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iinsertblognamee · 1 month

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the streets of barcelona

summary; yn foord and alexia putellas meet

spanish | english translation

"You got everything packed?"

A small nod was all you responded back to your sister, as you let yourself get one last look at your shared apartment. The room looked practically the same from a simple glance, the discoloured paint on the walls mixed with the old posters you had found at a garage sale when you first moved in. The kitchen sink holds the dirty plates from breakfast, alongside the empty wine glasses from last night's celebrations.

You let yourself study the room further, the missing objects standing out to you like a sore thumb, the rooms somehow seeming bare without all your personal items that were now packed away and about halfway towards your new apartment.

Your eye caught Caitlin's at the last second, a small frown appearing on her lips, her eyes still red from last night. It doesn't take long for her eyes to well up once again, her bottom lip wobbling.

The distance between you two becomes extinct in an instant, as your arms wrap around each other. Your grips are so tight that neither of you can't make it if it's you or the younger woman who is shaking, but you don't dare to let go. Your lips press kisses in her hairline, as you mumble 'It's going to be okay' mixed with 'You're gonna be okay'.

It couldn't have been a few minutes before the timer on your phone filled the silence, Cailtin tenses in your embrace, before sniffling.

You give yourself one last squeeze, before pulling away. Bringing your hand up to Caitlin's cheek to wipe away her tears.

You had both said your official goodbyes last night, hoping to avoid all of this, this morning.

"I'm gonna miss you chicky" She sent you a small smile at the nickname, before grabbing your suitcase from the front door as you grabbed your passport and plane ticket.

You had arranged a pickup service to take you to the airport, wanting a few moments before you were thrown into the madness that was about to come. As excited as you were, you couldn't deny the anxiety that followed. The idea of a new team was always nerve-racking, but the added stress of moving to a country with no one you know, as well as speaking very little Spanish was keeping you on edge.

The driver met you at the steps of your apartment, taking the suitcase off your sister, as she pulled you into one last hug, squeezing you extra tight before letting go - a small wave and a 'good luck' and then she was gone.

The car ride over was nerve-racking, your knee bouncing as you watched the houses outside go by. The traffic was decent enough, the sun shining down on the airport as you thanked the driver once more, before making your way through the entry.

You gave one last look outside, taking in the sunny London that you had called home for the past three years, the crumbling thought finally hitting you.

London was no longer home.

―

The sight of Barcelona was a sight for sore eyes, your suitcase trailing behind as you attempted to move around the groups of people surrounding the waiting bay.

You had been contacted by the management team a few days prior organising a driver to pick you up from the airport and take you to your new apartment, figuring the last thing you needed was to get lost on your first day in Barcelona.

You looked out for the number plate you had memorised, walking past car after car - apologising to the people you bumped into along the way. It would have been one of the last cars parked on the strip, a woman dressed in familiar colours, sitting on the hood with her arms crossed.

She had thick sunglasses on, dark so you couldn't tell if she was watching you or not but as you got closer, her attention seemed to shift from the skyline to you. Her arms don't uncross, as she stands up - her head visibly looking you up and down before a calm, but detached look appeared on her face.

"Miss Foord?"

"Sí-" 'Yes'. You blame the flight for the way your voice cracks, coughing a little before nodding your head "Yes, yes. sorry." She nods her head but doesn't add anything else, opening the back door for you before taking the suitcase out of your hand and walking towards the boot.

The awkwardness doesn't help your beating heart, wiping your palms on your track pants before dipping your way into the car. Making sure to close the door behind you.

The lady makes her way into the front of the car a few seconds later. The radio plays softly in the background, your attention glued out your window as you watched the city fly by - attempting to remember every street sign and building you see.

"¿Cómo estuvo tu vuelo?". 'How was your flight?'.

Your head whips right around, the lady looking towards the road, you almost think you might have imagined she spoke, your mouth opening before closing again.

The silence fills the space in an instant, a frown appearing on your lips. The car comes to a stop at the lights, the driver turning her head towards you with a look on her face that you take as confusion.

"Uh. Lo sien" 'uh. I'm sorry'. The sudden realisation that you have no idea what she's asked, and now you can't even remember the basic Spanish you taught yourself since the transfer was confirmed. "Uh no. no entiendo?". 'uh no. I don't understand'. You wince at your attempt, the confusion clear in your voice as the driver tilts her head a little before turning her attention back to the road.

"How was the flight?" Her English is a hundred times better than your Spanish, Her voice seems softer in English, not as deep.

"Good. Uh. Buena. It was Buena. Fast, Which is always good" 'good'. your attempt to bring some Spanish into the conversation isn't missed by the driver, her lips curling into a small smirk before disappearing almost as fast.

"Sí, eso es bueno" 'Yes that is good'. As limited as your Spanish knowledge may run, you pick up 'yes' and 'good', nodding your head with a small smile as she catches your gaze in the rear mirror.

Feeling a little more confident, you give yourself a few seconds to think up what other Spanish you have learnt before attempting to start up a conversation again.

"What's uh, um. ¿Su nombre?" 'Your name?'

"Camila"

"Camila" You repeat, looking out the window again.

"I help get the transfers settled" She adds, turning a corner before catching your gaze in the rear mirror once again. "It's a beautiful place but can be very daunting".

"Sí. Sí" 'yes. yes'. You agree before adding "But very exciting. My, um, my hermana is very jealous" 'sister'.

"¿Tienes una hermana?" 'you have a sister?'. She catches herself before you can ask, "You have a sister?"

"Sí. Sí. A younger sister. She's a footballer too" 'yes. yes'.

"Maravillosa. Maravillosa. Wonderful". 'wonderful. wonderful'.

Before you could respond, the car came to a stop - your attention pulled away from Camila and out towards the modern building.

You recognised it in an instant, the many photos and emails that you and management had been exchanging over the past couple of months came down to this.

"Hogar dulce hogar" 'home sweet home'. You couldn't find yourself asking what Camila had said, too engrossed with the building in front of you, it seemed bigger than in the pictures, prettier too.

You take a deep breath in, glancing at the building once more before taking a deep breath and opening the car door.

"Welcome Home" and for once you wished Camila had spoken in Spanish so you wouldn't understand what she had just said.

―

Camila didn't stay for too long, handing over your keys and helping you bring up your suitcase, she had written her contact details on a piece of paper that was left on your kitchen bench. Explained that she would be back tomorrow to bring you to training and then left.

Your furniture had arrived before you had, placed through the apartment alongside all your boxes. If you hadn't been so emotionally drained for the past 24 hours you probably would have attempted to start unpacking but your hunger won this round, and with some newfound confidence you decided to check out the supermarket that was just down the street.

The walk was nice enough, a slight breeze filling the streets as people passed by.

Getting to your destination, 'tienda de comestibles' 'grocery'. written out the front, buckets of fresh fruit outside brought a smile to your face before walking in. The smell of many different flavours fills the air, and two children giggling and chasing each other almost run into you, before quickly yelling out 'Lo lamento' 'sorry'. You only smile and shake your head, taking yourself further through the store.

You pick out some cold meats, before grabbing yourself a couple of bread rolls, a small jar of pesto and a chocolate bar. Making your way towards the checkout, your attention purely on grabbing some notes out of your wallet, before slamming into a body.

"¿Adónde vas?!" 'Where are you going?!'.

Your head snaps up, an apology on the tip of your tongue, before sucking your breath in, her eyes widening as they meet yours.

Your brain seems to short-circuit, working overtime to say something, anything. Your limited knowledge of Spanish has completely gone, your mouth opening and closing before you practically choke out

"La Reina" 'the queen'.

You feel the heat rush through your cheeks instantly as your eyes widen.

"Como me llamaste?" 'what did you call me?'. she choked out, her cheeks almost matching yours. You take a step back, suddenly realising just how close the two of you were to each other.

"I am so sorry. lo lamento. lo lamento" 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry'. You splatter out, taking a few more steps back, attempting to get away as fast as possible but a hand stops you. Her hand.

"Ey. No hay necesidad de disculparse" 'hey. there's no need to apologise'.

Her words are missed by you, although her eyes soften - your confusion clear as you try to think about to all those Spanish classes you took. Concentration seemed to be your biggest fault at the moment, especially with the way she was looking at you.

"Don't apologise" Her voice was softer that you almost missed what she was saying, her hand rubbing your arm distracted you once again.

"Sorry," you reply, your cheeks heating up further as she lets out a small laugh, shaking her head with a smile on her lips. "Tan linda" 'so cute'. she mumbles, but you manage to catch it with how close you are once again.

"I-I don't know what that means" you mumble back.

Her cheeks heat up once again, her eyes suddenly interested in anything but yours.

She shakes her head, before her gaze catches yours once more, dropping down to your lips and then back up. She goes to say something else before a cough brings you both back, a mother with a baby on her hip looking at the pair of you with annoyance.

"Estoy tratando de pasar" 'I'm trying to get through'. Her voice is sharp, the footballer in front of you moving you both out of her way, a small "Lo lamento" 'sorry'. leaving her lips, as the woman just scoffs and walks past the pair of us.

The silence fills the space instantly, your eyes finding hers once again. The moment is gone, as you bite your lip - unsure what to say next.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall creates a chain reaction, a yawn leaving your lips as the events of the past twenty-four hours finally catch up to you.

You bring your hand over your mouth, yawning once again.

"Perdóname" 'forgive me'.

The Spanish leaving your lips brings a smile to her face once again, her eyes lighting up.

"¿tú hablas español?" 'you speak spanish?'. Her voice light, a small laugh finishing the question off.

"un poco. aunque no muy bueno" 'a bit. although not very good'. You struggle a little, your pronunciation not perfect, but the smile on her face as her eyes watch your hand indicate 'a little bit' is enough to bring a smile back to your face.

"It's okay, I'll teach you" Her switch to English surprises you, her voice lighter than her native tongue. Your excitement at the thought fills, your eyes widening at the thought, "Really?"

"sí, claro. sería un honor para mí" 'yes of course. It would be an honour for me'. You catch enough of the sentence to understand she's true to her offer.

"Thank you, Alexia"

"No hay problema mi amor" 'no problem my love'.

The blush that attacks your cheeks at the sound of 'amor' 'love'. coming off her lips only widens her smile.

She vowed for that day on, she would always call you 'mi amor' 'my love'.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso fanfics #barca femeni x reader #barca femeni #foord!reader

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prismaticpichu · 1 month

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Zack, still having Angeal’s contact in his PHS after Modeoheim.

He calls him every once in a while, just to hear him again. Just to hear the choppy, fuzzy sound of his voice over the voicemail. Just to leave a short, quiet message saying that he’s always thinking of him and hopes that he is proud.

Until one day, as he tries to call his old mentor, the line officially disconnects.

No voicemail, no voice, no Angeal.

And the only thing that’s left is a robotic reminder that the man on the other side no longer exists.

When Sephiroth finds Zack crying that night, he isn’t sure what to do. What to say. Just hovers off to the side, watching the broken boy in front of him, and realizing that he simply can’t stand there and do nothing.

He gently asks Zack what’s wrong.

Zack tearily holds up the phone, shows him the extinct contact. Tells him that he lost the last tangible memories he has left of him. That he’s forever gone. That he’ll never, ever hear Angeal’s voice again.

Only Sephiroth says that’s not true.

Zack stares at him, a glistening tear crawling down his cheek. Doesn’t say a word.

And Sephiroth uses the silence to pull out his own PHS, open his messages, and scroll to a voicemail from years prior.

He clicks on it.

Angeal: Hey, Sephiroth, it’s Angeal. I got caught on the train again—don’t think I’ll be back in time to meet my usual training with Zack. Do you mind checking in with him? I know, I know: you probably don’t want to. But please believe me when I say he’s really, really something special. It would mean a lot to me. Oh, and… if you do decide to spare some time for the pup, tell him I’m proud of him… alright? He doesn’t hear it a lot. Anyway, train is leaving now. Thanks, friend. I’ll see you later.

The voicemail ends.

“I admittedly… didn’t want to check-in that day,”Sephiroth says gently, hardly more than a whisper as he tucks the phone back into his pocket. Gazes earnestly at Zack as the boy gazes back in a tearful, numbing silence. “So, please… let me say what I should have said then.”

He places a hand on his friend’s shoulder, voice growing even softer.

“Angeal is so, so very proud of you, Zack. More than words can express…”

He gives a gentle squeeze.

“And so am I.”

#sephiroth #ffvii #zack fair #crisis core #angeal hewley #floof #late night floof #ok ok it’s a bit sharper than usual floof but I was just feelin it dhdhdh #<3 #ff7 #final fantasy vii

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