#gpcwsl

You were sitting on the couch, casually flipping through your phone, when Alessia came into the room. Her usual, cheerful smile was on her face as she walked over to you, ready to greet you with one of her sweet, affectionate nicknames, but this time, you decided to play a little prank.

“Hey, Alessia,” you said, not even looking up from your phone.

Her smile faltered, just slightly, but she didn’t say anything. It was rare that you called her by her full name, usually sticking to “baby” or “darling,” so the sudden shift in tone caught her off guard.

“Alessia, are you hungry?” you asked, still not looking at her.

She blinked, a confused frown tugging at the corner of her lips, but still, she didn’t respond right away. You could see her standing there, waiting for something more, but you were resolute in your silence.

You continued scrolling, pretending not to notice how her shoulders slumped, or the way her gaze lingered on you, her face softening into a pout. She didn’t say anything, but you could see the gears turning in her head. She was wondering what was going on, why you were acting distant.

“Do you want anything to eat? Or maybe some coffee?” she asked gently, her voice betraying a hint of concern.

You didn’t answer. You simply shook your head and turned your gaze back to your phone, giving her no attention. The silence between you both felt heavier now.

Alessia took a step back, her eyes shifting between you and the ground. She could feel the subtle sting of worry creeping up. Maybe she did something wrong. She was sure of it now. You must be mad at her for some reason. You hadn’t called her “baby” or “darling” in what felt like an eternity, and the thought of upsetting you made her stomach twist.

“Sweetheart, if you’re upset, you know you can talk to me, right?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Still, no answer came from you, and Alessia’s heart dropped. She stood there for a long moment, unsure of what to do next. She didn’t want to press you further, but the thought of you being upset was gnawing at her.

But then, as you glanced up at her, your heart almost stopped. Alessia stood there, looking down at you with big, slightly teary eyes, her lower lip trembling, a pout that was hard to ignore. She was so vulnerable in that moment, and it broke your heart.

She must have felt so hurt, thinking you were angry with her. You couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Less,” you started softly, voice full of regret.

She met your gaze, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears, as her voice came out in a whisper. “Do you not love me anymore?”

Your heart shattered at the sight of her, and you rushed to her, pulling her into your arms, cradling her face in your hands.

“No, no, no, baby, I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I was just messing with you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I love you so much, right?”

She let out a soft breath, her pout slowly fading into a small smile as you wiped away a tear from her cheek.

“You promise?” she asked quietly, looking up at you, searching your eyes for any trace of dishonesty.

“I promise,” you said, leaning in to kiss her forehead softly. “You’re my baby, always.”

She smiled, a little more relaxed now, and wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug. “Don’t ever do that again,” she mumbled into your chest.

You laughed, holding her even tighter, your heart full of love and guilt. “I won’t, I promise.”

-

Leah noticed it the moment you stepped into the kitchen, after walking into her house - with your key.

She had been leaning against the counter, waiting for you like she always did when you finished work, ready with a cup of tea and a warm smile. The same smile your roommate gives you.

Leah and you started rooming together when things got a bit heavy. Leah and you have been friends for a while now, she met you during the euros final. When Leah tore her ACL, you insisted to move in with her. Leah didn’t say no. And she definitely said no when you tried to head back to your house once Leah was fully recovered.

You’re just friends. Just roommates. Just friends. Nothing more. Or, at least that’s what Leah kept saying to herself every night in bed.

The second you walked into the house, the second her eyes landed on your face, the smile, that sweet, charming smile, faded.

Your lip—split, red, still healing.

She set her mug down a little too hard, the ceramic clinking against the counter.

“What the hell happened?” she asked, her voice sharp, worried.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you walked toward her. “It’s fine, Leah. Just part of the job.”

Her arms crossed over her chest, brows furrowing. “That’s not an answer.”

You stopped in front of her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her body. Close enough to see the way her jaw clenched as her gaze flickered between your lips and your eyes, frustration clear in the set of her features.

“There was a chase,” you admitted. “Suspect wasn’t too happy about getting caught.”

Leah inhaled sharply, shaking her head as her fingers twitched like she wanted to reach out but was holding herself back.

“Don’t like it,” she muttered, the same three words she always said when she saw you hurt.

You gave her a small, tired smile. “It’s my job.”

Leah swallowed hard, and for a moment, the air between you shifted. The space that had always been comfortable, always toeing the line between friendship and something more, suddenly felt charged.

Her gaze lingered on your lips—not just because of the injury, but because of something else.

Something she wanted.

Something you wanted too.

She reached up, fingers barely ghosting over your jaw before her thumb brushed against your split lip. The touch was gentle, careful, yet it sent a shiver down your spine. You winced slightly, but neither of you moved away.

Leah’s breath hitched.

She was close—so close that if you leaned in even a fraction more, your lips would meet.

Her eyes flicked to yours, searching, waiting.

You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, the anticipation thick between you. Your lips parted, your body tilting instinctively toward hers

Then your phone rang.

The shrill sound shattered the moment, making you both jump.

You sighed, shutting your eyes briefly before pulling back. Leah exhaled, stepping away as you grabbed your phone from your pocket, muttering a quiet curse when you saw your partner’s name on the screen.

Leah scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned back to her tea. “Of course.”

You sent her an apologetic look before answering. “Yeah?”

Leah didn’t listen to the conversation, too busy staring into her mug like it had personally offended her. But when you hung up, rubbing a hand over your face, she glanced at you.

“You have to go?”

You shook your head. “No. Just an update on the case.”

Leah hummed, but the tension from before was gone, replaced with something quieter. Something unsaid.

You both knew what had almost happened.

Neither of you acknowledged it.

At least, not yet.

-

Later that night, you were curled up on the couch together, like always. Leah’s arm was draped around your waist, pulling you against her, her warmth seeping into you.

It was normal. This was normal.

But the way Leah kept glancing at you, the way her fingers absently traced patterns against your hip—none of it felt normal anymore.

It felt like waiting.

You turned your head slightly, catching her staring at your lip again. Her frown returned, a quiet frustration in her eyes. Before you could say anything, she reached up again, brushing her thumb over the cut like she had earlier.

You winced.

She sighed. “Don’t like it.”

You smiled softly. “Still my job.”

Leah didn’t pull away this time. Instead, she studied your face like she was memorizing every inch of it.

And then, she leaned in.

This time, there was nothing stopping her.

The kiss was soft, careful, but there was no hesitation. Just warmth, just her, just this moment you had both been waiting for. Her hand cupping your cheek now, pulling you up more, deepening the kiss. Your hands settled on her chest, to stable yourself, but to also feel.

When she pulled away, her forehead rested against yours, her breath mingling with yours.

“It’s a little embarrassing of how long I wanted to do that.” Leah mumbled, still staring at your cut, before looking up.

“Yeah. You should’ve done that a lot sooner,” you murmured, lips curving into a small smirk.

Leah let out a breathy laugh. “I know.”

You reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. “But you can now do that a lot more.”

Leah grinned, squeezing your hand.

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

The room hums with energy, a crowd of devoted fans packed tightly into the event space. After winning the Champions League, Barcelona’s signing event is overflowing. People wave jerseys, flags, posters—anything they can get Alexia Putellas to sign. Cameras flash, voices overlap, barriers strain under the weight of excitement.

Alexia sits at the center table, signing one item after another with practiced ease. Her smile never falters, but security is starting to. A small wave of pushing at the front sends a ripple through the crowd. Barriers wobble.

That’s when you step in.

Tattoos peek out from beneath the rolled sleeves of your black uniform. There’s a sharp focus in your eyes, a quiet authority in the way you move. You cut through the cluster of bodies with ease, shoulders squared, voice firm.

“Back up!”

The crowd reacts immediately. You position yourself beside the table, between Alexia and the restless fans. Every movement is controlled, deliberate. A hand up here, a quiet warning there—your presence alone calms the chaos.

Alexia turns slightly, catching sight of you for the first time. Her gaze lingers longer than expected, curiosity flickering across her features. She’s used to the usual male security team, not a woman with tattoos and a stare that could stop a stampede.

Throughout the event, her eyes keep drifting back to you. When you lean forward to adjust the barrier, she glances. When you scan the perimeter, she glances. And when a fan reaches a bit too far over the table, the way you step in—steady, protective—makes something warm flicker in her chest.

-

After hours of signing, photos, and flashes, the event finally winds down. Most of the crowd is ushered out, leaving the room quieter. You stay behind, ensuring everything is clear, standing near the doorway with arms crossed, that same focused look etched on your face.

“Hey.”

Her voice pulls your attention. Alexia stands a few steps away, still in her Barça tracksuit, cheeks slightly flushed but eyes bright.

“I wanted to thank you,” she says, walking closer. “Things got a little hectic, and you… handled it perfectly.”

Your expression doesn’t shift much—stern, composed—but a faint blush creeps up your neck. You give a small nod.

“It’s my job,” you reply simply.

Her smile widens. “Still… I’m really glad you were here.”

Her gaze drifts over your tattoos for a moment before meeting your eyes again. There’s something playful in the way she repeats your name when you give it to her, almost like she’s trying it on for size.

“Y/n,” she says softly.

“Room’s clear,” you answer, stepping aside to let her pass.

She lets out a small laugh, like she’s caught you being unintentionally endearing. “Okay. See you around, Y/n.”

As she walks away, that unmistakable smile spreads across her face—a real one, the kind she doesn’t flash for cameras. She glances back once before exiting, still smiling.

-

The locker room buzzed with post-match energy—shouts, laughter, the thud of boots being kicked off and the hiss of water bottles opening. Katie McCabe sat on the bench, one leg bouncing furiously as she peeled her socks off with twitchy fingers. Her eyes darted around, barely resting anywhere for long. Her thoughts didn’t either.

It wasn’t that she was nervous. They’d won, and she’d even assisted Caitlin’s goal. But her body hadn’t got the memo to stop. Her hands were drumming against her thigh now, and she was halfway through retying her ponytail for no real reason when Beth’s voice cut across the room.

“God, you can’t ever sit still, McCabe,” Beth said with a teasing laugh, nodding at Katie’s constant fidgeting. “You’ve got ants in your pants or something?”

The words weren’t harsh. Not really. Just playful. The kind of banter that got thrown around after matches all the time. But it hit Katie sideways.

She froze, her leg stilled.

The room kept spinning around her, full of motion and sound, but she suddenly felt like she was glowing under a spotlight. Her jaw tightened as she forced a smile, then grabbed her water bottle a bit too quickly and muttered, “Just got energy, s’all.”

But she was quiet the rest of the time. Her body didn’t calm, but now every bounce of her leg felt like a mistake. Every wiggle, every twist of her wrist or shuffle in her seat, felt like something she should hide.

-

Back at home, the flat was quiet. Caitlin was in the kitchen grabbing two beers, humming softly. Katie sat curled up on the couch, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her phone screen flickering in her hand. She was still. Almost too still.

Caitlin noticed. She always did.

“Alright, what’s up?” Caitlin asked, setting the drinks down and sitting beside her, her arm slipping easily around Katie’s waist.

“Nothing,” Katie mumbled. “Just tired.”

Caitlin tilted her head. “You’re never still when you’re tired. You’re twitchy and adorable and annoying as hell when you’re tired.”

Katie gave a weak laugh, then went quiet again.

Caitlin waited. And when Katie didn’t say anything, she gently pressed, “Was it what Beth said?”

Katie’s eyes flicked toward her, then dropped. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s making you go quiet,” Caitlin said softly, brushing Katie’s arm with her thumb. “Talk to me.”

Katie let out a sigh. “It just… I know I’m always moving. I know I fidget and bounce and interrupt people sometimes and I can’t help it. I’m not trying to be annoying. But when people point it out—even when they’re joking—it makes me feel like… like I should just shut it all off, y’know?”

Caitlin’s heart clenched. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Katie’s temple.

“Hey,” she whispered. “You don’t have to shut anything off. Not for anyone.”

Katie blinked a few times, fighting the tight feeling in her chest.

“I love how your brain works,” Caitlin said. “I love that you’re always buzzing. That you think in twenty directions at once and have three different ideas before I’ve finished one sentence. That you’re alive in this loud, bright way no one else is.”

Katie turned her head, meeting Caitlin’s eyes, and there was something raw in hers now.

“And I love your fidgeting,” Caitlin added with a soft grin. “Means I always know where you are in a room. You’re like… constant motion. My own little storm.”

Katie cracked a smile—small, but real. “Your storm, huh?”

“Damn right,” Caitlin said, pulling her into a hug. “And if anyone can’t handle it, they can get out of the way.”

Katie laughed against her shoulder, and this time, her leg bounced again. She didn’t try to stop it.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“Always,” Caitlin replied. “Now, c’mere. Let’s put on something crap on telly and you can fidget all you want. I’ll just sit here and admire it.”