MY SHAYLA 💔🫂

Pablo Gavi (FCBarcelona) - Ugly Sweater

Day 25 of Christmas

Prompt: Ugly Sweater Contest

25 Days Of Christmas

Happy Christmas!

The camera zooms in on the bustling training ground of FC Barcelona. The players are gathered for a unique challenge, and the atmosphere is electric with excitement. Pablo Gavi and Y/n Y/l/n are at the center of it all, surrounded by an array of colorful fabric paints, glitters, and other crafting materials scattered across a large table. “Hola culers, I am Y/n Y/l/n, here with Pablo Gavi and we are here to see who can make the ugliest Christmas jumper.”

“Vamos, Y/n!” Pablo exclaims, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Who do you think is going to make the ugliest jumper?” Y/n rolls her eyes playfully, a grin spreading across her face. “Please, Pablo. You’re the king of ugly. I’m just here to help you look good for once”

“Yo y lo feo no deberíamos estar en la misma frase. A veces me sorprendes, Y/n.” He responds with a laugh, grabbing a neon green paint. “This is going to be epic!” Y/n couldn't help but laugh at the new word he learned just earlier that week: epic. As they dive into the challenge, they begin painting and glueing random materials onto their sweaters. Y/n grabs a handful of googly eyes, sticking them haphazardly all over her sweater. “Mira, Pablo. Un monstruo.” She declares, giggling. Pablo, not one to be outdone, quickly snatches a handful of bright pink feathers. “Ves esto? I’ll make a flamingo sweater. Que original.”

“Original? Creo que quieres decir horrible.” Y/n teases, sticking a paintbrush covered in blue paint into his hair. “Ese es el punto de este desafío, no?” The crew laughed behidn the camera as Pablo tried dodging the paint, but failing miserably. “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” Y/n laughed, not meaning to actually paint his hair. Pablo laughs, attempting to swipe the paint off his head but only making it worse. “You’re going to regret that, Y/n. Just wait until I win this challenge!”

As the clock counts down, they both put the finishing touches on their creations. Pablo, with a shirt that looks like a flamboyant bird’s nest, and Y/n, with a monstrous creation covered in eyes and glitter. “Okay, time’s up! Muestra tu suéter!” Yhe crew shouts, eager to see their creations. They step back, proudly displaying their sweaters. Pablo poses dramatically, striking a pose that makes the crew burst into laughter. “Mira esto! El más feo del mundo!” He declares. “More like the most ridiculous.” Y/n laughs, sticking her tongue out at him. They both turn to the camera, their playful rivalry shining through.

“Okay, final round is a catwalk.” Y/n says, glancing at Pablo with a mischievous glint in her eyes. As they both momentarily turned around to put their jumpers on, the crew let out a few quiet laughs. They counted down from 3 and turned to face eachother, looking one another up and down. Y/n hummed. “You know, it’s hard to have an ugly sweater when you have a face like that.” She gestures playfully at him, her words laced with flirtation. Pablo’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red, and the crew erupts in laughter. “No te rías de mí!” He protests, trying to hide his embarrassment. But his playful smile gives him away.

“Sorry, Pablito, but you really can’t help it.” Y/n adds, leaning closer as she pretends to inspect his sweater. “Qué dices? I’m handsome?” He grins, his blush deepens. “Pero, mi suéter es más feo.” Y/n scoffs. “Más feo? Have you seen mine?” Y/n raises an eyebrow, unable to contain her laughter. “I think you've lost this challenge, guapo.”

“Alright, alright! Let’s just let the viewers decide who’s the winner.” Pablo says, regaining his composure, but the smile never leaves his face. “But we both know it’s going to be me.”

wtaf actually no just meme pics 🫳

do you look at them..? @barcapix

❦ - one wrong digit.

summary:: joao wanted to call his ex, instead slipping up a digit leading to you. but was it really just a slip up?

warnings:: none! y/n mentioned tho

writers note:: RIGHT THIS IS MY RANG SPOT. how am i flopping this hard? excuse me. i’m lowkey gonna crash out i’ve fallen off and i haven’t even reached the height of my career yet?? also why is all of joaos delicious photos gotta be monotone bro step up! lmk if you want a part two of this.

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

you’re halfway through making a cup of tea when your phone rings. the number flashing on the screen isn’t saved in your contacts, but curiosity gets the best of you, and you swipe to answer.

‘hello?’

silence. then, a hesitant voice. ‘uh… hello?’

you frown. the guy on the other end sounds confused, almost unsure if he meant to call. ‘who’s this?’ you ask.

a pause. ‘i… uh… i was trying to call someone else.’

you let out a small laugh. ‘clearly.’

normally, you’d hang up. wrong numbers happen all the time. but something about his voice makes you linger, it’s deep yet soft, carrying a weight you can’t quite place.

‘who am i talking to?’ he asks, still hesitant.

‘you called me.’ you tease. ‘but since you’re curious, i’m y/n, and you?’

he hesitates, like he’s debating whether to tell you. ‘joão.’

‘nice to meet you, joão,’ you say, settling onto your couch. ‘you okay? you sounded kind of… off when you called.’

he exhales, the sound crackling slightly through the speaker. ‘yeah. just… long day.’

‘i get that.’ you shift, making yourself comfortable. ‘want to talk about it?’

he chuckles softly, but there’s something tired in it. ‘you don’t even know me.’

‘sometimes that makes it easier,’ you reply. ‘no pressure, though.’

for a moment, you think he’s going to brush it off. but then, to your surprise, he starts talking. not in long, drawn out sentences, but in small admissions, about football, about expectations, about the kind of loneliness that lingers even when you’re surrounded by people.

and you listen. not because he’s famous (though his name does sound vaguely familiar), but because he sounds like he needs it.

‘sounds like a lot,’ you say when he finishes.

‘yeah.’ his voice is quieter now. ‘sorry. you didn’t sign up for all that.’

‘i mean, i was about to watch a movie, but this is much more interesting,’ you joke.

that earns a soft chuckle from him. ‘what were you gonna watch?’

‘a classic,’ you say. ‘ever seen 10 things i hate about you?’

there’s a brief silence. then, ‘can’t say i have.’

you gasp dramatically. ‘that’s unacceptable. you have to watch it.’

he chuckles. ‘that good?’

‘it’s life changing.’

you hear a faint shuffling sound, like he’s moving on his end. ‘maybe i should.’

‘good,’ you say. ‘that way, next time you accidentally call me, we can discuss it.’

another pause. ‘next time?’

you laugh. ‘unless you’re planning on deleting my number after this.’

there’s something light in his voice when he replies. ‘no. i think i’ll keep it.’

you don’t expect it to turn into anything. but over the next few weeks, joão keeps texting you, sometimes after matches, sometimes just because. the conversations come easily, and soon, it’s not weird at all that a wrong number has somehow turned into a late night talking habit.

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.’

fc barcelona headers

like/reblog if you save x

- requested!!

https://www.tumblr.com/joaosnovia/776758335281168384/ykw-i-was-watching-a-video-of-gavi-walking-and-ive

Guys he just has bow legs 😭

it happens to a lot of footballers when they’re kids because when they’re having growth spurts and when their bones are still developing, there’s a lot of stress on their knees!

The action of kicking mostly uses the inside leg muscles, when can sometimes make an imbalance that can pull the knee joint inwards, which makes the shin bone to angle outwards/inwards!

(sorry for the physio yap 😭 long story short he’s alg but he has a higher risk of knee injuries and knee arthritis 😃)

LMAOOO IKKK I MENTIONED IT BC I SAW A TT AB HOW GAVI HAS REALLY FUCKED UP LEGS AND I JUST NEVER NOTICED IT @barcapix

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. Spread the self-love! 💕💕💕💕❤️

hi queens i’m tryna clear my inbox so here we are and EID MUBARAK TO MY OTHER MUSLIMS 🙏

anyways here we are queens / kings / its 🥰

love && war part 2. - pablo gavi.

amore a milan. - joao felix. (I LOVE THIS SM.)

moonlight. - hector fort.

‘and we created you in pairs’. - kenan yildiz.

playing for keeps. - toni fernandez. (i forgot ab this.)

OKAY HERE ARE MY TOP 5 WRITERS (not in order bc i can’t choose for the life of me)

@barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @hollyf1 (ik ur not really that much of a fic writer but u never fail to make me laugh)

hi hello! do you write for kieran tierney? if you don’t feel free to ignore this. but if you do can i please request a one shot where they’re talking about the fact that kieran’s moving to celtic at the end of the season and if they’re at a place in their relationship where the reader would move with him and it’s all angsty? hurt/comfort maybe? have a great day!

❦ - moving on.

summary:: moving on is hard, especially when you’re expected to pick everything up and move. not everything goes to plan and life is the best example of that.

warnings:: i don’t think so…

writers notes:: never did i expect to be writing for him but ykw heck yeah 😍. anyways i love writing angst it’s my element i fear, others may disagree but i love it sm

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the apartment felt quieter than usual. the soft hum of the city outside and the distant buzz of your phone were the only sounds that kept you grounded as you stared out of the window. it had been a long day, and all you wanted was some peace. but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

kieran’s voice broke through the silence, though it was quieter than usual, almost uncertain. ‘i think i’m really going to go for it. celtic. end of the season.’

the words hung in the air, thick with unspoken tension.

you didn’t turn to face him immediately, afraid that if you did, you’d betray the way your stomach had twisted in response. you felt the air grow heavy with the weight of his decision. he hadn’t exactly asked you what you thought, but you didn’t need him to. you both knew what this meant.

celtic was his home. he’d always spoken of them fondly, of the pride in representing the club that had raised him, that had seen him grow into the man he was today. and now, after everything, after all the time apart, after the struggles, the ups and downs, it was finally happening.

the move.

your heart ached at the thought.

you swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. ‘it’s... it’s a good opportunity, kieran. for you.’

it sounded almost dismissive, even to your own ears, but you couldn’t make yourself say anything else. because the truth was, a part of you was afraid. afraid that this was the moment that everything would change. that maybe you weren’t ready to let go of what you had here. or that, perhaps, you weren’t ready to follow him into this new chapter of his life.

kieran didn’t respond right away, and you finally turned to face him. he was sitting at the kitchen counter, his eyes fixed on his phone. his shoulders were tense, but his face, his face was the same as always. the face that had smiled at you in countless photos, that had comforted you when things felt rough, that had been the one constant in your life for so long.

but now, it was a mask. a mask you weren’t sure you could break through.

‘you don’t seem happy,’ he said softly, his eyes lifting to meet yours.

you took a shaky breath, the lump in your throat growing with every second. ‘of course i’m happy for you. it’s celtic. it’s everything you’ve worked for. but... but what about us?’

the words spilled out of you before you could stop them. you didn’t want to be selfish, but you couldn’t help it. his dream was becoming a reality, and you... you didn’t know where you fit into that anymore.

‘what about us, kieran?’ you repeated, your voice trembling. ‘are we at a place where... where i should follow you? can we keep doing this long-distance thing? or is this the end?’

the question hung between you, thick with all the unsaid words that had built up over the past few months. you’d both been busy, so busy, between his commitments, your own, that the time together had become sparse. and with this looming decision, with the inevitability of his move to celtic, you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

kieran was silent, his gaze falling away from yours. ‘i didn’t want to put that pressure on you,’ he said quietly. ‘i don’t want to make you feel like you have to come with me.’

‘but i’m not sure i’m ready to leave everything behind,’ you confessed, your voice cracking. ‘i’ve built my life here, kieran. my job. my friends. i can’t just pick everything up and go.’

his eyes softened, and he stood up from the counter, walking over to you slowly, carefully. when he reached you, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the few stray tears that had fallen.

‘i didn’t mean to make you feel that way,’ he murmured. ‘i’m not asking you to leave everything behind for me. but you’re part of my future. that’s not something i can just... walk away from.’

you blinked up at him, trying to process the gravity of his words. you wanted to believe him. you wanted to believe that you could make it work, that love could conquer distance, could conquer time.

but it wasn’t that easy. not when you were being pulled in different directions, your own future uncertain.

‘and what if this doesn’t work out, kieran?’ you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. ‘what if you go to celtic, and things change? what if we change?’

he closed his eyes for a moment, as if the weight of your question was too much to bear. then, with a slow breath, he replied, ‘i don’t have the answers. i don’t know what the future holds. all i know is that i want you in it. i want us in it. but i can’t ask you to follow me if you’re not ready.’

the silence that followed was deafening. you wanted to reach out to him, to hold him, to reassure him that you didn’t want to lose him. but you also needed to be sure of yourself. you needed to know that you were making the right choice, for both of you.

‘kieran...’ you started, but the words caught in your throat.

he kissed your forehead gently, and you melted into him, allowing yourself the brief comfort of his touch. ‘whatever you decide, i’m not going anywhere,’ he whispered. ‘but i’m here for the long haul, and i need you to know that.’

you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to feel the warmth of his words, even if they didn’t fully ease the uncertainty in your heart. for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, to breathe in the scent of him, to just be with him. you weren’t ready to make a decision, but you didn’t want to let go of what you had, either.

the future was uncertain, but in this moment, you had each other. and maybe that was enough to keep you going.

for now.

❦ - silent devotion.

summary:: quiet ramadan nights w kenan. ( @barcapix take notes habibi 💔.)

warnings:: uhh none!

writers note:: ramadan kareem to everyone who celebrates! may Allah make your fasts easy! my requests will be slower now that it’s ramadan i need to stay halal yk 💔. also do you guys call it suhoor or sehri bc i call it fothabala bc my dad is from bangladesh…? anyways enjoy 🤍!

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

you sat on the floor of the apartment, legs stretched out, back against the couch. the table was still cluttered with plates from iftar, but neither of you had bothered to clean up yet. the night felt slow, the air thick with the kind of quiet that only came after long days and empty stomachs.

kenan was next to you, his head tilted back against the cushions, a bottle of water resting loosely in his hand. his eyes were half lidded, exhausted but awake, the way he always was during ramadan. fasting didn’t seem to slow him down at training, but once he was home, you could see it, the weight of it, the way his body ached from pushing itself past hunger, past thirst, past exhaustion.

‘you should drink more water,’ you muttered, nudging his arm.

he huffed out a laugh but took another sip, just to prove a point. ‘you sound like my mother.’

‘well, she’s right.’ you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, watching as he rolled the bottle between his palms, lost in thought.

‘long day?’ you asked.

he nodded. ‘yeah. good, though. i felt sharp.’

you believed him. he never said much, never bragged, never complained. but you knew him well enough by now to hear what he wasn’t saying. the tiredness in his voice, the slight stiffness in his movements. the way he never admitted when it was too much.

‘stay up until suhoor?’ you asked.

he exhaled, considering it. ‘yeah. it’s easier that way.’

so you stayed. the two of you, sitting in the quiet, listening to the city hum outside. he tapped his fingers absently against the bottle, and you leaned your head back, letting the silence settle. neither of you needed to fill it.

ramadan nights always felt like this slow, heavy, still. but not lonely. never lonely.

can u write smth where the reader is so short than pablo *she is 149cm and he is 173* and maybe u can add how his guys say to him he is lucky because he is already short *poor gavi* i think it will be kind of as headcanons

thank you if u did tho ❤❤

santa's helper

credits to the owner!

summary: you're on the christmas market with gavi

warnings: none

pairing: pablo gavi x fem!reader

a/n: i little changed this, but i hope that you'll like it! and tysm 💞

taglist: @joaosnovia, @barcapix

requests are open!

masterlist

The most awaited time of the year for you has come - Christmas. Like every year, you planned to go to the Christmas market in beautifully decorated Barcelona, but this year with a special guest, your boyfriend.

You met Gavi at the beginning of this year and you quickly established a bond that became stronger every day, until today, where you have been a couple for nine months.

What charmed Gavi most about you was your height. You were so tiny next to him, which was good for him because he wasn't very tall either, and you were the perfect height for him, as if you were made just for him.

This was also the reason why he loved teasing you. Whether it was resting his elbow on your head or lifting your things above him while you jumped around trying to reach them and he laughed.

He loved that about you. You never got angry at him for mocking you because you knew he loved you. But you'll never admit to him that you like it.

Today was no different. You were walking hand in hand on a December evening between the stands, here with Christmas decorations, here with food, here there was absolutely everything.

Pablo fully dressed from head to toe, just so no one would recognize him, wanting to spend quality time with you, and you looking so cute and beautiful next to him, wearing black earmuffs, and a black coat, with your hair flowing freely down your shoulders. You were pulling on his hand like a little kid in a toy store.

He kept giggling at you as you jumped excitedly on the Christmas decorations, constantly talking, and he hung on your every word.

At one point you passed a stand with balloons, which you looked at, of course, and Pablo followed your gaze. When he saw them, an idea came to his mind.

“Wait a minute” he said, then turned back.

You stood still, looking at him strangely, and your gaze changed between confusion and excitement as he walked back towards you, balloon in hand.

“Give me your hand” he said and you gave him your hand.

He tied a red ribbon from balloon around your wrist that represented a gingerbread man. You looked at him questioningly.

“You won't get lost now, dwarf” he grinned at you, and you looked at him with pity as he just chuckled.

You started giggling yourself, blushing slightly at the small gift he gave you.

“Thank you, cariño” you said, then stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, but he tilted his chin up so that you couldn't reach his lips.

You became outraged and then walked away from him, and he laughed even more when he saw only a bouncing balloon above the crowd, but not you. He found you after a moment, kissing your cheek in surprise, making you narrow your eyes at him.

“Don't be mad at me anymore, amor” he said, kissing the top of your head. "So where are we going now? These are our last moments together, we need to spend them well" he said, and you started to wonder what he meant.

"What are these our last moments? What are you talking about?" you asked and he just laughed.

"It's sad that you short people have to help Santa Claus with presents during this period" he faked crying. "I'll have to hand you over to the rest of the elves, amor" he said, making a sad face, and you frowned angrily.

He laughed out loud at your angry but very cute face. To him, you looked like the cutest angry hamster in the world. You just snorted at his behavior and then moved to the next stand.

There were many jokes about your height that evening, but you wouldn't exchange it for anything else, because in it all there was the love you were looking for for so long and you just found it with Pablo <3