#i'm trying to get a full team so everyone is welcome!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

no-144444 · 2 months ago

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my girl- (o.piastri no.81)

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summary: fans made an edit of oscar and you being in love since your prema days.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! driver! reader (no.28)

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Oscar Piastri being in love with Y/n Y/l/n for 15 minutes straight, and vice versa (F2 -> F1)

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Clip 1: Prema video

Bahrain Airport, F2 season beginning, March.

“And here we have the 3 year reigning champion of the Indycar Junior series, making her F2 pivot, Y/n Y/l/n!” Rob cheered as he woke you from your nap on the plane.

“Shut up,” you groaned, pushing the camera away with a chuckle. “I'm tired, leave me be.”

“The plane is landing, idiot!”

“Hush!” you laughed. “That means ages until we get off, get your camera away Rob!”

Rob and you had gotten the same flight from London, and you’d become fast friends. He was eccentric and overtop, but a good laugh. You were sure you looked crazy. 6 hour flights do that to a person. You and Rob chatted to the camera about the weekend, and you introduced yourself to the Prema fans. Not many people gave a shit about Indycar, and even less cared about Indycar junior.

As you disembarked the plane and got through security, people stopped you and Rob for photos and whatnot, then you finally got out of the airport. Angelina was standing there with a camera and a big ‘welcome’ sign, and another two very tired teenage boys beside her.

“Y/n!” she cheered, pulling you both into a hug. “Rob!”

Little did you know, Rob’s camera was pointed at Oscar, who turned to Fred with a shocked expression and whispered: “She’s gorgeous.”

Beside him, Fred chuckled. “Go for her.”

“No way I have any chance with her, I-”

“I can hear you, y’know?” you cut in, coming over to introduce yourself.

He went redder than a tomato, and you all just laughed.

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Clip 2: Sky Sports channel

Bahrain International Circuit, 27th of March

“And it’s No. 28 who sees the chequered flag first, the rookie, and the only girl on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n! Pole position in her first race!”

“That’s P1 Y/n, congratulations,” your race engineer, Pedro, beamed as you crossed the finish line.

“Motherfuck Guanyu is fast mate, we need to watch out for him- oh, and the other Alpine boy that was trying to flirt with me, what’s his name?” you answered. The Prema garage was full of laughter as you outed Oscar.

“Oscar Piastri? No.2,” Pedro chuckled. “He failed to flirt with you?”

“Well, bless him, he tried to,” you chuckled as you parked the car. “He’s cute though.”

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“That’s P6 Oscar, and just to let you know, Y/n Y/l/n has outed you on the radio and on live television saying that you tried and failed to flirt with her,” his race engineer said.

Oscar laughed, finding the situation funny. “My mum’s going to tweet about that.”

“She also called you ‘cute’, if that helps with any bruised ego?”

Oscar’s face lit up under his helmet. “It definitely does,” he chuckled. “Thanks mate.”

“I’d wingman you any time,” he chuckled.

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Clip 3: Prema video

Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy, April.

“Hello everyone,” Robert smiled at the camera. “Today we will be going for a drive, I’d better call Oscar in.”

Oscar sat in the passenger seat and did his belt as they caught up and told the viewers what they’d be watching.

“So, today, you will be joining us for a drive around the Italian countryside,” Rob smiled. “And we will be answering your questions.”

“Let the questions begin,” Oscar added. He pulled one out of the bowl and read it aloud. “Who’s your favourite Prema team member?”

Rob smiled. “That’s hard, I love the whole Prema team so much, but… yeah, that’s hard. Maybe my race engineer, Fred? I get along quite well with him,” Rob giggled as Oscar nodded.

“What?” Oscar laughed.

“I know your favourite,” Rob smirked.

Oscar looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Who?”

“La tua ragazza,” Rob chuckled as Oscar rolled his eyes. “What? It is true! You love her!” (La tua ragazza = your girl in Italian)

“I’ve met her once, mate!” Oscar laughed.

“So you don’t like her? I can ask her out?” Rob deadpanned.

“Well, no, you can't-” Oscar was cut off by Rob’s laughter and he decided to stop trying to fight him about it. Everyone on the team knew that Oscar Piastri was infatuated with you.

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Clip 4: Georgie O’Hara’s deleted youtube video.

Haileybury and Imperial Service College, England.

“Ok, that’s an awful idea!” Oscar yelled over his friends. “They already know you’re the ones doing it!”

“It’s fine! It’ll be fine!” Elijah, a good friend of his, smiled. They wanted to set off the fire alarms again, for the third time that week. Deodorant and stupid teenage boys did not mix, especially when they refused to put it on themselves and waste it on fire drills instead.

Georgie turned to his phone, addressing the viewers "Oscar's a goody-two-shoes, if you couldn't tell."

Suddenly his phone rang from an unknown number, and before he could leave it ring, Anthony (another friend of his) answered. “Oscar Piastri, incoming F2 champion’s phone, how may I help you?”

Oscar laughed, but suddenly stopped when he heard you.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” you chuckled at his friend. “Anyways, can you just ask him to ask Elijah not to do the fire alarm thing between 11pm and 2am? The girls in my room and I are sneaking downstairs to watch a film and we don’t really want to get caught.”

Oscar covered his face and groaned, then took the phone off Georgie. “Hey-hi, Y/n. Yes, of course, we won’t do the fire alarm thing, ever again. Sorry.”

He turned his back as his friends made kissing noises and certain gestures at him.

“All good, thanks Osc,” you smiled. “You and your friends are welcome to join us if you want.”

Oscar could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. “I’ll ask them,” he smiled. He turned to his friends. “Y/n’s inviting us all to a movie, we’re sneaking out tonight,” he informed them.

“I don’t want to-” Anthony started, but Georgie silenced him with a kick to the shin.

“Mate, this is Oscar’s one fucking chance with his girl, shut up,” He scoffed.

“Is that a yes?” You asked over the phone.

“Yes!” they all answered.

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As the night went on, you found yourself getting more and more tired. Oscar was beside you and you could tell how he was trying to play it cool, but failing miserably. You could practically see the way his heart leapt out of his chest when you held his hand. As ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ ended, you squeezed his hand before getting up and letting go.

“Alright, I’ll clean up, everyone else go back upstairs before you get caught,” you whispered. The ‘movie room’ as the students called it (it was technically the staff room but no one really cared) was a mess. Blankets, cups, wrappers and pillows were everywhere. The group slowly shuffled out as you were left with only Oscar. Georgie had forgotten about his camera and it was still recording where he’d put it down to get some shots of everyone watching the film.

“I can help,” Oscar whispered.

You shook your head. “Seriously, you go ahead. They already hate me at this school anyways,” you chuckled.

“Please let me help?” he asked again. You couldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to his puppy dog eyes, could you?

“Fine,” you smiled.

You two chatted quietly as you cleaned up the room, and finally met at the door to leave.

“I really enjoyed tonight-” You started, but you were cut off by Oscar kissing you. His arms wrapped around your waist and your arms wrapped around his neck once the initial shock wore off. You both pulled away after a few seconds. You stared up at him as his usually-blank face turned to one of panic.

“Sorry if that was forward, or-or weird- or-” He started, but now it was your turn to cut him off with a kiss.

He pulled back smiling, and he didn’t move his hands, or try to move away from you. There was a moment of silence. “Can I take you on a date?”

You chuckled. “Yes.”

Oscar was elated.

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Clip 5: Sky sports channel and Prema footage

Circuit de Monaco, Monaco, Monaco, May 22nd.

You were excited as you stepped onto the podium, victorious. It had been a difficult few laps at the end, Guanyu overtaking, then you overtaking, and over and over, but you got the chequered flag first. You were breaking records, breaking barriers as a woman in motorsports. You’d won Monaco, your first time racing there. In the Sprint, and the feature race. You were on top of the world. As you raised your trophy, the crowd cheered and Oscar was cheering the loudest.

You looked to your left, him standing on the podium for the first time this season, and you smiled.

“Feels good, huh?” you smirked.

“Feels great, but I’ll be coming for your step next,” he smirked.

“You wish Piastri,” you scoffed, then uncorked your champagne bottle and sprayed it on him and Zhou.

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Clip 6: Sky Sports channel, Prema footage

Autodromo Nazionale di Monza, Monza, 17th of July, Sprint Race.

“And it’s Y/n Y/l/n into the wall in a bad collision with Liam Lawson, only 2 laps till the end!”

Everything was in slow motion, one second you were in control, the next you were flipping into the wall.

“Red flag, red flag Oscar, huge crash in sector 3, come in, come in,” his race engineer said.

“Who was it?” He asked, slowing his pace.

“Y/l/n and Lawson, straight into the wall.”

“Is she ok? Is she out of the car?” he asked calmly.

“Not yet,” he answered grimly. The Prema garage was eerily silent as they watched the stewards struggle to get you out of the car.

As he came up on sector 3, he saw you. The car was upside down leaning against the barrier, they were putting out the fire. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You and Oscar had been dating for a few months now, and he really liked you. He passed by in horror as he saw that you weren’t out of the car yet. He was getting more and more nervous as the moments went on. He caught sight of Liam. He was out of the car. He beckoned Oscar over and he obliged, letting him hitch a ride back to the pitlane with him as he drove slowly. As they got back to the pitlane, they both jumped out as the race was finally deemed as cancelled, and the boys walked off, waiting for news.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It was a total mistake, my car had mad fucking oversteer and I just hit the throttle too hard, and then she was in the wall,” he answered. “She’s not even out yet.”

“She’ll be ok,” Oscar said, trying to convince himself as well as Liam. “She’s strong.”

Liam nodded, and went off to the RedBull garage with his head held low. Oscar walked into the Prema garage and his mom immediately pulled him in for a hug. Beside her was your parents, looking terrified.

“You’re ok, thank god,” she whispered. She didn’t care about the multiple cameras pointing at them, her son was alright.

“Is there any news yet?”

“They’ve pulled her out of the car,” your dad answered, eyes glued to the screen.

“Is she responsive?” Nicole asked.

“Yes!” You race engineer answered, happy that you were alive. There was a collective sigh of relief throughout the garage. “Complaining about lower back and leg pain, as well as a definite broken arm. She won’t be racing for a while,” he added, his tone becoming more and more sombre. Oscar watched as your mother broke down in your father’s arms, and he felt like throwing up. You wouldn’t be racing, you wouldn’t get to do the thing you loved.

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Clip 6: Prema video

ASST Brianza - Vimercate Hospital, 18th of July.

You woke up in blinding pain a few hours earlier. Everyone had worked so hard to make everything ok, to make you comfortable, but all night all you did was sob. The pain was unbearable in the car, you thought you were going to die, you thought you weren’t getting out of the car. 5 fractured vertebrae, 3 broken ribs, a fractured hip bone, and a broken arm apparently wasn’t a joke. No racing for the rest of the year. Your life was over.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you sat up and pain shot up your back.

“Hey,” Oscar’s soft voice brought you out of your upset, and back into the room. He took your hand. You felt bad, he’d been there the entire time, and honestly, he should probably be at the track already, ahead of today’s race. You’d tried to shoo him but he wasn’t having it, much more in favour of being with you and cluing you in on how your parents reacted to him being your boyfriend. Awkward. “Take your time.”

You nodded, grateful that he was there, then turned your attention to the camera Angelina had brought with her and set up to take a ‘statement’ video. “Hi Prema fans, and my fans. Yesterday was pretty rough, and with a heavy heart I have to tell you that I won’t be able to continue this season in F2. My back was badly damaged yesterday in my collision with Liam, which was a complete accident and not anyone's fault, and I definitely don’t blame Liam. I love racing, and I’ll still be at the majority of the races to support my teammates, and my boyfriend. This is just a very unfortunate event that pulls me out of the game for a while, but I’ll be back. I hope you miss me on track, and just know that I’m alright. Thank you for the support, bye for now, Prema family.”

Oscar wrapped his arms around you and smiled. “I’m the boyfriend,” he added, making you laugh.

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Clip 7: Prema footage

Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, 4th of December

“And Oscar Piastri sees the chequered flag first! Winning a sprint race and the feature race this weekend!”

You jumped up and down beside Chris, his father, as he came into the pitlane. He was the lead of the championship. He was going to win F2. No doubt about it.

The past 5 months had been difficult. You’d been back at school for a while, only now cleared to travel again, but you were happy to be back at the tracks. It felt good to watch Oscar win in person.

Chris wrapped his arms around you as you both celebrated. Oscar’s radio came on.

“God guys, good drive. Looks like Y/n is my lucky charm,” he laughed over the radio. The last races hadn’t gone so well for him, but he was straight back to winning with you here.

You were smiling the whole way to the barricade, but that ended when about 50 people were against your back, pushing violently. Chris and Mark were trying desperately to get them to back off, but they couldn’t stop them. You promised them you’d be ok, but the pain was getting unbearable, and Oscar hadn’t come over yet.

“Guys, move back!” He shouted as he ran over, just finished taking off his helmet. “Make some space!” The team obliged, but he still decided to be dramatic and lift you over the barrier. “You alright?” he asked, but you just wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re incredible Osc,” you smiled. “I love you so much.”

And there it was, out in the open for the first time. Too bad you forgot you both had microphones on.

He smiled wider than you ever thought possible for his face. “I love you too. So much baby,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You should be up here with me,” he added and you nodded, it still being a sore subject. “And you will be. Next year.”

You nodded, grateful for the hope and support he offered you. “Go! Go to your team!” you laughed, pushing him on. Before he let you out of his grasp, he grabbed your waist and stole a sweet, quick kiss.

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Clip 8: Prema footage

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 12th of December

He’d done it. He was the F2 champion. Sadly next year he would only get to be the Alpine F1 reserve driver, which meant no consistent racing, but that was still incredible.

You waited by the barricade as he came in, and he went straight over to you. He pulled his helmet off, then his bandana, and pulled you in for a kiss. The rest of the team ‘ohh’ed and ‘aww’ed but neither of you cared at all. He’d won.

“Congratulations F2 winner,” you smirked, pulling away.

“Thanks baby,” he smiled.

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Post-race interview

“So, how does this feel, Oscar?” she asked.

“It feels amazing, y’know, we’ve all worked so hard at this for the whole year and it’s just really special to have everyone here, especially my girlfriend Y/n. I’m missing her on track, so it’s good to still at least have her in the paddock,” he smiled, and the camera cut to you, beaming up at him.

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Clip 9: Prema footage and Sky Sports channel

Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 19th of March, Sprint 1.

“We’re in the Prema garage,” Oscar explained to the camera in front of him. He was in full Alpine gear, being a reserve driver meant being a marketing machine, but this wasn’t for Alpine, this was for you. “And my girlfriend is about to go and do her first race back since the accident last season. Let’s go interview her about it!” He walked through the garage, searching for you, and finally found you. “Y/n! Any time for an interview?”

You turned to him and smiled. “I always have time for you,” you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close. His grip on you was tight but you didn’t mind. You pulled away and turned to the camera.

“So, how does it feel to be back?” He asked.

“Amazing. I thought my life was over when I was told I wasn’t allowed to race for half a year.”

“And who helped nurse you back to health?” He smirked, batting his eyelashes at you.

“Your mom mostly,” you chuckled. You’d spent the entire off-season in Australia with Oscar and his family, and Nicole had been so considerate and careful about your healing injuries.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Yeah… that’s probably true,” he chuckled. “How do you feel being on Pole?”

“It feels good. We just have to stay quick this season. I didn’t rush my healing just to lose,” you smiled then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve to get in the car now, love you,” you smiled. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed his lips to yours with a ‘good luck’, then let you go.

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“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n is coming in with a bang! A Sprint Pole and a Sprint win! That is a statement, ‘I never left’!”

“That’s P1 Y/n, well done!” Pedro called over the radio as the Prema garage went crazy.

“Thanks for everything guys, great car, great drive-”

“Great driver,” he added.

You pulled into the pitlane and got out of the car, celebrating as they got the photo of you on the car. You ran over to Oscar at the barricade as you pulled off your helmet and balaclava.

“That’s my girl!” he cheered as you pulled him in for a hug. “See? Nothing's changed.”

You pressed your lips to his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m loving this WAG lifestyle,” he chuckled.

You laughed. “It suits you.”

He chuckled. “Alright, you’re being called for the interview. Love you,” he smiled as you walked off, giving your hand a squeeze. You blew him a kiss back.

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Clip 10: Prema video

Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy.

You were laughing with Logan, doing a ‘Who knows who best’ challenge and both of you were failing miserably.

You put the headphones on and the music started, making it impossible to hear him. You watched as the room erupted in laughter, then Logan nudged you to take the headphones off.

“What is the most annoying thing about you?” He asked, holding back giggles.

“I know what you’d say,” you chuckled. “Me and Oscar.”

The room erupted in laughter as he nodded. “Exactly!”

“You’re just jealous,” you chuckled.

“Why? ‘Cause I don’t have a girlfriend?”

“No, because I have Oscar and you don’t,” you shot back, and everyone started laughing again.

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Clip 11: Sky Sports Channel

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 20th of November

“And after a season of domination from the woman in red, Y/n Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first with a staggering 425 points! This F2 season will go down in history!”

You’d done it. You’d done it. You were an F2 champion, and next season you’d be in an F1 car fulltime, racing alongside Oscar, Logan, and Nick. You’d made it.

You jumped out of the car, amazed at your season. It’d been win after win, fastest lap after fastest lap, pole position after pole position. You’d worked so hard.

“You did it baby!” Oscar shouted as you ran over. You jumped into his arms, and let him hold you up. He looked at you like you held the sky up, like you were the greatest thing on the planet. “You’re incredible.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled. “ I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more,” he pressed kisses to any inch of skin he could, more than proud to be yours.

You chuckled as he tickled you with his kisses, before you realised that you needed to go fulfil your duties. He put you down, but before you could leave, he grabbed your waist again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Osc.”

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Clip 12: Sky Sports channel, McLaren footage, and RedBull footage

Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 2023.

“A disappointing result for Oscar Piastri, but an incredible run for Y/n Y/l/n, P1 in her first race! I’m sure he’ll be pleased with that for his long-time girlfriend!”

Oscar was pissed off, but his mood was lifted by your result. You were incredible. He cheered in his own garage, happy for your win. You’d won your first race. Who else did that? The first woman to ever do so.

He was in awe of you.

He exited his garage, ready to see you after your win. He saw you getting out of the car and running straight into the arms of your team and he smiled. He finally caught your eye after some time, and you ran over, wrapping your arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” were the first words out of your mouth. “If I could trade our cars, I would Osc, I really would,” you sighed.

“Don’t even joke about that. Don’t make your first win about me. This is about you, my brilliant, incredible, winner,” he pressed his lips to yours in a short, victory kiss. “I love you, yeah?” “I love you too,” you smiled.

“You were amazing out there,” he smiled.

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Clip 13: McLaren video

Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

“Who is your teammate's favourite person?” Lando asked, then looked at the camera and rolled his eyes. “Oscar’s is Y/n because he’s a traitor.”

Oscar burst into laughter and looked at Lando. “That’s not fair! We started dating as teammates!”

“Oh sure Osc!” Lando sighed, playing up the drama. “That’s what they all say.”

“But it’s the truth!”

“Anyways, moving on from Oscar and his traitor girlfriend, who’s my favourite person Oscar?”

“Max Fewtrell?”

Lando thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Him or my parents or siblings.”

Oscar took another question out of the bowl and chuckled. “What’s the other person’s red flag?”

Little did he know, you’d come in to visit him and were actively sneaking up behind him.

“Yours is your refusal to ever use a hairbrush,” you answered for Lando, and Oscar jumped, making everyone laugh, especially Lando, who fell off his chair. You chuckled and wrapped your arms around Oscar's neck from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Came to say hi,” you smiled, kissing his cheek.

“Came to air out my business online?” He questioned, laughing. He took your hands and led you around his chair, sitting you on his lap. “When did you get in?” he asked, resting his head on your shoulder as Lando tried to compose himself.

“Just now, came straight from the airport,” you nodded, leaning back against him.

“Bad flight?”

“Nah, I was on Max’s jet. He’s offered me to ask you two if you want to go back to Monaco after this weekend with him. I am,” you answered. He nodded, gently playing with your hands as he listened to you.

“Sounds good to me,” he smiled. “Tell him ‘thanks’, yeah?”

You nodded. “‘Course,” you got up to leave but he pulled you down by the arm and pressed your lips together quickly, then let you go. “Love you,” you called after yourself.

“Love you too,” he called back, ready to get back to the interview.

“Can we keep that in?” Ellie, their marketing manager asked.

He shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

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Clip 14: Hattie Piastri’s tiktok vlog

Piastri residence, Melbourne, 2023

“Y/n’s over there with Oscar, and Addie is with May and mum and dad are with Tim over there,” she explained to the camera pointing everything out. In the video you and Oscar were laying on the grass in the setting sun, utterly exhausted from your weekend of racing where you’d gotten p2 and Oscar had gotten p8. His arms were wrapped around you as you lay on top of him, smiling.

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Clip 15: Sky Sports channel, RedBull footage and Nicole Piastri’s instagram

Circuit Zandvoort, Zandvoort, Holland

“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n beats teammate Max Verstappen to first place, and she sees the chequered flag first! What an incredible season this has been for the rookie!”

As you crossed the finish line, you almost felt sick. You’d beaten Max, giving you a lead in the Driver’s Championship. He’d been 10 points ahead. Now, you were 15 points ahead of him.

“That’s P1, P1 Y/n congratulations,” Pedro smiled.

“Thanks Pedro, and thanks everyone, really well done. Car is perfect, thank you all so much!”

“And Oscar’s P9, if you're wondering.”

“When I get my fucking hands on Zak Brown I will rip his fake fucking toupée off for giving him such a shit car,” You groaned. “Great drive guys, thanks.”

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You walked into the paddock as they all cheered both you and Max on. Max had gotten P2, unhappy with not winning, but not mad that you’d won. He saw what you were doing for motorsports all around the world, how much pressure you were under as the first female driver in a long time, and how hard you were working. He wasn’t going to make your life harder by being an asshole off the track too. He gave you a celebratory hug and moved onto his driver’s room, as you stayed out with the engineers, chatting and celebrating with them.

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Nicole Piatri’s instagram live

“Hi everyone, Osc and I are right now, trying to sneak into the RedBull garage to see Y/n,” Nicole explained and behind her, Oscar smiled and put both thumbs up.

“I’m going to be told off for this by Zak, so, sorry Zak. I want to see my girlfriend, my bad,” he chuckled, his apology only half-assed.

Nicole and him continued faffing around the paddock for a while, until Nicole caught your eye through the window. You ran over to the door beside them and let them in, pulling Nicole in for a huge hug as Oscar waited behind her with a wide smile.

He spoke to the live. “Apparently my girlfriend likes my mum better than me-"

You cut him off with a kiss as you laughed at his antics. “Shut the fuck up,” you chuckled. “You’re such a baby.”

“I missed seeing you in the conference,” he shrugged, holding you close as his mum took the phone and documented this moment between the two of you. “I love you,” he smiled.

“I love you too,” you chuckled, kissing his cheek. “P9? Not bad.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled. “P1? Not bad,” he lifted you into his arms making you squeal.

“Osc! Put me down!” You squealed.

“Let me win next time,” he chuckled. “Then I’ll put you down.”

“What do you want me to do? Switch our cars?”

“Ideally,” he chuckled, kissing your cheek and putting you down. “But I guess I’ll settle for watching you be gorgeous on the podium every week.”

“The fans are loving this!” Christian joked as he watched over Nicole’s shoulder, seeing how the chat was going crazy.

You both turned to Nicole with confused faces.

“You’re still filming mum?!”

This live has now been ended by the host.

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Clip 16: Sky sports channel

Lusail International Circuit, Lusail, Qatar

“Oscar Piastri has done the job brilliantly, the Australian driver will see the chequered flag first! Oscar Piastri wins the sprint to take McLaren to the top step once again!”

“That’s P2 Y/n, Oscar P1,” Pedro announced.

“WOOOOO!” You screamed, elated for him. “Fucking legend!”

“I said P2 for you,” he reminded.

“Shut up and be happy for him, just once,” you chuckled, pulling into the pit lane to park. You watched as Oscar got out of the car as you got out of your own car. Immediately, he ran over to you, wrapping you up in his arms as you celebrated together.

“You did it!” You shouted, jumped around in each other's arms. “You’re fucking incredible.”

“You put up a good fucking fight,” he chuckled, smiling like a kid.

“You’re going to look so sexy at the top of the podium,” you smirked and he blushed hard.

“I wish you wouldn’t say stuff like that in public,” he chuckled, then hid his face in your neck as you laughed.

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Post-sprint conference

“So, this is a question for Y/n and Oscar,” an interviewer started. Both of you looked up, exhausted from the late night race. “Does your relationship prohibit you from racing to your full potential? I believe Y/n, you could’ve caught up. Did you give him this win?”

You scoffed, appalled that anyone would have the audacity to ask such a thing. “For fuck’s sake,” you sighed. “No. I couldn’t have. You know how you know that? Because I would’ve if I could’ve. I love Oscar, and I’ve loved him since I was about 14 years old, but that doesn’t mean that I let him win. He’s a ridiculously talented driver, and a fucking genius with strategy. His car is great too. But out there today? That was pure talent. I can love him, and wholeheartedly race him too,” you answered, getting annoyed at the comments like these you two constantly got. “And another thing, I’m getting really fucking sick of the questions about our relationship. Do you really think we’d be together if we couldn’t race each other and not come back to each other and be proud of each other? Seriously? Where is your critical thinking?”

The room was full of whispered conversation as you dropped the last diss, and beside you Oscar was looking at you with huge heart eyes. Anyone could see it from a mile away, he loved you. He chuckled, wanting to add his two cents as well. “Yeah, exactly. The only thing she lets me win in is chess, right?” He looked at you with a smirk and you rolled your eyes.

“You won once, asshole,” you chuckled, pushing his hand off your thigh.

“Then we stopped playing,” he shrugged, a cocky smirk very-present on his face.

“We ran out of time,” you shrugged, feigning innocence.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Sure.”

The tension in the room had been dissolved in the comedic moment, and you were thankful for Oscar’s calm exterior. You moved closer to him on the couch, and he wrapped an arm around you, smiling wide as you pressed a kiss to his hand, the one closest to your face.

---------------------

Clip 17: Drive to Survive

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

“How are you feeling?” Oscar asked, sitting in your driver’s room with you before the race. He knew how worried you were, how much you wanted this. You had to win. You and Max were neck and neck. You just had to get more points than him, starting from P2.

You sighed, standing between his legs and messing with his hair, favouring trying not to think about it rather than talking about it. He grabbed ahold of your waist and pressed his face into your torso, pressing kisses to wherever he could reach, trying to make you laugh.

You chuckled and pushed him away, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m alright, I promise. Just stressed.”

“You won’t be stressed in a week,” he smiled. “We’ll be in Melbourne.”

You smiled, and kissed him again. “We will. Waves and relaxing. Nothing else.”

“Well, and Logan,” he chuckled. “So… ‘Merica and all that,” he smiled as you laughed at his bad joke. He got you down to his lap and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’ve got this, don’t worry.”

“Wow, anxiety cured,” you replied sarcastically, making him laugh.

---------------------

Clip 18: Sky Sports Channel

Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

“And it is an incredible season for the first female in modern F1, Y/n Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first, with a Driver’s Championship 1-2 with her teammate Max Verstappen! This makes her the first female ever to win the F1 Driver’s Championship title! What an inspiration!”

You’d done it. You won your rookie season. You were World Champion. You were a legend.

“WOOOOO!” You screamed as tears rolled down beneath your hemet. “We did it! We did it!”

“We did it!” Pedro screamed. You knew the entire RedBull garage was going crazy right now. “You did it Y/n!”

“Thank you, everyone! This would’ve been impossible without you all! Amazing year! Incredible work!” you beamed.

---------------------

“That’s P6, P6 Oscar,” his race engineer announced.

“Did Y/n get it? Did she win?”

“Yes, your girl is a World Champion,” he smiled.

“YES! YES! THAT’S MY FUCKING GIRL!” he screamed, elated at the news. He knew you could do it. He’d always known you could do it.

He rushed to get to the pit lane, ready to celebrate with you. He jumped out of the car and pulled off his helmet as fast as he could, watching as you ran over to him.

“You did it!” He cheered. “My fucking girl.”

“I did it!” You cried, over the moon. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled.

His eyes filled with tears as his heart swelled with pride. “You’re amazing. I love you so much Y/n.”

Neither of you cared about the cameras around you as you went in for a kiss. You didn’t care about how sweaty and gross you both were, you didn’t care about the grief that the pr team would give you, you didn’t care.

You were a World Champion. He was your everything. You were his everything.

---------------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #mclaren #oscar piastri x fem!reader #f1 fluff

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ithebookhoarder · 11 months ago

Text

(BAU Headcanons) If you fell asleep on them

A/N: So... guess who fell into another fandom? I blame everyone on here and their amazing fics for convincing me I need to give this show and wonderful cast a chance. I may have binged 13 seasons in like a month... oops? I'm also looking at my fav BAU bunch here but I'm open to writing for other characters from the show

Aaron Hotchner

Just like some of the other members of his team, Hotch has a hard exterior that very few people manage to crack through.

If you and he are in a relationship then I can bet you’ve already had to chip away at it, so you’re already pretty intimate with one another. Falling asleep on him is nothing to bat an eyelid at. If anything, he would welcome the opportunity to relax and hold you close to him.

It also gives him an excuse to steal a few moments of sleep himself, not daring to move and wake you from your rest.

He loves holding you close, letting himself listen to the steady beating of you heart as it gently lulls him to become calm enough to shut his eyes.

However, if you weren’t in a relationship or if it happened in front of the others at the BAU then you know he’d immediately react by saying something about ‘work place conduct’.

However, he’s clearly saying it for the sake of it as he’d make no effort to wake you or remove you from him.

In fact, he makes sure to stay still and let you rest peacefully, making sure your neck isn’t bent so you don’t wake up in pain.

He’d also make sure to lay his jacket over the top of you, a clear sign that you are not to be disturbed - under pain of death.

David Rossi

Rossi would be the first to complain if you ever fell asleep on him but it’s all good natured. In fact, he only ever complains about it to you after you’ve woken up and only as a joke between the two of you.

“What am I? Just a pillow to you? Are you trying to say my cooking has made me plump?”

It’s hard to resist his charming smile, especially when he actually is rather comfortable to lean on. His expensive shirts are always soft to the touch, and the cologne you’d brought him last Christmas lingers as you nestle in close.

He always make you feel safe, and that is an honour greater than any he’d ever been awarded.

If it happened in front of the others you know he’d roll his eyes and mutter about the cheek of it all. However, his smile would be enough to tell the others he didn’t mean it.

“I started reading my manuscript and this is what happens… guess that’s one way to leave a review.”

He’d be sure to shoot daggers with his eyes at anyone else nearby who looked like they would wake you up.

He’d also shoot down any possible jokes being made at your expense, his parental nature coming out in full force.

Derek Morgan

This boy would be so smug if you ever fell asleep on him. Like, if you imagine a Labrador’s tail wagging with one of those big dopey grins, then that’s what he is.

He is keen to try and capture the moment with a picture, setting it as his phone background to prove to himself it really happened.

If it happens in front of the rest of the team then you know he is going to keep reminding you and everyone else whenever he gets the chance.

However, you know that for all the bragging and teasing Morgan is actually super touched by the fact you fell asleep on him and he is keen to offer you a place to lay your head whenever you look like you need to take a beat.

He even has a blanket and pillow in his go-bag especially for you.

“Only the best for you, hot stuff.”

He will never complain about it and - considering how much torture and pain we know this man can endure - he is more than capable of handling any cramp or pins and needles he gets as a result of you lying against him.

Eventually, he would take the opportunity to try and sleep as well. With his job and his manic lifestyle, if he gets the chance to close his eyes he knows better than to waste it.

Emily Prentiss

She would be shocked at first, especially if it’s early-on in your relationship. She isn’t really used to public displays of affection and you sleeping with your head on her shoulder is pretty public.

She would stay as still as possible, though, scared of disturbing you or ruining the moment. She’d also probably be panicking internally, unsure what she was supposed to do.

However, she soon takes a breath and relaxes. After all, you look so cute when you’re asleep and she is honoured you feel comfortable enough to relax around her like this.

She doesn’t often get the chance to just sit and be peaceful so she savours the moment you’ve given her.

She’d end up watching you for a while before relaxing and trying to adjust you so that you’re both comfortable.

She would also take the opportunity to be affectionate, loving that she can run her hands through your hair and kiss your head without any fear of being embarrassed or rejected.

After all, we know Emily has a soft centre underneath her tough, bad-ass exterior. She just needs to know she is able to express it.

JJ is such a mom to everyone including you, so is over the moon the first time you fall asleep on her. She welcomes it with open arms, happy to melt into the embrace.

It doesn’t matter if you’ve been together long or not, or if you’re in public. Either way, it feels like a personal badge of honour to be trusted in such a way, whether or not you meant to do it.

She has enough patience not to move a muscle in case she disturbs you and ruins the moment. She knows that if you fell asleep like this then you probably need the rest.

JJ would totally form a blanket cocoon around you to keep you warm and toasty as you sleep, wrapping her arms around you and cradling you close.

She’d smile the whole time, pressing kisses to the crown of your head and gently murmuring in your ear whenever you seem to stir.

“Ssssh, Sleepyhead. It’s ok. I got you. Go back to sleep, honey.”

If it was just the two of you then she’d be sure to try and move you somewhere more comfortable after a while, like the sofa or your bed.

However, if you were in public then she would turn into a full mama bear and threaten anyone who came close or tried to disturb you. She has that angry mom look down to a fine art and has made grown men wither with it.

Penelope Garcia

This beautiful baby angel would be so delighted if you fell asleep against her that she’d probably wake you up by accident after squealing a little too loudly.

“Oh, oh, sorry. Sorry! Go back to sleep. I’m staying as still as a statue, you precious angel, I promise. So you just close your eyes and let me hold you.”

She’d probably manage like five minutes before she moves again and wakes you up, but it was enough time for her to steal a few private photos to commemorate the moment.

They will most definitely be the background on her computer the following morning, and possibly yours too.

She would also be sure to make sure she has a blanket and pillow stashed away for you if you ever felt like taking an impromptu nap again when you weren’t at home.

If you worked at the BAU they’d be kept in her lair - or your private napping room, as she tells you.

They’d also be brightly coloured and super soft, chosen specifically by Penelope to make you as comfortable and as happy as possible, even whilst at the government building.

“Just so you know, I gave them a spritz with this gorgeous lavender mist spray to help you knock right out the moment your pretty head hits the pillow. So, sweet dreams honeybun.”

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer is a precious boy and would be utterly baffled at first if he looked down and realised you had fallen asleep on him.

He would be surprised he hadn’t noticed you drooping against him sooner, or that your breathing had slowed as you fell asleep.

At first he thinks it must be a mistake, immediately trying to ease you off of him. After all, he wasn’t the most comfortable person to sleep on and people are far more likely to find his company irksome rather than soothing.

However, after you start doing it more often he realises that isn’t the case.

In fact, he feels rather proud that you’ve got the point in your relationship where you aren’t afraid to relax around him.

He also learns how not to let it over-stimulate him. It takes some time to train his mind to not think about the possible pathogens that could be passing between you or the way your hair tickles his face. He’s also able to talk to you about positions to curl up in if you ever want to sleep against him again, that he feels more relaxed in.

He’d also totally be happy to tell you all about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is, knowing the sound of his voice helps you settle better than any lullaby.

Masterlist

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #criminal minds #BAU #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #david rossi x reader #david rossi #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan #penelope garcia x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #hotch x reader

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endless-ineffabilities · 3 months ago

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chemical override (6)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I hope you all have found ways to cope after the breakup, but here all your questions will be answered on what went down pre-August! Special shoutout to @just-fics-station @thepurplecrown @clarkysblog @hotdismylife and @sprinklesprinkle888 for sharing your ideas and indulging me with the lovely, crazy discourse!

To everyone, I am so chuffed at how this has become OUR story - our lil self-indulgent Ewan Nation production. You all are aces <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

In the aftermath of the breakup, the reader and Ewan throw themselves into their work, trying (and failing) to avoid any trace of the other. Will they remain this way - former lovers doomed to drift in each other's orbit?

Some time before August

New York City

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden antiques, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot.

The discussion was straightforward enough, never mind the saccharine tone Bruce seemed to be so good at. Aimed at making Ewan feel welcome, coddling him, remarking with awe at his projects thus far. But there was a fakeness to it. Ewan steeled himself, trying to adapt to the style of conversation. After all, if he is in this for the long haul, then he would have to get used to these situations.

Bruce appraised him, leaning back on his leather swivel chair. "How are you with the fantasy genre? All that YA, lovesick stuff the kids eat up so eagerly nowadays? Personally, I haven't got the taste for it, but it always makes bank, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, well, I'm a fan of all movies. I definitely see why the fantasy genre has made such an impact on audiences, especially with the romance element, you know, I get the appeal."

"Well, son, we've got a solid franchise in our hands here. Some adaptation of an elf-human love story, mind you, it sound ridiculous, but you know how it is. And the team seems to be in agreement - you fit the bill for the male lead. The male elf lead - " he almost guffawed at the thought, then collected himself " - hope you don't mind my saying that you've got elvish features yourself. Long nose, long jaw, lanky. The teens are going to eat you up."

"Ah," Ewan smiled curtly, nodding. There was a backhanded compliment if he ever heard one. "Well, sir, I've read the script - at least, the bit that was sent to me - and it looks quite promising. I'd be honoured to - "

"Of course, of course!" Bruce exclaimed in pleasure, cutting Ewan off mid-sentence. "And there's the case of your leading lady, and this all boils down to chemistry as you know. Our top contender is that Jenna Ortega girl from the Netflix show, you know her?"

Ewan nodded, well aware. He's seen her work, and thinks that she is a top actress of her generation, but leave it to Bruce to reduce her to being that girl from the Netflix show.

"Yes, she's a very talented actress," Ewan replied.

Bruce hums in agreement, head bobbing as a smirk materialises on his face. "Think she's a looker?" he said openly, without shame.

Ewan laughed nervously, his words caught in his throat.

Bruce, characteriscally oblivious to the discomfort of others, carried on. "I only ask because we're going to need you two to be pretty chummy with each other when you jump on this project. It's kind of a condition of the whole thing, but really nothing to concern yourself with." He waved a hand in the air, his proposition barely carrying any weight in his mind. But Ewan was catching on, and he started to develop a dislike about the whole deal.

"What do you mean?" Ewan asked.

"It's pretty common in this business, son. There's a reason why young, new actors like yourself opt to remain unattached so to speak, so they're always open to a PR arrangement or, you know, just so their - your - hoards of fans would think they got a chance with you," Bruce explains lazily. "In this case, since you and Ortega are, as I said, unattached, getting you two together would fuckin' do wonders for our movie."

Our movie, he said, convinced that Ewan was all in, because why would any young actor refuse such a golden opportunity? Franchises like this can set up an entire mainstream Hollywood career.

Ewan thought that he wasn't unattached. Granted, his date with you was yet to happen, but he already felt bound to you. He wished you were the one tapped to be his love interest. Very little acting would be needed there. Maybe he might even be inclined to go along with the idea of selling the relationship, using it for publicity for the film, but even that made him uneasy.

The industry offered a lot of privileges, but more often than not, they come at a cost.

"Sir, I - "

"Bruce."

"Right, sorry. Bruce, I have to tell you that I'm not exactly unattached."

"Got a partner?"

Ewan actually found himself smiling at the thought of you being called his partner. His first easy smile since entering this office. "Yes, she's an actress herself," he agreed.

"I heard of her?" Bruce asked with obvious disinterest. You were but a wedge in his flawless plan.

"She's kind of a new talent like me, but she's brilliant. She plays Alyna Rivers in our show."

"Ah her," Bruce loosened up a little. "I get it, she's a piece."

Ewan cleared his throat loudly, his jaw clenching on instinct. "So, like I said, I'm with her. I'm sorry but this whole PR arrangement with Jenna wouldn't work."

"Look, kid, I want my movie to do well, alright? I got a lot invested here. This PR thing has proven to be highly bankable time and time again. If you don't trust me, I can ask the team to show you the data on all that. It's a lot of boring numbers, but shit, the numbers are never wrong."

"I don't need to see - "

"If you wanna be with your girl, you can, but you just gotta learn to hide it. Sweep it under the rug, you know. Don't canoodle in public, you crazy kids," Bruce offered, like that made things any better.

"You want me to hide my relationship?"

"Hey, now, come on. Word gets around. Isn't your girl also doing this exact same thing with Jacob Elordi?"

"Not anymore, I don't think," Ewan clarifies, "and that was... that was hardly anything. They weren't obligated to do it. It just worked by chance because they were both single for a time."

"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to." Bruce clicked his tongue before making his next point. "So you see how it works, your thing with Ortega won't be any different."

"Do I have a choice?" There it is, the defining factor.

Bruce smiled slowly. The calculating and menacing air about him intensified, and it was obvious he was not there to be Ewan's friend.

"It would be stupid to refuse something like this, kid."

Ewan's blue eyes flashed in return. None of this was ideal, but his nan raised him well, and he knew better than to falter on his values in times of trial.

"Sir, what's stupid is if you ask me to hide my real relationship for the sake of mere publicity for a film."

"Stupid you say?" Bruce sneered, having already discarded Ewan in his mind, his fragile ego bruised. "What a shame."

There wasn't much to say after that. Bruce was clearly not disinclined to reveal the ice that settled in his veins, and it dawned on Ewan that it had always been the case. There was no true hospitality here.

For bigwig casting director-slash-execs like Bruce, this was a transaction. And Ewan was not about to put what he has, or what he could have, with you on the line.

There has to be another way to advance his career. If not bigger productions, then at least those with less domineering producers.

"That is a shame," Ewan said, getting up from his seat. "I won't waste any more of your time, sir. Thank you for considering me."

Bruce's eyes darkened even further. "You're actually refusing me? For some girl?"

Another genuine smile formed on Ewan's face at the thought of you. Some girl.

But you're not just some girl. He nodded without a trace of doubt in his mind, before reaching out to shake Bruce's hand. "If you don't mind, sir... I have to go and see my darling."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Near the end of August

Los Angeles

The modern space sported a minimalist yet rustic feel, the interiors a blend of sterile white and sleek wooden surfaces. Very LA, as they say. The windowed walls offered plenty of light, as well as precious views of the valley below.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Donna," you greeted Ewan's publicist as she ushered you in her LA office.

"No problem at all, sweetheart," she said. "Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea? Ewan always has his coffee with way, way too much sugar. Mind you, if that kid wasn't active and boxing all the time, I'd be worried for his health."

You smiled fondly at her genuine concern. "Don't even mention the cigarettes."

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed, settling down on the chair across from you. She could have sat down at her desk, making the meeting more official, but Donna's always had a friendly and open way about her. "So, my sweet, how's your new movie coming up?"

You respond eagerly. The dialogue flowed freely, talking about your film and the lukewarm reception of season 2 of House of The Dragon. And finally, Ewan.

"I really thought he would get the Greta Gerwig film," you said. "Everyone said he was perfect for it. I think Greta herself had nothing but praises for him when they met on Zoom."

She sighed thoughtfully, "I thought so too. And, theoretically, he did have that one almost booked up. But there was an issue with one of the producers, which - I don't even want to get into that."

You shook your head, catching on whom she hinted at. "Donna, I heard... well, it didn't go too well in New York, didn't it? Ewan told me about it but... if you can tell me more, I just want to understand why - "

"Sweetheart," she offered a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes, "you should talk about this with Ewan."

"I tried. But he wouldn't budge. Mallory told me... that it might have been because of me that he didn't get the role? And also why he's struggling to get roles now? Donna, I... I can't have that."

It took some time for her to formulate a response. She didn't want to step in something that's none of her business. Your relationship with Ewan is yours. But when his career is on the line, she supposed that she needed to have some say in that.

"He met with this top producer in New York. This real old money Hollywood guy. For decades, he's built careers for the greats, you know - Pitt, DiCaprio, Theron, and whatnot. There was a franchise project practically offered to him on a plate, but Ewan refused, because a non-negotiable was that he would have to hide you in favour of a PR arrangement with his leading lady."

You swallowed, the weight of the truth making itself clear. "Couldn't he have just done the movie without that?"

"You would think," she grimaced, "but some producers... when they want something, they have to get it. And well, Bruce wasn't lying, that would have sold the movie well."

"I thought we were past this," you expressed sadly. "I understand how PR relationships work. Just recently, I found myself kind of in the middle of one. But there was no pressure, it wasn't forced on us, and it was meant to be all in good fun."

"I know, sweetheart," she insisted, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "Bruce is an outlier now. Most of the time you do get lucky, with an all-around supportive production team, just like with your project with Elordi."

You hummed in agreement on that positive note, but your mind kept drifting back to Ewan.

Donna continued, wrapping up her story, "but Bruce is still here, and he still has a lot of power. But you know, it'll be fine. Ewan's got such a huge fanbase and so much talent that it'll only be a matter of time before something else knocks on his door."

You wanted to share her sense of optimism, but something ate at you. What else will Ewan have to sacrifice just to be with you? This was his dream, his one dream, and you were standing in the way. How much longer before he is offered another project but he refuses to take it for your sake? Your thoughts blurred together, bordering on irrational, but you couldn't help it.

All you could picture was the unabashed sincerity on his face, that sense of wonder, when he told you that acting had always been his dream.

Being tied down to you, this early in his career, would surely only hurt him. And you don't think you're worth it.

"Ewan loves you, sweetheart. Anyone with eyes can see that," Donna said after a while, heeding the storm brewing in your expression.

He loves you. It was true.

Less than a month in, and you've already found yourself with a love that you've never felt before. And perhaps never will again.

And that was the problem.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Late September

The podcast moderators are overly welcoming, if not a little loud for Ewan's taste.

The BBC podcast is called Loose Ends, and it's one of the first things Ewan agreed to take on upon returning to England.

He had wanted to head straight home to Derby, to bury himself in his heartache and bitterness, but the team for the show tapped him for a couple more promotional stints, riding on the high of the season finale. And who better than Ewan to offer to the media, the undeniable fan favourite.

Clad in an old gray shirt and blue jeans, people would think he just rolled right out of bed. He didn't really have the motivation to put in more effort. The only striking thing about him is his newly bleached head of hair, supervised by his stylist for a photoshoot a few days ago.

It was ironic, the timing of such a change. Ewan knew that if word got out that you dumped him, he would never hear the end of the joke of that being the reason for his hairstyle change, typical of all heartbroken sods.

Everyone bursts into laughter when he tells them about his mum's reaction to his nude scene. It feels like going through the motions, and he must have been so out of it, so forlorn, that his team prepared an outline for him prior to the interview. The questions and answers all pre-agreed.

Make them laugh. React as required. Remember to speak when spoken to. The mantra goes on in his head.

And don't think about her.

An impossible task, worsened when a moderator goes off script and asks, "Now it wasn't me who saw this, as I'm not on social media myself, but one of our interns did mention that you ventured into Instagram recently? Is that true?"

Oh fuck.

"Mmm, yeah, I guess," Ewan laughs nervously, his hand massaging the back of his neck in a self-soothing motion.

"And your first post went viral? What can you tell us about that? Our listeners would love to know."

"Uhhhm - " He remembers that the broadcast is live, and he can't exactly ask them to edit this part out, so he quickly settles for something indirect. Inconclusive. Safe. " - did it go viral? I'm not too sure how that thing works. I haven't used any kind of social media before."

"Apparently it did! And it had to do with the subject featured in that photo, Ewan. Your costar - "

"Mmm," Ewan stops him there, "didn't you say that you don't use Instagram?"

"No, I think I'm too old!" The moderator laughs.

"It's insane, that whole thing," Ewan shakes his head. "I don't know how to handle it. I'm logged off most of the time."

"Oh, you log off?"

"Yeah, yeah, helps me keep my focus, you know. Keep calm and all that."

"It can get frivolous, can't it?"

Ewan hums in agreement, and thankfully, the moderator moves on to his last question. One that does not breach the subject of you.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Another day means yet another media stint for Ewan, this time for Now TV.

Still in London, his stylist Davey and the rest of the team prepare him for a day of brief interview clips, to be posted on the social media pages of the company.

Davey had half-joked about Ewan needing even more concealer than usual, the shadows under his eyes having significantly deepened after the breakup.

Some of his team have gotten wind of what happened. They would curiously ask about you, how often Ewan keeps in touch with you while you're on set...

You must be on FaceTime everyday!

Is it hard to be doing long-distance so soon?

Do you miss her? Is that why you're not getting any rest?

...but Ewan would only laugh uncomfortably, dismiss it by bringing up another topic or shifting the attention to someone else, or excuse himself to go for a smoke.

He'd been drowning himself in cigarettes and caffeine during the day, pint after pint in the nighttime. Aimless.

He is coping. He knows how it must look, but he deserves this. He deserves to drift for a while. It's the only thing he can do to keep himself from jumping on the next flight to Atlanta and begging for your hand back.

You said you love him. You did. He hangs on to it like a beacon in a storm. No matter how pointless it may seem, with you choosing someone else over him.

Work is becoming something of an anchor, something that keeps him from spiralling. He's an actor, and he has always wanted to be an actor. People now have expectations of him, and he will answer the call.

The interview session begins with generic questioning, stuff he's answered before on several occasions.

How special is the bond between dragon and rider?

What is a funny moment from set that you can share?

How similar are Aemond and Daemon?

All safe. He's proud of himself for not breaking mental clarity thus far. You're in the back of his mind, dormant as a memory, and not something looming darkly over him. For a while, at least.

But then he is asked, If you could invite any 5 people to a Ewan Mitchell dinner party, who would you pick?

"Matthew McConaughey - "

You.

" - Bruce Lee. I think they could strike up an interesting conversation - "

Your name echoes in his mind, and he can't control it.

" - Andrea Riseborough. She's just a chameleon, like in any role she undertakes -

You have great taste. Even if you would make him eat spicy food again, he'll take it. He'll endure anything for you.

He's stumped for a second, lump in his throat, and his effort in avoiding you leads him to mention someone who will always be a comfort to him.

" - Maybe my nan, because I miss her -

Your name. He has to say your name. Who else? Think of someone else.. but who else? Who would be better?

" - and then, another person. Let's make it from the show... it would be Alyna Rivers."

"Oh really?" The interviewer asks. She's not really meant to respond in this instance, but she knows that the fans would go crazy about any mention of you or your character, so why not jump on this opportunity? "Can you tell us why you chose her?"

"Uhhm, well, she's just an amazing character, you know, fiercely loyal, beautiful, tenacious," Ewan replies easily, "so yeah, she would make for good company."

It is obvious that he is describing you just as much as he does Alyna Rivers, and no doubt, the fans will catch on to this detail.

Later, he's asked about his favourite part about season two, and he duly answers, "Seeing more of Aemond and Vhagar's bond and how that perhaps have gotten stronger. Aemond has definitely reined her in, after the accident at Storm's End."

Then, "There are some new additions to the show. Do you have a particular favourite?"

Another obvious piece of bait. And he takes it, he doesn't care anymore. What's the use of denying the truth?

"A favourite new character? Oh, well, uhmm... I really do like Alyna, and I think I've said before that Aemond and her are quite similar in a sense that they both know what they want and how to achieve it. It's just a shame they're on opposing sides, because if those two get together... " he trails off, leaving it up to the audiences to fill in the rest of the thought.

And they eagerly do. The clips where Ewan mentions Alyna get the most traction, flooded with comments that more or less talk of the same thing -

We know why you chose Alyna, Ewan. We know your ways.

He could have said Alys. Or Gwayne. Or even the ghost of Daeron ffs. But nooooo.... it's Alyna Alyna Alyna 😮‍💨

I wonder if she's there behind the scenes

yeah shes definitely lurking in the background!

Aemond and Alyna better have at least a scene together in season 3!!!!!

Someone kidnap Ryan Condal and make him write this

Ewan doesn't see any of it. Not that he's missing out, because he soon feels the need to call his younger cousin to ask her how to turn off his notifications on Instagram.

Day in and day out, his one single post gets dozens of new comments and likes, a brutal reminder of what he's lost. He could just delete it, and get rid of his profile entirely, but he hates to imagine the discourse that would follow.

All the invasive allegations and rumours. So he leaves it be. It makes no difference to him now. Let people believe what they want.

To his chagrin, he finds himself scrolling on his home page once in a while. The addictive element to it was true, and for him, it's exacerbated because the things he sees are often related to you.

Photos of you from fanpages and news accounts. Ones where your friends have tagged you. It's a toxic habit, looking through it all, but he can't help himself.

Then one day, as he's slouched on the seat in his London apartment, phone propped on his knees, he sees a cutout photo of his face on the corner of the screen. He clicks on it, and it's an image of him interposed among different posts. Posts which he apparently liked.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he cusses at himself, reading the caption.

Boyfriend lurking? - Ewan Mitchell may play a formidable TV villain, but in real life, he's just like us. Click on the link in bio to see his series of liked posts!

Dread takes root in him, followed by self-loathing. Why couldn't he just keep off this bloody thing? He takes to the comments to see what he has allegedly liked on accident and it's predictably photos of you - you at a premiere, stills of you as Alyna, and even, heavens fucking forbid, a behind the scenes shot of you getting pretty close with Jacob Elordi on the set of your film.

He vividly remembers seeing that last one, because he went on a bender after coming across it.

Cursing himself and his wayward, sticky fingers, he exits the app and deletes it from his phone.

Whatever goes on there, whatever people might leave on his profile, he washes his hands of it.

He calls up several of his mates, asking them if they want to come over for a few drinks.

"Again, Ewan?" one of them exclaims. "C'mon, you gotta take a breather, mate."

"I don't need a breather." I need her.

"Ewan - "

His composure breaks, all his damned frustrations rising to the surface, and he confesses, "I wonder if she thinks about me."

"Hang in there, mate. We're coming over."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

October

The director finally yells a satisfied, "Cut!"

It's only taken a good twenty-something takes for you and Jacob to nail a challenging scene. You had been on a roll since the beginning of the shoot, the last few weeks seemingly a breeze on paper, though it's a constant struggle to keep it together.

You've had to quell your internal dialogue so it does not stray to him. His smile. The feel of his skin against yours. His way of subtly picking up on details, and doing sweet things that surprise you as a result.

But you received word just before the scene that a few of your friends have come to visit, waiting back at your trailer - Phia, Fabien and his girlfriend, Bella.

And so, as if on instinct, Ewan is all you can focus on, every repressed memory of him rushing in like a tidal wave.

Do they know? What could you possibly say to justify what you did? You can only hope he took on that project, to give you a bitter sense of vindication.

It's the only thing that keeps it all the bay, the only thing that keeps you from jumping on the next flight to England and grovelling at his door.

Phia has her arms wrapped around you the moment you open the door to your trailer, loudly squealing, "I missed you!"

You sink into the hug, comforted by her presence.

As well as the fact that she represents some connection to Ewan.

Phia, Helaena. Helaena, Aemond. Aemond, Ewan.

It's a sick game to play, but it's what you have.

"Hey, yous," you hug Fabien and Bella in turn. Not long after, you're all lounging on director's chairs right outside your trailer, enjoying a bit of sun.

"How's our big Hollywood star?" Phia quips, her lips curling in her trademark pleasant upturn.

"Hardly a star," you shake your head fondly. "More of an indie darling."

"Of course, of course," she relents, before going on a monologue about how she's been keeping tabs on your project, how she just adores the costume designer whom she spoke to at length while you were working, and how the rest of the cast is rooting for you.

The rest of the cast.

"Ah, are they?" you ask, making a conscious effort to not simply blurt out his name. What does he think? Has he mentioned you at all?

Do they know?

Do they secretly hate you for what you did?

"Mhmm, right Fabs?" she says.

"Oh, definitely." Fabien agrees right away.

"How's your film? Are you done shooting in Philly?" you ask him.

"Just about done, but I think we're doing some final reshoots next week. I'm just glad my girl's here to visit," he slings an arm around Bella, who smiles and leans closer to him.

You smile at the sight, but it visibly falters. Ewan could be visiting you on set right now, just like Bella with Fabien, if you hadn't fucked it all up.

They notice.

"Love," Phia sighs, her tone softening. "I just want you know - we want you know - we're here for you, okay? No matter what you went through with... " A pause. Like saying his name would open up the floodgates.

Your gaze falls to your lap in shame. You pick on invisible lint on your trousers. Bite your lip. Breathe deeply.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

"So you guys know, huh?"

"Well, more or less," Phia says. "I just spoke with... Ewan... recently. He's back in Derby for the time being, and he's - "

"He's a bit rough," Fabien says firmly. He's not taking sides here, but he's heard from Ewan, and he feels the need to have his mate's back. "Look, I don't want to pry, but what happened? It seemed like you guys were doing so well together!"

"You don't have to tell us," Phia adds, shooting Fabien a look. "But if you want to, we're here to listen. We love you both and we just want to help, love."

You feel your eyes welling up. Leave it to Phia to be oh so sweet. You can't lie to them, you don't want to. Even if you did, they would see right through it.

Your friends know you too well.

"I... I miss him."

Phia squeezes your hand, and the whole story is about to spill out of you when you hear your name being called.

It's your assistant Clara, letting you know you're needed back on set.

You swallow back tears, standing on your feet, trying to maintain enough composure so you can grant yourself access back to your character.

"Go do your thing, superstar," Phia smiles comfortingly. "We'll be here when you're ready."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

November

"I'd like to propose a toast," Tom declares out loud in the empty pub, "to Ewan, Hollywood's new elf... Lord? Prince? Ah sod it, cheers!"

Round the table, Ewan, Fabien, Luke and Elliott all raise their pints with a collective, "Hear, hear!"

The pub has been cleared out for the lads, thanks to a favour called in by the twins, with the owner being their gym buddy and good friend.

"Thank you," Ewan replies, smirking. "I am your new elf prince, address me as such."

"Your ears have never been pointier, mate," Luke quips.

After a month of moping back home in Derby, or recovering as Ewan prefers to put it, he got a call from his manager telling him that the offer from Bruce still stands.

Apparently, the production team for the movie still had him tapped as the prime choice for the lead. After observing his audience metrics and overall viability, they decided that the movie would fare the best with him in it.

They had planted some half-baked announcements in the media, stating that it was Ewan against Joseph Quinn and Manny Jacinto for the role, and the fan reaction veered in Ewan's favour by a landslide.

Even though Bruce had an unsavoury word or two to say about him, he was willing to work past it, so long as Ewan would be more amenable to his demands.

After careful deliberation, Ewan chose to throw caution to the wind, and accept the role. So what if he has to pretend to have a real-life romance with Jenna? This is what you wanted.

"I'm glad you finally came out to see us, mate," Fabien says. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, fuck's sake. Remind us never to break your heart! That was tough to witness, you hunkerin' down out there all mopey and whatnot," Elliott laughs.

"Mmm." Ewan takes a swig of his beer to hide the wince he couldn't hold back. His friends, and most of the cast know by now, not in too much detail, of what went down between the two of you.

A typical short-lived romance of two actors. A summer fling. Most of them would look back and only see it as that.

Even though it was so much more. Even though Ewan still recalls how warm and soft and beautiful you felt as you whimpered underneath him, the loss of you as painful as getting hit by a freight train.

The liquor helps. Burying himself in work helps. Denial... well, that certainly helps the most.

When he goes out to the back garden for a smoke break with Fabien, he tricks himself into believing it's mere curiosity that compels him to say, "Phia mentioned that you guys went to Atlanta."

Fabien is rendered off guard, because he knows what's coming. "Yeah, we did. Bella came with us too. She was visiting me on set," he says, measuredly.

"Mmm." A long drag, a flick of ash towards the ground, an unaffected shrug - and eventually, with as impassive of a tone as he can muster, Ewan asks, "So how is she?"

Fabien smiles knowingly. "She's doing great. Her film's looking pretty good." He's privy to the truth, after he and Phia managed to gently coax it out of you over several martinis at a hotel bar in Atlanta. But he doesn't think it up to him to reveal that to Ewan, out of respect for your privacy.

While he might not share your sentiment, he thinks it's not in his place to tell Ewan that you basically lied for his sake.

But that doesn't mean he won't drop a helpful nugget or two.

"You know, I don't exactly know what's going on... but her and Jacob came across as nothing more than friends."

Ewan's hand freezes mid-air, the cigarette inches from his lips. He loathes the sense of hope that immediately bloomed in his chest. He's so bloody easy. One miniscule hint, and his delusions break through the wall of indifference he worked so hard to build.

"She said she has feelings for him," Ewan stresses, trying to convince himself. What was the fucking point of all this... this pain... if you never did?

"Hey, mate, I dunno," Fabien puts his hands up, "just telling you what I saw."

"It doesn't matter." It does. "She ended it." He wants you back, he will always want you back. "It's better this way."

"Is it?"

Ewan doesn't answer. He doesn't know how to, without grossly embellishing the truth.

Fabien watches his friend, sensing his hesitation as he averts his gaze. One thing becomes clear to him - you and Ewan are far from being over.

So he says, "She misses you, you know."

Ewan regards him with a stony look, one that slowly softens to reveal the broken boy inside. For but a moment, before he clears his throat and throws the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

"Let's head back inside."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

December

You're back in London, as production for your film is paused for the upcoming holiday season.

Work is supposed to be the last thing on your mind, but it just so happens that your manager has you booked for a chemistry read for a yet undisclosed film.

Phia came over to your apartment, insisting that she help you get ready. When you asked how she found out about your audition, she was quick to say that she was up for the role as well but didn't think it was right for her.

"Why not?" you ask, as she hovers over you, patting blush on the apples of your cheeks.

"Oh, you just get a feel for these things."

"Phi, it's just a chemistry read," you say, when she reaches for the mascara. "I don't need to get all dolled up for this."

She gasps, "Oh, but this is showbiz, darling. We always have to put a face on."

"Fine," you relent. "Do your worst."

The makeup she ends up doing on you is minimal, but it enhances your features just the right amount. You rush through your final preparations, folding up the script sample you were given and stuffing it in your purse.

Phia stands out on your balcony, in the middle of a call. The window screen is slightly open, so you hear snippets of the conversation as you walk by.

"Is he ready?" she asks. Who's he? You assume it's the guy you are doing the read with.

You don't know about him, but you are ready, so you stick your head out to say, "I gotta go, Phi."

"Oh!" She startles a little, angling her phone away. "Already?"

"Yeah, the read's at 4, I believe. Just lock the door when you leave, 'kay?"

She hurriedly whispers something to her phone, presumably ending her call. "I'll actually head out with you," she grins. "My work here is done anyway."

"Any plans for the night?"

She shrugs, "Might meet with Tom and Martha."

"Oh, why don't I meet you guys after my thing?"

"Uhhhm," she chews on her lip, thinking. Under her breath, you barely hear her mumble, "... hoping you'd be busy."

"What?" A restrained chuckle escapes you, confused as to why she's being so coy.

"Nothing," she tilts her head. "We can meet if you'd like."

The weird exchange is out of your mind when you arrive at the casting agency. You run the scene through in your head as you walk in the building, up the elevator, down the long hallway.

It's a heartfelt scene, if not a little tense, a dialogue between reunited ex-lovers.

Your manager Polina and publicist Mallory greet you at the doors, swiftly briefing you before directing you in.

"They're waiting, just walk right in, doll," Polina says.

"Okay, wish me luck!" You have your hand on the door handle when Mallory strangely remarks, "Don't hate us, sweetheart!"

"Why would I - "

"Go, go," Polina guides you in, then shuts the door behind you.

The office sports an spacious and open layout, with plenty of natural light streaming through large windows. The primary workstation is partially hidden behind a subtle partition. You see silhouettes of a few people behind it, so you walk down that way.

The figures reveal themselves soon enough - the casting agents you recognise as Patrick and Amie, sitting in front of the actor you're meant to read with.

A range of emotion washes over you, but you don't even have time to reckon with them. The casting agents divert your attention from Ewan, as they approach you with wide smiles in greeting.

"So nice to finally meet you!" Amie croons. "Take a seat. You two already know each other, of course. Between us, there won't really be a question of chemistry here."

"Right?" Patrick adds, looking between you and Ewan. "The fans sure think so, and we have to say we already agree."

"So just give us a minute to set up," Amie says. "Then we'll start."

You smile stiffly, settling down on the opposite end of the couch. You keep your gaze straight, trying to keep your attention on Patrick as he sets up the camera. Your heartbeat races the entire time, and you feel your hands getting clammy.

"They're all in on it," you hear Ewan say, prompting you to finally look at him directly. You take him in hungrily, admiring his outline, ever so handsome with his Targaryen-blonde hair and black leather jacket.

A weak "Mmm?" is all you can muster.

"Our teams, Tom, Phia... they set us up. Tom came over and I overheard him on the phone with Phia."

"Oh," you mumble. He doesn't even spare you a glance, leaning on the armrest on his side of the couch. He looks as if he'd rather be anywhere but here, next to you, and it hurts.

It's what you deserve.

"Is this not a real chemistry read?" you ask meekly.

"I suppose it is," he laughs humourlessly, "but it's not a coincidence that you and I just happen to be the only ones scheduled for today." He turns to you, giving you a critical sideways glance. "Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"I... I can leave if you want - "

"Mmm," his brows furrow, "you do seem to be good at that."

You look away. He is not being fair, but you weren't neither, that wretched night back in September.

And he is making you pay for it now.

But then you hear him speak in a softer tone, "Stay."

Stay. When you look at him once more, his attention is entirely on you, arm outstretched on the couch like he just tried to reach for you but decided against it.

Stay, he asked. So you do.

It's what you should have done, months ago.

"Okay, guys. Whenever you're ready," Amie says. She and Patrick take their seats in front of you, with the camera on a stand between them.

The script crinkles on your lap as you hold it with shaky fingers. "It's been a while," you read out your opening line.

The dialogue plays out twisted and ironic, now that you know who your scene partner is.

"Hardly," Ewan responds in character. "I feel like no time as passed."

"Feels like a lifetime."

He pauses, then sighs, "Do you even miss me?"

"How... how can you even ask me that?"

"How can I - "

"Why didn't you... why didn't you fight for me?" your voice breaks, the lines hitting a bit too close to home.

"You're a fucking hypocrite," he spits with venom. "You weren't exactly giving me anything to fight for."

"I did it for us. I did it all for us." If you didn't feel like crying at the weight of the scene, you would have rolled your eyes at the similarities.

"Like I said - nothing to fight for."

"Nothing? So you're telling me I was nothing to you."

"No," he levels you with an icy look, "you were everything to me. Everything. But you left me behind, and for what? So you can run off with the rebel sect?"

"The mission needed me. You wouldn't understand." You feel a sense of relief when the sci-fi elements roll in, otherwise you might have given in to your emotions and sobbed right there on the damn couch.

"I needed you," Ewan says, eyes not leaving yours. "I needed you and you abandoned me, just like that."

"And are you not better for it? When I left, did they not make you General?"

"See, that is the difference between you and I," he says coldly. "I wouldn't have traded what we had for anything - no position, no amount of wealth, no glory... I would have chosen us every time."

"Aaand cut!" Patrick jokes, effectively breaking the tension.

The two of you have unconsciously drifted closer, now only a foot part. Ewan does not drop your gaze, watching you closely. You see his eyes flit down to your parted lips, and he leans in almost imperceptibly.

"Alright, how about we go one more time?" Amie says, diverting your attention. "Give us a different take, and then that's it!"

Ewan settles back on his end of the couch. When he reads his lines again, his tone is harsher and he no longer meets your eyes.

Patrick and Amie commend you both afterward, singing praises about your acting abilities. Ewan is polite as always, blushing and grateful, but he practically dashes out of the door when the meeting finishes.

You're left standing with Amie, as Patrick has taken to his laptop to file the footage.

"The way he looks at you," she sighs dreamily, referring to Ewan. "You'd think the sun shone out your arse, doll."

"He... he was just in character," you disagree. "He's a good actor, as you know."

"Yeah, I mean, he nailed the part's rancour perfectly. But his eyes - oof - you've got a good one there."

Oh. Of course they would still assume you and him are together.

How desperately you want it to be true.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

An hour later, you've just sent Phia a text saying - You owe me. Where do I meet you guys?

But you hear a knock on your apartment door. If you didn't buzz anyone in, it can only be a neighbour or someone the doorman recognised.

Someone familiar to you.

And it's him.

"Ewan?"

"I need to speak with you."

You step aside so he doesn't linger at your doorway. He walks past you, a welcome if not unexpected presence in the room.

You can't decipher his expression, his gaze angled downward as he leans against your kitchen counter.

When the silence becomes almost deafening, you laugh awkwardly, about to make some silly remark on whether he is still in character. But he doesn't let you diffuse the tension.

"I want you," he blurts out without warning. "God help me, I still want you. I think I might have a fucking problem because how can I... after what you did - " A momentary glance of betrayal, but you see the spite clear in his eyes. " - but I do. I can't get you out of my system."

"I'm sorry - "

"I don't need that," he says sharply. "I don't need your sorry. I need you. I need to have you, and maybe this way, I'll satisfy whatever pointless desire I still have in me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying - I'm asking - will you let me have you?"

"Ewan, I don't under - "

"I'm saying that we should sleep together," he says bluntly, and it feels like the rug has been pulled from under your feet, "but only just. You won't be mine, and I won't be yours."

"You're kidding."

He shakes his head, before adding, "Don't worry. It'll be our little secret. To the rest of the world, I'll have a different girlfriend anyway."

His words register, along with the bitter ache at his words, that you won't be his, he won't be yours. This is purely for pleasure. There used to be love here, and now he just craves the comfort your body allows.

You'll be using each other.

You should refuse. This is not healthy; this is not how you move on. Can you even go back to being good friends after this? But also - what have you got to lose?

What, except for him, and for good this time?

What, except everything?

"So what do you say - " He closes in on you, and with every bit of malice intended, the name no longer possessing the sweetness it once held, he sneers, "- darling?"

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @onlyrealjoy (continued ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well well well... the transition from friends to lovers to strangers to angsty FWBs sure is a slippery slope!

The time jumps are so we get through the moping quicker! It's mostly back to the regular shenanigans in the next part. Only, you know, angst-ridden. But you hurt Ewan, reader. *wags finger* Don't say you didn't expect this switch! Tsktsk

So what now - will you accept this arrangement? Will things ever be truly okay? Part 7 is going to be hot and hilarious and stupid and messy, just as the doctor ordered.

Let's hash it out in the comments, shall we? 🗡💕

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #chemical override #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader

714 notes · View notes

sunsburns · 5 months ago

Text

naked in manhattan

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader / implied art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you’re just hours away from a flight that will change your career forever—one that will take you to london, england, for the 2012 olympics, a milestone you never thought you’d reach. thrilled yet trembling with nerves, you find yourself at the hotel bar, celebrating alone. it does not help when you run into art donaldson and… his wife?

—or: you and tashi rekindle an old flame

word count: 6.9k

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, semi-public sex (a gym at the middle of the night so idk if that counts), mid-challengers movie (a year after the atlanta scene with tashi and patrick), angst with no comfort, fingering, homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, no use of y/n, old situationship best described in terms of “casual” by chappell roan (iykyk), art is lowkey a shit starter

author’s note: so i finished this a while back and added it to my queue and did not realize i put it for july instead of june so LOL MY BAD. this is kinda like a prequel to “good luck, babe!” but you don't need to read that to get this. alsoooo thank you for all the love and feedback in “good luck, babe!” i’ve read every single message and tried to reply to all of them! you guys are so sweet and inspired me to write more! thank you thank you <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

Manhattan, New York City, 2012

"I hope you're planning on getting laid tonight."

Your drink is cold, the ice cubes clinking against the glass as you swirl the straw absentmindedly. The dim lighting of the hotel bar casts a warm, golden glow over everything, making the polished wood of the bar counter gleam. Around you, the murmur of conversations, bursts of laughter, and the occasional clinking of glasses create a lively yet intimate ambiance. You glance at the TV mounted in the corner, where a muted sports channel displays highlights from a basketball game.

You try not to snort into your drink at the words of Patrick Zweig on the other end of the call. You push your phone closer to your ear, unable to bite back the grin spreading across your face.

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"What?" Patrick's tone is mockingly innocent, full of playful mischief.

"I thought you called to say something a little more... I don't know, sincere? Heartwarming?"

He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh that you can practically feel through the phone. In the background, you hear the faint sounds of a city—honking cars, distant chatter, and the occasional bark of a dog. The noise fades slightly as Patrick likely moves to a quieter spot, and you can almost picture him getting in his car in some other state—you think he's in Arizona.

"The only kind of warming I wanna hear about is cockwarming," he retorts, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You make a face, "You're disgusting."

"I mean it," he insists, still laughing. "I'm actually so jealous of you right now. You qualified for the Olympics, for fuck's sake! How's your mom doing? Did she have a heart attack? Did she call you already? I hope she packed you some condoms. There's gonna be such a wide variety. Literally every country in the world."

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick."

Your mother did call, her voice crackling with emotion over the phone just before Patrick rang you. She told you how proud she is of you, how she can't wait to watch you play and tell everyone she knows that her daughter is an Olympic tennis player. A gold medalist, maybe.

Her words echo in your mind, filling you with a warmth that battles the nerves simmering beneath the surface.

You take a sip of your drink, savouring the blend of fruity and bitter flavours, a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts. You try not to spill it on your Ralph Lauren sweater, custom-made, just for the Olympics, with your name stitched on the arm.

Around you, the hotel bar is alive with the buzz of other athletes celebrating with their teams. The fellowship is appreciable as laughter and cheers fill the air. But for some single athletes, like yourself, it's a different story. You feel as if you're in high school all over again, too awkward to make friends, hoping someone braver than you will come by and say hello first.

"You better not be sitting at the bar alone, drinking that orange juice you like."

"A sangria isn't just juice, you dick," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"You're such a loser."

You do feel a little bit like a loser, sitting alone at the bar, but you know you shouldn't. You're hours away from your flight to London where you'll have the chance to play tennis in the Olympics. This is all you've ever wanted since you were a child, all you've been working for—sweat, blood, and tears. You can't even remember a time when you've dreamt of something other than this.

Tennis has always been your escape, your sanctuary. You remember those early days when you played with second-hand rackets and makeshift nets, the local court becoming your second home.

And then there was Patrick, your closest… friend(?) and fiercest rival. His encouragement, his competition, and his company kept you grounded and motivated. When the going got tough, the dream felt too distant, and all of it made you feel far too guilty as if you had stolen someone else's life, Patrick was there to reassure you that you deserved it just as much as the next. Without him, you likely would have walked away from the sport you love.

"I can't believe you made it to the Olympics before me," Patrick's voice pulls you back to the present, a mix of envy and pride lacing his words. You can almost see the playful smirk on his face, a familiar expression that often surfaced during your countless matches together.

"I wish you were here, Pat." Your voice softens, the longing evident. It was hard to track down Patrick Zweig, especially while he was constantly on the move, hopping from state to state, playing as many challengers as he could sign up for, each match a stepping stone toward his dream of winning the US Open. And you think he will. You've played against him enough times to know he's better than you at hitting a ball with a racket.

There were nights when you'd both crash in a shabby motel or back at your place after a gruelling day on the court, strategizing and critiquing each other's play styles (sometimes in more than just tennis). His tenacity was a beacon for you, pushing you to strive harder and to reach further.

His voice softens, becoming more earnest. "Yeah, me too. I'll try to get tickets for one of your games in London. If not, I'll catch up with your mom and watch it with her. Is your dad still in the picture?"

You roll your eyes, a reflex to his familiar teasing. "Oh, my god."

"I'm just asking," he chuckles. "Listen, I'm gonna let you go, 'cause I've got a date tonight. But call me when you land."

"Oh, yeah, okay." You try not to let the disappointment seep into your voice, but it's hard. It's not like you and Patrick were together, at least not publicly, at least not in the sense that you couldn't see other people. But even as you tell yourself that, a knot tightens in your chest.

It feels a bit teenageish, you think, messing around with friends and acting like it means nothing just to avoid making things awkward. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were leaving something unsaid, something unacknowledged. Patrick was one of the few people in your life who kept you on your toes and made you feel good—truly good.

Now, the idea of him with someone else, going on dates while you chase your dreams, feels like a betrayal you can't quite articulate. But what right do you have to feel that way? You never made things official, never dared to cross that line.

You never bothered to search for love outside of tennis.

"Have fun on your date," you manage to say. It comes out more brittle than you'd hoped. "Talk to you later."

"Bye!" he says, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart. His voice is light and carefree, and why wouldn't it be?

You end the call and set your phone down on the bar with a bit more force than intended, the hollow thud echoing your frustration. The bartender glances your way and you try to flash him an honest smile before ordering another drink. The TV overhead flickers, switching from basketball highlights to a recap of the latest tennis matches. You watch the screen without really seeing it.

The bar is still lively, yet you feel an overwhelming sense of solitude. You can't help but feel like you're stuck in limbo—caught between your dreams and the reality of your personal life.

You take a deep breath and a long sip of the rest of your first drink, the cool liquid doing little to ease the heat of frustration building inside you. You tell yourself you should be happy, grateful even. But right now, all you can think about is Patrick, and how much easier it would be if he were here with you.

But he's not. And maybe he never will be.

Maybe no one will.

Maybe you will die alone, your tennis racket as your only companion.

"This seat taken?" A familiar voice breaks through your thoughts.

You turn, startled, "No-" you start, but then the blur of blonde hair comes to focus and you're stumbling over your words, "Art? What- what are you doing here?"

"Oh," he smiles, a shy faint red blush already growing on his pale skin. He sits beside you, almost hesitantly, "Just stopping by the city. I saw you and thought I'd say hi."

"Hi." You return his smile, albeit a bit warily.

It's been years since you last spoke to Art properly, though your paths have crossed a few times. You've seen him in magazines, TV, and brief passings usually at major tournaments—Wimbledon, the Australian Open, the US Open. Each time, there were shy smiles and waves from across the room, lingering eyes, and awkward conversations where mutual friends tried to reintroduce you as if you hadn't once known each other

Art looks different every time you see him. His hair, now a little shorter than you remember, still maintains that boyish shagginess. There's a darker tan on his skin, evidence of his time spent under the sun. Some days he has a brighter smile, other days, it's a smile that never reaches his eyes.

As he sits there, you can't help but think of how golden his hair used to look whenever he wore his old Stanford hat, the one he used to pull low over his eyes during your college days. The memory makes you aware that you're staring, maybe a little too long. But he's looking at you too, his blue eyes trailing from one end of your face to the other, as if trying to memorize it all, capturing a photograph of who you are now.

A warmth spreads through you under his gaze, and when he finally looks away, you turn too, tapping at your empty glass, pretending to seem interested in the way the ice has started to melt.

But your eyes betray you, slowly trailing back to him. You watch the way he sits, the way he calls over the bartender and orders himself a glass of water. You try not to notice the deep timbre his voice has gained over the years, and how it resonates in the noisy bar. He looks at you, then the empty seat on your other side, and finally scans the room anxiously, as if he's searching for someone or something.

"He's not here," you finally say, breaking the silence that has grown too heavy. "If that's what you're wondering."

He nods, trying to act nonchalant but failing miserably. "What city is he in now?"

"Vegas, I think."

He makes a face and rests his chin on his hand. "There's no challengers in Vegas this month."

"Then he's just visiting. I don't know." The truth is, you don't want to talk about Patrick right now. Especially not with Art. Not after the way they ended things. You watch Art shrug, and the bartender sets your drink in front of you. You take a grateful sip, savouring the blend of flavours. Art holds his glass carefully, and the two of you sit in strained silence for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into the background.

You can't help but ask, "What are you doing here? In Manhattan?"

"I have an interview tomorrow. For the New York Times," Art says, leaning back slightly. He seems a little surprised as if he expected you to sit there without acknowledging him for the whole night. It makes you wonder what he thinks of you. "They're doing a piece on my career, the highs, the lows... the beginning and stuff."

You study his face, trying to gauge his emotions. You know what it's like to be interviewed, to have a team of people making you look your best for photos and another team crafting answers to help you maintain your reputation. It’s exhausting and thrilling all at once. "Congrats, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you. If anything, I should be congratulating you. Olympics? That's huge..." He continues talking, his lips moving, but you’re barely registering the words. For the first time that night, he seems genuinely enthusiastic, a faint spark in his eyes as he talks about you, about London, gesturing with his hand in excitement.

That's when you notice it. The gold around his finger. It glimmers under the warm lights of the bar, catching your eye like a beacon. You can't stop staring at it even after he's done talking.

"Oh, yeah. It's great." The words feel hollow as they leave your mouth. You struggle to find the right response, not wanting to be rude. "You're married?"

His face falls, and he looks down at his hand resting on his lap. "Oh, yeah, yeah. We, uh..." He scratches the back of his head, his eyes darting up to meet yours briefly before looking away. He seems nervous, like he's bracing for your reaction, worried to tell you, as if you weren’t supposed to know at all. "We got married last year. We kept pushing the date for a while because we were... we were busy... and stuff just kept getting in the way."

"We...?"

"Tashi."

"Tashi," you echo, the name tasting foreign and bitter on your tongue. "You're married? You married each other?"

He nods, "Yeah, we've been engaged for a few years now. You haven't heard?"

You feel a lump form in your throat. "No, uh. My coach tries to keep me away from certain news... my mom suggested it. So I don't get uh, distracted."

This is exactly the kind of situation your team has been trying to avoid.

The reality of his words sinks in, and you feel a sharp pang of something—loss, regret, maybe even jealousy. The air around you feels thicker and harder to breathe. Each word he says feels like another brick being laid on your chest, pressing down, making it harder to stay composed.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

You force a smile, but it's a fragile thing, threatening to shatter at any moment. "That's... that's great, Art. I'm happy for you. Really. How was... how was the wedding?" Your mind races with thoughts of broken promises and missed opportunities. You imagine Tashi in her wedding dress; you know she looked beautiful. The image stabs at you, and you wince.

"It was beautiful. Both our families came in, and we kept it traditional, in a church. It was..." He pauses, watching you before adding, "It was a small ceremony. Private. Just family."

His words twist the knife deeper. Tashi's family used to see you as such. "No, yeah, I get it. Wouldn't want any trouble at the wedding. I'm happy for you. I'm happy for the both of you." You turn to the bartender, desperate to keep your voice steady. "Hey, can I get another drink? Something stronger?"

Patrick was right; your stupid orange juice won't get you through the night.

Art watches you with concern, his brow furrowing. "How many of those have you had?"

You laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your ears. "Not enough."

"Does your coach know you're drinking?"

"Does yours know you're talking to me?"

Art leans back, his posture stiffening. He turns to his drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass as he takes another sip. The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable. You watch as he processes your words, his expression shifting from defensiveness to something more pained. You instantly feel a pang of guilt, realizing you've struck a nerve.

You've heard all about Tashi's coaching with Art. Whispers in the locker rooms during tournaments, hushed conversations about how she's pushing him until he cracks. You never wanted to believe it, never wanted to think that Tashi, of all people, would be the one to break him down.

"She calls you Ace, you know."

You make a face at the name. A journalist had written an article about you a few years ago when you won your first US Open, nicknaming you Ace since your serves were almost impossible to hit. The nickname stuck, plastered across headlines, magazine covers, and merchandise. People even bet on you becoming the youngest tennis player with the most aces in history before the season ended. You were only off by a dozen.

"Does she?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, unaffected.

"You do have a killer serve."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Killer." The word feels bitter on your tongue. "Tashi used to hit those back at me like it was nothing."

Art nods, taking another sip of his drink before pausing to look at you. "Only 'cause she knows you."

"Knew," you correct him.

The silence stretches again, heavier this time. You're about to say something, anything to break it, when Art speaks again, his voice softer, more earnest.

"I miss you."

What. The. Fuck.

"I do," he insists, leaning forward, his eyes searching yours. "I miss hanging out with you. I miss playing with you. Watching your games live and not recorded on my TV."

"Art, c'mon." You feel the dread crawling up your throat, wishing you had left the bar sooner. Every word he says seems to pull you deeper into a past you've been trying to escape. Art has done nothing but throw you off your game all night.

"I miss you outside of tennis, too," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I miss our late-night walks, studying in the library. You remember those?"

"Of course I do."

"Tashi misses you, too," he says, and you can tell he's crossing a line, testing your patience. You can feel the corner of your mouth twitch, your eyes unable to meet his. "She tells me every night. She's always keeping up with your stats, watching all of your games, rewatching your old ones. She makes notes for you, how you could improve. She wants to coach you."

"Art, stop it," you finally snap, turning to face him. The night feels ruined, any semblance of peace shattered. Was this all some elaborate scheme against you? After all these years, is this how they repay you? Out of spite? Is that what it is, a way to get back at you because you somehow got it all, and Tashi's taking whatever she can scrape off from Art?

"I don't want her to coach me. And I highly doubt she wants to coach me either."

"I booked the hotel," he says suddenly, his voice softer, more sincere. "She doesn't know you're here. And I really think it will be good for you two to talk." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper, placing it carefully on the bar in front of you. "Here's our room number. I'll be out tonight with some friends, so the room is yours till late. Just, don't kill each other or break anything if you fight."

"I'm not going—"

"She really does miss you," he interrupts, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might understand, might relent.

You stare at the piece of paper, feeling its presence like a burning brand. Art stands up, hesitating for a moment as if he wants to say more but thinks better of it. "I mean it. Think about it," he murmurs before turning and walking away, his footsteps echoing in the hollow space of your mind.

You watch him go, each step he takes pulling at the threads of your carefully constructed facade. As he nears the entrance, your eyes follow him instinctively, and that's when you see her. Tashi. She's standing there, with her bags looking around with a familiar intensity, her eyes scanning the room until they lock onto yours.

You feel sick.

Meeting Art was a pleasant surprise; he makes your heart race and your cheeks burn. But Tashi makes your heart stop and your brain shut off.

She looks different—older, more mature, hair straight and cut to a mid-length but also a lighter colour—but still heartbreakingly familiar. Her eyes widen slightly as she recognizes you.

She opens her mouth as if to say something when Art stands next to her, pressing a kiss to her temple, but no words come out.

Your heart hammers in your chest.

The weight of her gaze is too much. You're the first to look away. You stand up abruptly, nearly knocking over your drink in the process. "Excuse me," you mutter to the bartender, slapping a couple of bucks on the counter. Your voice feels distant, and detached, as if it belongs to someone else.

You push through the crowd, your mind a chaotic whirl of emotions. You need air. You need space.

As you reach the elevator, you can feel Tashi's eyes still on you. But you keep moving, your footsteps quickening with each step. You need to focus on tennis. That's the only thing that's never let you down.

Tashi had once picked tennis over you, and now it was your turn to do the same.

You reach your room and close the door behind you, leaning against it as you finally let out the breath you've been holding. The walls seem to close in on you, and you slide down to the floor.

You need to remember why you're here. For the game. For the dream. And that has to be enough.

Only one problem.

You can't sleep.

Hours later, you find yourself in the hotel gym, the quiet hum of the machines the only sound in the stillness of the night. Your mind is racing, a chaotic swirl of thoughts and emotions you can't control. Desperate for an outlet, you hop on a treadmill and start running, hoping to exhaust yourself into some semblance of peace.

Anything is better than sitting in the hotel lobby, scouring the internet on the public computer for any proof of Art and Tashi's marriage while drinking wine straight from the bottle.

Art was right, it was a small wedding. There were almost no photos of it caught by the paparazzi, only articles upon articles talking about it, magazine covers and everything. God, how could you have missed this? How out of the loop were you?

There was only one photo posted, and it was from Tashi's Facebook and Instagram from less than a year ago; a picture of just her hand holding onto Art's, where you can see her wedding ring. There was no caption. But the photo had millions of likes.

You wonder if Patrick knew. He probably did. He stalks her account religiously and only recently started to tone it down. And then there's you, who had her blocked on everything since your last argument.

The music playing in your ears drowns out the world around you, a heavy beat pulsing as you hum along. Your eyes fixate on the rising numbers on the treadmill screen, sometimes glancing out the window at the city skyline, other times catching your silhouette in the glass reflection.

Sweat makes your clothes cling to you like a second skin, rolling down your spine in rivulets. You're still a little tipsy from your drinks, the taste lingering in your cheeks, but you think you're sober enough that a few more miles will drain it all out.

Art's words are burned into your mind. The wedding you were never invited to, how he suddenly wants to be friends again. You can see where he's coming from; tennis is lonely. You're lonely. You press the button to go faster, your legs burning as you push yourself harder, trying to escape the thoughts that chase you.

You don't hear the door click open, and it takes a few seconds for you to spot the reflection of someone walking behind you in the window's reflection, rolling out a pink yoga mat. But they don't step onto it, they don't move, and even worse, you catch their eye in the reflection.

Fuck.

It's Tashi Duncan.

Your heart lurches in your chest. You quickly look away, panic setting in. You turn your music up higher and make the treadmill run faster, the machine whirring louder in response. Your pulse races, not just from the exertion, but from the presence of the one person you can't bear to face right now.

In the corner of your eye, you see her approach you. When you hear her call out your name between songs, you pretend you can't hear her. You pretend to be captivated by the sight of the city at night, pretend that you're lost in the music as P!nk's voice blares into your ears, cursing out one of her old lovers.

You wonder how long you can keep the act up.

Tashi moves with a determination that you've always admired and feared. She walks around your treadmill, eyes locked onto you with a fierce intensity. Without hesitation, she reaches down and unplugs the machine from the wall, forcing it to power down abruptly.

Not long enough.

"What the fuck?" You huff, yanking out your earbuds. "What's your fucking problem?"

"You're my problem," she says, her voice steady, unyielding as she rolls her eyes.

"I haven't said a word to you."

"And that's my problem. I'm talking to you," Her gaze bores into yours, refusing to be ignored. You can see the resolve in her eyes, the same decisiveness that made her a force to be reckoned with on the court.

"I'm busy," you snap, and your breath comes in ragged gasps, both from the exertion and the emotional storm raging inside you. You feel trapped, cornered by the very person you’ve been trying to avoid.

You bite your tongue, stepping off the treadmill and walking around her when she steps in front of you. You make a straight line for your bag, watching her from the mirrors as she follows you closely.

"Can you listen?" It's more of a demand than an ask, "I just... Art told me what he did. He's a little shit, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. You have other shit to worry about."

You're taking long chugs from your water, staring at her without saying a word. Part of it is because you have nothing to say to her, and another is because you're afraid that if you speak, she'll see through you.

Tashi's eyes roam over you, lingering on your shorts and the way the wires from your earbuds snake from your iPod, under your tank, and peek out from under your sports bra. Her gaze is both appraising and filled with something unresolved between you. When you don't respond, she sighs. "You look great, by the way. On the court. You've changed your approach. You're vicious."

The compliment stings more than it soothes. You still don't say anything, letting the silence stretch between you like a chasm.

"...Or maybe you've always been. I haven't seen you in a long time. So a lot could've changed, I don't know."

You lower your bottle, swallowing the water. It feels cold as it runs down your throat, a stark contrast to the heat of your rising anger. You can't help the way your eyes drop to her hand when you pull your hair down from its ponytail. The sight of the ring on her finger feels like a punch to the gut.

She notices.

"We didn't want you to find out this way."

Your eyes snap up to hers. "And how was I supposed to find out?"

Tashi looks taken aback for a moment, her confident façade faltering. She takes a deep breath, as if bracing herself. "I don't know. Maybe we should've told you. Should've invited you. But I thought... I thought it would be easier for you if you didn't know. I didn't want to hurt you more than I already had."

Your laugh is bitter, devoid of any real amusement. "Easier?

"Look," Tashi begins, her voice tinged with a hint of impatience, "I'm not a fan of the way I ended things. But I think that keeping a grudge for this long is embarrassing. We were teenagers."

"You're right," you concede with a bitter chuckle, "it is embarrassing. But you know what's even more embarrassing?" Your voice rises, fueled by a mixture of frustration and hurt. "Having your husband come to me and tell me how much he misses me. And how you miss me. But you don't have the guts to tell me that yourself, do you? Do you miss me, Tashi?"

"Of course I miss you," she scoffs, her tone defensive. "You were my best friend. My serving partner. We played and won doubles together."

"Is that all I was to you?"

"Was there supposed to be anything more?"

There it is, the moment you've been dreading, the confrontation you've been avoiding. You can feel the familiar ache in your chest, "You know I fucking loved you, Tashi," you admit. "And yeah, whatever, everyone loved you. No one could get enough of Tashi Duncan. But you know damn well I loved you for more than just that."

"Loved?" She steps closer, her eyes searching yours. "You don't love me anymore?"

"No," you tell her. "I don't. I dropped out of your groupie a while ago."

"What do you love, then?" Her voice is almost a whisper, the distance between you closing.

"I love tennis," you confess, your gaze never leaving hers. "I love winning. Turns out I'm great at both. And I love that too. And people love me. That's more than you could ever give me. Or Art."

"Even Patrick?" The mention of his name is a sharp jab; she's trying to get under your skin.

"I don't know, you tell me." You're taunting her. And you love the way she falters for a split second. "You saw him at the Open last year, didn't you?"

The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you. "Listen," she says, her voice dropping lower, "I just came here to tie some loose ends. For Art's sake. He says It'll be good for me."

"Okay," you reply, seizing the opportunity to turn the conversation in your favour. Hook, line and sinker. "Is there anything else you want to get off your chest?"

Hook.

Tashi's eyes narrow slightly, but she takes the bait, her expression shifting to one of determination. "You raise your arm too high when you serve. You're gonna dislocate your shoulder one day."

"I bet you're waiting for the day I do."

"I can make you the best."

"Am I not already?"

Line.

"You're one of the best at most. But not the best. I'd be surprised if you bring back bronze. You're too short-tempered for silver. Let me coach you. I'll make sure you bring back gold."

"I don't need you," you say, the words catching in your throat.

"We both know you do," she whispers, her breath warm against your lips.

And sinker.

In that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. The words hang in the air, a silent challenge. You can feel the heat radiating from her, the closeness almost unbearable.

Without another thought, your lips crash together in a desperate kiss, a release of all the pent-up tension and longing that has simmered between you for far too long.

It's a whirlwind of heat and passion, each touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume everything in its path. Her hands are in your hair, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your body pressed against hers with a fierce urgency.

The kiss deepens a symphony of desire and desperation, all the words you couldn't say pouring into it with a fervour that borders on reckless abandon. You can feel yourself start to become absorbed into the bubble that is Tashi Duncan, it sucks you in, and it scares you, makes you feel as if you're sinking into the bottom of the ocean.

She grips the back of your neck, hard enough that her nails dig into the skin. Tashi waits for your gasp, and when you do, she pushes her tongue into your mouth, past your teeth until it collides with your own.

You're moaning, groaning into her mouth with the way she shoves you until your back hits the mirror behind you. You're arching into her at the way she fucking smiles against your lips at your reaction.

It's pathetic. You're pathetic. Almost in the same way Art is. You know it. She knows it. But in your defence, it's been a while since you've been kissed, it's been a while since someone's touched you this way, with heat and flavour. You're a little dizzy from it, cheeks flaring with embarrassment.

Tashi sucks your tongue into her mouth and you buck your hips against the thigh she's pressed between your legs.

There's a sweetness that lingers when she bites your lip, you wonder if she's wearing lipgloss, maybe chapstick. You hope she can't tell you've been drinking, that talking to Art made you spiral, that you've been bluffing since the moment she walked into the gym. Since the night she packed her things and told you she was leaving Stanford, her scholarship has no use since she can't play anymore.

When her hands run down your neck to your waist, gliding over the sweat on your skin, you can feel the cold touch of her wedding ring. It's frigid, making you shiver when Tashi starts to lick up the column of your throat. You almost feel bad about how wet you've become.

"Tashi..." you huff, her hands found their way to the base of your ass, guiding you to rock faster against her, only making you whine. Her grasp is tight, wanting. She pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your crotch closer to hers and then pushing you back down on her leg. She repeats the motion a few times, rolling her own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto her.

Tashi rewards you with a quiet moan—oh, you want her to do that again, you're going to make her do that again, louder and louder—and then, with a touch so light you could cry, she traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

You can feel your stomach nearly drop, "You're married, Tashi."

She pulls away just to laugh at you. One finger traces your slit through your shorts, and you hear yourself moan. She raises her brows, a challenging look in her eyes, "Are you jealous?"

You try to scoff, but the cold glass of the mirror behind you squeaks when you shift. Even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once.

"What would Art say?" You try to say, your hair falling over your face as you try to collect some kind of morality. If you were caught, you can already imagine the headlines and the stories people would write about you. "What would he do if he found us right now?"

"I don't know," Tashi hums, leaning closer. She pretends to think as if the answer isn't obvious, teasing you a little when she gets close enough to kiss you but doesn't. "He'd probably ask to join."

You can't stop the way that thought alone makes you melt. You remember the jokes Patrick used to make back when you were in college, of you and Tashi being his wet dreams. You can almost imagine, how he would moan at everything, want everything, his whiney moans too similar to the ones he makes when he's on the court.

Tashi rubs gently at your pussy a few more times like she's exploring you, and then suddenly she taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and she sighs against your mouth. "You're so wet. You like it when I touch you?"

"Yeah, please... touch me." You nod. And in your head, you're telling yourself you only like it because you haven't been with anyone since Patrick left for his tour.

Tashi kisses you again, and it's a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath her shirt she starts to fumble with your waistband, and you're both angry and resentful and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet.

Her fingers are clumsily slipping into your underwear and then she's there, her fingers are brushing right against your clit—you're so wet that her fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time she reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Tashi leaves you gasping and she teases you for it. "So sensitive," she taunts against your lips, pressing her thumb against your clit so she can see you squirm, pumping her fingers at an urgent pace to hear you moan. "So needy."

With each movement, she scissors her fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and she starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? I am, aren't I? I'm exactly what you need. C'mon say you want me. Tell me you need me, Ace."

"Maybe—" You're breathless, and the nickname has you tugging at her hair again, "Shit, I saw the way you made Art. He... oh god... he wouldn't be half the athlete without you. I also... I also wouldn't want to ruin my shoulder... while—while serving."

"I'm not talking about tennis."

For a moment, you worry that you've fallen for a trap, that you've said too much. You're vulnerable, a little drunk on lust and wine, and Tashi isn't stupid to not catch your sapphic crush on her since the two of you became friends, an old high school love that's never really disappeared, from slumber party kisses and how you've gawked at her, at her husband and even her ex-boyfriend.

"C'mon, Tash, you're always talking about tennis."

"Not this time."

You barely catch onto what she says. Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that she's given up on pumping her fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach—"I think I'm close... oh, I don't—fuck—keep touching me like that."

She bites your neck until you say her name. You pull her hair until she moans. Her touch is blistering against your skin. She says your name in a breathy drawl like she's pleading with you, humouring you, wanting to take everything from you.

"Keep going, please, please don't stop," you all but shout, and Tashi continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of her hand means the heel of her palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into her hand—you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you.

Every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Tashi whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming—

Distantly, you can feel her fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting—and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto her lap—but other than that, all you know is the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once. A hot sting against your skin that reminds you of the sun whenever you're on the tennis court, deep into the game you've turned into the love of your life.

It can't have possibly been this long since the last time you've gotten laid, right?

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Tashi is heaving for breath against your shoulder and her fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. "You're so pretty, you know that? No tennis talk."

You lean your head back against the mirror, a slow grin forming on your lips, "You don't think I'm pretty when I play."

"I think you're hot when you play."

You peek a glance at Tashi, meeting her eyes as she watches you, watching the way you catch your breath, skin shining against the fluorescent lights of the gym, similar to how you shine on the court. Yeah, you're a sight for sore fucking eyes.

Tashi takes slow, taunting steps back and away from you, and then she brings her fingers to her mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes, you can see the most fucked-out look on her face just at the taste of your cum.

She licks her fingers clean—you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight—before opening her eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "I'll be in my room," she rolls up her pink mat (which she never used) and picks up her bag, "I'm sure you know the number. I'm hoping you can return the favour and touch me or something. You know, before you leave in the morning."

tags 🏷️: @begoniaespresso / @sceletaflores / @too-deviant / @wolflover384 / @sevikasblackgf / @supercutszns / @diorrfairy / @24kmar / @apolloscastellan

reblog to support your writers!

#and that is tea #tashi duncan smut #tashi duncan x reader #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #patrick x tashi #art x tashi #tashi x art x patrick #challengers 2024 #challengers smut #art challengers #challengers movie #patrick zweig #art donaldson #tashi’s hotel room

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cllightning81 · 5 months ago

Text

Deserve [PG10]

Summary : Your ex is in the paddock and a bad race leads Pierre to worrying about how good he is for you

Pairing/s: Pierre Gasly x Reader, Joe Burrow x ex!reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

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A/N: This has been sitting just needing an ending for ages. I also just graduated and had prom. I'm still recovering from my prom.

The Miami paddock was obviously your favourite paddock to be in as it was your home country but also the closest Grand Prix to your home state. Typically, the Miami paddock was full of influencers or random celebrities that knew nothing about Formula One.

Many years ago, you would have been seen as one of those random influencers, except it was so far from the truth. Your family history always included mechanics from your great grandfather all the way to your father and siblings. While your brothers decided to become mechanics for normal everyday cars, you went to university getting a degree in mechanics before following in your fathers footsteps and working for a Formula One team.

Alpine had welcomed you with open arms when you applied for the job after one of Pierre’s engineers had decided it was time to leave the role and spend more time with his family. Taking the role of Engine Engineer was not something you had ever seen yourself doing, but now you were doing it. It was something you never wanted to stop doing.

You had started working with Alpine keeping your distance from everyone but Pierre wouldn’t stop trying to get to know you so after becoming good friends you told him about the relationship you were currently in after meeting your boyfriend -Joe Burrow- as a child where after many years of hiding the relationship and not talking about your feelings it eventually happened.

Except maybe dating your best friend and childhood friend isn’t the best thing you could ever do. The relationship wasn’t one you ever thought you’d be in. The feelings that were there to start with slowly just started to disappear, and after letting Pierre into this side of your life, he vowed that he’d never let anyone hurt you again.

After finally giving into Pierre’s attempts to go on a date with him, you finally gave in, and now, a year later, you were in Miami for the Grand Prix. Walking through the paddock on the day of Sprint and Quali, you were far too focused on talking to another mechanic to realise that Joe was standing in the paddock. Talking about the car as you walked into the garage.

Noticing Travis Kelcee in the garage, you smiled over before turning to Pierre and the car. Obviously, it was well known that Travis would be within the Alpine garage due to him having stakes in it. You never thought about Joe being there as well after avoiding him since the breakup.

“Hey mon amore” Pierre smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you stood next to him.

“Hi love” You smiled, grabbing your ipad from the desk before walking over to get your headphones. Placing the radio pack in your pocket as you walked back over to the car. Talking with Pierre about the things your team was planning to change before the sprint race, making sure he agreed with the plans before setting up the team on the plan.

About ten minutes later, Pierre joined you in supervising the team, handing you a cup of coffee with a smile as you turned to look at him

“So you’ll never guess who I just saw walking about” He hummed, taking a drink of his water as you fully turned to face him

“If I’ll never guess you might as well, just tell me” You shrugged, taking a drink of the coffee as you looked up at him

“I’d rather make you guess” He shrugged, and you gave him a pointed look

“Just tell me Pierre” you huffed, rolling your eyes as his own eyes glanced across the garage in the direction of Travis

“Joe” He whispered, and you frowned, looking at him

“Joe who?” You asked with a shrug as you listened into what a mechanic was saying at the same time

“Your ex” He finished, and you looked up at him

“He’s here? In the paddock?” You questioned, and he nodded. Quickly glancing around to make sure he wasn’t in the garage, you let out a breath when you realised he wasn’t.

Pierre had gone out to race not long after that conversation and unfortunately due to an error with his car he had to retire only half way through the race when a tyre wasn’t put on the car correctly. He was annoyed more than anything because he was sitting within the top ten until that error.

Storming off to his drivers room after he got out of the car, you looked over at the rest of his team, who just sighed and sat back down in their seats. You gave him a couple of moments alone before following him to the drivers room.

Knocking on the door, not wanting to barge in, you could hear him shuffling about inside the room just waiting for some acknowledgement before walking in, but there was no acknowledgement.

“Love? Please let me in” You sighed

“It’s open” His muffled voice came through the door, and you walked in with a sigh. Seeing him sat on the couch with his head in his hands. You sighed, sitting down next to him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into your chest.

“You don’t deserve me. You should just go back to Joe. He’s one of the best players. He’s currently one of the best-looking athletes. He can actually do his job properly. He’s just a better person than I am, and you don’t deserve to be stuck with me, and I get it if you want to go back to him because if I were you. I would” You frowned, pulling his hands away from his face

“Pierre what?” You asked now really confused as you held his hands in your own

“Just let me know” You tilted your head to look at him better

“Baby. I’m not leaving you for Joe. I left him and got you. Why would I change that? You’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, not him. We weren’t in love but me and you. We are, and I wouldn’t change that for the world because you’re the one that I love. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else beside me” You pressed a kiss to the knuckles of his hands gently wiping his tears away

“I don’t deserve you” He shook his head, and you sighed

“I don’t deserve you, love. You’re so kind and caring, and I hate to see you put yourself down for something that you couldn’t help. That wasn’t your fault. That was the mechanics, and I love them, I do, but there was nothing you could have done to stop that retirement” You pressed a kiss to his cheek just wanting to shower him in love.

“You’re doing the best that you ever could in that car. As your engineer I get to say it’s a shit car and you’re pushing that car to its limits but if you’re not happy here maybe you need to start thinking about the fact silly season is coming up and there’s so many open spaces” You pushed his hair back as he nodded

“Yeah I guess” He sighed

“Baby. You’re so kind and caring, and I know you. I know who you are as a person. You as a person are what matters to me, not you as a driver, because I love you as the human being, not as anything else. I love you baby” You gently pressed your hand against his cheek as you gently caressed his cheek.

“I love you too”

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

@f1kenzzz

@evie-119

@ahgase99

@thegrapejuiceblues1982

@zabwlky1999

@callsignwidow

#pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one x reader #pg10 x reader #pg10 x you #pg10 #pg10 fanfic #pg10 imagine

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aliaology · 4 months ago

Note

Hiya love, I don’t know if your requests are open and if they aren’t feel free to delete/ignore but I was wondering if you could do Jack, Quinn and Luke reacting to older Hughes sister bringing her boyfriend to the lake house and they’re so cute the three are trying so hard to hate him they just can’t?

yess babe this sounds so fun!!

PSA i lowkey read it wrong and instead of older hughes sister, i did younger hughes sister. uhm... i had already written so much i couldn't figure out how to fix it so we have to stay this way. IM SORRY BAE

MR PERFECT

like your brothers, you didn't live at home anymore. in fact, you didn't follow in luke or quinns footsteps. university of michigan was not your school, university of tennessee was. you moved down there with a full-ride scholarship for softball. down in tennessee, that's where you met a boy.

this boy's name is grayson, and unlike you, he didn't actually attend your college. you met him at one of your games. his sister was on your team, and you had accidentally run into him when you were on your way out of the stadium. he had a nice southern accent, and was raised to always treat a lady right, at least that's what his mama told you.

now, after a few months of dating, and meeting his family; it was time to meet yours.

"they don't have a thing against us southerners, right?" grayson asked, clearly nervous to meet your parents, even more nervous about your brothers.

"calm down, gray. they're gonna love you." you spoke softly.

you took one hand off the wheel and grabbed his hand in yours, lacing your hands together. he let out a breath before bringing up your twined hands and kissing the back of yours.

"you promise?" he asked, his free hand resting on the door with the window down. his hand gripped the top of the door loosely.

"promise, gray. my parents already like you from the stuff ive told them." you told, turning down your road.

his grip on your hand got a tad tighter. "i think i'm more nervous about your brothers." he confessed.

you sucked in a breath through your teeth, your grip tightening on his hand now instead. "id love to reassure you, gray, but they can be such overprotective dicks." you admitted.

grayson nodded, clearly nervous. his nerves just flared up more as you pulled into your lake house driveway. hesitantly, he removed his hand from yours and got out of the car as you put it into park. your parents were already walking over, your brothers on the porch. grayson walked to your side of the car and opened the door for you.

smiling, you turned the car off and grabbed his hand, getting out with his help. you turned to your parents who were just a few feet away from you, grayson shut your door for you.

"hi mom- dad" you smiled, pulling them both into a hug. ellen laughed slightly as jim just smiled.

"god sweetie, we missed you so much. its so weird knowing you're down in tennessee." ellen told.

footsteps approached, many of them at a time. your brothers came behind your parents. "weird to be in tennessee, but its fun."

you removed yourself from your parents before being swept off your feet by your closest brother, luke. endless hugs came from your brothers before they all finally left you alone so you could introduce the boy you brought home.

"grayson, these are my parents: ellen and jim." you pointed to them. "and those are my brothers: quinn, jack and luke." you told.

"everyone, this is my boyfriend, grayson."

your parents were overjoyed, welcoming the boy with open arms. your older brothers though, weren't as welcoming. as soon as the word 'boyfriend' left your lips, they all looked at each other. quinns arms crossed, jacks eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and luke just stared.

you noticed their behaviors and how uncomfortable grayson felt under their gazes. you sighed and grabbed graysons hand. "we'll be unpacking for a bit."

quinn didn't like grayson, or he tried not to, just like his brothers. who does this... cowboy think he is? thinks he has a chance with his little sister? the girl who plans on moving to a big city, becoming journalist. he would only drag her down.

though, unlike jack or luke, quinn noticed the way the boy looked at his sister. grayson looked at you as if you hung the moon. like you were the reason he was alive, breathing, why his heart was beating. sure, he knew the look of love all too well due to his parents.

but this look, this was more. all of graysons love poured out through his looks. he loved to look at you. it made quinn loosen up a bit.

jack definitely didn't like grayson. the way he dressed, jeans and timberlands. who does that in this weather? the cowboy hat must've been way too big for his head too, it kept falling in front of his eyes.

the way he talked. he knew his parents were comfortable with grayson due to calls before, but how was he allowed to already call them 'ma and pa?' or when he spoke to the boys, his accent was almost forced away, but with you his southern drawl was at its peak.

the way he walked. god, did your boyfriend not learn how to properly walk when he was younger? okay, maybe jack was being a bit too harsh. but this was his little sister we're talking about. he had to make sure she only got the best.

but like quinn, he noticed something. it wasn't the looks quinn noticed, but it was they way he talked to you, and about you. when grayson talked to you, his voice was always soft, never raising even when in a playful mood. he also seemed to do his best to not swear in front of you, even when the word 'fuck' was said in about every five sentences that came out of your mouth.

and the way the boy talked about you? you may have well been an angel in his eyes. he always brought you up, even if you had no relation to the topic. grayson made sure you somehow related to it.

but that didn't mean jack liked him.

luke disliked him... moderately. his main reason for disliking him was because he was scared the boy would take you away. growing up, you and luke were the closest due to being a year apart from each other. the smaller age gap between you two compared to the others gave you guys a strong bond.

luke called often. before, during, after games, practices, sometimes even parties. every now and then he loved to call you his twin, even if it wasn't true. no one would really be able to tell.

but like the other two brothers, he disliked grayson whilst noticing one thing the others didn't: how he touched you.

now, luke didn't want to think about any weirdo guy even poking you. but he saw how grayson was with you. the southern boy was gentle. his touches were feather like when in front of your family.

graysons hands never traveled lower than your hips, and even then, he did his best to be polite and make sure you were comfortable. if you two were on the couch together, his arm around you would rest on your shoulder. his thumb would gently rub your skin back and forth. grayson was just polite.

the brothers couldn't pick him apart. oh, how they wanted to hate him, but he treated you so well. and all the individual things they noticed he did? you did them as well, and collectively they saw that.

the three boys realized how much grayson meant to you, how much you meant to him. you two were good for one another, and instead of trying to force you two apart, they made sure no one could come between you.

#hockey #jack hughes #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #quinn hughes #new jersey devils #new jersey #luke hughes #vancover canucks #canucks hockey #ellen hughes #hughes brothers #hughes sister #younger hughes sister

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years ago

Text

Welcome to my Masterlist 💌

hi, i'm murphy. my requests are always open - feel free to send any ideas or thoughts you have - i'll always read them all.

note - all of my fics are reader insert. no use of y/n. i don't write for real people, only characters <3

Last Updated - October 31st

❁ - over 1k notes

✯ - a series

Characters I Write For.

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist. 3k Celebration Masterlist. Valentines Masterlist. 5k Celebration Masterlist.

Moodboard Masterlist. My Ao3.

⊹ 　 ✫ 　　 · 　　 ✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵ 　.　 ✦ * 　 ⋆ 　　 . ✵ 　　　

Top Gun: Maverick

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

The Orange. ❁

You and Jake share an orange. He's in love with you.

For Eternity. (Part 2 of The Orange.)

You and Jake share an orange. He's never loved you more.

North Star. ❁

It's New Year's Eve. Jake is tired of waiting.

I Know Places.

Jake always joked that he'd kill for you. One fateful day, he does just that.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin & Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Why Choose?

A drunken game of spin the bottle gets a little heated. Why choose, when you can have both?

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia

Dr Cupid.

Mickey Garcia passes out in hospitals. Luckily, this time there's a pretty nurse there to catch him.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Lessons in Love. ❁

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Honey Girl. ✯❁

The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Trick or Treat.

You love Halloween. Bucky loves you.

Rest Had Seemed The Sweetest Thing.

Bucky's slowly learning that love isn't a finite resource. aka, Bucky's first Christmas.

Stucky

Letters to the Moon.

Steve is gone. The love you and Bucky have for him isn't.

Wishbone.

You meet Bucky and Steve while on the run. The three of you quickly learn that nothing is more violent than love.

Frank Castle

There's Always Tomorrow.

Frank knows you better than you know yourself. It's a blessing and a curse.

Multi Talented. ❁

Frank shows you exactly what you deserve.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Criminal Minds

Luke Alvez

Wherever You Are. That's Where Home Is.

Luke might be a mind reader. Only with you, though.

Vice. ❁

Everyone on the team has their vices. It just so happens that yours is sat across the table looking at you.

Spencer Reid

Web of Lies. ✯

Spencer Reid has always been good at keeping secrets. You just never thought he'd keep one from you.

Cowboy!Spencer ✯

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Narcos

Javier Peña

Self Control. ❁

Javi keeps refusing himself what he wants. One night puts everything into perspective.

Yes, Mr President.

There's an endless amount of things you shouldn't do as the President of the United States. Defiling the Oval Office is definitely one of them.

Western Nights. ✯

You don't expect to bump into your dad's best friend Javier in a church basement on the outskirts of town. You also didn't expect to fall in love with him. Life seems to be full of surprises - and Javier was the biggest surprise of all.

Jealousy, Jealousy. ❁

Javier Peña doesn't share.

Two Murphy's and a Peña.

Javier knows Steve's sister is off limits. He's never been one to follow the rules.

After Hours.

You and Javier are stuck in the office in the middle of a heatwave. You're hot in more ways than one.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Triple Frontier

Time. ❁

You get shot in Colombia. Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Will each have their own ways of helping you heal.

Tethered. ❁

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Tranquility.

You're not good at keeping secrets from the boys. Turns out, Will isn't either.

Home Is Where The Heart Is.

They say home is where the heart is. Your heart belongs to the four boys you call your best friends. Also known as - four important times the guys told you they loved you.

Will Miller

Champagne Fuelled Confessions.

You come home drunk, and have something burning you need to tell Will.

Best Friend's Brother.

You've known Benny for years. You've had a crush on his brother Will for years, too.

Frankie Morales

Find You.

A bad date brings Frankie Morales to your door at the perfect time.

Rain Soaked Romantic.

Frankie will run across town in the rain if it means finally telling you how he feels.

Santiago Garcia

This Is The Way It Always Goes.

Santiago always comes crawling back. You convince yourself this is the last time - but you both know that's not true.

Precious Girl.

A chance meeting with your Dad's best friend at 2am.

Benny Miller

Adrenaline.

Ben needs a way to work off his post match energy. You.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

Pretty When You Cry. ❁

Joel realises his morals are fucked. You realise you like it.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Succession

Stewy Hosseini

Clandestine. ✯

You and Stewy know it's wrong. So why, pray tell, does it feel so right?

Fully Clothed.

Being Stewy's assistant has its perks.

Consequence.

Stewy's actions have unexpected consequences.

Needy.

You've been waiting all day for Stewy to get home. He loves it.

Play Pretend.

The classic fake dating trope, with a twist.

The Place Where It All Began.

You reunite with Stewy at your high school reunion. Turns out, he's been waiting for you, all this time.

Risky.

The thrill of being caught makes it all the more exciting.

Kendall Roy

Me and You.

You quit as Kendall's assistant. He's been waiting for this day.

Illicit Affair.

You're Matssons wife. You're also in love with Kendall Roy.

Forced Proximity.

The classic only one bed trope, this time with your emotionally unavailable boss.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The Bear

Carmen Berzatto

The Roommate Collection. ✯❁

A collection of fics based on being roommates with Carmen.

Vienna.✯

Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.

Carmen. ❁

Carmen. Your Carmen.

Denial. ❁

Carmy can’t keep pretending.

Mechanic!Carmen.

Inspired by that picture of JAW in a crop top.

Perfectionist. ❁

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks. Especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

9-1-1

Evan Buckley

Lightning Strike. ❁

The two of you deal with the aftermath of Bucks trauma.

Fire Hazard. ❁

The story of your firehouse nickname - and Buck unable to handle you in a sundress.

That Old Cliche. ❁

You swore you’d never give in to the best man and maid of honour cliche. And then you met Evan Buckley.

Evan Buckley & Eddie Diaz

The Look of Love. ❁

You, Buck and Eddie are absolutely, undeniably, head over heels in love with each other. It seems like everyone can see it except for the three of you.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Sons of Anarchy

Jax Teller

Heatwave. ❁

You cut Jax's hair. He can't keep his hands to himself.

Sundress Season. ❁

It’s sundress season. Jax can’t keep his hands to himself (again).

Filip 'Chibs' Telford

Teach Me How to Ride. ❁

Chibs is teaching you how to ride (in more ways than one).

Handled.

You and Chibs have been walking the line for a little too long.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Challengers

Two Can Play That Game.

You’re cheating on Patrick. You’re not proud of it, but it just… happened. Patrick’s cheating on you, too. He never meant for it to happen, but it just… did. Imagine the surprise from both of you when you find out that Art Donaldson is caught up right in the middle.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Miscellaneous

Steve Harrington

Cherry. ✯❁

The lines of friendship get a little blurry, one unassuming Friday night in December.

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

An engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. What could go wrong?

2K notes · View notes

msheadcannons · 8 days ago

Text

first meet

barcelona femení x reader headcannnons

stepping out of the car, you’re hit with the sheer magnitude of it all. the huge barcelona crest on the training ground building, the bright blaugrana colors, the muffled conversations inside as you opened up the heavy doors.

for a moment, you stand there and just soak it in, the weight of your childhood dream finally realized. the excitement is buzzing under your skin as you remind yourself, “i'm really here. i made it to barcelona!”

sitting with the official contract in front of you, laporta sitting on the wheel chair beside, pen in hand, there’s a thrill in knowing this is the moment everything changes.

when you sign, the pen glides smoothly, like this was always meant to happen. photographers snap photos of every smile and expression, and soon after, you’re handed a fresh barça kit with your name printed across the back.

it feels surreal, but there’s a deep pride in holding it, like the kid in you is finally, fully alive.

you weren't given a number yet. however, you were told that you might get the number 20 or 25.

pulling on the barca jersey feels oddly natural. they have you pose with the ball, taking shots of every angle, and while you’re trying to look composed, the grin on your face keeps breaking through.

you think about all the times you chose “barcelona” as the answer to “barcelona or madrid?” as a kid. you realize this is a choice you’ve held onto for a lifetime. the little kid who loved this club is still somewhere inside, thrilled.

as you’re waiting to meet the team, you pull out your phone. suddenly, the gallery app says, "on this day twelve years ago.."

you are trying to distract your nerves, so you click on the notifcation to see the photo you have with messi as a kid.

it’s grainy but meaningful, capturing a time when he was barça’s biggest star, and you were just a fan. you think about sharing it later, once you’re more settled in.

after, you're headed towards the locker room, and as you approach, you hear muffled laughter and voices. a pang of nerves hits, wondering if you’ll find the same tight-knit family here as you did at bayern.

the first person to welcome you is alexia. she’s all warmth, walking over with a friendly smile and pulling you into a quick hug. there’s a sense of calm in her demeanor, and she jokes, “welcome to the family.”

before you know it, patri’s joining in, cracking jokes about the “serious” reputation ex-german league players have. you laugh, trying to play along as she teases you about bringing that same intense energy to barça. it’s refreshing, and you immediately sense her humor is going to be a good balance for the pressure you might put on yourself.

almost immediately, ewa sidles up beside you, smirking and saying it’s good to see a fellow ex-wolfsburg player. caro, fridolina, and ingrid join in too, all smiles and familiarity. there’s a strong bond from your wolfsburg days that makes you all fall into conversation easily. frido laughs about how strange it is to have all of you here.

it’s like no time has passed, and you already feel like you have an inner circle to rely on.

mapi bounces over next seeing ingrid get along with you, full of excitement and humor. she drapes an arm around you, saying that barça’s initiation rituals are “one of a kind,” making you laugh nervously.

she's energetic, and you like that. you are known to be a bit hyper and energized yourself. your speed on the pitch shoes that.

aitana joins the group, quieter but smiling warmly. she gives you a nod, saying she’s excited to have another midfielder on the team. her soft-spoken way of welcoming you makes you feel supported,

esmee comes over, offering a sincere congratulations and telling you how proud she is to see you here. you find yourself genuinely moved by her support.

soon, the entire team has gathered around, welcoming you into the fold. introductions are made, and the air is filled with laughter and excitement. everyone has a different personality, but together they make the room feel lively, like a big family gathering.

next day, you had your first training with the new team.

you notice the intensity right away. there’s a sharpness to everything, but running beside alexia and aitana, you find yourself matching their rhythm.

during passing drills, pina challenges you, adding spin or extra force to her kicks. you keep up, adapting quickly to her style. when she gives you an approving nod, it’s a small but satisfying moment of validation.

while working on corners, mapi keeps cracking jokes, making you laugh so much you almost miss your cues. she clearly has a knack for keeping things light, and it’s clear she’s already taken you under her wing.

in the scrimmage, caro and ewa are by your side, and you feel the familiar rhythm of playing with them again. frido’s right there too, giving you pointers and cracking jokes mid-play, while ingrid offers a quick thumbs-up every time you make an amazing move.

after the session, the team gathers for a cool down and a brief huddle. everyone’s a little sweaty, laughing and joking about the drills, and you can feel the collective spirit that drives this team.

you can't wait for your bond to grow with your new team

#barcelona femeni #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #aitana bonmati #patri guijarro

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me-loving-woso · 11 months ago

Text

Beach days, new teammates and love confessions

After literally months I am back. This is part 2 of Bruises Apologises and Cookies? It’s 15 k and probably I’ll make also a part 3 cause I am now invested in the story. Let me know if I should go on.

The season ending was a very bittersweet moment for you. From one point of view, you really didn't want to leave your club when they had given you so much.

The fans loved you, your teammates had become family, and the stadium was a second home for you. But you knew that you had to move for your career to flourish and make you reach your full potential.

The last game you played was the final of the Coppa Italia against Juventus. Your captain gave you the armband to lead your team one last time, and you were trying to hold off the emotions welling up. You almost felt like you were betraying the team in a sense. Still, you knew it was only an impression, as everyone was spurring you to go to Barcelona. They only wanted what was best for you.

You won 1-0 in that game, with your goal making the difference. Your teammates made you lift the cup and shed one or two tears. You gave a small farewell speech, and then, for the last time, you rounded your little stadium, where you'd play all of your matches with the team, and said goodbye to your teammates and the fans.

Your mind went on autopilot after that. You pushed away all of your sad feelings in the locker room and in the car to go back home. At home, there you broke down. It was really over. The team, the club that had given you so much, was not your team anymore. And a new adventure was about to start.

The following day, you fled to Eindhoven with some of your friends from the National Team to see the Champions League final. You had promised Mapi that you would be there and also because you were there to meet the coach of Barcelona to finalize the contract with the club.

As soon as you land in Eindhoven, you text Alexia, telling her you have just landed. Your relationship with her had been highly confusing since she welcomed you into her home after the defeat against your team. Something between the two of you had shifted.

She took care of you and made you feel safe in her arms. It had been a long time since you felt like being with her was just casual, on your part at least. Maybe she was just being polite and not actually caring more than necessary. Yet, you would text or call almost daily to talk about your days or just football. She was the first person you told about your move to Barça and she couldn't have been more supportive.

As you texted her at the airport, she told you that you wouldn't see each other before the game because she was stuck in media duties. Still, she informed your friend and soon-to-be teammate that you had landed, so at least you would get to see Mapi.

As soon as you left your suitcase in the hotel, you got to the bar where you told her you would meet her.

"Soo, what are you doing in the summer?" You ask her while you are both eating some way too unhealthy burgers.

"Ingrid and I thought about going to Ibiza for a week; why?"

"Would you like to come to Italy for a few days?" You offer her, every year, you booked this tiny house for the whole summer in Praiano, near an abandoned beach. You thought it was a total steal for how much you had paid for it. You usually would go there with friends or family for a few weeks. It was really your favorite place to be.

"I would love to come, but I don't want you to third-wheel us." You chuckle.

"What makes you say I'm not inviting anyone else?" You smirked suggestively, making her understand what you were insinuating.

"So you finally made it official?" You had asked Alexia to join you for the holidays the last time you saw her when she told you that she had never actually been to Italy if not for a match, you said it was unacceptable, so you offered yourself as a tour guide.

A week or so later, you realize that spending more than a day together would be a bad idea for fear of spilling out your deep, confused, and embarrassing feelings for her. So you decided to invite Mapi along.

"Again. We. Are. Not. Dating." You repeat to her for the millionth time, frankly also trying to convince yourself.

"So you are not going on holiday with her."

"Yes, I am. As friends." You explain, trying to find the right words.

"Only friends?"

"Well, with also some other benefits." Her face turns into a disgusted look. "What?"

"You are talking about my captain, it's weird." Frankly, she will be your skipper too, which meant that you were banging your boss? That was a thought for the future you.

"I really hope you would like to join us if you have nothing better to do." You really hoped she would say yes because you had planned to tell her you were joining Barcelona there.

"I'll talk to Ingrid about it, but you know I can't say no to Italy."

As you return to the hotel, you have a drink with your friends, and then you excuse yourself to go to bed when you hear your phone buzz.

Your Favourite Kickboxer ;)

'You up?'

'Yes, Why are you not asleep? It's late, and tomorrow you have a big game.' You reply.

'Just the nerves are getting to me. Last year with Lyon, we got demolished; I don't want it to happen again. It was difficult to keep the team united after such a loss, and I don't want to disappoint the fans.'

'Can I call you?' She sends another text.

You quickly start a video call, and she immediately picks up.

"Hey, cariño."

"Hey, Ale." You both smile dumbly at each other for a couple of seconds, but then you get interrupted by one of her yawns.

"You need some sleep, piccola, or you will be tired tomorrow. And as for the Lyon thing, you cannot predict the score tomorrow; you just can control how you play and try your best to motivate your team to be the best version of themselves. Lead them to glory, and give it your all. You won't have any regrets if you give everything on the pitch." You try to make her feel better, even though you know she will be stuck in her head all night.

"I'll try my best."

"And the least you could do, after ditching me tonight, is to score a goal for me tomorrow. It's the least." You tease her, making her smile.

"Asking for a goal in a Champions final? You know you are a very hard girl to satisfy, right?" She chuckles, making you feel relieved that you were able to make her feel a little better.

"You would be the expert on that, right?" You smirk suggestively, making her raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, I definitely am." She replies confidently.

"Go to sleep, piccola mia; tomorrow is a big day for you."

"Goodnight, cariño."

"Buonanotte, Ale."

The morning after you woke up, you quickly texted Alexia for good luck.

As soon as you got to the stadium, the tension was palpable, especially when in the first half Barcelona was down 2-0. You were getting extremely nervous and anxious. Your teammates, who were watching the game with you, noticed that. You were biting your nails to the skin. You didn't want them to lose, but if a team could turn around a 2-0, it was going to Barça, or at least you hoped so.

As soon as you saw the players come on the pitch for the second half, they all held an expression you couldn't understand. A mix of determination and hunger, especially Alexia.

The second half started, and not two minutes after, your woman bagged the first goal of the remontada. She ran to her fans, looking at you, making your initial with her hands, making all of your organs flip, fully blushing at the gesture. You really thought that she didn't take seriously what you said the day before.

As soon as she made that gesture, your now ex-teammates, watching the game with you, noticed what had happened and put the dots together.

"It's her, isn't she?" Linari asks you, wearing a shocked expression.

"What?"

"The girl from Barça that you are seeing. It's Alexia Putellas?" You chuckle, turning around to see the game, making her understand she was right. You weren't denying it anymore.

Not even two minutes later, Alexia scores a header, making the score a draw. She ran up to the side of the field, making your initials again and then celebrating with a little bow.

Barcelona was finally on track, and you could see that the intensity was getting much higher than it was before. Alexia played some of her best football in that second half. The game found an advantage with Rölfo when she scored the match's final goal and game-winner.

You saw her lift the trophy, making your heart grow a thousand times bigger on how much you were proud of her.

Then Mapi came to you, and you hugged her, congratulating her. You mingled in the stadium for a little while and finally left to the parking lot. You wanted to see Alexia but knew she needed to focus on celebrating and her teammates. You could text her later when she had the time to reply.

Your Favourite Kickboxer ;)

'Meet me in the hallway at the stadium?'

You quickly excuse yourself from your friends and sneak inside the stadium again. As you were walking down the hallways to find her, you felt two hands sneak up on you, making you turn around.

She quickly picked you up from the air, giving you a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm so proud of you, Ale!" You say, nearly tearing up.

She puts you down, turns her head to look at her surroundings, and then kisses you quickly, catching you completely off guard. "I have to return to Barcelona now, but I couldn't leave without seeing you." She says excitedly, you had never seen her this happy.

"You did it! You scored two goals. You are champions once again! I'm so fucking proud of you, Ale!"

"Did you see! I did your initials. Two goals for you, cariño! I probably wouldn't have won the trophy if it wasn't for you." She places her hands on your cheeks, smiling.

"I didn't do anything. It's all on you. I just gave you a little reassurance."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. I have to go now! I have a trophy to bring back to Barcelona. I'll see you in two weeks, cariño." She gives you a quick peck on the lips and then leaves for the dressing room.

The next day, your Instagram was swarmed by pictures of her celebration and a video of the team that was clearly hungover Alexia included, which made you chuckle.

That day, you were leaving for Praiano with some of your closest friends from the Roma team. You had invited them to spend the last days in Italy with you before you moved to Barcelona.

The club announced your signing in the middle of the transfer season so as not to overshadow your signing for the Champion's League win; you thought it was totally unnecessary, but LaPorta wanted to give you a 'proper welcome.'

The day of your announcement coincided with the day Mapi would arrive in Italy. You really wanted to be the one telling her that you would be joining her team, so you talked to Ingrid, begging her to not make your friend open her phone for that day. They would stay with you for five days before leaving for Norway. In contrast, Alexia would remain with you for the whole week, which was something that you were looking forward to some alone time with her. Still, you were also nervous about being alone with her in fear of blurting out your surely unrequited feelings for her.

As soon as her flight landed, you went to pick her up,

She was wearing some Barça shorts and a baggy t-shirt, wearing a messy bun, and walking towards you. As soon as she was close enough, you ran up to her and hugged her, which she soon reciprocated, picking you up from the air.

"Hey, cariño."

"Hi, champion." She put you down, buried her head in the crook of your neck, and placed a small kiss there.

Then you took her suitcase, grabbed her hand and led her outside the airport. As soon as you get into the car, she takes your hand again and never returns it for the rest of the trip.

"How was the flight?"

"It was good, though nobody speaks Spanish here; they just add the S to the end of every word in Italian. It's so annoying." She pouts cutely.

"Welcome to Italy."

"So, is Mapi already here?"

"No, they are coming tomorrow morning; they had an issue with the plane tickets."

"So we are alone tonight?" She grins suggestively while you quickly nod at her before focusing back on the road. "So, what are the plans for tonight?"

"It depends on how tired you are." She had just had a whole week celebrating with her teammates, and you could understand if she wanted a relaxed night in. You turn around to see her expression, a mix between a smirk and a suggestive glare. "Oh my god, woman! I didn't mean it like that! I'm more than just a body." You remark jokingly as if you weren't thinking about the same thing as her.

"I know. I love your body." She kisses the back of your hand. "Just as much as I love what it's inside here." She lightly taps your temple, making you slightly blush at her compliment. "SO, what are the plans for tonight?"

"If you are up to it, I wanted to take you out to dinner; since you say that Spanish food is better than Italian, I want to prove you wrong. And if you still have some energy, we can go for a walk later; I can show you around the city."

"I'm good for anything you want to."

As soon as you get to the house, Alexia's eyes widen.

"Oh wow, this is beautiful." She opens her mouth in wonder.

"Wait until you see the beach!"

You stop the car and take her suitcase inside the house while she is toeing behind you. You take her outside to see the small private beach.

"How did you find this place?" She marvels, still looking at the clear water in front of her.

"We used to come here when I was little; I've actually started saving up money to buy this place. The owner loves me and has no kids, so he is okay with me buying it."

She turns to you, taking you by your sides. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"No problem."

"Now, can you show me the room? I would like to change clothes."

You grab her hand and take her inside the tiny house. "I'm sorry it's a little messy." You still had some bottles of wine opened and some glasses on the table from the previous night. "My friends left this morning, and I still didn't have time to clean up."

"If that is messy for you, you don't want to come to my house during the holiday season." She lightly jokes.

You take her to one of the spare rooms, where she places her suitcase on top of the bed, and then she quickly looks at her surroundings, confused.

"Is this your room? Because I don't see your stuff in here."

"No, my room is over there." You point at the end of the hallway.

"Just take me to your room; we are going to sleep on the same bed anyway." She says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, I thought that you might want your own space."

"You have to stop being so accommodating. If I wanted my space, I would've stayed at home. I came here because I wanted to be with you. So stop being so cautious around me and take me to your room." She says, using her commanding voice that she only used on certain occasions, which she knew had an effect on you.

You take her to your room, which is the best room in the house. It was the biggest and had a great sea view outside the window.

You leave to make her change while you go in the living room.

She wore shorts, her bikini, and an open button-down shirt when she returned. You chuckled when you looked at her; she was really feeling the beach mood.

"Let's go outside!" She says excitedly.

"Wait, I still have to finish cleaning up, and then I have to go upstairs and finish some other stuff. I'll be there in a couple of minutes." You tell her you really wanted everything to be perfect for this week.

"Nope."

"What, sorry?"

"You are on holiday, so stop trying to make everything perfect; it's already perfect as it is, and come outside with me." She insists, making you giggle at her stubbornness.

"But-"

"No buts. You deserve to relax just as much as I do." She quickly approaches you, grabs you by the waist, and drags you outside.

"Alexia!"

She puts you down on your small patio when you get outside. She places your hands on your cheeks. "Now, let me do something I've wanted to do for two weeks. Can I kiss you?"

"You really don't have to ask anymore." You reply, standing up on your tippy toes to kiss her. It was slow and soft, and you could feel her smile through the kiss. She picks you up, and you can feel her begin moving. You needed to find out where she was going and why. But you were too caught up in her to understand what was happening. Then you hear some splashes and the sound of the waves. You break the kiss and look around: she brought you into the water, and she was wearing a mischievous smirk.

"Alexia, don't you dare!" You warn her. She was trying to throw you into the water. She responds to you by chuckling and releasing her grip from your body, making you wrap your legs even tighter to not fall down to the water. "Alexia, come on, I still have clothes on." You tried to convince her, but she looked like she didn't care. So she began tickling you on your sides, which she knew was your ticklish spot. You tried to squirm from her touch, but you lost balance and fell in the water while the woman beside you, still standing, started laughing.

“Tua madre in carriola!” You exclaim, slightly irritated that you had all your clothes drenched in water, but you couldn't fully care when there she was. You have never seen her as carefree and happy as now. You felt blessed that she was here, right now, with you, being like this, trying to make you finally relax and enjoy some vacation when it was nearly impossible, as you'd always stress about something.

"You know that I didn't understand anything you said, right? Only something about my mom." She chuckles. You quickly go underwater and grab her legs, making her fall into the water.

"Tu puta madre!"

"See! At least I didn't call your mom a bitch." You tease her while she fixes her wet hair. "And this is payback!" You finish, crossing your arms and wearing a proud smirk. You see her expression change from irritation to determination while swimming towards you. She picked you up and threw you with her in the water, and that is how you spent your afternoon. Stolen kisses, laughs, and a whole lot of competitiveness. Honestly, you couldn't ask for more.

After the both of you had calmed down after laughing and playfully fighting in the water, you swam to her. You made her wrap her legs around your waist while she was stabling herself, putting your hands on your shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, you always pick me up from the ground; we can switch roles occasionally." You tell her, lightly rubbing her thighs; you really missed having her close to you.

She replies by giving you a soft kiss, then begins to look at you, smiling.

"What?" You ask her, feeling yourself combust at the intense eye contact.

"I just really missed your face, cariño." She says, peppering feathery kisses all over your face.

How dare she say stuff like that when you try your best to keep inside your confusing and strong feelings for her.

"I missed you too, piccola." You blurt out, kissing her jaw, holding her a little tighter. You really didn't want to let her go. You had created this little bubble in which the both of you were enjoying each other's presence, not caring about what you were to each other, but just having fun with no constraints and being in each other's company.

"I think we should get inside." And the bubble popped.

You get inside the house with your clothes soaked and take turns to shower. It had been more than six months since the last time you were able to touch her, and you felt your body yearn for her. Yes, you had kissed, but nothing more than that.

You took her out to dinner in a small place near the city.

You really needed help to differentiate this dinner from a date. It had everything that a date would entail. Good food, subtle and not-so-subtle flirting, and great banter. The subtle touches under the table or the shared knowing glance made your heart skip a beat. This dinner felt like a date, but you knew it wasn't. And that made you feel a sort of uncomfortableness that wasn't easy to set aside to fully enjoy your night with her.

As soon as you finished eating, you took her for a walk around the city, and you would tell her anecdotes of what you did in those places you were walking by when you were a child.

You arrive at a park, and you both sit down on the swings.

"You know, this is actually where I had my first kiss." She turns to look at you, wearing a curious grin.

"Here? In this park?"

"Yeah. It was here. Actually, on this swing."

"Now you have to explain." She asks you curiously.

"Well, I was thirteen. We were a group of five kids, and we would come here every afternoon to have fun and play with the ball. I remember this boy always looking at me, and one day, we were alone at the park. I was on the swing; he made me close my eyes, gave me a flower, and kissed me."

"Oh my god, it's so cute!"

"No, it wasn't. It was very weird. But I think it was just me who didn't want to be handed a rose by a boy, much rather a girl. But that would be a problem for a future 14-year-old me. In hindsight, I think that it should have been the first clue of me liking girls." You chuckle, reminiscing about that young boy who made you realize that kissing boys was disgusting.

"Turn around." You see her standing up with a determined grin.

"What?"

"Just indulge me. Turn around." You turn around, your body closing your eyes expectantly.

"Okay, you can look now." You turn to face her and see a daisy in her hand.

"Well, this might not be a rose. But it is a flower." She hands you the flower shyly, making you chuckle lightly at her cuteness.

"And you are a girl and not a boy." You state.

"So, can I kiss you? I'll ask because I don't think that poor boy asked you."

"Nah, he didn't. But as I told you before, you no longer have to ask."

"Kissing you shouldn't be something you can take for granted." She replies, leaning into you and weighing the swing's chains.

After more than thirteen years, you recreate your first kiss. And this time, it feels right. It was as if you were meant to recreate it with someone who mattered, who would make you feel excited and nervous about how the little boy felt when he was kissing you. And you felt the same way with her, and every time you kissed her,

As soon as she breaks off the quick kiss, you remark, "I think you are a better kisser than that poor boy."

"I mean, I'd hope. I'm 29. He was your age."

"Don't get too cocky now. You were slightly better." You tease her. Making her lean into you and give you a searing kiss so that you'd know for sure that if you weren't sat on that swing, probably your knees would give out. It had an intensity that seemed out of place for being in a children's park. But neither of you seemed to care. It was dawn, the playground was abandoned, and you missed kissing her.

And most certainly she was just getting competitive because you told her she was slightly better at kissing than a thirteen-year-old. She wanted to wipe away any doubt about her kissing skills.

She breaks the kiss by lightly biting your lower lip, making you feel all hazy.

"Just slightly better?" She smirks proudly.

You didn't hear a word she said, as you were too busy falling down from the high she had just given you to actually understand words spoken to you in a different language by one of the hottest women you have ever seen. "What did you say?"

"I'll take that as a no." She lightly chuckles, taking your hand and walking to the park exit.

"Let's go home." She whispers, placing a small kiss on your temple.

The walk back to your holiday home was on autopilot. She took the lead on the conversation, asking you questions about the week's plans with your other two friends. As soon as you get home, you go to your small kitchen to get a glass of water while she toes behind you. As soon as you finish drinking, she comes closer to you, putting her hands on your waist and making you retreat until you hit the kitchen counter.

"Thank you for tonight. I really had fun." She smiles earnestly.

"I'm glad that you like it here."

"Oh, I love it here. Even though I think that the people in this place have an average age of 72." She jokes

"Nah, 75. In fact, there is only one kid in the whole town. And the father is actually the boy of the kiss in the park."

"Well, at least he moved on."

"Yeah, it was very tough for him, but eventually, after a very long time, he found love again. But again, how could you ever move on from someone like me." You joke.

"I don't know. Well, nearly after a year, I'm still here, so something right you must be doing." She teases you.

"Or maybe you just can't find better." You raise an eyebrow suggestively.

"I don't think there is better to find, honestly." Her gaze softens as she says those words, making you blush, hiding your face by placing your forehead on her chest, hiding from her. She pulls her hands away from your waist and puts them on your cheeks to try to move your head from her to see your face. "What?" She asks.

"You have to stop saying things like that."

"Why? I mean it." She reassures you.

"I- You know why." You try to make her understand, not fully saying out loud feelings; try to make her understand them instead without fully exposing yourself.

"I'd rather you say it."

You take a deep breath. "Alexia, do you want to go on-" Your phone rings and you look from your watch to who is calling you "I have to take this."

You squirm away from her touch and leave to go outside.

"Pronto, Emma. Tutto bene?" It was your best friend whom you hadn't seen in a year and a half. She never called without asking you beforehand, so you thought it was pretty important.

"Si, tutto bene. Ti devo dire una cosa.” She replies excitedly, making you release a sigh of relief that nothing bad had happened.

Ten minutes later, you come back to Alexia wearing one of your biggest smiles.

"Is everything okay?" She asks, still waiting for you in the same spot as you left her.

"More than okay!" You reply excitedly, walking quickly to her. "My best friend is getting married, and I'll be the maid of honor." You place your hands on her shoulders, then slowly move them to her neck, lightly playing with her hair. "Now, where were we?" You knew exactly how you left her; you were about to blurt out your feelings for her, but you decided to ignore the problem and not dwell on it too much. Instead, you kissed her. The kissing led to something else, and for the first time in more than six months, time froze, and you were back again in her arms.

The next morning, you wake up to the alarm with hair on your face and an arm holding you down. You had a headache and clearly were sleep-deprived. You open your phone and look at the time. It's 10 AM.

"Fuck!" You sit up, making the woman on your side slowly wake up. "Alexia, wake up. We are late; we should've been in the car by now."

You say, rushing out of your bed to quickly change. You had promised Mapi that you would drive her to your house from the airport because you thought it would be a waste of money to book a taxi when you had a perfectly functioning car that could drive you anywhere.

In five minutes, you were able to dress, brush your teeth, and get in the car. Thankfully, you remembered to shower the night before, so you didn't have to do it in the morning; you felt bad for Alexia, as you could see that she wasn't used to this level of rushedness, that you were more than used to as you always tended to sleep in, and eventually have to rush to get in time to train or to games.

You closed the door to the house while Alexia was still halfway done putting her shirt on. As soon as the both of you got into the car and slammed the door, you looked at each other and started laughing.

"Okay, those were the quickest five minutes of my life." She says while catching her breath.

"We totally overslept, and we are totally going to be late." You chuckle, starting the engine of your car.

"We can always say that we found traffic." She offers.

You definitely and not-so-subtly speed to the airport and then quickly call your friend to tell her that you are finally at the airport.

"I'm really sorry. We found traffic on the way here." You tell Mapi while you go to hug her and Ingrid. As your friend goes to hug Alexia, you turn to Ingrid and whisper, "Did she already open her Instagram?" You were trying to hold off her discovering that you were a Barça player; you really wanted to tell her, and that day would be the day that Barcelona would announce your signing.

"No, she didn't, but I can't hold off her phone for long." She replies, breaking off the hug and going to Mapi's side and beginning to catch up on her life and yours.

"Oh my God, I forgot to tell you! Emma is getting married!"

"No way! She's finally settled down?!" Everyone who knew the both of you always thought that you would be the first one to marry, as Emma has always been the hot mess between the two of you, afraid of commitment. "Is she marrying the same guy from college?" She asks you.

"Yep." You turn around to look at Alexia and Ingrid, and then you explain. "When I was in college when I met Kate, my ex, Emma met this guy who studied economics and finance at our same university. They got together way before Kate and I. He's so dumb. I love him so much. They are perfect for each other."

You turn again to face your tattooed friend, "Wait, is that a hickey?" Her face is adorned with a knowing smirk while pointing at your neck, making you subconsciously hide it with your hand.

"No, it's not! It's a bruise." You try to explain, mentally trying to remember to scold Alexia as soon as you got her alone.

"It's so not!" She chuckles, surprised, making you turn around to glance angrily at Alexia, who replies with an innocent smile. "Is that the reason why you were late?"

"No! We found traffic on the way here, as I told you before."

"Yes!" Alexia casually backs you up, making your other two friends understand it was a lie.

As soon as you get into the car, Mapi is about to take out her phone to put music on when you stop her, saying that only the passenger in the front, Alexia, could put the music on, which was a lie, but you really didn't want her to see her phone.

As soon as you got home, the couple went to their room to unpack the suitcase while you and Alexia put on your bathing suit and went outside to the beach to sunbathe. You were reading some book, trying to focus on the words of the book rather than the woman who was lying half-naked on your right. Which was getting increasingly more difficult whenever she would move or place soft caresses on your back, trying to get your attention.

"Hey." You turn to look at her.

"Hey, cariño. I'm sorry for the hickey. I got a little carried away yesterday night." She apologizes shyly, making you forgive her in the blink of an eye.

"Don't worry about it." You come closer to her, placing a hand on her chest, and give her a small kiss. You brush your noses together and tell each other sweet nothings, creating a small bubble that neither of you wants to pop. "I know that I'm a person who doesn't express much of her feelings vocally, but I just wanted to say that I'm really glad that you are here with me."

"Honestly, there is no place I'd rather be, cariño. By your side is where I am the happiest."

You move your lips closer to her, about to kiss her, when you hear the door of the house open and see your friends coming outside. You make your forehead fall on her shoulder while you feel her sigh displeased. You slowly move away from her and sit up.

"I'm still not used to seeing this." Your friend says while pointing at the both of you, making her girlfriend roll her eyes at her.

You spend the morning in your small private beach playing card games and catching up with each other.

In the afternoon, it was when the club would announce your signing, so you decided to tell her at that moment. You had brought your Barcelona shirt to be able to announce it away from Barcelona. You told the club that you wouldn't be able to fly to Barcelona for your signing because you had already booked your holidays, so you did all the photoshoots and signing beforehand.

The first hours of the afternoon had always been the hottest, so you all decided to come inside and plan together your four days ahead.

You go to your room and retrieve the Barça shirt. Then you leave to go to your living room. "Oh, and by the way, I decided on my future club." You say casually, sitting down on the couch next to Alexia, facing Mapi.

"You are renewing with Roma, right?" She asks curiously. "I heard some rumors saying that they offered you a big contract."

"Yeah, they did offer me a huge contract. But I decided to leave; check your phone." You look at the time on your watch. "I think they just made the announcement." You tell her excitedly.

She quickly checks her phone, then turns to look at you smiling. "You'll be a Barça player?" You slowly nod, taking out the shirt with your name on it and showing it to her.

"I wanted to be the one who told you; that's why Ingrid never let you use your phone today." You say while standing up to hug her.

"I'm so happy! We can finally win the Champions League together! Like we always dreamed about!" She says excitedly, looking at the shirt. "Have you already decided on the number? I know that yours has always been the 16."

"I don't care, honestly. I'm just glad to be a Barcelona player. Plus, Rölfo already has the 16. I don't want her to change numbers for me."

"It's already settled, cariñ- Y/n." Alexia interjects, making you turn to look at her. "I know how much the number means to you, and Frido already wanted to change the number to 18, so I asked her if she wanted to make the swap. If you want it, you'll have the 16."

"Ale, there was no need to do that!" You felt your heart explode with affection at the thought that she would do this for you without even asking her or talking about it.

"I know. But I wanted to." You lock eyes, and for a moment, it is as if you are the only one in the room. "Now, do you want me to take a picture of you for the announcement?"

You posted on your Instagram a picture of you and your friend holding your Barça announcement shirt, with the caption: 'Reunited with this one.'

The rest of the week passed in a blur, from boat trips to visiting nearby cities and loads of food; you finally felt at peace and ready for your new adventure in Barcelona.

You would stay one last week in Italy with your family to finish packing up, and then you would leave for Barcelona. You found a beautiful apartment near the training grounds, and it had everything you dreamed of. Huge kitchen, a small garden, and a great view of the city.

Everything felt perfect. Alexia was going to pick you up from the airport, you thought it was unnecessary and a waste if her time, but then you gave in, wanting to see more of the woman who had been on your mind ever since that week in Italy, maybe even from before.

As soon as you landed, you got the terrible news from your landlord that a pipe from your apartment had just exploded, which meant that for more than a week, you would be homeless.

As you walk sadly to the exit of the airport, you find Alexia smiling at you as soon as she sees you, but then, as soon as she sees your expression, her smile fades into an expression of worry. You go to hug her, circling your arms on her waist. "Are you okay, cariño?" She asks worriedly.

You bury your head in her shirt, feeling the warmth and comfort she is exuding and taking it all in.

"A pipe from my new apartment just exploded. I am homeless for a week, and I need to find a hotel not too far from the training grounds."

"We'll find a solution together. Now let's go to the car and go home." She takes one of your suitcases, puts her arm on your shoulder, and pulls you close to her, dragging you to her Cupra.

As you enter the car, you melt into the car seat, taking Alexia's hand and giving it a couple of kisses. She turned on the engine of the car and proceeded to leave the infinite parking area of the Barcelona airport.

"If it's not a problem, you can always stay with me." She offered when you asked her if she knew any hotels near the training grounds. "Because I really don't think you'd want a week of Mapi and Ingrid together." She jokes, clearly making a point, because as much as you love both girls, they are disgustingly in love, and being around them made you feel miserable with your current situation with Alexia.

"Ale, I don't want to intrude. You need your space, and until I'm settled in, I'll take up a lot of it. And I don't want you to feel like you have to because you stayed in my home during the holidays," You say.

"I'm not offering because I feel some sort of obligation. I'm offering because I care about you, and I'd hate for you to be stuck in a hotel when you can simply stay at my place."

"Are you sure?"

She chuckles at your stubbornness, "Yes, I'm sure, cariño. But I do have one condition that I cannot overrule." She becomes immediately serious, making you unconsciously sit up. "You have to bake me those darn cookies." Her condition makes you chuckle. "I want to bring them to my mamá."

"I'll bake you all the cookies you want, piccola mia."

You get to her home, and as soon as she opens the door, you are met with a ball of fur asking for your attention, which you gladly give to her.

That evening, you baked your cookies together, fully knowing that the next day would be your first day of training, so it acted more as a stress relief rather than something you were doing for someone else. Which wasn't a problem for you, as it had always been your love language, acts of service, and cooking for other people. But strangely enough, you weren't feeling at all that anxious, and most certainly, even if you wouldn't admit it to yourself, it was Alexia's merit.

Her presence seemed to ground you and anchor you to the real world, not making you overthink or go in a spiral of intrusive and not good thoughts.

You loved how, even though she didn't know how to bake, she would try her best to do whatever you wanted her to do, making you grin at her concentrated looks whenever she didn't understand something.

As you went to bed that night, you were cuddling up in Alexia's bed.

"So, are you excited about tomorrow?" She asks you.

"I am a little nervous, but yes, I'm very excited. I'm finally playing for my dream club, and honestly, I couldn't be asking for more. But I do have a question, though: Do you know how many people know about us on the team?"

"Mapi has been a good friend, but for now, only she and Ingrid know. But if you are asking me if I'll treat you differently than what I've been doing now, the answer is no. Of course, I'll not be kissing you because we are at work, but I'll never avoid you."

"You'll have plenty of time to kiss me on other occasions then." You give her a small peck on the lips and go back to your previous position, falling asleep in her arms, looking forward to the next day.

The next day, you have breakfast together and then leave for the training grounds. As soon as you get there, Alexia goes in for training, whereas you go and meet all the training staff and Jonatan Giraldez. You were nervous, as you always hated to meet new coaches.

"Hey, Mister."

"Hey, Y/n. I'm so glad to finally have you on my team. It has been two years now that you have been my number 6 choice. I hope we can work well together." He says, shaking your hand, making you blush lightly at the compliment.

"I will do my best to be the best player I can be." You say.

"I'm sure you will. Now, before going to train and meet your future teammates, even though I know you already know some of them, you unfortunately have some media to attend to."

He accompanies you to a room full of interviewers from Barça TV and some other places, and the interviews begin.

"Hello, Y/n Y/ln. May I ask you some questions?" He asks politely, and you slightly nod.

"Welcome to Barcelona; what made you decide to leave your former club to join Barcelona?"

"Barça has always been my dream club, ever since I was a child. I remember that my uncle wanted me to become an Inter fan, whereas my other one wanted me to become a Milan fan, but as soon as I saw Barcelona play, I was completely taken by their style of play, and it was this club and Messi, that made me fall in love with the sport, so I will always be forever grateful to this club, for giving me this opportunity."

"Y/n, you have the impossible task of replacing one of the best CDMs in the world, Keira Walsh, who had just returned to her childhood club, Man City, with Lucy Bronze; how do you think you will fit that role?"

"Woah, huge question." You lightly joke, earning chuckles from the interviewer. "I think Walsh is one of the best CDMs in the world right now, if not the best. It's not going to be an easy task to 'replace' a player like her, if we can say that. But I'll give it my all to this team, and even if I won't be the best 6 in the world, I'll definitely be the best version of myself to play for this historic team. It's my dream."

"Who are you most excited to play with?"

"Of course, Mapi. We played together during our Atletico days, and I always thought that we worked very well together. But honestly, all of them, I'm really excited to play in midfield with Aitana Bonmati and Alexia Putellas and one of the most underrated players of all time, Patri Guijarro."

"How do you feel about playing with Alexia Putellas, given the circumstances of your previous encounters?" You furrow your eyebrows at the question.

"You mean, given that the last time we played against each other, she nearly broke my nose?" You say lightheartedly, making the people understand that you weren't holding any grudge against her.

The English interviewer quickly nods. "As I said in previous interviews, I think Alexia is a great player and a great person, both on and off the pitch. She will be my new skipper, and I couldn't ask for anyone better. In our previous encounters, I think we were just unfortunate, and when you play with a person who is physically bigger and stronger than you, injuries may happen. But I don't hold any type of grudge against her; in fact, we actually joked about the fact that if she weren't a football player, she could definitely be a kickboxer."

"And that is all for today; thank you, Y/n."

"Thank you all for being here and Visca el Barça."

You quickly exit the room and speed walk to the changing rooms to get ready for your first training with the team. As soon as you put on the shirt, you immediately touch the badge of your new team and automatically smile. You had finally made it, and you couldn't be happier.

You put on your cleats and go outside to talk to your coach. All the other girls were making rondos or juggling with the ball, making you feel a little bit like a fish out of the sea. For a slight moment, you were slightly regretting coming to Barcelona but you knew that it was just your mind playing tricks on you and that you deserved to be there just as much as the girls who were already training.

"So, coach, do you want me to run a few laps or do some drills with the ball?" You tell him, feeling ready to do anything, even running, jumping up and down from your standing position.

"Oh no." He chuckles. "I don't know if you do this in Italy, but here at Barcelona, for every new player, we do the guard of honor."

"Oh no, we don't have to." You say shyly, not wanting to be at the center of attention.

"Oh yeah, it's tradition." He spurs you on, making you go with him on the pitch to your new teammates.

"Girls!" He screams, making all of them turn around. "As you already know, Y/n will be our new 16, so take care of her and make her feel at home!" He says, making you awkwardly wave at your teammates, embarrassed. Mapi walks excitedly to you and gives you a hug.

"Is your coach always like this?" You ask her, still embarrassed.

"Yep, get used to it."

"I will never get used to wearing these colors," you say, putting your hand on your badge.

"You deserve it more than anyone." She leads you to your teammates, and one by one, you get introduced to them, even though you already knew most of them, never leaving your side, for which you were eternally grateful to her. You leave Alexia for last, and she gives you a quick hug and a reassuring look, which is what you need to finally ground yourself.

They all line up to give you the guard of honor, which you try to make them not do, but Mapi basically pushes you to run, feeling all the smacks on your back as you are running. The training was great after that. You managed to talk and get to know everyone, and everyone was so nice to you.

The intensity, though, was something that you had never experienced before. The Barça rhythms were definitely higher than the ones from Roma, but you weren't the one who would give up that easily, overworking your body, trying to prove yourself to the coach.

You were on a water break, trying to catch your breath, putting your hands on your knees, straightening your back. You feel a hand at the back of your neck lightly squeezing, asking for your attention. You immediately recognize her touch, even though you didn't see her. You turn around to look at her, and you are met with a worried look.

“Are you okay, cariñ- Y/n?“

"So good." You say breathlessly. "I just have to get used to this much running, that's all."

"Do you want me to talk to the coach?"

"I don't need any special treatment, Alexia." You squirm away from her and jump on Mapi's back, interrupting her from some conversation she was having with Pina and Patri. You felt bad about leaving Alexia like that, so coldly, but then again, you always hated when people were concerned about your physical health or were just trying to help; it made you vulnerable, and you hated that. You immediately regretted how you talked to Alexia and decided that after practice, you would apologize to her.

When practice ended, you were exhausted but still very happy. Alexia was practicing free kicks as everyone left to change.

"Piccola mia, I'm really sorry about how I replied to you today." You say regretfully, placing your hand on her back, making her turn to you.

"I wasn't trying to give you any special treatment, Y/n." What happened to cariño? "I am your captain; if you feel bad or worn out, it's my responsibility to help you." She replies sadly, playing with the ball on her feet.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I just hate when people are worried about me. It makes me feel vulnerable. And I know you were just worried, so I'm really sorry."

"I know you are. Come here and give me a proper hug." She opens her arms for you, which you gladly take, and circle your arms around her waist, putting your head on her chest. Those types of hugs with her were your favorite hugs.

"Now, are you ready for the initiation?"

You break off the hug and look at her, puzzled. "What initiation? Mapi never told me anything."

"Well, it's more like a team bonding get-together with karaoke."

"So I have to sing? Will you sing too?"

"I am not singing, but you are a newbie, so you have to." She explains as if she were stating the obvious.

"The hell I am not."

"The hell you are." She chuckles.

"I do love music, but I do not sing. When I am sober, at least."

"You kinda have to; it's a tradition. Everyone has done it. It's about shedding any fear of embarrassment."

"But Ale-"

"Nope, it's settled." You sigh at her words and then leave to go to the dressing room.

“Goodbye capitana.”

“Goodbye cariño.”

In the meantime, Mapi and Patri were watching your interaction with Ale from afar.

"I've never seen Alexia this… soft? It feels weird." Patri states to her friend.

"Who? Alexia and Y/n?" Mapi asks dumbly, trying not to give out any details.

"I never specified Y/n." She raises an eyebrow. "Wait. Do you know something?" The midfielder's face turns into a wide smirk.

"I don't have anything to say to you that I should say."

"So you have something for me that you shouldn't say?" She asks, flipping the situation.

"Stop using wordy sentences to make me confused."

"You didn't reply to my question. Are they dating? Wait, is she the girl we all thought a couple of months ago fucked her?"

"I don't know anything! If you are really that curious, go and ask her!" Your friend replies defensively, really trying not to spill any secrets.

At that moment, you walked through the door and saw your friend, "You didn't tell me I had to sing?! Oh hey, Patri." You turn around to your new teammates happily waving at her, and then you go back to point your finger angrily at your friend.

"Oh, come on! How bad it could be! You were in a band, after all." She says

"You were in a band?" Patri asks curiously.

"I had a really dark past.." You explain quickly and dramatically. "Plus, you know well I didn't sing!"

"Oh, come on. Don't be too dramatic. I'll get you a couple of drinks, then you'll sing something, and that's that."

That evening, you were exhausted from your training, so you decided to have a power nap in Alexia's house, which she gladly joined you in. After a couple of hours, you were ready to go and left for the pub, where you would meet the girls from the team.

As soon as you get there, you leave Alexia to go to Mapi and mingle with some of the Spanish girls in that group, Ona, Aitana, Pina, and Patri. While Alexia went to talk to the older girls and her friends from the national team. Some hours in the night passed, and you were really glad that you were getting along with everybody from the team.

At first, you were very shy with them, but thankfully, Mapi, and in some instances Alexia, helped you a little to open up and make your teammates able to get to know you. Some girls were drinking, but you decided not to, and many of them started off the karaoke, making you sometimes laugh at their stupidity, whereas in others, you would clap at them.

You knew that your turn was coming when you saw Mapi run to another room and come out with a guitar in her hand, making you roll her eyes at her, completely understanding her intentions. You used to play the guitar when you were younger, and you actually were quite good at it. But you hadn't played in so long, and as the hype woman your best friend was and the fact that she loved embarrassing you, fully knowing you hated being the center of attention, she brought a guitar just for everybody to see and ask you about it.

She handed it to you, making you chuckle at her sarcastically, but she was wearing this proud smirk, which showed that she wasn't doing this just to make you uncomfortable and tease but also to show you off, which you thought was very unnecessary.

You open the guitar case, and you see a beautiful acoustic guitar.

"Where did you get this? Did you steal it?" You joke, admiring the guitar.

"The guy behind the bar recognized us and gave me the guitar."

"Do you play the guitar, Y/n?" Ona asks you curiously, making you turn your head around the table.

"Well, I used to play it; I haven't played in a very long time." You say while you pick it up and run the strings through your hands. You stopped playing the guitar when you left for Chelsea. Usually, music was your happy place, but when you moved out from Spain and broke up with Kate, your love for the instrument dissipated, and you wouldn't bring yourself to do something that you enjoyed so much.

"You should play something for us," Patri adds excitedly.

"Oh no." You reply shyly, putting away the guitar. "I haven't played in so long, plus I don't think I remember much, and I really don't want to embarrass myself." You chuckle nervously, hoping that they will let it go. In the meantime, the guitar thing caught some attention, so now, not only was your table waiting for you to play something, but everyone in your group and some other clients in the pub were waiting for you to play something.

"Oh nonsense, you know that you have to perform; if you don't play the guitar, you'll have to sing. So you decide…" Mapi spurs you on. You take a deep breath and move your chair to the little stage where the people would normally sing karaoke. You quickly tune the guitar, and then you finally feel all the eyes on you.

"Okay, if I get some notes wrong, please don't laugh at me." You look at Alexia one last time, who is somehow sitting with Mapi now, and she gives you a reassuring smile.

So you begin playing one of your favorite songs on the guitar; every time you play it, it reminds you of when life was fun and simple. Whenever you played it, you would get lost in the music and daydream of what those sounds elicit. (If you want to hear it, it's 'Mutter' from Rob Scallon, the live version)

As soon as you start playing, your tattooed friends turn to Alexia.

"Good luck, my friend." She pats her back ironically.

"What, why?" Alexia whispers, still trying to give you her full undivided attention.

"If she still plays like she played years ago, she has this way of conveying many emotions. Either they are sad or happy; whenever she plays something, she amplifies it by a thousand. The song that she is about to play is going to hit you like a ton of bricks, believe me."

The song begins slowly, but then it gets faster and fuller. It made you regret to decide this piece after not playing in so long, but you loved it, and honestly, you really wanted to show off a little to your teammates and, most definitely, to Alexia. Thankfully, this worry of making mistakes was quickly forgotten when you began getting lost in the music. You really missed being able to play and express yourself in this way.

As soon as you finish the song with the last chord, you don't dare to look at your teammates; only when you hear the claps do you lightly blush and turn your gaze around the room, searching for those beautiful eyes that have the capacity to render you hopeless, but you couldn't see her, nor your friend for that matter.

Your performance was nearly finished, and Alexia never took her eyes off you; she thought that what Mapi said was right; your performance hit her like a ton of bricks, but more than anything, it brought out a huge realization that Alexia could quite withstand, so she left, to go to the bathroom, trying to get some space. Mapi quickly followed her friend, and as soon as they were inside the small room, the defender turned to pacing Alexia.

"Woahh, hey, calm down. What happened?" She asks the midfielder, placing her hands on her shoulders, trying to stop her from walking around the room.

She takes a deep breath, "Mapi, I have a problem. A huge one."

"Okay, tell me what it is; I know that we can find a solution to it." Her shorter friend reassures her, clearly shocked to see her captain in this state.

"I don't think we can. I just realized that I am in love with her." She says, putting her hands on her face.

"Who?"

"Who? Mapi really? Lady Gaga. No Y/n, you idiot."

"Sorry, I just wanted to check. But why is it such a problem?"

"Because we decided not to have anything serious, and I really don't want to get rejected when I was the one that continuously pointed out that we weren't dating whenever someone asked."

"I think she feels the same. No. I know that she feels the same. Gosh, I spent five days with you two alone in a house; I can understand when two of my best friends are in love with each other. Eyes don't lie. And don't you dare tell that you haven't been already acting like a couple for at least 6 months now!"

"Do you really think that?"

"I know that. Just tell her how you feel. You won't lo-"

You open the door to the bathroom, searching for Alexia. She had been missing for a couple of minutes now, so you were a little worried that she might have been sick.

"Oh, here you are! I thought you left or you were sick!" You say happily when you finally find Alexia and Mapi, but then you notice something wrong with her, as if she was shaken up. "Wait, are you okay?" You asked, worried, coming closer to her.

"I'm okay, cariño." She reassures you, and then her expression changes into something happier and more proud. "I didn't know you were so good at playing the guitar!"

"I was better a long time ago. I haven't played in years, but this woman here." You point at Mapi quickly, "Can't mind her own business."

"Thankfully, she didn't; I know for sure you wouldn't have told me that you are good at playing an instrument."

"I would have told you!" You cross your arms, pouting.

"No, you wouldn't." She shakes her head, smiling, while Mapi nods, backing her up. "You'd hate for anybody to know that you are good at something, just in fear of being at the center of the attention." She explains, making you blink twice. It felt as if you were an open book for her to read and understand you perfectly.

"Get out of my head." You remark shyly, earning from her a chuckle. "So you liked the song?" You ask shyly and insecurely.

She gently places her hands on your cheeks, gently caressing them to give you some reassurance. "I loved it; you are a wonderful guitar player, cariño."

"Thank you." You lightly blush. For a moment, you forget that Mapi is in the same room as the two of you because you place your finger on your lips to silently ask her to kiss you. Which she gladly does, feeling her smile against your lips

"I'm still here, you know!" Mapi interrupts you from your little moment, irritated. "Bleah, I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing this." You raise your middle finger at her, still kissing Alexia, fully starting to make out with her. You hear the door shut, making you temporarily pull away from her to look behind you, then resuming back to kissing her.

Five minutes later, you both decide to go back to your teammates, but as the night progresses, you feel yourself getting more and more tired, making all of your clinginess appear. You would orbit around Alexia more, trying to find some physical comfort in her presence, even though you really didn't want to show off your 'relationship' with her.

She noticed this almost immediately, so when you were passing by her, in a swift movement, she wraps her arms around your waist and dragged you to her lap; you stumble a little, trying to balance yourself, placing your arm on her shoulder,

"Are you tired?" She whispers in your ear as if you were the only two people in the room.

"Yes, I am a little. How did you know?"

"I have already seen you tired many times, cariño. You are very touchy when you are tired." You subconsciously move away from her, but she keeps you in place firmly. "Don't move away; I love this side of you."

At first, your new teammates gave the both of you a surprised look, but nobody would dare to say anything besides Mapi, obviously, who sent you from across the room a knowing look, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

By the end of the night, you had played some more guitar as some of your teammates wanted to sing some more songs. But after a couple more hours, you were exhausted, and when Alexia noticed it, she decided to bring you home to sleep.

That morning, when you woke up, everything in your body ached somehow. You really had to get used to Barcelona's rhythms. The bed was empty, so you figured that Alexia was making breakfast, so you painfully make it to Alexia's kitchen wearing one of her big shirts and some shorts you found along the way to the kitchen, which were scattered the night before trying to get to the bedroom. She was making coffee the way you liked it, with the moka instead of using her Nespresso machine 'that she loves so much,' which made you smile at her attentiveness. As soon as you walk into her kitchen, she turns around and walks towards you, giving you a small kiss on the lips.

“Good morning, cariño. Did you sleep well?" She turns to her kitchen again, rummaging through the cabinet on top of her stove.

"I slept really well. What are you doing?" You ask her curiously, leaning on the kitchen countertop and peaking.

"So I found out that my mom had a moka in her kitchen all this time, and I didn't even notice it! So I asked her if I could borrow it since I know you prefer this coffee to the machine." She says while putting the coffee maker on the stove.

"Ale, you shouldn't have done that! I would've gladly drank whichever one you had; you didn't have to go through such trouble for me." You lightly slap her shoulder.

"I didn't go through any trouble. I just wanted to make you feel at home."

Before saying something that you most probably regret, aka replying with But you are my home. You dragged her to your height, kissed her to show all of your gratitude, and whispered a small thank you. When the coffee was ready, you both sat down on her small table and had breakfast.

You were talking about some media stuff you were going to do in the afternoon when you heard a knock on the door. Alexia looks at you confused, not expecting anybody, and she leaves with Nana in tow; as she opens the door, you hear Alexia talking to a woman who has a very similar voice to hers, and then you hear her scream, "No, Alba, no!"

You see the woman enter the kitchen with Alexia chasing after her as if she didn't want her to meet you.

"Hello, my name is Alba. I'm Alexia's sister." You suddenly widen your eyes, shocked. She offers you her hand to shake, and you stand up.

"Hi, I'm Y/N." You shake her hand and offer her a shy smile, subconsciously searching for Alexia to help you out with this unexpected visit.

"I know who you are; my sister nearly broke your nose. By the way, I want to apologize on her behalf; she never had proper manners."

"Alba!" Alexia screams, exasperated, while you release a light chuckle.

"Don't worry, she has already apologized. But yes, she has to work on her manners." You wink at Alexia, making her roll your eyes at you.

"Since when are you guys dating?" She asks curiously, earning another frustrated scream from Alexia.

"Oh no. We are not dating; she is just helping me out because a pipe exploded in my apartment." You reassure her while she stares at you confused, then lowers her gaze,

"So you give your clothes to all of your guests?" Alba asks her sister ironically, making you slightly blush.

"Well, I- I," The older sister stutters, making the other draw conclusions by herself.

"So you are dating."

"It's complicated." She says. "Is there any particular reason why you are here?"

"I forgot my sweater here last week, and I need it back. But I can come at another time."

"No, I'll get it for you." She disappears into the house, leaving you and Alba in an awkward silence.

Thankfully, Alexia comes back thirty seconds later,

"So you should come to dinner at mom's house sometime. She would love to meet your new 'roommate.'" She teases her older sister, clearly trying to irritate her.

"Well, then, you should invite Alexandre too since you live at his house more than you live at your own house." She replies sarcastically.

"I thought we reached an agreement to never talk about Alexandre ever again after the incident."

"By incident, she means when I caught them fucking in the bathroom during the semi-finals against Chelsea last year." She explains to you, clearly trying to irritate her sister, making you feel like you are getting way too much information on their dynamics in one sitting.

"Let me guess: when she saw you, she made some sarcastic remark, rolled her eyes, and left, right?" You joke, clearly imagining the scene.

"That's exactly it! Always rolling her eyes at people. So annoying! Finally, someone who gets it!"

"Uggghh." Alexia sighs and rolls her eyes at you both.

"See! She just did it again!"

"I don't like this coalition between the two of you." She lightly pouts.

"It's not a coalition when we are simply just stating the truth!" You lightly tease her, earning an approving nod from Alexia's sister.

"I hate you both!" She exclaims, fully knowing that she was just lying.

"No, you don't." Then you turn to Alba, "It was nice meeting you; I hope we'll see each other soon. I have to get changed for practice." You leave the two sisters while you get ready for training.

After a couple of minutes, Alexia entered your now shared room; you turned to her and placed your hands on her shoulders.

"So you met my sister…"

"She's very nice; I hope I made a good impression." You say insecurely.

"You made a great impression, cariño. I'm just really sorry that you had to meet her in these circumstances. Not to put pressure on you, but my sister can't keep a secret, and she'll definitely tell my mom about you."

"What a way to not put pressure on me." You chuckle nervously.

"Don't worry. I will handle everything, okay?" She gives you a small peck. "Now, are you ready?"

Training that day was even more intense than the day before, with the exception that you were finding so many link-ups with your new teammates. Sometimes, you would forget that you weren't training anymore with your old teammates, that if you passed the ball to the right, you would find Giugliano without looking, or that Linari was right behind you, ready for a pass if you needed it.

Now, you had different teammates, and your body had to get used to it.

Being back on the pitch with Mapi had been so exciting. Both of your styles of play evolved so much that how you played at Atletico didn't matter anymore. She loved playing with the ball, so you'd expect more passes from her than before.

What really changed everything for you were the players up front. Playing behind Alexia and Aitana was something that didn't happen every day. The best way for them to express themselves was if you were able to cover defensively for them, which you were doing gladly. Adapting to their style of play was not simple; they played on short and fast passes and opted less for long passes, which were your specialty.

You were practicing on free kicks, which you thought you were pretty good at. You didn't know why, but you were able to curve the ball perfectly, making the goalkeepers go crazy.

You were in a team with Mapi against Alexia and Graham Hansen, whom you were unceremoniously obsessed with her football skills.

It was your turn to shoot your first free-kick. Paños was on goal, and she was eying the ball. You go for the kick and curve the ball perfectly; the goalkeeper didn't even move because she thought it would be going out. It hit a top bin, and it was in. You throw your hand in the air competitively. "Dajeee!"

"That was a great curved ball! Where did you learn that?" Mapi asked, shocked, as she had never seen you take a free kick like that before.

You shake your shoulders nonchalantly while Caro asks you, "What are your free kick stats?"

"Like all time or just last season?" You ask shyly.

"All the time."

"Well, since I played for Roma, I was usually the one who took free kicks. I guess out of fifty-one direct free kicks, I scored forty-seven if I remember correctly."

"Wait, really?" Alexia asks you, shocked.

"Well, I love taking free kicks, and I practice a lot on them."

"That's not normal, Y/n; that's a really high conversion rate. I don't understand why I just heard about this!" Your friend tells you.

"I don't know, I just love taking them." You shrug your shoulders. "Plus, when I go for a curved ball, I don't know how, but I do it in a way that is almost impossible to predict."

"You can do a knuckleball too?"

"I'm not that good at that." They move the ball to the place and offer you to kick it. You hit the ball hard, and it goes for the post, then bounces off the other and goes in.

You scrunch your nose, dissatisfied, getting a new ball for another free kick, while your teammates look at you, shocked.

You turn to look at them, "What?

"Well, now we have to change teams, or it's going to get too easy for you guys!" Alexia says competitively.

"Oh, hell no! Now it's too late; we already decided on the teams!" Mapi says.

"Well, let Y/n decide." Ale crosses her arms, looking at you. "Do you want to swap teams and be with me, who is currently hosting you in my home, or that woman over there?" She points disgusted Mapi.

"Well, I-"You try to talk.

"Of course, she's going to choose me! I've known her for more than seven years!" They kept on bickering while you and Caro just stared at them, chuckling.

"You know? I think I'm actually switching teams." You raise an eyebrow, smirking.

"You made the right decision," Alexia says proudly. She walks to you to get on your side.

"That's arrogant to assume that I would switch teams with you, Alexia." You give her a smirk and walk to Caro's side, leaving Mapi and Alexia next to each other. "Caro and I are going to destroy you!"

And so you did. After another twenty minutes, you finally leave the pitch and get home with Alexia. Once again, you were exhausted, but you were very happy that you were able to get along with your new teammates.

As soon as you get home, you throw yourself to the couch while Nala jumps on top of you for cuddles, which you gladly give her.

Alexia was still pouting because she lost the free-kick competition. "Oh, come on, you can't be still mad!"

"I'm not mad."

"Well, it's not every day that you get to be on the same team as Caroline Graham Hansen. You know how much I am obsessed with her football skills."

"Well, then, why don't you go and ask her if you could crash at her place."

You sit right up and drag her by the shirt to you. "Are you jealous, piccola?"

"No, I am not! Why would I ever be! Caro is in a relationship with Marta. Plus, I am the one that has two Ballon d'Or." She says, trying to convince you.

"I know. You are the best of the best. I had to basically seduce you so that my team could have a chance against you. And you don't have to worry about anyone. There is no one else." The last words unconsciously slip out of your mouth, making you mentally curse at yourself.

"There is no one else for me either. Y/n, I have to tell you something." You nod at her while placing your arms on her shoulders.

"I'm in lo-"The phone rings again. This time, it is Alexia's phone. She goes to look at it. "It's my agent. I really need to take this."

After thirty minutes, she comes back looking stressed out.

"What was the call about, that made you go on the phone for thirty minutes?" You ask curiously.

"Oh no, I was also on the phone with my mom; that's why I was out for so long."

"Is everything okay at home?"

"Everything is great!" You could see that something was up. "But you know when I told you that my mom found out about you-us?"

"No? I thought that she still didn't know."

"Well, now she does. AndsheinvitedusfordinnerandIdidn'tknowwhethertotellyoubecauseIdon'tknowifyouwanttocome."

"What, sorry? I know you have this cute little habit of talking fast when you are nervous, but remember that I am not Spanish."

"Sorry." She takes a deep breath. "My mom invited us for dinner. You can totally say no, but-"

"I would love to come to dinner, Alexia. You didn't have to be that nervous." You give her a small peck on the lips. "Tell her I will bring the dessert."

"So, are you ready to finally meet your mother-in-law this afternoon?" Mapi asks you while you leave for morning training together. Finally, your home was fixed from the pipe, and you were able to finally live there. There was still a lot of work to do as you had to basically furnish the apartment, which had been really hard, especially when you were away for most of the day.

Thankfully, Mapi offered to help build a table that you had bought from Ikea in your living room, so with some help, your home was starting to take shape.

"She is not my mother-in-law. I am not currently in a relationship."

"I still don't understand why you can't tell her how you feel."

"Fear of rejection. Or fear that it's going to turn out like my previous relationship. Fear of being just delusional or fear of-"

"Okay, you have made your point! I just feel like you should; maybe you'll find out that she feels the same."

"Yeah, right. As if someone like her could fall for someone like me. She's way out of my league. But anyway, you have met Alexia's sister and mom, how are they? Do you have any tips?"

"They are going to love you. Just be yourself."

"That's not helping, Mapi." You chuckle.

"Ugh, just be polite and show that you genuinely care for Alexia. They are very protective of her. Don't show off, and don't be too shy. But I really don't think you are going to have a problem doing all that."

As soon as you went home, you quickly got ready in your desolate apartment; as soon as you were done, Alexia texted you.

Your Favorite Kickboxer ;)

I'll be here in 5 minutes.

The nerves were kinda getting to you, so you paced around your empty living room until Alexia came knocking at your door. As soon as she saw you, she quickly gave you a hug and pecked your lips.

"Hey, Cariño, are you ready?"

"So ready! You don't even know!" You fake out.

"Okay, yeah. You have to work on your lying skills. What's up? You don't have to come if you don't want to." She says calmly.

"It's not that Ale. I'm just nervous. I haven't met the mom and sister of a girl I am seeing since my ex. I'm just nervous, that's it."

"They'll love you, believe me. Now, take a deep breath; everything will be fine. We will go to my mom's for lunch, and she will show you some of my baby pictures, trying to embarrass me, and my sister will do the same. Then we'll get back home, cuddle up on the couch, and watch some of your sappy movies, okay?" You slowly nod, feeling a slight motivation through her words. "Now are you ready, cariño?"

You slightly nod, and she leads you to her car, but before that, you stop her and gently kiss her lips. "Thank you. You know I really, really like you?" You tell her.

"I really, really like you too."

You get to Alexia's mom's house, and the first thing she does is go up and hug you. You were taken by surprise, but after a second of shock, you quickly reciprocated.

"You must be Y/n, right?"

"Yes, it's me. You have a lovely house."

She takes you into the living room, and then she quickly disappears into the kitchen while Alba appears out of her room to see you.

You lightly chat with her until Alexia's mom screams for the two girls to come and help her; they quickly get into the small kitchen, clearly not knowing what to do.

"Do you need help, Eli?" You ask shyly.

"Oh no, you are the guest." She says, gently smacking your hands away from the pan you were stirring.

"Oh really, it's no biggie. I love cooking, plus I know how much Ale is a disaster in the kitchen. I can help if you like." You offer politely.

"For your information, I am a great cook," Alexia says, slightly offended. Neither her sister nor her own mother backed her up. All knowing how bad she was, making you chuckle.

"Don't worry, mija, you have some great qualities too." Her mom lightly teases Alexia, making her pout cutely.

As soon as lunch was ready, you helped set up the table, and you sat down.

"So, Y/n, how do you like Barcelona?"

"Oh, I love it here. I just had a minor slip-up with my apartment, but now everything is fixed."

"You are from Italy, right? Because I don't hear any accent." Her mom asks curiously.

"Well, I lived in Spain for a long time before moving clubs. I played for Atletico Madrid with Mapi."

"So you must be happy having her back as your teammate."

"I'm really glad. Plus, Barcelona has always been my dream club."

"Is it difficult being away from home?"

"Well, I left my home in Italy when I was really young; I left to study in the USA."

"Oh wow, what did you study there?" Alba asks you.

"I studied physiotherapy."

"So when you retire from football, you could become a therapist for Barcelona or some other football club," Alexia suggests.

"Well, I could, but I actually work with prosthesis. I studied to help people who have lost their limbs to build them prosthesis."

"I didn't know that!" Ale tells you, shocked but also proud.

Lunch proceeded great. Ale's mom and Alba were just like Mapi pictured them. Fiercely loyal and protective of one another. You really hoped that you made a good impression because even though you weren't in an actual relationship with Alexia, meeting her family felt like a huge step, and you'd hate for them to not feel like Ale made the right decision by seeing each other.

What you really liked, though, was the fact that you could see how much Alexia was being herself around her family. She didn't have her walls up, nor did she have to keep up with her duties as the captain. She was just herself, and you were lucky enough to be able to experience it and be part of her inner circle.

As soon as lunch was finished, you stood up to help Ale's mom clean up the table, and then you brought the dessert that you had made for the occasion.

"I didn't have much time to prepare something fancier; my kitchen is still a mess."

"You didn't have to prepare anything!" Ale's mom replies while she cuts open the cake you had stress baked for the occasion.

"My parents always taught me to never walk into a home as a guest empty-handed." You simply reply. "And really, it's nothing. I love baking, so actually, you gave me an excuse to make something."

"You know, Y/n, out of all of the girls that Alexia has brought home, you might be the nicest." You turn your head down, blushing, while Alexia, embarrassed, calls out her mother.

"Well, I think that just the fact that you are here means a lot. You know, Y/n, Alexia had a very bumpy love life." Alba calls her sister out, making Alexia send her a death glare.

You were too curious now, "I wanna hear all the details." You rub your hands, waiting for Alba to fill you in.

"Well, Alexia had many situationships that ended rather quickly."

"Alba!" Alexia warns her.

"One lasted two weeks I think, with this nice girl. For the record, she was really nice. The poor girl had the misfortune to be a cat person. Nana didn't like her, so she stopped seeing her."

"For the record, I don't regret it! My Nala is my best matchmaker, and I could never be in a relationship with someone who doesn't like my dog, who's currently living with me."

You chuckle lightly at her, "Thankfully, Nala likes me, or else, I wouldn't have lasted even a day." You tease Alexia, remembering how you met the small dog when you first hooked up with her, how Nala would try to get her owner's attention, but she was too busy on you to actually care.

"Well, thankfully, you are also a Barça fan because my sister left a fucking date because they were a Madrid fan."

"Okay, it did not go like that." Ale tries to explain herself, but she is soon cut off by her sister again.

"You told her that you played football, and she made a small comment about how she slightly preferred Madrid to Barcelona."

"She wanted me to go to the Bernabeu with her." She pauses. "On the Madrid section!"

"Poor girl, you turned down a girl just because of her club preference?" You chuckled at her stubbornness.

"She was also very annoying."

"How many dates did you go with the Madritista?" You ask her.

"One." You all burst out laughing.

"The next girl instead, more than a situationship, was a failed date. She was a friend of a friend of mine, and after the date, Ale called me and I asked how the date went, and she replied that she thought that the girl was amazing, but she didn't like the outfit, so it wouldn't work." Alba chuckles hard, making you shake your head teasingly at Alexia.

"In my defense, she was amazing, but the outfit was too distracting, so much so that it felt like our personalities wouldn't go together."

"You got all that by an outfit?" You ask her incredulously.

"Yes." She states bluntly making you playfully shake your head at her.

By the time lunch was finished, you were about to leave.

"It was lovely meeting the both of you. I really hope I'll see you soon." You go to hug the two women and then leave to go to the car, waiting for Alexia to say the final goodbye.

When Ale gets into the car, she sits in the driver's seat, takes your hand, and kisses it.

"Thank you for coming."

"Thank you, for inviting me. Now let's go home; we have a couch to build."

As you get home, Ale quickly gets ready to build your Ikea couch while you take some of your most valuable stuff, like family pictures or small trinkets that hide memories that you will forever treasure.

You were unpacking the first ball they gave you when you scored your first hat trick, then you moved to a larger box, and you soon felt overwhelmed by how much stuff you had to unpack, making you slightly regret your life choices.

Alexia was still on the floor trying to build up your couch when she suddenly resurfaced clumsily.

"Why are those instructions so difficult? I just feel like Ikea should be better at making them. I should ask Frido." She complains to herself, making you chuckle from across the room.

As you looked at her while she was building your couch, without anything in return, just simply to make you feel more at home, a warm feeling spread through your chest.

You just smiled. Smiled at the woman who came out of nowhere and turned your life around. Smiled at the woman who had taken your heart without you noticing it. And then you realize that maybe what you had with Alexia right now wasn't enough for you. You wanted more. Because those feelings that you had slowly built over time weren't avoidable anymore. What you had with her wasn't enough, and you realized that you couldn't pretend anymore that you were okay with it.

You needed to be alone, to think, to prepare yourself. Just her being in the same house as you was just too much. You were feeling too much. Feeling too much for her.

So you quickly stood up, crossing your arms, unconsciously wanting to close yourself off as much as possible.

"Ale, I need you to get out."

She turns towards you and sees how much you were shaken. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything is good. I just need you to leave, please." You try to be as convincing as possible.

"Everything is not good. You are not good. Tell me what's wrong." She rubs your shoulders soothingly in worry.

You don't know why, but your mind figured that it would be best if you'd just rip the bandaid off.

"Ale, I think we have a problem." You take a deep breath. "I think I'm in love with you."

There was no turning back now. You could take your words back, so you waited patiently as her brows furrowed and then quickly fixed in a soft expression.

"I think we have two problems then. Because I think I am in love with you too."

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso imagine #woso #woso fanfics

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