#pv18

[obvithe-bestsoph]

Can you do a Pau Victor x Reader (long term GF) fic where he takes her out on a date and she falls asleep on his shoulder while riding a cab back home 😄

head on his shoulder.

masterlist requests word count: 670

a/n: i need to write for pau v more often tbh genre: fluff. warnings: none.

summary: on the taxi ride home from a date, you fall asleep on pau's shoulder.

The evening started off perfectly. Pau had insisted you dress casually, so you went with your favorite jeans and a soft sweater, knowing he liked seeing you comfortable. The city was alive around you, lights flickering on shop windows and the faint hum of music from street performers floating through the air. Pau held your hand tightly as you walked down the busy avenue, his eyes always flicking to you with that small, satisfied smile that made your heart flutter every time.

He had planned the date weeks ago, insisting it would be something simple but special. Dinner at a small Italian place you had both loved since the first time he took you there, a walk along the waterfront afterward, and a little detour through the park where he had secretly set up a small picnic blanket and a thermos of hot chocolate. You teased him the entire way, making exaggerated comments about his planning skills, but secretly, you loved every second of it.

After the walk, he hailed a cab, insisting that you both go home together in comfort. You laughed at his insistence, leaning against him as he opened the door and helped you slide in. The cab ride started with the usual chatter, stories from the day, and plans for the week ahead. Pau had his arm around you, pulling you close. You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours.

The city lights blurred past the window, and the hum of the engine was almost hypnotic. Your eyelids grew heavy despite your attempts to stay awake, wanting to savor every moment of being with him. You felt him glance down at you, a soft smile spreading across his face, and you tried to fight the sleep creeping in.

"Are you tired, love?" he asked quietly, his voice low enough to make your heart skip a beat.

"A little," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You shifted closer, letting your head rest fully on his shoulder. He adjusted slightly, careful not to wake you, and wrapped his arm more securely around you.

He stayed silent after that, letting you drift off. The warmth of the cab, the sound of the city passing by, and his steady presence made sleep feel inevitable. You murmured something incoherent in your sleep, and he chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"You really do this to me," he whispered to himself, though there was no annoyance in his voice. Just a soft, affectionate amusement that made you smile in your sleep.

The cab continued along the quiet streets, and Pau kept glancing at you, marveling at how peaceful you looked. Your breathing evened out, and you sank further into him. He could feel the small weight of your body leaning against his, and it was a feeling he never wanted to let go of.

"Almost home," he murmured, careful not to disturb your sleep.

When the cab finally pulled up outside your apartment, he hesitated, not wanting to wake you, but gently nudged your shoulder. You stirred slightly, mumbling his name, but didn’t fully wake. He smiled at the sound and scooped you up in his arms without protest, carrying you into your place.

Once inside, he set you on the couch with a soft blanket draped over you. You murmured a sleepy thank you, barely opening your eyes before drifting back to sleep. Pau stood for a moment, watching you, his heart swelling.

"This is exactly why I love you," he whispered, leaning down to place a light kiss on your forehead. "Even when you fall asleep on me, you make everything feel right."

He stayed by your side for a little while, just watching you sleep peacefully, feeling like the luckiest person alive. Then, quietly, he slipped out to the kitchen to grab some water for himself, still grinning, knowing that tonight had been one of those simple, perfect nights you would both remember forever.

[modamexblog]

V A L A D E Z

El regreso de la marca mexicana Valadez, viene con su colección cápsula P/V 18, la cual está inspirada en la reflexión de 'si nos estamos uniendo o desconstruyendo como humanidad', un cuestionamiento total de la vida moderna. Esta antología cuenta con la colaboración de la artista Silvana Di Blasi, quien realizó todos los accesorios en cerámica. Las fotografías del lookbook fueron tomadas en Milán, por la fotógrafa italiana Ilaria Taschini. Cabe destacar que algunas de las piezas de esta nueva colección las puedes ver en las nuevas ediciones de Marie Claire, Caras México y Red Carpet Club. Para informes pueden enviar un mail a [email protected] o un mensaje directo a su cuenta de instagram @valadezofficial. En foto: @ValadezOfficial - PV18 Modelo: @OliMarcinkiewcz@Monster_Mgmt Fotógrafa: @IlariaTaschiniPhotography Accesorios: @DiBlasi_Art

[obvithe-bestsoph]

your pau victor fic is so good!! can i request one where his girlfriend (reader) is a shy person but pau lovesss pda and posting her on socials. he's private but in a way he likes to show her off? she just seems a bit hesitant but she doesnt mind it (of course pau reassures and asks if shes ok with it) hehe make it fluffyyyy thank you in advance!!

lowkey loud about you.

masterlist requests word count: 598

a/n: idk how i feel about this one lowk. also guys pls more pau victor requests 🙏🙏 genre: fluff warnings: none.

summary: you’re quiet and private, but pau víctor is loud about how much he loves you - and he's not afraid to let the world know.

You don’t mind holding Pau’s hand. It’s warm, familiar, something that makes you feel a little less like you're standing under a spotlight every time you're out with him. But you definitely notice how other people notice. And Pau… well. Pau just doesn’t seem to care.

In fact, he’s smiling more when they look.

You squeeze his hand a little tighter and glance up at him. He’s already looking at you like you hung the moon.

“You okay?” he asks softly, voice low enough that no one else hears it but you.

You nod. “Yeah. Just… people staring.”

Pau tilts his head, stopping just before the café entrance. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that.” You try to explain, shrugging a little. “I’m not used to being seen, I guess. Not like this.”

He brings your joined hands up and presses a kiss to the back of your fingers, right there on the street. You flush instantly.

“You’re mine. They’re just jealous,” he says with a wink, before pulling open the door.

You let yourself laugh, even if your face is on fire.

It’s not like Pau’s famous-famous. Not like Ferran or Pedri or anyone from the first team. But he’s Barcelona famous, and you know that means a lot of eyes on his Instagram.

Especially when he posts you.

It started off with little things. A photo of your hand holding a flower. A blurry story post of you on the couch in his hoodie, face mostly hidden. But lately? He’s been getting bolder. Tagging you. Using the heart-eye emoji. Full pics of you smiling up at him like you don’t know you’re being photographed.

You never asked him to stop.

But you never told him you liked it, either.

You’re curled up in his room, knees tucked to your chest, while Pau edits a photo on his phone. His head is tilted in concentration, brows pulled together.

“What are you doing?” you ask, not really expecting a full answer.

“Choosing between Valencia filter or Oslo.”

“…For what?”

He grins. “This one.” He flips the phone to show you. It’s the picture he took earlier, you had just finished eating and were laughing at something dumb he said, hand over your mouth and eyes scrunched shut.

“You really like posting me, huh?” you say, mostly joking.

Pau shrugs, setting the phone down and shifting so he’s facing you. “Yeah. Of course I do.”

You blink. “Why?”

“Because you’re mine,” he says, tone light, but eyes serious. “And I like the way you look at me. I like remembering it. I like that people know I’ve got someone like you.”

You hide your face in your hands, immediately shy.

“Hey,” he says gently, pulling your wrists away so he can see your expression. “Too much?”

“No,” you admit. “I just don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

“Why you’d want to show me off.”

His smile softens. “You know I’m private, right? I don’t post a lot. Don’t talk much in interviews. I’m not like some of the other guys.”

You nod slowly.

“But you? I want people to know about you. Not because I’m showing off like ‘look what I have.’ More like… look who I love.” He says the word so easily it makes your heart squeeze. “That’s different.”

You stare at him, completely undone.

He nudges your foot with his. “If it ever makes you uncomfortable, you just have to say. I’ll stop. No pressure. You never need to do anything that feels too loud for you.”

“…It doesn’t make me uncomfortable,” you whisper.

He smiles. “No?”

You shake your head. “It just… surprises me. I’m used to being invisible.”

“Well,” he says, scooting closer until your knees touch. “You’re not invisible to me. You walk in a room, and I forget anyone else is even there.”

You’re pretty sure your heart’s gonna combust.

“I’ll post it if you’re okay with it,” he adds. “But if you want me to keep it for just us, that’s fine too.”

You hesitate for a second. Then: “Post it.”

Pau’s face lights up. Not in a smug way. In a tender way. He leans in, cups your cheek, and kisses your forehead.

“You’re my favorite person,” he murmurs against your skin.

You mumble something about being a puddle of goo, and he laughs so hard he nearly drops his phone.

The post goes up an hour later. The caption just says, what did i do to deserve this. There’s a little heart next to it. Not the red one. The white one, the soft one he always sends you on WhatsApp when he’s half-asleep.

You scroll through the comments, wide-eyed. Most of them are sweet. A few people joking about how "Pau’s the softest boyfriend ever." One or two nosey ones asking if it’s “finally official.” Some hearts. Some “favourite wag.”

And you feel… okay.

Actually, you feel happy.

Later that night, when you’re half-asleep on his chest, Pau scrolls through his tagged photos and finds the edit someone made. It’s the photo of you laughing, overlayed with sparkles and a caption in cursive font that says Pau and his girlfriend <3.

He shows it to you.

You laugh so hard you snort, and Pau just looks at you with this open-mouthed grin, like he’s seeing something brand new again for the first time.

“I should make that my lockscreen,” he jokes.

“You wouldn’t,” you challenge.

He holds up his phone. “Bet.”

You groan into his hoodie, hiding your face. “You’re such a simp.”

“Guilty.”

You peek up at him. “I really don’t mind it, you know. You being all… public.”

“I know.” He kisses your temple. “And I’ll keep checking in. Always.”

Because loving Pau means learning that being seen doesn’t have to mean being exposed. It can mean being celebrated. Cherished. Chosen - again and again, in a hundred little ways.

And with him?

You’re okay with that.

[obvithe-bestsoph]

here with another pauvic request cos he deserves more love 🤞 a fluffy backstory about how he always wraps his hand/arm before a match, because his s/o was the one who initially wrapped it for him and always gives a kiss to the wrapped hand afterwards

not sure if this makes sense lmao but it felt cute in my head 😭

wrapped in love.

masterlist requests word count: 880

a/n: i love writing for him bro genre: fluff. warnings: none.

summary: you were the first one to ever wrap pau’s hand before a match, sealing it with a kiss as a joke. now, it’s a ritual, he wraps it the exact same way every time and still kisses it if you’re not around to. it’s never really been about the tape. it’s always been about you.

 wrapped in luck.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You never expected a roll of sports tape and a half-joking routine to turn into a full-on pre-match superstition. But here you are, years down the line, watching Pau Víctor jog onto the pitch with his right hand wrapped the exact way you taught him. The tape is snug, firm, and unmistakably kissed, just like always.

It started in the dumbest way, honestly. He’d been rushing before a match when you were both just teenagers, digging through his bag for that same tape, swearing he’d packed it but somehow managing to misplace it. You were sitting on the floor of his bedroom, legs crisscrossed, fiddling with a granola bar wrapper, when he let out a groan loud enough to shake the shelves.

“Did you eat my tape too?” he muttered, clearly panicking.

You held back a laugh, tossing him a roll from your gym bag instead. “Relax, athlete of the year. I’ve got some.”

“Thank god. My wrist’s been feeling weird this week.”

You motioned him over, wiggling your fingers. “Sit. I’ll do it.”

He blinked. “You know how?”

You shrugged. “I watched you do it like, a hundred times. Plus, I googled it once. I think I can manage.”

So he sat cross-legged in front of you, palm extended. There was a quiet kind of trust in the way he let you handle him. You started slow, gently pressing into the heel of his hand, layering the tape in careful loops.

He kept watching your face instead of your hands, something that made you very aware of the closeness between you.

“Why are you staring?” you asked.

“Because you’re doing this like you’ve been waiting your whole life to wrap my wrist.”

You grinned, pressing the tape a little firmer than needed. “Shut up.”

When you finished, you leaned in impulsively and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. The moment was soft, instinctive, nothing dramatic. But he froze like you’d done something monumental.

You didn’t mean to start a thing. But that’s exactly what it became.

From that day on, if you were there, you wrapped his wrist. Always the right hand. Always the same tape if you had it on hand. Always sealed with a kiss to the bandaged skin before he stepped out. You called it “good luck.” He never argued.

Even when you couldn’t be at a match, you left him reminders. You’d scribble “don’t forget the kiss” on sticky notes and tuck them into his bag. Once, you even sent a voice note saying, “Wrap it tight, Víctor. And yes, that includes the kiss.”

He’d never admit it to the guys, but he always kissed it himself when you weren’t around. Right there in the locker room, in front of a mirror, with his heart thudding against his ribs. It wasn’t about the tape. It was about you. The way you made him feel anchored before he went into chaos. The quiet way you reminded him he wasn’t alone out there.

One day, he let it slip.

It was after a win. He had scored. Big crowd. Big night. He had that grin on his face, the one that only came when everything clicked on the field. A reporter pulled him aside, pointed out the tape.

“You’ve worn that on your right hand every match. Is it for support, or-?”

“It’s luck,” he said without thinking. “My girl wrapped it for me once and kissed it. Haven’t played without it since.”

Cue the chorus of “aww” from the internet. But you didn’t mind. It was true. And kind of sweet, actually.

Now it’s routine.

You sit with him before matches, tape in your hands, legs draped over his lap. He doesn’t talk much during the wrapping anymore. Just watches you quietly, the way he always has, his fingers curling slightly like he doesn’t want to let go once it’s done.

“You good?” you ask every time, smoothing the end of the tape into place.

He nods. “Better now.”

You kiss the back of his hand, like always. And that’s it. Magic. Protection. Love, all bundled into a three-second moment.

Sometimes, when the night’s quieter and neither of you can sleep, you joke about it.

“Can’t believe I started your pre-match ritual with one kiss,” you say, your head resting on his chest.

“Can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t cling to it like my life depends on it.”

He says it with a smile, but there’s a certain weight behind it. Like it really does mean that much.

The truth is, Pau isn’t a superstitious person by nature. He doesn’t carry lucky socks or say the same thing before stepping on the field. But you? You’ve become part of his rhythm. His calm before the storm.

And the tape?

That’s just the symbol.

He’ll keep wrapping it that way, even if it’s a decade from now and his hair’s a little thinner, his legs a little slower. He’ll still be there, rolling out the tape, thinking about the way your hands moved. The way your lips brushed his skin. The way you believed in him before he ever believed in himself.

Some things are worth holding onto.

And for Pau Víctor, the luck’s never been in the tape.

It’s always been in you.

[obvithe-bestsoph]

hiiii i hope you're doing great!!! i just wanted to kindly request a Pau Victor fic where reader she's doing her phD in Physics and she has exams coming up soo she's just SUPER DUPER tired and Pau is there for her. Like cooking her favorite meals, making her coffee, waking her up in the morning so she can study. SORRY SO BEING SO DETAILED. it's ok if you can't write it due to any reasons. thank you dear and have a nice day or evening ahead

<3

"smartest person i know."

masterlist requests word count: 1097

a/n: really loved writing this because it's currently exam season for me too lol genre: fluff. warnings: none.

summary: pau takes extra good care of you during exam season.

The first time you realized Pau had gone full-on extra for you, it was Monday morning, and you had barely opened your eyes. The soft sunlight filtered through your curtains, and there was the faint smell of freshly brewed coffee. You blinked, groaning, and turned your head to see him sitting on the edge of your bed, balancing a tray.

"Morning," he said, his smile lazy but full of warmth. "I brought you fuel."

You squinted at the tray. There was a steaming cup of coffee, your favorite breakfast sandwich, and a small note folded neatly. You reached for the note first, still too sleepy to process anything else.

You got this. I believe in you. Pau

You blinked a few times, unsure if you were still dreaming. "You… made this for me?" you croaked, voice raspy from sleep.

He chuckled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I did. Thought you could use some support before that three-hour exam today."

Your stomach twisted in a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. You had been so buried in your PhD work that sometimes it felt like Pau barely saw you, but clearly he had noticed. And here he was, showing up without a word, taking care of you in the smallest, most thoughtful ways.

By the time you had wolfed down half the sandwich, you were feeling a little more human. Pau poured another cup of coffee and sat next to you, letting his presence calm your frazzled mind. "Okay," he said seriously, "let’s make a deal. I wake you up early every morning this week, bring you breakfast, and you crush your exams. Deal?"

You laughed softly, the first real laugh of the day. "Deal," you said, feeling your eyelids flutter. "You’re ridiculous, you know that?"

"And I’m proud of it," he replied with a grin.

Over the next few days, Pau’s support became almost ritualistic. Each morning, your alarm blared, but before you could even curse it, he would be there, shaking your shoulder gently with a soft, "Time to rise, genius." You would groan, bury your face in the pillow, and somehow, his calm presence would make it easier to leave the warmth of your bed.

Breakfasts varied. Sometimes it was a sandwich, other times a bowl of oatmeal with your favorite fruit, and occasionally, when he was feeling ambitious, pancakes shaped like little hearts. You always protested at first, insisting that you didn’t need all the fuss, but his insistence won out. "Your brain needs fuel," he said, setting the tray in front of you with a determined look.

Afternoons were a blur of textbooks, notes, and scribbled equations. Pau would sneak in quietly, making himself useful without disturbing your flow. He would wash the dishes you had forgotten from breakfast, refill your water bottle, and occasionally hand you a mug of coffee when he caught you looking a little too exhausted.

One evening, you barely managed to sit up straight at your desk, your eyes red from hours of reading research papers. Pau noticed the slump in your shoulders immediately and came to your side, gently pulling your chair back so you could lean against him. "You need a break," he said softly. "Just ten minutes."

You shook your head, murmuring, "I have too much to do."

"Doesn’t matter," he replied, draping his arm around your shoulders. "Your brain is fried. Ten minutes on my lap. No negotiating."

Ten minutes turned into thirty. You ended up napping there, Pau’s steady heartbeat calming you more effectively than any caffeine or sugar ever could. When you woke, he was still holding you, gently brushing your hair back, his eyes soft with worry and care. "Feeling better?"

"A little," you admitted, resting your head against his chest. "Thanks."

He smiled. "Always."

By the time your exams rolled around, Pau had practically become a personal assistant. He would remind you of schedules, pack little snacks for study breaks, and leave encouraging sticky notes in your textbooks. You caught yourself laughing more than stressing whenever he was around, even if it was just him making funny faces to keep your mood up.

The night before your final exam, you collapsed onto the couch in utter exhaustion. Pau appeared with a blanket, some tea, and a tired but triumphant grin. "You’ve done everything you can," he said. "Now it’s time to rest. Tomorrow, you’ll crush it."

"But I’m not ready," you whispered, staring at the floor.

He knelt in front of you, tilting your chin up gently. "You are. You’ve worked your butt off, and you’re the smartest person I know. The exams don’t stand a chance."

His words were like a balm. You let yourself sink into the comfort of his presence, feeling your stress melt away. "I don’t know what I’d do without you," you admitted.

"Then don’t ever find out," he replied softly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

Exam week ended, and you emerged tired but victorious. Pau celebrated quietly, knowing you didn’t need a big fuss. He did, however, bring your favorite ice cream and a small bouquet of flowers. You collapsed onto the couch, still in your study clothes, and he wrapped an arm around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"You did it," he said simply.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the past week finally lifting. "We did it," you corrected, letting a small laugh escape. "I couldn’t have done this without you."

"And I never want you to," he replied, tightening his hold.

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling safe and cherished. He whispered little words of pride and love into your ear, his warmth making the room feel cozy despite the lingering exhaustion. You stayed like that for hours, simply enjoying the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

Later, as you finally made it to your bed, Pau tucked the blanket around you, kissed your forehead once more, and whispered, "Sleep well. Tomorrow is a new day, but tonight is all about you."

You closed your eyes, letting the fatigue finally take over. You dreamed of him making breakfast in the morning, of soft coffee aromas, and quiet moments that felt like home. Pau had not just helped you survive your exams; he had made every moment leading up to them feel like love in motion, steady and unwavering.

And as you drifted off, you knew with certainty that this was the kind of support, the kind of love, you would carry with you forever.

[obvithe-bestsoph]

could you write about pau victor? it can be anything, he’s just really underrated 💚

sunburt, but in love.

masterlist requests word count: 598

a/n: calling it a 'cooler' gave me the ick, but i won't subject you all to my new zealand slang 😭 genre: fluff warnings: none.

summary: a sunny offseason holiday with pau.

The sound of waves crashing is faint beneath the music humming from the portable speaker perched on a chair. There’s a breeze, salty and warm, ruffling the umbrella above you and tugging at Pau’s messy curls where his head is resting on your stomach.

He’s half asleep, stretched out between your legs with a lazy arm draped over your thigh, skin golden and sun-kissed. His back is sticky with sunscreen and a little sand. You told him to rinse off, but he just gave you a sleepy grin and flopped back down like a human starfish.

You card your fingers through his hair, feeling him shift against you with a contented sigh. “You good?” you ask softly, not wanting to disturb the peace.

He hums, low and sleepy. “Mmm. Perfect.” Then, after a second, “Except my back’s itchy.”

“You’re literally lying on sand.”

“You said this towel was sand-proof.”

You smile. “Yeah, the towel. Not your entire body, Pau.”

He cracks one eye open and looks up at you like you’ve offended him personally. “That feels like false advertising.”

You laugh, dragging your nails lightly across his scalp. “Shut up and go back to sleep.”

His lashes flutter, but he doesn’t close his eyes again. “Why would I sleep when you’re here looking this pretty?”

You squint at him. “You’ve been asleep for the past hour.”

“That was before I remembered how in love with you I am,” he says, so smug it makes you roll your eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”

He kisses the inside of your thigh, soft and warm. “You love it.”

You don’t answer, because yeah. You do.

You lean back into the lounge chair and take a moment to really look at where you are. The beach is quiet, tucked away and mostly empty. The air smells like salt and sunscreen and Pau’s coconut shampoo. Your bag is half open and full of snacks. His sunglasses are resting crookedly on your ankle. Your shared water bottle is tipped over in the sand.

And Pau is exactly where he wants to be, totally sprawled out with his bare chest rising and falling slowly against your body.

“Do you think it’ll always be like this?” you ask quietly, more to yourself than to him.

He doesn’t miss a beat. “It better be.”

You glance down. “Yeah?”

He looks up at you, expression soft and open. “This. You. Me. Summer and the beach and stupid sand in our food and you rubbing sunscreen on my ears. I want all of it. All the time.”

You smile, unable to help it. “Even the part where I woke you up at 6 AM to get here early and you nearly tripped over the cooler?”

He groans dramatically. “That was your fault. Who keeps the cooler in the bathroom?”

“It was temporary.”

“It was sabotage.”

You poke his side. “You’re such a baby.”

“And yet,” he says, pulling your hand down to kiss your knuckles, “you love me.”

“Tragically.”

He grins against your skin, then sits up a little so he can shift around and settle beside you, his arm coming to curl around your waist like it’s second nature. His skin is hot from the sun, his face still flushed, and he smells like aloe vera and lemon chips.

You tuck yourself into his side and rest your head on his shoulder. “This is nice,” you say, voice muffled.

He presses his lips to your hair. “It’s the best.”

You sit in comfortable silence for a while. The sun dips lower. The tide comes in just a little closer. In the distance, some kid is crying about a seagull stealing their sandwich, and Pau makes a soft, amused noise in his chest.

“What’re you thinking about?” you murmur.

“Just that I want more of this.”

“Beach days?”

“Yeah. And not having to be anywhere. Not having to think about anything but which flavor of popsicle we’re gonna get at the store later.”

“I already told you, watermelon.”

“And I said mango,” he says with a fake sigh. “Clearly we’re a doomed couple.”

You grin. “Guess we’ll have to break up.”

“Oh no,” he says flatly, brushing a thumb over your hip, “whatever will I do without your horrible taste in popsicles and excellent taste in boyfriends?”

You snort. “You’re so full of it.”

“You love that, too.”

You tilt your head back to look at him, shielding your eyes with one hand. “Yeah,” you say simply. “I do.”

Pau’s face goes soft again. He leans in and kisses you, slow and sweet, not a lot of pressure, just enough to let you feel how much he means it. You taste salt and coconut. You feel him smile into your lips.

When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his. “You’re going to get sunburned.”

“Worth it,” he says without moving. “Also, I forgot to bring the aloe.”

“I brought two.”

He groans. “You’re such a good girlfriend.”

You pat his cheek. “I know.”

Another kiss. This time on your temple. “You’re the best part of this whole vacation, you know that?”

You grin, playful now. “Better than the ocean?”

“Yup.”

“Better than when that guy dropped his ice cream and blamed it on his dog?”

“The was hilarious,” he admits, “but still not as good as you.”

You twist in his arms and climb on top of him, gently pushing him back against the towel. He laughs, pulling you in close.

“You’re such a sap,” you say.

He grins up at you, cheeks pink. “And you’re stuck with me.”

“Tragically,” you echo again, teasing.

But you don’t move. You lay your head on his chest, listen to the slow, steady beat of his heart, and let the sun melt away the edges of your thoughts.

And in that moment, with Pau’s arms around you and the waves rolling in and the sky turning orange at the edges, you don’t care about the sand, or the popsicle argument, or even the seagull eyeballing your chips.

You just think, yeah. This is it.

[blogmodainfantil]

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[blogmodainfantil]

En el blog hablamos de una de las colecciones de baño que más han triunfado y es que ¿Qué tendrán las estrellas✨ que nos gustan tanto? El enlace en la bio . . . On the blog we write about one of the best-sellers swimwear collection. Why do we like stars✨ so much? Link in bio #finaejerique #modainfantil #kidswear #ss18 #pv18 #childrensfashionblog #childrensfashion #fashionkids #swimwear #modabaño