Girl I’m OBSESSED With Your Gavi Fluff Omggg

UGHH the things this man makes me wanna do is soooo i just wanna bite his hands bro THOSE VEINNNSSS OMDSSSS🥴🥴

I want him to look at me like that bro like stawppp😝😝🤪

can you make one with Guille Fernandez again, where the reader is Hector Fort's little sister

fluff

❦ - hermanita.

summary:: what the req says.

warnings:: none?

writers notes:: istg on all upcoming fics, unless the req doesn’t explain what it is/i have free will, im gonna remove the summary section

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

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he knew from the beginning.

not because you told him, but because he’s your brother.

hector sees everything.

he noticed the way guille looked at you one afternoon in the kitchen, like he’d never seen anyone laugh so easily.
he noticed how you always sat beside guille on the couch now. how your voice changed when you said his name.
he noticed the lingering silence between you two when he walked into the room, like the air had shifted and neither of you had learned how to play it cool yet.

so one day he just… said it.

‘if you’re gonna date her, tell me. don’t be a coward about it.’

you and guille had frozen at the same time, like kids caught stealing candy.

but then guille stood up, cleared his throat, and said

‘i care about her. i wouldn’t touch her heart if i wasn’t serious about it.’

hector stared at him for a long second.
then shrugged.

‘don’t break her. that’s all.’

it wasn’t easy after that, but it was open.

no more hiding glances. no more awkward silences.

guille would text you mid-training with a ‘miss you already’ and hector would just roll his eyes.
guille would come over and sit next to you on the floor, and your brother would say something like ‘you have your own house, fernández.’
but it was light. teasing. tolerable.

because deep down, hector trusted him.

he’d known guille since they were kids.
shared locker rooms and long bus rides.
he knew what kind of man he was becoming.

and even if it drove him crazy to see you holding hands with his best friend, he knew you were safe.

one night, guille walked you home after a quiet dinner out. he held your hand the whole way.

when you reached the door, he looked at you for a long second before saying,
‘do you ever wish it was someone else?’

you frowned. ‘what?’

‘someone who wasn’t your brother’s best friend. someone easier. less complicated.’

you didn’t even hesitate.

‘never. i don’t care how complicated it is. it’s you. it’s always been you.’

and guille kissed you, soft and grateful, like he still couldn’t believe he got to have you, out in the open, without having to pretend.

inside, hector watched you both through the window.
sighed.

then muttered to himself

‘you better marry her.’

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.'

Hi! Sorry to bother you

Can i ask for one of joao were reader helps him to forget about his ex but later she founds out They are still talking from time to time but Its actually no how she thinks? Like angst with reader being totally insecure but with happy ending

Thank you!!

❦ - silver springs.

summary:: he said he was over her. u believed him, until u saw her name light up his phone. you tried not to care. but it’s hard to love someone who still lives in their past. you just wanted to be chosen. fully. completely. loudly. and in the end… he did.

warnings:: angst?

writers notes:: TIME CAST A SPELL ON ME. BUT YOU WONT FORGET ME? anyways yea

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

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you didn’t ask about her.

not when he first told you there was someone. not when his voice got tight talking about her. not when you noticed the way he paused before answering questions like “how long were you in love with her?”

you just listened. held his hand. let him exist without pressure. because god, you knew what heartbreak looked like, and his had barely scabbed over when you walked in.

you didn’t ask for more than what he could give. just stayed close enough to be steady. never too much. never too loud.

and he started smiling again.

he laughed with you. he kissed you like he meant it. he held you like he didn’t want to let go.

so you told yourself it was real.

even when something in your chest whispered, not quite.

even when his phone would light up with her name late at night and he’d pretend he didn’t see it.

you found out accidentally.

you weren’t snooping. not really. you were just grabbing his charger off his nightstand while he showered, and his phone buzzed, and it was instinct to glance. just a glance.

"hey. i saw your interview. you looked good."
from her.

your stomach dropped.

you didn’t open the chat. didn’t need to. your hands were already shaking.

you hadn’t heard her name in months. he hadn’t mentioned her in even longer.

and now… this?

your mind spiraled quietly. you didn’t say anything when he came out of the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips, smile lazy and soft when he saw you. you smiled back.

but it didn’t reach your eyes.

you started noticing more after that.

the way he’d text with his phone tilted away from you. the way he’d get quiet sometimes, scrolling, jaw tense. the way he’d answer a call in the other room and come back like nothing happened.

it could’ve been anyone.
but it wasn’t.
you knew.

still, you didn’t say a word.

you started pulling away in small ways. cancelling plans. not staying the night. letting his calls go to voicemail. when he noticed, you just said you were tired. busy. nothing’s wrong.

and he believed you.

or maybe he didn’t. maybe he was just waiting for you to say it.

you almost did one night, when he took you to dinner and held your hand the whole time and kissed your forehead and said “i love you” like it was a truth he’d always known.

your heart cracked.

because you wanted to believe him.

but her name still sat in your bones. still itched under your skin. still whispered you’re second best. always were.

you cried that night when he fell asleep beside you, arms around your waist, breath warm on your neck.

silent tears. shaking shoulders.

he didn’t wake up.

you told yourself you were overreacting.

that maybe they were just friends. maybe they talked sometimes and it didn’t mean anything. maybe he’d moved on and you were the one stuck.

but you knew what heartbreak looked like.
you knew what grief looked like.
and sometimes, you still saw it in his eyes.

like he was still waiting for her shadow to disappear.

and you?
you were just holding the light.

you didn’t mean to see it.

again, you weren’t looking.

you were sitting on his couch one rainy afternoon, one of those quiet days where the world feels far away. he was in the kitchen making you tea, hoodie sleeves pushed up, soft music playing from his phone.

it buzzed once.

then again.

your name was on the mug he was holding.

her name was on the screen.

and you looked. again.

"still can’t believe it’s you in the red kit. i always thought you'd wear blue."
"you still look good."

your hands curled into fists.

it was always her.

her voice in his phone.
her ghost in his ribs.
her name on the edge of every silence.

you stood before you could think about it. grabbed your coat. didn’t wait.

you didn’t answer when he called.

not that night. not the next morning. not after the fifth voicemail where his voice got quieter, sadder, more confused.

you couldn’t do it.

you couldn’t be the one he loved when he was lonely. the one who kissed him back while he kept someone else alive in the back of his mind.

you weren’t a substitute. you weren’t a second choice.

you wanted to be the one.

he showed up three days later.

hair a mess, hoodie half-zipped, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept since you left.

you didn’t open the door at first.

he knocked once. then again.

then softly: ‘please, baby.’

and you opened it. because even though you were angry. even though your chest ached. even though your pride begged you not to—

you still loved him.

and he looked at you like he was afraid you didn’t anymore.

‘why didn’t you tell me you still talk to her?’

his face fell.

he didn’t lie. he didn’t deflect. he just said quietly, ‘because i knew how it would look.’

you didn’t speak.

‘i should’ve told you,’ he said. ‘but i didn’t know how. i didn’t want to hurt you.’

‘but you did.’

he looked down. ‘i know.’

he stepped closer, hands open, not touching.

‘i don’t love her anymore,’ he said.

you blinked.

‘i don’t want her back. she was my past. you—’ he exhaled. ‘you’re my now. my always, if you’ll let me be that.’

‘then why talk to her at all?’

he hesitated. then, gently:
‘because closure’s not always clean. sometimes it lingers. sometimes people try to keep a piece of you even when they shouldn’t.’

‘and you let her?’

his eyes met yours. honest. hurting.

‘i let her talk. but i didn’t answer back in the ways that matter. not anymore. not since you.’

you didn’t say anything for a long time.

the rain tapped on the windows. the silence filled every crack in your chest.

then you whispered, ‘do you still think about her?’

‘not the way i think about you.’

he reached out. touched your hand.

‘when you laugh,’ he said, ‘i don’t think of her. when you fall asleep on my chest, i’m not dreaming of anyone else. when you kiss me, i forget what it felt like to lose before you.’

tears filled your eyes.

‘i never wanted to be a replacement, joão.’

‘you’re not,’ he said, voice breaking. ‘you’re everything i didn’t know i needed.’

you let him hold you after that.

not because it fixed everything.

but because love, real love, is messy. it stumbles. it bleeds. it breaks open and still reaches forward.

and he reached for you.

held you like he’d never let go again.

whispered i’m sorry into your hair a hundred times.

kissed you like he meant forever.

and maybe it wouldn’t always be perfect.

but for the first time, it was real.

and this time, it was yours.

can u do a pau fic where he’s sitting down and reader comes to stand between his legs and he puts his hands on the back of her thighs (yk the thing that guys do idk how to explain it🤣) and her hands around his neck playing with his hair. and he just looks so in love and smiley and looking up and her and just listening to her speak.

maybe it’s at team dinner or something at the camp and everyone is like awww and teasing.

❦ - your hands.

warnings:: none

writers notes:: it’s safe to say that i didn’t survive yesterday and im sat at my desk at 7am rn and i’m chugging red bull

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

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it’s loud in the restaurant, glasses clinking, plates being passed, laughter bouncing off every corner of the table.

but none of it really matters.

because pau’s sitting in the middle of it all, quietly zoned out, eyes only on you.

you’d gotten up to grab something off the far end of the table, weaving through teammates and chairs and banter, and somehow ended up standing right between his knees as you reached across the table.

and instead of shifting or moving back, he just rests his hands gently on the backs of your thighs. casual. warm. his.

your breath catches just a little.

you glance down at him and smile, hands instinctively finding his shoulders, then sliding up into his hair.

his hair is soft. his eyes are softer.

and god, he’s looking at you like you’re made of light.

like he’s not in the middle of a team dinner with half the squad watching.

like you’re the only sound he hears.

you start rambling about something, what someone said earlier, a joke he missed, how chaotic the other end of the table is.

and he just listens.

quiet smile on his lips. fingers still tracing slow, lazy shapes on the backs of your thighs. head tilted just slightly so he can look up at you better.

he nods at all the right moments, gives little mhm’s and amused half laughs, but mostly?

he’s just watching.

like he’s memorizing you. like he already has.

someone down the table calls his name.

he doesn’t even flinch.

you finally stop talking, a little breathless, a little shy under his stare.

‘what?’ you whisper, laughing softly. ‘why are you looking at me like that?’

he just smiles.

‘you’re the best part of my night. that’s all.’

and yeah. you feel it. all the way down to your fingertips.

could u do anything for Joao Felix🙏🙏

✮ Miles 2 get 2 You - João Felix

João Felix x Fem!Student!Reader

SY: your mood is determined by your boyfriend’s habits, and you find yourself in a depressive state; however when your friends catch on that you’re not doing too good.. he’s one phone call away.

A/N: i have seen your other request ip! & it’s half done but im just struggling to finish it 🥲

Warnings: this is more wordy than how i would usually write (?)

Monday morning.

The worst kind of morning.

It was 9:01am, as you stumbled late into class, tripping over your own shoes as you made your way to your seat. Your body felt like lead as you dragged your way up, vision blurring at the edges of your eyes from sheer exhaustion.

This was your fourth late to Sr. Pieria's class this week, but he meerly glanced your way as if he was unbothered.

Collapsing between Clara and Maria, you let your textbooks crash onto the desk with a thud that made several classmates jump. Your heart felt as heavy as your eyelids, and the fluorescent lights above were piercing daggers into your skull.

Last nights 5am spiral wasn't exactly... ideal.

You’d spent hours worrying about everything: your worth, your relationship with João, and how everything felt like it was falling apart.

Ever since your second trimester began, you’d been pushed from London to Manchester to finalize your Sociology degree. 163 miles apart from João, and now… it felt like he was slipping away.

The last text he ever shot you with was a measly 'goodnight' two days ago - that now flipped into three.

You shiver at the thought.

Why were you still waiting for him to reply?

“Hey y/n, are you okay?” Maria's voice broke you out of your thoughts, shooting you a worried smile."You look like you're gonna pass out. When's the last time you actually slept?"

“Today.” you manage to mutter weakly.

"Your phone light was still on at 3am hon." Clara rubs your shoulder, her touch cool against your burning skin.

"I wouldn't exactly call 2 hours of sleep... sleep."

You glance down, unsure what to say. You had no appetite, no energy to focus and the iron tablets were the only thing keeping you semi-functional.

“Y/n!" your professor booms. "Could you tell me Planck’s equation? We discussed it yesterday.”

Great, yesterday.

You barely remember what you had to eat last night, never-mind a whole 24 hours ago. You stare down at the notebook in-front of you, desperately scrambling through the pages.

A few seconds passed, but it felt like hours, and still—nothing.

There silence in the room seemed to stretch, only the sound of your fingertips gliding through the paper; your cheeks flushing with frustration.

The words on the page suddenly seem to blur, hot floods of water pricking at the brim of your eyes. Your brain was foggy, and the build up of emotions from the last couple days had slowly taken advantage of you - plummeting you into a vunerable void.

You did know the answer. So why couldn't you say it?

“It’s E = hf, sir.” a boy near the front snickers. “Somebody ought to pay attention to the class.”

Your professor sighed, disappointed. “You should of knew that y/n, I expected better from you."

You didn't look up, your face burning with embarrasment.

Maria grimaced, turning your way. "Did you at least eat anything this morning? You’re looking freakishly pale."

"Wow thanks." you sigh and pull your sleeves over your wrists.

The truth?

No you hadn't eaten - hardly any mornings even.

"Y/n, I'm really worried about you," Clara whispered, "You've changed recently, you don't seem like... y/n. Not the one we know."

"No Clara, I'm fine. I just wasn't hungry today alright?" you snap.

She pouts softly still gazing into the side of your face. "Your never hungry babe, do I need to call Joa-"

"No." you say firmly, as a few of your peers glare at the three of you.

"He might be able to help-"

"No." you repeat hushed. "He's busy, there's no point."

The last thing you wanted to do was involve Joao, especially with what was happening.

Maria went to protest, until you cut her off by retorting. "I'm fine. I don't need any help, from anyone."

You let out a sharp breath, scribbling doodles on the corner of your page. You felt bad for snapping at them in such a way, but your life was just a blur.

A blur of not sleeping, running late, failing grades, and a measly 'goodnight' text from your boyfriend 3 days ago to cling onto.

{…}

After the two long hours, the second bell rang for your next class.

You quickly gathered your things into your arms, dizzily stumbling you way along the hallway to Sr. Silva's lecture.

As you pass a nearby window, you briefly glanced at your reflection: dark purple under-eyes, severely dry lips, somewhat messy hair falling over your forehead, with your untucked shirt draping low over your skirt.

God, you did look awful.

"Hey y/n! Wait!"

Clara came jogging from behind, a playful smile gracing her lips.

"What Clara?" you look down at your watch, "I have sociology in like 3 minutes." you grunt, just wanting to be alone.

"Could you just do me a favour? Just run into our dorm and get my lanyard? I think I left it on your dresser by accident." she replies sweetly, the corner of her lips curling.

She hands her the key-card for your room, and you hesitantly accept it whilst hoisting your bag strap further along your shoulder.

"Why cant you get it?"

"I have to just.. sort out my folder. Y'know all the sheets of paper Sr. Silva gives us." she laughs and you blankly stare at her.

The grin on her lips made you suspicious, as she was also bouncing on the heels of her feet - but then again, Clara was always so bubbly in the weirdest situations.

"Alright, fine." you grumble.

"Thanks!" her smile widening. "I'll wait right here for you."

You give the blonde a half-hearted smile before following your usual footsteps back to your room, quickly scanning the card on the handle and clicking the door shut behind you.

The room was cold, with a familar scent wavering through the air. At first you blink, your mind instantly travelling to your boyfriend, who at second thought, wouldn’t travel this far during his schedule.

You took a step further into the room, when your heart froze.

Standing in-front of you, looking as surprised as you felt, was Joao.

"Amor?" he asked softly, standing up. His eyes were searching yours, for something he seemed to endlessly miss.

"João?" you whispered, your voice breaking with each syllable.

The brunette nodded, stepping closer with his arms opening to pull you into his tight embrace. You didn't know what to say, your throat swollen with emotion.

Joao snaked his arms around your neck, his lips on your temple.

"I had to see you," he murmured against your skin. "I couldn't stay away from you for one more second."

You couldn't speak. You just leaned in closer to him with your chin on his shoulder and you clasp your eyes shut as you let unshed tears slide.

"Deus, senti tanto a tau falta." (god i missed you so much)

“I missed you too,” you cry, letting more tears fall.

The weight of the past few days - everything that you were holding back, had melted at his touch.

João's hands slid down to your waist, his thumbs gently brushing away your tears as if he needed to prove to you that he was really there.

"Eu te amo muito, querida." (I love you so much darling)

The bell rung somewhere far away, the floods of students outside sounding so distant, but he held you closer, tighter, with his lips finding yours.

The kiss was soft and feverish, slightly salty with the tears still pooling from your eyes. João cradled your body protectively, rubbing circles to the back of your hair.

"I never want to be away from you again," he ensured, his voice also cracking. "I don't care what happens. We'll make this work."

You felt your knees weaken, threatening to buckle beneath you, but your boyfriend's hold kept you safe.

Clara was probably giggling to Maria somewhere, secretly congratulating themselves on their plan, but you couldn't care less.

Not now, not ever.

Feeling his heartbeat sync with yours, everything else faded away - every worry, every ounce of pain, exhaustion.

For the first time in days, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

[this was rushed forgive me🙏🏼]

i know who you pretend i am

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: catalan author aroa ferrer is about to be translated into spanish. to promote her book, her publisher has the worst idea possible: a pr relationship with a heartthrob footballer.

masterlist // series masterlist // i do not take requests

"Uhm, where is the bathroom?" Asked Gavi. His hands were sweating and he wanted to fix his hair before the meeting. He was nervous, more than he was when he had play in front of millions of people.

This was different. This made him vulnerable.

"That corridor to the left has the gender neutral bathrooms," explained the woman at the reception counter. Gavi thanked her quietly and walked toward the corridor she had pointed to.

The bathroom was empty, except for a girl in the farthest sink away, who was covering her face with her hands and quietly sniffling.

"I'm sorry," he stumbled, taking a step back. Maybe he could come back later.

"No, it's okay." The girl didn't look at him, scurrying pass him, almost running away from the place. It left Gavi with a bitter taste in his mouth. What had that girl so upset?

He didn't think too much about it, though. He had his own things to worry about.

💙❤️

Iván put a hand on his shoulder when they were finally called up.

The offer had reached Gavi as a passing comment. Iván had heard that Roses Editorial was searching for a guy to be in a PR relationship with one of their more successful writers. The agent was offering the opportunity to his other clients, who were footballers of a smaller caliber than Gavi, when media attention was concerned.

Gavi would have usually not even considered an arrangement like that. His dating life was his business and his business only, but after a rough break up he needed to do something drastic.

"Hombre, I didn't think you'd be interested," admitted Iván. "You never want to do stuff like this..."

Gavi had shrugged.

"Just let me look a bit into this before I fully accept," asked Gavi. "Do you have the girl's name?"

"Aroa Ferrer," said Iván. "There are no pictures of her on the Internet, but you can check her book if you want."

Gavi frowned. He wondered if Iván noticed it was a bit strange that agirl with no public photos on the Internet was ready to go on a PR stunt like this, but he said nothing.

Gavi had bought the book, which was in Catalan, and actually read it. Going though the pages was quite different than completing his high school assignments. In school, he had loathed the language. Teachers were strict, the grammatical and orthographic rules made no sense, and he was in a clear disadvantage against his native speaking classmates. But Aroa's book was entertaining, the plot, the characters. It made him forget he was actually reading in a second language.

Aroa's second book was in Spanish. It had been published a few days earlier and was flying off the shelves in all the bookstores of the country. The publishing house wanted to take advantage of the rush, and use the publicity of a PR stunt to drive people's eyes towards the first book's Spanish translation.

Gavi walked to the office awkwardly. By the desk, Ferrer's agent and Roses' marketing manager were waiting for them. On the other side of the room, by the corner, arms crossed and jaw set, was the girl from the bathroom.

It took Gavi less than a second to figure out he had walked into a war zone, and that the room was divided. Iván, who either didn't notice, or ignored it, walked to the men in suits by the desk.

The men seemed to be delighted to see him. Gavi was sure that when they started asking around for an interested party, they never thought they could bag someone of Gavi's prophile. He could see the Euro signs in their eyes.

Gavi looked back at Aroa. Her jaw was set and he gaze was averted. Having the freedom to map out her face, Gavi was stunned with how pretty she was. Short brown hair curled to down to her chin, pink lips, curled in a pissed off expression, green eyes guarded and harsh.

She looked like she wanted to kill everyone in the room.

"Hi," he greeted shyly, when he caught her gaze. She replied with a short head gesture.

"C'mon, c'mon, sit, sit, Gavi." The men there were adamant in having him be as comfortable as possible. They really wanted to sway his will towards whatever they wanted to do. "Meet Aroa, she will be your partner in this operation. Excuse her behavior, she's not done throwing her tantrum yet."

Aroa clenched her jaw.

She definitely looked too pissed off for it be "just a tantrum". Suddenly, Gavi didn't think this was the best idea. Something about the men and the way they talked about their author, the fact that she was clearly distressed and nobady seemed to care.

"Aroa, sit next to him, I want to see you two together," demanded the agent. She obeyed, walking briskly and dropping next to him on the couch. Gavi could feel the tension in her muscles.

"Are you okay?" He asked, worriedly. It took Aroa a few seconds to figure out he was talking to her.

"Could be worse," she said, her face softening a little. Her eyes were prettier up close, he noticed.

"Alright, so, the idea is to have you two appear to be a couple in public, so that Aroa's book sells in the rest of Spain," said the agent.

"We also wanted something from this relationship," announced Iván.

"Of course." Both men seemed to find that completely reasonable. "What do you need?"

"Gavi broke up with his girlfriend a month ago. She's still posting indirect statements that reflect badly on him. Once the break up is announced, we would benefit of Aroa speaking kindly of him, at least a couple of times," explained Iván. Gavi flinched. The issues with Alicia had been many, specially after the break up. When she started posting, he and Iván had agreed to ignore the situation completely, but now that Gavi had been open to this scheme, it was logical that his agent wanted to take advantage of it.

Aroa rised her eyebrow, tension returning to her body.

"You're not like, abusive, right?" She asked bluntly. "I won't go against a victim just to clean you image.”

"I can promise you it's nothing like that," reassured Iván. "Alicia is just a little bit immature."

Gavi shook his head. That argument was doing nothing to quench Aroa's doubts.

"We fought during the break up," he explained. "Alicia wanted us to spend more time together, but I ignored her, sometimes even on purpose, to focus on football. If anything, all her complaints about me are about how I'm too immature and childish for a woman like her. That sort of thing."

Aroa seemed to find his explanation more plausible.

"If I learn that you did something bad to her..."

"I promise you I didn't," insisted Gavi. She finally nodded.

"Well, the relationship should be announced slowly, we don't want to overwhelm the public," continued the manager. Gavi had not caught his name, and he realised he did not want to.

"Yes, maybe Aroa should go to a couple of games, and you should be seen with the book somewhere..." agreed the agent, looking at Gavi.

"But how are we going to tie her face to her name? There are no pictures of you available on the Internet," interrupted Gavi.

"That's because my face should not be necessary to sell a fucking book," replied Aroa. Gavi tensed. During the whole time, Aroa had seemed tense, pissed off. But he now was starting so see the reason.

"Well, you refused to do tik toks, so this is your next option, young lady," reminded her the manager. Something churned on Gavi's stomach.

"My target audience is not on booktok," she complained.

"It will be if we say so," insisted the manager. "You wrote a roamce book, you can't be picky about your public."

"Wait, you don't want to be doing this?" Asked Gavi, fully tuning his body to watch her. By the corner of the eye, he saw Iván's expression souring.

"No. Not really. I want my books to sell because they are good, not because I'm some dude's girlfriend." Aroa explained. Gavi recognised the glint of ambition and pride on her eyes. He had the same feeling surrounding his career. He was liked and valued because he was a good footballer, not because he was pretty.

"Then why are you here?" Asked Iván, concerned.

"I don't have a choice."

"Her contact stipulates that marketing decisions lay on the Editoral. We were already kind enough to listen to her when she rejected booktok, we won't do that again," explained the manager. Gavi felt like throttling him.

"Well, Gavi and I need to reconsider the offer..." Iván stood up, and gestured Gavi to do the same. "This information changes a lot of things for us..."

Gavi spared one last worried glance to Aroa before slipping out of the room, following Iván.

"That was..."

"Defiently unethical," finished Iván. "I can't believe they think they have the right..."

Aroa rushed through the corridors catching them before they reached the elevators. She grabbed Gavi by the arm, desperation obvious on her eyes.

"Wait, please." There were tears streaming down her pink cheeks. "I... please. Stay. They will carry on with this plan with or without you, and I... I would rather have to do it with you, knowing that you care, and are kind, that to do it with whoever new they find, someone that agrees with their thinking." She explained.

Gavi did not doubt on wrapping jus arms around her, pressing her to his chest. Aroa buried her face on his shoulder, her tears wetting the fabric of his shirt.

"Alright," Gavi looked at Iván over her shoulder. His face was troubled, but Gavi could see that he agreed with him. They would take the offer, even if it was just to protect Aroa Ferrer.

💙❤️

"I'm so sorry for getting you into this mess," said Aroa when she let Gavi in on her apartment. She had kicked out Inés, her best friend, so they could talk peacefully.

"It's okay, though. I kind of want to do it, you know?" Gavi put his hands on his pockets. Now that she's allowing herself to look at him, Aroa could admit that he was pretty handsome. "I'd rather help you, that see you in a fake relationship with some scumbag in a few months and wonder if you're okay every day."

"Still. You shouldn't be worrying about it."

Gavi shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. Aroa couldn't fathom how he found the whole ordeal so... irrelevant, to the course of his life, but he was not putting his ambition at risk so that was that.

She led him to her kitchen, were she had prepared two bowls of simple tomato pasta.

"I wasn't sure what you could or could not eat..." she explained. "So I played it safe."

"Smells so good," he complimented. "I love pasta, specially before a match."

Aroa smiled, pleased.

💙❤️

"So this thing... we can have it be quiet, right?" Asked Gavi, helping Aroa do the dishes.

"I'm not sure they want it to be quiet..." she told him. Edgar and Toni were like dogs with a bone, and Gavi was a very succulent bone.

"But I can demand that it is." He replied, confidently. "They need it to be me, no one is going to give them any more clout than I do," Aroa flinched. "I have power here."

"Alright," she said. "What do you have in mind?"

"Like Iván said, you come to a few of my matches, we get someone to spot you. I carry your books around a couple of times. Then we get caught kissing somewhere, maybe a restaurant or a park, something romantic. A couple of insta stories on the same place at the same time and done. We stop following each other on social media, don't interact in public and everyone will figure out we've broken up. Easy."

"Easy." Aroa repeated, finishing drying a dish.

"Yeah, easy." Gavi seemed proud of his plan."

"There is only one problem," she said. "I've never kissed anyone."

"Oh."

It was obvious Gavi did not expect that.

"Never?" He croaked. Aroa shook her head, a little bit embarrassed. She was about to turn twenty one, and no one had ever deemed her pretty enough for a kiss. "You didn't want to or..."

It was cute that Gavi thought she had chosen that. Aroa shrugged.

"Just never happened for me."

There was a heavy silence, in which Aroa avoided eye contact, turning her face away from Gavi, until she felt his hands gently cupping her cheeks.

"I could... we could kiss now," he offered. "So your first kiss isn't everywhere on the Internet. And so we know what to do when the moment comes or in an emergency."

Aroa took a shaky breath, lifting her gaze to look at him. Gavi's big eyes were dark, his lips parted as he studied her face. He wanted to do it, she realised, startled. Whether it was a stupid bout of desire or wanting to be kind she was not sure.

But she nodded, accepting the offer.

His lips met hers softly at first. Small kisses to help her figure out what was going on. But as Aroa grew in confidence, her arms lifting to grip his shoulders, her lips moving against his, the kiss deepened. Gavi gripped her waist, their hips colliding as he squished her against the sink. Aroa rised a hand to the back of his head as his tongue went inside her mouth.

"I thought it was supposed to be fake?" Inés' voice startled them into separating.

"We're just rehearsing," came out of Aroa's mouth, as she touched her tingling lips with the tip of her fingers. Kissing was nice, she decided.

Inés snorted leaving her purse by the couch.

"Sure, at least he's the hot one," she commented, before disappearing into her room. Gavi blushed, to Aroa's delight.

💙❤️

Gavi went back home excitedly. His lips were still tingling from the kiss, his heart still beating hard from all the adrenaline. They were doing this. They were so fucking doing this.

But there was one thing he needed to do first. He found his family gathered in the living room, but they tackled the issue before he could open his mouth.

"Since when do you read?" Asked Aurora. She was holding Aroa's book. "And since when do you speak Catalan?"

"I wouldn't have a high school diploma if I didn't speak Catalan," he replied taking his coat off. His cheeks are already pink. "I've lived here for almost a decade, I'm not that stupid."

"But reading a romance book?" Insisted Aurora.

"Stop annoying your brother," reprimanded their mother. "God knows I've tried to get him to read for years..."

His dad, though, had a knowing smile on his face.

"Where were you, boy?"

"I, eh... that is what u wanted to talk about with all of you. I was... eh, I was on a date." He blurted.

Aurora's mouth dropped.

"So soon after Alicia?"

"Yeah. I know it seems precipitated, but I have a great feeling about this..."

"Gavi, dear, it's better if you wait a little. At least as a curtesy. Alicia deserves better..."

"Well, for as long as Alicia doesn't hear..." decided Aurora. "We can pretend like they started dating six months after the break up or something..."

"She's coming to my game next week." Said Gavi, squashing their planning. "And I asked her to wear my jersey." He had not actually, but he was sure it would be the easiest way to link her to him, if she was spotted alone in the stands with the rest of the families.

"That's a bit soon. It took you quite a while to go public with Alicia..."

"I'm sure of what I'm doing," replied Gavi, squaring his shoulders. "I like Aroa a lot. I want her—"

"We don't even know this girl," protested his mother. "How do you know that she isn't after your fame?"

'Because I caught her having a panic attack at the thought of using me for my fame,' he thought, but said nothing.

"Why is it so hard to trust my judgement?" He asked. He felt like he was setting Aroa up to be hated by his family, once they broke of the arrangement.

"If you feel lonely, I'm sure Alicia..."

"I don't want Alicia, Aurora," he snapped. "I want Aroa." As he spoke, Gavi realised he was saying the truth. "I really want to try this with her. She's sweet and smart and accomplished. She wrote that fucking book!" He pointed at the book that was still in Aurora's hands. "And I liked it! And I hate reading, and I struggle with Catalan! That is how good she is."

"We're gonna have to meet this girl," spoke his father then. "Before the match. Ask her when she can come for dinner."

Shit.

💙❤️

"You didn't tell your parents it was a PR deal?" Said Aroa and Iván almost at the same time.

Gavi covered his face with his hands.

"They've been worried about the break up with Alicia. They liked her a lot, always asked if we are going to get back together. Aurora actually still meets with her, I'm sure." He explained. "I thought that maybe... I could use this to make them forget about my thing with Alicia, I don't know."

Iván sighed. He was used to Gavi's impulsive decision making, but Aroa was looking at him totally puzzled.

"Alright," she said. "I'm free every night next week."

"You're actually accepting?"

"You're making me a huge favour, not letting me do this with some random reggetón singer. How bad can a family dinner be?"

"If my sister suspects you're after my money, it can be quite awful," he warned.

"Then let's think of it as warm up, for when this thing hits the news."

At that moment, Gavi could have kissed her.

"Okay, you two need to fix that stuff alone," decided Iván standing up from the kitchen table of Aroa's apartment, taking the folder with him. After a second meeting with her publishers, the three of them had gone to her house to discuss the details form their more ethical point of view. "I'll give this to my friends. They will call you by the end of the week," he told Aroa.

Iván had offered to send the manuscript of her third book to some agents he knew, who specialised on publishing. They also had good ties with foreign publishing houses, and could get her translated to other languages apart from Spanish or Catalan, like English, French or German.

💙❤️

"Do they really hate me?" Asked Aroa once they reached his home. She was squeezing a box of homemade cookies against her chest, nerves finally kicking in.

"They... liked Alicia a lot. And they distrust any girl that attempts anything with me. So this is more like an exam..."

"Great." Gavi almost snorted at her ironic remark. She had come out of her shell slowly, but it was fun to banter with her now.

Inside, they were greeted by his father first. He looked soft, like a teddy bear. He took the cookies from Aroa with a smile on his face, as he led them to the kitchen, as if this wasn't Gavi's house too.

There, they found his mother, who was a little bit more cautious around Aroa. She still smiled and was very polite, but Aroa could tell she was being watched.

Aurora would clearly he the hardest one to win over. She smiled curtly, but kept the interactions at the minimum. Aroa took a step closer to Gavi instinctively. He put his hand on her hip as he talked to his dad, something about the cookies being 100% acceptable by Barça's nutritionist standards.

"You made them?"

"Yeah!" His mother nodded appreciatively. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard.

💙❤️

"They definitively hate me," whispered Aroa once they were alone in his room. She picked her pyjamas from the bag she had prepared to spend the night.

"Okay, it could have gone better," admitted Gavi, sitting in bed.

Even if his father seemed to welcome her, his mother and Aurora were not as inclined. They were still untrusting, and Aroa had spent enough time studying human behaviour to know they were comparing her to Alicia the whole time.

"I don't think it's worth it to try to make them like me," she told him. "I'll be gone in a month an a half anyway." Aroa went to the bathroom to change her white stamped t-shirt and blue jeans—that Gavi had helped her pick, for the pyjamas shirt and shorts. "You could tell them they were right about me and call it day," she offered when she exited.

"I don't like that, though," he shook his head. "I don't want them to think badly of you. You're wonderful, I wish they could see it. And what do you mean you will be gone, we can still be friends, no?"

"I thought you would want me gone," she admitted, sitting in bed next to him. Gavi shook his head. "Not at all. I want to be friends with you, I want to able to laugh about it in a few years."

Aroa rested her head on his shoulder, in silence. Gavi had to keep himself from dragging her to his lap and crushing her in a hug.

💙❤️

Aroa watched herself in the mirror. The show started today. She would go to the match, wearing the black jersey with Gavi's name on her back, and do the part.

"You'll slay this, I promise," encouraged Inés with a tight hug before she left.

At the stadium, Iván greeted her and sat with her to watch the match. She was grateful for his presence, it was a friendly face in the sea of unknown people.

"I presume the dinner with his family did not go well," muttered Iván.

"No," admitted Aroa. "Did he tell you?"

Iván shook his head and pointed to a few rows in front of them. Gavi's sister had arrived, and with her a pretty girl with beautiful clothes and beautiful hair.

"Why would Aurora bring Alicia if she approves of you?"

"Shit."

"Shit indeed. I told that boy he should have told his family the truth."

💙❤️

Gavi noticed immediately, and cursed under his breath. Shit was going to hit the fan faster than he thought. As they warmed up, he searched for a reason to rush to the stands.

"I need to talk to Iván for a sec," he told his teammates, who looked at him puzzled. Gavi rushed up the stairs, ignoring his sister trying to get his attention, and making it to Iván and Aroa in record time.

"We have some drama here," warned him Iván. Gavi ignored him too.

"How are you doing?" He asked Aroa, who shrugged a little bit. She looked terrified. "I'm going to go off script right now," he warned. lifting his hands to cup her cheeks. He felt them heat under his fingers, as Aroa realised what he was planning.

The kiss was longer than it should have been. Gavi wanted to make sure one of those fans who recorded everything got the clip, wanted everyone to see.

Gavi wanted everyone to know he was Aroa's so badly, he forgot he actually wasn't.

💙❤️

"Anything you want to say about this?"

Of course his teammates would get a hold of the video sooner than the day was over. Gavi was changing into his jeans when Lamine slid on the bench next to him, holding his phone with the viral tik tok.

"That's my girlfriend," he said. "Her name is Aroa Ferrer, she's a—"

"The writer?" interrupted Cubarsí. "No way you're dating her, hermano. She's too cool for you, way out of your league."

"Oh, yeah?" Snarked Gavi, watching how Cuba asked Lamine to show him the video again.

"I only saw her face for the first time last week, when the new book dropped and she included an author photo. Finally!"

Cuba being an Aroa fan boy wasn't on Gavi's plan, but it made him proud.

"But is she hot?" Asked someone else, trying to see the video too. Gavi put on his shirt, amidst patting on his shoulders, hair ruffles and congratulatory comments.

The smile on his face was genuine.

💙❤️

"I'm sorry about what my sister did."

Gavi held her hand. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pouted. He truly cared about her well-being. Aroa smiled.

"It's okay. At least my publishers are loving the drama," he snorted, but she could tell he noticed the saddened tone on her voice. "I'm sorry I'm making things hard with your family..."

"No you're not. Alicia is, trying to get us to get back together." Gavi stopped in front of his car. "You might have helped me cut this once and for all."

Aroa squeezed his hand, and he lifted hers to his lips, kissing it gently.

"Also, my teammates want to meet you too."

Aroa rolled her eyes.

"You didn't tell them this was fake either?"

"Pau is your fan boy. I would look like a loser if I hadn't actually seduced you!"

Aroa snorted, and suddenly they were laughing loudly, putting their weight on each other, until some other families started to trickle by and look at them funny.

💙❤️

It was quiet at home. Gavi was dozzing off with his head on Aroa's shoulder as she typed her soul away. Her fourth book was halfway done, this time in Catalan. At the other side of the couch, his mother was reading a magazine, and his father was doing a puzzle in the coffee table.

Aurora made it home then. She left her keys and took her coat in silence, watching the new couple warily.

"You didn't need to do that," she told her brother. Gavi woke up fully.

"Actually, I did. You didn't need to do that."

"Alicia's feelings are hurt."

"She hurt them herself," he stated, curling further onto Aroa's shoulder, who had not noticed Aurora's presence due to her headphones.

"You're hell bent on her, huh?"

"Yes, actually."

Aurora rolled her eyes and went to her room.

💙❤️

"Are you sure you do not want to come?" Gavia sked again. He did not expect Aroa to say yes, she was admant to keep their public interactions to a minimum.

"No, have fun," she smiled softly, looking up from her laptop. That book was writing itself fast.

Gavi had a boy's night out, and even if some of the guys brought their girlfriends, Aroa had argued that she would be a girlfriend for too little to actually go there. He has wanted to argue, but there was no point.

Gavi bent to drop a short peck on her lips, before leaving, whistling some old fashioned song.

"You're not... going to ask him to text you every twenty minutes?" Asled Aurora, from her side of the couch. Even if the relationship was tense, Gavi insisted they should act like nothing happened.

"Why would I do that?" frowned Aroa.

"To make sure he doesn't cheat?"

"If I have to put that much effort to make sure he doesn't cheat, why would a I date him?" Questioned Aroa. "Seems stupid."

His father snorted.

"She's got a point," he said, smiling. He was the one that seemed to accept Aroa the fastest.

Aurora shrugged.

"Alicia did not like it when he went out without her."

"And they broke up," reminded her Aroa. "So it was useless in the end, all that work."

Aroa wasn't sure why she was pushing so hard. Her idea was to be as quiet as possible, bother the family as little as she could. But she also wanted to defend herself a little. Aurora nodded.

"I guess you've got a point, nena," she said.

💙❤️

An hour and a half later, Gavi came back with some sweets he had picked at the 24h bakery, just to find his sister and his fake girlfriend cuddling and laughing over the stupid movie on the TV.

His chest fluttered.

💙❤️

"Iván's friends picked up my book. They will publish me without stupid marketing deals," she announced one day Gavi went to her apartment straight from training.

"That's great!" Gavi picked Aroa up and spun her around.

"And they told me they didn't mind that I wanted to use a pseudonym, so no one would link my new books to you and this PR deal," she finished once her feet touched the ground.

Gavi knew what that meant for her.

"So whats left with your old publisher?" He asked.

"Once we break up, we're done." She said. "They just need to forward the royalties from the sales and that's it."

Gavi nodded quietly, catching his lower lip between his teeth.

"There is something I wanted to ask," he said then, changing his weight from one foot to the other. "What would happen if we never broke up?"

"Huh?"

"If instead of breaking up, we kept dating. Could your publishers say anything?"

"I don't think so, we never stipulated in paper..."

"Then let's stay dating." He blurted.

"What?"

"Be my girlfriend. My real girlfriend. Please." Gavi's hands cupped her neck. "I've thought about this too often since this started. Please—"

Aroa rised to her tip toes, and shut him up with a kiss. The first kiss that had nothing to do with the arrangement, and everything to do with them. The first of many.

i am screaming crying throwing up to the point words can’t describe my emotions in english bro. oh dios mío, esto me ha hecho querer sollozar porque necesito un hombre así, en realidad has elevado mis estándare 🤯 i’ve never seen a fic this good im flabbergasted you’ve made my day.

joao fic with he stays sober at a forge in italian club in milan, so reader can get drunk and he’s trying to take her home because she can’t walk straight but he’s struggling because he knows no italian at all (i also know your italian so thought this would be a good idea)😛

Milano & L'amore - João Felix

joao felix x fem!reader

sy: milan comes with its fun, but also its less appealing moments. tonight’s an example.

a/n: although i hate the abbreviation of the ‘mafia’ and even mentioning it i couldn’t think of anything else as a placeholder so💔 plus this is not proofread idk im tired so sozsoz for any mistakes ..

warnings: portuguese and italian and the use of alcohol

the bartender slides you another shot of tequila across the marble countertop, and you catch it surprisingly easy.

the club is a kaleidoscope of green and pink, the flashing lights sending you into a drunken void.

“another one?” your boyfriend, joão, comes up from behind. his aftershave is overwhelmingly strong, which makes you even more nauseous.

“yes, another one,” you mock, taking a swig.

the liquid burns down your throat, the addictive wave of alcohol scorching into your head. your slumped over the bar, barely sitting upright and the stool is nothing but a flimsy cushion underneath you.

“y/n, i think you’ve had enough for tonight,” joão tries to snatch the drink, but you slide it away.

“i decide when i have enough,” you counter, almost falling backwards but joão’s swift enough to catch you on time.

“really?” he scoffs. “your gonna play this game with me? you know this isn’t healthy.”

with a second gulp of your drink, you slam the glass down onto the table to look up at your sober boyfriend who looks merely amused.

“your always acting like this,” you lazily mumble. “always lecturing me at… parties.”

you mimic him whilst swaying your hands in the air. “no y/n you can’t drink this, don’t do that. come over here, don’t go there.”

joão looks at you with an jovial expression—in the way your still able to form a sentence despite the amount of churning alcohol pitting in your stomach.

“now,” you fist the glass up to his face. “stop being so boring and have some!”

his grin falters, now unimpressed. “i’ll pass.”

“we’re in milan joão!” you lazily squeak, pulling him down by his half unbuttoned shirt, faces now inches apart. “you need to have some fun.”

he pinches his nose. “yeah and you need gum.”

your smile is carefree, joyful. you sling your arms around the nape of his neck, littering sloppy kisses over his tanned skin.

“awh aren’t you the sweetest?” you mistake his comment for a compliment. “i’m so lucky to have you bebê waby.”

joão purses his lips, rolling up his sleeves. “c’mon, enough. we’re going home right now.”

as he tries to lift you up, you vividly protest.

“ey antonio,” you call to the bartender, using the first name that comes to mind. “don’t make him take me away! we’re friends, right?”

the bartender solely spares you a glance, continuing to pour drinks like he’s heard this exact situation play out a hundred times before.

before you can resist further, you’re suddenly lifted off the ground, swung over joão’s shoulder like a misbehaving child.

“joão! put me down this instant, traidor,” you yell, kicking your legs.

joão, clearly, has more strength than you will ever possess, when he doesn’t even phase at the wriggling your doing to try and escape.

“joão! estou faland—serious,” you babble. “this.. não é justo.”

any words that spring to mind, you voice, even if it was a mix of both english and portuguese. you still somewhat have a smidge of conscious left, and you use it to snatch a fresh glass of vodka from a passing waiters tray.

joão catches on, glancing up at you. “y/n, where did you get that from—no!”

your mid-sip, when he forcefully slides it from your grasp and tosses it into a nearby waste bin.

“what’s wine ever done to you?” you slur, poking him in the chest as he finally sets you back down outside the club.

“for starters, that wasn’t wine,” he corrects. “and second of all, it stole my girlfriend from me.”

your eyes widen dramatically. “you have a… girlfriend? oh, so when did you meet her, huh?” you gasp. “you’re using me.”

joão runs a hand down his face. “no, amor, i don’t have another girlfriend.”

there was in fact, no other girl, but obviously you had way too many to drink than he anticipated.

“hmm,” you squint at him like you’re trying to read his mind.

visibly stressed, he runs his fingers through his hair as he pulls out his phone for a taxi. whereas, your too busy playing with the buttons on his shirt to notice.

“joão,” you spout, reaching up to squish his face between your hands. “you’re so… handsome.”

he sighs deeply, gently prying your hands off. “obrigado, amor. now let me find us a taxi, okay?”

but before he can even look up from his phone, you gasp dramatically. “wait. wait. where’s my bag?”

joão’s heart nearly stops. “what?”

you twirl around in circles, patting your sides. “i had a bag. where’s my bag? joão, my bag—”

“anjo, hey look at me,” he says, firmly locking your shoulders down. “you didn’t bring a bag.”

“oh.” you pause. “are you sure?”

“yes, i’m sure,” he groans, raking a hand down his face, almost on the brink of having heart palpitation. “we have more important things to worry about. like getting you home.”

as if the universe is mocking him, not a single car is in sight. the street is presumably quiet, as it is almost 3am and most people are already inside the club or stumbling off in different directions.

the portuguese looks around desperately, until spotting a driver leaning against the streetlamp.

“come on,” he tugs on your hand. “let’s see if he’s free.”

but you, in your drunken wisdom, come to a halt and dig your heels into the ground. “wait.”

joão groans. again. “wait for what y/n?”

you nervously grab onto his wrist with your spare hand, and whisper (noisily). “what if he’s part of the mafia?”

he stares at you, blinking so fast that he hopes you’d snap back into reality. the mafia?

your confident in your conspiracy, staring back with all of the faint seriousness you had left. not that you had much tonight, though.

“y/n,” he erupts flatly. “he’s a taxi driver.”

you hiss. “that’s what they want you to think.”

joão closes his eyes for a long moment, breathing in so deeply like he’s summoning for any patience that god can offer him. then, his nostrils flare determinedly, and without another word, he drags you along.

the driver looks up as you approach “sì?”

“uh.. possiamo eh,” he gestures vaguely. “possiamo.. prendere un taxi?” (can.. we get a taxi?)

“dove vuoi andare?” the driver now turns to face you fully. (where do you want to go?)

joão blanks. well shit. did he really expect a local in milan to be fluent in english? luckily, he briefly understood what he’d said but knowing how to form a response was a new challenge.

“uh.. to our hotel?”

“quale hotel?” the driver gives him a pointed look. (which hotel?)

joão’s mouth opens and closes. of course he knows the name of the hotel. but right now? right now, when you were clinging to his arm and sputtering some nonsense about ‘dangerous italian gangsters’(?). his brain was fried.

for you, this is nothing short of in awe. “awh baby you sound so smart right now.”

“y/n, please.” he feigns.

the driver sighs, patience thinning. “l'indirizzo?”(the address?)

he quickly fumbles for his phone, trying to pull up the hotels location. his hands are full because of your constant swaying against him, always looking to grab his attention.

“joãoo,” you pout, pressing your cheek against his chest. “why is your heartbeat so fast? is it normally this fast?”

“um, no,” he presses his lips into a thin line, still struggling to get the location. you continue to ramble about something else, but ignores you.

after a painful few seconds, he finally grabs the address, showing it to the driver.

the man squints at the screen, then exhales heavily, like he’s deeply regretting taking this job tonight. but he nods. “va bene. venite.” (okay. come)

you snort. “look at you, my multilingual king.”

he helps you into the backseat, making sure you don’t hit your head in the process, before sliding in next to you.

when the engine starts, your head hits his shoulder, he cuddles you closer, his arm around your waist like a crafted seatbelt.

after a few beats of silence, you grumble. “you still love me after all this right?”

joão ushers a breathy laugh, resting his chin atop your head. “more than anything mi vida.”

🔖🏷️: @n0vazsq @hearzdiarx @paucubarsisimp @diarieeeelils @joaosnovia @httpsdana @universefcb

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.

so this is for all the people on my general taglist bc i’ve gotten rq for f1 fics and i need yall to lmk if you want to be added to that also lmk even if ur not on there @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @mariejuli