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adrinktostopyourthirst · 7 months

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Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Rebound

Part two to Underground

Pairing: Fighter!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: You lose your last tether to the normal world and Bucky has to make a decision. You’re officially part of the Underground. Does he help you, or not?

Warnings: 18+. Angst, violence, fluff and smut.

Words: 5OOO

The demanding throbbing in your feet nearly feels delightful as you drag yourself home to your cramped apartment. As the sun rises and the city turns pink and orange, your building starts to come alive. Though you can barely manage to keep your eyes open.

You can tell the Underground is starting to toughen you up. You make longer days, are a bit paler in your face, making your features sharper, and the bravado you muster as you survive every night is surely something that has started to cling to your face and posture permanently. The people that start their days at sunrise, the ones that weren’t blipped from society and still have a life to return to, they walk around you in a big circle now.

It only makes you feel smug. The society slowly casting you out – starting to fear you.

However, your confidence has a short lifespan when you walk up to the front door of your apartment. The fresh paper with red capital letters stamped on it shouldn’t come as a surprise. You have tried to hold this moment off for as long as possible, going even as far as to take small side jobs in the fighting dome to make some extra money.

You suppose it was only a matter of time before you’d have the words ‘EVICTION NOTICE’ stamped across your door.

And your adrenaline spikes again, realising the time has come that you are officially homeless. You have been well and truly cast out by society, something both you and Natasha had been trying to fight and hold off for as long as possible. This is why the spy had introduced you to the Underground, to make some sort of living. And Nat had never judged you for staying in denial a little longer, even though you knew you would have to get used to the Underground fast, because it was only a matter of time before it would be your new home.

So no sleep for now.

You rip open the door and start packing, leaving all the old furniture that was already there and ending up with one big, stuffed duffel bag and a smaller bag. And then you stand in your place that is no longer your place and truly has never really felt like your place. You look around and feel angry …and hurt. After all, you have been chewed up and spit out, like so many before you.

You stuff that feeling far, far away and vacate the building right as de evening rolls back in. Evening already – since you have tried to put off this moment for as long as possible, have extended packing for hours. Since you don’t have a clue where Natasha lives, if she even resides in the country right now, you are forced to step to the one person you do not want to go to…

As you enter the dome, the place eerily quiet since the nightlife is a long way from commencing, you mildly greet the bartenders and crewmembers readying for the night. You scrunch your face at the stench, wondering if the place ever really gets cleaned. In the darker corners you see things that you decide are none of your business and you drag yourself through centre of the Underground, the capitol of dodgy business.

Making your way to the locker room, you breathe a sigh of relief when you find it empty. Finding a locker in the far back, you stuff it full with your last belongings and pray that none of it gets stolen. Maybe you can find a place in this building to sleep in. You have definitely seen other people crash here for the night, though you debate how safe you’d be. You hardly think you’d close an eye in a place like this.

Then, all the hairs on your body stand up straight.

You slowly turn to find Bucky staring at you, one brow quirked and that being the only sign of his curiosity. “Why are you already here?”

You swallow, “Just trying to get some extra work in.”

Neither of you have talked about what happened nearly a month ago. How you rode his leg with his fingers inside of you until you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. And how that had been enough for him to come nearly untouched. Well, you say untouched, but you had felt just how heavy he was on your tongue and that’s where you wanted him coming next. Badly.

And you can’t exactly say the tension between you has shifted much. Something that made you realise just how high tensions between you already were. But you dropped it, so had he.

“You have to be careful with those side businesses,” he tells you as he turns to his own locker, one that does have a lock. “People will take advantage of a woman like you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you,” you snap at him and move to find your bag of supplies for the fight. You try to calm your breathing as you find the bag, kneel down and rummage through it, checking if you need to restock any of your supplies, if only to give yourself something to do for the upcoming hours.

But your spine stiffens again and it’s a little darker around you. So you turn and immediately stand up with you see Bucky looming over you. His eyes rove over your face, peering straight through to your soul, where it quivers before him.

“If you could take care of yourself,” he drawls, “you wouldn’t be homeless right now.”

You startle, “What? How do you know?”

He smiles, but it feels more vindictive than smug. “Because word travels fast, sweetheart, and a pretty girl like you on the loose is gold in the Underground.” He pauses and then his smirk turns smug, “Especially when she’s desperate.”

“I’m not desperate!” you squawk in outrage and he takes a step closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face.

He clenches his jaw, eyes hardening. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

“That is none of your concern.”

Bucky lets out a humourless laugh, tilting his head up and running his tongue over his teeth in annoyance before he lowers his gaze back to yours. “You see, it seems like I’ve signed a stupid fuckin’ contract where that is my concern. So please tell me you have a plan and I don’t have to intervene.”

“Intervene?” you sneer and roll your eyes. “Please, it’s not like you can offer me anything out of this place. You’re not here by choice.”

He quirks his brow, seemingly intrigued by that assumption. “Is that what you think? What if I was here by choice, huh? What if I chose this life?”

You fall silent at that, and decide to keep it like that. An argument with him won’t be worth it. Besides, what are you going to tell him? You have nothing and no one. You are officially at your wit’s end and for you, that is saying a lot. The silence stretches… and stretches…

“Give me something to do,” you tell him quietly –deflated– when he doesn’t break the silence either. You don’t see Bucky’s face soften when he watches the defeat in your face before you stare down at the ground.

Bucky’s skin prickles like there is electricity in the air. Because he’s angry. He’s pissed and furious and so fucking angry. That the world can spit out a woman like you, like it has let down so many good people after the Blip.

And the anger doesn’t cease. It only gets worse, like magma bubbling under his skin and boiling his bones. That night, he beats up opponent after opponent in what seems like a record time. People get killed in these fights all the time, they fight to the death all the time. After all, there are too many people and they know what they signed up for when they enter this place. Yet, it’s a line Bucky has never crossed, never will cross. Not anymore.

It’s difficult, to stay of this side of that line tonight. He wants to kill. He feels the soldier crawling under his skin, flipping knives in anticipation, begging Bucky to unleash him. And he thinks he has hardly been this angry before. Bucky yanks on that leash and fights, each punch and kick doing nothing to quench his thirst for justice.

Win after win, Bucky ruins everyone who dares to take it up against him. But he doesn’t hear the crowd – the screams for more blood and sensation, the cheers that he is the most dangerous man in the Underground. He only hears the rushing of his blood in his ears as he thinks about the woman the world has abandoned – as he thinks about you.

…

“Grab your bags. You’re coming with me.”

You gape at your two bags sitting on the leather bench and peer back at all of the lockers, each of them seeming like they have been ripped open with brute force, some of them dented in a manner that looks like a metal hand gripped its edges. You briefly glance at his metal hand and then up to his face.

Unflinching. His command and his face.

So you grab your bags and follow after him silently. Through countless of alleys and wild crowds that seem to think the night of violence has only just begun, even though the sky is turning lilac with dawn. You sometimes hobble to catch up with the soldier, your arms quaking under the weight of your duffel bag. But you keep marching onward, the last dregs of your energy fuelled by what is to come.

The stairs of the industrial building are almost too much, but you try not to stumble since Bucky is walking behind you and that would severely hurt your pride. The fatigue is making every step feel like torture, like you’re climbing a sandy hill and you have to move carefully to keep from slipping into the dark depths. When you do stumble slightly, the weight of your duffel tipping you backwards, you feel the faintest nudge of a warm hand at your lower back, just enough to tip you back and let you continue your trek up the stairs.

Bucky overtakes you at last and opens a door with around twenty locks attached to it, all of them unlocked. He walks in like it’s habitual and you trudge after him, your energy spiking enough to take in the sight. Bucky walks over to the floor to ceiling windows and rolls down the beige canvas curtains. Just as the sun peaks over the horizon of the city and orange light pours into what you can only assume is Bucky’s home.

It's big. Simple and imposing, but cosy nonetheless. There are plants, a fact that has you fighting to keep from smiling. And brown leather furniture, a beautiful and clean kitchen… You turn your gaze back to the man of the house, who is now standing beside a massive bed with cream sheets and fluffy pillows. Your eyes become bleary at the sight, sleep fighting its way to the surface and threatening to drag you to the floor.

Bucky panics slightly at the look on your face and strides over, grasping your bag from your trembling arms. He has to hold back from cursing at the thought that you must not have slept for over forty-eight hours and how dreadful the past day must have been for you.

He guides you to his bed and lets you collapse into the sheets as he pulls off your boots. Bucky knows you would have put up more of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted, but he won’t use it against you. Just like you didn’t use his weakness against him when you were massaging him.

That massage.

He cannot cast the thought from his brain. Never mind what followed the massage. The woman that was on his knees for him, that came around his fingers and was moaning for him so beautifully – she seems like such a far cry from the woman before him. How you can be so careful and feisty, yet such a dream when it comes to his most sinful fantasies. What you did to him in that locker room that day has been playing in his head on repeat. And he wants to slap himself for wanting to crawl beneath the sheets now, drag those clothes off your body, spread your thighs and bury his face between them–

He quickly stands from the bed and clears his throat, casting you one more look before he’s off to the kitchen area and refill his energy in other ways.

…

When you wake up, it’s dark again. It takes you a while to orient yourself, your body fighting off the heavy blanket of sleep you have been swaddled in. The bed below you is more comfortable than anything you have ever felt and the smell–

Pushing up to a seat, your body becomes alert of your surroundings just in time to hear the rattle of about twenty locks opening. In walks Bucky, slumping as he moves his bruised body across his own floors. He notices you, doesn’t pay you any mind, and then plants himself to sit at the edge of the bed you are laying in. He bends down with a quiet grunt, unlacing his boots and peeling them from his feet.

He seems exhausted. And judging by the darkness, he has called in an early night. You push off the sheets and crawl towards him. Bucky tenses almost imperceptibly, but you gently put your palms on his wide shoulders. You swear you see him shudder, before his back bends over more in relaxation.

“I lost tonight,” he tells you as you slowly circle your warm palms over his back.

He lost. That’s unlikely. Something must have happened for him to lose. He must have been distracted. Or someone new has joined the Underground. Something’s maybe different. Shit, you were supposed to take care of him yesterday. He’d fought harder than you’d ever seen him fight. He must have been broken this morning– But, no. He has fought fights without your care for God knows how long. It couldn’t have made a difference now.

“What happened?” you ask, doubtful he’ll open up to you.

His head snaps backwards and you flinch at the look in his eyes. “What do you mean ‘what happened’? You happened. Can’t fucking focus with you being all dramatic with your personal bullshit.”

You draw back. “Excuse me?! I don’t recall making my problems yours!”

“Well, they are now, aren’t they?” he snipes back and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

And you think maybe it’s not you he’s frustrated with.

“What do you want from me?” you ask quietly. Timidly.

You barely hear him, his voice muffled by his hands as he speaks, “I want you on all fours.”

But you did hear him. Some part of you heard him, that’s for sure. The heat that left your body after your endless sleep is returning to you in a different form, pebbling your skin with anticipation. You swallow hard and barely manage to get out, “What?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and slowly turns to you.

“Lie on your stomach.” The order is soft, but so, so clear and not gentle by any means. You search his eyes frantically, but only find his immovable self. Your traitorous body lights on fire at what she finds. So you do as you’re told.

And you wait.

Two large, warm hands travel up your clothed legs. Kneading your calves, your thighs, until they knead your ass. You cannot help but push your hips back to seek the pressure. You feel his looming presence crawl over you and you hold your breath. Soft lips press to your shoulder that got exposed after your shirt slipped slightly.

His hands slip around your hips and under them. The feeling of your jeans popping open, makes your core throb with need. He pulls your jeans down, but not off. No, just far enough down for access and to keep you in place, barely enough give even allow you to squirm.

Then, you feel his weight press into your body and you could have never imagined feeling his weight would be enough to make you want to moan. That’s when you register the feeling of his hard bulge against your ass and you push up against him again. Bucky answers with a muffled growl against your shoulder, followed by a gentle bite as a warning.

“Careful,” he drawls, one hand holding him up slightly as his other spreads over your side and slips under your shirt to feel your bare skin. You shudder at the feeling and bite your lip, your fingers curling into the pillow below your head.

How is this even possible? How can you deteriorate so quickly when he has barely touched you? His breaths turn heavy against your neck and you twist your head to hear him better, your mouth so close to his now. You wonder why it is that his breathing is coming out more laboured, but the only thing you can come up with is that it’s plain old restraint that is stiffening his body, his lungs.

One of your hands reaches back and up, and you scrape the pads of your fingers over his stubble. Bucky’s grip on the sheets tightens and his hips roll down into you in response. His mouth attaches itself to your neck and he hums as he grazes his teeth over your skin, his tongue soothing the pain instantly.

“Bucky,” you whisper and he rolls his hips again. The hand under your shirt slides to your front and grabs your breast, kneading the flesh in his hand. Desperate, clingy. He groans.

Something is shifting between the two of you and you feel a rawness coming to the surface. You remind yourself Bucky is requesting this for a reason, but he might be lost in it. In you. Then, you hear him mumble against your skin. Something you’re not sure he wants you to hear, but you give a soft coo to urge him to repeat himself.

“Please,” he moans softly. “Please.”

His hand slides down and wastes no time before slipping into your underwear, his entire hand cupping your cunt as he rolls his fingers through your folds. You gasp and let out a moan, writhing your hips when you cannot choose between moving up or down.

He’s rutting into you like a starved man, his fingers indulging in their exploration like he’ll find salvation between your legs. You open your mouth to ask him what he wants, but he rolls his fingers over your clit and you let out a whimper instead, making Bucky nuzzle his nose right below your ear.

“You’re all warm,” he mumbles and kisses your neck, your jaw – so close to your lips. His fingers are torture, so devious yet so innocent. As if he’s completely content playing with you like this for hours. Your belly flutters and tightens and warms at the sensations he coaxes to the surface.

It’s selfish, what he’s doing. This is all him, trying to console himself.

“Don’t,” you breathe desperately and roll your hips into his hand. “Don’t tease, Bucky.”

“ ‘M not. Just feeling you,” he whispers and you open your mouth to fight him on it, but then his warm mouth covers yours and the moan that spills from your throat is sinful. His tongue immediately invades you and you melt as he consumes you everywhere that he can. One finger slips through your wetness and into you and Bucky inhales the response you give him, groaning in response.

He grinds down, so do you, completely out of sync and with mouths moving desperately over each other. You cling to your pillow with one hand and bury your other in Bucky’s hair, pulling when he adds another finger and his weight keeps you from moving into him more. You whine against him, sensations at war within you when he keeps playing with you like a selfish cat.

“I’m so fucking wet,” you whimper and Bucky grunts in agreement, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Just stop playing–”

Bucky laughs then – laughs – a manly chuckle as he nudges his nose against yours. You want to cry for mercy and your toes curl when his fingers do, making you clench around him tightly. Your orgasm is being dangled in front of you like a carrot and you wonder if he just wants you to feel the way he feels. Frustrated, angry. Like he has no control whatsoever.

But what he does next goes so fast, it makes your head spin. Your body goes cold when his fingers leave you and when his body rises from yours, leaving you behind. But your hips get lifted and the pillow below your head gets snatched and shoved beneath your hips. You try to move, if only to accommodate his inexplicable actions, but your jeans are keeping you from moving.

You feel him crawl over you again and this time, you do moan at the pressure, bending your back to press up against him. He grinds down in response and you feel the pressure of the pillow against your womb, shooting tingles through your limbs when you realise what he’s done.

One of Bucky’s hands slides over yours and pins it to the mattress, your fingers automatically curling around the security of his. And it’s nice, the feeling of him engulfing you. It feels safe and warm and insanely intense. You turn your head, hoping to find him near. Your heart swells when he presses a kiss to your cheekbone.

“I want to fuck you,” he murmurs against you skin and you nod frantically, making him chuckle again. “I’m not against begging for it at this point.”

And apparently, you’re not entirely gone, since your lips curl into a smirk and your voice drops to a low purr when you tell him, “Please beg for me.”

How ironic, to beg someone to beg for you. Though, your brief confidence doesn’t falter. If anything, it is about to skyrocket.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, his soft lips moving against the sensitive skin. “Let me inside you. Let me make you feel good.” He sounds so genuine, so depraved and full of longing. You have to swallow down the carnal desire that crawls up your throat. You nearly choke when you feel the tip of his bare cock nudge against your folds. “Open up for me. Let me slip right in and I’ll fuck you into the mattress, okay? My mattress.”

You nearly whine, all ready to completely cave for him. And then he finishes it with a whisper in your ear, “Please, sweetheart. Let me have you.”

Yeah. Yes. Oh, yes. You mouth the words, but no sound comes out. You might be slipping outside of your body. The way Bucky sounds – his voice so deep, yet needy. You can only nod your head and squeeze his hand, rubbing yourself up against the tip of him.

“Hm, good girl.”

He slides home with one easy thrust, pressing you down into the mattress and skating his cock over each of your swollen walls. You cannot form a sound, or a thought, or catch a fucking breath. Especially not when he rotates his hips slightly and presses down even further.

You nearly choke, quiet for a long second, before you heave in all the oxygen that you can manage, “Oh my god!”

He pulls out slightly and rolls back in, keeping you full and stuffed and only nudging your spot with the tip of him. Over, and over, and over–

“That’s the spot, huh?” he pants against your ear and ruts into you further. “Right… there.” You gasp on a whine and he presses a kiss to your temple. The pillow adds a delicious pressure and you wish to put your hand there, just to feel him move in and out of you.

It’s so perfect, so sating, so much and deep and– You didn’t know it could be like this. Didn’t know it was possible to suddenly realise how screwed you are for the future. How nothing and no one will ever be able to compare to this. To him.

Your orgasm crawls closer and it feels like nothing you have felt before. Your clit is throbbing and aching and your walls are hugging Bucky like he’s never allowed to leave. Your hips tighten and your shoulders scrunch as your orgasm clamps down on you like a snake ready to strike.

“Bucky, I’m–”

He tightens his grip on your hand and latches onto your hip. “Yeah, I know. Me, too.”

You hear the strain in his voice, the hint of disappointment and you scramble to get your brain back in order. “Come in me, Bucky. Come inside me,” you rush out through quick breaths. You can’t elaborate. You just need him to fill you.

He leans back over and slows his thrusts, his breath fanning over your flushed skin. “Yeah? You want me to make a mess of you? You want proof that I fucked you deep enough?”

You let out a grumpy whine and he laughs beautifully as he drops his forehead to the back of your head. He picks up his thrusts, slow and deep and steady. His swollen cock slides over every cushion inside of you and you shudder at how sensitive your are so close to your orgasm. But it comes quicker than you anticipated. You wanted him to go faster, but with this tempo, you feel the orgasm that is coming closer might drown you.

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him to speed up, but the wave has already reached the shore and your ears hollow out.

The tremors seem to start from within as you swell with pleasure, seizing around Bucky and threatening to curl up. You think you might be grasping for something to hold onto as Bucky remains consistent through your orgasm, fucking into you with a steady rhythm and meeting you with every contraction of your high.

It is so completely overwhelming that you barely feel it when he comes, if it isn’t for the litany of beautiful moans and whimpers from him against your neck. He bites your skin to ground himself through his own orgasm and then melts over your body, pulling your hand to his lips.

Bucky quiets his own breaths to make sure he hears yours and is happy to learn how sated and satisfied you sound with your soft pants. He crawls off of you and gently tugs you over on your back, smiling as he watches you bend to his will.

Peeling off your jeans, he keeps his eyes on you, mesmerised with the sight and the feeling of having you in his bed. A feeling he had yesterday, too. Not just lust…

Your eyes peel open and you peer down at him while he strokes his sweaty palms up and down your calves and thighs. “Is this part of my ruse as a physical therapist and personal nurse now?”

Bucky quirks a brow at your wit and you feel something unfamiliar at the relaxation on him. How he seems more expressive and gentle and less guarded.

“No, this is private.”

Bucky’s eyes rove over your body and you flush with warmth, both from his words and from his assessing stare. You feel him drip from between your legs and swallow, fighting the urge to close your thighs. But Bucky, ever the trained assassin, immediately notices and lets a smirk crawl over his face.

He leans down and presses his lips to your left knee, eyes narrowing in on your cunt. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack when you told me to come inside of you.” You freeze at his words and keep a close eye on him. “I fucking knew the sight would be good, but–”

He lets out a starved groan.

You sound wary, “Bucky.”

He spreads your knees and crawls down to kneel at the foot of the bed, tugging you towards the edge. Surely, he wouldn’t–

You throw your head back when Bucky dives head first between your legs, running a flat tongue through your folds. You’re not sure if it’s the taste or simply the idea of him licking you clean of himself, but Bucky growls and hauls you closer, nudging his nose against your clit like he’ll never find anything better than what’s between your thighs.

You cannot help but bury your fingers in his hair, the wild throbbing between your legs pushing your mixed essences out and onto his tongue where Bucky drinks it up appreciatively. His fingers dig into your flesh and it takes a while for Bucky’s ministrations to have any other purpose than to taste you. But when he sucks your clit into his mouth, you tug on his hair with warning, making him chuckle.

“You don’t fight fair,” you choke out and he grins up at you.

“Oh, sweetheart, if you knew what the prize was, you wouldn’t fight fair either,” he murmurs and moans in delight as he continues his feasting. “Now how about you give me that prize and come on my tongue, huh?”

No, Bucky didn’t lose tonight.

#I did it #and under 6k words like HOW?!#who knew i was still even capable of that?#ok not a lot of people liked underground but the ones that did liked it A LOT #this is for you guys #and oops - i made him needy #i hope you enjoy it and as always please let me know what you think???#I need the validation THANKS #writing #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #e to l

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gamergirl929 · 4 months

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No Matter How Far You Run (I'll Always Be Right Behind You) (Alex Morgan x Reader)

You were always told that your wedding day was supposed to be a momentous, and joyful occassion, if that were true, why were you feeling the way you were feeling? Why did you feel like you would never be good enough for Alex Morgan?

You’d gotten into the room over an hour ago, and for nearly the entirety of that hour, you’d been pacing, your palms sweaty and your heart racing, the bow tie around your neck growing tighter and tighter.

“What about the flowers Em, did we get the right flowers???” You ask, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

“We got the right flowers Y/N, I promise.”

“And the cake?” You ask, screeching to a halt, your hands running down your face. “What about the cake Em?”

“We got the right cake, Y/N, you gotta calm down, okay?” Emily says, her own hands beginning to shake, your anxiety transferring to her in some form of mass hysteria.

“What if I screw up my vows?” You ask, giving Emily no time to answer before you’re asking another question.

“What if Alex decides I’m not worth it?” You gulp, your pacing increasing in speed.

You continue to mutter unintelligibly under your breath words that Emily can’t quite make out, your anxiety only increasing her own.

The door slowly creaks open, Kelley O’Hara poking her head through the crack.

“Has she calmed down yet?” She asks, her brown orbs widening when she realizes Emily is nearly shaking just as much as you are.

“I’ll take that as a no.” She says, slipping through the crack, the door clicking shut behind her.

“Y/N, tell me what you’re thinking...” Kelley whispers gently, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

You sigh deeply, running your fingers through your hair, your mouth opening and closing as you search for words to describe the emotions you’re feeling.

“She’s too good for me Kel.” You whisper, the shorter woman shaking her head as you turn to her, tears in your eyes.

“You’re perfect for one another.” She whispers, tucking a loose strand of hair dangling in your face behind your ear.

You shake your head, sniffling.

“What if she regrets marrying me?” You mumble, your words so soft Kelley has to lean in to hear them.

“She would never regret marrying you.” She smiles softly, her hands settling on your shoulders before she gives them a squeeze.

You swallow hard, your Y/E/C orbs darting around Kelley’s face considering you’re unable to look her in the eye.

You shake your head, your mouth opening and closing as you try to find your words the sound of Emily’s chair scooting across the floor making you stiffen.

“She loves you Y/N.” Emily whispers as she places a comforting hand on your tuxedo covered back.

“It’ll all be okay, alright?” Kelley whispers, cupping your cheek with one hand, running her thumb along your cheek in comfort.

You nod, taking a deep breath as you try to calm yourself down, but it’s to no avail your inner turmoil again rearing its ugly head.

Kelley and Emily’s shoulders sag, the pair feeling ease, despite the fact that you were beginning to tremble again.

The room, though large enough to comfortably house a group of people feels claustrophobic, the room closing in on you as your heart again begins to race.

“I can’t do this.” You mutter, causing both Emily and Kelley to jump as you turn on your heels and sprint out of the room, dashing in a random direction, putting as much distance between the pair as you possibly can.

************************************************************************

You weren’t at all sure where you ended up in the venue, your sense of location completely off as you sprinted in random directions until you found a random room to camp out in.

You cover your face with your trembling hands; your entire body beginning to shake.

You knew you shouldn’t feel this way, you knew that this was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but still, you couldn’t escape your own head, one thought followed by another, then another, each thought worse than the last.

A part of you wanted to remain hidden, to curl up on the other side of the door until the wedding was over, but you knew you couldn’t do that, not to her.

No matter how much you thought she deserved better, you couldn't break her heart like that. Despite that thought, you remain still, unable to force yourself to your feet.

You go ridged at the sound of approaching heels, your chest tightening as you hold your breath, hoping that whoever it was would pass by, unaware of your presence.

Unfortunately for you, the clicking heels stop just behind the door you’re currently leaning against.

“Y/N?” You hear Alex’s soft whisper, and your eyes widen, the door slowly creaking open.

“W-Wait, we’re not supposed to see each other.” You stammer, the woman on the other side of the door chuckling.

“You’re more important than a silly tradition right now.”

You shake your head, grabbing the edge of the door, holding it closed.

“I know how important it is to you Alex.” You mutter, your throat bobbing.

Alex falls silent before the door creaks open a bit wider, her hand slipping between the crack, her palm facing upwards, her fingers wiggling in a silent invitation.

You take her hand with no sense of hesitation, the tightness in your chest ebbing away slightly.

The two of you sit in silence, Alex’ fingers delicately playing with your own, the rapid racing of your heart decreasing with each passing second.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong? Emily and Kelley said you might be having second thoughts...?” She asks and you take a breath, your throat bobbing as your hands grow clammy.

You remain silent for a beat, the woman on the opposite side of the door squeezing your hand.

“Do you...” You stiffen at the sound of the crack in Alex’s voice as she speaks words you know she wished she never would have to speak.

“Do you not want to get married?” She asks, her voice quivering, your heart sinking in your chest at the soft utterance.

You remain silent, your mouth opening and closing as you try to put your feelings into words.

“Alex, there’s nothing I want more than to marry you, but...” You close your eyes, your breath catching in your throat.

“What if you regret it?” You whisper, the woman on the other side of the door remaining silent as you put your thoughts into words.

“I’m just going to screw it up, I’ve already screwed it up by running away and hiding like a coward.” You say, knocking your head against the wooden door behind you.

“I’m not good enough for you, you deserve so much better, you deserve someone who isn’t going to run and hide on what’s supposed to be the best day of your life, and that’s not me.”

Your heart clenches in your chest when Alex’s hand leaves your own, a lump forming in your throat.

“Close your eyes.” She whispers, your brows furrowing as your eyes flutter shut.

The door creaks open softly, your breath hitching as Alex’s hands settle on your chest before finding your shoulders, leading you to believe that she too has her eyes shut, following the tradition she holds dear.

“You’re more than good enough for me.” She whispers, her fingers tangling in the fine hairs at the base of your neck.

Her forehead rests gently against yours, her lips ghosting your own as she whispers.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I couldn’t and never would regret marrying you.” She says, bumping the tip of her nose against yours.

“You didn’t screw anything up, and no matter how many times you run away, I’ll always be right behind you, because I love you, Y/N, and you’re worth chasing after.” She whispers, a tear streaming down your cheek, one that Alex quickly swipes away with the tip of her thumb.

You sniffle, covering her hands with your own as you kiss her lips softly, her manicured nails scrapping the nape of your neck gently.

Reluctantly you part, neither going far as your noses brush, a small smile stretching across your face.

“So, should we go get married now?” You whisper a grin stretching across your face as the woman giggles, pecking your lips.

“I think we should... As long as you still want to...?” She whispers and you smile, leaning your head back to kiss the tip of her nose.

“There’s nothing I’d want more.”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine #please let me know what you think

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onsomenewsht · 3 months

Text

now playing: Too Well

< track 5 || track 7 >

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader, Barcelona Femeni x Reader, Arsenal Women x Reader

》 words count: ~5k

》 you weren't there in my dreams, I could finally sleep / I felt good, but it sucks, I don't hate you as much

You hear the whistle before you feel the pain in your lower back.

It’s been going on like this since the very start of the game, your former teammates are on you like it’s personal, not giving you space to move or time to play.

But you know them, you played with them. It’s not personal.

At least you hope so.

You’re pretty sure they’re playing this rough because they’re scared of you. Of the way you’re keeping up with them, of the way you’re not going down easily.

It’s exciting, it’s exactly what you wanted.

This one foul feels a little bit unnecessary though.

It’s a tactical foul, you manage to find a weak spot on the side of Barcelona’s midfield and you go for it even if the ball sent to you is a bit too fast. Mapi’s body crushes into yours firmly, not enough to cause any real harm but definitely strong enough to hint you to take a breath on the ground.

“Perdón, tenía que hacerlo” (Sorry, I had to), a tattooed hand comes into your vision and the second thing you spot is the smirk on the defender’s face.

You accept her help, smirking too.

“You didn’t have to, that ball was way too long”

“Oye, sabes que no es por eso” (Yeah, you know it wasn’t about the game), María’s grin turns into a sincere smile as she moves back into her position, adding “Estamos a mano ahora” (We can call it even now).

The referee is making sure everything is settled, trying to keep control of the players, but you dismiss her and let Katie take the ball for a kick into the Barça’s box.

It’s an exciting game, it’s good football. That’s what you wanted for your first game back in Barcelona, your first game at Camp Nou as a rival. The crowd is wild and the atmosphere is all you could wish for from a Champions League match as important as the first leg of a quarter-final.

“You good?”, Leah asks while joining the fun into the box.

You are all waiting for Katie to stop discussing whatever she’s discussing with the referee just to give your teammates time to find their positions.

“Get that ball in and I’ll be amazing”

Arsenal does not manage to get the ball into the back of the net and you still have ten minutes before halftime to level the score.

It’s not fair game on paper, the odds are against you and some headlines must already be written. Barcelona’s movements on the pitch are faster and cleaner, sometimes the crowd is so loud you can’t even hear your own thoughts. They scored five minutes into and they’ve been setting the pace since.

But you’re standing up to the current Champions League’s winner.

Arsenal’s defence line is keeping up, the ball is rolling and you’re finding your forwards. You can score, you just have to play the right pass for your teammates.

On the other hand, Keira is personally marking you and another Barca’s player is always around to intercept your pass and prevent your movement. It’s frustrating, they know how you like to play, but it’s also flattering.

They have a mark on you, you just need to remember it’s acknowledgement you can cause trouble and not spite.

A couple of players booked for both sides is how the game gets into halftime.

You take your time to reach the tunnel, speaking animatedly with Victoria and Lia, gesturing around with your hands to explain some other tactics you can try. The atmosphere is unreal, you can’t deny all the overwhelming emotions of being back.

The fact you don’t want to risk ending up in Alexia’s line of sight has nothing to do with it.

Leah really jinxed it back then, the Champions League’s draw put your new club against your former one sooner than what you hoped for. However, you got here, you’re once again among the best in the game and it’s all you wanted.

Having to play against your ex girlfriend is just a small detail.

You’re still following her, you’re still updated about her life – her professional one, obviously. If you find yourself watching her game’s highlights or listening to her interviews, you tell yourself it’s just what you do to study your competition.

The truth is you want to make sure she’s doing good. On the pitch at least.

Alexia’s knee is bothering her again and you were so close to calling her when you read about her having to do checkups and potentially miss some important games. Like this one. No one has to know you texted Ingrid instead, just to make sure it’s not actually worse than the media is making it to be.

“Head in the game, trotter”

The Gunners have gathered around in the locker room, waiting for your captains to deliver some motivational speech to get back out there with a renewed spirit.

“Why are you all looking at me?”

“Give some shit, you idiot!”, Katie is upset and already carded, she better finds some inner peace before the second half.

“Kim, you amazing captain, say something”

“She’s right, you have the insight”

The Scottish skipper is looking at you with a calm smile and your manager is trusting her captains enough to let them deal with this by themself. The entire staff is looking at you like you have the answers to all the universe’s most important questions.

“I already spilled everything, you know I want to win this as much as every one of you”

“That was theoretical, now you had time on the pitch with them as a rival”

You had to think for a moment, taking your time to fix your socks and lacing your boots three times. Stupid superstitions you don’t believe in, but you are not going to risk it today of all days. The team needs to calm their running minds and you need to gather your thoughts.

When it seems like you have nothing worth saying, you take their faces in. You want to win as much as they want to, that’s true, but you also have a lot more to prove.

“They’re frustrated”

“They’re just pissed you broke up with the Catalan divinity”, a quip that worthed Katie a punch from Alessia.

“First of all, she’s la Reina”

Some of the girls laugh, others are just glad you can joke about it, but they’re all waiting for your useful words. There’s a game to win.

“They didn’t expect us to keep up with them, they thought more goals could have easily followed the first one. They’re keeping a high pace waiting for us to trudge backwards, and that’s not what we’re going to do”

“No way, Sherlock!”

Now it’s Caitlin who smacks the Irish’ head, she’s having it worse than you.

“We keep doing what we’re doing”, Kim steps in.

The preparation for this game was intense, the Arsenal team studied Barça for weeks and you know what to expect from them – thanks to your insight, but also thanks to the amount of effort the entire staff and team put into the training sessions.

“I know them, I’m gonna keep annoying the shit out of them and get us some good opportunities”

“You want to play bait?”, Leah is sceptical about your plan.

“Yes”

“No”

“Can work, they have reasons to want to foul her a bit more”, you’re not sure which side Laia’s on.

“Putting her in unnecessary danger, what a great idea to add a name to our injury report!”

“Let’s do it”, your manager interrupts the banter, looking at his watch, “Pass the ball to her whenever she’s free and let her go for the runs when she can”

You know the Barça’s girls, you know how they like to play.

That’s how you find a line of pass for your teammates, or you manage to slip around the Blaugrana’s kits, or even attempt a shot from just outside the box. You can tell they’re annoyed. And you know you can use their annoyance and arrogance against them.

“Let’s put a mark on her”, Leah definitely doesn’t like your plan.

“She already has, let turn it to our advantage”

“I’m here and I’m fine with it”

The second half starts and it gets more physical rather quickly, with both sides looking for a goal. Your teammates move better on the field when the opponents are busy double marking you or making sure you can’t keep or pass the ball.

You take the pressure well, hit after hit.

Until warm-up players distract you, Alexia is running on the sideline and you don’t see Ona’s tackle coming.

It’s a clean tackle, perfectly timed, but you missed a bit. You should have jumped her over or moved your foot away. Instead, your boot is planted on the side of the ball and you crush on the defender’s body before hitting the ground. Hard.

You don’t even hear the whistle this time.

“¡Ay! You okay?”

“Stay away!”

“Leah, calm down”, Alessia has to drag the blonde away from the little circle formed around you.

Your body is curled up on one side, face hidden behind your arms. You can feel the fresh grass of the pitch tickling your neck and the rushed movements close to you.

It takes you a couple of moments to understand the medical team is trying to get your attention, testing you worried about a concussion. Apparently, you hit your head falling down. Once asserted, and once assured both Ona and your teammates you’re fine, you are escorted to the sideline while the game resumes.

Alexia’s eyes are on you.

You always had a feeling of her presence and you were always able to find her wherever she was around you. It doesn’t matter the place, it doesn't matter how many people crowded it. If she had her eyes on you, you knew.

You smile at the realisation you can still sense it.

“How do you feel?”, the medic asks you.

“Like I just hit my head”

“Funny as always”

“Are you being sarcastic, Alice?”

“Glad you didn’t hit it hard enough to get some wisdom”, the woman is not amused by your attempt to dismiss the situation.

They’re holding you up and you’re quite happy they don’t let go when you ask, your legs failing to support you like they are supposed to.

Immediately looking back toward the pitch, you assert the situation. Barça is taking the most of the extra player, pressing higher and controlling the midfield easily. You can’t put your team at a disadvantage, not by wasting time on the side but not by coming back into the game with unsteady legs either.

You gave it all.

“Ask for a sub, Ali, please”

“You okay?”

“Yeah”

It’s ironic how both teams opt to make substitutions at the same time, it’s ironic how Alexia enters on the pitch as you make your exit from the other side.

The Culés crowd is screaming and applauding for their captain, but you like to hope they are also cheering for you as you walk your way towards the bench.

You sit impatiently, getting up every couple of minutes to shout directions to your teammates and to encourage them. Even after Aitana splits around your defence and plays an incredible ball that just needs to be chipped into the net.

The final whistle is both a blessing and a curse.

You join the circle of white kits gathered in the middle of the pitch, exchanging congratulations or supporting pats for every player you meet on your way there. You don’t really listen to your manager’s or Kim’s speeches, always blacking out every rational thought after a match despite the result.

The group disbands soon, tomorrow you will study every single moment of this game to better prepare for the second leg. It’s not done, but it’s over for now.

You encourage some of the younger girls to enjoy the atmosphere in the stadium, not everyone has the opportunity to play in such places and they should take the most in. There are fans to thank for their support too, never stopped cheering for you all.

“¿A dónde crees que vas?” (Where are you going?)

Mapi jumps on your back like you haven’t left the pitch on trampling legs just twenty minutes before.

“Let me lick my wounds in peace, Marìa”, no real spite in your words.

“Lo mereces, nena” (You deserved it)

“I wasn’t hoping for a welcoming party, but you all sure made the statement clear”

“Estás bien, ¿verdad?” (You’re good, right?)

“I’ll survive”

“You better, there’s still the return”, Ingrid must sense her girlfriend is about to say something stupid as she greets you in a warm hug.

The two of them are the only ones of your former teammates you met in person since your transfer, besides Keira who you cross paths with thanks to your mutual blonde friend. You’re glad they can act as a buffer as you find yourself back here.

Said English girls join the little group, animatedly discussing as Leah’s frown gets deeper. You know she’s upset about the result, but this something else entirely.

“Why is her face like that?”, you ask.

“She wants to swipe with the traitor and not with her best-est friend!”

“¡Vale, I was about to ask my favourite teammate ever!”

Keira and you make an all scene exchanging your tops but you cover yourself with an Arsenal warming vest, not really ready to wear the Blaugrana colours again. The Alexia’s one you sometimes happen to fall asleep wearing is another thing entirely, you’re not going to unpack that right here and right now.

Leah’s pissed look and Mapi’s glare about your antics are a good distraction.

Ona reaches out to you to apologise again, but you are quick to pull her in a friendly hug and reassure her that her tackle was clean – contrary to another defender, you joke.

“¡Muy bien, nena, tú lo pediste!” (Fine, you asked for it!), the Spaniard grabs your arm and literally drags you toward the family and friends section of the stadium.

You’re pretty sure you’re about to have a stroke when you realise her intention.

You meet a few of your former teammates on your way to the stands. You accept Irene’s embrace happily, also glad to delay the time of your execution. Jana’ and Claudia’ are a little shorter than what you wished for. Their smiles are sincere and their nice words are honest, you understand and you know it’s even more than what you deserve.

“¿Pensabas de irte sin saludar?” (You thought you could leave without saying goodbye?), Eli doesn’t give you time to answer as she welcomes you in her open arms, holding so tightly you have to hold back tears.

You don’t let her go and she understands you need a moment to compose yourself, hidden in her embrace, and she lets you be. The woman’s the closest to a mother figure for you during your time in Spain, mothers know better.

“You look awful”

“You always were the better looking one, Alba”, you quip back as you let the younger girl join the hug.

“¿Estás bien, mija?” (How are you?)

“Como alguien que perdìo un partido de Champions League, señora S” (As someone who has just lost a Champions League’s game)

“¡Ay! Aún tan formal” (Still with the title)

Alexia’s family welcomed you as a born and raised member of their clan, always trying to make your homesickness less difficult and succeeding at making you feel loved. Yet, you insisted on calling her mother with all the formalities, first out of respect and then just as a running joke between the two of you.

“We’re going out to eat something, you’re coming”

“Nope”, you can’t think of anything worse than sitting and trying to have fun with your ex girlfriend’s little sister and some of your closest friends – who also happen to be your ex’s best friends, your former teammates and the ones that just beat your club and your ass.

“Keira already spilled you guys are free tonight”

Damn Keira.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea”

“Te extrañamos, nena” (We missed you)

You missed them too, truly.

Nevertheless, you have to process all your feelings about being here, being back in Barcelona.

The familiar road to the stadium somehow looked like taking you to a completely different destination. The hectic tunnel somehow crushing on you, the exciting atmosphere somehow making you sick. The Culés crowd is a completely different experience when they’re not cheering for you.

“I just want to sulk in a bit by myself”

Marìa knows you, she doesn’t press on the matter even if you can tell she wants nothing more than to spend more time with you and your friends. Her arm around your shoulder is comforting as you say your goodbyes to Eli and Alba, promising them not to disappear again.

You’re keeping your promise this time.

“¿Estás segura?” (Are you sure?)

You two finally reach a more private part of the tunnel’s exit, stepping a couple of times on the way there to wave at the fans. At least they don’t seem to hate you.

The hug you envelop each other in is the longest and most comforting one you ever exchanged, holding more than what words can tell and actions can convey. You let Mapi go just after spotting a blonde head waiting for you around the corner.

“Yeah, I’m gonna crush your dreams next time we see each other”

“¡Vale, pero mándame un mensaje antes!” (Yeah, but you better text before then)

The defender takes the opposite direction as Leah drops her arms around your shoulders from behind, effectively dragging you into the locker room.

“You good?”

“If someone else asks me again I’m gonna scream till you have to call the Neuro on me”

“Perfect, you can shower then, you stink”

The girls aren’t as loud as they usually are as you just lost a pretty important game and some are gonna sleep really bad thinking about missed opportunities or defence mistakes. You, first of all, know you’re not gonna sleep at all tonight.

When you’re ready to go, you leave the stadium for the parking lot.

“Are you going back to the hotel?”

Leah is probably hoping you decide to join her, Lia and a couple of the girls at the eating place Mapi mentioned before. You honestly would love to spend a quiet night out with your friends, both from your past and present, but you’re pretty sure Alexia’s gonna be there.

She managed to avoid you until now, you don’t want to ruin her night.

“There’s a place I want to go to”

Half an hour drive away from Camp Nou there’s a little secluded beach, rocky shore all the way down to the sea and just a couple of metres of sand in between.

Alexia insisted on bringing you there one day, unprompted and without a real reason to make such a trip in the middle of the week. The location is far away from any tourist spots but close enough to be a place to go when you need to think, surrendered by everything and nothing at the same time.

The Catalan ended up there the first time when she was barely old enough to drive herself around, coming back any time she needed to silence her mind and allowing herself to focus only on the unbothered nature.

You two used to go there together to just exist in the same place at the same time without needing anything else.

However, you got the habit of going there by yourself when you felt overwhelmed and in your last months in Barcelona you feel like you spent more time looking at the sea from that particular spot than in your own home.

The taxi’s drive there is quiet in the most awkward way possible, the old man asking way too many questions for your liking, but when you feel steps approaching you have no doubt who is joining you.

“I can leave, it’s your spot after all”, you gave yourself permission to come also secretly hoping to find her here.

“Tenía una sensación” (No need, I had a feeling)

When she refuses to join the little night out, much to her teammates’ disappointment, the English girls are way too fast to assure her you declined the invite and Mapi even encourages her with a silent but meaningful nod.

She drops on the ground keeping some needed distance from you, crossing her legs and holding herself on the sweater she’s wearing.

“I thought you were ignoring me”

“Ajá, intenté pero mamá me regañó” (Yeah, I was but mom scolded me)

You finally really look at her for the first time in nine months, allowing yourself to take in every single detail you memorised that last day to make sure her eyes still brighten the same way and the creases around her mouth still move in the same spots.

How can she be the same person and a completely different one at the same time?

The older girl is not looking at you, her gaze fixed on the landscape as she tries to regulate her heartbeat while shaking every time a gentle blow of wind urges you both to breathe some air in.

“You’re a brunette now”

Alexia’s laugh is something you had no idea you could miss so deeply until it reaches you open and at full speed, almost knocking you down physically as much emotionally.

When she finally looks at you, oh, you are so fucked.

The sound of the waves crashing on the shore is not enough to cover the silence that surrounds you again, you’re sure she’s here to kill you slowly without having to use words or weapons. She just needs to remind you what you left behind, who you lost.

“Lo siento” (I’m sorry)

“I– what? No, no, you don’t need to–”

“Te conozco” (I know you)

The Catalan has an all speech planned, rehearsed all the way here just to make sure she can say everything she needs to say in the best way she can.

“Lo siento, te conozco y yo– I knew you weren’t in love anymore y I didn’t do anything”

“I never stopped loving you, Alexia”, you have to make sure she understands it was never about her.

“Lo sé” (I know)

A warm hand leaves the hiding spot in the pocket of her sweater to land in the space between you. It’s not an invitation, you are not stupid enough to hope that, but it’s an open gesture. You believe she even smiles, but you’re probably delusional and actually concussed.

“I was there, I saw you fall in love with the club y with the city y conmigo”, she starts, fixing her gaze back to the waves, “I was there and I saw you fall out of love too”

“Alexia, I–”

“Por favor déjame terminar, you left without a word and I have words to say now” (Let me finish, please)

When it was time for you to leave Barcelona, she was the one taking you to the airport. She insisted, she was adamant about it.

You broke up with her with a transfer request and a shiny contract signed with a club in a different country, and she didn’t try to change your mind.

You packed your life in Barcelona and your life together in a couple of boxes, shipped them to an apartment you didn’t even visit yourself beforehand, and she went to her mother for a week just to give you the space to do that.

You said your goodbyes to your teammates at the end of a particularly hard gym session, no game left to play and a recovery plan already sent in by the trainers, and she watched over you a couple of steps back even if all she wanted was to join the group hug.

However, when you wanted to take a taxi to the airport, she was determined to drive you herself. The radio mocking you all the way there, playing your song as soon as she started the car up. You didn’t dare to turn it off, but you wished she had.

Alexia didn’t say a word, she parked the car and helped with your luggage, following you inside till just bureaucracy and security checks stopped her. Not a single word, not a single tear. You had red eyes and shaking hands, your ex girlfriend nodded to you and let you leave like that.

“You fell in love with Barcelona and playing for Barça and I thought that was enough for you just because it’s everything to me”

“You are–”

“No, por favor” (Please, don’t do that)

You’re not sure if she’s asking you to let her apologise or if she wants to stop you from saying something that could most definitely just hurt the two of you more.

“I’m sorry, I knew you didn’t feel at home anymore and I just hoped your love for me was enough to make you stay”

“It was”

It takes everything in you not to reach her, brushing away the tears that are marking her cheeks.

“Ay, but that’s why you ask for the transfer, no?”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be, you left a place that was not your home”

“I don’t even know where my home is”, you’re not sure if there’s a place for you to call home in the first place. Maybe you’re just not made to feel at home.

“Es aquí” (It’s here)

You register her coming closer just when she has a finger pointing in the middle of your chest, eyes soft as she looks right through your heavy breaths and broken soul.

“Tu casa es tu corazón y cuando tu corazón no se siente en casa, te vas” (Your home is where your heart is and when your heart doesn’t feel at home anymore, you leave)

“I should have explained, I should have tried harder”

“I knew”

“Alexia–”

“No importa, I didn’t understand it, but it’s okay”, she’s the one reaching for you, gently touching your face as she’s scared you’re gonna break in a million pieces if she speaks too loud or brushes her fingers too roughly on your cheeks.

“Mi casa está aquí, mi familia está aquí y mi futuro está aquí, juego en mi equipo favorito y estoy dónde está mi corazón. Soy afortunada, tú no tienes la misma suerte. Intentaste explicarlo y nunca te escuché, y luego fuiste” (My home is here, my family is here and my future is here. I play for my childhood club and I’m exactly where my heart is. I’m lucky, you don’t have the same luck. You tried to explain it so many times but I never listened. And then you left)

“Te juro, dejar Barcelona fue la única manera” (I swear, leaving Barcelona was the only way)

“Lo sé, me sentí como una parte de mí dejé contigo” (I know, I felt like a part of me left with you), she takes a moment and you can see in her eyes that she spent a lot of time thinking about this, “I feel like I was missing a piece that let me breathe properly and kick a football the right way or winning successfully and sleeping peacefully”

“I’m sorry I had to leave”

“You never left, not really”

Alexia’s voice is shaking now, for the first time since sitting next to you and letting you understand you can forgive yourself for hurting her. She did.

“No estabas aquí, pero nunca te dejaste” (You were not here, but you never left), she laughs before explaining herself, “You’re in the cafeteria you were a regular at and I can’t let myself go anymore, you’re in the dating shows I avoid to watch. You’re in the songs you say you hate but you sing so bad while you cook”

You can’t hold her gaze when she says the last part, “You’re in the footballs left behind after training”.

“You knew”

“Nunca siento que no estás aquí, a veces lo odio a veces me ayuda” (I never feel like you are not here, sometimes I hate it and sometimes I hold on into it)

“Yo también te extraño” (I missed you too)

Her laugh is still your favourite sound in the entire world.

When the sun disappears under the waves, the Catalan offers to take you back to your hotel.

Alexia’s driving always manages to calm your nerves, you don’t miss the fact she is taking the longest road and she has the windows rolled down even if she hates it.

You’re exhausted, drained both physically and mentally. Somehow, though, your chest doesn’t feel so heavy and your lungs actually fill with fresh air, your mind doesn’t feel so crowded and your thoughts actually unravel rationally.

The last time you were in a car with Alexia it felt like the two of you were going to bury a piece of yourself down the heart of the earth, this time you are going to bring it flowers. This time, when a familiar song starts to play, you find the courage to turn it off.

“Thank you”

“Por no odiarte?” (For not hating you?), she quips, not taking her eyes away from the still very familiar road.

“Thank you for understanding”

“Hiciste lo que debías hacer” (You did what you had to do)

Alexia stops the car in the private parking lot of the hotel your team is staying in, you don’t need to check the time to know you should head back soon.

You say your goodbyes, knowing you will see each other in ten days and it’s probably going to hurt as much even if in a completely different way.

She doesn’t accompany you to the hotel’s entrance, but, unlike the last time, you turn around when you hear her calling out your name.

“I hope you found what you left for”

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