#but since day one with Xavi I have never heard him say a name as much as Zuba’s

[0-twentyone]

If the rumors are correct and Vitor’s deal really costed more than 74M then why didn’t they put the money on someone like Zubimendi!

[outsideratheart]

Healing (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: This took me a lot longer to finish than I hoped but it’s done. Grab a drink and get comfy because it’s a long one, in fact I think it’s my longest fic to date.

The world had its questions and you were well aware of the headlines.

Y/N Y/L/N quits football.

Where is Y/N Y/L/N? Here's what we know.

The best in the world has vanished.

If you find Y/N tell her Sarina is looking for her.

The last twelve months had been the hardest in your life. You thought you could prepare for it, that it would easier because you knew it was coming but that wasn't the case. The day it happened was the day your heart broke and as you buried her you knew you were burying part of yourself too.

You left the world speculating as to why you didn't extend your contract with Lyon, why you never signed for another club and more importantly people were wondering where you had disappeared to.

Both your club and country team mates knew about your personal life and the tragedy that happened shortly after the euros. 

You missed football, of course you did, but you also needed to take time away to process what had happened. A return date was never set but then the world cup happened. You watched your team mates cry after losing to Spain and you couldn't help but feel partially responsible. The game might have ended differently if you had played.

A decision had been made. It was time to return to the pitch. You had offers before and after the euros. The only question is what teams would still want you? 

The sun was setting in Barcelona as the team finished up a late training session. Most of the players stayed behind to take advantage of the free food given they knew once they got home they wouldn't have the energy to cook themselves.

“Lucy your phone is ringing” Ona shouts over to where the English defender is filling her plate. 

“Who is it?” Lucy replies. 

Ona’s face floods with guilt. Almost as if she shouldn’t be looking at the phone. This sparks interest of those around her but no one more than Keira who sees the name on the screen. 

“Y/N” Lucy all but ran back to table after hearing Keira say your name “is everything ok? Where are you? Yes I’m with Lucy. Before I hand you over promise me that you’re ok? Good” 

Keira hands over the phone and watches Lucy’s face as she tries to figure out why you called and what you are talking about. 

“Yes there are people around me. Ok, I’ll ask” 

When you hang up the phone Lucy does as you ask or at least she makes the first step. 

“Alexia” Lucy walks around to where the captain is sat with Mapi and Ingrid “Who would I talk about signing a new player?”

“It’s not our job to recruit players but if you know something that might help the club then tell me and I will ask” Alexia wasn’t stupid. She heard your name and now Lucy was asking this. It wasn’t a coincidence. 

“I can’t. This is a sensitive subject” 

“Vale. Talk to Jona and if he thinks the player is right for the club then he can set up a meeting” 

Alexia left the training facility that night thinking of you. You were at the peak of your career, many people considered you the best in the world and if she is being honest she thought you would win the Balon d’Or, not her. That night Alexia watched your highlights for hours, even the ones in the games against her. You really were a once in a generation player which makes it that much harder for Alexia to understand why you walked off the pitch at Wembley and hadn’t been seen on one since. 

The next day at training the energy felt different. Lucy and Keira had a sense of happiness that their team mates hadn’t seen before. They would gather around Lucy’s phone but then hide it when somebody came close to them. 

Jona came walking into the gym with Xavi Puig right behind him and called over both Keira and Lucy. A couple of players watch the conversation unfold and tried their hardest to read their lips.

“Ingrid, what are they saying?” Mapi nudges her girlfriend.

“They’re talking about Y/N Y/L/N” Alexia was stretching on the floor playing no part in the eavesdropping.

“How do you know?” Ingrid asks her.

“She called Lucy yesterday and then Lucy talked to me about the club signing a new player. I can’t know for sure but that’s what I think is going on”

A couple of days later you landed in Barcelona, greeted by the warm weather and your two England team mates who kept a low key appearance in the arrivals hall. You stop when you are a meter away them. You didn’t know what to do, you hadn’t seen them in almost a year. 

“Come here” Lucy throws her arms around you followed by Keira.

“We’re so happy to see you Y/N. We really have missed you” 

You remain quiet as you walk to the car. Both of them fill you in on what the team is like and you make sure to remind them that you haven’t officially signed yet.

“Jona mentioned that. You want a trial training session?”

“It’s the right thing to do” you didn’t want any special treatment. You wanted to earn the right to play for the club and not just be handed the contract.

“You could have not played football for 5 years and still run rings round all of us” Lucy knows you the most having played with her at both club and country. You were too humble in her eyes so she took it upon herself to remind you of your greatness from time to time.

“I never said I haven’t played football. That has been the thing to get me through the past 10 months” you didn’t mean to be a downer, in fact you didn’t know what you were saying until it was too late.

“How are you doing?” Keira asks from the front seat and you see Lucy eyeing you up in rear view mirror.

“Some days are harder than others and no day has been easy. She would be happy that I’m here though. She always said that if I didn’t go back to England then she’d want us to come here”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say her name. 

“She always did hate the french winters” Lucy laughs at the memories she shared with your wife.

Your mind goes back to just a couple of years ago. Lyon were playing at home and the weather was awful. You saw Natalia in the crowd shivering but still she cheered you on, she always was your biggest fan. Come rain or shine, your girl was in the audience. You hated the thought of playing without her being in the crowd but you also knew she wouldn’t want to give up your career.

“Y/N” Keira gently nudged your knee. It was obvious that you were taking a trip down memory lane and she didn’t want to scare you.

“Huh” you quickly wiped away a tear “Oh we’re here” you grabbed your backpack and jumped out of the car leaving them in the front not knowing what to do.

“Let’s leave her be. She knows we are here and will come to us when she’s ready”

You were in awe as you walked the halls of Joan Camper. The things the team has achieved were that of greatness. It was a club that created legacys and you found yourself feeling something that you hadn’t in a long time; excitement.

Lucy and Keira lead you to the locker room just as they were instructed to. The rest of the team were already out of the field which was part of the plan. There hanging in a corner locker was a training kit for you. You didn’t expect it and you definitely didn’t expect to have been given your number.

“You did this?” You ask the pair.

“Salma did. The team knows you called Lucy and when Salma heard to locker room rumours of you joining she insisted. Between us she is a big fan of yours, bigger than Luce”

“Not possible” the defender joked.

The boots were fastened and you were ready, well almost ready. There was one thing you wasn’t prepared for. You looked down at your necklace. It was a simple gold chain that held two rings: yours and Talia’s.

“I can’t do it” you slumped down in defeat and bury your face in your hands.

“Hey” Lucy crouches down in front of you “they let us wear jewellery for training, you can keep them on”

You walked out onto the field and all eyes fell on you. You felt like a spectacle and you hated the attention. They didn’t know the current version of you, they had only met the old Y/N so you channel her and introduce yourself to them during the next drinks break.

“I know some of us have met as opponents but this is different. I’m Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you all, I hope I can keep up” you make a joke hoping to avoid the elephant in the room.

“We’ll see about that. I’m Alexia” She is the first person to you.

“Lovely to meet you Alexia” 

It’s hard to explain the feeling when you’re playing football. It’s as if you mind switches off whilst also been completely focused. It take a few attempts to get into the rhythm that is Barcelona football but you catch on quickly. It comes as no shock to the rest of the team that you play in complete sync with Lucy and Keira. The two of them even stay back at the end to work with you on some movements that you weren’t pleased with.

Some players go shower but a few stay behind, albeit out of sight, and watch you. 

“She has a gift” Alexia says to nobody in particular.

“Nobody has seen her in over a year and this is how she is playing. Look, she is running rings around them. How is that possible?” Patri adds.

“Does anybody know where she was?” Pina asks the small group.

“No but I could ask Ingrid or Caro to ask Ada. They are best friends and surely you would tell your best friend where you are going” Mapi forms a plan in her head, one that she will soon find out to be a bad idea.

“Do it” Alexia tells the defender “We are a family here and if she joins us then we have a right to know where she has been”

When Barcelona posted a photo of you signing a contract on their socials the world went crazy. The media were relentless and the fans were quick to show their support for you even though some were skeptical about your sudden reappearance and new team. 

You ignored them for the most part as they had no idea what had happened. You fit into the team almost right away and was enjoying every game with Barcelona. You scored on your debut and had been involved in a goal every game since. Months had passed and much to your surprise you had only been asked about the missing year once or twice. 

Caro refused to ask Ada about you and Ingrid only did when her girlfriend became obsessed with finding out the truth. Ada’s answer was simple ‘I won’t tell you and if she doesn’t want you to know then you should respect her wishes���.

You remained a mystery though and for the most part the team seemed to forget about your missing year. 

When the second international window came that is when things changed and you felt like you made a friend. Mapi still wasn’t representing her country so she reached out and asked if you wanted to meet up for a coffee. 

Anybody could easily be intimidated by the blonde but you liked her. She had this energy that made you know accepting her invite was a no brainer. That and you had questions of your own. 

“How did you know?”

Mapi places down a a small coffee in a glass; a cortado. 

“I asked Keira what you ordered”

A comfortable silence took over as the two of you sipped on your coffees. You found it funny the way Mapi looked at you then her coffee and back to you again. You recognised the signs; you were making her nervous. Why though you had no idea.

You decide to make the first move and you get straight to the point much to the defender’s surprise.

“I spoke with Ada”

This got her attention. You had your suspicions but the look on her face confirmed it. Still, she played along.

“That’s nice. You’re very close, no?” Mapi tried her best to look innocent but you weren’t having any of it and the look on your face told her that.

“She had an interesting conversation with Ingrid. Do you happen to know anything about this?”

She did. You know she did. 

“No” you got a sheepish look from Mapi and you wondered if she knew how unconvincing she was being.

“I think you did. I think you got Ingrid to ask Ada about me”

“Lo siento”

“Here’s the thing I don’t understand. I know you all want to know, you’ve been whispering about me for months yet not one of you has come to me and asked me directly. You have been going behind my back trying to dig up information about a time that I clearly don’t want to talk about”

Mapi dips her head. She truly thought that her and the team were been careful but obviously not. 

“Maria, I want you to put yourself in my shoes. Would you want to talk about it with strangers when you barely talk to your best friends about it?”

The defender thinks about it for a moment. You had barely left Lucy and Keira’s side but she hadn’t really heard you talking, you were always listening to what they were saying and replying when necessary.

“It was bad wasn’t it?” She asks. 

“The worse year of my life” you confess and you can your throat close at the thought of the months in question.

“We are in jail?” 

You cannot help but chuckle at her words.

“No, I was not in jail”

“Did you kill somebody?”

“No, I did not kill anybody”

“So no crimes were committed?”

“Is that what you have all come up with? That I broke the law?” 

“Most of us, yes. Aitana think’s you were in the hospital because you were sick”

Her response came at the worst time possible. You spit your coffee out when you hear the midfielder’s suspicion. 

Technically she was right. You were in the hospital but you weren’t in the hospital.

“I wasn’t sick” 

“Clearly. Look at you, you’re huge. I mean you are big. No, you are strong”

“Calm down Mapi, I know what you mean. Thank you” 

The two of you stay in the cafe for another hour. You take this time just the two of you getting to know one another. You ask Mapi about her tattoos and she learn’s you have a few of your own which are hidden on your back. When she asks for their meaning you promise you will tell her the stories another time. 

You both walk to the metro station and by coincidence you end up of the same train. You get off before her and just before the door opens, Mapi grabs your hand.

“I’ll get them to stop. You don’t owe us an explanation, Y/N” 

“Thank you Maria” 

You’re not sure what the tattooed defender said but the whispers stopped or so you thought. They stopped whispering in front of you but little did you know the speculations were still going on behind your back. It is early in December when things come to a head and you snapped. 

“What do you mean she is staying Spain?” Alexia asked Salma. 

“That she is staying her in Barcelona. She said she might go to Valencia for a few days but that’s it” the forward wasn’t sure what to say or if she should have said anything at all.

“And you don’t think that is strange? This is woman who used to love England. The fans called her Queen of England, por dios. How can she be apart of this team if we know nothing about her. She is lying to us” Alexia ranted on and who knew how much longer she would have continued if not for Lucy interrupting her.

“Alexia, that is enough!” Lucy slams her fist on the locker before turning to her captain “She has come to this team and done nothing but good. She plays well for us and gives it her all on the pitch. Off it she makes the effort and yes sometimes she says no to things but isn’t that her right? You stand there as our captain but look at you, you’re nothing but a bully. I am ashamed to say i’m your team mate right now. That girl has been through hell these past couple of years and since coming here all you keep doing is reminding her of what has happened. You are obsessed with her. Look around, no one else is digging for information. No one is making her uncomfortable on a daily basis”

“She is lying to us. She won’t tell us where she was for over a year. She is hiding something and that isn’t fair on us” Alexia tried to defend her actions.

“Isn’t fair? Are you really that self centred? You have no right to talk about what is and is not fair. I don’t care if you are my captain, I won’t stand by you while you treat my best friend like she has done something wrong. You, Alexia, are a —“

“Lucy” The whole locker room turns upon hearing your voice “I have given up on Alexia, it’s time you do too”

“No! I won’t let her talk about you that way. You don’t deserve this”

“No I don’t but —“

“Y/N” Lucy begs you to let her fight you case.

“Walk away Lucy” 

A stare down takes place between you and Lucy. A few seconds later the defender grabs her stuff and leaves the room. To everyone else you are calm and collected but Keira recognises the look in your eye, you are furious.

“I want everyone to listen to me and listen good. My past is none of your business. To those who have let the obsession go, thank you. To those that haven’t” you look Alexia dead in the eye “I want nothing to do with you. I will remain civil on the pitch. Other than that I ask you to stay away from me. That’s if you can respect my wishes. I know it has been hard so far”

You quietly gather your things and try to ignore the multiple sets of eyes on you. With each second you can feel your chest getting tighter and you know it is only a matter second before you will no longer be able to control your breathing. You just needed to get out of there, away from prying eyes.

The hallway is the furthest you get. Your mind was filled of flashbacks, the moments that you tried so hard to bury. The past was not a pretty place, not the last year, but you know that it was only a matter of time before it came crashing down on you. 

“Y/N, are you ok?” Mapi and Ingrid are by your side, clearly the couple had left just after you.

“Natalia, she, she” 

Ingrid and Mapi shared a look, who was Natalia? They had never heard you mention a Natalia before. Both of them didn’t know what to do. Whilst you had become friends with the pair, they didn’t know you well enough to cope with this moment. 

Luckily for them Keira appears out of nowhere. The English woman clearly equipped with what to do.

“Get Lucy, now!” She whisper shouted and Ingrid goes running hoping to catch the defender before she leaves.

“Keira—Natalia”

“I know, I know. We can talk about her later if you want. Right now, I need to focus on me. Can you do that?” 

You nod your head as tears flow down your cheeks. 

“What happened?” Lucy rushes over to you.

“We found her on the floor. She kept talking about Natalia” 

“She told you?” Lucy asks shocked. She knew you wasn’t ready to tell them team but in a state of panic you might be let it slip.

“No. She only said her name” Mapi says. She couldn’t take her eyes off you. This wasn’t a panic attack, no she had seen one of those before. This was something much more intense.

A few minutes pass and Keira manages to keep your breathing under control but you’re still not ready to move. Lucy, Mapi and Ingrid stay close making sure to tell anyone who passes to keep moving.

“What is going on?” Alexia asks with concern, a concern that doesn’t reach Lucy in fact her asking is the worst thing she could have done.

“Get away from her” Lucy is up on her feet and pushing Alexia backwards. She would has fallen to the floor if not for the wall behind her “This is all your fault. You see this, you see her, this is what you have done to her”

“Lucy” you reach up and take her hand. The defender used her strength to pull you up. 

You, Lucy, Keira, Mapi and Ingrid walk towards the exit of the stadium.

“Y/N” Alexia’s voice is soft and it is only now that she realises she might have taken things too far.

You turn around to face the Catalonian. For the first time since arriving you make no effort to hide the pain you have felt on a daily basis.

“I want nothing to do with you Alexia”

A week had passed and Alexia started to worry about you more so than she wanted to let on. Lucy and Keira were visibly worried about you and kept an eye on you at all times. She was confused at how things got this bad. Yes, she knew that maybe things had been taken too far but you didn’t show rage, your energy radiated nothing. You were numb. The Barcelona captain had no idea how to make things right with you.

You wore a smile on your face in front of the cameras and fans but behind closed doors it’s liked you switched your emotions off. Alexia asked Mapi about you but it seemed that even her closest friend was on your side. The zaragozian and her girlfriend had become close with you since the incident and Alexia didn’t understand why.

One night she found herself knocking on Mapi’s door hoping to find out how things got so bad.

When the captain was let in there is an evident scowl on Ingrid’s face which Alexia did not expect. The Norwegian excuses herself stating that she needed to go to the supermarket.

“Mentiroso” Alexia says to herself.

“Watch it Alexia. She has her reasons” Mapi jumped to her girlfriend’s defence.

Mapi leads Alexia over to the kitchen table and gets a glass of water for the two of them.

“You’re here about Y/N, aren’t you?” her captain nods “I don’t know what to tell you. What happened in the locker room was bad Ale. We didn’t leave the stadium when you thought we did. Y/N used everything in her to make sure Lucy didn’t do something she would regret. I don’t know what happened during those months but whatever we think it is, it’s so much worse. I shouldn’t be telling you this but she kept mentioning Natalia, I don’t know who that is but I think something happened to her”

Alexia thought she felt guilty about the way things went down with the two of you but that failed in comparison to how she was feeling now. To think that you were grieving someone and her questions were it worse for you, well it made her feel ashamed. 

She knew that she hadn’t been the most welcoming. Yes, you and her got a long on the pitch and yes, you were ok at training but she hadn’t made the effort she should have to make you feel at home in Barcelona.

“I don’t know how to fix it Mapi. You know I like her, I think she is amazing—“

“You were her biggest fan” the blonde teased

“But what if I’ve ruined any chance for being friends with her? What if what I’ve done is undoable?” Alexia ignores Mapi comment seen as though she knows she cannot deny it.

Mapi was at a loss for words. She always has had her friend’s back but there was something about you which made her want to protect you and Alexia was someone that you needed protection from.

“You need to give her space Alexia. This week alone I have seen you walk towards her then walk away at least 6 times. Y/N even asked me why you were doing it. You’re making the girl feel uncomfortable” 

Alexia mentally scolded herself for her behaviour which in her defence she did not think anyone noticed. 

“So space?” Alexia asks.

“Space” Mapi confirmed.

Alexia found it hard at first because she wanted nothing more than to make things right with you but she did as suggested, she gave you space. She saw you start to come out of your shell a bit more as December rolled on. The day game before the Christmas break you were playing in Madrid and that is when Alexia heard you discussing your winter plans with Keira.

“Keira, that’s a sweet offer but I’m sure. I’m going to stay in Barcelona, it is my home now”

The Catalonian took a little comfort in knowing you had grown the love her city despite the hostile behaviour.

“Y/N, it’s Christmas. She would want you to be home for that” your friend asked.

“I don’t know if I can handle going back for Christmas. It would hurt too much”

It felt wrong for Alexia to eavesdrop on your conversation so she leaves out of respect.

“She wouldn’t want you to avoid England. The two of you spent years in France and both of you said coming home to England was your favourite thing to do”

“Keira, stop. It was our favourite thing. There is no more our, no us. It’s just me”

Keira could see your hands shaking. This is the first sign of your panic attack so she drops the subject. She does suggest you going away with them for new years and you said you would as long as it isn’t in the UK or France. 

The team had one last recovery session before the winter break and it’s safe to say when it was done everyone was more than happy to go home. You wished everyone a Merry Christmas and without knowing it, Alexia is included.

“Feliz Navidad Alexia, por tu y tu familia” 

“Gracias Y/N” 

To Alexia this was a gift in itself. Maybe you were opening up to idea of forgiving her. After that you quickly grab your stuff and run off to where Ingrid was waiting for you.

After that interaction, Alexia couldn’t stop thinking about you. She also thought she was hallucinating when she saw your name appear on her phone screen. In the rush of leaving the training facility you picked up the wrong bag, only realising when got home a few hours later and your shirt had an 11 on instead of a 7. You texted Alexia asking if you could meet up to get your stuff back. Alexia, at that point was already at her mother’s house so she sent you that address and told her mum that you were coming over.

You tried to ease your nervous as you drove to your captain’s mother’s house. It was going to be awkward, this much you knew but regardless of the place you and Alexia were in, you wanted to make a good impression on her family. 

The knock was gentle as you stop on the door step.

“Y/N, hola. Adelante”

You didn’t know that word meant but you put two and two together and guessing in meant come in so that is what you did. Eli leads you to the living room after telling Alba to go get her sister. Eli headed back into the kitchen and left you in the living room. You didn’t want to take a seat, it wasn’t that kind of visit so you looked around and a wall of photos gains your attention.

Alexia couldn’t have been more than 7 years old. She was adorable. Next to her stood her younger sister and behind her, her parents. You didn’t recognise the man so you assume Alexia’s father works away a lot as you have never seen him at a game.

“That’s Jaume, Alexia and Alba’s father” Your cheeks flush in embarrassment at being caught stooping.

“And your husband” you turn to face the woman “I haven’t seen him around, does he work in a different city?”

“Jaume passed away a little over ten years ago” 

She is a widow, like you. That is the first thing you thought. In that moment you had so many questions for her but this is a woman you had only just met. It’s not exactly the small talk she would be expecting. The two of you go quiet and you guess she is thinking about her lost love, just as you are thinking about yours.

Alexia comes downstairs, your bag in hand but stops at the door was upon seeing you in conversation with her mother. Alba nudges her forward but she doesn’t move. The two of them watch you.

“Does it ever get easier?” The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it.

The two sisters share a look. They had no idea what you were talking about and by their mother’s response, she didn’t either.

“Que?” As expected, the question catches Eli off guard.

“Living without the person who promised you forever” you turn to face the older woman with tears falling down your cheek.

“Oh Querida, come here” 

You feel comfort in her arms and for a brief few seconds you forget that she is a stranger. In this moment she is someone who understands your pain and that is more than enough for you. When you pull away you see Alexia and Alba, you feel extremely exposed.

“Hi. You must be Alba” you wipe the last of your tears and extend your hand towards the younger Putellas.

She swats away your hand and pulls you into a hug.

“So formal” Alba laughs “you’re even hotter in person” 

“Alba!” Both Eli and Alexia scold her.

“What? I’m being honest” 

“Thank you, I think. Is that mine?” You point the bad Alexia is holding.

“Yes. Sorry for the mix up” 

“No, no. It was my fault. I was running late for dinner with Ingrid. I left yours in the hall as I wasn’t sure where to put it”

Alexia stared at you almost as if frozen in place.

“Was I not suppose to do that? I can go get it for you”

“This is the most you’ve spoken to me since joining” Alexia was honest with what she was thinking.

“It must be the Christmas air” you laugh a little “speaking of, you three clearly have plans so I will leave you be” 

Eli tries to get you to stay but you can’t. The woman knew too much and even though shared the same pain, you knew it was only a matter of time before the pity eyes came. You also didn’t know how much the two sisters had heard.

Alexia asked and asked what the you and her mother were talking about but the woman refused to tell. The only answer Alexia got was to be careful with you and that not all is as it seems. It seemed to be enough for Alexia but she wasn’t giving up on you, not just yet.

She kept an eye on you over the Christmas break and just as you said you stayed in Barcelona. Alexia all but stalked your Instagram and even went as far as texting you some recommendations. You felt something towards the midfielder and it made you think that you might have been a little harsh on her. You made a mental reminder to speak to her once the break was over.

The first game back was away to Bilbao and it brought you the perfect opportunity to speak to Alexia as the two of you were roomed together. It was late by the time you got there so everyone went straight to their room. 

“Oh Y/N I don’t know what happened” Alexia says as she swiped the room key. 

“What are you — oh I see” 

There was only one bed, albeit a large double bed. 

You hadn’t shared a bed in almost a year and you wasn’t sure if you were ready for it. Now you had to find  a way to explain this to Alexia.

“I’ll sleep on the floor” Alexia suggests and even though you weren’t ready, you also knew you wasn’t going to let her do that.

“Alexia you are one of the most important players on the team. I cannot let you sleep on the floor. Take the bed, I’ll take the floor”

“Y/N, you are important too. You are our highest goal scorer. I am taking the floor, don’t argue with your captain”

She refused to take no for an answer and you hated it. When you came out the shower Alexia was on the floor and it looked awful. It was almost funny and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t say anything. Bed” Alexia laughed along with you.

The room was dark except from the street lights then peaked through the curtains. Sleep wasn’t coming easy to you and by the sounds of tossing and turning, Alexia was struggling too. 

“Alexia, come sleep in the bed” The thought of having someone sleep next to you wasn’t something you necessarily wanted but Alexia sleeping on the floor wasn’t fair.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable” 

There was something in her tone. She wasn’t talking about sharing the bed with a team mate, she was talking about sharing a bed in general. 

“She told you” Eli had to have told alexia about your conversation. 

“Who?” Alexia asked even though she knew you were talking about her mother. 

“Your mother. She told you about what I said”

“I asked but she didn’t tell me anything. I’m sorry that something happened to your friend” 

You sat up upon hearing her condolences. 

“My friend. What are you talking about?” 

Alexia, now sat up too, looked at you as if saying you know what I’m talking about.

“Natalia?” 

She said her name. Nobody had said her name. They knew it would cause too much pain. 

In that moment you are brought back to the last time someone said her name. It was the 5 November 2023 in a hospice not to far from your shared home in London. Natalia was the strongest woman you knew and no one would ever come close to her in your eyes. Yet just after Euros she told you that her time was coming, that the cancer was starting to win. You begged her to fight, you weren’t ready to lose her but you knew that you had been on borrowed time for many many years. The last person to say her name was a nurse as your wife took her final breath before she was called home.

“She was my wife” you could feel your nose twitch as a ball of emotion built in your throat. You knew the day was coming when you talked about her but you didn’t think it would come in Bilbao with Alexia now sitting at the foot of your bed.

The Catalonian knew she heard you correctly but she still sat in disbelief. She had no idea you were dating anyone let alone you were married. Alexia could do nothing but watch as you bury your head in your hand as your body racks with sobs. She wants to hug you, to hold you and to tell you to let it out but you weren’t that close. 

When you aggressively wipe your eyes you notice Alexia looking prettified and you cannot help but burst of into a fit of giggles.

“I’m going to go get Lucy or Keira or anyone else who isn’t me” your captain panics and makes a bee line for the door. She is stopped in her tracks as your hand grabs her wrist.

“You don’t have to”

She didn’t believe you and that was made obvious as her eyes dart back and forward between you and the door. 

“Isn’t this what you have been wanting? To know why I walked away” you pat the side of the bed next to you.

You saw the hesitation is Alexia’s eyes. In that moment she wanted to respect your boundaries and you appreciated that but for the first time in a while the thought of talking about Natalia didn’t make you feel like you would break. 

Once she sat down you turn to face you and you saw the look many people had given you. She felt sorry for you. 

“I didn’t know you were married” 

“Not many people did. We never hid anything. If you look you’ll see her in a lot of photos, she always supported me” you get comfy knowing that this is going to be a long conversation “I’m a private person and all I ever wanted to do was protect her” 

In that moment Alexia understood for she too was a private person. She knew that she was in the limelight but she still kept herself to herself off the pitch. 

“How did she—“ Alexia stopped talking as soon as she realised what she was about to ask “sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” 

“Leukemia” you closed your eyes, took a deep breath and counted to three “she first got it when she was six. We used to take the day off school to go to the hospital. She would call me her emotional support friend” you laugh as you remember the way she made you wear a badge “she won the battle only for it to come back when she was 16 then again at 28. The third battle was the hardest for her and it was the one she lost” 

Alexia caught the way you couldn’t look at her whilst you talked about the hardest times of your wife’s life. 

“She sounds like a strong woman” 

“Oh she was the strongest. She went through so much yet you never would have known it. Natalia had this heart that was big enough to like up the whole world. I wouldn’t be where I am today without her. She supported me in the youths teams, was in the stands when I made my Arsenal debut and moved to France with me when I signed for Lyon. She said she’s followed me everywhere because she knew I’d be lost with her” 

When Alexia sees you laughing, she joins in too. 

“Things got bad just before the euros. I was so close to withdrawing but she begged me to go. She wanted to see me lift that trophy and I did, I did it for her. I didn’t know how bad it was until afterwards and I made the decision to be by her side. We did all the things on her bucket list. A couple of months later she couldn’t fight it anymore. Her strength was gone and the light was barely there. I was able to be by her side as she took her last breath” 

Alexia didn’t stop you as you got off the bed and made your way towards the window. She could tell by the way your hand went straight to your face that you were crying. 

“You wanted to know why I walked about?” You turned to face her and in that moment, knowing what she did, Alexia felt guilty. Guilty for reminding you of the loss you had suffered. 

“I walked away because I didn’t feel like I had a purpose. For so many years I played for her. I scored to see a smile on her face and I won my trophies so that I can give her my medals. I couldn’t return to Lyon without her and it felt wrong being in England” 

“Y/N I’m —“

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. You didn’t kill her, the cancer did” 

You hated it when people told you they were sorry for your loss. Why? Why are they sorry? You heard it so many times that it made you numb. 

Alexia could tell that you were feeling a lot right now. She wanted to be there if you wanted to talk more about Natalia but she also knew the importance of changing the subject when it’s needed. 

“Can I ask you a question?” She looked at you with a sincere gaze.

“You can. Is it about Na—“ 

Alexia shakes her head.

“Why Barcelona?” 

It is a question that she had been desperate to know. You have now told her why you weren’t ready to go back to Lyon but plenty of teams would have offered you a contract if you announced your return.

“I said it wasn’t about her but turns out it was. Talia loved Spain and Barcelona was her favourite place. I honestly thought I would retire at Lyon but she always said that if she could pick a team I play for them she would choose Barcelona. When I decided to come back, it felt right to sign for Barcelona. Also, Lucy and Keira are here. As you have seen, I have depended on them quite a bit and I knew that it wouldn’t be easy so having someone who knew made everything easier”

You could see Alexia processing what you had told her. 

“I’m happy you don’t play for Lyon anymore”

“Yeah, you might be able to beat them now”

Alexia stared you down and you wondered what her next move would be. Turns out you didn’t have to wait long because a pillow soon smacked you in the face.

You both burst into laughter when the pillow fight turns competitive.

“We really should be getting some sleep” Alexia says as she stands.

You took a second to think. 

“You can sleep in the bed Alexia. I won’t freak out you know”

“Y/N I can’t. Not now”

“Oh stop. I’m not some fragile little doll that will break if she shares a bed with someone. Now get in bed” 

You pull the duvet back and pat the bed. It is only when Alexia gets in that you realise she is on your side and you are on Talia’s.

“You know this is my side of the bed” Alexia says as she gets comfy.

You had your reasons for sleeping on that side. You want to be closest to the door in case someone broke in. You wonder if Alexia has a reason.

“Got to make sure no one comes in and kidnaps you. Buenas noches Y/N” 

You fall asleep that night with ease. You no longer feel the weight of keeping your emotions at bay and having Alexia knowing the truth makes you feel at ease around her for the first time since you joined the club.

From that day on things were different between you and Alexia. You found yourself spending more time with her than you did with Lucy and Keira. The two of them found it strange but didn’t question it. Whilst the defender was still very much protective over you, she did see a change in her captain which lead to her giving her the benefit of the doubt. 

Life in Barcelona was finally what you imagined. Even in January the sun was shining and the sky was blue, unlike the weather you have been used to. The pain in your heart was still there but for the first time in a long whilst you felt happy or at least the closest thing to it that you could feel. Alexia has invited you to family dinner which happened after every other home game. Her mother and sister made you feel welcome. You had become rather close with Eli as she would often reach out to talk to you and check in with you. She didn’t need to say much, the fact that she could understand was more than enough. 

Alba was quite the character and there was never a dull moment with her. She would relentless tease her sister and it had you holding stomach with laughter.

You had received some calls that made you think about a few things. You thought about talking to Lucy and Keira about it but you knew their decision would be biased so you confided in Alexia one night as the two of you walked Nala along Barceloneta.  She helped you work though the feelings that the question brought up and by the the time you arrived back to your apartment, which you learnt was in the building opposite to hers, you knew what your decision would be. 

During the game against Atleti there was a certain Dutchwoman in attendance. It was the second to last game before the Nations league semi final, a game that England has got to by the skin of their teeth. Barcelona came away with a 2-0 win and a lot of the players stayed out on the pitch afterwards to greet the fans that came to support them.

Sarina stood near the locker room and praised the team as they entered. 

“Are you here for Lucy and Keira?” Aitana asked as she walked down the hall.

Behind her walked the two English women, along with Alexia. The latter knew to expect her, it made sense for her to come see you in person. The other two clearly had no idea that their national team coach was coming.

“She isn’t here for them” 

Alexia’s words cause Lucy and Keira’s heads to turn in surprise. 

“Y/N’s still out on the pitch. She is playing with Irene’s son Matteo, shall I go get her?”

“No, I can wait” 

Just as three of them were about to enter they hear your voice followed by a child’s laughter. You walked down the tunnel with Irene and her little boy. Sarina saw just how happy you were and for a brief moment she regretted coming. She questioned whether or not this is what is best for you.

“Gaffa” you saw the look on your team mates faces and chuckled. Surely they knew it was only a matter of time before Sarina came knocking “Let me get showered quickly and we will go” 

“But we’re going out tonight. It’s team night” Aitana sulked.

“I’ll meet you guys there” 

Alexia and you shared a look. She knew what this conversation was going to be about and she was pretty sure she knew what the outcome would be and she was worried. You squeezed her shoulder and smiled before going into the locker room.

It was over 3 hours later that you finally enter the restaurant that the team were eating at. 

All heads turned to you as you walked through the door. The seat reserved for you happened to be next to Alexia which you don’t think was an accident. Lucy and Keira were sat opposite you and you see the look of suspense in their eyes. They hadn’t officially been told what you and Sarina were talking about but they had very good guesses. 

The rest of the team were having their own conversations and you didn’t want to make a scene so you nodded your head and that was enough confirmation for them.

“Yes!!” Lucy stood up suddenly and slammed her hands on the table.

“Holy fuck. Lucia, sit down”  

Lucy does as her told.

“Our captain is back” Keira said to herself. 

You tried your best to include yourself in the conversations around you but your mind kept wandering. You found yourself staring off into the distance. It is only when you feel a gentle hand on your thigh do you realise just how spaced out you were.

“Is everything ok? Did your coach say something because if she did then—“

“Stand down Ale” Alexia’s eye soften at the nickname. It wasn’t a new one for her but you had only just started calling her it and she loved it “I’m just thinking is all. What if I’m not good enough? What if I don’t have a place in that team anymore?” You lean into her and whisper.

“Y/N, they are your team. Yes you took some time away but you lead them for a long time and you told me they knew your reasons. It might take some time to get back into things but you will soon be back to how you were before. Besides if things go well for both of us then we will have a World Cup rematch on our hands and I want to see what might have happened if you played in the summer” 

Oh you didn’t think about that. You hadn’t given your upcoming opponents a second thought. Alexia was right. If England beat France then they will face Spain in the national league final. 

You thought there might be some awkwardness when you walked through the doors at the England camp but you couldn’t have been more wrong. Each player welcomed you with open arms and the players that you didn’t know as much treated you like everyone else did.

There were a few moments when you got pulled aside by Sarina for what she called her mental health checks. She promised that nothing said between you would be told to anyone else and you chose to believe her. You were honest about how heavy the shirt felt when it had the England badge on and you told her of the nerves you were feeling about playing for your country again.

Alexia had kept texting you to check in and for the most part you told her the truth. It was the day before the match when you got overwhelmed and instead of lying, you chose to ignore her. You knew it wasn’t fair but wanted to stay focused. You could bury your feelings for 24 hours. Alexia on the other had wasn’t going to give up on you.

“Alexia” Jenni nudged her friends leg “Earth to Alexia” 

The woman in question had her eyes glued to the her phone as you sent you yet another message.

“What do you want!” Alexia snaps.

“Hey, don’t snap at me. Who you texting? Is it a girl?” Jenni peaked over her shoulder.

“No” Alexia pulled her phone closer to her chest “It’s Y/N”

“Y/N Y/L/N is a girl last time I checked” Jenni couldn’t help but tease.

“She but I don’t like her like that, well I do. Wait! I don’t” Alexia slumps down in her seat  “Oh Jenni, I don’t know how I feel”

Jenni hasn’t seen her friend like this in a long while. Normally Alexia knows what wants and isn’t afraid to go for it. This though is different. It’s almost like she knows what she wants but she is hesitating and Alexia doesn’t hesitate.

“It’s ok not to know but something is clearly bothering you. What is it?” 

“She is ignoring me”

“Last time I saw you you told me she didn’t want anything to do with you”

So much had changed since then and she didn’t know how to explain it. In the end she told her everything she could without going into the finer details. Alexia confesses her feelings and explains that she cannot get a hold of you and that none on your team mates were answering either.

“Alexia, I may not know why she stopped playing football but I saw the way she played, she loves the sport. Her playing for England again is a big deal. Everyone is talking about her press conference she did this morning, it’s all over social media” 

Alexia wasn’t aware of a press conference. She never goes on social media the day before a match because it is quite often a distraction. Jenni picks up on her friend’s obliviousness and gives alexia her phone so she can see what is being said.

Jenni was right. You are everywhere. 

Y/N Y/L/N makes her return but what does it mean? Why now?

Sarina Weigman confirm Y/N is the captain of this team despite turning her back on them.

Beth Mead ruled out for Semi final, should be back for final if England are successful.

World Cup rematch? Y/N says that Spain wouldn’t have won if she was playing.

Alexia read headline after headline, article after article. She was beginning to feel overwhelmed so she couldn’t imagine what you must have been feeling. The last headline made the Catalonian laugh because she too had thought about what the outcome might have been if you were playing.

“I think the last one is a stretch” Jenni mumbles.

“We will never know” Alexia is ever more determined to get a hold of you. Just as she was about to call you again, a message comes through.

Hi. Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s been a lot. Thank you for checking in on me Alexia, I promise you I’m ok. Good luck in your match tomorrow.

“She’s ok” Alexia tells Jenni as if the forward was the one who was worried about you.

The next day you wake up and are ridden with nerves. It’s not a familiar feeling and you know that you need to calm down before the game or things will end badly. 

Despite protests from your team mates, you will start the game on the bench. It’s the right decision and you make sure to tell Sarina just that. Whilst the team’s recent performances have been spotty to say the least, you refuse to walk back in like nothing had changed. You know you need to earn your place on the pitch with the lionesses.

Spain’s game has an early kick off and finishes just after yours starts. The team get back to the hotel and have organised to watch it the hotel bar. Much to Alexia’s dismay she is called for Media seen as though Spain won and have qualified for the Olympics. 

When she finally joins the team she knows that the first half is over but that’s it.

“What’s the score?” She asks anyone who is listening.

“2–0” Ona says.

“That’s—“ Alexia is cut off before she can finish her sentence.

“To Germany” Jenni knows that Alexia would have wanted England to win if for no other reason than you “Y/N is going on for Toone” 

She cannot help the smile that tugs at her lips as your number goes on the subs board. 

The world watches as Mary runs over to you and gives you the band.

“Welcome back skipper” Mary pushes the band up your arm before you can stop her because she know’s that is what you’ll do. She was there in the captain’s meeting when you told Sarina that you didn’t deserve the captaincy.

“Game on, Maz” 

It felt right being on the pitch and wearing the three lions crest. You allow yourself to take in your return but only for a couple of seconds before you turn your attention to the game and the challenge that you face. 3 goals was a lot to ask for when Germany are playing as good as they are. It wouldn’t be easy and it would take everything you had but you never shied away from a challenge and you wasn’t about to start now.

After about ten minutes you found your rhythm and England were playing the type of football they are known for. It doesn’t take long for LJ to make a run and dance around the opposition. You have faith in her but follow her anyways in case she loses the ball. She doesn’t but Frohms does save her shot, she doesn’t save your rebound though.

“Get the ball” You shout to the Chelsea player. 

When the match restarts, the lionesses are on the hunt. Shot after shot is taken but somehow the ball stays out the net. England get a corner in the 80 minute and you’re lurking on the edge of the box, ready to make your run. Popp is the one marking you because she has studied you new way of play since joining Barcelona. Chloe’s corner is pin point and no amount of research in the world could stop you from getting the second goal and tying the game.

Alexia finds herself up on her feet with Ona and a couple of your team mates when you get your brace.

“Vamos Y/N” she says.

“You do realise that we will face them if they win” Misa reminds her.

“Right now, I don’t care. She deserves this and I’m celebrating my team mate” Alexia didn’t care if she might face you in the final.

“She told you” Aitana whispers as she pulls her captain down to the sofa “That is why she doesn’t hate you anymore and why you’ve stopped interrogating her”

Alexia does nothing but nod. Her fellow midfielder didn’t need to know anything else and she doesn’t ask for it either. She accepts that the reason must be valid if Alexia has dropped her questions.

There are 4 minutes announced of stoppage time. 

When you look up the the score board and see the number you get flashbacks on the euros final. You have been in this position before and came out victorious. Today was going to be no different. 

It was huge mistake by Germany when Gwinn takes down Hemp about a meter outside the box.

In the past you have found yourself stood over the ball with Beth but this game it’s Alex who stands beside you.

With her hand over her mouth she gives you strict instructions.

“You’re taking it” 

It’s not a question and you don’t argue.

“You have saved us tonight, now get your hattrick”

The amount of faith Alex had in you did wonders but it didn’t settle every nerve running through your body. Free kicks were your specialty, this wasn’t nothing new and the pressure was a familiar feeling. 

As soon as you strike the ball you know it’s going in. It’s a hard feeling to describe but many call it shooters instinct, it had never been wrong and it wasn’t now. The ball floated over the wall and went in the further part of the top corner. The shot was unsaveable. You ran over to the bench, more specifically to Sarina, to celebrate with the woman who gave you space and welcomed you back with open arms. 

“It’s like you never left”

Her words caught you off guard. For a brief moment you agreed with her but you got hit by the feeling of grief, you looked towards the family section and there was no one supporting you. Maybe some things hadn’t changed but a lot certainly has. When the full time whistle was blown your team mates ran towards you, all of the congratulating you on your performance and your first game back.

It was a weird kind of celebrations that night. The team was split, half wanted to celebrate getting through the final and the other half knew the job wasn’t done, they knew that the biggest task was yet to be faced. Spain had beaten them before and on the greatest stage, the UEFA national league final could either repeat history and England could rewrite it.

The team travelled to Madrid that night, only hours after the game. Upon arrival almost everyone went to their rooms but not you. You knew sleep wouldn’t come easy so you decided to wander the streets of Madrid. It had become a habit of yours, you would walk around and people watch. Every human had their own story to tell and it made you forget about yours.

You had no destination planned yet you found yourself stopping outside a hotel, the one you know from your text messages with Alexia, was the one the Spain team was staying at. 

A lot of feelings were running through you and you saw this as the universe’s sign that maybe you should talk about them. You have confided in Alexia since Sarina first reached out to you, she knew more than anyone how you really felt about returning and you talked about this very moment, the hours after your first game when the past is very much present in your mind. You remember the words she told you ‘when that happens you call me’ so that is what you do or at least that is what you go to do.

“Y/N” you hear a familiar voice say. You turn to see Jenni, Irene, Laia and Misa walking towards you.

“Hi guys” your voice is quiet, shy almost and you cannot help the way your eyes scan for Alexia knowing full well that these are the people she spends the most time with.

“What are you doing here?” Misa asks you. The two of you hadn’t formally been introduced but you had scored a brace against her in the El Classico.

“I’m—“ 

“Here for Alexia” Jenni says with a knowing look and you cannot help but feel like she knows something you don’t.

You can only nod. Apart from Irene, you didn’t know these girls very well and the version of yourself that you show to strangers is very different to the one that your friends see.

‘I can take you to her. We are roommates” Jenni seems sincere with her words but you feel a pang of jealousy. Everybody knew that the two of them used to date, it shouldn’t bother you, you had no right to be jealous yet that is exactly what you were feeling.

You think about it and Jenni can tell you are thinking about it.

“She hasn’t stopped talking about you and I know she will want to see you. She was your biggest fan when we watched the game” Jenni added hoping to create some sense of comfortability.

“She watched my game?” You asked in disbelief. You thought you had no one but maybe you did, maybe Alexia was the someone that was cheering you on but instead of the family area she was cheering you on from the hotel you were currently standing outside of.

“She did. I think she forgot she was Spanish for a minute” Irene says which causes you to laugh.

“I doubt that but I appreciate the support. You know I shouldn’t be talking to you, you guys are the enemy now” 

“Yet you came here for our captain, she will be your enemy too. Come on, I’ll take you to her. We wouldn’t want you to be spotted outside our hotel, just think of the optics” Jenni once again says.

“Ok” you nod your head a few times to solidify your answer.

The girls lead you through the hotel but only Jenni and Irene stay with you, Misa and Laia walk ahead. The longer you walk the more you begin wondering if this was a good idea. What if you are overstepping your boundaries. You had no right to be here and could easily be turned away at any point.

You enter the lounge area of the hotel which holds the majority of the Spanish national team yet your eyes search for only one. She see’s you before you see her and is walking over to you with a worried look on her face.

“Estas bien? What are you doing here?” Alexia’s arm rests on your shoulder.

“It was an accident. I was out for a walk and I ended up here” you explained.

“She was asking for you” Jenni says even though technically it wasn’t true. In her eyes she wanted to play matchmaker after it was made evidently clear that Alexia was hesitant to peruse things with you even though she had feelings for you.

“Is this true?” Alexia asks and you nod.

“We won, I returned, I scored, wore the armband and I didn’t have anyone is stands” you whispered so only she could hear you.

The look in your eyes changed. For the first time that night you showed your true emotions. Alexia didn’t need to hear anything else. She grabbed your hand and escorted you to the outdoor seating area. She sat down whilst your paced the patio.

“Y/N, come sit down” Alexia pats the seat next to her and you comply “Are you ok, really? What made you come here to me?”

“I’m not ok but I’m more ok than I thought I would be. It’s been quite a day, that game was —“

“Incredible. You changed the entire play” 

“It felt right. I belong on the pitch with the girls, I should never have left” You didn’t register that you felt guilty about your absence until you said the words out loud to Alexia.

“You needed to. You had to process your loss and you returned when you were ready”

Alexia was very understanding, you had to give her that. 

“That answers my first question but the second” the Catalonian didn’t want to push but there had to be a reason and until she heard the truth she was filled with worry. You had been walking the streets of Madrid, alone, at almost midnight.

“Why am I here?” You repeated it. Maybe you hoped that hearing the question again would help you figure out an answer, it did “I wanted to celebrate…….with you. I was surrounded by my team, people I consider family yet you were the one I wanted to call and tell about the game”

You dipped your head when you felt yourself getting emotional. You were suppose to be happy but with everything you were feeling you were overwhelmed. On top of what you were feeling you couldn’t ignore the way your heart beat twice as fast because Alexia was sat opposite you with her hand now resting on your thigh. 

When you looked up Alexia noticed the the tears in your eyes and was quick to wipe away one when it fell.

“I shouldn’t be feeling this way Alexia, it is wrong” you met her eye as you made your version of a confession.

“You can be happy about playing football again Y/N. Natalia would have wanted you to be”

“Don’t say her name, not now” you shook your head and Alexia’s hand fell back to its prior place on your thigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. I can give you space if that what you need” the blonde stands, ready to leave you be but you grab her hand and pull her back down.

“I don’t want space and that is the problem. I wasn’t talking about the game Alexia. I shouldn’t be feeling this way about you” you shook your head in disbelief. You were sure that your shot of happiness died with your wife but you have developed feelings for Alexia and could no longer deny it.

“Y/N” Alexia cupped your face so that you would look at her but when you did, her hand didn’t move.

“Ale” you melted into her touch. That very touch gave you butterflies and you enjoyed the act of intimacy.

The two of you went silent but each of your thoughts were very loud. Alexia glanced at your lips, you knew what she was about to do and you didn’t stop her. Maybe you should have, maybe you should have pulled away but you didn’t. You didn’t move when her lips hovered centimetres from your own, you let her kiss you. You froze in the moment, like a deer in headlights. It was only when you closed your eyes did you realise what was happening. The kiss felt like you were cheating, it felt wrong yet felt so right.

“You shouldn’t have done that. We can’t do this. It was wrong” you pushed Alexia away and stood up hastily.

You stormed away before Alexia had the chance to speak. All eyes were on you as you walked through the sea of Spanish players. Their eyes went from you and then to Alexia who was running through, trying to catch up to you. She was hot on your heels until you turned to face her. She waited a couple of seconds before taking steps towards you.

“Stop” you say but she doesn’t “No!” you held you arm out to further imply your seriousness.

After that she can do nothing else but watch you walk away from her. Her hazel eyes stayed on you until you were out the lobby doors and onto the streets of the Spanish capital.

Alexia was frozen in place. She has ruined everything by rushing but she felt something when she touched you, she felt a spark and that wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t feel the same thing she did. You told her that had feelings for her, you came all this way to see her. Those things meant something but maybe she had read it wrong, maybe it had all been in her head.

“Alexia, are you ok? You’re crying” Irene appeared in front of her. The woman in question was quick to wipe her eyes in hope that no one else would see her tears.

“I’m fine. It’s getting late, everyone should go to their rooms. We have a final to prepare for and we need to be at our best” Alexia walked away.

The two of you were very quiet in the upcoming days and were laser focused on the task at hand. Beat the opposing team and being the first even UEFA Nations League champions. Both of your team mates could tell something was wrong but they didn’t know what to do. Your team mates wasn’t aware of your late night adventures until Aitana texted Keira to ask if you were ok and told her that Alexia wasn’t after you showed up at their hotel. The English midfielder kept this to herself given that Lucy has only just got started talking to Alexia and there were a few players on the team who’s protectiveness could rival the defenders.

By the time the day of the final came around there was plenty of reason for concern but both teams knew that this is what you had been working towards. Yes, a trophy was on the line but it was the previous trophy that was the topic of conversation. 

The first time Alexia saw you was when they arrived for the pitch inspection. You were near the goal with LJ, it has become a new pre match routine for the two of you. Well you did it the game a couple of days ago and you won that so the two of you gravitated towards the goal today. 

Alexia wanted to go to you and that is what she was going to do until she felt a hand grab her wrist.

“Alexia” 

She turned to face Keira.

“Leave her be”

“I didn’t mean to upset her. We were talking about feelings and then I kissed her, I couldn’t help it. It felt right in the moment” Alexia couldn’t stop talking. It’s like was making a confession and Keira would be the one deciding whether or not it was a sin.

Meanwhile the English midfielder couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Sure she had suspected something was going on between the two of you but she also had a strong sense that you wasn’t ready for anything knew. In her eyes you were still healing.

“You kissed her?” Keira whispered as not to bring attention to their conversation.

Alexia was about to explain further but Keira stopped her as she sure her other team mate coming towards them.

“Lucy is coming. I will talk to you about this later” 

It was as if Keira flipped a switch. Her look of concern was replaced with a smile and she even put on a fake laugh so Lucy wouldn’t arrive to an awkward silence. Soon enough it was a gathering of Barcelona players yet Alexia could stay focused on what her friends were saying for you were beginning to walk towards her.

In your eyes you wanted to talk to Alexia and you knew you needed to. The other night was a lot for you to process but you did owe her an explanation for leaving, that much you did know. She looked good as you watched her enter the pitch. You let your eyes linger in the most discreet way possible. 

“You and Putellas?” LJ asked you. She wasn’t aware of what happened, nor did she know you were married. In her eyes, you were hiding something and she wasn’t wrong.

“We are friends…..I think. It’s complicated” you admitted knowing that Lauren wouldn’t push you further.

“Uncomplicate it” she suggested.

“If only it was that easy. Let’s head in and get ready”

You felt the change in heartbeat again as you got closer to where Alexia was standing. Your head might have been all over the place but you heart was being very clear in what it wanted only you weren’t ready to admit it.

“Y/N” Alexia shouted to you as you walked past her.

“Hi” for whatever reason, you pulled her into a hug “Good luck today, you’re going to need it” 

You both started laughing at the quick change of energy.

“I don’t think it’s us that need luck. We beat you in the summer” Alexia was cocky but she wasn’t confident.

“You didn’t beat me though” you couldn’t help but smile at her.

Your smile was genuine and that is something Alexia took great hope in seeing. Maybe you weren’t mad at her, maybe you just needed a little space.

What you said next doubled that hope.

“Come find me after the game”

Then just as quick as the hope was there, it wasn’t.

“We need to talk”

Those 4 words struck fear in Alexia but she didn’t have the chance to say anything because you were already down the tunnel by the time she came to her senses.

Your was brought up several times in the Spanish locker room and each time all eyes fell to Alexia for she is the one that knew you most. She had learnt how you think, what plays you are going to make before you make them. In her team’s eyes she knew how to stop you. Only it wasn’t that easy. Alexia did knew how you play but that style changes when you are hungry, like you have a point to prove and this game brought both of those things.

“Stop focusing on Y/N! If you focus on how to stop her then you’ve already lost. Focus on stopping her from getting the ball” That is the last thing she said before heading out into the tunnel. 

The lionesses were waiting for her, she expected it. It was an intimidation tactic. You weren’t there and that was a surprise, she would have bet good money that you would be in the starting 11. Mary stood opposite her and smirked when she saw the look of bewilderment on the opposing players face. 

Alexia wanted to say something, she kept looking back at the team. If she was paying attention she would notice that there was only 10 players on the England side of the tunnel. With her eyes now facing forward she didn’t see you walking towards the front of the line. The sound of your cleats fell on deaf ears.

Her head shot to the side when she caught a glimpse of you standing next to her with the pendent in your hand.

“Capital Y/L/N, nice to see you back where you belong” Alexia covered her mouth, her being well aware that there were cameras on her.

You shake your head at her greeting.

“Captain Putellas. You’re going to wish I wasn’t” you had one last attempt to get in her head.

“No I won’t. Win or lose today, this is something the world, myself included, has been waiting for” 

You thought you would get a smart remark not a reply that was genuine.

“Alexia” 

“Y/N” 

Those were the last words spoken except from a good look after the coin toss.

You called a huddle before everyone got into place. This game was important, not only because of the trophy on the line but it was the lionesses chance at redemption. To prove that it was only one game.

“I want you all to do something for me. Play for right now, not for the past. You cannot change what happened in the summer, no matter how hard you try. Winning today won’t get you the star on the shirt but it can be the reset you guys have been wanting. That loss has been haunting you, I can see it by the look on your faces and I promise you here today that if you play with revenge in your hearts then you will fail. Yes, this is Spain but we are England. We don’t stay down, we get up and fight. We stand together as a team, a pride. We go out there and leave everything on the pitch” 

Each player is hooked on every word as you give Mary the signal. 

“England on three” 

You all come together one more time before getting in position.

Alexia tries to do the same by most of the team is watching you.

“She is going to make it hard” Olga tells her captain.

“She is going to make our lives hell for the next 90 minutes but that’s not to say we can’t give it back. Look at that star on your shirt, we got that by beating this team. Yes, Y/N wasn’t playing but she is one player. As good as she may be, we are better. You’ve seen what everyone is saying, they are calling our World Cup win a fluke, that we didn’t win but England lost. We may have qualified for the Olympics but our job is not done. We have a trophy to win. Vamos Espana” 

Just like England did, Spain come together before readying themselves for the game.

The game which starts in the worst possible way for the away team. It seems the your players might be a bit more nervous that they are letting on. Inside the first 15 minutes Salma gets through on goal and sends Spain up 1-0. It wasn’t ideal but it didn’t mean the game was over either. You were playing safe, as a way to get the most out of the team around you. When the first half is done with you haven’t take a single shot on goal. 

Spain entered the tunnel happy and England entered it less so.

The atmosphere was eerie in the locker room and you could see the self doubt radiating off your team mates.

Sarina takes the floor and explains all sorts of strategies but nobody is listening. They are in their own head.

“Do you mind?” You walk up to Sarina hoping to have a talk with your team. The coach happily steps aside.

“How many of you are thinking about the World Cup? Raise your hand” nobody does and you decide to call bullshit “You’re lying and I won’t have that. You are telling me none of you are out there thinking of the summer? the picture of them lifting the trophy that should have been yours?” 

One by one players begin lifting their hands.

“I can stand here and say I haven’t been good enough. I need to be better and I will be better. In 45 minutes we will be crowned champions. The question is are we going to do it in style or are we going to make it harder for ourselves? We know what we need to do and we will do it” 

You leave the locker room and go back out onto the pitch. You are the first one out there and you take a minute to look at the score board. 1-0. You hated to lose but more than that, you hated to let people down. You made the decision to come back and you didn’t do that to come second.  You returned to be a champion and to make Natalia proud, you wasn’t doing to let her down. You had spent the past couple of days trying not to think about her and maybe that was the problem. She was your greatest strength, your biggest supporter and she may be no longer with you, you may be beginning to move on but that doesn’t mean you have to forget about her. No, you need to play for her just as you always did.

The first ten minutes of the second half it was like a different team was on the pitch. England were pushing and pressing and Spain were struggling. In the 67 minute was when the game was made even once again. You and hempo were tiring out the defence and it made them vulnerable. On one counter attack they couldn’t keep up. Irene was the only player standing between you and Cata but she could see Hempo running up beside you. She found herself in a lose lose situation so she stuck with you in hopes that the pressure would work, it didn’t. You pull her in just enough to give hempo enough space. At the last minute you passed to your left and she fired the ball into the back of the net.

Game on.

Spain were beginning to tire and the one touch football that was known around the world began to work in favour of England. They were unable to play out from the back because you, Alessia, Hempo and LJ was pressing the defence. It was mind play and it was working. 

It was during a corner where things got interesting.

“Keep going!” You clapped your hands to rally the team “we are in their heads, now we end it” 

“You’re not in our heads” Alexia says as she chooses to mark you. It was a tactic they hadn’t done yet, so far Jenni had marked you.

“Just you saying that is proof that we are but feel free to prove me wrong” you had a minute to talk as the ref walk talking to Lucy and Irene.

“I will. Let’s make it interesting. You score right now and I’ll buy you a drink later”

“So that means I’ll be taking the trophy and your money? Oh you’re on” 

Alexia followed you are you walked around the box as you got into position. You would end up in one or two places; front post or in the middle. Never did she think you would make a run for the back post and swap positions will Lucy. The change caught Alexia out and when the ball hit the back of the neck she shook her head in defeat. 

She had played right into your hands. You had pulled her in with your words and left her hanging when you celebrated what would go on to be the winning goal of the game.

You had to take a moment when the game was over. Everyone was celebrating but you and Lucy made the effort to congratulate your club team mates of a game well played.

“Ay, Capi. You’re predictable you know that?” Lucy threw her arms around the Catalonian.

“Lucy!” You slapped her on the back of the head “What she meant to say is you guys played a good game and that we will see you in Paris”

“We’ll see them in Barcelona” Lucy tried to correct you.

“I mean on the pitch as opponents, idiot”  

Alexia was to focused on what the defender said first to hear the bickering that was now taking place between the two of you.

“What did she mean?” Alexia asked you.

Lucy gave you a look before leaving the two of you be.

“You once told me that in order to see yourself as the best, you had to beat the best. Tonight you wanted to beat me”

“No, I —“ 

“You did and that’s ok. I wanted to beat you too. It’s our competitive nature. That need you had allowed us a way in. I didn’t know it would come from a corner, only that in at least one part of the game you will stick to me just so you could say you got the upper hand”

“I should have dropped you off, let Irene pick you up and followed Lucy” Alexia understands the error she made.

“You should have but don’t beat yourself up about it. That wasn’t our first plan or second. Our plan was for Hempo to tire Ona out and for Lucy to get inside Olga’s head. Without those two things happening, we wouldn’t have got the corner in the way we did”

Alexia didn’t know whether to be pissed off or impressed that you read her and her team so well.

“You deserve the win today. Go celebrate with your team” 

“I will but remember you owe me a drink. I’ll text you the address of wherever we go. Invite the girls too”

Alexia watched you walk away but there was one more thing she wanted to tell you only she feared it would do more damage than good. In the end she bite the bullet and ran to you.

“Y/N” 

“Hi again” you laughed “Do you want another explanation of our strategy? We can always watch the game back when we in home in Barcelona” 

Home in Barcelona. There is something about the way you said it that made alexia feel warm and fuzzy inside.  She quickly shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts and the overthinking that came with them.

“I just want to say that Natalia would have been proud of you today. Not just today but the other game too. I know it’s not my place to say that because I didn’t know her but you should know that. You—“ Alexia began rambling.

“Breathe. Thank you for saying that. I know she is looking down on me right now with a huge smile on her face and truth is if I think about her too much then I think I might cry so I don’t want to go into that right now. Thank you though” 

Alexia couldn’t help but feel like she shouldn’t have said that.

The ceremony went by in the blind of an eye. One minute you are waiting for Spain to collect their medals, the next you are raising the trophy with Mary. Back in the locker room you find yourself staring at the medal on your neck. Never in your professional career had one stayed on your neck for this long and never has the gold felt so heavy. It felt like it was weighing you down so you take it off and stuff it into your back. You would talk about that means with your therapist if you had one. 

Later on in the night you found yourself at the hotel bar with the rest of the team celebrating. You tried your best to be happy and part of you truly was but you life off the field was becoming more complicated and hard to ignore.

“Excuse me” you tell the group that included Leah, Georgia, Keira and Lucy. 

“Should we be concerned?” Georgia asks.

“Yes but let her have a moment. These past ten days have been a lot for her” Lucy tells her friend.

They watched as you paced back and forth on the balcony. To the English it was warm outside but there was still a chill in the air and you weren’t wearing a jacket. Keira kept looking at her watch asking herself how long is long enough before she goes out to you. 

Some of the Spanish team arrive about an hour after the lionesses. Some of them go to the bar, some go to friend but Alexia, well she only had one interest and she couldn’t it or more specifically couldn’t find you. Her eyes scanned the room one, twice and third time. She had her phone out ready to call just as she sees you. 

Leah catches her walking towards you and wants to stop her.

“What is she doing” The blonde asks defensively “Y/N doesn’t want anything to do with her”

The Arsenal player has heard about you bust up when Keira visiting England over Christmas. 

“Things are different now but I’m not sure this is the right thing to do. Alexia!” Keira shouts her club captain over.

“Hola. Congratulations again. You guys sure know how to party” she tried to be polite even though she had no interest in a conversation with anyone who wasn’t you.

“Thank you” Leah seems genuine “Were you going to see Y/N?” 

Alexia nods.

“That might not be the best idea right now. I think she needs a minute to herself. It’s been quite the day for her”

“I know. That’s why I want to talk to her” Alexia knew that you might be been struggling but to her that was all the more reason for her to talk to you.

“She won’t even wear her medal” Georgia adds earning her a shove. As far as the English players are aware, Alexia didn’t know anything.

“That isn’t surprising. Every tournament until this one she has given her medal to Natalia” Alexia says as if it is the most obvious thing but your friends didn’t put two and two together.

“Wait” Lucy says “She told you about her?” Again, Alexia nods.

“When? She hasn’t talked about her since she passed” the defender added.

“After Christmas” Alexia explains but goes no further.

“That’s why she went to you the other night but then you—“

“Keira, I won’t talk about that right now. I just want make sure she is ok and I can’t do that if I am being interrogated by you” 

With that Alexia leaves your friends speechless and makes her way towards the balcony.

As quietly as possible, Alexia slides the door open and closes it behind her. She didn’t want to startle you so she watched from a distance. Your face wasn’t puffy so you hadn’t been crying but your posture was stiff so you were stressed.

“They’ve spent the past hour burning holes in the back of my head from their staring yet you have come straight out” you turn to see Alexia resting against the door. 

“I owe you a drink and —” 

“And yet your hands are empty” you point to Alexia’s hand which as you stated aren’t holding a drink “You can come closer you know. I’m not going to blow”

“I know it’s just that—“

“The last time we were along I ran away crying” you laugh as you think back to that night. Things were going really well until they wasn’t.

“Are you going to let me finish a sentence or are you going to keep talking for me?”

You mumble an apology and signal for her to continue.

“Your friends know I know and I accidentally told keira we kissed” 

“Figures. She has been hovering” 

The two of you go quiet. It’s not awkward, it’s comfortable but even then it’s not what either of you wanted.

“You said we needed to talk” Alexia didn’t want to push things and you had told her this before the game.

“We do. What happened the other night it—“

“Shouldn’t have happened”

“Who is finishing the other’s sentences now” 

“Lo siento”

“As I was saying” you send her smirk so she knows she isn’t in trouble “The other night was very overwhelming for me, not because I didn’t like what happened but because I did. I told you that I had feelings and those feelings are for you Alexia. You make me feel things that I thought I’d never feel again. I promised my heart and love to her Alexia and to feel these things for someone else is like an act of betrayal. It feels wrong but I don’t want those feelings to stop. You kissed me and I knew it was going to happen yet I didn’t to stop it. I shouldn’t have ran away like that”

“It was a lot for you, I understand that” Alexia tried to reassure you that it was ok.

“It was but I should have stayed. You wanted to talk to me and I didn’t give you the opportunity. Just because I lost someone doesn’t mean that it’s only my feelings that matter. I’m sorry Alexia” 

Alexia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Since you said the words ‘we need to talk’ she has been trying to think of all the things you could have said, an apology was not one of them.

“Can I say what I would have that night?” Alexia asks and you nods your head whilst closing the distance between you.

“Those feelings you talked about, I feel them too. Things changed between us after you told me and I couldn’t ignore it, trust me I tried. I was also aware of your loss and that this might not be something you are ready for so I talked to my mum one night. She is the only other person I know who has experienced the same loss you have. I told her that I had fallen for you and that I wanted to act on my feelings. You know what she told me? She told me that time heals all wounds but no amount of time is the same. If I wanted to prove to you that I truly liked you then I would need to take it slow so that is what I am willing to do. If you want to pursue this then we will take it slow, as slow as you need. You said it feels like an act of betrayal and I respect that. I won’t push you into anything you’re not ready for”

Alexia reached out for you and noticed once again tears were falling down your face.

“I have made you cry again. I shouldn’t have said anything. Y/N I am so sorry”

“Alexia, these aren’t sad tears” you reach for her hand  “I can’t promise you that this will be easy. When Natalia died she took a lot of my heart with her and I don’t know how much is left but I want to share what I have left with you. Please be patient with me Alexia because I don’t know how to do this again. For most of my life it has been her and I but now I get the chance at happiness again, with you. We can take this slow?”

“We will go as slow are you want. I have nothing but time for you Y/N”

Alexia knew what to say and for the first time in a long time you found yourself leaning forward. Just as you were about to kiss her she moves and kisses your cheek.

“Slowly Y/N” Alexia winked causing you to chuckle “How about we go for dinner when we return to Barcelona?“

“I would really like that”

“Me too. Now if I remember correctly I owe you a drink” Alexia holds the door open so that you both can rejoin the party.

“That does seem to be the case. Make it a double. It’s not every day you pull one over on La Reina to score the winning goal” you shoved her playfully.

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Hey, could I request a Pablo Gavi x reader where gavi and the fcb guys all go to this fancy restaurant to celebrate their victory later and they're so impressed by the food they ask to meet the chef and the sous chef (the reader) comes over and meets them and gavi is just literally heart eyes for her and it's fluffy and cute. You can decide the rest of the story and the ending.

PS: i love your writing style it's amazing and your stories are very cute too 🤩🤩

Here it is! Combined both reqs because yeah💀😭 Hope you like it and sorry for the lateness😭🥴 this is also pretty short, sorry😭😭😭

My Chef -P.G

Summary: You found the way to his heart by his stomach

The things you could hear at the restaurant besides the low music, were praises of how good the food was.

"Oh god, this food is so good!"

"It truly is"

"The steak is on total point"

"I never loved a simple cesar salad more than this one"

"Can we met the chef?"

When Xavi invited the team to a dinner regarding their win on LaLiga, they never thought all they would do is talk about the chef and how good it is.

Much less, they expected a 19 year old girl. They were all impressed by your cooking skills and all of them praised your hard work. Meanwhile you, couldn't believe it. Your dreams were becoming true and having the acceptance of the whole Barcelona crew gave you a lot of points with your professor and the owner of the restaurant.

On the other hand, there was a certain player; who was both impressed and mesmerized by your food and by your looks.

And that one was Pablo Gavi.

He was literally giving you heart eyes and the guys were making fun of him for it. That night, he left that restaurant with you on his mind.

Javier, Aurora's boyfriend, invited the whole Páez Gavira family to a dinner a few days after the winning celebration, Pablo inmediately offered the restaurant, he was a few nights before.

"That's exactly where we are going"

"Oh, yes! I'll definitely be there then"

Aurora heard her younger brother's hurried words and instantly knew he had something going on.

Pablo's eyes inmediately lighted up and he nodded, already imagining the outfit he was going to wear and how he was styling his hair. Ready to surprise you and hopefully get your attention.

The night Pablo was waiting came and he found himself once again in the restaurant waiting for you and your food.

After they ordered, they waited for the food and as the first spoonful came into their mouths, groans of delight came from Aurora, Javi, Pablo, Belén and Gavi.

"I need to see this chef" Belén said "I want their recipe" Pablo laughed

I want to see her too. Pablo thought with a small smile.

Whilst waiting for their bill, you came up to them.

"Hello" You said with a smile coming up to the table "Is there anything else we can help you with?"

"Oh, yes!" Pablo said "Can we met the chef who did this?"

"It's me" Gavi smiled when you said it proudly and looked up at you "Is there something wrong, sir?"

"The only wrong thing will be if you don't give me the recipe for the lasagna and the cheesecake" You giggle blushing "And also, why the little portion?"

"Oh! You scared me for a second" They laughed "You have a pen and a piece of paper?"

As Belén got your tips and stuffs, Gavi smiled looking at you

"You're amazing, thank you for the food"

"Thank you, miss. I appreciate it" You smiled "Is there anything else I can help you with?" They shook their heads and you nodded excusing yourself before leaving.

Gavi cursed himself out and stood up without saying anything surprising his family, he walked towards you were

"I-umm-I" Gavi said before coughing up a little bit "I need something" You nodded smiling "I came here last week and ever since then I've been thinking of you" You blushed softly giggling "Can I please get your number?"

"Do you have somewhere to write it down?" He instantly pulled out his phone unlocked "My name's Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N"

"Pablo, Pablo Gavi" You smile shaking his hand and kissing both of his cheeks

"I'll be waiting for your text, Pablo Gavi" You sent him a wink as he smiled blushing, you returned his smile

"You won't have to wait for so long, Chef Y/L/N. It's coming right now, you've been on my mind so much these days to just disappear after getting your number"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela @chupapigavi

[starrynite7114]

tea party (daddy angel)

A/N: Ello everyone! Here I am, trying my best to survive finals the best way I know how, writing my feelings away. This is a fluffy one since I just need this to survive finals and work. I’m trying to make my way through my requests, if you’ve made a request, I’m trying my best to write it! I apologize for it taking so long, I get side tracked and I’m just the worst at times. But fret not, I will finish your requests soon!

Anyone else going through finals, let’s finish strong!

Also, the way you love me part two and two weeks notice are the next to be updated. I will not post any other updates till I update these two stories! 

Love you all! 

10 days till Christmas!

Groupchat for updates! Please join since the tags could be a bit iffy at times!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

Masterlist

Word count: 3109

Warnings: NONE! FLUFF!

CREDITS TO THE ORIGINAL GIF MAKER! <3

You looked at Emilia as she looked around the scrapyard, looking for her favorite person, of the week. The five year old was the spitting image of you with the personality of her father. You followed after her, the sunset making the heat of the desert that much bearable, which was why you were at the scrapyard. Going further in where the clubhouse was, Emilia spotted her favorite person, Creeper.

“Tio!” She exclaimed loudly causing the Mayan men that were outside to look over at her. They all looked at one another before they groaned when she added the name. “Cree!” Creeper was not sometbing Emilia could pronounce that well two years ago and Cree just stuck.

Creeper flipped the rest of the guys the bird before making his way over to Emilia and meeting her half way.

“Hola princesa,” he kissed her cheek, making Emilia squeal in delight.

“How am I not ever a favorite?” Angel question, a pout on his face as you greeted him with a kiss and a hug. 

“Your daddy, you’re always the favorite.” You knew that was partially true. Angel was Emilia’s forever favorite, but with her Tio’s it was a rotating system. 

“Not true, she favors you over me.” Angel wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. 

“For this week, she’s playing us baby. Emilia knows the game.” You watched as Emilia animatedly spoke to Creeper and Riz about the latest toys she received. “She has them wrapped around her finger.”

“She has all of us wrapped around her finger.” Angel chuckled. He kissed the top of your head one more time before walking over to join them. 

“Mommy!” You heard your eldest, Xavier call for you.

You turned to face your eight year old and he ran straight to you. A chuckle escape your lips as he wrapped his arms around you, careful with your portruding belly. 

“Hi baby sister.” He softly patted your belly, you smiled as you felt the baby kick. You were six months pregnant and you were ecstatic to be pregnant again. You and Angel always wanted a big family, but you knew after these two, you were done. You just haven’t told Angel you were having twins. 

“How you know it’s a baby sister?” You wrapped an around around his shoulder as you both make your way to Emilia who had Angel, Creeper, Riz and Bishop all around her. 

“It’s big brother instinct.” He proudly told you. 

Xavier was the spitting image of Angel with a mixture of yours and his personality. The quiet, mild tempered eldest was everything you and Angel could dream of as a big brother. He dotted over Emilia and did whatever his baby sister wanted. 

‘As long as she’s smiling then that’s all that matters.’ 

Your little man was too wise for his years, it was the reason the other members always messed with Angel that it didn’t seem like Xavier was his kid. But they just didn’t know the mature side of Angel. He was always goofy, but Angel could be as wise as Coco and Ezekiel when he wanted to be. He just decided to fit the mold that was carved for him, it made him feel unpredictable, except with you. The way you read him so well used to frustrate him, but now, he saw the benefits. It still annoyed him especially when you what to do to get him out of his funk. Sometimes he wanted to stay in his funk, but you wouldn’t let him.

‘We’re a team. Pout all you want by expect you outside in twenty minutes ready to spend the day with me and the kids. Club business is club business. In our home, we matter most. Club business stay outside.’ Then you would pause a mischievous smirk on your face whenever you two would have this talk. ‘But if you want to take out your frustrations on me in the privacy of our room, then we can do that too daddy.’

He would be a goner and this was why you were pregnant with baby #3.

You and Angel have been together for over ten years and married for four. Angel could never admit why it took so long for him to pop the question. It was the age at first, too young to marry, even though you two had Xavier two years in your relationship. Then being in danger came to play. Being almost kidnapped almost tore you two apart, but before it could become permanent, Angel snapped out of his stupor and stayed put. Emilia came then. 

When she turned two, on your anniversary, Angel popped the question and the rest has been history. 

“Xavi!” Emilia broke away from Creeper and went to her forever favorite, her big brother Xavier. You’re not sure how you two were so lucky that Xavier and Emilia were as close as they were, but you never questioned it. The two were inseparable and they both had such a hard time whenever Xavier had to school and two year old Emilia had to say goodbye to her older brother for a few hours.

“Mia,” he fondly wrapped his arms around her. Mia was his nickname, no one else’s, not even daddy or mommy could call her that. It was for Xavi alone. 

“Xavi, I invited daddy, Tio Creep and Tio Riz to our tea party!” There was no need to invite Xavier, he was always there, no matter what. Everyone else was invited to their tea party. “Mommy, you can come too.”

“Why thank you for inviting me Emmy.” You laughed. 

“What about me sweetheart? I don’t get invited?” Bishop crouched down to be Emilia’s eye level.

“Daddy said you’re too old to have a tea party with us.” 

Everyone held back their laughter as Bishop looked up at Angel.

“Kids, say the silliest things.” Angel chuckled nervously as he steered Emilia away from Bishop. “I think she misunderstood, I said you have important matters to attend to prez.”

“Yeah, okay dipshit.” Bishop smacked Angel upside the head.

“Jar!” Emilia yelled out.

No one was allowed to swear around Emilia. It was a rule made since she absorbed everyone’s words.

Every. Single. One. 

“How was the OB appointment?” Angel questioned, caressing your belly.

“Good, the baby is doing well.” You corrected babies in your head, but you kept it to yourself. You wanted to keep it between you and Angel, you wanted to tell him when you were all home.

“You really don’t want to find out what we’re having?” It was a hoax deal you made with Angel. You knew what you two were having, but again, you wanted to surprise him.

“Babe, don’t you like the element of surprise?” You wrapped your arms around Angel’s neck, giving him your infamous pout that Emilia inherited from you.

“Oh fuck no baby, not the pout.” Angel groaned. “Fine, happy wife, happy life.”

“I knew you would see it my way.” You kissed him, hearing your kids groan.

“Hey, when you get your first girlfriend, mama and I are gonna be groaning like that too.” Angel warned Xavier. He turned to his little princess and shook his head. “No relationship for you, girl or boy.”

“Angel!” 

You were cooking dinner for the night, your house was a full house once again. Once a week, your home was basically the center location for the Mayans to have dinner. You loved hosting your second family and you knew the kids loved having their family over, especially Emilia since before dinner, they all had a tea party. It was always amusing to see some of the Mayans men gathered around her coffee table, playing with Emilia.

“You need help mommy?” Xavier broke away from the group, making sure you were good. Ever since you became pregnant, Xavier was your little shadow while Angel was your big, sometimes annoying shadow. Pregnancies were difficult for you, but Angel could be over the top. Your little man tried to give you your space as much  as he could, but whatever you needed, he got for you.

“I’m good baby boy, go back to the tea party, Emmy doesn’t like being away from you.” You advised him.

“It’s okay, daddy and the other tio’s have been occupied.” 

You gave him an odd look before closing the oven door and walking over to the technically divided living room and kitchen. There on the floor all around the table was Angel, Creeper, Riz and new one Bishop, who was being taught proper tea etiquette.

Bishop ran Templo, but Emilia Marisol Reyes ran this Reyes household, followed after you of course. You could see the other members holding back their laughter as Emilia shook her head vehemently when Bishop just tried to drink from the tea cup without holding it properly.

Angel tried to mask his laughter with a cough, but Bishop shot him a look.

“Tio Ish! You’re not paying attention to me. I’m the princess and this is my royal tea party.” The pout on her lips made Bishop sigh.

“Sorry princesa, Tio is new at this.” Bishop held his hand out so that Emilia could put his hand on his. “Lo siento.”

“Okay, since you’re my favorite.” She smiled such a bright smile, Bishop felt accomplished for the day.

“Hey, wait a minute, I’m her favorite!” Creeper interjected. 

“Be quiet, I’ve never been the favorite.” Bishop glared at the Mayan’s road captain who immediately zipped his mouth.

Angel looked over at you, giving you a wink. You playfully rolled your eyes and continued cooking.

“When you drink, you have to lift your pinky up like this.” Emilia proceeded to demonstrate for Bishop. “And you have to drink slowly since it’s hot.” She turned to Angel and scooted closer to Bishop. “Daddy always burns himself because he mostly pays attention to mommy when we play.” It was a failed attempt at whispering that made the men at the table laugh.

Angel excused himself from the party and let Xavier take his seat. He walked over to you, his muscular arms wrapping around you, his hands resting on your stomach.

“Hey mami,” he placed a kiss on your neck, nuzzling you.

“Hey,” you leaned your head to the side to touch his. 

“You good?”

“Angel, don’t make me strangle you.” You threatened Angel at least twice a day. It didn’t matter to him since it was endearing.

“Like with my head in between your thighs?”

You laughed, playfully elbowing your husband. “See this is why I’m pregnant.”

“And? I told you, basketball team.” He turned you to face him. The smile on Angel’s face always got you in trouble, but there was no other partner in crime you would choose to get in trouble with or to be in love with. 

“Unless you start popping babies, I might be all tapped out after this one.” You truly were. Twins were going to be crazy and the last thing you needed was another bundle of joy after them. You love having kids with Angel, but you had to be mindful as well. 

“Come on mi amor, at least two more.”

You laughed in your head. After he finds out you’re carrying twins, he may not feel the same.

“Daddy! It’s my time, mommy is cooking! You said not to bother mommy while she cooks.” You both heard Emilia call out.

You and Angel looked at one another and laugh. He kissed you once again before placing a kiss on your stomach. He walked over to Emilia and sat beside his little princesa. 

“As a new member, you must tell us your favorite person.” It was a rule Emilia made up. Anyone new who joined the tea party had to tell everyone who their favorite person was, and there was only one answer. 

Emilia.

Bishop chuckled. “Of course it’s you princesa.”

The smile on Emilia’s face was priceless. As soon as Emilia came in this world, everyone knew that the Mayans men were going to be suckers for her. And they were right. Emilia was not bratty and for such a young child, knew her boundaries. She pushed it from time to time, but you and Angel always put your foot down when she did.

“You’re my favorite too! Forever and ever!”

All the men shared a look, they knew that the statement was valid, until Taza came back from visiting family.

Her one true favorite who braided her hair and gave her anything she wanted. She may have a new favorite every week, but Taza would always be the person she was drawn to.

“Mommy said that we should all wear tiara’s,” she paused for a moment and looked at you as you peaked over at them again. “Headbands as it is proper, hair wear for tea parties.”

The men looked at you and you held your hands up. “Head wear baby. And don’t look at me, we’ve seen several tea parties and a majority of them the guest wear head wear. It’s fancy after all and, Emilia is your princesa.”

“Baby, some tea parties don’t have it. You don’t want to mess Tio Riz’s beautiful hair.” Angel pointed out.

Emilia turned to Riz, those puppy dog eyes of hers immediately encapturing him.

“Anything for you,” Riz put on the the tiara that she referred to as head wear.

The men followed suit and the tea party continued. Dinner went off without a hitch and now, you were leaning against the headboard with Angel massaging your aching feet.

“Baby, you’re so good at this.” You threw your head back, loving the feel of Angel’s fingers against your feet.

“Sometimes, I feel like you married me because I got the magic fingers.” The mischievous smirk on his face hinted that his meaning was anything but innocent. “My fingers always got you moaning.”

“You’re too much at times.” You laughed, throwing a pillow at him.

Angel easily dodged it and joined in with your laughter. 

“Thank you.”

You looked down at Angel and raised an eyebrow at his thankfulness. “For what?”

“For our family, for accepting my family.” Angel always wondered why you decided to stick by him.

“What? Of course. Angel, we’ve been together for so long. I know why you tried to push me away, but you’re lucky I’m sure a wonderful and forgiving woman.” You blew him a kiss and he smiled. 

“I’m lucky to have you mi corazon. You’re the love of my life.” The way his eyes softened as he looked up at you, you returned his gaze with the same softness.

“You’re the love of my life too.”

Angel crawled over to you, kissing you. He was on his side, your face turned towards him. His hand was on your belly as it always was when you were pregnant. Angel loved it when you were pregnant. Knowing you two created something together, it always made his heart swell.

He was a man who never thought he deserved anything, but everytime he looked at you and your two kids, he knew that this was made for him, he was where he was supposed to be. He may be a bastard, but God was forgiving.

“Did you really not find out what we’re having?” Angel found it peculiar since you didn’t want to be surprised. You wanted to know so you could plan. And he went with whatever you wanted.

You hit your lip and placed your hands on top of his that we’re resting on your belly.

“We’re having a boy.” The smile that spread across his face was just priceless. You loved seeing Angel’s smile, you always made it your mission to keep that smile on his face. “And a girl.”

“Another boy, guess we’re out numbering you. Wait we’re tied cause we’re having a girl.” Your words finally sunk in and he looked at you with the most confused face. “Bring that back one more time. We’re having a boy and a girl?”

You’re eyes welled up as you nodded your head. The disbelief, yet the happiness on Angel’s face was unmistakenable. 

“Baby, holy fuck.” He looked down at your six month only belly. “Twins? Fuck, my Olympic swimmers are champions.”

“Angel! You’re such a dork.” You wiped the few tears that came down, you blamed hormones but Angel always said you cried easily.

“Don’t lie baby, all of our children was like one shot done.” His ego impressed you, but also annoyed you. But you also loved this big goof. “Baby, twins, fuck. And you want to stop after them?”

“Let’s give it a few years, let’s revisit.” You kissed the tip of his nose.

“Emilia was with you, I’m surprised she didn’t shout it out.” Angel then began to worry. Emilia was used to being the only girl. He didn’t want his baby girl to feel replaced, just like how he felt with EZ. “Shit, what if Emmy doesn’t want a baby sister?”

“Doesn’t want a baby sister? She’s already planning their shared room. Emilia is going to be a great big sister, just like Xavier is such a good big brother. You want to know why?”

Angel looked at you, waiting for your answer.

“Cause they see how much their daddy loves their Tio EZ. They loved seeing you two together and I do as well.”

Angel began to tear up then, burying his face at the crook of your neck. Emilia already had the MC at the palm of her hands, another girl? It was going to be a sweet disaster for the MC.

You couldn’t even think of what would happen once Emilia and your unborn baby girl was going to bring home boyfriends, when tea parties would no longer be their go to but actually parties.

“Shit, more tea parties.” Angel broke you away from your thoughts. 

You laughed. “Shut up, you know you secretly love them.”

And he did. Angel wanted to cherish the moments the Emilia still wanted to be a daddy’s girl. He wanted to cherish the moments where it was still cool to hang out with daddy. He knew eventually that won’t be the case, but he tried not to think of that.

“Can we have a baby every few years, just so we can always have a full house?”

“Again, unless you’re popping them, that’s a no for me.” 

If you were being honest, Angel would eventually get you to agree. You wanted a big family and honestly, with the support you had, there was nothing wrong with having a big family. 

More tea party guests. 

=================

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[infernwetrust]

AHS 1984: Between The Lines [Xavier Plympton x Chet Clancy] 2. Upset Me

PART 1

Summary: A world before the horror. A world with some horrors. A fantasy world, where things are slightly normal. A world where Chet Clancy has been in a relationship with his long term girlfriend, Brooke Thompson. A world where Xavier Plympton, struggles to find himself after a dark past. But what if I told you that's not all who Chet is romantically involved with? What if I told you there’s a little bit more to Xavier than what he presents himself to be? What if I told you to read between the lines? Together we'll explore friendship, love, deceit, and sexuality on a different level.

Rated: R for Restricted. 18+ Very Mature Themes.

Warnings: Alright folks, I’m going to be very honest with you. This book can get dark and depressing sometimes. Due to it’s unpredictable nature, since it is a work in progress, read at your own discretion, and apply tags as you see them fit. I will be giving warnings at the beginning of chapters that do take it to that level. If you do choose to read and you come across anything that makes you uncomfortable, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I am all ears.

WC: 1.4k

"Did anyone remember to grab joint papers?" Chet asked. "I used my last one outside." A now, shirtless Chet, stood at the top of the stairs. He combed out his hair and was wearing a gold chain. His eyes scanned his rather large living room where his friends had spread out to their comfort. Except not really. Brooke had no problem laying against Xavier's side, his arm in the back of the sofa,while he was having a conversation with Ray.  

Xavier paused his sentence to turn his attention towards Chet who was now at the bottom of the steps. He couldn't help, but to glance over him one good time.. or twice.

"Montana said that she would bring hers if she remembered to, so we're just waiting on her." he spoke. "What's the rush? I'm sure you and Brooke here are high out of the ass."  

"And wouldn't you love to be too?"

"Why is that even a question?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

"Please don't start this." Brooke interjected. "I've dealt with your bromance long enough in high school."

"Seriously." Ray added on. "When are you two not going at each other's throats. And it's always for something stupid. And to top it off you start talking again like it never even happened."

"Total bullshit." Xavier directed towards Ray.

"Yeah what he said." Chet chimed in, lifting Brooke's legs up to sit down. He gently placed them on his lap and smiled at her before throwing his arm around the sofa, just a little higher than Xavier's.  

"You two argue like an old couple. It's kind of cute actually." Brooke spoke again. "Chet you should see your face when X mentions anything about sports."

"Because I know that he's only saying it to make me mad. I've known this kid since we were toddlers and he has never had interest in sports."

"False." Xavier interjected.

"Oh did I mention he thinks aerobics are a type of sport, when it's a type of exercise?"

"You're joking right?" Ray asked Xavier. Xavier stayed silent, avoiding eye contact with every single person in the room. Chet stared him down like a dog with a heavy smirk on his face.

"Go on." Chet said, slapping the back of Xavier's arm.

"Jesus Christ,  he's not joking."

"I hate you. You disgust me. And I hope you choke on the beer you decide to drink tonight." Xavier said to Chet, getting up without warning Brooke who's head was now where he once sat.

"A warning would of been nice."'she mumbled.

"Where are you going?" Chet asked trying to hold back his laugh. He was ignored as Xavier headed for the door, taking out a box cigarettes from his pocket.  

"You done did it now." Ray said to Chet.

"Oh fuck me..." Chet sighed, throwing his head back. "Xavier I didn't-,"

The door was already slammed shut.

"Fuck." Chet quickly got up, again, giving Brooke no warning, hustling out the door behind Xavier. He stood at the bottom of the porch steps, hand in his pocket, puffing on his cigarette. He looked over his shoulder slightly at Chet, who ran his hand through his hair.

"Xavi." he called out.

"You know, Clancy." Xavier spoke. "You don't do well at keeping your mouth shut."

"And neither do you." Chet joined him at the bottom of the steps and the two sat down. Xavier took another pull before passing the cigarette to Chet who gladly accepted. "A little nicotine never hurt anyone right?"

"A little nicotine?" Xavier jokingly asked, looking at Chet and grinning. "I wish, Chet. I've been smoking since I was 12. I'm so fucked up." He sighed, putting his head between his knees.

"Just smoke more weed."

"I can't afford to keep being high all the time."

"Bullshit. You want to be a big time actor. You can more than afford to keep being high all the time."

"Not on set. In a couple years that stuff is going to ruin your memory. I promise."

"You get on my nerves. Always trying to be so good, innocent, and pure. Always trying to spit some words of knowledge."  Chet punched him in the side of the arm. "But if you want to keep that pretty face of yours, you need to stop smoking cigarettes or at least try cutting back."

"This is coming from the guy that's done coke twice now."

"How did this become about me?" The two looked at each other and started laughing. "But, listen. I'm sorry. You told me not to tell anyone about that and I did. You can tell everyone about the time I pissed my pants in public."

"No." Xavier responded, softly. "I'm not going to do that. It's not the worst thing you know about me." Chet had to go way back into the memories he had with Xavier. He had too many. And then he remembered.

"Ooo, yeah. Let's not ever talk about that one."

"Ever."

Chet handed him back his cigarette for him to finish up, but instead of finishing it, he simply flicked it into the grass. Xavier cared about his face too much to finish it. This one at least.  He looked at Chet, who was now staring now at his hands, playing with his finger nails. He admired everything about him. From his hair, to his eyes, to his lips, and everything below. Xavier didn't want to admit this, but he liked Chet. He knew how fragile Chet's masculinity was, so he made sure to never push those buttons when he made his sexual jokes around his friends. A flirt, he was, but Chet made him feel small despite the small height difference.  

"Are we moving the party outside?" a well dressed Montana asked as she stood behind the gate, chewing her gum aggressively.

"It's about time you showed up."  Chet said. "I've been sobering up and I don't like it. Did you bring those papers?"

"Well it's nice to see you too, Chet." she responded, blowing a bubble. She stared her ex up and down. "Xavier."

"Demon that haunts my dreams." Xavier responded, rolling his eyes.

"You miss me."

"I hate you."

"You want to fuck me."

"I want to choke you."

"Are you guys dialogue fucking right now? I can feel the sexual tension in the air." Chet spoke.

"I rather die."  

"That's funny, Xavier. I swear you were moaning my name last week at your party."

"That was you two?!" Chet's jaw dropped. "I was wondering where you went Xavier. Anyone that stood at the bottom of the stairs could hear you guys. See I knew there was still some love there."

"Oh please. I was drunk, high, and horny and so was she. It was a mistake."

"Then why did you kiss me yesterday when I came to give you back your flannel that you haven't stopped bugging me about?"

"Fuck off, Montana." Xavier got up swiftly, eyeing her down.

"Make me."

"Okaaaay. I think I'm gonna go back inside." Chet said, also getting up. "When you two are done lusting, I hope you'll join us and not go fuck in the woods somewhere."

Xavier and Montana stared each other down as Chet made his way back inside and as soon as they heard that door slam they went after each other.

"Why are you such a bitch?" he asked her.

"Ugh. Why are you?" she asked back. "You get fucked up, coming knocking on my door or calling my house. You tell me you love me, fuck me senseless, and then you leave and start acting like this. And I thought I was the moody one in the group."

Xavier hung his head low for the second time tonight, laughing quietly to himself.

"And you're just going to leave out the part where you do the same? Where you show up to my door, crying over me? Where you literally beg me to fuck you all the time and get livid when I say no? Right. Montana, please go fuck yourself."

"You already do that."

"Yeah, not anymore." He turned around to head back in the house.

"You won't last. You miss me too much."

"I'll hope for the day when you're not so full of yourself, sweety."

"Coming from the guy who thinks his face is worth billions of dollars."

"I'm gonna pretend like you didn't just say that. Now come on, let's go inside."

Toxic. But we'll examine that next chapter.

[eerythingisshaka]

Play Though? Pt. 3

[Dad!M’Baku x Black!OC]

Word Count: 4.3K

Remi stands there with her mouth gaped wide open, praying that what she was seeing before her is an illusion, a mirage.

“Daddy!”  Xavier calls out happily running to hug his legs.  

Ron bends down with a fist out.  “Yeah, gimme some bud.”  

Xavier hauls a punch on Ron’s knuckles who feigns injury, shaking his hand.  He adjusts his durag, looking Remi up and down.  “I can’t get no love.”

Remi stutters trying to collect her thoughts.  “I’m wondering why you’re coming over here unannounced, Ron.  You’re supposed to call, what if I wasn’t home?”

He waved her off, walking inside, rubbing his stomach.  “You always home.  You don’t be doing nothin.  That’s why I always liked you, you a Queen.  No wayward ways with you.”

Remi closes her front door rolling her eyes as she heads to the kitchen.  “Well, I ain’t got all night to entertain you, what do you want?”

Ron sits on the couch with a plop as Xavier climbs up beside him, rolling his toy car along his dad’s arms and legs since he has plenty to work with.  Ron wasn’t a small guy, former college athlete but not good enough to go pro.  His caramel skin, unblemished tone is his pride and joy, and Xavier shares that trait.  

“Come on son, gimme some space to talk to your mama.  Remi, look, I didn’t think I needed a invite to see my kid.”

“Are you really here for him?  Cuz my plans involve him as well, which is another reason why you CALL before you come by!”

“I just wanted to check in with you...the shop is just about done with renovations so you oughta be able to get things going again finally.”

Remi nods.  “Ok sure.  Thanks for the update.  You know X has been acting out at his daycare.  They said he’s being aggressive.”

Ron sits up fake boxing at the back of Xaviers’ head.  “That ain’t no problem, he get that from his papa.  Mean he a fighter one day.  There’s money in that.”

Remi screws her face up.  “You don’t think it’s a problem?  Or that he should be told to chill out or ask what the fits are about?  Just let him fight huh?”

“He’s a boy Remi, damn!  I’m glad he got a little tough side in him since he live with you all the time.”

“That’s not my problem either.  My door is wide open for you to see him, take him somewhere or have him around for a few days.  That never changed.”

Ron gives a coy laugh looking at her everywhere but her face.  “You gettin dressed up for somebody?”

Remi looks down at her skin tight jean capris with a peach low cut blouse and wedge shoes, toes freshly done with a candy paint red.  “That’s none of your business either.  But you ought to leave so that I can have my evening I planned with my child.”

Ron rolls his head back letting out a groan.  “You weren’t the only one there to make him Remi, remember that?”  Ron gets up, giving Xavier’s braids a jostle.  

“Don’t be gross.”  Remi scowls, placing her hand on the doorknob.  

Ron walks up to her until he’s just a fleas distance from her body.  “I don’t remember you thinking it was.”

Remi opens the door to let him out.  “Call next time, we’re done here.  Xavier say bye to daddy.”

“Hi Sunny!”  Xavier exclaims heading towards the door as a little girl darts past her.

“Xavi!  I’m back!”  They hug each other’s little self so tightly, she almost warns them not to hurt each other.  

“Who’s this big nigga?”  Ron says squaring his shoulders to make himself appear more threatening.  It was like time stopped when she looked back at the door she still held open to look up and see M’Baku, still holding his hand up mid knock.

“Uh...hello Remi.  I brought the food…”  M’Baku holds up a bag of produce and items for the meal he was ready to prepare for them.  Remi’s heart melts at the sight.

“Ah, that’s real nice of you, I’ll take that fam.”  Ron grabs the bag and hauls it toward the kitchen.

“Ron!  Remi hissed at him.  “M’Baku I’m sorry, he was JUST LEAVING!”  She waves M’Baku inside.

“I didn’t come early did I?”  M’Baku asks softly.  

“No!  Not at all, you’re right on time.  Xavier’s dad just decided to crash unexpectedly but for real, he is gone.”

Ron comes back rubbing his hands together.  “So you got a name blood?”

M’Baku’s eyebrows fly up but he keeps his cool.  “M’Baku.”

Ron look him up and down.  “The hell you call me?  What African voodoo shit he talkin Remi, you got him round my son??”

“We just met Ron!  And that ain’t no concern of yours, I told you to go!”

Ron scoffs ignoring her.  “Look, Imma back back, let y’all have a little dinner or whatever.  But she has a father for her kid, that’s me.  She good, ya heard?”

Remi takes Ron by the arm and leads him outside past M’Baku who waits patiently watching from a distance.  

“Ron, you don’t get to come around here making demands, you left them privileges when you caught feelings for that white girl secretary at your dentist office!”

“It didn’t mean nothing!  What do you expect me to do when you freeze me out like that?”

“Try remembering your son’s birthday and showing up with a gift next time.  But trust you won’t expect nothing from me no damn more.”

“You got the government dipping in my pockets quicker than I can find something to so with it anyway.”

“That’s insurance to make sure you don’t gamble it all away.”

“You just keep that King Kong Bundy ass nigga from my son until I get approval.”

“Suck my ass, Ron!”  Remi exclaims before returning inside to lock the door and take a deep breath of relief.  When she centers her thoughts she sees M’Baku laid on the floor, directing a scene between Xavier’s Venom and Spiderman doll that he and Jolasun are hopping around the floor with a few other toys askew.  

“And Venom says…”

“Will you buy these wonderful roses?  Two blooms for a penny?”  Jolasun says in a sing song tone.

“What about some milk for my goat?”  Xavier asks.

M’Baku whispers.  “The goat makes milk, it does not drink it as an adult.  Try again.”

“Oh uh, what about milk FROM your goat?”  

M’Baku pats him on his back encouragingly.

“I’ll sell you the whole animal for your wagon sir.” Jolasun reaches over for his replica sports car.

“Hmm, that’s a hard deal…”  Xavier thinks carefully.

“You’re teaching economics to my child?”  Remi asks, parking herself behind M’Baku’s back to peer at the scene over his shoulder.  

“We are playing Market.  Mr. Venom and Mr. Spiderman-”

“Mrs., Baba!  Mrs. Spiderman!”

“Of course, love.  Mrs. Spiderman, are trying to work out deals among each other until presumably they have bartered all of their belongings completely.”

“Mama, I can get you a-a-a horse if you want.  You want a horse mama?”  Xavier asks her.

“I think she would look good with one.  What do you think?”  M’Baku looks back at Remi behind him and she feels herself going giddy.

“Why I would love a horse.  Thank you son!”

“Hang on!  I haven’t sold it yet!”  Jolasun exclaims.  “If I can have your rocketship, you can have my horse.”

“Nuh-uh!  You can have my, uh, whistle?”  He picks up an orange whistle he got from one of the dine and play places, blowing it loudly.

Remi covers her ears.  “X  I told you not to blow that in the house!  You guys keep trying to trade that horse, we have some cooking to do.”  Remi pats M’Baku’s arm and instantly regrets it.  The strength underneath tshirt sleeve taunted her, tempted her.  She got up as quickly as she could to make her way to the bag of food M’Baku brought and begins to unpack.

“Uh uh, that is what I am supposed to do.”  M’Baku insists, unacking kale and beets and beans.

Remi looks at him unbelievably.  “But you’re a guest in my house, I should help you with something.”

M’Baku stops, tapping his head with a yam in thought.  “You could actually help with something.  Do you have a bottle of wine, eh?  I forgot mine.”

Remi hops to the fridge excitedly.  “I sure do!  I don’t have any cooking wine though…”

M’Baku grunts.  “First lesson in cooking: don’t use cooking wine to cook with!  The intent is there, but the flavor isn’t,”

Remi nows, peeling the foil wrapper off of the lip.  “I see, noted.”  

M’Baku begins to chop up the kale as you screw the bottle opener into the cork.

“So, did you have a good day today?”  Remi asks nervously.

M’Baku shrugs as he oils a pan on the stove.  “Same old, same old as you say.  Jolasun had a recital at her little school before coming here.  She did a good job.”

Remi’s face lights up in the midst of her struggling to open the bottle.   “Oh that’s great!  Is it like ballet or something?”

“Contemporary.  She loves to dance, and she is very confident about it.  Almost to a fault, but she gets it from her father.”  M’Baku looks back at her smiling.  “Do you need help with that?”

Remi’s veins are damn near popping out of her neck as gives it one more pull before taking a break.  “Dammit, I thought I got a twist top in the first place.”  

Remi sets the bottle down with a plop on the counter as M’Baku meanders around the island to her side, picking up the bottle with the opener still stabbed in the top.  He grips the neck tightly, knuckles show signs of wear but they look beautiful along his skin.  Remi watches carefully as his takes his other hand firmly over the opener itself.  

“I think I got it in too deep.”  Remi says softly before flinching at the pop of air being released from the bottle finally being given the chance to breathe thanks to M’Baku.  Remi clutches at her neck feeling herself breathe as well.

M’Baku sets the bottle back down in front of her.  “It’s never too deep.  You have to be mindful of the technique when pulling out.  Don’t force it, just ease.”

“Mhm!”  Is all Remi could muster as she rests her head on her hand, fighting the open innuendo.   He walked back over to the stove to finish stirring, adding broth.  “A wise man is a rich man, I say.”

M’Baku chuckles, wiping his hands on a towel.  “Then I pray to be a trillionaire with knowledge.”  

Remi gets up with her bottle of wine checking out the cooking situation.  “Ok, tell me when to pour.”

M’Baku wags a finger.  “Not so fast.  I have to know how good your wine is, if it works with the flavors I am trying to execute here.”  

Remi huffs.  “Gosh, so nitpicky.  Aight, let me pour a couple glasses.”  Remi gets one glass poured when Xavier runs into her legs.  

“Mama, mama!  I didn’t get you a horse, cuz Sunny says she needs it to go to the store.”

Remi nods looking over at a proud and chubby faced smiling Jolasun, flying a toy pony in the air.  

“But-but-but she let me have some magic beans and a duck with give money eggs.  That’s cool, huh mama?!”  Xavier holds up the ‘duck’, which is really a Toucan Sam from the cereal box, and ‘beans’ AKA legos.  

“Oh wow!  She did a Jack and the Beanstalk on you!  Have you heard that story yet?”  M’Baku asks jovially as he cuts up some bread.

Xavier shakes his head, braids flying wild against his face.  

M’Baku makes a shocked face before looking at Remi with a sort of playful scowl.  Remi just swirls her wine in her glass, looking around like he was checking for someone else grown and in the house.

Remi shrugs.  “Don’t look at me!  He is into reading chapter books, and if I tried to pull him away from the library he  wouldn’t speak to me for a week.  He’s past Dr. Suess and fairytales by now!”

M’Baku chuckles heartily as he kneels in front of Xavier.  “It’s a story about how some ordinary things can be quite extraordinary.  A poor boy from the country trades his last good livestock for a duck and beans instead of money or food.  Everyone called him a fool but before he knew it, the items he got turned out to be the very things the trader said they were, and he was a rich man for the rest of his life.  You have a good heart Xavier, and if you continue to see the good and potential in others, you could create some awesome magic yourself.”

Remi wasn’t sure if the wine was beginning to hit but her heart felt like it was ready to jump out her chest and slide down the waterfall cascading from between her.  She shouldn’t be this easy but a man tending to a child is her kryptonite and frankly she hasn’t seen it enough to be numb to it.  The last hour he’s been there, he has shown more affection than his own father showed.  

“Mr…..uh…”

“Just call me Baku.”  He says.

“Backoo, are you married?”  

Remi chokes on her sip of wine, threatening her light carpet with dribble.

M’Baku’s eyes widen.  “Why do you ask, Xavier?”

“You can call me X.  Mama does, she’s not married though.”  Xavier says unwarranted.

Remi joins in to keep things from growing more awkward.  “Hey, X!  You should show Jolasun that new toy Grandma got you for your certificate at daycare?  The light up one?”

Xavier’s face lights up as he runs back to Jolasun, demonstratively leading her to his room to retrieve the toy.

Remi leans on the counter watching them run by.  “Oh, to be that young and innocent again.  They are so cute, I could never make friends like X does though.”

M’Baku starts sizzling some asparagus.  “No?”

Remi takes her glass up with longing.  “I was too awkward.  Like X, I hit the books hard and I never wanted to leave the world of fantasy to face a real one.  My mom thought it led me to be more immature and a crybaby.”

M’Baku looks over to Remi.  “Or...it made you more emotionally developed and full of heart.  Too many people think that their worth is in the friends that they have but you can make one or two great connections instead of a hundred shallow ones, you’re really doing something great.”

Remi couldn’t help but smile sadly at that.  Wine made her emotions elevated and what he said hit a strong nerve.  “That’s really profound, Baku.  I appreciate that.  Sometimes I worry my time has been wasted on things because of pressure and just shit that comes up that you least expect and I kick myself about it but...I do have those handful of folks that keep me here for a reason, most recently my son and I wouldn’t trade my journey for him any day.”

M’Baku puts a pan of toasted bread off to one side, holding the countertop with a wide grip and he leans his weight into his sinewy forearms.  “Couldn’t have said it better myself.  I don’t take lightly you having Jolasun and myself over for dinner.  I just hope it isn’t the last.”

Remi thinks to how the evening began with herself anticipating this moment to Ron coming by and completely taking the fun out of the air before it began.  If M’Baku hadn’t been on the other side of that door, she surely would’ve texted to cancel but fate should have it that this strapping, big hearted man in front of her would woo her into a lovely evening of basically babysitting and gossiping in the kitchen.

Remi steps around to  the same side M’Baku is standing at, tracing the hardened caulk between the countertiles.  “I wanted to ask just so it’s clear to me, uh...Are you over here...as a friend?  Because, you know, that’s great, cuz the kids love hanging out and I am cool to play date and yada yada and like I said it’s not like I get out that often anyway: it’s usually work then daycare then home and-”

M’Baku looks on at her in ae as Remi continues to run on sentence speak for an extended period of time, giving no room for him to answer the proposed question.  Then before he could say anything, something pops out of the corner of his eyes.

“Pew! Pew! Pew!  ALIENS ATTACK!”

M’Baku and Remi look over to see their children holding two stuffed animals a piece as weapons.

Remi puts a hand up in protest.  “Wait, we aren’t aliens, I am our mother!”

“And I am your father!”  M’Baku say with an authoritarian tone, before whispering to Remi.  “...this has turned into a Star Wars style thing though, yeah?”

Remi chuckles as Jolasun makes the announcement.  “No, WE are the aliens!”

“Take cover, aliens!”  Xavier shrieks as he and Jolasun barrel roll in front of the couch for shelter.

“When we pop up, have your weapons ready!”  Jolasun instructs.

“What?  What do we do?”  Remi asks, surprising herself that she actually feels somewhat nervous.

M’Baku reaches into one of his grocery sacks and picks up a squash.  “Take this!”  Remi clutches the vegetable to her chest and M’Baku finds a potato.

“That’s all you have left?”  She whispers.

M’Baku looks at her incredulously.  “You’re critiquing my firepower lady?”

“3! 2! 1!”  The children count before popping up and jutting their plushies forward with every imaginary blast.  

POW! BANG!  KAZOWY!  It was a complete a total wreckage of imaginary limbs flying, air support dropping ammunition overhead and reinforcements circling in.

Remi dives behind the counter.  “We are outgunned and outnumbered.  They’ll get us for sure.”

M’Baku taps his forehead with the potato before lighting up with an idea.  “Jola!”

“Yes, Baba?”  Jolasun says casually like they aren’t even at war.

“You know if I am a human and you are an alien, because I am your father, you too are half human?”

A small gasp comes from the other side of the room.

“That means me too?”  Xavier whispers.  

Remi smiles a M’Baku thankfully.  “That’s right, you are fighting your own kind!”

“No!”  Xavier screams.

“You never told me you were half human!”  Jolasun says with venom in her lungs.  What a turn of events.

“I-I….YOU never told ME!”  Xavier rebuts, turning his plushies on Jolasun.

“FIRE!”  They shout, as pew pews hurl at one another.

M’Baku breaths a sigh of relief.  “Thank Hanuman, that was-”  Looking over at Remi all he sees are her shoulder shaking as her hands cover her face.  “Remi, what is wrong?  I didn’t think you would be this into it.”

He takes her hands away and see her face screwed up into an ugly, debilitating laugh.  “I’m sorry, haha!  This was just, WOW!  I haven’t heard this good of a plot to anything in a while.  They turned on each other!”  She guffaws as she clutches her stomach, out of control of her laughter.  M’Baku can’t help but to join in, looking at her as her laughter became contagious.  Snorts and woots are shared between them as their children’s imaginations murder each other.  Before they knew it, the laughter ceased and settle into one another as they realize their hands are still gripping one another’s.  Couple that with some knee to knee touching as they remain sitting on the floor behind the counter, and Remi begins to wonder if the stove is still on.

M’Baku looks at Remi directly, with little space between them, she couldn’t help but feel like she is under a microscope.  

“You have a gorgeous smile...and your laugh…”

Remi snorts again involuntarily.  “I know, it’s a lot.”

“...a joy.  To hear it?  Makes me feel like I did something many wish they could do but never stood a chance.”  His grip becomes more assured.  “And I want to do that again.”

Remi won’t lt her mind stray from the feelings developing between them, though she couldn’t stand them.  Her heart was about to burst out of her throat from all the anticipation!  And luckily she had on granny panties, or her cute ones woulda been soaked through, she was not ready for this.

No way is a friend speaking to her this way, he actually does want her!  But is it too soon?  She did say this wasn’t supposed to be a date, but is a kiss before a date no making this one?  And what about-

M’Baku made her mind hush as needed, soon as his lips touched hers.  It wasn’t rushed, there was no crash, which means they had been inching toward one another without her even realizing.  Damn these pheromones!   Their lips rested into one another, like a long distance love affair finally being consummated at first glance in person.  Her stresses melted away like the butter he cooked with as she parted her mouth slow to allow his tongue to come in…

“Mama?  Where did you go?”  Xavier

“You took her out, remember?  But Baba is so strong I can never get him.  One day…”

The parental ear is still keen even in a primal moment as they part from one another to heed the call.  Popping up from behind the counter, Remi announces,  “Who’s ready to eat?”

“Meee!”  The children sing as they come to sit down at the table.

“Meee too…”  M’Baku says with a frog in his throat, coughing a little.  Remi tries to catch his eye as the gather the assortment of food, but he uses his height to just overlook her, slight sheen to his brow as they set out to have dinner.

---

“Thank you for cooking!”  Xavier says, holding his mother’s hand while twisting his little body around.

“No problem!  I’ll have to make you something more, you cleaned your plate well!”  M’Baku says giving him a high five.  Xavier nods proudly.  

Remi smiles, giving her son a squeeze.  “I haven’t seen him eat that many fresh vegetables since they were mashed and in a jar.  Hey X, go ahead and clean up your toys so we can get ready for bed.”  Xavier flies over to complete the task

“Jola, go ahead and help.”  M’Baku instructs his daughter.

As the kids clean, M’Baku and Remi look at one another, and then away nervously.  

“Well, thank you for dinner.”  Remi says to the floor.

M’Baku puts his hands in his pockets, bending down a little to get in her line of vision.  “No, it was teamwork.”

“Please all I did was provide the kitchen.”  

“...which is all I needed.  You ever tried to cook without a kitchen?  It’s not very easy today.”  M’Baku shakes his head like a curmudgeonly old man.

Remi smiles.  “Kids don’t know how good they have it!”  

M’Baku smiles.  “There it is.”

“What?”  Remi says with confusion.

M’Baku steps toward her, making his posture smaller even though it was impossible.  “Your smile.”

“Oh…”Remi moans with embarrassment.

“It’s good, I can understand if you don’t show it more.  Someone might steal it.”  M’Baku says in a low tone, looking at her again like he did behind the counter.

Remi’s breathing deepened again as that feeling came over her.  If she didn’t know any better, some might believe it to be signs of a heart attack, but no.  Lust just hit her that hard.

“Thanks for the warning.  Maybe-”

“Baba!  I’m done!”  Jolasun says, running up to his side as he picks her up.

“Ok!  Let’s go!  Say bye to X!”

They all say goodbye as they walk out the door, Remi closes it with a forlorn sigh.  Remi puts a chatty Xavier to bed as he recounts the fun times him and Sunny had together.  When he finally drifts off, Remi admires her boy, playing his he braids gently as he snores.  Her mind goes in so many directions as her baby sleeps peacefully:  Ron and their relationship, her job at the shop and eventually opening her own.  Remi rubs her temples at the thought of all she has to consider and what she wishes she could just give up on.  But life doesn’t work that way,  As she went to her room, she thought of M’Baku and how he spoke with her, making her feel like a damn queen when she felt like anything but.  His strong hands and the way they worked around the kitchen, around her hands, and the potential of them working in tandem with the kiss from before.  

Remi lays back in bed alone and wondering if she could rekindle that feeling again.  M’Baku told her that her smile was all he wanted, but she never said what feeling he gave her that she couldn’t get rid of if she tried.  It’s so silly these crushes people get when they aren’t based on anything but hormones and luck.  And Remi has a streak of not being that lucky.  

She reaches for her phone off the charger and opens it to a notification message.  The name she saved it under made her think she was getting hacked but she forgot Babe the Blue Ox was the moniker she bestowed upon him.

She reads the message once, twice, thrice, and couple more times for good measure before she lies back, stretching her limbs with satisfaction and a smile.  It was happening.

Thinking of that smile of yours and hope it’s what you have on before you go to bed.  Let’s plan to see it again soon.  Adults only?

Masterlist

Ragtag

@yaachtynoboat711 @chaneajoyyy @bidibidibombaclaat@sarcastic-sunshines @great-neckpectations @wakanda-inspired @klaine15689  @foulmouthedandfanfic @nickidub718 @supersizemeplz @yofavcocoa @ashanti-notthesinger

[hgihrepaeryster]

“Up” is Relative

Will could vaguely hear everyone around the campfire behind him laughing, undoubtedly laughing at some humorous recollection Blossom was telling about defeating a hideous monster or apprehending a super-criminal. It was an interesting mish-mash of canons and OCs at the campsite: The Powerpuffs themselves along with Jenny, Sheldon, Vega, and even Tootie representing the former; and for the latter, Nick, Shayde, Russell, Roulette, Xavis, Luca, Reita, and the young man that wasn’t sitting around the campfire with everyone else.

They were all so enraptured with each others’ fantastic exploits that no one had noticed Will slipping away a few feet and laying back upon the hill that overlooked the City of Townsville. It was his first time in this area, a universe he’d never seen before, and he was instantly taken by the sprawling urban metropolis. His eyes traced the skyline, trying to remember each and every feature, but there was just so much to look at.

Strange how superheroes always have that one city they need to protect. Jenny has Tremorton, and the Powerpuffs have this place. Gotta admit...it’s always a beautiful city that needs protecting.

He had just spotted a strange observatory in the middle of the city when he started to notice lights flickering out. It started in the suburbs around the edges of the city, but soon there was a wave of blackness that overtook the entire sprawl before him. He heard some commotion behind him as the others took notice.

“Oh, great.” Blossom grumbled.

“What’s happening?” Sheldon asked.

“Probably just Mojo Jojo trying another dastardly plot.” Buttercup snarled. “Time to go to work, sisters.”

“You need any help?” Xavis inquired. “If my tanktop had sleeves, I’d be rolling them up right about now.”

“Nah, I think we’re good.” Bubbles replied, cheerily. “Besides, this might take a while, so you shouldn’t have to wait up for us. Thanks for the offer, though!”

“Let’s roll!” Blossom commanded.

The beams of the three superpowered siblings streaked across Will’s field of vision as they flew toward the city in search of danger to defeat. They were so bright that Will needed to shield his eyes from the sudden intensity. As he lowered his hand, however, the first thing he saw was the field of stars above him.

It took his attention instantly.

“You guys go on ahead,” Jenny insisted to the others as they began to file out. “I’ll clean up our campsite.”

“Thanks, Jen.” Nick smiled in appreciation. “We’ll keep the portal open until everyone is back.”

Jenny nodded before getting herself ready for work. One hand turned into a bucket which immediately filled up with water; inverting it over the flames released a stream which instantly doused the campfire. Shifting both her arms into a broom and dustpan, respectively, she began sweeping up the hot ashes to prepare them for disposal. In order to make sure she got them all, she turned on her thermal vision and scanned the immediate area for embers she may have missed. To her satisfaction, there was none...but she caught a glint of someone’s body heat just over the crest of the hill.

I thought that was everyone. Who else did we bring? Xavis, Shayde...

After she buried the charred remnants of the campfire, she turned her attentions to the unknown individual, slowly and cautiously advancing upon the heat signature until she could finally tell who it was.

“Will!” She exclaimed softly as she knelt down over him from behind his head. 

How could I forget?!  She thought to herself silently. I was the one who invited him here anyway!

Will stirred from his focus upon the sky, realizing Jenny was speaking to him. “What’s up?”

“Since the Powerpuffs left, we’ve all decided to turn in for the night.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Will muttered. “You all go on ahead; I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Everyone else is gone; it’s just the two of us now.”

Will’s heart lept up into his throat. Just...us?

“What were you doing over here, anyway?” Jenny asked. “I thought you wanted to hang out with everyone.”

“Well, yeah, of course!” Will said, somewhat defensively. “And yeah, that’s been great and all, but...I got a little distracted while looking at the skyline.”

“You mean the skyline that’s completely out of view right now?” Jenny noted sarcastically.

“Yeah, that one.” Will added, unaware of the irony in Jenny’s statement.

“I mean,” she clarified with a characteristic giggle, “why are you still here if there is nothing to look at?”

Will snapped his head toward her. “...nothing to look at?” He asked her incredulously. “After the city lights disappeared, there is everything to look at.”

Jenny cocked her head to one side. “Say what, now?”

“Lie down here next to me.” Will asked. “I’ll explain.”

Wait...did I just ask her that?

“Okay.” Jenny responded, still somewhat confused but willing to try it out. Since she was behind him, she decided the best way to go about it was to lay herself in the opposite direction from Will with her head almost right next to his.

“When I was 10,” Will began, “one of my favorite things to do was go stargazing. I would try to memorize all the constellations, watch satellites pass, and even - if I was lucky - see a shooting star go by. If there was ever a night that I was bored, it didn’t take long to cure it if I just brought out a blanket or towel, spread it out on the back lawn, and kept watch on the night sky. That all changed for me when I was 13, though.”

“What happened?”

“I had just taken a science class where we were talking about gravity. Something about that class stuck with me that night, so when I looked up at the sky, I didn’t feel like I was looking up anymore. I felt like I was looking down. The only thing keeping me from floating away forever into space was the gravitational pull of the planet. Think of it like...you spend so much time walking right side up that you lose your sense of perspective on how things really are. In space, 'up’ is relative. Earth is in space. We are on Earth. Therefore, we are in space, too.”

“I...” Jenny slowly replied. “...I can kind of see it. You start to feel like you’re on one of those rides at a fair where they spin you around and then release the lap bar, but the spinning force keeps you in place.”

“Right,” Will nodded, “but on a planetary scale.”

“What happened after that?”

“I was scared.” Will admitted. “I remember gripping the blanket tight, thinking that if I let go I would fall into the sky. I started breathing hard. I almost started to cry. But I shut my eyes and slowly allowed myself to sit up, bringing myself back to the familiar before opening them again.” He sighed. “It was a while before I tried it again, but after the first time the sensation was never quite as bad. The downside was it was replaced by another feeling.”

“What feeling was that?”

Will struggled to find the word he was looking for. “...I don’t want to say loneliness, but...more like insignificance. Such a massive universe and I’m only a small part of it.”

“Will...” Jenny rolled over onto her side so she could look directly at the human next to her.

“And when I saw the sky here,” Will continued, “I realized this is a completely different universe, yet it’s every bit as big. And it’s only one of however many there are that can be accessed in Reaper High, and-”

“Will.” Jenny whispered, placing a hand upon his shoulder.

oh god she is touching me

“You’re not insignificant.” Jenny insisted. “Not to me.”

Will could not bring himself to speak for a few seconds. “...you really think so?”

“I enjoy being around you. You clearly enjoy being around me, otherwise you wouldn’t hang out with us at lunch so much. You can make me laugh just about every day, and when I don’t feel like laughing you’ve been so supportive to me.” She pulled out a concealed drawer in her skirt (Yay, built-in pockets!) and removed a gold, music-note-shaped device. “Then there’s this.”

Will sat up slightly, slightly awe-struck by the sight of his old Musique: the one he gave to her at their second meeting. “You still have that?” He queried. “I figured you would have gone for the new special edition they came out with last week”

Jenny laughed. “First of all, that new one is $12,000; the last time I tried getting one that expensive, it did not end well for me. Second, it - what - has a built in cardiometer? I’m not going to need that unless I start doing this-” Jenny pounded her chest to the rhythm of a heartbeat. “-everywhere I go.” Will grinned and chuckled softly at the mental image of Jenny doing exactly that.

“But, most importantly,” Jenny continued, “is this.”

She turned the device over in her hands and, using a small flashlight from her fingertip, illuminated the name “Will Perringer” across the back.

She noticed that?

“This was personally yours.” Jenny explained. “You could have bought me one or something: I know you’ve been getting stuff for your other friends. But instead you decide to give me this Musique - incredible condition, deluxe edition, gold plating, and personally inscribed with your name, for Pete’s sake - without as much as a second thought. Sometimes, I think about what could make someone do that.”

“Jenny, you saved my life.” Will rationalized it the same way he did when he gave it to her.

“I’ve saved plenty of lives.” Jenny retorted. “But if I’m lucky, I’ll just get a ‘thank you’ out of the mountain climber I just saved from falling to his doom. Not that many have been willing to give something like this up; in fact, I can count them on...well, one finger.” Jenny extended her index finger to prove her point, and then pointed it into Will’s chest.

“You deserve better than that.” Will insisted.

“And you deserve better than to be left alone like this.” Jenny shot back, a bit more insistently than she’d let on before.

A brief pause took over, with only the wind supplying any noise to fill the gap before Jenny sighed.

“I’ve heard things.” Jenny finally said, softly. “Not good things. Things which make me worry about your safety when you’re alone. And I’m not the only one, either; everyone who knows you has had their lives made better because of it.” She gently touched his shoulder again. “I’m not going to force you into making promises, but I’d like you to know you don’t need to run away if you are feeling so small or worthless. You can always talk to me.”

Slowly, her arms wrapped around him as she pulled him in for an embrace.

“It’s what friends do.”

Will could feel the tears start to rise, but held them back as best as he could as he allowed his arms to reciprocate the hug. “Thank you, Jenny.” He whispered, feeling so secure and satisfied in her touch.

It was a while before Jenny loosened her grip. “Let’s head on back. We had a campfire started for a reason, after all; it’s kinda chilly for you to be out here much longer.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Will added, starting to realize he was developing a shiver. Whether that was actually from the temperature or from the adrenaline of ohmygodshejusthuggedmeicandiehappy, he had no idea, but he was definitely looking forward to his warm room as they headed back toward the portal together.

[radi0active-thoughts]

“Explícale”  — a Steve Rogers x reader smut

A/N: Hello guys! It’s been a while, I know *talking like I am the most popular bitch in here* but I’m back! This oneshot is from a writing challenge I applied a few months ago before I went M.I.A. here, due to some college issues. But I can’t remember who made it, so it’s here. It’s my first smut, feedback always appreciated.

Listen to “Explícale”, by Yandel feat. Bad Bunny.

Prompt: Steve and reader have an affair and reader is in a relationship. It was to be just once to never again, but they just couldn’t be apart from eachother. Steve wants to make you official, but you can’t break up with your actual  boyfriend in a simple way.

Warnings: SMUT, cheating (I’m not saying it’s okay, it’s just a plot), angst, fluff.

Hope you like it!

—

“When you’re telling him?” Steve asked when I left the shower covered in one of his thick and white towels. My hair was damp from the steamy shower and I was looking for my clothes.

“Tell what to who?” I asked, not wanting to enter this conversation once again.

“Tell your boyfriend you’re with me.” Steve said while getting up and approaching me. He hugged my body from behind and began to kiss the bruises he left on my neck. The man sure can be my weakness when he wants. “Tell him how I’m the man who makes you shake and sweat and cum, tell him that all the bruises on your skin aren’t from training, but from the nights we have when he thinks you’re finishing reports.”

“I need time, Steve.” I said and he scoffed, turned me around so I could face him and crossing his arms in front of me. “I need time to choose the right words, because I won’t get to Xavier and tell him ‘yo, man, I’m cheating on you with Captain America, and he gives me mindblowing orgasms everytime we fuck, something that you’ve never achieved in two years of relationship’. Do you know how fucked up my situation is?”

“I’ll give you a week.” He stated.

“A week for what, Steve?”

“A week to tell him the truth.” He answered and I sighed, before I began to dress myself in the summer dress and sandals I had on. “Do you know how difficult it is for me to keep you as my dirty little secret, Y/N? It’s been almost six months we’re together, it’s been more than two months I told you I got attached, that I’m in love with you. And it looks like you can’t take it seriously.”

“It was supposed to be a one time thing.” I sighed more to myself than to Steve.

“Six months later and here we are.” He answered and sat on his bed, which was messed up from our earlier activities. “A week, Y/N, and a week only. I have a short mission to attend for a few days and if you don’t tell the truth, I’ll go to your house and I will do it.”

“Steve” I said, not really believing his words. “You wouldn’t.”

“Test me.” He simply said and sighed. “Want me to take you home?”

“Better not.” I answered. “I guess that this week needs to start now, Steve. Good luck on your mission.”

Said that, I took my purse and left his apartment inside the compound, and took the elevator to the garage. The ride would be all silent if it wasn’t for the explosion of thoughts inside my head. I could explain everything to Xavier in the best way possible, right?

I thought so.

A few days later

“What do you think of our dinner, Cariño?” Xavier asked. He had cooked a delicious spaghetti bolognese and chosen a great red wine to match our meal. My brains were banging inside my head and I didn’t even hear his question. “Earth to Y/N, are you still with me, Cariño?”

Xavier would snap his fingers in front of my eyes and laugh his sweet laugh. I smiled weakly.

“Are you okay?” He asked and I sighed.

“Yes, I’m good.” I answered. “I loved our dinner, Xavi, it’s all great, really.”

“Tired from work?” He asked. I took a generous sip of the wine.

“Not just work, I…” I answered. “There’s something else that’s bugging me and I really need to talk to you.”

“What is it, sweetie?” Xavier asked and I could feel worry in his voice.

Explícale lo que sientes, cuando estás desnuda

Dile que solo conmigo, el corazón desnuda

(Explain him what you feel, when you’re naked

Tell him that only with me, your heart is naked)

“It’s just… Xavi…” I gulped hard and took one more sip of the wine. “I think we should break up.”

“What?” He asked confused. “Cariño…”

“Listen to me before telling anything, can I request you this?” I asked and he nodded. I brushed my hands on eachother and began to choose the words to say. “I… I want you to understand that it’s all my fault and you didn’t do anything wrong. I did.”

“And what did you do, Y/N?” He asked.

Dile que ya se acabó

Mi nombre en tu piel se grabó

(Tell him it’s over

My name on your skin was recorded)

Explícale

Que te gusta cómo te lo hago

(...)

Que tú no eres mujer de ser infiel

Pero que te cansaste y no quieres con él

(Explain to him, that you like how I give it to you

(...)

That you're not one for being unfaithful

But you got tired and don't want to be with him)

“I fell in love… for someone else.” I answered after this awkward silence that formed between us and he sighed. “And I wouldn’t like to be more unfaithful to you than I was to you until now.”

“Since when?” Xavier asked, cold, and I broke down, crying.

“Six months ago.” I answered with my voice cracking. “I-it was to be a one time thing, I promised myself it would. But I just couldn’t stay away. It was stronger than me and it was always the last time, but I always broke that promise.”

“Is that Steve guy, isn’t it?” He asked after a more uncomfortable silence and I looked at him. “Don’t look at me that way, Y/N. I know it’s him.”

“H-how…?” I asked.

“One of these days, when you arrived here, I was sleeping.” I nodded. “I was faking it. I heard the motorcycle noise and went to the window to see you arriving. I saw you both kissing passionately and in that moment I was sure I lost you.”

“Xavier, I-” I began but he cut me.

“I’ll be okay, Y/N” He said. “The wine is all yours, but I’m going home now. But thank you for letting me know”

And he left, not before giving my forehead a kiss. And I was looking to nothing and crying until my mind said: “it is something you caused and you can’t go back now”. I looked to the wine bottle and drank that night to oblivion.

Three days later

“Earth to Y/N…” Wanda began. She didn’t go to the short mission due to a broken arm and I was filling a few reports in the compound’s kitchen.

“Sorry, what did you just say?” I asked, averting my attention from the laptop in front of me.

“Passionfruit juice?” She asked once again.

“Yes, please” I answered with a sigh.

“Problems in heaven, I assume.” Wanda left a giggle and handed me the glass filled with juice.

“Nah, just tired.” I answered and took a sip of the sweet juice in the glass.”I need vacation, that I can assure you. It’s been a hell of a week, you know.”

“I can imagine.” She said and the kitchen got noisy when Sam, Nat, Bucky, Peter and T’Challa, with Shuri, arrived.

“Hey everyone” I greeted them with my best smile. “How was the mission?”

“Successful.” Nat answered and gave my cheek a kiss.

“Successful?” Sam asked. “This mission was bomb, we kicked some HYDRA ass!”

“I want action like this again!” Shuri said. “It was fun!”

“I would let you if you trained harder.” T’Challa said and I laughed just because I could see Shuri’s eyes rolling.

“What you’re doing, Doll?” Bucky asked when he approached me.

“I’m finishing a few reports, that’s all Buck.” I answered with a weak smile. “Where’s Steve? I need to talk to him.”

“He went directly to his room.” Bucky answered. “But not the Brooklyn one, the one in here.”

“The hell with these reports.” I mumbled to myself after I realised that Steve was occupying my mind in the last few minutes. I closed my laptop, put it in my bag, finished the juice and made my way to the elevators, so I could find Steve in his room, but not before hearing the people’s chat in the kitchen:

‘What’s gotten into her?’ Sam asked.

‘I don’t know.’ T’Challa answered. ‘For the look in her face I can tell she’s tired.’

‘I thought the same.’ Bucky commented.

‘Oh guys, it sure is about her affair with Steve.’ Shuri said.

‘How do you know that, Shuri?’ Nat asked.

‘The acoustic in Steve’s room need to be improved.’ Shuri answered.

‘But isn’t she dating that Xavier guy?’ Peter asked confused.

‘They broke up a few days ago’ Wanda answered. ‘What? I couldn’t help reading her mind, I was curious.’

Once again, a week later, the silence inside the elevator was uncomfortable. The door opened and I found Steve. He was in front of me, wearing grey sweatpants and a tanktop.

“Y/N?” He asked.

“Hey.” I said. “I was about to talk to you.”

“Go ahead, talk.” He said.

“It was painful and gave me the worst hangover in my entire life” I began. “But Xavier and I… we broke up.”

Steve was silent and I tried to read his face, but I couldn’t. “Enough said.”

Steve pulled me from the elevator and my body collided in the next wall it found. He caressed my lips with one of his thumbs.

“You have no idea of how much I waited for you to say that.” He whispered and we began to kiss passionately. I moaned for the intensity of his lips on mine and realised how I missed it. “Come, babygirl.”

Steve pulled me to his room and, even before I could put my bag somewhere, my back collided with the door and his lips went to my neck, licking, niping, kissing, biting.

“How much do you love this shirt?” He whispered on my neck.

“On a 0-10 scale?” I whispered back. “Four.”

Soon, his hands went to the collar of my shirt and ripped it to the end, the buttons flying across the room. He smirked. “All lace for me, baby?”

“Always.” I answered when he began to kiss my boobs.

“Good.” He said and ripped the bra in half.

“Steve…” I groaned. “This was a new pair.”

“I’ll buy you another, woman.” He said and went down kissing my belly and taking my skirt off. Once again, he ripped the royal blue lace with no effort and threw the piece back. “How I missed this pussy, goddamnit.”

“Language, Captain.” I said with a laugh and he looked at me through his long lashes. With eyes dark and reflecting pure lust, Steve began to work on my pussy.

My back would arch and the moans would leave my lips with no effort. My hands went for his hair and he lifted one of my legs and went deeper on my pussy, thrusting two fingers inside me and making me see stars. For the lack of touch, his touch, I was already a quivering mess.

“Steve.” I moaned. “God, Steve, I’m coming… ah!”

My legs shook harder and I felt my release on my thighs. Steve got up and I could feel my taste on his mouth when he kissed me. My hands began to work on his pants and I immediately took it off of him, with his boxers. His dick slapped on his stomach and I began to massage it.

La cama empieza tendida, y quedará desnuda

Cómo te tiemblan las piernas

Y cómo el cuerpo te suda

(The bed starts off made and ends up barren

How your legs quiver and your body sweats)

“Not now, babygirl.” He said and made me jump to his arms. We began to kiss passionately once again. “I missed your pussy so bad to wait for it.”

Steve sat on the bed with me on his lap. He grabbed his dick and rubbed it against my folds and I lowered myself slowly on his dick, feeling every inch of him inside me. A loud moan left my lips and my arms were around his neck. He sighed a moan.

“Ride me like the good girl you are.” He said and I didn’t need to be told twice. I began to move slowly and I could feel it all perfectly. He grunted “Oh shit, this pretty pussy. How I missed this pretty pussy around me.”

“I fucking missed you, Steve.” I whispered on his ear and he held my hips, controlling my pace. I was a moaning mess under his touch and managed to turn us both around; now my back was on the soft mattress and he was above me, thrusting into me in a rough and slow pace. My legs went around his hips and he thrusted harder as I scratched his back and he bruised my neck.

“You. have. no. idea. of. how. I. missed. you.” He said between thrusts. My moaning was covered by our heated kisses. “And. now. you. are. all. mine.”

“All yours, Stev‒ fuck!” I moaned and his thrusts began to get sloppy. “Steve, I’m damn close… oh!”

“Right behind you, babygirl… God, Y/N‒ shit!” We reached our releases and fell tired, sweaty and messy on the mattress. Our limbs tangled into eachother and there we stayed, caressing eachother’s skin, hearing eachother’s breathing and kissing calmly and passionately.

“What now?” I asked and Steve sighed.

“What now?” He asked and I nodded on his chest. “Now we’re official, I guess. If it’s that what you want, because I want it so bad.”

“I want it, Steve.” I said and looked at him. He smiled and his smile made me smile back.

“Now, you take that vacation and we go anywhere in the world you want, how does this sound?”

“Great.” I answered and kissed him. “But for now…”

“Now?” He asked and I nodded. He pulled my leg, making me straddle him. “You didn’t think I was through with you,  did you?”

Yo no soy Carlos Vives

Pero quiero que te montes en mi bicicleta

Le damo’ la vuelta al planeta

Dime en qué país quieres que te lo meta

(...) conmigo te sientes completa

Yo sí te hago venir hasta que el totito se te aprieta

(I may not be Carlos Vives

But I want you to ride my bicycle

We'll take a trip around the planet

Tell me in which country you want me to put it in you

(...)with me you feel whole

That I make you come until your lil' pussy squeezes tight)

A few minutes later

Sam and Bucky went to the floor of the rooms and while talking and walking, they could hear both of yours and Steve’s grunts and moans. Bucky, due to his supersoldier hearing, could even hear the bed cracking.

“Holy shit.” Sam said and Bucky laughed. Shuri passed through the hall and heard the noises.

“I told you.” She said while walking away. “The acoustic of the rooms need to be improved.”

[doux-amer]

Posted this on Facebook and copying and pasting it here, incorrect all-lower punctuation and all, so it’s easier for me to find it and because I need everyone, football fans and non-football people alike, to understand why this man is so special BECAUSE HE’S SO SPECIAL even though a bunch of you, especially the CLFers, know how much he means to me personally:

this is going to be long because this is something that means a lot to me and something that i'm emotional about (breaking news: i get sad sometimes). ever since iniesta announced that he would be leaving the club at the end of the season, i've struggled to come to terms with the news. i wondered why i wasn't more upset, but it was because i didn't want to think about it and because it was unfathomable. xavi and iniesta embodied barça's DNA. they ARE barça. both exemplify the best of what barça has to offer. they're la masia graduates. they're midfielders. they're visionaries and artists. they were the reason why i fell in love with la roja a decade ago and why there wasn't any choice in what club i picked (as the saying goes, the club picks you). no other players have fundamentally shifted my understanding of the game more than these two, and i'd argue that no two players have shifted the game as drastically as them over the past decade.

i say these two because they were a package deal (and they knew it too. one of my favorite stories about them is that they switched numbers; iniesta took #8 for barça and #6 for spain, and xavi was #6 for barça and #8 for spain). they were the textbook definition of drift compatibility. they were soulmates, one soul living in two bodies; there's that famous moment of them gesturing to each other wordlessly and somehow understanding exactly what the other person was thinking because they not only never needed words to communicate, but it was also as though they had a psychic bond and as soon as one person thought something, that person immediately did too as though they were the one who thought it. it's why when xavi left, i was devastated and it was strange to see iniesta holding up the copa del rey trophy alone a few weeks ago. now the moment i've been dreading for years has finally come: xavi and iniesta are both gone even though they were supposed to be here forever.

words can't describe what iniesta means to me. if you're a fan of barça or football, you know his genius, but if you're not, it's difficult to describe how uniquely and preternaturally gifted "el ilusionista" is. all that comes to mind is what pep said to xavi on iniesta's first day training with the first team: "you're going to retire me. this kid is going to retire us all." i can think of no better quote to describe the special bond connecting those three, the change of guard from one generation to the next, and the enormity of iniesta's talent than that quote.

but if you don't know much about football or about iniesta (and you can be forgiven for that because for a long time, iniesta flew under the radar and even now, he doesn't possess the celebrity his more starlike companions enjoy), then this might give you a better example of his importance: iniesta scored the goal that won spain its first world cup. he's dearly loved across spain for that—but not only because of that. he's loved because of his compassion, humility, and generosity. everyone remembers him for what happened after. the ball went in and then he tore across the pitch, stripping off his jersey to show the shirt underneath to the millions watching across the world. it read "dani jarque siempre con nosotros." it was a tribute to his friend who passed away suddenly at the same age i am now. dani was the captain of espanyol, barça's despised rival across town. there's no other club cules hate more than espanyol except maybe real madrid, and the animosity is a two-way street, but iniesta didn't give a damn about that. he dedicated his world cup goal to his friend when that moment could have been about him and no one would have begrudged him for that especially considering his struggles during the months leading up to the world cup due to his injuries and his grief over dani's passing.

and that's what made him so special. he's still that shy, quiet, tiny (and pale, but he demonstrated that he can, in fact, get a bit of color and ACTUALLY TAN, the one thing i thought was impossible for him to do) 12-year-old kid who arrived at la masia 22 years ago. the only difference is that he went from being a tearfully homesick kid who awakened everyone's protective streak to becoming a leader, though i'm sure victor valdes is out there somewhere, still ready to fight anyone who so much as looks at iniesta the wrong way. totally relatable because as i've said for years, iniesta is the one footballer i will fight to defend; you so much as say the slightest critical thing about him, and i will punch you because he's an angel and how DARE anyone say anything bad about him or worse, upset him.

i don't have to worry about that, though, because the whole world loves him and no one has a bad thing to say about him. he's that rare breed of class and humility. he doesn't pick fights, act self-pitying and dramatic, or play dirty. he's hard-working, selfless, and generous. everything he does is in service to the team—and off the pitch, to the fans, his family, and the world. he's also gentle and kind to a fault; back when he became captain after xavi left, people worried that iniesta wouldn't be able to be a leader, even fans who loved him. they thought he'd be an uncharismatic pushover, but he showed that you don't have to be loud or forceful to lead. everyone deferred to him because of their admiration for him as a person, and he led with calm, gentle firmness, always stepping in to defuse situations, to encourage and support his teammates, and to protect his teammates and friends when they needed defending.

that's why he's not just my favorite player tied with xavi. he's my role model and has been for the past decade, and that's what makes him so much more special than all the other players i love dearly. he means so much to me as both a player and as a person, and he's a shining example of what people should strive to be. at the end of the day, the most important thing is that you're a good person and that's exactly who he is and tries to be. okay, i'm getting really emotional right now and am on the verge of getting as tearful as i was watching his last match yesterday (i'm definitely going to even more of a mess when i watch iniesta's press conference and farewell ceremony (I STILL HAVEN'T SEEN EITHER OF THEM BECAUSE IT'LL HURT TOO MUCH)). i got misty-eyed when i saw iniesta handing the captain's armband to messi and realized i'd never see one of the best partnerships football has ever seen ever again, and then i cried (DON'T EVER MENTION THIS TO MY FACE) when i saw him crying on the bench as a stadium of 80,000 chanted his name and heard the announcers saying that the four captains of the pep era and the true barça captains of my heart—puyol, valdes, xavi, and iniesta—are now gone.

it's the end of an era even though i know iniesta's one true love is barça forever and always (this is the man whose house was decked out completely in barça colors; google it because it's wild), and i know he'll be back soon. i'm just thankful that i was incredibly lucky enough to get a front-row (or second-row?) seat and watch him from only several feet away at camp nou twice. it was a dream come true to see him play in person. i'll never forget how indescribably magical those moments were, just as this past decade following him was. ❤️💙 

[from-red-string]

Maybe, we could’ve had that

Day 2 - Ghosts

Happy halloween week! 

That’s truly amazing, I love this. This is my first officially co-writing fic, bless Miranda @lunambar for being so open to all the changes I bursted out of nowhere haha. For you, a little text:

We live in different time zones and speak different languages, our contries are very distinct fom each other but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m always here for you, how maybe not physically but I’m on your side whenever. I love you, M💛

And for you, I hope you enjoy our fic! 

Ámbar is bored, she can't believe she spent her Halloween night with the two dorks, by the bright side Simón is also there so this night it's not a total waste. Anyway, Halloween might is never boring, she waits all year for that, it can't be blank because Nina didn't want to go to the Halloween party, Ámbar would make it remarkable somehow.  

"Luna, why do you need to go home now?" Ámbar asks watching the small kids running around, she eyed Luna. "Are you scared of being out after 10 PM on Halloween?" She smirks, Luna shook her head.  

"No," Luna is scared of being outside late night. Her nightmares are already enough to get her scared, of course, she wants to be home before it's late. "I'm just tired." Luna pauses looking to her friends, they clearly don't believe her.  

"It's okay, Luna." Simón says, then turning to Ámbar whispers. "Bonita, we can leave Luna and Nina and go somewhere else." Ámbar bits her bottom lip but she isn't ready to give Nina and Luna a break, not after making her night so boring.  

"We can get home alone, I don't want to bother." Nina clarifies making Luna wide her eyes, shocked. Ámbar watches the kids again, noticing every kid avoiding a certain old house. This is about to get interesting.  

"No way, Nina." Ambar fakes a smile, Simón frowns at her. "We just need to make a small stop."  

"A stop?" Luna questions tilting her head, while Nina realizes the danger in the question before it escaped Luna's mouth. "Where?"  

"There." Ámbar points to the old house that seemed even darker than two seconds before, two girls ran through the gate screaming as if they are being hunted by a zombie version of Sesame Street.  

"No." Luna squeals in fear, being the small one she could only imagine she is the first to be caught by whatever was waiting there.  

"What are you afraid of? Do you expect to grumpy ghost to come get you?" Ámbar mocks, earning a hard look from Simón.  

"You don't need to do that." Simón voices trying to make Luna calmer, Ámbar rolls her eyes.  

"There's nothing to be scared of. Ghost doesn't exist, physics already explained death is death and dot." Nina vows with a sure in her tone, there's finally some way of proving Ámbar wrong. "Must be people who enjoy scaring others on Halloween, nothing to be scared of."  

"Come on, Lunita." Ámbar insists. "Just a little fun tonight. We get candies and run home like you want."  

"Okay." Luna gives in, annoyed with the situation so they crossed the street reaching the gate. "Do you at least know who lives here?" That ask gets Ámbar thinking that she actually didn't know who live there, she never truly noticed that house before, it looks so old, grey and weirdly familiar.  

"Yeah, an old couple." Ámbar lies, trying to remember any time she saw someone in the house, Simón takes her hand in his. He knocks on the front door and it opened. Luna jumps entangling her arm to Nina who just frowns.  

"It's open." A male voice says Luna stepped inside, pulling Nina and Ámbar started laughing.  

"That's the lamest thing ever." Ámbar grins walking through the door. The dim light that had in the room went completely dark when the front door closed, making the four turn their back to each other forming a circle.  

"Lame?" Another male voice growls, Ámbar starts to shake her whole body, shutting her eyes.  

"No no no." She murmured, scaring the girls and Simón who paced closer to her. "It's not real."  

"Ámbar?" Simón called standing in front of her with his hands on her shoulder.  

"Ámbar?" The male voice tests the name, rolling out of his tongue. "What a small world." Ámbar shivered feeling the voice closer. Suddenly, a candle lighted up in a corner then three more and behind the lights two guys.  

"Gastón?" Nina yelped shook and amaze rushing through her body, she can't believe she is seeing him again at the same time she wants to believe it.  

"No!" Ámbar screams scaring Simón who can't understand her sudden change. In a second she was making them go into the house, in the next, she is pale and shaking in fear.  

"What's wrong, Ámbar? Don’t want to see us?" The guy with curls in his head asked moving closer. Simón switches standing behind Ámbar watching the guy who looked too bright to be human, his image quivering the whole time as if she would disappear in a blink of an eye. The guy also watched him. "I don't know you. I'm Matteo, Ámbar's ex." Simón felt a bit threatened.  

"I'm Simón, Ámbar's - " Simón started just to realize he doesn't have a word, Luna saved him.  

"I never heard of you before. Are you sure you dated that Ámbar?"  

"Until the day I died, I dated that Ámbar," Matteo answers waiting for the brunette to realize what he said. "But she didn't need a day to forgot me." He eyed the blondie with pain in his eyes.

"You are dead? Wait, dead dead?" Luna repeats shocked. "You're a ghost." She states while Matteo watched her green eyes getting brighter. "I can believe you're a ghost. You look too good for this." Matteo tilts his head and she keeps babbling. "I mean, you look good for a dead person. Also, for a living person." Matteo smirks down her.  

"Nina!" Gastón recalls loud, making Nina jump noticing him by her side. Gastón was trying to remember her name the whole time, but a dead person's memory is a tricky land to search facts. Luna's eyes widen analyzing the whole scene, she lifted her hand up.  

"You all know each other," Luna exclaims excitedly. Ámbar shakes her head heavily. "Simón," Luna called. "How do you know them?"  

"I don't-" Simón is clearly weirded out by everything happening.  

"I'm out." Ámbar hisses shifting and finally eyeing Matteo and Gastón, her eyes wet. "I can't." She running through the door and Simón follows her. Both ghosts stand in front of the door looking at the couple, their faces showing disappointment.

"She definitely doesn't want to see us." Matteo announces forgetting about the girls behind them for a second.

"Maybe she's not ready yet." Gastón guesses. "She turned her back on death, that's her way of dealing with it."

"Ámbar hadn't ignore it, she listened what everyone heard and tried to keep going." Nina declares getting the boys attention so she asks what really was stuck in her mind. "You've died, I know you did. How? What? You shouldn't be here."  

"Nina, it's Halloween. The night when ghosts, wizards, and whatever creature is free." Matteo chuckled. "There is no explanation, by the morning we're 'dead' again and you can't see us again."  

"Now another question. You are dead but what happened? You lived in this house?" Luna asks sitting on the floor, she felt calm to see that ghost aren't those horror movies creatures, horrific things starving for revenge.  

“We were killed in this house,” Gaston says, looking straight at Nina with dark eyes. “A year ago at a party here. We were killed by Xavi, your ex. He felt threatened by us. So when we were wasted, he used his father’s stolen gun and shot us in a bathroom upstairs,"  

By the time he finishes, Nina and Luna are both huddled next to each other, keeping their breaths held in. "Xavi?” Nina asks. “I mean I knew he was crazy, that’s why I dumped him but I didn’t think psychotically crazy."  

"Well, believe me. He was,” says Gaston. “From what little we saw of the crime scene investigation, they didn’t want such a terrible story going around own. So they covered up how we actually died by saying it was from alcohol poisoning or some stupid shit like that,” Matteo says. He’s been looking at Luna the entire time. His eyes never leave her face, staring deeply into hers with such intensity. While Luna only stares back at him as well, curiosity taking over her brain of the strange ghost boy who seems to attractive for his own good.  

“I can’t believe it, that’s the craziest thing ever. Did they ever put Xavi in jail? Gosh, I hope they did,” Nina babbles. “No,” Matteo continues. “He escaped Buenos Aires without a trace. They had been undercover searching for him, but he hadn’t been under their radar. That’s all I know of it,"  

"This is all too much for me. First, I see ghosts then I find out they were brutally murdered by my best friend’s ex. I need a juice right now,” Luna says while rubbing her temples with shut eyes. Matteo chuckles. “Well, there’s nothing more you can do about it. What’s done is done,” he says sympathetically.  

Nina looks down in her lap sadly, playing with the hem of her skirt. Gaston floats slowly over to her in an attempt to comfort her. With enough concentration, he takes his hand and concentrates it on making it solid. When it forms, he rests it on the girl’s knee making her yelp and jumps back several feet.  

“You-you just touched me!” Nina quavers. Gaston tries calming her down. “I know, yes. We can do that. But only for a short period time and with enough human presence and concentration,” he explains. Nina seems to calm down a bit but still looks at him anxiously. She holds her hand out and shakily touches her finger to his palm, amazed by the solidity of a dead person. He grabs her hand completely with his and holds it, making her blush furiously.  

Matteo floats closer to Luna, making her lift her eyelids up. The butterfly motion, batting her long eyelashes and looking at him with her piercing green eyes, making him lose everything inside himself. It was completely wrong of him to feel anything since he’s dead after all. It would only be a matter of minutes until he disappears for god knows how long it felt like.  

He concentrates on making his hand solid. Her eyes light up when shes the transformation right in front of her. He brings it to her cheek, caressing her jaw oh so delicately. She just sits completely still, following the motions with only her eyes. “You know Luna,” he begins. “Either if I had known you when I was still alive or if I were still alive right now, I think there could’ve been something between us,” he whispers. Her lips curve into a soft smile, staring at the hand in her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. “Maybe,” is all she says. “Maybe, we could’ve had that."  

They turn when they hear a gasp coming from the girl next to them. She has her phone out looking at the time. Luna peers over her shoulder to read it. 11:55. Had it really been that long they thought?  

"So we’re gone in five minutes?” Gaston asks with a croaking pain in his voice. Matteo looks at Luna sympathetically, taking his hand from off of her cheek and entwining it with hers.  

Nina gets a panicking feeling in he chest. Since they had come here and discovered the two boys here, she knew she had to let Gaston know the truth before it was too late. So she let her mouth run the words before her brain could think. “Gaston, before you go, you have to know this. For the longest time, I was deeply and incredibly in love with you. I wouldn’t dare say this to you if you were alive which is why I’m saying it know. I was never brave enough to ever talk to you then, I never had the nerve. Just know that whenever you did try and talk to me, I never avoided it on purpose. I was scared. And now I’m losing you all over again when you weren’t even mine in the first place.” She’s crying by the time she finishes

Gaston is too stunned by her words to notice that his body is slowly dissolving into thin air. He gets out a few final words for her. “Nina, I liked you a lot too. You just never gave me the chance to show it before. But I understand why. I think about you still when I’m not on earth. And I promise that you’ll still be on my mind when I’m gone. Just know that I feel the same. And I wouldn’t forget you.” It’s too late for him to solidify himself anymore at this point to touch her one last time. He is more and more transparent.  

Matteo still hasn’t disappeared yet either, still remaining intact. Luna gets a worried face. “You’re leaving now?” she chokes. Matteo so desperately wants to hug her and protect her with immense warmth. But of course he can’t, even a copious amount of concentration wouldn’t be enough for a full body solidification.  

By surprise, he uses up the last bit of it as possible to form his lips. He leans over and presses his lips to hers. He pulls away almost immediately. Time is up now. He begins growing more transparent, but he says his final words to Luna. “We’ll meet again soon. In a dream or another life. But you’ll be there. I’ll make sure of it.” Luna cracks a small smile, his reflecting hers. The two girls wave together as the clock strikes midnight on the phone. The two boys disintegrate into the air. And they are left by themselves in the emptiness of the old home.  

They get up, moping and hobble over down the steps, walking back toward the house. “Nina, is it true? Do you really think we’ll see them again somehow?” she asks her best friend. “I don’t know,” she answers back. “Maybe somehow, some way. But there could be a way. Just not today.” Nina poetically responds. And the two of them step back into the house where Ambar and Simon anxiously waiting for them on the couch.

"Not a word about that house." Ámbar specifies seriously. "Forget about it." She turned her to them and climbed the stairs with Simón. The girls sighs looking at each other, they didn't need to say a word to know that none of them could ever forget what happened. It's impossible.

[thisdaynews]

Barcelona: Why Quique Setien was appointed and why Xavi said no

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/barcelona-why-quique-setien-was-appointed-and-why-xavi-said-no/

Barcelona: Why Quique Setien was appointed and why Xavi said no

After weeks of whispers, clandestine meetings with club legends, rumours of dressing-room discontent and general tittle-tattle, Ernesto Valverde became only the second manager in Barcelona’s history to be sacked mid-season when the club announced he was to be replaced by Quique Setien.

Valverde had just witnessed Barcelona’s best performance of the season against Atletico Madrid in the semi-finals of the Spanish Super Cup (75 minutes of excellent football that ended up in defeat), had the club top of La Liga, unbeaten in the league since 2 November and in the last 16 of the Champions League, having finished top of a group that included Borussia Dortmund and Inter Milan.

On the face of it, it might seem a bizarrely-timed decision. But this is Barcelona we are talking about.

Why this came as a surprise to no-one – Valverde included

For some time now, the 55-year-old Valverde has been spoken to by the movers and shakers at the club over matters that have been concerning them regarding the team’s form.

Many feel the side is going backwards, there are doubts being expressed about the physical preparation of the players and the substitutions during games, rumours of a charged atmosphere in the dressing room are rife and there seems to be a lethargy, complacency and general malaise about the place.

That is how it is explained from the club, who keep pointing to the painful Champions League surrenders of the past two seasons – against Roma and Liverpool – as proof Valverde could not take the team to the next level.

There is of course another side to the story. Valverde had to start his time at the Nou Camp by managing the departure of Neymar.

“The Brazilian is about to leave,” star player Lionel Messi told him during his first pre-season, the first news he had heard of what was going to be confirmed weeks later.

That season he ended up with a league and cup double. There was a second league title but Valverde could only work with the cards he had been dealt.

He inherited a changing room whose main characters are over 30, which is used to doing things its own way, that does not like to be challenged, had signings that did not work (Philippe Coutinho because of his personality, Ousmane Dembele because of his physique, Arthur because of his lack of focus) and a chairman who kept sacking directors of football without a clear idea of where to go.

The surprise perhaps is not that it has happened, but that is has taken so long to come to fruition.

So who was in contention for the job?

Valverde signed a contract extension until 2021 in February, apparently to quash rumours about his impending departure.

There was enough evidence in place even after the club’s 3-0 victory over Liverpool – never mind the capitulation at Anfield that followed soon after – to suggest there was a worrying lack of dynamism, defensive structure, discipline and basic energy required to go toe to toe with a side like Jurgen Klopp’s.

Despite the defeat in the cup final against Valencia and the desire of many within the club to part company with the manager, both parties decided to go on one more season.

But as far back as the beginning of November, just after they had lost 3-1 to Levante, the club approached former player Thierry Henry, only to be informed he had already signed a deal to join Montreal Impact. The Frenchman was told Valverde’s days were numbered.

When they went to meet club legend Xavi last Friday in Qatar, where he is manager of Al Sadd, they announced they were going to watch Dembele, who also just happened to be recovering from injury in the country.

Xavi has been in charge of Qatari side Al Sadd since May

But the meeting took place the day after the Spanish Super Cup defeat by Atletico and, despite the doubts for months about Valverde, there was a look of political improvisation about the encounter between Xavi and the club (chief executive Oscar Grau and sporting director Eric Abidal).

It brought to mind what took place when the club tried to make the right noises and look as interested as they could in re-signing Neymar from PSG without actually doing so. Or wanting to do so.

Xavi struggled with his decision because the club he loves approached him but he was not convinced himself of exactly what they wanted.

Two things eventually led to him turning down the offer: the unstable situation at the club with presidential elections in 2021 and the arrival into the scenario of a presidential candidate called Victor Font, who has already declared that if he wins he would make Xavi the new club coach.

Many believe it is actually the other way around, with Xavi deciding that new blood like Font and a new regime might be needed in the boardroom at the Nou Camp.

Also Xavi needed time to think. He believed next summer could have been his moment if Barcelona had given him total control over football matters, and he was planning to bring in top people he trusts.

Not any more it seems; for now that ship has sailed, with the announcement from the club that Setien has signed until 2022. Any suspicions that ‘negotiations’ with the former Barcelona legend had been nothing more than political expediency now seem likelier than ever to have some truth to them.

Before Setien’s signing another former Barca player, the ex-Everton manager Ronald Koeman, also turned down their offer to take the job until the end of the season. And they also approached Mauricio Pochettino, recently sacked by Tottenham.

Ramon Planes – who used to work at Pochettino’s former club Espanyol and now is part of Barcelona’s technical department – and club president Josep Maria Bartomeu are both close friends of Pochettino and in constant contact.

For them to approach the available Argentine coach, it was probably because they thought they had half a chance of him saying yes.

Unfortunately, probably because of his long history with Espanyol, Pochettino has an entire back catalogue of statements he has made proclaiming why he would never take the Barcelona job and the likelihood of him doing so will always be remote.

That said, being seen as a suitable candidate for such a prestigious appointment certainly isn’t going to do him any harm in his quest to eventually take charge at one of Europe’s top clubs, something he will undoubtedly do at some time in the near future.

What will Setien bring to the Barcelona table?

Setien (right) had been Betis manager since 2017 and led them to sixth and 10th-place finishes in La Liga

Where Setien is a perfect fit is in his unquestioned zeal alongside coaches like Pep Guardiola and Oscar Garcia, currently at Celta Vigo, for the Johan Cruyff possession game, much loved and oft-perfected in the past by Barcelona.

On taking the Betis job, Setien revealed in an interview with El Periodico that despite his love for football he didn’t really understand it “until I saw the football of Johan Cruyff”.

“It was with coaches like him when I began to get it,” he continued. “When to touch the ball, to pass, the spaces… this is what I try to communicate to the players, to keep the ball and to run as little as possible after it.”

He added he would have had his little finger cut off to be given the chance to play for one of Cruyff’s sides, “not because I wanted to be a Barcelona footballer, but rather because of the way they played because I could see just how much the footballers were enjoying themselves”.

His teams in the lower leagues were often referred to as the Barcelona of those divisions. It takes a while to convince the players and even more the fans, and he never completely managed the audience at Betis where, in truth, he never really had the depth of talent that he could trust in to carry out his plans to maximum effect.

Barcelona should prove an easier sell.

On the minus side he is already 61 years old and lacks extensive top-flight experience with Betis being, until now, by some distance the biggest managerial job he has held. But he is not after a career, he just wants to see if he can get his approach, so familiar to the club, to work.

But it isn’t in the passing aspect of the game where he could potentially be let down but rather in the work rate of the players without the ball, which is precisely where Valverde was hung out to dry by some of his team.

This side has the look and feel of the dressing room at the end of the Frank Rijkaard era, when I remember the likes of Xavi and Andres Iniesta telling me they were losing their love for the game. Drastic measures had to be taken by Pep Guardiola in order to go on to achieve what he later did.

Will Setien have the same passion and desire and be able to do what Valverde decided not to do, namely change the culture and dynamic of the dressing room? Will he be able to do what Guardiola did? It will be easier said than done.

Guillem Balague is writing a regular column throughout the season and also appearing every Thursday on BBC Radio 5 Live’s Football Daily podcast, when the focus will be on European football.

You can download the latest Football Daily podcasthere.

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[topmixtrends]

AT FIRST GLANCE, the streets in my Barcelona neighborhood have nothing literary about them. There are no plaques dedicated to the writers who once lived there, no sandwich boards with witty puns in chalk, no bookshops selling the very books that were written just down the street.

So it’s no surprise that, until someone pointed it out to me, I had no idea I was living in Gabriel García Márquez’s apartment.

I wasn’t the only clueless resident. When I probed into the history of my apartment, going straight to the building’s concierge, who had worked there for 20 years, she laughed. “It wasn’t until he died that I knew myself,” she said.

In 2014, after García Márquez’s death in faraway Mexico City, she was bombarded by journalists who showed up at the building’s entrance. Shocked by the unusual commotion in a quiet neighborhood far from the city center, they asked her if they could come up to the apartment where Gabo, as he was known among his friends, once lived.

“At first I told them, ‘You must have the wrong place,’” she said. “I had never heard of García Márquez ever having lived here. When I asked the residents, none of them had any idea.”

I found out García Márquez lived in my apartment with his wife and two sons for a little over a year, from late 1967 to early 1969. Despite having recently published One Hundred Years of Solitude in South America, he had not yet reached celebrity status in Spain — so for the year-and-some-months in my neighborhood, he was able to go about his life and keep a low profile. Yet a look into the seven years he spent in Barcelona — he later moved to a bigger apartment in another neighborhood — opened up another story of the time when Latin American authors filled Barcelona’s streets, inspiring each other’s writings and kicking off what’s known today as the Latin American Boom.

This flourishing is commonly understood to have started in 1967, when García Márquez moved into my apartment and started writing The Autumn of the Patriarch. But others argue its roots are in the prior meeting of García Márquez and his literary agent, Carmen Balcells, a Catalan woman who would change the face of Spanish publishing forever.

Balcells brought a crack platoon of Latin American writers over to Old World Barcelona, including Mario Vargas Llosa and Julio Cortázar, turning this city into a 1920s Paris for expatriate Hispanophones. Balcells was their Gertrude Stein: muse, den mother, and intellectual chef.

All this was going on amid a period of unease in Spain. While the rest of the Western world was caught up in 1960s antiwar protests and social movements, Spain was still trapped under the lid of Francisco Franco, a dictatorship that ended with his death in 1975. Censorship laws were still in place, yet Barcelona — despite the ban on the regional language of Catalan — was the hub of Spanish publishing. These writers were right in the middle of the tension, creating novels that would forever change Latin American literature.

¤

Catalan journalist Xavi Ayén documented those years in his engaging history Aquellos Años del Boom (“Those Years of the Boom”), a near-thousand-page-long anthology of those 10-odd years. He begins by saying that the cultural fusion couldn’t have been born anywhere else but Barcelona, a “city where the book was king and during a time when literature was queen.”

Many books and authors emerged from that era — most notably, the literary genre of magical realism broke out of Latin America into a global readership. But the “who should be included” in this literary period and “who shouldn’t” is still questionable. García Márquez’s biographer Gerald Martin says there are a handful of undisputed Boom writers, whom he calls the Fab Four: Gabriel García Márquez, Mario Vargas Llosa, Julio Cortázar, and Carlos Fuentes.

“The Boom is best understood as the crystallization and culmination of Latin America’s twentieth-century modernist movement,” Martin writes in his biography, Gabriel García Márquez: A Life. It’s when Latin American literature was, after decades of a post-colonial world, finally introduced to a wider audience.

And the spark that set it off was, arguably, García Márquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude. Ayén writes that since the novel was published in 1967, it has sold over 100,000 copies every year, a never-before-seen figure in Latin American literature. It was this explosion, he adds, that let other Latin American writers follow suit and, for the first time, become best sellers in European bookstands.

“Latin American literature had been completely marginalized internationally up until that point,” said Ayén when I met him at a cafe in Barcelona. “So for the first time, the best living writers in the world were Latin American. That had never happened before. And it was a huge pride, a huge boost, it was like winning the World Cup in literature for all of Latin America.”

The Boom was more than just a time in history — it also resulted in close friendships between the writers that formed part of it. García Márquez and Vargas Llosa both settled in Barcelona in the late ’60s — they lived down the street from each other in the upscale neighborhood of Sarrià, where Gabo moved after living in my apartment. Gabo used to joke that he would tap on his walls to communicate with Vargas Llosa, so close were their apartments to one another. They would spend hours at the neighborhood’s Bar Tomás, an early 20th-century joint still popular today, talking literature and politics.

Their families, and those of their other Spanish and Catalan friends, would spend birthdays together, holidays together, and many evenings listening to music in Gabo’s apartment, a music lover who was known for having one of the best sound systems in the neighborhood. Leticia Escario and her husband, Luis Feduchi, became an integral part of this group, despite not being writers themselves.

“Gabo was a very generous person, kind of shy. He didn’t like to show off,” said Escario when I met her for coffee one morning. “We were like one big family. We would spend Sundays together, we met each other’s extended families. Luis and Gabo would even recite poetry together.”

But not all of the Boom writers built their lives in Barcelona. Cortázar, for example, chose to live in Paris. Yet he spent a lot of his time in the Catalan capital. What held them all together — the rock in a sea of drifters — was their literary agent Carmen Balcells.

¤

I met Carmen Balcells’s son, Luis Miguel Palomares, at the Carmen Balcells Literary Agency offices. He took over the agency when his mother died in 2015. The spacious centuries-old apartment was full of light, despite it being a dreary rainy day; at his desk, he had a white bust of his mother and a collage of photos, including one of them together when he was a child.

When I asked if he thought Balcells and Gabo were the rocks of the Latin American Boom, comparing them to “the John and Paul of the Beatles,” Palomares hesitated.

“There were a lot of other people,” he said, listing a handful. “They were just two of many. I’m not here to comment on the importance of my mother, but you pull up just a few articles on the topic, and you’ll see that biographers and journalists all say the same thing: she changed Spanish publishing forever.”

And it’s true. Just a quick search of Balcells’s name will result in dozens of articles, crediting her with shepherding a generation of Latin American authors. She was one of the big reasons a lot of these writers moved to Barcelona — or at the very least, visited often — and gave them access to Europe’s literary markets for the first time. But it was the way she approached publishing, and the way she treated her writers, that made her stand out. Many of them called her la mamá grande, the big mama.

“She was all about taking care of the author, one hundred percent,” said Palomares, who from a young age helped his mother out at the agency and met many, if not all, of the Boom writers. “This wasn’t about economics or business. It was about the human element.”

On top of negotiating multi-book deals and pushing for better contracts with publishers, Balcells would take care of finding apartments for the writers, often far from the city center to prevent them from getting distracted (in sympathy to García Márquez, I’ve often complained that my apartment is far from everything, inconveniently located up a hill). She would support the writers financially when they couldn’t make ends meet and even help them take care of personal things, like finding a school for their children or a doctor when they were sick.

“They called her for every little thing, like little children,” said journalist Ayén. “But, the agreement was, you do what I tell you then. So, no one questioned her.”

Balcells wanted these writers to do what they did best: write, and only write.

“She took huge economic risks,” said Palomares. “The protection she gave them surpassed what’s normally seen. She would make their lives easier.”

And while Balcells may have held the group of writers together — even after García Márquez and Vargas Llosa got in a famous fistfight in 1976 — biographer Gerald Martin says the key to understanding the Latin American Boom is more than just Balcells; it’s the coming together of her and Gabo.

“He writes the most successful book in the history of Latin America, ever. Which, it still is. So, she falls in and wins the lottery, as they say,” he said over a phone conversation. “The absolute key was that Carmen Balcells got him as her writer.”

The two maintained a close friendship throughout their lives — they died just one year apart. During the years García Márquez lived in Barcelona, he would visit Balcells’s office several times a week, to talk or just get advice. They spent time with each other’s families; Palomares remembers going to the Gabos’s house and playing with his sons, who were about his age. Even after his Barcelona years, García Márquez visited the Catalan capital often; Balcells’s agency always had his green SEAT 1430 car ready for him to drive.

“She’s the person he went straight to when he arrived. She’s the person who almost certainty fixed him up with the first apartments,” said Martin. “She’s the person who turned his books into commodities, in the most successful way. It was a marriage made in heaven between these brilliant writers and this brilliant agent.”

¤

Though García Márquez was no fan of Franco, his love for all things Catalan began as a young man growing up in Colombia, where he was exposed to the exiles that had fled after the Spanish Civil War. When he arrived here three decades later, Barcelona was still full of anti-Franco activists and underground movements; the Catalan region had been especially oppressed because of its drive to speak its own language and practice its own culture.

“There’s something about the Mediterranean Sea that brings in a breeze of fresh air,” said Leticia Escario, who lived in Barcelona through the dictatorship. “It was more open to the rest of the world, literally speaking. It’s close to France, so it was easier for people to travel.”

Gabo remembers his time in Barcelona as some of the happiest years of his life. In a personal reflection published in Ayén’s Aquellos Años del Boom, he admitted that, in light of the Francoist dictatorship in power, the freedom he found in Barcelona surprised him. But he realized it was a space that had been “won” — though, in this case, not through war — by the everyday perseverance of writers, artists, journalists, and the Catalan people. And now he was like one of them.

The Latin American Boom has largely been washed from Barcelona’s history: the city is often identified with the architect Antoni Gaudí, or perhaps with the years Pablo Picasso spent here, or more recently with the Barcelona soccer team and its Argentine star, Lionel Messi. There are no public memorials dedicated to the writers who started a literary revolution 50 years ago, or their energetic Catalan agent. Though there are dozens of literary tours around the city, they usually revolve around novels and stories set in Barcelona, not what was actually written here.

Alex Lloreda organizes tours through his company Literat Tours, and says that in his 10 years of work, not one person has proposed a literary tour based on the Boom. He’s not opposed to the idea, however; and has for a while considered creating one in Sarrià, where both Gabo and Vargas Llosa lived.

García Márquez will, however, get his name on something: construction for a new library named after him began just some months ago, but the place isn’t due to open for another two or so years.

Many people asked me how it was possible that the apartment’s owner didn’t tell me, when I rented out the place, that García Márquez once lived there. But the owner didn’t even know. My roommate, who had lived at the apartment for years before I arrived, also didn’t know. Nobody in the building or the neighborhood remembers the years Gabo lived here, and nobody who lived through it 50 years ago bothered to pass down the stories to their children or younger neighbors.

Only in the Sarrià neighborhood are there whispers of his having been around. The bartenders at the Bar Tomás, where García Márquez and Vargas Llosa used to drink, speak of them like ghosts. The place was buzzing with customers on a recent Tuesday afternoon, and they kept their eyes on their work as they talked, pouring beers and serving croquetas on little plates. “There are stories about Gabo around here,” one of them says. “And maybe some of the older people around the neighborhood will remember seeing him around. But other than that, everyone else has passed away.”

Just like my apartment, the place where he moved to in Sarrià has no indication of Gabo having lived there. It stands quietly as if nothing had ever happened in there, as if a famous novel had not been written inside there, as if a group of influential writers had not spent hours talking politics in there.

And as I stood outside the building, looking up into the windows that Gabo once gazed through, I wondered if maybe it’s better that way. The local geography is our own little secret; a history relived for those lucky enough to know it.

¤

Lucia Benavides is a writer and journalist currently based in Barcelona, who has worked as a reporter/producer at the NPR affiliate in Austin, Texas. Her work has also appeared in Teen Vogue and Al Jazeera English.

The post García Márquez Slept Here appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

from Los Angeles Review of Books https://ift.tt/2Lwv9fe

[barcastat]

Andrés Iniesta - Top of the World

Andrés waited until everyone else in Johannesburg was asleep. He has always been able to find a silent space to listen to his own body, and now finally off of Raúl's treatment table, that is exactly what he wanted to do. He carefully opened the door of his hotel room and he began to run. He began to run as if he was running for his life, from one end of the hallway of the team's South Africa hotel to the other. He was satisfying an irresistible urge to carry out his own personal fitness test, with no one watching, and even though there was no ball at his feet. He was a long way from the pitch, but this was enough to know that he was cured. It was enough to convince him. He wanted to shout: “I'm ready, the torment is over.”  At long last, Iniesta could run, he could play, all the way to the World Cup final. Those damned muscles injured months ago had finally been fixed as if by magic. After so many setbacks, they were once again synchronized like the hands of a Swiss watch. They had been made good again thanks to the precise care of Raúl Martinez and the advice of Emili Ricart, two men separated by thousands of kilometres but joined together by the common link of Iniesta. “l was not there with Andrés. Nor do I know when it was that he started running. He did not tell me. Sometimes certain injuries have no real scientific explanation. I never fully understood this one. After various tests we found a part of the muscle fibre, that we had previously ignored, which seemed to be provoking a sort of disorganization in the leg. I thought that could be the crux of the problem.” Raúl said. Raúl unblocked the leg and Emili cleared the head with a video that Andrés watched every night before going to bed, as if he was reciting the 'Lord’s Prayer’ as a small boy in Fuentealbilla. Pep Guardiola loved the subject of motivation and just as with the Gladiator video he showed his Barcelona players before the Champions League final in Rome in 2009, he also prepared, along with Emili and Santi Pedro, a TV3 journalist, a video to inspire Barca to a second-leg comeback against José Mourinho's Inter in the Champions League semi-final of 2010. That tape recounted various big defeats and then some very big victories; moments of huge frustration and of great euphoria experienced by Sporting figures such as Roger Federer, Fernando Alonso, synchronized swimmer Gemma Mengual, the Spain basketball team and the Spanish handball team. It also included the 'Iniestazo’ as Iniesta's semi-final goal against Chelsea in 2009 had become known and that Rome final with some opera from Bocelli to accompany Leo Messi’s famous header and the image of him hanging from the sky of the Olympic Stadium as he scored the second goal of the 2-0 win that night. The film started with the euphoria, the embraces, the high-fives, the unity in victory. But the glorious colour of the opening frames then gave way to the black and white images of defeat, of sportsmen free-falling towards failure. There were around 30 seconds of the suffering of finishing second of Puyol and Estiarte lamenting Essien's brilliant goal from the main stand of Stamford Bridge in London in 2009 as Laporta nervously ran his hand over the top of his hair, imagining the worst. Then the colour returned as defeat was turned into victory once more, until the last image of Barça, together in a circle, celebrating the club’s third European Cup in Rome. It was a great way to visualize beating Mourinho's team. Guardiola, however, never let his players see that DVD in the Camp Nou dressing-room before the game against Inter. The coach sensed a degree of over-excitement in the journey to the stadium when the team bus came down from the hotel on the Tibidabo mountain through a sea of expectant Barcelona fans lining the streets. He decided he did not want to crank up his players' level of adrenaline any higher and so that video of four minutes and four seconds stayed in the hands of Emili. At least that was the case until he decided to give it to Iniesta at the 2010 World Cup. Emili exchanged messages with Andrés every day, so he knew that it was working for him as soon as he found out about that solitary run down the hallway of Spain's team hotel. Raúl did not even need to speak to Andrés. The player gave the game away with that deliriously happy look of illumination on his face. Now used to playing with pain, he felt free at last and anxious to reach the boat in Johannesburg’s Soccer City the light that waited for him on the other side of those Soweto suburbs. “You would struggle to find anyone as honest, dedicated and so willing, to work as Emili.” Andrés says. “I never knew him personally until Guardiola brought him with him to the first team. Since then we have become practically inseparable. I can identify with him, with his way of thinking and his way of working. He is very special to me.” says Andrés, who also feels much the same way about Raúl. “I knew that Raúl was a phenomenon in his field. And he showed that during the World Cup. I can honestly say that, in sporting terms, he saved my life. He knows my body and how it works as if he had given birth to me. He has become indispensable.” One is ‘special' and the other ‘indispensable’. Both are there to help Andrés. They understand the doubts and concerns of a player who needed to test his fitness in private; who needed to listen to his body and hear that everything was now in the right place. “Yes!” resounded in the hotel hallway from the mouth of Iniesta whose World Cup started at that very moment. “On 13 April 2010, I injured my right hamstring training at Barcelona’s Ciudad Deportiva. It really felt that I had torn it and there was only a little over a month before Del Bosque  would name the squad for the World Cup. Time was very tight and I really believed that l was not going to make it.” said Iniesta. That moment of pain is still remembered at Barcelona’s training ground at Sant Joan Despí. Everyone was shocked to see Andrés abandon the session in tears accompanied by Emili, and eventually also by Carles Puyol as soon as he realized just how serious the injury was. “Cheer up, Andrés, everything will be fine.” The defender whispered in his ear as they left the training pitch together. Andrés heard nothing as they took the long walk back to the dressing-room. He was paralyzed by the fear that he was now back in the abyss, one that he was convinced he had left behind for good. All he could hear was his own sobbing. I told him: "Don't worry, Andrés. You are going to be the best player at the World Cup. But he was crying so much I don’t think he heard me.” says Paco Seirulo, the fitness coach at Barcelona whose words had been almost lost in the sound of the falling water from the shower. “Of course I heard Paco. But I could not bring myself to respond.” Iniesta says, remembering the scene inside the dressing-room moments before Puyol, captain, friend and confidant, would open the door to the solution to his problem: “You have to talk to Raúl, okay? Everything will be fine but you must speak to Raúl.” “My heart and my morale were on the floor. I had suffered with injuries for a year, but it seemed I was in the clear and full of excitement for the World Cup. But now I was back on the brink of missing the tournament.” says Andrés. “And yes I spoke to Raúl.” It may have appeared that Andrés had not been listening, but he was soon surrounded by the best specialists, and they were determined to put the boy from Fuentealbilla right once again. “The first thing Raúl told me was: ‘Don't worry, you will make the World Cup! And once you are there, we will do everything we can to make sure you get back to normal.’” ‘Normal?’ Such a low-key word for such a desperate situation. A footballer on the verge of missing a World Cup finals. “It is one of the most difficult moments that l have had to go through. But life has shown me not to give up, ever.” Andrés wrote at the time. There were now less than two months before Spain's first game in Durban. “Before the tournament began we had a month of spending every evening together. After dinner, it would be ‘time for Rail’ and I would lay down on the treatment table and put my body in his hands.” says Andrés. “What did I do to him?” Raúl still takes a few seconds to answer the question he has set himself. How did he change Andrés’ body? The video from Emili got him through the night but it was the magic hands of Raúl that helped him survive the day-to-day struggle to get his muscles right to play again. Both men knew that something was not right with Andrés. Something that not even the calm transmitted by Vicente del Bosque could remedy. “Don’t worry, I will wait for you right until the end.”  Del Bosque had told him. The man from Salamanca, fair and sensitive as ever, a man of his word, was showing his usual common sense. The patience of the coach was as decisive as the work of the two physiotherapists and the work and attitude of Iniesta himself. One week before his World Cup debut against Switzerland, Spain played their final friendly, in Murcia against Poland. Andrés was back. The midfielder picked up the ball on the left wing, whereas a right-footer he had always been so comfortable finding space and then bringing the ball inside. This particular move lasted 16 seconds and took him to the edge of Kuszczak area. He had swapped passes with Xavi and Silva before receiving the ball again with his back to the Polish goal. He controlled with his left foot, stepped on it with his right and turned to face the five Polish defenders between him and the goal. With the Murcia public on the edge of their seats, he flicked the ball up and over the Polish wall and played in Xavi who squared for Silva to score. Now you see it, now you don't, and all in the blink of an eye. “There we saw a magician inventing a pass, inventing a space, Xavi arriving from deep, the assist, the finish from David, real team play.” That was Andoni Zubizarreta version of the goal. He was an analyst at the time and only later become sporting director for Barcelona. It was another expression of a long-held admiration and one that told him what would happen as soon as the ball left the right boot of Iniesta. The game was no more than 14 minutes old and Raúl and Emili, the former sat on the bench of the Nueva Condomina stadium and the latter preparing a holiday to the Dominican Republic, were smiling broadly, accomplices in the happiness of Andrés who after setting up Villa with that right-footed pass for the first goal, had now played in Xavi for the second. There was euphoria in the stands and in the squad as everyone celebrated Iniesta's recovery. Until he came over to the bench and asked Del Bosque to take him off. “I have to learn from my experiences.” argues the player, wise enough to know that if he feels even the slightest pain he should ask to be replaced as he did in Murcia. Del Bosque was concerned and the team doctors were worried because this was minute 39 of a game being played on 8 June, just one week before Spain's Opening World Cup match. “We took him off because he felt some discomfort in the back of his thigh.” Spain doctor Oscar Celada told journalists after the game. “lt is not a tear and it has not deteriorated since. It was at the start of the game and he felt the discomfort so we made the change. It is a minor injury, we will do some tests but initially we can rule out anything serious. We just need to be cautious.” He was speaking for the press but also for Andrés who was now unsettled once more, trapped between the contrasting feelings of positivity for the way he had played and negativity because of the new setback. The right thigh was broken, almost. According to tests carried out in Barcelona there was a slight hamstring strain and the inflammation would require patience if it was to heal. “There is some small swelling in a muscle in the back of the right thigh. Initially the prognosis is good because there are no torn muscle fibres. We are not ruling him out for the Switzerland game.” said Juan Cota, another of the team’s doctors. The initial prognosis was good. But that word ‘initial’ had been cruel on Andrés in the past. He had suffered other injuries that had an ‘initially’ favourable diagnosis and turned out to be much worse, none more so than the torn thigh and the groin problem that blighted his season at Barcelona. The World Cup was about to start and Del Bosque was even more worried because he knew the subtleties of Spain's best football came from Iniesta. The player himself felt suffocated, annoyed at himself for having suffered so many injuries, too many. Iniesta did make it back for the game against the Swiss at the start of the World Cup but he injured himself again. This time after an hour of play, when he was brought, down by the right-back Lichtsteiner. He took his time getting back to his feet, obsessed with avoiding another major setback, he spent the next minute or so touching the back of his right thigh. That was the root of all his muscle problems. He was so worried he was unable to remember if, as nearly always, it had been Pedro who had gone on to replace him. The ritual repeated itself regardless of the opponent and even at a World Cup. Del Bosque would start with Iniesta, he would get injured, and Pedro would come on to replace him. And it seemed the better he was playing, the more likely it seemed he would pick up an injury. Andrés had played two passes inside the Swiss central defenders that had left a team-mate alone in the area. One found Piqué who had become an auxiliary centre-forward as Spain searched for a goal. Then he played a magical back-heel in another of Spain's best moves. He was on good form as he showed with a curling shot from the edge of the area from almost the same spot on the pitch from where he found the back of the net at Stamford Bridge. Then came the foul from Lichtsteiner. The injury appeared more serious this time. For a split second it seemed Andrés wanted to be swallowed up by the South African turf, something that did not pass without Canal+ commentator Michael Robinson noticing: “l don’t like the look on Iniesta’s face.” the ex-Liverpool forward told co-commentator Carlos Martínez: it was going to be necessary to revive the routine of messages from Emili and massages from Raúl. The psychological and physical therapy would be needed again and the blind faith that one day Iniesta would not have these relapses. “I came on and saw him touching the back of his thigh and said: ‘It seems like a blow to the back of the leg! Andrés.’ ‘No, no doctor, it's cramp at the back of the muscle.’ he said, which sounded the alarm bells. ‘Madre Mía! Let's walk very carefully off the pitch without hurrying, Andrés, okay?’ I said as we left the Durban pitch.” The coaching staff assumed that he would not be fit to play Honduras in five days time, but they trusted in him being ready for the last and potentially decisive group game against Chile. The Spain manager, a man of profound convictions, now had to face the criticism for the 1-0 defeat to Switzerland.“We are not going to lose perspective, we will be true to our style.” said Del Bosque. “lt was a mishap that is difficult to explain.” said Xavi. It was double frustration for Andrés with the defeat and the old injury now behaving slightly differently in South Africa from how it was in Barcelona. The situation was so delicate that they decided not to carry out tests on the injury and the doctors assured everyone that it was just a knock that would not become anything more. They didn’t want to take it any further. Convinced that if they showed Andrés one more image of the affected area, it could be the end of his World Cup. “You can’t treat a player by just showing him scans.” says Raúl “Sometimes you anticipate, or you take a risk, or you use your intuition with the aim of making sure he does not begin to obsess over his injury.” “Between the Switzerland game and the Honduras match, I had a very bad time of it.” remembers Andrés, immersed in a rehabilitation programme which naturally involved falling asleep at night to Emili video and, of course, Raúl's treatment table. And it was there in that player's confessional where a sportsman must lay himself bare and give up all his physical secrets to the perceptive hands of the physiotherapist, that he noticed the most subtle of changes, a change that would then need to be tested in the hallway of the Johannesburg hotel on the eve of the game against Honduras. “Raúl had hit the right spot, I just knew it.” he remembers. “It was not easy getting a handle on him; he's difficult to understand and sometimes I think l still don't.” says Raul. “But once you do, you see what an enigma he is. He lives in his own world, you never know what he is thinking, as if he is a little disconnected, and at first not overly-trusting it's hard to get inside his head. And when he is injured, it’s worse because he is anxious.” Raúl did get through to him though; the pair did strike up an understanding: “He is like a Swiss watch: in as much as we both know how he works, what he responds to, and we have learned what makes him tick.” he says. “He is as sensitive as he is mechanical. We had to harmonize his body again. And that is what we did.” But if what was happening in South Africa pointed to him returning in time for the Honduras game, another message was coming to him from Barcelona. It was a phrase that he had heard so many times before that it echoed around his head. “Andrés, you have to respect your body clock. You must always do that.” Emili never abandoned that one message - the time frames had to be respected. And so it was nine days later, on 25 June, when Andrés was able to celebrate a double victory after the defeat to Switzerland and his injury. Spain beat Chile and he scored the goal from a Villa assist - the world back to front, but who cared? He finished the game smiling like a schoolboy who had just got away with something, or at least one who had witnessed something turn out just as he had predicted. Andrés loves nothing more than that feeling as he heads back up the tunnel of being completely exhausted but wholly fulfilled by a well earned win, and even more so if one of his famous pre-match predictions has come true: “Victor, today I will score and I will dedicate it to you.” he had muttered to the team-mate on the seat next to him on the coach to Pretoria. The best victories always make fertile ground for the more intimate of anecdotes. “You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.” remembers Del Bosque whose team were fully aware that they were playing for their very survival at the World Cup. There was a tense silence barely broken by the occasional whisper, such as Iniesta’s murmured promise to Victor Valdés, the boy who protected him in La Masia, the player who was justly given the opportunity to play for Spain precisely because of the influence of Barça on Del Bosque. The goal was started and finished by Iniesta. He won possession and he combined with Torres and Villa before hitting the back of the Chilean net shot with his right foot, his good foot, now completely cured, unstoppable even for Claudio Bravo, one of the best goalkeepers around who would later become his club team-mate at the Camp Nou. It was not just any goal either, because he had only scored one another in 42 games for Barcelona in that dramatic 2009-10 season in which he finished up playing just five minutes of the last match, as Guardiola's team beat Valladolid to win the league at the Camp Nou. Andrés had stopped touching the back of his leg and was now looking at his boots instead. He was no longer thinking about the games he had played, and was instead focused on the matches to come. There was no longer any trace of that pain in the right leg so well cared for by Rail. “A lot of the problems I have had with the hamstring derive from the injury I sustained playing the Rome Champions League final.” Andrés confesses. He might not be a doctor but he knows his own body as if he were a fusion of Raúl and Emili. “There were so many months of difficulties but when Raúl got to the root of the problem and liberated that area of the muscle everything started to work properly again.” says Andrés who always expresses himself best, not with words or gestures, but with his feet. When his body is right, stable and in perfect harmony, that’s when he can let the ball do the talking. “If I feel good, then everything else just flows.” There is no middle ground with Andrés, he is indestructible when he is fully fit, and fragile when he is injured; even slightly fatalistic. “Why did this have to happen now, just at the moment when l was feeling so good?” he would ask after every setback, not differentiating between small or big injuries and demanding so much from his body. But he felt good again now; good on that journey from the last group game in Pretoria to the final in Johannesburg. The muscle had healed and so had the memory of it in Cape Town in the last 16, the front pages had told of victory over Portugal and Ronaldo taking the defeat badly. ln Johannesburg in the quarter-final against Paraguay, Casillas had saved a decisive penalty with a little help from reserve goalkeeper Pepe Reina who had previously faced spot-kicks from Oscar Cardozo and told him which way to dive. And the semi-final against Germany was a happy return to the scene of all the uncertainties from the first match of the finals it had been in Durban on 16 june when he picked up the injury against Switzerland. But it would also be in Durban on 7 July when he was able to enjoy the moment Puyol threw open the doors to the World Cup final. “Please Xavi, the next corner, put it there for me, okay?” came the request from the Barcelona captain Puyol to his club team-mate. “But why would I put it right in the centre for you? Can't you see how big the Germans are?” Xavi responded. “For fuck sake, Pelopo. You just put it there on the penalty spot for me, can’t you see they are like statues?” came back the response. “Okay, okay! Like it’s that easy!” said Xavi, or ‘Pelopo’, the nickname he has had since his days at La Masia (a body hair reference, explain his teammates whenever asked.) “lf you don't put it there, I’m not coming, up for any more corners.” shouted back Puyol. Television cameras captured this heated discussion at half-time as both players walked off with the score at 0-0, Xavi repeating the phrase to himself. “Like it’s that easy!” It certainly was not easy, especially with the Jabulani, the glorified beach ball that despite having a life of its own had become the official World Cup match ball. Any doubt that Xavi could deliver lasted only until Spain won their first second-half corner. More convinced of his own ability than ever, he trotted across to the corner to the right of Neuer’s goal. “Right now, you are going to get it, Puyi.” Alongside him was Iniesta, no more than five or six metres away. Although Iniesta did not know it at the time, his job was one of distraction: operation Xavi and Puyol needed a decoy. Xavi wanted the German defenders to think that Spain would play the kick short, as they were tending to do, trying to draw the German giants out of their area. The short corner was straight out of the Barça and Spain textbook but the textbook was torn up in favour of the stubborn belief of Puyol and the complicity of Xavi. The Jabulani obeyed the maestro's right foot and flew directly over the penalty spot where it was met by Puyol's head. The Catalan centre back rose a split second before and jumped a centimetre higher than any of the eight German defenders marking the five Spain players in the area. it is no secret that the football of both Spain and Barcelona is precisely a question of time and space in which one centimetre and one second can make all the difference. Players have to think quickly and arrive before their opponents and even their team-mates. Puyol got to the ball ahead of Piqué. “I was going to head it but right at that moment, he got in front of me, I thought it was a plane.” joked Gerard Piqué afterwards Puyol’s header was as powerful as it was accurate and was only ever going to end up in one place. It took just two seconds to score such a historic goal from Xavi's boot into the back of Neuer’s net. lt was a set-piece made in Barcelona and one which had already been successful against Real Madrid in the famous 6-2 Clasico win in 2009. Spain had not scored a goal from a set-piece before in a World Cup and they have not done so since. It had been the most important goal in Spain's history. “What have you done to my country? Why? What have we ever done to you. Eh?” The question did not sound friendly or tongue-in-cheek. It was more rude and unpleasant; uttered by a disgruntled passer-by towards the table where Puyol, his brother Josep and friend Javi, Iniesta and the players’ agent Ramon Sostres, were sitting. The five of them lifted their gaze towards the arrogant-sounding German voice that had addressed the captain of Barcelona. It was Lothar Matthéus, a proud Bavarian whose intimidating curriculum included no less than five World Cups and a winner’s medal from Italia ‘90. “I haven’t done anything. Just a little header.” responded Puyol, smiling through that mop of curly hair. His reactions had been as quick as for the goal itself. “Relax, relax! I hope you have a lot of luck in the final!” said the German. Matthéius smiled and walked away and everyone else smiled too, their conversation having been interrupted by what at first seemed like a provocation but had then turned into light-hearted congratulations once the Latinos had decoded the German humour. “Do you realize what you have done, Carles? You have scored the most important goal in the history of Spanish football and everyone knows it.” said his companions at the table. “Let’s hope only until Sunday.” said the goalscorer. “Only until Sunday.” “Relax, Carles, I will take care of that. Don't you worry.” Suddenly all eyes were on Andrés. Everyone was surprised by the forcefulness of the statement he had just made, and filled with hope too because whenever he made such bold predictions it was usually because he had seen what was about to happen. When everything seems straightforward, his is the voice that warns against complacency; and when everything seems difficult, his is the voice that announces the arrival of a better future. “Do you believe in destiny, Andrés?” came the question from the table. “Destiny is a very complex word. l was certainly in the right place at the right time.’ And if he was in South Africa it certainly was not by coincidence. The relief at being there after thinking his chance may have gone explained his relaxed mood leading up to the final; one that allowed him to intervene in these post-match discussions, to enjoy Emili's therapy video every night and to raise a glass to Ram's treatment table. Soccer City, 11 july 2010, the day of the World Cup final, and the minutes leading up to a game the whole planet would stop to watch. A planet intrigued by a Holland side who now played like one of the fierce Spain teams of old, up against a Spain team that now more than ever before resembled the classic Dutch masters whose Total Football may have lost the World Cup to Franz Beckenbauer's Germans in 1974 but won over the whole of Football. Roles had been reversed since the arrival of Luis Aragonés and Del Bosque, who both encouraged teams that looked to control matches through possession who were built around the talented ball-playing Spanish midfielder, and therefore. naturally, around Iniesta. With Aragonés, Spain won Euro 2008, their first title in 44 years; now two years later, they were 90 minutes away from a first-ever World Cup. Andrés reached the dressing-room and went deeper and deeper into his own world, only coming to the surface for a moment to speak with Hugo Camarero. He had something to say to one of Spain's assistants, a member of the backroom physio team, one who has hands of silk that calm the most tired and pained of muscles, Hugo was in the dressing-room when he heard Iniesta. “Hey Hugo, please..” Hugo, consumed by the usual pre-match hustle and bustle, and even more so because this was a World Cup final, stopped what he was doing to attend to Andrés. “First, Jesús Navas sent for me to arrange to dedicate a shirt, then Andrés came to see me. He was working with Raúl at the time. I don’t know if he had seen what I had done for Jésus in the dressing-room before a game so many things happen, so imagine before a World Cup final: treatments, bandages, massages." Andrés came over: “Hey, Hugo, make me a shirt for Jarque, please.” “What size do you want it? Big, small, short-sleeved, long-sleeved, a vest? Short-sleeved, okay don’t worry, when you come back from the warm-up we will have it ready.” Andrés continued: “Please put: ‘Dani Jarque, always with us.’ and make sure it's written large on the front.” “Don’t worry, when you come back in it will be there for you.’ Andrés went out to warm up. Hugo also had to go out onto the pitch at Soccer City to accompany and help the physical trainer Javi Mihano take the session. But before that he now had something to do. “As fast as I could, I went to look for Joaquin who is one of the kit men with the Spain team.” recalls Hugo. “Here you go, Hugo, the vest you wanted!’ But who gave him the marker pen? “That was also Joaquin. They always have them for the corners and free-kick sheets that are given to the players before every match. But Joaquin, and don't ask me why, already suspected something. ‘Don’t use too much ink. We are going to need that marker pen. You will see why.’ he said to me.” With every letter he wrote, with a sort of accelerated patience, he could feel the stare of Joaquin on the back of his neck. Would there be enough ink? “I am very meticulous and I was pressing down hard on each letter, using more ink than Joaquin wanted me to. Why? Because I wanted people to be able to read the words. I wanted it to look perfect.” Hugo was acting with an unshakeable faith that this shirt would be seen by the whole world. Andrés was still out on the pitch warming up and Minano was missing Hugo, but Hugo had still not finished. “Come on, Hugo-come on.” Between the pressure he was being put under by Joaquin and the pressure he was under anyway, he finished as quickly as he could. “Perhaps six or seven minutes. Not much more.” When Andrés returned, the shirt was waiting for him. “I don't think he said anything to me.” remembers Hugo. “Maybe he raised his hand. You  know what he's like. He says more with a gesture or a look than with words.” Hugo returned to the quiet of the dressing room after the warm-up had finished. Andrés had withdrawn into his own silent space. It was the calm before the storm a very delicate mix of subtle gestures, looks and whispers ahead of the game they all knew was the biggest of their lives. Nobody saw him put on that second layer beneath his red and blue Spain shirt. Nor did anyone notice that Andrés, superstitious and never comfortable with long sleeves had cut the sleeves on his shirt. “I remember that the tunnel from the dressing-room to the pitch was so long and steep.”  Andrés says. “When you saw the light at the end of it, it gave you the feeling of entering a Colosseum. You didn't see the stands until you were right in the mouth of the tunnel.” In that tunnel, Andrés, with the sleeveless white tee shirt carrying Hugo’s handiwork on the front of it, under his own Spain number 6, begins to feel something inside. It isn't fear or anxiety. Is it nerves? A little insecurity, perhaps? He walks down that tunnel, on edge. “When I see that photograph, it still makes my hair stand on end.” says  Hugo. “So imagine what it was like for him! I see that message and my mind is swamped by a thousand flashbacks. And I think about all that he went through at that World Cup. Did he suffer? Yes, he did. He suffered a lot.” says Hugo. “It was fifty five days, including the preparation leading up to the tournament. Days and nights of treatment, sometimes until four in the morning. Look what happened in Murcia before the trip to South Africa. He was home free but the injury caught up with him. Look what happened against the Swiss. He was so nearly a hundred percent right again, but he had to start all over again. Every morning the same routine, the same scene. Let’s see now, the good morning greeting you get from Andrés. How does it go? We didn't really need words by the end. I think he ended up having more training sessions with me than with the rest of the team. If he gave you a smile, then that was enough. With a simple gesture, it was enough. There were nights when I spent more time praying than sleeping. Praying that the following morning, his good morning smile would be a reassuring one.” The kit men for the Spain team worked with the utmost care to make sure Andrés wanted for nothing. Before going to South Africa, the Spanish Football Federation even set up a gymnasium at the team’s training ground at Las Rozas with machines especially suited to his needs. “We brought the same machines that Xavi and Iniesta used in Barcelona” said Hugo. “And then we pressured them to take similar machines to the World Cup including the same running machine for Ramos. Andrés is very superstitious. But then many players are.” One day when Hugo was at training with Spain defender Raúl Albiol, the team doctor rushed on to the pitch shouting at Hugo: “You need to be with Andrés so you can do the same exercises with him as always now please and then you can come back to work with Albiol.” The patient was sure that with the same exercise routine every day, the body would end up synchronizing. That is why Hugo left everything he was doing and marched off for his meeting with Andrés Iniesta's legs. The routine could not be broken. “We had to manage the process very well with Andrés.” says Hugo. “The tests that we gave him, the information that we gave him, everything had to be really positive. I remember Raúl always repeating the same message to him so there were no doubts: ‘Relax, Andrés everything's going well. Relax.’ In fact, everything was not going well. It was going badly. But no matter how badly, we had to be positive.” Hugo was thinking about so many of these tiny details experienced during those 55 days as he made the long walk down the Soccer City tunnel. He was happy because Andrés had found exactly what he had asked for when he got back to his locker in the dressing-room. Everything was as it should be as he walked on to the pitch passing -without looking at it the World Cup he hoped he would end up kissing that night. “We got no idea what happened to that marker pen. I was a little bit annoyed when I gave it back that much I do remember.” says Hugo. There was a message on Jesús Navas' shirt that night too. The same one, written instead for Antonio Puerta, who had died tragically on the pitch when playing for Sevilla. The shirts were different too. The one used by Jesus was short-sleeved and blue and the one used by Andres, as the a whole world saw, was white and sleeveless. Both were the handiwork of Hugo Camarero. “Why did I never think of it before? I don't know. I don’t think too much about things. Perhaps it was inspiration from somewhere.” says Andrés. In the build-up to the final; Iniesta was occupied with more domestic affairs. He was making sure that his closest friends Jordi, Joel, Sesi and Alexis reached Johannesburg in time to see the final. “I didn’t need to think about the shirt when I scored the goal. It is something instinctive. You score and you immediately take off your shirt. lf I had thought about it too much, then maybe it would not have worked out so well. It went perfectly, it never got caught up, I took it off cleanly. It never fell to the ground. I never fell to the ground. It was incredible.” Hugo's handwritten message had ceased to be hidden beneath Andrés' Spain shirt. The message stirred millions of hearts, shaken by the unforgettable goal that had preceded it. ‘Dani Jarque, always with us.’ “I saw the goal in a different way to everyone else.” Andrés says. What is it like to score the goal that wins a World Cup and buries the footballing frustrations of an entire nation with one shot? “When I received the ball, I couldn’t hear a thing.” he says. “It feels as though when l controlled the ball the whole world stopped. It is difficult to explain. I didn’t feel anything in that moment, there was just silence. The ball, the goal, and  me. It is true that just before the ball is passed to me, I take a step back just to be sure I'm not offside. I knew that I wasn't, it was something instinctive. It's something your body does on autopilot. And then, then came the silence.” The ball arrived and sat up sweetly for Iniesta to control it and strike it “You have to hold back for just a moment, just so that you catch it perfectly. You're in charge. You and only you. The ball was Newton’s apple. And so that made me Newton. I just needed to wait for gravity to take its course. You control the situation. You decide the height the ball is at when you hit it, how hard you hit it, and where you send it. In that moment of silence, it's just you and the ball. My intention was to 'shoot as far into the corner as I could so that the goalkeeper could not get to it, but it ends up going in more centrally. But I hit it hard, that’s for sure. The truth is I don’t like to think too much about the process. When you think you lose a tenth of a second, and if you think too much you can miss.”The ball, struck a little more centrally than planned, bent back the right hand of Stekelenburg. With the Dutch keeper now on his knees beaten by the shot, Andrés turned towards the linesman hoping he had not committed the monumental injustice of raising his flag, because he had been onside. He also looked back towards the centre of the pitch remembering something else: “I participated in the entire move for the goal.”He speaks with pride about the way he had helped knit together the move that went from Sergio Ramos' zone at right back, to the centre-forward position,formerly the home of Fernando Torres before he injured himself in that second period of extra time, the backheel to Navas, the movement into space, the pause; all of it necessary for the move to go down in Spanish football history. Andrés is there in all those details. The player who says he doesn’t like to think too much. He did not suffer in those agonizing final minutes despite the nervous moments in the Spain area. “When I saw Robben coming in on Casillas, I was expectant. Nothing more than that. In the end you trust the goalkeeper, it's as simple as that. Now, after watching replays of the chance many times, I think Robben had enough pitch to dribble around Iker. But, luckily, he hit the shot and met with an immense Casillas. That save was so vital. What is more, the more minutes that were played the better I was feeling. I had the feeling we were going to win. The team was getting stronger, I was getting stronger. It is something you can feel. You can see it in the way you are receiving the ball and I wanted to play an important part. I wanted to take responsibility and I had the energy levels to do so. l felt no fear with the ball at my feet! I was empowered. And I'm not saying that just because of the goal, because that was just one of the many moves we put together. Before the goal I remember one chance when l controlled the ball well but just could not finish: There was the move when Heitinga was sent off and two or three other chances. I had the feeling I was going to have to dig even deeper than the rest for us to win that final. Don’t ask me why, that is just the way I felt.” says Andrés. What is more, it was not an easy final and not just for purely football reasons or because it had gone into extra time. Andrés knew right from the first kick that he was playing a thousand mini-matches in one massive game. This felt like something that had started four years earlier in 2006. “Of course I remember the challenges from Van Bommel. How could I forget them! He stepped on me on purpose and then committed two fouls against me that could have both been straight reds. And to think I was almost the one sent off! Imagine if I had been shown the red card. That was when I stuck my hip out and he went down as if I had killed him. I was furious when he had deliberately stepped on me to hurt me. I know in that moment I could have been the one receiving the red card, so..” He can't even bring himself to finish the sentence. But then the memories come flooding back of that moment when he became unrecognizable even to himself. “They kicked us all over the place in the final: the foul from De Jong on Xabi Alonso, the ones on me. And it’s true that I don’t usually lose my cool.” But he did lose his cool to the point where for a moment, caught up in that conflict with Van Bommel. Andrés was no longer himself. Rather than talk about what almost happened, he prefers to talk about what did happen. The goal. “It is not the goal the people see on the television.” he says. “It resembles it but it was not quite like that. Through my eyes, the perspective changes. The feeling I had on the pitch is something I can’t put into words. It was just very much my goal and I know I have never scored a goal like it. I don't know how to explain it, I don’t know how to do it justice.Everything around me froze for a few seconds, I heard the silence. That sounds like a contradiction but I can't think of a better way of describing it: an audible silence.” And then the ball hits the net, Andrés removes his Spain shirt and the world sees that message and remembers Dani Jarque. That white sleeveless t-shirt written on by Hugo, is in Daniel Jarque's spiritual home - Espanyol’s Cornellà-El Prat stadium. There where the crowd applaud their former captain in minute 21 -his shirt number of every single game. The game plays on but the supporters forget the football for a moment and give Dani, Andrés' friend, a minute's ovation, match after match, season after season. The blue Spain shirt with the sleeves hurriedly cut in the Soccer Qty dressing room is another football artefact and that is not in Andrés’ possession either. Who has it? “That particular treasure is in very safe hands.” he says. Emili still can't believe the gift that Andrés gave him when he came back from South Africa, a blue Spain shirt with something very special written on it: “Our secret worked, we became Champions! Thanks for being by my side! With affection. A. Iniesta 6.” This time it was the hand, not of Hugo but of Andrés, dedicating the shirt that still did not have the star above the badge reserved for teams who have won the World Cup but would be here forever more. Everyone remembers the goal. No one will ever forget it. But few remember that Andrés played six of the seven games at the World Cup and in three of them was voted man of the match; including the final of course.

[junker-town]

Arsenal will be eliminated in the Champions League round of 16, because that’s what always happens

Once again, the Gunners face Bayern Munich in the knockout round. Arsenal fans, get ready for another letdown.

Arsenal has drawn Bayern Munich in the round of 16 of this year’s Champions League. Wonderful. Just wonderful. No one expected this at all. The next surprise is sure to be Arsenal losing the tie. Very original. Wenger’s team hasn’t advanced past the round of 16 since the 2010-2011 season. In that time they’ve faced and lost to Barcelona, Monaco, Bayern, Bayern, AC Milan, and Barcelona again.

This year there’s hope! Arsenal is on a spectacular run of form with its stars at their best. Alexis Sanchez is scoring for fun, Mesut Özil is being an angelic as always, Theo Walcott has accepted and grown formidable in his role on the right. The midfield is mostly fit. The defense now actually has players who can tackle and, well, defend, rather than being a collection of misfit toys. Petr Cech can catch the ball and stop shots unlike Manuel Almunia and Łukasz Fabiański, and he hasn’t shown any indication that he smokes cigarettes in the showers like Wojciech Szczęsny.

But hope is the defect of the human psyche. It makes the subsequent pain greater. Leo Tolstoy knew this:

“Always the same. Now a spark of hope flashes up, then a sea of despair

rages, and always pain; always pain, always despair, and always the same.”

We’ve been here before. Always the round of 16. Always a terrible performance in the first leg and then a hopeful one in the second. Always an exit. Bayern, Barcelona, Bayern, Bayern, Barcelona. Always the same. “It's impossible, impossible, to go on like this.”

All the games aren’t alike though, and within this madness, this despairing repetition, there’s some hilarity and stories to be found. And because the round of 16 seems to be Arsenal’s theme for the Champions League, here are 16 of those observations about the previous six exits.

2015/2016, Barcelona 3-1 Arsenal (agg: 5-1). Mathieu Flamini started the game in a midfield two with Mohamed Elneny. Flamini did as Flaminis are wont to do and was yellow carded by the 32nd minute. Realizing his mistake, Wenger subbed off Flamini at halftime for Francis Coquelin. Coquelin did as Coquelins are wont to do, Arsenal as Arsenal does, and Luis Suarez and Lionel Messi both scored to end the game. As they are liable to do.

Arsenal’s backup keeper in that game was Matt Macey. No you have not heard of him. More bizarre than that, Danny Welbeck, you may have forgotten him, started and played 73 minutes before being subbed off for Walcott.

2014/2015, AS Monaco FC 0-2 Arsenal FC (agg: 3-3, Monaco win on away goals). The hope! Always the hope. Olivier Giroud scored in the 36th minute, Arsenal took 16 shots, got seven on target, and Aaron Ramsey scored in the 79th. Just enough time to inspire that dreadful hope within a fanbase that has suffered the subsequent disappointment many times. “The valiant effort to overturn the first leg deficit was in vain” could very well replace the present Arsenal motto, “victory grows through harmony.”

Dimitar Berbatov, Anthony Martial, Geoffrey Kondogbia, Wallace and Yannick Carrasco were in that Monaco team. Back then Carrasco was still an innocent man. Back then, he hadn’t made his fame by taking Santiago Arias’ spirit from his body.

Carrasco caught a body http://pic.twitter.com/5tXLZsSpkR

— Zito (@_Zeets) November 23, 2016

5. Welbeck started this game as well, and was subbed off in the 72nd minute for Walcott. Interesting. Very interesting.

6. 2013/2014, FC Bayern München 1-1 Arsenal FC (agg: 3-1). When Bayern became a trigger word for Arsenal fans. The second year in which they had eliminated the Gunners. Bastian Schweinsteiger scored in the 55th minute, and Lukas Podolski equalized two minutes after. The game paled in comparison to the love story in those two goals. Schweinsteiger looks at Podolski the way Pep Guardiola looks at V-neck sweaters: with wonderment, appreciation and childish glee. Podolski feels the same way, maybe even stronger. It must have pained him greatly to be the cause of pain to his soulmate, even if it was momentarily and inconsequential to the greater result.

AHA! http://pic.twitter.com/iK5hbfm7Hr

— Lukas-Podolski.com (@Podolski10) July 13, 2014

7. Claudio Pizarro didn’t participate in the game, but he is a god and should be revered as such. It’s my belief that his presence on that team alone, was the reason that Bayern advanced.

8. 2012/2013, FC Bayern 0-2 Arsenal FC (agg: 3-3, Bayern win on away goals). The away goals, always the away goals. Nothing props up a moral victory loftier than losing on away goals. It wasn’t that you didn’t win, but that the system is flawed. And though it may be true, every goal should be worth the same, that belief is a great effort at clutching at straws. Losing on away goals is the Arsenal of defeats. The 4th place is like a trophy of losses.

9. Beating Jupp Heynckes’ Bayern, the eventual Champions League winners, 0-2 at their own stadium. Needing three goals to progress after, and this is a shocker, a disastrous first leg, Olivier Giroud scored within the first three minutes of the game. But that’s not enough. Arsenal must take you to the brink, only winning by one would have been merciful to Arsenal fans. Three goals were needed, so it is only reasonable that Laurent Koscielny scores in the 86th minute to dare the fans to imagine the possibility of another goal. That dreaded flash of hope again. Maybe this would be the time that the elusive goal that sends Arsenal through comes. It didn’t, and it never comes.

10. Tomáš Rosický, Abou Diaby, Andrey Arshavin, Gervinho and Thomas Vermaelen were in that Arsenal team. The names read like imaginary creatures from the Harry Potter world. Fantastic, Broken Players and Where to Find Them. What a whimsical time 2013 was. We were never deserving.

11. Once again, Claudio Pizarro was on the bench for Bayern. The evidence of his divinity continues to swell.

12. 2011/2013, Arsenal FC 3-0 AC Milan (agg: 3-4). Milan hold on after gallant Arsenal fightback. There’s so much comfort in the familiar.

13. Urby Emanuelson and Robinho being on that Milan team was unintentionally hilarious. They looked so much alike. It was the second coming of pre-fro Marcelo and Robinho. Also, I used to think that Emanuelson would be a great player. For that I would like to apologize to everyone reading this, God, my friends and my family for my insolence.

14. Park Chu-Young, Marouane Chamakh, Ignasi Miquel and Oğuzhan Özyakup. Fantastic, Forgotten Players and Where to Find Them.

15. 2010/2011, FC Barcelona 3-1 Arsenal FC (agg: 4-3). The beginning of the cycle, the start of the flat circle. The wound that aches until this day, because disasters don’t just happen to us and heal, they continuously assert their power. They become part of our being. The scar is always there, you just learn to live with it. A 1-0 victory against Guardiola's Barcelona at home, and a 1-3 loss at the Camp Nou. Hope, and then despair.

16. It’s more than just the scoreline alone. This is the most infamous of games. The injustice of injustices. Cesc Fabregas’ ill-timed backheel that sent Andres Iniesta into Arsenal’s box, allowing him to provide the assist for Messi’s first goal. The Judas. His dream to return to Barcelona was an open secret, but to betray Arsenal in front of the watching world was brazen to say the least.

Then the Red Card. Arsenal had equalized through a Sergio Busquets own-goal in the 53rd minute and were firmly on the front foot. In the 56th, Robin van Persie was sent through on goal, but he had been judged offside. Not hearing the whistle, as the crowd was deafening, he still took a shot on goal. An action that strikers often commit without punishment, especially in an understandably loud and tense atmosphere but the referee, Massimo Busacca, would not have it. He sent him off. Xavi Hernandez scored soon after and then Messi again. And thus the conspiracy of “UEFALona” and the cycle of round of 16 exits was born.

Arsenal will play Bayern Munich in the round of 16 of the 2016/2017 Champions League, and they will lose. They will make silly mistakes in the first game and concede enough goals that the second leg, where they will be dominant, will be incredibly tense, even for neutrals. Because Arsenal will score enough goals in that second game to brings themselves to the edge of qualification. They will need just one goal with less than five minutes remaining. And they won’t get it. This is just the way things are.

If by some miracle Arsenal actually do go past this round of 16, as they did in 2009/2010, then they’re sure to meet Barcelona in the quarterfinals. As they did that year. Always the same.