I Said I Was Gonna Spam But I Ran Out Of Ideas So I'm Gonna Come Back When I Get More Xx

I feel like if you openly support a team in the league you are president of, then you should not be the fucking president of said league

ღ - m a s t e r l i s t

who i write for

alejandro balde

lights, camera, golazo - part one

lights, camera, golazo - part two

bound 2

pablo gavi

stadium lights, casablancan nights

ivy

a quiet kind of love.

valentines surprise.

yours to hold.

el mar, el sol y mi corazón.

love && war.

love && war 2.

jamal musiala

for better or for best

the alchemy

boyfriend headcannons

london days.

joao felix

girl dad head cannons

joao felix x non famous girl headcannons

joao felix x sassy girl headcannons

it’s still intact, right?

la rainha de cobham

hell n back

lottery

one wrong digit.

one wrong digit. part 2.

one wrong digit. part 3.

amore a milan.

is this a curse..?

yours for the day.

retail therapy… or not?

lost && found.

priorities.

delicate.

my girls curls.

hector fort

boyfriend headcannons

moonlight

my favourite player.

unexpected but never a problem.

jude bellingham

all eyes on us

kiss of life

madrid, maybe.

not enough for you.

kenan yildiz

i knew you were trouble

cut my hair

in your arms, always.

table for 2.

‘who’s jeans..?’

silent devotion.

first date dilemmas.

match made in turin.

the love of italia.

‘and we created you in pairs.’

hidden in plain sight.

guille fernandez

back to you.

sneaking around.

toni fernandez

playing for keeps.

marc bernal

the best kind of trip.

pau cubarsi

attached by the arms.

kieran tierney

moving on.

taa (trent)

headlines.

charles leclerc

maman et papa.

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

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

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

https://www.tumblr.com/joaosnovia/775907548933013504/hi-could-you-write-something-where-the-reader?source=share

Now to this anon, with that much detail in the fic request you could've written that yourself. Just be talented and shy.

(I'm not the anon)

unfortunately i get requests like this all the time lmaooo! i don’t mind them sometimes they’re funny but i like long detailed ones. you’d be surprised bc i actually have a LONG request w an insane amount of detail in my inbox that im putting off because it actually scared me.. anyways yeah i honestly get them a lot and im glad people are noticing the long requests but in all honesty i really don’t mind 😭.

❦ - a quiet kind of love.

warnings:: none!

summary:: after years together, love has settled into something softer, quieter, but no less powerful. in the midst of gavis busy career, you both find comfort in the small things.

writers note:: i lowkey have to stop myself and put me in my place whilst writing so ignore that…

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

You wake up to the sound of rain against the window, the soft pattering a familiar comfort. The sky outside is overcast, casting a grayish hue across the bedroom, but the warmth beside you makes up for it. Gavi is still asleep, face turned toward you, dark lashes resting against his cheeks. His breathing is slow, steady, the kind of peace he rarely gets when football demands everything from him.

You take a moment to watch him, something you don’t often get to do. Most mornings, he’s up before you, rushing to training, pressing hurried kisses to your forehead before disappearing out the door. But today is different, today, he doesn’t have anywhere to be.

Carefully, you reach out, fingers tracing lightly over his cheek. He stirs at the touch, eyes fluttering open, still hazy with sleep.

‘Morning,’ he mumbles, voice thick and drowsy.

‘Morning.’

He shifts, pulling you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His arms tighten around you, and you laugh softly. ‘You’re warm,’ he mutters. ‘Stay like this.’

You do. You let him hold you, let the quiet settle between you. There’s something about these moments that makes everything else feel far away, the stadiums, the fans, the flashing cameras. Here, he’s just Gavi. Your Gavi.

Eventually, though, hunger wins out. You press a kiss to his temple before slipping out of bed, ignoring his grumbled protests. ‘I’m making breakfast,’ you tell him.

‘Come back.’

‘You can join me in the kitchen.’

He groans but follows you not long after, appearing at the doorway in his sweatpants and one of his hoodies.

‘You look good,’ you tease, pouring him a cup of coffee.

‘Obviously.’ he says, smirking as he takes the mug from your hands. He kisses your cheek in thanks before sitting at the counter, watching as you move around the kitchen.

Breakfast is easy, eggs, toast, some fruit. Nothing extravagant, but it feels like something special just because it’s shared. Gavi reaches for your hand at some point, absentmindedly tracing patterns on your palm while he eats with his other hand. It’s a habit of his, one you don’t think he even notices.

‘You’re staring,’ he says after a while, amusement flickering in his eyes.

‘I like looking at you.’

He huffs out a laugh, cheeks tinged pink. Even now, after years together, he still blushes when you say things like that. ‘Corny,’ he mutters, but he squeezes your hand anyway.

The rest of the day passes in a comfortable blur. You lounge around the apartment, curled up together on the couch while a movie plays in the background. It’s one you’ve both seen a hundred times, but neither of you really care. Gavi’s head rests in your lap, fingers toying with the hem of your sweater, and you run your hands through his hair absentmindedly.

‘Are you happy?’ he asks suddenly, voice quiet.

The question catches you off guard. You glance down at him, brows furrowing slightly. ‘Of course I am. Why would you ask that?’

He shrugs, eyes still on the screen. ‘Just wanted to make sure.’

You pause, then lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. ‘I’m always happy with you.’

That seems to ease something in him. He turns his head slightly, lips brushing against your wrist as he exhales. ‘Good.’

Later that night, as you’re getting ready for bed, he pulls you into his arms again. He’s always been like this, clingy when he’s tired, when he doesn’t have the weight of expectations on his shoulders.

“I love you,’ he murmurs against your skin.

“I love you too.”

It’s simple. No grand declarations, no need for anything extravagant. Just the quiet, steady kind of love that lingers in the spaces between words.

And that’s more than enough.

OH MY GOD DIOS MIOS 🇪🇸🇪🇸🇪🇸

you never fail bro dafuk i wish to have ur talent omds what on earth

Pedri supporting his girlfriend who plays for Barca femeni after she gets hurt at her game?

✮ The Real Winner - Pedri González

pedri gonzalez x barçafemeni!reader

sy: after a sustained head injury, all you need is the comfort (and slight lesson) from your boyfriend to ease you back to normal.

a/n: i did this as a more realistic approach and added our current female players as teammates & i probably yapped too much for this but still (i need to make my fics longer)

⚠️ i have literally only just come across a similar fic to what ive written, but genuinely ive had this in my drafts for around a week now, but still had to finish off the end. so please, there is no copyright intended as i wrote this before the other authors fic, but no communication was present & i wasn’t going to scrap this all away after spending so long writing.

warnings: not really .

“hmph!”

being fouled—again.

after being hurled to the curb by madrid’s opposing player, you swiftly bounce back onto the heels of your feet.

your socks had been rolled down to yours ankles in uneven lengths, your shin pads slipping from their placed position and your jersey covered in dirt and dust.

“c’mon ref, your not gonna call that?!” aitana calls out, whilst alexia—team captain—rushes over to complain.

vicky rushes over to you, with a disconcerting look. “¿oye estas bien? you took a pretty nasty fall there.” (are you okay?).

“yes—yeah im fine,” you grumble hoarsely, narrowing your eyes at the madrid players on the other side of the pitch that were pointing fingers and snickering in your direction.

she gives you a pat on the back, as the ref blows the whistle. you snap your head around, and he’s holding up a yellow card.

“en serio?!” alexia protests, “all im saying is that you made a mistake!”

with a huff, the blonde struts off towards you and vicky, pushing her slidden armband higher up her arm.

“yellow card huh?” vicky says, shaking her head. putellas tuts, hollering to the remainder of your team over.

“i swear they don’t even try to hide the bias, it happens every single game,” kiera argues, jogging over as they all nod in agreement.

salma shuffles in closer, encouraging a group huddle. “look we aren’t going to win this by complaining—we need a strategy.”

“sí but what? they’re brutal tonight sal,” aitana replies. “we’ve tried every strategy in the book so far, and y/ns injured.”

they all glance over to you, their star striker, covered head to toe in cuts and bruises. not to mention, the amount of grass’ turf that clung to your skin was intolerable.

“i’m not injured,” you say firmly, knotting your brows in defence despite the unbearable sting creeping up your ankle.

your teammates don’t look convinced, but they don’t push further. the referee is already growing impatient, gesturing for the game to continue.

alexia claps her hands, “alright team, ten coraje.”

you all disburse, as you limp your way back to your position. to be honest, your ankle was throbbing and with every step it felt like your bone could crack.

everyone’s back in their places, as the whistle blows again. your quick to sprint in impulse, but as soon as you do, you wince in pain.

“joder,” you curse, watching as the ball slips away from you, and to the madrid forward.

your vision wavers as you try to recover, but the pain shoots up to your leg. you swiftly glance at your teammates for help, but they’re all too focused on the game to notice.

unbeknownst to you, pedri is up in the stands—silent and worried. he’s accompanied by ferran and gavi, who equally have the most bewildered expressions too.

“i know this story,” ferran interrupts quietly, “and it doesn’t end well.”

pedri doesn’t say anything, but instead his eyes are fixed on you, with your slow and painful movements. he’s noticed how sluggish you’ve become since the last hit, and even though you tried to look sharper, it wasn’t possible.

“she needs to ask to get subbed off or something. this isn’t doing her or the team any good.” gavi slices through the deafening silence, who’s on the edge of his seat.

it’s true. since the whistle blew, you had lost the ball a good three times, which you could of easily intercepted or won back.

“she won’t,” pedri finally speaks. “she’s too stubborn for that, even if it’s breaking her.”

“y/n! get your head in the game!” hansen orders, giving you a harsh nudge. “we can’t afford to lose this game because you cant focus.”

“i’m trying okay? but my ankle just—”

“you told us you weren’t injured.” she shrugs, running over to the midfield where the hustle was.

unfortunately, she was right but you were too stubborn to confess, but besides there’s no chance you could give up now.

you sigh, rubbing the sweat from your forehead with the back of your arm. you didn’t want to admit it but you were costing them the game; after failed promises you couldn’t live up to.

minutes pass by and you find yourself on your rivals side of the pitch, with the ball close to madrids net, and you find this as a perfect opportunity to shoot it into the goal.

with a sharpe exhale, you push every ounce of power you still have into a jump, as you watch the ball loft into the air.

as you jump, ready to head straight into the net—

—so does madrids defender.

your heads collide mid-air, a stark snap ringing throughout your ears before a wave of pain explodes across your skull.

everything happens so fast. the world tilts and spins and before you know it, your plunged into darkness.

the impact sends you pelting down onto the pitch, rolling onto your side with a loud groan.

the entirety of your vision blurs, a shrill ringing noise overwhelming all of your senses that make you clutch your forehead in pain.

the referee—for once—makes a sensible decision and immediately blows the whistle as your teammates sprint their way over.

each one of them have worry painted all over their faces, trying try their best to comfort you.

“shit—y/n, you shouldn’t of done that,” kiera’s the first to speak, cutting through the haze. but all you can manage is a grunt in response.

“move, move, give her space.” alexia instructs, dropping to her knees besides you.

“i don’t need help,” you mutter, attempting to sit up but failing when another sneer throb shoots through your skull. “it was just a small blow.”

“nada, nada.. you need to get checked out,” vicky says firmly. she also kneels down to the floor, keeping her hand on shoulder to keep you down.

in the stands, pedri continues watching in horror, his hands curled into fists from the first second of contact.

“what’s going on? i can’t see,” pablo nudges ferran for an answer.

“maybe it’s because you’re too short,” ferran snorts and begins laughing. gavi scoffs theatrically, giving the man a forceful push.

pedri shoots them both daggers, clearly not amused. “now’s not the time for jokes hermano.”

“right, sorry,” they both nod and look back to the pitch. from their view, all they can see is that your laying flat on the floor whilst the rest of barça femení are surrounding you.

back on the pitch, the medics are already making their way over but your still trying to argue your case.

you sigh for the third time, “honestly, i’m fine—i can keep playing hermana.”

“this won’t prove that your any tougher,” aitana declares, with an innocence to her tone. “we already know you are, stop fighting it y/n.”

your lips part in objection, until a second pulse of ache pierces through your skull, making you sway.

the medics already have cloths to your temple, thermometers down your throat and pills in their grasps. but once the thermometer beeps, the decisions made.

“that’s it your coming off,” one announces, helping you to your feet. alexia and vicky also help you up, giving you small hugs for support.

salma gives you a kiss of encouragement to your head as your guided off, your head still heavy.

the crowd roars with fury, and you can feel the puncture of the fans’ eyes analysing every single twitch of movement you made.

. . .

the medics room is cold, eerie and in general not a place you’d like to be in. the fan above was moving slowly, almost painfully.

you were lying on the examination table, blinking slowly as you tried to adjust to the light; every sound echoed in your head like its bouncing off cave walls.

“keep your head still please,” the doctor instructs, shining a dainty flashlight into your eyes.

you wince, groaning at the intensity. “ugh do i have to?”

“yes.” he deadpans, moving to the other eye. “you’ve got a grade two concussion, and a potential ankle sprain.”

“what does that mean?” you ask him seriously, as your brain still hasn’t caught up to speed.

“it’s nothing too dangerous. you will just require plenty of rest, and unfortunately, you will miss quite a few m—”

he’s about to continue when he’s interrupted by a loud opening burst of the door. “y/n!”

pedri’s voice makes you finally twist, as he’s at your side within seconds. his hands straightaway reach for your own, warm against your cold fingers.

“what the hell was that?” he demands, his brows furrowed in deep concern. “you could of cracked your skull open and you still wanted to keep playing?”

his tone is sharp, but his touch is gentle even as they cup your face, evenly smoothing over your clammy forehead.

you blink up at him, struggling to focus.

“since when have there been two of you amore?” you ask, completely disregarding his question.

pedri’s frown deepens. “yeah your definitely concussed.”

your smile is lazy and carefree, poking his cheek when he turns to the doctor in ambition for your medical results.

“you’re cute when your angry,” you giggle, your mindset with him a polar opposite of before. your boyfriend doesn’t answer you, so you insist.

“pedrii,” you whine, pulling on the strings of his hoodie to pull him closer. “aren’t you listening to me?”

he snaps out of conversation with the doctor abruptly, his face now so close to yours that you can feel the tickle of his breath. “sí carino, i’m listening.”

“what did i just say then?” you grouse, annoyed.

he hums, obviously not having the briefest idea of what you actually said. “something about the lights?”

“no silly, i said, you’re cute when your angry.”

pedri sighs, “this isn’t funny y/n, you could of gotten seriously hurt.”

“kind of is,” you mumble, the corner of your mouth curving into a vague smile. “your all worked up over me.”

“yeah and earn myself a heart attack,” he lets out with a small chuckle, giving a quick peck to the tip of your nose.

his hands shift up to cradle your jaw, his thumbs brushing delicately over your cheekbones. “you genuinely did scare the shit out of me though,” he admits, his tone softer now. “please never do that to me again.”

“ill try,” you say flatly, shrugging your shoulders.

“no you won’t try, you will.” he corrects, sweeping lost hairs from your face. “i’m never letting you do that to me again.”

“threatening me isn’t going to work pedro,” you snort airly.

“if i say that i won’t let you kiss me until you stop being so reckless, then will it work?” he counters, with a smug smirk.

your eyes widen slightly, “you wouldn’t.”

pedri tilts his head, his smile unwavering. “try me.”

you dramatically sigh, but continue fidgeting with the strings of his hoodie. “that’s so cruel, especially when i’m hurt.”

“call it what you want amor,” he grins, “but if it stops you from terrifying the hell out of me then i’ll do it.”

you huff, looking away, but pedri isn’t having it. he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple, right where the impact was worst. then another, softer this time. and another. his lips trail over every tender spot—your forehead, the side of your head, down to your cheek, as if his kisses alone could erase the pain.

“promise me that you’ll be more careful,” he murmurs between kisses. “please.”

even though you weren’t fully reassured of yourself, rather you simply forget or don’t entirely listen, you do owe him a favour.

for everything.

“i promise,” you whisper, voice small.

pedri still doesn’t look fully convinced, but he holds you tighter anyway, his lips pressing against your hair one more time—one final reminder that, no matter what, he’d always be there to put you back together.

❦ - 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.’

gang i got a req to write a joao felix fic and honestly im contemplating whether i should start writing one bc NO ONE IS MAKING JOAO FICS BRO 💔 so uhhh lmk and give me requests i’ll be making fics ab anyone atp as long as y’all will read it