haaaattrickk

[haaaattrickk]

Ahhh!! Ur dean fic was soooo good!! would you be able to write any more for him or desire doue?? 🙏

yess! I'm actually finishing another one I have for Dean!!

[haaaattrickk]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: dean huijsen x reader!

𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌: Emilia Mernes (I love her sm)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: During a golden Spanish sunset at a lively music festival, Real Madrid’s rising star Dean Huijsen finds himself at the center of unexpected attention—not just from fans, but from his unofficial date: Argentine pop sensation Emilia Mernes.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none!! (my first fanfic everr, hope you really enjoy this)

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The sun dipped low over the Spanish sky, casting a golden glow over the sprawling festival grounds. Music pulsed through the air like electricity, and the crowd swayed as if tethered to the same rhythm. In the middle of it all, almost hidden among the thousands, stood Dean Huijsen—Real Madrid’s rising star—smiling like he had already won the Champions League. Next to him, glitter catching in the soft light, was Emilia Mernes—international pop sensation and Argentina’s queen of the stage. Dressed in a white cropped top, glittering skirt, and her signature hoops, she was the definition of festival glam.

And somehow, his date.

Well, not officially. But Dean wasn’t complaining.

She had just finished her set—closing with her hit “No Se Ve” to wild cheers. The Real Madrid team, who had come out to the festival as a group during the preseason break, had watched from the VIP section. Most were now a few meters away, pretending not to look. But the smirks and side-glances gave them away.

“I told you he had game,” Bellingham whispered to Valverde, nodding toward Dean. “He’s 19, and already dating Latin royalty,” Rodrygo added with a dramatic sigh. “This kid is dangerous.”

Meanwhile, Dean stood in the crowd, trying to act casual. Emilia leaned in close to say something, her lips brushing his ear as she giggled. “You survived the concert. Proud of you.” He laughed, nervously brushing his hair back. “Are you kidding? I’ve had your songs stuck in my head all week. That chorus? Dangerous.”

Suddenly, the DJ switched tracks, and a reggaeton beat dropped. The crowd erupted. Without hesitation, Emilia grabbed his hand and pulled him closer, their bodies moving to the rhythm. She spun into him, laughing when he nearly tripped trying to follow her hips.

“You dance like a centre-back,” she tease

“That’s because I am one.”

Up in the VIP section, Jude recorded them with his phone. “TikTok’s gonna love this,” he joked.

Vinícius leaned over. “Bro’s gonna wake up to Emilia Mernes fancams. This is next-level exposure.”

Dean, blissfully unaware, kept dancing. At one point, Emilia wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, “They’re watching us, you know.” “Let them,” he said, pulling her just a little closer.

Later, when the fireworks exploded in the sky and the last song played, the two of them stood in the middle of it all—arms around each other, swaying, lost in the moment.

Maybe it wasn’t official yet. Maybe it was still something in progress. But under the stars, with her voice in his ears and the world watching… it felt pretty real to him.

Later that night, after the lights of the festival dimmed and the last selfies were snapped, the Real Madrid crew found themselves piling into a tucked-away terrace restaurant in the hills outside Madrid. Private, quiet, warm with hanging lights and old Spanish stonework—someone (probably Modrić) had called in a favor. Dean arrived with Emilia still beside him. Her glittery outfit had started to lose its battle against the cool summer breeze. Without a word, Dean had slipped off his oversized Real Madrid hoodie and draped it over her shoulders, the sleeves comically long on her. She blinked in surprise. “You’ll be cold,” she said. He shrugged. “You sang a whole set for thousands. I can survive twenty minutes.”

“Chivalry’s not dead, huh?” Rodrygo teased from ahead, bumping his shoulder.

Dean just gave him a look that said don't start, but his ears were turning a little pink.

The hostess gestured toward the outdoor seating, where the tables were set on a grassy courtyard surrounded by vines. Everyone started picking spots, but Emilia paused, eyeing the grass with her skirt. Before she could say anything, Dean dropped down onto the ground, patting his lap with a smirk. “Solution,” he said simply. She raised a brow. “Are you… offering to be my chair?” “I’m a centre-back,” he said again, deadpan. “We hold the line.”

The entire team lost it.

Even Modrić chuckled behind his wine glass, shaking his head like a dad watching two teens flirt at the family barbecue. Later, as menus were passed around and drink orders made, Emilia reached for the bill the moment it hit the table.

“Nope.” Dean beat her to it, handing over his card. “Dean!” she protested, half-laughing, half-scolding. “You didn’t let me pay at the festival food truck either!” “I’m not letting you pay after you performed and invited me,” he said calmly. “It’s just dinner.”

As the night stretched on, the players relaxed, swapping stories, laughing over clips from the festival someone had already edited into a TikTok (Dean had gone viral, naturally). Emilia fit right in—laughing with Jude, arguing with Vini over who had the better playlist, and smiling every time she caught Dean watching her.

Then, toward the end, as the group waited for dessert, Modrić leaned over the table, eyes warm. “You know,” he said, nodding between the two of them, “this boy may be young, but he’s got an old soul. I’ve seen players chase fame, but Dean? He brings her his hoodie and offers to be a chair. That’s husband behavior.” The table howled. Emilia covered her face in her hands, laughing. Dean just rubbed the back of his neck, face burning. “You’re not helping,” he muttered.

Modrić just smiled, patting his shoulder. “I’m not supposed to. I’m the team dad.”

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I loved Modrić being like the "team dad" to be fair 😭😭

If you see any mistake, or if you have any advice feel totally free to let me know. I just needed to write for this boy!