maybe sth with Gavi where he's interviewed and talks sweetly about his girlfriend, who then teases him about it?
Summary: Gavi is interviewed after a match, revealing how much he admires and loves his girlfriend. She later takes full advantage of this and teases him relentlessly.
Note: It’s been a while since I’ve written anything for Pablo, and I’ve had this request in my inbox for a long time, so I decided to finally do something about it. Hope you guys like it! 🤍
The soft morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting the room in warm, golden hues.
I stirred awake slowly, stretching my limbs under the cozy blankets.
Beside me, Pablo was still sound asleep, his face half-buried in the pillow.
His tousled hair, messy from sleep, caught the morning light in a way that made my heart swell.
I turned onto my side, propping myself up on one elbow to take in the sight of him.
Peaceful and boyish, his features relaxed in a way I rarely saw during the day.
It was moments like this when he looked completely unguarded, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Pablo,” I whispered, my fingers lightly brushing against his cheek. He didn’t stir.
“Cariño,” I tried again, this time pressing a kiss to his temple.
A soft groan escaped his lips, and he shifted slightly, but his eyes remained shut.
“No,” he mumbled, his voice thick and gravelly with sleep.
“You said that yesterday,” I teased, tracing small patterns on his bare shoulder.
“And the day before that. But today’s important, remember? Match day?”
He groaned louder this time, pulling the blanket over his head like a child trying to block out the world.
“Don’t care. Stay here with me.”
I laughed softly, leaning closer to whisper in his ear.
“If you don’t get up, I’ll tell your coach you’re skipping breakfast because you wanted extra sleep. I’m sure he’d love that.”
That got his attention. The blanket lowered slightly, revealing one squinted eye.
“You fight dirty,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a lazy smile.
“Whatever works,” I replied, pressing a kiss to his nose before slipping out of bed.
As I padded over to the closet to grab my robe, I heard a muffled complaint from behind me.
“You’re leaving me? Traitor.”
I turned back to find him sprawled dramatically across the bed, one arm thrown over his face.
“You’re insufferable,” I said, rolling my eyes playfully.
“And yet, you love me,” he retorted, his grin widening.
“Unfortunately I do” I shot back, though my tone was filled with affection.
By the time Pablo had finally dragged himself out of bed, I was already in the kitchen.
The smell of coffee filled the air, and the sound of eggs sizzling in the pan added a comforting backdrop to the morning.
I was focused on flipping the eggs when a pair of familiar arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
“Buenos días, guapa,” he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep.
“Pablo,” I said, trying to wriggle free. “I’m cooking. Let me go before you make me burn something.”
“No,” he said simply, tightening his hold. “This is better.”
“You’re impossible,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
He hummed in agreement, resting his chin on my shoulder as he watched me work.
“You smell nice,” he commented, nuzzling his nose into my neck.
“Pablo!” I scolded, trying to maintain my focus. “Breakfast first, cuddles later.”
He sighed dramatically, finally releasing me. “Fine. But only because I’m starving.”
As we sat down to eat, his playful side gave way to something softer.
He reached across the table, lacing his fingers with mine as we ate in comfortable silence.
“Thank you,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but sincere.
“For what?” I asked, looking up at him.
“For everything,” he replied. “For making mornings like this feel special.”
I squeezed his hand, a warm smile spreading across my face. “You’re welcome. But don’t forget, you owe me cuddles after this.”
Pablo stood by the door, his training bag slung over one shoulder, looking every bit like a sulking child.
His bottom lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout, and his brows furrowed as he fixed me with those dark, soulful eyes.
“Are you sure you can’t come today?” he asked, his voice carrying a mix of disappointment and hope.
I sighed, walking over to where he stood. “I wish I could, Pablo, really. But I have back-to-back classes, and if I miss today, I’ll fall behind.”
His frown deepened, and he leaned his weight against the doorframe, letting his bag slide to the floor.
“It’s not the same without you there,” he mumbled, looking down at his feet.
I softened at his words, my heart tugging at him wanting me at his match.
I wasn't used to seeing Pablo this clingy and soft. Don't get me wrong he loves to show his affection but with limits, but today it seemed like he didn't care.
Stepping closer, I placed my hands on either side of his face, tilting his head up to meet my gaze.
“I know, cariño. But I’ll still be watching, and I’ll be cheering for you just as loud from here.”
“It’s not the same,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time.
His arms slipped around my waist, holding me like he was afraid to let go.
I leaned in, resting my forehead against his.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. When you come home tonight, I’ll be waiting right here, ready to hear all about how you smashed it on the field.”
He sighed, his breath warm against my skin. “I don’t care about the match as much as I care about you being there.”
My chest ached at his honesty, and I cupped his face, brushing my thumbs gently across his cheeks.
“We both know how much football means to you." I started,
"And, you know how proud I am of you, right? Whether I’m in the stands or miles away, it doesn’t change how much I believe in you.”
His eyes softened, and the pout faded slightly, replaced by a small, reluctant smile.
“You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead.
“You deserve it,” I said, standing on my toes to kiss him properly.
His lips lingered on mine, warm and tender, as though he was trying to store the moment for later.
When we finally pulled apart, I rested my hands on his chest.
“Now go. You’re going to be late.”
He groaned, his arms tightening around me for one last hug. “I don’t want to leave.”
I laughed softly, smoothing the back of his hair. “Go, you big baby!”
He nodded, finally pulling back, though his hands lingered on my waist. “Only if you promise to text me during your break.”
“Deal,” I said, giving him a playful nudge toward the door.
He grabbed his bag, opening the door before adding some final words.
“I love you,” he said, his voice filled with emotion.
“I love you too,” I replied, my heart swelling as I watched him leave.
As the door clicked shut behind him, I sighed, already missing his presence.
But I knew the day would pass quickly, and soon enough, he’d be back, wrapping me in his arms like he never wanted to let go.
The roar of the Camp Nou crowd echoed around Pablo as he stood on the field, catching his breath.
The final whistle had blown, sealing their 3-1 victory. Pablo had scored the second goal, and the adrenaline of the match still coursed through his veins.
As he wiped the sweat from his brow, he reached for his phone, seeing a message from his girlfriend waiting for him:
So proud of you, mi amor. You were amazing.
A smile tugged at his lips as he read her words, the warmth in his chest competing with the thrill of the win.
Pocketing his phone, he walked toward the media area, his enthusiasm dampened slightly.
Interviews were his least favorite part of game day, but they were a necessary routine.
The reporter greeted him with a bright smile, microphone in hand.
“Pablo, congratulations on the win! You played an incredible game, especially that goal in the second half. How are you feeling right now?”
“Thank you,” he replied, running a hand through his damp hair.
“I feel great. It’s always a good feeling to win, especially in front of our fans at Camp Nou. The whole team worked hard, and it’s nice to see that pay off.”
The questions followed in rapid succession, match tactics, team strategy, his thoughts on the opponents.
Pablo answered each one quickly, his eyes occasionally darting toward the locker room. The sooner he was done, the better.
Then, the interviewer shifted gears, her expression softening.
“One last question, Pablo. Your passion on the field is undeniable. Off the field, who inspires or supports you the most?”
He paused, a small smile creeping onto his face. Without hesitation, his thoughts turned to Y/n.
“Honestly? My girlfriend,” he admitted, his voice steady but filled with emotion.
“She’s my biggest supporter. She’s always there for me, no matter what.”
The interviewer’s smile widened. “That’s so sweet! What’s the most important thing she’s taught you?”
Pablo chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“She’s taught me to stay grounded, to never forget where I came from. And… to believe in myself when things get tough. She’s my anchor.”
“That’s beautiful, Pablo. I’m sure she’s very proud of you.”
“I hope so,” he said, a shy grin breaking across his face.
The interviewer thanked him, wrapping up the segment.
Pablo quickly left the media area, relieved to be done, and ready to go home.
As Pablo stepped into the locker room, the sound of Pedri’s loud laughter greeted him.
His teammate stood by his locker, already half-changed and clearly up to something.
“Whipped!” Pedri called out, pointing at Pablo with a mischievous grin.
“What?” Pablo asked, feigning innocence as he tossed his bag onto the bench.
“Oh, come on hermano,” Pedri continued, strolling over.
“I was right there waiting for my turn to take the interview after you, and you were all ‘My girlfriend this, my girlfriend that.’ It was disgustingly sweet, really.”
“Shut up,” Pablo muttered, the heat rising to his cheeks.
Pedri wasn’t done. “I think everyone deserves to hear this,” he said, turning to the rest of the locker room.
“Guys, did you know Gavi can’t stop talking about his girlfriend? She’s his anchor, his biggest supporter. Isn’t that cute?”
The room erupted in laughter and playful jeers.
“Aww, little Gavi’s in love!” Ferran teased, winking.
“How does it feel to be whipped, hermano?” Balde chimed in, smirking from his corner.
Pablo groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate all of you.”
Pedri threw an arm around his shoulders, grinning.
“Don’t be shy, Pablo. We’re happy for you. Truly. But don’t think we’re letting this go anytime soon.”
Pablo glared halfheartedly at his friend before pulling away. “I’ll shut you all up at training, so watch your backs,” he retorted, smirking.
“Sure, sure,” Pedri said, his laughter following Pablo as he headed for the showers.
I was sitting across from my friend at a café, enjoying a much-needed lunch break.
She scrolled through her phone while I finished my sandwich, her eyes suddenly lighting up.
“I didn’t know your boyfriend was such a romantic person,” she said, smirking at me.
I blinked at her, confused. “What are you talking about?”
She turned her phone around, showing me a tiny clip of Pablo’s interview.
My heart skipped a beat as I watched him speak so earnestly about me, his voice filled with affection.
I covered my mouth, a mix of embarrassment and pride washing over me. “He said that?”
“Every word,” she said, grinning. “You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, girl.”
I couldn’t stop smiling as I replayed the clip in my mind.
After we finished eating, I hurried to my car and pulled out my phone to watch the full interview again, too impatient to wait until I got home.
Hearing Pablo talk about me so openly, with so much love, made my heart feel like it might burst.
I felt like a teenager whose crush just gave her attention, all over again.
The sound of the door opening pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced up from the couch, where I had been absentmindedly scrolling through my phone.
I caught a glance of Pablo stepping inside.
His shirt was still damp from his post-game shower, and his eyes lit up as soon as he saw me sitting there.
Without a second’s hesitation, he dropped his bag to the floor, his steps purposeful as he made his way toward me.
Before I could even react, he scooped me up into his arms, spinning me around with a soft laugh.
“Pablo!” I gasped, gripping his shoulders to keep from slipping. Wondering where he still got the energy from after his match.
“You have no idea how much I missed you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my cheek as he held me close.
“You saw me this morning,” I teased, trying to contain the laughter that bubbled up in my chest.
“And it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, ignoring my playful protests. “Feels like forever.”
I could hear the faintest hint of a pout in his voice, and it made my heart flutter.
I loved how much he missed me, even though we had only been apart for a few hours. It made me feel loved, seen, and cared about.
He set me down gently, but still kept his arms wrapped around me as if he didn’t want to let go.
I smiled up at him, loving the way his warmth enveloped me.
“You’re dramatic,” I said, my voice full of affection.
“And you love me for it,” he replied, flashing me that dimpled grin of his that always made my stomach do flips.
I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
“You’re lucky I do,” I said, pressing my lips to his cheek briefly. “Now sit down before you make me late with dinner.”
“Oh, dinner!” he said, suddenly alert, as if he’d forgotten about it.
“I’m starving. What’s for—”
“You’re not starving,” I interrupted with a grin, nudging him toward the couch.
“You’re just looking for an excuse to not help in the kitchen.”
He sat down next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer.
“Guilty,” he said, his voice playful as he leaned in and kissed the top of my head. “But can you blame me? I’ve missed you all day.”
I nestled into him, letting myself relax as I sighed softly. “It’s good to have you home.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to my hair and then started telling me about the match, the atmosphere in the stadium, how the crowd had been absolutely electric, and how the team had all worked together to get the win.
He was glowing with excitement, and it made me smile to see him so happy.
“And the goal?” I asked, my voice teasing as I nudged him with my shoulder. “How was that?”
“Perfect,” he said, a little too smug for my liking, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m sure it was,” I replied dryly, knowing how modest he was when it came to his performance on the field.
“Actually, it was,” he said with a grin, leaning closer to whisper in my ear.
“I couldn’t have done it without the team, of course. But the goal? Pure magic.”
I laughed at his confidence, shaking my head.
“Okay, okay. I believe you, superstar.”
Pablo’s hand found mine, and he squeezed it gently, his fingers intertwining with mine as he continued to recount the game.
I loved hearing him talk about football; there was such a passion in his voice that I couldn’t help but get caught up in it, too.
As the evening went on, the conversation naturally shifted.
He started asking about my day, how my classes went, and if anything exciting had happened.
I told him everything, how I was buried in assignments but that my afternoon had gotten better once I saw the match result.
“Did you see that interview?” I asked, looking up at him with a teasing smile.
His brow furrowed immediately. “What interview?” he asked, though his voice betrayed a hint of nervousness.
I raised an eyebrow, unable to hide the smirk.
“Oh, nothing. Just a little something I saw on my lunch break. A certain football player was talking about his girlfriend.”
Pablo’s face went red in an instant. “You saw that?”
His eyes widened, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Of course I saw it,” I teased, leaning in closer to him, my voice low.
“I was wondering when you’d start gushing about me publicly.”
He groaned and buried his face in his hands, his cheeks turning even redder.
“I didn’t mean to... I just got asked about you, and... well, you know how it is.”
I grinned, unable to resist teasing him more.
“Oh, I know. You went on and on about how I’m your anchor. Very sweet, by the way.”
“You’re gonna hold that over my head, aren’t you?” he muttered, his hands still covering his face as he tried to hide his embarrassment.
“Of course I am,” I said, leaning forward and gently pulling his hands away.
“It was cute, Pablo. Honestly, I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I didn’t either,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
“But when they asked... it just came out.”
I smiled softly, brushing a stray piece of hair from his forehead. “I liked it,” I said, my voice quieter now.
“I think it’s really sweet that you care so much.”
Pablo sighed dramatically, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “Fine, fine. You win. You’re right. I guess I’m a little whipped.”
I leaned in and kissed him lightly, my lips lingering against his for a moment.
“I don’t mind,” I murmured against his lips. “You’re my favorite whipped guy.”
He laughed softly, wrapping his arms around me.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, pulling me closer so that we were wrapped in each other’s arms on the couch. “But only because it’s you.”
We stayed there for a while, the world outside our little bubble fading away as we simply enjoyed being in each other’s company.
Dinner being long forgotten.
The teasing slowed, replaced by soft moments of quiet affection as the evening stretched on.
And in that moment, with his arms around me, his heart beating steadily under my ear, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
