rach067

[rach067]

London Girl || Leah Williamson

Pairing: Leah Williamson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a serious disagreement with Lyon’s coach, you felt like you needed a fresh start—and what better place than an English club? What you didn’t expect, however, was for Leah to be so kind and affectionate toward you.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: Leah being a total sweetheart and the reader falling for her through the little things.

▪︎ Woso Masterlist

Today was one of those days where you’d sit on your apartment balcony, sipping coffee as you watched the sun begin to rise over the horizon. You’d see cars passing by, people rushing down the streets to start another workday. You’d hear children grumbling about hating waking up early for school, and your neighbor complaining about a persistent leak in her bathroom and how much she hated that place. 

You’d tidy up your apartment while Johan stretched out on the couch, paws extended, letting out a soft purr. Your routine was built on monotony—unchanging routes, different faces, endless complaints, and the occasional arguments at the training center. It was no secret that you and the team’s coach didn’t get along. In fact, the two of you seemed to hate each other. 

That morning, he had made it clear you’d be benched for the rest of the season. Right in the middle of the season where you were competing for your second Golden Boot. Now, you’d lost your captain’s armband and your damn starting position. Staying in France was no longer an option. At that moment, maybe Spain, London, or even South American football were becoming real possibilities. 

Barcelona, Arsenal, Real Madrid, Paris Saint-Germain, even Chelsea. There were plenty of ways to escape the hell Lyon had become. There was the fact that you’d practically been born and raised at Lyon, but the discomfort in that place was starting to outweigh your passion for wearing that jersey. 

So when a decently big offer came in, you didn’t hesitate. There was no doubt about your choice—and all thanks to one damn interview with Arsenal’s coach and that defender you knew from a not-so-friendly tackle. The praise, the comments about how Arsenal needed a player like you—it was enough. A new path, maybe a new challenge. 

A necessary fresh start. 

————— ————— ————— ————— ————

London had a damp, gray soul. To outsiders, it seemed eternally wrapped in a cloak of low-hanging clouds, where the sun was nothing more than a rare, shy visitor. It was as if the city’s sky carried the weight of centuries of history, wars, and forgotten poems tucked away in the wet corners of its narrow streets. 

The London weather was undoubtedly one of the biggest challenges for anyone daring to call it home. The constant drizzle—that fine rain that didn’t soak you immediately but seeped slowly into your clothes and skin—was practically the city’s signature. There was no rush, no downpour. It was as if London preferred to rain in silence, drop by drop, a melody so faint only the attentive could hear it. 

For those coming from places like Latin America or Southern Europe, the first days in London were almost always marked by unease. The biting wind that seemed to slice through even the thickest coats, the ever-overcast sky—it all created a sense of loneliness, even in the middle of bustling crowds. 

And yet, you found yourself strangely comforted by that melancholy. In the narrow cobblestone streets, in the corner cafés with fogged-up windows, in the terraced houses with smoking chimneys—with the heavy accents that sometimes made conversations impossible, caught between the kindness of some and the rudeness of others—everything about this city held you in its grasp in so many ways. 

London seemed to whisper: "You can feel sad, but you’ll never be alone."

Your first days felt endless, almost suffocating. But your first impression was far from bad. In fact, you were starting to understand why so many players had chosen this place. London was magical. Everything seemed to fall into place in an almost eerie way—the weather, the places, the people. It all felt calculated to pull you in within hours. 

The Arsenal training ground was dimly lit by the weak sunlight. You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of fresh grass and the slightly damp air. It was your first day as an Arsenal player, and though you were used to change, something about this new chapter made you nervous. 

You wore the Arsenal kit for the first time, the red and white still unfamiliar on your skin after so many years in Lyon’s colors. Despite the excitement, a knot of anxiety sat in your stomach. This wasn’t just a new team—it was a new country, a new language, and, most importantly, new teammates. 

In the locker room, some players were already getting ready for training. A few smiled timidly at you, others nodded, but there were no long conversations. You weren’t shy, but you knew it would take time to build bonds. You focused on tying your laces, avoiding prolonged eye contact. 

"Y/N, right?" A soft but firm voice caught your attention. 

Looking up, you saw Kim Little, the Scottish midfielder, extending her hand. 

"Yeah. Nice to meet you, Kim," you replied, shaking her hand with a friendly smile. 

"Welcome to the team. If you need anything, just let me know, okay?" 

You nodded in thanks, but before you could say more, the coach walked in and announced the tactical drill pairings. When you heard your name called alongside Leah Williamson’s, your heart skipped a beat. 

Leah. The captain of the English national team. The same player you’d had a heated argument with during an international match after a rough tackle that nearly took you out of the game. You didn’t hold a grudge—that was just football—but you weren’t sure if Leah felt the same. 

When your eyes met, Leah didn’t smile, but she didn’t frown either. She just gave a brief nod and walked over. 

"Ready to work?" Leah asked, her tone neutral but not hostile. 

"Always," you replied, keeping it professional. 

Training began, and little by little, you realized Leah was a natural leader. She gave clear instructions, corrected positioning, and—to your surprise—didn’t hesitate to praise a precise pass you made during drills. 

"Good ball, Frenchie," Leah said casually. 

"Thanks," you replied, surprised. 

It was a start. 

————— ————— ————— ————— ———— 

The following days were about adjustment. You began adapting to the training style, the tactics, and—most importantly—the personalities of your new teammates. Some were more outgoing, like Beth, who never hesitated to strike up a conversation. Others were energetic, like Kyra and Alessia. And then there were those like Leah—reserved but present when needed. 

What you didn’t expect was the way Leah, little by little, started getting closer. 

First, it was the water bottles handed to you without you asking. Then, the small pats on the back after a good play. And then, the smiles—subtle, almost imperceptible—that Leah seemed to reserve just for you. 

You, however, didn’t think much of it. After all, Leah was one of the team’s captains. It was normal for her to look after the players, right? 

Until one day, after an exhausting training session, you were sitting alone on the pitch, catching your breath. Leah walked over and, without a word, sat beside you, offering a cold water bottle. 

"You played well today," Leah commented, staring ahead as if talking to the horizon. 

"Thanks, Lee. Still trying to adjust to your style," you replied, turning to face her. 

Leah finally looked at you, and you noticed something different in her eyes. There was an intensity there, something you couldn’t name. 

"You’ll fit in perfectly," Leah said softly. 

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks but blamed it on exhaustion. 

"Hope so."

Leah smiled—a real smile—before standing and offering a hand to pull you up. 

"Come on, the team’s heading to the locker room." 

You took her hand, not noticing how Leah held onto your fingers a second longer than necessary. 

And just like that, without hurry, without grand declarations, something between you began to shift. 

————— ————— ————— ————— ————

The locker room was nearly empty, the distant sound of voices and echoing footsteps in the hallway the only things breaking the heavy silence. Leah was sitting on the bench, elbows on her knees, hands clasped under her chin. Her gaze was fixed on the floor, but her mind was still on the game—on those rough tackles, the挑衅 stares from opponents, the way they seemed to target you specifically. 

Leah couldn’t stand it. 

Your touch on her shoulder was gentle, almost startling. Leah hadn’t noticed you approaching. 

"Hey, Lee."

Your voice was low but firm, as if you already knew the storm of emotions raging inside her. 

Leah looked up, meeting your calm gaze—one that had somehow already become so important to her. 

"You know you can’t control everything, yeah? She didn’t hurt me, okay? I just need an ice pack." 

Leah rolled her eyes, making a face that almost made you smile. 

"I should’ve done the same to her."

You didn’t answer, just started massaging Leah’s temples, your fingers firm but gentle. Leah closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the tension begin to fade. 

"I kinda need my captain at a hundred percent for the Lyon match next week." 

Leah muttered something unintelligible, making you laugh. 

"Lee, those girls were just trying to get under your skin. Relax. We’ve got a big game coming up, and the team needs you focused." 

Leah sighed, defeated. You were always right. 

"Fine, you’re right. 

"Hmm, you really are hot-headed," you teased, kissing Leah’s forehead before pulling her up. "Come on, Lessi and Kyra are already complaining about you taking so long. They decided we’re treating them to dinner tonight." 

Leah felt the warmth of your body so close, the faint scent of your perfume mixed with soap. It was comforting. Without thinking, her hands found your waist, pulling you gently closer. 

You didn’t pull away. Instead, your fingers slid from Leah’s shoulder to her cheek, holding her with a tenderness that made her heart race. 

Leah blinked a few times, as if trying to convince herself of something. And then, before fear could win, she leaned in, capturing your lips in a hesitant kiss. 

It was soft, almost testing—a silent invitation for you to back away if you wanted. 

But you didn’t. 

Instead, your lips responded with a hunger that stole Leah’s breath. Your hands cupped her face, pulling her closer, as if nothing else mattered in that moment. 

"Fucking finally!"

Kyra and Alessia’s loud voices echoed through the locker room, making you two break apart. 

Leah laughed, hiding her face in your neck as their giggles and teasing filled the air. 

You shook your head while Leah squeezed your hand, as if saying: "Doesn’t matter. They already knew anyway." 

And in that moment, with her heart still racing and lips still tingling, Leah realized that this—that you—were something worth fighting for. 

Even if the whole world was watching.

[rach067]

🪄

[rach067]

It’s Always Been You (Leah Williamson x Mac McCabe AU)

A/n: The reader in this story is the same reader from The Pretender series, only in this universe, she falls for Leah instead of Alessia.

2019

You and Katie had started becoming more well known in the football world in the last few months. Katie had been making a name for herself in the WSL for four years, while you were just about to arrive in the league. Both of you played beside each other in the back line. Well, when Katie was playing as a full back.

You were a monster of a centre back and just gone 19 years of age. You’d made a few appearances already in the Irish senior international team, so clubs were practically throwing contracts into your hands for the upcoming season.

You settled on Arsenal, knowing that your sister was there and that you wouldn’t be alone. Although, for someone who was only 19, you were extremely independent. You probably could have went anywhere and been fine. If anything, Katie needed your help with things more than you needed hers.

You felt at the time you’d made the right decision for yourself. Joining Arsenal.

You’d tried so hard over the years to become the best at something in your house. With four siblings older than you and four younger than you, someone always seemed to do something to take the limelight, and you never really got a look in. It was hard though to blame anyone other than yourself for just never being good enough.

“What’s got you so happy?” Beth asked Katie, who was bouncing on her toes at the main door of the training grounds, looking out at the car park.

“She’s waiting on her little sister” Jill chuckled.

“Oh, Mac is coming in today?” Beth smiled

“Yeah, first day” Katie added with a nod.

“Is she a little hot headed shite like you are?” Kim laughed as Katie playfully rolled her eyes.

You were much quieter than your older sister. You were a tough player to play against, but you kept to yourself for the most part. You weren’t that talkative, but you were an overly nice person. You always put others over yourself, no matter what the reason was. You’d rejected moves on both sides of Manchester to be here at Arsenal.

“Mac” Katie shouted, running out and hugging you as soon as you stepped out of the car. “What’s the story?” She asked.

You’d been in London a few days, getting everything, including yourself, in order with the move. You had things to do like sorting yourself with a new SIM card, opening a bank account, setting up WiFi in your house, getting a car, buying and building furniture. You know, all the things a typical 19 year old wouldn't dream of doing alone, without some type of adult supervision.

Katie and Ruesha had suggested for you to move in with them, but you instantly rejected their offer as you much preferred the idea of living alone. You'd never got the chance to live by yourself before, and you had craved that independence for years. Your house had always been loud and busy, so the peace you felt of having your own space was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

“Nothin'” You shrugged.

“Don’t be shy, come on. The girls are all dyin’ to meet ye” she grinned, reaching up and pulling you by the shoulder in through the main door. For someone who was only 19, you were big. Far bigger than your older sister. You done nothing other than work out and play football. You also rarely drank, due to not having that many friends to go out with.

“Jesus Christ, what do they be feeding you in Ireland?” Kim laughed.

“Are you sure you’re only 19?” Beth chimed in and you nodded at the England winger.

“Mac, this is Kim, Beth and Jill” Katie introduced them as you have them a quick nod in greeting.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you” Jill smiled, again you met them with another nod.

“You’re sure you’re related Katie?” Beth teased your older sister.

“Piss off Meado” Katie playfully stuck her finger up at her English teammate before walking off with the three of them. “Mac, will ye come on!” Katie shouted as you stumbled over your own two feet to catch up with them.

“When I heard another McCabe was coming in, I thought we’d never get a minute of peace again” Kim laughed.

“Ah, she’ll warm up to ye. She’s just a young one of very few words” Katie shrugged.

-

Arsenal Women sign 19 year old Irish rising star Y/N McCabe. The new defender will take her place beside her older sister, Katie, as the pair try to clinch some silverware with the Gunners this season

A new defender has landed in the league, and strikers, beware! It’s another McCabe 🫣

How does Arsenal plan to become the most carded team in the league? 🟨 Easy, sign McCabe jr.

-

You’d seemed to have come with a bit of a reputation of being Katie’s little sister, which didn’t really bother you at first. You knew you weren’t as hot headed as Katie was on or off the pitch. You were a clean defender, and a huge softie.

But after a few days had passed you came to the realisation that nobody on the team had really stopped to get to know who you were. It seemed like all they needed to know was that you were Katie’s sister, and that’s all the media and fans wanted to know too. It made it more entertaining to think of the McCabe’s being this intimidating duo that would scare off any threats to the Arsenal goal.

You trained harder and got stronger, to try to prove to people you were more than just Katie’s sister, but it was pointless. It was like people’s minds were already made up. To them, your name meant you were stubborn and snappy, while your exterior made them see you as intimidating.

Eventually, it was easier to just let people think it. They didn’t like you for you anyway, so you may as well become the person they thought you were. So, you became intimidating, in and outside of football. You littered yourself with tattoos, and you got impossibly more built.

Now, nobody would bother you with general conversations, not like they did before you adopted your new scary physique anyway. Anytime you’d be called to do media, you’d firstly reject it until they’d remind you that it was in your contract and you were required to do it. After the first few where you maybe gave them five words across the whole thing, they eventually realised Katie would also have to come with you, so she would do all the talking.

You liked the dynamic of just going to and from training and chilling on your own in your house. Your teammates left you to your own devices for the most part when they soon realised you were not one to chat or joke around with. Different than your sister, who was always up for a laugh. Usually Katie would be the only person who would come to talk to you, because she’d be the only one who got a response.

You were finally better than Katie at something. You were better at scaring people off.

-

Due to injuries in the squad, you were straight into the starting XI and proving to at least the management staff that you were a quality player.

You were never one to get riled up on the pitch, but you certainly riled up those you played against. You’d mastered the technique of putting in the worst possible fair challenges. One’s that wouldn’t draw a foul, or get you booked, but one’s that left them rolling around like a child, shouting at the referee to do something.

You’d started to become more confident every time you stepped out onto the pitch. You were learning so much from playing at such a high level against the talented footballers in the league. You had practically cemented a place in the starting XI. But almost in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

A certain England defender who had been out due to injury since you joined had came back to training today. And of course Katie decided now, at 8:03am, was the perfect time to introduce you to her.

“Leah, this is Mac” Katie announced loudly as you shoved a slice of toast into your mouth. You were just sat at a table alone, not even minding who else was dotted around the room.

“Oh, I heard we got another McCabe alright” Leah playfully rolled her eyes. How did someone who hadn’t even met you already have an opinion of you?

“Don’t be rude! Say hello ye eejit” Katie frowned.

“Alright?” You greeted Leah, although she barely heard you with how low you spoke.

“Leah” Kim shouted and gestured the girl over who left Katie’s side quickly.

“Alright?” Katie teased, mimicking what you’d just said to Leah. You frowned at her, it was like your signature look that made someone know to either shut up or fuck off. “We have some photoshoot thing today” Katie informed you as she sat down across from you, taking some food off your tray.

“Since when?” You groaned, but Katie shrugged. These things didn’t bother her. She loved having her ego boosted.

“People just can’t get enough of us apparently” Katie smirked. “We’re just the best siblings to ever play in the WSL” she chuckled, grabbing another piece of food off your plate and jogging off in the opposite direction than the one Leah had walked away in. It was continuous media with Katie since you joined the club. The last photoshoot you’d done, they had put you in an Arsenal sleeveless vest top displaying your tattooed covered arms and Katie in just a sports bra with a pair of boxing gloves on. They were pointless. All of them.

You were scrolling on your phone, and munching on your food when a voice pulled your eyes back up.

“Did you see where Katie went?” Leah asked. You stuck up your hand and pointed in the direction your sister had jogged off in, along with half your breakfast. Leah had just began walking before she stopped herself. “You’re not really like Katie, are you?” She smiled as you shook your head. But that was that, Leah was the first one who showed an interest in you and not you, Katie’s sister, you, Y/n.

“It’s Y/n, by the way” you mumbled.

“What is?” Leah asked.

“Uh, my name” you stuttered. “Just she calls me Mac” you added.

“I thought it was just a weird Irish name or something” Leah laughed as you gave her back a brief one, before clearing your throat.

“Would ye wanna jo-”

“Have you seen Katie?” Another voice shouted as Leah spun around with a smile, knowing exactly who it was. “Oh, you found baby McCabe” Jordan laughed.

“Yeah, we were just talking” Leah nodded.

“Mac was talking? As if” Jordan chuckled as you frowned at her, and by the looks of it, scared the shit out of her. “Come on then” Jordan stuttered, as she took Leah by the hand and the two of them left.

Jordan was good friends with your older sister. You were just unaware that she had been dating Leah for a few years now. The same Leah that had sent you back to the bench upon returning from injury. But watching her play, you could see why you were pushed back to the bench. She was phenomenal. Every tackle, every pass, every movement was always exactly correct.

You were getting the odd few minutes here and there, usually towards the end of the game. You weren’t as reckless as your older sister. You rarely got booked or gave away fouls, but people seemed to view your aggression and strength as a negative attribute.

“Fucking McCabes”

“Learn how to win the ball”

“Takes after her sister”

That’s all anybody would say when you won the ball from them, or put in a hard challenge on them. It just fuelled you more to be better. To be better than Katie. It would rile up your sister more when a comment would be made. She would always be straight over to get a word, or throw her weight around. The worst argument you can remember was the Bristol game.

-

You raised your eyebrows when you got into the dressing room the morning of your match against Bristol. Your name was displayed right there on the team sheet, in the starting XI. There was no injuries in the team as it stood, so you’d clearly earned this on merit. Katie was beside you in defence, and Leah to your other side.

You hadn’t really spoken to Leah since that day in the canteen. You’d tried once or twice, but backed out at the last minute. It was bad because, your eyes always seemed to find her at training or in the canteen. You liked the way her nose scrunched when she laughed, or how her eyes lit up when she smiled. It took you a while to figure out you were into Leah, but you did nothing about it. She was happy with Jordan, and you couldn’t even find words to talk to her.

“Congratulations” Kim smiled at you and patted your shoulder. You gave her a quick nod and a brief smile. You respected Kim a lot, she didn’t push you into conversations or tease you. She understood that you were quiet, but she still would try to talk to you and offer you advice.

“Ye in the team?” Katie smirked as you nodded. “Get the fuck in” she smacked your head hard as you scrunched your neck in pain at the whack you just received. You headed to your cubby to put your training gear on, followed by your boots.

“You happy?” Leah asked, scooting into the seat at the locker beside your one and patting your knee.

“Uh, yeah” you nodded. Your eyes were fixated on her hand which was resting on your knee.

“You sure? You don’t look to happy?” She chuckled, removing her hand to punch you into the arm, playfully.

“Yeah” you smiled and nodded.

“Come on then” she said as she stood up and placed her hand out for you to take to help you up. “You can warm up with me”.

You jogged out onto the pitch, putting your all into the warm-up. You had to make sure nobody had any doubts as to why you would be starting today. Anything that had to be done in pairs, you and Leah were together, which left Jordan to pair with Katie. The smiles and laughing shared by the two of you didn’t go a miss by the entire team. All of them, apart from Katie, maybe, had never seen you properly smile. Some of them had never even heard you talk. Yet, here you were, having a normal conversation with Leah.

“Jordy, think you might have some competition” Beth teased as Katie began laughing loudly.

Jordan shook her head, snickering at the thought of it. Leah had hit a pass long over your head, so you jogged over to get the ball. Some people were heading in from the warm up now, Katie and Jordan not being two of them. “Baby McCabe” Jordan shouted as you got the ball and kicked it back towards Leah. “Watch yourself” she warned the second your eyes met hers.

“Fuckin’ eejit. Ye know Jordan and Leah are together. Don’t be flirtin’ with her” Katie grunted, sending another smack to your head. How she managed to get the exact same place as she did in the locker room was unbelievable.

Goals were flying into the Bristol net. They barely had a shot on target the entire game and anytime they got close, you were there to stop it. You’d usually be coming onto the pitch when Leah was coming off, so you’d never gotten to play together before. She couldn’t get over just how good of a defender you were. You’d throw your body everywhere to keep the ball from going anywhere near your goal. But any words of praise, or attempts for a high five, or even a pat on the shoulder were dodged or ignored. You knew you had to leave Leah be. You weren’t afraid of Jordan, or even your sister, but Leah had a girlfriend, and you had to respect that.

You’d slid in on Poppy, the then Bristol player, and won the ball fairly. The follow through had caught her ankle, but it wasn’t a foul, and the ref thought so too. Nonetheless, it did seem like it hurt, so you stuck your hand out and placed it on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry” you mumbled, knowing you’d hurt the girl.

“Fuck off McCabe, one of you was enough” another Bristol player shouted, shoving you off and knocking you back to the ground, thumping your head off of it as you hit it.

“Oi, fuck off” Katie growled as she pushed the player that had just pushed you. You were back on your feet now, watching the chaos unfold. There were several players now screaming and shouting at each other, but you just shook your head and walked back towards Poppy, who everyone had seemed to forgotten about.

“Ye alright?” You asked as you helped the English girl up off the ground.

“Good tackle” she laughed.

“You’re alright, yeah?” You said, looking towards her ankle.

“All good” she patted your shoulder as the two of you walked off in different directions.

“You didn’t do anything wrong” Leah whispered to you as you walked back over to your position. “You never do anything wrong” she added as you shrugged and walked away from her.

The whistle blew and the game restarted. Arsenal winning 11-1 in the end, only conceding when you’d been taken off. You’d went back over to check on Poppy at the end of the game. She insisted that she was okay again and again as you asked her a couple of times, just to be sure.

“You’re nice, you know, McCabe” she teased as you nodded. She kind of sensed that you were quiet, unlike your sister who was currently over shouting at the ref. “Text me sometime” she smiled, before walking off.

“Yeah” you nodded after her.

“What was that about?” Leah tutted, walking over towards you. You’d barely even looked up at Leah before Jordan had slid in between you both and cut across you, almost like you weren’t even there. You frowned at the much smaller girl before walking off and into the changing room.

“Jords, that was rude” Leah huffed.

“It was hardly going to be an interesting conversation” Jordan shrugged with a laugh.

-

One thing you were not better at than Katie, that you could admit, was handling your drink, due to you not drinking much. When Katie had eventually dragged you out with the team to celebrate the first half of the season being over, you were rightly smashed by the end of the night. You and Katie were heading back to Ireland in a few days to spend Christmas there with your family, so, she had somehow persuaded you to use the little Christmas spirit that you had inside of you and come out with the team.

You’d just gotten into the club, and the place was packed already. Katie had sent you straight off to the bar to get her a drink as she made her way over to the group. You were stood at the bar, waiting for the two drinks you’d just ordered, when you felt someone squeeze between you and the equally tall man next to you. You looked down to see a small, attractive blonde girl, practically tucked into your side.

“Sorry” she giggled. “I’ve been stood behind you two giants for 20 minutes”

“Sorry, love” The man chuckled, grabbing his drinks and heading away from the bar.

“You could at least get me a drink for blocking me from the bar, you know?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows at you with a smirk.

“Oh, uh” you stuttered.

“Sorry, I was just joking” She said, noticing you looked a bit flustered. When the bar man came back with you and Katie’s drink, you gestured to the girl to order her own. You held your card up so the bartender knew it was part of your order, so he quickly made her drink before you paid for all three. “Thanks babe, have a nice night” she grinned, sipping from her drink and patting your face.

You’d been with a couple of girls at this stage. After the Bristol game you may or may not have ended up in a certain blonde English player’s DMs before she’d invited you over to hers. The same English girl whose ankle you almost broke during the game. But you weren’t overly great with girls, mostly due to the fact your lips were usually sealed for 23 hours and 59 minutes of the day.

“What took ye so bleedin’ long?” Katie grunted as you got back and handed her the drink and shrugged. “Were ye talkin to that bird?” Katie laughed as you huffed and tried to walk towards the couches, but Katie wasn’t letting you away that easy. She pulled you out and onto the dance floor where the rest of the crowd was.

“Oh look who came out” Leah laughed as she put her hand on your arm, but as quick as anything removed it, due to being pulled by a drunken Jordan into a kiss. You didn’t even get a second to comprehend just how good Leah looked and how good her hand felt on your arm. You’d never been properly committed to someone before, you’d never even liked someone before, not properly anyway. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t understand the feeling in your stomach watching Jordan whisk her away.

“Why do you look so angry?” The same blonde from the bar asked. You weren’t hard to find in here, due to you towering over most people. You shrugged at her as she pulled your hand and spun around, backing herself into you as your hands dropped to her waist.

Leah and Jordan were forgotten about in that moment as you danced with the smaller girl. It wasn’t long until she smashed her lips against yours, and an even shorter time until you were being whisked over to the couches in your area, where you and the girl continued on. You were beyond the stage of drunk now. You were far too shitfaced to get this girl safely to a house, but she was more than willing to let you try. “Are you going to take me home?” she whispered against you. You stumbled to your feet, looking around for your jacket as the girl went off to tell her friends she was leaving.

“Katie, you can’t let her go like that” Jen pointed up towards you, as Katie frowned at the sight of you rummaging around and headed up to the seating area.

“Mac, ye alright?” She asked and you nodded. “Are ye goin’ with that girl?” She was only met with a nod again. You stood up and Katie had to practically catch you to make sure you wouldn’t fall.

“Someone clearly can’t handle herself” Jordan laughed, but Leah pouted at the sight of you. Her pout just turned to a look of anger as Katie willingly handed you over to a blonde stranger that you were taking home.

“Katie, surely not” Kim shook her head.

“She’s an adult. If she wants to get drunk and ride a bird what’s that got to do with me?” Katie shrugged. All Leah could do was frown at your sister. She put her annoyance down to the fact Katie let you walk away so drunk, and not that you’d walked out of here with someone that wasn’t her.

That girl wasn’t the first since you’d gotten with since you moved to London, but she most certainly was the first girl you’d slept with after you realised you had serious feelings for Leah. It became more of a frequent thing for you, going out, getting drunk and sleeping with a girl. Sometimes she’d be a footballer, and sometimes she’d be a random hook up. Either way, the mixture of some girl and the alcohol made you forget about the stupid feelings you had for Leah.

-

That is how you had found yourself here, two years later. Still sleeping around with whichever girl looked interested in you that night. You’d become a bit of a heartbreaker in the league, going through girls like they were nothing, because, really, they were. You didn’t feel anything for any of them like the way you still felt about Leah, but she was happy. She was happy with football, with her friends and with Jordan, or so you thought.

You hadn’t said a word to Leah for roughly two years, since that day you warmed up together at Bristol. That was the last day Leah heard you speak to her. She’d heard your voice in those last two years of course, usually it was just a brief one word answer or a mumble. It was never directed at her.

In the last two years, you’d become an elite young player. Nobody would dare even look you in the eye at Arsenal or Ireland. You never, ever stopped training, always running or in the gym. You had more tattoos now, barely an inch of your body was untouched. You were physically and utterly terrifying. That didn’t stop the endless stream of girls sliding into your DMs or texts, but it did stop you having friends, of which you had none.

You and Katie hadn’t qualified for the Euros in England, but you went with her and Ruesha to watch a couple of the games. Other games you went alone, as you were meeting one of the players on the team afterwards back in their hotel. Katie was invited to the England team hotel on a day off to meet up with some of the girls on the team, and brought you along. Mostly because she needed a lift due to her car getting fixed today and Ruesha was visiting her family. Katie instantly drifted off to her mates as you sat by the coffee dock in the hotel and did some work on your laptop. You were studying to get your coaching badges, and had no desire to talk to anybody.

“Y/n?” You heard from behind you as you spun around to meet the eyes of the English captain. You gave her a quick wave but she took that as an invitation to come and talk to you. “What are you doing here?” She asked.

“Uh, Katie was meetin’ Beth” you shrugged. You noticed she looked sad, she never normally looked sad. You debated just flicking back to your laptop, but you couldn’t because you were still just that softie who really liked her. “Ye alright?” You asked, with a look of genuine concern on your face that Leah was taken aback by.

“Yeah” she nodded unconvincingly. “Just, you know, you probably heard me and Jordan broke up. And then coming straight into camp was tough” Leah pouted, looking like she was going to cry.

“I didn’t hear” you shook your head, closing your laptop and standing up. You’re not really sure why you hugged her, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Will I get ye somethin’?” You asked.

She’d asked you for a tea and you rushed over to order one without even thinking. You came back with one and a little treat, before you sat back down, just to your surprise she sat down opposite you. You never invited her to sit down, or told her to vent to you about all her problems, but you were more than happy to let her talk.

You liked Leah. You liked Leah a lot. Since the day you met her you had a soft spot for her. During her rambling, she dropped her key card on the ground and reached down to pick it up. You threw your hand on the edge of the table to cover the area where she would have possibly whacked her head if she moved too quickly. You always whacked your head off of everything and knew she was a bit clumsy too.

“Sorry, I’m just rambling on” Leah chuckled pathetically when she’d came to her senses.

“Take all the time ye need to talk” you waved your hands, reassuring her it was fine for her to continue.

“Everyone is so wrong about you” Leah shook her head, and reached for the ring on your thumb. You didn’t move your hand away when she gripped it. “They think you’re terrifying or intimidating, when actually you’re a big softie” she chuckled with a light sob.

“I, uh, I think they have me figured out” you shrugged, still trying to put on the facade of being intimidating.

“No” Leah shook her head in disagreement. “I don’t think so”. Your face had a softer expression on it than it usually did, until you felt a pair of hands on the back of your shoulders.

“Come on, grumpy” Katie teased, squeezing your shoulders. “Sorry, am I interruptin’?” Katie asked. You shook your head and stood up, not looking at Leah again and walked off towards the door. “Ye alright?” Katie asked Leah who nodded and got up from the table now.

That was the last time you spoke to Leah again, not even texting her to say congratulations when she won the Euros. You were too busy sending off commiserations and a how long will you be in London? text to a German player who slipped away from the team hotel that night and over to your house.

It was easier this way.

-

When you got back to Arsenal after the Euros, the club had organised a night out for the team to celebrate the girls who had won the competition. On the same night, Jordan announced she was moving to Villa for the upcoming season. You frowned at the smaller, older girl’s announcement because tonight wasn’t about her. Well, it wasn’t meant to be.

Most girls seemed to be having a nice night, but not Leah. She was slumped against a pillar with a drink in her hand, clearly overly drunk. Everyone else seemed too drunk to notice the state she was in. You looked around to see if anybody else was going to move to check on her, but nobody was taking notice. You groaned as you pushed your way through people to get to her.

“Leah” you shouted over the music as you got infront of her. She smiled when she saw you, but it was a drunken smile. She was stumbling around as she pushed her back off the pillar, your hands instantly found her waist to keep her on her feet.

“Take me back to yours” she slurred in a whispered tone, hands gripping the back of your neck tightly.

“Not tonight” you shook your head. There was no way in hell you were taking her back to your house while she was in this much of a state.

“I want you so bad” she smirked as she gripped your neck harder. You gently removed her hands from you before she was physically pulled away.

“Come dance” Jordan groaned, shooting you a stern look.

“Jords” Leah giggled and smashed her lips into hers. You knew Leah would regret that, but not as much as she would regret going home with you. You stormed off, back towards where all your stuff was and began to pull your stuff together. You weren’t sober, but you were definitely the most with it person on the team. Nobody else could probably put together a coherent sentence right now, which is probably why she thought she could confide in you.

“Y/n” Lia whispered and you could tell she was crying. You looked at her funny, wondering why she was crying to you of all people. You’d never even said hello to each other before. She fell into your arms and you made sure she knew you didn’t mind, clearly she needed it. You looked over her head, to see Katie and Caitlin dancing very close. “Are you leaving? Can I go with you?” Lia asked. You nodded at her and handed her your stuff, telling her you’d be out in a minute, as she walked outside the club. You brushed by Jordan and Leah trying to get to Katie.

“Fucking watch yourself” Jordan snapped.

“Yeah? Or what?” You pushed back your shoulders as you walked towards her.

“Oh you talk now do you? Thought it was just my girlfriend you talked to” Jordan laughed.

“Your ex girlfriend, ye mean?” You rolled your eyes at her and walked off.

“Fucking moron” Jordan shouted. You stopped abruptly, turning back to stomp back towards her. You ripped Jordan away from Leah, who instantly started shouting for Katie. You didn’t, unfortunately, get to hit Jordan because your sister never reacted so fast in her life to get you away.

“The fuck do ye think you’re doin’? I’ve told ye to leave Leah out of your little-” Katie screamed.

“What do I think I’m doin’? What the fuck are you doin’?” You shouted, cutting across her and pointing at Caitlin. “Ruesha is fuckin’ waitin’ for ye at your house”. Katie looked guilty, but you’d caught her with something that she couldn’t exactly argue back on. You took that as your opportunity to leave and got Lia safely into a taxi.

“Where to?” The taxi man shouted and you looked at Lia to call out her address first.

“Take me to yours” she whispered. You’d already fucked that with Leah so you weren’t going wreck it with Lia too. You gave the taxi man your address and he sped off. She wasn’t Leah, but that didn’t matter right now.

You and Lia were all over each other when you got to your house. She was barely giving you a second to ask her if she was okay with this. She was clearly just looking for you to take her mind off her now, ex girlfriend, cheating on her.

“Lia” you eventually got out as you pulled her away. “I dunno” you shook your head.

“It’s not serious” she reassured you, trying to lean in again.

“No it’s just-” you sighed. “I really like Leah” you admitted.

“You do?” She asked and you nodded. “Does she know?” You shook your head. Despite the kiss being nice, it didn’t go further. You and Lia ended up on your couch talking all night about her being upset and your feelings for Leah.

“Do ye need me to do anythin’? I could speak to Katie if-” you offered, but Lia didn’t want you to. She was fully done with Caitlin now.

You were there for her through the entire break up. More so than you were there for Katie when her and Ruesha split up. You and Lia became friendly, much to the annoyance of your sister, Lia’s ex girlfriend and none other than Leah Williamson herself.

You would be over in her apartment or her in your house. Sometimes driving to and from training together. Leah and Lia were very close, but Lia never told her about your feelings for her. Well, she tried not too. She held onto the secret for a good few months.

Leah was over in Lia’s apartment, watching the Arsenal men’s match and hiding behind the cushion to cover her eyes from how bad they were playing. Lia didn’t seem too phased, just tapping away on her phone with a big grin on her face. You knew Lia had started seeing someone else, and she made Lia happy.

“Who you texting?” Leah frowned at her smirking friend.

“Nothing, nobody” Lia stuttered, closing her phone and putting it beside her.

“You can tell me you and Y/n are seeing each other, it’s fine. It’s obvious” Leah shrugged, turning her attention back to the TV

“Me and Y/n?” Lia laughed hysterically.

“Yeah, I mean-” Leah tried to explain.

“If you must know everything, I’m texting my actual girlfriend” Lia snickered.

“You have a girlfriend?” Leah raised her eyebrows. “Do I know her?”

“It’s Mariona, that plays for Barcelona” Lia smiled and Leah smiled back at her, wrapping her into a hug.

“You deserve someone nice” Leah added before turning her attention back to the TV.

“So do you, Lee” Lia said softly rubbing her shoulder. “I did try with Y/n” Lia admitted, which got Leah’s attention again.

“Oh yeah?” Leah asked, with a slight look of jealousy on her face that Lia noticed immediately.

“That night at the Euro’s party, she took me home and I kissed her, but she said she didn’t want it to go further” Lia said.

“She would fuck anything with a pulse” Leah groaned.

“I’m not so sure about that” Lia laughed, but Leah only looked at her with a face of pure confusion.

“What?” Leah frowned as Lia sighed. Someone had to tell her and it was obvious that someone was never going to be you.

“The night we kissed, she told me she was really hung up on someone, but they were with someone else. But then that person got broken up with, but that same night, she kissed her ex” Lia subtly tried to point out but noticed the look on Leah’s face indicated she wasn’t following. “Think harder” Lia groaned. It took a couple more seconds, but it clicked in Leah’s head. You liked her.

“Me?” Leah gasped as Lia nodded.

“She’s liked you since she met you, but you were with Jordan and she didn’t want to move on” Lia shrugged. “Wait, do you like her?” She asked, when she noticed Leah’s smile.

“I-” Leah stuttered. “Yeah” she nodded as Lia squeezed her shoulders and squealed. “Oh for fuck sake” Leah shouted as Arsenal conceded.

-

Leah didn’t act right away, she had only split up with Jordan a few months at this stage and was still getting used to being single.

“You’re still coming later?” Lia asked, poking your nose.

“For you, yes” you smirked. “But ye know I don’t want to”. You hadn’t been on a team night out since you had threatened to kill Jordan and Katie, your sister that you barely spoke to anymore.

You and Lia were dancing together, a bit drunk. You tended to stay with her a lot now, making sure she was okay. Mariona liked you too, she’d tried to set you up with multiple Barcelona girls but none really worked out. Not long term anyway.

“Can I steal her?” Leah asked as you nodded and walked away, presuming she was asking you about Lia. “Hey” Leah shouted, grabbing your wrist. “I meant you”

“Oh” you breathed out as Lia smirked at you, pointing at Leah and mouthing something you could only presume was her begging you to admit your feelings. “Ye okay?” You asked, letting your fingertips fall to her waist.

“Do you want to dance?” Leah shouted so you could hear her. She took your hand and pulled you into the dance floor. The two of you were dancing together, hands falling tightly on the other.

“Lee” you grumbled into her shoulder.

“Stop talking” she demanded. You barely talked anyway, so it wasn’t hard to grant her request. Your hands roamed her body as hers snaked up your neck. “Tell me- tell me what you told Lia” she slurred in your ear. “About me” she added, for context.

“I like ye” you stated bluntly. She pulled your hand and took you out of the night club and into a taxi. When you got back to hers, she leaned in to kiss you but you moved away. “Ye sure ye want this? I don’t want you to do anythin’ ye don’t feel comfortable with because you deserve-” you tried to ramble on but she couldn’t take it anymore. She kissed you hard and you wrapped your hands around her thighs, pulling them around your waist and lifting her off the ground in the process.

“Where’s your bedroom?” You mumbled as she pointed to the door on the right in her apartment. You got both of you in there before placing her gently on the bed. “Ye sure?” You asked again.

“Just get in, you big softie” she snickered as you got onto the bed. You made quick work removing her clothes, as she pulled your top up and over your head. “I didn’t know you had this many” she traced along the tattoos on your chest and stomach.

“I like this one” you mumbled, placing your finger on the tattoo on her ribs.

“I like you” she said, kissing you again.

You woke the next morning with Leah sleeping soundly against you. It was different with her, neither of you rushed out of bed when you’d both woken up.

“Was last night okay?” You asked as she looked at you with a frown.

“How do people actually find you intimidating?” She laughed, pressing a kiss to your lips as her hand cupped your cheek. “Last night was more than okay” she nodded.

“I don’t want it to be a one time thing” you said.

“It was never that for me” she reassured you.

“So you’re happy bein’ my girlfriend then?” You asked as she smirked.

“As long as Lia doesn’t mind sharing you” she giggled as you rolled your eyes and kissed her again.

[rach067]

Mister Fluffly hair on the house!!!!! And he scored a goal? Please, give him that ballon d'or already! 😩😩😩

Oh Pedri, the man you are 😩💛

[rach067]

LA LIGA | ATHLETIC CLUB v FC BARCELONA may 25, 2025

[rach067]

Lesbianism got the best of me, I fear

[rach067]

Inside of Love

⤑ Summary: Pedri moves through loud and quiet moments that slowly reveal a truth he can't ignore — he wants the kind of love everyone else around him seems to have already found. Angst & fluff. Pedri x reader!

⤑ Word count: 7,800+.

⤑ A/N: Based on Inside of Love by Nada Surf & himym (very loosely). Hope you enjoy!

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Watching terrible TV, it kills all thought. Getting spacier than an astronaut. *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"¡Montoya, por favor!"

The host's voice cracked through the speakers, desperate and helpless, as Montoya sprinted down the beach like a man possessed.

Fer choked on his drink from laughing so hard. "Look at it, it looks like a war scene, not a reality show," he wheezed, rewinding the scene to watch Montoya's heartbreak unfold all over again. 

Pedri just stared.

Montoya's face — twisted with betrayal, disbelief — stuck with him. That unfiltered pain. The rawness of it. The moment his world cracked open for everyone to see. And yet, there was love underneath it. Or something that once was love. Enough to make a man run like that. Enough to make a nation gasp.

Pedri bit his lip, eyes glued to the screen. But he wasn't laughing.

Fer noticed, nudging him, "What's wrong with you? Don't tell me that 'Montoya, por favor' moved you."

"No, no," Pedri muttered, shaking his head, but it lingered.

He wasn't sure why it hit him so hard. Maybe it was the fact that even Montoya — messy, dramatic, impulsive Montoya — had felt something that deeply. Had something to lose.

Something real enough to break over. Pedri hadn't even come close.

He reached for a handful of popcorn, missed the bowl completely, and sighed.

He felt like a ghost sometimes. Floating through parties, fake smiles, hollow conversations. Never running toward anything. Never being stopped by someone calling his name like they meant it. He wasn't sure if it was funny or devastating anymore.

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Making out with people I hardly know or like. I can't believe what I do, late at night. *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The club was too dark and too loud. Bass thumped beneath his feet like a second, relentless heartbeat, and the strobe lights fractured the room into jagged, breathless moments.

Flash — a girl laughing too close to his ear, her hand curling around his wrist like she owned it. Flash — Gavi pressing a drink into his hand, shouting something he couldn't hear over the music. Flash — the girl again, her voice high and eager, talking a mile a minute.

Pedri nodded along, barely listening at first. Until the words sank in.

"I can't believe it," she giggled, swaying into him. "I'm talking to Pedri, you know? Pedri! From Barça. You're like... I don't know, a legend already."

He forced a tight smile. Took a sip of the drink he didn't want.

She kept going, breathless with excitement, as if she hadn't noticed he hadn't said a word. As if he wasn't a person standing there — just a jersey, a name, a story to brag about later. "My friends aren't going to believe me when I tell them," she said, her fingers tapping against his chest like she was checking if he was real. "Can you imagine the photo? Me and Pedri. How cool."

Pedri swallowed hard, the music pressing against his temples. He knew this feeling. The weight of being looked at without ever really being seen. He couldn't listen to another second.

Before she could rattle off another breathless sentence about how "cool" it was to meet him, he kissed her. Fast. Sharp. Just enough to shut her up.

Her lips tasted of strawberry lip gloss and cheap tequila. She gasped in surprise, freezing for half a second before smiling into it, pulling him closer like she thought it meant something more. He let her think that. For a few seconds, he let himself think that too.

Then he pulled back, gave her a lazy, practiced grin, and slipped away into the crowd without a word.

In the men's room, he stared at himself under the harsh lights. Red cheeks. Messy hair. Empty eyes.

"What the hell are you doing?" he muttered, gripping the sink until his knuckles turned white. He splashed water onto his face, hoping to rinse away the hollow feeling clinging to his skin.

He used to believe it would happen differently.  That love — real love — would find him if he just stayed good. Stayed focused.

Now he was just burning through nights. Burning through kisses that meant nothing. And when the music faded and the night ended, he was always right back where he started.

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ I wanna know what it's like on the inside of love. I'm standing at the gates, I see the beauty above. *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

His parents danced in the kitchen sometimes. Not always. Not in a grand, dramatic way. But every once in a while, when the radio hummed out one of those old Spanish ballads his dad loved, something about it would pull his mom's gaze. She'd smirk, like she was in on a secret, then stretch out her hand. And his father, always a little goofy, always a little ready to make her laugh, would take it without hesitation.

Pedri had caught them, just a few weeks ago, early in the evening when the house was still bathed in that warm, soft light. The scent of lentejas bubbled from the pot on the stove, filling every corner of the house. He'd been passing through the hallway, halfway to the fridge, when he noticed the quiet sound of his dad's voice — soft and off-key, like it always was when he tried to sing.

His mom was in her slippers, the kind she never wore in public, just around the house, her hair loose and pulled back messily. Her head was resting against his dad's shoulder, but the way she looked at him — it was like there was no one else in the world, just them and the music.

Pedri stood frozen in the doorway, watching them. The way his dad swayed with an awkward, endearing kind of rhythm, his mom smiling like she didn't care what anyone thought. It was the kind of thing no one noticed unless they were really looking.

But Pedri did. He always did. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it. But it always hit him harder than he expected, like a wave that pulled him under before he had time to brace himself.

His parents had been through so much. They'd moved towns, more than once, started over, found new jobs, put everything they had into raising two boys who would one day grow up and leave home. It wasn't always pretty. There had been fights, long nights of uncertainty, tears, and stress. And still — after more than twenty-five years — they held onto each other like they hadn't forgotten how to.

They'd built a life together. They'd been through everything together. And yet, there they were, still looking at each other like the world hadn't changed them, like they could still be those young lovers in the kitchen, dancing with nothing more than the sound of their song and the echo of laughter.

Pedri shifted his weight, staying just beyond the doorway, invisible. His eyes stayed glued to the scene, even though he knew they didn’t see him. His mom's smile had that warmth in it — the kind that came from a place deep inside. It was effortless. Real. The kind of love that never needed to be validated.

He didn't know if he'd ever have that.

He wanted it. So much. Not the kind of love that was paraded around on Instagram. Not the flashy, public gestures or the quick kisses for the camera. He wanted quiet love. The kind that didn't need to shout. The one that existed between two people, built over years, with laughter and tears, with patience and compromise. The kind of love that didn't go away when the party ended or the lights faded. He wanted to be part of something like that — a love that stayed when the excitement wore off. When the world stopped spinning and it was just the two of them, sharing an ordinary day. But he wasn't there. He was always on the outside, standing at the gates of it. Watching it. Longing for it. But never quite finding his way in.

"Algún día," his mom had whispered to him once, a long time ago, after a long day when he was still a kid. She had brushed his hair back as he sat on the kitchen floor, watching her chop vegetables. "Te vas a enamorar de verdad, mijo. Vas a ver qué bonito es desde dentro." (One day, you're going to really fall in love, son. You'll see how beautiful it is from the inside).

He hadn't really understood what she meant back then. He hadn't needed to. But now, as he watched them, his parents moving in slow, contented circles to a song that no one else could hear, he thought he might finally get it.

He hoped she was right. Because right now, all he had was the ache of wanting it. The quiet, constant yearning. And maybe that was enough for now. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more. Something real, waiting just beyond his reach. Something that wasn't just the kind of love that filled stadiums and created headlines. It was the kind of love that stayed, no matter what.

And he couldn't help but wonder: Would he ever be the one to find it?

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Only when we get to see the aerial view will the patterns show. We'll know what to do. *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Sometimes he wondered if football had taught him to live too straight. Lines on the field. Lines in his life. Get up early. Train. Eat right. Rest. Focus. Win. There was a plan for everything — a structure, a rhythm to follow, like the predictable beat of a metronome. If you followed it, things worked out. If you played by the rules, the ball would eventually find its way into the net.

But love didn't follow a tactical map. There were no arrows drawn on a whiteboard for that. No strategies. No drills. No team talks about how to navigate the mess of feelings, misunderstandings, and moments that didn't make sense.

He remembered once — after a match in Madrid — stopping for coffee in a little café near the hotel. It was a small place with a quirky vibe: mismatched chairs, tiny wooden tables, and the faint hum of indie music in the background.

A girl had approached his table. She had curly hair that bounced slightly when she walked, and green headphones around her neck, a little carelessly thrown on, like she'd just taken them off in a hurry.

"Is it alright if I sit here?" she asked, her voice hesitant but not shy. She wasn't starstruck, and didn't know him from any other footballer. He'd said yes, out of habit. He wasn't used to saying no in situations like that. Besides, he liked the silence. He liked the anonymity of being just another person at a café, not Pedri, the star.

They ended up talking for an hour. Not about football. Not about his matches or his career, or her favorite team. No. They talked about books, mostly. She told him she loved fantasy novels, and how she'd reread The Hobbit at least five times. She asked him if he had ever read One Hundred Years of Solitude, but he hadn't, so she spent a few minutes describing it — the layers of magic and tragedy woven together. They talked about dogs too. She had one — a golden retriever named Tango — who was so friendly he could practically carry a conversation. And when she spoke about him, Pedri could hear the affection in her voice. It wasn't just an ordinary dog. It was her companion, her friend. Then, they talked about Sundays. She said Sundays always felt a little sad to her, like the promise of a new week weighed too heavy to be joyful.

Pedri listened. He was good at listening. Good at staying quiet while others filled the space with words. He wondered if that's how people fell in love — just by showing up, listening, being there in those little moments.

When she stood up to leave, she smiled and said, "It was nice meeting you, Pedro." The way she said it — as if it was a casual parting, not something monumental. And yet it felt like something bigger to him. She didn't even ask for his number. Didn't ask for his Instagram or to keep in touch. She just smiled and walked out, and that was it. 

He never saw her again. Moments like that came back to him sometimes. Quietly. Not with regret. Just with a kind of wonder. Was that something? Could it have been?

He often thought about that meeting. And others like it. Those scattered, brief encounters with strangers who weren't impressed by who he was. Who didn't know his last name or care about his next match. Just people who talked to him because, in that moment, they were two humans sharing a space.

But football had always been a clear path. There was always a next match, a next flight, a next tournament. He couldn't afford distractions, especially when there was so much to prove. And so he kept going. Straight ahead. Like he'd been taught. No matter what moments he'd missed along the way. No matter who he hadn't gotten to know.

Now, sometimes, he looked back at those scattered, quiet moments and wished he could step outside himself — trace the pattern they'd drawn without knowing it. Maybe then he'd understand it. The way those people, those fleeting interactions, those missed connections fit into something bigger. Something he couldn't see when he was inside it.

Maybe love worked like that. Maybe you couldn't see it when you were in it, tangled up in your own expectations, focused on the finish line, always chasing the next achievement. Maybe you had to get above it, far enough away, to recognize where you were meant to go. For now, he still felt lost.

And maybe, just maybe, one day, from a higher view... the path would make sense. And he'd look back and see all the pieces falling into place, one by one. For now, though, he could only hope.

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ I know the last page so well, I can't read the first. So I just don't start, it's getting worse. *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Pedri had always been good at endings. He'd seen them play out time and time again, with an all-too-clear predictability. Love started, blossomed, and then — just as certain as him being in Tenerife when the season was over — it faded.

The same cycle he'd witnessed over and over. He'd seen it with his friends, his teammates, even his cousins. They'd swear they'd found the one, the person they would grow old with, only for that bond to dissolve three years later, leaving nothing but regret and awkward conversations at family gatherings. 

Ferran and Sira had been different, though. Their love had looked so real. Pedri had watched them from the sidelines, noticed the way Ferran would light up when she called him, how they shared inside jokes, how their hands fit so easily together. There was something about the way they moved through the world — together, always in sync, like they had already figured it out. They had something many people only dream of. It was right there in front of him, visible, undeniable.

He remembered the way Ferran had talked about Sira, the little sparks in his eyes when her name came up in conversation. He had been happy. They had been happy. It had been the kind of love that seemed to defy everything. The kind of love you couldn't fake. The kind you wanted to believe in.

Then, one day, it ended. Just like that. No warning. No clear reason. Just one final conversation, and that was it.

Ferran came back to his house one night, and Pedri could see it in his eyes — the weight of it, the way he carried the broken pieces. Sira was gone, and suddenly, Ferran was a little more hollow, a little more distant. Pedri had been there for him, of course. The conversations, the late-night talks, the reassuring pats on the back. He'd done his best to help pick up the pieces of his friend's heart. But some things, he knew, couldn't be fixed so easily.

"What happened?" Pedri had asked him once, not knowing how to comfort him. "Why did it end?"  Ferran had just sighed, wiping a hand over his face. "I don't know. We just… couldn't keep it together anymore." His voice had been thick with something that wasn't just sadness, but a deep, exhausted kind of disappointment. Like he'd given all he had, but it still wasn't enough. Like love just wasn't enough. Pedri had seen that look in Ferran's eyes, and for the first time, he understood the weight of what love could be. It wasn't always about passion or grand gestures. Sometimes it was just the slow build, the quiet moments of connection. And sometimes, when it fell apart, it left a hole too big to fill.

The thought of that — of love coming and going, of starting something that would eventually slip through his fingers — made him hesitate. Why even try? He had seen how deep the cuts could go. He didn't want to experience that firsthand.

And Ferran had seemed to reflect that same weariness. The same caution that Pedri had built into his own life. They'd both learned, one way or another, that love wasn't a guarantee. Not like a perfect assist or a goal in extra time. Just as sure as it came, it could disappear in an instant.

Pedri didn't want to put himself in that position. He thought about all of it as he sat on the edge of his bed, scrolling through his phone, his fingers numb against the glass. The texts he ignored. The time he let slip away. The nights when the silence felt too heavy, when he told himself he wasn't ready for love, that it was better to keep things casual.

But in his bones, he knew. It wasn't fear of the heartbreak that held him back anymore. It was exhaustion. Exhaustion from waiting for something that might never come, or worse, from hoping it would only to watch it fall apart. He didn't know what it felt like to hold something real. The kind of love his parents had, the kind of love Ferran had with Sira before it all unraveled. The one he sometimes thought might pass him by.

But maybe he was wrong. Maybe he hadn't been looking at it the right way. Maybe, if he could stop worrying about the end and start letting himself feel something along the way, he might just recognize it when it came — before it slipped away for good.

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ I wanna know what it's like on the inside of love. I'm standing at the gates, I see the beauty above. *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Tienes novia?" The question was always there, always the same, lingering in the air after each match, each press conference, each training session. It came from the reporters who tried to see beyond the athlete, looking for the human side of the star. They wanted a story, something personal to dissect. (Do you have a girlfriend?).

And Pedri had gotten good at answering it with practiced ease, a routine smile that shielded the vulnerability beneath. "No, estoy muy joven todavía," he said that day, the words slipping off his tongue like they had a hundred times before. The smile was a little too smooth, a little too rehearsed — the kind of smile you wear when you're trying to cover up what's really going on inside. (No, I'm still too young).

It was a lie, but not in the way most people assumed.

Sure, he was young. Sure, his career was everything. But that wasn't why he wasn't ready. It wasn't about being too focused on football or not having enough time. It wasn't even about age, despite what he told himself and others. The truth, the real truth, was much more difficult to admit. He wasn't ready solely because he was scared. Scared of something he couldn't even name. Scared of walking into a world that seemed so full of love, of connection, while he stood on the sidelines, unable to cross the threshold.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the studio windows as the interview moved on, his eyes lingering on his own face. He still saw the same kid he'd been when he started this journey, a player with dreams, with hopes, but a growing distance between him and the life he wanted outside of football.

I'm still too young. It was easier to say than the truth.

The truth was, love terrified him. Not the idea of it — the daydreams, the stories — but the reality of finding it, building it, holding onto it. His parents had the kind of love that felt timeless: shaped by years of shared memories, quiet struggles, and unshakable laughter. They were each other's anchor, each other's safe haven. He'd grown up watching it unfold — the way his mother's eyes softened when his father practiced his old goalkeeping drills, or how a single glance between them across the kitchen table said everything when Fer came home with a bad grade. That kind of love didn't just happen. It was rare. And Pedri knew it.

He recalled the times his mom had told him, over and over again, "Vas a ver, Pedri, el amor es bonito. Te va a llegar." She believed it. She was certain. But Pedri wasn't. (You'll see, Pedri, love is beautiful. It'll come to you).

What if it didn't? What if love wasn't meant for him? That feeling of being on the outside, watching people walk through doors he couldn’t reach — it was suffocating.

His hands clenched around the steering wheel as he left the training ground, his mind spinning with all the things he couldn't shake. He wasn't afraid of commitment. He didn't think he was afraid of being loved. He was afraid of never being able to find that love in the first place. The kind that felt like something real. The kind that wasn't fleeting, or superficial, or hollow.

He thought about how easy it seemed for others — how love found them without effort, like it had been waiting just around the corner. He'd seen it in his friends, younger teammates who lit up around someone who made them laugh without trying. He saw it at home, too — his parents, who had built something lasting from nothing, who turned ordinary days into a life shared. That was love. And still, the weight of living up to something like that — the fear of not being enough for it — lingered quietly in the back of his mind.

How could he know if he was enough for it when he didn't even know how to start?

It was easier to stay on the outside. To tell himself that he wasn't ready. To tell himself that the time wasn't right. That love could wait, just like everything else in his life. But deep down, the uncertainty gnawed at him. He didn't know how to trust himself enough to open a door, to take the risk. He wasn't sure he would know what to do if he ever stepped inside.

He also thought about the nights when he felt like an imposter. He'd be surrounded by people at parties or dinners, his laugh easy, his presence effortless. But inside, there was a loneliness that clung to him. A kind of quiet ache. He wondered what it would be like to find someone who understood that. To have someone by his side who wasn't just there because he was Pedri, but because they saw him — the person behind the name, the player, the public figure.

Would it be enough to make him feel whole? Or would it slip away before he had a chance to hold on?

Pedri sighed, letting his fingers trail across the steering wheel as the city lights passed by. Maybe his mom was right. Maybe love would come eventually, just like she said. But for now, standing at the gates of it, he didn't know if he was ready to walk through. Not yet. Not until he could trust that the door wouldn't close behind him once he stepped in.

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ I wanna know what it's like on the inside of love. I can't find my way in, I try again and again. *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

He had to try, right? If he kept waiting, kept pretending he wasn't interested in anything more than the casual, empty moments he'd always found so easy to slide into, nothing would ever change.

It started simple.

A dinner with a girl named Clara, someone he met through a friend at a social event. She was pretty—in that model-like effortless way. Her smile was warm, and her laugh was the kind that made him feel lighter, like he didn't have to be Pedri, the footballer. Just Pedri, the guy who loved talking about video games and places he wanted to see.

They spent hours talking that night. Not about football. Not about fame. Just about the little things. The kind of conversations that felt like they had no weight, no expectations. She asked him about his childhood, his favorite video games, and the last movie he watched. He asked her about her favorite books, her travels, what she dreamed of doing when she wasn't chasing deadlines. It was real, he told himself, or at least it felt like it.

For once, he felt like he could breathe without the weight of his public persona hanging over him. There was no footballer. There was no press. Just two people, sitting across from each other, talking like normal people.

It was easy. Light. Natural.

But as the days passed, it started to feel less real and more like something that should feel real, but didn't. They had a few more dates. Each one more predictable than the last. Dinner here. A walk in the park there. Casual, comfortable.

But something was always missing.

Clara was sweet. Easy to talk to, fun to be around. He liked her — genuinely. But it wasn't enough. It just wasn't love. Not really. There was something off-kilter about it, not loud or dramatic, just a quiet discomfort, like a pebble in his shoe he couldn't quite shake. He kept wondering, Is this it? Maybe he was just overthinking. Maybe it was him — being restless, overcritical, afraid to settle. He tried to silence the doubts, to convince himself they didn't matter. But they lingered, creeping in at the edges of every silence, every forced smile. No matter how hard he tried to ignore them, they stayed.

One evening, after a walk near the beach, when the air was cool and the city lights sparkled in the distance, Clara turned to him. Her face serious, but her voice gentle, "Pedri, what are we doing here?" He hadn't been expecting it, and for the first time, he didn't have an answer.

"I... I don't know," he said honestly, running his fingers through his hair. "I just... I don't know what I'm looking for. I'm trying."

It was the first time he had said it aloud. I'm trying. But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many dates he went on or how much he wanted to believe in the moments they shared, there was still a distance. He still felt like he was on the outside.

Clara looked at him for a moment, and then a soft smile curled at the edges of her lips. "It's okay," she said gently. "I think we both know this isn't it."

That was it. That was the moment. It wasn't failure. It wasn't rejection. It wasn't even a breakup. It was just... nothing. A moment that never became something.

Pedri stood there, at the edge of the beach, with the sand still warm beneath his shoes, but the emptiness in his chest felt cold. He watched the waves crash against the shore, and for the first time in weeks, he wasn't sure what to do next.

He walked away from that night with a strange emptiness, not from losing her, but from the quiet realization that maybe he simply wasn't ready for something real. He tried. He really did. But he still couldn't find his way in. He couldn't find his way. At times, it felt that it wasn't just in love. It was in life. In everything, but football. He'd been trying for so long, but nothing ever seemed to fit.

And the more he tried, the more it seemed like he was getting further away from what he truly wanted.

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ I'm on the outside of love. Always under or above. I can't find my way in, I try again and again.  *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The Copa del Rey final had been everything Pedri had dreamed of. The roar of the crowd, the weight of the trophy in his hands — everything felt like it was supposed to. He had worked for this moment, and now it was here, a symbol of his effort and determination.

He had scored — a clean strike from outside the box that curled past the keeper — and the stadium had erupted. It should have been the kind of moment that stayed suspended in time, frozen with joy. And for a second, it was. As his teammates swarmed him, his eyes instinctively searched the stands. He looked for his family — the ones who had been there before all the noise and the glory. And when he found them, arms raised and smiling wide, a warm pride bloomed in his chest. He loved them. He was proud to be theirs.

But even in that moment, with everything he'd ever wanted in front of him, a quiet thought slipped in — uninvited yet persistent. Shouldn't I be looking for someone else? Shouldn't there be someone else I should be sharing this with?

As the final whistle blew, the team erupted in celebration — cheers, laughter, champagne spraying into the air. But amidst the jubilant chaos, a quiet ache slowly began to creep into his chest, growing heavier with each passing minute. The noise of the celebration, the faces around him, all blurred into the background, and in their place, a subtle emptiness settled in, impossible to ignore.

He glanced around at the others. Gavi — never one to take much seriously — was completely absorbed in his girlfriend's laughter, her hand resting lightly on his arm as they shared a joke meant only for them. Nearby, Fermín leaned in close to his partner, their heads tilted together, voices low, like the rest of the world had quietly faded away. Then there were the older players, Raphinha, Lewandoswki — the ones who had already built families, their lives rooted in homes full of memory and affection. The kind of love shaped by time, by years of growing side by side, of weathering life together until it all fit without effort.

He didn't feel jealousy. He felt that all-too-familiar longing — the quiet ache for something just out of reach, no matter how hard he'd tried to grasp it.

Yes, he had his family, and that… that was everything. It had to be. His parents, Fernando and Rosy, had given him the kind of love that formed the bedrock of who he was. He still remembered the early mornings, when the sky was barely blue and his father was already in the car, waiting to drive him to training. The quiet pride in Rosy's eyes when he came home tired but smiling. The sacrifices they made — the hours, the money, the blind faith — all poured into his dreams without ever asking for anything in return. Fer had been his shadow and his cheerleader, always pushing him forward, even when he wanted to slow down. And he was grateful — deeply, fiercely grateful. But still, in this moment, surrounded by the quiet intimacy of others — stolen glances, soft touches, laughter shared in whispers — he couldn't help but wonder if there was something more waiting for him. Something he hadn't yet found.

For a second, he allowed himself to drift into the thought. He wasn't just craving the affection that came with winning, or the recognition. He wanted real connection. Something that wasn't born out of duty or circumstance but from mutual understanding, from sharing moments that had nothing to do with football. A love that wasn't just about celebrating trophies but about celebrating life, together.

But how? He'd been caught in the rhythm of his career for so long, constantly on the move, living in a world that required him to put his heart in the backseat, to focus on the game. And whenever he tried, whenever he made an effort to go beyond the surface with someone, he ended up feeling like he was faking it. The connection wasn't deep enough. The effort didn't feel right. No matter how many times he tried, it always slipped through his fingers.

And yet, as he stood there, the cool air brushing against his skin, holding the trophy that symbolized everything he had worked for, he couldn't ignore the ache. The weight of it starting to feel unbearable.

He had everything a footballer could ask for — success, recognition, a bright future. But at that moment, it didn't matter. Not really. He stared at the trophy in his hands, his fingers tightening around the cool metal, but it didn't bring him the comfort he expected.

The quiet loneliness wrapped itself around him again, more present than it had ever been before. He thought about all those moments he had seen in others — moments of genuine connection, of love. Of something that wasn't earned by victory, but by time, by knowing someone truly and fully.

It felt like he was always on the outside looking in.

He wanted to experience that feeling. To look at someone and know they saw him, just as him. To have someone in his life who would understand the quiet moments, the struggles behind the scenes, someone who would stand by him, not because of his career, not because of material things he could offer, but because they simply wanted to.

But tonight, as he stood alone, waiting for his family to join him on the field, a weight heavier than the trophy in his hands settled in his chest. It wasn't failure. It wasn't even disappointment. It was the simple truth that, no matter how much he had, something important was missing. And for the first time, he wasn't sure how to fill that gap.

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ I'm on the outside of love - always under or above. Must be a different view to be a me with a you. *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The wedding reception was warm, almost golden — the kind of light that made everything look softer, more intimate. Pedri sat quietly at a round table near the edge of the room, his hands wrapped loosely around a glass, his tie slightly loosened. The venue — an old finca in the hills above Tegueste — overflowed with laughter and the scent of jasmine and grilled fish, the kind of food that reminded him of long childhood summers.

He should've felt at home. Javier was one of his oldest friends. They used to ride bikes through the streets until their legs gave out, play pickup games until the sun disappeared behind the mountains. And now, Javier was standing in front of everyone — suit perfectly tailored, eyes locked on Lucía as if she were gravity itself.

"Thank you all for joining us today," Javier began, raising his glass. His voice was thick with emotion, just barely holding steady. "But above all… thank you, Lucía. Because you didn't just marry me today. You saved me. You made me believe in something more than myself. In an 'us.'"

There was a beat of silence before the crowd erupted in applause, a few people wiping at their eyes. Pedri smiled faintly, but the words hit him harder than he'd expected. His gaze drifted toward Lucía, radiant in her off-white dress, her fingers laced tightly with Javier's, her smile glowing even through tears. They looked like they belonged — like they had found something most people only ever pretended to.

He took a sip of his drink and leaned back, letting the low hum of conversation and clinking silverware surround him without truly registering any of it. All around him, people leaned into one another — couples whispering in each other's ears, hands resting easily on arms, thighs brushing under the table like second nature. It was effortless for them. Like breathing.

But for Pedri, it always felt like a performance. Like trying to learn a script everyone else had memorized years ago. He was good at the public part — the smiles, the charm, the gestures that made people feel like they knew him. But the deeper part? The part where you let someone stay, let them see? That always slipped through his fingers.

His phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, but he didn't bother to check it. Whoever it was, whatever it said, it wouldn't change anything. Not the strange ache pressing at his ribs, not the way the night felt like watching something through a screen.

He glanced back toward the newlyweds. Javier had leaned in to whisper something in Lucía's ear, her hand resting over his chest, and she laughed — not just a polite chuckle, but a real, full laugh that lit up her whole face.

And just like that, Pedri felt it again — the longing. That quiet, aching pull toward something he didn't even know how to name. Not love, exactly. Not just that. But the feeling of being seen. Held. Chosen, even when you weren't shining.

He remembered when Javier first told him about Lucía — a girl with a laugh that made him nervous and a mind that made him want to be better. Pedri had nodded, happy for his friend. But somewhere deep down, he'd wondered if he'd ever get that lucky. If someone would ever look at him and see more than a footballer, more than the safe version of himself he offered to the world.

Maybe that was the difference — maybe Javier let himself be loved. Really loved. Pedri wasn't sure if he knew how.

The music swelled again — a soft bolero that drew couples back onto the dance floor. Javier extended a hand, and Lucía stepped into his arms without hesitation, her head resting against his shoulder as they began to sway. There were no grand declarations now. Just closeness. Familiarity. A rhythm found in silence.

And Pedri, still hovering at the edge of the room, watched with that familiar quiet yearning — as if he were watching his comfort series, one where he was never written into the script. Everything unfolded around him: the laughter, the easy touches, the closeness that didn't need explanation. He wasn't bitter, just… distant, like the warmth belonged to another world entirely. And he couldn't help but wonder, not for the first time, if there would ever be a space like that meant for him. He couldn't help but wonder if someday, he would find a love that was really something, not just the idea of something.

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ I wanna know what it's like on the inside of love. I'm standing at the gates, I see the beauty above. I wanna know what it's like on the inside of love. Of course  I'll be alright, I just had a bad night. *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

He should've felt good. It was a night for something meaningful — for giving back. People were laughing, connecting, raising money for kids who needed it. And still, he felt like he was watching it all through glass. Present, but not fully part of it.

Pedri stood off to the side of the event hall, the soft hum of music and conversation swirling around him. The warm light from the chandeliers cast a glow over tables dressed in linen and gold, glasses clinking gently, smiles thrown across candlelit conversations. It looked like joy — like purpose. But inside, he felt weightless in the worst way. Like he could drift through it all and no one would notice.

He swirled the water in his glass, eyes unfocused, jaw set in something close to thoughtfulness but tinged with fatigue. It had been a long week — the pressure of the games, the expectations, the constant need to perform. He didn't know what he was waiting for. Maybe for something to reach him. Maybe for someone to ask him something that wasn't about football.

And then, there she was.

He noticed her before he fully understood why. She moved through the crowd like she wasn't trying to impress anyone — focused, composed, clipboard tucked under her arm. There was a quiet authority about her, like she knew exactly where she was supposed to be and was doing it without fanfare. She had that air about her — like she was useful, reliable, part of something. Not one of the glittery guests or wealthy donors, but one of the people who made the night actually work. Her smile came and went quickly, reserved for little moments — when someone found their name on the seating chart, when she passed a colleague and shared a quiet word. It wasn't the kind of smile that demanded attention. It was the kind that seemed to say, I see you, and I'm here.

She was calm. Grounded. Real.

He watched her adjust a centerpiece on a nearby table, check something off on her list, then pause and glance his way — catching him, eyes lingering for half a second too long. He dropped his gaze, embarrassed to be caught staring. 

But before he could fully retreat into himself, he heard her voice, "Are you having a bad night, or just really into that water?" He turned, startled. She was right there, standing a few feet away, looking at him like she hadn't just walked straight into the middle of his fog. He blinked. "Sorry?"

"You've been staring at that glass for five minutes," she said, smiling slightly. "Either it has secrets… or you just needed a reset." He huffed a quiet laugh. "Maybe both."

There was a pause. Not awkward — just open. She didn't rush to fill it.

"Too much going on?" she asked, tilting her head a little. "I get it. It gets overwhelming. Everyone trying to be charming at the same time." "Something like that," he said, shifting his weight. "I think I'm just… not really here tonight. Like my body is here but the rest of me is not." "Yeah, I got that vibe," she replied, her tone kind, not teasing. 

He studied her face — open, curious, but not pushy. There was no expectation in her gaze. No recognition, either. Or if there was, she didn't let on.

"I guess I've been stuck in my head," he admitted, glancing back toward the crowd. Her expression softened. "That's not a great place to be." "No," he said quietly. "It's not."

She moved a bit closer, almost instinctively, like the space between them felt too much. There was a quiet comfort in her presence — a gentleness that didn't demand anything from him.

He looked at her again. "You volunteering tonight?" "Yeah," she nodded proudly. "Helping with the auction, the seating chart, making sure people don't steal the centerpieces." She smiled again, "And apparently," she paused for a second, "checking in on footballers who forget how to socialize."

That made him laugh — unexpectedly, freely. He didn't realize how much he'd needed that sound until it left his mouth.

"You're good at this," he said, still smiling. "At what?" "At checking in on footballers who forget how to socialize. And, at making people feel more... here, less… invisible."

She paused, like the compliment caught her off guard. Then she glanced down at the clipboard in her hand, a faint blush touching her cheeks. When she looked back up, her eyes were warm. "Well, you're not invisible," she said softly.

She didn't say more. Didn't need to. Just stood beside him in the quiet of their corner, letting the noise of the event drift by. He felt something shift inside him, like he was waking up from a twenty-year-long fog. Occasionally, he found himself glancing sideways at her, drawn to the calm in her presence. There was something about her that made it… easier to breathe — like the weight of everything that had been pressing on him for so long had lightened just by her being there. She wasn't waiting for him to entertain her, or to explain himself. Her stillness felt like a quiet invitation to just exist. It was strange, how just standing beside someone, without words, could clear his mind. Like the noise in his thoughts had quieted, if only for a moment. And for a brief second, everything felt simpler, lighter.

When someone called for her from across the room, she turned slightly, scanning the crowd. Then, she looked back at him.

"Hey," she said, her smile returning, smaller now, but no less genuine. "I'm Y/N, by the way." A beat passed before he smiled in return, something softer resting behind his eyes. "Pedri." She nodded, like it confirmed something she already suspected, but didn't change anything.

Then, before turning to go, she asked, "Are you going to be okay?"

The question caught him off guard — not because it was dramatic, but because of how plain it was. How unpolished. No one ever really asked him that, not like that. Not without a reason or a follow-up or a suggestion about what he should do to be better. He looked at her — really looked. There was no agenda in her expression. Just a quiet kind of care. iIn the noise and the lights and the everything of it all, that landed heavier than anything else.

He exhaled, slow. "Yeah," he said finally, almost surprised at how true it felt. "Just had a bad night."

She gave him one last look, her eyes kind, then turned and walked away, disappearing into the movement of the room.

He stayed there, frozen, for a moment, the sounds of the event washing over him. But the heaviness he'd been carrying all night felt… different now. Lighter, somehow. Like something had been acknowledged, something unspoken.

For the rest of the night, his attention kept drifting back to her. Every so often, their eyes would meet across the room — brief, flickering glances that felt like questions neither of them dared to ask. It wasn't the pull of attraction or the hunger for attention, but a quiet gravity, as if her presence alone was enough to settle the rest of the noise in his mind. He couldn't name it, but the feeling was there — soft, persistent.

He didn't feel the need to chase her. There was no pressure to make anything happen, no rush to create a perfect moment. No desperation, no script— just the quiet hum of something unfolding on its own. No rehearsed lines, no anxious pauses. He didn't need to name it or hold it tightly — just let it be, and that felt like enough.

Because somehow, someway, he knew— he'd see her again.

[rach067]

Head Over Heels

Jana Fernandez x fem!reader

Jana Fernandez my love, you have my heart.

You and Jana had been keeping your relationship under wraps for a while, from the team and from the public, with the only people aware being your two’s family- which was still fairly new.

Your relationship stemmed soon after you signed for Barcelona, with you moving from England and struggled with the spanish language, Lucy and Keira quickly took you under their wing.

At first you struggled to make new friendships with your teammates, being constantly wary of the fact they are the top players in the world, however this feeling wasn’t new to you.

Both Keira and Lucy knew that you struggled with imposter syndrome after you signed for England and had constant nervous episodes before a match after you were told you were to be in the starting 11.

However, each time your anxiety spiked, either one of them would always be there to comfort you, which was why you were having such a hard time not telling anyone about yours and Jana’s relationship.

In a way, you felt as if you had to be more open with Keira and Lucy due to everything they had done for you, being honest with them was the least you could do.

———————————————————————

Honestly to begin with, you had a bad first impression of Jana, with you previously playing for Arsenal, the only interaction you have had with Jana were the 2021 games against Barcelona, which left you having to listen to Beth’s rants about how the young defender was shoving her all throughout the game.

It was your fault you weren’t friends with Jana really, despite you attempting to make an effort to speak to some of the Barça girls who spoke English, you had completely avoided the brunette who constantly haunted your thoughts.

Everyone on the team knew that Jana and Bruna were their own duo, they tended to pair up all of the time in drills, sit together on the bus and at lunch, they had been best friends since their youth.

You were used to seeing Jana and Bruna constantly looking at you, giggling, and rapidly whispering in Spanish, which didn’t help to ease your worries of not fitting in.

Until one training session where Bruna was ill left Jana without a partner for a drill. You usually partnered with Keira, but after some encouragement from the English girl that she would be fine and partner with Aitana, you walked over to the brunette defender and asked if she wanted to partner with you, to which she happily accepted to your surprise.

The brunette seemed eager to get to know you during the drill, and after training she offered to take you home instead of Lucy and Keira as your car was currently being fixed.

It turned out that you two didn’t live far away from each other, so you both car-shared after that training session, until one day you were confident enough to invite the brunette in after she dropped you off.

You both laughed over coffee, which led to you admitting how you thought she hated you at first, as you always saw her laughing at you with Bruna.

Jana simply looked at you in shock, and was quick to reassure you that she never hated you, but she was just very nervous around you.

At hearing this you offered her a soft smile, encouraging her to continue, when you noticed her hesitance to continue.

Jana was then quick to confess her newfound non-platonic feelings for you, until you cut off her rambling with a chaste kiss to her lips, effectively silencing her.

“I like you too Jana”

After a few more dates, Jana asked you to be her girlfriend which you happily accepted, you had been dating for 4 months now, with nobody suspecting anything of you two.

———————————————————————

Barcelona vs Real Madrid

A highly anticipated match, that always left people on the edge of their seats at Camp Nou.

Sadly, both you and your girlfriend weren’t playing, with you two both sporting matching muscle injuries, however you were both just as happy to watch.

You and Jana both loved physical affection, so it was a shame your relationship wasn’t public to anyone yet. You had both decided to wear many layers of clothing in attempt to prevent anyone from recognising you, so that Jana could at least have a hand on your thigh without a fan snapping a picture of it.

You had both decided that you would look more weird in your disguises in the friends and family stands than the public stands, which left you two in a random part of the stadium, surrounded by fellow culers.

Both you and Jana were clad in big puffer coats, beanies, face masks all in attempt to not be caught by fans.

Honestly, you did start sat down in your chair, however as the match progressed, you began to miss Jana’s lap, so you were quick to climb onto her, as she welcomed you in an embrace.

The Barcelona weather was honestly quite hot that day, so you were fast to discard your extra layers.

Everyone was focused on the match, so who would actually notice you?

With Jana’s extra layers, they made it impossible for you to nuzzle your face into the crook of Jana’s neck, so you made the rash decision to pull off Jana’s disguise, insisting it was too uncomfortable, to which Jana happily let you, the girl being as head-over-heels for you as you were for her.

You were right, no fans noticed either of you, Jana’s hand resting dangerously low on your back the entirety of the game, and she placed regular kisses on your forehead every time you tiredly mumbled “te amo” repeatedly.

With you too tired to look up, and Jana too enamoured with you, both of you failed to notice the camera which projected both of you clearly onto the big screen.

———————————————————————

As soon as the match ended, both you and Jana were quick to part ways, keeping up the facade of you two not being close.

Jana immediately went to her friends, and you went up to Esmee, who to Jana’s annoyance, you had grown quite close to over the past month. This was something you constantly teased your girlfriend for, and even though Jana knew you were loyal, she couldn’t help the sudden rush of jealousy she felt whenever she saw Esmee hugging you.

However, today Bruna noticed Jana’s glare at Esmee who had lifted you to a piggyback, as she interacted with the fans. The forward chose to not pick at Jana’s sudden dislike for Esmee, but it stayed at the back of her mind even when they were on the bus.

Your teammates noticed your fatigue, and chose to leave you alone when on the bus, as they knew both you and Esmee were such good friends due to your shared trait of always being tired. Both you and Esmee were currently sharing AirPods and appreciating the unusually calm conversations going on around you.

Until it was broken by a shriek from Claudia which immediately had you jolting awake, only to turn back to see what the problem was, to be met with a sympathetic smile from Jana, which had you subtly smiling back at her and then relaxing back into your seat instantly.

The back seats that day consisted of their usual group: Alexia, Jana, Bruna, Lucy, Mapi, Claudia and Patri, usually the loudest and most energetic of the team on the way back after a match.

After choosing to settle back into your seat, and once again blocking out the conversations around you, you were made completely oblivious to the incident arising at the back of the bus.

After Claudia’s sudden outburst caused everyone’s conversations to stop, she was immediately met with Alexia asking her what was wrong. Claudia however was still in so much shock, that when she attempted to tell Alexia and the others what was wrong, she could only stutter, until she was cut off with a scolding from Alexia for being so childish, who mistook the shriek of surprise for one of mischief.

When Alexia’s lecture had ended, Claudia managed to muster up a few words which immediately made Jana freeze:

“Twitter, Jana, Y/N”

Claudia quickly shoved her phone in the awaiting hands of her captain, who’s only reaction was a sharp intake of breath and a soft “ay dios mio” which the group knew was not a good sign.

The phone was then passed around the rest of the group, only landing in the hands of Jana last.

As the brunette studied the picture, she couldn’t help but smile at the candid photo of you two on the big screen, you on her lap with your head resting on her shoulder, however the photo also had captured Jana’s blush and the hand that rested way too low on you for any couple in public.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jana could see you jolting awake, after being shaken awake by Mapi, who she had not realised had got up to confront you.

Jana immediately went to stand up, her protective nature shining through, only to be pulled back down by Alexia.

“She will come over here, maybe she can sit on a normal seat, instead of your lap this time?” The captain teased.

This was only met with a scowl from Jana, the only available seat was next to Mapi, and Jana was not planning on leaving you anywhere near the Zaragozan, as she knew that the blonde would only tease you more.

As you neared them, Jana could see Mapi tugging on your wrist harshly in excitement, not noticing the wince on your face, the brunette reached over to smack Mapi’s hand, to let her know to get off you. Hesitance was evident all over your face on where to sit, so Jana hastily tugged you by your waist onto her lap.

This confirmation that you were in fact together sent Claudia into a rambling state mainly consisting of how she couldn’t believe it, and that she didn’t even know you and Jana were friends.

This combined with Patri, Mapi and Lucy’s teasing only irritated Jana more, and Alexia studying the picture of you two on the big screen did not ease your worries.

Jana noticed this, and tapped your thigh as a signal for you to stand, as she led you to the front of the bus for the last ten minutes of the journey. As soon as you arrived back, Jana pulled you to her car where you went to her house as you had been spending most of your time there recently.

After a long conversation with Jana, you had decided that although you two had already been hard launched by some random cameraman, you two could still go through the process of making your relationship ship official online.

———————————————————————

yourinstagram

Head-over-heels inlove with you from day one my love ❤️

Liked by alexiaputellas, janafernandez3 and 57,675 others.

Comments disabled.

janafernandez3

Mi amor in her natural habitat: on my lap ❤️ (no where else I would rather have you)

Liked by yourinstagram, lucybronze and 49,873 others.

Comments disabled.

———————————————————————

A/N: i <3 jana fernandez

[rach067]

“Gravity”

(Alexia Putellas x Reader — One-Shot | ~10,000 words | Best Friends to Lovers | Romantic & Angsty)

You always found her.

It didn’t matter where you were — the chaotic noise of the locker room, the open stretches of the training grounds, the packed noise of post-match dinners — your eyes always found her first.

Alexia Putellas.

Your gravity long before you realized it.

She was sitting on the bench now, legs stretched out, hair damp from training and clinging to her forehead, laughing that soft, breathless laugh that made the air around her seem lighter somehow.

You watched her from your spot by the lockers, casually pulling your hoodie over your head, pretending you weren’t looking.

You always pretended.

It was easier that way.

You were the one who everyone called charismatic — funny, confident, the one who could make even the grumpiest teammates crack a smile.

The one who held the room without ever trying too hard.

But around Alexia, all of that slipped sideways, softened into something rawer.

Something that felt a lot like home.

You ruffled your hair dry with a towel, tossing it lazily toward the laundry basket, grinning when it missed by a solid two feet.

“Elite athlete, huh?” Mapi heckled from across the room.

You winked, grabbing the towel again with a dramatic bow.

“All part of the charm.”

Alexia caught your eye from her seat, smirking, biting lightly at her lower lip like she was trying not to laugh.

It hit you low in your stomach, that look.

It always did.

You jogged over, dropping onto the bench beside her, body close but not touching.

You never touched her first.

It was a rule you didn’t remember making but always kept.

“So,” you said, nudging your knee lightly against hers, “you going to admit I outplayed you in drills today or should we just agree silently and move on?”

Alexia scoffed, pushing her hair back from her forehead with the heel of her hand.

“You tripped over a cone and took Aitana down with you.”

“Strategic chaos,” you said smoothly, flashing her a grin. “Unrivaled tactical brilliance.”

She shook her head, but her smile was warm, lingering longer than necessary.

“You’re an idiot,” she said fondly.

You tilted your head, watching her.

“But you love me anyway,” you said easily, teasing, playful.

Alexia’s smile faltered for half a second — just a flicker — and your heart stuttered.

She recovered quickly, nudging your shoulder with hers.

“Maybe,” she said, tossing her bag onto her lap and standing, tugging the zipper closed.

The word hung in the air long after she walked away.

Maybe.

Later, at team dinner, you slid naturally into the seat next to her — like a magnet pulled to its match.

The restaurant was buzzing, the air thick with the clink of glasses and the low murmur of voices.

Plates of tapas cluttered the tables, wine bottles half-emptied, laughter spilling out into the warm Barcelona night.

You leaned back lazily in your chair, stretching your legs out under the table, feeling the steady thrum of life all around you.

Alexia sat close, her knee brushing yours, her body warm and familiar.

She was telling a story — some ridiculous thing that had happened at a training camp years ago — and you watched her as she spoke, the way her hands moved animatedly, the crinkle at the corners of her eyes when she laughed.

You smiled without thinking.

“You’re staring,” Mapi whispered across the table, raising an eyebrow.

You didn’t even flinch.

“She’s worth looking at,” you said simply, picking at a piece of bread.

Mapi smirked, leaning back, exchanging a glance with Patri, who grinned behind her glass.

You ignored them.

You were good at ignoring things.

Especially the way your heart twisted every time Alexia looked at you and smiled like you hung the stars.

It happened slowly.

A glance across the restaurant.

A smile from a stranger.

A conversation that started innocently and lingered a little too long.

You caught someone’s eye — someone new, someone charming — and smiled back without thinking.

You didn’t notice Alexia stiffen beside you.

Didn’t notice the way her fingers tightened around her wine glass, the way her gaze dropped to her lap like she could escape the sudden, sharp ache in her chest.

The stranger came over eventually — confident, easy, slipping into your conversation like it was nothing.

You matched it effortlessly, your natural charm slipping into place like second skin.

You flirted — light, harmless — the way you always did.

And Alexia sat there, silent, the noise around her fading into a low hum she couldn’t quite breathe through.

You laughed at something the stranger said, head tipping back, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Alexia swallowed hard, looking away.

Maybe this was always inevitable.

Maybe she had been foolish to think gravity was enough to keep someone from floating away.

When the night wound down, and you turned to her — casual, easy, the way you always did — she smiled.

A little too sharp.

A little too bright.

“You good?” you asked softly.

“Yeah,” she said.

You believed her.

You always did.

Because the alternative — that something between you had cracked, shifted, slipped out of reach — was something neither of you were brave enough to face.

Not yet.

Across the city, hours later, you turned over in your bed, smiling at the new text lighting up your phone.

An invitation.

A possibility.

Meanwhile, Alexia lay awake, the ceiling a blur above her, the steady ache in her chest growing heavier with every breath.

You were still her gravity.

Still the one she orbited around, helpless, hopeless, always.

But maybe — just maybe — you had already found a new center of your universe.

And maybe this time, she would lose you for real.

The days blurred into each other after that night.

Training.

Matches.

Dinners.

Laughter.

Everything looked the same from the outside.

But underneath, something small and terrible had started to shift.

You texted more now — someone else lighting up your phone during warm-ups, during water breaks, during the slow, quiet moments when Alexia used to be the only one who filled your attention.

You were still you — still charming, still laughing, still slinging your arm around Alexia’s shoulders after drills and pulling her into mock headlocks after victories.

You still looked at her.

But you didn’t stay anymore.

Not the way you used to.

Alexia told herself it was nothing.

You were happy.

That’s what mattered.

She watched you tease teammates with that lazy, easy smile, watched you wave off post-training drinks to meet someone else, watched you pull on your jacket and tuck your phone into your pocket with a grin meant for someone she couldn’t reach.

It shouldn’t have hurt this much.

She wasn’t yours to lose.

But God, it felt like she was bleeding from a wound nobody else could see.

It got worse at team dinners.

The group crowded into booths and back rooms of their favorite restaurants, plates stacked with patatas bravas and croquetas, wine glasses clinking.

You sat close to her — you always did — but half your attention stayed on your phone, buzzing intermittently in your pocket.

Alexia didn’t say anything.

She didn’t have the right.

She just picked at her food, smiling when you caught her gaze, laughing when you bumped her knee under the table like old times.

She didn’t tell you that every buzz of your phone made her stomach twist.

She didn’t tell you that every second you weren’t looking at her made the air feel heavier.

One night, when the team decided to go out after a win — dancing, drinking, celebrating — you brought them.

Your new person.

They fit easily into the chaos — good-looking, funny, comfortable around the squad.

Everyone welcomed them.

Alexia hated them immediately.

It wasn’t rational.

It wasn’t fair.

But watching you dance with someone else, seeing you lean into another body with that familiar tilt of your head, that easy smile —

it broke something inside her she didn’t know was still whole.

You found her outside an hour later, standing near the curb, arms folded tightly across her chest.

The cool night air brushed against her skin, the music from the club pulsing behind her like a heartbeat she couldn’t bear to listen to anymore.

“You disappeared,” you said, stepping out into the streetlight’s glow.

She forced a smile.

“Just needed air.”

You shifted awkwardly, hands in your pockets, shoulders stiff.

There was a moment —

heavy, pulsing between you —

when you almost said something.

Almost.

Instead, you offered a lopsided grin.

“You good?”

Always the same question.

Always the same lie.

Alexia nodded.

“Yeah,” she said.

And like always, you believed her.

Because if you looked any closer,

if you saw the way she was breaking apart piece by piece —

you might never come back.

In the weeks that followed, Alexia perfected the art of pretending.

She cheered your goals louder than anyone.

She laughed at your jokes.

She ruffled your hair after matches and threw towels at your head during recovery days.

But late at night, when the stadium lights faded and the world went quiet, she sat alone in her car, gripping the steering wheel, heart aching with all the things she would never say.

You were slipping away.

And she was letting you.

Because she was too afraid that if she reached for you now —

if she asked you to choose —

you wouldn’t choose her.

One evening, after a long training session, you found her sitting alone on the pitch.

The sun was low, bleeding gold across the empty stands.

She looked so small, so still, sitting there with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring out over the grass.

You walked over, dropping down beside her without a word.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

The silence was different than it used to be —

heavier, fuller, crackling with all the things you were both too scared to say.

Finally, you nudged her shoulder lightly.

“Hey,” you said, voice soft.

“You still with me?”

She turned her head, meeting your eyes.

For the first time in weeks, her walls dropped — just for a moment — and you saw it.

The pain.

The longing.

The love.

Your breath caught.

But before you could speak, she smiled — tight and too bright — and bumped your shoulder back.

“Always,” she said.

The lie tasted like blood in her mouth.

You smiled too, masking your confusion, pushing down the strange ache building in your chest.

Neither of you said what you really meant.

Neither of you dared.

Because sometimes, the gravity between two people isn’t enough to stop them from drifting apart.

Not unless one of them is brave enough to fight for it.

It was subtle at first.

Little things.

You laughed at your partner’s jokes — but it didn’t warm you the way it used to with Alexia.

You went to dinners, dates, walked along the beach, held hands under restaurant tables — and still felt like something was missing.

Like a puzzle piece jammed into the wrong place.

You smiled, you nodded, you played the part.

But somewhere underneath, something restless kept gnawing at you.

Something hollow.

Something aching.

You didn’t know what it was.

Not yet.

You only knew that when you turned your head to make a comment during dinner — when you instinctively reached for a hand, a glance, a smirk shared across a table — it was never the right person sitting there.

It was never her.

Alexia grew quieter, too.

She was still there — at training, at matches, sitting with the squad at lunches — but there was a distance now.

A space she never used to let exist between you.

You’d catch her watching you sometimes — across the gym, across the locker room — her gaze soft and devastating.

But when you caught her, she looked away too quickly, busying herself with her boots, her bag, her phone.

You missed her without even realizing you were missing her.

You missed the way she used to poke your ribs during stretching drills.

The way she’d grab your wrist absentmindedly during conversations, like anchoring herself to you without noticing.

You missed her late-night texts — stupid memes, blurry photos of her dog, voice notes where she half-laughed, half-yawned her way through inside jokes only you understood.

You missed her like a heartbeat.

And you didn’t even know why.

The final straw snapped on a rainy Thursday.

Training was brutal — cold, wet, miserable — and by the end, you were soaked through and ready to disappear into your bed for a week.

Alexia barely looked at you the whole session.

It shouldn’t have hurt.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

But when you cracked a joke — your usual defense, your usual shield — and she only offered a tight smile before jogging off without waiting for you…

It shattered something inside you.

You stood there, dripping rain onto the turf, watching her back retreating across the pitch.

And for the first time since you could remember, you felt lost.

Utterly, heartbreakingly lost.

You broke up with your partner two days later.

It wasn’t a dramatic fight.

No screaming, no slammed doors.

Just a soft, sad conversation in a coffee shop.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t get angry.

You just sat there, listening to their kind words —

“You’re distracted.”

“You’re not really here.”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

And all you could think was:

It was never going to be anyone else.

You found her after the next match.

The team won — another clean sheet, another reason to celebrate — but you barely registered the cheers, the music, the endless flashing cameras.

You only saw her.

Standing by the tunnel, hair pulled into a messy bun, jersey clinging to her, exhaustion and triumph written across her face.

You walked straight to her, heart hammering so hard you could barely breathe.

“Lex,” you said, voice raw, broken open.

She turned, startled.

Her eyes widened — and then softened, like the sight of you cracked something open inside her too.

You didn’t think.

You couldn’t.

You just grabbed her hand, pulling her around the corner into the shadowed hallway beyond the noise.

She stumbled after you easily, instinctively — like she’d always follow you, even if it broke her.

“Lex,” you said again, and your voice cracked completely.

She looked up at you, chest heaving slightly from the run, her hand still in yours.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, so softly it nearly broke you.

You swallowed hard, searching her face.

Everything you had been trying not to feel, not to see, rushed in at once —

the nights you couldn’t sleep because she wasn’t there,

the smiles that didn’t reach your heart,

the way nothing felt right unless it was her beside you.

“I broke up with them,” you said, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

Her lips parted slightly, her brows pulling together.

“Why?”

You laughed — a broken, choked sound — and shook your head.

“Because it wasn’t them, Lex. It was never them.”

She stared at you, unmoving, like she was afraid even breathing would shatter whatever fragile thing was building between you.

You stepped closer, your forehead nearly touching hers.

“You’re my gravity,” you whispered.

“I keep trying to go somewhere else, to find something else, but I always end up right back here. Right back with you.”

Alexia exhaled sharply — a half-sob, half-laugh — and closed her eyes.

You felt her forehead bump lightly against yours.

“You were always mine,” she whispered back.

You pulled back just enough to see her face — eyes wet, lips trembling.

And then you kissed her.

Finally.

Desperately.

Soft and rough and shaking with everything you had been too afraid to say.

She kissed you back like she had been waiting for you to find her all along.

When you broke apart, both of you gasping slightly, she pressed her forehead against yours again, hands sliding up to cradle your jaw like you were something precious.

“I love you,” she said, fierce and certain.

“I love you,” you breathed back.

And in that moment, for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt whole again.

Outside, the rain started to fall again, soft and steady.

But in Alexia’s arms,

in the pull of her touch,

in the quiet, overwhelming certainty of her love —

You were home.

Right where you were always meant to be.

[rach067]

⋆*·ﾟI read it in your eyes... misa x putellas!femreader

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

a night out appears to be the turning point in the journey of dealing with your heartbreak and, once again, misa is there to witness what she probably shouldn't have.

or; part of the as the flowers bloom, my heart does too universe

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

The van stopped on the curb of a small street, trees lining up every few metres and a tram whizzing past across the street. Alexia jumped out, walked up to the creme-coloured brick apartment building and dug a key out of her pocket before disappearing behind the doors. Alba pressed her face against the window of the van, eyes looking up as she sighed in exasperation,

"Bathroom light is still on. Prepare to wait for another decade before she's done." She tried to joke, but her face was set in a grimace. Misa wondered if it had anything to do with Alexia having had the same reaction when asked about her little sister earlier that week.

"Are you sure her girlfriend isn't keeping her hostage and forbidding her to leave?"

"God, yeah, remember when she whisked her away the second we touched down from Ibiza that one time? Those two are super-glued together."

A set of giggles rang through the car, but a few women, who clearly had more intel, fell silent.

Alba's lips immediately set into a thin line, "They've broken up, and this is the only time I'll warn you guys to never bring that woman up again. She's a pariah, a fucking deadly disease. For all I know, she doesn't exist. Or at least I can pretend she doesn't." Alba muttered the last part, crossing her arms and sinking into her seat with her eyebrows furrowed and a far-away look on her face. It still hurt her that she hadn't stepped in sooner, how she could've saved most of the heartbreak if she hadn't trusted you when you told her you were just going through a rough patch, and that was all. Her need to protect you had been there ever since newborn-you had been carefully put into her and Alexia's lap, and she'd played with your tiny fingers and watched you coo. Though she had been young herself, she had managed to comprehend the unspoken responsibility that came with being an older sister. Yet, she'd still failed by dismissing her worries when she thought you were mature enough and that you deserved her trust and respect. You'd told her not to worry, that you could handle it, and she'd given you the trust and support to back that claim. If only Alba had known what had really been going on behind closed doors, things might have been different now.

The van was awfully silent after Alba's comment for all of the five minutes it took for Alexia to reappear with you strolling behind her, face cast down to the ground where your heels clacked against the cobblestoned pavement. The short maroon summer dress that clung to your upper thighs made you look absolutely gorgeous, even if it made Misa feel oddly underdressed with her jeans and top. But even if you'd decided to wear joggers and a sweater, she knew you would've still outshone everyone in that van. In her eyes, anyway.

She caught the quickest glance of your face, despite you making it your job to barely lift your head to acknowledge the others in a silent greeting, but she had managed to catch the sullen look nonetheless.

The intense scent of freshly applied perfume wafted through the van, and Misa, ashamedly so, realised it wasn't the same one you'd used during your last vacation. That one had been soft and light, with a tinge of something citrusy, something fresh. Perhaps, it was your designated summer scent, and going to a club required something a little heavier to stick through the night. Your powdery floral musk enveloped her senses, and she had no other option but to bask in it as the van revved and left your street.

Alexia had gently ushered you to sit between her and Olga, your sister's girlfriend immediately pulling you into her side. Misa watched from the back row as you let her, like some brittle puppet who otherwise couldn't sit up without crumbling. Alexia and Olga shared a look over your head, like a silent exchange of their worries, allegiance and support for you. But Misa realised it was a silent promise when they dipped their heads in confirmation.

The van never erupted into loud laughter again, not after Alba's breaking news, but the occasional whispered small talks softly picked up again.

A ringtone cut through the hushed silence, Hey Ya! by Outkast blaring through the van. Feeling the vibration in your lap, you opened your clutch and dug out your phone, surprised to see the caller ID on there.

Though Alexia had deleted everything that reminded you of your ex-girlfriend from life, she hadn't breached your privacy and taken your phone to get rid of the countless photos and text messages she knew were still on there. She thought you would've been wise enough to do so yourself, seeing what your ex had done to you.

Still, it surprised her when she curiously glanced at your screen. Her brows shot up to her hairline, and she immediately made a move to snatch the device out of your hands, not even to restrict you from answering, per se, but to give the woman who had ruined you another piece of her mind.

"No- Alexia!" You rushed out, holding the phone out of her reach, knowing full well what she would do if she got your phone, "Please, don't make it worse."

Her face was pure disgust and malice, "Why's she calling?"

"Well, I wouldn't know without answering, would I?"

She gave you a pointed look at your attitude. That side of you hadn't come out since your teenage years, and though she missed when you'd still been young and innocent since those days had been fleeting, she didn't want them to return to her like this.

"You're not thinking of answering her, are you?" She shot back harshly, missing the way Olga softly shook her head to not give in and fuel her little sister's fire.

You gasped when the phone was plucked out of your grip from behind, long nails scratching your hand through the movement. Instantly, you turned around to stare at Alba's blank face. The chipper tune of the song still cut through the charged silence before your sister turned off your phone and pushed it beneath the strap of her bra, enveloping the van in silence again. Well, only momentarily.

You gaped at her, bewildered.

"Give me my phone back."

Alba gave her chest a little tap, a gesture to secure the phone, but by doing so, putting salt in the open wound, "Not until I trust you are strong enough to not let it get to you again."

"Who are you to make that decision?" You snapped, all sense and resolve gone. You had let your ex dictate your entire life, play and push you around like some puppet on a string. You weren't going to let anyone else tell you what to do or say. Not anymore.

"I'm your sister and I'm looking out for you, something I should've done months ago. Now, turn around and stop sulking. You look like an angry child throwing a fit because she has missed her nap. Venga-" Alba spoke with an air of finality, waving you off and not crumbling under the deathly glare you directed her way.

Humiliation was the feeling that washed over you when your eyes finally went around the van. No one met your eyes. They probably tried their hardest to disappear or pretend they weren't breaching what obviously should've been a very private conversation.

Misa quickly looked at the world behind the window when she noticed your eyes roaming across the back row to find hers. But you never succeeded.

Two arms slung around your waist from both sides of you, but you pushed them off, irked and irritated by the comfort Olga and Alexia were trying to give you. You'd never been good at switching your emotions on and off when things got heated like this. You were still mad. They needed to let you sit with your anger until it would fade out naturally and you could accept their well-meant comfort again.

'She's right, you know. We only want what's best for you,', Alexia wanted to say that and so much more when she watched your jaw tense and your bottom lip wobble, but knew not to bother you in your state of distress. Pushing you to let others help you with your emotions or having you communicate what you were feeling before you could calm down usually only made things worse. Your family had learned that the hard way. It had been a thing ever since you were little, and it had usually brought out temper outbursts whenever they'd gone against it. Whereas those would've been able to be dealt with with your favourite stuffed animal and snack, or by the mere sight of your father's fond smile, your sisters weren't quite sure how to comfort you this time around. Not when they'd thought that your girlfriend had taken the place of being your rock, the one to calm you down. If only they'd known she'd been the one to make you feel as little as she could, things would've been different.

You let the tears trickle down your cheeks, refusing to wipe them away and show everyone sitting in the rows behind you that you were crying. So what if it ruined your makeup? It wasn't like anyone in the club would see, or care, for that matter. They'd only care for your lips, and they were still coated in a freshly applied layer of gloss, puckered and ready to be kissed.

It was as if Alexia knew of your plans the second you all stepped out and walked down the stairs to the underground club. And, well, perhaps she did know after having watched a woman walk out of your apartment when she was going up to check on you. She'd caught on twice, although you figured the second time had been because Alexia'd had a hunch and her worried self had cared more for your wellbeing and her unanswered texts than the possibility of her getting scarred by what she could walk into. But when she realised the second woman was a different one than the first, she'd gotten mad and lectured you about all the things you didn't want to talk about. Who was she to tell you how to live your life? You were young, single and sexually frustrated and wanted to take advantage of that. You wanted to be worshipped and cared for, no matter how fleeting, and didn't care that there weren't real feelings of love involved. At least, that was what you tried to convince yourself.

When she'd seen you practically glued to some woman's lips and leave with her the last time you'd gone to this exact club, Alexia knew the only person you needed to be glued to that night, was her. It was already a miracle that she'd let you tag along, but, after careful consideration, she realised it was better to keep you where she could see you than to leave you in your apartment, inviting god knows who to keep you company. You knew she’d told Alba all about it, but were eternally grateful she hadn’t let your mother in on your recent activities, knowing full well the woman would barricade you in your childhood room and smother you with her motherly love until you were feeling okay again and not finding comfort with strangers.

The music was thunderous against the walls, and the purple hue was a recurring colour in the club. Alexia's hand found yours and she squeezed onto it for dear life when you pushed through the many bodies and toward your reserved booth. She purposefully trapped you among her friends, even pushing you to sit down when you'd tried to excuse yourself with some lame lie about needing to go to the bathroom already.

Alba scooted beside you, draping her legs playfully over your lap, but you knew it was a ploy to further trap you in your seat. You heard her snicker when you refused to look at her because you were clearly still mad at her. What annoyed you even further, was that you knew Alba couldn't care less. She'd done what she had set out to do, and that proud smile on her face said it all. She had always been insufferable when she got like that.

When you'd been younger, your mood swings had usually been diffused by your father, but after he had passed and you'd been in your pre-teens, Eli'd had her hands full trying to rope you in and get you and Alba out of each other's hair. Your temperaments had always been a little too similar to coerce peacefully. It had been a real challenge to keep your emotions in check, especially right after it had happened when you'd felt like a life raft floating on the open ocean. The feeling of loss had been just as difficult to navigate as the feeling of helplessness you'd felt. There wasn't anything you could have done for your father, besides comfort him the way he had comforted you for years. And there was nothing that could comfort you now that he was gone. Therapy had only helped to an extent, if you even let your therapists get close to solving you.

Alexia had already been spending all of her time on the pitch, so she'd, fortunately, missed most of those teenage fights. It was the only thing she never regretted missing out on. But without your father and with your mother out working to take care of her three young girls, you were left to listen to your older sisters, despite your clear loathing of it. And when Alexia was out as well, that meant you'd had to listen to Alba. And my, had she revelled with that power. It never helped that she often used that power to end discussions, even when she was clearly in the wrong. But if you didn't listen, you knew she would blab to your mother about something she wasn't supposed to know. Looking back at it now, you realised how your bond had grown. She was your big sister, had taken care of you when she'd been young and hurting herself and was effortlessly slipping into that role again right now. But, even if you knew she did it out of love, you couldn't help but grow a little irritated.

You pushed her legs off your lap, then rolled your eyes as she playfully groaned when she realised you weren't going to break.

"You're not going to ruin my night with that mood of yours, are you?"

You huffed and looked out over the dance floor. Your night was already ruined, that much was clear. You hadn't really been that opposed to tagging along and spending some time with your sisters and Alexia's friends, though you knew Alexia's laser eyes would make it damn near impossible for you to leave with someone. But now that you were here and couldn't even indulge, you were already counting down the time.

"Wipe that look off your face, it's not attractive."

"My resting bitch face has never given me any trouble here before."

Alba grumbled out an ew at the clear insinuation, and you counted that as a slight victory for your cause.

"Here-"

You watched the drink Alexia set in front of you, immediately making a face when you realised it was a simple Sprite. Even Alba gave her sister a questioning look.

Alexia, as if she'd already been expecting such a reaction from the two of you, gave in and handed you her alcoholic drink instead.

"Have mine then."

You eyed the rose-coloured drink, "What is it?"

"Pink gin with a red fruit tonic."

Alba scrunched her nose in disgust, "That's just an alcoholic lemonade."

"I swear, you have the taste buds of a child."

Alexia's mouth broke into a grin when you spoke, "Says the girl who drinks more Capri Sun than what's good for her."

Alba grabbed the pink gin and tonic and gave it a sip, face not contorting in nausea, as you'd half expected. She slapped her lips together, "Not terrible. Still not my thing."

With your sister distracted, you eyed the outline of your phone beneath her dress, but Alba already held up a finger to silence whatever plea was going to come out of your mouth.

"Don't even entertain the thought."

You threw your head back against the seat, "I want to go home. Can you call me a taxi?"

"And have her wait on your doorstep after you haven't answered her calls just now? Absolutely not." Alexia said, nicking her drink from Alba again, knowing neither of her sisters would drink it anyway.

"Then give me your phone, I'm bored."

Alexia sighed but obliged, watching as you opened her Candy Crush app, knowing you would likely close it again with a huff after seeing her unreasonably high level and knowing you weren't feeling that kind of mental stimuli right now.

And, just like she'd expected, you locked her phone with an exasperated groan.

"Want mine and find me some hot dates on Tinder?" Alba wiggled her brows, eyes brightening when she saw the intrigue on your face. Although maybe it had caught your interest for a more mischievous reason, she realised quickly.

"No-" She pulled her phone back before it could fall into your hand, "-be serious about it. No silly messages that'll make me look like a fool."

"Okay. Promise."

"And you know my type."

"Eiza González in Dusk Till Dawn?"

Alba slapped your head, "No, that's your type. Don't push your gay-awakening onto me." She grinned at the hurt look on your face, "And we surely aren't forgetting that your first girlfriend was a carbon copy of her, right?"

"Remind me why we ever broke up?" You complained, realising she was right.

Alba cackled, "Go reach out to her, I know there are still some feelings there. Second chances are a thing, you know?" She side-eyed you, realising her mistake of bringing up dating around you the second she saw the look on your face. She changed the subject to what she hoped would make you chat away enthusiastically, "Tell me again why you liked that character?"

"Oh, come on. Her in leather? On the motorcycle? With her fangs out? When her eyes change colour? Ordering men around? And that one scene where she danced with the snake?!"

"Clearly you're still infatuated," She poked at your ribs, but felt incredibly relieved to see the sudden moment of carefreeness appear on your face, "Honestly, I only watched it because you made me watch it with you, and it kept you quiet and distracted."

Now it was your hand that slapped her head.

She laughed, "Plus, it was fun watching you watch the show. I figured out you were a lady kisser way before you even knew it yourself."

You shrugged, "Well, Kisa was my Edward Cullen."

"Who?!"

"Kisa!? Santanico! The vampire queen?! Eiza's character," You rolled your eyes.

"Oh wow, forgive me for forgetting a character from a show we watched ten years ago- jesus."

Misa took a sip of her drink and watched while slowly but surely, the annoyance that had previously been etched into your face disappeared the longer you chatted with your sister. It seemed you started to warm up to her again— occasionally showing Alba her phone, which got paired with eyebrow wiggles and giggles. Misa hadn't realised how much she'd missed your laughter when it broke through the cacophony of the club chaos.

Upon hearing your laugh, Alba immediately snatched the phone from your hands, afraid you'd done exactly what you'd promised her not to. But when she saw the source of your amusement, her worry settled.

"Ten euros that she superliked you just for laughs," You almost instantly tapped the blue star on the profile of your childhood best friend, Abril, and cheered when the screen displayed a pop-up.

"Pay up!"

"No, I never agreed to anything," Alba playfully pulled at a loose strand of your hair, slightly yanking your head to the side. You didn't react to it, having been used to all the bullying as the youngest child.

You rolled your eyes, quickly typing a 'hey sexy lady' to Abril before your sister snatched the phone away and added a middlefinger emoji to the chat.

You perked up when Alba's phone vibrated, then typed away as Abril replied with a playful retort.

"Aw, shucks, she knows it is me."

"Duh, she knows I wouldn't ever superlike her," Alba sniggered.

Alba locked her phone and put it away, calling it quits for you on the Tinder matchmaking for the night. You sat back in your seat, eyes going over the many people in the club who seemed to be having way more fun than you.

To your right, Alexia's teammates scooted out of the booth. Your face lit up when Jenni turned to you, her hand outstretched and fingers wiggling as an invite.

Alexia and Alba shared a look, then nodded at each other, before turning to you.

"Go, have some fun," Alexia nodded, a soft smile on her face to tell you it was all right.

Alba's hand fell on your lower back and smoothed out your dress as you stood up and shimmied out of the booth. She gave your butt a slap, "But disappear on us and I'll tell mama you lost your virginity under her roof."

You turned around, cheeks flushed and a scowl on your face, "How- You guys weren't even home?!"

Alba shrugged, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, "Should've been more slick about it then."

"Don't-" Alexia pinched the bridge of her nose, "Don't use that word in that context, por favor."

"Well, you don't even know if it happened or not."

"Pretty sure you just confirmed it?"

You muttered profanities under your breath, "If you tell her, I'll tell her you dented her car when you tried to parallel park and not someone who drove into you at the grocery store."

"I wouldn't expect anything less. Just behave, laelia." She puckered her lips and made kissing noises, laughing at the look on your face, clearly still trying to decipher how in the world she knew of what you thought had been your secret.

You shook it off and took the olive branch Jenni presented you with both hands and almost fled the scene with her and the others, mind set on getting yourself a proper drink first before any other plans could be made.

You waved the bartender over and leaned against the bar as you watched her mix your chosen poison when you felt a presence beside you. That was fast, you thought, but was surprised to see one of your sister's national teammates land on the vacant stool next to you.

"Hey," Misa nodded her head, then ordered a drink, eyes roaming across the many bottles on display and not meeting those of your own as you stared at her. Misa had been a mystery to you since the start. She hadn't been rude to you per se, just... closed off. And with you especially. It was something you'd sometimes encountered before, but those times, you could clearly see the interest and adoration in people's faces, a little too intimidated by your energy and beauty to approach. It felt different with Misa. As if she didn't even want to indulge in a glance your way. Had you done something off-putting in her presence that you weren't aware of? The distance she clearly maintained between the two of you, even after many a dinner sat next to one another, was odd. Still, you didn't want to give up on getting her out of her shell around you. You'd succeed. One day.

"Having fun?" You had to lean in to her to be heard over the music. Misa's smile was friendly, but as friendly as a stranger reciprocating a smile from across the street. Nothing too welcoming, nothing that notified she was one of your sister's closest friends and that you had actually shared two weeks basking in the sun together.

"Now I am," She motioned at the beer bottle that was set in front of her, "-you?"

The bartender slid your drink over to you, topping it off with a straw and a pearly white smile, "Now I am." You smiled devilishly and reused her words, eyeing the woman who had made your drink a little longer than necessary when you slid over a ten euro bill.

"Salud!"

Misa clinked her bottle with your glass before you both took a sip. You turned around, back against the bar and fingers toying with the black straw as your eyes flitted across the dance floor.

Misa watched you, heart hammering against her chest faster than the music around her. She knew she was supposed to say something, knew that you were expecting her to. But how was she to think straight when you were right there, close enough to touch if she turned around in her stool, your perfume intoxicating her in all the right ways? Her eyes raked your body, watching how the fabric of your dress tugged around the curves of your breasts, hips and bottom, how your bare legs got her as hypnotised as those soft locks of yours she wanted to reach out and touch. She watched your fingers readjust the necklace on your chest, how they left droplets on your skin from the condensation of your drink. She couldn't help but stare as it trickled down your cleavage.

She froze when you suddenly turned around, head tilting as you watched her intently. She'd been caught staring at your breasts, and her face turned ten shades darker.

Your mouth moved but she couldn't comprehend the words in her state of panicked embarrassment. She could only watch the healthy blush that had appeared on your face since stepping into the stuffy club, how you looked at her from underneath your eyelashes as if you could see right through her. And, perhaps you could. Especially after she had just ogled your plunging neckline. The fear that thought came with shook Misa out of her stupor.

"Come again?" She leaned in, trying to blame the booming sound around you, head moving to the side so as to not come any closer to your breasts and betray her feelings even more.

"Wanna dance?"

Misa was thankful for the distorted purple lighting around her, for she was sure you would've caught her blushing right away.

"Um, I don't really dance. But thanks."

She did dance. Hell, she liked to dance. She'd wanted to get silly and let loose all the stress and pressure of the hard week. But dancing with you would only add to her nerves and stress and it would do nothing to help her crush on you, which was multiplying every second she spent near you. Even after weeks or months of not seeing you, just the slightest tease of a glance at you or mention of your existence could reawaken her feelings.

Misa saw your face fall momentarily, but you seemed to shake it off.

"Can you watch my drink while I'm gone? If you want to go back to the booth, it's okay, but if you do, just bring my drink along because I did not spend nine euros for five sips, only for it to go to waste." You laughed heartedly, and Misa swore she could fly. She'd always basked in your sweet and light energy, but whenever it was directed to her, even for a split second, Misa found herself on another planet entirely. A very pink one with butterflies flitting all over.

"Sure," She grinned, albeit with a kind of timidness that was new to her.

"And don't you dare take a sip, because I'll know if you do." You pointed a finger at her, eyes narrowed but lips curved into a ludic smile. Her eyes fell on your lips, then quickly glanced at your eyes, realising she shouldn't get caught staring at your breasts and lips all within the same minute.

Tud, tud, tud, tud, tud, tud-

Misa felt her fastening heartbeat drum in her ears and ribcage as she swallowed and shook her head, a breathy chuckle getting lost in the noise of the club. You turned around, threw your hair over your shoulder and disappeared into the crowd as a new song started to play.

Misa had stayed there for ten minutes, sipping her beer occasionally while fiercely guarding your drink with her hand, shielding it whenever anyone walked by. When she'd finished her drink, she'd had a brief moment of bravery and had considered finding you in the dancing crowd after all. She could do it. There was nothing wrong with dancing with friends during a night out, especially not after drinks had been involved, albeit only one or two. Her beer had barely gotten her tipsy, she needed more of that, but she wanted to keep her wits about her if she were to interact with you. One misplaced word or longing look and she would be discovered. Remaining undetected had proven a difficult task even while sober. Still, she knew that she could dance beside you, especially if the others were with you. But that daydream had popped when your maroon dress appeared in her peripheral.

You had closed your eyes, giving in to the music and letting your hands glide sensually over your curves. You oozed self-assuredness, elegance and sexiness, displaying how truly comfortable you were in your own skin. You could've gotten lost in the music and was nearly at the point of forgetting where you were when you felt someone behind you.

Misa watched as your body moved with a fluid, sensual kind of grace that had her captivated, but she got distracted by the tall and tanned woman approaching you. She had wavy black hair and looked like some damned ancient goddess with her height and poise. She was tightly pressed against your back, her hands on your hips as you both danced in sync with the rhythm of the music. Misa watched in horror as one of the woman's hands glided from your hip to your stomach, then further upwards until she pulled your chin to the side so she could look at you. As soon as she leaned in, you didn't push her off like Misa had expected you to, but you turned around and snaked your arms around her neck, pushing your hips flush against her.

Misa turned away when your hand grabbed a fistful of those black locks and you moved in the hot and heavy pace of your feverish makeout. She stood there, frozen, your drink in her hand and her heart crumbling as fast as her confidence.

Back to the booth it was, it seemed. She pushed herself off the stool, taking one last glance to see if you'd seen reason and pushed the woman off after all, but sighed and retreated. All her bravery and hope had vanished and she felt pathetic for ever thinking of dancing with you like some foolish teenage girl dancing with her crush at her senior year's school prom. The reference instantly reminded her that all it would and could ever be, was a crush. A silly, pitiful crush.

"What's happened?" Patri asked as soon as she saw how faraway in her thoughts Misa seemed.

"Nothing?" Misa pushed out a chuckle, carefully setting down the drink she'd guarded for the past fifteen minutes, in vain.

"Fucking hell-" Sounded, and everyone looked at Alexia, whose eyes were glaring at something happening in the background. Going by the tone and rigidness in your sister's posture, Misa could take a good guess what it was about.

You had lost yourself in the heady feeling of growing desire with the stranger in your arms. And if Misa had felt uneasy, she could only guess the level of discomfort Alexia was in seeing her littlest sister engaging in such... activities.

"Ale-" Olga quickly pulled her girlfriend back down.

"I can't stand this self-destructing behaviour any longer. I knew this would happen if we'd take her. It's painful to watch."

"She's... she's just kissing, though?" Mariona wondered, not seeing the problem in a young and single woman having some fun and letting go of her inhibitions for the night.

Laia blew out a breath, "More like getting her face eaten off."

"I thought she was with Jenni and the others?!" Alexia grumbled, turning her head to not have to see her little sister practically dry-humping a stranger, "Where's Alba?"

"Bathroom."

Patri had barely even answered when they watched the situation unfold before them. Alba had walked out of the bathroom, clearly having been met with the same distasteful display right in front of her and not going to tolerate whatever bullshit coping mechanism this was.

"Oh, no."

You felt a set of arms pull at your waist from behind, tearing you from the stranger's grasp. A split second later, you went from being glued to one torso to the other, but as soon as you heard her voice, you knew you were in deep trouble.

"We're going home." Alba growled.

With wide eyes from both shock and the desire still lingering somewhere within you, you watched as the woman you'd been dancing with took a step towards your sister, clearly wanting to intimidate her after the stunt she'd just pulled with you. She couldn't have a clue who Alba was. In her eyes, your sister was just another woman who'd had a little too much to drink and had crossed a line and made you uncomfortable. She glared at your sister, and though she was two heads taller than Alba, the tiny spitfire of your sister beside you wasn't impressed.

"Hands off her." The woman spoke, eyes softening as she looked at you, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine-" You spat through gritted teeth as you harshly pulled yourself out of Alba's grip, sending her a nasty glare.

"Should we go?" She wondered, and you nodded. The woman's hand found yours, clearly still pent up with the same carnal craving swirling through her body, and wanting you to relieve her of it. But as she went to pull you out of the crowd, you were turned around.

Alba pushed your phone against your chest, eyes spitting fire but lip trembling as she realised she'd clearly lost any and all control over you. Especially at a time when she so desperately wanted to be there and guide you through your heartbreak. In a time when you needed her to stop you from making mistakes. Whatever you had been doing lately— trying to find solace in strangers to prove you weren't as unlovable as your ex had made you feel, to fill the emptiness, to feel longed after and cared for, even if the care had only sexual undertones. To get your frustrations out, then cry yourself to sleep afterwards and not leave your bed unless you had to go to work. It pained her how she was helpless. She couldn't believe how you didn't realise that putting a plaster on a gaping wound was laughable at best, but here you were, planting another plaster on the open wound of your heart, while letting the blood seep through your fingers.

When she looked at you, she knew she'd lost you entirely.

"Here, in case you wound up in some ditch and need us to get you." She spat, unable to mask her true feelings and be gentle towards you, and not let her own pain translate into fury. She had half hoped the interaction would shake some sense into you, but she scoffed and watched as you left.

Alba returned to the booth, immediately having to justify herself when Alexia was in her face, asking why the hell she would let you go so easily.

"Honestly, Ale, what's the use in fighting any longer? At this point I'm just waiting for her to smack face first into the ground to come to her senses, since we've clearly not gotten anywhere with our kind words and gentle coaxing." Alba sat down, head in her hands as she let out a big breath.

"You're letting her go home with some stranger and that doesn't worry you?!"

Alba looked up from her hands and shrugged, no energy left to fight it, "She's an adult. If she thinks she can handle it, then she'll have to handle it. She needs to make mistakes to learn from them." Alba shot back, "And it's not like she'll get pregnant. The only thing you'll have to worry about is her catching some STD, and even that won't be your problem."

Alexia opened her mouth, waving her hands around, feeling incredulous while trying to come up with words. She knew that the longer she waited, you would be one step closer to getting in some cab and starting her downward spiral of worries until you'd text her again, letting her know you were alive.

"I told myself that if she would try to leave with someone, I'd follow her out. She's staying here, and that's final." Alexia darted through the crowd, mind set, ignoring the pleas to stay put. She wasn't going to sit idle and let something happen to you again when she was right there and able to do something about it this time.

"God, she's going to embarrass her, isn't she?" Patri winced, already playing out the scene in her head of Alexia pulling you out of your fling's arms mid-kiss, much like Alba had done just now.

"Y/N's made her bed. Now she must lie in it."

Misa glanced at Alba, who seemed so calm and wise in comparison to merely two minutes ago on the dancefloor. It was as if a switch had been flicked off inside of your sister, as if she had suddenly stopped caring. But Misa knew that could never be it, and she was proven right when Alba's chin wobbled, betraying her true feelings.

When Alexia returned ten minutes later, sporting the same defeated look, she knew your sister had failed in her attempt to stop you.

"I can't find her anywhere. She's gone." She leaned into Olga, accepting the comfort of her arms, "Can I have my phone? I want to text her to stay safe. She needs to know she can call me if something's wrong."

Olga gave her girlfriend a pained smile but grabbed Alexia's phone out of her bag nonetheless.

It hurt so much more to have her phone open in the Candy Crush app, where you'd locked it, the over-the-top pink theme contrasting with her gloomy mood.

Olga perched her chin atop Alexia's shoulder and watched her type a message your way, "We'll be here when she needs us, Ale. That's all we can-"

Alexia jumped in her seat when someone harshly plopped down beside her. Her eyes widened when she witnessed your red-rimmed eyes and quivering chin. You knew how you looked and that, along with your actions from earlier, which you knew they'd all seen, filled you with shame. You didn't dare to look at who else was sitting in the booth to find out who had seen your pitiful display. You didn't even want to think how much of a fool you'd made yourself to be, and how differently they would surely start seeing you now.

"I'm sorry." You croaked out through your old tears, feeling the new ones burn in your eyes.

"Y/N! What the-" Alba perked up in her seat, all anger gone as she reached her arm across the table to get closer to you, hold onto your arm, fingers, your hand, hell- she didn't care. Her hand found yours and she winced at how hard you squeezed.

"Are you okay?!" Alexia asked, the boulder only half lifting off her chest with you beside her. Seeing how distraught you were didn't help. And seeing how hard you were biting into your bottom lip to hide how you were really feeling, hurt her even more.

They all looked at you, waiting for an answer, and once more Misa was made feeling like an intruder by your sudden appearance.

After some long seconds of trying to gain control over the wobble in your throat, you croaked out,

"Her name was Carmen."

Your shoulders shook with the sobs you tried to gently leave your mouth, but you failed massively at hiding them. Feeling looked at, you dropped Alba's hand and hid your face in your hands, muffling the sounds and the sight to any onlooker.

Your sisters' faces fell, knowing the significance of that name and why it had hurt to meet a stranger with the same one. Alexia's strong arm pulled you into her embrace, and it tore at her heart when she felt you push against her hold, not wanting to truly accept her comfort, as if you didn't feel deserving of it after having worried her and not listened to her. She knew it was how you could get- distant and wanting to solve your problems by yourself- but it didn't hurt any less knowing that you didn't want to let go of your sorrows and let your oldest sister hold onto them for you, even if only for a little while.

Realising that the feeling you'd wanted to escape had been put there by a woman with the same name, had tipped you over the edge. As soon as the stranger had asked you your name and had whispered hers in your ear in return, you'd crumbled, pushing yourself out of her arms.

Alba got up and crouched beside the seat, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your leg.

"Laelia, hey- look at me."

You heard Alexia coax, but only pushed your hands further against your face to the brim of suffocating yourself, if your sobs weren't already doing so. The makeup of your eyes was probably caked up in a messy mix right now, but you couldn't care less.

Alba gave a thankful smile to the girls in the booth who got up to excuse themselves, one by one. Alexia gently pried your hands off your face and dapped at your eyes with a napkin.

Your eyes then fell on the drink you'd ordered earlier that night, and you quickly took a few sips. Misa's throat tightened as your eyes locked across the booth. It was as if the drink had made you think of her... had made you look for her. She'd take it. She'd take any thought of her that would pop into your mind, even hoping it would bring you some much-needed distraction in your current state. Misa hated how she was making this situation about her crush on you again, and instantly looked away, waiting for her turn to slide out off the circular bench to give the three sisters some space.

You slurped every last drop out of your glass with the straw, then stood up, resolutely. Your sisters already opened their mouth in protest, but you waved off their worries.

"I need some fresh air. I promise I won't leave. I just- I need to get away from all this noise." You motioned around you but were talking about the chaos in your mind that screamed at you to be heard over the music.

Alexia stood up, but you pushed her back in her seat, not unkindly.

"I want to be alone, Ale."

"Like hell-"

"I don't think you should be alone right now."

But you didn't listen to your sisters' pleas and turned on your heel before they could pull you back.

"She's pushing us out again."

"She'll come back to you when she's ready," Olga was the voice of reason, calming the two down but immediately worrying them again as she added, "But I don't like leaving her alone any more than you two do."

"She's going to get mad again if she sees one of us, though."

Then, that bravery that had been building up all night finally reached its peak when Misa blurted out, "I'm okay with keeping an eye on her, just to make sure nothing happens, you know?"

"Would you do that?" Alba piped up, eyes hopeful and almost begging.

"Yeah," Misa nodded, dead serious, eyes flicking from your disappearing form to your sisters, not wanting to lose you in the crowd.

"Please, if you could?"

"Of course," She squeezed Alexia's arm on her way out of the booth, eyes already on the neon green exit sign high above the dancing crowd.

Outside, people were saying goodbye and calling it a night or having a smoke around you, but you had drowned them out the second you'd sat down on the cold curb. It reeked of spilt beer, cigarettes and urine, and it ripped off your rose-coloured glasses right away. You tugged at your dress, wanting it to cover more of your legs in the chilly night air, but realising you'd have to wrap your arms around yourself to warm you up.

Little, weak and vulnerable — three words that had started to co-exist in your mind whenever you thought of yourself... but that was how you felt. It was the harsh reality, it was who you were, who you'd always been, and you knew your ex had been right when she'd jabbed those words at you time and time again. If you weren't little or weak or vulnerable, you wouldn't be sitting here right now, chest ready to heave with the sobs wanting to come out after having met a stranger with the same fucking name. It was so pathetic, it made you chuckle bitterly.

It had felt like the universe's way of stopping you from making yet another questionable decision, and perhaps, you were glad it had stopped you. You knew you would have felt disgusted with your actions within twelve hours anyway, despite how good it would feel in the moment. However, that also meant you were left with the impending knowledge that you had to deal with your feelings in another way tonight. But how, you didn't know. You weren't good with your feelings. With letting someone in, again, to let them take half of your burden. You knew you'd never trust someone like that ever again. Any situationship or relationship you would have going forward would only ever reach a superficial level until you'd close the prison cell of your heart when they would get too close. You puffed out a breath before breaking down into a shuddering sob. Your back hunched over, and you put your face in your hands.

Misa watched from near the entrance, leaning against the brick wall and playing with a begonia she'd plucked out of one of the decorative flower planters next to her. It was a painful sight to see the girl who had once brightened up her days looking so miserable, and it was even more painful knowing that there was nothing she could do to help. Well, except for keeping an eye out right now, that was. She realised that she had perhaps deliberately decided to turn a blind eye to your agony before, basking in the small blurts of happiness she could see on your face and using them for her own gain, not looking further and realising how scarce those moments were for you nowadays.

You jumped in your seat when a duo of overly drunk boys started to bellow as they were trying to hail a cab. They cursed loudly when another group got to it before them, and sat down on the curb a few metres away from you. One of the boys's eyes wandered across the street, falling onto your shaken form.

"Hey!" He motioned you to come over, and you immediately tore your eyes away from them, blankly staring out into the street.

"Hey, you-" He whistled, and your chest swelled with anger. You gave him the nastiest look you could muster but bristled when they only seemed to snicker at your teary fury. You knew you looked horrible and pathetic, little and weak and vulnerable, but you didn't need to get reminded of that by some fresh-out-of-high-school boys.

You saw one of the boys stand up and you were ready to either scream bloody murder or tear him a new one, but furrowed your brows when they seemed to rethink their decision to approach. At the same time, you saw a shadow loom over you.

Looking up, you watched as Misa stood there, giving them the deathliest glare you'd ever seen. You knew she was a tough one on the field, knew she could be reserved around people she didn't know, you included, but you hadn't thought she'd had it in her to look so menacingly fierce off the pitch. And for what? To, out of all people, save you like some knight in shining armour?

The boys lost their interest in you when a cab stopped in front of them, but Misa hovered close, a safe distance away from you as she contemplated what to do now. She watched as you pulled your knees up to your chest and rested your chin against them. A chill breeze wafted through the street, blowing through the stray hairs that weren't stuck to your tear-stained face. Your refusal to acknowledge her presence after having noticed her, should have made her back off as fast as she'd approached the second she'd smelt trouble, but instead, she stood glued to the pavement. She played with her fingers, contemplating what to do and outweighing every scenario and its consequences. Then, after some agonising moments in thought, she decided it was better to stick with you now, showing you weren't alone and admit to the reason behind her presence, knowing you deserved honesty.

"We didn't want you to be out here by yourself."

You looked up, no trace of your beautiful radiating self to be seen, "I said I wanted to be alone," You sniffled and wiped at your puffy nose, "But thank you." You took a shaky breath, "Lord knows I would have ripped their heads off hadn't you come."

Misa wanted to smile at you still bringing lightheartedness to the conversation in an attempt to either comfort yourself or distract Misa from your true state, but she simply couldn't. Not when you were like this. Deciding she had broken the ice and had committed to it now anyway, she mustered up the last bit of courage and sat down beside you, still a reasonable amount of respectful distance keeping you apart. A little too much distance, for that matter.

"I wouldn't have looked at you differently if you had." She spoke gently, hoping you caught the underlying message in her words— just like she wasn't looking at you any differently now. You were still the most gorgeous girl she'd ever seen and you would still be able to send her insides to mush with one giggle or look.

She twirled the tiny begonia in her fingers. You watched her, looking at her fingers and the flower as a new set of silent tears coated your cheeks. Your eyes widened when, out of the blue, Misa's hand pried a lock of hair off your wet cheeks and placed it behind your ear before gently tucking the tiny flower behind it. She looked at you, truly looked at you, as if she was reading your face to sense what you were feeling. Then she smiled, not out of pity, but out of adoration, as if she could see through the tears and caked makeup and trouble and see the carefree girl you'd always been.

The entire gesture was so tender, something you hadn't been exposed to in a long while, that sobs then wracked your body once more. You didn't even care that your sister's friend was seeing this and would likely pass this along to her, too. You let the tears fall, the energy to keep them in no longer present. You hoped that the girl who'd been so reserved and indifferent around you before, wouldn't bat an eye now either.

Immediately, Misa felt horrified, afraid she'd crossed a boundary that had set off the tears. Her panic intensified when she had no clue what to do, so she figured not to think about it too much and go with her instinct. She put an arm around your shaking form and, when you burrowed into her chest, she felt herself float, despite the wet patch of tears forming on her shoulder and keeping her very much in the moment. Then she blinked, realising once more she was putting her crush over your well-being. Her grip around you tightened and the unbeatable sensation of fierce protection set her face in determination. She realised then that she should've had the balls to do this sooner, preferably when she'd overheard that phonecall all those months ago. You had deserved to be comforted then, too, to feel seen and understood, not alone, but Misa had been too much of a coward and had worried about her secret crush coming out that she'd held back.

"It's... it's okay." She whispered into the air, knowing you could hear her nonetheless with you so closely pressed to her, "You don't have to pretend you're fine."

You clutched at her shirt with your fist, pulling it closer to you, hating how Misa still seemed set to keep a distance between you and didn't let you bury yourself into her chest entirely. You'd never realised the woman had apparently been able to read you so well in her quietness around you, that she knew exactly what you were feeling. Still waters run deep, and she'd surprised you by proving that. It drew out the air of mystery she already had around her, but you felt afraid of what else she'd noticed that you thought no one had. That, along with the realisation of the situation you were in, filled you with shame. You pulled back and wiped at your nose. Your eyes widened in horror when you saw the glittered patch of your eyeshadow now on Misa's t-shirt. Furiously, you wiped at the spot.

Misa couldn't help but take you in, with your hair dishevelled, the flower now almost falling out of it, your cheeks flushed and wet, your eyes bloodshot and your nose stuffy as you wiped at it every few seconds. Pained, tortured and exhausted by it all and still, you were the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.

She didn't know half of what had went down with you, and with your ex, seeing as your breakup seemed to be the root of your pain. She'd heard enough during the phonecall, though— your quick and panicked muttered apologies, your fear and your weariness. She didn't need to know the rest to still be unable to grapple with why on earth someone could hurt you as much as your ex had. Her eyes turned damp, and it was a surprise when she felt the tears prickle. She wasn't an emotional person, she never cried, except for after a major and critical defeat on the pitch or if she got too angry about things that really mattered. Perhaps this was just such a moment. She became paralysed at the reveal.

Your voice was small, your shoulders hunched and your gaze to your lap as you softly mumbled out an apology. Misa's heart broke then and there, realising you'd been in that position more often than necessary. How often had you resorted to taking the blame to diffuse the situation and survive another day without a fight?

She watched as you slid away from her and tried to keep her tone light, veiling the sting of her heart, "For what? One wash and it's gone."

As if being stung by a bee, you seemed to realise what you were doing. You were letting your walls down to one of Alexia's friends, you were letting someone see you cry, admitting how little, weak and vulnerable you were indeed. You were letting someone take a peak behind the curtain of the confident and put-together woman you usually portrayed to be. You harshly wiped at your face, ruffled your hair and stood up to smooth down your dress.

Flee, flee, flee, flee, flee.

"Tell Ale and Alba that I got a taxi back home."

Misa followed your example and stood up, holding you back by your elbow, gently and with care.

"Let them take you home. Please."

You narrowed your eyes at her, having a hunch that the urgency in her voice didn't just stem from her worry for you, but at the fear of facing your sisters if she let you. It shouldn't have made you feel the way it did, to realise that Misa had only comforted you out of courtesy to your sisters, and not because she wanted to be the one to wrap you in her arms. Feeling a little defensive, you replied a bit too harshly, "I'm not going back in there."

"You don't have to. Let me text them. I'll wait here with you."

You debated it for a while, you truly did, but no. You couldn't step even one foot back into that nightmare of a place. With warm and sweaty bodies brushing against you, the mix of a dozen colognes and eau de perfumes, and the booming sound slapping you across your face. You didn't want this disaster of a night to be drawn out even longer than necessary. You'd learned your lesson in there, and you weren't going to go back in to come to terms with it. Not tonight, anyway.

"No, I'm sorry."

Your heels clicked as you walked the cobblestone street to the nearest taxi. Misa watched, realising she'd fucked up even the simple task of keeping you company. If only she hadn't wrapped you in her arms, maybe you would've waited it out with her. She had a hunch her sudden affection had been the tipping point for your need to run. Her eyes fell to the curb, where the crumpled begonia now lay forgotten. Without another thought, she pulled her wallet from her back pocket and tucked the little flower in between a couple of ten euro bills. Then, she couldn't help but let dread fill her stomach. She'd have to get back in there and tell your sisters what had happened.

Surprisingly, they hadn't taken the news as bad as Misa had expected. She figured it was the fact that Misa had seen you get in the taxi and knowing that no sane person, not even an insane one, your ex, would be waiting on your doorstep at one in the morning. The fact that you'd shared your live location with your sisters and they'd watched the dot move through the city until it arrived at your place, had aided as well.

Plus, as Alexia had added with awareness, "We should've gone after her ourselves. You couldn't know how stubborn she really was."

But Misa'd had a hunch after all the time she'd spent adoring you. It was one of the things she admired. You had a will and mind of your own, not an opinion easily curated by the world around you. You knew what you liked and wanted.

The sisters, including Olga, had decided to call it a night then and there, calling a taxi and driving straight to your apartment, just to make sure. Misa, not really feeling up for any more pretend-partying after all that had happened, had decided to leave as well after trying to stick around for another half hour to not be an ass when Jenni had bought her a new drink.

She hoped that you were safely tucked in your bed right now, ready to let sleep wash away your sorrows, even if it was only for the night.

Much later, she'd find out how wrong she'd really been.

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

© 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆.🖤

[rach067]

⋆*·ﾟSo what if flowers wilt... misa x putellas!femreader

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

your sisters are left dealing with the aftermaths of what happened in the club, and you wake up to a flowery surprise.

or; part three of the as the flowers bloom, my heart does too universe

(no misa in this chapter. well... not in person, but in spirit... if you know, you know!)

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

"Are we sure she's home?" Olga asked before the three of them slipped inside the building with Alexia's key. The patter of their footsteps echoed against the walls of the stairwell of the old apartment building.

"Ale, I really don't think we should go in, in case she called someone over after all," Alba whined, dread filling her limbs with each step.

But Alexia stood firm, "I need to check on her." She pushed the key you'd given each of your sisters for emergencies into the lock and pushed the door open.

Your heels were discarded on the carpet in the hall, your clutch with its content spilled out on the little dresser. It was dark, aside from the little ball of warm light coming from the living room and casting shadows through the hallway. It was dead silent. Until it very clearly wasn't.

Alba immediately put her hands on her ears, afraid the high-pitched scream would be followed with sounds she could never un-hear, but let them drop again when she realised your sighs and cries weren't born from pleasure.

"You've ruined my life! You've ruined me! Fuck you!"

The dread of knowing you were talking to someone, and having a hunch on who you'd lash out on this way, made Alexia cross the hallway within seconds before she ran into the livingroom with Olga and Alba in tow, albeit hesitantly.

Alexia had her hands balled into fists, instinct taking over to protect her little sister from the monster that was making her cry this hearting-achingly. Frantically, she looked around for the perpetrator behind your pain, but there was only one person pacing the living room.

The sight before them absolutely tore them apart.

With your makeup smudged, your hair a mess and your face blotched and wet, your shoulders shaking and your chest heaving, you were pacing through your living room, your phone clutched tightly into your hand as you yelled into it.

A sob racked your body when you hurried out a blabbered sentence through your tears, and Alexia's stomach dropped. You paced around, yelling into the device, your Spanish blurring together in an incohesive mumble in the heat of your anger and sorrow. She half wondered how none of your neighbours had taken to calling the police with all this yelling after midnight, but she figured this had been the usual back when your ex had stayed with you and could start a fight about everything.

So, it didn't take a wild guess to figure out who was on the other side of the line.

Alexia rushed over, wrapping you in her arms, stopping you from pacing. Startled at having been pulled out of your state, you shrieked and fought her hold, but Alexia pushed you against her chest with great strength.

"Hey, hey, hey. Mira me- look at me. It's me. You're safe. We're here."

She tried to coax you down into her side on the couch, but your body was rigid and shaking. Alba walked over, unsurely, never having seen you in such a state and afraid any wrong move would ruin you even more. Her hand shook as she rubbed against your back, trying to help calm you down.

Alexia and Alba exchanged a look and Alba nodded, gently trying to pry the phone out of your iron grip— emphasis on trying.

"Give me your phone."

"No- I'm not done." You growled, turning away from Alba, but let Alexia pull it from your hand after your exhaustion set in.

Alexia further cradled you into her arms and held the phone out for Alba to take, who got ready to give the person on the other end of the line a big chunk of her mind, when she peeked at the screen and furrowed her brows.

"You're not even talking to anyone?" She questioned, seriously worrying about your sanity now.

"She hung up five minutes ago but I wasn't done." You heaved as Alexia shushed you again, helping you simmer down. With balled fists clutching onto your sister's shirt, you felt as if you were five again-- finding comfort in your older sister's embrace after you'd hurt yourself or got overwhelmed.

Alexia placed a kiss on your hair while Alba softly wiped the snot and tears away from your face with a napkin.

You could hear someone else move around your living room, the clinging of glasses and the faucet turning on before Olga appeared crouched before you. Embarrassment suddenly kicked in at the realisation it hadn't just been your sisters who'd seen you break.

"Drink something, Y/N/N." Her hand cupped your trembling one as she helped you take a few sips. You felt pathetic, but couldn't help but agree that the cold freshness of the water did help. The quiet moment didn't last long.

"Why would you accept her call?! Unless you called her yourself, but I sure hope that you weren't stupid enough to do that." Alba fired at you, but Alexia immediately gave her a stern look.

"Because she kept calling. I was afraid she'd come over if I didn't," You turned to Alexia, who was still cradling you, "Can you help me get new locks?" Alexia's heart broke at the look you gave her.

"We should've done that earlier. I'll call someone first thing tomorrow." She seemed to exchange a look with Olga, who nodded, "And I'm staying in the spare room tonight."

"No, you have a match tomorrow." Resolutely, Alba dropped her stuff and kicked off her heels, "But I'm staying."

"Well, I'm staying, too. End of discussion." Alexia huffed out, frustrated with herself that her tight schedule was trying to have her neglect her littlest sister when she needed her the most.

Immediately, you spoke, "No, I don't want Olga to have to be alone because of me." Alexia's chest tightened at how you spoke of yourself, at how your lips had snarled in distaste, as if you weren't worthy of the comfort the three of them were giving you.

Olga appeared before you again, gently dabbing at your hairline with a cold towel, "Y/N, you're family, you're important," She gave you a gentle smile, one clearly meant to calm you down and add some lightheartedness to the tension in your chest.

"I'm going to bring Olga home, then I'll come back, okay?" Alexia pulled you up and gently handed you over to Alba, who walked with you to your bedroom, helping your shaking form out of the dress you'd picked out for the club and into your most comfortable sleepwear. It was as if your tears had finally gone out of stock with the amount of emotional exhaustion you suddenly felt wash over you. You were but a mere vessel of yourself now. Empty and hollow. Exhausted to no end, no more room to feel.

Alba grabbed your chin and wiped your face with your makeup wipes, not looking into your puffy eyes that were staring at her, knowing it would break her resolve. She quickly turned around to throw the wipes away, her chin already wobbling.

"I got you a Tinder brunch date tomorrow." You mumbled out stoically, watching her eyes widen to twice their size as she quickly turned around.

"When did you-?!"

"When you gave me your phone." You wiped your stuffy nose with the back of your sleeve.

"Jesus, Y/N."

Your lip trembled, feeling more and more like a failure as your sister sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"She- She's pretty, likes dogs and has n-nice tattoos." You hiccuped through your old tears, suddenly feeling new ones well up, "I meant well..."

Alba rubbed her temples, knowing you were on the verge of another breakdown and that she needed to tread carefully.

"It's okay, Y/N/N."

"I just thought- I just want to see you happy and in love."

Alba finally let the tears fall. They were silent, but fell in rapid flow, "I don't really care about relationships right now. I'll be happy when you are. I promise you." She walked back over to your slumped form on the bed. You immediately latched onto her waist and hugged her, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to let the warmth and love of your sister's safe embrace engulf you.

After Alba changed into one of your oversized shirts, she pulled you in your bed and tucked you in safely, promising you she'd be back after cleaning up the mess you'd made in the hallway and living room.

Alba knew she shouldn't have left you by yourself, ready to wallow in your sorrow again and fall into the deep web of overflowing emotions and overthinking worries, but she knew that if she didn't step out to take a breather, she'd break down herself. The way you had trembled, the way your eyes had been filled with pure devastation and pain, had ruined her more than she would probably ever admit. The last time she'd seen your big, teary eyes look up at her like that, had been when your family had been in utter shambles. She took a big sigh and rolled her shoulders, sending away any negative feeling wanting to pull her down that rabbit hole again.

"Hey," Alba turned around, a stack of fallen magazines in her hands as Alexia stood in the doorway, taking off her jacket.

"Hey."

"How is she?"

"Alive," Alba sighed and threw the magazines back on their stack next to the couch. She stood still, frozen in place, staring at the magazines while she could hear Alexia throw her jacket over the barstool.

"Thank you," She turned around, facing her sister, "For being here."

Alexia gave her a tight-lipped smile, exactly sensing the deeper layer of Alba's thank you. Alexia was a great athlete, but that hadn't always coexisted next to being a great sister, leaving Alba to take over when she had been just as young herself. The fact that Alexia was here now, showing her they were doing this together, meant a whole lot to her.

Alexia walked over, wrapping Alba in a tight hug, feeling the younger woman starting to shake a bit. It was hard not to, so she let it happen as the tears fell.

"Oh, God-" Alba grumbled through a snicker and wiped her tears away, "Look at us."

Alexia smiled softly, knowing you weren't the only Putellas who was allergic to letting emotions show.

"It's okay." Alexia reassured.

Alba nodded, "Okay." She blew out a breath, "I'm not ready to go back in, but I don't want her to be alone."

"I'll go."

A soft knock on the door a while later had you look up, and Alexia's head appeared around the door, quietly peeking to see if you were still awake.

"Hey, soldier," She tried to smile to comfort you, but it looked more like a grimace the second she held the doorpost. Immediately, she whisked her hand away as if she got burned by the crack she felt in the wood, reminding her of bad times.

She didn't say a word after, only kicked off her shoes and threw on the hood of her Nike hoodie before burying herself beneath the mountain of covers Alba had covered you with. You sniffled and snuggled up to your older sister, much like old times during nights before a big day or after nightmares. She pulled you closer, planting a chaste kiss on your messy mop of hair. The silence was a little unsettling for her, because she knew that that meant you were busy thinking about a thousand things in your head. And, to be fair, so was she.

It was clear what you had been thinking about when you spoke,

"Please, don't tell Mama," You mumbled against her chest as her hand played with your locks of hair.

"You can't hide your pain from her forever."

"I don't want to worry her or make her sad again." You sounded like a child with a small vocabulary as you muttered, but who was still able to perfectly get her point across. Sometimes there was power in simplicity.

Alexia sighed, knowing how badly little-you had reacted to your own and your family's heartbreak after your father had passed. Despite your age, you had all these emotions, all these feelings you had no clue what to do with. Atop of that, you'd absorbed everyone else's emotions like a sponge, and often lashed out when it got you too overwhelmed. Your grades in school had dropped, you'd lost a few friends who hadn't understood how you were still so down after a few weeks and you had started to fight with Alba or be cross with your mother. It had been the start of your sometimes unbearable behaviour and had only added to your mother's agony instead of relieving her from it.

"But she's your mother, she wants to be there for you when you need her the most. Much like Alba and I want." She pulled you closer, inhaling your familiar scent—  the same shampoo scent she remembered you'd used ever since your pre-teens when it had lingered in the bathroom after you'd occupied it when she'd specifically requested to use it after training, "So don't push us out again, okay?"

You shook your head against her chest, not looking up when you heard your bedroom door creak open a moment later. The bed dipped behind you.

Alba spooned you as she got beneath the covers, arm slung around you while her hand reached out for Alexia's. The three of you lay there for a couple of minutes, in silence. Your bed wasn't large enough to feel like the gigantic bed of your parents which the three of you had often used as a trampoline or fallen asleep on to nap. Perhaps you had simply outgrown the size of your younger bodies, but it was a nostalgic kind of comforting nonetheless. With the three of you no longer living under the same roof, these moments had been scarce as of late. You realised how badly you'd missed and needed them now that they had their arms around you.

You tried to talk but no words came out, so you cleared your throat, "She might come tomorrow... or soon, you know?"

Simultaneously, your sisters's grip tightened around you.

"Let her come."

"I dare her to."

"She has something of mine, she wants to give back. That's partly why she called."

"Whatever could she have that she thinks is so important to you that she uses it as a bribe?"

Your lip trembled again when you stared at your chipped doorpost, realisation washing over you that your ex still had the one thing you had been yearning for—  the daisy and dolphin charm bracelet that your father had given you for the last birthday he'd been present at.

You pulled at Alexia's shirt, your sniffles drowning out against her chest. You could yell. She would forever be tethered to you so long as she had the one thing she knew you treasured the most. Your were too exhausted to bring it up, knowing you would have a lot of explaining to do once you broke that news, so you kept your mouth shut. And you preferred both your sisters very much out of jail, knowing what kind of mayhem could start once they learned of your secret. Besides, your body was depleted enough to fall into a deep sleep within ten minutes, now that you were in the safety of the arms of your sisters.

"Is she gone?" Alba whispered in the dark of your bedroom after your sniffles had stopped and your breathing seemed to have regulated.

"Yeah, out like a light."

Alba looked pensive for a little while. Alexia swallowed back the lump in her throat, knowing the tears would fall within the next hour, when Alba had fallen asleep too. That was if the girl could even get any sleep herself after this hell of a night. Alba's words earlier in the living room had meant a lot to her. Guiltily, she realised that Alba had done this more than she had—  often being the one to pick up the pieces of your heart whenever something had gone wrong... and you hadn't had the smoothest journey so far. She still blamed herself for not being around enough. Because if she'd been there, she could've seen right through you and would have known you weren't okay the second problems started to appear in your relationship.

Alba softly sat up in the bed, your arm still around her waist, "Imagine if you'd listened to me and we hadn't come here."

Alexia's voice rose, "Stop."

Alba pulled the duvet over your shoulders when you stopped breathing for a second, tucking you back in. Alexia felt relief when you didn't wake up.

"We'll need to do something, you know that, right? She needs us. She can't do this alone anymore, we can't let her."

"And we'll be there for her," Alba sighed, "No more idly waiting until she's ready. We were too nice to her about it before, trying to give her the space she wanted."

"We'll be there for her every step she needs to hold our hands." Alexia nodded, sealing the promise, "Wether that's driving her to therapy, or burning all the shit of the she-devil that's still lying around here. I'm sure I've missed some. And I'll call maintenance tomorrow, for a new lock."

"I'll call her friends and take her to mami."

"You really think we should tell mom? She'll be worried sick. Literally."

"She might be twenty-four but right now she needs her mom as much as she did when she was five."

"Mami's going to be upset."

"And she'll be even more upset if we keep it from her."

Alexia nodded and shuffled around to make herself comfortable, then turned around to your sleeping form. She leaned over, first planting a kiss on Alba's forehead before planting one on yours,

"I love you. Both of you."

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

Alexia hated the yawn that left her, the third one in barely two minutes. The rational part of her brain knew that not having been able to sleep a wink would surely ruin her entire day, and she had an important day ahead, but she couldn't think of that right now as her littlest sister lay exhaling soft puffs of air next to her. She softly brushed your hair out of your face and smiled, realising you were wearing an old and washed out jersey— her name on the back long gone. In your sleeping form and without make-up on, all snuggled up under your covers, you looked no day past twelve years-old. It was an endearing moment after a horrible night.

Alexia's eyes then fell on Alba, who was splayed about uncomfortably and snoring softly. At least she'd gotten some sleep, albeit without sheets covering her most of the night, but that was mostly thanks to your hogging. Knowing the two of you deserved all the sleep you could get, she quietly shuffled out of bed and peered out of the curtains. She pulled her phone off the charger on the nightstand but jumped when two notifications came in.

Alba stirred and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, Alexia's apologetic smile meeting her as she adjusted to the light that peered through the curtains.

"Wha-" She yawned, "What time is it?"

"Seven."

"Wow- that's way too early for me." Alba yawned again, sensing the exhaustion in Alexia's voice, "You didn't sleep, did you?"

"I'll take a nap later on the bus." She lied, knowing there was no way she could find any sleep with the worries currently playing on her mind.

Alba felt chilly and rubbed her arms, only now realising what had happened. She didn't know why she was still surprised, she should've expected to wake up with only one of her legs draped under the covers. This time, she couldn't find the courage to pull and pry the sheets you'd hogged off you and over herself again. She scooted closer to your sleeping form, pulled you against her and tried to find some warmth in your arms, tugging Alexia back down as well. Your eyelids were red and swollen and your cheeks blemished and flushed from all the tears you'd shed. A memory flashed through her mind, and it immediately hit her with the force of a car crash—  a much younger-you clinging to Alba, fisting her shirt in your hands and your body shaking with sobs. Back then, she'd long given up on trying to console you after having realised you were so caught up in your heart ache, that your older sister's muttered words went straight over your head. She had just held you... had squeezed when she felt your body shake with another wave of sobs, and cupped your head and held it safely against her shoulder. It had proved to work, back then... her quiet comfort. There had been times where all Alba had wanted to do was exchange you with one of her friend's younger siblings, who had to be far easier to live with and seemed way cooler. She still remembered the plenty diary passages where she'd begged the universe to rid her of her annoying little sister... but you needed her, and she had to admit, she needed you just as badly. Despite your grievances and quarrels, you had found the comfort you so needed in your sister, and she had let you hold onto her like a lifeline, admittedly using the opportunity to let out a set of tears herself. The amount of times the two of you had fought, had given the other the silent treatment for days until either she or you had shown up in the other's room deep in the night with teary sleepy eyes to sleep with the other had brought you closer. It had unified you and advanced your relationship from young siblings fighting over toys or clothes to maturing ones, realising there was strength and love to be found in a sibling.

Alexia knew you had envied her for some time, jealous of the escape she found in football. How she could throw herself into her passion and put everything on pause during those ninety minutes. How she could take her grief and turn it into fiery passion and dedication, while you were unable to do anything but let it simmer until an inevitable outburst. She'd sensed the innocent resentment in your eyes the second she'd seen it, and taken you with her to the local fields in your neighbourhood. She'd given you some of her old gear that would fit and switched from mindless passing and shooting to tiny lessons of agility and dribbles. But you hadn't taken to the sport as well as she had. It wasn't second nature to you, and each time the ball didn't hit the net or it bounced off your feet in an entirely different direction as you'd meant, your frustration would only grow. Still, despite being young, you realised she was taking time out of her busy day, time she probably much rather spent resting after all the training, to be with you. She might not have been the best at comforting you with words like your mama, or with tough love and eventual quality time like Alba, but she was there... making an effort. That counted for something, and meant a great deal. After many frustrated growls and kicks, and after your energy had depleted, she would sit with you on the grass, overlooking the rest of the fields. Her company was comforting, her presence grounding, as if all would stay all right as long as your big sister was right there with you. And even now, she needed you to know that it would.

As you lied there now between your sisters, years later, needing the protection and comfort you'd so clearly lacked the past few months, Alexia and Alba remembered the promise they'd made all those years ago when they'd first held you. They squeezed tighter from both your sides, not caring that they could risk waking you from your slumber. They just needed you to know they were there. They would always be.

A tired groan slipped past your lips. You felt a pounding headache coming on.

"No."

Alba sniggered, "To what? We haven't said anything."

"Yet." You mumbled against her, the deepest sigh leaving you as you felt Alexia snuggle closer into you from behind. Your nose was stuffy, your throat itched and your eyes felt like they'd grown the size of melons. It all made reality hit way too soon. You wished you could have stayed trapped in your bubble of slumber for a little longer, but knew that that bubble would have to pop eventually.

"What's for breakfast, superstar?" Alba asked, receiving a noncommittal hum in return.

"I happen to remember that flower, eggs and milk were on the grocery list last week," Alexia chided, nudging your sides, "Is someone hungry for tortitas?"

Your sisters waited expectantly, giving each other a victorious smile as you peeled open one of your eyes.

"I'm not getting out of bed," You huffed out, tiredly, hiding your face from the light that had seeped in through the room.

Alexia forcefully, yet playfully, grabbed your head in her hands and planted the fattest kiss with the loudest smack.

"You don't have to. We'll eat here."

"And can we watch-"

"Whatever your current celebrity crush is in?" Alexia laughed, knowing you too well, "Definitely, we can."

"Of course," Alba rolled her eyes, and joined the laughter, playfully planting a kiss just as wet on your forehead before following Alexia out the room.

"Wait-" Your sleep was gone as soon as guilt ate away at you. You pushed yourself up, "Your date, and your football match!"

"I'll be able to stick around for at least one tortita." Alexia reassured.

"And I asked for a rain check on my date. She really is cute, by the way," Alba winked.

Your sisters left the room, leaving you to yourself in some sort of a daze. Your mind was still too fried and tired to let it properly process all that had happened the past twelve hours, let alone the past few weeks. The one prominent thing that rose to the surface, was the realisation and peace that came with it, that whatever would happen next, you'd have your two sisters by your side. You heard their muffled voices through the door, pans clattering against each other and someone stumbling into something. Oh, how grateful you were to have them in your life.

As Alba started to rummage through your kitchen and get to work, Alexia started to clean a little of the mess still lying around. She opened your windows, organised all the things you had lying about in your bathroom and put a bundle of clothes in the washing. Her face turned to one of surprise when she recognised the familiar tiny jewellery box lying opened and forgotten between some makeup brushes on your bathroom counter. She recognised the blue velvet box with the name of the local jeweller of Mollet del Vallès scribbled inside within an instant. Her father had given each of his daughters a charm bracelet on their eleventh birthday, his lucky number. She still had the one he'd given her—  it had tiny cleats, footballs and the FC Barcelona crest as charms. She knew yours had daisies and dolphins, two obsessions of you at the time. Only, the box was empty. It was strange, for she knew it was too valuable to you to wear it out and about every day and risk losing it. There was only one day you would wear it, and... well, that day had been turned into an even more horrible one this year. Perhaps you had just given it another place, or clung to it in comfort after the events of the past few weeks. She made a note to ask you about it later.

She rose her brows in surprise when the buzz signalling someone was ringing your number downstairs rang through your apartment. Your building wasn't modern enough for her to see who was asking for your attention through some device, and she felt dreadful when the thought of it being your ex crossed her mind. She pressed the button of the intercom and it immediately crackled to life,

"Yes?"

She clenched and unclenched her hand into a fist, praying this day wouldn't start out horribly already. She sighed in relief when a male voice croaked through the tiny device on the wall.

"Delivery for Y/N Putellas."

Alexia rolled her eyes, knowing you liked to splurge, a little too often. Then again, if retail therapy was what had kept you up and running like a normal human being... and if you could afford it, then she'd gladly look the other way.

"I'll be down in a minute."

You had left the warmth of your bed and tiptoed into the kitchen as soon as the smell of something burning wafted into your bedroom.

"Alba-" You yelled through the apartment, "If this place burns down I will kill you!"

"Sorry!"

"Use the damn hood!"

"I hate the sound!" You could practically see Alba roll her eyes, "It's so obnoxious."

Not trusting your sister enough in the kitchen, you'd pulled yourself out of bed. The blanket you'd draped over you swept the floor behind you. It showed only your face as you walked up to your sister in the kitchen.

"The first one's always a mess." Alba justified while scraping the tortita off the pan and right into your trashcan.

You flicked on the hood above the stove and watched her drip half of the spoon of batter onto your counter, "Mama always does one at a time."

"Well, I don't have the luxury of time today."

You perched yourself onto the edge of your couch, staring at Alba, gut being punched once again. You'd half hoped, well, expected, that she would stick around now that she didn't have her brunch date to get to. You didn't want to be alone again. Not only did the prospect of being left with your thoughts worry you, you also worried about a certain someone arriving to your doorstep before maintenance could give you a new lock.

"Oh."

Alba immediately turned around, "No, no, no- I'm staying with you," She reassured with a smile, "We just have a full schedule ahead of us."

Groaning, you fell back onto the couch.

"I don't want to do anything, Alba."

"So I should just tell your friends you no longer want to see them... and tell mama she's cooking for one instead of three tonight? You've rotten inside that bed of yours long enough now. You're done with locking yourself away from the world now."

You knew better than to argue with your sister when she used her tone of finality. So you laid there, on your couch, inspecting your very boring ceiling.

You were relieved to see Alexia appear from out of the hallway, but what she held in her hand made you sit up in an instant— a large bouquet of flowers. You recognised a bunch of white peonies and pastel pink roses. In the middle of it was one large red dahlia.

"Hey, I thought we'd stay in bed?" Alexia wondered, walking over as if she wasn't carrying a bouquet thrice the size of her head.

"Oh, you really didn't have to do, but thank you." Alba played along, eyes too focused on the flowers and not on the pan in front of her while she tried to flip a pancake, making it crumble.

"It's for you," Alexia put the flowers out for you to grab, the fresh scent of them immediately filling the room.

"You guys got me these?" Your chin started to wobble again, feeling overwhelmed by the sweet surprise of your sisters, when Alexia swiftly shook her head.

"N-No," She muttered out, a little panicked, not wanting you to start your rollercoaster of emotions all over again, "They were just delivered to you. By a local florist."

Interest now piqued, Alba joined, "Who sent them then?"

Alexia eyed you, hoping this wasn't the start of some stalker you'd gotten yourself by inviting mere strangers into your home and bed. God knew she couldn't deal with anything like that atop of everything else. Alba warily inspected the bouquet for a note, a scribbled message on the wrapping paper—  anything to prove this wasn't a weak attempt from your ex to mend things.

Tears prickling in your eyes, your voice was shaking as you muttered, "Why would someone sent me flowers? I don't deserve-"

Alexia's features hardened as she crouched to get to your level, "Y/N, no. Just, no. No, no, no. Look at me- hey, listen," You found the eyes of your sister, "You do. You deserve all the love in the world and you might not believe me now, but you do." She pushed the bouquet against your chest, "And it seems we're not the only ones whose life you lift up simply by being there, or else they wouldn't have surprised you with this, so we're not being biased as your sisters."

Alba coughed, playfully, and lovingly brushed her fingers through your tangled bed hair, "Just the tiniest bit biased though. You can be an incredible pain in the ass."

Alexia shot her a look.

Suddenly, you jumped up, leaving your sisters confused to your abrupt leave.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm going to look for a vase- Oh, my-" Their heads whipped to the stove, where another pancake was ready for the bin again.

"Alba," You groaned, "When will you learn you multitask like shit?"

Alba couldn't help but laugh as you ran around the kitchen like a headless chicken, one hand holding the bouquet preciously to your chest as if it was a newborn baby, the other flipping Alba's concoction in the trash again.

"Wait- did you two even put eggs in this?"

Alexia and Alba gave each other an awkward look, realising they'd forgotten that. But forgetting an egg or two was always better than not being there for you.

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

© 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆.🖤

this has been waiting in my drafts to be published for three months now, hope you enjoy!

[rach067]

And they were roommates

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

..

-> Part 1 - 3.5k

-> Part 2 - 3.4k

-> Part 3 - 4K

-> Part 4 - 4.7K

-> Part 5 - 5.1k

-> Part 6 - 5.4k

-> Part 7 - 5.3k - march 7th

-> Part 8 - coming out soon

..

Concepts

Movie night

Baby

Alessia and Leah

[1]

[2]

..

MASTERLIST

[rach067]

CHAMPIONS LEAGUE | SL BENFICA v FC BARCELONA march 5, 2025

[rach067]

Hello 🌸

I was wondering if I could request the boyfriend headcanon you did for Phil Foden maybe for Pedri?

Love youuuu

pairing: pedri x reader

summary: what pedri would be like as a boyfriend

warnings: none

𝐏𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨…

➳ stare at you with the most lovesick look ever

➳ loves trying to guess your lipgloss flavours

➳ ask robert or frenkie for dating tips

➳ make sure your jacket is zipped up at all times

➳ bury his face in the crook of our neck

➳ want to lay in your arms after a loss

➳ hold your hand while driving

➳ gets all shy and pink when you compliment him

➳ as soon as he’s done with training, he drops his bag and gives you a big kiss

➳ try to make you breakfast on lazy days (key word: try)

➳ send pics of things he sees on trips that remind him of you

➳ press soft kisses on your neck when you're busy doing something like cooking

➳ keep your lip glosses in his car just incase you need them

➳ always pressing kisses to your forehead

➳ loves laying his head on your lap an watching you

➳ tell you about all the gossip that happened during training

small little fluffy imagine

it’s late, the soft hum of the city outside your window blending with the quiet rhythm of your breathing. you’re lying in bed next to pedri, the space between you two barely noticeable as he rests against the headboard, his leg brushing yours beneath the covers. the air is peaceful, calm, but there’s a quiet warmth that you both feel—just the simple, comfortable closeness.

you’re scrolling through your phone, mindlessly, but pedri’s gaze is focused on you, the corners of his lips curving into a soft smile as he watches. you glance over at him, catching him staring and raising an eyebrow. “what?” you ask, your voice light and teasing.

he chuckles softly, shaking his head. “nothing, just thinking about how lucky i am,” he says, his voice warm and genuine.

you feel your heart flutter, trying not to smile too big. “lucky, huh?” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

he shifts closer, the warmth of his body comforting. “yeah,” he says, his voice lowering as he leans in just enough to brush his lips against your cheek. “lucky to be here with you. i love how easy it is just to be with you like this.”

you feel his hand slide over to yours, gently intertwining your fingers, and it feels so effortless—like you’ve been doing this forever. there’s no rush, no pressure. just the softness of the moment.

“me too,” you whisper, turning your head slightly to meet his eyes. there’s something so tender in the way he looks at you, a quiet affection that makes everything feel so right.

he smiles, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “you always make everything feel better. even on the rough days.”

you squeeze his hand in return, your chest swelling with warmth. “i’m glad i can do that for you.”

without saying anything else, pedri shifts again, pulling you closer until your head rests on his chest. his arms wrap around you comfortably, and you close your eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“you’re so perfect,” he murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“you’re the perfect one,” you reply, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you snuggle even closer.

the rest of the world feels so far away in this moment, and all you need is this quiet, perfect peace—wrapped in his warmth, feeling like everything is exactly as it should be.

[rach067]

🗣️: “Pedri, Pedri, Pedri” 🪄

[rach067]

🌟

[rach067]

Happy birthday to the one and only La Reina 👑💙❤️