The Awkward Night

Charles Leclerc Masterlist

Written Fics

Achilles Come Down

A Crime Against Fashion

All Locked Up

Bet on It

Black Magic

Blackmail Material

Blow Out the Candles

Boop!

Borrowed Time

Brake Balance

Break In, Breakdown

Breaking Point

Changing Lanes

Danger Noodles

Daydream

Eurovisionaries

Fairytale

Family Feud

Fit for a Queen

Gilded Cage

Going Once, Going Twice

Head Over Heels

Hydrate or Diedrate

Inked

La Regina

Lessons in Anatomy

Live Like We Want To

Lover

Made with Love

Make Them Proud

Man’s World

Mesaytara

My Brother’s Father

Never Have I Ever

Newsflash

Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc

Ours to Protect

Prince of Monaco

Prove Them Wrong

Puppy Love

Roll the Dice

Ruin You

Sink or Swim

Sleepyhead

So Good to Her

So Good to Me

Something Sweet

That’s That Me, Espresso

The Center Cannot Hold

Theories of Relativity

Ties That Bind

Time to Kill

Under the Influence

Use Your Words

What’s the Worst That Can Happen?

Your Friend Steve

Social Media AUs

In My Blood (series with Senna!Reader)

architect!Reader

author!Reader

black!Reader

Brazilian!Reader

celebrity crush!Reader

CEO!Reader

college student!Reader

crazy rich!Reader

endurance driver!Reader

fashion designer!Reader

fan!Reader

Ferrari driver!Reader

Ferrari engineer!Reader

Ferrari team principal!Reader

footballer!Reader

girlfriend!Reader

Horner!Reader

Måneskin!Reader

model!Reader

nepo baby!Reader

Newey!Reader

newlywed!Reader Part I

newlywed!Reader Part II

New Year’s Edition

pop star!Reader

pop star!Reader II

PowerPointless Part II

Princess of Monaco!Reader

pr manager!Reader

protective!Reader

revenge era!Reader

royal!Reader

Sainz!Reader

scandalous!Reader

shameless!Reader

single mother!Reader

socialite!Reader

Vettel!Reader

widow!Reader

wife!Reader

Wolff!Reader

Wolff!Reader II

Wolff!Reader x Max Verstappen

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

❦ - hector fort boyfriend headcannons

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

warnings:: none!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SORRY THIS IS SHORT I WAS LOWKEY OUT OF IDEAS

OH MY GOD DIOS MIOS 🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸

you never fail bro dafuk i wish to have ur talent omds what on earth

Pedri supporting his girlfriend who plays for Barca femeni after she gets hurt at her game?

✮ The Real Winner - Pedri González

pedri gonzalez x barçafemeni!reader

sy: after a sustained head injury, all you need is the comfort (and slight lesson) from your boyfriend to ease you back to normal.

a/n: i did this as a more realistic approach and added our current female players as teammates & i probably yapped too much for this but still (i need to make my fics longer)

⚠️ i have literally only just come across a similar fic to what ive written, but genuinely ive had this in my drafts for around a week now, but still had to finish off the end. so please, there is no copyright intended as i wrote this before the other authors fic, but no communication was present & i wasn’t going to scrap this all away after spending so long writing.

warnings: not really .

“hmph!”

being fouled—again.

after being hurled to the curb by madrid’s opposing player, you swiftly bounce back onto the heels of your feet.

your socks had been rolled down to yours ankles in uneven lengths, your shin pads slipping from their placed position and your jersey covered in dirt and dust.

“c’mon ref, your not gonna call that?!” aitana calls out, whilst alexia—team captain—rushes over to complain.

vicky rushes over to you, with a disconcerting look. “¿oye estas bien? you took a pretty nasty fall there.” (are you okay?).

“yes—yeah im fine,” you grumble hoarsely, narrowing your eyes at the madrid players on the other side of the pitch that were pointing fingers and snickering in your direction.

she gives you a pat on the back, as the ref blows the whistle. you snap your head around, and he’s holding up a yellow card.

“en serio?!” alexia protests, “all im saying is that you made a mistake!”

with a huff, the blonde struts off towards you and vicky, pushing her slidden armband higher up her arm.

“yellow card huh?” vicky says, shaking her head. putellas tuts, hollering to the remainder of your team over.

“i swear they don’t even try to hide the bias, it happens every single game,” kiera argues, jogging over as they all nod in agreement.

salma shuffles in closer, encouraging a group huddle. “look we aren’t going to win this by complaining—we need a strategy.”

“sí but what? they’re brutal tonight sal,” aitana replies. “we’ve tried every strategy in the book so far, and y/ns injured.”

they all glance over to you, their star striker, covered head to toe in cuts and bruises. not to mention, the amount of grass’ turf that clung to your skin was intolerable.

“i’m not injured,” you say firmly, knotting your brows in defence despite the unbearable sting creeping up your ankle.

your teammates don’t look convinced, but they don’t push further. the referee is already growing impatient, gesturing for the game to continue.

alexia claps her hands, “alright team, ten coraje.”

you all disburse, as you limp your way back to your position. to be honest, your ankle was throbbing and with every step it felt like your bone could crack.

everyone’s back in their places, as the whistle blows again. your quick to sprint in impulse, but as soon as you do, you wince in pain.

“joder,” you curse, watching as the ball slips away from you, and to the madrid forward.

your vision wavers as you try to recover, but the pain shoots up to your leg. you swiftly glance at your teammates for help, but they’re all too focused on the game to notice.

unbeknownst to you, pedri is up in the stands—silent and worried. he’s accompanied by ferran and gavi, who equally have the most bewildered expressions too.

“i know this story,” ferran interrupts quietly, “and it doesn’t end well.”

pedri doesn’t say anything, but instead his eyes are fixed on you, with your slow and painful movements. he’s noticed how sluggish you’ve become since the last hit, and even though you tried to look sharper, it wasn’t possible.

“she needs to ask to get subbed off or something. this isn’t doing her or the team any good.” gavi slices through the deafening silence, who’s on the edge of his seat.

it’s true. since the whistle blew, you had lost the ball a good three times, which you could of easily intercepted or won back.

“she won’t,” pedri finally speaks. “she’s too stubborn for that, even if it’s breaking her.”

“y/n! get your head in the game!” hansen orders, giving you a harsh nudge. “we can’t afford to lose this game because you cant focus.”

“i’m trying okay? but my ankle just—”

“you told us you weren’t injured.” she shrugs, running over to the midfield where the hustle was.

unfortunately, she was right but you were too stubborn to confess, but besides there’s no chance you could give up now.

you sigh, rubbing the sweat from your forehead with the back of your arm. you didn’t want to admit it but you were costing them the game; after failed promises you couldn’t live up to.

minutes pass by and you find yourself on your rivals side of the pitch, with the ball close to madrids net, and you find this as a perfect opportunity to shoot it into the goal.

with a sharpe exhale, you push every ounce of power you still have into a jump, as you watch the ball loft into the air.

as you jump, ready to head straight into the net—

—so does madrids defender.

your heads collide mid-air, a stark snap ringing throughout your ears before a wave of pain explodes across your skull.

everything happens so fast. the world tilts and spins and before you know it, your plunged into darkness.

the impact sends you pelting down onto the pitch, rolling onto your side with a loud groan.

the entirety of your vision blurs, a shrill ringing noise overwhelming all of your senses that make you clutch your forehead in pain.

the referee—for once—makes a sensible decision and immediately blows the whistle as your teammates sprint their way over.

each one of them have worry painted all over their faces, trying try their best to comfort you.

“shit—y/n, you shouldn’t of done that,” kiera’s the first to speak, cutting through the haze. but all you can manage is a grunt in response.

“move, move, give her space.” alexia instructs, dropping to her knees besides you.

“i don’t need help,” you mutter, attempting to sit up but failing when another sneer throb shoots through your skull. “it was just a small blow.”

“nada, nada.. you need to get checked out,” vicky says firmly. she also kneels down to the floor, keeping her hand on shoulder to keep you down.

in the stands, pedri continues watching in horror, his hands curled into fists from the first second of contact.

“what’s going on? i can’t see,” pablo nudges ferran for an answer.

“maybe it’s because you’re too short,” ferran snorts and begins laughing. gavi scoffs theatrically, giving the man a forceful push.

pedri shoots them both daggers, clearly not amused. “now’s not the time for jokes hermano.”

“right, sorry,” they both nod and look back to the pitch. from their view, all they can see is that your laying flat on the floor whilst the rest of barça femení are surrounding you.

back on the pitch, the medics are already making their way over but your still trying to argue your case.

you sigh for the third time, “honestly, i’m fine—i can keep playing hermana.”

“this won’t prove that your any tougher,” aitana declares, with an innocence to her tone. “we already know you are, stop fighting it y/n.”

your lips part in objection, until a second pulse of ache pierces through your skull, making you sway.

the medics already have cloths to your temple, thermometers down your throat and pills in their grasps. but once the thermometer beeps, the decisions made.

“that’s it your coming off,” one announces, helping you to your feet. alexia and vicky also help you up, giving you small hugs for support.

salma gives you a kiss of encouragement to your head as your guided off, your head still heavy.

the crowd roars with fury, and you can feel the puncture of the fans’ eyes analysing every single twitch of movement you made.

. . .

the medics room is cold, eerie and in general not a place you’d like to be in. the fan above was moving slowly, almost painfully.

you were lying on the examination table, blinking slowly as you tried to adjust to the light; every sound echoed in your head like its bouncing off cave walls.

“keep your head still please,” the doctor instructs, shining a dainty flashlight into your eyes.

you wince, groaning at the intensity. “ugh do i have to?”

“yes.” he deadpans, moving to the other eye. “you’ve got a grade two concussion, and a potential ankle sprain.”

“what does that mean?” you ask him seriously, as your brain still hasn’t caught up to speed.

“it’s nothing too dangerous. you will just require plenty of rest, and unfortunately, you will miss quite a few m—”

he’s about to continue when he’s interrupted by a loud opening burst of the door. “y/n!”

pedri’s voice makes you finally twist, as he’s at your side within seconds. his hands straightaway reach for your own, warm against your cold fingers.

“what the hell was that?” he demands, his brows furrowed in deep concern. “you could of cracked your skull open and you still wanted to keep playing?”

his tone is sharp, but his touch is gentle even as they cup your face, evenly smoothing over your clammy forehead.

you blink up at him, struggling to focus.

“since when have there been two of you amore?” you ask, completely disregarding his question.

pedri’s frown deepens. “yeah your definitely concussed.”

your smile is lazy and carefree, poking his cheek when he turns to the doctor in ambition for your medical results.

“you’re cute when your angry,” you giggle, your mindset with him a polar opposite of before. your boyfriend doesn’t answer you, so you insist.

“pedrii,” you whine, pulling on the strings of his hoodie to pull him closer. “aren’t you listening to me?”

he snaps out of conversation with the doctor abruptly, his face now so close to yours that you can feel the tickle of his breath. “sí carino, i’m listening.”

“what did i just say then?” you grouse, annoyed.

he hums, obviously not having the briefest idea of what you actually said. “something about the lights?”

“no silly, i said, you’re cute when your angry.”

pedri sighs, “this isn’t funny y/n, you could of gotten seriously hurt.”

“kind of is,” you mumble, the corner of your mouth curving into a vague smile. “your all worked up over me.”

“yeah and earn myself a heart attack,” he lets out with a small chuckle, giving a quick peck to the tip of your nose.

his hands shift up to cradle your jaw, his thumbs brushing delicately over your cheekbones. “you genuinely did scare the shit out of me though,” he admits, his tone softer now. “please never do that to me again.”

“ill try,” you say flatly, shrugging your shoulders.

“no you won’t try, you will.” he corrects, sweeping lost hairs from your face. “i’m never letting you do that to me again.”

“threatening me isn’t going to work pedro,” you snort airly.

“if i say that i won’t let you kiss me until you stop being so reckless, then will it work?” he counters, with a smug smirk.

your eyes widen slightly, “you wouldn’t.”

pedri tilts his head, his smile unwavering. “try me.”

you dramatically sigh, but continue fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. “that’s so cruel, especially when i’m hurt.”

“call it what you want amor,” he grins, “but if it stops you from terrifying the hell out of me then i’ll do it.”

you huff, looking away, but pedri isn’t having it. he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, right where the impact was worst. then another, softer this time. and another. his lips trail over every tender spot—your forehead, the side of your head, down to your cheek, as if his kisses alone could erase the pain.

“promise me that you’ll be more careful,” he murmurs between kisses. “please.”

even though you weren’t fully reassured of yourself, rather you simply forget or don’t entirely listen, you do owe him a favour.

for everything.

“i promise,” you whisper, voice small.

pedri still doesn’t look fully convinced, but he holds you tighter anyway, his lips pressing against your hair one more time—one final reminder that, no matter what, he’d always be there to put you back together.

YOU GET IT BRO WTF HAPPENED

ykw i was watching a video of gavi walking and ive realised how fucked his legs are like first of all i’m literally taller than him and second of all he walks like my granddad what has happened to the poor boy 💔.

STOP they are literally like ( ) I THINK ABOUT THIS DAILY. who did this to my sweet boy?? (ifykyk)

𝙵𝙸𝙵𝙰.

Antoine Griezmann Atletico Madrid icons + João Félix headers.

tag @km7bae if you're sv/using please.

can u do a pau fic where he’s sitting down and reader comes to stand between his legs and he puts his hands on the back of her thighs (yk the thing that guys do idk how to explain it🤣) and her hands around his neck playing with his hair. and he just looks so in love and smiley and looking up and her and just listening to her speak.

maybe it’s at team dinner or something at the camp and everyone is like awww and teasing.

❦ - your hands.

warnings:: none

writers notes:: it’s safe to say that i didn’t survive yesterday and im sat at my desk at 7am rn and i’m chugging red bull

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

it’s loud in the restaurant, glasses clinking, plates being passed, laughter bouncing off every corner of the table.

but none of it really matters.

because pau’s sitting in the middle of it all, quietly zoned out, eyes only on you.

you’d gotten up to grab something off the far end of the table, weaving through teammates and chairs and banter, and somehow ended up standing right between his knees as you reached across the table.

and instead of shifting or moving back, he just rests his hands gently on the backs of your thighs. casual. warm. his.

your breath catches just a little.

you glance down at him and smile, hands instinctively finding his shoulders, then sliding up into his hair.

his hair is soft. his eyes are softer.

and god, he’s looking at you like you’re made of light.

like he’s not in the middle of a team dinner with half the squad watching.

like you’re the only sound he hears.

you start rambling about something, what someone said earlier, a joke he missed, how chaotic the other end of the table is.

and he just listens.

quiet smile on his lips. fingers still tracing slow, lazy shapes on the backs of your thighs. head tilted just slightly so he can look up at you better.

he nods at all the right moments, gives little mhm’s and amused half laughs, but mostly?

he’s just watching.

like he’s memorizing you. like he already has.

someone down the table calls his name.

he doesn’t even flinch.

you finally stop talking, a little breathless, a little shy under his stare.

‘what?’ you whisper, laughing softly. ‘why are you looking at me like that?’

he just smiles.

‘you’re the best part of my night. that’s all.’

and yeah. you feel it. all the way down to your fingertips.

ღ - m a s t e r l i s t

who i write for

alejandro balde

lights, camera, golazo - part one

lights, camera, golazo - part two

bound 2

pablo gavi

stadium lights, casablancan nights

ivy

a quiet kind of love.

valentines surprise.

yours to hold.

el mar, el sol y mi corazón.

love && war.

love && war 2.

jamal musiala

for better or for best

the alchemy

boyfriend headcannons

london days.

joao felix

girl dad head cannons

joao felix x non famous girl headcannons

joao felix x sassy girl headcannons

it’s still intact, right?

la rainha de cobham

hell n back

lottery

one wrong digit.

one wrong digit. part 2.

one wrong digit. part 3.

amore a milan.

is this a curse..?

yours for the day.

retail therapy… or not?

lost && found.

priorities.

delicate.

my girls curls.

hector fort

boyfriend headcannons

moonlight

my favourite player.

unexpected but never a problem.

jude bellingham

all eyes on us

kiss of life

madrid, maybe.

not enough for you.

kenan yildiz

i knew you were trouble

cut my hair

in your arms, always.

table for 2.

‘who’s jeans..?’

silent devotion.

first date dilemmas.

match made in turin.

the love of italia.

‘and we created you in pairs.’

hidden in plain sight.

guille fernandez

back to you.

sneaking around.

toni fernandez

playing for keeps.

marc bernal

the best kind of trip.

pau cubarsi

attached by the arms.

kieran tierney

moving on.

taa (trent)

headlines.

charles leclerc

maman et papa.

can you make a story about Marc and reader, where he teases her about the height difference

❦ - short n sweet.

summary:: you didn’t choose to be short. but marc chose you. so therefore he can’t complain you’re short! but he does 💔.

warnings:: none!?

writers note:: lowkey gonna spam bc i always write my fics in my notes bc tumblr deletes drafts and i’ve written sm all i need to do is format 👅.

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

you weren’t even sure how the conversation started. one moment, you were waiting for him outside the training grounds, minding your business, and the next, marc was teasing you relentlessly about your height.

‘can you even see over the dashboard when you drive?’ he smirked, looking down at you as you both walked toward his car.

you rolled your eyes. ‘yes, marc. i don’t need a booster seat.’

‘are you sure?’ he nudged your side, laughing. ‘i can get you one, you know. i’ll even make it barca themed.’

‘oh, you’re hilarious,’ you deadpanned, shoving him lightly. it barely did anything, considering he was literally towering over you.

marc had been on this for weeks. every chance he got, he’d make some comment about how much smaller you were compared to him. it wasn’t even like you were that short, he was just unfairly tall.

‘wait, stand next to me for a sec,’ he said, stopping in his tracks.

you groaned. ‘marc—’

‘just for a second,’ he grinned.

you sighed but humored him, standing beside him as he straightened his posture. he looked down at you, then burst out laughing.

‘oh my god, i swear you’re getting shorter.’

you smacked his arm. ‘or maybe you’re just a freakishly tall human being.’

he ignored your insult, clearly enjoying himself. ‘i bet if we took a picture, people would think i’m your bodyguard.’

you gasped. ‘you did not just say that.’

he was dying of laughter at this point, barely able to breathe. ‘no, no, seriously. imagine me in a suit, standing behind you, all serious. people would think i’m protecting you from the paparazzi.’

you groaned dramatically. ‘you’re the worst.’

‘no, you’re the worst,’ he shot back playfully, slinging an arm around your shoulders with ease. ‘but it’s okay, i still like you, even if i have to break my neck looking down at you.’

you huffed, but you couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto your lips. ‘you’re so lucky i like you too, otherwise i’d trip you in the locker room.’

he grinned. ‘i’d like to see you try, shorty.’

and just like that, the teasing continued.

october is diabolical (i feel u bro 💔.)

anyways this definitely makes up for the obscure amount of time that took this is yummy it fed me good lord. está es una de las mejores cosas que he leído, DIOS MIOS tu talento está más allá de este mundo😍😍

Hey can you do one for Alejandro Balde where he's childhood best friends with reader. Some angst where other girls seem to come into the picture with his fame but he finds out how Y/N feels and reassures her!

✮ Don’t Shy Away - Alejandro Balde

alejandro balde x childhood bsf!fem!reader

sy: you become painfully overwhelmed by how your childhood bsf becomes swarmed and smitten with his own fangirls, as you become increasingly scared to admit your love.

a/n: this has terribly been in my drafts since oct and im actually ashamed for leaving it so long. i hope this makes up for it though <3

warnings: not really tbf.

the sky hung low with a suffocating greyness, and the wind nipped at your skin as you lingered on the outskirts of the pitch.

he’d asked you to be here.

you bounced on the heels of your feet, your fingers nervously etching across the leather purse in your grasp, scratching at the silk. you felt out of place, like you didn’t belong here, but then again—he asked you to be here.

the laughter reached you first, light and airy, floating across the pitch like the first taunt of a fight you couldn’t win.

there he was. alejandro—swirled up in the centre of a foreign crowd. instead, lavishing with women in head to toe with glam. their eyes sparkled with admiration, their voices like birdsongs when they exclaimed out his name.

that smile; the same one you knew like the back of your hand.

but him? he only basked in it. basked in the attention that he received, oblivious to the way it shredded you, piece by piece—leaving raw edges where your heart used to be whole.

the boy who once made pinky promises in the glow of streetlights, who used to scold you for crying over scraped knees and share his dreams with the kind of quiet fervor that only children possess—he felt so far away now.

fame clung to him like a second skin, and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to peel it back and find the alejandro you knew.

“this is so stupid,” you curse yourself silently, your eyes magnate down to your shoes. let this be the last time you let yourself be humiliated.

you fumble with the watch on your wrist, clocking down the minutes that had you foolishly stood here, waiting. twenty-nine minutes.

it was pointless in waiting here still; you weren’t going to watch the clock tick to thirty as your self respect was slipping.

“hey,” balde called out, jogging to catch up to you, “your leaving so soon?”

when you didn’t turn around, he stopped you in your tracks by kneading his hand into your shoulder blade to prevent you from moving.

“alright party pooper, what’s with the rush? do you not wanna talk to me tonight or something?” he laughed, that same, familiar sense of humour creeping through in every worse moment.

with his help, you spun round, and instantly locked with his eyes. “what’s with the pout chica? im here, now, talk to me.”

“what’s there to talk about ale?” you inquire, brushing his hand from your shoulder. “you asked me to be here.”

“and you came,” alejandro pointed out with a grin, as if that alone made it better. “so i was thinking, if you wanted to stop by tonight.”

the way he said it, like he hadn’t just spent the last half hour entertaining other women whilst you stood around like an idiot.

you wanted to say yes. you wanted to just forget the hurt and walk away with him. but after tonight, after feeling like an insignificant background character, you didn’t have the strength to go.

“i’m just not feeling it today,” you whispered, avoiding eye contact. “sorry.”

“c’mon,” giving you playful jabs to your arm, “what’s the gloom? when do you ever reject me?”

there was a pause of silence. before you sighed, locking your hands behind your back. “it’s nothing.”

his grin faltered, his eyes examining your body language. “nada, no, see—now i know your lying.”

“just let it go ale.” you said, stepping back.

his teasing dropped almost instantly. “your upset? mad? definitely not happy,” he muttered the final words under his breath. “nervous?”

you grumble, crossing your arms. “seriously?”

he tilted his head slightly, examining your face carefully. “are you on your perio—?”

“no balde!” you finally snapped, which made his head instantly recoil back up. you couldn’t keep the anger from breaking through, even if you tried. “are you not aware of what you’ve just done?”

his expression stays blank, and if anything, he looks more shocked at your outburst than he does concerned. and that, more than anything, made the fire in you burn hotter.

“so your gonna stand there, mute, and act oblivious?!” you eventually screech, having no regard for who was listening. “as you always do i expect.”

“qué i don’t—”

“no you never do. do you ale?” you spit, as he pushes you into a more secluded area underneath the tunnel; away from prying eyes.

“look,” he sighs softly, “can you explain it to me rather than screaming in my face?”

“you dont deserve my explanation,” you mutter, feeling the sting of tears at the brim of your eyes.

your throat burned, the fury dissolving, leaving only a raw, aching pain in its wake. if you didn’t leave now, it would only make you cry, and you couldn’t let that happen.

not after defending yourself so promptly.

you turned away again, ready to walk off before you lost whatever shred of dignity you had left. but ale was too quick, wrapping his hand around you wrist before you had the chance.

“why do you keep pushing me away?” ale’s voice dropped an octave low, almost shameful. “im just trying to help you.”

with a slow twist back around, you met his gaze with an expression he could quite decipher.

the conflict of hurt and frustration clear in your eyes made his grip tighten, feeling the desperation in his fingers.

“maybe i don’t need your help!” you exclaim, the contradicting nature between his words and actions making your eyes burn. “not now.”

“what do you mean not now?”

“isn’t it clear?” you shake your head, “can you really not see it… how i truly feel?”

“how you feel? no i didn’t even recog—”

you scoffed, pulling your wrist away. “exactly.”

balde exhaled through his nose, raking his fingers through his hair. “what’s this about huh? you could of just told me you didn’t wanna come over y/n.”

“its not that,” you huff, staring at your shoes.

“then what is it?” alejandro crouches slightly to look at your face, bringing his thumb under your chin.

when you didn’t reply to him, he carried on.

“please, whatever it is, i would rather us talk it out than you hating me for something i’ve done.” and this time, his tone carried sincerity.

not like before, where it was all light and jovial, like he thought everything was just a joke. but instead, something that said he truly cared.

biting the inside of your cheek, you tried to keep your composure. “you spent thirty minutes surrounded by them..”

the guilt in his eyes were immediate; the footballers shoulders dropped in regret.

“..and i stood there like a fool, waiting for you.”

you shuffled your feet against the concrete, finally bringing up the courage to look him in the eyes. “i didn’t have to come.”

“i know,” he replied—weak.

the words echoed in the tranquil air, closing in on you both as neither of you had the fight to say anything.

“i messed up,” he finally admitted, swallowing the lump in his throat. “i should’ve been with you. i should’ve seen you standing there.”

almost as a reflex, you squeezed your eyes shut in hopes to savour this moment if it wasn’t real. you wanted to trust that it was real.

“hey, im being serious y/n. for the first time ever.”

your lips parted in protest, your heart racing at the proximity as he pressed his forehead against yours.

the closeness, the way his breath fanned over your skin—it was everything you’d spent years yearning for, but never daring to confront.

“trust me when i say this,” he pulled back, brushing a stray hair from your face, “i don’t want anybody else.”

you gulped thickly, his words playing strings with your heart. why did he wait for so long to say it?

“you say that now,” you whisper, defeated. “but what about tomorrow? or even weeks from now, when your surrounded by them?”

his brows furrowed, eyes dark with something unreadable. then, as if making a decision right then and there, he took your hands in his.

“there won’t be a next time,” he promised, his thumbs tracing soft circles over your skin. “i don’t care about them, nor the attention, the cameras, the noise—it all means nothing without you.”

the words hit you harder than you expected, knocking the air from your lungs.

“i love you, nena. not them. not this life. you.”

your lips trembled, he was already pulling you in, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“i know i don’t deserve an answer right now,” he murmured against your skin. “but let me prove it to you, okay?”

a shuddered breath left you, your fingers gripping the front of his jacket as if letting go would mean losing him again.

“¿me dejarás?” (will you let me?)

you didn’t know what the future would hold, but for now, in this moment, you needed to let go of the fear. to let yourself trust him, fully.

“yeah,” you nodded, falling into the urge to rest your chin on his shoulder—your resolve finally melting.

balde chuckled, relaxedly. “that means you forgive me right?”

“i don’t know, your on a test for the rest of this week.” you hummed mockingly, although really, it wasn’t too bad of an idea.

alejandro shook his head disbelievingly, but deep down, he was just relieved that he had his best friend back, or even after this—something more than just friends.

the scrape on your knee had been healed, the wounds of the past, and he was the one who healed it.

hi hello! do you write for kieran tierney? if you don’t feel free to ignore this. but if you do can i please request a one shot where they’re talking about the fact that kieran’s moving to celtic at the end of the season and if they’re at a place in their relationship where the reader would move with him and it’s all angsty? hurt/comfort maybe? have a great day!

❦ - moving on.

summary:: moving on is hard, especially when you’re expected to pick everything up and move. not everything goes to plan and life is the best example of that.

warnings:: i don’t think so…

writers notes:: never did i expect to be writing for him but ykw heck yeah 😍. anyways i love writing angst it’s my element i fear, others may disagree but i love it sm

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the apartment felt quieter than usual. the soft hum of the city outside and the distant buzz of your phone were the only sounds that kept you grounded as you stared out of the window. it had been a long day, and all you wanted was some peace. but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

kieran’s voice broke through the silence, though it was quieter than usual, almost uncertain. ‘i think i’m really going to go for it. celtic. end of the season.’

the words hung in the air, thick with unspoken tension.

you didn’t turn to face him immediately, afraid that if you did, you’d betray the way your stomach had twisted in response. you felt the air grow heavy with the weight of his decision. he hadn’t exactly asked you what you thought, but you didn’t need him to. you both knew what this meant.

celtic was his home. he’d always spoken of them fondly, of the pride in representing the club that had raised him, that had seen him grow into the man he was today. and now, after everything, after all the time apart, after the struggles, the ups and downs, it was finally happening.

the move.

your heart ached at the thought.

you swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. ‘it’s... it’s a good opportunity, kieran. for you.’

it sounded almost dismissive, even to your own ears, but you couldn’t make yourself say anything else. because the truth was, a part of you was afraid. afraid that this was the moment that everything would change. that maybe you weren’t ready to let go of what you had here. or that, perhaps, you weren’t ready to follow him into this new chapter of his life.

kieran didn’t respond right away, and you finally turned to face him. he was sitting at the kitchen counter, his eyes fixed on his phone. his shoulders were tense, but his face, his face was the same as always. the face that had smiled at you in countless photos, that had comforted you when things felt rough, that had been the one constant in your life for so long.

but now, it was a mask. a mask you weren’t sure you could break through.

‘you don’t seem happy,’ he said softly, his eyes lifting to meet yours.

you took a shaky breath, the lump in your throat growing with every second. ‘of course i’m happy for you. it’s celtic. it’s everything you’ve worked for. but... but what about us?’

the words spilled out of you before you could stop them. you didn’t want to be selfish, but you couldn’t help it. his dream was becoming a reality, and you... you didn’t know where you fit into that anymore.

‘what about us, kieran?’ you repeated, your voice trembling. ‘are we at a place where... where i should follow you? can we keep doing this long-distance thing? or is this the end?’

the question hung between you, thick with all the unsaid words that had built up over the past few months. you’d both been busy, so busy, between his commitments, your own, that the time together had become sparse. and with this looming decision, with the inevitability of his move to celtic, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

kieran was silent, his gaze falling away from yours. ‘i didn’t want to put that pressure on you,’ he said quietly. ‘i don’t want to make you feel like you have to come with me.’

‘but i’m not sure i’m ready to leave everything behind,’ you confessed, your voice cracking. ‘i’ve built my life here, kieran. my job. my friends. i can’t just pick everything up and go.’

his eyes softened, and he stood up from the counter, walking over to you slowly, carefully. when he reached you, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the few stray tears that had fallen.

‘i didn’t mean to make you feel that way,’ he murmured. ‘i’m not asking you to leave everything behind for me. but you’re part of my future. that’s not something i can just... walk away from.’

you blinked up at him, trying to process the gravity of his words. you wanted to believe him. you wanted to believe that you could make it work, that love could conquer distance, could conquer time.

but it wasn’t that easy. not when you were being pulled in different directions, your own future uncertain.

‘and what if this doesn’t work out, kieran?’ you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. ‘what if you go to celtic, and things change? what if we change?’

he closed his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of your question was too much to bear. then, with a slow breath, he replied, ‘i don’t have the answers. i don’t know what the future holds. all i know is that i want you in it. i want us in it. but i can’t ask you to follow me if you’re not ready.’

the silence that followed was deafening. you wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, to reassure him that you didn’t want to lose him. but you also needed to be sure of yourself. you needed to know that you were making the right choice, for both of you.

‘kieran...’ you started, but the words caught in your throat.

he kissed your forehead gently, and you melted into him, allowing yourself the brief comfort of his touch. ‘whatever you decide, i’m not going anywhere,’ he whispered. ‘but i’m here for the long haul, and i need you to know that.’

you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to feel the warmth of his words, even if they didn’t fully ease the uncertainty in your heart. for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, to breathe in the scent of him, to just be with him. you weren’t ready to make a decision, but you didn’t want to let go of what you had, either.

the future was uncertain, but in this moment, you had each other. and maybe that was enough to keep you going.

for now.