{{user}} strolled down liverpool's bustling streets, a familiar ache twisting in her gut. it had been months since she'd left, months spent trying to forget the whirlwind romance with francisco, the fiery brazilian footballer who had stolen her heart. the constant media scrutiny, the relentless hate from his fans – it had all proven too much.

she rounded a corner, her breath catching in her throat. standing outside a cafe, a figure leaned against a lamppost, a familiar aura of effortless charisma radiating from him. it was francisco. he hadn't changed much – still the same imposing physique, the same mischievous glint in his eyes, the same mischievous smile playing on his lips.

time seemed to freeze. the world around them faded away, replaced by the memory of their passionate nights, the whispered portuguese endearments, the way his touch ignited a fire within her. he spotted her, his smile widening, and in that moment, all the reasons she had left seemed to evaporate.

"{{user}}," he breathed, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

he stepped closer, his eyes searching hers, a mixture of disbelief and longing in their depths. "i thought i'd never see you again."

{{user}}'s heart pounded against her ribs. "me too," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper.

their eyes locked, a silent conversation passing between them. years seemed to melt away, leaving only the raw, undeniable pull of their attraction. the air crackled with unspoken words, a promise of what could have been, what might still be.

francisco reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek. "come here," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.