Texts Jude Would Send You Part 2 - Jb Au!!

texts jude would send you part 2 - jb au!!

got another request to do this so here you go!! 🤍🤍

part one

Texts Jude Would Send You Part 2 - Jb Au!!

insecure

credits to the owner!

summary: gavi comforts you

warnings: slighty angst

pairing: pablo gavi x fem!reader

request: maybe an imagine where the reader is feeling insecure about herself, and pablo just gives her loads of reassurance? some angst and fluff? ❤️

taglist: @paucubarsisimp, @barcapix, @joaosnovia

requests are open!

masterlist

Tears streamed down your face as you walked back home. You were at a meeting with a new friend from college and it ended the same as any of your meetings with girls.

Without knowing why you couldn't get along with your own gender, they always turned out to be false, every one you met. Today was no different, because the girl baselessly criticized your appearance in a perfidious way. Unfortunately, she hit your weak spot, your huge complex, which is your nose and your figure.

You were an extremely sensitive person and it touched you very much. You didn't know what was wrong with you and why you couldn't find a friend for yourself. You felt very alone in this respect. You didn't have a sister, and you had very little contact with your mother to just talk about girly things that boys didn't understand.

You returned home, slamming the door lightly. You felt defeated. Your boyfriend Pablo frowned at the sudden noise and stood up from the couch to meet your eyes.

"Baby, what happened?" he asked immediately taking you into his arms, wiping your tears.

“Same thing again” you sobbed into his neck. "Pablo, what's wrong with me?" you asked, and his heart clenched with grief at the sound of your cries. "Why can't I get along with any girl?" you sobbed.

"Everything is fine with you, amor. They are stupid that they can't appreciate you" he stroked your back, whispering in your ear.

Gavi led you to the couch where he let you cry in his arms as he held you tightly.

"What did she do?" he asked, his heart breaking at the sight of you as you cried your eyes out.

"She started criticizing my appearance, so suddenly" you said, squeezing the material of his sweatshirt, burying your face in his neck, you felt the boy kissing your head.

“What a slut” he said, caressing your cheek, motioning for you to look at him. "What did she say?" he asked, you could tell he was nervous.

"She commented on my nose, that it was too crooked, and said that I had gained weight, saying that I should take care of myself" you confessed, and Pablo squeezed his hands furiously until his knuckles turned white.

“I hope you didn't believe her” he said firmly, rubbing circles on your arm.

You looked at him with tearful eyes, making eye contact with him, which said otherwise.

“Oh, amor mío” he whispered, pulling you closer into his arms, placing kisses on the top of your head. "For me, you are the most wonderful person in the world. I love your beautiful nose, and this crazy woman is blind for telling you that you are fat, because you are not. You have a normal figure, which I also love. I love you all, just as you are and no other person has no right to question your beauty, mi preciosa" he kissed your nose and you smiled softly. "And that's what I always want to see on your lovely face" he said, giggling softly.

“Thank you, Pablito” you said softly, sniffling, and he kissed your forehead.

“I'm always here for you, princesa” he gave you another kiss. "So what? Masks, nails and gossip?" he asked, making you laugh and you nodded.

Pablo was your best friend. He tried his best for you to make you feel better. He let you paint his nails and braid his hair in short braids. You put a blindfold on him to keep his hair out of his eyes when you putting masks on your faces. He secretly loved it. He loved talking to you and gossiping about everything, sharing your enthusiasm. You were grateful for that.

“I love you, mi princesa bonita” you heard when you were already half asleep while lying on his chest as you watched a movie.

"I love you too, Pablito. I'm glad I have you in my life" you whispered weakly, opening your eyes for a moment to look into his brown ones.

He looked at you with unimaginable love, pressing your lips together in a sweet kiss goodnight. He pulled you close to him so that you could hear his heartbeat and you knew you had found the best boy in the world.

if you like this, please like, reblog or comment 🫶🏻

115 notes View Post

joaosnovia

3 months ago

can you make one with Toni Fernandez, where y/n and Toni are dating but haven't seen each other for some weeks, where she surprise him at a game

❦ - playing for keeps.

summary:: after weeks on end of long distance you decide to surprise your boyfriend at one of his matches.

warnings:: uhhhh none?

writers note:: so i wrote this at 10pm lowkey half asleep otp to my friends so therefore it’s definitely not the best piece of writing ive ever done but i needed to get it finished bc i need to get as much done as i can before tomorrow!

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

you had been counting down the days. weeks, actually. being in a long distance relationship with toni fernández wasn’t easy, especially when his football schedule kept him away for long stretches. facetime calls, endless texts, voice notes, those things helped, but nothing could replace being with him in person. waking up to his sleepy smile, the warmth of his hand in yours, the comfort of just being near him. you missed it all. every single part of him.

so when you finally arranged to fly out and surprise him at his game, your heart buzzed with excitement. you spent nights going over the plan with his cousin, guille, who promised to keep everything under wraps. you’d triple checked your flights, packed your bag three times, and now, sitting in the stands, dressed in toni’s jersey, you could hardly believe you were actually here. the roar of the crowd vibrated through your bones, but all you could focus on was the figure on the field. him.

toni looked good, he always did, but there was something about seeing him in his element that made your chest tighten with pride. hair slightly messy, focus razor sharp, the number on his back like a magnet pulling you in. you found yourself grinning every time he got near the ball, heart leaping with each pass and shot. this was his world, and you were so proud to be part of it.

halftime came and went. you debated texting him, just to hear from him, but you stopped yourself. it would ruin the surprise. instead, you let yourself get lost in the atmosphere, the chants, the energy, the way strangers cheered together like old friends. it was electric.

the final whistle blew. barcelona had won, and the stadium erupted. you watched as players hugged, jumped on each other, shared grins that stretched ear to ear. toni was in the center of it, eyes crinkled with happiness, sweat soaked and radiant with that post match glow you loved so much. he started making his way toward the tunnel, exchanging high fives with fans along the way. and then…

his eyes flickered toward your section.

for a moment, he froze. like he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right. then his gaze sharpened. his lips parted. you couldn’t hear his voice over the crowd, but you didn’t need to. you saw the way his mouth formed your name, disbelief melting into pure joy.

you waved, laughter bubbling up in your chest. his reaction was better than you’d imagined. without thinking, toni jogged over, ignoring security and the attempts to hold him back. he climbed over the barriers like a man on a mission, reaching you in seconds.

'you’re actually here,' he breathed, pulling you into his arms. his embrace was tight, grounding, everything you’d missed. he smelled like grass, sweat, and something uniquely him. your world righted itself in his hold.

'what are you doing here?' he asked, voice muffled against your hair.

'surprising you, obviously,' you said, laughing as he lifted you slightly off the ground. your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you didn’t care.

'god, i missed you,' he murmured, pulling back just enough to press his forehead against yours. his thumb brushed your cheek, eyes soft in a way that made your heart flip. 'this is, this is the best surprise.'

'figured you deserved a reward for the win,' you teased, though your voice cracked with emotion.

'trust me, this beats any trophy,' he grinned before leaning in to kiss you. it was soft, familiar, everything you’d been craving. the stadium noise faded, the world shrinking down to just the two of you. cameras clicked somewhere in the distance, but neither of you paid them any mind.

'missed you,' you whispered against his lips.

'missed you more,' he shot back without hesitation.

a chorus of cheers erupted from his teammates, guille’s voice cutting through; ‘finally! we’ve been keeping this secret for weeks!'

you pulled back, laughing. 'traitors, the lot of you.'

toni rolled his eyes fondly. 'come on, they’re dying to say hi.' he intertwined his fingers with yours, warmth seeping through every touch. 'you ready?'

'lead the way.'

the locker room was chaos, good-natured teasing, pats on the back, everyone welcoming you like family. someone handed you a beer, another draped an extra scarf around your shoulders. it felt like being swept into a whirlwind, but toni never let go of your hand, anchoring you through it all.

later, much later, you found yourselves back at his place. the adrenaline had worn off, replaced by quiet contentment. you lay tangled on the couch, his head resting against your shoulder, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm.

'can’t believe you really came,' he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

'worth every second,' you replied, pressing a kiss to his hair. 'besides, someone’s gotta keep you humble.'

he huffed a laugh. 'good luck with that.'

you smiled, eyes fluttering shut. the weeks apart had been hard, but right now, with him here, warm, safe, home, it all felt like a distant memory.

'best post-match gift ever,' he whispered.

you didn’t disagree.

and as the city outside buzzed with life, you let yourself drift off, heart full and content in the arms of the person you loved most.

❦ - unexpected but never a problem.

Hector Fort Taking Care Of Reader Who Had Her Period Unprepared And Is Embarrassed About It Cuz Her Ex

summary:: what the req says.

warnings:: nooooone? cussing i think…?

writers notes:: i love you anon you’re so cute i saw it and instantly wrote it you’re adorable! anyways im not very good w requests so i really dunno if this is what you wanted but i hope u love it nonetheless? gimme feedback yg i beg 💔. ALSO I HAVE NO JOAO REQUESTS GIMME SOME PLSSS

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

you realize it too late.

the uncomfortable dampness, the slight cramping you brushed off earlier, the way hector’s hoodie, his favorite one, now feels impossibly heavy around your waist as you tie it there in a desperate attempt to hide the evidence.

you should have known. you should have been prepared. but your cycle has always been unpredictable, and with how distracted you’ve been lately, school, work, trying not to fall too hard for the boy currently walking beside you - you weren’t paying attention.

now, you’re hyperaware. of every step you take, of every shift in fabric, of how you can feel it, and god, you don’t even want to check. you don’t want to know how bad it is.

but the worst part? you know what happens next.

or, at least, you think you do.

‘you good?’ hector asks, nudging your shoulder gently.

his voice is casual, light, but you can hear the underlying concern. you’re usually more talkative, always teasing him about something, and now you’re barely saying a word.

you swallow hard. ‘yeah. just… tired.’

he doesn’t look convinced. he studies you for a second, his gaze flicking to the hoodie tied around your waist.

then he stops walking.

‘okay, what’s wrong?’

your stomach twists. ‘nothing, hector, i just..’

‘nah, you’re acting weird. did something happen?’

the worry in his voice only makes the knot in your throat worse. but what are you supposed to say? hey, i just bled through my clothes, and i’m freaking out because my ex used to act like it was the worst thing in the world whenever this happened?

your silence lasts a second too long.

hector frowns. then his eyes flick down again, just for a second, before realization dawns on his face.

your heart pounds.

this is it. this is where he pulls back, where he sighs in frustration, where he makes some offhand comment about how you should’ve planned better. you brace for it, already shrinking into yourself, already fighting back the burning embarrassment

but then he’s shrugging off his jacket.

before you can react, he steps closer, wrapping it securely around your waist, completely covering the hoodie. he makes quick work of tying the sleeves, knotting them tight like it’s second nature.

your breath catches.

‘there,’ he says easily, tugging once to make sure it’s secure. ‘you wanna go home?’

you blink. ‘…what?’

he gives you a look. ‘you’re clearly not comfortable. we can dip.’

he’s not mad. he’s not annoyed.

he’s just helping.

you stare at him, your chest tight, emotions tangling together too fast for you to process.

‘you don’t have to do all that,’ you mumble.

he shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘why wouldn’t i?’

you hesitate, fingers gripping the edge of the jacket now wrapped around you. ‘because it’s gross.’

his brow furrows. ‘who told you that?’

you freeze.

you don’t mean to react, but the words hit you like a gut punch. because you know who told you that. over and over again, in every careless remark, every sigh, every time he made you feel like something you couldn’t control was your fault.

and hector sees it.

he exhales, dragging a hand down his face, before looking at you again, softer this time.

‘listen, i don’t know who made you feel bad about this, but that’s bullshit. it’s not gross, it’s not your fault, and you sure as hell don’t need to be embarrassed about it.’ he shakes his head, muttering, ‘like, how do you even get mad at someone for having a body? that’s insane.’

you let out a breathy laugh, small, but real.

hector smirks. ‘there she is.’

you roll your eyes, but the knot in your chest loosens. ‘you’re stupid.’

‘nah, i just have common sense.’ he reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s the easiest thing in the world. ‘now, c’mon. let’s get you home.’

you don’t argue. you just squeeze his hand, let yourself lean into the warmth of him, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel ashamed.

Milano & L'amore - João Felix

Joao Fic With He Stays Sober At A Forge In Italian Club In Milan, So Reader Can Get Drunk And He’s

joao felix x fem!reader

sy: milan comes with its fun, but also its less appealing moments. tonight’s an example.

a/n: although i hate the abbreviation of the ‘mafia’ and even mentioning it i couldn’t think of anything else as a placeholder so💔 plus this is not proofread idk im tired so sozsoz for any mistakes ..

warnings: portuguese and italian and the use of alcohol

the bartender slides you another shot of tequila across the marble countertop, and you catch it surprisingly easy.

the club is a kaleidoscope of green and pink, the flashing lights sending you into a drunken void.

“another one?” your boyfriend, joão, comes up from behind. his aftershave is overwhelmingly strong, which makes you even more nauseous.

“yes, another one,” you mock, taking a swig.

the liquid burns down your throat, the addictive wave of alcohol scorching into your head. your slumped over the bar, barely sitting upright and the stool is nothing but a flimsy cushion underneath you.

“y/n, i think you’ve had enough for tonight,” joão tries to snatch the drink, but you slide it away.

“i decide when i have enough,” you counter, almost falling backwards but joão’s swift enough to catch you on time.

“really?” he scoffs. “your gonna play this game with me? you know this isn’t healthy.”

with a second gulp of your drink, you slam the glass down onto the table to look up at your sober boyfriend who looks merely amused.

“your always acting like this,” you lazily mumble. “always lecturing me at… parties.”

you mimic him whilst swaying your hands in the air. “no y/n you can’t drink this, don’t do that. come over here, don’t go there.”

joão looks at you with an jovial expression—in the way your still able to form a sentence despite the amount of churning alcohol pitting in your stomach.

“now,” you fist the glass up to his face. “stop being so boring and have some!”

his grin falters, now unimpressed. “i’ll pass.”

“we’re in milan joão!” you lazily squeak, pulling him down by his half unbuttoned shirt, faces now inches apart. “you need to have some fun.”

he pinches his nose. “yeah and you need gum.”

your smile is carefree, joyful. you sling your arms around the nape of his neck, littering sloppy kisses over his tanned skin.

“awh aren’t you the sweetest?” you mistake his comment for a compliment. “i’m so lucky to have you bebê waby.”

joão purses his lips, rolling up his sleeves. “c’mon, enough. we’re going home right now.”

as he tries to lift you up, you vividly protest.

“ey antonio,” you call to the bartender, using the first name that comes to mind. “don’t make him take me away! we’re friends, right?”

the bartender solely spares you a glance, continuing to pour drinks like he’s heard this exact situation play out a hundred times before.

before you can resist further, you’re suddenly lifted off the ground, swung over joão’s shoulder like a misbehaving child.

“joão! put me down this instant, traidor,” you yell, kicking your legs.

joão, clearly, has more strength than you will ever possess, when he doesn’t even phase at the wriggling your doing to try and escape.

“joão! estou faland—serious,” you babble. “this.. não é justo.”

any words that spring to mind, you voice, even if it was a mix of both english and portuguese. you still somewhat have a smidge of conscious left, and you use it to snatch a fresh glass of vodka from a passing waiters tray.

joão catches on, glancing up at you. “y/n, where did you get that from—no!”

your mid-sip, when he forcefully slides it from your grasp and tosses it into a nearby waste bin.

“what’s wine ever done to you?” you slur, poking him in the chest as he finally sets you back down outside the club.

“for starters, that wasn’t wine,” he corrects. “and second of all, it stole my girlfriend from me.”

your eyes widen dramatically. “you have a… girlfriend? oh, so when did you meet her, huh?” you gasp. “you’re using me.”

joão runs a hand down his face. “no, amor, i don’t have another girlfriend.”

there was in fact, no other girl, but obviously you had way too many to drink than he anticipated.

“hmm,” you squint at him like you’re trying to read his mind.

visibly stressed, he runs his fingers through his hair as he pulls out his phone for a taxi. whereas, your too busy playing with the buttons on his shirt to notice.

“joão,” you spout, reaching up to squish his face between your hands. “you’re so… handsome.”

he sighs deeply, gently prying your hands off. “obrigado, amor. now let me find us a taxi, okay?”

but before he can even look up from his phone, you gasp dramatically. “wait. wait. where’s my bag?”

joão’s heart nearly stops. “what?”

you twirl around in circles, patting your sides. “i had a bag. where’s my bag? joão, my bag—”

“anjo, hey look at me,” he says, firmly locking your shoulders down. “you didn’t bring a bag.”

“oh.” you pause. “are you sure?”

“yes, i’m sure,” he groans, raking a hand down his face, almost on the brink of having heart palpitation. “we have more important things to worry about. like getting you home.”

as if the universe is mocking him, not a single car is in sight. the street is presumably quiet, as it is almost 3am and most people are already inside the club or stumbling off in different directions.

the portuguese looks around desperately, until spotting a driver leaning against the streetlamp.

“come on,” he tugs on your hand. “let’s see if he’s free.”

but you, in your drunken wisdom, come to a halt and dig your heels into the ground. “wait.”

joão groans. again. “wait for what y/n?”

you nervously grab onto his wrist with your spare hand, and whisper (noisily). “what if he’s part of the mafia?”

he stares at you, blinking so fast that he hopes you’d snap back into reality. the mafia?

your confident in your conspiracy, staring back with all of the faint seriousness you had left. not that you had much tonight, though.

“y/n,” he erupts flatly. “he’s a taxi driver.”

you hiss. “that’s what they want you to think.”

joão closes his eyes for a long moment, breathing in so deeply like he’s summoning for any patience that god can offer him. then, his nostrils flare determinedly, and without another word, he drags you along.

the driver looks up as you approach “sì?”

“uh.. possiamo eh,” he gestures vaguely. “possiamo.. prendere un taxi?” (can.. we get a taxi?)

“dove vuoi andare?” the driver now turns to face you fully. (where do you want to go?)

joão blanks. well shit. did he really expect a local in milan to be fluent in english? luckily, he briefly understood what he’d said but knowing how to form a response was a new challenge.

“uh.. to our hotel?”

“quale hotel?” the driver gives him a pointed look. (which hotel?)

joão’s mouth opens and closes. of course he knows the name of the hotel. but right now? right now, when you were clinging to his arm and sputtering some nonsense about ‘dangerous italian gangsters’(?). his brain was fried.

for you, this is nothing short of in awe. “awh baby you sound so smart right now.”

“y/n, please.” he feigns.

the driver sighs, patience thinning. “l'indirizzo?”(the address?)

he quickly fumbles for his phone, trying to pull up the hotels location. his hands are full because of your constant swaying against him, always looking to grab his attention.

“joãoo,” you pout, pressing your cheek against his chest. “why is your heartbeat so fast? is it normally this fast?”

“um, no,” he presses his lips into a thin line, still struggling to get the location. you continue to ramble about something else, but ignores you.

after a painful few seconds, he finally grabs the address, showing it to the driver.

the man squints at the screen, then exhales heavily, like he’s deeply regretting taking this job tonight. but he nods. “va bene. venite.” (okay. come)

you snort. “look at you, my multilingual king.”

he helps you into the backseat, making sure you don’t hit your head in the process, before sliding in next to you.

when the engine starts, your head hits his shoulder, he cuddles you closer, his arm around your waist like a crafted seatbelt.

after a few beats of silence, you grumble. “you still love me after all this right?”

joão ushers a breathy laugh, resting his chin atop your head. “more than anything mi vida.”

🔖🏷️: @n0vazsq @hearzdiarx @paucubarsisimp @diarieeeelils @joaosnovia @httpsdana @universefcb

138 notes View Post

joaosnovia

1 month ago

can you make one with Guille Fernandez again, where the reader is Hector Fort's little sister

fluff

❦ - hermanita.

Can You Make One With Guille Fernandez Again, Where The Reader Is Hector Fort's Little Sister

summary:: what the req says.

warnings:: none?

writers notes:: istg on all upcoming fics, unless the req doesn’t explain what it is/i have free will, im gonna remove the summary section

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he knew from the beginning.

not because you told him, but because he’s your brother.

hector sees everything.

he noticed the way guille looked at you one afternoon in the kitchen, like he’d never seen anyone laugh so easily. he noticed how you always sat beside guille on the couch now. how your voice changed when you said his name. he noticed the lingering silence between you two when he walked into the room, like the air had shifted and neither of you had learned how to play it cool yet.

so one day he just… said it.

‘if you’re gonna date her, tell me. don’t be a coward about it.’

you and guille had frozen at the same time, like kids caught stealing candy.

but then guille stood up, cleared his throat, and said

‘i care about her. i wouldn’t touch her heart if i wasn’t serious about it.’

hector stared at him for a long second. then shrugged.

‘don’t break her. that’s all.’

it wasn’t easy after that, but it was open.

no more hiding glances. no more awkward silences.

guille would text you mid-training with a ‘miss you already’ and hector would just roll his eyes. guille would come over and sit next to you on the floor, and your brother would say something like ‘you have your own house, fernández.’ but it was light. teasing. tolerable.

because deep down, hector trusted him.

he’d known guille since they were kids. shared locker rooms and long bus rides. he knew what kind of man he was becoming.

and even if it drove him crazy to see you holding hands with his best friend, he knew you were safe.

one night, guille walked you home after a quiet dinner out. he held your hand the whole way.

when you reached the door, he looked at you for a long second before saying, ‘do you ever wish it was someone else?’

you frowned. ‘what?’

‘someone who wasn’t your brother’s best friend. someone easier. less complicated.’

you didn’t even hesitate.

‘never. i don’t care how complicated it is. it’s you. it’s always been you.’

and guille kissed you, soft and grateful, like he still couldn’t believe he got to have you, out in the open, without having to pretend.

inside, hector watched you both through the window. sighed.

then muttered to himself