❦ - La Rainha De Cobham

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.

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 ─ HF³⁹

౨ৎ ─ summary | pretty self explanator once again, hector hard launches you!!!! yayaya! this was requested -> hard launch with hector fort pls🙏🏻"

─ warnings | very short!!!!!! joao/magui slander (i'm sorry king i love u, #justice4joao), marc/hector bromance, SO MUCH HUMOUR LIKE IDK IF ITS FUNNY OR NOT, but i giggled writing it so... pretty much nothing else but cuteness

─ ev's notes | i love hector sm, this was so fun to make!!!!!!!!

hctorforrt_ barcelona, spain

Liked by marcguiu9, pablogavi, joaofelix79 and 128,204 more

hctorforrt_ | blessed march 1st, 2024

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joaofelix79 | GOOD😭😭 FOR 😭😭 YOU 😭😭😭

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pablogavi | nice pictures brother 👌🏼🌅

↳ hctorforrt_ love you brother💛

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barcelonafc | new fav barca couple❤️💙

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↳ yourusername HE BLEEDS BLUE AND RED!

↳ marcguiu9 USA USA USA USA

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

can u write smth where the reader is so short than pablo *she is 149cm and he is 173* and maybe u can add how his guys say to him he is lucky because he is already short *poor gavi* i think it will be kind of as headcanons

thank you if u did tho ❤❤

santa's helper

credits to the owner!

summary: you're on the christmas market with gavi

warnings: none

pairing: pablo gavi x fem!reader

a/n: i little changed this, but i hope that you'll like it! and tysm 💞

taglist: @joaosnovia, @barcapix

requests are open!

masterlist

The most awaited time of the year for you has come - Christmas. Like every year, you planned to go to the Christmas market in beautifully decorated Barcelona, but this year with a special guest, your boyfriend.

You met Gavi at the beginning of this year and you quickly established a bond that became stronger every day, until today, where you have been a couple for nine months.

What charmed Gavi most about you was your height. You were so tiny next to him, which was good for him because he wasn't very tall either, and you were the perfect height for him, as if you were made just for him.

This was also the reason why he loved teasing you. Whether it was resting his elbow on your head or lifting your things above him while you jumped around trying to reach them and he laughed.

He loved that about you. You never got angry at him for mocking you because you knew he loved you. But you'll never admit to him that you like it.

Today was no different. You were walking hand in hand on a December evening between the stands, here with Christmas decorations, here with food, here there was absolutely everything.

Pablo fully dressed from head to toe, just so no one would recognize him, wanting to spend quality time with you, and you looking so cute and beautiful next to him, wearing black earmuffs, and a black coat, with your hair flowing freely down your shoulders. You were pulling on his hand like a little kid in a toy store.

He kept giggling at you as you jumped excitedly on the Christmas decorations, constantly talking, and he hung on your every word.

At one point you passed a stand with balloons, which you looked at, of course, and Pablo followed your gaze. When he saw them, an idea came to his mind.

“Wait a minute” he said, then turned back.

You stood still, looking at him strangely, and your gaze changed between confusion and excitement as he walked back towards you, balloon in hand.

“Give me your hand” he said and you gave him your hand.

He tied a red ribbon from balloon around your wrist that represented a gingerbread man. You looked at him questioningly.

“You won't get lost now, dwarf” he grinned at you, and you looked at him with pity as he just chuckled.

You started giggling yourself, blushing slightly at the small gift he gave you.

“Thank you, cariño” you said, then stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, but he tilted his chin up so that you couldn't reach his lips.

You became outraged and then walked away from him, and he laughed even more when he saw only a bouncing balloon above the crowd, but not you. He found you after a moment, kissing your cheek in surprise, making you narrow your eyes at him.

“Don't be mad at me anymore, amor” he said, kissing the top of your head. "So where are we going now? These are our last moments together, we need to spend them well" he said, and you started to wonder what he meant.

"What are these our last moments? What are you talking about?" you asked and he just laughed.

"It's sad that you short people have to help Santa Claus with presents during this period" he faked crying. "I'll have to hand you over to the rest of the elves, amor" he said, making a sad face, and you frowned angrily.

He laughed out loud at your angry but very cute face. To him, you looked like the cutest angry hamster in the world. You just snorted at his behavior and then moved to the next stand.

There were many jokes about your height that evening, but you wouldn't exchange it for anything else, because in it all there was the love you were looking for for so long and you just found it with Pablo <3

hii, i just start read you fic, and i love them. and can you maybe make a story of y/n and Guille Fernandez, where they are old friend, but haven't seen each other for years, but she chooses to go to Barcelona to surprise him. a cute ending.

❦ - back to you.

summary:: you and guille have always been bestfriends but you had to move away. ever since then he’s all you could think about to the point you couldn’t take it anymore and you came right back.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: i’m sorry this is really rushed i really need to extend my fics bc this is more of a blurb icl but i hope you guys like it nonetheless!

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

the plane lands with a soft jolt, and you grip the armrest, heart thumping. it’s been years. too many. your pulse quickens as you gather your bag, feet moving on autopilot through the terminal. barcelona greets you with golden warmth, the kind that sinks into your skin and settles there, familiar and comforting. the air smells the same too: sea salt, roasting chestnuts, and the faint hint of blooming jasmine wafting from somewhere beyond the airport doors.

your phone buzzes in your pocket. a text from guille lights up the screen: meeting ran late. might just crash when i get home. today’s been brutal. you smile, thumb hovering over the keyboard. should you respond? hint at what’s coming? no. that’d ruin the whole point. you tuck your phone away, nerves simmering beneath your excitement.

the cab ride is a blur of winding streets and familiar sights. balconies overflow with potted plants, and the hum of city life pulses at every corner, laughter, footsteps, distant music echoing through the alleys. barcelona feels like a memory you’re stepping back into, equal parts comfort and surprise. maybe it’s the city that’s changed. maybe it’s you. maybe it’s him.

your thoughts drift to the last time you saw him, five years ago. rushed goodbyes at an airport terminal. promises to stay in touch that slowly dissolved. guille had been a constant back then, the anchor to your storm. funny how some people hold onto a part of you, even when time stretches thin between meetings.

the driver pulls up to his building, and you thank him, nerves twisting tighter. the graffiti along the side wall is still there, same colors, same shapes. the bakery on the corner glows warmly, scent of fresh bread curling through the cool evening air. you inhale deeply, letting it wrap around you like a hug. some things never change.

you pause at his door, fingers hesitating before you knock. quick. sharp. footsteps shuffle on the other side, and then – a pause. the lock clicks. the door creaks open.

his hair’s longer, scruffier. but those eyes; the same warm blonde, widen with disbelief. ‘what the hell?’ his voice is caught somewhere between a laugh and a breathless exhale.

‘surprise,’ you grin, nerves melting beneath the weight of his gaze.

‘you’re here,’ he breathes out, blinking as if you might vanish. his hand reaches forward, fingertips brushing yours. ‘god, you should’ve told me.’

‘and ruin the surprise?’

he laughs, loud, bright, the kind that pulls at something deep in your chest. ‘get in here.’

inside, his apartment is a blend of clutter and comfort. books stacked haphazardly. a guitar propped against the couch. the place smells like coffee and cedarwood. he runs a hand through his hair, still dazed. ‘seriously, what? how long are you here for?’

‘depends,’ you shrug. ‘how much coffee can you promise me?’

hours later, you end up at the beach, shoes kicked off, waves cool against your ankles. the city hums behind you, music, conversation, life carrying on while the sky melts into a watercolor of pinks and oranges. conversation flows easily. you swap stories, trade laughter, filling the spaces where years had crept in. it’s seamless. natural. like no time passed at all.

he bends to pick up a pebble, flinging it into the surf. ‘remember that summer we got lost trying to find that lighthouse?’

‘you mean you got us lost,’ you shoot back.

‘hey, i was following your map!’

‘my map didn’t tell you to wander into someone’s backyard.’

laughter bubbles up between you, shoulders bumping. the sky deepens into indigo, stars beginning to prickle the horizon. silence settles, comfortable and warm. his gaze shifts to you, softer now. ‘i missed you,’ he says, quiet but certain.

your heart tugs, something tender and familiar unfurling. ‘yeah. me too.’

he reaches for your hand. no hesitation. fingers slip between yours, fitting like they always have. the waves hush against the shore, and for a moment, it’s just this, just him, just you.

‘so,’ he murmurs, glancing over. ‘you staying a while?’

you squeeze his hand, smile tugging at your lips. ‘yeah. i think i will.’

you walk back through winding streets bathed in amber light, shoes dangling from free hands. laughter drifts from nearby cafés. someone strums a guitar overhead, notes floating down from a balcony. the city stretches out around you; vast and intimate all at once.

later, you sit side by side on his balcony, mugs of tea warming your hands. barcelona sprawls before you, glittering under the night sky. he leans back in his chair, casting you a sidelong glance. ‘can’t believe you’re really here.’

you rest your head against his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping. ‘me neither.’

the night folds in close, warm, familiar, as if the universe is whispering: this is where you’re meant to be.

jealous kenan about his teammates finding you attractive and his rival team so he’s not playing good until the last bit and when reader comes down to the pitch she just gives her a hungry kiss to show everybody she’s takin

❦ - the love of italia.

summary:: kenan finding out that almost the whole of italy put him off his game by a lot, eventually motivating him to do better.

warnings:: none

writers note:: thing is, i wrote this as soon as i got the req (ages ago) before ramadan thinking that i’d be able to post it before then but life had other plans so khalas, the haram police can’t catch me because i wrote this BEFORE ramadan.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

kenan yildiz was not having a good game.

it wasn’t because he was out of form, or tired, or struggling tactically. no, kenan was playing like shit because his mind was elsewhere. specifically, on you.

it had started before kickoff. you’d come to support him, looking effortlessly good in one of his old juventus hoodies, the sleeves hanging past your fingers, your hair falling just right. that alone would’ve been enough to distract him, but what really set him off was the way his teammates, and worse, the opposing team, had noticed.

‘so that’s your girl, huh?’ one of his teammates had asked in the locker room, nodding toward where you were chatting with some staff near the stands. ‘damn. didn’t know you were pulling like that.’

kenan had just given him a look.

then, during warmups, he caught some of the other team’s players also looking. one even had the audacity to say something to him as they passed.

‘number 10’s playing for more than just three points today, huh?’

kenan clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might crack.

from that moment on, he was done for.

it was obvious from the first whistle, kenan was off.

his passes were sloppy. his first touch was heavier than usual. he missed chances he’d normally bury without thinking. and every time someone from the rival team got near him, talking just enough shit for the ref not to hear, his blood boiled a little more.

‘what’s up with yildiz today?’ the commentators were already talking about it.

his coach was yelling from the sidelines. his teammates were trying to snap him out of it. but nothing worked. because every time he looked up, there you were, beautiful, perfect, and completely oblivious to the chaos happening in his head.

it wasn’t until the last few minutes of the game that something finally clicked.

it was still 0-0. they had one last attack. the ball came to kenan’s feet, and for the first time all game, his frustration sharpened into something useful.

he drove forward, weaving past defenders like they weren’t even there. everything else faded. the noise, the tension, the trash talk, it didn’t matter. all that mattered was getting this goal.

and he did.

a clean strike. bottom corner. unstoppable.

the stadium erupted. his teammates surrounded him, yelling, pulling him into hugs. but kenan barely reacted. his celebration was already planned.

his eyes went straight to you.

the second the final whistle blew, you made your way down to the pitch. you weren’t even thinking, you just knew you had to get to him.

by the time you reached the field, kenan was already waiting. his jersey was damp with sweat, his breathing still heavy, but his eyes were locked onto you like you were the only person in the world.

‘kenan, that goal—’

you didn’t get to finish. because the moment you were close enough, he grabbed you. one hand firm on your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck. and then he kissed you.

not just any kiss, a statement.

it was possessive, like he wanted to make sure every single person watching, his teammates, his rivals, the entire damn stadium, knew exactly who you belonged to.

you barely registered the cheers (and teasing whistles) from his teammates. all you could focus on was kenan, his body pressed against yours, the way his fingers dug into your waist.

when he finally pulled back, his expression unreadable.

‘you’re mine,’ he muttered, voice low enough for only you to hear.

your breath caught. but before you could even think of a response, he smirked, like he already knew the answer. like he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

and honestly? he was right.

get him back

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: jimena sees her ex at a party. she does not shy away from the reunion.

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

Jimena did not leave her home with the idea of ending up tangled on Gavi's sheets. She did not even think of meeting him when she met her friends at the only club in her small town. It was just some local festivity, and all the young people had had the same idea.

Jimena wanted to get drunk, find a nice guy to make out with and disappear into the night with her friends. But rumours spread fast, and soon she caught wind of who was also at the club.

Gavi wasn't known for going to parties, Jimena wa pretty sure that the last time he had stepped on this same club had been by her side, when they were still dating and his debut in first division was still a dream.

Jimena had reached a point in which she did not think of him for longer than she needed to. Only when the World Cup happened, she saw his face evrywhere she went. And she knew everyone around her saw him too. Jimean felt the glances everyone directed at her whenever something newsworthy happened.

Gavi socred a goal for Spain? The guys at the bar noticed if she celebrated or not. There were rumours that prnicess Leonor had a crush on him? Some lady at the supermarket asked her what it was like to have had what the royalty wanted. Even when he got injured, some tried to ask her if he was alright.

Gavi and Jimena had broken up before he even made it to the first team. She wanted to be someone's first choice, and his first choice would always be Barcelona, or the countless hot girls he had been rumoured to be dating.

As insidious as it was, Jimena was glad that the general public considered some random tiktoker to be Gavi's first love: if it was already annoying to be known as his ex only in their small town, she could not concieve how much bullshit she woud have to go through if the rest of the world knew.

However, Jimena was completely over Gavi. She had cried all the tears she had to, she had buried their pictures in a box and kissed half a dozen of other boys as a rebound. Her eyes should not linger on his silouhette when she finally spotted him, the lights of the club reflecting on his clothes. Her heart should not beat when she found his gaze already on her.

Jimena turned around, searching for Nacho. He was a guy she had been stringing around for a while, who she had no intention to actually date, but who would be perfect for her half threader plan.

Nacho was not too far away. He always made a point of being close to Jimena, and when her very famous ex was around, it was not the time to slack off.

Nacho's hand fell on her hip, covered by a shirt purple dress. The Jimena Gavi knew would not have worn something so daring, but the Gavi Jimena knew would not have shown up at the club on his own volition.

Nacho pressed their bodies together, swaying at the rhythm of the baf quality song that was on the TOP50, while his eyes lifted up.

"Your ex is staring," he said. Jimena sighed. She didn't need to look up to know, she could feel the weight of Gavi's eyes on her skin.

"I imagine he is," she said, non-committal.

"I can't believe I am going to sleep with Gavi's ex," he said. Jimena froze in place. That sentence did not sit well with her.

"Excuse me?"

"It's like, the biggest power trip of my life."

Jimena took a step froward trying to get rid of Nacho's hands on her body.

"Actually, I don't think this is a good idea..."

"Aw, c'mon! You're going to leave me like this?"

"I don't want to..." insisted Jimena, taking another step away and clashing with someone.

"I would advice you to leave the girl alone."

Gavi.

His voice was lower, his hand came up to hold her hip. Jimena stopped breathing. How was it possible that he had slipped through the crowd so quickly?

She then noticed that most people around them had stopped dancing. She spotted a couple of phone camera pointed towards them. She shivered, her skin crawling with discomfort.

"Ha. You don't want me to make a scene, do you?" bluffed Nacho. "They wouldn't like that back in you separatist club."

Gavi clenched his jaw, his grip on Jimena tightening.

"Let's go, he said softly on her ear."

Jimena shivered, but allowed herself to be led by Gavi away from the crowd, away from the phones pointing at them. She tried to spot her friends, but she couldn't understand the colored lights, and soon they were back on the open air.

"What the fuck was that?" she asked him.

"You tell me that," Gavi snapped.

"Since when do you go to clubs?"

"Since I'm searching for you?"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you still have me blocked on everything and I wanted to talk to you?"

"Why would you—?"

Gavi cut their argument short by grabbing her face and pressing their lips together. Jimena froze for a minute, but then she returned the kiss with the intensity they both craved.

"I wanted to get you back," he explained once they parted. "I... have matured a but since the last time we were together and well, I realised I made quite a big mistake by letting you go."

Jimena scoffed.

"Oh, my God," she said. "I'm going to punch you in your pretty face so hard you won't be able to play for weeks."

He smirked.

"If I can spend those weeks with you, I'll call it a win."

Jimena bit her lip, but spotted that people were leaving the club, searching for Gavi, for them.

"I would love to do that in a place where people are not recording us," she offered, and Gavi laughed, pulling her towards the parking.

"I'll see what I can do."

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.

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

do u write smut?

i’m sorry i donttt bc i’m not of age so that’s pretty much the reason behind that 😭

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

hiii i luv u and ur fics and can i request more joao please? there’s barely anything for him now! similar to your headcanons-what about where he takes makeup off for reader when she’s tired? xoxo

✮ Reverie - João Felix

joão felix x fem!reader

sy: when joão helps you remove your makeup after a tiring day.

a/n: this is just a short drabble until i finish five/six fics which should be published within a week or so! (another one for joão, one for torre, one for hector, one for bernal, one for charles, and maybe one for pedri) & also thank u ily 💓

warnings: no

joão came home late again, finding the house all quiet and eerie. the lights were off, curtains shut and many throwovers wearily scattered along the rim of the sofa.

the only source of light was the faint glow coming from upstairs, as he followed the light, his steps quiet, to end up at the foot of your bedroom door.

he gently pushed it open, the wood creaking at the sudden movement. as he stepped inside into the dim room, it was all similarly still—eerily silent, except for the small lamp set on the nightstand.

instantly, his eyes were drawn to you—already curled up on the bed, half-asleep, your makeup still on from the tiring day you endured.

“hey love,” he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “you forgot to take your makeup off.”

you groaned lightly, eyes barely opening. “too tired.” you murmured something of a sentence and buried your face further into the duvet.

“stay here,” joão ordered mellowly, peppering a kiss to the back of your hand, before disappearing into the bathroom. by now, he was an expert at this routine, and so instinctively rummaged through the cabinets to find the things needed.

a moment later, he returned with a small bowl of warm water, a soft cloth, and some cotton pads saturated with micellar water.

he reclaimed his spot besides you, gently dipping the cloth into the bowl. “let me help you.”

joão began by carefully pressing the damp cloth to your forehead, feeling the tension in your skin ease under his touch.

the brunette wiped at your cheeks, his hands steady and patient as if he were savouring the simple intimacy. each stroke removed a layer of the day—both physically and mentally—as you found yourself sinking further into the plush pillows.

slowly, the exhaustion that had been brewing inside all day seemed to dissipate under his loving devotion.

he moved to your eyes next, the mascara clinging stubbornly to your lashes. his movements were tender, deliberately cautious to not tug or hurt you.

you barely registered the sensation—your body too drained to protest. a hushed sigh of relief escaped your lips, with your eyes glued shut, as his fingertips soothed away the remnants of your makeup.

“almost done,” he muttered. his fingers lingered on your skin a moment longer, appreciating your raw beauty.

to him, makeup or not, you were perfect.

“there, im all finished now.” he murmured, setting the cloth aside. “now you can sleep meu amor.”

you stirred, reaching out to lace his hand with yours and squeezing it lazily. “thank you baby.” your voice still thick with drowsiness.

“anytime,” he chuckled tacitly, circling his thumb the soft curve of your cheek. “get some rest.”

he took his own advice, swiftly settling besides you on his side of the bed. he cradled you close to his chest possessively, as you drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

joão stayed awake for a while longer, listening to your regular heartbeats against his own as he ensured you were fully asleep.