Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)
Part 3
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Most recent part
Warnings: Dubious consent!!! Please don't read if you're uncomfortable with unclear consent. Mentions of crying during intimacy.
Not really a warning, but in this universe, Ferran is single and not the best person. So the warning is major Ferran character assassination? Sorry Ferran girlies <3
Word count: 2.4k
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this story so far. I have been waking up to 99+ notifs on tumblr for the last 3 days now and I can't tell y'all how much I appreciate it. So much that I'm typing this next part in the university library (while wearing my Gavi jersey) .
Also I was wondering why engagement was so much higher on part 1 and I found out that the link to part 2 on that post was broken smh.
Pablo Gavi was notoriously hot headed. Everyone knew this - from players to coaches to commentators to the 16 year old girls making TikTok edits of his footage. Everyone knew he had a temper the bubbled over at a moment's notice. Xavi liked to describe him as a spark: volatile, quickly explosive, but just as quick to come back down to a level headed state. This is what made him a good footballer. He could be passionate and powerful on the attack, and then level his emotions to make strategic decisions in a split second.
"Gavi is never nervous when he goes onto the field. He is confident. It is his game."
But Gavi was not himself for the rest of the day. His usual look of disturbance was deepened, eyebrows remaining furrowed together for the entirety of training. The air of boyish charm he always had dissipated, settling instead into an uncomfortable aura that was felt by the rest of the team. Gavi's irritation was widespread. The main target was Pedri, who refused to tell Gavi when he had seen you at a club. It was at Ansu and Balde, who kept you busy for the rest of the afternoon, so you couldn't watch them train. It was at Martin, who was sending so many texts that, in Gavi's opinion, he looked like a desperate little loser that had never felt the touch of a woman.
Gavi's anger did not spare you. It was one of those days where he decided that he just did not trust you. He had them semi-frequently. When he went into your office and his heart started hammering in his chest. Where his skin felt like it was on fire whenever you touched him. When your voice flowed into his ears like honey and clogged his brain and clouded his thoughts. He interpreted these feelings as fight or flight - his gut's way of telling him you were not to be trusted. Why else would he feel like this? The only other time his heart beat so loudly was in the middle of an important match, when he could not afford to make a single mistake. There was something wrong with you, and sooner or later, he would find out what, and these feelings would subside.
Until then, he continued to glare at the wall of the locker room, wet hair dripping onto his forehead, as he waited for Pedri to finish getting changed.
"-and then she started massaging my chest and it was the best I've felt in weeks. Every day I want to kiss the La Liga president for approving women physios. If she keeps stretching me out, I'll be the next Messi."
Gavi's head perked up at hearing this. He knew Ferran was talking about you. It was not the first time Ferran had made some less-than-appropriate comments about you. The first day you had come out to the field to be introduced to the squad, Ferran had been standing next to Gavi and Pedri, letting out a low whistle.
"Look boys, Xavi doesn't want anything to hinder your performance, not even sexual frustration. Look at the present he brought us."
Gavi's face twisted in disgust at the memory. He grabbed his bag and made his way out of the locker room, deciding it was best not to hear Balde's response to the comment. He wished they would focus on their football skills rather than trying to get girls. Gavi had been told multiple times that it might benefit him to get a girl. It's not like he was a blushing virgin - whenever he felt like he needed to be with someone, he went out with the rest of the squad. Pedri and Ferran would be surrounded immediately. They would then pick one of the girls at their feet and ask, "Have you met my friend Gavi?"
When he was at La Masia, it was harder - what woman wants to be brought back to a football academy dorm? But now that he was in the squad and on TV, women were all but crawling into the Uber with him. They came back to his place, begging for him, and he released any frustration he had. This didn't usually take long. Gavi wasn't looking to be a giver or a romantic. When he was finished, he got up, got dressed, handed the girl her clothes, and asking if she needed an Uber to get home. Was it harsh? Probably. The three girls he had done this to had all yelled at him, strings of profanity about his mother leaving their mouths as they walked out the door. But he didn't care. He was 18 and about to be one of the most famous footballers in the world. Like Pedri told him, "Girls will always be there. Focus on your career, and there will always be a line of women waiting to have your kids. Don't create extra stress for yourself."
Pedri executed this well. He was rarely seen out, and whenever he did go out, he could get a girl and be out of the club in a matter of 20 minutes. He was efficient. He didn't let his after hours activities seep into what he did on the field. Ferran was a different story. Some days, Gavi thought Ferran had only stuck with football because he couldn't become a male prostitute. He was always thinking about sex, talking about sex, or hypothesizing how to acquire sex. He was not efficient. He often tried to see how many girls he could take home with him at once. He always came in tired and sore, hangover causing him to move much slower than he should be. He was always making comments about the girls that sat close to the field in Camp Nou, going on about how he could have all of them at once if he wanted. Gavi usually tuned it out. But he couldn't when it came to you. He hated the way Ferran spoke about you. It made his stomach turn and blood boil. Focus on football.
As Gavi stepped into the hallway, he saw you struggling to carry your bag and a large stack of files. He leaned coolly against the wall, bag slung over one shoulder.
"Stealing all the medical records to sell them to the press?"
You looked up at him, arms shaking from the weight of everything in your hands.
"Selling them to Real Madrid. Ancelotti wants to know who has the biggest dick. Come carry these filed before I say yours is the smallest."
Gavi rolled his eyes and took the files from your hands, surprised by how heavy they actually were. He followed you to your car, thinking to himself, 'Does she actually have our dick lengths in our medical records? I don't remember getting mine measure. Is it self reported? No, it can't be everyone would lie.'
"Gavi. Where are you going? This is my car."
Gavi was taken out of his thoughts, realizing he walked too far. He jogged back to you, placing the files in the back of your car. He watched you bend over to arrange the files so they wouldn't slip onto the floor. Gavi found himself glancing at your ass as you leaned over, before swiftly looking away. He did not like you. He had a baseline of respect for you as a young successful professional. Nothing else. You were still sarcastic and loud and treated him like a child. He had no interest in your ass or any other part of you that couldn't help him get better at football.
"Do you need a ride home Gavi?"
"No I'm just waiting for Pedri. The guys were being too rowdy in the locker room and it was giving me a headache."
You closed your car door, sighing with the effort of making sure you didn't damage the files.
"Alright then. I'll see you next Monday." You said over your shoulder, moving to get into your car.
"Next Monday? Why not tomorrow? Where are you going to be for the rest of the week?"
"I have the week off to study for my field training assessment on Friday. If I pass with an 85% or higher, I can start helping the medical staff on the field when one of you gets injured in a game."
"Right. But if the exam is on Friday you should be here for Saturday training."
"I asked for Saturday off. I have a date."
Gavi's head shot up at the statement.
"A date?"
"Yeah. You know Martin? He asked me to go to Cala Bona beach with him. I never really use my vacation days so I thought it would be good. Besides, the team has a match on Thursday. Saturday training will be recovery. I don't need to be there."
Gavi looked at you with the same distressed face he always had.
"Don't you think it's a little desperate of you to take off work for a date?"
You looked up at him seething. He stood with his bag strapped over his shoulder, hands in his pockets, hood up to cover his wet hair. His eyes were stern and cold, the usual fire behind them having died down to leave frigid disgust. You would be lying if you said you didn't know about how the Barca men got rid of their sexual frustrations.
"Oh I'm sorry. Next time, Gavi, I'll be classy like you and have weekly sex in a club bathroom."
You didn't give him a chance to respond before you slammed your door and started your car, the sound of the engine drowning him out. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment. He hated when you did that - when you acted like he was a stupid kid. But in this case he was. You had refrained from getting into a long term relationship during your undergrad in the US because you knew you would be leaving, and you didn't want to drag someone across the world with you. But you were human, and humans love companionship. So you tried your best to find someone who you could love. Or rather, someone who could love you.
University had been difficult for you, and not only in the academic sense. In high school, you only really got close to one boy. His name was Ricardo. He walked in one day in the 9th grade wearing a Barca shirt, and you couldn't contain your excitement. You both got closer throughout your years at school, sharing a passion for medicine and sports. You even planned to go to the US together, so you could have a companion from home. Naturally, rumors swirled that the two of you were a couple, because friendship among teenagers doesn't exist.
In your final year of school, Ricardo confessed that he had been pining after you for the last year. You didn't know what to say. Your gut told you that you didn't like him, but everyone around you said otherwise. Everyone told you that the way he looked at you should make you feel special. That he had been so nice to you for so long that you basically owed it to him to return the feelings. So you went on a date with him (well, if you consider hanging out in his basement watching Netflix a date). Ricardo was not slick with his intentions. He had his arm around you, and pulled you in close within the first 10 minutes of the movie. At minute 30 he started kissing your neck. You tensed up. You had thought about being physical with Ricardo, but only because of all the times your other friends had talked about it. Halfway through the film, your clothes were off. Well, sort of. Your shirt was pushed up, bra pulled down to expose your chest (since he could not figure out the clasps. Both of you had your pants around your ankles.
"Ready baby?" "Yeah, I think so."
Your first time lasted 3 minutes. When he finished he laid on top of you. A tear rolled down your face. Ricardo looked at you, kissing you on the forehead.
"Hey, are you okay."
You nodded, but you didn't mean it. The realization was setting in that you had absolutely no romantic feelings for this boy. Ricardo got a girlfriends soon after, and you spoke to him sporadically before you moved to the US.
In college, you were fun. You were social, drawing people in with the mysterious exotic nature that came from being an international student. This, coupled with the fact that you were close to a lot of the athletes, meant that everyone wanted to get to know you. You got a lot of party invites. You spent almost every weekend at a bar or house or club. Tall gym bros were tripping over each other to serve you drinks. They were eager to grind up on you in a room full of sweaty undergrads, feeling the way your hips swayed to the beat of the Drake songs over the speakers. It always ended the same way. They whispered in your ear for you to go to the bathroom with them. You obliged. The feeling of the sink pressing against your ass was a familiar one. You drove boys crazy, kissing them like you were taking your last breath. You grabbed them by their belt loops, pulling them close into you. You would grab the backs of their necks, playing with the hair on their nape, and let out some (exaggerated) breaths when they kissed your neck. You always ended the encounter the same way. They would ask you, beg you to go back to their rooms, and you would always respond with, "I don't think you'd be able to handle it."
This got you a reputation around school. Some called you "The Pentagon", because it was impossible to penetrate you. Others called you "ice princess", because you could get men so hot and reject them so coldly at the same time. You became the ultimate challenge for every frat boy: who could get you to sleep with them. Men would treat you like a goddess - wine and dine you, buy you presents, confess that you were the woman of their dreams, all for the bragging rights of saying you gave it up to them. Having your emotions played with started to mess you up. You started to believe that no one really could fall in love with the "ice princess". But you weren't going to stop trying.
[Martin Zubimendi]: I can't wait to see you this weekend.
[Martin Zubimendi]: Send your address so I can come pick you up.
[Martin Zubimendi]: A pretty girl like you shouldn't have to drive by herself for an hour.
[Gavi]: Good luck on your exam Doctora
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A/N: Hey y'all, this part is a little shorter, but I wanted to give some background on the characters' mindsets before I start another eventful part of the story.
This part of the story is inspired by the story "7 minutes is never enough" on ao3. It is a Dabi x reader that sent shock waves through my system. So pls go support that author as well!
Thank you so much for all the love on this series. I really appreciate it more than I can say. Always love to hear feedback, so let me know under here or in my asks. Love you all. Will upload the next part when I can.
