#football

[northern-punk-lad]

JKR is once again attacking a woman of colour

[rima-88]

◾For 80 days, Israel has closed the border crossings and prevented the entry of humanitarian aid into Gaza as a collective punishment. The failure to allow flour, cooking gas, and basic supplies into the Gaza Strip has caused famine and the death of children due to malnutrition.

◾Despite the many sad images you've seen of us in Gaza, this may be the first time you've seen this side of the tragedy. These are sacks filled with old, worn-out shoes for sale—not for us to wear, of course, but for us to burn and cook our food in!Each 5 kilos sells for 10 shekels (about $3).Imagine cooking your food on the fire of shoes.

Please share my story and spread it and if you are able, donate wherever you are.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart❤️‍🩹💘❤️‍🩹

[paucubarsisimp]

clinginess

pairing: pablo gavi x reader

summary: moments where pablo has been a clingy boyfriend

warnings: a bit suggestive

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

you were in the kitchen, humming softly, mixing pancake batter like it was your life’s purpose. the morning sun poured in through the window, casting golden stripes across the countertops and catching the specks of flour dust that floated lazily in the air. everything felt warm and soft and slow—until you felt a sharp smack on your ass.

you jolted, nearly dropping the whisk.

“pablo!” you yelped, turning around with wide eyes and a scandalized expression. he was leaning against the counter, wearing that stupidly charming half-smirk that meant he knew exactly what he was doing. his hair was a mess—curlier than usual from sleep—and he hadn’t even bothered with a shirt. typical.

“what?” he said innocently, hands raised like he was under arrest. “i was just appreciating the view.”

you squinted at him. “appreciate it without slapping it, maybe?”

“but your ass is amazing,” he said, without even a second’s hesitation. he looked genuinely baffled that you might not understand. “like… olympic level. top tier. i should write a song about it.”

you rolled your eyes and turned back to the batter, muttering something about dramatic footballers and their lack of kitchen etiquette. you barely got two stirs in before—smack.

“pablo!” you shrieked again, this time whipping around with the whisk raised like a weapon. he laughed and ducked behind the fridge door, peeking out at you with that infuriatingly smug look.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, trying not to smile, but he heard the affection in your voice anyway.

“you know,” he said thoughtfully, coming around and leaning his chin on your shoulder from behind, arms circling your waist, “if i were you, i wouldn’t even try to concentrate when i’m around. just give up. give in.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you said, but you leaned back into him anyway, your annoyance quickly melting into that familiar fondness you always felt around him. “i’m trying to make breakfast and you’re out here waging war on my dignity.”

he kissed your cheek lazily. “dignity’s overrated.”

you sighed, letting your head tilt against his. “if you touch my ass one more time, i swear i’ll throw this pancake batter at you.”

“worth it,” he said immediately.

and of course, he did it again.

you turned around, absolutely done, and shoved a spoonful of batter onto his nose. he gasped like you’d just betrayed him on a deeply emotional level.

“this is war,” he said, wiping the batter off his face with all the seriousness of someone who was about to lose a very dramatic pillow fight.

you crossed your arms. “bring it, gavi.”

five minutes later, the kitchen was a mess. batter on the walls, flour in his hair, syrup mysteriously dripping from the ceiling. both of you were out of breath from laughing, slumped against the cabinets like you’d just survived an apocalypse.

“you’re a menace,” you said, wiping a smear of whipped cream from his jaw.

he grinned, eyes sparkling. “but i make you laugh.”

you huffed a laugh and kissed him softly, flour and all.

“yeah,” you whispered against his lips, “you really do.”

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the thing about pablo is that he’s relentless. when he wants to be soft, he’s the softest. when he wants to be chaotic, you’re dodging flour bombs and fake tears. and when he wants to be dangerous?

god help you.

you were in the bedroom, finally folding the mountain of laundry that had been silently judging you all week. you were focused, headphones in, hoodie slipping off your shoulder as you worked through the pile. you didn’t hear the door creak open. didn’t hear the steps behind you.

but you did feel his hands slide slowly around your waist and his lips graze your neck.

you jumped, pulling an earbud out. “pablo—jesus—you scared me.”

he didn’t say anything at first. just kissed the space below your ear. slowly. deliberately.

“you know what’s crazy?” he whispered, voice low and raspy like he hadn’t spoken all day. “you in this hoodie is hotter than anything you could ever wear on purpose.”

you blinked. “this hoodie literally has a hole in it.”

“it’s my hoodie,” he said, kissing down your shoulder. “and you’re not wearing anything under it, are you?”

your breath hitched.

“pablo.”

“hm?”

“i’m trying to fold the laundry.”

he smiled against your skin. “and i’m trying to fold you.”

“oh my god,” you groaned, pushing him away with a hand on his chest, but he didn’t budge. he was warm and smug and entirely too close.

“come on,” he murmured, nipping gently at your jaw. “you’ve been folding stuff for like, twenty minutes. take a break.”

“you just want to cause trouble.”

“i want,” he said, sliding his hands up your thighs beneath the oversized hoodie, “to make you forget your name.”

you gasped, grabbing his wrists. “pablo!”

he grinned, boyish and wicked. “what? suddenly shy? you weren’t shy when you tackled me during the tickle war yesterday.”

you narrowed your eyes. “that was different. you started it.”

“and i’m starting this, too,” he said, lifting you effortlessly onto the edge of the bed.

your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and his hands found their way under the hoodie again, warm palms on bare skin, making you shiver.

“you’re unbelievable,” you whispered.

he kissed you like he was proving a point. slow, deep, intense—like the kind of kiss that feels like pulling the fire alarm in your chest. his fingers were gripping your hips now, pressing you against him like he couldn’t get close enough.

when you finally pulled back, breathless and a little dizzy, he grinned.

“still thinking about laundry?”

you laughed, forehead against his. “laundry doesn’t exist. only you. only this.”

“good,” he said, voice low and smug and full of love. “because i’ve got plans. and they involve you. and this hoodie. and about two fewer layers.”

you giggled, kissing him again. “you’re obsessed.”

“with you, yeah. absolutely. it’s terminal.”

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

you’d barely stepped into the lounge when pablo spotted you, sitting between pedri and pau, lazily scrolling on his phone. the second he saw you, he lit up like a kid on christmas morning.

“finally,” he muttered, standing up and crossing the room in a few long strides.

“hey—” you started, but before you could finish, he was already pulling you into his arms, wrapping you up like he hadn’t seen you in days.

you laughed against his chest. “missed me?”

“obviously,” he mumbled into your hair, not letting go. “i was going crazy without you.”

behind you, you could already hear the sighs and chuckles.

“not this again,” pedri groaned.

“can’t we have one peaceful day without pablo turning into a golden retriever?” ferran said, leaning his head back dramatically.

you tried to step away from pablo, but he just tugged you down onto the couch with him. not next to him — on him. his hands slipped around your waist, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek, then another to your jaw, slow and sweet.

“you’re warm,” he mumbled, tucking his face into your neck. “stay.”

“clingy,” you teased, resting your hand on his chest.

“yup,” he said without shame, planting another kiss just under your ear.

pau made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “i swear he wasn’t like this before.”

“she broke him,” fermín added. “this is love-struck pablo now. total simp mode.”

“do you even hear them?” you asked softly.

“nope.” pablo kissed your temple. “only hear you.”

“ugh,” pedri muttered. “he’s lost.”

you turned to look at the others, who were now watching like they were witnessing a soap opera.

“we’ve been replaced,” hector said with a hand on his heart.

“we never stood a chance,” pau nodded.

you giggled, and pablo tilted his head up, eyes shining. “see? she thinks i’m cute.”

“you are cute,” you admitted, pressing a quick kiss to his nose.

he beamed, then kissed you full on the mouth — slow, soft, and completely ignoring the loud groans that followed.

“no shame at all,” ferran said, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at the two of you.

pablo caught it with one hand, not even pulling away from the kiss. when he finally broke it, he looked at the group with the most smug expression you’d ever seen.

“jealousy looks bad on you.”

“get a room,” pedri muttered, not even looking up from his phone anymore.

but pablo just shrugged, leaning back with you still in his lap, arms snug around your waist.

“nah,” he said, kissing your cheek again. “i’ve got everything i want right here.”

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

you didn’t plan on going to training with pablo.

but he woke you up that morning — hoodie half-on, sleepy curls, eyes soft — and said, “come with me?”

you blinked at him, still groggy. “to training?”

“just for a bit. please?”

and like always, you said yes. because it was pablo. and he asked so sweetly.

the second you stepped onto the pitch, chaos.

“look who it is!” fermín shouted from across the field.

“our favorite person!” pedri grinned, jogging over with open arms like he hadn’t just seen you two days ago.

“hi, mi reina,” ferran said dramatically, grabbing your hand and kissing it like some medieval lord. “you grace us with your presence.”

pau gave you his water bottle. hector offered you his hoodie. pablo was standing next to you, staring at them like they were handing you diamond rings.

“you guys are so dramatic,” you laughed, taking a seat on the bench.

“only for you,” pau winked.

pablo dropped his bag next to you and crossed his arms. “okay, relax.”

“someone’s jealous,” pedri muttered under his breath.

“i’m not jealous,” pablo snapped, tugging off his jacket. “i just think it’s weird how nice you all are when my girlfriend shows up.”

fermin raised an eyebrow. “our girlfriend, technically.”

“you wanna run laps?”

“you wouldn’t.”

pablo pointed toward the field. “try me.”

you were laughing now, head in your hands. “you guys are so dumb.”

but it didn’t stop there.

you watched practice from the sidelines — and every time you clapped or smiled, one of the boys would flash a grin, throw a wink, or yell, “that one was for you!”

“she’s not your coach,” pablo called back, annoyed.

you blew him a kiss anyway. he blushed. hard.

after training, they all swarmed you again.

“so, you coming next time?” pedri asked, handing you a protein bar.

“we can get you a jersey,” pau offered.

“matching one with mine,” pablo cut in, sliding between you and them with his arm around your waist. “she’s wearing mine.”

fermin held his chest like he was wounded. “so possessive.”

“you guys can stop flirting with my girlfriend any time now,” pablo muttered, lips brushing your ear.

“but she likes it,” ferran teased.

“she likes me more.”

you smiled up at him, eyes soft. “he’s right.”

the boys groaned like you’d betrayed them.

“this is pain,” hector said dramatically, falling to the turf.

“you broke our hearts,” pedri whispered.

but pablo just kissed your forehead and smirked. “told you.”

don't forget to leave a request!

[obvithe-bestsoph]

señora fort.

masterlist requests word count: 1k

a/n: i swear i haven't posted for hector in ages, so hopefully you all enjoy this! there is now a follow-up set of headcanons for this fic, all about how hector is while planning the wedding, and then what he's like as a husband. these are here! genre: fluff/comfort warnings: none.

summary: when you started having doubts about getting engaged so young, hector is there to comfort and remind you of everything that the two of you have.

You’re sitting on Héctor’s bed, cross-legged, wearing his hoodie, his pillow across your lap, scrolling on your phone, looking at all the photos the photographer had captured. The ring on your finger still feels like a dream, one you never want to wake up from. 

Héctor walks back in, laughing as he sees you zoned out, your gaze on the (gold/silver) band. Teasing as always, he practically rugby tackles you down onto the bed so you’re lying beneath him, his lips playfully attacking the side of your neck with kisses as you laugh too. 

Eventually, he pulls away, grinning. “It’s not gonna disappear if you take your eyes off it, you know?”

To everyone else, your engagement had been impulsive and reckless. But to you and Héctor, it had always felt inevitable. You’d grown up attached at the hip, your lives forever intertwined since you were small children. Falling in love had been quiet, but certain. Getting engaged had felt the same. 

You’ve both just barely turned eighteen. Both of your parents had stared at the two of you in stunned silence when you told them. Their reactions hadn’t been angry, as such, simply… hesitant. Like they were waiting for you to tell them it was a joke. Like they thought it was a phase. Young love or something. 

Héctor sees your smile fade a little. “Hey, what’s that face for?” he asks, his own tone softening as he tilts your head to look up at him. 

“I just… I don’t want everyone to think we’re stupid,” you mutter quietly, twisting the ring around your finger. “Or reckless. Like we don’t know what we’re doing.” You hate admitting it, but it’s how you feel. 

Héctor sits the two of you up again, practically pulling you into his lap. He kisses the top of your head and leaves his lips there, speaking against your hair. “We’re not stupid,” he says. “We just… love each other. And I don’t think that’s anyone’s business to have an opinion other than us.” 

He spends nearly 5 whole minutes telling you about the moment he knew he was going to propose. It wasn’t some dramatic thing when you were all dressed up for a fancy event or dinner, it was just one of those peaceful, quiet mornings where you were making breakfast together, he just in his sweatpants, you in nothing but one of his oversized t-shirts. And how, in that moment, he realised that he never wanted to live without those mornings, and thought, “That’s my señora.” 

You laugh softly, eyes still a little teary. “That’s a stupid reason, Héctor.” He grins and shrugs. “Probably. But it’s just how it happened. It felt right.” His confidence makes your anxiety quiet slightly, in a way not many other things can.

But even the comfort of his arms around you can’t completely take away your fears. You think about what your mamá said, “Why rush? Why not wait until you’re a little older?” or how his papá had asked, “What if you grow apart?”

The fears seem to crawl in when it’s quiet.

“I know people will talk,” he says quietly. “People always talk. But when they do, we’ll just look at each other, and all their stupid, useless words will melt away, and it’ll be just us.”

You want to believe him. You really do. “Do you really think we’ll make it?” you blurt out before you have time to stop yourself. 

“I know we will,” Héctor says firmly. “Because you’re it for me. My woman. My love. And I don’t care if we’re 18 or 80, I’d ask you to marry me all over again.”

There’s a comfortable silence for a few moments. 

“You remember all the times I would pretend to propose to you at the playground when we were kids?” You laugh softly, “Of course I do.” “Well, when you start thinking about all those worries and doubts, just remember how happy those stupid little kids would be to find out we’re engaged for real,” he smiles back down at you.

“True… okay. Let’s do it. We’ll get married,” you grin, squeezing him. 

You start talking about the wedding, not big or flashy, just something small, just for the people who matter the most to both of you. Maybe a beach. Maybe a garden. Definitely somewhere warm, sunny, and happy.

And when he calls you “Señora Fort” for the first time, you go bright pink and giggle until your face hurts from smiling. But then he repeats it, softer, more serious. “Really, though. You’re gonna be my wife. Forever and ever,” he murmurs, holding you a little tighter.

Later that night, lying with him in bed, attempting (and failing) to sleep, Héctor breaks the peace and quiet of the room. “Promise we won’t lose this?” he rolls over to face you. “Promise we’ll still cuddle and make out in bed even when we’re, like, gross and old and wrinkly?” he smiles softly.

“Promesa, mi amor.” You smile, giving him a small peck on the lips as he pulls you back against his chest.

You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat, your ring on the nightstand sparkling in the moonlight that floods through the window. Your doubts are quieter now, still there, but… no longer in control.

Because love isn’t about perfect timing, or doing whatever other people think is the logical decision, or makes sense. It’s about finding someone who feels like home - and building something special together, even when it’s scary, even if you’re only eighteen. 

As you drift off, the name “Señora Fort” is flowing through your mind, as well as images of him in a suit at the altar, maybe some babies, and a whole lot of love and smiles. 

[gnosticgnoob]

​​PROTEST 04/19 -- COME AND PROTEST APRIL 19TH, JOIN A MOVEMENT THE LIKES OF WHICH HAS NOT BEEN SEEN IN THE USA. OR COUNTER-PROTEST IF YOU AREN’T TOO MUCH OF A RIGHTWING PUSSY BITCH 🗽🗽🗽

[semifinaldraw]

and when I lost you, I lost some good love and a hand, a hand to bite

[taevincii]

Some BTS footage of Justin’s 2019 Oregon Media Day. (Ft. Troy Dye)

The Oregonian

[judesgirly]

He’s so tall…

[paucubarsisimp]

Soooo I have a Hector Fort request...Reader is from the U.S and her friend is on the womens Barcelona team. Reader goes to visit her friend, and Hector sees her and is like who is she and is asking around about her, but if you don't want to do it that is totally fine I literally love your writing sm.

soft starts

pairing: hector fort x reader

summary: im which you meet hector while visiting your best friend

warnings: none!

a/n: i don't like it, probably gonna rewrite it

you weren’t supposed to catch anyone’s attention.

you were just visiting barcelona for two weeks, staying with your best friend salma during a break in your own schedule. the city was gorgeous, warm in that early-spring kind of way, and you were just grateful for time off. no responsibilities. no stress. just fresh air, café con leche, and hanging out with your favorite person.

well… your favorite person until someone new entered the chat.

you first noticed him on your third day.

you were sitting on the edge of the practice pitch, sipping from a water bottle while the barça femení team wrapped up training. salma was in beast mode as usual — all speed and precision, leaving defenders trailing — but your focus drifted as a few of the first-team guys walked past on their way to recovery.

one of them slowed.

he had dark curls, loose and a little windswept, and a curious kind of gaze — sharp, but soft at the same time. he was wearing a training kit with “32” on the shorts, and his eyes found yours for a split second.

he smiled. not a grin. not a smirk. just something subtle. a “hi, i see you” kind of smile.

you looked away instantly, cheeks heating.

but he didn't.

from across the pitch, he leaned over to pau, murmuring something. pau looked your way and shrugged, clearly amused.

“hector’s asking about you,” salma said casually later, peeling an orange with her fingers. “he asked if you were a player or just a really pretty visitor.”

you choked on your drink. “he said that?”

“more or less. i added the pretty part because it’s true.” she tossed a wedge into her mouth. “but yeah. he’s into it.”

you saw him again the next day.

this time at the gym, where you were tagging along with salma for her recovery session. you stayed off to the side, earbuds in, flipping through your playlist, when a voice pulled you out of your focus.

“hey. you’re salma’s friend, right?”

you looked up — and there he was.

hector in a gray barça training tee, curls damp, cheeks a little flushed from whatever circuit he’d just finished.

“yeah,” you said, pulling out one earbud. “i’m y/n.”

“i’m hector,” he said, even though you both knew you already knew that.

you smiled. “i’ve heard.”

he raised a brow. “all good things, i hope.”

you nodded slowly, playing along. “depends who you ask.”

he laughed, eyes crinkling. “can i ask you instead?”

you blinked. “me?”

“yeah,” he said, resting a hand on the edge of the weight rack. “i feel like you’ve been here a few days now, and i’d kind of like to get to know you. if that’s okay.”

you tried not to smile too much. failed a little.

“you’re asking me out?”

he shrugged. “depends. are you saying yes?”

you looked at him, really looked — he was young, but there was a confidence in his voice that didn’t feel forced. just calm. curious.

“coffee,” you said. “but you have to pick the place.”

“deal,” he grinned. “you drink iced, don’t you?”

you squinted. “how’d you guess?”

he tapped his temple. “instinct. or maybe i asked salma. you’ll never know.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling.

that evening, salma walked into the apartment to find you flopped on the couch, texting with a dumb grin on your face.

“hector?” she asked, tossing her bag down.

you nodded without looking up.

she smirked. “called it.”

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

[tracksuitlesbian]

[taevincii]

Comfy, cozy king

[ahmedgazarasha]

Every donation creates a smile. Be part of those smiles.

‼️Please read and share! ‼️

This campaign is for @ahmedgaza6 . Ahmed is 34 years old, married and with four children. He and his family have lost so much from the occupation, including their own home. They have to work so hard just to obtain the smallest amounts of food to keep them going.

You can help Ahmed and his family, though. If you are able to, please d0nate to the link above to help Ahmed care for him and his family and provide them with a better life. Their campaign is extremely, extremely weak and has only received €566 out of their €20,000 goal. This is only 3% raised, any amount you can give will help. If you cannot d0nate, then please share this post or the posts on his account.

His campaign is vetted! To see the vetting information, as well as more of his story, please refer to the post linked in this paragraph

[judesgirly]

Silly Jude is my favourite Jude.

[alex1a-ps]

💪🏻

[thomas-mvller]

Harry Kane (12') Konrad Laimer (19') Kingsley Coman (36') Joshua Kimmich (56') FC Heidenheim | 0 - 4 | FC Bayern München 2024/2025 Bundesliga - matchweek 30