camila. xviii. entp. gryffindor. november scorpio.
fc barcelona, williams, max verstappen, carlos sainz, pedri, olivia dean, drew starkey, sabrina carpenter, joe keery, sofia coppola, marc marquez, aphrodite, pink, slushynoobz, orochinho, law&order, lana del rey, candice swanepoel, chet baker.
so utterly disgusted by ferran torres supporting vito quiles.
vito quiles openly offended lamine yamal and nico williams for he did not believe they deserve to be a part of the spanish national team. mind you quiles is son of an immigrant, but apparently it’s okay as long as it’s a white immigrant.
vito quiles is openly friends with a neo nazi. his security is a neo nazi.
this is the type of bullshit he’s openly supporting instead of his own teammates and african immigrant stepfather.
btw if anyone comes at me for my repost about Ferran with his cap being dumb with 'ew you call yourself a Ferran fan' I'm sorry for standing in for my morals lmfao I could take a bullet for you and still judge you for your political opinion
not saying Ferran is definitely a maga supporter or from the Spanish far right, this could still be a joke or 'satire' (which I still think is dumb because without clarifying that it's a joke you're just presenting a wrong picture of yourself and supporting bullshit but hey) but that's a white, rich, privileged footballer who probably doesn't care about politics because he's in a position where he 'doesn't have to', so. it's not that I'm disappointed because they're always men but I'm not gonna sit here and pretend it's funny even though I'm a huge huge Ferran fan and we do know he's got his heart in the right place in many areas
all the different moments of celebrating the world cup with ferran!!
you sat in the stands with his family, your hands wrapped tightly around your lucky necklace your boyfriend, ferran, had given you.
you silently pray, hope, for some more action from spain, the long lasting 0-0 making your heart pound a little more every second.
then before you can even process what’s happening, pedro porro makes a perfect pass to nico, that ends up ricocheting to ferran, who then kicks it perfectly and heavily into the net, leaving the argentinian golie on the floor.
you jump, you scream, you hug his sister, then his mom, and you feel his fathers hand rubbing your back, all of you with tears in your eyes, seeing ferran happily, even shocked with himself, destroying the corner flag, quickly swarmed by his teammates.
your eyes meet briefly and the look on his face immediately softens when he sees your shoulders shake with tiny sobs behind your proudest smile, throat already sore from screaming so much.
the game continues, intense, fiery and, most of all, dominated by spain, by your boyfriend. and when the final whistle blows, it’s like wind was knocked out of your lungs, for a second you even go dizzy with the atmosphere around you.
you chant with the rest of the spaniards, one arm draped around his sister, the other up in the air.
grabbing your phone, you make sure to take a picture of your boyfriend sitting on the edge of the little stage, kissing the most important trophy in the world that he earned.
family are then allowed down to the field. you follow behind his, letting them hug him first, letting them have their moment and taking a few pictures ferran would definitely get emotional at later.
ferran gives his last hug before you’re the only one left to have a moment with him, and the second he opens his arms you jump into them, tears rushing down your cheeks.
“fer, god- i couldn’t be prouder, i knew you would do it, te amo, te amo muchísimo” you hug his neck, legs at his sides, supported by one of his hands while the other rests on your hair, kissing the side of your head, your shoulder, anything he could get his lips on, in the sweetest way possible.
“i know, i couldn’t have done it without you.” he smiles charmingly, always trying to push himself down humbly.
“ferran, you did this. you earned this. you kept your head high even though everyone was pushing it down. give yourself some credit for once, please.”
“no, i know, but you’re the one who stood by my side, celebrated my goals and made me brownies when i lost so i’d feel better. you’re the only one who manages to get me out of my head when im eating myself alive. i wouldn’t even be in this field right now if it weren’t for your patience.” he admits, cupping your cheek, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“well i’m really happy you are…” you sniffle, finally landing your lips on his in an emotion heavy kiss, both of you demonstrating what words couldn’t say.
you pull away, brushing his messy, sweaty hair off his face with a chuckle, not a teasing one, a heartfelt one, unbelieving of the situation, admiring him.
“i love you so much, fer, im so proud of you.”
“i know, amor, i love you too, more than any trophy.”
“no, you definitely love this trophy more than me, and honestly, i don’t blame you.” you shrug with a smile, finally having your feet on the ground.
he laughs in response, pressing a fat kiss to your temple, cupping your face with one hand, his thumb and pointer pressing deep on either one of your cheeks, pulling you to take pictures with the heavy golden award, laughing when you couldn’t hold it up properly.
ferran couldn’t be happier right there, and neither could you.
bonus!!
you let ferran celebrate with his teammates freely, promising you’d take care of him so he could drink as much as he wanted to.
soon enough you get a call from markus from ferran’s phone, telling you he needs you to come get him.
giggling to yourself, you get to where the players where, seeing the other wags in not so different situations.
“amor! pedri kissed me on the cheek! i told him i have a girlfriend but he didn’t listen…” ferran slurred, shaking his head.
“it’s okay, bebé, you’ve kissed his cheek too.” you laugh.
“what? am i a cheater?” he gasps, getting up as you pull him.
“no, fer, everything is okay.” you sling one of his arms around your shoulder, practically carrying him up to your shared hotel bedroom.
he immediately collapses on the bed, sighing happily.
“here, water.” you rub his back so he’d get up, only earning a groan in response. “vamos, fer, you have to take a shower still.”
ferran only flips, his back now against the bed, his lazy smile growing at the sight of you.
“qué pasó?” you ask, attentive to see if he felt like throwing up, ferran was always the weak type.
“did i tell you i love you?” he slurs.
“yeah, a couple times today” you smile back at him, giggling, taking off the ridiculous sunglasses he wore messily on his rebel hair.
“bueno, te amo, te amo más que todo” ferran says with conviction, followed by a hiccup.
“i know, fer, i love you too” you kiss his nose, making him let out a half hum, half giggle. “now let’s drink our water, yeah?” he finally agrees, lifting himself up by his elbows to drink up.
that sobers him up enough to get him in the shower, washing off the festivities.
the two of you collapse on the bed, cozy beneath the covers, probably only a few minutes away from sunrise.
bonus two!!
you wake up with ferran’s dramatic groaning beside you.
“buenos dias, campeón” you smile, kissing his shoulder.
“hmm, hey, i appreciate you letting me celebrate, but don’t let me ever do that again” he slides on hand onto his head, rubbing it as his eyes shut tightly.
you only giggle in response, pointing at his filled water bottle and meds on his bedside table, already having prepared for this outcome.
“i don’t know if it’s my migraine but you’re looking a lot like an angel to me right now” he smirks, kissing your cheek in thankfulness.
you snort, patting his chest before getting up, stretching before walking to the bathroom.
“woah, hold on a second…” ferran’s voice drops a tone at the sight of you in practically nothing but his shirt, the FERRAN and the number seven practically glowing on your back.
“what?” your boyfriend’s lazy smirk guides you back into bed, crawling towards him. “what?” you ask again with a laugh.
“i’ve been cured.” he states, attacking your neck, laying you down, laying over you, holding his weight up on one of his elbows and one of his hands, making all his muscles pop.
your kisses keep going naturally, hands gliding over each other, tongues curling against the other.
“jesus- why wasn’t i celebrating all last night with you” he groans, earning a giggle from you, who quickly shut up when his hands wandered under his shirt you wore.
i’m so so so proud of him 🥹🥹🥹 so happy for spainnnnn!!!! hope he celebrates all he deserves 🦈🦈
