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ellatoone7 · 8 months ago

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❄︎ Pretty lights ❄︎

(Alexia’s favourite girls series)

You and Alexia go to see the lights

Christmas time was always your favourite time of year. The pretty lights and decorations and just the wholesome feeling you would get during the holidays always made you feel at peace.

You honestly didn’t think you could love it more but the universe always has ways of surprising people. The warm hand that was placed gently on your thigh was proof of that.

Michael Buble was playing quietly on the radio as you sat in the most comfortable silence, throwing your favourite person and adoring glance every now and then. The gentle hum of her low voice buzzed in your ear as she sang along with the radio.

Taken by the absolute warmth of this scene, your hand grazed tenderly over her tanned arm, slowly making its ways down to where her hand was resting. Your fingers danced with hers for a minute before she opened her palm invitingly, welcoming your hand eagerly.

Alexia lifted your joined hands up to her lips, where she placed a delicate kiss to the back of your hand. You couldn’t help but let the red flush taint your cheeks as you stare at your conjoined hands resting on the console.

It still baffles you after all these years dating that she can still make you flustered. Alexia knows it too as she sends you a cheeky, not-so-discreet smirk. You let the peaceful silence consume you as you occupy yourself by looking out the window.

Barcelona was quite the city to see any day of the year, but something about the city at christmas time had captured your heart. (Or maybe it was the woman sitting beside you.)

Snow had fallen last night leaving the beautiful city covered in a dazzling white. A few snowflakes had started to fall since you had left your home but that didn’t bother you, in fact you encouraged it having not been used to snow from where you grew up.

The heating in the car did remind you that it was below minus degrees outside and you were almost there. You searched for your gloves and hat, preparing yourself for the first bitter shock when you got out of the car.

“Did we bring hats?” Alexia turned down the radio a tad so she could focus on your question. “Sí, I put them in the back seat.” You smiled softly at her memory because you would have completely forgotten them.

The closer you got the more excited you began to get. You and Alexia have had this long lasting tradition (more like competition) to go see which neighbourhood had the best christmas lights.

Alexia was one hundred percent positive that she had found the best lights ever, bragging all day about how she was going to win. You had complained that it was an unfair advantage as she had lived here her whole life and you hadn’t.

It was currently 11 o’clock, the digital lights in Alexia’s cupra wouldn’t let you forget as she drove you further into the heart of barcelona. Alexia pulled into this cute little car park, you bit your lip at the vein protruding from her massive hand that was on the wheel as she reversed into a spot.

You threw her a confused glance as she unbuckled her seatbelt and hopped out of her beloved car. You knew better than to open the door instead letting her do it to prevent the pout that would inevitably invade her face.

Sure enough she appeared at your door with an adorable grin, obviously happy at the thought of doing anything helpful for you. Ever the gentlewoman, Alexia offered her hand which you gladly accepted as she gracefully helped you out of the car.

“Gracias.” You thanked in her mother tongue before planting a kiss to her awaiting lips. The midfielder locked her car as she led you to this cute looking cafe that you had never seen before.

“Is this new?” You asked her as she fixed the hat on her head. “Opened two months ago. Mapi found it and told me it had the ‘greatest hot chocolate she has ever had.”

You laughed contagiously at your wife’s impression of her best friend. “Ahhh, so we are going here just so you can prove Maria wrong.” You teased bumping your shoulder to hers. “You get me.” Alexia sighed wistfully as she wrapped a strong arm around your shoulder, effectively bringing you into her warmth as she kissed the crown of your head.

The cafe wasn’t overly busy but it did have a nice buzz which Alexia had obviously noticed by the way her eyebrows raised in surprise that her best friend might have given her a decent recommendation. She was still scarred from the time Mapi gave her food poisoning after reassuring her that it would be the best thing she would ever taste.

Alexia pushed the door open and it held it for you with her usual charming smirk that always made your knees go weak. “After you hermosa.” Her accent purred as she beckoned you through. Alexia held the door for a few other people with a polite smile before resting her arm back around your shoulder.

You cupped her flushed cheek, pressing a quick kiss to her nose as you lined up for your order. Since Alexia was on her holidays, she could finally treat herself which is why her eyes immediately zoned in on the selection of cookies.

You followed her longing gaze, giggling sweetly at how excited she looked at the thought of finally having some sugar. “Do we want sugar cookies or chocolate chip?” She mumbled as she tried to make up her mind, leg tapping impatiently while she waited for the guy in front of you to finish ordering.

“Bebita which one?” She inquired, eyes not leaving the array of sweets for too long. “We can get both. One of each.” Alexia’s hazel orbs lit up at the genius suggestion and she licked her lips unknowingly, yet another gesture that pulled a giggle from you.

After what felt like years for Alexia, the man in front finished up and it was her turn to order. You let Alecia order, although you were fluent in Spanish you adored hearing how she spoke it, often encouraging her to stop speaking english which she refused, how else was she meant to converse with your dad about his terrible choice in teams.

The barista sent Alexia a shy smile but Alexia’s focus was solely on the cookies that were sitting on the counter. Although she must not have missed it as she placed her left hand right in the poor girl's eyeline. You couldn’t help but smile in amusement as her wedding ring glistened under the bright lights.

Alexia would do just about anything to show you off claiming that she felt selfish keeping you all to herself. The barista's smile dropped a fraction when she caught sight of the piece of jewellery but she managed to throw you a tight smile anyway.

After Alexia had shoved your hand with your card in it away and tapped her card, she took your hand and led you to where the other people were waiting. Alexia pulled one of the stools out from a table and offered it to you. After you politely declined she hopped up instead, needy hands immediately finding your waist.

You now stood in between her long legs, hands coming up to fiddle with the collar of her Barcelona jacket. Her ring clad thumb tapped against your hips as she skated for your order. You didn’t fail to notice how she didn’t once take her caramel eyes off of you, orbs flitting over every feature of your face that she had already memorised more than a million times.

“Pretty.” Your wife whispered, “So pretty.” Her cheeky grin was back as she watched the blush rise on your cheeks. You shook your head in amusement before bringing your hands to interlock behind her neck. You rewarded her with a feathery kiss, twirling her baby hairs in between your fingers as she sighed happily against your lips.

A large hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans as Alexia pulled you closer. Her other hand squeezed your waist encouragingly as she nipped at your bottom lip hoping to be let in.

You pulled back a fraction just to catch your breath but your wife didn’t like that as her hand slid up to cup your jaw, tenderly angling it back towards her awaiting mouth.

“Alexia!”

It was as if you weren’t even there. The minute the barista called her name your wife had nearly thrown you off of her as she raced up to her order. You grumbled as you followed her, annoyed at the interruption.

With a soft ‘gracias’ and nothing else, she was out the door, unwrapping her cookie and scoffing it. You decided to see if she would notice that you weren’t even with her by staying inside the cafe. It took Alexia an embarrassing amount of time to realise that you were in fact not attached to her.

You had to suppress your giggle as your wife frantically began to look around for you, mouth still full. Alexia, much to her relief, finally spotted you, shoulders sagging as she made her way back to you. You met her half way, feeling slightly guilty but much too amused to not laugh.

“Where did you go?” Alexia asked around her mouthful as her hand rested on your lower back. “You left me there.” You pouted playfully. Alexias eyes widened at your pout, quickly kissing it in hopes that it would disappear, “Lo siento cariño. I was just excited to eat my cookie.” You couldn’t hold back your laugh as you thumbed a few crumbs off of her chin, “I’m playing with you baby.”

Alexia huffed amusedly, “That’s your cookie gone.” You slapped her shoulder softly before leaning in to place a languid kiss to her lips. A soft smile dances across her face as she pecks your cheek a few times.

Without a word Alexia handed you your hot drink along with a piece of the half gone chocolate chip cookie. “Come on bebita, we have lights to see.” Your wife checked your hip before racing off towards her car.

You chuckled as she ushered you into her cupra, still holding the door. As she drove you closer to your destination, you took it as your duty to break off a piece of cookie and feed it to your wife.

Alexia laughed loudly as you waved it in front of her face. She took the piece gratefully and playfully bit at your hand which made you giggle. “Mi amor stop eating it all.”

You scoffed loudly before eating even more, “I’ve had one piece Alé.” Alexia whined as you put another piece of ‘her’ cookie. “You are buying a new jar of nutella when we get home.” Alexia grumbled as you licked at your thumb. “I already have two more jars at home babe.” You break the news to her knowing that if she knew that she would have eaten both.

“We agreed! We agreed that you wouldn’t have it in the house during the season.” Alexia argued, absolutely gobsmacked at the thought of you eating nutella in her house without her.

“Just because you have to suffer doesn’t mean I have to.” You sing out as you finish your hot chocolate with an appreciative hum. “I see how it is.” You knew your wife wasn’t mad with how her eyes sparkled when she looked over at you.

Once the car was safely stopped at a red light, Alexia couldn’t stop herself but to lean over and cup you face, pulling you into a searing kiss. “Te amo mucho mi amor.”

You smiled, softly stroking her strong jaw, forehead to forehead. “Even when I eat your cookie.” Alexia hummed affectionalty, placing another tender kiss to your soft lips, “Sí, even when you eat my cookie.”

The rest of the drive was filled with laughter as Alexia told you about her catching Jana and her girlfriend making out in the storage closet just after a tough training session.

“Okay, you ready?” Alexia asked as she slowed down, nearing the neighbourhood. You nodded, giving her a soft smile when she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You gasped when you first saw the lights. Alexia knew she won, you knew she won, but god was it deserved. The whole neighbourhood was lit up in an array of colourful lights, basking you and Alexia in the prettiest glow.

“Alé, this is so beautiful.” You exhaled as your eyes were glued to a particularly pretty set of lights. “Not as beautiful as you bebita.” You hadn’t even realised Alexia had stopped the car until soft kisses were being pressed against your neck.

Your hand reached back slightly to cup the back of her neck as she left a teasing bite, soothing it with a lick. Her kisses trailed up to your cheek causing you to turn your head but instead of letting her kiss you, you pinched her chin between your fingers.

“I love you more than anything in this world Alexia Putellas.” Alexia’s breath was knocked from her lungs at the sincerity of your voice, “Por favor, let me kiss you.”

And you did.

Over and over again.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagines #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso #barcelona femeni #alexia's favourite girls

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gavisuntiedboot · 7 months ago

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We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Reader

Part 1

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: After a lot of consideration, I have decided to start posting my Pedri series. I think that I can get a lot of interaction with these, and I think it is a good way to feed my soul and get eyes on what is happening in Palestine. So please, if you enjoy this series, consider helping out Palestine. Even if it's just with a click (second link!)

(Also if there are any continuity errors pls pls pls lmk)

Operation Olive Branch is an org working to help raise money to evacuate people from Gaza. I have decided to highlight Anwar and his family, who need to raise $35,000 in order to survive. Please donate what you can:

I will continue to highlight this family on all my posts until they reach their goal inshAllah.

Synopsis: Moving to a new country can be a pain in the ass. So can starting a new job when your position is completely different to what you thought. But nothing is going to stop you from achieving your goal of being the next Law Roach. Not the language barrier, your aching feet on the wonky streets, and definitely not your annoying, full of himself client. Because everything is going to stay professional, right?

~~~

"Bryce, can you please pay attention? God, I hate Americans."

The slow and thick laughter flowed through the line, peppered with static and cutting off whenever a particularly loud vehicle rolled past.

"Self-hating much? You are also American."

"I'm Texan, sweetheart. We are basically our own breed. Now can you help me?" You were finally able to flag down a taxi, stepping in carefully to make sure you didn't flash the driver. The stark white of the flowy skirt contrasted heavily with your bright orange cowboy boots, worn to match the white "TEXAS" baby tee with orange lettering. Your bangles clinked happily against your wrist as the door closed, hair mused by the late September wind. It was a comfort-from-home turned fashion statement, a way to stay close to your roots but show everyone at the office you were the type of girl that people saved on their "cool y2k outfit inspo" Pinterest boards. At least, girls back home would.

"How the hell did you move to a foreign country without learning the language?"

"Because I was supposed to be in PARIS, remember? I didn't minor in French just for mierde and giggles."

"Yeah, yeah, and then Paris decided to self destruct. I've heard the story. Just put me on speaker already."

Through the phone, Bryce's Spanish flows fluently as she instructs the driver to deliver you at your new place of work. Style Di Fortuna was one of the best styling firms in Europe, if not the world. Located a mere two streets from the Passeig De Gracia, there was nowhere better for a young woman to start her career in the fashion world. Except you weren't supposed to be here.

The plan had been perfect. After 4 years working your fingers bloody at UT Austin, you finally turned the bright orange tassel and accepted your B.A. in fashion. You were able to say "couture" with the perfect amount of phlegm to be taken seriously by the French snobs you had interned with, the ones who were supposed to be your colleagues after you graduated. The dreams of smoky cafes, bike rides through the city, and the lights of Paris fashion week were often the only things that helped you push through your professor telling you that you sewed like a blind sloth.

But then the French did what they do best: went on strike. For months. And after the long periods of no productivity and the destruction of half the inventory, you got the concise email that you would need to find employment elsewhere. About a week before you moved to France. So in a blind panic, you applied to every job you could think of within Europe, desperate to not have your first year post grad be spent at the soup kitchen or bagging groceries. You finally heard back from one of your contacts, another alumni from your school who said they could get you a job in Spain, but it was a little far from the type of fashion you wanted to do.

A "yes please I'm begging" email and 24 hours later, you had a job with SDF. Hey, fashion is fashion, and if you have to start by styling TikTokers in sparkly mini dresses before you could get to the good stuff, so be it. There were dues to be paid after all. So you grabbed your already packed bags and changed your ticket from Paris to Barcelona.

"I can speak Spanish. I lived in Texas for 21 years. Just not... Spain Spanish." You said quietly, rummaging through your bag for the ID that had been mailed to you the week prior.

"Right, and my white ass took it in school and he seemed to understand me just fine. So you, Miss Texican, need to stop with the perpetual fear that people will think you're stupid. Be confident and just speak. The company is Italian, anyways. Most of them will probably speak English, and if not, they'll think you're exotic and sexy."

"Mhm I'm sure."

"You're going to do great, okay? Just be yourself. You had like ten billion friends at home. It's almost impossible not to like you. You got it girl - go hook 'em."

Laughter bubbled out of you at her cheesy pep talk, feeling lighter already. She was right - even if you had gotten this job on the fly, your portfolio was super impressive, and people had no trouble liking you. So what was there to be worried about. After bidding her goodbye and having the courage to thank the driver in Spanish, you stepped out of the cab to the front steps of the new building. It was much taller than the surrounding, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the lower buildings and pale stone. Making your way up to the 16th floor, you were quickly ushered past bolts of bright fabric, racks of shoes worth millions, and some very stressed (yet very stylish) other employees.

"So excited that you're going to be joining our team! It is going to be so helpful having some international input to make sure we are not pigeon-holing our clients into fashion that is not received well globally. You will be reporting directly to Katerina, and she will report to me. Your colleagues are mostly male given the nature of the division. But Tania, Silvia, and Maria should be a good support as you move into the role. We also have Juliana who is between here and the Milan office. So it isn't a complete boy's club."

Huh?

After years in fashion, one thing you definitely knew was that it often was not a "boy's club". Sure, all the suits and big investors were often old and withered men, but most of the creative side of the business had been run by almost fully female teams (and the exceedingly rare stylish man).

"I'm sorry, the nature of the team? What do you mean?" You asked, trying to keep smiling while running after her towards a more and more barren part of the office.

"Sorry, was it not included in your offer letter? You're working in our athletics division. We are horribly understaffed in that department, especially now that we have taken on all the Adidas athletes in Spain. My word there are a lot of them. Bellingham alone needs three team members for every event."

No no no no no. This cannot be happening. You had come in prepared to style a lot of things: prom dresses, lingerie, even the scraps of fabrics that were rented out by the local burlesque show. But sports???

Now don't get it twisted, this isn't some "I'm a girl and I don't know anything about sports!" kind of thing. On the contrary. You were at every football game rocking the longhorns, cheering on your friends as they crushed it at basketball, and even tried watching a formula 1 race (there was a three car crash and you fainted) - you were totally hip with sports. Although you were not a fan of stretch materials or athleisure, you were willing to bite the bullet as a first step. The issue was the hidden undertones of your job. It was the fact that you would be working with, from what you could surmise, a lot of male athletes.

Bryce was right - it did feel like you had ten billion friends back home. Everywhere you went, you spoke to strangers with ease, and people warmed quickly, conversation flowing and bonds forming. But that's the issue: everyone seemed to warm to you, and so it meant a lot of male attention. And despite your best efforts, you always made a "too flirty" comment to someone's crush or "inappropriately smiling" at someone's boyfriend. And so as fast as they liked you, suddenly you were public enemy #1, and the drama became all-consuming.

No one seemed to understand. There was constant advice to just brush it off, to ignore the people who brought pain to your life. But you couldn't help it, laying in bed, stomach in knots, questioning why no one could see that you were just trying to be kind to everyone around you. The cycle of worrying had created a very isolating experience.

"Tania! Where are the other girls? I want to introduce you to the newest member of the team."

A girl with blown out black hair turns around, double nose piercings taking a back seat to a piercing charcoal stare. She was in high waisted jeans and a leopard print button up, the first two unbuttoned to show off the black strap of her bra. Her neck was adorned with a simple gold cross necklace, and she flashed a cordial smile as she stuck out a hand.

"I love your shoes." You said sweetly as you exchanged a shake, eager to make your first friend at work (and maybe in all of Spain).

"Oh, thank you. Dolce and Gabanna - they're friends of the firm. Your shoes are..." She gave a glance to the cowboy boots you had on, "muy naranja" (very orange).

You crossed your legs, self confidence waning after she addressed you like you had traffic cones on your legs. You were introduced to Silvia (a tall girl with short blonde hair and vintage Adidas Sambas paired with boxer shorts) and Maria (dark blue hair slicked back to show off her Italian football jersey). All of them oozed the coolest essence, and you were excited to get to know them.

"Alright, girls, not too much chattering. Barca arrives in 15 minutes, and there is not a single jersey in sight. Lets go! Rápidamente!"

A gasp spread across the room, accompanied with a groan from Roberto in the back, and there was suddenly a mad dash. Stretch fabrics in a hundred different colors were flying across the room, and it seemed like no one could move fast enough.

"I'm sorry to ask but... what is a barca?"

Silvia's sambas squeaked loudly as she came to a halt, whipping her neck towards you. Her eyebrows knitted together, looking at you like you had just said Jesus was a goat.

"Who is Barca? You cannot be serious. Please don't say anything like that when they walk in the door. Just stand out of the way and do some googling. We will fill you in when the team leaves."

You stepped back towards the mannequins, trying not get trampled by the other employees. A quick search on Instagram gave you the basics. Soccer (or well, football now) team that was super famous. SDF was tagged in their post from their TV series premier, so you came to the conclusion that they were long time clients. You were so consumed with your search that you didn't notice the gaggle of young men enter the constricted space until you heard a chorus of voices chant "Bon Dia, Pedri!"

You glance up, trying to see the man that the girls were addressing, but he was covered by a crowd, which was comprised of Tania, Silvia, and girls from the other departments of the building (you could have sworn that red head worked at the café in the lobby).

"Bon dia, ladies."

The giggles that came as response were far too exaggerated for just politeness, and before you could roll your eyes, you heard the gag from beside you and turned to who was ultimately Maria.

"Don't mind the girls. They aren't usually like this, but their brain turns to mush around the magician."

"The magician?"

Almost as if planned, the swarm of girls parted in that moment, a pair of sickly sweet molasses eyes meeting yours, holding your gaze in something that felt warm and almost intimate. His stubbled cheeks spread into an infectious smile, and suddenly a gorgeous man in a hideous pair of jeans was giving you a subtle wave across the room.

"Pedri "The Magician" Gonzalez, current reigning golden boy at FC Barcelona. Who knew God could pack so much talent and trouble into such a small package? Anyways, the other girls in the office are obsessed with him. They all think they're going to be the special little snowflake to pull him away from the line of Instagram models waiting to jump in bed."

As you listened intently to Maria's rant about the sports star, the two of you couldn't keep your eyes away. As Tania and Silvia went back and forth, talking his brain into oatmeal, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who is the new girl?"

Pedri Gonzalez was many things: a generational talent, a laid back 20 year old, and (though less known) a shit-stirrer. These monthly team visits to SDF ranked very highly on his list of favorite activities. He was able to sit with his teammates as they watched some of the hottest girls in Europe fall over themselves just for a kind word or a prolonged glance. He just wished the boys would have seen the way they moved when he came in for personal sessions whenever there was a new Adidas campaign. Not even the king was served so wonderfully.

As the team bus parked outside the building, he lazily draped one arm over Gavi's shoulders, ripping his attention away from his phone screen.

"You know she does have a life outside of answering your texts, Gavi."

There was no attempt to hide or deny, just a continued scowl coupled with scrunched brows.

"She was really weird during the drive home the other day. After Martin was a little bitch on the field, she hasn't been the same. I think there's something wrong, but I don't want to push her away. I just want her to be happy."

"Ay, you'll have lots of time to make her happy after you confess your undying love in her passenger seat and kill her boyfriend." Pedri quipped back, taking a few careful steps off the bus and rushing into the building, the squeals of his name from adoring fans fading into the background.

"Okay, maybe not the best idea I've ever had, but now you do have work with Adidas and Springfield and all the other brands that want a piece of Pedri Potter." The nickname earned Gavi a light smack on the back of the head. "So in the end, I did you a favor."

The boys make their way upstairs, greeted at the elevator by Pedri's fan club.

"Bon dia, ladies."

"Bon dia, Pedri. We missed you."

Gavi tried to tone down the look of confusion that painted his features, watching these two girls trail behind his teammate in a way that was anything but professional. But there was a natural air to Pedri that had women swooning whenever he uttered a sentence, so Gavi supposed this situation would be no different than the one he had seen before in the club, at the beach, in the grocery store - basically anywhere Pedri went. He said a silent thank you to the powers that be that their types were vastly different.

The girls vying for his attention were promptly shooed away, with only the two who were actually part of their styling team remaining. Pedri scanned the room, making a mental note of who he would be looking up on the SDF Instagram once he was done for the day. He was a humble young man, but he wasn't self depreciating. He knew the number of women that wanted him was rising into 6-figure range, and he was not one to deprive himself of a pleasure that wasn't closely regulated by the staff over at Camp Nou. He loved entertaining the occasional tryst with an influencer or model or bottle service girl - whoever caught his eye for the evening. The world was his field, and boy was he ready to sow.

His newest playthings were his regular stylists. Since he was going to be spending a lot more time at the firm, he decided to at least enjoy himself a little bit. He dropped casual compliments, noticed the changes they made to their appearance, let them talk his ears off about how well he did in the previous match. Whatever they wanted he would provide. Why not? He was young and single. If they were to delude themselves into thinking he was going to settle down and take a wife at this stage of his career, then really they had no one but themselves to blame.

Tania and Silvia were nothing if not wholly entertaining. They always bounced around the office together, blonde and black hair making them look like a salt and pepper shaker set. Today, they dedicated themselves to dressing Pedri in the vintage Barca jerseys that were being photographed, leaving the rest of the squad to be dealt with by Maria, Roberto, and the bright spot in the corner of the office that caught Pedri's eye.

"Who is the new girl?"

He knew the question was going to cause the bile to rise in the throats of the two girls in front of him, who were already milliseconds away from killing each other if it meant he would take the survivor to dinner. But there was something about the flash of color that had caught his eye, hair falling in front of a pretty face that was glued to a screen and trying to stay out of the way.

"What new girl?" The response came from Tania, the more jealous of the pair by a mile. Pedri had often caught her stalking his account, his brother's account, and the account of every girl DeuxMoi "spotted" him with during the international breaks.

"Her. In the corner. She's new, right? That's someone I would remember seeing." He raised his head to get a better look at her, taking in the tight shirt and bright colors, watching her jewelry sway along as Maria (his least favorite in the office by far) called her over to help dress the rest of the team. The girls whipped around, taking in the same view that Pedri was.

"La naranja?!" Tania asked, disgust evident in her louder-than-appropriate tone. At the use of what was quickly becoming your office nickname, you looked towards the sound of the commotion, seeing Pedri staring intently at you once again. And while the depth of his gaze threatened to ignite a warmth somewhere within your chest, it was Tania's furious expression that had your heart racing in fear. You hadn't even been at work for an hour - what could you have possible done to have invoked such a murderous glare?

"I didn't think foreign girls were your type." Silvia said, much calmer but tone still icy.

"Maybe I just like the color orange." He replied smoothly, whipping off his shirt to slip into the one from 1980 that he would be modeling for the Barca site. The sight of bare skin was enough to make his playthings forget their rage, being replaced by lustful stares and lingering touches as they "adjusted" the fabric over his pecs about 20 times over.

"I think orange is a hideous color on girls." Tania couldn't help but mutter and she fixed his collar, putting in a couple pins so it wouldn't move as he walked to the photographer.

"I think the ugliest color on a girl is jealousy green." Pedri's eyes met hers in a silent warning. She was officially nothing more than one of his stylists. He was a busy man, and the last thing he needed was for his distractions to become a new stressor. He was notorious for being quick to cut girls off for the most superficial reasons, and Tania was not eager to be one of those deprived of his affections. She smiled sweetly, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Oh, of course. Especially when there is obviously nothing to be jealous of. Go welcome her on her first day - if she can even understand a thing you're saying. I don't think the American school system teaches Canarian." She left Pedri in that moment, calling sweetly to Ferran to come get dressed.

"Ay, Gavi, I knew you were short, but they can't even find pants that fit you now?"

The sudden voice behind you made you jump, causing a yelp from Gavi, who had been stabbed with a stray pin due to your scare. Your head whipped around, meeting that same smile that was brighter up close.

"Perdon, Naranja. Didn't mean to startle you."

Your eyebrows came together, a small frown on your features.

"I don't know what Tania told you, but that's not my name."

"I didn't think it was, but it's quite fitting, don't you think? A cute nickname for a cute girl."

The complement caught you off guard, and your mouth dropped open, reply unable to form in your mind. Was he seriously flirting with you? After half the office just threw themselves at his feet?

"Thank you, but I would really prefer if you called me-"

"Your accent is strange. Where are you from?" Pedri cuts you off, giving you a once over and taking in your figure, focusing intently on the writing across your chest.

"Texas. Can't you read?" You asked, growing more annoyed by the minute. Maria would be back any second to grab the boy who you were hemming, now identified as Gavi. You weren't eager to be seen as a slacker on day damn one.

"Houston?" He asked, accent preventing him from getting the "S" in the word quite right. "My brother used to live there for a bit."

"San Antonio, actually. But I went to school in Austin." As desperately as you wanted to make a good impression on your first day, something inside your chest wanted to make a good impression on Pedri, who was listening intently to the mini tour of Texas you were giving him.

"Is that close to Dallas? We are meant to play a game there in the summer. Maybe you can come along, show me around your city." He punctuated his sentence with a wink. You wanted to speak, tell him that Austin was actually several hours from Dallas, San Antonio even further. But your heartbeat was in your ears, and you could do nothing but nod along.

Pedri was not much better off. He had spoken to some of the most gorgeous women in Europe, maybe even the world in his mere 22 years on the planet, but something about the way you looked at him while speaking, eyes locked onto his, made his heart race in a way that was foreign but not unenjoyable.

"Hey! Hurry up - they need Gavi next. Or are you incapable of putting in a couple pins?" It was Silvia barking down at you, causing you to tear your gaze away from Pedri and back to Gavi's leg. Thankfully, the boy was typing away and didn't notice the break you had taken to chat with his teammate. "Pedri, stop distracting la naranja with your flirting and go get a pair of shoes from Maria."

You burned with embarrassment, the nickname turning from something affectionate to something sour, used to remind you of your outsider status as 'Cinderella' was reminded of her place by the coals.

"I was just being friendly." Pedri said, standing to follow her instructions.

"I think you have enough friends in the office." She bites back, shoving him lightly towards the wall of sneakers.

Your cheeks burn, embarrassment causing your hands to tremble as you continue hemming the trousers in front of you. Maria had gone out of her way to warn you that Pedri was off limits, and yet here you were again: persona non grata with your coworkers because some boy had taken an interest in you.

"You speak really good Spanish for someone from America." A quiet voice said from above you. Looking up, Gavi was gazing down at you, distracted by his phone every few seconds.

"I'm half Mexican, and most people in Texas speak Spanish anyways." You reply, trying to tone down the annoyance in your tone.

"Oh, I didn't know that. My friend- eh, physiotherapist also studied in America. She has this really cute accent when she says some of her words now." You watched his eyes glaze over in a way they probably shouldn't if he was just talking about his doctor.

"You don't have to make conversation with me, you know." You mutter back, scared that maybe this player was Maria's and you would sever the final connection you had left in the office inadvertently.

"Oh. I didn't mean to annoy you." The tone in his voice and his crestfallen expression made you feel like you had just kicked a puppy.

"Oh no! You're not. I just... It seems like I just pissed off the girls by talking to Pedri, and I don't want to make any other mistakes."

He laughed, eyes crinkling and head tilting back. "Pedri is a special case. When you flirt with everything that moves, someone is bound to be upset eventually."

The admission caused a pit to form in your stomach. Everything that moves? The romantic heat you felt earlier cooled into a slimy, sickening emotion. What kind of person toyed with people's feelings for fun? As you entertained the thought, you tapped Gavi on the leg, instructing him to hop off the stand and go get photographed. A shadow loomed over your form as you tidied pins from the floor of the workroom.

"So, I believe you were about to give me your address before we were so rudely interrupted." It was Pedri, returning with a grin, standing coolly with his hands in the pockets of his cargos. "Of if that's too personal, I'll settle for a phone number. Or an Instagram handle - I'm not picky."

"I can tell." You muttered back, unease still sitting in your chest. You avoided his gaze, chewing nervously on your bottom lip and directing your eyes to anything but Pedri.

"I'm sorry about Silvia. She can be... intense. And let me just go ahead and apologize for Tania as well, in advance. They're weirdly possessive over me for some reason." Pedri sounded sincere, eyes doing their best to catch yours and convey his message.

"Don't worry about it. I can see why you're so popular." You shuffled to collect stray pins off the floor. Pedri was not like any other guy you had ever been attracted to. Usually they were tall, lanky frat boy types, all blue eyes and khaki shorts. But the combination of beautiful brown eyes brushed by dark hair, chiseled jaw and plump lips, and strong arms that lifted a mannequin out of your way did weird things to your heart and your stomach.

"Can you now?" He was smirking. You could practically hear it in his voice, the amusement dripping from every syllable. He was obviously completely unbothered by your clear signs of distress.

"Yeah. Every girl I ever knew wanted to be the sugar baby of an athlete. Watch out or you'll get your bank account drained." Despite your best efforts to come across as cutting and sharp, he laughed at the statement. A full head thrown back and hands on his belly type of laugh.

"It's been a long time since I've spoken to a girl as funny as you." His eyes held yours, and the look was so captivating you simply couldn't avert your gaze. In that moment, it was also lost on you that you had, in fact, only made one joke. You responded with a half smile and heat radiating from you.

"Hey listen, a couple of the boys and I are going out tonight. You should come with us."

The invitation started to knock some sense back into you. Out? As in out out? Back home, going out usually meant getting shit-faced and riding a mechanical bull. It wasn't the best look to pull up to work the following morning looking like death and smelling like tequila. You were already on the way to holding the record for the worst first day in history.

"I don't know... I think Tania would put Nair in my shampoo if we were seen together when not contractually obligated."

You looked up shyly, and a part of you waited for him to insist, to feel somewhat special.

"Ah, I won't make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. Just DM me on Instagram if you change your mind. I'm not hard to find."

"Do you answer DMs from every girl that finds you?" You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

"No. But I'll be looking out for yours."

Another voice called out to Pedri, and he left you standing there slack-jawed. Who was this man? And what was so special about you to have piqued his interest? You asked these same questions of Bryce, who was now fully awake.

"Girl, the answer is obvious." She said through face time, words garbled by her teeth-brushing.

"Please don't say-"

"You're hot."

"That. Bryce, these girls in the office, they're stunners. 10s across the board. If he was going for looks, he wouldn't be going for me."

"I think you're over-thinking this whole thing. He just wants to talk to you for now," She paused to spit, "So talk! What's the worst that could happen?"

A shrill voice cried out 'Naranja!' and the trill of your new unwelcome work nickname was the signal that your lunch was over. You trudged back into the office, abandoning the warmth and sunshine for the cold front put up by Tania and Silvia. They bumped you every time they walked past, making comments about your clothing, your hair, the speed of your work, your taste level - everything. You stuck close to Maria, getting only two smug "I told you so's" before it was back to business. The boys left a disaster in their wake, with jerseys, trousers, socks, shoes, and all manners of accessories scattered about the workroom. Maria exchange stories of her childhood in Rome for your escapades in San Antonio and Austin, and the day passed with relative ease. Katerina click-clacks into the room an hour before your sweet release, huddling together everyone who worked with the team for a summary of what was accomplished.

"Great job team. I think Barca will be very happy with the photos, which will make me very happy. Now," Katerina handed out a series of files to everyone in the circle. "As some of you know, we have been fighting tooth and nail against Fordham Fashions for the new Adidas Rising Stars contract. Well, we have finally won! Here are the clients that we will be working with closely for individual Adidas campaigns, collaborations, and so on."

Opening the file, a familiar face grinned back from the first page.

"Everyone already knows Pedri, so we will move past him. Now, let us begin the style briefing for Bellingham..."

You stared for another moment at the bright grin on the page before turning it to take notes on everything Katerina was saying. The meeting wrapped 30 minutes later, with one final request from the boss.

"The new Predator boots have just come in from Adidas. We will be sending a pair to each of our athletes to allow them to adjust before we style and shoot in the coming weeks. And to avoid another, ehem, hair pulling incident, the new girl will be sending Pedri's. Sort the rest out among yourselves. See you tomorrow!"

The glares burned your skin before you even had the chance to process that the 'new girl' in question was you. Everyone scurried to the wall of blue shoe boxes as you looked over the brief again to find the man of the hour's shoe size. Pulling it out of the pile, you moved to a far corner of the workroom, but that did not seem to stop Tania from coming your way.

"So, you think Pedri likes you?"

The statement caught you off guard, hands slowing and your eyes widening at your coworker.

"Excuse me?"

"You think that now he's going to date you just because he laughed at one of your jokes? Because trust me, you're not his type."

You were prepared to rebut, tell her that she had completely misunderstood the situation, and you were just being nice to a client. But it died on your lips as the meaning of her words washed over you like an icy tidal wave, leaving you to pathetically whisper out,

"Why not?"

Her laugh trickled out lightly, delicate and beautiful and cutting all at once.

"Just look at you, Naranja. Anyways, this is a note from the agency that needs to be included in Pedri's box, so slip it in there, 'kay? See you tomorrow!"

Swallowing thickly, you didn't watch her walk away, staring at the table top to stop the flood of emotions that was clogging your throat. You knew you weren't ugly. Quite the opposite actually. It usually only took a coy glance and the bat of an eyelash for you to have people eating from the palm of your hand. But the self doubt started to eat away at you. What was wrong with the way you looked?

And then your eyes focused on the crisp white envelope on the table. The girly scrawl of Pedri was too... romantic to be a formal note. The green slime of jealousy seeped through every one of your veins. You took a quick look around the room, and finding no one, you carefully opened the envelope. Immediately a strong perfume assaulted your senses. The letter was a quick confession of love, and you couldn't help the increase in your heart rate. If your coworker was determined to hate you, then you should at least give her a reason.

Your childish antics came two fold. First, you tiptoed over to the cabinet with the stationary, grabbing a blank envelope and some corrector fluid. You carefully removed Tania's name from the bottom of the letter, writing in a little "S" with a heart beside it. You refolded the letter and placed it into the new perfume-less envelope. The letter found its home in the shoe box, and on your way out of the building, you dropped it off at the mail room. As you waited for your cab home, you typed five familiar letters into the Instagram search bar, and sent a message asking,

"Am I still invited out tonight?"

Pedri could not contain the Cheshire cat grin that lit up his face when he saw the DM from you. Scrolling quickly through your Instagram, he zoomed in on your pictures from the summer, swimsuits the same bright orange that had hugged your chest earlier that day. He responded quickly, telling you that you would be the highlight of the entire outing, and as he predicted, your phone number quickly followed.

"See, Gavi? I told you." He turned the screen to his teammate, who could not possibly be less interested. Being met with silence, he quickly snatched Gavi's phone from his hands, eliciting a protest.

"Gavi, this is an intervention. You need to stop this sad puppy behavior. After the sixth unanswered text, it's time to accept that she's not going to respond."

Pedri almost regretted it as soon as he said it, the sunken look painting Gavi's features being too much to bear. It was like taking a baby's favorite toy away.

"I just mean that she's probably busy, hermano. She'll respond when she can. Now, back to me."

Gavi rolled his eyes and leaned back against Pedri's couch. He displayed his most exasperated expression.

"Please, Pedri. Tell me again how you got a girl to swoon for you in a matter of minutes. It's always my favorite story."

Gavi barely missed the pillow chucked at his head, but pressed on anyways.

"Come on, Pedri. It's the same story every week. Find a cute girl, flirt, invite her out, sleep with her, and then block her on all your socials."

"Okay but this one is different. She's my first American."

Gavi gave him a look that told Pedri that maybe the joke should have been reserved for Ferran. Despite all the wisdom Pedri had imparted, Gavi hadn't listened. Instead of taking advantage of the swarm of women ready to show him heaven, he had gone and fallen in love with one of his coworkers. Sheesh. What a stupid idea. But he had never seen Gavi, or anyone really, care so much about a person. So he was being a good friend, just pretending that this love story wouldn't go down in flames (badum-tsss).

Pedri was not willing to be a hopeless lover boy. He killed himself on the pitch, and there was no way he wasn't going to enjoy life after the whistle blew.

"I just don't think it's an idea to start involving girls you're going to have to see again."

The statement cut straight through Pedri's daydream of what you would wear to the club that evening. Gavi may have been right. When messing with Instagram models, it was easy to avoid previous flings. A block online, a slip of their photo to Camp Nou security, and worst case scenario, when they came up to him at an event, he just put on his best confused face and asked, "Do I know you?"

But this was new territory. He had toyed around with Tania and Silvia for months now, but it never left the office. Inviting a girl who he would have to see again and again for work out was risky. But the risk-assessing brain cells were on vacation. All that was left were the party neurons, the ones that craved dopamine and finding out what your skin would feel like against his palms. So he pushed all of Gavi's valid objections into a dark corner of his brain. He opted instead to ask,

"So, are you coming out tonight as well?"

Gavi lifted his hoodie up to cover his face, using all his self control to not grab his phone from its place on the coffee table.

"I don't think so. I'm not in the mood to see Ferran or... anyone really. Just want to sit home and watch my show."

"Suit yourself then. I'll let you know how the night ends."

"I'm begging you not to."

You smoothed your hands over your dress one final time. You were pacing around your living room, eagerly waiting for Pedri to pick you up. Despite your best efforts to assure him that you could Uber yourself to the club, he refused, and you couldn't help the giddy feeling at the gentlemanly antics.

Staring at yourself in the mirror once again, you thought of the dates you had been on in your senior year of college. From darties on frat lawns to drive-thrus to fine dining, many guys had tried to win your favor. It wasn't that all of them sucked (even if the majority did). It was just that the guys back home in America were... boring. All of them were pretty self centered and shallow, nice to look at but nothing deeper. While a pretty boy was nice at 19, it was time to grow up and look for something more.

The buzzing of your phone knocked you out of the trance you were in. "Pedri from work" illuminated the screen as you rushed to answer.

"I was going to come in and knock on your door, but I can't get into your building."

You laughed lightly in response, apologizing about the door code while grabbing a jacket and heading downstairs. A low whistle greeted you, dark eyes tracing your figure with a look that you tried not to interpret for your own sanity. A shy smile played across your features as you allowed Pedri to open your car door, sweet talk you throughout the drive, and escort you in to what was more of a lounge than a club. Live musicians played just loud enough for ambiance, but not enough to completely drown out everyone chattering amongst themselves. The two of you walked up to a table of Greek Gods, which you assumed were his teammates.

Pedri introduced you to the group, making sure that his body was physically situated between you and Ferran. He was a good guy somewhere deep, deep down, buried under the anguish of his last girlfriend, who left him upon finding out about the pay reduction that came with moving from Manchester City to FCB. Pedri tried to stop him from taking out his rage on a coworker (and Gavi's crush), but he was hard headed and couldn't be swayed. Eventually he would calm down, and they could go back to being young and single and not bitter. Pedri's phone glowed with a notification from the boy on his mind.

[Gaviiii]: dude i foujd her outside my house just sitting in her car n cryng so im gonna take care of that

[Gaviiii]: dont tect me or call me im not gonna answer

The typos were normal, as it was hard for Gavi to avert his eyes for even one second when his most precious was in sight. Pedri shook off the text and turned his attention back to you, arm coming to rest around your waist in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You were not comforted. On the contrary, you were on the verge of throwing up. You were one of only two girls in a circle of incredibly attractive men, the other being someone's wife. You couldn't remember the names of any of them, except for Ferran, who you had been specifically warned about on the drive over. The devil really is a charmer. His short cropped hair showed the angels of his face beautifully, long lashes fanning against his cheeks. A few tattoos peaked out from under rolled up sleeved, and you had to remember that you were with his friend on a... what was this exactly? Pedri had never said anything more than that he wanted to be friends. But he asked you to go out with him, picked you up, gave you the pre-date compliments, and now was shielding you from other men. Were you on a date?

You tried your best to participate in small talk, listening to them go back and forth about football and training and life in general. The various accent were not kind to your brain that was barely used to the Canarian lilt to Pedri's speech.

"Are you okay?"

The whisper came softly in your ear, hot breath against you skin causing an eruption of little bumps. Pedri's arm had not left your waist, but now he was rubbing delicate circles into your skin.

"I'm fine. Just... a little overwhelmed? I feel sort of out of place."

"Don't worry, linda. No one can take their eyes off you."

The affirmation only increased your heart rate once again, the thump against your chest beating in rhythm with the base from the speakers. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his palm against your skin, radiating through the fabric of your dress. You loosened up as the evening progressed, participating in the conversation more confidently and laughing more freely. Slowly, the boys excused themselves from the gathering one by one, and soon it was only you and Pedri in the low light, talking about the most beautiful scenery you have ever seen.

He was lost in describing his home island, the clear waters and lush foliage that he called home. You leaned forward, enraptured by the passion that he spoke with about the places and people he loved. Slowly, you found yourself getting closer and closer, until there was only a few inches of space between you. The gold flecks interspersed in dark brown became clearer, and you struggled to breathe as you watched Pedri's gaze drift to your lips.

"I am getting the impression you want me to kiss you. Please correct me if that's not the case." Pedri breathed out slowly, more strained than you had previously thought. You don't know what you were thinking. Maybe you weren't thinking. You just acted on what felt right. Closing the distance, you joined Pedri's lips to yours, arms around his neck as you kissed with a hunger borderline inappropriate for the public.

You weren't usually this person. It was usually a couple dates before you would allow for a goodnight kiss, let alone the almost make-out you were currently engaged in. You pulled away from Pedri, the heavy breathing a commonality between the two of you. Maybe it was the being in Spain. Maybe it was that he was hot and young and famous. Maybe it was that of all the girls throwing themselves at him, including your coworkers, he picked you after an hour of conversation. Something told you to take a chance on what could be your love at first sight moment. So when Pedri leaned close and asked,

"Do you want to go back to your place?"

There was no answer but yes.

The following morning was filled with bliss. Pedri had woken up just as the first rays of sunlight were painting the stone. He kissed you on the cheek, whispering something akin to "see you around" before he left to training. You floated through your morning, making a coffee in a daze and dressing with a permanent smile. Bryce was still fast asleep, so you left her about 30 minutes worth of voice messages before you had the guts to step out and hail your own cab to work.

You walked into the office still riding the high from the night before. Your skin was ablaze, and every time you thought of the "activities", heat spread through you rapidly. Luckily the November chill kept you from sweating through your bones. Your bliss lasted for most of the morning, as you worked with Maria and a couple of people you had never met to create a mood board for an upcoming photoshoot. As you flipped through paint swatches, a piercing scream split the air, causing you to drop to the ground and cover your head.

"Why are you on the floor, Naranja?"

One of the boys looked at you with raised eyebrows, and a part of your brain registered that your new work nickname had trickled into other departments.

"Oh, sorry. I went to high school in America. Screams like that meant someone was getting jumped. Or shot."

Another scream rippled through the hallway as Maria helped you up.

"That was Silvia. Given recent history, your prediction about her being attacked might be correct."

The both of you scurried down the hall, the clicks of the other department workers followed behind you, eager for the newest and juiciest chisme. The sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks. Roberto was holding Tania by the waist, apparently the only thing that was keeping her away from Silvia, who was on the other side of the room crying and grabbing her head. There was a trail of silver thread between the two hysterical women. No, not thread - hair.

"She cut my hair! She came up behind me and cut my hair!"

"She's a traitor and, more importantly, a whore! I should've slit her throat."

Katerina had finished ushering everyone who didn't work there out of the room, and now she was standing in the middle of the room ready to mediate.

"You two have 5 minutes to explain what the hell happened and why I shouldn't fire you."

Tania had calmed, no longer straining against an iron grip and gaze filled with slightly less murderous intent. She released the clump of hair that she had in her hand onto the floor, revealing the absolute carnage that had taken place. Safe to say Silvia was going to be rocking a pixie cut for the next few weeks. Both of the girls remained silent. The prisoner's dilemma in real time. Katerina clicked her tongue after the moment of silence and simply said, "Roberto."

You could swear you saw a smile on his face briefly before he cleared his throat and began.

"Tania gave the new girl a note with her phone number in it to send to Pedri. Pedri texts the phone number, but instead of addressing it correctly, he says-"

"HEY SILVIA. THIS MORNING HE TEXTS MY NUMBER WITH HER NAME." Tania's outburst had everyone stand up, fearing that she was going to lunge. She remained in place, but no one sat back down.

"So you decided to attack her because he can't tell you two apart?"

"She must have done something to my note. She-"

"No." Katerina interrupted. "I have hear enough. Both of you are no longer working on any project Pedro Gonzalez is involved in."

Protests came from both of the girls, suddenly sullen and docile. They began to plead to be punished with anything else, but not exile from their favorite footballer. As they whimpered to your boss, who reminded them they were lucky to still be employed, it dawned on you. This morning. He texted who he thought was Silvia this morning. In response to a flirty message. After he left your bed. Maybe before he had even left the apartment.

There it was again. The nausea. The urge to projectile vomit. All because of Pedro Gonzalez. Fuck a nickname. He was a rich fuckboy that had played you like a fiddle. You held the tears back as you went back to fabric swatches, taking a moment to block him on Instagram.

"So, how does it feel to be Pedri's personal stylist now?" Katerina startled you, and the shock caused a delay in processing what she had just said.

"His what?"

"Well, now that those two are not allowed to be within 50 meters of him, it's only you and Maria working the Adidas contract. Especially now that Roberto is part of the Olympics team. So you get Pedri, and she gets Bellingham. Perfect, no?"

You nodded, swallowing hard to push the bile back down. This very unfortunate one night stand maybe have been the worst idea you have ever had. You walked through the rest of the day with disgust and rage flowing through you. You decided to brave the cold of the November afternoon and walk home, stopping by a bakery to get something with chocolate to keep the tidal wave of intense depression at bay.

How could this be happening? You weren't this girl. You weren't someone who let yourself be gullible and played. Hell, you had gone the last four years with all of Texas and parts of Mexico vying for your affection. But this little Spanish boy took advantage of the connection you felt, and he had barely left your bed before starting to text your coworker. Your phone buzzed with several messages in rapid succession.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: My agent just told me you were my own personal stylist

[Pedro Gonzalez]: that's good to hear.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: At least I'll have a friend at all these long and boring photoshoots

No mention of the night before. No "I had a good time". No question about your wellbeing. Nothing except his own self interest. How the situation would be good for him. Again. You felt awful as you pushed a teenage boy out of the way, barely making it into the bathroom before throwing your guts up. What the hell. How did you manage to fuck up so poorly so quickly? It was day damn one. And now you were throwing up in a bakery bathroom in Spain because of a man that's 5'9". You sat at a table, cake and coffee cooling in front of you. You didn't trust your legs or your stomach just yet, so you decided to type out a response instead.

Pedri was in overall low spirits. His injury had had another flare up, causing him to limp to the locker room. The email from his agent brightened his day, as he saw your name in the email. He shot a quick text your way, excited at the prospect of seeing you again, only to sour at the response.

[Naranja]: dont speak to me pedro

[Naranja]: we are not friends

[Naranja]: and we never will be

[You can no longer send messages to this user]

~~~

A/N: Here it is! The first part of the new series! Just some preemptive answers: I don't know what my posting schedule will look like and idk how many parts it's going to be. I hope you enjoy this first part. It might be a little rushed because I just wanted to set up the main story. Please let me know your thoughts in comments and asks! I'll try to reply to as many as I can. I love you all <3

Palestine: I will try to donate $1 for every comment that has a watermelon or an olive in it. I will keep y'all updated with how it goes.

Here are some more links to please please please look at while you're here.

Care for Gaza: an org that has been getting help and aid to people on the ground -> https://www.gofundme.com/f/careforgaza

Daily click that donates money to help Palestinians -> https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

#gavisuntiedboot #gub we cant be friends #pedri #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri imagine #pedri blurb #pedri gonzalez #pedri x y/n #pedri x you #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri fanfic #footballer #football rpf #football fanfic

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emilyflorencescdblog · 1 year ago

Text

Thanksgiving is Ruined At the center of every Thanksgiving meal is the most important part: the turkey. This year, it fell upon me to prepare the turkey for our yearly dinner. I was ecstatic to be in charge of such an essential component of the meal, but at the same time, very nervous. It was a lot of pressure to cook the turkey to perfection, with the hope that everyone would love it.

The task for me personally wasn't an easy one. Leave it in the oven too little, and you have an undercooked turkey, risking food poisoning for your guests. Leave it in too long, and you run the risk of having a really dry turkey or, much worse, burning it.

I wasn't going to take any risks. I wanted my turkey to be the best anyone had ever tasted, so I set up a stool next to the oven and sat and watched, guarding that turkey for hours. I made sure to check it every now and then. I wanted to be ready when that turkey turned into a mouth-watering, golden-brown, crispy meal ready for all my guests to devour.

Well, it turns out I lost track of time. I thought my plan of guarding it was foolproof, so I never thought about setting an alarm. Before I knew it, I couldn't remember when I put the turkey in the oven, and when the guests started arriving, being the host that I am, I got caught up in taking care of my guests and completely forgot about the turkey. Before I knew it, the aroma of something burning started to fill my home, and my internal alarm immediately went off—I had forgotten about the turkey.

Fearing the worst, I hurried to the kitchen, and as I opened the oven, thick smoke billowed out, consuming me. My heart sank. Unknowingly, I reacted by taking off my skirt to blow the smoke away, revealing a blackened, burnt turkey. It was crispy, alright—just much more than I wanted it to be.

I had ruined the turkey. I had ruined my skirt. I had ruined Thanksgiving. ------------------------------------------- El Día de Acción de Gracias está arruinado En el centro de cada comida de Acción de Gracias se encuentra la parte más importante: el pavo. Este año me tocó a mí preparar el pavo para nuestra cena anual. Estaba exultante de estar a cargo de un componente tan esencial de la comida, pero al mismo tiempo, muy nerviosa. Fue mucha presión cocinar el pavo a la perfección, con la esperanza de que a todos les encantara.

La tarea para mí personalmente no fue fácil. Si lo dejo muy poco en el horno, tendré un pavo crudo, lo que correrá el riesgo de intoxicación alimentaria para mis invitados. Déjalo cocinar demasiado tiempo y corres el riesgo de tener un pavo muy seco o, peor, quemado.

No iba a correr ningún riesgo. Quería que mi pavo fuera el mejor que todos en probado, así que puse mi silla al lado del horno y me senté y observé, cuidando ese pavo por horas. Me aseguré de chequear lo de vez en cuando. Quería estar lista cuando el pavo estuviera un color cafe dorado y crujiente listo para que todos mis invitados lo devoraran.

Bueno, resulta que perdí la noción del tiempo. Pensé que mi plan de estar al pendiente era infalible, así que nunca pensé en poner una alarma. Al pasar el tiempo, no podía recordar cuando meti el pavo en el horno, y cuando empezaron a llegar los invitados, siendo la anfitrión que soy, me dediqué a cuidar a mis invitados y me olvidé por completo del pavo. Sin precupacion me llego una aroma. El aroma de algo quemándose comenzó a llenar mi casa y mi alarma interna inmediatamente se disparó: me había olvidado completamente del pavo.

Temiendo lo peor, corrí a la cocina y, cuando abrí el horno, salió un humo espeso que me consumió. Mi corazon se hundio. Sin darme cuenta, reaccioné quitándome la falda para alejar el humo, dejando al descubierto un pavo ennegrecido y quemado. Estaba crujiente, pero mucho más de lo que quería.

Había arruinado el pavo. Había arruinado mi falda. Había arruinado el Día de Acción de Gracias.

#crossdress #crossdresser #crossdressing #boytogirl #male to femlae #mtf #cd #cdemilyforence #emilyflorence

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uniquexusposts · 4 months ago

Text

A cafe, a newspaper and Carlos

Summary: Y/N and meets Carlos in a cafe and they bond over a newspaper and a book. Genre: fluff Read the full story here

Y/N was on her way to the nearest city in Spain. It was sunny, it was warm, and it was not like her home country. She had been in Spain for three months now. Y/N was glad to leave the house for a day. She tried to get out of the house at least once a week for a whole day, but that rather failed than worked. Once a week became once every two weeks. Renovating a house was more challenging than you would think. Y/N would say she underestimated it.

After twenty minutes, she arrived in the city. The first thing she did was visit the supermarket to buy a newspaper from her home country and a local newspaper. Y/N was young; you wouldn't say that she belonged to the target audience for reading newspapers. She was a journalist, she had to keep up with the news. Y/N and her dad tried to get the newspaper delivered to their house, but that didn't work. They had to buy it every morning now - which wasn't bad at all.

Tourists were strolling around on this beautiful day. Y/N agreed with them. Because Y/N began to know this village more, she knew the best hotspots by now. There was a new coffee shop hidden in one of the alleys, it was her go-to spot. It was one of the hidden gems and there were a few people who knew about it, they hoped it would stay this small and unknown. How did Y/N find this? She was kinda friends with one of the baristas: Maria. Maria used to work at a cafe that fired her for no particular reason. So the 'savage'? Stealing customers.

Y/N entered the cafe. The amazing thing that made this cafe unique? It was on a rooftop. It wasn't a chic cafe. The cafe reminded her of one of her favourite places back in her home country; warm, open, happy. Y/N walked up the stairs.

"Hola, Y/N," Maria said as soon as she saw the young lady.

Y/N smiled. "Hola," she said. "¿Cómo va todo?"

"I'm fine, today is a busy day," the woman smiled. "What can I get you? I will bring it to you."

"I would love to have a coffee," Y/N said. "With a yogurt bowl and a glass of water."

"The usual," Maria warmly smiled. "We only have free chairs inside, but I think a few people leave in a bit. It's up to you what you will do."

The eyes of Y/N were gliding over the people on the terrace. "I will just look around," she smiled. "But thanks."

"Anytime, girl."

Y/N walked outside, it was indeed filled with people. However, she had spotted a free chair. But every table was occupied. Could she just ask one of the people to sit at their table? That would be rude. She was here to enjoy the day and the sun... And if you don't ask it, you don't know it. Besides, everyone in The Netherlands - Amsterdam - would share a table if everything was occupied.

She bit her lip and walked towards the free chair. Her eyes fell on the man who sat on the other side of the table, he was enjoying a cup of coffee and reading a book. Could she bother him?

"Hi," Y/N politely said. When the man looked up, she pressed a smile on her face. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

The corners of the man's mouth curled up. "No, have a seat," he said.

"Gracias," she said and turned around the chair to face the sun and view, not the man. Y/N placed her leg over her knee and grabbed the newspaper from her bag. This was the ultimate moment to enjoy the warm bursts of sunshine.

Five minutes later, Maria walked to Y/N. "Found a free chair, I see," she smirked and put the coffee, glass of water and yoghurt on the table with whom Y/N shared a table. "How are you?"

"Thanks, Maria. And I'm fine, finally a day off."

"I already thought so. I haven't seen you in a while."

"It's so busy," Y/N breathed and closed the newspaper. "But I missed this; I had to make time to drink a coffee at yours."

Maria widely smiled. "Things I love to hear," she said and looked at the man behind Y/N. "Can I get you anything?"

The man looked up from his book. "No, thanks, I'm fine."

"Also perfect. And for your information, for both of you, everything is on one bill. I couldn't split it. So when one of you is leaving, we will split the bill for your own consumption. Just to let you know when it's unclear when you will pay," Maria explained to both of them. The man and Y/N nodded. "I will speak to you later, yes?" She said to Y/N.

"Absolutely. Good luck," Y/N smiled. "Thanks, by the way."

"No need to thank me." And Maria walked away.

Y/N opened the newspaper again and continued reading. She took some sips from the cappuccino and ate the yoghurt. It was still morning, well, late in the morning. A few people were enjoying a morning off, others were working, and some were only here for a cup of coffee in their break.

One thing Y/N enjoyed about this, was that she could read and look up after a while, watching the surroundings and the people. If you didn't feel like reading for a couple of minutes, there were enough other things to fill the time.

Hours passed. The newspaper made place for a book, and the coffee made room for a refreshing juice. A lot of the same people were still present, a few left and a couple of new faces came in return.

"Excuse me," the man behind Y/N said.

She looked over her shoulder, locking her eyes with the man's. Now she noticed the afternoon was coming to an end. And she could feel it, a soft breeze flowed through her hair. "Hi."

"Hey, I'm leaving. I accidentally paid for us both..."

"Oh," Y/N softly said. Actually, she forgot that they were sharing a bill. And the man just has been too. "How much is it?"

The man looked at the bill. "13,20 euros," he said.

She nodded and grabbed her wallet. She gave him a bill of 5 and 10 euros. "You can keep the change."

The man got something from his pocket. "Here do you have two euros," he said and placed it on the table. "You can keep the 20 cents," he softly chuckled.

"Oh, eh, thank you." Y/N politely smiled.

"It was a good day," the man continued. He looked around with a satisfied look on his face.

"It was a good day," she agreed with him. Y/N closed the book she was reading and took a sip from her juice. "We all needed it. People somehow seem nicer." Her eyes fell on the time; she didn't have to be somewhere next, but perhaps it was also time to go home.

The man looked down and smirked. He nodded and looked up again. "They somehow do. I saw how you enjoyed the sun. It's somehow amazing to see how much people can enjoy the warmth and sun."

"People are desperately in need of the sun and the summer." She looked at him. "Thank you for letting me sit here."

"Yeah, no problem. The chair was doing nothing anyway," he replied. He noticed the smile on her face; she looked grateful. "What are you reading?" His eyes fell on the book.

Y/N got up and turned around her chair. "Sorry, my neck begins to hurt," she mentioned. The man nodded and was wearing a smile. "But The Secret History by Donna Tartt. My grandma recommended it, and I have to say... I'm impressed. It's a good story so far."

"I never heard of it before," he honestly mentioned. Y/N gave the book to him, so he could read the back - luckily this was the English version. She figured he might get interested in it. His eyes scanned the words on the back. "It looks good," he said and gave back the book.

"It is." Her eyes fell on his book, but she didn't say anything of it.

"Grand Hotel Europe," he mentioned. "By Ilja Leonard Pfeijffer?" He looked doubtful when he pronounced his name. "I'm not sure what to think of it, to be honest. I got it from a friend, but I'm not quite sure whether I like it or not." He slid the book to Y/N. His brown eyes were scanning the woman in front of her. She didn't even read the back, she just smiled and nodded. It made him curious why that was her reaction.

"I think it's brilliantly written. It's tough to read it, but I like it."

"You have read it?" The man looked perplexed when Y/N nodded. "Wow. No offence, but you're the first person I know who read it." He smiled. "I'm Carlos, by the way."

"Y/N."

Carlos nodded. "Y/N... Nice to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you too," Y/N replied. Of course, she knew the man in front of her was Carlos. Carlos Sainz Jr.

The small kept resting on his face. However, his eyes fell on the two newspapers on the table. Carlos knew one of them. But one of them was in a language he couldn't make sentences of. "What language is this?" He looked at Y/N. "Sorry for looking into your stuff, but since the moment you finished reading it, I've been trying to figure out what language it is."

"It's just a newspaper, Carlos," she amusingly said. Y/N folded the Dutch newspaper open. "It's Dutch, de Volkskrant, the newspaper for the people."

He nodded impressively. "Makes sense now."

"Don't you have to go? I don't want to bother you, you already paid..." Y/N knew it was direct, but in her experience, they were leaving when someone paid.

He looked at his watch. "Nah, I don't have to go anywhere, actually," Carlos said. "Unless you want me to leave you alone."

"No, no, I mean, you already paid, so I assumed you had to go," she softly mentioned and looked away. Sometimes being Dutch in a foreign country was quite...different.

"I have the day off," Carlos mentioned, also making sure he didn't give her the wrong intentions. "But since that newspaper is from the Netherlands... I assume you're Dutch?"

Y/N nodded.

"Holiday or..?" Carlos raised his eyebrow, sharing a questionable look.

Y/N looked around and doubted what she could call this. "I would say it's an adventure," she replied. "Also, a little bit of a vacation."

"An adventure sounds exciting," he warmly smiled. "What kind of adventure, if I may ask?"

She bit her lip and made eye contact again. "Building a new home."

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess

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