Gavi X Argentinian Singer Reader ?

What about the opposite of the short reader Gavi fic and instead one where reader is taller then him? Maybe she's teasing him by not letting him kiss her and then with this prompt "I'm your boyfriend and I demand that you kiss me"? Only if you want to though of course❤️

✮ Mujer Bonita - Pablo Gavi

pablo gavi x taller!fem!reader

sy: what the request says.

a/n: this was so great like as a tall girl myself we need a little more recognition so thank youuuu❣️(sorry if this is a lil short)

warnings: no!

heels or flats. boots or barefoot. did it matter?

one thing you found ridiculously adorable in your relationship with pablo, was the incredulous height difference between you two.

whenever you mention a height difference to your friends, family—anyone for that matter—they’re always quick to assume that he’s the taller one.

it’s a societal standard in any existing community, that a relationship only ‘works’ or ‘lasts’ if the guy has the superior height dominance, but you two had shattered that stereotype.

that’s what made it so special.

but, to your utter dismay, he couldn’t resist using it against you.

“pablo! are you ready yet?” you shout from the top of the stairs, adjusting the strap of your dress.

he mumbled something of a reply, the scuttles of his trainers squeaking against the polished laminate. you didn’t need to see if you could hear.

after thrashing some last minute essentials in your purse, you pursued down the stairs and find gavi infront of the mirror, in your hallway.

smoothing down his hair like usual, the unholy amount of fidgeting with the smallest strands of hair, that were barely visible to the human eye.

“i don’t think the fried baby hairs need styling pabs,” you walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder. “they’re too short to even stand up.”

he mutely mimicked the movement of your lips as you spoke, twisting and turning his head just as you always do.

“fried?” he paused mid motion, before his hazel eyes flickered up to meet your in the reflection. “that’s rich coming from someone who nearly cremated her hair trying to curl it last week.”

your jaw palpably dropped. “that was one time!”

“one too many,” he proudly smirked.

sassy for a man that merely reached 5’8.

“are you gonna continue using that attitude with me?” you playfully threaten him in which he steps back in mock fear, but you saw the mischievous glint in his eyes.

laughing under your breath, you turned toward the front door, but before you could reach it, you felt his hands grip at your waist.

pablo had pulled you back, his chin resting against your shoulder as he huffed dramatically.

“you’re doing it again,” he grumbled, skimming his hands along the matte material of your dress.

you bit back a smile. “doing what?”

“you know what,” his arms tightened around you. “everytime i try to kiss you, you act like i need a damn step stool.”

you chuckled, placing a hand over his. “it’s not my fault you’re short.”

“i’m not short,” he whined, pulling away just to step in front of you. “im actually, nationally, the average height.”

you snorted. “yeah for women.”

his mouth fell open slightly, as if offended, before he squinted at you. “you think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“i know so bebé,” you boasted, and gave him a small tap to his chest. “somebody has to have humour in this relationship.”

pablo narrowed his eyes, straightening his posture and licking his lips. “i’m your boyfriend, and i demand you kiss me.”

you pretended to think about it, biting your lip to suppress another laugh. “demand? where did you learn that word? from pedri?”

gavi huffed, exaggeratedly flinging his arms away from you like he was being physically repelled.

“dios mío,” he grumbled under his breath, tugging on his suit jacket as he was about to walk off. “i hate you.”

“hey,” you giggled, reaching for his wrist to pull him back. “i was just messing with you amor, don’t be so serious.”

the spaniard turned his head, followed by a roll of his eyes. “yeah yeah, i’ve heard that before.”

“ohh well if your going to be so dramatic about it,” you hummed, pulling him close to your body and resting your hands on the front of his shoulders.

but were you going to satisfy him so easily?

just to tease him one last time, you leaned down like you were finally caving in—only to pull away at the last second.

pablo groaned in frustration before finally taking matters into his own hands, gripping your face and pulling you down to meet his lips.

the height difference never mattered after all.

🔖🏷️: @n0vazsq @hearzdiarx @paucubarsisimp @diarieeeelils @joaosnovia @httpsdana @universefcb

are we being deaduzz 🥀 @n0vazsq

NO BUT THAT WAS A LEGIT QUESTION?

what does one do with such brainrot gems..

i just have to get these out, my inbox is drowning

@n0vazsq @joaosnovia

MY SHAYLA 💔🫂

hi baby 😔

❦ - el mar, el sol y mi corazón

summary:: a day at the beach w your man (up to you if you’re married or not) and your little son as he tries to teach him how to use a kite. (i tried to make chat gpt summarise the fic for me but they ended up calling gavi a dilf?? bros 20)

warnings:: none!

writers note:: this is shorter than it should be mainly bc it was supposed to be a joao fic but i have sum else for him. ALSO GUYS GIVE ME REQ MY BRAIN ISNT FUNCTIONING RN.

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

gavi had always loved the beach, the salty breeze, the sound of waves crashing, the warmth of the sun on his skin. but today, it wasn’t just the ocean drawing his attention; it was the sight of your son sprinting across the sand, his tiny feet kicking up clouds of grains as he chased after a colorful kite.

'papá, look!' your son called, holding up the string as the kite wobbled in the sky.

gavi grinned, jogging over to help. 'hold it steady, campeón. like this.' he crouched down, guiding his son’s small hands. together, they managed to get the kite soaring higher, both of them laughing when the wind tugged it wildly.

you watched from a beach towel, sunglasses perched on your nose and a smile tugging at your lips. seeing gavi like this, barefoot in the sand, hair tousled, eyes crinkled with joy, was something you’d never get tired of. he looked up and caught your gaze, flashing you that grin that always made your heart flip.

'hey!' he called. 'you coming or just gonna admire me from there?'

'bit of both,' you shot back with a smirk, standing to shake off the sand before joining them.

after a while, your son abandoned the kite in favor of the ocean. gavi chased after him, scooping him up just before a wave could crash into his legs. 'too fast for me, huh?' he teased, spinning him around as your son squealed with delight.

'papá, again! again!'

'third time’s the charm,' gavi grinned, twirling him once more before gently setting him down. your son ran back toward the water, kicking at the incoming waves, tiny giggles echoing over the beach.

'he’s got your energy,' you commented, slipping an arm around gavi’s waist.

'yeah, but i don’t remember being that fast at his age,' gavi chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

after splashing around until your son’s shorts were soaked and his curls clung to his forehead, you coaxed him back to the sand with the promise of snacks. he plopped down on the towel beside you, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. 'best day ever,' he declared between bites of his sandwich.

gavi ruffled his hair. 'glad you’re having fun, campeón.'

after eating, the three of you set out to build a sandcastle. your son insisted it had to have "four towers and a moat," which turned into an ambitious (and messy) endeavor. gavi got way too competitive, carefully smoothing out the castle walls, tongue poking out in concentration.

'you do know it’s just for fun, right?' you teased.

'hey, if we’re building a castle, we’re making it the best one on this beach,' gavi shot back, flicking a bit of sand at you playfully.

your son cackled. 'get mamá!'

gavi grinned devilishly. 'you heard him.' before you could protest, both of them teamed up, tossing handfuls of sand (mostly missing but making you laugh until your sides hurt).

when everyone was sufficiently sandy and the "biggest castle ever" stood proudly (if a little crooked), you lay back on the towel, sighing contentedly. gavi dropped beside you, pulling your son into the space between you both.

'tired yet?' gavi asked, brushing hair from your son’s forehead.

'nooo,' he mumbled, though his eyes betrayed him, drooping with exhaustion.

'liar,' you chuckled.

as the sun began to sink lower, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, your son fell asleep nestled against gavi’s chest, tiny fingers still clutching a stray seashell. gavi’s hand traced slow circles on his back, eyes soft.

'he’ll sleep all the way home,' you murmured.

'good. means we can blast music without him demanding his cartoons,' gavi joked, but his voice was gentle, gaze fixed on your son’s peaceful face.

you rested your head on gavi’s shoulder, your hand finding his. 'days like this...' you sighed. 'they’re the best.'

'yeah,' gavi agreed, squeezing your hand. 'nothing better.'

as the waves rolled in and the sky deepened into twilight, the three of you stayed there a little longer, sun-kissed, sand-covered, hearts full.

Bro someone needs to study the soccer to F1 girl pipeline. It’s crazy how so many girls (including me) loved soccer as a kid and then transitioned into the car racing space.

STOP BC THIS IS SO TRUE. personally, i was always a football girl growing up but i think what made me more into f1 is that f1 was always in the picture for me growing up! i went to my first grand prix when i was 2 or 3 i don’t remb but it was silverstone and i think that also influenced me 😭. but also since 2016/17, i’ve been atleast attempting to balance both sports but i deffo started liking f1 more than i used to in the last 3 years!

YOU GET IT BRO WTF HAPPENED

ykw i was watching a video of gavi walking and ive realised how fucked his legs are like first of all i’m literally taller than him and second of all he walks like my granddad what has happened to the poor boy 💔.

STOP they are literally like ( ) I THINK ABOUT THIS DAILY. who did this to my sweet boy?? (ifykyk)

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.’

All I wanted | Joao Felix x Reader

pairing . . . joao felix x ex!reader

summary . . . Joao was tired; tired of the memories, tired of the dreams, tired of the flashbacks. Everything led back to you and the moment where he lost you. It drove him insane, but all he could was reminisce the time you had together in solus.

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 758

warnings . . . angst!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . a little short but yeah!! wrote this in school in a little hurry so ignore any typos or mistakes!!

. . . It was after training and Joao had just come home, his bones aching and breath ragged. He shivered slightly, the cold air of the house hitting his skin. The usual warmth was gone, now replaced with a cold, empty presence. No one was there to fill the absence.

He could hear his breathing echo throughout the walls, the quietness of the house louder than he thought, more than he thought it would be. For a second, he waited to hear your voice, stopping whatever you were doing and coming out to hug him.

But it wasn't there. The lack of your presence was obvious; no sounds, no footsteps, and certainly no rush to greet him.

He sighed slowly, taking off his shoes and walking into the kitchen. He subtly noted the mug out of place, which would normally be in the cupboard by now. As he walked to the fridge, he prepared himself to step on one of your hair clips, except they weren't there.

Joao felt like a stranger in his own home, as if he was intruding. Something was missing.

You were missing.

The living room felt too dark, too cold without you, and as he sat on the couch, he groaned at the uncomfort he felt. What once felt like a cozy, safe haven was now a lumpy, stuffy thing under him.

He hesitated, debating whether he should actually sit down or if he should sit on the chair to his right, as if he’s unsure whether it's still his space.

As he sank into the couch, he felt a weight he didn't expect, like it’s not quite the same anymore. It smelled faintly like you, the scent throwing him into a haze of memories and flashbacks

Ache filled his chest, heart longing for you. But you weren't there anymore, and it was all his fault.

Memories of you two flashed through his mind; laughing till you couldn't breath, laying down under the stars, holding each other to sleep, the simple comfort of just being around you.

Every single thing around him reminded him of you, even things he didn't realise were yours. Once, he felt warm and lovable, but now? Now he felt like a cold, empty void filled his heart. Everything seemed different, even the air.

Everything led back to you.

It was him who pushed you away, who told you he needed space, when all he needed was you. He regretted everything he said that night, so much. He knew he was hurting, and took it on you. The only person who actually understood him.

And just like, you were gone out of his life. He remembers the door banging shut as you left, his voice hoarse from shouting and arguing with you, a crumpled tissue in his hand, full of the tears you wiped away from your eyes and threw at him.

He didn't know why he did it, why he ended things. But he knew he wanted you back, so badly. And now, he's left wondering if you two could've fixed it, or if it was already too late by the time he finally realized.

He felt his heart tighten, the longing pain taking a hold of him. Everything seemed to suffocate him, as if a snake was being around his body, its hold tight and choking. His surroundings felt empty. Dark. Overwhelming.

The silence was deafening. Joao couldn't take it anymore.

The remote was laying beside him, and he grabbed it, switching on the large TV screen in front of him. The light shining at his face was too bright, and the show that was on was your favourite.

He'd do anything to get you to come home to him. To kiss him. To hug him. To love him.

Joao regretted his actions, he knew he messed up. He should've gathered his thoughts and followed you out as you shut the door. He should've went to your apartment and begged you for forgiveness. If he had done that, maybe he wouldn't be thinking about it now.

The idea haunts him, that everything between you could've been fixed with a few words, a little patience. He could be with you now, but no, he was and idiot and he lost you because of it.

The reality hits: it’s over. He knows you can’t go back to what you were. He tries to distract himself with everything around him, but it feels pointless. Everything felt pointless.

For now, all he could do was spend his days in a haze, reminiscing you

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaaa ,, @notm4d1 ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @bernalswifeyy ,, @nngkay ,, @justaf1girl (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

kali uchis’ “your teeth in my neck” is my new obsession. the song isn’t lyrically phenomenal but the way she can make a song about wealth inequality so sultry is amazing 😭 her voice is so smooth and raspy and the way she pronounces her vowels is so satisfying 😻

i am screaming crying throwing up to the point words can’t describe my emotions in english bro. oh dios mío, esto me ha hecho querer sollozar porque necesito un hombre así, en realidad has elevado mis estándare 🤯 i’ve never seen a fic this good im flabbergasted you’ve made my day.

joao fic with he stays sober at a forge in italian club in milan, so reader can get drunk and he’s trying to take her home because she can’t walk straight but he’s struggling because he knows no italian at all (i also know your italian so thought this would be a good idea)😛

Milano & L'amore - João Felix

joao felix x fem!reader

sy: milan comes with its fun, but also its less appealing moments. tonight’s an example.

a/n: although i hate the abbreviation of the ‘mafia’ and even mentioning it i couldn’t think of anything else as a placeholder so💔 plus this is not proofread idk im tired so sozsoz for any mistakes ..

warnings: portuguese and italian and the use of alcohol

the bartender slides you another shot of tequila across the marble countertop, and you catch it surprisingly easy.

the club is a kaleidoscope of green and pink, the flashing lights sending you into a drunken void.

“another one?” your boyfriend, joão, comes up from behind. his aftershave is overwhelmingly strong, which makes you even more nauseous.

“yes, another one,” you mock, taking a swig.

the liquid burns down your throat, the addictive wave of alcohol scorching into your head. your slumped over the bar, barely sitting upright and the stool is nothing but a flimsy cushion underneath you.

“y/n, i think you’ve had enough for tonight,” joão tries to snatch the drink, but you slide it away.

“i decide when i have enough,” you counter, almost falling backwards but joão’s swift enough to catch you on time.

“really?” he scoffs. “your gonna play this game with me? you know this isn’t healthy.”

with a second gulp of your drink, you slam the glass down onto the table to look up at your sober boyfriend who looks merely amused.

“your always acting like this,” you lazily mumble. “always lecturing me at… parties.”

you mimic him whilst swaying your hands in the air. “no y/n you can’t drink this, don’t do that. come over here, don’t go there.”

joão looks at you with an jovial expression—in the way your still able to form a sentence despite the amount of churning alcohol pitting in your stomach.

“now,” you fist the glass up to his face. “stop being so boring and have some!”

his grin falters, now unimpressed. “i’ll pass.”

“we’re in milan joão!” you lazily squeak, pulling him down by his half unbuttoned shirt, faces now inches apart. “you need to have some fun.”

he pinches his nose. “yeah and you need gum.”

your smile is carefree, joyful. you sling your arms around the nape of his neck, littering sloppy kisses over his tanned skin.

“awh aren’t you the sweetest?” you mistake his comment for a compliment. “i’m so lucky to have you bebê waby.”

joão purses his lips, rolling up his sleeves. “c’mon, enough. we’re going home right now.”

as he tries to lift you up, you vividly protest.

“ey antonio,” you call to the bartender, using the first name that comes to mind. “don’t make him take me away! we’re friends, right?”

the bartender solely spares you a glance, continuing to pour drinks like he’s heard this exact situation play out a hundred times before.

before you can resist further, you’re suddenly lifted off the ground, swung over joão’s shoulder like a misbehaving child.

“joão! put me down this instant, traidor,” you yell, kicking your legs.

joão, clearly, has more strength than you will ever possess, when he doesn’t even phase at the wriggling your doing to try and escape.

“joão! estou faland—serious,” you babble. “this.. não é justo.”

any words that spring to mind, you voice, even if it was a mix of both english and portuguese. you still somewhat have a smidge of conscious left, and you use it to snatch a fresh glass of vodka from a passing waiters tray.

joão catches on, glancing up at you. “y/n, where did you get that from—no!”

your mid-sip, when he forcefully slides it from your grasp and tosses it into a nearby waste bin.

“what’s wine ever done to you?” you slur, poking him in the chest as he finally sets you back down outside the club.

“for starters, that wasn’t wine,” he corrects. “and second of all, it stole my girlfriend from me.”

your eyes widen dramatically. “you have a… girlfriend? oh, so when did you meet her, huh?” you gasp. “you’re using me.”

joão runs a hand down his face. “no, amor, i don’t have another girlfriend.”

there was in fact, no other girl, but obviously you had way too many to drink than he anticipated.

“hmm,” you squint at him like you’re trying to read his mind.

visibly stressed, he runs his fingers through his hair as he pulls out his phone for a taxi. whereas, your too busy playing with the buttons on his shirt to notice.

“joão,” you spout, reaching up to squish his face between your hands. “you’re so… handsome.”

he sighs deeply, gently prying your hands off. “obrigado, amor. now let me find us a taxi, okay?”

but before he can even look up from his phone, you gasp dramatically. “wait. wait. where’s my bag?”

joão’s heart nearly stops. “what?”

you twirl around in circles, patting your sides. “i had a bag. where’s my bag? joão, my bag—”

“anjo, hey look at me,” he says, firmly locking your shoulders down. “you didn’t bring a bag.”

“oh.” you pause. “are you sure?”

“yes, i’m sure,” he groans, raking a hand down his face, almost on the brink of having heart palpitation. “we have more important things to worry about. like getting you home.”

as if the universe is mocking him, not a single car is in sight. the street is presumably quiet, as it is almost 3am and most people are already inside the club or stumbling off in different directions.

the portuguese looks around desperately, until spotting a driver leaning against the streetlamp.

“come on,” he tugs on your hand. “let’s see if he’s free.”

but you, in your drunken wisdom, come to a halt and dig your heels into the ground. “wait.”

joão groans. again. “wait for what y/n?”

you nervously grab onto his wrist with your spare hand, and whisper (noisily). “what if he’s part of the mafia?”

he stares at you, blinking so fast that he hopes you’d snap back into reality. the mafia?

your confident in your conspiracy, staring back with all of the faint seriousness you had left. not that you had much tonight, though.

“y/n,” he erupts flatly. “he’s a taxi driver.”

you hiss. “that’s what they want you to think.”

joão closes his eyes for a long moment, breathing in so deeply like he’s summoning for any patience that god can offer him. then, his nostrils flare determinedly, and without another word, he drags you along.

the driver looks up as you approach “sì?”

“uh.. possiamo eh,” he gestures vaguely. “possiamo.. prendere un taxi?” (can.. we get a taxi?)

“dove vuoi andare?” the driver now turns to face you fully. (where do you want to go?)

joão blanks. well shit. did he really expect a local in milan to be fluent in english? luckily, he briefly understood what he’d said but knowing how to form a response was a new challenge.

“uh.. to our hotel?”

“quale hotel?” the driver gives him a pointed look. (which hotel?)

joão’s mouth opens and closes. of course he knows the name of the hotel. but right now? right now, when you were clinging to his arm and sputtering some nonsense about ‘dangerous italian gangsters’(?). his brain was fried.

for you, this is nothing short of in awe. “awh baby you sound so smart right now.”

“y/n, please.” he feigns.

the driver sighs, patience thinning. “l'indirizzo?”(the address?)

he quickly fumbles for his phone, trying to pull up the hotels location. his hands are full because of your constant swaying against him, always looking to grab his attention.

“joãoo,” you pout, pressing your cheek against his chest. “why is your heartbeat so fast? is it normally this fast?”

“um, no,” he presses his lips into a thin line, still struggling to get the location. you continue to ramble about something else, but ignores you.

after a painful few seconds, he finally grabs the address, showing it to the driver.

the man squints at the screen, then exhales heavily, like he’s deeply regretting taking this job tonight. but he nods. “va bene. venite.” (okay. come)

you snort. “look at you, my multilingual king.”

he helps you into the backseat, making sure you don’t hit your head in the process, before sliding in next to you.

when the engine starts, your head hits his shoulder, he cuddles you closer, his arm around your waist like a crafted seatbelt.

after a few beats of silence, you grumble. “you still love me after all this right?”

joão ushers a breathy laugh, resting his chin atop your head. “more than anything mi vida.”

🔖🏷️: @n0vazsq @hearzdiarx @paucubarsisimp @diarieeeelils @joaosnovia @httpsdana @universefcb