Hi! You can call me Luna. Welcome to my blog! I'll be writing fics for both barça and the spanish nt (men's and women's) and maybe someone else if they catch my eye. Xoxo
NO REQUESTS, PLEASE‼️
Football:
series
one shots
headcanons
social media au
Gymnastics:
one shots
tags you might want to check: luna's asks // luna's opinions // luna's reblogs // luna's one shots // luna's headcanons // luna's socmed aus
i think because of the whole "writers write for themselves" notion that's becoming increasingly popularized, people forget that we still thrive off interaction and kindness. i write for myself but kudos and comments and bookmarks and really any sort of interaction with my fics genuinely motivates me to keep writing and keep sharing my works.
I think what might help the whole "low engagement in fandom spaces driving creatives out because they don't see the point in sharing anything only to get crickets or critics" is not the shaming tone of "look this is how you get nothing, you entitled shits" that tends to be very pervasive, but rather pointing out how actually rewarding it can be to leave nice comments.
I like to leave very long rambling comments on people's fics and that has actually netted me some very real, genuine friendships and we've become cheerleaders for each other. My friend has a D&D Podcast that she doesn't get ANY sort of engagement out of, so I started listening to it at work and livereacting the things I enjoy about it and showing her my investment and it makes her very happy and it makes me happy that she's happy.
Being nice to people... is actually a good enough reason to do things, shockingly enough. You don't have to do it. No one should shame you for not doing it. But it doesn't actually cost anything to make other people happy, especially if they created something that made you happy.
summary: roser and pedri share a table at the book signings.
taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia
masterlist // i do not take requests
Being invited to participate in Sant Jordi was a Catalan author's dream. Roser had packed her bag, posted on her socials in anticipation, inviting her readers to come meet her publishing house's stand in Plaça Catalunya, where she would be signing the books they brought all morning and in the afternoon would join a bookstore in Gràcia to present her next book.
It was a long, exciting day ahead, a huge opportunity to develop her career, and she barely paid attention to the email her agent had sent her reminding her that she would be sharing a stand with another author.
It was a sunny day, the streets were bustling with stands and people wandering, tote bags full of books, and red roses being sold in every corner.
Roser met Pol, her agent by the stand, and one of the social media managers of the editorial was also there to take a few pics of her to promote the stand. They helped her decorate her side of the table with some of her books and prints of her characters, and a little pot with a bunch of glittery pens to do the signing.
People started wandering in, an elderly woman that had not heard of her before, but was very interested and bought a book with a smile on her face; a teen girl that had travelled from Zaragoza explicitly to meet her and that had a puffy face form crying when they took a selfie together; a middle age man that found her books forgotten on one of his commutes on the bus, and got hooked to the stories...
So much she didn't notice the crowd forming next to her stand, waiting for the other author. They were the profile of people that did not read her books, football fans, with their Spain and Barça jersey, little boys inpatienly bouncing on the ball of their feet.
Soon she understood why, when a lean figure, surrounded by security joined her in the table. Roser had seen the posters, announcing Pedri's participation on the signings, since he had published his own children's book, but she had assumed he would have his own table for himself, since so many people wanted to meet him.
"Hi, I'm Pedri," he greeted, as security explained the fans that the signing would have to be very quick since they had loads of people waiting.
"Roser, nice to meet you."
They didn't get much time to talk, since he was soon swarmed by the long line of fans waiting. Roser distracted herself with her own readers, that were always surprised by the amount of line they skipped when they weren't waiting for the football superstar.
Soon she noticed that he could barely spend any time with any of the fans, signing, taking the picture and discarding them for the next, in an attempt of pleasing as many people as possible. Meanwhile, Roser had the time to dialogue with her readers, that told her about her favourite character, scenes, theories, how they had found out about the books...
Time was up before she wanted. It was time to go grab some dinner with Pol and some other men from the publishing house, before she had to take the packed subway to the bookstore.
As she was picking up her stuff, the coordinators indicated to Pedri that they were going to wrap up. He rushed the next autographs and pictures, trying to appease the pleading fans that realised they were too late to meet their idol, as security urged him to leave the premises.
However, he planted his feet on his spot and turned to Roser.
"I'll see you at lunch, no?"
"I don't know, I..."
"With Pol and Guille and all the others?"
"Oh, yes, I'll be there." Roser blushed. Had she thought for a split of a second he was asking her out? Stupid. They took a picture together for the social media manager that wanted to document the events of the day, and her cheeks turned even hotter when he casually put his hand on the small of her waist.
💙❤️
Lunch was at a high end restaurant that Roser could only afford when the publishers were paying. Pedri was sat in front of her, ans she soon realised why there where so many of her friends thirsting over him.
In the pictures they showed her, he looked nice enough, but just like any normal guy their age. Now, in the flesh and talking to her excitedly about her book, which he had seemed to read before hand, when he was told they would share a stand, he was the hottest man in the world.
"How do you do it, come out with such a rich world building? I could never do that."
"Well, it's hard not to. I'm always plagued with the intrusive thoughts of my projects if I'm doing anything. How do you get the ball to do what you want?" She retorted. Pedri grinned.
"I could teach you."
"If it was that easy you wouldn't have those long lines of fans," she retorted.
"I guess I wouldn't," he said, before being pulled into a conversation with his agent and Pol, about the chances of beating Getafe the next day.
"So... how much for a signed copy?" he asked when Guille followed the waiter to pay by the bar.
"Well, most bookstores sell the copies for 17 euros, and I sign them for free..."
"And for a date? Would you sign a book for a date?"
"I guess if I had a boyfriend I would gift him a copy for free, yes..." she admitted, pensive.
"I know, Roser." Pedri gently put both his hands on her shoulders, that were bared due to the thin traps of her red sundress. "I'm asking you to go on a date with me."
"Oh. Oh, then..." she stuttered, surprised by his proposal. "I... they I would give it you when we meet next?" she blurted.
"Then it's settled. I have an away game, tomorrow, but next week?"
"Sounds good to me."
"Perfect."
Once Roser was on the subway, her phone pinged with a notification, and then a succession of more. She grabbed it, finding Instagram be the guilty app. Pedri had followed her, and sent her a DM with a wink emoji, while many Barça fans followed her like a wave of curiosity for the author their idol seemed to like.
Roser wouldn't be surprised if the sales of her books went up too. She got off the subway on her station, navigating the crowd around her, with her heart beating fast.
She had not only done the first half of Sant Jordi, she had gotten a date, and maybe no one had gifted her a red rose, but it was already the best day of her life.
summary: rebeca gets a new patient. one that has her treacherous heart, beating faster than he should; or pedri searches for a second opinion for his injury crises, and he fixes way more than his physical problems.
taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia
masterlist // i do not take requests
Once upon a time, little Rebeca would have said that she wanted to be footballer, and play right next to Leo Messi on the pitch. As time went on, she realised it would be plainly impossible: she was a girl, and girls did not play with boys; and she was not good enough to make it pro anyway.
When she talked about her childhood ambitions, many expected her to continue with a sob, motivational story about how her dreams were crushed by an ugly injury that left her unable to play for the rest of her life, and that motivated her to pursue a career in sports medicine.
But those stories were for Hollywood. The truth was, she had chosen the field on a whim, while she was already studying in college, realising the she would not enjoy working in normal hospitals, treating colds and vomits.
Her workplace was located in Madrid, but recieved athletes from all over the world and multiple disciplines. Carolina Marín, Leah Williamson... the list was long and illustrious, but she always managed to keep her composure and not show her inner fangirl.
"He's so hot in person!" whispered one of the nurses to her colleague, as Rebecca passed them. She had worked four years in the clinic, but she was already one of the most respected memebers and the one many athletes sought when asking for their services.
It was not the exception with the man she was searching.
"Yeah, I expected him to be skinnier," said the other. "Or a littlle bit uglier..."
"His voice is so..."
"And the accent!"
Rebeca sighed. It was not the first time she heard conversations like that. When one worked with athletes all the time, it was bound to happen, attraction. They were perfect specimens of human physique, used ot be exposed to the public and masters of carisma and charm.
And yet, Rebeca had never fallen for it. Her heart was made of stone and ice, unable to beat faster for any man.
The new patient was waiting in her office. His agent had contacted them, a plea of desperation for a second opinion that seemed like the only salvation.
It was not the first time athletes came to her in search of another remedy that would be the key to their salvation. Rebeca hated those appointments. She hated realising that there was no miracle to be performed, that the athlete was incurable.
The few times Rebeca had seen Pedri González on TV, he had seemed a clam, put together man, with an unbreakabe will. The man she saw in her office was broken. Shoulders casted down, expressive eyebrows furrowed and dark eyes showing her the window to a world of anxiety.
Rebeca already knew why. His hamstring, ruptured once more. She might not have been Pedri's appointed doctor until now, but she was culer, and as such, she liked keeping track of the injuries to the players, specially since she had already worked in the ACL reconstructions of players like Alexia Putellas.
"Hi, there," she greeted the boy and his agent, trying to sound as soft and comforting as she could. "I'm Dr Rebeca Fernández, it's a pleasuer to meet you. You're here fro a second opinion, if I understood correctly?"
"Yes." Pedri's voice was as charming as the nurses had implied. "And also..." he stuttered, and the agent took the initiative.
"We also wanted to ask you about his recurring issues. He's injured, yes, but it's not the first time, and none of the preventive methods he tries seem to work out. Is there anything we don't know?"
"We'll see," smiled Rebeca, opening the file with all of Pedri's medical history, from his first cold as a baby to his last muscular issue.
💙❤️
Pedri was a delight as a patient. Obedient and attentive, he did not make it harder than it had to be. He wanted to recover first and foremost.
"We'll send this to the lab, see what they can tell us," she told him about the biopsy. "Depending on how your muscle fibers are structured, one training regime or another will be more eficient and lead to less injuries."
Pedri nodded furiously. He looked like a little boy, fragile and vulnerable. His eye bags looked deeper, his skin paler, stubble unkempt.
"And afterwards?"
"Then you should feel stronger as time passes."
💙❤️
"What do you think?" Rebeca had just finished outlining the training regime he and his trainer should follow to keep him healthy, and Pedri was looking at her like she had just performed a miracle.
"Fantastic," complimented his agent. "Dr Fernández, if this works I will make sure all of my clients get treated by you."
Rebeca nodded slightly, worrying more about Pedri's opinion.
"Thank you, doctor," he said slowly. "I don't know what I would do if it didn't work."
"It will," she reassured. "I've never seen such good probabilities in one patient."
The agent left the office so he could attend a phone call from other client, which left Rebeca alone with the athlete.
"Anything else you think you might need?"
"Can I take you on a date?" Pedri blurted, looking too shy fro the words that had come out of his mouth.
"Well no," Rebecca sputtered in turn. The last thing she had expected him to ask was that and there was a laundry lists of reasons she should say no, despite the way her heart skipped a bit. "I'm your doctor. I can't treat you if I date you, it's not ethical."
"Oh." He slipped off his chair. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me.
"It's okay, don't worry."
💙❤️
Rebeca sat in silence in her office after Pedri left. She had said the right thing, not only was she her doctor, she was also pushing thirty and he was a few months shy of twenty two. It wasn't okay.
And yet, she still felt like she had made a mistake.
💙❤️
"Doctor!" called Pedri from the grass. Rebeca grinned. He looked healthier since she had seen him, happier. His cheeks had a rosy tone and his hair was freshly cut. "Thank you so much!"
He had lost his jersey, and was holding one of the rival's over his shoulder, doing very little to hide his sweaty skin.
"Did you see? An entire season without injuries!" He exclaimed proudly.
"I did!" She acknowledged. Rebeca was aware of the looks the people around in the VIP stands were looking at them curiously. "I'm so glad that it worked out."
"Me too."
💙❤️
"Okay, so let me get this straight," said Fani, closing the tiny bottle of nail polish. "He asked you out when you were taking care of him, you rejected him, he took it well, but then he invited you to his match, to thank you for your work AND he went to greet you shirtless and looking at you like this?" she pointed to the screen of her phone that showed a still form the video of Pedir talking to her after the match with stars in his eyes.
"Yeah?" Rebeca approved of her recounting of the events.
"And you didn't kiss him right there?"
"Obviously not! I'm too old, and it's basically malpractice..."
"You're such a self sabotaging bitch. You need to call him up before he gets himself some Instagram model girlfriend or something like that."
"And it will be a better option for him." Insisted Rebeca. She had admitted to the story of how she had rejected him, but she could not admit yet to the desire she had to have him.
"Better than the doctor that saved his career? I don't think so."
💙❤️
"He will be fine," said Rebeca when the examinations were over. "But the recovery process will take longer than expected, the knee had more damage than we were aware of."
Gavi was still passed out from the anestesia, but she could already rely the outcome of his arthroscopy to his agent and parents. Pedri was also there, sitting back further away. He had been the one to call her when Gavi had the relapse on his knee injury, begging her to perform the same miracle she had with him.
Once she finished, and Gavi's family was allowed to go to his room, Pedri stayed back.
"Thank you," he said. "I don't know what he will do, when he finds out he will be away for months again."
"There a psychologists out there that you can contact," she said, feeling her cheeks heat up. The last time Rebeca had been alone in a room with Pedri, he had asked her out.
He still looked at her the same way, like she was a saint, doing the impossible to save him and his loved ones.
"Yeah, we have one at the club, he does a good work."
"I'm glad. Still, if he wants to go for a specialist outside the club, I can help with that."
Pedri nodded.
"How have you been?" He asked, changing subjects. "You look much better than the last time I saw you."
"I've been good. Working. Nothing has changed since the last time..." she replied. "Pedri?" Rebeca squared her shoulders. She had not become a surgeon and physiotherapist of her calibre by chickening out at what she wanted. "You're not my patient anymore."
And with those words, Pedri's expression, that had been lined with worry, lit up with excitement.
can we please talk ab MarcC pls pls pls pls, he is so hot in like a “2000s pop punk older brother everyone has a crush on” way. and im WEAK for his perfectly symmetrical snake bite moles ghegrgrrgrgrg
like look at me, and tell me he wouldn’t devour in all three fits🫦
NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.
Maybe if people updated more we wouldn't turn to ai
You’re a pathetic, impatient loser. Fanfic writers owe you nothing, and their writing is their own, not yours to do with as you choose, you entitled brat.
summary: esther's friend was invited to a pool party with her latest fling. esther has to face her insecurities and the fact that sometimes, your friends can be worse than enemies. meanwhile, pedri is hit with cupid's arrow.
warnings: fatphobia and body image issues. esther is plus size and some characters mock her for it. eating disorders.
taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia
masterlist // i do not take requests
The sun was abrassive, reflecting on the water of the pool. Esther hated the heat, and eyed the cool water longingly, but did not dare to even think about taking a quick bath.
She would not have attended the party if it wasn't for Zoe, her best friend, who had been invited by one of the boys there, Alejandro, who was flirting with her. Zoe had insisted, pointing out she didn't know anone in the crowd except her situationship, and that having her there would give her confidence.
The first few minutes told Esther that she should have declined, as she wanted to do initially.
Alejandro was not just some rich boy Zoe had bagged, he was a whole ass elite footballer, one of the Barça gems, and the group friend Zoe didn't know was formed by his same age teammates and their respective girlfriends or flings.
There was no real reason for Esther to be there, and it was obvious many of them agreed.
Esther was not as insecure as she had been growing up. She had made peace with her body to a certain extent: her eating disorder was barely a memory, and she was not afraid of trying new clothes at stores.
But pools and beaches were a whole other can of worms she had not tackled yet, and doing so surrounded of elite athletes and some of the most beautiful women in the world, with their skinny, toned bodies and pretty bikinis was not helping her at all.
She sat by the border of the pool, her t-shirt still on, an awkawrd smile on her face. Zoe had left her almost immediately, and was now sitting on Alejandro's shoulders as she played some game with him and Fermín, who had his own girlfriend on his shoulders.
Somebody made a joke that Esther didn't catch, but she still faked a small laugh. Her eyes landed on Pedri, but when she noticed he was already staring, she darted her gaze away immediately.
She took a deep breath, and stood up quietly, to slip away to the bathroom. Esther needed a minute, alone, to fix her hair and maybe draft a plan to leave the party before it was time.
The bathroom was as posh as she expected, and she brushed the loose strands of her dark hair into the braid Zoe had doe earlier, while trying to touch as few thing as possible. She was already hard to miss, with her size, she did not wish to cause any more trouble.
Once she deemed everything right, she returned to the garden, but stopped right by the door when she heard her name.
"Eshter and I have been friends since high school," was saying Zoe.
"And was she always... you know..."
"Oh, yeah. She always makes everyone around her look skinny."
Esther's stomach dropped. It wasn't the first time she heard something like that, but she had thought Zoe valued her more. A murmur of laughter came from the pool.
Esther took a step, and then another, finally making it back to the pool. Most of the boys were pilled around an old grill, trying to make the barbeque, while the girlw had gotten together, giggling about something Esther had not caught.
She approached them cautiously, feeling like a deer among a pack of wolves.
"Hey, Esty!" called one of the girls she didn't know. "Where is that shirt from?"
Esther looked down to her t-shirt, an old Iron Maiden logo on it.
"It was from my father," she replied shyly.
"Ah, of course." The girl shared a knowing look with the other women in the group, that Esther was not part of. Even Zoe smirked.
A wave of nausea hit Esther. She really wanted to get out of there.
"Hey, girls!" Esther startled when Pedri appeared from behind her. He was shirtless, droplets of water from the pool still falling from his shoulders until they met the hem of his bathing suit. She averted her gaze before it could even be considered staring. She knew the mocking would be worse if they could attach some sort of crush to her. "Balde is such a genius, he forgot getting some firewood, I'm going to buy some really quick. Esther, right?"
Her eyes shot up, not expecting him to actually adress her.
"Do you want to come with me?"
Yes, was the first thing she thought. Let me get away from everyone. But she heard the little snort form one of the girls, and she cowered. Zoe had an incedulous smirk on her face.
"I..."
"C'mon, it will be fun!" he insisted, grabbing her wrist. "Pick up your things, we're going hunting wood!"
Esther didn't really have a choice, as Pedri alomost dragged her towards the car. She had the idea to take her bag with her, not leaving any of her posessions behind.
In the car, Pedri was humming one of the songs on the radio as he searched the nearest store in Google Maps, while Esther wondered what would be the best way to ask him to drop her at the closest subway station.
"You know... I didn't realise Zoe was so mean. And all the others too."
The comment caught Esther by surprisee.
"They are not mean," she heard herslef saying.
"Bullshit, they are mean. They were mocking you earlier, about you weight, weren't them?"
"Yes, but..."
"No buts. It was mean. And we should probably question the friendships we keep, if that is how they behave." Without looking away from the road, he handed her his phone. "This is probably the last time Zoe and Alejandro hang out. But it doesn't have to be the last time we meet. Give me your number?"
Esther's lips twitched.
"I don't think that is a good idea," she explained. "I know when I'm being set up. You're not the only one to ask me out in a dare, Pedri."
Pedri frowned.
"That is not what I'm doing," he said. "I genuinely want to meet you, I think you're really cute..."
Esther's sharp scoff interrupted him.
"Do not mock me," she asked him. "Please..."
"I mean it."
"Could you please drop me by the subway station?"
"What? Why?"
"I wanna go home," she admitted. Pedri looked concerned, and then offered the phone again.
"Write your address, I'll leave you at your house. You do not need to go to the subway like this."
"But the firewood..."
"They can wait for a little bit," he replied, decidedly. "Your address, cariño."
Esther obeyed, and Pedri turned around the car, following the instructions from the phone. Soon, the neighborhood changed from the fancy one the footballers lived in, to the claustrophobic streets she knew.
During the whole trip, Pedri kept making small talk with her, a pleasant smile on his face as he talked about the beaches in his island.
"Thank you," she told him as she left the car.
"Don't worry about it," he replied with a wink.
💙❤️
Esther thought that would be the last thing she would hear from Pedri. She had blocked Zoe in all social media once she settled in her home, preparing to start again, searching for a new friend group.
But a week later, a bouquet of flowers arrived to her home. They were tulips of all colors. The note was short.
"They made me think of you when I saw them on the store, Pedri"
Esther snorted. Of course Pedri had taken advantage of having her address saved on his phone, since he did not have her number. She blushed, not being able to rememebr the last time a boy had actively tried to pursue her.
💙❤️
Pedri did not stop sending flowers. It was a twice a week occurrence, the delivery guy bringing a new bouquet with a new sweet note.
One of them included Pedri's phone number, a ballsy move, knowing that she could leak it to the internet. For the first time in years, she felt wanted.
Esther grabbed her phone and typed his number on it.
There was nothing to lose, right?
💙❤️
"See how it's me?" teased Pedri with a bright smile. Esther blushed as she got on the car.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
When they had started to text, she had felt paranoid that it was just a joke by Zoe and other girls, like some friends had done to her when she was little. She had begged to talk in a phone call more often than texts, just to reassure herself with his voice, but even then, she kept a distance.
Pedri noticed. He noticed almost everything, like he did when he was on the pitch, and soon forewent the texts and almost always videocalled, no matter how awkward it could be sometimes.
He even offered to meet again sooner than she expected, just to make sure her fears were shut down as quickly as possible, that she understood she really meant it with his flirting.
Pedri had noticed Esther the second she stepped on Alejandro's house. He knew everyone at the party, so her presence was kind of like a mistery to him, specially when he noticed how withdrawn from the crowd she had become.
Whenever new girls joined them, they always tried to do some networking, or at least be as friendly as possible. But Esther seemed to want to know as little about them as she could, and looked ready to bolt away for most of the gathering. It was obvious to Pedri that something was making her uncomfortable, and the comments about her weight he heard and the way she refused to strip to her swimsuit told him the full story.
The thing was, Pedri spent most of that afternoon trying to figure out how to approach Esther without sounding or acting like a creep. He was obsessed with the glances he could steal of her thick, pale thighs, the glossy look of her hair or how sweet and round her face looked.
To Pedri, Esther was gorgeous, and the mocking and disrespect were not only offensive, but also a complete lie.
He had not expected Esther to be so reticent to his advances, at least not if she liked him back. But have her be so insecure towards their tentative relationship just because she seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop? Yeah, that broke his heart.
The trip to his own house was shortened by their lively conversation. Pedri's heart was swollen whenever he realised he had gained enough of Esther's trust for her to let loose a bit and giggle or share the things she was passionate about, like indie music or make up.
For their date, Pedri had made, with a little help form Fer, some roasted potatoes and fried fish, and he was moe than excited to share the food with Esther.
She seemed to love it, blushing whenever he made eye contact with her over the candles he had set up. Pedri wished he could have this view for evey dinner he had for the rest of his life. He wouldn't be content with less.
By the time the plates were cleared and washed, Pedri had an idea. September nights were still hot, and his pool was still well tended and open. It was perfect for an in pomptu bath.
💙❤️
"I'm not sure that is a good idea..." hesitated Esther, watching how Pedri dragged her to the garden. "I don't even have a bathing suit..."
"We can do it with our underwear, it will be fun!" he insisted, taking off his shirt.
"Pedri..." her gaze darted away. He stopped on his tracks, and he tuned to look at her, really look at her.
"It will be fine," he said, gaze softening. "I mean it. It's just water, it's just me."
"I..." she stuttered. "I am sorry I'm not that kind of pretty."
Pedri tilted his head.
"That is not true," he said gently. "Fuck, Esty, there is nothing further from the truth."
"I..."
"We don't need to do this," he put on his shirt again, closing the distance between the both of them, hands closing over her shoulders. "I really want you to be comfortable, okay?"
She tried to not let her face slip into a saddened pout. She wanted him to have fun, and her insecutity was keeping him from doing what he wanted.
"I'm sorry," she insisted.
"Hey," Pedri lifted his hand to caress her cheek. "Nothing to be sorry about, cariño."
He pressed his lips to her forehead, arms finally pushing her into a tight hug. Esther melted on the embrace letting him craddle her.
"Do you want to watch a movie?" he offered with a small smile on his lips. His eyes were full of love and understanding, a far cry from the way her ex friends used to look at her when she struggled with her body image.
"Yes, please?"
They went back into the house, and Esther snuggled close to his side, her head resting on his chest. He was comfortable, a gentle presence.
She would be fine, she realised. Pedri was laying the groundwork for her to be able to grow comfortable. Tonight she would not jump on the pool, but she knew she would be able to do so soon.
And Esther could not wait to see what her relationship with him turned out.
summary: marc invites teresa to have dinner with him, like in that movie he loved as a child.
taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia
masterlist // i do not take requests
Marc took a deep breath, as he parked the car in fornt of the gates of the Vilamajor household. It was practically a mansion, as fancy as it got in Barcelona, the kind of opulence very few could afford.
He texted Teresa, informing her that he has arrived, checking the time three times in his phone to make sure he was not late. Her silouhette appeared on the garden, strutting like a supermodel towards his car.
Marc adjusted the collar of his buttoned up shirt.
It was now or never.
The door of the passenger side opened, and a soft and expensive scent of roses reached him.
"Good evening," she said. She was wearing a white fur coat, and beneath a black dress that Marc could not wait to see properly.
"Hi!" he replied anxiously. He was already lucky that Teresa had agreed to this date, let alone, allowed him to talk to her, he could not fuck this up. "How are you? How is your day going?"
"It's been a nice day," she said softly. Even her voice was silky. "But it depends on you how it ends." Marc gulped. "And yours?"
"I've been very anxious about this date," he admitted. "Been thinking about it for days."
A small smile tugged on Teresa's lips, as he started driving back to his house.
Marc had deep cleaned the entire apartment that moring, he had been in the kitchen preparing the tomato sauce and meatballs for the dinner all afternoon, only stopping to get showered and panic over his wardrobe.
He was glad this was his free day, or he would have been a disaster in trianing, and Flick might have tried to drop him from the starting eleven.
"So... what did you plan for today?" Teresa asked casually.
"Spaghetti meatballs and candle light for dinner," he said proudly.
"Is that so?" Teresa was arching an eyebrow, and amused expression on her face. "Eyes on the road."
"Sorry," he said, fixing his gaze ahead. "It's just... you look very pretty."
"Oh, well, aren't you a flatterer."
Marc's ears turned pink, and he became grateful that he had something to do with his hands and could not take his eyes away from the road.
"It's the truth," he mumbled. Marc could not see Teresa's endeared simle, but he could feel her eyes on him, which made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.
His apartment wasn't as luxurious as her home, but Marc made an effort to keep it tidy and nice. It was a studio, in a calm neighbourhood of Barcelona, the only big investment he had done after leaving La Masia.
Marc took Teresa's coat and hung it by the entrance, as she stepped inside, gray eyes scanning her surroundings.
"You're really into Barça, huh?" she commented, as he started to boil the water for the pasta. He had not wanted the food to be stiff whent they came back, so he had decided to cook the spaghetties once he had picked her up.
"Yeah, it's my life," he replied truthfully.
"You know, usually die hard football fans are considered a red flag," Teresa said, fingers caressing a blaugrana blanket he had folded in a corner of the couch.
Marc's gaze shot towards her, alarmed.
"I..."
"But I guess it's different when you actually play for the team," she decided, with a cheeky smirk. "Whatever happens to the club actually affects your life."
Marc sighed in relief, as the water started to boil. He threw the salt and the spaghettis, impatient to have the food ready.
"You can sit if you want," he told her, grabbing the matches and lighting up some candles he had set up in the middle of the table.
"Thank you."
The dress was small and tight, made of silk. Marc hoped it wasn't expensive, because if he had his way, he would be tearing it down by the end of the night.
Teresa sat with her legs crossed, and accepted the glass of white wine Marc opened for her. Her red lipstick left a mark on the rim of the glass, that had Marc going a little bit insane.
He drained the pasta and mixed it with the toamto sauce, added the cheese and the meatballs, and finally set the dish on the table, sitting in front of Teresa.
It was then when he finally noticed the smile on her face, the way it reached her eyes. She was fond, endeared. A sigh left his chest. Okay, he could do this.
Teresa grabbed a forkful of pasta and put it in her mouth, all while making eye contact. Marc hel ¡d his breath.
"It's good," she said, and he could tell that she meant it. His entire body relaxed. "Any reason as to why we only have one plate?"
"Like in the movie."
"What movie?"
"The one with the dogs, I can't rememebr its name."
"You planned a movie themed date and you don't know the movie's name?" she taunted.
"It's hard ot think when you're looking at me!" marc complained, ears turning pink.
Teresa giggled, singling out one spaghetti with her fork.
"Here," she said, offering one end to the boy. Put it in your mouth."
Marc obeyed and Teresa put the other end between her lips. That way as they both were suckling on the spagheti, their faces got closer and closer, until their lips met in a small kiss. Teresa broke the spagheti with her teeth, and smirked as they parted.
"The name is Lady and the Tramp," she said with a teasing smile.
summary: riley does a stupid thing that pisses off her brother. gavi is the stupid thing.
taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia
masterlist // I do not take requests
Riley did it without thinking of her brother. In her opinion, his idea of her doing it to spite him was self centered and simply stupid.
Frenkie had always told her to stay away from his teammates. That they were never good enough or had pure intentions, whatever that meant. Riley had always ignored that requests, it was easy to follow after all, most of the guys sharing locker room with him were either slimy, too old, or plainly unattractive.
But then she met Gavi for the first time.
He had just benched Frenkie, which wasn't exactly something that thrilled him, specially when Gavi was just soaring, both with Xavi's approval and the fans' love.
Riley undertood that homemade players like Gavi would always get preferential treatment by the public and the media, but she soon realised that there was something about Gavi that drew her, and everyone else, in: Gavi was ridiculously charming.
At just seventeen years of age, Riley was aware enough to notice the way girls gravitated towards him, rosy cheeks, strident giggles and nervous tics.
She was no different.
In the beginning, she was decided to listen to Frenkie's advice, ignoring the way her heart flutttered when he greeted her during celebrations and team family reunions. For a few years, it was easy to avoid, Since she spent most of her time int the Netherlands with the rest of the family, and very little in Barcelona with Frenkie.
But of course, after traveling to the Catalan city to celebrate the Supercopa title, things would change.
Gavi's charm had been combined with a growing self confidence, as he felt more sure on his grown up skin. Twenty one year old Riley did not blush, nor giggle, but she did sink her nails into the palms of her hands, when she relaised he was more attractive than she remembered.
Which could mean nothing, but...
A couple of alcoholic drinks and a wink were everything she needed to end up on his bed, ignoring Frenkie's text messages asking where she was. She would have deactivated her location if she knew what Frenkie would do.
Becaus as she was lazily making out with Gavi, after the hottest sex of her life, there was banging on his door. Gavi went to open wearing only his pants, and putting on his shirt on the way, letting Riley have enough time to dress on her own before she followed him to the hall, where she found him arguing with her brother.
"Where is she?" was asking Frenkie, in a harsh tone of voice. One would think about Frenkie that he was too calm, he never rised his voice or got angry at anything, so seeing him so distressed was rare.
"Here," Riley said standing behind Gavi, crossing her arms. It was obvious what they had been doing, undeniable even, and she could see the way it dawned on Frenkie.
"Let's go," he said, pushing at Gavi to get to Riley. "We're going home."
"Actually, no," cut Gavi, standing firm on his way. "She's not a little kid, she will go if she wants to."
Frenkie rolled his eyes.
"You are both children, as a matter of fact."
"No. we're not." Riley sided with Gavi. "If you don't mind, we were kind of in the middle of something."
"Absolutely no. I will not be the uncle of a teen pregnancy."
"I'm pretty sure we need ot be teens for it to be a teen pregnancy," snapped Riley.
"And believe it or not, we know what condoms are," added Gavi.
Frenkie opened his mouth to say something, but desisted.
"I want you home for lunch," he said.
"Fine." Riley knew when to take an olive branch. "I'll bring Gavi."
"No you won't"
"Yes, I will. Bye!"
Riley closed the door on Frenkie's face, turning to Gavi, who was looking at her with some sort of admiration in his face.
"I'm sorry..."
"Nah, don't be, it's kind of funny." He was smiling. "He's going to go for my ankles in training, though."
Riley scoffed.
"No, he won't. We're making sure he chills out during lunch."
"And how do you plan on making that? I mean, I could ask for your hand in marriage, so we don't ruin your reputation or something, but I don't think you want that."