#who should it be about i was thinking like kepa being the other guy but idk who should be the actual boyfriend

[julianalvarez9]

wrote the most heartbreaking dialogue at 2 am. let's hope i never find the wip again bc if i do- my eyes will fucking fall of for crying so much

[kepamount]

Fire In Your Eyes ♠️

Part 2 - Kepa’s POV

mafiaboss!kepa, dark romance, angst, smut, fluff, comedy

Rating: M

Warnings: dark themes, organised crime, blood, use of rope, cable ties and tape as restraints, starvation (i think???), mention of knives, female sexualisation (kepa finds y/n sexy and it's all he can think about lol), i think that’s everything but pls lmk if i missed something!

Word Count: 3.4k+

a/n: hey guys! here’s the second part of FIYE!! sorry for going ghost again - my rome holiday tired me out and i've just been recovering from that lol, i'll try to be more active now. pls lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be added to the taglist. hope you enjoy!! x

taglist 🤍: @silverlightprincess

‘Don’t you think we should feed her, boss?’ Mason says, looking over my shoulder at my phone, live CCTV footage from the room she’s locked in on the screen. She’s been sat there for nearly 20 hours now, tied to the chair whilst falling in and out of sleep. She hasn’t shed a single tear. I think I’d be proud if it didn’t piss me off so much. I’ve never had a prisoner be so defiant. Her strength is only making me want to break her even more.

‘She made her bed. Now she has to sleep in it,’ I say, locking my phone and putting it down on the desk, Mason walking away to sit on the sofa closest to me. ‘Lie in it. She’s made her bed and now she has to lie in it,’ he corrects me, and I wave a hand in the air. My English might be near perfect but I don’t think I’ll ever understand their stupid idioms.

‘Have you spoken to her father yet?’ Mason asks, and I shake my head, no. ‘Why not?’ ‘I want el cabrón viejo to spend a few days wondering who shot his man and stole his daughter from him first,’ I lie. I have spoken to him, but I haven’t decided how much of the conversation I will relay to my men yet.

‘By the sounds of it, he’s not gonna care,’ Mason says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Her words can’t be trusted,’ I remind him, and he gives me a sceptical look, both of us knowing from the girl’s tone the other night that she wasn’t lying.

‘Say she’s telling the truth. Say he really doesn’t care. What will you do with her?’ Mason asks, and I remain silent. It’s a question I’ve been thinking about a lot since she told us she’s his stepdaughter, and I still haven’t come to an answer yet. I can’t tell Mason that though. I need him to think I always have a solution to any problem we come across.

‘Her brothers.’ ‘…Her brothers?’ Mason asks, and I nod. ‘Her father’s getting old, and he’s much wiser than most of us. He doesn’t care about pride anymore, and he won’t risk anything in the name of his pride. But her brothers are young and stupid, and they have more pride than anyone else in the world. They won’t like that the Revueltas took their sister from them. Even if they don’t care about her, they’ll start a war to protect their pride,’ I explain, Mason nodding as though he thinks it’s a good idea.

‘So if the old bastard can’t be arsed, we’ll piss off the brothers instead?’ Mason confirms, and I nod. ‘But keep it to yourself for now. I don’t need the others discussing this,’ I warn him, and he draws a cross over his heart. ‘You know me, boss. Won’t breathe a word,’ he grins, and I raise an eyebrow at him, both of us knowing he’s a big mouth.

‘Check on her,’ he prompts, for the twentieth time in the last hour, and I shoot him a look. I hate being told what to do, and people seem to be trying to do it more often than they should at the moment. Nonetheless, I unlock my phone, checking the CCTV of the room she’s locked in again. She’s dozed off, head lolling forward with her chin against her chest, her back so straight that it even looks uncomfortable.

I feel a stab of guilt in my chest, and it makes me want to shoot something. I’ve done much worse to people for doing much less than she did, and I never felt guilty about any of them. But then again, none of them were as sexy as she is.

When Mason brought her into the office with the tape over her mouth, her hands tied behind her back and her body covered in blood, I felt heat rushing to my groin. I never thought I would find it hot to see a girl’s skin stained with her dead best friend’s blood, but here we are. Maybe it’s brainwashing from all those horror movies.

And that stare of hers. The anger in her eyes, the hard set of her jaw. Like a poodle puppy trying to be a rottweiler. Not to mention her mouth, the one she can’t seem to keep shut. No one’s ever spoken to me the way she did, looked at me the way she did, and gotten away alive. But there she was, ten minutes later, inspecting the knives in my cutlery drawer. I need to put a lock on that.

I can still feel her touch on my hand, bandaging up my cuts. Sophia usually deals with injuries but I thought I’d let her have a go, and I regretted it almost straight away. Her featherlight touches, her painted-white nails lightly scraping across my skin, the fact that my one hand is bigger than her two put together. My dick’s never gotten hard as quickly as it did that night.

Up close, her face looks different, especially since she wasn’t glaring at me. Relaxed, her features looked so delicate, fragile almost, and the softness of her cheeks made her look much younger. I wondered what her eyes would look like, but she didn’t look up from my hand once, focused on the task at hand with no interest for me.

And then she just carried on searching for food like nothing had happened, settling on the curly fries that I keep in the freezer for my niece when she’s here. She’s something else, with her dishwasher prejudices, her dietary requirements and her photography. Her phone has been calling out to me from where it’s locked in the safe under my desk, just begging me to go through it and see exactly what kind of photos she was talking about.

Since the moment I laid eyes on her, I’ve known I needed to get a deal sorted with her father to get her out of my house, so I phoned him as soon as Sophia, Kai, Trev and Christian left for their flight.

‘Reveulta. To what do I owe the pleasure?’ ‘We have her.’ ‘Ah, it was you? Well done.’ ‘Is that all you have to say?’ ‘I hope you’re not expecting threats or bargaining, because I don’t really need her back.’ ‘Cut the shit.’ ‘There is no… shit to cut, as you say. I was planning to offer her to you for marriage anyway. You’ve done me a favour, saved me all the negotiations.’ ‘…I don’t understand?’ ‘She’s my stepdaughter, Revuelta. As good to me as her mother is, and her mother’s dead now. So keep her, and do with her what you will. We’ll call it quits.’

The girl was right. He doesn’t care for her. I could let her go free today and her father probably wouldn’t even take her back in. He’s glad to be rid of her, and that brings a sick feeling to my stomach, which is quite irritating in all honesty.

As soon as I tell my men that she’s worth nothing, they’ll line up to either kill her or fuck her, and even the thought of it makes my blood boil. If any of them dare to put a hand on her, I’ll be the one doing the killing. I’m the one that kidnapped her, so she’s my toy to play with. My girl to break until she’s on her knees, begging for my mercy.

Though I’m sure it’s gonna take a lot of work. The girl is quite literally insane. Watching her on the CCTV, trying to break the lock on her door with a curtain pole, was the most entertaining 20 minutes of my life. And then, moments later, she burst into a made man’s office – his men sat around the room with guns in their hands – in a skimpy see-through t-shirt, nipples straining against the fabric, and her hands covered in blood. Again. It’s like she was sent to make sure I’m constantly hard.

Seeing her stand her ground, making complaints to a man that could kill her with his bare hands, I nearly pushed her down onto her knees and found a satisfying way to shut her up. Instead, I told her no one cares about her, dragged her up to the torture room, pressed a gun to her forehead and left her there to cry even though she begged me not to. Real smooth.

But it’s not like I didn’t give her an out less than 3 hours later! It’s not my fault she was too proud – or too unhinged – to take it. And, yes, it pissed me off, so I taped her mouth and tied her neck to the chair. That’s what happens when you don’t know that your place is beneath me.

‘Don’t you feel bad?’ Mason asks, stood behind me and looking at the screen again. ‘No. Do you?’ I ask, wondering if I need to rethink whether he should be my underboss. ‘No. It’s just… all she’s eaten in the last 50 hours is a plate of curly fries,’ he says quietly and, again, the guilt in my chest makes me want to kick something out of frustration.

‘I told her I’d leave her in there for a day. It hasn’t been a day yet.’ ‘Kepa, it’s been 20 hours. She won’t even know that it’s 4 hours less than what you promised,’ Mason says tiredly, as though I’m being unreasonable, and I remain silent for a few long moments, both of us watching her sleep on the screen. Well, I’m assuming she’s sleeping. She could be passed out from hunger for all we know.

‘There’s a loaf of gluten-free bread in the kitchen cupboard where we keep the normal bread, and there’s dairy-free cheese in the fridge. Go and make her a cheese sandwich. And use the dairy-free butter as well. Bring her down and then bring her the food from the kitchen. Leave the tape on her mouth and the cable tie around her wrists,’ I instruct, ignoring the dark voice inside me telling me to leave her there for another four hours.

‘Not gonna feed her things she can’t eat again?’ Mason asks with a cheeky grin as he heads across the room, and I shoot him a look. ‘Ten cuidado,’ I warn him, before continuing, ‘I don’t know why everyone thinks I was behind that. It wasn’t me.’ ‘It wasn’t?’ he asks sceptically, stopping in the door way, and I shake my head.

‘Our chef took it upon herself to explicitly ignore the instructions I gave her. I assume she didn’t like having to cook to certain dietary requirements,’ I say mildly, Mason’s eyebrows rising so high they disappear behind his hair. ‘Does that explain why I saw her dragging her bags out through the front door yesterday?’ he asks, and I shrug, both of us knowing that yes, it does explain it. If my staff disobey me, they don’t remain as my staff for much longer.

‘I can’t believe you fired her. She makes the best tacos,’ Mason grumbles, and I shake my head amusedly. ‘Get your new favourite prisoner to make them for you instead. It’s her fault your chef’s gone,’ I remind him, Mason visibly perking up at the mention of the girl.

It seems I’m not the only one she has an… odd effect on. Dios. I need to get her out of this house before she makes one of us do something stupid. And then I watch Mason bound off down the corridor to make her a sandwich with gluten-free bread and dairy-free cheese, and I realise that it’s already too late.

I distract myself with a few phone calls but my curiosity gets the better of me after a while and I check the CCTV footage again. My timing is perfect, Mason just entering the room as the live footage loads on my screen. He must have taken his time making her sandwich.

She’s awake now, eyeing him warily as he grins at her. He must crack a joke, her face softening like she’s laughing behind the tape over her mouth, and it makes me want to lock him up along with her. She hasn’t given me a single smile, and yet Mason seems to get one from her every time he opens his mouth.

I watch as he drops to one knee, cutting her legs free, before walking around to cut her neck free of the rope too. He helps her to her feet but her legs are clearly stiff, her knees giving way. Anger sparks in my chest as he slides an arm around her waist to keep her upright. They walk slowly towards the door, her shoulders shaking with laughter at something he says. Yeah, I’ve seen enough.

I lock my phone, dropping it to the desk so I don’t throw it against the wall, and I busy myself with scrolling through emails on my laptop. My eyes skim across the screen but none of the words go in, my focus elsewhere. I’m like a teenage girl standing at the window, waiting for her date to pick her up. What is wrong with me?

When the office doors open, I don’t look up, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the screen. I let them both stand there for as long as I can bear before I look up at Mason, ignoring her fiery stare as I dismiss him with a nod. He lets go of her, heading back out through the door, and I finally allow myself to look at her.

Her eyes are red and bleary, dark circles prominent beneath them. Her skin is a shade lighter than when I locked her in the room, and it’s almost as though she looks thinner after not eating much in the last couple days. She looks exhausted but still strong, like she’d rather spend another week locked in that room than comply with me. The girl’s a fighter, I’ll give her that.

‘Don’t look at me like that. You brought this on yourself,’ I remind her, the accusation in her eyes dimming slightly. At least she knows it’s her own fault. ‘This doesn’t have to be difficult. Believe it or not, I haven’t enjoyed treating you like this,’ I lie, the look in her eyes saying she doesn’t believe it for a second. This girl already knows me too well.

‘You’re a young girl, and you’re my… ¿cómo se dice en inglés? Leverage,’ I say, the word taking its time to come to me, and she rolls her eyes. I never knew someone could be so expressive with their eyes. She doesn’t even need to speak for me to know what she’s thinking.

‘I know you think you’re worthless to your stepfather, but you’re wrong. I have spoken to him,’ I say, the girl trying her hardest to remain nonchalant. She raises an eyebrow, as if to ask what we discussed, and I let out a soft laugh.

‘I do not discuss the details of my business con un rehén. But let’s just say that you will not be spending any more time tied to a chair. He wants you taken care of,’ I lie, the glimmer of hope that appears in her eyes sparking endearment in my chest, anger at myself following after it. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt affection, jealousy or guilt and, suddenly, this girl is making me feel all three.

‘You will be put back in your bedroom, without a lock on the door. You have freedom to roam around the house and the gardens as you wish. There is food in the kitchen that you can eat – not just curly fries – and you are free to make yourself meals whenever you want to. If you need anything, you speak to Mason or to me. And you do not, under any circumstances, burst into my office without knocking again. Am I understood?’ I ask, the thought that I’m an absolute idiot echoing in my mind.

She tries to hide the surprise and relief but it’s clear to see in the way her eyebrows rise ever-so-slightly, in the way her shoulders lose their tension. ‘I asked if I’m understood,’ I say, my voice becoming harsher, and she nods after a short moment. ‘Bien,’ I say as Mason re-enters the room, a plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

‘Cut her wrists free and take the tape from her mouth,’ I tell him, and I watch her as her eyes follow the plate, her pupils practically dilating at the sight of food. He puts the plate and glass down on my desk before going back to her, cutting the cable tie behind her back and slowly peeling the tape from her mouth. She doesn’t wince this time.

She lets out a soft sigh when her mouth is free, taking the glass from Mason and gulping down the water like a woman parched. Well… I suppose she is a woman parched. Mason wasn’t wrong the other day – watching her drink like this is pretty hot.

He refills the glass for her before getting the first aid kit from one of the shelves across the room. At the sight of the kit, she looks surprised before remembering her hands are bloody from destroying the lock on her door.

I should be on the phone or on my laptop but I can’t take my eyes away from her as Mason cleans her hands with an antiseptic wipe – it’s a bit late considering she’s had those cuts on her hands for nearly an entire day, but he’s not used to cleaning wounds, which is obvious with how he puts around ten small plasters on each of her hands instead of one big bandage. He means well. Again, she doesn’t wince, and I give myself credit for hardening her against small pains. She’ll thank me for this one day.

She thanks him with a small smile once he’s done, her voice so soft I can’t even hear it, only able to make out what she says from the movement of her lips. ‘Sit down,’ he tells her, pointing to one of the sofas, and she does so, her body visibly relieved at finally sitting on a comfortable surface. He takes her the plate, and she raises an eyebrow, her disbelieving gaze directed at me. He gets smiles and thank yous, and I get glares and scepticism.

‘It’s gluten-free bread, and dairy-free cheese. No nuts in either,’ I say drily, mild guilt appearing on her face. And then she surprises me by asking, ‘Promise?’ Is this girl for real? ‘Yes. I promise,’ I say begrudgingly, and that’s all she needs to lift the sandwich to her mouth, taking a bite.

If she has any reservations about eating in front of men, she doesn’t show them, eating in the most unladylike manner I’ve ever seen in my life. She devours the gluten-free and dairy-free sandwich – which I can only imagine tastes like cardboard – as though it’s a gourmet meal prepared by a Michelin star chef. Mason and I watch her, both of us unreasonably fascinated, but she pays no attention to us, her focus on the rapidly depleting food in front of her.

Once she’s finished, she drinks some water before croaking out her thanks. Thanking us for feeding her a shitty sandwich after tying her to a chair and leaving her with nothing but her thoughts for almost an entire day. This girl is too soft. ‘I’ll make you another one,’ Mason says, taking the plate from her and practically sprinting out of the room. I really need to have a word with him.

My phone begins ringing after a moment and I answer the call, barely able to focus on the conversation while she’s sat in the room. She’s trying to pretend she’s not listening, her eyes taking in the details of the room, but I can tell she’s eavesdropping and understanding a fair bit of what I say. I did my research, so I know she studied Spanish growing up, alongside several other languages. I suddenly wonder what it’d be like to hear her speak Spanish, the thought making my blood warm.

I block her out of my mind, focusing on the voice on the other end of the phone, and I only allow myself to look at her when the call is finished, a small smile finding its way to my lips. So much has happened in this room, other than just business. Fights, sex, drinking, poker, murder, drugs, torture. But nothing as odd as this girl curled up in the corner of a sofa, sleeping soundly in one of my old t-shirts.

[matshoemels]

beginner’s guide to Turkey NT, a.k.a. the kebabs as snaccs

disclaimer: what you’re about to see here right now may cause intense feelings in your nether regions and makes you wanna question your commitment to the other national teams!

OLDIES BUT HOTTIES (Those that are around since 2016 or so)

Mert Günok, Goalkeeper. The most lowkey dude ever. (Basaksehir SK, 30) 

why the hell this man doesn’t have any decent photos or any sort of instagram account istg imma rage. just take my word for it he’s a hottie.

Harun Tekin, Goalkeeper. The penalty king. (Fenerbahçe SK, 29)

Not getting called up recently, which is honestly the biggest crime I’ve ever witnessed in my 25 year long life but sirrrrrrrrrrrr congrats on your face and body and overall existence. not only he’s a dad but he’s also a daddy u kno what I mean??? me gusta mucho

Also do yourselves a favor and watch his penalty saves on youtube, you’re all welcome.

Serdar Aziz, Defender. The Ginger Ale (Fenerbahçe SK, 28)

He’s injured these days so he can’t grace us with his sexiness and overall hotness, but he’ll be back shortly to end mbappe’s career himself for the second leg.

İsmail Köybaşı, Defender. Cameras hate him. (Fenerbahçe SK, 29)

honestly the least photogenic person I’ve ever seen in my entire life. he’s so bad at football these days that not even his own club wants him, but we should call him up for the NT just to stare at him sometimes. A total snack, I rate him 100000/10.

Nuri Şahin, Midfielder. Everyone’s favorite Turco-German. (Werder Bremen, 30)

Retired but I’m trying to raise 300 million euros to bribe him so that he would come back from his retirement, so far I raised only like 8 euros so it’s not going great. *cue guitar* I miss you, bitch. I ain’t gonna stop missing you, bitch.

Hakan Çalhanoğlu, Midfielder. Asshole but in a hot way. (AC Milan, 25)

His whole thing with his wife and his time in leverkusen are so problematic im not even gonna touch that. but what I’m gonna touch given the opportunity is those daaaaaaamn abs. jeez dude how can you be so textbook keko but also this hot at the same time?? I demand answers.

Oğuzhan Özyakup, Midfielder. The Not-So Flying Dutchguy (Beşiktaş JK, 26)

to be honest, not my thing, but Eda @youmeafterthegame likes him very much and he’s her personal emotional support keko with one working braincell that happens to be emo all the time, so he’s included. also, the camera hates him just as much as it hates Ismail.

THE NEXTGEN - We will die for them, we will kill for them.

Berke Özer, Goalkeeper. The Golden Boy. (Fenerbahçe, 19)

My favorite son whom I love with all my heart. A BABY, but also a straight-up hottie cause he got my genes. He loves everyone so much and everyone loves him back, like a puppy dog but once he hits puberty, everyone will be in a grave danger. Also he has the best bromance with his transfer boyfriend (2nd pic) that would overshadow all your crappy ships.

+ he kinda looks like kepa idk we just feel like it.

Enes Ünal, Forward. Hipster child of the Kebab NT. (Real Valladolid, 22)

Too much Harry Styles vibes, love him for that. He has a girlfriend who also plays football (and I think she’s waaaay more successful than him? who even knows) and they’re adorable. A child that grew up right in front of our eyes, and then said “fuck this, imma go play at man city and then play in every single team in la liga for a year and nothing more”. he once demolished atletico madrid in 5 minutes and that was very sexy of him, congrats my son. (sorry Eda)

Kenan Karaman, Forward. “Where have you beeeen all my life?”. (Fortuna Düsseldorf, 25)

ngl I had no idea he existed until like a week ago or something but woooowwwwww....... sir you’re a fine dude with an even finer face. congrats on your overall being. 

Mehmet Zeki Çelik, Defender. My new husband once he gets old enough. (Lille, 22)

mmm excuse me sir but you don’t get to do that??? you don’t get to look like that while you’re living in france and not in turkey?? I’m sorry but this is the law imma ask you to come back here immediately and not to leave my sight not even for 1 (one) second thank u in advance.

Dorukhan Toköz, Defender. The guy that ended Paul Pogba’s career prematurely. (Beşiktaş JK, 23)

does he play in a horrible, horrible team? yes. did I hate him with a great passion during the season out of my duty to my own club? yes I did. but now it’s time to come together and when I say it’s time to come together, I really mean coming together if u know what I mean.......... congrats boy, you’ve made into the “trees I’d like to climb on” list.

that wraps things up I guess thank u for reading but more thank you to me for sitting down my ass and creating this masterpiece. you’re welcome tumblr, you owe me a big time!