❦ - Not Enough To Keep You.

here’s mine? my handwriting is REALLY shit bc i’m in a moving car but whatever! anyways idk how long i’ve been an f1 fan bc i was lowkey born into it…?

tags:: (IM SO SORRY IF UN WANTED bc these are my only moots that haven’t done it yet!) @paucubarsisimp @httpsdana @hearts4musiala

I did the the f1blr 2025 introductory board by @lil-shiro (thank you lil neb)

Tagging, and with no pressure of course ! @blairdii @kolbalissh @shrimptiger @beabnormal24 @chamberkat @strwbrryfire @xxxdeerlordxxx @artchvies @girldriveroscar @isacksteban @finn95o @allphatauri @lain-at-the-gay-bar @disarmd @ellearts

Hiii, would you write for Trent Alexander-Arnold?

❦ - headlines.

summary:: a day in the life w your boyfriend.

warnings:: made up match (just to make my uncle happy?)

writers note:: idk if this is a question or request but here you are!! also magui blocked me on tiktok and i’m honoured bc her ego can’t match her sensitivity! 🤍

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

trent was always the first to wake up. it didn’t matter if it was a matchday, an off day, or the rare chance to sleep in, his body was wired to rise with the sun. most mornings, he would slip out of bed quietly, careful not to wake you, and head downstairs to start his routine. but today, he stayed.

he turned onto his side, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. his arm draped over your waist, fingers brushing against the warm skin of your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. outside, the faint sounds of liverpool waking up drifted through the window, but inside, everything was still.

‘why’re you so close,’ you huffed out a laugh, barely opening your eyes as you reached back, fingers carding through his curls. ‘we’ve been together for years, trent. thought the novelty would’ve worn off by now.’

‘never.’ his voice was low, a little rough, and you shivered when he pressed a lazy kiss just beneath your jaw.

it would have been easy to stay in bed all day, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, but trent had training. you knew the exact moment he realized it too, his sigh was deep, reluctant, his grip tightening like he could somehow hold onto time if he held onto you tight enough.

‘you don’t have to go,’ you said, knowing he absolutely did.

‘don’t tempt me,’ he groaned, rolling onto his back and rubbing a hand over his face. ‘slott would kill me.’

‘probably,’ you admitted, stretching your legs before sitting up. ‘but imagine the headlines. “trent alexander-arnold skips training for a lie-in with partner.”’

‘bit long for a headline, that.’

‘fine. “trent’s in love.”’

his eyes softened as he looked at you, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile. ‘always.’

you never got tired of watching him play.

there was something about the way he moved, the way he saw the game differently from everyone else. the way he took risks that no one else would, because he knew he could make them work.

tonight was a big game. liverpool vs. man city. the kind of fixture that made your stomach twist with nerves, even though you weren’t the one stepping onto the pitch.

you sat in the stands, surrounded by familiar faces, players’ families, friends, all of you bound together by the same tension. trent had looked good in warm-ups, sharp and focused, but you knew him well enough to sense the pressure sitting on his shoulders.

when the match started, city came out strong, pressing high, forcing liverpool deep. trent was everywhere, tracking back, winning duels, threading passes between the lines. then, in the 32nd minute, it happened.

the ball broke loose in midfield. trent took a touch, lifted his head, and saw the opening before anyone else did. a perfect switch across the pitch, straight to salah’s feet. in a flash, salah was inside the box, cutting onto his left foot and curling it past the keeper.

anfield erupted.

trent didn’t celebrate much. he never did unless it was something special. but his eyes found you in the stands, and when you blew him a kiss, he gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod.

the game wore on. city equalized, then took the lead, but liverpool kept fighting. in the 85th minute, a free kick was awarded just outside the box.

your heart pounded as trent stepped up.

he took a breath, then struck the ball cleanly. it curled over the wall, dipped at the last second, and nestled into the bottom corner.

he turned on his heel, arms outstretched, letting the roar of anfield wash over him.

and then, without thinking, he ran straight to you.

he didn’t even hesitate, just climbed over the barriers and reached for you, his hands on either side of your face as he kissed you, hard, ignoring the cameras and the cheers and everything else.

when he pulled away, breathless, he grinned. ‘told you i’d make the headline.’

kali uchis’ “your teeth in my neck” is my new obsession. the song isn’t lyrically phenomenal but the way she can make a song about wealth inequality so sultry is amazing 😭 her voice is so smooth and raspy and the way she pronounces her vowels is so satisfying 😻

João req! How he would spend the readers birthday for the first time together?

❦ - yours for the day.

summary:: it’s your first birthday with joao, and he made sure to make it the best day you’ve ever had.

warnings:: uhhh none?

writers note:: i don’t think i’ve ever been so happy to see a request in my life because i had a draft vers of sum similar but i didn’t like it so bc of this i was able to give it a glow up and give it use to thank you darling! 🩵

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if you wanna be added or removed!

your birthday had never been a big deal to you. sure, you appreciated the messages, the cake, the occasional gift, but you never expected much. so when joão asked you a week before what you wanted to do, you just shrugged.

‘whatever you want, i’m happy with.’

he had frowned at that, shaking his head. ‘nah, this is your day. i want to make it special.’

you didn’t argue, just smiled and let him plan. and now, waking up to soft kisses trailing along your shoulder, you figured you’d made the right choice.

‘bom dia, meu amor,’ he murmured, voice still heavy with sleep. ‘happy birthday.’

you turned over to face him, heart melting at the sight of his messy hair and sleepy smile. ‘thank you.’

he kissed your forehead before getting up. ‘stay in bed, i’ll be right back.’

you obeyed, stretching under the covers, wondering what he was up to. moments later, he returned with a tray, fresh fruit, pastries, a cup of coffee just the way you liked it.

‘breakfast in bed?’ you teased, sitting up.

he grinned. ‘of course. only the best for my birthday girl.’

you laughed, taking a bite of a flaky croissant. ‘if this is how you do birthdays, i might start liking them more.’

joão’s eyes softened as he watched you. ‘that’s the goal.’

the morning passed lazily, the two of you tangled in each other, talking about everything and nothing. he didn’t rush you, didn’t push any plans, just let you enjoy the slow start to the day.

eventually, he pulled you up from bed. ‘come on, we’ve got places to be.’

‘where are we going?’

he smirked. ‘not telling.’

you groaned, but let him lead you outside, where his car was waiting. the drive was peaceful, his hand resting on your thigh as he hummed along to the music.

when he finally parked, you blinked in surprise. ‘joão…’

he had taken you to an art museum, one you’d mentioned in passing months ago, saying you’d love to visit someday. you hadn’t expected him to remember.

‘you said you wanted to come here,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘thought it’d be a nice way to spend the afternoon.’

your chest warmed at the thoughtfulness. ‘this is perfect.’

he smiled, grabbing your hand as you both walked inside.

you wandered through the exhibits, taking your time, soaking in the art. joão wasn’t the biggest art guy, but he listened when you talked about your favorite pieces, nodding along even when he didn’t fully get it.

at one point, he pulled you aside, his eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘if you could steal one painting and no one would ever know, which one would it be?’

you bit your lip, scanning the room before pointing to a serene landscape painting. ‘that one.’

he chuckled. ‘good choice. mine would be that weird abstract one over there.’

you laughed. ‘of course it would.’

after the museum, he took you to a cozy little restaurant, another place you’d mentioned wanting to try. the dinner was perfect, filled with laughter and quiet moments where he just looked at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen.

when you got back home, you were sure the day was over. but joão had one more surprise.

he led you to the living room, where a small box sat on the table. ‘open it.’

you shot him a look. ‘joão, you didn’t have to—’

‘just open it,’ he insisted, grinning.

rolling your eyes fondly, you lifted the lid. inside was a delicate necklace, a small charm in the shape of a star hanging from the chain.

‘because you’re my estrela,’ he murmured, fastening it around your neck.

you swallowed past the lump in your throat, turning to him. ‘this is…’

he cupped your face, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. ‘i just wanted you to know how much you mean to me. i hope today was everything you wanted.’

you smiled, pulling him into a hug. ‘it was perfect. you’re perfect.’

he chuckled, kissing your temple. ‘happy birthday, meu amor.’

and for the first time in a long time, you really, truly loved your birthday.

MY FAVE WRITOR 😍😍 i love this and everything you do babe you’re amazing 💔💔

could u do a hector fort x reader where he’s at training and during the break, one of his teammates show him multiple social media posts uploaded by his mom of her and his gf of 2-years having a girls day without him knowing prior. the whole team is teasing him and saying how locked in they are and he’s just so happy asf saying that’s wifey and stuff like that xx

✮ Tú y Mamá - Hector Fort

hector fort x fem!reader

sy: hector’s mood had been low all day, from your absent messages for hours. what he doesn’t know though, is your date with his mother was what you were up to.

a/n: this was a little crammed into my schedule to write, so im really sorry if it’s a lil stiff but ty for the req 🧡(ifykyk @n0vazsq)

warnings: nope!

the ciutat esportiva was electric, barça players scattered out amongst the pitch, immersed within a full spectrum of excersise and activities.

hector was completing goal warmups, firing past numerous balls beyond inaki. nearby, cubarsí and lamine were atop a cooler box, following every movement hector made.

“he looks sorta angry doesn’t he?” lamine nodded over, grabbing pau’s attention. “i wonder what’s up with him.”

“did you not hear what he was talking to balde and ansu about? his girl hadn’t messaged him this morning.” pau noted in all solemnity.

“what?” lamine grinned, “are you serious? de ninguna manera.”

“im serious.” pau scoffed, shaking his head. “he’s crazy over that girl.”

lamine let out an exasperated sigh, watching as hansi blew out his whistle to signal the first water break of the morning.

hector kept his head low, strutting past the two guys in a seemingly rushed hurry. his eyes were locked onto the ramp to the lockers, as lamine and pau instantly followed his footsteps.

their cleats were in a rhythmic motion, the clicks bouncing from the concrete walls onto the otherwise silent hallway. hector’s movements had stopped at this point, an eerie silence lingering.

“hey hermano?” lamine called out, his voice echoing off the bricks. they meet face with the locker room, sighting hector’s figure silhouetted in the dim light. he sat on the bench below his locker, head in hands.

his curls were messy and crumbled, his jersey clinging to his sweat-drenched body—his toned abs on display.

“why are you in here man? your bottles outside.” pau walked on closer, gently swatting his head.

hector let past a low murmur, tugging his shirt over his head. lamine frowned, taking a seat next to him.

“what’s the matter with you amigo? you don’t seem yourself today.” he further pressed, as they exchanged a knowing look.

“im alright, just tired.” he grumbled. it probably would of been believable if his voice wasn’t so threaded with tension.

“ey, the usual im tired gimmick,” pau teased but tone firm. “seriously hector, what is it?”

as hector was about to retaliate, a follow-up echo of shoes clacked against the floor, revealing a wide-eyed gavi, pedri, casado and olmo.

“coach has been looking everywhere for you three!” dani exclaimed, flailing his arms. “why are you all in here?”

pedri sighed in relief whilst muttering a small, “i told you so,” to gavi who didn’t seem to hear.

“ask him that,” lamine gestured to hector, inviting the four players near. the group drew closer, with raised brows and curious expressions upon hector’s uncharacteristic gloom.

“we saw you with that dopey look on your face earlier,” gavi tried to lighten the somber mood, grinning. “wipe that glare off man.”

hector didn’t comment, he just kept his gaze onto his lap where he was fidgeting with his jersey.

casado huffed, trying to bring reassurance. “it’s not personal H, she’s just busy with your mom.”

the words rolled off his tongue simultaneously, though by the look on hectors face, he immediately regretted it.

“she’s what?” hector abruptly stood up, voice rising and laced with confusion.

“uh, yeah, she’s been with your mom all morning.” the spaniard mumbled, stepping back ever so subtly.

“how do you know?” hector advanced onto him, his face now inches apart from marc’s. hector’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his cheek twitching.

“oh si.. she posted it on instagram,” he gulped, the colour drained from his face. “earlier.”

hector’s glare intensified, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “my question is, why do you follow her?” he interrogated.

“no reason.. i follow everybody.” he said weakly, hurriedly shoving his phone into his pocket.

hectors eyes narrowed, the type of look that made marc shift uncomfortably. as though he was about to burst, pau quickly intervened, slinging his arm over his shoulder. “don’t worry hermano, he followed my sister and her friends who he’s never even met before.”

marc let out a sigh of relief, dropping his tense shoulders. a few of the boys snickered, poking fun at casado for his internet obsession.

pau continued, slowly steering hector’s attention away, “and get this, he liked so many of her posts that her boyfriend had to step in.” pau proceeded laughing, causing casado cheeks to blush.

“ey! i was admiring her aesthetic!” marc tried to defend, though that never really stopped the rest of them making fun of him.

“can’t you do that with your own sister? i don’t blame irene for blocking you!” pedri clapped his back.

“what? irene blocked you?” lamine doubled over laughing, clutching his stomach for air. “no way!”

“okay whatever whatever, show me again.” hector interrupted the guys’ gig, motioning for gavi’s phone.

pablo protested, although dani elllbowed him into submission. reluctantly, he pulled up the post on his phone, as hector took it from his hands.

hector flicked through the numerous posts, images of you and his mother laughing, posing, and seemingly drunk off merriment.

they featured everything from coffee dates and endearingly charming selfies, to affectionate boasts about your latest matching nail sets together.

each photo possessed a natural setting, no forced chemistry, no pre-practised techniques or no false smiles. hector couldn’t shake the swell of his heart that was multiplying with each swipe, his grin only growing wider.

the simplicity of all of the candid shots, brought an unwavering, flustering emotion over him—his earlier frustration melted away. who knew that all he needed was a few coupled images of the two women he loved most in this world, to cure his dishevels.

“look at that smile on his face,” lamine teased. “he’s so happy, it’s disgusting.”

“see the way he’s invested in them,” gavi added, him and pedri similarly leaning into eachother by snickering. “he’s completely gone.”

“she’s got you hooked man,” dani commented, also grinning ear to ear.

laughter filled the room again, but this time, hector joined in. he ran a hand through his hair, with pablo’s phone still in hand, gazing fondly at the screen.

“at least we now know who really runs your life,” pedri qipped finally.

“she’s worth it though, they both are,” he said simply, the sincerity in his voice silencing any further teasing.

the others nodded, their teasing softening into gentle ribbing. “of course she is,” marc stated. “just don’t let her forget it.”

hector chuckled, his heart now infinitely lighter than it had been all morning and his mind no longer foggy. “believe me, i won’t.”

Hector fort taking care of reader who had her period unprepared and is embarrassed about it cuz her ex used to get mad at her for it?

Maybe?

Perhaps?

(Idk how to request if you didn’t notice already 😭)

❦ - unexpected but never a problem.

summary:: what the req says.

warnings:: nooooone? cussing i think…?

writers notes:: i love you anon you’re so cute i saw it and instantly wrote it you’re adorable! anyways im not very good w requests so i really dunno if this is what you wanted but i hope u love it nonetheless? gimme feedback yg i beg 💔. ALSO I HAVE NO JOAO REQUESTS GIMME SOME PLSSS

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

you realize it too late.

the uncomfortable dampness, the slight cramping you brushed off earlier, the way hector’s hoodie, his favorite one, now feels impossibly heavy around your waist as you tie it there in a desperate attempt to hide the evidence.

you should have known. you should have been prepared. but your cycle has always been unpredictable, and with how distracted you’ve been lately, school, work, trying not to fall too hard for the boy currently walking beside you - you weren’t paying attention.

now, you’re hyperaware. of every step you take, of every shift in fabric, of how you can feel it, and god, you don’t even want to check. you don’t want to know how bad it is.

but the worst part? you know what happens next.

or, at least, you think you do.

‘you good?’ hector asks, nudging your shoulder gently.

his voice is casual, light, but you can hear the underlying concern. you’re usually more talkative, always teasing him about something, and now you’re barely saying a word.

you swallow hard. ‘yeah. just… tired.’

he doesn’t look convinced. he studies you for a second, his gaze flicking to the hoodie tied around your waist.

then he stops walking.

‘okay, what’s wrong?’

your stomach twists. ‘nothing, hector, i just..’

‘nah, you’re acting weird. did something happen?’

the worry in his voice only makes the knot in your throat worse. but what are you supposed to say? hey, i just bled through my clothes, and i’m freaking out because my ex used to act like it was the worst thing in the world whenever this happened?

your silence lasts a second too long.

hector frowns. then his eyes flick down again, just for a second, before realization dawns on his face.

your heart pounds.

this is it. this is where he pulls back, where he sighs in frustration, where he makes some offhand comment about how you should’ve planned better. you brace for it, already shrinking into yourself, already fighting back the burning embarrassment

but then he’s shrugging off his jacket.

before you can react, he steps closer, wrapping it securely around your waist, completely covering the hoodie. he makes quick work of tying the sleeves, knotting them tight like it’s second nature.

your breath catches.

‘there,’ he says easily, tugging once to make sure it’s secure. ‘you wanna go home?’

you blink. ‘…what?’

he gives you a look. ‘you’re clearly not comfortable. we can dip.’

he’s not mad. he’s not annoyed.

he’s just helping.

you stare at him, your chest tight, emotions tangling together too fast for you to process.

‘you don’t have to do all that,’ you mumble.

he shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘why wouldn’t i?’

you hesitate, fingers gripping the edge of the jacket now wrapped around you. ‘because it’s gross.’

his brow furrows. ‘who told you that?’

you freeze.

you don’t mean to react, but the words hit you like a gut punch. because you know who told you that. over and over again, in every careless remark, every sigh, every time he made you feel like something you couldn’t control was your fault.

and hector sees it.

he exhales, dragging a hand down his face, before looking at you again, softer this time.

‘listen, i don’t know who made you feel bad about this, but that’s bullshit. it’s not gross, it’s not your fault, and you sure as hell don’t need to be embarrassed about it.’ he shakes his head, muttering, ‘like, how do you even get mad at someone for having a body? that’s insane.’

you let out a breathy laugh, small, but real.

hector smirks. ‘there she is.’

you roll your eyes, but the knot in your chest loosens. ‘you’re stupid.’

‘nah, i just have common sense.’ he reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s the easiest thing in the world. ‘now, c’mon. let’s get you home.’

you don’t argue. you just squeeze his hand, let yourself lean into the warmth of him, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel ashamed.

Can you write a drabble/fic about Kenan coming to ask for your hand/your nikkah?

❦ - ‘and we created you in pairs.’

summary:: love is long, everyone knows but that’ll never stop kenan. your baba is a very stubborn man but kenan is always his favourite.

warnings:: none..?

writers note:: loving the islamic requests! i have another nikkah fic in my requests as well so i really hope you guys like it! and again ramadan mubarak 🤍. ‘and we created you in pairs.’ - al Qur’an 78:8.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

kenan had never been afraid of big moments.

he had played in front of thousands, taken penalties under pressure, carried his team when they needed him most. but standing outside your family’s home, palms damp and heart hammering in his chest, he felt something different. this wasn’t a match he could win with skill or speed. this was about sincerity, about proving himself in a way that no game ever could.

he inhaled deeply, exhaling a quiet bismillah before knocking on the door.

when your father answered, his expression was unreadable. kenan greeted him with a steady assalamu alaikum, the words feeling heavier than usual, like a bridge between where he stood and where he hoped to be.

your father stepped aside, letting him in without a word. kenan had been here before, but this time, everything felt different. the walls seemed taller, the space between the seats in the living room wider. your mother sat beside your father, her face softer, but still expectant.

he knew what they were waiting for.

so he sat with his back straight, hands resting on his knees, and met your father’s gaze.

‘i want to ask for her hand in marriage,’ he said, voice unwavering.

there was no point in hesitation. no point in dancing around it. he was here to be clear, to be honest, to ask for something he already knew in his heart was meant for him.

your father studied him, his silence pressing down on the room like a weight. then he leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.

‘why?’ he asked.

kenan had prepared for this, had thought of every possible way to explain how much he loved you, how much he respected you, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. but now, sitting here, words felt too small.

‘because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,’ he said, and the truth of it settled in his chest. ‘because she makes me a better man. because i want to build something real with her, something that pleases Allah, something that lasts. i want to protect her, support her, and never let her question how much she’s loved and valued.’

he didn’t look away. he let every word settle between them, let your father see the sincerity in his eyes.

your mother glanced at your father then, something unspoken passing between them. kenan caught the slight shift in your father’s posture, the way his fingers tapped against his knee as if weighing his next words.

‘this is a big responsibility,’ he finally said.

kenan nodded. ‘i know. and i’m ready for it.’

your father exhaled, long and slow. then he sat back, folding his arms. ‘a husband isn’t just someone who provides. he leads. he protects. he sacrifices. you say you’re ready, why do you believe that?’

kenan thought about all the things he could say. about how he had grown, how he had worked on himself, how he had prayed for this moment, for you. but instead, he spoke simply.

‘because loving her is easy. but making sure she’s loved the way she deserves, that’s the real work. and i’m willing to do it. every day.’

a silence stretched between them. it was your mother who smiled first, her expression warm, reassuring. your father was harder to read, his gaze sharp, searching. then, after what felt like forever, he gave a small, considering nod.

‘we’ll think about it.’

it wasn’t a yes.

but it wasn’t a no.

kenan let out a quiet breath, nodding in understanding. he knew this wasn’t something they would rush into. it wasn’t something they would take lightly. and he respected that, respected them for it.

but as he stepped out of your home, feeling the cool evening air on his face, he didn’t feel discouraged.

because he had taken the first step toward forever with you. and he would take as many as it took.

the days passed slowly. kenan kept himself busy, training, praying, waiting. he knew your family would take their time, that this wasn’t just about him but about their trust, their belief that he was the right man for you.

then, one evening, his phone buzzed.

a message from you.

come over. baba wants to talk.

he barely thought before moving, grabbing his keys, slipping on his shoes. his heart raced the whole way there, but his mind was calm. steady. whatever happened, he had put his heart on the table. that was all he could do.

when he arrived, your father was already waiting for him, sitting in the same spot as before. your mother was beside him, her expression unreadable. kenan greeted them both, sitting with the same quiet respect as last time.

your father exhaled, folding his hands together.

‘we’ve talked. we’ve thought about it. and we’ve prayed on it.’

kenan held his breath.

then

‘if she agrees, you have our blessing.’

relief hit him so hard he almost closed his eyes. he nodded, swallowing the sudden tightness in his throat.

‘thank you,’ he said, meaning it more than he could ever express. ‘thank you for trusting me with her.’

your father held his gaze, and for the first time, kenan saw it, the shift. the acceptance. the quiet approval behind his eyes.

and then, from the corner of the room, he heard soft footsteps.

he turned, and there you were.

standing in the doorway, eyes warm, a small smile playing on your lips.

his heart settled.

this was it.

this was the beginning of everything.

Hii do u write for Marc Bernal or the Fernandez cousins (Toni and Guille)?

I love ur writing btw <3

❦ - the best kind of trip.

summary:: it’s 2am after a long day and you and marc decide to go on a random road trip.

warnings:: uhhhh none?

writers note:: okay so this isn’t really a req but i wanted to write for him to i took the opportunity!

the city buzzed outside, alive with distant laughter and the hum of traffic, but inside the apartment, it was warm and quiet. the kind of quiet that settled between two people who didn’t need to fill the space with words. you sat curled up on the couch, wearing one of marc’s oversized sweatshirts, the sleeves swallowing your hands as you scrolled through your phone aimlessly. the clock on the wall ticked past midnight, and the space beside you felt too empty. he had texted hours ago: team dinner, i won’t be too late, but as the minutes stretched into hours, your mind began to wander.

it was after one when the front door finally creaked open. you looked up, relief washing over you as marc stepped in, hair tousled from the wind, cheeks flushed from the cold. his smile was soft, a little sheepish.

‘hey,’ he said, voice low. ‘sorry i’m late. things ran longer than i thought.’

‘i figured,’ you murmured, unfolding from your spot. you crossed the room and slipped your arms around his waist, holding him close. he smelled like the night air and the faint hint of his cologne, something familiar that eased the tension in your chest.

‘missed you,’ marc whispered into your hair, arms tightening around you.

‘missed you too,’ you replied, voice muffled against his jacket. pulling back slightly, you reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes. ‘you eat? i kept some food warm.’

he shook his head. ‘wasn’t really hungry. just wanted to come home.’

you smiled, fingers lingering against his cheek. ‘come on, let’s sit. you look exhausted.’

he let you lead him to the couch, flopping down beside you with a sigh. without thinking, you pulled a blanket over both of you, tucking it around his shoulders. he leaned into you, head resting on your shoulder as your fingers found his hair, combing through the dark strands.

‘these are my favorite nights,’ marc murmured, voice barely above a whisper. ‘just you and me. no noise, no cameras.’

‘mine too,’ you said softly. the television played something neither of you was really watching, casting flickering lights across the room. outside, rain began to patter against the windows, the soft sound filling the spaces between your breaths.

a comfortable silence stretched between you until marc spoke again. ‘wanna do something spontaneous?’

you glanced down at him, brow raised. ‘like what?’

he grinned, boyish and bright despite how tired he looked. ‘let’s go somewhere. right now. just get in the car and drive.’

you laughed, shaking your head. ‘marc, it’s two in the morning.’

‘that’s what makes it fun,’ he argued, sitting up. his eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘we don’t have to go far. just... get out of the city for a bit. clear our heads. what do you say?’

you hesitated, glancing toward the window where rain continued to fall in gentle waves. the idea was ridiculous, and yet, there was something irresistible about it. about him. ‘you’re impossible,’ you muttered.

‘but you love me,’ he shot back, grinning

‘unfortunately,’ you teased, grabbing your keys from the counter. ‘fine. but you’re driving.’

‘deal.’

twenty minutes later, you were in his car, the heater blasting as you sped down near-empty streets. marc rolled the windows down despite the chill, letting the rain-scented air whip through the cabin. you leaned back, watching city lights blur into streaks of gold and red. his hand found yours on the center console, fingers intertwining naturally.

‘this is crazy,’ you said over the music, wind tugging at your hair.

‘the best kind of crazy,’ marc replied, glancing at you with a grin that made your heart stutter.

you drove aimlessly, laughing as marc sang (badly) to old songs, stopping at a 24-hour gas station to load up on snacks. you found yourself giggling at the absurdity of it all, standing in a fluorescent-lit aisle at three a.m., marc holding up a bag of gummy bears like it was the greatest discovery of the night.

‘essentials,’ he said seriously

‘you’re a menace,’ you replied, tossing a bag of chips into the basket.

back in the car, you drove until the city fell away, replaced by dark roads winding through fields and trees. eventually, marc pulled over at a secluded spot overlooking a stretch of water, the surface rippling under the rain. he killed the engine, and for a moment, the world felt suspended, just the two of you in a bubble of quiet.

he got out first, grabbing the blanket from the backseat. ‘come on,’ he urged. you hesitated before following, shivering as the cool air bit at your skin. marc wrapped the blanket around both of you, pulling you close. your head rested against his shoulder as you looked out at the water, the sky beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn.

‘worth it?’ he asked softly.

you glanced at him, taking in the messy hair, the tired but content eyes. ‘yeah,’ you whispered. ‘worth it.’

he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. ‘told you.’

the sky bloomed with colors, pinks, oranges, soft purples, reflecting off the water in shimmering waves. marc held you tighter, his warmth seeping into you, grounding you in the moment. for a while, neither of you spoke, content to watch the world wake up around you.

‘this,’ he murmured after a long stretch of silence, ‘this is what life should be. just... us. no schedules. no pressure. just being.’

you nodded, heart swelling with affection. ‘i could stay like this forever.’

he chuckled. ‘careful, i might hold you to that.’

you tilted your head up to kiss him, slow and soft, the kind of kiss that spoke of quiet promises and late-night adventures. when you pulled back, his smile was lazy and content. ‘love you,’ he said.

‘love you more,’ you replied automatically.

‘impossible,’ he shot back, grinning.

the sun crested the horizon, bathing everything in warm, golden light. marc’s arms stayed wrapped around you as the world stretched out before you, vast and full of possibility. and in that moment, with his heartbeat steady under your palm and the future wide open, you believed that maybe, just maybe, you could stay there forever.

❦ - silent devotion.

summary:: quiet ramadan nights w kenan. ( @barcapix take notes habibi 💔.)

warnings:: uhh none!

writers note:: ramadan kareem to everyone who celebrates! may Allah make your fasts easy! my requests will be slower now that it’s ramadan i need to stay halal yk 💔. also do you guys call it suhoor or sehri bc i call it fothabala bc my dad is from bangladesh…? anyways enjoy 🤍!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp ; lmk if u wanna be added or removed!

you sat on the floor of the apartment, legs stretched out, back against the couch. the table was still cluttered with plates from iftar, but neither of you had bothered to clean up yet. the night felt slow, the air thick with the kind of quiet that only came after long days and empty stomachs.

kenan was next to you, his head tilted back against the cushions, a bottle of water resting loosely in his hand. his eyes were half lidded, exhausted but awake, the way he always was during ramadan. fasting didn’t seem to slow him down at training, but once he was home, you could see it, the weight of it, the way his body ached from pushing itself past hunger, past thirst, past exhaustion.

‘you should drink more water,’ you muttered, nudging his arm.

he huffed out a laugh but took another sip, just to prove a point. ‘you sound like my mother.’

‘well, she’s right.’ you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, watching as he rolled the bottle between his palms, lost in thought.

‘long day?’ you asked.

he nodded. ‘yeah. good, though. i felt sharp.’

you believed him. he never said much, never bragged, never complained. but you knew him well enough by now to hear what he wasn’t saying. the tiredness in his voice, the slight stiffness in his movements. the way he never admitted when it was too much.

‘stay up until suhoor?’ you asked.

he exhaled, considering it. ‘yeah. it’s easier that way.’

so you stayed. the two of you, sitting in the quiet, listening to the city hum outside. he tapped his fingers absently against the bottle, and you leaned your head back, letting the silence settle. neither of you needed to fill it.

ramadan nights always felt like this slow, heavy, still. but not lonely. never lonely.

i would never argue, never talk back, never raise my voice