Stop My Blind Ass Confused My Alt And Your Acc And I Was Like "SAIRA DIDN'T UPLOAD IN 8 WEEKS?" Then

where are the joao felix fics at bc im only on this app for fics and no one is making them , that’s all i want for christmas gang 😔

kenan yildiz fic?🫶🏼 part 2 of the recent mbyy

❦ - cut my hair.

summary:: your boyfriend is so distant to the point you’re convinced he doesn’t care

warnings:: NO HAPPY ENDING.

writers note:: i’m sorry for disappearing but mocks are the death of me! anyways sorry this took so long 😔😔.

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

You wish he would just say it.

That he doesn’t care. That this never meant anything. That you could leave and he wouldn’t even blink.

Because maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much.

Instead, Kenan just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you with that same unreadable expression. Like he knows what you’re thinking. Like he knows you’re trying to convince yourself that walking away is the right thing to do.

Maybe it is.

‘I can’t keep doing this,’ you say, voice quieter than you want it to be.

Kenan exhales, running a hand through his hair. ‘So don’t.’

Your stomach twists. That’s it? No argument, no apologies, just those two words, thrown out like they don’t matter. Like you don’t matter.

You shake your head, forcing a bitter laugh. ‘You make it look so easy.’

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t say anything.

And maybe that’s the real problem.

Because you’ve spent so much time trying to read between the lines, waiting for something, anything, to prove that he feels this the way you do. But all you ever get is silence.

You take a shaky breath. ‘I changed for you, you know. Cut off pieces of myself just to fit into whatever space you had left.’

Kenan flinches. It’s subtle, barely there, but you catch it.

For the first time, you wonder if maybe he does care. If maybe this is hard for him, too. But even if it is, it’s not enough.

It never is.

So you force yourself to step back, ignoring the way your chest aches. ‘I won’t do it anymore.’

He stays quiet.

And this time, you don’t wait for an answer. You turn and leave, without looking back.

joao felix getting w neymars ex is the weirdest link up ever?? bro i’d never expect joao to b w sm1 that neymar got with in 2014.. as long as he’s happy!! gabriella lenzi, you better not be the new magui

family meeting

credits to the owner!

summary: it was love at first sight

warnings: none

pairing: pablo gavi x fem!reader

request: hi can you write something about pablo gavi? like his family has a family gathering and his cousin brings her best friend and he falls in love (like head-over-heals madly in love) and his behavior just changes from shy to super confident around her and everyone makes fun of him afterwards

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE ❤️🎄🫶🏻🎀

taglist: @paucubarsisimp, @barcapix, @joaosnovia

requests are open!

masterlist

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, and Gavi's family had gathered at his family home for one of their usual family gatherings, enjoying the warm holiday sunshine. It was an intimate gathering, just a warm lunch, loud conversations and laughter echoing throughout the property. But for Pablo, it was a rare opportunity, because between his busy football schedule and his dedication to the sport, these family gatherings became something he looked forward to, even if he was usually the quiet one, sitting on the sidelines.

Pablo was shy, especially around people he didn't know well. His family understood this, so they never pushed him too hard to be in the spotlight. As usual, he was quiet and observant, sticking to his comfort zone and talking to close relatives. But today was different.

His cousin Blanca had insisted that she would bring a friend with her today - someone Pablo had never met before. However, Blanca mentioned her in passing many times and that he would definitely like her.

That girl was you, you gladly accepted your friend's invitation, having nothing better to do, and her parents liked you very much, so you went with them.

The moment you arrived, Pablo felt something change. You stood in the doorway with Blanca, laughing at something that had just happened on the way. Your long, shiny hair flowed and fell freely around your shoulders. Your bright, expressive eyes scanned your surroundings and your infectious smile seemed to light up the entire room. You greeted his family members, being so casual.

You were confident, funny, and effortlessly charming. The moment Pablo saw you, his heart started beating faster. He found himself staring at you. He was surprised by how beautiful you were, not only physically, but also how you made everything around you seem brighter.

You weren't like the other girls Pablo had met. There was something about your presence, the way you moved with ease and grace, that suddenly made him realize how nervous he was. He wasn't even sure why he was so drawn to you, he couldn't even take his eyes off you.

"Hola Pablo!" Blanca greeted him with a wave.

Pablo blinked, suddenly realizing that his cousin and you were looking straight at him. He waved to you shyly, his heart racing. "Hola" he managed to say, his voice a little too quiet for his liking.

You smiled warmly at his shyness. “Hola, nice to meet you! I've heard so much about you” you said, giggling lightly, but your tone was friendly and casual.

The words sent a wave of heat through Pablo's chest. He tried to find something to say in response, but he froze. For the first time, words failed him.

Blanca immediately noticed his awkwardness. "Come on, Pablo, stop being so shy. We're all family here!" she shouted and you just giggled.

Pablo laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes, sorry. I'm just a little tired from training earlier" he explained.

"But it's the holidays" Blanca frowned, looking at her cousin.

"I did the training on my own" he explained and she nodded, looking at him slightly suspiciously.

But you didn't let yourself be discouraged. “I understand that” you said with a smile that made Pablo's heart skip a beat. “I play a bit of football myself, so I know how exhausting it can be” you confessed reassuringly, winking at him before going to greet the others.

From that moment on, everything seemed to change. Every time you looked at him, Pablo felt a surge of confidence he didn't know he had. It was as if something clicked inside him. He wasn't the same shy guy anymore. With each passing minute, he found himself speaking more freely, laughing more easily. As they sat down to eat, he joked with the others, even teasing Blanca, who seemed a little surprised at how at ease she felt now. She didn't recognize her cousin.

Pablo had always been reserved, but with you it was different. He wasn't just shy Pablo anymore, he found himself leaning forward during conversations, maintaining eye contact and participating in jokes. It was like you discovered a new side to him - one that wasn't afraid to step into the spotlight. You made him feel seen in a way no one else had ever done before.

Gavi became overly attentive, offering to help you with anything, asking if you needed anything, offering you drinks, sitting next to you. His family noticed the change in him - the quiet, shy Pablo was now the most talkative and outgoing person in the room, especially in your presence.

He even dared to talk to you to get to know you better, but the tremble in his voice betrayed how nervous he felt around you. You smiled at him and then started a conversation about football, and after a while the boy relaxed and started asking you about it, which you didn't complain about at all, you liked it.

Then, for the rest of the afternoon, Pablo couldn't help but steal glances at you. Every time your eyes met, he felt a spark in his chest and so did you, feeling yourself blush slightly as you realized that Pablo had been paying attention to you the whole time.

There was no hiding the fact that your friend's cousin was a handsome guy, very handsome indeed. You've seen him many times on TV, Instagram or TikTok and have always admired his flawless appearance. He was definitely your type, you liked him a lot, but you didn't want to do anything against your friend.

However, every time you met his eyes, you smiled widely at him, not knowing that it was like a wave of warmth that washed over him. He didn't want this day to end. He wanted to keep talking to you, laughing, admiring you, feeling the strange, thrilling excitement of being in your presence.

You didn't realize how much you inhabited his head. The rest of his family also noticed his change. His cousins exchanged knowing glances with each other, and Aurora even nudged him playfully.

"Looks like someone's in love here" Aurora whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, smiling from ear to ear as the others laughed.

Pablo's face turned red and he immediately tried to turn away. "Shut up" he muttered, looking away, but it was too late. The teasing had already begun.

"Oh, look at him" his Uncle Juan said, smiling. "He was so shy at first, but now he's the life of the party. Who's the lucky one, huh?” he laughed.

The teasing continued and soon everyone was making fun of him for his sudden burst of confidence, even his parents!

Everyone was laughing, but there was warmth in it - no one was cruelly mocking him, they were just amused at how his behavior had changed so suddenly, and it was all thanks to you. Pablo took all the jokes and even started joking along with them, admitting that he was madly in love with you. The teasing doesn't bother him anymore because he knows he's on the right track. His self-confidence increases as he realizes that being himself around you feels incredibly natural, and he wasn't previously aware of how much he needed it.

Blanca also noticed her cousin's change, so she walked up to him shaking her head, "Wow, Pablo, I think you've become a completely different person since Y/N showed up, huh?" she said half jokingly, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Pablo just laughed nervously, trying to stay calm, but inside his mind was racing. Did you feel the same? Did he really fall in love with you that quickly? He had no idea, but he couldn't stop his heart from beating faster when you laughed or when your hands brushed against each other as you reached for the same dish.

The little moments you shared between you made his heart swell. To him, you had a magical aura around you that attracted him like a magnet. When he looked at you in full sunlight, he sighed silently, unable to look at you. He thought you looked absolutely beautiful that day, wearing plain denim shorts and a pink, square-neck, short-sleeved blouse.

He felt that you had won his heart that day, without any real effort, and he couldn't ignore it. Because you noticed him in a way no one else had before. You looked at him as a normal person, not as a famous footballer who plays for a top club. You saw him as Pablo, not Gavi, and he appreciated that.

As the evening drew to a close and the last members of the family gathered their things to leave, Pablo stopped at the door, his heart still beating like crazy after everything that had happened. The teasing, the laughter, the way you made him feel like more than just the shy, quiet kid in the room, it all seemed a blur. He couldn't shake the warmth in his chest every time you smiled at him.

He only just realized it now, but he was really starting to care about you in a way that left him breathless.

You stood by the door, talking to Blanca as the last few guests said their goodbyes. Pablo watched you from the corner of the room, his mind still taking in how natural everything seemed. The confidence he found next to you today was unlike anything he had ever experienced, even on the pitch. It was as if in just a few hours he had become a different person, a person who could laugh freely, tell jokes and hold his own in conversation. It's all thanks to you. He never thought he would ever feel this way.

Blanca looked over her shoulder and caught Pablo's eye. She raised an eyebrow, smiling at her cousin. "Will you say goodbye?" she asked, her voice teasing but quiet enough for only Pablo to hear.

Pablo's heart jumped into his throat. He stood there, deep in thought, not even realizing that it was time for everyone to leave. He shifted nervously, suddenly unsure how to act. Is it just a fleeting moment? Did he really have a chance with you? Could he somehow make his feelings known without sounding completely ridiculous?

Before he could talk himself out of it, he took a step forward, his feet moving on their own. His palms were sweaty and his heart was pounding hard in his chest, but he couldn't let this opportunity slip away. He had to say something. Anything.

Blanca walked away, leaving the two of you alone, and you turned to face him as he approached, your warm smile lighting up your face when you saw him. “Hola Pablo” you said, your voice as nice as ever, it warmed his heart. “Today was really nice. Thanks for meeting” you announced.

Pablo took his breath away for a moment. He could barely think clearly, but he forced himself to speak. "Yes...yes, of course. I had a great time too. I...I mean, honestly, I don't remember the last time I had this much fun" he chuckled awkwardly, feeling his face getting hot.

Your smile widened and for a split second, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared. It was just the two of you in that quiet moment, and Pablo felt a surge of boldness. "Would you like to... go out sometime? Just the two of us?" his voice cracked slightly and he cursed himself for sounding so nervous before running his fingers through his hair.

Your gaze softened, and for a moment, Pablo wasn't sure what to expect. Did he say something bad? Is that too fast? But then your lips curved into a soft smile and his heart beat even faster.

“Yes, I would like to” you said in a warm and sincere voice. “I really would like to” you assured him, giggling slightly at his nervous attitude, although you were also nervous inside, even more than he was, but you didn't show it.

Relief washed over Pablo like a wave, but he didn't know what to do with the newfound confidence that washed over him. He cleared his throat, trying to calm down. “Okay, cool. I'll text you” he choked out, smiling awkwardly but realizing something. “Um, Y/N…” he turned to you awkwardly, and you signaled him that you were listening. “I can get your number?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

You laughed quietly. “Yeah, sure” you said, scanning his face and a pleasant shiver ran down his spine.

He took the phone out of his pocket slightly clumsily, feeling how sweaty his hands were and nervously looking for the phone icon so you could add your number.

Once you handed it to him, he smiled gratefully, taking a deeper breath. "Thank you, I'll write to you" he said, looking down at the floor because he couldn't stand the intensity of your gaze any longer, and crimson shades took over his cheeks.

“Alright” you said, nodding. “I'll be waiting” you added more quietly, and Pablo looked back at your bright eyes, which sparkles danced in them. There was something playful and teasing in your tone of voice that made Pablo's pulse quicken.

As you turned to leave, Pablo instinctively took a step forward, reaching for the door. You both reached for the doorknob at the same time, and for a brief moment your fingers brushed against each other, sending sparks throughout your bodies. It was like an electric shock. Pablo froze, his heart pounding in his chest.

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with something he couldn't quite place. “It must be fate” you joked quietly, your voice playful as your fingers lingered for more than a moment.

Pablo swallowed, suddenly feeling a wave of courage he didn't know he had. "Yes" he whispered in a low voice. "I guess so" he added, chuckling nervously.

“See you later, Pablo” you said with a smile, walking slowly out the door.

“See you later, Y/N” he said to you, returning your smile.

You waved him away, joining Blanca and her parents, to which he, and others, waved back.

"Hopefully soon" he said to himself, then leaned against the doorframe.

The family chatter quieted down and Pablo stood there, watching you walk down the street with Blanca and her parents. His heart was still pounding, but he felt different now. Stronger. More alive.

Once he closed the door, he leaned against it, closed his eyes, and a smile spread across his face. Teasing, joking - it didn't matter. What mattered was that you saw him, really saw him, in a way no one else did.

For the first time, Pablo realized that his life would not always revolve around football. Maybe it was moments like this - moments where someone made him feel like he was enough. And as he stood there, replaying the scene from earlier in his mind over and over again, he knew one thing for sure - he couldn't wait to see where this new chapter with you would take him.

if you like this, please like, reblog or comment 🫶🏻

Hiii!! I've been thinking about this for a while, and I feel like you're the best person to write it. Something where the reader and Kenan are getting involved, spending time together, but no one knows. They don’t follow each other on Instagram and try not to like each other’s posts so no one gets suspicious. She told him it would be the best way to avoid gossip since she’s the daughter of a famous retired football player and wants to keep things low-key. But after a night together, Kenan tells her he's tired of hiding, that he wants her at his games, and that he doesn't care about all that. Still, she keeps avoiding it. There's an important match in two days, and he really wants her to be there. Then, out of nowhere, her dad decides to visit and takes the chance to watch the game. She texts Kenan, telling him that his wish is coming true—she’ll be there, and no one will suspect anything. The game is amazing, and she ends up appearing on the big screen next to her father. Those images start circulating on football pages because everyone is fascinated by how stunning the ex-player’s daughter is. This brings a lot of attention to her, and suddenly, some bolder footballers start following her. Kenan does not like that…

I feel like there could be more to this, but I can’t think of an ending. I know you can turn this into gold!

❦ - hidden in plain sight.

summary:: what the req says + i honestly wouldn’t be able to tell u bc i didn’t proofread this and i wrote it like last week (idek if this even follows the req but im posting this otw to school?)

warnings:: uhhh none

writers note:: RIGHT so i think im people favourite kenan writer bc the reqs just keep coming (i love you guys pls don’t ever stop my cuties!) anyways enjoy 💔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb ; lmk if you wanna be added or removed!

kenan leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching as you slip one of his hoodies over your bare shoulders. it’s too big, the sleeves hanging past your fingertips, but you wear it anyway. you always do. the early morning light filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow on your skin, making the moment feel softer than it really is.

you’ve spent the night together, again, but as always, you’ll be gone before the world wakes up. it’s your unspoken rule.

but something feels different this morning. there’s a weight in the air, something unspoken lingering between you. you can feel kenan’s eyes on you as you tie your hair into a loose ponytail, as you reach for your bag. normally, he lets you go without a fight. normally, he kisses you once more, watches you walk out the door, and waits for the next time.

but today, he doesn’t just let it go.

‘you really think this is still working?’ his voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it.

you pause, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. ‘what do you mean?’

‘this. us. hiding like this.’

you turn to look at him, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes, frustration, longing, something deeper than either of you have ever acknowledged out loud.

he steps forward, his hands slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. ‘i want you at my games. i want to see you in the stands, wearing my jersey, cheering for me. i want to go out with you without having to think twice about who’s watching.’ his fingers tighten just slightly, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. ‘and i don't care who knows.’

your heart clenches, but you force yourself to shake your head. ‘kenan… you know why we do this. the second people find out, it won’t be about us anymore. it’ll be about my dad, about gossip, about every little thing i do. and then there’s your career-‘

‘my career?’ he scoffs, his jaw clenching. ‘you think i give a damn about what people say? i want you. that’s it.’

you look up at him, searching his face for something, understanding, patience, anything to make this easier. but all you see is frustration and something deeper, something that scares you.

‘kenan…’ your voice is soft, uncertain.

‘no. i’m tired of this, babe.’ his hands tighten on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away just like every other morning. ‘i want you there. i want you to be able to post a picture of us without thinking twice. i want to hold your hand in public without looking over my shoulder.’

you want that too. god, you do. but it’s not that simple. it’s never been that simple.

‘please,’ he says, voice lower now. ‘come to my game.’

you don’t answer. you just press a kiss to his jaw and step back, reaching for your bag. ‘i’ll see you later, kenan.’

he watches as you leave, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists like he’s fighting the urge to chase after you. but he doesn’t. he never does.

two days later.

you’ve been avoiding the topic. every time your phone lights up with kenan’s name, you hesitate before answering, knowing exactly what he wants to say.

then, out of nowhere, your dad calls.

‘thought i’d come visit for a few days,’ he says casually. ‘been a while since i saw you. figured we could catch up, and… oh, i got us tickets to that big juventus match. i know you don’t care much, but come on, it’ll be fun.’

your heart stops.

kenan’s game.

the universe has a twisted sense of humor.

when you text kenan, your hands are shaking, half from nerves, half from something else.

you’re getting your wish. i’ll be at the game. no one will suspect a thing.

his reply is instant.

finally.

match day.

the stadium is packed, the energy electric. cameras flash everywhere, fans wave banners, the roar of the crowd vibrates through your chest. you sit next to your dad, pretending this is just another game, just another night. but it’s not. you know it. and kenan knows it too.

you try not to look for him, but it’s impossible. every time he gets the ball, every time he makes a play, you feel his presence like gravity pulling you in. and then, in a moment so brief you almost think you imagined it, he looks up, right at you.

you don’t breathe.

he smirks. just for a second. just for you.

then the screen shifts.

your face. your dad’s. plastered across the big screen for the entire stadium to see.

your stomach drops.

your dad laughs, nudging your arm. ‘guess they like seeing an old legend in the crowd, huh?’

you force a smile, but your pulse is racing.

the internet moves fast. by the time the game ends, pictures are everywhere, sports pages, football accounts, gossip sites. ex-player’s stunning daughter spotted at big match. the comments flood in. admiration. curiosity. and then… attention. the kind you didn’t want.

your notifications blow up. blue check accounts start following you. some of them are footballers, bold enough to slip into your dms, dropping fire emojis, compliments, invitations.

and kenan?

he’s livid.

later that night.

you’re in your apartment when he shows up, not even bothering to knock.

‘so that’s what it takes for you to show up at one of my games? your dad bringing you?’ his voice is sharp, but underneath it, there’s something else. jealousy. frustration. something that makes your chest tighten.

you cross your arms, shifting your weight. ‘kenan, don’t—’

‘don’t what? act like i didn’t see how many guys suddenly started following you? or how you ignored my texts but had time to post?’

‘oh my god, are you serious right now?’ you let out a short, humorless laugh. ‘this is exactly why i didn’t want us to go public. the second people know, it becomes a thing.’

he steps closer, his jaw clenched. ‘this isn’t about people knowing. it’s about you acting like you don’t want to be seen with me.’

that hits harder than you expect. you open your mouth, then close it, unsure what to say.

kenan shakes his head. ‘you think hiding protects us, but all it does is push me away.’

you swallow hard, because deep down, you know he’s right.

‘you’re mine,’ he says, voice lower now, rough with emotion. ‘and i want people to know that. so tell me right now. do you want this or not?’

the answer is easy. it’s always been easy.

you step closer, press your hands to his chest, feel his heartbeat pounding beneath your fingertips. ‘of course i want this, kenan.’

his lips crash into yours before you can say anything else, months of frustration, longing, and unspoken words pouring into the kiss. he backs you against the wall, hands firm on your waist, like he’s trying to make up for every second he’s had to pretend you weren’t his.

when you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks. ‘good. because next time i look up in the stands, you better be there, and not because your dad brought you.’

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. ‘fine. but if i show up, i’m wearing your jersey.’

kenan grins, hands still tight on your waist. ‘now that’s what i like to hear.’

I'm craving some angsty kenan fics. So can you make a fic in which the reader is dating kenan but he always hangs out with his girl best friend. He had promised reader he'd be picking up for a premier night of her movie but he didn't show up. So later reader sees the stories of his girl bestfriend and him with some other friends having fun. Reader packs her bags and leaves for a while saying that she needs a break. Kenan rushes back home but reader is already gone. With happy ending please!

❦ - promises && rain.

summary:: it’s the night of your first movie premiere yet your supposed no1 biggest fan doesn’t attend. you attend his big matches so why doesn’t he attend your successes? he’s not an idiot so he takes it upon himself to make it up to you.

warnings:: angst ofc 😔.

writers note:: so uhm idk why this lowkey took me ages but it’s quite plain so hope you enjoy nonetheless! ALSO IVE FINISHED MY REQUESTS SO PLEASE SEND SOME IF U HAVE IDEAS BC MY CREATIVITY IS OUT.

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

you glanced at the clock, heart sinking with every passing minute. kenan had promised he’d be there. ‘i won’t miss your premiere for the world,' he’d said, smile so convincing it had been impossible not to believe him. but the empty seat beside you at the theater said otherwise.

your phone buzzed. a flicker of hope, gone as soon as you saw the notification.

notification: instagram - leah added to their story

you shouldn’t look. you knew you shouldn’t. but your fingers moved on their own, tapping the screen. laughter spilled out, kenan, leah, and some friends at a rooftop bar. kenan grinning, arm slung over leah’s shoulder as they posed for a picture, drinks in hand. your stomach twisted. tonight had been your night. the one he promised to show up for. and instead, he was there. with her. again.

you closed the app, jaw tightening as you shoved your phone into your bag. disappointment weighed heavy on your chest, wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. it wasn’t just tonight. it was the calls he missed, the plans he forgot, the way leah always seemed to come first lately. you trusted him, but even trust had limits.

the apartment was quiet when you got home. your heels clicked against the floor as you tossed your keys on the counter. you stared at the framed photo of you and kenan on the shelf, smiling and happy, felt like a lifetime ago.

your suitcase came down from the closet with a thump. clothes were thrown in, not caring what you packed. you scribbled a note, heart pounding.

‘i need space. don’t call. don’t follow me.’

you left it on the counter, fingers hesitating just a second too long. then you turned, grabbed your bag, and walked out the door.

rain hit the windshield in steady patterns as you drove. no destination, just away. away from the hurt. away from the image of kenan laughing with someone who wasn’t you. you didn’t know how far you drove, didn’t care. eventually, you found a small motel, checked in, and curled up on the unfamiliar bed, letting exhaustion drag you under.

three days passed. your phone lit up with missed calls, texts piling up.

'please talk to me.'

'i’m sorry. i messed up.'

'where are you? just tell me you’re safe.'

you stared at the messages but never replied. your chest ached, torn between anger and sadness. between missing him and wanting to forget.

until the knock came.

you didn’t move at first, thinking it was housekeeping. but then

'please... just open the door.'

kenan’s voice. muffled, desperate. your heart lurched. no. no, you needed space.

but your feet betrayed you, carrying you to the door. you opened it and there he was. soaked from the rain, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes rimmed red. he looked like he hadn’t slept. like the weight you felt had been crushing him too.

he breathed, taking a shaky step forward. 'i know you said not to come, but... i couldn’t just let you go like that.'

'kenan—'

'please. just listen.' his voice cracked, hand tugging through his wet hair. 'i was an idiot. i thought i could make it up to you later, that you’d understand... but god, i was so wrong. i should’ve been there. i should’ve chosen you, every time. i just... didn’t think, and that’s on me.'

you swallowed hard, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. 'do you even realize how it felt? waiting for you... looking at those stories... seeing you with her?' your voice broke. 'i needed you. you promised.'

'i know,' he whispered, chest heaving. 'and i broke that promise. i’ll regret it every day if you let me. but please... give me another chance to fix this. i love you. i’m in love with you. and i can’t, i can’t lose you over my stupidity.'

the rain fell heavier around you both, soaking into your clothes, chilling your skin. for a moment, there was only silence, just your hearts beating, broken and hopeful.

and then, you stepped forward. let yourself fall into his arms. his warmth wrapped around you, holding you like you were the most important thing in the world.

'one more chance,' you whispered, voice barely audible against his chest. 'but kenan... no more broken promises.'

'never again,' he swore, pressing his lips to your temple. 'not ever.'

and somehow, standing there in the rain with him, it felt like maybe, just maybe, you’d both find your way back.

Do you think you can do R dragging joao to the shops with her?

❦ - retail therapy.. or not?

summary:: you dragged your boyfriend joao out shopping with you. despite all his protests he ends up enjoying his time.

warnings:: none.

writers note:: anyways so i’ve hired the amazing @cherryloveshs to make the moodboards for me bc she sent me diabolical requests so for the next 20 fics you’ll see the moodboards i told her to make for me 😍.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

you tugged joão’s hand, practically dragging him along the sidewalk as he trailed behind you, every step exaggerated like you were pulling him toward impending doom rather than just another store.

'come on,' you whined, glancing back at him. 'it won’t take long, i promise.'

he shot you a look, one eyebrow raised. 'that’s what you said at the last store,' he muttered, but there was no real annoyance in his voice, just that playful exasperation he always threw your way when you got him into situations like this.

'yeah, well, that store didn’t have what i was looking for,' you said, matter-of-fact, giving his hand another tug.

joão sighed dramatically, tilting his head back to stare at the sky like he was praying for strength. 'how many stores do you need to go to?'

'just this one,' you promised, fully aware there was a shoe store two doors down you’d 'accidentally' stumble into afterward.

he grumbled under his breath but followed anyway, fingers still laced with yours. when you stepped inside, he blinked at the rows of clothes. 'this place is huge,' he said. 'are we living here now?'

'only if you keep complaining,' you shot back, grinning.

joão immediately put on his most put-upon boyfriend face, shoulders slumping. 'if i die in here, tell everyone i loved them,' he said, loud enough that a nearby shopper snorted a laugh.

rolling your eyes, you started flipping through a rack. 'you’re so dramatic.'

'you brought me here!'

'you said you needed new jeans!' you reminded him.

'yeah, but i thought we’d pop in and out, not... whatever this is,' he gestured vaguely at the racks surrounding you. then, with a sigh that screamed long-suffering, he spotted one of those little benches near the fitting rooms and made a beeline for it. 'i’ll just... sit here and age gracefully while you look.'

'nope,' you said quickly, grabbing a shirt off a hanger and tossing it at him. 'you’re trying stuff on too.'

'why?'

'because you always complain about shopping and then end up loving half the things you try on,' you pointed out. 'don’t think i forgot last time when you acted like you were dying and walked out with three new hoodies.'

'hoodies are different,' he said, already examining the shirt you handed him. 'they’re... comforting.'

'uh-huh,' you deadpanned. 'go. fitting room. now.'

'yes, boss,' he grinned, shooting you a wink before disappearing into the changing room.

while he was inside, you grabbed a couple more things you thought he’d like, hanging them over your arm. you could hear the faint sounds of him grumbling about tags and buttons, which only made you smile.

'ready?' he called.

'let’s see it.'

the door creaked open, and joão stepped out, adjusting the sleeves of the shirt. you blinked.

'okay... rude,' you said. 'you’re not allowed to look that good after complaining this much.'

he glanced in the mirror, a slow smirk spreading across his face. 'not bad, huh?'

'get it,' you said immediately. 'no arguments.'

'thought you said you wouldn’t take long,' he teased. 'you’re the one making me try stuff on now.'

'yeah, yeah,' you waved him off, already scanning for a pair of jeans you thought would go with the shirt.

he laughed, heading back into the fitting room. 'this is payback for making you watch football highlights, isn’t it?'

'maybe,' you grinned.

a little while later, you both emerged with a couple of items draped over your arms, way more successful than joão had anticipated. as you headed toward the checkout, he leaned in and murmured, 'so... coffee after this?'

'of course,' you said. 'thanks for surviving.'

'barely,' he grinned. 'but i’ll need that coffee for recovery.'

'you’ll live,' you teased.

as you left the store, bags in hand and his fingers slipping back into yours, he glanced at you with a soft smile. 'you’re lucky i like you,' he said.

'oh, i know,’ you shot back, laughing as he bumped his shoulder into yours.

and despite all the whining, he never once let go of your hand.

okay next, i js wanna laugh. okay so, were at a charity event or something, and im volunteering, helping hand out juice boxes, signing people in, keeping children from using cones as swords, that typa stuff. until FRANCO COLAPINATA shows up, he's js being annoying really, until shes had enough and YEET the juice box at his head, and then he's all nonchalant and shit like "UH HUH I DESERVED THATTT AHAHA" .... and then you can tell the juice box turned him on bc you can like tell he wants her, and thennn WEEKS pass, and he DM's her. "saw apple juice today. thought of you. still flinch when i see boxes. wanna hang out?” MUWUAHAHSNA

❦ - manzanas contigo.

warnings:: none, maybe cussing..?

writers notes:: pls send more franco/f1 reqs bc i loved writing this sm and hes so fun to write for!

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

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you don’t even want to be here.

the email had said volunteers needed, and your overly kind soul had said sure, why not, and now you’re seven hours deep into wrangling children hopped up on fruit snacks and sun. the charity event is cute in theory, music, booths, a little track set up for games, and a bounce house, but in practice? it’s a battlefield.

you’re stationed at the welcome tent, handing out wristbands and juice boxes and fake smiles.

your feet hurt. your shirt is sticking to your back. a toddler is crying because he dropped his balloon into a bush. and some guy just tried to cut the line because he ‘swears his cousin is already inside.’

you’re not proud of how close you came to smacking him with the clipboard.

but then, because life has a sense of humor, he appears.

franco colapinto.

and you know it’s him, because who else shows up to a local charity event in an alpine cap, looking like he walked out of a sports magazine and directly into your personal hell?

you glance up at the exact moment he’s brushing a curl out of his eyes, all casual and oops i’m hot and didn’t mean to beenergy.

he scans the crowd, sunglasses pushed up on his head, mouth curled like he already knows he’s being stared at. and of course he is. a group of teenage volunteers behind you are whispering, one of them literally smacks the other on the arm and goes that’s him. that’s that guy. the car one.

sigh.

maybe if you stay perfectly still, he won’t notice you.

but of course, you are not blessed with that kind of luck.

his eyes land on you. direct. intentional.

and he starts walking over.

great.

you busy yourself with the juice boxes, shuffling them around pointlessly as if they need organizing, as if you’re not seconds away from face to face contact with a walking headache.

‘so,’ he says, leaning against the table like this is his full time job. ‘what does a guy gotta do to get one of those?’

you glance up. ‘a wristband?’

‘nah. a juice box.’

you stare.

he smiles.

you hold one up. ‘take it and leave.’

‘whoa. feisty. is this how you treat all guests, or am i special?’

you blink. ‘i’ve been here since 6am. i have zero patience and less charm left.’

‘good thing i’ve got enough charm for both of us.’

you raise a brow. ‘that supposed to work on me?’

he shrugs, peeling the wrapper off a straw. ‘worth a shot.’

he doesn’t leave.

he just stands there, sipping slowly, watching you like he’s never seen anyone pass out juice before. his gaze trails across your face, not in a creepy way, just annoyingly observant. like he’s trying to figure out what kind of person signs up for this kind of chaos and doesn’t run away screaming.

you try to ignore him. you really do.

but then he starts helping. like… physically taking wristbands from your hand to hand them to kids, leaning way too close to read names off the sign in list, nodding solemnly at the parents like he belongs here.

and the worst part? people believe it.

‘you two are adorable,’ one lady says as she signs in her daughter.

you nearly choke. ‘we’re not—‘

‘thank you,’ franco cuts in, smiling like he just won an oscar. ‘we try.’

you give him a look. he winks. kill me, you think.

it gets worse when a small child asks for apple juice and franco picks one up, does a dramatic gasp, and goes, ‘apple! the superior juice. i like your taste, kid.’

you break.

you don’t mean to. you truly don’t. but something inside you snaps, and the next thing you know, you’re yeeting a juice box straight at him.

it arcs through the air with surprising grace, smacks him right in the shoulder, and bounces off harmlessly onto the grass.

a moment of silence.

he blinks.

then he laughs. hard.

‘okay,’ he says, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘i deserved that. i fully, absolutely, one hundred percent deserved that.’

you cross your arms. ‘you think?’

he’s still grinning as he bends to pick it up. ‘apple again. symbolic.’

‘you’re ridiculous.’

‘you like me though.’

you scoff. ‘i like peace and quiet.’

‘you’re blushing.’

‘i’m hot. it’s eighty degrees.’

‘you threw a juice box at me.’

‘you were annoying.’

he tilts his head. ‘admit it. it was kinda satisfying.’

you bite back a smile. ‘maybe a little.’

he grins, stepping back finally. ‘i’ll leave you to your cone wrangling duties. but don’t be surprised if you see me again.’

‘god help me,’ you mutter.

he strolls away, sipping the slightly dented juice like it’s champagne.

and yeah. maybe your heart is doing something dumb.

maybe you do glance up once or twice, wondering if he’s still watching you.

maybe he is.

you don’t expect to see him again.

honestly, you’d hoped the juice box incident would be enough to scare him off. but two saturdays later, at a completely different event, you’re there, collecting raffle tickets and babysitting the world’s most chaotic face paint station, and there he is.

franco colapinto.

wearing a hoodie this time. hood up. trying and failing to blend in, as if his stupidly nice smile and the way he walks like the world was made for him don’t give him away instantly.

you see him from across the lot.

he doesn’t even try to be subtle. just lifts his hand in a little wave and starts walking straight toward you like this is a planned reunion and not a complete surprise.

you look around. as if there’s someone else he could be greeting. spoiler: there isn’t.

‘you again,’ you say when he reaches you.

‘me again,’ he grins, pulling down his hood like he’s revealing a secret identity.

you sigh. ‘are you following me?’

‘you wish.’

‘so this is a coincidence?’

he shrugs. ‘or fate.’

you deadpan. ‘you’re insufferable.’

‘you say that every time.’

‘i mean it every time.’

he gestures around, like he’s settling in. ‘need help again? or do i have to earn my juice box rights this time?’

you narrow your eyes. ‘don’t you have a job?’

‘i do. it’s off-season. i’m thriving.’

‘this is how you spend your free time? crashing fundraisers?’

‘not crashing,’ he says, very seriously. ‘contributing. i donated five bucks to the bouncy castle. i’m basically a hero.’

you don’t laugh. you don’t.

okay, maybe a little.

he’s already rolling up his sleeves and jumping into whatever task you’re doing, like last time, and suddenly you’re stuck with him for three hours again.

he helps a little girl glue pom poms onto a paper crown.

he nearly gets paint on his nose and doesn’t notice.

he lets a five year old draw a blue lightning bolt across his cheek and calls it his new racing stripe.

and every now and then, he looks over at you like you’re the funniest thing in the world, even when you’re just frowning at a clipboard or trying to untangle a balloon string from a folding chair.

you pretend not to care.

you pretend really hard.

the third time is the worst.

mostly because… you kind of expect him now.

you’ve made the mistake of mentioning your volunteer schedule to a friend on your story. and it’s fine. really. except now, when you show up to the saturday pet adoption drive with a clipboard and a tight ponytail, you scan the crowd. like an idiot.

he’s not there.

you tell yourself you’re relieved. that you don’t need another afternoon of his smug little comments and stupidly good hair.

but you still keep checking.

twenty minutes pass.

an hour.

two.

he doesn’t come.

you keep busy. hand out flyers. try not to cry when a little dog named charlie gets adopted. organize leashes by size.

and you don’t look at the time more than seven times. promise.

at some point, you’re wiping your hands with a napkin behind the tent when your phone buzzes.

it’s a dm.

from franco.

you blink.

sorry i couldn’t be there today. doing actual job things. tragic.

you stare at it.

then another:

but saw apple juice earlier. still flinched.

and another:

still want to hang out sometime. even if you hit me with stuff. maybe especially because you hit me with stuff.

you can’t help it. your lips twitch.

you don’t reply right away.

you finish your shift. take the long way home. drink half a juice box you saved from the cooler, even though it’s lukewarm now.

and when you’re lying on your bed, staring at the message, you finally type:

you’re impossible.

three dots.

impossible but charming?

you:

debatable.

him:

you didn’t say no though.

you stare at your screen for a second too long.

then:

one coffee. you pay. no weird pickup lines.

his response is immediate.

deal. i’ll try to behave. no promises.

you tell yourself it’s just a coffee.

one coffee. thirty minutes, max. maybe forty five if he says something dumb and you need time to drag him for it.

it’s not a big deal.

except it is. because you spend too long picking an outfit. change your shirt twice. then change it again. then panic change it back to the first one and tell yourself to get a grip.

you meet at some small place he picked, half hipster café, half bookstore. it smells like cinnamon and old paperbacks. you hate how nice it is.

franco’s already there.

and of course he looks… stupidly good. hoodie, again. curls poking out. one hand lazily spinning his coffee cup. and that grin, that stupid boyish grin, when he spots you.

‘you came,’ he says, standing.

‘don’t sound so surprised.’

he does a little half bow. ‘welcome to the least boring hour of your life.’

you roll your eyes and sit across from him. ‘don’t flatter yourself.’

‘not flattering. manifesting.’

you try to look annoyed, but the truth is, you’re already smiling. just a little. traitorous.

you talk.

not about anything huge at first. just… dumb things. favorite drinks. worst airport experiences. why he thinks pineapple on pizza should be illegal (you argue passionately against this).

he tells you about crashing a go kart once when he was twelve because he was ‘trying to wave like a champion’ and forgot to steer.

you tell him about the time you accidentally walked into the wrong class and sat through fifteen minutes of astrophysics before realising.

he laughs with his whole chest.

and it’s easy. too easy. every time your fingers brush reaching for the sugar, it feels like something electric. every time he leans in a little, like he’s really listening, your heart stutters.

you should not be this into him. and yet.

you’re both halfway through your drinks when he goes quiet for a second, then says, ‘i almost didn’t message you.’

you blink. ‘why not?’

he shrugs, looks down, spins the empty cup between his hands. ‘i dunno. didn’t want to be annoying.’

‘you already are.’

he grins, but it’s softer now. ‘yeah, but like… in a cute way.’

you shake your head, but your cheeks are warm. ‘you’re such a menace.’

‘you threw juice at me.’

‘because you were asking for it.’

he leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes on yours. ‘maybe i was.’

your breath catches. just a little. just enough.

you clear your throat. ‘you’re not smooth, you know.’

‘i don’t need to be. i just need to make you smile.’

you hate him.

you really, really don’t.

you leave the café two hours later.

two.

neither of you wants to say goodbye yet, so you walk. just… around. your shoulder brushes his once. then again. then a third time, and this time, it stays there. just for a second longer than it should.

he doesn’t let go first.

eventually, you end up back where you started.

he looks at you like he wants to say something. then looks away. then back.

‘can i see you again?’ he asks, soft.

you nod. and for once, don’t try to be clever.

‘yeah. i’d like that.’

the second date happens faster than either of you expect.

you’d planned to wait. play it cool. but then franco sends you a picture of a strawberry smoothie and says ‘looked gross. thought of u,’ and you end up laughing so hard in the middle of your kitchen that you just… cave.

you text him:
you free tonight?

he replies in literal seconds:
always. pick the time. i’ll teleport.

you meet again at the same café. but this time, he’s not already sitting.

he’s waiting outside. leaning on the wall. hoodie again, he really only owns five of them, he tells you later, and his curls are just barely damp from the light rain that’s started falling.

he sees you and that grin hits his face like clockwork. like he’d been saving it just for you.

‘you came,’ he says.

‘you say that every time.’

‘yeah, but like… every time you do, it messes me up a little.’

you pretend you don’t hear that part.

it’s darker inside. quieter. the same table’s free, but this time, you sit next to each other.

close.

too close.

he smells good. not in an obvious, cologne drenched way. it’s something warmer. shampoo and sugar and the kind of scent that lingers even after he leaves.

your knees touch under the table.

neither of you moves.

you talk again.

about bigger things this time. pressure. travel. burnout. he admits he sometimes feels like everything’s moving too fast, and he’s scared he won’t be able to hold on.

you nod. you tell him about how you fake confidence half the time. how sometimes you feel invisible until someone needs something.

he listens. really listens.

then says, ‘you’re not invisible.’

you blink. ‘okay?’

‘just saying. i notice you. always have.’

you laugh a little. ‘that’s creepy.’

‘yeah,’ he says, smiling into his drink. ‘but like… romantic creepy.’

you don’t mean to stay late. but time’s slippery around him.

by the time you realize it’s almost midnight, you’re both sitting outside the café, sharing a leftover pastry and watching the rain slide down the windows.

you don’t want to go.

he doesn’t want to say goodbye.

so he walks you home.

he stops outside your door.

you both kind of hover there. like two idiots waiting for someone to do something. say something.

‘this was nice,’ you say quietly.

‘yeah,’ he says, and then, softer, ‘i wanna kiss you.’

your breath catches.

he doesn’t move closer. doesn’t touch you. he just stands there, all warm eyes and soft voice.

you whisper, ‘then why don’t you?’

he grins. all teeth and nerves and too much hope.

‘cause the minute i kiss you, i’m not gonna stop thinking about it. and i want you to wanna kiss me back. like really want to.’

you stare at him.

he shrugs. ‘just being honest.’

you nod. heart in your throat.

then say, ‘next time.’

he smirks, already backing away.

‘i’ll hold you to that.’

you tell yourself you’re not waiting.

not waiting for a text. not waiting for a call. not waiting for the memory of him saying i wanna kiss you to stop looping in your head like some kind of cursed romantic ringtone.

but when his name flashes on your screen two days later, your whole face warms.

what if we didn’t do coffee this time?

you stare.

what do you wanna do then?

he replies instantly.

drive. music. idfk. i’ll bring snacks. you bring the vibe.

you:
so i’m the vibe?

him:
always.

he picks you up at 7:03.

he’s in a black hoodie this time, and his car smells like mint gum and the ghost of bad fast food. there’s a half eaten bag of crisps on the passenger seat, which he tosses in the back when you open the door.

‘you’re late,’ you say.

‘you’re early. time’s fake. get in.’

he drives like he thinks he’s in a movie.

one hand on the wheel. other messing with the aux. windows down. hair wind-blown and wild. he sings under his breath to every second song. raps to the third one badly. you don’t stop laughing the entire first hour.

you don’t know where he’s going, but you don’t care.

being next to him feels like its own kind of destination.

eventually, he parks by the water.

some random lookout. the city’s lights glitter below, far enough to feel small. the kind of view that feels too beautiful to deserve.

you sit on the hood of his car. shoulder to shoulder. knee to knee. the air’s cold, but not too cold. and everything’s soft. quiet.

for a second, neither of you says anything.

and then, gently, he says, ‘i think about kissing you a lot.’

you blink.

he keeps staring ahead, like he didn’t just drop a bomb. ‘not in a creepy way.’

you laugh. ‘do you always think you’re being creepy?’

‘only when i like someone too much.’

the words settle in your chest like warmth. like lightning.

‘franco,’ you say.

he turns.

‘kiss me.’

his eyes go wide. like for a second, he’s not sure if he heard you right.

then, slowly, he leans in.

he kisses you like he’s afraid to mess it up. like he’s been waiting exactly this long, and not a second less. soft, steady, sure.

and when he pulls back, he just rests his forehead against yours.

neither of you speaks for a minute.

you break the silence. ‘not bad.’

he huffs a laugh. ‘that’s it? not bad?’

‘seven out of ten. you’ll need practice.’

‘cool. guess i better keep showing up.’

you’re not sure when it shifted.

when the maybe turned into definitely. when the texting turned into facetime turned into mornings with your feet tangled under his on the couch. when the almost turned into always.

but now, here you are, franco at your door with a half-melted milkshake and a stupid grin, like he’s been thinking about this all day.

‘you’re late,’ you tease, taking the drink.

‘you’re still hot,’ he says, walking in like he lives here.

(he kind of does.)

you’ve been soft ever since the drive.

he kisses you now like he needs to. like he missed you, even if it’s only been a few hours. like kissing you is just a normal part of his day, something between brushing his teeth and ruining your kitchen by cooking you breakfast at 2 a.m.

sometimes, you wake up to his hand resting on your waist, his face buried in your shoulder. like his body forgets how to be without you.

you don’t say it. not yet. but you feel it.

you think he does too.

it’s been weeks.

weeks since franco colapinto got beaned in the forehead with apple juice and decided that was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him.

weeks since he dm’d you with that dumb message:
saw apple juice today. thought of you. still flinch when i see boxes. wanna hang out?

weeks since you said yes.

and now here you are, propped up on his couch, socks mismatched, face lit by the glow of a documentary you’re not watching, because franco’s lying with his head in your lap and he keeps dragging his fingers along your leg like he can’t believe you’re real.

‘what,’ you murmur.

‘nothing,’ he says. then, quietly: ‘just thinking about the juicebox.’

you snort. ‘again?’

he nods, sleepy and fond. ‘you threw that thing with intention. it was beautiful.’

‘you’re so weird.’

‘you’re the one who assaulted me with a children’s drink.’

‘you flirted with me for two hours while i was working.’

‘you looked hot with a clipboard. sue me.’

you roll your eyes. he reaches up, brushes your hair behind your ear.

‘you know i really did think about you every time i saw juice after that?’

‘you said that already.’

‘i mean it. i’d be in a store and be like… damn. i miss her aim.’

you swat him. he laughs. kisses your wrist.

later, when you’re brushing your teeth in his oversized hoodie, he pulls you into his arms and rests his chin on your head.

‘should we save the juicebox?’ he asks, voice muffled in your hair.

‘what, like… frame it?’

‘yeah. put it above the bed. shrine to our origin story.’

‘you’re so dumb.’

‘dumb for you.’

you groan. he grins.

he still gets teased by his friends about the Incident.

he still buys apple juice ‘for the bit’ and lines the fridge with it like a threat.

but when he kisses you goodbye before his next race, all soft and slow like he’s imprinting it in his memory, he says:

‘thanks for hitting me.’

and you say,
‘thanks for being annoying enough to deserve it.’

and maybe, maybe, that’s just your love language now.

OMG This Gavi x tennis reader fic was so good could you do a part two or maybe a series out of it. It would be soo cool

❦ - love && war part 2.

summary:: after ages of long distance due to matches and opens, you two are finally reunited, for good. ALSO YOU CAN READ THIS AS A ONE SHOT IF YOU WISH.

warnings:: none

writers note:: first of yall do yg want a part 3 and if so lmk! and usually i have sm to say but i js dont?

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

gavi hated this.

hated watching your matches through a screen. hated missing the moments that mattered. hated that you were miles away while he was stuck in barcelona, playing game after game without you in the stands.

he had tried to act normal. tried to focus on training, on his own matches, but it was impossible when his mind kept drifting back to you.

you were playing one of the biggest tournaments of your career, and he wasn’t there. instead, he was sitting in the team bus, watching the live stream on his phone with his airpods in, barely listening as his teammates talked around him.

pedri nudged him. ‘what’s the score?’

‘she won the first set. second set’s tied.’ gavi’s voice was tight, his grip on his phone firm.

his heart was racing. he could see the way you moved, the way you fought for every point. he knew that look on your face, the one that meant you weren’t giving up.

when the bus arrived at the hotel, gavi didn’t move. he just sat there, eyes locked on his screen.

ferran laughed. ‘bro, are you coming?’

‘go without me,’ gavi muttered, waving them off.

pedri sighed but didn’t argue. ‘don’t stay up all night, man. you have a game tomorrow.’

gavi didn’t even acknowledge him. he was too busy watching you chase down a drop shot, too busy whispering curses under his breath when you missed, too busy fist pumping when you won the next point.

then came match point.

he held his breath.

you tossed the ball into the air, racket swinging effortlessly, the sharp sound of the ball meeting strings filling the speakers. your opponent barely got a return in before you sent a forehand straight down the line, untouched.

game, set, match.

gavi exhaled loudly, running a hand through his hair as he watched you drop your racket, hands flying to your face in disbelief before pure joy took over. the crowd erupted, commentators shouting excitedly, but all gavi could focus on was you.

he needed to call you. now.

he stepped off the bus, walking toward the hotel entrance as he pulled up your contact. it barely rang twice before you picked up, breathless.

‘pablo!’

he grinned. ‘felicidades, mi amor. joder, you were incredible.’

you let out a shaky laugh, still overwhelmed. ‘you watched?’

‘of course i watched,’ he scoffed. ‘you think i’d miss that?’

‘you have a game tomorrow.’

‘i don’t care. i needed to see you win.’

there was a pause, your breathing still heavy from the match.

‘i wish you were here.’

his chest tightened. ‘me too.’

and he meant it. more than anything.

you sighed softly. ‘i’m flying back in two days.’

‘two days is too long.’

‘pablo.’

‘what if i come to you instead?’

you groaned. ‘you have training. a match. be serious.’

‘no quiero ser serio,’ he muttered. ‘quiero verte.’

you laughed, tired but full of love. ‘dos días, amor. i’ll be home soon.’

he sighed, kicking at the ground. ‘fine. but the second you land, i’m kidnapping you.’

‘deal.’

he smiled, finally making his way inside. two days. he just had to survive two more days.

gavi had never been this impatient in his life.

he was at the airport two hours early, pacing near the arrivals gate like a madman. pedri had made fun of him for it, called him dramatic, told him to just wait at home like a normal person, but gavi didn’t care. he had waited long enough.

his arms were crossed, jaw tight, sneakers tapping anxiously against the polished floor as he checked the flight tracker for what had to be the hundredth time. landed. you were here. finally.

his heart was pounding, fingers tapping against his thigh as he watched passengers filter through the doors. every time someone who vaguely resembled you walked out, he straightened up, only to sigh when it wasn’t you.

then he saw you.

hair slightly messy from the flight, suitcase dragging behind you, eyes scanning the crowd. and the second your gaze landed on him, everything else disappeared.

he didn’t think. he just moved.

one second, he was standing still. the next, he was pushing through people, reaching for you, grabbing your face and kissing you like he was scared you’d disappear again.

you barely had time to react before you melted into him, hands gripping his hoodie as he held you close, like he needed to feel every inch of you to believe you were really here.

when he finally pulled back, you were breathless, blinking up at him in surprise.

‘hola to you too,’ you teased.

he ignored you, pressing his forehead against yours. ‘you’re never leaving for that long again.’

you laughed softly, fingers brushing through his hair. ‘i can’t promise that, pablo.’

‘then i’ll come with you.’

‘you have a job, remember?’

he frowned. ‘it’s a stupid job.’

you grinned. ‘says the guy who loves football more than anything.’

‘not more than you,’ he muttered, arms still locked around you.

you sighed, shaking your head. ‘you’re impossible.’

‘you love it.’

you did. you really did.

he grabbed your suitcase, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he started leading you toward the exit.

‘come on, we’re going home. and i’m not letting you out of my sight for at least a week.’

you smiled, leaning into him. ‘fine by me.’

the drive back to his place was quiet, but it wasn’t awkward. it was the kind of comfortable silence that only came from knowing someone so deeply that words weren’t always necessary. gavi had one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, thumb brushing absently over your skin.

you watched him in the dim light of the car, his face focused, jaw tight like he was still processing the fact that you were finally here.

‘you okay?’ you asked softly.

he glanced at you, squeezing your leg before turning back to the road. ‘yeah. just… missed you.’

you smiled, threading your fingers through his. ‘i missed you too.’

he let out a small breath, like he had been holding it in for weeks.

‘you’re really not leaving for a while, right?’

you bit your lip. ‘well—’

his head snapped toward you so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash. ‘no. no way. you just got back.’

you laughed. ‘pablo, relax. i meant i have a few interviews and press stuff, but i don’t have to travel again for at least a month.’

he exhaled dramatically. ‘okay. that’s fine. i can work with a month.’

you rolled your eyes, leaning over to kiss his cheek. ‘you’re so dramatic.’

he just hummed, tightening his grip on your hand like he was scared you’d slip away.

when you finally reached his apartment, he barely gave you time to take off your shoes before he was pulling you onto the couch, dragging you into his lap.

‘pablo,’ you giggled. ‘let me breathe.’

‘no.’

you shook your head, running your fingers through his hair. ‘you’re like a clingy puppy.’

he just buried his face in your neck, mumbling something you couldn’t quite hear.

‘what was that?’

he sighed, voice muffled against your skin. ‘i hated not being there.’

you softened, tilting his chin up so he was looking at you. his eyes were darker than usual, serious.

‘you support me, pablo. even from miles away. i always feel you with me.’

he swallowed, looking down for a second before meeting your gaze again. ‘i wanted to be in the stands. wanted to run down to the court and pick you up when you won. wanted to kiss you in front of everyone so they knew you were mine.’

your heart ached.

‘pablo—’

‘i know your career is important. i’d never want you to give that up. but sometimes i wish things were easier. that i could just be with you all the time.’

you sighed, resting your forehead against his.

‘me too.’

his hands slid up your back, pressing you even closer. ‘promise me something?’

‘anything.’

‘next time you win a title, i’ll be there. no matter what.’

you smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. ‘deal.’

he grinned against your mouth, flipping you onto your back so he could hover over you.

‘good. because i don’t plan on missing another match ever again.’

you laughed, pulling him down for another kiss.

home. finally.