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viennakarma · 9 months

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Wreck my plans (that's my man)

Part 2 of Say Something

Lewis Hamilton x Reader | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: Juggling a new life as a divorced woman, a toddler and maybe a new (old) love.

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: Female reader, new love, a kinda asshole Lewis, co-parenting relationship, smut, oral sex (f receiving), a lot of spanish pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Fernando Alonso x Reader, Ex!Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Notes: I know some of you wanted forgiveness for Lewis, and another bunch of you wanted Toto Wolff but I blindly opened the doc and these 4 thousand words just happened. If you really want an alternate ending (forgiving Lewis), drop something in my inbox and I might write a lil something for you ;)

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“Look, mama!” Luna pointed the little finger at the big poster of George Russell, “Uncle Joje!”

“Yep, that’s uncle George, my love!”

“And Dada! Dada!” She pointed to the next big poster, a big picture of Lewis wearing the team gear.

It was the first time you went back to a Grand Prix, in a little more than two years. And it was Luna’s first time ever attending. You and Lewis had a great co-parenting relationship, the world knew about Luna, but the Silverstone GP was going to be the first time she’d be seen publicly. You knew Lewis had hired the best security team just for this, and he had called you with a confident pep talk the night before.

As soon as the car stopped, you pulled Luna closer.

“Baby, stay close to mama, yes? We’re going to see Dada and Papa Anthony too, ok?”

Your daughter nodded but you knew she didn’t really understand, so you just smiled at her and opened the door. You could feel the flashes popping around the two of you, and could imagine everyone wondering what Lewis’ ex wife was doing there.

The bodyguards walked you and Luna over to the Mercedes’ hospitality. You found Lewis in the privacy of his little driver’s room.

“Dada!” Luna squealed as soon as she saw him, casual jeans and the team shirt.

You smiled, setting your little girl down so she could run to her father’s arms. Lewis smiled big, that one smile he only directed to his daughter. Lewis picked her up, kissing her face and hugging her.

“Hi, Lewis!” You greeted him with a side hug, since Luna was still in his arms.

“Hi, Y/N! Are you two ok? Was the trip here alright?” He asked, attentive.

“Yes, thank you. How is your schedule? You wanna stay with her a little?” You asked.

“Yes, I want to be with her. My dad’s at the hospitality too, he’s dying to see Luna.”

You gave him your daughter’s bag, with nappies, toys, drinks and snacks. You told him to call if needed, anything. Kissing your baby’s cheek, you left Lewis’ room to give them a little space and privacy.

Walking around aimlessly, seeing the energy flowing was kind of fun. You walked by Ferrari and greeted both drivers, who you had known back when you were married to Lewis. A good part of the grid had changed, but the few from before still recognised you and talked to you.

You were going back to Mercedes to check on Luna when you hit someone chest to chest.

“Oh, god! I’m so sorry!” You whispered.

“Y/N” he greeted you. You met the gaze of beautiful brown eyes, in an almost green kind of shade.

“Fernando! Hi!” You finally recognized the spaniard.

You had met Fernando the same night you had met Lewis, introduced by Sebastian and his wife after you created the project for their family home.

“It’s good to see you,” Fernando said, still holding your shoulder.

“You too.”

“I’m sorry about the divorce.”

“Uh, don’t worry. It’s been a while, Lewis and I are friends now.”

Fernando nodded, his eyes on your face. You stared at his eyes, trying to find something to say, to fill in the awkward silence.

“You’re just as beautiful as ever,” he whispered almost in a daze. You felt the blush creeping up your face.

“Thank you, you look handsome too,” you said, and you phone started ringing, you checked to see it was Lewis calling, “sorry, I gotta go,”

“See you around?” Fernando asked.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around, Fernando.”

You started walking away feeling butterflies in your stomach, like a silly teenager. You were walking but as you looked back, Fernando was still there staring at your distancing figure.

Fernando never forgot your pretty smile. He had met you so long ago, in a party hosted by Sebastian and his wife. Fernando had been enchanted by you, by the way your presence lit up the room, by how smart you sounded, by how clever you were. The problem was Fernando had gotten to the party late, and when he arrived, you had already met Lewis, fully entranced by the British man's charisma.

Fernando still had a silly crush on you when you were dating Lewis and he saw you around, but after you got married, he had forced himself to move on.

Now it felt like some sort of miracle, bumping into you again.

He didn’t lose any time. As he went back to the Aston Martin garage, he called someone.

It was a couple of hours later and you were by the Mercedes garage chatting with Anthony and keeping an eye on Luna who was running around with George and Lewis, greeting engineers and mechanics, enchanting everyone with her charm.

Someone wearing green came into the garage and everyone stopped, looking at the intruder from the Aston Martin team. The Aston Martin lady handed you a big bouquet of lilies and excused herself.

Every single pair of eyes were set on you and the mysterious bouquet. With your face red, you pulled the card, opening.

“Glad to see you again, hermosa. - Fernando”

You smiled, covering your face. On the back of the card was a phone number.

“Who’s that from?” Lewis asked and suddenly everyone was silent, tension rising up.

“Lewis,” you said between gritted teeth, “you’re making a scene.” Lewis seemed to realize everyone had an eye on you two, so you just turned to Anthony and said, “can you keep an eye on Luna for a couple of minutes please?”

After confirmation, you walked inside, taking your bouquet with you, and putting the number on your phone.

“Who’s it from?” Lewis followed you inside.

“It’s none of your fucking business, Lewis.”

“It is because you’re the mother of my kid.”

“Which means the only topic concerning you is our kid!” You whispered angrily.

“You’re dating, now?”

“Fuck off, Lewis!” You exclaimed, a surge of anger coming through your chest, “Don’t come at me all high and mighty now. You cheated on me, and I still let you be close to my daughter, and I still treat you with respect! I kept the secret of why our marriage ended to save your reputation and we only have a good relationship for her sake!”

You knew the words struck a nerve because his chest was heaving. You had been respectful to Lewis ever since the pregnancy because you wanted your daughter to grow up in a safe and happy environment. But that was where you drew the line.

“My life doesn’t revolve around you anymore.”

Leaving Lewis behind, you went to a room in the hospitality and managed to send a thank you text to Fernando.

You ended up accepting going on a date with Fernando after a few weeks of calling and texting. He ended up going to your place in Edinburgh for a cozy dinner, in a week Luna had gone traveling with Lewis for the summer break.

After the divorce you faced a lot of backlash from Lewis’ fans, even if they didn’t know any details, they still blamed you for breaking their idol’s heart. A few man had flirted with you here and there, but pregnant for nine months and then raising a baby after, you didn’t have the time or energy to find romance. Dealing with the aftermath of your divorce with a world superstar athlete had been something else.

So you had been living a low profile life, one that Fernando fully respected. He and you opted for cooking dinner yourselves, preparing a pasta dish with lots of pomodoro sauce and cheese.

He was easy to talk to. So openly into you, complimenting you, talking about how pretty and how interesting you are. The Spanish charm was so real and delightful, after years of feeling rejected.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked, over a glass of wine while Fernando mixed a saucepan.

“Anything.”

“Why are you interested in me?” You sounded honestly confused.

You were a divorced woman, with a toddler, still trying to figure out the relationship you had with your ex, and living under the radar after having your face plastered all over the media. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was really into you or if it was some sort of vendetta against Lewis. You knew that despite them being on good terms now, there’s history between them, and many layers of rivalry you weren’t privy to, since it happened long before they met you.

“Is this to get back at Lewis in some way? Because I’d like to manage my expectations if that’s the case.”

He understood why you would be guarded and suspicious of his intentions. Your last relationship had imploded in a way that he could only imagine left you devastated. It must look off, a known rival of your ex-husband sweeping in and showing romantic interest. But Fernando didn’t mind showing you his true intentions as long as you allowed him.

Fernando turned the stove off, and walked around the kitchen island, standing in front of you, so close he was almost between your legs.

“It has nothing to do with him because I have always been interested in you,” he whispered like a secret, seeing you confused frown, he kept talking, “remember the night we met? Lewis left early, we went to the garden, and sat down by the fountain. We shared a bottle of wine and a cigarette. Just me and you watching the sun rise.”

“Fernando…” you whispered back, remembering. Of course you knew about that, but for so long your life was entangled to Lewis, that the memory of that night was only attached to him in your brain.

But that had happened. You and Fernando had talked late into the night, chatting about life and the future, sitting barefoot on the grass, passing a wine bottle between you. Fernando didn’t flirt with you that day, he just chatted.

At the time you were so infatuated with Lewis already, that you didn’t see what was right under your nose.

“And for years after that,” Fernando gulped, looking a bit guilty, “I wondered if I had gone to the party earlier, if I had met you first, wouldn’t it be me by your side?”

“You’ve been into me all these years?” You asked, shocked.

“I have been in love all these years.”

You held his face, pulling him into you, kissing him. He was shocked at first, but as soon as it wore off, his hand slipped around your waist, pulling you flush into him. With the other hand, he cradled your head by the nape, his lips leaving your mouth, to kiss down your neck and nip at your earlobe, which had you moaning softly, melting against him.

“I’m sorry, hermosa,” he apologized, taking a step back.

You were panting softly as he stared at you, red face and lips, hair a little disheveled from his hand.

“Fernando,” you stood up, holding his hand, “come back here.”

You pulled him back, pressing your lips into his. He held you close, flush against his chest, opening his lips and deepening the kiss. You felt hot all over.

“I have dreamed about this, diosa.” He moaned into your lips.

“Can we-” you muttered between kisses, “can we skip dinner?”

You turned around to go back to the living room, hearing Fernando hearty laugh, and he immediately hugged you from behind, kissing your shoulder and neck. Finally making it to the sofa, you sat down. Fernando just knelt in front of you, pushing your dress up.

“Dessert first, sí?”

Laughing, you nodded, kicking your panties after he pushed them down your legs. Fernando bit into your thighs, and you moaned at the feel of his beard on your skin. With his head between your thighs, he mouthed you, licking a stripe into your cunt. Using a hand to open you up, he lapped your pussy like a man starved, pressing face, nose and tongue into your wetness. You had gone so long without another person, that now you were mushy under his ministrations. He still couldn’t get enough, so he put one of your legs over his shoulder, diving deeper, tongue over your clit and finger entering your cunt.

“Fuck, Nando. Too good, too good,” you gripped his hair, grinding on his face. He curled his fingers up inside you, finding your g-spot, making you shake, “I’m so close, baby. So, so close.”

He latched on to your clit, and you came hard, shaking, hips pressing into his face as you tried to come down. You were panting, breathless, as you came down from your high. Fernando stood up, sitting by your side, kissing you. You tasted yourself on his lips, and he held you.

You cupped the bulge in his pants, and he kept kissing you face gently, holding you in his arms like he wanted to never let go.

“We should take this to the bedroom,” he whispered into your ear, making goosebumps arise in your skin.

You two stumbled to the bedroom, laughing as you pulled each piece of clothing off, tossing them to the floor. You were fully naked by the time the door closed behind you in the bedroom.

You didn’t actually lay in the bed, since Fernando made you keep one foot on the floor and pushed your other leg on the mattress, leaving you open for him.

“Dios, I want to keep you in this bed for days until I have tasted all of you, cariño,” he said, running a calloused hand up and down from your back all the way to your butt, pressing his fingers over your cheeks, making you moan.

“Nando, please fuck me, just- I need you, please,” you begged, feeling the way he lined his cock to tease your entrance but not actually putting in, just coating himself with your wetness.

Then finally, he pushed inside, slowly, your walls pulling him in a perfect tight grip. The two of you cursed as you adapted to the feel of him inside, of having someone fucking you for the first time in years.

Fernando started fucking you softly, and you let him manhandle you as he pulled you back to stand up, your back against his chest, one of his hands snaking around your middle to keep him pressed to your backside and the other hand cradled your face by the jaw, forcing you to look ahead.

“Mírate, cariño (look at you, dear)” he whispered, making you face ahead, finding the full length mirror on the other side of the room, you could see perfectly, Fernando fucking you from behind, his sweaty face above your shoulder, your tits bouncing with each snap of his hips and his hands claiming your body like you were a fucking masterpiece, “you look so pretty taking my cock.”

You looked at the mirror, his hand keeping you up like a toy and he started pounding into you, and you could only moan his name as you felt the orgasm buildup, you threw your hand back, holding his head and pulling his hair and your other hand down to your clit as his thrusts became harder and slower. You felt yourself clench around him, coming hard as he whispered in your ear.

“Oh, you feel so good, hermosa. I bet it feels so good coming around my cock does it not?” He talked you through your high.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me. Please, baby.” You moaned and that did it for him, and you had him cumming with a couple of sloppy thrusts.

You two fell on the bed, breathless.

“Goddamn, Nano, you’re going to ruin my life,” You whispered.

“I’m happy to be of service,” he joked and you ended up laughing out loud, him accompanying you with a few giggles.

You two showered, and then dressed in robes, ate dinner on the living room floor, sharing the wine straight from the bottle just like the first time you met.

After talking for what felt like hours, he took you back to bed, feasting on your cunt until he pulled two more orgasms from you, and then fucking you slowly. Mouth on your nipples and a hand keeping your hips high as he fucked into you. You held onto him for dear life, fingers tangled on his soft hair and kissed him whenever he gave you the opportunity. He worshiped your body like you were the only woman to ever exist, intense eye contact and praising you every step of the way.

The next morning you woke up naked, spent and happy. You barely had the time to feel Nando’s absence in your bed when he entered the room, carrying a big tray with breakfast.

“¡Buenos días!” He greeted you with a peck and set the tray in front of you. There was coffee, juice, toast and cheese.

“Buenos días, baby” you said, lazily taking a sip of coffee, “this is nice. I’ve never been surprised with breakfast in bed before.”

“You deserve it, you took me so well last night, hermosa.” He kissed you quickly again, and you blushed because of his words.

You kept eating when he went to the opposite side of the room to take a phone call. You spoke intermediate Spanish because of work, but you didn’t pry in his conversation, instead focusing on recharging your energies.

“Duty calls?” You asked as he came back. He only nodded, which made you a little sad, “well, I was going to ask you to stay the weekend, but I understand you’re busy.”

“I’ll cancel my plans.” He shrugged.

“No, no, you don’t have to.” You said quickly, feeling guilty for messing with his schedule.

“Do you want me to spend the weekend?” He asked softly. And you just nodded, not wanting to be the cause of him getting in trouble with work. “Then I’ll spend the weekend.”

He immediately got into a phone call again, and from what you could gather, he was rescheduling his commitments for the next week.

“Why did you do that?” You reprimanded him, but deep down you were kinda giddy because he was going to stay the weekend.

“You’re a priority, not a second thought.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing ever. “Besides, I’ll never say no to spending more time with you, cariño.”

Throughout the next six months, you and Nando kept in touch and met here and there whenever Lewis had Luna over. He officially asked you to be his girlfriend when you spent a week with him in a secluded villa close to the beach in Spain. It’s not that you didn’t want Fernando to meet Luna, but you two were still figuring out your relationship and you didn’t want to introduce them and in case he ended up not sticking around for the long run.

“Are you sure?” You asked him suddenly one night when you two were cuddling on the balcony, staring at each other and at the sky.

“Sure of what?”

“Are you sure you wanna be with me, Fernando?” You asked absentmindedly, running your palm up and down his back.

“Yes, I am sure.”

“Why, though? I come with a kid and a lot of baggage?” As you said the words, Fernando pulled your hand and kissed your palm, putting it against his cheek, looking into your eyes.

“Because I want you.”

“Even with all the complications? Even if we never find a way to go public?”

“I don’t mind if I have to spend the rest of our lives reassuring you. I’m with you because I want you, simple as that” he said with his serious voice and thick accent, as a lump stuck on your throat, “I’m not with you because of what you look like by my side or what you can do for me. I’m with you because I love you.”

Your tears fell down and Fernando caught them with his lips, kissing your cheeks and tears away. It was so good and so safe, you never wanted to leave his side.

“The rest of our lives, eh?” You giggled, “I’m not gonna lie, I like the sound of that.”

“Bueno. I like the sound of that too.”

“Gracias, Nano. Yo te amo y te deseo también. (Thank you, Nano. I love you and I desire you too)”

“Wait-” he pushed himself up, “you speak Spanish?”

“Sí, lo hablo. (Yes, I do)” You laughed out loud at his dumbfounded face, and he held your wrists up above your head.

“Todo este tiempo hablaste español? (All this time you spoke spanish?)” He clicked his tongue, “eres tan mala y te voy a castigar. (You're so bad and I'm gonna punish you)”

You squealed as he carried you back inside, tossing you on the bed.

Eventually, you made up your mind about telling Lewis. Not because he had to know, but from a standpoint that he should know for the sake of Luna. So you stopped him one day when he came to drop off Luna.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” You asked after greeting your baby, “Luna, why don’t you take your new toys inside while Mommy and Daddy chat a little?” You watched your girl run inside, “Careful! The porch is slippery!”

“What happened?” Lewis asked, putting both hands on his pockets.

“I’m seeing someone.”

Your words made his stomach drop. The dreaded day had come. Lewis had noticed how you looked happier and healthier than before, how you were wearing more makeup and pretty stylish clothes. The other day you had a mysterious tan on your body when he came to drop Luna off, way too strong tan for Scotland, anyway.

You are one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, he found it a miracle it took you so long to find someone. Maybe deep down Lewis thought you two could mend your relationship.

“Who?” Was all he said.

“Fernando.”

“Fernando?” He frowned, “who’s Fernando?”

“Alonso.” You bit your lip, waiting for an explosive reaction, but Lewis went silent, thinking.

“I can’t believe this. He’s just using you to target me, can’t you see?”

“So that’s all you see me as? An object? A ploy crafted to only be used for you or against you?” You asked, crossing your arms defensively.

“That’s not what I mean! He’s- he’s evil, you know that!” Lewis bared his teeth, getting angrier by the second.

“I don’t. That’s not how he is to me.” You shrugged.

“Do you have any idea how messy this will look when it comes out? Are you ready to face the consequences of this stupid adventure to get back at me?”

His words made you raise your walls, defensive, that sounded dangerously like a threat. You remained collected, because if Lewis wanted to go low, then you’d go lower.

“I’ll let this one slide, but it sounded dangerously close to a fucking threat,” you started, your voice so cold it sent shivers up his spine, “This had nothing to do with you. Nothing. But if this information leaks, I’ll know who did it. And if you do this to damage my image to the world or try and force my hand into leaving him, then everyone will finally know why we divorced, and how the other woman kept harassing me while I was pregnant!”

“What?” His expression dropped.

He didn’t know because you didn’t tell him, because after a few months of mockery and threats through texts, you changed your number and it stopped. You still had the screenshots though.

“Luna will always be my greatest priority, and I love my baby girl. But my life has revolved around hers ever since I was pregnant, and before that my life revolved around you,” you felt a lump in your throat, eyes watering, “can I have this one thing for me? Is it selfish wanting to be loved?”

“I do. I love you.” He said, his voice wavering too.

“No, you don’t.” You shook your head, “you loved the idea of someone living solely for you. You loved that I was there during the good and the bad, picking up the pieces when you were down and popping the champagne when you were up. You loved that I loved you.”

You looked back, where Luna was calling you from the door.

“I am with Fernando now, and as Luna’s parents, I just didn't want you to be blindsided,” you turned around but looked at him over your shoulder, “don’t go ruining my future a second time.”

He flinched before your words. You knew it would cut deep, but you were tired of that conversation and his entitlement to your life and decisions.

A few weeks later, you introduced Luna to Fernando, and to your surprise, they got along so well. Probably because he bought her a lot of presents. She liked his presence most of the times, despite feeling jealous sometimes when he hugged you or kissed your cheeks.

When you and Fernando made it to a one year anniversary, you two adopted a kitten who had been abandoned by the road. Luna fell immediately in love with the pet, which found home with you. For Christmas, Nando’s gift to Luna was to install a swing and a see-saw on the garden, which ultimately made her completely enchanted by him, asking him to play all the time whenever they were at your place at the same time.

You were sitting on his lap while Luna played with the cat, throwing toys around.

“How would you feel about a baby?” You asked him. He straightened up, searching your eyes.

“Are you pregnant?” He sounded shocked.

“Of course not, tonto! (silly)” You giggled, “I’m just- mulling over the idea, wanting your opinion, you know.”

“Yes, I want more kids if you want too,” he said honestly, his hand softly caressing the side of your hip.

“Mhm,” you nuzzled into his neck.

“Your question came with good timing, you know, I have been thinking,” he mumbled, thinking, “Do you want me to retire?”

“What? Are you insane? You love racing, it’s like- it’s in your blood! You know I do-”

“That’s not what I asked,” Fernando interrupted you, “I asked if you want me to retire? We could move in together, spend more time together, I could move here.”

“You’d drop your sunny and warm Spain for Scotland?” Your voice was laced with doubt.

“I’d drop anything for you, don’t you see?” He lowered his voice, closer to your ear, “besides, we could always go back and forth here and Spain. I’d do it if it means I get to make love to you every day, and wake up by your side every morning.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were deep red.

“You love it.”

“That I do.”

“That sounds tempting but I could never ask you to stop racing, it’s literally your favorite thing!”

“You are my favorite thing.”

“Fernando…” you whined and he laughed.

“Ok, let’s meet in the middle, sí?” He proposed, kissing your cheek, “if you get pregnant, I drop everything. Meanwhile, we let things run their course as it is, ok?”

“That’s perfect, mi amor” You laid back on his chest, watching Luna playing.

Headcanons | Another universe…

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula one #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #Spotify

2K notes · View notes

lwwife · 4 months

Note

heyyy i was eondering if you could write something where the reader is a single mom (maybe 4/5 y/o daughter or son) and is a nurse or teacher and she meets alexia putellas and idkkk you choose! thank youuj if you dooooo

La reina

Fluff - alexia x reader first meeting

Word count: 1,666

A/n: The accents on the words were playing up so i’m sorry they’re absent and the spanish is a little butchered😭

“Senorita (miss) Putellas?” You call out, turning the page on your clipboard. Two women make their way towards you. “Alba?” you ask them, smiling brightly.

“Si (yes)” the younger of the two women smiles.

“Hola (hello), come right through, I’ll prep you and the doctor shall be in any minute”.

“Vale, gracias (okay, thank you)” Alba and the older woman follow you to the examination room.

“And are you Madre (mother)?” You turn to the other woman.

“Si” she smiles, taking a seat on one of the chairs, and grabs Alba’s hand.

“Mi hermana (my sister) is coming too, she’s just running a little late.”

“No problem, what’s her name? I’ll tell the front desk to direct her here when she arrives” you tell her.

“Alexia” she smiles.

“So as we proceed it’s very important that-“ the Doctor is suddenly interrupted by a frantic woman breaking through the door.

“Lo siento mucho hermana (I’m so sorry sister)” the woman speaks, slightly out of breath. The woman lowers her head slightly at the glare the Doctor gives her. You lift your head from your notes to see what the commotion is, and your jaw almost drops when your eyes lay on her. You lick your lips slightly and your eyes subtly scan over her body. She’s dressed in a matching tracksuit, a Barcelona badge plastered on both. That’s when you realise who she is. Alexia Putellas, la reina (the queen). Your 4-year-old daughter is infatuated with the footballer, posters plastered on her wall, backpacks, jerseys, and blankets with her face and red and blue splattered all over your house. “Lo siento” the woman whispers again, quietly taking a seat next to her mother. You let out a breathy laugh quietly and she catches your eyes as she lowers herself into the seat. You cover your mouth with your hand, holding in a laugh and she cracks a smile at you, lowering her head, red coating her cheeks slightly.

Throughout the rest of the consultation, you and Alexia, both catch each other staring, each quickly looking away each time. As the appointment comes to an end Alba, Eli, and the Doctor make their way to the door. You and Alexia behind them. She grabs the door, as the other three leave the room, stopping it from shutting. She turns to you, a shy smile on her face as she opens the door widely for you to walk through. You smile at her and lower your head, “Gracias (thank you)” you whisper.

“De nada, hermosa (you’re welcome, beautiful) she whispers, the complimentary word hardly audible. As you both exit the room she joins her family, as you come to the side of the Doctor.

“Alright Alba, we’ll see you next week” the Doctor smiles.

“Mucho gracias Doctor” she smiles back. As the trio make their way out of the practice, Alexia turns her head back slightly, she catches your eye, smiles softly and waves shyly before making her way out the door.

“Mama!” your daughter whines out from the couch, her adorable baby voice still making you smile after these years. The four-year-old calls out again softly, “Mama?”

“Yes, carino? (sweetheart)” you call back. Next thing you know, you hear little footsteps running across the floor, and you feel a gentle tug on your pants. You turn around, met with the sight of your four-year-old, Isabella looking up at you, her favourite stuffed toy wrapped up in her arm. You smile softly at her and run your hand through her soft brown hair.

“What are you making mama?” she questions you, getting on her tippy toes to peek up at the kitchen counter.

“Tortillas bebe (baby)” she gasps at your answer.

“Those are my favourite mama, gracias” She hugs your leg, and you giggle at her slightly.

“Por supesto querida (of course darling)” You hold the back of her head as she cuddles into you. You look down at her, dressed in her Barcelona pyjamas you are reminded of your meeting with the Catalonian women earlier today. You crouch slightly and lift her up, placing her on the kitchen counter. “Guess who I saw today?”

“Quien mama (who)?” she questions. You smile at her speaking your native tongue. Since her dad moved back to England, her Spanish has improved.

“Alexia” you whisper.

“No!” she gasps, bringing her hands over her mouth.

“Si bebe (baby), she came to Mama’s work today”

“Woah! Did you get foto?” she asks you, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“No querida (darling), I was working” You run your hands through her hair again and smile at her.

“Can I meet her? I’ll come work with you on Monday!”

“She won’t be there then querida (darling), she was just there today”.

“Oh, that’s okay, I’ll see her when I play for Barcelona!” She smiles happily.

“That you will mi amor (my love)”

“Querida (darling), what do you want?” you ask Isabella, standing in front of the display cabinet at your local café.

“Churros please mama” She sticks her tongue out the corner of her mouth excitedly.

“Vale (okay), do you want a drink?” but your daughter doesn’t answer, you turn to her to see she’s crouched down, fawning over a small and extremely fluffy dog.

“Le gustas (she likes you)” you hear a woman speak, and you lift your head, as does your daughter. Both of your mouths open.

“Woah” your daughter breathes out. Alexia smiles at your girl.

“Hola, como te ilamas? (Hello, what’s your name?)” Alexia crouches down to Isabella, still having not noticed you behind her.

“Isabella!” your daughter says proudly.

“Ah, Isabella, que bonito nombre (what a beautiful name)” Alexia smiles

“Gracias” Isabella smiles shyly, “Wait! Mama! Mama!” she tugs on your pants, “This is my mama”, she turns to Alexia, “You saw her yesterday! Mama say hi”.

Alexia stands back up, now face to face with you. She raises her eyebrows slightly, somewhat shocked to have seen you again. “Hola” she smiles.

“Hola” you reply, extremely shy.

“I’m glad to see you again,” she says, lowly. Isabella is now occupied with Alexia’s dog once again. “I never caught your name”.

“Y/n” you smile softly, still extremely nervous.

“Soy Alexia (I’m Alexia)” she replies.

“Trust me I know” you laugh. She smiles at you, showing her teeth. “Isabella loves you, you’re on her shirt” Alexia looks down, and spots her name and number spread across the young girl’s back. She smiles wide and turns back to you.

“Would you like to have a coffee with me, y/n?” Alexia asks you, her hands fiddling nervously.

“I um, well ah yes, si, why not?” you reply.

“Excelente, vale (Great, okay), uh, go take a seat I’ll grab the coffee.” She tells you.

“Oh no Alexia, I can get my own honestly it’s okay.” You object.

“Y/n, por favor (please)” She raises her eyebrows and places her hand on your arm, and suddenly you feel like you will do anything she asks.

“Vale (okay)” you smile.

“Isabella, would you like anything?” Alexia asks your daughter.

“No, it’s okay, mama getting me churro” She smiles up at her idol, before turning back to the puppy.

“Vale (okay)” Alexia laughs. You turn to go order your daughter her food when Alexia grabs your arm softly, “Y/n, I said I’ll get it”.

“Alexia, you really don’t have to, I can get Isabella’s”.

“I insist” she smiles, “por favour (please), sit down”.

You sigh at her, but smile nonetheless “Vale (okay)”

Alexia comes to the table you’ve chosen, with two coffees in hand and a plate of Churros balanced on her arm. You look at her, slightly impressed, and somewhat turned on at the sight of her arms on display.

“Gracias, Alexia, really,” you say to the Catalonian as she takes a seat opposite you. Your daughter is sitting next to you, the fluffy puppy on her lap, staring up at the young girl.

“por supuesto (of course)” she replies placing her hand on your arm once again, “Isabella, I have a surprise for you” she tells the young girl before sliding the churros over to her.

“Gracias Alexia! Mama, La Reina just bought me churros!” she whisper shouts to you.

You laugh softly at her cuteness, running your hand over her hair, “Aren’t you a lucky girl”, Alexia smiles softly at the site of the pair of you, finding your motherly role extremely attractive.

“Does she have a papa?” Alexia asks, and your eyes widen at her question. “Mierda, siento (shit, sorry), I uh, I just meant um” Alexia takes a deep breath and stops when she feels your warm hand on hers.

“We are separated, he lives in England. It’s just the two of us.” You tell her. Alexia grins at your response.

“Good… I mean, uh joder (fuck)” Isabella’s head whips up at her language.

“You owe me un euro (one euro) Alexia!”

“Isabella!” you snap. Alexia laughs, before handing your daughter the owed money. “Alexia!” you snap at her this time. Your daughter and Alexia look at each other and giggle.

“Lo siento (I’m sorry), y/n” she smirks at you. You roll your eyes playfully.

“How about you la Reina, anyone special for you?” you question her, hopeful the answer will be no.

“No, not at the moment,” she tells you. “Why do you ask? Are you interested?” she teases you, knocking her foot against your leg playfully. You stutter, unable to form a coherent sentence. “I’m kidding y/n”, she laughs. You smile at her, tight-lipped. “Although I can’t say I’d be opposed, eres increiblemente hermosa (you are incredibly beautiful)” She licks her lips and smiles at you once again and grabs your hand.

Your breath hitches, and it take you a good few seconds to compose yourself. You take a deep breath before speaking. “Would you like to come on a walk with us?” you ask her.

She rubs her thumb across the back of your hand, “I would love to” she whispers.

A/n: I don’t speak Spanish so I apologise if I butchered, I tried my best😭

I hope you all enjoyed! As always, kind feedback, as well as questions, conversations, or requests are always welcome in my inbox!

#alexiaputellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #barca women #alexia putellas imagine

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adascore · 4 months

Text

The Winner Takes It All

pairings: alexia putellas x england!reader / engwnt x captain!reader / aitana bonmati x england!reader / jenni hermoso x alexia putellas

warnings: swearing. angst. jealousy. world cup loss for england. crying. strong language.

author’s note: right when everything seems to finally fall into place, the world is witness to the fall of an all-time great.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | masterlist

August, 2023 - Sydney, Australia

''And Y/N Y/L puts England into the World Cup final for the first time in their history! Captain Fantastic!''

Even 4 days later, the echoes of their semifinal win against the Australian team continued to send shivers down her spine. The heartbreak of the previous World Cup defeats was still present within her, but the captain felt empowered and ready to face anyone that would be sent her way.

The looks on the girls' faces as she had put another ball into the back of the net were ingrained in her mind, the sheer happiness with which they ran to her is something she will not forget any time soon.

They would play the final against Spain, a final they must absolutely win- not only for the title, but for the dignity and integrity of the game.

Y/N had been supportive of the 15 Spanish players that had taken a stance against the treatment the team had received from their coach and federation. She didn't know any of them on a personal level, but the England player has always been one of the biggest advocates of the women's game, so she wanted everyone to know on which side she stood.

Some of the girls had reached out, thanking her for lifting them up and shedding more light on the situation. However, none of those girls would be playing against her in the final as they did not receive a call-up.

She found it difficult to decipher whether most of the Spanish players liked her or not. A lot of them were from the Barcelona team and well… she did not have the best history with them when she wore the Lyon shirt.

There wasn't any hostility, but the striker had stopped them from winning several more trophies, so she figured they would gladly maximize any chance to take one away from her as well.

Unlike last year's Champions League final, this one wasn't being dubbed as ''Putellas vs. Y/L'', instead Alexia's name had been replaced with Aitana's.

''What's it going to take to win against a very in-form Spain tomorrow?'' One of the reporters asked the England captain.

''Goals.'' Y/N answered, matter-of-fact, having the media room chuckling.

She had been relieved to not have to share the press conference with the Spanish team, having to act cordially with Vilda was not on her agenda.

It was the morning of the final when she first encountered the Spaniards, both squads being allowed to do their pitch inspections. Their opponents were already spread out on the pitch when the English side entered the stadium, decked in black suits while the Lionesses wore their light blue tracksuits.

Keira and Lucy clung to their Barcelona teammates, delighted to see them. Alessia, Ella and Mary walked over to Ona, while the remaining Brits stayed in their own smaller groups.

Y/N was the last player to make her way onto the grass, clearly not in any hurry whatsoever. She entered with Arjan, in an engaged conversation with the Dutchman about something that had happened during training.

As if there was an AirTag on the England captain, Alexia's eyes immediately found her from where she was standing with Lucy, Jenni and Laia. She immediately noted the confidence and aura that was radiating off of the younger woman, seemingly not bothered about the major final that would be happening that night.

Alexia observed how she gave the assistant coach a pat on the arm before inspecting the stadium on her own, walking on the sidelines without anyone by her side.

The Catalan's attention was solely on the Brit, long forgotten that she was in the middle of a conversation with her teammates.

Should I? No, I shouldn't bother her, she seems content on her own. I kinda want to talk to her, though. Alexia's thoughts were clouded with the dilemma on whether to approach Y/N or not, finding it a great opportunity to see where they currently stood with one another.

She knew there was a chance it could lead to an awkward encounter again, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she at least needed to try. However, another part of her held back, afraid of rejection.

Taking a deep breath, she moved her feet towards the striker. ''Sorry, just one minute.'' Alexia excused herself from their small huddle, biting the bullet.

Lucy, before anyone else, noticed where she was headed. ''Ale, I wouldn't do that- oh, she can't hear me, anyway.'' The defender brushed her own warning off, realizing it had no use as the skipper was already too far.

''Why shouldn't she talk to her?'' Laia inquired, confused about Lucy's attempt to stop her friend.

''Y/N has this thing where she likes to be on her own while doing the pitch inspections, I don't know where it came from, but she doesn't like to be bothered.'' The Brit explained to them.

The trio, lacking any subtlety, stared as Alexia walked to the sidelines, the unaware England captain clearly her target. ''For an introvert she sure likes to put herself in uncomfortable situations.'' Jenni bluntly remarked, soliciting chuckles from Laia and Lucy.

''Nah, she'll be fine.'' The Spanish defender said, choosing to be optimistic about it.

On the other side of the pitch, Alexia was feeling anything but fine as she got closer to Y/N with each step she took. She'd faintly heard Lucy calling out for her, but she'd pressed on, determined to make this work.

''Hey,'' Alexia greeted Y/N, her voice coming out smaller than she would have wanted.

The striker turned to her, caught by surprise at her sudden appearance. ''Oh, hey.'' She replied, her tone cautious yet not unfriendly.

''How are you?'' The midfielder asked, internally cursing at herself for startling her.

Y/N nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. ''Good, how are you?''

''Me too, thanks,'' Alexia's voice was steadier now, feeling the tension slightly dissipate between them, ''I'm excited for tonight.''

The younger woman nodded in understanding, her expression softening. ''Same, will be tough.''

There was a moment of awkward silence, neither quite sure how to proceed further. Y/N expectantly looked at Alexia, wishing for the midfielder to either extend the conversation or go back to her original conversation on the other side of the field.

''Uh, that was a nice goal against Australia, by the way. Really good.'' Alexia quickly offered, breaking the silence.

Y/n chuckled at the mention of her goal, her eyes twinkling. ''Thank you,'' she said, ''it's great to see you back with Spain.'' The sincerity was evident in her voice, almost catching the Spanish skipper off guard.

''Thank you, it's nice to be here with the team.''

''How's your knee doing?'' Y/N briefly glanced down to her competitor's leg, curious about the status.

Alexia hesitantly nodded. ''A lot better. Not a total 100%, but the recovery is going well.''

''That's great, I'm happy for you.''

The Spaniard smiled, a warm feeling embracing her. ''Thank you.''

A silence fell over them again, though it might have been the least awkward one so far out of all the interactions they've had.

''Uh, I have to get back to my, uh, thing,'' Y/N held up her earphones that were connected to her phone, ''but, uh, good luck tonight.''

''Yeah, sorry, uh, you too.'' Alexia stumbled, nervously taking a step back and giving the Brit an uneasy smile.

Y/N gave her a quick nod before turning away, slipping her earphones back in and walking on the sidelines of the pitch. She was the only person on the pitch who was actually taking the inspection in ''pitch inspection'' seriously as she observed the grass while strolling around the stadium.

Alexia stood there for a moment, watching her go, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. She felt a strange sense of satisfaction mixed with a twinge of something she couldn't quite place. Shaking her head, she turned and headed back to her teammates.

Lucy raised an eyebrow as her club captain rejoined the group. ''You seemed to get more out of her than I usually do.''

Alexia shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. ''Just catching up.''

''Catching up… nice.'' Jenni recited her words, a skeptical look in her eyes.

''Yes, very nice,'' the Barcelona captain dropped her smile, ''anyway- where were we?''

So the winner takes it all, the loser has to fall

It's simple and it's plain, why should I complain?

The stadium was alive with cheers and celebrations, but for Y/N, the echoes of disappointment drowned out the jubilant sounds. She stood on the pitch, staring blankly at the sea of happy faces, her mind replaying the moments that led to England's defeat against the Spanish.

In the midst of the celebrations for the opposing team, Y/N's gaze lingered on the blue jerseys scattered around the pitch, a lot of them on the ground now.

Her feet were nailed to the ground, unable to move herself towards her team and help them up like the leader she is.

However, she could do nothing but stare at their agony.

She failed.

She had fucking failed.

There had been many opportunities for her to equalize the score, yet she hadn't been clinical enough. Shots that usually would find the back of the net, went wide or were blocked by a defender or by Coll.

A few minutes passed as she finally managed to force herself towards the other players, almost walking in shame to her teammates.

Ella and Alessia were the first two she encountered, both girls with tears in their eyes, a drastic contrast to their usual demeanor.

''Come here, my girls.'' Y/N motioned for them to walk into her arms, which they immediately did, seeking comfort in their captain.

Their heads rested on either sides of her shoulders, both sniffling in her neck as she felt their tears staining her kit. She caressed their backs, while observing how their other teammates were being consoled.

Y/N was the one to pull away first, silently signaling she would go up to the remaining members of their squad.

She passed Lucy, who was embraced by Mariona. The striker briefly ruffled the defender's head, while muttering a congratulations to the Barcelona player.

A bit further down the pitch, she saw Mary being helped up by a bunch of teammates, the Manchester United goalkeeper in complete despair.

But before she could take another step, a hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her in her tracks.

''Hey, Y/N.''

Sarina appeared in front of her, her expression somber yet supportive.

She gave the coach a sad smile as the Dutchwoman wrapped her arms around her player. ''You did very well.''

''I'm sorry.'' Y/N whispered back, the disappointment audible.

''Don't apologize, I'm very proud of you,'' the older woman reassured, giving her a gentle squeeze.

The coach pulled her back, her hands resting on her shoulders. ''You can let go, you know? The match is done, don't keep everything inside.'' Sarina softly mumbled, lightly concerned over the captain's stoic face and the visible tremor in her hands.

Y/N simply nodded, not saying anything further. Despite the encouragement, she remained outwardly composed. Though, Sarina could see the raw emotion simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment.

With a final squeeze of her shoulder, Sarina offered one last glimmer of solace before reluctantly stepping back, leaving the captain to herself.

Y/N's original destination had been Mary, though by the time her conversation with her coach had finished, the goalkeeper was nowhere in sight.

''Good match, you still give me trouble after all these years.'' Irene interjected her thoughts, her stuck-out hand appearing before her.

The Brit chuckled at her words, shaking her hand. ''Thanks, and congrats. You've had a good tournament.''

''Thank you, Y/L. You too.''

They shared a quick hug before going their own ways again, the respect from their Lyon-PSG days never having withered away.

As she traversed the pitch, she encountered various teammates, each bearing the weight of defeat in their own way. With a comforting touch on the shoulder, a shared look of understanding or a warm embrace, she conveyed her support without needing to utter a single word.

Among the Spanish players, there were nods of acknowledgment and brief exchanges of congratulations.

While she wasn't particularly close with any of them compared to her teammates, her facial expression and overall posture didn't invite further interaction. She managed to convey her respect and acknowledgment of their achievement without seeking deeper engagement.

She also made her way to the three officials in the center of the pitch, extending her hand towards them.

Meanwhile, the other captain on the pitch observed her from afar, her eyes tracing the familiar figure moving through the post-match formalities.

Alexia made note of the way Y/N's shoulders were tense, and how her movements were almost robotic.

As she further analyzed her, a strange and unfamiliar feeling settled inside her. It was a sensation she couldn't quite put into words, a mixture of empathy, sadness, and a strange sense of connection.

She had never experienced such intense empathy for an opponent, especially not in the aftermath of a major final victory. Typically, her focus would be on celebrating with her teammates and reveling in the joy of winning. But now, she found herself feeling more sorrow for Y/N's defeat than happiness for her own success.

Memories of the previous year's Champions League final flooded Alexia's mind, where she had been in her position, grappling with the crushing weight of failure as the leader of her team. She saw a reflection of herself in the English striker, recognizing the familiar struggle of trying to mask one's emotions in the aftermath of defeat.

Recalling the moment when Y/N had offered her comfort and admiration after that match, Alexia felt a sudden urge to reciprocate. The Brit's words had given her a lot of strength when she lost, and now, she wanted to do the same. With the image of Y/N's arm wrapped around her from the previous year firmly etched in her mind, Alexia took a deep breath and approached the England captain. Each step felt weighted with uncertainty, yet she was driven by an inexplicable urge to offer her support.

With the image of Y/N's arm wrapped around her from the previous year firmly etched in her mind, Alexia took a deep breath and approached the England captain. Each step felt weighted with uncertainty, yet she was driven by an inexplicable urge to offer her support.

Alexia's expression softened with sympathy and understanding as she made it to the center of the field. ''Y/N,'' she said gently, her arm instinctively reaching out to wrap around the Brit's shoulders, ''I know it's not the result you wanted, but you should be incredibly proud of yourself. You were one of the best this World Cup.''

Y/N managed a tight-lipped smile, though her eyes betrayed the lingering disappointment. ''Thanks,'' she replied, her tone tinged with bitterness, ''it's good to see you back on the field. Even if it's only for 10 minutes.''

The Spaniard chose to ignore the passive-aggressive comment, recognizing it as a product of frustration rather than genuine malice. ''Thank you,'' she replied calmly, ''it was a great battle today.''

The England captain gave a curt nod, subtly attempting to shrug off Alexia's comforting embrace. But the Catalan held tight, refusing to let her go.

''Seriously, Y/N, you were amazing these few weeks,'' Alexia persisted, her voice gentle yet firm, ''you led your team to this moment.'' She attempted again to console her rival, or former rival… friend? It wasn't clear. It had never been clear.

''I appreciate it,'' Y/N responded, her tone softening slightly, ''you guys worked hard, considering the circumstances. Congrats, enjoy it.''

With a gentle yet deliberate movement, Y/N extricated herself from the embrace, offering a half-hearted smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was acutely aware of the cameras capturing every moment of their interaction, and the potential backlash she might face for her indifference. But in that moment, consumed by the sting of defeat, she couldn't bring herself to care one bit.

Alexia watched her for a few seconds, feeling something that felt equivalent to a slap in the face. She perfectly understood Y/N's pain, and could imagine what the England captain was thinking in her head. But she'd only meant well by her words, and affection.

She didn't stare too long at her departing figure, knowing how miserable it might look to other people. The midfielder resumed her small tour of shaking hands with all the opponents, while also congratulating her own teammates.

It irritated her how effortlessly the striker's indifference had dampened her spirits. Alexia couldn't help but feel a twinge of bitterness, resentful of the power Y/N seemed to hold over the Spanish captain's emotions without even remotely trying.

Why is she allowing it to sour her mood?

''Y/N.'' She heard her name being called somewhere in the dressing room, turning around without knowing who to even look for.

Keira appeared in front of her, already showered and changed into something clean. ''Hey, don't feel obligated to do this, but I kinda need a favor from you…'' The Barcelona midfielder looked a bit flushed speaking to the captain.

Y/N slowly nodded, not sure where this was heading.

''Uh, Aitana- you know Aitana, right?'' She quickly asked, suddenly feeling insecure about the player's knowledge of her teammate.

The captain snorted, finding the question a bit ridiculous considering they just played a final against her. ''Yeah, I know her.''

Keira nodded, cringing at herself for even asking. ''Right, so you're kind of like, one of her idols, and she would really love for you two to swap kits.''

Y/N softly smiled at the sweet gesture, while also feeling immensely honored by the fact that Aitana considers her somewhat of a role model. ''Uh, yeah, that's fine. Do you know where she is?''

''She's standing outside the dressing room right now.'' Keira sheepishly grinned.

''Of course she is,'' the older player sighed with affection, ''uh, I'm gonna shower first, and then I'll go outside, okay? I want to wash this entire day away.'' She grimaced.

''Alright, I'll tell her,'' Keira said before briefly stopping the striker from walking to the shower area, ''thank you.'' She sincerely said, her eyes filled with gratitude.

''Ah, don't mention it.'' Y/N brushed it off, squeezing the midfielder's arm.

It took her about 20 minutes to actually make it outside the changing room. Had she wasted time on purpose to keep the person who had just robbed her of a World Cup title waiting for her? No one could tell.

''Hey, congrats again.'' Y/N greeted the Spaniard, who looked incredibly nervous.

Aitana smiled brightly, carefully holding her own shirt in her hands. ''Thank you. Congrats on your tournament, you played great the entire time.''

''Thanks. Here you go.'' The England captain handed her shirt over, the Barcelona player doing the same.

''Gracias,'' Aitana thanked her, looking like a kid at Christmas, ''you've been my idol for a long time, and it's amazing to play these kinds of matches against you. You're an amazing player.'' She continued her complimenting, not able to stop herself from praising her.

Y/N awkwardly accepted her words, she'd never been the best at accepting such loving compliments, especially when they came from fellow players. ''That means a lot, thank you. But you're like the best player in the world right now, I'm much more honored, believe me,'' Y/N chuckled, making Aitana blush, ''also congrats on the Champions League, you were seriously one of the best players the entire tournament, and also in the Spanish League. I've been a big fan of you since Budapest.''

Aitana looked overwhelmed to say the least. The Champions League final in Budapest had taken place in 2019, meaning the Lyon striker had been a fan of hers for over 4 years.

''No, thank you so much, but you're the best, always.'' The Spaniard brushed it off, genuinely not believing there was a better player than Y/N in women's football.

The Brit grinned at the reply. ''Well, I can't wait to see you lift the Ballon d'Or this year.'' She winked.

''I- I don't know about that.'' Aitana stammered, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Y/N laughed softly, a warmth in her face that made the midfielder flustered. ''Trust me, you should pick out an outfit already,'' she teased, ''but, seriously, keep doing what you're doing right now, players like you are really rare, and all of us are so blessed to watch you play right now.'' She encouraged, her tone genuine.

''Thank you, that is very kind.'' Aitana responded, her voice barely above a whisper. She was still in disbelief that this conversation was actually taking place.

''You're very welcome.''

''Did you get it?'' Ona asked Aitana as soon as the midfielder entered the dressing room.

The Catalan held up the shirt to her friend, proudly showing off the emblazoned ''Y/L'' on the back of it. ''I had to wait 20 minutes.'' She sighed, sitting down in her cubby.

''She probably made you wait on purpose.'' Mariona remarked, taking a sip of her water.

''No, she was very kind.'' Aitana brushed the comment off with a shake of her head. The Barcelona star neatly folded the jersey on her lap, delicately brushing away the remaining stains of grass and dirt.

''Ale, you're not listening to me.'' Jenni nudged the captain, an offended look on her face as her friend didn't seem to be paying much attention to her rambling.

''Huh, what?'' Alexia stuttered, caught off guard, looking to her side.

A playful eye roll accompanied a light slap on the arm. ''Am I boring you?''

''No, no, please continue,'' the captain insisted, realizing she had drifted off again. She forced herself to listen attentively, though her mind kept drifting back to the jersey exchange between Aitana and Y/N.

''Okay, what is it? You're clearly not focused on me right now.'' The midfielder sighed, observing her friend's distracted gaze.

Shaking her head, Alexia tried to dismiss her thoughts. ''No, continue, I'm sorry- nothing on my mind.''

Jenni's eyes followed the captain's gaze to the blue England jersey on Aitana's lap. She looked back at her teammate, noticing her fixated expression. ''You're not telling me that even a damn shirt with her name on it bothers you.''

''What do you mean?'' Alexia asked, embarrassed as she was called out.

Jenni's eyes shot up in judgment. ''I get that the comparisons weren't nice while they were happening, but letting her bother you this much is crazy, Ale.''

''She doesn't bother me.'' Alexia retorted immediately.

A snicker followed. ''Yeah, and I'm Jesus.'' She responded, sarcastically.

''Just forget about it.'' Alexia started, but Jenni interjected.

''Hey, I'm sorry, okay? You don't want to talk about it?'' The Spaniard apologized, realizing her friend wasn't enjoying the teasing.

''No, I do. Just… not here, I don't need the whole room to know about it.'' Alexia whispered, eyes darting around.

Jenni nodded, sending her friend's discomfort with the others. ''Alright, should we go to the bathroom?'' She suggested, trying to make it seem as subtle as possible.

The captain nodded, a grateful look in her eyes. ''Yeah,'' she smiled, ''thanks.'' She softly muttered as they made their way outside.

As they stepped into the quiet solitude of the bathroom, Alexia let out a sigh of relief, feeling grateful for Jenni's understanding. Leaning against the sink, she ran a hand through her hair, trying to collect her thoughts.

Jenni stood beside her, offering a reassuring smile. ''You okay?''

The Ballon d'Or winner hesitated for a moment before responding. ''Yeah, just… and this is gonna sound stupid, but the shirt does make me upset.''

The Tigres player slowly nodded, trying to understand her point. ''Okay… and do you know why?''

She remained silent for a few moments, almost too full of shame over the answer- the true answer to that question. ''I think- you know, we've never exchanged shirts… and she does it with so many other people on our team.''

Jenni reached out, gently squeezing her friend's shoulder. ''It's not just the shirt, is it?''

She knew her friend too well to think this was all about a stupid football jersey- there was more, and Jenni wanted to know what that entailed.

Alexia remained quiet, glancing down at the floor.

''Ale, I'm not dumb. I see what she does to you.''

''She doesn't do anything-''

''Shut up,'' Jenni shook her head, cutting her off, ''I want to listen to you, and help you, but you have to start being honest to yourself, Putellas.''

Alexia's facade crumbled under Jenni's persistent gaze, her defenses weakening with each passing moment. She let out a resigned sigh, knowing she couldn't hide from the truth any longer.

"She… she is so freaking annoying. You have no idea, Jenni. She makes my blood boil. Every single time we're on the pitch together, it's like she knows exactly how to get under my skin. It's the way she plays, the way she talks, the way she looks at me like she's already won. And I know it's all part of the game, but fuck, it's so fucking annoying,"

Jenni leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, and nodded for her to continue.

''But then, the match is over, and all I want is for her to come up to me and ask me for a freaking shirt swap. It's so ridiculous, I know. But it's always someone else that she goes to. First it was Patri, in Turin. Then, at the friendly last year, I thought she was going to ask me, but no, she asked me to give my jersey to a fucking teammate of hers. And now Aitana has one as well? It's so fucking stupid. She can exchange with Aitana, but not with me?''

Alexia's frustration was palpable as she continued to vent. "And the worst part is, I don't even know where we fucking stand with each other. Like, in Turin, she was so nice and she comforted me when the match was done, and she was, yeah, just so nice. But today, it was like she wanted nothing to do with me, and I get it, it's a big final to lose, but still! I can't stand it. I want to be mad at her, but she makes it impossible.''

Jenni watched her with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "Ale, maybe she doesn't realize how much it bothers you."

Alexia threw her hands up, a bitter laugh escaping. ''She knows exactly what she's doing. She does this on purpose, it's like she gets some kind of twisted pleasure out of it.''

Her friend raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. ''Or maybe she doesn't know either. You're giving her too much power, Ale.''

The captain shook her head. ''It doesn't feel like that.''

''What does it feel like?'' Jenni asked.

''Like she's playing mind games with me.''

Jenni remained silent, having Alexia almost hanging her head in shame. ''It's fucking stupid.'' She cursed under her breath.

The older woman placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. ''First off, it's not stupid, your feelings are valid,'' Jenni reassured her, ''and secondly… I have never seen you like this, and it kind of worries me, Ale.''

Alexia let out a heavy sigh. ''Sorry, you don't need to worry. I just- I don't know what to think anymore. I feel like an idiot for caring this much about a shirt.''

''You're not an idiot,'' Jenni denied with a smile, ''you want her to acknowledge you. It's not a crime, she's a great player, it's normal.''

Her younger teammate nodded, though not convinced.

Jenni sighed, stepping closer to her friend. ''Why don't you take the first step? Ask her for a swap yourself.''

''Ask her myself?'' Alexia laughed mockingly.

''What's the worst that can happen? She says no? At least you'd have your answer.'' She pointed out.

''I don't think I can…'' Alexia muttered in response, looking down at the bathroom floor.

''Why not?'' Jenni pressed gently.

Alexia hesitated, her words coming out in a rush. ''Wha- what if she, you know, enjoys that I want her- her shirt,'' she quickly corrected herself, ''I honestly think she would enjoy rejecting me.''

''Ale,'' Jenni broke the silence in the room, ''do you… do you like her?''

Alexia's eyes shot to Jenni's before darting away again. ''What?'' She stammered, caught off guard by the question.

''I know how you act when you like someone,'' Jenni raised an eyebrow.

She adamantly shook her head in response. ''No. What the hell.''

Jenni held up her hands, a faint smile playing on her lips.. ''Hey, I wouldn't judge you. She's good-looking, she plays amazing football, has a nice accent.''

''No, I don't like her.'' She insisted, though her conviction sounded shaky, even to her own ears.

The older midfielder snickered at the weak reply, her amusement evident.

''Jenni, I don't like her. That's insane.'' Alexia continued protesting.

''Ale, you're kinda obsessed with her.'' Her friend pointed out.

'' I am not obsessed wi-''

''How many hours of footage have you dedicated to studying her before every match you play against her?'' Jenni interrupted her, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Alexia rolled her eyes, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, but she stayed silent.

''See. Absolutely obsessed. You probably know her stats better than she does.'' Her fellow midfielder continued, her teasing tone relentless.

''I am not crazy. I'm just strategically analyzing the opponent.'' Alexia defended herself, though her words faltered slightly.

Jenni raised an eyebrow. ''You know there are 10 other players on the pitch, right?''

Alexia huffed in exasperation. ''Oh, come on. There is nothing to like about her.'' She reacted defensively.

Jenni smirked at her words. ''Not her good looks, her intelligence, her advocacy, her football skills, her sexy accent, her knowing all those different languages, her-''

''Shut up.'' Alexia interjected Jenni's teasing, her cheeks completely burned up.

Jenni chuckled, knowing she had hit a nerve. ''Okay, okay, I'll stop. You're obviously still in the denial stage.''

Alexia huffed loudly. ''You're delusional.''

''Yeah,'' the older woman sarcastically said, ''after we've had this whole conversation, I am the delusional one, Ale.'' Jenni rolled her eyes.

The Barcelona captain crossed her arms, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks again. "You're making this much bigger than it actually is.''

"Because it is a big deal," Jenni immediately retorted, ''you're clearly affected by this, and this goes way beyond whatever rivalry you two have going on.''

Alexia sighed, realizing her mask was slipping and her friend had her completely figured out.

Jenni silently stared at her friend for a few moments, wondering how long these thoughts had been brewing inside her mind. She pulled the younger woman into an embrace, gently caressing her back.

''It's okay to have these feelings, Ale. It really is. But don't bottle them up the way you have been doing, don't ignore them. That's not healthy.''

Alexia let her head rest on Jenni's shoulder, the truth of her words sinking in. ''I just hate feeling like this,'' she admitted, ''I don't even know what I want from her.''

Jenni nodded sympathetically, continuing her caressing. ''I understand that,'' she kissed the side of her head, ''I don't know when you'll see her again, but maybe, like, ask her for a shirt swap yourself? I know you think it's stupid, but you'll get a better understanding of where you stand with her.''

Alexia shook her head. "I don't know if I can do that."

''You can,'' her teammate assured her, ''I really believe you've got it all wrong. I think she'd happily exchange kits with you.''

''Maybe… yeah, maybe you're right.'' She mumbled in response.

Jenni pulled her back, not looking into her eyes. ''Just try, please. And if she doesn't want to? Guess what? There are thousands of other people who would gladly receive your shirt.''

Her friend's encouragement caused a smile to finally appear on Alexia's face, something Jenni was happy to see. ''Thanks, I really appreciate it.''

"Anytime," Jenni replied, giving her a supportive pat on the back, ''now let's get out of here, and fucking celebrate, alright?''

Alexia nodded, feeling much lighter than when they'd first walked into the bathroom. ''Yeah, let's go.''

''Let's go, chica!''

suggestions/ideas/opinions for or about the series are always welcome in my inbox!

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso fic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fic #engwnt x reader #aitana bonmati x reader

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spencerlicious · 4 months

Note

could i request emily x polyglot!reader? someone finds out r can speak multiple languages, so naturally derek challenges her and em to see who can speak the most languages

so emily and r get into a language competition (?) and the 2 make a bet of whoever wins, gets a special prize from the loser *wink wonk* pls? it starts with innocent foreign banyer then ends up gettin dirtier if that makes sense? top!em pls 😊

thank u for reading, if ur not comfortable its all good! :D

hi anon!! thank you for the request <3 this is a super good idea, i was very excited to write it. it kind of morphed from your request a bit, but the main idea is still there. i do want to specify that i am by no means fluent or even proficient in any of the languages used in this fic (besides english 😭) because let’s be real— 4 years of spanish did *not* stick with me, so i used quite a bit of google translate. you might want to keep it handy too! i hope you enjoy :)

p.s. this is my first fic in a very very long time, please be kind <3

love language

emily prentiss x fem!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings: smut, cursing, oral (r receiving), fingering, dom!emily, i think that’s it?

w.c.: 1.3k

It was a long day for the members of the BAU. Back-to-back-to-back cases on short amounts of sleep were starting to wear on the team, and it didn’t help that the current case was stumping them.

“Oh, look at this, guys,” Morgan says, showing a picture from the newest crime scene. “Looks like there’s some writing in another language.”

You drop your head into your hands, taking a deep breath as you try to reset yourself and focus on the case.

“Looks like French, where’s Emily?” JJ asks.

You study the picture for a second before speaking up. “Dire la vérité— tell the truth.”

Morgan’s eyes cut to you. “Y/N, you speak French? And really, where is Prentiss?”

You’re about to respond as the door opens and Emily walks in from the bathroom. “Emily, did you know Y/N speaks French?”

Her face is surprised. “Huh. I didn’t. What else are you keeping from us?” She jokes.

Your eyebrows raise and you smile. “I speak a little bit more than French,” you say, not wanting to brag.

“What other languages do you speak?” Reid asks curiously.

“Well, French, and also Spanish, German, and Italian. Mostly Romance languages,” you say.

“Here’s a challenge,” Derek says. “Which one of you can speak in a different language for the longest?”

“¿Cómo no sabía que eras políglota?” Emily asks, effectively starting the competition.

“Nunca surgió en la conversación,” you respond plainly.

She laughs. “¡Podríamos haber estado teniendo conversaciones secretas todo este tiempo!”

“¿Qué tipo de conversaciones secretas te gustaría tener, Prentiss?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

She blushes slightly, flustered. She switches to French, trying to keep you on your toes. “Eh bien, je ne sais pas. Des trucs qu'on ne veut pas que Morgan écoute.” Her eyes flit to Morgan’s as she mentions him and he looks confused.

“What are the two of you talking about? And what are you saying about me?” He asks, looking between you and Emily.

You let out a small chuckle. “Tu ne veux juste pas que Derek m'entende te traiter de jolie et qu'il devienne jaloux, hmm?”

“This is all well and good, but shouldn’t we be getting back to the case?” Reid interjects.

“Yes, definitely,” you say, straightening your hair and pulling yourself back into focus mode.

After some more discussion on the use of a foreign language at the crime scene, the team decides to break for lunch. You take a quick trip to the bathroom and end up washing your hands at the same time as Emily.

“So, what was that?” She asks.

You’re caught off guard. “What was what?”

“You think I’m pretty,” she replies. “You told me I’m pretty in French. What was that about?”

You stammer a bit. “Well, I do think you’re pretty, Emily. I think you’re beautiful,” you admit.

“It’s interesting,” she says, stepping closer to you and placing a hand on your waist. “You speak three romance languages, and while it’s not the same meaning, you picked the most romantic language to compliment me in. Even if I couldn’t tell from the long glances and the way your heart is pounding right now, that alone would’ve told me what I’m pretty sure I know,” she finishes, looking you dead in the eyes.

Her hand is heavy on your waist and your mind is racing. “And what do you know?”

Emily’s other hand trails from your shoulder to your jaw and pulls your chin up so you’re forced to look in her eyes. “You have feelings for me,” she states.

You hold her gaze for a second. “I hate profilers.” There’s a noticeable tension between the two of you before Emily smirks at you. You feel yourself inching closer to her and then you’re pressing your lips to hers. She reciprocates the kiss without hesitation, and you feel her hands pull you in by your hips.

The kiss gets broken and Emily rests her forehead on yours as you catch your breath. Your eyes meet and you share a smile. “Embrasse-moi encore, s'il te plaît,” you say softly.

“Oui chérie,” she replies, already leaning into kiss you again. Her lips meet yours in a passionate kiss and she pushes you up against the door of the bathroom. She flips the lock of the door. Emily doesn’t want anyone interrupting.

Emily’s breath was warm against your neck as she kissed the tender skin. Pulling the collar of your shirt aside, she sucks a deep purple mark into your collar bone, drawing soft whines from you. “Shhh baby, don’t want the others to hear you, right?” She says, kissing the skin she marked soothingly.

She switches languages again and whispers in your ear. “¿Que quieres, hermosa?”

You meet her eyes and can feel the lust practically radiating off of Emily. “Want you to touch me,” you respond.

Within seconds, she’s on the floor in front of you, unzipping your slacks. Her fingers trace you through your panties. “You’re soaked, baby,” she says.

“For you,” you say, bracing your hands on the wall behind you as she teases you.

Emily pulls your panties down and rests your leg on her shoulder as her fingers find your clit. It’s almost electric, the way she rubs tight circles into the bundle of nerves. “Emily,” you moan out her name.

Her ministrations stop, causing you to whine out again at the loss of contact. “What did I tell you? Not a sound, or I’ll stop completely.”

You nod, covering your mouth with one hand as Emily runs her tongue through your wet cunt. She groans at the taste. “You’re fucking delicious,” she says, voice deep and dripping with arousal. It’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as her lips close around your clit, teeth gently scraping, making your legs tremble.

Your hands find a home tangled in Emily’s hair as you hold her face close. Her tongue slides back from your clit to your entrance. Your teeth clamp down against your lower lip as Emily’s tongue plunges inside of you. Her face is wet with your slick as she tongue fucks you, the sight alone bringing you close to the edge.

Emily then licks back through your cunt, sucking on your clit as she pushes a finger inside of you. Clouded in pleasure, you can’t focus on anything except the need to cum as she adds another finger and your walls are clenching around her. “Squeezing me so good baby, you want to cum?” she asks.

Your head nods frantically. “Yes— please, wanna cum,” you say breathily.

Emily curls her fingers up to press against that spongy spot inside of you. “Cum for me,” she commands, returning to suck at your clit as she hits your G-spot over and over again.

Your body shakes as she sends you over the edge of your orgasm. Her name is falling from your lips in a quiet whisper as you soak her fingers and face.

“You did so good for me,” she says, standing up and kissing your temple.

Catching your breath feels difficult, but you begin to fix your clothes and look presentable.

“Это было так хорошо, озорная девчонка,” Emily says, fixing her lipstick in the bathroom mirror.

“You may have just rocked my world, Prentiss, but I did not gain the ability to speak Russian,” you laugh.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, which starts you both up laughing, when a knock sounds from the door. You freeze, flushing in embarrassment.

Emily unlocks the bathroom door, opens it, and finds an impatient JJ awaiting you. “What are the two of you doing? We have an unsub to catch,” she says, turning around and heading back to the rest of the team.

Emily throws you a wink and follows after JJ.

You’re pretty positive this isn’t going to be a one-time thing.

#emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss cm #emily prentiss criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut

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chunniwritesalot · 1 month

Text

mrs. alonso - fa14 smau - part 2

i jut cant help myself chat

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 a

cw: nothing really! none of the photos used except the one below this is mine! all of them are from pinterest

fernando and y/n have been married for 18 years now, but their love has been the same since they met 26 years ago.

information: spanish speaking! reader, fem! reader, you have 2 daughters- one is 18 and one is 5. you and claire ann stroll are best friends! this is really just how i see old people using social medias 😭

Francesca or Fran is your OLDER daughter and Rubi is your YOUNGER daughter.

(in the tweets it was y/o/d which stood for your older daughter but i ultimately decided to name the kids just so it was a little easier for me! i don’t feel like changing the tweets so…)

-start-

---

"mama!" fran called out as she walked downstairs into the kitchen. rubi was doing her homework at the counter as fernando and y/n cooked dinner- some seafood dish that smelled absolutely amazing. fran plopped herself down on the seat next to her younger sister and watched her parents. fernando turned to her from the stove and raised an eyebrow, "hm mami?" he asked her. the oldest daughter rolled her eyes, "papa, i wasn't talking to you" she sighed, fernando grinned, shaking his head, "mama and i are basically the same" he chimed, turning back to the stove, y/n chuckled and turned to fran "yes, mija?" she asked, smiling at her eldest, she was such an angel. fran pulled out her phone and showed her mother the tweet. y/n frowned, "no posts from mrs. alonso?" she read out, raising her eyebrow, "posts from what? why are they getting weaker? do you know this person?"

francesca sighed, "mama they want you to post on your instagram, thats what they mean."

y/n's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, "hmph, i didn't know people were waiting on me to post... fernando, did you know this?" fernando frowned himself, turning away from the stove once again, "no i didn't know this fact." he too, leaning forward to read the tweet on fran’s phone. he shrugged, "tal vez sea una señal (maybe its a sign)"

---

y/nalonso has posted!

liked by franalo14, landonorris, lance_stroll, fernandoalo_offical, claireannstroll, and 506,980 others

y/nalonso Mi post en Instagram...😘😮

(translation: My post on Instagram)

tagged: @/franalo14 @/fernandoalo_official @/chloestroll @/lance_stroll @/claireannstroll @/lewishamilton @/logansargeant

view comments...

franalo14 everyone thank me!

user1 thank you fran user2 thank you fran user3 thank you fran user4 thank you fran user6, user6, user7, and 580 others have responded...

lance_stroll I MADE IT INTO THE FAMILY POSTS 🤩😍

y/nalonso Hello mijo, please come over...Rubi misses you...thank you...🙃🙃 lance_stroll sounds good...😨 user8 HELP SAVE LANCE NOW.

lewishamilton Thanks for the dinner invite! Amazing food 🙌🙌

fernandoalo_official Thank you Lewis😛 lewishamilton I wasn't talking to you 😅 fernandoalo_official Oh.......😫😥

claireannstroll Amazing photos sister...😘🥰 Come over tomorrow for lunch👯‍♀️👩‍🍳

y/nalonso Sounds like a plan, I will bring some wine Fernando got from Italy...May need to stay over! Can not drive drunk😂😂😂🍷😵 claireannstroll L.O.L!! Sounds risky...😎😏😹 user9 oh to be invited to the stroll alonso hangouts franalo14 @/user9, trust me you do not want to be invited.

fernandoalo_official So hot😫😍

fernandoalo_official No puedo dejar de pensar en ti...😏😲 (translation: I can't stop thinking about you)

fernandoalo_official Eres el postre perfecto para una cena romántica 😍😋 (translation: You’re the perfect dessert for a romantic dinner) <thank you to the anon that helped me translate this 💗> user10 why is nando replying to himself this cannot be real

y/nalonso Thank you husband😏🤪🥺

user11 MRS. ALONSO YOU HAVE TO REPLY TO THE COMMENT 😭 y/nalonso Oh...please do not cry at my mistake...I am very sorry😯😓💗 user11 @/y/nalonso wait mother im sorry 💔 user12 @/user11 shes a little confused but she got the spirit

chloestroll such a fun beach trip with you, aunt y/n! can't wait to see you again soon 💕💕

y/nalonso You must come soon...😉

user13 mother has blessed us again!

oscarpiastri mom said thanks for the recipe mrs. alonso

y/nalonso Please tell Nicole to come over again...Oscar... oscarpiastri 😦

logansargeant thank you for inviting riley and i for dinner 😁

y/nalonso Please come again soon, mijo... food will be hard to come by when you are unemployed logansargeant oh... 😨 riley_whittal HELP? user14 SHE VIOLATED LOGAN LIKE IT WAS NOTHING

carlossainz55 ¡Qué bueno verte! (great seeing you!)

fernandoalo_official ¿Cómo te sientes? (how do you feel) carlossainz55 He arruinado mi vida. (i have ruined my life) fernandoalo_official 😬😬

maxverstappen1 P wants to see Rubi again!

y/nalonso Let us arrange a playdate. Rubi likes playing the Dressing game on Robux🎮🎮with P🫛I am in 🇲🇨on the 13-20th.Please text my number Max…

maxverstappen1 Yeah… sounds good 🤨😂

-fin-

my requests are open! if you want to see something special done w this series dont be afraid to ask :)

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dearhargrove · 6 months

Text

People leave

Eddie Diaz x reader

summary A few weeks after first meeting Eddie and Christopher things with you and Eddie start getting serious. However when Christopher realizes, he doesn't react the way you'd expected.

word count 1200

tags hurt/comfort, Chris being adorable, angsty but turns to fluff

a/n yall know how in episode 8 season 4 Eddie tells Chris he's seeing someone and Chris gets rlly mad and runs away to Buck (adorable btw)? When he explained that he's scared that people he cares about leave I realized this could be a good continuation to this! It's gonna have a happy ending and fluff don't worry 🫶🏻

part one

masterlist

Christopher is preparing salad with Eddie at his side while you supervise Liam as he slowly chops a cucumber. His tongue is peeking out in concentration as he holds the knife the way you'd shown him and slowly slices the cucumber.

When he's done you ruffle his hair and hold your hand up for a high-five which he eagerly gives. “You did great! When dinner is done well call you - go and play a little more with Chris?” He nods and hops off the chair (his feet couldn't reach the floor when he sat so he had to hop down a little- it makes you coo every time he does) before grabbing Chris by his arm and dragging him to the living room.

Eddie and you watch as they settle on the couch and pick their game of uno back up.

“They're adorable,” you smile and lean back against the counter, your arms crossed over your chest. Eddie hums and sneaks his right arm around your waist, looking down at you with a content grin.

You tilt your head at his look and turn around to finish up the salad, “What are you looking at, señor?”

In your peripheral you see both his eyebrows raise as he makes a ‘huh’ sound and shifts to lean against the counter with his hip. “You speaking Spanish now?”

That makes you laugh and you shake your head, “You'd like that, wouldn't you?” He raises his shoulders as if he didn't know but the smirk on his face tells you what you need to know.

You lean in as if you'd tell him a secret and rest your hand on his waist before basically whispering, “Go and set the table.”

He groans and gently pushes you away as if he was mad, “Yes, ma'am.” He bows exaggeratedly and you watch him with a deadpan look. He looks around the corner into the living room before quickly kissing your cheek and then your lips, squeezing your hip before letting go.

You grin and bite your lip as you watch him go to set the table, distantly hearing him ask the boys who's winning the game and starting a discussion about uno rules.

Later when dinner is ready and served Liam is telling Eddie about his day while Christopher sits next to you. He's pushing the food around on his plate with his fork and you discreetly nudge his elbow with a questioning look.

He doesn't just look up but full on glares at you, dropping his fork noisily. “I don't need your help.”

You flinch back in surprise and furrow your brows. Eddie is looking up now too, making you shrug in confusion.

“Christopher, talk nicely.” He says in his warning dad tone and you watch a little uncomfortably - did you cause this? What did you even do? “No!” Chris bangs his fist on the table and pushes the plate off the table and onto the floor, the loud noise making Liam shriek and look around with wide, scared eyes.

Before you can reach out Eddie shushes him and puts a hand on his back, allowing the eight year old to calm down a bit. Chris however is the opposite. This time he directs his words at you, “We don't need you! You will leave!”

Your eyes go wide and you send a panicked look to Eddie, who looks just as confused. “Chris, what's going on? You like her.” Instead of an explanation he slides off his chair and glares at you again, “You will leave.”

He then hurries to his room and slams the door behind him, causing the dam to break and Liam to star bawling in confusion at the confrontation.

There's an unspoken agreement between you and Eddie as you stand and pick Liam up, letting him cry into your shoulder as you stroke your palm over his back. “I'll see what's up with Christopher. I'm really sorry about what he said,” Eddie mumbles and kisses your temple, at the same time he brushes his hand through Liams hair once.

“I think you need to talk to him,” Eddie comes around the corner and looks at you and Liam settled on the couch with the latter fast asleep in your arms. “I don't really think he wants to see me, maybe we should just go home…” you sigh.

“That's exactly what he doesn't want.” Eddie starts and sits next to you, reaching out and taking your hand in his. “I've told you about Shannon... He's scared you'll leave too. He doesn't want to miss you and Liam.”

You frown, “Oh, no. I'll go and try to make him understand we're here to stay.” He nods gladly and kisses the back of your hand and letting you carefully place your son in his arms. Liam wakes up momentarily and when he recognizes Eddie he cuddles up into him and goes back to sleep.

You watch the two with a fond expression and inhale deeply before going to Christophers room and knocking twice.

There's no response so you slowly open the door. He's laying in his bed and when he sees you he frowns again, turning around too slow to hide the tear tracks and red eyes.

You sigh sadly, “May I sit here?” You pat the space on the bed next to his legs and see him shrug under the blankets.

“Listen, I understand you're scared of Liam and me leaving. A lot of people have left you. But, Chris, we're here to stay. I really, really like your dad and I really like you, too. Liam does too.”

It's visible that you're getting through to him when he slowly shifts onto his back and looks at you with a pout and a frown. “Promise?” You smile and nod.

“Pinky promise, even.” You take his hand and wrap your pinky around his.

He smile too now and yawns but surprises you once again tonight as he moves around until his head is laying on your thighs. “You want to go to sleep?” He nods and you pull the blanket up to his shoulders to wrap him in them entirely, carding your hand through his hair to calm him.

Ten minutes later and he's fast asleep, softly snoring as you look down at him. You hear the door creak and see Eddie come in, a relieved and fond expression on his face as he sees you two.

“I see you saved the day?” Rolling your eyes you flip him off and he laughs behind his hand. “Liam is asleep too. I pulled out the couch so he can sleep there without a problem.” he whispers.

“Thank you.” He waves it off and comes close enough to soothe his hands over your shoulders and kiss your head.

Happiness and love is the only thing you feel as you think about those three boys that posed utter chaos together but you loved nevertheless. It's a surprise to no one when you wake up to find Liam and Christopher snuggled in the latter's bed the next morning.

#eddie diaz fanfic #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz #Eddie Diaz 911 #ryan guzman #eddie diaz imagine #Ryan Guzman x reader #911 abc #911 fox #911 spoilers #911 fanfic #911 show #christopher diaz

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helen-with-an-a · 6 months

Text

The object that stood in the way of a World Cup

Hi. So this is going to be a 2 part (maybe 3 part) story that I've had floating in my head for a while now.

It's angsty - I do want it to end with a fluffy end, but it's getting a little too long to be 1 thing ahahaha. Anyways.

Ona Batlle x Reader

TW: Angst, no direct mention of bad mental health, but it's clear R ain't ok.

Word count: 3.3k

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Epilogue

Flashbacks are written in Italics; for anyone not aware of the British school system GCSEs you take at 16 (you have 3 or 4 choice subjects and 5 or 6 compulsory subjects) and A-levels you take at 18 (you choose 3 or 4 subjects)

Description: R sees Ona again for the first time since their breakup

This is what you had been waiting for. All summer. All year. Hell, probably all your life. The World Cup Final. And the thought absolutely terrified you.

Your first thought after the final whistle wasn’t one of joy or happiness. You weren’t elated like Lessi or Tooney who barrelled into you and squeezed you so tight it hurt. You weren’t jumping for joy like Gee, Kiera and Lucy who manhandled you into the middle of their huddle. You weren’t screaming so loud your voice went hoarse like Hempo and Es. You weren’t standing in disbelief like Mearps and Millie.

Your first thought was of your ex- girlfriend, friend-with-benefits, situationship, Ona. Your first thought was of Ona. Spain had won against Sweden yesterday. And now you had won against Australia. The last time you had seen her was not a fun experience for you. Screaming. Tears. Spiteful words she didn’t mean. But that was the last time you spoke to her. It had been a long 8 months without her.

You weren’t quite sure what you were to each other when you were both at United. You had met on her first day. You were meant to be her buddy. The management had asked around during pre-season if anyone spoke any Spanish. You had done it at A-level, so you stuck your hand up. Barcelona was The Dream for you, so you had tailored your studies at school as much as you could to help you achieve it – taking Spanish at GCSE and A-level and continuing to watch Spanish shows and reading books to help you maintain it. You weren’t fluent but you knew enough that it would help Ona feel more comfortable. And you clearly had.

After winning the first derby of the season, the team had gone for drinks. Alcohol flowed, inhibitions were lost, and boundaries were blurred as Ona ended up in your bed. You had thought it would be a one-time thing. A drunken mistake that wasn’t much of a mistake to you. And it was … until it wasn’t. The next time it happened was at your birthday. And then her birthday. And then the end of the season. And then alcohol wasn’t a factor in taking you both to bed. She was suddenly all around you. Her jumpers were in your wardrobe. Her football boots were by the door. Her stuff was in the shower. Her snacks were in the cupboard. You had never spoken about what you were, but you drove her to training, she cooked you her mother's dishes, you snuggled into her side when watch your show, she slept in your bed every night.

And then it all came crashing down.

November 2022

You knew you needed to tell her as soon as possible. You wanted to tell her the news that had you pouncing on her the moment she stepped through the door. You were happy and giddy and so, so excited. You hadn’t thought that she wouldn’t be all of those things for you. You had made no secret that Barcelona was your dream. Everyone know that if Barcelona came knocking you would be gone without a doubt in your mind. You had received a phone call from your manager that afternoon.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you free to talk? There’s an offer for you.” Paul said down the phone. He sounded composed but happy, it intrigued you.

“Yeh, I’m free. What’s the offer? It’s mid-season though and I’m out of contract in the summer, why are they wanting to talk now?” You were questioning but not closed off. You knew joining a team mid-season would be hard but not impossible.

“Well… it’s Barca. They’ve but in an offer for you.” You were in complete shock. Barca wanted you. You were going to play for Barcelona. That’s all you’ve ever wanted. You screamed. It was the only thing you could think of. “I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Paul laughed. He knew Barca was the dream. He’d already written up the acceptance email.

“Oh my god! Of course it’s a bloody yes. I’m gonna play for Barcelona” You shouted.

“They want you to sign on the first day of the January signing window. It’ll be announced just after El Clásico. Is that ok with you? It gives you a couple of months to get everything sorted. And since United haven’t played in the Champions League, you aren’t cup tied or anything.”

You were floating on a cloud of happiness when the door clicked open. Ona was back from having a ‘Spanish Day’ with all the Spaniards living in Manchester. She had barely made it into the living room when you jumped her. Lips trailing everywhere you could reach. She laughed that gorgeous sound as you shoved her gently to the bedroom, her coat slipping off as you went.

You lay with your head against the pillows, hair fanned out to the side. You were sweaty and out of breath in the best way. Ona collapsed down next to you, her arms quickly wrapping around your waist.

“I had a phone call today.” You said nonchalantly. “From Paul,” you added as you tucked the duvet around the both of you. “There’s been an offer for me in the January window”. She looked at you expectantly. “Oni, Voy a jugar para el Barcelona” you breathed out. She stiffened in your arms.

“Qué quieres decir, amor?” She choked out after a few moments of silence, sitting up and moving away from you. You knew she wanted to go back to Spain, go back to Barca … but this was not the reaction you were expecting.

“Paul phoned. They’ve put in an offer for me for the January window. I’m signing on the 1st with it being announced after El Clásico.” You stated the facts. The simple outline of the facts that made you feel so, so happy.

“Are we not going to talk about this? You can’t leave in the middle of the season. United need you. We need you…. I need you, amor” She started off loud, angry, and upset, but by the end of the sentence it was barely a whisper. You had never seen Ona so… you could describe the look on her face. The way her body seemed slumped over in sadness.

“Hey… hey. No, don’t think like that. I’m here until the break. We’ve got a month or so. Everything will be fine, Oni. You are well aware that Barcelona is only a few hours on a plane. Everything will be fine!” She seemed to accept your comforting words.

But everything wasn’t fine.

There was a shift in the relationship arrangement whatever this was. Fewer jumpers were in your wardrobe. When she ran out of body wash, she didn’t replace it with a new bottle. Less of her snacks were added to your weekly shopping list. You still drove her to training but her music no longer blasted out of the speakers. She still cooked for you but there were never leftovers for the next day. She still slept in your bed, but she held onto your arm rather than curling up on top of you.

And then it was the Christmas break. Your last day at United. You weren’t sad to be leaving the club. But you were sad to be leaving the people. Of course, you knew you would see some of them during the international windows and whenever you came home but it wasn’t the same. Once again, the alcohol in your system led you to be on top of Ona. The first time you had done anything since you told her about your move. Something felt different this time. She was leaving to go back to Spain the following morning and you wouldn’t see her again before you left.

You woke up with a slight headache, but that wasn’t what pulled you from your sleep. Catalan came drifting across the flat. Ona was awake, and by the temperature of the bed, she had been for a while.

“Hey. Qué ocurre? Qué pasó?” She was pacing the living room, muttering away to herself. “Oni? Hey, estás bien?” She wasn’t paying any attention to you. “Ona”. Your hands rested on her shoulders, halting her scattered movements.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped. You jumped at the harshness in her tone.

“What’s wrong, Oni?” You asked again.

“I can’t do this.” She answered back. Her tone just as sharp. You knew what she was implying but you hoped you were wrong.

“This being…?” You trailed off.

“Us.” She stated simply. You waited a heartbeat, hoping she would realise you would do anything for her.

“It’s not like there was really an ‘us’ to begin with!” She spat at you. You felt your heart begin to splitter into a thousand pieces. Ona was looking for an argument. She was terrified you’d leave her behind at Manchester without a second look. Ona was hopelessly in love with you. She had been for some time. It wasn’t fast or scary. It was subtle and peaceful. One day she had woken up next to you and she knew it was you. It would always be you. But she didn’t know if she was yours. You were never a tactile person but with Ona, you always had some form of body contact. She thought it little of it. She was Spanish after all, touching your friends was fairly normal – she didn’t realise that you didn’t hug Lessi or Tooney unless they forced themselves at you. She didn’t consider how you were quick to shake off Mary or Maya’s arms. To you, and to everyone else but Ona, it was really obvious that she was yours and you were hers. You just hadn’t had the ‘what are we’ conversation yet. She was also jealous. Barca wanted you. Her home wanted you. Not her. Never mind that her agents had mentioned that Barca wanted her in the summer when she was out of contract. Barca offered money for you. Barca wanted you so badly that they offered a record-breaking fee in the middle of a season. She was scared, angry and jealous. How was she to know that you rarely argued back with someone? How was she to know that your easy-going nature was a result of growing up in a household where shouting was the norm? How was she to know that your mild-mannered temperament was due to your habit of placating your family to stop the noise? You had never told her that particular part of your childhood.

So, she hit you where she knew it would hurt the most, hoping to get a reaction out of you. “Eres sólo un polvo rápido. Fácil. Nada mas para mi. Something to pass the time. I don’t even know why Barca want you, honestly. No eres lo suficientemente buena.” She waited for a reply, but none came. She waited for you to lash out at her. Snap. Do something to make this … breakup? … easier. She wanted to be able to hate you in the same way she was trying to make you hate her. She did the second most painful thing she could think of. She spun on her heels and marched out the door.

You knew she was lying… you think. You hoped she was lying. You knew Ona could get mean when she was upset or scared. You had witnessed it after a particularly bad game – her harshness, her biting words. But she had said those words with such conviction, and you couldn’t think of a reason as to why she would be scared or upset. It had been a wonderful night. Laughter, soft touches exactly where you needed them, and love. You could feel the love between the two of you. Every lingering touch, every passionate kiss, ever whispered word. Everything was done with love, for the pure enjoyment of the other. Everything was perfect.

You're just a quick fuck. Easy. Nothing more to me. Was that all you were to her? Did the late nights mean nothing to her? Did the secrets you whispered into her hair mean anything? Were all the promises she made you lies? Was everything she ever said to you just so she could get her regular fix? Did she really think you weren’t good enough for Barcelona? She knew her opinion of you and your football meant a lot to you. Was every reassurance that you were good enough for the starting XI mean nothing? Was every calming word when you were waiting for Sarina’s call false? Did she genuinely think that you weren’t good enough?

You were in a daze all throughout Christmas. Seeing you family was fun, but you couldn’t shake the clouds in your mind. When you met with the some of the Lionesses in Manchester in between Christmas and New Year, everyone could tell something was wrong. You were normally on the quieter side, preferring to listen rather than speak. But you didn’t really do either. You were just there; not contributing to conversations or laughing along like you usually would. Something was wrong but no one knew what. And then you were on a plane, staring out the window as you watched Spain get closer and closer. You had never been to Spain outside of camps and tournaments. Ona had promised to take you there, to show you Barcelona, to show you her home. But you had to make it your home without her by your side.

And now you were about to play Ona in a World Cup Final.

Lucy knew something was eating at you in the days leading up to the final. She had phoned Leah to come to the hotel to cheer the whole team up and boost morale. It had worked for the other girls but not you. Kiera phoned Alexia as well. But the comforting words had washed straight over you. Everyone thought that it was because you were facing the Barca girls. No one in Barcelona knew of your history with Ona beyond that of teammates at United. If she was ever in town for a quick break, you always, miraculously, had other plans you couldn’t get out of. They didn’t know you lied and hid yourself away in your flat – moving your car a few streets along and leaving your phone off so the location couldn’t be tracked. You’d even gone so far as to phone up Hayley Raso in Madrid to ask if you could come visit her when you found out Ona would be at a team bonding event due to her free schedule coinciding with game-less weekend for Barca. Hayley was a little confused, but you were close enough friends from your time at Manchester that she didn’t question it.

Ona’s words had stayed with you. Every time you failed gave the ball away, passed a too-wide cross, or missed a shot on goal, her words echoed in your mind. You’re not good enough. The venom lacing her tone permeated your brain. You pushed yourself hard then ever before. You went for runs before training to improve your stamina, stayed late to practice free kicks and penalties. You lifted heavier weights and broke your old PBs in the gym. You were eating correctly and always seemed cheery enough, so no one really questioned it. Slowly the muscles started to grow. You were always on the stockier side, the muscles you had slowly built up helping you with your defence. But now you were really built. Your muscles were obvious, even under looser fitting clothes. Not that you really wore loose clothes anymore. At first, it was because everyone on the team, everyone in Barcelona, looked good. Their styles were just rubbing off on you, you had justified to yourself. But eventually, the tops became tighter and shorter. The trousers became low rise, and the hemlines became higher. The Barca Glow Up (and Lotte had coined it) was definitely real. You told yourself it was for you. The clothes you were wearing, the muscles you liked to show off, was because you were proud of them. Which you were. But you couldn’t lie to yourself for long. The Barca media frequently posted game day fits. You knew Ona followed Barca. You knew you would appear on her timeline. Yes, you were a little more tired than you used to be. But that was fine. You didn’t tell anyone the words that rattled around in your head when you were alone. You were fine. Everything was fine. You were playing the best football of your life at Barca. You were a key part of their defence, making your way into the Starting XI quickly and constantly proving your worth in every game.

You were fine. Ok, you hadn’t had sex, or even looked at another girl, since Ona arriving in Spain. Ok, you had to have some form of noise constantly in the background because every time there was silence your thoughts drifted back to Manchester. Ok, you couldn’t be around Ingrid and Mapi or anyone else in a relationship for too long otherwise you might start crying. Ok, you were still very much broken hearted. But you were fine. You weren’t necessarily good, but you were fine

The morning of the final, you were quiet. But everyone was, even Tooney. The buzz of anticipation. The air of expectation. Everyone was doing their own pre-match routine. You had followed yours to the letter. A gentle walk alone this morning followed by breakfast. A full bottle of water on the coach to the stadium. Pitch inspection with Less and Tooney. Warm up with Lucy and Millie. Hair slicked into a bun. A spray of perfume and into the tunnel to walk out.

She was standing just a head of you. Perfect. Breath-taking. Even with her game face on and her concentration as Irene spoke to her, you could see the usual kindness in her features. Those soft warm eyes that you had been lost in far too often. The freckles that littered her skin that you had traced and played dot-to-dot with as you laughed sleepless nights away. The braid that you used to tug on to get her attention before a match that always made her smile and break her focus. You knew you were still desperately in love with her. You shook your head. You couldn’t let her get to you. Not now. Your walls went back up as you pushed all thoughts from her mind. She wasn’t your Oni – even though you knew in your heart she would always be that to you –, she was the object that stood in your way of a World Cup. As Jess and Alex pulled your attention away from the Spanish players, you missed her looking at you.

She knew you had more muscle than before but seeing you in the flesh was something else. Your eyes that have the ability to truly look at a person, looked a little more tired than she was used to. The genuine smiled that was a defining feature for you was replaced with a hard line and a smirk every now and again. She thinks you have had a haircut since being in Barca – your bun wasn’t as big as it used to be in Manchester. She wanted nothing more than to trace her fingers gently over the new scar just above your eyebrow. She knew exactly how you got it. She watched every game of yours, live if she could – on repeat if she couldn’t. You had collided with a player during Chelsea Champions League match. She had been so terrified she almost picked up the phone to call you several times. She did play a little more brutally the next time she faced Chelsea. She had been carded after she left a particularly nasty tackle on the girl that had hurt you. She didn’t know that you also watched all of her games. She didn’t know that you also wanted to phone her after that match but was so scared of her rejection. But right now, you weren’t her Amor – even though you would always be that to her –, you were the object that stood in her way of a World Cup.

Part 2 will probably be out fairly quickly as a lot of it is already written but yeh

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso soccer #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #fc barcelona #manchester united #man utd #man utd women

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wosoragebaiter69 · 9 months

Text

you don’t have to be perfect

barça fem x teen!reader, lucy bronze x teen!reader

request: here

A/N: also i would just like to say, if anyone has any feedback for my writing it’s greatly appreciated cuz i’m not the best writer ik that but i want to improve.

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It was apart of the contract I first signed with Barcelona that I continue my studies and finish school. Not ideal, but I get by with around 80% and sitting on a B for most my classes. What I didn’t factor in was the amount of stress I would have on top of the League and UWCL games when exams and assignments from 6 different classes were coming up. That’s hard on a 17 year old.

I felt myself start to drift away from everyone in the 2 weeks before mayhem. First it was denying to go out with the younger girls like Salma and Vicky, both of whom understood. Vicky being the same age as me and Salma only 2 years older than us. Then as expectations rose, classes became longer and filled extra information. All the time I wasn't on the pitch, I was studying. Or sleeping. (we dont talk about how even thats being cut down to maximum 5 hours a night).

Living with Lucy meant that she was bound to catch on to what was happening. It was inevitable. She took me under her wing when I first arrived along with some of the older girls and since I don’t speak Spanish natively, I was told to go with Lucy who was told to keep an eye on me. It’s nice, when you don’t want her to worry about how you’re ignoring everyone and have bags under your eyes whenever she sees you. She really does try her hardest to get me to do anything that’s not over analysing and over-studying the numerous topics, but no matter how much it pains me. I always turn her down.

After another night of studying until 2am, there’s an early morning training session and I know I’ve only gotten 4 hours of sleep. If I told the medical staff I’m sure they’d pale.

I’m aware that I probably look like death walking, but it doesn’t bother me. If I pass with above average grades, I’m happy and I know my actual parents will be too. I ignore the concerned looks that Irene and Alexia give Lucy, and get changed ready for the training session.

It’s gruelling, the lack of sleep from the past 2 weeks has finally started to catch up. When I least needed it to. Maybe I am working too hard. It’s too late for that though. I know I’m being watched by the captains, acting for a little bit longer won’t do much harm. Can it?

When the third water break rolls around, I sit on the floor and flop onto my back, closing my eyes. Too tired in the moment to do anything other than breathe. The sunshine above me dulls as Lucy and Alexia stare down at me. When I open my eyes. My captain has a raised brow, while my roommate has her arms crossed.

“Y/N, get up please. Now.” It’s Lucy who speaks first. I don’t give in. What’s their problem?

“No. I am fine where I am thank you very much.” I bite back. Lucy looks like she’s trying to hold herself together and Alexia looks furious. Unconsciously, I sink into myself hoping the ground could swallow me up.

“Nena, we won’t ask again.” The spaniard says, her voice low as she sticks out her hand.

I reluctantly take it, pulling myself up and staring at the two in front of me.

“Come.” Alexia says blankly, leaving no room for argument before walking toward the main building. I sigh, doing as she says or I know I won’t hear the end of it. Lucy trails just behind me, her jaw set and making sure I don’t run away.

When inside I’m placed on a couch, wishing and praying to any extra-terrestrial being that I can leave this confrontation. What is it even about? Why am I here? I’ve done nothing wrong.

“So, we noticed you’ve been pushing people out. You also look dead.” Classic Alexia, straight to the point.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I look away.

“Really? Because when I go to bed, which is around midnight and sometimes 1 if I’m doing other work. Your light is always on. You better fess up now before we make you do extra laps, and clear all the equipment from training.” It’s Lucy this time, starring daggers into me. Still, I don’t let up.

“Maybe I left the light on.” I shrug. “And why do we have to do this right now? I have 2 exams tomorrow. So, if I may. Let’s finish training so I can get to study and do other things.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about Y/N. You’re deflecting absolutely everything we say. You’re not taking the information in. I get you’re stressed but that doesn’t mean you isolate yourself.” She pauses, sighing deeply. “We are going home right now. You will not touch your school work, this has gone on for long enough. I know Alexia agrees with me.”

“Before you argue, just think. Is this really the best way I could’ve prepared? Yes nail in, do the study for good results. But also remember to utilise the support system you have, the team, the coaches, take a break.” By the end of the rant I feel tears well in my eyes. I feel someone hug me and I can tell who it is by the obscurely large hands.

“Nena, go home with Lucy. Get some rest, and not only will you feel better but it gives your brain a break. When the week is over we can talk more but for now go.” The Catalan smiles warmly. I nod my head saying thanks before walking with Lucy to the car.

“Do you feel alright? You do look very pale.” She places her hands against my face and frowns. “No temperature. I’ll get some food into you and we’ll have a rest day. Just us.” I nod slowly staring out of the window as my mind races.

When we get to the apartment, no conversation is made and I immediately go and take a shower. It’s there that I cry and let all my frustrations out, the stress finally taking its toll on my mind.

When I’m dressed and ready I walk out to the smell of pancakes and Lucy sitting on the couch with Narla next to her. She hears me and turns her head around, eyebrows furrowing at the state I’m in.

She pats the open spot next to her which isn’t taken by the Westie and hands me a plate, which I accept gratefully.

It’s a comfortable silence, but I know she’s waiting for me to say anything. And this time, I do.

“I’m sorry Luce.” My voice is quiet and more high pitched compared to what it normally sounds like.

She smiles lightly.

“Hey, these things happen. You’re smart, just as Alexia said give your mind a rest and you’ll do better. Myself, Keira, the rest of the team only want the best for you and your well-being. Let’s not talk about this now, take it step by step. You’ll be ok.” I nod wiping freshly formed tears as she pulls me into a big hug, giving the rest of her pancake to Narla who eats it happily.

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And ok it would be. I end up playing Fifa with Lucy the rest of the day before eventually falling asleep against her. As for the exams, I pass by with good grades and after everything’s done the team takes me out to a restaurant to celebrate. As much as I deny it, this team is the most important thing to me. I love and adore them all so much.

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #barca femeni x reader #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #alexia putellas

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iaure · 1 year

Text

𝔦 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭

𝖞𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖎𝖌𝖚𝖊𝖑 𝖔❜𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 1: 𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔶; 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 2: 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰, 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 4: 𝔰𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴

CW: delusion, attempted kissing, chase sequence, snitchery, thoughts of reader being a mother, vivid fears of dying, reader is temporarily locked away, reader gets hurt, SpanishDict translated Spanish.

This part switches between Miguel's POV and the Reader's. ♱ stands for the translation being at the bottom of the post. please let me know immediately if there are any errors!

Severe spoilers for Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ we making it out of nueva york with this one !!!! maybe. there's a poll at the end to determine fundamental plot! please vote after you read and share your thoughts!! i had the she's homeless x spider-man india mashup on loop and reached a higher place of ascension.

wc: 3.8k

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Miles Morales had escaped, run amok to another world. Jess and Ben were trying to hunt him down, but with no back history on the Go Home Machine, they were stuck playing the waiting game. Margo was working on it, but Miguel had a hunch that her heart wasn't in on it. Traitors, everywhere. And the most painful traitor of all refused to meet his eye. Miguel sat on a chair in front the containment bubble, elbows on his knees with his hands laced together. Y/N had been sealed away, red filament twisting around her like a hamster ball, or a puffed up cocoon. The grapefruit glow bounced off her skin, casting an ominous light over the blooming bruises around her midsection, where her suit had torn from the glass, where Miguel had hurt her. He hated self-confliction. Y/N had betrayed him, the Spider-Society, the multiverse-willingly aided Miles in his escape. She probably was the reason he got away. Y/N had made the conscious choice to forsake the canon. She had known Miles for all of an hour, at most. Y/N threw away everything to help a teenager that (to Miguel, at least) had no idea the damage he was causing. She completely the deserved the situation she was in. It didn't matter what the reasoning was. And now she sat, curled up in a fetal position on the floor, trapped inside a containment bubble, her back to him. Y/N didn't meet his eye, but he knew it wasn't an act of shame or cowardice. It was the idea that he wasn't worthy of it; the idea that he didn't deserve to see her eyes. That she wouldn't even grace him with the idea that she was looking at him. She was being punished like a toddler with time out. Y/N had made a mistake.

But Miguel loved her.

He couldn't dance around the word anymore. There was a monster clutching his beating heart, and it haunted his immortal soul. It was love, as twisted and convoluted as it was. Love for a woman that had her back to him, pointedly refusing to speak. Miguel had seen her anger before. Being on the receiving end felt like a nightmare. Just silence, as thought the two of them were preschoolers and the silent treatment was the most lethal weapon in the schoolyard. He expected her vitriol to be loud, the kind that breeds screaming matches-not this.

"Y/N." Miguel was met with (shocker!) more silence. "Where did Miles go? This is important." Silence. "Why would you do this. You've potentially damned the multiverse." Y/N shuffled a bit, if only to wiggly further away. "You've helped disrupt the canon." Miguel sighs. "You're an adult. You should know better. Miles was a stupid kid-" "That you body-slammed into a train." Y/N finally spoke, biting like a viper and tilting her head a bit to look at Miguel out of the corner of her eye. "A 15-year-old that you saw fit to chase on all fours. His reaction was reasonable." Miguel's conflict swelled. Y/N was talking in that dulcet angel tone, so succulent despite her anger. But her insistence was irritating. She absolutely should've understood, better than any of the teenagers, her little acolytes. Miles was new. It was true that his reaction was...understandable, to a degree. Hobie always broke the rules anyway. Gwen was going through a rough time, and Pav was there to have a good time. But Y/N's brother died because of an anomaly. She of all people should know the threat they pose.

"We tried explaining it to him. It was his choice that he didn't listen. You, on the other hand, you knew the consequences." "I'd rather be a proper hero and fight for what's right, to help those that need help. That's a concept that's hard for you to understand, right?" "Oh, so trying to protect the multiverse is wrong. Okay, okay. Esto es ridículo.♱" Miguel rose from the chair, muttering under his breath and turning with his hands on his hips. His head was reeling. He knew Y/N was stubborn, but this was absurd. "I'm holding every Spider, every world, together!" "Says the guy who didn't even get bit!" Y/N counters, quick as lightning. "If your canon events are so true, then how is Nueva York standing? You answer me that!" "Canon events can differ-" "By so much that there's not even a spider? Get real, Miguel! The kid isn't doing the-the-the-!" Y/N tripped over her words, rising from her curl on the ground and talking with her hands, trying to get her thoughts in one row. "The devastation that you think he is! Canon isn't infallible!" Miguel whipped around, realising he'd come face to face with Y/N. She was panting like a dog, a scowl buried under a grimace buried under a glare. Her eyes were steely, finally meeting Miguel's eyes like rocks crashing with the sea. It was a clash of wills.

And Miguel hated how much he loved it.

What a woman, honestly. If she was this passionate about protecting a teenager she'd just met, what would she be like with her own kids? Miguel was sure that Y/N would be wonderful, always coming to the kid's defense, without question. That venomous tongue would be soft-spoken to a child, one that would have Y/N's eyes and Miguel's hair. Maybe a little girl, a Gabriella that would truly be Miguel's own. No switching places with the dead. No feigning love for a woman he didn't know. No technicolour nightmares. His own little girl, from his own wife. And god! Y/N as a wife! She'd be so sweet, waking Miguel up in the mornings with light kisses, whispering sweet nothings to him, letting his hands water as his slips out of groggy dreams. The rising sun on her skin would light her up like a holy statue, and the moment Miguel was conscious he'd be happy (honoured) to worship. From the second he woke up, to the second he fell asleep, he'd be worshipping, down to his dreams being dictated by Y/N. Holidays, weekends, family trips, saving the multiverse together...it would be-

"What, you going brain dead? Are you even listening?"

Y/N's biting words dragged Miguel back to reality, as hateful as the idea of reality was. His daydreams were so much kinder than this. She was still upset, still trapped behind that red barrier, and they were still enemies. But after the vision of what they could have, it was like a tease to just keep playing cat and mouse. It would be cruel and unusual punishment to torture himself like that. It'd take convincing. A lot of it. But Y/N wasn't unreasonable. She was noble at heart and maybe a bit naïve. But she was a Spider at the end of the day, always looking for the best solution to terrible problems. And that's where it's important. That's okay. Relationships were about compromise, after all. "Y/N." Miguel spoke softly. He really couldn't hide his affections for much longer. It was spilling out of him like a cup, pouring through the cracks and spilling over the sides. And he saw how Y/N shifted. He could tell that she was figuring it out. She could see how he moved. And she slowly backed to the other side of the containment bubble, moving further away until her back was against the wall. Did it break his heart? A little bit, but this was going to take time. All things would.

"Y/N," He repeated. "We...really shouldn't fight. We're-we're special, you and I." Miguel got close to the containment bubble, watching Y/N.

He didn't realise it, but sometime in the last fifteen minutes, the bubble's purpose had changed. It started out as capturing a prisoner, a traitor, someone who was dangerous and could be a threat to society as a whole. But it changed to a shield, protecting a prey animal from a predator. It was Y/N's last safeguard from Miguel doing anything unwise. The dynamic shifted. Y/N could tell it-every hair was on end, every sense was on fire. But Miguel was oblivious. "I'm gonna shut this off," He tapped on the filament, and Y/N swallowed. "Promise me you won't go running off. We can have an adult conversation. We can talk." And maybe Y/N should've protested. She could've asked to keep it on, but who'd admit they were scared in a situation like this? So she stayed silent. She kept in her corner, and irritation reared it's ugly head again. Miguel was trying to be cordial. Why wouldn't she just promise? He was offering her freedom.

(Somewhat. Details didn't matter, not here, not now.)

It's not like he was going to hurt her. It's two measly words. Two words in exchange for a lifetime and some of love, affection, devotion. Was that really too hard of a deal?

"Promise." Miguel growled.

Instantly, Y/N put her hands up in mock surrender. "Promise! I promise." Miguel's heart bloomed. She could be so charming when she wanted to be. So disciplined and playful, a good wife, a good lover. Listening was the first step, and she was listening. Miguel could only grin. "Okay." He put his hands to the barrier as his heart raced. He was so close. A step or two more, and he would have the love of his life in his arms. And Y/N was staying still. There was no tension that he could see. She didn't look like she was about to run. She was just nervous. The red barrier folded out of itself, and quiet suddenly, it was just Miguel and Y/N in a room. When was the last time they'd done this? Miguel couldn't remember the last time it was just them. It was always either in fleeting moments or with other Spiders around. It was impossible to get Y/N alone, no matter how hard he tried. But here she was, just him and her and them and an empty room where no one was going to stop them. She didn't move, watching him like he were a predator in the savannah. Miguel didn't like to say that he was excited, per se. But there wasn't really another word for it.

His eyes scanned over Y/N's pretty face, every inch memorised in Miguel's mind. Her sharp eyes. Her cute nose. Her pretty lips. Her pretty lips. What would they taste like? Did she use lip gloss? What would that taste like? How would it feel to have her lips linger on his? These were dire questions, and Miguel was done waiting. He walked up to Y/N, slow and purposeful. He had to seem as non-threatening as possible to pull this off. And quick, because chances were Y/N was going to do something harsh, like slap him. But it was a small price to pay. After all, he had his whole life with Y/N ahead of him. He just needed to get it started.

Y/N was by no means a stupid woman.

She grew up with the same precautions every other girl did. Don't talk to strangers, they don't have candy in their van, and know when men are about to jump your bones. And in this case, she could practically smell Miguel's thoughts, like the gears in his brain were making smoke from how hard they were churning. She trusted him as far as she could throw him, if she tried throwing him when she was 12 and before she got bitten. That is to say, she didn't trust Miguel at all. He was a stupid, stupid man, and she needed to bolt. So, that's exactly what she did. Promises, schromises. Y/N could say whatever it took for Miguel to let her go, but at the end of the day, she had a responsibility to herself. For all his talk about having an adult conversation, she knew what the look in his eyes was. And when he began reaching for her cheek, Y/N knew it was now or never. Miguel's body weight was enough that she could web him up and hurl him into the nearby wall. It was like watching a cannonball get launched a Mach speed, and his surprised yelp was far more satisfying than it should've been. But he'd done this to himself, and as Y/N booked it down the hallway, she knew she was on a divine clock. Either luck or skill was going to get her out alive, and luck was unreliable at best. She had her hands, her webs, and her brain. That was going to have to make do.

A vast majority of the Spider-People were out, either in their own worlds or helping hunt down Miles. Poor Miles. He just wanted to save his dad. Y/N did her best, did the most she could, but right now? Right now, she had to focus on getting out alive, preferably with her pride intact. And as she heard Miguel's thundering footsteps behind her, an anguished yell, she found it in herself to go impossibly faster. Maybe if she was an outside observer, it would've been funny-a woman booking it past someone standing, only to be followed by a massive, 6'9 blue and red bullet on all fours. Wow. Miguel really did like just running like a dog. Y/N dove down into the lobby of the Spider-Society, ducking and weaving under bridges and platforms. Miguel leapt like an animal, clawing his way onto a platform above and dropping down.

"Stop running!" He barked, getting up to two legs again and reaching out. Y/N could feel his claws miss by a hair, and she leapt off the edge, swinging around and swerving to a platform above, stumbling into the containment room. Rows and rows and rows of sunset orange, anomalies staring at her with wide-confused eyes. None of them were the ones she'd caught, and as she heard Miguel claw up the side of the wall, she knew running wouldn't work forever. She had to do what Miles did-hide, outlast, outplay. These kids were getting too damn smart. Y/N dove behind the anomalous Rhino, praying that it wouldn't elect to shuffle over. It was the biggest thing in the room, the most stationary-and now Y/N realised she was putting far too much stock in luck. If Miguel found her, she genuinely didn't know what he would do. Would he cage her again? Hurt her? Kill her? It all seemed to be a possibility, all at once.

Now, all she could was hope the anomalies didn't sell her out.

In all honesty, she wouldn't blame them. The Spiders didn't have the most ethical treatment of anomalies. She wasn't even sure if they got fed, or what. But maybe a shared hatred for one particular Spider-Man would get it across. Y/N shared a look with a Doc Ock, and he stared at her. She grit her teeth, praying that somehow, the silent prayer would get across. A twitch throbbed in her neck from sheer tension, before the Doc Ock gave a barely noticeable nod. He looked away. It's a cold day in hell when the villains understood Y/N better than the 'good guys' did. Miguel burst into the room, claws tearing up the metal floor. Y/N could see a handful of the anomalies jump, all eyes on him. She had her back to him, and part of her hated how she'd put herself in such a compromising position. Short of her spider-senses, she wouldn't have a clue if she needed to run, and right now, she was having a Spider-Woman check engine light with how much the sense was going off already. It was rendered useless, because thank you very much, she was aware she was in danger.

"Vamos. Prometo que seré gentil.♱" Miguel cooed, heavy steps reverberating throughout the room. Maybe he was muttering to himself, or he genuinely was trying to speak to Y/N, but she knew better than to just leap out and go 'I'm here! Come and get me!'. Spider-Man was funny, but he wasn't stupid. And the same went for his 7290 variant. The anomalies all went silent, and Y/N felt her mouth go dry. It'd been so long since she'd last felt this genuinely terrified. Last time, she was 14, sobbing in an alleyway as she watched her uncle die. This time, she was being hunted by an obsessed, genetically infused daddy longlegs. This was absolutely, totally, completely fine.

"Mi corazón es tuyo. ¿Qué más se puede pedir?♱" Miguel kept muttering to himself, low and quiet and enough that if Y/N didn't have superior hearing, she wouldn't have picked it up. "I need you, I need you, I need you...you need me."

Mm. Y/N wrinkled her nose at that. That just sounded stupid.

Y/N kept her breathing controlled, trying to tame the soreness in her lungs and the shuddering breaths. Bile pooled in her throat as she heard Miguel slowly walk past the rhino, a shake in her hands that she hated acknowledging. But Miguel was terrifying. He was the ultimate predator, trying to hunt Y/N down like prey. She was prey, for the first time in years. She figured that maybe, if they'd done a better job of convincing Miles, then it would make sense. But if this was what the boy was seeing, feeling, then no wonder. She would've jumped off the bullet highway, too. Abruptly, there was a sudden crash, and Y/N's head whipped around to see that Miguel had thrown one of the containment contraptions, hurling it to the wall opposite to her. She practically jumped out of her skin, the bile leaping to her tongue in a bitter, acidic taste. Miguel swore hard in Spanish, howling like an injured dog, damaging more equipment and clawing up anything that wasn't an anomaly. With every hit, every swipe, Y/N flinched, because holy shit that could be her. He could pop her head off with a single slightly hard hit, and it'd be over.

He stalked out of the room, leaping down to the Go Home Machine below. Y/N's sigh of relief felt like it was shared with the whole room, all the anomalies relaxing at once. It's like a thread had been pulled out of a fabric, letting it finally fall the way it was meant to. One anomaly, a fucked up Green Goblin, did a dramatic flop to the floor. Y/N shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. At this point, she'd just abandon ship-leap out the nearest window and web her way out of the city before Miguel could deactivate her watch. And even if he did, then she'd hide out. Nueva York was insane, a metal jungle. She could spend the rest of her life hiding out there, if she had to.

"Beep beep."

Y/N's eyes flew open, looking to her left. Her gut plummeted. Miguel's golden boy, his favourite, one of their best, stood next to her, exactly 4 centimetres high. LEGO Spider-Man, with his teeny little watch. Before, Y/N thought he was cute, like a dog or something. But as his watch flickered to life and the visage of Miguel appeared, she regretted every single instance of her almost stepping on him. "H-Hey, wait-!" She whispered, harsh. "Don't-!" "Miguel, I got eyes on Y/N!" LEGO Spider-Man moved in a way that only a LEGO minifigure could, his head rotating a little bit. The Miguel avatar slowly turned, locking eyes with Y/N, and her blood froze. "Thanks, Peter. You're one of our best for a reason." "Beep beep." LEGO Spider-Man shut off the watch, looking to Y/N. "Sorry. Nothing personal." There was silence for a second.

"Peter." Y/N said. "You fucking suck."

She picked up the LEGO and proceeded to chuck him as far as she possibly could, launching him into the lobby and watching him fall. Some of the anomalies groaned, and already Y/N could hear Miguel barreling his way back to the room. Why the hell could she not catch a break? She only had a handful of options, most of which weren't actually options she could do. There was turning herself in-a non-option. There was calling for help-another non-option. And then there was simply...jumping out the window. The same thing Miles did. Which...felt cliché. Would Miguel really fall for the same thing twice? Literally? Miguel ran into the room, sliding across the floor. There was a moment where he looked up to Y/N, eyes wide and wild. His grin was wide, panting hard with his fangs poking his bottom lip. A flush had bloomed on his face, his eyes blown out like he was on drugs. "There you are," He hissed.

Well. The window it was.

Y/N's sides still hurt from the last time she got tossed out a window. This time, she gave herself the courtesy of bracing herself with her arms, but the glass still hurt like hell. It cut into her arms as Miguel genuinely shrieked, running out after her. There was a moment where Y/N was just in a free-fall, taking a second to reflect on her situation. Did she wake up this morning expecting any of this? No. If she had, she would've texted her neighbour to keep an eye on her fish. But nooo. She just had to get herself mixed up in super-hero shenanigans. She crossed her arms, a petulant scowl on her face. Maybe she still could call to make sure her fish would be okay. Miguel hurtled out the window after her, a hand reaching out to catch the front of her suit. His claws were out, the extra inch and a half proving far more of a threat than Y/N liked. She spun down and webbed Miguel's foot, yanking him down and using him as velocity to shove herself up. He tried the same trick on her, but if there was one thing she had on the 'kilogram of steel vs kilogram of feathers' built Spider was that she was that much faster. She yanked her foot out of the way, webbing to the side of the Spider-Society and slamming into the glass of a floor she'd never even been on before. Miguel plummeted like a brick to the ground, webbing to a building that was that much lower. Y/N had a total of two minutes to decide what the hell she was going to do. So...what was she going to do?

♱ - This is ridiculous. - Come on out. I promise I'll be gentle. - My heart is yours. What more could you ask for?

╰･ 𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙘 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ 𝙢𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙡 𝙤'𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖 ⨯・ ⨯・@ishqani ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @pix-stuff ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @localdepressedvampire ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @cantchoosejust1 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @tired-writer04 ⸜❤︎⸝‍ @neteyamsbulletwound

#divagaciones (per)#୨♡୧ gothic updates #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader

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