Where Are The Joao Felix Fics At Bc Im Only On This App For Fics And No One Is Making Them , That’s

pls I’m begging for a Joao felix one with the prompts 5 and 6 from comfort and 9 from fluff and he’s like in the hospital for something and since he had lots of medication, he was very emotional 💗 sry for the specific request

Between Heartbeats~João Félix

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

5-“It’s okay to cry, I’ll be right here.”

6-“I wish I could take away all your pain.”

9-“Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up?”

The hospital room was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the machines and João’s uneven breathing.

His head rested against the pillows, his hazel eyes glassy and distant as the medication worked through his system.

The doctor had warned her he might be groggy, disoriented, and unusually emotional—and now, he was all three.

“You’re too good for me,” João mumbled, his voice thick and slurred. His hand fumbled across the blanket until it found hers, gripping it tightly.

“You do everything for me, and I just—” His lips trembled as his voice cracked. “I just sit here, making your life harder.”

Her heart twisted at his words. “João, that’s not true,” she said softly, leaning forward to stroke his damp hair. “My love, you’ve never made my life harder. Ever.”

“It is,” he insisted, his hazel eyes filling with tears.

“Why do you even love me? I don’t deserve you. You… you’re perfect. You’re my sunshine. Even when everything’s dark, you’re always shining.”

His lips quivered, and a tear slipped down his cheek. He sniffled, lifting his hand weakly to his face, confusion flickering across his features. “Why am I crying?” he asked, his voice breaking as more tears fell.

She leaned closer, cupping his cheek and brushing away the tears with her thumb. “It’s okay to cry, baby,” she whispered gently, her voice soft and reassuring. “I’ll be right here.”

João let out a shaky breath, his hand clumsily reaching to hold hers against his face.

“You always know what to say,” he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. “I love you so much, meu amor. I don’t tell you enough, but I do. I really, really do.” (my love)

Tears pricked her own eyes, but she blinked them away, focusing on him. “And I love you, João,” you said softly. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. Just rest, okay?”

He nodded weakly, but his expression suddenly contorted in pain, and he groaned, his hand moving to his ribs. “It hurts,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She felt a pang of helplessness. “Oh, meu querido,” she said, her voice breaking. “I wish I could take away all your pain. I’d do anything to make it better.” (my dear)

He opened his eyes and gave her a faint smile, despite the pain etched on his face. “You being here… that’s enough,” he murmured.

She leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering for a moment. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, taking his hand again.

“Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up?” he asked, his voice soft and pleading.

“I promise,” she said firmly, stroking his hair gently. “Now try to sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

His breathing began to even out as the medication pulled him under, though his grip on your hand remained firm. You stayed by his side, watching him until your own exhaustion took over, and you fell asleep with your head resting on the edge of the bed.

The first thing she felt was warmth—soft lips pressing against her temple, then her cheek. The faint scent of João’s cologne filled the air as she stirred awake.

“Morning, meu amor,” came his low, familiar voice, still rough from sleep but steadier than the night before.

She opened her eyes to find João leaning over her, his face inches from hers, a small smile tugging at his lips. His hazel eyes were clearer now, the pain from the night before replaced with a quiet warmth.

“João,” she breathed, sitting up quickly. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said, his voice soft. “A lot better.”

He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing her cheek. “You stayed,” he said quietly, as if in awe.

“Of course I did,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “I promised, didn’t I?”

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. It was slow and full of unspoken gratitude, leaving her breathless when he pulled back.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers.

“So are you, meu querido,” shr replied softly, a smile tugging at her lips.

João chuckled, his hand sliding to her waist to pull her closer. “I’m serious. I don’t know what I’d do without you, amor.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” she teased, her voice light but full of love.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, his lips lingering against hers as his hands traced slow, comforting patterns on her back. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses. “More than anything.”

“And I love you,” she whispered back, her heart swelling.

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🙏🏼]

MY FAVE WRITOR 😍😍 i love this and everything you do babe you’re amazing 💔💔

could u do a hector fort x reader where he’s at training and during the break, one of his teammates show him multiple social media posts uploaded by his mom of her and his gf of 2-years having a girls day without him knowing prior. the whole team is teasing him and saying how locked in they are and he’s just so happy asf saying that’s wifey and stuff like that xx

✮ Tú y Mamá - Hector Fort

hector fort x fem!reader

sy: hector’s mood had been low all day, from your absent messages for hours. what he doesn’t know though, is your date with his mother was what you were up to.

a/n: this was a little crammed into my schedule to write, so im really sorry if it’s a lil stiff but ty for the req 🧡(ifykyk @n0vazsq)

warnings: nope!

the ciutat esportiva was electric, barça players scattered out amongst the pitch, immersed within a full spectrum of excersise and activities.

hector was completing goal warmups, firing past numerous balls beyond inaki. nearby, cubarsí and lamine were atop a cooler box, following every movement hector made.

“he looks sorta angry doesn’t he?” lamine nodded over, grabbing pau’s attention. “i wonder what’s up with him.”

“did you not hear what he was talking to balde and ansu about? his girl hadn’t messaged him this morning.” pau noted in all solemnity.

“what?” lamine grinned, “are you serious? de ninguna manera.”

“im serious.” pau scoffed, shaking his head. “he’s crazy over that girl.”

lamine let out an exasperated sigh, watching as hansi blew out his whistle to signal the first water break of the morning.

hector kept his head low, strutting past the two guys in a seemingly rushed hurry. his eyes were locked onto the ramp to the lockers, as lamine and pau instantly followed his footsteps.

their cleats were in a rhythmic motion, the clicks bouncing from the concrete walls onto the otherwise silent hallway. hector’s movements had stopped at this point, an eerie silence lingering.

“hey hermano?” lamine called out, his voice echoing off the bricks. they meet face with the locker room, sighting hector’s figure silhouetted in the dim light. he sat on the bench below his locker, head in hands.

his curls were messy and crumbled, his jersey clinging to his sweat-drenched body—his toned abs on display.

“why are you in here man? your bottles outside.” pau walked on closer, gently swatting his head.

hector let past a low murmur, tugging his shirt over his head. lamine frowned, taking a seat next to him.

“what’s the matter with you amigo? you don’t seem yourself today.” he further pressed, as they exchanged a knowing look.

“im alright, just tired.” he grumbled. it probably would of been believable if his voice wasn’t so threaded with tension.

“ey, the usual im tired gimmick,” pau teased but tone firm. “seriously hector, what is it?”

as hector was about to retaliate, a follow-up echo of shoes clacked against the floor, revealing a wide-eyed gavi, pedri, casado and olmo.

“coach has been looking everywhere for you three!” dani exclaimed, flailing his arms. “why are you all in here?”

pedri sighed in relief whilst muttering a small, “i told you so,” to gavi who didn’t seem to hear.

“ask him that,” lamine gestured to hector, inviting the four players near. the group drew closer, with raised brows and curious expressions upon hector’s uncharacteristic gloom.

“we saw you with that dopey look on your face earlier,” gavi tried to lighten the somber mood, grinning. “wipe that glare off man.”

hector didn’t comment, he just kept his gaze onto his lap where he was fidgeting with his jersey.

casado huffed, trying to bring reassurance. “it’s not personal H, she’s just busy with your mom.”

the words rolled off his tongue simultaneously, though by the look on hectors face, he immediately regretted it.

“she’s what?” hector abruptly stood up, voice rising and laced with confusion.

“uh, yeah, she’s been with your mom all morning.” the spaniard mumbled, stepping back ever so subtly.

“how do you know?” hector advanced onto him, his face now inches apart from marc’s. hector’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his cheek twitching.

“oh si.. she posted it on instagram,” he gulped, the colour drained from his face. “earlier.”

hector’s glare intensified, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “my question is, why do you follow her?” he interrogated.

“no reason.. i follow everybody.” he said weakly, hurriedly shoving his phone into his pocket.

hectors eyes narrowed, the type of look that made marc shift uncomfortably. as though he was about to burst, pau quickly intervened, slinging his arm over his shoulder. “don’t worry hermano, he followed my sister and her friends who he’s never even met before.”

marc let out a sigh of relief, dropping his tense shoulders. a few of the boys snickered, poking fun at casado for his internet obsession.

pau continued, slowly steering hector’s attention away, “and get this, he liked so many of her posts that her boyfriend had to step in.” pau proceeded laughing, causing casado cheeks to blush.

“ey! i was admiring her aesthetic!” marc tried to defend, though that never really stopped the rest of them making fun of him.

“can’t you do that with your own sister? i don’t blame irene for blocking you!” pedri clapped his back.

“what? irene blocked you?” lamine doubled over laughing, clutching his stomach for air. “no way!”

“okay whatever whatever, show me again.” hector interrupted the guys’ gig, motioning for gavi’s phone.

pablo protested, although dani elllbowed him into submission. reluctantly, he pulled up the post on his phone, as hector took it from his hands.

hector flicked through the numerous posts, images of you and his mother laughing, posing, and seemingly drunk off merriment.

they featured everything from coffee dates and endearingly charming selfies, to affectionate boasts about your latest matching nail sets together.

each photo possessed a natural setting, no forced chemistry, no pre-practised techniques or no false smiles. hector couldn’t shake the swell of his heart that was multiplying with each swipe, his grin only growing wider.

the simplicity of all of the candid shots, brought an unwavering, flustering emotion over him—his earlier frustration melted away. who knew that all he needed was a few coupled images of the two women he loved most in this world, to cure his dishevels.

“look at that smile on his face,” lamine teased. “he’s so happy, it’s disgusting.”

“see the way he’s invested in them,” gavi added, him and pedri similarly leaning into eachother by snickering. “he’s completely gone.”

“she’s got you hooked man,” dani commented, also grinning ear to ear.

laughter filled the room again, but this time, hector joined in. he ran a hand through his hair, with pablo’s phone still in hand, gazing fondly at the screen.

“at least we now know who really runs your life,” pedri qipped finally.

“she’s worth it though, they both are,” he said simply, the sincerity in his voice silencing any further teasing.

the others nodded, their teasing softening into gentle ribbing. “of course she is,” marc stated. “just don’t let her forget it.”

hector chuckled, his heart now infinitely lighter than it had been all morning and his mind no longer foggy. “believe me, i won’t.”

Yes pt2 of the Jude fic plis

❦ - not enough for you. part 2.

summary:: ‘and with hardship comes ease.’ here is finally your ease.

warnings:: THIS WAS LEFT IN MY DRAFTS FOR ALMOST A MONTH.

writers note:: i am SO sorry it took this long? but here’s part one as well.

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

it had been weeks.

weeks since you walked out of his apartment, since you left behind the life you had built together. weeks of silence, of pretending you were okay, of waking up in an empty bed and forcing yourself not to check your phone.

you tried to move on. threw yourself into work, took on extra projects, stayed late at the office just to avoid coming home to the quiet. you told yourself you were fine. that you had made the right choice. that love should never come at the expense of yourself.

but god, you missed him.

you missed the way he’d pull you into his arms at the end of a long day, the way he’d press lazy kisses to your temple while you worked, the way he’d always keep a hand on you, your knee, your back, your fingers tangled with his, like he needed to know you were there.

some nights, you swore you could still hear his laugh echoing in the corners of your apartment. some mornings, you still reached for him in bed before remembering he wasn’t there.

and it hurt. because for all the love you had for him, it hadn’t been enough. and that truth sat heavy on your chest, refusing to fade.

then, one night, your phone rang.

his name flashed across the screen. your breath caught.

for a moment, you considered ignoring it. letting it go to voicemail. but something in you, something stubborn, something still so deeply tied to him, made you press accept.

‘hey,’ his voice was rough, like he hadn’t been sleeping.

you swallowed, gripping your phone tighter. ‘hey.’

silence.

‘i don’t know how to do this,’ he admitted, voice quiet. ‘how to be without you.’

your eyes burned. ‘you’re not without me, jude. i’m still here. i just… i just couldn’t keep choosing you over myself.’

a harsh exhale. ‘i know. and i hate that i made you feel like you had to.’

his voice cracked on the last word, and something inside you splintered.

‘it wasn’t fair,’ you whispered. ‘you wanted me to be someone i’m not. and that’s not love, jude. love isn’t asking someone to sacrifice who they are to fit into your world.’

he was quiet for so long you thought maybe he wouldn’t respond. but then,

‘i know,’ he said, voice hoarse. ‘i’ve been thinking about it. about us. about what i did wrong. and you were right. i wanted you to fit into my life, but i never stopped to think about how i could fit into yours.’

your throat tightened. ‘jude…’

‘i was selfish,’ he continued, not letting you interrupt. ‘i thought love meant you’d follow me anywhere, that you’d drop everything because you loved me. but i never stopped to think about how much you already had to lose. and that’s not fair. it’s not fair to you.’

a tear slipped down your cheek.

‘i miss you,’ he admitted, voice breaking. ‘but more than that, i miss being the person who made you happy. and i don’t know if we can fix this. but i want to try. if you’ll let me.’

your breath hitched.

for weeks, you had convinced yourself that he would never understand. that he would always expect you to fit into his world, to mold yourself into something easier, something more convenient. but this—this was him trying.

this was him choosing to meet you in the middle.

‘if we try again,’ you said carefully, ‘things have to be different. i need to know that you see me, jude. that you respect what i want for myself just as much as i respect what you want for yourself.’

‘i do,’ he said without hesitation. ‘i swear i do. i just… i don’t want to do this without you.’

you exhaled shakily, pressing your fingers to your temple.

‘can i see you?’ he asked after a beat. ‘not to fix everything right now, not to force anything. just… to see you.’

your heart ached. you knew this was a risk. that loving him, choosing him again, meant trusting that he would follow through on his promises. but a part of you, the part that never stopped loving him, wanted to believe that he could.

so you swallowed past the lump in your throat and whispered, ‘yeah. okay.’

and for the first time in weeks, hope felt like something real. something worth holding onto.

SOOOO YK WHO IT IS BBG BUTT maybe like jude x reader where shes an influencer for adidas and her and jude have to do a COLLAB FOr the brand and stuff i trust ur imagination❤️❤️

❦ - all eyes on us.

summary:: you’re a famous influencer who’s been paired up with jude for adidas pr.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: i love this hello? i love you babe this is such a yummy request i love writing this!! 😍 also i’ve clocked that i write sm in my writers note so uhm anywho this is my first jude fic so i hope my jude girlies like it!! btw this is my first time trying this style of writing ig so tell me if it’s good xx

word count:: 2,708

You never minded the fast paced world of being an influencer. You’d built your brand around effortless style and relatable charm, snagging deals with top-tier companies like Adidas. Campaigns like this were nothing new to you - until Jude entered the picture.

He was charming, no doubt. Tall, confident, and with a way of making everyone in the room laugh, he had that kind of natural magnetism that couldn’t be taught. From the moment he walked into the studio, you felt the shift in the air.

But it wasn’t just his presence that threw you off, it was how easy he made everything look, even while you were secretly trying not to embarrass yourself.

You both stood under the spotlight for your first set of shots. The creative director had explained the vibe they were going for: young, edgy, and fun. This meant capturing moments of banter, mock rivalry, and flirtation.

‘I’m not used to being outshined,’ you muttered to Jude as the photographer adjusted their camera.

He leaned down slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let you win this one.’

The nerve of him.

‘Alright, Jude, throw your arm around her shoulder,’ the photographer instructed.

You felt the weight of his arm drape across you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. The warmth of his skin through the fabric of your hoodie was distracting; almost too distracting.

‘Now laugh, like he just said something funny,’ the photographer added.

Jude didn’t miss a beat. ‘I didn’t realize fake laughing was part of your influencer requirements,’ he teased under his breath.

You tilted your head back and laughed anyway, your genuine amusement mixing with the forced effort.

The real chaos started after the shoot. Adidas had planned a tiktok segment where you and Jude would compete in challenges to promote the campaign.

The first challenge was simple: a lip-sync duet to a viral audio clip. Jude was awful at keeping up, missing half the words and breaking into laughter when he saw your exaggerated expressions.

‘Do you even know how tiktok works?’ you asked, barely able to hold back your laughter.

‘Not really,’ he admitted, grinning. ‘I’m more of a football guy, remember?’

‘Clearly. Let me handle this part.’

But when it came to the second challenge, a reaction test where you had to slap each other’s hands before the other could dodge - Jude’s reflexes as a professional athlete completely ruined your chances.

‘You’re impossible,’ you huffed, swatting at him as he casually held his hands just out of reach.

‘Don’t hate the player,’ he replied, his grin widening.

By the time the day ended, you were sitting on the studio’s couch, scrolling through some of the footage on your phone. Jude plopped down beside you, his body radiating warmth even in the air-conditioned room.

‘Let me see,’ he said, leaning over your shoulder.

You tilted the phone so he could watch the clips. The two of you looked so natural together, laughing, teasing, and bantering like you’d known each other for years instead of hours.

‘This one’s my favourite,’ he said, pointing at a video where you’d accidentally tripped over a cord mid shoot. Instead of falling, Jude had caught you with an arm around your waist, and the moment had turned into a perfectly awkward laugh caught on camera.

‘Yeah, that’s real ‘effortless cool,’ you said sarcastically.

He leaned back, his smirk softening into something more sincere. ‘You’re good at this. Like, really good. It’s not just the cameras. You’ve got... presence.’

You turned to him, surprised by the compliment. ‘Thanks, Jude. You’re not bad yourself, you know. For a footballer.’

As you both walked out of the studio, Jude fell into step beside you. The evening air was cool, the streets of the city buzzing with life.

‘You hungry?’ he asked casually, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

You glanced up at him, caught off guard. ‘Are you asking me to dinner?’

‘Maybe,’ he replied, that boyish grin creeping onto his face. ‘Unless you’re too busy for a post shoot celebration.’

You pretended to consider it. ‘Depends. Is this dinner part of the campaign, or is this just you trying to get to know me better?’

He laughed, shaking his head. ‘Off the record. No cameras, no Adidas logos. Just you and me.’

You hesitated for a moment before smiling. ‘Alright, Jude. You’ve got yourself a deal.’

The restaurant Jude chose wasn’t flashy, which surprised you. No cameras, no fancy decor, just a tucked away little spot that smelled like garlic and freshly baked bread. It was soft, warm, and nothing like the high-energy day you’d just had.  

‘This is unexpected,’ you said, sliding into the booth opposite him.  

‘What? Did you think I’d take you to some five-star rooftop spot?’ He smiled, setting his phone facedown on the table. ‘Not my style.’

‘I don’t know, you football types always seem... I don’t know, extra?’

Jude leaned back, one arm draped casually over the booth. ‘I’m not exactly your average footballer. But you already knew that.’

You laughed, shaking your head. ‘Alright, I’ll give you that. You’re different.’

The waiter appeared, and you both ordered, Jude insisting you get the house special because ‘it’s the only reason I come here.’ Once the waiter disappeared, there was a brief silence, the kind that could’ve been awkward if Jude wasn’t so effortlessly comfortable.  

‘So, do you always nonchalantly get your way through shoots like that?’ you teased, resting your chin on your hand.  

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Nonchalance? That’s what you call it?’

‘What else would I call it?’

‘Survival,’ he said with a laugh. ‘You don’t understand, I’m used to kicking a ball around, not posing and trying to look cool.’

‘Well, you pulled it off,’ you admitted. ‘Even if you were hopeless at TikTok.’

‘Hopeless?’ He leaned forward, grinning. ‘You’re crazy, you know that?’

‘Just honest,’ you said, matching his energy.  

The banter flowed as naturally as it had on set, but there was something more intimate about it now. Without the cameras and the crew, Jude wasn’t just the Adidas poster boy or the football sensation, he was Jude, the guy who couldn’t stop making you laugh.  

As you left the restaurant, you didn’t notice the group of fans across the street until one of them shouted his name.  

‘Jude! Over here!’

You glanced at him, expecting him to be annoyed, but instead, he smiled and waved, walking over to sign autographs and take a few pictures. You hung back, not wanting to steal his moment, but one of the fans pointed at you.  

‘Is that your girlfriend?’

Your cheeks burned, and before you could even respond, Jude turned to you with a smirk. ‘What do you think? Should we let them guess?’

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. ‘Let’s not start rumors on a Wednesday night.’

The fans laughed, but your heart raced as Jude returned to your side, his hand brushing against yours.  

‘Sorry about that,’ he said once you were out of earshot.  

‘Does that happen a lot?’

‘All the time,’ he admitted. ‘You get used to it. But I guess that’s your world too, huh? Fans, cameras, people watching your every move?’

‘It’s... different,’ you said honestly. ‘I mean, I don’t have people yelling my name on the street, but yeah, there’s pressure to always be ‘on.’’

He nodded, his expression softening. ‘Yeah, I get that.’

You woke up the next day to your phone buzzing non-stop. Half-asleep, you grabbed it off your nightstand and squinted at the screen.  

Your notifications were flooded.  

FootyUpdates: ‘Jude Bellingham spotted at dinner with influencer yourusername last night 👀 Fans are already shipping it!’

AdidasOfficial: ‘Name a more iconic duo than JudeBellingham and yourusername. We’ll wait.’

yourfanacc: ‘Wait, are Jude and Y/N a THING?!? They look so cute together!!!’

You groaned, scrolling through the dozens of comments, edits, and conspiracy theories. One clip in particular was gaining traction, a TikTok of you and Jude laughing during the campaign shoot, set to a romantic song.  

Your phone buzzed again.  

Jude: morning darling. you seen the chaos yet?

You laughed, typing back. 

oh, you mean the part where we’re trending? yeahhh, just saw it.

think adidas planned this?

wouldn’t put it past them

There was a pause before his next message came through.  

Jude: you alright with it? 

You hesitated. The attention was overwhelming, sure, but there was something exciting about it too.  

mhm, as long as you’re ok being shipped w me?

Jude: could be worse. you’re kinda hard not to like.

The buzz from the campaign only grew, and Adidas wasted no time capitalizing on it. Within a week, you and Jude were booked for another event, a live Q&A streamed on Instagram.  

‘You ready for this?’ he asked as you both sat down in front of the camera.  

‘Not even a little,’ you admitted, adjusting your mic.  

The questions started off innocent enough, favorite Adidas pieces, funniest moments from the shoot, but it didn’t take long for fans to steer the conversation toward your ‘chemistry.’

‘So, what’s it like working together?’ one fan asked.  

Jude glanced at you, a playful glint in his eye. ‘Terrible. She bullies me non stop.’

You gasped, swatting his arm. ‘That’s a lie! You’re the bully.’

The fans ate it up, the comment section exploding with heart emojis.

As the weeks went on, you and Jude kept crossing paths, for more Adidas campaigns, promotional events, and even the occasional text conversation that drifted into late night time. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to ignore the spark between you.  

But with every laugh, every lingering glance, there was always that voice in the back of your head reminding you of the cameras, the fans, and the fact that you were both living in two completely different worlds.  

One night, after a particularly long shoot, Jude turned to you as you were packing up your things.  

‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course,’ you replied, pausing.  

‘Do you ever... wish things were simpler? Like, no cameras, no pressure. Just normal?’

His question caught you off guard, but you nodded. ‘All the time. Why?’

He hesitated for a moment before giving you a small smile. ‘Just wondering.’

You didn’t push, but the way he looked at you in that moment stayed with you long after you’d gone home.  

It was late. You were sitting at a café, hunched over your laptop, trying to get some work done before the next event. The world outside was quiet, the kind of peaceful night that made everything feel suspended in time.  

Your phone buzzed again.  

Jude: you still up?

You smiled, quickly typing back.

always. got a shoot tomorrow. what’s up?

A few seconds later, his response popped up.  

Jude: wanna grab a drink rq?

You hesitated. There was something different about tonight. Jude had been subtly pulling away lately, nothing obvious, just an undercurrent of distance. Maybe it was the pressure of the campaign, the media frenzy, or maybe he was just being careful not to blur the lines between your professional relationship and whatever else might be brewing.  

But the truth was, you’d been feeling the same thing. The moments you spent together were becoming harder to ignore. Every time you caught his eye, or when he touched your shoulder in passing, your heart would skip a beat.  

i’d love to.

The bar was quiet, tucked into a side street away from the chaos of the city. It was dimly lit, with soft jazz playing in the background. You both sat at a small table near the window, your drinks untouched as the conversation flowed between easy laughter and deeper silences.  

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous around someone,’ Jude confessed, swirling his drink with a half-smile.  

You raised an eyebrow. ‘You? Nervous?’

He nodded, a subtle vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before. ‘Yeah. I guess I don’t really know how to... handle this.’

‘Handle what?’ you asked, your voice softening.  

‘This.’ He gestured between the two of you. ‘Whatever this is. I mean, you’ve been a part of my life now for what, a few weeks? But every time we’re together, it feels like something... more.’

The words hung in the air, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.  

You set your drink down and leaned forward, heart pounding. ‘Jude, I get it.’

His eyes flicked to yours, searching for the sincerity behind your words.  

‘You get what?’

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. ‘The pressure. The cameras, the fans, this whole world we live in. But I think... I think I’ve been avoiding this whatever this is between us, because it’s too complicated. I don’t know how to work it either.’

There was a long pause before Jude finally spoke, his voice low and steady. ‘I don’t want to keep pretending like it’s nothing. Like this isn’t affecting me. Because it is. Every time I see you, every time we talk, I can’t help but feel like I’m falling for you.’

Your heart hammered in your chest. ‘Jude, I...’

But before you could finish, he leaned in, his hand brushing against yours on the table. His touch was light but electric, sending a shiver up your spine.  

‘I don’t want to fight this anymore,’ he whispered, his eyes locked on yours. ‘I don’t want to pretend that I don’t want this. I want you.’ 

The tension between you both was insane. You could feel the weight of his words, and something inside you clicked. It was as if the floodgates had opened, and you finally understood that all the moments of hesitation, the awkwardness, and the teasing had been building up to this one point.  

Slowly, carefully, you leaned forward, closing the space between you. The kiss was gentle at first, almost tentative, like you both were unsure, testing the waters. But then Jude’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, and everything about that moment felt right.  

Your heart raced as you kissed him deeper, the world around you fading away. There was no camera, no pressure, no fans, just you and him, two people who had been dancing around this moment for far too long.  

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Jude rested his forehead against yours. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for so long,’ he murmured.  

You smiled, a little breathless yourself. ‘Me too.’

He laughed, that familiar spark returning to his eyes. ‘Guess it was worth the wait, huh?’

You nodded, still caught in the whirlwind of emotions. ‘Worth it.’

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat back in your seats, the world outside still unaware of what had just shifted between you.  

But in that moment, it didn’t matter. You’d crossed a line, one that couldn’t be uncrossed. Whatever happened next, you both knew it wouldn’t be easy. The cameras, the fans, the expectations, they’d all be there. But for the first time in weeks, you felt certain of one thing: you wanted this.  

And maybe, just maybe, he did too.  

The next day, you and Jude had to face reality. The media frenzy about your ‘relationship’ reached new heights, with every tabloid, Instagram post, and fan account speculating on what the kiss meant.  

But for once, it didn’t faze you. You were sitting next to him, the two of you quietly sipping coffee in the hotel lobby, exchanging glances and small smiles like you hadn’t just turned your world upside down.  

‘You know they’re gonna talk about this for days, right?’ you said, half-amused.  

Jude chuckled, reaching for your hand under the table. ‘Let them. We’ve got something real, even if they don’t get it.’

‘I’m okay with that.’ You squeezed his hand gently, the connection between you undeniable.  

And maybe that was the point. No matter what the world thought, you and Jude had found something real in the chaos. Something that couldn’t be captured by a camera, something just for the two of you.  

And for the first time in a long time, you felt free.  

do u write smut?

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

first fic i read when im taking a break from revision and now i’m bawling my eyes out

Until We Meet Again

Kenan Yildiz x Reader

The house was too quiet.

Not the peaceful kind, either. It was the kind of silence that rang in your ears, that pressed on your chest until breathing felt like a chore. The kind of silence that echoed, despite the toys still scattered across the living room. His little sneakers by the door. His tiny Juventus jersey draped over the back of the couch — the one with “Baba” and number 15 on the back.

Kay didn’t care that Kenan had changed numbers since. To him, his baba would always be number 15.

Kenan sat at the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. You stood behind him, fingers gripping the sleeve of his hoodie. The one Kay used to wrap around himself like a superhero cape, saying he was “Baba’s biggest fan.”

Kay Yıldız. Just five years old. Brave. Cheeky. So full of life. A warrior who fought harder than anyone should have to. But cancer didn’t care about innocence. It didn’t care that he was loved by an entire football club, or that the crowd used to cheer his name every time he ran onto the pitch with his father.

The funeral had been small. Quiet. Kenan didn’t want cameras. He didn’t want headlines.

Just Kay’s family.

And his Juventus family.

Federico Gatti brought a bouquet of white flowers — Kay’s favorite. Nicolò savona, who used to play FIFA with Kay after training, had cried into Kenan’s shoulder like a little brother. Weston left a small stuffed penguin by the casket — Kay had a collection of them. Dusan stood frozen for the longest time, face red, eyes wet, muttering “I’m so sorry” over and over. Manuel Locatelli didn’t let go of Kenan the whole day.

The next day, Juventus had a home game.

You didn’t want Kenan to go. You didn’t want to be alone. But you also knew Kay would’ve insisted on it. He loved watching his baba play. Even from the hospital bed, he’d hold up his toy whistle and scream, “Let’s go Juventus!” like he was in the Curva Sud himself.

The moment you stepped into the Allianz Stadium, you felt the shift. The whole place felt heavy — but united.

The team came out for warm-ups all wearing black shirts. On the back: KAY YILDIZ, and underneath, the number 15.

As the teams lined up, the announcer's voice echoed:

“Ladies and gentlemen, we ask that you join us in a minute of silence to honor the memory of Kay Yıldız, the young son of our player Kenan Yıldız — forever part of the Bianconeri family.”

Not a single sound.

No chants. No movement. No phones.

Just silence.

On the big screen, a photo appeared. Kay, standing on the touchline, black and white stripes painted on his cheeks, proudly holding a sign that read:

"Forza Baba!"

Kenan stared up at the image, jaw clenched, eyes glassy. The tears came when the silence ended and the Curva Sud unveiled a massive banner, hand-painted with Kay in his little Juventus kit, smiling wide, football in his hands.

“Our smallest warrior. Forever one of us.”

Kenan dropped to his knees.

Weston, Dusan, Nicolo — they surrounded him, arms around his shoulders, heads bowed. The referee didn’t rush. No one did.

When the whistle blew, Kenan stood and played like his soul was on fire.

In the 15th minute, the ball came to him at the edge of the box.

A single touch.

A strike.

Goal.

Kenan didn’t celebrate. He just pointed both arms to the sky, tears streaking his face.

The crowd didn’t scream.

They applauded.

You stood up, one hand pressed to your heart, the other wiping your cheeks. You whispered, “He saw that. I know he did.”

After the match, the team walked off arm-in-arm with Kenan. The club posted a photo of him kneeling after his goal, the admin behind the phone, captioned:

“Shine bright, Kay Yıldız. The sky has gained a star — and we’ve lost our bravest Bianconero.”

That night, Kenan sat beside you in Kay’s room. He picked up the little jersey off the bed — the one with “Yıldız 15” on the back — and said quietly:

“Did you feel him?”

You nodded. “He wouldn’t have missed it.”

This was Requested.🫶🏼

OMG we need a part 3 of the Gavi x tennis reader fic

❦ - love && war 3.

summary:: winning isn’t everything. whether it’s on or off the pitch and that’s something you’ve realised.

warnings:: none.

writers notes:: guys i wanna sob this is really basic, repetitive and idk what to do for the plot but if yg want a part 4 i can do one where he ACTUALLY attends a match bc bros suffering by hearing the match from pedris pov 💔.

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

the first thing you did after leaving the court was check your phone. sweat still clung to your skin, muscles aching from the three set battle you had just fought, but none of that mattered as much as the missed notifications lighting up your screen.

pablo: been refreshing the score like crazy, how did it go?
pablo: mi amor?
pablo: please tell me you won
pablo: shit, did you lose?
pablo: call me as soon as you can, okay?

your heart sank a little as you read his texts. you hated how badly he wanted to be there, how helpless he felt watching the live score update from miles away.

you sighed, quickly typing back.

you: lost in three. close, but not enough.

he read the message almost instantly. the typing bubbles appeared, then stopped. then appeared again.

your phone rang.

you stepped away from the locker room, walking into a quieter hallway before answering.

‘cariño,’ gavi’s voice was soft, but you could hear the frustration underneath. ‘tell me what happened.’

you leaned against the wall, exhaling. ‘she just played better. i had chances, but i didn’t take them. that’s it.’

‘that’s not it,’ he muttered. ‘i know you. i know you’re beating yourself up over every point.’

you closed your eyes for a moment. he wasn’t wrong.

‘i just, i really wanted this one, pablo. and i know i played well, but at the end of the day, i lost. and that’s all anyone will remember.’

‘that’s not true,’ he said instantly. ‘you were amazing. i didn’t even have to watch the match to know that. but it pisses me off that i couldn’t watch. i should’ve been there.’

‘pablo—’

‘i mean it,’ he cut you off, frustration creeping into his voice. ‘pedri was literally sitting on his ass watching the whole thing while i was stuck playing a match i barely cared about because all i wanted to do was check my phone for updates.’

you let out a small laugh despite yourself. ‘you barely cared about a la liga match?’

‘yes,’ he huffed. ‘well, okay, maybe not barely. but you get what i mean.’

you did. you really did.

‘you have no idea how badly i wanted to see you,’ he continued. ‘at halftime, i grabbed my phone the second i got to the locker room. hansi was giving a whole speech and i wasn’t even listening, i just kept refreshing the score.’

‘pablo, oh my god.’

‘no, listen to this,’ he went on. ‘i had to hide my phone under my shirt when he started walking around because i refused to put it down. i literally thought i was gonna get subbed off for being distracted.’

you bit your lip, torn between being exasperated and incredibly touched.

‘you’re crazy.’

‘for you? yeah, i am,’ he admitted without hesitation. ‘i hate missing your matches. and i swear i’ll be at the next one, even if i have to fight hansi for it.’

you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. ‘i appreciate the commitment, but i don’t think hansi would take too kindly to that.’

‘too bad. he’ll have to deal with it,’ gavi muttered.

there was a beat of silence before he spoke again, softer this time.

‘you know how proud i am of you, right?’

you swallowed.

‘even if you didn’t win, even if you think it wasn’t enough, you’re incredible. i hope you know that.’

your throat tightened slightly. he always knew exactly what to say.

‘thank you,’ you murmured. ‘really. that means a lot.’

‘i mean it,’ he said. ‘and when i see you, i’m gonna hug you so tight you’ll forget all about today.’

you laughed lightly. ‘looking forward to it.’

‘good. now go rest, okay? we’ll talk later.’

you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. ‘okay. love you.’

‘love you more, mi amor.’

and just like that, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

october is diabolical (i feel u bro 💔.)

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

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

✮ Don’t Shy Away - Alejandro Balde

alejandro balde x childhood bsf!fem!reader

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

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

warnings: not really tbf.

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

he’d asked you to be here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you grumble, crossing your arms. “seriously?”

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

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

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

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

“qué i don’t—”

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

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

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

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

not after defending yourself so promptly.

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

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

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

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

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

“what do you mean not now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i know,” he replied—weak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“¿me dejarás?” (will you let me?)

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

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

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

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

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

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