#pablo gavi x oc

[lunaandco]

i know who you pretend i am; part one

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: catalan author aroa ferrer is about to be translated into spanish. to promote her book, her publisher has the worst idea possible: a pr relationship with a heartthrob footballer.

masterlist // series masterlist // i do not take requests

"Uhm, where is the bathroom?" Asked Gavi. His hands were sweating and he wanted to fix his hair before the meeting. He was nervous, more than he was when he had play in front of millions of people.

This was different. This made him vulnerable.

"That corridor to the left has the gender neutral bathrooms," explained the woman at the reception counter. Gavi thanked her quietly and walked toward the corridor she had pointed to.

The bathroom was empty, except for a girl in the farthest sink away, who was covering her face with her hands and quietly sniffling.

"I'm sorry," he stumbled, taking a step back. Maybe he could come back later.

"No, it's okay." The girl didn't look at him, scurrying pass him, almost running away from the place. It left Gavi with a bitter taste in his mouth. What had that girl so upset?

He didn't think too much about it, though. He had his own things to worry about.

💙❤️

Iván put a hand on his shoulder when they were finally called up.

The offer had reached Gavi as a passing comment. Iván had heard that Roses Editorial was searching for a guy to be in a PR relationship with one of their more successful writers. The agent was offering the opportunity to his other clients, who were footballers of a smaller caliber than Gavi, when media attention was concerned.

Gavi would have usually not even considered an arrangement like that. His dating life was his business and his business only, but after a rough break up he needed to do something drastic.

"Hombre, I didn't think you'd be interested," admitted Iván. "You never want to do stuff like this..."

Gavi had shrugged.

"Just let me look a bit into this before I fully accept," asked Gavi. "Do you have the girl's name?"

"Aroa Ferrer," said Iván. "There are no pictures of her on the Internet, but you can check her book if you want."

Gavi frowned. He wondered if Iván noticed it was a bit strange that agirl with no public photos on the Internet was ready to go on a PR stunt like this, but he said nothing.

Gavi had bought the book, which was in Catalan, and actually read it. Going though the pages was quite different than completing his high school assignments. In school, he had loathed the language. Teachers were strict, the grammatical and orthographic rules made no sense, and he was in a clear disadvantage against his native speaking classmates. But Aroa's book was entertaining, the plot, the characters. It made him forget he was actually reading in a second language.

Aroa's second book was in Spanish. It had been published a few days earlier and was flying off the shelves in all the bookstores of the country. The publishing house wanted to take advantage of the rush, and use the publicity of a PR stunt to drive people's eyes towards the first book's Spanish translation.

Gavi walked to the office awkwardly. By the desk, Ferrer's agent and Roses' marketing manager were waiting for them. On the other side of the room, by the corner, arms crossed and jaw set, was the girl from the bathroom.

It took Gavi less than a second to figure out he had walked into a war zone, and that the room was divided. Iván, who either didn't notice, or ignored it, walked to the men in suits by the desk.

The men seemed to be delighted to see him. Gavi was sure that when they started asking around for an interested party, they never thought they could bag someone of Gavi's prophile. He could see the Euro signs in their eyes.

Gavi looked back at Aroa. Her jaw was set and he gaze was averted. Having the freedom to map out her face, Gavi was stunned with how pretty she was. Short brown hair curled to down to her chin, pink lips, curled in a pissed off expression, green eyes guarded and harsh.

She looked like she wanted to kill everyone in the room.

"Hi," he greeted shyly, when he caught her gaze. She replied with a short head gesture.

"C'mon, c'mon, sit, sit, Gavi." The men there were adamant in having him be as comfortable as possible. They really wanted to sway his will towards whatever they wanted to do. "Meet Aroa, she will be your partner in this operation. Excuse her behavior, she's not done throwing her tantrum yet."

Aroa clenched her jaw.

She definitely looked too pissed off for it be "just a tantrum". Suddenly, Gavi didn't think this was the best idea. Something about the men and the way they talked about their author, the fact that she was clearly distressed and nobady seemed to care.

"Aroa, sit next to him, I want to see you two together," demanded the agent. She obeyed, walking briskly and dropping next to him on the couch. Gavi could feel the tension in her muscles.

"Are you okay?" He asked, worriedly. It took Aroa a few seconds to figure out he was talking to her.

"Could be worse," she said, her face softening a little. Her eyes were prettier up close, he noticed.

"Alright, so, the idea is to have you two appear to be a couple in public, so that Aroa's book sells in the rest of Spain," said the agent.

"We also wanted something from this relationship," announced Iván.

"Of course." Both men seemed to find that completely reasonable. "What do you need?"

"Gavi broke up with his girlfriend a month ago. She's still posting indirect statements that reflect badly on him. Once the break up is announced, we would benefit of Aroa speaking kindly of him, at least a couple of times," explained Iván. Gavi flinched. The issues with Alicia had been many, specially after the break up. When she started posting, he and Iván had agreed to ignore the situation completely, but now that Gavi had been open to this scheme, it was logical that his agent wanted to take advantage of it.

Aroa rised her eyebrow, tension returning to her body.

"You're not like, abusive, right?" She asked bluntly. "I won't go against a victim just to clean you image.”

"I can promise you it's nothing like that," reassured Iván. "Alicia is just a little bit immature."

Gavi shook his head. That argument was doing nothing to quench Aroa's doubts.

"We fought during the break up," he explained. "Alicia wanted us to spend more time together, but I ignored her, sometimes even on purpose, to focus on football. If anything, all her complaints about me are about how I'm too immature and childish for a woman like her. That sort of thing."

Aroa seemed to find his explanation more plausible.

"If I learn that you did something bad to her..."

"I promise you I didn't," insisted Gavi. She finally nodded.

"Well, the relationship should be announced slowly, we don't want to overwhelm the public," continued the manager. Gavi had not caught his name, and he realised he did not want to.

"Yes, maybe Aroa should go to a couple of games, and you should be seen with the book somewhere..." agreed the agent, looking at Gavi.

"But how are we going to tie her face to her name? There are no pictures of you available on the Internet," interrupted Gavi.

"That's because my face should not be necessary to sell a fucking book," replied Aroa. Gavi tensed. During the whole time, Aroa had seemed tense, pissed off. But he now was starting so see the reason.

"Well, you refused to do tik toks, so this is your next option, young lady," reminded her the manager. Something churned on Gavi's stomach.

"My target audience is not on booktok," she complained.

"It will be if we say so," insisted the manager. "You wrote a roamce book, you can't be picky about your public."

"Wait, you don't want to be doing this?" Asked Gavi, fully tuning his body to watch her. By the corner of the eye, he saw Iván's expression souring.

"No. Not really. I want my books to sell because they are good, not because I'm some dude's girlfriend." Aroa explained. Gavi recognised the glint of ambition and pride on her eyes. He had the same feeling surrounding his career. He was liked and valued because he was a good footballer, not because he was pretty.

"Then why are you here?" Asked Iván, concerned.

"I don't have a choice."

"Her contact stipulates that marketing decisions lay on the Editoral. We were already kind enough to listen to her when she rejected booktok, we won't do that again," explained the manager. Gavi felt like throttling him.

"Well, Gavi and I need to reconsider the offer..." Iván stood up, and gestured Gavi to do the same. "This information changes a lot of things for us..."

Gavi spared one last worried glance to Aroa before slipping out of the room, following Iván.

"That was..."

"Defiently unethical," finished Iván. "I can't believe they think they have the right..."

Aroa rushed through the corridors catching them before they reached the elevators. She grabbed Gavi by the arm, desperation obvious on her eyes.

"Wait, please." There were tears streaming down her pink cheeks. "I... please. Stay. They will carry on with this plan with or without you, and I... I would rather have to do it with you, knowing that you care, and are kind, that to do it with whoever new they find, someone that agrees with their thinking." She explained.

Gavi did not doubt on wrapping jus arms around her, pressing her to his chest. Aroa buried her face on his shoulder, her tears wetting the fabric of his shirt.

"Alright," Gavi looked at Iván over her shoulder. His face was troubled, but Gavi could see that he agreed with him. They would take the offer, even if it was just to protect Aroa Ferrer.

💙❤️

"I'm so sorry for getting you into this mess," said Aroa when she let Gavi in on her apartment. She had kicked out Inés, her best friend, so they could talk peacefully.

"It's okay, though. I kind of want to do it, you know?" Gavi put his hands on his pockets. Now that she's allowing herself to look at him, Aroa could admit that he was pretty handsome. "I'd rather help you, that see you in a fake relationship with some scumbag in a few months and wonder if you're okay every day."

"Still. You shouldn't be worrying about it."

Gavi shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. Aroa couldn't fathom how he found the whole ordeal so... irrelevant, to the course of his life, but he was not putting his ambition at risk so that was that.

She led him to her kitchen, were she had prepared two bowls of simple tomato pasta.

"I wasn't sure what you could or could not eat..." she explained. "So I played it safe."

"Smells so good," he complimented. "I love pasta, specially before a match."

Aroa smiled, pleased.

💙❤️

"So this thing... we can have it be quiet, right?" Asked Gavi, helping Aroa do the dishes.

"I'm not sure they want it to be quiet..." she told him. Edgar and Toni were like dogs with a bone, and Gavi was a very succulent bone.

"But I can demand that it is." He replied, confidently. "They need it to be me, no one is going to give them any more clout than I do," Aroa flinched. "I have power here."

"Alright," she said. "What do you have in mind?"

"Like Iván said, you come to a few of my matches, we get someone to spot you. I carry your books around a couple of times. Then we get caught kissing somewhere, maybe a restaurant or a park, something romantic. A couple of insta stories on the same place at the same time and done. We stop following each other on social media, don't interact in public and everyone will figure out we've broken up. Easy."

"Easy." Aroa repeated, finishing drying a dish.

"Yeah, easy." Gavi seemed proud of his plan."

"There is only one problem," she said. "I've never kissed anyone."

"Oh."

It was obvious Gavi did not expect that.

"Never?" He croaked. Aroa shook her head, a little bit embarrassed. She was about to turn twenty one, and no one had ever deemed her pretty enough for a kiss. "You didn't want to or..."

It was cute that Gavi thought she had chosen that. Aroa shrugged.

"Just never happened for me."

There was a heavy silence, in which Aroa avoided eye contact, turning her face away from Gavi, until she felt his hands gently cupping her cheeks.

"I could... we could kiss now," he offered. "So your first kiss isn't everywhere on the Internet. And so we know what to do when the moment comes or in an emergency."

Aroa took a shaky breath, lifting her gaze to look at him. Gavi's big eyes were dark, his lips parted as he studied her face. He wanted to do it, she realised, startled. Whether it was a stupid bout of desire or wanting to be kind she was not sure.

But she nodded, accepting the offer.

His lips met hers softly at first. Small kisses to help her figure out what was going on. But as Aroa grew in confidence, her arms lifting to grip his shoulders, her lips moving against his, the kiss deepened. Gavi gripped her waist, their hips colliding as he squished her against the sink. Aroa rised a hand to the back of his head as his tongue went inside her mouth.

"I thought it was supposed to be fake?" Inés' voice startled them into separating.

"We're just rehearsing," came out of Aroa's mouth, as she touched her tingling lips with the tip of her fingers. Kissing was nice, she decided.

Inés snorted leaving her purse by the couch.

"Sure, at least he's the hot one," she commented, before disappearing into her room. Gavi blushed, to Aroa's delight.

💙❤️

Gavi went back home excitedly. His lips were still tingling from the kiss, his heart still beating hard from all the adrenaline. They were doing this. They were so fucking doing this.

But there was one thing he needed to do first. He found his family gathered in the living room, but they tackled the issue before he could open his mouth.

"Since when do you read?" Asked Aurora. She was holding Aroa's book. "And since when do you speak Catalan?"

"I wouldn't have a high school diploma if I didn't speak Catalan," he replied taking his coat off. His cheeks are already pink. "I've lived here for almost a decade, I'm not that stupid."

"But reading a romance book?" Insisted Aurora.

"Stop annoying your brother," reprimanded their mother. "God knows I've tried to get him to read for years..."

His dad, though, had a knowing smile on his face.

"Where were you, boy?"

"I, eh... that is what u wanted to talk about with all of you. I was... eh, I was on a date." He blurted.

Aurora's mouth dropped.

"So soon after Alicia?"

"Yeah. I know it seems precipitated, but I have a great feeling about this..."

"Gavi, dear, it's better if you wait a little. At least as a curtesy. Alicia deserves better..."

"Well, for as long as Alicia doesn't hear..." decided Aurora. "We can pretend like they started dating six months after the break up or something..."

"She's coming to my game next week." Said Gavi, squashing their planning. "And I asked her to wear my jersey." He had not actually, but he was sure it would be the easiest way to link her to him, if she was spotted alone in the stands with the rest of the families.

"That's a bit soon. It took you quite a while to go public with Alicia..."

"I'm sure of what I'm doing," replied Gavi, squaring his shoulders. "I like Aroa a lot. I want her—"

"We don't even know this girl," protested his mother. "How do you know that she isn't after your fame?"

'Because I caught her having a panic attack at the thought of using me for my fame,' he thought, but said nothing.

"Why is it so hard to trust my judgement?" He asked. He felt like he was setting Aroa up to be hated by his family, once they broke of the arrangement.

"If you feel lonely, I'm sure Alicia..."

"I don't want Alicia, Aurora," he snapped. "I want Aroa." As he spoke, Gavi realised he was saying the truth. "I really want to try this with her. She's sweet and smart and accomplished. She wrote that fucking book!" He pointed at the book that was still in Aurora's hands. "And I liked it! And I hate reading, and I struggle with Catalan! That is how good she is."

"We're gonna have to meet this girl," spoke his father then. "Before the match. Ask her when she can come for dinner."

Shit.

💙❤️

"You didn't tell your parents it was a PR deal?" Said Aroa and Iván almost at the same time.

Gavi covered his face with his hands.

"They've been worried about the break up with Alicia. They liked her a lot, always asked if we are going to get back together. Aurora actually still meets with her, I'm sure." He explained. "I thought that maybe... I could use this to make them forget about my thing with Alicia, I don't know."

Iván sighed. He was used to Gavi's impulsive decision making, but Aroa was looking at him totally puzzled.

"Alright," she said. "I'm free every night next week."

"You're actually accepting?"

"You're making me a huge favour, not letting me do this with some random reggetón singer. How bad can a family dinner be?"

"If my sister suspects you're after my money, it can be quite awful," he warned.

"Then let's think of it as warm up, for when this thing hits the news."

At that moment, Gavi could have kissed her.

"Okay, you two need to fix that stuff alone," decided Iván standing up from the kitchen table of Aroa's apartment, taking the folder with him. After a second meeting with her publishers, the three of them had gone to her house to discuss the details form their more ethical point of view. "I'll give this to my friends. They will call you by the end of the week," he told Aroa.

Iván had offered to send the manuscript of her third book to some agents he knew, who specialised on publishing. They also had good ties with foreign publishing houses, and could get her translated to other languages apart from Spanish or Catalan, like English, French or German.

💙❤️

"Do they really hate me?" Asked Aroa once they reached his home. She was squeezing a box of homemade cookies against her chest, nerves finally kicking in.

"They... liked Alicia a lot. And they distrust any girl that attempts anything with me. So this is more like an exam..."

"Great." Gavi almost snorted at her ironic remark. She had come out of her shell slowly, but it was fun to banter with her now.

Inside, they were greeted by his father first. He looked soft, like a teddy bear. He took the cookies from Aroa with a smile on his face, as he led them to the kitchen, as if this wasn't Gavi's house too.

There, they found his mother, who was a little bit more cautious around Aroa. She still smiled and was very polite, but Aroa could tell she was being watched.

Aurora would clearly he the hardest one to win over. She smiled curtly, but kept the interactions at the minimum. Aroa took a step closer to Gavi instinctively. He put his hand on her hip as he talked to his dad, something about the cookies being 100% acceptable by Barça's nutritionist standards.

"You made them?"

"Yeah!" His mother nodded appreciatively. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard.

💙❤️

"They definitively hate me," whispered Aroa once they were alone in his room. She picked her pyjamas from the bag she had prepared to spend the night.

"Okay, it could have gone better," admitted Gavi, sitting in bed.

Even if his father seemed to welcome her, his mother and Aurora were not as inclined. They were still untrusting, and Aroa had spent enough time studying human behaviour to know they were comparing her to Alicia the whole time.

"I don't think it's worth it to try to make them like me," she told him. "I'll be gone in a month an a half anyway." Aroa went to the bathroom to change her white stamped t-shirt and blue jeans—that Gavi had helped her pick, for the pyjamas shirt and shorts. "You could tell them they were right about me and call it day," she offered when she exited.

"I don't like that, though," he shook his head. "I don't want them to think badly of you. You're wonderful, I wish they could see it. And what do you mean you will be gone, we can still be friends, no?"

"I thought you would want me gone," she admitted, sitting in bed next to him. Gavi shook his head. "Not at all. I want to be friends with you, I want to able to laugh about it in a few years."

Aroa rested her head on his shoulder, in silence. Gavi had to keep himself from dragging her to his lap and crushing her in a hug.

💙❤️

Aroa watched herself in the mirror. The show started today. She would go to the match, wearing the black jersey with Gavi's name on her back, and do the part.

"You'll slay this, I promise," encouraged Inés with a tight hug before she left.

At the stadium, Iván greeted her and sat with her to watch the match. She was grateful for his presence, it was a friendly face in the sea of unknown people.

"I presume the dinner with his family did not go well," muttered Iván.

"No," admitted Aroa. "Did he tell you?"

Iván shook his head and pointed to a few rows in front of them. Gavi's sister had arrived, and with her a pretty girl with beautiful clothes and beautiful hair.

"Why would Aurora bring Alicia if she approves of you?"

"Shit."

"Shit indeed. I told that boy he should have told his family the truth."

💙❤️

Gavi noticed immediately, and cursed under his breath. Shit was going to hit the fan faster than he thought. As they warmed up, he searched for a reason to rush to the stands.

"I need to talk to Iván for a sec," he told his teammates, who looked at him puzzled. Gavi rushed up the stairs, ignoring his sister trying to get his attention, and making it to Iván and Aroa in record time.

"We have some drama here," warned him Iván. Gavi ignored him too.

"How are you doing?" He asked Aroa, who shrugged a little bit. She looked terrified. "I'm going to go off script right now," he warned. lifting his hands to cup her cheeks. He felt them heat under his fingers, as Aroa realised what he was planning.

The kiss was longer than it should have been. Gavi wanted to make sure one of those fans who recorded everything got the clip, wanted everyone to see.

Gavi wanted everyone to know he was Aroa's so badly, he forgot he actually wasn't.

💙❤️

"Anything you want to say about this?"

Of course his teammates would get a hold of the video sooner than the day was over. Gavi was changing into his jeans when Lamine slid on the bench next to him, holding his phone with the viral tik tok.

"That's my girlfriend," he said. "Her name is Aroa Ferrer, she's a—"

"The writer?" interrupted Cubarsí. "No way you're dating her, hermano. She's too cool for you, way out of your league."

"Oh, yeah?" Snarked Gavi, watching how Cuba asked Lamine to show him the video again.

"I only saw her face for the first time last week, when the new book dropped and she included an author photo. Finally!"

Cuba being an Aroa fan boy wasn't on Gavi's plan, but it made him proud.

"But is she hot?" Asked someone else, trying to see the video too. Gavi put on his shirt, amidst patting on his shoulders, hair ruffles and congratulatory comments.

The smile on his face was genuine.

💙❤️

"I'm sorry about what my sister did."

Gavi held her hand. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pouted. He truly cared about her well-being. Aroa smiled.

"It's okay. At least my publishers are loving the drama," he snorted, but she could tell he noticed the saddened tone on her voice. "I'm sorry I'm making things hard with your family..."

"No you're not. Alicia is, trying to get us to get back together." Gavi stopped in front of his car. "You might have helped me cut this once and for all."

Aroa squeezed his hand, and he lifted hers to his lips, kissing it gently.

"Also, my teammates want to meet you too."

Aroa rolled her eyes.

"You didn't tell them this was fake either?"

"Pau is your fan boy. I would look like a loser if I hadn't actually seduced you!"

Aroa snorted, and suddenly they were laughing loudly, putting their weight on each other, until some other families started to trickle by and look at them funny.

💙❤️

It was quiet at home. Gavi was dozzing off with his head on Aroa's shoulder as she typed her soul away. Her fourth book was halfway done, this time in Catalan. At the other side of the couch, his mother was reading a magazine, and his father was doing a puzzle in the coffee table.

Aurora made it home then. She left her keys and took her coat in silence, watching the new couple warily.

"You didn't need to do that," she told her brother. Gavi woke up fully.

"Actually, I did. You didn't need to do that."

"Alicia's feelings are hurt."

"She hurt them herself," he stated, curling further onto Aroa's shoulder, who had not noticed Aurora's presence due to her headphones.

"You're hell bent on her, huh?"

"Yes, actually."

Aurora rolled her eyes and went to her room.

💙❤️

"Are you sure you do not want to come?" Gavia sked again. He did not expect Aroa to say yes, she was admant to keep their public interactions to a minimum.

"No, have fun," she smiled softly, looking up from her laptop. That book was writing itself fast.

Gavi had a boy's night out, and even if some of the guys brought their girlfriends, Aroa had argued that she would be a girlfriend for too little to actually go there. He has wanted to argue, but there was no point.

Gavi bent to drop a short peck on her lips, before leaving, whistling some old fashioned song.

"You're not... going to ask him to text you every twenty minutes?" Asled Aurora, from her side of the couch. Even if the relationship was tense, Gavi insisted they should act like nothing happened.

"Why would I do that?" frowned Aroa.

"To make sure he doesn't cheat?"

"If I have to put that much effort to make sure he doesn't cheat, why would a I date him?" Questioned Aroa. "Seems stupid."

His father snorted.

"She's got a point," he said, smiling. He was the one that seemed to accept Aroa the fastest.

Aurora shrugged.

"Alicia did not like it when he went out without her."

"And they broke up," reminded her Aroa. "So it was useless in the end, all that work."

Aroa wasn't sure why she was pushing so hard. Her idea was to be as quiet as possible, bother the family as little as she could. But she also wanted to defend herself a little. Aurora nodded.

"I guess you've got a point, nena," she said.

💙❤️

An hour and a half later, Gavi came back with some sweets he had picked at the 24h bakery, just to find his sister and his fake girlfriend cuddling and laughing over the stupid movie on the TV.

His chest fluttered.

💙❤️

"Iván's friends picked up my book. They will publish me without stupid marketing deals," she announced one day Gavi went to her apartment straight from training.

"That's great!" Gavi picked Aroa up and spun her around.

"And they told me they didn't mind that I wanted to use a pseudonym, so no one would link my new books to you and this PR deal," she finished once her feet touched the ground.

Gavi knew what that meant for her.

"So whats left with your old publisher?" He asked.

"Once we break up, we're done." She said. "They just need to forward the royalties from the sales and that's it."

Gavi nodded quietly, catching his lower lip between his teeth.

"There is something I wanted to ask," he said then, changing his weight from one foot to the other. "What would happen if we never broke up?"

"Huh?"

"If instead of breaking up, we kept dating. Could your publishers say anything?"

"I don't think so, we never stipulated in paper..."

"Then let's stay dating." He blurted.

"What?"

"Be my girlfriend. My real girlfriend. Please." Gavi's hands cupped her neck. "I've thought about this too often since this started. Please—"

Aroa rised to her tip toes, and shut him up with a kiss. The first kiss that had nothing to do with the arrangement, and everything to do with them. The first of many.

[thatsdemko]

the culer- j.bellingham

masterlist | pairing: Jude Bellingham x gavi!fem!reader. summary: with the pressure of the match at hand, Jude makes an error that’ll cost him. warnings: fluff + angst + the following events in this fic are completely fictional and are not based on real life events. a/n: I dislike Real Madrid but I love Jude because he played for Borussia Dortmund.. he’ll always have a place in my heart I fear

It’s not like the words “Pablo gavis sister” were plastered against your forehead, so how was he supposed to know? it wasn’t the worst thing to happen to him, but it certainly wasn’t best when he rounded the corner and hear your soft laugh ring his ears. it was even ten times worse when his breakfast threatened to come up seeing your brothers arm around your shoulders.

you’re squished in between culers, your brothers jersey clung tight against your chest that serves as a major distraction to him. yet, he can’t actually see you. glimpses of you from the tunnel replay in his mind, the ball against his feet should be in the back of the net right now, but he’s stalling.

if he scores, your brother and his team lose. why does it matter to him anyway? this should be an exciting moment here in Barcelona with the crowd booing his name and boosting his adrenaline, so why does he care so much about you?

you’d never had more than just sex. an occasional cuddle and maybe a late night movie cozied up in his bed, but that was it. so you’re unsure why he’s playing with the ball when he’s got a 90% chance of scoring.

“just shoot the damn ball, Jude.” you mutter to yourself. the quicker he gets this over, the sooner the dread and anxiety bubbling in your stomach will fizzle out, and the sooner this is over the better chances your brother or his teammate have in evening the score.

yet there he still stands, unable to decide to shoot or to pass and the crowd wasn’t having it. Jude was usually so quick with his mind, football came easy yet this shot was the hardest one. he knows if he shoots this into the back of the net all chances with you end tonight on this pitch. he knows if he passes, all chances of his team advancing into the next round, end here.

why did it have to be him to decide the fate?

as if on cue, pablo takes the stab. he pulls Jude from his mind games, and decides to end the misery for himself and the crowd. Jude didn’t have much of a reaction time, in fact, he didn’t even put up a fight as the ball was swept from his feet.

“what the fuck man?!” his teammates shout frustrated in his inability to play the damn game.

your nails dig into your palms, watching your brother and his teammate play keep away from the Real Madrid defenders before taking the shot on net and ending the tie once in for all.

Real Madrid lost and wouldn’t advance to the next round.

a smile couldn’t form to your lips. watching Jude’s head hang low, you feel guilty. knowing he’d been riding the highs of the past couple of wins, he should be proud of the fight the team put up today. but those three minutes of torture would haunt him for the rest of his career for every time he saw you.

you.

his head picks up, eyes scanning the mass of fans the sea of red and blue all mesh together. faces booing and others cheering become a blur, but he’s sure you’re out there celebrating. you always expressed how important family was to you, and he was sure your family couldn’t of been happier.

—

you shouldn’t be here. not this late. the match ended hours ago and Jude most likely wasn’t even home yet, but it didn’t stop you from pounding your knuckles against the wood door in hopes he was there. you’re the last person he probably ever wants to chat with, but you needed to check on him. you needed to make sure he wasn’t beating himself up.

you hear the lock click, the door slowly creeps open revealing his dark brown eyes scanning your body. you’d changed into sweatpants in a sweatshirt, a more casual fit than what you were used to wearing to see Jude.

“what are you doing here this late?” his posh accent floods your eardrums, your heart can’t help but thump faster as you move closer to the small crack of the door to find any signs of concern across his face.

“I came to see you.”

“I don’t want to see you.” his bitter words make your heart come to a screeching halt. it’s just the game, you tell yourself, he doesn’t mean these words he’s clearly just upset.

“you played well, ba—Jude. please don’t beat yourself up.”

the door opens up more, like he couldn’t resist. seeing your concern for him mixed his feelings about you. at first, he was done with you. said it was for the best to move on, but seeing you here? with your doe-like brown eyes staring into his, he couldn’t resist.

“I’m the laughingstock of the team now. all because I couldn’t shoot the damn ball.”

“why didn’t you?” the words come rolling off your tongue before you can even process. you’d been asking yourself the question ever since the game ended. why didn’t he just shoot the damn ball? what was stopping him? you couldn’t press the questions in your mind any further when you knew what was stopping him: you. its silly and cliche but it’s the truest that’s been gnawing at him. you were the reason he couldn’t bare to see his own rivals lose.

“I don’t want to discuss this.” his shoulders slumped. he hardly notices you’d pushed the door further and allowed yourself in. he knew your care taking tendencies couldn’t bare to see him this down.

“come on,” you guide him into his bedroom, the curtains are drawn and a Spanish soap-opera plays quietly in the corner of his room. you crawl into his bed and allow him to rest against your body. your nails rake across his skin, careful not to put too much pressure on the black forming bruises.

“you really shouldn’t be here.” he mumbles feeling his shoulders and body sink further into the depths of touch. he hates himself for this, he knows he shouldn’t be falling at the hands of his rivals sister, but yet he can’t stop himself.

“I know,” you say peppering kisses to his throbbing temple, like you knew there was too much pressure there, “I’ll deal with that tomorrow, right now I’m here to deal with you.”

“you’re the better gavi, did you know that?” Jude lifts his gaze to meet yours, your lips briefly touch enough to ghost his.

“I did know that actually.”

he may have lost the game, but one things for sure, he didn’t lose you.

[the-offside-rule]

Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - Ugly Sweater

Day 25 of Christmas

Prompt: Ugly Sweater Contest

25 Days Of Christmas

Happy Christmas!

The camera zooms in on the bustling training ground of FC Barcelona. The players are gathered for a unique challenge, and the atmosphere is electric with excitement. Pablo Gavi and Y/n Y/l/n are at the center of it all, surrounded by an array of colorful fabric paints, glitters, and other crafting materials scattered across a large table. “Hola culers, I am Y/n Y/l/n, here with Pablo Gavi and we are here to see who can make the ugliest Christmas jumper.”

“Vamos, Y/n!” Pablo exclaims, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Who do you think is going to make the ugliest jumper?” Y/n rolls her eyes playfully, a grin spreading across her face. “Please, Pablo. You’re the king of ugly. I’m just here to help you look good for once”

“Yo y lo feo no deberíamos estar en la misma frase. A veces me sorprendes, Y/n.” He responds with a laugh, grabbing a neon green paint. “This is going to be epic!” Y/n couldn't help but laugh at the new word he learned just earlier that week: epic. As they dive into the challenge, they begin painting and glueing random materials onto their sweaters. Y/n grabs a handful of googly eyes, sticking them haphazardly all over her sweater. “Mira, Pablo. Un monstruo.” She declares, giggling. Pablo, not one to be outdone, quickly snatches a handful of bright pink feathers. “Ves esto? I’ll make a flamingo sweater. Que original.”

“Original? Creo que quieres decir horrible.” Y/n teases, sticking a paintbrush covered in blue paint into his hair. “Ese es el punto de este desafío, no?” The crew laughed behidn the camera as Pablo tried dodging the paint, but failing miserably. “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” Y/n laughed, not meaning to actually paint his hair. Pablo laughs, attempting to swipe the paint off his head but only making it worse. “You’re going to regret that, Y/n. Just wait until I win this challenge!”

As the clock counts down, they both put the finishing touches on their creations. Pablo, with a shirt that looks like a flamboyant bird’s nest, and Y/n, with a monstrous creation covered in eyes and glitter. “Okay, time’s up! Muestra tu suéter!” Yhe crew shouts, eager to see their creations. They step back, proudly displaying their sweaters. Pablo poses dramatically, striking a pose that makes the crew burst into laughter. “Mira esto! El más feo del mundo!” He declares. “More like the most ridiculous.” Y/n laughs, sticking her tongue out at him. They both turn to the camera, their playful rivalry shining through.

“Okay, final round is a catwalk.” Y/n says, glancing at Pablo with a mischievous glint in her eyes. As they both momentarily turned around to put their jumpers on, the crew let out a few quiet laughs. They counted down from 3 and turned to face eachother, looking one another up and down. Y/n hummed. “You know, it’s hard to have an ugly sweater when you have a face like that.” She gestures playfully at him, her words laced with flirtation. Pablo’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red, and the crew erupts in laughter. “No te rías de mí!” He protests, trying to hide his embarrassment. But his playful smile gives him away.

“Sorry, Pablito, but you really can’t help it.” Y/n adds, leaning closer as she pretends to inspect his sweater. “Qué dices? I’m handsome?” He grins, his blush deepens. “Pero, mi suéter es más feo.” Y/n scoffs. “Más feo? Have you seen mine?” Y/n raises an eyebrow, unable to contain her laughter. “I think you've lost this challenge, guapo.”

“Alright, alright! Let’s just let the viewers decide who’s the winner.” Pablo says, regaining his composure, but the smile never leaves his face. “But we both know it’s going to be me.”

[mouircedes]

GAVI && BELLINGHAM ,, 👮🏽🧑🏻‍🌾

[siempregavi30]

Maestra P.G. pt. 1

Warnings: None for now :)

Barcelona, one of Spains most popular cities, home to one of the most successful Football clubs known to mankind and with the prettiest beach, is also the home of the eighteen year-old perspective nursery teacher, Aerin Harding, who has yet to accommodate to her life in Spain, since she is only there for a one-year internship, before having to go back to Austria, where she was born and raised all her life.

In Barcelona she had to start from zero, all her friends had chosen Italy, Sweden, Ireland or America for their internships, but Aerins heart had always beaten for Spain. Yes, even in Austria the love for FC Barcelona is widely spread, and Aerins father was no exception. She grew up with football games, having a Messi-obsessed father meant watching games and re-caps almost ever two to three nights, and though she hated it at first (mostly because her father was obviously loving the Argentinian Player more than his own offspring) but over time, MSN had the little girl under their spell as well. Watching “Neymar JR skills and goals, 2015/2016” or “Lionel Messi best moments” had become a routine for the girl, there was not a single unwatched video. Not a single match she missed. Not a single time she didn´t sing “Cant del Barca” along whenever she heard it on TV. So when the time came to choose a city for an internship, the girl didn´t hesitate to choose Barcelona.                                                                                                                              And that´s exactly where she is now.                                                         “Emilia! You know we don´t climb on the fence, you could hurt yourself,” the brunette young adult educates the small, blonde five-year-old, who only responds with a shy nod, before taking off to join her friends on the swings.

Suddenly the Headteacher approaches Aerin, whose hands immediately start sweating, her anxiety running a hundred miles per hour, brain coming up with countless of possibilities and scenarios with situations that could equal the girl being in trouble, worse, maybe even kicked out from her nursery, even though she´s sure she hasn´t done anything wrong.

“Aerin, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course, Miss Evans!” She puts a bright smile on her face, allows her green eyes to sparkle with happiness, desperately trying to mask the cold shiver that runs down her spine.

“Tomorrow we´ll have a child join us, whose rather special. He´s very shy and doesn´t allow many people near him or see through him. He´s just moved here from Los Angeles and like you, doesn´t speak any Spanish, so you´ll have one thing in common,” the older woman cracks a joke, and Aerin almost sighs with relief, but plays it off with a small giggle.

Miss Evans quickly brushes the palms of her hands over her black pencil skirt, while clearing her throat, “What I´m trying to tell you is, don´t let that effect you. It´s possible that he will be cold to you, express his distaste, or maybe ignore every attempt of contact, but he will be like that to everyone. It´s just that this can be very frustrating for trainees, especially one as perfectionistic as you.”

The brunette girl takes in the information provided by the Headteacher, going through the explanation of possible behavior in her head once again. “Thank you for letting me know, Miss Evans,” she finally responds with a curt nod, and the Headteacher ushers back to her office, hoping she didn´t miss any important calls during her absence.

“Are you nervous now?”, the voice of a girl causes her to spin around. Strawberry blonde hair is pulled up into a neat ponytail, the tips of them curled, a white bow wrapped around it securely, while blue eyes stare curiously at her. “No, I don´t think so. Maybe a little intimidated,” Aerin answers her friend, Elise, a trainee from Dublin. Elise giggles, showing off her prominent dimples and pearly white teeth, “By a child?”

“A child with special behavior.”

“That´s Aerin to you,” a third person chimes in, and it´s none other than Eden, the only person in their little trio, who was actually born and raised in Spain, but not in Barcelona. Eden is from Cadiz, but just like Aerin, is a big fan of the local football club and wanted to live there, because it meant she could attend games more often. Eden had short, blonde hair with frizzy curls, brown hair and a face adorned with freckles. Aerin only shrugs at her friends, before lifting up her wrist to look at her watch. “I´m done for today,” she tells her friends, who still have four more hours to go, with an apologetic smile.

“Lucky you!”, Elise huffs, before turning her attention to the small boy who was tugging at her sweater to gain her attention. “Girls night at my place on Friday, are you still in?”, Eden asks, crossing her arms, and Aerin nods. “Of course. God knows I need it.” Her friends giggle at her statement, and Aerin quickly makes her way into the building to collect her stuff to leave.

Finally in the secluded and comforting confinement of her car, she leans her head back and sighs deeply. School has become stressful, and even though she is on an internship abroad, she still has homework to do and online exams to take, which was becoming more and more unbearable and unnecessarily hard over the past month. In addition, homesickness has been sneaking itself into her subconsciousness, FaceTimes with her eleven-year-old brother were keeping her from bursting into a fit of tears and sobs every night, and the comforting words of her mother kept giving her strength. Her fathers jokes would lift up her mood too, but not when she was in the middle of a rant and he joked about her struggles.

Even though he is fourty-five years old, he still has to learn when it is appropriate to joke around, or what a joke should include.

Spoiler Alert: It shouldn´t be your childs struggles, but Aerin doesn´t have the heart to tell him, because even though it´s annoying at times, it brings her some sort of calmness and relief, a sign to not take life as seriously and try to enjoy things from time to time.

At home, she swiftly moved into her kitchen after changing into her pajamas, because in the car on her way to her small one-bedroom Apartment, she decided that it is the perfect day for her comfort food, pasta, but the way her mother always cooks it, along with the special sauce. While rummaging through her cabinets, searching for all the necessary ingredients, her phone rings, and without sparing the screen a glance, she accepts the call, expecting it to be her mother or younger sibling, but is instead met with the voice of Talia, her childhood best friend.

“Girl, you have no idea what happened!” Aerin jumps at the exclamation, for a moment not knowing who is on the other end of the call, before she sighs. “I don´t so please, enlighten me.” “Remember the guy I was telling you about like, last week?”

“Justin?”

“What? No, the other one.”

“Sebastian.”

“Are you still stuck in the past? Why are you talking about guys from three months ago? Do you remember Lucas´ friend, the tall guy with juicy lips and a buzzcut?” Aerin scratches her head, thinking about the description, “You mean Andy?”

“No, that´s Destiny´s cousin, he´s so weird now. Big glow down after me, as expected. I´m talking about Ryan,” Talia exclaims from the other end of the phone, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world and Aerin can almost picture the smirk on her face. “Ah, I remember now.” Aerin has no idea who her friend is talking about, but Talia doesn´t need to know that.

“Yeah, anyways he asked me on a date,” the curly haired brunette snickers devilishly, and something in Aerins chest squeezes at the familiar sound, the homesickness is almost unbearable and the need to hug Talia is prominent. “That´s great, T! Did you say yes?” Talia bursts out into a fit of laughter, the sound of skin slapping, probably Talia smacking her thigh to emphasize the fact that she finds Aerins statement to be hilarious, can be heard and the green-eyed girl only huffs, while her eyes dart between two packs of pasta, unsure if she wants the ones that look like bows or spirals. “Hell no, he´s ugly. Are you saying I should date ugly guys, because I´m ugly?” Spirals it is then, and additional to the homesickness, she´s about to get a headache.

“Of course not Talia. I don´t even know that Ryan looks like, but if he´s ugly I´m glad you said no,” she sweettalks her way out of misery and hears her friend hum in approval. “So, what have you been up to lately? You haven´t been texting me as much,” Talia asks, and Aerin places the pot filled with water onto her stove. “The usual. School´s been stressing me out lately,” she admits to her friend, the only person she can really talk with when it comes to school.

Aerin fears that if she talks about this with her parents, they´ll just worry too much and worrying parents most of the times add more stress, rather than take it away.

“Exams and stuff?”

“Yup,” she answers, popping the P. Talia groans from the opposite side of the call, “Bro, you´re in Spain, shouldn´t you be partying hard every night? Salsa, fiesta, siesta or whatever, you know? Like, get some guy to teach you Bachata or something!” Aerin chuckles, the typical Talia-Type-Answer is exactly what she needs, she realizes. “I wish, but sadly that´s not possible. Also, the handful of friends I have here hates partying,” she explains her friend, while pulling her brown hair into a messy bun. “At this point you need me to move there so you can enjoy life. How come you didn´t already die of boredom?” Having Talia move to Barcelona would truly be a blessing to Aerin, because she has never been this far apart from her best friend, has never not seen her for months straight.

“I wish you could move here, T. I miss you,” Aerin mumbles into the air, her phone is placed on the counter. Talia sighs, “Trust me Rin. I miss you too. Austria is basically dead without you.” “You still pull dates, though.” Both girls share a moment of laughter, but the pain and desperation can be heard from both sides, the laughter is anything but sincere. The water in the pot begins to bubble, signaling that it´s finally ready for Aerin to cook her pasta. “Hey T, I´m a bit busy with cooking right now, how about we FaceTime later?” “Sure thing girl! Just call me, you know I´m never busy,” Aerin can see the wink Talia throws at the phone in her head, and giggles, before bidding her friend goodbye and ending the call.

After getting the pasta ready, she sits down at the table, that harbors four chairs in her living-room, while scrolling through social-media, liking some of the posts of her friends that share their favorite moments in random picture-dumps. One of Aerins closest friends, Ella, posted pictures of herself attending different fashion shows in Milano, and some random pictures of cats and Italys street-food. For a few seconds, her thumb hovers over the empty heart-button. Something in her just doesn´t want to like the dump. Something in her is upset at the fact that all of her classmates seem to be enjoying their time away from their families, out living their best lives while still managing school as if it´s nothing, able to attend fashion shows or eat out at lavish restaurants. Meanwhile Aerin is once again, at the verge of a big mental breakdown. Homesickness, fear of failing school and just the language barrier in Spain. Everything always adds up and up, until one day the bubble of anxiety pops.

Aerin pauses to take a deep breath, the familiar scent of the comfort-meal in front of her, though only for a short moment, gives her the feeling of being at home again, surrounded by her family in the small Austrian Town, where everyone knows each other. The girl shakes her head, coming back to reality and presses the empty heart, turning it a soft red, before she continued swiping up her screen, revealing other posts and reels.

The next day, Aerin is up early to choose the perfect outfit. Kids love colors, boys especially love bright, loud and energetic colors and she wants to make a good impression on the, allegedly, cold little boy, so she decides it´s the perfect opportunity to pull out an orange blazer to pair it with jeans and a white blouse. She hates that blazer, the whole outfit in general, because it makes her look like she has her life under control, even though she´s far away from it, but it´s not the time to mope and cry about the unfairness of her life and the way she´s living it. Aerin has her mind set on that little boy. She wants him to like her, she needs an achievement that can prove that she´s capable of this, capable for this job, capable for this city, capable to get a degree in two and a half years. Colorful bracelets are wrapped around her left wrist, she doesn´t like bracelets on the hand she writes with, and decent rings adorn her fingers, showcasing her milky-pink nails. With one last glance at the mirror on the wall of her small hallway, she exits the warm comfort of her house and enters the spring-air of Barcelona, which she can only enjoy for a few seconds before she climbs into her car. It´s a nice little VW Polo in white, a gift from her beloved Nana. Her head begins to throb at the intense scent of the little Scent-Tree and she immediately opens the windows of her car.

The kids in the English-Speaking nursery eye Aerin with bright eyes. It´s not like she arrives dressed in black every day, but usually her outfits include more neutral colors like cream, sage green, white, a light yellow etc. “Cute fit you got there Rin!”, Elise compliments immediately, clasping her hands together while smiling brightly. “Thank you!”, Aerin salutes her friend, greets all children, and slips into the confinement of her little playroom at the end of the hall. She immediately moves to her desk and organizes everything to make it look as perfect and as professional as it can get, incase the parents walk in to introduce themselves. She straightens her blouse, brushes out some curls with the tips of her fingers and looks through her plan for the day, since she had forgotten to do it the night before.

A sudden knock disturbs the silence of the empty playroom. The Headteacher, Miss Evans, opens the door and peeks inside, before she announces, “You have a guest, Miss Harding.” Aerins jaw tightens, her palms turn sweaty and she forgets every single word in English, her brain throws German words around like it´s a pillow-fight. A deep breath in. 1,2,3. She breathes out, unclenching her jaw and forcing her lips to form a smile, as she points at the two chairs in front of her desk, non-verbally asking the guests to come in. A young woman walks in, looking barely older than Aerin herself, her blonde hair is pulled into a low bun, her plump, red-painted lips display a smile and she´s wearing office-clothing, meaning a gray pencil skirt, a white blouse and a gray blazer with black kitten heeled-shoes. Aerins eyes move to the little boy, who´s holding on to his mothers hand, his hair the exact same blonde, a small button nose, pouty lips and big brown eyes. She quickly stands up from her chair and holds her hand out for the woman to take. “Aerin Harding, very nice to meet you Miss…?”, her voice trails off at the end, expecting the woman to talk.

“Páez! Sofia Páez, and this is Manuel Pablo Páez. It´s very nice to meet you too Miss Harding,” she introduces herself and her little son. Aerin smiles softly, for some weird reason the mother´s nervousness takes away some of her own. She crouches down to the height of the young boy and extends her hand, “Hello Manuel.” Instead of giving her his own little head, the boy hides behind his mothers legs, while still glancing at the trainee from time to time. Aerin licks her lips from frustration.

It´s okay. Kids are shy. This is normal. This means nothing.

“Okay, maybe next time,” she smiles at the mother of the boy, before motioning her to take a seat at one of the chairs, as she gets comfortable on her own chair. “Miss Páez, I´ve been told that little Manuel here will be staying in my playroom, which means I´ll be his main nursery teacher. Are there any allergies or other important things I need to look out for?”, the eighteen-year-old asks, while pulling out a notebook and a pen, proud at the fact that she didn´t stutter.

“He has a peanut allergy.”

Of course has.

“And he really loves carrots.”

Of course he loves carrots.

Aerin writes the information down into her notebook, unaware of the fact that she´s poking out her tongue through her lips, a sign of concentration. She hears the blonde woman giggle for a second and looks up with a curious glance. “My cousin, Pablo, does that as well,” she explains, and Aerin forces herself to smile, while cocking an eyebrow up. “I´m sorry, what exactly does he do as well?” “Stick his tongue out when he´s concentrated.” “Ah, I do that?”, Aerin softly chuckles, “I´ve never noticed.” Suddenly a new burst of curiosity sparks through Aerin, as she asks the woman in front of her, “Pablo, you named your son after your cousin. Are you guys close?” A soft blush coats the tips of Sofias ears, a fond, sincere smile spreads on her face, “Yes. I´ve basically raised him, along with his older sister Aurora. In our family he´s…kind of a star. I thought that maybe naming Manuel after him could give him some luck. Even an ounce of Pablos luck on Manuel would be enough.” Aerin nods, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. “Well then, I hope I can contribute to a successful future!”, her tone signals the young mother that their conversation is coming to an end. “I have no doubt you will,” the woman expresses her thoughts, and a burst of pride courses through the young adults chest.

She accompanies Sofia to the door, allowing all the other children in her playroom to enter. “Miss Harding, can I just say something before I leave?” Aerins eyes dart to the four-year-old boy, who´s looking at the other kids, before she nods. Sofia sighs, “Manuel can be very difficult to get along with. In America, I took him to special teachers, but he would refuse to talk to any of them. He wouldn´t play, eat or say anything the entire time he was there. It would mean the world to me if you could look out for him. He´s…an easy target.” The brunette girl places a comforting hand on the shoulder of the blonde, “Don´t worry Miss Páez. Manuel is safe here.” A deep breath exits Sofias nose, as if she´s been holding onto it during her entire visit. She thanks Aerin and quickly presses kisses on Manuels cheeks before exiting the Nursery. Aerin closes the door to her playroom, pleased by the atmosphere inside. All kids are busy with playing, drawing or looking through books. All, except one.

Manuel.

Aerin sighs. “Manuel, don´t you want to play with the other kids?”, she asks, placing her hands on her lap while leaning down near his height. He looks like someone she knows, Aerin realizes, but she can´t pinpoint who. He has big brown eyes and frowns often. Manuel doesn´t respond to the trainees question, only stares at the ground. “Do you want me to show you around the playroom?” Comfort is key, especially for little kids. Only in an environment where they feel comfortable and safe, they will allow themselves to open up, like a flower blooming in spring. But to get comfortable in a new environment, you have to get to know it first. The blonde boy only fists the hem of his sweater, eyes still trained on the ground and for a moment Aerin fears she spoke German instead of English and confused the boy.

“Aerinnnnn!”, a young girl jumps towards the girl, holding a book in her direction to show her the cover. “Can you read this to me? Please?” Aerin adverts her eyes from Manuel, a wide smile spreading on her face, “Of course Clara. Go sit down on the couch, I´ll join you in a moment.” The girl giggles excitedly and jumps towards the book-corner of the playroom, that has a pink-blue child-sized couch perched against the wall. “Would you like to join us?”, she tries once again with the stubborn little boy, who once again, doesn´t respond. Aerin lets out a defeated sigh, before she takes off her blazer to place it on her chair to join Clara.                                

“It´s very nice of you to visit me, Pablo!”, Sofia smiles at her cousin, who is none other than FC Barcelonas golden boy, Gavi. Gavi places the Take-Out he bought for his cousin on her desk in her office, a small grin spreads on his face. “It´s good to have you back Sof. Expect me here more often.”

“It´s good to be back. You don´t know how much I´ve missed Spain,” the blonde woman sighs, taking the contents of the bag out to see what her precious cousin bought her. “Where´s Manuel? It´s been a while since I´ve last seen him,” the youngster lets himself fall on the expensive chair opposite of his cousin, crossing his ankles in the process. “Ah, he´s probably at home by now, with Diego. Today was his first day in nursery school,” she excitedly tells Pablo, who softly smiles. “His nursery teacher is very nice. Her name is Aerin, she´s a trainee from Austria, but she seems very professional. I think she´s your age,” Sofia continues, while staring at her Burrito with hearty eyes. “Sounds like a real gem,” Gavi answers, though he believes that he couldn´t care any less about his great-cousins teachers, or personal information about them.

“Oh Pablo, before I forget; next week on Friday I have a meeting with my boss and Diego is in Valencia for business. Could you please be so nice and pick Manuel up from school on that day? I have no one else at the moment,” Sofia pleads, frowning at her cousin. “At what time?” He really doesn´t want to. Sofia sighs from relief, “You have until five. I´d pick him up from your place at seven, if that´s okay?”

It´s not, but it´s only been about two weeks since Sofia returned back to Barcelona after living in Los Angeles for almost three years, so he couldn´t really say no to her. “It´s fine. Ana wanted to come over, she´s missed him al lot, so I´ll just let her handle it,” he explains his cousin, who excitedly claps her hands. “You´re the best Pablito!” Gavi can´t hear that sentence anymore. He lost count on how many times he´s heard it in the past week in total. He loves the attention and recognition he´s getting, especially the special treatment he´s been receiving the last few months have been nothing but pure bliss to his youthful ego, though sometimes he fears all the fame has gotten too much to his head. It ´s just that compliments have stopped affecting the eighteen-year-old, all he hears all day is praise.

“Bravo Gavi, you´re insane!”

“Gavi is ESPNs´ number five of the best youngsters!”

“Spains youngest world-cup goal scorer: Gavi!”

He doesn´t dare think about the edits on Instagram or TikTok, or the way he has started to purposefully lift his jerseys during games, sometimes even taking them off completely, while being painfully aware of the effect this has on most of his viewers. Who can blame him, though? He´s eighteen and has girls his age, some older, some younger, wrapped around his finger, while some of his friends struggle to come out of the talking-stage, most of their attempts even getting rejected. Gavi doesn´t even have to try to get someone to like him, they just do. His eyes land on the picture of Manuel, perched on Sofias desk and Gavi almost frowns at the facial expression of the little boy. He stares straight ahead, his big brown eyes seem so distant, and there´s a small smile displayed on his lips, though it doesn´t seem sincere. “Why does Manu look so sad in that picture?”

“That´s him being happy, Pablo.”

“Oh.”

The youngster meets a lot of children on a daily, especially young football fans, obviously, and never has he seen a child look as gloomy as Manuel did, while being “happy”.

He concludes that he now really dreads Friday, especially when he thinks about the fact that Ana Pelayo, a friend of his since childhood, would be coming over for…adult business… and now he would have to take care of a four-year-old gloomy little gremlin. Gavi regrets saying yes. He knows Sofia has basically no one here, except for him and her husband Diego, the rest of their family still lives in Sevilla and Sofia knows that Gavi has more than enough space in his house for little Manu. “Speaking of Ana,” Gavi dreads the conversation that is about to follow up with that question already, “how is she?”

“She´s good. Recently she got invited to an event,” he discreetly answers. “Yeah? There are rumors going around,” Sofia smirks while taking a bite of her Burrito. Pablos lips tighten into a straight line, even though he knew curious Sofia, who always reads about the latest tea online, would ask him about that. “She´s only been to one game of mine and people are going crazy. We´re just friends,” he answers as nonchalant as possible, but much to his dismay, Sofias smirk only widens. “That´s not what your mom and Aurora said.” Every vein in Gavis body basically freezes, a sense of betrayal and anger courses through his body, causing the hair on his body to rise uncomfortably. How could his mother possibly know about his affiliations with Anita? He only ever told his sister, Pedri and Ansu and Alejandro and Ferran know minor details. He wants to vanish into thin air with the clap of his hands, the conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn and he fears that soon he might start blushing, which would just confirm his cousins suspicions.

“What did they tell you?”, he quirks an eyebrow up, acting clueless about the accusations. Sofia was a huge part of his life, she took care of him, changed his diapers, bathed him, mothered him at some points, but she wasn´t there the past three years of his life. The last time he saw her in person, he was fourteen, at the verge of turning fifteen, and now his nineteenth birthday is mere months away, he had matured and changed, so Gavi knows it is almost impossible for her to read him like a book, an ability she had a few years back. “Well, your mother claims you´re crushing on her and Rora said you kissed at a party,” Sofia wiggles with her eyebrows and adverts her gaze to the screen of her Laptop. Gavis eye twitches, he can´t believe that his family would ever expose him like that. “No. The kiss; we were drunk. But the crush? Big no,” he shakes his head with furrowed brows. In that sense, he wasn´t lying. Gavi doesn´t have a crush on his gorgeous friend. He had been crushing on her in the past, but that vanished quick after people started shipping them or claiming that they are secretly dating, making edits of Ana, which unintentionally got to the brunettes head, causing her to be quite egotistical at times. She was basking in the lavish lifestyle of his fame, and at first Gavi wanted to cut ties, but with fame comes frustration in more ways than one. So, they agreed to be friends with benefits, both allowed to see, date or fuck other people, and Gavi used his pretty face and toned body to his advantage whenever he entered a club in Barcelona.

How could he not? He´s a teenage boy with a great life, no privacy, but he can fulfill his families´ wildest dreams, buy them designer items every once in a while, and lives in a spacy apartment with the best view to Barcelonas beach. Plus, you only live once, so why not make the best of it? Sofia nods at his statement and doesn´t pry any further, which Gavi couldn´t be any more grateful for, because the conversation about his love-life is usually one he avoids at all cost. He quickly pulls his phone out to text Pedri.

Me: Hey, quick question. Do you, by any chance, have a fake beard or something?

Pedri: Gavi what the fuck.

A whole week.

Aerin has been trying to get Manuel to respond for a whole week, but all she gets is a blank stare right into her eyes, which at this point never fail to make a shiver run down her spine. For some reason Eden thought it was a good idea to claim that maybe Manuel has been adopted, is faking his age and is actually a serial killer who presents himself like a child. The rest of their Friday-girls-night was spent with Aerin thinking back to that statement and seeing if Manuel really showed any signs of being a serial killer who is not four, but actually thirty-two.

Finally it´s Friday and Aerin can use the weekend to study for her geography test on Thursday, though she knows that the burnout that is eating her alive, won´t give her the necessary motivation to actually take her notes out and carefully read through them, even though she would love to do that. It´s always the same routine: she wants to study, reads books or listens to music instead of studying, gets anxious about the test, gets anxious about her anxiety, decides that Saturday is her self-care day which means no studying and an hour before the test she gets a mental breakdown where she curses herself for not using her time to study. Will she do it differently the next time? No.

She´s alone with Manuel again, somehow he´s always the last to get picked up, which is probably the biggest downside of having successful business-people as your parents. They are sitting at her desk. The chair on the right is his favorite spot, especially because he can see outside through the window and watch people live their lives instead of doing what people his age usually do: cry, eat, sleep, play, cry, eat, play and so on. Though he doesn´t respond or look at her, Aerin sometimes finds herself babbling to him about the most random things.

On Wednesday, where they were in the same position as they are right now, she told him about a crazy lady in the supermarket, who was desperately searching for Principe Cookies with Moratas face on them, because in her opinion searching for Gavi or Pedri cookies would be worth the frustration. “So I went to the arcade to get the plush animal I was telling you about on Monday, and found out someone else had already won it,” she complains to Manuel, who swings with his feet, an arm draped over the back of his chair, gaze fixed on the window. “You don´t know how disappointed I was, Manu. It was crazy. I could´ve cried my eyes out,” she huffs and crosses her list of daily tasks. She had started including her conversations with Manuel to her To-Do-List. “And then I went to the guy who works there and asked if they had another one of those pink cats with glitter tongues but he-“

A knock.

Aerin frowns at the disruption, before asking the person to enter her playroom. The door opens and reveals a guy, wearing a baseball cap, a mask covering the lower half of his face and dark sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Manuel and Aerin exchange glances for a second. “Uhh hi I´m Pablo. I think Sofia told you that I´d pick up the little grem- little gem today?”, he stutters while rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Aerin smiles, “Ah, so you must be the Pablo Manu is named after!” “You know about that?” “Sofia shares a lot of personal information. I´m Aerin by the way.”

Ah, so that´s her.

Gavi definitely agrees with her, his cousin is truly an over-sharer. “So, ehm, Manuel, are you coming?”, he awkwardly walks up to the boy and extends his hand, expecting him to quickly grip his and walk out with him, but Manuel only stares at his hand, before turning his head back to the window. Aerin bites her lip in order to not burst out with laughter and humiliate the unknown guy any further. Gavi watches her with a, to her invisible, frown. Who does she think she is? That she´s some kind of psychic just because she works with children on a daily and can control them any better than he can? Hell no, Gavi can do that too. “Manu? Vamos, I have surprise guest for you at home!” Manuel doesn´t even budge, only blinks. Gavi could feel the embarrassment and frustration grow in the pit of his stomach, and Aerin could sense the insecurity coming from his body. She quickly closes the cap of her pen, before standing up and kneeling in front of Manuel, disturbing his clear view outside. She tickles his stomach, “Listen big man, how about we go outside instead of just staring at it from inside? I heard there are some really pretty flowers at the parking-lot, and I want to take a few home with me, so come and help me pick out the prettiest ones!”, she softly holds the boys’ hand and urges him to stand up, which the boy does without a word of protest. Pablo can feel his eye twitch at the fact that she did that so easily and smoothly but follows them to the hallway so the boy can change. “Look at that! You have new boots, and they can even light up! I´m so jealous Manu,” she lets out an exasperate sigh, and for the first time, he smiles. Aerins eyes widen, she almost drops his boot out of her hands, but quickly regains her composure. A flash of pride crashes through her body and she can´t suppress the wide smirk growing on her face.

While Aerin is busy with Manuels boots, Gavi takes a look at the pictures hanging on the walls. Most of them are, as expected in a nursery, pictures of children, smiling at the camera, covered in cake-batter or in the garden, too busy with plucking flowers to notice the camera, taking pictures of them. His eyes land on a picture of Aerin and Eden, a Barcelona scarf is wrapped around Aerins neck, the FC Barcelona home-kit almost hidden beneath it, while smiling widely at the camera. Eden on the other hand, has her fists raised into the air, wearing the third kit proudly. “You´re a Culer?”, he asks, curiosity suddenly sparked. Aerin looks back to Gavi, “Yes.” “Who´s your favorite player?”, he leans his back against the wall, watching how the girl helps his little cousin with his shoes. “I have many,” Aerin answers, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And those are?”, he pries further, mostly because his ego wants her to say his name, to praise him, tell him how much she loves Gavi and how big her unhealthy obsession with him is, unaware of the fact that she´s basically admitting it to his face. “If I had to choose just one, I´d say Ousmane Dembele, but my top five are Dembele, Pedri, Araujo, De Jong and Ter Stegen,” she lists and Gavi feels every bit of his self-esteem crumble for a split second as he doesn´t hear the four letters of his shortened last name exit her plump lips. He doesn´t ask further, though. Manuel stands up from his seat, dressed and ready to leave the school. “Bye Manu,” she waves at him with a bright smile, and Manu waves back with a monotone expression.

Gavi takes the little boy up into his arms, and looks at Aerin for a second, “Adios, Maestra.”

[oliviablancmom]

Enemies - Pablo Gavi

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Oc!character

Summary: When they got attached in the hate for each other

A/N: My Gavi girls, it's finally here. Sorry for making you wait. I didn't intend to post so soon, but the story of these two is speaking to m, or rather, screaming. To everyone who followed 'Pedriiii', I hope you're here with me as well. I hope you like these two as much as I do." Ps: I actually considered giving the title "Pablito" to this one, to follow along with Pedriiii lol

Before

In his work environment, Gavi had to deal with many voices, sometimes encouraging, sometimes demanding, coming from all sides: his family, his friends, his team, his teammates, the fans, the haters. Everyone had something to say, an opinion. He believed that it was from these voices that his focus and instinctive leadership, came from, somehow an anchor that kept him focused. For Gavi, football was simple: it was about entering the field and getting the best result, no matter what or who.

On the field, he had only one goal: to help his team win. He had to stand out; he had to be bigger than the voices; he had to have control over the situation. Whether demanding more seriousness and effort from his teammates during training or more concentration and grit during matches, he was relentless. When he defended his team with the greatest ferocity in the world, opponents knew he didn't mess around when it came to Barcelona. He would bleed for the team, and if necessary, make the opponent bleed too. Many said his intensity on the field was unnecessary, childish, and merely a lack of control. But again, they were just voices. Gavi would rise above them too. Well, at least he would try, and most of the time he succeeded. He didn't care when they called him childish, didn't care about the players who had more years in their career or were more famous than him, didn't care about the actions and success of their biggest rival. They were not Barcelona. At the end of the day, they were just voices, and he stood up to them. It had always been that way, and it always would be. Well, at least it should be.

Gavi couldn't remember when he started to notice it, when that voice began to stand out from the others and especially have an impact on him. Well, actually it didn’t, he thought. But he had to admit, that voice was indeed, little by little, breaking through the great wall he had built around himself, and it was annoying. Who did she think she was? And it wasn’t the voice of his conscience, which even that he could control; it was the hoarse and shrill voice from shouting, involved in a false sweetness, cursing and belittling him, doubting him, laughing at him. Gavi looked around, staring at the crowd dressed in white, trying to find where that voice was coming from, but it was hard to tell.

The people in the stands looked at him strangely, increasing the intensity of their insults. Gavi shook his head and turned his attention back to the game. He decided to switch his position and wouldn't go near where the voice was coming from, distracting him.

The match had ended in a defeat for Barcelona. Gavi had gone to complain to the fourth official about his yellow card; it was unfair, especially since the Madrid player didn't receive a yellow card for a similar play. As he approached the tunnel, the voices grew louder, and he could hear the insults more clearly. Then, like a snap, that little voice stood out again.

"It's no use crying now. If you’re incompetent on the field, it’s not the referees’ fault." Gavi felt his blood boil. He stopped in his tracks, looking for who was responsible, and there in the corner of the tunnel, almost hidden by a sponsor's banner. A mocking smile on her face, a look of superiority that the Madrid fans always had.

"Aw, how cute, a fan. What do you want? A photo, an autograph..." Gavi's voice dripped with sarcasm. The girl made a face. "Come on, sweetheart, I don't have all day, and I can see you're craving my attention."

"In your dreams," she replied angrily.

"Looks like it's in yours," Gavi retorted, taking a step towards the girl.

She didn't seem intimidated at all, which was strange. Usually, when he assumed his ego-filled player persona, it had an effect. But the girl seemed indifferent to his aura at that moment.

"Believe whatever makes you feel better. You and your terrible team need a dose of delusion."

Before he could respond, he was pulled away by his teammate. Gavi looked over his shoulder, seeing the girl smile triumphantly at him. Seeing her smile like that made his mind automatically associate it with all the times he had heard the insults, coming from a faceless voice, a blur in his memory. Resonating in his mind as a reminder to strive harder, to play with more hunger, to attack more. Gavi felt a flicker of confusion and annoyance. Why did this voice affect him more than the others?

He didn't want to admit the impact that situation was having on him. However, he knew, he felt deep down in his core, that the voice, now with a face, would continue to follow him, and it would be easier to identify where it came from. Gavi considered forgetting the matter—it was just an fervent opposing fan. He was truly determined to ignore it, after all, he might never see her again. But it was already ingrained in his mind, he shook his head, trying to dismiss the encounter. Yet, deep down, he knew the girl's face and voice would haunt him, pushing him to prove her wrong.

********************************************

A/N: I told you that we were definitely heading into the enemy's path... and you can't even imagine. I hope you enjoyed this brief introduction, and I can't wait for you to meet our sweetheart.

[p1astories]

# 𝐏𝟏𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺 — navigation.

free palestine. — bookworm history nerd / swimmer | bisexual | asian-british | she / her | 🧺🌺🪿🪭

— #ALT ACCOUNTS !

# @f1-and-shiz

— formula one blog | #🍒🪩🍾

— #WORKS !

#OCs

nothing here yet !

#READER INSERT

# PG8 —

IMAGINES :

nothing here yet !

BLURBS :

# — 6:15 AM. work in progress ! will be out soon.

— #GUIDELINES !

# absolutely no — smut ( not yet ) , racism , homophobia , transphobia , disrespect or anything of the sort — you will be immediately blocked and reported.

# i write — x gender neutral ! reader and x female ! reader , smau , imagine , blurb , series.

# i write for — ( # — FOOTBALL :: pedri , gavi , ferran torres , joao felix , marc guiu , lamine yamal , hector fort , jamal musiala , florian wirtz , kai havertz , joshua kimmich , ruben dias , pau cubarsi , cole palmer , robin le normand , pablo torre , lena oberdorf , alexia putellas , manuel neuer , alessia russo , julian alvarez , fermin lopez , marc bernal , martin odegaard , jule brand , federico chiesa , scott mctominay , kenan yildiz , son heung - min , jude bellingham , riccardo calafiori , leah williamson , lucas bergvall , rasmus hojlund , pablo torre , thomas muller , mason mount , alejandro garnacho , bukayo saka , arda guler , ona batlle , aitana bonmati

( # — FORMULA ONE :: franco colapinto , oscar piastri , paul aron , jack doohan , max verstappen , arthur leclerc , kimi antonelli , ollie bearman , rbr ! sebastian vettel , jenson button

( # — OLYMPICS :: keegan palmer , leon marchand ,

( # — FICTIONAL :: conrad oxford , eggsy unwin , percy jackson , jason grace ,

( # — ACTORS / SINGERS :: nicholas alexander chavez ,

( # — KEEP AN EYE ON THIS LIST ( above ) :: this list may be added onto a lot , as i very quickly find new people to obsess over ( lol ) or i just might not feel like writing for them anymore. also, keep in mind that this list only contains who i feel the most comfortable abt writing, but i like to be pushed out of my comfortzone once in a while :) — you may suggest someone that isn’t on this list in my ask box , and i’ll decide if i want to write them :).

# warning — probs inconsistent posting , swearing , slightly mature themes , possible violence or anything trauma inducing — i will be adding a trigger warning.

# taglist — ( if you want to be tagged when i post a fic , write ‘ # ’ under this post <3 )

c. #P1ASTORIES — 2024.

[swmzq]

MASTERLIST

(requests are open)

footballers

-joão félix

-paulo dybala Juno

-pablo gavi

-ferran torres please, please, please

-pedri gonzález

-fermín lopez

-sergio ramos

-jude bellingham

-ruben dias

-neymar jr

-kylian mbappe

-others

celebrities

-taylor swift Good luck,babe!

-chappell roan

-zendaya

-glen powell

-drew starkey

-lana del rey

-austin butler

-cillian murphy

-jacob elordi

-timothée chalamet

-80s roger taylor

-80s brian may

-others

characters

-borhap!roger taylor

-tyler owens

-borhap!john deacon

-eric(a quiet place: day one)

-neil lewis

-felix catton

-oliver quick

-others

what I’ll write

-smut

-fluff

-angst

-fem x fem

-fem x male

-gn!reader x oc

-headcanons

-fics

-drabbles

-love triangles

what I don’t write

-oc x oc

-homophobia

-threesome (I have nothing against it but I’m just not good at writing smut like this)

-incest

-racism

-rape

-piss kink

-etc



that’s it bye for now!

[footoballrps]

ayo ! new to the glorious game of football, seriker caught my eye and here i am now, obsessed and learning !

this is a discord rp plot call for football rpf and football oc x oc rps !

   * currently only writing m x m ships.

20+ long-term writing partners only ! open to plotting, texts, headcanons, nsfw. mutual respect and communication of limits and triggers important.

some of the ships i am currently familiar with and looking to write are — seriker (sergio ramos · iker casillas), modramos / ramodric (sergio ramos · luka modric), modkroos (luka modric · toni kroos) · · · and bellingavi (jude bellingham · pablo gavi), pedrigavi (pedri gonzalez · pablo gavi), pedribell (pedri gonzalez · jude bellingham) · · · and jamieroy / kentartt ( roy kent · jamie tartt), tedependent (ted lasso · trent crimm) and more of the football ships you'll introduce me to !

like this post or message me and we can get this going ! it's already so rare to find such rps, so i am looking forward to this quite the bit. hope to hear from y'all soon !

[solaireverie]

guidelines ⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡

—i create x reader, x oc, and ship content

—if i'm not comfortable with your request i'll delete it

—i do my best to fulfill requests but sometimes the brain juice just doesn't flow. please be patient + kind ❤

—you can request for anyone / any ship that you'd like but if it's not listed below it's possible that i won't create for it. i'm pretty openminded though so shoot your shot!

—i adore creating for polyships and am okay with basically any combination

—do not request nsfw content. i may occasionally create it of my own volition but inspiration comes very rarely so you'll probably just be disappointed

∘⋆․⊹․∘⟡˖*⊹ ∘⋆․ formula 1 / motorsport

drivers: charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, max verstappen, sebastian vettel, lando norris, mick schumacher, alex albon, fernando alonso, logan sargeant, yuki tsunoda

ships: lestappen, brocedes, yukierre, sebchal, sewis, simi, seb/anyone tbh

football ⋆｡°✩☾⋆｡°✩

players: pablo gavi, pedri, julian alvarez, frenkie de jong, martin ødegaard, kristie mewis, mapi leon, sophia smith, aitana bonmatí

ships: pedrigavi, mullendowski, modramos, sernando, kunessi, whatever pep and mourinho have going on

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ⋅* other

characters: kageyama tobio, kuroo tetsurou, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, zen'in maki, levi ackerman

ships: kagehina, sakuatsu, nanago, itafushi, nobamaki, eruri, kesper, firstprince

notes ੈ ✩. ‧ ₊˚

types: fics, social media aus, edits, & web weaves

readers: i write for all genders and pronouns. i'm partial to driver / footballer!reader and driver / footballer's family!reader

genres: fluff, humor, angst, hurt/comfort, crack

do not request: smut, nsfw/dc, suicide/self-harm, abuse

[lunaandco]

i know who you pretend i am series

pairing: gavi x ofc

on-going

summary: catalan author aroa ferrer is about to be translated into spanish. to promote her book, her publisher has the worst idea possible: a pr relationship with a heartthrob footballer.

masterlist

meet the ocs:

aroa ferrer; 20 years old; author; catalan filology student

alicia ochoa; 21 years old; influencer; fashionista

guide: 💋: spice // 💔: angst // 🩷: fluff // 💦: smut

(the distinction between spice and smut: smut goes into detail, spice is more vague, but still explicit)

CHAPTERS:

• part one 🩷

• part two 🩷

• part three 🩷

[kaiispost]

My requests are open for:

Neymar Jr x Male Reader - Pablo Gavi x Male Reader - Jude Bellingham x Male Reader - Finely Burns x male reader - Joao Felix x male reader - and more…

If you want to request a male!oc (original character) or a gn (gender neutral) don’t be shy! But please don’t request anything too crazy ifykyk.

Bye!

[the-offside-rule]

I'm gonna start doing some more headcanon posts from now on so requests are open for headcanons now (both footballers AND drivers)

[lunaandco]

warriors

pairing: gavi x ofc

social media au

summary: everyone thought gavi would be the fighter in the relationship. no one was ready for the way people would talk about lorena's body.

warnings: body shaming, homophobia and misogyny. hopeful ending. angst.

taglist: @htpssgavi

@ pablogavi posted to his stories:

[replies are deactivated]

@ lorenaromero03 posted:

liked by pablogavi, user1 and 3.645.778 more

lorenaromero03: recap 💪💪

user1: queen

user2: she beat the crap out of everyone. deserved!

user3: that's gavi's girl?

>user4: it looks like it is

user5: lmao I just checked her new boyfriend, I didn't know lore was into pretty boys

>user6: he's her trophy wife I guess

>>user7: he's a literal footballer

>>>user6: trophy wife now, sorry I don't make the rules

user8: looks like a man 🤮🤮

>user9: I'm sure a world champion is crying bc you think she looks bad

>>user8: it's just my opinion, stop crying

pablogavi: so proud of you 😍

>lorenaromero03: 🥰☺️

user10: wowowo she's so cool

user11: congratulations!

user12: gavi getting an accomplished woman with her own career 🤩

>user13: girl why do you care so much

@ pinkblaugrananews posted:

liked by user14, user15 and 728.828 more

pinkblaugrananews: barcelona midfielder gavi confirms his relationship with ufc champion lorena romero through his Instagram stories. he went to support her on her fight yesterday. such a lovely couple!

user14: she looks too manly

>user15: she's an athlete. her body is not meant to look feminine, it's meant to make her a champion

>>user14: but gavi could do better. there are prettier girls

>>>user15: like you? don't make me laugh

user16: I'm glad she's not your average influencer girl. it's cool to see wags who are focusing on their own careers

user17: 🤢🤮

user18: damn i didn't know gavi was into men 🏳️‍🌈

>user19: that is a woman what are you on

>>user18: too ugly and manly if she is

>>>user20: gayvi 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

>>>>user21: your misogyny and homophobia is showing. congrats

user22: damn what a girl

user23: are we sure they are not just firends?

>user24: right? I though Gavi had better taste

user25: 💔💔

@ lorenaromero03 posted:

liked by pablogavi, user26 and 1.171.543 more

lorenaromero: holidays <3

user26: she's ugly

user27: she's not girly enough

user28: you go girl!

user29: I hate Gavi for making me look at this ugly thing

>user30: how does he even get it up around her I don't know

pablogavi: mi niña bonitaa

>lorenaromero03: mi niño precioso 🥰

>>user31: this guy is blind

>>>user32: lol

user28: yall don't deserve muscle mommys. she's hot. get over it weirdos

[comments have been restricted]

@ nocontxtbarça posted:

liked by user33, user34 and 56.532 more

nocontxtbarça: angry gavi compilation

user33: angry bird

user34: he's all bark no bite

>user35: wait until his gf teaches him some moves

>>user36: 💀💀💀

user37: pov: you thought he'd be the tough one in the relationship

user38: overrated

user39: he's tamer now...

>user40: he's growing up, maybe

user41: he knows that if someone wants to take revenge off the pitch they'll have to go through his gf first 💅💅

>user42: weird fanfic bro

>>user43: yes bro. she's so ugly they'll get scared

>>>user44: she's a woman. any fit man can beat her

>>>>user41: just say you're a loser and go

@ pinkblaugrananews posted:

liked by user45, user46 and 372.272 more

pinkblaugrananews: gavi's girlfriend lorena romero deactivated her instagram. many think is due to the harassment and repetitive comments over her body by fans and haters

user45: yeah a lot of people were vile

user46: if she's ugly she's ugly bro, there isn't much people can do about it

user47: this is why footballers don't want to interact with fans anymore

user48: maybe if people could get their minds out of the gutter. her body was fine. she was an athlete. she was a ufc champion. she didn't have 90-60-90. well neither do most people complaining

user49: I'm so sorry for her, she did not deserve that

user50: so now suddenly everyone loves her and no one thought she was ugly? yall can't hide you hands after throwing the stones

pablogavi posted to his stories:

[replies are deactivated]

[reposted by pinkblaugrananews]

user51: now that I think about it, it's quite iconic that one of the biggest fighters in barça is dating an actual fighter

user52: damn, she's jacked

user53: the lesbians get it Gavi, we get it.

@ nocontxtbarça posted:

liked by user54, pablogavi and 1.436.427 more

nocontxtbarça: streamer ibai llanos says he wants gavi and lorena romero to fight in his event La Velada.

user54: gavi would die

user55: rip gavi

user56: nah mate, we need gavi on one piece for el clásico

user57: flick already said no lmao

user58: would be cool to see tho. like two rabid dogs

pablogavi: me quereis muerto o que 😃💀

[lunaandco]

did it have to be him?

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: emma works as a social media manager for real madrid. her job would be way easier if she didn't fuck barcelona's star boy in her free time

warnings: smut, hate sex, dirty talk, degradation kink, vaginal penetration, use of condoms, madridista ofc (😔)

masterlist // I do not take requests

In a normal match day, after she got home from work, Emma would be rearranging all the pictures and videos she had taken from the game, to post them the day after in the official social media accounts. But today was different. Real Madrid had lost, so she should have less pictures to post, but she wasn't looking through her gallery.

Emma was bent over her desk, her clothes gone and her cheek pressed against the wood, as Gavi fucked her without any semblance of mercy.

Gavi was like a hunting dog. He always smelled the weaknesses in his opponents. Mere hours earlier he was getting under Vinicius' skin with ease, getting him to start blabbering and fighting. Vini was an easy prey, nerves already on fire, Gavi just had to press the right buttons.

Emma sometimes thought that he had done the same with her. He had known, smelled even, her weakness. He saw her as what she was, the most fragile link in Madrid's structure. Her wandering eye, following him when she should have been taking pictures of her own players.

Gavi had known, and he had acted accordingly.

Emma was sure Gavi could find prettier, more convenient girls. Girls that wouldn't enrage his fans, that wouldn't get him in trouble with the club. But she also knew that she had something those girls didn't, the reason he had come back to her.

The power struggle turned him on like nothing else ever could. She could ruin his life, but they both know she would go down with him if she did. Emma was sure that ripping off the free white and gold merch she got from work fueled him with more adrenaline than stripping a random model from an expensive dress ever could.

After the adrenaline high of playing a game like el Clásico, one would thing Gavi would be tame and pliant, but Emma knew better.

They had gotten together after Bellingham's first Clásico. Emma was working overtime in his passenger seat, queueing and programing as many posts as possible, to make sure her absence wasn't noticed. Her club would want to boast the win, and they would not be happy to know their social media manager was not doing her job properly because she was spreading her legs for the enemy.

Emma had been with many men before Gavi, but no one measured up to him, she had decided as she scrambled to recover her clothes, under his careful watch. A part of her wished she could stay a little bit longer with him, but she did not want Ancelotti of all people questioning why she wasn't available during work hours.

For better or for worse, a week after, Gavi got injured and Emma never heard of him again, until today.

Gavi was subbed in for the last minutes of el Clásico, and immediately stole her attention. He was clearly older, even if only a year had passed. His shoulders cut a broader shape, his gaze was hardened. He still got into fights, got his yellow card, but he seemed... more powerful.

And as he passed next to her, to go back to the locker room, Gavi caught her eye, and Emma knew. She knew he would search for her, go back to her studio apartment and continue what they started a year earlier.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think that you're really into being made a bitch by a Barça player," grunted Gavi above her. Emma whined in response. It was humiliating, it was degrading. But it made her wetter.

"Is that all you've got?" she snapped back. "You didn't even play ten minutes, you can't be this tired."

The response was a hard slap on her ass that made her gasp, and the hand pushing her head against the desk tangling on her brown curls and pulling her up, until her back was pressed to his hard chest.

"You don't want to play this game, corazón," he mocked, his voice warm against her ear. But Emma does. She wants Gavi to really let go.

His hand came up to squeeze her breast, as his teeth found the flesh of her neck. It was one of the things Emma loved about Gavi, that he would take her body fully, like it belonged to him. And maybe it did.

Emma moaned loudly, her body twitching and the orgasm approaching. It hit her like a train wreck, and Gavi, the little shit, kept fucking her through it, until she was scratching at his arms.

"Please, stop. Too much—" Ovestimulation was making everything painful, but then Gavi stilled, filling the condom as his muscles hardened under her touch.

"I'm sorry—" he gasped. He seemed genuinely apologetic that he hadn't stopped in time.

"It's fine," she replied, caressing the skin she had scratched. "It's fine."

💙❤️

Afterwards, Gavi led her to her own shower, gently washing the sweat off her body.

"I really wanted to do this last time," he confessed. Emma blushed. "You don't have anywhere else to go this time though."

Emma smiled sleepily.

"Don't you, though? I heard Flick has military rules in place. How did you manage to come here?"

"That is classified, corazón," he joked, kissing her lips softly. "Turn around, I'm gonna wash your hair."

Emma hummed. She really liked this gentle side of Gavi.

💙❤️

"We could do this again sometime," offered Gavi, as he put on his jacket. They had cuddled for as long as they could, but he had to leave at 5 am if he wanted to pretend he had been at the hotel the whole night. "Maybe when neither of us is under the restrictions of our clubs."

Emma thought about it. Vacation time, with Gavi. Soft kisses, warm cuddles and hot sex. She could get used to it. And as far as Madrid never knew, she would be safe.

"I would like that."