Football Fluff - Blog Posts

hi hello! do you write for kieran tierney? if you don’t feel free to ignore this. but if you do can i please request a one shot where they’re talking about the fact that kieran’s moving to celtic at the end of the season and if they’re at a place in their relationship where the reader would move with him and it’s all angsty? hurt/comfort maybe? have a great day!

❦ - moving on.

summary:: moving on is hard, especially when you’re expected to pick everything up and move. not everything goes to plan and life is the best example of that.

warnings:: i don’t think so…

writers notes:: never did i expect to be writing for him but ykw heck yeah 😍. anyways i love writing angst it’s my element i fear, others may disagree but i love it sm

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the apartment felt quieter than usual. the soft hum of the city outside and the distant buzz of your phone were the only sounds that kept you grounded as you stared out of the window. it had been a long day, and all you wanted was some peace. but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

kieran’s voice broke through the silence, though it was quieter than usual, almost uncertain. ‘i think i’m really going to go for it. celtic. end of the season.’

the words hung in the air, thick with unspoken tension.

you didn’t turn to face him immediately, afraid that if you did, you’d betray the way your stomach had twisted in response. you felt the air grow heavy with the weight of his decision. he hadn’t exactly asked you what you thought, but you didn’t need him to. you both knew what this meant.

celtic was his home. he’d always spoken of them fondly, of the pride in representing the club that had raised him, that had seen him grow into the man he was today. and now, after everything, after all the time apart, after the struggles, the ups and downs, it was finally happening.

the move.

your heart ached at the thought.

you swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. ‘it’s... it’s a good opportunity, kieran. for you.’

it sounded almost dismissive, even to your own ears, but you couldn’t make yourself say anything else. because the truth was, a part of you was afraid. afraid that this was the moment that everything would change. that maybe you weren’t ready to let go of what you had here. or that, perhaps, you weren’t ready to follow him into this new chapter of his life.

kieran didn’t respond right away, and you finally turned to face him. he was sitting at the kitchen counter, his eyes fixed on his phone. his shoulders were tense, but his face, his face was the same as always. the face that had smiled at you in countless photos, that had comforted you when things felt rough, that had been the one constant in your life for so long.

but now, it was a mask. a mask you weren’t sure you could break through.

‘you don’t seem happy,’ he said softly, his eyes lifting to meet yours.

you took a shaky breath, the lump in your throat growing with every second. ‘of course i’m happy for you. it’s celtic. it’s everything you’ve worked for. but... but what about us?’

the words spilled out of you before you could stop them. you didn’t want to be selfish, but you couldn’t help it. his dream was becoming a reality, and you... you didn’t know where you fit into that anymore.

‘what about us, kieran?’ you repeated, your voice trembling. ‘are we at a place where... where i should follow you? can we keep doing this long-distance thing? or is this the end?’

the question hung between you, thick with all the unsaid words that had built up over the past few months. you’d both been busy, so busy, between his commitments, your own, that the time together had become sparse. and with this looming decision, with the inevitability of his move to celtic, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

kieran was silent, his gaze falling away from yours. ‘i didn’t want to put that pressure on you,’ he said quietly. ‘i don’t want to make you feel like you have to come with me.’

‘but i’m not sure i’m ready to leave everything behind,’ you confessed, your voice cracking. ‘i’ve built my life here, kieran. my job. my friends. i can’t just pick everything up and go.’

his eyes softened, and he stood up from the counter, walking over to you slowly, carefully. when he reached you, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the few stray tears that had fallen.

‘i didn’t mean to make you feel that way,’ he murmured. ‘i’m not asking you to leave everything behind for me. but you’re part of my future. that’s not something i can just... walk away from.’

you blinked up at him, trying to process the gravity of his words. you wanted to believe him. you wanted to believe that you could make it work, that love could conquer distance, could conquer time.

but it wasn’t that easy. not when you were being pulled in different directions, your own future uncertain.

‘and what if this doesn’t work out, kieran?’ you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. ‘what if you go to celtic, and things change? what if we change?’

he closed his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of your question was too much to bear. then, with a slow breath, he replied, ‘i don’t have the answers. i don’t know what the future holds. all i know is that i want you in it. i want us in it. but i can’t ask you to follow me if you’re not ready.’

the silence that followed was deafening. you wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, to reassure him that you didn’t want to lose him. but you also needed to be sure of yourself. you needed to know that you were making the right choice, for both of you.

‘kieran...’ you started, but the words caught in your throat.

he kissed your forehead gently, and you melted into him, allowing yourself the brief comfort of his touch. ‘whatever you decide, i’m not going anywhere,’ he whispered. ‘but i’m here for the long haul, and i need you to know that.’

you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to feel the warmth of his words, even if they didn’t fully ease the uncertainty in your heart. for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, to breathe in the scent of him, to just be with him. you weren’t ready to make a decision, but you didn’t want to let go of what you had, either.

the future was uncertain, but in this moment, you had each other. and maybe that was enough to keep you going.

for now.

Helloooo can I request reader bringing home a stray cat and trying to hide it from Guille?

Thank u <3

❦ - sneaking around.

summary:: req pretty much explains it

warnings:: none, i think there’s cussing but idk

writers notes:: so i wrote this like 2 weeks ago and it’s quite lazy but i have HUGE requests to do so im really genuinely sorry bc this is the best you’re getting outa me esp w exam season 💔.

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

bringing home a stray cat had not been part of the plan.

you’d just been walking back from the store when you saw him, tiny, scrappy, and clearly in need of help. and maybe it was the way he meowed at you, or maybe it was just your soft heart, but before you knew it, you were sneaking him inside your apartment, carefully avoiding making noise.

there was just one problem.

guille.

your boyfriend, guille fernández, who liked animals but was very aware of how much responsibility they came with. and, more importantly, who had specifically told you, ‘don’t bring home any more strays.’

but this wasn’t ‘any more.’ this was just one.

‘alright, little guy,’ you whispered, setting the cat down gently in your room. ‘we just have to keep you hidden until i figure something out.’

he meowed up at you. loud.

‘shhh—’

‘shhh what?’

you froze. guille’s voice came from the hallway.

shit.

‘nothing!’ you called back, quickly grabbing a hoodie and draping it over the cat, who did not appreciate the gesture.

too late. guille stepped into the room, giving you a suspicious look. ‘what are you doing?’

‘uh—nothing?’

he squinted. ‘why are you standing like that?’

‘like what?’

‘like you’re hiding something.’

before you could respond, the smallest meow escaped from under the hoodie.

guille’s eyes narrowed. ‘no. no way.’

‘babe, listen—’

‘you brought home another stray?’

you gave him your best innocent look. ‘technically, he followed me.’

guille groaned, dragging a hand down his face. ‘we talked about this.’

‘but look at him!’ you pulled back the hoodie, revealing the tiny cat, who blinked up at guille like he was the most unimpressed thing on earth. ‘he’s cute, right?’

guille sighed, staring at the cat. ‘we are not keeping him.’

‘of course not,’ you agreed way too quickly. ‘just, you know, temporarily.’

guille gave you a long look. then, finally, he exhaled. ‘fine. but you’re cleaning up after him.’

‘obviously.’

‘and feeding him.’

‘of course.’

‘and i swear, if you name him something stupid—’

‘his name is fernando.’

guille groaned again, but when he thought you weren’t looking, you caught him scratching behind fernando’s ear.

you smirked. yeah. this cat was staying.

could you please please please write a cute fic about joão x reader and it’s like reader is graduating university or something but joão has a game so he can’t make it so then reader is annoyed at his but he ends up ditching his game for her🥺😫

love your writing so much!!!!

❦ - priorities.

summary:: atp i’m gonna stop summarising it bc the req is lit the summary 💔.

warnings:: none

writers note:: i’m not writing these in order i’m lit doing in in whatever’s easiest bc i have LOADS in my drafts that i need to finish but im setting it aside bc it’s ramadan

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the moment you saw the text, your heart sank.

joão: babe, i’m so sorry, but i can’t make it to your graduation.

you stared at your phone, reading the message over and over, hoping it would somehow change.

you knew this was a possibility. football was his career, his life, and sometimes that meant missing important things. but this? this wasn’t just anything. this was your day. the one day you wanted him there more than anything.

you: seriously?
you: joão, this is my graduation.

three dots appeared. then disappeared. then reappeared again.

joão: i know, amor. i hate this. but it’s an important game.

you clenched your jaw, shoving your phone into your pocket before you said something you’d regret.

fine. whatever.

if he wanted to put football first, that was his choice.

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

you went through the motions, getting dressed, fixing your cap, taking photos with your family, but your heart wasn’t in it. the whole time, you kept thinking about how there should’ve been an extra seat saved for joão. how he should’ve been there, cheering for you, smiling at you with that proud look he always got when you accomplished something big.

instead, he was miles away, playing a game that would happen a hundred more times, while you only graduated once.

but fine. fine.

you weren’t going to let this ruin your day.

except.

when you walked onto the stage, shaking hands, accepting your diploma, when you looked out into the crowd, scanning the faces,

you saw him.

right there, sitting between your parents, looking slightly out of breath but beaming at you like you’d just won the champions league.

your steps faltered. for a second, you thought you were imagining it. but no—he was there.

your stomach flipped. your heart pounded. and then you had to keep moving, walking off the stage, back to your seat, your mind reeling the entire time.

he ditched his game.

for you.

after the ceremony, you found him before he could find you.

‘you’re insane,’ you said, staring at him.

joão grinned. ‘nice to see you too, grad.’

‘joão.’ you crossed your arms. ‘you had a game.’

‘yeah,’ he shrugged. ‘but you had this.’

your heart melted. ‘but your coach—’

‘will kill me? probably,’ he admitted. ‘but i don’t care. this was more important.’

and just like that, every ounce of frustration you’d felt earlier vanished.

because this was what mattered. not the missed game, not the schedule conflicts—just this. him choosing you.

so instead of arguing, you did what you’d been wanting to do all day.

you kissed him.

right there, in the middle of the crowd, with your diploma still clutched in your hand.

and when you pulled back, breathless, joão just smiled.

‘congrats, amor.’

jealous kenan about his teammates finding you attractive and his rival team so he’s not playing good until the last bit and when reader comes down to the pitch she just gives her a hungry kiss to show everybody she’s takin

❦ - the love of italia.

summary:: kenan finding out that almost the whole of italy put him off his game by a lot, eventually motivating him to do better.

warnings:: none

writers note:: thing is, i wrote this as soon as i got the req (ages ago) before ramadan thinking that i’d be able to post it before then but life had other plans so khalas, the haram police can’t catch me because i wrote this BEFORE ramadan.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

kenan yildiz was not having a good game.

it wasn’t because he was out of form, or tired, or struggling tactically. no, kenan was playing like shit because his mind was elsewhere. specifically, on you.

it had started before kickoff. you’d come to support him, looking effortlessly good in one of his old juventus hoodies, the sleeves hanging past your fingers, your hair falling just right. that alone would’ve been enough to distract him, but what really set him off was the way his teammates, and worse, the opposing team, had noticed.

‘so that’s your girl, huh?’ one of his teammates had asked in the locker room, nodding toward where you were chatting with some staff near the stands. ‘damn. didn’t know you were pulling like that.’

kenan had just given him a look.

then, during warmups, he caught some of the other team’s players also looking. one even had the audacity to say something to him as they passed.

‘number 10’s playing for more than just three points today, huh?’

kenan clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might crack.

from that moment on, he was done for.

it was obvious from the first whistle, kenan was off.

his passes were sloppy. his first touch was heavier than usual. he missed chances he’d normally bury without thinking. and every time someone from the rival team got near him, talking just enough shit for the ref not to hear, his blood boiled a little more.

‘what’s up with yildiz today?’ the commentators were already talking about it.

his coach was yelling from the sidelines. his teammates were trying to snap him out of it. but nothing worked. because every time he looked up, there you were, beautiful, perfect, and completely oblivious to the chaos happening in his head.

it wasn’t until the last few minutes of the game that something finally clicked.

it was still 0-0. they had one last attack. the ball came to kenan’s feet, and for the first time all game, his frustration sharpened into something useful.

he drove forward, weaving past defenders like they weren’t even there. everything else faded. the noise, the tension, the trash talk, it didn’t matter. all that mattered was getting this goal.

and he did.

a clean strike. bottom corner. unstoppable.

the stadium erupted. his teammates surrounded him, yelling, pulling him into hugs. but kenan barely reacted. his celebration was already planned.

his eyes went straight to you.

the second the final whistle blew, you made your way down to the pitch. you weren’t even thinking, you just knew you had to get to him.

by the time you reached the field, kenan was already waiting. his jersey was damp with sweat, his breathing still heavy, but his eyes were locked onto you like you were the only person in the world.

‘kenan, that goal—’

you didn’t get to finish. because the moment you were close enough, he grabbed you. one hand firm on your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck. and then he kissed you.

not just any kiss, a statement.

it was possessive, like he wanted to make sure every single person watching, his teammates, his rivals, the entire damn stadium, knew exactly who you belonged to.

you barely registered the cheers (and teasing whistles) from his teammates. all you could focus on was kenan, his body pressed against yours, the way his fingers dug into your waist.

when he finally pulled back, his expression unreadable.

‘you’re mine,’ he muttered, voice low enough for only you to hear.

your breath caught. but before you could even think of a response, he smirked, like he already knew the answer. like he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

and honestly? he was right.

Can you do one of kenan liking reader who’s a family friend and can it be like reader is moving to Turin because she’s and influencer so she got a nice apartment and has to set up and kenan finds out by his mom and dad so he uses that to get closer to her (before he was shy) and then the end can be all you

❦ - match made in turin.

summary:: kenan has always had a crush on you but distance always held him back. you finally moved to turin, leaving a huge surprise.

warnings:: uhh none?

writers notes:: i have sm kenan requests i love it

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

kenan yildiz had a crush.

a long, painfully obvious, yet entirely unspoken crush.

it had started when he was younger, back when you were just ‘a family friend’, someone he saw at gatherings, during summer vacations, or whenever your families crossed paths. back then, he’d been too shy to talk to you much. and even now, despite growing older, despite playing for one of the biggest clubs in italy, despite all the confidence he had on the pitch, when it came to you, kenan still found himself fumbling.

which was why, when he found out you were moving to turin, it was from his parents and not you.

‘did you hear?’ his mother had said over dinner, her voice casual, unaware of how her words would completely upend kenan’s night. ‘she’s moving here. got a new place and everything. apparently, she’s arriving next week.’

kenan, mid bite, nearly choked. he coughed, reaching for his water as his dad chuckled.

‘you alright?’ his dad asked, though the amused look in his eyes made kenan suspect he knew exactly what was going on in his head.

his mom continued, oblivious. ‘i told her to let us know if she needs anything. she’ll probably need help setting up the apartment.’

kenan was barely listening at this point. all he could think about was that you were moving here. to his city. for the first time, he wouldn’t have to wait for random family gatherings or holidays to see you—you’d be here, close, a part of his everyday life.

and maybe, just maybe, this was the excuse he needed to finally do something about this crush he’d been harboring for years.

when you landed in turin, you barely had time to breathe before your phone lit up with a message from kenan.

kenan: heard you moved in today. need help with anything?

it was unexpected. not that kenan wasn’t friendly, he was. but you’d always been the one to reach out first, the one to keep conversations going when he got quiet. this was new.

you: wow, look who’s being proactive.
you: but yeah, actually. i still have to set up some furniture.

his reply came almost instantly.

kenan: omw.

and just like that, you had company.

when kenan showed up at your new place, he looked different, not physically, but in the way he carried himself. he still had that soft awkwardness, the quiet confidence, but there was something else too. a kind of determination.

‘hey,’ he said, stepping inside. ‘so where’s the furniture?’

‘straight to the point, huh?’ you teased, closing the door behind him.

he only shrugged, fighting back a grin. ‘i’m here to help, aren’t i?’

you led him to the mess of boxes and half-assembled furniture in your living room. he took one look at it, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

and that was how the next few hours went, building, unpacking, and somewhere along the way, talking more than you ever had before. kenan was still the same, thoughtful, a little reserved, but now, he wasn’t hesitating. he asked questions, told stories, even made you laugh a few times.

it felt easy. natural. like this had always been the way things were supposed to go.

by the time the last piece of furniture was in place, the sun had set, casting a warm glow through your new apartment.

‘not bad,’ kenan said, surveying the space.

‘yeah,’ you agreed, stretching your arms over your head. ‘couldn’t have done it without you.’

he looked at you then, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between you. something that had been building for years but never fully acknowledged.

you smiled. ‘guess i owe you dinner or something.’

his lips twitched, as if he was fighting the urge to smile too wide. ‘i wouldn’t say no to that.’

you nodded toward the kitchen. ‘i think i have instant ramen.’

he laughed, shaking his head. ‘or we could go somewhere actually good.’

‘wow, okay, mr. fancy.’

he only shrugged, but there was a spark of something in his eyes. something that told you this wasn’t just about dinner. it was about something more.

and maybe, finally, you were both ready for it.

Hey I love your work can you please do a fic with Gavi were the reader is a professional tennis player and they are trying to get to watch each others matches but it's like really difficult. That would be soo cool. And maybe the reader is like Pedris sister or something. And he wants to see every match of her even if it's in halftime and their like dating since their 15 . Thank you

❦ - love && war.

summary:: you’re both supportive of each others careers but obviously there’s obstacles. matches, opens, you name it. that’ll never let it stop gavi though.

warnings:: no

writers note:: i feel bad for spam posting but in my defense they’ve been marinating in my drafts for honestly a while and i still have loads to write so bare w me! i keep on forgetting to post but @cherryloveshs & sometimes @barcapix has to keep me humble 💔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @cherryloveshs @universefcb

dating pablo gavi was a constant battle, not because he made things difficult (well, maybe sometimes), but because trying to align your schedules was practically impossible.

you were both professional athletes, both constantly traveling, both juggling training, matches, and media responsibilities. it was hard enough keeping up with your own career, let alone finding time to see each other.

but somehow, against all odds, you’d been making it work since you were fifteen.

‘where are you watching from?’

the text came through as you were tying your shoelaces, preparing for your next match in a wta tournament in madrid. you barely had time to check your phone before your coach called you over, but when you saw gavi’s name, you quickly typed back.

you: i thought you had a game?

gavi: i do. but halftime is soon. i’ll find a way.

you shook your head, smiling. of course he would. gavi had a champions league match tonight, yet here he was, making sure he didn’t miss your game.

true to his word, at halftime, when the rest of the team was getting their tactics from hansi, gavi was on his phone, sitting at the very edge of the bench so no one could block his signal.

‘bro, seriously?’ ferran torres raised a brow, watching as gavi adjusted the brightness.

‘shut up,’ gavi muttered, completely focused.

pedri, sitting beside him, leaned over to glance at the screen. ‘what’s the score?’

‘first set just started.’

pedri smirked. ‘you realize you have a game to play, right?’

‘yeah, yeah,’ gavi waved him off, barely paying attention.

this was normal by now. every chance he got, whether it was in a hotel room after a champions league away match, or during team flights, or, apparently, at halftime, he was watching your matches.

because if he couldn’t be there in person, this was the next best thing.

but when he could be there?

gavi would move mountains to make it happen.

which was exactly how he ended up flying straight from a la liga match in barcelona to paris, just to watch you play in the french open.

he landed at the very last minute, wearing a hoodie pulled low over his face as he slid into the stands, next to pedri, who had made the trip as well.

‘you’re insane,’ pedri muttered, watching as gavi exhaled, still catching his breath from sprinting through the airport.

‘does she know you’re here?’

gavi shook his head. ‘not yet.’

he wanted it to be a surprise. and when you finally looked up after winning a crucial point, your eyes scanning the crowd, the second they landed on him, he knew you’d seen him.

your expression flickered between shock and something softer, something that made the entire exhausting trip worth it.

gavi didn’t care that he was running on barely any sleep. didn’t care that hansi was definitely going to have words with him when he got back.

all that mattered was this.

seeing you. supporting you. the same way you always supported him.

when the match ended, when you won, you barely had time to process it before you were running toward him.

pedri sighed. ‘madre mia, she’s coming.’

‘shut up,’ gavi said, already standing.

and then you were in front of him, sweaty, exhausted, but so fucking happy.

‘what the hell are you doing here?’ you demanded, out of breath.

‘watching you win,’ he grinned, his voice filled with pride.

you shook your head, laughing. ‘you’re crazy.’

‘for you? always.’

and then, despite the cameras, despite the entire stadium watching, you threw your arms around him, hugging him so tight it knocked the breath from his lungs.

but he didn’t mind.

because this, this chaotic, impossible, beautiful life you had together, was worth everything.

Kenan and reader are having their first date and he embarrasses himself 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

❦ - first date dilemmas.

summary:: first dates don’t always go to plan. and this was a clear sign of that. whatever, you didn’t mind it though, it was cute.

warnings:: istg imma delete this warning section bc there is rarely any 💔.

writers notes:: lemme start off by saying ISTG IM NOT HALF ASSING THESE. i choose quality over quantity all the time! so obvs the fics are gonna be quite short but i promise they’re good (well atleast i like to think they are?) anyways uhm i promise ill start posting longer ones bare w me! ALSO I HAVE SM FINISHED FICS JUST IN MY DRAFTS SO ILL BE POSTING A LOT TODAY.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

kenan had been hyping himself up for this date all week. he’d picked out what he thought was his best outfit, practiced conversation topics in the mirror, and even watched a couple of rom coms for pointers.

but now, sitting across from you at a cozy little restaurant, his nerves were getting the best of him. he wanted to be smooth, charming, effortlessly cool, except he was pretty sure he was failing miserably.

the first slip up came when he tried to pour you a refill from the water pitcher. in his attempt to be casual, he misjudged the angle, and water sloshed over the rim of your glass, splashing onto the table.

‘oh—’ he grabbed a napkin, trying to mop it up quickly. ‘my bad. i, uh… i promise i don’t do this all the time.’

you smiled, amused. ‘so just on first dates, then?’

he groaned, but at least you were laughing. that was a good sign, right?

things smoothed out for a bit, and he actually started to relax. conversation was flowing, and you seemed to be having a good time. but then, as he was in the middle of telling a story, he gestured a little too enthusiastically, knocking his fork right off the table.

he paused, looking down at it on the floor, then back up at you. ‘you didn’t see that.’

you grinned. ‘oh, i definitely did.’

‘cool, cool, just checking.’ he picked up the fork, set it aside, and tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal.

by the time dessert arrived, he just sighed and leaned back. ‘okay, i think i just need to accept i’m gonna be at least a little awkward for the rest of the night.’

you tilted your head, considering. ‘i don’t know. i think it’s kind of endearing.’

kenan blinked. ‘wait. really?’

you shrugged, smiling. ‘yeah. it’s cute.’

for the first time all night, he was actually speechless. and, for once, it wasn’t because he’d just knocked something over.

pau cubarsí x reader where instead of holding hands she holds onto his bicep as it grounds and make her feel safe. it’s become almost second nature and pau’s teammates pick up on it and how protective and sweet he gets when she does it x

❦ - attached by the arms.

summary:: holding onto his bicep became a habit for you. you thought nobody would notice but EVERYONE did. however your boyfriend doesn’t mind it a single bit.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: uhm shoutout to @cherryloveshs bc she’s lowkey come to the point where i’m holding her hostage for child labour?? honestly idgaf 😛😛. she’s my favourite little girl for doing my mood boards bc i’m lazy asf but anyways that’s her honourable mention over! i love these reqs yall are so creative!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

pau cubarsí wasn’t the most openly affectionate person in public, but with you, things were different. it had started so naturally that neither of you really noticed at first, whenever you walked together, whether through the streets of barcelona or into the camp nou before a match, your hand would find its place gently wrapped around his bicep. not clinging, not pulling, just holding.

at first, he thought nothing of it. maybe you just liked the feeling, or maybe it was instinct. but over time, he started to realise, whenever you were nervous, when crowds got too loud, when the world felt a little too fast, you’d do it without thinking. and every single time, he felt the way your body eased beside him, like just that small connection was enough to ground you.

the team noticed too.

‘she does that a lot, huh?’ fermín lópez mused one day as they walked into the stadium, nodding toward your hand resting securely against pau’s arm.

pau glanced down at you, completely unaware of the conversation happening about you, just focused on whatever thought had settled in your head, and then back up at fermín.

‘yeah. she does.’ ronald araújo smirked. ‘you don’t seem to mind.’

he didn’t. if anything, it made something warm settle in his chest. he never brought it up, never teased you about it, never asked you why, he just let you do it, let you hold onto him when you needed to, and in return, he made sure you never had a reason to let go.

and the others noticed that too. the way his hand would naturally drift to your lower back when walking through crowds. how he subtly adjusted his pace to match yours. the way his expression softened when he looked down at you, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist for that moment.

‘he’s whipped,’ ferran torres whispered to gavi during training one day.

‘no, he’s just in love,’ gavi muttered back, watching as pau instinctively leaned down when you spoke to him, giving you his full attention.

and maybe that was it. maybe it was love. maybe it was something else entirely. but whatever it was, pau knew one thing, whenever you reached for him, he’d always be there.

❦ - silent devotion.

summary:: quiet ramadan nights w kenan. ( @barcapix take notes habibi 💔.)

warnings:: uhh none!

writers note:: ramadan kareem to everyone who celebrates! may Allah make your fasts easy! my requests will be slower now that it’s ramadan i need to stay halal yk 💔. also do you guys call it suhoor or sehri bc i call it fothabala bc my dad is from bangladesh…? anyways enjoy 🤍!

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

you sat on the floor of the apartment, legs stretched out, back against the couch. the table was still cluttered with plates from iftar, but neither of you had bothered to clean up yet. the night felt slow, the air thick with the kind of quiet that only came after long days and empty stomachs.

kenan was next to you, his head tilted back against the cushions, a bottle of water resting loosely in his hand. his eyes were half lidded, exhausted but awake, the way he always was during ramadan. fasting didn’t seem to slow him down at training, but once he was home, you could see it, the weight of it, the way his body ached from pushing itself past hunger, past thirst, past exhaustion.

‘you should drink more water,’ you muttered, nudging his arm.

he huffed out a laugh but took another sip, just to prove a point. ‘you sound like my mother.’

‘well, she’s right.’ you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, watching as he rolled the bottle between his palms, lost in thought.

‘long day?’ you asked.

he nodded. ‘yeah. good, though. i felt sharp.’

you believed him. he never said much, never bragged, never complained. but you knew him well enough by now to hear what he wasn’t saying. the tiredness in his voice, the slight stiffness in his movements. the way he never admitted when it was too much.

‘stay up until suhoor?’ you asked.

he exhaled, considering it. ‘yeah. it’s easier that way.’

so you stayed. the two of you, sitting in the quiet, listening to the city hum outside. he tapped his fingers absently against the bottle, and you leaned your head back, letting the silence settle. neither of you needed to fill it.

ramadan nights always felt like this slow, heavy, still. but not lonely. never lonely.

I know this is such a random request but this recently happened to my cousin and I just randomly thought of how joão would react to his partner accidentally losing her engagement ring around the house.

❦ - lost && found.

summary:: you were running errands in the house until you lost your ring.

warnings:: none?

writers note:: i looooove this! and stay tuned for the rest of my requestsss

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

you swore you had it on. you knew you had it on.

one moment, you were going about your day, doing little things around the house, folding laundry, making coffee, scrolling through your phone, and the next, your left hand felt oddly... light.

your stomach dropped.

'joão,' you called hesitantly, already frantically patting down the couch cushions.

he strolled in, freshly showered and still toweling his hair, oblivious to your rising panic. 'hm?'

'i, uh, i think i lost my ring.'

his face froze mid-sentence, towel dropping onto his shoulders. 'what?'

'my ring,' you repeated, heart pounding. 'i was just, doing stuff around the house, and now it's gone.'

joão blinked at you, processing, then immediately stepped into action. 'okay. it's fine. we’ll find it.' his voice was calm, but you could see the tiny crease forming between his brows.

'i swear i didn’t take it off,' you said, running a hand through your hair. 'i would've noticed.'

joão hummed in understanding, already lifting pillows off the couch. 'well, it didn't just vanish. let's retrace your steps.'

and so began the great ring hunt of the félix household.

joão took it very seriously. he checked under furniture, inside the sink drain (even though you swore you hadn't been near it), inside your shoes, every possible and impossible place. you had never seen him so focused, muttering little theories under his breath.

'maybe it got caught in a blanket?'

'did you check the pockets of your jeans?'

'what if it fell in the coffee machine?'

'why would it be in the coffee machine?'

'i don’t know! rings are small, amor!'

you tried to stay calm, but anxiety was creeping in. it wasn’t just any ring, it was the ring. the one joão had spent weeks picking out, the one he slipped onto your finger with that soft, lovestruck look in his eyes.

'maybe i'm not responsible enough to be engaged,' you mumbled dramatically, sinking onto the floor.

joão, who had just finished checking under the rug, turned to you with an exasperated chuckle. 'don’t be ridiculous.' he crouched in front of you, hands cupping your face. 'you lost it in the house. we’ll find it. and even if we don’t, which we will do you really think a missing ring is gonna change anything?'

you sighed. 'no, but..’

before you could finish, joão's eyes flickered to something behind you.

he reached over, plucked something off the floor, and held it up between his fingers.

your ring.

you gasped. 'where was it?!’

joão smirked. 'under the coffee table. you must have knocked it off somehow.'

relief flooded you as he slid it back onto your finger.

'you’re stuck with me again,' you teased, flexing your hand.

he grinned, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 'i was never worried about that.'

Do you think you can do R dragging joao to the shops with her?

❦ - retail therapy.. or not?

summary:: you dragged your boyfriend joao out shopping with you. despite all his protests he ends up enjoying his time.

warnings:: none.

writers note:: anyways so i’ve hired the amazing @cherryloveshs to make the moodboards for me bc she sent me diabolical requests so for the next 20 fics you’ll see the moodboards i told her to make for me 😍.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

you tugged joão’s hand, practically dragging him along the sidewalk as he trailed behind you, every step exaggerated like you were pulling him toward impending doom rather than just another store.

'come on,' you whined, glancing back at him. 'it won’t take long, i promise.'

he shot you a look, one eyebrow raised. 'that’s what you said at the last store,' he muttered, but there was no real annoyance in his voice, just that playful exasperation he always threw your way when you got him into situations like this.

'yeah, well, that store didn’t have what i was looking for,' you said, matter-of-fact, giving his hand another tug.

joão sighed dramatically, tilting his head back to stare at the sky like he was praying for strength. 'how many stores do you need to go to?'

'just this one,' you promised, fully aware there was a shoe store two doors down you’d 'accidentally' stumble into afterward.

he grumbled under his breath but followed anyway, fingers still laced with yours. when you stepped inside, he blinked at the rows of clothes. 'this place is huge,' he said. 'are we living here now?'

'only if you keep complaining,' you shot back, grinning.

joão immediately put on his most put-upon boyfriend face, shoulders slumping. 'if i die in here, tell everyone i loved them,' he said, loud enough that a nearby shopper snorted a laugh.

rolling your eyes, you started flipping through a rack. 'you’re so dramatic.'

'you brought me here!'

'you said you needed new jeans!' you reminded him.

'yeah, but i thought we’d pop in and out, not... whatever this is,' he gestured vaguely at the racks surrounding you. then, with a sigh that screamed long-suffering, he spotted one of those little benches near the fitting rooms and made a beeline for it. 'i’ll just... sit here and age gracefully while you look.'

'nope,' you said quickly, grabbing a shirt off a hanger and tossing it at him. 'you’re trying stuff on too.'

'why?'

'because you always complain about shopping and then end up loving half the things you try on,' you pointed out. 'don’t think i forgot last time when you acted like you were dying and walked out with three new hoodies.'

'hoodies are different,' he said, already examining the shirt you handed him. 'they’re... comforting.'

'uh-huh,' you deadpanned. 'go. fitting room. now.'

'yes, boss,' he grinned, shooting you a wink before disappearing into the changing room.

while he was inside, you grabbed a couple more things you thought he’d like, hanging them over your arm. you could hear the faint sounds of him grumbling about tags and buttons, which only made you smile.

'ready?' he called.

'let’s see it.'

the door creaked open, and joão stepped out, adjusting the sleeves of the shirt. you blinked.

'okay... rude,' you said. 'you’re not allowed to look that good after complaining this much.'

he glanced in the mirror, a slow smirk spreading across his face. 'not bad, huh?'

'get it,' you said immediately. 'no arguments.'

'thought you said you wouldn’t take long,' he teased. 'you’re the one making me try stuff on now.'

'yeah, yeah,' you waved him off, already scanning for a pair of jeans you thought would go with the shirt.

he laughed, heading back into the fitting room. 'this is payback for making you watch football highlights, isn’t it?'

'maybe,' you grinned.

a little while later, you both emerged with a couple of items draped over your arms, way more successful than joão had anticipated. as you headed toward the checkout, he leaned in and murmured, 'so... coffee after this?'

'of course,' you said. 'thanks for surviving.'

'barely,' he grinned. 'but i’ll need that coffee for recovery.'

'you’ll live,' you teased.

as you left the store, bags in hand and his fingers slipping back into yours, he glanced at you with a soft smile. 'you’re lucky i like you,' he said.

'oh, i know,’ you shot back, laughing as he bumped his shoulder into yours.

and despite all the whining, he never once let go of your hand.

hey guysss since schools started again i’ll be quite slow on requests but i PROMISE to get them all done within the next 3 weeks! i didn’t expect to get this many but i love and appreciate every single one i receive so thank you for all the support and patience!! xx 🤍

Hii do u write for Marc Bernal or the Fernandez cousins (Toni and Guille)?

I love ur writing btw <3

❦ - the best kind of trip.

summary:: it’s 2am after a long day and you and marc decide to go on a random road trip.

warnings:: uhhhh none?

writers note:: okay so this isn’t really a req but i wanted to write for him to i took the opportunity!

the city buzzed outside, alive with distant laughter and the hum of traffic, but inside the apartment, it was warm and quiet. the kind of quiet that settled between two people who didn’t need to fill the space with words. you sat curled up on the couch, wearing one of marc’s oversized sweatshirts, the sleeves swallowing your hands as you scrolled through your phone aimlessly. the clock on the wall ticked past midnight, and the space beside you felt too empty. he had texted hours ago: team dinner, i won’t be too late, but as the minutes stretched into hours, your mind began to wander.

it was after one when the front door finally creaked open. you looked up, relief washing over you as marc stepped in, hair tousled from the wind, cheeks flushed from the cold. his smile was soft, a little sheepish.

‘hey,’ he said, voice low. ‘sorry i’m late. things ran longer than i thought.’

‘i figured,’ you murmured, unfolding from your spot. you crossed the room and slipped your arms around his waist, holding him close. he smelled like the night air and the faint hint of his cologne, something familiar that eased the tension in your chest.

‘missed you,’ marc whispered into your hair, arms tightening around you.

‘missed you too,’ you replied, voice muffled against his jacket. pulling back slightly, you reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes. ‘you eat? i kept some food warm.’

he shook his head. ‘wasn’t really hungry. just wanted to come home.’

you smiled, fingers lingering against his cheek. ‘come on, let’s sit. you look exhausted.’

he let you lead him to the couch, flopping down beside you with a sigh. without thinking, you pulled a blanket over both of you, tucking it around his shoulders. he leaned into you, head resting on your shoulder as your fingers found his hair, combing through the dark strands.

‘these are my favorite nights,’ marc murmured, voice barely above a whisper. ‘just you and me. no noise, no cameras.’

‘mine too,’ you said softly. the television played something neither of you was really watching, casting flickering lights across the room. outside, rain began to patter against the windows, the soft sound filling the spaces between your breaths.

a comfortable silence stretched between you until marc spoke again. ‘wanna do something spontaneous?’

you glanced down at him, brow raised. ‘like what?’

he grinned, boyish and bright despite how tired he looked. ‘let’s go somewhere. right now. just get in the car and drive.’

you laughed, shaking your head. ‘marc, it’s two in the morning.’

‘that’s what makes it fun,’ he argued, sitting up. his eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘we don’t have to go far. just... get out of the city for a bit. clear our heads. what do you say?’

you hesitated, glancing toward the window where rain continued to fall in gentle waves. the idea was ridiculous, and yet, there was something irresistible about it. about him. ‘you’re impossible,’ you muttered.

‘but you love me,’ he shot back, grinning

‘unfortunately,’ you teased, grabbing your keys from the counter. ‘fine. but you’re driving.’

‘deal.’

twenty minutes later, you were in his car, the heater blasting as you sped down near-empty streets. marc rolled the windows down despite the chill, letting the rain-scented air whip through the cabin. you leaned back, watching city lights blur into streaks of gold and red. his hand found yours on the center console, fingers intertwining naturally.

‘this is crazy,’ you said over the music, wind tugging at your hair.

‘the best kind of crazy,’ marc replied, glancing at you with a grin that made your heart stutter.

you drove aimlessly, laughing as marc sang (badly) to old songs, stopping at a 24-hour gas station to load up on snacks. you found yourself giggling at the absurdity of it all, standing in a fluorescent-lit aisle at three a.m., marc holding up a bag of gummy bears like it was the greatest discovery of the night.

‘essentials,’ he said seriously

‘you’re a menace,’ you replied, tossing a bag of chips into the basket.

back in the car, you drove until the city fell away, replaced by dark roads winding through fields and trees. eventually, marc pulled over at a secluded spot overlooking a stretch of water, the surface rippling under the rain. he killed the engine, and for a moment, the world felt suspended, just the two of you in a bubble of quiet.

he got out first, grabbing the blanket from the backseat. ‘come on,’ he urged. you hesitated before following, shivering as the cool air bit at your skin. marc wrapped the blanket around both of you, pulling you close. your head rested against his shoulder as you looked out at the water, the sky beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn.

‘worth it?’ he asked softly.

you glanced at him, taking in the messy hair, the tired but content eyes. ‘yeah,’ you whispered. ‘worth it.’

he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. ‘told you.’

the sky bloomed with colors, pinks, oranges, soft purples, reflecting off the water in shimmering waves. marc held you tighter, his warmth seeping into you, grounding you in the moment. for a while, neither of you spoke, content to watch the world wake up around you.

‘this,’ he murmured after a long stretch of silence, ‘this is what life should be. just... us. no schedules. no pressure. just being.’

you nodded, heart swelling with affection. ‘i could stay like this forever.’

he chuckled. ‘careful, i might hold you to that.’

you tilted your head up to kiss him, slow and soft, the kind of kiss that spoke of quiet promises and late-night adventures. when you pulled back, his smile was lazy and content. ‘love you,’ he said.

‘love you more,’ you replied automatically.

‘impossible,’ he shot back, grinning.

the sun crested the horizon, bathing everything in warm, golden light. marc’s arms stayed wrapped around you as the world stretched out before you, vast and full of possibility. and in that moment, with his heartbeat steady under your palm and the future wide open, you believed that maybe, just maybe, you could stay there forever.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.  

❦ - 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.