chai-berries - Tumblr blog

chai-berries · 12 days ago

Text

BACKGROUND BUSINESS → LUCY BRONZE

𓆩♡𓆪 pairing: lucy bronze x lioness!reader 𓆩♡𓆪 blurb: euros camp is going great, really. there's successful training sessions, good camaraderie, and even fun online challenges. unfortunately, sometimes those challenges catch unwanted things in the background. you and lucy learn this the hard way. 𓆩♡𓆪 word count: 3.5k 𓆩♡𓆪 warnings: accidental relationship exposure, two curse words but it's mainly fluff/bad humour

The lounge area of camp is a hubbub of activity as always, especially after your win against the Netherlands. Everyone knows they can’t afford to relax just yet, with one group game still to go, but there is a much more pleasant atmosphere than after the loss to France. It feels like the whole team is gathered in the lounge area, spread amongst the different tables as they loudly chatter amongst themselves. Most of the noise fades into the background to you. You’re fairly used to blocking out the chaos around you and honing focus on whoever is in your direct vicinity. In football, that’s a skill you have to build.

So, whilst you’re sure something interesting is happening in the corner from Tooney’s screams of delight, and the laughter that floats over occasionally, you give your full attention to the current conversation at your table.

You’re relaxed on a sofa against the wall, Lucy next to you as she remains in deep discussion with Beth and Georgia on the chairs across from you. They’re discussing penalties, statistics and mathematical decisions you don’t particularly understand. You’re mainly there for the company and to add in the occasional exclamation about great goalkeepers you’ve faced – the maths side means nothing to you. It was never a favourite subject of yours; in fact you would have been quite happy if you never had to face a maths equation again. Even if it was two plus two.

It excites Lucy, though. That goes without saying. Beth mentions probability, and Lucy launches into it, an excited grin on her face as she raises her hands in motion.

You turn your head to the side, watching how Lucy’s eyes crease with excitement over the statistics she knows, and your heart swells at the sight. The two of you could not be more different in your opinions on the subject, but you don’t care. You could listen to your girlfriend talk stats all day (something she utilises whenever you’re at home in London).

By now, after near two years together, you’re plenty used to Lucy going off on one of her famous tangents. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the worst possible time, you would never interrupt her. You may not like math yourself, but hearing the woman you love get excited over her passions and interests? That you like.

Lucy barely passes a glance your way as Beth enthuses about statistics from your recent game, but she casually lifts her arm in an invitation that allows you to settle under it. You waste no time shuffling into her embrace, and Lucy’s hand settles just below your shoulder with a practiced ease. Her fingers immediately start to trace small circles against your exposed skin, yet the conversation doesn’t dull.

Georgia doesn’t care much for the maths side either, but her voice breaks through when Lucy mentions the percentage divide in shots on target “Hey! It’s not my fault De Almeida is like a brick wall to get past on that right-hand side!” She sits back with her arms crossed, a pout on her face although it’s playful in nature, “If I remember correctly some of us were being run in circles by Baltimore.”

You finally gasp, piping up in your conversation in defence of your girlfriend “Sandy is like a rocket when she runs down that side, catching her is like trying to lick your own elbow-–” Beth cuts you off with a cackle at that odd analogy “How much coffee have you been drinking, Y/L/N?”

“She’ll tell you only two cups, but I saw her sneak a third after lunch.” Lucy teases, her arm tightening briefly around your body. You glance up towards her with a pout that matches Georgia’s, but Lucy only grins at Beth as they slip back into an easy conversation. “Statistically–”

That’s all you really catch. The second numbers are thrown out, you once again allow the conversation to fade into the background. Or, at least, that is what your excuse would be. The truth is somewhere down the line, you lose track entirely. Percentages are thrown around the group, voices grow louder, and suddenly Lucy’s voice is changing.

It happens sometimes when she's excited. Even after two years, living together for six months of that, it still catches you off guard. Her accent shifts and changes until suddenly it’s like she had never left Northumberland in her teenage years. You imagine this is how she’d sounded as a child, thick Northern twang lumped on to the end of every sentence. Every few words, something intelligible passes through, though to you, it’s mostly just accented jumbles. You give a helpless look across the table to see if Beth and Georgia are struggling as much as you, only to find them hanging onto every word.

Without thinking about it, you turn her chin towards you with a gentle touch and plant a kiss on her lips. It’s short, barely a second long, but it’s enough to make Lucy stumble in her tracks and look at you with a cheesy grin. “What was that for?” she mumbles, clearly fighting the blush rising to her cheeks.

“You were getting too Northern.” You admit with a slight shrug. “It was the only way to stop you.”

Lucy’s sheepish expression shifts into something more smug. She closes the gap, nuzzling her nose against your cheek as she whispers “I can think of a few other ways.”

She wasn’t quiet enough, it turns out, if the gagging sounds from across the sofa are anything to go by.

–

Esme is sitting in bed when her phone buzzes on the side.

Then it buzzes again.

And again.

It’s practically vibrating away from the bedside table by the time she reaches over to pick it up.

The source of the notifications is quickly clear, her notification centre listing quite a few actions on TikTok. Of course, she had expected a few, but the video she posted a mere thirty minutes ago seemed to be gaining traction quicker than she usually expected.

Intrigued, Esme loads the video and clicks onto the comments. Her voice blares out the speakers in the background, but it’s all passing noise as she focuses on the most popular comments that appear at the top. They all seem to follow a similar theme.

One user has commented, all enthusiastically in large letters ‘ESME DID YOU MEAN TO POST THIS 😭’. Another has simply left a bunch of question marks. Esme frowns, fairly certain the video she had recorded that morning was nothing but a little bit of fun. One comment catches her eye more than anything, a tad more direct than the ones before. @/user3506: did lucy and y/n know they were in the background of this???

Esme frowns to herself, but clicks off the comments and restarts her own video. It starts normally, another random TikTok challenge she had convinced her teammates to get involved in. The video starts with Esme introducing the challenge, a simple intuition game to say the same thing as your partner on the count of three. The first duo in the video is Lauren Hemp and Esme herself, and their attempt is as chaotic on the rewatch as Esme remembers it being at the time.

Next, the camera turns to Alessia and Ella to attempt the same thing. For a moment, Esme is distracted by the fit of giggles the duo descend into on screen when their answers are wildly different.

Then she sees it.

As Ella laughs, loudly and without inhibition, she practically folds over herself. Her shoulders move to centre screen, and behind her in the shot is Lucy and Y/N.

That would be fine on any other day. Lucy’s arm is around Y/N’s shoulder as she talks to their teammates, but that isn’t an uncommon situation around the Lionesses camp.

What is a little more uncommon is Y/N leaning in to land a kiss on Lucy’s lips.

Ella moves back into position then, and the duo in the background disappear. The damage, however, is already done.

Esme drops her phone when it buzzes again, this time more consistently. The screen lights up with a name; it’s only Leah, but she knows exactly what it is about.

She is so doomed.

–

Staying up past curfew hours during camp was a bad habit of yours, but it is always hard not to be awake for hours when you’re rooming with Hannah.

Hannah reminded you of a younger sibling, which made nights together in your shared room feel more like sleepovers where you were hiding from the adults. Most nights you ended up in one bed, cuddled under the sheets as you watched some Disney movie quietly and sang along under your breath. If Sarina or one of the coaching staff had heard, they would surely reprimand the both of you for staying up far too late.

It was why they had paired you with Hannah in the first place, hoping that the two of you, fairly new to each other’s company, would bring out positive habits in one another. They hadn’t roomed you with Lucy on purpose as they knew the two of you would be a fitness coach’s nightmare.

Little did Sarina know that on the first night sharing a room, Hannah and yourself had grown closer than you were with anyone else in the Squad.

Well, besides your girlfriend of course.

By now, the clock fast approaching two in the morning, you were almost certain you’d be the only two awake in camp. Which is why it was such a surprise when your phone buzzed in your lap.

Hannah looked over at the sound, her eyes wide. She’d had the same thought as you it seemed; that one of the coaches had walked past your room and was now reprimanding you for being awake.

You only picked the device up when it buzzed a second time, scowling in confusion when you saw that the notifications were actually from Esme.

esme m: PLEASE DON’T HATE ME

esme m: IT WAS AN ACCIDENT I’M SO SORRY

“What’s she talking about?” Hannah asked. You turned with a shrug to find her looking at the text over your shoulder.

You look back at the text thread with equal parts confusion and concern “I have no clue.”

Just as your fingers hovered over the letters to respond, a knock came on your door. You and Hannah looked at each other at the same time, a slight ominous atmosphere filling the room.

It took a moment for you to drag yourself out of bed. Your feet hit the floor with a gentle pad, and you could feel the dull ache in your heels from that day’s training session. Once you were gone, Hannah seemed to pull the covers further up towards her chest if that was even possible. You didn’t blame her, this whole situation was very out of the ordinary.

Creeping as slowly as you could, you made your way to the bedroom door. A part of you thought that if you took your time, the mystery visitor would vanish before you arrived. Something, an energy, told you that this wasn’t the case.

You had barely lowered the handle before the door pushed open with the force of someone leaning on it and a figure stumbled inside. In the chaos and dim lighting it actually took you a moment to recognise your girlfriend.

“Lucy?” You questioned as she straightened up, looking at the TV screen first before coming back to you “Is everything okay?”

Lucy took a second to recover, her brain clearly still processing your alertness in comparison to her own groggy demeanour. It was clear whatever the disturbance was, it had woken her up.

When she didn’t respond, you prompted once more “Hello? Earth to Lucia-”

“Have you not seen?” She blinked down at you, confused. The TV glow cast a slight shadow over face, accentuating what you could only assume were frown lines from the situation.

Your words came out slowly, careful as you gauged the situation “Seen what..?”

Hannah had clearly filled herself in on the situation, for there was a gasp coming from the bed. She practically leapt over to stand between you and the defender. Her phone was being thrust in your face, screen recordings from a TikTok video that had clearly been deleted, but fans were already sharing on Twitter.

You yelped when you saw it. You and Lucy, kissing in the background. It was a clear image as well, you wouldn’t even be able to blame it on bad angles or lighting. Your heads were both turned to the side, and the camera had a perfect view of your interlocked lips. The kiss had been so small, so fast in your memory, but the video seemed to make it stretch out for hours.

Glancing down at the name of the original poster, it all suddenly made sense, and you had never been more torn.

On the one hand, you wanted to scream in frustration. You and Lucy had worked so hard to keep your relationship a secret. Dynamics within football, and within teams especially could become complicated. Football was inherently political, and the two of you had wanted the privacy to figure out your own things. By the time your relationship had blossomed into something consistent, Lucy had transferred to Chelsea, and that gave a new level of why you didn’t want the relationship being exposed. Playing for Arsenal yourself, you had never wanted situations to arise where coaches or high profile club members used you against one another for their own gain. It was something you and Lucy had always been very adamant about. In fact, the only people who really knew about your relationship were your national teammates and coaching staff and your families.

On the other hand, your heart ached for poor Esme. You could practically picture her sitting in her own room, a shaking ball of anxiety. The thought made you sigh as you looked back up at your girlfriend.

Lucy was a private person, that much was obvious. She had never particularly been one to show off her personal life beyond Narla, and you had always agreed on that. Despite this, you knew that she didn’t have as much to lose as you considering how hard she had already fought to make a name for herself. You were up and coming, and something like this could shift the way the public viewed you if you weren’t to handle it correctly.

And so, when you met her eyes you could read her thoughts clear as day. She wasn’t bothered about the video coming out for her own sake; she was concerned for you. The way she watched you said it all, her expression screaming the question: Are you okay?

You took a deep breath, the air around you feeling too warm under her concerned gaze. All you could do was take a step back and sit on the end of your own bed. Lucy followed you immediately, opting not to sit but crouch down in front of you. For a moment you nearly forced her back up, worried for her existing leg injury, but you knew you would be foolish to try and stop her from fretting over you.

Hannah remained where she was, and when you looked back over at her, you saw her creeping away with a timid, yet knowledgeable smile. Somewhere in the madness, she had grabbed some personal items from the side, mainly her phone charger and book. Through the silence she whispered “I’ll give you guys some space.”

Lucy nodded, but she didn’t turn her head away from watching you. She simply offered “LJ is alone now in our room if you want to go there” and then focused all of her attention on your expression.. You assumed Hannah nodded at that, but all you heard was the door closing before Lucy’s hands were taking your own and your brain was shutting down. “This is okay, right?” You mumbled, scared to speak too loudly to break the solace of the space. Lucy simply pursed her lips, letting out a heavy breath “It is if you want it to be.”

You considered her for a moment. Crouched down in front of you almost as though she were in worship. Looking into her eyes that were filled with so much care and concern made your heart stop. Every time you and Lucy looked at one another, you thought it was impossible for her gaze to ever appear more loving than the time before. You were always wrong. Every relationship you had been in before had never made you understand what people meant when they called it the ‘look of love’. How could someone express so much just with their eyes, after all? Lucy taught you how. You knew she loved you before she even said it the first time, all from the way she watched you.

The way she held your gaze now made all of the tightness in your chest melt away.

So, instead of freaking out like you had wanted to moments ago, you simply reached your thumb and forefinger up to tap her chin. Lucy responded with ease, allowing you to tilt her chin further up. With the new angle, you were able to lean forward and down, kissing her like your life depended on it. Which sometimes you felt like it did. Lucy moved fast, stretching up onto her knees until she was level with you. Her hand snaked from your knee to the back of your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps along your pyjama clad skin. When her fingers tangled in the hair at the back of your neck, you were tugged closer to her body; further into the kiss. You welcomed it with a content sigh into Lucy’s mouth, the action being met with a small tug to your hair.

By the time you broke apart you were breathless, and it seemed your girlfriend was too. She leaned her forehead against yours, hand releasing your hair but slipping around to cup your chin.

The two of you stayed there like that for a while, before you broke the silence with a whisper. Whether quiet or not, you were certain of the one thing that made everything easier. “I love you.”

Lucy pulled back slightly, looking you in the eye with a hesitant smile. You could see her cocked eyebrow though, questioning how you had gotten here from your previous panic.

“I just realised that it doesn’t matter if the world knows or not,” you offered, a quiet confidence moving through your shoulders “I love you and that’s all that does matter.”

Your girlfriend watched you quizzically, then with amusement, and finally with a sort of disbelief. “You’re so fucking cheesy.”

“Good job you’re not lactose intolerant–”

“Get out!”

“This is my room!”

Then she was kissing you again, this time through a smile that you shared. It made the action a little harder, more teeth than anything as you both giggled into it, but you could care less. This time, when she pulled away, you both knew the answer to how you were going to handle it.

“At least this means I can post photos of you and Naz now.” Lucy offered, and you had to laugh over that being the first thing on her mind.

You smiled anyway, tugging Lucy up to sit on the bed with you. She did so with some effort, clearly feeling the ache in her leg although she would deny it if you asked. It didn’t stop you from placing your hand on her thigh with a gentle massaging motion, though.

Suddenly you froze, straightening up “God–I need to go speak to Esme! She must be so panicked!”

Somehow through your fear, you had started making moves to leave the room, but Lucy’s hands linked around your waist to stop you. Instead of tugging you back to the bed, she managed to angle you into her lap.

“She’s okay, don’t worry,” Lucy chuckled, the sound vibrating close to your ear, “Lauren is with her. I’ve said we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

That placated you at least, and you allowed yourself to go limp in her arms, not bothering to give a full response. “Although I reckon we should have some fun with her.” Lucy perked up again, an idea clearly popping into her head “We could pretend it’s made us fall out–”

“No!” You cut off immediately, laughing at the way Lucy’s eyes sparkled with mischief. You wouldn’t think she was the oldest on the team sometimes from the way she acted. “We are not doing that to the poor girl!”

“Oh come on, not even a little prank?”

“No, go to sleep.”

Lucy looked around the room, acutely aware of the now empty space, and you in her lap. She’d only gotten halfway through the eyebrow wiggle and a “Well, if we’ve got the place to ourselves…” before you picked yourself up from her lap and walked around to the bedside with a groan.

“You’re gross and insatiable!”

“What? I was suggesting we finish The Lion King, you know it’s my favourite. God get your mind out of the gutter woman!”

yourusername just posted a photo

liked by esme.morgan and 74,901 others

yourusername well fuck it. happy pride.

a/n: hello hello. did i create a whole new side blog for this just because the idea has been running around in my mind for the last month? maybe. oops. more to come. live laugh lucy bronze. all that.

#sooo fluffy!!!!#to be in love with lucy #lucy bronze x reader #rpf x reader #woso x reader #fic rec

296 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 12 days ago

Text

Too Long

Warnings: Smut, GP!Character

Word Count: 4676

Summary: When you sit on Angela’s lap during a Smosh Live, you end up getting a little more than you bargained for

A/N: Instead of writing for Angela's birthday, I wrote for my own. Happy Halloween everyone!

Five days. It’s been five days since the last time you had sex with your girlfriend. While that isn’t necessarily a long time, it’s well above the average time you go between sleeping together, and it has you frustrated. It doesn’t help that Angela has been teasing you all week, either. It’s just a few sly little comments here and there, nothing that would out your relationship to the rest of the cast or the viewers, but enough that it’s driving you crazy.

Figuring that it’s time to get Angela back for everything that she’s done this week, you formulate a plan that is sure to rile her up in the best way possible. The live stream happening right now is the perfect opportunity, so you head down to the stage where it’s shooting. You open the door and quietly shut it behind you, then turn around to see your girlfriend sitting on the games couch playing video games with Shayne, Chanse, Courtney, and Amanda.

“Hey, Y/N,” Alex says as you walk deeper into the room. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” you reply. “Was just curious about what they were playing this week.”

“Mario Party. Winners version.”

“Nice.”

“You want to hop in?” Alex asks. “They could all use some help.”

“Sure. Do you want me to mic up?”

“Please.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be back in a minute.”

You walk over to the other side of the room, where the sound team is monitoring the live stream. One of them immediately comes over with another mic and helps you put it on, clipping it to the front of your shirt before handing you the transmitter. You slip it into your back pocket as you turn around and head back over to Alex. He waits until Chanse finishes his turn, then nods at you to go out.

“I heard you guys could use a little help,” you say, smiling as your castmates look up from the television. “Who’s winning?”

“Shayne, of course,” Amanda says with a little eye roll. “The rest of us suck.”

“Hey, do not!” Chanse says, half offended. “But I would not be opposed to a team up.”

“Alex, who do you want me with?” you ask, looking back at the director.

“Who ever’s in last place,” Alex replies.

“That would be me,” Angela says with an adorable pout on her face.

“Oh, this is so not fair,” Courtney says, throwing her head back. “She’s a professional gamer.”

“I’m really not,” you murmur, blushing a little bit.

“Really? What’s you CoD ranking again?”

“3rd? But it might have gone down because I haven’t had as much time to play.”

“3rd in the country is pretty good,” Shayne says.

“Uh, I’m not-”

“She means third in the world, babe,” Courtney says.

“Well, we’re fucked,” Amanda breathes out.

“Wait a minute, do we have CoD?” Chanse asks.

“I think we have Modern Warfare,” Alex replies from behind the camera. “Why?”

“What if we played that instead?”

“You’re just saying that because you’re in forth place,” Amanda teases.

“No, think about it. We have one of the best players in the world right here and we’re gonna play Mario Party? I mean, I just think it would be cooler to see if we can beat her.”

“I’m down,” Angela says. “Let’s see what Chat says.”

“They’re down,” Alex says as he scrolls through comments on his laptop. “Alright, let’s switch it over to the PS4.”

When two of the tech guys come onto the stage and get to work on switching the consoles, you decide that now is the perfect time to shoot your shot. You walk over to where Angela is sitting on the couch, but instead of plopping down next to her, you sit on her lap. She lets out a strangled gasp behind you, but she recovers quickly enough to play it off when she catches a couple of confused looks.

As soon as everyone’s attention is elsewhere, you subtly shift your ass back so that it’s pressed directly into Angela’s cock. It’s already semi-hard, which isn’t really a surprise, but as you settle into position, you can feel it getting harder. A flood of warmth rushes to your core, and it takes every ounce of self control that you have to keep yourself from rolling your hips back into her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Angela whispers, leaning in to your ear.

“Sitting?” you reply, shooting a purposely confused look over your shoulder.

“Don’t be fucking smart with me. You won’t like what you get from it.”

“Really? Because I think I’m getting exactly what I want.”

“And what’s that?” Angela grits out, trying to keep her voice low.

“Revenge,” you say, sending her a smirk over your shoulder. “I’ve had to take care of myself the last two nights. I think this is the least you deserve.”

“Wait, what?”

“Sex, Ange. We haven’t had any since Sunday morning.”

“Fuck, it can’t have been…”

“It was.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Angela says, looking genuinely upset. “How can I make it up to you, baby?”

“I have a few ideas.”

Angela opens her mouth to reply, but one of the tech guys comes over and hands you each a controller, and then Alex is getting everything set up. He loads up the game, and from there goes into the multiplayer server. Everyone connects their controllers to the console, and then you all start selecting your weapons. As soon as you’re done with that, you choose one of the easier 6 vs 6 maps and start the game.

Over the course of the next half an hour, you find yourself picking off enemy fighters one by one. It’s easy, none of your castmates play at the level that you do, and neither do any of the other players that are on the multiplayer server. You rack up a number of double and triple kills before deciding to turn it down a notch so that some of your teammates can have the fun.

Once you pull back a little bit, you start manhunting for individual castmates on the enemy team every round. You start with Courtney, who ends up being relatively easy to track and take out from a distance, and then you go after Shayne, who you sneak up on while he’s trying to kill Chanse. After a few rounds of honing your hunting skills, Alex calls for the last round and you decide that it’s time to go after your girlfriend.

Trying to hunt down Angela is a little bit harder than hunting down everyone else, if only because she had played with you enough times to know most of your tricks. She manages to avoid any open spaces, instead posting up inside a building that only has one entrance. You managed to sneak inside while she distracted by an enemy combatant out the window, but she manages to turn around just in time to shoot you at the same time you shoot her.

“NO!” you say, watching the kill screen flash across your part of the TV.

“Holy shit, Angela!” Chanse says excitedly. “You just killed her!”

“I think we might have found the one video game you’re actually good at,” Shayne says.

“If I was actually good at it, I wouldn’t have died,” Angela says, though she’s smiling.

“You should give yourself more credit,” you say, looking over your shoulder at your girlfriend. “You’re only like, the fourteenth person to kill me.”

“Fourteenth?” Amanda asks, impressed.

“Yeah, I don’t die often, especially in multiplayer.”

“That’s impressive,” Shayne admits. “You want to sign us off?”

“Sure!” you say, turning to look at the camera. “This was so much fun guys! Please let us know what you want to see next, or if we should do this again. Don’t forget to subscribe and turn on notifications so you never miss a live stream. Until next time, bye guys!”

“Bye!” your castmates echo.

The little light that indicates that the video feed is live goes off, and you immediately let out a sigh as you sink back into Angela. She puts her hands on your waist to steady you, but you know that you have to get up within the next couple of seconds if you want to avoid questioning from your castmates. With a heavy breath, you get up and then reach back to offer your girlfriend a hand. She takes it, letting you help her up with a small smile.

“How’d you get so good at CoD, Ange?” Chanse asks. “You and Shayne were the only two people besides Y/N who could play. I expected him, but you…”

“We play together a lot,” Angela replies with a shrug. “Usually we’re on the same team, so playing against her was a little different, but I think it was fun.”

“It was,” you say with a smile. “I’m still major league impressed that you killed me.”

“It was a lucky shot. I just happened to turn around with with my finger already on the trigger.”

“Still, it was impressive,” Amanda says.

“Maybe,” Angela says with a shrug. “Anyways, we should probably head out. The crew is gonna wanna go home at some point.”

“True,” Courtney agrees. “Shayne and I were gonna grab some drinks at the bar down the street, do you guys want to join us?”

“Yeah, I’m down,” Chanse says. “Manda?”

“Sure,” Amanda replies, before looking over at you and Angela. “You guys in?”

“Sorry, but I’ve got a couple things that I need to finish up for a project,” Angela replies.

“And I have a meeting with my agent, so I’m out,” you reply, feeling a little bit guilty for the blatant lie that just came out of your mouth. “Rain check?”

“Of course, any time,” Courtney says. “Well, good luck with your stuff, see you all next week.”

Everyone says their goodbyes, and then you all start heading out towards the main office space. You stop by your desk to grab your bag, then head over to meet Angela by hers so that you can head out together. As soon as she’s gathered her stuff, you walk out to her car together in comfortable silence. You climb into the passenger side as she hops into the driver’s seat, shutting her door as she puts the keys in the ignition. Before she starts the car, though, she turns to you.

“I’m sorry,” Angela says softly.

“Baby, it’s fine,” you reply, reaching over to take her hand. “I get it, we’re both busy, and sometimes we forget about things that are important to us.”

“Maybe, but I never want to forget to take care of you. You deserve better than that. I truly do want to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

“Of course I will. I love you, and even though this week has been frustrating, I don’t blame you.”

“So, what can I do?”

“You’re going to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs,” you say, smiling as you see your girlfriend’s eyes darken. “And the only thing that I can remember is your name. Sound good?”

“Definitely,” Angela says, swallowing hard. “Can I add one thing?”

“Of course.”

“I want to wake you up with head every morning for the next week. How does that sound?”

“Fucking amazing.”

“It’s a done deal, then. Let’s go home.”

The drive back to the apartment that you share feels like it takes forever, the tension between you and Angela becoming nearly overwhelming. You spend most of the time in your head, letting your thoughts drift to how sore you’re going to be tomorrow. It isn’t like you mind, you have no obligations past your Zoom meeting with your manager, and honestly, you kind of want your girlfriend to carry you around. It’s incredibly sexy, how strong she is.

Reality comes flooding back in when the car comes to a stop, Angela having just pulled into her designated spot in the underground parking garage. You take a deep breath as you open the door, climbing out and shutting it behind you. Your girlfriend circles the car to take your hand, then she leads you to the elevator. The ride up feels just as long as the drive home, and you can feel your heart start pounding in your chest the higher up you go.

By the time the elevator gets to your floor, you are just about ready to jump Angela. It takes every bit of self control that you have to wait and walk calmly down the hallway to your apartment, but you manage it. You unlock the door and walk inside, immediately kicking your shoes off and hanging your jacket up on the coat rack in the front hall. Angela follows in behind you, getting rid of her outer wear as well.

“I know we need to have dinner, but I really kind of can’t wait to get my hands on you, so-” Angela says, only for you to cut her off.

“Dinner can wait. Take me to bed.”

Angela doesn’t hesitate for even a second, taking a step closer to you and pulling you in for a heated kiss. Her hands move to your waist before traveling down and hooking around your thighs, and you let out a squeak of surprise as she lifts you up off of the ground. You immediately wrap your legs around her and push your chest into hers, wanting as much body contact as physically possible.

As your girlfriend starts down the hallway, you remove your lips from hers and start pressing kisses along her jawline and down her neck. The action is just distracting enough that after a particularly hard nip, Angela tangles her fingers in your hair and pulls you away from the skin that you had been lavishing. Before you have time to pout, she’s kicking open the door to your bedroom and tossing you onto the bed.

You immediately sit up, not wanting to miss anything, and you feel your mouth go dry as Angela slowly pulls her tank top over her head. She smirks as she walks over to you, reaching down and tugging at the t-shirt you’re wearing. Nodding rapidly, you lift your arms above your head and she rips it off before leaning in and attaching her lips to your collarbone.

“Fuck,” you whine, feeling her nip at a particularly sensitive spot that has your hips bucking. “Baby, I need you. Please.”

“Okay,” Angela says, coming up to leave a soft kiss on you lips as she pushes you to lay back against the sheets. “Okay.”

When Angela pulls away, she starts moving down your body, her lips cascading down the valley of your breasts before her tongue traces the soft lines of your stomach. Your hips buck up again, and that seems to get your girlfriend moving, because she reaches down and undoes the button of your jeans before pulling the zipper down and ripping them off. As she works your panties down your thighs, you arch your back and undo the clip of your bra, taking it off and tossing it to the side.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Angela murmurs, pressing a kiss into your thigh.

“All for you,” you whine, biting your lip to try to keep your desperation at bay.

Angela hums in appreciation before leaning in and licking a stripe up from your entrance to your clit. A harsh moan escapes your lips, and you find yourself reaching down to tangle your fingers in your girlfriend’s hair, urging her on. She works you up expertly, spreading you with her tongue one minute and then sucking on your clit to bring you to the edge the next. It’s all so much, but it’s too soon to come, so you use every trick in the book to shove your high down.

As Angela moves from sucking to rapid flicks of her tongue, you feel her push two fingers into you. The sensation of being stretched is almost enough to throw you over the edge, but you manage to hang on by a thread. Your self control don’t stay intact for long, though, because as soon as she curls her fingers and hits that spot along your front wall, your thighs are clamping shut as waves of pleasure roll down your spine.

“Fuck,” you whimper, your free hand twisting in the bedsheets. “Baby…”

“So good for me,” Angela says as she starts to work you down from your high. “Such a good girl.”

An aftershock wracks through your body at the praise, and you feel yourself blushing at the visceral reaction. You bring your arm up over your face to cover it, trying to hide the embarrassment you feel as you breathe deeply, trying to steady your rapidly beating heart. It doesn’t work, mostly because you can feel Angela pressing soft kisses to your stomach before she works her way up and ends at your lips.

“Mmmm,” you moan, tasting yourself on your girlfriend’s tongue.

“Good?” Angela asks, pulling away.

“More than. My turn?”

“Not tonight. I don’t want to waste time on something that isn’t giving you pleasure.”

“Making you feel good is never a waste. Please?”

“No,” Angela says, shaking her head. “I still have a lot of making up to do, and I want to be able to give you everything you want. I might not be able to do that if you suck me off.”

“Fine,” you say, pouting. “Can I make another request, then? It’s kind of a big one, so you can say no.”

“What is it?”

“Can we not use a condom?”

“Baby, we’ve never…” Angela bites her lip and looks down. “I’ve never…”

“I know it’s a lot, but I want to feel you,” you say, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “But, hey. If you aren’t comfortable or just don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

“If we do this, I have a condition.”

“Anything.”

“We need to get the morning after pill. I love you, so much, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to have a baby with you. I plan on at least having asked you to marry me before we think about you getting pregnant.”

“Deal. And I love you too, by the way.”

Angela smiles sweetly at you before leaning down and pressing her lips to yours in a gentle kiss. When she pulls away after a few seconds, you whine and try to chase her, but she climbs off of you and stands up. You push your elbows up underneath you, watching as your girlfriend unclips her bra and tosses it away before getting rid of her jeans and boxers. You swallow hard as she walks back towards you, a smirk pulling at her lips.

“Up against the pillows,” Angela murmurs, and you scramble to comply. “Good girl.”

“Fuck, Ange,” you whine. “Stop teasing and get up here with me.”

Your girlfriend doesn’t hesitate to comply, climbing onto the bed and crawling up it until she’s hovering over you. As she gets herself settled, you wrap your legs around her hips, shivering when you feel her hard cock press against your stomach. A new coil of heat forms in your stomach, and you bite your lip as you look up at Angela, practically begging her to do something, anything, with your eyes.

“Are you sure about this?” your girlfriend asks.

“So sure,” you murmur, leaning up to kiss her softly. “I love you.”

“And I love you. Still want it hard?”

“Fuck, yes please.”

With a nod, Angela reaches between your bodies and lines her cock up with your entrance. Your breath hitches as you feel it brush up against your clit, and you end up choking on a moan a few seconds later when you feel her start to stretch you. She leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips as she pushes into you slowly, making sure that she’s not going to hurt you. As your hips connect, a soft whine pulls its way from your throat.

The skin to skin contact feels sinfully good. You can feel Angela’s warmth and the slight curve of her cock that makes it hit your g-spot just right, and you can tell by the way she’s already breathing shallowly that she can feel your walls squeezing her, wanting to pull her in deeper. It’s an amazing feeling, one that you could definitely get used to if you both decide that you love it.

“Fuck, can I move?” Angela asks, sounding breathless.

You nod, and your girlfriend doesn’t hesitate to start rocking her hips into yours. She begins slow, but soon she’s worked up to a pace that is knocking all of the breath out of your lungs. Between the friction against your g-spot and the attention that Angela is giving your neck, you feel your high approaching much faster than you would have liked it to. You try to shove it down, push it to the side, but when your girlfriend sucks on your pulse point, you’re a goner.

A harsh moan rips itself from your throat as your entire body shudders, waves of pure ecstasy cascading through your body as white flashes behind your eyelids. It takes a minute for you to come down, and when you finally do, you realize that Angela has stopped her movements and is looking down at you with pure affection in her eyes.

“How are you doing?” your girlfriend asks, pushing a strand of hair out of your eyes.

“Good,” you reply, your breathing uneven. “So good.”

“Can I suggest a position change?”

“Sure. How do you want me?”

“Face down.”

“Doggy?”

“No, I want you laying flat. Is that okay?”

“More than.”

Angela nods and pulls out, then moves onto the other side of the bed so that you can get into position. You roll over easily, laying flat on your stomach and tilting your head to the left so that you can breath. As soon as you glance over your shoulder and nod, your girlfriend is climbing on top of you and pushing back in.

The stretch in this position is different, the fullness that you feel bordering on uncomfortable as Angela starts to roll her hips gently into yours. She knows that it takes you a minute to adjust when you’re face down, and you’re very grateful for the steady pace that she’s setting to get you ready for the real thing. After a minute, you feel things start to loosen up, so you reach up and grab the pillows before looking back at your girlfriend.

“I’m good,” you say, breath hitching as she hits a sensitive spot. “You can fuck me.”

“You sure?” Angela asks, caressing your ass.

“Yes.”

As soon as you give your confirmation, you feel a hand collide with your ass, a harsh smack echoing around the room. You bury your face in the pillows as you feel yourself clench at the sensation, a soft moan just barely managing to slip out. It’s quiet, but you know that Angela hears it based on the way she immediately does it again, this time thrusting her hips roughly into you at the same time.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, fisting your hands in the pillows.

“Feel good?” Angela asks, picking up the pace.

“Yes, baby. So good. You’re fucking me so good.”

Angela lets out a strangled moan behind you, and suddenly her hips stop moving. You can hear the sound of her breathing heavily, and when you turn your head to look at her, you see that she has her eyes squeezed shut and her hands fisted in the sheets on either side of her. If you weren’t so annoyed that she’d stopped, you would take a second to admire just how sexy she looks right now.

“Baby, why did you stop?” you whine.

“Don’t wanna…” Angela stutters out. “Come yet.”

“Baby, it’s okay. You can come.”

“No. Not yet. Not done. Just…need a minute.”

“Okay,” you say softly, reaching one of your hands down to take hers.

“Sorry,” Angela says after a minute, her eyes fluttering open. “I got really close there, but I’m good now. You?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Without so much as a warning, Angela goes back to slamming her hips into your backside at a bruising pace. It feels so good, but it’s not enough, and you find yourself trying to lift your hips so that you can slip a hand between your legs to play with your clit. Angela seems to have other ideas though, because she shoves you back down and then leans her her body on top of you, effectively changing the angle as she starts to roll her hips instead of thrusting.

The difference is immediate, and you start to feel heat coil in your stomach again, building up with every stroke that brushes against your g-spot just right. Your orgasm crashes into you as Angela bites down on your shoulder, and you find yourself trying to muffle your cries of pleasure in the pillow.

This time when you come down, your girlfriend has already pulled out of you and is leaving distracted kisses along your shoulders and spine. A sigh of contentment escapes you as you feel her start making her way up your neck, and you turn your head in time catch her lips with yours, pulling her into a soft kiss as you roll over underneath her. She smiles as she kisses you back, only pulling away when you both need to catch your breath.

“Hey,” Angela says softly.

“Hi,” you reply back, a smile pulling at your lips.

“Can you take another?”

“Yes, but I think that’s going to be it for me. My legs are starting to feel tingly.”

“Good. This position or a different one?”

“This one. I want to be able to see your face when you come.”

Angela blushes lightly but nods, lining her cock up with your entrance and pushing into you. She immediately starts up at a fast pace, and you can already tell that neither of you are going to last long. You can already feel another knot forming at the base of your spine, and she has her eyes clenched shut as she ruts her hips into yours.

As Angela starts to fuck you harder, she surprises you by grabbing your leg and throwing it over her shoulder. This allows her to sink deeper into you, hitting a new spot that you’ve never felt before. The pleasure is white hot, but it’s staying put for now, building higher and higher with each thrust. As it gets closer to snapping, you feel your girlfriend’s hips start to stutter, and then there’s a hand pressing down on your stomach and then-

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cry out.

All of your muscles contract, and your body tries to vault you into a sitting position, only to be blocked by Angela. She pushes you back down and ruts her hips a few more times before you feel her spill into you as she goes completely still. Another wave of pleasure rips through you, and you feel tears start to run down your cheeks as your body shudders. Coming down takes a long time, but when you do, you smile as you feel a thumb gently wiping at your cheeks. You open your eyes to see Angela staring down at you with an expression of awe on her face.

“What?” you ask, suddenly feeling shy.

“Nothing, it’s just…I don’t think that’s ever happened before,” Angela says.

“What’s never happened before?”

“Baby, you squirted.”

“Oh, uhm, sorry?” you say, blushing heavily.

“Don’t be,” Angela says, leaning in to kiss you softly. “That was so fucking hot. I can’t wait to make you do it again.”

“Not tonight.”

“I know, baby. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and then figure out what to order in.”

“Chinese?”

“Whatever you want,” Angela says. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you murmur softly.

#now that’s what i call horny!#angela giarratana x reader #rpf x reader #fic rec

187 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 13 days ago

Text

The bolter - Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia didn't expect to run into you five years after you disappeared on her, especially not with a little girl calling you mami, and looking just a little too much like her.

Word count: 13k

Warnings: mentions of bleeding, panic attacks and just angst in general! There's a bit of comfort, too

A/n: so this has been hell (and heaven) to write. If you guys don't like it, I'll just delete it and pretend I didn't spend the whole week writing it hehe.

Your suitcase was lying open on the bed, with clothes spilling out of it, a mix of adult shirts and small girls' dresses.

When you looked at it, you thought the suitcase represented your life. It was messy, unorganised and caught between the children's world and the grown-up one.

You looked at yourself in the hotel's mirror. It wasn't clean; it was, actually, smudged with fingerprints at hip height.

You cursed whoever was responsible for cleaning the mirror, but then realised you knew the culprit who had gotten it dirty to begin with.

Black. That's the colour you hated the most, but the one you were dressed in head to toe. Black shirt tucked into black suit trousers. Your ballet flats were constricting the blood flow to your toes.

The strap of your camera was resting comfortably around your neck, its weight familiar, almost comforting too. You gave the camera a test, making sure it was working.

The flash filled the room. Working perfectly.

You smiled at yourself before taking the camera off your neck and packing it inside its bag, not as carefully as you would have done years ago.

You packed the last items you needed for the event, looking around the room to ensure you hadn't forgotten anything. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you answered it without looking at the number.

"Hello?" you said with a smile, your eyes moving to the little girl sitting in the chair that was way too big for her.

A voice talked through the phone, and your smile turned into a frown.

"What do you mean she can't make it?" you asked, mouth slightly open, the frustration slowly washing over your body.

Isabel looked up at you, her eyes curious, as if she sensed something wrong was happening. You turned around, not wanting her to see you mad.

"I'm sorry? What? She's sick?" you asked. "No, no… I understand, but I really need someone tonight—"

"Okay, yes… okay," you held the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache approaching. You listened to the phone; it was a worker from the babysitting company you had hired for the night.

Your shoulders tensed as the woman told you she had no other babysitter available, and the one who was responsible for taking care of Isabel had come down with the flu.

After the woman was done apologising, you took a deep breath and pressed 'end call', letting out a (quiet) groan.

You looked at the mirror and realised your attempt to shield Isabel from your frustration was useless. She was watching you through the mirror. Smart kid.

"Alright," you said under your breath, your thoughts already a mix of irritation and worry. "Great, that's… great."

You had an event to work at. Photos to take. It was a late event, and you absolutely couldn't take Isabel with you, but you also couldn't leave a four-year-old alone in a hotel room.

Your gaze moved to where Isabel sat again. Her tiny legs were crossed under her as she concentrated on her colouring books now, her tongue poking out as if it was hard to paint between the lines.

Isabel's crayons were in perfect order beside her, on the little table to her left. She was organised, methodical, and graceful, without even trying, as if it came naturally to her.

The sight of Isabel reminded you of her. You pushed that thought aside.

You rubbed your forehead, trying to think of a solution. You needed to stay calm.

You couldn't let this stress you out too much. Not with Isabel right there; she shouldn't feel like she was a problem that needed to be dealt with.

You needed to be good to her. Be calm, be a good mom. Your expression softened, and you walked over, kneeling down beside Isabel.

"Bebel…" you began, your voice tender. "Mami has some exciting news. Do you want to know what it is?"

Isabel's face immediately lit up with excitement, her hazel eyes widening. Cute. She was so very cute. It was hard to stay sad or angry for too long when Isabel could just look at you with her little smile.

"Sí, mami! What news?" she asked eagerly, leaning forward, forgetting about her crayons, about her colouring book, her attention completely on you.

You smiled. She was so happy and enthusiastic all the time, it made you forget about the whole situation. Maybe bringing her to work wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Well," you said playfully, tickling her belly, trying to shift the mood, "have you ever been to a party?"

Isabel blinked, confusion on her face.

"Sí, at abuelita's house," she said, her voice small, unsure of what you were getting at. "Don't you remember, mami?"

You laughed softly. "That was a kid's party… now you're going to an actual party."

You got up and took Isabel in your arms, sitting her on the hotel bed, right by the suitcase's side.

"Well, tonight you're going to your very first grown-up party with Mami," you said happily. "But first, we need to find you a super-pretty dress."

You waited for Isabel's reaction. For her to beam, to clap her hands in excitement, but it didn't come. Of course, it didn't - you should have known your daughter by now.

Isabel's face turned into a frown, one you knew she couldn't have inherited from you, but that still looked like yours. Her bottom lip stuck out, and she placed her hands firmly on her hips, turning her head to look at you as if she were the grown-up.

"But… but mami, I have a bedtime!" she protested, looking at the clock on the wall. "And it's 9:55 already."

You narrowed your eyes, turning around to look at the clock. "It's 8:26, not 9:55."

"That's not true," she said stubbornly.

"Yes, it is."

"No."

You mirrored her and placed your hands on your hips. "You're four, you don't know how to read a clock."

"I can feel the time, mami," Isabel argued, and you just nodded along. Pick your battles, right?

You began rummaging through the suitcase for the perfect dress for Isabel, one you had bought the last time the two of you were in Germany, or was it Andorra? You couldn't remember.

"Forget bedtime, bebé," you said gently, knowing Isabel didn't like it when her routine changed too much, a peculiar trait for a girl who had been travelling from country to country since she was born.

Isabel's lips quivered, but she agreed. "Okay, but I want two bedtime stories."

"Deal," you said, smiling down at her with a wink. "What do you think of this dress here?"

You held a light yellow dress in your hand. It had dark orange drawings of flowers on it. It wasn't exactly a nightdress, but in your almost five years of motherhood, you weren't sure if there were any types of night clothing for kids.

Isabel's eyes sparkled. Really sparkled. It was like all the reluctance was gone the moment she saw the dress.

"I love it, mami! It will match with my Spider-Man shoes."

You blinked at her, studying her face carefully, then looked at the very yellow, non-Spider-Man-at-all dress.

Isabel was smiling at you, her hands in fists, happy.

You smiled. "Oh my god! You are so right, it'll look so pretty!"

She squealed. You took off her pyjamas (of course, she already had her pyjamas on) and put on the dress, letting her put her shoes on by herself (as she requested).

"Mami, tie my shoes?" she asked, her Spider-Man shoes already on her feet.

"Of course, Bebel." You knelt on the floor, tying her shoelaces before getting up again and kissing her forehead.

You moved to the bed, setting Isabel on your lap as you brushed her brunette hair.

You decided to go for a simple braid to keep her hair from falling into her eyes. You didn't know if the event was going to be too warm; some of them were, especially if they had lots of people in them. You didn't want her to sweat too much or be too hot.

"Mami, is this one of the parties you work at?" she asked as you intertwined her hair into a braid.

"Sí, Bebel."

"Why am I going if it's a party-work?"

"Because I don't want to go alone," you explained. "Mami needs company, and I think you'll be the best company ever."

"I will!" The kid turned to you, confidently, and suddenly her braid looked a bit too far to the left.

It didn't matter. You were late and had a taxi to catch.

You arrived at the event, Isabel holding your hand tightly as she looked around, unsure of where she was.

The space was modern, with minimalist decor. It was for a big makeup sponsor, that's all the information you were given.

With one hand on Isabel's and the other holding your camera equipment bag, you made your way through the cluster of people, looking for the person in charge.

You didn't know who the person was or what they looked like, because you had signed the work contract via email while you were still in France, weeks before.

You spotted a woman with a clipboard in hand beside a line of cocktails. She looked bossy enough, so you approached her.

"Hello! Good evening. I'm Y/n, the photographer," you said, smiling, holding your camera bag a bit higher. "We've talked through emails."

The event coordinator's face lit up, and she even held the clipboard more loosely, as if she had been stressed out about you not showing up.

"Y/n! Of course! Nice to meet you!" She extended her hand, and you quickly let go of Isabel's before shaking it.

"I've heard great things about your work, Miss," she said.

Her name was Lucia, if you weren't mistaken. or maybe Luisa. You didn't remember, you just knew it started with a L.

"I believe you have everything you need," Lucia (or Luisa) said, looking at the camera bag. "But if you need anything else, don't be afraid to contact me."

Isabel stood beside you, still in complete silence, tugging at the hem of her dress.

To someone who didn't know Isabel, her face might have looked like someone who was okay, but you knew the girl was anxious. Her little shoulders were tense, and her eyes were darting around the unfamiliar room as if searching for danger.

You placed a hand on Isabel's back, bringing her closer to you, rubbing her back gently, trying to soothe her.

"This is Isabel, my daughter." Isabel managed a small wave toward the coordinator, then pressed her cheek against your side, trying to hide.

"I'm so sorry, the babysitter cancelled last minute, so…" you continued. "I had to bring her along."

"Not a problem at all," the coordinator said, looking at Isabel tenderly. "We have a dedicated kids' area just over there."

She pointed toward a colourful area beyond the bar, right at the corner of the main stage of the event. There were some toys, a trampoline, a slide and a ball pit.

There were a few kids already playing in it. They seemed to be around Isabel's age and having fun.

"It's fully supervised," the woman said, noticing that you were hesitating a bit.

"Just a second," you told Lucia (or Luisa), kneeling to Isabel's eye level. "Hey, Bebel, is it okay if you play with the other kids while Mami works?"

As expected, Isabel shook her head.

You pressed your lips together. "I'll be just there," you pointed at the stage. "I'll check in on you between shots," you promised.

Isabel hesitated, but then spotted a few kids playing with building blocks. She loved building blocks.

"Okay," she whispered.

You smiled at her and kissed her forehead. You nodded at the coordinator. "Thank you."

"No worries, I'm a mom too, I know how hard it gets," she told you before you made your way to the kids' area. You opened the small, pink gate and helped Isabel take off her shoes.

She placed them carefully in the shoe area and turned to you, still anxious. "Go on, princesa," you said softly. "Have fun."

Isabel examined the kids' area for a moment, then walked toward a small circle of children building a block tower. You watched until the little girl talked with a few of the kids.

She looked at you and gave a thumbs-up. You smiled and waved at her. It was time to go to work now.

You had to do a perfect job. Take perfect shots, maybe try to do some networking with other photographers. Money wasn't exactly tight, but for the last five years, you had had to start worrying about it, to make sure Isabel got everything she needed.

You lifted your camera to your eyes and tested a few shots, just to make sure everything was right. You knew it was a makeup event, you just didn't know the number of people that were going to be there.

It was crowded, so crowded that you turned around to the kids' play area, just to make sure Isabel was really there, safe. And she was, Isabel was now sitting next to a blonde boy, playing together.

You breathed in and out, reminding yourself that this was not the first time you had brought Isabel to work with you. Maybe it was the first time at a night event, but that was it.

Tonight was your chance of making good money, enough that you and Isabel could fly to Japan next, if everything went according to plan.

You loved Barcelona dearly. But it was too cruel on your heart. The memories haunted the streets; there wasn't anywhere you could look that didn't remind you of your old life.

You had to focus. Just for tonight. Tomorrow you would go straight to the airport with Isabel. Everything would go as planned.

You just needed to focus. Be efficient and quick.

You had fallen into the rhythm of the event. Isabel was always in the corner of your mind, but you did as promised and went to check on her every 20 minutes, just to make sure she was really okay.

Whenever you went to check on her, she was playing with the same kids. You smiled, but noticed how Isabel wasn't interacting with the kids as much as the other children around her.

She never went to kindergarten and didn't have much contact with her cousins, your sister's kids.

Your heart ached thinking about what your life could have been. A big family was all you had wanted for years, but now it was only you and Isabel. Forever.

The thought didn't hurt you as it did a few years back, but you couldn't say that wound was completely healed.

You didn't mind how lonely it felt at times, but you were starting to see how this lifestyle was beginning to affect Isabel negatively.

You tried to distract your mind with your work, and it was doing the trick.

You were in your element now. Photography was a passion that you couldn't pursue years ago, but now it had become your profession, one you loved fondly.

You preferred working in events and organisations, but those types of freelance jobs were harder to manage as a single mom, so you mainly did family shoots.

When your friend Patricia called weeks ago, telling you she had an amazing opportunity for you, you immediately asked her what it was. You had spent too much time in France and were starting to get bored.

When she said it was in Barcelona, you quickly declined, rolling your eyes as to why she was even suggesting it if she knew about everything that happened.

But then she told you how much you would be paid, and you had no other choice but to accept it.

Isabel was sad to leave Paris. She said she was going to miss the little mice in the streets. You told her there were mice everywhere.

She fought you on that.

You were smiling, talking to people as you took picture after picture.

Each shot made a 'click' sound, although the repetitive noise didn't bother you as much as the high-pitched voices of some people around you.

You tried to ignore them, to focus on the camera, how right it felt in your hands, like it belonged there.

You moved through the crowd, looking for the perfect shot, especially when people weren't looking.

People loved candid photos, even though most of the time, people were just pretending not to see the camera.

You had been working for three hours now, but the event was just beginning.

You started to worry about getting Isabel's sleep schedule all messed up. You didn't want it to happen, but there was nothing you could do now.

Maybe this was what you hated most about motherhood, the feeling of helplessness that came from time to time.

The camera was at your face again, looking for something worth shooting. Looking for the perfect angle, the perfect light, the perfect person.

You moved to the right, the lights from the stage shining bright and making white spots appear in your vision.

You took the camera away and rubbed your eyes, trying to make the spots disappear from your eyelids.

This happened more times than you could count, and each time, you got more frustrated. There was no way to take pictures if you couldn't see.

You blinked. Hard. Once and then a second time. The spots were still there, but they were manageable now.

You were seeing the world through your lens; meticulously, carefully, looking for the perfect shot of the night, one that could go on the event's Instagram, one that represented the makeup brand.

You saw the back of a woman. You weren't sure if she was pretty or not.

She wore a blue dress; her brunette hair had faint blonde highlights.

You took the shot. She looked beautiful against the light, holding a lipstick between her fingers, which fit perfectly.

She was really casual, different from the other people around, as if she wasn't trying to stand out, she just did.

She was turning around, and you were ready to take a picture of her face.

You shot at the same time that your heart stopped, at the same time that you saw the ghost responsible for making the streets of Barcelona so uninhabitable.

Alexia.

The camera slipped out of your hands. It didn't fall to the floor only because the strap was holding it tight around your neck.

You blinked hard again, thinking the white spots in your vision were now making you see distorted faces. But no. There she was, laughing with some people by the bar.

Still so fucking beautiful it hurt to look at her. So different from five years ago, so scarily there.

You were frozen, staring at her, eyes glued. Five years. Five whole years you had been running from this exact moment. Five years since you bolted from Alexia's house and never came back.

Five years since you ran from your wife and hid in different countries, fighting not to be seen, fighting to disappear from other people's memories.

Fighting to disappear from Alexia's memory.

But you couldn't. You never could. There was a daily reminder of Alexia in your life. One you couldn't ignore.

And right now, you couldn't ignore her either.

Your chest felt tight. You couldn't breathe properly, the air was too thin, and the walls of the event seemed to be closing in on you.

All those nights you had wondered what you would do if you saw her again, what you would say, and now you knew - absolutely nothing.

She looked the same. Different, but the same. Her hair was darker, and she had more tattoos, at least from what you could see from a distance.

She still had that confident yet shy way of holding herself that you always found intriguing.

Alexia still made your stomach flip just by existing. She still was the reason why your heart was beating fast, the reason the adrenaline was rushing through your body, begging you to bolt again.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You tried to lift the camera, pretend you were working, but your hands were shaking too much, and the camera suddenly felt like it was made of titanium, too heavy to hold.

You tried anyway, but the photos came out blurry. You kept glancing over at her while trying to hide behind people and columns.

She couldn't see you, absolutely couldn't, but you seemed unable to take your eyes off of her, no matter how scared you were.

This wasn't supposed to happen. You had been so careful. No football events, nothing in Barcelona.

Fuck, it was the first time you had been in Spain for the last few years.

Nothing that you had done till now could have led you back to her. But you took this fucking job. And here she was.

You needed to get out of here. Right now.

Isabel.

You needed to take Isabel and go back to the hotel.

You turned toward the kids' area, walking fast, maybe too fast. The camera was hitting you painfully in the sternum and clavicle. You didn't mind the bruises it would leave.

Someone grabbed you by the arm. You were scared to turn around and see her face, but it was just one of the producers.

"You are Y/n, right? We need some more pictures at the—"

His grip was hard on your arm.

You didn't like it. You looked at where Alexia was a few moments ago, but she wasn't there.

You looked at the trampoline.

You didn't see Isabel.

"Sorry, I—I can't," you told the man, setting your arm free as you walked anxiously to the kids' area.

"Y/n? Wait!" The mand shouted, but you were already gone.

Isabel wasn't on the slide.

She wasn't in the ball pit.

No sign of her at the table where the kids were building that block tower.

Your heart was hammering.

You were feeling sick. Alexia had found her; she had taken her.

But then you heard it.

Isabel's cry.

You would know it from kilometres away.

She was in the corner of the play area, where you hadn't looked yet.

She was standing with one of the staff members, tears streaming down her face, her little shoulders shaking.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and your mom's instinct was suddenly alert to everything: how red her cheeks were, how she clutched her forearm, how loud the music was, and how Alexia was still haunting your mind, here, somewhere, in the same room as Isabel.

"Bebel?" You dropped to your knees in front of her. "What happened, princesa?"

As soon as you approached Isabel, the staff member walked away, mumbling something about needing to go take care of another kid.

"He b-bit me," she whispered, showing you a red bruise on her arm, with marks of a child's teeth. "It hurt, mami."

Anger flashed through you. Someone had hurt Isabel, she was crying and had teeth marks on her skin and—

You looked at the floor below you. There was a shadow, a shadow that wasn't there before.

Isabel was still crying, but she looked up at someone, someone who was behind you.

You knew who it was.

She still wore the same perfume.

You didn't turn around. Couldn't. Your whole body went rigid; and your hand on Isabel's back was solid.

It was as if you didn't move, Alexia wouldn't see you and move on. As if she were the hunter and you and Isabel were the prey.

"Y/n?" You heard her say, completely doubtful, as if she wasn't believing her eyes as much as you weren't believing yours minutes ago.

Her voice. It was still the same.

You didn't know what to expect though. Voices didn't change with time, did they?

You pulled Isabel closer to your body, so her face was almost pressed to you. You turned around so you were between her and Alexia.

You couldn't let her see Isabel, absolutely not.

Alexia's eyes went wide. Her body was frozen, and for a second, it was like she wasn't breathing.

She didn't take her eyes from yours, and for some reason, you couldn't take your eyes from hers either.

Same eyes, same mouth, same nose. Different makeup, different earrings, different clothing. Same Alexia?

Her mouth was hanging open. You could see her brain trying to catch up, trying to think of what to say.

But Isabel sobbed, and Alexia's attention shifted from you to her.

You took a step back, taking Isabel with you. You wanted to run. But you were stone-cold solid.

Your hands were shaking as Alexia looked at you one last time before kneeling in front of your body, next to Isabel.

"Who bit you, pequeña?" Alexia asked softly, in the same tone you always used with Isabel.

Isabel pointed at a blonde boy across the play area without any kind of hesitation. Of course she did, Isabel always told the truth.

"Who, the one in orange?" she asked, and Isabel nodded.

"Diego!" Alexia called out, and the boy came over, head down, pout on his face. Guilty. "Did you bite this little girl?"

The boy was silent, eyes still on the floor. Alexia took his chin in her hand and made him look her in the eye.

"Did you?"

"Perdón, tía Ale," he mumbled.

Tía Alexia. Was this Alba's—

"I'm telling your mom about this," Alexia said sternly. "We don't bite or hurt others, you understand me? Tell the little girl you are sorry."

"Perdón, Isabel," the boy said quickly. Isabel pressed her face to your leg, not looking at him.

"Mami, can we go?" Isabel whispered.

It was so low, barely a whisper, but it was enough for Alexia to hear it.

The word 'Mami' hung in the air as the kids around them played and yelled.

Mami.

You saw Alexia's face change. You saw the exact moment she understood who Isabel was to you, that she wasn't a random kid. That she was your kid.

Fuck. Run.

You scooped Isabel up, trying to manoeuvre her around the camera bag "We're leaving. Bye, Alexia."

Alexia.

It felt foreign to speak her name, to open your mouth just to put your tongue on your palate. A-L-E-X-I-A.

You hadn't said her name out loud much, didn't have a reason to.

"Y/n, wait—" Alexia's voice was urgent, she tried to grab you by the arm. "Is she—"

You were already walking, dodging Alexia and the kids running at your feet. You were fast and quickly exited the kids' area.

Isabel's arms were around your neck, her face buried in your shoulder, she was still crying, and you noticed you hadn't given her any type of comfort for the bite.

You walked through the people, trying to blend so Alexia (who was still very much behind you) would lose you among so many people.

"Y/n!" Alexia called after you, louder now. "Wait! I just want to talk!"

You felt Isabel's head pick up from your shoulder; she was looking at Alexia. You didn't want her to see Alexia. You walked faster, already at the front door of the event.

"Y/n? Mierda," she yelled now, not caring about the people around. "How old is she?"

Isabel held up four fingers (because of course she did), looking Alexia in the eyes before finding home in the crook of your neck.

You could hear Alexia trying to follow, but people kept stopping her. Photographers, executives, or someone wanting a picture.

You didn't look back. There was a line of taxis waiting outside, and you entered the first one you saw, placing a hand on Isabel's head so she wouldn't bump her head while you got in.

You slid into the back seat, practically throwing yourself and Isabel inside.

You quickly told the taxi driver the address of the hotel, your voice shaking.

The man noticed how anxious you were, Isabel continued to cry, so he didn't ask any questions and turned on the engine.

Fast, so very fast. You were sure he was breaking some laws.

Through the back window, you saw Alexia break free from the crowd. You made eye contact with her for exactly three seconds before turning away.

You closed your eyes and held Isabel tighter. "Shh, let me see your arm."

Isabel cried softly, but reached out her arm. The bite mark was there, with some teeth marks missing.

Damn, was Diego old enough now that he had already lost some of his baby teeth?

But Diego didn't matter now.

None of the Putellas did. Only Isabel. Only you and her.

It was going to be okay. She wasn't going to see you anymore. You were sure.

You went back to the hotel room and quickly locked the door. The room was completely unorganised, exactly how you had left it. You hated yourself for the mess you had made.

Hated yourself because Isabel was still crying, and you had a feeling it wasn't from Diego's bite. It was because you were crying too.

"Shh, princesa," you said, sitting on the bed with Isabel on your lap. "It's okay."

"Mami, why did we have to run like that?" she asked, pouting.

"Perdón," you said. "I didn't mean to scare you, sí."

"Mami won't do this again," you promised. "We won't run like that anymore."

Isabel looked you in the eyes before nodding, like she believed every promise you made.

Then she rubbed her eyes. She looked completely tired now.

"Wanna go to bed?" You kissed her forehead, and her little "sí" was all you needed to hear.

You changed her out of her clothes and laid her down on the hotel bed. She was out like a light.

You took a moment to look at her, at her face, how perfect she was, how she had all the features of the woman you once loved.

"Are we wanted by the police?" Isabel asked.

You turned to her, frowning. "Of course not, why do you say that?"

"You haven't opened the curtains," she said matter-of-factly, her words a little messy because she was young. "And we haven't been outside for three weeks."

"It's been a day, Isabel," you told her.

"I wouldn't know," she shrugged. "I haven't seen the sun for so long."

You rolled your eyes and opened one curtain. Isabel happily sat on the cushion by the window and looked out at the world.

She looked happy to see outside. You felt guilty again.

Since you met Alexia, you had been...hiding.

Yesterday was awful for you and Isabel. You were scared that you might find her while walking down the street.

You also knew Alexia, knew how determined she was. You knew she was going to look for you.

That's why you had ordered both breakfast and lunch from room service for you and Isabel, and hadn't let Isabel go to the hotel's pool, even though she wanted to badly.

You couldn't allow Alexia to find you again.

You already knew what would happen if Alexia found out about Isabel.

She would take her from you. And that was something you would never, ever allow.

That's why you were making an escape plan.

Hours later, you had bought two flight tickets to Japan. You had planned to stay in Spain a little longer, but since encountering Alexia, you decided it was best to go .

You had a friend there, another photographer who would let you and Isabel crash at her place until you found a good short-term rental.

The flight was tonight. The suitcases were ready, and Isabel's Spider-Man backpack was packed with snacks and colouring books.

Isabel already knew you guys were going to fly out. She had gotten used to not staying in one place for long, but you saw in her eyes that she didn't like it, that she wanted consistency.

At the moment, you couldn't give it to her. Not yet. But maybe one day, once you were established as a photographer, maybe you would be able to buy an apartment somewhere. Maybe in Canada, Colombia, or Australia.

Who knew? You had learned not to let your roots grow, not to let the place you were or the people around you define you.

You wanted the same for Isabel, though maybe what she needed wasn't the same as what you wanted.

You went to your backpack. It was always the last thing you packed because it was where you kept the most important stuff, like documents.

You placed it to your lap and opened the zipper. You tried to ignore how Isabel seemed to be giving you side-eyes.

You also tried to ignore how she started to bite her nails. You narrowed your eyes at her.

"Isabel," you said in your mom voice, one you rarely used. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

The little girl opened her mouth and closed it, then shook her head, but didn't look at you.

"Isabel María." You used her second name, the one exclusive for trouble. "What did you do?"

The girl was watching the window, as if it were oh so entertaining. Isabel couldn't lie, but you could see right through her.

She didn't answer you.

"Isabel, if you put a frog in my backpack again I'll—" As you began to open the bag, you were met with a frog-less inside.

But you knew something wasn't right.

You searched the backpack until you saw the two passports. They looked normal, until you took a closer look at them.

There was a butterfly drawn on one and a lion on the other.

"No," you whispered, your hands starting to shake as you opened the first passport. Page by page, all of them filled with drawings. Messy kid letters spelling out "BARcELON" and "HoME" in crayon.

Your stomach dropped. The main page, your photo, your information, had a house drawn right over your face, with stick figures outside. Two stick figures… you and her

You couldn't breathe for a second. Trapped. You were fucking trapped in the one place you couldn't stay.

"Isabel, how - why?!" you looked at her, eyes wide, hands gripping the ruined documents tightly. "You know those are important!"

Isabel looked at you, eyes filled with tears, her face in a pout. "Mami, don't yell," she hugged her knees.

You wanted to scream at her, to yell even more.

She had ruined the passports.

The only thing that could get both of you to Japan. Your legs felt weak.

You had to sit down on the bed, passport still in your shaking hands.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

But it was.

You wouldn't be able to take the flight tonight. Hell. You wouldn't be able to take any flights.

You would have to go and apply for two new passports and wait in Spain until the General State Administration would get them ready.

It would take at least some weeks.

Weeks. You would have to stay in Barcelona for weeks until you could leave.

"Isabel," you said, your voice calmer now. "Why didn't you paint in the colouring books mami gave you?"

Isabel peeked from her knees, her cheeks red from crying.

You reminded yourself that she was only four (almost five), that she was just a kid.

"You had already packed them," she said. "A-and I don't wanna go on flights anymore, mami."

"What—"

"I don't wanna move, mami," Isabel said. "I wanna stay here."

"Bebel," you said, getting up and walking to her. "We can't stay here."

"Why?" she asked. "It's warm and there's birds and playgrounds."

"Baby, we can find that anywhere in the world—"

"No, mami!" she said stubbornly. "I wanna stay here in B-Barcelona." Her words were clumsy, like the word Barcelona was too big for her.

"We can't," you told her one more time. "Mami can't stay here, okay?"

"But—"

"No, Bebel," you cut her off, before realizing you were too harsh.

You quickly took her into your arms, letting her head rest on your shoulder.

"Mami is sorry. I promise I'll find us a home, it just won't be here."

"Alexia, where are you going?" someone asked as they tried to grab Alexia's arm.

"Wait, Ale—" Another one said, trying to get Alexia's attention.

Alexia had her fair share of panic attacks before, but right now, in the middle of a crowd that was trying to grab her at any cost, with loud music trying to burst her eardrums and the LED lights blinding her eyes, Alexia was sure she was going to have a full meltdown.

But overstimulation wasn't the problem. The problem was you. You who had been gone for five years, never explaining to Alexia why you had ran away.

You had disappeared from Barcelona and the rest of Spain, Alexia had looked for you everywhere, but you were gone.

And now, here you stood in the middle of the event, dressed all in black, your least favourite colour (or was it still?), with a kid by yourside.

A young girl who had called you mom.

Mami

You were gone. And now you were back in Barcelona with a daughter.

A kid.

Alexia and you always talked about having kids, about having a family. Both of you wanted that a few years back.

You wanted to be a mom; Alexia too. You wanted to carry the baby, Alexia agreed, but after rounds of failed IVF, you decided to try once more, just one last time.

But weeks after the embryo transfer, days after the negative test, you had run away, leaving Alexia with nothing.

She knew you were sad about not being able to carry the baby, that when the last round, the one you were sure would work, didn't, she knew it had destroyed you.

The last thing she remembered was you crying, talking about how much of a failure you felt. But Alexia didn't comfort you, not properly; she couldn't.

She was devastated herself, but had to catch a flight for a game in Madrid.

It was the last time she saw you.

When Alexia came back, three days later, you were gone, as if you had never been in her life. As if Alexia never had a wife.

You took your belongings, clothes, pictures. Everything.

You took your perfume. Alexia barely remembered the scent of it anymore, but sometimes in her dreams she could swear it smelled like lilies.

You left her with nothing, absolutely nothing.

Alexia was left behind with a ghost of a family.; one you had shredded.

She looked for you everywhere. She spent big amounts of money on private investigators, but it was like you had disappeared from the face of the earth.

All she was left with was a message from your mom, telling her you didn't want anything to do with her anymore.

Alexia kept trying.

For a whole year, she searched for you, trying, at least, to sign the divorce papers. But there was no clue to your whereabouts, and your mom refused to say.

Alexia knew all the wrong things she had done, she knew she wasn't a good wife, she wasn't present, but she thought that maybe having a baby would fix whatever was wrong with you two.

But when the rounds and rounds of IVF didn't work, Alexia slowly gave up. And then, you ran away.

But now you were back in Barcelona, working as a photographer.

Alexia remembered you liked photography, but she thought it was just a silly hobby of yours.

You were in your last year of art university when you ran away. She wondered if you ever got your diploma.

And the kid.

Your daughter. Your daughter who looked nothing like you.

Alexia wondered if you had adopted her.

Or maybe she was your niece, your sister's… Gabriela? Or was it Emanuela? Whichever one it was, she remembered they had gotten pregnant months before you ran away.

Maybe it was that?

But no. Alexia knew deep down there was something to it.

It was almost instinctive, when she looked at the little girl, it was like looking at a younger version of herself.

There were too many similarities. The little girl was four years old. It had been five years since you had run away.

It couldn't be it, right? The last round hadn't worked. There was blood. Alexia had found you on the bathroom crying.

You were bleeding, sobbing about how it hadn't worked again.

She had made you a bath. Alexia saw the blood dripping down your thigh.

She held you while you cried, your body shaking against hers, whispering that you were broken, that you couldn't give her what she wanted.

Alexia should have said something then.

Should have told you that you were enough, that you were all she needed. But she was drowning in her own disappointment, and the words never came.

There was something about the little girl... Isabel, that was making Alexia doubt everything. Every single thing.

She only saw the girl for a short amount of time. But her eyes, her cheeks, her chin… It was like looking at a mirror.

"Aren't you going to sleep, amor?" Olga murmured, lying down by Alexia's side, her mouth right in her ear.

It was dark, it was late. Alexia was exhausted.

She had a game next week. She had media day tomorrow afternoon and Olga had told her a few hours ago that she wanted Alexia to go somewhere with her to do something.

Alexia had a life going on. She had a job. She had a family.

She had Olga, her not-official-wife because you hadn't sign the divorce papers.

Alexia wasn't about to throw all of that away because you decided to pop up in Barcelona with a kid that looked too much like her.

It was a coincidence, Alexia was sure.

She felt Olga turning her head down, her cold lips on her skin, she shivered, not from need though.

All she could think about was another pair of lips, warmer ones, ones that used to whisper her name like a prayer.

Ones she had mistreated too many times.

"You're thinking too much tonight," Olga said, she sank her teeth into the little bit of skin she could reach on Alexia's neck."What happened?"

"Nothing, Olga," Alexia said, more dryly than she intended to. "Just thinking about next match."

"You're always thinking about football," Olga said, matching Alexia's dryness.

"I didn't know that was a problem," Alexia murmured, focusing on everything but the woman laying next to her.

Isabel.

You.

"It wasn't," Olga said as she withdrew her warm hand, which had been resting on Alexia's belly, pulling it close to her own body. "But now you can barely talk to me anymore."

Alexia rolled her eyes at the same time she rolled out of bed, pillow in hand. She stumbled on the dresses on the way out of the room.

Olga held herself on her elbows, looking at Alexia with an angry frown on her face. "Where are you going?"

"Sleep on the sofa," Alexia said, waving her free hand off.

"What?" Olga asked confused. "Why?"

"Porque me estás dando dolor de cabeza," Alexia said before leaving the room. [Because you're giving me a headache.]

Alexia didn't sleep that night.

Instead, she pressed a number she hadn't used in a long time.

One she still knew by heart after all these years.

"Hey, Pedro," Alexia said. "No... No, everything is alright, sorry for calling this late but, do you remember Y/n? She's back, she's in Barcelona, I need your help finding her."

Alexia waited for Pedro, her personal investigator, to answer.

"I'll pay you whatever you want," Alexia said, as she started to think the whole situation through.

What if you had run away again?

What if you ran to an airport? You would never step a foot in Barcelona again.

Alexia saw in your eyes how scared you were.

You didn't want to be seen by her, but it happened.

"Yes, Pedro," she said.

"Whatever amount you want. I need you to find her, and... there's a kid, too, name Isabel, four years old, I need you to find them both. They're probably in a hotel, Y/n doesn't have any family here."

"Yeah, I'll transfer the money now," Alexia said. "Thank you, Pedro."

With that, she turned off the phone, laying back on the sofa. It was stiff, very stiff, her back was hurting already.

She couldn't help but wonder where the two of you were.

Were you reading Isabel a bedtime story?

Did you sing to her the way you used to hum while cooking dinner for Alexia?

Did Isabel have your mannerism, or did she have hers?

It didn't take long though, for Alexia to find out.

She was woken up in the morning with a location. She was right, a hotel indeed. Alexia smirked.

She stretched herself before going to her room. Olga was sleeping, her eyes were wet, as if she had spent the whole night crying.

Alexia pressed her lips together. She didn't feel as bad as she thought she would.

She didn't know why. Right now she only cared about how Isabel was crying the night before.

The little girl she barely knew left a mark on her already.

She was going to confront you at the hotel , but she didn't want to do it today.

She knew you were still shaken up from last night. She was going to give you one day.

Alexia wanted to trap you.

That was the only way of keeping someone from bolting.

And that's exactly what she did,

You were having breakfast when the knock came. It was sharp and insistent.

Your spoon clattered against the bowl of yogurt, it splashed across the tiny hotel table and landed on Isabel's dress. But the little girl didn't care, she also seemed confused by the sudden knock.

Isabel looked up from her own food, omelette, her little eyebrows raised. And then, she looked at you, as if you had an answer to what was going on.

You placed a single finger in front of your lips, asking Isabel to be quiet. She smiled and mirrored you, as if it was all a joke. You wished she kept thinking it was all a little game.

Your heart was hammering hard against your ribs.

You couldn't breathe, the exact same feeling that consumed your body two days ago took over again.

You knew. Of course you knew exactly who it was.

You had been waiting for this knock since the moment you saw recognition flash across her face at that event.

Unfortunately, you knew how Alexia was, how determined, how much influence and means she had to get what she wanted.

You just thought that, deep down, luck would be on you and Isabel's side, that maybe, just maybe, your passports would be done faster and you and her would be able to leave Barcelona without seeing Alexia again.

But this wasn't the case. There was no running now, nowhere to hide, no more pretending this moment wouldn't come.

You had played this scene in your head a thousand times over the past few days, hell, over the past few years.

You had nightmares of it. Of Alexia finding out about Isabel and taking her away from you.

In some versions of your nightmares, you were stronger. In some versions, you had the right words ready.

In the real world, though, you were sitting in a tiny hotel room with your pyjamas on, watching your four-year-old daughter eat omelette while your (kind of) ex-wife pounded on the door like she had every right to be there.

Which, you looked at Isabel once again, she had. She had all the right.

More right than you if she were to bring you to court.

"Y/n, I know you're in there." Alexia's voice came through the door, at the same time her voice sounded frustrated, she also sounded calm.

Way too calm. As if she had planned this ahead, as if she had known for some time where you and Isabel were.

As if she was the stronger one, as if she had the right words.

"We need to talk," she said again, after what felt like minutes of silence.

Isabel was a curious kid, she couldn't hear or see anything she didn't understand without asking a zillion questions.

But right now, she was completely quiet, still following your orders.

You stared at the door like Alexia might disappear if you wished hard enough.

You could ignore it. You didn't owe her anything, not legally, not without a DNA test.

You didn't owe her explanations, conversations or the truth that had been eating you alive for five years.

But Isabel was right there, taking the pieces of omelette you had cut and shaping them so it looked like letters.

She was humming softly under her breath, if you paid enough attention, you would know it was a lullaby you used to sing to her when she was younger.

Your daughter. Your baby. The one Alexia didn't know about, couldn't know about, because knowing would destroy everything in your life.

She would take away the only thing that mattered to you. The only thing you couldn't replace.

Another knock, harder this time. "Open the door. Now."

That tone.

That fucking tone like she was still your wife, like she still had the right to demand things from you. Like you hadn't spent years learning how to live without her voice telling you what to do.

Your breathing became even more irregular.

What if she had brought lawyers? You didn't have the money to pay for a good lawyer.

If she wanted to take Isabel from you, she would do it in a matter of seconds.

But there was nowhere to run.

You looked around the room, eyeing each window carefully; you considered escaping through them, but the building was tall, it was too tall to risk jumping.

Nowhere to run. You were trapped.

"Stay there, okay? Keep eating your food," you whispered to Isabel, your voice shaking more than you wanted it to.

Isabel looked up with those eyes - Alexia's eyes. Fuck, why did she have to have Alexia's eyes - and nodded.

You walked to the door on legs that felt like they might give out, legs that seemed to have worn themselves thin after running from Alexia for five years.

Your hands were trembling when you twisted the handle.

You took a deep breath, once, then twice. You fixed your hair, or tried to.

You took another glance at Isabel, she was eating her food, but now she had one of her books there.

She was learning to read properly, she had been obsessed with books lately.

You took another breath before opening the door, just enough to see her standing there.

Alexia was still beautiful, still infuriating... still everything you had run away from.

"What do you want, Alexia?" The words came out defensive and sharp, just like the expression across Alexia's face.

You realized you should have brought armour for this encounter, but right now, your old pyjamas would have to do.

Alexia hesitated.

As if she wasn't really expecting you to answer the door, as if she was getting ready to break the door down herself.

She looked at you up and down, almost as if surprised to see you.

Had she thought that what happened a few nights ago was a dream? A nightmare? You surely had.

You prayed every second that meeting Alexia at that event was actually just a cruel hallucination from your mind.

"I want to talk." She was trying to sound calm but you could see it in her face, desperation, something she never used to show.

The Alexia you remembered from years ago kept everything locked up tight.

She was professional (even when she didn't have to be) and controlled.

This one looked like she might break.You didn't know how to deal with that.

You were the one who usually screamed, who was usually desperate for something she couldn't give.

But right now things had changed, it was like you had some kind of control over her; the control she had held over you throughout your whole relationship.

But still, you wanted to slam the door.

Wanted to pack Isabel up and run again, keep running until you found somewhere Alexia Putellas couldn't follow.

But she was right there, too close, and running hadn't worked the first time anyway.

"Not today," you said, gripping the door handle so tight your knuckles went white. "We can talk another day."

"Now." And there it was, that captain voice, like she was giving orders to her teammates.

You had never played on her team, but she insisted on using it against you.

What infuriated you most was that it worked, it always worked.

You stood there, staring at her.

All that time, all that distance that you set, all that careful rebuilding of yourself, and one look from her and you were right back to being the woman who couldn't say no to the Alexia Putellas.

So you stepped outside, letting the door close behind you, Isabel still inside, still in her own little world that you didn't want Alexia to destroy.

The hallway felt too small suddenly, like the walls were closing in.

The carpet was red, royal red, and you could only think of blood.

There was so much blood the night before you left Alexia, blood from what you thought was a failed insemination,blood that you thought was from another one of your hopeful dreams being ripped away.

But no, that was just your body preparing a little more to receive Isabel.

You just didn't know that back then.

The hallway windows were closed, but you could still hear traffic sounds from the street below.

"You disappeared, Y/n." Alexia said, making you look at her, making you focus on the here and now, not on the past.

"You were fucking gone. No explanation, no goodbye, just a text message from your mom saying you didn't want contact. And now you show up with a daughter?"

Her words hit like a slap to the face.

You had hoped foolishly that maybe she would have forgotten about Isabel. That she was here just for you. But right now, it seemed like she was here just for Isabel.

"You have no idea what happened," you whispered, not sure why.

But that's how it always was between the two of you: she took full control, and you accepted everything she had to give, even if it was anger.

"Then make me understand!" Alexia was frustrated, hurt and angry, all the emotions she used to hide behind a facade were now coming through.

"You didn't give me a chance to understand anything. You just left! We were fucking married... we are married!"

You looked away because looking at her hurt too much.

You felt acid burning in your stomach. You thought that if it got any worse, it would burn your whole body too from the inside out.

You kind of wish that would happen.

You hated how you had practised this conversation a thousand times in your head, but none of that practice had prepared you for how small you would feel, how young, how much like the woman who used to cry on bathroom floors while Alexia was at away games.

"I don't owe you anything anymore." The words came out thick, the same one you had thought about minutes ago.

Your hands were shaking. Your jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. But you held firm because what else was there to do except (try to) look strong?

Alexia huffed, a cruel smirk on her face as if she wasn't believing what you were saying.

You thought she was going to open her mouth to say something, but she didn't. She just stared at you, looking deep into your eyes, and just...stood there.

The silence after that was brutal, it stretched between the two of you.

"You were my wife," Alexia said after a few seconds, and her voice cracked a little, finally showing you how much this seemed to destroy her too.

You were happy about that, you wanted to see her suffer, just a bit.

"You are my wife, Y/n. You never divorced," Alexia continued, anger on her voice. "You vanished while we were trying to have a family."

The word 'family' hit like a slap (again). Because that's what Isabel was, what you had built without her, what Alexia had no right to claim now.

Isabel was your family, no matter where she came from, no matter what sequence of nucleic acids she had in every single one of her cells.

"You don't know anything," you snapped, and the words came out raw, shaking with years of resentment.

"You were never there. You always had a game, always had something more important than me, than us, Alexia."

Your voice was breaking but you couldn't stop.

Five years of silence, and now it was all pouring out. You hated how tears were starting to pool in your eyes, how everything looked too wet, too broken.

"You were so focused on football, on your perfect fucking schedule, your body, your training, your press conferences. You never saw what it was doing to me." You said, taking a step towards her, making her take a step back, her lips were tight, her hands in fists against her expensive Prada coat.

"The meds and the injections that made me sick for weeks. The appointments where I sat alone in waiting rooms," you continued, tears now flowing freely.

"The negative tests I had to process by myself while you were in Madrid or at training or wherever the hell football took you."

Alexia just stood there, frozen, like she had never considered that her absence had consequences.

Alexia was intelligent, but she could also be so dumb at times, it made you want to pluck all of her hairs out.

"I was alone," you whispered. "When I needed you the most, when everything was falling apart, when I had yet another failed IVF, you were gone, again."

Alexia was staring at you like she was seeing you for the first time, really seeing you. Not her polite, beloved, obedient, dream of a wife. But you.

Then her face fixated on the door behind you, where cartoon sounds started to come through. Isabel had probably turned the TV on.

"Who is she, Y/n?" Alexia's voice was quiet now, careful, as if trying not to step on broken glass. "The kid. Who is she?"

You wrapped your arms around your body, letting one rest on your elbow.

"She's my daughter. She's part of my life, and my life doesn't concern you anymore."

Alexia's jaw clenched even more, and you could see her working through it, putting pieces together like she was analysing a game.

"We were going through IVF," she said dangerously. "We were trying to have a child, and then you disappeared, and now you show up with a daughter who looks—"

"She has nothing to do with you," you interrupted, panic rising in your chest. "It was... after I left. A one-night stand."

The lie tasted like metal, like iron on your tongue.

Alexia laughed, but there was no humour in it.

"Don't lie to me, Y/n, yo-you wouldn't have a-a o-one night stand," Alexia said. She wasn't making much sense now, as if the heaviness of the situation had finally caught up to her.

"We were trying for a baby, and the next day you were gone, and the kid is here—"

"I needed to feel like I existed, Alexia!" you interrupted her, lying.

"I needed to feel like I mattered to someone, like I wasn't just waiting around for you to have time for me between matches and media obligations and whatever else was more important."

"So yeah, it happened. Now I have her," you said, exhaling. "I met someone, and Isabel happened, and she's mine and you had nothing to do with it."

But Alexia was shaking her head, stepping closer, and you could see her remembering details from the night at the event.

"She doesn't look like you, though," Alexia said slowly. "Not really. But she looks like... she has my eyes, Y/n."

Your face went cold. "She takes after her father."

"Her eyes. Her mouth." Alexia ignored you, as if you had never spoke the word 'father'.

You already knew everything that Isabel had that was just like Alexia, both physical and personality-wise, you could give Alexia a list, but it seemed like she had already caught it.

"She's mine, isn't she?" Alexia asked carefully, in a low voice.

You didn't know what to say, you were shaking your head, trying to think of something, trying to use words like 'one night stand', and 'drunk' and 'mistake', but they didn't come out, not with the way Alexia was looking so deeply at you.

"Isabel is mine, I know it. I feel it." Alexia stepped closer, just mere centimetres putting you two apart. "Were you pregnant when you ran away?"

You couldn't answer. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't fucking breathe. You couldn't think.

"Did you leave me while you were pregnant with my baby?"

"She's not yours," you said again, but the words sounded hollow even to you, a lie, a devilish lie that Alexia already knew wasn't true.

"If you used my egg, if she's from our IVF, then she's my daughter too." Alexia said coldly. "The doctors said your eggs weren't good, that you wouldn't be able to get pregnant on your own. Isabel is mine, you used my egg."

You could feel your face hot with anger.

You tried to push Alexia away, but she didn't move an inch, she stood there, stone cold as you put all of your body weight, trying to move her shoulder.

You didn't realize you were touching her, you didn't realize you were trying to hurt Alexia, trying to push her away, to scratch her face with your nails.

"She's mine, Y/n," Alexia said, now taking your arms into her hands, keeping you in place, not letting you move.

Her touch was warm and incredibly soft given the situation.

You missed her touch. You wanted her gone.

You wanted freedom, but she was keeping you still, once again, trapping you.

"She's not fucking yours!" You yelled right in Alexia's face, but her expression didn't change, she was composed now, as if the truth was all she needed, as if now she had the upper hand, no matter how much you fought, how much you yelled.

You were trying to get away from her grip, but Alexia didn't let you.

"You're going to hurt yourself," Alexia said. "You're nervous, calm down."

"I'm not," you shouted. "Let me fucking go—"

You heard the door opening behind you.

Alexia let go of your arms as if you were burning her.

You didn't need to turn to see who it was.

You quickly cleaned your eyes of tears and turned around, trying to stay in front of Alexia, trying to shield Isabel from her.

"Mami, you're yelling," Isabel said, completely casual, like she didn't understand what was happening. And she didn't.

Isabel had never seen someone fighting in front of her.

You smiled, trying to fight the new tears that were coming, kneeling in front of her, trying to pull yourself together.

"Cariño, go back and watch your cartoons, okay? Just one more minute."

Isabel looked between you and Alexia with those too-perceptive eyes. "Okay, Mami."

The door clicked shut behind her, and you turned back to face Alexia, who was staring at the spot where Isabel had been like she was seeing a ghost.

"She's my kid," Alexia's voice was raw now. "The IVF worked, and you knew, and you left anyway."

You pressed your back against the door, arms wrapped around yourself.

"You don't get to do this," you whispered. "You don't get to walk in here after five years and decide she's yours."

"Walk in?" she asked, completely indignant.

"I wouldn't need to walk in after five years if I knew about her in the first place! How could you be so fucking selfish, Y/n? Run away and take our daughter from me? She fucking grew up without her other mom? Mierda! What the fuck was wrong with y—"

"She's mine!" The words tore out of you.

Alexia looked at you with wide eyes agian.

"I carried her. I gave birth to her alone in a hospital in Switzerland, and no one spoke my language." You continued, counting on your fingers at each sentence.

"I raised her. Fed her, changed her, stayed up all night when she was sick. Her name is on my documents, my passport, my insurance. She calls me Mami. She's mine."

"I'm not trying to take her—"

"Yes, you are!" you shouted. "That's what happens next, isn't it? You'll get lawyers, tell them I lied, that I stole her from you, that I'm an unfit mother who ran away—"

"Y/n, stop."

But you couldn't stop, the panic was too big, taking up all the space in your chest.

"I can't lose her too, Alexia. I can't." You looked up at her, completely vulnerable. "You don't understand what that would do to me. She's all I have. She's everything I have."

And there it was.

The truth that had been eating you alive for five years.

You had built a whole life around protecting Isabel and you from this moment, and now it was here anyway, and you were falling apart just like you would known you would.

You spent so much time trying to protect Isabel that you forgot to protect yourself.

"Y/n," Alexia said gently, a tone you hadn't heard in years. "Hey, breathe, you aren't breathing."

You closed your eyes, trying to do what she asked, but no air was getting in.

You were going to die, you were sure that was what was happening.

You heart was going to stop soon, Isabel would be motherless and sad and someone needed ot take care of her and--

"Breath, por favor," Alexia begged, but her voice still sounded distance. "Deep breath, come one.'

You tried once again to fill your lungs with oxygen, but it wasn't enough.

Alexia tried to touch your hand, but you flinched, pulling them closer to your body.

"Y/n, please," she said, she was closer to you now, you could feel it. "I'm not taking her from you. She's as much your daughter as she is mine, I-I would never, never take her away from you like that."

Alexia's words were mumbled, you couldn't hear them properly, couldn't understand.

You were shaking now, all of your body, your hands were cold and wet.

You couldn't form any coherent thought, all you could feel was fear and panic.

"Okay," Alexia said, but it was more to herself. "Let-let me just... don't panic, okay?"

You felt her hand very hesitantly wrap around your body, first she touched your forearm, she noticed how you didn't react, so she placed her other hand on your back and gently brought your body to hers.

"Shh, it's okay," she whispered, her chin laying on top of your head.

You let her, you didn't have anything left, no strength, you let her hug you, let her hold you, although it felt foreign.

She rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you hated how it was working, hated how the physical touch was helping ground you.

"I'm not gonna do any harm to you or her," Alexia said, and, if you weren't so out of your mind, you would swear she kissed the top of your head. "Te prometo."

Still, you were shaking, and you noticed Alexia starting to get nervous because you weren't talking, weren't breathing, and hadn't open your eyes yet.

"Do you want some water?" Alexia tried again, looking lost, looking nothing like the usual Alexia.

"Do you wanna get into the room? Do you have water there? I-I don't know what to do, mi amor."

Mi amor.

The old pet name slipped, betrayingly, from Alexia's lips.

She froze, her arms rigid around you

You wanted to fight her, ask how dare she use the pet name on you after making you so miserable for so much time.

But again, your soul had stretched itself thin.

You took a step to the left, Alexia stood where she was.

You wiped your face, drying your tears on your shirt.

"I-I'll go inside," you said, your voice still shaky. "I think there's water, but I don't—"

"Is it okay if I come with you?" she asked, and the gentleness in her voice surprised you.

You didn't want her inside your space, inside the little bubble you had built with Isabel, but you nodded anyway. Because what else could you do?

You opened the door and slipped inside, leaving it cracked open behind you.

If Alexia wanted to follow, she could follow.

You went straight to the mini fridge, hands trembling as you searched through the pre-packaged hotel food and Isabel's strawberry yogurts for a water bottle.

You needed water, needed to breathe, needed to pull yourself back together before Isabel saw how distressed you were.

You didn't look, but you knew Alexia had moved closer to where Isabel was curled up on the small sofa, Scooby Doo playing quietly in the background. Your daughter looked so small suddenly, so young.

"Hola, Isabel," Alexia said softly, like she was approaching a scared animal. "I'm...I'm your mom's friend."

Isabel looked up from the cartoon, blinking those hazel eyes that were too familiar.

She narrowed her eyes in that way that meant she was suspicious of something.

"My mom doesn't have friends."

You had to bite a smile while you drank water, taking one sip, then another, wiping your face one more time before turning around to face them.

And there they were, face to face for the second time, and there was no denying how much they looked alike.

Your heart clenched so tight you thought it might stop beating.

"Well," Alexia said, and she was smiling now, really smiling for the first time since she had saw you. "I'm trying to be her first one."

Isabel studied her with that serious expression she got when adults said things that didn't make sense to her.

Then she looked at you, and you saw the exact moment she decided to be brutally honest.

"You made mami cry." She said protectively.

Alexia wasn't expecting that. Her smile faltered as she looked between Isabel and you. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay, bebé," you interrupted, forcing what had to be the fakest smile in history as you made your way over to them.

You knelt beside the sofa, your hand almost touching Alexia's knee. "mami's just tired."

Isabel stared at you for a long moment . "You're lying."

You dropped your head back and groaned. This child and her complete inability to let anything slide.

Alexia's smile came back, softer now, sadder. You could see that Isabel's bluntness was getting to her.

"Come here, Bebel," you said, getting up from the floor and sitting on the sofa.

Isabel immediately climbed into your lap and curled against you like she could sense you needed her.

You kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent, the same shampoo she had used since she was a baby.

"Remember what we talked about? About thinking before we say things out loud?"

Isabel nodded against your chest. "But you are lying, Mami. And lying's not nice."

Alexia's smiled. "Your mami's not lying," she said gently. "She is tired. She's been working very hard."

Isabel peeked at Alexia from where she was hiding her face in your chest. "Mami, who is she?"

You and Alexia shared a look over Isabel's head.

Who was Alexia now? Who had she been to you? Who was she after those years? Who was she to Isabel? And who was she going to be?

The questions hung in the air.

"Her name is Alexia," you said finally, running your hands through Isabel's light brown hair. "She plays football."

Isabel peeked at Alexia again. "Football?"

Alexia's face lit up with pride, the way it always did when anyone asked about her career. "Sí, I do. Do you like football?"

Isabel wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. "No. Mami said football's stupid."

You felt your face flush completely red. Of all the things for Isabel to remember perfectly.

Alexia looked up at you, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, she did?"

"Sí," Isabel said solemnly. "She says she hates it."

"Well..." Alexia said, scooting closer to Isabel and, consequently, closer to you. Close enough that you could smell her perfume again. "I'll tell you a secret, okay? Are you good at keeping secrets?"

"Yes," Isabel said at the exact same time you said, "No."

Alexia ignored your answer completely.

"Your mami just hates football because she was never really good at it - ouch!"

You kicked Alexia's shin, not hard, but hard enough to make your point.

For a second you panicked, hoping you hadn't kicked an injured leg.

"Bebé," you said, shifting Isabel's position on your lap so she was looking at you. "Why don't you go to the bathroom and wait for Mami there? We need to brush your teeth, sí?"

Isabel was ready to argue - you could see it in her face - but she saw how serious you looked and nodded. "Okay, Mami."

She climbed down and walked toward the bathroom, her Spider-Man socks making soft sounds on the hardwood floor.

When the bathroom door clicked shut, you took all the courage you had left and said, "We can talk. Tomorrow. Real talk, not... not this."

Alexia blinked like she hadn't expected that. And in reality, she hadn't.

"The hotel restaurant?" you suggested. "Eleven?"

She nodded quickly. "I have training, but—" She stopped herself, and you saw the moment she made the choice. The same choice she should have made five years ago.

"I'll be there," she said firmly, like there was no doubt. "You'll stay here, right? In Barcelona? You won't... go somewhere else with her?"

You sank your nails into your palms, fighting every instinct that told you to run.

You wanted to grab Isabel and disappear again, start over somewhere new.

You had gotten good at running.But you were tired of it. So fucking tired of always looking over your shoulder.

"I'll stay until we sort everything out," you said.

"Good." Alexia's lips were tight, like she was holding back a thousand questions. "I'll see you then."

"Yeah."

You sat there in silence for a moment. From the bathroom came the sound of Isabel singing softly to herself, some song from one of her cartoons.

"Are you okay now?" Alexia asked quietly.

"Not really," you said, and maybe Isabel's bluntness came from you after all. "I don't think I've been okay for a long time."

Alexia's face softened. "I hope... I hope we can both be better soon. All of us."

"Me too."

And for the first time in five years, you weren't lying.

Alexia stood up slowly, like she was reluctant to leave whatever you two - you three - had accidentally created. She looked toward the bathroom where Isabel was still singing, then back at you.

"She's beautiful," she said, decidedly. "I want to get to—"

"I know," you whispered.

"We talk tomorrow," Alexia said, and it sounded like a promise.

"Tomorrow."

She walked to the door, paused with her hand on the handle. "Y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For...for agreeing to talk."

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

After she left, you sat on the sofa for a long time, listening to Isabel brush her teeth and chatter to herself in the mirror.

Your phone buzzed with a text from your one of your sisters asking how the job was going, and you stared at it for a while before deleting it without responding.

How could you explain that your life had turned upside down?

That the woman you had spent five years running from was going to be sitting across from you tomorrow, asking questions you didn't know how to answer?

"Mami!" Isabel called from the bathroom. "I don't know hwo to use the floss thing!"

"Coming, bebé," you called back, pushing yourself up from the sofa.

Tomorrow you would tell Alexia the truth about everything .

Tomorrow you would face the consequences of every choice you had made since the day you left Barcelona with her baby (unknowingly) growing inside you.

But today, you would be taking your daughter to the hotel pool and you would buy her ice cream.

Today, you would savour the last few days with only the two of you.

You knew everything was going to change in a matter of twenty-four hours. You just didn't know how much.

A/n: This is my first time writing something a bit more emotionally complicated, so Im a little nervous to share it. The characters' past and present are pretty messy, and their feelings can be hard to pin down. I hope I did them justice, and I would love to hear what you think.

Tag list: @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics @riyaexee @miaereen@kiwidreamersstuff

#breaking my heart (but i liked it)#family fic #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #rpf x reader #fic rec

1K notes · View notes

chai-berries · 17 days ago

Text

Part 8

You go to your cousins wedding in Spain, and you catch the eye of the Alexia Putellas, she unintentionally becomes your plus one

Wordcount: 8.4k

Other Parts

After an ask I got I feel I should say, if Alexia is speaking to a native Spanish person, she's speaking Spanish, not English but for purposes of the story I write it in English 👍🏻

The day had been a marathon seventeen interviews, three outfit changes, and an endless rotation of bright lights, cameras, and the same core set of questions. By the time you finally wrapped at 7 pm your cheeks ached from smiling and your voice felt like sandpaper.

Now, a couple of hours later, you were finally in a bar’s open air courtyard, the Spanish night warm and buzzing with chatter. String lights crisscrossed above, casting a glow over your table, where the remnants of shared tapas sat between half empty glasses.

Emily was next to you, leaning back in her chair, her beer bottle balanced loosely between her fingers. She clinked it gently against yours. “To a successful trip,” she said with a grin.

“To a very successful trip,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink.

Sarah, your makeup artist, raised her cocktail in mock solemnity. “And to my work surviving twelve hours of hot lights without melting off your face.”

“That setting spray should have its own award,” you teased.

Dan, your hairstylist, gave a little flourish with his hands, as if presenting you. “And let’s not forget the real hero here my ability to wrangle that hair into three distinct styles without losing my sanity.”

Mike, your stylist, leaned in, smirking over the rim of his glass of wine. “And ensuring you didn’t flash an entire camera crew in look number two.”

You laughed, covering your face. “That skirt was risky, Mike, and you know it.”

The five of you dissolved into laughter, the kind that came easily after a long, exhausting, but rewarding day. You leaned back in your seat, letting the night breeze brush over your skin, the low hum of the bar washing over you like a soft blanket.

Emily nudged you gently. “You look happy.”

You glanced at her, a small smile playing on your lips. “I am happy. Happiest I've been in a long time”

Your longest friend since you were five gave you the softest smile, "Good" she knew the tribulations you'd been through these past few years and was finally glad you were out the other side and thriving.

You drawn into listening to Dan tell a ridiculous story about a disastrous celebrity hair job when your phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up, and even before you glanced down, you felt that little spark you knew exactly who it would be.

Alexia 🤎: Hola Muppet, you finish work?

A smile crept across your face without you even trying. Emily noticed immediately, her brows shooting up as she tilted her head toward your phone. “Ah, there she is.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother denying it, quickly tapping out a reply.

You: Yep. 7am to 7pm. Dead.

It took less than thirty seconds for the next bubble to appear.

Alexia 🤎: I make you not dead. Come here.

You bit your lip, laughing softly at the bluntness.

You: Where’s “here”?

A location pin dropped into the chat her house. Then another message.

Alexia 🤎: I am home all night. You come whenever you can. I wait.

You stared at the screen for a second, that familiar flutter in your chest kicking up. It had been only 24 hours since you’d last seen her, but it already felt far too long.

Emily leaned in to peek, her voice low but teasing. “You going to go?.”

You glanced around at the rest of your team, Sarah mid-laugh, Mike gesturing wildly at Dan’s latest exaggeration and felt a pang of guilt at the thought of cutting the night short.

You: Might be late.

Alexia 🤎: I wait all night if I need. Just come.

You exhaled slowly, your thumb lingering over the keyboard.

“Let me guess,” Emily said, smirking. “She’s home alone, and she wants to see you.”

You grinned, tucking your phone face-down on the table for now. “Something like that.”

Emily clocked your hesitation immediately and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Why don’t you just tell her to come here?”

You raised a brow. “To a crowded bar with four strangers after she’s probably had a long day of training?”

Mike cut in, grinning. “We’re not strangers, we’re fabulous and if she’s as smitten as you’ve been acting, she’ll make the trip.”

Sarah nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. Plus, I want to meet the girl who sent flowers that expensive looking. I saw that bouquet on your Instagram story weeks ago, it was gorgeous.”

Dan leaned back, sipping his drink with a sly smile. “Also, I just want to witness the dynamic. You’ve been floating around all week, and I need to know if it’s her or if you’ve joined some kind of cult.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Emily smirked. “You’re ridiculous. Text her. Tell her to come here. If she’s this amazing person you keep going on about, she can handle a quick drink with your friends."

Sarah raised her glass. “Yes, bring the goddess to us.”

Mike waggled his brows. “Please. I’ll even buy her a drink and promise not to tell her all your weird little quirks… for the first ten minutes.”

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was, the idea of her walking into this courtyard and meeting the people who’d been your little work family for years now made your stomach flip in a good way.

You picked up your phone again, thumbs hovering over the screen, a smile tugging at your lips. You took a deep breath, ignoring the expectant stares from your team, and typed quickly.

You: So… my friends are insisting they want to meet you. We’re at this bar with a courtyard. No pressure, but would you maybe want to come by for a drink?

You stared at it for a second, then added

You: They promise to behave.

Before you could even lock your phone, the typing dots appeared.

Alexia 🤎: They want meet me?

You: Yes. They’ve heard way too much about you already.

There was a pause.

Alexia 🤎: Hmm… I am in hoodie, no make up. Not football star today.

Emily leaned over your shoulder, whispering, “Tell her she could show up in pyjamas and we’d still love her.”

You smirked and typed

You: You could come in pyjamas and they’d still be obsessed. So would I to be fair

Another pause.

Alexia 🤎: Send me location.

You tried not to grin too wide, but it was useless. You dropped the pin, hit send, and almost immediately she replied

Alexia 🤎: I come. 20 minutes.

When you looked up from your phone, Emily was already smirking knowingly. “And that is how it’s done.”

Mike raised his glass in mock ceremony. “Ladies and gentlemen, the guest of honour is on her way.”

☀️

The twenty minutes felt more like two hours, your team alternating between playful interrogation “What’s her favourite colour?” “How tall is she?” “Can she braid hair?” and placing bets on how she’d arrive.

Then, through the courtyard’s entrance, you spotted her dark hoodie, hands tucked in her pockets, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you. That little flicker of recognition softened her whole expression.

You stood immediately, weaving through the tables to meet her halfway. “Hey,” you said, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

“Hola,” she murmured, her voice low, and pulled you in for a hug. It was warm, solid, like every time you saw her, the rest of the noise faded away for just a moment.

When she pulled back, she glanced around as if remembering you weren’t alone, but before you could step away, she leaned in and stole a quick kiss just a brush of her lips against yours, quick but intimate enough to make your team’s laughter carry over from your table.

You caught her hand, squeezing it. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Back at the table, you gestured to each in turn. “This is Emily my partner in crime in life. Sarah, makeup genius. Dan, hair magician. And Mike, the reason my outfits actually look intentional.”

They each greeted her warmly, though you could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she offered a small, polite smile but kept glancing at you for reassurance.

“She’s nervous,” Emily mouthed at you behind Alexia’s back, grinning.

You nudged Alexia’s knee under the table. “You’re okay,” you whispered, leaning closer so only she could hear. “They already adore you.”

Alexia gave you a small, almost shy smile, her fingers brushing against yours under the table as if she needed that quiet point of contact to settle in.

It took a few minutes for her to settle, but the more your friends chatted mostly about the day’s chaos, the endless wardrobe changes, and Dan’s ongoing feud with one of the lighting guys the more Alexia began to relax. You weren't sure she was picking up on every word they were saying but she would nod, smile and laugh at the right times so she was catching the gist of the conversations.

She just listened, no words were spoken, her hand resting on your thigh under the table, but when Sarah asked about her football, Alexia answered in her soft, careful English, and you could see the little spark of confidence grow with each word.

Still, you could sense she was holding herself a little tight, so you shifted your chair closer until your side pressed against hers. Then you slipped your arms around her waist, resting your chin over the back of her shoulder.

She stiffened for half a second, surprised, but then let out a breath you felt more than heard, leaning into you slightly. Her hoodie was soft under your chin, and you could feel the faint rise and fall of her breathing.

Mike raised his brows, smirking at the sight. “Comfort level, koala.”

“Shut up, Mike,” you said without lifting your head, your voice muffled against Alexia’s shoulder.

That made her laugh quietly, the sound vibrating through her into your chest. She reached down and lightly touched your forearm, not pulling you away if anything, holding you there.

Every now and then, you murmured something to her quietly, explaining a joke, translating a phrase when your team spoke too fast until you felt her shoulders loosen completely.

By the time Emily was telling her infamous accidental FaceTime disaster story, Alexia was smiling, tossing in the occasional ad lib in her charmingly accented way, even earning a round of laughter from your friends.

It was subtle, but you knew, she felt safe, you knew she trusted your circle just as much as you did.

Somewhere between Sarah’s story about a broken curling iron mid-shoot and Dan miming a dramatic wardrobe malfunction, you and Alexia quietly drifted into your own little bubble.

She turned slightly in her chair so her knees brushed yours, her hand finding yours under the table. You could feel her thumb drawing slow, absent minded circles against your skin as she leaned in closer.

“What?” you asked, catching the faint smile tugging at her lips.

Her eyes softened. “You… happy,” she said in her careful English, then hesitated, searching for the right words. “I like… see you happy.”

Your chest warmed. “I’m happy because you’re here.”

She gave a tiny shake of her head, pretending to disagree, but her smile betrayed her. You nudged her playfully with your shoulder, and she laughed quiet and warm, the kind of sound you wanted to keep hearing.

From there, it was just the two of you soft giggles at shared observations, her low voice in your ear when she teased you about something, your fingers brushing along her hoodie sleeve until she caught your hand and held it there.

Every so often, one of you would lean in and steal a kiss quick, stolen moments that tasted faintly of the sangria you’d been sipping. You didn’t care if your friends noticed. Her lips were soft, her smile still lingering against yours after each kiss, like neither of you really wanted to pull away.

At one point, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, her fingertips grazing your jaw in a way that made you forget the music, the chatter, the courtyard lights, everything except her. You were completely lost in her eyes her touch and the feelings she created within you.

Emily’s voice eventually cut through, joking, “Should we just leave you two here?” but you barely registered it. You were too caught up in the way Alexia’s eyes crinkled when she smiled at you, the warmth in her touch, and the quiet comfort of being wrapped up in nothing but each other.

You were mid-laugh at Emily when your gaze drifted down to her hands her fingers wrapped loosely around her glass and you froze for a second.

“Wait…” you murmured, leaning in closer, “is that my ring?”

She looked down like she hadn’t even realised, then gave a small, sheepish smile. “Ah… yes. You leave… in my baño,” she said, the word bathroom rolling out in that lilting Catalan accented English.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes playfully. “And you just… decided to keep it?”

She lifted her hand a little, like she was suddenly guilty of a crime. “I… was going to tell you. I wear… until see you. I give now.” She started to slide it off her finger.

Before she could, you reached out and gently pushed her hand back toward her. “No, keep it.”

Her brows lifted. “Keep?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “It suits you.”

Her lips curved slowly into a grin, and she glanced at the ring again before looking back at you with something softer in her eyes. “Then… I keep.”

You felt that little rush in your chest again the one you got whenever she let a piece of you into her world and the way she kept absently twisting the ring around her finger after that made you want to kiss her right there all over again.

Alexia kept turning the ring slowly, her thumb brushing over the metal like she was committing the feel of it to memory. “It’s… special?” she asked after a beat, glancing at you almost cautiously.

You shrugged lightly, though your smile gave you away. “A little, but I like it better on you.”

Her eyes softened, and for a moment she didn’t say anything just looked at you in that quiet, intent way of hers, like she was trying to work out how you were making her feel without her even noticing. Then, almost shyly, she lifted your joined hands to her lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

That simple gesture made your stomach flip. “You’re cute,” you whispered, grinning.

“Mm… you like cute,” she teased, her accent wrapping around the words in that playful way that made you melt.

“I do,” you admitted, leaning closer until your foreheads almost touched.

The rest of the table seemed to fade again voices turning into background hum as you and Alexia just sat there, close enough to feel each other’s breath, smiling like two people who’d forgotten anyone else existed. Her hand never left yours, the cool metal of your ring warm now against your skin.

You caught her looking down at it again, and she murmured softly, almost to herself, “I keep always.”

It didn’t take long for your little moment to be busted wide open.

Emily, who’d clearly been watching, leaned in with a knowing smirk. “Okay… what was that about?”

You blinked innocently. “What was what?”

Mike pointed blatantly at your joined hands. “The whole hand-kiss, secret-smile, ring exchange situation. You two are basically a walking romantic drama.”

Dan gasped theatrically. “Wait, ring exchange? Did you just propose in the middle of my cocktail?”

Alexia looked instantly flustered, her eyes darting to you like help me, while you just laughed. “Relax, it’s my ring. She found it in her bathroom.”

Sarah’s grin widened. “And instead of giving it back, she’s… wearing it? Like… a declaration?”

Emily’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Ohhh, so that’s your thing? Matching accessories instead of clothes?”

Alexia’s cheeks went faintly pink, and she ducked her head with a tiny smile, muttering, “They tease too much, like you.”

You squeezed her hand. “Yeah, they do,” you said softly, leaning close enough for only her to hear, “but you'll learn to give as good as you get soon”

Her smile deepened, a little bashful but unable to hide her happiness. Across the table, your friends groaned dramatically, but the truth was, they were eating up every second of it. They've never seen you this disgusting into someone before, they would be worried if they hadn't seen the way Alexia was with you, how she looked at you.

The round of drinks she bought really won them over. They were fickle your friends sometimes.

☀️

The night eventually began to wind down, the courtyard thinning out as the air grew cooler. Your team was still buzzing from the day, but you could feel the fatigue creeping in after your early start and twelve straight hours of media work.

Alexia noticed, she always did, she brushed her thumb over the back of your hand, leaning closer. “I take you home?” she asked softly.

That caught you off guard, and you gave her a little smile. “I don’t think I have the energy for… you know.” You hesitated. “… I’m tired.”

Her brows furrowed slightly before she shook her head quickly, a tiny smile playing at her lips. “No, no… I no ask you to come to do… stuff.” The way she said 'stuff' made you giggle. She squeezed your hand. “We cuddle… and sleep.”

You couldn’t help but grin at how earnest she was, the simplicity of it melting away any hesitation. “Just cuddle and sleep?” you teased.

She nodded, eyes warm. “Sí. You tired… I hold you. That’s all.”

Your chest gave that familiar little squeeze. “Okay,” you murmured, smiling softly. “I'll go home with you”

The way her face lit up told you it wasn’t about the where it was about having you there, close, even if all you did was fall asleep in her arms.

You stood, still holding Alexia’s hand, and your team’s heads all turned in unison like they knew exactly what was happening.

Emily smirked. “You off to Alexia's?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s been a long day, and I’m about two yawns away from face planting into the table.”

Sarah leaned back in her chair, grinning at Alexia. “Take care of our girl, yeah?”

Alexia nodded with that small, polite smile she gave when she was trying not to look shy. “I… will.”

Mike, of course, couldn’t resist. “Don’t keep her up too late, oh wait, never mind, you two already said it’s just cuddles.”

You shot him a look, but Alexia only squeezed your hand tighter, as if reassuring you she was fine with their teasing. Dan raised his glass. “Safe travels, smitten kittens.”

You laughed, shaking your head, and leaned over to give Emily a quick hug, then Sarah, then Mike and Dan. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, don’t get too drunk without me.”

Emily called after you as you started toward the courtyard exit. “No promises!”

Alexia gave them one last wave, and the two of you stepped out into the cooler night air, fingers lacing together naturally as you began walking toward where she’d parked.

The night air wrapped around you both as you made your way down the quiet street, your joined hands swinging slightly. Alexia’s car was parked just a short walk away, that looked as polished as she always seemed to be.

She opened the passenger door for you with a small, gentlemanly gesture that made you smile. “Gracias,” you murmured, sliding in.

When she got in on her side, she glanced at you before starting the engine. “Tired?” she asked.

You gave a little hum of agreement, leaning your head back against the seat. “You have no idea.”

As the car pulled away from the curb, the city lights painted the inside in flashes of gold and white. Neither of you talked much at first it was that comfortable kind of silence where the hum of the road was enough.

About ten minutes in, she reached across the console and took your hand again, her thumb tracing lazy patterns over your knuckles. You turned your head to look at her profile, the way her hoodie up over her head framed her face, the soft concentration as she drove, the faint smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re quiet,” you said softly.

She glanced at you briefly before returning her eyes to the road. “I… think. Is nice you here.”

Your heart did that little squeeze again. “It’s nice being here. Especially with you.”

She gave a tiny nod, like she was storing your words somewhere safe.

The rest of the ride was warm and easy, her hand never leaving yours until she pulled into her driveway a modern, luxurious house lit softly against the night sky.

She parked, turned off the engine, and looked over at you with that small, almost shy smile. “Home,” she said simply.

You reached for the door handle out of habit, but before you could push it open, Alexia was already out of the car, jogging around to your side.

You raised an eyebrow as she pulled the door open with a flourish. “You know I’m perfectly capable of”

Before you could finish, she leaned down, hooked her arms under your knees and back, and in one smooth motion lifted you clean off the seat.

“Alexia!” you squealed, giggling as you instinctively wrapped your arms around her neck. “Put me down!”

She shook her head, grinning like she’d just won a bet. “No. You tired… I carry.”

You tried to glare at her, but it was useless with the way she was looking at you so smug, so pleased with herself. “I can walk, you know.”

“I know,” she said, her accent making the words soft and warm, “but I like.”

You laughed, resting your head on her shoulder as she carried you up the path toward her front door. “This is ridiculous.”

She pressed her cheek against the top of your head briefly. “Maybe… but you smile.”

And you were smiling, wide and hopelessly fond, by the time she shifted you slightly so she could unlock the door and step inside, still holding you like you weighed nothing at all.

Alexia nudged the door closed with her hip, her trainers barely making a sound on the polished floor as she carried you through the quiet, softly lit house.

You lifted your head enough to glance around. Even though you’d been here before, the space still struck you warm neutral tones, clean lines, touches of personality tucked between the luxury.

But she didn’t stop to let you take it in. She moved with purpose, heading straight for the stairs. “Straight upstairs?” you teased.

She glanced down at you, lips twitching. “You say you tired. I take you… comfortable.”

You grinned, letting your head drop back onto her shoulder. “You’re spoiling me, Putellas.”

Her only response was a soft chuckle as she reached the top of the stairs and headed into her bedroom. The room smelled faintly of her perfume and fresh laundry, the bed already neatly made.

She set you down gently on the edge of the mattress, her hands lingering on your waist like she wasn’t quite ready to let go. “Stay,” she said, almost like an instruction, before crossing to her dresser. You kicked off your shoes and watched her pull out one of her oversized Barça training shirt and a pair of shorts, turning back to you with it in hand. “For you,” she said, offering it like a gift.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“Mm,” she hummed, that tiny proud smile playing on her lips. “Now… change. We cuddle.”

You took the clothes from her, the fabric soft and carrying that faint scent of her perfume. Alexia busied herself at her nightstand, pretending not to watch you change through the mirror, though the little upward curve of her lips betrayed her.

Once you slipped into the new outfit you padded over to the side of the bed she wasn't already occupying now “Happy?” you teased.

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to take your hand, tugging you gently toward the mattress. “Come.”

You climbed in, sliding under the covers, and she moved closer to the middle, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Without hesitation, Alexia wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in until your back was snug against her chest.

Her warmth was immediate, her breathing slow and steady. She pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck before tucking her face there, like it was her favourite place to be.

“Better?” she murmured.

“Much better,” you whispered, your fingers finding hers under the blanket.

For a while, neither of you spoke just the sound of your breaths syncing, the steady thump of her heart against your back. Every so often, she would run her hand up and down your side in slow, absent strokes, as if reassuring herself you were really there.

You smiled to yourself, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up, and let your eyes drift shut. “You’re dangerous, you know,” you mumbled sleepily.

“How?” she asked, voice low. "You say that a lot"

“Because you make it impossible to leave.”

She chuckled softly, hugging you just a little tighter. “Good.” that was the last thing you heard before you started to drift, safe and completely wrapped up in her.

☀️

The first thing you registered when you woke was her warmth.

Morning light spilled in through the half-open curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You were still curled against Alexia, her arm draped over your waist, her hand resting just under the hem of the Barca shirt you wore.

Her breathing was slow and even, clearly still asleep, but there was a faint crease between her brows, like even in rest she was thinking. You shifted slightly to face her, and the movement made her lashes flutter.

“Bon dia,” she murmured, voice rough and low from sleep.

You smiled. “Morning.”

She blinked a few times, then gave you this slow, sleepy grin that made your stomach flip. “You still here.”

You laughed softly. “Of course I’m still here.”

Her fingers traced lazy circles against your side under the covers. “I think… maybe I dream.”

You tilted your head. “About what?”

She gave a little shrug. “About you in my bed like this.”

That quiet honesty made you melt, and before you could reply, she leaned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to your lips slow and unhurried, like she had no intention of letting the day start just yet.

When she pulled back, her eyes stayed on yours. “We stay… little more?”

You nestled closer, smiling against her collarbone. “Yeah. A little more.”

Her arm tightened around you, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist.

☀️

The kitchen smelled like fresh coffee and toasted bread as you and Alexia moved around each other, the morning sunlight spilling through the large windows. You reached for the butter, and she brushed your hand with hers, letting her fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

“Careful,” she teased, leaning closer as she stirred the eggs. “You take my hand, you get kiss.”

You grinned, leaning up to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Hmm… deal.”

Every movement became a little dance. You passed her ingredients, and she pressed her hip against yours when she reached for the salt. You chopped vegetables side by side, her hand lightly resting on your lower back as she leaned over the counter.

“And the eggs,” she murmured, grabbing the pan as you reached for it. Your fingers brushed, and she turned to you with that sly smile. “Kiss now?”

You couldn’t resist, tilting your head up and letting your lips meet hers, soft and warm. She hummed against you, then nipped your bottom lip playfully before pulling back, eyes sparkling.

When it was time to plate the food, you both kept brushing against each other hands accidentally, or maybe not so accidentally, grazing, hips bumping. Every time one of you passed the salt or stirred something, a cheek, a forehead, a quick peck, whatever you could steal ended up happening.

By the time you sat down at the dining table, both of you were laughing softly, foreheads almost touching as you reached across to steal a piece of toast from each other’s plates, sneaking quick kisses in between bites.

You were wrapped up in your own little universe, full of giggles, touches, and kisses that felt like tiny declarations of just how perfectly tangled together you were.

☀️

You stood up from the table, stacking your plate on top of hers before she could even finish the last sip of her coffee.

Alexia frowned immediately. “No, no… you guest. I clean.”

You shook your head, already carrying the dishes to the sink. “Alexia, it’s fine. I’m not bothered.”

She followed you, crossing her arms like she was trying to block you with her presence alone. “No I do later. Is my home.”

You turned on the tap, rinsing the plates. “Yeah, and your home is going to smell like eggs if we leave this all day.”

Her lips twitched like she wanted to laugh, but she stayed firm. “I have work call. Zoom. Ten minutes. With team and coaches. Then I clean.”

You grabbed the sponge, looking over your shoulder at her. “Then let me do it now while you go set up for your call.”

She sighed, stepping closer like proximity alone might make you put the sponge down. “You not bother with this. Is my job.”

You smirked, flicking a tiny bit of water her way just to make her smile. “Alexia, I promise you, washing up a couple of dishes isn’t exactly hard labour. Go, before you’re late.”

She stared at you for a beat longer, then exhaled dramatically, muttering something in Spanish under her breath that google would tell you was impossible woman, before finally backing toward the hallway.

“I come back if you still here with sponge, I take it,” she warned with a playful point of her finger.

You laughed, turning back to the sink. “Sure you will, boss.”

You were wiping down the counter when the sound of voices floated in from the dining table quick, lively Spanish that you couldn’t keep up with to even try to translate, though the tone was unmistakably excited.

Then you heard it. Carmen.

Your head turned automatically toward the noise. Alexia was sitting straight at the table, laptop open, the Barcelona crest on the corner of the screen a man sitting in front of it. The voices through the speakers grew louder, overlapping with laughter and cheers. Alexia’s face lit up, and then she started clapping loud and proud, that kind of smile she only got when she was genuinely overjoyed for someone.

Around her, more clapping and cheering echoed from the call, some voices calling Carmen’s name again. You didn’t need to understand the words to know exactly what had just happened.

Your lips curved into a smile, warmth blooming in your chest. So Carmen had been announced to them. She was officially a Barça player, you heard her voice so she must of joined the call.

You stayed put in the kitchen, quietly drying your hands on a tea towel, not wanting to interrupt Alexia’s moment with her team. Watching her, the pride radiating off her in waves, made you love her a little more in that quiet, unspoken way how fiercely she celebrated the people she cared about.

“Alexia,” Carmen grinned, leaning closer to her camera, “Did she not tell you?”

Alexia tilted her head. “Who?”

Carmen blinked, surprised. “Wait Y/N didn’t tell you I got signed?”

Alexia shook her head slowly, brows knitting. “No”

From the other windows, she could hear a few teammates giggling, clearly already knowing what was coming. Carmen laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Wow, I told her the other day!… she’s scary good at keeping secrets. I really thought she’d tell you. You two are like” she waved her hand vaguely, “one at this point”

Alexia’s mind was turning, trying to place when exactly Carmen had called you and then it hit her. Her eyes widened. “Oh my god! I was with her when you phone her!” she blurted out, pointing at the camera. “We were on the sofa she still didn’t tell me!” The whole call erupted in laughter, and Alexia sat back in her chair, still shaking her head in disbelief. “Impossible, woman…” she muttered, a mix of shock and something almost like admiration curling in her chest, before she called out, “Muppet”

From the kitchen, you appeared in the doorway, leaning casually on the frame, tea towel still in hand. You were half in shot on the Zoom call, enough for the team to see you without you realising.

“You knew about Carmen and didn’t tell me?” Alexia asked, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to look intimidating.

You smiled, unfazed. “You didn’t ask? And I figured from what I said, you could’ve worked that out for yourself.”

Her mouth fell open just a little. “You too good at secrets.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Serves you well, doesn’t it?” Alexia gave you that look the one that said she was half annoyed, half impressed, and entirely smitten. “Don’t give me that look, Putellas,” you shot back, pointing the tea towel at her in mock warning.

From the laptop, muffled giggles and whispers came through, the girls on the call were clearly eating this up, a few of them grinning wide at the exchange.

Alexia tried to hide her own smile as she waved you away, pretending to focus back on the call, but her eyes lingered on you for just a second longer, like she wasn't door admiring you in her shirts and a training top in her home so comfortably,

From the laptop, Carmen made your movement halt “Y/N!” she called out, grinning wide. “You’re in Barça and didn’t think to visit?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I’m here for work,” you said with a shrug, still leaning on the doorframe.

Carmen raised a brow, smirking. “You look busy.”

You tilted your head, your smile growing. “It’s called a day off.”

The call erupted in a mix of chuckles and teasing oohs from the players, and you could see Alexia trying to hide her amusement while pretending to be stern with both you and Carmen.

Alexia shook her head, muttering, “Madre mía…” but there was a glint in her eyes that said she secretly loved how easily you slipped into her life like you'd always been there.

You’d barely finished speaking when Patri’s voice came through the speakers, loud enough for you to hear from the kitchen.

“Alexiaaaa…” she sang, dragging the name out in a way that immediately made Alexia’s eyes narrow.

“What?” Alexia asked, already sounding defensive.

“You’re so soft for her,” Patri teased, grinning wickedly at the camera. “Look at you, smiling like that. You don’t smile like that with us, Y/N you need to come to training so she's not so mean!”

The rest of the call erupted in laughter and knowing oohs. Jana leaned in from her little Zoom square and added, “She calls, you come running. She’s got you trained, we'll have to have her share some pointers on how to control you”

Pina cackled. “No, no, she doesn’t even need to call. She thinks about her, and Alexia’s halfway out the door.”

Alexia’s cheeks flushed just slightly, and she shook her head quickly. “No es verdad,” she muttered, glancing down at her screen, but the corner of her mouth was tugging upward despite herself.

“They’re not wrong, Putellas.” you said from the kitchen doorway, you just crossed your arms, smirking after holding up your little finger with an insinuation the girls instantly picked up on.

That made the call explode again, and Alexia looked up at you, narrowing her eyes in mock warning before muttering under her breath, “You wait…” But the way she was looking at you made it clear she didn’t actually mind them teasing her. Not one bit.

Patri squinted at her screen, leaning in. “Wait” she pointed toward you, “is that a tea towel in your hand? She putting you to work, Y/N?”

You glanced at the towel, then back at the camera, giving an exaggerated nod. “Hmm… she expects girlfriend privileges on a side piece entry.”

The whole call burst into laughter, some players doubling over in their little Zoom boxes. Alexia turned her head slowly to look at you, lips pressed together like she was trying to keep her expression neutral. “You not funny,” she said, her broken English somehow making it sound even more serious though the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

You grinned, leaning casually against the frame. “I think I’m hilarious.”

Alexia just shook her head and waved you away, muttering, “Go before I fire you from cleaning.” But her eyes followed you back into the kitchen, soft and warm, even as her teammates continued to tease her about how gone she was for you.

☀️

The second Alexia’s call ended, you heard the faint click of her laptop closing, followed by the scrape of her chair against the floor.

Before you could even finish wiping down the counter, you felt two strong arms snake around your waist from behind. “You think you funny,” she murmured against your ear, her accent thick, her voice low enough to make your stomach flip.

You smirked, setting the tea towel aside but not turning around just yet. “I was funny. Admit it.”

Her arms tightened, pulling you flush against her. “No not funny,” she said, though her lips were brushing the shell of your ear, completely giving away the truth.

You finally turned in her hold, looping your arms around her neck. “Mhm. You loved it.”

Alexia sighed, shaking her head, but the soft smile spreading over her face told you she did. She pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, lingering just long enough to make your chest ache in the best way. “You clean, you tease, you make me look” she searched for the word, her brow furrowing, “soft.”

“That’s because you are soft, Putellas,” you teased, grinning when she rolled her eyes and kissed you again this time deeper, slower.

Alexia’s hands still rested lightly on your hips as she leaned back slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You know,” she said, tilting her head, “you not ask me to be your girlfriend.”

You blinked, half amused, half caught off guard. “Why would I do that?”

She shrugged casually, almost as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “I don’t know why you no ask me?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Because you’re the top. You should ask.”

Alexia hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head and letting her fingers brush up your arms. “You are pillow princess, so maybe I should.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, a mix of surprise and amusement. “What did you just call me?”

She grinned, stepping back just enough to create some playful distance. “And this time when I say,” she said, waggling her eyebrows, “I have evidence.”

The smirk on her face was irresistible, and you couldn’t help but laugh, your curiosity instantly piqued. “Evidence? Oh, what kind of evidence are we talking about?”

She only chuckled, the sound low and teasing, as she backed toward the sofa, her whole body language daring you to follow. Alexia laughed, shaking her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You… funny,” she said, tilting her head, but there was a teasing edge to her tone.

“You literally told me you like to give, not receive, Alexia,” you countered, mock offended, raising your eyebrows at her.

“I mean… only with strap,” she said, her voice trailing off slightly as if she knew you were about to push her buttons.

You stared her down, letting your gaze lock with hers. “Take your shorts off.”

Alexia blinked, slightly confused. “What?”

“Now.” Your tone left no room for argument.

She giggled, shaking her head. “Bossy,” she breathed, the word barely escaping as moved to straddle her where she sat, your lips agonisingly close to hers. Your fingers dipped just under the hem of her shorts, brushing her skin teasingly.

“When I’m done with you, Putellas,” you whispered, “you’ll be begging me to be your girlfriend.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching. “I have no the evidence for that yet, muppet.”

You smirked, tightening your gaze, and punctuated each word slowly, “Then… take… your, shorts… off.”

Her giggle turned into a soft, breathy laugh as she hesitated, caught between defiance and amusement, while you held her in your stare, daring her to give in.

Alexia stayed frozen for a beat, her smirk tugging at one corner of her lips, clearly enjoying making you wait.

You sighed dramatically, then closed the tiny gap between you, catching her mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss. She melted instantly, her teasing composure slipping as your lips moved against hers, deepening until your tongues slid together in a warm, messy tangle.

Her fingers curled into your shirt, holding you there like she didn’t want the kiss to end. When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, your noses still brushing, you murmured, “Now?”

Alexia’s eyes were darker now, her smirk softer, almost shy as she bit her bottom lip. Without a word, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and pushed them down, letting them fall to the floor pooling at her feet.

“You happy?” she teased, but her voice had a rough edge now, betraying the fact that you’d completely broken her little game.

You grinned. “Ecstatic.” Your fingers found the hem of her shirt, and you toyed with it for a moment, eyes locked on hers. “Arms up,” you said softly but firmly.

Alexia’s lips curled in that faintly amused, faintly nervous smile you loved, but she obeyed, lifting her arms so you could peel the shirt over her head. You tossed it aside without looking, your gaze sweeping over her now bared body beneath you, and the faint blush already blooming across her chest.

“Beautiful,” you murmured, leaning in to press a lingering kiss just below her collarbone. She sucked in a small breath, her hand coming to rest lightly on the back of your neck.

You trailed more kisses down the centre of her torso, slow enough to make her shiver, your mouth brushing over her ribs, then the curve of her stomach. Her fingers flexed against you, not quite pulling you closer but not letting you go either.

When you reached her waist, you lowered yourself to kneel in front of her, your eyes flicking up to catch hers again. Alexia was watching you with that look the one where she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to challenge you or just give in entirely.

You stayed kneeling between her knees, your hands splayed over her thighs, thumbs brushing circles over warm skin.

Alexia’s grin softened into something else, anticipation, curiosity, her breathing just a little quicker now. You leaned forward, your cheek brushing her thigh as you let your lips trail a path over her skin, slow enough to make her squirm.

Her fingers threaded into your hair, not pulling you, just keeping you there. “Who’s in control?” you murmured, tilting your head to look up at her from your position.

She exhaled a small laugh, though it was breathless. “Still me?” she tried, but her voice betrayed her.

You smirked, your hands sliding higher, your touch deliberate and confident. “We’ll see about that.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke just the sound of your breaths mingling, your gaze holding hers in a wordless challenge, then, gave a small shake of her head, surrender written all over her face.

That was all the permission you needed.

You shifted closer, your hands coaxing her thighs apart, Alexia’s breath caught, her eyes fixed on you, that faint crease between her brows betraying how intently she was feeling every movement.

You pressed soft, deliberate kisses along the inside of her leg, each one drawing a tiny twitch from her muscles. Her fingers tightened in your hair, her knuckles brushing your scalp, and you could feel her fighting the urge to pull you closer.

“You’re impatient,” you teased, your voice low against her skin.

Her lips curled into a smile, but her voice was husky. “You too slow.”

You ignored her little jab and continued your slow path upward, your mouth and hands working together to coax soft gasps from her lips. Every time she shifted forward, you leaned back just enough to make her wait, grinning when she muttered something under her breath in Spanish.

When you finally gave her what she wanted and your tongue found her clit, she let out a sharp exhale, her head tilting back against the sofa. The sound she made half sigh, half laugh was the kind of thing you wanted to bottle and keep forever.

Her grip in your hair tightened again, but now it was less control, more surrender. You could feel her body relaxing into your touch, her breathing uneven, her voice breaking on your name in a way that made you smile against her.

You rose your eyes just long enough to meet her gaze, her eyes heavy-lidded and full of heat, you were met with Alexia shaking her head slowly, her lips curving despite her breathlessness you made her forget how to speak at all. "You eyes make me crazy" she managed barely

You kept your hands anchored firmly on her hips, feeling the subtle tremor in her muscles as she tried and failed to keep still.

Alexia’s head tipped back again, one arm thrown over the back of the sofa, the other still tangled in your hair. The more she melted under your touch, the less she tried to guide you she was simply letting you set the pace, her breaths coming quicker, deeper.

Her thighs flexed around you once, twice, as if she couldn’t decide whether to pull you closer or push you away from the intensity. “Dios…” she whispered, her voice rough and low, and you felt the sound more than heard it.

You shifted your rhythm just slightly, enough to make her gasp, her back arching against the cushions. Your eyes flicked upward she was watching you now, her gaze intense, almost reverent.

“Stay… there,” she breathed, her accent thick, her tone a mix of plea and command.

You obliged, keeping your movements steady but unrelenting, and her hand slid from your hair to cradle the side of your head, not pushing, just holding you to her like she couldn’t bear the distance.

Her breathing quickened, her legs tensing on either side of you, and you knew she was right there, hovering. You gave her one last glance, and her expression eyebrows drawn, lips parted, every ounce of focus on you was all the encouragement you needed to push her over the edge. You pushed two fingers into her and her fingers tightened, her whole body curling in toward you, and you stayed with her through her orgasm, not letting go until her grip loosened and she slumped back, a faint, blissed out laugh escaping her lips.

When you finally pulled away, she was still catching her breath, eyes closed, smile tugging at her mouth. “You… not pillow princess,” she murmured without opening her eyes. “You… trouble.”

You grinned, brushing a kiss over her thigh before sitting back. “Told you.”

You stayed kneeling between her legs for a moment longer, then began pressing slow, lingering kisses up her skin over her stomach, the dip beneath her ribs, her breasts.

By the time you reached her collarbone, she’d opened her eyes again, still wearing that lazy post orgasm smile. You nuzzled in close, brushing your lips along her neck before murmuring against her ear, your voice low and teasing, as you rebound your place straddling her hips.

“Next time…” you paused, letting your mouth wander to her jaw, “you’re wearing the strap.”

Her brows lifted, a mix of surprise and intrigue in her expression. “Mm?” she hummed, fingers curling lightly at your waist.

You gave her a small, wicked smile. “I’m desperate to ride you, capi”

Her cheeks flushed not shy exactly, but you could see her pulse pick up as she laughed softly, shaking her head. “You… will like that?”

You kissed her again, slower this time, and felt her smile against your lips. “Si, would you?”

Her answer was a quiet, “Sí,” You shifted in her lap until your knees were either side of her hips, your hands braced on her shoulders. Alexia’s palms immediately found their way to your backside, cupping you firmly as if she’d been waiting for an excuse.

The kiss started slow, lazy, both of you still basking in the afterglow, but it didn’t take long for it to deepen. Her lips parted under yours, and your tongues brushed, drawing a soft hum from her chest.

Her fingers flexed against you, a mix of fondness and possession, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss when she gave you a gentle squeeze. She broke away just enough to murmur, “Perfect…” in that low, accented voice, before pulling you back in.

You giggled softly against her mouth, but she didn’t let you get far one hand sliding higher on your back, the other staying firmly planted where it was, keeping you close.

The heat between you built again, not rushed, just the comfortable kind that came from knowing neither of you wanted to be anywhere else.

Neither of you had any idea of the time or how long you were lost sexually in each other, and you weren't quite sure how you both managed it but there wasn't a surface or piece of furniture in that living room that morning you both didn't have an orgasm on.

#ONGONGOMGKWNCIWKHCOWW #ahhhhhhh <3 #soft fluff and soft smut and soft thighs and soft -#i loved every bit of this.#now that’s what i call love!#now that’s what i call horny!#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #rpf x reader

590 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 17 days ago

Note

Plz do more of angela IL DO ANYTHING PLZ AND ILL TAKE ANYTHING

angela giarratana x reader headcanons

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

a/n: ask and you shall receive, here are full length angela headcanons!! I’ve included the original headcanons from the ‘smosh women headcanons’ in this post as well and I put them at the beginning in italics!! also amanda x reader is coming soon!! tysm for the request 🩰🍒

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dating angela would include…

you guys take turns picking movies and shows to watch and get really into them

she loves your sense of humor so much

and you guys definitely make each other laugh at inappropriate times

she lets you borrow anything of hers you want

so much teasing

you guys do karaoke together

she sits in your lap all the time

you guys go to the theater together and she whispers to you throughout the whole thing

you guys get a dog

she thinks you’re crazy talented and loves listening to you talk about what you’re passionate about

ok so backstory when you became a cast member at smosh

you and her became friends really quickly

she found herself falling for you

she definitely confided in amanda and chanse for advice on what to do

and she finally decided to ask you out

and you two started dating

she gets really close with all of your friends and they love her so much

makes you gifts

always playing with your hair

game nights with her are so fun

she gets super into it and you two as a team always win

she loves your smile so much

kisses your nose

she definitely tried to cook for you one time

and almost burned the place down

but you guys laughed as you ate the burnt meal

and she pretended like it was totally supposed to be like that all along

‘see, it’s hot like you!’

little spoon

she calls you babe

she mentions you in smosh videos whenever she possibly can

she definitely danced in the rain with you once

‘wait how much money would you pay me to stand up on this table and scream that at the top of my lungs right now?’

texts you voice messages more than actual text messages

when she has something to say to you or just to tell you she loves you

she just cares about you so much and you couldn’t be happier together <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this!! like i said amanda headcanons coming soon and let me know if you want any other smosh content! have a lovely day/night !! 💋💌

#le sigh #perfect. manifesting #angela giarratana x reader #rpf x reader #fic rec

181 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 17 days ago

Note

I loved the angela giarratana x reader headcanons you did i hope it’s not too much for me to ask if you can do a full on story if you can’t that’s fine I understand if you need an ideal what about reader getting really close to someone from smosh and Angela miss reading it think reader liked them or something plz 😊😊😊😊

Misread Signs || Angela Giarratana x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: oneshot where you start to become really close with courtney, and angela takes this as a sign that you aren’t interested in her, until unusual circumstances cause you both to realize each other’s feelings

word count: 2.2k

warnings: none

a/n: thank you so much for this request babe, i love angela so much and i was so happy to write for her!! hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy this <3🍓🎀

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, (Y/n)!”

Courtney greeted you as you fell into step beside her. You had been called to set earlier than, in your opinion, was natural for any human being to be awake. Courtney however was as bubbly as ever. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, smiling at her enthusiasm.

“Hi, Court.” You had only been friends with Courtney for a few weeks, ever since you had moved from Smosh editor to cast member and she’d taken you under her wing, but it felt like you had known her for much longer.

You plopped down in the first chair you found, waiting for the rest of the cast to arrive. Courtney sat down next to you, pulling out her phone as you two began talking about what shoots were scheduled for the day, starting with TNTL.

A motion to your right caught your eye and you looked up.

“Angela!” Courtney exclaimed.

Angela set her bag down and looked over at you and Courtney, smiling, coffee in hand.

“Hey guys, how are we today?”

Was it too much to hope that one of these times she would look only at you? Ask how you were doing? You let out a small sigh and Courtney gave you a sympathetic look.

It felt like ever since you started working at Smosh you had been chasing Angela’s attention. Hoping she would notice you. Finding excuses to talk to her. Striking up conversation with her in hopes that one day she would miraculously ask you out. She hadn’t.

Yet.

But you were starting to loose hope that you would ever become anything more than…acquaintances? You liked to think you’d started to become friends. That she liked you. But it had been hard to constantly see her act the same around everyone else as she did with you.

And then when you became a member of the cast, you and Courtney had started to become close. She listened to you vent for hours about getting nowhere with Angela and you enjoyed her friendship.

Now, she grabbed your wrist, bringing you back to the present.

“(Y/n), you good?” She looked at you knowingly.

You shook the wistful look off your face and said, “Yeah, I’m ok. It’s nothing new.”

Your friend put a hand on your shoulder, “Hey, I don’t know. I still have faith in you two.” She gestured between you and Angela. “I mean you’re both gorgeous, so why hasn’t one of you asked the other one out?”

You batted her hand away quickly, cringing at her obviousness but laughing despite yourself.

“See, there’s the (Y/n) I know and love,” she bumped her shoulder into yours gently.

“Thanks Court,” you smiled at her.

Risking a glance at Angela, you saw she was now in the middle of a conversation with Shayne, laughing at one of his jokes—lucky bastard— and gesturing animatedly. As if she sensed you looking however, she glanced over at you and Courtney, a thoughtful expression appearing on her face before she smiled and turned back to Shayne and the few other people who had started to gather near them.

“Ooh, stolen glances!” Courtney sing-songed.

By then, most of the cast had now arrived and you heard someone shout, “Quiet on set,” and then, “could someone please grab the boxes labeled ‘new props’ from the storage room?’”

“I’ll do it,” Angela called out enthusiastically, “Anyone want to come with?”

Always offering to help. It was yet another one of the reasons you liked her so much.

“(Y/n) will!” Courtney volunteered. You shot her a look and she gave you a mischievous one back.

“Ok, great!” Angela said as you walked over towards her, simultaneously cursing and thanking Courtney in your head.

The silence was deafening. For all of about 12 seconds before Angela broke it, saying, “So, you ready for today? Early call time today, I know you hate mornings!”

You nodded, but it caught you off guard that she would have remembered such a small detail about you. You figured you must have mentioned it at some point.

“Ok, help me out. I’ve worked here for a year now and I still don’t know to get to the storage room.” She laughed and you laughed with her.

“Down this hallway on the left,” you pointed ahead of you. You’d been working here a few months less than Angela but you felt like you pretty much knew your way around the place. You stopped in front of your destination and opened the door, stepping into a room full of bins of colorful props and costumes

“This reminds me,” Angela started, picking up a feather boa, “Hear me out, I have this idea for a bit.”

She picked up the boa and draped it around her shoulders, grabbing a nurse’s hat and leaning dramatically against the door, pushing it shut. “A dental hygienist who should’ve been on broadway!”

You laughed as she began singing off-key showtunes.

“Brava!”

“Alright, we’d better get back,” she said, still keeping the boa on her shoulders.

You both grabbed a bin and you went to push the door open but it wouldn’t budge. You put the box you were holding down and jiggled the handle with more force.

“Uh, Angela? We might have a problem,” you said.

You both inspected the door, and when it was decided that you were in fact stuck, you sat down on a box and Angela followed.

“Ok, we can figure this out,” you said. “Do you have your phone?”

She shook her head. “Left it in my bag. You?”

“Left it with Courtney.”

Angela nodded, but looked down. After a moment she said, with a hint of a smile on her face, “Well, that only leaves one option.”

She got up quickly and began banging her fist on the door, shouting. “Hey! Hello? Can anyone hear us? We’re kinda trapped in here!”

You joined her. After a few minutes though, you realized your efforts were fruitless and you both stopped, sitting back down again.

“Well, seeing as we’re stuck in here for the foreseeable future,” Angela started, “wanna play a game or something?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, I spy, with my little eye, something blue,” she said.

“The pool noodle?”

“Dang it! That was supposed to take longer,” she threw the boa at you. You picked up the thing nearest to you—a stuffed frog—and threw it at her, draping her boa around your shoulders and posing dramatically as she had. It smelled like her, and your heart fluttered.

You enjoyed this, you couldn’t help but admit to yourself. You hadn’t actually talked to Angela in weeks. It was nice to have an excuse to spend time with her. Even if it was a bit awkward, and you were sweating, and locked in a storage closet for who knows how long. You looked at her and tried not to stare at her eyes, and how the lighting in the room made them sparkle.

An awkward silence descended, and you began pulling feathers off of the boa to pass the time. The seconds ticked by.

“Ok, it’s been like 10 minutes now. They cannot start tntl without us because then who’ll see my broadway dentist bit?” Angela stood up.

“Well, I saw it, and I loved it, for what it’s worth. And I’m sure someone will come looking for us soon. Courtney has my phone and my coffee so she’ll realize when she sees them, right?”

Angela sat back down and you began inspecting your shoes.

“So, you and Court, huh?” You looked up and found Angela watching you intently, waiting for an answer. She began pulling at a loose thread on her sweatshirt.

“What?”

“I just, figured you two were a thing. I mean you spend so much time together and it just seemed like…”

Again, what? You blinked. “Um, no, Courtney and I are friends but—”

“Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed,” she interrupted, “I just—you guys seem really close.”

“No, it’s ok,” you assured her, “I’m just a single pringle.” You internally slapped yourself. Why, why were you like this?

“Same!” She gave you a high five. You internally groaned. Why, why was she like this?

“So,” she continued, “got your eye on somebody else then?”

“Oh, I don’t know l—” you started.

“C’mon,” she nudged your shoe with hers, “we never catch up anymore!”

Because we’re both busy. Because we didn’t make an effort. Because I didn’t think you felt the same way about me as I felt about you.

Instead, you just sighed. You did not want to have this conversation with her, especially when you didn’t exactly want to tell her the answer. But the opportunity to talk with her was too inviting. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?

“There might be…someone?” You didn’t want to give her any more information than that. You couldn’t.

“I knew it!” She shrieked. “So, who are they?”

“Well, they’re beautiful and talented and funny…”

“Sounds like a real catch!”

Yes, you do. “Well, what about you?” You asked, “Doesn’t seem fair that you’re the only one asking the questions,” you smiled.

She raised up her arms in defeat, “Ok, caught me! There is someone.”

Great, You thought. Just my luck.

“Well, anyone would be lucky to be with you,” you told her.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Angela answered you, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

She leaned in for a hug, and you hugged her back, savoring this moment—even if she was telling you about someone else that she had feelings for.

Suddenly, the door to the storage room opened and a worried Courtney, followed by Shayne appeared.

“Angela, (Y/n), you’re here!” Courtney said.

“Yeah, we sort of got locked in,” Angela answered her.

“We were getting worried—and waiting on you,” Shayne teased, and then looked between the two of you, pulling back from your embrace. “Oh, good you finally told (Y/n) how you feel! See, told you it’d go well!”

You narrowed your eyes at Shayne, “What?”

The look of panic on Shayne’s face was nothing compared to that of Angela’s.

You turned to her, “What’s he talking about?”

Courtney jumped in, “Shayne and I should be getting back to set. We’ll see you there.” She looked at her friend pointedly.

“Right,” Shayne ran a hand through his hair, “glad you guys are ok, we’ll just be—” he pointed in front of him towards the hallway and, picking up a box of props, left with Courtney.

“I’m going to kill him,” Angela clenched her fist.

“Well,” you prompted.

“Right, um…” Angela paused. You had never seen her speechless before. She seemed at a loss for words and it shocked you to see her this way and not her usual outgoing, confident self.

“So,” she continued, “what Shayne was referring to was, um, well I told him earlier that I—Ok, just gonna rip off the bandage… I may or may not have a teeny, tiny, crush on you.”

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. Angela what? This whole time you had just assumed she didn’t return your feelings.

“Say something?” She prompted

“When?” Was all you managed.

“A while…”

You couldn’t breathe. Then something clicked. “And when you were talking about liking someone just a second ago…”

“Bingo,” she gave you a wry smile, “you the whole time. Surprise!”

“I don’t know what to say, I—”

“It’s ok, I don’t expect—anything, I—well this isn’t exactly how I planned on having this conversation but,” she threw her hands up, “now you know!”

“Angela I—”

“I was planning on asking you out sometime, I really was. But then I saw how close you were getting with Courtney and I thought—I don’t know.”

“Courtney and I are nothing more than friends. She’s like a sister to me. In fact, most of our friendship was spent talking about you,” you admitted.

Now it was Angela’s turn to be confused. “What?”

You didn’t know what got into you then. Maybe it was the time you’d spent on the storage room. Or maybe it was knowing Angela liked you and seeing the way she was looking at you right now. But, one way or another, you figured now was a good a time as any.

“I like you too…a lot, actually. I have ever since you started working here and I never told you because I never imagined you could feel the same way and I just think you’re so beautiful and talented and smart and—”

You never got to finish that sentence because suddenly Angela was kissing you, and you were kissing her back. She put her arms around your back, pulling you close, and you put your hands in her hair. You almost forgot about where you were or that you were needed on set. Almost.

“Shouldn’t we get back?” you pulled away and lifted a thumb towards the door. “They’re probably waiting for us.”

“They’ve waited this long for us, what’s another minute or two.” She joked.

She smiled and then she was kissing you again, more passionately this time. You let all of your other thoughts go, enjoying the moment.

And it was perfect.

Just you, and Angela, and a closet full of fake limbs, animal onesies, and giant hats with googly eyes. You felt like you’d been waiting for this moment for months.

And maybe, she had too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this!! let me know if you have any other smosh requests!! 🍒🪩

#oh meh gawd 😭 💓#angela giarratana x reader #rpf x reader #fic rec

333 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 17 days ago

Note

so I know you like just did a Angela x reader one shot and IM SO SORRY LIKE SO SORRY BUT COULD YOU DO ANOTHER ONE can it be like a really sad on like a realllllllllllllllllllllllly sad like I’m saying reallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllly sad if you could 😭 pls thanks bae and if you need some ideas I got you so what if reader like was in love with Angela but we found out she was going out with someone but we didn’t know it was like only for like two days and didn’t really like them and so we started to distance ourselves from her and it got so bad to where we stopped showing up for try not to laugh or eat it or yeet it to the point where we asked to be a editor or something off screen and that’s all I can think off but have a lil fluff at the end please thanks bae love you have a great morning afternoon or night too❤️❤️❤️❤️

Love Hurts || Angela Giarratana x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ summary: oneshot where you have been in love with angela for months and upon finding out that she is dating someone else, heartbroken, you start to distance yourself from her and everything else in your life

word count: 3.9k

warnings: angst

a/n: i hope you enjoy this love!! i tried to make it sad enough for u, i hope i succeeded 💋 also, since i wrote most of this while listening to taylor swift, i think this is very much i can see you, gold rush, labyrinth, and lover coded in that order!! also i have a smosh masterlist now so you can find everything there 🎀🍓

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You took a deep breath.

Today was the day. The day you were finally going to ask Angela Giarratana, your cast-mate at Smosh and crush of the past three months who was maybe, possibly the love of your life, out.

Ever since you’d started working at Smosh, you’d been drawn to Angela and her beautiful smile and charming, exuberant personality. After months of admiring her in secret, you finally decided to make a move.

You liked to think you two were getting closer. Talking more and more and quickly becoming good friends. You couldn’t be sure how she felt, but you had to take a chance

It was now or never.

You turned a corner, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets as you walked swiftly down the hallway.

What’s the worst that could happen? You thought. She could say no. Humiliate you. You could ruin your friendship.

Internal monologue, not helping, You thought.

Shaking the ideas from your head, you tried to focus on something else. You had to be confident. And your own doubtful thought weren’t doing you any favors.

You rounded the next corner, seeing Angela and Chanse in the middle of a conversation several feet away.

“Tell me everything!” You heard Chanse say.

Angela tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a movement you had observed many times. “There isn’t much to tell!”

She turned her head, catching sight of you standing there and smiling at you.

“Oh, (Y/n), hey!”

“Hi, uh,” you started, “I was just going to—can I talk to you for a second?”

No turning back now.

She walked towards you, “Of course.”

“I’ll catch you later,” Chanse said, “ when you will finish telling me about last night.”

You looked inquisitively at Angela.

She rolled her eyes at Chanse, waving him off, and told you, “Just this date I had last night. So what is it you wanted to talk about?”

You felt like you’d been punched in the stomach. “What?”

“Oh, it’s just this person I’ve been seeing, and Chanse wants to hear every a run-down of every date and every detail of our relationship.”

This couldn’t be happening. You tried to say something else, but couldn’t find the right words to say.

Finally, Angela spoke up, “So you wanted to tell me something?”

“Um, yeah I just, wanted to say that—I have the schedule for tomorrow if you want to see it. I know you don’t check your email often and so I printed out the schedule for you.” You finished, defeated.

“Oh,” Angela seemed mildly confused, “Ok, thanks! I’ll come by to get it from you later.”

“Great,” you said, trying to smile. Trying not to show your disappointment. Trying to take even breaths and get out of there.

“Hey, are you okay?” Angela said, “you seem like something’s on your mind.”

You. “Nope, everything’s fine,” you got out, “I’ll catch you later.”

And before she could respond, you turned and speed-walked away from Angela and your conversation.

Once you were a good distance away, you let yourself deflate.

Despite yourself, tears started to cloud your vision as you made it to the first door you came upon—which happened to be the bathroom—and you shut yourself in, leaning against the door and letting yourself cry.

Stupid. Irrational. You told yourself. Angela had the right to date whoever she wanted. You hadn’t even asked her out yet. But a part of you had thought she’d say yes. That she’d felt the same way about you all this time as you’d felt about her. That you hadn’t been in love with her for months only to have it come to an end like this. And to top it all off, you remembered, now you had to print out your schedule for tomorrow to give to Angela, successfully backing up your lie.

You pressed your palms into your eyes and willed the tears to stop.

You heard footsteps outside, and quickly ran into a stall, locking the door. You honestly weren’t sure if you were in a men’s or women’s restroom, but either way you didn’t want anyone to see you like this and have to explain what was going on.

You waited until you heard whoever was in there with you go in and out before stepping out of the stall, rushing to the door, and quickly stepping back into the hallway. You knew you had to film Eat it or Yeet it in a few minutes. But you didn’t know how you could bring yourself to face Angela again—just thinking about your last conversation made you sick.

Reluctantly, you made your way back to set and scanned the room, trying not to look like you’d been crying. You saw Courtney in conversation with one of the crew members, Damien and Shayne laughing at a joke one of them had just made, and Amanda taking a sip of her coffee.

No sign of Angela. Yet.

You looked over just in time to see Amanda walking over to you.

“What’s up, (Y/n)?”

“Uh, nothing much.”

“Have you seen Angela?” Amanda asked you when you didn’t elaborate, “She should be on set.”

“No, I haven’t,” you lied. You couldn’t deal with reliving the past few minutes right now.

As if on cue, Angela walked into the room. “Hey guys! Sorry I’m late,” She called out.

You looked up at her, but looked away quickly.

“Angela!” Courtney called out, rushing over, “Chanse tells me you’ve been seeing someone behind our backs? Spill!”

You dug your fingernails into your leg.

“I haven’t been doing anything behind your backs,” Angela said, grinning, “and yes I’ve been seeing someone but—”

Just then you all got called to start the show and the conversation dissolved.

“Well, we all want to hear about it later, right (Y/n)?” Courtney looked to you for help.

“Um, I—”

You were saved from responding by Angela exclaiming, “I’ll tell you later, I promise!”

It was going to be a long day.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

“(Y/n), are you ok?”

You spun around, coming face to face with Angela.

“What?”

“You just seemed…distant during Eat it or Yeet it.”

Distant was one term for it. Living a nightmare was another.

You had struggled to make it through the episode, sitting next to Angela and trying not to notice—willing your heart not to race—every time your shoulders brushed or she looked at you. You tried to tell yourself this shouldn’t feel any different—you were still friends and you still loved her in secret.

That much hadn’t changed, You thought wryly.

Except that you knew she was seeing someone else.

You squeezed your eyes shut before answering Angela, attempting an ‘I’m fine’ look.

“I’m just tired.”

“Alright, well, I’ll see you later to get that schedule…”

Shoot, that’s right.

“Sounds like a plan,” was all you said.

“Great!” She leaned in for a hug and you hugged her back, unable to not notice how her hair smelled like mango and flower blossoms.

Curse her, You thought, curse her and her perfectly shampooed hair.

After a moment, you watched her walk away, thinking it was going to be nearly impossible to make it through the rest of the week. You’d just have to go on pretending. Act supportive of Angela and her partner. Act like nothing was wrong. Act like you weren’t a mess inside.

Act like you weren’t in love with Angela

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

The rest of the week went about as well as you thought it would.

You’d spent the whole time practically avoiding Angela. Turning the other way if you saw her coming. Making up excuses to get out of conversations she was a part of. Keeping your answers short.

Everything was a reminder.

Shoots were harder. When you had to act like everything was fine in videos and put on a smiling face for Angela and the public.

You didn’t want to distance yourself from her. But it was hard to be around her when all that ran through your head when you saw her was She doesn’t love you and she never will.

Your other cast mates had started to notice you acting differently, if the “are you ok?”s and the “are you sure you don’t need anything?”s were any indication. You appreciated their concern, you really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell any of them the real reason for your distraught state. Still, the worried questions kept rolling in. From everyone but Angela, because you never stayed around her quite long enough to let her inquire.

“(Y/n), did you hear me?” A voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you looked up, out of your daze, quickly.

“Sorry Damien, what were you saying?”

He looked at you with a frown, “It’s ok, I was just asking if you—”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Angela walking into the room and headed in your general direction.

You stood up quickly. “I have to go, I’m sorry.”

Picking up your bag, you fled the room, leaving Damien standing there, mid-sentence.

“(Y/n), wait!” You heard someone call you.

You kept walking, hoping you could pretend you didn’t hear the voice you knew had just said your name.

Angela.

Eventually, she caught up to you and you were forced to spin around.

“Ok, I don’t know what’s up, or why you’ve been avoiding me all week…”

She trailed off, waiting you to explain, and when you didn’t she kept going.

“Did I do something?” She looked at you expectantly.

“I—no, you did absolutely nothing, I mean I haven’t—”

“If I offended you in any way, I’m sorry,” she said. “And I’m also worried about you, you haven’t seemed your self lately at all.”

You sighed. “No, it’s nothing like that, I’m just really busy and I—I have to go.”

You turned the other way and kept walking, not looking back to see the concerned expression on Angela’s face.

Great. Just great. On top of it all, now Angela thought you were mad at her.

If she only knew that couldn’t be farther from the truth, you thought.

You turned a corner and almost ran right into Shayne, heading in the opposite direction.

“Hey, (Y/n), didn’t see you there! You ready for TNTL. I’ve got this awesome new bit—ok, imagine a shark goes to medical school…”

You didn’t hear the rest of that sentence. You’d completely forgotten there was another shoot today. You internally groaned. You’d much rather go home, sit in your pajamas, and enjoy your much-anticipated date with ice cream and Pride and Prejudice.

“…and anyways obviously the cheesecake can’t be eaten, which is why the whole place explodes. What do you think?”

“Um, sounds great,” you said, having missed half of what he said. You continued to walk with him to the set of TNTL. When you got there, an animated conversation was already taking place.

“I did not say it like that!” Angela was saying

“Sounded like it to me,” Courtney said.

“Totally said it like the heart-eyes emoji,” Damien agreed, imitating the face.

“No,” Angela corrected, “all I said was that Alex was coming to guest star on Try Not To Laugh. Do you hear any heart eyes?”

“No, no heart eyes. Just Alex, my true love, my one and only, the fire of my loins—” Amanda went on but you couldn’t listen to any more.

No. This couldn’t be happening. The person Angela was dating couldn’t not be coming here. Now.

You couldn’t do the show. You turned to Shayne, “I forgot something, I’m going to go back really quick.”

No one else had seen you yet. You rushed away from the set, opening the first door you found—a storage room—and sat down on a box, burying your face in your hands. Could this week get any worse?

And you were crying again. For the—honestly you’d stopped counting how many times since the day.

You felt really bad skipping a shoot like that. This was your job! But you couldn’t bear to see Angela with the person she’d been going out with.

Hearing about it was one thing. But actually seeing them acting like a couple in front of you—you might actually be sick.

You had to figure something out. You couldn’t stay in this room forever. You couldn’t keep ditching shows, and moping around, and avoiding Angela for the rest of

your life. As much as you’d like to.

You didn’t know how long you sat there in that closet, letting the tears fall as you contemplated your situation. Finally, when you figured someone would probably start looking for you soon, you got up, wiping the tears from your face, and opened the door.

You didn’t know where to go from there.

You were contemplating this when suddenly you heard a noise and, turning around, were met with at least half a dozen faces staring at you from down the hall. You noticed Angela among them.

“(Y/n)!”

“We’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Where have you been?”

“You never showed up for TNTL, what’s wrong?”

“What we’re you doing in there?”

Never showed up for TNTL. That meant you must have been in that closet for much longer than you thought.

You didn’t know who’s question to answer first. Or how to answer any of them.

Completely overwhelmed, you did the only logical thing.

You ran.

Ok, maybe it wasn’t the only logical thing. But as you dashed towards the back door and your waiting car in the lot, you decided it was worth it. You’d come up with an excuse later, even though it would be hard.

But if it meant not having to face Angela today, then skipping one TNTL shoot wasn’t that big of a deal.

Right?

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

It wasn’t long before one turned into every show Angela was in.

The first time you’d blamed it on food poisoning. But by the eighth or ninth you were running out of excuses. Once you skipped one shoot, it became easier to do it again and a lot harder to work up the nerve to be that close to Angela with things the way they were.

You knew you shouldn’t be skipping, but the idea had just become so tempting. It wasn’t that you wanted to, it was more that you physically couldn’t bring yourself to show up.

You contemplated these things as you sat across from Ian Hecox, your boss, waiting for him to say something.

“(Y/n), I think you know why I need to talk to you. You’ve missed…a lot of filming. It’s becoming a problem.”

Your knew that. Which is why you had come to a decision about what to do.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was thinking…I don’t think I want to be a part of the cast anymore.”

You let that sink in. It killed you. You loved your job and what you did. This decision didn’t come lightly. But for your mental state, it had to be done. Besides, you were probably going to get fired anyway if you missed any more work.

You continued, “I have loved being a part of the cast here and If there’s any way it could work, I’d like to apply to be an editor. I think I have the credentials to do it and I feel like it would be best for me.”

Ian contemplated you, “Well, I don’t know what’s brought on this sudden change but if you think it’s best, I can probably make something work. We do want to keep you around, you know. I know everyone’s worried about you.”

You swallowed hard. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Can I?” You motioned to the door behind you.

“Go ahead.” Ian smiled at you.

You rushed out of the office and shut the door behind you, leaning against the wall.

You couldn’t believe you just did that. You’d worked so hard to get where you were. And now, there you were, throwing away your entire career. You steeled yourself. You made this decision, and you were going to stick with it.

“So, editor, huh?”

How had you not noticed Angela standing on the other side of the office door?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just waiting to talk to Ian and I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said, sheepishly.

“Yeah, I uh, I just think it’s best,” you told her, trying to stay composed. But something about the decision you’d made mixed with Angela standing in front of you looking all warmhearted and beautiful made something inside you break. You couldn’t stop the tears from threatening to pour out and so you turned away.

“Hey,” Angela said, catching your arm, “what’s up?”

“It’s nothing,” you attempted.

“It’s not nothing, you’ve been acting weird these past few weeks and I want to know what’s going on.”

You tried to respond, you really did, but the tears were falling harder now and you couldn’t make out a response.

“(Y/n), come here,” she led you to a chair and crouched down in front of you. “What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t possibly begin to tell her. “I—I can’t.”

“(Y/n), I’m your friend and I care about you, you can tell me anything.”

She was looking at you so intently now. So intently you almost told her everything.

How you had been devastated and heartbroken when you found out she was with someone else. How you couldn’t be around her without wanting to cry when you knew she’d never feel the same way about you as you did about her. How you’d began to distance yourself from everything and everyone around you. How you had basically ruined your career over all of it.

How she could quite possibly be the love of your life, even still.

As you stared into her warm, brown eyes and thought, What if I could?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For ignoring you and…and avoiding you.”

“I knew it! I told Shayne I knew you were avoiding me, and I was right! Dude owes me five bucks,” she looked down sheepishly, “but not the time, I get it.”

You almost smiled. That was what Angela did. She made people feel better by making them smile, making them laugh.

You swiped at your cheek with the sleeve of your sweater. “I’m sorry also for not telling you why I was avoiding you. I promise I was never mad.”

She waved it off, “I get it, I’m loud.” She shrugged, smiling.

“No, no that’s not why. I—it’s just—I can’t tell you.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to—I just want to make sure you’re ok,” she gently rubbed your arm. You leaned into her touch.

You took a deep breath. Sitting here crying in front of Angela while she consoled you, a thought ran through your head. A crazy one, but a thought still.

What did you have to lose?

“You Angela, It’s you.”

“Me?”

“I know you don’t know this, but the day I heard you said you were involved with someone I was—”

You looked up at Angela, awaiting the rest of your sentence. You could do this.

You continued. “I was on my way to ask you out and—and I know it shouldn’t have mattered to me that you were seeing someone but I couldn’t bear to picture you with someone else and after I knew it was just hard to see you when everything was a—reminder and so that, that’s why I avoided you and stopped showing up to set and I just, I was a mess—I’m still a mess and—”

You broke off as your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt Angela wrap her arms around you, rubbing your back. You rested your head on her shoulder, letting all the things you’d felt and kept in for the past few weeks out.

You lifted your head, sniffing. “Sorry, I’m probably ruining your shirt.”

“Don’t be, it’s Courtney’s anyway. Don’t tell her,” she added.

You laughed, the first real laugh in many days.

As wonderful as this moment was, you remembered what the conversation was about and the fact that Angela was dating someone.

“I didn’t mean to tell you any of this, ever.

I know you’re in a relationship and I don’t mean at all to—impose or anything—”

“(Y/n), stop—Alex and I aren’t dating anymore. We haven’t been for weeks.”

What? “But—”

“When you heard me talking to Chanse that day? Well we broke up that night. To be honest, I didn’t even want to go on a second date let alone a fourth but,” she threw her hands in the air, making a face.

Your couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was she saying that this whole time, she hadn’t even been seeing anyone? But—

“You invited Alex to TNTL, I just thought…”

“Alex is an aspiring comedian, I was just helping out.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself. “Wow, sure makes me look stupid, huh?”

“Hey, you’re not stupid (Y/n), ok?” she tilted your chin toward her. “You know that right?”

You nodded, but looked away quickly.

“(Y/n), I just, I had no idea,” she shook her head. “How you felt this whole time and all that you’ve been through recently…”

“I guess I’ve effectively ruined our friendship now, haven’t I?” You awkwardly wiped the rest of the tears from your face.

Angela looked at you, really looked at you as if she was contemplating something. You remembered all over again how easy it was to get lost in her eyes.

She leaned forward, until you were inches apart.

“Well, I’m glad,” she said, her voice quiet, “because if you’ve already ruined our friendship, then it can’t hurt to do this.”

She leaned in and kissed you softly. You kissed her back with the longing of months and she wrapped her arms around you. You did the same, savoring this moment.

Everything was a blur. You couldn’t believe mere moments ago you’d been certain that you and Angela could never be. You’d spent months in a depressed state, heartbreak turning into numbness and spiraling and a perpetual sadness. You’d confessed all of this to Angela and found out you’d been making assumptions this whole time.

And then you’d kissed her. Were kissing her. And it was everything you’d hoped it would be.

She pulled away, saying “And that’s a yes, (Y/n), I’d love to go out with you.”

You smiled at her, a real smile, and said, “I love you, Angela.”

“Love ya more,” she kissed you quickly and then jumped up, grabbing your hand.

“Now let’s go tell Ian that you want your job back.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you told her, grinning from ear to ear.

You looked down at Angela’s hand in yours. You looked at the way she was smiling at you, eager to fix your mistakes. You looked at all of the possibilities and all of the memories yet to be made and the love that could only grow.

And you were happy. For the first time in nearly a month, you were happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope this was what you wanted, happy to give you the smosh + angela content you deserve <3

#😭😭😭LOVD #LOVE #angela giarratana x reader #rpf x reader #fic rec

240 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 17 days ago

Note

i don’t think ur req are open but i’ve been dying thinking about this idea 😭 an angela x fem reader fic where they meet at the gym or are gym buddies!!! suuuuper fluffy bc angela is the best ever

Same Time Tomorrow || Angela Giarratana x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: you’ve been going to the same gym for a while now, crushing on the same girl who’s always there but never actually talking to her. that is, until the letters start appearing in your locker

word count: 2k

warnings: none

a/n: ahh it’s been a minute since i’ve written for angela, i love her so much. i kinda put a little twist on this and i hope you enjoy this!! also fem!reader!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You saw her immediately after you walked in.

Gym girl, you’d started calling her. You’d seen her the past seven times you’d been to this gym. Sometimes she was already working out when you arrived, sometimes she she got there just as you were heading home.

You’d said nothing more to each other than the occasional ‘what’s up’ or ‘hey can I use those 20s when you’re done with them?’ or ‘mornings am i right’

But you’d remembered every interaction you’d had with her.

She had short, brown hair and always wore the same baseball cap and white tank top almost every time you’d seen her.

Now though, as you watched her on the elliptical, you saw that she wore a light blue zip-up hoodie overtop it.

You stepped up onto the treadmill, your back facing her as you began your workout.

You’d started to come to the gym at the same time every day, knowing you’d see the woman if you did.

Okay, now that you said all of this to yourself in your head, it sounded mildly stalker-ish.

But you couldn’t help it, she was so gorgeous that you were drawn to her.

Every time you came here, you tried to think of something interesting to say to her. Something to start a conversation, more than just a couple words.

But what would you even say?

Hey, I think you’re really cute and I’ve been watching you work out for weeks, wanna go out sometime?

Gym girl suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision, getting on the treadmill next to you.

You turned to her, seeing she was already looking at you, and shot her a quick smile.

“So, you come here often?” She said, beginning to pick up the pace, now moving at a swift jog.

“Well, um,” you started, caught off guard. “I guess? I mean, I try to hit the gym every day if I can.”

“That was supposed to be a joke,” she grinned. “Y’know, cause we’re always here at the same time. Not my best material, I’ll admit.”

“No, it was good,” you chucked, giving her a reassuring smile. “Treadmill brain.”

“Real,” she agreed, before turning back to her machine.

You smoothed down you hair, suddenly aware of the hasty ponytail you had thrown your hair up in before you had left.

You bumped up the speed to 10mph, running faster now.

“So? You always go this fast?” The woman asked you, looking over at the screen on your treadmill.

“Oh, yeah,” you got out, lying through your teeth as you fought for breath. “I love running.”

“Well, props to you, cause I max out at 4,” she breathed.

“Well in that case,” you slowed down the speed of the treadmill. “So do I.”

You both burst out laughing.

You couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your face. This was the longest conversation you’d had with gym girl. It only took a week, but you were finally having a conversation with her.

And she was funny and charming and kind.

“What?” She looked at you quizzically.

“Nothing,” you covered. “It’s just, I always feel so much better when I’m at the gym. It’s relaxing.”

“I feel ya, sister,” Angela nodded her head. “It’s nice to get away from work and just focus.”

You braved asking her an actual question. “So, what do you do for work?”

“I’m in digital media,” she answered. “Entertainment. What about you?”

You told her what you did while you both ran, your legs in sync. She took off her sweater, throwing it to the side and revealing the white shirt she always wore.

You went on like this for many minutes, working out in silence, in each other’s company.

There were may other people in the gym, but you hardly noticed them. You were only focused on yourself and the woman next to you.

Finally, after an hour or so had passed, the woman stopped running and stepped off the treadmill, grabbing her sweatshirt and throwing it over her shoulder.

She ran a hand through her hair, looking towards you. “Well, I think I’m going to head out. I’ll see you later.”

“See ya,” you called to her as she walked away.

You realized you had never caught her name.

Your head was filled with thoughts of gym girl as you made your way to the locker room sometime later. You couldn’t wait to see her again. Not only because you thought she was the most attractive person you had ever seen, but also because you had enjoyed talking to her and you wanted to do it again.

You made your way to your own locker, passing the one you knew was her’s and opening the door.

As you did, a small slip of paper fell out. You picked it up off the floor.

Roses are red, violets are blue, I had an amazing time working out with you. —A

Your heart beat faster. Whoever had written this must’ve slipped it in one of the holes at the top of your locker.

You immediately thought of gym girl. Could it have been from her? You dared to hope, even though you tried to tell yourself there was no way it was from her.

Then again, you didn’t know her name. It could’ve started with an ‘A’.

You stood there for a moment, contemplating this, before you finished gathering your things and headed out of the building.

You couldn’t wait for tomorrow. You couldn’t wait to see her again.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Tomorrow ended up being kind of a bust.

The woman was there, but other than a quick ‘hey’ and an expectant look at you which you couldn’t decipher, she kept to herself and you didn’t cross paths.

You had looked forward to talking with her again. And also finding out if she was the one who’d left the note in your gym locker.

But, when she didn’t approach you, you gave up and left to go get changed.

You opened your locker to another note, this time catching it before it hit the ground.

Daisies are yellow, tulips are pink, you looked even cuter today than yesterday, i think. —A

You smiled at the rhyme. It was corny, but you got the feeling the author knew that, and that just made it even better. You thought it was sweet, that someone would go out of their way to do this for you.

And you couldn’t pretend you didn’t desperately hope that that someone was gym girl.

That was pretty much the thought that occupied your mind all week, 24/7, as you kept receiving the notes. You had collected six more of them, all rhyming, and had still yet to discover who actually was giving them to you.

After that one conversion you’d had with gym girl, you’d yet to talk again. You had tried to make yourself go talk to her multiple times, but she always looked busy or uninterested and you always got in your own head about it.

What if she wasn’t the one writing you the notes? Just because it made sense, didn’t mean it was the case.

It didn’t look like you were going to get an answer to that question anytime soon.

Until finally, one Friday, as you went to put your stuff in your locker before you started your workout, you saw her.

Gym girl. She was walking towards her locker, looking like she was in a rush.

You quickly stepped behind a pillar, safely out of sight.

You watched her set her own stuff down, before hurrying over to your locker. You held your breath. You watched as she pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket, and slipped it into your locker.

Your heart soared. So it was her! You were beginning to worry that it was just some gym creep!

She began to walk in your direction, and you hurried into a bathroom stall a few feet away, letting her pass.

Once you were sure she had exited the locker room, you left your hiding spot.

You set your stuff in your own locker, stopping to read her note.

Lemons are sour, so is the lime, I’d really like to go out with you sometime. —A

You held the scrap of paper to your chest. Now that you knew for sure that it was her who was writing these, you let yourself get all giddy.

She wanted to go out with you! She thought you were cute!

You walked towards the exit door, feeling more confident and sure than you had before. You were going to walk up to gym girl and talk to her. Maybe even ask her out.

You were about to walk out the door when you realized you were will wearing the pajama pants you had worn there.

Right after you changed!

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

You spotted her instantly amongst the dozens of other people working out. She seemed to stand out, but maybe that was just because you were looking.

“Hey,” you approached her, sitting down on the weight bench next to hers.

“Sup,” She looked up at you, a question in her eyes. She had a light sheen of sweat on her bare arms and you had the sudden urge to rub your hands all over her.

Focus! You told yourself.

“Hey, can you help me with something?” You asked her, your heart racing.

“Need me to spot you?” She asked.

“No, not exactly,” you answered.

“Good, cause I don’t know what that means,” she shrugged. “What do you need?”

“Well,” you started. “There’s this song that’s stuck in my head—and has been for days—but I can’t figure out what it is. I was wondering if you might know.”

“Shoot. I’m a walking Shazam,” the woman rested her chin in her hand.

“It goes a little something like this,” you said, pretending to think. “Roses are red. Violets are blue…”

You watched as her eyes widened, searching yours for a sign.

“…and then something about working out and a cute lemon?” You finished.

“I don’t know if I know that one,” Angela breathed.

You shrugged. “Probably just some cheesy rhyme I heard somewhere,”

“Hey!” She smiled. “I put—I mean, whoever wrote that, probably put a lot of time and thought into it.”

You giggled. “Shakespeare would be proud.”

“How long did you know it was me?” She asked you.

“Not until today,” you answered honestly. “But I’d kinda hoped.”

Her eyes snapped up to yours.

“But then I thought, there’s no way the girl I’ve been too scared to talk to cause she’s so cute, is the same one who’s been writing me love poems,” you finished.

The girl smiled, “I kinda figured I was being really obvious. When you never said anything, I thought maybe you thought they were lame—I mean, you were so cool and pretty and can run a lot faster than me.”

You shook your head. How could this woman, who was so gorgeous and charming and perfect, have been worried that you wouldn’t like her?

“I can’t run that fast,” you teased her. “I was just trying to impress you, remember?”

“Oh yeah? Well, maybe we could go running together sometime and you can prove it to me.”

She paused.

“And by running, I mean like a coffee shop or something.”

You booth laughed and you nodded. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“It’s a date then,” she said, standing up and letting your shoulders brush as she walked past you.

You couldn’t believe it. Gym girl thought you were pretty. You were going on a date with her. Which reminded you…

“I never did catch your name,” you called to her, as she began walking away.

She turned around. “Angela. It’s Angela.”

“I’m (Y/n).”

“Well (Y/n), I’ll see you around,” she said, winking at you as she walked backwards.

“Same time tomorrow?” You called.

She grinned. “Same time tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this lovelies!! have the best of days 💘

#🙂‍↕️#angela giarratana x reader #gym crushes are crazzyyyyyy #like why #why do you do this to me #rpf x reader #fic rec

215 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 17 days ago

Text

My Capitana (Part 1)

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Femme!Reader

Summary: When Alexia Putellas was just a shy, messy-haired seven-year-old at Sabadell, she used to wait after practice for her dad — and for her captain. You, at twelve, were fast, brilliant, already a quiet leader — the American expat kid who always passed to her first. She followed you around like a shadow. Your teammates teased. You brushed it off: “She’s too young to know what a crush is.” Then, one day, you vanished. No goodbye — just a scribbled note with a number that would never work. Decades later, you meet again.

Featuring: Vicky Losada, Mapi Leon, Patri Guijarro, Jana Fernandez (side note: can’t believe she’s heading to LCL 😣) & Ona Battle.

Word count: ~ 25k

A/N: Turns out it’s too long to post the entire fic in a single post. So, look out for Part 2 sometime tomorrow.

————————————————————————

CE Sabadell Training Ground, 2001

The ball skidded across the pitch like it had somewhere better to be.

Y/N didn’t chase it. She didn’t need to. Her first touch was already good enough to draw a whistle from the coach — short and sharp — the kind that meant, “Again, but slower.”

Twelve years old and already playing like she had something to prove, Y/N looped her hair into a ponytail, spat into the dirt, and jogged back into formation. On her right, Vicky Losada — ten and already loud — elbowed her with a grin.

“Capitana, that ball’s in love with you.”

“Not now, Vicky.”

“No, really. I think even Alexia’s jealous.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. It was a familiar tease, one that had started a few weeks back when the new kid joined — Alexia Putellas, age seven, with tangled brown hair and eyes too big for her face. She hardly spoke, but she always watched. Always lingered near Y/N’s side during warm-ups. Always sprinted harder when Y/N praised her.

Vicky nudged her again. “You know she stares at you, right? It’s weird. Like you’re a Pokémon card or something.”

“She’s a child, Vicky.”

“So are you.”

“Barely.”

——————

They broke into another set of dribbles before Y/N could retort. By the time training ended, her shirt clung to her back and her socks were streaked with the red clay that passed for turf in the lesser-used fields of CE Sabadell’s facilities. The older girls had the nicer pitch. The boys had the better cleats. And the girls’ under-13s? They had sunburn, gravel, and talent no one bothered to watch.

Y/N picked up two stray cones before turning to see the little one — Alexia — sitting cross-legged by the touchline, waiting. Her kit was still too big for her. The number on her back — 11 — nearly hit her knees.

No one else lingered. No one ever did. But Alexia always waited.

“You okay?” Y/N asked, swinging her duffle bag over one shoulder.

Alexia nodded. “My papa’s late again.”

There was a softness to her voice, careful and shy, like she wasn’t used to being heard. Y/N had always found that part hard to ignore.

“Want me to wait with you?”

Another nod. Not too eager. Not bashful either. Just… honest.

They sat on the concrete step near the field gate. The air smelled like sweat and overwatered grass. Cicadas buzzed somewhere in the distance, and the orange light of a Catalan evening dipped low across the hills beyond the pitch.

Alexia tugged at the velcro of her shin guards.

“Do you want to be a professional footballer?” she asked suddenly.

Y/N blinked, then smiled. “That’s the plan.”

“You will be.”

That startled her — not because of the certainty, but because of the way Alexia said it. Like it wasn’t a dream. Like it was already true.

“You think so?”

Alexia looked up at her, wide-eyed and serious. “You’re the best player I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N laughed gently. “You need to see more players, Lex.”

“I don’t want to.”

The honesty was too much for someone so small. It left Y/N quiet for a beat too long.

Behind them, Vicky appeared with her dad, eating half a bocadillo and grinning like a menace.

“Still waiting together? Aww. That’s adorable.”

“Go away, Vicky,” Y/N said without venom.

Vicky bit her sandwich and smirked. “She drew a heart on your water bottle earlier.”

Alexia turned red in a heartbeat — the kind of flush that ran straight up her neck like a siren. Y/N felt her stomach twist.

“She’s just a kid,” she said quietly, but the words didn’t sound like a dismissal.

Vicky shrugged. “Some kids know.”

Alexia didn’t say anything.

Y/N changed the subject.

“So, what’s your favorite team?”

“Barça,” Alexia said immediately. Then, after a pause: “But I like our team better.”

Y/N grinned. “Good answer.”

Minutes passed. The sun lowered. Shadows stretched long across the pitch.

Alexia’s father eventually pulled up in the familiar navy SEAT Toledo, waving from the driver’s side with an apologetic smile. Alexia stood, slung her bag over her shoulder, and turned back one last time.

“Thanks for waiting with me.”

“Always,” Y/N said.

And then — just before she walked off — Alexia pulled something from her bag and handed it to her.

A drawing. Crumpled at the edges, done in ballpoint pen and the kind of rainbow markers only little kids carried around.

It was the two of them — stick figures with lopsided kits — kicking a ball together. Over their heads was one messy word, written all in capitals:

“CAPITANA.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond. Didn’t. Just watched as the little girl ran off, long hair bouncing, boots clumsy on her heels.

Later that night, she slipped the drawing into her diary.

She told herself it was because it was sweet.

Not because it felt like a promise.

——————

Winter, 2005 – CE Sabadell & Mollet del Vallès

The winter came faster that year.

Not in snow — Sabadell rarely got that — but in the kind of cold that settled in the bones and clung like regret. The grass turned from green to straw. Training moved to earlier in the day. And Y/N started arriving later and later.

Alexia noticed.

She always noticed.

Her captain wasn’t like the others. Most girls laughed too loud, kicked too hard, came and went like passing clouds. But Y/N? Y/N stayed. Always stayed.

Until she didn’t.

It happened just after Alexia’s eleventh birthday.

Her mamá had let her stay at training ten minutes longer, something about her being “una señorita” now, whatever that meant. She had just taken her last shot on goal when she noticed Y/N wasn’t there.

Not running extra drills. Not doing her usual “one more” before packing up. Not waiting by the dugout.

Gone.

Vicky noticed too. Her voice was unusually quiet when she jogged over, her jacket half-zipped and cheeks red from the wind.

“She’s not coming today,” she said.

“Why?” Alexia asked, already anxious.

“She’s leaving.”

“Like… leaving practice?”

“No. Like leaving Spain.”

Alexia stopped breathing for a second.

“She didn’t say goodbye.”

“She wasn’t allowed to.” Vicky shrugged. “Her dad got some job back in America. Something about visas. It was sudden. She just left.”

“But—” Alexia’s voice broke. “She said she’d wait.”

Vicky hesitated. Then reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper.

“She told me to give you this.”

Alexia took it with trembling fingers.

It was written in block letters — clean, careful — like Y/N had rewritten it a few times before getting it right.

Ale,

I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. This wasn’t supposed to be goodbye.

You’re the best player I’ve ever met, and you’re going to be ten times better than me one day. I mean it.

I’m really proud of you.

This is my number. Call me. I’ll pick up, always.

— Y/N

(P.S. Keep the drawing. I still have the one you gave me.)

+34 6XX XXX XXX

Alexia clutched it in her fist until the corners curled and the ink smudged.

Later that night, she waited for her father to fall asleep before sneaking into the hallway and using the cordless phone.

She dialed slowly. Carefully.

Ring.

Click.

Silence.

Then: “The number you have dialed is not in service.”

She tried again.

And again.

The next morning, she folded the note into her training diary, next to the first goal she ever scored.

She didn’t cry. Not yet.

——————

For months after, Alexia looked for her.

On passing streets. In crowd shots. At school tournaments.

Each time someone new joined training, her heart leapt — just for a second — before she remembered the age difference. Before she remembered how people disappear sometimes. Even the ones who say they won’t.

It was her father who eventually threw out the drawing.

Not cruelly — just absentmindedly during a spring cleaning. Alexia found the empty folder and lost her breath.

“I know you admired her,” he told her gently when he saw her frozen at the bin. “I’m sorry that I almost threw it out.”

She carried the note in her shin guard for three straight seasons. Right up until she made her debut for the senior Sabadell side at fourteen. Then, she moved it into her locker at Barça’s youth academy.

By the time she turned eighteen, she still remembered the number.

And by twenty?

She still hadn’t forgotten the way Y/N tied her shoelaces twice — like she was sealing something in.

——————

Brighton, 2025

Vicky Losada pressed the phone to her ear and grinned into the morning sun slanting through the English clouds.

“She’s here,” she said.

“Who?” came the scratchy voice on the other line — older now, tired from training, clipped with Catalan fatigue.

“Your old captain.”

Silence.

Then:

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I got the confirmation this morning — she’s working as a data analyst for one of the startups Barça’s contracted. She’s based in Gràcia. Moved in six months ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because I wasn’t sure if you’d want to know.”

Alexia breathed in. Slow. Careful.

“I’ve always wanted to know.”

That night, she opened her old keepsake box — the one she kept in the back of her closet behind her UEFA medals and a faded Barça flag.

The note was still there.

Faded. Fraying. But real.

Her fingers brushed over the final line.

“I’ll pick up. Always.”

——————

Barcelona, Present Day – 2025

Y/N never liked offices with windows.

Not in the way people normally did. While others wanted open views, sunlight, and cityscapes, she preferred controlled lighting and screens — quiet corners, muted blue glows, and walls she could lean into without having to smile at a skyline.

It was early — a Monday morning, one of those that started too cold and too quiet for Barcelona spring — and her coffee had already gone cold beside her mousepad. The tactical dashboard in front of her blinked with heatmaps and pass completion percentages from Saturday’s match against Atlético Madrid.

She leaned in, squinting at a data point on Salma’s sprints when the knock came.

Three taps. Then silence.

Not from her team. No one ever knocked.

Y/N rose, smoothing her sweater absently, and opened the door to the Barça sports analytics office.

Then blinked.

“Hola,” said Alexia Putellas, leaning slightly on the doorframe like she’d rehearsed this in her head.

And forgotten her lines.

Alexia didn’t look like she belonged here — not really. Not in the sleek corridor, not under the cold-white LED overheads. She looked like she had just come from the gym (she had), dressed in Barça kit, hair still damp from a post-training shower. There was a duffle bag slung over one shoulder, and something unreadable in her eyes.

“I— Sorry—” Y/N stepped back out of instinct. “I think you might be looking for… marketing? Or media?”

Alexia tilted her head. “I know where I am.”

Y/N stared.

“I’m looking for you.”

The breath lodged in her throat. “Me?”

“You’re Y/N L/N, right?”

Pause.

“…Yeah. I— Yeah.”

Alexia smiled. Small. Awkward.

“I used to call you Capitana.”

The moment slammed into her like a cleat to the chest.

Y/N opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked at her like a photograph that shouldn’t exist anymore — all grown up, real, alive, and standing at her door like the ghost of a promise she’d written on crumpled notebook paper.

“You’re…” Her voice cracked. “Wow. You’re taller.”

Alexia gave a huff of a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that once or twice.”

“And… good. You’re good.”

Alexia raised a brow. “I’m very good.”

“Cocky, too.”

“Only sometimes.”

Y/N couldn’t stop staring. The last time she saw Alexia Putellas, she was eleven years old, all oversized shirts and flushed cheeks. Now — thirty-one and towering, with that sharp captain’s focus softened only slightly by the smile creeping across her face.

“You remember me?” Y/N asked, voice quieter now.

Alexia nodded. “Of course I do.”

“You were a kid.”

“I wasn’t stupid.”

“No,” Y/N said, swallowing, “you weren’t.”

They stood in the doorway for a beat too long.

Finally, Y/N cleared her throat and gestured inside. “Come in?”

Alexia stepped in without hesitation, ducking her head slightly under the doorframe.

The room was a nest of screens and coffee mugs, tactical overlays projected onto one side of the wall, and a framed photo of Y/N’s old university team on a high shelf — mostly hidden behind a stack of training bibs and a model of a football pitch with magnetic tokens.

Alexia surveyed it all silently.

“You’re still around the game,” she finally said.

Y/N sat back in her chair. “Not on the field, but yeah. Barely.”

“I used to think you’d go pro.”

“I didn’t,” Y/N said simply.

Alexia waited, but Y/N didn’t elaborate.

“So what do you do exactly?” she asked instead.

“Data analytics. Mostly tactical breakdowns. I read games like books and explain why your heatmap’s shaped like a dagger this week.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“Depends. Are you trying to stab the opposition?”

Alexia smirked. “Always.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. She still hadn’t fully wrapped her mind around the fact that this was real — that Alexia Putellas, captain of FC Barcelona, Ballon d’Or winner, living legend — was standing in her office with the same crooked smile and soft-eyed intensity she remembered from the kid who used to follow her around at training.

“You look exactly the same,” Alexia said, voice dropping.

“I definitely don’t.”

“You do. Same eyes. Same smirk when you’re thinking something mean.”

“I’m not—” Y/N stopped. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

Alexia tilted her head. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

Y/N blinked. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

“I never forgot.”

They sat there in a silence that didn’t feel awkward — just full. Like pages waiting to be turned.

Finally, Alexia reached into her duffle and pulled something out.

A folded, time-yellowed piece of paper.

Y/N frowned. “Is that…”

Alexia handed it to her.

It was her note. The one she left with Vicky. The ink had faded, but the handwriting was unmistakably hers — block letters, a little too upright, trying hard not to shake.

Y/N felt her throat tighten.

“You kept it?”

“Of course I did.”

“But the number didn’t work.”

“I still tried it every year. Just in case.”

Y/N stared down at the paper. Her past staring back at her. Her lungs felt like they were folding in on themselves, gently.

“I was pulled out of school so fast,” she said. “My parents were furious. I was sick, and they didn’t want me playing anymore. We left in forty-eight hours.”

Alexia’s brow creased. “Sick?”

Y/N blinked, then smiled tightly. “Another time.”

A long pause.

“You left just before I scored my first goal.”

“I saw it on the newsletter online,” Y/N said softly. “I had it printed and pinned above my desk. You looked so proud.”

“I was,” Alexia said. “But I still looked for you in the stands.”

The words hung there. Heavy. Gentle.

Then Alexia added: “You gave me the word ‘capitana.’ I never let it go.”

Y/N exhaled slowly. “You always had it in you.”

Alexia met her gaze. “You did too.”

That stopped Y/N in her tracks. She had no reply to that — not one that didn’t bleed.

Instead, she shifted in her seat and gestured toward the screen behind her. “So. You want to see how dagger-shaped your heatmap really is?”

Alexia grinned. “Are you trying to seduce me with statistics?”

“I think I’m trying to humble you.”

“Good luck with that.”

They stayed in that office for another hour — not quite friends, not yet something more. Just a captain and her former captain, orbiting each other again like clocks that were once out of sync.

But now, maybe, catching up.

——————

Gràcia, Barcelona – 2025

The apartment was quiet in the way hospitals are — not silent, just measured. Every sound had its place. The hum of the air purifier in the corner. The soft click of the nebuliser cycling off. The rain tapping faintly against the window, like someone unsure they were welcome.

Y/N sat on the edge of her bed with a towel slung around her neck, her damp hair curling slightly at the ends, bare feet pressed to the warm wood floor. She coughed once — not sharp, not violent, just the kind that sat deep in her ribs, blooming there.

She checked her oxygen saturation.

92%.

Good enough.

Outside, Gràcia was coming to life with the slow rush of early evening — the narrow streets filling with the metallic shuffle of supermarket trolleys, the muffled clink of terrace wine glasses, dogs barking from windowsills. But Y/N stayed in. She usually did.

She wiped her mouth and turned the nebuliser off, folding the tubing neatly the way she always had. The routine was muscle memory now — saline rinse, Pulmozyme, chest percussion, vest if needed. It didn’t bother her anymore. Not really. The only part that did — the part that always did — was the pause after.

When everything was done and she sat in the quiet and remembered what her lungs used to be like.

She was ten when the diagnosis came.

Her parents had flown into a panic — urgent appointments, medical letters, second and third opinions. They didn’t want her running anymore. Didn’t want her training. Didn’t want her doing anything that could shorten a life already bracketed by limitation.

But Y/N?

Y/N kept playing until she was sixteen.

She played because the field was the only place her body didn’t feel like a trap. She played because her lungs burned in a way that made her feel alive. She played because, for a while, she had someone younger watching her — believing in her — like she could be something more than just a cautionary tale with cleats.

Alexia had been seven when she first joined the Sabadell team. Wide-eyed, fearless, and stubborn as hell.

And Y/N remembered her. All of her.

Even now.

She rose slowly from the bed and padded barefoot across the room to the closet. Pulled down a dusty cardboard box from the top shelf.

It was labelled Sabadell in faded marker.

Inside:

An old training bib, number 4 half-faded.

A pair of small cleats with the laces double-knotted.

A polaroid of the 2004 girls’ team — Y/N standing tall at the back, Vicky grinning in the middle, and little Alexia at the front, hands clasped behind her back, face half hidden behind a too-large fringe.

And beneath all of it — a folded piece of printer paper.

She opened it slowly.

The drawing. The one Alexia had given her all those years ago.

Stick figures. A ball. Two little jerseys. Over their heads, the word “CAPITANA” in blue marker, the A written backwards.

Y/N exhaled through her nose.

She hadn’t looked at this in years. Not since college. She’d always told herself keeping it was harmless nostalgia — not some part of her refusing to let go.

But now, after this morning?

After Alexia stood in her office like time hadn’t passed — like they’d just skipped ten chapters and picked up where they left off?

Something in her chest pulsed.

Not her lungs. Something deeper.

——————

Later that night, she sat at her desk, laptop open, cursor blinking on a blank tactical report.

She should’ve been working. Should’ve been analyzing the gaps in the half-spaces from the weekend’s second half.

Instead, she was searching YouTube for old match footage.

There she was — Alexia, age 19, subbed in during a preseason match for the senior team. She looked lighter then. Not in skill, but in soul. The weight of captaincy hadn’t hardened her yet. She still played like the ball belonged to her and no one else.

Y/N watched the goal on loop. The left-footed strike. The turn just before it. The celebration that followed — all teeth and triumph and a small, inexplicable glance to the crowd, like she was looking for someone.

Y/N had watched this clip before.

But tonight, it hurt differently.

She coughed again, this time into the crook of her elbow, deeper. Her whole body folding in.

After it passed, she reached for the bottle of water by her nightstand and the inhaler tucked beneath it.

One puff.

Hold.

Release.

Then she leaned back against the headboard and let herself breathe.

She hadn’t told Alexia. Not today. Not ever.

She wasn’t sure she would.

What do you say?

“Hey, it’s been twenty years, sorry about ghosting. Also, my lungs are slowly failing me, and I didn’t want to ruin your childhood by sticking around.”

No. That wasn’t fair. And it wasn’t true. Not completely.

She hadn’t stayed away because she was sick.

She stayed away because she was scared.

Scared of being remembered too fondly.

Scared of becoming something someone pitied.

Scared that the girl who once looked at her like she hung the moon would see her now — and wonder why stars fall.

A message lit up on her phone just before midnight.

Alexia Putellas.

“You still tie your shoelaces the same way.”

Y/N blinked. Smiled.

Typed back:

“Some habits die hard.”

The reply came fast.

“So do some crushes.”

Her breath hitched.

She didn’t respond.

Instead, she turned off the light, tucked the drawing back into its box, and whispered into the dark:

“I remember you too.”

——————

Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper, Later That Week

Y/N stood just outside the training pitch, sunglasses low on her nose and an iPad clutched to her chest like it might save her from the unsolicited attention she was about to receive.

From the field, she could already see the glint of chaos.

Mapi was hanging off the goalpost. Patri was definitely talking trash at someone mid-drill. Jana had paused her warm-up stretch to squint suspiciously in Y/N’s direction, elbowing Ona as if to say “There. Told you. That’s her.”

And in the middle of it all — as if she wasn’t the one who had sneakily added Y/N to the staff access list for “cross-department observational purposes” — was Alexia.

“Hey,” Alexia called, jogging over before Y/N could disappear into the tunnel. “Glad you came.”

“I didn’t come,” Y/N deadpanned. “You roped me into this under the pretense of ‘data insight integration.’ Which is not a real thing, by the way.”

Alexia grinned, wiping sweat from her temple. “It worked, though.”

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, then paused as Alexia took the iPad from her hands and set it on the bench. Too close. Their arms brushed. Heat flared, unwelcome and familiar.

“You’ve got no shame, do you?”

“None,” Alexia said easily. “Not when it comes to football.”

Y/N raised a brow.

“Or you,” Alexia added, quietly. Too quietly.

Ten minutes later, she was somehow still there — standing awkwardly behind the cones as Mapi shouted something inappropriate across the pitch in her direction.

“She’s definitely not marketing,” Mapi yelled.

“She’s the data girl!” Patri shouted back.

“Data girls don’t get Alexia to smile like that,” Ona chimed in, pulling her bib off with a smirk.

Y/N shook her head and folded her arms. “You have a very loud team.”

Alexia looked almost proud. “We’re efficient communicators.”

“Efficient is not the word I’d use when Mapi’s catcalling me across the halfway line.”

“She only does that to people I like.”

That made Y/N pause.

Alexia clocked it and added, “Also because she’s insufferable.”

——————

After the session, while the players filtered into the gym, Y/N lingered near the benches, her bag slung low, trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person. Alexia wandered over, water bottle in hand, towel slung across her shoulders.

“Want to grab lunch?” she asked casually, like they hadn’t just spent two hours in a minefield of glances and innuendo.

“I don’t usually eat with players.”

“I’m not usually ‘players.’”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You can’t use your Ballon d’Or as a cheat code.”

“I haven’t even tried that yet. Do you want me to?”

“Alexia.”

“Yes?”

Y/N looked at her. Really looked.

Her cheeks still a little flushed from training. Hair a mess. That crooked, overconfident smile that didn’t quite match the way her eyes stayed soft.

God, she was in trouble.

“I have work.”

“I’ll walk you to your office.”

“That’s not lunch.”

“Then I’ll walk you toward lunch and you can turn me down halfway there.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You used to say I was sweet.”

“You were a kid.”

Alexia leaned in, mock-serious. “I’m in my thirties now.”

Y/N scoffed. “Yeah. And insufferable.”

But she didn’t move away.

Neither did Alexia.

——————

Later that evening – Barça group chat

Patri:

Sooooo… was that her? 👀

Mapi:

The OG crush?? Capitana herself???

Jana:

Why did Alexia literally try to nutmeg her with a water bottle?

Ona:

She BLUSHED. I swear. Our Capitana actually blushed.

Irene:

Leave her alone, joder. Let her fall in love like a normal person.

Mapi:

Love??? 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Alexia:

I can see this chat.

Patri:

Good. Then you’ll see this too 💅🏽👸🏻📉🏃🏻‍♀️ = you + her. Translation: Slay. Queen. Data. Lesbians.

——————

Instagram, same night

@alexiaputellas posted a carousel:

Slide 1: A throwback Sabadell photo. Blurry, sun-drenched.

Slide 2: A pair of worn cleats on a grass pitch.

Slide 3: A close-up of her armband.

Caption: “Started from the mud. Still here. ⚽️💙”

Tag: @ynlnusername

Comments:

@janafernandez3:

Oh, we’re soft-launching now? 👀

@vickyylopezz._:

We love a backstory Lilo.

@losada_vicky:

Hola capitana @ynlnusername.

——————

Back in her apartment, Y/N stared at her phone like it might combust.

She didn’t know what this was. Not really. Not yet.

But she could feel it in her chest — something loosening. Something frightening. Something stupid and reckless and warm.

She texted one word back:

“Why?”

Alexia replied two minutes later:

“Because you waited for me. Even when you didn’t know it.”

Y/N didn’t sleep much that night.

——————

Gràcia, Barcelona — A Thursday Evening

Barcelona glowed gold and violet under a cloudless dusk, the kind of sky that made rooftops feel like altars.

Y/N’s building was old — stone bones, crooked railings, and a narrow spiral staircase that hated her knees. But the rooftop? The rooftop was her favourite part. Half-abandoned, half-overgrown, full of mismatched garden chairs and a single table with a mosaic top someone had clearly made drunk.

Alexia had never been up here. Until now.

“Hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Y/N said as she unlocked the rooftop gate and nudged it open with her hip.

“I play in front of thousands of people,” Alexia replied, following her up with a bottle of wine in one hand and two paper cups in the other. “Heights aren’t the problem.”

Y/N smirked. “Good. Because this railing is basically ornamental.”

They sat cross-legged on opposite sides of the table, the city humming below them — distant traffic, a Vespa’s snarl, someone laughing four buildings over. Y/N watched the sky fade from lavender to blue. Alexia poured the wine.

“So what’s the occasion?” Y/N asked, accepting a cup.

Alexia shrugged. “You said no to dinner. Again. I thought maybe I’d increase my odds if I showed up with alcohol.”

Y/N arched a brow. “This your strategy with all the girls?”

“No. Just the ones who left me on read in 2005.”

Y/N coughed a laugh. “That’s your statute of limitations?”

“More like a personal vendetta.”

“Cute.”

“You used to call me cute.”

“I used to call you kiddo.”

Alexia grinned over her wine. “You don’t anymore.”

The air stretched between them, thick and bright.

Alexia leaned back in her chair, arms draped loosely along the sides. “I always wanted to ask why you disappeared. I used to think I did something wrong.”

“You were ten,” Y/N said, voice softer than she meant it to be.

“Still.”

Y/N set her cup down. “It wasn’t you. I promise.”

“Then what was it?”

Y/N hesitated.

There it was. The question that hovered behind every look, every text, every awkward almost-invite in the weeks since they’d reunited.

She could lie. Or sidestep. Or offer some version that skimmed the surface.

But Alexia didn’t deserve that. Not anymore.

“I have cystic fibrosis,” Y/N said. “Diagnosed when I was ten.”

Alexia blinked.

Y/N continued, voice steady: “My parents didn’t want me playing. They thought it would shorten my life. It might’ve. But I loved it. So I kept playing until I couldn’t. Around sixteen, my lungs started declining. I was hospitalized twice in one year. That was the end of my career.”

Silence.

“I didn’t want to tell anyone,” she added. “Least of all a little kid who looked at me like I was a superhero.”

Alexia’s eyes didn’t move. “You were.”

“I wasn’t,” Y/N said, smiling tightly. “I was just stubborn.”

Alexia leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You think being stubborn makes you less of one?”

Y/N stared at her. “I think it made me stupid.”

“No,” Alexia said. “It made you brave.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full. Thoughtful.

Y/N exhaled slowly.

“Anyway,” she said, “that’s why I never called. And why the number stopped working. We moved back to the States. My parents put me in a private school. I never played again.”

“And now you’re back.”

“I missed the city.”

“No other reason?”

Y/N sipped her wine. “I don’t know. Maybe I needed to know if anything I left behind was still here.”

“Was it?”

Y/N looked up. “Some of it.”

Alexia held her gaze. “Me?”

Y/N didn’t answer.

——————

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the tiles.

Alexia stood suddenly and crossed to the edge of the roof, leaning on the iron railing with her forearms. The wind caught her hair, sending strands dancing around her face.

Y/N joined her, slower, more hesitant.

They stood side by side in the golden dark.

“You ever wonder what would’ve happened if I stayed?” Y/N asked.

“All the time,” Alexia said.

“I probably would’ve played another year. Maybe two. Maybe I’d be the one in your position now.”

“I don’t think so.”

Y/N glanced at her. “Why not?”

Alexia turned her head. “Because I never played like you. I played like I had something to prove. You played like you belonged there. Like you were the game.”

“That’s a lot of praise for someone who peaked at age sixteen.”

Alexia smiled. “You didn’t peak. You paused.”

Y/N let her fingers curl around the rusted railing. “It’s not that simple.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

There was a pause. Heavy.

Then:

“I used to copy the way you tied your boots,” Alexia said suddenly.

Y/N blinked.

“You double-knotted and tucked the laces underneath. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. I made Vicky re-tie mine every match until I could do it myself.”

Y/N laughed softly, eyes shining. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

“You were obsessed with me.”

“I was.”

Alexia turned toward her now, closer than before, eyes full of something older than nostalgia.

“I think I still am.”

Y/N didn’t move.

“I’m not the same person,” she said.

“Neither am I.”

“I’m sick, Alexia.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to get sicker.”

“I know that too.”

“And you still…?”

Alexia nodded. “Yeah.”

The city kept moving beneath them. Horns. Voices. A dog barking somewhere far away.

But up here, it was quiet.

Alexia leaned in.

So did Y/N.

Almost.

Her breath hitched — not from her lungs this time, but from something else. Something vulnerable and terrifying and warm.

Then she pulled back.

Just enough.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

Alexia didn’t look hurt. She just nodded.

“I’ll wait.”

“You’ve done enough of that.”

“I haven’t even started.”

They stood there a little longer, watching the city blink itself to sleep.

And somewhere between dusk and nightfall, a part of Y/N — the part that had been stuck on pause since she was ten years old — started to shift.

Not forward.

Not yet.

But toward something that might one day be worth the fall.

——————

Barcelona — Three Days Later

Y/N had always been good at disappearing.

She’d perfected it the first time she left Barcelona — quiet, clean, with just a note and a number and a folded goodbye she didn’t have the breath to say aloud. She hadn’t expected to use those skills again, not like this. But here she was — radio silent for three days, unread messages piling up, a long walk home instead of the metro just to avoid running into the wrong teammate at the wrong hour.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Alexia.

It was that she did.

Too much.

And that was the problem.

——————

The coughs had returned that morning — dry at first, then deeper. She’d skipped her afternoon saline dose, and now she felt it sitting in her chest, thick and threatening. Her head ached from lack of sleep. She hadn’t touched solid food in 24 hours.

She told herself it was stress.

She told herself a lot of things.

But mostly, she told herself that Alexia didn’t deserve this.

——————

It was a mistake to stop by the training facility.

She told herself she was just dropping off data. Not staying. Not lingering. Just loading a report onto the shared drive, checking the predictive injury monitor, and leaving.

But she didn’t count on Jana.

“Hey,” Jana said, blocking the hallway with a kind of quiet defiance only someone her age could pull off. “You okay?”

Y/N blinked. “Fine.”

“You’ve been ghosting our captain.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Jana tilted her head, not buying it. “She’s… weird right now. Like, soft weird. She left her boots in the freezer this morning.”

“That can’t be real.”

“She said she was ‘icing the part of her that wouldn’t let go.’”

Y/N winced. “Jesus Christ.”

“She said it with a straight face,” Jana added.

Y/N groaned.

Jana paused. Then gently asked, “What did you tell her?”

Y/N’s chest tightened and looked away.

“She deserves someone whole,” she said quietly.

Jana just looked at her for a long moment and said:

“She deserves someone honest. Are you that?”

Y/N didn’t answer.

——————

That night, she walked home in the dark.

Barcelona felt different now — familiar but sharp around the edges. Every plaza a memory. Every pitch a ghost. Every glance at her phone a reminder that Alexia had stopped texting after the third unanswered message.

She thought she’d feel relieved.

She didn’t.

She felt empty.

——————

The knock came at midnight.

Three taps. Like the very first time.

Y/N stared at the door for a full thirty seconds before she opened it.

Alexia stood there, dressed in black sweats, hair pulled back, face unreadable.

“Hi,” she said.

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

“Hi.”

“Can I come in?”

Y/N stepped aside.

The silence stretched as Alexia moved to the window, looked out, then turned back.

“You don’t get to vanish on me again,” she said. Calm. Controlled. But her voice cracked at the end.

Y/N folded her arms. “I needed space.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Yes.”

“Or are you scared?”

Y/N blinked. “Of what?”

“Of being loved by someone who knows exactly what she’s signing up for.”

She flinched.

Alexia stepped closer.

“I’ve already lived without you. For years. I don’t want to do that again.”

“I’m sick, Alexia.”

“I know.”

“You might watch me get worse.”

“I know that too.”

“You might have to say goodbye before you’re ready.”

Alexia took another step.

“I said goodbye to you once already. When I was ten. At a field where you never came back.”

Y/N swallowed hard.

Alexia’s voice dropped.

“And I survived it. But I never stopped looking. Not really. So if you think I’m going to run now, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

The tears came before she could stop them — silent and sharp. Her breath caught, shallow. The fear she had locked behind her ribs broke loose all at once.

“I don’t want to make you sad,” she whispered.

“You already did,” Alexia said. “By leaving.”

Y/N shook her head. “You deserve someone who can—who can go to every game. Who can travel. Who can run. I haven’t run in years.”

Alexia touched her hand.

“I don’t want you for your lungs.”

That startled a laugh out of her — wet, choked.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m right.”

They stood there, forehead to forehead, the weight of years pressing into the space between them.

Y/N finally said, “I can’t give you forever.”

Alexia nodded.

“Then give me what you can,” she said. “I’ll make it enough.”

The kiss didn’t come then.

Not yet.

But something closer did — an understanding, fragile and bright.

The quiet kind of love that doesn’t arrive with thunder but instead grows like moss.

——————

Barcelona — Saturday Afternoon

It was supposed to be simple.

Just a walk.

Not a date.

Alexia hadn’t called it one. She hadn’t even suggested anything extravagant. Just: “Let me take you somewhere. Nothing fancy. Just… you and me.”

So Y/N said yes.

She didn’t know why.

Maybe because it was spring and her lungs had been kind for three days in a row. Maybe because she’d missed how Alexia looked at her like she was still wearing that captain’s armband. Or maybe — most dangerously — because the silence in her apartment was starting to feel like punishment.

So she said yes.

And Alexia showed up with two takeaway cortados and a jacket over her arm, just in case Y/N got cold. She said nothing about her oxygen monitor — a sleek black band around her wrist — and didn’t flinch when Y/N paused at the bottom of her building to catch her breath.

Instead, she just offered her hand.

Y/N didn’t take it.

But she didn’t pull away either.

——————

They walked slowly through the streets of Gràcia, avoiding the crowded squares and taking back roads until the sun broke through the alleyways and spilled onto the top of Las Ramblas.

It was late enough in the day that the tourist crowds had started to thin, leaving only locals and lovers and weekend drifters. Street performers curled around fountains, selling half-hearted magic tricks and roses wrapped in old newspaper. The market was still buzzing, music rising from hidden speakers and fruit stalls.

“I used to hate this street,” Alexia admitted, sipping her cortado.

Y/N raised a brow. “Because it’s popular?”

“Because it reminds me of who’s not here to see it with me.”

Y/N slowed her steps. “Your dad?”

Alexia nodded once. “He brought me here when I was six. Told me every street in this city had a heartbeat. I didn’t know what that meant until years later.”

“And now?”

Alexia glanced at her. “Now I think some streets beat louder when the right person walks beside you.”

Y/N snorted. “You’ve been spending too much time with poets.”

“I’ve been spending too much time missing you,” Alexia said, shrugging.

And just like that — silence again.

Not uncomfortable.

But charged.

——————

They stopped at a quiet café just off the avenue, one of those tucked-away places with only two outdoor tables and a chalkboard menu in smudged cursive. Y/N let Alexia choose the seats — in the shade — and they ordered sparkling water and a small plate of olives they barely touched.

Y/N’s breathing was slower now. Controlled. But she could still feel the tightness at the edges of her ribs.

“You okay?” Alexia asked gently, watching her track her O2 levels discreetly under the table.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, forcing a small smile. “Just pacing myself.”

Alexia nodded. “We can go home anytime.”

“No,” Y/N said. “I want to be here. With you.”

——————

They didn’t talk much.

Not because there was nothing to say, but because sometimes, people who’ve already waited years don’t need to fill every second with words. Sometimes they just want to sit in the same frame again.

Alexia was quieter than usual. She didn’t reach across the table. Didn’t push. Just let the air settle.

Y/N watched her in profile. The slope of her nose. The scar at her temple. The strength in her stillness.

“I used to think you were going to change the world,” she said.

Alexia didn’t look up.

“I used to think you were the world,” Alexia replied.

——————

They left the café an hour later and walked down to the end of the avenue, where the street met the water and the breeze picked up from the marina.

Y/N stopped.

Alexia did too.

“I can’t go much farther,” Y/N said, hand on the railing. “Sorry.”

Alexia reached over and gently linked their pinkies. Not a full hand. Just a tether.

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” she said. “You’re already here.”

They sat on a bench at the edge of the dock. Alexia leaned back, arms stretched across the top rail. Y/N curled one leg beneath her and watched the boats drift.

“I miss playing,” she said quietly. “Some days I wake up and think I could still do it. Just for five minutes. Just to feel what it’s like to run again without worrying.”

Alexia said nothing.

Then: “Wanna know a secret?”

Y/N nodded.

“I miss watching you more than I miss playing with you.”

Y/N turned to look at her. “You were seven going ten.”

Alexia smiled. “You were magic even then.” Then she continued, “Alex Morgan is lucky your lungs are not as good — she would never be in the national team’s lineup with you around.”

Y/N laughed, the unconscious kind.

Alexia, liking Y/N’s reaction continued, “With your talent, personality and good looks — you would have been America’s sweetheart.”

Her head rested lightly on Y/N’s shoulder. The moment felt suspended — not quite real, not quite memory.

A group of school kids ran past. A dog barked from a bicycle basket. Somewhere, someone played a saxophone badly.

And for a second, it was just them.

When they got back to Y/N’s apartment, she paused at the front step.

“Do you want to come up?” she asked.

Alexia blinked. “Are you sure?”

Y/N nodded. “I don’t think I want to be alone tonight.”

——————

They didn’t kiss.

They didn’t even touch beyond the brief brush of shoulders on the couch.

They watched an old match replay — one where Alexia scored a ridiculous volley from the edge of the box.

“You always did love the dramatics,” Y/N murmured.

“You always made me believe I could pull them off.”

——————

By the time Alexia fell asleep on the corner cushion, Y/N was still awake, her oxygen monitor blinking softly at her wrist.

She looked at Alexia’s sleeping form — one hand curled against her cheek, lips slightly parted, brow relaxed in a way Y/N hadn’t seen in years.

She whispered, “You’re already here too.”

And she meant it.

——————

Barcelona — Midnight, same night

Y/N woke to the weight of something warm pressed against her thigh and the soft, uneven rhythm of breath not her own.

Alexia had fallen asleep sideways on the couch — head tipped back, mouth parted slightly, hair a mess of golden-brown curls crushed against the throw pillow. Her sweatshirt had ridden up just enough to show a sliver of skin above her waistband. One arm hung over the edge of the couch, fingers twitching slightly in sleep.

It was, without a doubt, the least glamorous she’d ever looked.

And somehow, Y/N couldn’t look away.

Not because Alexia was beautiful — she always had been.

But because she was still here.

After the rooftop and the retreat and the look in her eyes that said I’m scared of what you might lose by choosing me.

She chose her anyway.

Again and again.

Even now.

——————

Y/N didn’t move at first. Just sat there, half-tucked into the armrest, oxygen monitor quietly blinking at her wrist. Her lungs felt okay — not great, but manageable. Her body had learned how to adjust. It always did.

But her heart?

That had no idea what to do with this woman curled against her leg like she belonged there.

She brushed her fingers gently over Alexia’s hair, trying not to wake her.

Alexia stirred anyway. Softly.

“Mmm… qué hora es?” she mumbled, voice rasped with sleep.

“Just after midnight,” Y/N whispered. “You fell asleep mid-second half.”

Alexia blinked blearily. “Was I winning?”

“You were yelling at the ref in your sleep, so… probably.”

A sleepy grin.

Then — silence. Comfortable. Familiar.

Alexia’s eyes fluttered shut again.

Y/N hesitated. Then said, quietly, “Stay.”

Alexia’s eyes opened again. This time fully.

“I mean it,” Y/N added. “Don’t go home. Not tonight.”

Alexia sat up slowly, blinking the sleep away. “Are you sure?”

“No,” Y/N said, heart thudding, “but I’m done waiting to be.”

They moved like people testing a theory.

Not rushed.

Not hesitant.

Just… deliberate.

Y/N led her to the bedroom without needing to say anything else. Alexia followed. The air between them had shifted — not heavier, not tenser. Just more real. More now.

The bedroom was dim, lit only by the soft amber of the salt lamp in the corner and the city’s orange haze through the curtains. The bed was still unmade. The covers half-thrown from a bad night two nights ago.

Y/N stood at the edge and turned.

Alexia watched her. Just watched.

Then said, softly:

“You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I’m not,” Y/N whispered back. “I just want to feel what it’s like… to let someone in. While I still can.”

Alexia crossed the room in two slow steps and cupped her jaw.

“Then let me.”

They undressed slowly. Like unwrapping something sacred. Not fumbling. Not breathless. Just soft, reverent motions between heartbeats.

Y/N’s oxygen monitor stayed on.

Alexia didn’t ask.

Didn’t flinch.

Just kissed the inside of her wrist and whispered:

“You’re still the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

——————

They made love like it was a language they’d learned in pieces across twenty years.

Alexia’s touch was patient.

Y/N’s hands trembled, but not from fear.

When Alexia kissed her shoulder, Y/N exhaled with a sound that was almost a sob.

“Still okay?” Alexia asked.

Y/N nodded. “More than.”

“Tell me if you need to stop.”

“I won’t,” Y/N said, “but I will tell you if I need to breathe.”

Alexia smiled against her skin. “Deal.”

——————

Afterward, they lay tangled in the mess of sheets and limbs and soft exhales, the kind of quiet that follows storms and miracles.

Y/N’s fingers traced the lines of Alexia’s forearm absently. Alexia’s hand rested on her hip, anchoring her gently. The city outside had gone quieter. No more traffic. Just the wind and the creak of old buildings settling into night.

Y/N stared at the ceiling and whispered:

“I didn’t think anyone would ever see me this way again.”

Alexia, eyes half-lidded, replied:

“I’ve only ever wanted to see you.”

Y/N blinked. “Even now?”

Alexia rolled onto her side and tucked her face into Y/N’s neck.

“Especially now,” she said.

——————

Sometime later, as they drifted toward sleep, Y/N felt the pressure in her chest return — not painful, just familiar. A reminder.

She shifted slightly, reaching for the oxygen tube clipped to the bed rail. Alexia stirred.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Y/N said. “Routine. Just topping up.”

Alexia helped her clip it in. No hesitation. No awkwardness. Just gentle fingers and a soft kiss to her temple after.

And when they settled again, limbs pressed together, oxygen line curled between them like a thread — Y/N whispered into the dark:

“You’re not scared?”

Alexia, almost asleep now, murmured:

“I’m terrified.”

Pause.

“But not of you.”

——————

Barcelona — A Week Later

The air felt heavier that morning. Like something in the sky had thickened overnight.

Y/N chalked it up to a minor flare. Maybe allergies. Maybe stress. Maybe nothing.

She ignored the fatigue at first. Skipped the nebuliser. Pushed through her meetings. Promised herself she’d nap at lunch.

But by early afternoon, her hands had started to shake.

By five o’clock, she couldn’t finish a sentence without coughing.

By six, her O2 had dropped to 86%.

By seven, she was in the emergency ward of Hospital Clínic with a mask on her face and Alexia pacing a hole into the linoleum floor just outside the treatment bay.

——————

It wasn’t dramatic. Not at first.

No sirens. No screaming. Just Y/N collapsing into a seated position on her kitchen floor after trying to stand, and Alexia catching her mid-fall.

Just the way Alexia had gently pulled her close and whispered, “We’re going now, okay? You’re not fighting me on this.”

Just the calm in Alexia’s voice when she handed the nurse her ID and said, “She has cystic fibrosis. Oxygen is dropping. She needs IV antibiotics and a chest X-ray.”

Just the way she’d known what to do. As if she’d rehearsed it.

As if she’d imagined this moment more times than she ever admitted.

——————

Now, she sat outside the room, knuckles pressed to her lips, elbows on her knees, trying not to unravel.

The hallway was too bright. Too sterile. Every minute dragged.

Eli arrived first, brisk and tired and holding a bag of food that Alexia didn’t touch.

“Any news?” she asked.

Alexia shook her head. “Still running tests. They said they’re keeping her overnight. Maybe longer.”

Eli sat beside her without speaking. Just placed a hand gently over Alexia’s — thumb brushing the knuckles.

They didn’t need words.

——————

An hour later, Alba arrived, breathless and wide-eyed.

“She’s stable,” Alexia said immediately. “It’s a pulmonary exacerbation. They’ve started antibiotics. She’s awake now, but groggy.”

“Can I see her?”

Alexia shook her head. “Not yet. One visitor at a time.”

“Have you gone in?”

Alexia hesitated. “No.”

Alba blinked. “Why?”

“I wanted her to ask for me.”

She said it like a prayer. Like superstition.

As if bursting through the door would jinx everything.

As if her presence wasn’t already stitched into the room by proximity alone.

The nurse emerged ten minutes later. “She’s asking for you.”

Alexia didn’t speak. Just stood and walked.

She didn’t rush.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink until she was inside.

The room was small. Too white. The kind of place that makes people look smaller than they are.

Y/N was propped against the pillows, cheeks pale, oxygen tubing in her nose, hair mussed. Her eyes fluttered open the moment Alexia stepped inside.

“Hola,” she rasped.

Alexia crossed the space in four quick steps and sat beside the bed, gently taking her hand.

“You scared the hell out of me,” she whispered.

Y/N gave the faintest smile. “First time?”

“Last time,” Alexia said, “if I have anything to do with it.”

Y/N winced. “It’s not your job to fix this.”

“I’m not trying to fix you.”

“Then what?”

“I’m trying to stay.”

They sat in silence for a while.

Eventually, Y/N said, “You could’ve left.”

“I did,” Alexia said. “In 2005. I left every day that you weren’t here. Every time I tied my boots the way you did. Every time I saw a left-footed midfielder and looked twice.”

Y/N closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“I know,” Alexia whispered.

“But I’m still asking you to.”

Alexia shook her head. “You’re not. Not anymore.”

——————

Eli and Alba came in later, soft-voiced and warm. They brought a sweater from Y/N’s apartment and her favourite lip balm. They kissed her forehead like she was already family.

When they left, Alexia stayed.

She curled into the chair beside the bed and held Y/N’s hand loosely — not in fear, not in desperation.

Just to be there.

Just to be real.

——————

Sometime past 3 a.m., Y/N stirred again.

“You’re still here?”

Alexia smiled sleepily. “Where else would I be?”

Y/N’s voice was rough. “You can sleep, Lexi.”

Alexia leaned in, forehead resting against Y/N’s arm. “I will. Just… let me hold this part a little longer.”

Y/N’s voice cracked. “What part?”

“The part where I still get to say we made it through the first scare together.”

And she did.

Through the beeping. Through the IVs. Through the oxygen tubing and the fatigue and the fear that sat behind both of their ribs.

She stayed.

Not because she was owed.

But because she had chosen.

——————

Sabadell — A Month Later

The gate creaked exactly the way she remembered it.

Y/N stepped out of the car slowly, one hand still curled around the frame like it was an anchor. Her breath fogged faintly in the cool morning air, though spring had already begun warming the edges of Catalonia. The field beyond the chain-link fence was overgrown — the lines faded, the goalposts lopsided, the turf a patchwork of stubborn grass and forgotten glory.

Alexia stood beside her, quiet.

“You didn’t,” Y/N whispered.

Alexia smiled, pulling a key from her hoodie pocket. “Turns out Barça still has friends here. And someone owed me a favour.”

“You rented the Sabadell pitch?”

“I restored it for a day.”

Y/N blinked. “Why?”

Alexia didn’t answer. She just tilted her head toward the field.

“Come see.”

They walked slowly. Y/N’s lungs weren’t at full capacity yet, but she was steadier now — no longer winded by a single flight of stairs. Her doctor had cleared her for light activity. No running. No risk.

But this?

This wasn’t risk.

This was home.

The pitch looked smaller than it had in her memory — the kind of place only children could make feel infinite. There were no crowds. No scoreboard. Just chalk lines redrawn by hand and a goal at each end.

In the centre circle, something waited.

Y/N stepped closer.

It was her old jersey — number 4 — laid flat on the grass. Beside it, a ball.

She looked at Alexia, heart catching.

“What is this?”

Alexia stepped forward, hands in her pockets.

“You used to say you’d retire after your best goal.”

Y/N let out a breathless laugh. “I said a lot of things.”

“I’ve waited twenty years to see you keep that one.”

——————

They stood in the centre of the pitch, the morning quiet around them. No one else was there. No cameras. No noise. Just two women and a goal and the memory of everything they lost and found again.

Y/N crouched slowly, picked up the ball, and let it rest at her feet.

Her joints ached. Her lungs pulsed. But her body remembered.

She took three steps back.

Alexia stepped aside — but not far.

Y/N gave her a look. “You’re not defending?”

Alexia grinned. “You think I’d block the goal I’ve waited two decades for?”

Y/N raised a brow. “You might.”

“Okay,” Alexia relented, “maybe just a little jog.”

Y/N rolled her eyes.

Then she turned.

And ran.

It wasn’t fast.

It wasn’t clean.

But it was hers.

A step. A flick. A shot.

————————————————————————

A/N: Thanks for reading.

#THE DRAMA ❤️❤️❤️#woso x reader #rpf x reader #alexia putellas x reader #fic rec

540 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 18 days ago

Note

Would you do a patri x kid fic x reader

Prompt: You and your wife have a day out with your daughter and tell the patri team some exciting news.

Words: 629

Warnings: nothing

A/N: IM BACCKKKK DID YOU MISS ME

It was early in the morning, you knew that, but what time it was wasn't a single clue.

But it was like this every morning.

You would be asleep next to your wife, Patri, her arm draped lazily over your waist, her face buried in the crook of your neck. snuggling in close, half awake with the morning sun in your eyes, and you would just hear the sound of little feet running down the hard wooden floor heading towards your bedroom. The bedroom door burst open with more enthusiasm than stealth, and in came your daughter, a beaming ball of energy in mismatched pyjamas, clutching her favourite stuffed animal. “Mama! Mamiiii!” she giggled, climbing up onto the bed without hesitation.

Patri groaned softly, still half-asleep, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. She cracked one eye open, catching sight of your little girl already wedging herself between the two of you. “Buenos días, princesa,” she mumbled, her voice raspy with sleep.

Your daughter snuggled in, the three of you tangled together in a warm, sleepy heap. Patri kissed your forehead, then your daughter’s, before closing her eyes again. “Mornings like this,” she whispered, “I never want to get up.”

And for once, you completely agreed.

By mid-morning, the three of you were walking into the FC Barcelona training complex. Patri had one hand in yours, the other holding your daughter’s tiny palm as she bounced along, wide-eyed at the buzz of activity.

Inside, teammates greeted you with warmth. “Look who’s here!” Alexia called, crouching down to your daughter’s height. “Our future captain!” Your daughter shyly hid behind your leg, peeking out at her “tía Alexia,” who grinned and offered a high five.

Irene walked by and ruffled your little girl’s hair. “Careful, Pat, if she hangs around here too much, she’s going to start giving team talks.” Patri smirked. “Better than some of the ones you give.” Irene rolled her eyes playfully and moved on.

During warm-up, you and your daughter sat on the sidelines, watching Patri on the pitch. Your daughter clapped every time she saw her mama touch the ball, her voice carrying across the grass: “¡Vamos, Mama!”

When training ended, Patri jogged over, still catching her breath, and scooped your daughter into her arms. “See? That’s what hard work looks like, princesa.” Your daughter beamed. “I’m going to play with you one day.”

Patri kissed her forehead, looking over at you with a proud smile. “Then we’d better keep bringing her along.” When training ended, Patri jogged over, still catching her breath, and scooped your daughter into her arms. “See? That’s what hard work looks like, princesa.” Your daughter beamed. “I’m going to play with you one day.”

Patri kissed her forehead, then looked at you with that look — the one that said it’s time.

You cleared your throat, feeling every set of eyes turn towards you as the players gathered around. “So, uh… we actually wanted to tell you all something.” Alexia tilted her head, smirking. “You’re not moving away, are you? Because we’re not letting Pat go.”

Patri shook her head, her grin growing. “No… actually, we’re adding to the family.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in — and then Mapi gasped. “You’re pregnant?!” she blurted, practically bouncing.

You laughed, nodding. “Yep. Baby number two is on the way.”

The reaction was immediate — cheers, clapping, a chorus of felicidades. Aitana hugged you so tight you could barely breathe, while Alexia kissed your daughter’s cheek and said, “You’re going to be the best big sister.”

Patri wrapped her arm around you, smiling at her teammates. “Guess we’ll have to get a second little kit ready.”

And just like that, the pitch felt even warmer — not just from the sun, but from the love surrounding your growing family

#:(#love mi patri #woso x reader #family fic #rpf x reader #patri guijarro x reader #fic rec

231 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 19 days ago

Text

Apart of Perfect Shot Series

Baby's first final/family life update

Wordcount: 5k

Having a sort through my drafts and found this I wrote two weeks ago and didn't post enjoy

The hum of the plane engine was the only thing keeping you tethered as your mind raced ahead to what was waiting in Lisbon. Sofia was curled into your side, fast asleep with her thumb tucked in her mouth, her little noise-cancelling headphones askew on her head. You smoothed her hair back gently, heart thudding with nerves not about the flight, but about the moment that was coming.

Alexia had no clue.

You hadn't breathed a word to her. Not when she called you last night sounding nervous but trying to mask it with her usual bravado. Not when Eli had checked in that morning, assuming you were home, asking you to keep Alexia calm from afar. You hadn't even told her, because if anyone was going to accidentally let it slip it would be Eli.

You wanted this to be perfect.

Alexia had spent weeks saying she didn’t want you to travel, not with your growing bump, not with Sofia to juggle, not with how exhausted you’d been lately. You knew her well enough to know that wasn’t the real reason. She didn’t want you to come because if they lost, she didn’t want you to see her heart break in real time. She didn’t want to put that on you.

But you knew Alexia, Win or lose, she needed her people and you and Sofia were her people.

You had Carla in on the secret she was meeting you at the hotel with a spare accreditation pass. She’d practically squealed when you told her your plan, already imagining Alexia’s face when she saw you.

The landing was smooth, Sofia stirring only when the tires hit the tarmac, mumbling a sleepy, “Mami?” You smiled, lifting her onto your lap, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Mami’s going to be very surprised when she sees us, princesa.”

The hotel lobby was quiet, a stark contrast to the adrenaline fuelled stadium that awaited them later. Carla had arranged everything right down to slipping you a key card for access and sending you the exact time Alexia and the team would be down for breakfast. You were grateful. The nerves sitting in your chest were growing unbearable.

Sofia was perched on your hip, her little hand clutching the collar of your shirt, eyes wide as she took in the new surroundings. She was groggy but curious, as always. You whispered in her ear, “Are you ready to surprise Mami?”

She nodded with an enthusiastic, if slightly sleepy, “Sí.”

Carla was the first to spot you from where she lingered near the breakfast buffet, filling a plate with fruit she had no intention of eating. She grinned, trying to stifle her excitement as she waved you over.

“They’re all seated already,” she whispered as you approached. “She’s sitting with Mapi, Ingrid, and Patri. Completely unaware.”

You peeked into the dining area, heart lurching at the sight of Alexia. She was leaned back in her chair, coffee in hand, listening as Patri animatedly talked with her hands. Alexia looked calm, but you could see the tension in her jaw, the way her leg bounced beneath the table.

Carla gave you a nudge. “Go on, mama bear. Go give her the shock of her life.”

You took a breath, steadied Sofia on your hip, and started walking.

It took a second, but Ingrid was the first to notice you her eyes widening as she elbowed Mapi, whispering something under her breath. Mapi’s head snapped up, a slow grin spreading across her face as her gaze flicked from you to Alexia. Patri spotted you next, her face lighting up, but Alexia was still oblivious, reading a text on her phone, completely unaware of the wave of reactions crashing around her.

You cleared your throat. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Her head snapped up immediately, brow furrowed at first, but when her eyes landed on you and Sofia, everything around her seemed to stop.

She froze.

“Mierda,” she whispered, eyes blinking as if she thought you were a mirage. “What? How?”

You couldn’t help the smile as you gently placed Sofia down. The toddler, recognising her cue, toddled straight over, arms raised high. “Mami!”

Alexia was out of her chair in an instant, crouching down as Sofia crashed into her arms. You watched her gather Sofia up, holding her so tight it was like she was anchoring herself.

“You’re here,” Alexia murmured, voice already cracking, her hand cupping Sofia’s tiny head. “I—You’re actually here.”

You stepped closer, cupping Alexia’s cheek with your free hand. “I couldn’t let you face today without us.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she smiled through them, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “You’re insane,” she whispered against you.

Around you, the girls gave the two of you a respectful bubble of space, but the emotion in the air was palpable. Patri sniffled and muttered something about hormones, Mapi just leaned back, grinning like the cat that got the cream, and Ingrid was tearing up as she watched Alexia hold Sofia close, her hand resting protectively over your bump as if to make sure her entire world was right there in her arms.

“I thought you didn’t want me to come,” you said softly.

Alexia exhaled, pressing her forehead to yours. “Of course I wanted you to come. I always do, but I didn't want you to feel you had to come, its a lot to fly with Sofia alone”

“Mami!” Sofia’s little voice interrupted, squirming in her grip. “Pan, please.”

That made Alexia laugh, a wet, choked sound that melted every bit of tension from her shoulders. She sat back, adjusting Sofia on her lap as she reached for a piece of bread, tearing it into tiny pieces for her. “This is the best surprise you’ve ever pulled,” she said, glancing up at you with a lopsided smile.

“I still have one more for you later,” you teased, heart fluttering as her curiosity peaked.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” she said with mock exasperation.

“But you love it.”

“I do.”

And as she looked around the table, her team mates all doting over Sofia, the weight of the day seemed a little less heavy on her shoulders.

You and Alexia were sat side by side, as you both watched Sofia toddling around the open space, her little feet pattering across the floor with surprising confidence.

“She’s getting brave, eh?” Alexia murmured, her hand resting lazily on your knee, thumb tracing gentle circles.

“She’s a menace,” you replied with a grin, though your heart swelled with pride. “A very cute, clever little menace.”

Sofia was in her element, with the whole squad sat around for breakfast, relaxed and chatting in groups, she had no shortage of willing victims to charm. Every time she stumbled, someone was there to scoop her back up, someone new to flash that winning smile at.

You watched as she tottered her way up to Patri, who was mid-conversation with Mapi, and immediately reached up, grabbing at the necklace Patri wore. Patri didn’t even flinch, only smiled indulgently and let Sofia play with it for a moment before gently distracting her with a soft toy Mapi had sneakily pulled from behind her back.

“She’s got them all wrapped around her finger,” you said, feeling Alexia’s laughter rumble against your side as she leaned into you.

“She gets that from you,” Alexia teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.

But Sofia wasn’t done yet, her next target was Vicky, who was sat at the far table with a small plate of banana slices she was lazily picking at. You could see Sofia’s little eyes zero in on them, her path determined and focused. She waddled over, pulling herself up onto the edge of Vicky’s knee, her tiny hand resting on Vicky’s leg as she peered up at her with the most innocent, hopeful expression.

“Oh, no. Here we go,” Alexia muttered with a grin.

Vicky looked down and immediately crumbled, unable to resist the silent request. “Ay, Sofi… you want some, pequeña?”

Sofia responded with a firm nod, lips already smacking in anticipation. Vicky laughed and picked up a slice, holding it out to her. Sofia didn’t waste a second, taking the banana and popping it straight into her mouth with a satisfied hum.

“She’s unreal,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. “She’s going to be trouble when she’s older.”

Alexia’s hand found yours, fingers lacing together. “She already is, but look how loved she is.”

You looked around the room, every single one of the girls had made Sofia feel like she belonged like she was part of this family. The ones who weren’t already fussing over her kept sneaking fond glances in her direction and Sofia thrived in it, surrounded by laughter, attention, and warmth.

“She adores them,” you said softly. “I didn’t think she’d be this confident in a room full of people. She’s fearless.”

“She gets that from me,” Alexia joked, giving your hand a playful squeeze. “But… she’s her own little person, too. Seeing her here its all I ever wanted.”

You turned to Alexia, your heart aching in the best way as you took in the soft, proud smile that curved her lips, her eyes glossy as she watched Sofia with so much love it nearly bowled you over.

“She’s perfect,” Alexia whispered, more to herself than to you.

“She’s ours,” you murmured back, leaning into her shoulder.

You both sat there for a while longer, soaking in the moment, no pressures, no upcoming final weighing on Alexia’s shoulders. Just your daughter charming an entire Champions League squad one banana slice at a time.

“She’s gonna milk that cuteness until there’s nothing left on anyone’s plates,” Alexia sighed, amused.

You smirked, placing a hand on your bump. “Let’s be honest, she’s just warming them up for the next one.”

Alexia turned, eyes twinkling as she kissed you again. “Good. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

Soon as you called out, “Sofia,” all eyes flicked toward your little girl, still sat on the floor surrounded by a handful of Alexia’s teammates.

“Si, Mama,” came her sweet, high-pitched response, her little head turning to find you. The room collectively melted.

“Oh my god,” Patri whispered dramatically, pressing a hand over her heart as if Sofia’s tiny voice had physically hit her.

“She’s too much,” Mapi added, grinning as Sofia gave you her full, undivided attention, blinking up at you with those soft brown eyes, Alexia’s eyes.

“Shall we show mami what you learned with Uncle Ricard?” you prompted, your voice lilting in that coaxing tone she loved.

Sofia’s face lit up, cheeks dimpling as she nodded enthusiastically. “Si!” she chirped.

Alexia's Uncle Ricard had been a constant male figure in Sofia’s life, often spoiling her with his famous paella anytime she so much as uttered the word dinner. The bond they’d formed was pure, and you’d found it endlessly sweet how Sofia clung to his every word when he showed her anything.

“How does mami celebrate when one of the girls scores?” you asked, casting a playful glance at Alexia, whose brow quirked with amused curiosity.

Sofia stood up, finding her balance with a little wobble before confidently marching over to where Claudia and Ingrid were sitting on the floor. Without hesitation, she reached out and gave Ingrid’s head a pat, her tiny hand bouncing off the top of Ingrid’s head.

A chorus of soft laughs and adoring awws rippled through the team as Sofia continued her little mission, walking from player to player, patting their heads in turn, some even leaning down so she could reach.

“She’s going down the line!” Ona snorted, as Sofia made her way to Patri, who ducked her head just to meet her at eye level.

“She’s really been watching you, Ale,” Vicky teased, nudging Alexia with a grin, but you weren’t done yet.

“Okay, princesa,” you cooed, patting Alexia’s thigh to make sure she was paying attention. “Then what does mami do, baby?”

Sofia spun on her heel and glanced back at you for approval before standing up straighter. With a deliberate little flourish, she tipped her imaginary hat, bowing her body and flinging her arm in front of herself, in that exact signature gesture Alexia always did after a goal.

The room erupted.

Patri fell backward dramatically onto the carpet, clutching her chest. “No, no, I’m dead. I’m actually dead.”

Mapi was up on her feet, clapping her hands. “She’s iconic, Ale!”

Even Ingrid was giggling, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “It’s like a tiny you, Ale, but cuter.”

Alexia, who hadn’t taken her eyes off Sofia for even a second, was biting her bottom lip, clearly trying and failing to fight the proudest grin and of course the tears. She looked over at you, shaking her head in disbelief, her eyes shimmering. “You two are trouble,” she murmured, leaning in to press a kiss against your temple.

But her gaze snapped back to Sofia, who was already toddling back toward her mami, beaming at the laughter she’d caused.

“Mami proud?” Sofia asked innocently, those big eyes staring up at Alexia.

Alexia didn’t hesitate, scooping her up onto her lap and showering her face in kisses. “Mami’s so proud, mi amor. You’re perfect.”

You leaned into Alexia’s side, resting your hand over her arm that was wrapped securely around Sofia. “You ready to cheer for mami and her team today Sofia?"

"BARCA!" Sofia unexpectedly yelled, making many in the room jump, then giggled at the reaction, "I do good mami?"

Alexia grinned, "You did amazing baby, you shout like that and I'll definitely hear you whilst I play"

The final whistle pierced the stadium air, and in that moment, you felt your heart sink. Barcelona had lost.

The players stood scattered across the pitch, hands on hips, heads down, some with their shirts tugged up to wipe away tears. Alexia was stood still, her gaze locked onto the ground, as if she couldn’t bear to look up and face the enormity of it all. You could feel her heartbreak, even from the stands.

Sofia was nestled against your chest, her tiny hands playing with the zipper of your jacket, oblivious to the result, but sensitive to the shift in atmosphere. The roaring crowd had quietened, the excitement dimmed, and she looked up at you with big, curious eyes.

“Mami sad?” she asked softly.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, baby. Mami’s sad.”

You could see Alba and Eli further along the row, both subdued, hearts breaking not just for Alexia, but for the whole team. You exchanged a look with Alba, who gave you a small nod. It was time to go down.

Making your way through the narrow stairways with Sofia in your arms, you couldn’t shake the nerves that gripped your stomach. You knew Alexia, she’d blame herself, she always did and you weren’t sure she’d want to face anyone right now, not even you, but you also knew Alexia. When her world was crumbling, she needed you to walk straight through the debris and hold her together.

By the time you reached the tunnel, some of the players had started to drift in, heads low, eyes red. No one stopped you, they just offered tired smiles as you passed, your presence and Sofia’s a small beacon of softness in a harsh moment.

You spotted her before she saw you.

Alexia was slumped against the wall near the entrance to the locker room, her kit stained with sweat and grass, her hair clinging to her neck. She was staring blankly ahead, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Mami!” Sofia’s voice, pure and bright, echoed down the corridor.

Alexia’s head snapped up immediately, her eyes locked onto you, in an instant, all the steeliness, all the defences she’d built up during that final half hour crumbled. Her shoulders slumped, her jaw tightened, and those shimmering, unshed tears finally broke free. She stood frozen for a second, as if unsure she deserved you being here, but you didn’t give her a choice.

You walked straight up to her, one hand gently cupping her cheek as you pressed Sofia into her arms. Alexia’s hands trembled as she took her daughter, holding her close, breathing in her scent like it was the only thing keeping her afloat.

Sofia’s little hand patted her mami’s damp cheek. “Mami no sad,” she whispered, her brow furrowed.

That was it, Alexia broke, her forehead pressed against Sofia’s, her shoulders shaking as the tears finally came, freely, unapologetically. You wrapped your arms around both of them, holding your little family together as Alexia cried silently, only the soft hiccups betraying her heartbreak.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against Sofia’s temple, though you weren’t sure who she was apologising to, her daughter, you, or herself.

“Don’t,” you murmured firmly, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “You don’t apologise for loving something this much, Alexia. You gave it everything. That’s all you ever do.”

Sofia nestled closer into Alexia’s chest, fingers curling into her kit. “Mami’s best.”

Alexia gave a wet, broken laugh, kissing the crown of Sofia’s head. “You’re too good to me, princesa.”

You wiped the streaks of mascara from under her eyes, your thumb gentle. “Let’s go, Ale. You don’t have to be strong right now. You’ve got us and your team.”

She nodded, still cradling Sofia like the most precious thing in the world.

As you walked her back towards the locker room, a few of the girls caught sight of you. Mapi was one of the first, her face softening at the sight of Alexia holding her daughter, her walls visibly lowering. One by one, the team surrounded Alexia not with noise, not with forced positivity but with presence. Quiet, steady, unwavering.

The silver medal wasn’t what they wanted, but right now, none of them would trade this moment, with their captain being reminded of the things that mattered most.

“Come on, mami,” you whispered against Alexia’s ear. “Let’s take our girl home.”

Alexia exhaled, nodding. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

The suite was quiet when you got back to the hotel, a stark contrast to the chaos of the stadium. Eli had taken Sofia for a walk around the hotel gardens to give you and Alexia some space. Alba had gone to the room she had with her mami, understanding that Alexia needed this moment to breathe.

You unlocked the door, letting Alexia step in first. She paused in the middle of the room, her eyes scanning the space like she wasn’t sure what to do now. The tension in her shoulders hadn’t eased, her jaw was still tight, lips pressed into a thin line, as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will.

You closed the door softly behind you, walking over to her, wrapping your arms gently around her waist from behind, resting your cheek against her back. She sighed a long, shaky exhale. “I failed,” she whispered, her voice raw.

“No, you didn’t,” you said into her shoulder blade. “You didn’t fail, Alexia.”

Her hands came up to cover yours where they rested on her stomach, squeezing them tightly. “I’m their captain. I’m supposed to lead them. I couldn’t even” Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t even lift them when it mattered most.”

You stepped around her, gently cupping her face, forcing her to meet your eyes. “You don’t get to carry this all on your own, Ale. You never did. You think those girls don’t know how much you gave them this season? They’d follow you into hell, and they would again tomorrow if you asked.”

Her lips trembled, and she tried to look away, but you wouldn’t let her.

“And do you know why?” you continued, your thumbs brushing away fresh tears. “Because you’re not just their captain. You’re their heart. Their soul. Even when you feel empty, you give them everything. You always have, but you don’t have to be strong right now. You’re allowed to fall apart.”

Her forehead rested against yours, her breathing shallow. “It just hurts. More than I thought it would. I thought after loosing in 2022 it wouldn't hurt this much again”

“I know,” you whispered. “But you don’t have to hurt alone.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Then she slowly sank onto the edge of the bed, pulling you down with her, her arms wrapping around your waist as she buried her face into your growing bump. You ran your fingers through her hair, soothing, as her silent tears soaked into your shirt.

There was a soft knock at the door. It creaked open, and Eli’s head poked through, Sofia perched on her hip. “Can we come in?” she asked gently.

Alexia sat up, wiping her face, and nodded.

Eli placed Sofia down, and the little girl wasted no time toddling straight over to Alexia, climbing onto her lap like she belonged there, which she did. Alexia wrapped her arms around her daughter, breathing her in like she was oxygen.

Sofia’s small hands framed her mami’s face, squishing her cheeks slightly. “Mami no sad,” she said, so earnestly that it pulled a laugh straight from Alexia’s chest.

“I’m okay, princesa,” Alexia whispered, kissing Sofia’s hands. “Because you’re here.”

Eli smiled softly, retreating to give you the space you needed. Alba appeared in the doorway with a quiet, “You good?” and Alexia gave a small, grateful nod.

As Sofia snuggled into her mami’s chest, you curled up beside them, hand resting over Alexia’s.

Tonight wasn’t the night Alexia had dreamt of, but it was still a night where she was reminded of what she’d built. What she had. What she was and that was more powerful than any trophy.

The hum of the plane engine was soft and steady, a low vibration through the cabin as the lights dimmed to a calm glow. Most of the team had fallen into an exhausted silence some dozing, others listening to music, the rest simply staring out into the inky darkness. It had been an emotionally draining night for everyone.

Alexia sat nestled into the window seat, legs stretched out slightly for balance, her arm wrapped securely around your shoulders where you leaned into her side. Sofia lay sprawled across both your laps, her small body cocooned in a fluffy blanket, thumb tucked lazily into her mouth, the other hand loosely clutching Alexia’s shirt. You, too, had drifted off, cheek resting against her shoulder, breathing soft and even.

Alexia didn’t move, she was afraid if she even so much as shifted, this perfect, quiet moment would shatter.

Her eyes flickered down to Sofia’s sleeping face, those chubby cheeks squished into her lap, a tiny furrow in her brow even in sleep. She couldn’t believe how much love could fit into something so small. Her free hand brushed softly down Sofia’s back, feeling the rise and fall of her daughter’s breathing, her heart syncing to its rhythm.

Then her gaze turned to you, your bump gently rising beneath Sofia’s blanket. The knowledge that soon, there would be another tiny human to love this fiercely it overwhelmed her, in the best possible way.

Alexia’s eyes prickled again, but this time, not with sadness. It was peace.

All season, she’d been carrying this weight on her shoulders the expectation, the pressure, the burden of leadership, but sitting here, with her entire world asleep against her, she realised none of that mattered. Trophies were beautiful, yes. Wins were euphoric. But this was joy.

Sofia stirred slightly, her head turning into Alexia’s stomach. A small smile curved Alexia’s lips as she hushed her instinctively, rocking her knees ever so slightly. She caught a glance from Mapi across the aisle who was trying to look unaffected but smiled at the sight of Alexia swaying gently with her sleeping family.

It wasn’t the season ending Alexia had envisioned, but looking down at the two of you, feeling the steady thump of your heartbeat against her side and the warmth of Sofia’s breath against her skin, she couldn’t imagine needing anything else to get through it.

She lowered her head, pressing a soft kiss to Sofia’s hair, then leaned to press another to your temple, murmuring so softly only you could hear, “I’m the luckiest woman in the world.”

You stirred, mumbling sleepily, “Hmm?”

“Nothing,” she whispered, her lips curling against your skin. “Go back to sleep, mi vida.” And as the plane hummed steadily beneath them, Alexia held her world together with both arms, perfectly content in the silence.

The sun poured gently through the sheer curtains of your living room, casting a golden glow across the soft chaos of your home. Sofia’s toys were scattered in their usual trail from the sofa to the playmat, the faint hum of a washing machine coming from down the hall.

You padded into the kitchen barefoot, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, expecting the familiar hustle of Alexia gathering her training gear or mumbling about errands, but she wasn’t there.

Instead, you found a sticky note on the coffee machine, written in her neat handwriting.

No plans today. No people. Just us. Get comfy, breakfast’s on the way. —A

You blinked, heart swelling already. It wasn’t often that Alexia could halt the world from spinning around her, but when she did it always felt like the air got easier to breathe.

Not five minutes later, the front door clicked open. Sofia, still in her pyjamas, squealed from the living room as Alexia appeared with a brown paper bag in one hand and a takeaway coffee carrier in the other.

“Mami!” Sofia rushed over, clinging to Alexia’s leg, her wild bedhead bouncing with every excited step.

“Hola, princesa.” Alexia crouched down, kissing Sofia’s cheek before looking up at you with that soft smile she reserved for moments like these. “You didn’t think I was letting today be a normal day, did you?”

You shook your head, biting back a grin as you took the coffee from her. “You’re up to something.”

“Maybe.” She wiggled her brows dramatically as she stood, brushing Sofia’s hair back. “But first, you’re going to sit. We’re going to eat. And then…” She glanced at the growing bump beneath your shirt with a soft smirk. “We’re going to spend the whole day not thinking about football or anything except this family.”

You knew better than to argue.

Breakfast was simple pastries from your favourite bakery, fresh fruit Sofia kept sneaking off your plate, and the richest, silkiest coffee you’d had in weeks. Alexia didn’t rush you once, not when you lingered at the table long after Sofia had abandoned her banana for blocks, not when you leaned into her, enjoying the quiet.

The rest of the morning was exactly as Alexia had promised.

Pajamas stayed on. Phones were tossed into a drawer. The television remained off. You built pillow forts with Sofia in the living room, Alexia crawling in behind her like a big kid, her laughter echoing in the soft afternoon light. You both giggled as Sofia declared it “Mami’s castle” before crawling into your lap, content as you braided her messy curls.

By midday, Alexia had pulled you onto the balcony with a soft blanket, Sofia napping soundly inside, her head resting on her stuffed football. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, your head resting against Alexia’s shoulder as her hand drew lazy circles over your bump.

“She’s getting big,” you murmured, glancing down.

“She’s perfect,” Alexia whispered, pressing her lips to your temple. “Both of you are.”

There was no need for grand plans today, no fancy gestures, this just existing, just being together without the pressure of performing for anyone else was enough.

As the afternoon bled into a warm, golden evening, Sofia woke, toddled straight into Alexia’s arms, and the three of you curled onto the sofa, tangled in blankets. The world outside could spin as fast and as loud as it wanted. Today, it couldn’t touch you.

“Best day ever,” you murmured sleepily.

Alexia smiled, kissing the top of your head. “We’re just getting started.”

Eli and Alba arrived in their usual whirlwind arms full of takeaway bags, Alba loudly announcing that she’d brought enough food to feed a small army. You couldn’t help but smile at the familiar chaos as they breezed through the door, Eli tutting at Alba’s dramatics while she set the food down on the kitchen counter.

“You are spoiled, you know that, right?” Alba teased, ruffling Sofia’s hair as the toddler clung to your leg.

“You’re the one who brought enough for a football team,” you quipped back, taking the bags from Eli with a grateful smile.

Dinner was loud, as it always was when the four of you were together Alba telling stories, Eli fussing over Sofia’s eating habits, Alexia’s hand never leaving your thigh beneath the table. The conversation was light and easy until Eli, in true mother-in-law fashion, dropped the inevitable question.

“So… have you two decided on a name for baby number two yet?” Her eyes twinkled, though you could see the genuine curiosity behind her smile.

You and Alexia exchanged a look one you’d shared a dozen times over the past few weeks whenever this question came up, a silent agreement, a mutual shrug.

“No,” Alexia sighed, leaning back in her chair. “We keep circling names but nothing feels right.”

Eli’s brow arched. “You’re running out of time, hija.”

Alba, never one to miss an opportunity for dramatics, leaned in over the table. “Maybe Sofia should decide. She’s the big sister, after all.”

Sofia, busy smushing a piece of bread into her juice, perked up at the sound of her name. Eli turned to her with a gentle smile, “Sofia, cariño, what do you think your baby sister should be called?”

Sofia beamed, clearly loving the attention. “Ummm… Chocolate!” she declared proudly, as if she’d cracked the code.

Alba howled with laughter while Eli smiled patiently. “That’s a good one, princesa, but maybe something else?”

Sofia nodded once with enthusiasm. “Pepa Pig.”

You buried your face in your hands, laughing, as Alexia’s head dropped, her body shaking with silent giggles. “She’s definitely your daughter,” Alexia murmured.

Alba was already snickering, “I mean, it has a ring to it. Pepa Pig Putellas”

You leaned over to Sofia’s level, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Princesa, what would you call your baby sister if mama and mami, let you name her, not being silly?”

Sofia’s brow furrowed in that same determined way Alexia’s did when she was focused. She looked up at you with those big, earnest eyes and said softly, “Isabella.”

Time stopped.

You felt Alexia’s hand still on your leg, her grip tightening as your heads snapped to look at each other. It was the first name in months that didn’t feel like a maybe, or a placeholder, or something you’d grow into. It just felt right, like it had been waiting for Sofia to give it life.

“Isabella,” Alexia repeated, her lips curving into a soft smile, her voice like a breath. "Sofia and Isabella"

You reached for her hand, your eyes locking in silent agreement. “I love it,” you whispered.

Eli’s hand came to her chest, clearly emotional, while Alba blinked, clearly surprised, before grinning. “Sofia, you little genius,” she teased, ruffling her curls again.

Sofia beamed, proud of her important contribution, having no clue she’d just named her baby sister.

“Isabella it is,” Alexia said, pressing a kiss to Sofia’s head and just like that baby number two, she had a name.

#😭😭😭#so much love #alexia putellas x reader #rpf x reader #woso x reader #fic rec #family fic

418 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 21 days ago

Text

Surprise!

alexia putellas x reader

summary: you and your son surprise alexia at the euros match against belgium.

cap pulled low, you made your way into the stadium in thun, weaving through the masses of people as you tried to find your seats. a few of them seemed to recognize you, their eyes lingering a moment too long as they followed your figure, but you kept your gaze forward.

most days, you didn't mind the attention too much. you had accepted long ago that it was part of being an actress. but when your son was with you, you cursed the fame.

"mamaaa, hurry! we're gonna miss the start!", luca whined while tugging on your hand with all the impatience of a five-year-old. you let out a quiet chuckle and tightened your grip on his hand.

"calm down. we still have...", you quickly glanced at your watch, "...30 minutes before kickoff."

still, he kept pulling you forward with urgency and you knew nothing you said would slow him down. he was far too excited for that.

because alexia didn't know you would be here today.

you hadn't planned on coming to switzerland just yet; you should have been on set still. but the shoot finished early and with luca's voice in your ear every day since, pleading you to fly to switzerland already, you didn't have the heart to keep saying no. and why should you? it's been nearly a month now since you had last seen alexia in person and you missed her. luca missed her even more. the facetime calls just weren't enough anymore.

so, you packed your bags. you booked the flight and the hotel. and now here you were.

as you made your way down the steps, you let your gaze sweep over the stands, slowly filling with more and more people. eyes drifting lower, you could see the belgian players on the pitch just starting their warm-up. there was no sign of spain yet.

"here we are.", you said once you finally reached your seats.

while you sat down, luca remained standing beside you, his eyes fixed on something further down. when the five-year-old turned to you with this hopeful look on his face, you raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"can i please go down there?", he asked, pointing toward the barrier. "i want to see mami when she comes out."

there was a small crowd already, fans clutching flags and jerseys of their favourite players, phones at the ready to capture the team's entrance.

"okay.", you said, which earned you a blinding smile. "but," you added, stopping luca just before he could run off, "you have to be careful and you stay where i can see you. got it?"

"yes, mama."

you watched as he quickly skipped down the steps, ducking under someone's arm to get right to the front of the barrier. with your focus solely on your son, you nearly missed the spanish players making their way onto the pitch. but the fans' cheering as the team came out made your eyes snap up. just in time to see alexia walk out.

after a whole month of only seeing her face on a screen, you drank in the sight of your girlfriend. her hair, almost fully brunette now, was pulled up in her usual ponytail. the sleeveless training top hugged her form just right, showing off toned arms. eyes drifting lower, you caught the way the muscles in her legs shifted with every step she took.

alexia looked good; too good. the kind of good that had your thoughts wander somewhere they probably shouldn't in public. you shifted slightly in your seat, teeth grazing your bottom lip before you caught yourself. god, get yourself together.

"mami!" you suddenly heard a very familar voice call out over the noise of the crowd, bringing you back into the moment.

alexia's head shot up, having clearly recognized the voice as well. her eyes quickly found luca in the crowd, pressed against the barrier. the boy was hard to miss with the way he jumped up and down, waving his arms around wildly. when luca noticed alexia's eyes on him, the biggest smile bloomed on his face. alexia, on the other hand, was rooted to the spot, her mouth parted slightly as her eyes stayed locked on the five-year-old.

luca was here. which could only mean that you were here, too.

she quickly scanned the crowd. it took her a while, but she found you, seated a little further back. you were alreadly looking at her, watching her reaction. it took her a moment to react, needing time to process what she was seeing. you were really here.

when her brain finally caught up, alexia couldn't fight the smile tugging at her lips. she subtly shook her head in disbelief, eyes flicking between you and luca.

she could have stayed there for hours, frozen in that moment, if it weren't for someone gripping her shoulder.

"vamos, ale!", came patri's voice as she pulled the vice-captain along.

alexia gave a last wave toward the stands, toward you, and then blew a kiss to luca before turning her focus back to the pitch.

the next two hours flew by in a blur.

luca was on the edge of his seat, cheering along with the crowd. while his eyes followed the ball, yours were fixed on your girlfriend. you watched as she moved across the field with such ease, reading the game and seemingly always one step ahead. when she scored the first goal, your son practically launched out of his seat, fists in the air as he shouted, "vamos!", at the top of his lungs.

by the time the final whistle blew, the scoreboard read 6-2 for spain. a dominant performance. luca sat beside you, chattering your ear off about the game. you tried to listen, nodding along to his words, but part of you was focused elsewhere.

alexia was on the pitch, looking around her with a smile on her face. she looked genuinely happy. rightly so, it wasn't everyday that someone racked up 2 goals and 2 assists in one game. but for you, it was more than that. watching her on the pitch during the match, you could see and feel the pure joy she had found in playing again.

"...and then bam...she just kicked it and it went in...sooo cool." you caught the tail end of luca's sentence, tuning back in just in time to hear the question. "mami's the best, right?"

your eyes found his expectant face, his cheeks flushed from all the excitement of the match. a soft smile crept onto your lips; you loved how much he looked up to alexia. "she really is.", you replied, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

the five-year-old let out an annoyed huff, pushing your hand away as he tried to smooth it back down. you laughed softly, fighting the urge to do it again just to mess with him. instead, you took a glance around the stadium. the crowd had visibly thinned. a few people had gathered at the barrier where a few players were already signing shirts and taking pictures. a little further back, you spotted alexia making her way toward the fans.

even though you already knew the answer, you asked, "do you want to go down?" the words had barely left your mouth when luca nodded eagerly, jumping up from his seat. you grabbed your bag from under yours and followed luca down the steps.

while you waited for alexia, some of the barça girls spotted you near the edge of the crowd and came over to say a quick hello. vicky, after exchanging a few words, even gave luca her shirt, which left him grinning from ear to ear.

all the while, alexia slowly made her way down the line, signing autographs and posing for photos. every now and then, her eyes glanced toward you.

the closer she got, the more restless your son became. his eyes were solely fixed on his mami, completely ignoring patri in front of you. you threw her an apologetic smile, apologizing, but she just waved you off and gave you one last hug before heading inside.

luca shifted on his feet, leaning forward to better see alexia. and then, after a few more minutes, alexia finally, finally, was there, stood before you.

the moment she was within reach, luca launched himself forward, his small body colliding with the barrier as he threw his arms around alexia's waist. his fingers gripped her shirt, trying to get even closer. alexia, now awkwardly pressed against the metal, didn't seem to care in the slightest. instead, she leaned over as best as she could and hugged him tightly, pressing a kiss onto his brown curls.

"hola, mi niño.", she murmured, her voice low and gentle in the way she only ever was with him.

he mumbled a small hello, his face tucked into her chest. you watched as his entire body seemed to relax in alexia's arms. all the pent-up energy from sitting around for so long and the excitement from the game melted away in seconds. it had always been like that - from the moment he was born, alexia was his safe place; his calm.

then, her eyes met yours.

"i missed you, mi amor.", she said, shifting slightly on her feet. still holding luca close with one arm, she reached out with the other and let it slip around your waist, drawing you into a side hug.

you didn't care about the sweat still clinging to her body; you leaned in close, burying your face in the crook of her neck, and breathed her in. "i missed you, too."

too soon, you let go, wishing for so much more. you wanted to hold her, you wanted to kiss her until the world faded away. when you looked at her again, you recognized the same longing in her eyes. both of you wanted more, but this was neither the time nor the place; the hug was all you could have for now.

"how are you here? you should be filming." you smiled at seeing the furrow of her eyebrows. "the shoot wrapped early. and we wanted to surprise you.", you told her. "it was my idea!" luca chimed in and looked proudly at your girlfriend.

you laughed, brushing your hand over his curls. "you're right. without you, we wouldn't be here."

"the best surprise.", alexia said, her voice having taken on a softer tone.

"did you like the game?" the footballer glanced down at luca, who was still holding on to her tightly. the five-year-old leaned back slightly, just enough to look at her, and nodded his head. "sí. it was really, really cool.", he said. "you were the best, mami."

alexia smiled. not the small, reserved one the public usually got. no, this one lit up her whole face. it cracked the mask she put on and let her softer side show, the one only a few select people got to see.

"gracias, cariño", she said, cupping his cheek gently, "but the whole team played really well. it wasn't just me."

typical alexia, you thought, always so humble.

before she could say anything else, a voice called out behind her. "ale!"

irene stood near the tunnel, giving you and luca a quick wave before addressing alexia. "tenemos que irnos ya." alexia let out a sigh, but gave a small nod. "dame cinco minutos, porfa."

with that, she focused back on you, looking apologetic, and took your hand in hers, fingers curling tightly around yours as if she didn't want to ever let go. "where are you staying?" her tone had taken on an urgency, aware of the time ticking by. "not far from here. it's ,like, 10 minutes away."

she nodded to herself, clearly thinking about something. you were about to ask, but she beat you to it. "and what are you doing tomorrow?" slowly, you got an idea of what your girlfriend was leading up to, but she was dancing around it, her shy side having taken over. your smile widened at the realisation, as this alexia was your favourite.

"hm, i don't really know. we haven't planned anything." the footballer stayed quiet for a moment, her fingers absentmindedly combing through luca's hair.

"maybe...you come to lausanne. we can spend the day together." luca's head shot up. "yes! please, mama. can we?"', he blurted out. you looked between them, both having the same pleading look on their face. your lips twitched. "now that's unfair. how could i ever say no to those eyes?"

they both beamed at your words, and alexia squeezed your hand in response, thumb brushing over your skin.

she leaned in, hugging you one last time, and left a short kiss on your cheek. then she bent down and pressed her lips to luca's hair, who stretched up and planted his own kiss on her cheek.

reluctantly, she let him go, though her hand came to rest on his shoulder as if wanting to feel him close for just a moment longer. her smile softened. "te quiero."

"i love you.", you replied without hesitation.

"i love you!" luca piped up. "to the moon and to the stars and back again."

alexia's eyes turned impossibly tender, shining brightly, full of love. she gave you both one last longing look before heading toward the tunnel, glancing over her shoulder every few steps.

you watched her go until she disappeared from view. only then did you turn to luca, catching him mid-yawn. smiling, you draped an arm around his shoulders. "come on, baby. let's get you to the hotel."

#:(#family fic #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #rpf x reader #fic rec

645 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 21 days ago

Text

Unplanned Part 2

Warnings: Smut, GP!Character, Pregnancy

Word Count: 10686

Summary: A weekend away at VidCon leaves you and Angela the perfect opportunity to announce your relationship and pregnancy

Author's Note: Sorry this didn't go up sooner, I got stuck on the other thing that I was writing, and I wanted to have that done before I posted this.

In the few months that have passed since you and Angela confessed your feelings and got on the same page about your pregnancy, so much has changed. The first major thing that is different is getting to call the other mother of your baby your girlfriend. You had wanted to make things official the night you made up, but she had insisted on taking you out on a proper date first. Over all, you’re very glad that you waited, because she made the whole night so incredibly romantic before asking you to be hers with a bouquet of roses.

The second major thing that has changed is that both of you have stopped taking on side projects, deciding to pour all of your focus into Smosh and the baby. You’ve canceled a few of your upcoming comedy shows, and Angela has decided not to audition for Starkid’s latest production, as it would be on stage very close to your due date. At first, you had been hesitant about her making such a big sacrifice, but she had convinced you by promising to return to stage acting after the baby is born.

Your body is third and final on the list of major things that have changed. Of course, you knew it would happen, but it’s been getting harder and harder to hide the baby bump that is slowly but surely starting to form. It’s growth has you relegated to baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirts, a far cry from your usual wardrobe. The castmates who don’t yet know about your pregnancy are starting to get curious about your sudden change in style, and at this point, you are sure that one of them is going to guess what’s up any day now.

At least the announcement is just two days away at this point, with the plan set for the second day of VidCon. The “Am I The Asshole” post is already submitted, and Ian, who has been let into your circle of trust, has ensured that it’ll make the final list of posts that will be read during the panel part of the convention. Now all that you have to do is make it through the next forty eight hours, which shouldn’t be too hard with your busy schedule leaving you little time to worry.

“Are you ready for this?” Angela asks, putting the car in park.

“Yes,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt but making no move to get out of the car. “I can’t wait for this to finally be out in the open. Our friends have been so suspicious.”

“I know. Courtney has been looking at you like she’s trying to solve a puzzle for two weeks now.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. I feel so bad that we haven’t told them. They’re our friends.”

“And they’ll understand,” Angela says, reaching over to take your hand. “Besides, they’re gonna love the surprise.”

“I hope so.”

“They will.”

“I love you,” you say, sighing softly.

“I love you, too. Come on. Just two more days, and we won’t have to hide anything anymore.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Me either,” Angela says softly. “Now, are you ready to head inside?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Turning in your seat, you reach into the back seat and grab your backpack before opening the door and climbing out of the car. As you head around to the back, you see that Angela already has all of your bags out. You grab your suitcase as she shuts the trunk, then you both head off towards the hotel entrance. After stopping at the concierge to check in and get your keys, you take the elevator up to your floor and head down the hall to your room.

Angela scans the card against the reader and then opens the door, letting you in first. As you walk in, you glance around, taking in the little kitchenette and living area that are laid out in front of you. Off to the right, you see an open set of double doors, so you head through them to find the bedroom, which has one king sized bed instead of the two doubles that you had been expecting.

“How did you swing this with HR?” you ask, looking back as Angela walks in.

“I didn’t,” your girlfriend replies. “Must have been Ian.”

“Well, thank you, boss.”

“Yeah. So, we have an hour until dinner. Wanna unpack then put on Forensic Files and cuddle?”

“Do we have to unpack?” you ask, pouting.

“Yes, baby. We aren’t going to want to do it later.”

“Fine, you make a good point. Let’s go. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I get to be in your arms.”

It takes no more than ten minutes for you to empty your suitcase into both the dresser and the closet, and as soon as you finish, you find yourself climbing into bed. Angela joins you a few minutes later, and you put the TV on, flipping through the guide to find your go to show. Once it’s on, you put the remote on the side table and curl up into your girlfriend. You are just starting to doze off when the clock strikes 6:45, and you groan when you realize it’s time for dinner.

“Do we have to go?” you ask, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“We really should,” Angela replies, stoking your back tenderly. “It’ll be suspicious if we both don’t show up, and I don’t wanna leave you in here alone.”

“Fine.”

Groaning, you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed, then slowly stand up, making sure not to go too fast. Ever since the end of your first trimester, your blood pressure has been a little low, leading to headrushes if you’re too fast in standing up. Once you’re sure your vision isn’t going to suddenly black out, you slip on your shoes and head to the hotel room door with your girlfriend.

The walk down to the hotel restaurant doesn’t take long, and soon you find yourself scanning the dining room for your castmates. You find them at a long table near the back, so you go and join them, taking the free seat next to Shayne while Angela scoots in next to you. Ian is going over the schedule for the weekend with everyone who’s there, so you tune in to find out if there’s anything important that wasn’t covered in the email.

“We’ve got photos tomorrow at 10:00, then autos at 1:00. We break for dinner at 4:00, then we have to head over to RISE for karaoke.”

“Is everyone going to that?” Trevor asks.

“Everyone has the option to, but I don’t know how big the venue is, so it might be better if some of us don’t. We’re only required to have six of the main cast attend, so it’s not a big deal a few people skip out.”

“I think I might pass,” Keith says.

“Same,” Noah adds. “I’m not much of a singer.”

“Do you want to skip it?” Angela asks quietly, leaning into your ear so that no one overhears. “You know Chanse and Amanda are gonna go, Shayne is wherever Court is, and Ian and Anthony kind of have to, so we can stay in if you want.”

“Nah, I think it’ll be fun to go,” you whisper back. “We’ll just have to come up with an excuse for me not drinking.”

“We can just say we’re doing a dry month challenge if anybody asks. It’s not like people with think anything of it.”

“You don’t have to not drink just because I can’t.”

“Babe, if you’re sober, I’m sober,” Angela says softly. “It’s that simple.”

“Fuck, I really wanna kiss you,” you murmur.

“Later. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Okay, so Keith, Noah, Trevor, Damien, and Olivia are out,” you hear Ian say as you tune back into the conversation at the table. “Is everyone else in? Y/N? Ange?”

“I’m in,” you reply easily.

“Same,” Angela adds. “It sounds like it’ll be a good time, so.”

“Cool,” Ian says. “So that means we’ll have eleven people there, plus whatever crew members decide they want to join.”

“Perfect,” Anthony replies. “After that, the only event we’ll have left is the panel on Sunday morning.”

“What time does that start?” Courtney asks.

“11:00, but they want us down there for prep at 10:15.”

“And we’ll be sending out reminders in the group chat for everybody as well,” Ian says. “That way we’re all on the same page.”

With the schedule for the next few days reviewed, Anthony calls the waiter over to the table so that everyone can get drinks. It only takes a few minutes for them to arrive, and then they’re putting in food orders and getting back into casual conversation. You end up being practically interrogated by Courtney, who asks you in a million different ways if you’re feeling okay, but you manage to dodge saying anything to incriminating.

After about twenty minutes of sidestepping questions from your castmate, the food arrives and you’re finally granted a reprieve. You end up inhaling your mac and cheese in less than five minutes, and with plenty of room left, you decide to order dessert. The chocolate cake you end up getting is delicious, but you can’t finish it, so you offer your girlfriend the last couple of bites.

Once you are finished and Anthony takes care of the bill with the company credit card, everyone starts to split off in their own directions. A couple of your castmates are end up deciding to head to a bar down the street, but you and Angela decide to just head back up to your room and pack it in for the night. It doesn’t take long for you both to get ready for bed, and soon enough you’re cuddled up under the blankets, falling asleep to another episode of Forensic Files.

—

Being woken up by a blaring alarm at 8:30 the next morning is hard. You’ve been requiring more sleep lately, and even though you went to bed early last night, it seems as though your body has decided that you didn’t get enough rest. Groaning, you reach over to the side table and smack at your phone blindly, letting out a sigh of relief when the jarring beeping that woke you up cuts off.

“Please tell me that isn’t our breakfast alarm,” Angela says, her voice husky with sleep.

“Afraid so,” you reply, rolling over to look at your girlfriend. “Morning.”

“Morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Good, but I feel like I could easily go back. You?”

“Same,” Angela replies. “It’s like no matter how much sleep I get lately, I could always use more.”

“Maybe you’re having sympathy exhaustion,” you joke.

“Maybe. But as much as I want to go back to bed, we really should get up and start getting ready. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Sighing, you climb slowly out of bed and head over to the dresser, trying to figure out what you’re going to wear today. After a couple of minutes spent in debate, you decide on a pair of low rise jeans and a patterned collared shirt that you’d stolen out of Angela’s closet. You grab a matching bra and panty set as well, then head off into the bathroom to get a jumpstart on getting ready.

After deciding that it’s probably a bad idea for you and Angela to shower together, you get first crack at the hot water. It barely takes you five minutes to wash up, and then you’re toweling off as Angela takes her turn. Not wanting to get dressed all the way yet, you settle for putting your bra and panties on before getting to work. You spend the next ten minutes doing your hair, and then you climb up on the counter to do your makeup.

As you start to apply your eye liner, you hear the shower turn off and the curtain get pulled open. You adjust your glance so that you can see over your shoulder in the mirror, and swallow hard when you see Angela step out with nothing on. Your eyes stay completely focused on her as she grabs a clean towel and starts drying off. As she finishes, she looks up and catches your eye in the mirror.

Before you can say anything, Angela shoots you a smirk and a wink, an action that she knows you’re weak for. A jolt of arousal hits you straight in the core, and you suddenly find yourself wishing that you didn’t have to go to breakfast. Unfortunately though, you do, so you finish putting on your eyeliner and then climb off the counter to finish getting dressed.

Once you and Angela are finished getting ready, you head down to the hotel lobby where everyone is meeting. Since you’re having breakfast at the convention center this morning, Ian had decided that it would be best to walk there together, that way no one has to figure out how to get there by themselves. As it turns out, you and Angela are the last ones to arrive, so everyone heads out as soon as you get there.

The walk to the convention center takes five minutes, and from there you find yourself in a large meeting hall with a bunch of tables and a buffet set up. A bunch of other creators are there mingling, but you decide to stick close to your friends for now, not really feeling up to tapping into your social energy yet. Instead, you and Angela find a table and put down your bags, then head up to the buffet.

After grabbing what feels like a mountain of food, you head back to your seats to find Amanda and Chanse already digging in. You gladly join them, spending the next hour and a half alternating between shoveling food into your mouth and talking shit with your friends. About halfway through the meal, MacDoesIt joins you, and the laughs get even louder. Time ends up flying, and before you know it, Smosh’s handler is calling for everyone to head out.

With photos being the first thing on the agenda today, it’s no surprise when you end up in a room that has been converted into a studio. As you walk in, the handler ushers everyone onto the main stage, where you begin posing for some cast only pictures. The photographers get a couple of different shots, then when they’re done, fans begin to get ushered in and you start taking photos with them.

After an hour and a half of standing in the same place and posing for the exact same picture a hundred times, you find yourself getting impatient and irritated. You’re trying not to let it show on your face, but you know that as time has gone on, your smile has gotten faker and faker. Just as you’re about to ask the handler for a break, they make an announcement over the intercom for last call.

Three photos later, and you’re being hustled back to where you had breakfast, only now there are trays of sandwiches and bowls of salad placed out for everyone. Still kind of full from breakfast, you and Angela decide to grab a chicken caesar wrap to split, then head back to the table you sat at this morning. This time, Shayne and Courtney join you, and you end up talking about the plans for karaoke tonight.

Before you know it, it’s time for the autograph session, and you again find yourself being herded into a large ballroom with the rest of your castmates. As soon as you walk inside, a cheer erupts from the group of waiting fans. A smile tugs at your lips as you look around, taking everything in as you are led to a long table at the back of the room.

When you reach your seat, you sit down, looking briefly over your shoulder to nod at the security guard behind you before turning you attention back to the scene in front of you. A woman who clearly is working the convention come around, placing down stacks of headshots in front of people before heading over to the handler and whispering something in their ear. Just a minute later, lines start forming in front of the tables and everything is off to the races.

Signing autographs turns out to be more exhausting than taking photos was. Your hand ends up starting to cramp ten minutes in, and you run out of anything original to say after the first five fans. Luckily they don’t seem to mind, and are just excited to get to meet everyone, which you really appreciate. It takes some of the pressure off of the interactions, and you end up loosening up as time goes on.

After the first hour of signing, the crowd starts to thin out, with only a few stragglers lining up here and there. Honestly, you’re grateful for the break and end up taking the opportunity to catch up with Chanse. Amanda and Angela join you after a little bit, and you end up getting to chat for a solid forty five minutes with minimal interruptions before the crowd picks up again.

As you start slowly but surely making your way through your line again, you catch a whiff of something that immediately makes your stomach turn. You try your best to ignore it, but the more autographs you sign, the worse it gets. As the last girl in your line comes up to your table, a powerful wave of the scent hits you smack in the face. You sign the Smosh calender she hands you as quickly as possible, then get up to see if there’s anywhere you can take a breather.

“Where is the bathroom?” you ask the security guard behind you, trying your best to keep the nausea at bay.

“I can take you,” he says politely. “Follow me.”

The guard leads you along the back wall and then out a side door, before turning right and starting down the corridor. As soon as you see the sign for the bathrooms, you practically run down the hallway, not waiting for your escort. You rip the door open and slam it shut behind you, immediately head for the toilet and spilling your guts. In the head rush that always comes with throwing up, you thank God that this happens to be a single person bathroom.

After sitting beside the toilet for a minute to catch your breath, and to make sure that nothing else is going to come up, you get up and head over to the sink to rinse your mouth and wash your face. As you’re drying yourself off, you hear the sound of raised voices coming from outside the bathroom. Frowning, you throw away the paper towels, then open the door to step outside. You immediately see Chanse squared up with the security guard, his face red with anger.

“The bathroom is occupied,” the guard explains calmly.

“I know, my friend is in there!” Chanse says exasperatedly. “I need to check on-” He cuts himself off when he sees that you’ve opened the door. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine now, I’ll explain in here,” you reply, smiling softly at his concern before turning your attention to the guard. “Is it alright if he comes in here with me? I need his help with something.” The security guard looks at you skeptically, and you roll your eyes. “We’re both gay, it’s not like we’re gonna fuck.”

“Fine,” the man says, his cheeks tinting pink. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”

“Thank you.”

You open the door wider, and Chanse slips inside. As soon as he’s clear, you push it closed again and lock it before letting out a deep sigh of relief. When you turn around, you see your best friend looking you up and down with an edge of concern in his eyes, clearly not convinced that you actually are alright.

“Chanse, I’m good, I swear,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his arm in reassurance. “I caught a whiff of something that one of the fans was wearing, I don’t know if it was perfume or what, but it made me nauseous. I didn’t wanna puke at the table, hence me running away to the bathroom.”

“Are you sure it was just the perfume?” Chanse asks anxiously. “You haven’t had morning sickness in a while, maybe we should call your doctor just to be sure?”

“I’m fine, Chanse. Really. But thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“Always. Even if I have to fight a buff security guard.”

“That’s why you’re going to make an amazing Godfather,” you says with a teary chuckle.

“Me?” Chanse says, his jaw going slack in surprise. “Really?”

“Of course. There’s nobody Ange and I trust more.”

“Okay, I love this and I love you, but I have to pack it away right now so I don’t end up crying in front of our fans.” He reaches up and brushes the tears from the corners of his eyes before refocusing. “Is there anything you need? I mean, you threw up, so I assume you wanna brush your teeth.”

“Yes, please. And I’d love to get this damn smell out of my nose. Do you mind running out and grabbing my bag for me? And Angela, if she’s free?”

“Of course.”

Chanse opens the door and walks out, shooting a glare at the security guard as he passes him. You roll your eyes as you step out of the bathroom, watching him head back the towards the ballroom. The clearing of a throat next to you grabs your attention, and you look over to see the security guard looking at you expectantly.

“Are you ready to head back, Miss?”

“He’s actually coming back, he’s just grabbing something for me,” you reply. “Lady problems, you know how it is.”

“Of course,” the guard says, clearing his throat awkwardly.

It only takes a few minutes for Chanse to return, this time with your backpack slung over your shoulder and Angela at his side. As soon as they reach you, you usher them into the bathroom, then shut the door and lock it behind you. Sighing in relief, you turn around only to find yourself being wrapped up in a gentle but firm hug by your girlfriend.

“Chanse told me you were sick,” Angela murmurs into your neck. “Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” you say, moving your hand up to scratch your girlfriend’s scalp soothingly. “Just a little nausea, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Good. What do you need?”

“Well first I need to brush my teeth.”

Nodding, Angela turns around and grabs the bag that Chanse is already holding out for her. She goes into the front pocket and grabs your toothbrush and toothpaste, then hands them to you. You take them gratefully, then turn towards the sink and get to work. After a thorough brush, you put your stuff away and put your backpack on the ground, before taking a few steps towards your girlfriend and wrapping her in a hug.

“What’s this for?” Angela asks, surprised.

“I love you,” you murmur, burying your face in her neck and breathing in. “And I can’t get the smell of that perfume out of my nose, and you smell good.”

“That’s gay,” Chanse says, reminding you that he’s here.

“Shut up, so are you,” Angela retorts.

“Touché.”

“Ugh,” you groan, rolling your eyes at your friend’s antics before taking one last deep breath. “As much as I’d love to stay here for the rest of the day, we really should head back.”

“We should,” Angela says as she detangles herself from you. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much.”

“Good,” Chanse says, unlocking and opening the door. “Let’s get back, then.”

“Everything all good?” the security guard asks as the three of you exit the bathroom.

“Yep, all good!” you say. “Thank you.”

“Excellent,” he replies, then turns and starts the walk back to the ballroom. “If you’ll follow me.”

“How many queers does it take to put in a tampon,” Chanse says under his breath as you guys start walking.

Both you and Angela burst out laughing, earning an over the shoulder glance from the security guard. He looks so confused that you end up laughing harder, which makes Chanse start laughing, and soon you’re all in hysterics. By the time you get back to the door that leads into the ballroom, you all have tears streaming down your faces. You take a minute to compose yourselves, then you head back in for the last half an hour of signing autographs.

After what feels like five seconds, the handler is announcing last call, and then you are being led out of the ballroom. You end up back in the buffet room for the third time today, but this time you just regroup with everyone before heading out of the convention center and down the street to the restaurant that Ian made reservations for the cast at. It looks a bit sketchy on the outside, but as soon as you make your way in, you realize that it’s actually pretty upscale.

Dinner turns out to be a pretty calm affair, with most people drained from the social activity of the day and conserving what little they have left for karaoke. That is more than fine by you, because honestly you could really use a nap right about now. As dessert starts to come around, the cast members that are going to the event later start discussing what to do in the hour and a half before you have to be at the venue.

“I mean, we could go back to the hotel?” Spencer suggests, looking hopeful.

“Or we could hit up the bar early,” Courtney counters. “If I go back to the hotel, I’m not going back out.”

“Same,” Tommy says. “As soon as I sit down on my bed, I’m done for.”

“Well, we could always split up?” Shayne suggests.

“Honestly, it’s probably better to stick together,” Spencer says. “I’m fine with heading over to the bar early. Everyone else cool with that?”

As most of the cast nods in agreement, you look over at Angela, silently trying to communicate that you would really like to go back to the hotel to get some rest. She nods in understanding, then looks down to the other end of the table to try to catch Ian’s attention. When she does, she subtly nods at you, and he looks confused for a minute before he finally gets what she’s saying and he nods back.

“I actually have a few things that I need to get done for tomorrow, and I need Y/N and Angela for that,” Ian says. “How about you guys go ahead, and the three of us will meet you there at 6:45.”

“Sure,” Anthony says, looking a little confused but accepting the change in plans easily. “I can take care of the check if you wanna go get a head start.”

“Yeah, that’s actually a great idea.”

“Cool. So we’ll see you there at 6:45. I’ll text you at 6:30 to remind you that you need to get going.”

“Perfect,” Ian says thankfully before turning his attention to you and Angela. “You guys ready to head out?”

You and Angela both nod, then stand up to follow your boss out of the restaurant. The street is crowded outside, so you move quickly through the people standing around, hoping not to be recognized. In the end, you make it back to the hotel without any incidents, which you are very grateful for. As soon as you make it inside, Ian brings you over to a quiet section of the lobby,then looks around briefly before focusing his attention on you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “I saw that you had to leave signing for a couple of minutes. Chanse filled me in, but I just want to make sure you’re still okay for tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you answer honestly. “Just a momentary bout of nausea, but I’m feeling better.”

“Okay, good. So look, obviously I don’t actually need you guys for anything, so you guys should head up to your room to rest for a bit. I’ll be knocking on your door at 6:30, so you have about an hour and fifteen minutes before you need to be ready to go. Sound good?”

“Perfect,” Angela says. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you echo. “And thanks for the king sized bed.”

“Of course,” Ian replies. “I figured you’d be in the same bed anyways, so at least this way you have some extra room.”

“Well we appreciate it,” Angela says.

“No problem. Now you two should head upstairs. I’ll see you in a bit.”

With a nod in parting, Ian turns and heads off in the direction of the hotel’s front desk, so you and Angela take his advice and head upstairs. As soon as you get into your room, you strip out of your clothes from the day, eager to trade them in for something more comfortable. You slip on a pair of silk pajama pants, and you’re about to put on the matching top when you feel your girlfriend’s hand on your wrist.

“Leave it off,” Angela says. “I want to lay on your stomach.”

“Of course,” you reply, smiling softly.

You climb up onto the bed and lay back against the pillows, then look up at your girlfriend to signal that she’s good to join you. She does, maneuvering herself carefully beside you before wrapping her arms around your waist and laying her head gently on your growing baby bump. Sighing in contentment, you grab the remote from the side table and turn on the TV, flipping through the channels until you settle on one that’s playing The Rookie.

Time flies by, and soon enough, Angela is promising you kisses in exchange for getting out of bed to get ready. After spending a little bit to much time making out, you change into another shirt that you had stolen from your girlfriend and an oversized pair of cream pants. As soon as you’re done, you head into the bathroom to do a quick hair and makeup touch up, and then you are heading back out into the bedroom.

A strangled gasp escapes your throat as you walk out in time to see Angela pulling a dark pair of high waisted jeans up. Smirking, she looks up and shoots you a wink as she pulls up the zipper and does the button. You swallow hard as you take a few steps towards her, grabbing the belt that she had left on the bed before stopping in front of her. Trying to keep your breathing as even as possible, you slip the belt through the loops in her jeans and then do up the buckle.

“Thanks,” Angela whispers, leaning in for a soft kiss.

“Mmm,” you moan out softly, pulling her into your body. “This is a bad idea.”

“I’m just kissing you.”

“Yeah, and I already wanna ditch karaoke so that we can stay here and fuck.”

“Baby, you can’t say stuff like that,” Angela whines as she reaches down to squeeze her cock, no doubt trying to stop the blood from rushing there. “I’m gonna get hard, and there’s no hiding a boner in there jeans.”

“Sorry,” you say, smiling to yourself as you run your hands up her sides.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. Do you want help with your shirt?”

“Please.”

You smile and grab the white short sleeved button up that is laid out on the bed, then delicately help Angela pull it over her shoulders. She smiles softly at you and leans in for another kiss, and you quickly get distracted from your job, instead pulling her into you further and trailing your hands all across the smooth skin of her back. Just as she starts to deepen the kiss, a knock on the door startles you out of the moment.

“Fuck,” Angela says, pulling away and starting to do up the buttons on her shirt. “We lost track of time.”

“I wonder whose fault that is,” you tease.

“It’s not my fault you’re so damn kissable.”

Ignoring your girlfriend’s grumbling, you head to the door. Angela follows you, doing up the last two buttons just as you open up to see Ian on the other side. You exchange quick hellos, and then you head down to the lobby and back out onto the street. The karaoke bar isn’t very far away, and soon enough, you find yourselves taking the elevator up to the rooftop patio. As you step out, you immediately see Anthony and Shayne, who walk over to you.

“Hey,” Anthony says, doing a short handshake with Ian. “You guys are back just in time. They’re gonna start letting fans in any minute now.”

“Cool,” Ian replies as he looks around. “This a nice venue.”

“Right?”

Leaving the boys to their chat, you and Angela head outside to the bar where the rest of your castmates are congregating. Most of them have drinks in front of them, the only one drinking something non-alcoholic being Amanda, which is probably a good thing, as she’d had at least two margaritas at dinner. As you approach the group, Chanse looks up and does a little squeal of excitement that you’ve arrived.

“You’re here!” Chanse says excitedly, clearly already a little tipsy. “Ugh, tonight is going to be so much fun!”

“It is,” Angela agrees, immediately matching his energy. “What are you planning on singing?”

“I’m feeling some Queen tonight.”

“You going classic or off script?”

“I mean, I’ve gotta go Bohemian Rhapsody, right?”

“I would,” you say. “I mean, it’s a banger, and everyone knows the words.”

“That’s so true. So, you got a plan?”

“Oh, for sure. I’m going with How To Save A Life.”

“Oooh, that’s a good choice,” Chanse says. “I was thinking about doing Over My Head, but honestly, it kind of hurts my vocal cords.”

“Yeah, artificial rasp sucks.”

“What about you, Ange? You going down the rock route also?”

“I’m definitely thinking about it,” Angela replies. “I have a couple of songs in mind, so I’m gonna go off of vibes.”

“Go off of vibes for what?” Courtney asks as she walks over with Amanda.

“My song. I haven’t decided on it yet.”

“Oh, I haven’t either,” Amanda says. “I feel like I should do something recent, but I don’t know what.”

“Oh, what about Hot To Go?” Angela suggests. “God knows you’ve sung that in the shower enough times to have the lyrics down.”

“How do you know that?!”

“Your husband may or may not have cursed me out for introducing you to Chappell Roan. He said he likes her music, but not when it’s the same song on repeat for four days.”

“It was not four days,” Amanda says incredulously.

“Anyways,” Courtney interrupts, stopping the spiral that’s about to happen. “We should grab another round of drinks before we kick things off. They’re gonna start letting fans in soon.”

Before you can tell the blonde that you are staying sober, she turns to the bartender and orders five shots. You look over at Angela, trying to figure out what to do, but she looks just as lost. The drinks arrive and Courtney passes them out to everyone, but before she can get you guys to all do the shot together, she gets called away by Shayne.

“Oh, thank God,” you say, handing your shot to Chanse. “Here you go, buddy.”

“Thanks!” Chanse says, downing the two shots like they’re water. “Fuck, I love tequila.”

“That might’ve been a mistake,” you mutter, turning to look at your girlfriend.

“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Angela says, placing her still full shot glass on the bar. “I’ve seen him go shot for shot with a 6 foot 4, 250 pound Irish guy and win.”

“I’m pretty sure he cheated,” Amanda says. “I’ll look after him, don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” you say, before turning your attention to your girlfriend. “You can drink, you know. I don’t mind.”

“I meant what I said last night,” Angela says softly. “You’re sober, I’m sober.”

“Awww, you guys are so sweet,” Amanda say with a smile. “But you may want to tone it down a little, they’re starting to let fans in and we don’t want to blow this thing at the 11th hour.”

Sure enough, when you look over to the door that leads to the inside section of the bar, there are people streaming through it. It only takes five minutes for the venue to fill up, and soon enough, there’s a line for the bar that wraps around almost the entire patio. A couple of fans push their way between you and Amanda, and you find yourself self anxiously reaching for Angela’s hand as you’re pushed back into her.

“You okay?” Angela asks, taking your hand and shift to conceal the action.

“Yeah,” you say, breathing out a sigh of relief. “I’m okay.”

“Look, there’s security everywhere, so if anybody makes you uncomfortable, tell them. Don’t take any chances.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

Angela leans in and leaves a quick kiss on the back of your neck, then squeezes your hand once before dropping it. As much as you wish you could continue holding hands, you know that the risk of getting caught in a crowd this big is just too high, and Amanda is right. You definitely don’t want to blow tomorrow’s surprise at the last minute. Before you have the chance to get anxious for a whole different reason, the sound of a mic being tapped grabs your attention.

“Hello, everyone, and welcome to Karaoke with Smosh,” Ian says from the stage. “How is everyone doing tonight?” The crowd roars.. “Tonight we are going to have some cast members performing songs for you, and once we’ve all gone, we’re going to open up the mic to you. How does that sound?” The crowd cheers again, and they get even louder when Anthony comes on stage with his own mic. “Alright, let’s kick things off.”

The opening notes of Submissive and Breedable play, and soon, everyone is singing along to the Smosh original. Ian and Anthony alternate taking over bbno$’s parts, absolutely killing the chorus as well as their own verses. When the song comes to an end, Courtney gets up on stage and absolutely kills it Working For The Weekend.

As more and more of your castmates take the stage and perform, you and Angela find yourselves moving closer and closer, until you’re front and center. Chanse and Amanda end up joining you, and soon, you’re jumping around to the music and having the absolute time of your lives. After Tommy and Shayne perform, and Spencer takes the stage, you head over to the stairs to wait for your turn.

“How are you doing?” Ian asks as he comes to stand beside you.

“I’m good,” you reply, looking over at your boss. “Thanks for checking in.”

“Of course. Just make sure you stay hydrated, yeah? It’s hot.”

“I’ll grab some water from the bar after I sing.”

“Good. Break a leg up there.”

You nod in thanks and then turn your attention back up to the stage. Spencer had just finished his song, and is now walking towards you with the mic. He holds it out for you and you take it, giving him a grateful smile before walking up the stairs and taking the stage. As the music starts, you let your instincts take over and just start performing. Honestly, you black out a little bit, but it goes well and you leave the stage to a massive round of applause.

“That was amazing,” Amanda says as you hand the mic off to her. “You absolutely killed that song.”

“Thanks,” you reply. “I might have blacked out a bit.”

“Is it really a performance if you’re fully conscious?” Amanda winks as she starts to climb up the stairs. “Ange is at the bar ordering you a drink, by the way.”

You chuckle at the comment about performances, then head to the bar to find your girlfriend. It takes a minute to weave your way through the thick crowd, but eventually you find Angela standing off to one side with two glasses of cold water in her hands. A smile pulls at your lips as you walk over to her, and she holds out one of the drinks for you. You take it gratefully, immediately taking a few refreshing sips.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you say, wiping excess water from your top lip. “I can’t believe how thirsty singing one song made me.”

“Considering the way you crushed it, I’m not surprised,” Angela replies. “You did so fucking good.”

“Thank you. I can’t wait to watch you perform.”

“And I can’t wait to sing for you.”

“Did you choose a song?” you ask.

“I did,” Angela confirms with a nod. “And I think you’re gonna love it. Just know that I mean every word.”

Before you can respond, Angela winks and then sets her now empty glass of water down on the bar, before making her way up to the stage. Chanse is just finishing up, and before you know it, your girlfriend is taking the mic from him and bounding up the stairs. As she takes her place at center stage, the first notes of the song play. You recognize it immediately, and your heart pounds in your chest as Angela starts to sing.

I could stay awake just to hear you breathing

Watch you smile while you are sleeping

While you're far away and dreaming

I could spend my life in this sweet surrender

I could stay lost in this moment forever

Where a moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

Don't wanna close my eyes

I don't wanna to fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing

'Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream would never do

I'd still miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing

Trying and failing to keep the emotion out of your voice, you start to sing along. Having your girlfriend sing this to you, of all songs, means so much. It’s been one of your favorites ever since you can remember, and it’s on the short list to be the first dance song at your wedding. As Angela starts the second verse, she looks over to where you’re standing and smiles. You can see the tears shining in her eyes, and that pushes you over the edge.

Lying close to you, feeling your heart beating

And I'm wondering what you're dreaming

Wondering if it's me you're seeing

Then I kiss your eyes

And thank God we're together

And I just wanna stay with you in this moment forever

Forever and ever

I don't wanna close my eyes

I don't wanna to fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing

'Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream will never do

I'd still miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing

As you continue to sing along, you feel a tear run down your cheek. You hastily wipe it away, afraid that someone will see it and connect dots you don’t want them to connect yet. Just sixteen more hours. Sixteen more hours, and you can tell the world that the amazing girl on stage right now is the love of your life and the mother of your child. As you smile at the though, your girlfriend looks away and starts the last verse.

I don't wanna miss one smile

And I don't wanna miss one kiss

And I just wanna be with you

Right here with you, just like this

And I just wanna hold you close

I feel your heart so close to mine

And just stay here in this moment

For all the rest of time

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Don't wanna close my eyes

Don't wanna fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing

'Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream would never do

I'd still miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing

I don't wanna close my eyes

I don't wanna fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing

'Cause even when I dream of you

The sweetest dream would never do

I'd still miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing

Don't wanna close my eyes

I don't wanna fall asleep, yeah

And I don't wanna miss a thing

The song comes slowly to a close, and you find yourself wiping more wetness from your eyes. On the bright side, no one is paying attention to you, their eyes all glued on the stage where your girlfriend is taking a bow. You smile, watching as she walks off the stage and hands the off to Ian, who makes the announcement that the mic is open. As fans start to line up, Angela comes walking over to her, a shy smile on her face.

“So, what did you think?” she asks.

“I loved it,” you say softly, leaning in so that nobody else can hear what you’re saying. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Let’s get you some more water, yeah?”

With a nod in agreement, you follow Angela over to the bar. Someone immediately comes over and takes your order, and in less than two minutes, you have another ice cold water in your hands. You don’t hesitate to drink it, sighing as the cool liquid quenches the thirst that had built during your girlfriend’s performance. After finishing the glass, you set it down on the bar, and as you wipe the excess moisture from your mouth, you let out an unexpected yawn.

“Are you okay?” Angela asks, her lips pulled down into a pout.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you reply. “Just tired.”

“I’m gonna go talk to Ian and see if we can head out. We’ve done our performances, and we’ll still have more than enough people here to fulfill the contract if we go.”

“That’s a good idea. Heading back to the hotel sounds amazing right about now.”

“Okay. I’ll be back in two minutes, yeah?”

“Okay.”

You watch Angela as she walks away, disappearing in the direction that she had last seen your boss. A sigh escapes your lips as you move closer to the bar, leaning against it to relieve the ache in your feet from a day spent on them. While you wait for your girlfriend to come back, you turn your attention up to the stage to watch. The person performing right now isn’t half bad, but they could have done a lot better on the song choice.

“Not a fan of Sabrina Carpenter?” a voice with a British accent says from beside you.

“It’s not that,” you say, turning to look at the person who spoke to you and seeing a tall woman with dark hair and immaculate cheek bones. “I just don’t think her work pairs well with this singer’s voice.”

“Mmm, I’d have to agree. My name is Lily.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” Lily says, a smile pulling at her lips. “I have to say, your performance was stunning.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“Of course. You’re very talented. I’m actually a big fan. I wanted to get a picture with you earlier, but my workshop ended up running long.”

“Oh, so you’re a creator too?” you ask.

“Yeah, I mostly post workout routines and such, but I’ve been branching out into fashion a little bit as well.”

“I’ll have to check out your channel. I’m always looking for new stuff to do in the gym.”

“Honestly, I don’t think you need my help,” Lily says, looking you up and down. “You look fantastic.”

“Oh, that’s so ni-”

“Hey, Ian says we’re good to go,” Angela interrupts, sliding in next to you.

“Thank God,” you say, breathing out a sigh of relief as you turn to look at your girlfriend. “Are we gonna make the rounds, say goodbye to everyone?”

“Nah, I saw Chanse and Amanda on my way back over and let them know we were heading out. They’ll spread the message if anyone is looking for us.”

“Cool, so we’re in the clear?”

“We are in the clear,” Angela confirms.

“Good,” you reply before turning your attention back to Lily. “Would you like to get a picture before I head out? I know you said you didn’t get one earlier.”

“That would be amazing,” the woman says, pulling out her phone. “Thank you.”

“Of course!”

After posing for a quick selfie, you say goodbye to who you hope is going to end up a new friend before heading towards the exit with Angela. She walks silently beside you, pausing only to thank the event coordinator as you pass her on the way out. When you get to the elevator, she hits the button for the ground level, and you climb inside. As the doors close, you look over at her to see that she’s clenching her jaw, her eyes focused on the floor indicator.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, reaching over to take your girlfriend’s hand.

“Yeah,” Angela says, taking a deep breath in before sighing. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, baby. Talk to me.”

“That girl was flirting with you.”

“What?”

“That girl, at the bar. She was flirting. With the compliments and the subtly moving closer and the fuck me eyes.”

“Wait,” you say, slowly starting to understand. “Are you…jealous?”

“No,” Angela scoffs, though she’s blushing. “I’m not jealous, it’s just…you’re mine.”

“You do know that I wasn’t flirting back, right?”

“I know, it’s just…I hate that people that it’s okay to flirt with you, that you’re on the market.”

“It won’t be that way for much longer,” you say reassuringly. “This time tomorrow, we’ll have officially gone public. Until then, I guess you’ll just have to make me yours in private.”

“Oh, that I can do, love.”

Less than ten minutes later, you find yourself having barely enough time to kick off your shoes before you’re being gently but firmly pressed against the wall in the foyer of your hotel room. One of Angela’s hands is wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while the other is gripping tightly onto your waist as she kisses you with fervor. You moan as her tongue swipes across the seam of your mouth, and your lips part to grant her entrance.

“Fuck, baby,” you moan as Angela pulls away to mouth at your neck. “Bed. Now.”

Never one to deny your request, your girlfriend moves her hands to the backs of you thighs and scoops you up, carrying you into the bedroom and placing you gently against the sheets. You scoot up the bed until your back hits the pillows, and watch as Angela climbs up with you, stopping when she’s straddling you. She looks down at you, her eyes filled with pure desire, and runs her fingers along the bottom hem of your shirt.

You sit up, never breaking eye contact with your girlfriend, and slowly lift the tee over your head, discarding it to some random spot on the floor. Her breath hitches as she takes you in, and soon she reaching forward to undo the clasp of your bra. As soon as that is out of the way, you start returning the favor, slowly undoing the buttons of her collared shirt before practically yanking her sports bra over her head.

“Fuck,” you murmur, taking in the sight in front of you.

“Like what you see?” Angela asks, smirking.

“Definitely. But I wanna see more.”

“That can be arranged.”

Angela sits back on her heels and slowly undoes her belt buckle, pulling it through the loops of her jeans as she looks deeply into your eyes. Once it’s off and thrown elsewhere, she slowly pops open the button before pulling down the zipper. It’s then that you get a good look at her bulge, the tightness of her jeans having kept it contained for the most part. You lick your lips as you sit up, using your right hand to pull her in for a kiss while your other goes to her cock.

“Jesus,” Angela breathes out, squeezing her eyes shut. “I always forget how good your hands feel.”

“Yeah?” you say with a smirk. “I know something that feels a hell of a lot better.”

“Mmmm, please. Wanna be inside you.”

“I want you inside me too, baby. Come here.”

As you pull Angela in for another kiss, you lay back so that it’ll be easier to get the rest of your clothes off. You start with your girlfriend’s jeans, pushing them down as you get lost in her lips and the movement of her tongue. It takes a minute to get them completely off, but her boxers are easy, and then it’s your turn. In her haste to get to the good part, Angela pulls your pants and underwear off at the same time.

“Are you ready?” your girlfriend asks softly.

In lieu of giving a response, you take Angela’s hand and put it between your thighs, allowing her to feel how soaked you are. Her eyes immediately squeeze shut at the contact, a choked moan escaping from her lips. You smirk, but it’s wiped off of your face when she runs her fingers up you slit, circling you clit slowly. She repeats the motion a few more times before dipping two fingers into you, only to pull them out immediately.

“What are you-”

You cut yourself off with a gasp as you feel Angela run the tip of her cock over your entrance, and the you’re moaning as she slowly pushes into you. She pauses as she bottoms out, pulling herself up slightly so she can look into your eyes. The intensity of her gaze sends a jolt of arousal straight to your core, and you end up clenching around her unintentionally. This caused your girlfriend to buck into you, and from there, you start a slow pace.

“Fuck, I love being able to feel you around me,” Angela moans.

“Me too,” you say, gasping as she hits just the right spot. “You feel so good, baby. So fucking good.”

As Angela starts to thrust harder and deeper, you feel the telltale sign of your orgasm building in your core. The burn is starting to radiate out farther and farther, licking up to stomach and down your thighs until it finally explodes outwards and envelops your entire body. Your back arches and your thighs shake as they try to clamp shut, only to be stopped by the body in between them.

“Fuck,” you whine as you finally find your voice. “Fuck, Angela.”

“Yes,” Angela moans. “Say my name, baby. Say my name.”

“Angela, fuck. God, I love you.”

“Fuck, I’m-”

A deep moan rips from Angela’s throat as her hips stutter and then still as she buries herself deep inside you. The feeling of her release sends you into an unexpected orgasm, and you wind up crying out her name so loudly that you’re sure everybody on the floor heard you. As you slowly come down from your high, you lean up into your girlfriend, pressing lazy kisses against her collarbone and neck.

“Oh my God,” Angela says, her breathing uneven. “That was…fuck, how are we ever gonna go back to using condoms?”

“I have no idea,” you reply, sighing in contentment. “Maybe I’ll just have to get a birth control implant.”

“We can talk to your doctor about it after the baby’s born. For now, let’s just enjoy fucking raw with no consequences.”

“Uhm, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but there certainly is a consequence.”

“That doesn’t count. We used a condom.”

“That broke because it was from the fucking Ming Dynasty.”

“It was not that old,” Angela says, blushing furiously. “It was only a month past its expiration date.”

“And what did we learn from that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“An expiration date is not a suggestion, it’s a promise.”

“Correct.”

“Are you done teasing me now?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Angela says, her pout softening. “Let’s take a quick shower to clean up and then get into bed for the night. I wanna cuddle you to sleep.”

“That sounds amazing.”

—

The next morning, after spending an hour getting ready and hardly being able to eat any breakfast due to your nerves, you finally find yourself taking the stage for the live panel. As you take your seat on the couch between Angela and Chanse, you look out at the audience to see an entirely full house. There’s not one empty seat that you can see, barring the few in the front row that are reserved for the people working.

As the rest of the cast takes their seats, the applause that had started when Smosh was announced starts to die down. You keep looking around, trying to focus on anything but what you know is going to happen in less than an hour, before finally deciding to just turn your attention to Shayne. Your castmate is sitting center stage in his own chair, fiddling with the iPad as he waits for the cue to start. As soon as he get the all clear, he begins.

“Welcome, to a live reading of Reddit stories. I am your host, Shayne, and today we are going to be looking at some confessions from our very own. Let’s get started. Am I the asshole for eating the last pack of ramen?”

Having something to focus your mind on calms your nerves a little bit, and as the story goes on, you find yourself relaxing farther back into the couch. As you start to be able to concentrate more, you find yourself enthralled in figuring out who had confessed to something that would surely have devastated a few people in the office. By the time Shayne gets to the end of the story, you have a guess in your mind, but you’re completely surprised when it’s wrong.

The next three Reddit posts pass by in a breeze, though you are never able to successfully guess who submitted them. Two of them were posted by crew members that you don’t have the pleasure of working with often, but you should have admittedly guessed the one that Trevor had posted. As conversation dies down following Erin Kuschner’s submission, your heart rate starts to rise as Shayne begins to read the final submission.

Am I the asshole for keeping a secret from my co-workers?

I (27f) and my partner (31f) have been been keeping a secret from our coworkers for the past three months. It all started when we were dragged to a club after work on a friday. I won’t go into details, but drinks were had and mistakes were made. My partner, who was a friend at the time, and I ended up going home together. Six weeks, a missed period, and two tests later, I found out I was pregnant.

After informing my partner, we had a long discussion about our relationship and what we wanted out of the pregnancy. Ultimately, we agreed to keep the news to ourselves, barring the two people who had already found out about it.

So, am I the asshole for keeping a secret from my co-workers?

“Holy shit,” Shayne says, his eyes wide.

“Whoever this is has skill,” Olivia says. “Keeping a secret like that, and for three months? I could never.”

“And announcing it here?” Courtney adds. “That takes fucking balls.”

“But it is such as Smosh thing to do,” Tommy says. “Announcing a pregnancy by writing a Reddit post is kind of iconic.”

“So what are we thinking on the verdict?” Shayne asks as he looks around.

“Not the asshole, for sure,” Courtney says. “Everybody has the right to privacy, especially when it’s something like this. Would I have liked to know? Yes. But ultimately, it’s up to OP to decide what they want to share and when.”

“I totally agree,” Amanda says. “Having a kid is so personal, and a lot of times, people don’t tell their friends and family until they’re three months along anyways. Whether they were afraid to jinx anything or just wanted to stay in their little bubble of happiness for a long as possible, it was their choice, and personally, I would have done the same. Not the asshole.”

“Okay, so Courtney and Amanda are both voting not the asshole,” Shayne says, looking around the rest of the stage. “Is there anyone who thinks that OP is the asshole?”

“No way,” Damien says, earning nods of agreement from the rest of the cast. “This was a personal decision that OP and their partner made and agreed on together, and keeping the secret didn’t harm anybody.”

“Agreed,” Chanse says. “While it sucks to be kept in the dark, this is definitely isn’t something that I would be mad at.”

“Okay, so we’re all in agreement, OP is not the asshole,” Shayne says, looking down at his iPad and then back up. “Any guesses on who submitted this absolutely fucking wild story?”

“I don’t even have a guess,” Keith says, looking around the cast before turning off stage to the crew. “Nobody here even looks pregnant.”

“It has to be a crew member, right?” Arasha says. “We would’ve noticed if it was someone in the cast.”

“I’m just as in the dark as you guys,” Shayne says with a shrug of is shoulders. “Any other guesses?” When nobody says anything, he continues. “So, would the cast or crew member who submitted this story please raise their hand.”

Feeling your heart pounding in your chest, you slowly sit up straighter in your seat and then lift your hand above your head. You watch Shayne’s jaw drop, and Arasha sits so far forward in her chair that she almost falls off. Laughing, you look over at Angela, and she raises her hand as well. A collective gasp from the audience as well as most of the cast echoes through the room.

“What?!” Keith nearly yells. “You two?”

“I fucking knew it!” Courtney shouts, standing up. “I knew there was something going on with you, I just couldn’t figure out what. Now your change in style makes so much sense.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t exactly walk around in skinny jeans and tight t-shirts anymore,” you say jokingly. “My bump would’ve been too obvious.”

“So you’re having a baby?” Shayne says excitedly, before looking over at your girlfriend. “And you’re the father?”

“Yep,” Angela says, smirking. “Just call me Daddy.”

“Absolutely not,” you say, a look of horror written all over your face.

“What, not a fan of that term?” Chanse asks teasingly.

“Definitely not. It gives me the ick. Big time.”

“Then we won’t use it,” Angela says, leaning in for a soft kiss. “But if our kid calls me Dada, you’re gonna have to suck it up.”

“Our kid can call you whatever they want,” you say.

“I can’t believe you’re having a baby!” Courtney says, rushing over and throwing her arms around you and Angela. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Thanks, Court.”

“Wait, so when did this happen?” Olivia asks.

“That is definitely not a conversation for here,” Angela says, blushing. “We’ll spill all the tea later.”

“You better believe we’ll hold you to that,” Arasha replies.

#not me also being a 27f 😗🙏😌#angela giarratana x reader #rpf x reader #fic rec

97 notes · View notes

chai-berries · 21 days ago

Text

Unplanned

Warnings: Smut, GP!Character, Pregnancy

Word Count: 8292

Summary: A hook up after a night at the club has unexpected consequences

After a long shoot week at the Smosh office, some of the cast decides that you all deserve a night out. So, after wrapping on your final sketch on Friday, everyone heads out to Courtney’s favorite club in hopes of being able to let loose for the night. After all, you’ve all worked hard this week and could do with blowing off some steam.

As you walk into the club with Angela and Amanda by your side, you clench your jaw in anticipation. You’ve always liked going out with your friends, but a dive bar with karaoke is much more your scene than the loud music and flashing lights. The feeling of the bass pounding through your chest is already making your heart beat faster, and you readjust the collar of your crop top to give yourself some more room to breathe.

“Bar first?” Angela asks, looking at you and Amanda.

“Sure,” you reply.

“I could use a drink,” Amanda agrees.

You follow Angela up to the bar, where she opens a tab and orders all of you drinks. It’s a little bit surprising that she knows what you want before you do, but she’s always been attentive, and you have been going out together more since you moved in with her. When the bartender comes back with your martini, you take a sip and revel in the shiver that rolls down your spine at the taste.

“Good?” Angela asks, taking a sip of her rum and coke.

“One of the better ones I’ve had,” you say before taking another sip. “It’s a little strong, though.”

“Strong’s good,” Amanda nearly yells, having to raise her voice over the music.

“True.”

Before the conversation can take a turn in a different direction, you are being joined by a couple more of your castmates. Courtney and Shayne show up together, with Arasha and Chanse right behind them. They’re quick to get their own drinks, and then Amanda is ordering a round of shots to really get the party started. You take yours immediately, wanting to get to the other side of the nausea that hits after drinking tequila.

For now, everyone seems to content to stay at the bar, and that’s fine by you. You like dancing, but it’s always better when you’re already a little bit tipsy. When Courtney orders another round of shots, you realize that you’ll probably be there sooner rather than later, not that you really mind either way. This time it’s vodka, and it goes down a little bit smoother than the tequila did.

“Hey,” you hear an unfamiliar voice say from beside you.

You look up to find a girl with short dark hair and brown eyes looking at you with a coy smile on her face. If you’re honest, the smirk reminds you a little bit of Angela. That’s the only reason that you decide to actually talk to this girl. Usually you’d shoot people down when you’re out with your friends, but you’ve got a buzz going, and you realize that this is probably going to be one of those nights where all you think about is your feelings for your roommate.

“Hey,” you say, giving the girl a smile in return.

“I’m Ava. Can I buy you a drink?”

Before you have the chance to answer, you feel a strong arm come to wrap around your waist. You almost jump out of your skin at the contact, having not been expecting it. After taking a deep breath to regain your composure, you look up to find that it’s Angela who’s come to stand next to you. She’s glaring at the girl standing across from you, but as soon as she realizes she has your attention, she gives you hers.

“Hey, some of us are gonna go hit the dance floor,” Angela says. “You coming?”

“Uh, I-” You cut yourself off when you feel Angela’s hand squeeze at your waist, a clear indicator that you coming is not a debate. “Sure, yeah.”

With a sheepish smile in apology to the girl who had offered to buy you a drink, you follow your roommate out onto the dance floor. Chanse and Courtney are already there, and you can see Amanda and Arasha on their way back from what you guess is the bathroom. The only one missing is Shayne, but you find him closing out his tab when you glance back at the bar.

The song changes as you reach your friends, and you’re thrust into a throng of bodies dedicated to moving to the beat. You’re able to catch up quickly, moving your hips and throwing your arms in the air, just letting the bass settle deep inside your chest to guide you. The next hour is spent getting lost to the music and just enjoying being in the moment, something that you really haven’t gotten to do in a while. Maybe clubs are more fun than you thought.

As another, more sensual song starts blaring through the speakers, you feel a strong pair of hands grip your waist. A flash of short brown hair catches your eye, and you’re really hoping that the girl from the bar has come back to take another shot, because if it isn’t her, then that would mean that it’s Angela, and you don’t know if you could handle that.

Content to live in the fantasy for as long as you can, you press your hips back and start moving with the music again. The contact is intense, setting your whole body on fire and burning you from the inside out. The buzz that had been running through your veins for most of the night is starting to fizzle out, getting replaced by something else. Fuck, you’re gonna go home with this girl.

That though is only solidified when you grind back again and feel something hard pressing into your ass. You choke back a moan, your eyes closing and your head falling back against your dance partner’s shoulder. This ends up leaving you neck exposed, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel soft lips pressed against a patch of skin just below your ear. A moan does tumble out of your mouth this time, and you hear a soft chuckle that decidedly doesn’t come from bar girl.

“You’re so hot like this,” Angela murmurs in your ear, nipping it lightly. “Such a beautiful mess, and I haven’t even really started yet.”

“Oh, yeah?” you challenge, gasping when she pulls your hips back into hers. “What does ‘started’ look like?”

“Us finding a really dark corner in this place and you getting on your knees for me.”

“As much as I would love that, we really shouldn’t do this here.”

“You don’t have a choice, baby. You think I’m getting in a cab when I’m this hard?”

“Fuck, okay. Together or separate?”

“Together,” Angela answers, biting down roughly on your neck. “Everybody else is distracted, so we don’t have to worry about being seen.”

You nod and start to pull away, but Angela’s hands stay steady on your waist, not letting you move. The action is hot, you’ve always loved a display of strength, but it’s also confusing. Didn’t she just say she wanted to find somewhere more private? When you feel a hand trail in between your bodies and the shift of something hard against your ass, you realize exactly why she had kept you in place.

“What, don’t want anyone to see how turned on you are for me?” you tease.

“Trust me, baby, it has nothing to do with that,” Angela says, leaning closer to your ear. “I couldn’t care less if people saw just how desperate I am for you right now. I just don’t want to get caught before we have the chance to get going.”

“You make a good point. Let’s go.”

As you grab Angela’s hand, you pull her towards the back of the club and down the hallway that houses the bathrooms. You go past them, hoping that there’s some sort of storage closet or something that’s unlocked so that you’re not out in the open. After trying a couple of door knobs, you finally manage to find a room that’s open. You drag Angela inside and lock up behind you before turning on the light to find yourself in what seems to be an office.

“This is as good a place as any,” Angela says, walking behind the desk and leaning back against it. “Over here. On your knees.”

Never one to disobey, you quickly round the desk before moving to kneel for your roommate. Could she technically still be called your roommate after this? You have no idea, and don’t care to find out right now. Instead, you set your sights on the belt that is holding up her jeans and unbuckle it, pulling through the loops. As you toss it to the side, you look up to see her staring down at you with dark eyes.

Swallowing hard, you run your hand over Angela’s length, earning a sigh. You smile as you trail up higher, unbuttoning her jeans and then pulling down the zipper. The sight of her cock straining against her boxers has your eyes widening, and you pause for a minute, wanting to commit all of this to memory. Once you’re sure the image will have a hard time leaving your brain, you pull down her jeans and underwear and start to reach up.

“Wait,” Angela says, grabbing your wrist before you can touch her. “Are you sober enough to consent to this?”

“Yes.”

“And do you consent to this in general?”

“A thousand fucking percent,” you reply.

Angela searches your face for any signs of apprehension or uncertainty, and when she doesn’t find any, she releases your wrist. You smile up at her before moving your attention downwards, reaching out to wrap your fingers around her cock and stroking gently. She lets out a soft sigh, and you decide that your goal tonight is going to be to break her. You want to hear her moan your name.

Wanting to make that a reality as soon as possible, you lean in and lick a line all the way from the base of Angela’s cock all the way up, swirling your tongue around the tip. A hand comes to rest in your hair, encouraging you to keep going, so you do. You dip down and start to take her in your mouth, bobbing your head in a slow rhythm. With every bob, you take more of her until your nose is pressing against her stomach. You pause there for a second, looking up.

“Fuck,” Angela grunts. “So good for me. Can I chase it, baby?”

You do your best to nod, and Angela gets the message, because she immediately starts to rut her hips. The feeling of her cock hitting the back of your throat has you dripping, and you briefly consider shoving a hand down your pants just to get some relief before you feel the grip on your hair tighten. She’s close, and you want to focus on getting her there.

As you feel Angela start to tug at your hair, you hollow out your cheeks to create suction while using your tongue to trace the vein on the underside of her cock. You watch as her abs contract, the lines becoming more and more defined the closer to the edge she gets. It’s a beautiful sight to watch, but it doesn’t compare to her throwing her head back and biting down on a moan as she comes.

“Fuck,” Angela says as she comes down. “You-fuck.”

“That good, huh?” you tease as you tuck her cock back into her boxers.

“Better than. Come on, let’s get home so I can return the favor.”

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“If you think I’m not eating you out after that performance, you are sorely mistaken.”

Deciding not to argue against something you actually want, you stand up and wipe some of the stray spit from the corner of your mouth. Angela tracks the action with a dark gaze, but ends up shaking her head before moving to rezip and button her pants. You grab her belt and hand it to her, and she pulls it through the loops before buckling it in the front.

“Do I look presentable?” Angela asks.

“You’re fine,” you answer, running your fingers through your hair to smooth it out. “Am I good?”

“Yep. Ready to go?”

“For sure.”

Getting out of the office unseen is the easy part. The hard part is making it past your friends without them asking a million questions. Courtney had noticed your absence, but you’re able to play it off by saying that you’d been hugging the toilet in the bathroom for the last twenty minutes, with Angela there to comfort you. Your disheveled appearance helps sell that story, and soon enough you’re both on your way home in a cab.

The drive to your apartment building feels like it takes forever, and the elevator ride up to your floor is even worse. By the time you make it through your front door, you’re practically vibrating with impatience. Luckily for you, Angela is too, because as soon as you both have your shoes off, she lifts you up by the backs of your thighs and carries you down the hallway.

You find yourself being thrown onto her bed, and with in seconds, she’s crawling on top of you and pressing your lips together. Even with everything you’ve done tonight, you have actually kissed, so it takes you a little bit by surprise. It doesn’t take you long to recover, though, and soon you’re pushing back against her lips with equal fervor.

After a few minutes of exploring each other’s mouths, Angela moves down your jawline and then to your neck, kissing and sucking at the same spot she had at the club. Your hips jump at the feeling, and you feel her smirk against your skin before moving down to leave what is definitely going to be a mark on your collarbone. As she starts to move down to your chest, she tugs at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I take this off?”

“Fuck yes,” you say, eagerly sitting up.

Angela smirks as she rips the shirt over your head, but the sight of your bare chest wipes it right off of her face. Apparently she hadn’t been ready for you not wearing a bra. She looks up at you with hunger in her eyes, and when you nod, she immediately leans down and takes a nipple in her mouth.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

You arch your back so that Angela can get more of your breast in her mouth, and you moan as you feel her suck hard. A hand comes up to cup your other tit, massaging it gently, and your hips buck into her again. You manage to find some friction this time in the form of Angela’s leg between your thighs, so you start grinding into it, chasing some of the relief that you desperately need.

As Angela switches to lavish your other nipple with affections, you bring your hand up to pinch at the one she just left. This has a wave of heat washing down your spine, and you grind down harder now that the end goal is within reach. Before you can get there, though, strong hands push your hips down into the bed, elimination the friction that had been building you up.

“Baby,” you whine, reaching down to grab her hips and try to pull her flush against you.

“You’re not coming on my thigh,” Angela says as she starts to kiss down your body. “I have somewhere else in mind for that.”

With a wink, Angela undoes the button of your jeans with her teeth and then pulls the zipper down the same way. She makes quick work of pulling them off of your body, and you think she’s about to take your panties off too, but she stops short. When she looks up at you, you realize that she won’t go any farther without your consent.

“I know you said yes at the club, but I need to hear you say it now,” Angela says.

“Yes,” you reply, trying and failing to keep the whine out of your voice.

Consent now established, or re-established, Angela wraps her fingers in the hem of your panties and pulls them down slowly. You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment as you feel them stick to you, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. In fact, you’re pretty sure you hear her let out a little hum of appreciation.

The first trace of Angela’s tongue against your slit has you crying out her name. You’re embarrassingly close already, but that only seems to spur her on as she draws circles around your clit before briefly moving down to your dripping entrance. She repeats the pattern over and over again, drawing moan after moan from your lips as you feel your core start to tighten.

“Ange, I’m-”

A burst of white hot pleasure explodes from your center, and you feel your entire body start to shake as your orgasm engulfs you. Angela works you down from it expertly, slowing her movements down before completely coming to a stop when you go slack against the bed. You feel start to trail kisses back up your body, and you open your eyes as you feel her breath fanning against your lips.

Embarrassingly, a full body shiver runs through you at the sight of Angela’s face. Her chin is covered in your wetness, and her perfect lips are a darker shade of pink than you’ve ever seen them. Before she has the chance to tease you about your reaction, you lean up and kiss her, moaning at the taste of yourself on her tongue.

“God, you’re so hot,” you murmur. “Fuck, do you have condoms?”

“What?” Angela says, pulling away in surprise.

“Condoms. Do you have them?”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to-”

“I don’t, just like you didn’t when you said you wanted to go down on me,” you say, cutting her off. “Unless you don’t want to?”

“I do,” Angela says quickly. “I really fucking do.”

“Then get naked, grab a condom, and come fuck me.”

Angela nearly falls off the bed as she scrambles to get up, but she manages to get her feet under her. She stands up and pulls her collared shirt over her head before undoing the clasp of her bra and letting it fall from her arms. You take a minute to admire the view, but quickly get distracted when Angela pulls off her pants and underwear. She goes into the side table and grabs a condom, ripping the packaging off and rolling it on before climbing back on top of you.

“Are you sure about this?” Angela asks softly, positioning herself between your legs.

“Yes.”

“Because we don’t have to do this. We can leave it here for tonight and talk in the morning, or-”

“Angela, just shut up and fuck me already.”

The desperation in your voice seems to get Angela to understand that you want this, and she lines herself up at your entrance before pushing in. You do your best not to tense up, taking deep breaths to keep your muscles relaxed as she presses more into you. As soon as your hips connect, you feel your walls clench around her cock.

“Fuck, this isn’t gonna last long,” Angela mumbles. “Feels so good.”

Before you have the chance to tell her that you don’t care how long she lasts, she rolls her hips into you. The friction is delicious, and you find your head falling back against the pillows as you let out a loud moan that seems like it bounces off every single wall in your apartment. God, your neighbors are gonna hate you.

As Angela starts to build a rhythm with her thrusts, she shifts her hips slightly on every stroke. You wonder what she’s doing, but then you feel the tip of her cock rub against your g-spot, and you suddenly can’t think anymore. She smirks at the little choking sound that escapes your lips, and then she’s picking up speed and pounding you into the mattress.

It doesn’t take long for Angela to have you worked up and on the brink of orgasm, but you hold it, not wanting to let go yet. You dig your fingertips into her sides to give yourself something to hold onto, and suddenly her hips are stuttering into you. Low grunts are falling from her lips on every thrust now, and her eyes are glazed over as she chases her high.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Angela moans. “I need-I need you to come. I can’t-”

“I’m there,” you whine.

Your walls convulse around Angela’s cock as you come, and your legs try to clamp shut, only to be held open by the girl in between them. A sharp moan escapes your lips, and you hear her say your name again, which only adds to the pleasure that is coursing through your veins. It takes a long time for you to come down, only really coming back to yourself when you feel soft kisses being peppered across your cheek.

“You okay?” Angela asks, resting her head in the crook of your neck.

“Yeah,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“We should probably get cleaned up and head to bed.”

When you nod in agreement, Angela carefully pulls out of you before peeling the condom off and tying it closed. She gets up and offers you a hand that you take gratefully, before you both head out of her room and down the hallway to the bathroom. After a quick clean up, she leaves you to use the bathroom. As you pee, you realize that you never heard her door shut, and take that as an invitation to rejoin her. That night, you fall asleep feeling safe and sound in her arms.

—

An alarm blaring yanks you out of your sleep, and you groan, rolling over to bury your face in the pillow. This is the third time this week that you’ve woken up feeling like shit, and it’s only Wednesday. Before you have the chance to wallow in how miserable you feel, there’s a knock on your door and it opens just a crack.

“Hey, time to get up,” Angela says softly. “We have to be at the studio in less than an hour, and I wanna stop for some coffee if that’s cool.”

“Sure,” you say, sitting up slowly to avoid making your nausea worse. “I’ll be ready to go in twenty.”

Angela nods and closes the door, leaving you to start your day. Things between you two have been a little bit different ever since you hooked up. She’s been distant, but honestly, so have you. It’s like neither of you know how to walk back the line that you crossed that night a few weeks ago, and now you’re both just trying to learn how to live in the awkwardness.

Sighing, you climb out of bed and are immediately hit with a wave of nausea. Like the last two mornings, you sprint across the hall to the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the faucet so that Angela doesn’t hear you throwing up. After a minute of just sitting in front of the toilet, you get up and flush before starting to get ready.

You brush your teeth and take a quick shower, then head back to your room to get dressed. Buttoning your jeans takes a little extra effort this morning, but you chalk it up to bloating. Once you’re dressed, you put on some light makeup and grab your bag before heading out to the living room. Angela is waiting for you there, and as soon as she sees you come in, she stands up.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” you reply, heading to the door.

The elevator ride down to the parking garage brings on another wave of nausea, but you manage to dispel it by the time you climb into Angela’s car. The drive to the nearest coffee shop only takes five minutes, and then you’re heading off to the studio. When you get there, you head inside to find Amanda and Courtney chatting with Arasha in the main office.

“Yeah, I feel so much better,” Courtney says. “That cold was awful. I’m just glad my period was ending when I caught it.”

That statement makes you stop dead in your tracks. Wait a minute. Courtney’s period was ending? No, that couldn’t be right. Could it? If it was, that means yours was late. Like, extremely late. You guys weren’t perfectly synced, but you would have for sure started your period a few days before she did, as happens every month. A sinking feeling hits you in the pit of your stomach as you realize what this could mean.

“Hey, are you okay?” Angela asks from beside you. “You just got really pale.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you say. “I-I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

Without waiting for Angela to respond, you practically run down the hall and into the single person bathroom. You shut and lock the door behind you then walk over to the sink, turning the water on cold and splashing your face with it. The coolness does nothing to dispel the rising feeling of dread in your stomach, and you find yourself rushing to the toilet for the second time today.

After taking a minute to regain your composure, you take your spare toothbrush and toothpaste out of the bag and start brushing. All the while, you think about what’s going to happen now. You’re pregnant, you have to be. Your period is is a week and a half late and you’ve been waking up nauseous every morning for the last couple days. There’s no other logical explanation, right?

Knowing that there’s nothing you can do right now, you squash down your panic and resolve to go to the drugstore at lunch. Then you’ll be able to get a test and confirm that you actually are pregnant before you start really freaking out. With a sigh, you spit the toothpaste into the sink and rinse your mouth before putting everything away and walking back out to the office.

“There you are,” Amanda says, smiling as you walk over to the group that has formed. “We saw you come in, but then you disappeared.”

“I just had to use the bathroom,” you say, trying to give her a reassuring smile. “Are you ready for the shoots today?”

“God yes. I’ve been dying to play Gentleman’s Moose Master again.”

“The last one absolutely killed me,” Courtney agrees. “I can’t wait to see what we’ve got this time.”

“Yeah, that’ll be a good video,” you agree.

“What about you?” Amanda asks. “You’re filming a reaction video for Pit, right?”

“I am. God, I hope they don’t do me too dirty. Tommy got Angela good on the last one, I had to deal with her pouting for days after filming.”

“Hey, it was not that bad,” Angela protests with a pout.

“Oh, it was that bad,” Chanse chimes in. “You were grumpy for two days, and that was just what I saw here. I can’t imagine what you were like at home.”

“Mopey,” you say cheekily.

“Whatever,” Angela mutters, though you know she’s not actually feeling put out. “Let’s go, we’ve got to start getting ready.”

With that, the brunette turns around and starts walking in the direction of the art department. Shayne, Courtney, Amanda, and Trevor follow her, leaving you with the a few of your other castmates. You turn around to find Chanse looking at you with an eyebrow raised, but before you can say anything, Erin comes over and starts herding you to the stage you’re going to be shooting on today.

While you’d had a brief reprieve from your thoughts while you had been joking around with the rest of the cast, as soon as you sit down at the table on set, they all come rushing back in. You spend almost the entire shoot pretending to pay attention to the screen in front of you, but in reality, you’re a million miles away. When they call the final cut on the video, you let out a little sigh of relief and stand up, ready to move on to the next thing.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chanse asks as you walk back out to the main office. “You seem…off. I don’t really know how to explain it. And Angela has been pouting for weeks. Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” you say, sighing heavily as tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes. “It’s a long story, but I think I really fucked up and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Can you cover for me at lunch? I need to pick something up, but Angela can’t know about it.”

“Of course,” Chanse says softly. “I know this might be overstepping, but do you want someone to go with you?”

“Maybe,” you say, biting your lip as you think it through. “Yes. But then who’s gonna cover for us?”

“I’ll talk to Amanda, she won’t ask questions if she thinks I’m taking you out to lunch so that I can gush about the guy I hooked up with last weekend.”

“Okay, yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course. Now come on, we just have to get through an hour long shoot before we can go do whatever you need.”

You nod your head and follow him off the stage and back into the main office, where you find Ian and Anthony setting up for the sketch shoot. Most of it has already been filmed, but the final part got delayed due to some technical difficulties the other day so the final scene had been squeezed into today’s schedule.

This shoot goes a lot better than the last, with you being able to turn on your actor’s brain and set everything else on the back burner. It ends up running a little bit long, but that just means that lunch will be pushed back a bit. Not a complete travesty in the grand scheme of things. When the shoot ends, you walk off towards the kitchen to get Chanse, and you find him talking to Amanda.

“Wait, why are you going out for lunch?”

“Because I need to talk to her about something,” Chanse replies. “I hooked up with a guy this weekend, and I need adv-”

“Nope, stop,” Amanda says, holding her hand up. “I don’t wanna know. I’ll tell Ange that you guys went out.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey,” you say, stepping into the kitchen. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Chanse says, walking towards you. “Let me just grab my keys.”

With a little nod, you turn and head back out towards the bullpen. You stop off at Chanse’s desk to grab his keys, and then you head out to the parking lot. He opens the door of his pick up truck for you and helps you in before going walking around the vehicle and hopping into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t start the engine though, just looks over at you with a soft expression.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“I-I slept with Angela,” you whisper, looking down at your hands. “A few weeks ago. We were drunk and it just kind of happened, but things have been weird ever since. I think she thinks it was a mistake.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“No, I…I don’t know how to. I mean, how do I tell her that I…”

“Do you have feelings for her?” Chanse asks softly.

“I do. But now everything is weird and complicated, and I-”

“Why are things complicated? You slept together, that wouldn’t have happened if she didn’t feel something too.”

“Because I think…I think I’m pregnant.”

Chanse just sits there for a moment in stunned silence, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. You want him to say something, anything, even if he just calls you a fucking idiot for letting this happen. But you know he would never do that, he’s too kind and compassionate to have that kind of a response. Instead, he just puts the key into the ignition and turns it, then starts backing out of the parking spot.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To the pharmacy,” Chanse answers. “We’ll pick up a test, and you’ll take it. If it’s positive, then we can start to panic.”

“Yeah, right. Okay.”

The drive to the nearest drug store only takes five minutes, and soon you find yourself in the family planning aisle. Chanse stays by your side, offering silent support as you look at the pregnancy tests. Eventually you grab two Clearblues, then you head up to the front of the store and check out. With the tests now in hand, you’re tempted to just take them here, but you know that a CVS bathroom probably isn’t the best place to find out that you’re pregnant.

When you get back to the Smosh studio, Chanse takes you down a side hall that avoids the eating area before opening the door to the women’s bathroom for you. You swallow hard, but he gives you a look of encouragement, so you head inside and go into the first stall. After reading the directions, you pee on the sticks and then flush the toilet before heading out of the stall. You put the tests on a paper towel on the counter and then wash your hands.

After setting a timer on your phone for five minutes, you poke your head out of the bathroom. Chanse looks up at you, and when you nod your head back inside, he pushes himself off the wall and follows you in. For the next few minutes, you sit in silence, waiting for the alarm to go off with a pit of dread in your stomach. When it does, you take a deep breath and walk back to the counter, flipping over the tests.

“Positive,” you choke out, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks. “Both of them.”

“Fuck,” Chanse breathes out, walking over to wrap his arms around you. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ll figure this out.”

“I don’t-I didn’t-”

“I know. I know.”

“Nobody else can find out,” you say, sniffling. “Not before I talk to her.”

“They won’t.”

As if he knows exactly what to do, Chanse grabs a paper towel from the dispenser and wraps one of he tests up before putting it into your backpack. He then wraps the other one up and buries it, making sure that nobody will find it unless they’re looking for it. When he’s done, he turns to you and wraps you in one last hug.

“Everything’s going to be okay, I promise,” Chanse says.

“Thank you,” you whisper back. “Now I just have to figure out how to get through the rest of my day.”

With a sigh, you pull out of his arms and you both head to your next shoot. You spend most of it trying not to throw up, the confirmation of your pregnancy bringing back your nausea in full force. You notice Amanda watching you, a concerned look on her face, but before she can say something, Chanse stops her with a shake of his head and a few hushed words. If he hadn’t promised to keep your secret, you would have been concerned that he had told her.

When you’re finished shooting the short sketch with Chanse and Amanda, it’s time for you to get ready for your last video of the day. At this point, not having had lunch is starting to catch up to you, but there’s no time to find something to eat. You struggle to push away the brain fog that’s come down heavy in the past couple of minutes, and you manage to fight it back far enough that you can at the very least function.

As you walk onto the Reddit Stories set, you see Shayne and Angela talking over by the couch. They both look up when you come in, and he says one last thing to her before nodding in your direction. You watch her take a deep breath as she starts walking over to you, her hands fiddling nervously with the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

“Hey,” Angela says quietly. “You weren’t at lunch.”

“Yeah, I went out with Chanse,” you reply, looking down. “He wanted to talk about some stuff that happened over the weekend.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I’m sure he would’ve asked you to go if he actually needed advice, but he kinda just wanted to gush, so…”

“That’s not-” Angela cuts herself off, biting her bottom lip. “Are we okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just…things have been different since…you know. And I didn’t expect them not to be, but this feels…I don’t know. Like you’re mad at me?”

“Ange, I-”

“Did I make you uncomfortable? Do something you didn’t want?”

“Of course not,” you say immediately, not wanting her to think that she did anything wrong. “I’ve just had a lot to think about, and then today…”

“Today what?”

“I’ve just been feeling off, okay? It has nothing to do with anything that you did. I promise.”

Angela looks unconvinced, but she nods her head before walking over to the couch and taking a seat. You sigh and follow her over, plopping down and grabbing a pillow to wrap your arms around. Courtney does a few final checks with the crew, and they you start rolling. Shayne goes through the intro and introduces the theme, which happens to be ‘Am I The Asshole’ stories centered around roommates.

Listening to the stories is hard at first, but after two you manage to zone in and start actually giving your opinions on them. Engaging in the conversation seems to make the time go faster, and pretty soon, the episode is wrapping up. As Shayne does the typical sign off, you watch Chanse slip in through the stage door behind the cameras. He doesn’t seem to be here for you though, walking over to Erin and asking her a question.

When Courtney announces the final cut, you sigh in relief. As you go to stand up, your vision goes black and your legs buckle a little bit underneath you. Reaching out to steady yourself on the couch, you sit back down to try to regain your bearings. You hear Angela’s voice come from next to you, but it sounds really far away.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“What’s going on?” Chanse says, walking over from behind the camera.

“Dizzy,” you manage to stutter out, your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“You literally took her out for lunch,” Angela says, sounding annoyed.

“Last night,” you say quietly. “I was too nauseous to eat this morning.”

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” Chanse says. “I’m going to go grab you something from the kitchen, and Angela is going to take you to Ian’s office so that you can lay down on his couch. Alright?”

You nod, blinking your eyes open to shoot your friend a grateful look. He returns the gesture, then gets up and heads out towards the main office, leaving you alone with Angela. You look up at her slowly, and find that she already has her eyes on you, a concerned expression on her face. Before you have the chance to say anything, though, she helps you to your feet and starts leading you to Ian’s office.

“What’s going on with you?” Angela asks as soon as you’re inside, her jaw clenching.

“It’s nothing,” you say, hoping that denial will buy you a little bit of time.

“Don’t do that. First you lie about lunch, and then I find out that you were nauseous this morning and didn’t tell me. Seriously, Y/N. Tell me what’s going on.”

“This isn’t the right place to have this conversation-”

“The hell it isn’t,” Angela says angrily. “Look, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong-”

“I’m pregnant.”

That stops Angela in her tracks. Her eyes go wide, and then they trail down to your stomach before moving back up to your face. She almost looks like she doesn’t believe you, so you reach into your backpack and pull out the positive test. You unwrap it and hand it to her, but it only seems to make her freeze more.

“Say something,” you beg.

“I-”

Angela stutters and looks from you to the test and back up again, but she never actually says anything. You give her a minute to start to wrap her head around things, but the longer she stays quiet, the more your chest begins to ache. When she looks up at you again, you think that she’s finally about to say something, but she doesn’t. She just stares at you, her jaw clenched.

“Right,” you say, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I, uhm, I think I’m going to stay somewhere else tonight.”

You turn on your heels and walk out of the office, heading towards the kitchen at a brisk pace. Tears are falling freely down your cheeks now, and your vision is blurred enough that you almost smack into someone on your way down the hall. It takes strong hands on your shoulders to get you to focus, and you look up to see Chanse standing in front of you.

“What happened?”

“I told her,” you say quietly. “She, uh, she didn’t…”

Thinking about the way she looked at you is the clincher, and you collapse into Chanse’s arms, sobbing. He wraps his arms tightly around you, allowing you to let it out. By the time you manage to get yourself together, the shoulder of his shirt is drenched and you’re somehow in a closet instead of the hallway that this conversation started in. You have no idea how he moved you to somewhere more private, but you’re glad he did.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” you ask, sounding small.

“Of course. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

For the second time today, you find yourself being led outside and helped into Chanse’s truck. You rest your head against the window as soon as he closes the door, and you watch the greenery that surrounds the studio thin out as you head back into the city. It doesn’t take long to arrive at his building, and soon you’re seated at his kitchen island, watching him cook.

“How are you doing?” Chanse asks, setting a plate of stir fry down in front of you.

“I’ve been better,” you reply honestly. “I mean, I didn’t expect her to be over the moon about this, but she could have at least said something.”

“She didn’t say anything?”

“Nope. Just stood there like a statue and stared at me.”

“Maybe she’s just processing.”

“I hope so. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“Hey,” Chanse says softly, walking around the island to take a seat next to you. “You won’t be doing this alone. If she isn’t there, I will be. I know it’s not the same, but…”

“Thank you,” you say, smiling at him softly.

Before Chanse can say anything in response, his phone starts buzzing on the kitchen counter. He gives you an apologetic look before getting up and going to grab it. As he picks it up, he looks at the screen and frowns. He taps something and puts the phone back down, but it immediately starts buzzing again, so he sighs and answers it.

“Amanda, what’s up?”

“Do you want to tell me why Angela just called me in a panic, looking for Y/N?”

“No, not really,” Chanse says, putting the phone on speaker.

“Well, have you seen her?” Amanda asks. “Because I think our girl is going to have a panic attack if she doesn’t find her in the next five minutes.”

“It would serve her right. And she is definitely not my girl right now.”

“Oh my God, you’re mad at her. You’re never mad at her. What did she do?”

“It’s not my story to tell.”

“It’s fine, she’s gonna find out anyways,” you say, sighing.

“Wait, is Y/N with you?”

“She is,” Chanse says.

“So she’s not going home? What the fuck happened?”

“I’m pregnant,” you say quietly. “It’s Angela’s.”

“WHAT?” Amanda practically yells into the phone. “How? When? Does she know? Sorry, dumb question. She wouldn’t be panicking right now if she didn’t. But wait, why are you with Chanse?”

“Your girl froze,” Chanse says. “Y/N told her, and she just stood there.”

“Fucking idiot. I’m going to kill her.”

Before either you or Chanse has the chance to say anything back, there’s a knock on the door. You exchange a look with each other, but ultimately decide that whoever it is can go the fuck away. As you turn your attention back to the phone and Amanda, another series of knocks sound from the door, this time with a voice accompanying them.

“Chanse, I know Y/N is with you,” Angela calls out. “Open the door.”

“Is she at the door?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah,” Chanse says, walking around the island with his phone in his hand. “Look, I have to let you go. I’ll call you later, yeah?” Without waiting for an answer, he hangs up and turns towards you. “What do you want to do? Do you want to see her?”

“Not really, but I should,” you say. “We need to talk about this eventually.”

“That doesn’t mean it has to be tonight.”

“I know, but it should be. Let her in.”

Chanse nods and then heads to the front door. He pauses with his hand on the knob, looking back to give you one last chance to change your mind. When you don’t, he takes a deep breath and opens the door. He’s immediately shoved back, and you watch Angela walk into the apartment, her eyes scanning the room until find you. As she starts to walk over to you, you climb off of the stool you’re sitting on and wrap your arms around yourself.

“Hey,” you say quietly.

“Hey,” Angela says, visibly softening at the sound of your voice. “Can we talk?”

“We probably should.”

“Chanse, do you mind giving us a few minutes?”

“Of course,” Chanse replies, before walking over to you and giving your shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be right down the hall if you need me.”

“Okay.”

With a soft smile to you and a glare to Angela, Chanse heads down the hallway and into his room. As soon as you hear the door click shut, you turn back to the girl standing in front of you. She’s looking at your stomach, a mix of wonder and uncertainty clouding her eyes. When she notices you watching her, she clears her throat and straightens up.

“So you’re really pregnant?” Angela asks quietly.

“Yes,” you reply softly.

“When did you find out?”

“Today. I…I heard Courtney talking about coming off of her period when we came in this morning, and I realized I was late. Chanse took me to the pharmacy during our lunch break, and I took a couple of tests. They came back positive.”

“Okay,” Angela says, taking a deep breath. “Okay. So, uhm, I know you probably have a lot that you want to say to me after what happened at the studio, but can I go first?” You nod your head, and Angela lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay. First, I want to say that I’m so sorry for how I reacted. Never in a million years did I think our conversation was heading in that direction, but that’s no excuse.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“I don’t forgive me, but I appreciate it. The second thing that I wanted to say is, I’m in. I want to be a part of this, with you. In whatever way you want me. But before you decide on that, you should know that I’ve been helplessly in love with you for the last six months.”

“What?”

“I’m in love with you,” Angela repeats, taking a step closer to you. “I love the way you make everyone around you smile, the way you care so deeply about all of our friends, the way you can make me laugh even when I’m having a bad day. I love your smile, and your laugh, and that little crease on your forehead that is only visible when you’re concentrating really, really hard. And so help me God, I love the way that you taste, the way you moan my name, the way you make me feel like I’m burning up from the inside out.”

“Ange,” you say quietly, tears welling in your eyes for the hundredth time today.

“I love you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. Please, just give me a chance to show you that.”

“Only if you give me the chance to show you right back.”

“Deal.”

Not wanting to spend another second out of Angela’s arms, you close the distance between you and pull her into a passionate kiss. She responds immediately, sinking into the embrace and letting her body melt into yours. It just feels right, and you realize that no matter what happens next, you’ll always have Angela.

#i’m 🥺#angela giarratana x reader #rpf x reader #fic rec

169 notes · View notes