mads

cross-posting on ao3: @bestiemads i always understand that reference

[bestiemads]

mads' masterlist!

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

✶ bob reynolds:

bathroom malfunction

3.5k, fluff, friends to lovers

✶ benito martinez/bad bunny:

salsa lessons (part 1)

1.6k, fluff, strangers to lovers

salsa lessons (part 2)

2.3k, fluff, situationship to relationship

✶ lamine yamal:

school trip romance

7.6k, fluff, strangers to lovers

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

[bestiemads]

salsa lessons- benito martinez/bad bunny (part 2)

summary: after the salsa class, benito invites you to be a part of his music video for baile inolvidable. this whirlwind salsa romance with bad bunny turns real during the filming of the video.

warnings: fluff

pairing: benito martinez x reader (use of y/n throughout)

word count: 2.3k

this was also cross-posted on my ao3! @bestiemads

part 1

💃💃💃

The set I pulled upon wasn’t what I expected at all. The local Puerto Rican dance studio felt too… real to be a part of such a big music video. Especially when Puerto Rico’s finest, Bad Bunny, was the star of the show.

I parked my car in one of their spots, grabbing my tote bag and water bottle from the vacant passenger seat. The melody of the song I was listening to abruptly ended when I turned off the car. Other cars were scattered throughout the parking lot, all different colors, makes, and models. Over text, Benito informed me that there would be many other people joining us for the music video. The only other information he gave me was what to wear, which was comfy clothes, and not to wear any makeup because there would be a professional there to do mine. 

It was chilly in PR in November, so I wore sweatpants and a hoodie. I brought my Apple headphones over my ears as I walked into the studio. I knew this getting-ready process was going to take a while, so I brought my headphones as a musical distraction. Today I was feeling rap, so I turned on my mix as I entered the heated building, 

Signs in the building were showing me where to go, and I followed the one that read “Hair and Makeup.” As I entered, a few men and women were already getting their cosmetics done. 

“¿Cómo te llamas?” one of the cosmetic people asked me. I looked up at the thin, blonde man. He was holding a black ballpoint pen, scanning the check-in paper at the entrance.

“Oh, uh, mi nombre es Y/N,” he looked down at the paper for my name, and once he found it, his face lit up. 

“Y/N! The leading woman! Come in and take a seat; we’ve been waiting for you,” the man gestured to the open chair behind him. My face twisted in confusion as I sat in the chair. There had to have been a mistake. 

“Leading woman? Are you sure you have the right person?” I asked, removing my right headphone to make sure I was hearing them correctly.

“¡Sí! You’re the leading woman alongside Benito. How exciting!” An unidentified female cosmetologist came over to my chair, setting her plethora of makeup and hair products down on the vanity in front of me. My head went spinning. I thought Benito was just inviting me to be a background dancer who could correct his salsa steps along the way. I didn’t know I would also be starring in the music video!

The makeup artists and hairstylists began to work on me immediately. Their skilled hands turned my day 2 curls into coils of beauty and my bare face into an intricate work of art. I was stunned by their work, blinking an obnoxious number of times at myself in the mirror as I took it in.

“This is amazing, guys! You did a beautiful job,” I thanked the team profusely. 

“Oh, we’re not done,” the thin blonde man from the beginning, whose name I learned is Fransisco, walked towards the rack of clothes. He pulled out the prettiest dress I had ever seen. It was a golden brown that shimmered in the light. It was mid-calf length, with a high slit up the left leg’s side. 

“Now this beauty is your dress,” he said, moving his hand from the top to the bottom of the dress, presenting it to me. I was truly speechless by the gown in front of me. 

“Go put it on!” a tall, brunette hair stylist named Amelia ordered as she ushered me into the bathroom attached to the room. I rushed into the bathroom, stripping myself of my comfortable sweatsuit and slipping on the gorgeous dress.

“Guau,” I sighed as I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. Every part of the dress hugged my body almost perfectly. I began to wonder how much this dress had cost, but my thoughts were quickly interrupted by my new friends in the hair-and-makeup room.

“Come out! We wanna see!” a short, gray-haired woman, Martha, yelled. I emerged from the bathroom and gave the group a twirl.

“How does it look?” I ask the group, continuing to twirl in the almost-clad dress.

“Oh, mi,” an unexpected voice emerged from the crowd. It was not Francisco, Martha, or Amelia, but still a voice I knew. I stopped spinning, turning my body to face the voice. It was Benito.

“Es… muy hermoso,” the singer said, looking me up and down to take me all in. My cheeks turned red at the comment. 

“Gracias, Benito,” my reply was hushed and flustered. 

“Well, he’s all ready to go if you are,” Amelia told me, Benito’s eyes still locked on my figure.

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” I responded, subconsciously adjusting my dress. Benito held out his arm for me to latch on, and I accepted his invitation. We began making the quick walk to the set, which inevitably led to small talk between us. 

“Did you take my arm because you wanted to be a gentleman or because you could tell I needed some help walking in these heels?” I snickered. 

Benito smiled and replied, “Both.” He could make my heart flutter so easily. God, it was embarrassing. 

The set we arrived at was… not what I expected. It was an empty dance floor with two huge stage lights facing the center. Before I could ask any questions, however, the director was already explaining to Benito and me how the scene would play out. Basically, Benito would be in the center of the dance floor, and I would walk slowly towards him. Then, once we joined hands, we would begin the salsa we had been rehearsing for weeks. 

“The only catch is, you both will be doing this in as minimal light as possible! It will give it a more romantic vibe, you know?” the director informed us. I was very hesitant at the request, but the director insisted we’d be fine. I agreed, and the director gestured the two of us to our starting positions. 

As I begin to walk towards my starting point, Benito gently grabs my arm to whisper in my ear, “you’ll do amazing.” He ends his motivational phrase to me with a peck on my cheek. His 3 words made my body relax because they reminded me that he would be there through every step, turn, and spin of this process. 

Once we were in position, the director yelled “action,” which was the cue for all the overhead lights to turn off. I was in the darkness and could only see Benito in the middle of the stage lights. He looked beyond good in his light-blue suit and his beautiful curls done to absolute perfection. I was so lost in admiring Benito that I barely noticed the music had begun playing. I quickly snapped out of it and began to do what we had rehearsed. 

I walked towards Benito slowly, focusing only on him, not the cameras capturing our every movement. Then, he grabbed my hands, and we immediately flowed into the rhythmic dance we had rehearsed countless times in my studio. He mouthed the words to the song as we swung to the beat. As we danced, I forgot we were even filming the music video. I was so lost in our dance and him that I totally forgot about the two dozen people that were behind the scenes, watching us. 

We had to film the scene a few times to get it perfect. I didn’t mind, though. I could dance with Benito like that over and over again and truly never get sick of it. Sometimes, when his back was to the camera, he would faintly whisper something to me. He would call me pet names like “hermosa,” “impresionante,” and “pasmoso.” At one point, he called me “un angel,” which made me stumble, so we had to retake it. Whoops!

After we finally finished wrapping the scene, we went over to another part of the studio where a stage was already set up for us. A microphone and some band equipment were placed meticulously on the stage before our arrival. 

We got to have a break before the next scene to have lunch and take a breather. Benito and I grabbed the catered food provided, then sat in some open chairs to eat. I immediately dove into the turkey club because I was absolutely starving. 

“Hungry?” he asks, taking a bite out of his own sandwich. I looked at him through the side of my eyes, continuing to chew the huge bite I had taken out of the sandwich.

“Obviously,” I reply, my response coming out mumbled due to my mouth being full of turkey, cheese, lettuce, and bread. 

Our break was full of chatter and laughs, which was true of every conversation with Benito. His energy was beaming and always brought me out of any funk I was in. That was something I admired so deeply about Benito. 

In the second and final scene we filmed, Benito was on stage singing into the microphone as the band played behind him. I danced around him on the stage as he sang, kind of doing my own thing. The director told me I had free rein to do whatever I wanted on stage, since the camera would mainly be focused on Benito. 

Once the director gave me my cue, I began to sway around the stage. Benito sang as I did so, stealing knowing glances my way during the performance. Again, after a few takes (thankfully, fewer this time), we wrapped up shooting. The second the director yelled “cut,” I let out an exaggerated sigh. I immediately headed towards my water bottle and took a huge swig. There was little left in mine, though, so my huge swig left the bottle empty. I spotted Benito’s next to mine, so I immediately took the clear bottle and chugged a good bit of it.

“Ay!” I heard Benito yell in my direction. I take one final sip and put down the water bottle, my lipstick staining the opening. 

“I was thirsty, and mine’s empty!” I defended myself, sticking out a half-drank bottle at the man. He wiped off the lipstick stain with the back of his hand, then took his own sip of it. 

“It’s fine,” he takes a big gulp of the drink, “you did amazing today, so I guess you can have some of my water.” He leans over and pecks my cheek, making my face heat up.

“Says you. You did fantastic. I mean, your dancing skills have excelled. The salsa teacher in me thrilled,” I reply. 

“And what does the girlfriend in you say?” he retorts. I almost respond, then immediately stop before I can utter a word. Did I hear him right? Did he just call me his girlfriend?

“Did you just call me your girlfriend?” I ask as anxiety crept into my chest as I questioned the musician. 

“Oh shit. Sorry, I’m kinda bad with this stuff. I’ve been planning to ask you today ever since our fourth date, but I was supposed to ask, not say that! ¡Mierda! Soy un idiota,” Benito rambled. He rubbed his index finger and thumb at the bridge of his nose. His plan was ruined, and I could tell he was scared he was going to lose me because of his fuck up. 

“Benito,” I placed my hand on his relaxed wrist, “nothing between us has ever been normal. We met because I was your salsa teacher. Of course, the way you ask me to be your girlfriend would be far from normal.” The two of us laugh in unison.

“You’re so right. But,” he straightens himself from his slightly slouched position, “let me ask you normally.” He grabs both my hands in his, lifting his signature sunglasses from his eyes to sit on his head. He gazed deep into my eyes once he did so. 

“Y/N, this time with you has been some of the best of my life. Meeting you at your old person salsa studio was a blessing in disguise because it brought me to you. Your energy is something I crave to be around all the time, and I love it. So, Y/N, can I have the incredible honor to call you my girlfriend?” Benito’s speech was beyond thoughtful, and I couldn’t believe he said all of that about me. If I were in a dream right now, please never let me wake up. 

“Oh my God, Benito. That was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. And of course I’ll be your girlfriend. I’d be stupid if I said otherwise.” Benito’s face lit up at my words. He let go of my hands and moved them to my cheeks. He pulled me in for a sweet kiss as my hands found their home at the base of his neck. This kiss was full of true love and passion for each other. I had never felt so loved in my life. Being with Benito made me feel that love every second I was with him.

“Ok,” he pulled away from the embrace, “where should we go to celebrate? Hmm? Maybe your favorite taco spot?” My face lit up in excitement.

“¡Sí! ¡Sí! My mouth’s already watering for their birria!” I slightly salivate as I speak. Benito smiles, putting his arm around my shoulder, leading me towards the exit. 

“Perfect. Anything for you, mi amor,” he comments, leaning to his left to place a loving kiss on my head. I respond by snuggling deeper into his embrace, continuing to walk towards the exit of the studio. 

my masterlist!

[bestiemads]

yay yay yay! now we're onto group b! to recap this is my list of the hottest players on each world cup team by group.

group b consists of canada, switzerland, bosnia and herzegovina, and qatar!

CANADA:

Owen Goodman, goalkeeper, #18

this was a very hard decision between him and nathan saliba (nathan's my honorable mention btw)

SWITZERLAND:

Aurele Amenda, defender, #24

Bosnia and Herzegovina:

Esmir Bajraktarevic, forward, #20

Qatar:

Pedro Miguel, defender, #2

[bestiemads]

school trip romance- lamine yamal

summary: you go on a school trip to explore the vast beauty of barcelona, spain. what you don’t expect, however, is falling for lamine yamal in a series of secret hang outs over the course of your trip.

warnings: fluff

pairing: lamine yamal x reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 7.6k

this was also cross-posted on my ao3! @bestiemads

a/n: i wanted to make this because i obviously love lamine but also i wanted to highlight that he is still pretty young! lamine is only 18 but he’s been in the public eye since he was about 15. so i wanted this story to highlight the deep emotions of being young and in love but also touch on being in the spotlight so young. i hope i achieved that with this! (originally posted on 7-4. updated on 7-19.)

⚽️⚽️⚽️

A school trip was always fun. A school trip to Barcelona, Spain: beyond that.

On a dewy April morning of my junior year, two brunette girls in the grade below me aired on the school announcements. Their tired expressions turned joyous when their announcement for our high school’s annual international trip was their next talking point. 

“Now, the news you’ve all been waiting for. Our school’s international trip location next year is… Barcelona, Spain! Applications open up tomorrow at 8 AM, and more details will be in an email sent later tonight. Have a good rest of your Tuesday!”

Upon hearing the news, my friends and I couldn’t contain our excitement. We looked around at one another in our first period, squealing and shrieking towards each other. All of us had promised we’d apply for whatever trip the school chose for our senior year. Now that we knew it would be in Spain, we were ecstatic.

I filled out the application by the end of the week, but the only remaining obstacle was my parents. They were hesitant about the projected price, but I assured them I would work my ass off to pay for the trip myself. After some deliberation between my mom and dad, they agreed to let me go on the trip. Their signatures on the form almost secured my spot on the trip: now I had to wait to see if I was one of the chosen ones. 

About a month later, the email confirming whether we had gotten into the trip dropped during my pre-calculus class. Amidst my teacher's boring lesson about the domain and range, I hesitantly opened the email. I was instantly elated, however, when the word “Congrats!” was the first word I read on my screen.

“I got in!” I exclaimed quietly to my friend on my right. She joined in the joyous celebrations because she, too, had gotten in. Life couldn’t get any better than this.

—————

“We are currently descending upon our destination of Barcelona, Spain. Please fasten your seatbelts as we do so. Thank you,” the pilot announced over the intercom. I followed the pilot’s instructions and clicked my seatbelt into place. As I did so, I looked out my window and was greeted with the view of the vast expanse of Barcelona, Spain.

“Wow, it’s so beautiful,” I commented to my friend, who sat in the aisle seat adjacent to my window one. She peered over my shoulder, also gawking at the beautiful foreign city below us.

After a smooth descent, we finally landed in Josep Tarradellas Barcelona-El Prat Airport on the outskirts of Barcelona. We wheeled our luggage through the massive building, trying to decipher signs that read in their native language. When we finally made it to the exit of the airport, our tour guide’s bus was waiting at the terminal for our arrival. They were taking us straight to the hotel, since we reached them at 6 PM. 

Once we arrived at our hotel, my teacher stopped the group of 20 of us before we could exit the vehicle. He informed us we had the freedom to go anywhere for dinner that night and explore a bit, but we had to be back by 10:00 PM. Their explanation was wrapped up by handing us 20 Euros each for our dinner expenses that night. If we went over, we had to use our own funds. 

My friends and I quickly put our bags in our rooms after they dismissed us from the bus so we could head out in the unfamiliar town. We decided to eat at this restaurant/bar combination that had high Google ratings, but was additionally only a few minutes' walk from the hotel.

The other and biggest reason my friends and I chose this spot is that on this trip, we had vowed to each other to have the best time. This included having a good time at the bars at night. I mean, in the grand scheme of things, our plan wasn’t illegal. The legal drinking age in Spain is 18, which the 6 of us are. Drinking on the trip, however, is strictly against school policy. So, all we had to do was just be secretive about our night outs. That’s all. 

The bar was pretty separate from the restaurant, so our dinner wasn’t mingling with the bar-goers. After our delicious Spanish dinners in the restaurant portion, we headed to the other half of the establishment, the bar.

The bar was full of chatter, Spanish music, and many people our age. It seemed to be a popular bar in the area for people our age, which we were pleasantly surprised about. We scanned the drink menu and decided to get some fizzy, fruity drinks that were also common finds in the US: a nice way to ease into the new country. 

“Guys,” I addressed the group of my closest friends, “I can order for the 6 of us at the bar. We can just split the bill at the end of the night to keep it nice and easy.” My offer was one that my friends happily agreed to. I approached the bartender and ordered 3 raspberry White Claws, 2 blackberry ones, and one strawberry one. The bartender agreed to my order and then disappeared into the back bar to retrieve the drinks. I began to scan the drink selection above the bar to plan my next drink, but someone interrupted my thoughts before I could even start. 

“Pretty creative drink selection,” a man commented on my right. He had also just finished ordering from the bartender and was now awaiting his drinks.

“What’s wrong with a couple of White Claws?” I sarcastically replied. The man chuckled, a toothy grin accompanying the laugh.

“I mean, there are so many good mixed drinks they make here. But, since you’re a tourist, you’re too intimidated to try them. Am I right?” he smugly inquires, obviously knowing the answer.

“Ok, well, you’re right about the tourist thing. But you’re wrong about the intimidation part. It’s only night 1 of our school trip. We need to ease our way into the local favorites,” I reply with equal smugness in my voice as his eyes widen.

“Your school’s letting you drink on a school trip? You must be in uni or something,” he asks, bewildered. 

“No to both, actually. We’re doing the number 1 thing our high school told us not to do. But as long as these drinks and talk of them don’t leave these walls, we’re good,” I reply, motioning to the bar around us. I looked over at the stranger, an amused smile etching his face.

“I like you. If I were in your shoes, I’d never have the balls to do that. Plus, my school is super strict too. They’d have access to every security camera in the city to track us down,” he replies, breathily laughing at his own dramatic, but not far off, phrasing. I look at him, confusion stretching across my face.

“Wait, you’re in high school, too?” I turn my body to fully face the man, questioning if he was the same age as me. 

“Here in Spain, we call it bachillerato, but yes, I am,” he also turns his body to completely face mine as he responds. I raise my eyebrows in shock at the new information. Before I can say anything else in reply, he sticks out his hand towards my torso and cuts off my reply.

“Lamine,” he introduces himself, slightly shaking his hand to signal he was expecting a handshake. I gladly accept, linking our hands together and telling him my own name. As we do so, our respective bartenders hand us our drinks. He only had one mixed drink, showing he was here by himself. He offered to help me bring my drinks over to my group of 5 friends at a table in the corner. They absentmindedly thank me, not even noticing Lamine helping me with the drinks. After dropping off all 5 White Claws, Lamine and I spot an open two-top and decide to take a seat there. 

The rest of the night, I talk to my new friend, Lamine. He tells me all about bachillerato, and I tell him all about high school. The summary of his many inquiries were if American high school was just like the movies portrayed it, yellow school bus and all. He explained to me how he played soccer- or as he called it, fútbol. He went into immense detail to me about how it was his one true passion and how he’d been kicking that ball around since he could walk. 

“The last time I played soccer competitively was when I was like 8. I only played ‘cause my league gave out donuts afterwards,” I confess, which erupts Lamine into fits of laughter. 

“I’m assuming ones with sprinkles, right?” he questions further.

“Oh, you know it. Once they ran out of sprinkles, and I was so mad I made my parents get me Dunkin on the way home,” I recall, which makes him erupt in laughter again, and I join him. Our conversations had flown exceptionally well throughout the night, as if we had known each other before tonight’s meeting. 

Then, amidst another one of our conversations, my friend tapped my shoulder. I turned away from Lamine to face her, and she informed me that we needed to leave so we could make it back to the hotel on time. I turned back to face Lamine, a sad expression making its way to my face. 

“Sorry, Lamine, I gotta go. It was amazing getting to know you, though,” I said, slowly but surely rising from my seat at our two-seater table.

“Me too! Before you go, though, let me give you my Snapchat so we can keep in touch. Maybe we could meet up another time while you’re still in town?” he suggests. I nod in agreement, handing him my phone so he can input his information. After quickly typing in his username and adding it, he hands my phone back to me. He pulls out his phone and immediately accepts the friend request he sent in. 

“Well, I hope to see you soon, Lamine!” I waved to the man as I left the table and exited the bar with my friends. He waved back, an adorable smile sweeping across his face. A similar one etched across mine, as well.

————

“So, who was that cutie you were chatting with at the bar?” My friend, who’s also my roommate, asked once we had gotten settled for the night in our room. Her question was anticipated, but it still made me blush due to the memories that flooded my head at his mention.

“Oh, that’s Lamine. We met at the bar when I was getting our first round of drinks. He’s the same age as us and from Barcelona, too. He’s so funny and incredibly sweet; he even gave me his Snapchat so we could keep in touch. He actually texted me like 5 minutes ago and said he wanted to see me again this week,” I relayed the 1-minute night recap to my friend. 

“Aww, that’s so cute! But the real question is, did you stalk him on socials yet? You know to make sure he isn’t a creep or anything?” she asked. I quirked my eyebrow in thought. That idea wasn’t the first thing I thought of doing when I met Lamine, which is quite unusual for me.

“To be completely honest, I didn’t even think of doing that,” I replied, opening Snapchat to stare at his bitmoji and profile. It was a normal Snapchat for all accounts. His snap score, however, was a bit high, but I didn’t dwell on that too much. 

“Why not try? Better to be safe than sorry,” she said, absentmindedly scrolling through her photos app as she sorted through her photos from tonight.

“You know what, I agree. I’m gonna do it now,” I replied, swiping out of Snapchat and opening my Instagram. I typed his name into the search bar, not expecting to find anything. What came up, however, was the last thing I was expecting.

My mouth hung agape as I scrolled through his Instagram. I assumed it would take me a while to find his account, but it instead took me mere seconds. We also had mutual followers, like a lot of them.

“Oh. My. God,” were the only three words I could formulate.

“What? Is it bad?” my friend asked, placing her phone down and looking over at my phone screen from her bed.

“I mean, no, I don’t think so. He just has like 40 million followers because he’s a famous soccer player for Spain’s World Cup team and FC Barcelona,” I frantically explain.

“You’re fucking kidding.” She got out of bed to take a closer look at my phone screen. My brain couldn’t wrap around the fact that the man I had been so easily talking to all night was a professional soccer player. And a really good one for that matter. 

Almost on cue, Lamine texts me on Snapchat, asking me what my schedule is so we can plan our next hangout. 

“This is actually out of a fucking movie. Holy shit. You were flirting with a World Cup soccer player all night! Happy first day of the trip to you!” my roommate squealed, flopping herself back onto her bed.

“Yeah,” I sat there in complete shock. This amazingly kind stranger I hit it off with at the bar was a soccer superstar. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact. 

The rest of the night, I stalked him on every social media platform I could find: bad idea. He had been in public relationships with a some stunning women in the past. He didn’t have the photos with them on his Instagram anymore, but TikToks about his relationship timelines still had all the evidence. All I did was sit and overthink our night together. 

Was he just being friendly? Did I misread his signs as flirtatious? Wait, I shouldn’t be thinking like this at all. I mean, for God’s sake, I had only spoken to this man for a few hours at a bar! I barely even know him!

In between my stalking, I was texting Lamine on Snapchat. Pretty creepy, I know. We genuinely talked for so long, and each flirty text he sent made my heart flutter. 

This was gonna be a long week.

————

Lamine and I decided to meet up the next evening. We had free time before we had to meet up for nightly check-ins, so he took me to a park he recommended. We got some fun smoothies at a place he liked, and walked around the park with those drinks. 

“This place is beautiful,” I said, looking around the park.

“It’s my favorite place mi madre used to take me to when I was a kid,” he said, taking a sip of his perfectly concocted drink. 

“That drink you ordered sounds so good. I mean, I would’ve never thought to combine guava juice with strawberry puree, but it sounds incredible,” I note, looking at his pink and orange-colored drink. 

“You wanna sip?” he asks, tilting his cup towards me.

“Oh, sure,” I reply, surprised. I wasn’t expecting him to offer me a sip, but I gladly accepted. The drink tasted just as good as I imagined. 

“Holy shit, Lamine. That’s good,” I say after I swallow the liquid. I felt his lingering stare on me after I drank the smoothie, which made my face heat up. 

“Is there something on my face?” I ask, wiping around my face to feel if anything was truly on my face.

“No, you just look beautiful,” he commented. If my face wasn’t already red, it definitely was now.

“Lamine, stop it,” I said, hitting his shoulder playfully. He gasped like my hit actually hurt him. 

The next day, we went to brunch at a local spot. The day after, we went night swimming in the Gulf of Valencia. Were we supposed to be swimming? No. Did we get caught? Also no. So, no harm, no foul! 

The day after our night swim, Lamine told me he could only hang out in the early afternoon due to practice in the morning and a cousin’s birthday party in the afternoon. I, however, was busy during the early afternoon due to my school’s pre-planned excursion to Mercat de la Boqueria. The Mercat was an infamous market in Barcelona, so we were going there to learn about the place and its history.

When we entered the expanse spance, I was taken aback by its pure being. The market was gorgeous. All the food smelled delicious. The jewelry and knick-knacks they sold were stunning. I was beyond ecstatic to explore the space and what it had to offer. 

My friends and I were walking through the market with our tour guide as he explained the extensive history of the establishment. We gawked at basically everything we saw as the guide explained whatever it was to us. 

As I examined one of the Medetarrian stands from afar, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see which one of my friends it was, but I was instead met with the beaming face of Lamine. 

“Fancy seeing you, here,” Lamine continued to beam, a sly tone present in his voice. My eyes widened in shock, since he was truly the last person I was expecting to see when I turned around. I immediately grabbed his bicep and pulled him to the back of my group before I responded, making sure he was generally out of my teachers’ line of sight. 

“Lamine! What are you doing here?” I whisper-yelled at the man.

“I’m just here to shop!” he lied straight through his teeth, the smug smile continuing to tug at the corners of his mouth.

“For what?” I interrogated, becoming more playful now since I knew no teachers saw him when he arrived. 

“Hmm, let's see… some bread, carrots, and… bananas?” He began to list random foods off the top of his head to continue his obvious lie. We both giggled at the stupidity.

“You never told me you were gonna meet me here! If my school finds out you’re here to see me, they’ll be pissed,” I reply.

“Wow, what makes you think I’m here to see you? I just told you I was here to buy bread, cheese, and bananas, and I just happened to run into you, beautiful.” He grazed over the affectionate word as if it were the most natural thing in the world, even as my stomach erupted in butterflies.

“Umm, you actually said carrots, not cheese,” I teased as he rolled his eyes. 

“They both start with ‘c,’ they’re basically the same thing,” he replied as I playfully slapped his shoulder. 

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Lamine continued through the market with me. He never left my side, even when my friends gave me knowing, smug glances or when strangers recognized him as we passed by. He listened to our tour guide speak about the market's historical significance with such focus that you would think he was my peer. When we could explore on our own, he stayed attached to my hip through every market we went to. I mean, he didn’t even leave my side when I stopped at a fish market where they skinned fish directly in front of you. 

“This is fucking nasty,” he commented as the butcher took his knife and skinned the fish with experienced precision. He got very close to me, wrapping his arm around my waist so he could get his side as close to mine as possible. When the butcher eventually decapitated the fish, Lamine buried his face into the crook of my neck, gagging as he did so. 

“If you throw up on me, I’ll genuinely sign you up to butcher fish. And I’m not even kidding,” I jokingly reply, bringing up my hand to rub the back of his neck in comfort. 

After a few hours in the market, our teachers informed us that we had to depart. Once I heard this, I pulled Lamine to a corner of the market where there were very few people. He stood right in front of me, taking both of my hands in his own as I explained to him the news. The stance we found ourselves fell into place so naturally, one that we didn’t even notice we were in until after the moment passed by. 

“It’s alright. I’ll text you tomorrow to see how we can coordinate to see each other again,” he said, rubbing his thumbs along my knuckles absentmindedly. We were looking deep into each other’s eyes as both of our hands were grasped in the other’s. The look in his eyes told me he wanted to kiss me, and I wanted to, too. We both, however, didn’t know how to say it. So, I mustered up the courage and did it myself.

“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I said with a sweet smile. Immediately after I replied to his statement, I leaned up into him and placed a kiss on his lips. He wasn’t fully expecting the kiss, so he didn’t immediately kiss me back. I thought I had misread the signs he had given me, so I began to pull away. As I began to do so, he immediately placed his hand on the back of my head, pulling me back in. His gesture showed me I had definitely not misread the signs. Thank God. We became lost in the newfound kiss, smiling and laughing in the moment, too. 

Once we pulled away, he pulled me into a hug. He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do this since we met at the bar.” I couldn’t help but giggle at his confession as my face grew pink. 

“Me too, Lamine. Me too. But, I gotta go now,” I say as I begin to walk away from the soccer player’s embrace. Before I can get even 2 steps away from him, he grabs me and pulls me into another kiss, which I don’t hesitate to accept. When we pull away, he continues to attack my lips with a lot of repetitive little pecks. I can’t help but smile at his antics.

“Lamine! I’ve got to go! Stop it!” I exclaim, pathetically trying to push the man off of me, as I continue to erupt in fits of giggles.

“Fine,” he dramatically sighs as he places a final, longer kiss on my lips. 

“I’ll text you when I get back to the hotel, okay?” I inform him, and he nods in response. I finally leave his embrace, waving bye to the man as we head our separate ways.

Once I made it back to the group, my teacher was already giving me a knowing look. I was a few minutes late to the group, which held everyone else up from leaving. 

“Sorry, I got… lost in the crowd,” I lied. The teacher nodded passive-aggressively in my direction, then turned around to lead us out of the market. 

“Lost in the crowd? More like lost in Lamine's mouth!” my friend whisper-exclaimed into my ear. I gasped at her comment and hit her arm. She grabbed it in mocking pain, a faint “ow” escaping her lips. 

“Shut up!” I yelled at her in anger, even as a small smile etched across my lips. 

————

Each time Lamine and I hung out after that day, it was like I was living out a dream. Even if our hangouts lasted 3 hours or only 1 hour, we made the most of each one. I think I experienced more of Spain’s authentic culture through Lamine than what my school showed me. Through these hangouts, he eventually opened up to me about fútbol and his fame that came along with it. I just listened to him, allowing him to tell me everything- the good and the bad. He told me countless times how he liked how I just listened, and didn’t give my opinion on every part of his public career. I was just glad he trusted me enough to open up like that. 

On the last day, Lamine and I had very conflicting schedules that didn’t allow us to hang out until the evening. We were sad we only had a little time to hang out, but it's what we had to work with. 

Little did Lamine know, however, that we would see each other before that evening. 

See, a part of the trip’s itinerary was to take us to a fútbol game because the sport was such an important part of the country’s culture. This game was Deportivo Alavés versus FC Barcelona, aka Lamine’s team. I decided not to tell him and make my appearance a surprise. 

For the afternoon match, I decided to wear a shirt Lamine had given me. It was an FC Barcelona t-shirt that resembled a jersey, with his name and number on the backside. 

I came out of the bathroom after I had finished getting ready, and my roommate squealed once she saw my top. 

“Oh. My. God! Does he know we’re coming?” she asks, touching up her eye makeup.

“He has no clue,” I smugly reply, texting Lamine, “good luck,” as I tell her. 

“Girl, this is the hottest thing you’ve ever done. Showing up to his game unannounced in his jersey? Fuck, if I were him, I’d faint on the field,” she said, putting his makeup away into her bag since she was finished with it.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were in love with me,” I heartily laughed in reply, and she joined in as well. Conversations like this weren’t unusual in our friendship dynamic, making it just that much more hilarious. 

We arrived at the stadium early, so our tour guide could give us a tour. During the tour, he explained the history and significance of fútbol concerning Spanish culture. Every detail was fascinating, but my mind was focused on one particular person the whole time. I mean, it was hard not to think about him when his face was plastered all over the walls of the arena. 

After our brief history lesson, our tour guide brought us to the field for warmups. We approached the barricade so we had the opportunity to watch the players on both sides warm up. I immediately spot Lamine’s curly hair in the crowd of players, juggling the ball with practiced ease. We weren’t the only fans watching the players warm up, however. Many other fans surrounded us on the barricade, screaming his name and his teammates’, trying to garner their attention. 

“Come on! You gotta yell for him to see you!” my friend nudges my shoulder, fixing her vision toward Lamine.

“I don’t want to; it just feels rude. Plus, he won’t hear me over all these other fans,” I reply, my eyes still fixated on number 10 on the pitch. My friend nods in understanding as she relays her focus back to a guy on Deportivo Alavés who she thought was cute. 

The hope that Lamine would see me before the game began to dwindle as the warm-up continued. I mean, it was partially my fault because I made no effort to make my presence known. But that just felt rude to me. So, I resorted to waving profusely every time he turned towards my direction. Could that be seen as even more obnoxious? To some, maybe, but I’d rather be waving than yelling. 

Towards the end of warmups, he got closer to the stands to do some sideline drills. Now, people were furiously yelling at him and his teammates, since their proximity was much closer now. 

When Lamine completed his pass in the sideline drill, he got to the back of the line. When he did so, he turned his focus to face the crowd of fans. He smiled at the group and waved back at everyone. I continued to wave too- a bit embarrassingly desperate, I might add- to get his attention. His eyes scanned from left to right as he waved at the crowd. His sight landed on me, and I waved ferociously to make sure I stood out. Lamine originally whisked his sight right over me, but almost immediately averted his gaze back to my frame after he did so. 

When he placed his focus on me, he squinted his eyes to see better. Once he realized it was me, his expression glowed bright in joy. My face mirrored his as I continued to wave at him from the stands. I even mouthed a silent “hi,” which he repeated back to me.

Then, in an instant, he came up to the edge of the stands to stand directly in front of me. The fans around me went crazy, my friends laughed knowingly, and everyone else in my school’s group stood dumbfounded at the sight unfolding in front of them. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” he exclaimed, craning his neck up to speak to me above the barricade’s bar.

“I’m just here to watch a fútbol game. What makes you think I’m here to see you?” I mocked the reply he gave me days prior at the market. He smiled, immediately catching the callback. 

“You don’t understand how happy I am that you’re here,” he replied, pink dusting my cheeks as he spoke. 

“Wait,” he abruptly said before I could reply, “you guys should come on the pitch. Like, you and your whole group. You know, so you guys get the full experience and whatever.” Lamine winked towards me as he went over to the security guard and told him something I couldn’t make out. His words, however, prompted the security guard to open the gate to let us onto the pitch. Everyone in my group was both shocked and extremely excited by our new view of the warm-up. I was as well, but also even more excited to see Lamine again with no metal between us. 

I was one of the last people to make it onto the field from the bleachers. I followed the crowd that stood behind a rope separating them from the main pitch and the sideline. Once I made it to the thick twine, Lamine wasted no time and embraced me in a hug. I could tell he resisted the urge to attack the top of my head in kisses during the hug, but he knew many cameras were pointing at us.

“This is the best surprise ever! I’m gonna have to play extra good now that you’re here,” he whispered into the hug.

“Yeah, you better. I can’t have you embarrassing me in front of my friends,” I teased, poking his shoulder. All Lamine could do was laugh. 

“I mean, how could I not play well and embarrass you when you look that good in my jersey?” he smugly breathes into my ear; my face was beet red now. When we pulled away from the hug, his hand lingered on my arm longer than normal. Something most people wouldn’t catch, but I did. 

“I wish you had told me earlier. I would’ve gotten you guys upgraded seats. Well, I at least would’ve tried to,” he informed me. 

“Lamine, that would’ve been incredibly kind of you, but we’re a-okay where we’re at now,” I rub his arm in reassurance.

“Ok. Ok. Well, I gotta go before coach kills me. See ya! I’ll text you after the game,” he says as he runs off towards his teammates. I nod in response as his eyes continue to linger on me as long as possible. The second he’s back on the pitch with his teammates, my teacher taps me on the shoulder, a bewildered look etched across her face. 

“I have no idea how you know him, but please extend him our heartfelt gratitude for giving us this opportunity,” she told me.

“I will, don’t worry,” I reply, giggling. 

————

After the game, I got a text from Lamine. He told me that if I was free, which he knew I was, to meet him at this outdoor bar that wasn’t too far from my hotel. I agreed and immediately made my way towards the establishment. 

Once I got there, I saw Lamine leaning against a fence, fully engrossed in whatever he was watching on his phone. 

“There’s my winner! Scoring two goals is so incredible! I’m so proud of you,” I say, raising my arms in the air. My comment catches his attention, as he raises his gaze away from his phone to me. 

“Ahh, stop it,” he brushes off the compliment, walking towards my open arms to envelop me in a hug. After a few seconds, we pull our heads out of the hug so we can embrace in a kiss. The kiss was joyous, passionate, and full of smiles. 

“I’ve been yearning to do that since I saw you in the stands in my jersey. It was the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen,” he says after we briefly break apart, lips only mere inches from each other. 

“You’re so cheesy,” was the only reply I could muster up, as my pink face leaned in for another quick kiss. We eventually begrudgingly tore away from one another, so he could lead me towards the entrance of the bar. We sat at an open two-top in the corner, where we could have as much seclusion and privacy as possible. We both ordered the same drink: one of Lamine’s favorites that he put me onto. 

Our conversation flowed as smoothly as it usually did. The conversation, however, was avoiding the largest elephant in the room: my last day in Spain was today. As the evening drew on, I knew I had to be the one to rip the band-aid off about the forbidden topic.

“I can’t believe it's my last night here,” I comment after a beat of silence. We had just finished talking about the market surprise again, the happy memory making us both crack up. 

“Yeah, I try not to think about that,” he says, a hint of sadness lacing itself in his words. I reach my hand across the table to take his hand in mine. He absentmindedly begins to rub my knuckles with the pad of his thumb, more in comfort for himself than for me. 

“I know, ‘cause I try not to, too. But, it's ok! We can still call, text, and literally everything we do now when we’re not together in person. It will be harder, definitely, but we can do it,” I tried hard to reassure Lamine- and myself in the process- but we both knew it would be very hard to keep in touch when he was always six hours ahead of me. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll also send you my FC Barcelona channel login info so you can watch my games from home. It’ll give me motivation to score at least two goals each game when I know you’re watching across the ocean,” he jokes, which elicits a laugh from me even in this sad moment. 

“I’ll do anything that’ll help you score ‘cause it makes you happy. Seeing you happy, even if it’ll be through the screen, will make me happy,” I reply, a heartbroken smile stretching across my face. A breathy sigh escapes his lips, and I know he’s about to tell me something heartaching. 

“If I’m being completely honest with you right now, these past 10 days with you have been beyond amazing. I can hardly put into words how fantastic they have been. Being with you brings out a side of me I rarely see in myself anymore. Ever since I started playing fútbol professionally, I have had little time to find simple joy in my everyday life. Your presence alone has brought that spark back. I know this sounds dramatic, but being without you every day is gonna be really hard for me. Your mere being brought that joy out of me, and I don’t know if I’ll find it again when you leave,” Lamine spills his soul out to me, the heartbreak being present in every sentence he articulated. I was taken aback by how much of an impact I had on him in just these past 10 days. I couldn’t believe I had that effect on someone at all, let alone someone I considered a stranger a little over a week ago.

A tear came down Lamine’s cheek after his confession. He tried to cover it by ducking his head away from me, but I caught it before he could turn away.

“Oh, Lamine,” I reach up my hand to his tear-stained cheek, using my hand to wipe away his tears as well as to turn his head towards my own, “you are such an amazing person, both inside and out. I’m truly moved by everything you said about me, truly. But… I think you can find that part of yourself all the time, even when I’m not here. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met, and if there’s anyone who can find joy within themselves, it’s you.” Lamine physically relaxed at my words: his shoulders fell, and he released a deep breath he’d been holding in. 

“Hearing that from you makes me feel better. Muchas gracias,” he sighs in complete relief. Once he’s settled, he grabs the wrist of the hand still lingering on his cheek. He brings the knuckles of that hand up to his lips, placing delicate kisses along each one of my knuckles. Even in tender moments like this, he always finds a way for my stomach to erupt in butterflies. 

A little while later, we left the bar and stopped at a vendor on the street for some ice cream. We took our time roaming around the streets, eating our ice cream, not wanting the night to end. 

“You know, I forgot to tell you about this,” Lamine broke the comfortable silence as we walked through the streets of Barcelona. His arm, free from ice cream, was draped over my shoulder as I leaned into his touch. 

“There’s this internship through Spain’s National Men’s Soccer team that is taking place during the World Cup. It’s basically a communications intern where they co-run the social media team with the current social media manager. I heard about it at bachillerato, and it sounds like something up your alley. Plus, I’ll be on that team for the World Cup, so I can put in a very good word for you,” Lamine told me this information so casually, as if this wasn’t my dream job- or well, in this case, internship. 

“Lamine! Oh my God! Are you kidding? That sounds like a dream!” I exclaimed so dramatically that I almost dropped my ice cream. 

“I can get the link to the application and send it to you. I think they would really like you, too, especially since you speak English and live in the US. Not having to book you an international round-trip flight and knowing the host country inside and out would be ideal for them,” Lamine told me. Without warning, I wrapped my arms around his midsection in gratitude and utter joy. He was initially shocked by the sudden change in contact, but then leaned into the embrace. I leaned up and began attacking his face with kisses.

“I didn’t know you would be so excited about this,” Lamine managed to get out in between my pecks. 

“Are you kidding? I would get to see you for almost 2 straight months and work for a World Cup team. You should be shocked I’m not more excited,” I say, ecstatically. Lamine just replied with a toothy smile. 

Eventually, Lamine and I made it to the front of my hotel. This is where we had to depart for an unforeseen amount of time. He reached out and grabbed both my hands, looking longingly into my eyes. 

“I guess we have to say goodbye now,” he says, swaying back and forth on his heels in anxious anticipation. 

“I guess so,” I reply. We sit in silence for a moment before he leans down to engulf me in a kiss. This one was different from all the ones we shared before; this one was reverent, like he was memorizing me and my lips. 

“Te amo,” he whispers, our lips inches from each other. The two words were barely audible, but I still managed to hear them. I was bewildered and almost taken aback by those two words. 

“I’m sorry, I know it's so early, and we’re not anything official. But if this is the last time I see you for a long time, I don’t want to regret that I didn’t say it now,” he confesses as his forehead rests against my own. My heart swells at the admission.

“Yo también te amo,” I reply, recapturing his lips in another kiss. The words weren’t a binding phrase or a classic case of love-bombing, but more of an expression of deep gratitude for the impact we had on each other’s lives in the past few days. 

Once we pulled away, we said our final goodbyes as I walked into my hotel. I sighed as tears brimmed in my eyes. The thought of tonight being the last time I saw Lamine ever in person tugged at my brain. I didn’t want it to be, but it was a very real possibility. 

I eventually snuck my way back into my room and got into bed. My roommate was knocked out, not even turning when I walked into the room. I got a text on WhatsApp from Lamine, which was the link to the internship application. I couldn’t contain my smile at the unserious texts we sent back and forth following the link he sent. After a few threads of messages, I set my phone down and went to sleep. 

The next morning and flight home was a blur. All I could think about was Lamine and the memories we made during the trip. During the 9-hour flight, I had time to complete the application for the internship. After I submitted it, I texted Lamine to tell him. He was so happy and said he was going to put in “as many good words as possible” for me. After a while, I was so exhausted that I passed out in my crammed seat. The next thing I remember is my friend shaking me awake, telling me were about to land back at home. 

————

In the last week of April, during my lunch break, I got an email from the Spanish internship I applied for. I was sitting at the table with my friends as we all talked, ate, and studied for our upcoming classes. I clicked on the email, thinking it would be another update about how my application was still “being looked at” and how I would get an answer “in the next couple of business days.” This email, though, was not one of those. 

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. I got it! I got the internship!” I freaked out, reading the email which informed me I had, in fact, gotten the spot as the social media co-intern for Spain’s World Cup soccer team. 

My friends also began to freak out for me, congratulating me and celebrating alongside me. 

“You need to tell Lamine,” my one friend, who was sitting to my left, told me after the initial uproar wore down. 

“Oh my God, you’re so right,” I replied, immediately pulling out my phone and opening up his contact on WhatsApp so I could video-call him. It was about 6:30 AM there, but I knew he was up since he had lifting at 7. 

He answered almost immediately, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. He was sitting at his kitchen table, eating his breakfast and sipping on a protein shake. 

“Seems like your good words worked!” I exclaimed, turning my screen around to show him the email displayed on my computer. It took him a minute to read and process what I was saying, but once he did, he was beyond ecstatic.

“No fucking way!” he exclaimed, getting up out of his chair as he began to run around his dining room in celebration. I laughed so hard as he quietly cheered since Keyne and his mom were still sleeping above him. 

“I think you’re way more excited than I am,” I told him once he sat back down in his dining room chair. 

“We get to see each other in a month from now! I’m elated,” he said, the smile on his face never faltering.

“Me too, Lamine. This is about to be the best summer ever! Maybe you can even convince your mom to stay in the US after the World Cup so we can hang out even more,” I proposed. 

“Maybe, but all that matters now is that I get to be with your beautiful face in a month,” Lamine said, and my face became a familiar shade of pink. A chorus of “awws” was heard from my friends, and my face grew even hotter.  

“Ok, Lamine, I’ll let you go now so you can lift. Te amo,” I said, blowing him a kiss.

“Te amo,” he replied, blowing a kiss right back at me. 

my masterlist!

[bestiemads]

in honor of the world cup, i have the urge to conduct an experiment and conclude who the hottest players are on each team. this is a stupid idea i came up with so if any of my takes are hot, please don't come for me!!

starting off with group a! this group consists of mexico, south korea, czechia, and south africa.

MEXICO:

Raul Jimenez, striker, #9

some very honorable mentions though, are obed vargas, guillermo ochoa back in his prime, and honestly the majority of the team

SOUTH KOREA:

Cho Gue-song, striker, #28

CZECHIA:

David Jurasek, left-back, #14

SOUTH AFRICA:

Ime Okon, defender, #21

also a very honorable mention to ronwen williams and mbekezeli mbokazi

this was lowkey hard (especially for mexico) but i'm excited to learn more about each team!!

[bestiemads]

salsa lessons- benito martinez/bad bunny

summary: benito needs to learn how to salsa dance for his baile inolvidable music video. he takes private lessons and gets more out of it than just salsa dancing skills.

warnings: sexual tension, fluff

pairing: benito martinez x reader (use of y/n throughout)

word count: 1.6k

this was also cross-posted on my ao3! @bestiemads

part 2

💃💃💃

“Thank you so much for coming! I’ll see you all next week!” The crowd of elderly people wished me their best wishes as they exited the room. Teaching salsa was fun, but it got scary when someone’s grandfather turned a little too hard and displaced his hip joint. Poor José, he was truly trying his best. 

I sat down on the floor of my salsa studio to end the day by answering some emails. These emails usually consisted of people canceling their appointments or different moves my clients find on Facebook reels that they think we should try (which are, almost 100% of the time, AI). One of the emails stood out to me today, though, because it wasn’t one of my usual suspects.

Dear Ms. (Y/N),

Hola! This is the management team for singer Bad Bunny. We are reaching out because we have seen your studio online and are very impressed by it. We were wondering if it would be possible to book Benito for a private lesson with you? The reasons for his attendance are top secret, but all he needs to know is the basics and maybe a little more. Thank you so much for your consideration, (Y/N). 

-Bad Bunny’s Management Team

I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Bad Bunny wanted salsa lessons from me? I was the only one who did this in the evenings and weekends as her second job. He could’ve hired quite literally the best salsa teacher in all of Puerto Rico, but he chose me. 

I replied instantaneously, not wanting to mess up this opportunity. My reply was quick and professional, making sure they knew I was delighted to take up this opportunity. Over the rest of the night, the management team and I exchanged emails about the upcoming sessions. I informed them he wouldn’t interfere with my regular sessions and gave them the times I was available. We settled on every Tuesday and Thursday from 7-8:30. I usually ended my classes at 7, but staying an extra hour and a half for the amount they were paying me was well worth it. 

The first Tuesday rolled around, and I had no idea what to expect. 

“Bye, Tommy!” I shouted to my client as he and his wife left the class. I continued to clean up the room as I usually do between sessions. This cleanup took much longer than I expected, so I didn’t even hear the door open and shut as a new person entered the room. 

“¿Hola?” The unfamiliar voice made me whip my head around in horror. Standing awkwardly in the doorway was Bad Bunny, otherwise known as Benito. His toes tapped in awkward restlessness as he examined the room.

“¡Jesús Cristo! You scared me,” I said, almost dropping the resistance bands in my arms. 

“¡Lo siento mucho! No quería asustarte,” the man walked towards me, profusely apologizing for his unexpected entrance. 

“No, you’re fine. Wasn’t expecting you to show up,” I look down at my watch- 7 o’clock on the dot- “exactly on time. Dios mío… this is totally my fault.” I sighed in defeat as I shoved the bands into the bin on the ground. I stood up and straightened myself out. I turned so my body faced the Grammy-award-winning artist. His curly hair is what caught my eye first, then his face. His natural beauty made my cheeks flare up, but I quickly snapped myself back into reality. He was my client, not a potential guy I was bringing home later. 

“Benito,” he stuck out his hand, inviting me to shake it as an introduction. 

“I know. I’m (Y/N),” I accepted his handshake. A contagious smile spread across his face as our hands shook. 

“So, have you ever salsa danced before?” I questioned, setting up the area. 

“A little. Mi mamá me enseñó algo cuando era niño. Eso es todo,” he explained. 

“Alright, show me what you got,” I said, standing a few feet in front of him. My arms folded across my chest.

“¿Eh?”

“Muéstrame lo que sabes,” I said, turning on a traditional salsa song. Benito tried his best to keep up with the beat, but failed pretty badly.

“Wow,” I paused the song, “that was pretty…”

“Bad. I know. I could tell by your facial expressions,” Benito finished my sentence for me. 

“Oh my… I’m so sorry. It wasn’t awful; it just needed a lot of tweaks, that’s all,” I laughed, hoping Benito wouldn’t take my RBF too seriously. Benito joined in on the joke, thankfully. If I ruined this within the first five minutes, I would never recover.

Our sessions continued twice a week, and they truly became what I look forward to every week. Teaching Benito was so much fun; it didn’t feel like I was working half the time. It also didn’t help that Benito was incredibly charming, which in turn led me to develop a huge crush on him. I mean, how could you not? You’re dancing very intimately with Bad Bunny.

“Stop!” Benito stopped his step midway through. 

“¿Te equivocas otra vez?” he disappointingly asked, and I nodded. I secretly loved it when he messed up, because I got to get really close to him. It seemed like recently, especially, he had been messing up a lot. I didn’t mind, though. 

I walked behind the man, his back pressed against my chest. I’ve been this close to him countless times, but every time it manages to make my breath hitch in my throat. I can smell his expensive cologne, which he spritzed on himself in the morning. This time, I noticed his breathing. It’s faster than normal. Not in a way where I would be concerned he’s about to go into cardiac arrest, but at a nervous pace. Was this proximity also giving him thoughts unrelated to salsa dancing? 

We moved to the groove, my guidance helping him master the moves. Even as he mastered every step, I didn’t want to pull away. My head rested on the side of his right bicep so I could see his movements. His biceps flexed at every arm motion, making my stomach do backflips. Every time my hand brushes his thigh to adjust it, his breath hitches in his throat. 

I begin pulling myself away from Benito until I feel his hand grip my wrist. I turn to face him, his body facing mine now. 

“Vamos a bailar. Juntos,” he says, reaching out his free hand to take mine. 

I click play on the song on my phone, which was sitting in my back pocket. 

“¿El baile completo?” I questioned.

“Lo completo.” Our bodies moved to the rhythm. Benito had improved so much over the past few weeks, and I was so happy to see this improvement. Selfishly, though, I was disappointed to see him leave the class in the near future.

“You’ve improved so much since you first started,” I commented.

“All thanks to you,” he said, twirling me. 

“You must be practicing at home,” I accused playfully. 

“Tal vez…” he confessed as if it were a sin. 

“¡Lo sabía! I’m so proud,” I gushed as his cheeks turned red. The dance turned into a comfortable silence, as we gazed into each other’s eyes. The professionalism between us had faded long ago, but now it felt truly nonexistent. 

Benito spun me around halfway, making my back fall into his chest. We swayed back and forth with both our arms wrapped around my chest. His chin was resting in the crook of my neck as we swayed. The tension between us was so thick you couldn’t even slice it with a knife. I averted my eyes from the floor up to look up at him. Our faces were inches from one another; our eyes looking between each other’s eyes and their lips. 

Then, with no room for hesitation, we leaned in and kissed. Any ounce of professionalism that was once there was now completely eradicated. The song, the dance, everything was forgotten the moment our lips touched. I couldn't care less, though. I had fallen so hard for Benito that this kiss was worth losing this job over.

He spun me out of the position so we were facing one another. My outstretched arms were immediately pulled into him as we embraced in another kiss. My hands found the back of his head while his found my lower back. We pulled away and had our foreheads rest on each other’s.

“Eso fue asombroso,” he sighs, pressing another quick kiss to my lips.

“You don’t even know how often I’ve thought about this,” I confessed. 

“Me too.” The same, contagious smile spread across his lips, with my own following suit. 

After our dance, he gathered up his things at the end of the night as I cleaned up the studio. 

“You know,” he started, “I’m learning all of this salsa for a music video I’m filming.”

I gasped. “I thought that information was top secret.”

“It is,” he laughed, “but I thought you should know why you’re teaching me these moves.”

“So you’re not just here for me and my gorgeous face,” I jokingly replied. He approaches me, grasping my face in his hands. He places a soft kiss on my lips.

“Well, that’s definitely a big reason, too. But the main reason why I’m telling you this is that I wanted to ask you to be in the video. You could critique me during the production, so I don’t mess up the final product. Plus, I just want you there, too.” 

“Benito, I would love to be in your top secret music video,” I gave him another quick kiss on the lips. “Now, go. I gotta wake up early tomorrow for work.” I was at the doorway, practically shoving him out. 

“Fine. I’ll see you Thursday,” he placed the final kiss of the night on my lips and left. 

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[bestiemads]

bathroom malfunction- bob reynolds

summary: bob’s bathroom on his floor stops working, so you let him use yours while his gets fixed

warnings: insinuating sexual thoughts, fluff

pairing: bob reynolds x reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 3.5k

this was cross-posted on my ao3!! @bestiemads

⚡️⚡️⚡️

“Yep, my assumptions were correct,” Walker puts down the flashlight and screwdriver he had been using to inspect the shower’s drainage pipe. The rest of the Thunderbolts and I had been hovering around John in the bathroom like a swarm of flies to see what was up with Bob’s bathroom. If you couldn’t tell, life in the tower was truly eventful.

“What’s wrong?” The impatient tone in Bucky’s voice was obvious as he stood at the back of the group.

“There’s something wrong with the pipes in the sink, making it not run correctly. I can almost guarantee it’s the same in the toilet and shower, too. I’m not a plumber, obviously, so I can’t diagnose anything. But, if I had to guess, I think it’s an overall pipe problem on this floor.” Walker got up from the bathroom, dusting off the grime that clung to his pants from the restroom floor. 

“So, I can’t use anything in this bathroom at all?” Bob hesitantly asked, hoping for a much better answer than the one he was about to get.

“No, Reynolds. You’re gonna have to share a bathroom with a willing teammate, and that willing teammate is definitely not me!” Walker dramatically flung his arms in the air, making it known he wouldn’t share his bathroom with the Sentry. Bob looked around the rest of the team, a hopeful glint in his eyes that at least someone would share the bathroom with him.

Bucky and Alexei averted their eyes towards the ground. Yelena looked at a spot on the wall that- all of a sudden- seemed to catch her attention. He didn’t even have to look at Ava, because he knew her answer would be a strict “no.” 

“You can share with me, Bob,” I piped up. “My bathroom is one of the few with a double sink, and you’re only a floor below me. It wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“You sure?” Bob questioned, his overthinking nature constantly taking over him.

“Yes, of course. It’s just a toilet, sink, and shower. It’s not a big deal at all,” I made sure I made my point clear, so he wouldn’t feel as guilty as I know he feels now.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

⚡️⚡️⚡️

I splash cold water onto my face, scrubbing the face wash off my face. I was in my bathroom, getting ready for bed. The faint hum of the bathroom fan rang above me as I continued my nightly routine. Then, three light knocks on my door interrupted the pattern. These knocks weren’t unexpected, though; they were Bob.

I opened the door to find Bob standing hesitantly at its frame, as if he were intruding. His shoulders hung low as his arms wrapped around the green travel caddy, in which he brought his toiletries.

“I’ve been expecting you,” I joked, gesturing into my bedroom. “The bathroom’s that door to your right with the light on.” I shut the bedroom door and followed him into my bathroom.

“You can put your stuff on the sink furthest from the door. I usually use the left one, so the right one can be yours for however long!” Bob put his bag down on the edge of the sink, trying to take up as little space as possible.

“I’ll wait till you’re done getting ready before I start,” Bob said, heading into my adjacent bedroom to sit on the corner of my bed.

“You sure, Bob? There are two sinks for a reason, you know.” I didn’t care at all if Bob was in there while I got ready. Knowing Bob’s shy nature and how awkward he currently felt, though, I didn’t want to push it. When he makes up his mind, it’s pretty hard to get him to change it, especially in social situations like this. 

“Yeah, I am.” I finished getting ready in only a handful of minutes, making small talk with Bob as I did so.

“Alright, I’m done.” My voice was muffled as I patted my face dry for the final time with a towel. Bob and I switched positions so he could do his thing in the restroom. He didn’t shower that night out of his own awkwardness. He did his skincare and brushed his teeth, that’s all. He definitely rushed the routine.

Once he finished, he met me in my bedroom. I was sitting in my bed, scrolling aimlessly on my phone. My head perked up when I saw him, caddy in hand, heading towards my door.

“Goodnight. See you in the morning,” Bob said, waving his hand timidly as he began to exit my room.

“See you in the morning!” My reply was quick as he softly shut the door behind him.

⚡️⚡️⚡️

Bob came to my bathroom many more times after that, and he became more comfortable with each visit. His routine became longer and more precise because he was becoming more comfortable with his sheer presence in my space. His twice-a-day visits became something I looked forward to. Being able to talk with him- just him- with no interruptions, was something I cherished. 

It also helped that I had begun to develop this intense crush on Bob. I had always thought he was cute, no doubt. I thought he was attractive ever since I first saw him stumble out of that container in the vault. His floppy brown curls that matched his equally floppy smile made my heart burst. His unfaltering gentleness in every ounce of his being added to his charm as well. He always asked for permission, even when he didn’t need it. All of his other loving traits branched from his soul of gentleness, which is something that made me fall for him even harder.

That sleeper build he hid under baggy clothes was a positive, too. 

I knew he was ripped after Valentina’s guards shot off half of his shirt. The peak of the lower half of his abdomen made my breath hitch in my chest. I began to think some unwanted thoughts about a guy I had just met. Those thoughts were quickly erased when his body shot into the sky. 

Those undesired thoughts didn’t come back until a few days ago.

I was lying in my bed, watching 13 Going on 30 on my TV. I had never seen the movie, but John raved about it. He said his ex-wife and him watched it while they were dating, and it's still one of his favorites. I told him I had never watched it, which seemed to Walker like the end of the world.

“That movie’s a cinematic masterpiece. You need to watch it.”

So, I decided to watch it tonight. So far, I was genuinely enjoying the movie. The love story was adorable, and the main character, Jenna, was easily lovable. 

The leading man and love interest, Matt, looked quite familiar, though. 

“Bob, don’t you think the guy in this movie looks like Bruce Banner?” Bob had been in the bathroom with the door shut as he took a shower. The water wasn’t running anymore, so I assumed he was done. 

“Who?” Bob replied. He had opened the bathroom door, but I didn’t notice him exit the steamy restroom. My eyes were glued to the TV, entranced by the movie on the screen.

“Bruce Banner. The Hulk. Doesn’t he look like him?” I gesture my right hand towards the screen, where the Bruce-look-alike danced to the song “Thriller” with Jenna. As I said this, my eyes averted towards Bob, who I now realized finally emerged from the bathroom. Once my eyes landed on the Sentry, though, my breath caught in my throat. 

Bob was fresh out of the shower with only a towel wrapped low around his waist. His muscular, wet-skinned glistened in the TV screen’s light. His hands gripped his hips, right around his built abdomen. His brown curls now hung on his head heavy due to the weight of the water and the minimal gel product he raked through it. He smelled good, too- like insanely good. It was so uniquely Bob, making this whole ordeal even more attractive. I knew Bob was built, but seeing his full form right now brought out some thoughts inside me I thought flew away when the Sentry did outside the vault.

“Oh my God, he does. How’d you figure that out?” I barely registered that Bob was talking to me. Luckily, he was too focused on the screen to catch me staring at him. I snapped out of it, my cheeks growing pink in embarrassment. 

“Hmm?” I asked, taking an almost obnoxious gulp of my own saliva. Bob looked over at me, that dopey smile stretching across his face as if his pure being wasn’t sending me into a spiral at that exact moment. 

“How’d you figure out that he looked like the Hulk?” he asked, in the sweetest voice that almost made me melt into my bed.

“Oh, uh, j-just luck, I guess.” The response truly made no sense, or maybe it did; I don’t know. All that was on my mind now were thoughts that would send a priest into a heart attack. 

Bob laughed- his adorable laugh- and walked back into the bathroom. He said something along the lines of “I’m gonna finish up” before shutting the door behind him again. 

I took a deep sigh, flopping my back onto the bed. I had completely embarrassed myself, which hopefully Bob didn’t catch on to. In that moment, I realized I was truly knee-deep in my infatuation with Bob, and I wasn’t getting out anytime soon. 

Ever since that moment, I was never truly normal around Bob. Once I accepted my liking for him, its like I turned into a lovesick teenager again. The only difference this time was that I was not a teenager. I think team members began to pick up on this, especially Yelena. She kept teasing me about it, even when I told her I didn’t have feelings for him. Finally, after constant nagging, I finally told her. She insisted that he felt the same way towards me, but I didn’t believe her.

“Oh. My. God. The lovey-dovey eyes he gives you across the table at breakfast are cartoon-like. I’m surprised his irises don’t turn into two obnoxiously sized red hearts when he does it.” Yelena seemed annoyed at my obliviousness, but truly, at dinner, I tried to avoid eye contact with him. If I did, I truly don’t know what my body would do in the moment (and I didn’t want to know).

“He does not!” I reply, rolling my eyes at the assassin. We were sitting on the floor of the training room, catching our breath after our training session. 

“Oh, but he does. And he sits next to you every movie night. And he always makes you your complicated coffee order in the morning, without you having to ask. And he’s always the first one to perk up when you ask if anyone wants to come run errands with you around town. Need I say more, ‘cause I can keep going.” 

“I think you made your point.” Yelena’s list made you think, really think. He did do all that for you, but was that out of Bob's kindness or attraction?

“I’m just saying, if you shot your shot, I don’t think you’d miss.” Yelena shrugged her shoulders, extending them just so to nudge me with her elbow. 

“You’re spending too much time on your phone,” I laugh, playfully throwing the Gatorade water bottle I had been cradling in my hands at her outstretched legs. 

“I’m connecting with the youth!” Yelena also laughs, copying my actions of throwing her Gatorade water bottle towards me. 

⚡️⚡️⚡️

The sun peered through the blinds, hitting me right in the face. The bright rays hitting my face so fresh out of sleep made my face contort in discomfort. I stretched my arms out wide, knowing I had to get the day started. I got into the bathroom, knowing it was a hair-washing day.

I walked into my bathroom, stripped off my pajamas, and entered the shower. The steam of the hot water enveloped me, making me sigh in relief. As I enjoyed my time in the shower, though, I didn’t hear Bob’s signature three knocks on my door. But I did hear his voice calling through my bedroom, looking for me. 

“I’m in the bathroom, showering!” I called back.

“Ok! I’ll wait for you to finish up,” he replied. Another unwelcome thought popped into my head that I immediately ushered away. 

I finished up my shower in a timely manner, wanting to talk to Bob (and see him) as fast as possible. I still had to do my hair routine, but I could do it while Bob was in here. I wrapped my robe around my body, then called for Bob to come in. 

Bob opened the door, steam rolling out the top door towards my cooler bedroom. Bob had seen me in a robe many times before, and every time, a tinge of pink tinted his face when he saw me in it. I loved it. 

“Sorry, I gotta finish up my hair routine,” I say, squirting a dollop of product into my hands. I flipped my hair down towards the ground and began raking the product into my hair, imagining how much easier life would be if I had straight hair. 

“It’s alright, I get it,” he replies, gesturing to his own mess of curls on the top of his head. We continue to get ready in comfortable silence, like we did some mornings. Some mornings, we were as quiet as mice; the only sound heard was the occasional “excuse me” whispered from one of us. Other mornings were full of endless chatter. Those were my favorites. 

“You know,” Bob broke the silence, usually a task set to me, “my bathroom’s gonna be fixed here really soon. Like this week type of soon.” My heart dropped at his words. In this moment, I realized how much I had really been enjoying his company. Mornings and evenings were going to be dull without his presence in my room. 

“Oh. Well, that’s great!” I said, flipping my hair back upwards, squirting another product into my hands. There was an awkward silence for a moment, a type of silence that never enveloped the two of us.

“But, if I’m gonna be honest,” I hesitantly said, scrunching the product into my damp curls, “I’m gonna miss this. You and I, getting ready in the morning. Just the two of us.” I felt my face become pink at the confession, hoping it would land well with the Sentry.

“I’m gonna miss this, too. I’ve really, really liked getting to know you better.” The sweetness of his reply made my heart swell. This was his usual, sweet nature, and, yet, I knew he meant every word of it. 

“Me too. Like how you can only eat pickles when they're cut horizontally,” I reply, trying my best the entire sentence to suppress the laugh threatening to escape my lips. 

“And that’s the only way to eat them!” he exclaimed, which opened the door for that laugh to escape my lips. 

“Ok, if you want to play that game,” Bob replied in a sassy tone, “I really loved learning how when you went to California with your family, you accidentally brought Walker’s way too big Crocs and had to wear them all around South Beach for a week.” Your mouth dropped in betrayal, a laugh coming from your throat again. 

“Oh, you loved learning that?” I asked, playfully.

“Yes, I did, because I love you!” The words came out of the man’s lips naturally, but like a confession he didn’t mean to confess. The bathroom was now silent, tension hanging in the air so thick a knife couldn’t even cut it. 

“Do you mean that?” I asked, looking at Bob. His head was turned away from me, but I could tell his face was beet red. My question made him turn his head to face me. His eyes were unsure, not knowing if his accidental love confession was going to ruin our friendship or not. 

“I- I mean, yeah. I do. I do love yo-” I cut off what I knew was going to be a long Bob ramble (which, granted, I love but not in this moment), by grabbing his face and placing a kiss onto them. He was at first shocked by the unexpected kiss, but he eventually leaned into it. His hands found their home on my own cheeks as the kiss continued to deepen. I pulled away from the Sentry, feeling him try to pull me back into the kiss when I did so.

“I love you too, Bob. I just didn’t know how to tell you,” I pulled him back for another kiss. He was more passionate with this one, knowing his feelings were shared by me. We both mutually pulled away again, but were still close to one another.

“Glad you took the hard part into your own hands,” I giggled as Bob’s face took a deep shade of red. It was so easy to make him nervous. 

“Being upfront isn’t usually my forte, but if it leads to results like this,” he pulls me flush against his body, “I think I’m going to have to do it more often.” He places a quick peck upon my lips that we both smile into.  

⚡️⚡️⚡️

“Hey, Bob!” Yelena calls from across the hallway. Bob was heading towards my bedroom again, trying to be as sneaky as possible, but obviously not sneaky enough.

“Y- yeah?” Bob hesitantly replies, scared that Yelena was going to catch him in the act of sneaking into his secret girlfriend’s room. 

“That doesn’t seem like your bedroom your heading towards. You’re usually in bed by this time,” Yelena accuses, trying to get Bob to confess something (which is something generally not that hard to do).

“Oh, well, I- I know. I was getting ready for bed and then realized I had left my… toothpaste in her bathroom from when we shared it.” He was lying through his teeth, and it was painfully obvious. 

“So how have you been brushing your teeth for the past three weeks then?” Yelena asked, crossing her arms in a mom-like fashion.

“With soap?” Bob hesitantly said, slightly shrugging as he did so.

“Yuck. Ok, Reynolds, go get your toothpaste. Good night,” Yelena left the hallway, heading towards her own room. Bob approached my door, knocking his signature three knocks on my door. I open it, immediately pulling him into my room. We both sit down on my bed against my headboard, my arms immediately wrapping around his bigger torso.

“Heard you talking to ‘Lena out in the hallway,” I raked my hands through his hair, massaging his scalp. “What did she want?” 

“She wanted to know why I was coming over here. I told her that I left my toothpaste in here from when we shared the bathroom.” I laughed, placing a kiss on his right cheek. 

“She totally knew you were lying. But, whatever, she already knows about my little crush on you anyways,” I said, moving myself so that I’m now sitting on his lap. Bob’s face turns a hint of pink as he places his hands on my face. He was obviously confused but chose not to question me at this time.

“All that matters now is that you’re here. With me,” I say, pulling him into a kiss. The kiss immediately turns deep as my hands tangle in his hair and his finds its place on my waist. We didn’t even hear the many knocks on my bedroom door that eventually turned into the door being opened by Bucky Barnes.

“I knew it!” Bob and I immediately broke apart, seeing the entire New Avengers team standing out my doorway. Alexei was the culprit of the cheering, sticking out his hands towards John and Ava.

“You two owe me 20 bucks. Each! Oh, you two are also so cute, by the way,” Alexei followed Ava and Walker to the kitchen, where they gave him his total of 40 dollars. 

“Sorry to interrupt. We’ll let the two of you get back to… whatever the two of you were doing,” Bucky said. Yelena and Bucky were left at the door, a smug smirk engulfing Yelena’s face. 

“Traitor,” I muttered, which Yelena heard. Her smug look grew even more smug at the comment.

“Bye-bye, lovebirds,” she said, closing the door behind him and the Winter Soldier. Bob’s embarrassed face fell into my chest, eyes shutting due to the awkward interaction. 

“Well, at least we don’t have to sneak around anymore,” I shrug, placing a soft kiss into Bob’s brown curls. 

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