Latest Posts by joaosnovia - Page 2

Hola chica 🤗

I have a request for you. Can your write for Pablo G. and the Reader ar going for a walk. Later they are in a Park and they hear some dog sounds. They found a small puppy that is hurt and they decided take him to a doctor and later Home and in the end its just cute because Pablo is a bite jealous of the dog ☺️

puppy love

pairing: pablo gavi x reader

summary: in which you and pablo find a little puppy in the park

warnings: none

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, lmk if you’d like to be added!

a/n: i hope you like it love! 💕

the sun had dipped low, spilling warm light through the trees as you and pablo wandered through the park hand in hand. his fingers were laced with yours, his thumb brushing soft circles against your skin—something he did when he felt peaceful. or when he didn’t want to let go.

you leaned into his side, feeling his warmth. “you’re quiet today.”

he gave you a tiny smile. “just happy, mi amor.”

“soft pablo is my favorite.”

“shh,” he whispered, grinning. “don’t ruin my reputation.”

you bumped his shoulder. “too late. you’re mine now.”

“always,” he said quietly, like a promise.

then a sound—soft and broken—cut through the stillness. a whimper.

you both stopped.

“did you hear that?” you asked, heart already tugging.

“yeah,” pablo said, alert now, scanning the path. “over there.”

you followed the noise together, and that’s when you saw him—curled under a bush, tiny and shaking. the little puppy looked terrified, his paw curled under him awkwardly.

“oh, pobrecito,” you breathed, already crouching.

pablo dropped beside you, voice gentle. “hey, chiquitín… it’s okay.”

he reached out slowly, scooping the puppy into his hoodie-covered arms. the little one whimpered, then buried himself into pablo’s chest like it was the safest place in the world.

“he trusts you,” you whispered, brushing dirt from the puppy’s fur.

pablo looked at the pup, then at you. “he’s ours now, right?”

“obviously.”

—

at the vet, the minutes ticked by slowly as you sat beside pablo, waiting for an update. he hadn’t stopped tapping his foot, his hand gripping yours tightly the whole time.

you leaned your head on his shoulder. “he’s gonna be okay.”

pablo nodded, jaw tight. “he has to be.”

when the vet finally came out and said it was just a sprain and some dehydration, he let out the softest breath of relief.

you looked up at him. “can we keep him?”

pablo hesitated, then smiled—small, but real. “yeah. we’ll take care of him.”

—

back at your apartment, the puppy was asleep in the corner, curled up on one of pablo’s hoodies. he looked clean, warm, and finally safe.

you sat nearby on the floor, petting him gently, while pablo sprawled on the couch, watching you with that quiet gaze he saved only for you.

“he needs a name,” you said softly.

“i’ve got the perfect one,” pablo said instantly. “messi.”

you turned to stare at him. “you’re joking.”

“i’m serious,” he grinned. “it’s a power move.”

“he drools when he sleeps.”

“okay, then… iniesta.”

you groaned. “amor.”

“what? it’s classy.”

you laughed and looked back at the puppy. “he looks like a milo.”

pablo made a face. “milo?”

“yeah. sweet. soft. adorable.”

he sighed. “fine. but i still think messi would’ve been iconic.”

you smiled, turning back to look at him. “you’re such a football nerd.”

“you love it.”

you didn’t answer—you just crawled off the floor and into his lap, settling there like you belonged (because you did). pablo instantly wrapped his arms around you, like he couldn’t help it, burying his face in your neck.

“you’re my favorite thing,” he murmured against your skin.

you pulled back just enough to kiss him—soft and slow. his hands stayed firm around your waist, like if he let go, the world might shift.

“i love you, mi vida,” you whispered.

he nodded, lips brushing your jaw. “i love you more.”

you stayed there in his lap, tangled together, until milo let out a tiny snore.

you glanced over. “he’s so cute.”

pablo groaned. “yeah. whatever.”

“you’re jealous again.”

“he’s literally snoring in my hoodie,” he muttered. “he’s trying to replace me.”

you grinned. “he’s a baby.”

“i’m your baby.”

“you’re both my babies,” you teased.

pablo narrowed his eyes. “he better not try to sleep between us.”

“you’d push him off the bed, wouldn’t you?”

“absolutely.”

you giggled, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “possessive much?”

he hugged you tighter. “only with you, mi amor.”

you looked over at the sleeping pup, then back at pablo, and your heart felt impossibly full.

your clingy boy and your sleepy puppy.

your perfect little chaos.

don’t forget to leave a request!

first fic i read when im taking a break from revision and now i’m bawling my eyes out

Until We Meet Again

Kenan Yildiz x Reader

The house was too quiet.

Not the peaceful kind, either. It was the kind of silence that rang in your ears, that pressed on your chest until breathing felt like a chore. The kind of silence that echoed, despite the toys still scattered across the living room. His little sneakers by the door. His tiny Juventus jersey draped over the back of the couch — the one with “Baba” and number 15 on the back.

Kay didn’t care that Kenan had changed numbers since. To him, his baba would always be number 15.

Kenan sat at the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. You stood behind him, fingers gripping the sleeve of his hoodie. The one Kay used to wrap around himself like a superhero cape, saying he was “Baba’s biggest fan.”

Kay Yıldız. Just five years old. Brave. Cheeky. So full of life. A warrior who fought harder than anyone should have to. But cancer didn’t care about innocence. It didn’t care that he was loved by an entire football club, or that the crowd used to cheer his name every time he ran onto the pitch with his father.

The funeral had been small. Quiet. Kenan didn’t want cameras. He didn’t want headlines.

Just Kay’s family.

And his Juventus family.

Federico Gatti brought a bouquet of white flowers — Kay’s favorite. Nicolò savona, who used to play FIFA with Kay after training, had cried into Kenan’s shoulder like a little brother. Weston left a small stuffed penguin by the casket — Kay had a collection of them. Dusan stood frozen for the longest time, face red, eyes wet, muttering “I’m so sorry” over and over. Manuel Locatelli didn’t let go of Kenan the whole day.

The next day, Juventus had a home game.

You didn’t want Kenan to go. You didn’t want to be alone. But you also knew Kay would’ve insisted on it. He loved watching his baba play. Even from the hospital bed, he’d hold up his toy whistle and scream, “Let’s go Juventus!” like he was in the Curva Sud himself.

The moment you stepped into the Allianz Stadium, you felt the shift. The whole place felt heavy — but united.

The team came out for warm-ups all wearing black shirts. On the back: KAY YILDIZ, and underneath, the number 15.

As the teams lined up, the announcer's voice echoed:

“Ladies and gentlemen, we ask that you join us in a minute of silence to honor the memory of Kay Yıldız, the young son of our player Kenan Yıldız — forever part of the Bianconeri family.”

Not a single sound.

No chants. No movement. No phones.

Just silence.

On the big screen, a photo appeared. Kay, standing on the touchline, black and white stripes painted on his cheeks, proudly holding a sign that read:

"Forza Baba!"

Kenan stared up at the image, jaw clenched, eyes glassy. The tears came when the silence ended and the Curva Sud unveiled a massive banner, hand-painted with Kay in his little Juventus kit, smiling wide, football in his hands.

“Our smallest warrior. Forever one of us.”

Kenan dropped to his knees.

Weston, Dusan, Nicolo — they surrounded him, arms around his shoulders, heads bowed. The referee didn’t rush. No one did.

When the whistle blew, Kenan stood and played like his soul was on fire.

In the 15th minute, the ball came to him at the edge of the box.

A single touch.

A strike.

Goal.

Kenan didn’t celebrate. He just pointed both arms to the sky, tears streaking his face.

The crowd didn’t scream.

They applauded.

You stood up, one hand pressed to your heart, the other wiping your cheeks. You whispered, “He saw that. I know he did.”

After the match, the team walked off arm-in-arm with Kenan. The club posted a photo of him kneeling after his goal, the admin behind the phone, captioned:

“Shine bright, Kay Yıldız. The sky has gained a star — and we’ve lost our bravest Bianconero.”

That night, Kenan sat beside you in Kay’s room. He picked up the little jersey off the bed — the one with “Yıldız 15” on the back — and said quietly:

“Did you feel him?”

You nodded. “He wouldn’t have missed it.”

This was Requested.🫶🏼

hi!! maybe a mutual friends to lovers musiala fic?? like just a very normal realistic storyline yk. they start by hanging out with a group of friends and then split off a little and blah blah blah 🩷🩷

❦ - ich liebe dich.

summary:: basically the req.

warnings:: none.

writers notes:: uhm so this should’ve been posted a month ago. this has been in my drafts for a MONTH bro. i’m gonna go insane this got requested to me almost 2 months ago and i’m lowkey going insane so yes i’ll be posting almost all my drafts today bc i have SO MANY finished. also i’m ditching dividers bc it’s too much work!

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the first time you met jamal musiala, he was just another face in a group of mutual friends. you’d heard his name before, knew who he was, but you had never actually spoken to him.

it was one of those casual get togethers, someone’s apartment, music playing from a speaker, people chatting in little groups, making half serious plans that never actually happened.

you weren’t even paying attention when he sat next to you.

‘so you’re the one everyone keeps talking about,’ he said, voice easy and amused.

you turned to him, raising a brow. ‘depends. what exactly are they saying?’

he smirked, leaning back. ‘good things. mostly.’

‘mostly?’ you echoed, pretending to be offended. ‘what’s the bad part, then?’

‘wouldn’t you like to know,’ he teased, eyes glinting.

and just like that, it was easy.

it started slow. natural.

he was just a friend, or at least, that was what you told yourself. but then you kept ending up next to each other. at dinner tables, in group chats, in the back of ubers on the way to places you both had been half-convinced you didn’t even want to go.

‘we keep ending up together,’ you pointed out once, laughing after realizing you’d somehow spent the entire night just talking to each other.

‘maybe it’s fate,’ he said, smiling.

‘or maybe it’s just coincidence.’

‘or,’ he countered, eyes warm, ‘you just like my company.’

you rolled your eyes, but you didn’t argue.

it didn’t feel like flirting. not in an obvious way.

but it also didn’t feel like just friendship either.

your friends picked up on it before you did.

‘so, you and jamal, huh?’ one of them asked after a night out.

you frowned. ‘what about us?’

‘oh, come on,’ they groaned. ‘you two practically spent the whole night in your own world.’

‘we were just talking.’

‘yeah, just talking while standing way too close and looking at each other like you’ve got some big secret the rest of us aren’t in on.’

you scoffed. ‘you’re imagining things.’

but were they?

the thing was, you and jamal never talked about whatever this was.

there were no confessions. no big oh, we like each other moment. just little shifts. small things that added up.

like the way he started texting you first more often.

or how he’d wait for you when you trailed behind the group.

or how he’d nudge your knee under the table, just lightly, when you made a joke he thought was particularly funny.

one night, it was just the two of you. you were coming back from a late dinner, walking through quiet streets, the rest of your friends having peeled off one by one.

‘you cold?’ jamal asked suddenly.

you shrugged. ‘a little.’

without a word, he pulled off his hoodie and handed it to you.

‘jamal—’

‘just take it,’ he said, smiling.

you hesitated for a second before slipping it over your head. it smelled like him, clean, warm, safe.

‘thanks,’ you murmured.

he looked down at you, something unreadable in his expression.

‘anytime.’

and that? that was when you knew.

it wasn’t just friendship anymore. maybe it never had been.

but for now, neither of you said anything.

you didn’t need to.

until the night he kissed you.

it wasn’t planned, wasn’t some big romantic moment.

it was after another group night out, when you and jamal had split off, walking together like always. it had started to rain, not heavy, just a soft drizzle, and you had laughed, tilting your head up at the sky.

‘this is kinda nice,’ you admitted.

jamal watched you, his hands in his pockets. ‘yeah. it is.’

you turned to him, still smiling, and that was when he did it.

just leaned in, soft and certain, catching your lips with his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you froze for a split second before melting into it, your hands gripping the front of his jacket.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours.

‘so much for coincidence, huh?’ he murmured.

you let out a breathless laugh. ‘yeah. so much for that.’

at first, nothing really changed.

you still hung out in the same group, still acted like just friends, except now, there were stolen glances, fingertips brushing when no one was looking, excuses to be alone.

‘you two are acting weird,’ one of your friends finally said.

‘what? no, we’re not,’ you denied quickly.

‘you totally are,’ they insisted, pointing between you and jamal. ‘there’s something going on.’

jamal, beside you, just smirked.

‘if you say so,’ he said, casually slipping an arm around your shoulders.

and at that moment, you knew there was no point in pretending anymore.

being with jamal musiala felt easy.

it wasn’t all-consuming or dramatic. it didn’t burn out fast or make you question where you stood.

it was steady. warm. like something you had slipped into without realizing you were always meant to be there.

it was the way he texted you good morning every day, even if he had training early.

the way he always reached for your hand first, fingers threading through yours like second nature.

the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

‘you’re staring,’ you pointed out once, grinning.

jamal just shrugged. ‘can you blame me?’

the first time he told you he loved you, it was quiet. casual, almost.

you were half-asleep on his couch, curled up against his side while some movie neither of you had been paying attention to played in the background.

his fingers traced absentminded circles on your arm.

‘love you,’ he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

your eyes fluttered open, heart skipping a beat.

you shifted to look up at him. ‘what?’

jamal looked down at you, completely unbothered. ‘i said, i love you.’

your breath caught in your throat.

he didn’t seem nervous about it. didn’t seem like he was expecting some big reaction. he was just telling you. stating a fact.

and somehow, that made it even more real.

you swallowed, voice soft when you finally spoke.

‘love you too.’

his smile was slow, warm, sure.

‘figured.’

and just like that, it wasn’t just unspoken anymore.

it was real. it was everything.

i am SICK of my user but idk if i shoudk change it bcc im lowkey a hypocrite bc i silently judge people w users like mine but in english

Love && war part 4 pleaseeeeee

hi amore! i’m working on it pls bare w me ik we’re in a drought but i have to balance it w my revision and i don’t go on study leave till may 💔.

MAMA MIA DIOS MIOS MADRE MIA 😍

Hey love!

I was wondering if you could write something for Max Verstappen with a super soft, quiet little girlfriend? She’s a chunky little thing, all round and cute, with blonde hair, and she’s just very… pink. Everything about her is soft and feminine—her clothes, her nails, even the way she speaks. She’s also a little dumb (in the most adorable way possible), always getting confused about things, and Max just finds it endearing. Maybe some fluff where he’s super protective over her because people underestimate her a lot? Thank you so much!

Softer than Sakura~Max Verstappen

・❥・prompt list

・❥・motorsports masterlist

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: this HAS to be my fav fic EVER. I love max sm yall don't understand. pls don't let it flop 🙏🏻🙏🏻

She was the total opposite of Max. Opposites attract, they say. Max, the serious, sarcastic Formula One champion, dating her; the short, blonde girl whose whole life was pink and ribbons.

But Max found everything about her so endearing.

The way she got confused over the smallest things, the random questions she asked out of nowhere, and mostly, the way she managed to be the most adorable person when he asked her to go to her first Grand Prix with him: to Japan.

“Well, everything is pink, and it’s all flowers and stuff there. I think you'll like it,” he said softly, his smile unwavering when she jumped up and down before climbing on him.

“Oh my god, yes! I have the perfect outfit for race day. Should I do my nails too? When are we going? Do I have time to pack?” she rambled, unable to hide her excitement, and also nervousness.

Max chuckled, putting his finger on her lips to stop her from talking.

“Don’t worry, schatje. I already booked your nail appointment. We’re leaving Tuesday morning, so you have plenty of time to pack,” he mumbled before brushing his lips over hers.

Max took his headphones off as his engineer finished telling him the new updates on the car. His eyes scanned the garage slowly until they found her.

She stood by the corner, carefully reading the schedule on the paper that was on the wall. The pink ribbon sat perfectly in her blonde hair, while her hands clutched her small bag tightly.

He smiled softly before quietly making his way to her. He sneaked his hands around her waist gently, which made her flinch for a second before relaxing in his arms.

“Maxie,” she mumbled, her eyes still fixed on the paper, her head tilting in confusion.

“Hey, baby,” his fingers brushed against her pink dress as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I’m confused,” she stated, turning to look up at him. “The schedule says you have media duty from ten till twelve. It’s eleven-thirty now. Are you breaking the rules?” she gasped softly, her voice lowering as if afraid someone might hear her.

Max chuckled, his heart melting at the pure confusion in her expression.

“No, darling. I finished early and had some stuff with the engineers,” he said, making her lips part as realization dawned on her.

“Let’s get you seated in the garage before qualifying,” he gently tugged her hand as he took her to the back of the garage where families and guests usually sat. He helped her up on the stool before handing her one of the big blue headphones.

“For me?” she asked, confused, making him hum.

“It can get loud, so you’ll need it,” he placed it on her neck before brushing her hair away from her face to admire her soft makeup that she always did—the one he always adored.

“But it doesn’t match my outfit,” she frowned, making him laugh with a shake of his head.

“Sweetheart, the sounds are pretty loud. You need it,” he insisted, making her frown deepen even more. He smiled before leaning down to kiss her pout away.

As soon as his lips touched hers, she quickly gasped and pulled away.

“Someone could see us,” she whispered, making him pout.

“Just one?” he asked, leaning in again. He kissed her softly, and she couldn't help but kiss him back.

When he pulled back, he hummed in satisfaction. She opened her eyes and giggled at the sight of him.

“What?” he asked, an amused smile on his lips.

“You’ve got some lip gloss on your lips,” she murmured, reaching over to wipe it off with her thumb.

“Do I look pretty?” he teased while she hummed.

“You always look pretty,” she whispered shyly, making him smile.

“Only because I have you by my side.”

“Hey, where's my girlfriend?” Max asked one of the mechanics, who he saw a while ago talking to her.

“They told her to go to your driver's room after quali. She was asking way too many questions,” he chuckled, expecting Max to laugh with him, except he didn’t. Max scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yeah? So what? This is her first race and she's still new to everything here,” he said defensively, eyes narrowing as the mechanic started squirming nervously under his intense gaze.

“I-I didn’t mean-” Max interrupted by rolling his eyes.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, already walking away to his room.

He opened the door gently, peeking his head into the room slowly. He saw her sitting there, his plushie, which she had bought him, tucked under her chin while she scrolled through her phone silently.

“Hey baby,” he said softly, afraid to scare her away.

“Hi Maxie,” she mumbled, her voice a bit down and softer than usual, the usual bubbly and excited tone not evident.

His face twisted in anger, knowing that she was upset by something someone had told her.

“What did they say?” he asked calmly, but his fists clenched by his sides as he walked closer to her.

“Mhm, who?” she avoided looking into his eyes, still scrolling on her phone.

Max took the phone gently out of her hand to have her look at him. Her eyes were dull, the usual light in them faded out.

“What did they say?” he asked again, this time more gently.

“Nothing… they just said that I should come here because they can’t stand someone asking so many stupid questions,” she shrugged, but her teary eyes showed how much she was affected.

“Oh darling,” he murmured, pulling her into a hug as he sat next to her. He tucked her head under his chin, securing it by holding the back of her head. His other hand soothed her back, mumbling sweet nothings into her ear to help her calm down.

After a while, her body relaxed more and she let out a sigh into his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her arms tightening around his torso.

“Don’t be, schatje. They’re assholes who don’t deserve to listen to anything you say. If you have anything to ask, I’ll gladly answer you, even if it was the silliest question,” he said, pulling her head back to look at her.

“I love you,” he held her gaze, his fingers threading through her blonde strands as he spoke.

“I love you more, Maxie,” she said, her smile finally finding its way back to her face.

He held her more in his arms, watching some TikToks with her on her phone, ignoring the fact that he had already skipped two interviews.

She pulled away then, making him look at her, confused.

“So... what does DRS mean?” she asked sheepishly, making him chuckle.

“I’ll tell you everything. Just let me hold you some more, sweetheart.”

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

might as well slap me and tell me i’m the slowest person on earth w that joao request!

right so i’ll be the SECOND person to request and i think a joao fic where reader does her skincare routine infront of him and since he’s so damn extra he wants to do it too but like make him a diva yk 💔.

I LOVE YOUUUU - xoxo saira 🤍.

skincare

pairing: joão felix x reader

summary: in which joão sees your skincare and immediately wants to try it

warnings: none

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

a/n: girl ilysm, i hope you like this 💗💗

the evening had settled in, the soft glow of the bathroom light casting a peaceful aura around the space. you had just come back from a long day, and as always, you decided to unwind with your skincare routine. you hummed quietly to yourself as you gathered the bottles and jars, carefully placing them on the counter.

your face mask was next, and you were enjoying the simple ritual of it all—there was something incredibly soothing about taking this time for yourself, even if the world outside was chaotic. you’d been doing it for weeks now, and it had become a part of your nightly routine.

just as you were about to smooth the thick, creamy mask onto your face, you heard the familiar sound of footsteps behind you. you turned slightly, noticing joão standing in the doorway, his usual charming grin on his face as he crossed his arms and leaned against the frame.

“what’s all this?” joão asked, eyeing the assortment of skincare products on the counter. “you really going all in tonight?”

you chuckled softly, looking at him in the mirror. “yeah, just my nightly self-care. it helps me relax. you should try it sometime,” you said with a playful glint in your eye, not expecting him to take you seriously.

he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the suggestion. “me? try skincare? you’ve got to be kidding.”

you shot him a teasing glance. “why not? it’s good for your skin. plus, it might make you feel a little less like a footballer and a little more like… well, a human.”

joão laughed, a deep, hearty sound that made you smile. “i’m not sure i need it. but… alright, show me what you’re doing. maybe i’ll give it a go.”

you turned to face him with a raised eyebrow. “are you serious?”

he shrugged dramatically. “you know, maybe this will be my secret weapon. could be the next big thing—joão félix, skincare icon.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. “okay, okay. i’ll guide you. but you have to follow my steps, no shortcuts. trust me, your skin will thank you.”

he crossed the room and stood next to you, looking at the bottles lined up on the counter. “alright, so what’s first? do i just… rub my face with this?” he asked, pointing at the cleanser.

you laughed at his curiosity. “not quite. first, you have to splash your face with water to get it a little damp. then, you’ll take a bit of this cleanser and—”

he was already splashing water all over his face before you could finish your sentence, completely drenched. you blinked at him, wide-eyed.

“well,” you said, trying to suppress your giggles, “that’s one way to do it. now, just a little cleanser. not too much!”

he squirted a generous amount into his hand, and without thinking, he rubbed it into his face with the intensity of someone tackling a new opponent. you stood back, laughing at how serious he was taking it.

“joão, you look like you’re preparing for a match,” you teased, wiping away a stray drop of water from your cheek.

he paused for a moment, glancing at you through the mirror with a smirk. “maybe i am. can’t go into this skincare game half-hearted.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a grin. “alright, rinse it off now, mister skincare expert.”

as he rinsed his face, he looked at you, his expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “i don’t know about this… i feel like i just dunked my head in a bowl of soup.”

“that’s what you get for rushing,” you said, wiping off a small splatter of water on your arm. “take your time, joão. skincare isn’t a race.”

“well, i’d win that race, hands down,” he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes.

you handed him a bottle of toner and explained, “now, you need this to balance your skin. dab it on with a cotton pad, don’t wipe it.”

he stared at the cotton pad in his hand like it was some kind of foreign object. “this looks… too delicate. do you really think i can pull this off?”

you laughed softly, watching him concentrate so hard on doing it right. “of course you can. just be gentle, like you’re petting a cat.”

he looked at you like you were speaking another language. “petting a cat? what does that even mean?”

“just—never mind,” you giggled. “just dab it on your face.”

finally, after what felt like an eternity, joão managed to do the toner step, looking quite proud of himself. “alright, what’s next? i think i’m getting the hang of this.”

“next up is moisturizer. it’s the most important part. you’ve got to lock in all that hydration.”

he scooped out a hefty dollop of cream, and without hesitation, started slathering it all over his face, making exaggerated motions with his hands. you couldn’t help but laugh at how much he was using.

“joão! that’s way too much! you only need a little.”

he looked at you, his face now a greasy mess of product, and smirked. “i’m making sure i get every spot. you never know where dryness might sneak up.”

you shook your head fondly, trying not to burst out laughing. “okay, but now you’re going to look like you’re about to slide off the couch. less is more, joão.”

he pouted dramatically and looked at his reflection in the mirror. “i’m pretty sure i’m glowing, right?”

you walked up behind him, looking at his face, which now had a shiny, almost comical layer of moisturizer. “you’re glowing, alright,” you teased, “but i think you might need to tone it down for tomorrow’s match.”

he laughed, turning to face you with that mischievous grin of his. “i’m doing this every night from now on. you’ve unlocked a new side of me.”

you shook your head, still laughing. “well, i hope you don’t expect me to apply it for you every night. skincare is a solo mission, my friend.”

joão leaned in, a little too close for comfort, still grinning like he had won something. “how about a weekly skincare date, then? you and me, making each other glow?”

you smiled, shaking your head fondly. “you’re ridiculous, but fine. only if you promise not to use the entire jar of moisturizer next time.”

“i can’t make that promise,” he said, his tone teasing, “but i’ll try my best.”

as he turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of his face—his skin actually looked better, less tired, and definitely more radiant. maybe joão félix, skincare icon, was a title that fit him better than you thought.

“good night, skincare guru,” you called after him.

“good night, my skincare coach,” he shot back, with a wink. “same time tomorrow?”

you laughed, shaking your head again. “maybe not tomorrow, but i’m sure we’ll make time for it again soon.”

and with that, joão left the bathroom, leaving behind a trail of laughter and the faint scent of his newfound skincare obsession lingering in the air.

Hiii! I have a joão request, this may be a little too out there but if you’re comfortable enough with writing ab joão and the reader having a one night and end up with an accidental pregnancy?

❦ - ours.

summary:: nothing really goes to plan. and your offspring definitely wasn’t a plan either.

warnings:: implies previous activities… ones that i can’t write bc im not of age but yk!

writers notes:: anyways so like i made the lovely @cherryloveshs do the moodboards for this fic and for some reason the only context i gave her was ‘joao didn’t wrap before he tapped’ so this fic is a surprise for her 💔. IF YOU WANT A PART 2, MY REQS ARE OPEN FOR THAT

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

it was supposed to be a one time thing.

you told yourself that the morning after, when you slipped out of his apartment before the sun had fully risen. you told yourself that again two weeks later, when your chest felt tight every time you thought about him.

you weren’t dating. it was never serious. it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

but then you missed your period.

then the nausea started.

then the two pink lines stared back at you.

you sat on your bathroom floor, test in hand, heart racing so loud you could barely hear your own thoughts.

pregnant.

with joão’s baby.

you didn’t even know how to tell him. he was focused on his career, training, matches, traveling constantly. you hadn’t even spoken since that night. a few texts here and there. polite. short. distant.

but this? this wasn’t something you could hide.

so you texted him.

can we talk?

his response was almost immediate.

of course. you okay?

you stared at the screen for a long time before replying.

not really. can you come over?

he showed up at your door half an hour later, hoodie pulled over his head, hair slightly messy like he’d rushed straight out.

‘hey,’ he said, eyes scanning your face like he was already worried. ‘what’s going on?’

you stepped aside and let him in, your hands trembling slightly. he noticed, of course he did.

‘you’re freaking me out,’ he said gently. ‘what is it?’

you sat down on the edge of the couch, trying to steady your voice.

‘i don’t really know how to say this,’ you started. ‘but… i’m pregnant.’

he blinked. once. twice.

you watched as the words settled in, slow but heavy.

‘what?’ he asked, voice quiet. not in disbelief, just trying to make sure he heard you right.

‘i’m pregnant, joão. it’s yours. from that night.’

he sat down across from you, elbows on his knees, hands folded tightly.

‘okay,’ he said. just that. no anger, no denial. just calm acceptance.

‘okay?’ you echoed, confused. ‘you’re not… mad?’

‘no,’ he said, meeting your eyes. ‘scared? yeah. shocked? yeah. but not mad.’

you swallowed. ‘i didn’t plan this. i swear, i wasn’t trying to trap you or anything—’

‘hey,’ he interrupted gently, scooting closer. ‘i know. and neither of us planned it. but that doesn’t mean i’m walking away.’

you blinked, tears stinging your eyes.

‘you’re not?’

‘of course not,’ he said, reaching for your hand. ‘it might’ve been a one-night thing, but you’re not just some girl to me. and this—’ he gently touched your stomach, ‘—this is ours. we’ll figure it out together.’

you looked at him, really looked at him. the way his jaw was set like he was already taking responsibility. the worry in his eyes, but also something softer.

something kind. something real.

‘i don’t want to do this alone,’ you whispered.

‘you won’t,’ he promised. ‘i’m here. for you and the baby. every step of the way.’

and when he pulled you into a hug, warm and steady and safe, you believed him.

because maybe it wasn’t how things were supposed to happen. but maybe, just maybe, it was how they were meant to.

it had been three weeks since you told joão.

and in those three weeks, he hadn’t missed a single doctor’s appointment.

he texted you every morning ‘how are you feeling today?’ and every night ‘do you need anything?.’ he read every article, asked questions about everything, and kept showing up with random things like ginger tea, prenatal vitamins, and the softest blanket you’d ever felt.

he wasn’t just present. he was trying.

but still, it was complicated.

you weren’t together. there were feelings, sure, lingering glances, quiet comfort, a weird kind of softness that had always existed between you, but neither of you had said anything about what this all meant.

so you existed in this weird space. almost something. not quite.

and that space felt even smaller one evening when he showed up at your apartment, carrying a small bag of groceries in one hand and a folded piece of paper in the other.

‘brought snacks,’ he said casually, walking in like it had always been his place to.

‘you don’t have to keep doing this,’ you told him, even though you didn’t mean it.

he raised an eyebrow. ‘you say that, but i know you’re running low on those strawberry ice cream bars.’

you blinked. ‘how do you know that?’

‘you texted me yesterday at 2 a.m. “strawberry. gone. sadness.”’

you snorted. ‘okay, fair.’

he grinned, dropping the bag on the counter before holding out the folded paper.

‘what’s this?’

‘list of baby names,’ he said, casually like he hadn’t just handed you the thing that sent your heart into orbit.

you opened it slowly.

some names were simple. a few were portuguese. some were… definitely football inspired.

‘did you really put “ronaldo” on here?’ you asked.

‘just for fun,’ he said, already smirking. ‘but i put your last name first. figured the baby should have both.’

you went quiet at that, the weight of it hitting you in a way that words couldn’t quite carry.

‘joão…’

he turned serious almost instantly, stepping closer, his voice quieter now.

‘i know it’s not what we planned,’ he said. ‘i know we weren’t supposed to end up here. but we are. and i don’t want to just… be the guy who shows up every now and then. i want to be there. really be there.’

your heart thudded in your chest.

‘are you saying that just for the baby?’ you asked, voice small.

he hesitated for half a second.

then, softly: ‘no. i’m saying that because of you.’

you looked up, eyes meeting his. and in that moment, it wasn’t confusing anymore. it wasn’t just fear or responsibility or doing the right thing.

it was real.

‘i want to try,’ he said. ‘not just to be a dad. but with you. if you’ll let me.’

and suddenly, the weird in-between space you’d been living in didn’t feel so cold or lonely anymore.

you nodded slowly, heart full.

‘okay,’ you whispered. ‘we try.’

and when he pulled you into his arms, hands gentle over the curve of your still-flat stomach, it felt like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the wrong timing.

maybe it was just the beginning

Hiii!!! I love your João fics smmm 💖💖 and I got some inspiration from the Gavi x tennis player! Reader, I was wondering if I can make a request for a similar one with joão but instead of the reader being tennis player, could it be volleyball player?

So basically joão decides to attend his girlfriends (reader) game since he had a day off-and reader is a libero where she always haves to defend and always having to jump onto the floor to defend the ball from hitting the floor.

How about the opponents spiker hits the ball slightly farther away but she stills needs to catch the ball to throw it back to her teammates to manage to get a point for them but she accidentally crashes into like the court banners or maybe a table surrounding the volleyball court and like joão is scared and worried for his gf but at the end she was fine and just a sprain wrist and ankle? And he's lowk overprotective after the game

Hopefully the plot makes sense for you😭

❦ - in a good way.

summary:: what the req says.

warnings:: i wrote this half asleep

writers notes:: i should sleep. but i love yall and watch as i drop this and then disappear for a week 💔.

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

joão wasn’t supposed to be here.

his schedule was packed, as always, but for once, fate had given him a rare day off. and the moment he realized it lined up perfectly with one of your games, there was no question, he was going.

so here he was, sitting courtside, cap pulled low over his head, completely locked in on the match.

he’d seen you play before, of course. he knew how talented you were, how much work you put into your game. but watching you in person? feeling the energy of the match, hearing the squeak of your shoes on the court, seeing you throw yourself into every single play, it was different.

it was exhilarating. and terrifying.

because as a libero, you never stopped moving. you were constantly sprinting, diving, launching yourself across the floor to save impossible balls. every time you hit the ground, joão flinched. every time you threw your body in harm’s way, his heart nearly stopped.

‘does she always do that?’ he muttered to one of your teammates who was sitting on the bench.

she barely looked up from watching the game. ‘she’s a libero. she kinda has to.’

joão frowned. he knew that. logically, he understood that this was your job, just like football was his. but that didn’t mean he had to like watching you hit the floor over and over again.

but then, the match got even more intense.

it was the final set, tied at 24-24. one team had to win by two, and everyone was playing like their lives depended on it.

joão watched as the opposing team’s outside hitter, easily the tallest girl on the court, jumped up for a brutal spike, aiming for the back corner.

and then he saw you move.

you were already sprinting before the ball even made contact.

his stomach twisted. he knew that look in your eyes.

you weren’t going to let it drop.

and you didn’t.

you dove, arms outstretched, fingers grazing the ball just in time to send it flying back toward your teammates.

but the momentum carried you too far.

instead of landing safely on the floor, you crashed straight into the court barriers.

joão shot to his feet, his heart slamming against his ribs.

the sound of your body hitting the plastic barricades and knocking over a small table made his stomach churn. you hit the floor hard, and for a second, you didn’t move.

his entire body went cold.

the gym fell silent.

then, before he could even process what was happening, your teammates were surrounding you, the medical staff rushing over.

joão’s hands clenched at his sides as he forced himself to stay where he was. he wanted nothing more than to run onto the court, to push past everyone and check on you himself. but he wasn’t allowed to.

he held his breath, waiting, his pulse hammering in his ears.

and then

you sat up.

joão exhaled so sharply it almost felt like he’d been holding his breath for hours.

the relief that crashed over him was instant, but it didn’t completely settle until he saw you carefully flex your fingers, rolling your wrist with a slight wince.

a sprain. maybe your ankle too, judging by the way you hesitated when your teammates helped you up.

but you were okay.

and despite everything, despite the fact that you had just thrown yourself straight into a table, your team managed to win the point.

and then the game.

but joão didn’t care about the score. not really. the only thing he cared about was getting to you.

so the second the final whistle blew, he was moving.

he pushed past the crowd, barely hearing the people congratulating him on his own recent games, barely acknowledging the fans who recognized him.

all he could focus on was you.

you were sitting on the bench, your ankle wrapped, your wrist wrapped, casually chatting with your coach like you hadn’t just nearly given him a heart attack.

‘what the hell was that?’ he blurted out, startling you slightly.

your head snapped up, eyes widening in surprise. ‘joão—’

‘why would you even go for that ball?’ he continued, running a hand through his hair, clearly still panicked. ‘you could’ve been seriously hurt!’

you blinked at him, processing his words before a small, amused smile tugged at your lips. ‘we won the point, didn’t we?’

he stared at you like you were insane. ‘winning isn’t worth getting hurt.’

you sighed, shaking your head fondly before reaching out with your good hand, grabbing the front of his hoodie and tugging him closer. ‘it is to me.’

he exhaled sharply, but he didn’t pull away. instead, he let himself sink down in front of you, his hands hovering like he wanted to touch you but was afraid of making anything worse.

‘you’re impossible,’ he muttered, his voice softer now, but still frustrated.

‘you love me.’

he sighed, dropping his forehead against your uninjured shoulder. ‘unfortunately for me, yeah.’

you laughed, wrapping your arm around him and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. ‘i’m fine, joão.’

‘you have a sprained wrist and ankle,’ he grumbled.

‘but i’m okay,’ you reassured him, squeezing his hoodie gently.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes scanning your face, like he needed to make sure you were really telling the truth.

then, after a beat, he exhaled and stood up.

‘okay. come on.’

before you could react, he scooped you up into his arms.

you yelped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. ‘joão!’

‘nope. you’re not walking on that ankle,’ he said firmly, adjusting you so you were comfortably nestled against his chest. ‘i’ve decided you’re not allowed to move at all until you’re healed.’

you huffed, crossing your arms. ‘you’re being ridiculous.’

‘you’re reckless,’ he shot back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘but lucky for you, i love you anyway.’

you sighed dramatically, but you couldn’t help the way your heart melted when he tightened his arms around you.

‘guess i should get injured more often,’ you teased.

he shot you a warning look. ‘don’t even joke about that.’

you grinned, resting your head against his shoulder.

maybe he was being overprotective. maybe he was being dramatic.

but you weren’t complaining.

Hii. Could you write a fic abt João and the reader talking about babies/the future and him proposing?🩷

❦ - my kind of man.

summary:: what the req says.

warnings:: none!

writers notes:: so. first of all i’m sorry for ghosting bc i lowkey got carried away w the tons of requests ive gotten and school is also an issue so i dropped this not so much of a banger. ALSO JOAO MAN FIX UR PHOTOS BC HE JS LOOKS STUPID IN MY BEIGE SCHEME

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

it happens on a quiet evening, just the two of you walking along the beach. the sun has long since dipped below the horizon, leaving only the soft glow of the moon and the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

joão’s hand is warm in yours, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin. it’s a habit of his, one you’ve grown to love, the way he always finds some way to touch you, as if making sure you’re really there.

the night air is cool, salty, but comfortable. the world feels still, like it belongs only to the two of you in this moment.

then, out of nowhere, he says, ‘do you ever think about the future?’

you glance up at him, catching the way his gaze lingers on the ocean, thoughtful. ‘what do you mean?’

he exhales softly, as if choosing his words carefully. ‘just… us. where we’ll be in a few years. what life will look like.’

your steps slow slightly as you take in the question. it’s not that you haven’t thought about it, you have, more times than you can count. you just didn’t know he had too.

‘yeah,’ you admit, squeezing his hand. ‘i think about it sometimes.’

his lips twitch into a small smile, like that was the answer he was hoping for.

you both keep walking, the water lapping at your feet, until he speaks again. ‘do you ever think about kids?’

you freeze for just a second, not because you’re caught off guard, but because the thought of it, the thought of him with a child, of a tiny hand gripping his, of his laugh filling a home that belongs to both of you, is enough to steal your breath.

you look up at him, searching his face for hesitation, but there’s none. just quiet patience, quiet hope.

‘yeah,’ you say softly. ‘i do.’

his smile grows, slow and sure. ‘me too. all the time.’

his voice is steady, sure, but there’s something deeper in it, something tender. ‘i think about how good you’d be with them,’ he continues. ‘how i’d love to see you as a mum.’

your chest tightens at the thought. ‘you’d be a great dad,’ you whisper. ‘they’d be so lucky.’

he stops walking then, turning to face you fully. the waves roll in, barely brushing against your toes, but you barely notice.

‘we’d be lucky,’ he murmurs.

his hand slips from yours, and for a split second, your heart drops.

then, he reaches into his pocket.

your breath catches.

‘joão—’

‘i was gonna wait,’ he says quickly, almost like he’s nervous. ‘i had this whole plan. something big, something special. but… i don’t think i can anymore.’

he exhales, like he’s steadying himself, then pulls out a small velvet box.

the world tilts.

the ring inside is simple but beautiful, exactly what you would’ve wanted. and suddenly, everything clicks, the way he’s been acting lately, the lingering looks, the quiet moments where he seemed lost in thought.

‘i love you,’ he says, his voice steady now. ‘and i don’t want to wait for that future. i want it to start now.’

tears well in your eyes, your chest full, and you nod before you even find your voice.

‘yes,’ you whisper. then, stronger, ‘yes. of course, yes.’

his relief is visible, his whole body relaxing as he slides the ring onto your finger. it fits perfectly.

then he’s kissing you, his hands framing your face, soft and sure.

and for the first time, the future doesn’t feel so far away.

it’s here. it’s real. and it’s yours.

If you get a star ⭐️ in your inbox. It means your moot appreciates you, and your efforts in the community. Send this to 10 mutuals to continue the love! <3

I LOOOOVE YOU ok bai 🙏.

If you get a star ⭐️ in your inbox. It means your moot appreciates you, and your efforts in the community. Send this to 10 mutuals to continue the love! <3

whichever moot this is i love you forever (there’s not many options bc i have like 5 moots)

Hey princess!! Could you add me to your taglist, pls ? 💓

yes amore, idk why i didn’t reply to this but if ill add u to general but if u wanna be apart of a specific one pls lmk xx

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. Spread the self-love! 💕💕💕💕❤️

hi queens i’m tryna clear my inbox so here we are and EID MUBARAK TO MY OTHER MUSLIMS 🙏

anyways here we are queens / kings / its 🥰

love && war part 2. - pablo gavi.

amore a milan. - joao felix. (I LOVE THIS SM.)

moonlight. - hector fort.

‘and we created you in pairs’. - kenan yildiz.

playing for keeps. - toni fernandez. (i forgot ab this.)

OKAY HERE ARE MY TOP 5 WRITERS (not in order bc i can’t choose for the life of me)

@barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @hollyf1 (ik ur not really that much of a fic writer but u never fail to make me laugh)

no but where’s dorothea @barcapix

nothing scarier than being a fan of a fic and then becoming mutuals with the author. like hi shakespeare. big fan of your fake dating au

Is there coming a part two of love && war?

Pleaseeeee

hiii yes there’s gonna be a 4th part but i have like 20+ requests to get thru and i also have been revising so im really sorry! i’ll try and get them done tho xx

hi guys! i js wanted to come and apologise for how long these fics are taking me and ik people can get impatient! and this is also the reason why i keep my fics around 1k solely bc im a gcse student who also needs to do revision. brainstorming, revising, drafting and writing fics is all very time consuming and for some 20+ requests aren’t a lot but for me it is! i love and appreciate every request i get because yall can be so creative! but especially with the longer ones they can take a lot longer. i’m ofc not gonna close my requests but i’m putting it out here that mine will take a lot longer! xx

OMG we need a part 3 of the Gavi x tennis reader fic

❦ - love && war 3.

summary:: winning isn’t everything. whether it’s on or off the pitch and that’s something you’ve realised.

warnings:: none.

writers notes:: guys i wanna sob this is really basic, repetitive and idk what to do for the plot but if yg want a part 4 i can do one where he ACTUALLY attends a match bc bros suffering by hearing the match from pedris pov 💔.

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

the first thing you did after leaving the court was check your phone. sweat still clung to your skin, muscles aching from the three set battle you had just fought, but none of that mattered as much as the missed notifications lighting up your screen.

pablo: been refreshing the score like crazy, how did it go?
pablo: mi amor?
pablo: please tell me you won
pablo: shit, did you lose?
pablo: call me as soon as you can, okay?

your heart sank a little as you read his texts. you hated how badly he wanted to be there, how helpless he felt watching the live score update from miles away.

you sighed, quickly typing back.

you: lost in three. close, but not enough.

he read the message almost instantly. the typing bubbles appeared, then stopped. then appeared again.

your phone rang.

you stepped away from the locker room, walking into a quieter hallway before answering.

‘cariño,’ gavi’s voice was soft, but you could hear the frustration underneath. ‘tell me what happened.’

you leaned against the wall, exhaling. ‘she just played better. i had chances, but i didn’t take them. that’s it.’

‘that’s not it,’ he muttered. ‘i know you. i know you’re beating yourself up over every point.’

you closed your eyes for a moment. he wasn’t wrong.

‘i just, i really wanted this one, pablo. and i know i played well, but at the end of the day, i lost. and that’s all anyone will remember.’

‘that’s not true,’ he said instantly. ‘you were amazing. i didn’t even have to watch the match to know that. but it pisses me off that i couldn’t watch. i should’ve been there.’

‘pablo—’

‘i mean it,’ he cut you off, frustration creeping into his voice. ‘pedri was literally sitting on his ass watching the whole thing while i was stuck playing a match i barely cared about because all i wanted to do was check my phone for updates.’

you let out a small laugh despite yourself. ‘you barely cared about a la liga match?’

‘yes,’ he huffed. ‘well, okay, maybe not barely. but you get what i mean.’

you did. you really did.

‘you have no idea how badly i wanted to see you,’ he continued. ‘at halftime, i grabbed my phone the second i got to the locker room. hansi was giving a whole speech and i wasn’t even listening, i just kept refreshing the score.’

‘pablo, oh my god.’

‘no, listen to this,’ he went on. ‘i had to hide my phone under my shirt when he started walking around because i refused to put it down. i literally thought i was gonna get subbed off for being distracted.’

you bit your lip, torn between being exasperated and incredibly touched.

‘you’re crazy.’

‘for you? yeah, i am,’ he admitted without hesitation. ‘i hate missing your matches. and i swear i’ll be at the next one, even if i have to fight hansi for it.’

you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. ‘i appreciate the commitment, but i don’t think hansi would take too kindly to that.’

‘too bad. he’ll have to deal with it,’ gavi muttered.

there was a beat of silence before he spoke again, softer this time.

‘you know how proud i am of you, right?’

you swallowed.

‘even if you didn’t win, even if you think it wasn’t enough, you’re incredible. i hope you know that.’

your throat tightened slightly. he always knew exactly what to say.

‘thank you,’ you murmured. ‘really. that means a lot.’

‘i mean it,’ he said. ‘and when i see you, i’m gonna hug you so tight you’ll forget all about today.’

you laughed lightly. ‘looking forward to it.’

‘good. now go rest, okay? we’ll talk later.’

you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. ‘okay. love you.’

‘love you more, mi amor.’

and just like that, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

can you make a story about Marc and reader, where he teases her about the height difference

❦ - short n sweet.

summary:: you didn’t choose to be short. but marc chose you. so therefore he can’t complain you’re short! but he does 💔.

warnings:: none!?

writers note:: lowkey gonna spam bc i always write my fics in my notes bc tumblr deletes drafts and i’ve written sm all i need to do is format 👅.

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

you weren’t even sure how the conversation started. one moment, you were waiting for him outside the training grounds, minding your business, and the next, marc was teasing you relentlessly about your height.

‘can you even see over the dashboard when you drive?’ he smirked, looking down at you as you both walked toward his car.

you rolled your eyes. ‘yes, marc. i don’t need a booster seat.’

‘are you sure?’ he nudged your side, laughing. ‘i can get you one, you know. i’ll even make it barca themed.’

‘oh, you’re hilarious,’ you deadpanned, shoving him lightly. it barely did anything, considering he was literally towering over you.

marc had been on this for weeks. every chance he got, he’d make some comment about how much smaller you were compared to him. it wasn’t even like you were that short, he was just unfairly tall.

‘wait, stand next to me for a sec,’ he said, stopping in his tracks.

you groaned. ‘marc—’

‘just for a second,’ he grinned.

you sighed but humored him, standing beside him as he straightened his posture. he looked down at you, then burst out laughing.

‘oh my god, i swear you’re getting shorter.’

you smacked his arm. ‘or maybe you’re just a freakishly tall human being.’

he ignored your insult, clearly enjoying himself. ‘i bet if we took a picture, people would think i’m your bodyguard.’

you gasped. ‘you did not just say that.’

he was dying of laughter at this point, barely able to breathe. ‘no, no, seriously. imagine me in a suit, standing behind you, all serious. people would think i’m protecting you from the paparazzi.’

you groaned dramatically. ‘you’re the worst.’

‘no, you’re the worst,’ he shot back playfully, slinging an arm around your shoulders with ease. ‘but it’s okay, i still like you, even if i have to break my neck looking down at you.’

you huffed, but you couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto your lips. ‘you’re so lucky i like you too, otherwise i’d trip you in the locker room.’

he grinned. ‘i’d like to see you try, shorty.’

and just like that, the teasing continued.

Could you do a part 3 of the Gavi x tennis player fic? That would be soo cool.

i’ve gotten multiple requests for this! so if you guys want to tagged or sum when it comes out please let me know xx

i js washed my hair so like what if you do a joao fic where he's home early from training and he comes back to see reader has washed her hair and it's all like curly and stuff

since his hair is more wavy-ish he's like surprised by the amount of care and products it takes to do to get the curls to be healthy and pretty yk?

so he's asking reader about the products and trying to add them to his hair and reading the labels on the packaging to get to understand what is the process

so yeah idk i hope this was understandable

(bonus is him being horrified by the amount of hair loss (totally not reflecting my own pain))

❦ - my girls curls.

summary:: what the req says

warnings:: none

writers note:: OMG I GET YOU BC TS WAS WHY I WAS BALD FOR AGES 💔. anyways i don’t have that issue anymore bc of a long long story from some bangladeshi hair salon… anyways yea… also i always write my fics b4 formatting so im doing this as i’m watching the portugal match and istg i keep on hallucinating that vitinha is joao.

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

joão wasn’t supposed to be home this early. training usually ran late, giving you plenty of time to go through your whole hair routine in peace. but today, for whatever reason, things had been cut short, which meant he was now stepping into your shared apartment much earlier than expected.

the first thing he noticed was the smell, sweet, floral, and slightly fruity. not your usual perfume, but something that smelled like you.

the second thing? your hair.

his eyes widened the second he saw you.

you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, your curls still slightly damp but fully defined, soft ringlets cascading down your shoulders. joão had seen your hair like this before, but something about catching you right after wash day made him stop and stare.

‘woah.’

you looked up, amused. ‘woah?’

he set his bag down, stepping closer. ‘your hair looks… really good.’

you smiled. ‘thanks, i just washed it.’

joão flopped down next to you, still looking at your curls with fascination. he had wavy hair himself, but nothing like this.

‘so, like…’ he gestured vaguely at your head. ‘how do you get it like that? because my hair just… exists.’

you laughed. ‘it takes work, joão. a lot of work.’

he frowned, suddenly curious. ‘what kind of work?’

you got up, motioning for him to follow. ‘come on, i’ll show you.’

he trailed behind you into the bathroom, eyes immediately going wide when he saw the chaos on the counter.

bottles. everywhere.

leave in conditioners, curl creams, mousses, oils, gels, things he had never seen before in his life.

‘…this is all for your hair?’

‘yep.’ you grabbed one bottle and handed it to him. ‘this is my leave-in.’

he turned it over, reading the label like it held the secrets of the universe. ‘intense hydration for dry, damaged curls…’ he looked at you. ‘is your hair dry and damaged?’

‘no, because i use that.’

he hummed, grabbing another bottle. ‘curl defining custard? custard? like the food?’

you snatched it from him before he could say something even dumber. ‘not the food, joão.’

he moved on, picking up a tiny bottle of oil. ‘and this?’

‘that’s my hair oil. it seals in moisture.’

he popped the cap off, sniffing it. ‘smells nice. can i try some?’

you raised a brow. ‘you wanna try my products?’

he shrugged. ‘i mean, my hair’s wavy, right? maybe it needs moisture too.’

you smirked, grabbing a small amount of leave in conditioner and running it through his hair. he stayed perfectly still, watching you in the mirror as you gently scrunched his strands.

‘see? it enhances your waves,’ you said, fluffing his hair.

joão blinked at his reflection. ‘oh. oh, this is nice.’

you laughed. ‘told you.’

just as you were about to grab the oil, you heard a dramatic gasp.

‘amor,’ he whispered, eyes locked on the sink. ‘you’re losing hair.’

you sighed, already knowing where this was going.

‘joão—’

‘there’s so much.’ he turned to you, horrified. ‘are you okay? are you sick? are you dying?’

‘oh my god.’ you dragged a hand down your face. ‘i shed hair, joão. it’s normal.’

he didn’t look convinced. ‘but this is a lot’

‘do you panic every time you see hair in your barber’s cape?’

he opened his mouth, then closed it.

you smirked. ‘yeah. exactly.’

joão sighed, shaking his head. ‘this is too much. all these steps, all these products, all this hair loss… how do you do this every wash day?’

you leaned against the counter, smiling. ‘because when it’s done, i look good.’

he grinned, reaching out to pull one of your curls, watching it bounce back into place.

‘you look really good,’ he admitted.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in. ‘i know.’

he laughed, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. ‘can i borrow your leave in?’

‘absolutely not.’

he pouted but didn’t argue, still fascinated by your hair. his fingers twirled a curl around lazily, watching it spring back every time he let go.

‘so, how long does this all take?’

‘on a good day? an hour and a half.’

his jaw dropped. ‘an hour and a half?’

you rolled your eyes. ‘it takes time to look this good.’

‘i don’t even spend that long in training some days,’ he muttered, shaking his head.

you snorted. ‘you also don’t have curls that need hydration and definition.’

he looked back at his own hair in the mirror, scrunching his waves. ‘maybe i should start a routine. do you think my hair can look like yours?’

you tilted your head, studying him. ‘with the right products? maybe. but you’d have to actually commit to it.’

he hummed, still scrunching his hair like he was testing it. ‘what if i just let you do it for me?’

you smirked. ‘absolutely not.’

he groaned. ‘but you’re so good at it’

‘then i’d have to do this twice every wash day. no thanks.’

joão sighed dramatically, still staring at his reflection. ‘fine. but you are helping me find the right products.’

‘deal.’ you grabbed your oil and rubbed some onto your hands, working it through your curls.

joão watched you carefully, his eyes soft. ‘you know, you’re kinda cute when you do all this.’

you snorted. ‘kinda?’

he grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

‘okay, really cute.’

you leaned back against him, smiling. ‘good answer.’

he pressed another kiss to your cheek, sighing. ‘i still can’t believe you go through all this every wash day.’

‘well, now you kinda have to, too,’ you teased.

joão groaned, burying his face into your neck. ‘what have i gotten myself into?’

you laughed, threading your fingers through his waves. ‘moisturized hair, that’s what.’

Yes pt2 of the Jude fic plis

❦ - not enough for you. part 2.

summary:: ‘and with hardship comes ease.’ here is finally your ease.

warnings:: THIS WAS LEFT IN MY DRAFTS FOR ALMOST A MONTH.

writers note:: i am SO sorry it took this long? but here’s part one as well.

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

it had been weeks.

weeks since you walked out of his apartment, since you left behind the life you had built together. weeks of silence, of pretending you were okay, of waking up in an empty bed and forcing yourself not to check your phone.

you tried to move on. threw yourself into work, took on extra projects, stayed late at the office just to avoid coming home to the quiet. you told yourself you were fine. that you had made the right choice. that love should never come at the expense of yourself.

but god, you missed him.

you missed the way he’d pull you into his arms at the end of a long day, the way he’d press lazy kisses to your temple while you worked, the way he’d always keep a hand on you, your knee, your back, your fingers tangled with his, like he needed to know you were there.

some nights, you swore you could still hear his laugh echoing in the corners of your apartment. some mornings, you still reached for him in bed before remembering he wasn’t there.

and it hurt. because for all the love you had for him, it hadn’t been enough. and that truth sat heavy on your chest, refusing to fade.

then, one night, your phone rang.

his name flashed across the screen. your breath caught.

for a moment, you considered ignoring it. letting it go to voicemail. but something in you, something stubborn, something still so deeply tied to him, made you press accept.

‘hey,’ his voice was rough, like he hadn’t been sleeping.

you swallowed, gripping your phone tighter. ‘hey.’

silence.

‘i don’t know how to do this,’ he admitted, voice quiet. ‘how to be without you.’

your eyes burned. ‘you’re not without me, jude. i’m still here. i just… i just couldn’t keep choosing you over myself.’

a harsh exhale. ‘i know. and i hate that i made you feel like you had to.’

his voice cracked on the last word, and something inside you splintered.

‘it wasn’t fair,’ you whispered. ‘you wanted me to be someone i’m not. and that’s not love, jude. love isn’t asking someone to sacrifice who they are to fit into your world.’

he was quiet for so long you thought maybe he wouldn’t respond. but then,

‘i know,’ he said, voice hoarse. ‘i’ve been thinking about it. about us. about what i did wrong. and you were right. i wanted you to fit into my life, but i never stopped to think about how i could fit into yours.’

your throat tightened. ‘jude…’

‘i was selfish,’ he continued, not letting you interrupt. ‘i thought love meant you’d follow me anywhere, that you’d drop everything because you loved me. but i never stopped to think about how much you already had to lose. and that’s not fair. it’s not fair to you.’

a tear slipped down your cheek.

‘i miss you,’ he admitted, voice breaking. ‘but more than that, i miss being the person who made you happy. and i don’t know if we can fix this. but i want to try. if you’ll let me.’

your breath hitched.

for weeks, you had convinced yourself that he would never understand. that he would always expect you to fit into his world, to mold yourself into something easier, something more convenient. but this—this was him trying.

this was him choosing to meet you in the middle.

‘if we try again,’ you said carefully, ‘things have to be different. i need to know that you see me, jude. that you respect what i want for myself just as much as i respect what you want for yourself.’

‘i do,’ he said without hesitation. ‘i swear i do. i just… i don’t want to do this without you.’

you exhaled shakily, pressing your fingers to your temple.

‘can i see you?’ he asked after a beat. ‘not to fix everything right now, not to force anything. just… to see you.’

your heart ached. you knew this was a risk. that loving him, choosing him again, meant trusting that he would follow through on his promises. but a part of you, the part that never stopped loving him, wanted to believe that he could.

so you swallowed past the lump in your throat and whispered, ‘yeah. okay.’

and for the first time in weeks, hope felt like something real. something worth holding onto.

stop my blind ass confused my alt and your acc and i was like "SAIRA DIDN'T UPLOAD IN 8 WEEKS?" then realised smh

BYE IVE NEVER LAUGHED THIS HARD IN MY LIFE AT SUM HOW DUD YOU MISTAKE US THAT BADLY 💔

Toni is actually so pretty like wth so how about reader doing makeup on him?

❦ - painted pretty.

summary:: despite all his protests, you do your boyfriends makeup.

warnings:: i wrote this at school.

writers notes:: i’m so sorry this took ages to put out my babies 💔. ALSO I PROMISE I HAVE LIKE 5 FINISHED FICS IN NY DRAFTS THAT NEED FORMATTING IM SORRY.

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

‘why am i doing this again?’

toni was sitting stiffly in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest, watching with narrowed eyes as you laid out your makeup products on the desk. he was clearly trying to act like he wasn’t into this, but the way he kept sneaking glances at the different brushes told you otherwise.

‘because i asked nicely,’ you said sweetly, picking up a beauty blender. ‘and because you love me.’

he rolled his eyes. ‘i don’t remember agreeing to this.’

‘well, you didn’t say no either, soooo…’ you trailed off, smiling.

he sighed, rubbing his temple like you were giving him a headache. ‘you better not make me look stupid.’

you gasped, clutching your chest in fake offense. ‘excuse me? when have i ever made you look stupid?’

toni gave you a look. ‘do you want me to list examples?’

‘shut up and let me do your makeup.’

he huffed but sat up straighter, finally relenting. you straddled his lap, cupping his face between your hands.

‘okay, first of all, you have great skin,’ you said, smoothing some primer over his cheeks. ‘this is almost unfair.’

he smirked. ‘good genetics.’

‘whatever.’ you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

as you started blending foundation onto his face, he sat incredibly still, his jaw tense like he was concentrating hard.

‘toni, you can relax,’ you giggled.

‘this requires focus,’ he said seriously.

you snorted. ‘it’s literally just makeup. you act like i’m giving you stitches.’

‘you’re holding something very close to my eye. i need to be prepared.’

he was being so dramatic, but you loved it.

you worked quickly, adding concealer under his eyes, setting everything with a light dusting of powder. his sharp cheekbones made contouring a dream, and when you brushed highlighter onto the high points of his face, he blinked in surprise.

‘it’s shiny,’ he murmured, turning his face slightly.

‘yes, baby, that’s the point.’

his brows furrowed, but he didn’t argue.

when you got to the eyeshadow, you hummed, tilting your head. ‘i think a soft brown would look good on you.’

toni raised an eyebrow. ‘you sound like you’ve been waiting to do this for a long time.’

you grinned sheepishly. ‘maybe.’

he sighed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. ‘just don’t make me look like a clown.’

‘trust me, i’m making you look pretty.’

he muttered something under his breath, but let you continue.

by the time you finished blending the eyeshadow and adding a tiny wing to the corner of his eye, you were practically bouncing with excitement.

‘okay, you literally have the perfect face for this. you look so good.’

toni turned to the mirror, studying his reflection. his brows lifted slightly, his lips parting in surprise.

‘huh.’

‘see? i told you!’

he tilted his head, his fingers ghosting over his cheekbone. ‘i look… kinda cool.’

‘kind of?’ you scoffed. ‘you look incredible.’

he turned back to you, the corner of his mouth twitching. ‘alright, fine. you did a good job.’

‘thank you,’ you said smugly. ‘now, let me take a picture—’

toni’s expression immediately dropped. ‘no evidence.’

‘but—’

‘no.’

you pouted. ‘but you look so pretty!’

he sighed, shaking his head. ‘fine. one picture. just for you.’

you grinned, quickly snapping a photo before he could change his mind.

but later that night, when he thought you weren’t looking, you caught him staring at his reflection again, tilting his head side to side, admiring the soft glow on his skin.

‘do you want me to do it again sometime?’ you asked, biting back a smile.

toni cleared his throat, looking away. ‘i don’t care.’

but the way his ears turned pink told you everything you needed to know.

HELLLO TIS I

okay so no.1 the theme ate SO HARD??? im drooling and i am on my KNEES

anyhow here to req a joao fic !!

so like what if reader is a ballerina or figure skater and she obvs comes home with like cuts and bruises from training and comps and stuff and basically joao makes thee BIGGEST fuss over it

like it can be treated with time but no. that man will bring a whole medic bag to treat the TINIEST cut and will overreact to every single injury she has !

this is so shitty but i requested this to someone else *uhm uhm evelina uhm uhm* and she has NOT written it yet so i'm frolicking here

you can ignore this if you want bc the idea is shit but yeah idk i js wanted to req something

BYEYEYYE HAVE A GOOD DAY / NIGHT AND ILYYYYY <33

MWAHHHH

❦ - delicate.

summary:: well there isn’t much to summarise bro 💔.

warnings:: none?

writers notes:: first and foremost i love this req and im tryna make my fics longer but idk how to drag it on yk? but i think if somewhat figured it out! ALSO EVE I MANAGED TO DO IT BEFORE YOU 👅👅👅👅👅👅👅.

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

joão swore he almost had a heart attack the first time he saw them.

the tiny, angry red cuts littering your feet and ankles, some fading into soft pink scars, others fresh from your last competition. you had always told him ballet was tough, that it wasn’t just twirling around in pretty dresses, but nothing could have prepared him for this.

you were sitting on the couch, legs stretched over his lap, casually scrolling through your phone like nothing was wrong. meanwhile, he was staring at your feet like they had personally offended him.

‘what the hell is this?’ he blurted out, his fingers hovering over one particularly deep cut near your ankle.

you glanced at him, unfazed. ‘what’s what?’

‘this,’ he practically whined, gesturing wildly at your feet. ‘why do you look like you’ve been fighting for your life?’

you snorted. ‘joão, relax. they’re just cuts from my pointe shoes. they’ll heal.’

‘heal?’ he repeated, horrified. ‘how long have they been like this?’

you shrugged. ‘i don’t know. it happens all the time.’

his jaw dropped. ‘all the time?’

you sighed, putting your phone down. ‘it’s normal, babe. every ballerina deals with it. my feet just need time to recover between competitions.’

joão wasn’t hearing any of it.

‘this isn’t normal. this is self-destruction. why didn’t you tell me?’

‘because i knew you’d react like this.’

he scoffed. ‘of course i’m reacting like this! you’re literally injured and acting like it’s nothing.’

you groaned, throwing your head back against the couch. ‘joão, they’re fine. it’s not like i broke something. they’ll be healed in a few days.’

but he was already shaking his head, carefully lifting your foot to examine it closer.

‘you should’ve told me,’ he muttered, brows furrowed in concern.

‘what would you have done?’ you teased. ‘wrap me in bubble wrap?’

he didn’t answer, which told you exactly what you needed to know.

you laughed, cupping his cheek. ‘you’re ridiculous, you know that?’

‘you’re the ridiculous one,’ he shot back, still frowning at your feet. ‘how can you just ignore pain like this?’

‘because i have to. it comes with the sport.’

he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

‘so what, you just suffer in silence?’

you bit your lip. ‘i wouldn’t call it suffering. it’s just part of the process. like how you play with bruises or minor sprains sometimes.’

joão blinked, then scowled. ‘not the same thing.’

‘it’s literally the same thing.’

he huffed, still clearly displeased.

‘okay, but do you at least take care of them? like, properly?’

you hesitated for half a second, and that was all the answer he needed.

‘you don’t, do you?’ he accused.

‘joão—’

‘unbelievable.’

before you could stop him, he was already up, marching toward the bathroom.

you sighed, knowing exactly what was coming.

he returned moments later with a first-aid kit, a determined look on his face.

‘babe, really?’ you groaned.

‘yes, really. you clearly need someone to take care of you since you won’t do it yourself.’

you rolled your eyes but let him take your foot in his hands. he was surprisingly gentle, his fingers light as he dabbed at the cuts with antiseptic wipes.

he paused when you flinched, looking up at you with wide eyes.

‘does it hurt?’

‘not really.’

his glare told you he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t argue. instead, he carefully applied ointment to each cut, blowing softly on your skin like it would somehow make the sting go away.

you watched him work, your chest tightening.

‘you really don’t have to do this,’ you whispered.

he glanced up, his gaze softening. ‘i want to.’

you smiled, threading your fingers through his hair.

‘you’re a little dramatic, you know that?’

he snorted. ‘yeah? well, you’re a little reckless, so i guess we balance each other out.’

you laughed, letting him finish bandaging your feet.

when he was done, he pressed a kiss to each foot before meeting your gaze.

‘no more competitions for a while, right?’

‘not for a few weeks.’

‘good. because i’m making sure you actually rest this time.’

‘yes, doctor félix,’ you teased.

he smirked. ‘damn right.’

he pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping around you like he needed to keep you safe from the world.

you sighed, relaxing into him.

maybe having someone fuss over you wasn’t so bad after all.

but joão wasn’t done.

for the next two days, he treated you like you were made of glass. he wouldn’t let you walk barefoot around the apartment, claiming the floors were ‘too rough.’ he brought you socks, ice packs, pillows, anything he thought might help, even though you insisted you were fine.

‘joão, i can literally walk perfectly. i danced on these feet last week,’ you reminded him.

he scoffed, tossing you another pillow. ‘yeah, and look where that got you.’

‘oh my god.’

he followed you around, ready to catch you at the slightest sign of discomfort. if you so much as winced, he was at your side in seconds.

‘are you okay?’

‘joão, i stubbed my toe.’

‘that’s how it starts!’

you groaned, shoving his face away.

but as much as he annoyed you, you knew it came from love.

late at night, when you were curled up in bed, he would trace the scars on your ankles with gentle fingers, his touch barely there.

‘you work so hard,’ he murmured against your skin.

‘so do you.’

‘yeah, but i don’t bleed for it.’

you turned in his arms, brushing your lips over his.

‘this is what i love, joão, and i know you hate seeing me hurt, but it’s part of what makes me strong.’

he exhaled, pulling you even closer. ‘i just wish i could take the pain for you.’

you smiled, tucking your head under his chin.

‘you already do, in your own way.’

he kissed the top of your head, whispering, ‘always.’

and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to carry the weight alone.

OMG This Gavi x tennis reader fic was so good could you do a part two or maybe a series out of it. It would be soo cool

❦ - love && war part 2.

summary:: after ages of long distance due to matches and opens, you two are finally reunited, for good. ALSO YOU CAN READ THIS AS A ONE SHOT IF YOU WISH.

warnings:: none

writers note:: first of yall do yg want a part 3 and if so lmk! and usually i have sm to say but i js dont?

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

gavi hated this.

hated watching your matches through a screen. hated missing the moments that mattered. hated that you were miles away while he was stuck in barcelona, playing game after game without you in the stands.

he had tried to act normal. tried to focus on training, on his own matches, but it was impossible when his mind kept drifting back to you.

you were playing one of the biggest tournaments of your career, and he wasn’t there. instead, he was sitting in the team bus, watching the live stream on his phone with his airpods in, barely listening as his teammates talked around him.

pedri nudged him. ‘what’s the score?’

‘she won the first set. second set’s tied.’ gavi’s voice was tight, his grip on his phone firm.

his heart was racing. he could see the way you moved, the way you fought for every point. he knew that look on your face, the one that meant you weren’t giving up.

when the bus arrived at the hotel, gavi didn’t move. he just sat there, eyes locked on his screen.

ferran laughed. ‘bro, are you coming?’

‘go without me,’ gavi muttered, waving them off.

pedri sighed but didn’t argue. ‘don’t stay up all night, man. you have a game tomorrow.’

gavi didn’t even acknowledge him. he was too busy watching you chase down a drop shot, too busy whispering curses under his breath when you missed, too busy fist pumping when you won the next point.

then came match point.

he held his breath.

you tossed the ball into the air, racket swinging effortlessly, the sharp sound of the ball meeting strings filling the speakers. your opponent barely got a return in before you sent a forehand straight down the line, untouched.

game, set, match.

gavi exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair as he watched you drop your racket, hands flying to your face in disbelief before pure joy took over. the crowd erupted, commentators shouting excitedly, but all gavi could focus on was you.

he needed to call you. now.

he stepped off the bus, walking toward the hotel entrance as he pulled up your contact. it barely rang twice before you picked up, breathless.

‘pablo!’

he grinned. ‘felicidades, mi amor. joder, you were incredible.’

you let out a shaky laugh, still overwhelmed. ‘you watched?’

‘of course i watched,’ he scoffed. ‘you think i’d miss that?’

‘you have a game tomorrow.’

‘i don’t care. i needed to see you win.’

there was a pause, your breathing still heavy from the match.

‘i wish you were here.’

his chest tightened. ‘me too.’

and he meant it. more than anything.

you sighed softly. ‘i’m flying back in two days.’

‘two days is too long.’

‘pablo.’

‘what if i come to you instead?’

you groaned. ‘you have training. a match. be serious.’

‘no quiero ser serio,’ he muttered. ‘quiero verte.’

you laughed, tired but full of love. ‘dos días, amor. i’ll be home soon.’

he sighed, kicking at the ground. ‘fine. but the second you land, i’m kidnapping you.’

‘deal.’

he smiled, finally making his way inside. two days. he just had to survive two more days.

gavi had never been this impatient in his life.

he was at the airport two hours early, pacing near the arrivals gate like a madman. pedri had made fun of him for it, called him dramatic, told him to just wait at home like a normal person, but gavi didn’t care. he had waited long enough.

his arms were crossed, jaw tight, sneakers tapping anxiously against the polished floor as he checked the flight tracker for what had to be the hundredth time. landed. you were here. finally.

his heart was pounding, fingers tapping against his thigh as he watched passengers filter through the doors. every time someone who vaguely resembled you walked out, he straightened up, only to sigh when it wasn’t you.

then he saw you.

hair slightly messy from the flight, suitcase dragging behind you, eyes scanning the crowd. and the second your gaze landed on him, everything else disappeared.

he didn’t think. he just moved.

one second, he was standing still. the next, he was pushing through people, reaching for you, grabbing your face and kissing you like he was scared you’d disappear again.

you barely had time to react before you melted into him, hands gripping his hoodie as he held you close, like he needed to feel every inch of you to believe you were really here.

when he finally pulled back, you were breathless, blinking up at him in surprise.

‘hola to you too,’ you teased.

he ignored you, pressing his forehead against yours. ‘you’re never leaving for that long again.’

you laughed softly, fingers brushing through his hair. ‘i can’t promise that, pablo.’

‘then i’ll come with you.’

‘you have a job, remember?’

he frowned. ‘it’s a stupid job.’

you grinned. ‘says the guy who loves football more than anything.’

‘not more than you,’ he muttered, arms still locked around you.

you sighed, shaking your head. ‘you’re impossible.’

‘you love it.’

you did. you really did.

he grabbed your suitcase, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he started leading you toward the exit.

‘come on, we’re going home. and i’m not letting you out of my sight for at least a week.’

you smiled, leaning into him. ‘fine by me.’

the drive back to his place was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. it was the kind of comfortable silence that only came from knowing someone so deeply that words weren’t always necessary. gavi had one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, thumb brushing absently over your skin.

you watched him in the dim light of the car, his face focused, jaw tight like he was still processing the fact that you were finally here.

‘you okay?’ you asked softly.

he glanced at you, squeezing your leg before turning back to the road. ‘yeah. just… missed you.’

you smiled, threading your fingers through his. ‘i missed you too.’

he let out a small breath, like he had been holding it in for weeks.

‘you’re really not leaving for a while, right?’

you bit your lip. ‘well—’

his head snapped toward you so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash. ‘no. no way. you just got back.’

you laughed. ‘pablo, relax. i meant i have a few interviews and press stuff, but i don’t have to travel again for at least a month.’

he exhaled dramatically. ‘okay. that’s fine. i can work with a month.’

you rolled your eyes, leaning over to kiss his cheek. ‘you’re so dramatic.’

he just hummed, tightening his grip on your hand like he was scared you’d slip away.

when you finally reached his apartment, he barely gave you time to take off your shoes before he was pulling you onto the couch, dragging you into his lap.

‘pablo,’ you giggled. ‘let me breathe.’

‘no.’

you shook your head, running your fingers through his hair. ‘you’re like a clingy puppy.’

he just buried his face in your neck, mumbling something you couldn’t quite hear.

‘what was that?’

he sighed, voice muffled against your skin. ‘i hated not being there.’

you softened, tilting his chin up so he was looking at you. his eyes were darker than usual, serious.

‘you support me, pablo. even from miles away. i always feel you with me.’

he swallowed, looking down for a second before meeting your gaze again. ‘i wanted to be in the stands. wanted to run down to the court and pick you up when you won. wanted to kiss you in front of everyone so they knew you were mine.’

your heart ached.

‘pablo—’

‘i know your career is important. i’d never want you to give that up. but sometimes i wish things were easier. that i could just be with you all the time.’

you sighed, resting your forehead against his.

‘me too.’

his hands slid up your back, pressing you even closer. ‘promise me something?’

‘anything.’

‘next time you win a title, i’ll be there. no matter what.’

you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. ‘deal.’

he grinned against your mouth, flipping you onto your back so he could hover over you.

‘good. because i don’t plan on missing another match ever again.’

you laughed, pulling him down for another kiss.

home. finally.

saira i have an idea

what if i send you a joao fic idea everyday until i die (have to go offline)

how about yes! i have a few other fics (a LOT of kenan and cubarsi but i have a draft for a joao one u requested 👅

girl I’m OBSESSED with your gavi fluff omggg

like el mar, el sol and mi corazón is one of my top fics of all time 😔🙏🙏

STOP IT THAT MADE MY DAY. i remb i wrote that as mainly a scrap bc i was bored and it was a scrap and also originally for joao! but im so glad i changed it to gavi bc it suits him smm

Hiii!! I've been thinking about this for a while, and I feel like you're the best person to write it. Something where the reader and Kenan are getting involved, spending time together, but no one knows. They don’t follow each other on Instagram and try not to like each other’s posts so no one gets suspicious. She told him it would be the best way to avoid gossip since she’s the daughter of a famous retired football player and wants to keep things low-key. But after a night together, Kenan tells her he's tired of hiding, that he wants her at his games, and that he doesn't care about all that. Still, she keeps avoiding it. There's an important match in two days, and he really wants her to be there. Then, out of nowhere, her dad decides to visit and takes the chance to watch the game. She texts Kenan, telling him that his wish is coming true—she’ll be there, and no one will suspect anything. The game is amazing, and she ends up appearing on the big screen next to her father. Those images start circulating on football pages because everyone is fascinated by how stunning the ex-player’s daughter is. This brings a lot of attention to her, and suddenly, some bolder footballers start following her. Kenan does not like that…

I feel like there could be more to this, but I can’t think of an ending. I know you can turn this into gold!

❦ - hidden in plain sight.

summary:: what the req says + i honestly wouldn’t be able to tell u bc i didn’t proofread this and i wrote it like last week (idek if this even follows the req but im posting this otw to school?)

warnings:: uhhh none

writers note:: RIGHT so i think im people favourite kenan writer bc the reqs just keep coming (i love you guys pls don’t ever stop my cuties!) anyways enjoy 💔.

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

kenan leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching as you slip one of his hoodies over your bare shoulders. it’s too big, the sleeves hanging past your fingertips, but you wear it anyway. you always do. the early morning light filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow on your skin, making the moment feel softer than it really is.

you’ve spent the night together, again, but as always, you’ll be gone before the world wakes up. it’s your unspoken rule.

but something feels different this morning. there’s a weight in the air, something unspoken lingering between you. you can feel kenan’s eyes on you as you tie your hair into a loose ponytail, as you reach for your bag. normally, he lets you go without a fight. normally, he kisses you once more, watches you walk out the door, and waits for the next time.

but today, he doesn’t just let it go.

‘you really think this is still working?’ his voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it.

you pause, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. ‘what do you mean?’

‘this. us. hiding like this.’

you turn to look at him, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes, frustration, longing, something deeper than either of you have ever acknowledged out loud.

he steps forward, his hands slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. ‘i want you at my games. i want to see you in the stands, wearing my jersey, cheering for me. i want to go out with you without having to think twice about who’s watching.’ his fingers tighten just slightly, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. ‘and i don't care who knows.’

your heart clenches, but you force yourself to shake your head. ‘kenan… you know why we do this. the second people find out, it won’t be about us anymore. it’ll be about my dad, about gossip, about every little thing i do. and then there’s your career-‘

‘my career?’ he scoffs, his jaw clenching. ‘you think i give a damn about what people say? i want you. that’s it.’

you look up at him, searching his face for something, understanding, patience, anything to make this easier. but all you see is frustration and something deeper, something that scares you.

‘kenan…’ your voice is soft, uncertain.

‘no. i’m tired of this, babe.’ his hands tighten on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away just like every other morning. ‘i want you there. i want you to be able to post a picture of us without thinking twice. i want to hold your hand in public without looking over my shoulder.’

you want that too. god, you do. but it’s not that simple. it’s never been that simple.

‘please,’ he says, voice lower now. ‘come to my game.’

you don’t answer. you just press a kiss to his jaw and step back, reaching for your bag. ‘i’ll see you later, kenan.’

he watches as you leave, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists like he’s fighting the urge to chase after you. but he doesn’t. he never does.

two days later.

you’ve been avoiding the topic. every time your phone lights up with kenan’s name, you hesitate before answering, knowing exactly what he wants to say.

then, out of nowhere, your dad calls.

‘thought i’d come visit for a few days,’ he says casually. ‘been a while since i saw you. figured we could catch up, and… oh, i got us tickets to that big juventus match. i know you don’t care much, but come on, it’ll be fun.’

your heart stops.

kenan’s game.

the universe has a twisted sense of humor.

when you text kenan, your hands are shaking, half from nerves, half from something else.

you’re getting your wish. i’ll be at the game. no one will suspect a thing.

his reply is instant.

finally.

match day.

the stadium is packed, the energy electric. cameras flash everywhere, fans wave banners, the roar of the crowd vibrates through your chest. you sit next to your dad, pretending this is just another game, just another night. but it’s not. you know it. and kenan knows it too.

you try not to look for him, but it’s impossible. every time he gets the ball, every time he makes a play, you feel his presence like gravity pulling you in. and then, in a moment so brief you almost think you imagined it, he looks up, right at you.

you don’t breathe.

he smirks. just for a second. just for you.

then the screen shifts.

your face. your dad’s. plastered across the big screen for the entire stadium to see.

your stomach drops.

your dad laughs, nudging your arm. ‘guess they like seeing an old legend in the crowd, huh?’

you force a smile, but your pulse is racing.

the internet moves fast. by the time the game ends, pictures are everywhere, sports pages, football accounts, gossip sites. ex-player’s stunning daughter spotted at big match. the comments flood in. admiration. curiosity. and then… attention. the kind you didn’t want.

your notifications blow up. blue check accounts start following you. some of them are footballers, bold enough to slip into your dms, dropping fire emojis, compliments, invitations.

and kenan?

he’s livid.

later that night.

you’re in your apartment when he shows up, not even bothering to knock.

‘so that’s what it takes for you to show up at one of my games? your dad bringing you?’ his voice is sharp, but underneath it, there’s something else. jealousy. frustration. something that makes your chest tighten.

you cross your arms, shifting your weight. ‘kenan, don’t—’

‘don’t what? act like i didn’t see how many guys suddenly started following you? or how you ignored my texts but had time to post?’

‘oh my god, are you serious right now?’ you let out a short, humorless laugh. ‘this is exactly why i didn’t want us to go public. the second people know, it becomes a thing.’

he steps closer, his jaw clenched. ‘this isn’t about people knowing. it’s about you acting like you don’t want to be seen with me.’

that hits harder than you expect. you open your mouth, then close it, unsure what to say.

kenan shakes his head. ‘you think hiding protects us, but all it does is push me away.’

you swallow hard, because deep down, you know he’s right.

‘you’re mine,’ he says, voice lower now, rough with emotion. ‘and i want people to know that. so tell me right now. do you want this or not?’

the answer is easy. it’s always been easy.

you step closer, press your hands to his chest, feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips. ‘of course i want this, kenan.’

his lips crash into yours before you can say anything else, months of frustration, longing, and unspoken words pouring into the kiss. he backs you against the wall, hands firm on your waist, like he’s trying to make up for every second he’s had to pretend you weren’t his.

when you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks. ‘good. because next time i look up in the stands, you better be there, and not because your dad brought you.’

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. ‘fine. but if i show up, i’m wearing your jersey.’

kenan grins, hands still tight on your waist. ‘now that’s what i like to hear.’