could you write a fic for raphinha please, maybe reader going to one of his matches and celebrating a win with him and his teammates on the pitch (maybe she plays with some of his teammate’s kids and he looks at her softly)
pra sempre
pairing: raphinha x reader
summary: in which you celebrate with raphinha after a match
warnings: none!
the stadium lights beamed down like stars brought to earth. you stood just behind the team’s bench, the final minutes ticking down, your heart pounding louder than the crowd’s chants. raphinha was everywhere on the pitch — darting, weaving, that signature rhythm in his feet like the ball belonged to him and only him.
you’d seen him play dozens of times, but it never stopped feeling new. the way he moved like he was dancing. the way he grinned when a play went his way. the way he always glanced toward the stands like he needed to know you were there, watching him, grounding him.
and you always were.
the whistle blew. barça had won — 3–1 — and the stadium went wild. you clapped, beaming, your voice already hoarse from cheering. players embraced, coaches high-fived, and someone threw their hands in the air in disbelief. raphinha dropped to his knees briefly, smiling up at the sky before getting pulled into a hug by lewandowski.
you waited by the edge of the pitch, eyes searching, and when his found yours — even from across the chaos — he lit up.
he jogged over, his jersey stuck to his back with sweat, curls bouncing slightly with every step. before he reached you, a couple of his teammates’ kids came tumbling onto the pitch, kicking little balls and giggling like it was their own world. one of the tiny boys tripped and nearly face-planted, and you rushed forward to help him up.
"hey, buddy, you okay?" you laughed, brushing grass off his knees.
he nodded with wide eyes, already forgetting the fall, and tossed you a soft ball. you grinned, kicking it gently back. in seconds, two more kids joined, forming a chaotic, joyful mini-match with you in the middle — barefoot now, because heels were a nightmare on the grass.
raphinha stopped a few feet away, watching. his chest rose and fell with each breath, but his face was still. peaceful.
he watched you play with the kids — the way you laughed without holding back, the way your eyes crinkled when one of them told a joke in messy spanish. he watched one of the girls cling to your leg like she’d known you her whole life. he’d seen you like this before — playful, gentle, shining — but something about tonight, under these lights, after this match… it hit different.
“she’s gonna make you soft, mano,” araújo teased, clapping him on the back as he passed.
raphinha didn’t flinch. “i already am.”
when you finally noticed him, standing there with his hands on his hips and that soft, crooked smile, your face lit up.
you jogged over, barefoot and breathless. “you were unreal out there.”
he tugged you in close, forehead against yours. “you were unreal right here.”
you laughed, cheeks warm. “i was just babysitting.”
“nah,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek. “you were showing me what our future looks like.”
your heart did a little somersault. the noise of the stadium faded, the crowd, the cameras — it all blurred. all you felt was his touch, his eyes, his words sinking into your chest like they’d always belonged there.
the kids came running over again, one of them pulling at your hand, asking if you’d play one more round.
you looked up at him, smiling. “come join us?”
he shook his head, grinning. “nah, i’m good just watching you.”
you turned away before he could see the way your eyes shimmered. he did, though. he always did.
and when he finally walked back to the locker room, hand in yours, your heels dangling from your fingers and grass stains on your knees, it felt like the kind of night you'd remember forever — not just because of the win.
but because of him.
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