↳ ❝ 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ❞ | footballers

˚˖✧ 𝐯𝐢𝐧í𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐣ú𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐫: 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 hums with life beyond the apartment's windows, Madrid bathed in a golden sunset, but inside, the world feels small and quiet—just you and Vinícius.

You're curled up on the couch, a book resting on your lap, though you've barely turned a page in the last ten minutes. Your thoughts are elsewhere, drifting in anticipation. He should be home by now.

As if summoned by your thoughts, the front door swings open with a soft click.

"Amor," Vinícius calls, stepping inside, voice warm like honey.

Your head snaps up, a smile forming before you even see him. He's in his training gear, his Real Madrid hoodie loose over his frame, the sheen of sweat on his skin making his hair stick to his forehead. His duffle bag thuds against the floor, and he barely takes a step before you're up, padding across the room toward him.

"You're late," you say, crossing your arms, but your teasing tone betrays the tiny ache in your chest from missing him.

His lips twitch into a grin as he steps closer, hands resting at your waist. "Traffic," he explains, dipping down so your faces are inches apart. "But I'm here now."

"Mmm, barely," you murmur, but before you can pretend to sulk any longer, he closes the space between you, kissing you slow and deep. His lips taste like mint gum, and his fingers squeeze at your hips, pulling you flush against him.

You sigh into the kiss, hands sliding into his curls, slightly damp from sweat. He groans at the contact, his grip tightening like he needs you closer, like he's been waiting for this moment all day.

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, breath warm on your lips. "Missed you," he whispers.

"You always say that."

"Because it's always true."

Your heart does an embarrassing little flip, but before you can let yourself get too soft, you pull back with a smirk. "Shower. You smell like the training ground."

Vinícius gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like you've wounded him. "Wow. So ungrateful."

You roll your eyes, already heading toward the kitchen. "Shower, Vini. Then we'll talk."

He watches you for a second, then—because he's him—he sprints after you, catching you around the waist before you can take another step. You let out a surprised squeal as he lifts you off the ground with ease.

"Vini!" you shriek, laughing as he spins you, your feet kicking in the air.

"Take it back," he demands, voice vibrating with amusement.

"Take what back?" you gasp between giggles, clinging to his shoulders.

"You love how I smell," he says confidently, nuzzling his face against your neck. "Admit it."

You let out another breathless laugh, trying to wiggle free. "Okay, okay! Maybe a little."

He sets you down, triumphant, then leans in close again, voice low. "Then you should be the one to shower with me."

Your breath catches slightly, but you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. "You're impossible."

But when he tugs your hand, his eyes soft and full of unspoken affection, you let him lead you toward the bathroom.

The bathroom is filled with steam, the warm water cascading down as you step inside together. Vinícius immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you close under the spray. The warmth of the water, combined with the heat of his skin, makes your heart race.

"You always find ways to keep me close," you murmur, tilting your head up to look at him.

His lips twitch into that familiar, boyish grin. "I don't like being away from you."

You reach for the shampoo, but before you can do anything, Vinícius takes it from your hands. "Let me," he says softly, squeezing some into his palm before running his fingers through your hair.

You close your eyes at the feeling, the gentle massage of his fingertips against your scalp making you melt. He works through your hair carefully, taking his time like he's savoring the moment.

"You're so spoiled," you murmur, voice drowsy with relaxation.

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You love it."

When he rinses the shampoo from your hair, his fingers trail down your back, his touch featherlight. He washes your shoulders next, then your arms, taking care of you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

Your heart swells as you watch him, as you feel the tenderness in his every movement.

"Your turn," you say, grabbing his shampoo.

He lowers his head slightly so you can work the lather into his curls, and you take your time, just as he did with you. He sighs in contentment, eyes fluttering shut.

"You should do this for me every day," he mumbles, leaning into your touch.

You laugh. "Maybe if you're nice."

"I'm always nice," he says, flashing you a sleepy smile.

You rinse his hair, letting your fingers comb through his damp curls, and when you're done, he leans in and kisses you—slow, unhurried, like there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

"All clean," you murmur against his lips.

"Yeah," he breathes, wrapping his arms around you once more. "But I think we should stay a little longer."

You laugh, but you don't argue. With him, there's no rush. No need to move when everything you need is right here.

Afterward, wrapped in fresh towels, you make your way to the kitchen while he flops onto the couch, still grinning like an idiot.

"You're in a good mood," you tease as you plate up the food you made earlier.

He stretches, looking completely at ease. "How could I not be? I have the best girlfriend in the world."

Your heart does that stupid flip again, but you roll your eyes. "Flattery won't get you extra food."

He gasps in betrayal. "I risked my life in training today!"

You snort. "Pretty sure you were just passing drills, Vini."

"Still. I deserve a reward."

You shake your head, but you can't fight your smile. You grab an extra spoonful of rice and place it on his plate before setting it down in front of him.

Vinícius beams. "See? You love me."

You sigh dramatically, but when he looks up at you, waiting for a response, your heart softens.

You lean down, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. "Yeah," you whisper. "I do."

His grin falters for just a second, something deep and raw flashing in his eyes before he pulls you down into his lap, arms tight around you.

"I love you more," he murmurs into your hair.

And sitting there, wrapped up in him, you know there's nowhere else you'd rather be.