Joao Felix Getting W Neymars Ex Is The Weirdest Link Up Ever?? Bro I’d Never Expect Joao To B W Sm1

I've seen enough bring on Ferran Torres

i wanna yap, my stpumach hurts and idk how to spell that word so ill just leave it how it is, also neymar jrjr might have a crush on my sister?? i thought we was friends but that ho was tryna get to my sister. hmm what else... oh yes i might be getting sambas here soon!! my parents told me they'd take me to go get them for Christmas but they're liars 💔 so it's all in due time. omg i love that song, joshua bassett slander was so stupid like goddamn take your washed brain somewhere far from me you cunt. also i did a face mask and im so glowy hehe wait omg should i confront neymar jrjr on sunday??? tf do i say, 'yo so there's a rumor floating around that you like my sister, is that true ho?' 'yes' '...' LIKE WTF DO YOU SAY AFTER THAT?? oh my god i just remembered when we were both in middle school this chick named allison liked him and told me to ask for his number and he REJECTED IT. and i had to run away like an idiot and i couldn't sleep without it popping up in my brain making me want to kms, but tbf he didn't reject me he rejected her thru me..? aye yi yi anyways im going to sleep now buhbye MWAH

i love how my inbox is full of yap and uhm what an interesting day!! neymar jrjr needs to get his act together BUT ARENT YOU LIKE 3 YEARS OLDER THAN HIM??? okay cougar… but like he’s also like 2 years older than your sister so atp i think you should just be lesbian again bc if you don’t make a move on dom then you’ll lit suffer. i hope him and ariya work out ig??

request: lewis hamilton black and white headers

credits to lewstappn, like/reblog if you save or use and please don't repost

through the storm

credits to the owner!

summary: gossip clouds your mind so much that your relationship hangs over the abyss

warnings: angst, argument

pairing: pablo gavi x fem!reader

requests: 1. hey i would like to request about pablo x reader were the reader is so jealous and upset about the girl that rumored pablo... and pablo keep telling her that there were just friends but the reader wouldn't believe it. and it turned out to have their biggest argument and 1 day ago they sorted it out.. and can you please make it long HEHEH (take your time and thank you so much💘)

2. i loovveddd your prom fic it was really good!! could you write an angst fic for gavi? any storyline you wish, thank you🫶🫶

taglist: @paucubarsisimp, @barcapix, @joaosnovia

masterlist

It was a Thursday night and you should have known something was wrong from the very beginning. The air was heavier than usual, the silence in apartment was unbearable. You were sitting in the kitchen, idly scrolling through your phone, when you saw the notification. It was from your friend from college, her name flashed on the screen, and it had a link to an article attached to it. You didn't notice it at first, but then you saw the headline.

"Pablo Gavi and Alice: Sparks fly in Barcelona's newest friendship"

Your heart jumped and then dropped completely. The world around you seemed to lose its color. Alice. This name. You had heard them many times before, but you always ignored them. You never thought about it. But now, seeing them in bold, your chest tightened and you couldn't breathe.

You stared at the headline, each word felt like a punch to the gut. "Sparks fly." Your eyes welled up with tears before you could even process the rest. Pablo. Pablo, the person you trusted and loved with all your heart. And now, the realization hit you like a freight train, he wasn't just your Pablo anymore.

He wasn't the one who came back to you at night, laughing at your stupid jokes, holding you close like you were the only person who mattered.

The article continued. Details, too many details, about how Pablo and Alice were inseparable. As always, they seemed to gravitate towards each other, even in the most mundane moments. “Always seen laughing”, “always talking closely during practice”, “even spending time together off the field”.

Your stomach turned, nausea creeping in as you read. Your throat felt tight and the burn of betrayal crawled up your spine, threatening to drown you. Each sentence was a fresh blow. Every new detail made the ground fall away from under you. A pit began to form in your chest and spread throughout your body like ice, sharp and cold.

“Just friends” you muttered under your breath, but the words seemed empty, like a lie you kept trying to convince yourself.

Your hands shook violently as you scrolled down, each sentence sinking into you. Each new revelation, a new crack in the foundation of everything you thought you knew.

It wasn't just friendship. You knew it. You felt it in your bones. And what scared you more was that you saw the signs, you saw them all, but you ignored them. The way Pablo smiled into the phone, his eyes lighting up when Alice's name appeared on the screen. The way he never hesitated to respond to her messages, the inside jokes, the laughter that seemed to echo in the background but you never questioned it. You never let your insecurities creep in because you trusted him. You trusted him completely.

Now, as you sat there, staring at the screen, everything changed. The love you thought was unwavering, the bond you thought would never be broken, suddenly felt fragile, like broken glass beneath your feet.

Later that night, you tried to push away the thoughts that were consuming you. "Maybe I'm exaggerating too much?" you thought. Maybe it was nothing, just harmless friendship, but deep down something was gnawing at you. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were losing him, even if you didn't know why.

When Pablo finally returned home, the silence between the two of you was deafening. You didn't even look at him when he walked through the door, his smile fading the moment he saw the look on your face. It wasn't the way he usually greeted you like always, full of warmth and affection. No, this time it was different. You felt as if a cold void had opened between you.

"Hey, what happened?" his voice was soft, filled with concern, but there was a note of uncertainty in it that cut deeper than any harsh words.

"So...Alice, huh?" the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

They were sharp, cutting, and when they hit the air, it felt like the world stopped. Your voice cracked at the end, the jealousy, the pain, the betrayal spilling out in a way you couldn't contain. Pablo blinked in surprise, his face turning pale.

"What about Alice?" he was confused, clearly off balance, but there was something else in his eyes, something that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall into something you couldn't control.

Then you stood up, the tension in your body unbearable.

"The girl you spend all your time with? The one they call your new best friend? The one I wasn't supposed to worry about?" you scoffed, looking at him from under the bull.

His expression faltered, and then a wave of guilt washed over his face.

"Amor, I... I don't know what you're talking about and you definitely have nothing to worry about" he stated calmly.

But now you couldn't stop. You couldn't hold it in any longer. The pain poured out of you like a flood.

"Don't lie to me, Pablo!" you growled, your voice shaking with anger, frustration, and pain you couldn't put into words. “I saw the way you looked at her. You're constantly texting her, laughing, sharing inside jokes. You're not the same with me anymore” you said in one breath, sadness radiating from you.

He frowned, frustration creeping into his voice.

“Y/N, you're acting ridiculous” he growled, but even then there was a note of hurt in his words. “I love YOU. Alice and I just-”

"What is it, Pablo?" you interrupted, raising your voice. "Just friends? You don't understand that, do you? I'm your girlfriend! Not her!" you screamed.

There was a silence that was suffocating. He clenched his jaw and his eyes seemed to darken, trying to find the words to fix this, but there were none. Eventually his voice softened, though it still carried the weight of something unsaid.

"I already told you. She's just a friend. Why can't you believe me?" he asked impatiently.

“Because you're not showing me that you care” you snapped, tears now streaming down your cheeks, your breathing ragged. “You're so wrapped up in her that I feel invisible, Pablo. I don’t even know who you are anymore” your voice cracked.

"I don't-" Pablo started, you interrupted him, every word you said now feeling like a dagger.

"No, don't you dare! I sat here and watched you. I watched you talk to her, watch you smile at her like she was the only person in the world. And I was too blind to notice, but now... Now I don't I can unsee this” your voice cracked.

His face hardened. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his tongue. He closed his eyes as if trying to gather his thoughts, but you were already too far away.

“Please, Y/N” he said quietly, walking up to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “She's just a fellow staff member, someone I talk to, nothing more. I'm telling you there's nothing between us. Please trust me" he explained.

“Amor, you have to believe me. She's just a friend. I don't know why people say such things, but you're the one I want! It was always you!” he spoke desperately but calmly, trying to calm you down.

You shook your head, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

“I don't believe you anymore” you whispered, the words seeming to choke you. “I don't know how to believe you anymore,” you sobbed, shaking your head, slowly backing towards the door.

Pablo's face fell, pain written all over it. His hand reached for you, but you recoiled, every instinct telling you to run.

“No, don't touch me” your voice was rough, barely a whisper, but it was enough to make him freeze in place, feeling hurt.

"I'm sorry, okay?" his voice broke. “Please, you have to believe me. I love you, Y/N! Alice is just a friend” he said, contrite.

Your chest ached, the pain was unbearable.

"How could you love me and still do that? How could you let her take control like that? How could you let me feel like that, like I wasn't enough?" you threw out everything that was on your heart.

Pablo flinched as if the words physically hurt him. He stepped closer, but you shook your head violently, backing away.

"No, Pablo. You don't understand. I'm not second choice. I'm not a spare. I'm your girlfriend. I shouldn't even be competing for your attention! I'm the one who counts, not her!" you screamed, desperate and angry.

His jaw clenched, anger flashed in his eyes for a moment, but then it turned into something much worse, regret and helplessness.

“Y/N, please... I didn't want this to happen” a tear rolled down his cheek.

“I don't care what you meant” you blurted out, raising your voice, pouring out the weight of your broken heart. “I care about what you did. And I can't go on living like this" you choked out.

“Please” he said, his voice breaking, he tried to grab your hand again, but you kept pulling away. “Don't say that. Don't say you're leaving. We can fix this. We can-” you interrupted him.

"No!" you screamed, unable to hold back the surge of emotion. “I can't do this anymore. I'm not going to sit here and watch you fall in love with someone else. I’m not going to be the one you leave” you sobbed, a waterfall of tears falling from your eyes.

He looked at you as if you had just shattered him, his face pale, his eyes wide, a deep, unbearable sadness overwhelming him.

He looked at you as if you had just shattered him, his face pale, his eyes wide, a deep, unbearable sadness overwhelming him.

"Y/N, please don't go. I need you. I love you! Only you!" he screamed in despair, he felt his world collapsing.

You shook your head, your heart breaking in a way you never thought possible.

"You should have thought about it sooner. I'm done" you choked out, turning your back to him.

You couldn't look at him anymore. Not with the suffocating weight of everything unspoken between the two of you. Not with the reality of what he did.

You grabbed your coat, the material like a barrier between you and the raw pain that twisted in your chest. Once you ran out of his house, you didn't look back. You couldn't. You couldn't bear the sight of him, standing there, broken.

After you closed the door, Pablo fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands. He began to sob, feeling his chest sink and his heart clenching in pain. He couldn't believe what had just happened. You left him.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The next day was a suffocating void. Silence. She was pushing from all sides. You haven't heard anything from Pablo. The thought of hearing his voice pained you. Of course you missed him. You couldn't believe that everything fell apart in just a few minutes.

The awkward tension of trying to make sense of it all made your skin crawl. But you couldn't stop thinking about the article, about Alice, about the distance growing between you and the person you thought you knew, the person you loved.

"Maybe you overreacted?" you thought. Maybe it wasn't as bad as you thought. But you couldn't shake the gnawing feeling in your stomach. Jealousy twisted inside you, something deep and primal that you couldn't push away, no matter how hard you tried.

Hours passed. Pablo called once. Then the second one. Tenth. But you couldn't bring yourself to answer. You didn't want to listen to his explanations, you didn't want to hear him tell you that everything would be fine, that Alice was just a friend. You couldn't stand it anymore.

Only late in the evening, when night had already fallen, you heard a knock on the door. Hesitantly, you opened it, but there was no mistaking the pain in his eyes when he saw you standing there, red-eyed, shaking.

“Y/N” Pablo said quietly, his voice full of emotion.

His usual confident demeanor was gone, replaced with something raw, something real.

“I need to talk to you. I'm here to fix it. Please” he begged, Pablo’s voice firm but gentle, his hands trembling and his gaze softening as he looked at you.

You crossed your arms but didn't look away. The wound in your heart still hurt, but there was something in his eyes that made you want to listen.

“I don't know if there's anything else to say, Pablo” you said quietly.

“Please” he said again, his voice cracking.

You hesitated, but you let him into your apartment, and when you closed the door, he immediately turned to you.

"I know I messed up. I should have made you feel safe. I should have shown you that you were everything to me, and instead I let you doubt. I let her get in the way" he said.

You took a shaky breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall.

“I don't know how to trust you again” you whispered, your voice was fragile, you were on the verge of tears. The pain still too fresh to ignore.

Pablo's gaze softened and he took a small step towards you, his eyes pleading.

“Y/N, I never wanted to make you feel like the second option. I love you. I love you so much. You are my whole world. Alice, she is nothing. Just a friend. But I was stupid and let my actions speak louder than my words. I'm very sorry, it will never happen again" he said in a desperate voice.

His words hit you like a tidal wave and for a moment you couldn't breathe. He took another step closer, extending his hand, but you pulled back, not ready to give him that much more. You had to listen to him first, he understood.

"I need to hear you say it, Pablo. I need to know that you're not just saying it because you don't want to lose me. I need to know that you're serious. You need to prove to me that I'm the one you want" You hoped that everything would work out.

He nodded slowly, his eyes shining with emotion.

"I need you, Y/N. I will do whatever it takes to make things right. If you want time, I will give it to you. If you want space, I will stay away. But I will never stop fighting for you" he looked deep into your eyes, and sincerity shone from his warm brown eyes.

The sensitivity in his voice shattered something inside you. He wasn't perfect and maybe there will always be insecurities, there will always be moments of doubt, but the love in his eyes was real. The sincerity in his words was too strong to ignore.

“I believe you” you finally whispered, the weight in your chest lifting just a little. “But it won't be easy, Pablo. It will take some time” you said quietly but gently.

He smiled softly, a small, broken smile, but it was enough.

"I know. And I'll spend every day proving it to you" he announced.

You took a deep breath and without thinking, closed the distance between the two of you. His arms immediately wrapped around you, holding you tightly, desperately, as if he was afraid you might slip away from him again.

You felt his warmth, his steady heartbeat, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe in him again. For the first time in what seemed like forever, you saw the real Pablo. The one who was a man who made mistakes but tried, really tried to fix it.

“I love you, Y/N” Pablo murmured into your ear, his voice full of emotion. “I love you more than anything” he whispered.

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest, your fingers gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt as a sob escaped your throat.

"I love you too, Pablo. But I need you to show it to me. Every day. Not just with words" you sobbed, and he stroked your hair soothingly.

"I will" he promised in a firm voice. "I will, I swear" he said with tears in his eyes, but with relief in his heart that you gave him a second chance.

And in that moment, as his arms held you tighter, you realized that love wasn't perfect. It wasn't always smooth. But it was worth fighting for. And you knew, deep inside, that despite the pain, despite the suffering, you and Pablo had something worth saving.

"I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I'm sorry I didn't do enough to calm you down back then. I love you, mi vida, and I'm not going anywhere" he spoke again after a short silence.

You swallow hard, feeling tears begin to form.

"I'm sorry too. I should have trusted you. My jealousy got the best of me. I don't want to lose you over something so stupid" you said, your voice broken.

Pablo took your hand and squeezed it gently.

“You won't lose me. I promise. I'm always here for you and I won't let anything come between us, neither gossip nor uncertainty. It's just you and me, okay?” he asked, pulling away slightly to look into your eyes.

You nodded, then snuggled into his chest again as he held you tightly in his arms and kissed the top of your head. The tension was starting to melt away. Healing takes time, but you both knew you could handle it. Because you had each other and that was all that mattered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

In the following weeks, everything slowly returned to normal. Pablo tried to show you how much he loved you, always putting you first, always assuring you that you were the one he wanted. Alice was still nearby, but you no longer felt threatened. You learned to trust him again, and he learned to be more open with you, no longer allowing misunderstandings to build up.

One evening, you and Pablo were sitting on the couch in his living room. The night was quiet, and the faint hum of the city was barely audible through the open window. You spent hours talking, really talking about everything that was weighing on your hearts. Misunderstanding with Alice, jealousy, doubts. You were finally starting to feel like the distance between you was closing.

Pablo turned to you, his gaze soft but intense. The way he looked at you now was different, full of love, sincerity, and something that made you feel a sense of relief in your chest. He was so patient with you, so understanding. He apologized to you countless times, reassured you time and time again, but it was his actions, not just his words, that made you feel that everything would be okay.

You felt a little shy under his intense gaze, but your heart was full. The air between you was heavy, not from tension, but from something much more powerful.

"But are you sure?" you asked again, your voice barely audible above a whisper. “That it was just me? That you love me and that I am the one you want?” you asked, still unsure at some points.

He nodded, smiling at you, his hand slowly reaching up to cup your cheek gently.

"Always you, Y/N. Only you. I can't imagine life without you. I've never been more sure of anything than this" he confessed, his eyes shining with pure sincerity and unimaginable love for you.

A lump formed in your throat, your heart swelling at his words. You were so scared, so unsure, but now it all made sense. Pablo loved you, more than you could ever imagine. Now you knew it deep in your bones.

“You mean everything to me, Y/N” he murmured, his thumb gently brushing your skin. “I never want to hurt you again” he said firmly.

You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch, allowing yourself to feel the warmth of his presence. Then, opening your eyelids slightly without thinking, you leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between you and Pablo.

The world seemed to stop, and when your lips met his, everything inside you ignited. At first it was gentle, shy, almost as if he was asking for permission. But you deepened the kiss, your hands reaching up to touch his face, your fingers combing through his hair as you pulled him closer.

His lips tasted of relief and love, and in that kiss you could feel the weight of everything you had been through together. The jealousy, the misunderstandings, the pain, all of it melted away, replaced by an undeniable connection between the two of you, a longing. There was no longer any room for doubt, no room for uncertainty. It was just the two of you, wrapped in this moment of pure love.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you out of breath. You smiled to each other, your heart racing, but uncertainty still crept into your mind.

“I was afraid, Pablo” you finally whispered, feeling bad for interrupting the romantic moment. “I was afraid that I wasn't enough for you, that you would find someone better, someone who wouldn't be so insecure. And then there was Alicia, always around, always so perfect. And the rumors, my God, the rumors… They made me think I was losing you” tears of terror gathered in your eyes again.

Pablo's face softened as he sat even closer to you, his hand reaching for yours.

"You'll never lose me, Y/N. I promise. I'm not perfect, but I know I love you. I want to be with you, always. You are more than enough and I will do anything to make you feel safe, to make you trust me again" he stroked with his thumb your hand.

You looked at him for a long moment, your heart pounding in your chest. And then you slowly walked into his arms, letting him hold you tightly.

“I'm sorry again, too” you said quietly. “I should have trusted you more. I was just so scared...” you whispered.

“It's okay” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “We'll get through this together. We always do this” he rubbed your back.

“I love you, cariño” you said softly, a smile curving your lips.

"I love you more, mi amor" Pablo replied, his voice equally quiet but full of promise.

And when he kissed you again, this time with more passion and confidence, you knew everything would be okay.

There were no more doubts, no more fears. You learned that love requires vulnerability, and sometimes even the strongest relationships have to go through a storm before they can shine brighter.

You were his and he was yours and nothing or no one could change that.

if you like this, please like, reblog or comment 🫶🏻

fc barcelona out of context

❦ - one wrong digit.

summary:: joao wanted to call his ex, instead slipping up a digit leading to you. but was it really just a slip up?

warnings:: none! y/n mentioned tho

writers note:: RIGHT THIS IS MY RANG SPOT. how am i flopping this hard? excuse me. i’m lowkey gonna crash out i’ve fallen off and i haven’t even reached the height of my career yet?? also why is all of joaos delicious photos gotta be monotone bro step up! lmk if you want a part two of this.

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

you’re halfway through making a cup of tea when your phone rings. the number flashing on the screen isn’t saved in your contacts, but curiosity gets the best of you, and you swipe to answer.

‘hello?’

silence. then, a hesitant voice. ‘uh… hello?’

you frown. the guy on the other end sounds confused, almost unsure if he meant to call. ‘who’s this?’ you ask.

a pause. ‘i… uh… i was trying to call someone else.’

you let out a small laugh. ‘clearly.’

normally, you’d hang up. wrong numbers happen all the time. but something about his voice makes you linger, it’s deep yet soft, carrying a weight you can’t quite place.

‘who am i talking to?’ he asks, still hesitant.

‘you called me.’ you tease. ‘but since you’re curious, i’m y/n, and you?’

he hesitates, like he’s debating whether to tell you. ‘joão.’

‘nice to meet you, joão,’ you say, settling onto your couch. ‘you okay? you sounded kind of… off when you called.’

he exhales, the sound crackling slightly through the speaker. ‘yeah. just… long day.’

‘i get that.’ you shift, making yourself comfortable. ‘want to talk about it?’

he chuckles softly, but there’s something tired in it. ‘you don’t even know me.’

‘sometimes that makes it easier,’ you reply. ‘no pressure, though.’

for a moment, you think he’s going to brush it off. but then, to your surprise, he starts talking. not in long, drawn out sentences, but in small admissions, about football, about expectations, about the kind of loneliness that lingers even when you’re surrounded by people.

and you listen. not because he’s famous (though his name does sound vaguely familiar), but because he sounds like he needs it.

‘sounds like a lot,’ you say when he finishes.

‘yeah.’ his voice is quieter now. ‘sorry. you didn’t sign up for all that.’

‘i mean, i was about to watch a movie, but this is much more interesting,’ you joke.

that earns a soft chuckle from him. ‘what were you gonna watch?’

‘a classic,’ you say. ‘ever seen 10 things i hate about you?’

there’s a brief silence. then, ‘can’t say i have.’

you gasp dramatically. ‘that’s unacceptable. you have to watch it.’

he chuckles. ‘that good?’

‘it’s life changing.’

you hear a faint shuffling sound, like he’s moving on his end. ‘maybe i should.’

‘good,’ you say. ‘that way, next time you accidentally call me, we can discuss it.’

another pause. ‘next time?’

you laugh. ‘unless you’re planning on deleting my number after this.’

there’s something light in his voice when he replies. ‘no. i think i’ll keep it.’

you don’t expect it to turn into anything. but over the next few weeks, joão keeps texting you, sometimes after matches, sometimes just because. the conversations come easily, and soon, it’s not weird at all that a wrong number has somehow turned into a late night talking habit.

okay next, i js wanna laugh. okay so, were at a charity event or something, and im volunteering, helping hand out juice boxes, signing people in, keeping children from using cones as swords, that typa stuff. until FRANCO COLAPINATA shows up, he's js being annoying really, until shes had enough and YEET the juice box at his head, and then he's all nonchalant and shit like "UH HUH I DESERVED THATTT AHAHA" .... and then you can tell the juice box turned him on bc you can like tell he wants her, and thennn WEEKS pass, and he DM's her. "saw apple juice today. thought of you. still flinch when i see boxes. wanna hang out?” MUWUAHAHSNA

❦ - manzanas contigo.

warnings:: none, maybe cussing..?

writers notes:: pls send more franco/f1 reqs bc i loved writing this sm and hes so fun to write for!

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you don’t even want to be here.

the email had said volunteers needed, and your overly kind soul had said sure, why not, and now you’re seven hours deep into wrangling children hopped up on fruit snacks and sun. the charity event is cute in theory, music, booths, a little track set up for games, and a bounce house, but in practice? it’s a battlefield.

you’re stationed at the welcome tent, handing out wristbands and juice boxes and fake smiles.

your feet hurt. your shirt is sticking to your back. a toddler is crying because he dropped his balloon into a bush. and some guy just tried to cut the line because he ‘swears his cousin is already inside.’

you’re not proud of how close you came to smacking him with the clipboard.

but then, because life has a sense of humor, he appears.

franco colapinto.

and you know it’s him, because who else shows up to a local charity event in an alpine cap, looking like he walked out of a sports magazine and directly into your personal hell?

you glance up at the exact moment he’s brushing a curl out of his eyes, all casual and oops i’m hot and didn’t mean to beenergy.

he scans the crowd, sunglasses pushed up on his head, mouth curled like he already knows he’s being stared at. and of course he is. a group of teenage volunteers behind you are whispering, one of them literally smacks the other on the arm and goes that’s him. that’s that guy. the car one.

sigh.

maybe if you stay perfectly still, he won’t notice you.

but of course, you are not blessed with that kind of luck.

his eyes land on you. direct. intentional.

and he starts walking over.

great.

you busy yourself with the juice boxes, shuffling them around pointlessly as if they need organizing, as if you’re not seconds away from face to face contact with a walking headache.

‘so,’ he says, leaning against the table like this is his full time job. ‘what does a guy gotta do to get one of those?’

you glance up. ‘a wristband?’

‘nah. a juice box.’

you stare.

he smiles.

you hold one up. ‘take it and leave.’

‘whoa. feisty. is this how you treat all guests, or am i special?’

you blink. ‘i’ve been here since 6am. i have zero patience and less charm left.’

‘good thing i’ve got enough charm for both of us.’

you raise a brow. ‘that supposed to work on me?’

he shrugs, peeling the wrapper off a straw. ‘worth a shot.’

he doesn’t leave.

he just stands there, sipping slowly, watching you like he’s never seen anyone pass out juice before. his gaze trails across your face, not in a creepy way, just annoyingly observant. like he’s trying to figure out what kind of person signs up for this kind of chaos and doesn’t run away screaming.

you try to ignore him. you really do.

but then he starts helping. like… physically taking wristbands from your hand to hand them to kids, leaning way too close to read names off the sign in list, nodding solemnly at the parents like he belongs here.

and the worst part? people believe it.

‘you two are adorable,’ one lady says as she signs in her daughter.

you nearly choke. ‘we’re not—‘

‘thank you,’ franco cuts in, smiling like he just won an oscar. ‘we try.’

you give him a look. he winks. kill me, you think.

it gets worse when a small child asks for apple juice and franco picks one up, does a dramatic gasp, and goes, ‘apple! the superior juice. i like your taste, kid.’

you break.

you don’t mean to. you truly don’t. but something inside you snaps, and the next thing you know, you’re yeeting a juice box straight at him.

it arcs through the air with surprising grace, smacks him right in the shoulder, and bounces off harmlessly onto the grass.

a moment of silence.

he blinks.

then he laughs. hard.

‘okay,’ he says, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘i deserved that. i fully, absolutely, one hundred percent deserved that.’

you cross your arms. ‘you think?’

he’s still grinning as he bends to pick it up. ‘apple again. symbolic.’

‘you’re ridiculous.’

‘you like me though.’

you scoff. ‘i like peace and quiet.’

‘you’re blushing.’

‘i’m hot. it’s eighty degrees.’

‘you threw a juice box at me.’

‘you were annoying.’

he tilts his head. ‘admit it. it was kinda satisfying.’

you bite back a smile. ‘maybe a little.’

he grins, stepping back finally. ‘i’ll leave you to your cone wrangling duties. but don’t be surprised if you see me again.’

‘god help me,’ you mutter.

he strolls away, sipping the slightly dented juice like it’s champagne.

and yeah. maybe your heart is doing something dumb.

maybe you do glance up once or twice, wondering if he’s still watching you.

maybe he is.

you don’t expect to see him again.

honestly, you’d hoped the juice box incident would be enough to scare him off. but two saturdays later, at a completely different event, you’re there, collecting raffle tickets and babysitting the world’s most chaotic face paint station, and there he is.

franco colapinto.

wearing a hoodie this time. hood up. trying and failing to blend in, as if his stupidly nice smile and the way he walks like the world was made for him don’t give him away instantly.

you see him from across the lot.

he doesn’t even try to be subtle. just lifts his hand in a little wave and starts walking straight toward you like this is a planned reunion and not a complete surprise.

you look around. as if there’s someone else he could be greeting. spoiler: there isn’t.

‘you again,’ you say when he reaches you.

‘me again,’ he grins, pulling down his hood like he’s revealing a secret identity.

you sigh. ‘are you following me?’

‘you wish.’

‘so this is a coincidence?’

he shrugs. ‘or fate.’

you deadpan. ‘you’re insufferable.’

‘you say that every time.’

‘i mean it every time.’

he gestures around, like he’s settling in. ‘need help again? or do i have to earn my juice box rights this time?’

you narrow your eyes. ‘don’t you have a job?’

‘i do. it’s off-season. i’m thriving.’

‘this is how you spend your free time? crashing fundraisers?’

‘not crashing,’ he says, very seriously. ‘contributing. i donated five bucks to the bouncy castle. i’m basically a hero.’

you don’t laugh. you don’t.

okay, maybe a little.

he’s already rolling up his sleeves and jumping into whatever task you’re doing, like last time, and suddenly you’re stuck with him for three hours again.

he helps a little girl glue pom poms onto a paper crown.

he nearly gets paint on his nose and doesn’t notice.

he lets a five year old draw a blue lightning bolt across his cheek and calls it his new racing stripe.

and every now and then, he looks over at you like you’re the funniest thing in the world, even when you’re just frowning at a clipboard or trying to untangle a balloon string from a folding chair.

you pretend not to care.

you pretend really hard.

the third time is the worst.

mostly because… you kind of expect him now.

you’ve made the mistake of mentioning your volunteer schedule to a friend on your story. and it’s fine. really. except now, when you show up to the saturday pet adoption drive with a clipboard and a tight ponytail, you scan the crowd. like an idiot.

he’s not there.

you tell yourself you’re relieved. that you don’t need another afternoon of his smug little comments and stupidly good hair.

but you still keep checking.

twenty minutes pass.

an hour.

two.

he doesn’t come.

you keep busy. hand out flyers. try not to cry when a little dog named charlie gets adopted. organize leashes by size.

and you don’t look at the time more than seven times. promise.

at some point, you’re wiping your hands with a napkin behind the tent when your phone buzzes.

it’s a dm.

from franco.

you blink.

sorry i couldn’t be there today. doing actual job things. tragic.

you stare at it.

then another:

but saw apple juice earlier. still flinched.

and another:

still want to hang out sometime. even if you hit me with stuff. maybe especially because you hit me with stuff.

you can’t help it. your lips twitch.

you don’t reply right away.

you finish your shift. take the long way home. drink half a juice box you saved from the cooler, even though it’s lukewarm now.

and when you’re lying on your bed, staring at the message, you finally type:

you’re impossible.

three dots.

impossible but charming?

you:

debatable.

him:

you didn’t say no though.

you stare at your screen for a second too long.

then:

one coffee. you pay. no weird pickup lines.

his response is immediate.

deal. i’ll try to behave. no promises.

you tell yourself it’s just a coffee.

one coffee. thirty minutes, max. maybe forty five if he says something dumb and you need time to drag him for it.

it’s not a big deal.

except it is. because you spend too long picking an outfit. change your shirt twice. then change it again. then panic change it back to the first one and tell yourself to get a grip.

you meet at some small place he picked, half hipster café, half bookstore. it smells like cinnamon and old paperbacks. you hate how nice it is.

franco’s already there.

and of course he looks… stupidly good. hoodie, again. curls poking out. one hand lazily spinning his coffee cup. and that grin, that stupid boyish grin, when he spots you.

‘you came,’ he says, standing.

‘don’t sound so surprised.’

he does a little half bow. ‘welcome to the least boring hour of your life.’

you roll your eyes and sit across from him. ‘don’t flatter yourself.’

‘not flattering. manifesting.’

you try to look annoyed, but the truth is, you’re already smiling. just a little. traitorous.

you talk.

not about anything huge at first. just… dumb things. favorite drinks. worst airport experiences. why he thinks pineapple on pizza should be illegal (you argue passionately against this).

he tells you about crashing a go kart once when he was twelve because he was ‘trying to wave like a champion’ and forgot to steer.

you tell him about the time you accidentally walked into the wrong class and sat through fifteen minutes of astrophysics before realising.

he laughs with his whole chest.

and it’s easy. too easy. every time your fingers brush reaching for the sugar, it feels like something electric. every time he leans in a little, like he’s really listening, your heart stutters.

you should not be this into him. and yet.

you’re both halfway through your drinks when he goes quiet for a second, then says, ‘i almost didn’t message you.’

you blink. ‘why not?’

he shrugs, looks down, spins the empty cup between his hands. ‘i dunno. didn’t want to be annoying.’

‘you already are.’

he grins, but it’s softer now. ‘yeah, but like… in a cute way.’

you shake your head, but your cheeks are warm. ‘you’re such a menace.’

‘you threw juice at me.’

‘because you were asking for it.’

he leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes on yours. ‘maybe i was.’

your breath catches. just a little. just enough.

you clear your throat. ‘you’re not smooth, you know.’

‘i don’t need to be. i just need to make you smile.’

you hate him.

you really, really don’t.

you leave the café two hours later.

two.

neither of you wants to say goodbye yet, so you walk. just… around. your shoulder brushes his once. then again. then a third time, and this time, it stays there. just for a second longer than it should.

he doesn’t let go first.

eventually, you end up back where you started.

he looks at you like he wants to say something. then looks away. then back.

‘can i see you again?’ he asks, soft.

you nod. and for once, don’t try to be clever.

‘yeah. i’d like that.’

the second date happens faster than either of you expect.

you’d planned to wait. play it cool. but then franco sends you a picture of a strawberry smoothie and says ‘looked gross. thought of u,’ and you end up laughing so hard in the middle of your kitchen that you just… cave.

you text him:
you free tonight?

he replies in literal seconds:
always. pick the time. i’ll teleport.

you meet again at the same café. but this time, he’s not already sitting.

he’s waiting outside. leaning on the wall. hoodie again, he really only owns five of them, he tells you later, and his curls are just barely damp from the light rain that’s started falling.

he sees you and that grin hits his face like clockwork. like he’d been saving it just for you.

‘you came,’ he says.

‘you say that every time.’

‘yeah, but like… every time you do, it messes me up a little.’

you pretend you don’t hear that part.

it’s darker inside. quieter. the same table’s free, but this time, you sit next to each other.

close.

too close.

he smells good. not in an obvious, cologne drenched way. it’s something warmer. shampoo and sugar and the kind of scent that lingers even after he leaves.

your knees touch under the table.

neither of you moves.

you talk again.

about bigger things this time. pressure. travel. burnout. he admits he sometimes feels like everything’s moving too fast, and he’s scared he won’t be able to hold on.

you nod. you tell him about how you fake confidence half the time. how sometimes you feel invisible until someone needs something.

he listens. really listens.

then says, ‘you’re not invisible.’

you blink. ‘okay?’

‘just saying. i notice you. always have.’

you laugh a little. ‘that’s creepy.’

‘yeah,’ he says, smiling into his drink. ‘but like… romantic creepy.’

you don’t mean to stay late. but time’s slippery around him.

by the time you realize it’s almost midnight, you’re both sitting outside the café, sharing a leftover pastry and watching the rain slide down the windows.

you don’t want to go.

he doesn’t want to say goodbye.

so he walks you home.

he stops outside your door.

you both kind of hover there. like two idiots waiting for someone to do something. say something.

‘this was nice,’ you say quietly.

‘yeah,’ he says, and then, softer, ‘i wanna kiss you.’

your breath catches.

he doesn’t move closer. doesn’t touch you. he just stands there, all warm eyes and soft voice.

you whisper, ‘then why don’t you?’

he grins. all teeth and nerves and too much hope.

‘cause the minute i kiss you, i’m not gonna stop thinking about it. and i want you to wanna kiss me back. like really want to.’

you stare at him.

he shrugs. ‘just being honest.’

you nod. heart in your throat.

then say, ‘next time.’

he smirks, already backing away.

‘i’ll hold you to that.’

you tell yourself you’re not waiting.

not waiting for a text. not waiting for a call. not waiting for the memory of him saying i wanna kiss you to stop looping in your head like some kind of cursed romantic ringtone.

but when his name flashes on your screen two days later, your whole face warms.

what if we didn’t do coffee this time?

you stare.

what do you wanna do then?

he replies instantly.

drive. music. idfk. i’ll bring snacks. you bring the vibe.

you:
so i’m the vibe?

him:
always.

he picks you up at 7:03.

he’s in a black hoodie this time, and his car smells like mint gum and the ghost of bad fast food. there’s a half eaten bag of crisps on the passenger seat, which he tosses in the back when you open the door.

‘you’re late,’ you say.

‘you’re early. time’s fake. get in.’

he drives like he thinks he’s in a movie.

one hand on the wheel. other messing with the aux. windows down. hair wind-blown and wild. he sings under his breath to every second song. raps to the third one badly. you don’t stop laughing the entire first hour.

you don’t know where he’s going, but you don’t care.

being next to him feels like its own kind of destination.

eventually, he parks by the water.

some random lookout. the city’s lights glitter below, far enough to feel small. the kind of view that feels too beautiful to deserve.

you sit on the hood of his car. shoulder to shoulder. knee to knee. the air’s cold, but not too cold. and everything’s soft. quiet.

for a second, neither of you says anything.

and then, gently, he says, ‘i think about kissing you a lot.’

you blink.

he keeps staring ahead, like he didn’t just drop a bomb. ‘not in a creepy way.’

you laugh. ‘do you always think you’re being creepy?’

‘only when i like someone too much.’

the words settle in your chest like warmth. like lightning.

‘franco,’ you say.

he turns.

‘kiss me.’

his eyes go wide. like for a second, he’s not sure if he heard you right.

then, slowly, he leans in.

he kisses you like he’s afraid to mess it up. like he’s been waiting exactly this long, and not a second less. soft, steady, sure.

and when he pulls back, he just rests his forehead against yours.

neither of you speaks for a minute.

you break the silence. ‘not bad.’

he huffs a laugh. ‘that’s it? not bad?’

‘seven out of ten. you’ll need practice.’

‘cool. guess i better keep showing up.’

you’re not sure when it shifted.

when the maybe turned into definitely. when the texting turned into facetime turned into mornings with your feet tangled under his on the couch. when the almost turned into always.

but now, here you are, franco at your door with a half-melted milkshake and a stupid grin, like he’s been thinking about this all day.

‘you’re late,’ you tease, taking the drink.

‘you’re still hot,’ he says, walking in like he lives here.

(he kind of does.)

you’ve been soft ever since the drive.

he kisses you now like he needs to. like he missed you, even if it’s only been a few hours. like kissing you is just a normal part of his day, something between brushing his teeth and ruining your kitchen by cooking you breakfast at 2 a.m.

sometimes, you wake up to his hand resting on your waist, his face buried in your shoulder. like his body forgets how to be without you.

you don’t say it. not yet. but you feel it.

you think he does too.

it’s been weeks.

weeks since franco colapinto got beaned in the forehead with apple juice and decided that was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.

weeks since he dm’d you with that dumb message:
saw apple juice today. thought of you. still flinch when i see boxes. wanna hang out?

weeks since you said yes.

and now here you are, propped up on his couch, socks mismatched, face lit by the glow of a documentary you’re not watching, because franco’s lying with his head in your lap and he keeps dragging his fingers along your leg like he can’t believe you’re real.

‘what,’ you murmur.

‘nothing,’ he says. then, quietly: ‘just thinking about the juicebox.’

you snort. ‘again?’

he nods, sleepy and fond. ‘you threw that thing with intention. it was beautiful.’

‘you’re so weird.’

‘you’re the one who assaulted me with a children’s drink.’

‘you flirted with me for two hours while i was working.’

‘you looked hot with a clipboard. sue me.’

you roll your eyes. he reaches up, brushes your hair behind your ear.

‘you know i really did think about you every time i saw juice after that?’

‘you said that already.’

‘i mean it. i’d be in a store and be like… damn. i miss her aim.’

you swat him. he laughs. kisses your wrist.

later, when you’re brushing your teeth in his oversized hoodie, he pulls you into his arms and rests his chin on your head.

‘should we save the juicebox?’ he asks, voice muffled in your hair.

‘what, like… frame it?’

‘yeah. put it above the bed. shrine to our origin story.’

‘you’re so dumb.’

‘dumb for you.’

you groan. he grins.

he still gets teased by his friends about the Incident.

he still buys apple juice ‘for the bit’ and lines the fridge with it like a threat.

but when he kisses you goodbye before his next race, all soft and slow like he’s imprinting it in his memory, he says:

‘thanks for hitting me.’

and you say,
‘thanks for being annoying enough to deserve it.’

and maybe, maybe, that’s just your love language now.

darling i think you just killed me… ohhhh my lord

blue jeans, white shirt

pairing: joao felix x reader

warnings: angsty

preface: your ex bf is famous af and he forgot about u from the fame, or so u thought

i will love you till the end of time, i would wait a million years. promise you’ll remember that you’re mine. baby can you see through the tears?

when joão got transferred to chelsea you guys have been dating for a year but it was getting quite serious. he was shown as the new young left winger from portugal. he got his fame from being on chelsea but you knew him when he first joined benfica. you have been knowing him since you were a child so you know everything about him. his pet peeves, his favourite songs, his little quirks and that’s what he liked about you.

you were attentive and loving, you both always had a connection since you were both teenagers. the connection quickly turned to dust when he stopped being attentive to you. he would have events and he stopped inviting you, he stopped inviting you to games, he just ghosted you overall. his mom often calls you to see if you guys have spoken but you secretly hated it. he was your first love, your first body, your first kiss. you were shattered when you realized he wasn’t putting in his all anymore so it was safe to say you guys were done, you deletes his number, unfollowed him on instagram, blocked him on snapchat, deleted anything of him on your phone, you even stopped watching football.

you were back home in portugal for the summer and you were staying again your familys villa, not a single thought in your brain except for seeing your new boyfriend. your new boyfriend was caring and great to you, helped you get over joão. you know your mother was inviting some family friends over and you know it was going to be the félix family but joão stopped attending family functions all together because he was “too busy”. you got out of the shower and you were changing into your pjs so you could do your makeup and you heard the front door open, you assumed it was your boyfriend until you heard a familiar loud voice. your stomach dropped and you started breathing heavily, you haven’t seen him since he’s joined barcelona and it’s now the middle of august.

you gave yourself a pep talk and reminded yourself that he means nothing now and your boyfriend is on the way now. you called your boyfriend to see where he is and he picked up on the last couple of rings. “hey y/n baby, i’m sorry but i don’t think i’ll be able to make it tonight. work is just a lot right now” he says, your stomach dropped yet again. “okay baby. i love you” you say swallowing your panic. you got ready and just tried to go on about your day.

you looked gorgeous. you lost weight, done your hair differently, you were barely wearing makeup. you were wearing a beautiful short summer dress with your perfect manicured hands and toes. joão loved how feminine you were. you walked downstairs of the villa and everyone’s eyes were on you. mrs félix ran up to you and gave you a big kiss on your cheek, you smiled as you hugged everyone, except joão. you just gave him a friendly wave as he looked at you in awe.

you went through the dinner with funny stories of your younger self as well as joão, before you would’ve been missing him but now you feel nothing. “eu vou ao banheiro” (i’m going to the bathroom) everyone nods as you get up, your heels clicking on the ground as you make your way to the bathroom. “wow she’s beautiful..” joão’s mother said to your parents, she turns her head towards her son “why would you do that.. she’s perfect joão”

“não sei..” (i don’t know) “vá falar com ela” his mother whispers to him. joão gets up, making his way to the home he has spent multiple nights over as a child.. multiple family pictures including a photo of you and joão, he sighed and smiled to himself as he takes a photo of it, he hears a familiar clicking, he looks to his left to see you walking toward him, not even looking at him. joão’s heart ached as you walked by him without even looking at him. “y/n.. please..” he says, you stop in your tracks, but continue walking. he walks up to you and turns you around to face him, the teary eyed boy looks at you, he noticed your gaze wasn’t the same as before, it was a cold different gaze. broken, “why did you do that..” you said with no expression on your face. “i’m sorry..”

“but you aren’t.”

he looked defeated to say the least. “if you were sorry you wouldn’t have done what you did, you fell out of love with me, and it’s okay. i’ve accepted it. but the reason why you were okay with it at first was because you knew i was in love with you, but now you aren’t because i’m with someone who actually loves me. it’s time for you to accept it joão, it’ll never be the same.” your words came out like a knife to his chest, your eyes started to water. someone who was once your best friend was now nobody to you. he saw a side of you nobody as seen, but unfortunately you loved him more than he loved you. truth be told but joão never fell out of love with you.

you walked away a few tears falling down your soft cheeks, you turn around to see joão’s hands covering his face as he heaves, you’ve never seen him cry like this. ever. you wipe your tears as you go back to the table plastering a fake smile, your family not having a single clue in the world about what just happened. few minutes after joão comes to the living room looking normal. you both exchanged a weak smile, your heart ached as well as his.

months pass by, you broke up with your boyfriend, joão’s loan at barca ended, and it’s officially euros season. despite avoiding watching football because of joão, you decided to start watching with your father, but tonight you’re at a hotel in berlin, 10 minutes away from the stadium. you posted on your story the place you were at. drinking a glass of wine as you lay on your bed doing your work on your computer, it was close to 2 am, you start to shut everything off as you hear the storm hitting your hotel window, you pull the covers over your body until you heard banging at your front door. afraid but you got up to look at the peephole to see a soaking wet joão. you open the door as he looks at you with bloodshot eyes, he’d been crying. he brings you in a tight hug as you hug him back, he takes in your scent, you always smelt so good.

“what’s wrong j?”

“too much on my mind.” he says drained, you brought him in to sit on the couch, you open a can of his favourite beer as he smiles to you, “you remembered” you giggled, “okay come on let’s talk” you said

you found out that joão missed a penalty shot and he just feels so bad, you understand his concern so you let him stay the night, you both sleep on the opposite sides of the bed. you started mindlessly scrolling on your phone now that you were wide awake. “i can’t stop thinking about you.” joão faces you

“joão please-“

“no y/n- please listen to me. you are my soulmate, my everything. you’re the only person that gets me..” he says as he gets up, walking up to you. “how can i let go of you? you are so fucking beautiful. you have the most beautiful skin, most beautiful hair, and your voice sounds like honey. all i think about is you. ever since i saw you moved on my heart yearned for you. i forgot how amazing you were. i was stupid, all i thought about was my career but completely forgot why i was in it for, i wanted to make money for you. but i got caught up with everything. please y/n.. i can’t lose you..” he says as he gets on his knees, hugging your body as he places kisses all over your body, “please y/n.. say something.” he says as he places a kiss on your cheeks, as well as briefly placing a kiss on your lips. you were crying as well as he was. you wanted to hug him and kiss him to let him know that everything will be okay.

“no- joão. please stop. it’s ruined. you ruined it. it can’t be fixed” you say as you pushed him off, “before i would’ve taken you back in a heartbeat. believe me. but now you don’t deserve me. i think you should leave” you held back your tears

he nodded, defeated. making his way to the door, he opened the door as he looked back at your teary eyes. “i would wait a million years for you. eu te amo” he walked out, your heart aching.

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

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

I LOVE YOUUUU - xoxo saira 🤍.

skincare

pairing: joão felix x reader

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

warnings: none

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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