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》 Alexia Putellas x Reader
》 words count: +750
》 I need the guts to go and give you up / 'cause I'll kill myself tryin' and I'm not scared of dyin'
“Qué es eso de que te vas?!” (What do you mean you’re leaving?)
Legit question, you think. One can leave so many places and in so many ways.
You can clearly read the shock in her naturally stoic face, usually unreadable for people who don’t have the privilege to orbit close to her heart.
Your head sinks, eyes too focused on your unlaced shoes to see Alexia taking a step toward you. But you sense her. And putting some more distance between the two of you is the only response you can give her right now.
She tries to make you look at her, she knows you can feel her pleading eyes desperately trying to lock into your darker ones, but you don't dare to. You will drop everything otherwise.
“Alexia, please”
“No, no hace esto, ¡no lo digas así!” (No, don’t do it, don’t say it like that!), like she’s the one hurting you.
You take even more steps faraway from her frozen form, hitting with the back of your calves the sofa in the abruptly smaller house. You let yourself drop on it, sitting and rubbing the stiff texture of your jeans.
The catalan takes it as a sign of you being ready to explain whatever this is, to explain this epically huge misunderstanding. But your muffled sob makes it evident to her you need space, space from her.
Dropping your head into your hands is the only way you can think of to make them stop shaking so much.
You can’t let Alexia come closer, you can’t let her touch you in the way somehow capable of healing every aching part of your body and soul. You can’t glance at your lover, you can’t let her look at you the way she does when she needs you to understand the feeling she can’t communicate.
You just can’t.
However, when the blonde starts crying, silently as if not wanting to disrupt your breakdown; you’re sure.
Leaving truly is the only way.
“I got an offer”
“You got offers all the time”
“I asked for it”
You have known her for four years now, getting closer and closer with time passed and shared experiences.
Four years of studying all the finest details of the ways she acts and moves. Three years of falling asleep with your hand on her chest, her heartbeats as the only lullaby that can make you rest. Two years of heading to a future that appallingly looks a lot like the same for the both of you. One year of trying to tell yourself that nothing changed about the way you feel of your life here, of your life here with her.
You have known her for so long, so profoundly, yet this is the first time you meet this Alexia.
A truly, deeply broken Alexia.
And you’re the reason why.
“Tú lo pediste?” (You asked for the transfer?)
“Yes”
The captain moves slowly, dropping on her knees right in front of you and taking your hands in hers. She’s not shaking like you, but you can catch deep worry in her eyes. She’s the most scared she’s ever been.
You beg every goddess and gods on earth and sky she doesn’t ask you to stay.
If Alexia asks you to stay, you’ll stay.
“Por qué?” (Why?)
She is not hiding her cries anymore and the brutal honesty of her feelings is something you will never get used to.
Something you will never forget.
“I need to leave”
“Me?”
“I can’t leave you, mi corazón”
The catalan closes her eyes and tries to calm herself down, her sudden shortness of breath alarming you. The term of endearment always gets her heart skip a beat, your broken accent somehow making it even more special.
“Me estás dejando” (You’re leaving me)
“I’m not, I’m not leaving you”
Your hands unties from hers, moving fast to hold her face before she panics. You study your lover’s distinctive features one more time, one last time. You know you will never forget her, but you can’t take any chances now.
The older girl closes her eyes, letting even more tears fall. When you gently caress them away with your thumbs, smiling softly, she knows this is a goodbye.
“No puedo dejarte, Alexia” (I can’t leave you)
You kiss her, one more time.
“Voy a dejar Barcelona porque no puedo dejar a ti” (I’m leaving Barcelona because I can’t leave you)
One last time.
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gojo would kill your work husband. but if he were the work husband, that's a different story
REAL!! he’s such a hypocrite because if someone mentioned you had a work husband, his entire world would stop and he wold devise the absolute worst plans to make sure that your co-worker, everyone at your job, and everyone in the next building over knew that he was happily committed to you
but if he is the work husband, he’s very........ dutiful in his role. there’s a loose office/lawyer au in my head where satoru is your secretary, and for all intents and purposes, your personal assistant, and he’s good at his job, but mostly because he considers his job to be pleasing you. he has coffee for you when you arrive, he moves your schedule around without you asking, he has answers to questions before you can even ask them, he has fresh flowers on your desk weekly, pokes into your meetings to pretend to hand you a file that’s really just maybe a single document in a manilla folder with candy on top of it—he’s made himself your business, your partner; he’s made himself irreplaceable, and he loves to remind everybody of that fact.
he’s also extremely loyal. sure, he could day a week’s worth of work done in about a day, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just use his talents for anybody. he’s your secretary, so he’s at your beck and call, and everyone knows it. they know he’s the best, but also that he’s off limits—not because you won’t share him, but because satoru won’t let himself be shared.
he also extends his duties beyond work, of course. when he hands you a print out of your schedule for the day and you’re confused by the three-hour block of time you have in the middle of the day, satoru just helps you shrug your coat of your shoulders and smiles, “that’s for the lunch date you have with me, of course!” hanging up your coat in your closet for you, “i’m paying, see you soon, sweets.” and because you’re great at your job, and satoru helps you be great, nobody really questions when the two of you have time for a 13-course tasting menu at 1pm on a tuesday afternoon. and if they did, all satoru would say that you two had a lovely date
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