their own thing ────── brahim tries knocking some sense into you.
⌗ pairing : federico valverde x reader
⌗ tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. reader is friends with brahim—dare i say, they're best friends. NOT PROOFREAD ignore any grammatical errors!!!!
⌗ wordcount : 880
⌗ notes : something for good luck for tonight's match!! good luck bous i love you all but i love you most valverde <3 title and quote from gracie abram's in between, this fic is also based on the song!! ♡ masterlist.
“Do it!”
“No!”
Brahim groans, letting his body fall back into the cushion as you snuggle your back comfortable on the other side of the couch.
Let’s just say that the two of you have had too much to drink that night, celebrating a particularly tough win, are a little bit tipsy, and fully laughing at whatever stupid shit the other decides to bring up.
And of course, the topic of you and Valverde—Federico, as you and Brahim both address him—comes into your conversation.
Because, how can he not be the hot topic around?
Brahim is proud of himself, often can be found boasting about how perfect the two of you seem together. He saw the vision—the invisible red string connecting you and Federico from one ring finger to the other. He was, naturally, the one to set up the simple three-people brunch, cancelling his half at the last minute; he was also the one encouraging Federico to send you a text after, and the one who urged you to delete all those stupid dating apps filled with men barely over their previous lover.
And though you kind of—kind of—are grateful for Brahim’s involvement in trying to brighten up your stagnant love life, it can be embarrassing for you. You definitely do not appreciate it most times. Maybe because you and Federico are technically not together yet.
It doesn’t even feel like anything.
You’ve got a huge, fat, heavy crush on Real Madrid’s midfielder, and you aren’t even sure if he likes you back.
Brahim thinks you’re an idiot—but, really, when has he not thought that you’re an idiot?
“Okay,” he fishes his phone out of his left pocket. “I’ll give him a call, and” —
“No!” You jump—attempt to, at least—out to Brahim, but he raises his hand so that you can’t reach to snatch the phone away from his hand.
— “you’ll see! And you’ll see what I’m saying!”
You flop back to your previous position, rolling your eyes as a hiccup escapes your lips, your eyes travelling to the other side of the room.
There Federico is, laughing amongst people you mostly don’t know, looking more handsome under the dim lighting of the pub than you have ever seen him, his hair still tainted in white after dying them a few months back for winning the Champions League. Maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, trying to compel your mind into braving yourself to step into his vicinity and sweep him away, but once you look at him, you cannot look away.
Just as Brahim lets out a laugh, you can see Federico feeling his phone vibrate on the island. He turns it over to see who is calling, and presses on the mute button, placing it back on the cold surface.
“Dick,” Brahim elbows your torso and you try wiggling away from him. “Your turn.”
“This is stupid,” you mutter, this time fishing out your phone with a groan. You watch Federico, your vision blurring as you chug down the shot on the floor table before you.
Clicking on his name on your contact list, you see him visibly sighing, and you bite your lower lip. He follows the same step as he did: flipping the phone over, and scanning the name of this caller.
This time, his eyes widened. You see his back straightening, his shoulder broadening, and his throat clearing. He excuses himself from the seemingly important conversation, places one hand inside of his jacket before taking the call.
Brahim’s elbow digs into your torso as his giggles turn diabolical—you raise a foot to kick his knee away from him. The heat rises, then, from the warmth of the tonic in your stomach, up to your chest, then spreading to your neck and ears and face.
“Hey,” Federico’s voice reaches over to you—you see him looking around the room, scanning the crowd for you. When he sees you, he sends you a sweet smile, his crow feet digging deep into his skin.
He looks so gentle, so sweet. Like his smile could take away any pain simmering down on your life.
“Oh, Federico,” you shoot an attempt at not stammering. “Sorry— I was about to call my mom, clicked on your name by mistake.”
Brahim clutches his knee, and then his stomach, before rolling from the couch to the floor, giggling to the back of his hand.
“Are you leaving already?”
His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you answer with a hiccup. Federico maintains eye contact, as though not aware that Brahim is on the floor, dying with laughter when he proves his own theory right once again.
“Need a ride home?”
“No,” you shake your head, sighing in embarrassment, shooting back a shy smile.
“I didn’t drink,” he glances back at the group of people he was talking to. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
You are the first to break the held gaze, glancing down at Brahim before lightly kicking the small of his back. Brahim turns to you, his eyes glazed with tears from laughing too much at his victory.
“If you insist…”
You take a deep breath, blowing it out softly before glancing back up, meeting his eyes exactly where they were when you left them.
Hiii!Can you write some fluff featuring Fede Valverde? Maybe when it's like reader and fede's anniversary (or something like that) and he surprises reader with something! (Idk what)
(Sorry for not really explaining my idea better <3)
Btw I love your writing!!!♡
love is fast asleep ────── no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft.
♡ ────── pairing : federico valverde x reader
♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. pre-established relationship with fede, cute banters, fede is in looooove with reader omfg
♡ ────── wordcount : 1,232
♡ ────── notes : i've been waiting for someone to request fede omfg he's sooo cute! and thank you so much, hope you enjoy this one, anon!! this is lightly based on noah kahan's strawberry wine, that song is so sweet and i feel like it describes him so much. sorry that this took so long, i was trying to think of what kind of surprise he would give reader. posted this just in time as my timeline fills with captain fede <333 ♡ masterlist.
Federico has got to admit that he is not usually one to simmer in hesitance.
You don’t get to where he is, after all, with self-doubt. You need strength, perseverance, confidence. Not everything that he has in life has been handed to him, but everything that he has in his life has been within his rights. He deserves everything that he has. He believes this.
Not everything that he has in life has been handed to him—yes, not everything. You, however, seem to be an exception. He can trace back all his accomplishments with his finger—the cause and reaction of every single goal he delivered, every single lap he ran, the contracts he signed—but not you.
No, no.
You were handed to him, by some invisible hands, strung along with destiny that had led you to where he is.
His hands grip his steering wheel.
The moon is particularly bright tonight—on the car stereo, softly hums the love songs he carefully curated over the years, the ones you would mention that your parents would play as a child. Nostalgia is the best sort of romance; old school is where he bets his money at.
“Are we there yet?”
Federico didn’t make you put on a blindfold, but as he opens the door of the car and holds your hand as you step in, he insists that you have to close your eyes the moment he says so. He trusts you that you would keep your eyes closed. He trusts you enough.
“Close,” he says, glancing at you to drink in the way the moonshine reflects on the features of your face, and grins to himself, his face muscles aching in excitement.
It’s been three years since a mutual friend introduced the two of you, and two years since you got together—even so, Federico feels as though you’ve known him for all his life, as though you watched him grow up into his football jersey, into the man that he is.
Though at once, sometimes he wishes that he had met you sooner. You love him for all his scars and brittle parts, he is aware, but part of him figures that you would enjoy getting to know him when he was far gentler too.
You hum along to the melody of the song decorating the silence in the car. “You’ve been saying close for the past 30 minutes—I’m beginning to think that this is a kidnapping scheme, Federico.”
“Thirty minutes?” He repeats with a laugh, the car slowing down into a stop as he parks on a spot he had scouted for in the previous days. The moon slowly rises, and for a moment, Federico drinks in the sight of the kind crashing waves on the beach below them. “Only two songs have passed since you asked me the first time.”
“We stopped,” you ignored his response, eyes still shut. You press your palm against the dashboard, suddenly tense. “We’re here?”
“We’re here,” he laughs, “calm down, tiger. I’ll come and get you.”
The car keys lay flat in his pocket as he closes the car door behind him, walking over to your side.
“I smell salt,” you say the moment the sea air hits your nose as you extend a hand for Federico to gently grab. “And I hear water.”
“Aren’t you the smart one?” He chuckles, leading you out the car, for a moment placing his lips on top of yours as he shuts the car door.
You kiss him back, your other hand on the soft stubbles on his jaw. “Beach?” You ask.
He nods, as though you can see him, and places his forehead against yours. “Beach.”
Despite the way he longs to stay in that position, Federico eventually moves away, shifting his hand so that his fingers would intertwine with yours. He leads you to where the top of a short flight of stairs is carved out of natural stone and turns.
“Come on, darling,” he whispers, his grip around your hand tightening. “You’re closing your eyes, right? You gotta keep ‘em close.”
“Yes, baby,” you laugh, and for the thousandth time since he met you, he feels knots in his stomach.
He carefully leads you down the stairs, whispering encouraging words.
“Almost there,” he looks behind him for a moment, “aaand, there we go, the last bit of stairs.”
Excitement rushes up his spine as you try to balance your stance on the sandy ground, his stomach churning in nervousness.
“Baby,” he calls out, suddenly.
“Hm?” You tilt your head, looking at the direction you think his voice is coming from and he chuckles at how slightly off you are, tilting your head with his thumb on your chin.
“Listen,” he says, “don’t open your eyes.”
“Fede,” you whine, hands reaching to feel his forearms.
“I know, I know,” he laughs, leaning down to kiss your lips, then your forehead. “I just…” He blows out a breath, “...oh, I’m nervous.”
“Why?”
He smiles at your furrowed eyebrow, your hands cupping his face.
“I don’t know,” he admits, not letting his nervousness shine through his words. He closes his eyes, bracing himself. “Alright, you ready?”
“When have I not been?” You jest, drawing out a laugh from him.
He touches the hand on his cheek. “Alright,” he says, as though trying to convince himself. “Open your eyes.”
Federico blows out another breath, stepping back and away from you as your eyes flutter open, taking in the scenery before you. A picnic blanket on the sand, far enough from the shoreline to be weighted comfortably with four pieces of round rocks on each corner. He thought about the lighting, mulled over it, but the moon ended up enough candlelight for the both of you. In the middle of the blanket is a large picnic basket—inside, Federico has compiled his favourite food, your favourite food, and a good bottle of wine.
You gasp, hands on your chest, and while you are taking it in, Federico rocks on his feet, his palms are getting sweaty so he has been rubbing them dry against his pants for the past few seconds or so you’ve opened your eyes.
You look back at him, eyes watering, for some reason neither you or him knows.
“H-how?” You stammer, and Federico steps closer, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks.
“Why are you crying, baby?” Panic begins to fester in the pit of his stomach, “a friend helped me— baby, are you okay?”
You shake your head, laughing, and as you laugh, “No— no, no… I just love you…”
Federico pauses.
“...so much. Did you know that?”
“Oh,” he murmurs, hugging your head into his chest, “my love. It’s just a picnic, darling. We’ve done this a billion times, haven’t we?”
The corner of his eyes begin to blur, and he strokes the back of your head, this time rocking the both of you.
“This is different,” you sob against him, “two years, dear god, we’ve come a long way haven’t we?”
Federico rests the side of his head on top of yours, the harsh evening wind acting like it can carry you two away from the ground. He turns to kiss your temple, then your cheeks, then the side of your head, anywhere he could get his lips on as the tears fall freely on his face.
