#pau answers

[whattheheckmidoriya]

I have a flu right now! BUT even so, i feel more comfort reading headcanons about reader taking care of sick aizawa than the other way around. Is that weird?

Not weird at all, love!! I hope you're feeling better! Love ya!🫶🏼💖

Shota would be very stubborn. Despite his body aching for a moment's worth of rest, he'd find a way to haul himself off bed and get ready to work. Thankfully, however, he has you to ease him back to his pillows and tuck him under the blankets.

He'd complain at first, trying to convince you that he's fine and well enough to push through some work, but he knows it won't work. Reluctantly, he gives in to your soothing words and gentle touches, letting his exhaustion sink into his bones.

The rest of the day would pass in a blur for him, but he remembers you. He remembers the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair, tying it back in a bun. He remembers the sweet pressing of your lips on his cheek whenever you excused yourself to refill his glass of water. He remembers the sweet melody of your voice as you spoke hushed coos into his ears and the way you'd gently encourage him to sip on the spoonfuls of soup you'd brought up to his lips.

He'd spend the day caught in a feverish state, stumbling between unconsciousness and his few waking moments. Still, in his few moments of clarity, he could see you— his sweet angel with a smile that made his heart flutter. And that was all he ever needed.

[gghostwriter]

hiii you said your box is open for some S.R fluff requests sooo maybe you could write something like this:

Spencer and Reader go to a museum (or any kind of place Spencer could ramble to Reader about really). And Spencer starts to talk passionately about a certain thing he/off reader likes.

Reader admires his rambling and is in such awe that Spencer barely notices when they shut him up by kissing him?

Maybe they‘re in a fresh relationship and it‘s all very new

anon i loved your request so much that I integrated it to a beloved one shot of mine as a part 2, i really hope that was alright of me to do!

Please reach out and let me know, okay? Here is a link to your request 💗

[paulimiel]

I loveeeee your art <333 But also I need to tell you that your username trips me up bc pauli is a finnish name and it evokes a mental image of the most average 60 year old guy ever

NOOO WAYYY DKGKDKG where i live its just a cutesy way of saying paula (thats my name!!) i didnt know it was an old man name in finnish thats hilarious LMAO thank you for telling me this is such a funny fun fact

[panravenc]

a bite of suncake and a sip of jasmine tea by panravenc | 2.5k | domestic fluff, comfort | post-war, no order sixty-six

It's been a long, terrible day. When Obi-Wan returns to his quarters, all he wants is to lay down, drink some tea, and spend time with the love of his life. It's a good thing Cody is there to make sure he gets it.

A/N: For the marathon of CodyWan Comfort Flash Event, yet again. Hosted by @codywancomfort! This truly got out of my hands - I wanted to write a simple drabble, you see. Either way, it is here now. I hope you enjoy it!

[garciapimienta]

https://www.tumblr.com/garciapimienta/783261331709198336/guys-bad-news-someone-unclear-who-from-our

i think that might be iñigo… he looked like he was limping

It was Pau! After the match it came out that he had been playing while sick rip

[festivelyfestive]

SEE. TAKE NOTES. i love little guy!!!!!!!!!! smile emojiiii

[beenreidingaboutyou]

WIP: Another Man’s Jeans

This one’s a song fic based on Another Man’s Jeans by Ashe! (It’s gonna be smut 👀)

[archivingbarca]

pau victor can do better than the grandpa .....

WAIT i forgot about him… but it looks like ferran’s getting subbed on 😭

[whattheheckmidoriya]

Do you think Levi reads? If so what’s his favorite genre? I headcanon him as a poetry lover

AAAAH I READ THE FIRST HALF OF THIS AND WAS LIKE "I THINK HE'D READ POETRY" AND THEN SAW THE SECOND HALF🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

But yes! I think Levi would be slow in finding what he likes to read, considering he never had the opportunity to explore literature in the early years of his life. Life out of the Underground had opened up his world to so many things— things he didn't have much time to delve into because of his new responsibilities. I'd like to think he enjoys poetry because he finds it relaxing. He enjoys the rawness of it— it reminds him of how beautiful and agonizing humanity is. Reading relaxes his soul, winds him down just enough to let some tension fall off his shoulders.

Poetry makes him feel a little bit more human, a little less like a weapon.

[gghostwriter]

Pau your grasp on words is genuinely beautiful. I honestly have a hard time leaving comments sometimes cause I don't think there are any words that could describe how much I adore how you portray things 💕

ket babes, you’re making me blush 💗💗 i appreciate all your comments honestly, warms my heart that you personally took the time 💌

[pixiefelixie]

・❥・(ot8 headcannons) THE GIRLFRIEND EFFECT

summary: in which skz start to abandon their old habits after getting a girlfriend, and their fellow members can only watch in stunned horror as love turns these men soft. the girlfriend effect is real. nobody is safe. cw: profanity, just endless fluff and crack, use of she/her pronouns, pls take the humor with a grain of salt <3

chan - the insomniac king was dethroned

bang chan does not sleep. everyone knows that. 

he goes to bed into the next day—3am, 4am, sometimes not at all—and wakes up looking like he’s been in an emotionally toxic relationship with his pillow. it’s a thing. a legend, even. the morning game among the members is always:

“what time do you think chan slept last night?” “over or under 3am?”

so when he walks into morning dance practice looking… rested?

eyes clear. hoodie on straight. skin dewy. shoulders not hunched like a man carrying the weight of three unfinished tracks.

it’s suspicious.

no one’s said it yet, but the members are all thinking the same thing

seungmin narrows his eyes like he’s solving a mystery. then, slowly, he raises a finger and points directly at chan.

“what time,” he begins, voice slow and ominous, “did you sleep last night?”

it’s the sacred question. normally used to roast him. normally answered with some sleep-deprived groan and a “i don’t know, man.” but this time, it comes out… almost reverent. because the idea of bang chan getting a full night’s sleep is no longer a joke—it’s truth.

chan blinks. like he didn’t expect anyone to ask.

“uh…” he rubs the back of his neck, looking oddly sheepish. “y/n was tired. we kinda crashed around midnight.”

midnight.

midnight.

you could hear a pin drop on the dance floor.

jeongin just stares. mouth slightly open. brain buffering.

“you slept... at midnight?” he echoes.

chan shrugs, trying to play it off—but he can’t hide the way his lips twitch like he’s just a little too proud. “yeah, she knocked out so i didn’t want to wake her.”

“s-so you just… fell asleep? did she drug you or something?”

chan just laughs. “nah, i just like being next to her. it’s… easy to fall asleep.”

jeongin looks like he’s witnessing a crime scene. or maybe a miracle. it’s hard to tell.

“he’s broken,” he whispers, still staring. “she’s broken him.”

seungmin doesn’t even blink. he crosses his arms and says, deadpan, “no. she’s fixed him.”

and that day, for the first time in forever, chan doesn’t yawn once.

minho - “don’t touch my ass.”

minho is many things. dancer. cat dad. human embodiment of strange.

but above all?

he’s a butt hunter.

he will grope, slap, poke, and outright ambush the butts of any member foolish enough to turn their back on him. it's not even weird anymore—it's tradition. part of the culture. a stray kids rite of passage.

so when several days go by with no butt activity? suspicion brews.

jisung is the first to notice. obviously. he passes minho in the hallway and flinches out of habit, or trauma—but nothing. not even a threatening twitch.

it’s unsettling. so unsettling, in fact, that jisung decides to take matters into his own hands.

literally.

the next day, backstage at inkigayo, jisung makes his move.

minho’s facing the mirror, fixing his hair. perfect. jisung creeps up behind him like he’s in a nature documentary.

and then—pat. a clean, respectful grab. 

he waits. silence.

minho blinks at his reflection, then turns around slowly. calmly.

then: “don’t touch my ass.”

jisung chokes. “what?”

minho just stares at him. blank. serious. 

“don’t touch my ass,” he repeats, tone calm but final—like he’s scolding a cat for scratching the couch again.

“are you mad at me? jisung sputters. 

that finally gets minho’s full attention. he sighs, and looks up at jisung like he’s explaining something very simple to a very dumb squirrel.

“no. i’m not mad at you,” he says, voice calm. “it’s not about you.”

jisung blinks, confused and still braced for impact. “then what is it?”

minho shrugs, like it’s obvious. “it’s y/n.”

there’s a pause as jisung tries to keep up.

minho sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck. “like… i wouldn’t love it if other people were grabbing my partner’s ass all the time, even as a joke, you know? and yeah, it’s always been just us messing around, but still. she’s my girlfriend. i wanna be consistent.”

jisung stares. “so… you’re retiring from ass play.”

minho gives him a flat look. “don’t call it that.”

jisung holds up both hands, backing off. “okay, okay. sorry. just—wow. that’s actually kind of sweet. and disturbingly mature.”

“you had a good run. but i’m taken now. full package. including the rear.”

jisung almost falls to his knees.

“she’s corrupted you.”

changbin - “i hope you lose your pump.”

changbin is reliable.

rain or shine, comeback or chaos, he goes to the gym.

it’s not a suggestion. it’s not a routine. it’s a spiritual contract with his biceps. if he skips a day, he complains that he can “feel himself shrinking.” if his members skip leg day, he offers to carry them—and their guilt.

so when he’s not at the gym by 10am, it’s weird. when he’s not at the gym by noon? alarming. and when he’s not at the gym at all?

something is deeply wrong.

minho’s the first to text:

you alive or did you get hit by car 

no reply.

by 2pm, some have migrated to the dorms to check on him in person. they knock. no answer. chan tries the handle—unlocked.

and there he is.

changbin. on the couch. blanket over his legs. one arm around you, the other lazily flipping through netflix. a half-eaten bowl of popcorn on his lap.

he looks up. blinks.

“oh, hey,” he mumbles, clearly still half-asleep. “didn’t hear you come in.”

silence.

you offer a small wave from behind the couch. “hi.”

minho squints. 

“where were you?” chan asks, tone sharp like an accusation.

changbin blinks. “sorry?”

“the gym,” minho says, gesturing wildly. 

changbin furrows his brows. “i don’t remember telling you i was going.”

“you never have to tell us,” chan cuts in, clearly distressed. “you always go. we stopped asking you ages ago.”

“you’re the one who made a whole speech about how ‘discipline is showing up even when you don’t feel like it.’” minho scoffs.

you shift under the blanket slightly, sitting up a bit straighter, and speaking up for the first time since the interrogation began.

“i called him over,” you say simply, voice soft but teasing. “sorry none of you have girls asking to spend time with you.”

minho scoffs. 

changbin chuckles beside you, hand up for a high-five. you slap it, grab another handful of popcorn, and lean back with a smile.

chan shakes his head, but his lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile. “can’t even be mad. you look happy.”

“you’ve changed,” minho says solemnly, but really, he’s proud. “i hope you lose your pump.”

changbin grins. “you’re just jealous.”

they probably are.

hyunjin - “she likes me when i'm low-effort.”

hyunjin doesn’t just get ready. he curates.

every outfit is a look. every look has a theme. necklaces. earrings. scarves. a gentle waft of expensive perfume that smells like whispered poetry.

so when he walks out of his room wearing—

sweatpants. a plain white t-shirt. no versace. no rings. no 12-step skincare glow. just lip balm.

his roommate, changbin, nearly drops his protein shake.

“hold still.” he steps in front of the door, arms spread like he’s blocking a crime scene. “are you really going out like that?”

hyunjin blinks. looks down at himself like he forgot what he put on. then shrugs. “yeah. brunch.”

“with who, your bed?”

“y/n.”

silence.

“you’re going out with your girlfriend, hyunjin.” he says slowly, 

hyunjin tilts his head. “she likes me just fine this way.”

changbin gestures wildly. “you’re wearing sweatpants.”

hyunjin shrugs again, utterly unbothered. “they're clean.”

“and the plain white tee?”

“she said i look cute when i’m low-effort.”

changbin groans like he’s being personally attacked. “do you know how hard i tried to look good the last time i saw a girl? i changed outfits four times and still ended up sweating through my shirt.”

hyunjin just smirks, grabbing his phone off the counter before opening the door. “maybe you should’ve tried less.” he adds casually, before stepping out. “bye.”

and all changbin can do is stand there, shaking his head, whispering.

“she’s changed him.” 

han - his ego took a sick day

jisung milks compliments. he churns them into butter. whips them into frosting. lives off the validation like it’s a multivitamin.

in interviews, when asked who's the funniest? “obviously me.”

best-looking? “me, but hyunjin’s close.”

most talented? “it’s me. i wrote this question.”

you’re at the jyp cafeteria, trays clinking, the hum of trainees and staff in the background as you sit shoulder to shoulder with jisung at a corner table, while hyunjin and felix are across from you.

jisung’s rambling about something—probably a dream, possibly a conspiracy—chopsticks waving as he talks through a mouthful of rice. that’s when you notice it.

a tiny scrap of seaweed. clinging to the edge of his lip.

you lean in just a bit, tapping the side of your own mouth. “right there.”

he pauses, tongue darting out instinctively to swipe the spot along with a flick of his eyes up at you like, did i get it?

and somehow… it’s stupidly attractive.

and it hits you—hard and fast and stupid:

“you’re so handsome,” you murmur.

hyunjin and felix immediately stop eating.

the air stills.

felix sets down his spoon with a slow, almost reverent motion.

hyunjin glances at felix. then at you. then at jisung. they both brace for it.

this is the moment where his ego explodes.

he’s about to say something cocky. something ridiculous like "thank you for the unnecessary comment—everyone already knows that."

but none of that happens.

instead?

jisung freezes.

his chopsticks stop mid-air. his lips part slightly, like the words never formed.

felix and hyunjin exchange a slow, stunned glance across the table, like they’re witnessing something rare and possibly mythical.

jisung clears his throat. forces a tiny smile. not his usual smug grin—something smaller. bashful.

you tilt your head, soft and sincere as you repeat. “you’re really handsome.”

he ducks his head slightly, mumbling, “stop,” but there’s no bite in it.

you grin.

that’s when hyunjin leans forward dramatically, hand cupping his mouth. “i didn’t know you were capable of being humble.”

jisung groans, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth just to avoid talking. “shut up.”

hyunjin smirks. “you’re blushing.”

“i am not.”

felix points. “then why are your ears the color of gochujang?”

jisung throws him a look, cheeks puffed full of rice like a chipmunk. he chews dramatically, swallows, and finally mutters—

“god forbid i get a little flustered when my girlfriend compliments me.”

hyunjin groans dramatically, flopping back in his chair. “she softened him. he’s fully simmered.”

felix sighs into his hands. “remember when he used to call himself ‘sex on legs’ and say we were lucky to know him?”

jisung shovels another spoonful of rice into his mouth. “still true,” he mumbles.

he then looks at you—blushing, with a small smile.

felix - "i’m keeping her on her toes.”

felix is a certified cuddle bug.

he initiates first, always. doesn’t matter the time, the place, or the number of witnesses. if you're standing still for more than five seconds? he’s already wrapped around you like a weighted blanket if it had freckles.

he hugs everyone. back hugs. side hugs. full-body collapse hugs. the man radiates affection like it’s photosynthesis—he needs it to live, and he makes sure everyone else gets a dose too.

but ever since he started dating you…you started playing this little game. felix has decided to become your greatest enemy.

you step into the recording studio with a bright smile, holding iced americanos.

only felix, chan, and jisung today. chan looks up from the mixing board, immediately grinning. “oh, legend. thank you.”

jisung’s in the booth, mid-bar, rapping like his life depends on it.

you walk over to felix, who’s perched on the couch, headphones around his neck, scribbling notes in a lyric sheet. you set the tray of drinks down on the little table beside him, lean down, and press a soft kiss to his cheek.

then, naturally, you slide your arms around him in a casual hug.

he doesn’t move.

no returning squeeze. no snuggle into your shoulder. no dramatic gasp and full koala-mode cling. just him—smiling, smug.

smiling, but not hugging back.

you pull back just enough to pout. “felix. not this again.”

chan glances up from his monitor, brows raised. “what are you doing?”

felix turns to him. “she always expects the hugs. i’m trying to keep her on her toes.”

you groan. “we live for the hugs, felix. there are rules.”

“i know.” he winks. “that’s why i break them.”

chan leans back in his chair, eyes wide like he’s seeing felix for the first time. “you’ve… developed self-control.”

you sigh dramatically, still half in his lap. “unfortunately.”

felix scoffs, poking your side. “don’t act like you’re some poor victim. you dodge me all the time!”

you narrow your eyes. “okay, fine. if you wanna play that game… how about neither of us do anything?”

felix leans back like he’s genuinely considering it. “alright. okay. deal.”

a beat passes. one whole second.

then—

he immediately lunges forward, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. “too late.”

you squeal as he hugs you tight and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, smug and unrepentant.

“felix!” you gasp, laughing. “you lasted one second!”

he grins into your shoulder. “you looked too cute being all serious.”

chan shakes his head from across the room, muttering, “so much for self-control.”

felix shrugs, arms still locked around you. “self-control’s overrated.”

you could only change him so much.

seungmin - no one knows where the savage went

seungmin has the softest little voice. polite. gentle. that kind of light, effortless tone that sounds like it should be used to offer you tea or read bedtime stories. 

but then he opens his mouth and says something like,

“you look like someone who peaked in high school,” with the same tone you'd use to say, have a nice day.

and that’s the seungmin everyone knows—sharp-tongued, savage, and weirdly charming about it. naturally, everyone assumes he’d be the same with a partner. 

you’re sitting with felix and changbin in the practice room when seungmin walks in, sipping his iced tea. he plops down next to you and greets the group with his usual drawl.

as you start unwrapping a protein bar, he eyes it casually and goes, “is that your second one today?”

you nod with a muffled “mhm,” mid-bite.

across from you, changbin freezes—brows raised, lips already curling like he’s bracing for the roast. he’s heard this setup before. he knows seungmin’s usual follow-up. normally, it’s a deadpan jab about how someone eats like a vacuum, or a not-so-subtle fat joke about needing a second lunch just to function. he’s ready.

but instead?

seungmin leans his head slightly toward you, eyes soft. “you like those ones, right? i’ll grab you a couple more next time i’m at the store.”

you blink at him, surprised—but smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “really?”

he nods, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. then reaches over, gives your knee a light pat.

changbin looks offended. “okay, how come you never say stuff like that to me? i’m the one who put her on those protein bars.”

seungmin doesn’t even look up.

“because when you eat, it sounds like a construction site.”

felix loses it, nearly spilling his drink as he doubles over laughing.

changbin gapes, pointing at seungmin. “i chew normally!”

seungmin finally looks up, deadpan. “you breathe heavy before opening a snack.”

you’re gaping at seungmin, caught between shock and laughter. “seungmin.”

he finally cracks—a tiny, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he turns toward you. he opens his mouth just slightly, so, huffing a laugh, you lift the protein bar and hold it up to his mouth.

seungmin bites down on the protein bar, eyes locked on yours—soft, a little smug, but mostly just… fond. like the insult he threw five seconds ago didn’t exist. like you’re the only thing in the room.

felix watches the entire thing unfold from the corner of the couch, straw halfway to his mouth, forgotten.

“somehow,” he mutters to changbin, stunned. “she’s tamed him.”

jeongin - "she's normal"

jeongin is the maknae 💜. and he loves being the maknae.

gets away with things. never has to go first. everyone looks out for him.

but the second one of his members tries to baby him? it’s war.

if hyunjin tries to feed him a spoonful—he glares like he’s been betrayed. if anyone calls him “innie baby”? he files for emotional damages.

he secretly loves the attention, obviously. but he’ll never admit it. not to their faces. not in this lifetime.

so when he walks off stage after the main performance, sweat-damp and glowing, and heads backstage for a breather before the encore, it’s a complete shock when jeongin lets you be touchy. lets you baby him. cause they’ve all tried and failed.

“you did so well, baby,” you say, all soft and proud, hands reaching up to fix the little flyaways at his temple.

even just the pet name “baby” hits the room like a mic drop.

hyunjin physically recoils. 

jeongin just looks at you—shy smile pulling at the corner of his lips—and quietly asks, “you think so?”

you nod immediately. “i know so. you looked amazing out there.”

he blushes, eyes dropping, but he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he leans in a little—like your presence is the calm after the storm.

you cup his cheeks briefly, thumbs brushing just under his eyes. “i’m so proud of you, innie.”

another pet name. another shockwave.

this time, hyunjin can’t help himself. he dramatically stumbles backward like he’s been shot. so of course hyunjin takes it as a challenge.

on his way past, he reaches out and ruffles jeongin’s hair exactly the way he knows jeongin hates—fingers scratchy, deliberately messing it up.

“great job, baby,” hyunjin mocks in a high-pitched voice, grinning.

jeongin flinches immediately.

you laugh, covering your mouth as you watch the chaos unfold.

but hyunjin’s already on a mission.

he swoops in again—arms outstretched for a dramatic hug, lips puckered exaggeratedly as he leans in with a loud, “come here, my innie baby—”

jeongin panics, pushing at his chest with both hands. “get off me!”

hyunjin stumbles back, hand on his heart like he’s been betrayed. “come on! what is this? what does she have that i don’t?”

jeongin doesn’t even hesitate.

“she’s normal,” he deadpans, fixing his hair.

hyunjin staggers like the words physically struck him, hand still pressed to his chest in mock pain.

but jeongin’s already turned back to you—his expression softening, that tiny amused smile curling at his lips. you smile back just as sweetly, eyes crinkling, and he swears his heart does a little somersault.

hyunjin stares, genuinely stunned now, voice low and almost reverent.

“i’m… envious,” he mutters. “you’ve surely done something to him.”

author's note: what if skz did something totally out of character and their members lost their minds over it? i love a man completely changing his personality for a woman. sue me. anyways, thank you for reading this. i really hope you enjoyed it! engagement is appreciated, and feel free to leave some feedback 🫶

[paucubarsisimp]

Hey girl! Could you write for the barca boys and reader after the copa del rey final? It's okay if not! Thanks girly! Love your work (and you ofc) 🫶🏻🫶🏻

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

copa del rey

pairings: pablo gavi x reader,, pedri x reader ferran torres x reader, pau cubarsi x reader, hector fort x reader, alejandro balde x reader, lamine yamal x reader, marc bernal x reader

summary: in which you celebrate barca's win with your boyfriend

warnings: none!

a/n: i hope you like it angel <333

୨ৎ pablo gavi

the second the final whistle blew, pablo didn’t think—he just ran.

he barely heard the stadium erupt, barely saw the confetti raining down. all he knew was that they’d done it. they’d actually won the copa del rey. and somewhere in the chaos, you were watching.

his boots hit the sideline hard as he shoved past a camera, didn’t even bother looking for someone to wave to. all he cared about was you.

and when he saw you, standing just behind the barrier with wide eyes and a hand over your mouth, he nearly knocked someone over climbing toward you.

“you—” he started, breathless, and then he just grabbed you.

his arms wrapped around you so tight it was like he was trying to pull you into him, and you gasped a little, laughing as he buried his face in your neck.

“we fucking did it,” he muttered, voice shaking with adrenaline, lips brushing your skin.

“you did it,” you whispered back, hands fisting in the back of his jersey. “you were insane out there.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, chest rising and falling fast. then suddenly he was kissing you—hard, hungry, like he hadn’t seen you in weeks, like the win didn’t mean a thing without this part.

you barely had time to breathe before he kissed you again, hands in your hair, body pressed flush against yours.

“i swear to god,” he said between kisses, “i was on that pitch thinking about you the whole fucking time.”

“pablo—” you started, but he cut you off with another kiss, messier this time.

“no, listen,” he insisted, forehead pressed to yours, voice low. “you’re it. not the trophy. not the crowd. just you.”

he kissed you again—short, sharp, like a full stop—then wrapped his arms around you again and lifted you off the ground.

“you’re insane,” you whispered, grinning.

“you love it,” he shot back, smirking.

you did.

especially when he growled in your ear, “come home with me. i want you in my hoodie, in my bed, like now.”

you didn’t even answer. you just kissed him like he’d kissed you—aggressive, all teeth and love and pride.

because yeah. he won a trophy.

but tonight? you were what he’d come running for.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ .✦

୨ৎ pedri

the moment the final whistle blew, everything felt like a dream. barcelona had won. 3–2. your heart was still racing, but all your thoughts were tangled up in one person—pedri.

you barely noticed the noise, the fireworks, the celebration. your eyes were only on him. his jersey was damp with sweat, hair messy from the match, and a smile on his face that could melt the sun. he looked around the pitch until his eyes found yours—and just like that, the world went quiet.

he jogged toward you, cheeks flushed pink, and opened his arms without a word. you were in them a second later, burying your face into his chest, breathing him in like you were trying to slow time.

“you did it,” you whispered, clutching the back of his jersey.

he laughed softly, breathless. “i scored one goal and almost lost my mind when it went in.”

you pulled back just enough to see his face. “it wasn’t just any goal, pedri. it was beautiful. it was perfect.”

he shrugged shyly, eyes flicking down to your lips. “it was for you. i saw you in the stands just before i hit it. figured if i was gonna score in a final… it had to be something special.”

your chest ached in the best way. “you’re so stupidly sweet, i don’t even know what to do with you.”

“you keep loving me, maybe?” he teased, his voice soft and warm.

you stood on your toes to kiss him, slow and sweet. the kind of kiss that tasted like relief, pride, and something close to forever. when you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his.

“this is the happiest i’ve ever been,” you whispered.

“me too,” he said, squeezing your waist. “i know the trophy’s nice and all, but this right here? you in my arms? this is the real win.”

you let out a tiny laugh, leaning into his touch. “god, you’re going to make me cry.”

“then i’m doing it right.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ .✦

୨ৎ ferran torres

the locker room was loud—music blasting, champagne spraying, laughter echoing off the walls. jerseys were half-on, socks forgotten, and medals already tangled in the chaos. but ferran looked like he belonged in all of it. like joy was made for him.

you stood by the doorway for a moment, just watching.

he caught sight of you through the blur of bodies, and his entire face lit up. sweaty, flushed, grinning from ear to ear—he crossed the room in a few long strides and pulled you into his arms without a word.

“you smell like celebration,” you teased into his neck.

he laughed, not letting go. “i smell like victory.”

“same thing tonight.”

he pulled back just enough to press a quick, smiling kiss to your lips before a teammate shoved a beer into his hand and dragged him back into the circle of dancing. you stayed close, leaning against the wall, watching him sway and shout along to the songs with the others—an arm always reaching back to find you when he could.

he looked over his shoulder mid-chorus and mouthed, i love you.

you mouthed it back, warmth blooming in your chest.

at one point, gavi wrapped an arm around you both and yelled, “can you believe this guy?” like ferran wasn’t grinning ear to ear and glowing under the locker room lights. you just nodded and said, “yeah. i really can.”

you ended up on the floor beside him, backs against a bench, sharing a half-eaten box of pizza someone brought in. the trophy was only a few feet away, sitting crooked on a pile of towels.

“do you ever get used to this?” you asked softly, resting your head on his shoulder.

“the winning?” he shrugged. “maybe. but not this part. you being here. that never gets old.”

you smiled against his hoodie. “even when i steal your pizza?”

“especially then.”

you didn’t need a perfect moment. this mess of laughter, grease-stained medals, and your legs tangled with his on a locker room floor was more than enough.

he turned to you, voice quieter now. “you’re my favorite part of all this, you know?”

you just nodded, because honestly? he was yours too

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ .✦

୨ৎ pau cubarsi

the locker room was a blur—shouting, singing, shirts being thrown, someone trying to use the trophy as a drum. but pau wasn’t in the middle of it. he was off to the side, still in his boots, sitting on a bench with flushed cheeks and his medal resting quietly on his chest.

you found him there, a small, tired smile pulling at his lips. he looked up when he saw you, eyes soft, like they always were with you.

“hola,” he said gently, voice barely rising above the chaos around him.

you knelt in front of him, hands resting on his knees. “hola, campeón.”

pau let out a quiet laugh, dipping his head. “no digas eso…”

“why not?” you smiled. “you were amazing.”

he shrugged a little, cheeks warming. “i just did my job.”

“no, amor. you played with heart. you played like you were born for nights like this.”

he looked at you for a long second, then took your hands in his, thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “it felt… right. everything. the way we played. the way we didn’t give up. and knowing you were here… watching…”

“always,” you whispered. “always watching you. always proud.”

he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his voice low and honest. “i kept thinking… if we win, i get to share this with you. and that made it all feel even more real.”

you reached up, fingers brushing over the curve of his jaw. “we’re gonna remember this night forever.”

pau smiled softly. “sí. but not because of the trophy.”

“because of what?”

“because of you,” he said simply.

you kissed him then, slow and sweet, and when you pulled back, he was still holding your hands like he never wanted to let go.

someone shouted his name across the room, and a sweaty teammate tossed him a beer with terrible aim. pau caught it, just barely, and turned back to you with a sheepish grin.

“ven,” he said, tugging you up gently. “celebra conmigo.”

and so you did—dancing a little, laughing with the team, fingers laced with his all night long.

and in the middle of the wild celebration, you stayed wrapped in something quiet, something unshakable.

his hands, his smile, his love.

just like him—soft. strong. and yours.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ .✦

୨ৎ hector fort

the moment you stepped into the locker room, you were hit with music, sweat, laughter, and the smell of victory. someone had already popped champagne, jerseys were half-off, and there, right in the middle of it all — was hector.

he was dancing like nobody was watching. loose limbs, big grin, surrounded by teammates who were just as chaotic. someone handed him a flag and he spun around, arms in the air, looking like the happiest person in the world.

and then he saw you.

“mi amor!” he shouted over the music, dropping the flag and jogging toward you. before you could say anything, he wrapped you up in his arms, spinning you around in a half-dizzy circle that made both of you laugh.

“you’re actually crazy,” you said, breathless.

“crazy in love,” he joked, forehead against yours, still grinning like a kid on his birthday. “did you see us? we did it.”

“i saw,” you whispered, brushing back his damp curls. “you were brilliant. and very, very sweaty.”

“don’t pretend you don’t love it,” he teased, pressing a fast, celebratory kiss to your cheek.

you stayed in his arms while the room moved around you — more singing, more drinks, someone trying to pour water on kounde from the top of a bench. hector held your hand and pulled you back into the center.

“come dance with me,” he said.

“i don’t know these moves,” you laughed, but he was already spinning you.

“doesn’t matter. just be here with me.”

and so you danced — badly, joyfully — with your champion. every now and then, he’d shout something to a teammate, then come right back to you, tugging you close like you were the prize he was really proud of.

later, when the locker room calmed and his voice was nearly gone from shouting, he wrapped his hoodie around your shoulders and kissed you like no one else existed.

“thank you for being part of this,” he whispered.

you smiled. “you make it easy to love every second.”

and in a night full of flashing lights and loud celebration, the way he held your hand was the part you’d remember forever.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ .✦

୨ৎ alejandro balde

the moment the final whistle blew, everything exploded. the stadium was a blur of blue and garnet, fans screaming, confetti raining down. but in the midst of the madness, you spotted him — alejandro, already grinning like a kid on christmas.

he was dancing with a few of the guys, completely lost in the moment, the joy of victory contagious. you couldn’t help but laugh at how carefree he was, his body moving to the beat of a song that was barely even in tune. his energy was pure, a beautiful chaos that made it impossible not to smile.

when he finally saw you, he broke away from the crowd, arms wide open. “¡mi amor!” he shouted, laughing as he scooped you up into a tight hug, spinning you around like the whole stadium wasn’t watching.

“you’re insane,” you giggled, breathless from the spinning.

“i’m in love,” he teased, pulling you even closer, his grin wide enough to light up the whole locker room. “we won! we actually won!”

you laughed, shaking your head. “i see that. i’m starting to think you enjoy this more than the match.”

“that’s because i’ve been dreaming about this moment,” he said, his tone playful yet sincere. “winning, yes. but having you here to share it with me — that’s the real victory.”

he kissed you quickly, in the middle of the locker room frenzy, not caring who was around. when he pulled back, you couldn’t help but smile at the way his eyes sparkled, the excitement still dancing in them.

“okay, okay, i need you to dance with me now,” alejandro said, his hand grabbing yours as he dragged you into the center of the locker room.

“wait, what?” you laughed, trying to keep up with his pace.

“it’s not a celebration without a little chaos,” he winked, twirling you under his arm.

you were laughing, stumbling slightly as he twirled you again, his energy infecting you like a fire. every teammate had gathered around now, and it felt like you were in the middle of the most joyful, spontaneous moment of your life.

when the music finally slowed and the crowd thinned out, alejandro pulled you close again, a quieter, softer smile on his face.

“thanks for being with me, cariño,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours.

“always,” you whispered, your heart full of happiness.

and in that wild, unfiltered celebration, you realized that this was exactly what you wanted — him, his joy, and his love.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ .✦

୨ৎ lamine yamal

the locker room was bursting with excitement — music, cheers, teammates shouting, and a constant buzz of energy. but in the middle of all that, lamine stood out in the most endearing way: wide-eyed, cheeks flushed with excitement, and a huge grin spread across his face.

he was a ball of energy, dancing and jumping around with his teammates like a kid in a candy store. yet, when he saw you, his whole face lit up, and without hesitation, he rushed over to you.

“you saw that, right?” he asked, bouncing on his feet, still vibrating with excitement.

“i saw,” you laughed, watching him with affection. “you were amazing out there.”

lamine’s grin only grew bigger as he pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off the ground for a moment in the purest, most joyful embrace.

“we did it!” he exclaimed, his voice full of awe. “we won the copa del rey!”

you chuckled at his enthusiasm. “yeah, we did. and you were incredible out there.”

he pulled back slightly, but his arms stayed around you, his hands resting gently on your back. “i kept thinking about how i wanted to share this with you,” he said, his voice quieter, a little more sincere. “i wanted to make you proud.”

“you already did,” you whispered, ruffling his hair. “you make me proud every day.”

his face softened at your words, his hands slipping down to hold yours. “can we stay here a little longer? just the two of us?” he asked, eyes shining like he was asking for a secret moment amidst all the chaos.

“of course,” you smiled, squeezing his hands. “let’s enjoy the moment.”

the locker room continued to swirl around you, but in that little corner, it felt just like the two of you, wrapped in the quiet joy of the win. lamine kept glancing over at you, his eyes full of affection, and every time you met his gaze, his smile seemed to grow even brighter.

“this is the best day,” he said, his voice full of happiness as he pulled you into a small, spontaneous dance.

“it’s a pretty good day,” you agreed, laughing as he twirled you around.

and in that moment, surrounded by the noise and the celebration, it was clear: you and lamine were creating a memory that would last forever, just the two of you, with your hearts full of joy.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ .✦

୨ৎ marc bernal

the locker room was alive with celebration — teammates were dancing, laughing, and singing as they reveled in the copa del rey victory. the sound of popping champagne and joyous shouts filled the air, but in the midst of it all, marc stood with a calm but content smile, his crutches leaning against the wall beside him. he hadn’t played, but you could see the pride in his eyes.

he had been injured and sidelined, but none of that mattered now. he was part of the victory, part of the team, his heart bursting with pride for his friends who had fought so hard to bring home the trophy.

you walked over to him, your heart swelling as you met his gaze. despite not being on the pitch, his joy was palpable. as soon as he saw you, that soft, warm smile grew even wider.

“we did it, huh?” marc said, his voice full of that same warmth that always made you feel at home.

“we did,” you agreed, stepping closer. “and you were just as much a part of this win as anyone else.”

he shook his head, still smiling, but his eyes held a touch of vulnerability. “i didn’t play. i didn’t contribute like the others.”

“marc,” you gently cupped his cheek, “you’ve been a part of this team in every way. your spirit, your energy — it’s felt. you are a huge part of this win.”

his expression softened, and he reached out, pulling you into a tight hug. “thank you for saying that,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “i just wanted to be out there with them. but… being here with you, knowing they won for us — it’s enough.”

you squeezed him back, resting your head against his shoulder. “it’s more than enough, marc. i’m so proud of you.”

he pulled back slightly, still holding you close. “i know i’m not the one out there celebrating on the field, but this… being here with you, sharing this moment with you — this is everything.”

you smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “we’ll celebrate it our way. together.”

marc smiled softly, his eyes lighting up with gratitude. “sounds perfect to me.”

and just like that, in the midst of the chaos, you both shared a quiet, perfect moment. no need for grand gestures or loud celebrations — just marc, you, and the soft joy of knowing that victory had been shared in a way that felt right to both of you.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added!

[emmylksblog]

MY WARRIOR // PAU CUBARSÍ

summary: after pau gets injured during a match, you do everything you can to support him, even if he gave you the scare of your life

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: none, just mentions of blood and the injury not too descriptive

a/n: been in my drafts since it happened, now it's proofread i guess. am i wrong if i say he's hot in that pic? like i know he's injured but who gave him the right to look this good with smeared blood all over his face omg

You already had a feeling today wasn’t going to go well. You’d woken up late, barely made it to your exam, and it went terribly despite all the nights you spent studying. To make things worse, your week was just starting and you still had another exam on Thursday. Frustrated, you left university early to rest a bit before continuing to study… only to find out the buses were on strike. Your phone was at 5%, and it felt like the universe was laughing in your face. Desperate, you called a friend, and thankfully, they picked up and offered to take you home. Once there, you showered, ate, and passed out on your bed for what you thought would be a short nap…

3 hours later…

You woke up groggy, the kind of nap that feels more like getting hit by a truck. Your phone, now charging, buzzed nonstop. You grabbed it, heart racing when you saw it was Fermín calling, as it was very unusual for him to call instead of texting. You answered immediately, still disoriented, and waited in silence for him to speak. A chill ran down your spine.

“Hey, just calling to let you know Pau had to get stitches on his face. He tried calling you before going in, but you didn’t answer, so I thought I should try.”

Your brain froze. What?

“What happened to him?!” you asked, voice rising in panic as you rushed to get dressed, putting him on speaker. Fermín explained that during the match against Estrella Roja, a player went straight for Pau’s face instead of the ball, cutting him along the jaw with his boots. By the time he finished talking, you were already in a taxi headed to the hospital he mentioned.

Your heart was pounding. You kept picturing Pau, your strong boyfriend who always smiled, covered in blood and scared. The thought of him being alone in that room made you feel sick. If only you hadn’t fallen asleep… maybe you could’ve been there to calm him down. According to Fermín, only the team’s staff had been able to go with him; his parents were still in Girona and wouldn´t make it on time till tomorrow.

Your footsteps echoed down the sterile hospital hallway until you reached the room. The moment you stepped in, your whole body tensed. Pau was lying in bed, half his face bandaged, the other still stained with blood. Your heart dropped. And yet, he smiled at you.

You couldn’t believe it. He was smiling.

In two quick steps, you were at his side, pulling him into a tight hug as tears streamed down your face.

“Stop smiling, idiot… it’s only gonna hurt more,” you sobbed, running your hand down his back. You could feel his jersey under your touch and were relieved that he came straight from the game.

“I’m fine, love… it’s just a scratch. Comes with the job, you know that,” he whispered into your ear, struggling to speak but still trying to comfort you.

“Pau, don’t try to calm me down when you’re the one looking like this,” you said, pulling back to meet his eyes, barely holding back your tears. Pau didn’t respond, maybe because he agreed, maybe because his jaw hurt too much.

The team staff member came in with the doctor’s update: Pau needed rest and shouldn’t chew anything hard for a while to avoid reopening the stitches. You paid close attention, determined to follow every instruction once you got him home.

You ended up going to Pau’s place, you already had clothes and essentials there from the nights you stayed over. While he took a shower, you got to work making soup so he wouldn’t have to chew.

You expected to feel his arms wrap around you from behind like he always did, but that hug never came. When you turned around, drying your hands, you saw him sitting on the couch, head down, hands fidgeting.

The energy in the room had sunk into the floor. You’d never seen Pau this sad. Always smiling, always keeping it together. But you knew the real him, the one who carried more than he ever let on. And you knew he struggled to show vulnerability, even with you.

You walked over quietly, knelt in front of him, and gently took his hands to stop their anxious movements.

“Pau… look at me,” you said softly.

He winced at your voice, shutting his eyes tightly, like he was bracing for impact. But you just watched him with your heart aching, seeing him fight back the tears like always. You’d told him before that it was okay to be vulnerable with you, that you’d carry each other’s burdens. But he never wanted to be a weight on anyone.

“You can cry, Pau,” you whispered, your brow furrowed as your own tears welled up.

He gripped your hands tightly, then slowly slid off the couch and into your arms, burying his face in your neck. You froze for a moment, not expecting him to let go so quickly. Then you wrapped him tightly in your arms, brushing his hair gently and whispering how brave he was, how proud you were of him.

“You’re a warrior, Pau. Barça wouldn’t be what it is without players like you. I know you live for the colors, and I admire that, but I hope this helps you see it’s okay to be careful too. Think of yourself, just a little.”

You pulled back gently, cupped his face carefully, and looked into his teary eyes to make sure he heard you loud and clear. My poor baby.

“Don’t say anything, okay? Your jaw must be swollen. I’ll get you some ice later,” you said when he tried to respond. “Tonight, your only job is to say yes or no to my excellent nursing services 'kay?”

He almost smiled, but winced at the pain. You chuckled.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop being funny for your sake,” you teased, giving him a kiss on the nose, then one on his uninjured cheek. You leaned in slowly and kissed the stitched side too, praying it didn’t hurt. Pau exhaled deeply, like he’d needed that more than anything.

He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and looked at you with so much love, then pointed at himself, then you, and made a heart with his hands.

“I love you.” You understood instantly and melted right there.

“I love you too, idiot. Even if your way of playing scares the hell out of me.”

You kissed him gently on the lips, careful not to hurt him, but when he kissed back, you leaned in with more confidence, your hands on his chest and his on your waist. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his and stroked his neck, listening to his calm breathing. His grip on your waist tightened with affection, and you wiped the rest of his tears away.

Remembering the doctor’s instructions, you took his hands and guided him to let go.

“I know it’s hard to let go of me,” you joked, smiling when he resisted. “But I’ve gotta check the soup. I’ll be fast.”

Pau nodded, already missing your warmth. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you. You reminded him of who he was, something easy to forget in moments like this. He thought you were perfect for him.

He smiled softly at the thought, interrupted when you returned with a tray: a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and his meds.

“Alright, pretty boy, I hope you finish this as fast as you throw yourself into tackles on the field,” you joked, sitting down next to him on the carpet.

“Thank you,” he whispered, trying not to move his jaw too much.

“De nada, amor. Want me to help?”

He shook his head, took the spoon from your hand, and kissed it as if saying 'don't-worry-i-got-it'.

After a quiet, comforting dinner, you both headed upstairs to sleep. You changed into your usual “pajamas”, a pair of shorts and one of Pau’s black Nike shirts. You breathed in his scent like it was medicine.

In the bathroom, you found him wincing every time his toothbrush brushed the left side of his mouth. He turned and winked at you when he noticed you watching.

“I can’t imagine how much that hurts, and you’re still brushing your teeth? You know I’ll love you even if your breath stinks, right?” you teased, grabbing your pink toothbrush and gently nudging him with your hip.

Pau chuckled lowly at your antics, turning his head with a small, pained smile.

After doing your little silly dances in front of the mirror, you both rinsed and headed to bed, Pau wrapping his arms around you from behind on the way.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispered in your ear. He loved how his t-shirts looked on you, it drove him crazy. He would’ve shown you just how much he would love to see you without it, but with how exhausted he was, he settled for soft kisses that didn’t hurt too much.

Snuggled up in bed, with him still holding you from behind, you both warmed up instantly under the covers. Taking advantage of the position, Pau gently moved your hair aside and placed little kisses on the back of your neck. It tickled, but you tried not to move too much, though you couldn't hold in the giggle. He loved that sound when it came from you.

“I love you,” he said after pressing his lips to your neck a little longer. It sounded so genuine it made your chest tighten with emotion. You turned around to face him and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you too, mi guerrero,” you murmured, resting your head on his chest, enjoying the way his hands instinctively wrapped around you. He turned off the light and tucked you in better, caressing your back in the process. (my warrior)

Pau knew that with you by his side, he could throw himself a thousand more times on the field without fear, because no matter what, you’d be there, supporting him. And you were just as sure that you would do it again and again, even if it meant worrying about him.

[barcapix]

maybe can you do one wear cubarsi always wears readers hairband on his wrist during training and during matches and everyone teases him for it but he does not care and he gets asked about it in a press conference after a game and he says it’s his girlfriends and says how much he loves you.

sorry this is a bit long but I wanted to help you as much as possible with detail please don’t stop writing your work is so good. Thank you for your time.

✮ Hairband Habit - Pau Cubarsí

pau cubarsi x fem!reader

sy: who knew everyone would be fussed about a simple hairband? apparently not pau.

a/n: STOP I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. neverrr be sorry thank you gorg🫶🏼🫶🏼 (this is very same-y my apologies)

warnings: use of y/n ig and a lil cringe but ?

“eww what’s that on your wrist?”

lamine waddles over to smack pau on the back of the head, crouching down to sit next to him.

the locker room is eerie, quiet, and all the other players are giving their post-match interviews; pau had his in only a couple of minutes.

“a hairband,” the boy says plainly.

“hm, didn’t know you had hair long enough to use that,” lamine teases, jolting him by his arm. “you always wear that thing, ever take it off?”

“by now i’m sure he showers with it on,” gavi introduces, sliding across the floor in socks; fermin besides him, laughs.

pau rolls his eyes, sending a slight blow to lamine’s ankle with his cleets. “and if i do?”

the three other guys howl into laughter, thrumming their chests with their palms as they laugh relentlessly.

“if you do—” fermin stops to chuckle. “then we’d all call you fucking insane.”

alejandro walks by, swinging a damp towel around his shoulder, his gaze travelling down to the band. “oye pau, what’s that?”

“his soulmate,” pablo answers before pau can. “have you not heard? since his girlfriend gave it to him, it’s been glued to his wrist.”

lamine coughs. “and it makes me wanna vomit.”

cubarsi glares at the pair, but he doesn’t say anything.

“or maybe it’s like a secret tracker,” fermin jokes, exchanging a handshake with pablo. “his girlfriends making sure he doesn’t get too comfortable.”

gavi hums thoughtfully. “you think he kisses it before bed?”

“a thousand percent,” balde jumps in, leaning against his locker with a grin. “maybe even talks to it too? when y/n isn’t around.”

pau groans, slumping up against his own locker, absentmindedly fussing with the tie. “you’re all like a walking headache.”

“if being a walking headache means we get to taunt you then hell yeah,” ale chokes out, lobbing an empty bottle his way.

oh thank god, for pedri.

“hey pau, your up,” pedri announces through the doorframe in his sliders, padding up to the huddle of boys. “what’s going on?”

lamine sing-songs. “pau’s a loverboy.”

“..thanks guys that’s my cue to leave,” pau says with a tired grimace, lifting up and weaving his way past them.

“good luck mi enamorado,” pablo hollers, hands either side of his mouth. “don’t trip over her hairtie on the way out!”

cubarsi shakes his head, pinching at his jersey from clinging to his body. it only takes seconds to reach the setting.

“hola cubarsi,” the woman behind the mic greets, hovering the mic below his mouth. “first of all, how are you feeling after such a dominating win?”

cubarsi nods. “i feel good. a little tired, but i’m glad we could get an easy win again.”

the journalist slowly nods to process his words, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“and what about the upcoming matches?”

“hm,” he licks at his lips and clears his throat. “motivated, if you can say that,” pau laughs. “i have full confidence in our team—no matter who the opponent is.”

“ah, well thank you,” she says softly.

her beady eyes drop to the hairtie resting snugly on his wrist, something incredibly not his.

“i have to say, nice bracelet,” she commentates, a little teasing edge to her tone. “do you use it for motivation when on the pitch?”

pau blinks in confusion. was it that obvious? not that it matters much whether it was mentioned, but it was too skeptical on its own.

then, it clicks.

he exhales through his nose. “you’ve been talking to the others then huh?”

she chuckles. “it’s just a question.”

pau can practically hear gavi and lamine giggling about it back in the locker rooms, pushing and shoving eachother at their not-so-very-smart plan.

he tilts his head slightly, biting the inside of his cheek, which happened to be flushed from a minor embarrassment.

“its not mine. its my girlfriends,” the boy raises his brows. “she always forgets to bring hair ties with her, so i carry it just incase.”

she coos. “awh. it seems like you have a very sweet relationship with—what’s her name?”

pau smiles at the mention of you. “y/n.”

“with, y/n,” she corrects. “what is she to you?”

“i consider her my lucky charm,” he admits truthfully. he doesn’t care that he’s possibly humiliating himself on live tv right now.

the woman nods along, her eyes flickering every so often behind him.

“and in times when y’know.. she can’t come to matches, i like to keep her band on my wrist. it reminds me of her,” pau exhales, his shoulders dropping in ease.

“that’s very sweet of you cubarsi,” she says sincerely, her eyes wrinkling with joy. “i take it you’re the romantic one in the relationship.”

pau blushes, scratching the back of his neck. “sometimes.”

“well, that’s all i have for you today,” she confides, nodding at her camera crew. “enjoy your rest pau, you’re gonna need it for the next match.”

they both exchange a brief, “gracias,” as she walks off to the left, and cubarsi makes way to the right.

that is, until he hears someone behind him.

“that is very sweet of you cubarsi.”

pau stops dead in his tracks, his head snaps up at the sound of your voice.

its you, of course its you.

stood with your hands in your pockets, his jersey that happened to be a smidge too big, wearing that lovesick smile on your face, which had his heart skip no matter how many times he sees it.

pau reaches you within an instant, looping his hands around your back. “i didn’t think you could make it.”

“well here i am,” you jeer. “i wanted to see this whole sentimental pau cubarsi everyone’s talking about.”

“you sound just like them,” he mumbles, reaching for your lips. “you’re supposed to be on my side.”

as if it were a punishment, he peppers mellow, warm kisses along your fevered skin, as you squirm with laughter beneath his hold.

you squeal, hands coming up to shield your face. “cariño!”

“mhm?” he grins, still chasing your cheeks with small kisses. “i’ve been listening to those idiots all day, and then you—mocking me in my own jersey?”

you giggle, grabbing ahold of his wrists to refrain him. “i wasn’t mocking you. i was admiring.”

he ushers a breathy laugh. “remind me to never let you near gavi again.”

“it was an innocent compliment!” you defend, chewing on your bottom lip. “no harm done right?”

“oh no—there’s harm done,” pau quips. “i’ve been bullied all day because of you.”

“well if you don’t wanna get bullied again,” you take a peek behind his shoulder, lips slyly curled. “i’d get moving because it looks like your fan-club is running after you.”

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

[coolemmasulivan2]

Not Alone

Pairing: Pedri x Reader

Summary: You're at the stadium, after Spain Vs Portugal, and your daughter just can't keep still.

Word count: 747

Eres como el sol, sales sin razón (Sales sin razón) Dando luz y calma Una sola flor que me guardo yo Y tu voz que me desarma

You sat in the stands, surrounded by his family, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Portugal had won, and the stadium buzzed with cheers and celebration, but your eyes were fixed on Pedri.

He stood on the field, shoulders low, talking quietly with Pau. You could see the heartbreak etched into every line of his face. So close, but so far.

Your daughter, curled up on your lap in her little Spain jersey, fidgeted restlessly. Her wide eyes were glued to her father, tracking every movement, every twitch of his mouth, every clench of his jaw.

"Hey, it's okay, baby." You whispered gently into her ear. "Daddy's okay."

She didn't react, didn't even blink at the sound of your voice. Her little legs started kicking faster, her body buzzing with anxious energy.

Fer, sitting beside you, reached over and scooped her into his lap with practiced ease. "Banana?" He said, using the nickname he'd given her after she discovered her love for the fruit, just like her father.

"Sí?" She answered, but her gaze didn't shift.

"Mírame, Banana." He gently turning her chin. But she wriggled away, eyes flicking right back to Pedri. (Look at me, Banana.)

Fer shot you a look, helpless, and you shrugged.

"She can't see him like that. She gets… nervous. It's like she feels it too, even if she doesn't understand it."

Pedri's mother, seated on the other side of Fer, smiled softly. "She's just like him. Pedro was the same when he was little. If Fer came home upset, Pedro wouldn't eat. He'd pace around the house until he knew his big brother was okay." You smiled faintly, brushing a curl from your daughter's forehead.

Just then, the Spanish team began walking through the tunnel of Portuguese players, heads held high despite the sting of defeat. The crowd rose in applause, a standing ovation for a good match.

Your daughter stood from Fer's lap, tryinh to see through the sea of bodies. She wore her own jersey with number 20 and the word Daddy printed on the back.

"Mami?" She called, arms lifted. Everyone around her felt like giants. (Mommy?)

"Ven aquí, mi amor." You scooped her up and stood with her in your arms, while she clapped for the both of you. (Come here, baby.)

But Pedri didn't glance toward the stands. His eyes stayed on the grass, the weight of the moment pulling him down.

As the Spanish team turned toward the tunnel, shoulders hunched and eyes down, the applause began to die down. You shifted your daughter in your arms, thinking she just wanted a better view, but as soon as her feet touched the floor, she was off.

"Banana--!"

She slipped between the other familis and the barrier without hesitation, tiny sneakers hitting the grass as she ran.

"¡Papá!"

Her voice cut through the noise, high and clear and heartbreakingly small.

Pedri's head jerked up.

You were already halfway down the steps behind her, your heart pounding. He turned toward the sound, scanning, confused, until he saw her, sprinting across the field.

"¡Papá!" she called again.

The staff made no move to stop her. Or they recognized her just or they simply thought what threat could such a little girl actully do.

Pedri dropped to his knees as she crashed into him, her little arms wrapping tight around his neck.

He held her like she was the only thing keeping him upright. "I'm okay." He whispered, though you couldn’t hear it from where you stood. "Estoy bien, princesa. Todo está bien." (I’m okay, princesa. It’s okay.)

She cupped his face in both her hands, like she'd seen you do before. "Don't be sad, Daddy." She told him. "You played so good."

He pulled her into his chest, holding her like she was something sacred. Carrying her, Pedri walked toward you, his steps slower now, but steady. His gaze didn't drop this time. It stayed locked on you, like you were the only person in the world.

When he reached you, he didn't say anything, just leaned in and kissed you.

You let your hand rest at the back of his neck. "You were amazing." You whispered against his skin. "I’m so proud of you."

He nodded once, eyes closing briefly. "Pensé que lo teníamos." He said. (I thought we had it.)

"Lo sé." You murmured. (I know.)

Between you, your daughter yawned. Pedri kissed the top of her head, then yours.

"We're going home." He said softly.

[httpsdana]

hey girllll! Could you write something about jealous cuba🥰 the request is a little long and could be confusing😭

So basically reader and pau have been secretly dating for like a year or so (only lamine and hector know) and they have been in the same friend group since they’re little, yk like all of the la masia kids that are around cubas age (lamine, hector, marc,..) and one night they decided to go out to have dinner together, like hector with his gf and all of the other! And one of their friend is kinda flirty towards reader and pau gets all jealous and everything but he can’t really anything because not everybody knows!

The Secret of Us~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

The restaurant buzzed with laughter, as the La Masia group filled one of the tables. They had decided to visit their friend Marc Guiu, who had transferred to London in the summer, and to spend their New Year's Eve there.

y/n sat beside Pau, their fingers brushing against each other under the table, a reminder of the little secret they hid from everyone at the table–everyone beside Lamine and Hector.

Everyone was joking around, enjoying each other's presence. Pau sat quietly, talking when necessary and laughing at the jokes. Before one of the guys at the table caught his attention with his words.

“so, y/n” he started, making all heads turn to him. “have you always looked this pretty or is it something new? Did you change your hair maybe?”

Pau's eyebrows furrowed as his grip on her thigh tightened.

y/n laughed slightly at his words before answering him. “same old, nothing new here”

“So you've always been this glowy when we go out huh? Are you sure nothing has changed?” the guys teased, making Lamine and Hector look at each other with a knowing look

“thank you for the compliment, but I assure you I'm still the same” she chuckled, feeling her cheeks burn up at the attention she was receiving from everyone

“Come on, dude. Choose another girl to hit on” Lamine joked, but he noticed Pau's tense body and his angry face.

“I'm just telling the truth” their friend said, giving y/n a wink before Hector changed the subject quickly.

Pau sat there quietly, not saying anything for the rest of the dinner, even when y/n asked him if he was okay, he just nodded his head and looked away.

As the group left the restaurant, they decided to walk around the city of London for a while.

While every two or three people walked by each other's side, y/n waited for Pau to walk beside her behind the rest.

“Is everything okay? you were too quiet in there” she asked, brushing her fingers against his on purpose.

“you look beautiful always, why did he have to say it randomly at dinner?” he huffed, making y/n's lips twitch up in a smile.

“you're mad about that?” she grinned, nudging his shoulder playfully.

“No, I'm mad that no one can know that you're mine,” he pouted, making her heart flutter.

“me and you both know that I'm yours. no one has to know for it to be true” she held his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“I know but it's just…all I wanted to do in there was kiss you just so he would back off” Pau confessed, making her giggle slightly.

“well you can still kiss me now” she suggested, making him look down at her with a grin.

They stopped walking, waiting for the group to get further ahead of them. He reached over to cradle her face, his big hands holding her cheeks as his thumb ran over her bottom lip.

Without hesitation he leaned down, kissing her deeply, pouring out all his jealousy into this kiss.

He pulled back to take a breath, before leaning down once again, except this time they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. They pulled away quickly, only to see Lamine standing there with a smirk.

“we're waiting for you two. you're lucky Hector managed to keep the others busy while you two kissed each other's faces off” he pulled a disgusted face, making Pau shove him away playfully.

“let's go amor” Pau reached for her hand, pulling her with them.

“lets go amor” Lamine mimicked him while pulling a funny face, making y/n burst into laughter while Pau groaned next to her.

“you two are insufferable” he shook his head, though the smile never left his face as they joined the rest of their friends, the secret of them still hidden from the world.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaa @f1lover55 (lmk if you want to be added!!)