Joao Felix Fluff - Blog Posts

OKAY SO LIKE HEAR ME OUT yk how joao went to a grand prix once? (idek if thats true i js saw a pic of him with hugo on what i think is the spa track) anyway for this req we'll pretend that's true

so ferrari invites him to his garage (bc we're both tifosi ykyk) anyway and he's like curious and stuff about the car and kind of gets close to it to inspect and stuff

and then reader (who is a ferrari engineer) is like watching him from afar and basically in love (idk bro)

so then hes like looking around to see if someone is there he can ask and he sees reader and he js starts bombarding her with questions and she's answering all of them and yeah !!

idk what to do with the rest of the plot so i trust you to make it better than what my shitty ass mind can put into words <33

❦ - forza ferrari.

warnings:: i wrote this in between history and math revision

writers notes:: running out of things to say! typical me 🤍. anyway the body in the moodboard is tea 😮‍💨.

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

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the ferrari garage smells of oil, rubber, and the sharp scent of metal. it’s familiar to you, your second home, really. a place where everything moves in a rhythm, a choreography of machines, engineers, and the relentless hum of technology.

you’re focused on your task, checking over blueprints, ensuring everything’s in order for the next big race. the noise around you is a constant buzz, but it fades away as you work. that is, until you feel a shift in the air, a subtle disturbance, like the way the world changes when something important is about to happen.

you look up just in time to see joão walking into the garage.

it’s surreal, really. he’s here. in your world. the world of precision and speed.

you try not to stare, but your eyes follow him anyway. his presence is hard to ignore. you’ve seen him on the pitch countless times, but here, in this space, he’s a different kind of curious, a different kind of focused. he’s not playing football; he’s inspecting a car. and the way he steps around the ferrari SF90 with wide eyed interest makes your heart skip a beat.

he leans down, inspecting the tires, his fingers grazing the rubber as he mumbles to himself. he’s clearly fascinated, but there’s no one around to give him answers. and that’s when his eyes scan the room, searching for someone to help him out.

he sees you.

and just like that, it’s as if everything else disappears. his focus shifts from the car to you, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. for a second, you think he’s going to keep walking, but instead, he strides over to you with that easy confidence of his.

‘hey,’ he says, a warm smile spreading across his face. ‘can you explain this to me?’

you blink, a little caught off guard. you’ve never been that close to him before, not like this. but you swallow down the nervous flutter in your chest and nod, trying to focus on the task at hand.

‘sure,’ you say, clearing your throat. ‘what are you curious about?’

he gestures toward the car. ‘everything. how does it work? what makes it so fast? these tires, they look different from what i’ve seen before. are they special?’

you chuckle softly, glad for the distraction. it’s easy to talk about something you love, and despite your nerves, you find yourself answering his questions one after another. he listens intently, nodding and leaning closer as if he can’t get enough.

it’s almost adorable, how much he’s into this. how interested he is in something that’s not football, something that’s all yours. he’s not just asking questions for the sake of it; he’s genuinely intrigued, and it shows in the way his eyes light up with every answer you give him.

you talk about the aerodynamics, the engine power, the design, everything you’ve spent years learning. and with every word, joão leans in just a little closer, his gaze never leaving you.

you’re trying so hard not to blush under the weight of his attention. it’s a little too much, if you’re being honest. and then, when you explain the tire specs, he laughs, a low sound that makes your heart race.

‘you really know your stuff, huh?’ he says, his voice teasing but warm.

you smile, shrugging. ‘i guess so. it’s my job.’

he studies you for a moment, as if weighing something in his head. then, with a slight smirk, he leans even closer, his hand grazing the side of the car. ‘so… do you work on this exact car? or are you just the tire expert?’

his teasing tone makes you laugh, and you find yourself more relaxed than you thought you would be around him.

‘i’m involved in pretty much every aspect of the car,’ you say, trying to sound casual, but it’s hard when he’s this close, his breath warm against your skin.

his eyes flicker between your face and the car, and there’s something in the way he’s looking at you now, something a little different. it’s more than curiosity about the car,it’s genuinely enjoying your presence. and before you can think of anything else to say, he breaks the silence with that grin of his.

‘that’s incredible,’ he says, and this time, his smile is softer, more personal. ‘i never really thought about everything that goes into it. it’s more than just speed, huh?’

you nod, feeling that quiet connection spark between you both. ‘a lot more. it’s a lot of people working together, engineers, designers, mechanics, everyone.’

‘and you’re one of the people making it all happen,’ he says, his voice quieter now. almost like a secret between you.

you’re not sure why, but his words make your heart race. and it’s then you realise, he’s not just curious about the car. he’s genuinely interested in you, in your world.

‘yeah,’ you say softly, a smile tugging at your lips. ‘i guess so.’

there’s a brief silence, just the two of you standing there, the hum of the garage all around you. you can feel his gaze on you, the way he’s looking at you now. it’s not just admiration for the work you do, it’s something more. and before you can think of anything else to say, he breaks the silence with that grin of his.

‘well, in that case, i guess i’ll have to keep asking you questions then,’ he says, his voice light, but there’s something else behind it, something that has your chest tightening in anticipation.

you’re not sure what to say, but you can’t stop smiling. ‘you’re welcome to.’

and as you stand there, caught in his gaze, surrounded by the roar of engines and the soft hum of ferrari’s world, you realise, maybe, just maybe, this curiosity between you and joão? it’s just the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

❦ - sorte.

warnings:: none.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hi! Sorry to bother you

Can i ask for one of joao were reader helps him to forget about his ex but later she founds out They are still talking from time to time but Its actually no how she thinks? Like angst with reader being totally insecure but with happy ending

Thank you!!

❦ - silver springs.

summary:: he said he was over her. u believed him, until u saw her name light up his phone. you tried not to care. but it’s hard to love someone who still lives in their past. you just wanted to be chosen. fully. completely. loudly. and in the end… he did.

warnings:: angst?

writers notes:: TIME CAST A SPELL ON ME. BUT YOU WONT FORGET ME? anyways yea

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

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you didn’t ask about her.

not when he first told you there was someone. not when his voice got tight talking about her. not when you noticed the way he paused before answering questions like “how long were you in love with her?”

you just listened. held his hand. let him exist without pressure. because god, you knew what heartbreak looked like, and his had barely scabbed over when you walked in.

you didn’t ask for more than what he could give. just stayed close enough to be steady. never too much. never too loud.

and he started smiling again.

he laughed with you. he kissed you like he meant it. he held you like he didn’t want to let go.

so you told yourself it was real.

even when something in your chest whispered, not quite.

even when his phone would light up with her name late at night and he’d pretend he didn’t see it.

you found out accidentally.

you weren’t snooping. not really. you were just grabbing his charger off his nightstand while he showered, and his phone buzzed, and it was instinct to glance. just a glance.

"hey. i saw your interview. you looked good."
from her.

your stomach dropped.

you didn’t open the chat. didn’t need to. your hands were already shaking.

you hadn’t heard her name in months. he hadn’t mentioned her in even longer.

and now… this?

your mind spiraled quietly. you didn’t say anything when he came out of the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips, smile lazy and soft when he saw you. you smiled back.

but it didn’t reach your eyes.

you started noticing more after that.

the way he’d text with his phone tilted away from you. the way he’d get quiet sometimes, scrolling, jaw tense. the way he’d answer a call in the other room and come back like nothing happened.

it could’ve been anyone.
but it wasn’t.
you knew.

still, you didn’t say a word.

you started pulling away in small ways. cancelling plans. not staying the night. letting his calls go to voicemail. when he noticed, you just said you were tired. busy. nothing’s wrong.

and he believed you.

or maybe he didn’t. maybe he was just waiting for you to say it.

you almost did one night, when he took you to dinner and held your hand the whole time and kissed your forehead and said “i love you” like it was a truth he’d always known.

your heart cracked.

because you wanted to believe him.

but her name still sat in your bones. still itched under your skin. still whispered you’re second best. always were.

you cried that night when he fell asleep beside you, arms around your waist, breath warm on your neck.

silent tears. shaking shoulders.

he didn’t wake up.

you told yourself you were overreacting.

that maybe they were just friends. maybe they talked sometimes and it didn’t mean anything. maybe he’d moved on and you were the one stuck.

but you knew what heartbreak looked like.
you knew what grief looked like.
and sometimes, you still saw it in his eyes.

like he was still waiting for her shadow to disappear.

and you?
you were just holding the light.

you didn’t mean to see it.

again, you weren’t looking.

you were sitting on his couch one rainy afternoon, one of those quiet days where the world feels far away. he was in the kitchen making you tea, hoodie sleeves pushed up, soft music playing from his phone.

it buzzed once.

then again.

your name was on the mug he was holding.

her name was on the screen.

and you looked. again.

"still can’t believe it’s you in the red kit. i always thought you'd wear blue."
"you still look good."

your hands curled into fists.

it was always her.

her voice in his phone.
her ghost in his ribs.
her name on the edge of every silence.

you stood before you could think about it. grabbed your coat. didn’t wait.

you didn’t answer when he called.

not that night. not the next morning. not after the fifth voicemail where his voice got quieter, sadder, more confused.

you couldn’t do it.

you couldn’t be the one he loved when he was lonely. the one who kissed him back while he kept someone else alive in the back of his mind.

you weren’t a substitute. you weren’t a second choice.

you wanted to be the one.

he showed up three days later.

hair a mess, hoodie half-zipped, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept since you left.

you didn’t open the door at first.

he knocked once. then again.

then softly: ‘please, baby.’

and you opened it. because even though you were angry. even though your chest ached. even though your pride begged you not to—

you still loved him.

and he looked at you like he was afraid you didn’t anymore.

‘why didn’t you tell me you still talk to her?’

his face fell.

he didn’t lie. he didn’t deflect. he just said quietly, ‘because i knew how it would look.’

you didn’t speak.

‘i should’ve told you,’ he said. ‘but i didn’t know how. i didn’t want to hurt you.’

‘but you did.’

he looked down. ‘i know.’

he stepped closer, hands open, not touching.

‘i don’t love her anymore,’ he said.

you blinked.

‘i don’t want her back. she was my past. you—’ he exhaled. ‘you’re my now. my always, if you’ll let me be that.’

‘then why talk to her at all?’

he hesitated. then, gently:
‘because closure’s not always clean. sometimes it lingers. sometimes people try to keep a piece of you even when they shouldn’t.’

‘and you let her?’

his eyes met yours. honest. hurting.

‘i let her talk. but i didn’t answer back in the ways that matter. not anymore. not since you.’

you didn’t say anything for a long time.

the rain tapped on the windows. the silence filled every crack in your chest.

then you whispered, ‘do you still think about her?’

‘not the way i think about you.’

he reached out. touched your hand.

‘when you laugh,’ he said, ‘i don’t think of her. when you fall asleep on my chest, i’m not dreaming of anyone else. when you kiss me, i forget what it felt like to lose before you.’

tears filled your eyes.

‘i never wanted to be a replacement, joão.’

‘you’re not,’ he said, voice breaking. ‘you’re everything i didn’t know i needed.’

you let him hold you after that.

not because it fixed everything.

but because love, real love, is messy. it stumbles. it bleeds. it breaks open and still reaches forward.

and he reached for you.

held you like he’d never let go again.

whispered i’m sorry into your hair a hundred times.

kissed you like he meant forever.

and maybe it wouldn’t always be perfect.

but for the first time, it was real.

and this time, it was yours.

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

❦ - ours.

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

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

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

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

it was supposed to be a one time thing.

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

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

but then you missed your period.

then the nausea started.

then the two pink lines stared back at you.

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

pregnant.

with joão’s baby.

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

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

so you texted him.

can we talk?

his response was almost immediate.

of course. you okay?

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

not really. can you come over?

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

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

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

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

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

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

he blinked. once. twice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you blinked, tears stinging your eyes.

‘you’re not?’

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

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

something kind. something real.

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

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

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

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

it had been three weeks since you told joão.

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

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

he wasn’t just present. he was trying.

but still, it was complicated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you blinked. ‘how do you know that?’

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

you snorted. ‘okay, fair.’

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

‘what’s this?’

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

you opened it slowly.

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

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

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

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

‘joão…’

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

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

your heart thudded in your chest.

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

he hesitated for half a second.

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

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

it was real.

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

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

you nodded slowly, heart full.

‘okay,’ you whispered. ‘we try.’

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

maybe it was just the beginning

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

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

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

Hopefully the plot makes sense for you😭

❦ - in a good way.

summary:: what the req says.

warnings:: i wrote this half asleep

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

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

joão wasn’t supposed to be here.

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

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

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

it was exhilarating. and terrifying.

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

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

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

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

but then, the match got even more intense.

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

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

and then he saw you move.

you were already sprinting before the ball even made contact.

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

you weren’t going to let it drop.

and you didn’t.

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

but the momentum carried you too far.

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

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

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

his entire body went cold.

the gym fell silent.

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

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

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

and then

you sat up.

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

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

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

but you were okay.

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

and then the game.

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

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

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

all he could focus on was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘you love me.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘okay. come on.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you grinned, resting your head against his shoulder.

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

but you weren’t complaining.

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

❦ - my kind of man.

summary:: what the req says.

warnings:: none!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘yeah,’ you say softly. ‘i do.’

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

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

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

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

‘we’d be lucky,’ he murmurs.

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

then, he reaches into his pocket.

your breath catches.

‘joão—’

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

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

the world tilts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s here. it’s real. and it’s yours.

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

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

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

so yeah idk i hope this was understandable

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

❦ - my girls curls.

summary:: what the req says

warnings:: none

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

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

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

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

the second thing? your hair.

his eyes widened the second he saw you.

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

‘woah.’

you looked up, amused. ‘woah?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

bottles. everywhere.

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

‘…this is all for your hair?’

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

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

‘no, because i use that.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you laughed. ‘told you.’

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

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

you sighed, already knowing where this was going.

‘joão—’

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

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

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

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

he opened his mouth, then closed it.

you smirked. ‘yeah. exactly.’

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

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

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

‘you look really good,’ he admitted.

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

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

‘absolutely not.’

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

‘so, how long does this all take?’

‘on a good day? an hour and a half.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you smirked. ‘absolutely not.’

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

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

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

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

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

you snorted. ‘kinda?’

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

‘okay, really cute.’

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

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

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

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

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

HELLLO TIS I

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

anyhow here to req a joao fic !!

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

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

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

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

BYEYEYYE HAVE A GOOD DAY / NIGHT AND ILYYYYY <33

MWAHHHH

❦ - delicate.

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

warnings:: none?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his jaw dropped. ‘all the time?’

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

joão wasn’t hearing any of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

‘so what, you just suffer in silence?’

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

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

‘it’s literally the same thing.’

he huffed, still clearly displeased.

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

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

‘you don’t, do you?’ he accused.

‘joão—’

‘unbelievable.’

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

you sighed, knowing exactly what was coming.

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

‘babe, really?’ you groaned.

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

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

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

‘does it hurt?’

‘not really.’

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

you watched him work, your chest tightening.

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

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

you smiled, threading your fingers through his hair.

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

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

you laughed, letting him finish bandaging your feet.

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

‘no more competitions for a while, right?’

‘not for a few weeks.’

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

‘yes, doctor félix,’ you teased.

he smirked. ‘damn right.’

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

you sighed, relaxing into him.

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

but joão wasn’t done.

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

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

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

‘oh my god.’

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

‘are you okay?’

‘joão, i stubbed my toe.’

‘that’s how it starts!’

you groaned, shoving his face away.

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

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

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

‘so do you.’

‘yeah, but i don’t bleed for it.’

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

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

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

you smiled, tucking your head under his chin.

‘you already do, in your own way.’

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

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

RIGHT. this is absolute blasphemy where are the joao fics at?? I SWEAR TO GOD yall are driving me insane like fym i have to write them MYSELF? excuse me. SO. send me joao requests if you wish because on god i’ve had enough of this nonsense 🤬. i miss when there was new fics every week like some of them were absolutely peak writing like i think ab that kiss me thru the phone fic every day #bringthatback 💔. @barcapix i love u pls don’t ever die bc i need you to make more fics b4 this flu sends me to heaven ❤️. OKAY LOVE YOU GUYS

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

love your writing so much!!!!

❦ - priorities.

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

warnings:: none

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

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the moment you saw the text, your heart sank.

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

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

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

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

three dots appeared. then disappeared. then reappeared again.

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

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

fine. whatever.

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

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

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

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

but fine. fine.

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

except.

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

you saw him.

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

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

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

he ditched his game.

for you.

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

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

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

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

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

your heart melted. ‘but your coach—’

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

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

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

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

you kissed him.

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

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

‘congrats, amor.’

I know this is such a random request but this recently happened to my cousin and I just randomly thought of how joão would react to his partner accidentally losing her engagement ring around the house.

❦ - lost && found.

summary:: you were running errands in the house until you lost your ring.

warnings:: none?

writers note:: i looooove this! and stay tuned for the rest of my requestsss

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

you swore you had it on. you knew you had it on.

one moment, you were going about your day, doing little things around the house, folding laundry, making coffee, scrolling through your phone, and the next, your left hand felt oddly... light.

your stomach dropped.

'joão,' you called hesitantly, already frantically patting down the couch cushions.

he strolled in, freshly showered and still toweling his hair, oblivious to your rising panic. 'hm?'

'i, uh, i think i lost my ring.'

his face froze mid-sentence, towel dropping onto his shoulders. 'what?'

'my ring,' you repeated, heart pounding. 'i was just, doing stuff around the house, and now it's gone.'

joão blinked at you, processing, then immediately stepped into action. 'okay. it's fine. we’ll find it.' his voice was calm, but you could see the tiny crease forming between his brows.

'i swear i didn’t take it off,' you said, running a hand through your hair. 'i would've noticed.'

joão hummed in understanding, already lifting pillows off the couch. 'well, it didn't just vanish. let's retrace your steps.'

and so began the great ring hunt of the félix household.

joão took it very seriously. he checked under furniture, inside the sink drain (even though you swore you hadn't been near it), inside your shoes, every possible and impossible place. you had never seen him so focused, muttering little theories under his breath.

'maybe it got caught in a blanket?'

'did you check the pockets of your jeans?'

'what if it fell in the coffee machine?'

'why would it be in the coffee machine?'

'i don’t know! rings are small, amor!'

you tried to stay calm, but anxiety was creeping in. it wasn’t just any ring, it was the ring. the one joão had spent weeks picking out, the one he slipped onto your finger with that soft, lovestruck look in his eyes.

'maybe i'm not responsible enough to be engaged,' you mumbled dramatically, sinking onto the floor.

joão, who had just finished checking under the rug, turned to you with an exasperated chuckle. 'don’t be ridiculous.' he crouched in front of you, hands cupping your face. 'you lost it in the house. we’ll find it. and even if we don’t, which we will do you really think a missing ring is gonna change anything?'

you sighed. 'no, but..’

before you could finish, joão's eyes flickered to something behind you.

he reached over, plucked something off the floor, and held it up between his fingers.

your ring.

you gasped. 'where was it?!’

joão smirked. 'under the coffee table. you must have knocked it off somehow.'

relief flooded you as he slid it back onto your finger.

'you’re stuck with me again,' you teased, flexing your hand.

he grinned, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 'i was never worried about that.'

Do you think you can do R dragging joao to the shops with her?

❦ - retail therapy.. or not?

summary:: you dragged your boyfriend joao out shopping with you. despite all his protests he ends up enjoying his time.

warnings:: none.

writers note:: anyways so i’ve hired the amazing @cherryloveshs to make the moodboards for me bc she sent me diabolical requests so for the next 20 fics you’ll see the moodboards i told her to make for me 😍.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

you tugged joão’s hand, practically dragging him along the sidewalk as he trailed behind you, every step exaggerated like you were pulling him toward impending doom rather than just another store.

'come on,' you whined, glancing back at him. 'it won’t take long, i promise.'

he shot you a look, one eyebrow raised. 'that’s what you said at the last store,' he muttered, but there was no real annoyance in his voice, just that playful exasperation he always threw your way when you got him into situations like this.

'yeah, well, that store didn’t have what i was looking for,' you said, matter-of-fact, giving his hand another tug.

joão sighed dramatically, tilting his head back to stare at the sky like he was praying for strength. 'how many stores do you need to go to?'

'just this one,' you promised, fully aware there was a shoe store two doors down you’d 'accidentally' stumble into afterward.

he grumbled under his breath but followed anyway, fingers still laced with yours. when you stepped inside, he blinked at the rows of clothes. 'this place is huge,' he said. 'are we living here now?'

'only if you keep complaining,' you shot back, grinning.

joão immediately put on his most put-upon boyfriend face, shoulders slumping. 'if i die in here, tell everyone i loved them,' he said, loud enough that a nearby shopper snorted a laugh.

rolling your eyes, you started flipping through a rack. 'you’re so dramatic.'

'you brought me here!'

'you said you needed new jeans!' you reminded him.

'yeah, but i thought we’d pop in and out, not... whatever this is,' he gestured vaguely at the racks surrounding you. then, with a sigh that screamed long-suffering, he spotted one of those little benches near the fitting rooms and made a beeline for it. 'i’ll just... sit here and age gracefully while you look.'

'nope,' you said quickly, grabbing a shirt off a hanger and tossing it at him. 'you’re trying stuff on too.'

'why?'

'because you always complain about shopping and then end up loving half the things you try on,' you pointed out. 'don’t think i forgot last time when you acted like you were dying and walked out with three new hoodies.'

'hoodies are different,' he said, already examining the shirt you handed him. 'they’re... comforting.'

'uh-huh,' you deadpanned. 'go. fitting room. now.'

'yes, boss,' he grinned, shooting you a wink before disappearing into the changing room.

while he was inside, you grabbed a couple more things you thought he’d like, hanging them over your arm. you could hear the faint sounds of him grumbling about tags and buttons, which only made you smile.

'ready?' he called.

'let’s see it.'

the door creaked open, and joão stepped out, adjusting the sleeves of the shirt. you blinked.

'okay... rude,' you said. 'you’re not allowed to look that good after complaining this much.'

he glanced in the mirror, a slow smirk spreading across his face. 'not bad, huh?'

'get it,' you said immediately. 'no arguments.'

'thought you said you wouldn’t take long,' he teased. 'you’re the one making me try stuff on now.'

'yeah, yeah,' you waved him off, already scanning for a pair of jeans you thought would go with the shirt.

he laughed, heading back into the fitting room. 'this is payback for making you watch football highlights, isn’t it?'

'maybe,' you grinned.

a little while later, you both emerged with a couple of items draped over your arms, way more successful than joão had anticipated. as you headed toward the checkout, he leaned in and murmured, 'so... coffee after this?'

'of course,' you said. 'thanks for surviving.'

'barely,' he grinned. 'but i’ll need that coffee for recovery.'

'you’ll live,' you teased.

as you left the store, bags in hand and his fingers slipping back into yours, he glanced at you with a soft smile. 'you’re lucky i like you,' he said.

'oh, i know,’ you shot back, laughing as he bumped his shoulder into yours.

and despite all the whining, he never once let go of your hand.

João req! How he would spend the readers birthday for the first time together?

❦ - yours for the day.

summary:: it’s your first birthday with joao, and he made sure to make it the best day you’ve ever had.

warnings:: uhhh none?

writers note:: i don’t think i’ve ever been so happy to see a request in my life because i had a draft vers of sum similar but i didn’t like it so bc of this i was able to give it a glow up and give it use to thank you darling! 🩵

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

your birthday had never been a big deal to you. sure, you appreciated the messages, the cake, the occasional gift, but you never expected much. so when joão asked you a week before what you wanted to do, you just shrugged.

‘whatever you want, i’m happy with.’

he had frowned at that, shaking his head. ‘nah, this is your day. i want to make it special.’

you didn’t argue, just smiled and let him plan. and now, waking up to soft kisses trailing along your shoulder, you figured you’d made the right choice.

‘bom dia, meu amor,’ he murmured, voice still heavy with sleep. ‘happy birthday.’

you turned over to face him, heart melting at the sight of his messy hair and sleepy smile. ‘thank you.’

he kissed your forehead before getting up. ‘stay in bed, i’ll be right back.’

you obeyed, stretching under the covers, wondering what he was up to. moments later, he returned with a tray, fresh fruit, pastries, a cup of coffee just the way you liked it.

‘breakfast in bed?’ you teased, sitting up.

he grinned. ‘of course. only the best for my birthday girl.’

you laughed, taking a bite of a flaky croissant. ‘if this is how you do birthdays, i might start liking them more.’

joão’s eyes softened as he watched you. ‘that’s the goal.’

the morning passed lazily, the two of you tangled in each other, talking about everything and nothing. he didn’t rush you, didn’t push any plans, just let you enjoy the slow start to the day.

eventually, he pulled you up from bed. ‘come on, we’ve got places to be.’

‘where are we going?’

he smirked. ‘not telling.’

you groaned, but let him lead you outside, where his car was waiting. the drive was peaceful, his hand resting on your thigh as he hummed along to the music.

when he finally parked, you blinked in surprise. ‘joão…’

he had taken you to an art museum, one you’d mentioned in passing months ago, saying you’d love to visit someday. you hadn’t expected him to remember.

‘you said you wanted to come here,’ he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘thought it’d be a nice way to spend the afternoon.’

your chest warmed at the thoughtfulness. ‘this is perfect.’

he smiled, grabbing your hand as you both walked inside.

you wandered through the exhibits, taking your time, soaking in the art. joão wasn’t the biggest art guy, but he listened when you talked about your favorite pieces, nodding along even when he didn’t fully get it.

at one point, he pulled you aside, his eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘if you could steal one painting and no one would ever know, which one would it be?’

you bit your lip, scanning the room before pointing to a serene landscape painting. ‘that one.’

he chuckled. ‘good choice. mine would be that weird abstract one over there.’

you laughed. ‘of course it would.’

after the museum, he took you to a cozy little restaurant, another place you’d mentioned wanting to try. the dinner was perfect, filled with laughter and quiet moments where he just looked at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen.

when you got back home, you were sure the day was over. but joão had one more surprise.

he led you to the living room, where a small box sat on the table. ‘open it.’

you shot him a look. ‘joão, you didn’t have to—’

‘just open it,’ he insisted, grinning.

rolling your eyes fondly, you lifted the lid. inside was a delicate necklace, a small charm in the shape of a star hanging from the chain.

‘because you’re my estrela,’ he murmured, fastening it around your neck.

you swallowed past the lump in your throat, turning to him. ‘this is…’

he cupped your face, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. ‘i just wanted you to know how much you mean to me. i hope today was everything you wanted.’

you smiled, pulling him into a hug. ‘it was perfect. you’re perfect.’

he chuckled, kissing your temple. ‘happy birthday, meu amor.’

and for the first time in a long time, you really, truly loved your birthday.

❦ - is this a curse..?

summary:: you and your boyfriend sneak into the abandoned end of winter wonderland and you come across this alleged fortune teller who ends up making you two do side quests.

warnings:: none?

writers note:: this concept was honestly really old bc it was originally made in bangladesh when i visited an abandoned theme park so can’t lie bc i found the draft version in my notes app so i just fixed it up fast asf but yea hope yall like it bc i found it funny. joao is giving cave diver in this so i wouldn’t be surprised if he willingly went into the nutty putty cave by choice?

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

‘are you sure this place isn’t haunted?' you asked, eyeing the flickering carnival sign overhead.

'only one way to find out,' joão grinned, pulling you forward. the fairgrounds were technically closed, but a gate left half open practically invited mischief. and you, against better judgment, followed him in.

'if a clown jumps out, i’m drop kicking it,' you muttered.

'noted,' he laughed, leading you past rusted rides and empty food stalls. the air smelled faintly of popcorn and nostalgia, tinged with just enough creepiness to keep you on edge.

then you saw it: an old fortune-telling booth with faded gold lettering; madame lulu sees all.

'nope,' you said immediately.

'oh, yes,’ joão countered, already slipping inside. 'come on, where’s your sense of adventure?'

'buried under common sense,' you grumbled but followed anyway.

inside, it was dark, save for a single flickering bulb overhead. a mechanical fortune teller doll stared blankly from behind the glass. joão inserted a coin, and the machine whirred to life, spitting out a card.

he read it aloud: 'seek what’s lost, find what’s true. beneath the dragon’s gaze, waits a clue.’

you stared. '...is this a scavenger hunt?'

'looks like it,' he beamed. 'let’s go!'

'joão..’

but he was already out the door, dragging you along. beneath the dragon’s gaze turned out to be an old carousel with a dragon-shaped ride. underneath it? a tiny tin box with another clue.

'who set this up?’ you whispered.

'ghosts with a sense of humor,' he shrugged.

the hunt led you across the fairgrounds, through funhouse mirrors that distorted joão’s grin into something terrifying (‘nightmare fuel,’ you’d said, laughing), past a cotton candy stand where he tried to steal an old, hardened puff ('that’s a fossil, not food’), and finally, to the ferris wheel.

'this has final boss vibes,' you said, eyeing the rusted structure.

'only one way up,' he smirked. 'race you.'

'you cheat..’ but he was already climbing into a cart, pulling you in after him.

at the top, the city stretched out beneath you, lights twinkling in the distance. joão pulled out the final clue card, reading it quietly. 'sometimes, what you seek isn’t hidden; it’s been beside you all along.’

'corny,' you teased, though your heart did a weird little flip.

he looked at you, smile softer now. 'yeah... but kind of true.'

you glanced away, the view suddenly not as distracting as the warmth of his gaze. 'so, what was the treasure?'

'guess we found it,' he murmured.

and maybe you had. maybe it was the laughter, the chase, the stolen glances. or maybe, just maybe, it was him.

'next time,' you said, breaking the moment with a grin, 'we’re doing something less dramatic.'

'no promises,' he winked.

❦ - amore a milan.

summary:: you and your STUPID boyfriend go on a spontaneous trip to crash a wedding in milan and ending up dancing under the stars.

warnings:: alcohol consumption (it shows 😒), mild trespassing and really shit decision making.

writers note:: my creativity really sparked here and shoutout to baby for being great motivation (don’t end up like chiara kids!) anyways yeah so please enjoy bc i loved writing this! ALSO SHOUTOUT TO THAT ONE DONA MARIA JOAO FIC FROM 2023 THAT WAS PEAK WRITING AND INSPO.

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

you never thought you’d be sneaking around milan at midnight with joão, but here you were, barefoot, holding your shoes in one hand, the other tugging him along as you ran down an empty street, laughter echoing off the buildings.

'we're definitely getting arrested,' you whispered between giggles.

'worth it,' joão grinned, eyes bright in the streetlights. 'best idea you've ever had.'

in your defense, you hadn’t planned on crashing a wedding. it had started with dinner, turned into drinks, and somehow joão noticed the celebration across the street, music spilling out, people dancing on the sidewalk. the next thing you knew, you were slipping into the reception, dancing like you belonged there.

'you've got moves,' you teased, recalling how he’d spun you under the fairy lights, both of you blending seamlessly with the guests.

'you weren't too bad yourself,' he shot back, brushing his hair from his face as you finally slowed down, breathless. 'especially for someone who said they can’t dance.'

'technically, i said i can’t dance well,’ you corrected. 'there’s a difference.'

he stopped, tugging you into an empty plaza. 'prove it.'

'joão, there's no music.'

'doesn’t matter.'

he placed your hands on his shoulders, his finding your waist. you rolled your eyes but let him sway you gently, the world falling quiet around you. just the two of you, under a sky littered with stars.

'you’re ridiculous,' you mumbled, but your smile betrayed you.

'you love it,' he murmured back.

you did. god, you really did.

he leaned in, forehead resting against yours. 'best night ever,' he said softly.

'we literally committed minor trespassing,' you laughed.

'adds to the charm.'

you pulled away just enough to meet his gaze. 'next time, maybe something less illegal?'

'we’ll see,' he grinned. 'no promises.'

and honestly? you didn’t mind the chaos, not when it meant moments like this.

Maybeeee part 3 where they actually meet irl pookie? 🥺💙

But hear me out, they meet on accident not a planned date but wtv you feel like luv we trust in you 🛐

❦ - one wrong digit. part 3.

summary:: fate is real? isn’t it? or is it just a concept we believe from movies. idk bro and neither does joao.

warnings:: SO when i started this series, joao was still a chelsea player so we have to stick to this plot line to save my dignity!

writers note:: happy valentine’s day loves! this woulda taken me ages but i locked in bc this is my valentine’s day gift to you lot! so enjoy this and i lowkey had to speed up the plot so yk!

tags!:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

it was a cold day in kensington where you lived but you had to go to chelsea just for some errands. in the end you stumbled into a cute cafe on the edge of the road.

you don’t expect to see him. not today, not like this.

one second, you’re just going about your day, lost in your own world, and the next, you hear his voice. not through a phone speaker. not filtered by distance. but real,right there.

your brain takes a second to process it. because it’s one thing to facetime someone every day, to hear their voice in your ear at night, to recognize the way they laugh, the way they tease, the way they say your name like it belongs to them.

but it’s another thing entirely to see them in person.

you stop in your tracks, heart hammering, eyes scanning the cafe like you’re hallucinating. but no, he’s right there, standing near the counter, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone, completely unaware that you’re staring at him like the world just tilted on its axis.

you should say something. you should.

instead, your phone buzzes.

joão: what are you doing right now?

your breath catches. you glance up at him again. it’s so weird, seeing him like this, taller than you imagined, the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, how his hoodie is slightly oversized like it always is in your calls.

he still hasn’t noticed you.

nothing. why?

you watch as he reads it. he types for a second, then stops. then starts again.

joão: just wondering.

he lifts his head, eyes flicking up for just a second.

and that’s when it happens.

his gaze meets yours.

for a moment, neither of you move. you don’t breathe. he doesn’t either.

then, slowly, like he’s making sure you’re real, he lowers his phone.

‘no way,’ he murmurs.

you let out a breathless laugh, lost for words

his lips part slightly, like he doesn’t know whether to smile or freak out. ‘this is..’ he cuts himself off, shaking his head. ‘i was literally just texting you.’

you hold up your phone. ‘yeah. saw that.’

he laughs, rubbing a hand over his jaw. ‘okay, this is crazy.’

‘a little bit.’

‘like, what are the odds?’

‘apparently very low,’ you say, eyes still wide. ‘yet here we are.’

he lets out a disbelieving chuckle, then tilts his head at you, something softer in his expression now. ‘so… do we acknowledge that this is probably fate?’

you pretend to think. ‘hmm. or just a very, very weird coincidence.’

he smirks. ‘so, fate.’

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling.

he takes a small step closer, hesitates for half a second, then grins. ‘hi.’

and just like that, you realise, this? whatever this is? it’s real. and it’s happening.

LOVED ur recent fic! Please i need a part two of the them somehow building the courage to FaceTime 🫡 ik u can pull this one off!

❦ - one wrong digit. part 2.

summary:: after weeks of texting && calling, you finally facetime the mystery boy.

warnings:: none

writers note:: LORD IM TRYING SO HARD NOT TO CRASHOUT BC I DID IT SO NICELY BUT IT DIDNT SAVE. so uhm this is the start of my villain arc.. also i was lowkey writing this and started wondering how many sim cards joao has bc he’s been all over the world?? anywho enjoy this!

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

part 1

it starts with texts. then, late night calls. and now, every time your phone rings and his name flashes across the screen, there’s a small part of you that wonders when, if, this thing between you will turn into something more.

you don’t say it out loud, of course. but it lingers, a quiet thought at the back of your mind.

and apparently, it lingers in his too.

joão: you ever think it’s kinda weird we don’t even know what each other looks like?

weird how?

joão: i mean. we talk almost every day. i feel like i know you. but if i passed you on the street, i wouldn’t even realize it.

you hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard. because he’s right. it is weird. but at the same time, there’s something safe about this, about not knowing.

maybe that’s what makes this different.

there’s a long pause before he replies.

joão: do you want it to stay different?

your heart skips.

do you?

this time, the pause stretches longer.

then, your phone starts ringing. but not the way it usually does. not a normal call.

facetime.

your stomach flips.

for a second, you just stare at the screen, watching his name and the little video icon blink as if waiting for you to decide.

and then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you swipe to answer.

at first, neither of you say anything. the screen takes a second to adjust, and then there he is.

joão félix.

he’s lying in bed, the warm glow of a lamp behind him. his hair is a little messy, and he’s wearing a plain hoodie, but he still looks… well. exactly how you imagined. maybe even better.

his lips part slightly, like he’s trying to find the right words.

‘hi,’ he finally says, voice softer than usual.

you swallow, forcing yourself to focus. ‘hi.’

he shifts, propping himself up on one elbow. ‘so. this is us. finally seeing each other.’

you let out a small laugh, even though your heart is racing. ‘yeah. guess it is.’

he watches you for a second, then smiles. it’s not the kind of smile you’ve seen in pictures, the confident, media-trained one. no, this one is different. smaller. realer.

‘you look exactly how i thought you would,’ he says quietly.

your breath catches. ‘is that a good thing?’

he nods, eyes flickering over your face like he’s trying to memorize it. ‘yeah. really good.’

your cheeks heat up, and you look away, biting back a smile.

‘what?’ he teases.

‘nothing,’ you mumble.

he chuckles. ‘you’re bad at lying.’

‘shut up.’

he laughs again, then shifts slightly, resting his chin on his hand. ‘so, do we do this now? do we start facetiming all the time?’

you pretend to think. ‘hmm. i don’t know. kinda liked the mystery.’

he raises an eyebrow. ‘so you don’t want to see my face?’

you roll your eyes. ‘i didn’t say that.’

he smirks. ‘so you do.’

you sigh dramatically. ‘maybe.’

he grins, and you realize something, this, whatever this is between you, is real. and suddenly, you’re not so scared of where it might go.

you should’ve expected this.

ever since that first facetime call, joão hasn’t stopped calling you. it starts at night, the way your usual phone calls used to be, but now, instead of just hearing his voice, you see him, hair messy from bed, hoodies that are way too big, the soft glow of a lamp making his face look warmer than it already is.

but then, it stops being just at night.

one afternoon, while you’re out running errands, your phone buzzes. you glance down, expecting a text, but instead, it’s another facetime request.

you blink. he’s never called you this early before.

you answer, and immediately, his face appears, squinting slightly against the sunlight.

‘what are you doing?’ you ask, adjusting the phone so he doesn’t get a view of the grocery store aisle behind you.

‘nothing,’ he says, leaning back against what looks like a stadium seat. ‘just finished training.’

you glance at the time. ‘it’s barely been an hour since we last talked.’

he shrugs, a small smirk tugging at his lips. ‘so?’

your stomach does that annoying little flip thing again. you huff, trying to ignore it. ‘so, you’re clingy.’

joão gasps dramatically. ‘clingy?’

‘yes.’

‘you like it,’ he accuses.

you roll your eyes. ‘do not.’

he grins, tilting his head. ‘so if i hung up right now, you wouldn’t care?’

your face heats up. ‘i didn’t say that.’

‘hmm,’ he hums, pretending to think. ‘i’ll let you have this one.’

you shake your head, pretending to be exasperated, but the truth is… you don’t mind. not even a little.

and that’s the problem.

because the more you talk, the more you facetime, the more you catch yourself smiling at your phone like an idiot, the harder it is to ignore the fact that this? whatever this is? it’s starting to feel like more than just a random wrong number that turned into a late night habit.

and you don’t know what to do about it.

❦ - 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.

❦ - lottery.

summary:: reminiscing old memories with your boyfriend.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: istg i make these notes long asf just to prove im not an npc like my writing 😔. but it’s okay! anywho this fic is kinda odd bc i had to ask for reinforcements but enjoy it nonetheless! ALSO THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR LIKE A WHOLE WEEK

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

Joao sat on the kitchen counter, flipping a coin absentmindedly as you were on the floor, legs crossed, sorting through a pile of old photos you had dug out during a lazy afternoon.

‘Look at this one,’ you said, holding up a photo of them at a carnival. Your laugh was light and carefree, and Joao couldn’t help but smile.

‘I remember that,’ he said, hopping off the counter to join you on the floor. He plucked the photo from your hand and studied it. ‘You made me win you that giant teddy bear, and it didn’t even fit in the car.’

You grinned. ‘That wasn’t my fault. You’re the one who refused to stop playing until you won it.’

He leaned back, bracing his arms behind him. ‘I wanted you to be happy.’

‘You always do,’ you said softly, glancing over at him. Your expression shifted into something more tender, like she was seeing him for the first time again.

Joao tilted his head, a small crease forming between his brows. ‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ you smiled, shaking her head as you turned your attention back to the photos. ‘You just… you make me feel lucky.’

His hand brushed against yours as he grabbed another picture. ‘Lucky? You’re the one who changed my life.’

‘Come on,’ you teased, rolling her eyes. ‘You were already João Félix. You didn’t need me.’

‘Maybe not for football,’ he admitted, his voice dropping slightly, ‘but for everything else? Yeah, I did.’

Your laughter softened, and you shifted closer to him, leaning your head against his shoulder.

‘I’d still choose this,’ Joao said suddenly, breaking the silence.

‘Choose what?’

‘This,’ he said, motioning to the clutter of photos, the warm hum of music, the way they fit perfectly together even in the simplest of moments. ‘Us. No matter what, I’d choose this over everything.’

Your heart swelled as you looked up at him. ‘I’d choose this too,’ you whispered.

For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter; no cameras, no stadiums, no noise. Just the two of you, sitting on the floor, lost in memories and each other. Joao reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours as the music faded into the background.

‘Looks like we’ve already won,’ you said with a playful nudge, and Joao laughed, kissing the top of your head.

‘Yeah,’ he agreed, ‘we did.’

❦ - hell n back

summary:: late night pasta, music, wine and your boyfriend. that’s all you need.

warnings:: none

writers note:: yet again another fic for this series i need to save yall from this joao fic drout bc wtf is happening where they at… this is one of many to come!! ALSO I FORGOT WHO THE DIV BELONGS TO BUT CREDS TO THEM!

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

The music played low in the background, Joao’s playlist shuffling between smooth beats and soft melodies. He was in the kitchen, humming under his breath as he worked on his infamous late night pasta. You leaned against the counter, watching him with a mix of amusement and admiration.

‘You’re really taking this chef thing seriously,’ you teased, sipping on your glass of wine.

Joao glanced over his shoulder, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘Don’t act like you’re not about to ask for seconds.’

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t deny it. João wasn’t just good at football; somehow, he had the kitchen skills to match. Watching him like this, relaxed, playful, completely himself, reminded you how much you loved these simple moments with him.

‘You’re proud of yourself, huh?’ you asked as he plated the pasta, garnishing it with a dramatic flourish of parsley.

He slid the plate in front of you with a mock bow. ‘Chef João at your service.’

You burst out laughing. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘Ridiculously talented,’ he shot back, sitting down across from you.

The two of you ate in companionable silence for a few moments, the warmth of the food matching the easy comfort between you. Joao finally looked up, his eyes soft as they met yours.

‘You know,’ he said, twirling his fork, ‘I don’t think I ever told you how much I appreciate this.’

‘This?’ you asked, raising a brow. ‘The pasta? Because I’ll admit, it’s good.’

‘No,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I mean this. Us. You let me just… be. I don’t have to perform or prove anything when I’m with you. It’s like.’ He paused, searching for the words. ‘It’s like coming home.’

Your heart skipped a beat, and you set your fork down, meeting his gaze. ‘Joao, you don’t have to thank me for being here. That’s what we do, right? We take care of each other.’

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. ‘You make it sound so simple.’

‘Because it is,’ you said, reaching across the table to take his hand. ‘I love you, Joao. All of you. Even when you overcook the pasta’

He gasped in mock offense. ‘You didn’t just say that.’

‘I did,’ you said, laughing as he shook his head in disbelief.

‘Fine,’ he said, squeezing your hand. ‘But just so you know, you’re my favorite person. Overcooked pasta and all.’

And in that moment, with the music playing and Joao smiling across the table, you felt it too, this was everything. Simple, steady, and enough.

You gotta give us more dad!joao content! Maybe a fic inspired by the girl dad head cannons you did before! Orrr maybe one where the club hosts a family day for the players!

❦ - la rainha de cobham

summary:: family day at cobham and joao decided to bring you and your two year old daughter

warnings:: none!!

writers note:: dad joao has me WEAK so yk im gonna have fun writing this!! respectfully i love this idea yall are masterminds keep it upppp 😍 also ive started to be more organised w the fics so are we liking it???

word count:: 925

Joao crouched beside his 2 year old daughter, Maya, who stood next to him, proudly wearing her Chelsea kit, clutching her tiny football. Her tiny foot tapped the ball uncertainly before she kicked it, the ball wobbling a few feet away.

‘Golazo!!!’ Joao cheered, lifting his arms dramatically as if she’d just scored in the champions league final.

Maya squealed, chasing after the ball, her brown curls bouncing as she went. Joao laughed, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of your voice calling out his name.

‘There’s my star player,’ you teased as you walked up to him.

‘And there’s my biggest fan,’ Joao shot back with a wink.

‘Number one fan? I’m pretty sure Maya took that title as soon as she was born.’ you teased again, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed, picking Maya up and propping her up on his hip. ‘We’ll call it a tie then.’

Today was special, not just any day at training but the clubs first family training day. Players had bought their nieces, nephews and kids, filling the fields with laugher, squeals and the occasional flying football. For Joao, it was a perfect combination of two things he loved most: football and family.

‘Alright, princesa,’ Joao said, setting Maya down on the grass. ‘You’re in charge of warming up.’

‘Warm up?’ she repeated, her tiny voice filled with curiosity.

Joao nodded, taking her hands and moving her arms in big exaggerated circles. ‘Like this. Big circles, like you’re flying.’

Maya copied him, giggling as her arms flailed. You watched, amused, snapping a few photos on your phone as Joao lead her through his own toddler friendly version of stretches.

‘Can’t let my star player pull a muscle,’ he said with a grin.

When the warm up was over, Joao jogged over to join his teammates whilst you stayed on the sidelines with Maya. She watched her dad intently, her big eyes following him as he weaved through cones effortlessly and passed the ball with his usual finesse.

‘Papa’s fast,’ she said, her voice full of awe.

‘The fastest.’ you agreed, brushing a curl from her face.

A whistle blew, and the coaches announced that it was time for a mini game featuring the kids. Joao immediately jogged over, scooping Maya up and tossing her up in the air.

‘You ready, princesa?’ he asked.

‘Ready!’ she squealed.

Joao and a few other players formed an impromptu coaching squad, dividing the kids into two teams. Maya, of course, was on Joao’s team, and he crouched beside her as he explained the game.

‘Okay, Maya, see that goal over there?’ he asked, pointing to the small net.

She nodded seriously, her little face scrunched in concentration.

‘Kick the ball into the net, and then we celebrate, okay? Big celebrations, like this..’ Joao jumped up and ran in a circle, flailing his arms like he’d just scored the most important goal of his life.

Maya burst out laughing and mimicked him, spinning in circles until she plopped onto the grass, dizzy but happy.

The mini-game began, and the field turned into a delightful chaos of tiny feet chasing after oversized soccer balls. Joao cheered loudly every time Maya so much as touched the ball, his pride evident in the way his face lit up. When she finally managed to kick the ball into the net, he swept her up into his arms, spinning her around.

‘Goal!’ he yelled, his voice ringing out over the field. ‘That’s my girl!’

Maya laughed so hard she had to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

You couldn’t help but smile at the scene, your heart full as you watched Joao seamlessly blend his two worlds.

By the time the game ended, Joao was drenched in sweat but grinning from ear to ear. He carried Maya on his shoulders as you walked back to the sidelines, where the families were gathering for snacks and water.

‘Did you have fun, princesa?’ Joao asked, tilting his head to look up at her.

‘Yes, Papa!’ she chirped, patting his head like he was her personal horse.

‘She’s ready for her contract,” you joked, handing Joao a water bottle.

He laughed, taking a long sip before responding. ‘Give her a few years. She’ll be breaking records in no time.’

Maya let out a tiny yawn, leaning forward to rest her chin on Joao’s head. ‘Tired already?’ he asked, his voice softening.

‘Papa… carry me,’ she mumbled sleepily.

Joao’s expression melted, and he adjusted her on his shoulders, his hands steadying her little legs. ‘Anything for my princesa,’ he murmured.

As the sun began to set, the coaches called for a group photo. Joao joined his teammates, keeping Maya perched on his shoulders. You snapped a few extra photos on your phone, capturing the way her giggles lit up Joao’s face.

‘Send me those later,’ he said as you all walked toward the car, Maya dozing off in his arms.

Joao carefully buckled Maya into her car seat, her tiny body still wrapped in her Chelsea kit. Once she was settled, he leaned against the car door, looking at you with a soft smile.

‘Days like this,’ he said quietly, ‘remind me why I play.’

As you drove home, Maya’s soft snores filled the car, her tiny hand still clutching the mini soccer ball she refused to let go of. Joao glanced back at her in the rearview mirror, his eyes full of love.

‘Best team I’ve ever had,’ he murmured, and you smiled, knowing exactly what he meant.

doing the slamming the door really hard with the car trend with joao felix 😭??

❦ - it’s still intact, right?

summary:: you prank your boyfriend joao by slamming the car door HARD.

warnings:: cussing

writers note:: i love this trend it gives me life && also we know how joao is ab his lamborghini 😒. and i’m sorry yet again for how long these fics are taking me!! lit listening to can’t del barca writing this so we won’t discuss that… i’m finally coming to more of an organised and aesthetic theme for my fics 💔

word count:: 542 - i’m sorry it’s short i’ve got writers block 😭

Joao was standing against his car door, phone in his hand as he was scrolling mindlessly, waiting for you. You approached with a smile on your face, a perfect prank in mind. He was laid back, you knew that but you wanted to see how far you could push him.

‘Finally,’ Joao said as he saw you, sliding his phone into his pocket. ‘Took you long enough.’

‘Good things take time, amor,’ you replied with a wink, as you watched him walk over to the drivers side.

‘Uh huh..’ he muttered, unlocking the car. He held the car door open for you, a small act that you love and never fails to make you smile. You stepped inside, buckling your seatbelt as he shut the door gently.

He went around and got into the drivers seat. As soon as the engine started, you suddenly gasped. ‘Wait! I forgot my phone!’

Joao paused, already halfway through adjusting his mirrors. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah, pretty sure I left it on the sidewalk,’ you said, pretending to fumble with your seatbelt.

He sighed but he didn’t complain, leaning back as you reached for the door. Without hesitation, you slammed it shut - hard.

Joao flinched as the sound could be heard from across the street. ‘What the hell was that!?’ he exclaimed, staring at you with wide eyes and honest confusion.

You really had to fight to keep a straight face. ‘The door wasn’t closing properly. Just making sure it’s secure.’

He blinked at you, then turned to look at the door as if it had just betrayed him. ‘Amor, it’s a Lamborghini, not any old car! You don’t need to..’

‘Oh relax,’ you interrupted, waving him off. ‘I’ll be back.’

Joao shook his head, muttering something under his breath as you stepped out again. This time, when you came back you made sure to slam the door even harder. SLAM.

‘Are you fucking kidding me!?’ Joao exclaimed, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He turned to you, his face a mix of disbelief and exasperation.

‘What?’ you said innocently. ‘It’s sturdy, isn’t it?’

‘Do you know how much this car costs?’ he asked, his voice raising slightly. ‘You can’t just..’

‘Oh, come on, it’s fine!’ you said, laughing as you waved him off again.

Joao groaned, running a hand through his hair. ‘Why do I put up with you?’ he muttered, his mouth betraying him with a smile.

‘Because you love me?’ you teased, leaning back in your seat.

‘Debatable.’ he shot back, but you could see the amusement in his eyes.

For a moment, you two sat in silence as Joao started to drive, the hum of the engine filling the air. You let him relax for a bit, pretending you were done with your antics. But as he reached to change the radio station, he spoke again.

‘When we get out of the car, i’m not letting you close the door.’

You dramatically whipped your head towards him, honestly feeling bad about scaring him like that. ‘Okay, fine.’

‘Just promise me one thing,’ he said.

‘hm?’

‘No more slamming the doors.’

You grinned. ‘No promises.’

Joao groaned again, but his laugh filled the car, making it clear he loves it the way it is.

joao felix headcanons with a s/o who is very sassy and girly?

❦ - joao felix x sassy gf headcannons

summary:: you’re joaos sassy girlfriend (joao is apart of sassy man apocalypse so honestly it’s hard to beat him)

warnings:: none xx

writers note:: yet again another gorgeous request. where have i been you might be asking, and the answer to that is idek myself… guys i’m working on the fics / req it’s js gon take time also i had sm fun writing this bc i fear im sassy myself.! 🤍

ꨄ - first of all, the media EATS YOU GUYS UPPPP. tiktok and everything loves you two because you’re iconic?? and the outfits you two have are chefs kiss

ꨄ - your comebacks are insane, you’re always keeping him on his toes bc you could say something diabolical

exhibit a ; ‘score a hattrick and then MAYBE i’ll let you choose dinner’

ꨄ - he SPOILS you. dior, lv, you name it, if you even mention it, it’ll appear within 2-3 business days

ꨄ - following that up, flowers will appear at your doorstep after you finish work almost every day

(IM LIT RAISING MY OWN STANDARDS WTF)

ꨄ - oh you best believe that you’re dragging him to the nail salon w you. he protested against it at first but honestly he grew to like it.

ꨄ - he’s definitely jealous of the chicks sliding into your dms

‘you got a dm on insta’

‘oh check who it’s from’

‘who’s j2trappy, he looks like a child… why’s he asking if you’re single’

ꨄ - you’re supportive but absolutely extra, you need to be known as chelsea’s favourite wag. you rock up to matches in full glam, hair and makeup wearing joaos shirt but his number and name is bedazzled

ꨄ - he gives you princess treatment but only for you; he’ll open doors for you, carry your shopping bags and treats you as if you’re the queen.

ꨄ - you send him texts during matches so he can read them afterwards

‘why didn’t you pass it there… even i could’ve scored that goal??’

‘okay i’m sorry carino, i’ll pass to you next time’

ꨄ - whenever you’re out shopping you’ll drag him with you for him to give his honest opinion on everything but it always ends in ‘you look perfect in everything’

ꨄ - before big matches, you’ll give him pep talks but always include some sort of attitude

‘okay baby, if you win today, i’ll let you choose the next vacation spot.’

you always said it in a joking tone but he secretly took it to heart and he definitely worked harder

ꨄ - you have a range of nicknames for him, ranging from ‘golden boy’ to ‘my ronaldo in progress’

omg please do joão félix bf head cannons w a non famous girl

❦ - joao felix & non famous gf head cannons

summary: you’re joao felix’s girlfriend except you’re not famous.

warnings: ACTUALLY YES THERE IS!! MAGUI MENTIONED.

writers note: ahhh anon i love this idea, evrb makes fics of the reader being famous but that’s so unlikely!! also ignore the fact that it was so obvious that i made this on the plane and im so sorry for it taking so long!! i’ve been travelling 💔

ꨄ - you’re honestly not too fond of you being all over the media, you like your privacy so joao respects that and his posts w you don’t often include your face

ꨄ - (HOWEVER!! if you want to be part of joaos socials; here is the alternative!!) ; he often is proud to show you off as his girlfriend, leading the media to love you as chelsea’s new hot wag

ꨄ - when the media originally found out, people were skeptical, were you with him only for the money?? comparisons of you and magui appeared for some reason journalists being in maguis favour although it was never really a competition

ꨄ - eventually, news outlets post ‘who is joao felix’s new girlfriend? 10 facts about y/n that you probably didn’t know about’ which is quite ironic considering that they thought you were a gold digger

ꨄ - lowkey dates: for example, instead of a big dinner, he’ll take

you out for late night drives

ꨄ - since he travels a lot, whenever you guys have quiet time tg whether its chatting on the couch or playing fifa tg, he cherishes it

ꨄ - even though you aren’t famous, as soon as the media found out about you your insta followers grew insanely

ꨄ - speaking of insta, he posts you a lot on his story, even if its just you holding his hand

anything with joao felix pleaseeeee 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

girl dad joao felix headcannons ꨄ

my first fic so ntm on how bad it is rn - also wouldn’t he be such a good girl dad??

❦ - starting off w what i alr said; he’s definitely a girl dad and would want her to be alexia putellas or sum

❦ - to be fair that would probably lead into her being a daddy’s girl and she would want to always be by his side

❦ - once she gets hair TRUST hes going to stock up on bows and style her hair all the time

❦ - whenever he goes to the stores with you, he’ll always think of her and buy her clothes & toys etc..

also, he’d also get her stuff from when he’s away for games

❦ - he is DEDICATED to tea parties; for example he has tiaras and everything and even if you post it on social media, instead of being embarrassed, he’d embrace it to his teammates

❦ - joao would always have the newest chelsea kit for her and as soon as she can walk you’re gonna find her wobbling w the ball and he’d be the most supportive person on earth

❦ - this man wouldn’t be able to braid hair no matter how hard he tried, if his princess asked him to do his hair like elsa trust he’d crash out. best this man would be able to do is a ponytail

❦ - occasionally, you’d post videos of her cheering whenever her dad scores a goal for him to see after the match is over

❦ - she is his biggest flex; in the changing rooms he’ll always be talking about her

random player : ‘did you see my insta story, my son can finally count to 10!!’

joao : ‘that’s nice but my daughter can name all the colours in english AND portuguese

❦ - your daughter would often ask to play football in the garden with her dad and she takes after him aggressively screaming ‘GOLAZOOOO’ after a goal