So… Basically. Hair Over The Forehead. Case In Point?

Jude Bellingham Reads Thirst Tweets About Himself

Jude Bellingham x Reader

The camera is set up, and Jude Bellingham sits comfortably on the couch, holding your phone. He looks at you, already suspicious.

“You really got me reading thirst tweets?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod excitedly. “Yup! And no backing out.”

Jude sighs but smirks. “Alright, let’s get this over with.” He scrolls and immediately widens his eyes. “Nah, this one’s crazy.”

He clears his throat dramatically before reading, “‘Jude Bellingham could ruin my life, and I’d thank him.’”

His jaw drops. “RUIN your life?! What does that even mean?!” He looks at you for an explanation.

You just shrug. “They’re dedicated.”

Jude shakes his head and keeps scrolling. “Okay, next one.” He reads, “‘Jude Bellingham’s hands look big enough to carry me, and honestly, I’d let him.’”

He pauses, flexing his hands. “I mean… I do have big hands, but what do you mean, ‘carry you’? Where are we going?” He laughs, but his ears are turning red.

You burst out laughing. “Jude, you’re blushing.”

“I am NOT.” He clears his throat again and continues. “‘Jude Bellingham could look at me once, and I’d pass out on the spot.’” He leans closer to the camera. “Alright, let’s test that theory. If you’re watching this, don’t pass out.”

You roll your eyes. “Jude, stop flirting with the internet.”

He smirks. “Not my fault they started it.”

Scrolling again, he suddenly chokes on his own breath. “Oh, NO. I’m not reading that.”

You snatch the phone. “Oh, come on. What does it say?”

Jude groans, covering his face. “It says, ‘Jude Bellingham could call me a bad girl, and I’d forget my own name.’”

Your mouth drops open. “Oh my God.”

Jude stares at the camera in disbelief. “You lot need Jesus.”

You’re crying laughing. “Read one more!”

Jude sighs but scrolls. His eyes widen. “Oh, hell no.” He reads it anyway. “‘Jude Bellingham, if you see this, I will bark for you.’”

He drops the phone. “Nah. I’m done. You’re all unhinged.”

You’re wheezing at this point. “Regret doing this?”

Jude shakes his head, laughing. “One hundred percent.”

[TikTok ends – comments are wild]

Top Comment: “THE WAY HE SAID ‘YOU LOT NEED JESUS’ I’M SCREAMING 😭”

Second Comment: “‘Let’s test that theory’ JUDE PLEASE 😳”

Third Comment: “We broke him and I have no regrets.”

i am SICK of my user but idk if i shoudk change it bcc im lowkey a hypocrite bc i silently judge people w users like mine but in english

hii, i just start read you fic, and i love them. and can you maybe make a story of y/n and Guille Fernandez, where they are old friend, but haven't seen each other for years, but she chooses to go to Barcelona to surprise him. a cute ending.

❦ - back to you.

summary:: you and guille have always been bestfriends but you had to move away. ever since then he’s all you could think about to the point you couldn’t take it anymore and you came right back.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: i’m sorry this is really rushed i really need to extend my fics bc this is more of a blurb icl but i hope you guys like it nonetheless!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed!

the plane lands with a soft jolt, and you grip the armrest, heart thumping. it’s been years. too many. your pulse quickens as you gather your bag, feet moving on autopilot through the terminal. barcelona greets you with golden warmth, the kind that sinks into your skin and settles there, familiar and comforting. the air smells the same too: sea salt, roasting chestnuts, and the faint hint of blooming jasmine wafting from somewhere beyond the airport doors.

your phone buzzes in your pocket. a text from guille lights up the screen: meeting ran late. might just crash when i get home. today’s been brutal. you smile, thumb hovering over the keyboard. should you respond? hint at what’s coming? no. that’d ruin the whole point. you tuck your phone away, nerves simmering beneath your excitement.

the cab ride is a blur of winding streets and familiar sights. balconies overflow with potted plants, and the hum of city life pulses at every corner, laughter, footsteps, distant music echoing through the alleys. barcelona feels like a memory you’re stepping back into, equal parts comfort and surprise. maybe it’s the city that’s changed. maybe it’s you. maybe it’s him.

your thoughts drift to the last time you saw him, five years ago. rushed goodbyes at an airport terminal. promises to stay in touch that slowly dissolved. guille had been a constant back then, the anchor to your storm. funny how some people hold onto a part of you, even when time stretches thin between meetings.

the driver pulls up to his building, and you thank him, nerves twisting tighter. the graffiti along the side wall is still there, same colors, same shapes. the bakery on the corner glows warmly, scent of fresh bread curling through the cool evening air. you inhale deeply, letting it wrap around you like a hug. some things never change.

you pause at his door, fingers hesitating before you knock. quick. sharp. footsteps shuffle on the other side, and then – a pause. the lock clicks. the door creaks open.

his hair’s longer, scruffier. but those eyes; the same warm blonde, widen with disbelief. ‘what the hell?’ his voice is caught somewhere between a laugh and a breathless exhale.

‘surprise,’ you grin, nerves melting beneath the weight of his gaze.

‘you’re here,’ he breathes out, blinking as if you might vanish. his hand reaches forward, fingertips brushing yours. ‘god, you should’ve told me.’

‘and ruin the surprise?’

he laughs, loud, bright, the kind that pulls at something deep in your chest. ‘get in here.’

inside, his apartment is a blend of clutter and comfort. books stacked haphazardly. a guitar propped against the couch. the place smells like coffee and cedarwood. he runs a hand through his hair, still dazed. ‘seriously, what? how long are you here for?’

‘depends,’ you shrug. ‘how much coffee can you promise me?’

hours later, you end up at the beach, shoes kicked off, waves cool against your ankles. the city hums behind you, music, conversation, life carrying on while the sky melts into a watercolor of pinks and oranges. conversation flows easily. you swap stories, trade laughter, filling the spaces where years had crept in. it’s seamless. natural. like no time passed at all.

he bends to pick up a pebble, flinging it into the surf. ‘remember that summer we got lost trying to find that lighthouse?’

‘you mean you got us lost,’ you shoot back.

‘hey, i was following your map!’

‘my map didn’t tell you to wander into someone’s backyard.’

laughter bubbles up between you, shoulders bumping. the sky deepens into indigo, stars beginning to prickle the horizon. silence settles, comfortable and warm. his gaze shifts to you, softer now. ‘i missed you,’ he says, quiet but certain.

your heart tugs, something tender and familiar unfurling. ‘yeah. me too.’

he reaches for your hand. no hesitation. fingers slip between yours, fitting like they always have. the waves hush against the shore, and for a moment, it’s just this, just him, just you.

‘so,’ he murmurs, glancing over. ‘you staying a while?’

you squeeze his hand, smile tugging at your lips. ‘yeah. i think i will.’

you walk back through winding streets bathed in amber light, shoes dangling from free hands. laughter drifts from nearby cafés. someone strums a guitar overhead, notes floating down from a balcony. the city stretches out around you; vast and intimate all at once.

later, you sit side by side on his balcony, mugs of tea warming your hands. barcelona sprawls before you, glittering under the night sky. he leans back in his chair, casting you a sidelong glance. ‘can’t believe you’re really here.’

you rest your head against his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping. ‘me neither.’

the night folds in close, warm, familiar, as if the universe is whispering: this is where you’re meant to be.

no but where’s dorothea @barcapix

nothing scarier than being a fan of a fic and then becoming mutuals with the author. like hi shakespeare. big fan of your fake dating au

SOOOO YK WHO IT IS BBG BUTT maybe like jude x reader where shes an influencer for adidas and her and jude have to do a COLLAB FOr the brand and stuff i trust ur imagination❤️❤️

❦ - all eyes on us.

summary:: you’re a famous influencer who’s been paired up with jude for adidas pr.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: i love this hello? i love you babe this is such a yummy request i love writing this!! 😍 also i’ve clocked that i write sm in my writers note so uhm anywho this is my first jude fic so i hope my jude girlies like it!! btw this is my first time trying this style of writing ig so tell me if it’s good xx

word count:: 2,708

You never minded the fast paced world of being an influencer. You’d built your brand around effortless style and relatable charm, snagging deals with top-tier companies like Adidas. Campaigns like this were nothing new to you - until Jude entered the picture.

He was charming, no doubt. Tall, confident, and with a way of making everyone in the room laugh, he had that kind of natural magnetism that couldn’t be taught. From the moment he walked into the studio, you felt the shift in the air.

But it wasn’t just his presence that threw you off, it was how easy he made everything look, even while you were secretly trying not to embarrass yourself.

You both stood under the spotlight for your first set of shots. The creative director had explained the vibe they were going for: young, edgy, and fun. This meant capturing moments of banter, mock rivalry, and flirtation.

‘I’m not used to being outshined,’ you muttered to Jude as the photographer adjusted their camera.

He leaned down slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll let you win this one.’

The nerve of him.

‘Alright, Jude, throw your arm around her shoulder,’ the photographer instructed.

You felt the weight of his arm drape across you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. The warmth of his skin through the fabric of your hoodie was distracting; almost too distracting.

‘Now laugh, like he just said something funny,’ the photographer added.

Jude didn’t miss a beat. ‘I didn’t realize fake laughing was part of your influencer requirements,’ he teased under his breath.

You tilted your head back and laughed anyway, your genuine amusement mixing with the forced effort.

The real chaos started after the shoot. Adidas had planned a tiktok segment where you and Jude would compete in challenges to promote the campaign.

The first challenge was simple: a lip-sync duet to a viral audio clip. Jude was awful at keeping up, missing half the words and breaking into laughter when he saw your exaggerated expressions.

‘Do you even know how tiktok works?’ you asked, barely able to hold back your laughter.

‘Not really,’ he admitted, grinning. ‘I’m more of a football guy, remember?’

‘Clearly. Let me handle this part.’

But when it came to the second challenge, a reaction test where you had to slap each other’s hands before the other could dodge - Jude’s reflexes as a professional athlete completely ruined your chances.

‘You’re impossible,’ you huffed, swatting at him as he casually held his hands just out of reach.

‘Don’t hate the player,’ he replied, his grin widening.

By the time the day ended, you were sitting on the studio’s couch, scrolling through some of the footage on your phone. Jude plopped down beside you, his body radiating warmth even in the air-conditioned room.

‘Let me see,’ he said, leaning over your shoulder.

You tilted the phone so he could watch the clips. The two of you looked so natural together, laughing, teasing, and bantering like you’d known each other for years instead of hours.

‘This one’s my favourite,’ he said, pointing at a video where you’d accidentally tripped over a cord mid shoot. Instead of falling, Jude had caught you with an arm around your waist, and the moment had turned into a perfectly awkward laugh caught on camera.

‘Yeah, that’s real ‘effortless cool,’ you said sarcastically.

He leaned back, his smirk softening into something more sincere. ‘You’re good at this. Like, really good. It’s not just the cameras. You’ve got... presence.’

You turned to him, surprised by the compliment. ‘Thanks, Jude. You’re not bad yourself, you know. For a footballer.’

As you both walked out of the studio, Jude fell into step beside you. The evening air was cool, the streets of the city buzzing with life.

‘You hungry?’ he asked casually, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

You glanced up at him, caught off guard. ‘Are you asking me to dinner?’

‘Maybe,’ he replied, that boyish grin creeping onto his face. ‘Unless you’re too busy for a post shoot celebration.’

You pretended to consider it. ‘Depends. Is this dinner part of the campaign, or is this just you trying to get to know me better?’

He laughed, shaking his head. ‘Off the record. No cameras, no Adidas logos. Just you and me.’

You hesitated for a moment before smiling. ‘Alright, Jude. You’ve got yourself a deal.’

The restaurant Jude chose wasn’t flashy, which surprised you. No cameras, no fancy decor, just a tucked away little spot that smelled like garlic and freshly baked bread. It was soft, warm, and nothing like the high-energy day you’d just had.  

‘This is unexpected,’ you said, sliding into the booth opposite him.  

‘What? Did you think I’d take you to some five-star rooftop spot?’ He smiled, setting his phone facedown on the table. ‘Not my style.’

‘I don’t know, you football types always seem... I don’t know, extra?’

Jude leaned back, one arm draped casually over the booth. ‘I’m not exactly your average footballer. But you already knew that.’

You laughed, shaking your head. ‘Alright, I’ll give you that. You’re different.’

The waiter appeared, and you both ordered, Jude insisting you get the house special because ‘it’s the only reason I come here.’ Once the waiter disappeared, there was a brief silence, the kind that could’ve been awkward if Jude wasn’t so effortlessly comfortable.  

‘So, do you always nonchalantly get your way through shoots like that?’ you teased, resting your chin on your hand.  

His eyebrows shot up. ‘Nonchalance? That’s what you call it?’

‘What else would I call it?’

‘Survival,’ he said with a laugh. ‘You don’t understand, I’m used to kicking a ball around, not posing and trying to look cool.’

‘Well, you pulled it off,’ you admitted. ‘Even if you were hopeless at TikTok.’

‘Hopeless?’ He leaned forward, grinning. ‘You’re crazy, you know that?’

‘Just honest,’ you said, matching his energy.  

The banter flowed as naturally as it had on set, but there was something more intimate about it now. Without the cameras and the crew, Jude wasn’t just the Adidas poster boy or the football sensation, he was Jude, the guy who couldn’t stop making you laugh.  

As you left the restaurant, you didn’t notice the group of fans across the street until one of them shouted his name.  

‘Jude! Over here!’

You glanced at him, expecting him to be annoyed, but instead, he smiled and waved, walking over to sign autographs and take a few pictures. You hung back, not wanting to steal his moment, but one of the fans pointed at you.  

‘Is that your girlfriend?’

Your cheeks burned, and before you could even respond, Jude turned to you with a smirk. ‘What do you think? Should we let them guess?’

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. ‘Let’s not start rumors on a Wednesday night.’

The fans laughed, but your heart raced as Jude returned to your side, his hand brushing against yours.  

‘Sorry about that,’ he said once you were out of earshot.  

‘Does that happen a lot?’

‘All the time,’ he admitted. ‘You get used to it. But I guess that’s your world too, huh? Fans, cameras, people watching your every move?’

‘It’s... different,’ you said honestly. ‘I mean, I don’t have people yelling my name on the street, but yeah, there’s pressure to always be ‘on.’’

He nodded, his expression softening. ‘Yeah, I get that.’

You woke up the next day to your phone buzzing non-stop. Half-asleep, you grabbed it off your nightstand and squinted at the screen.  

Your notifications were flooded.  

FootyUpdates: ‘Jude Bellingham spotted at dinner with influencer yourusername last night 👀 Fans are already shipping it!’

AdidasOfficial: ‘Name a more iconic duo than JudeBellingham and yourusername. We’ll wait.’

yourfanacc: ‘Wait, are Jude and Y/N a THING?!? They look so cute together!!!’

You groaned, scrolling through the dozens of comments, edits, and conspiracy theories. One clip in particular was gaining traction, a TikTok of you and Jude laughing during the campaign shoot, set to a romantic song.  

Your phone buzzed again.  

Jude: morning darling. you seen the chaos yet?

You laughed, typing back. 

oh, you mean the part where we’re trending? yeahhh, just saw it.

think adidas planned this?

wouldn’t put it past them

There was a pause before his next message came through.  

Jude: you alright with it? 

You hesitated. The attention was overwhelming, sure, but there was something exciting about it too.  

mhm, as long as you’re ok being shipped w me?

Jude: could be worse. you’re kinda hard not to like.

The buzz from the campaign only grew, and Adidas wasted no time capitalizing on it. Within a week, you and Jude were booked for another event, a live Q&A streamed on Instagram.  

‘You ready for this?’ he asked as you both sat down in front of the camera.  

‘Not even a little,’ you admitted, adjusting your mic.  

The questions started off innocent enough, favorite Adidas pieces, funniest moments from the shoot, but it didn’t take long for fans to steer the conversation toward your ‘chemistry.’

‘So, what’s it like working together?’ one fan asked.  

Jude glanced at you, a playful glint in his eye. ‘Terrible. She bullies me non stop.’

You gasped, swatting his arm. ‘That’s a lie! You’re the bully.’

The fans ate it up, the comment section exploding with heart emojis.

As the weeks went on, you and Jude kept crossing paths, for more Adidas campaigns, promotional events, and even the occasional text conversation that drifted into late night time. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to ignore the spark between you.  

But with every laugh, every lingering glance, there was always that voice in the back of your head reminding you of the cameras, the fans, and the fact that you were both living in two completely different worlds.  

One night, after a particularly long shoot, Jude turned to you as you were packing up your things.  

‘Hey,’ he said softly. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course,’ you replied, pausing.  

‘Do you ever... wish things were simpler? Like, no cameras, no pressure. Just normal?’

His question caught you off guard, but you nodded. ‘All the time. Why?’

He hesitated for a moment before giving you a small smile. ‘Just wondering.’

You didn’t push, but the way he looked at you in that moment stayed with you long after you’d gone home.  

It was late. You were sitting at a café, hunched over your laptop, trying to get some work done before the next event. The world outside was quiet, the kind of peaceful night that made everything feel suspended in time.  

Your phone buzzed again.  

Jude: you still up?

You smiled, quickly typing back.

always. got a shoot tomorrow. what’s up?

A few seconds later, his response popped up.  

Jude: wanna grab a drink rq?

You hesitated. There was something different about tonight. Jude had been subtly pulling away lately, nothing obvious, just an undercurrent of distance. Maybe it was the pressure of the campaign, the media frenzy, or maybe he was just being careful not to blur the lines between your professional relationship and whatever else might be brewing.  

But the truth was, you’d been feeling the same thing. The moments you spent together were becoming harder to ignore. Every time you caught his eye, or when he touched your shoulder in passing, your heart would skip a beat.  

i’d love to.

The bar was quiet, tucked into a side street away from the chaos of the city. It was dimly lit, with soft jazz playing in the background. You both sat at a small table near the window, your drinks untouched as the conversation flowed between easy laughter and deeper silences.  

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous around someone,’ Jude confessed, swirling his drink with a half-smile.  

You raised an eyebrow. ‘You? Nervous?’

He nodded, a subtle vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before. ‘Yeah. I guess I don’t really know how to... handle this.’

‘Handle what?’ you asked, your voice softening.  

‘This.’ He gestured between the two of you. ‘Whatever this is. I mean, you’ve been a part of my life now for what, a few weeks? But every time we’re together, it feels like something... more.’

The words hung in the air, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.  

You set your drink down and leaned forward, heart pounding. ‘Jude, I get it.’

His eyes flicked to yours, searching for the sincerity behind your words.  

‘You get what?’

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. ‘The pressure. The cameras, the fans, this whole world we live in. But I think... I think I’ve been avoiding this whatever this is between us, because it’s too complicated. I don’t know how to work it either.’

There was a long pause before Jude finally spoke, his voice low and steady. ‘I don’t want to keep pretending like it’s nothing. Like this isn’t affecting me. Because it is. Every time I see you, every time we talk, I can’t help but feel like I’m falling for you.’

Your heart hammered in your chest. ‘Jude, I...’

But before you could finish, he leaned in, his hand brushing against yours on the table. His touch was light but electric, sending a shiver up your spine.  

‘I don’t want to fight this anymore,’ he whispered, his eyes locked on yours. ‘I don’t want to pretend that I don’t want this. I want you.’ 

The tension between you both was insane. You could feel the weight of his words, and something inside you clicked. It was as if the floodgates had opened, and you finally understood that all the moments of hesitation, the awkwardness, and the teasing had been building up to this one point.  

Slowly, carefully, you leaned forward, closing the space between you. The kiss was gentle at first, almost tentative, like you both were unsure, testing the waters. But then Jude’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, and everything about that moment felt right.  

Your heart raced as you kissed him deeper, the world around you fading away. There was no camera, no pressure, no fans, just you and him, two people who had been dancing around this moment for far too long.  

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Jude rested his forehead against yours. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for so long,’ he murmured.  

You smiled, a little breathless yourself. ‘Me too.’

He laughed, that familiar spark returning to his eyes. ‘Guess it was worth the wait, huh?’

You nodded, still caught in the whirlwind of emotions. ‘Worth it.’

There was a comfortable silence as you both sat back in your seats, the world outside still unaware of what had just shifted between you.  

But in that moment, it didn’t matter. You’d crossed a line, one that couldn’t be uncrossed. Whatever happened next, you both knew it wouldn’t be easy. The cameras, the fans, the expectations, they’d all be there. But for the first time in weeks, you felt certain of one thing: you wanted this.  

And maybe, just maybe, he did too.  

The next day, you and Jude had to face reality. The media frenzy about your ‘relationship’ reached new heights, with every tabloid, Instagram post, and fan account speculating on what the kiss meant.  

But for once, it didn’t faze you. You were sitting next to him, the two of you quietly sipping coffee in the hotel lobby, exchanging glances and small smiles like you hadn’t just turned your world upside down.  

‘You know they’re gonna talk about this for days, right?’ you said, half-amused.  

Jude chuckled, reaching for your hand under the table. ‘Let them. We’ve got something real, even if they don’t get it.’

‘I’m okay with that.’ You squeezed his hand gently, the connection between you undeniable.  

And maybe that was the point. No matter what the world thought, you and Jude had found something real in the chaos. Something that couldn’t be captured by a camera, something just for the two of you.  

And for the first time in a long time, you felt free.  

IM SCREAMING AND THIS LOWKEY REMINDS ME TO POST THE FICS IN MY DRAFTS THANK YOU BAE

hiii i luv u and ur fics and can i request more joao please? there’s barely anything for him now! similar to your headcanons-what about where he takes makeup off for reader when she’s tired? xoxo

✮ Reverie - João Felix

joão felix x fem!reader

sy: when joão helps you remove your makeup after a tiring day.

a/n: this is just a short drabble until i finish five/six fics which should be published within a week or so! (another one for joão, one for torre, one for hector, one for bernal, one for charles, and maybe one for pedri) & also thank u ily 💓

warnings: no

joão came home late again, finding the house all quiet and eerie. the lights were off, curtains shut and many throwovers wearily scattered along the rim of the sofa.

the only source of light was the faint glow coming from upstairs, as he followed the light, his steps quiet, to end up at the foot of your bedroom door.

he gently pushed it open, the wood creaking at the sudden movement. as he stepped inside into the dim room, it was all similarly still—eerily silent, except for the small lamp set on the nightstand.

instantly, his eyes were drawn to you—already curled up on the bed, half-asleep, your makeup still on from the tiring day you endured.

“hey love,” he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “you forgot to take your makeup off.”

you groaned lightly, eyes barely opening. “too tired.” you murmured something of a sentence and buried your face further into the duvet.

“stay here,” joão ordered mellowly, peppering a kiss to the back of your hand, before disappearing into the bathroom. by now, he was an expert at this routine, and so instinctively rummaged through the cabinets to find the things needed.

a moment later, he returned with a small bowl of warm water, a soft cloth, and some cotton pads saturated with micellar water.

he reclaimed his spot besides you, gently dipping the cloth into the bowl. “let me help you.”

joão began by carefully pressing the damp cloth to your forehead, feeling the tension in your skin ease under his touch.

the brunette wiped at your cheeks, his hands steady and patient as if he were savouring the simple intimacy. each stroke removed a layer of the day—both physically and mentally—as you found yourself sinking further into the plush pillows.

slowly, the exhaustion that had been brewing inside all day seemed to dissipate under his loving devotion.

he moved to your eyes next, the mascara clinging stubbornly to your lashes. his movements were tender, deliberately cautious to not tug or hurt you.

you barely registered the sensation—your body too drained to protest. a hushed sigh of relief escaped your lips, with your eyes glued shut, as his fingertips soothed away the remnants of your makeup.

“almost done,” he muttered. his fingers lingered on your skin a moment longer, appreciating your raw beauty.

to him, makeup or not, you were perfect.

“there, im all finished now.” he murmured, setting the cloth aside. “now you can sleep meu amor.”

you stirred, reaching out to lace his hand with yours and squeezing it lazily. “thank you baby.” your voice still thick with drowsiness.

“anytime,” he chuckled tacitly, circling his thumb the soft curve of your cheek. “get some rest.”

he took his own advice, swiftly settling besides you on his side of the bed. he cradled you close to his chest possessively, as you drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

joão stayed awake for a while longer, listening to your regular heartbeats against his own as he ensured you were fully asleep.

Yes pt2 of the Jude fic plis

❦ - not enough for you. part 2.

summary:: ‘and with hardship comes ease.’ here is finally your ease.

warnings:: THIS WAS LEFT IN MY DRAFTS FOR ALMOST A MONTH.

writers note:: i am SO sorry it took this long? but here’s part one as well.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb

it had been weeks.

weeks since you walked out of his apartment, since you left behind the life you had built together. weeks of silence, of pretending you were okay, of waking up in an empty bed and forcing yourself not to check your phone.

you tried to move on. threw yourself into work, took on extra projects, stayed late at the office just to avoid coming home to the quiet. you told yourself you were fine. that you had made the right choice. that love should never come at the expense of yourself.

but god, you missed him.

you missed the way he’d pull you into his arms at the end of a long day, the way he’d press lazy kisses to your temple while you worked, the way he’d always keep a hand on you, your knee, your back, your fingers tangled with his, like he needed to know you were there.

some nights, you swore you could still hear his laugh echoing in the corners of your apartment. some mornings, you still reached for him in bed before remembering he wasn’t there.

and it hurt. because for all the love you had for him, it hadn’t been enough. and that truth sat heavy on your chest, refusing to fade.

then, one night, your phone rang.

his name flashed across the screen. your breath caught.

for a moment, you considered ignoring it. letting it go to voicemail. but something in you, something stubborn, something still so deeply tied to him, made you press accept.

‘hey,’ his voice was rough, like he hadn’t been sleeping.

you swallowed, gripping your phone tighter. ‘hey.’

silence.

‘i don’t know how to do this,’ he admitted, voice quiet. ‘how to be without you.’

your eyes burned. ‘you’re not without me, jude. i’m still here. i just… i just couldn’t keep choosing you over myself.’

a harsh exhale. ‘i know. and i hate that i made you feel like you had to.’

his voice cracked on the last word, and something inside you splintered.

‘it wasn’t fair,’ you whispered. ‘you wanted me to be someone i’m not. and that’s not love, jude. love isn’t asking someone to sacrifice who they are to fit into your world.’

he was quiet for so long you thought maybe he wouldn’t respond. but then,

‘i know,’ he said, voice hoarse. ‘i’ve been thinking about it. about us. about what i did wrong. and you were right. i wanted you to fit into my life, but i never stopped to think about how i could fit into yours.’

your throat tightened. ‘jude…’

‘i was selfish,’ he continued, not letting you interrupt. ‘i thought love meant you’d follow me anywhere, that you’d drop everything because you loved me. but i never stopped to think about how much you already had to lose. and that’s not fair. it’s not fair to you.’

a tear slipped down your cheek.

‘i miss you,’ he admitted, voice breaking. ‘but more than that, i miss being the person who made you happy. and i don’t know if we can fix this. but i want to try. if you’ll let me.’

your breath hitched.

for weeks, you had convinced yourself that he would never understand. that he would always expect you to fit into his world, to mold yourself into something easier, something more convenient. but this—this was him trying.

this was him choosing to meet you in the middle.

‘if we try again,’ you said carefully, ‘things have to be different. i need to know that you see me, jude. that you respect what i want for myself just as much as i respect what you want for yourself.’

‘i do,’ he said without hesitation. ‘i swear i do. i just… i don’t want to do this without you.’

you exhaled shakily, pressing your fingers to your temple.

‘can i see you?’ he asked after a beat. ‘not to fix everything right now, not to force anything. just… to see you.’

your heart ached. you knew this was a risk. that loving him, choosing him again, meant trusting that he would follow through on his promises. but a part of you, the part that never stopped loving him, wanted to believe that he could.

so you swallowed past the lump in your throat and whispered, ‘yeah. okay.’

and for the first time in weeks, hope felt like something real. something worth holding onto.

hey do u write for hector fort 😭? and if u do please write some headcanons for my man 🙏🙏

❦ - hector fort boyfriend headcannons

summary:: pov; you’re hector’s girlfriend.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: ofc i’ll write for hec!! i’ll write for anyone so idmmm!! i love headcannons it’s easy and i’ve js clocked that my hcs are descriptive asf. 😭 also this is the end of my inbox which is crazy so keep on requesting bc i have no ideas of my own fics… AND IM WRITING THIS DURING BARCA VS BETIS SO GAVI GOALLLL 🤍

ꨄ - quality time ; his love language is definitely quality time. he loves spending time with you whether it’s quiet evenings inside or going for a late night walk.

ꨄ - he’s the type to bring you flowers randomly, not bc it’s a special occasion but on a random tuesday, just because why not.

ꨄ - he’s not fond of pda at all so instead he’ll just hold your hand or rest his arm around your shoulders just to make it known you’re his.

ꨄ - COMMUNICATION IS KEY. he’s big on communication so he’ll always make you feel heard.

ꨄ - his gifting is thoughtful ; he pays close attention to things you love and will always include that in gifting whenever he can.

ꨄ - he loves being close to you. whenever you’re together he’ll bring you closer to him and if you’re away for days he’ll send voice notes talking about how much he misses you.

ꨄ - whenever he’s with his teammates he’ll always try and mention you, and if you visit him after his training, they’ll never stop teasing him.

ꨄ - he ‘accidentally’ leaves his hoodies at your place.

ꨄ - lowkey a cutie bc whenever you fall asleep on him he’ll take a photo of you and post it on his story for you to see when you wake up

SORRY THIS IS SHORT I WAS LOWKEY OUT OF IDEAS

OMG we need a part 3 of the Gavi x tennis reader fic

❦ - love && war 3.

summary:: winning isn’t everything. whether it’s on or off the pitch and that’s something you’ve realised.

warnings:: none.

writers notes:: guys i wanna sob this is really basic, repetitive and idk what to do for the plot but if yg want a part 4 i can do one where he ACTUALLY attends a match bc bros suffering by hearing the match from pedris pov 💔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @nngkay @cherryloveshs

the first thing you did after leaving the court was check your phone. sweat still clung to your skin, muscles aching from the three set battle you had just fought, but none of that mattered as much as the missed notifications lighting up your screen.

pablo: been refreshing the score like crazy, how did it go?
pablo: mi amor?
pablo: please tell me you won
pablo: shit, did you lose?
pablo: call me as soon as you can, okay?

your heart sank a little as you read his texts. you hated how badly he wanted to be there, how helpless he felt watching the live score update from miles away.

you sighed, quickly typing back.

you: lost in three. close, but not enough.

he read the message almost instantly. the typing bubbles appeared, then stopped. then appeared again.

your phone rang.

you stepped away from the locker room, walking into a quieter hallway before answering.

‘cariño,’ gavi’s voice was soft, but you could hear the frustration underneath. ‘tell me what happened.’

you leaned against the wall, exhaling. ‘she just played better. i had chances, but i didn’t take them. that’s it.’

‘that’s not it,’ he muttered. ‘i know you. i know you’re beating yourself up over every point.’

you closed your eyes for a moment. he wasn’t wrong.

‘i just, i really wanted this one, pablo. and i know i played well, but at the end of the day, i lost. and that’s all anyone will remember.’

‘that’s not true,’ he said instantly. ‘you were amazing. i didn’t even have to watch the match to know that. but it pisses me off that i couldn’t watch. i should’ve been there.’

‘pablo—’

‘i mean it,’ he cut you off, frustration creeping into his voice. ‘pedri was literally sitting on his ass watching the whole thing while i was stuck playing a match i barely cared about because all i wanted to do was check my phone for updates.’

you let out a small laugh despite yourself. ‘you barely cared about a la liga match?’

‘yes,’ he huffed. ‘well, okay, maybe not barely. but you get what i mean.’

you did. you really did.

‘you have no idea how badly i wanted to see you,’ he continued. ‘at halftime, i grabbed my phone the second i got to the locker room. hansi was giving a whole speech and i wasn’t even listening, i just kept refreshing the score.’

‘pablo, oh my god.’

‘no, listen to this,’ he went on. ‘i had to hide my phone under my shirt when he started walking around because i refused to put it down. i literally thought i was gonna get subbed off for being distracted.’

you bit your lip, torn between being exasperated and incredibly touched.

‘you’re crazy.’

‘for you? yeah, i am,’ he admitted without hesitation. ‘i hate missing your matches. and i swear i’ll be at the next one, even if i have to fight hansi for it.’

you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. ‘i appreciate the commitment, but i don’t think hansi would take too kindly to that.’

‘too bad. he’ll have to deal with it,’ gavi muttered.

there was a beat of silence before he spoke again, softer this time.

‘you know how proud i am of you, right?’

you swallowed.

‘even if you didn’t win, even if you think it wasn’t enough, you’re incredible. i hope you know that.’

your throat tightened slightly. he always knew exactly what to say.

‘thank you,’ you murmured. ‘really. that means a lot.’

‘i mean it,’ he said. ‘and when i see you, i’m gonna hug you so tight you’ll forget all about today.’

you laughed lightly. ‘looking forward to it.’

‘good. now go rest, okay? we’ll talk later.’

you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. ‘okay. love you.’

‘love you more, mi amor.’

and just like that, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.