#sefutbol

i suggest listening to this and this while reading.

the fight started with something way too stupid to end with a silent treatment and you’re aware, but you’re also disappointed about him walking out on you.

he was in charge of grocery shopping this week. you had a shitty day at work, so once home the only thing you were looking forward to was your greek yogurt 2% fat. opening the fridge isn’t what you were expecting, you frown picking up the small container. “babe?” you call over your shoulder for ferran.

“you’re home.” his head peaks out from behind your bedroom door.

“what’s this?” you place the little box on the counter.

“what it looks like, why?” he comes behind you for a hug, but you quickly pull away.

“because it’s not the one i want, honestly how long have we been together? you know i hate this sometimes it’s like you don’t know me at all!.” you pinch your nose to fighting the tears. it’s not his fault but you can’t help it, you’re way too overstimulated in that moment and the smallest thing is gonna make you freak out.

“it’s really not that deep for you to be acting so upset about it.” he says in a patronizing tone, that makes you absolutely loose it. and he must’ve realized it too judging by the look on his face.

“i’ve had the most stressful fucking day and then i come home and my boyfriend can’t even do the easiest thing in this world, you know i hate this brand not like it’s fucking hard!.” you crash out.

“oh so you think you’re the only one that has bad days?” you watch his eyes harden, and lines on his forehead showing under your stare and everything quickly escalates from there. “i’m way too tired to be listening to your shit right now.” the picks up his car keys before walking out.

with the door smashing behind you, you’re left alone in the kitchen with his two dogs and no dinner.

you’re on the bed, copying in the only way you know, puffy eyes and red nose crying from anger. it’s past midnight when you hear the door lock clicking and you’re quick to pretend you’re sleeping.

by the time he comes to the room you’re already in a slumber, you hear him strip down, clothes hitting the floor with a thump and the bed dipping next to you, “amor, i know you’re awake.”

nothing.

“i know i fucked up, i shouldn’t have left.” his body comes in contact with yours: warm chest against your side, a hand sneaks under the covers.

still nothing.

“your chest moves differently when you’re asleep, the breaths are deeper.” ouch. you have no choice but to open your eyes, and he’s got the sweetest smile on.

“hi.” his sweet voices cradles your skin. you would’ve kissed the soul out of him if you weren’t so goddamn stubborn, so you just stare.

“i’m sorry, please forgive me.” his nose nuzzles into your neck, you breath as quietly as you can.

“i know i acted like an asshole, i should’ve gotten the right yogurt-

-it wasn’t about the yogurt!”

that shuts him up, lips pursed into something like a scolded child. he groans burying his face into your chest. “please i’ll do anything.” he begs in a sweet sultry voice that itches you just right.

“let me make it up to you.” he murmurs leaving soft kisses on your skin. “please.”

the hand under the covers spread your legs wide, you’re tempted to lock them close but, oh well, you’re not that dumb to refuse anything he’s got to offer.

“do you seriously think you can buy me off with whatever it is you’re doing?” you ask with a scoff to cover out the whimper you were about to let out the moment he cups the heat between your legs.

you feel him murmur against your hipbone, making his way down further. “please baby, i’m gonna be so good.”

the words die on your tongue when his breath fans against your pussy, he starts off giving experimental licks giving you time to pull away if you weren’t in the mood.

but once you grip his hair he’s fully devoted and digs in. his middle and ring finger parting your folds apart and licking from your hole up your clit closing around it and sucking.

“fuck— just like that. don’t stop” he keeps repeating a couple more times before putting your legs up, folding you in half.

his mouth savoring all of you just for his own pleasure, before you feel two fingers sliding in you, curling them upwards while suckling your clit making you bite your own tongue.

your head is thrown back mouth open and he takes that as an opportunity to push his thumb into your mouth, you lips closing and sucking on it while gripping his wrist holding on for dear life.

when he pulls off your juices are dripping down his chin, his hair flying in all directions. he leans down capturing your mouth in a filthy kiss, his tongue shoved down your throat, you get a chance to taste yourself, cleaning him up in the process.

you’re both out of breath when you pull off, his forehead against yours while you cling to him.

“on second thought, i still feel extremely sorry for that yogurt.” he smirks against your lips before disappearing under the covers once again, making you shriek a laugh.

dada!ferran

endless plotting with his son to annoy the life out of you.

watching you in the stands with tobia on your hip at a match because he had promised your son ipad time during the weekend if he convinced you to come.

after the match you see tobia sprint towards his father you have no choice but to follow him down the field.

you’re about to scold him for running off when ferran pulls you in a hug.

absolutely refuses to not correct people about the fact that you’re separated and not divorced.

still has his wedding ring on because it’s just a matter of time before the two of you can figure it out and get back together. if only he could realize that it wasn’t that simple.

absolutely out of his way to make sure he flirts with you at every given chance, would do anything to get bonus points with you.

cancelling plans to stay with tobia just so you could hang out with friends. auto invites himself when you’re on your period so you don’t have to lift a finger and takes care of everything: laundry, cooking, being extra charming.

leaves cute little notes on the fridge every time he drops off your son and you’re not home, yes he has a key.

and he’ll accidentally fall asleep with tobia in your bed by the time you’re back so you have no choice but to sleep next the two of them, making yourself as small as possible because they’re occupying most of the bed.

he’ll wake up in the middle of the night and take a picture of you and tobia snuggled together.

couple days letter the polaroid is attached to the fridge along with a new sticky note.

making tobia fill him in with all that’s going on with mom.

“mom has a guy friend?” “well that just doesn’t work” “you need to help me out here.”

“because your mom is still my wife buddy, and i’m going to get her back.”

after a too many glasses of red wine while catching up. clothes are scattered all over the floor, pressing kisses to your forehead and caressing your hair while waiting for you to adjust to him inside him. telling you how much he’s missed you, how he’s been an asshole and you’re the best woman he could’ve had a child and a family with.

in the morning he’s insufferable. you try to tell him that it was a one time thing but it all goes thru one ear to the other.

two weeks later you wake up next to him once again. “one time is a coincidence, but two times means i’m being given another chance.”

in two months you’re almost civil with him again. tobia has a wicked grin plastered all over his face every time he sees the two interact. goes around telling everyone mom and dad are back together, your friends are furious with you.

friday night he’s at your door with your favorite flowers and you ask him to talk. it’s not easy, because he’s the love of your life. the same man you fell in love with, married, and the same one who cheated on you after a year with a kid together and now expects to be forgiven because he realized he fucked it up.

you can’t pretend none of that happened. that you didn’t get hurt. and let him just waltz right back him.

tobia wakes from his nap, bursts in crying after witnessing his parents argue with eacother. an hour later the three of you are on the kitchen floor apologizing and compromising with him. ferran sits him on his lap trying to explain he had messed up and was going to try and fix it.

by month eight you’re regularly sleeping with each other, the both of you too lazy to do all the dates and meet new people when you’ve got someone that knows your body and needs almost better that you do yourself.

he has to sneak in those nights, it’s a whole new experience with a kid, completely different from what you were used to.

and now that you’re confined to your room for certain activities, your mouth being always covered while he’s pounding on you and your collarbone full of bite marks trying your best to stay quiet and not get caught.

bending you over on every surface available at five am for a quickie before he has to sneak off again. he says it’s important for his mental health.

waking up to his mouth on you, fingers in your mouth, hands under the cover finding his hair to keep him still as you grind against his face setting a more comfortable rhythm for you, you swear you hear him groan in pleasure.

you must’ve lost track of time because you’re laying on the couch eating breakfast off a pizza box when you hear tobia’s sleepy voice go “dada?”

first weeks together after a month of sexual abstention due to overcrowding schedule.

it’s a FREAK ON FREAK show

kitchen counter:

that was due to your ingenuity. still cannot fathom getting up to the kitchen, sitting on the counter sipping coffee before a feral ferran joins the scene with his morning wood.

the mug clicking against the granite surface when put it down. “i’m coming to bed in a minute.”

he just shakes his head walking towards you.

“no?” you ask confused. “what do you mean no?”

“i mean no.” his gravelly morning voice echoes thru your ears.

“morning babe.” standing between your legs, a hand reaches behind your lower back grinding you against his hardened cock.

“wait, fer- let’s go to back, our friends could come in anytime.” you try to reason and not get distracted by the sight of his hand going inside his boxers to pull out his dick.

“nuh-huh. here” his breath fans against your skin when you feel the tip protruding your inner thigh.

“oh god—” you whimper claiming his mouth with a bruising kiss when he pushes in.

hands tight on your waist, legs locked behind his back doing your best to keep quiet as he keeps rocking into you.

“fuck, just like that.” nails digging into skin, pulling his hair, thrusts getting deeper and harder as you both hold on for dear life, you’re so close to cumming—

—YOU FUCKING SAVAGES WE EAT ON THAT COUNTER”

pool:

you’re met with ferran and his friends lazying in the pool when you return home with shopping bags. his eyes spotting you as soon as you’re in sight.

he doesn’t speak, just intensively stares at your body in a simple crop top and shorts.

someone asks you to join them, you have no idea who it was, you’re too busy eye fucking l your half naked boyfriend to really pay attention to anyone.

soon enough you’re left alone with him, friends scattering inside the house. you jump in at the first opportunity, clothes clinging to your body as you swim towards him. he’s waiting cockily leaning by the pool border for you to get to him.

he only offers you a lazy grin when he’s ambushed by you and your mouth.

“they can see.” he leans in and softly murmurs in your ear, not bothering to move a single muscle except that to reciprocate the affection you’re showering him with.

“i don’t care, they can’t see. i’m covering you.” you pamper the upper part of his chest suckling on his neck and peppering kisses.

you hear him hiss when your hands slips inside his short, already hardening at the contact.

his head is thrown back in pleasure while you rhythmically work your wrist up and down his length, thump stroking the tip.

back one of his friends is about to come over with two drinks in hand before he opts on saving his eyes and returns inside.

random movie nights:

to say that you two don’t care about accidental exhibitionism or audience would be an understatement because you can’t keep your hands off each other when you’re with close family and friends.

so being locked in your bedroom while your friends take of dinner isn’t exactly news for either of you.

you were supposed to finish sending some papers in for work, canonically impossible when your greek god of a boyfriend steps out the bathroom with a towel around his waist, way too low if you had a say about it considering you could see the veins popping from his v-line and down to—well, you know where to, line of fine hair from his navel disappearing below the towel, defined lean muscles, his pectorals, collarbones, neck, lips until you lock eyes, he’s got that glint you love.

that’s how you’re upside down head dangling off the bed, two of his fingers stuffed in your cunt and his dick down your throat, tongue splayed on the side of his length while actively fighting gagging reflexes because there isn’t person alive that could take your mouth off of him right now

candy eyes

a seven year age gap isn’t considered a big gap per se: it usually depends on the age the two individuals involved in it have.

in this case you’re nineteen, he’s twenty six and it’s messy.

“spend the night” his voice pulls you out of your thoughts. your sister, has once again forgotten she took your car and just left after snorting too much cocaine.

you look up to find him standing there in front of you shirtless, which really shouldn’t surprise you given you’ve seen him with much less on.

“i can’t” you pull him to you by the elastic of his shorts “i have to go check if she’s alright.”

“we can do that tomorrow, together.” he whispers against your mouth

nodding you peck his lips “lead the way then.”

getting to spend time with ferran felt like your own little oasis in the middle of the mess that was your life.

you’re also extremely aware that he could be leaving you anytime he wanted for all you know, and yet you don’t care.

you’ve been trying for all of your life to find someone that would care: and if it’s all a game for him then you don’t mind being used, as long as it means you get to be loved temporarily.

you met last year, jogging late at night. you had just graduated and he had just won the supercopa: both there for different reasons. he had steam to blow off and you were trying not to cry.

you had been friends for over a year.

odd friendship: but neither of you cared, it really did feel like you had found your soulmate sometimes, you’d share books, listen to new music together, eat in new places, or just the endless hours you’d spend on his living room floor just talking.

it had been strictly friendly until around four months ago, when you woke up with a hangover and a thousand texts by ferran.

two hours later he sat you down with coffee and tulips. “i am so sorry we were both drunk off our asses and then you started kissing me and i kissed you back.” you remember bursting into tears from how hard you’d laughed.

and after that it’s just been awesome sex and deep pillowtalk.

which is exactly how you’re right here now.

ferran between your legs, eating you out like it was his first meal in a long time, hands forcing your thighs wide open as he kept working his mouth on you.

you think you’re going to pass out from how good he’s making you feel, his tongue working all the right places. you know you’re a goner when his tongue flattens, putting delicious pressure against your sensitive bud.

your hand flies to his hair, pulling him off of you screaming his name.

“hey, i wasn’t done” he protests laying beside you, arm sneaking below your neck. you’re pulled closer to him while still trying regulate your breath.

the thing you appreciate about being with ferran is that he never goes down on you expecting you to do the same. of course he’s happy about it if you do, but the man lying next to you just loves pussy you’ve come to realize these couple months and you couldn’t be happier about it.

laying on your stomach looking at him, you could swear you know exactly what he’s feeling because you feel it too.

the fear, the pride, the guilt, the pressure.

for things neither of you have power over. waking up on mornings and trying to look for a reason to keep doing what you’re doing: put on those same jeans you’ve had for years and cook the same breakfast you’ve gotten used to forever ago now, watering your plants, food for your pets, clean, do the laundry, exercise and do it all over again.

the thousands pages you’ve never gotten to read, movies you’ve never watched, places you’ve never seen and then there’s ferran that makes you feel like you’ve got every single one of those things.

he’s helped you with your maría when you had to sit her down about the detoxification center two months into meeting you.

you were 14 and 16 when your mom passed away from cancer. it should’ve been the other way around: her taking care of you, that were younger, instead she got the free passes from dad. clubbing, sneaking out in the middle of the night and skipping school and never once getting scolded. making all the pressure fall on your shoulders: you took care of the house, you were the one to graduate top of the class, you had to pick up the pieces for your father and sister as if you hadn’t lost a mother too. but you put on a brave face and a smile and kept walking, your dad loved you of course but having already trouble with your older sister you did your very best to never once be a problem.

or when ferran helped you move all of your books out of your old bedroom into your new apartment, building bookshelves side to side when you started university.

“come back to earth?” his fingers snapping in front make you look up to him. “what are we doing?” he asks.

“what do you mean?” you laugh.

you’ve had naked pool days to yourselves, finger painting, making out on wet concrete.

dinner on the couch rewatching the amazing spider-man after spending the day worming out your bodies at the gym after he lost a match on thursday.

“i mean, we should make the most out of this.” he says playing with your hair. “we should stop hiding. let’s go public, i know i said i didn’t want to risk my career but i can’t pretend this is just fun. i don’t care if the world judges, i love you. i love watching your face in the morning trying to focus back to reality and not insult my entire bloodline in the process when i don’t shut up.

i love hearing things smashing around every time you’re trying to do anything at all.

i love how you get annoyed with your hair when it’s wet after you’ve had the sudden urge to cut a fringe and immediately regret for two minutes.

i love you, i love how you are with me, how you feel so deeply for the people in your life, and how amazing you are.”

in all your years you’ve longed for a life where someone could leave on the light for you. that one point in your life that would never change for any reason and you always could come back to.

but hearing ferran say that, has your whole nervous system frying up every cell.

do you love him? of course, more than life yourself.

do you still feel like you couldn’t breath? also yes, you can feel your throat closing up making you choke on your breath.

cause what if he’s lying? maybe he just saw you were acting different today and thought that saying i love you could help?

no no no, this isn’t actually happening. it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. why would someone like ferran want someone like you?

or maybe he’s following some book rule? if you go public, people would hate you. and ferran would realize how i’m not the right one and he deserves someone more like him.

your trembling mouth is doing its best ti put on a smile and not burst out crying like some insufferable baby.

his hand finds yours bringing it up to his lips, making contact with the little cigarette burn scar.

“don’t worry, i know.” he whispers pulling you into a warm but firm embrace and not letting go.

ferran’s three weeks off after the world cup are spent in ibiza, drinking his ass off and getting stopped for pics with fans: totally fine things.

what wasn’t fine were strangers with a big ass camera pointed your way every turn you took.

endless articles and said pics posted all over the internet, not letting you savor the rare days you get to spend together between his obligations and yours.

returning home from days of filming to him having flown to another city for a match you couldn’t attend.

not getting to be there much for each others milestones, but when you do work them out: him watching you receive and award or you attending celebratory dinners with the whole club, everything clicks into place.

that isn’t to say that you don’t spend quality time together because you do but they’re often rushed and mostly inside the privacy of your bedroom.

so to get the chance to trip together and having said privacy shattered it’s frustrating for the two, putting you in a bad mood.

“if you keep frowning any longer at that screen you’re gonna break it” ferran comes laying down behind you, arm wrapping around your waist pulling you against him.

your fingers thread thru his hair, whining annoyed you pull his face into your neck. “they’re saying i mistreat you.”

he chuckles. “if it’s any consolation, not that you should care but i do love getting yelled by you, makes me feel all type of things amore” he mumbles into your skin.

you turn around to face him and he takes that as an opportunity to place you on top of him, hands on either side of your hips.

“when did you get so wise?” you sit up tracing his collarbone with your fingers.

“when this really awesome goddess of a woman decided to be with me” he smirks pulling you into a kiss.

This, is the face of death in any football arena.

Whichever grass this man graced, it became sacred ground. If he gives you a card, YOU OBEYED IT. WITHOUT QUESTION. If he stares at you, YOU ARE MARKED.

Argentina today, especially this Enzo Hernandez motherfucker would shit his pants if he saw this man's eyes. I want to use the Force to put Pierluigi Collina's eyes inside Enzo's mind like an endless nightmare for the shit he did to Eric and Gavi. Still haven't forgotten it.

a couple minutes

pt1 here

the problem with ferran torres and what happened after you stormed out of his room is that now you can’t sleep.

the massive fight with your friends; the screaming, the harsh words, the way you slammed the door when leaving.

how you called your mom and she came to stay for over a week. what hurt most isn’t that he left but how he didn’t trust you enough to talk about it, to scream at each other’s face and then make out in the kitchen and let him fuck your brains out in the bedroom but he chose to leave instead.

growing up you never did have an example of how relationships should be. mom and dad were always fighting, while you and your brother soaked it all up.

how often one of them left without so much of a word and all you could do was wait for their return: sometimes it was good for a couple days, sometimes it was more screams as soon as the front door opened. couldnt possibly have been the healthiest environment for a kid.

after the divorce your father would forget to pick you up the weekends he was assigned to so that would lead to more court dates, then finally your mom remarried and you moved to spain, your brother visits every time he has days off work.

days in which you had these lovely brunches: mom with her husband, your brother with her girlfriend and you with ferran.

your family loved him and you loved his.

endless trips to ikea for the apartment, persuading him to give up the horrific bright yellow couch he wanted because in his opinion roma would’ve loved it so you made a bet: you’d train with him every morning if he was right but if he lost he’d have to paint the bathroom orange.

three days in he made you go and return it after roma threw up on it, once you got back you found him laying shirtless, full of paint and and orange bathroom still waiting for the tiles you later helped install.

and eating on the floor the five following days while waiting for furniture to be delivered.

the jar he’d tip every time you smoked, his disappointment digging your back.

that was the toughest fight you’d yet have: he hated it and you hated him for hating it because it wasn’t his place to decide what you could do and not do.

he’d lock himself in your room every time he returned home to you smoking and you spent the evening brushing your mouth over and over until there wasn’t any smell of tabacco left. you always found him wide awake when you went to sleep and always talked about how damaging smoking was and how he couldn’t loose you because of something reckless like smoking. when you conceded to only smoke when things were really bad for you he spent the night kissing and worshipping every inch of your body, waking up to him inside you in the morning and the run he had to make for the morning after pill.

the christmas presents you settled to buy in september after he completely forgot them the first year of dating.

you were cuddled up on the couch in front of the fireplace with hot chocolate watching it’s a wonderful life when a text from his family group chat by his sister telling us we had to bring the presents the night before in order to open the all together on christmas morning: the boiling chocolate slipping from his hand to your thigh. ending with a trip to the er with a second burn degree.

countless roadtrips, shared vacations, dinners with friends and barefoot dancing to mojo pin.

you look over at the clock, the same one you and ferran had bought after his niece smashed yours by playing ball together. it’s 02:14 am, letting a muffled scream into the pillow you walk over the tip jar right after finishing the cigarette. you check at the notifications on your phone frowning at the most recent one, from ferran:

can i come over?

oh right, another news after all that happened you had decided to start hanging out as friends from time to time: it was always super awkward and stiff, being friends with the love of your life, the casual talk and the fear of overstepping more so after you almost kissed and had a panic attack so bad that you ended in an alley throwing up and have been canceling on him ever since for the past two weeks. you’re biting at the dry skin of your lip pulling on it while drumming on the screen of your phone to think of an answer.

you click on his profile pic: it’s the one you had taken of him and his friends two years ago right after they had won the eurocup. you press call and his voice echoes thru the phone after the first ring. “come over.”

the door flies open before he even has a chance to knock. “hi”

“hi” you murmur moving to the side to let him pass.

carefully treading behind him.

“can i sit?” he points to the couch and you nod “go ahead”

“do you need anything?” you ask looking around.

he follows your stare in silence for a minute or so before shaking his hand. “only need you” you raise an eyebrow “is that so?”

“very much so.”

“that why you came over for?” you chuckle sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

“you’d have me go fuck someone else instead?” he asks in a mocking tone pulling the coffee table you’re sitting on and reducing the distance with one hand.

the only thing that can be heard in the room is your heavy breathing and his heartbeat against your palm, his thumb plays with your lower lip.

“can i kiss you?” he asks against your mouth, you surge forward closing the distance by pulling him into a kiss instead of answering such a stupid question.

he pulls you into his lap the moment your mouths touch, tilting your face to deepen the kiss, bullying his tongue into your mouth but you’re too busy stripping him down and feeling him up to care about control right now.

one moment you’re on the table kissing and the other you’re hoisted up, his hands on your ass your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer as he walks over the bedroom, laying you down and pinning your hands above your hands, placing sloppy kisses all over your chest. free hand busy playing with the elastic band of your thong, pulling and letting it rebound on your skin making you arch into him getting a satisfied smirk out of him.

he raises you chin making you look at him “tell me what you need”

you grab his waist to pull him closer, raising your hips to grind against his clothed cock.

“ah ah ah— he swats your hand away— you have to ask baby”

“please” you stare up at him wide eyed, he’s already looking down on you with a satisfied smile.

he kisses you again, right hand slipping between your legs to play with your clit at the same time his left hand wraps around your throat squeezing just enough to cut off your circulation.

“i’ll fuck you if you forgive me ok amor?” you writhe beneath his touch nodding “there’s nothing to forgive” you press a kiss on his temple, his eyes then his lips “so now fuck me”

he sits back flipping you over, pulling by the hips so you’re sitting on your knees.

“is this ok?” he asks against your ear lowering your thong leaving you completely exposed.

his warm palm on your back keeps you from jerking away when you feel him running his cock up and down your slit collecting your wetness before slowly pushing in, the stretch you had once been used to makes you bury your head into the pillows, his big hands messaging your shoulders to make you relax while he slides all the way in, fully seated inside you.

he hovers over turning your head to the side, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss full of the devotion and unsaid words, one hand intertwined with yours and the other playing with your nipple to distract and ease you into him.

when he notices your breathing change he starts moving with more confidence and firmness, hitting every single spot right making you clench around him, you start meeting his thrust moving against him with more fervor chasing your release.

he’s got a focused expression, biting down hard on his lip trying to concentrate and not to cum before you do, two fingers find your mouth pressing on your tongue to keep you quiet with both your noises getting louder and louder.

you’re so gone after your orgasm that you don’t register him pulling out at first only whining at the loss of contact. you look back just in time to watch him give a two lazy strokes before finishing all over your back.

“sex was all it took for you to forgive me?” he states to you both when you suspect it was more of an internal thought.

“if you’re good at it” you shrug continuing to play with his fingers, his arm around your shoulders and your head laying on his chest.

“have you found this?” he stretches reaching for something inside his side table, that had remained untouched since the day he left.

when he lays back down he’s got a deep green colored box.

“what’s that?” you stare at it unsure.

“it’s a ring.” he simply states opening the box to reveal a beautiful edwardian ring with a marquise diamond at the center with embossed floral details on the band.

“i bought this in florence during our anniversary, i went for a walk while you were sleeping and stumbled upon this jewelry shop and this ring was on display, i didn’t think about it too much: i went in and got it. when i saw you with frankie’s kids i realized right there and then that i was going to marry you and spend the rest of our lives together.”

“i don’t wanna put any pressure on you, but this has always been here, cause i’ve always known we would’ve taken that step someday. but now, i just want you to have it. no question, no stress you can put it on or lock it up.

but i wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

when ferran wakes up in the morning he does it to an empty bed. “amor? amore” he calls in his sleepy voice, you’re in the kitchen preparing coffee for the both of you: you pass him the cup, his fingers touching yours during the exchange.

what he doesn’t notice is the ring resting on your ring finger: shining with every slight movement.

you and ferran have been together for a couple months, so with the relationship being pretty new you avoided announcing it to the world, choosing to keep a low profile. there was a lot of sneaking around and covering up in order to spend time together in public.

it was mostly to prevent scandals and causing unnecessary rumors considering you were both public people: him a footballer and you a singer.

so when you got a call from your agent telling about how you had been sent a contract to a spotify collaboration for el clásico match all there was to say was YES.

ferran’s alarm starts ringing at 7:17 am the day of the el clásico earning an annoyed groan by you both. “five more minutes” he murmurs sleepily

“that’s your alarm dude, turn it off”

“don’t call me dude.” he wraps his arm around your waist pulling you on top of him burying his head in your neck “i’ve got the match today” you nod feigning your best nonchalance possible. thing is, he doesn’t know you’re the guest at today’s match, you and his team all working overtime to make sure he wasn’t included in any content nor interview.

you wanted to surprise him and i guess the surprise worked out pretty well if his face was any indication when he entered the stadium was performing, sitting first row in utter disbelief but phone out filming nonetheless, after the shock wore off he was singing every song along with fans and teammates.

“ok, this is one last song before the match starts you guys! and i’m dedicating it to someone very very special alright? so make some noise!” you speak into the mic out of breath before getting into position at the center of the stage while the music to sports car drops.

you perform all the song maintaining eye contact with ferran, his cheeks turning red while pedri and eric by the looks of it are having the time of their lives teasing him.

the match ends with a very nice 3-0 for barcelona, two goals out of three scored by ferran earning him the mvp.

you’re called to join him and all the team on the field by your manager while he’s giving interviews.

when he’s done with them, he walks over with the biggest grin on his face that mimics yours, pulling you into a bone crushing hug “you were amazing, i’m so proud of you” you push the wet hair out of his face, turning to the cameras and posing for pictures together.

his hand is way too low on your back for it to be respectful in any way and you have to fight the urge to kiss him right there and them before all these people.

he leans down, lips touching your ear. “we’re gonna take care of this later at home, my pretty lady.” he whisper biting softly before pulling away with a smirk.

the next morning when you check your phones you’re trending everywhere.