gavitaffy

[gavitaffy]

Goals of the Heart, part 4

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Paring: Pablo Gavi & f!reader

Summary: Y/N, an artist sketching in Barcelona, has her painting ruined when a stray football crashes into her easel. The culprit, a young man named Pablo Gavi, apologizes profusely and buys her new art supplies to make up for it. She later learns he's a famous footballer for Barcelona but brushes it off, treating him as just "the guy who ruined her painting." Gavi, intrigued by her indifference, offers to take her for coffee, hinting at the start of a surprising connection between them.

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 1,5k

Chapter 4: A Quiet Reunion

The weeks that followed felt hollow for both Y/N and Pablo. For Y/N, the absence of his vibrant energy was glaring. Her days were quieter, and though she poured herself into her art, she couldn’t shake the memory of his laugh, the warmth of his hand in hers, or the way he made her feel like she belonged somewhere.

For Pablo, the silence was unbearable. He was used to the roar of stadiums and the chaos of his life in the public eye, but none of it compared to the calm he found in her company. His teammates noticed his distraction on the field, and even his coach pulled him aside one day to ask if something was wrong.

But both of them were stubborn, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had grown between them.

One crisp autumn afternoon, Y/N decided to escape the noise of her thoughts and visit her favorite hidden café in El Born. It was a place she’d discovered long before meeting Pablo, tucked away behind ivy-covered walls and known only to a handful of locals. She ordered her usual—an espresso and a slice of almond cake—and settled into a corner table with her sketchpad.

The café was quiet, save for the gentle hum of conversation and the clink of cups. Y/N let herself sink into the rhythm of her pencil strokes, sketching a scene of two dancers twirling under a canopy of stars.

“Still drawing magic, I see.”

Her hand froze mid-stroke, her heart skipping at the familiar voice. She looked up to see Pablo standing there, his hands stuffed into the pockets of a black hoodie. He looked more casual than she was used to seeing him, but there was something vulnerable in his expression, as if he wasn’t sure he was welcome.

“Pablo,” she breathed, surprised to see him.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Mind if I sit?”

She hesitated, but then she nodded. He slid into the seat across from her, his presence filling the small space between them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension was palpable, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Finally, Pablo broke the silence.

“I didn’t know you came here,” he said, his tone light but searching.

“It’s my favorite spot,” Y/N replied, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her sketchpad. “It’s quiet.”

“I can see why you like it,” he said, glancing around. Then his eyes settled on her drawing. “That’s beautiful.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “Thanks.”

He looked at her, his gaze soft. “I missed this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s breath hitched. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “I missed it too,” she confessed.

Pablo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. About how hard all of this has been for you. And I get it—I do. But I also can’t stop thinking about how much I care about you, Y/N. I don’t want to let this go without a fight.”

Her heart ached at his words. “It’s not that I don’t care about you, Pablo. I do. But I’ve never wanted to be in the spotlight. I just wanted to live my life quietly, focus on my art. Being with you...it’s like stepping into a world I don’t belong in.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes filled with understanding. “I know. And I hate that being with me makes things harder for you. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to be part of that world. You don’t have to go to games or deal with the media. We can keep things low-key, just us.”

“Do you think that’s possible?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with doubt.

“I think anything’s possible if we both want it,” Pablo said firmly.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his. She saw the sincerity in his expression, the determination that made him a star on the field and a steadfast presence in her life.

“I’m scared, Pablo,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I’m scared of losing myself in all of this.”

“You won’t,” he promised. “I won’t let that happen. I’ll be here to remind you who you are, even when you forget. And if it ever gets to be too much, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked them away quickly. She didn’t want to cry in the middle of a café. But his words touched something deep inside her, melting the walls she had built over the past few weeks.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.

“Okay?” he repeated, his face lighting up with hope.

“Okay,” she said again, a small smile tugging at her lips. “But we take it slow. And you have to promise me—no grand gestures, no dragging me into the spotlight. Just us.”

“Just us,” he agreed, his grin wide and genuine.

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking, catching up on everything they had missed in each other’s lives. Pablo told her about a tricky game against Real Madrid, complete with exaggerated impressions of his teammates, while Y/N shared her latest art project—a series of sketches inspired by Barcelona’s streets at night.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city, Pablo walked Y/N back to her apartment. The air was crisp, the faint scent of orange blossoms lingering in the breeze.

When they reached her door, they stood there for a moment, neither wanting the evening to end.

“I meant what I said,” Pablo told her, his voice low. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

Y/N smiled, her heart full for the first time in weeks. “I know you will.”

He hesitated, then reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture was simple, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her cheeks flushed, but she nodded.

He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing hers with a tenderness that made her knees weak. The kiss was sweet and unhurried, like a promise unspoken but deeply felt. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N’s heart was racing, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Pablo said, his eyes sparkling.

“Goodnight, Pablo,” she replied, watching as he walked away, his hands in his pockets and a spring in his step.

As she closed the door behind her, Y/N leaned against it, her fingers brushing her lips. She had no idea what the future held, but for the first time, she felt ready to face it—with Pablo by her side.

[gavitaffy]

Goals of the Heart, part 3

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

A/N: We're halfway! Series number 3! I really hope that you guys are enjoying this, lmk if there's anything I can o to make this better!

Paring: Pablo Gavi & f!reader

Summary: Y/N, an artist sketching in Barcelona, has her painting ruined when a stray football crashes into her easel. The culprit, a young man named Pablo Gavi, apologizes profusely and buys her new art supplies to make up for it. She later learns he's a famous footballer for Barcelona but brushes it off, treating him as just "the guy who ruined her painting." Gavi, intrigued by her indifference, offers to take her for coffee, hinting at the start of a surprising connection between them.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,1k

Chapter 3: The Spotlight and Shadows

Y/N’s life had always been quiet. Her days were filled with sketching in cafés, attending art classes, and wandering the streets of Barcelona, searching for inspiration. But ever since that fateful encounter with Pablo Gavi, everything had changed.

At first, it had been small things: an uptick in followers on her social media accounts, strangers DM'ing her with harmless questions like “Are you the girl Gavi pointed to during the game?” or “How do you know him?” She brushed it off, not realizing how quickly the attention would escalate.

Then came the viral photos.

A week after Pablo’s match, a paparazzo snapped pictures of them having coffee together at a small café. The photos spread like wildfire. Suddenly, her name was all over fan forums and sports blogs. The headlines ranged from playful to invasive:

“Gavi’s Mystery Girl: Who is She?” “Pablo Gavi Sparks Dating Rumors with Unknown Artist” “Fans React to Gavi’s New Flame—Is She Good Enough for Him?”

At first, Y/N found it almost amusing. She joked with Pablo about being his “scandal of the month,” and he laughed it off, saying, “They’ll move on soon. Don’t worry.” But the attention didn’t fade. If anything, it intensified.

Y/N’s phone buzzed relentlessly with notifications. Some messages were sweet and curious, while others were venomous.

“You’re so lucky! Gavi deserves someone special like you!” “Stay away from him, gold digger.” “She’s not even pretty. Gavi could do better.”

She stopped checking her messages after a while, the cruel comments cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. Her once-peaceful walks through the city became tense and paranoid as she noticed people staring or whispering.

The final straw came when someone leaked her personal Instagram account. Fans flooded her posts with comments, dissecting every photo, every caption, every part of her life.

“You okay?” Pablo asked one evening as they sat in his car outside her apartment.

She bit her lip, staring at her hands. “Not really. It’s...a lot.”

He reached over, taking her hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just—I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I didn’t sign up to have my entire life picked apart by strangers.”

Pablo looked at her, guilt etched into his face. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I’ll talk to my PR team. Maybe they can do something—put out a statement or—”

“No,” Y/N interrupted, shaking her head. “That’ll just make it worse. People will think it’s some kind of confirmation.”

The car fell silent, the weight of her words hanging between them.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N tried to focus on her art, but the joy she once felt while sketching seemed distant. Her professors noticed her distracted demeanor, and her friends urged her to talk about what was going on, but she couldn’t bring herself to open up.

One night, she finally broke down.

Pablo had invited her to a small gathering with some of his teammates, hoping to take her mind off everything. She had hesitated but agreed, thinking it might help. The evening started off well enough—his teammates were friendly, their partners warm and welcoming. But as the night wore on, the casual comments started to sting.

“You’re braver than I’d be,” one of the girlfriends said, laughing lightly. “Dating someone so famous? I’d go crazy with all those eyes on me.”

Another chimed in, “And the fans? They’re relentless. Gavi’s lucky you’re sticking around.”

Y/N forced a smile, but their words clung to her like a heavy weight.

When they left the party, Pablo noticed her quietness immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked as they drove home.

Y/N stared out the window, her voice trembling. “I don’t think I can do this, Pablo.”

“Do what?” he asked, his voice soft with concern.

“This. Us.” She turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m not built for this life. I don’t want to be someone who’s constantly watched and judged just for being with you.”

Pablo pulled the car over, his face stricken. “Y/N, I get it. I do. But don’t let them scare you away from something good. From us.”

“It’s not just them,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “It’s me. I can’t focus on my art anymore. I’m always looking over my shoulder, wondering if someone’s watching. This...pressure, it’s suffocating.”

He reached for her hands, holding them tightly. “I don’t care what anyone says, Y/N. You’re the most important person in my life right now. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this easier for you. Just...don’t give up on me. Please.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked at him. She wanted to believe him, to trust that they could make this work. But the weight of everything felt overwhelming.

“I need time, Pablo,” she said softly. “I need to figure out who I am in all of this.”

The next few days were quiet. Pablo gave her the space she asked for, though it clearly pained him. Y/N threw herself into her art, hoping to rediscover the passion that once defined her.

One afternoon, as she sketched in a hidden corner of a park, she received a text from Pablo.

Pablo: I miss you. I’ll wait as long as you need. Just know I’m here.

Y/N’s heart ached as she read his words. She missed him, too—the way he made her laugh, the way he believed in her even when she doubted herself. But she still wasn’t sure if she could handle being part of his world.

As the sun set over Barcelona, she stared at her sketch, the lines forming an image of two figures standing together. It was unfinished, much like her relationship with Pablo.

For now, all she could do was hope that time would bring clarity. Whether they’d find their way back to each other was a question she couldn’t yet answer.

[gavitaffy]

Goals of the Heart, part 2

GIF by gavisfanta

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

A/N: Aye, Aye, Ayeee! Series number 2!!

Paring: Pablo Gavi & f!reader

Summary: Y/N, an artist sketching in Barcelona, has her painting ruined when a stray football crashes into her easel. The culprit, a young man named Pablo Gavi, apologizes profusely and buys her new art supplies to make up for it. She later learns he's a famous footballer for Barcelona but brushes it off, treating him as just "the guy who ruined her painting." Gavi, intrigued by her indifference, offers to take her for coffee, hinting at the start of a surprising connection between them.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,1k

Chapter 2: Sparks Fly

It had been two weeks since Y/N’s unexpected encounter with Pablo Gavi in the Gothic Quarter. She had all but forgotten about it, busying herself with her university classes and her art projects. The new canvas he had bought her sat propped up in her tiny apartment, untouched. For some reason, she felt hesitant to use it, as though it held more significance than just a simple replacement.

One crisp Friday evening, as Y/N packed up her sketchpad from a study session at her favorite café, her phone buzzed. It was an unknown number. She frowned but decided to check the message.

Pablo: Hey, Y/N. Hope I’m not bothering you. It’s Gavi—well, Pablo. I got your number from the shopkeeper. Just wanted to ask if you’d like to come to a game tomorrow? No pressure! But it’d be cool to show you what I do when I’m not ruining paintings.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment, her lips twitching into an involuntary smile. She hesitated—football wasn’t exactly her thing. But she remembered the boyish enthusiasm in his eyes when they’d talked, the way he’d treated her like a person instead of another fan. Finally, she replied.

Y/N: Sure, why not? Just don’t expect me to know what’s going on.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed again.

Pablo: Perfect! I’ll leave you a ticket at the gate. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you understand the best part: when we score.

The next day, Y/N stood outside Camp Nou, her heart pounding as she took in the sheer size of the stadium. Thousands of fans in Barça jerseys filled the streets, their energy infectious. She felt out of place in her simple jeans and sweater but pushed the thought aside as she collected her ticket and found her way to her seat.

The roar of the crowd hit her like a wave as she entered the stands. The field stretched out before her, a sea of green surrounded by a kaleidoscope of red and blue. Y/N sat down, feeling both awed and overwhelmed.

As the players warmed up, her eyes scanned the field until they landed on a familiar figure. Pablo was stretching with his teammates, his focus intense but his movements relaxed. It was strange seeing him like this—completely in his element.

The game began with a whistle, and Y/N quickly realized how little she understood. The players moved like a well-rehearsed dance, passing the ball with precision and skill. Around her, fans cheered, groaned, and shouted in Spanish, their passion filling the air.

Then, in the 30th minute, the crowd erupted. Y/N looked up just in time to see Pablo break away from his defender, darting toward the goal. With a quick flick of his foot, he sent the ball soaring past the goalkeeper and into the net.

The stadium exploded with noise, and Y/N found herself standing along with everyone else, caught up in the excitement. Pablo ran toward the stands, his arms outstretched in celebration. For a moment, their eyes met, and he pointed directly at her with a grin.

Her cheeks flushed as the people around her cheered even louder, oblivious to the gesture’s significance. She sat down quickly, her heart racing.

Once the final whistle blew and Barcelona secured a win, Y/N waited near the gate where Pablo had told her to meet him. It took a while, but eventually, he appeared, showered and dressed in casual clothes. A backpack slung over his shoulder, he smiled when he spotted her.

“You came!” he said, walking up to her, his expression lit with genuine excitement.

“You make it sound like I was going to bail,” Y/N teased.

“Honestly? I wasn’t sure. But I’m glad you didn’t,” he admitted, his eyes glinting. “What did you think?”

“It was...intense,” she said, searching for the right words. “I didn’t understand half of what was happening, but when you scored? That was amazing.”

Pablo laughed. “See? I told you that’s the best part.”

He glanced around, then gestured toward the parking lot. “Are you hungry? There’s this little place nearby I like. No crowds, just good food.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment but nodded. “Okay. As long as you don’t expect me to talk about football the whole time.”

“Deal,” he said with a grin.

The restaurant turned out to be a cozy family-run tapas bar tucked away on a quiet street. The owner greeted Pablo like an old friend, seating them in a corner booth and bringing out a spread of dishes without even taking an order.

As they ate, Y/N found herself relaxing. Pablo was easy to talk to, his energy contagious. He asked about her art, genuinely interested in her sketches and her studies. In return, she asked him about football—not the technical stuff, but what it felt like to play in front of thousands of fans.

“It’s a rush,” he admitted, pausing to sip his drink. “But sometimes, it’s overwhelming. That’s why I liked meeting you. You didn’t treat me like a celebrity or an athlete. You just saw me as...me.”

Y/N smiled. “To be fair, I didn’t know who you were at first.”

“Exactly,” he said, his grin widening. “It was refreshing.”

As the evening wore on, they talked about everything from their favorite movies to their childhoods. Y/N learned that Pablo had grown up in a small town, playing football in the streets with his friends. He learned that Y/N had fallen in love with art because of her mother, who used to paint with her on rainy afternoons.

By the time they left the restaurant, the city was quiet, the streets lit by soft yellow streetlights.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Pablo said as they walked back toward her apartment. “I know this isn’t your world, but it means a lot to me.”

Y/N glanced at him, her heart fluttering. “It’s not so bad. I might even come to another game—if you promise to explain what’s going on.”

“Deal,” he said, his smile warm and sincere.

When they reached her building, he hesitated, his hands in his pockets. “I’ll text you?”

Y/N nodded, feeling a little breathless. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

As she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in a long while, she felt like something unexpected and wonderful was beginning.

[gavitaffy]

Goals of the heart

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

A/N: Heyy guys! I'm "back" after what..?😀 Since July and it's December rn, but I just started my last year at school, and I've decided to become a "IT student" so I gotta work my ass off rn. I've had 6 midterms in the course of 2 weeks... BUT I will start a little series called "Goals of the Heart", I'll try to post everyday of this series.

Paring: Pablo Gavi & f!reader

Summary: Y/N, an artist sketching in Barcelona, has her painting ruined when a stray football crashes into her easel. The culprit, a young man named Pablo Gavi, apologizes profusely and buys her new art supplies to make up for it. She later learns he's a famous footballer for Barcelona but brushes it off, treating him as just "the guy who ruined her painting." Gavi, intrigued by her indifference, offers to take her for coffee, hinting at the start of a surprising connection between them.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,1k (i'm proud🥲)

Chapter 1: A Chance Encounter

The warm afternoon sun filtered through the narrow streets of Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter, casting golden light over centuries-old buildings. Y/N sat on a small stool in a quiet corner, her easel propped up in front of her. She had spent the past hour working on a sketch, capturing the lively essence of a street performer strumming a guitar. Around her, tourists and locals bustled, but in her mind, it was just her and the soft scratching sound of her charcoal pencil on paper.

She loved this part of the city. The worn cobblestones, the scent of coffee and churros from nearby cafés, and the chatter of different languages all created an energy she thrived on. Her hand paused briefly as she admired her progress. Just a few more details, and—

Thud!

Before Y/N could react, a football crashed into her easel, knocking it sideways. She yelped as her canvas toppled, splattering paint in every direction. The streaks of color ruined her meticulous sketch, turning it into an unrecognizable mess.

“¡Lo siento mucho!” a voice called out.

She spun around, her frustration bubbling over. A young man was jogging toward her, his dark brown eyes wide with concern. He was about her age, with slightly messy dark blond hair and a lean, athletic build. Sweat clung to his brow, and he wore a plain white T-shirt and shorts, looking like someone who had just finished a workout.

“Are you serious right now?” Y/N exclaimed, gesturing to the mess of paint and ruined paper. “Do you know how long I’ve been working on this?”

He stopped in front of her, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice warm and apologetic. “It was a bad pass. I didn’t mean to ruin your work.”

Y/N folded her arms, glaring at him. “Well, you did. This is completely ruined!”

He straightened, his expression softening into one of guilt. “I’ll fix it. I’ll buy you a new canvas and anything else you need. I promise.”

For a moment, she hesitated. He seemed sincere, but the frustration of seeing her hard work destroyed made it hard to let go. Finally, she sighed, shaking her head. “Fine. But you’re carrying my supplies back to the shop.”

His face brightened with relief, and he nodded. “Deal.”

As they walked toward the nearest art supply shop, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way people were looking at him. A few passersby did double takes, and a group of teenagers whispered excitedly before sneaking out their phones to take pictures. She frowned, glancing sideways at him.

“Why is everyone staring at you?” she asked bluntly.

He looked slightly amused. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re just curious about the girl I ruined a painting for?”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Sure.”

He laughed, a light, easy sound that caught her off guard. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

They reached the shop a few minutes later, and he immediately took charge, picking out the largest canvas he could find and tossing in a set of paints and brushes for good measure. Y/N tried to protest. “You don’t need to buy all of that! Just a new canvas is fine.”

He grinned. “Nope. I’m making up for the mess I caused.”

The shopkeeper, an older woman with sharp eyes, gave them both an amused look as she rang them up. “You know who he is, don’t you?” she asked Y/N in a low voice.

Y/N blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

The woman tilted her head toward him. “That’s Pablo Gavi. He plays for Barcelona.”

The name rang a faint bell. Y/N wasn’t a big football fan, but she had heard about the young prodigy making waves in the sport. Her eyes widened slightly, and she turned to look at him again. He was busy chatting with the shopkeeper, a lopsided smile on his face as he struggled to balance the supplies he’d just purchased.

When they left the shop, Y/N couldn’t resist asking. “So, you’re kind of a big deal, huh?”

He glanced at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The shopkeeper said you play for Barcelona. I’ve heard your name before,” she said, her tone neutral.

He shrugged, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Yeah, I play for the team. But I didn’t think you’d recognize me. You don’t seem like the football type.”

“I’m not,” she admitted with a small laugh. “But now I get why people were staring at you.”

“Great. Now you’re going to treat me differently,” he said, half-joking.

“Relax,” Y/N replied with a smirk. “You’re just the guy who ruined my painting.”

He burst out laughing, the sound echoing down the narrow street. “Fair enough. What’s your name, by the way? I don’t think I got it earlier.”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, I owe you more than just a canvas,” he said, his voice softening. “Let me make it up to you properly. Can I take you for coffee or something?”

Y/N hesitated, caught off guard by the earnest look in his eyes. Despite herself, she smiled. “We’ll see. Maybe I’ll run into you again.”

“Maybe,” he echoed, his grin widening.

As she watched him jog off down the street, Y/N felt a strange flutter in her chest. What started as a ruined painting might just turn into something unexpected. Little did she know, this was the beginning of a story that would change both of their lives.

[gavitaffy]

Looking at this picture if gavi with thos song in the background, can someone please make an edit with it please, i’m in loooove😩😩💋💋

[gavitaffy]

Interview

A/N: HII! This is my first story here on tumblr, I’m excited to hear what you guys think about this (please be nice :’)) I don’t got a lot of experience with writing fan fic’s, but reader? a lot of good experience there. I don’t know completely how tumblr works so smby please teach me

Warnings: None

Not proofread

Pairings: Pablo Gavi x f!reader

You were standing near the field, and 2 minutes were left of the game. The whistle finally blew, Barcelona won, again. You went over to the players with your camera crew looking for any players.

You wandered around with your gifted jersey woth number 6 on it from the club, you were a sports reporter and coming to matches wasn’t rare.

As you stood there for about 5 minutes you finally got a hold of someone, Gavi.

¡Hola Gavi! Felicidades por tú victoria de hoy y 3 goles de esté partido, ¿cómo te sientes? (Hello Gavi! Congratulations with your victory today and 3 goals this match, how are you feeling?)

¡Hola y muchas gracias bonita! ¡Los 3 goles fueron absolutamente increíbles, no me lo esperaba! (Hey and thank you so much beautiful! The 3 goales was completely fantastic had mever imagined me that).

¡Tan bueno! ¿Qué crees que te trajo esta suerte hoy? So good! What do you think gave you the luck today?

You looked Gavi in the eyes as it seemed like he pondered about your question and started to blush

Por supesto mi familia, por supuesto (My family, of course)

¡Que lindo! (How cute)

You turned to the camera and said your goodbyes, right as the camera turned off Gavi said

Quise decir que hoy eras mi amuleto de buena suerte (I meant that you were my good luck charm today)

You looked at Gavi in a mix of shock and admiration

¿Qué quieres decir con eso? (What do you mean by that?)

Lo qué quiero decir con eso es que eres hermosa (What I mean by that is that you’re beautiful)

Both of you started to blush heavily, he noticed this and decided to make a move on you

¿Tienes un marcador? (Do you have a marker?)

Si, aquí (Yes, here)

Quitate eso. (Take that off.)

He pointed at my barcelona jersey. You were shocked by the bold statement, as you took your jersey off, he took his off. The compression sweater fitting his body perfectly, which displayed his abs to the point where you could stare at them for hours.

Déjame firmártelo (Let me sign it for you)

Oh, muchas gracias Gavi (Oh, thank you so much Gavi)

What you didn’t know he didn’t just sign it, but on the inside of the jersey he wrote his number, he gave you his jersey and winked at you saying

Te espero en mi próximo juego hermosa (I expect you at my next game beautiful) he said and walked off

You put his jersey on and now you were a blushing mess, you went straight home and decided to take a shower, but as you took the jersey off it went inside out as you notched the black marker stains, as you studied it closer you saw a number, shocked you sent messages to the unkown number.

Unkown number

Hola, ¿quién es? (hello, who’s this?)

Soy Gavi, ¿no me recuerdas? (it’s Gavi, don’t ou remember me?)

Calro que sí, pero no sabía que eras tú quien escribió el número en la camiseta (Of course, but I didn’t know it was you who wrote the number on my tshirts)

Fui yo😉 (It was me)

¿Para qué quieres mi número en realidad? (What do you need my number for actually?)

Para invitarte a salir en una cita… (To ask you out on a date…)

¿Así que me estás invitando a salir ahora? (So you’re asking me out on a date now?)

Sí, eso estoy haciendo. ¿Mañana a las 17:00 te parece bien? (Yes, I am. Tomorrow at 17:00?)

Me parece perfecto🫶🏼 (Works for me)

Nos vemos entonces🥰 (See you then)

*Phone number saved as Gavi🫶🏼*

A/N: It’s waaay over my bedtime now, first story out of the way! I hope you liked it, maybe a pt. 2 would be fun but we’ll see♥︎