❦ - My Girls Curls.

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.

Boyfriend ~ (Headcanon) || Joao Felix

● Joao would be the type to draw you in with a quiet smirk and an easy laugh,. He’s confident in a way that feels natural, not arrogant, and his humor is more teasing than showy. He’d catch your gaze in a crowded room, hold it for a beat longer than necessary, and you’d know he’s fully aware of his effect.

● Joao seems like someone who could pair sneakers with a suit and still look like he walked off a magazine cover. He appreciates the finer things but doesn’t feel the need to flaunt them.

● Beneath the charm and confidence, he has a soft side. He’s the guy who would remember the little details about you and surprise you with thoughtful gestures, like playing your favorite song in the car or showing up with your favorite dessert just because.

● On the pitch, he’s fiercely competitive, but in everyday life, he brings that energy into playful banter. Imagine him challenging you to a game of FIFA or a basketball free-throw contest, only to let you win (just barely) and act like it was a monumental effort on his part.

● Off the field, he’s chill—probably loves a good Netflix and chill, cooking at home, or hanging out with close friends. But when it comes to his career or someone he cares about, he’s laser-focused, always striving for more.

● Joao enjoys a cozy night in, cooking together. He’d tease you about your knife skills (or lack thereof) while sneaking tastes of whatever’s on the stove. At the end, you’d both laugh at how messy the kitchen looks, but the food somehow turns out amazing.

● He’d always suggest playing a little one-on-one football at a park or even on a quiet street. You’d try to keep up, and he’d "accidentally" let you nutmeg him just to see that smug grin on your face. He’d then switch gears and school you with a move so smooth you’d wonder if he even tried.

● He probably has a low-key great music taste—some Portuguese classics, R&B, and maybe a surprising love for jazz. He’d hand you the aux cord in the car but wouldn’t hesitate to veto your choices if he thinks his playlist is better. Bonus points if you end up singing along and roasting each other’s voices.

● Joao is the type to randomly decide to drive to a beach or a scenic spot for the day. He’d pack snacks and a blanket, and you’d both sit by the water talking about everything from football to random childhood memories.

● He’d take you around Lisbon or Madrid, showing you his favorite coffee spots, hidden gems, and places that remind him of home. There’d be no rush—just strolling and talking, with him slipping into Portuguese now and then when he’s excited.

● After all the fun, he’d want to end the day with something quieter—maybe lying in bed, talking about dreams, what makes you happy, and what scares you. Joao gives off the vibe of someone who’d really listen and make you feel like the center of his world in that moment.

● His love language is acts of service, and he’s the type to show up with your favorite coffee just because he noticed you were having a stressful day.

● Joao is surprisingly affectionate, often pulling you into his lap while you watch a movie or tracing lazy circles on your hand when you’re out together.

❦ - the alchemy

summary:: jamal wins bundesliga with his girl by his side.

warnings:: none!

writers note:: expect this series to be done today!! bc these are concerningly easy to write esp when you have the idea clear in your mind! i was gonna make it that he won ucl as per @hearts4musiala request but i’m a culer so that doesn’t work w me.. 😔.

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

The stadium was alive with chaos, golden confetti falling like a storm, the roar of fans echoing through the Allianz Arena. Jamal Musiala stood in the middle of it all, his hands clutching the Bundesliga trophy, the weight of it almost surreal. This moment had been everything he’d worked for, dreamed of, but somehow it felt even better because you were here.

You watched him from the sidelines, beaming, your chest swelling with pride. He’d worked so hard for this. You’d seen every late night, every self-doubt he barely let himself voice, and every time he pushed himself beyond what you thought was possible. Now, as he stood at the center of glory, you could see it in his eyes, the quiet disbelief, the golden glow of triumph.

He found you instantly in the crowd. His eyes softened in the way they always did when he looked at you, like you were the only thing grounding him in the chaos. Without thinking, you pushed through the barriers, weaving past teammates and staff who barely noticed your presence in the delirium of celebration.

When you reached him, Jamal didn’t say a word. He pulled you in, one hand still clutching the trophy while the other found your waist, holding you tightly against him. His forehead fell to yours, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, the noise of the world fading into the background.

‘You did it,’ you whispered, your voice catching.

‘We did it,’ he murmured back, his voice low and soft.

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill. ‘This was all you.’

He laughed under his breath, pressing a kiss to your temple. ‘Couldn’t have done it without you.’

You knew he meant it. The nights he’d called you after a bad game, the moments he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders; you’d been there. But this wasn’t about you. It was about him, about the magic he created every time he stepped onto the pitch.

‘Proud of you, Jam,’ you said, your voice barely audible over the noise.

His smile grew, but there was something else in his eyes, something tender and unspoken. ‘Feels like alchemy, doesn’t it?’ he said.

You blinked at him, confused.

‘All the doubt, the pain; turning it into this,’ he explained, lifting the trophy slightly. ‘It’s like gold. It’s like… us.’

Your chest ached at the way he said it. At how easily he compared this golden moment to the love you’d built together.

You kissed him then, soft and fleeting, the kind of kiss that didn’t need words. The world cheered around you, but Jamal only kissed you back, as if this was the real win of the night.

And maybe it was.

fc barcelona out of context

Hi could you write something with jealous reader with Toni Fernandez?

❦ - yo no soy celosa.

warnings:: none

writers notes:: idk what to say bc the thing is, i write these fics in my notes app and then i format them into this app at once so i dont have a lot to say

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you didn’t mean to be jealous.

really, you didn’t.

but it’s hard not to notice the way she touches his arm when she laughs.
how she leans in a little too close.
how toni doesn’t exactly pull away.

you’re not even with him, not officially. just… something in between.

stolen glances. shared playlists. late night calls that end in sleepy “you still there?”s.

but no labels. no promises.

just enough to hurt when it starts to feel like he’s looking at someone else the way he used to look at you.

you don’t say anything at first.

you smile through it. laugh when he mentions her.
pretend like it doesn’t bother you that she’s always around now.

but it builds.

little by little.

until it’s too much to swallow.

it happens after training. you’re sitting on the edge of the pitch, lacing your shoes, trying to avoid looking at them.

she’s there again. tossing toni a water bottle. brushing her hand over his.

he doesn’t flinch.

and you break.

‘you like her or something?’

he blinks, surprised. ‘what?’

you stand, brushing the dirt off your shorts.

‘just wondering if i should stop wasting my time.’

his brow furrows. ‘wasting your time?’

you scoff, suddenly hating how your voice shakes.

‘you look at her like she’s the only girl in the room. and maybe she is to you. but don’t… don’t act like i haven’t been here too.’

there’s silence.

long. sharp.

then toni steps toward you, slow and sure.

‘you think i like her?’

you shrug, arms crossed, trying not to feel so much.

he laughs. not mockingly. just soft. stunned.

‘you’re insane,’ he says quietly. ‘it’s always been you.’

you blink.

‘then why do you let her—’

‘i don’t even see her like that. i only see you.’

his voice is steady now.

he steps closer. closer.

‘you’re jealous,’ he says, and it’s not a question.

you roll your eyes. ‘no, i’m not.’

he smiles, small, crooked. smug.

‘you are. and it’s kinda cute.’

you shove him lightly. ‘shut up.’

he catches your wrist. gentle. sure.

‘don’t ever think i’d want anyone else. you’re the only one that gets to make me nervous.’

and just like that

the ache eases.

just a little.

Losing my mind 'cause life’s a mess and I can’t catch up on the masterpieces my queens have been posting

no but where’s dorothea @barcapix

nothing scarier than being a fan of a fic and then becoming mutuals with the author. like hi shakespeare. big fan of your fake dating au

If you get a star ⭐️ in your inbox. It means your moot appreciates you, and your efforts in the community. Send this to 10 mutuals to continue the love! <3

I LOOOOVE YOU ok bai 🙏.

i would never argue, never talk back, never raise my voice

Hey I love your work can you please do a fic with Gavi were the reader is a professional tennis player and they are trying to get to watch each others matches but it's like really difficult. That would be soo cool. And maybe the reader is like Pedris sister or something. And he wants to see every match of her even if it's in halftime and their like dating since their 15 . Thank you

❦ - love && war.

summary:: you’re both supportive of each others careers but obviously there’s obstacles. matches, opens, you name it. that’ll never let it stop gavi though.

warnings:: no

writers note:: i feel bad for spam posting but in my defense they’ve been marinating in my drafts for honestly a while and i still have loads to write so bare w me! i keep on forgetting to post but @cherryloveshs & sometimes @barcapix has to keep me humble 💔.

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

dating pablo gavi was a constant battle, not because he made things difficult (well, maybe sometimes), but because trying to align your schedules was practically impossible.

you were both professional athletes, both constantly traveling, both juggling training, matches, and media responsibilities. it was hard enough keeping up with your own career, let alone finding time to see each other.

but somehow, against all odds, you’d been making it work since you were fifteen.

‘where are you watching from?’

the text came through as you were tying your shoelaces, preparing for your next match in a wta tournament in madrid. you barely had time to check your phone before your coach called you over, but when you saw gavi’s name, you quickly typed back.

you: i thought you had a game?

gavi: i do. but halftime is soon. i’ll find a way.

you shook your head, smiling. of course he would. gavi had a champions league match tonight, yet here he was, making sure he didn’t miss your game.

true to his word, at halftime, when the rest of the team was getting their tactics from hansi, gavi was on his phone, sitting at the very edge of the bench so no one could block his signal.

‘bro, seriously?’ ferran torres raised a brow, watching as gavi adjusted the brightness.

‘shut up,’ gavi muttered, completely focused.

pedri, sitting beside him, leaned over to glance at the screen. ‘what’s the score?’

‘first set just started.’

pedri smirked. ‘you realize you have a game to play, right?’

‘yeah, yeah,’ gavi waved him off, barely paying attention.

this was normal by now. every chance he got, whether it was in a hotel room after a champions league away match, or during team flights, or, apparently, at halftime, he was watching your matches.

because if he couldn’t be there in person, this was the next best thing.

but when he could be there?

gavi would move mountains to make it happen.

which was exactly how he ended up flying straight from a la liga match in barcelona to paris, just to watch you play in the french open.

he landed at the very last minute, wearing a hoodie pulled low over his face as he slid into the stands, next to pedri, who had made the trip as well.

‘you’re insane,’ pedri muttered, watching as gavi exhaled, still catching his breath from sprinting through the airport.

‘does she know you’re here?’

gavi shook his head. ‘not yet.’

he wanted it to be a surprise. and when you finally looked up after winning a crucial point, your eyes scanning the crowd, the second they landed on him, he knew you’d seen him.

your expression flickered between shock and something softer, something that made the entire exhausting trip worth it.

gavi didn’t care that he was running on barely any sleep. didn’t care that hansi was definitely going to have words with him when he got back.

all that mattered was this.

seeing you. supporting you. the same way you always supported him.

when the match ended, when you won, you barely had time to process it before you were running toward him.

pedri sighed. ‘madre mia, she’s coming.’

‘shut up,’ gavi said, already standing.

and then you were in front of him, sweaty, exhausted, but so fucking happy.

‘what the hell are you doing here?’ you demanded, out of breath.

‘watching you win,’ he grinned, his voice filled with pride.

you shook your head, laughing. ‘you’re crazy.’

‘for you? always.’

and then, despite the cameras, despite the entire stadium watching, you threw your arms around him, hugging him so tight it knocked the breath from his lungs.

but he didn’t mind.

because this, this chaotic, impossible, beautiful life you had together, was worth everything.