#la liga explained

[peligrosapop]

If you don't mind answering, why do u hate Real Madrid and Espanyol? I ask this without harm. I just want to know why when you support a club you tend to hate others even if they play good football.

You give really good answers with valid arguments and information, that's why I want to know. If these clubs are actually shit or if it just bc they are barca rivals.

Hello, this is a really old anon but this needed a long answer and I"m finally ready to write it down Espanyol literally means Spanish, as in Spain, in Catalan. So part of this rivalry is Catalanism independence vs Catalanism united to Spain, although now they are more into their Catalan identity than before they are still not an pro-independence club like Barcelona. They are infamous for having really fucking nasty chants agaisnt our player. In the peak of Pique's pro-independence media attention and still with Shakira, Espanyol had nasty chants against him and included Shakira in the attacks. He famously scored in of those occasions in their stadium and signaled for them to shut up. This year we saw how their ultras came to literally physically attack FcB players, just unhinged behavior. I'm glad they are in segunda tbh. I would understand a deep rivalry but it goes beyond that. It's party political/culturally but also their ultras are nasty. With Real Madrid it is also very much political and cultural but also historical. Real Madrid represents the status quo of power in Spain. (FcB would is more left wing republicanism and pro independence and center left leaning) It's a pro-monarchy, Franco-loved and backed club, all ex players or officials control every aspect of La Liga's power and also most of the sports media as well. They have close ties with fascism, not only historical but also in the present. Only a month ago a few of their ultras were chanting "Siempre fascista, siempre madridista" which translates to "Always a fascist, always a RM fan". Also if you didn't know, back in the day, they literally stole on of our big signings. De Stefano, who then became of their more historic goal scorers. When we brought him over to sign him the league stopped it and said he would have to switch every year between RM and FcB. FcB refused and he went to play with RM. During years they refs always ruled in RM favor even when it was obvious it was a call agaisnt them. One time when Johan Cruyff was playing for us it got so heated bc of ref's calls than Cruyff was escorted out of the pitch by police for denouncing it. We saw the disgusting video they published this year against Barcelona saying we were favored by Franco, when everything about Catalunya and it's identity including FcB was constantly being repressed at the time. Just a disgusting club, as an institution. They are always favored and corrupt. If you look at their VIP section it's like who's whos of conservative politicians. judges, big money interested etc. So. yes. it's not JUST a sporting rivalry. I fucking dislike these clubs and wish them the worst.

[le010n11]

I'm in need of some Ronald araújo pics & gifs!!

I have been looking for gifs of him to use as a header but couldn't fine any :⁠'⁠(

[alexi-01]

https://www.tumblr.com/alexi-01/742390966456074240/war-is-over nope, sport just published that la liga denies any agreement

yeah i know just couldn’t be arsed anymore

[leilakisakabiri]

Liar, Liar (Gavi)

Summary: Gavi thinks you’re cheating on him. 

Warning(s): None

A/N: Thank you guys for all the love on The Promises We Keep. My inbox is open!

Word Count: 3.3k+

Masterlist

Gavi still remembered how alone he felt that day. It was the day of the semifinal for La Liga, one of the biggest games of his career, and one of the most important days of his life, and instead of being excited and focusing all his attention on the upcoming game, all he could think about was you.

Were you getting undressed for someone else right now? Did you even love him anymore?

He felt his heart tug painfully, and his mind wandered as he got lost in the what-ifs and maybes surrounding your relationship. Or lack thereof now he guessed.

Never in his life did he think he would ever be in this position. Growing up he had never loved anything as much as he loved football, and when he finally made Barca’s A team he swore he never would. However, that slowly started to change when you came into his life.

You were the cute girl next door, spending a year abroad in Barcelona and attending the same school as his hometown friends. The first time he had met you was when you were walking towards your apartment, hands filled with a random assortment of papers, textbooks, and chargers. The stack of textbooks partially obstructed your view and you missed a step causing you to go flying into the midfielder.

You let out a yelp as you hit the boy, papers falling to the ground.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry! I didn’t see the step.” You frantically apologized, bending down to gather your things.

The boy stood still.

You looked up at him from the ground, “Oh my god you’re not hurt are you?” You asked, stressed about the fact that you could have injured the poor guy.

“I’m fine.” He said, finally bending down and helping you collect your things.

You both stood up and stared at each other for a second, unsure what to say before you broke the silence.

“I’m Y/n.” You said, hand outstretched to greet him.

“Pablo.” he introduced himself, reaching out to shake your hand, laughing at your formality.

You felt your cheeks turn red, “Sorry was that too formal? I’m still trying to learn the customs and stuff. Guess Google didn’t do a good job.”

The boy smiled at you, “No problem. I’m guessing you’re not from here then?”

You shook your head, taking a minute to adjust the various things in your arms, “No I’m an exchange student actually, from the States.”

Gavi nodded, “That explains the accent.”

Your cheeks turned even redder, “Haha yah. Still working on that.” You meekly responded, breaking eye contact.

Damn it. Barely one week in a new city and you were already known as an outsider.

It was silent after that and you took it as a sign to move on with your day, “Well thanks. And sorry again.” You said, beginning to walk past him.

“Let me help you.” Gavi said, turning to face you.

“Oh no worries, my apartment’s right here.” You gestured pointing to the door next to the one he had come out of.

“You’re Mateo’s neighbor?”

You looked at him surprised, “You know Mateo? Yeah, I live next door.”

He nodded, “We’re childhood friends.”

“So do you go here as well?” You asked.

The boy shook his head, “Nah, just visiting.”

“Ok well see you around I guess.” You said, waving bye.

He gave you a wave back.

“Oh, also most people carry bags around for their stuff here!” Gavi shouted at your retreating figure.

You spun around, seeing him facing you with a grin, both of you walking backward, “I got robbed!” You exclaimed.

Gavi felt himself let out a soft smile at the memory before his brain caught up to his heart and then he was drowning in heartache all over again thinking about what he had just lost.

“Joder!” Gavi yelled, his hand slamming against the locker as he saw the call go to voicemail again.

“You ok hermano?” Pedri asked, entering the empty locker room, finding the younger boy sitting on the bench, looking extremely upset, hands shaking, and breathing labored.

“I think- I think Y/N’s cheating on me.”

The words came out barely above a whisper, and Gavi ducked his head the second he said them, the situation hitting a hundred times harder now that he had admitted it to himself.

Pedri looked at him in shock.

When he had come into the locker room, looking for a very late Gavi, he hadn’t expected to find the midfielder not only unchanged but also in such a vulnerable state.

“Why would you say that?” Pedri spoke carefully, treading lightly, not wanting to make Gavi more upset.

Gavi pulled something up on his phone, handing it over. It was an Instagram story.

A video shared by your friend meant to share the club she was at, but also unknowingly sharing you in a very compromising position.

Pedri watched as the video panned to you in a black lace dress, drink in hand, as a guy twice your size leaned into you, hands possessively laid on your waist, pulling you into him far too close to be considered friendly.

You were only in the video for a second but there was no denying it was you. You were wearing the same dress you had worn for Gavi’s birthday dinner just a few months prior.

He bit his lip not knowing what to say. He thought it could have been a misunderstanding, but seeing the video he was beginning to doubt it.

He didn’t say anything handing the phone back to Gavi.

The boy looked up at him, eyes glistening, “You saw it too right?”

Pedri sighed, “Yah. I’m sorry Pablo.”

Gavi slowly nodded, turning away from Pedri as he fought to keep his emotions at bay.

“Fucking great. Now she won’t even answer me.” He muttered throwing his phone carelessly to the side.

“And what’s the matter with you two?” Xavi walked into the locker room, seemingly not pleased with how long it was taking the two to come out.

“Game starts in twenty and you’re both dilly-dallying like some preschoolers. Get moving. Gavi get changed.” He ordered.

“Coa-” Gavi began to speak, but Xavi cut him off.

“I don’t care. Deal with it later, game first. Out in five.” He pointed to both boys before walking out.

Pedri gave Gavi one last pat on the back, “Don’t think about it now. Focus on the game.”

“It’s the only thing I can think about.” Gavi admitted.

“How could she do this? Does she not care about me, about us?” Gavi’s voice wavered, and he took a sharp inhale trying to calm himself down.

Just talking about it was emotional. He couldn’t even imagine how having a conversation with you after would feel.

Would you pretend nothing had happened? Was this your way of letting him know you guys were over? Would he ever even get to talk to you again?

There were too many unanswered questions and Gavi felt himself getting overwhelmed as he considered the possibilities.

He grabbed his jersey, forcing himself into autopilot as he put it on. He felt like he was floating, watching over himself as he did all the things he was supposed to. He watched as he joined his teammates, listened to Xavi’s instructions, and took his place in the starting lineup.

Walking onto the field, even the thousands of cheering fans did nothing to interrupt his thoughts, all of them consumed with you.

He sang the anthem, and then before he knew it he was standing in the middle of the pitch, kicking the ball into play.

The first fifteen minutes of the game went as normal, he did everything he was supposed to, running to assist the attack whenever possible, and staying back whenever the opposition got too close to the goalpost. To everyone, he was playing exactly how he normally would, and while he was grateful that he didn’t seem to be costing his team too much, he would be lying if he said he was dedicated to the game, and he hated himself for that. Mentally he was still in the locker room, replaying the moment he had seen the post over and over again in his head, memorizing the way you had looked, in his favorite dress, pressed up against someone that wasn’t him. The pain was all-encompassing, something he had never felt before, and all he wanted to do was plead with you not to leave him, to love him like you had promised.

The referee blew his whistle, indicating a foul had been made. Gavi looked up at the noise being pulled from his thoughts, he squinted seeing something behind the shouting ref.

His breath hitched. Suddenly he was crashing back into himself. It felt like being soaked with ice-cold water while simultaneously being pricked by the same needle repeatedly.

He thought he was going to vomit.

Because there you were, like you always were, standing in the family section, in his jersey, a smile on your face as you waved down at him.

Based on the fact that you were even here he assumed you didn’t know he knew.

That for some reason got him angrier than he had ever been.

He clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he turned his back to you.

So you were just going to pretend. Go and hook up with random guys and then come back to him acting like an angel.

Your smile slowly fell, confused by his reaction. You were sure he had seen you, but his expression had been anything but happy. He looked pissed.

Anna, who was sitting beside you also noticed, “Why does he seem mad?”

You shrugged your shoulders, a frown on your face as you sat back in your seat, “I have no idea.”

Your brain raced through everything that had happened in the last few days, trying to pinpoint what you did for Gavi to be mad at you. You couldn’t come up with anything. You had just got back from France, spending the weekend away for your friend’s birthday, surely, he couldn’t be mad about that. You had already talked about it and he had practically shoved you out of his car when you had asked,

“Y/n I’m serious why would you even ask me that? Of course, you can go, I’m not going to control your life.” He exclaimed, shocked by your question.

You had asked him if he was okay with you going to spend the weekend with your friend in France, and he had been less than pleased with your question.

You laughed at his offended expression, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “I know, and I love you for that. I just wanted to double check though.”

He smiled softly, “Yeah, yeah. Now get out of my car I’m going to be late!”

You smiled at the memory, sure that he wasn’t mad at you for that. So then why did he not wave back?

You had missed his calls earlier this morning on purpose wanting to surprise him by coming to his game, but you never received a text from him saying anything was wrong.

The game continued, and you cheered along with the crowd.

Gavi was playing especially aggressively today, tackling players left and right, and shoving into them the moment they got the ball.

You bit your lip anxiously, you knew if he kept playing like this it was only a matter of time before he got a red card.

Your suspicions were confirmed not even ten minutes later when Gavi had slide tackled another player, sending them flying to the ground.

Immediately the whistle blew, bodies surrounding the two players as an argument broke out. You shot out of your seat, leaning over the railing to see Gavi standing in the middle. The player he had tackled had finally stood up saying something to him. In an instant, Gavi was shoving into the much larger player, screaming at him with such fury you would have thought he had just killed his family.

It only took a minute for the ref to make a decision and then he was holding up a red card for Gavi. The player in question let out a loud yell, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set.

You watched as he shook his head in anger, walking off the pitch, eyes blazing.

You tried to make eye contact with him, but he purposely avoided looking at the stands as he disappeared into the tunnels.

The other player got a yellow card but otherwise, everything continued as normal.

You sat in your seat for another five minutes contemplating what to do when Anna decided for you, “Aren’t you going to down and see him?” She questioned.

You nodded your head slowly, trying to fight off the feeling that something was wrong, “Yeah, I just wanted to give him some time to cool down, but I’m going now.”

You stood up, an uneasy feeling in your heart as you walked towards the locker rooms.

The guard let you in without question, used to seeing you after games.

You took small steps toward the locker room, why were you so nervous?

You heard a loud bang inside and instinctively rushed in, scared Gavi had hurt himself.

You found him sitting on the floor against the bench, hands wrapped around his legs, head buried in his chest as he rocked back and forth.

Your heart broke at the sight. He looked so vulnerable.

“Pablo.” You spoke.

Gavi’s head shot up and he looked at you with so much disdain that your guard shot 100 feet up, but you stood rooted in place.

“You cost me the game.” He spoke, voice thick with emotion.

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s your fault. You did this. You made me like this.”

“What? Pablo I don’t under-”

The boy cut you off, standing up, the hurt in his eyes had you reeling, “Of fuck off Y/n, you know what you did. Stop acting so innocent.”

You were stumbling over your words not used to seeing his gaze so venomous, “I do-don’t know what you’re ta-talking about.”

He laughed dryly at your words, taking a step closer to you, “Oh really so when you fucked that guy last night you weren’t thinking “Oh maybe this might hurt Pablo”, you were just thinking, “Eh what he won’t know won’t hurt him”. Well guess what? I know.”

Your throat went dry, your eyes widening at his words. He took your actions as confirmation.

“See you do know what I’m talking about it. We’re done Y/n I can’t believe I let myself love you.”

You stood in silence.

“Do you even love me?” His voice cracked as he looked at you.

He shook his head moving to walk past you, but you jumped into action, desperate not to let him leave. Your brain was still processing everything he said but you knew if you let him walk away now that would be the end, and you couldn’t let him leave thinking you didn’t love him.

You grabbed his wrist and he immediately spun around, glaring at you, “Don’t fucking touch me.” He seethed.

You relented, refusing to let go, “Pablo, please. Just listen to me. Don’t walk away!’ You pleaded.

“I don’t have to, you already did when you decided to fuck that random guy.” He yelled.

“I didn’t. I didn’t fuck him. I swear, baby just listen to me.”

“I’m not your baby.” He answered voice cold.

You felt his words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you physically took a step back from him, dropping his hand.

He didn’t move.

“I never cheated on you. I love you, you know I would never do that, you’re too important to me.”

His anger only bubbled, “Apparently, I don’t know anything. How are you going to deny it when there’s evidence?”

“Evidence what evidence?” You asked exasperated.

“Why don’t you ask your friend Angela? At least she did me a favor by posting you pressed up against someone else.”

The realization finally hit you. He must have seen you with the guy last night, that’s why he was so upset, and you not answering his calls this morning must have just fueled his suspicions.

You suddenly felt so tired, everything was falling apart, and you didn’t have it in yourself to scream at Gavi anymore.

You sighed, walking past Gavi dropping to the floor, leaning against the locker room door.

“What are you doing?” He questioned.

“Gavi, I know you’re mad but I’m not letting you leave until you let me at least explain myself, and if you still want to hate me after then that fine. But first, just listen please.” Your voice came out gentle, all the anger dissipated.

He shook his head in anger, “You can’t fucking trap me in here. Move out of the way Y/n. Now.”

You shook your head in resistance, “No. I know how you are; I know you feel so angry right now you can’t think straight. But I promise you if you just give me a minute, I’ll explain everything. I don’t want a miscommunication to be the reason you hate me.”

He was silently fuming, but he made no move to leave.

You continued, “I’m taking it you saw the video?”

Gavi didn’t say anything but by the way his hands balled into fists you knew you were right.

You nodded, “Ok, well it was me.”

You heard Gavi let out a scoff.

“That guy was pressed into me, but what the video didn’t show was me pushing him off me not even five seconds later, drunkenly yelling at him that I had a boyfriend that I loved very much, and who was much prettier than he was. I know it probably looks bad in the video, but he was just so much bigger than me that it took me a minute to fight him off.”

“Also, when he first came up to me, I genuinely thought he was asking me directions for the bathroom, not asking me to go with him.” You clarified.

It was silent.

“Why were your arms around him?”

“I was shoving him away. Obviously, I can’t do that with just my mind – no matter how much I want to.” You tried to lighten the mood, but Gavi only sighed.

Your shoulders deflated; he didn’t believe you.

You moved to the side of the door, “You can leave.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Gavi spared you one last glance before he walked out the door, leaving you alone in the locker room.

Your eyes watched him leave and the second the door shut behind him you covered your mouth with your hands, shoulders shaking as you let out the sobs you had been holding in.

Is this what being heartbroken felt like? Sure, you had relationships that end in the past on less-than-stellar terms, but never had you felt like this. Like you couldn’t breathe, like every small breath was squeezing your body, leaving you with no oxygen and an unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You sniffled, trying to pull yourself back together. You had to leave before the game ended and the team came back.

You were in the middle of wiping your tears when the door swung open again.  

“Fuck this, I’m not leaving. I took five steps before I realized how stupid I’m being. I believe you. I trust you – but it’s just so hard because my mind is screaming at me to leave but all my heart is thinking about is how I’m letting go of the most real thing I’ve ever felt, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left you like that all alone.” Gavi spoke, voice firm as he came to sit next to you.

You looked over at him with wide eyes, “You came back?”

He nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he scooched closer to you, “I always will.”

[masonmyluv]

Part 8

A/N: 2 parts left from this story 🥲

Warnings: jealousy

Read the full story here

Another day at Uni after he just scored yet another La Liga goal. He was buzzing, but had to be on time for classes. He was sure the whole university will congratulate him again.

"Our boy Fermin is back!"

You looked up from your notes to see Fermin being congratulated by the whole class. People hugging him, patting him on the back. "Thanks man" he kept saying, trying to make his way to his place. You felt a déjà-vu from when he scored his first goal. It happened just the same, with him sitting near you, except that now he had a coffee cup, then him asking you to help him study, and all the things that happened which led to you two being together. "Morning. This is for you" he smiled, putting the coffee cup near your book. "Thanks, Fermin".

"Are you feeling better? After last night" Fermin asked. "Huh?" You asked confused. "Come on, you have to tell me what happened" he whined as you quietly ate your sandwich. You didn't like the attention you got from the entire university that Fermin was sitting with you at lunch time. "Nothing happened. It was an amazing night. Can we stop talking about that?" You snapped. "And they say communication is key" Fermin mumbled, placing his hand on your right knee, which didn't go unnoticed by his girl fans. "We aren't public, so stop acting like that" you said, pushing his hand away. "Okay I get it, your bad mood is still present" Fermin said. "And I'll get you to tell me why".

After classes, at which Fermin wasn't present because he had training, but promised he'll pick you up, you were waiting for him in front of the University building. "Have you seen her? He's definitely not in love with her" a group of girls passed by you.

"He should be with me. See? I have boobs and a big ass"

"Look at how she dresses. A nerd"

"I bet he wouldn't even have sex with her because she's so ugly"

You tried not to cry hearing those because they weren't true. Or were they? You weren't the most popular girl, yet Fermin was dating you. You weren't the one to wear designer clothes, but Fermin did. He never really told you his type of girl, but now that you thought about it, he would surely want a tall, skinny, boobs and ass girl, just like any football player.

"It's not true what they say" Adrian, the nerdy guy from your class, said. "Maybe it is" you shrugged. "I'm sure it's not. Not every boy wants boobs and ass. I prefer brain" he said, making a nerdy joke which actually made you smile. "Thanks Adrian. That's Fermin, I better go" you said, waving at your colleague.

Meanwhile, Fermin was watching the little interaction between you and Adrian. What did he say that made you smile? He always thought you would end up together because Adrian was basically your masculine version, the nerdy guy. Obviously he thought you weren't nerdy, you were just smart. "Hey again. How was training?" You asked, climbing in his car.

He tried to hide the fact that he was jealous, but it didn't really work when his reply sounded harsher than he intended to. He saw how your mood changed, just like that time with the presentation, and neither of you spoke about it.

"Thanks" you said, hurrying to your flat. "Y/N, we need to talk" Fermin said, following you. "I'm tired" you replied. "Me too. But I want to know what's wrong with you" he said. "Me? I'm not the one talking like an absolute dickhead to people" you snapped. "Alright, I'm sorry. I was jealous okay? Of you and Adrian. I saw that he made you smile when I couldn't" he explained. You were taken aback by his confession. He was jealous of other guys being around you? "Adrian is just a colleague, nothing more. And you really tried to cheer me up, don't you think I didn't notice" you said as you both sat on the couch. "So, will you tell me what's bothering you, pretty girl?" Fermin asked. "Yeah. It's actually two things" you said and Fermin nodded for you to continue.

"Yesterday, when we drive Gavi home, he kind of made some comments that made me uncomfortable. I didn't want to tell you because he's your best friend and I don't want you to change because of me" you finally express your feelings openly. "The ones with congratulating me? Celebrating in that way?" He said. "Yeah". "He was just teasing me because I haven't gotten laid in like a year and he's always making fun of me" Fermin chuckled. "Plus, we don't have to do it now. Time will come" he shrugged. "You, Fermin López, didn't shag anyone? Holy shit" you said and he laughed at your reaction. "I'm a good boy, Y/N" he said, battling his beautiful eyelashes at you. "But if they make you feel uncomfortable, just tell me. They can be a bit overwhelming, but that's just guys jokes" he said. "And the second thing?"

"It's related to Adrian in some way. He tried to cheer me up because we both heard those popular girls talking about me, how I don't suit you because I don't have a perfect body and I dress like a nerd. And then I thought that they maybe were right, because you could have anyone, yet—". "I want you and only you" Fermin interrupted. "Yeah, but don't you want like a girl with a nice body shape?" You asked. "I prefer brain over other things though" he said. "And you're beautiful. So beautiful I could kiss you right now" he whispered. "Even though I look like a zombie after 8 hours of courses?" You laughed. "Yeah. Even so. You're my zombie" he said, softly kissing your lips. You immediately responded to the kiss, his lips making you feel some kind of way that you never wanted to stop. "Y/N..." he groaned when you climbed into his lap, hands resting on his chest. "What?" You asked. "Nothing, just... I want to ask you out on a date" he said, blushing.

"A date?"

"Yeah"

"Never been on a date before" you admitted, embarrassed. "So it will be your first first-date? Awesome" Fermin said. "It's not. I don't even know how to act" you pouted. "Like yourself, because that's what I like" he said, kissing your pouty lips. "And where do we go?" You asked. "You'll see. Just dress casually" he said. "Dress casually" you snorted. "Like a hoodie or what?". "Yeah, like that. Comfy clothes" he shrugged. "So... is that a yes?" He asked. "Yes yes. When?". "When you're free" he shrugged. "And when you are free" you chuckled. "I can miss a class, it's no big deal" you shrugged and he gasped. "You missing a class? Bad, bad girl" he tutted, smirking. "Yeah whatever. Tell me when" you whined.

"Tomorrow at 5" he said.

"A.m.?"

"No, love. P.m."

"Okay, cuz I can miss classes, but my sleep is precious" you said, making him laugh. "Then tomorrow at 5 pm" he said, kissing your lips one more time before he left.

Hope you like it 🤍

[pablitogavii]

Could you do one where gavi talks about y/n on the new season of barca a new era?

Su inspiración

You were cuddled up to Pablo watching the first episode of the new season of the Barça Documentary you were so excited about.

"Es tan cursi amor!" he whined but you sushed him wanting to hear every word especially the scenes you saw his happy face.

You knew Pablo wasn't big on "fame" but you were so proud of him and wanted to rewatch all his scenes over and over again. You didn't expect him mentioning you, so when he did in one of the scenes you felt your cheeks blushing bright red.

In the movie:

"Bueno, Gavi. Who would you say inspires you the most to improve every day?" interviewer asked Pablo who was smiling in the camera.

"Bueno, obviously all the people I work with daily are important but one person that inspires me to remain focused and patient with my progress is my girlfriend. I would come home exhausted after a bad game or training session and she would always remind me to remain focused on improving" he explained with a blushed cheek.

"It's so important to have that support system at home, isn't it?" was another question which made Pablo smile while nodding his head.

"She's really always there when I need her that sometimes I fell like a bother. But if she heard me say that now, she would hit my head and tell me to shut up" Pablo said laughing with the interviewer while at the same time you were giggling in his arms.

"There were a few moments of you dedicating your goals to her? Is that your way of saying thank you?" came another question

"All my goals are dedicated to her and she knows that. I say thank you by treating her right and showing her love but goals are a bonus as well" he giggled at the last part thinking about your at those stands in his jersey. It always made his heart melt.

"I'm sure she appreciates it. Thank you Gavi!" the lady said and they moved on to interviewing another player. The same moment you paused the show turning around in Pablo's arms.

"Have I told you how special you are amor?" you ask and he smiled nodding his head and leaning closer until you finally kissed his lips lovingly.

"So are you princesa. I couldn't do it all without you in my corner" he said and you smiled nodding your head while leaving a few kisses all over his handsome face.

"I'll always be in your corner amorcito" you say after a few moments of showering him in kisses and he smiles brightly kissing your forehead.

"I might have mentioned you a few times this season.." he says and your eyes open before you quickly clicked resume impatient to see all of those scenes now!!

Another scene was Pablo in the training session playing around with his teammates before scoring an amazing goal.

"Who's this for chaval!?" Araujo "fake interviewed" him and Pablo winked into the camera touching his heart.

"Para mi amor!!!" he said before the boys chuckled joining beck the training session and you blushed bright red hearing Pablo's teasing chuckle.

Another one came when boys were in the dressing room after the game and they hid Pablo's phone making him run after each other in frustration.

"So he always face times his girl after a win and now he's frustrated that he can't.." Ferran said to camera before Pablo ran after him angrily.

"Give me back my phone cabrón!" was heart at the end of the scene and you both laughed.

And the last one was when Pablo showed his lock screen to the camera after they won la liga trophy sending a big kiss. The photo on his phone is below :)

"You really did mention me a lot amorcito.." you say after finishing the entire season in one sitting and he giggled nodding his head and kissing your lips.

"Porque te amo princesita.." he said and you blushed kissing him again deeper while slowly straddling his lap and his hands held your hips strongly.

"Tabien te amo" you say and he smirks nodding his head stnading up with you in his arms carrying you towards the bedroom ;))

[pedripics]

What is this thing with the olympics? I don't get it. Can you explain?

this is a bit of a longer story, so i am gonna explain it all under the cut

After playing 52 games for Barça (3537 minutes) and 8 games for Spain (381 minutes) in his very first season, Pedri got called up for the Euros where he played every single minute of every single game (630 minutes) including three extra times. De la Fuente decided that it was necessary to call him up for the Olympics as well, with no rest in between (he even played a friendly in between the two tournaments). That meant that he played another 7 games (582 minutes) with two extra times. By the end, you could see how mentally and physically exhausted he was. Instead of letting him rest, Koeman decided to play him in the first two La Liga games (another 152 minutes). In one year he had therefore played 75 games (5318 minutes). He then finally got a two-week break. Which was still not enough. Pau Torres, who had an equally demanding season and played both the EUROs and the Olympics got a month off directly after the Olympics. He then played 90 mins in the UCL match against Bayern. The day after, the club announced that he had an injury to the quadriceps of the left thigh. But not even two weeks after that, he was back in training for the next UCL match against Benfica. That’s when he got injured properly and was subsequently out for almost 4 months.

The problem is not just the RFEF or De la Fuente. Koeman, Barça, Luis Enrique, De la Fuente, the RFEF (and Xavi later on as well for rushing him back from injuries as well as not resting him enough) are all to blame for not taking better care of him, especially when he was just 17/18 years old and didn't know any better. Afterwards, a lot of people blamed Pedri for going to the Olympics instead of addressing the real issue, which is an entire federation shaking off their responsibility and giving it to a kid who couldn't even drive a car yet. There were people who should've known better but took advantage of his talent. De la Fuente defended his decision to call up Pedri by saying 'that Pedri wanted to go to the Olympics' and 'that great players play everything'. To this day, he at least publicly hasn't changed his opinion on that topic (even though I am personally pretty sure that he feels at least partly at fault). After Pedri suffered from relapses, the media started calling it 'the Pedri case' as an example of what not to do and in recent months it was used to discuss whether players like Lamine, Fermín or Cubarsí should be called up for both after what happened to Pedri. I explained here why I hate the term 'Pedri case'. They asked Santi Denia, who is the coach for the Olympics, whether or not the 'Pedri case' influenced their decision on which players to call up or not. He said that for the Federation, there is no such thing as 'the Pedri case' and that Pedri should be happy that he got to go to the Olympics and that he won a silver medal. He also said that it didn't affect them or their decision-making. That just shows that while the people directly involved at the time may have some regrets, the institution in itself continues to see nothing wrong with it.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

Would you be able to explain why in La liga they are only allowed a certain amount of no European players. So they can have as many European players as they want but only 5 no European players and only 3 can play at a time.

Sorry if this doesn’t make sense or you have already answered it. Thanks

sure, so this rule is not exclusive to spain. rather, the idea of limiting the number of non-european players is to cultivate and nurture home grown players and to keep promoting the growth of football in a given country. that's why federations around the world limit the number of foreign players allowed per club in different leagues. and some clubs have even more strict rules. athletic club bilbao only takes basque players or players who have come up through a basque academies.

and for liga f, not all european players are allowed. the limit is for up to 5 non-eu players. so if you are european and from a non-eu country, you would be considered a foreign player.

in fact, rfef and liga f were actually going to reduce the number of non-eu players per club from 5 to 3, and it was still in flux until last month.

last month mundo deportivo reported on a coordination agreement between liga f and the rfef that in which each club will be allowed to register five foreign players during the next three seasons within the 25 licenses of each squad.

but yes, some version of this rule has existed for a long time. hayley raso talked about this rule as one of the reasons why she couldn't stay at real madrid for another season.

hope this helps!

[findingnemosworld]

𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬

( 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 )

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐲𝐲, ( 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐧 )

" Hermano, Serge! "

The Spaniard blinked as he noticed his sister waving her hand in front of him, he hadn't realized the fact that he'd been spaced out for the better part of their conversation - the pair had met for lunch, and while Sergio appreciated the time he got to spend with his sister, especially now at this part of his career, his mind had been rattled by a deep rooted issue for the past few months, an issue that involved the feelings he'd harbored for someone for the past three years, someone he couldn't see himself living without.

It all started when he made his triumphant return to Sevilla, his home town club, the place where his career started, he'd managed to win La Liga as well as Copa Del Rey; despite his contract being a one year deal, he'd been convinced by the manager Diego Alonso to renew, the renewal decision mostly prompted by his desire to be around her, the club's bubbly photographer - he still recalls their first encounter; it was that encounter that set his unrequited love ablaze.

" I'm sorry Miri " He murmurs in shame.

Mirian raised a brow, " What's your deal? you've been spacing out a lot? "

He looks down then looks back up with rosé colored cheeks which caused her eyes to widen in shock, with a soft smile across her lips as she said. " No ... you're in love "

" What! " He retorts defensively, and shakes his head. " No, No ... "

" Serge, I'm your sister ... and your cheeks are exposing you " Mirian giggles. " So come on, tell me ... who is she? "

He seemed hesitant for a brief moment before he finally relented, he lets out a soft sigh. " It's the photographer in the club "

Mirian frowned in confusion, before her eyes widened in recognition. " You mean that gorgeous girl I saw during your introduction ceremony "

He nods leisurely, recalling how he was so enchanted that he wasn't able to speak properly for the first few minutes, " Yes, and I ... I mean, we are close, but we're just friends "

Mirian raised a brow, " You didn't tell her? "

" How can I Miri? she's ... " He trails off with a soft sigh, " She's gorgeous "

Mirian grew silent before giggling, " I never thought I'd see the day where you become so flustered over a girl, I don't think I've ever seen you like this since ... Sofia back in high school, come on tell me about her "

He blushes then began to gush over her, recounting every bit he had noticed about her, " Miri, I can't even begin to explain how I feel " he chuckles in embarrassment before adding on, " Every time I see her, I feel like a love sick teenager "

" I bet you do " Mirian giggled, " And why didn't you tell her? "

" Well, there's the fact that she's nine years younger than me and the fact that she gets along with the younger players which makes me self conscious " He murmurs.

Mirian rolled her eyes, " I think you of all people should know that nine years isn't that much, she's what twenty eight, and on top of that, you are a catch hermano and any woman who doesn't see that, ... well it's their loss, I say .. you should invite her for dinner, or maybe ask her out, to try and see how things should go "

" You think she'll accept? " He wonders.

" Of course she will " Mirian said, " I trust that she will "

_

Since that conversation, he'd tried to muster up the courage to admit his emotions, only for hurdles to come in the way preventing him from doing so each and every single time - Until, on one unexpected rainy night as he was on his way to run some errands, he found him self thoroughly soaked which caused him to seek shelter under a bus seat, he was about to phone Mirian when suddenly he heard a soft familiar face.

" Sergio! "

He looked up to find her approaching him, carrying an umbrella - she joined him under the bus seat and said. " What are you doing? "

" I was -uh- ... -um- ... " He struggled before chuckling, " I was running some errands and then rain happened "

She giggled, which drew out a smile from him. " Why aren't you driving? "

" My car is getting fixed, and I was going to phone my sister to come pick me up " He chuckled, his face red from embarrassment.

" I can take you home " She offered with a soft tone, before adding quietly. " Or ... if you'd like, I make a very nice hot chocolate "

He smiles to himself, as the distance between them lessened - their arms touching every now and then; just as he turned to respond, their lips collided in a soft peck causing both of them to widen their eyes then look away, both blushing from the sheer embarrassment of what happened, she opened then closed her mouth, " I'm ... I'm sorry, I ... "

" No, I ... I'm sorry " He said with an embarrassed tone before his face shifted. " You know what, I'm not sorry "

Her brows knit in confusion, " What do you mean? "

He didn't respond verbally, instead he pulled her in for a searing passionate kiss that lasted for about a minute before he pulled back and licked his lips, " I've been wanting to do this for the past three years "

" What? " She whispered in shock.

" Muñeca " He smiles softly, " I've been in love with you since the day I saw you, and I tried to hold myself back, I really did but I can't do it anymore "

" Oh ... I had no idea " She giggled, " in fact I .. I've been harboring my own feelings but I thought someone like you wouldn't feel the same way "

He chuckles, " I guess we both held back, but not anymore "

She kissed him, " not anymore "

[peligrosapop]

gavi was fouled a lot during this match referee didn’t even care to give a foul whattt

You are right, I think I counted 3-4 times he was fouled and the referee let Athletic Bilbao keep playing. Pissed me off. Happens a lot with him. Officials are quick to call him on a foul but don’t call fouls on him as much. Plus Gil Manzano, the referee last Sunday, is a Madridista, and a mediocre referee.

[httpsdana]

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬~𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐭 𝟑

summary: Barça players and talented footballers. Souls meet and sparks fly. But there's always a twist when it comes to love isn't there?

pairing: Ferran Torres x Gonzalez!Reader

warnings: cursing, slight age gap, angst

previous part -> next part

Ferran's POV

Ferran still couldn't believe, that the y/n he was secretly stalking on social media, was Pedri's sister. It felt even weirder knowing he's a secret admirer.

He was still at Pedri's apartment, waiting for him to come from the bathroom. Ferran opened Instagram to pass some time. He was scrolling in his feed, when he decided to open his notifications. He usually opens them every once in a while.

He was met by the most recent notification.

@y/n17 started following you

Ferran smiled widely, and opened her account to make sure it was her. Sure enough it was.

"why are you smiling at your phone like that?" Pedri said, sitting down next to him, trying to get a peak on his phone

Ferran turned his phone off and dropped it next to him, unable to hide the smile on his face. he shook his head, biting his lip to avoid smiling too wide.

"oh so it's a girl" Pedri smirked.

Ferran didn't reply, only avoided eye contact with his best friend.

"it is!" Pedri yelled, making Ferran groan and push him away from him

"just shut up" he mumbled

"who is the lucky girl?" Pedri asked

"it's no one. can we play now or I'll leave" Ferran said, making Pedri chuckle

"I'm gonna get it out of you soon" Pedri said, causing Ferran to roll his eyes

Imagine Pedri knew the girl Ferran is secretly obsessed with is his twin sister.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

y/n's POV

"hey y/n, we need you for a YouTube video in a few minutes" one of the admins told y/n, as soon as she stepped on the training pitch

"uh...yeah sure" she mumbled, surprised they even asked her.

She's been playing for the first team for a few months now and this was the first time they had asked to film a YouTube video.

After getting her ready, y/n sat on the chair that was put out for her. Weird thing was that there was another chair next to her. She thought maybe one of the content creators will be asking her some stuff. How wrong she was

"we're just waiting for Ferran to arrive, he must be here in a few minutes" the lady behind the camera said

y/n's breath got caught up in her throat, and she wasn't able to process what she heard.

She was going to be filming a video... with Ferran...

"sorry I'm late, Xavi wouldn't let me leave immediately" he smiled in apology at the girls, before he turned to y/n

She was still too stunned to speak, so when Ferran asked her how she was she took a while to reply

"oh... uh I'm fine thanks" she mumbled, a small smile on her face

Ferran was about to say something when the lady behind the camera started talking

"you're gonna be filming the balloon challenge. just asking you some questions while the balloon is being blown. whoever has the ballon and it pops with them, the other gets a point" she explained, as both of the players nodded

"must be fun no?" Ferran turned to y/n, who only shrugged and mumbled a maybe

The ballon started with y/n

"first question, how many la liga titles has the men's team won?"

"uhh... 25?" y/n answered, not too sure

"a bit more"

"27?" she asked

"yes! pass it to Ferran" the lady replied

y/n basically threw the balloon at Ferran, who only complained how y/n's question was too easy

"how many kilometers from Barcelona to Valencia?"

y/n chuckled at the question. Ferran glanced at her with a smile, before returning to the question

"um...500" he said

"less"

"400?"

"a bit less"

the balloon was now almost about to burst

"370?"

"less"

the ballon was getting too big now

"350" he said, moving the balloon away from his face

y/n was now close to laughing out loud at him. He looked so cute trying to avoid the balloon

he's not cute y/n. he is just Ferran

"a little tiny less"

"348?" he asked

"yes!"

Ferran gave y/n the balloon quickly, their fingers brushing against each other, that spark they felt when they shook hand coming back again

Before the lady was even able to ask the question the balloon popped

"damn that's loud" y/n murmured, while Ferran was laughing at her

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

"and that's a wrap. make sure to like the video and follow us on social media" Ferran said the outro, before the filming was over

"now that was really fun" Ferran said, looking at y/n while he desperately tried to make a conversation with her

"if you didn't cheat it would've been even better" she smiled a bit, while he gasped dramatically

They were now walking towards the training pitch

"I did not cheat!" he said, making y/n shake her head

"you totally did! you were wasting time on purpose so the balloon would burst when it's with me even when you knew the answer!" she complained, while Ferran was only smiling down at her, glad she was slowly getting out of her shell

when he didn't reply, y/n looked up at him, only for him to be looking down at her in a weird way. It wasn't weird, she just thought it was.

They didn't say any word, looking at each other for a few seconds until one of the coaches called y/n

"time for training!" the coach said.

y/n cleared her throat, and broke the eye contact. Ferran looked away and nodded his head

"see you" he waved at her. She only nodded and started speed walking to the gym

Ferran bit his lip, his smile showing off easily that he didn't even try to make an effort to hide.

did she have to be his best friend's sister?

[liverpool-enjoyer]

what made you start supporting liverpool?

ok ik this is like the weakest answer ever but,,, i dunno.

like i literally DONT know. i have no fucking clue what drew me to this team. i was a la liga / serie a guy n i decided that i should start watching the prem cause everyone was talking abt it. n i started thinking abt which team i should support, n every other team jus,,, wouldntve felt right. city wouldntve felt right, as theyre no better than y*nkee fans. arsenal seems like a lovely group of dudes w great fans,,, but it jus wouldntve felt right. chelsea wouldntve felt right. united wouldntve felt right. liverpool,,, liverpool just felt right. like from minute one, i knew theyd be my team. i cant explain it. i dunno why i chose them but i know it was the right choice <3

inbox thing :D

[new-berry]

The Athletic has a great article about Jobe.

It then asked: “Is he playing because of his surname?”

They may feel their younger son somehow lives simultaneously in the shade and under a spotlight.

“I don’t think anyone will truly understand what it is like to be Jobe. If he goes anywhere in the world, he’s Jude’s brother, he’s not Jobe.

Him having his own identity is something he desperately craves.

“On the final whistle, Jobe Bellingham collapsed to the turf, lay flat on his back and breathed heavily. Spent, frustrated and beaten, Sunderland’s No 7 had a most disappointing Saturday.

On the final whistle, Jude Bellingham was mobbed by his Real Madrid team-mates, his winning smile reflecting his winning role in a dramatic Clasico. Having scored the 91st-minute goal to secure victory, Real’s No 5 had a most entertaining Sunday.

Yeah the Athletic. Write my copy for me.

Comparing Sunderland’s 1-0 home defeat against relegation-threatened Millwall with Real Madrid’s 3-2 victory over Barcelona could seem like a leap, but two games over 24 hours were bridged by the Bellingham brothers.

Jude, the elder, is having a ravishing first season in Madrid. Jobe, the younger, is doing pretty well at Sunderland, too.

For reasons of celebrity — and space — Jude is referred to in newspaper headlines by his forename (‘Jude pone el broche a La Liga’ was Marca’s on Monday morning), but the surname Bellingham is on his back. Jobe is often referred to as Bellingham at Sunderland but has the name Jobe on his jersey and when the tannoy announces the team at the Stadium of Light, he is ‘Jobe’.

As he picked himself up off the grass following a spectacularly drab game that even interim head coach Mike Dodds called “boring”, Jobe may have noted the contrast with the previous match he had been at — Real’s shootout epic at Manchester City in the Champions League in which his brother scored a decisive penalty.

Still, he got up and walked around applauding those who remained in a near-deserted ground. Some clapped back, but there is anger building among Sunderland fans at what they see as a season wasted after the attacking promise of the previous campaign. They have scored twice in five games and started with a back five at home.

Jobe was stationed in front of the middle three, hoping to break forward, for 45 minutes. In the second half, he was up front, leading the line. Such was Sunderland’s lack of creativity, he barely got a touch, never mind a chance to score.

But a 45th appearance of the season had been completed, an impressive tally when you consider a measurement even more significant than the idiosyncrasy of his surname — Bellingham was 17 when the season began.

He made his debut in January 2022 for Birmingham when he was 16 years and 107 days. He was the club’s second-youngest-ever player — only Jude had been younger. By the end of last season, Jobe had racked up 26 appearances for them; it gives the impression of experience, and it is experience, but only two were for 90 minutes — Saturday’s made it 21 appearances this season.

It is why Dodds described Bellingham last week as “a second-year scholar”, who will not be a first-year professional until next season.

“I have to bring it back to that,” Dodds explained. “There’s so much scrutiny around Jobe if he doesn’t play well. It’s unfair because he’s just so young and I don’t think people appreciate how good he is for his age.

“Because of his second name and the comparison, sometimes the over-analysing of him is unfair. Those are the cards he’s been dealt and he’s got to get on with it. I’ve had that conversation with him.

“Jobe’s scored seven goals, which for a second-year scholar, is unbelievable. He should be playing youth team football.”

Although Dodds is familiar to Jobe and to the Bellinghams — Dodds coached Jobe aged eight in Birmingham City’s academy — he reminded us that not only is Jobe in his first season away from his Midlands roots, Dodds is the third dressing-room managerial voice he has heard.

Tony Mowbray and Michael Beale were the others and as Dodds said, all three have selected Bellingham, who has been played in various positions.

Put these circumstances together and the boy who turned 18 in late September has been impactful and exciting — but also inconsistent, understandably so at his age.

At Southampton last month, for example, Bellingham received national attention for a beautiful swerving shot that swept into the top corner from 20 yards. He was praised for that locally as well, it’s just fans who follow every game also saw his error for Southampton’s opener.

Bellingham took to social media to apologise, which was unnecessary but a sign of the world teenagers inhabit.

At Sunderland, Jobe is part of a policy that saw the starting XI at Southampton become the youngest in the club’s 145-year history — 21 years and three days.

The pronounced emphasis on youth under the owners has been beneficial for Bellingham — and partly explains his £2million transfer from Birmingham at the end of last season — but there have been drawbacks on the pitch when experience has been so obviously missed. And as with the No 5 at Real Madrid stepping unforeseen into the No 9 role in the absence of Karim Benzema, Jobe has been ushered up front at a club who have been unwilling to spend seriously on a centre-forward to replace Ross Stewart.

Jobe’s versatility has been notable and, in the long run, educational. Asked recently about his positional preference, he said: “At the minute I’m just learning because I have no idea what position I am.

“I suppose it’s quite exciting in a way because I’ll find out as the years go on. It’s up to the coaches to figure out where my attributes fit the team best and I’m not arsed where I play really. As long as I am in red and white, that’s fine.”

Sunderland fans will like the last bit of that answer in particular and hearing Dodds say “he’s fallen in love with the fans, with the area — he’s so happy with the decision he made last summer” will appeal.

“It’s a perfect club at the perfect time for him. This part of the world will be forever in his heart. He’s completely in love and the Sunderland fans have been unbelievable with him.”

But the Jobe comparison in their collective consciousness is not with his brother, rather with his colleague Dan Neil. They saw Neil come through their academy, hit the ground running, then tire, and many were pleading for a rest before Neil got one.

On Saturday, the latest edition of the long-running fanzine A Love Supreme, on sale outside the ground, had a feature called ‘Hey Young Sunderland’. It reads: “Speaking of players who have needed a break, Jobe Bellingham was in the engine room alongside Dan. The 18-year-old has been almost ever-present in our team this season and everyone but the coaching staff is aware that he’s been absolutely run into the ground.”

It then asked: “Is he playing because of his surname?”

Sunderland will refute that and point out that Jobe has been withdrawn from England’s age-group call-up to get a rest. The Bellinghams may feel bemused — mother Denise lives with Jude in Madrid and father Mark with Jobe in Sunderland. They may feel their younger son somehow lives simultaneously in the shade and under a spotlight. Then again, even at 20, Jude has experienced some negative coverage in Madrid.

As with all ‘name’ players, praise and criticism tend to be excessive and Dodds said: “Jobe’s life is difficult anyway.

“I don’t think anyone will truly understand what it is like to be Jobe. If he goes anywhere in the world, he’s Jude’s brother, he’s not Jobe.

“Him having his own identity is something he desperately craves. As he gets older and gets more accolades and he does wonderful things in football, he’ll be appreciated for who he is.

“He obviously changed the name on the back of his shirt, so he’s desperately fighting to be recognised for him. It’s always going to be a battle for him, that’s the reality.”

Dodds said the Sunderland squad have helped Jobe settle “really quickly” and they “don’t discuss the brother stuff with him at all”.

And at Sunderland, they are concerned with Sunderland. Jude turning up in a club scarf at Hull City to support his younger sibling is cheered on, but on Wearside, if nowhere else on planet football, it is Jude who is the ‘other’ Bellingham.

And Jobe, everyone needs to remember, was 17 when the season began, a second-year scholar.

[leilakisakabiri]

Easy (Gavi)

Summary: You and Gavi have an argument, but he’s not willing to let you go. 

Warning(s): none 

A/N: Please send in any requests if you have any. Short blurb for today while I try to figure out what to write about. 

Word Count: [854]

Lyric series: four

You tell me that I overthink till I ruin a good thing. Anything else? You tell me that you'd rather fight than spend a single peaceful night, with somebody else.

It was a Tuesday night and you found yourself staring at Gavi from across the island table, stuck in another fight. 

It seemed like for the last two weeks all the two of you did was fight. 

There were a lot of things weighing on your relationship, one of them being the fact that you were moving back to the United States, your home country, in just a week, completing your year abroad. 

The idea of doing long distance, as well as the time difference, weighed heavy on both your minds. Not only were you going to be busy with school when you went back home, but Gavi would also be playing the final games in La Liga which meant a lot of traveling around Europe. 

Today was the first time the two of you had seen each other in a week, and he was leaving again in two days, but you had been busy all day saying goodbye to all your study abroad friends, so you couldn’t come over to his house till late at night. 

That led you to now, as the two of you argued back and forth in his kitchen, hands flailing and voices raised. 

“What the hell Y/n, this is the first time we can see each other all week and you spend the entire day with your friends?” 

You sighed, “Gavi I already told you, today was the only day they could do it, and I really wanted to see them.” 

“What about me?” Gavi asked. 

You rolled your eyes, “Well, I’m here now aren’t I?” 

Gavi took in your expression, annoyance plastered across his face, “Do you even want to be here?” 

You felt yourself getting agitated as he looked at you, waiting for your response. You didn’t know why you couldn’t explain to him that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, it seemed like over the last few weeks there had been a divide between you and him, and you couldn’t do anything but watch you both slip away from each other. 

Your silence was enough of an answer for Gavi. 

“Are you serious Y/n? You’re going to be gone in a week, and you don’t even want to spend time together?”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to speak, “Of course I do. But we’ll see each other over winter break.” 

“Winter break?!? It’s August, that’s in 5 months. We’re not going to see each other for 5 months, and that’s okay for you?” He questioned, his face falling. 

You instantly felt bad seeing his hurt expression, you hadn’t meant it in a bad way, just in a way of reminding both you and him that this was not the end, but the more you thought about it, the more it really felt like it was. 

The feeling of losing someone who meant so much to you in such a short period of time was overwhelming you, and you did the only thing you could think of to ease the pain. 

“What are we even doing? Is this even worth it?” You spoke, looking at Gavi with glassy eyes. 

His expression mirrored your own, and you could practically see all the anger leave at your words, his body deflating, “Look, I know long distance will be hard, but it’s worth it to me. You’re worth it to me.” 

You felt yourself exhale at his words, “How can you be sure this will even work out? All we do is fight.”

He came over to you slowly, gently grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his, “Because I know what it’s like to love you and be loved by you, and I would rather fight than lose that and be happy with someone else.” 

You felt your body fill with warmth at his words, and you knew the second he spoke that you could never break up with him because you felt the same exact way he did. 

You pulled him into a hug, cursing yourself for always trying to run away when things got difficult. 

You spoke into his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your ear, “I’m sorry. You’re right, you’re worth it, I’m just scared.” 

He grabbed your chin, looking down at you with a soft smile, “I know, I am too. But I think we can do it. Besides, we’ll have winter break right?” He spoke, teasing you. 

You swatted his chest playfully before snuggling into his embrace, “Haha. So funny.” 

You could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke, “No but seriously, let’s just make the most of the time we have left.” 

You nodded against him, “Deal.” 

“Also sorry for getting mad about today, I just wanted to see you.” 

You slightly pulled away from him, grinning, “Awh Pablito, you missed me that much? Just wait till I record this and share it, no one will believe you’ve gone soft.” 

He mocked your grin before his lips fell into a thin line at your antics, “Don’t you even dare Y/n or we’ll have to make it spring break.” 

Your eyebrows rose in surprise, “Touche.”

[cant-get-no-worse]

I don't understand why Barcelona fans still are asking for Messi. It's a bit ridiculous, isn't it. He left the club, like any other player, it's what happens in transfers windows. He may be a legend but he is a player and therefore subject to be bought and to play for another club, fans should accept that rather than ask him while he's playing for another club.

First, we are celebrating our title with our team - the current one, the 22 people and the staff that brought us this Liga. That's the main focus of today and the whole week.

But.

Make no mistake, this Liga is the result of a whole year of fighting from those 22 players and the staff, and they've been rightfully cheered on and showered by love from the fans. Nobody's claiming Messi won that Liga, we owe it to them. But it does not stand alone. For there to be light at the end of the tunnel, there needs to be a tunnel, and there need to be people who went through it. The 2022/2023 season is the final, bright peak of the mountain of hardships that were 2018/2019, 2019/2020, 2020/2021. It stands on top of individuals that have carried this team and took every single hit when everything - board, players - was failing. And that individual, whatever you think about it, however you want to put it, is Messi. From 2018 to 2021, the guy was alone. He broke his back trying to carry that team. He took the image hit and the pathetic trashings - the 4-0, the 8-2, despite not being his failures, have all been put to his name. The fight this team put on to win la Liga, we owe it to our current squad. But to remember where we come from, to remember the team that went through the tunnel, who was there while everything was fucking off, while celebrating our current achievements with this team, isn't disrespect towards anyone. It is merely respect towards everyone. That's precisely what this club is all about. Més que un club.

Now to answer the first ask, it's true that there have been calls for Messi throughout these past weeks — actually, since he left. I'm not going to talk about the practical reasons why his come back could serve the team, why it would not be only a political and financial move to have him back but an asset in our play too, that's another story. Rn I'm trying to explain why people are "calling for a player from another club" as you rightly put it. The reason is simple: it wasn't a simple move in a transfer window. The player didn't want to leave. It left a very bittersweet taste in everyone's mouth, a feeling of something unfinished, a hurried and unworthy ending not representative of the player's status, of what he gave the club, of his love for it nor the love the culés had for him. Being forced out of the club + the COVID situation preventing him from bidding a proper goodbye after twenty years to the public was a harsher blow than you could imagine.

I feel like a lot of people exterior to the club forget who he is for culés - and who is is, personally, for Argentinians, a whole other relationship - because of his international status. For the world, he is Messi. His very name is a brand (on which we capitalized, btw, we're no exception and the club remains a politic and financial institution), he is the superstar in the first sense of the term.

For culers, he is Messi as well, but not only. Just like Iniesta is Spain's idol while also being Barça's very own. Messi, like Andrés, Xavi, Carles, Geri, Bojan, Sergio — is from La Masia. Brought up in the spirit of the club. We saw him grow up. We saw him make his way through the C, the B, we saw him debut in the A, being taught by Dinho, Eto'o, Deco, Sylvinho. We saw him start to affirm himself in a failing team of 2006/2007, we saw him raising his Ballon d'Or at the Nou. We saw him want to leave, we saw him want to stay, we saw him play with club legends while forging his own, we saw him come back to us after every summer and international tournament with yet another failure and being torn apart by the press, we saw him run, sweat, kick, pull up comebacks, play his magic, carry a team, kiss the crest, taunt a crowd, all for Barcelona.

If you haven't experienced it, I cannot explain to you the joy and the utter pride it is to see him wear the Blaugrana colors and to have done so for the past fifteen years. I cannot explain to you the rush of emotions it is to see him kiss the crest of the club you love and to think he's ours. Before being the world's, because he is the world's, his name, influence and image go past clubs and countries, but before this, he was Argentina's, and he was ours. No player is ever above the institution (someone should tell PSG) and Leo Messi is not above FC Barcelona. But, like Xavi, Andrés, Carles, Cruyff, Guardiola, and countless others, he is at the heart of it.

So, that's why. Had he left on his own terms, like he wanted to in 2014, 2015 or 2020, fans would have an easier time accepting it because they'd know he was where he wanted to be. But it's been made very public how he wanted to stay, how finances forced him to leave and how, more recently, complicated and disrespectful his relationship with PSG had gotten. That's why some (not everyone, but I'd say a comfortable majority) people are asking for him. Now that he finished his love story with his country in the dreamiest way possible, they're calling for him to come home, and to properly finish his story with the club of his life.

Just because he is Messi, do not blame us for loving nor wanting to say a proper goodbye to Leo.

[cieloclercs]

sliding doors , chapter one

pairing: joão félix x fem!oc                                                  part: 1/?                                                                                  warnings: none, just fluff :)                                                word count: 8.8k

SLIDING DOORS, "Seemingly inconsequential moments that nonetheless alter the trajectory of future events."

01. in which chance brings them together for the second time

prologue

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𝗝𝗢𝗔̃𝗢 𝗙𝗘́𝗟𝗜𝗫 𝗪𝗔𝗦𝗡'𝗧 just some amateur footballer for a second-rate local London football club — he played for one of the biggest teams in the Premier League. Esperanza Cabrera had discovered this on the way back to her apartment from a late class. There was a commotion on the street and outside pubs on that particular night, a tell-tale sign she'd come to realise of a football match being broadcast on the big screens inside. Normally, Esperanza wouldn't have paid any attention. The fans were too rowdy for her liking, so she preferred to give them a wide berth on match days. But on this night, something caught her attention; the shouts of "Red card!" and "Send him off!" echoing from inside.

She obviously knew what it meant to get a red card — she wasn't that clueless about football. Esperanza hadn't heard the fans this animated in quite a while, though. She figured it must have been a derby match. Intrigued by their shouting, she crossed the street towards the pub where most of the noise was coming from, and peered through the window just in time to see the referee raise a red card into the air. A mixture of cheers and groans rippled across the room. Esperanza could hear them even from outside. A man stood close by lit a cigarette and began muttering bitterly under his breath.

"Sent off on his fucking debut." he spat, "What a joke."

She turned back to the big screen, now more intrigued than ever. The programme was showing a replay of the red card incident. A player in blue dived in late towards another player in white, missing the ball and clipping his leg instead. Esperanza winced a little at the contact. It looked as though the blue player (she thought it may have been a Chelsea shirt he was wearing, but she wasn't entirely sure) had tried to pull his leg away at the last minute, though by the time he made contact it was too late. The camera view switched again to show the player in blue as he ran off the pitch. Finally catching sight of his face, Esperanza's breath caught in her throat.

It was João. Her neighbour João.

That had been two days ago. She wouldn't say that she had been avoiding him as such since then, but she certainly didn't hope to see him around every corner as she had before. It must have just been a stroke of luck that their schedules seemed to conflict so much, for Esperanza hadn't so much as passed him in the corridor again since the day they first met.

She felt a little stupid for not knowing who he was. After the realisation outside of the pub, she'd gone home and done a bit of a deep dive into João's Wikipedia and social media profiles – it wasn't as if he was anonymous. He'd won La Liga. He'd won the Golden Boy award (Esperanza said that as if she had any idea such a thing existed until a few days ago). João Félix was a star signing for Chelsea. It became clear within the first few minutes of her deep dive that he was very highly regarded in the world of football. The fans were excited to have him in the Premier League.

Well, until that red card.

Now Esperanza wondered how she hadn't connected the dots. He would have been playing in La Liga at the same time as Messi, so she was sure to have seen him play before – at least that explained why he seemed so familiar. Now, it felt strange to think that she had been making casual conversation with one of the biggest young footballers in the world. Oh God, she'd almost knocked him over! Esperanza had been able to look back on their first meeting with a fond smile and flushed cheeks before she found out who he was, but now she couldn't think about it with anything other than embarrassment. He probably thought she was an idiot. Great job.

Esperanza didn't usually have a class on a Monday morning (most of her lectures tended to be in the afternoons or sometimes in the early evening), but Jordan, her international law lecturer, who had incidentally given her a public dressing-down for turning up to class late on the day she met João, decided to organise an extra period of study ahead of some upcoming essay deadlines. Esperanza hadn't been at all happy about it at first. She valued her morning lie-ins very much. But as she would later come to realise, if it weren't for that extra, early class, she never would have run into her stupidly attractive, apparently famous neighbour for the second time. At least not in the right way.

Esperanza walked at a leisurely pace down the hall this time. She was scrolling through her messages with Doutzen, double-checking that she'd got the times for their scheduled class right. It wasn't supposed to be for another couple of hours, but the day was surprisingly clear (something which had become few and far between in London as of late), so Esperanza figured she should make the most of it.

The distinct sound of the elevator doors just around the corner beginning to slide shut shattered her peace. Her head snapped up. If there was one thing she really didn't want to do, it was wait an age for it to transport whoever was in it now to wherever they need to go, and then come back again, no doubt stopping to collect more people along the way. Esperanza broke into a run, skidding around the corner towards where the doors were almost shut.

"Wait!" she shouted, "Hold the door, please!"

To her great relief, whoever was inside the elevator did as instructed. An Adidas trainer stuck out from between the two half-shut metal doors, forcing them open so she could slip inside with a tired, grateful smile and a sigh that released all of her sudden, pent up panic. Then, Esperanza looked up. The face that greeted her was all too familiar.

Of course it had to be him.

"You." she said stupidly. João's mouth hung open in confusion, his expression frozen somewhere between delight and alarm. He held his phone in one hand, but whatever he had been doing on it was long forgotten. His sole attention resided upon Esperanza.

"Me." he replied.

They were both instantly aware of the change of dynamic between them. Though they only had one other instance to compare it to, this meeting felt strange. They were both caught off-guard. Esperanza had been the last person he expected to run through those doors, and João had been the last person she expected to hold them open for her. It was odd the way fate worked sometimes, they thought.

As the elevator began its descent down to the bottom floor, Esperanza felt the sudden, overwhelming sensation of déjà vu. She couldn't find the words to tell him that she knew exactly who he was (probably a little more than she should have after her researching spree), just like she had been unable to find the words the first time around to begin a conversation. She had to be the one to broach it though, not João. It just made more sense. He couldn't have known she was any more the wiser to who he actually was than when they had first met.

"So," Esperanza cleared her throat, looking up to meet her neighbour's gaze challengingly, "Just some local team, huh?"

He froze. The reminder of his own words felt like a bucket of ice cold water poured straight over his head. Somehow, João knew instantly what she meant. It was something in the arch of her eyebrow, the knowing glint in her eye, as if she could have seen through any and every lie he told to try and preserve himself as just João, her new neighbour, in Esperanza's memory.

"You..." he began, but trailed off when he found himself unable to read the expression on the young woman's face as she watched him, "Did you see the game then?"

"I saw enough." Esperanza shrugged, moving back to lean against the railing inside the elevator. Her hard, accusing stare dropped. João let out a subconscious sigh of relief, "I think I probably caught it at a bad time, though." she went on with a faint grimace. He knew what that meant as well. She'd seen the red card.

Great. The first chance he had to show the pretty girl next door what he could do on the football pitch, and he went and bottled it.

"I suppose saying I'm sorry doesn't really do much to help you feel better, does it?" Esperanza spoke again. She chewed nervously on the inside of her mouth, waiting for João's reply to see if she had overstepped a boundary. His eyes were on the ground. For a moment they stayed there, but then he looked up and shot her a smile; the kind of smile that made her stomach flutter.

"It helps more than you think, actually." João admitted quietly. Then they were back to one of those long silences, neither of them quite sure what to say. Esperanza lost herself in his eyes again, before letting her gaze wander his figure. It looked like he was dressed for training: dark navy blue skins clinging to his toned arms, with a tight black turtle-neck jumper, and black shorts. She shifted a little where she was stood, the four-walled confines of the elevator suddenly feeling very, very small. Esperanza couldn't tell if she was disappointed or relieved when it finally ground to a halt.

"You're not running late today, are you?" João asked, falling into step beside her and walking out of the elevator. She laughed.

"No, not today. My class doesn't start for another couple of hours. I just fancied a walk."

The young man smiled. That was good, at least he wouldn't have to watch her turn and run away from him this time, unsure of exactly when their next meeting would turn out to be. João had spent the days afterwards hoping she would be around the corner when he left his apartment, or waiting outside for the elevator to arrive – he would have taken her almost knocking him over again. But it had seemed that no matter how much he hoped, they kept missing each other.

"What about you? Are you heading to training?" Esperanza inquired in return, eyeing his workout kit again not-so-subtly. She wondered how he wasn't going to freeze in those shorts. The day might have been clearer and brighter than most, but it was still Baltic.

"I am in a bit, yeah." João nodded, "I was going to grab a coffee before though. I've still got a couple of hours before I need to leave." He looked pointedly over at Esperanza, hoping she would catch the subtle hint behind his words. All she did was smile however, before looking down at her feet with slightly pink cheeks. They were stood halfway between the elevator and the exit, neither of them making any attempt to move.

“Did you, uh –“ João began to ask, but cringed at how hoarse his voice sounded and reached back to run a nervous hand through his hair. Esperanza looked up with furrowed eyebrows. She prompted him to go on.

“Did you want to come with me? To grab a coffee, I mean?”

The young woman had to clench her jaw tightly shut to prevent it from falling open in shock.

"Uhm..." she stuttered. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates as she stared up at João, whose expression had fallen just a little at her silence. Esperanza, for once in her life, genuinely didn't know what to say. She couldn't have hoped to describe how surreal this situation felt — it was clear to her now that her new neighbour wasn't just anyone; João was famous, a young prodigy in the football world, and Esperanza had no doubt that (even though she hadn't at first) almost everyone he walked past in the street would know his name. Yet he stood before her now, looking like a dejected teenage boy at her lack of a response.

"You know what, don't worry about it." João spoke again after a moment, avoiding eye contact as he ran a hand through his hair, "If you don't want to that's fine. It was probably a stupid idea anyway."

"Nonono!" Esperanza was cutting him off before he had the chance to properly finish his sentence, "I'd like to, it's just — I wouldn't want to intrude."

Truth be told, she would have much rather spent the morning with her cute neighbour than sit in a café all by herself — which was saying a lot, because one of Esperanza's favourite pastimes happened to be sitting alone in a café with nothing but her sketchbook and Taylor Swift's Folklore on repeat for company. Something about João (besides the obvious) intrigued her. She found herself wanting to ask him all about the little things, the things about himself that most people didn't know, but probably should have — the things that were overlooked because of his name. It seemed like a stupid, romantic notion to her, but inexplicably it became what Esperanza wanted most, in that moment at least.

João had perked up now — so it wasn't a definite no, as he had feared. When Esperanza had hesitated to respond to his impulsive offer, he'd felt his stomach plummet. Somehow, it dropped even further than it had when he had received that red card. Normally he was fairly confident when it came to girls; the fact they all seemed to throw themselves at him as of late probably helped with that — but this girl looked at him differently. The spark in her eyes and the kind smile on her lips hadn't changed one bit since she found out who he really was. Esperanza didn't try and throw herself at him: she held back. Perhaps João liked that she did. He could ask her out for coffee (or at least try to) like a normal person thanks to it. But that also meant that he feared misreading the situation and her actions more than anything else. What if she really wasn't interested? What if she was just being polite because he was new? In what ways could João possibly embarrass himself further than by misinterpreting signals and scaring off the prettiest girl he'd seen in a long time? It terrified him.

"You wouldn't be intruding." he replied hesitantly, not wanting to overstep again, "It would be nice to have some company, if you're up to it."

Esperanza smiled, "Sure." she spoke, nodding her head as a sign of agreement. João tried not to look too surprised, or too happy — his gaze dropped to the floor, biting back a wide grin. This feeling was comparable to the feeling he got when he scored a goal, except he probably got more out of it; he'd be spending the next hour or so getting to know the girl who'd been stuck in his half-conscious daydreams since they met, after all.

They left the apartment complex together, and João scrambled to hold the door open for Esperanza before she could even get close enough to the handle to do it for herself. It was cute, she thought. She didn't have a great deal of experience when it came to the male sex (unless you counted her high school boyfriend and the single drunken one night stand she'd had since arriving in London), so Esperanza didn't really have anything to compare with João's attempt at chivalry. All she knew was that it brought a giddy smile to her face. She was scared to move too close to him in case he could hear her heart beating erratically, almost out of her chest. This was a completely new experience for her, way outside of her comfort zone, but Esperanza found she didn't mind. It felt right somehow.

"Where did you want to go then?" she broke the slightly tense silence that had fallen between them, coming to a stop on the pavement outside the apartment complex. João opened his mouth to reply. No sound came out. It probably would have been a good idea to familiarise himself with some local cafés before impulsively inviting his neighbour out for a kind-of-but-not-really coffee date.

"I didn't think that far ahead." He admitted sheepishly. Esperanza let out a quiet, good-natured giggle, much to his relief. At least, from what he could interpret, she wasn't changing her mind about accepting his offer.

"How about we go to one of my favourite cafés?" she suggested, "It's not far from here."

João nodded eagerly. He realised in hindsight, perhaps a little too eagerly, but by then it was too late to correct himself. Esperanza's smile widened even further.

Small talk was one of the worst things about getting to know someone, but unfortunately, a lot of the time it was necessary to fill the gap. For example, the gap of a half mile's walk to Esperanza's favourite café. Not only did it sell the best chocolate brownies in London, it was also helpfully situated only a few minutes away from the tube station. She'd spent many a morning alone in that little café before her classes, adding to her sketchbook and drinking enough coffee to hopefully keep her awake until the end of her international law lecture. Of course this time, she wasn't alone. Esperanza would normally stick her headphones over her ears and drown out the rest of the world with her two-hundred song strong Taylor Swift playlist while she walked. But now she had João for company, who made sure she stayed on the side of the pavement furthest from the road, and tried to keep the stream of conversation between them as constant as possible. At first it was a little awkward, and the nerves in the pit of Esperanza's stomach had flared up — but gradually she grew more comfortable. By the time they made it to the café, she was completely at ease.

João followed her dutifully up to the counter. She appeared to know the place and many of the workers quite well. He must have seen at least three servers wave at her when she walked through the door. Esperanza seemed to him to be the kind of person that other people were just naturally drawn to. There was something magnetic about her presence. Of course, it was only natural for people to gravitate towards the brightest, most genuine smile in the room; and that smile belonged to Esperanza.

"Hey, kid." the server behind the counter, whose name tag read Matt, said to her as she approached, "What can I get for you?"

"Hey, Matt." the young woman returned with a grin like pure sunshine, "Can I have a caramel latte please? And a..." she trailed off, looking towards João expectantly. He'd been too busy watching her to have even thought about his order, "What do you want?"

"Uhm..." João cleared his throat, looking away from Esperanza and up to the blackboard menu on the wall. He decided to just pick the first thing he saw, not wanting to hold anyone up for any longer than he already had,

"Just a black coffee, please."

The server, Matt, simply nodded. His eyes were a little wider than they had been before. It wasn't obvious, but João was familiar with it, and he knew he'd been recognised. Luckily, Matt said nothing. He got on with making their drinks in total silence.

João was brought back to the present when Esperanza pulled out her credit card and went to place it on the countertop. His eyes widened, horrified. He shot out a hand to halt her movements, pushing the card away with a gentle shooing motion.

"Nono, I'll pay." he said. Maybe it was an old fashioned notion, but João couldn't think of anything worse than allowing the woman to pay on a first date (— if this even was a date; they hadn't clarified that yet).

"João, it's fine. I can pay." Esperanza laughed lightly. She pulled her hand gently out of his grip and moved to place her card down on the counter. Matt was almost finished making their drinks. He'd be over asking them for the money soon enough.

"No." João persisted, shaking his head firmly, "Look, I've got cash." he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a twenty pound note, "I can pay."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're the guest here!" Esperanza shot back, swatting his hand and incidentally the note he held in it away. His brow furrowed in thought.

"Technically, so are you." he argued. If she was going to claim that because he wasn't a local and hadn't been living in the city for long, he got the special treatment, he could turn that around on her as well.

"I've been here for three years. I'm basically a Londoner." Esperanza reasoned. Their shared stubbornness had landed them in a stalemate. João wasn't going to back down — his mother had raised him better than to let a woman pay when he had money in his own pocket, date or not. As for Esperanza, well, she didn't actually have a problem with him paying for her; but she was argumentative by nature, so backing down now wasn't an option.

"Why don't we just split it?" the young woman suggested, "I pay for my drink and you pay for yours? It makes more sense to do it that way, anyway."

João pulled a face. It wasn't ideal, but he supposed it was a compromise. If Esperanza wouldn't let him buy her coffee for her, he could at least take some of the load as his own. Besides, from the stubborn glint that had appeared in her eye, it became clear to him that she wasn't the kind of person to be argued with.

When Matt wandered back over with their drinks, João got his card out ready to pay for his drink, while Esperanza did the same for her hers. But Matt placed both the coffee cups down in front of them and waved away both their credit cards in dismissal.

"These are free of charge." he revealed. Esperanza's jaw dropped open.

"What?!" she spluttered, "But Matt — you can't —"

The man raised a hand to cut her off, before turning to look at João, "Welcome to London, mate." he said with a smile, "It's not every day I get to make coffee for João Félix, so..." Matt pushed the cup towards him across the counter, "Free of charge, for both of you."

João smiled, "Thank you." he said sincerely. A warm feeling grew in his stomach — he'd been lacking it for a while at Atlético, and now, especially after the Fulham game, he lacked it at Chelsea. It felt like acceptance.

"Are you sure there isn't any way I can pay you? I could —" he began, but Matt was quick to cut him off.

"No, no, don't worry about it, just — score us a couple of goals, yeah?" the man said with a small smirk,

"Coming from a Chelsea fan, we definitely need some of them right now."

João laughed, "Sure. I will do." he promised. He had every intention to keep it too — even if he would only be at the club for a few months.

Esperanza felt like she'd been teleported into some kind of parallel universe; free coffee, no extra charge? She'd never so much as been given a discount, despite being one of the little-known café's most loyal customers. The perks of being famous.

"Oh, and one other thing." Matt spoke again as Esperanza and João picked up their drinks, ready to find a table to sit down at. They halted in their tracks, "Unlucky about the red card. If it's any consolation, I thought it was a pretty harsh decision."

João smiled. He wasn't too sure about that himself, but he appreciated the sentiment. It was nice to know not all Chelsea fans had a vendetta against him now after that stupid mistake.

Finding a table by a window overlooking the busy street outside, Esperanza and João took their seats across from each other. She felt a little starstruck in his presence now; her earlier, built-up confidence beginning to melt away.

"So you really are famous." she laughed nervously. He looked up, catching her eye. He could immediately sense her slight change in demeanour. She struggled to hold his gaze, her focus flickering around, but never directly on him. Whenever he tried to hold her there, she would flush pink and quickly look away. João probably should have known that his relative fame would be a bit of a barrier to overcome between them. It was understandable that she might be a little thrown off by something like Matt and his insistence on charging them nothing for their drinks. All it meant was that João would just have to help her feel at ease again. Honestly, he didn't mind that at all.

"I guess." the young man shrugged, "I'm still just a pretty normal person, though. Sometimes I forget a lot of people around here know who I am."

Esperanza nodded. That was the way she saw him too – just João; her cute neighbour João, not football prodigy João. She wasn't sure why he hadn't changed in her mind. Finding out that he was Chelsea's new star signing surely should have flipped some kind of warning switch in her brain - but for some reason, it didn't. Even if, in reality, she barely knew him, to Esperanza he was still just João.

"Hmm. I do have one question, though." the young woman spoke up. She could feel her confidence beginning to return in waves, "If you're such a big deal, you must earn a lot of money, right?"

João nodded with slightly furrowed eyebrows, wondering where this was going.

"What are you doing living in a mid-range apartment in central London then? Surely you must have had nicer options. Somewhere further outside the city, maybe?"

It did seem odd. The apartment complex they both lived in wasn't exactly a cheap option, but by a footballer's standards, Esperanza figured it must have seemed fairly low-range: ordinary. She knew how much player's like João earned – put it this way, he could have easily afforded something much nicer.

"Well, I kind of just went with the first one I saw." he explained, his lips curling up into a wry smile. Esperanza arched her eyebrows incredulously, "I mean yeah, I probably could have got somewhere bigger outside of London, but I'm only here for six months. I'd rather experience the city up close than live further away and not see any of it, you know?"

João had given the matter quite a lot of thought. He wasn’t just at Chelsea to get some more playing time. In a way, he was running; running away from a situation at Atlético in which he felt completely powerless; running away from the expectation that came with being named as one of the most promising young footballers in the world; and maybe, he was running away from the shadow of his past as well. But João didn’t want to think about his ex-girlfriend right now. It wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on that, when the only woman who had genuinely caught his interest since her was sat in front of him.

“It’s weird,” João spoke again, a sudden realisation coming to him as he thought back to the day he’d bought his temporary apartment, “I decided pretty much straight away I was going to buy the first one I saw. But I was actually supposed to view a different apartment a couple of days before I went to see the one I’m in now. I would have bought the other one if the estate agent hadn’t called in sick on the day.”

Esperanza’s eyebrows raised. How different things could have been if not for the unfortunate (or fortunate, depending on which way you looked at it) timing of the estate agent’s illness. She most likely never would have met João. She would still be getting on with her day as normal right now, but instead of spending the morning with the only man who had caught her interest in a long time, she would be alone, simply imagining the romance she feared she would never obtain in her quiet little corner, while Taylor Swift's All Too Well echoed in her ears — as if she could relate.

"It's funny the way things work out." Esperanza murmured. The hazel of her eyes mixed with the obsidian of João's. They bore a strange, unreadable look.

"Must be fate, huh?" he half-joked, his voice dropping so low that only she could have possibly heard it; like it was their little secret to keep. The whimsical, romantic notion that there was some higher power at work, watching over them to make sure their paths crossed. Esperanza wasn't one to believe in such things, but somehow, it did feel that there was something beyond them both, mapping out the courses of their lives, intersecting the two, separate trails just at the right moment. She didn't have to wonder if João was thinking the same thing. It was in his eyes, that unreadable look suddenly becoming as clear as the breaking of a new day.

"Yeah. It must be." Esperanza whispered.

They didn't broach the topic again. There was still much to learn about each other before they considered the implications of their fateful circumstances of meeting. That was a conversation for a later date.

"So, where are you from?" João asked first. He leaned forward onto his elbows, demonstrating that she had his utmost, undivided attention, "I just realised, you know I'm from Portugal, but you never told me about yourself."

The corners of Esperanza's mouth twitched upwards.

"I'm from Argentina." she replied.

"Argentina?" João's eyebrows rose, "You're from Argentina, but you're not a football fan?" He didn't think there even were any non-football fans in Argentina. Seeing the way they'd celebrated the World Cup win for days on end, it seemed to him that the entire country was absolutely crazy about the sport.

"Who says I'm not a football fan?" Esperanza countered. He wasn't wrong though — she'd never been an avid follower of football like her parents and aunts and uncles and cousins were (as well as most of her friends). She didn't expect to be able to fool João that she was either — he'd already seen through her.

"You didn't know who I was." the young man argued back with an arch of his eyebrow. Esperanza chuckled.

"Someone's got a high opinion of themselves." she spoke teasingly. João smirked, "You are right, though. I'm not really that into football."

"Well that's not something I ever thought I'd hear an Argentinian say." he replied. She shrugged almost apologetically. Despite being completely surrounded by it every which way she looked growing up, Esperanza had never really understood the apparently massive appeal of football. Perhaps it was the over-exposure that had caused her to grow sick of it. At this point, she only watched football for the national pride and for Messi.

"I do know some things." Esperanza defended, "I used to watch Barcelona a lot when Messi was there. Pretty much every match, I'd say. I'm not sure why I didn't realise who you were."

"I would have been playing at that time," João nodded, "Was I really that insignificant to you?" he looked down at her, feigning being hurt. Esperanza shook her head hastily, dispelling the suggestion with immediate effect.

"No, I'm just — forgetful." she sighed, "You played for Atlético right? Didn't you win La Liga with them?"

João's suddenly wide smile was all the answer she needed for that question, "Yeah, I did." he nodded proudly,

"You know, for someone who's not into football, you seem to know quite a lot." His eyebrows arched up into his hairline, as a faint, questioning smirk curled at his lips.

Esperanza sat back in her chair. She looked down at the table, but avoiding eye contact did little to hide the grin that crept its way onto her face.

"I may have done a little bit of research." she admitted.

"Oh yeah?" João's smirk widened.

"Mhm. It would be rude of me to not know anything about what you do, right? You are my neighbour."

If only that was the genuine reason behind her extensive research. Esperanza could lie to herself all she wanted, but the numerous pages still left open on her phone (she should probably get rid of them soon, actually) of the TikTok edits she'd accidentally stumbled across while searching João's name spoke volumes.

There was a brief pause in conversation as they each took a sip of their drinks, watching subtly (or what in their minds was subtle) when they thought the other wasn't looking. João, for the second time, was the first one to speak up again.

"Where in Argentina are you from?" he asked.

"Bariloche." Esperanza replied. Her neighbour frowned slightly, wracking his brain for any recollection of such a place being mentioned to him before. But to be honest, João didn't really know any other city in Argentina apart from Buenos Aries and Rosario.

"You probably won't have heard of it. It's quite far south, in the Patagonia region. Right near the Andes." Esperanza explained, "It's a lot colder than most of Argentina, so we don't really get many tourists in the summer. We do in the winter though. Skiing is really popular."

João hadn't heard of it, but he was fascinated just seeing the way her eyes lit up like fireflies, speaking about the city she called home. He would have listened to her talk for hours just to see that look again. When Esperanza trailed off her explanation, João made a gesture, eager and attentive, for her to continue.

"Where I lived was right by the lake — the Nahuel Huapi." she went on with a far-off smile, "It's the most beautiful place in the world. Blue waters and snow-capped mountains as far as the eye can see. My family and I used to go skiing on the mountains every winter; all of us, my parents, my aunts and uncles, my cousins... Sorry, am I talking too much?" Esperanza giggled nervously.

"What? No, no!" João exclaimed, "I like listening to you. Your home sounds beautiful, by the way."

When he smiled at her, Esperanza searched his eyes closely, as if she was trying to read them like she would read a book. They sparkled with sincerity; a genuine interest in her and in what she actually had to say — not just whether she had a pretty face or not. That was much more than Esperanza had been able to say about any other man before.

“Gracias a Dios.” She sighed, “Sorry, I have this habit of talking way too much when I meet knew people. It’s like my brain doesn’t catch up with my mouth, and I just can’t stop the words before I’ve said them. Wait, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Esperanza’s eyes widened.

“It’s fine.” João laughed, “I’m more of a listener than a talker anyway.”

“But you must have far more interesting stories to tell than I do.” She countered suddenly, leaning closer towards him in one quick movement, “You’re a famous footballer!”

Esperanza wasn’t sure how she was supposed to contribute anything that could pique his interest in a conversation with someone who must have had more adventures in his thus far short time on Earth than she ever would in her entire lifetime. She knew he’d appeared and scored at the World Cup; she knew he’d played in front of tens of thousands of people at Camp Nou (which, let’s face it, was a once in a lifetime experience for anyone, Barcelona fan or not) – those two memories in themselves were enough to make any story Esperanza had to tell fade like the sun from the sky at dusk, reduced to insignificance. Though she was aware that João was just a person, like anyone else, it intimidated her that he’d experienced so much more in relatively as many years. In comparison, she was just boring.

“No quiero hablar de mí.” I don’t want to talk about me. João murmured shyly after a few moments of silence, “Eres mucho más interesante.” You’re much more interesting.

Esperanza perked up at the sound of her mother tongue on his lips. “¿Hablas español?” she asked excitedly. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that it was very likely that João would speak Spanish – he’d lived and trained in Madrid for quite a few years, after all. There was just something about hearing him speaking the language she’d grown up with, his Portuguese accent so gentle she almost missed it completely, that had her stomach doing somersaults.

“Sí.” João grinned, “Es mejor que hablar inglés, ¿no?” It’s better than speaking English, no?

Esperanza giggled, “Muy cierto.” Very true. She agreed. It was only as they picked up their conversation where it had left off, with Esperanza rambling on, starry-eyed, about her childhood home, and João watching her with equally starry eyes, that she finally realised what he had said. You’re much more interesting. No one had ever told her she was interesting before – least of all someone like him. Esperanza tried not to look into it too much, but she couldn’t ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach that appeared every time she replayed his words in her head.

“I went to Buenos Aires for the World Cup final and to celebrate with my family after we won.” She babbled in rapid Spanish, so rapid and so heavily laced with her regional accent that João had to concentrate especially hard to understand what she was saying, “That was crazy. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m pretty sure, like, ninety-seven percent sure that Messi waved at me – from the tour bus, you know? Millie – she’s my best friend – said he waved at her, but it was definitely me.” Esperanza glowed with pride at the memory, and João found himself overcome with a smile; the kind that hurt his cheeks.

“Apart from that, I haven’t been back to Argentina since I moved. So, three years. I haven’t been back to Bariloche in three years.” She went on. Her beaming grin became tinged with sadness. It was a long time to go without seeing her home town – but as a student living off barely minimum wage (she had the ‘immigrant’ label to thank for that), Esperanza simply couldn’t fund the costs of travelling back and forth. Her parents had offered on multiple occasions to pay for her, though each time she had turned them down. They were already essentially paying for her apartment; she refused to take any more money from them than that.

“Do you miss it?” João asked. He wasn’t blind to the way her bright smile dimmed, even if she tried to cover it up in the next moment. He was too perceptive to not spot it.

“Yeah, I really do.” Esperanza admitted, “I love London, but everything and everyone I’ve ever known is in Bariloche. Most of the time, I don’t really notice it, until some days, I’ll wake up and it’ll be raining or something, and I’ll just sit there and wish that I’d never left. But that is only on the bad days. I’ve got used to being so far away from home now, I can just kind of ignore it.”

It was mostly the truth. Esperanza didn’t feel homesick nearly as much as she had in the first year or so of her university course, but it was still a lot more frequent than she made it out to be. Still, it felt good to at least admit that she did still feel homesick sometimes. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but Esperanza felt safe enough in João’s presence to be open with him about that. To some people, that may not have seemed significant, but she hadn’t even been able to admit it to her best friend. There was just something about this man that made Esperanza feel she could have told him anything – even after knowing each other for barely a few days.

“Do you miss home?” the young woman repeated João’s words back to him when he fell silent. He looked up in surprise, but in the next moment, a look of sadness washed over him; a look Esperanza could recognise in her own face.

“Yeah.” João nodded, “It’s been years since I left Viseu – that’s where I grew up – but I still wish I was back there sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, Madrid is amazing… and I’m starting to really like London as well. They just can’t really compare to my home town, though. Is that how you feel?”

Esperanza hummed. That was exactly how she felt. As a child, she’d always longed to get out of Argentina and explore the rest of the world. It was only when, at age eighteen she finally got her wish, and was whisked away to the distant United Kingdom that Esperanza realised how little she had appreciated Bariloche. There was no other place in the world quite like the place you called home. She knew that now.

“Are you planning on going back to Argentina once you’ve finished University?” João questioned again after another moment of silence.

“I think so.” Esperanza nodded, “Unless I have a real reason to stay in London, which I don’t at the moment, I want to go home. At least for a little while, until I figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”

That left her only five months until she could return to Bariloche and her family; five more months to earn her degree, before the inevitable beginning of her adult life – and only five months for something, or someone, to convince her to stay. She didn’t know it then, but João’s time in London was limited as well. He had until the end of the season in May to make up his mind: back to Atlético, or a new future in Chelsea blue? Every moment they spent together from now on would be what you’d call time sensitive. Five months could pass by in the blink of an eye, after all.

Before long, much to Esperanza’s disappointment, it was time to head to her lecture. She glanced down at her watch, grumbling under her breath, before turning back to glance at João with apologetic eyes, “Unfortunately, I need to get to my class now. As much as I wish I could stay, I’m kind of terrified my lecturer might actually kick me off the course if I’m late again – Sorry.”

João chuckled, “That’s no problem. I need to get to training soon anyway.”

They left their table by the window, leaving a generous tip for the waiting staff before walking together through the front door, which jingled as they opened it. Esperanza stopped for a moment on the pavement outside. She turned to look up at João.

“I’ve really enjoyed this.” She smiled shyly, “Thank you for inviting me.”

“You’re welcome.” João murmured. His eyes dropped to the ground for a moment as he considered his next words, “Hey, if it’s ok with you, could I walk you to the tube station?”

Esperanza blinked, “Walk me? Are you sure you have time?”

“Yeah, I’ve got another twenty minutes before I need to be in the car.” Her neighbour replied, “The station isn’t far from here is it?”

“No, it’s just round the corner.”

“Then I have the time.”

She didn’t need someone to escort her to the station. If anyone else had suggested such a thing to her, she probably would have scoffed. But for some reason, João wanting to walk her was endearing. His eyes shone with hope as he waited for her answer. Esperanza could tell, he wasn’t asking to patronise her or anything of the sort – she thought maybe, just maybe, he wanted to walk with her because he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet. Well, that was what she secretly hoped was the case, anyway. She didn’t want to go getting any ideas, when he was probably just trying to be polite.

“Sure, ok.” Esperanza nodded, “It’s your fault if you’re late, though. Not mine.”

“Understood.”

João struggled to hide the joyful bounce in his step as they set off walking towards the tube station. Once again, their conversation picked up right where it had left off in the café. It flowed so easily now, where at first it had been slightly awkward – Esperanza no longer felt self-conscious about talking too much, or oversharing; João had reassured her he enjoyed listened to her ramblings, and the young woman decided to take his word for it.

In truth, he found that the things she had to say and the way she said them intrigued him. João Félix thought that Esperanza Cabrera might well have been one of the most fascinating people he had ever met. She could captivate him with a story so mundane as the day she’d baked cookies with her mother for her best friend’s birthday; she could argue in a way he’d never heard anyone argue before, with strong opinions and an even stronger set of principles that had João hanging off her every word as she spoke them; and there was something poetic in the way she did too. Esperanza Cabrera was an artist with her words, just as much as she was an artist with a paintbrush or pencil. Even if João had never seen the drawing of the mountain range and the lake (which he now came to realise was Bariloche), he still would have been able to picture it just as clearly in his mind from her description alone.

When they arrived outside the tube station, João came to a sudden stop, “Wait, I almost forgot!” he said. Esperanza frowned as he reached into his bag and pulled out a rolled up piece of paper, tied together with a little blue ribbon. The young man handed it to her gingerly, as if he was afraid of dropping it, like it were some kind of antique china ornament.

“You dropped this. On the day we met.” João explained. He gestured for her to unravel the piece of paper. Esperanza did as she was told slowly, still confused – until the blue ribbon fell away, and she was greeted with the sight of the oil pastel drawing of her home.

“Oh, Dios mío!” the young woman exclaimed, “I’ve been looking for this everywhere! Thank you so much.” She gushed, bringing the drawing protectively close to her chest. When she had been unable to find it in her folder on the day of her and João’s first meeting, she’d feared the worst – seeing it now filled her with an almost overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude. Esperanza had actually been quite proud of that drawing, unlike most other pieces of art she had completed as of late.

“It’s beautiful.” João told her, smiling softly, “I almost couldn’t believe you’d actually drawn it.”

The young woman quirked an eyebrow, “What, do I not seem like an artist to you?” she teased. His eyes widened as she shook his head frantically.

“No, no, that’s not – I mean, I don’t know a lot about art, but that,” he pointed to the drawing still clutched in Esperanza’s arms, “Is as good as any classic I’ve seen.”

It couldn’t actually have been, of course, because she was no artistic genius – but she giggled at João’s flattery nonetheless. Rolling up the drawing and tying the ribbon back around it into a bow, she tucked it safely into her bag, once again thanking João profusely for returning it to her.

“It’s no problem, really.” He dismissed.

Esperanza knew it was time for her to go. She felt stuck again, like she had on their first meeting, caught somewhere between staying with João and running to catch the next train to her university campus. He could sense their time together was rapidly drawing to a close as well. But he couldn’t let her leave with only a fleeting goodbye and a hand-drawn masterpiece this time. João needed something concrete, a guarantee that this wouldn’t be the last time they saw each other. Normally, he wouldn’t have thought twice about asking a girl for her number – but as most things seemed to do nowadays when Esperanza was involved, the thought made his stomach twist with nerves.

“Uhm, before you go,” João began in a slightly hoarse voice. He winced and cleared his throat before continuing, “I was wondering if – if I could get your number?”

Never before had he felt so awkward asking something so simple. João wanted the earth to swallow him up whole right then and there. Esperanza fell silent, her lips parting in shock ever so slightly. He didn’t know whether to interpret that as good shock or bad shock, but, preparing himself for the worst, decided to go with the latter.

“Of course. Do you want me to put it into your phone?”

João’s head snapped up. His premature grimace morphed into an ecstatic grin (which he was quick to dampen down, so as not to seem too eager); although, his fumbling hands as he pulled his phone out of his pocket probably betrayed him in that respect. Esperanza smiled to herself, taking João’s phone and quickly inputting her number into his contacts. She paused at the contact name, however – her instinct was to be bold, and put a heart next to it. That would communicate her intentions to him clearly enough, right? But then she realised; what if he didn’t see her like that? What if he was just searching for a friend in a big, unfamiliar city, and she was the first person he could find? Esperanza didn’t think she could cope with the embarrassment if it turned out like that. So she left her contact name in his phone as simply Esperanza – with definitely no heart.

“I’ll text you.” João stated confidently as she handed it back to him. Though he could still feel the nerves churning in his stomach, he felt a newfound sense of boldness after she’d surprisingly agreed to give him her number. A smirk spread slowly across his lips.

“I’ll be waiting.” Esperanza replied.

Her train was moments away from arriving. She could tell by the new wave of commuters who suddenly surged past them by the entrance to the station, hurrying down the steps towards the Underground line. It was time for her to go. She took a tentative step forwards at the same time as João did, both of them unsure what was an appropriate way of saying goodbye given they hadn’t known each other for long, and the already slightly complicated nature of their relationship. Eventually, they met halfway in a brief hug. Esperanza’s arms looped fleetingly around João’s shoulders, while his hands found her waist. They pulled away all too soon. She could feel her cheeks heating up under his intense gaze.

“I’ll see you around.” He spoke. Just like she had to him on the day they first met. It wasn’t just a turn of phrase, or a half-hearted farewell – it felt like a promise.

“Uh – Bye.” Esperanza croaked. She took a step back, blushing furiously and internally cursing her body for giving her away so easily. João smirked. His confidence returned to him fully. Glancing around to make sure that no one was watching them first, he took a single stride forwards and tilted his head to the side to press a soft kiss to Esperanza’s cheek. The young woman almost squeaked in shock. But João, as he drew back to look her in the eye, merely winked. And then he was walking away, leaving her stood, dazed and confused outside of the tube station.

Tentatively, she brought a hand up to ghost her fingertips over the place where João’s lips had touched her cheek. A pleasant shiver ran all the way down her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Esperanza didn’t notice him look back as he walked away, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. She was too busy trying to figure out why the tiniest brush of João’s skin on hers made her feel like she was flying.

— author’s note

they’re so cute 🥹