IM SCREAMING AND THIS LOWKEY REMINDS ME TO POST THE FICS IN MY DRAFTS THANK YOU BAE

october is diabolical (i feel u bro 💔.)

anyways this definitely makes up for the obscure amount of time that took this is yummy it fed me good lord. está es una de las mejores cosas que he leído, DIOS MIOS tu talento está más allá de este mundo😍😍

Hey can you do one for Alejandro Balde where he's childhood best friends with reader. Some angst where other girls seem to come into the picture with his fame but he finds out how Y/N feels and reassures her!

✮ Don’t Shy Away - Alejandro Balde

alejandro balde x childhood bsf!fem!reader

sy: you become painfully overwhelmed by how your childhood bsf becomes swarmed and smitten with his own fangirls, as you become increasingly scared to admit your love.

a/n: this has terribly been in my drafts since oct and im actually ashamed for leaving it so long. i hope this makes up for it though <3

warnings: not really tbf.

the sky hung low with a suffocating greyness, and the wind nipped at your skin as you lingered on the outskirts of the pitch.

he’d asked you to be here.

you bounced on the heels of your feet, your fingers nervously etching across the leather purse in your grasp, scratching at the silk. you felt out of place, like you didn’t belong here, but then again—he asked you to be here.

the laughter reached you first, light and airy, floating across the pitch like the first taunt of a fight you couldn’t win.

there he was. alejandro—swirled up in the centre of a foreign crowd. instead, lavishing with women in head to toe with glam. their eyes sparkled with admiration, their voices like birdsongs when they exclaimed out his name.

that smile; the same one you knew like the back of your hand.

but him? he only basked in it. basked in the attention that he received, oblivious to the way it shredded you, piece by piece—leaving raw edges where your heart used to be whole.

the boy who once made pinky promises in the glow of streetlights, who used to scold you for crying over scraped knees and share his dreams with the kind of quiet fervor that only children possess—he felt so far away now.

fame clung to him like a second skin, and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to peel it back and find the alejandro you knew.

“this is so stupid,” you curse yourself silently, your eyes magnate down to your shoes. let this be the last time you let yourself be humiliated.

you fumble with the watch on your wrist, clocking down the minutes that had you foolishly stood here, waiting. twenty-nine minutes.

it was pointless in waiting here still; you weren’t going to watch the clock tick to thirty as your self respect was slipping.

“hey,” balde called out, jogging to catch up to you, “your leaving so soon?”

when you didn’t turn around, he stopped you in your tracks by kneading his hand into your shoulder blade to prevent you from moving.

“alright party pooper, what’s with the rush? do you not wanna talk to me tonight or something?” he laughed, that same, familiar sense of humour creeping through in every worse moment.

with his help, you spun round, and instantly locked with his eyes. “what’s with the pout chica? im here, now, talk to me.”

“what’s there to talk about ale?” you inquire, brushing his hand from your shoulder. “you asked me to be here.”

“and you came,” alejandro pointed out with a grin, as if that alone made it better. “so i was thinking, if you wanted to stop by tonight.”

the way he said it, like he hadn’t just spent the last half hour entertaining other women whilst you stood around like an idiot.

you wanted to say yes. you wanted to just forget the hurt and walk away with him. but after tonight, after feeling like an insignificant background character, you didn’t have the strength to go.

“i’m just not feeling it today,” you whispered, avoiding eye contact. “sorry.”

“c’mon,” giving you playful jabs to your arm, “what’s the gloom? when do you ever reject me?”

there was a pause of silence. before you sighed, locking your hands behind your back. “it’s nothing.”

his grin faltered, his eyes examining your body language. “nada, no, see—now i know your lying.”

“just let it go ale.” you said, stepping back.

his teasing dropped almost instantly. “your upset? mad? definitely not happy,” he muttered the final words under his breath. “nervous?”

you grumble, crossing your arms. “seriously?”

he tilted his head slightly, examining your face carefully. “are you on your perio—?”

“no balde!” you finally snapped, which made his head instantly recoil back up. you couldn’t keep the anger from breaking through, even if you tried. “are you not aware of what you’ve just done?”

his expression stays blank, and if anything, he looks more shocked at your outburst than he does concerned. and that, more than anything, made the fire in you burn hotter.

“so your gonna stand there, mute, and act oblivious?!” you eventually screech, having no regard for who was listening. “as you always do i expect.”

“qué i don’t—”

“no you never do. do you ale?” you spit, as he pushes you into a more secluded area underneath the tunnel; away from prying eyes.

“look,” he sighs softly, “can you explain it to me rather than screaming in my face?”

“you dont deserve my explanation,” you mutter, feeling the sting of tears at the brim of your eyes.

your throat burned, the fury dissolving, leaving only a raw, aching pain in its wake. if you didn’t leave now, it would only make you cry, and you couldn’t let that happen.

not after defending yourself so promptly.

you turned away again, ready to walk off before you lost whatever shred of dignity you had left. but ale was too quick, wrapping his hand around you wrist before you had the chance.

“why do you keep pushing me away?” ale’s voice dropped an octave low, almost shameful. “im just trying to help you.”

with a slow twist back around, you met his gaze with an expression he could quite decipher.

the conflict of hurt and frustration clear in your eyes made his grip tighten, feeling the desperation in his fingers.

“maybe i don’t need your help!” you exclaim, the contradicting nature between his words and actions making your eyes burn. “not now.”

“what do you mean not now?”

“isn’t it clear?” you shake your head, “can you really not see it… how i truly feel?”

“how you feel? no i didn’t even recog—”

you scoffed, pulling your wrist away. “exactly.”

balde exhaled through his nose, raking his fingers through his hair. “what’s this about huh? you could of just told me you didn’t wanna come over y/n.”

“its not that,” you huff, staring at your shoes.

“then what is it?” alejandro crouches slightly to look at your face, bringing his thumb under your chin.

when you didn’t reply to him, he carried on.

“please, whatever it is, i would rather us talk it out than you hating me for something i’ve done.” and this time, his tone carried sincerity.

not like before, where it was all light and jovial, like he thought everything was just a joke. but instead, something that said he truly cared.

biting the inside of your cheek, you tried to keep your composure. “you spent thirty minutes surrounded by them..”

the guilt in his eyes were immediate; the footballers shoulders dropped in regret.

“..and i stood there like a fool, waiting for you.”

you shuffled your feet against the concrete, finally bringing up the courage to look him in the eyes. “i didn’t have to come.”

“i know,” he replied—weak.

the words echoed in the tranquil air, closing in on you both as neither of you had the fight to say anything.

“i messed up,” he finally admitted, swallowing the lump in his throat. “i should’ve been with you. i should’ve seen you standing there.”

almost as a reflex, you squeezed your eyes shut in hopes to savour this moment if it wasn’t real. you wanted to trust that it was real.

“hey, im being serious y/n. for the first time ever.”

your lips parted in protest, your heart racing at the proximity as he pressed his forehead against yours.

the closeness, the way his breath fanned over your skin—it was everything you’d spent years yearning for, but never daring to confront.

“trust me when i say this,” he pulled back, brushing a stray hair from your face, “i don’t want anybody else.”

you gulped thickly, his words playing strings with your heart. why did he wait for so long to say it?

“you say that now,” you whisper, defeated. “but what about tomorrow? or even weeks from now, when your surrounded by them?”

his brows furrowed, eyes dark with something unreadable. then, as if making a decision right then and there, he took your hands in his.

“there won’t be a next time,” he promised, his thumbs tracing soft circles over your skin. “i don’t care about them, nor the attention, the cameras, the noise—it all means nothing without you.”

the words hit you harder than you expected, knocking the air from your lungs.

“i love you, nena. not them. not this life. you.”

your lips trembled, he was already pulling you in, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“i know i don’t deserve an answer right now,” he murmured against your skin. “but let me prove it to you, okay?”

a shuddered breath left you, your fingers gripping the front of his jacket as if letting go would mean losing him again.

“¿me dejarás?” (will you let me?)

you didn’t know what the future would hold, but for now, in this moment, you needed to let go of the fear. to let yourself trust him, fully.

“yeah,” you nodded, falling into the urge to rest your chin on his shoulder—your resolve finally melting.

balde chuckled, relaxedly. “that means you forgive me right?”

“i don’t know, your on a test for the rest of this week.” you hummed mockingly, although really, it wasn’t too bad of an idea.

alejandro shook his head disbelievingly, but deep down, he was just relieved that he had his best friend back, or even after this—something more than just friends.

the scrape on your knee had been healed, the wounds of the past, and he was the one who healed it.

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.

❦ - i knew you were trouble

summary:: you and kenans relationship is falling apart but you can’t help but love him amongst it all.

warnings:: angst

writers note:: i lowkey planned on finishing this series ages ago but i need to include kenan so here we are! and also a joao fic coming too from this series nd then i need to clear my inbox ! xx thank uu all for being so patient w me 😭

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

The bass reverberated through the club, low and steady, like the pulse in her ears as she watched him from across the room. Kenan leaned back against the bar, head tilted, an easy smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

He didn’t see her yet, or maybe he did, and he was pretending not to. That would be his style, wouldn’t it? To play with the tension like it was his own personal game, the stakes as unimportant to him as a casual flick of his wrist.

She knew better now. Too late, but she knew.

The first time they met, he was magnetic in a way she couldn’t quite explain. He didn’t have to try to be charming; it was effortless. His voice, low and smooth, carried promises that made her breath hitch without her even realizing it. He’d been trouble from the start, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it. Not then. Not until the shine faded and the jagged edges of his confidence started to cut.

Tonight, she thought, she’d walked in knowing exactly what she was walking into. She’d come here to end it. To look him in the eye, tell him she was done, and mean it. Yet now, standing there with the echo of his laughter cutting through the crowd, she faltered.

He turned. His gaze landed on her like he’d been waiting for her all along, and her stomach sank. That smile, infuriatingly self assured, spread wider, as though he already knew she wouldn’t follow through. He pushed away from the bar and crossed the room without hesitation, his stride slow but deliberate, like a hunter cornering his prey.

‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she said when he stopped in front of her. Her voice wavered, betraying her resolve.

Kenan tilted his head, studying her in that way he had that made her feel like he could see every thought she was trying to hide. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t be either,’ he said, his tone light, teasing. But there was a weight in his eyes that told her he wasn’t joking, not really.

She hated that he could do this. That he could stand there, so calm, so casual, while her chest burned with a thousand unsaid words. She hated that no matter how much she prepared herself, he always unraveled her in seconds.

‘You don’t even care, do you?’ she said, her voice sharper now. Anger was easier than the ache clawing at her chest. ‘You do what you want, say what you want, and then act surprised when everything falls apart.’

His expression didn’t change, but she saw the flicker of something in his eyes; guilt, maybe, or regret. ‘You’re wrong,’ he said, quietly this time. ‘I care more than you think.’

She didn’t believe him. Not anymore. But the way he reached for her hand, the way his thumb brushed over her knuckles, made her wonder if maybe she wanted to.

Maybe that was the real trouble; she didn’t want to let him go.

And he knew it.

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.🫶🏼

pls I’m begging for a Joao felix one with the prompts 5 and 6 from comfort and 9 from fluff and he’s like in the hospital for something and since he had lots of medication, he was very emotional 💗 sry for the specific request

Between Heartbeats~João Félix

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

5-“It’s okay to cry, I’ll be right here.”

6-“I wish I could take away all your pain.”

9-“Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up?”

The hospital room was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the machines and João’s uneven breathing.

His head rested against the pillows, his hazel eyes glassy and distant as the medication worked through his system.

The doctor had warned her he might be groggy, disoriented, and unusually emotional—and now, he was all three.

“You’re too good for me,” João mumbled, his voice thick and slurred. His hand fumbled across the blanket until it found hers, gripping it tightly.

“You do everything for me, and I just—” His lips trembled as his voice cracked. “I just sit here, making your life harder.”

Her heart twisted at his words. “João, that’s not true,” she said softly, leaning forward to stroke his damp hair. “My love, you’ve never made my life harder. Ever.”

“It is,” he insisted, his hazel eyes filling with tears.

“Why do you even love me? I don’t deserve you. You… you’re perfect. You’re my sunshine. Even when everything’s dark, you’re always shining.”

His lips quivered, and a tear slipped down his cheek. He sniffled, lifting his hand weakly to his face, confusion flickering across his features. “Why am I crying?” he asked, his voice breaking as more tears fell.

She leaned closer, cupping his cheek and brushing away the tears with her thumb. “It’s okay to cry, baby,” she whispered gently, her voice soft and reassuring. “I’ll be right here.”

João let out a shaky breath, his hand clumsily reaching to hold hers against his face.

“You always know what to say,” he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. “I love you so much, meu amor. I don’t tell you enough, but I do. I really, really do.” (my love)

Tears pricked her own eyes, but she blinked them away, focusing on him. “And I love you, João,” you said softly. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. Just rest, okay?”

He nodded weakly, but his expression suddenly contorted in pain, and he groaned, his hand moving to his ribs. “It hurts,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She felt a pang of helplessness. “Oh, meu querido,” she said, her voice breaking. “I wish I could take away all your pain. I’d do anything to make it better.” (my dear)

He opened his eyes and gave her a faint smile, despite the pain etched on his face. “You being here… that’s enough,” he murmured.

She leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering for a moment. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, taking his hand again.

“Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up?” he asked, his voice soft and pleading.

“I promise,” she said firmly, stroking his hair gently. “Now try to sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

His breathing began to even out as the medication pulled him under, though his grip on your hand remained firm. You stayed by his side, watching him until your own exhaustion took over, and you fell asleep with your head resting on the edge of the bed.

The first thing she felt was warmth—soft lips pressing against her temple, then her cheek. The faint scent of João’s cologne filled the air as she stirred awake.

“Morning, meu amor,” came his low, familiar voice, still rough from sleep but steadier than the night before.

She opened her eyes to find João leaning over her, his face inches from hers, a small smile tugging at his lips. His hazel eyes were clearer now, the pain from the night before replaced with a quiet warmth.

“João,” she breathed, sitting up quickly. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said, his voice soft. “A lot better.”

He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing her cheek. “You stayed,” he said quietly, as if in awe.

“Of course I did,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “I promised, didn’t I?”

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. It was slow and full of unspoken gratitude, leaving her breathless when he pulled back.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers.

“So are you, meu querido,” shr replied softly, a smile tugging at her lips.

João chuckled, his hand sliding to her waist to pull her closer. “I’m serious. I don’t know what I’d do without you, amor.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” she teased, her voice light but full of love.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, his lips lingering against hers as his hands traced slow, comforting patterns on her back. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses. “More than anything.”

“And I love you,” she whispered back, her heart swelling.

day 2 or 3 (pls lmk which) of sending joao reqs daily ::

WHAT IF you do one where joao is like kinda down at practice and he's not as energetic as usual and basically kinda being sleepy and sluggish ykyk

but then as SOON as he spots reader in the stands, my bro gets a sudden burst of energy from idk where like he is RUNNING at lighting speed, SCORING goals, etc...

so like everyone (teammates, coaches, etc..) are confused bc he was sluggish asl like two secs ago. then they look around and see that he disappeared off the pitch and is standing by the stands yapping to reader like tryna impress her and stuff yk?

up to you if they're together or if they're like crushing on each other?? idk yeah i trust you with it !! this was kinda shit but i took inspo from one of my joao c.ai bots

❦ - sorte.

warnings:: none.

writers notes:: ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR ME BECAUSE IVE ACTUALLY BRANG MYSELF AROUND TO FORMAT THESE MOTHERFUCKERS AND ILL POST THEM IN ORDER 💔.

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

it was another typical practice day, but something felt off. joão, usually full of energy and enthusiasm, was dragging his feet across the field. his usual charisma was nowhere to be found, and today, his drills were slow, almost sluggish. he yawned halfway through a pass, barely making it to the next marker. the energy around him seemed to dim as his teammates exchanged confused glances.

‘what’s up with him?’ one of them muttered, watching joão drag his feet. ‘he’s barely moving out there today.’

‘don’t know,’ another teammate replied, watching him half-heartedly chase after the ball. ‘maybe he’s tired. he’s been a bit off lately.’

coach watched from the sidelines, brow furrowed. he called out to joão, but his voice seemed lost in the haze of exhaustion that hung over him. joão gave a half hearted wave, signaling that he was okay, but it was obvious to everyone that he wasn’t.

just as coach was about to pull him aside for a quick chat, joão did something unexpected. his eyes shifted upwards, scanning the stands, and that’s when he saw you.

you were sitting there, casually leaning against the rail, watching the practice with a calm smile on your face. it was the way the sunlight hit your hair that made him freeze for a moment, as if everything around him stopped. suddenly, his exhaustion disappeared, replaced by a jolt of energy he hadn’t felt all day.

without even realizing it, he stood up straighter, his body vibrating with a sudden surge of energy. his tired movements were replaced by fluid, fast steps. the sluggishness was gone in an instant, as if someone had flicked a switch in his mind. his teammates stared in confusion as joão's speed picked up. he was sprinting down the field, dodging defenders left and right, his footwork impeccable.

‘wait, was that joão?’ one of the teammates asked, eyes wide as they watched him move at lightning speed. ‘wasn’t he just… completely out of it a second ago?’

in mere seconds, joão was at the goal, weaving around the goalkeeper with ease. he sent the ball flying into the back of the net, and the entire team froze in awe.

‘what just happened?’ another teammate muttered. ‘he was practically half-asleep a minute ago, and now he’s playing like this?’

but joão didn’t seem to care about the confusion. he was too focused on the one thing that mattered, you. with a grin on his face, he jogged towards the sideline, leaving his teammates in disbelief. they were still standing there, watching him with their jaws dropped as he sprinted off the pitch.

the coach called after him, but joão wasn’t listening. he was already making his way to the stands, jogging over to where you were sitting. his heart was racing in a way that had nothing to do with the sprint he’d just made. when he reached the rail, he leaned over, grinning like a schoolboy.

‘hey,’ he said, trying to catch his breath. ‘so… how did i do?’

you raised an eyebrow, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you looked up at him. ‘you’re asking me? you just made an amazing goal out there.’

‘well,’ he said, leaning in a little closer, ‘i was kind of distracted…’ he flashed you a playful grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. ‘but now that i’m here, i’m feeling pretty good.’

you laughed softly, shaking your head. ‘you’re something else, joão. i don’t know how you do it.’

he shrugged nonchalantly, still standing in front of you. ‘what can i say? sometimes a little bit of motivation can make a big difference.’

you chuckled, feeling your heart flutter at the way he was looking at you. his usual confidence was replaced by something else now, something softer, more endearing.

‘so,’ joão continued, eyes sparkling, ‘i think i need a proper celebration for that goal… maybe dinner later? what do you think?’

you smiled, your heart warming at his attempt to impress you. ‘sounds good to me,’ you said, your voice teasing. ‘but you might want to stay focused next time. you were looking a little sleepy out there earlier.’

‘i’ll be better next time,’ he promised with a wink, ‘especially if i know you’ll be watching.’

and with that, you both shared a quiet moment, the noise of the practice fading into the background as joão stood there, grinning like a fool, knowing that his energy had never come from the game, it came from you.

why is the cause of my sufferings a literal cat. this thing is a curse.

𝙵𝙸𝙵𝙰.

Antoine Griezmann Atletico Madrid icons + João Félix headers.

tag @km7bae if you're sv/using please.

i’m officially done w my current requests so please feel free to send more !! xx

ღ - WHO I WRITE FOR. 💕

okay so like the title is quite deceiving but also i wanna say like i will write for any footballers or f1 drivers (i love being a tifosi) anywho so i hope this helps when requesting bc i know some of you have been hesitant bc ydk who i write for!! 💓

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.