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#purinfelix
purinfelix · 4 months
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"scratchy"
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pairing: gavi x reader (established relationship) summary: you love your boyfriend's new look, but it proves a slight challenge when it comes to kisses warnings: none! w/c: 712
a/n: when i made this post abt this idea after seeing the pics at first i wasn't expecting so many ppl to like it 😭 ... so i'm really hoping i did it justice !!! pls enjoy !!!
taglist for this fic! (love u all <3): @gadriezmannsgirl @emz2092 @spidybaby @goldenalbon @gavisuntiedboot @zowanew
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“Baby,” you cooed, trying your best to sound apologetic and not burst into a fit of giggles at the sight of your boyfriend standing at the corner of your bed like a sad puppy. The pet name only seemed to make things worse though, his pout deepening as he shrugged off your attempts to use affection to win him back.
With a soft sigh, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows so you could look at him properly - and so he could properly see the remorse and guilt on your face.
”I already said I’m sorry,” your tone was soft - at least as soft as you could manage whilst holding back laughter at how adorable he looked - “please just come back to bed so I can make it up to you.”
“I can’t believe you pulled away from my kiss.”
“I’m sorry!”
“Did you not want it?” his brows were furrowed in confusion as if the concept of you dodging his show of love was genuinely puzzling to him. It was equal parts endearing and heart-breaking.
”It’s not that, it’s just that …” you trailed off, eyes already busy scanning your boyfriend’s face. All of his familiarly handsome features laid bare for you, his deep brown eyes looking at you with an intensity that could only be accompanied by his perfect lips which were twisted into a frown.
Still, you couldn’t help but let your faze drift to the most recent addition to his look - a tiny bit of stubble that dotted his jawline and upper lip. You hadn’t really noticed how dark his facial hair had gotten until just now, when he had swooped in for a kiss and the short hair had scratched against your face. It was an odd feeling, to say the least, and you had pulled back without thinking much of it, your face twisted into an expression of discomfort.
You were brought back to the current time when your boyfriend cleared his throat, urging you to continue your explanation.
“It’s just that,” you pause for a moment to let his brows raise in curiosity, “your facial hair - it’s a bit scratchy.”
At your confession, his accusatory stance dropped as his shoulder drooped slightly. “I thought you liked it though,” he said in a tiny quiet voice, not even looking up at you as he said it.
You hurried to assure him. “I do! I think it makes you look more mature, more manly, more …” you paused once more, searching for just the right word to express your appreciation for his new look, ”more handsome.”
This seemed to do the trick, as a sheepish smile spread across his face before he lunged onto the bed beside you. He buried his face into his pillow, both to stifle a fit of boyish giggles and to hide the pink blush your compliment had caused. You couldn’t help yourself from running a hand through his hair, before cupping his face and pulling it gently to face you. Instinctively he leant in for a kiss with his passionate roughness and you had to stop him once more.
“Gently,” you reminded him, not needing to speak much louder given how close his face was to yours. He understood you perfectly though, moving smoothly with a gentle tentativeness as he connected his lips to yours, cautiously avoiding rubbing his facial hair against your face. He let out a satisfied hum, almost melting into the kiss he had been waiting so long for.
Finally, though, your lips parted as he pulled away - eager to ask another question.
“You really don’t mind the beard?” he withdrew the hand that had been previously wrapped around your waist to rub at his own jaw.
“I don’t know if I’d call it a beard just yet baby, but I do like it. I’d like you with any look,” you assured him with a soft giggle.
“What if I went bald?”
A slight pause as you thought. “Maybe not.”
Gavi only chuckled at this, pulling you in once more for another kiss - and you didn’t have to remind him this time as he kissed you with such gentleness it made your heart flutter purely with how precious it made you feel.
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lilirari · 4 months
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— 10 songs i’ve listened to lately ☆
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📌 tagged by @leclercloml ! <33
🏷️ tagging : @zowanew, @landitolover, @goldenalbon, @amoosarte, @purinfelix, @pauloispretty, @nouvellevqgue, @lovenymphh (if you've already done it, then you can ignore this ! also it's not necessary to do it so if you're not upto it, it's completely fine ^^)
📃 rules : list 10 songs that you’ve been listening to lately.
💭 author's note : i had so much fun doing this !! this made me realise that i haven't listened to k-pop in a while though 😞 a few oldies bc why not ? i love love love old rock bands 🫶 and i 💜 chase atlantic <3
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♡ "slut!" (taylor's version) — taylor swift
♡ all of the girls you loved before — taylor swift
♡ moonlight — chase atlantic
♡ slow down — chase atlantic
♡ keep on loving you — cigarettes after sex
♡ reflections — the neighbourhood
♡ still loving you — scorpions
♡ come as you are — nirvana
♡ love. — wave to earth
♡ tumblr girls — g-eazy (something about this song reminds me of frenkie y'all won't understand)
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ortegavi · 3 months
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RULES: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell us about it. Then tag as many people as you have WIPs. If you don't write, list your art WIPs!
some of my wips don’t actually have titles (yet) so i came up with some names just for this post lol, ignore how silly/dumb they sound 😭
you die (just to get in again)
some nights (they get so bad)
sunshine riptide
campeones
pretend w/ pookie
i don’t want this feeling (i can’t afford love)
flip flop valentine
streamer covid quarantine college dorm mates identity reveal
TAGGING: @purinfelix <3
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purinfelix · 1 month
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plsplsplspslpsl write calling bf barca boys (pedri, fermin, joao) + jude bellingham "bro"
"bro"
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featuring: pedri, fermin, joao, gavi (i had to include my bby sorryyy!) and jude warnings: teensy bit cringe at times, be warned ...
a/n: once again apologising for being ia, but an eternal thank you to anon and every one else who's still interacting with me and sending me requests!! trying my best to get through them, thank you all for your patience &lt;333
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You don’t remember how it had happened honestly, the two of you had just been hanging out in his bedroom, a situation you had come to find comfort in since its frequency had become almost like a routine to the two of you. The air outside was cool, giving the two of you an excuse to curl up together under the blanket and binge watch episodes of your favourite show in a comfortable silence. That was, of course, until you heard the chime of your phone - causing you to perk up out of your boyfriends arms.
“Bro, could you get that for me?”
Pedri
Honestly he doesn’t think much of it at first, since your guys’ relationship has always been pretty casual in the way that you both trust each other enough not to overreact. He reckons that it probably slipped out by accident, and given that it’s what most of his teammates and friends call him, he doesn’t react that much. Sure, he noticed it, and filed it away to the back of his mind as a sign that you might be mad with him but he’s a pretty calm boyfriend only offers an amused eyebrow raise.
It’s only when he leans over and grabs your phone do you realise what you’ve said - but only decide to double down on it to get a reaction out of him.
“Thanks bro,” you say as nonchalantly as you can manage when he hands you your phone, immediately going to respond to whatever message had caused the notification sound. And at first it seems like he’s not going to indulge your obvious bait for a reaction - of course until you hear the rustle of bed sheets and his strong arm snake around your waist.
He lets out a soft mumble that roughly translates to - “What is it baby?” - as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in a loving, yet almost pleading manner. It doesn’t take long for you to give in to his charms.
“I’m only messing with you,” you giggle, patting the top of his head reassuringly.
Fermin
If there’s one thing you know about Fermin, it’s that he’s observant. However, another thing about him is that he’s a sly little shit. So whenever he feels he can sense you trying to prod at his temper it only ends in him serving you back your own attitude.
“Of course, bro,” he says, and even though you’re not looking at him as he turns to grab your phone, you can tell he has a wide smirk spread across his face.
You only give him a knowing look, and try your best to maintain your composure while stifling your laughter - but the minute he drops your phone into your hands you know he’s not going to back down on this.
“Thanks, dude,” you quip.
“Any time, my man.”
Silence, and you’re trying to figure out your next comeback while ignoring the weird way him calling you ‘my man’ made you feel. You feel oddly stupid for starting a game you know you couldn’t keep up with, but luckily your boyfriend has already caught wind of this by the look of amusement on his face.
“Something wrong, mate?” he chuckles as he leans over to peck your lips that you hadn’t realised had formed a pout. All you can do is sigh in faux-exhaustion before erupting into a fit of laughter.
Joao
It’s only once he’s reached over to grab your phone, that he clocks the odd new nickname. Immediately, but silently, his mind starts racing through the possible reasons as to why you’ve bestowed it upon him - did he do something wrong? He did only kiss you twice before leaving for training that morning, and he did accidentally move away from you when the two of you were cuddling earlier. He’s worried, but he’s also up to play your game if need be.
His grip on your phone tightens, and you hear his voice low, daring - “What was that darling?”
You truly meant it as an accident this time, and he manages to snap you out of it with his words. “Oh, sorry, babe,” you correct yourself and he nods as if to silently say that’s better.
You get your phone from him, and a quick kiss on the cheek before he settles back to wrapping his arms around you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck so he can look at your phone next to you.
Gavi
Whilst something like being called “bro” might not matter to most other guys, it definitely did to your boyfriend. His reaction to your words was immediate, his head whipping up from where he had been laying beside you, eyes round and pleading.
“What?” his voice was quiet, almost unbelieving and you had to try your best not to laugh at how dramatic your boyfriend’s reaction was. Still, a small chuckle escapes your lips, only making you feel worse as a small pout forms from his lips.
“Sorry, it slipped out,” you reassure him, reaching up a hand to stroke his cheek lovingly. He furrows his brows as if to pose the question - are you sure? But you only take this as a sign to mess with him, just a little more.
“What, you don’t like me calling you bro?” You’ve completely forgotten about your phone at this point.
“No, definitely not.” He’s oddly serious when he says this, but this only adds to how amused you are by this situation.
“Alright baby,” you hum out your apology, trying your best to further express this through your thumb on his cheek - and luckily he seems to get the message. Before you know it, he’s melted back into your arms, your fingers curling lazily around his hair.
Jude
“What?”
Jude is quick with it, turning to you immediately as soon as the word leaves your mouth with an expression that makes you realise your mistake all too quickly.
“Bro?” he asks again, almost daring you to repeat it, but the shocked laugh he lets out reassures you he isn’t taking it to seriously - only getting an unfair amount of amusement from your mistake.
“Whatever, babe, there,” you say in mock-annoyance, not wanting to let him get the better of you.
“Nuh-uh, you called me bro,” he pushed, leaning in close to you, his voice teasing.
“It was an accident, okay?”
“Sure,” he hums, finally grabbing your phone and handing it to you, all the while having a stupid smirk on his face, “I’ll just have to start calling you mate or something, yeah?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter through pouted lips and he finally gives up the act, settling back by your side and pecking your cheek as an apology.
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purinfelix · 6 months
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softly ₊˚⊹♡
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pairing: gavi x reader (established relationship) summary: in which Gavi realises his touches can mean more than just post-goal 'good jobs' warnings: none! pure fluff <3 w/c: 496
a/n: this one's pretty short, just so endeared by gavi's touchyness with EVERYONEE ... those clips of him giving his teammates kisses after games/goals are my greatest weakness
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Gavi was used to physical affection. 
As a football player, and honorary ‘baby’ of pretty much any team he played with, saying he was used to it was more of an understatement at this point. Rough hugs, head nudges, and even playful smacks on the behind were nothing he was unused to. It was his way of showing and recognising the joy that came when goals were scored, when he wanted to wish a teammate good luck, or even just hello. 
So when you two began going out he had not expected it to be any different. And at first, it wasn’t. The rowdy touches he was used to dishing out and receiving were simply translated into your relationship. He would jump onto you and smoosh your face in his hands, whilst you returned the favour by punching his arms and even playfully biting him from time to time. You liked to call it ‘cuteness aggression’, and even though he definitely didn’t consider himself ‘cute’ he was grateful nonetheless. 
Because, until then, it was the only way he had known to show affection - and assumed it was the same for you.  But for some reason, there was something within him that yearned for more. For things to be softer, gentler, more intimate between you two. He wanted your relationship and everything that came from it to be the exception to all of the roughness he gave and got, the chaos that was his life. 
And so it did, with a little effort on his part. He managed to teach himself to make his touches softer. Clambering hugs became lingering embraces. Wrist grabs became intertwined fingers and thumbs caressing the back of your hand. Lips smashing into foreheads became peppering kisses down your cheek and jawline. It didn’t take you long to catch on and start following along - although it was difficult not to be completely enamoured with how bewitched he was by you, acting as if any touch not fueled by absolute care and love seemed unfitting. 
For many it might’ve seemed like a lack of passion, the way his touches lost their roughness. But for you, it only felt the opposite, because you knew that there was something about the quiet of it, the intimacy, that only the two of you would ever know. Because you were the only person who was ever granted the chance of seeing Gavi like this. Of knowing the feeling of his fingers weaving beaten paths through the roots of your hair, or the feeling of his head resting on your chest as it rose and fell with the rhythm of calm breaths. In places away from teammates, cameras, stadiums of cheering fans and their watchful eyes. In the company of no one else but each other, where not even a word had to be shared. Touches that used to mean ‘hello’, ‘goodbye’, and ‘good job’ came to mean so much more. 
Came to mean ‘I love you’.
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purinfelix · 5 months
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Hello! I love your writing 💕 can i request something fluff with gavi?
post-match routine ˙✧˖°
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pairing: gavi x reader (established relationship) summary: your plans for post-match cuddles with your boyfriend are interrupted when he debuts a new haircut at a game warnings: none - just fluff !! w/c: 988
a/n: thank you sm for the rq and kind words anon!! <33 i had an idea to write smth like this a while ago (when gavi first cut his hair lol) but i'm missing him a lot now so :"") here it is - consider it a love letter to his long and fluffy hair
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The jingle of keys echoing through your empty apartment alerted you of your boyfriend’s arrival home after a match. You craned your neck from your spot on the couch, where you had made yourself comfortable to doom scroll on your phone. Due to an overload of work you had had to miss this game, but had just been catching up on its events after finally muscling your way through your workload. The boys had won, of course, but there was something else that had caught your eye when looking through match highlights  - your boyfriend’s hair. 
You almost didn’t believe it when you saw the clips of him walking out from the locker room, seeing how short he had cut his hair almost sent you spiralling. Obviously, you would still love him nonetheless, but his fluffy hair had always been one of your favourite things about him. And now, it was just so short. And you may or may not have taken to your various social media platforms to express your disdain for it, which you may or may not have overexaggerated for the sake of humouring his fans. 
As you heard the door swing open though, you tossed your phone aside to focus your attention solely on the heaving mass that was your boyfriend as he staggered in. He really looked like hell, and you weren’t just talking about his new haircut, you would choose to bite your tongue on that for now. After an intense match, without having been subbed off once, he stood there sweaty, visibly aching with a pained expression. 
“Hello baby,” you coo smoothly, watching as the bags he was only just holding onto fell to the ground around him. Usually after long matches, espeically one’s you couldn’t attend, Gavi would come home and collapse into your arms. It was his way of ‘recharging’ before getting cleaned up. 
But today was different. He simply stood there, swaying side to side - although you were sure this was more a result of the unstoppable force of fatigue than any actual deliberate choice of his. There was one feature though that told you all you needed to know - a familiar pout spread across his face as he looked down at his own feet. 
“You really hate my hair that much?” His tone was quiet, his voice nothing more than a small, meagre ask. He must’ve seen your tweets, and your story, and maybe the few messages you had sent to him in the blind flurry that had followed first seeing his hair. You almost felt bad, hearing how guilty he sounded and it took everything within you not to give into your cuteness aggression and smother him right there and then. 
“No,” you let out a soft laugh, “I was only kidding,” 
“But, your tweets … and your stories …” he began, sounding so upset you couldn’t help but interrupt him. 
“It’s not my favourite of your looks, but I still love you, hm?” 
“Oh, thank god …” Gavi let out weakly, followed by a sigh of relief as if he had been waiting an eternity just to hear those words. Finally he managed to stagger over to where you were, albeit unsteadily, before collapsing onto you. 
You let out a soft exclamation at the feeling of your boyfriend’s entire body weight pressing down on you, a feeling you had come to not only find familiar but also a great deal of comfort in. He was sticky with sweat and his body radiated a heat you could only barely stand. But despite this he was still your boyfriend, your Gavi, and so you did the only thing you knew to do - wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. 
He let out a croak of thanks at this, shifting into a more comfortable position with his head turned to the side as he offered you a weak smile. 
“You played well today,” you mumble endearingly. 
“You say that every game,” he was quick to respond, even through the fatigue his attitude was strong. 
“Not my fault you play well every game,” you shot back even quicker, fingers coming up to delicately brush away the stray strands of hair stuck to his forehead. You let your fingers dance across his face, his cheeks, his eyebrows, each touch softer than the last. He only let out a hum in response, closing his eyes at the feeling he’d come to love far more than he’d ever admit. 
You two sit in silence for a while, and you had thought your boyfriend had drifted off to sleep on your chest as it would’ve been far from the first time he had. Rather though, he had just been listening in silence to your heartbeat, ear pressed to your chest, rising with each breath. Suddenly, the silence was broken by his soft voice coming once more. 
“Do you really think Pedri’s hair is nicer than mine?” You weren’t even looking but you could tell these words were coming from pouted lips. He must’ve been making reference to one of the throwaway tweets you had made about his haircut, because you could barely remember now. 
“Maybe,” you start, but as you watch his eyebrows furrow you’re quick to change your answer, accompanied by a laugh, “No, of course not.” 
At this, Gavi smiled, letting out a soft laugh of his own - music to your ears. He used what was left of his diminishing energy to take your hand, which up until now had been softly stroking his nape, and press it languidly to his lips. It was about as much affection as he could show in his tired state and you knew that all too well as you gazed down at him fondly. 
“You’ll be the death of me someday,” was the last thing he confessed, barely above a whisper but loud enough that you caught it, before drifting off to sleep.
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purinfelix · 5 months
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loved the recent trent fic!! you write so well 🤩 would love more trent works w any trope or theme! take this as a formal request :)
oblivious ✮⋆˙
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pairing: trent alexander-arnold x reader summary: trent's attempts at making moves on the new media intern keep failing, and he has no idea why, until he enlists his teammates help warnings: none - just two idiots and miscommunication w/c: 2.7k
a/n: thank u sm for the req anon!! hope u enjoy this <33 i feel like i say this with half the stuff i write but istg i did not expect this being this long ... i just love trent sm writing for him seems so easy 😭
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Trent felt like he was losing his mind, and it was all your fault. 
Of course, he wouldn’t dare say that to your face, because in reality it wasn’t really your fault - he just wanted something else other than the possibility of you not liking him back to blame for why none of his moves seemed to be getting through to you. 
It wasn’t your fault that you had shown up for your first day as a media intern, lanyard pass hanging from your neck, in an outfit so cute he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him when you introduced yourself. It wasn’t your fault either that his hand had trembled when he stretched it out to shake yours. And it definitely wasn’t your fault that, on this first day alone, he had missed 7 whole passes just because his eyes seemed to keep drifting to where you were watching from the sidelines. 
He couldn’t blame any of these things, nor the flurry of butterflies that rendered him speechless everytime he caught eye of you, on any fault of your own. But surely, after almost two weeks of unsuccessful attempts to garner your affection, there had to be something other than his own incompetence at play. 
First, there had been the training session a couple of days after your first, where he had finally worked up the courage to ask you for your number. Wiping his clammy palms on the back of his shorts, he had tried his best to walk up to you in as casual a way as possible - the last thing he wanted to do was creep you out before you even got to know each other. You had been in the middle of packing away some of the camera equipment you were borrowing, to which he offered to help. An offer you gratefully took up with a smile so charming he had to hold back from telling you he’d do anything you asked him right there and then. 
“Hey, you know, I was sort of wondering if,” he sucked in a quick breath of air to calm his nerves, and stop himself from rambling like an idiot, “if I could get your number? You know, in case you wanted to know your way around or if I have any questions about the media plans?” 
He attempted to flash his signature smile in order to conceal how nervous he was, and also how horrible both his excuses for needing your number were. Somehow he had decided it would be better to frame it as a casual, business-related request, to minimise the chances of rejection. But it seemed this wouldn’t be enough. 
“Oh, well I’ve already been shown around already and if you have any questions you can always contact the main media department! Here, I’ll jot down their number and email for you.” You shot him a warm smile as you bent down to pull a pen and notepad out of your back pocket, whilst Trent just stood there, frozen.
Sure he had left practice with a number but it wasn’t your number, and almost immediately he started coming up with a list of reasons why. Maybe you were trying to be nice, or thought he actually needed help. Maybe he had come on too strongly and scared you off, or perhaps you were already in a relationship. Or maybe, just maybe, you really were uninterested in him and were trying your best to let him down gently. The last was the most painful to accept, but somehow it was the one his mind kept circling back to.
Then, a couple days later, he had somehow managed to rebuild his confidence enough to decide to try to get to know you gradually, naturally, through conversation. Which was what he was attempting to do the entire time the team had been setting up for a photoshoot showing off the new kit with the help of the media crew, and of course, yourself. 
But once again, it seemed like luck was not on his side, because every time he tried to talk to you he would get swept away for a makeup check or outfit change or to be asked for his opinion on the damn lighting. All of this he could really care less about, but knowing you were watching on forced a smile on his face as he tried his best to get through all these tedious formalities as quickly as possible, so that he could get to you. 
Before he could though, he found himself sat in front of a camera, next to Dominik, trying his best to maintain his composure as he watched you fiddle around behind it. You were trying your best to be helpful, picking things up off the ground and rushing here and there trying not to geek out over actuall getting to witness a photoshoot in real time. It was almost too endearing for Trent to watch, evidenced by the almost goofy looking smile plastered across his face. 
“Yes, exactly like that Trent!” he heard the photographer call out, followed by a blinding flash of white light as he took his picture. You looked up at this of course, scurrying over to where he was, and Trent could almost hear his heart beat rising just knowing your eyes were on him. That was all he needed for another swell of confidence to hit him. 
“How do I look?” he called out, making sure to look directly at you so that his intentions couldn’t be misconstrued again. This seemed to catch you off guard though, as he watched your eyes shoot open in surprise, stuttering a little before he heard your response. 
“You look really good,” you said, and Trent’s smile only grew wider. That was of course, until you continued, “I think the new kit looks great on you guys!” Of course. 
From beside him he felt Dominik nudge his side, already sensing his teasing intensions. “Yeah, she said ‘you guys’ so don’t get too cocky now,” his teammate laughed, and Trent only shrugged off his mocking. Instead, he was more focused on you and how earnestly your tone had been that he couldn’t even find it in him to get frustrated with you for not taking his hints. That’s all he seemed to be able to do though, watch you, in the least creepy way possible - an awkward, slightly confused, smile on your face, clearly not understanding what his teammate had said. 
And this sort of scenario would only repeat numerous times over the next two weeks - Trent trying his absolute hardest to drop the most obvious hints at your feet only for you to look at them with that adorable gaze and walk off without entertaining them. He had lost count of how many times he had offered to carry your bags or equipment to which you had only responded with something along the lines of “Thanks, but I’ve got it!”, cheery as ever. He had even brought you coffee one morning, which you had accepted gratefully - and when taking it from him the graze of your fingers across his was enough to make him flustered. However, you clearly hadn’t noticed that he had written his own number on the napkin wrapped around it, which he watched you crumple up and toss away without a second glance. 
Small talk was far from his strong point but he had tried time and time again to start up conversations with you, which offered him some peek into your persona, but never enough before he was interrupted by the coach yelling at him to get back to practice or a teammate, clueless to his mission. Even so, if it weren’t for these tiny interactions with you he might’ve given up by now, but each one, drip-fed to him like a tired hamster running on a wheel, only made him more desperate to get closer to you. But he was just about to lose it. 
After yet another practice session, which proved that he was getting slightly better at passing whilst under your watch, but not any better at talking to you, he had trudged his way into the lockeroom. 
“It’s no use!” he sighed, slumping down on the nearest bench as if his frustration was taking a physical toll on him. 
“Oh cheer up Trent,” Robertson chided as swung an arm around the right-back’s shoulder, “I’m sure some day you’ll be able to match my pace.” 
“Lay off him Robbo,” Dominik laughed from the other side of the lockeroom, “it’s clearly not that. He’s been trying to get with that new media intern but they keep dodging all his passes.” 
“Funny football pun,” Virgil chimed in, clearly amused by this mention of gossip. 
“Oh you can’t be serious,” Robertson said, turning to Trent, “That’s what you’ve been doing? I was wondering what had gotten into you when you kept trying to talk to them and offering to hold all their stuff.” 
“Look, even you lot have noticed it! So either they’re ignoring all my hints or they’re just straight up disinterested.” Trent huffed, unaware of his teammates looking on with slightly amused pity. 
“I don’t think it’s either of thoes Trent,” Virgil hummed, “I mean, have you actually told them you’re interested in them? Directly, without trying to be vague or suave or anything.” 
A beat of silence aside from the whirring of the cogs in Trent’s mind. 
“... No.” 
“Sounds to me like you just need to get them alone so that they’ll actually hear you out once you do tell them directly. Seems like you need some help from ol’ Robbo hey?” Robertson gestured to himself, smiling goofily. 
“Yeah because you’re such the lady killer,” Dominik snickered, ignoring his teammate’s offended scoff before adding “Don’t worry Trent, we’ll all pitch in, it won’t just be Robbo.” 
“Thanks guys,” Trent sighed, too tired to question whether he was making the right decision or not. 
Although maybe it would’ve been worth rethinking his decision to let his teammates ‘help him out’ for a little longer. Because now, as he stood alone in one of the meeting rooms in the club building, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a bad choice. For the past five minutes he had been pacing anxiously up and down the length of the room, nothing but the hum of the ventilator and a few chairs laying askew to keep him company.  
Honestly, he had had a bad feeling about this ever since Robertson had told him to wait in the meeting room after practice, without any further explanation. Ever since their talk the previous day he had been revising the words he was going to tell you, as directly and clearly as possible to make sure that he didn’t mess up what he saw as his last shot. His adrenaline was still pumping high from the training session, and he really should’ve showered before coming here because now the paranoia of smelling bad was just another addition to his endless list of concerns. 
Suddenly though, he heard the creak of a door behind him. Whipping his head around he locked eyes with you as you slowly creeped out from behind it, somehow looking more lost and confused than he was. 
“Hi,” he heard himself croak out, feeling all the words he had prepared hitch awkwardly in his throat. 
“Hey,” you responded, voice charming as ever as you walked over to where he stood - face showing a slightly embarrassed expression at having caught him in the middle of what seemed like an awkward solo pacing session. “Robertson told me I was supposed to come to the meeting room, I’m not in trouble or anything am I?” 
Trent made a mental note to tell Robbo off later solely for having made you worry, but that would soon be lost under the sweeping realisation that the two of you were alone. Albeit, in one of the least romantic places possible, but alone nonetheless. 
“Oh- Well-” this realisation had only seemed to turn him into a babbling idiot. “It’s not that- You’re not in trouble, don’t worry. He probably only told you that because I wanted to talk to you.” 
The sigh of relief you had been letting out was cut short as your eyes flicked back up to him, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Oh? What about?” 
He swallowed hard, this was it. With fists clenched he sucked in a quick, but deep breath, trying not to let the fact that you were standing mere steps away looking so effortlessly adorable, distract him. 
“I was wondering if-” he could hear his internal voice cheering him on - C’mon mate.
“-maybe you wanted to-” Spit it out.
“- go get a coffee sometime?” Not exactly, but good enough 
“A coffee?” you perked up at this, and your smile alone was enough to relieve the nerves that had been building in his chest ever since you had entered the room, “I’d love to!” 
Oh thank f-
“I mean, that sounds like a great idea for team bonding! We could invite all the guys and then the media team could get some great shots out of it and-” 
Relief truly is short lived. 
“No- like just us. Like, as a date.” 
Both of you seemed to be shocked when Trent said this. You, for obvious reasons, stood there, mouth slightly agape with your eyes widened. Trent, on the other hand, was surprised at how quickly and firmly he had said it, but considering that it was the accumulation of over two weeks of frustration, he wasn’t that surprised. Instead, he just watched you silently piece everything that he had done over these two weeks together. The smiles, the small talk, the coffee. All of these had been more than just friendly gestures, even if it had taken you this long to figure it out. 
“Like, as a date,” you echoed his words quietly, in disbelief almost, and he could only nod shakily in confirmation. “I’d love to.” 
Trent felt his heart swell, threatening to burst out of his chest, upon finally hearing your sweet response to the question that had been on the tip of his tongue ever since laying eyes on you. And he made this as evident as possible, letting out a loud sigh as all the nerves and stress that had been building up, finally left him, and were replaced by a much more pleasant feeling. 
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he said through thankful laughter, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re, like, really oblivious?” 
“I may have heard that once, or twice,” you admitted sheepishly, unable to hold back from sharing his laughter. Suddenly though, a buzzing from your pocket cut through the moment, causing you to whip out your phone and scan it quickly. 
“Uh, damn, it’s getting late, I should go.” You were already spinning to head out the door, before you were stopped. 
“Wait!” Trent made his way over to you quickly, almost desperate in his movements not to let this last chance slip away once he had finally made something of it, “Do you think I could have your number? You know, to text you the details for coffee.” 
“Oh! Of course,” you laughed at your own stupidity for not realising this sooner, quickly pulling out the same notepad you had used almost two weeks ago, only this time using it to jot down your own number. As you handed it to him, your fingers lingered in his palm for a second, barely noticeable but enough to send a signal to him, one that said you felt the same, and had been for the past two weeks despite your inability to express this. 
You headed for the door, waving him a goodbye before shooting him a quick, playful smile. “See you, Trent!” you called out before disappearing down the hallway.
Trent just stood there, slightly in shock, but more so in a haze of elation, an almost embarrassingly wide smile finding itself across his face. To think the tiny slip of paper he was holding was the result of over two weeks of continuous, frustratingly tedious effort, much of it failing, was sort of embarrassing. But, thinking about this only made him cherish it all the more, as he held it close to his chest, smiling to himself.
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purinfelix · 6 months
Text
force of habit ♡₊˚•.
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pairing: joão félix x reader (established relationship) summary: joão has a nervous habit that comes out before games, but you're just the thing to calm his nerves warnings: none!, pure fluff w/c: 1.1k (did someone say over-writing?)
a/n: aaa first ever writing post !! wrote this because i noticed joão has a tendency to bite at his nails in a lot of clips (and also just because i never ever ever stop thinking about his hands. like ever) hope you guys like it !! <3
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“João.” your voice was soft, but stern as you watched your boyfriend catch your eye in confusion. 
It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence at this point, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel like a total hypocrite. You had an abundance of bad habits yourself. You picked at your skin when you were stressed, struggled with waking up early and could never seem to get out of leaving things until the absolute last minute. 
And somehow, being a pro football player didn’t stop your boyfriend from falling into the same trap. He got frustrated easily, would always forget to pick up after himself, and constantly ate your leftovers in the fridge no matter how often you told him not to. But one habit seemed to bother you the most: the way he would bite his nails. 
It wasn’t the act itself that bothered you really, lord knows your habits were far more irritating. Rather it was what it signified to you - that he was worried about something, bothered or annoyed at the situation at hand - that riled you up so much. And the fact he never seemed to notice he was doing it only made it worse. 
At first, when you two had first met and still fell into being smitten with one another, you hadn’t minded it. Mostly because you’d hardly noticed it, only noticing him do it occasionally. But it was only once you started dating, and seeing each other far more often, that its seriousness became apparent. 
You could give him a thousand reasons why he should stop doing it, but you knew he would hardly care, and if he did it wouldn’t be easy for him to stop doing something that seemed like second nature, which was why you made it your mission to help him.
Or try to. 
Which was what you were doing - the two of you standing across from each other in the narrow corridor leading to the locker room. The time until his next game ticked away slowly but you had yet to break your tradition of spending time together beforehand - João always insisting you were his ‘good luck charm’, as cheesy as it sounded. 
His eyes caught yours at the sound of his name, blinking cluelessly at first. Slowly though, he caught on, retreating his hands from his mouth and mumbling a quick “sorry” as he did. You sighed. 
“It’s alright, you’re that nervous for this match, hm?” you said, stepping a little closer and pocketing the phone you were holding so that you could take both his hands in yours. He nodded, breath hitching in his throat at your sudden closeness. Even though you were a couple now (officially, hard launched, announced to the public, however, you wanted to put it), he was yet to get used to your boldness when it came to things like physical affection. 
“I’ve got to prove myself today, you know?” His hands trembled slightly as you interlaced your fingers with his, giving them a soft squeeze in an attempt to steady them. 
“Don’t worry, you’ll do good as always.” You ran your thumb across the back of his hand, turning it around to get a look at his fingernails, “And remind me to file your nails when we get home.” you added, half-jokingly, half-seriously. 
He only laughed in response, but it was a weak one that signified the remnants of some last-minute nerves. His neck whipped around as he looked up and down the hallway, legs bouncing as he did, relentlessly. You were somewhat used to watching him like this, to the point you had come to find it endearing how he tried to convince everyone around him, and even himself, that he was fine - even if everything else made it obvious he wasn’t. Not like he was ever in the wrong in doing so though, as you watched the clock on the wall tick over to just less than half an hour before the match. You know being nervous only made him play worse, so you knew you’d have to come up with some way to calm him down, and do so fast. 
“You uhm-” you hesitated for a second before letting it out like a sight, “You look really good in your kit.” 
This seemed to catch him off guard, shown by his widened eyes and the soft blush spreading across his cheeks. He leant in a little closer, towering over you upon hearing it as if daring you to say it again. Slowly, a smirk braced his face, his hands now the ones gripping yours. 
“You really think so?” He was irritating when he was like this, all cocky and suave, but it was an irritating you couldn’t ever seem to get enough of. 
“Yes, though if you ask again I might just change my mind,” you muttered, avoiding his keen eye knowing it would be difficult to let him go to his game if you did. You only turned to look down the hallway, trying your best to conceal a smirk. He let out a low chuckle at this, before craning his neck around to get a look at the clock. 
“I should probably go,” he said, but he kept his hands firmly gripped on theirs, still shaking slightly. 
“You’ll do well, don’t stress.” you assured him, smiling, “I’ll meet you after the game okay?” 
He nodded definitively, “Kiss for good luck?” he added, barely above a whisper. Thought with his eyebrows raised, brown eyes so pleading, and the feeling of his hands on yours, it was impossible for you not to give in. 
Tiptoeing to close the gap between you two, you pressed your lips to his. Almost immediately you felt his hands weave out of your grip and come up to cup your face gently, pulling you in as if silently asking for more. And it took every ounce of strength not to give in to him right there and then. 
“João! Either get a room or come on!” 
It seemed like you didn’t have to. You cursed Gavi silently under your breath as you reluctantly broke away from the kiss. 
“We’ll finish this once the games are over if I win.” He said in a rushed whisper, hands moving to catch a strand of your hair which he twirled around his finger mindlessly. 
“Mhm, once you win,” you corrected him, smile teasing as ever. You were about to turn to head back to your seat, front row, of course, João couldn’t have it any other way, before you spun around once more. Grabbing your boyfriend’s much larger hands in yours you pressed a soft kiss to his knuckle, catching him off guard for the second time that night. 
“Play good, for me okay?” you mumbled against the skin of his hand. 
“Of course, always,” he assured, pulling you in to leave one last kiss on your forehead before jogging off towards the locker room. 
Although, not before turning around to get one last look at his favourite ‘good luck charm’, completely unaware that the tremble in his hands had gone completely. 
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purinfelix · 5 months
Note
joao x reader angst based off of that song Nothings New by Rio Romeo. Like maybe Joao is always ignoring reader in public or smthn. 🤭
nothing's new.
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pairing: joao felix x reader (established relationship) summary: in which you learn dating a famous footballer comes with the price of secrecy warnings: angst, toxic relationships w/c: 790
a/n: ANONNN this request really hit me idk like it single-handedly brought my motivation to write back because even though it pains me, writing angst is just too fun sometimes .... its a little short but i hope you enjoy !!!
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Before Joao, you had had an ex-boyfriend who, despite being nowhere near as famous, insisted on keeping you his little secret. Most of your ‘dates’ had consisted of you sneaking in through his bedroom window or accompanying him on weekly boy's nights which left you feeling uncomfortable at best and totally invisible at worst. Your relationship, if you could even call it that, was a part of your life you were glad was over. 
Telling Joao about this hadn’t been easy, but you had seen it as an obstacle to overcome as early on in your budding relationship as possible. And you had always planned to have a mature, serious conversation with him about it - but that was before it came slipping out one evening after multiple glasses of wine and several vodka cruisers. The two of you were sharing stories of awkward first dates, childhood crushes and all other things a young couple likes to get off of their chests over a dinner date, but before you realised it he was helping you stumble back to your apartment. 
You had thrown yourself onto your couch, chest heaving as you felt a heat radiating from your flushed face. Hands gently gripped at your ankles and you leant forward to see your boyfriend trying his best to take your shoes off for you whilst you tried your best to sit upright. 
“And he had the audacity to make it seem like my fault!” you mumbled, words slurring as your hand waved about angrily. 
“What an asshole,” Joao’s voice came from somewhere behind you now, probably as he was putting away your shoes by the front door. Even through your drunken haze you could hear the sincerity and sympathy in his tone, as you reached out a hand in his direction. 
“Well, there’s a reason I broke up with him,” you laugh weakly even though there’s no joke in your words. You hear the sound of his feet padding back over to the couch and suddenly his warm hand is in yours, caressing the back of it with his thumb. Even through your half-lidded gaze you can make out his eyes, which only look back at you with an earnest expression as he speaks. 
“I don’t understand how anyone could treat you like that.” 
It’s been months since then but his words still echo in your head now, as you make yet another unsuccessful attempt to reach out for his hand as he walks ahead of you. Not so ahead that you can’t keep up, but just enough that any onlookers and paparazzi can apss the two of you off as mere acquaintances, and not a couple. 
His hand dangles by his side and you yearn for nothing more than to take it in yours, the way you did that night and the way you still do most nights - but you have to remind yourself that most of these nights you spend in the privacy of your own home with your boyfriend. Because when you’re out, in the public eye, he stops being your boyfriend and becomes Joao Felix, beloved and renowned footballer who has yet to announce a romantic relationship to the public. 
You can’t remember exactly when it started being like this, but if you had to you’d put it sometime around the start of the most recent football season. It wasn’t like he had told you that your relationship would have to stay a secret explicitly, because he had all the implications in the world to do that with. He’d talk about other footballers and their relationships and constantly quote his agents advice of “not flaunting a relationship if he wasn’t absolutely sure it would last”. 
It hurt. There was no denying it. Watching your boyfriend oscilate between the most loving person you knew and treating you like a total stranger, and trying your best not to overthink how he played the role of a disinterested stranger a little too well. And it had taken you some time to get over the idea that maybe if you had been more famous it wouldn’t have to be like this. 
But still, you lived for those times, in the privacy of your own home, when your boyfriend would return. When you would be allowed to wear his jersey, his shirt, his arm around your shoulder and not feel immense guilt about it. When he would whisper sweet nothings as apologies, and kiss you like he meant it a thousand times over. When he would show his love to you like he had nothing left to lose, and your relationship felt real again. 
You could only wait and hope for a day when you weren’t the only one who knew about it.
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purinfelix · 5 months
Note
What about Felix and famous!reader????
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pairing: joao felix x formula one driver reader summary: you're a famous formula one driver with a footballer boyfriend who's almost as famous warnings: none! some cringey couple things here and there though so be warned ...
a/n: ANON YOUR MINDD OMGG - also hope you don't mind that i made reader a formula one driver bc i think the dynamic would fit hehe also ?? first request ever AND first headcanon-style post? look at me go
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a little backstory ...
✦ It all starts at an airport - you and your team making your way to the next race whilst he and Barcelona are travelling home. Just as you’re walking through the airport terminal you manage to lock eyes with him for a split second, the sides of his lips curling into a smile. You feel yourself blush and stop in your tracks before being ushered along by your manager. You don't know it then, but the mysterious boy had also turned around to catch one last glimpse of you before your figure disappeared through the terminal gates. At least, as much of a glimpse as he could get before his teammates caught on with jeering whistles and teasing remarks.
✦ It’s just your luck that a couple of fans who had been waiting for either of your teams caught a couple clips of this moment and post it online - and it becomes the ultimate content for edits, shipping conspiracies, and videos. 
✦ From there on, things blow up. Clips of you watching his games or shots of him with your instagram posts open on his phone go viral amongst a flurry of dating rumours. 
✦ You first connect over these silly videos, but once you actually get to know each other you realise there’s actual chemistry between you two and eventually start dating - which you accidentally announce to the world after Joao scores a goal and points up to you in the stands (needless to say the internet was very happy that night) 
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✦ On attending his games - him always insisting you have the best view (especially of him), enough tickets for anyone you want to bring, and every single one of his jerseys to wear 
✦ And vice versa, him attending your races and just being so supportive of you - he never wants you to feel like you’re just a wag, and is always sure to elevate your own success and achievements over your relationship 
✦ Always wearing your merch, sharing your posts about your recent wins in races, his instagram has just become a fanpage for you at this point - and he’s totally not complaining  
✦ Football fans finding out about you through him (“Wait Joao Felix’s partner is like some athlete? I thought they were just a wag lol they’re actually cool”) and Formula One fans finding out about him through you (“You mean to tell me Joao Felix as in y/n’s boyfriend actually does stuff and isn’t just their trophy boyfriend???”) 
✦ With that being said, your relationship does involve some long-distance periods because of both of your professions but both of you put in so much effort that it works. Though it’s not easy, he definitely makes up for it whenever you two do get to meet up by spoiling you rotten and spending as much time with you as possible. 
✦ Him CONSTANTLY getting teased by the team, but never learning his lesson and continues to bring you up at every single opportunity (he can’t help it, he’s just so proud of you :(( ) 
“Dude, cmon.” Pedri huffs as another one of Joao’s shots rebound off of the goal post during a cold morning training.  “Hey cut him some slack, he’s probably thinking about his partner,” Gavi’s tone is teasing as he says this, poking at Joao’s sides as the taller boy snarls in response. Even so, he can’t help but smile a little at the mention of you.  “Can you blame me? Did you guys see them last night? They were amazing, I mean Their overtakes were amazing and going from P10 to P3 is insa-” he begins, but is cut off by the groans of his teammates around him who all go off to train on their own. He doesn’t mind though, since he’s the one who’s lucky to have a partner worth bragging about.
✦ Is quite possessive and protective, not because he doesn’t trust you to be loyal or take care of yourself but because he knows what kinds of dangers being famous can pose and he wants to be able to help you through them. 
✦ Whenever you attend award ceremonies together his hand never leaves your waist, partially because he feels a little awkward without you (introvert bf things) but also because he just likes the feeling of having you close to him at all times 
✦ OMG you guys have such a Barbie and Ken dynamic - esp that one audio that’s like “Barbie has a great day every day, but Ken only has a great day if Barbie looks at him.” 
✦ Overall you guys are generally adored by everyone, as much as Felix gets teased by his teammates, fans, and media outlets alike <33 
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And a little something extra for my formula one / football girlies - I present to you: Carlos the Madridista reacting to you dating a Barcelona player 
“No, I will not have this.” Carlos throws his hands up in frustration as he begins to walk away from you two. It’s Joao’s first time visiting you on the grid since you’ve ‘officially’ announced your relationship, and you wanted to introduce him to someone you considered a big brother. Only thing was, you had forgotten how deep the rivalry between the team Carlos supported, Real Madrid, and your boyfriend’s team ran.  “Carlos, please,” you sound exasperated but in reality you’re trying to hold back laughter at how dramatic his reaction is.  “You didn’t tell me your boyfriend was a Barcelona player?”  “What does it matter?”  “How could you?!” Carlos exclaims, his voice making it clear how betrayed he feels at your decision. Next to you, your boyfriend tenses up - you can tell how nervous he is to be meeting your group of friends and so you take his hand in yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. Even so, this entire situation is hilarious to you.  “Oh get over yourself,” you huff.  Eventually, you manage to get the two of them to sit down and have a proper man-to-man conversation in which they realise they have more in common than they think - the most obvious being both of them caring for you which they seem to have no problem bonding over. Needless to say, Carlos’ hatred of the opposing club might’ve lessened a little that day. 
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purinfelix · 2 months
Note
Joao with actress reader 👀
just an act ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚
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pairing: actress reader x joao felix (established relationship) summary: in which your boyfriend's possessive tendencies are put to the test warnings: none! w/c: 1.1k
a/n: take a shot everytime i apologise for being ia challenge !! also this is a teensy bit rushed and i'm not entirely happy with it but, i hope it's alright !! tysm anon for the req (and for waiting for so long for me to answer it 😭)
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“Joao, you’re sure you’re okay with it?”
“How many times are you going to ask me that?” your boyfriend huffed, “I’m fine! Really!”
“You literally skipped out on training to follow me to work,” you reminded him, with a slightly teasing tone.
“So?”
You let out a sigh for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour and tried your best to maintain your composure. Around you, the atmosphere of an active film set roared with its flurry of light, noise, and movement. Neither your hair nor makeup were close to being done, and you were still standing wrapped in the plush white robe the costuming staff had given you before you changed into your outfit for your scene. Somewhere to your right you watched the director and his entourage of nervous interns scrounge around the perfect the set’s lighting, and push all of the cameras and mics in their right places. Behind you, your costar sat on his chair, waiting impatiently, ready for the scene the two of you were shooting today.
And yet, the only thing you found your attention being drawn to was the boy that stood in front of you, with floppy hair and pleading eyes and a pout that was just too hard to deny.
“So, are you sure you’re alright with this? With me kissing another man?” you repeated, slowly, growing more aware of how little time you had until the cameras were set to start rolling.
When you had come home a couple of weeks ago with the news - that the new movie you were starring in would involve a kissing scene between you and your costar - you were nervous, to say the least. You knew Joao was the type to value your career just as much as you did, and would never do anything to stop you from achieving your dreams. However, you were equally aware that he had possessive tendencies, as much as he pretended not to. Of course, he had acted casual about the news at first, telling you that as long as you were comfortable with it, he was too.
But now that the time to shoot the scene had actually come, it seemed like he was having second thoughts - evidenced by the fact he had insisted on following you to work and had spent the past hour or so hovering around as you got ready, expression equal parts nervous and stern. Despite this, you knew he’d rather die than admit how he really felt, even if you prodded him a thousand times just to say what was clearly on his mind.
“Yep! Totally fine!” he chirped out in a falsely cheery tone. The way his eyes flickered anxiously between you, and your costar waiting in the distance, seemed to suggest otherwise.
You could only rub his arm reassuringly though, offering a look that you hoped conveyed your gratefulness at the fact he trusted you enough to not get in your way, but also cared enough to be so watchful. Still, the staff around you waited for no one, and soon enough you were ushered back into your makeup chair, from which you watched your boyfriend linger behind the cameras, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.
“Joao, baby.”
You were starting to feel like a broken record at this point.
The scene had gone well, and you had only had to reshoot it a couple of times because of either you or your costar forgetting or stumbling over your lines. But the two of you had done your best to maintain an air of professionalism surrounding the intimate scene - your boyfriend however hadn’t been so well.
“I’m fine.” His tone, and the fact that his back was facing you as the two of you lay in bed together, told you otherwise.
The kiss - or kisses as Joao had corrected you - had only lasted seconds, nothing more than quick pecks in fleeting moments. You hadn’t thought much of them before, during, and now after them but it was clear he didn’t share the same sentiment.
“You said you were okay with it,” you sighed softly, trying your best to push the understanding tone in your voice.
“I am.”
“It doesn’t really seem like it.” Whilst it seemed like the bare minimum for him to let you go ahead with something your job required of you, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for him putting aside his feelings for you - or at least trying to. A part of you found it slightly adorable as well, that he was trying so hard to hide his slight jealousy - evidenced by his moody demeanour the entire afternoon after you got back from shooting.
“What makes you think that?” You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely clueless or whether he was just messing with you. Struggling against your mattress, you pushed yourself up and leaned over to him, resting your chin on his shoulder - from where you could see his side profile, and furrowed brows.
“Hmm, I wonder,” you hum, fingers moving to gently interlace his fingers with yours as a silent way of saying I know something’s wrong.
“It’s just,” he began, and you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders at finally breaking through to him, “that costar of yours, Andy or whatever his name is, seemed a little bit too into it.”
You had to stop yourself from giggling, given how sincere his words were, but you couldn’t help but find his jealousy a little bit adorable.
“Joao, his name is Andrew,” you corrected him, “and he has a girlfriend.”
“What?”
“Yeah, and she’s lovely,” you chuckled softly, relief washing over you as you watched your boyfriend break into a small smile for what felt like the first time all day. You could physically feel the tension in his shoulders melt away as he let out a sigh of relief he must’ve been holding ever since you had come home with the news.
“Thank God,” he finally mumbled, turning back around to face you as he pulled you in close. You felt his grip tightly around your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing deeply.
“Plus, it’s not like he would pose much competition anyways,” you added, laughing softly as you wrapped your arms around him. He only hummed in response, not saying much more. You pecked the top of his forehead, relishing the fact that you had finally managed to heal his mood. After all, whilst acting was your job, you knew that at times like this - away from any cameras and in the comfort of your boyfriend’s arms - none of it was an act.
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purinfelix · 2 months
Text
gorgeous ˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚
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pairing: reader x joao felix summary: when a new player joins the team you manage media for, you're eager to make a good impression - that is, until you actually catch a glimpse of him warnings: none! w/c: 1k
a/n: i've actually had this fic in the works ever since i started this blog but never managed to finish it ... i had planned for it to be longer but i like this idea too much to spoil it through overwriting so here you go <;33
♪ now playing: gorgeous by taylor swift ♪
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“I just,” you pause for a bit, eyes wondering around the empty locker room as you search for the right words, “I just don’t like him, alright?”
“Yeah, you’ve made that very clear by the fact that he’s all you’ve spoken about for the past fifteen minutes,” Pedri said sarcastically as he slung his bag over his shoulder.
You could only huff in response, fiddling with the ‘media advisor’ pass hanging from your neck. You were leaned against the doorframe of the locker room entrance, waiting for him as he did the final checks to make sure no one had left anything behind.
“What’s it to you anyways?” you piped up, trying your best to sound nonchalant as you did.
“He’s one of our newest players, and you’re part of our media team. It would certainly make things easier if the two of you got along.”
“Look, it’s not like I’m making a big deal out of it. I shook his hand, I smiled, and I took his pictures like I was supposed to. But that isn’t going to stop me from getting bad vibes from him, okay?”
“Alright, whatever you say,” Pedri said, though the slight upturn of his lip told you otherwise. Catching a glimpse of this expression prompted you to smack his shoulder playfully as you followed him out of the room and down the dimly lit hallway.
The ‘him’ in question was none other than one of Barcelona’s newest loan players: Joao Felix, to whom you had just been introduced to during an afternoon training session, and Joao’s first with his new team. Of course, the media crew had spent most of it following the pair of Joaos around, taking an endless slew of pictures and videos to commemorate their arrival.
The ‘him’ in question was no other than one of Barcelona’s newest loan players - Joao Felix, to whom you had just been introduced to during an afternoon training session, and Joao’s first with his new team. Of course, the media crew had spent most of it following the new pair around, taking picture after picture to commemorate their arrival, much to the dismay of the other players. You could’ve sworn you overheard Gavi mumbling to Fermin about how ‘unfair’ it was that the two newbies were getting so much attention and you couldn’t help but partially share his sentiment.
Even so, as a member of the team’s media crew you were determined to do your job to the best of your ability and make the best first impression possible. After the session itself had ended, you found your opportunity when you spotted Felix sitting alone, sipping from his water bottle. You walked over as casually as you could manage, and as non-awkwardly as a first-interaction between ‘coworkers’ could be. You only managed to get a few steps in his direction before he was alerted of your presence, causing his attention to turn from his bottle onto you, gaze locking onto yours.
You couldn’t describe the feeling as anything but pure shock. The greeting you had been planning in your head all afternoon seemed to disappear into thin air as soon as his eyes made contact with yours, and all that came out of your mouth was a soft, sort of strangled-sounding noise. You were frozen in place, fists clenching at your sides as your mind raced for something, anything to do.
Something to do about the embarrassing blush spreading across your face. About the quickening of your heart as it pounded in your chest. About the fact that he was looking right at you, and the fact that he was so … gorgeous. So insanely gorgeous and insanely smug, once he realised that your reaction was in fact his own fault - evidenced by the smirk spreading across his face.
“Can I help you?” his tone was low, teasing almost. He seemed to notice that you were frozen in place, standing up from his spot on the bench and deciding to meet you halfway, with smooth, easy movements. It all seemed to annoy you so much, that he could stand there and look so gorgeous, and be so seemingly aware of it too.
“Ah- well,” you began to struggle, internally cursing yourself for how flustered you sounded, “I just wanted to introduce myself, you know, since I’m part of the media crew here.”
You extended a shaky hand out to him, which he took, and you tried not to focus too much on the way his much larger hand enveloped your own.
“I’m Joao, but I’m guessing you already knew that,” the slight peak in his tone and raise of his eyebrow as he ended his sentence prompted you to return his firm grip as the two of you shook hands.
“Yeah, I did,” you say, a little sterner than you intended, all facade of civility having melted away and been replaced by pure irritation. Something about this guy, and his stupid smirk, and his dumb hair, and sparkling eyes, and strong hands and-
“Hey, Joao!” came the voice of one of your coworkers, who waved the player over with a clipboard in hand, likely to snap some more photos for the team’s social media. You felt his hand pull away from yours, ashamed at the momentary feeling of reluctance that struck you as it did. His gaze was still on you though, which you were so harshly reminded of as you locked eyes for a couple more excruciatingly difficult seconds.
“I’ll see you around then, nice to meet you.” One last flash of that smug smile was all you got before he was jogging off to your coworker, leaving you standing there, slack-jawed, cheeks flushed, hands a little sweaty yet clenched in frustration.
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purinfelix · 3 months
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show me how ⊹˚. ♡
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pairing: reader x spiderman!carlos sainz summary: your new neighbour is a mystery to you, and so is the masked vigilante that you've heard news of around your city - but the chances of them being related are impossible, right? warnings: none! w/c: 2.8k (i don't know how to write short fics i'm sorry)
a/n: after nearly a month away, i'm back !! most of it was bc i was on holiday but also bc I've had the worst writers block ... also i can't decide if i have horrible or amazing timing given the news abt lewis butttt its ok!!! just hope yall enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3333 (just note it might be a little rough ...)
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You didn’t know that much about your neighbours.
Granted, it had only been about two months since they moved into the apartment next door and for the most part, they kept to themselves. But, during this short period, you’d managed to compile a list of facts you knew about them for no reason other than pure curiosity.
You knew they hosted quests quite often, almost once a week, which you could always tell by the loud music and banter that went on late into the night whenever they did. You knew the woman of the house was an excellent cook, having often walked past their door and caught a whiff of whatever it was she was making for dinner. You knew they were a family, quite a young one, with a son who was about your age and a student at your university. You’d spotted him around campus, often donning a pair of headphones and a hoodie that silently said “Leave me alone”. You’d yet to see him smile though, which you had initially chalked up to some remnants of teenage angst, at least until you spotted him leaving the chemistry labs with an unkempt stack of notes.
Despite these facts, your neighbours were still largely an enigma to you. And for the most part, you didn’t mind - this was New York you lived in, where not knowing much about whoever lived next door wasn’t unheard of. It wasn’t like you didn’t have anything better to do than stalk them too, considering you were swamped with university work, going into your second year as a nursing major.
This painful reminder weighed down on you as you dragged your feet through your apartment door, only managing out a tired mumble as a greeting to your parents. They didn’t seem to mind though, from their spots on the couch you couldn’t make out their faces, but you could tell they were immersed in tonight’s latest news story. The bright light of the television emitted a soft glow, and you couldn’t help but lend a listening ear as you trudged past.
“This just in, reports of a masked vigilante who has been helping the local community at night,” read out the news reporter, an image of the mentioned figure showing behind him.
You couldn’t help but let out an amused scoff as you pulled your backpack higher onto your shoulder, at how ridiculous the guy looked. Even after living here your whole life you had yet to hear anything as ridiculous as some weirdo running around in a mask at night.
Pushing open the door to your dimly lit room, you collapsed onto your bed with a soft thump. The fatigue from a long day of lectures and tutorials seemed to catch up to you as your eyelids drooped and you weakly grasped at your covers in an attempt to pull them over you. Even as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, you could faintly make out the news reporter continuing.
“People are calling this figure ‘Spiderman’, due to his red and blue suit reminiscent of the bug, The individual’s identity remains unknown though, and any persons with any information are encouraged to talk to their local police about it.”
You wake to a tapping sound. It’s quiet at first, but starts to get louder and more desperate before ultimately rousing you from your sleep, confused and disoriented. You push your hair out of your face and can just make out the time on your bedside clock, which blinks “2:34am”. Wiping a line of drool dribbling down your cheek with embarrassment, you whip your neck around to locate the source of the tapping noise.
That is, until you spot it, a shadowy figure peeking out of the corner of your window. Initially, your instinct is to scream as loud as humanely possible, but instead your body freezes you in place. Resigned to just staring at the figure with eyes wide in shock, you watch in horror, as it lifts a finger to what you assume is its mouth, signalling for you to be quiet. You bob your head to signal that you understand, and your arm springs up with a mind of its own, already reaching to open the window - although whether it’s to wave it away or let it in you aren’t entirely sure.
The decision isn’t yours to make though, since the second an opening forms in your window the figure slips its fingers in and lifts it up with ease. Before you even realise it, it’s slipped seamlessly into the bedroom, your bedroom, where it stands in place. You let out a shaky breath, your hand fumbling in the darkness for you lamp which you flick on, basking your room in a warm light and illuminating the figure in front of you in all of its red and blue glory. You feel your breath hitch in your throat.
“… Spiderman?” you gasp breathlessly, and the name sounds unreal coming from your mouth, mostly because you never thougt you’d say it out loud, ever. The figure in front of you shows no reaction though, as it moves its arm, and you flinch, only before you realise it’s reaching to pull its mask off.
First pops out a long, messy mop of dark hair, which falls over his eyes just as his mask falls to the ground. Bringing up a hand, he brushed his locks out of the way to reveal a familiar face.
You’re rendered speechless, unable to do anything but let out a confused huff as you take in the features of your neighbour. Instinctively, your hand reaches out to grasp his shoulder, almost as if to make sure he’s real and not just a figment of a really really strange dream. It’s almost too much for you to wrap your head around, until he steps closer to you, further into the light, and you notice a rip in his suit not far from where your hand is, spanning from his shoulder to the centre of his chest.
You take a step back, and realise its one of many rips, some revealing gaping wounds and sores. In the light you can also notice his chest, the way it’s heaving, and the exhausted look on his face.
“Look, I’ll answer all your questions later, I just,” he pauses to chew on his bottom lip and to catch his breath, “I need your help.”
You try not to think too much about how deep his voice sounds, compared to what you expected, having never heard it before, and focus on the issue at hand. You’re inclined to do the normal thing, to turn him away, to tell this stranger to get the hell out of your room, but the desperation in his tone causes you to nod.
“Sit down,” you order, already turning to grab the first aid kit you keep on your desk. Behind you, you hear him let out a tired sigh as he sits on the edge of your bed, which groans under his weight. Kit in hand, you pull up your desk chair and scoot as close to him as you can get. It doesn’t occur to you to worry about just how close you are to your neighbour, who at this distance you’re slowly realising is a lot more attractive than you’ve ever realised, since you’re too busy worrying over his wounds.
You go through the familiar motions you’ve learnt, even with your preliminary nursing knowledge, first wetting a cotton ball with antiseptic to clean up the gory mess he’s made of himself. As soon as the cotton makes contact with his skin though, he lets out a hiss of pain, causing you to shrink back and look up at him with concern.
“Sorry,” he mumbles sternly, although the way his eye avoids yours hints at embarrassment more than anything. You try your best to work quickly, or as quickly as you can with a patient that keeps wriggling out of your touch. It occurs to you though, that this might be the best time to get some answers to your questions.
Okay, so,” you say, once you’ve finally managed to clean up all his wounds and can get to patching them up, “I think I’m owed an explanation.”
“What is there to explain?” he says, and for a moment he sounds genuinely confused - as if he’s the one who has the right to be confused in this situation - but this gives way to more of a shy tone, “I’m Spiderman, that’s all there is to it.”
“That’s all there is?” you scoff, pulling out big wads of gauze from your kit, “you don’t just become a masked vigilante overnight, tell me from the start.”
“Well actually, I kinda did,” he lets out a soft laugh, and you’re taken aback by the fact that it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him actually smile, “I got bitten by a spider one day and when I woke up the next, I had all these powers.”
“Like?”
“I mean, for one I can shoot webs.”
“What like, from your-”
“No, from my wrists,” he shuts down your question hurriedly before carrying on, “I can also stick to walls, and I have these weird tingles that tell me when things are wrong.”
“Okay,” you say, drawing out the end of your word to show that you don’t entirely believe him. “And this has been going on for, how long?”
“About a month.”
“A month?” you exclaim in shock. “What, so you’ve managed being a chemistry major on top of, being,” you pause, searching for the right word to describe what he is, “a superhero?”
“Well, it isn’t easy but- wait, how did you know I’m a chemistry major?” he leans closer to you, trying to catch your eye with a small smirk tugging at his lips, “have you been stalking me?”
“Hey, it’s not like that okay?” you mutter defensively, “You’re my neighbour, so it’s only normal I’d notice you around campus and stuff.” Avoiding his eye, you press down on a bandaid a little too hard, causing him to draw in a sharp breath, and for you to quickly apologise.
“Anyways, I’m the one asking the questions here okay?” You huff in flustered exasperation, before pausing for a bit, “Why did you come to me anyways?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he said, motioning to his injuries.
”I mean, yes, but why me? Wouldn’t you much rather your mum or dad do this instead of me?”
He’s quiet for a while, and he can’t bring himself to look at you when he speaks again.
”My, uhm, my parents don’t know about this,” he mumbles.
“Then, a sibling? A friend? Someone you actually know?”
Silence once more, only this time you’re the one to break it.
“No one knows?”
He nods. “No one except for you now.”
The weight of this realisation weighs down on your shoulders like a pile of bricks and you have to pull yourself back from the wound you’re tending to to let it sink in. Here he is, your neighbour, the Spiderman, revealing his identity to you and you only. For the first time that evening, you realise how truly vulnerable the man sitting on your bed has allowed himself to be with you and you can’t help but feel your heart flutter, as well as beat at the immense amount of pressure you know have to deal with.
“Plus, I don’t think any of them would know how to fix me up as good as a nursing student,” he adds, still avoiding your eye, but trying his best to lighten the mood. You let him.
“Oh, and I’m the stalker?”
He avoids your question. “Are you done yet?”
“Almost, one more.”
He watches you work with a quiet, resigned expression, almost fascinated with how quickly you’ve managed to tape down the gauze and conceal his wounds. You lean back to look at your work with a proud smile, closing up your kit and going to put it away.
“Thank you,” he says, and it’s the most earnest he’s sounded all night.
“Don’t sweat it, it’s not like I could turn you away in the state you’re in.” You’re trying your best to maintain a casual composure about this whole situation, even if it means being slightly awkward.
“Good point,” he chuckles, rubbing his nape sheepishly, “well, I better get going.” He’s already reaching out to slide your window up but you stop him by holding out your hand.
“Hold on, you really think you’re going to be able to climb back into your room after that? Your injuries are far too serious, you need to rest first.”
He’s a little taken aback, “For how long?”
“I’d say, at least until the end of the night.”
“If you wanted me to stay over, you could’ve just asked,” he says slyly, and for the second time that night you’re caught off guard.
“Wh- don’t be stupid, I’m the nursing student, and that’s just my professional opinion!”
“Whatever you say doc,” you catch him scanning the room once more, “but uhm, where exactly will I sleep?”
“Oh, you can take the bed, I’ve slept on the floor plenty of times.”
“Now you’re the one being stupid, this is your room, I’ll take the floor,” he insists.
You’re still unconvinced, but you can tell he’s too tired to argue with you and decide to let him win.
“Fine,” you say, the word more a sigh than anything. He looks at you, eyes soft with gratitude and you can’t help but feel a strange pang in your chest at the sight. “Let me get you a blanket at least.”
You turn around to gather a few blankets and a pillow from your closet, which you make into a makeshift bed on the floor, and he watches you the whole time, his gaze heavy on your back. When you’re done, you stand up and dust off your hands before gesturing for him to lay in it. As he does, you climb back into your own bed.
There’s a short silence filled with nothing but the rustling of blankets as the two of you get comfortable, and some soft grunts of discomfort from where he is on the floor. Finally though, the two of you lay still.
“Good night, Spiderman,” you say, forcing a lightness in your voice that you don’t quite feel given the night’s events. You’re half expecting him not to respond, but when he does you can hear the smile in his voice, even though you can’t see him.
“Carlos.”
“Huh?”
“My name, it’s Carlos. You don’t need to call me Spiderman, at least, not now.”
“Oh, right,” you feel almost bad that it sounds like you’re making a mockery of him, and you can feel an apology forming in your mouth before he speaks again.
“Goodnight, doc,” he hums, before turning off the lamp on your desk. Your room is once again plunged into darkness, and you’re left to stare up at the ceiling, and try your best to sleep despite the millions of thoughts buzzing around in your mind.
You wake again, only this time it’s to the sound of birds chirping outside of your window and the first rays of morning sun slipping through it. You blink lazily, stretching out before forcing yourself to sit up.
The first thing you notice is the absence. The floor is empty, the makeshift bed gone and instead a pile of neatly folded blankets takes its place. There’s no sign that anyone else had been in your room, let alone Spiderman.
You peer outside your window, as if looking for a trace of him, evidence that the previous night had been more than just a weird dream, but find nothing. Instead the city wakes up with you, peoples bustling about, cars honking, just like any other day. It still feels surreal, and part of you is ready to label it a dream and move on, but you know better. You remember the desperation in his voice, the tenderness in his eyes, the wounds you had tended to.
Out of the corner of your eye though, you catch sight of a yellow sticky note balanced carefully on top of the pile of blankets. Slowly you climb out of your bed and read it, the letters ‘IOU’ scrawled in a lettering that is definitely not your handwriting. It might not be much, but it’s all the confirmation you need as you whisper a silent prayer for his safety, his health, and for the two of you to cross paths once more.
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purinfelix · 4 months
Note
Helloo, can i request something with Christmas vibes with gavi?
Have a good day!
secret santa ⁺₊❆ ⁺⋆
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pairing: gavi x reader (established relationship) summary: your boyfriend starts acting strange around Christmastime and you're determined to get to the bottom of it warnings: none w/c: 1.1k
a/n: okay firstly anon tysm for the request and secondly IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREEVER im literally an idiot who can't process the concept of time and realised Christmas is like ... tomorrow so .... hope you enjoy this !!!
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Gavi had been acting strangely lately - at least, stranger than usual. And whilst you didn’t consider yourself the most observant person, even you had managed to pick up on his antics over the past couple of weeks.
It had started around the beginning of December. Usually you didn’t bother to care about what he was doing on his phone because when he wasn’t texting you, he was texting his teammates or coach about football. And he was never private about this either, not even putting a password on his phone and often getting you to answer calls and texts for him. It added a layer of trust to your relationship that you hadn’t expected at first, but had come to appreciate as second nature.
However one day, when you had been planning to carry out your favourite past time - spamming his camera roll with as many dumb selfies of yourself as possible - you had been surprised by a password prompt. And whilst it shocked you a little, you hadn’t worried too much about it, assuming he would casually mention the password to you the next time he needed you to check his phone for him.
But this time never came. Instead, and only adding to your surprise, he stopped asking you to answer his texts and calls. And if this wasn’t enough he became increasingly conscious of you watching his phone screen, often tilting away from you or glancing shiftily at you from time to time before resuming his typing.
And then there were the times away. You were by no means the clingiest partner, not like you had much of a choice when your boyfriend’s training regime was merciless to your already limited time together. But the two of you had managed to forge small pockets of time for each other, and maybe it was their limited nature that made them all the more important - in the concentration of love, affection, of care for one another. Which was why, when these became replaced with quick afternoon texts from Gavi saying he would come home a couple hours late, or when you would wake up on weekends to an empty bed, and a note that had clearly been written in a rush, you found yourself feeling fed up.
So you sought to get to the bottom of whatever had seized your boyfriend up, and caused him to act so uncharacteristically. Sure, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt - he did not seem like the type to cheat, but then again it was a possibility you just couldn’t deem impossible. And a possibility that only haunted you more and more given all of the breadcrumbs he seemed to be dropping.
Your opportunity struck when the two of you were sitting together on the couch watching your favourite Christmas movie Love Actually, which you considered a must-watch given it was almost a week until Christmas. And given that your moments spent together were rare nowadays, you wanted to spend as much time with Gavi as possible. That was, until he muttered to you softly that he had to go to the bathroom, setting down his phone on the couch before he got up.
You waited until the soft padding of his feet told you he was out of the room, then sprung up to grab his unlocked phone. Was a small part of you screaming about how wrong this was, and how you should just trust your boyfriend, yes. But was the rest of you also dying of curiosity, and partially of never-ending worry? Also yes.
That was, until you noticed a notification - a text message from Pedri.
“dude you don’t need to worry - they’ll like whatever you get them”
Your brows furrowed, clicking on the notification you scrolled up several days into the conversation between the two teammates and felt your heart almost shatter. There, laid out in front of you in digital messages was a manifestation of your boyfriend’s utmost love for you as he fretted to his friend about what kind of Christmas gift to get you.
Oh god, you were horrible.
There were pictures of several gifts, necklaces, rings, and stuffed toys, as well as messages figuring out meeting times between the two to visit shops - which you recognised as ones you had often dragged Gavi to on your outings together.
You were truly, really, horrible.
As if this wasn’t enough, a quick glance through your boyfriend’s search history showed a seemingly never-ending array of “romantic gifts for Christmas” and “how to shop for a Christmas gift for your partner”.
You were awful for ever doubting him.
You had seen enough to satisfy your nerves - and to fuel your guilty conscience - and were just about to put his phone back until you heard the creaking of floor boards behind you. Whipping your head around and trying your best to conceal your guilty expression you locked eyes with a shocked-looking Gavi.
“Hi,” you said, more of a gasp of surprise than an actual greeting.
“You,” Gavi’s tone came less annoyed or betrayed, but more of a whine, “You saw?”
You nodded tentatively. “But, I didn’t see what you actually got me! Just some of the messages and searches and-”
He groaned softly as he fell onto the couch next to you, a pout spread across his face and his brows furrowed. “It was supposed to be a surprise!” Guilt overtook you, especially as you watched the defeated expression his face. All you could do was let his phone slip from your hand, bringing it up to cup his face gently.
“I’m so sorry my love,” you cooed, trying your best to sound as apologetic as you could without giving away how endeared you were by this whole situation, by his effort, by him.
“You ruined the surprise…” he mumbled in a defeated tone, although he didn’t move away from your touch, prompting you to scoot closer.
“Hey, I didn’t see the actual gift but I’ll make it up to you” you sighed pleadingly, pecking his cheeks softly before adding “I really appreciate the thought and effort baby.”
The additional line seemed to warm him up as he let out a sigh, “You promise you didn’t see what I got you?”
“Promise.”
At that, he finally broke into a smile - one that was small but tinged with the mischievous look only someone who was planning a big surprise had. And whilst this fuelled a newfound curiosity within you regarding what exactly it was he got you, you couldn’t help but relish in the comfort of your new finding as you ran your fingers through your boyfriend’s hair, smiling as he leant into your touch.
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purinfelix · 4 months
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someone stop me before i write a fic abt reader refusing to kiss gavi bc of the scratchy facial hair and him being all pouty about it .... someone stop me .............
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purinfelix · 4 months
Note
reader being spooked by a spider and calling joao over to kill it and he’s teasing her 🥹 just super fluffy
your hero ₊˚⊹⋆
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pairing: Joao Felix x reader summary: your boyfriend saves you from an unwelcome pest warnings: none! (unless you're afraid of spiders ig) w/c: 577
a/n: HAHA i love this req tysm anon !! i will continue to push my 'joao felix as a boyfriend would be a little shit' agenda 🙏
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You’re trying your best not to fall off of the kitchen stool you’ve scrambled up on, hugging yourself as you tremble slightly. Your heart beats, loudly, quickly, and heavily, in your chest as if it’s trying to escape. The eight-legged monstrosity scurries across the floor before stopping right at the foot of your stool, almost mockingly.
A soft jingle can be heard from the other side of your apartment door and you do your best to crane your neck towards it, a struggle considering you’re paralysed in fear. Your boyfriend pokes his head through the entryway, his confusion at how silent the apartment is evident by his furrowed brows.
“Baby?” you hear him call, and you do everything you can to stop yourself from letting out a piercing shriek.
Instead you settle on a shaky, hushed, “In here!” as you listen intently for his footsteps as he nears the kitchen. He looks genuinely concerned when he spots your unusual position, until his gaze drifts down to the reason for it - a furry huntsman spider not bigger than his hand. Worry melts from his face and is replaced by an amused smirk as he holds back a laugh, which does little to settle your fear.
“Made a new friend I see,” he jokes, setting down his keys and bags on the kitchen table as he reaches for an empty glass you’ve left on the counter.
“Shut up,” you huff, “Just get it.”
He scoffs, but does as you say, approaching the spider as carefully as he can. Suddenly though, as if rekindled by a burst of energy it begins to run circles around the kitchen and your boyfriend can only try his best to chase after it. You get the perfect view of this scene unfolding from atop your kitchen stool and even in your fear-stricken panic, you can’t help but let out a small laugh before Joao finally manages to catch it under a glass.
He lets out a relieved sigh, grabbing a nearby envelope from the pile of unopened mail the two of you have amassed and sliding it gently under the cup. You’re amazed at how easily he can do this.
“He’s sort of cute, maybe we should keep him as a pet?” he teases, holding the spider up to you. You shrink back almost immediately, the disgusted expression on your face serving enough of an answer as he laughs at his own sick joke. He turns to let the creature that tormented you for the past half an hour outside and finally, you can unravel yourself from the protective ball you’ve formed on top of your kitchen-stool-haven.
“What would you ever do without me?” you hear your boyfriend chime as he comes back inside, setting the glass and envelope down on the counter before reaching out a hand to help you. You take it graciously, wobbling a little as you step down from your stool.
“Probably spend a lot more on bug spray,” you tease, patting his chest as a smirk spreads across your face.
“Good to know I serve some purpose around here,” he sighs sourly.
“I’m only kidding baby,” you chuckle, “you’re my hero.”
You watch as his expression softens into an almost embarrassed smile and his cheeks glow proudly. You can’t resist peppering his face with kisses in a silent 'thank you' for saving you.
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