar,' you chuckled.

as the sun began to sink lower, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, your son fell asleep nestled against gavi’s chest, tiny fingers still clutching a stray seashell. gavi’s hand traced slow circles on his back, eyes soft.

'he’ll sleep all the way home,' you murmured.

'good. means we can blast music without him demanding his cartoons,' gavi joked, but his voice was gentle, gaze fixed on your son’s peaceful face.

you rested your head on gavi’s shoulder, your hand finding his. 'days like this...' you sighed. 'they’re the best.'

'yeah,' gavi agreed, squeezing your hand. 'nothing better.'

as the waves rolled in and the sky deepened into twilight, the three of you stayed there a little longer, sun-kissed, sand-covered, hearts full.

❦ - yours to hold.

summary:: after early morning training, gavi comes home to you absolutely exhausted, but there’s always gossip (had to sacrifice ferran for that, sorry guys… 💔)

warnings:: uhh none apart from the one sentence ferran slander if you even wanna call it that?? 😭

writers note:: the lack of gavi fics are genuinely the death of me but anyways!! also working on a joao fic so you’re welcome!? 😔😔

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @cherryloveshs ; lmk if u wanna be added!

the rain tapped steadily against the windows, a soothing rhythm that echoed through the apartment. gavi was sprawled on the couch, head resting on your lap, hair still damp from his morning training. you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair, scrolling through your phone with the other hand.

'you're ignoring me,' he mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric of your sweatshirt.

'am not,' you replied, though you were definitely only half-listening when he started rambling about some moment from practice.

'are too,' he insisted, turning his head to glance up at you. 'this is quality storytelling and you're just... scrolling.'

you laughed, setting your phone aside. 'okay, okay. i’m listening. tell me again about how ferran tripped over the cones?'

his face lit up as he recounted the incident, animated and full of gestures, and you found yourself grinning, not at the story, but at him. this was your favorite version of gavi, the one off the pitch, relaxed, messy-haired, wearing that old barça hoodie that was technically yours but had long since become his.

when he finished, you chuckled. 'poor ferran.'

'don't feel bad for him, it was hilarious,' gavi grinned, then shifted to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you down beside him. 'we should do something.'

'like what?' you murmured, nose brushing against his.

'i dunno. movie? nap? both?' he suggested, eyes half lidded with exhaustion.

'you just got back from training. pretty sure you need the nap more than a movie.'

'yeah, but i wanna spend time with you,' he mumbled, already sounding drowsy.

your heart melted a little at that. 'we are spending time together.'

he hummed, nuzzling closer. 'yeah, but... like, awake time.'

'you’re falling asleep as you say that.'

'shhh,' he whispered, lips curling into a small smile. 'just... stay.'

so you did. the rain kept falling, soft and constant, and his breathing evened out, warm against your neck. you traced lazy patterns on his back, content in the quiet. it didn’t matter that there was nothing grand or exciting about this moment. this, being here with him, in the calm of a rainy afternoon, felt perfect.

and as he held you closer, mumbling something unintelligible in his sleep, you thought: yeah, you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

let me tell you smth that I'm in love with every single fic that you write!! either they make me smile like an idiot if it's a fluff or make me cry if it's an angst (I'm sensitive a lot yes but wtv). literally you're one of the best writers out here. keep it up!! 💋💋💋

first of all thank you so much, you’re one of the reasons i’ve started writing because your work inspired me and seeing this now has made my year. thankyou endlessly bc ydek how much praise means to me!! 🤍

Hi! I'm going crazy after that Juventus vs. PSV match. Could you write something where the reader comforts Yildiz after this terrible game? He gave his all, even though he was put in during the final minutes, and his teammates seemed a bit slow.

❦ - in your arms, always.

summary:: kenan is frustrated after juventus’ tough loss against psv, feeling like he didn’t do enough despite giving his all in the final minutes. you’re there to comfort him, reminding him of his worth beyond a single match and offering the quiet support he needs. sometimes, being held is all it takes to ease the weight of disappointment.

warnings:: not really but it’s a bit angsty / comfort & mentions of self doubt.

writers note:: i saw this and instantly started writing loooord i love ts, anyways that’s so real bc i accidentally caught my reaction on camera and i was deadass going insane, anyways enjoy this fic as always!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added

the locker room was silent, the kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums and made your chest feel heavy. even through the walls, the muffled cheers of the psv fans outside the stadium stung. juventus had lost.

you stood outside the players’ tunnel, waiting. you had seen it all, how kenan was put in late, how he tried, sprinted, fought, but his teammates felt a step behind. and now, after all that effort, defeat still clung to the air like a storm cloud.

the moment he stepped out, your heart ached. his head was down, damp hair falling over his forehead, shoulders slumped under the weight of frustration. he hadn’t even taken off his jersey yet, the fabric still clinging to him from sweat and exhaustion.

‘kenan.’ your voice was soft, but it was enough to make him look up. his eyes, usually filled with that spark of determination, were dull.

he let out a heavy sigh, raking a hand through his curls before walking over to you. ‘that was terrible,’ he muttered. ‘i barely got any minutes, and even when i did… it felt like no one was on the same page.’

you reached for his hand, fingers wrapping around his, grounding him. ‘you did everything you could.’

his jaw clenched, and he pulled you into a quiet corner of the hallway, away from the noise of staff and players moving past. his grip tightened slightly, frustration evident in every part of him. ‘but it wasn't enough,’ he murmured. ‘i wanted to change the game. i wanted to..’ he exhaled sharply. ‘i should’ve done more.’

‘kenan,’ you whispered, reaching up to brush the damp strands of hair away from his forehead. ‘you barely got time to make an impact. and still, you played with your heart, you tried. i saw it. everyone watching saw it.’

his eyes met yours, searching, like he was trying to believe your words but struggling to let go of his own self-criticism. ‘it just.. it hurts,’ he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. ‘i hate feeling like this. like no matter what i do, it's not enough.’

you cupped his face gently, thumbs tracing slow circles against his skin. ‘you are enough,’ you said firmly. ‘one match doesn't change that. one loss doesn't erase all the talent, all the passion you bring to the game.’

he leaned into your touch, eyes slipping shut for a moment as if he was letting himself believe you, letting your warmth seep into the cracks frustration had left behind.

‘i just…’ he sighed again, but this time, his shoulders relaxed slightly. ‘i need to get better. i need to work harder.’

‘you will,’ you assured him. ‘but not tonight. tonight, you need to breathe. to rest. to let go, just a little.’

a small, exhausted chuckle left his lips as he shook his head. ‘you always know what to say, don't you?’

‘that’s because i know you,’ you said, squeezing his hand. ‘and i know that no matter what, you'll come back stronger. you always do.’

he exhaled, and then, without warning, he pulled you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck. his embrace was tight, desperate, like he needed you to hold him together. you wrapped your arms around him just as firmly, fingers tracing soothing patterns along his back.

‘i'm proud of you,’ you whispered into his shoulder. ‘not just for what you did tonight, but for the player, and person, you are.’

kenan didn’t say anything for a while. he just held you, grounding himself in your presence, letting the frustration slowly melt away. when he finally pulled back, there was still disappointment in his eyes, but there was something softer there too, something like hope.

‘come on,’ you said with a small smile. ‘let’s go home.’

and for the first time that night, he nodded without hesitation, lacing his fingers through yours as you walked away from the echoes of the match, into the quiet comfort of each other.

Hi! Could you write something where the reader lives in Madrid and decides to go out to a bar with some college friends? It turns out that one of her friends' boyfriends is a friend of Jude and some other Real Madrid players. That night, the reader ends up meeting him. She already knew who he was—thought he was insanely attractive—but kept that to herself. That night, they just have a great conversation, full of flirting, but in a fun and natural way. When she gets home, she's completely dazzled—not just because of how good-looking he is, but because he’s actually really interesting too. She tells her college friends everything, but also her best friend. A few days later, the reader is at her internship (I imagine something in the healthcare field because it takes up a lot of her time). That day, her best friend is visiting, but since the reader is still at work, her best friend goes out with some of their other friends. The reader, exhausted from her shift, just wants to go home and sleep. She’s already turned down any plans for the night. But once she’s finally home, lying on the couch, she gets a message from her best friend: "You won’t believe this. Your man is here." She thinks about going but tells herself it's not worth it—they haven’t talked since that night, so why would she do this? Then, another message: "Girl, you cannot let this chance slip away." She finally gives in and goes. When she gets there, she spots him but pretends she hasn’t seen him—even though she knows he’s already seen her. And that night… something happens.

I thought of something like this. Sorry if it's a bit confusing—I've been thinking about this story for days. Could you please write it? I love your writing, and I'm sure it would be amazing!

❦ - madrid, maybe?

summary:: madrid was supposed to be about school, work, and keeping your head down, not late nights, stolen glances, and jude bellingham throwing your whole plan off track. you told yourself it was nothing. then again, madrid has a way of making nothing feel like everything.

warnings:: fair amount of cussing, alcohol consumption, reader is lowkey drunk asf, mentions of work related stress, a lot of angst (yeah im sorry for that but i needed to), eventual relationship && reader being a bit of a bitch.

writers note:: so i lowkey spent a LOT of hours doing this but i think it was worth it..? but anyways also lmk if i should make another part of the joao felix series! it could be longer but yk.

tags: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the night had started like any other.    

it had taken more convincing than usual to get you out. after a long week at your internship, long shifts, barely any sleep, endless responsibilities, you had been desperate for a night in. a night where you could just exist without needing to be on all the time.  

but your friends had other plans. you never come out anymore, they’d whined. one drink. just one drink.

so here you were, tucked into a crowded bar in the heart of madrid, nursing something cold in your hands while your college friends laughed and talked around you. it wasn’t bad, really. the music was good, the energy infectious. maybe you’d needed this more than you thought.  

you had just started to relax when a familiar name was dropped into the conversation.  

‘jude’s on his way,’ your friend’s boyfriend announced casually, barely looking up from his phone.  

the name sent a ripple of recognition through the group. your friends exchanged glances, excitement flashing in their eyes. even if you weren’t a huge football fan, you weren’t oblivious. you knew who he was.  

jude bellingham.  

and, sure, you’d seen the photos, watched the clips. it was impossible to live in madrid and not know about him. but the thought of actually meeting him? it was something you had never even considered.  

still, you kept your reaction to yourself. unlike the others, you weren’t about to sit there and gush about him like he was some unattainable celebrity. he was just a guy, right?  

just a guy.  

but then he walked in.  

and, immediately, you realized how wrong you were.  

he wasn’t just a guy.

he was tall. taller than you expected, effortlessly commanding the room without even trying. he moved with an ease that was almost unfair, like he knew exactly who he was, exactly what kind of attention he drew.  

and, god, he was stupidly attractive.  

even more than in pictures, sharper jawline, softer eyes, an easy sort of confidence that was somehow both infuriating and completely magnetic.  

you forced yourself to look away, taking a sip of your drink. you were not going to be one of those girls.  

but then, of course, he ended up right next to you.  

the introductions were quick, casual. your friend’s boyfriend did most of the talking, barely noticing the way jude’s eyes lingered on you a second longer than necessary.  

and then, suddenly, it was just the two of you.  

it started simple enough. polite conversation, the usual questions. but it didn’t take long for the banter to start.  

he was quick. sharp. he caught onto things most people wouldn’t, met your sarcasm with just as much of his own. you teased him about his spanish, about the way the entire bar had turned to look at him the moment he walked in.  

‘you’re used to this, aren’t you?’ you said at one point, tipping your glass slightly toward him.  

his lips quirked. ‘what?’

‘people staring at you.’

he leaned in slightly, voice low and amused. ‘you mean you staring at me?’

you rolled your eyes, even as heat crept up your neck. ‘please. you wish.’

he laughed at that, and you knew, without a doubt, that he was enjoying this. the game of it all. the push and pull.  

the night blurred after that. conversations overlapping, hands brushing, glances held a second too long.  

by the time you got home, you were dazed. not just from the drinks, not just from the way he looked at you, but from the way he was.

you told your friends everything. and, of course, you told your best friend.  

but then days passed. and he didn’t text.  

and why would he? it was just one night. just a conversation. he probably met a dozen new people a week.  

so you let it go. focused on work. exhausted yourself to the point where there was no room to think about anything else.  

until

‘you won’t believe this. your man is here.’

you stared at the message, blinking away the exhaustion.  

‘no way.’

you were sprawled on your couch, still in your scrubs, every muscle in your body aching from the shift you had just survived.  

you weren’t going out. you had already said no to at least three different invitations tonight. you needed sleep.  

but then another message.  

‘girl, you cannot let this chance slip away.’

you exhaled slowly, phone resting on your chest.  

your best friend was right. what were the chances? what if you never ran into him again?  

before you could overthink it, you got up. changed. left.  

the bar was even more packed than last time. but you spotted him immediately.

and you knew the exact moment he saw you.  

but instead of going to him, instead of acknowledging him at all, you walked right past him.  

you could feel his eyes on you.  

and then, minutes later

‘thought you weren’t coming,’ a voice murmured in your ear.  

you turned, already biting back a smile. ‘i wasn’t.’

he raised a brow. ‘what changed?’

you shrugged, playing it cool. ‘got bored.’

he laughed, shaking his head. ‘you’re trouble, aren’t you?’

‘depends on who you ask.’

‘and if i asked you?’

you met his gaze, holding it. challenging. ‘then i’d say you’ll have to find out for yourself.’

the way his eyes darkened at that; yeah. you knew exactly where this night was heading.

the thing about madrid was that it never really slept. neither did you, apparently.  

despite the exhaustion from your shift, despite knowing you’d regret this in the morning, you were here. back in a crowded bar, back in this game of glances and teasing remarks with jude bellingham.  

he was still standing close, still watching you like he knew exactly what you were doing.  

‘so, you gonna keep pretending you don’t see me?’ he asked, tilting his head slightly.  

‘i don’t know what you’re talking about,’ you said smoothly, sipping your drink.  

his lips quirked into that stupid, knowing smirk. ‘right. just a coincidence you walked past me like i was invisible.’

‘maybe you just are invisible," you shot back.  

he let out a short laugh, shaking his head. ‘you’re funny.’

‘i know.’

he eyed you for a moment, like he was trying to figure something out. then, casually, ‘so, you do this a lot?’

‘do what?’

‘show up at bars just to mess with guys?’

‘only the ones who deserve it.’

‘good to know,’ he murmured, leaning in slightly. ‘so, what makes me one of them?’

you didn’t answer right away. mostly because his proximity was making it hard to think straight. his cologne, something warm and expensive, lingered in the air between you. it didn’t help that his voice had dropped just enough to make your stomach flip.  

‘well,’ you said finally, keeping your tone light, ‘technically, you never texted me. so, really, i should be the one messing with you.’

his brows shot up. ‘i never texted you?’

‘yeah. you had my number, didn’t use it.’

he scoffed, amused. ‘first of all, i never got your number.’

you paused. ‘wait, really?’

‘yeah. really.’

you frowned, trying to remember if that was true. the night had been a blur, but, maybe he hadn’t gotten it?  

he watched your expression shift and grinned. ‘what, you thought i ghosted you?’

‘i mean… maybe?’

he shook his head, laughing. ‘nah, see, thats crazy. you deadass thought i’d just meet you, have that conversation, and then never hit you up?’

‘i don’t know, you meet a lot of people.’

‘yeah, and i remember the interesting ones.’

you didn’t respond to that. mostly because the words did something weird to your heart. instead, you just sipped your drink again, pretending it hadn’t fazed you.  

jude, apparently, wasn’t done.  

‘you gonna give it to me now?’

‘give you what?’

‘your number.’

you smirked. ‘hmm. i don’t know. you did ignore me for, like, a week.’

he rolled his eyes. ‘you just admitted that wasn’t my fault.’

‘still hurt my feelings, though.’

‘oh, yeah? you were heartbroken?’

‘devastated,’ you said solemnly. ‘could barely function.’

‘should i make it up to you, then?’

your heart skipped, but you kept your expression neutral. ‘and how exactly do you plan on doing that?’

his gaze flickered down to your lips; quick, barely noticeable. but you noticed.

‘i could think of a few ways.’ he said lightly.  

your stomach flipped.  

you should not be enjoying this as much as you were. but it was impossible not to. because the thing about jude was that he was good at this. good at knowing exactly when to push, exactly when to pull back.  

and maybe, just maybe, you were a little bit addicted to it.  

before you could say anything else, someone called his name from across the bar. you both turned, spotting one of his friends motioning for him to come over.  

‘you leaving?’ you asked.  

he looked at his friends, then back at you. ‘not yet.’

‘oh? got something better to do?’

his smirk was slow, deliberate. ‘yeah. think i do.’

an hour passed. maybe more.  

somewhere in between the second and third drink, the two of you had drifted toward a quieter part of the bar. still close to the crowd, but just far enough that the conversation felt more… intimate.  

he asked about your internship, your plans. listened intently, even as you rambled about how exhausting it was.  

‘so, basically, you’re a superhero,’ he said when you finished.  

you laughed. ‘that’s a bit of a reach.’

‘nah,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘saving lives, barely getting sleep. sounds heroic to me.’

you rolled your eyes, but your stomach did a stupid little flip at the way he said it.  

eventually, though, the energy around you shifted. the bar had thinned out, people heading home.  

you should’ve, too. but you weren’t ready yet.  

and neither was he.  

‘wanna get out of here?’ he asked suddenly.  

you glanced up. ‘oh?’

he huffed a laugh. ‘not like that.’

‘mhmm.’

i’m serious,’ he said, grinning. ‘just, wanna walk for a bit?’

you hesitated, then shrugged. ‘sure.’

the streets of madrid at night were something else. a little quieter now, but still buzzing, still alive.  

you and jude walked side by side, the conversation lighter now. less teasing, more comfortable.  

‘so, what do you actually do for fun?’ he asked at one point.  

you scoffed. ‘fun? don’t know her.’

‘nah, see, i knew you were gonna say that.’

‘because it’s true!’

he shook his head. ‘i don’t believe it. you have to have some kind of guilty pleasure.’

you thought for a second. ‘hmm. okay. maybe i watch reality tv when i’m too exhausted to do anything else.’

he gasped dramatically. ‘no way.’

‘shut up.’

‘what show?’

‘not telling you.’

‘nah, you have to tell me now.’

you pursed your lips. ‘love island.’

his eyes widened, like he’d just uncovered the greatest secret in the world.  

‘i knew you were toxic,’ he said, laughing.  

‘excuse me?’

‘nah, it makes sense now.’

‘okay, and what’s your guilty pleasure, then?’

he thought for a moment. ‘i still watch kids' cartoons sometimes.’

‘no way.’

‘swear down.’

you squinted at him. ‘you’re lying.’

‘i swear.’

you were still laughing when you realized you had stopped walking.  

and then you realized something else.  

you were standing too close.  

you weren’t sure who had moved first. all you knew was that his hand was brushing against yours now, his gaze a little softer, his voice a little lower.  

and suddenly, the air between you wasn’t just charged; it was buzzing.

you swallowed.  

‘so,’ he murmured, ‘if i asked you again…’

‘asked me what?’ you said, playing dumb.  

his lips quirked.  

‘for your number.’

your heart was racing now. but you still pretended to think about it.  

then, finally

‘guess you have to make it up to me somehow first.’

he grinned. ‘oh, yeah?’

‘yeah.’

‘and how exactly do you want me to do that?’

you smiled. ‘figure it out.’

judging by the look in his eyes, he already had an idea.

‘so, if i asked you again… for your number?’

‘guess you have to make it up to me somehow first.’

‘oh, yeah? and how exactly do you want me to do that?’

you had smiled, told him to figure it out.

and, of course, jude bellingham took that as a challenge.

hours earlier.  

the second you’d said the words, his grin had turned slow, deliberate.  

‘figure it out, huh?’

you shrugged, pretending to be unaffected by the way his gaze lingered on your lips before flickering back up to your eyes.  

‘if you really want my number, yeah,’ you said lightly. ‘gonna have to earn it.’

he let out a short laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you.  

‘alright,’ he said finally. ‘challenge accepted.’

the next hour had been a game.

you weren’t sure when the shift had happened; when the teasing had become this.

he had been trying to impress you before, sure. but now? now, jude was determined.

he had leaned into the flirting, turned up the charm to levels that should have been illegal.

he started making you laugh on purpose, telling ridiculous stories about his teammates, doing impressions, playing into every little quirk he had already picked up about you.  

when you rolled your eyes, he’d smirk and say, ‘there she goes again.’

when you crossed your arms, pretending to be unimpressed, he’d lean in and murmur, ‘c’mon, you’re dying to give me your number.’

he kept finding excuses to touch you; a hand on your back as you walked through the street, a brush of fingers when you reached for something at the same time. light touches, nothing overwhelming, but just enough to keep your heart racing.  

but you weren’t going to make it easy.  

you pushed back, met his teasing with just as much of your own. made him laugh, made him work for it.  

at one point, he sighed dramatically, tilting his head back.  

‘this is actually crazy,’ he said. ‘most girls would’ve given in by now.’

‘good thing i’m not most girls,’ you shot back.  

he looked at you then, something unreadable flickering in his expression.  

‘yeah,’ he said after a second. ‘guess you’re not.’

eventually, you ended up at a small plaza, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the cobblestone. it was late really late, but neither of you seemed to care.  

the energy between you had settled. still charged, but warmer now.  

‘so,’ he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, ‘are you gonna give me anything to work with here?’

‘what do you mean?’

‘like, a hint at least?’

‘for what?’

‘how to win your number,’ he said, exasperated.  

you laughed, tilting your head slightly. ‘hmm. i don’t know…’

he groaned. ‘you’re killing me.’

‘good.’

he stared at you for a second, then suddenly straightened.  

‘alright,’ he said. ‘i’ve got it.’

‘got what?’

‘the way i’m getting your number.’

you raised a brow. ‘oh?’

‘yeah,’ he said confidently. ‘gimme a second.’

before you could ask what he was doing, he pulled out his phone.  

you watched, confused, as he opened instagram, typed something, and handed it to you.  

his profile was already open.  

follow me.

you let out a short laugh. ‘wow. smooth.’

‘look, i could go old school and ask for your number directly,’ he said, grinning. ‘but i know you’d make me jump through five more hoops before you actually gave it to me.’

‘true,’ you admitted.  

‘so, this is my compromise.’ he nodded toward the screen. ‘follow me. then i’ll dm you. then you have to respond.’

you hummed, pretending to think about it.  

then, finally, you hit follow.

jude immediately took his phone back, typing something quickly.  

a second later, yours buzzed.  

new dm from judebellingham:

does this mean i win?

you grinned, typing back.  

hmm. undecided.

another message.  

fairs. i’ll keep working on it, then.

now, lying in bed, you scrolled back through the messages, rereading them even though you knew them by heart.  

it was stupid, really. how giddy this was making you.  

you told yourself it didn’t mean anything. that you were just enjoying the attention, that this was just harmless flirting.  

but then; 

another message.

judebellingham: you up?

your breath caught.  

it was so late. did he just get home, too? was he still thinking about tonight?  

you hesitated for a second.  

then,

maybe. why?

jude: just wondering if i was the only one still thinking about tonight.

your heart stopped.

you stared at the message for a long time, suddenly very aware of how fast your pulse was racing.  

he was good so good at this.  

and, worst of all, 

you had no idea what the hell you were going to do about it.

you weren’t answering.  

jude had sent the message almost fifteen minutes ago, and your reply still hadn’t come through.  

he wasn’t the type to overthink things—not usually. but something about this was different. something about you had thrown him completely off his game.  

he ran a hand through his hair, staring at the chat. maybe he shouldn’t have sent that last message. maybe it had been too much. too soon.  

but, fuck, he hadn’t been able to help himself.  

the night had ended, he had gone home, but his mind was still buzzing. still replaying everything, the teasing, the way your eyes had lit up when you laughed, the way you’d refused to make things easy for him.  

he had met plenty of people in madrid. plenty of girls who had flirted with him, who had been interested.  

but none of them had felt like this.

and that? that was messing with him.  

his phone buzzed.  

should i lie or tell the truth?

his heart kicked up, and suddenly, he felt stupid for even doubting that you’d respond.  

jude: always the truth

he watched the little typing bubble pop up, then disappear.  

then pop up again.  

then disappear.  

he smirked. you were hesitating. interesting.

finally;

then yeah. i’m thinking about it too.

the next morning, you woke up to another message.  

judebellingham: coffee later?

you stared at the words, your stomach flipping.  

it was a bad idea.  

you knew this.  

your life was too busy, your schedule too packed. you barely had time for yourself, let alone whatever the hell this thing with jude was becoming.  

not to mention, he was him.

jude bellingham, the biggest star in madrid. constantly surrounded by cameras, by attention.  

it was so easy to imagine how this would play out.  

a few fun conversations. some flirting. maybe even something more.  

and then?  

he’d get bored. move on.  

because that’s how these things went.  

so you should say no.  

you should.

but…

what time?

you almost backed out twice.

first, when you realized you had been standing in front of your closet for ten whole minutes, overthinking what to wear.  

it wasn’t a date. just coffee. casual. nothing serious.  

so why were you acting like it meant something?  

but then, 

you walked in.  

and jude was already there, waiting for you.  

the second he spotted you, his whole face lit up.  

‘thought you were gonna stand me up,’ he said, grinning.  

you rolled your eyes, slipping into the seat across from him. ‘tempting, but no.’

he smirked. ‘you were thinking about it, though.’

‘maybe.’

he leaned back slightly, still watching you with that look.

like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.  

you ignored the way your pulse picked up, reaching for the menu.  

‘so,’ you said, acting casual, ‘are we actually getting coffee, or did you just want an excuse to see me again?’

his smirk deepened.  

‘bit of both, to be honest.’

you were so fucked.  

an hour passed. then another.  

coffee turned into brunch. brunch turned into you two still sitting there, talking like you hadn’t just met a few days ago.  

and that was the problem.

it should have been surface level. light, fun, meaningless.  

but then he was asking about your family, about your childhood.  

then he was telling you about birmingham, about moving away when he was just a kid.  

then he was making you laugh again, and it wasn’t just because he was funny; it was because he was genuinely interesting.

by the time the bill came, you realised,

you didn’t want to leave.  

which was exactly why you had to.  

you pulled out your wallet, but jude was already handing over his card.  

‘i got it,’ he said.  

‘i can pay for my own coffee, you know.’

‘yeah, but i invited you.’

‘i can still’

‘let me, yeah?’

you hesitated.  

he was looking at you again, and there was something in his expression that made it really hard to argue.  

so you just sighed. ‘fine.’

he grinned. ‘thank you.’

you rolled your eyes, standing up. ‘you’re annoying.’

‘and yet, here you are, still spending time with me.’

you shook your head, walking toward the door. he followed.  

‘so,’ he said, once you were outside. ‘when am i seeing you again?’

you exhaled slowly, staring at the ground.  

‘jude’

‘don’t do that,’ he said, suddenly serious.  

‘do what?’

‘shut me out before this even goes anywhere.’

your stomach twisted. ‘i’m not.’

‘you are.’

you bit your lip, glancing up at him.  

the easygoing smirk was gone. in its place was something softer, something real.  

‘i get it,’ he said. ‘you’re busy. you’ve got a life, your job, your own shit to deal with.’

he ran a hand through his curls, exhaling.  

‘but if you’re pulling back because you think this is just some game to me.’ he met your gaze. ‘it’s not.’

your heart stuttered.  

you wanted to believe him.  

‘we barely know each other,’ you pointed out.  

‘so let’s change that,’ he said simply.  

like it was that easy.  

and maybe, for him, it was.  

but for you?  

you had spent so long keeping people at a distance. protecting yourself from the inevitable disappointment of expecting too much.  

so why did part of you want to take the risk?  

‘just think about it,’ he murmured, stepping back. ‘yeah?’

you swallowed. nodded.  

he studied you for a second longer, like he wanted to say something else.  

then he turned, walking away.  

you stood there for a long time after he left, staring at the spot where he’d been.  

thinking about his words.  

thinking about how, for the first time in a long time.

you wanted to let someone in.

you were avoiding him.  

not entirely; you still answered his texts, still sent the occasional dry joke in response to his voice notes. but you weren’t making any effort beyond that.  

no more late night messages. no more lingering conversations. no more seeing him in person.  

and jude wasn’t stupid. he noticed.  

you’re dodging me. 

the message came in late one night, right as you were finishing up work.  

you stared at your phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard.  

he wasn’t wrong.  

but admitting that would mean confronting why.

so you typed something else instead.  

i’m busy.

a minute passed.  

then, 

jude: bullshit.

your stomach twisted.  

you sighed, shoving your phone in your pocket before you could answer.  

but it didn’t matter.  

because, for the rest of the night, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.  

the truth was, it was easier this way.  

the second you had walked away from that café, you had known, this thing with jude was dangerous.  

because you liked him.  

more than you should.  

and that was bad.

because, at the end of the day, he was still him.

jude bellingham, the football star. the golden boy.  

he was fun, charming, ridiculously attractive.  

but he was also someone with a whole life you didn’t belong in. a world of flashing cameras and public scrutiny, of schedules packed with travel and endless commitments.  

and you?  

you barely had time to breathe most days.  

you had your job, your responsibilities, your own life.  

it didn’t make sense to let yourself fall for him.  

so you had started pulling back.  

distancing yourself before you could get in too deep.  

before you could get hurt.

but clearly, he wasn’t going to let you do that quietly.  

the next time you saw him, it wasn’t planned.  

you were out with friends, trying to pretend like everything was normal, like your mind wasn’t elsewhere.

and then, 

there he was.  

across the bar, laughing with a group of people you didn’t recognize.  

your stomach flipped.  

and, just as quickly; his eyes found yours.  

you froze.  

he didn’t.  

his smile faded, and before you could even think about running, he was already moving toward you.  

‘hey,’ he said when he reached you.  

you swallowed. ‘hey.’

he studied you for a second, then nodded toward the door.  

‘let’s talk.’

you hesitated.  

‘jude.’

‘don’t.’ his voice was low, firm. ‘don’t make excuses. just come outside.’

you exhaled slowly.  

you could say no.  

you should say no.  

but you didn’t.  

outside, the air was cold, but the tension between you was colder.

you crossed your arms. ‘what do you want me to say?’

jude let out a short, humorless laugh.  

‘oh, i don’t know,’ he said. ‘maybe an actual explanation?’

‘i told you, i’ve been..’

‘busy. yeah. i got that.’

he shook his head, jaw tight.  

‘but we both know that’s not really the problem, is it?’

you looked away.  

‘you’re pushing me away,’ he continued, his voice quieter now. ‘and i don’t get it.’

your throat felt tight.  

‘i just…’ you exhaled. ‘i don’t think this is a good idea.’

he frowned. ‘why not?’

you hesitated.  

because you were scared.  

because you didn’t trust yourself with this.  

because you knew that if you let him in, you’d fall hard.

but saying any of that out loud felt impossible.  

so instead, you went for the easiest excuse.  

‘because i don’t have time for this.’

jude scoffed, running a hand through his curls.  

‘that’s such bullshit,’ he muttered.  

‘it’s not,’ you said, forcing your voice to stay even. ‘i barely have time for myself, jude. i can’t add this..’ you gestured between you, ‘whatever this is on top of everything else.’

his expression darkened.  

‘so what?’ he said. ‘you’re just gonna pretend like none of this ever happened? like that night meant nothing?’

your chest ached.  

‘it was fun,’ you said, voice hollow. ‘but that’s all it was.’

jude stared at you.  

and for the first time since you met him, he looked hurt 

you forced yourself to hold his gaze, to keep your expression neutral, even though every part of you was screaming at you to fix it.

but you couldn’t.  

this was for the best.  

finally, he nodded, stepping back.  

‘right,’ he said quietly. ‘got it.’

the space between you felt huge.

he glanced away, let out a slow exhale.  

then, without another word, he walked away. and you let him. but as you stood there, watching him disappear into the night, you wondered if you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.  

the worst part wasn’t the fight.  

it was after.

the silence.  

the space where his texts used to be. the absence of his name lighting up your phone late at night. the realization that you had gotten used to having him around, in your inbox, in your thoughts, in you.

and now?  

nothing.  

days passed. you threw yourself into work, into school, into anything that would keep your mind from wandering back to him.  

but it didn’t matter.  

jude was everywhere.  

in the headlines, on tv, on the back of strangers’ jerseys in the street.  

in the playlist you hadn’t been able to listen to since that night.  

in the memories that crept in during quiet moments, the way he laughed, the warmth of his gaze, the way he looked at you like he actually saw you.

and worse, the last thing he had said.  

‘got it.’

so final. so done.

but then, 

friday night.

you weren’t supposed to go out.  

you had planned to stay in, avoid the possibility of running into him again.  

but your best friend had shown up at your apartment, refusing to take no for an answer.  

‘you’ve been moping,’ she said flatly. ‘it’s getting sad.’

you glared. ‘i am not..’

‘you are,’ she cut in. ‘and honestly? i can’t watch you wallow for another weekend.’

so now, here you were.  

back at the same bar where everything had started.  

part of you hoped he wouldn’t be there.  

part of you hoped he would.

and then, 

of course.  

he was.  

you spotted him across the room, surrounded by friends, smiling at something someone said.  

your heart clenched.  

god, you missed that smile.  

but then, his eyes lifted.  

found yours.  

and just like that, everything came rushing back.

the tension. the longing. the regret.

but you looked away first.  

because you didn’t know how to fix this.

and maybe he didn’t want you to.  

fifteen minutes later, you were at the bar, nursing a drink you didn’t really want, trying to not look for him in the crowd.  

so when someone stepped up beside you, you didn’t even glance over.  

‘we really gonna keep doing this?’

your breath caught.  

slowly, you turned.  

jude.  

closer than you expected.  

his eyes searched yours, something unreadable in his expression.  

‘look,’ you started, but he shook his head.  

‘no,’ he said. ‘my turn.’

you blinked.  

‘i don’t get you,’ he went on, voice low. ‘one minute, you’re there. with me. and the next, you’re gone.’

guilt twisted in your chest.  

‘i…’

‘i know you’re scared,’ he said, softer now. ‘i get it. i do.’

you looked away, but his fingers brushed your wrist, grounding you.  

‘but you don’t get to pull me in and then push me away like i don’t fucking matter,’ he said.  

your throat tightened.  

‘that’s not..’

‘it is,’ he said quietly. ‘that’s what it feels like.’

silence stretched between you.  

you swallowed hard. ‘i thought i was protecting myself.’

he exhaled, shaking his head. ‘from what me?’

‘from getting hurt,’ you whispered.  

‘and how’s that working out for you?’ he shot back. ‘because, newsflash, i’m hurt too.’ 

that stopped you.  

he let the words sink in, then sighed.  

‘look,’ he said, softer. ‘i don’t know what this is. i don’t know where it’s going.’

his gaze held yours. steady. certain.  

‘but i know i like you. i know i haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met.’

your breath hitched.  

‘and yeah,’ he added, ‘maybe it’s messy. maybe it’s complicated. but damn, i think it’s worth figuring out.’ 

your walls, carefully built, meticulously maintained, cracked.  

because fuck.

you wanted this.  

wanted him.

so you let out a shaky laugh, blinking back the sting in your eyes.  

‘you’re really bad at letting things go, huh?’

he smiled, a little broken, a little hopeful.  

‘not when it comes to you.’

that did it.  

you reached for him, and he met you halfway.  

pulling you in.  

warm, solid, familiar.

‘i’m scared,’ you admitted against his chest.  

‘yeah,’ he murmured into your hair. ‘me too.’

you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.  

‘but maybe,’ you said, ‘we figure it out anyway?’

his smile was soft. real.

‘yeah,’ he said. ‘i’d like that.’

and when he kissed you, 

it didn’t feel like an ending.  

it felt like finally.

if someone had told you a few months ago that you’d be here, lying on jude’s couch, your legs draped over his lap while a movie played in the background (completely ignored), you would’ve laughed.  

or panicked.  

probably both.  

but now?  

now it just felt right.

‘you’re not even watching,’ jude mumbled, poking your side.  

you glanced up from your phone. ‘neither are you.’

he smirked. ‘yeah, but i invited you over to watch it. not scroll through tiktoks.’

‘you didn’t invite me over for the movie.’ you shot back, raising a brow.  

he grinned. ‘fair enough.’

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.  

this was how it had been lately, easy. familiar. like you had slipped into some rhythm you didn’t even realize you’d wanted.  

the initial whirlwind of everything, the confusion, the push and pull, had settled.  

now there were lazy mornings when you stayed over, his hoodie swallowing you whole as you sipped coffee in his kitchen.  

there were texts throughout the day, some sweet, some stupid, all of them making you smile.  

there were nights like this, where nothing was planned and yet it was perfect.

‘hey.’ his voice pulled you out of your thoughts. ‘what’s going on in that head of yours?’

you shrugged. ‘just… thinking.’

‘dangerous,’ he teased, but there was a softness in his gaze.  

you hesitated, then admitted, ‘i didn’t think it’d be like this.’

his brow furrowed. ‘like what?’

‘easy,’ you said quietly. ‘i thought it’d be more… complicated.’

he tilted his head. ‘it was complicated. you made it complicated.’

‘hey.’ you swatted his arm, but he caught your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.  

‘but,’ he added, squeezing gently, ‘it’s not anymore.’

and that was the thing, you had stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. stopped holding yourself back.  

because he hadn’t left.  

hadn’t pulled away when things got hard. hadn’t treated you like some passing thing.  

he was here.

with you.  

choosing you.  

every single day.  

your chest warmed at the thought.  

‘what?’ jude asked, eyes narrowing playfully. ‘you’re looking at me like you’re about to say something sappy.’

you snorted. ‘don’t flatter yourself.’

he grinned. ‘too late.’

but then, quieter, he added, ‘you are happy, right?’

the vulnerability in his voice made your heart squeeze.  

so you shifted, leaning in until your forehead rested against his.  

‘yeah,’ you whispered. ‘i am.’

his smile softened. ‘good. ’cause i really, really, like you.’

you grinned. ‘yeah? i hadn’t noticed.’ 

he rolled his eyes but kissed you anyway, slow and unhurried.  

and in that moment, with his hand in yours and his lips against yours, you thought.

yeah. this was it.  

october is diabolical (i feel u bro 💔.)

anyways this definitely makes up for the obscure amount of time that took this is yummy it fed me good lord. está es una de las mejores cosas que he leído, DIOS MIOS tu talento está más allá de este mundo😍😍

Hey can you do one for Alejandro Balde where he's childhood best friends with reader. Some angst where other girls seem to come into the picture with his fame but he finds out how Y/N feels and reassures her!

✮ Don’t Shy Away - Alejandro Balde

alejandro balde x childhood bsf!fem!reader

sy: you become painfully overwhelmed by how your childhood bsf becomes swarmed and smitten with his own fangirls, as you become increasingly scared to admit your love.

a/n: this has terribly been in my drafts since oct and im actually ashamed for leaving it so long. i hope this makes up for it though <3

warnings: not really tbf.

the sky hung low with a suffocating greyness, and the wind nipped at your skin as you lingered on the outskirts of the pitch.

he’d asked you to be here.

you bounced on the heels of your feet, your fingers nervously etching across the leather purse in your grasp, scratching at the silk. you felt out of place, like you didn’t belong here, but then again—he asked you to be here.

the laughter reached you first, light and airy, floating across the pitch like the first taunt of a fight you couldn’t win.

there he was. alejandro—swirled up in the centre of a foreign crowd. instead, lavishing with women in head to toe with glam. their eyes sparkled with admiration, their voices like birdsongs when they exclaimed out his name.

that smile; the same one you knew like the back of your hand.

but him? he only basked in it. basked in the attention that he received, oblivious to the way it shredded you, piece by piece—leaving raw edges where your heart used to be whole.

the boy who once made pinky promises in the glow of streetlights, who used to scold you for crying over scraped knees and share his dreams with the kind of quiet fervor that only children possess—he felt so far away now.

fame clung to him like a second skin, and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to peel it back and find the alejandro you knew.

“this is so stupid,” you curse yourself silently, your eyes magnate down to your shoes. let this be the last time you let yourself be humiliated.

you fumble with the watch on your wrist, clocking down the minutes that had you foolishly stood here, waiting. twenty-nine minutes.

it was pointless in waiting here still; you weren’t going to watch the clock tick to thirty as your self respect was slipping.

“hey,” balde called out, jogging to catch up to you, “your leaving so soon?”

when you didn’t turn around, he stopped you in your tracks by kneading his hand into your shoulder blade to prevent you from moving.

“alright party pooper, what’s with the rush? do you not wanna talk to me tonight or something?” he laughed, that same, familiar sense of humour creeping through in every worse moment.

with his help, you spun round, and instantly locked with his eyes. “what’s with the pout chica? im here, now, talk to me.”

“what’s there to talk about ale?” you inquire, brushing his hand from your shoulder. “you asked me to be here.”

“and you came,” alejandro pointed out with a grin, as if that alone made it better. “so i was thinking, if you wanted to stop by tonight.”

the way he said it, like he hadn’t just spent the last half hour entertaining other women whilst you stood around like an idiot.

you wanted to say yes. you wanted to just forget the hurt and walk away with him. but after tonight, after feeling like an insignificant background character, you didn’t have the strength to go.

“i’m just not feeling it today,” you whispered, avoiding eye contact. “sorry.”

“c’mon,” giving you playful jabs to your arm, “what’s the gloom? when do you ever reject me?”

there was a pause of silence. before you sighed, locking your hands behind your back. “it’s nothing.”

his grin faltered, his eyes examining your body language. “nada, no, see—now i know your lying.”

“just let it go ale.” you said, stepping back.

his teasing dropped almost instantly. “your upset? mad? definitely not happy,” he muttered the final words under his breath. “nervous?”

you grumble, crossing your arms. “seriously?”

he tilted his head slightly, examining your face carefully. “are you on your perio—?”

“no balde!” you finally snapped, which made his head instantly recoil back up. you couldn’t keep the anger from breaking through, even if you tried. “are you not aware of what you’ve just done?”

his expression stays blank, and if anything, he looks more shocked at your outburst than he does concerned. and that, more than anything, made the fire in you burn hotter.

“so your gonna stand there, mute, and act oblivious?!” you eventually screech, having no regard for who was listening. “as you always do i expect.”

“qué i don’t—”

“no you never do. do you ale?” you spit, as he pushes you into a more secluded area underneath the tunnel; away from prying eyes.

“look,” he sighs softly, “can you explain it to me rather than screaming in my face?”

“you dont deserve my explanation,” you mutter, feeling the sting of tears at the brim of your eyes.

your throat burned, the fury dissolving, leaving only a raw, aching pain in its wake. if you didn’t leave now, it would only make you cry, and you couldn’t let that happen.

not after defending yourself so promptly.

you turned away again, ready to walk off before you lost whatever shred of dignity you had left. but ale was too quick, wrapping his hand around you wrist before you had the chance.

“why do you keep pushing me away?” ale’s voice dropped an octave low, almost shameful. “im just trying to help you.”

with a slow twist back around, you met his gaze with an expression he could quite decipher.

the conflict of hurt and frustration clear in your eyes made his grip tighten, feeling the desperation in his fingers.

“maybe i don’t need your help!” you exclaim, the contradicting nature between his words and actions making your eyes burn. “not now.”

“what do you mean not now?”

“isn’t it clear?” you shake your head, “can you really not see it… how i truly feel?”

“how you feel? no i didn’t even recog—”

you scoffed, pulling your wrist away. “exactly.”

balde exhaled through his nose, raking his fingers through his hair. “what’s this about huh? you could of just told me you didn’t wanna come over y/n.”

“its not that,” you huff, staring at your shoes.

“then what is it?” alejandro crouches slightly to look at your face, bringing his thumb under your chin.

when you didn’t reply to him, he carried on.

“please, whatever it is, i would rather us talk it out than you hating me for something i’ve done.” and this time, his tone carried sincerity.

not like before, where it was all light and jovial, like he thought everything was just a joke. but instead, something that said he truly cared.

biting the inside of your cheek, you tried to keep your composure. “you spent thirty minutes surrounded by them..”

the guilt in his eyes were immediate; the footballers shoulders dropped in regret.

“..and i stood there like a fool, waiting for you.”

you shuffled your feet against the concrete, finally bringing up the courage to look him in the eyes. “i didn’t have to come.”

“i know,” he replied—weak.

the words echoed in the tranquil air, closing in on you both as neither of you had the fight to say anything.

“i messed up,” he finally admitted, swallowing the lump in his throat. “i should’ve been with you. i should’ve seen you standing there.”

almost as a reflex, you squeezed your eyes shut in hopes to savour this moment if it wasn’t real. you wanted to trust that it was real.

“hey, im being serious y/n. for the first time ever.”

your lips parted in protest, your heart racing at the proximity as he pressed his forehead against yours.

the closeness, the way his breath fanned over your skin—it was everything you’d spent years yearning for, but never daring to confront.

“trust me when i say this,” he pulled back, brushing a stray hair from your face, “i don’t want anybody else.”

you gulped thickly, his words playing strings with your heart. why did he wait for so long to say it?

“you say that now,” you whisper, defeated. “but what about tomorrow? or even weeks from now, when your surrounded by them?”

his brows furrowed, eyes dark with something unreadable. then, as if making a decision right then and there, he took your hands in his.

“there won’t be a next time,” he promised, his thumbs tracing soft circles over your skin. “i don’t care about them, nor the attention, the cameras, the noise—it all means nothing without you.”

the words hit you harder than you expected, knocking the air from your lungs.

“i love you, nena. not them. not this life. you.”

your lips trembled, he was already pulling you in, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“i know i don’t deserve an answer right now,” he murmured against your skin. “but let me prove it to you, okay?”

a shuddered breath left you, your fingers gripping the front of his jacket as if letting go would mean losing him again.

“¿me dejarás?” (will you let me?)

you didn’t know what the future would hold, but for now, in this moment, you needed to let go of the fear. to let yourself trust him, fully.

“yeah,” you nodded, falling into the urge to rest your chin on his shoulder—your resolve finally melting.

balde chuckled, relaxedly. “that means you forgive me right?”

“i don’t know, your on a test for the rest of this week.” you hummed mockingly, although really, it wasn’t too bad of an idea.

alejandro shook his head disbelievingly, but deep down, he was just relieved that he had his best friend back, or even after this—something more than just friends.

the scrape on your knee had been healed, the wounds of the past, and he was the one who healed it.

OH MY GOD DIOS MIOS 🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸

you never fail bro dafuk i wish to have ur talent omds what on earth

Pedri supporting his girlfriend who plays for Barca femeni after she gets hurt at her game?

✮ The Real Winner - Pedri González

pedri gonzalez x barçafemeni!reader

sy: after a sustained head injury, all you need is the comfort (and slight lesson) from your boyfriend to ease you back to normal.

a/n: i did this as a more realistic approach and added our current female players as teammates & i probably yapped too much for this but still (i need to make my fics longer)

⚠️ i have literally only just come across a similar fic to what ive written, but genuinely ive had this in my drafts for around a week now, but still had to finish off the end. so please, there is no copyright intended as i wrote this before the other authors fic, but no communication was present & i wasn’t going to scrap this all away after spending so long writing.

warnings: not really .

“hmph!”

being fouled—again.

after being hurled to the curb by madrid’s opposing player, you swiftly bounce back onto the heels of your feet.

your socks had been rolled down to yours ankles in uneven lengths, your shin pads slipping from their placed position and your jersey covered in dirt and dust.

“c’mon ref, your not gonna call that?!” aitana calls out, whilst alexia—team captain—rushes over to complain.

vicky rushes over to you, with a disconcerting look. “¿oye estas bien? you took a pretty nasty fall there.” (are you okay?).

“yes—yeah im fine,” you grumble hoarsely, narrowing your eyes at the madrid players on the other side of the pitch that were pointing fingers and snickering in your direction.

she gives you a pat on the back, as the ref blows the whistle. you snap your head around, and he’s holding up a yellow card.

“en serio?!” alexia protests, “all im saying is that you made a mistake!”

with a huff, the blonde struts off towards you and vicky, pushing her slidden armband higher up her arm.

“yellow card huh?” vicky says, shaking her head. putellas tuts, hollering to the remainder of your team over.

“i swear they don’t even try to hide the bias, it happens every single game,” kiera argues, jogging over as they all nod in agreement.

salma shuffles in closer, encouraging a group huddle. “look we aren’t going to win this by complaining—we need a strategy.”

“sí but what? they’re brutal tonight sal,” aitana replies. “we’ve tried every strategy in the book so far, and y/ns injured.”

they all glance over to you, their star striker, covered head to toe in cuts and bruises. not to mention, the amount of grass’ turf that clung to your skin was intolerable.

“i’m not injured,” you say firmly, knotting your brows in defence despite the unbearable sting creeping up your ankle.

your teammates don’t look convinced, but they don’t push further. the referee is already growing impatient, gesturing for the game to continue.

alexia claps her hands, “alright team, ten coraje.”

you all disburse, as you limp your way back to your position. to be honest, your ankle was throbbing and with every step it felt like your bone could crack.

everyone’s back in their places, as the whistle blows again. your quick to sprint in impulse, but as soon as you do, you wince in pain.

“joder,” you curse, watching as the ball slips away from you, and to the madrid forward.

your vision wavers as you try to recover, but the pain shoots up to your leg. you swiftly glance at your teammates for help, but they’re all too focused on the game to notice.

unbeknownst to you, pedri is up in the stands—silent and worried. he’s accompanied by ferran and gavi, who equally have the most bewildered expressions too.

“i know this story,” ferran interrupts quietly, “and it doesn’t end well.”

pedri doesn’t say anything, but instead his eyes are fixed on you, with your slow and painful movements. he’s noticed how sluggish you’ve become since the last hit, and even though you tried to look sharper, it wasn’t possible.

“she needs to ask to get subbed off or something. this isn’t doing her or the team any good.” gavi slices through the deafening silence, who’s on the edge of his seat.

it’s true. since the whistle blew, you had lost the ball a good three times, which you could of easily intercepted or won back.

“she won’t,” pedri finally speaks. “she’s too stubborn for that, even if it’s breaking her.”

“y/n! get your head in the game!” hansen orders, giving you a harsh nudge. “we can’t afford to lose this game because you cant focus.”

“i’m trying okay? but my ankle just—”

“you told us you weren’t injured.” she shrugs, running over to the midfield where the hustle was.

unfortunately, she was right but you were too stubborn to confess, but besides there’s no chance you could give up now.

you sigh, rubbing the sweat from your forehead with the back of your arm. you didn’t want to admit it but you were costing them the game; after failed promises you couldn’t live up to.

minutes pass by and you find yourself on your rivals side of the pitch, with the ball close to madrids net, and you find this as a perfect opportunity to shoot it into the goal.

with a sharpe exhale, you push every ounce of power you still have into a jump, as you watch the ball loft into the air.

as you jump, ready to head straight into the net—

—so does madrids defender.

your heads collide mid-air, a stark snap ringing throughout your ears before a wave of pain explodes across your skull.

everything happens so fast. the world tilts and spins and before you know it, your plunged into darkness.

the impact sends you pelting down onto the pitch, rolling onto your side with a loud groan.

the entirety of your vision blurs, a shrill ringing noise overwhelming all of your senses that make you clutch your forehead in pain.

the referee—for once—makes a sensible decision and immediately blows the whistle as your teammates sprint their way over.

each one of them have worry painted all over their faces, trying try their best to comfort you.

“shit—y/n, you shouldn’t of done that,” kiera’s the first to speak, cutting through the haze. but all you can manage is a grunt in response.

“move, move, give her space.” alexia instructs, dropping to her knees besides you.

“i don’t need help,” you mutter, attempting to sit up but failing when another sneer throb shoots through your skull. “it was just a small blow.”

“nada, nada.. you need to get checked out,” vicky says firmly. she also kneels down to the floor, keeping her hand on shoulder to keep you down.

in the stands, pedri continues watching in horror, his hands curled into fists from the first second of contact.

“what’s going on? i can’t see,” pablo nudges ferran for an answer.

“maybe it’s because you’re too short,” ferran snorts and begins laughing. gavi scoffs theatrically, giving the man a forceful push.

pedri shoots them both daggers, clearly not amused. “now’s not the time for jokes hermano.”

“right, sorry,” they both nod and look back to the pitch. from their view, all they can see is that your laying flat on the floor whilst the rest of barça femení are surrounding you.

back on the pitch, the medics are already making their way over but your still trying to argue your case.

you sigh for the third time, “honestly, i’m fine—i can keep playing hermana.”

“this won’t prove that your any tougher,” aitana declares, with an innocence to her tone. “we already know you are, stop fighting it y/n.”

your lips part in objection, until a second pulse of ache pierces through your skull, making you sway.

the medics already have cloths to your temple, thermometers down your throat and pills in their grasps. but once the thermometer beeps, the decisions made.

“that’s it your coming off,” one announces, helping you to your feet. alexia and vicky also help you up, giving you small hugs for support.

salma gives you a kiss of encouragement to your head as your guided off, your head still heavy.

the crowd roars with fury, and you can feel the puncture of the fans’ eyes analysing every single twitch of movement you made.

. . .

the medics room is cold, eerie and in general not a place you’d like to be in. the fan above was moving slowly, almost painfully.

you were lying on the examination table, blinking slowly as you tried to adjust to the light; every sound echoed in your head like its bouncing off cave walls.

“keep your head still please,” the doctor instructs, shining a dainty flashlight into your eyes.

you wince, groaning at the intensity. “ugh do i have to?”

“yes.” he deadpans, moving to the other eye. “you’ve got a grade two concussion, and a potential ankle sprain.”

“what does that mean?” you ask him seriously, as your brain still hasn’t caught up to speed.

“it’s nothing too dangerous. you will just require plenty of rest, and unfortunately, you will miss quite a few m—”

he’s about to continue when he’s interrupted by a loud opening burst of the door. “y/n!”

pedri’s voice makes you finally twist, as he’s at your side within seconds. his hands straightaway reach for your own, warm against your cold fingers.

“what the hell was that?” he demands, his brows furrowed in deep concern. “you could of cracked your skull open and you still wanted to keep playing?”

his tone is sharp, but his touch is gentle even as they cup your face, evenly smoothing over your clammy forehead.

you blink up at him, struggling to focus.

“since when have there been two of you amore?” you ask, completely disregarding his question.

pedri’s frown deepens. “yeah your definitely concussed.”

your smile is lazy and carefree, poking his cheek when he turns to the doctor in ambition for your medical results.

“you’re cute when your angry,” you giggle, your mindset with him a polar opposite of before. your boyfriend doesn’t answer you, so you insist.

“pedrii,” you whine, pulling on the strings of his hoodie to pull him closer. “aren’t you listening to me?”

he snaps out of conversation with the doctor abruptly, his face now so close to yours that you can feel the tickle of his breath. “sí carino, i’m listening.”

“what did i just say then?” you grouse, annoyed.

he hums, obviously not having the briefest idea of what you actually said. “something about the lights?”

“no silly, i said, you’re cute when your angry.”

pedri sighs, “this isn’t funny y/n, you could of gotten seriously hurt.”

“kind of is,” you mumble, the corner of your mouth curving into a vague smile. “your all worked up over me.”

“yeah and earn myself a heart attack,” he lets out with a small chuckle, giving a quick peck to the tip of your nose.

his hands shift up to cradle your jaw, his thumbs brushing delicately over your cheekbones. “you genuinely did scare the shit out of me though,” he admits, his tone softer now. “please never do that to me again.”

“ill try,” you say flatly, shrugging your shoulders.

“no you won’t try, you will.” he corrects, sweeping lost hairs from your face. “i’m never letting you do that to me again.”

“threatening me isn’t going to work pedro,” you snort airly.

“if i say that i won’t let you kiss me until you stop being so reckless, then will it work?” he counters, with a smug smirk.

your eyes widen slightly, “you wouldn’t.”

pedri tilts his head, his smile unwavering. “try me.”

you dramatically sigh, but continue fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. “that’s so cruel, especially when i’m hurt.”

“call it what you want amor,” he grins, “but if it stops you from terrifying the hell out of me then i’ll do it.”

you huff, looking away, but pedri isn’t having it. he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, right where the impact was worst. then another, softer this time. and another. his lips trail over every tender spot—your forehead, the side of your head, down to your cheek, as if his kisses alone could erase the pain.

“promise me that you’ll be more careful,” he murmurs between kisses. “please.”

even though you weren’t fully reassured of yourself, rather you simply forget or don’t entirely listen, you do owe him a favour.

for everything.

“i promise,” you whisper, voice small.

pedri still doesn’t look fully convinced, but he holds you tighter anyway, his lips pressing against your hair one more time—one final reminder that, no matter what, he’d always be there to put you back together.

I’ve read your hector fort headcanons and I thought the canon with him being trained to take pictures of reader was really cute!!

Maybe a fic based around that? Thank you

✮ Digital Picturesque - Hector Fort

hector fort x fem!reader

sy: with nobody else available, but in desperate need, you suffice in letting your seriously inexperienced boyfriend snap pictures of you, who claims to be an expert.

a/n: IM FINALLY GETTING THROUGH THE REQS so thanks for ur patience ! (let’s ignore how this is a reupload btw)

warnings: noope.

“hector, no. you have to do it like this,” a sigh escaped your lips as you approached him, fixing his hands so he could hold the camera correctly. “and don't forget the right lighting.”

it was that time of year again—your annual spring beach shoot, a tradition as essential as the first mango sorbet of the season.

the sundress you wore, white and airy, clung to every curve of your body, as the soft tropical wind kissed your skin. the beach was alive with a harmony of the afternoon waves and distant laughter but right now, it was just you, a camera and your boyfriend who swore he knew what he was doing.

hector tilted his head, an easy smile grazing his lips. “you know it's impossible to get a bad picture of you.”

your boyfriend reached out, his palm resting on the lower part of your back to guide you closer to him, a laugh bubbling from your throat. “flattery isn't going to make you a better photographer, hector.”

“maybe not, but it doesn’t hurt.” he said with all seriousness, his hazel eyes catching the sunlight.

his fingers lingered for a second, tracing the edge of your dress where it cut out an oval on your back, just enough for you to feel the soft pressure.

you fought to keep your focus, nudging his arm lightly before stepping back into position. “just take the picture, would you?”

you stepped back onto the warm shoreline, your hands tangling up into your hair as the wind hit them, whilst your bare feet sunk into the damp sand.

the sunset turned the ocean into a molten gold backdrop—if only you prayed your self proclaimed expert photographer could capture it right.

but of course, hector was taking forever.

you shifted your gaze to him, just in time to catch him peeking over the lens—not even trying to hide the fact he was staring.

“what? do i have something on my face?” you lift up your hand, smearing it across your cheek.

“no just—” he shrugged, changing the focus.

hector pursed his lips into a thin line, like he wanted to say something else but instead lifted the camera again, adjusting the angle like you’d shown him. but you could still see the hesitation in his eyes. “what if i mess it up?”

“then i'll make you take a hundred more until you get it right,” you teased. “we’ve already tried it.”

he chuckled, finally snapping a few pictures. “i think that's just an excuse to spend more time with me.”

you scoffed, but the way your lips twitched betrayed you. “just show me the pictures, romeo.”

the brunette lowered the digital camera as you peered around his shoulder. your eyes scanned over the screen, scrolling through the shots. to your surprise, some were… worthy.

“okay, not terrible,” you admitted, tilting the camera slightly. “this one's actually kinda cute.”

the spaniard took great pride from your acknowledgment, as he turned his head around to you, with a small indignant grin. “see? told you it's impossible to get a bad picture of you.”

“you're so cheesy, you know? how did i let you come along with me?” you replied with flushed cheeks.

“but you’re the one still standing here,” he mused, his lips brushing the top of your head in a tender kiss. it was quick—almost like a habit—but it made your heart flutter nonetheless. “which means you secretly love it. but mostly me.”

you huffed, shoving the device back into his hands. “just don't mess up next time.”

“whatever you say, bonita.”

hector adjusted the shot again, taking his time—way too much time. he squinted at the screen like he was composing some masterpiece, his tongue peeking out in full concentration before finally pressing the shutter.

“you know, overthinking it won't magically make you better.” you pointed out and let your stance relax.

he glanced up with a cocky sneer. “oh, but natural talent will.”

you rolled your eyes. “bold of you to assume you have that.”

he ignored the insult, stepping closer and flipping the screen around. “alright, go ahead. tell me this one isn't perfect.”

you looked at the screen, tilting your head. okay, maybe it was decent. the angle wasn’t awful, the lighting was actually flattering and—fine—you didn’t look like you'd just rolled out of bed.

you hummed, pretending to consider. “it's… fine.”

hector scoffed, placing a hand on his chest like you’d just deeply offended him. “fine? this is art.”

you bit back a smile. “if by ‘art,’ you mean ‘passable at best,’ then sure.”

“your so stubborn,” he grinned, shaking his head, “you just don't wanna admit i'm getting good. better than berta, even.”

“when you do get good, i'll let you know,” you countered, taking the camera from him. “until then, we keep practicing.”

he let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his hair. “if i didn’t know any better, i'd think you just like bossing me around.”

“and if you were any smarter, you’d stop complaining and start paying attention.” you taunted, setting your hands on your hips for the next shot.

hector zoomed in further using the camera again, the faded sunlight painting him saffron as he aimed the lens.

“oh, don’t worry, amor,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “i’m paying very, very close attention.”

and all of a sudden i’m a man!! i love this sm 😍

lotus ✧.* joao felix

: ̗̀➛ pairing: joao felix x male!hockeyplayer!reader : ̗̀➛ warnings: i don't watch hockey!! i have no idea what i'm doing but i like this idea and i looked into it a bit so i hope it makes sence at least a little : ̗̀➛ smau

yourusername ✔︎

liked by joaofelix79, kyliejenner, oscarpiastri, sabrinacarpenter and 4.5m others

yourusername is he a wag? or am i? or is it us both?

view all 1.4m comments

user1 who is he talking about??

user2 his bf but we don't know who it is yet

user3 you are both wags for eachother

user4 i thought only non athletes can be wags tho

user5 he's joking. he know that lmaoo

user6 kylie what are you doing here?? 🤔

user7 she's been stalking him for months

kyliejenner 😍

user8 girl did not read the caption lmaoo

joaofelix79 ✔︎

liked by pedroneto_30, pedri, chelseafc, colepalmer10, yourusername and 1.3m others

joaofelix79 great game! moving forward

view all 985k comments

user1 i watched the game 😍 loved it

user2 miss you in barca

colepalmer10 💪💪

user3 y/n in the likes??

user4 so what? when joao is in his likes no one says anything

user5 who's y/n

user3 he's a swiss hockey player who has a bf but doesn't wanna tell who it is so we have to find out ourselves

user5 well if he doesn't wanna tell respect that tf

user6 ik you and y/n have something joao

user7 no they don't what the hell

user8 if joao and y/n are actually dating i love the diffrence in their captions

user9 that's why i think they aren't bc their posts are so diffrent

yourusername ✔︎

liked by swissicehockeyfederation, joaofelix79, kyliejenner, nhl and 3.6m others

yourusername we’re just really good at hiding in plain sight

view all 2.1m comments

user1 y/n please!! i can't anymore i need to know

user2 let him have his fun he'll get bored eventually and tell us

user3 i think i know who it is

user4 who?? oml i wanna know so bad

user3 joao felix, he's a football player i think

user5 please tell us

user6 joao in the likes again!!

user7 he always likes but doesn't comment

kyliejenner stormi misses you 🥰

user8 kylie please you're embarassing yourself

user9 what is happening 😭😭

enews ✔︎

liked by 56k users

enews joao felix and y/n l/n were spotted kissing outside an airport restaurant in switzerland 😳 it’s looking like the whole ‘instagram’ thing might’ve been a bit of a cover-up after all.

view all 34k comments

user1 i knew it

user2 honestly that's so disrespectful...they wanted to keep it private

user3 they should think of that before kissing in an open space area

user4 that's honestly kinds cutesy

user5 aww my two fav athletes are a couple 🥺

user6 it was kinda obvious by the likes on every post

user7 i just thought they were friends supporting eachother 😭

yourusername ✔︎

liked by joaofelix79, jackhughes, pedroneto_30 and 2.1m others

yourusername take a note: if you're a celebrity in a private relationship, don't kiss your partner in public 🥲

view all 947k comments

joaofelix79 you're an idiot

yourusername i'm your idiot

user1 YESSS!!

user2 ha! take that kylie jenner!

user3 she can go back to timothee now

jackhuges my ship 🥺

user4 lmaoo jack was holding this secret in for so long

user5 when is the wedding and are we invited?

user6 kylie has been awfuly quiet 😭😭

user7 she just found out her boy toy is not into her kind lmao

❦ - valentines surprise.

summary:: being gavis girlfriend always comes with surprises, but it’s different this time because it’s his first valentines with you.

warnings:: uhm none!

writers note:: i’m so sorry this came the next day but i’ve lowkey been busy asf yesterday and i also had to write part 3 of the fic! anyways uhm that’s all i have to say

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

valentine’s day wasn’t something gavi thought too much about. sure, his teammates joked about their plans, the romantic dinners, the extravagant gifts, but for him, it was just another day, until this year.

this year was different. this year, he had you.

you weren’t flashy about valentine’s day either, which made planning a surprise for you even harder. he knew you’d insist that you didn’t need anything, that just spending time together was enough. but gavi wanted to do something special, just this once.

so here he was, pacing back and forth in his apartment, double checking everything. the candles were lit, casting a warm glow over the room. the dinner, well, it was mostly takeout from your favorite place, but he’d set the table himself. and on the couch sat the small, neatly wrapped box that had him more nervous than any game he’d ever played.

the sound of your key in the lock made his heart race.

‘gavi?’ your voice was soft, questioning.

‘in here,’ he called out, trying to sound casual.

when you stepped inside, your eyes immediately took in the scene, the dim lighting, the food on the table, the nervous way gavi rubbed the back of his neck. a slow smile spread across your lips.

‘you did all this?’

‘yeah,’ he admitted, watching your reaction carefully. ‘i just… i know you said you didn’t need anything, but i wanted to. you know, for you.’

your heart melted at his sincerity. stepping closer, you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the tension leave his body as he hugged you back.

‘i love it,’ you whispered against his chest.

dinner passed with laughter and easy conversation, the comfort of each other’s company better than any five star restaurant. afterward, gavi hesitated for a moment before handing you the small box.

‘open it,’ he urged.

inside was a simple gold bracelet, delicate yet strong, just like the way he saw you.

‘gavi,’ you breathed, running your fingers over the smooth surface. ‘it’s beautiful.’

‘there’s something on the inside,’ he said, suddenly shy.

turning it over, you read the small engraving: ‘siempre contigo’ always with you.

tears pricked at your eyes, and when you looked up, gavi was already searching your face for a reaction. you didn’t say anything, you just kissed him, soft and slow, pouring every unspoken word into it.

when you finally pulled away, he grinned. ‘so… does that mean you like it?’

you laughed, wiping at your eyes. ‘i love it. i love you.’

and as he pulled you into his arms again, gavi decided that maybe valentine’s day wasn’t so bad after all.

Maybeeee part 3 where they actually meet irl pookie? 🥺💙

But hear me out, they meet on accident not a planned date but wtv you feel like luv we trust in you 🛐

❦ - one wrong digit. part 3.

summary:: fate is real? isn’t it? or is it just a concept we believe from movies. idk bro and neither does joao.

warnings:: SO when i started this series, joao was still a chelsea player so we have to stick to this plot line to save my dignity!

writers note:: happy valentine’s day loves! this woulda taken me ages but i locked in bc this is my valentine’s day gift to you lot! so enjoy this and i lowkey had to speed up the plot so yk!

tags!:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

it was a cold day in kensington where you lived but you had to go to chelsea just for some errands. in the end you stumbled into a cute cafe on the edge of the road.

you don’t expect to see him. not today, not like this.

one second, you’re just going about your day, lost in your own world, and the next, you hear his voice. not through a phone speaker. not filtered by distance. but real,right there.

your brain takes a second to process it. because it’s one thing to facetime someone every day, to hear their voice in your ear at night, to recognize the way they laugh, the way they tease, the way they say your name like it belongs to them.

but it’s another thing entirely to see them in person.

you stop in your tracks, heart hammering, eyes scanning the cafe like you’re hallucinating. but no, he’s right there, standing near the counter, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone, completely unaware that you’re staring at him like the world just tilted on its axis.

you should say something. you should.

instead, your phone buzzes.

joão: what are you doing right now?

your breath catches. you glance up at him again. it’s so weird, seeing him like this, taller than you imagined, the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, how his hoodie is slightly oversized like it always is in your calls.

he still hasn’t noticed you.

nothing. why?

you watch as he reads it. he types for a second, then stops. then starts again.

joão: just wondering.

he lifts his head, eyes flicking up for just a second.

and that’s when it happens.

his gaze meets yours.

for a moment, neither of you move. you don’t breathe. he doesn’t either.

then, slowly, like he’s making sure you’re real, he lowers his phone.

‘no way,’ he murmurs.

you let out a breathless laugh, lost for words

his lips part slightly, like he doesn’t know whether to smile or freak out. ‘this is..’ he cuts himself off, shaking his head. ‘i was literally just texting you.’

you hold up your phone. ‘yeah. saw that.’

he laughs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. ‘okay, this is crazy.’

‘a little bit.’

‘like, what are the odds?’

‘apparently very low,’ you say, eyes still wide. ‘yet here we are.’

he lets out a disbelieving chuckle, then tilts his head at you, something softer in his expression now. ‘so… do we acknowledge that this is probably fate?’

you pretend to think. ‘hmm. or just a very, very weird coincidence.’

he smirks. ‘so, fate.’

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.

he takes a small step closer, hesitates for half a second, then grins. ‘hi.’

and just like that, you realise, this? whatever this is? it’s real. and it’s happening.

LOVED ur recent fic! Please i need a part two of the them somehow building the courage to FaceTime 🫡 ik u can pull this one off!

❦ - one wrong digit. part 2.

summary:: after weeks of texting && calling, you finally facetime the mystery boy.

warnings:: none

writers note:: LORD IM TRYING SO HARD NOT TO CRASHOUT BC I DID IT SO NICELY BUT IT DIDNT SAVE. so uhm this is the start of my villain arc.. also i was lowkey writing this and started wondering how many sim cards joao has bc he’s been all over the world?? anywho enjoy this!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

part 1

it starts with texts. then, late night calls. and now, every time your phone rings and his name flashes across the screen, there’s a small part of you that wonders when, if, this thing between you will turn into something more.

you don’t say it out loud, of course. but it lingers, a quiet thought at the back of your mind.

and apparently, it lingers in his too.

joão: you ever think it’s kinda weird we don’t even know what each other looks like?

weird how?

joão: i mean. we talk almost every day. i feel like i know you. but if i passed you on the street, i wouldn’t even realize it.

you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard. because he’s right. it is weird. but at the same time, there’s something safe about this, about not knowing.

maybe that’s what makes this different.

there’s a long pause before he replies.

joão: do you want it to stay different?

your heart skips.

do you?

this time, the pause stretches longer.

then, your phone starts ringing. but not the way it usually does. not a normal call.

facetime.

your stomach flips.

for a second, you just stare at the screen, watching his name and the little video icon blink as if waiting for you to decide.

and then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you swipe to answer.

at first, neither of you say anything. the screen takes a second to adjust, and then there he is.

joão félix.

he’s lying in bed, the warm glow of a lamp behind him. his hair is a little messy, and he’s wearing a plain hoodie, but he still looks… well. exactly how you imagined. maybe even better.

his lips part slightly, like he’s trying to find the right words.

‘hi,’ he finally says, voice softer than usual.

you swallow, forcing yourself to focus. ‘hi.’

he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow. ‘so. this is us. finally seeing each other.’

you let out a small laugh, even though your heart is racing. ‘yeah. guess it is.’

he watches you for a second, then smiles. it’s not the kind of smile you’ve seen in pictures, the confident, media-trained one. no, this one is different. smaller. realer.

‘you look exactly how i thought you would,’ he says quietly.

your breath catches. ‘is that a good thing?’

he nods, eyes flickering over your face like he’s trying to memorize it. ‘yeah. really good.’

your cheeks heat up, and you look away, biting back a smile.

‘what?’ he teases.

‘nothing,’ you mumble.

he chuckles. ‘you’re bad at lying.’

‘shut up.’

he laughs again, then shifts slightly, resting his chin on his hand. ‘so, do we do this now? do we start facetiming all the time?’

you pretend to think. ‘hmm. i don’t know. kinda liked the mystery.’

he raises an eyebrow. ‘so you don’t want to see my face?’

you roll your eyes. ‘i didn’t say that.’

he smirks. ‘so you do.’

you sigh dramatically. ‘maybe.’

he grins, and you realize something, this, whatever this is between you, is real. and suddenly, you’re not so scared of where it might go.

you should’ve expected this.

ever since that first facetime call, joão hasn’t stopped calling you. it starts at night, the way your usual phone calls used to be, but now, instead of just hearing his voice, you see him, hair messy from bed, hoodies that are way too big, the soft glow of a lamp making his face look warmer than it already is.

but then, it stops being just at night.

one afternoon, while you’re out running errands, your phone buzzes. you glance down, expecting a text, but instead, it’s another facetime request.

you blink. he’s never called you this early before.

you answer, and immediately, his face appears, squinting slightly against the sunlight.

‘what are you doing?’ you ask, adjusting the phone so he doesn’t get a view of the grocery store aisle behind you.

‘nothing,’ he says, leaning back against what looks like a stadium seat. ‘just finished training.’

you glance at the time. ‘it’s barely been an hour since we last talked.’

he shrugs, a small smirk tugging at his lips. ‘so?’

your stomach does that annoying little flip thing again. you huff, trying to ignore it. ‘so, you’re clingy.’

joão gasps dramatically. ‘clingy?’

‘yes.’

‘you like it,’ he accuses.

you roll your eyes. ‘do not.’

he grins, tilting his head. ‘so if i hung up right now, you wouldn’t care?’

your face heats up. ‘i didn’t say that.’

‘hmm,’ he hums, pretending to think. ‘i’ll let you have this one.’

you shake your head, pretending to be exasperated, but the truth is… you don’t mind. not even a little.

and that’s the problem.

because the more you talk, the more you facetime, the more you catch yourself smiling at your phone like an idiot, the harder it is to ignore the fact that this? whatever this is? it’s starting to feel like more than just a random wrong number that turned into a late night habit.

and you don’t know what to do about it.

and i will fuck you, like nothing matters; part three

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: gavi wants coral to be his. she's scared of their fame.

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // series masterlist // I do not take requests

Gavi took a deep breath. He had faced guys twice as tall as him in World Cup matches, shot penalties and done post game interviews for the Cahmpions League, but he had never been as nervous as he was parking by Coral's apartment.

He ahd been coming so often that when he crossed paths with one of thr neighbours she just smiled and greeted him by his name, adding a small comment about how Coral had been playing guitar all day long, and how delightful her new song was.

Gavi shared that fondness, he wanted to listen to Coral's music for hours every day for the rest of his life. He took the stairs jumping two steps at a time, his usual impatience getting the best of him. By the front door of her apartment, the soft chords of a song Gavi had not heard yet could be heard.

He felt a little guilty, ringing and interrupting the music, but seeing Coral standing on the other side of hte door, an oversized Barça hoodie on, her hair mess and her lips pink from biting them, like she always did, when she was concentrating; made it all worthy.

Gavi almost fell to his knee and asked for her hand in marriage, but her suspected that such proposal would not be accepted before he fixed their current situation.

"Gavi! I'm so busy right now, I don't think it's the best time to fuck right now..."

Right, that.

Their relationship was based around sex, the friends with benefits label falling over them easily after his ugly break up with Sandra. With a shattered heart and ego, the internet creating demeaning memes at lightning speed and everything he thought to be true crumling around him, Gavi had found shelter between Coral's arms.

But that shelter was not enough, not when he needed to really be hers.

For a long time he had been the heartbroken boy fucking his anger away. Now he was a smitten man, ready to ask Coral to be his girlfriend.

"I didn't come for that," he explained. Her eyes fell to the bouquet of flowers he was holding.

"Oh."

"Yeah." he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Do you think I can come in?"

"Yeah."

Coral stepped aside so he could walk inside. The apartmwnt was a mess, the way it became when she was composing a new song.

That was what had her so busy.

"Coral..." he started, handing her the flowers. "I'm pretty sure you can already figure out where this is going..." he laughed nervously. "I like you, Coral. A lot. It think you could tell already."

"I had a small idea..." she was already smiling brightly, her cheeks pink. It gave him confidence on what he was about to ask.

"Would you be my girlfirend, please?"

Coral didn't reply. She threw her arms around Gavi's shoulders, and kissed him hard.

"I love you," she said ending the kiss, with his hands around her waist. "But I really need to finish this song before inspiration leaves."

Gavi smiled. If there was soemthing he knew, it was that big emotions triggered her creativity and she would be writing for hours.

But now he could watch her work, like the lovee sick puppy that he was.

❦ - one wrong digit.

summary:: joao wanted to call his ex, instead slipping up a digit leading to you. but was it really just a slip up?

warnings:: none! y/n mentioned tho

writers note:: RIGHT THIS IS MY RANG SPOT. how am i flopping this hard? excuse me. i’m lowkey gonna crash out i’ve fallen off and i haven’t even reached the height of my career yet?? also why is all of joaos delicious photos gotta be monotone bro step up! lmk if you want a part two of this.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added!

you’re halfway through making a cup of tea when your phone rings. the number flashing on the screen isn’t saved in your contacts, but curiosity gets the best of you, and you swipe to answer.

‘hello?’

silence. then, a hesitant voice. ‘uh… hello?’

you frown. the guy on the other end sounds confused, almost unsure if he meant to call. ‘who’s this?’ you ask.

a pause. ‘i… uh… i was trying to call someone else.’

you let out a small laugh. ‘clearly.’

normally, you’d hang up. wrong numbers happen all the time. but something about his voice makes you linger, it’s deep yet soft, carrying a weight you can’t quite place.

‘who am i talking to?’ he asks, still hesitant.

‘you called me.’ you tease. ‘but since you’re curious, i’m y/n, and you?’

he hesitates, like he’s debating whether to tell you. ‘joão.’

‘nice to meet you, joão,’ you say, settling onto your couch. ‘you okay? you sounded kind of… off when you called.’

he exhales, the sound crackling slightly through the speaker. ‘yeah. just… long day.’

‘i get that.’ you shift, making yourself comfortable. ‘want to talk about it?’

he chuckles softly, but there’s something tired in it. ‘you don’t even know me.’

‘sometimes that makes it easier,’ you reply. ‘no pressure, though.’

for a moment, you think he’s going to brush it off. but then, to your surprise, he starts talking. not in long, drawn out sentences, but in small admissions, about football, about expectations, about the kind of loneliness that lingers even when you’re surrounded by people.

and you listen. not because he’s famous (though his name does sound vaguely familiar), but because he sounds like he needs it.

‘sounds like a lot,’ you say when he finishes.

‘yeah.’ his voice is quieter now. ‘sorry. you didn’t sign up for all that.’

‘i mean, i was about to watch a movie, but this is much more interesting,’ you joke.

that earns a soft chuckle from him. ‘what were you gonna watch?’

‘a classic,’ you say. ‘ever seen 10 things i hate about you?’

there’s a brief silence. then, ‘can’t say i have.’

you gasp dramatically. ‘that’s unacceptable. you have to watch it.’

he chuckles. ‘that good?’

‘it’s life changing.’

you hear a faint shuffling sound, like he’s moving on his end. ‘maybe i should.’

‘good,’ you say. ‘that way, next time you accidentally call me, we can discuss it.’

another pause. ‘next time?’

you laugh. ‘unless you’re planning on deleting my number after this.’

there’s something light in his voice when he replies. ‘no. i think i’ll keep it.’

you don’t expect it to turn into anything. but over the next few weeks, joão keeps texting you, sometimes after matches, sometimes just because. the conversations come easily, and soon, it’s not weird at all that a wrong number has somehow turned into a late night talking habit.

You’re mine-Joao Felix

Request: yes!

It's a sunny day, and the two of you are sitting in the park, just like always, talking about everything and nothing. João looks at you with a smile that seems too sweet, too full of emotions he's no longer able to hide. You've known each other for years, but lately, there's a strange tension that you can't ignore. It's not like before, when everything seemed simple between you two. Now, every time you talk about your boyfriend, you notice a slight tinge of jealousy in his eyes.

"So, how is he?" João asks, his tone a little too cold to be casual. His eyes drop for a moment, then look back at you, fixed on you.

"Yeah, he's doing well. We made plans for tonight," you answer, trying to sound natural, but you immediately notice how João shifts in his spot, as if the idea of you spending time with someone else is burning him inside.

"It seems like things are going well, huh?" João says, but there's something in his voice that you can't quite decipher. His hand absently brushes the grass, and his gaze drifts off into the distance.

"We're getting along, yeah," you reply, trying to keep your tone neutral. But when you meet his eyes, there's something strange in them, a mix of affection and something that makes your chest tighten.

"Well," João starts, trying to downplay it, but his smile is tense, "you should be happy with him. You're a special person, Y/N. You deserve nothing less."

Your mind is confused. What is he trying to say? There's something João hasn't told you, something that now seems clear between the lines. In another moment, you would have ignored his tension, but today you can't. His voice sounds different, as if he's trying to mask his pain behind an apparent kindness.

"João, is something wrong?" you ask, trying to figure out what's behind his behavior. He smiles weakly, but his eyes don't lie.

"Nothing's wrong," he quickly responds, but his gaze betrays a truth he doesn't want to admit. The tension between you two grows, palpable, like a storm approaching.

"Are you sure?" you insist, feeling the need to understand. João pauses for a moment, then moves a little closer, as if he wants to say something, but then stops again, unsure.

"Y/N," he starts slowly, "I've always wanted the best for you, and I know you've found it with him. But..." he pauses, his breath shortening. "It hurts to see you with someone else. I don't know how to tell you, but... it's not easy for me."

The world around you seems to freeze as those words pierce your heart. You don't know how to respond, because something inside you, something you hadn't noticed before, has awakened. Your friendship with João has always been a constant, but now there are emotions that go beyond simple friendship.

You move closer to him and caress his cheek. João's gaze flutters for a split second, surprised by your affectionate gesture. The moment your fingers touch his cheek, his expression softens, and he closes his eyes, as if savoring the touch he's been craving. You can feel his skin under your fingertips, warm and inviting.

You hug him gently and lean against his chest. João's body tenses briefly, as if trying to resist, but he can't help but surrender. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, and you feel his body against yours, the warmth of his chest against your cheek. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling softly, as if trying to memorize your scent.

You sigh softly before speaking. "Why didn't you tell me before?" you whisper into his chest. João's hand slides from your back to your hair, running his fingers through it. He takes a long breath, holding you tight against him.

"I didn't want to ruin your happiness," he replies, his voice a soft murmur. "I watched you with him, and even though it hurt me, I saw how happy you were. I thought I could keep it inside, that it would pass. But it didn't."

You sigh softly and cling to him. “Yes but I am happier with you” you whisper softly. João's heart skips a beat upon hearing your words. His fingers pause for a moment, and his hold on you tightens slightly, as if he's afraid this moment will slip away. He pulls away slightly, just enough to look into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asks, searching your gaze. There's a vulnerability in his eyes, a mix of hope and fear. “Yes,” you whisper and lean closer to him, kissing the corner of his mouth.

João's breath catches in his throat at the feel of your lips on his skin. His fingers tense briefly on your waist before pulling you even closer. The desire he'd been trying to ignore suddenly flares up, and he can feel his heart pounding wildly in his chest."Y/N," he whispers your name like a prayer, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotions.

He closes his eyes for a moment, gathering whatever courage he has left. Every reason, every logical thought that told him to stay away from you, to respect your relationship, it all disappears like smoke in the wind.His hand cups your cheek, and his touch is gentle but firm, as if he needs this connection more than air. His eyes open, and the mixture of want and fear is there, plain as day."Do you know what you're doing to me?" he murmurs, his thumb brushing your skin.

Your eyes meet his, and the intensity in his gaze makes you shiver. You know you're stepping into uncharted territory, crossing a boundary that's been there for years. But at this moment, none of that matters. The only thing that matters is the feeling of João's touch, the sound of his breathing, the desire that's been building between you.You raise your hand, placing it over his chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart. "Yes," you reply softly. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

João's breath catches in his throat as your hand on his chest makes his heart beat even faster. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes. The way you look at him, the confidence in your eyes, it both enthralls and terrifies him.He swallows hard, his gaze never leaving yours. "You'll drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

You smile, a sly, confident smile. "Maybe that's my plan."João groans softly, the sound low in his throat. The way you're teasing him, the way you're testing his self-control, it's both maddening and alluring.His hand slips from your waist, moving up to your face. He gently cups your chin with his fingers, tilting your head back slightly. "You're playing with fire, you know that?" he whispers, the heat in his gaze searing.

You tilt your head back, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Maybe I don't mind getting burned."The words hang in the air, heavy with an implication that you both know all too well. The tension between you is palpable, a thin line you're both toeing dangerously.João's hand moves from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers playing with the soft hairs at your nape. His thumb brushes against your lower lip, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"You shouldn't say things like that," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "I'm already barely holding back as it is."His thumb continues its ministrations on your lip, tracing the shape of it, as if he can't help himself."You're a temptress, you know that?" he whispers, his gaze fixed on your mouth.

You smile and bring his finger into your mouth sucking on it. Joao's breath catches in his throat as you take his finger into your mouth, a low moan escaping his lips. The act is so intimate, so wanton, that he can feel himself coming undone.

"Y/N," he whispers harshly, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. "You're playing a dangerous game."His other hand tightens its grip on your waist, pulling you closer so you're practically on his lap.

You smirk around his finger, your tongue swirling around it in a way that has him groaning again. The sight of you like this, so confident and brazenly sexy, is driving him crazy. He's trying desperately to keep control, but every flick of your tongue, every subtle movement of your body is eroding his restraint.His hand on your waist slides down, gripping your hip, his fingers digging into the flesh. He pulls you even closer, his body pressed against yours, and the heat between you is palpable.

You release his finger with a soft pop, your gaze never leaving his. The smirk on your face is now a full-blown smile, one that borders on dangerous. You love seeing him like this - torn, vulnerable, wanting you so desperately."What if I want to play that game?" you whisper, your voice a sultry purr.Joao's eyes darken, the hunger in them a barely contained beast. He leans closer, his lips brushing your ear. "Careful," he warns, his words a hot breath on your skin. "You might get more than you bargained for."

Your heart pounds furiously in your chest, the threat in his tone only exciting you further. The thrill of defying him, of pushing his limits, is intoxicating.You lean in, your mouth against his jaw, your lips softly trailing kisses along his skin. "Maybe that's exactly what I want," you whisper back, your voice sultry and bold.Joao's grip on your hip tightens, his body tense with the effort to restrain himself. He tilts his head to the side, giving you better access to his neck, a silent permission for you to continue.

You take advantage of his surrender, kissing and nipping at his neck until a low groan escapes him. His fingers dig into your flesh, his breathing ragged and uncontrolled."You're driving me insane," he breathes, his voice strained with desire. "You're gonna be the death of me."Your hands slide up his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, the quick rhythm of his heart. Your mouth continues its assault on his neck, leaving a trail of kisses and little bites that make him shiver.

It's getting difficult for him to think, with your mouth on his skin, your body against his, teasing and torturing him in the most delicious ways. He grabs your jawline, forcing you to look at him."Enough," he growls, his eyes dark with a mixture of arousal and command. "I can't take this anymore."He stands up abruptly, pulling you up with him, his grip on your arm firm but not harsh. He's lost all patience, and he needs you now.

You smile and kiss him. Joao doesn't waste a heartbeat. As soon as your lips meet, he kisses you back with a fierce intensity. There's a hunger there, an almost desperate need, as if he's been waiting for this moment.His hands grip your hips, pulling you tightly against him. His body molds to yours, as if every contour, ever curve was made for him. The kiss is deep, possessive, as if he's marking you as his own.

You respond to his passion with your own, your body arching into his. Your hands grip the front of his shirt, holding on as if your life depended on it. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his muscles tense under your touch.The kiss is primal, a raw display of desire that neither of you can control. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head back as his mouth moves from your lips to your jaw, your neck, down to your collarbone. Every touch of his lips against your skin feels like fire. His hands are everywhere, roaming your body, pulling you closer, demanding more. You can feel his possessive need in the way he touches you, the way he commands your body with his.Joao pushes you back against a tree, his body trapping you in, his hips pressing against yours. His mouth returns to your throat, his tongue trailing a heated path along your skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.

Your fingers clutch the bark of the tree, desperately searching for something to hold onto, as your body responds to every touch, every kiss from Joao. His hands are under your shirt now, roaming over your bare skin, his touch leaving a trail of fire.

"You're mine," he breathes against your neck, his voice a low rumble of possession. "You've always been mine, and I won't share you anymore."