seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Morocco
seen from Morocco
seen from Morocco
seen from Germany
seen from Canada
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Italy
seen from Senegal
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seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
https://www.tumblr.com/dixheuresdix/821221015404281856/could-i-request-a-fluff-fic-for-diego-moreira
uhmm maybe something like he comes home w his hair done? like he re-did his twists? or something else that you like !
HMM... MID;
⤷ ゛masterlist ˎˊ˗
diego moreira x f!reader.
dating.
note: thanks for ur req bb
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: he came back home with his braids done thinking you'll love it but hmm... mid.
THATS DADAAAAAAAAA omg the forearms and biceps
This is giving "One way or another" by One Direction (music video) 😭😭
home — # diego moreira
synopsis — a soft rest day with diego
based on this request @i2pod
# warnings: none just pureeee fluff
# mia’s note: i am sooo sorry it took so long but i really hope i did your request justice. i loved writing it. thank you so much for requesting it (and i absolutely loooove your writing as well). with sooo much love, mia.
masterlist
the apartment was unusually quiet. not because it was empty, but because diego had insisted that today be a day where nothing happened.
no training videos. no interviews playing in the background. no laundry. no grocery runs. no phones unless someone was dying.
“a rest day means resting,” he’d declared that morning with a seriousness usually reserved for tactical meetings.
you had laughed. but now, hours later, you were beginning to realize he had meant every word.
you found him sprawled across the couch, one arm lazily draped over his eyes while the other reached out blindly the moment he heard your footsteps.
“there you are.”
“i went to get water.”
“you were gone for at least two minutes.”
“it was thirty seconds.”
“felt like two.”
you rolled your eyes with a smile, slipping your hand into his. he immediately tugged until you stumbled onto his lap.
“no escaping.”
“i literally came back.”
“but now you’re here.”
his voice was still raspy from sleep, warm enough to make you melt before he even leaned over to kiss your forehead.
diego wasn’t usually clingy. at least not in public.
to everyone else he was composed, polite, focused. cameras always caught the calm smiles, the confident interviews, the way he carried himself with effortless professionalism.
at home, he became something entirely different.
he loved touching you.
nothing dramatic. just little things.
your knees pressed together while watching movies. your fingers intertwined while cooking. his chin resting on your shoulder while you brushed your teeth.
if he walked past you, his hand would automatically graze your back as though checking you were still there.
it was instinct.
today was no exception.
he absentmindedly traced circles over the back of your hand while the two of you watched rain collect against the windows.
“you know,” you said quietly, “you’re very affectionate for someone who pretends to be all cool.”
“I am cool.”
“you asked me to rate different kinds of bread yesterday.”
“it was important.”
“it wasn’t.”
“it absolutely was.”
the conversation dissolved into laughter until neither of you remembered what you had been debating in the first place.
silence settled again. comfortable silence. the kind that never felt awkward.
outside, rain tapped softly against the glass.
inside, diego shifted closer until your shoulder rested against his chest.
“you smell nice.”
“it’s shampoo.”
“still nice.”
“you’ve said that three times today.”
“i know.”
“you planning on saying it again?”
“probably.”
you smiled into his hoodie.
his heartbeat was slow. steady. there was something grounding about listening to it.
maybe he noticed you relaxing because he wrapped both arms around you without another word.
“you okay, pretty girl?” he asked.
“mhm.”
“tired?”
“a little.”
“you’ve been doing too much.”
“so have you.”
“that’s why we’re fixing it.”
you looked up at him.
“by lying on the couch?”
“exactly.”
“very advanced recovery technique.”
“the best.”
his thumb brushed your cheek. “you always think everything has to be productive.”
“i don’t.”
“you apologized to me for taking a nap last week.”
“maybe.”
“you apologized. you never have to earn resting.”
you stared at him. he wasn’t saying it to sound wise. he genuinely believed it.
it was funny how someone whose job demanded constant discipline could be the first person to remind you to slow down.
“you know,” he murmured, “i like this version of you.”
“what version?”
“the one that’s not rushing somewhere.”
“i rush?”
“you walk fast.”
“i do not.”
“you nearly leave me behind every time we’re in the airport.”
“because you stop to look at everything.”
“there are interesting things.”
“there was a luggage carousel.”
“it was rotating.”
you smiled despite your efforts not to. you had to hide your face against him
“there you are.” he smiled so softly it almost hurt to look at. “i’ve missed it.”
“you saw me this morning.”
“i know.”
“i smiled this morning.”
“i still missed it.”
you reached up and gently brushed your thumb against his cheek. “you make absolutely no sense.”
“i’ve never claimed to.”
he leaned forward just enough for your foreheads to touch.
for a long moment neither of you spoke. the rain continued outside. cars passed somewhere in the distance. the room smelled faintly of coffee from earlier that morning.
everything felt safe.
“i have training tomorrow,” he whispered eventually.
“i know.”
“i’ll probably complain.”
“i know.”
“you’ll tell me to stop.”
“i know.”
he smiled. “i like that you know.”
“and after training?”
“i’m coming straight home.”
“no detours?”
“no detours.”
“you promise?”
he kissed the tip of your nose, and then lowered to softly kiss your lips. “i always come back to you.”
your heart squeezed.
you wrapped your arms around him again, and he held you just a little tighter.
no cameras. no stadium lights. no pressure.
just the sound of rain, a warm couch, and the quiet certainty that home wasn’t a place anymore.
it was whoever was holding your hand.
@ moulinrougemo
Im going to start a rumour because HELLO???
what if i said that’s how he looks after he fin[crashes car]
my shaylas 😭
Beautiful beautiful moto 2 podium
