❦ - Back To You.

hiya!! could you write something for jamal Musiala about how you two being out and about in london, it’s a relatively warm spring day, you’re wearing a midi red polka dot dress, some docs paired with your miu miu ivy bag with cute charms on and jamal was wearing green baggy carhartt cargos, a black graphic tshirt, his go to black Nike cortez and a surpreme cap. You’re both wearing your matching jewelry (rosequartz bracelet) . His arm never leaves your waist, you’re snuggled into each other while walking and laughing about silly stuff your talking about or seeing on the street. You then go in for a kiss but his cap is in the way so he puts it on backwards, looking even more handsome, something about that backward cap is doing something to you, you quite frankly can’t stop staring and kissing him. in the middle of one kiss you’re getting interrupted by fans who want to take a picture, kindly accepting their request. You both have swollen and red lips from kissing and the most love sick smiles on your faces. Paparazzi and the internet goes crazy over you two.

Thank you :)

❦ - london days.

summary:: req says enough

warnings:: none.

writers notes:: idek what to say atp bro but it’s a cute concept i love it & also idk what happened but this didn’t save so this is rushed now

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the sun was shining brightly in london, a soft warmth filling the air as you strolled down the busy streets, hand in hand with jamal. it was one of those rare spring days where the warmth made everything feel light and easy. you couldn’t have asked for a better day.

you were both in your element, laughing, joking around, and just enjoying each other’s company. your red midi polka dot dress flowed gently around your legs as you walked, paired with your docs that added a little edge to your otherwise soft look. your miu miu ivy bag with its cute little charms swung lightly with every step. jamal, as always, looked effortlessly good. he was wearing his green baggy carhartt cargos, a black graphic t-shirt, and his usual black nike cortez. his supreme cap sat snugly on his head, completing the look.

but what made it all better was the way his arm never left your waist, how close he kept you, the way he pulled you into him like it was second nature. it was easy, familiar, like the most natural thing in the world.

‘you know,’ jamal said, a laugh in his voice, ‘i swear that guy just tried to sell me a “limited edition” air max for 500 pounds. i told him they weren’t even real’

you burst out laughing at the way he imitated the vendor, shaking your head. ‘you’re too nice, jamal. if i were you, i would’ve asked for a discount’

‘hey,’ he grinned, pulling you a little closer, ‘i’ve got a reputation to keep up. wouldn’t want to look too gullible’

you snorted, ‘right, right, so instead, you’re just gullible in a different way, got it’

he nudged you with his shoulder, his smile still wide. he made everything feel easy, like nothing in the world could go wrong as long as you were together.

as you turned a corner, the moment felt perfect. the streets of london were busy, but none of it really mattered. you were so wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world just faded into the background.

without thinking, you reached up to kiss him, but his cap got in the way, pressing against your forehead. he laughed, pulling back just enough to flip it backwards in one quick motion.

and something about that made you stop.

he somehow looked even better like this. the way the cap sat on his head, the effortless confidence in the way he adjusted it, your heart skipped a beat.

without thinking, you kissed him again, your hands finding their way to his face as he smiled against your lips. he kissed you back just as eagerly, his hands resting on your waist, holding you there like he never wanted to let go.

but then, just as you were completely lost in him, voices interrupted the moment.

‘excuse me, could we take a picture with you two?’

you pulled away, cheeks warm, lips slightly swollen. jamal looked at you, his expression just as dazed as yours, before turning to the fans with a grin.

‘of course’

they quickly snapped a few pictures, giggling and thanking you both. you tried to compose yourself, smoothing down your dress, though you could still feel the ghost of jamal’s lips on yours.

‘thanks for being so nice,’ one of them said, smiling as they walked away.

as soon as they were gone, you looked up at jamal. his lips were still a little red from kissing you, and his cheeks had a faint flush. he looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

‘you okay?’ you teased, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

he grinned, eyes soft. ‘yeah. just… getting used to this whole public couple thing’

you laughed, but you both knew it was true. the internet and paparazzi had already caught onto you two, and the pictures were probably spreading like wildfire. people loved the way you two looked together, how natural and real it seemed.

but none of that mattered. all that mattered was the way he was still holding onto you, how he wasn’t letting go.

you kept walking, still laughing, still holding each other close. the spring day had just gotten a whole lot better.

Hey could 6ou write something with cubarsi where the reader is introverted so she's to shy to confess so he has to do it

❦ - eres tímido.

warnings:: none.

writers notes:: respectfully i have nun to say 💔

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’ve liked pau for months.

and it’s not some loud, dramatic kind of thing, it’s quiet. gentle. the kind that lives in the way your chest tightens when he smiles at you, or how your voice softens whenever he walks into the room.

you sit next to him during group things, but never too close.
you text him sometimes, but always reread every message ten times before hitting send.
you laugh at his jokes, but only when you think he’s not looking.

you don’t flirt. you don’t know how.
you just… feel. deeply. quietly. maybe a little too much.

pau notices.

of course he does.

he’s not loud either. he’s calm. observant. thoughtful in the way he speaks and even more in the way he listens.

he picks up on the way your eyes linger a little too long.
the way you always remember the smallest things he says.
how you never look him in the eyes for too long, but when you do, you forget to breathe.

and he likes you. he’s sure of it.
he just doesn’t know why you won’t say anything.

one afternoon, it’s just the two of you walking home. it’s raining a little, and he shares his hoodie with you, just like always.

your hands brush. once. twice.

then you pull away.

and he stops walking.

‘you’re not gonna say anything, are you?’

you blink. heart racing. ‘about what?’

pau turns to face you, eyes soft but steady.
‘about how you look at me like i’m your favorite book you’re too scared to open.’

your throat goes dry.

you want to run. hide. dissolve.

but instead you whisper, ‘i didn’t think you’d want me like that.’

and pau just exhales, like he’s been waiting for you to say something, and steps closer.

‘i’ve been waiting for you to say that for weeks.’

he doesn’t rush it.

he doesn’t grab your hand or kiss you right there on the street.

he just smiles, tucks a piece of wet hair behind your ear, and says,

‘next time you’re scared to say how you feel… just look at me. i’ll get it. i promise.’

and you do.

and he does.

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.

All I Want - (João Felix) Sweetmas

Warnings- FLUFF, Christmas love, puppy lovers only

“João! Wake up!” You yelled, jumping up and down on yours and your boyfriend’s shared bed. “Huh? Wha-“ Before he could finish his sentence, you kissed him. “Morning, baby. It’s Christmas.” He smiled and nodded “I have something for you… I think you’ll like.” Your smile widens to a grin, jumping off of the bed, “Lead the way!” He chuckled and got out of bed, throwing a shirt on and fixing his hair. “Let’s go.” He grabbed your hand, leading you through the silent house into the living room. “See that box?” There was a big box with a big, red bow. “Yeah?” He smiled and nudged you towards the tree, “Open it.” You giggled and walked over to the tree, looking back at João before crouching down and slowly unwrapping the bow around the box. You slowly lifted the lid, revealing a golden, small figure. It jumped out of the box, that’s when you realized- “IT’S A PUPPY!” He laughed and nodded, smiling so bright and sitting on the couch. “João! You got me a puppy?!” You exclaimed, petting the puppy on your lap. “A golden retriever.” He said, sitting on the floor next to you, “You like it?” You nodded in response, kissing his cheek. “Your too sweet.” He chuckled and brushed some hair out of your face, “Only for you, amore.” He sighed, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I love you.” You said, holding his face. “I love you too. You make Christmas so much more better.” And that was THE best Christmas that you two ever had. You, João, and your new baby.

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

Maybe?

Perhaps?

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

❦ - unexpected but never a problem.

summary:: what the req says.

warnings:: nooooone? cussing i think…?

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

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

you realize it too late.

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

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

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

but the worst part? you know what happens next.

or, at least, you think you do.

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

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

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

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

then he stops walking.

‘okay, what’s wrong?’

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

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

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

your silence lasts a second too long.

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

your heart pounds.

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

but then he’s shrugging off his jacket.

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

your breath catches.

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

you blink. ‘…what?’

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

he’s not mad. he’s not annoyed.

he’s just helping.

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

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

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

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

his brow furrows. ‘who told you that?’

you freeze.

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

and hector sees it.

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

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

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

hector smirks. ‘there she is.’

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

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

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

Hey! I've been thinking about this for so long, but I'm not the best person to write it. Your writing is honestly amazing, I love everything you write. ❤️

It's with Kenan, where the reader had a reservation at a restaurant, but when she arrived, it seemed like the place was completely full, and there was no table available for her reservation (she was going with a friend). On the same day, Kenan had also reserved a table with his friends. When a table finally becomes available, there's a mix-up, and the staff mistakenly assumes that the reader and Kenan are a couple.

❦ - table for 2.

summary:: you and your bestfriend book a reservation at a very high end restaurant which happens to be quite full. in the end your bestfriend leaves you for a pizza place leaving you w kenan but who knew what it would lead to.

warnings:: quite fast paced && idek if it makes sense bc i finished writing this at like 2am

writers note:: idek atp like this fic was lowkey rushed but i think it sounds good! also i love how kenan girls are requesting fics from me now i love writing for him!

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

it was supposed to be a simple night out with a friend. you’d made the reservation two weeks in advance at the new restaurant everyone was raving about. but standing by the entrance, you knew something was off. the lobby was packed, people shifting on their feet, checking their phones, glancing toward the hostess stand.

'hi, i had a reservation for two?' you asked. your friend beside you sighed, already imagining takeout.

the hostess scanned the list, frowning. 'we’re a bit behind. a table should open soon, but… it might be a while.'

just then, a voice beside you said, 'same boat?' you turned to see a man, tall, casually dressed, a charmingly crooked smile on his face.

'yeah,' you muttered. 'reservations apparently mean nothing.'

'kenan,' he offered, sticking out a hand. you shook it, introducing yourself.

before you could say more, the hostess called, 'table for two?' both you and kenan stepped forward. awkward pause. 'oh… there's just one table left,' she said, flustered.

kenan glanced at you. 'wanna share? i’m starving.'

your stomach answered before you could. 'sure. but i’m not sharing fries.'

you laughed over menus and drinks. kenan joked about restaurant chaos, you told a story about a disastrous brunch, and conversation flowed. dessert appeared without anyone ordering it, “chef’s treat," the server winked. then came the bill, with "couple’s night discount" scrawled on it.

'we’re not…’ you started.

'thanks, we’ll take it,' kenan grinned.

outside, the cool night air wrapped around you. 'weird night,' you said.

'but fun, right?' kenan asked. 'drink next door? keep the randomness going?'

hesitation flickered, but then you smiled. 'why not?'

the bar next door was cozy, lit with soft amber lights. kenan ordered two drinks, bright, suspicious-looking things. 'trust me,' he said.

'questionable choices already,' you teased. but the first sip was surprisingly good.

banter turned to stories, childhood pranks, travel mishaps. someone started a darts game. kenan’s eyes lit up. 'you in?'

'only if you’re ready to lose.'

the game was close, playful insults flying. you won by a sliver. 'pay up,' you smirked.

'rigged,' kenan grumbled, handing over the promised drink. by midnight, you were laughing over karaoke sign ups, belting out terrible renditions of classic songs. when you stumbled out into the night, your cheeks hurt from smiling.

'best worst idea,' you said.

'glad you didn’t bail,' kenan replied. his gaze lingered, a spark of something there, but he didn’t push. 'see you around?'

'yeah,' you said. 'see you.'

texts followed. casual. easy. "darts rematch?" "only if you’re ready to lose worse." nights blurred into late conversations, drinks, inside jokes. one evening, kenan said, 'there’s this street fair tomorrow. you in?'

'aren’t we seeing too much of each other?' you teased.

'guess you’ll have to deal with it.'

the fair was chaotic and colorful. kenan insisted on winning you a ridiculous plush toy, failed three times, finally succeeding with a triumphant cheer. 'worth the humiliation,' he grinned.

you spent the day weaving through stalls, eating questionable fried foods, sharing stories you hadn’t planned to tell. by sunset, standing under string lights, kenan brushed a stray hair from your face. 'this okay?' he asked.

part of you wanted to deflect. joke. but instead, you nodded. 'yeah.'

he kissed you. warm, a little tentative. your hands found his jacket, pulling him closer. when you parted, he rested his forehead against yours. 'been wanting to do that,' he murmured.

'figured,' you whispered back.

things shifted after that, but not in a bad way. coffee dates, movie nights, shared glances that said more than words could. kenan had a habit of stealing your fries; you had a habit of pretending to be mad. weekends became a blur of spontaneous plans, hiking trails, lazy mornings, dancing in your living room to terrible playlists.

one evening, curled up on his couch, kenan asked, 'so... what are we?' his tone was light, but his gaze searched yours.

'you’re really gonna be that guy?' you teased.

'just... wanna know where we stand,' he said, softer.

'we’re... this,' you said, gesturing between you. 'whatever this is, it’s good.'

he smiled, pulling you closer. 'yeah. it is.'

days turned into weeks. it wasn’t perfect, kenan forgot plans once, you snapped during a stressful week; but apologies came easy, laughter always returned. you met his friends; they teased him mercilessly. he met yours; they warned him not to screw it up.

one lazy sunday morning, tangled in blankets, kenan murmured, 'funny how a restaurant screw up started this.'

'best mix up ever,' you said, tracing patterns on his chest.

he caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. 'glad you didn’t walk away that night.'

'glad you asked me to share a table.'

he grinned. 'felt like fate.'

'maybe it was.'

a month later, it felt like you’d known him longer. date nights became routine, but never boring. kenan found ways to surprise you: a picnic under city lights, tickets to that band you offhandedly mentioned liking. you, in turn, found yourself thinking of him in quiet moments, buying his favorite snacks, sending him memes that made you laugh.

one evening, after a dinner that involved too much wine and a dessert neither of you needed, you found yourselves on your couch. kenan played with the hem of your shirt, gaze thoughtful. 'so... think we’re officially a thing?' he asked.

you smirked. 'been acting like it.'

'yeah, but, labels and all that.'

you kissed him, slow and lingering. 'yeah, kenan. we’re a thing.'

his grin was immediate, infectious. 'good. wasn’t planning on letting you go anyway.'

'better not,' you teased.

later, as you drifted off with your head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back, you thought about that first night, the chaos, the awkwardness, the unexpected twist. funny how life worked. how one mix-up led to this.

and god, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

hector fort with a sassy/bossy girlfriend who is actually a sweetheart🥹 like yes she will make something out of nothing- but she also give the softest praise when she wants to?

❦ - my favourite player.

summary:: you’re hector’s sassy girlfriend (with kindness 😛)

warnings:: it’s like not a proper fic yk? it’s just a ton of scenarios but too long for headcannons idek atp

writers note:: IM SO INCONSISTENT W POSTING I NEED TO START POSTING THESE AS SSON AS IM DONE WRITING OMDS THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS FOR HOURS.

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

hector fort never really knew what hit him when he started dating you. you walked into his life like a storm, sharp tongue, quick comebacks, and a look that could cut through steel, but underneath that bossy, sassy exterior, you were the biggest softie he’d ever met.

he learned that early on. like the first time you two went out and he showed up three minutes late. three.

‘oh, so you thought i didn’t deserve punctuality?’ you’d said, arms crossed, hip cocked to the side. ‘is that what we’re doing now, fort?’

he scrambled with apologies, cheeks red, swearing traffic was worse than usual. you just sighed, looped your arm through his, and murmured, ‘relax, i’m messing with you. but you are paying for dessert. non-negotiable.’

he never minded paying, especially when you’d grin at him over your ice cream, that spark in your eyes softening just a bit. and god, when you’d say things like, ‘you’re lucky you’re cute,’ it did things to him he didn’t know how to explain.

but it wasn’t just the teasing. it was how you supported him, how you believed in him even when he didn’t believe in himself. after that match he’d been kicking himself over for days, missed shots, sloppy passes, you cornered him in his apartment, hands on your hips.

‘hector fort, if you don’t stop beating yourself up, i swear—’ you cut yourself off, softened. stepped closer and cupped his face, fingers warm against his skin. ‘baby, you played so well. everyone has off days. i’m proud of you.’

he melted. every damn time.

sometimes, you’d get worked up over the smallest things, like when your coffee order was wrong. ‘how hard is it to do two pumps of vanilla, not three? i’m not asking for rocket science.’ you’d huff, glance at him, and when you caught him grinning, you’d roll your eyes. ‘...whatever. wanna sip?’

he loved that you’d fight anyone and anything, but when it came to him? you handled him with care. your bossiness wasn’t mean, it was protective. you demanded respect for yourself, for him, for the people you cared about. you were fire and warmth all at once.

and hector? he’d never been happier to stand in the middle of that fire.

it was in the little things, too. the texts before his matches, ‘score a goal for me, baby. or don’t. you’re still my favorite.’ the way you’d pull him aside after a rough day and say, ‘c’mere, let me fix your hair. you look like you fought a tornado,’ fingers gentle as you smoothed back his curls.

but nothing compared to the quiet moments. like when you thought he was asleep, and you’d whisper, ‘love you, y’know? so much it’s stupid.’ like he didn’t hear you. like he didn’t tuck those words away, holding them close on the nights he missed you the most.

hector fort knew you were a lot. sassy, bossy, dramatic. but god, he wouldn’t trade it for anything. because beneath all that, you were his soft place to land. his person.

and if you wanted to make something out of nothing, throw a fit over a late pizza delivery or a movie starting five minutes past the showtime? fine. he’d let you. hell, he’d stand right beside you and complain too.

as long as, at the end of the day, he still got to be the one you smiled at like that. the one you whispered those soft, precious things to when you thought no one was listening.

because you, with all your fire and sass and sweetness, you were everything.

pau cubarsí x reader where instead of holding hands she holds onto his bicep as it grounds and make her feel safe. it’s become almost second nature and pau’s teammates pick up on it and how protective and sweet he gets when she does it x

❦ - attached by the arms.

summary:: holding onto his bicep became a habit for you. you thought nobody would notice but EVERYONE did. however your boyfriend doesn’t mind it a single bit.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: uhm shoutout to @cherryloveshs bc she’s lowkey come to the point where i’m holding her hostage for child labour?? honestly idgaf 😛😛. she’s my favourite little girl for doing my mood boards bc i’m lazy asf but anyways that’s her honourable mention over! i love these reqs yall are so creative!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

pau cubarsí wasn’t the most openly affectionate person in public, but with you, things were different. it had started so naturally that neither of you really noticed at first, whenever you walked together, whether through the streets of barcelona or into the camp nou before a match, your hand would find its place gently wrapped around his bicep. not clinging, not pulling, just holding.

at first, he thought nothing of it. maybe you just liked the feeling, or maybe it was instinct. but over time, he started to realise, whenever you were nervous, when crowds got too loud, when the world felt a little too fast, you’d do it without thinking. and every single time, he felt the way your body eased beside him, like just that small connection was enough to ground you.

the team noticed too.

‘she does that a lot, huh?’ fermín lópez mused one day as they walked into the stadium, nodding toward your hand resting securely against pau’s arm.

pau glanced down at you, completely unaware of the conversation happening about you, just focused on whatever thought had settled in your head, and then back up at fermín.

‘yeah. she does.’ ronald araújo smirked. ‘you don’t seem to mind.’

he didn’t. if anything, it made something warm settle in his chest. he never brought it up, never teased you about it, never asked you why, he just let you do it, let you hold onto him when you needed to, and in return, he made sure you never had a reason to let go.

and the others noticed that too. the way his hand would naturally drift to your lower back when walking through crowds. how he subtly adjusted his pace to match yours. the way his expression softened when he looked down at you, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist for that moment.

‘he’s whipped,’ ferran torres whispered to gavi during training one day.

‘no, he’s just in love,’ gavi muttered back, watching as pau instinctively leaned down when you spoke to him, giving you his full attention.

and maybe that was it. maybe it was love. maybe it was something else entirely. but whatever it was, pau knew one thing, whenever you reached for him, he’d always be there.

hiii if you don’t mind could you please do a joao felix fic where they do the loyal chris brown dance trend bc i feel like it would be really funny 😭

tiktok trouble

⋆·˚ ༘ * - joao felix

masterlist

summary: João hilariously nails the Loyal TikTok dance, turning a joke into viral gold and leaving you laughing at his over-the-top moves and newfound TikTok fame.

It had started out as a joke.

You were scrolling through TikTok on the couch while João sat beside you, engrossed in a FIFA match on his phone. The Loyal dance trend popped up on your for you page, and you couldn’t help but snort.

“What’s so funny?” João asked, glancing over.

You turned the screen to show him the video. A guy was doing the dramatic, exaggerated moves to Chris Brown’s “Loyal,” complete with the smug smirk and pointed finger.

João squinted at it, his brows knitting together. “What is that?”

“It’s a TikTok trend,” you explained, grinning. “You’re supposed to act all cocky and over-the-top while doing the dance. It’s hilarious.”

João tilted his head, watching the guy on screen. “That’s supposed to be dancing?”

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

João smirked, leaning back on the couch. “I don’t need to try it. I already know I’d be better.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

That’s how you found yourself setting up your phone in the living room, the familiar opening beat of “Loyal” echoing off the walls.

João stood across from you, hands on his hips and a playful gleam in his eye. “So, I just... follow you?”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep a straight face. “But you have to sell it. Smirk, point, the whole thing.”

He rolled his eyes but nodded. The music started, and you launched into the moves—puffing out your chest, pointing at the imaginary crowd, and pretending to be the cockiest person alive.

João hesitated at first, mimicking your moves with a sheepish grin. But as the beat dropped, something shifted. He leaned into it, throwing in exaggerated spins and finger guns, his face set in a ridiculous “too cool for this” expression.

You couldn’t hold it together. “Oh my God, João!” you choked out between laughs, doubling over as he pointed at you like a music video star.

“What?” he said, feigning innocence. “I’m nailing it!”

“You’re so bad!”

“I thought the point was to be bad,” he shot back, grinning. “It’s called acting.”

By the second take, João was completely in his element. He strutted toward the camera, flipping an invisible jacket and winking at your reflection in the TV screen.

“You’re taking this too seriously!” you cried, clutching your stomach.

“Not seriously enough,” he replied, spinning dramatically.

When you finally uploaded the TikTok, you captioned it: “I created a monster 😭 #LoyalChallenge”.

Within hours, the video blew up.

The comments rolled in:

"João really said main character energy."

"Why is he actually killing it though??"

"This is the most unserious footballer on the planet."

"I need to see this on the pitch. Now."

João couldn’t stop laughing as he read through the comments, his head resting on your shoulder. “See? I told you I’d be better at it than you.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

João pressed a kiss to your temple, his laughter softening into a fond grin. “Admit it. You had fun.”

You sighed dramatically. “Fine. But next time, we’re doing one of my trends.”

“Deal,” João said, already pulling up the TikTok app. “But only if I get to be the star again.”

You rolled your eyes, but you knew you wouldn’t trade this moment—or João’s ridiculous dancing—for anything.

could you please please please write a cute fic about joão x reader and it’s like reader is graduating university or something but joão has a game so he can’t make it so then reader is annoyed at his but he ends up ditching his game for her🥺😫

love your writing so much!!!!

❦ - priorities.

summary:: atp i’m gonna stop summarising it bc the req is lit the summary 💔.

warnings:: none

writers note:: i’m not writing these in order i’m lit doing in in whatever’s easiest bc i have LOADS in my drafts that i need to finish but im setting it aside bc it’s ramadan

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the moment you saw the text, your heart sank.

joão: babe, i’m so sorry, but i can’t make it to your graduation.

you stared at your phone, reading the message over and over, hoping it would somehow change.

you knew this was a possibility. football was his career, his life, and sometimes that meant missing important things. but this? this wasn’t just anything. this was your day. the one day you wanted him there more than anything.

you: seriously?
you: joão, this is my graduation.

three dots appeared. then disappeared. then reappeared again.

joão: i know, amor. i hate this. but it’s an important game.

you clenched your jaw, shoving your phone into your pocket before you said something you’d regret.

fine. whatever.

if he wanted to put football first, that was his choice.

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

you went through the motions, getting dressed, fixing your cap, taking photos with your family, but your heart wasn’t in it. the whole time, you kept thinking about how there should’ve been an extra seat saved for joão. how he should’ve been there, cheering for you, smiling at you with that proud look he always got when you accomplished something big.

instead, he was miles away, playing a game that would happen a hundred more times, while you only graduated once.

but fine. fine.

you weren’t going to let this ruin your day.

except.

when you walked onto the stage, shaking hands, accepting your diploma, when you looked out into the crowd, scanning the faces,

you saw him.

right there, sitting between your parents, looking slightly out of breath but beaming at you like you’d just won the champions league.

your steps faltered. for a second, you thought you were imagining it. but no—he was there.

your stomach flipped. your heart pounded. and then you had to keep moving, walking off the stage, back to your seat, your mind reeling the entire time.

he ditched his game.

for you.

after the ceremony, you found him before he could find you.

‘you’re insane,’ you said, staring at him.

joão grinned. ‘nice to see you too, grad.’

‘joão.’ you crossed your arms. ‘you had a game.’

‘yeah,’ he shrugged. ‘but you had this.’

your heart melted. ‘but your coach—’

‘will kill me? probably,’ he admitted. ‘but i don’t care. this was more important.’

and just like that, every ounce of frustration you’d felt earlier vanished.

because this was what mattered. not the missed game, not the schedule conflicts—just this. him choosing you.

so instead of arguing, you did what you’d been wanting to do all day.

you kissed him.

right there, in the middle of the crowd, with your diploma still clutched in your hand.

and when you pulled back, breathless, joão just smiled.

‘congrats, amor.’