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ethereal555 · 2 months ago

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CHEETAH ! PART ONE

virgil van dijk x black!reader

essentially virgil is a cheetah in this.

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His matte black Mercedes pulls up into your driveway. Just like routine, he flashes his lights twice.

It acted as a greeting - he always assumed I was watching like a nervous little girl. I always was though; like a kid at Christmas in hopes of catching Santa.

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, you can damn near hear it in your ears. In a daze, you turn quickly to observe yourself in the mirror. As a result your cheetah print robe falls losely around your chocolate frame. The robe framed your pear shaped figure well, exposing your black lace push up bra that made your cleavage pop out. The matching black lace panties you wore on show also, and you had to admit the way it elegantly sat on your wide hips was to die for.

It goes without saying that he loved your body, like a dog and its bone. Let alone when you had it oiled up for him, waiting for him - like a meal.

You tie your robe around you so that only your cleavage was on show. For now. You admired the way in which it cinched your waist. And you took time to admire the way you looked - as a whole - in the reflection before you.

There was always a sense of pride that floated within you, when you looked at yourself. Not in a cocky way but because you invested in yourself : in how you ate, bathed, the products you used, the perfume you used, the quality of hair you bought and the clothes you wore.

This drew Virgil to you, you were a young woman with an advanced sense of maturity; a quality possessed by no one your age. You knew what you wanted, got it and then attracted people who were likewise - like himself.

Your naturally coily type 4 hair that would usually sit on your collar bone was now bone straight and hanging down your shoulders, different from the last time he saw you. It was the month of October and therefore in your world, silk press season. Virgil loved your curly hair. He worshipped it and you did too but, during the months of winter where it was usually very hectic - because of the annual buzz of your shapewear business - you knew having your hair in this state was easier to manage and would be less time cosuming.

You run your fingers through your hair, shamelessly flexing your hang-time in the mirror until you hear your door bell ring, a notification popping up on your phone that read,

Virgil

im at the door :)

You take your time walking towards the door not wanting to look out of breath when you were face to face with him but, also due to a part of you burdened with jealousy. You hadn’t seen this man since last month, September 3rd to be exact. It was now October 29th. You missed him dearly and wanted to really spend this time with him wholesomely but the inferno of jealousy burning within you seemed to be overpowering your mind as you got closer and closer to the door.

Seeing his signature manbun through the glass panel on your door made your heart skip a beat. Logically it wouldn’t be fair to express your selfish feelings about his lack of communication with you as you were involved with an occupied man who had both a wife and multiple kids; especially during these autumn months when his kids were starting back at school.

You both were in a difficult position, him mostly as he had the most to lose and you because of your dignity. You’d never usually go for someone married or with kids as to do so you’d need to bare an innate sense of maturity to cooperate in those situations but with Virgil it was how he treated you that drew you to him. Hell, how he looked at you alone would make you fall to your knees. The gifts he showered you with; the cars, the jewels, the houses, the sex and the bags were big tokens of love for a girl like me. As a 22 year old girl, there weren’t men my age with these capabilities, so you can imagine I was immediately onboard.

It was addicting; the disguising, the private jets, the meeting at hotels, the sense of mystery he brought to your life. The ‘on edge’ feeling, it riled you. It enlivened you. Not to mention way he fucked you, rough and hard and senseless somedays and then when he would make love to your pussy with his tongue and fingers on other days.

How aggressive he was with you, it enticed you. It brought a sense of danger, a feeling you lacked in your life.

You know it did say a lot about your character, but from your perspective you were young and allowed to make mistakes. You deserved to be loved, and in your head life was too short to miss out on this experience of “love” or lust. Not many people your age could claim an experience like this so you embraced it, even when parts of you knew there was potential for this to be a short-lived rollercoaster ride.

There were boundaries that I intentially set with Virgil when we first started seeing each other. I no longer wanted him to sleep with his wife, especially because he was sleeping with, unprotected at that. This was something that “showed my age” he always said and something he often dismissed as me “trying to start with him'”. But I swore to him, if I was to ever see any evidence of them sleeping together, we would have a problem. Gladly, I feel he is listening, he has spoken about their sexual spark diminishing ever since having kids and to support this; his sex drive with me is insane in a way it wouldn't be if he was sexually active with her.

He knocks again, breaking me out of my deep ponder.

You exhale, opening the door wide enough for him to enter. He ducked, walking through the door way, his hair as always slicked back not a fly away in sight. He wore a black crew neck shirt and black baggy joggers, and a silver cuban link that adnored his chest.

He knew what his chains did to you.

You sway your hips into your kitchen leaving him in the doorway his mouth agape, his mind racing not able to verablise how good he thought you looked.

He follows you into the kitchen like a lost puppy. The smell of vanilla invading his nostrils both from you and the candles you’d lit throughout the house. He looks around, his eyes admiring the new rugs you'd bought whilst you went to collect your green juice from the fridge. A nightly ritual you underwent.

��You don’t wanna give me a hug?” His deep voice sounds, the bass in his voice drawing you to look at him as you drank the entirety on your juice, hiding your smirk behind the bottle.

He eyes you back, his intimidating eyes falling from yours to your cleavage, and back up again appreciating how good you looked behind the kitchen island, your breasts spilling out of your robe. The older man walks up to you, standing behind your body. Your 5’7 self nothing in comparison to his 6'5 goodness. He lands his cold fingers on your collar bone rubbing them in circular motions. He hums, the vibration heading straight down your body.

You breathe in and out deeply, your eyes rolling back. Putting the bottle down, you turn around to face him not before making sure your plump bum rubbed up against him. You embrace his rock solid physique.

His firm hands travel down the length of your silk pressed hair, “Where are you curls Ameena?” he queried trying to find your eye contact.

You sigh at the memory, pushing them back and standing firm in your nonchalance.

“Not here” you muffled into his chest.

Feeling his body against yours brought out the feline in you, it needed to be studied. This cat like feeling manifests as you drag your fingers up and down his back inhaling in his intoxicating fragrance.

His chin lands on the crown of your head. “I’ve missed that attitude.”

The storm that had once subsided was back, you draw back fast, smacking at his chest. “Where have you been? Of course you’ve missed me, you haven’t bothered to see me in ages' you complained, your upper lip raised in irritation.

“I’ve been busy, klein mesije” he drags pulling you back towards him by your waist.

“Yeah doing what? Playing house? At award ceremonies with that b- woman -” you collect yourself pointing at his chest with your index finger, the nonchalant facade had faded. “holding umbrellas for her and shit? You didn’t even check on me to see how I felt after seeing that all over the internet. Or check on me in general for that matter!”

“Ameena-” he chuckles at your absurdity as he swipes his hands over his face.

'And no, sending me money isn't a form of communication', you rebute, crossing your arms over you chest in an act of dominance which actually had the complete opposite effect because now his focus was on your twin giriles that were sat even higher than before on your glistening chest.

“So you wanted me to bring you as my plus one? And how would that outcome be, Ameena?” he spoke softly to your suprise. He usually got very defensive with these topics, maybe he really did miss you.

“You’re on punishment, you should never go more than a week without talking to me. It makes me feel disposable and used. You claim we have more than just sexual chemistry - an emotional connection - yet you chose to ignore my existence. This is what I mean - this is why I couldn’t have that - no - why i can't have a baby with you.”

A crash of realisation paralyses you. You attempt to renege on what you had said but it’s too late as you see his head cock to the side almost instantaneously.

You hurriedly walk to the other end of the kitchen island towards the entrace of your living room in mortification, feeling his eyes follow your silhouette.

This was a low blow from you, throughout the 2 year entanglement, he had attempted many times to 'give you his son', to which you always profusely refused - you just weren't ready. He'd get offended saying that you were unserious, this whole saga stopped when you started taking birth control meaning he could cum in you. He doesn't know this, what he thinks is that you're now willing to have kids with him. The con regarding this temporoary victory was that you didn't know how you'd address him when 5 months down the line he asks 'why aren't you pregnant yet' .

His eyebrows furrow, a moment of realisation prominent in his expression. 'What did you say, Ameena?" he shot back.

There he was, the man we usually see on the field. You had no choice but to berate yourself, you couldn't keep your gob shut! The fibres in your body stopped moving for half a second. The world felt still until you spewed out some words to escape from the deafening silence.

'I said, you should never neglect me like this again or it's done.' you rush, knowing exactly where you'd taken this conversation to.

'No. After that..'

" I - I Listen Virgil if you're in the mood to argue you should leave, you should be making it up to me right now not grilling me. You are in the wrong, admit it." Your confident attempt to gaslight him fell upon deaf ears. You begin to strut off, not wanting to deal with the can of worms you had opened up or it was going to be a long night. You hoped nothing of the sort would happen.

You never thought you were one of those girls, the type to tell on themselves in the presence of a man.

'No Ameena. Come. Here” he forefingers beckon. “That’s right, one step at a time”.

You retreat towards the island. You lean both elbows on your kitchen island. “What!?” you question unenthuiastically, itching in trepidation.

"You're being disrespectful, you know how I feel about you walking away from me. Don't do it again." He walks towards you, licking his lips slowly. Slut, you screamed in your head.

"Stand up straight" he ordered following your movement with his eyes, his chin raised. You stay in this position, side eyeing him as he walks closer to you.

He grumbles with clenched teeth.

He latches onto your arms, pulling you into his chest, your back slamming against his front.

"Ow, Virgil" you grimace.

“You’re going to do whatever the hell I tell you to do” he rasped into you ear, you feel his left hand circle around your neck. You wince, trying to wringle yourself out of his embrace.

“When I want you to have my kids, you will. I'll make you the mother of my kids. Will you stop me?" you shake your head, a moan escaping your mouth as you fight to wriggle out of his nasty grasp.

"Use your words, Ameena"

“Ok Virgil!” you answer desperately, craining your neck upwards to loosen his hold on your neck. He keeps his hand there, walking you both closer to the island, so your bare stomach is pressed against the cold marble of the counter. Your robe, in the process of your tussle with Virgil, had unravelled.

''Virgil, my hair!" you cry like a brat in fear of all the tussling ruining your silk press.

"I don't care. Say you're sorry.' you gasp.

Now he held both your hands behind your back as if you were a hostage. With ever second that passed and you were silent, he manhandled your body in a different way.

Ten seconds had passed of silence so he pulled your robe off, earning a hiss from you when the cold marble met your skin.

"So thats the only thing you heard, I literally expressed my sorrow regarding us not speaking and the only thing you caputured was that I wouldnt have your babies?" you grit out kissing your teeth in disgust.

A stinging sensation, illicits a mini scream from your lips.

"Say you're sorry!" he repeated loudly.

The reality was, you weren't sorry. In fact, that was the most truthful thing you'd ever said to him. You didn't see him divoricng his wife anytime soon, and to have a baby with a secret woman, would in return make the baby a secret; yes you were flawed butyou wouldn't dare bring a child into that type of situatipn. It wouldnt be fair.

"I'm sorry Virg. I'm cold" you whisper.

'Louder.'

"I'm sorry!"you shout. "thats so humiliating Virgil" you mutter.

"Good girl' he kisses your back, slapping your ass one more time before letting you get up.

You stand, scoffing, being naked in the kitchen always seemed to happen whilst he was here. This man, you complained in your head, what have I gotten myself into for crying out loud.

"Pick up my robe" you ordered and like a dog he does as told. I think it's because he knew I was no longer in the mood as I hated when he dominated me like that during arguments. It made me feel weak.

"Next time, use your manners" he scolds scratching his goatee, I know it took everything in him to not cuss me out for speaking to him like that.

"Really though. For real, I will not have a kid with someone who doesn't contact me when they're away from me, and who keeps me as a second option. everytime. It gives deadbeat. I know you'd hate for me to find someone he doesn't do that", you finish tieing knot around your waist.

Virgil's jaw ticks for the second time this night, he swallows the anger he feels rising up so he could articulate himself without yelling at the young girl. She hated it.

"Ameena. Don't be silly, were you not just upset with me because I was not contacting you a lot? Why do you think that was? I was doing the opposite of what you have just accused me to be. I was being a father. I was spending time with my kids, who are most important to me. How dare you call me a deadbeat".

He turns around.

A breathe gets caught in your throat, but it's forced to stay there as he continues his speech. "This is what I mean when I say you show your age, you complain about me not seeing you and not texting you for days at a time as if you don't know how much my kids mean to me.”

"You really shouldn't complain about being a second option in regard to them. That’s my family, my everything . You will always be a second option - you knew what you were getting yourself into."

Nothing comes to your brain not a rebutal, nothing. The reality that was your situation dawns upon you. You felt as if common sense had only entered into you at the start of his latter speech. Clouds of humiliation hover over you.

His words had sucked the breathe of you. He was right, you couldn't interrupt a man's life and then claim first place.

You walk to stand infront of him, your voice small. This was the first time, in ages, he had made you feel like what you were, a little girl. "So, if I have your babies, would they, as well as I, still be a second option?".

His face is stoic, the horny and playful vibe that was once in the room had dissipated. “No, they'd be equal. But since I am such a deadbeat - what was the need for the question. You already have an assumption of me lodged in your brain, no?"

“My baby” you thought, he didn't show it but you knew he was upset. He blinked often, trying to conceal the disappointment in his eyes.

You press your chest on his, the urge to be in his embrace triumphing. You attempt to wrap his heavy arms around your waist.

“I'm sorry, truly. The comment was audacious and immature . I didn’t mean it. You're an amazing father, it’s just that the reality of having your babies seem so near, and its daunting Virgil. I was just projecting my fears”.

His arms fall back to his sides as soon as you let go of them, as if his arms were dead.

The sense of disheartment you felt wasn't going to prevail. In this moment, just like other moments you both had shared, you felt the only way to express your sorrow was to initiate something sexual. It usually worked, but this time you weren't sure.

You look up at him your chin snuggled onto his chest,whining..

"Daddy, I'm so so sorry..." you bite at his crew neck pulling your head back. He liked it when you acted like this, desperate. And in this case there was no acting, you were despearte to be in his good books again.

To your suprise he is looking back down on you, earning your heart a little jump, the eye contact felt intimidating. "Virgieeeee" you drag, puckering your lips on your tip toes. Vocalising your fustration of not being able to reach his lips, despite being on your tip toes with a small cry.

A nasty thought springs into mind, your heart racing as you predict the outcome. You untie the cheetah printed robe, making sure to not lose eye contact with the man. Aroused, you pull your perky breasts out of your lace push up bra squeezing them for him, enjoying the sensations of your needy hands on them.

A barley audible groan sounds from his throat as you collect saliva in your mouth allowing it to dribble down to your twins. You loudly suck the remaining dribble back into your mouth.

Virgil's eyes darken, a little quiver underneath his left eye. He tucks his bottom lip underneath his teeth fully entraced in what you were doing. You pinch your wet nipples, causing your chest to involuntarily rise.

"virgil, i'm ready, look, so why aren't you saying anything?" you whisper in a small small voice.

"You can do me however you want .. however." you plead, your wide eyes pleading alongside your words and voice.

"Get upstairs. Now".

---

I apologise for any typos. pt.2coming soon

xxxx

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blackgirlwhowrites2k23 · 5 months ago

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Wusyaname? - Pablo Gavi

Summary: You were beauty personified; He just had to get your name.

A/N: Uploading multiple stories at once because I'm not on here as much as I want to be. Anyways, made it to med school! Sorry for taking so long, but the bills had to be paid😭. DC @cisqueenin

Trigger warning: Usage of Y/N 💀 --------------------------------------------------------------------

Camp Nou was alive. The rumbling, raging chants of "Barça! Barça!" roared through the stands, thunderous in a way that shook the entire stadium. Gavi jogged off the pitch, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The air was electric, buzzing with the energy of all their fans celebrating Barcelona’s decisive 3-0 victory. He was basking in the glory of it all—three points secured, one thanks to himself, his team soaring in the league.

But something was off.

He felt it throughout the game, but now he could focus more on finding the source.

As his teammates jogged ahead, laughing and slapping each other on the back, Gavi found his thoughts drifting. It wasn’t like him. Usually, he was so so laser-focused after a game, replaying key moments in his mind or thinking about how he could improve. Yet, as he neared the tunnel, something tugged at him—a strange, unexplainable pull that made him turn around.

His eyes wildly scanned the stands, now a sea of red and blue with flags waved high, their vibrant colors flashing under the floodlights. Fans shouted, their voices hoarse from screaming all the screaming they were doing. He was always so grateful for the support he received; he literally bled red and blue and thankfully, so do they. Some leaned over the railings, the rails seeming to mold under the force of the fans, while others snapped pictures to immortalize the night.

And then, he saw her.

She wasn’t waving or calling out, yet he still felt like she demanded his attention. Instead, she stood in the midst of the crowd, near some familiar faces, her laughter carrying over the chaos. It was a deep, uninhibited laugh that sent a wave of electricity through him as she playfully shoved the shoulder of a friend beside her. Her radiant skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, and the way she carried herself—calm, seemingly untouched by the frenzy around her—grabbed his attention and left him a little breathless. More so then he was after playing a 90 minute match, if you would believe it.

She wore a Barcelona jersey (thank God!) that draped casually on her body, paired with some equally loose fitting jeans that she wore amazingly (simple; but Kounde would be proud). She wasn’t trying to stand out, but somehow, she was the only thing Gavi could see. Her smile lit up her entire face, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she tilted her head back in amusement.

Gavi blinked, completely caught off guard. He wasn’t the type to get distracted—especially not by strangers in the stands. It was rare that he even paid attention to the crowd at all. But there was something about her. Something different. Cliche, yes. But man was it true.

His chest tightened, and he felt an inexplicable need to keep looking, to memorize the curve of her smile, the way her hair framed her face like a halo. She seemed so... alive, so full of energy and joy. So-

“Yo, Gavi!”

Balde’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Gavi blinked and turned, his heart racing as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. It’s not illegal to look. He has eyes, he planned to use them.

Balde jogged over, a grin already forming on his face. His gaze followed Gavi’s line of sight, and the smirk deepened. “Ah, can’t say I’m surprised. That’s my girl’s best friend. They practically grew up together”

“What?” Gavi’s cheeks heated instantly, and he quickly looked away, trying to act casual as he brushed the hair out of his face and then placed his hands on his hips. Real casual like. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure, man.” Balde chuckled, his tone laced with mirth as he looked over Gavi. He clapped Gavi on the shoulder, the gesture light but teasing. “You’ve got good taste, though. My girlfriend is amazing, and you know what they say: birds of a feather flock together." He pauses to send Gavi a look as he rubs his chin, "I wonder what it says about me that we hang out together.”

Gavi rolls his eyes so hard that they almost roll out his skull. Maybe if they fall near her, she’ll help him put them back. “Ale, you’re hilarious. I’m surprised football is what you chose as a career and not comedy.”

Balde gives him a bright smile before he gets serious again. “She’s really cool. Not as cool as my lady, but her name’s [Y/N].”

Y/N. The name lingered in Gavi’s mind, rolling around for a bit before settling into the back of his mind for later.

“She’s not...” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence without sounding like he was definitely staring. Which he wasn't.

“She’s single,” Balde answered, clearly reading his mind. “And no, she’s not like a crazy, obsessed fan, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I didn’t ask that,” Gavi muttered, flustered.

Balde shrugged, still grinning. “Come on, we’re heading out tonight. You should join us. We have an amazing win to celebrate.”

Gavi hesitated. He wasn’t usually one for post-game outings, preferring to recharge alone after the intensity of a match. But it’s not like he had anything better to do.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Okay.”

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

The next evening, Gavi found himself sprawled on Balde’s couch, a PlayStation controller balanced in his hands. The apartment was a whirlwind—conversation echoed off the walls, the soft hum of music played in the background, and the faint scent of takeout wafted from the kitchen.

Balde and his girlfriend, Nia, were cozied up on one end of the sofa, a blanket draped over their laps as they shared whispered jokes. Every now and then, their quiet laughter would bubble into something louder, making Gavi sigh dramatically.

Going out the day before hadn’t been as eventful as he had hoped. He had hoped to run into a certain someone, but of course he wasn’t so lucky.

“Man, every time I hang out with you two, you guys make me feel like a third wheel,” he said, tossing the controller onto the couch seat next to him with a huff. “It’s like you’re doing this on purpose.”

Nia tilted her head innocently, though her grin gave her away. “What do you mean? We’re just sitting here, minding our business.”

Gavi shot her a pointed look. “Oh, sure. Yeah, yeah. Can you maybe try a little harder at looking less in love,” He gestured vaguely at the two of them. “You’ve got a girlfriend, Pedri’s got a girlfriend, even Fermin is seeing someone. Meanwhile, I’m over here just... existing. Is it too much to ask for you guys to practice social distancing sometimes? At Least while your wonderful, single friend Gavi is over?”

Balde smirked, clearly enjoying his friend’s irritation. “You sound jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Gavi shot back, sitting up straighter. “I’m just stating facts. Being the only single one here is starting to feel like a full-time job.”

Across from him, Balde’s girlfriend laughed, nudging Balde playfully. “Poor Gavi. Someone needs to get this boy a date before he loses his mind.”

“Don’t look at me,” Gavi said, throwing his hands up in mock defense. “You’re the ones rubbing your picture-perfect relationship in my face.”

Her grin widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well,” she said slowly, dragging out the word as if she were revealing a secret, “since you brought it up, I might actually know someone.”

Gavi froze, immediately wary. His eyes narrowed. “Oh no. Whenever either of you gets an idea something always goes wrong. I don’t trust this. At all.”

“Relax,” Balde chimed in, leaning forward to grab his drink from the coffee table. “She’s cool. And I know you’ve already seen her.”

“What?” Gavi’s brows knit together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Balde’s girlfriend leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm as her grin turned downright devious. “The girl you just couldn’t stop staring at last night. You know, the one in the stands at Camp Nou?”

Gavi stiffened. His heart skipped a beat, and a flicker of embarrassment crossed his face. “I wasn’t staring,” he said quickly, his tone defensive.

“Sure, Gavi,” Balde said with a knowing laugh. “We believe you. Totally.”

Gavi gives him a heat glare. “ And I can’t believe you told her I was staring.”

“He didn't have to tell me. I saw your love-struck puppy eyes from where I was sitting. You know, right next to her,” Nia corrects.

“ Yeah they were kind of hard to miss,” Balde adds, nodding sagely.

Ignoring Balde, his girlfriend continued, her voice warm and teasing. “Her name’s [Y/N]. She’s a good friend of mine. And, fun fact, she thought you were cute.”

Gavi blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “She... what?”

“She thought you were cute,” she repeated, her grin widening. “When I told her I knew you, she might have mentioned you seemed... interesting.”

“I’m not interesting,” Gavi muttered, though his attempt to brush it off lacked conviction.

Balde’s laughter grew louder as he draped an arm over the couch he and Nia shared. “You’re making this too easy. Look, just come out with us tomorrow. We’re all going to that spot downtown. No pressure or anything. Just a chance to hang out, get to know her.”

Gavi hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves, curiosity, or a mix of both, but the idea of seeing her again stirred something in him.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “What if it’s awkward? What if she’s nothing like what I’m expecting?”

“Then it’s awkward,” Balde’s girlfriend said with a shrug. “But I don’t think it will be. She’s great. You’ll see.”

Gavi groaned, leaning back against the couch as if the weight of their suggestion was too much to bear. “Fine,” he said after a long pause. “But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming both of you.”

Balde grinned triumphantly. “You’ll thank us later.”

Gavi wasn’t so sure. But as he sat there, pretending to focus on the video game in front of him, his mind wandered back to Camp Nou, to the girl with the radiant smile and carefree laugh. Maybe—just maybe—this wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

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

The trendy bar in the heart of Barcelona was alive with energy, its dim lighting and pulsating music creating an atmosphere that was kinda relaxing. But Gavi was anything but. He trailed behind Balde and his girlfriend as they weaved through the crowd, the mingling scents of cocktails and cologne filling the air. Despite his usual confidence on the pitch, he felt a twinge of nerves creeping in. His palms were sweaty. Knees weak. Something about Mom’s spaghetti. This wasn’t a stadium full of fans or a post-match interview—this was different.

“There she is,” Balde’s girlfriend murmured, tilting her head toward a corner table.

Gavi followed her gaze, and for a moment, his breath hitched. You were even more stunning up close. You sat with an effortless grace, your fitted blue dress hugging your figure and accentuating your skin. Your curls framed your face in perfect harmony with your glowing smile, which lit up as you laughed.

“Annnnnd, you’re staring. Nia, I think we lost him, babe,” Balde teased in a low voice, nudging Gavi.

“Shut up,” Gavi muttered, his face warming.

“Come on,” Balde’s girlfriend urged, pulling him forward with a grin that said she wasn’t going to let him back out.

As they reached the table, the laughter faded, and you glanced up. Your eyes met Gavi’s, and for a heartbeat, the bustling bar seemed to melt away. There was a spark in your gaze—a warmth that felt both inviting and disarming.

“Y/N, this is Gavi,” Nia said, beaming.

“Hi,” You greeted, your voice smooth and confident, carrying just enough intrigue to make Gavi’s pulse quicken.

“Hey,” Gavi replied, feeling uncharacteristically tongue-tied. He extended his hand, and your grip was firm yet soft, grounding him in the moment.

Her lips quirked into a teasing smile. “You play for Barça, right? Small club or something?”

Gavi chuckled, the icebreaker easing the tightness in his chest. “Yeah, something like that. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

You laughed, a sound so genuine it sent a strange flutter through him. He heard it being caused by others. But now it was caused by him. He definitely wanted to hear it again.

They settled into seats, the initial awkwardness dissolving as the conversation began to flow. To Gavi’s surprise, you weren't just witty—you were sharp, quick on your feet, and unapologetically yourself. You asked him about his career but didn’t linger on it, seamlessly shifting the topic to music, travel, and your own passions.

Hours passed like minutes. The hum of the bar became a distant backdrop as they found themselves engrossed in their own world. At one point, you tilted your head and smirked. “So, do you always stare at girls from the pitch, or was that a one-time thing?”

Gavi felt his cheeks flush, his laugh betraying him. “I wasn’t staring,” he protested weakly, though his grin gave him away.

“Right,” you said, your tone dripping with mock disbelief. “Well, either way, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Your playful confidence was refreshing, and Gavi found himself smiling more than he had in weeks. With you, he didn’t feel the need to impress or filter himself. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt seen—not as Gavi, the footballer, but as just Pablo.

—-------------------------------

As the night wound down, the energy of the bar mellowed, and the group began to disperse. Gavi instinctively offered to walk you to your car, feeling reluctant to let the evening end. The streets outside were quieter now, the cool night air carrying a hint of the sea as they strolled under the glow of Barcelona’s streetlights.

“Thanks for tonight,” You said as you both stopped beside your car. Your voice was softer now, yet still laced with that same effortless confidence.

“No,” Gavi said, his sincerity catching even him off guard. “Thank you. I’m really glad I came.”

You smiled, your gaze lingering on his for a moment longer than felt casual. “Maybe we’ll see each other again?”

The hope in your voice mirrored the flutter in his chest, and Gavi found himself nodding, a rare shyness creeping into his expression. “I’d like that.”

As you climbed into your car and drove off, Gavi remained on the curb, watching the taillights fade into the distance. A small, unshakable smile tugged at his lips. For the first time in a long while, he felt a new sense of anticipation—like he’d found something worth chasing, both on and off the pitch.

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