#pablo gavi x oc

[universefcb]

PABLO GAVI PLEASEEE 🙏🙏🙏

maybe showering together after a long day with loads of fluff? maybe a bit silly and gavi makes himself a beard or something with shower wash?

anyway love youuu 💋💋💋

↬❥ Foam

Pablo Gavira x Reader!fem

Synopsis: You taking a bath after a tiring day and he being a silly boyfriend.

a/n: I love it when you ask for something! I love you, princess.

REQUESTED

Mentions: @paucubarsisimp

warnings: fluff

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

It had been a long day. One that drained all your energy and left your body begging for rest. You and Gavi finally had a moment of peace, and nothing seemed more tempting than a hot bath together.

The warm water slowly filled the tub, suds gathering on the surface as the scent of lavender soap wafted through the bathroom. You settled against Gavi, your back resting against his chest, feeling the soothing warmth of the water around you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired,” he grumbled, running his wet fingers over his face. “Today was just running, running, running.”

You chuckled softly, tilting your head to look at him. His wet hair stuck to his forehead, and his brown eyes were slightly closed in pure relaxation.

“But was it worth it?” you asked, playing with the foam between your fingers.

“It’s always worth it, even more so if I can relax like that in the end.”

A smile tugged at his lips, but before he could respond, Gavi grabbed a handful of foam and began to spread it across his own face.

“What are you doing?” you asked, arching your eyebrow.

“Shaving,” he replied as if it were obvious.

The foam covered his cheeks, chin, and even a bit of his nose. You held back a laugh as he slid his fingers across his face, as if he were actually shaving an invisible beard.

“You don’t even have a beard, Gavi!”

“But one day I will. And I need to train now, right?”

The laugh escaped before he could stop it, and he opened one eye, pretending to be offended.

“Ah, so you doubt my potential?”

“I just think you look like a juvenile Santa Claus right now.”

He frowned, but then a playful smile appeared on his lips. Without warning, he scooped up more foam and spread it on his face.

“There, now we are an old couple.”

“GAVI!” you protested, laughing, trying to push him away as he sprayed even more foam up your nose.

The bathroom was soon filled with laughter and splashing water. In the end, the tiredness of the day didn't matter. Moments like that were all that mattered.

Taglist: @p4uul0vr @nngkay @meganesanchez @bymerinott @htpssgavi @luvvpedri

[lunaandco]

i heard from a friend of a friend

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: ivet recovers her love for football thanks to some guys at the park. one of them wants to introduce her to a friend of his; or in which ivet meets gavi through a common friend.

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

The park was just two streets away from where Ivet lived. It wasn't the aesthetic and gentrified kind of Barcelona park she had grown up around, but a gray concrete and grafittied place that boys used to skate and play football.

Ivet crossed it every day to go to work, ignoring the itch on her legs to kick the ball every time it flew past her. She had played, once upon a time, with pigtails and her older brother's second hand kits and boots, but that time was long gone. Oscar had grown out of the sport when she was around fourteen, and without him it had not been as fun for her, so she ended up dropping out too.

That didn't mean she didn't miss it, the adrenaline, the power, the skill.

She had cried like a baby when Spain lifted the Women's World Cup, watching how a bunch of girls made a dream that she thought impossible reality; she had gotten drunk with her friends when the men lifted the Eurocup.

"Careful!" a voice called, while she was crossing the park. On pure reflex, Ivet controlled the ball that was hurled at her, quickly stopping the movement. She located the owners quickly, a bunch of guys that were staring at her as if she had grown a second head.

She made the pass, missing the ball the moment it left her feet.

"Woah," the guy that recueved the ball approached her. "Do you play? We're missing one!"

Ivet bit her lower lip. The offer was everything she had wanted to hear, but a bunch of strangers, specially male strangers, made her a little bit nervous. She mentally checked what she was wearing: comfortable sweats and a pair of trainers that, while they weren't ideal, they were good enough.

"Can I play?" she asked, not believing it yet.

"Please," replied the guy. "My name is Guille. This are Rafa. Marcos..." He gave her the names of the seven guys. Ivet replied shyly with hers.

"You play in my team, Javi, you change. We play with our shirts on, they play shirtless."

"Oh, c'mon, why do I have to change?"

"Well, she's not gonna play shirtless, is she?"

Javier could not argue against that logic, and pulled off his shirt.

"Let's fucking go."

Ivet wasn't fourteen anymore. It took her a while to get used to the pace, a bit rusty from the years without playing, but catching up in no time. Football was like riding a bike, in some ways. By the time they all had to go home, Ivet was sweating a big smile stretching her face.

"Damn, girl," Guille patted her back like she was one mkre of the gang. "Come back whenever you want, this was awesome."

Ivet did.

Once she had tasted the adrenaline of football once again, it was like she could not get enough.

"You're from Barcelona, right?" Asked Guille one of those days.

"Yeah, born and rised."

"Why are you here tho? In Sevilla?" Marcos took a swing of his soda can.

"My parents found a better job here."

"Damn. It's funny, you know. We have a friend that had to move to Barna a few years ago," Guille said. Marco stepped on his foot, a wordless way to tell him to shut up. "It's like you're replacing each other."

Ivet laughed it off, and returned to the game with them.

💙❤️

"Hey, where are the others?" Ivet asked Guille as she approached the park, and only him and Marcos were there.

"We are going to play at the sports centre today," explained Guille, a guilty expression on his face. "Our friend, the one from Barcelona is visiting, so we're doing this a little bit more fancy."

"Ah."

Ivet took a step back. It stung a little bit that after half a year of playing with them, she wasnt yet part of the group enough to know about thsese kind of change of plans, but she had never met the friend from Barcelona, so she understood why she hadn't been let on what the plans were about.

One thing she didn't understand was why the friend wanted to play at the sports centre and not the park. Obviously the centre had its advantages, artificial turf, proper goal posts and a big pitch that one could rent privately, but it seemed like a lot of hassle just because.

"But.. I was kind of hoping to introduce you two, today," added Guille. "Maybe you can join us, if y'all vibe nicely."

"Ah?"

"He's picking us up in—"

A car honk interrupted Marcos' explanation. The three of them turned to the expensive looking car by the street.

"Let's go!"

Guille grabbed Ivet by the wrist and pulled her towards the guy that was hopping off the car. He was Ivet's size, with broad shoulders, thick thighs, and a confident strut.

Marcos reached him first, and they melted into a tight hug. Then it was Guille's turn, there were a lot of back pats loving insults.

"Hermano, this is the girl I told you about, Ivet."

"Nice to meet you," she said, examining the boy's face. He was handsome, a boyish smirk that reminded her of her brother in some ways, pointy teeth and a couple of small faint scars peppering his skin.

"Same. I'm Gavi."

Ah. That explained why Guille and the others were so low-key about their friend from Barcelona. He was not only living in the city, he was playing for them in first division.

Luckily for Ivet, she had seen very few matches from the men's side, not enough to get star struck meeting him. She preferred watching Barça Femení games, since they were more affordable and she had not been able to enjoy women's football when she was a kid.

"So, Guille speaks wonders of you. Are you coming to play with us tonight?" asked Gavi, giving her a shirt greeting hug.

"Uhm..." Guille and Marcos had not been very specific about that.

"Yes!" replied Marcos for her.

"Let's go then!" Gavi threw his arm around Guille's shoulder, leading them back to the car.

Ivet stopped right on her tracks.

"Uhm, wait a second. I can't..."

"What?" The three boys turned to her in tandem, as she pulled out her phone. "I need to..." she said absent mindedly, as she quickly texted her location to one of her female friends and her brother. She then walked to the front of the car and snapped a picture of the license plate.

"What on earth are you doing?" Asked Guille.

"Sending my brother the info," she replied, as she finished detailing the plans. "Have your mothers never told you not to go on stranger's cars?"

"Yeah, but we're not strangers, you don't need all that."

"Huh. That is how you get yourself kidnapped, Guille."

Gavi snorted.

"Oh, c'mon, look at me," said Gavi. "I've got like, the worst disguise to commit a crime."

"On the contrary. Who would believe my best friend if she said I was last seen with you, when we have never met before?"

"Damn," admitted Marcos. "That's a good one."

"I know."

"How do I know you're not a crazy fan ready to post everything about me on Instagram?" rebuked Gavi then, but he was smiling widely.

Ivet snorted.

"Same as I know you're not a kidnapper. Leap of faith."

Gavi snickered and opened the passenger door.

"Girls first," he told her, ignoring Guille and Marcos' protests of being relegated to the back seat.

"Thank you," she whispered, even if she would rather sit on the back seat, and be by the margins.

Gavi drove like a madman, toying with the speed limit.

"You're from Barna, no?"

"I was born in Gràcia," she said, holding to the seat as discreetly as she could, her face turning green.

"How does Marta deal with you hanging out with a pretty girl every day?" Asked Gavi then, looking at the rear mirror for a split of a second.

Ivet tensed. She knew that her gender separated from the friend group and jt made her unlikely to be fully considered one of the bros, but the reminder still stung.

"Quite well, hermano. Ivet was the one that helped me ask her out."

"Ah, joder." Gavi was silent for a beat. "All my exs would have insisted I was cheating."

"That is kind of your fault Gavito, you're such a catch you bring the paranoia in everyone," said Marcos. Ivet rolled her eyes, which only Gavi saw. He snickered tongue swiping at his teeth.

"And you? Your boyfriend is fine with all the men you hang out with?"

"I don't have a boyfriend. And if he had a problem, then he would stop being my boyfriend very quickly."

💙❤️

At the sports centre, there were more boys than Ivet knew. Friends and cousins of Gavi that didn't necessarily mingle regularly with Guille and his gang.

Ivet kept close to Guille and Marco, as all the boys went through their greetings. They don't stall too much, quickly arguing the way of making the most balanced team.

"Gavi should play with the girl," said one of the guys Ivet didn't know. "To balance things out..."

Ivet crossed her arms above her chest.

"How is that supposed to balance the team, genius?" she asked, knowing exactly why he had said that. She just wanted to see if he had the balls to admit it to her face.

"Ivet will play for my team," decided Guille, who was in the team against Gavi.

With that issue quickly resolved, Ivet watched the boys organise the teams. She purposely dropped to the background, waiting for the game to start.

Guille told her to take the left wing. Ivet hadn't play such a well structured game in years, but she adapted well to the change. Most of the boys she didn't know had ended up in Gavi's team, so she caught them by surprise, shooting a ball to the post.

Gavi, who had been relegated to goalkeeper in order to maintain the fairness of the game, cursed like a madman.

"Don't let Ivet take the ball," he kept ordering his team. It made Ivet smile as she assisted Guille's first goal.

In the end, Gavi recklessly left the goal to dribble past Guille's entire team to ensure his own victory, to which all the boys complained half-heartedly. They all knew his competitive spirit would flare up sooner or later.

💙❤️

By the tike they were all leaving the sport centre, Ivet approached Guille.

"About the money, what do I owe you guys?" she asked him. Renting a pitch on the centre meant paying quite a bit of money. Marco shrugged.

"Usually Gavi pays for it. He feels guilty that we can't play normally when he's around, so he covers the cost of his... special needs," he explained.

"We tried to pay once and he just invited us for dinner after. He does not like being denied," added Guille.

Ivet bitbher lower lip. She could understand why Gavi would pay for his firmed, but for her?

She then approached him gently. Gavi was hugging one of his cousins goodbye, so she waited at a respectful distance.

"Guille said you were good, but I fear he underrated you," told her Gavi once they were alone. She blushed.

"Thank you. What do I owe you?"

"I'm sorry?"

Ivet explained her reasoning, to which Gavi only shook his head.

"No, no, you're my friend now," he said, dropping his arm around her shoulder.

"But..."

"Unless you want to be my date. I would like that very much, there's this new coffee shop my sister says I have to try?"

"What?" Ivet stopped on her tracks, making Gavi turn to look at her directly.

"I'm asking you on a date, Ivet. You're supposed to say yes."

Ivet hesitated a bit.

"Yes?"

[wagconts]

Chef Gavi | Pablo Gavi

summary :: Where you and Pablo record a video for YouTube making a chocolate cake.

warnings :: none...!

word count :: 0.790k

Your YouTube channel was growing rapidly, and interacting with your fans was one of your favorite things. Recently, a specific request had been popping up in the comments: “Do a cooking video with Gavi!” or “Gavi in the kitchen, please, we want to see you two together!” You loved the idea, but your excitement really kicked in when your boyfriend himself asked to join one of your videos.

— So, love, when are we making that chocolate cake? — he asked, a mischievous smile on his face as you both sat on the couch.

— Do you really want to join? Because I don’t want anyone complaining if you mess everything up. — you teased.

— Me? Mess up? You’ll see, I’m going to be the star chef of this video! — he replied confidently.

It was a sunny afternoon, and you’d carefully set up the kitchen for the shoot. Gavi walked into the room wearing an apron that read "Chef Gavi" and one of those iconic chef hats. Just looking at him, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

— What’s so funny? I’m in character! — he said, striking a dramatic pose.

— Alright, Chef Gavi. Let’s see if your talents go beyond the football field.

You adjusted the camera and began the video introduction:

— Hi, everyone! Today, we have a very special guest, someone many of you might know — You glanced at Gavi, who pretended to be distracted. — He’s amazing on the football field, but can he handle the kitchen? Let’s find out!

You both decided to make a simple chocolate cake, but things didn’t go quite as planned. While you explained the ingredients, Gavi decided to take matters into his own hands.

— Love, why are you cracking the egg like that? It’s going to spill everywhere! — you warned, already predicting the disaster.

— I saw a chef do it like this; it looks more professional. — And, of course, he ended up cracking an egg on the counter.

You tried to stifle your laughter as you cleaned up the mess. — Congratulations, Chef Gavi. First attempt, and we’re already in cleanup mode.

Next came the sugar. Distracted, Gavi poured almost twice the amount needed.

— Pablo! What are you doing? This is going to turn into a sugar brick!

— What? You said a full cup. Isn’t this full? — he asked, holding up a giant mug.

— Sweetheart, there’s a difference between a cup and a mug, just so you know.

— Well, you didn’t tell me that. — he shot back, heading to the cabinet to look for a proper measuring cup. — Is this it?

He held up a small white cup, and you nodded. With a proud grin, he returned to the counter.

When it was time to mix the batter, Gavi insisted on using the electric mixer, even though you explained the batter was light enough to do by hand. The real issue came when he forgot to turn off the mixer before lifting it out of the bowl. Chocolate splattered everywhere: on the counter, the camera, his apron… and even on your face.

— Look at what you’ve done! — you exclaimed, laughing as you tried to wipe your face. —Don’t forget to turn it off next time!

He looked at you with a sheepish smile. —Everything’s under control, Chef! Just trust me.

Despite all the mishaps, the batter finally made it into the oven. You and Gavi even had fun drawing little chocolate swirls on the top before baking it. While waiting, Gavi turned to you with a smug grin.

— See? I told you it would work out. It was just a little mess along the way.

— A little mess? This counter looks like a battlefield! — you replied, pointing to the chaos around you.

When the timer went off, you both pulled out a perfectly baked cake. Decorating the cake was a team effort, with Gavi spreading the frosting while you added sprinkles and other toppings.

— And here it is, everyone: the chocolate cake by Chef Gavi and Chef [Your Name]! — you said to the camera.

After wrapping up the recording, you both sat at the table to taste the cake. Gavi cut a slice and offered it to you, pretending to be overly fancy.

— I’ll admit, it’s good. But I think most of the effort was mine. — he joked.

— Sure, sure. Next time, we’ll see if you can do it on your own, Chef Gavi.

You both laughed, and the video ended up becoming one of the most-watched on your channel, with fans loving every moment of the chaos and your undeniable chemistry.

[the-offside-rule]

Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - Snap!

Requested: yes, by this ask

Prompt: 8 - WAG posting for photos

The WAG au Matserlist ☆

As Y/N and Pablo Gavi strolled toward the stadium entrance, they were deep in discussion about dinner plans. Y/N smiled, "How about that new tapas place by the beach? Or, we could celebrate properly if we win today." Pablo grinned. "Only if you score. Then I’m buying everything." Their usual pre-match moment was interrupted as a group of photographers spotted them. "Photos, please! Just a few of you together!" A photographer called. Y/N and Pablo shared a look and shrugged, stepping in closer for a few photos. They posed together, hands intertwined, radiating an effortless chemistry that cameras couldn’t resist capturing.

After a few shots, the photographers called out, "Pablo, a few solo shots! You’re the new 'it WAG' now!" Pablo laughed, playfully posing alone and proudly showing off the back of his jersey where Y/n’s name and number were displayed. The gesture wasn’t lost on the photographers or fans, who were already enamored with his devotion. Before Y/n slipped inside to prepare, she leaned in, giving him a quick kiss. "See you after." She murmured.

In the dressing room, her teammate Berta noticed her flushed cheeks and raised an eyebrow. "Why do you look like you just stepped out of a rom-com?" Y/n sighed, unable to hide her smile. "Just feeling lucky, you know? Pablo is just…something else." Berta laughed, nodding in agreement. "I feel the same about Fermín. We’ve got the best cheerleaders." With a shared smile, they turned their attention back to the game ahead, knowing their biggest fans would be in the stands cheering them on.

[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.

[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.

[dearstvckyx]

“Lookin' at you got me thinkin' nonsense.” - PG6

summary: After a second Barça game, Alexia unexpectedly meets Gavi in the players’ lounge. A brief exchange of smiles and words leaves them both captivated, replaying the moment long after the night ends.

pairing: oc! Alexia x Pablo Gavi (ft. oc! Madison)

. 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . . 　⁺ 　 .

Weeks had passed since Alexia’s first trip to Camp Nou, but the memory of the boy in the white jacket lingered in her mind. Madison, of course, hadn’t let her live it down. “You’re not even a real fan, and somehow you’re having a rom-com moment with one of the players,” she teased constantly.

Alexia rolled her eyes every time, but secretly, she’d replayed that fleeting moment with Gavi a hundred times in her head. Something about the way he’d smiled at her stayed with her.

Madison finally convinced Alexia to come to another game. “You can’t be a one-and-done kind of fan,” Madison insisted. “Plus, you owe me for making you look good on Instagram with that last post.”

“Fine,” Alexia relented, trying not to seem too eager. She even wore a borrowed Barça jersey and learned a couple of chants to impress Madison.

As they made their way to the stadium, Alexia felt her heart race—not for the game itself, but for the slim chance she might see him again. She wasn’t even sure what she’d say or do if it happened. Smile? Wave? Pretend she didn’t care?

The match was as electric as the first one. Alexia found herself getting into it more this time, cheering loudly alongside Madison and feeling the rush of the crowd. But her eyes kept drifting to the players, scanning for Gavi.

After the game, Madison had another surprise. “So, don’t freak out,” she said, grinning mischievously, “but I managed to get us into the players’ lounge for a meet-and-greet.”

“Wait, WHAT?” Alexia’s stomach flipped.

“Don’t thank me yet. It’s crowded, and there’s no guarantee you’ll even get near him. But, you know, miracles happen.”

The players’ lounge was buzzing with fans, all clamoring for autographs and pictures. Alexia followed Madison nervously, her eyes darting around the room. Then, she saw him.

Gavi stood near a table, talking with a staff member. He was dressed casually this time, in a black hoodie and jeans, but he was unmistakable. Alexia froze as he turned slightly, scanning the room—and their eyes met again.

For a moment, it was like the chaos around them disappeared. Alexia felt her pulse quicken as Gavi’s lips curved into the same small, genuine smile he’d given her weeks ago.

Madison nudged her hard. “Go talk to him!”

“I can’t just—”

Before Alexia could finish, Gavi began walking toward them.

“Hola,” he said, his voice warm and his accent thick. His gaze didn’t waver from hers. “You were at the last game, no?”

Alexia blinked, struggling to believe he’d noticed her before. “Uh, yeah. My first game, actually.”

Gavi’s smile widened. “And? What did you think?”

“It was amazing,” she managed, returning his smile. “Though I think Madison might be the bigger fan.” Nodding to the blonde next to her.

“True,” Madison interjected, clearly loving every second of this. “But I think Alexia’s catching on. She even learned some chants this time.”

Gavi chuckled, his attention still fixed on Alexia. “Good. Maybe you’ll come to more games, then?”

“I think I might,” she said softly, feeling her cheeks heat up.

“Perfect,” Gavi said. He glanced over as a staff member called him back but hesitated before leaving. “It was nice meeting you, Alexia.”

Her heart nearly stopped. “How did you know my name?”

He pointed at her Camp Nou ticket, which she had clipped onto a lanyard around her neck.

“Right,” she said, laughing nervously.

“Maybe I’ll see you again soon,” Gavi added before walking away, glancing back one last time with a smile.

. 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . . 　⁺ 　 .

That night, Alexia lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying the moment over and over. She felt like she was in a dream.

Meanwhile, Gavi sat in the back of the team bus once again, headphones around his neck but no music. Instead, he stared out the window, replaying the way her smile had lit up when he spoke to her.

For the first time in a long time, someone outside of football had captured his attention. And he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

. 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ⁺ 　 . . 　⁺ 　 .

Part 3??

Inspired By:

Read part one here

[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

[universefcb]

Pablo gavi smut

↬❥ Jealousy

Pablo Gavi x Reader!fem

Synopsis: You have a hidden relationship, but he is very jealous. And Pedri is very close to you lately.

a/n: I don't know how to write obscenity, sorry😩

REQUESTED

warnings: smut, +18

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

Her relationship with Gavi was an absolute secret. Your father was close friends with his father, and you both knew that if they found out, everything would get complicated. But that didn't stop them from meeting in secret whenever they could.

However, lately, Gavi had been acting strange. Quieter, more tense... and you knew exactly why: Pedri.

In the last few days, Pedri seemed to always be around you, starting conversations, joking around, and even casually putting his hand on your waist. You didn't see any harm in it, but Gavi... oh, he did.

So that night, when you and Gavi finally got some alone time in his apartment, he couldn't hold back his irritation.

“Do you like it when he touches you?” Gavi asked, his voice thick with jealousy as he stared at you closely, his brown eyes shining with intensity.

“What? Of course not, Gavi. He’s just my friend.”

“Then why do you let him get so close?” He took a step forward, cornering you against the wall.

“You’re exaggerating…”

“Am I?” He arched an eyebrow, sliding his fingers down her arm, his touch burning. “Then why do I get so angry when I see him touching you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you didn't have time. Gavi grabbed you by the waist and kissed you hard, possessive, showing you exactly who was the only one who could have you like that.

He lifted you up with one hand, your legs wrapping around his waist. Gavi walked calmly to the mattress, laying you both down on it.

“I’ll show you,” he whispered against her lips, his breath hot and quick. “I’ll remind you who you belong to.”

The room was silent, except for the sound of your heavy breathing and the rustling of the sheets beneath you. The scent of burning candles mixed with Pablo's woody perfume, creating a thick atmosphere, thick with desire.

You were completely at his mercy, your body glued to the mattress as he hovered over you, one hand holding your wrist above your head and the other exploring your skin with slow, torturous touches.

“You like testing my patience, don’t you, abeja?” His voice was a husky growl, his lips hovering millimeters from hers. (bee)

You could feel his warm breath against your mouth, but he refused to kiss you again. He wanted you to beg.

Your body was already on fire just from the way he looked at you — his dark eyes filled with something predatory, his muscles tense, as if he was holding himself back from devouring you all at once.

“Speak, love. Who makes you feel this way?” His fingers trailed down the curve of her hip, tracing slow, teasing circles.

You gasped, nails digging into the sheets.

" You…"

He smiled, satisfied.

“That’s it, good girl.”

The way he said that sent a shiver down your spine. Then, without warning, he slid his fingers inside your panties, touching exactly where you wanted.

You gasped, body automatically arching into his touch.

“So wet… all this just because I got jealous, princesa?” Pablo murmured against the skin of her neck, his teeth grazing there before taking another bite. (princes)

“Pablo…” Your moan came out broken as he moved his fingers inside you, slowly, exploring every inch.

He watched your every reaction, his dark eyes fixed on yours as his movements increased in intensity. His thumb found your most sensitive spot, and you moaned loudly, your legs shaking.

“Look at me.” He demanded, his voice husky and full of possession.

You opened your eyes, meeting his hungry gaze.

“I want to see you break for me. I want to hear you say my name as you cum on my fingers.”

The pressure inside you was building too quickly. You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as your hips moved against his hand, seeking more.

“That’s it, love… show me who makes you feel this way.””

With a few more precise movements, the tension in her belly exploded. Her body arched against his, his name escaping in a loud, hoarse moan.

But Gavi didn't stop.

“Do you think we’re done?” He whispered against her ear, the wicked smile taking over his lips.

His eyes gleamed with something dangerous—and delicious.

Her legs, which were wrapped around his waist, pulled him closer, and felt the hardness of his body pressing against her warm, sensitive skin. Her hands slid down his defined chest, feeling every tense muscle beneath her fingers.

Pablo cupped her chin, tilting her face upwards, his thumb tracing her bottom lip before tugging it lightly.

“Look at me.” His voice was a low, husky growl, filled with authority.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze that seemed to burn right through you.

“I want you to remember who you belong to.”

Before you could respond, he slowly slid inside you, eliciting a loud moan from your lips. Your body arched against his, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as he filled every inch of you, marking you from the inside out.

Pablo’s husky moans filled the room as he began to move, slow at first, torturous, wanting you to feel every inch of him.

“so perfect for me…” He murmured against her neck, his warm lips tracing soft, teasing bites as his hips moved in a tantalizing rhythm.

You gripped the sheets tightly, your body already sensitive from the previous pleasure, but the way he took you made every inch of you beg for more.

“Faster, Gavi…” You gasped, legs tightening around him.

He smiled against her skin, satisfied with her request, and then held her waist, increasing the pace. His movements became more intense, stronger, making waves of pleasure spread through her body with each thrust.

The sound of their bodies colliding echoed through the room, along with their broken moans. You clung to him, feeling the heat inside you grow rapidly, the pressure building.

“Do you like this, love? Knowing that I’m the only one who can make you feel like this?” He asked, his voice broken, his dark eyes shining with desire.

“Yes… just you.” You moaned, head falling back as he tilted his hips at the perfect angle, hitting that sensitive spot inside you.

Pablo cupped her face, forcing their eyes to meet.

“I don’t want you to look at anyone else the way you looked at him today. You’re mine.”

His words pushed you even further over the edge, the possessive tone making your body respond instantly. You moaned loudly, pleasure consuming you, legs shaking around him as your orgasm hit you hard.

He grunted, feeling you tighten around him, and his rhythm became erratic. He gripped your waist tightly, burying himself deep before coming undone inside you, his breathing heavy against your neck.

The room was silent for a few seconds, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the air.

Pablo slid to the side, pulling you against his chest, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” He murmured, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

Her body was still trembling from the pleasure, but upon hearing his words, a shiver ran down her spine.

“I love you too, my player.”

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @p4uul0vr @nngkay @meganesanchez @bymerinott @htpssgavi @luvvpedri

[lunaandco]

hide and seek

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: roxy hides a football star from some fans that were overwhelming him.

warnings: panic attack

taglist: @htpssgavi; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

Roxy loved her job. She loved music, she loved vinyls and she loved talking to people as passionate as her. The music store was near a crowded street of Barcelona, which meant that they had a decent influx of clients without the small local getting overcrowded.

She had found the job to be able to earn some money during her Erasmus year in Barcelona, before she had to return to London to finish her musicology degree. Roxy knew that her knowledge and language skills were the reason she got the job in such a gentrified city.

It was a slow hour when it happened. A boy came rushing into the store, big eyes wide open and breathing uneven.

"Can you hide me somewhere?" He asked with a thick accent. It took Roxy a few seconds to decipher what he was saying, the same time it took her to notice that his face was not only familiar, she had a name to link to it.

And that was enough clue as to what was going on.

"There's space beneath the counter," she blurted, taking a step back and pointing to the ground.

The boy did not hesitate, rushing to kneel and then sit in the place she had pointed out. And it was just in time, because a group of men around 25 to 30 years burst in next, and Roxy had a feeling they were not searching for any specific vinyl.

"Hi, how can I—" she began but they cut her off.

"Have you seen Gavi?"

"Excuse me?" She felt the boy beneath the counter, Gavi, hold on to her ankle.

"Gavi, the footballer? From Barcelona?" Insisted one of them. She did not like the tone one of the men was using with her.

"Yes, yes. But. why are you asking about him?"

"We're pretty sure we saw him come in here." The grip on her ankle tightened. Roxy dropped her hand beneath the counter to tangle her fingers on his hair in what she hoped would be a reassuring manner. Gavi pressed his forehead against her thigh.

"You're the first to show up in a while, I'm sorry. We've been empty for like, an hour," she tried to remain polite and not look down to see how Gavi was doing. That could give them away.

"Are you sure he's not here?" They insisted. "He could be hiding."

One of the guys was checking through the shelves, in case Gavi was over there. Roxy licked her lips annoyed, and grabbed the box of La Liga surprise cards.

"We don't sell footballers. We sell vinyls. If you want Gavi, buy one of these. Maybe you'll get his card." She slammed the box on the counter, eyes blazing.

"Damn, there is no need to be rude."

"You started it."

"Alright, we're sorry, whatever."

"Let's go, lads, maybe he's still in the street."

The men finally left. Roxy waited for a few minutes more, checking that they wouldn't come back.

"They're gone," she muttered, dropping to her knees in front of Gavi. He looked pale and his breathing was shallow. His hands were clammy and his skin had a thin layer of sweat. "Are you okay?"

"Thank you," he mustered. "Thank you."

"It's okay. They seemed quite abrasive. They scared me too." It wasn't hard to figure out what happened, but Gavi seemed shaken still. Roxy recognised the symptoms of a panic attack, from all the times she had witnessed her sister have their own. "Breathe with me, okay?"

Roxy took a deep breath, and watched as Gavi copied her. She left the air go, and so did he. They remained like that for a while, Gavi regaining his breathing and claiming down little by little.

"I'm sorry," he said then. "I usually... I can deal with it pretty well, you know? I'm used to it." Roxy sat next to him, their shoulders touching. "But there were so many of them today... and they were so loud and all of them wanted ot touch me and talk to me at the same time and I..."

Gavi covered his face with his hands.

"I could see. I wanted to kick them out the second they started talking. If they were that rude to me, I don't want to imagine how they were with you," she said, seeing how his shoulders relaxed at the understanding.

"Thank you," he said again. "And I'm sorry for getting you into this mess."

"It's okay," Roxy repeated. "I'd rather have you here than having a panic attack out there without help. I know it can be scary."

She kissed his temple and stood up. offering a hand for him to do the same. Gavi did, and they stood in front of each other for a moment, hands still joined. Roxy wondered what he was seeing then. A girl with her hair in a messy bun, dark skin and thick lips, plain clothes.

She gulped when she noticed how his big brown eyes mapped out her face.

"Thank you," insisted Gavi, squeezing her hand and kissing her temple too, before exiting the counter to make a quick run for his home.

"It's nothing, she told him with a smile.

And if he became a recurring client at the store, that was their business only.

[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.”

[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!