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GUTEN MORGEN MY LITTLE GNOCCHI SALSAS! HOW ARE YOU?!

Alright so I'm not tryna self-promote or anything, but incase some of y'all would be interested in reason some imagines and scenarios about you and Gavi, feel free to check out my other blog, which is dedicated entirely to the young footballer.

That's pretty much it... Thank you so much for your time, and incase y'all actually decide to check that blog out, I really hope you like it!

Byeeeeeeeeeee!

"Didn't think you'd come..."

My eyes widened at the sight of the deliciously toned chest, and chiseled abs that greeted me. "Me neither." I quickly snap myself outta this trance, gazing into the beautiful brown eyes of the footballer who had invited me here.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" He then smirks, noticing me staring at his body. If anyone would've told me that I'd get to spend an hour of my life in a stadium full of hot, shirtless men, I would've come here sooner! That explains why Mandy wanted to tag along so bad.

"I thought about what you said, and figured that I really shouldn't let the assumptions and opinions of others restrict me from doing what I like." I shrug, showing him my notepad and pen. "So did you just come here to review us?" He asks.

"Or..." He trails off a little, eyeing the very excited Amanda, who was unable to conceal her happiness to be here in the presence of so many hot souls. "Don't mind her." I roll my eyes, chuckling a little. "She insisted to tag along." I sigh.

"Of course..." He nods. "I don't really mind the company, as long as she doesn't plan of conducting another interview here." He says. "Yeah no, don't worry. That's definitely not gonna happen any time soon." I assure, and we both laugh softly.

"¡GAVI, deja de coquetear con Pipsqueak y vuelve a poner tu trasero en el campo!" (GAVI, stop flirting with Pipsqueak, and get your ass back on the field!) His coach, Xavi, shouts, blowing his whistle, startling us both.

The expression of astonishment on Pablo's bright red face was absolutely priceless, and I burst out laughing. "Sorry about him..." He palms his face. "I'll uh, I'll see you in a bit." He smiles before running away, joining the rest of his teammates on the field.

Of course I couldn't hear what all was going on, but it appeared as if some of them were teasing him about something. Pedri Gonzalez and Frenkie De Jong. I saw them both laugh, and nudge Pablo, who just smacked their arms away, annoyed. I couldn't help but chuckle at this.

He's such a baby.

Everyone was doing some basic stretches now while talking, and I began noting down some observations to include in my article later. Although I might just submit it to someone else, so that they can publish it under their name, and I really have to lay low now.

At least until all this passes, which, if Pablo's right, will happen before the month ends. 

After warming up, they all lined up neatly, and began taking turns in scoring, while the goalie would try blocking them all. Mandy and I decided to move a little closer to get a better look. These guys were great! I'm surprised how they managed to lose against Madrid the other night.

Infact, all of them were so great, that Mandy and I were having trouble placing bets on who was the best. She bet on Lewandowski and Frenkie as the best due, and obviously I bet on Gavi and Gonzalez. Those to were unbeatable.

Dynamic duo of the century.

However, ever since Mandy began cheering for her two favorite players, Pedri has been off his game. He missed quite a few goals, and thanks to this, Pablo too got distracted in pursuit of figuring out what caused the decline of his best friend.

"C'mon, Pedri... What's up with you?" I ask to myself, rather uneasy. "Possibly just an off day." Amanda comments, unbothered. "Woo!" She again cheers for Frenkie, who just scored yet again. "Off day?" I raise my brow at her. "Bro's dying out there." I groan.

"Well, I guess you better pay up then." She smirks, knowing that she was winning the bet. "God, I feel actual physical pain watching them play." I sigh, handing her a 10 when Pedri kicked the ball right into the goalie's hands. 

"HUSTLE!" The coach blows his whistle, equally upset to see Pedri so off his game. "¿Qué te pasa, González?" (What's the matter with you, Gonzalez?) I hear him ask. "Pon tu cabeza en el juego, hombre." (Get your head in the game, man.) Xavi advices.

Pedri just nods, shaking his head a little, as if getting rid off whatever invasive thoughts he was getting. "Gavi, Gonzalez, trabaja en tu defensa. Es dos contra uno." (Work on your defense. It's two on one.) He then sighs, and they all get into positions again.

"We're going."

I kick off the several outfits Mandy just dumped all over me, both for her, and for me. "No we're not-" I scoff, chucking a few dresses at her. "Besides, you weren't even invited." I remind, making her roll her eyes.

"After all sorts of trouble you've been getting yourself into lately, it's pretty obvious you need someone to look after you at all costs, as you can't be trusted." She scoffs. "Need I remind you that none of it would've happened, if you would've just listened to me earlier that day." I glare.

"Oh just drop it already. It's all in the past now anyway-" She scoffs, making me raise my brows at her. "You literally got invited by Pablo Gavi himself. It'd be rude not to go." She rolls her eyes at me. "Yeah, well politeness and cooperation aren't exactly the hallmarks of our relationship." I scoff.

"Y/N! We're going!" Mandy puts her foot down. "But you're not even invited-" I scoff. "Then I'll be your plus one." She shrugs, rummaging through her closet again. "That's not how things work..." I sigh. "Oh whatever. Why waste my breath?" I give up.

"Attagirl." She grins. "Now go try these on." She tosses a couple of outfits on me, grabbing a few herself, and rushing to the bathroom. I didn't even bother to see what she laid out for me, knowing that it was probably something way too formal for my taste.

Instead, I wore something casual, and put on my sneakers, styling my hair in a way such that it would both, be comfortable, and look cute. A few minutes later, Amanda finally came out, her hair neatly brushed, and her make-up fresh.

"Wait, how do we even get in past the guards though?" Mandy then asks, grabbing her car keys. "I don't know... Probably just walk past them?" I guess. "You do realize that there's no way they're gonna let complete strangers in to watch the pros practice." She rolls her eyes.

"Well, let's just get going now, and figure it out on our way there, cuz we're already running late." I tell her, and she nods. We both then exit the room, and rush to the car. I turn up the music, and  Mandy and I silently vibe to it on our way there.

I couldn't help but feel a little insecure about the way I looked. Usually I don't give a fuck, but today was different. It almost felt as if I was obligated to look good today, without trying too hard, but also trying enough. And for the first time, it felt as if it wasn't for me.

Just the image of his face before my eyes, the way he looks at me... It made me tingle all over. And I don't like it. I don't like that feeling at all, yet I can't get enough of it. That man fucking ruined my career. Why the fuck can't I stop myself from always thinking about him then?

It's just... I can't stay mad at him for long. Not only because of those adorable, brown, puppy-eyes, but because of his innocence too. He was just so straight forward and open. But what impressed me most about him was his passion for football.

I've never seen anyone's eyes light up like that. Like the way they did when Gavi spoke to me about his love for football, and about the struggles he faced, but also got over. Sure, those were only some of the things he was talking about...

But those things sounded like the ones he genuinely cared about most.

"We're here..." Amanda snaps me outta my thoughts, pulling the car over and parking it. "Do you at least have his number?" She then asks me, getting outta the car. "No, why?" I ask, confused. "So that he can speak to the security himself, doofus!" She scoffs.

"How else can we get in?!" She then asks, pissed. "I don't know, let's just talk to the dudes." I shrug, pointing to the huge guards that blocked entrance. "Y/N, wait-" She tries stopping me, but it was too late. I had already started talking.

"Hey, sorry to bother ya, but I was actually invited here by one of the players." I tell them. None of them reply, standing still like a statue. Oh wait, I forgot they don't understand English- "Disculpe, lamento molestar, pero en realidad fui invitado--" I began repeating the same thing, only to be cut off.

"We heard you fine the first time." One of them reply in English itself. "Oh." I nod. "How stupid do you think we are, exactly?" He scoffs. "Well, considering that the tattoo on your neck spells 'sole' instead of 'soul'..." I start, but the man just grunts. "I'm gonna say not very." I gulp, quickly changing my answer. 

"I'm gonna count till 10, and if you're not outta here by then, I will throw you out myself." He threatens menacingly. "No sir, you don't understand-" I try to defend, but he had already counted up till 6.

"Deshagámonos de ella." (Let's get rid of her.) His pal guffaws. "No no no, wait-" I try stopping him again, but someone else cuts me out. "Señorita L/N?" Another guard comes up to us, stopping us all. "Si?" I reply.

"Hey, wait!"

I just turn back, letting my eyes scan the brunette's well-built body from head to toe, analyzing his body language, and studying his expressions. "What is it?" I ask him dryly. "Uh... no thank you for getting you your job back?" Pablo asks, a little confused, and a little annoyed.

"I never would've gotten up to this point if it weren't for you in the first place." I roll my eyes at him. "Hey, I thought we were cool." He raises his hands, defenseless. "Drunk me was cool." I correct, not exactly thrilled to be feeling like a damsel in fucking distress.

Especially if my knight in shining armor is the very person who endangered me in the first place-

"Look, consider this my way of making it up to you, okay? It's the least I could do." He sighs, genuinely guilty. "Yeah, but actually, you didn't do shit." I snap. "I mean, fine, I didn't lose my job, thanks to your statement and stuff..." I start.

"But having a job isn't the same as working." I roll my eyes. "I might be a journalist, but no one's ever gonna read my articles anymore." I point out. "Not for a very long time, at least." I then add, crossing my arms. "You might have explained things to my firm..." I take in a deep breath.

"But to the world, I'll always be the desperate bitch who couldn't take rejection well, and savagely attacked the golden boy of football." I throw my arms up in the air, frustrated. "But that's not even what happened-" He scoffs.

"Tell that to the world." I sigh, tired of the continual hate-mails I kept receiving. "Well, maybe if they see us hanging out a couple of times, without cursing at each other or fighting, maybe they'll let it go?" He concludes after a minute.

"Or maybe they'll assume that this is another one of my 'publicity' stunts." I roll my eyes. "Why care about what the others have to say?" He shrugs, referring to the conversation we had last night. "Because unfortunately, when it concerns my work, I have no option but to care." I reply.

"Now all I gotta do is to figure out how to spend the rest of my time here, before I can finally move back to Y/O/P." I mumble. "Aw c'mon, don't do that." He scoffs. "You only just got here." He adds. "Yeah, and I'm stuck here for 2 years." I frown, remembering the terms and conditions that my contract stated.

"Pretty sure this will pass before 2 weeks." He says confidently. "How can you be so sure about it?" I ask. "Uh, because it's not the first time something like this has happened here. And most definitely not the worst." He chuckles wryly.

"There's worse things that have happened?" I ask, surprised. "Way worse." He answers. "But you don't see people talk about all that anymore." He shrugs. "Why not?" I wonder aloud. "Well, mostly because worse things happen, and all the attention goes over there instead." He says.

"But also because all the people want is a show to distract them from their own pathetic lives." He adds. "They'll get bored of it." He shrugs. "When I first started playing officially for a club, the first lesson taught to me was to not let anyone get to you." He starts.

"Sure, I've not quite mastered that skill yet..." He then admits. "But there are all sorts of people in this world. Some will like you, some will not. You can't please everyone." He scoffs. "You're honestly not as stupid as you look." I remark after a minute, thinking about what he just said.

"Ouch?" He replies, unsure on how to react to that. "It's a compliment." I tell him. "You said I look stupid-" He scoffs. "But I also called you smart." I point out. "Sure, that's uh... One way to look at it." He mumbles, still pretty confused.

"Look, I kinda have to go now..." He then says, checking his phone which just buzzed. "But incase you change your mind, I'll be at practice later today." He then adds. "Feel free to come by." He smiles politely, before rushing away.

"Wait, was this the purpose of the entire speech you just gave me?" I raise my brow at him, somewhat honored. "You really love flattering yourself now, don't you?" He playfully rolls his eyes. I just smile and shrug, chuckling a little. "Does that mean you'll come?" He then asks.

"I can't believe that bitch would actually leak our pics!"

I bit my nails anxiously, as I paced around, waiting to be called into the meeting room, where all the managing directors and editors and such important people of the firm I worked for, gathered around, holding a meeting to decide my fate.

"Relax, it really isn't as bad as you think it is." Mandy paces around as well, trying to convince herself more than me. "Why would she call the paparazzi like that though?!" I storm around more aggressively now, wanting to punch that bitch in the face with a rusted fork.

But unfortunately, thanks to all that vodka, I really couldn't remember her face anymore. Or maybe she just has an unmemorable face, for I very clearly remember a certain footballer's face, paying close attention to the details.

Ugh, Y/N snap out of it!

He is the reason why you're here in the first place! That boy is nothing but trouble.

"I wish they'd leak Diego's and my pics while making out." Mandy then sighs. "Oh my god, I can't believe I actually made out with him though!" She grins. "Can you believe it, Y/N?" She looks at me. "I made out with Diego fucking Fernando!" She exclaims.

"What I can't believe is that you're more concerned about that than my job-" I scoff. "Says the girl that was ogling over the very person who got her into this mess, and still forgot to get his number." She rolls her eyes at me. "I wasn't ogling-" I defend.

"And also, will you stop mentioning him?" I then request, rather bummed. "Past-me was straight up stupid. But present-me is so much more sensible, and so disinterested in the walking red-flags the world calls 'men'." I roll my eyes at her.

"Besides, even if I did have any interest in dating someone, he'd be the last person on earth I'd choose." I try to convince myself more than Amanda. "How could you say that?!" She gasps overdramatically. "Have you seen the guy?!" She exclaims. 

"Who cares how attractive he is?!" I snap. "He literally cost me my job, which was my only reason to wake up every morning." I roll my eyes. I wouldn't call myself a workaholic, per se, but without my work, I just tend to feel rather empty and purposeless.

"I shall never get involved with someone like that." I cross my arms. "Girl- You're crazy." Amanda sighs. "You don't know if you're fired yet or not." She reminds. "And who knows? Maybe being seen with him might actually just work in your favor." She shrugs.

"Nothing good can ever come from a guy like that, Amanda." I sigh. "No matter how hard it may be for me to admit that, and accept it the way it is, it's just the truth." I shrug. "Best if you learn from my mistakes." I frown, and eyes and mouth were both wide open again.

"Is this you trying face yoga again or something?" I then ask, weirded out by how frequently she made those stupid faces. "Um... Amanda?" I call, confused, waving my hand in front of my face, but she never once blinked.

Yep, she's dead.

Rip.

But before I could slap her back to reality, I felt my entire body vibrate, when I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I turned around, bracing myself to be fired, but was even more shocked when I saw who it really was-

Pablo fucking Gavi!

"So, Ms. L/N... What kind of a guy am I, exactly?" He simply questions, not at all offended, but rather amused. "What are you doing here?" I narrow my eyes at him, not minding his presence, but not necessarily liking it either.

"I asked you first." He shrugs. "Well, I asked... LOUDER." I shrug back. "Y/N." He just says my name, raising his brow at me, and I involuntarily give in. "The kind of guy who's probably used to getting everything he wants, and has a little temper tantrum every time he gets denied something." I guess.

"So basically a spoiled brat." He nods. "Mmhmm." I nod, biting my lip awkwardly. "Is that all you could get outta the 30 minutes conversation we had last night at the bar?" He raises his brow at me. "Nah, from the first second I saw you, actually." I scoff. 

"First impressions are often wrong." He shrugs. "Besides, weren't you ever taught to not judge a book by it's cover?" He raises his brow. "We're living in the world that judges the book by it's very title, unfortunately." I roll my eyes. 

"Now, why are you here, Pablo?" I ask, crossing my arms. "Your manager called." He starts. "Said he wanted me to explain what exactly went down between the two of us last week, and last night." He answers. "Said that further clarity of the situation would be appreciated as it would determine what's to be done with you." He adds.

"Oh c'mon, Y/N..."

I just shoot Amanda a glare, not a fan of her shameless begging to make out with that random actor dude she spoke to for only 12 minutes. "It'll only take a minute!" She pleads. I don't reply, and stare. "Well, it's definitely gonna exceed a minute..." Diego corrects.

I just roll my eyes at the cheeky man, and finally give in. "Fine." I scowl. "But don't you EVER set me up with such pathetic creeps ever again." I grumble, referring to the weirdo she set me up with earlier.

Not only was him comparing me to his dead aunt a huge red-flag, but he also told me that I remind him of his daughter, and that she's really hot too, just like HIS mother. Like what the- Bro's got some crazy issues.

"Thank you! Oh my god, you're the best!" She pulls me into a quick hug, before rushing into the men's restroom, soon joined by her latest boy toy, who just winked at me saucily before entering the restroom, and shutting the door behind him, and on my face.

Great, not even 10 seconds had passed, and I could already hear some crashing. Disgusting- I've literally seen jackals with more self control. "You're that bitch who publicly assaulted Pablo Gavi, aren't you?" A random woman approaches me.

"And you're the random bitch who believes everything she hears, and makes bizarre assumptions about matters that should not concern here, aren't you." I retort, smiling sweetly at the red-haired woman approaching me.

"I saw you talk to Pablo earlier today." She crosses her arms. "Didn't realize everyone got an alert on their phone." I scoff. "They actually might if I decide to leak those pictures to the press." She smirks. "Didn't realize talking was a crime-" I roll my eyes.

"What did he say?" She then asks. "Once again, I fail to see how that concerns you, strange woman." I sigh, tired of meeting weirdos. "Well, if you don't want me calling the press right here, right now, I'm gonna need you to introduce me to him." She smiles.

"I've been tryna get his attention for years now." She adds. "Oh really?" I fake an impressed expression. "Took me only 2 minutes." I yawn, making her cocky expression change into an angry one. "Also, we just had like one conversation, alright?" I then sigh.

"Why does everyone think we're besties now?" I then ask myself. "I barely know the dude myself. How the fuck am I supposed to introduce you?!" I scoff. "Whatever. I don't need a bitch like you to further damage my reputation." She rolls her eyes. 

"I'll go talk to him myself." She fixes her hair a little. "Cool, you go do that." I smile politely, checking my watch for the time. "Mandy, how much longer until you're done?" I then bang on their door after the strange woman left.

Instead of a respond, all I could hear was a loud, cursed moan, that highkey made me wanna chop my ears out. This continued for about 2 more minutes, before a familiar voice snapped me outta my thoughts. "You waiting for the men's room?" He speaks, startling me a little.

"Damn, is it that obvious?" I roll my eyes at the brunette, who walked towards me now. "My friend's hooking up with some random actor, and they paid me 3 bucks to guard the door." I then inform, somewhat glad to have company.

Despite our first meeting being a complete disaster, and my first impression of him was that of an asshole, I still couldn't bring myself to stop thinking about this guy. He certainly was something. Although I can't quite tell what.

He just... Intrigues me.

The second I spoke to him here, and cleared the air between us, I couldn't get my eyes off of him. He was absolutely adorable. Breathtaking.  No, Y/N, stop staring so often! It's awkward- But I can't really help it. He stuns me!

He's been my crush ever since I was a teenager, and though I forgot about him for a while in between, meeting him again seemed to have put me in that trance he held me in so long for before. And he just looks so much better in person!

What's happening to me? This isn't like me bruh-

"Did you come here looking for me?" I question, a little glad to have some company while my bestie was busy having a good time. "You flatter yourself too much." He rolls his eyes, and then chuckles lowly. "I came here to use the men's room, but uh, clearly that can't be arranged." He sighs.

"Same! I can feel the vodka go right through me." I say. Pablo just raises his brows, and looks at the lady's room, before looking back at me, slightly amused. "I don't actually mean it." I scoff. "I was just tryna keep the conversation going." I admit honestly, making him laugh.

"Speaking of conversation... There's something I wanted to ask you before we were interrupted." He then clears his throat, taking a step closer to me. "What is it?" I ask softly. "People don't actually believe those absurd rumors about me, do they?" He asks nervously.

"I don't." I simply answer. "You don't come across as the cheating sorts." I add. "And as for the others... Well, who cares about what people say?" I shrug. "As long as you, and the ones that matter to you know the truth, I fail to see how the opinions of others matter." I roll my eyes.

He just shuts his eyes, biting his lips and looking down to the ground, rather upset about the rumors, but also deep in thought. The look on his face is painful to watch. Why does he have to be so cute? Even when he's sad?

What's going on with me man?

Why can't I figure out what exactly it is about him that's making me like this. That's driving me so crazy. It's irritating the crap outta me, to feel this way without knowing the reason behind it. It's probably just hormones, or probably the liquor.

But whatever it is... I kinda like it.

Before any of us could say anything to eliminate the comfortable silence between us, a thud against the bathroom door behind us snapped us both back to reality. What was that? "Hey Mandy, you good?" I ask, growing a little concerned. 

"Y/N, we've gotta get outta here!" Amanda simply rushes outta the bathroom, her cheeks flushed red, her hair a mess, and her make up smudged too. She quickly adjusted the straps of her dress, and ran up to Pablo and I.

"You okay?"

I wave my hand in front of the dumbstruck reporter, who couldn't stop staring at the footballer I was hanging out with, from across the room. Her mouth had almost dropped to the floor, and her eyes nearly popping out due to how wide they had been opened.

"You do realize who the fuck you were talking to, right?!" She then shouts excitedly, still shocked. I shush her and just nod. "His name's Pablo, I think." I play dumb. "PABLO MARTIN PÁEZ GAVIRA!" She corrects, still tryna register it.

"Y/N, he's the same dude you were on the verge of murdering not too long ago." She reminds, raising her brows at me. "The same dude you called an asshole twice, publicly!" She exclaims. "And now you're literally besties with him?!" She questions.

"It was just 4 drinks." I scoff. "We're far from besties." I roll my eyes. "Oh dayumn... just look at him." She then gawks at him. "Just when I thought he couldn't get any sexier than in his football jersey." She bites her lips.

"Just look at that suit! Bro's getting me all hot and bothered." She winks at him, but he obviously didn't notice. "Never expected him to be here." I shrug it off, ignoring her thirsting over him so shamelessly. "Please tell me you got his number." She says.

"Of course not-" I snort. "Why the hell not?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at me. "Because bro apologized only an hour ago, and that's also how long I've known him for." I scoff. "Besides, why the hell should I be interested in someone who basically cost me my job?" I ask.

"Because he seems to have completely forgiven you." She says, glancing over at him. "And his statement is possibly the only thing that can fetch you your job back now." She adds. "Okay, that's kinda far-fetched at this point." I roll my eyes at him.

"He probably just felt bad for me after I made a complete fool outta myself in front of the world, not once, but twice." I scoffs. "And is that why he can't take his eyes off of you anymore?" She raises her brow, a cocky smirk creeping to her face now.

I turn back to catch him staring at me, and instantly looking away. 

"He probably just recognized you from the other night." I shrug, turning back to Mandy. "Don't look-" Mandy scoffs. "Now he's gonna think that we're talking about him." She then sighs. "But we ARE talking about him." I raise my brows at her.

"Yeah, but he doesn't need to know that." She scoffs. I just roll my eyes at her, but before I could say anything, Amanda quickly cuts me off, jumping around excitedly. "Woah, easy-" I calm her down a little. "What is it?" I then ask.

"He's with Diego motherfucking Fernando!" She exclaims, pointing excitedly across the room. (Random footballer I made up. He's 24, plays for Barcelona, is 5'11, and also the fuckboi of football.) "Bro, I've been crushing on him ever since I saw him play in the 2022 World Cup!" She blushes.

"Introduce me!" She then demands. "I would if I could-" I scoff. "But like I said earlier, I barely know the dude." I roll my eyes. "You're a terrible wing-woman, you know that?" She narrows her eyes at me. "Like you're any better." I retort. "Oh yeah? We'll see about that." She smirks evilly.

"Uh oh, Manda, I know that look, and whatever it is that you're planning to do, Ima need you to stop." I warn. "In order to prove my worth wing-woman skills, let's play this little game I like to play." She smiles. "Dear god..." I sigh, knowing exactly what was gonna happen.

"Haaaave you met Y/N." She says in a sing-song voice, rubbing her palms against one another, looking for a suitable date to set me up with. "First off, Have You Met Ted sounds a lot cooler." I try to distract her.

"And secondly, I'm not interested in--" I continue, but she had already acquired a target. "Hi!" She greets a random dude who was already crying his eyes out. "Have you met Y/N?" She then smiles, pointing to me and then walking away.

"Hi..." I greet the dude awkwardly. "Let me guess, you're Y/N?" He sniffles a little blowing his nose. "Unfortunately." I sigh under my breath. "What?" He asks, tearing up a little. "I said, yes! That would be me." I grin, correcting my words. "My aunt's name was Y/N." He informs.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

After about 15 minutes of joking around and laughing, Pablo finally concludes. "Nope. Moved here a week ago, actually." I answer. "Oh, from where?" He asks. "Y/O/P." I reply. "From Y/O/P?" He repeats, somewhat fascinated, and I just nod.

"What did you come all the way from Y/O/P for?" He questions. "Sports journalism paid a lot more than investigative journalism." I shrug. "Especially since crimes have been steadily declining." I add. It was better for the world, but not my job unfortunately.

"You know, I never really understood why you journalists and reporters always do whatever you do." He sighs, ordering another drink. "What do you mean?" I ask, kinda knowing what he meant by that statement.

"Well mostly just those reporters..." He corrects. "You know, like it's as if they profit off of our problems." He explains. Truer words could not have said. "Well duh." I sigh, ordering a lighter drink now. "Why else would they constantly create problems for others?" I then add.

"And your so-called fans aren't any better." I then add. "Bitches always keep the fire alive until it literally consumes everything, destroying it." I roll my eyes. "And lord knows where their loyalties truly lie." He agrees.

"It's as if they're interested in knowing my struggles and burdens, rather than my performances or skills." He adds. "I'm sorry." I apologize genuinely now. "What are you apologizing for?" He asks, confused. "I just gave them another beneficial reason to attack you now, didn't I?" I sigh.

"Your reaction was completely understandable, Y/N." He says. "Infact, it would've been concerning if that wouldn't have been your reaction." He then scoffs. "Look-" I quickly cut him off, mildly annoyed to be interrupt like that when I was having a moment.

"I don't apologize too frequently, and even when I do, I hardly ever mean it." I explain. "Just accept it." I request. "Where you about to ask me something before the entire... You know?" He then nods, changing the topic.

"Oh no, I was just there to stop my friend, actually." I answer. "The question seemed too personal to belong on the stadium, especially after an incredibly hard match which you guys did not win." I add. "Glad someone gets it." He smiles genuinely.

"Wait, if you knew she was going to ask me that, why didn't you stop her earlier?" He then asks. "I tried, didn't really work." I reply, and he just nods. "It's not really her fault though..." I quickly add. "Moving here was pretty much one of the very few opportunities she got to prove herself." I defend.

"And though the entire interview completely backfired, it still got her a huge raise." I shrug. "Even if it cost me my career." I then murmur under my breath. "Besides, you should know... None of the questions we ask are actually from us." I inform.

"Our firms and bosses make us ask them. Well, at least at beginner level." I add. "It's kinda like how you have to listen to your coach every single time about who to pass the ball or, or when to score and when to not, when you're still a beginner." I explain.

"I might know a thing or two about that." He chuckles wryly. "I still hate all those reporters though." He quickly conforms. "Like, maybe it's not entirely all of their faults, but I hate being so heated up all the time." He scoffs.

"Playing football is not just a hobby, or a job... It's my passion." He says. "It's everything to me. The only time I genuinely feel alive." A fire of passion lights up in his deep brown eyes as he speaks about his love for football. It certainly was very evident.

"And whenever I don't succeed at winning a game... I just feel like a massive failure." He sighs. "Like I've let everyone down." He adds. "And that shit just doesn't sit right with me." He finishes. "Guess I can't really blame you for spiraling then." I comment. 

"Yes, I'm a sore-loser. You can say it." He admits, smiling softly, making me chuckle. "If it makes you feel better, I personally feel that losing does not exist." I place my hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "You either win, or you learn." I smile, making him think about it.

The soft curve on his lips indicated that he probably liked my intake on life. "By the way... Do people--" He starts saying something, but was immediately cut off by the familiar yell of a very upset Amanda Osbourne. Busted-

"Are you stalking me?!"

I'm usually not a person who cares about what anyone thinks of me, but at this point, I couldn't help but feel a little flattered to see the familiar chocolate eyed footballer. Did he follow me all the way here from the interview? Because if so, then that's fucking creepy-

Flattering... But creepy.

"Woah, you two know each other?" The bartender butts in, mouth wide open as he shook my drink. "I guess you could say that..." I mumble to myself. "This seat taken?" The guy simply asks, somewhat shyly. A glint of sincerity in his coffee eyes.

"yeah, no- Sorry. The table's really blowing up right now." I sigh, referring to the empty counter, with only a random old man at the end. "My friend, Marco here, can probably put you on the waiting list, but it's probably next season, at the earliest." I frown, reading the bartender's name from his badge.  

"Okay." Pablo simply rolls his eyes, beginning to walk away. "No- I'm kidding." I stop him. "Sit." I push the seat to him with my legs. He just shook his head, and took the seat, waiting patiently for his drink, as Marco served me mine.

I decided to wait for him until he got his, and that's when I began examining him closely. He really was attractive. Like VERY very attractive. Like oh my god, I can totally see why I always had a crush on him, kind of attractive. 

I couldn't help but lock my eyes into his warm, brown ones. Oh how chocolatey and delightful they were, gazing into my dull Y/E/C ones, melting my soul, burning a hole right through me... Capturing my attention, the time, and my heart.

And don't even get me started about his beautiful, smooth skin. It's as if the moon came down herself to place gentle kisses all over his toned, muscular body. And that dimple that forms every time he smirks... 

Ew no, gurl stop that- You're reading too much Wattpad. Cringe. 

But in all seriousness, he probably one of the very few 'non-fictional' men I've ever gawked at. I mean, how could I not? Bro's fucking gorgeous! I can totally see how or why I always had such a massive crush on him. Before the whole clip, you know.

Once again, none of that matters anymore, cuz he's a dick. Besides, there's plenty of fish in the sea. Not like he's the only hot guy in the world, right? Sure, he's the only hot guy I always wanted to be with... But that was before I knew him.

Best to just ignore him, and go back to drinking my problems away. 

I turned around, ghosting his presence, and took a sip of my drink. Yep, that sure hit hard. Coming here was probably the only wise decision I've made today, and something tells me that I'm definitely not gonna regret it. Well, not until tomorrow morning, at least.

"What's your name?" The same guy speaks again, taking a sip of his drink too. "Y/N." I answer coldly, not wanting to engage in a conversation with him, but not really coming across as rude either. "And you got a last name, Y/N?" He asks, enunciating my name passionately.

As much as the past-me wanted to share his last name instead, I pushed that thought outta my mind, and answered, "L/N." He just nods, taking another sip of his drink. "Y/N L/N." He then repeats, enunciating every letter, and every syllable perfectly.

"Pablo Gavi." He then introduces himself. At first I thought that he was probably mocking me, but the innocence in his eyes expressed nothing but humility. "Nice to meet you, I guess..." He extends his hand, and I shake it. "Wish I could say the same." I roll my eyes. 

A perplexed look crosses his face as he studies me intensely, as I let go of is hand, finishing the rest of my drink. "Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot earlier..." He starts. "And I don't expect you to forgive me either." He then adds.

"But I just want you to know that I'm awfully sorry for what happened." He does the unexpected, and actually apologizes. "I shouldn't have reacted like that, and especially with someone who wasn't even involved." He sighs.

I don't know if it was the alcohol, but all anger instantly left my body. My impressive RBF was replaced with a soft smile instead, as I just nodded, accepting his apology. "I don't really mean it, but I guess it's only appropriate for me to say that I'm sorry too." I blurt out.

"All good." He chuckles softly, not expecting me to react that way either. "Did you follow me all the way here from the studio?" I then ask him a minute later. "What? No!" He scoffs. "I come here every time I need to clear my head-" He scoffs. "Oh-" I say, somewhat disappointed.

"Y/N L/N everyone!"

Dead silence. How beautiful.

I stood there frozen on the stage, staring blankly at the huge crowd of people who stared back at me, some angry, some sympathetic. Some curious, and the others clueless. But what everyone had in common, was that signature gawk, as if I was a piece of meat, hanging in the butcher shop, ready to be grilled.

"Do something!" Mandy's voice yells in my head, making me wave awkwardly at everyone in the room. One of two claps were heard, but apart from that, everything seemed frozen. "So, Ms. L/N, what do you have to say about the incidents that occured?" The host clears his throat, breaking the silence.

"I... I- uh." I stare, forgetting my entire script. "It was an accident?" I say, but it came out as more of a question. No one said anything, and I could feel the concerned brown eyes belonging to the footballer scan my face. Someone coughed, and everything went dead again.

"So I believe you feel very apologetic of your actions?" The hosts guesses. I just nod, bright red with embarrassment now. "So you admit that it was all a publicity stunt, and nothing more than that?" He adds. All the nervousness instantly left my body, replaced with anger.

"Hold thy tongue." The random voice of an old woman spoke in my head. Yep, definitely watching too many movies. "I don't need publicity." I calmly spoke. "My work speaks for itself." I answer proudly. "That's... some statement." The host chuckles awkwardly.

"So, what exactly were you thinking, when you so mindlessly attacked the pro-footballer?" He then asks, and my fiery Y/E/C eyes pierce into Gavi's coffee ones. "That he's a fucking asshole." I say through my teeth, glaring at everyone there.

A few protesting voices erupted from the audience, but I couldn't care less. For all I knew, I was done. I know Amanda's gonna kill me, but my job here was done. My eyes locked with Gavi's, and I rolled them at him, before storming outta there.

"What the HELL was that?!" I hear Mandy yell at me once I was out in the hallway, making my way to the exit. "The truth, the WHOLE truth, and nothing BUT the truth." I scoff, not stopping for her. The minute I left the building, I was swarmed by the dozens of reporters and journalists, hammering me with questions.

I just ignored them, and walked past them, facing to the ground so that they couldn't get any proper pictures of my face. I continued walking, and even jogging for about 3 minutes, until I finally found a taxi parked at the side of a road.

Without even knocking, I just directly barged in, and took a seat at the back, covering my face with the purse. "uh, señora, mi trabajo por hoy está hecho." (Uh, ma'am, my work for today is done.) Says the driver in front, eating some paella. 

"Entonces deberías haber mantenido las puertas cerradas." (Then you should've kept the doors closed.) I respond, not caring much. "Por favor, llévame a un bar lejos de aquí, ¿quieres?" (Please take me to a bar far away from here, will ya?) I request.

He just stares at me blankly, trying not to get weirded out by the paparazzi, and then back at his food, shooting a pleading look. "Haré que valga la pena". (I'll make it worth your while.) I smile, taking out some money. Tempted, he finally gives in.

After about 20 minutes, he finally pulled over.

I paid him, thanked him, apologized too for delaying him his dinner. We must've lost the reporters within 5 minutes of leaving, and fortunately he didn't really ask any questions. He wished me a goodnight, and then zoomed away.

I just let out a sigh, and entered the bar, after silencing my phone. I know I should tell Mandy where I'm at, and that she shouldn't worry too much, but honestly, I dread to even think of the kinds of things I'm gonna see the moment I unlock it.

Best to just drink my problems away, and forget about the miserable night I've just had.

A few minutes had passed, and after showing my ID and everything, I was finally allowed inside, and the moment I entered, I was greeted by intoxicating fumes of tobacco and liquor. It may sound bad, but it's actually rather comforting.

"¿Día duro?" (Rough day?) The bartender asks, examining my body language and facial expressions. "You could say that." I sigh, massaging my temples. "Anything you have in mind?" He asks, passing my the menu. "Anything that'll help me forget this day." I say.

"That bad, huh?" He chuckles, mixing a few drinks and serving another customer. "Oh, you have no idea." I frown. "A Moscow Mule sound good?" He questions, already fetching the ingredients. "Double the Vodka." I instruct, and he nods, already excited to make the drink.

"I can't believe I actually agreed into going."

I bit my lip nervously, going through the last couple of lines of my scripts. "Why the hell should I apologize for something he asked for?!" I then snap, crumpling the paper a little. "Y/N, easy there." Mandy speeds up a little. "Do you want your job back, or not?" She raises her brows.

"Not like this-" I scoff, tossing the paper away. "Shut up." She rolls her eyes. "It's just one word." She adds. "Yeah, one word that holds absolutely no regards to me." I scoff. "Who cares? You don't have to actually mean it." She says.

"Then why's it mentioned in the script?" I ask. "So that you can bury the fucking hatchet!" She snaps. "I don't bury hatchets. I sharpen them." I glare at her. "Yeah, and at this rate, you're gonna get stabbed by the very hatchet." She rolls her eyes.

"Look, you don't even have too many things to say." She calms down a little. "All you have to do is to apologize for your aggression, and explain that it was a mistake, and wouldn't happen again." She sighs. "And incase Pablo apologizes to you, you're supposed to forgive him." She adds.

"What do you mean?" I ask. "Wait a minute... He's gonna be there too?!" I ask, shocked. "Didn't Gunther mention that?" She says. "You're on first name basis with him?!" I ask, even more shocked. "Not the point." Mandy scoffs.

"Dude, I can't do this shit-" I panic a little once we reach. "If I, If I see the guy, I will literally punch him!" I scoff, running my hands through my hair. "Stop messing up your hair." Mandy snaps, fixing them again. "And no, you're not pulling off a Will Smith again." She warns.

"Oof- give the guy a break." I sigh, totally forgetting about that incident that took place like ages ago. "Sorry, reporting that case is still one of my biggest flex." She grins. "I can see that." I roll my eyes, drinking some water to cool down a little as we reached back stage.

"Careful-" Mandy fusses as I spill a couple of drops on my shirt. She instantly took out a few tissues, and began drying them. "As it is, I'm not a fan of your sneakers." She then grumbles, smoothing my coat a little. "My outfit's fine. Leave me be-" I defend, pulling myself away.

"Now remember, stick to the script, don't glare, don't snap, don't do anything, actually." Mandy lists. "Try smiling, but it's alright if you don't." She adds. "And DON'T pull off a Will Smith." She repeats, and I shoot her a glare, finding the comparison totally irrelevant.

"Yeah, that's a don't by the way." She refers to my glare, making me roll my eyes. "That too." She adds. "Stop!" I snap at her, highly annoyed. "Sorry." She whispers, and a couple of make-up artists come up to us, powdering my face and all.

I could here everything that was going on since I was backstage, patiently waiting for my cue. "So, back to the malapert incident that took place not too long ago..." The interviewer then starts. "What do you have to say about that, Pablo?" He asks.

"I uh..." The familiar voice stutters a little, before pausing for about a minute or so. "It all just happened too quick..." He then starts. "What I did was wrong, and I had to right to react that way, and disrespect anyone like that." He says, making me roll my eyes.

"If I could take any of it back, I would." He then adds. "But in my defense, the question asked to me was rather invasive, and obviously something extremely private." He says. "It seemed more like an accusation, and it was neither the time, not the place to bombard me with such absurd questions." He adds.

Fair point.

"I mean, the defeat of the match still was fresh." He sighs. "But that doesn't justify the way I reacted." He quickly says. "Thank you for your statement." The host says, and there was an applause to be heard from the crowd.

"Have you had any contact from the reporters and the journalists from that day? Or perhaps even the girl you pushed." The host resumes. "Unfortunately not." He sighs. "If there's any way I could apologize to the girl, I would." He then adds, making me roll my eyes.

Irrespective of how genuine he seemed right now, I knew that it was all an act. It was as scripted as my statement. Zero ounce of sincerity. "Maybe there is..." The host then says, and a cheer erupts from the crowd. 

"My life is a fart."

A week had gone by, and the slanderous clip from last week was still all everyone could talk about. It had circulated world-wide, and rather than Amanda being blamed for it, I was the 'audacious' journalist being slammed for it for attacking a professional footballer like that.

It had affected me so much, that I haven't stepped a foot outside my hotel room ever since. All the articles I wrote were being rejected by my firm, no new firms were as good as the one I worked at, and none of them ever reverted to my applications either.

Some people even managed to track down my social medias, and wouldn't stop shaming me, calling me a bully and shit. Well, who's the bully now, huh? I merely stood up for myself. I don't care how rich, or successful someone is.

I'm still gonna treat them the way they treat me.

Personally, I feel that everyone is overreacting. But the thing with the news is that it's never accurate. It's basically like a game of Chinese-whisper. Only an hour ago, I saw a YouTube video explaining the events that took place the other day in a detailed manner.

And boy, it couldn't have been more fallacious.

According to that video, a scandalous girl rushed up to Gavi, and begged him to have her babies. When she didn't respond, she charged at him aggressively, and tripped before she could attack him. Embarrassed and rejected, she shoved him away, calling him an asshole for rejecting her proposal.

The only thing that video got right was me calling him an asshole. But once again, the reason behind it was wrong. How do people even come up with such creative shit? Like honestly, if I weren't so upset, I'd actually be impressed with the nerve of some people.

Though I couldn't bother myself to care more, I knew that things weren't very rosy for Gavi either. Some rumors say that he might get kicked out of his club, but obviously that's not true. He's one of the best players Barca has to offer. Only an idiot would let him go.

"Alright, I've had enough of this." I hear Mandy say again, snapping me outta my thoughts. "Talk to her yourself, please." She tells someone else. "Who are you talking to?" I ask, my face still buried into my pillow as I laid on the bed on my stomach.

"Uh, hello? Ms. L/N." A deep voice spoke up. "She's dead." I reply, voice still muffled. "Alright, Ms. L/N, I understand you're upset, but I'm going to need you to listen to me now." The voice spoke again. "Who even are you bro?" I question.

"Gunther Buchenwald." The man answers flatly, and I shot up outta bed, eyes wide open. He was the founder, and the CEO of my firm. "Holy shit- Is this a joke?" I ask, not believing my eyes. "Unfortunately not." He sighs, lowkey regretting this already.

"Your friend, Ms. Osborne, I believe, managed to contact me, and inform me of your case." He then starts. "I went through your records, and from what I've read, you seem to be a very promising individual." He says.

"Which is why, I've decided to aid you through this mess you have gotten in." He informs. The moment those words left his mouth, I held my breath, eyes wide open, heartbeats fastening. "My secretary, Janice, has already slotted an interview for you." He says.

"What for?" I question, confused. "To talk about the scandalous clip from last week, and diffuse the tension." He replies. "So like, they're gonna ask me to talk about it or something?" I ask. "Something like that." He replies. 

"I believe Janice has already mailed you the script you need to learn." He then adds. "Our team has joined forces with the managers of the club, and figured that this was possibly the only way to get the two of you out of this vast cesspool you both have dug yourselves into." He scoffs.

"Stick to the script, play along, and I think everything should be fine." He assures. "T-thank you so much, sir." I bit my lip, still tryna register everything that just happened. "Don't let this repeat." He simply warns.

"Uh, yessir!" I salute for absolutely no reason whatsoever, making Amanda glance at me weirdly. "Good luck, Ms. L/N." He clears his throat. "Something tells me you're going to need it." He then sighs, hanging up before I could thank him again.

Welp, this was... random.

"How the fuck did you manage to contact the fucking CEO?" I then ask Mandy, who doesn't reply, but simply laughs, walking away. "Seriously, how did you?" I rush up to her, not believing my luck. "Ain't no way I'm giving away my sources like that." She scoffs.

"Fine." I roll my eyes, realizing that I probably didn't have much time left to argue, considering that I had a script to learn. "When even is this whole... Interview thing?" I then ask her, switching my laptop on to go through my mail.

"Walk faster!"

Mandy grabs my hand, dragging me along with her to the crowd, where she pushed past everyone, wanting to get a better look. We both made our way through, and outside the locked doors, waiting for the players to exit, and bombard them with questions.

Since it was all too chaotic for me, I just went to the corner, and sat on the ground, taking out my notepad, and writing a few things, waiting for the night to come to an end. After about 5 minutes had past, I heard screams and squeals from fangirls and reporters.

I just looked up, and got up to see if it really was them. I couldn't see a thing, but could hear everything, so I decided to join Amanda, and began pushing past the crowd. "Frenkie, is it true that you forgot to wear your lucky socks tonight?" I heard one reporter ask.

"Pedri, is it true that you're planning to adopt your fellow teammate, Pablo Gavi, some day?" Another lady asks, making me laugh a little. Honestly, wouldn't be shocked if Pedri indeed pulls off some shit like that. "Pedri, is it true that Gavi is secretly your son?" Someone asks.

Sheesh- The questions people ask nowadays.

"Gavi! Gavi, over here!" I hear Amanda's voice squeak a little, attracting the player's attention. "Alright, outta the way now buds." I aggressively shove the reporters in front of me, knowing that I had to stop her, but unfortunately, I was too late.

It's all that yellow-haired guy's fault! He's too tall and strong for me to push-

"Gavi! Is it true that you cheated on your ex-girlfriend, Polly Haywire, with her twin sister, who you found to be more attractive?" Amanda asks, and unfortunately, she was a bit too loud, for everyone around had already heard it, and nothing but silence followed the question.

Gavi, who seemed to be in a hurry to leave earlier, was now frozen, staring at her blankly. Everyone was recording her now, and taking pictures. His muscles seemed to have tensed up a little, and his breathing got heavier, but there was no reaction that followed whatsoever.

"Excuse me?" He calmly asks, raising his brows in disbelief. "Did you cheat on Polly Haywire, and if yes, then why?" Amanda repeats without stuttering, the regret visible in her forest green eyes. The anger on Gavi's face was now replaced with pain and disappointment.

"Fucking reporters..." He scoffs, looking around, at us all, before glaring back at Amanda, who squirmed uncomfortably in her position. "Go to hell." He spoke louder, face turning red with the rage he was withholding.

"ALL of you!" He yells, about to explode. His anger taking control now. Amanda's eyes were wide open, and I just held my breath for some strange reason, not even realizing why. Everyone was frozen. Only the sounds of the camera's flashing were heard 

"Move!" He then commands, turning back to leave, shoving me away as I was in his way. I don't think he saw me very well, for I'm sure he wouldn't have been so harsh otherwise. Due to the force, I landed on the ground, twisting my ankle a little.

"Y/N!" Amanda calls loudly, rushing over to me to help me up, making Gavi turn back to see what happened. He froze dead in his tracks when he realized what he had done. "I am so sorry-" He quickly approaches me, instant regret replacing his enraged face.

"God- you asshole!" I shot back, helping myself up, and shoving him instead. Sure, it wasn't THAT effective, but it wasn't entirely pathetic either. "What the hell was that?!" I scream, my blood boiling. "Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?" I yell, unable control my temper now.

I had just been humiliated in front of the entire world-

"I knew we should've just stayed at the hotel tonight!" I then snap at Amanda, who stood behind me, startled by my reaction. "Good luck for your future reports, because I won't be there!" I then snap, throwing down my pens and notepad, storming away and pushing past the dude who just shoved me.

My shoulder hit his, pushing him away slightly as I continued walking, trying to ignore the cameras that were recording this, and trying to capture my face and expressions. "Vamos amigo, salgamos de aquí..." I then heard one of his teammates sigh, but I don't turn back.

"You sure you wanna ask that? It seems kinda personal..."

The match had only 10 more minutes to go, and from what it seemed like, Barca's chances of winning were very slim now. Score was 5-1, and the only goal scored by Barca was actually an accidental self-goal by number 18 from Madrid. 

Sure, there were 2 more goals scored by other players too, but those weren't really counted due to it being an offside. 8 minutes to go, and someone just fouled Pedri Gonzalez real bad. It's next to impossible to defeat Real Madrid now.

I continued jotting down certain points to include in my article, waiting for Amanda to react. "It IS personal." She finally sighs, finishing learning all of her questions. "You really think it's appropriate to ask a question as invasive as that, given the current circumstances?" I raise my brow at her.

"You don't get it Y/N. I HAVE to ask him that." She frowns. "I really think you shouldn't." I mumble, sipping on some water, eyeing the frustrated player who just banged his fists against the ground before getting up and tripping someone.

Oop-

"What's the worst that could happen?" She then shrugs, brushing her nervousness off, pretending as if she never witnessed number 30's reaction. "Oh, I don't know... Probably his PR team suing you?" I reply casually.

"And his crazy fangirls hiring people on the Dark Web to assassinate you." I think about it a little. "Oh, and the whole interview backfiring on you, resulting in it failing miserably, and you losing your job." I list, before she shot me a glare, somewhat tensed up.

"Or maybe he'll just ignore you and walk past." I gulp, and she just rolls her eyes, looking away, her gorgeous green eyes following the sprinting player, who was just tackled by number 11. "He sure doesn't seem like the sorts to go down without a fight." She murmurs, watching him trip 11 the very next minute.

Yep, that's the spirit!

Unfortunately, it was a foul, and now Madrid had to take a penalty kick. Two more minutes were left, and we all knew that Barca's fate had already been sealed that minute, but none of the players actually appeared to have lost any hope yet.

The determination was impressive. Won't forget to mention this in my article. As I finished noting that point, I saw number 36 take the penalty kick, but before it could go inside the goal, one of the players from Barca leaped up high, and managed to block it with his face.

He fell to the ground, clutching his forehead, but was quickly helped up by his fellow teammate. He certainly wasn't the sorts to shy away from danger, now was he? Pablo Martin Páez fucking Gavira. Alright, at this point, it sounds more like a sentence than a name.

Gavi, it is!

And yes, that was him right now too, who was charging towards the opponent's goalpost, effortlessly dodging the defenders that came at him, trying to tackle him, or perhaps, even trip him. But he was unstoppable!

And right when he was about to score...

"GOAL!" Majority of the stadium shot up and roared and applauded and cheered, but unfortunately, the match had already ended, right before the goal was scored. Just 4 seconds before the ball entered the goal. Dang.

Tears filled the confused scorer's bruised face, but they weren't tears of sorrow. They were the tears of failure, and the anger than came along with it. He looked around, defenseless, but when his fellow teammates approached him, he just took off in the other direction, and towards the lockers.

My eyes widened at the sight I just witnessed. It was a good match, but I couldn't help but feel bad for the player. Not just because he lost the game, but because I knew that he had a lot more coming for him soon.

"You sure you wanna ask him that?" I turn to my flustered best friend, who was shamelessly ogling over Gonzalez, not ever bothered about what just happened to the paparazzi's latest victim. "Amanda!" I call louder.

My voice seemed to have snapped Amanda outta whatever trance she was put under, and her hungry eyes just roamed around the field, looking for Gavi, who was obviously no where to be seen. Before any of us could say anything, our attention was captured by several reporters and journalists, sprinting towards the locker room that the player had just entered.

"DIE MOSQUITO DIEEEEE!"

Bahaha, that showed them.

"Wake the fuck up!" An ear-piercing shriek startled me, snapping me outta my slumber, making me shoot outta bed, gasping for air. "Were you dreaming about killing mosquitoes?" Amanda Osborne, my colleague, and best friend questions, completely weirded out, and somewhat disgusted too.

"Uh... No?" I answer, averting my gaze from hers awkwardly. "Oh my-" Her expression now changed to an amused one as she began chuckling. "Hey, you should've seen how huge they were!" I defend myself, mildly annoyed. "I seriously don't get what's with you and mosquito apocalypses though-" She snorts.

I just throw my pillow at her, shutting her up for a second or two. "What is it? Why'd you wake me up?" I then ask her, changing the topic, rubbing my eyes. "Mostly because you were cackling very evilly, and it was concerning." She scoffs. "But we have to leave soon anyway." She then adds.

"Leave? Where?" I question, completely lost. "We only got here like an hour ago." I remind. "Actually, we got here 6 hours ago." She corrects. "And I already told you about the game we have to attend today." She replies. "The soccer one?" I recall. "Call it that one more time, and I WILL cut your tongue out." She glares at me.

"Noted." I gulp, knowing that she wasn't kidding. "Do we have to go though?" I then asks, yawning lazily, too exhausted after that flight we had, all the way from Y/O/P. "Are you seriously asking me that?" She raises her brows at me. "Of course we do! It's the final match of the season!" She yells.

"So why can't you just go interview the players, and come back to the hotel and give me the details, so I can finish writing about it before midnight." I suggest. "Y/N, I'm not gonna tell you again how very important this gig is for me." She takes in a deep breath, tryna remain calm.

"It's the only chance I have to prove my daft mother wrong." She rolls her eyes, intertwining her fingers and looking down. Right, I almost forgot about her mommy issues. Her sister told me about their fight too before she managed to book a flight to Spain. Her mother always doubted her, and wouldn't really let her do anything.

"Fine, you're right, I'm sorry." I finally give in, slowly standing up and stretching a little. "Excellent." She smiles. "Now go get dressed. And hurry!" She urges, walking over to our unpacked suitcases and bags. "We're gonna be late!" She then exclaims, checking her watch for the time.

"Chill- I won't take long." I roll my eyes, walking over to her. "That's what you said while using the restroom before our flight, and we almost missed it cuz of how long you take to pee." She scoffs. "Hey, I have a shy bladder, okay?" I defend. "I can't pee under pressure." I roll my eyes, looking for something to wear.

"Shouldn't be that bad." I finally exit the bathroom after changing into something professional. "Don't forget to carry a jacket along. It might get cold." Mandy reminds, changing into her outfit, which was a tad bit more professional than mine, since she was the one going on screen. All I had to do was write about it.

I didn't necessarily mind it though. I was great at my job, and she was at hers. Besides, I always had more control over my writing than I did over my words. "Hurry up, Amanda! I thought we were running late." I roll my eyes, putting my sneakers on.

"Please don't kill your outfit like that." She comes outta the bathroom, her otherwise curly hair, completely straightened now. "What do you mean?" I ask, checking myself out in the mirror. "Casual and professional? Not a good combo." She brushes her hair.

"It's the perfect combo!" I scoff. "You know what, nevermind. We have to go now anyway." She sighs, giving up. She does her make up, and I scroll through my phone, patiently waiting for her, fighting off my drowsiness.

Barca is playing against Madrid tonight, and it's the final game of the season, and the one everyone has been looking forward to. We're extremely lucky to be posted here, especially together, but I'm kinda regretting signing the contract on such short notice. Sure, it's a great opportunity and stuff, but it's also extremely tiresome.

I enjoyed what I did as there was literally nothing I didn't know. All the tea belonged to me, and due to that reason, it was never too hard for me to make friends everywhere I went. But it's not as glamorous as it seems. I get underpaid sometimes, and most of the credit always goes to my bosses, rather than me.

And as for the friends... What even is the point of them? Like they only use me for gossips anyway. Nothing I'm gonna get out of it. Amanda's probably one of the only genuinely people I've come across in life so far, and though she can get extremely eccentric at times, and has many flaws, I'd never trade our friendship for anything.

But while she's gonna be busy reporting the match, or learning her script or questions to ask the players after the matches, I'm gonna have to be the one paying attention to every small details, and not get distracted by the creepy, horny old men that always try hitting on me. And the prepubescent monkeys too.

"You done yet?" I toss my phone away, getting bored of watching random 'life-saving' and 'self-defense' hacks. Not like I'm actually gonna use or apply any of them anyway. The scenarios are highly unlikely to actually happen. And as for self-defense? Well, nothing a kick in the nuts can't fix.

"Almost." Mandy replies, applying some gloss. "You could've just let me sleep for a little while longer." I roll my eyes, laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. "Patience, human." She says. "There's a lotta potential prospect out there waiting." She walks up to me, finally finished. "We've gotta look out best." She then shrugs.

"Potential prospects." I repeat, crossing my arms and getting up. "Hot guys, Y/N." She sighs. "You know the kind of effects sportsmen have on me." She then adds. "Please stop. You're making me wanna throw up again." I cut her off before she could remind me of those horrendous details.

"C'mon... You can't deny how tempted you must be right now to see him." She smirks. "See who?" I ask, checking my phone for the time impatiently, a little cranky now due to how jet-lagged I was. Nothing a good night's sleep can't fix, but that was the very thing denied to me. "Amanda, who is it?!" I ask again, annoyed at that stupid face she was making.

HELLO MY LITTLE ZUCCHINI CROISSANTS! HOW ARE YOU?

Firstly, thanks for choosing to read this book, it means a lot to me, and I hope y'all like it. It's the first time I'm writing something about a real person, and the first time I'm writing on Tumblr, actually, so incase I'm doing something incorrectly, do feel free to correct me, and let me know on how to improve.

Secondly, I'm also gonna be listing a few abbreviations so that y'all can imagine yourselves while reading this because personally I like to think of myself as the mc, and hope that that's the case for most of you as well.

1. Y/N: Your Name 2. L/N: Last Name 3. Y/H/C: Your Hair Color 4. Y/H/L: Your Hair Length 5. Y/H/T: Your Hair Type 6. Y/E/C: Your Eye Color 7. Y/H: Your Height 8. Y/A: Your Age 9. Y/B/T: Your Body Type 10. Y/S/T: Your Skin Tone 11. Y/O/P: Your Old Place (Wherever you live rn or moved from.)

And incase some of you are insecure of being yourselves, you can always imagine someone else... OR, you can finally realize how perfect you are, no matter what anyone else says, and embrace your beauty already!

(Here's a character sketch anyway for those of you who prefer reading fics with OCs)

1. Y/N: Gia 2. L/N: Parker 3. Y/H/C: Black 4. Y/H/L: Mid-length 5. Y/H/T: Straight/wavy 6. Y/E/C: Grey 7. Y/H: 5'2-5'4 8. Y/A: 18 9. Y/B/T: Idk, any? 10. Y/S/T: Any, but slightly tanned 11. Y/O/P: New York

Anyways, moving on...

I'll still be referring to the mc as Y/N, and not Gia though cuz I still want y'all to imagine yourselves, and I kinda suck at designing OC's.

This story contains strong language and mature themes and some topics that can trigger some readers. (For example, blood, gore, extreme violence, sexual assault and stuff).

Please either skip those parts, or ditch this story as I just want all my readers to be comfortable, safe and healthy and enjoy my work.

Most of those topics might not be mentioned at all. But just incase they are, I'll provide a trigger warning before proceeding so that it becomes easier to skip those parts.

Once again, I hope y'all like my work, and if y'all do, don't forget to like it, repost it and comment as it's really motivating and stuff and keeps the book alive.

Remember, if you ever want to vent to a stranger, I'll always be there for you so feel free to dm me any time.

With that being said... What're you waiting for?

LESSGOOOO 🤍🤍🤍