Just Pretend (Gavi x Reader)

Chapter 3: Texts

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

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."