Football X Reader - Blog Posts

OMG This Gavi x tennis reader fic was so good could you do a part two or maybe a series out of it. It would be soo cool

❦ - love && war part 2.

summary:: after ages of long distance due to matches and opens, you two are finally reunited, for good. ALSO YOU CAN READ THIS AS A ONE SHOT IF YOU WISH.

warnings:: none

writers note:: first of yall do yg want a part 3 and if so lmk! and usually i have sm to say but i js dont?

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

gavi hated this.

hated watching your matches through a screen. hated missing the moments that mattered. hated that you were miles away while he was stuck in barcelona, playing game after game without you in the stands.

he had tried to act normal. tried to focus on training, on his own matches, but it was impossible when his mind kept drifting back to you.

you were playing one of the biggest tournaments of your career, and he wasn’t there. instead, he was sitting in the team bus, watching the live stream on his phone with his airpods in, barely listening as his teammates talked around him.

pedri nudged him. ‘what’s the score?’

‘she won the first set. second set’s tied.’ gavi’s voice was tight, his grip on his phone firm.

his heart was racing. he could see the way you moved, the way you fought for every point. he knew that look on your face, the one that meant you weren’t giving up.

when the bus arrived at the hotel, gavi didn’t move. he just sat there, eyes locked on his screen.

ferran laughed. ‘bro, are you coming?’

‘go without me,’ gavi muttered, waving them off.

pedri sighed but didn’t argue. ‘don’t stay up all night, man. you have a game tomorrow.’

gavi didn’t even acknowledge him. he was too busy watching you chase down a drop shot, too busy whispering curses under his breath when you missed, too busy fist pumping when you won the next point.

then came match point.

he held his breath.

you tossed the ball into the air, racket swinging effortlessly, the sharp sound of the ball meeting strings filling the speakers. your opponent barely got a return in before you sent a forehand straight down the line, untouched.

game, set, match.

gavi exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair as he watched you drop your racket, hands flying to your face in disbelief before pure joy took over. the crowd erupted, commentators shouting excitedly, but all gavi could focus on was you.

he needed to call you. now.

he stepped off the bus, walking toward the hotel entrance as he pulled up your contact. it barely rang twice before you picked up, breathless.

‘pablo!’

he grinned. ‘felicidades, mi amor. joder, you were incredible.’

you let out a shaky laugh, still overwhelmed. ‘you watched?’

‘of course i watched,’ he scoffed. ‘you think i’d miss that?’

‘you have a game tomorrow.’

‘i don’t care. i needed to see you win.’

there was a pause, your breathing still heavy from the match.

‘i wish you were here.’

his chest tightened. ‘me too.’

and he meant it. more than anything.

you sighed softly. ‘i’m flying back in two days.’

‘two days is too long.’

‘pablo.’

‘what if i come to you instead?’

you groaned. ‘you have training. a match. be serious.’

‘no quiero ser serio,’ he muttered. ‘quiero verte.’

you laughed, tired but full of love. ‘dos días, amor. i’ll be home soon.’

he sighed, kicking at the ground. ‘fine. but the second you land, i’m kidnapping you.’

‘deal.’

he smiled, finally making his way inside. two days. he just had to survive two more days.

gavi had never been this impatient in his life.

he was at the airport two hours early, pacing near the arrivals gate like a madman. pedri had made fun of him for it, called him dramatic, told him to just wait at home like a normal person, but gavi didn’t care. he had waited long enough.

his arms were crossed, jaw tight, sneakers tapping anxiously against the polished floor as he checked the flight tracker for what had to be the hundredth time. landed. you were here. finally.

his heart was pounding, fingers tapping against his thigh as he watched passengers filter through the doors. every time someone who vaguely resembled you walked out, he straightened up, only to sigh when it wasn’t you.

then he saw you.

hair slightly messy from the flight, suitcase dragging behind you, eyes scanning the crowd. and the second your gaze landed on him, everything else disappeared.

he didn’t think. he just moved.

one second, he was standing still. the next, he was pushing through people, reaching for you, grabbing your face and kissing you like he was scared you’d disappear again.

you barely had time to react before you melted into him, hands gripping his hoodie as he held you close, like he needed to feel every inch of you to believe you were really here.

when he finally pulled back, you were breathless, blinking up at him in surprise.

‘hola to you too,’ you teased.

he ignored you, pressing his forehead against yours. ‘you’re never leaving for that long again.’

you laughed softly, fingers brushing through his hair. ‘i can’t promise that, pablo.’

‘then i’ll come with you.’

‘you have a job, remember?’

he frowned. ‘it’s a stupid job.’

you grinned. ‘says the guy who loves football more than anything.’

‘not more than you,’ he muttered, arms still locked around you.

you sighed, shaking your head. ‘you’re impossible.’

‘you love it.’

you did. you really did.

he grabbed your suitcase, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he started leading you toward the exit.

‘come on, we’re going home. and i’m not letting you out of my sight for at least a week.’

you smiled, leaning into him. ‘fine by me.’

the drive back to his place was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. it was the kind of comfortable silence that only came from knowing someone so deeply that words weren’t always necessary. gavi had one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, thumb brushing absently over your skin.

you watched him in the dim light of the car, his face focused, jaw tight like he was still processing the fact that you were finally here.

‘you okay?’ you asked softly.

he glanced at you, squeezing your leg before turning back to the road. ‘yeah. just… missed you.’

you smiled, threading your fingers through his. ‘i missed you too.’

he let out a small breath, like he had been holding it in for weeks.

‘you’re really not leaving for a while, right?’

you bit your lip. ‘well—’

his head snapped toward you so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash. ‘no. no way. you just got back.’

you laughed. ‘pablo, relax. i meant i have a few interviews and press stuff, but i don’t have to travel again for at least a month.’

he exhaled dramatically. ‘okay. that’s fine. i can work with a month.’

you rolled your eyes, leaning over to kiss his cheek. ‘you’re so dramatic.’

he just hummed, tightening his grip on your hand like he was scared you’d slip away.

when you finally reached his apartment, he barely gave you time to take off your shoes before he was pulling you onto the couch, dragging you into his lap.

‘pablo,’ you giggled. ‘let me breathe.’

‘no.’

you shook your head, running your fingers through his hair. ‘you’re like a clingy puppy.’

he just buried his face in your neck, mumbling something you couldn’t quite hear.

‘what was that?’

he sighed, voice muffled against your skin. ‘i hated not being there.’

you softened, tilting his chin up so he was looking at you. his eyes were darker than usual, serious.

‘you support me, pablo. even from miles away. i always feel you with me.’

he swallowed, looking down for a second before meeting your gaze again. ‘i wanted to be in the stands. wanted to run down to the court and pick you up when you won. wanted to kiss you in front of everyone so they knew you were mine.’

your heart ached.

‘pablo—’

‘i know your career is important. i’d never want you to give that up. but sometimes i wish things were easier. that i could just be with you all the time.’

you sighed, resting your forehead against his.

‘me too.’

his hands slid up your back, pressing you even closer. ‘promise me something?’

‘anything.’

‘next time you win a title, i’ll be there. no matter what.’

you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. ‘deal.’

he grinned against your mouth, flipping you onto your back so he could hover over you.

‘good. because i don’t plan on missing another match ever again.’

you laughed, pulling him down for another kiss.

home. finally.

Hiii!! I've been thinking about this for a while, and I feel like you're the best person to write it. Something where the reader and Kenan are getting involved, spending time together, but no one knows. They don’t follow each other on Instagram and try not to like each other’s posts so no one gets suspicious. She told him it would be the best way to avoid gossip since she’s the daughter of a famous retired football player and wants to keep things low-key. But after a night together, Kenan tells her he's tired of hiding, that he wants her at his games, and that he doesn't care about all that. Still, she keeps avoiding it. There's an important match in two days, and he really wants her to be there. Then, out of nowhere, her dad decides to visit and takes the chance to watch the game. She texts Kenan, telling him that his wish is coming true—she’ll be there, and no one will suspect anything. The game is amazing, and she ends up appearing on the big screen next to her father. Those images start circulating on football pages because everyone is fascinated by how stunning the ex-player’s daughter is. This brings a lot of attention to her, and suddenly, some bolder footballers start following her. Kenan does not like that…

I feel like there could be more to this, but I can’t think of an ending. I know you can turn this into gold!

❦ - hidden in plain sight.

summary:: what the req says + i honestly wouldn’t be able to tell u bc i didn’t proofread this and i wrote it like last week (idek if this even follows the req but im posting this otw to school?)

warnings:: uhhh none

writers note:: RIGHT so i think im people favourite kenan writer bc the reqs just keep coming (i love you guys pls don’t ever stop my cuties!) anyways enjoy 💔.

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

kenan leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching as you slip one of his hoodies over your bare shoulders. it’s too big, the sleeves hanging past your fingertips, but you wear it anyway. you always do. the early morning light filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow on your skin, making the moment feel softer than it really is.

you’ve spent the night together, again, but as always, you’ll be gone before the world wakes up. it’s your unspoken rule.

but something feels different this morning. there’s a weight in the air, something unspoken lingering between you. you can feel kenan’s eyes on you as you tie your hair into a loose ponytail, as you reach for your bag. normally, he lets you go without a fight. normally, he kisses you once more, watches you walk out the door, and waits for the next time.

but today, he doesn’t just let it go.

‘you really think this is still working?’ his voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it.

you pause, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. ‘what do you mean?’

‘this. us. hiding like this.’

you turn to look at him, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes, frustration, longing, something deeper than either of you have ever acknowledged out loud.

he steps forward, his hands slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. ‘i want you at my games. i want to see you in the stands, wearing my jersey, cheering for me. i want to go out with you without having to think twice about who’s watching.’ his fingers tighten just slightly, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. ‘and i don't care who knows.’

your heart clenches, but you force yourself to shake your head. ‘kenan… you know why we do this. the second people find out, it won’t be about us anymore. it’ll be about my dad, about gossip, about every little thing i do. and then there’s your career-‘

‘my career?’ he scoffs, his jaw clenching. ‘you think i give a damn about what people say? i want you. that’s it.’

you look up at him, searching his face for something, understanding, patience, anything to make this easier. but all you see is frustration and something deeper, something that scares you.

‘kenan…’ your voice is soft, uncertain.

‘no. i’m tired of this, babe.’ his hands tighten on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away just like every other morning. ‘i want you there. i want you to be able to post a picture of us without thinking twice. i want to hold your hand in public without looking over my shoulder.’

you want that too. god, you do. but it’s not that simple. it’s never been that simple.

‘please,’ he says, voice lower now. ‘come to my game.’

you don’t answer. you just press a kiss to his jaw and step back, reaching for your bag. ‘i’ll see you later, kenan.’

he watches as you leave, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists like he’s fighting the urge to chase after you. but he doesn’t. he never does.

two days later.

you’ve been avoiding the topic. every time your phone lights up with kenan’s name, you hesitate before answering, knowing exactly what he wants to say.

then, out of nowhere, your dad calls.

‘thought i’d come visit for a few days,’ he says casually. ‘been a while since i saw you. figured we could catch up, and… oh, i got us tickets to that big juventus match. i know you don’t care much, but come on, it’ll be fun.’

your heart stops.

kenan’s game.

the universe has a twisted sense of humor.

when you text kenan, your hands are shaking, half from nerves, half from something else.

you’re getting your wish. i’ll be at the game. no one will suspect a thing.

his reply is instant.

finally.

match day.

the stadium is packed, the energy electric. cameras flash everywhere, fans wave banners, the roar of the crowd vibrates through your chest. you sit next to your dad, pretending this is just another game, just another night. but it’s not. you know it. and kenan knows it too.

you try not to look for him, but it’s impossible. every time he gets the ball, every time he makes a play, you feel his presence like gravity pulling you in. and then, in a moment so brief you almost think you imagined it, he looks up, right at you.

you don’t breathe.

he smirks. just for a second. just for you.

then the screen shifts.

your face. your dad’s. plastered across the big screen for the entire stadium to see.

your stomach drops.

your dad laughs, nudging your arm. ‘guess they like seeing an old legend in the crowd, huh?’

you force a smile, but your pulse is racing.

the internet moves fast. by the time the game ends, pictures are everywhere, sports pages, football accounts, gossip sites. ex-player’s stunning daughter spotted at big match. the comments flood in. admiration. curiosity. and then… attention. the kind you didn’t want.

your notifications blow up. blue check accounts start following you. some of them are footballers, bold enough to slip into your dms, dropping fire emojis, compliments, invitations.

and kenan?

he’s livid.

later that night.

you’re in your apartment when he shows up, not even bothering to knock.

‘so that’s what it takes for you to show up at one of my games? your dad bringing you?’ his voice is sharp, but underneath it, there’s something else. jealousy. frustration. something that makes your chest tighten.

you cross your arms, shifting your weight. ‘kenan, don’t—’

‘don’t what? act like i didn’t see how many guys suddenly started following you? or how you ignored my texts but had time to post?’

‘oh my god, are you serious right now?’ you let out a short, humorless laugh. ‘this is exactly why i didn’t want us to go public. the second people know, it becomes a thing.’

he steps closer, his jaw clenched. ‘this isn’t about people knowing. it’s about you acting like you don’t want to be seen with me.’

that hits harder than you expect. you open your mouth, then close it, unsure what to say.

kenan shakes his head. ‘you think hiding protects us, but all it does is push me away.’

you swallow hard, because deep down, you know he’s right.

‘you’re mine,’ he says, voice lower now, rough with emotion. ‘and i want people to know that. so tell me right now. do you want this or not?’

the answer is easy. it’s always been easy.

you step closer, press your hands to his chest, feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips. ‘of course i want this, kenan.’

his lips crash into yours before you can say anything else, months of frustration, longing, and unspoken words pouring into the kiss. he backs you against the wall, hands firm on your waist, like he’s trying to make up for every second he’s had to pretend you weren’t his.

when you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks. ‘good. because next time i look up in the stands, you better be there, and not because your dad brought you.’

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. ‘fine. but if i show up, i’m wearing your jersey.’

kenan grins, hands still tight on your waist. ‘now that’s what i like to hear.’

RIGHT. this is absolute blasphemy where are the joao fics at?? I SWEAR TO GOD yall are driving me insane like fym i have to write them MYSELF? excuse me. SO. send me joao requests if you wish because on god i’ve had enough of this nonsense 🤬. i miss when there was new fics every week like some of them were absolutely peak writing like i think ab that kiss me thru the phone fic every day #bringthatback 💔. @barcapix i love u pls don’t ever die bc i need you to make more fics b4 this flu sends me to heaven ❤️. OKAY LOVE YOU GUYS

Hector fort taking care of reader who had her period unprepared and is embarrassed about it cuz her ex used to get mad at her for it?

Maybe?

Perhaps?

(Idk how to request if you didn’t notice already 😭)

❦ - unexpected but never a problem.

summary:: what the req says.

warnings:: nooooone? cussing i think…?

writers notes:: i love you anon you’re so cute i saw it and instantly wrote it you’re adorable! anyways im not very good w requests so i really dunno if this is what you wanted but i hope u love it nonetheless? gimme feedback yg i beg 💔. ALSO I HAVE NO JOAO REQUESTS GIMME SOME PLSSS

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

you realize it too late.

the uncomfortable dampness, the slight cramping you brushed off earlier, the way hector’s hoodie, his favorite one, now feels impossibly heavy around your waist as you tie it there in a desperate attempt to hide the evidence.

you should have known. you should have been prepared. but your cycle has always been unpredictable, and with how distracted you’ve been lately, school, work, trying not to fall too hard for the boy currently walking beside you - you weren’t paying attention.

now, you’re hyperaware. of every step you take, of every shift in fabric, of how you can feel it, and god, you don’t even want to check. you don’t want to know how bad it is.

but the worst part? you know what happens next.

or, at least, you think you do.

‘you good?’ hector asks, nudging your shoulder gently.

his voice is casual, light, but you can hear the underlying concern. you’re usually more talkative, always teasing him about something, and now you’re barely saying a word.

you swallow hard. ‘yeah. just… tired.’

he doesn’t look convinced. he studies you for a second, his gaze flicking to the hoodie tied around your waist.

then he stops walking.

‘okay, what’s wrong?’

your stomach twists. ‘nothing, hector, i just..’

‘nah, you’re acting weird. did something happen?’

the worry in his voice only makes the knot in your throat worse. but what are you supposed to say? hey, i just bled through my clothes, and i’m freaking out because my ex used to act like it was the worst thing in the world whenever this happened?

your silence lasts a second too long.

hector frowns. then his eyes flick down again, just for a second, before realization dawns on his face.

your heart pounds.

this is it. this is where he pulls back, where he sighs in frustration, where he makes some offhand comment about how you should’ve planned better. you brace for it, already shrinking into yourself, already fighting back the burning embarrassment

but then he’s shrugging off his jacket.

before you can react, he steps closer, wrapping it securely around your waist, completely covering the hoodie. he makes quick work of tying the sleeves, knotting them tight like it’s second nature.

your breath catches.

‘there,’ he says easily, tugging once to make sure it’s secure. ‘you wanna go home?’

you blink. ‘…what?’

he gives you a look. ‘you’re clearly not comfortable. we can dip.’

he’s not mad. he’s not annoyed.

he’s just helping.

you stare at him, your chest tight, emotions tangling together too fast for you to process.

‘you don’t have to do all that,’ you mumble.

he shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘why wouldn’t i?’

you hesitate, fingers gripping the edge of the jacket now wrapped around you. ‘because it’s gross.’

his brow furrows. ‘who told you that?’

you freeze.

you don’t mean to react, but the words hit you like a gut punch. because you know who told you that. over and over again, in every careless remark, every sigh, every time he made you feel like something you couldn’t control was your fault.

and hector sees it.

he exhales, dragging a hand down his face, before looking at you again, softer this time.

‘listen, i don’t know who made you feel bad about this, but that’s bullshit. it’s not gross, it’s not your fault, and you sure as hell don’t need to be embarrassed about it.’ he shakes his head, muttering, ‘like, how do you even get mad at someone for having a body? that’s insane.’

you let out a breathy laugh, small, but real.

hector smirks. ‘there she is.’

you roll your eyes, but the knot in your chest loosens. ‘you’re stupid.’

‘nah, i just have common sense.’ he reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s the easiest thing in the world. ‘now, c’mon. let’s get you home.’

you don’t argue. you just squeeze his hand, let yourself lean into the warmth of him, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel ashamed.

Can you write a drabble/fic about Kenan coming to ask for your hand/your nikkah?

❦ - ‘and we created you in pairs.’

summary:: love is long, everyone knows but that’ll never stop kenan. your baba is a very stubborn man but kenan is always his favourite.

warnings:: none..?

writers note:: loving the islamic requests! i have another nikkah fic in my requests as well so i really hope you guys like it! and again ramadan mubarak 🤍. ‘and we created you in pairs.’ - al Qur’an 78:8.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

kenan had never been afraid of big moments.

he had played in front of thousands, taken penalties under pressure, carried his team when they needed him most. but standing outside your family’s home, palms damp and heart hammering in his chest, he felt something different. this wasn’t a match he could win with skill or speed. this was about sincerity, about proving himself in a way that no game ever could.

he inhaled deeply, exhaling a quiet bismillah before knocking on the door.

when your father answered, his expression was unreadable. kenan greeted him with a steady assalamu alaikum, the words feeling heavier than usual, like a bridge between where he stood and where he hoped to be.

your father stepped aside, letting him in without a word. kenan had been here before, but this time, everything felt different. the walls seemed taller, the space between the seats in the living room wider. your mother sat beside your father, her face softer, but still expectant.

he knew what they were waiting for.

so he sat with his back straight, hands resting on his knees, and met your father’s gaze.

‘i want to ask for her hand in marriage,’ he said, voice unwavering.

there was no point in hesitation. no point in dancing around it. he was here to be clear, to be honest, to ask for something he already knew in his heart was meant for him.

your father studied him, his silence pressing down on the room like a weight. then he leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.

‘why?’ he asked.

kenan had prepared for this, had thought of every possible way to explain how much he loved you, how much he respected you, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. but now, sitting here, words felt too small.

‘because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,’ he said, and the truth of it settled in his chest. ‘because she makes me a better man. because i want to build something real with her, something that pleases Allah, something that lasts. i want to protect her, support her, and never let her question how much she’s loved and valued.’

he didn’t look away. he let every word settle between them, let your father see the sincerity in his eyes.

your mother glanced at your father then, something unspoken passing between them. kenan caught the slight shift in your father’s posture, the way his fingers tapped against his knee as if weighing his next words.

‘this is a big responsibility,’ he finally said.

kenan nodded. ‘i know. and i’m ready for it.’

your father exhaled, long and slow. then he sat back, folding his arms. ‘a husband isn’t just someone who provides. he leads. he protects. he sacrifices. you say you’re ready, why do you believe that?’

kenan thought about all the things he could say. about how he had grown, how he had worked on himself, how he had prayed for this moment, for you. but instead, he spoke simply.

‘because loving her is easy. but making sure she’s loved the way she deserves, that’s the real work. and i’m willing to do it. every day.’

a silence stretched between them. it was your mother who smiled first, her expression warm, reassuring. your father was harder to read, his gaze sharp, searching. then, after what felt like forever, he gave a small, considering nod.

‘we’ll think about it.’

it wasn’t a yes.

but it wasn’t a no.

kenan let out a quiet breath, nodding in understanding. he knew this wasn’t something they would rush into. it wasn’t something they would take lightly. and he respected that, respected them for it.

but as he stepped out of your home, feeling the cool evening air on his face, he didn’t feel discouraged.

because he had taken the first step toward forever with you. and he would take as many as it took.

the days passed slowly. kenan kept himself busy, training, praying, waiting. he knew your family would take their time, that this wasn’t just about him but about their trust, their belief that he was the right man for you.

then, one evening, his phone buzzed.

a message from you.

come over. baba wants to talk.

he barely thought before moving, grabbing his keys, slipping on his shoes. his heart raced the whole way there, but his mind was calm. steady. whatever happened, he had put his heart on the table. that was all he could do.

when he arrived, your father was already waiting for him, sitting in the same spot as before. your mother was beside him, her expression unreadable. kenan greeted them both, sitting with the same quiet respect as last time.

your father exhaled, folding his hands together.

‘we’ve talked. we’ve thought about it. and we’ve prayed on it.’

kenan held his breath.

then

‘if she agrees, you have our blessing.’

relief hit him so hard he almost closed his eyes. he nodded, swallowing the sudden tightness in his throat.

‘thank you,’ he said, meaning it more than he could ever express. ‘thank you for trusting me with her.’

your father held his gaze, and for the first time, kenan saw it, the shift. the acceptance. the quiet approval behind his eyes.

and then, from the corner of the room, he heard soft footsteps.

he turned, and there you were.

standing in the doorway, eyes warm, a small smile playing on your lips.

his heart settled.

this was it.

this was the beginning of everything.

Hiii, would you write for Trent Alexander-Arnold?

❦ - headlines.

summary:: a day in the life w your boyfriend.

warnings:: made up match (just to make my uncle happy?)

writers note:: idk if this is a question or request but here you are!! also magui blocked me on tiktok and i’m honoured bc her ego can’t match her sensitivity! 🤍

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

trent was always the first to wake up. it didn’t matter if it was a matchday, an off day, or the rare chance to sleep in, his body was wired to rise with the sun. most mornings, he would slip out of bed quietly, careful not to wake you, and head downstairs to start his routine. but today, he stayed.

he turned onto his side, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. his arm draped over your waist, fingers brushing against the warm skin of your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. outside, the faint sounds of liverpool waking up drifted through the window, but inside, everything was still.

‘why’re you so close,’ you huffed out a laugh, barely opening your eyes as you reached back, fingers carding through his curls. ‘we’ve been together for years, trent. thought the novelty would’ve worn off by now.’

‘never.’ his voice was low, a little rough, and you shivered when he pressed a lazy kiss just beneath your jaw.

it would have been easy to stay in bed all day, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, but trent had training. you knew the exact moment he realized it too, his sigh was deep, reluctant, his grip tightening like he could somehow hold onto time if he held onto you tight enough.

‘you don’t have to go,’ you said, knowing he absolutely did.

‘don’t tempt me,’ he groaned, rolling onto his back and rubbing a hand over his face. ‘slott would kill me.’

‘probably,’ you admitted, stretching your legs before sitting up. ‘but imagine the headlines. “trent alexander-arnold skips training for a lie-in with partner.”’

‘bit long for a headline, that.’

‘fine. “trent’s in love.”’

his eyes softened as he looked at you, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile. ‘always.’

you never got tired of watching him play.

there was something about the way he moved, the way he saw the game differently from everyone else. the way he took risks that no one else would, because he knew he could make them work.

tonight was a big game. liverpool vs. man city. the kind of fixture that made your stomach twist with nerves, even though you weren’t the one stepping onto the pitch.

you sat in the stands, surrounded by familiar faces, players’ families, friends, all of you bound together by the same tension. trent had looked good in warm-ups, sharp and focused, but you knew him well enough to sense the pressure sitting on his shoulders.

when the match started, city came out strong, pressing high, forcing liverpool deep. trent was everywhere, tracking back, winning duels, threading passes between the lines. then, in the 32nd minute, it happened.

the ball broke loose in midfield. trent took a touch, lifted his head, and saw the opening before anyone else did. a perfect switch across the pitch, straight to salah’s feet. in a flash, salah was inside the box, cutting onto his left foot and curling it past the keeper.

anfield erupted.

trent didn’t celebrate much. he never did unless it was something special. but his eyes found you in the stands, and when you blew him a kiss, he gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod.

the game wore on. city equalized, then took the lead, but liverpool kept fighting. in the 85th minute, a free kick was awarded just outside the box.

your heart pounded as trent stepped up.

he took a breath, then struck the ball cleanly. it curled over the wall, dipped at the last second, and nestled into the bottom corner.

he turned on his heel, arms outstretched, letting the roar of anfield wash over him.

and then, without thinking, he ran straight to you.

he didn’t even hesitate, just climbed over the barriers and reached for you, his hands on either side of your face as he kissed you, hard, ignoring the cameras and the cheers and everything else.

when he pulled away, breathless, he grinned. ‘told you i’d make the headline.’

hiya!! could you write something for jamal Musiala about how you two being out and about in london, it’s a relatively warm spring day, you’re wearing a midi red polka dot dress, some docs paired with your miu miu ivy bag with cute charms on and jamal was wearing green baggy carhartt cargos, a black graphic tshirt, his go to black Nike cortez and a surpreme cap. You’re both wearing your matching jewelry (rosequartz bracelet) . His arm never leaves your waist, you’re snuggled into each other while walking and laughing about silly stuff your talking about or seeing on the street. You then go in for a kiss but his cap is in the way so he puts it on backwards, looking even more handsome, something about that backward cap is doing something to you, you quite frankly can’t stop staring and kissing him. in the middle of one kiss you’re getting interrupted by fans who want to take a picture, kindly accepting their request. You both have swollen and red lips from kissing and the most love sick smiles on your faces. Paparazzi and the internet goes crazy over you two.

Thank you :)

❦ - london days.

summary:: req says enough

warnings:: none.

writers notes:: idek what to say atp bro but it’s a cute concept i love it & also idk what happened but this didn’t save so this is rushed now

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the sun was shining brightly in london, a soft warmth filling the air as you strolled down the busy streets, hand in hand with jamal. it was one of those rare spring days where the warmth made everything feel light and easy. you couldn’t have asked for a better day.

you were both in your element, laughing, joking around, and just enjoying each other’s company. your red midi polka dot dress flowed gently around your legs as you walked, paired with your docs that added a little edge to your otherwise soft look. your miu miu ivy bag with its cute little charms swung lightly with every step. jamal, as always, looked effortlessly good. he was wearing his green baggy carhartt cargos, a black graphic t-shirt, and his usual black nike cortez. his supreme cap sat snugly on his head, completing the look.

but what made it all better was the way his arm never left your waist, how close he kept you, the way he pulled you into him like it was second nature. it was easy, familiar, like the most natural thing in the world.

‘you know,’ jamal said, a laugh in his voice, ‘i swear that guy just tried to sell me a “limited edition” air max for 500 pounds. i told him they weren’t even real’

you burst out laughing at the way he imitated the vendor, shaking your head. ‘you’re too nice, jamal. if i were you, i would’ve asked for a discount’

‘hey,’ he grinned, pulling you a little closer, ‘i’ve got a reputation to keep up. wouldn’t want to look too gullible’

you snorted, ‘right, right, so instead, you’re just gullible in a different way, got it’

he nudged you with his shoulder, his smile still wide. he made everything feel easy, like nothing in the world could go wrong as long as you were together.

as you turned a corner, the moment felt perfect. the streets of london were busy, but none of it really mattered. you were so wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world just faded into the background.

without thinking, you reached up to kiss him, but his cap got in the way, pressing against your forehead. he laughed, pulling back just enough to flip it backwards in one quick motion.

and something about that made you stop.

he somehow looked even better like this. the way the cap sat on his head, the effortless confidence in the way he adjusted it, your heart skipped a beat.

without thinking, you kissed him again, your hands finding their way to his face as he smiled against your lips. he kissed you back just as eagerly, his hands resting on your waist, holding you there like he never wanted to let go.

but then, just as you were completely lost in him, voices interrupted the moment.

‘excuse me, could we take a picture with you two?’

you pulled away, cheeks warm, lips slightly swollen. jamal looked at you, his expression just as dazed as yours, before turning to the fans with a grin.

‘of course’

they quickly snapped a few pictures, giggling and thanking you both. you tried to compose yourself, smoothing down your dress, though you could still feel the ghost of jamal’s lips on yours.

‘thanks for being so nice,’ one of them said, smiling as they walked away.

as soon as they were gone, you looked up at jamal. his lips were still a little red from kissing you, and his cheeks had a faint flush. he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

‘you okay?’ you teased, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

he grinned, eyes soft. ‘yeah. just… getting used to this whole public couple thing’

you laughed, but you both knew it was true. the internet and paparazzi had already caught onto you two, and the pictures were probably spreading like wildfire. people loved the way you two looked together, how natural and real it seemed.

but none of that mattered. all that mattered was the way he was still holding onto you, how he wasn’t letting go.

you kept walking, still laughing, still holding each other close. the spring day had just gotten a whole lot better.

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.

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

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

❦ - promises && rain.

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

warnings:: angst ofc 😔.

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

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

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

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

notification: instagram - leah added to their story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'please talk to me.'

'i’m sorry. i messed up.'

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

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

until the knock came.

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

'please... just open the door.'

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

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

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

'kenan—'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❦ - table for 2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'we’re not…’ you started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'only if you’re ready to lose.'

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

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

'best worst idea,' you said.

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

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

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

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

'guess you’ll have to deal with it.'

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

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

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

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

'figured,' you whispered back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'glad you asked me to share a table.'

he grinned. 'felt like fate.'

'maybe it was.'

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

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

you smirked. 'been acting like it.'

'yeah, but, labels and all that.'

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

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

'better not,' you teased.

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

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