Title: ferran torres being obsessed with yn for 9 minutes straight
Pairing: Ferran Torres and Blackfem!reader
Summary: Compilation of Ferran just being obsessed with his girlfriend for minutes straight. 🤟🏾✨️
The video opens with him being interviewed post match, journalists are asking standard, dry tactical questions. Ferran sits there with his classic, serious media face, jaw clenched, nodding politely, totally locked in. But then, a reporter phrases a question, “...and how has life in Barcelona been settling down for you and Y/n your girlfriend?”
The shift is instantaneous. The rigidity melting immediately away. His head tilts, his eyes crinkle at the corners, and this massive, helpless boyish smile breaks across his face before the reporter can even finish the sentence. He has to bite his lip to try and steady himself, rubbing the back of his neck as he murmurs into the mic, “Yeah, thanks for the question, she.. she makes everything easy, you know? We are moving, and things have been hectic, but she makes it feel so light.”
*[0:43 - 1:30] The Invisible Tether*
Footage from a crowded airport lobby after an away game. Fans are swarming the barriers, shouting his name and shoving jerseys forward for an autograph. Y/N, dressed casually in an oversized leather jacket and shades, quietly steps back out of the frame, giving him space to interact with the supporters without being suffocated.
Even though he’s signing pictures and smiling for selfies, his head is on a constant swivel. He signs a jersey, looks up, and his eyes immediately scan the lobby until they lock onto her, waiting near the security line. The second he spots her, his shoulders visibly relax. He gives her a quick, subtle nod—just checking in, and doesn't stop looking back at her between every single autograph. He literally can not function if he doesn't know exactly where she is standing.
*[1:31 - 2:15] The Look*
A high-definition fan-cam from the stands during a warm-up session at Camp Nou. Y/N is sitting on the bench near the tunnel, chatting with one of the staff members. Ferran is supposed to be doing drills, but the camera catches him jogging backward, his eyes entirely glued to her. He has this look of pure adoration, mouth slightly open, eyes soft and heavy, completely captivated. Someone passes him the ball, and it literally hits his foot and rolls away because he's too busy staring at her laughing.
*[2:16 - 3:05] Paparazzi in Paris*
Or that one time they were spotted inside a high-end designer boutique in Paris. Y/N is looking through a rack of clothes, holding up a sleek silk dress to her frame, and it seemed like she was asking about his opinion on it. Ferran isn't even looking at the dress. He’s standing directly behind her, acting like a human shield.
His large hands are locked firmly around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest. He leans down, resting his chin on her shoulder, murmuring something in her ear that makes her throw her head back in a laugh, and he immediately plants a soft kiss right on the side of her neck, completely unbothered by the staff or the cameras outside.
*[3:06 - 3:55] The TikTok Fan-Cam*
A viral, 45-second twitter recorded discreetly by a fan sitting a few tables away at a dim, private restaurant in Madrid. The video is zoomed in close. Ferran and Y/N are sitting together, but they’ve both abandoned their food. He’s holding both of her hands, his thumbs stroking the backs of her fingers. They are locked in intense, deep eye contact, completely lost-in conversation, smiley faces and shiny lovey eyes. At one point, Y/N leans forward to whisper something, and Ferran reaches up, cups her jaw with his palm, and pulls her in for a quick lingering kiss. The rest of the restaurant is bustling around them, but they always seem to look like they were the only people in the room. All the time.
*[3:56 - 4:40] Heavy Hands*
A compilation of shorter clips highlighting Ferran’s incredibly touchy, possessive nature when they walk together. Whether they are leaving a stadium or a place, walking through a hotel lobby, or hitting up a grocery store, his hands are never just politely resting by his side. In almost every clip, his arm is hooked low around her hips, his palm resting heavily and comfortably right against the curve of her ass, or having them in her back pocket, pulling her closer to his side with every stride. It’s casual, confident, and completely instinctual for him.
*[4:41 - 5:25] The Ultimate Hype-Boy Instagram Story*
A screen-recording of an Instagram story Ferran posted. It’s a mirror selfie Y/N took before a gala, wearing a gorgeous, form-fitting dress that hits every curve perfectly. Ferran reposted it to his main feed, adding no text except a row of drooling emojis and a single red heart, making sure his millions of followers know exactly how obsessed he is with his girl’s. It was deleted after a couple of minutes. Yn probably threatened him to delete it, lol.
*[5:26 - 6:15] Table for Two (and a Dog)*
A chaotic, sweet snippet from yn's vlog. They are sitting in their kitchen making a casual lunch. One of Ferran’s rescue dogs is begging for food at Y/N’s feet. Y/N goes to move away to get a plate, and Ferran literally grabs her by the belt loops of her jeans, pulling her back into his space. He wraps his arms around her from behind, locking her in place, and just buries his face in her hair while she complains that she can’t cook with him attached to her spine.
*[6:30 - 6:55] Switched sides*
A sweet, stable video taken by a fan on the streets of Barcelona. The fan didn't recognize Ferran at first; they ran up because they recognized Y/N from her own socials. The video shows the fan asking Y/N from her picture. Instead of looking annoyed or impatient, Ferran eagerly steps forward, reaching out his hand to take the fan's phone. The fan later wrote in the caption: “Ferran literally had the biggest, proudest smile on his face while taking the photo of us, like a professional Instagram boyfriend 😭.”
*[7:01 - 7:45] The locker room*
A clip from a behind-the-scenes club documentary. The team just won a major trophy, and the locker room is absolute chaos—champagne flying, music blasting, players screaming. Amidst the madness, the camera pans to the corner. Ferran is sitting on a bench, completely detached from the party, holding his phone up on a FaceTime call with Y/N. He’s pointing the camera around to show her the celebrations, yelling over the noise, “Mira, mi amor! We did it! I wish you were down here!”. With a smile that looks like it’s splitting his face in two.
*[7:46 - 8:30] Blind to the Red Carpet*
Footage from a charity gala red carpet. The photographers are flashing lights rapidly, shouting at Ferran to look left, look right, look at the center lens etc. Ferran complies for about three seconds before he turns entirely to his left to look at Y/N, who is adjusting her gown. He steps out of his solo posing slot, grabs her hand, and pulls her into the center of the backdrop with him. He spends the next two minutes just looking down at her, whispering something that makes her grin, completely ignoring the direct instructions of the event coordinators.
*[8:31 - 9:14] The Final Whistle Melt*
The video ends with slow-motion footage from the final whistle of a high-stakes match. Ferran scored the winning goal. His teammates run up to hug him, lifting him in the air, but the camera tracks his eyes. The absolute millisecond he breaks free from the huddle, he looks straight toward the family VIP box. He locks eyes with Y/N, raises a hand to his lips, blows a direct kiss right to her section, and taps his chest twice.
kimi antonelli x reader (faceclaim: tyla, rayan xasan and a few random pinterest girls
kimi.antonelli Buon compleanno al mio cuore, spero di poter passare il resto della mia vita svegliandomi accanto a te happy birthday to my heart, i hope i get to spend the rest of my life waking up next to you
View 18,233 comments
bambiyn Ti amerò per sempre Kiki I will love you forever kiki
—kimi.antonelli Ti amo di più i love you more
bestie1 fine i guess i can share her with you since you spoil her
—bambiyn he has nothing on you bby
bambiyn monaco you owe me nothing🌺🌸🌷
View 813 replies
Comments are limited
kimi.antonelli Il mio prezioso angelo my precious angel
—bambiyn my fav person in the entire world
—sister you guys are so cute stop itttt
—brother no seriously stop it😑
mommyn i miss you my daughter
—bambiyn i miss you too mommy, see you soon
yn outfits y/n’s outfits for the monaco gp
View 73 comments
user76 finally we have a wag who serves fashion full time
ynfan Y/N LIKED OMGGGG
user93 kimi found one of the baddest baddies to ever exist
— user344 no like seriously how did he pull her
@yn just posted!
“hey guys, i literally just landed back in san marino after the best weekend of my life in monaco!” you say as you show off your bouncy blowout.
“firstly kiki won his race and dedicated his win to me then he threw me a surprise birthday dinner with all my besties flying in for the night,” you giggled as kimi is heard exclaiming not to call him that somewhere in your shared apartment.
“anyway i’m gonna get ready for bed now but i wanted to show you how good my hair held up in the monaco heat even though i got it done on thursday” you say as you move into your bathroom to show off the product behind all this, the amika dry shampoo.
“also, i met so many of you guys out in monaco last week and so many people wished me a happy birthday and gave me bag charms. i really appreciate it guys and i’m gonna force kiki to grow my bag collection so i can display all of them”, you say as a joke even though you know some fans will twist it to prove you’re a gold digger.
“ i’m gonna-“ you start off as you hear kimi yelling that dinner is ready and to wrap it up with your new “friends”.
“i have to go guys but thank you for all the gifts and kindness again. i love you!” you exclaim while stopping the recording and saving it to post later
View 156 comments
user23 she’s such a sweetheart fr
useryniee kiki refusing to be called that and her continuing is frying me
hater4 of course she’s gonna use him for more bags, typical gold digger
— user13 he’s not gonna pick you babe, move on
user56 they’re my favourite grid couple honestly
—𑣲⋆ author’s note: hey guyssss i’ve been going through a lot but i have also been crushing on kimi so this is my attempt at easing back into “writing”. i hope you like it :)))) it’s really short though lol
let me know who else you’d like for me to include in my smau’s
i lost my mom over a month ago to a long battle with cancer so i’ve had no inspo before and after her passing and that’s why i’ve disappeared from here
i’m slowly healing and starting to want to even write and make moodboards. i also have something i’ve been working on for the past two days that should be up soon :)
i hope everyone is doing much better than i am right now. love you all!!!!
send requests and i promise i’ll get to them eventually
summary: you take pictures with your boyfriend inside a photobooth
a/n; this is was requested by many people so thank you very much ♡
⤷ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
the 2 of you haven't seen eachother for months due to your busy schedules -- so you decided to hangout for the day in the capital.
you stepped out of the metro to meet up with your boyfriend at a specific spot, after an exhausting journey underground, wearing a baby pink long-sleeved sweater with black casual flares.
once you've finally reached the top of the steps, you spotted desiré waiting for you, hands inside the pockets of his grey hoodie, smiling warmly -- the long wait seemed worth it according to him. you walked straight into his arms, hugging him briefly before giving him a soft peck on the lips.
"hey, missed you.", he mumbled against your skin -- voice low and warm, making you chuckle. "missed you too hun." you replied -- till your attention drifted towards the photobooth by the mall entrance. désiré raises his eyebrows, following your gaze before letting out a dramatic pout.
"bébé, do you seriously want to take photos with that machine? you literally have a camera at home that we could've used..." your boyfriend complains to you. "come onnn, it's a one off des," you insisted, tugging him towards the booth -- making sure that no one else gets there first before you.
you looked at the machine in adore, whilst your hand was still gripping onto désiré's, so that he doesn't wonder off, even though he eventually gave in a few seconds ago.
"are you tired?"
"no." — if that's the case... 🤔
you pulled open the dark curtains -- allowing the 2 of you to step inside. désiré watched you adjust the settings on the screen, waiting patiently. once you've finished you signaled him to get ready for the timer. he cupped your jaw gently, pulling you closer — trying not to laugh at the way he looked at you. until the camera flashed. “click”
moments later, you guys were still in the photobooth for 20 MINUTES — taking picture after picture, enjoying the rare moment of peace together. after taking your last pictures, you decided to exit the machine until désirè grabs your hand before he stepped out to get your attention. "thank you, y/n." he said softly smiling.
"i know we haven't seen eachother for a few months, but i'm really glad that i was able to have the time to spend with you today." THIS made your chest ache even more, butterflies fluttering your stomach!!!
"ay no worries amour.", you smiled back at his words as you watched him flicking through somd of the photos. you decided to pull your phone out to take a picture of one of the photos where you were jokingly sticking your tounge out at your boyfriend's face, and the one where he was giving you playful neck kisses when he had enough of you annoying him.
aurélien tchouameni x black original character, angst
synopsis : when jordyn, former world no. 1 returns to the tennis court after a two-year break, she is met with another challenge that seemed more difficult to overcome: the imposter syndrome and the aftermath of a failed marriage proposal
n/a : this is based on an old story i deleted, enjoy!!
Jordyn took a deep breath before entering the house. She hadn’t been there since Aurélien’s failed marriage proposal almost four weeks ago. Thankfully, she was flying to Germany tomorrow to attend a tennis tournament; her first in two years. She hoped it would distract her a little bit from her chaotic life.
The young woman walked inside the house; everything seemed a little more sinister than how she remembered it. This place that used to feel like her safe space, warm and filled with happiness, had become cold and lifeless. Her expression stiffened, and a tension pressed heavily on her shoulders as she walked to the staircase. She traced the outlines of the empty picture frames, strengthening the hollowness of this place.
“I’m sorry,” the young woman whispered as she sat on the stairs. She didn’t know who she was apologizing to, but felt the need to let out the guilt gnawing at her inside.
Jordyn stared at the emptiness of the hallway connected to the living room. The lights were off. She was all alone with her thoughts and the memories of the past. She wondered whether Aurélien felt this same weight every day, or if it was worse for him. Did he hate her for wasting the last five years of his life? Did he invite other women around to his house, or was the ache too strong for him to move on quickly?
Jordyn had so many things she wanted to know. If she could go back in time, she would have done things differently. She had already planned her future with the Frenchman—their wedding, the honeymoon, and the names of their children. However, life had other plans for them, and everything turned to dust in the blink of an eye.
A silent, but painful sigh escaped her lips as she wiped her tears and stood. Jordyn wasn’t here to reminisce. She had told Aurélien, through her best friend, that she would come to the house to get her stuff. “That’s the whole point of this visit,” she tried to convince herself while walking to the bedroom she once shared with her ex-boyfriend.
She hesitantly opened the door, and, just like the rest of the house, it was empty, soulless, and cold. She could tell that Aurélien hadn’t slept in this room for a while, but she couldn’t blame him because she would have done the same thing. She didn’t know that the young man was avoiding this room and would spend his time in their guest room to avoid reality a little longer and forget that the love of his life had left.
Jordyn sighed and picked up her luggage. She was determined to erase every trace of her existence between these four walls for Aurélien’s sake. She didn’t want to cause any more damage to his fucked up life.
Her heart ached. Jordyn loved him so much, but couldn’t do it. Why did she have to hurt someone else to free herself from the weight she had carried for so long? Marriage was a big step—a commitment she wasn’t ready to settle for. Spending the rest of her life with the person she loved in hopes of founding a family was all she had dreamed about since she met Aurélien. She couldn’t wait for this moment to come, to wear a beautiful dress and enjoy the best night of her life alongside her husband.
However, her dream stopped when she saw Aurélien on his knee, a little box in his hand. She felt it in her bones; it became clear. A chill ran down her spine, and reality finally hit her as anxiety gnawed at her. The fairy tale in her head started to crumble. The church bells she used to hear so clearly were slowly fading, just like the image of her walking down the aisle. It had all vanished, like Cinderella’s magic after midnight. She would never forget the horrified look on his face when she said no. The thought of rejecting him in front of his family made her dizzy, she couldn’t force herself to accept.
Jordyn lay on the bed, on Aurélien’s side. Nobody had made it in a while; it looked messy, just like it was the day she left. She closed her eyes, a faint smile on her lips, and let the fatigue wash over her, without hearing the car outside.
Aurélien felt a pang in his chest when he saw Jordyn’s car in his driveway. He already knew about her visit, but the pain persisted. Besides, he didn’t hate her for rejecting him. No, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He couldn’t force her to marry him and respected her decision. He couldn’t do anything about it and had to accept the sad reality. Feelings didn’t last for life, a lesson he had to learn the hard way.
Aurélien sighed, then stopped the engine, but stayed in his car. He couldn’t move. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to resist the urge to go inside and reassure Jordyn that he wasn’t mad at her, but the young man had already lost that battle. His legs moved before his mind, and he walked into his house. Carefully, he checked every room, hoping to see her, as her vanilla perfume lingered in the air, which brought back memories to the young man. His heart melted. He loved this perfume so much that he would always run back to the store to buy a new bottle when Jordyn finished hers.
Finally, the Frenchman opened the bedroom door and stopped in his tracks when he saw her sleeping on their…no, on his bed…on his side. The mess in the room didn’t bother him; all he wanted to do was hold Jordyn one last time, but he couldn’t. He walked towards the bed, trying not to wake her up.
Despite her sleeping form, he noticed the exhaustion in her face and wondered whether she was getting enough sleep. He also wanted to know how she was handling herself. Was she eating? Was she isolating herself? Was she excited to play tennis again? He remembered when she told him she wanted to quit, the tears on her cheeks, and the dreams she was leaving behind.
The young man was worried about her, but he couldn’t do anything. He tenderly kissed her forehead and whispered, “I love you. Good luck at your tournament. I’ll be watching all your matches and cheering for you every single time,” then backed off when he sensed her moving. Jordyn briefly opened her eyes before going back to slumber.
Aurélien froze and held his breath. She held his sleeve for a little longer before letting it go. Aurélien quietly exited the room, went back downstairs, and took his keys. This was too much for him. He needed to cool his mind. He drove around the city, to places he once loved going. Now, a shadow had cast itself over them. He couldn’t look at them and feel the same joy. His chest tightened as he thought about all the moments he shared with Jordyn. Memories of their laughter and their whispered promises resurfaced. The silent pain he had carried with him for far too long consumed him, as his grip on the steering wheel a little tighter. The mask he wore finally slipped and tears slid down his cheeks.
“Why do I still love you...” he muttered through shaky words. His love for Jordyn was a curse—a poison so strong he couldn’t escape it. She had always been his light, shining brighter than everything. The light he needed and craved in his life. His love for her was beyond imagination, something no one else could truly understand.
An hour later, she woke up, feeling out of place but somehow at ease. She sat on the bed and stared at the wall. Blurry fragments of what happened came back to her. Each piece of her memory fuelled the turmoil inside her, mirrored in the mess of the room, where old gifts, photos, and clothes were scattered on the floor. She couldn’t tell if the moment with Aurélien was reality but preferred to ignore it. She didn’t want to give herself false hope. Instead, she buried those thoughts, sealed everything, and got up off the bed. She needed to finish what she should have finished a while ago.
“If you hate me, I’ll understand… I also hate myself for everything I’ve done,” she whispered, regret filling her voice as she folded her clothes and placed them in her luggage.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Two days later…
It was a warm, balmy night in Stuttgart, tinged with the last glimmers of dusk—a perfect night to stay outside and enjoy the breeze as the first scent of spring floated in the air. Jordyn planned on training a little longer, then hanging out with the other players, but her coach crushed this idea when informing her that she had a press conference to do. She was annoyed about it because she hated it, especially this late in the day, but she assumed it must have been their only available time slot for her. And before she could react, Jordyn was sitting in front of about twenty journalists. All taking notes, recording her answers. Some of them interrupted her before she would start talking, but she tried to hide her annoyance.
“How do you feel about coming back to the court after two long years? And your first tournament being on the surface where you produced your best tennis?” Jordyn looked around to see who was talking among this sea of journalists without letting the lights in the room blind her.
“I feel good,” Jordyn replied nonchalantly, with a faint smile trying to conceal her excitement. After she announced her retirement, she wanted to try something new, but it never took off. Her love of tennis always remained strong, and this was the main reason she decided to come back. Also, they were about to start her favourite part of the season: the clay-court swing. When Jordyn was at the peak of her career, she had always excelled the most on that surface and produced better tennis than she did on the hard courts.
“I’m sure everyone still wonders why I retired so abruptly, so I feel like I owe an explanation. Two years ago, I was 23, ranked world number one, and at the height of my career. This title meant everything to me, especially at a young age. I achieved something that many women I admired had done before me, and it’s definitely an accomplishment worth celebrating. I was also surrounded by other incredible and talented players. However, as much as I love tennis, I slowly lost sight of who I was or what my ambitions were in the long term, and before I knew it, I hit the hardest wall since I became a professional. I didn’t feel like I belonged in this sport anymore,” she exhaled before continuing. Jordyn wasn’t the type of person to display vulnerability, but she hoped her words could help someone, whether they were in this room or watching this press conference.
“The imposter syndrome killed me. I refused to acknowledge it when the signs appeared because I always believed it would never happen to me. So, I kept pushing myself while being in complete denial. Sometimes people talk about trophies I’ve won and the things I have contributed to this sport. It was surreal to me that I won at Wimbledon or Roland Garros. It almost felt like they were someone else’s accomplishments, not mine. I felt like a fraud, and this mindset started affecting my performances and some of my relationships…” Jordyn paused for a moment.
“It wasn’t an easy decision, but I chose to walk off of the court to clear my head and overcome this feeling. During those two years, I learned a lot about myself and about appreciating the little things that life has to offer. Sometimes bridges collapse, and you can’t do anything about it. It will hurt, but something brighter always comes. And that’s my new mindset. I’m back on the court and ready to climb back up the ranks and claim the world number one spot again.” Her voice trembled at the end of her sentence, but she hoped no one caught that.
Jordyn’s eyes drifted to the clock at the back of the room. She couldn’t wait for the end of this press conference. She didn’t feel like hanging out anymore; she just wanted to return to her room and be alone with her thoughts once again. More journalists asked questions, but Jordyn answered them with less enthusiasm. She tried to ignore her shaky hands. She wanted to play. She dedicated her time, body, and soul for tennis. However, she couldn’t back down on this decision, and had to play. Her mind was somewhere else. She wondered if Aurélien was watching, just like he used to do.
Maybe I'm not ready for this new challenge. Maybe it's too soon...
I get what you're saying but is it wrong for us to say that we're afraid to get bombed. Just because it's never happened before to America doesn't mean it's impossible. I think we can show empathy and voice that, yes we're afraid. Especially since Iran said before Trump sent the missiles that if he got involved that it would be a war essentially and now they just said on their news to trump, "you started it and we'll finish it"
like i said in my original post, i get being scared and my original post was more so reacting to the people on twitter complaining about fearing for their lives and complaining about how gas prices are about to go up etc. and i'm like PEOPLE ARE GETTING BOMBED WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT AMERICAN GAS PRICES GOING UP like i'm so sorry that people in iran being bombed inconveniences your gas prices and stuff
also iran has stated that they will be attacking US military ships and bases if they choose to respond, not by targeting people on american soil so i don't think americans should be deathly afraid what will happen to them(of course idk if iran will attack US soil and that's why in my original post i said that a lot of americans are more afraid of hypothetical bombs than having empathy for the bombs falling on innocent middle easterners RIGHT NOW)
last point, with the US bombing iranian nuclear facilities that ensures that iran(with it's already limited nuclear capacity) won't have the man power and weapons to launch a full fledged military attack on america which will ensure that americans(in america) will likely never come within a mile of a bomb
it's a tale as old as time, set up military bases in a foreign country and terrorise them in the name of "saving them from themselves", the country retaliates then further bomb them to ensure they never get strong enough to take you on
summary: a scenario per love language for each of my (and hopefully, now your) favourite boys!
pairings: cade cunningham, devin booker, jalen duren, jordan poole, and ja morant x blackfem!reader
warnings: mentions of smut (18+), some descriptions of reader, not proofread!
notes: happy (very) late valentine's day !!! i loveeeeee my basketball boyfriends 🤗🤗🤗 i might turn a couple of these into actual fics, i got so carried away w the ideas lolllll. also i fear ja was a placeholder i didn't know who else to do 🕊️
words of affirmation, jordan poole . . . Jordan loved to hear your voice. It was really that simple. You could be telling him about your day or the most random fact that you learnt and he'd be there, listening just because he loved the way you sounded.
There wasn't even anything sexual behind it, he was just obsessed with you. So it wasn't a surprise when he realised he enjoyed hearing you tell him how well you thought he played or how proud you were of him.
To him, words of affirmation were different to being praised. There was more to it than just words and the weight they carried. Whenever you'd give him a compliment on something that could be so minuscule to others, it lifted his mood.
"You look good today," or "I liked what you did with your hair" or "Keep the goatee, it suits you." Anything coming from you? It meant so much more.
In the same way he loved to use his words with you. Jordan was a very attentive man, and with that came the ability to articulate himself quite well.
It was more than just complimenting you. With Jordan, it was about making sure you really leant in to his words when he spoke, understanding the meaning behind them.
The way he made sure to acknowledge you going out of your way to do something for him, even if it was as simple as putting his towel in the dryer before he finished his shower, or the way he made sure to lift you up after you'd stepped out of your comfort zone for something with a simple "You did real good, baby. I'm prouda you."
And then there was the way he showed you he loved you with words, like when he'd come back from a couple of away games with a few things because they reminded him of you.
"I saw this and thought of you," he'd smile, watching you excitingly open a small pouch of trinkets and charms for your bracelet.
And he loved to leave you notes. On the fridge because he knew you'd look there in the morning if he didn't get a chance to say goodbye to you before he left, or on the bedside table on your side of the bed, or if he had to, softly pressing them right on your forehead. And you would save every single one.
quality time, devin booker . . . Devin wasn't too much of a going out person. Sure he loved the occasional trip here and there but he'd much rather do something that didn't involve leaving his area of comfort.
But when he met you, that all started to change.
Devin quickly learnt that spending time with you was one of his favourite things to do. He didn't care what you were doing, as long as he was with you he'd be having a good time.
You'd suggest different activities every now and then, like pottery painting. And lucky for you both there was a couple places in Phoenix to go to.
You opted for the 'make your own creation' option instead of painting a pre-made object, which really brought out the competition in your relationship.
"How'd you do that?" Devin would ask with a frown, glancing at the bowl you moulded and the slop of clay in front of him.
"It's not that hard, Dev."
"Wait, why you rushing? Help me, please."
It could be a walk in the park, shopping, trying new foods, visiting new countries together... he wanted to do it all with you.
Your favourite thing about Devin was his willingness to do whatever with you. You'd be getting ready, for example, sat at the vanity in your large, walk in closet. In he'd come with Haven right by his feet, sitting himself down on the beanbag next to you.
He wouldn't say much, didn't have to. Just watched you work your craft as he occasionally scrolled through his phone, enjoying being in your presence and the music playing around you both.
"I don't feel like using foundation today," you'd mumble after a few moments. "What do you think?"
"It's your world, do whatever baby."
"That's cute, but it doesn't help me."
Just by being around you Devin felt like he was complete, and you felt the same. That's why whenever anyone around you joked about the two of you being in your own bubble all the time, you'd just smile, sharing a glance that read the same expression.
receiving / giving gifts, ja morant . . . There's no doubt about it that Ja loves to spoil you. It was hard to do at first; you refused to let him buy you anything, not wanting to look like you were just with him for his materialistic advantages.
He didn't care about any of that though. In fact, he was quick to learn that it was your reaction to his thoughts behind the gifts that made him love giving them to you.
You'd open your purse to find a random amount of stacks in there, sending him a text saying you don't need his money to which he reacts with a thumbs down emoji only.
Or when he'd wake you up, kissing all over your face and saying, "Bought a couple things for you," before carrying out of bed downstairs, where you'd find a couple bags from your favourite places.
It didn't even have to be a special occasion for him to spoil you, he just wanted to keep seeing that smile on your face.
Eventually you grew into it, accepting that Ja wasn't going to take no for an answer when it came to how he spent his money, even if it was on you.
As for receiving gifts, he hated when you spent your own money on them. It was always "Nah, ma, you keep your money, I'm good," when you did it but if you used those words on him? He'd have a frown so deep on his face not even a thousand kisses would make up for it.
acts of service, cade cunningham . . . Cade's attentiveness to your needs was off the charts. He was always ready to be at your beck and call, though you never needed him to be.
Your car needs some gas? He's already putting it in for you. Long week at work? Spa day booked on the weekend.
He was a big advocate for actions speak louder than words, and everything he did let you know exactly that.
He rarely let you take on tasks by yourself, even if you insisted you'd be fine. Like sure, opening your packages is now a two person job, as is boiling pasta!
Cade saw it as him doing his bit, helping you with the things he knew you liked least, making you a hot drink when you were busy with any work, even doing things you literally didn't mention out loud, he just knew you that well.
You'd bring it up sometimes, how helpful he always was when it came to you. And he'd just shrug, pulling you closer into his side as he kisses your forehead. "I gotta take care of you, don't I?"
physical touch, jalen duren . . . Considering his height and size advantage, Jalen was usually the one initiating physical contact.
He had to be touching you in some way at all times. Being quote a private person, he wasn't big on PDA, and you were both still learning about each other in your relationship. But later down the line, he'd literally start to bug out if you were near him but he couldn't be touching on you in any way.
Whether it's simply holding your hand, your legs over his lap, his hand in the back pocket of your jeans (or whatever he could fit in there), or his arms around your shoulders whilst you're stood in front of him, Jalen just loves knowing you're there.
His favourite thing to do was lay on you, and for you it meant bearing the weight of a 6'10, two hundred and something pound man. He found it comforting resting his head on your chest, his arms wrapped around you as he lay in between your legs whilst you held him.
Your favourite thing about Jalen and his inability to be in your vicinity without touching you was how he acted when it came to being sat. For example, at a dinner Cade was hosting at his house, you'd made both yours and Jalen's plates, heading outside to the backyard to find him.
He was sat on one of those large outdoor sofas with Ron, Ausar and a couple others scattered around them.
He noticed you as soon as you walked through the doors, throwing a smile as you walked his way. But before you could take a seat in the spot next to him, he took one of the plates from your hands, guiding you into his lap.
There wasn't much room for discussion, he just let his arm rest around your waist, your back leaning on the arm of the chair as you sat sideways in his lap.
"There's plenty of space next to you, you know," you'd tease, knowing fully well you loved sitting in his lap.
"They said being sat in your boyfriend's lap is good for the heart. Adds 20 years to your life each time you do it or sum."
Jalen didn't know what personal space was when it came to you, especially when you two were alone. You're at the stove making dinner? He's all up on you, hugging you from behind, kissing your neck... anything but helping.
You're sat down on the sofa doing some work? Put that laptop away because he's right next to you, pulling your legs onto his thighs, massaging you into a daze trying to butter you up for some attention.
You wouldn't have it any other way, you loved how obsessed with you he was.
Andrew Nembhard fluff. Andrew being extremely clingy with reader. never wants to leave her side.
at the hip
an andrew nembhard fic
summary ~ as stated in request !
includes ~ clingy andrew // doctor reader // fluff!
a/n ~ wanted to just write something cute, it’s been a bit!
————————————————————————
Andrew had always been the quiet one. Steady. Reliable. The guy who showed up early to shootaround, said what needed to be said, and then went back to work. He didn’t need the spotlight, didn’t chase clout, didn’t fill silence with noise.
But with you?
He turned into the clingiest person alive.
It started small.
The first time you stayed over at his place after a game, he woke up before you and just… stayed. Arm slung over your waist, face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing slow and even like he was trying to memorize the rhythm of your heartbeat. When you finally stirred and tried to slip out of bed to pee, he tightened his grip, mumbling into your skin,
“Nope. Five more minutes.”
You laughed. “I’ll be right back.”
“Five more minutes,” he repeated, voice thick with sleep, pulling you flush against his chest until your back was molded to him. “You smell good. Stay.”
You ended up staying twenty more minutes because he kept pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder every time you tried to move, murmuring things like “you’re warm” and “I like you here” until you gave up and melted back into him.
That became the pattern.
After games—win or lose—he’d find you in the tunnel or the family section, wrap both arms around your waist from behind, and drop his chin on your shoulder like a human weighted blanket.
“Missed you,” he’d say, even though you’d literally seen each other that morning.
You’d tease him. “You were gone for three hours.”
“Longest three hours of my life.”
On road trips, he’d facetime you every night—no matter how late the game ran or how tired he was. He’d prop the phone on the hotel nightstand, lie on his stomach, chin in his hands, and just stare at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.
“Tell me about your day,” he’d say, even when his eyes were half-closed.
You’d ramble about work, about the patient who wouldn’t stop flirting with you at the clinic, about the new coffee spot you tried. He’d listen. Nod. Occasionally interrupt with “I miss your voice” or “come cuddle me through the phone.”
When he was home, he was glued to you.
Cooking dinner? He’d stand behind you at the stove, arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder, swaying gently like you were slow-dancing to whatever playlist was on.
Watching TV? He’d pull you into his lap, tuck your head under his chin, and wrap both arms around you like a koala.
Running errands? He’d hold your hand the entire time—grocery store, post office, dry cleaners—like letting go might make you disappear.
One Sunday afternoon you tried to get some work done at the kitchen table. He walked in wearing nothing but basketball shorts, saw you focused on your laptop, and immediately slid into the chair behind you.
Arms around your waist.
Chin on your shoulder.
Legs bracketing yours.
You laughed. “I’m trying to work.”
“I’m helping.”
“You’re distracting.”
“I’m supporting.”
You tried to type. His hands started wandering—slow, absentminded strokes up your sides, under your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts.
“Drew.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re not helping.”
He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck. “I’m keeping you company.”
You sighed—half exasperated, half melting.
“You’re so clingy.”
He nuzzled closer. “Only with you.”
You gave up on work ten minutes later.
He pulled you onto his lap, turned your chair so you were facing him, and kissed you slow—lazy, deep, hands sliding under your shirt to trace your spine.
“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. “Like… stupid amounts.”
You smiled. “I know.”
“No, like… can’t breathe when you’re not around. Can’t sleep. Can’t focus. I’m obsessed with you.”
You cupped his face. “I’m right here.”
“Stay here,” he said, almost pleading. “Don’t ever leave.”
