#seulgisqt writes

[seulgisqt]

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐒 — alexia putellas

alexia putellas x barcelona!reader

(a/n: on a roll trying to pump out my drafts cause I can feel the drought coming soon from uni >_< I’ve had this alexia piece gathering dust from last february)

word count: 2234

genre: somewhat fluff with angsty tendencies??

tw: emotional cheating

part two

summary: trying to keep your heart in check, but alexia’s charm keeps slipping through the cracks

You had always dreamed of playing for FC Barcelona. The moment you stepped onto the training grounds for the first time, it felt surreal, like walking through a dream you were afraid to wake up from. The weight of the crest on your chest, the legacy of the club, the camaraderie…it was everything you’d imagined.

What you hadn’t imagined was Alexia Putellas.

Alexia had a presence that couldn’t be ignored. As captain, she carried herself with an effortless confidence, but it wasn’t just her skill that made people gravitate towards her. It was how she made everyone feel like they belonged and were part of something greater. You admired that. Admired her.

But admiration was one thing. Whatever this thing brewing between the two of you? That was something else entirely.

It started subtly.

You noticed the lingering glances during drills, the way Alexia always seemed to pick you as a partner for rondos, and the teasing remarks that hovered just on the edge of something more. At first, you thought it was just the team’s natural warmth, a culture of closeness, of sisterhood. But then came the casual brushes of Alexia’s hand against your arm, the way she’d lean in just a little too close when you were reviewing plays, the way her eyes would linger just a second too long.

You weren’t unaware of the tension that danced just beneath the surface; rather, you were cautious. Caution was necessary because no one on your team was privy to the intricate details of your life back home. It wasn’t a secret in the traditional sense—more of a quiet truth you didn’t feel the need to broadcast. Lucia, your girlfriend, had been your unwavering supporter as you took the leap to move to the vibrant city of Barcelona. She understood the sacrifices involved, even as the miles stretched between you. You had made her a promise, a vow echoing in your mind: you would make it work, that your bond was resilient enough to withstand the distance and that nothing essential between you would change.

But things were changing, weren’t they?

After an intense afternoon training session, most of the team had already headed inside, but you stayed behind to run a few extra drills. You were focused, dribbling through a set of cones, when Alexia appeared at your side, effortlessly matching your pace.

“You know, overachieving isn’t always attractive.” Alexia teased, her voice light, but there was a glint of something more in her eyes.

You smirked, side-stepping around a cone. “Good thing I’m not trying to be attractive.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” She chuckled, a rich sound that sent warmth prickling down your spine.

You rolled your eyes and tried to focus on the ball at your feet, but it was hard when Alexia was right there, watching you with that signature, half-lidded smirk.

“You always this serious?” Alexia asked, dribbling in sync with you.

“Serious wins games.” You said without missing a beat.

Alexia grinned. “Yeah, but flirting makes them fun.”

You barely managed to avoid tripping over the brightly coloured ball that had rolled onto the path. With a swift recovery, you straightened yourself just in time to see Alexia snatch it up, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes that made her amusement unmistakable. “You’re unbearable,” you muttered half-heartedly, nudging her lightly with your shoulder in an attempt to redirect the conversation to a more comfortable territory. But Alexia didn’t shift away; instead, she leaned in just a bit closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You like having me around though.”

You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your throat as you grappled with an unfamiliar warmth creeping over you. The afternoon sun beat down relentlessly, but the flush in your cheeks hinted at something deeper—an awareness that you could not shake. “I like winning. You help with that.” You attempted to keep the atmosphere light, forcing out a nervous chuckle that barely masked your racing heart. Alexia, ever perceptive, tilted her head to the side, a playful spark dancing in her eyes as she regarded you with an amused smirk. “Good answer,” she replied, the corners of her lips curling up in delight. A quiet sigh of relief escaped your lips as Alexia leaned back a fraction, the teasing tension lingering in the air between you, thick and palpable.

In the locker room later, you sat down on the bench, wiping sweat from your brow. Your phone buzzed with a message from Lucia: Miss you. Call me later?

You stared at the screen, feeling the weight of the distance between them more than ever. You were loyal, you loved Lucia. But Alexia had a way of getting under your skin, of making you question things you didn’t want to question.

“You good?” a familiar voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back into the bustling hallway. You looked up to find Alexia standing a few feet away, her silhouette framed by the harsh fluorescent lights. She leaned casually against the row of lockers, one leg crossed over the other, a relaxed posture that somehow emanated confidence. The warmth in her gaze was new; it held an unexpected softness that made your chest tighten slightly.

“Yeah,” you replied quickly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your tone as you shoved your phone deep into the recesses of your bag. “Just tired.”

Alexia studied you for a moment, her brow slightly furrowed in concern, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she offered that signature smile of hers, bright, infectious, and impossibly charming. “Dinner tonight? A few of us are going out.”

You hesitated, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over you. You were acutely aware of what this invitation could spell out—more time spent close to Alexia, infused with her teasing laughter and those lingering looks that made your heart race. Despite the swirl of apprehension, you found yourself nodding, the corners of your mouth lifting in an awkward smile. “Yeah,” you said, the word escaping as a soft agreement. “Sounds good.” 

As Alexia turned to walk away, her laughter trailing behind her like a melody, you let out a slow, deliberate exhale. You leaned against the cool metal of the locker, the weight of the day and your mixed feelings pressing down on you.

This was fine. This was friendly. This was nothing.

The problem was, Alexia didn’t let up.

On and off the pitch, she found ways to insert herself into your orbit, offering to run extra drills with her, sitting next to her during team meetings, and walking alongside her after training. And every time, there was that look, the one that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You regretted saying yes almost immediately.

Dinner with the team was intended to be a simple outing, a chance to unwind and bond over good food and drinks. Yet, the moment Alexia stepped into the bustling Barcelona restaurant, the atmosphere shifted. You should have sensed the impending chaos and politely declined the invitation, preferring the comfort of a quiet evening at home. Instead, here you were, surrounded by a vibrant mix of teammates at a long, rustic wooden table, laughter and lively chatter enveloping you like a warm embrace.

The aroma of grilled seafood and roasted vegetables wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of clinking glasses and cheerful toasts. But amid the joviality, your thoughts were consumed by the presence of Alexia. She sat so close that every subtle movement caused your arms to graze against each other, sending a jolt of warmth through you. Her laughter rang out, bright and infectious, drawing everyone in, but for you, it was a reminder of the tension layered beneath the surface. You should have called Lucia, sought the solace of familiarity, and anchored your heart where it truly belonged. Instead, you played along, trapped in this delicate balance of camaraderie and unacknowledged longing.

“You don’t drink?” the blonde asked, raising an eyebrow as you stuck with water while the others sipped on glasses of wine. You smiled faintly. “Nah, not really my thing.”

“You’re always so serious, chica,” Alexia leaned in slightly, her voice low enough that only you could hear, “Ever thought about letting loose?”

You met her gaze, trying to ignore the way your heart thumped harder. “I’m plenty of fun,” you arched an eyebrow, “just…in my own way.”

Alexia smirked, eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t quite place. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The rest of the team was oblivious to the tension simmering between you two, caught up in their own conversations. You did your best to focus on the food, the chatter, anything but the way Alexia kept looking at her as if she was trying to figure her out.

Without any hint of hesitation, Alexia leaned closer, her breath gentle and warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “You know,” she whispered, her voice low and inviting, “if you ever want to talk about whatever it is you’re keeping locked away, I’m a really good listener.”

You froze in place, your fork paused mid-air, a piece of food forgotten as her words sank in. Alexia pulled back slightly, a playful, innocent smile dancing on her lips, but behind that façade, you sensed a deeper intention. She was observing you keenly, prodding and probing, pushing the boundaries to see what lay beneath your guarded exterior.

And the worst part? It was working.

The night stretched on, and you found yourself relaxing more than you intended. The conversation flowed easily, and you were reminded of how much you truly loved being here. How much you loved the game, the city, the team.

But every now and then, Alexia would say something, touch your arm softly, or glance at you in a way that made your thoughts spiral into dangerous territory. By the time you left the restaurant and the team spilled onto the lively Barcelona streets, you felt like you were walking a tightrope. 

“You heading home?” Alexia asked casually, falling into step beside you as you walked through the city. 

“Yeah, early training tomorrow.” You nodded.

Alexia smiled knowingly. “Always responsible.” 

“Someone has to be.” You shot her a look. 

You walked in silence for a moment, the cool air wrapping around you both like a gentle shroud, before Alexia broke the stillness. With her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans, she spoke in a softer tone, almost as if she were sharing a secret. “You know, I get it. Keeping parts of your life to yourself.”

You stiffened slightly at her words, glancing at her with curiosity and caution. “Do you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alexia nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah,” she replied, her gaze drifting to the ground ahead. “People expect things from us. Sometimes it’s just easier to keep certain things private.” She paused, taking a deep breath as if the weight of her confession lingered in the air. “But…it can get lonely too,” she added quietly, her eyes flickering with a hint of vulnerability.

You contemplated her words, the significance hanging between you like unspoken truths, debating in your mind whether to share your own feelings. After a moment's hesitation, you finally responded, “Yeah,” your voice low and reflective. “It can.”

As they approached the intersection where their paths would diverge, Alexia paused for a moment, an indecision flashing across her face. She looked up at you, her eyes glimmering in the soft glow of the streetlights. “Well,” she said, a small, almost hesitant smile forming on her lips. “Goodnight, chica.”

“Night, Alexia,” you replied, your voice slightly strained as you forced a smile back at her, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you.

With that, you turned away a little too suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest as you walked briskly down the street. Each step felt heavier than the last, the sounds of the evening fading into a dull roar in your ears.

Once you finally arrived at your apartment, you slumped down onto your bed, the familiar comfort of your room juxtaposed against the storm brewing inside you. Your gaze fell on your phone, which lay silently beside you. An unread message from Lucia caught your eye, its simple declaration striking a chord deep within: I love you. Call me when you’re free.

A sigh escaped your lips as you ran a hand through your hair, frustration and longing intertwining in a tangled mess of emotion. You loved Lucia, you truly did, but the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings hung in the air around you, suffocating yet inescapable.

You lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, your phone resting on your chest. Lucia’s message glowed softly in the dark, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond just yet. Your mind was still tangled in the evening, in the way Alexia looked at you, and spoke to you.

This isn’t a problem, you told yourself. I’m just overthinking it.

And yet, you knew better.

You sighed, finally picking up your phone and typing out a quick reply:  I love you too. I’ll call tomorrow, I promise. Training ran late.

A lie. A small one. But it was easier than explaining why she hadn’t called sooner.

[seulgisqt]

𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐒 — lena oberdorf

lena oberdorf x bayern!reader

(a/n: hey…it’s been a while, uni has me on its deathbed so enjoy this piece whilst I disappear again x)

word count: 1136

genre: fluff

summary: lena challenges you to a game, but the real challenge is ignoring the way she looks at you

Giuila’s housewarming party was already in full swing by the time you arrived. Music pulsed through the apartment, blending with the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter. From the balcony, you could hear a few teammates arguing over a game of cards. The kind of chaotic energy that only came when the squad was off-duty.

You weren’t exactly a party person. Sure, you’d go to the team events when you had to, but you’d never been the first to arrive or the one to linger long after. Still, Giulia had insisted, and you figured one wouldn’t kill you.

You hesitated at the door, shifting the bottle of wine you’d brought. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a decent contribution. Just as you raised a hand to knock, the door swung open, and Giulia stood there, grinning.

“You made it!” She beamed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside before you could even respond. “About time. I was starting to think I’d have to drag you here myself.”

You laughed. “You would have tried.”

“Obviously,” she teased as she took the wine bottle from you. “Now go get a drink. Just—“ she shot a look towards the kitchen where Klara was waving a bright green drink in Georgia’s face, “maybe don’t let Klara talk you into whatever she’s making.”

You promised to steer clear, but as turned towards the living room, Lena’s familiar figure caught your eye.

Sitting on the arm of the sofa, beer in hand, she caught your gaze and lifted her solo cup in a silent greeting.

You and Lena weren’t exactly close. However, your midfield partnership was solid. You understood each other’s movements, and trusted each other in tight spaces. But off the pitch? Your interactions had always been brief—causal words in passing, although she had a sharp wit that always kept you on your toes.

And you were slowly warming up to her.

“I honestly didn’t expect to see you here,” she smirked, her voice carrying a hint of surprise as she stretched out her arm in an inviting gesture for a quick embrace.

“Why’s that?” you replied amusement crept into your voice, as you sunk into her warm embrace, feeling the softness of her sweater against your cheek.

She shrugged. “You don’t usually do the whole team bonding thing outside of training.”

“I do.” You tilted your head. “Sometimes.”

Lena’s smile widened as she pushed off the sofa. “Alright, then prove it. Play Jenga with me.”

Gesturing towards the coffee table, where a precariously stacked Jenga tower stood, the game already mid-progress. Georgia was up, hands steady as she carefully pulled out a block. The moment she placed it on top, Giulia—ever the troublemaker, bumped her shoulder just hard enough to send the entire thing crashing down.

“You’re kidding,” Georgia groaned as the room erupted in laughter.

Lena leaned in, voice low. “Think we can do better?”

Your pulse stuttered at her closeness, but you forced yourself to focus. “Obviously.”

So you played.

At first, it was just a casual game, with teammates cheering you both on, but then it became a challenge. Just you and Lena, neither of you willing to back down. Every time she pulled out a block, her fingers would brush yours—maybe accidentally, maybe not. And every time you made a risky move, she’d grin at you like she was impressed.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were aware of the rest of the party continuing around you. Music, laughter, the occasional shouts from the kitchen as Klara tried to convince someone—anyone—to try her latest cocktail disaster. But here, in this little bubble of competition, it was just you and Lena.

The Jenga tower grew taller, the tension thick. You reach for a block near the middle, carefully wiggling it free. The second you placed it on top, Lena exhaled a low whistle.

“Not bad,” she murmured.

“You sound surprised.”

“Oh, I’m not.” She tapped her fingers against the table, considering her next move. “I know exactly how steady your hands are.”

The words sent a jolt of heat up your spine, though you weren’t entirely sure why.

The game ended a few rounds later when a risky move from Lena, sent the tower tumbling down. She grumbled, readjusting her ponytail as the rest of your teammates laughed, but she was still watching you, something in her expression indecipherable.

By the time Giulia called for a toast, the night had blurred into something easy, warm. Glasses clinked, voices filled the room, and Lena nudged your arm.

“Wanna get some air?”

You hesitated, just for a second, but then you nodded.

The cool night air was a relief as you stepped onto the balcony, the distant hum of Munich stretching out before you. Lena leaned against the ornate railing, her gaze flickering towards you.

“You having fun?” She asked.

“Surprising, yeah.” You huffed a laugh.

“Told you it wouldn’t kill you to socialise.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

Falling into a comfortable silence, Lena shifted, her shoulder brushing yours. “You know,” she began, voice softer now, “you’re different when you’re not so focused on football.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “You’re just…lighter. It’s nice.”

Your stomach flipped.

You didn’t know what to say to that. You weren’t even sure what she meant, not really, but there was something about the way she was looking at you. Like she was seeing something no one else did, making your heart crawl its way up to your throat.

And then, before you could think too hard about it, you nudged her. “I like this side of you too.”

Lena raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The words hung between you, heavy with something neither of you had put a name to yet.

Lena’s gaze flitted down—to your lips, just for a second—and your pulse skyrocketed.

But she didn’t close the distance.

Instead, she reached for your hand, fingers brushing hesitantly before settling against yours. Not quite lacing together, but not pulling away either.

You heart pounded, hearing the pulse in your ears.

Another second passed as the balcony door burst open, and Klara stumbled out, drink in hand, oblivious to whatever moment had been forming.

“Oh, there you are,” she said, eyes flicking between you and Lena. “We’re playing Uno. You two in?”

You blinked, still trying to catch up to reality. Lena glanced at you, something amused flickering across her face, before she finally pulled her hand away.

“Yeah,” she said. “We’re in.”

Klara grinned, already heading back inside.

Lena exhaled, turning back to you, her voice low. “This isn’t over,” she murmured.

And then she was gone, leaving you standing there, heartbeat unsteady, wondering what the hell had just happened.

[seulgisqt]

𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋 — ona batlle

ona batlle x barça!reader

(a/n: I don’t know what this is but I enjoyed writing it ijbol, a lot of dialogue and very much written from ona’s perspective (no use of ‘I’ though dw), wanted to expand but I felt that it was gonna be long winded yk, but I hope you enjoy this short read ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎)

word count: 1104

genre: fluff

summary: she came back to Barcelona for football, but staying for her neighbour doesn’t seem like a bad idea either.

Ona placed the last box on the floor with a satisfied sigh, hands on her hips as she surveyed her new apartment. The place smelled like fresh paint and new beginnings, as the sunlight poured through the wide balcony doors, illuminating the scattered boxes that still needed unpacking. It was nothing fancy, just a cosy space close to the training grounds, but hers nonetheless.

Finally, back in Barcelona.

Finally, home.

She had barely taken a sip of water when she heard movement outside. A key turning in a lock. The soft shuffle of footsteps. Curious, Ona set down her bottle and stepped towards the door, peeking into the hallway just as her new neighbour came into view.

That was when she saw you.

A familiar face, too familiar. She played against you plenty of times, but never together. You had been with Barça for years, a key piece in their midfield, known for your precision and cool-headed control of the game. Ona had always admired you from a distance, but you had never been the type to indulge in small talk or casual friendships.

Still, you were standing right there, juggling two grocery bags in one hand and your keys in the other.

Ona took the opening.

“Hey, neighbour.”

Your head tilted ever so slightly, and your piercing gaze swept over Ona, lingering momentarily on her features, her hair was dishevelled, with a pink flush across her cheeks. Ona felt a flutter of apprehension, preparing for the customary polite but detached reply that often accompanied such encounters.

But then—

“You finally made it,” you said, your voice low and steady, holding an unexpected warmth.

Ona blinked in surprise, her heart quickening. “You knew I was moving in?” she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

“It’s been a rumour in the locker room for weeks.”

That made Ona laugh. “Guess I can’t surprise anyone then.”

You didn't laugh, but there was a small shift in your expression–just the tiniest quirk of your lips. Despite yourself, you were amused. Turning back to your door, you unlock it smoothly. Ona expected that to be the end of the conversation, but just as you pushed the door open, you hesitated.

Then, without looking up, you asked, “Have you eaten?”

Ona tilted her head. “Not since this morning.”

You exhaled through your nose, almost like you had expected that answer. “There’s a great tapas place down the street.” A brief pause. “If you want, I can show you.”

Ona raised an eyebrow, intrigue sparking in her gaze. “Like a welcome dinner?”

“Something akin to that,” you replied, a subtle smile teasing at the corners of your lips as you propped the door open with your foot, allowing the cool breeze to flutter in.

The invitation caught her off guard, but Ona's adventurous spirit wouldn’t let her decline. “Just give me five minutes,” she said, a playful grin spreading across her face. You nodded in agreement, feeling her eyes linger on you as you slipped into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you.

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself nestled at a small corner table in a bustling, dimly lit restaurant, only a stroll from your building. The ambience was infused with a gentle warmth and laughter that wrapped around you like a welcoming embrace, hinting at the delightful familiarity of the place. It was clear this gem was a beloved haunt among locals, its charm radiating from the rustic decor and the savoury aromas wafting from the kitchen, promising a cosy evening ahead.

“You come here a lot?” Ona asked, eyeing the menu.

You leaned back in your chair, fiddling with your fork. “It’s quiet. Good food.” Keeping it short and sweet.

Ona smirked. “You don’t like noise?”

“I like peace,” you corrected, taking a sip of water.

The brunette regarded you for a moment, a spark of curiosity flickering in her eyes. You stood there, composed and unshakeable, radiating the same cool confidence that you exuded on the pitch. There was an undeniable allure in your serene demeanour that made it difficult for her to look away.

“So,” Ona began, her voice laced with playful intrigue, “what’s with the sudden friendliness towards the new neighbour? I thought you had a reputation for being the chilly one.”

A wry smile graced your lips as you shot her a flat glance. “I’m not cold.”

She lifted an eyebrow, leaning in with a teasing smirk, her chin cradled in her hand. “You might want to reconsider that. People do call you cold, you know.”

You let out a soft huff, a dismissive shake of your head. “People talk too much.”

Ona leaned back slightly, her smile widening. “But here you are. With me.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘cold.’”

“You’re persistent.” You exhaled through your nose.

Almost a laugh—but not quite, the defender thought.

“You’ll get used to it.” Ons shrugged, eyes gleaming.

The waiter arrived before you could respond, setting down plates of patatas bravas, croquetas, and pan con tomate. Ona reached for a croqueta first, humming in approval as she took a bite.

“You were right,” she said, mouth still half-full. “This place is good.”

You gave her a knowing look. “Told you.”

The conversation flowed much easier as the evening went on. You didn’t say much, but when you did, your words were deliberate and thoughtful. Ona found herself drawn to it—the way you listened, to the rare flickers of amusement in your dark eyes when she said something particularly ridiculous.

By the time you two left the restaurant, the city fell into its nighttime rhythm. The streets were quieter, lights casting a golden glow against the pavement.

The silence was comfortable as you both walked back towards your apartment building. Ona peeked at you, hands tucked in her pockets. “You know, I think I’m going to like it here.”

You glanced at her briefly before looking ahead again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ona nodded, smiling.

You hesitated before responding, but in that fleeting moment, Ona noticed a shift in your gaze. There was a newfound warmth, a subtle softness that enveloped your expression like a gentle breeze. It was almost imperceptible, yet it carried an unspoken understanding that caught her off guard.

“You’re not so bad, Batlle.” You murmured.

Ona chuckled. “Careful. That almost sounded like a compliment.”

You shook your head, but this time, there was no mistaking the quiet smile that tugged your lips.

Maybe moving back to Barcelona wasn’t about coming home.

Maybe, just maybe, it was about finding something new.

Or someone.

[seulgisqt]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 — alessia russo

alessia russo x chelsea!engwnt!reader

(a/n: it’s been real quiet over here, fighting uni with zero weapons so here’s a piece for my blondie cause as i procrastinate)

word count: 1219

genre: fluff

summary: you weren’t friends, barely teammates, but alessia couldn’t help leaving small pieces of herself in your orbit

Alessia wasn’t sure when it started, but she knew it wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

Maybe it was during one of your first England training camps together, when you had stood at the edge of the group, arms crossed, listening intently, unsure of where you belonged. Or maybe it was during a game, when you—elegant, composed and Chelsea-blue—had taken the ball under pressure, turned past two players, and threaded a pass Alessia had only just managed to chase down.

She told herself it was nothing—just admiration, just curiosity. But admiration didn’t make her glance across the dinner table at you more than she should. Curiosity didn’t explain the way she tuned into conversation when you spoke, even if she wasn’t part of them. And it definitely didn’t explain why she kept looking for small ways to exist in your orbit.

She wasn’t aiming to stand out or draw attention to herself. In fact, the blond girl was doing her utmost to blend into the background, to remain unnoticed. Yet, there was something about you, something captivating and magnetic, that compelled her to extend her hand, despite the tug of hesitation in her chest.

Except, maybe her efforts weren’t unnoticed.

One night, after training, when Alessia draped her hoodie over the bench like usual, right where you had been sitting earlier. She found it neatly folded on her kit bag after dinner.

No note, no acknowledgement. Just a quiet return.

Alessia stared at it, fingers brushing over the soft fabric like it could tell her something, and for the first time, she wondered if you had been noticing all along.

You had noticed. You weren’t sure when, exactly, but you had.

At first, it had been small things. A fresh water bottle appearing next to your bag. An extra energy bar left on the bench. The seat next to yours on the bus never staying empty for long. You didn’t think much of it—you weren’t the most social on the team, and Alessia was friendly with everyone.

But then, it kept happening. And not just with everyone. With you.

You were unaccustomed to such attention. At Chelsea, you'd cultivated a reputation for being somewhat aloof, an enigma wrapped in quiet composure. The atmosphere around you was rarely charged with fanfare; instead, it was filled with subtle gestures of kindness. People didn't dote on you, but they acknowledged your presence with delicate nods and thoughtful smiles, leaving you to navigate your world with a sense of calm detachment.

But Alessia did.

Perhaps you had been feigning ignorance of the situation, unsure of how to handle the sudden focus being directed toward you.

Then came the hoodie.

It was unmistakably Alessia’s, exuding a comforting aroma reminiscent of freshly washed fabric intertwined with a delicate hint of honeysuckle. When you first laid eyes on it, carelessly draped over the weathered wooden bench, you felt a moment of hesitation wash over you. The cool, crisp air nipped at your skin, reminding you how desperately you wanted to escape the chill. With a reluctant sigh, you reached out to grasp the soft fabric, craving warmth despite the conflicting emotions swirling within you.

You didn’t mean to keep it, but you did. At least for a while.

When you folded it and left it on Alessia’s bag that evening, it wasn’t rejection. It was something else—an acknowledgement. A quiet I see what you’re doing.

As dawn broke and you entered the training facility, the air hummed with anticipation. Your gaze swept across the room, catching the striker’s gaze. She met your eyes with a flicker of surprise, her brow slightly furrowed as if she were assessing the ground beneath her feet. There was a hint of caution in her stance, yet your heart caught at the spark of hope dancing in her expression.

In that charged silence, a question wormed its way into your mind: what if you took a leap and began to offer something in return?

You were never the type to act impulsively. Every decision you made, whether on or off the pitch, was approached with a sense of careful consideration. You prided yourself on being meticulous and measured. Yet, there was something about Alessia that compelled you to disregard your self-imposed limits.

It all began with the little things.

On that particular afternoon, as the bus rolled along the familiar route, Alessia settled into the seat beside you once again. Normally, you would have buried your attention in your phone, scrolling through messages or emails to tune out the world around you. But today was different. Instead of fixating on the glow of the screen, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at her. Just a quick peek, enough to notice how her slender fingers nervously toyed with the hem of her training shorts, pulling at the fabric as if it were a lifeline. Her brow was slightly furrowed, hinting at a whirlwind of thoughts that danced just out of reach, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the pull of curiosity.

When she passed you the water bottle after drills, your fingers lingered for a moment, the softest brush of skin sending an unexpected thrill up your arm.

Standing shoulder to shoulder on the sun-drenched training pitch, both of you watching as others took their turns in a finishing drill, you felt a surge of boldness. It was a moment charged with electricity, and you broke the silence, your voice slicing through the air like a sharp whistle.

"You don’t have to keep doing that, you know," you said, the words tumbling out with a reckless urgency that surprised even you.

Alessia turned to you, blinking. “Doing what?l

You raised a brow, tilting the water bottle in your hand. “This. The hoodie. The seat on the bus.”

For a fleeting moment, Alessia appeared on the verge of dismissal, contemplating brushing away the weight of the moment with one of those radiant smiles she effortlessly bestowed upon everyone around her. Yet, just as quickly, a subtle shift crossed her features—a hint of uncertainty that softened her gaze.

“I know,” Alessia said finally.

You nodded, a flicker of contemplation crossing your mind. You could let this moment fade away, slip through your fingers like all the others. But she didn’t allow that to happen.

Instead, you inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of the air fill your lungs as you held Alessia’s gaze, steady and unyielding. “I don’t mind,” you found yourself saying.

You were unsure where the courage had come from—perhaps it was the way Alessia seemed to freeze in place, her surprise evident in the delicate parting of her lips. But once the words escaped you, a newfound clarity washed over your heart, and you felt no remorse for your choice.

In an instant, you noticed how Alessia’s rigid shoulders began to soften, the tension that had coiled around her like a tight band slowly unravelling. It was as if a silent burden had been lifted. Her lips, once taut with uncertainty, began to curve ever so slightly at the corners, not quite forming a full smile, but lingering on the verge of one.

“Okay,” Alessia said, quiet. And then, a little bolder, “Good.”

You looked away before Alessia could see the way your pulse had picked up.

This was new. Different.

[seulgisqt]

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍 — lena oberdorf

lena oberdorf x dallas cowboys cheerleader!reader

(a/n: can you tell this is a british person who wrote this?? i’ve always had an odd obsession with those ladies so but anyways lena oberdorf, my shayla >_< I hope you enjoyed this one, i’m thinking of doing a two part for this, lemme know if you would like that and happy reading x)

word count: 1986

genre: fluff

summary: two different worlds, colliding in the most unexpected of places—yet somehow, it felt like they were exactly where they were meant to be.

As you adjusted your glittering blue uniform, the scorching Texas sun cast its unwavering gaze upon AT&T Stadium, making the atmosphere both electrifying and intense. The fabric of your outfit shimmered brilliantly, reflecting the light with every slight movement, and the heat enveloped you like a warm embrace. You stood tall and proud as the centrepiece of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, a position you had dreamt about since your earliest memories of watching those iconic routines on television, captivated by the energy and precision.

You were focused on tonight’s performance, where an international friendly match between the USWNT and Germany’s national team took place. It wasn’t every day a soccer match took over their football stadium, and you were eager to see how the crowd would react to the shift in energy.

Among the German players warming up was Lena, the star midfielder known for precision and aggression on the field. Lena was as disciplined as she was fearless—a footballer who’d grown up training in the rainy fields of Gevelsburg. She was fiercely proud of her roots, yet found herself intrigued by this massive, almost theatrical American sports culture.

The game unfolded with an intensity that crackled in the air, but amidst the thrumming excitement, Lena’s gaze was irresistibly drawn to the vibrant splashes of colour and dynamic movement spiralling down the staircases among the throngs of spectators. The cheerleaders, clad in striking uniforms that shimmered in the arena lights, led a fervent cacophony of cheers and chants that resonated through the crowd, their infectious energy sweeping over everyone present. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced back home, a captivating display of spirit and camaraderie that left her spellbound.

The halftime break arrived with a pulse of excitement rippling through the massive crowd. The game was tense, and the U.S. and German teams were locked in a fierce battle, but for the next few minutes, all eyes would be on you and the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders.

You took a deep breath, standing tall at the edge of the field, feeling the electric energy in the air. The opening chords of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck blasted through the speakers, and the crowd erupted. This was the routine—fast, furious, and legendary. The kind of performance that could make even the toughest sceptics believe in the art of cheerleading.

From the sideline, Lena sat on the bench in the technical area, water bottle forgotten in her hand. She has seen plenty of halftime shows in her career, but nothing like this. The music thumped in her chest as you sprang to life, every movement precise and explosive. Your hair whipped around as you launched into high kicks, your blue rhinestone-studded stars sparkled under the stadium lights.

The choreography was relentless. Sharp motions that synced perfected with the pounding drumbeat, pom-poms slicing through the air with military precision. You moved with such confidence, such undeniable magnetism, that Lena found herself frozen, mesmerised.

“They’re incredible, aren’t they?” Sara murmured beside her, but Lena barely heard. Her eyes were fixed on you, whose smile radiated pure joy, body moving with an effortless grace that only came from years of dedication. As you dropped into the squad’s signature kickline, the entire stadium roared in approval. You stole a glance towards the sideline—just for a second, and caught Lena watching you intently, eyes wide with admiration. A rush of heat flooded your chest, and you pushed yourself even harder, feeding off the connection you felt from across the field.

Lena’s heart pounded, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the way your energy seemed to wrap around her like a lasso. She had always thought football was the ultimate rush, but this? This was something else entirely. She watched you flip, spin, and land with flawless precision, your spirit seemingly untouchable.

As the routine built to its climactic finish with the cheerleaders launching into a gravity-defying jump split, the stadium shook with applause. Lena found herself cheering along with the crowd, a rare uninhibited smile breaking across her face. As the final notes of the music faded and you struck your last pose, breathing heavily but wearing a wide, triumphant grin, you turned your gaze toward the sideline once more. The vibrant energy around you was palpable, and your eyes locked with Lena's across the field, a connection forged amid the exhilarating chaos of the performance.

The stadium lights still burned bright long after the game had ended in a tense draw, the buzz of excitement still lingering in the air. You and your teammates lingered along the sidelines, feeling the residual adrenaline still coursing through your veins. But now, with the game over, you found yourself feeling oddly restless as you interacted with the young girls in the stands, helping them take photos with their fellow football idols.

Your eyes wandered across the field, where the German players were cooling down, stretching, and exchanging jerseys with their American counterparts. Among them was her, the striking brunette midfielder who had been impossible to ignore during the match. You had noticed Lena the moment she stepped onto the field, the fierce focus and effortless control of the ball captivating in a way that you hadn’t expected. And when she caught Lena watching the halftime performance, you felt something shift.

Lena, too, had felt it.

She was still replaying the halftime show in her head, the pounding rhythm of Thunderstruck echoing in her ears. German football culture was all about discipline and rigour, but what she witnessed was pure fire. And it fascinated her.

As Lena pulled off her sweat-drenched jersey and wiped her face with it, she spotted you standing by the tunnel, chatting with your teammates but glancing her way now and then. Summoning her courage, Lena handed her jersey off and made her way across the field.

Your stomach flipped when you realised Lena was heading your way, tall and athletic, her dark hair tousled from the game. You played it cool, offering a bright smile as Lena approached. “Nice performance,” Lena said in her slightly accented English, her lips curling into an easy, lopsided grin. “I didn't know football had…entertainment like that.”

You twirled a pom-pom absentmindedly as you laughed. “Well, soccer, not usually. But we like to put on a show here in Texas. Gotta give the fans something to cheer for, right?”

“But you were amazing out there. I’ve never seen someone control the game like you do.” You nudged her, pom-pom crinkling in hand.

Lena’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down, kicking at the turf. “Thanks,” she said softly, “but I think you might have beat me in the whole crowd control department.”

“Guess we both have our talents.” You winked.

There was a moment of silence, not awkward but filled with the weight of something new and intriguing. You shifted in your boots, then glanced towards the tunnel, hearing your directors call your name as well as Lena’s teammates calling out for her.

As you glanced back at Lena, a sense of urgency reflected in her captivating gaze. “Well, Lena, it was a pleasure meeting you,” you said, your voice tinged with a mix of warmth and urgency. “I hope you had a wonderful time in Dallas. Safe travels!” There was a sparkle in your eyes as you took one last look at her, committing her features to memory before you turned and jogged off toward your waiting coworkers, the lively chatter of the group drawing you back into the moment.

Before Lena could find the words to respond, you had already turned away, your footsteps quickening as you joined your teammates. The air between you felt heavy with unspoken feelings, and she let out a soft sigh, trying to suppress the flicker of disappointment that threatened to surface. Yet, deep down, she vowed to herself that this wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

You left your locker room cladded in your Cowboys sweats, boots clicking across the vinyl floor, on the hunt for the bathroom, using it as an excuse to get away from your prying teammates who questioned what happened between you and “that German girl.”

Turning a corner, you begin to hear the chatter of the German team, playful shrieks being thrown as you saw them file out of their locker room, you stood against the wall as the players walked past you, exchanging thank yous and goodbyes. Your eyes searched for Lena as she left the room, laughing with one of her teammates.

Her eyes lit up as she met yours, standing adjacent to you on the wall to allow her team to walk in front of the two of you. A couple of the ladies patted her shoulder with knowing glances as they walked past.

She appeared vibrant and youthful, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue that contrasted beautifully with her smooth complexion. Her hair was styled in a bun, showcasing the delicate contours of her face. “I knew you’d find me,” you teased with a smile, the words playful and light. As you both strolled side by side, each slow step felt deliberate, as if you were trying to savour every moment and stretch out the time spent together.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Lena said with a nonchalant shrug, her eyes darting momentarily away as a palpable silence settled between them. She hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting the strap of her bag, a subtle sign of her apprehension. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, as if weighing her next words carefully in the stillness.

“So, listen,” she said with an easy smile, “we’re having a little after-party tonight. Some of the team rented out a place downtown. You should come.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you halted your steps. For a moment, idea of letting loose, spending more time with Lena, and stepping outside the tight bubble of her DCC world was intoxicating. But then reality set in like a bucket of cold water.

The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders had strict rules about fraternisation with players, whether football or otherwise. No dating, no hanging out, no exceptions. Even though Lena wasn’t an NFL player, you knew it was a grey area that could get you in serious trouble. You had worked too hard to get here, sacrificed too much to risk it all for a night of fun—no matter how tempting Lena’s invitation was.

“I’d love to, really.” You bit your lip, as Lena’s eyes lit up. “But we have some…rules.” you said carefully, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Cheerleaders and players aren’t really supposed to hang out.”

Lena raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Even when it’s not your team?”

“Even then,” you sighed. “It’s a whole image thing. They want us to be, you know, untouchable or something.” You bounced your leg anxiously.

The tall brunette frowned, leaning in slightly. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, a hint of defiance in her voice. “We’re just people. It’s not like I’m asking you to break the law.”

You let out a small chuckle. “Try telling that to my directors. They’d have me benched for the rest of the season.”

Lena studied your face for a moment, then shrugged with a playful grin. “Okay. So, what if I promise to keep my distance? I mean, we could pretend I’m just a fan. I’ll even act starstruck if it helps.”

“You? Starstruck?” You couldn’t help but laugh “I’d love to see that.”

“Then come. Just for an hour.” Lena tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “I promise no one will even know we’re there together.”

You hesitated, torn between your cautious instincts and the undeniable pull towards Lena. Breaking the rules, even bending them, could cost you everything you had worked for. But then you looked at Lena, at the way she stood there, so open, so genuine—and something inside you whispered, take the chance.

[seulgisqt]

𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 — alexia putellas

alexia putellas x barcelona!reader

a/n: fun fact, I had actually cut the whole piece part in half, due to me feeling like it was getting long winded but also adding like 2000 more words cause I didn't like how I ended it ijbol, but it seems like you guys enjoyed it so here’s the rest of it \(^ヮ^)/

word count: 4164

genre: somewhat fluff with angsty tendencies

tw: emotional cheating

now playing: swim by renee rapp

part one

summary: trying to keep your heart in check, but alexia's charm finally slipped through the cracks

You were determined to put everything behind you. Arriving to training early, hoping that focusing on football would clear your head. Going through your routine with extra intensity, pushing yourself harder than usual, letting the rhythm of drills drown out the noise in your mind. 

But then Alexia arrived.

She walked onto the pitch with that effortless confidence, her hair tied back in a high ponytail, her sharp eyes scanning the field before landing on you. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Someone’s eager today,” the footballer called out as she jogged over, her confident stride matching the lively rhythm of the drill. In a swift motion, she fell into step beside you, her foot deftly stealing the ball from your control.

“Just trying to stay sharp,” you replied, forcing a casual shrug to mask the competitive spark within. With determination, you lunged forward, tackling the ball back into your possession.

Alexia’s gaze lingered on you, a thoughtful smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Good. I like that about you,” she remarked, her voice warm and encouraging.

You rolled your eyes, a playful grin breaking through your facade. “You like winning. And I help with that,” you shot back, a teasing edge in your tone as you both relished the friendly rivalry.

“True.  But I like a lot of things.”

You ignored the way that made your stomach twist and focused on the drill as Coach Romeu blew the whistle.

As training wrapped up, the team broke into groups, chatting and joking while stretching on the sidelines. You sat on the grass, taking light sips of your water when Mapi and Ingrid flopped down next to you. 

“You and Alexia seem to be getting along well,” Mapi teased, nudging you with her knee, “she’s been glued to your side lately.”

You maintained a calm and composed expression, letting no emotion escape as you replied, “She’s the captain. It’s her responsibility to ensure we feel at ease.” 

Ingrid leaned back, a smirk dancing across her lips, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Sure, but that’s not the impression she’s giving off,” she quipped, an eyebrow raised as if challenging your words.

You shook your head, a light laugh escaping your lips, dismissing their concerns. “You two are overanalysing the situation,” you said, trying to inject a sense of levity into the conversation.

But you could feel Alexia’s eyes on you from across the field.

After training, you ducked into the locker room early, hoping to avoid another one-on-one with Alexia. Moving quickly, you shoved your gear into your bag when you heard the familiar voice behind her. 

“Leaving so soon?”

You closed your eyes briefly before turning around. “Yeah, I’ve got things to do.”

“You’re always running off. What’s the rush?” Alexia leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, watching you with that same easy confidence.

You met her gaze once more. “Just…life outside football, you know?”

“You never really talk about it.”

“Not much to tell.” You shot back.

You felt the weight of the words. It wasn’t an accusation, but it sure felt like one. “You should let me take you out sometime. Show you what Barcelona is really like. Madrid has nothing compared to here.” The blonde suggested.

Your breath caught in your throat. There it was, undeniable, unmistakable. And for a brief moment, the idea of saying yes flickered in your mind. But Lucia’s face surfaced in your thoughts, and reality came crashing down.

“I…” you started, shaking your head, “I don’t really have time for that.”

Alexia studied you for a moment, as if searching for something beneath the polite refusal. Finally, she nodded, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

“Alright. But if you change your mind—” 

You found yourself cutting her off, the words spilling out before you could think them through. “—walk with me?” The request left your lips almost involuntarily, and you could hear the uncertainty in your own voice. You weren’t certain why you had asked; perhaps it was a longing for connection, or maybe a desperate attempt to ease the tension that hung between you like a heavy fog.

For a moment, you studied Alexia's face, noticing the flicker of hesitation that crossed her features. Time seemed to stretch as she weighed her options, the silence stretching uncomfortably. Finally, she nodded, the expression in her eyes shifting to one of reluctant agreement. “Yeah, alright.” The softness in her voice suggested a mixture of curiosity and caution, and you could feel a small rush of hope at her response.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over Barcelona, the streets settled into a serene ambience. The gentle murmur of conversations floated through the air as clusters of people began filtering out of offices, their footsteps echoing softly on the cobblestone pathways. An air of tranquillity enveloped the evening, punctuated only by the distant laughter from a nearby café. 

At this moment, the silence between you and Alexia felt comfortable at first, familiar like an old song. Yet, you couldn't shake the unsettling awareness of her gaze lingering on you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could sense her curiosity, her expression a blend of contemplation and intrigue amidst the fading light.

Eventually, she broke it. “You don’t have to tell me everything, you know. But…you can talk to me.”

You swallowed hard, the action sending a ripple of tension through your throat. Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag, a familiar habit when you felt exposed or vulnerable. Alexia stood before you, her eyes searching—probing deeper, trying to penetrate the thick walls you’d built around your heart. For a fleeting moment, you felt a flicker of temptation to let her in, to lower your defences and share the weight you carried.

But then, like a shadow creeping in, the image of Lucia flashed in your mind. You felt warmth spread through your chest as you remembered her infectious smile—bright and genuine, the kind that could melt the heaviest of hearts. You recalled the sound of her laughter, light and carefree, resonating like music in your soul. Lucia had always been your anchor, offering unwavering love and support without hesitation, regardless of the storms you encountered.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I appreciate it.” The sincerity of your words felt like a fragile bridge between you and Alexia, one that you weren’t sure you wanted to cross.

Alexia nodded slowly, her expression a blend of concern and understanding, unreadable like a closed book. “Alright. Just…don’t keep yourself locked up too tight, chica.” Her tone was gentle yet firm, as if she was trying to impart wisdom born from her own experiences. As you turned to part ways, you felt the weight of her words settle deep in your chest, resonating like a long-forgotten melody.

You were left grappling with the meaning behind her statement. Was it a warning—an acknowledgement of the danger in isolation—or perhaps an invitation to open up, to let someone in amidst the chaos? Maybe it was a combination of both, a call to find balance in a world that had often felt too heavy to bear alone.

Later that night, Lucia’s messages were waiting for you, but you hesitated before picking it up.

You typed out a quick message: Hey, sorry, it’s been a long day. Miss you.

Almost immediately, your girlfriend replied: I miss you too. Are you okay?

Staring at the blinking cursor, you paused. You could tell Lucia. You should tell Lucia, about Alexia, about the way things were starting to feel…complicated. But what would you even say?

Instead, you typed: Yeah. Just tired.

You told yourself that you weren’t doing anything wrong. It was just training. Just football. Just Alexia being Alexia. 

But the truth was, you felt yourself softening. It was in the little things. The way you didn’t always pull away when Alexia got too close, the way you found yourself looking forward to the moments alone after training, the way your heart didn’t hammer in panic anymore when she teased you. Instead, it did something worse. It fluttered.

It wasn’t like you meant to let it happen. It just…did.

After another late training session, Alexia caught up with you outside the locker room. The sun setting over the stadium, casting long shadows across the field, and you were in no hurry to leave. “Come on, I’m starving. Let’s grab something to eat.” Alexia nudged your arm, matching your slow pace. You wavered, but this time, it wasn’t immediate. The excuses that usually came so easily, I have things to do, I should call Lucia, I should keep my distance, felt weaker. “Okay,” you said before you could overthink it. Just dinner, nothing more.

Sitting across from Alexia in a quiet little cafe tucked away in the heart of Barcelona, you felt yourself relaxing in a way you hadn’t expected. Talking about football, about music, about the things you missed from home. You had laughed more than you had in weeks, and for a little while, you forgot about the gnawing guilt in your chest.

“You’re different when you’re off the pitch,” Alexia observed at one point, watching you closely, sitting opposite you. 

“What do you mean?” You blinked.

Alexia shrugged. “You seem…lighter. Less guarded.” 

“I guess I just focus a lot when we’re training.” You felt your stomach twist.

The footballer leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “Yeah, but you don’t have to do that with me, you know.” she poured herself water from the ceramic jug. “So, who’s the mysterious someone?”

“It’s nothing,” You stumbled over your words, heart stuttering. “Nobody, even.”

And at that moment, you thought about Lucia, About how easy things used to be. About how complicated they felt now. Alexia didn’t press, just smiled and changed the subject, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Alexia was waiting—for something, for her.

And you were starting to wonder if you were waiting too.

Later that night, you lay on your sofa, barely focused on the telenovela playing on your TV. Your phone buzzed in your hand, Lucia. You hesitated before picking it up. 

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Hey,” Lucia’s voice was warm and familiar, but you felt an ache deep in your chest at how far away it sounded. “I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

You closed your eyes. “Never.”

Lucia laughed softly. “You okay? You’ve been quiet lately.”

“Yeah, just…training’s been a lot.” You bit your lip. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the full truth either.

“I get it,” Lucia said gently. “I miss you though.”

“I miss you too,” you whispered, but even as you said it, you couldn’t shake the memory of Alexia’s smile from your mind.

You woke up the next morning with a heavy weight in your chest. The events of the past few days played over and over in your head as you stared at the ceiling. Alexia’s teasing words, the way she lingered too close, the way you let it happen.

It had to stop.

You couldn’t keep toeing this delicate line, couldn’t continue to disguise the reality of your feelings. The gentle cadence of Lucia’s voice lingered in your mind, a soft and warm reminder from last night’s call: “I miss you.” You had echoed her sentiment in return, yet an unsettling doubt had begun to creep in; did you truly mean it the same way anymore? The mere contemplation of that question sent a shiver of dread coursing through you.

As you pulled into the parking lot for training, resolve washed over you like a tide. You knew what you needed: distance. A break from Alexia. A breath away from whatever confusing emotions were brewing between you and her. The weight of your decision felt both heavy and liberating, a beacon guiding you toward a clearer path in the midst of the emotional fog.

Alexia noticed immediately. During passing drills, you were efficient and precise—but distant. No small smiles, no stolen glances, no playful banter. Just football. At first, she brushed it off, assuming you were just having an off day. But as training went it, it became impossible to ignore. When she tried to nudge your shoulder during water breaks, you shifted away. When she joked with you after a goal, you only nodded stiffly and jogged back to position.

By the end of the session, Alexia was frowning, watching you grab your things from the locker without so much as a word. “Chica,” Alexia called out, catching up to you just outside the stadium, “what’s going on?” 

You kept your eyes on the pavement. “Nothing. Just tired.”

Alexia studied you, unconvinced. “Come on. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Your jaw tightened.

“Shut me out,” Alexia said delicately. “Did I do something?”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet Alexia’s gaze, and for a moment, you felt that same familiar pull, the one you’d been trying so hard to ignore. But you couldn’t let herself fall into it again. 

“We’re teammates, Alexia,” you said, your voice carefully measured. “That’s all this is. And I think we should keep it that way.”

Something flickered in the footballer’s eyes. Surprise, disappointment, something else that you couldn’t name.

“You don’t really believe that.” Alexia scoffed.

You tightened your fists at your sides, a fierce burn igniting behind your ribs as adrenaline coursed through you. “I do.” Alexia's gaze bored into yours, searching your expression with an intensity that felt almost tangible, as if she was peeling back layers to discern whether you were hiding the truth. Perhaps you were—just a sliver of it.

“Alright,” she finally relented, stepping back, the distance between you feeling monumental. “If that’s what you truly want.”

You nodded, the sharp edge of resolve mingling with a piercing sting in your chest that deepened with every passing moment. Turning away, you felt the weight of each step press down upon you, dragging your heart along with it. But just as the space between you widened, Alexia's voice cut through the air, softer now, tinged with what seemed like regret. “You know,” she said, her words lingering like an echo in the silence, “you can run from this all you want. But it won’t change how you feel.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a lump forming as you fought the urge to turn back. Instead, you continued moving forward, each footfall heavy and deliberate, with the sensation of an invisible anchor pulling you down.

You thought that putting distance between you and Alexia would make things easier.

It didn’t.

Lucia’s messages became more frequent, and you would respond quickly, forcing yourself to engage, to remind yourself where you belonged. You told her you loved her, that you missed her, and tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest when you said it. 

But despite your best efforts, Alexia was always there.

Days passed, then weeks, and the tension only grew. Alexia didn’t push anymore, no teasing remarks, no lingering looks, no casual touches that sent your heart into overdrive. She respected your decision, and that should have made you feel relieved. Instead, it felt worse. Because now, Alexia was cold too. She was still kind, still professional, but she didn’t seek you out like she used to. During drills, she passed the ball to you with the same precision as always, but without the usual grin that came with it. In the locker room, she sat with the others, laughing and chatting, but never near you.

It was exactly what you wanted. So why did it feel like a loss?

One night, you called Lucia. The moment you heard her voice, warm and full of love, you felt a pang of guilt.

“Hey, you,” Lucia started gently. “I was hoping you’d call earlier.”

You smiled faintly. “Yeah, training ran late.” The excuse you would repeat to her constantly in the past was now a reason.

“You’re always working so hard,” Lucia murmured. “I wish I could be there with you.”

You closed your eyes, the familiar ache settling in. “Me too.”

But even as you said it, your mind drifted, to the way Alexia had looked at her earlier, an unreadable expression in her eyes when you crossed paths in the gym. The way you had felt that pull again, despite everything.

“Are you okay?” Lucia asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

You swallowed. “Yeah. Just tired.”

A pause. Then, softly, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know.” You nodded even though Lucia couldn’t see you.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The following day, you avoided Alexia all morning, keeping to yourself, focusing on your drills, and when training ended, you planned to slip away quickly. But as you turned the corner towards the locker room, almost colliding with the blonde.

“Whoa,” Alexia breathed, her fingers wrapping around your arm with surprising urgency just as you were about to retreat. “In a hurry to get away?”

Your heart pounded in your chest at her touch, a jolt of electricity racing through you, but you fought to keep your expression steady. “Yeah, I just need to—”

“Talk to me?” Alexia cut in, her grip softening but still lingering as if reluctant to let you go. “Because I honestly think we should.”

Her tone shifted, turning serious as she leaned in slightly, the playful atmosphere fading. “Listen, I get it. You’ve got someone in your life, and I respect that. But it feels like you’re trying to push me away as if I don’t even matter.”

“I’m not trying to—” Guilt clawed at your throat, the weight of her words sinking in.

“You are,” she asserted, crossing her arms tightly and leaning against the doorframe, her posture radiating both defiance and vulnerability. “You've been avoiding me, and it shows. But if this is the way you want it, I won’t fight back. I just want you to be honest—with me and with yourself.”

“What do you want me to say, Alexia? I am being honest. I’m with Lucia, and I don’t want to jeopardize that,” you shot back, the frustration bubbling over as you met her gaze, the intensity causing you to realize only then that you had said Lucia's name out loud.

Alexia’s expression hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I hope she’s worth it,” she said sharply, pushing off the doorframe and creating a palpable distance between you. The tension in the air thickened like a storm on the horizon.

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you staring at the empty space where she stood.

You hadn’t meant to miss training. 

The first day, you told yourself you just needed a break, one morning to clear your head. But then one day turned into two, and then three, and by the time the fourth day rolled around, you couldn’t face the idea of walking back onto the pitch and pretending everything was fine.

Your phone buzzed constantly with messages from the team, from Mapi, Ingrid, and even coach Romeu. But you ignored them all. Except for one.

Alexia: Where are you? You okay?

Simple. Direct. No teasing, no pressure. 

You stared at the message a little while longer before locking your phone and curling deeper into the sofa. You didn’t know how to answer, you barely knew what you wanted anymore.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the streets of Barcelona as the evening chill settled in. Alexia stood outside your apartment door, her breath forming small clouds in the crisp air. She raised her hand and knocked with a delicate yet firm knock once, then twice. Silence enveloped her, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Just as she lifted her hand to knock again, the door creaked open a fraction, revealing you on the other side. The faint light illuminated your face, highlighting the deep shadows under your tired eyes, a testament to sleepless nights. You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sight of her. “What are you doing here?” you murmured, the words barely escaping your lips as surprise washed over you.

Alexia crossed her arms. “You weren’t answering your phone. And you’ve missed training.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “I just…needed some time.”

“Can I come in?” Alexia softened.

You paused, the weight of indecision settling in your chest, before reluctantly stepping aside. Alexia entered the room, her gaze sweeping over the shadowy expanse of the apartment. The soft glow of the single light bulb illuminated the chaos, a tangle of cosy, crumpled blankets draped carelessly over the sofa as if they had been cast aside in a moment of weariness. Scattered around the coffee table were an assortment of half-eaten takeout containers, remnants of forgotten meals that spoke to long nights and untamed hunger. An unmistakable sense of fatigue lingered in the air, wrapping around the room like a heavy blanket, amplifying the atmosphere of exhaustion that hung in every corner.

“Do you want to me what’s going on?” Alexia asked softly as she perched on the armrest of the worn sofa, her presence both comforting and disarming. You couldn't quite fathom why she continued to show you such kindness despite the way you had been acting over the past few months. As you sank deeper into the plush cushions, a heavy sigh escaped your lips, a mix of frustration and resignation. “I’ve been feeling… off,” you confessed, searching for the right words. “I thought maybe taking some time for myself would help clear my head.”

Alexia tilted her head, studying you. “And? Has it?”

You wavered before shaking your head. “No. Not really.”

There was a beat of silence before Alexia leaned forward, her tone soft but firm. “Come with me.”

“What?” You frowned.

“You need to get out of here,” Alexia said, standing up and offering a hand. “You need a distraction. You still haven’t taken up my offer to show you around Barcelona, remember?”

You stared at Alexia’s outstretched hand. You know you should say no. You should tell her to leave and call Lucia instead. However, you found yourself nodding slowly, placing your hand in Alexia’s.

“Okay,” you mumbled, “give me 10 minutes.”

Alexia smiled, giving your fingers a small squeeze before pulling you up. “I know just the place.”

The city was alive this evening, bustling with tourists and locals alike. Alexia took you through winding streets of the Gothic Quarter, stopping at hidden cafes and scenic overlooks with the ease of someone who had grown up here. 

You walked along the beach, the waves lapping softly at the shore, and you found yourself breathing easier for the first time in days. 

“So,” Alexia said, kicking at the sand lightly. “Feeling better?”

You glanced at her, a small smile tugging at your lips, “Yeah. I am.”

“Told you I was good at distractions.” the Spaniard grinned.

You playfully rolled your eyes, but for once, you didn’t feel the usual resistance tugging at your chest. As you both made your way back through the narrow streets, Alexia suddenly stopped in front of a small gelato shop. “Okay, this place? Best in the city.” 

You chuckled. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true,” Alexia shot back, dragging you inside.

You sat outside with your gelato, the city lights twinkling around you, as you sat on the cobblestone street, you took in the scent of flowers in the distance.

“You’re different tonight,” Alexia watched you carefully. “In a good way.”

You exhaled, staring down at your half-eaten gelato. “I think I just got tired of fighting it.”

Alexia’s eyes softened. “Fighting what?”

You met her gaze, and for the first time in weeks, you didn’t look away. “You.”

The air between you shifted, heavy and electric. Alexia set her spoon down and leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “Cariña…”

Before you could fully process the moment, you stepped closer, bridging the gap that had kept you apart. With a tender urgency, your lips found Alexia’s in a soft, tentative kiss, a gentle exploration tinged with a hint of watermelon sweetness lingering on her lips. The initial uncertainty quickly melted away as Alexia began to respond, awakening something deep within you that had been tightly wound and yearning to be released. When you finally broke the kiss, the world around you seemed to pause, and Alexia leaned into you, resting her head against your shoulder. A soft, breathless laugh escaped her lips, light and airy, as if the weight of unspoken words had lifted. “So…does this mean you’re finally done running?” she asked, her voice a teasing whisper enveloped in warmth.

You smiled, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. “Yeah, I think I am.”

And for the first time, you didn’t feel guilty.

[seulgisqt]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐄 — aitana bonmatí

aitana bonmatí x fem!espwnt!lyon!reader

a/n: accidentally deleted this when I wanted to edit it ಠ_ಠ (I hate tumblr), so if you feel like you’ve seen this before, you have, just leave a like and keep stepping

word count: 1245

genre: fluff

summary: an adorable aitana meet cute

On a breezy spring afternoon in Barcelona, the cosy bookshop cafe Letras Vivas buzzed with its usual charm. Tucked away on a quiet side street, a haven for readers and coffee lovers alike. The warm aroma of roasted beans mingled with the soft rustle of pages being turned and the occasional tinkling of laughter from patrons. The cafe was the kind of place where time seemed to slow, where strangers might strike up conversations over dog-eared novels or debate the best way to make a cortado.

You step inside, grateful for the reprieve from the city’s lively streets. The team had arrived in Barcelona a few days early to acclimate before the upcoming Champions League final. The pressure was immense – two giants of women’s football going head-to-head – but you had sought this little sanctuary for some peace. As much as you thrive on competition, moments like these were a way to offer clarity amidst the chaos.

Clad in a casual, well-worn shirt and a pair of faded jeans, you seemed a world away from the electrifying football star celebrated in the vibrant match posters that adorned the streets of Lyon. As you moved through the dimly lit bookstore, your fingers delicately glided over the spines of countless books lining the shelves near the entrance, occasionally pausing to absorb the titles that beckoned softly. Your gaze eventually landed on a novel, its cover a breathtaking watercolour that captured the charm of a seaside town, an irresistible pull urging you to pull it from the shelf and delve into its world.

At the counter, Aitana Bonmatí, FC Barcelona’s fiery midfielder, was already ordering her cappuccino. The barista seemed charmed by Aitana’s easy banter, her quick wit and warm laugh lighting up the space. She exuded the kind of confidence that came from knowing you were exactly where you belonged. The distinctive red-and-blue hoodie with Barça’s crest proudly displayed was casually slung over her shoulders, and drew occasional glances, but most were too polite to approach her.

As you approached the counter, Aitana turned, her grin wide and inviting, her hazel eyes bright with recognition. It took you a heartbeat to place her–you had seen that grin a hundred times before, from game footage to interviews to across the pitch. The face of Barcelona’s squad and one the most formidable centres in the game. And in just three days, your opponent. Once again.

Aitana didn’t miss the split second of hesitation that flickered across your face, and she seized the opportunity to break the ice with a playful energy. “Hey,” she said, her voice warm and laced with just a hint of mischief. “Nice to see you off the pitch.”

You blinked, caught slightly off guard but managing a smile. “Oh, uh, hi. Didn’t expect to run into you here.” Your Andalusian accent was unmistakable, and Aitana’s grin grew wider.

“You Lyon players just can’t resist the good spots, huh?” Aitana quipped, leaning casually against the counter. Her eyes flicked to the book in your hand. “Good choice. That’s one of my favourites.”

You raised an eyebrow, holding up the book. “Really? You’ve read it?”

Aitana’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm as she nodded, her ponytail swaying rhythmically with her head. “You won’t believe how captivating it is! It unfolds in this charming little fishing village—teeming with intense drama, sweeping love stories, and heart-wrenching heartbreak… it’s absolutely everything you could want! Imagine it like football, but infused with much more romance and way fewer tackles!”

A smile crept across your face as you placed the book on the counter, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. “I’ll take your word for it, but relying on my opponent’s taste in literature? That feels like a risky move!”

“Oh, come on! Today, we’re not opponents at all!” The mischievous glint in Aitana’s eyes mirrored her playful smirk. “We’re just two enthusiasts who appreciate fine coffee and extraordinary tales.”

The barista expertly crafted Aitana’s cappuccino, the velvety foam adorned with an artful heart-shaped swirl that seemed to float above the cup. Instead of making a beeline for the door, Aitana lingered, her presence radiating warmth and curiosity as she patiently waited for you to finish your order, the air around you charged with an electric sense of connection. When you joined her at a nearby table, your conversation flowed with surprising ease.

Listening intently, as Aitana, ever the local, effortlessly wove stories about her childhood in Vilanova. Her voice softened as she talked about watching games at Camp Nou as a kid, her dreams of one day playing on the same pitch now a reality. She pointed out a few must-visit spots within Barcelona, her favourite tapas bar tucked away in El Born and a rooftop terrace with breathtaking views of the city at sunset.

It was your turn to share, Aitana leaned in, intrigued as you painted a picture of life in France. Your voice gained a quiet pride as you described Lyon’s relentless training culture—the way it pushed everyone to their limits and brought out the best in them. The early morning drills in the pouring rain, late-night strategy sessions, and the camaraderie that came from working with some of the best players in the game.

“So you’re telling me you actually enjoy those gruelling training sessions? Compared to the easiness of Madrid?” The brunette questioned.

“It’s not about enjoying them, exactly.” You shrugged, your smile softening. “It’s about knowing they make me better. And there’s something fun about the discipline, the way it transforms you. Being at Real Madrid, I never had that.” You finished.

Aitana nodded thoughtfully, her playful demeanour giving way to a moment of genuine admiration. “I get that,” she said. “I think that’s why I love playing here—Barcelona’s always pushed me to be more, too.”

Her words hung between the two of you, a shared understanding unspoken but felt. Despite the teams you represented and the rivalry that defined you two season after season. You were both, at your cores, not so different. For a moment, the looming match disappeared, replaced by the quiet connection of two people who understood what it meant to give everything to the sport they loved.

“So,” Aitana began, cradling her cup, her tone suddenly teasing, “how’s Lyon feeling about Saturday? Ready to lose?”

You leaned forward, a playful spark in your eyes. “Confident enough to say you’ll be the one losing.” you shot back. Your laughter mingled, drawing a few curious glances from other patrons, but neither of you seemed to care, bantering for what felt like hours.

As the sun began to dip, casting the cafe in a warm golden glow, you both reluctantly stood to leave. Outside, the streets buzzed with life, the distant hum of a guitar echoing from a nearby plaza.

At the door, Aitana paused, turning to you with a smile softer than her usual confident smirk. “You know,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “maybe after the match, we should grab a coffee again. No rivalries—just books and good company.”

You tilted your head, cheeks dimpling into a grin. “Deal. But only if Lyon wins.”

Aitana laughed, backing away towards the bustling street, her voice carrying over the noise. “We’ll see about that!”

As you walked in opposite directions, you felt a strange lightness—a fleeting connection sparked by chance, lingering even as you prepared to face her on one of the biggest stages in football.

[seulgisqt]

𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃 — mapi león

mapi león x reader

(a/n: ugh my first fic for my barça babe ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ finally was able to finish this cause I actually enjoyed writing this so I hope you guys enjoy it too <3)

word count: 1329

genre: fluff

summary: maybe a little chaos wasn't the worst thing, especially when it came with a motorcycle and mapi's laughter in the wind

You sat at your desk, posture immaculate, eyes skimming over her laptop screen as you meticulously edited your latest feature on the highly anticipated Copa de la Reina. Every sentence was subjected to your rigorous examination, and every word was weighed. In the world of Journalism, reputation was paramount, and you had painstakingly crafted yours through unwavering accuracy, thoughtful balance, unyielding fairness, and a steadfast commitment to professionalism.

Across the small, cluttered living room of your shared apartment, your girlfriend, Mapi lounged on the well-worn sofa, her body sprawled in a way that disregarded any notion of good posture. She flipped through a stack of team meeting notes with an air of nonchalance, the crinkle of the paper punctuating the otherwise quiet space. Her mismatched socks, a vibrant pink on one foot and a dull grey on the other added a touch of whimsy to her otherwise casual appearance. A curious smudge, perhaps remnants of a late-night snack, lingered on her cheek, resembling chocolate, giving her a carefree and slightly messy charm. Meanwhile, you tapped away furiously at your laptop, the rhythmic clattering of keys contrasting sharply with her relaxed demeanour, creating a subtle tension in the air.

“You’re frowning again,” Mapi said without looking up, her voice tinged with amusement, “that means you’re overthinking.”

Not bothering to glance away from the screen, you sighed, “I’m not overthinking, I’m being thorough.”

“Mm-hmm.” Mapi hummed softly, her eyes fluttering as she tossed her notes to the side. She stretched her arms above her head, her muscles arching gracefully. “You’re so thorough that you’ve rewritten that sentence, what, five times now?” She smirked playfully, a hint of amusement dancing in her voice. 

“It’s four, actually.” Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you shot Mapi a pointed look.

Your girlfriend’s lips curled into a playful grin, her bright eyes sparkling with mischief as she leaned closer, completely unfazed by the chaos of deadlines surrounding you. “My bad,” she teased, her voice light and airy. “Still, you really should consider taking a break.” With an effortless grace that caught you off guard, she slid off the sofa and made her way to your cluttered desk, where she perched herself with a casual elegance, nudging your shoulder softly with her elbow. “Why not let me distract you for a bit?” 

You felt your lips twitch in a barely contained smile, the corners wanting to betray your feigned annoyance. “And what exactly do you suggest I do? My deadline is looming just a few hours away,” you replied, trying to sound serious despite the warmth spreading through you. 

Mapi gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart in mock horror. "Oh no, tomorrow morning? That gives you," she glanced at the clock as if it were a ticking time bomb, "exactly twelve hours to indulge in a proper panic!" Her playful exaggeration momentarily made the weight of your workload feel lighter, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

“Not everyone can coast through life like you do, Mapi.”

"Coast? Excuse me, I work very hard at being effortlessly cool." Mapi gasped again.

“That’s one way to put it,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Finally, you leaned back in your chair, the tension gathering in your temples prompting you to rub them softly with your fingertips, hoping to alleviate the pressure. Seizing the moment, Mapi leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, just a tiny break. Five minutes. Ten, if you’re feeling rebellious.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully, a teasing grin spreading across her face. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

You arched a perfectly shaped brow, “I’m not sure I trust you to define ‘what’s worth my while.’”

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Mapi shot forward, grabbing your hand with a playful tug that pulled you out of your chair. “Okay, okay, hear me out: ice cream and a motorcycle ride. Just imagine it—the perfect mix of productivity and relaxation,” she proclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious.

"A motorcycle ride?" Scepticism etched on your features. "Mapi, the last time I agreed to one of your 'brilliant ideas,' we ended up lost in the countryside with zero signal and a very confused goat."

Mapi laughed, squeezing your hand in reassurance. “Hey, that goat loved you. You have a way with animals.”

“I was bribing it with the granola bar you stole from my bag.” You deadpanned, but there was a hint of a smile playing at your lips.

"Details, details," your girlfriend waved a hand dismissively. "Come on, cariño. It's a gorgeous evening, and I promise this time there will be no unexpected livestock involved. Just us, the open road, and some ice cream."

You let out an exasperated groan, knowing all too well the charm she wielded. “You are impossible,” you said, but despite your words, you found yourself being led away, your reluctance melting under the warmth of her excitement.

“And yet, you love me,” Mapi declared with a hint of mischief in her voice, her eyes sparkling as she interlaced her fingers with yours, sealing the moment with a touch that felt both daring and intimate. A triumphant smile spread across her face, radiating confidence. “Now, let’s get you out of those stuffy, serious clothes and into something a little more...wind-resistant.” She waved her hand toward your impeccably pressed blouse and tailored blazer, her playful tone hinting at a teasing adventure that awaited.

A short while later, you stepped out in a casual leather jacket that Mapi had somehow convinced you to buy months ago. Whistling appreciatively, the footballer looked you once over. “Look at you, a total biker chick. We should get matching helmets.”

"Don't push it." You warned, slipping on the helmet Mapi handed you.

As you set out on the open road, the exhilarating rush of the wind swirled around you, tugging at your clothes and playfully tousling your hair. You found yourself gripping Mapi a little tighter than you had intended, your fingers entwining in a way that spoke volumes, though Mapi offered no protest. The deep, resonant hum of the engine vibrated through your bones, merging with the chaotic symphony of honking horns and distant laughter from the city streets, which slipped by in a vibrant blur of colors and movement.

Each glance outside revealed a fleeting kaleidoscope of urban life, the gleam of sunlit skyscrapers, the flicker of passing pedestrians, and the multicolour banners flapping against the backdrop of a rich blue sky. Meanwhile, the steady rhythm of Mapi's heartbeat pulsed beneath your palm, grounding you in the moment and filling you with comfort. It was an intimate connection, a rare indulgence that stirred feelings within you that you typically kept at bay. In this fleeting experience, amidst the rush and Thrill of the ride, you allowed yourself to embrace that feeling, relishing the sense of closeness that momentarily eclipsed your usual reservations.

As the traffic light glowed bright red, Mapi turned her head slightly, glancing back over her shoulder, a playful grin lighting up her face. “Admit it, you’re having fun,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You let out a mock huff, striving to sound indifferent while your grip on the bike tightened protectively. “It’s tolerable,” you replied, trying to maintain an air of coolness.

Mapi’s laughter rang out, infectious and bright. “I’ll take it! Now, what about ice cream?” she asked, excitement dancing in her voice.

“Fine, but I’m choosing the flavour,” you declared, determined to have your say in the matter.

“Deal,” Mapi responded, the engine of the motorcycle purring to life as the light shifted to green. With a playful twist of the throttle, she surged forward, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “Just remember, if you pick vanilla, I might have to reconsider this whole relationship.”

Behind the protective shell of your helmet, a smile threatened to break free. “Too late,” you said, warmth flooding your chest. “You’re stuck with me.”

[seulgisqt]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 — lena oberdorf

lena oberdorf x reader

(a/n: probably my corniest piece I've written but I hope you enjoy it(*^‿^*)

word count: 2033

genre: fluff

summary: confessions are in the air for your regular customer

With a gentle thud, you placed a beautifully crafted planter box overflowing with vibrant yellow winter pansies onto the rustic display table. The striking colour of the flowers contrasted sharply against the muted tones of the chilly winter evening. A crisp, frosty breeze swept into your quaint flower shop as the door creaked open just a fraction, sending a shiver down your spine and causing your cheeks to flush with warmth. 

Nestled in the charming corners of Northern Munich, your small flower shop was a hidden gem, known for its loyal clientele and the occasional whirlwind of wedding bookings. The locals often spoke of the exquisite quality of the blooms, a testament to the knowledge and dedication passed down to you from your grandfather, who instilled in you a deep love for flowers and their artistry.

You settled into your accustomed spot behind the polished wooden counter, the scent of aged wood and fresh peonies lingering in the air. With a steady hand and a practised eye, you carefully grip the stem of a rose, feeling the slight resistance of thorns against your fingers. As you snip away each thorn, the sharp scent of fresh blooms fills the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the garden soil.

The store felt unusually quiet for a weekday lunchtime, with only the distant sounds of city life drifting in through the open door. A few of your grandfather’s old friends ambled in, their faces lighting up with recognition and warmth as they paused their day to share a friendly greeting, adding a touch of life to the otherwise still atmosphere around you.

The doorbell chimed again, its cheerful ring echoing through the small store, pulling your attention away from the glaring screen of your laptop. You looked up just in time to see your friend Lena approaching, fiddling with her messenger bag slung across her.  

“Back again, Lena?” you said with a playful smirk, noticing her familiar figure as she stepped through the door, a soft chime of the bell announcing her arrival. “I’m beginning to wonder if you’re more captivated by the flowers than you’re willing to admit.” 

For the past few weeks, she had been a regular at the shop, her visits becoming almost a daily ritual. With each entrance, she would greet you with an eager smile and a sparkle in her eyes, always ready to inquire about the best blooms of the season or seek your advice on which arrangements would best suit her needs for her ‘special person’.

“Yeah… something like that,” Lena replied with a nervous chuckle, her fingers fidgeting with the delicate petals of the roses in front of her. “I need another bouquet.”

You paused, considering her request as you set down the scissors with a gentle clink against the counter. “For your ‘really important person’ again, right? Is there a special occasion this time, or are you just trying to brighten her day?” you asked, leaning forward slightly, intrigued.

Lena brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks tinted with a hint of pink. “I was thinking it might be time to, you know, finally tell her how I feel.” She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Finally! I was wondering when you would work up the courage.” You inhaled sharply, a mix of surprise and anticipation coursing through you “So what's the plan? Grand romantic gesture? Heartfelt confession?”

Lena smiled, a hint of shyness dancing in her expression. “I was thinking of keeping it simple,” she said, adjusting her gloves thoughtfully. “Just flowers and the truth. Isn’t that enough?” Her brown eyes sought yours, revealing a flicker of vulnerability. 

“Absolutely. As long as the flowers are perfect.” You moved from the counter, pulling out a few different blooms, “Okay, let’s see, something bold but not overwhelming. Romantic but personal.” You hurried around the shop with Lena following right behind you. “What’s her favourite flower?” You questioned.

Lena hesitated “I was hoping you’d help me figure that out.” Going back to fiddle with the handle of her messenger bag. You furrowed your eyebrows at the brunette, 

"Lena, how could you not know her favourite flower after visiting here for weeks?" you exclaimed, your voice rising with a mix of disbelief and frustration, gesturing animatedly, hoping to convey the importance of such a simple detail.

"I know your favourite flower," the taller girl mused, her eyes scanning the selection of blossoms in the shop. She watched intently, noting how your brow furrowed with concentration as you stretched up to grasp a bundle of vibrant Algerian irises perched just out of reach on a higher shelf. The irises, with their delicate petals painted in shades of deep blue and lavender, seemed to beckon to you, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you finally secured the beautiful blooms.

“Lena?” you asked gently, your voice breaking through the haze of her thoughts and pulling her back to the present moment.

She blinked, the distant look in her eyes fading as she focused on you. “Maybe you could just… build something you’d love?” A hint of hope coloured her words as she attempted to steer the conversation in a new direction. “You’ve got such great taste,” she added, her fingers absentmindedly fiddling with a vibrant green leaf of the poinsettia sitting nearby, the festive red blooms contrasting sharply with her nervous energy.

You stood before her, taking a moment to truly study her face—the way her brow lightly furrowed in thought, the flutter of her eyelashes as she glanced down, and the small smile that began to form on your lips at the warmth of her suggestion.

“Alright, Lena. Trust me on this one?”

“Always.” Lena relaxed a little. 

You were back behind the counter, adding the last touches to the bouquet. “For what it’s worth, she’s lucky to have someone like you.” You said softly, wrapping the bundle of flowers in pale blue tissue paper. 

Lena watched you with a nervous smile, “I hope she thinks so.” 

Your eyes meet hers as you hand her the neatly wrapped bouquet. “She will, how could she not?” 

“Guess I’ll find out soon.” Lena looked down at the bouquet in her arms, flustered at the thought of the coming days. 

As you watched Lena leave, she thanked you, making your heart flutter for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. Meanwhile, Lena clutched the bouquet, rehearsing what she’ll say—though her heart already knows who it’s meant for.

The following evening, the cosy ambience of the shop envelops you and your grandfather as you both begin to tidy up, preparing for another tranquil closing. The door is securely locked, yet the warm, golden glow of the shop lights spills out, casting inviting shadows onto the sidewalk outside. The soft hum of city traffic creates a gentle background melody, further enhancing the calm atmosphere.

At the counter, Lena stands slightly apart, her fingers nervously clutching a bouquet you’ve just finished wrapping. It’s a stunning arrangement, a harmonious blend of delicate lilies, cheerful daisies, and soft pink peonies that seem to whisper of springtime. 

“Well, there you go,” you say, wiping your hands on your apron with a sense of satisfaction. “I think this one might be my best arrangement yet.” A smile blossoms on your face as you admire your creation.

“It’s perfect,” Lena replies, her gaze drifting to the bouquet with genuine admiration. “Just like always.” Her eyes shine with appreciation, reflecting the beauty of the flowers and the care that went into them.

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you respond with a light laugh, the sound carrying a sense of warmth that fills the cosy space. “It’s not hard when the flowers do all the work.” 

Lena shifts nervously, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the delicate ribbon that adorns the bouquet. Her gaze drifts toward the colourful blooms, seemingly lost in a labyrinth of her own thoughts. “Can I tell you something?” she finally asks, her voice tinged with hesitation.

“Of course,” you reply, your smile fading into a look of genuine curiosity as you set your gaze on her. “What’s on your mind?” 

You see Lena draw in a deep, steadying breath, her chest rising almost imperceptibly. “This bouquet isn’t for who you think it is,” she reveals, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes that catches you off guard.

You knit your eyebrows together, a confused smile playing on your lips. “What do you mean? I thought—”

“I mean,” she interrupts gently, gathering her thoughts like scattered petals on the wind. She takes another deep breath as if preparing to unveil a hidden treasure. “Every bouquet I’ve bought, every single one—it’s been for you.” 

The revelation hangs in the air between you, a cascade of emotions swirling like the vibrant colours of the flowers before you.

You blink twice, stunned. “For me?”

Lena nodded, shrugging her shoulders, “I know it sounds ridiculous. I kept telling myself I’d work up the nerve to say something, but every time I came in here, I’d chicken out.” her voice was soft but steady, “You’d smile at me, ask me about my day, and I’d forget how to say it. So, I’d just…buy another bouquet and hope you’d somehow figure it out.” 

She rendered you speechless as your cheeks flushed, “Lena, I…”

Holding out the bouquet to you, Lena steps closer, “You make this shop feel like home, like somewhere I actually belong, especially since moving to Munich. You’re the one I’ve been coming here for, and I don’t want to keep pretending that these flowers are for anyone else,” she rambled “because the truth is, I just want them to make you smile.” 

Your hands shook slightly as you reached out to take the vibrant bouquet she was offering you, your eyes locked onto hers in a mix of surprise and wonder. “You’ve been doing all of this for me?” you asked, your voice laced with a hint of disbelief. 

Lena nodded, her expression a mix of hope and uncertainty as she awaited your response. The nerves hung thick in the air as you let out a soft laugh, almost incredulous at the gesture. “You’re such an idiot,” you finally exclaimed, unable to contain your admiration for her thoughtfulness.

Your unexpected reaction caught Lena off guard. “What?” she questioned, her brow furrowing in confusion, searching for clarity in your eyes as you tried to find the right words to convey just how much her gesture meant to you.

“You didn’t have to go through all this,” you said softly, stepping around the counter to stand directly in front of her. The vibrant bouquet you clutched felt warm against your chest, its fragrant blossoms filling the air with a sweet, earthy scent. “I’ve been hoping you’d say something for weeks.”

Surprise flickered across Lena’s face as she tilted her head, her eyes wide with vulnerability. “You have?” she breathed, a relieved sigh escaping her lips before a radiant smile began to form.

“Of course, I have, Lena,” you replied, inhaling deeply and savouring the intoxicating aroma of the bouquet. “You’re sweet, and kind, and honestly? You’re the best part of every single day for me.” As the words left your mouth, you felt a flutter of expectation, hoping to see that warmth reflected in her eyes.

“So, is this a good time to ask you,” Lena’s laughter bubbled over, filling the cosy shop with warmth, “or should I come back tomorrow for more flowers?” She playfully gestured toward the entrance, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Don’t you dare,” you replied, a grin spreading across your face. “I’ve got all the flowers I need right here.” With a gentle touch, you leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her cheek, the gesture lingering in the air between them.

Surrounded by the intoxicating aroma of fresh petals and promises adorning the shop, Lena felt a warmth beyond the sunshine pouring in through the windows. In that moment, amidst the flowers and whispers of unspoken feelings, she realized what she had been searching for all along—someone who truly saw her, who appreciated the essence of who she was.

[seulgisqt]

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌 — aitana bonmatí

student!aitana bonmatí x student!reader

(a/n: heavily inspired by the kdrama hierarchy (don’t ask me if I recommend it cause idk if I even liked it in the end lol), but I thought this would be kinda cute and fun to write so, hopefully you enjoy it, lowkey felt kinda rushed but I loved it either way)

word count: 1600

genre: fluff

private school!au, mostly in aitana’s pov

summary: in a world where power is everything, you fell for the one girl not on the guest list

Elion International was less of a school and more of an empire dressed in tailored uniforms and marble staircases, wrapped in ivy-covered stone and crowned with centuries-old spires. Nestled just outside the heart of Barcelona, it catered to the children of politicians, CEOs, and old European families. Its halls echoed with whispered secrets and well-rehearsed ambitions. It was where the elite sent their children to polish them into something shinier. Everyone knew everyone—unless you didn’t belong.

Aitana Bonmatí was, undeniably, someone who didn’t.

She walked the halls with a quiet sort of strength, her tie slightly crooked and her shoes unpolished and scuffed. She didn’t come from money or legacy. What she had were calloused hands, sore muscles and a mind sharpened by necessity. She had gotten in on a full scholarship—one of five given each year to exceptional students. Hers came courtesy of her place in La Masia, FC Barcelona’s elite youth academy. Her presence at Elion was earned, not inherited, and everyone knew it.

It showed in the way people looked at her. Not cruelly—this wasn’t a movie—but with the kind of polite detachment that said: You’re not one of us, but we’ll tolerate you because you’re useful. Or interesting. For now.

She didn’t care. Or she told herself she didn’t. She had training, exams, and goals far beyond the judgment of seventeen-year-olds with last names that came with board seats and magazine features.

It was a rainy Wednesday morning, and Aitana was late. Again. 

She jogged into the main building with her backpack half-zipped and her umbrella had finally given up. Aitanawas standing in front of her locker, tugging frustratedly at the collar of her shirt as her uniform clung uncomfortably from the drizzle, and her tie—of course—was missing. She must’ve left it in the locker room after training. 

Panic rose in her chest. Uniform infractions weren’t just frowned upon at Elion; they were documented. And once they were documented, they were reported, and Aitana didn’t have the luxury of careless mistakes. She was standing at her locker, fingers trembling as she rifled through her bag in vain, when someone cleared their throat behind her.

“You forgot this.”

A soft voice. A faint citrusy perfume.

You stood before her, holding out a neatly folded burgundy tie, perfectly put together in your navy blazer, with perfect posture and a smile that could make someone forget how to breathe. 

Elion’s unofficial monarch. Heir to one of the largest media companies in Spain, child of the infamous Leon Group, and the kind of person people wrote gossip columns about even when you hadn’t done anything interesting. Your hair always fell into place. Your uniform always fits just a little better than everyone else’s. You had presence. Command. But your smile? That was disarmingly kind.

Aitana blinked. “You—what?”

You laughed lightly. “You looked like you needed it.”

“Why do you have a spare tie?” Aitana asked, taking it cautiously.

Your eyes sparkled. “Because I’m psychic, obviously. And because I saw you running from the athletic center. Figured you might’ve left yours.”

“You…were watching me?”

“Not watching. Observing. It’s a subtle difference.” You raised a brow.

Aitana tried to ignore the heat creeping up her neck as she looped the tie around her collar, avoiding your gaze.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“You’re welcome.” You stepped back, tone still light. “You tie it wrong, by the way.”

“What?”

“Your knot. You always do it backwards. It’s charming.”

And with that, you turned and walked away, the sharp lines of your uniform hypnotic, your presence leaving behind the faint scent of orange blossom. Aitana stood frozen, fingers still on the fabric of her newly gifted tie. 

It started with glances. Always glances.

You began noticing Aitana in ways you hadn’t before. It wasn’t just the way Aitana stood out, despite her efforts to blend in. It was the way she carried herself with quiet strength, never needing to assert dominance to be noticed. And yet, Aitana was always the one who seemed to be overlooked by others.

Aitana didn’t know what to make of it. You would wave when you passed in the halls. Sometimes she’d catch you looking during History, eyes thoughtful, chin resting on her hand. Once, Aitana walked into the library and found you already there, gesturing to the seat across like you had been waiting all along. You were never pushy. Just present. Your way of being close was soft and intentional—little conversations after class, shared smiles during assemblies, the occasional croissant left on Aitana’s desk with a post-it: You looked tired. Eat something.

Aitana wasn’t used to softness. Not like this. Her life was discipline and focus. Early mornings. Tactics. Deadlines. And then there was you, attractive and gentle, asking things like:

“Do you like poetry?”

“What’s your favourite kind of rain?”

“Have you ever been in love?”

Aitana had her first real conversation with you behind the library. It was a quiet courtyard, shielded by hedges and lined with lemon trees. Aitana had gone there for air after a math test that had nearly destroyed her. You were already there, legs tucked beneath you, a book in your lap.

“You okay?” you asked, without looking up.

Aitana paced up and down in front of you. “Barely passed derivatives. So no.” You offered her half a chocolate bar. “You always expect perfection from yourself.”

“I have to.” Aitana slumped next to you.

A pause. A longer look.

“I know what that feels like,” you sighed, dog-earring your book.

Aitana looked at you, surprised. “Do you?” Slight judgment in her voice.

You laughed, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “People expect things from me, too. Not the same things. But…expectations all the same.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, the wind rustling lemon blossoms all around. Aitana leaned back against the stone wall. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re trying to belong to a world that wasn’t made for you?” You asked quietly.

Aitana didn’t answer right away. She turned, looked at her, and said:

“Only until you showed up.”

Your smile was slow, radiant. Your fingers brushed Aitana’s, tentative and warm, and when Aitana didn’t pull away, you laced them together like it was the most natural thing in the world. After that, everything felt like a secret. A beautiful, quiet one.

They became experts at almost.

Almost touching in the library as your fingers brushed while reaching for the same book. Almost lingering too long in the hallway between classes. Almost kissing behind the bleachers after Aitana scored the winning goal in a La Masia scrimmage, Elion students had been invited to watch.

In classrooms where the windows stretched from floor to ceiling, you would steal looks at Aitana while the teacher droned on about economics or literature. In the cafeteria, Aitana would find you already seated with your glittering group of friends, but your gaze would always find Aitana the second she walked in—an invitation hidden behind porcelain smiles and casual nods.

But there were eyes everywhere. Children of diplomats, celebrities, and business moguls. At Elion, your every move became a currency—gossiped, measured, and leveraged. Your friends were the kind who always noticed. The kind who had rules for everything.

“Isn’t she the girl on scholarship?” one of them asked once, twirling her spoon in a cup of matcha.

You just hummed and flipped a page in your book, heart racing. “She’s also the girl who’s going to play for Spain one day. So maybe be nice.”

That earned her a few raised brows. But no more questions. 

Their private world grew in quiet, stolen ways. Late-night messages after training. Aitana waiting by the east garden gate on Thursday afternoons after class, where you would sneak out with two lattes and a small paper bag of churros from the shop down the street. Sitting under the wisteria vines, knees touching, talking about things that didn’t belong in their world: future road trips, cities they wanted to live in, the dream of being known not by their last names but by who they were to each other.

A quiet but thunderous Tuesday—Barcelona’s kind of storm, loud and cinematic, the school lights flickering above as students scrambled inside. Aitana had been waiting for you near the back of the gym, soaked from practice, hair slicked to her face.

“You’re going to catch something,” you scolded, shrugging off your jacket and draping it around her shoulders, brushing the hair out of her face. Aitana looked up at you, water dripping from her eyelashes, and said simply, “Worth it.”

You scoffed in disbelief as you watched her lips curve up into a smile, taking in the smaller features of her face. Thunder echoed throughout the gym hall, as you finally decided the close the space between you, your lips soft against hers, tasting the remnants of your lip gloss. Soft. Messy. But real.

They started leaving notes in each other’s lockers—tiny folded hearts, inside jokes, drawings. You began to wear your tie just slightly loose, the way Aitana did. Aitana started keeping a red ribbon in her backpack—the same one you had worn in your hair at a charity gala.

No one outright knew, but whispers started. 

Elion’s halls were made for whispers.

But you didn’t care. Not when Aitana smiled at you like you were more than a stuffy heiress. Not when being with her felt like finally choosing something for yourself.

There was no pretense, no need for masks or perfections. It was just them—two people who were trying to navigate a world that didn’t quite understand them.

[seulgisqt]

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 - aitana bonmatí

aitana bonmatí x fem!reader

(a/n: oooh guess who’s posting a 6 month old piece dedicated to her boo, yep me, hopefully this doesn’t feel so long winded -_-)

word count: 918

genre: fluff

The trumpets of soft jazz accompanied your hums whilst your face sat inches away from your bedroom wall. With a slight ache in your back and a steady hand, you meticulously painted, the paintbrush moving over the same spot repeatedly, while your glasses slowly slid down the bridge of your nose.

The task of painting a mural for your newborn niece's bedroom, as requested by your sister, was no small undertaking. Utilising your time after work to visit, despite the demands, and hopefully make some decent progress. A week had passed and now, once again, you were sitting hunched over adding details. With your loyal Irish terrier, Dulce, sleeping soundly in your lap, occasionally stirring whenever you shifted positions.

The tranquillity of the bedroom is interrupted by a gentle knock at the door. You look to your left and the corners of your lips upturn. Seeing your girlfriend Aitana standing at the door, her hair in her usual relaxed ponytail, dressed in comfortable grey sweats.

"I thought you might have snuck Dulce in here with you." She quipped with a soft chuckle, looking at her watch as the clock hit 8:30pm.

You start to shift in your seat, intending to get up and greet the Barcelona player, before realising that Dulce is nestled between your legs, letting out a low grumble of disapprovement. You quickly settle back down, opting to stay put.

Aitana stood quietly behind you, her gaze fixed on the mural taking shape before her, the adorable zoo scene slowly coming together as you filled in the giraffe's spots. Above your head, you heard an approving hum, and then Aitana's encouraging voice, "You're doing well, chica. It's looking good!" She leaned in to examine the baby elephant on the wall. You release a doubtful sigh as you painted but your girlfriend was having none of it. "Don't be like that, amor meu! You're almost done." Aitana patting your thigh as she was now sitting next to you, "You don't know it yet, but your sister is currently bragging to her friends about you on the phone." Throwing you a knowing glance before resting her head on your shoulder.

You pause for a moment, the paintbrush resting lightly in your hand, looking up at the colourful, vast wall. As your eyes roam the wall, they come to rest on your girlfriend, nestled on your shoulder, her eyes closed in a state of wakefulness and slumber.

"I can hear your thoughts from here," Aitana mumbles quietly as you carefully set down your paintbrush, lifting Dulce out of your lap and glancing over at her. She stirs slightly, still half-asleep, and then continues, "relax." Her voice is gentle but firm as you unintentionally wake her from her short slumber as you stand up.

As Aitana observed, you stretched and vigorously mixed paints together in an attempt to find the perfect shade of blue. She then turned to the bedside table and quickly retrieved a new paintbrush.

"What can I help you with?" Aitana asked with a slight smile. You look up at her bewildered, surprised at her sudden involvement, considering that she hadn't shown much interest in the mural in the last couple of days.

"Uh...well the butterflies in this corner still need to be completed," you used the end of your paintbrush to point at the lightly sketched butterflies that fluttered across the wall, "that is, if you can reach." you teased your girlfriend.

Aitana, now pouting, threw a miserable glance, not taking kindly to the playful jab. "There's a step stool by the crib." you motioned to the oak crib behind the two of you.

"...Or I do the butterflies and you can finish the tiger—" you began to offer.

"No, no. I'll do the butterflies! I can reach perfectly fine." a smug look appeared on Aitana's face, turning away from you to retrieve the step stool.

As you and your girlfriend focused intently on your respective sections of the mural, time seemed to slip away unnoticed. Idle conversations about work and football filled the air until you suddenly became aware of Aitana approaching. With a mischievous grin on her face, she swiftly swiped her paintbrush across your cheek, leaving a streak of pastel pink in its wake.

"Lighten up, chica!" she planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, having to stand on her tiptoes to reach you.

Surprised and amused, you quickly retaliated by dragging your own blue-coated paintbrush across Aitana's forehead, eliciting a playful squeal from her. Dipping your hand into your palette, preparing to imprint your handprint onto your girlfriend's sweatshirt, before being interrupted by the sudden sensation of paint being splattered across your shirt.

You both gasped, meeting each other's wide-eyed gaze, recalling the mural that overlook you. "Aitana!" you hissed, scanning the mural in a panic for any paint splashes. "Amor meu, it's completely fine!" Aitana pointed at the mural with a smile.

"Completely—" the Barca player's expression fell as she ran her index finger across the pastel blue background of the wall, leaving a harsh pink line across, almost touching the giraffe. "Fine." You finish her sentence, blinking twice, hoping the mark would magically disappear.

Before either of you could say anything more, the knock at the bedroom door caught your attention. You turn to see your heavily pregnant sister standing in the doorway, a hopeful smile sitting on her cheeks before catching the sight of you and your girlfriend from your shenanigans.

"The mural's not done isn't it?"

[seulgisqt]

𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — lena oberdorf

lena oberdorf x gerwnt!fem!reader

(a/n: a small piece for lena cause I miss her (ಡ‸ಡ) so I hope you enjoy this! also my inbox is finally open for requests so go ahead my lovelies)

word: 586

genre: fluff + angst (?)

summary: clueless lena has you in a tight grip

The warm summer air soothed your skin as Lena laid on top of you on the loveseat sofa, hoping to nap the evening away. You could finally see each other with training camp in full swing for the international break. You run a lazy hand through Lena’s hair, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone as Lena drifts in and out of sleep. The comfortable silence between the two of you was accented by the subdued commentary of the football game on TV and Lena’s occasional snore.

You notice her eyebrows furrow in discomfort, followed by a huff as she shifts and wraps her arms around your waist. Gently withdrawing your hand from her hair, you begin to trace it down her back, taking in the contours and nuances of her musculature.

“When are you heading back to Spain?” Her question startled you slightly, the vibrations of her voice resonating against your stomach.

“Somewhere around the last week of August.” You sighed in response, knowing that there wasn’t much time between the Olympics and you heading back to your respective club, Barcelona.

“Are you going back with Alexia?” Lena then looked up at you with delicate brown eyes, a soft wrinkle appearing on her forehead as her chin poked your stomach, toying with the gold charms on your necklace.

You pout at her subtle protectiveness so cupping her cheeks, and combing the flyaway hairs from her face.

“Yeah…” you replied, pausing for a moment, “that shouldn’t change anything.” mumbling to yourself. To that, Lena swiftly sat up, letting go of your necklace as a puzzled expression formed across her face.

“You realise that she’s interested in you, right? I don't even have to be there for me to know that.” She inquired with a firm voice and piercing eyes.

“And it’s very much one-sided.” You finished her sentence as your hand now replaced hers in fiddling with the delicate pendant, avoiding her gaze as you finished her sentence. You were well aware of Lena’s feelings about your friendship with Alexia, throwing a small sarcastic comment here and there whenever you mentioned her in a conversation. Since moving to the Catalan region, you had noticed Alexia's growing fondness for you, but you had been subtly declining her advances as you already had feelings for someone else.

That someone else was now sitting in between your legs, waiting to be upset with you. Inspecting her face for a moment, hoping she’ll respond.

“I know, that doesn't sound believable at all, but the feelings aren't mutual on my end.” your pendant slipped out of sweaty fingertips, as you spoke. “So, for when you get your act together, I’ll still be here.” throwing her a nervous smile.

“What do you mean by that?” Lena fixed you with a piercing glare but a hint of softness sat behind her eyes, arms folded across her chest.

The tension in the room was palpable, the unspoken emotions lingering between you like a heavy cloud.

“Well, when you're ready to admit that we are more than friends, you won't have to worry about anyone else.” you motioned between the two of you, taking her hand and placing it back onto your necklace pendant, your heart pounding underneath.

“I can promise you that I won’t keep you waiting.” Lena’s face lit up with a shy yet genuine smile, placing a tender kiss on your lips. Leaving you with warm cheeks and a deep sense of contentment, knowing that her promise was sealed with that tender kiss.

[seulgisqt]

𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐌 — elisa de almeida

elisa de almeida x fem!reader

(a/n: heyy its been a while ~(>_<~) I thought I would be more active in the summer but idk what happened there as I had this sitting in my drafts for sooo long, I hope you enjoyed this piece luvvies (¯ ³¯)♡)

word count: 1305

genre: fluff/angst

summary: a holiday with elisa allows her to open up.

Elisa had always been captivated by the beach, with its golden sands and the soothing sound of the waves crashing against the shore. However, while she relished the serenity of sunbathing and the occasional stroll along the coastline, the adrenaline-fueled world of surfing didn’t quite resonate with her as much as it did with you. During your getaway to the Maldives with Elisa and a few close friends, the days unfolded in a gentle rhythm.

You explored vibrant local markets, immersing yourself in the rich culture and vibrant colours of handcrafted goods and aromatic street food. Together, you ventured to breathtaking viewpoints, marvelling at the stunning turquoise waters and lush tropical landscapes. Despite her reservations about surfing, you often tried to coax Elisa into the warm ocean breeze, hoping to share the thrill of catching a wave with her.

Now, on this sun-drenched beach with the sun blazing high in the sky, you found yourself standing over Elisa as you stuck two surfboards into the sand, captivated by the way her bronze skin shimmered under the warm light filtering through your sunglasses. She squinted in the brightness, her brows knitting together as she mumbled softly to herself, momentarily puzzled by what was casting a shadow over her sunbathing spot.

“Ma belle,” Elisa began, her tone playful as she leaned back, the sun illuminating her radiant smile. She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head, revealing bright eyes that sparkled with mischief. “As much as I adore you and consider you the very light of my life,” she continued, a teasing grin spreading across her face, “you’re going to ruin my tan.” Her gaze met yours, a hint of challenge glimmering in her eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile at her corny charm, a mix of fondness and amusement washing over you. “We leave in just two days, and you still haven’t taken the plunge into the waves with me,” you retorted, pouting slightly, the playful banter dancing between you like the summer breeze.

“It's just not my thing, mon amour.” Elisa stood up, her voice laced with a hint of apology as she felt the familiar pang of guilt creeping in for avoiding the surfboards propped in the sand. The sun glinted off the water, inviting and tantalizing.

“You had no problem getting on the jet ski yesterday, though,” you pointed out, your tone playful but edged with a bit of frustration. You could still envision the way her laughter had danced on the wind while zipping across the water, the adrenaline painting her cheeks with colour.

“Well,” she hesitated, her brows knitting together as she contemplated the potential hazards of surfing, “what if I wipe out and the board hits me? I could end up with a concussion!” Her eyes widened as she imagined the worst-case scenario, the apprehension evident in her posture.

“Firstly,” you replied, arching an eyebrow and giving her an incredulous look, “do you forget that I do this for a living? I’ve seen it all!” You leaned closer, hoping to reassure her. “Secondly, the waves here aren’t rough at all. They’re gentle, perfect for beginners! I wouldn’t just toss you into the water without a proper lesson from moi.” You emphasized “moi” with a playful flourish, landing a kiss on her pink lips, and transferring your watermelon chapstick, hoping to lighten the mood.

Elisa bit her lip, still uncertain, but you could see the flicker of curiosity in her eyes, battling with her fears.

Elisa stood at the water's edge, her smile illuminated by the sun as she watched the gentle waves lap at her feet, the cool saltwater glistening on her skin. Yet, despite the serene setting, a flicker of apprehension danced in her eyes. "We won't venture far," you reassured her, your voice steady and warm. "We’ll just paddle and cruise along the shore. You’ll be perfectly fine, I promise. Just follow my lead." You offered a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, hoping to instil a sense of calm.

With a determined breath, you dashed into the inviting embrace of the ocean, feeling the refreshing rush of saltwater envelop your board. As you lay flat on your surfboard, you glanced back to check on Elisa. To your relief, her expression had transformed; the worry had faded, replaced by a newfound sense of tranquillity. She was right beside you now, ready to embrace the waves.

You both glide further from the shore, the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping against the boards harmonizing with the gentle whispers of the ocean breeze. As you find your balance and sit up on your board, the salty air wraps around you like a familiar embrace. Your gaze sweeps across the horizon, where the vibrant colours of the sky blend seamlessly with the island’s silhouette, its lush greenery and rugged cliffs standing proudly against the shimmering blue backdrop. Each breath fills your lungs with the briny scent of the sea, heightening your senses as you take in the stunning view.

Elisa’s voice sliced through the quiet rhythm of your thoughts as she glided effortlessly alongside you in the shimmering water. “You know,” she began, her tone laced with vulnerability, “after the Olympics, I found myself questioning my place on the squad.” She stared down at the rippling surface, her legs creating gentle waves that danced around her. “It’s been constant miss after miss, year after year, and when the moment finally came at a home Olympics, it felt surreal.”

You nodded, empathy rising within you as you observed Elisa’s averted gaze, her thoughts seemingly lost in the depths of the water. Before you could express your support, she pressed on, her voice tinged with emotion. “I’m so grateful to have been part of it all, to be called up to the team. It just feels…” She paused, finally meeting your gaze, the concern mirrored in her eyes. “…exhausting.” The weight of her words hung in the air, a testament to the mental toll of her journey.

“Why didn't you tell me this in August?” you asked, your fingers resting gently on her firm thigh, your gaze searching her eyes for some kind of understanding.

Elisa's expression shifted to one of disbelief as her voice rose in protest. “You came back from Tahiti with a silver medal hanging proudly around your neck!” she exclaimed, the shock evident in her tone. “Who was I to let my misery overshadow your moment of triumph?”

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, a pang of regret tightening in your chest as you both reflected on the whirlwind of emotions over the past couple of months. You were acutely aware of Elisa’s lingering discontent regarding the team's performance at the Olympics, but you had never fathomed she might start doubting her abilities.

You both lay on your surfboards in peaceful silence as the sun hung low in the sky, where the sound of seagulls occasionally punctuated the calm atmosphere. The gentle rhythm of small waves, with each ebb and flow, gradually brought you closer back to the soft beachfront.

Elisa settled down beside you on the warm, golden sand, a soft towel draped over her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around you, pulling you closer as the gentle sound of wave crashes filled the air. “You should really make me surf more,” she said, her voice playful yet serious. The sun cast a warm glow over her face, highlighting the sparkle in her eyes.

“It’s soothing when you seek solace,” you chuckled softly, the sound mingling with the gentle ebb and flow of the waves. Your gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the tide retreated, leaving a glistening trail along the shore. “But please, don’t hold back. Share anything that weighs on your heart.” Your voice was earnest, a tender plea born from the depths of your concern.

[seulgisqt]

𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄, 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐖— elisa de almeida

elisa de almeida x fem!reader

(a/n: something small and cute for the elisa girlies (as well as self-indulgence), probably some grammatical errors so keep your expectations low, but anyways, enjoy luvvies ^_^)

word count: 598

genre: fluff

As the year ended and the football season was slowly coming to a pause, you stood on the sidelines of the pitch along with your fellow PTs, bundled up in scarves and gloves, watching the ladies’ training session that taking place in the sharp winter chill, discussing the necessary next steps for the team before they split up for the winter break. Elisa with a slight limp, as she ran, had caught your eye (for a long while at that), hoping that she knew to come see you afterwards.

Once the session was over, the young Parisian was back in the clinic as you anticipated, a small sympathetic smile lifted your cheeks slightly as she greeted you.

“You’re quite a trooper, you know,” you said quietly as you washed your hands in the corner of the room, with Elisa humming in response, letting out a small laugh as she lay on the treatment couch. “But as I said before, please stop turning your hip inward,” you scolded her softly, sitting on your stool, eyes softening as you traced the features of her face.

“Practice was great, my love, thank you for asking,” she answered back sarcastically, you playfully hit her arm, knowing that she wasn’t supposed to address you as anything but your name.

Carefully peeling the kinesio tape off her left thigh that held up her hamstring. Rubbing oil onto her soft skin, you began massaging the muscle, letting her ramble on about formations for the next set of games coming up in late January.

“The Ajax game should be alright, considering–” she let out a small shriek as you were knuckle-deep in a tender spot on her thigh, she watched your movements, glancing at the club crest on your top.

You remain unfazed as your eyebrows furrowed, examining the spot, “you didn’t tell me about this before,” you looked at her apologetically, soothing her thigh “with that, you mentioned that your calf was causing you some issues?” you questioned Elisa.

She nodded as her face lit up with a playful smile, “yeah but this was at home, not here at the clinic,” she teased, combing a hand through her hair.

“So technically, this is new information to you.” you both said in unison, with you letting out a small chuckle. Your face quickly dropped as you scrutinised her calf, seeing how tight it was, raising an eyebrow as you questioned her again.

“Elisa.” You perked up, she noticed your change in demeanour, making her sit up slightly. “Have you been doing the stretches I showed you?” you eyed her, quite serious and sombre, as you waited for an answer.

The Saint-Germain player looked up at the fluorescent lighting, scratching the back of her neck, she could feel your eyes on her. The silence for what felt like minutes which was only a couple of seconds, was all you needed as an answer. You sighed as you spun around once on the stool, thinking of whether to lecture her or to make a joke, Elisa interrupted your thoughts.

Your girlfriend quietly watched you contemplate, “I know but before you lecture me, the calf pain just never crosses my mind, I’ve gotten used to it,” she looked on at you regretfully as you frowned at her, “I promise, once we’re back from our trip, I’ll do them properly.” she held out her pinky finger as a promise, knowing that you couldn’t be upset for long.

A comforting smile appeared on your face as you interlocked your pinky with her, your matching bracelets tinkled together.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

[seulgisqt]

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑— valentina giacinti

valentina giacinti x fem!reader

(a/n: had this small blurb sitting in my drafts since feb/march? idk but I think I might do a pt. 2 of this vale piece but anyways enjoy my luvvies ^_^)

word count: 434

genre: fluff with an angsty tendencies??

The air hung comfortably silent in the living room, as you and Valentina huddled around your suitcase. With her sitting on the blue hardshell as you were on your knees trying to close your luggage, tugging at the zip. 

“Mia Rosa, move your legs for a moment.” Tapping Val’s calf gently so you can drag the zip around the suitcase, letting your girlfriend attach the lock. As Val clicked the lock into place, you couldn't help but notice the dejected look on her face. Her lips formed a slight pout as the curls of her hair cascaded across her face.

“You know, six months will pass by in the blink of an eye,” you said with a soft smile, gently brushing the overgrown hair out of her face. “We’ll see.” she huffed, plopping down on the carpet across from you, leaning against the overstuffed suitcase. “What time is your flight?”

“5:15,” you answered shortly, “it’s now 11, so I’m going to get ready.” Standing up to head to the bathroom.

Valentina had been quiet all morning as you hurried around the apartment frantically, trying to collect last-minute items for your flight. The airline you worked for wanted you to relocate to Dubai and that meant turning your relationship with Valentina into a long-distance one. As the moving day approached, it became evident that Valentina struggling to come to terms with the idea of relocation. Every time the topic was brought up, she seemed to dodge it, perhaps in the hope that you might reconsider the opportunity and decide to stay in Rome with her.

As time went by, you eventually found yourself in front of the hallway mirror with only a couple of minutes until you needed to head off. You meticulously adjusted your hair parting, making sure to smooth down any stray hairs and ensuring that they stayed in place. The lingering scent of hairspray filled the air as you worked on perfecting your look.

Valentina sauntered over to you, her steps deliberate and graceful, the aroma of her coffee trailing behind her. As she took her last sip before setting it down on the coffee table, her gaze lingered on you, assessing you from top to bottom. As she reached out a warm hand to straighten the lapels of your blazer, you caught a glimpse of her intent expression in the reflection. The subtle movements of her hand and the furrow of her brow hinted at the whirlwind of thoughts racing through her mind.

“You’ll be back before you know it.” her voice exuded a sense of calm reassurance. You hum in agreement, your eyes gazing over the tiny bumps of her freckles. “I promise you it won’t be long and you have many matches to play whilst I'm away,” your voice cracking slightly as you pulled her into a tight embrace, hearing her small sniffle by your ear, holding in her tears.

[seulgisqt]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐎 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 — elisa de almeida

elisa de almeida x fem!reader

(a/n: another short piece from one barista to another ^_^ enjoy my luvvies)

word count: 805

genre: fluff

The mellow, narrow streets of your small northern town were no small feat against the hectic streets of Paris that you now found yourself working in, during the city’s morning rush hour. The light pink cherry blossoms fall to settle on the awning of your aunt’s cafe. Choosing to work here as you continued job hunting in the city, which you weren’t having the most luck in.

You were behind the counter, presenting the freshly baked cakes on the display fridge, the odd scent of vanilla and coffee filled the air. It was midday and the small cafe was now empty, with a few customers either working or idly sipping their beverages.

Cloudy with a cool chill in the air, the quiet breeze was now noticeable as the hanging plants swayed, with the shopkeeper’s bell chiming, notifying someone’s arrival.

You lift your head to see Elisa, the regular you slowly acquainted yourself with over the last few months—as well as your neighbour.

Once you set the last cake stand down, Elisa is already waiting for you at the counter, throwing you her toothy grin.

“Good afternoon, to my favourite barista!” Sending you a salute, she was dressed in her practice gear, the dark blue ensemble fit her well as your eyes raked down her body.

You walked to the other end of the bar, meeting her hazel eyes, matching her smile, your heartbeat skipped for an instant. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you quickly turned to the coffee machine to get set on making her usual order, the standard flat white.

As you steam the milk, trying to get the right amount of foam to build up in your pitcher, you look over your shoulder to see Elisa setting her bag down at one of the booths by the front of the restaurant before meeting you back up at the counter.

“You weren’t here this morning,” you say as you pour the hot milk into the small ceramic. “My aunt asked for you.” Creating a small heart in the coffee, dragging the milk pitcher across slightly.

Elisa lets out a low chuckle and confesses “I woke up surprisingly late, so I wasn’t able to grab breakfast.” You turn back towards Elisa, placing her coffee on a saucer and sliding it towards her. As she reaches for it, her warm hand brushes against yours, and you can't help but notice the crinkles around her eyes as they light up in gratitude. She whispers a small thank you, and you can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having made her day a little bit better.

As you untied the apron from your waist, you slid into the comfortable leather booth and rested your chin in your hand. You swirled the warm peppermint tea around in your cup, taking in the aroma and feeling the steam rise to your face. You looked across to find Elisa watching you with a hint of a smile as she took a sip of her coffee. Her hair fell slightly forming a delicate curl above her eyes. The atmosphere in the cafe was peaceful, and the low chatter of the other patrons provided a soothing background noise.

“What? Is the coffee bad?” With knitted brows, you leaned forward a little, eyes swiftly darting between the coffee cup and the Parisian’s calm expression.

“No, no, the coffee is good, I promise,” she reassured you, drinking up a small spoonful, “I told your aunt to pass on my message to you, but I don’t think she did.” She continued.

You shake your head slightly, trying to retrace if your aunt had said anything about Elisa before she hastily left before lunch. “I don’t think so either,” you murmur to yourself “What was it?” Looking on inquisitively, taking another sip of your tea.

Elisa takes a small breath, her face slowly turning pink. “Well, we should hang out more often, outside of all this,” she gestured to the cafe, “you mentioned that small jazz club around the corner, you haven’t gone without me, right?”

You hummed in response, feeling yourself blush at her sudden shyness, making you feel a little giddy at the unexpected confession.

“I bought two tickets for Sunday, my aunt doesn’t like jazz anyway.” You teased.

“Sunday works!” The player perked up.

Elisa completed her sentence and then cast a glance at the time on her phone. You realized that it was time for her to leave. She took a sip of her coffee, finishing it in one go, and then both of you got up from the cosy booth. It was time to say your goodbyes. As usual, she would wait for you to close the cafe before embarking on the walk home together.

And with that, the shopkeeper's bell chimed, notifying Elisa’s exit.