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Blindsided by You

(This chapter contains smut!)

Chapter 31

"Y/n? Are you sleeping in the middle of the day—"

Her mother pushed the bedroom door wide open, and the sentence died right in her throat.

She stood frozen on the threshold, her mouth open in absolute, speechless shock. Her eyes darted fromthe pile of clothes tossed carelessly across the chair, to Ferran—bare-chested, paralyzed with fear—and finally straight to her daughter.

A sudden, terrifying surge of adrenaline hit the room. Y/n and Ferran scrambled in a desperate, chaotic panic, tangling their legs in the sheets as they yanked the heavy duvet all the way up to their chests. Y/n’s heart was hammering against her ribs so hard it felt painful.

"Mom! Close the door!" Y/n screamed, her face burning with a mix of intense anger and suffocating embarrassment. "Get out! Close the door right now!"

Her mother’s surprise instantly exploded into pure, unfiltered rage. Her jaw set, her eyes wide and terrifyingly sharp. She didn't close the door. Instead, she took three aggressive strides into the room.

"What the hell is this?!" her mother roared, her voice booming off the walls so loudly that Ferran actually flinched. She pointed a shaking, furious finger straight at Ferran. "What is he doing in your bed?!"

"Mom, stop yelling and get out!" Y/n yelled back, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she clutched the blanket against her collarbone.

"Don't you dare tell me to get out!" her mother screeched, stepping right up to the edge of the mattress. She glared down at Ferran with total venom and disgust, her face flushed red. "You! What are you doing to my daughter?!"

Ferran swallowed hard, his hands gripping the sheet as he tried to speak calmly despite the terrifying tension. "Ma'am, please, listen to me—"

"I am not listening to a single word out of your mouth!" she screamed, cutting him off so loudly her voice cracked. "Get your clothes on and get the hell out of here right now!"

"Get out of my house!" Y/n snapped, tears of pure rage spilling over her eyelashes. "Get out, Mom! Now!"

Her mother scoffed loudly, giving Ferran one last furious, murderous glare from head to toe before turning her rage back onto Y/n. "Unbelievable. You are an absolute embarrassment."

Without another word, her mother spun around on her heel, marched down the hallway, and slammed the front door shut so hard the entire apartment trembled.

The silence that followed was heavy, metallic, and completely suffocating.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Y/n buried her face in her hands, letting out a long, shaky sob as tears of pure stress burned her skin.

"God, I can't believe this," Y/n whispered, her voice trembling violently.

They hurriedly pulled their clothes back on in a frantic, awkward rush. The soft, sweet mood from earlier was entirely shattered, replaced by a thick, heavy panic. Y/n’s hands were shaking so badly she could barely pull her sweater over her head. She stood by the edge of the bed, running both hands through her messy hair, pacing back and forth across the small wooden floorboards.

Ferran pulled his shirt over his head, his expression tight with worry and heavy guilt. He stepped slowly toward her, reaching out tentatively to catch her arm. "Y/n.... Did I ruin everything? Im so sorry"

Y/n stopped pacing and looked up at him, shaking her head immediately. "No. No, Ferran, please don't think that. It's not your fault at all." She pressed her palms to her burning temples, taking a shaky, ragged breath. "She always does this. She has never respected my space, she meddles in every single thing I do, and she uses that spare key like she owns this house. I'm just... I'm so stressed and mortified that she attacked you like that."

Ferran gently wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest and resting his chin on top of her head. He could feel her whole body trembling against him. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked softly, rubbing slow, comforting circles into her back. "I can stay here with you, or I can come with you and talk to her."

"No," Y/n sighed, closing her eyes for a moment against his warm chest. "You should go back to Barcelona. I need to handle this with my mom alone, otherwise she's just going to scream at both of us and it's going to be a complete disaster."

Ferran looked hesitant, his dark eyes filled with reluctance and deep concern, but he nodded. He cupped her face in his hands, pressing a slow, grounding kiss to her forehead. "Call me as soon as you get back to your apartment, okay? Promise me."

"I promise," she murmured.

Once Ferran gathered his things and quietly left, the apartment felt cold and ringing with silence. Y/n stood in the kitchen, staring at her phone. She pulled up her mother’s contact and pressed dial.

It rang four times before going straight to voicemail.

She tried again. Straight to missed calls.

A sharp spike of anger flared in Y/n's chest. She wasn't going to sit here and let her mother ignore her after bursting into her private life like a hurricane. Grabbing her jacket, car keys, and purse, Y/n marched out of her apartment and headed straight down to her car.

The twenty-minute drive to her childhood home was a blur of gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. By the time Y/n parked on the familiar driveway, her heart was thudding wildly against her ribs.

She unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Y/n walked into the kitchen and found her mother cooking.

"Mom, we need to talk," Y/n said, her voice firm as she stopped near the edge of the table.

Her mother didn't even look up. "There is nothing to talk about. You are an absolute disgrace."

"You can't just unlock my door, walk into my bedroom, and start screaming at a guest in my house!" Y/n raised her voice, the anger she had been holding back finally spilling over. "You have zero respect for my privacy or my boundaries! I am not a little girl anymore, Mom. I am a grown woman running my own life. You do not get to come into my home and act like a maniac!"

Her mother turned around, her face instantly twisting back into that same terrifying, aggressive fury.

"A guest?!" her mother screamed, slapping her palm flat onto the table with a loud CRACK. "You brought that footballer into your bed?! You've been seeing him behind my back this whole time?!"

"Yes!" Y/n yelled back, tears of rage springing to her eyes. "Because we are back together! We fixed things, and we're taking it slow!"

"Taking it slow?!" her mother scoffed, taking two aggressive steps toward her, towering over Y/n with her eyes wide and glaring. "Are you out of your mind, Y/n?! Look at him! A rich, famous footballer who lives hundreds of miles away in Spain! You honestly think a guy like him actually takes you seriously now? He is using you again because it's easy and convenient for him!"

"He is not using me!" Y/n screamed back. "You don't know a single thing about how much he cares about me or how hard he worked to make things right!"

"I know enough!" her mother barked, pointing a sharp finger right between Y/n's eyes. "You could be with a nice, respectable local man who actually settles down here, someone with a real, stable future who respects our family! But instead, you're running right back to someone way out of your league who's just going to toss you in the trash again when he gets bored! You have no self-respect!"

"I love him!" Y/n screamed, her voice echoing through the whole house. "And he loves me! Why can't you ever just be happy for me?! Why do you always have to control every single thing I do?!"

"Because you're stupid!" her mother shouted back, stepping right into Y/n's personal space, her voice dripping with venom. "Because you make pathetic decisions the second I'm not standing over your shoulder! I raised you to be better than this, and you're throwing your life away for some guy who doesn't give a damn about you! I will not sit by and watch you make a fool out of yourself. If you keep seeing him, if you ever bring that man around again, then don't bother ever coming back through that front door. I don't want to see your face, and I don't want to talk to you ever again."

Y/n stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen. The harsh, toxic words hung heavy in the air, echoing off the walls.

For years, Y/n would have cried. She would have begged for her mother's understanding, apologized, and tried to fix things. But as she stood there looking at her mother—at the ugly, controlling glare that had dictated her entire life—something inside Y/n quietly snapped into place.

The fear completely evaporated. The desire for her mother's approval died right then and there.

Y/n wiped a stray tear from her cheek, straightened her posture, and looked her mother dead in the eye.

"Fine," Y/n said, her voice completely quiet, steady, and cold as ice.

She didn't wait for a reply. Y/n turned on her heel, walked down the hallway, and shut the front door behind her for the very last time.

She got in her car and before she even reached the end of the block, she tapped the steering wheel controls to call Ferran. He picked up after a single ring.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" Ferran’s voice came through instantly, tight with concern. It was obvious he had been sitting with his phone glued to his hand, waiting for her call. "How did it go? What did she say?"

Y/n sighed deeply, hitting the speakerphone button. "It went... terribly, Ferran. To be completely honest."

Silence hung on the other end of the line for a long second before Y/n heard him let out a heavy, ragged exhale. "Shit..." he muttered, his voice raw with guilt. "Y/n, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't been there, or if I had gotten dressed faster, or if we had just... God, I feel sick. I shouldn't have left, I should have stood there and talked to her."

"Ferran, no, listen to me," Y/n said, her tone firm yet soft. "It is not your fault. Please stop blaming yourself."

"Yes it is, Y/n! She just threatened to cut you off because I'm back in your life," Ferran said, frustrated and consumed by guilt. "I wanted to bring peace back into your life, not cause all this drama with your own family."

"Ferran, you don't understand," Y/n interrupted, pulling up to a red light and closing her eyes for a moment. "My mom has always been like this. This isn't the first time she's pulled a massive stunt just because she lost control. She did the exact same thing with my major, with my friends, with everything. The second I make my own choices and she can't dictate them, she pulls these toxic games. She'll come around eventually once she realizes her ultimatum isn't working. She's going to accept it sooner or later."

"Are you sure about that?" Ferran asked quietly, the hesitation still clear in his voice. "I don't want you losing your family because of me."

"She'll come around. And if she doesn't? That's her loss, not mine," Y/n said with complete certainty, a strange wave of peace washing over her. "I'm choosing my own happiness this time, Ferran. And that's you. I'm driving back to the apartment now, okay? Will you come visit me tomorrow?"

"Of course," Ferran answered immediately, and Y/n could practically hear the tension melting off his shoulders through the phone.

“Okay," Y/n whispered, feeling a massive wave of relief wash over her. "See you tomorrow, Ferran."

And he kept his word. The moment his intense training session wrapped up the next afternoon and he showered, Ferran got straight into his car. No distractions, no stops. For two straight hours, he drove down the highway toward her, music playing softly in the background, his mind completely consumed by thoughts of her and how heavy yesterday had been with her mother.

Around four in the afternoon, a familiar, rhythmic knock sounded at Y/n's apartment door.

When Y/n pulled the door open, her breath caught in her throat. Ferran was standing in the hallway, wearing a comfortable black hoodie and sweatpants. In one hand, he held a massive, stunning bouquet of her fresh flowers, and in the other, a large paper bag overflowing with her favorite snacks and chocolates.

The second their eyes met, Ferran let the bags drop onto the entryway table. Without saying a single word, he stepped inside, kicked the door shut with his foot, and pulled her tightly into his arms, lifting her off her feet.

Y/n buried her face in the crook of his neck instantly, breathing in his familiar, warm scent of fresh shower gel and expensive cologne. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. Ferran held her pinned against him, his hands resting on her back where he rubbed slow, comforting circles. He pressed a stream of soft, lingering kisses against her temple, her cheek, and her forehead.

"I missed you," he whispered deeply, his voice warm and grounding.

"I missed you too," Y/n murmured against his skin, feeling the absolute last bits of tension from yesterday's fight with her mother completely melt out of her body.

Ferran set her down gently, but he didn't let her go. He picked up the roses and walked her into the kitchen, his hand tightly laced with hers. While Y/n grabbed a vase and filled it with water, Ferran moved up right behind her. He wrapped his arms securely around her waist, resting his chin comfortably on her shoulder. Every few seconds, he pressed another sweet, clingy kiss to her neck, making her giggle every time.

"You're making it really hard to put these flowers in water," Y/n laughed, tilting her head to give him more room.

"That's the point," Ferran grinned against her skin.

Unpacking the groceries turned into an overly clingy affair. Ferran had practically bought out half the market. Together, they decided to cook a fresh pasta dinner from scratch.

Cooking was anything but efficient. Ferran refused to stand more than an inch away from her. While Y/n stirred the sauce in the pan, he stood pressed against her back, helping her chop garlic and tomatoes while his hands constantly slid over hers. Every now and then, he'd spin her around for a slow, deep kiss that lasted so long the pasta almost boiled over.

"Ferran, the sauce is burning!" Y/n laughed, breathless as she pulled her lips away from his.

"Let it burn," he muttered with a dark glint in his eyes, leaning in to tip one more quick kiss onto her nose. But with a grin, he turned the flame down anyway.

Once the food was ready and they finished their plates at the kitchen island, Ferran cleared everything away without letting Y/n lift a single dish. He poured two glasses of wine and brought her over to the living room couch.

And before they even knew what was happening, Y/n was sprawled out on the couch, legs thrown wide open like an offering, giving him full access to her dripping pussy. Ferran was on his knees between her thighs, his tongue buried deep inside her, devouring her like a man starving. He was eating her soul out, fucking her with his mouth, his lips sucking on her swollen clit while his nose bumped against her sensitive inner walls.

Y/n was in pure heaven, her head thrown back, eyes rolled back as waves of pleasure crashed over her. "Oh god! Ferran!" she screamed, her fingers gripping his hair tight, pulling him closer. "Right there! Don't stop! You're so good at this!"

She was soaking wet, her juices flowing freely, coating his face and dripping down her legs. She loved the feeling of his tongue inside her, the way he tasted her.

Ferran pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his face glistening with her slick. He looked up at her with a hungry gaze, his eyes dark with lust. "Does your mom still have the spare keys?”

Y/n laughed breathlessly, her chest heaving as she spread her legs wider, inviting him back in. "No," she said, her voice trembling with pleasure. "I took the keys away from her. don't worry, she won't walk in on us again."

Ferran grinned, diving back in, his tongue plunging deep into her pussy, making her scream in ecstasy. "I love it when you're this wet," he murmured against her.

Y/n arched her back, her body stiffening as she came hard, her juices gushing all over his face. "Yes! Yes! Oh Ferran!” she cried out, her legs shaking uncontrollably.

After spending a long, active, intimate afternoon together on the couch, wrapped up in the warmth of the blanket, Y/n shifted slightly. She rested her head back against Ferran's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart while he idly ran his fingers through her hair.

"Pedri is really happy that we're back together, by the way," Ferran murmured into the quiet room, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he traced gentle patterns over her knuckles.

Y/n tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes widening slightly. "Really? You talked to him about us?"

"Of course I did," Ferran nodded, leaning down to tip a sweet kiss onto her cheek. "He was so relieved when I told him. He actually said we need to do a double date soon with him and his girlfriend."

"I'd actually really love that," Y/n smiled, her heart warming at the thought. "It’s been way too long since I’ve seen Pedri."

"Consider it planned," Ferran whispered, tightening his arms around her waist as they sank back into the pillows, completely content to just exist in each other's space for the rest of the evening.

A few days passed, Ferran was making the two-hour drive to see her every single chance he got between his daily training sessions at Barcelona. They were just trying to live normally—grabbing iced coffees at small cafes, walking through the park.

Even though Y/n kept telling him that she was fine and that her mother always acted like this, the quiet reality of the situation weighed heavily on Ferran’s chest.

Every time they were sitting together and he caught her staring blankly at her phone, or whenever he noticed the slight flicker of sadness in her eyes when family came up in conversation, a sharp knot of guilt twisted deep in his gut. He hated it. He hated knowing that he was the reason her world had been flipped upside down and that she was separated from her own family.

For three days, Ferran tried to let it go, but the guilt only grew worse. So, without telling Y/n a single word, he decided he had to try and fix it himself.

The next afternoon, right after finishing his morning training session in Barcelona, Ferran didn't drive back to his own place. Instead, he took the highway straight to her childhood home.

He parked his car along the curb down the street, staring at the front porch through the windshield for a long, heavy moment. His palms were sweating against the leather of the steering wheel. Taking a slow, deep breath to steady his racing heart, he got out of the car, walked up the driveway, and stepped onto the porch.

He hesitated for a second before raising his hand and knocking three times on the front door.

A few agonizingly long seconds passed before the sound of footsteps echoed from inside. The heavy wooden door swung open—but it wasn't Y/n's mother standing on the threshold.

It was Eric.

Y/n’s younger brother stood right in front of him, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The exact moment Eric realized who was standing on his porch, his face instantly hardened into a bitter, icy glare.

The air between them turned freezing cold in an instant.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Eric snapped, his voice dangerously low and sharp. Hostility radiated off him in thick waves. "You've got a lot of nerve coming to this house, Ferran."

Ferran swallowed every ounce of his pride. He kept his posture completely relaxed, keeping his hands open and clearly visible at his sides so he didn't look threatening.

"Eric... hey," Ferran began softly, his voice tight. "I know I'm probably the last person on this planet you want to see right now. But please... just give me five minutes to talk."

"Five minutes?" Eric scoffed, letting out a harsh, humorless laugh as he shook his head in utter disbelief.

Eric grabbed the edge of the door, moving to slam it shut right in his face.

"Eric, wait! Please!" Ferran pleaded, instinctively taking a step forward and placing his palm flat against the wood to hold the door open.

Eric’s eyes flared with instant rage at the touch. "Get your hand off the door."

"Hit me," Ferran said quietly, looking Eric dead in the eye.

Eric froze, his jaw clenching tight. "What?"

"Hit me back," Ferran repeated, his voice raw, completely devoid of any ego or attitude. "Punish me. Yell at me. Do whatever you need to do to get even for what I did to you back then."

Eric stared at him, his chest heaving slightly as he searched Ferran’s face for any sign of arrogance or fake sincerity. But there was none.

Ferran took a small step back, standing vulnerable on the porch steps.

"I'm not here to fight anyone," Ferran whispered, his dark eyes filled with absolute desperation. "I just want to talk to your mom and try to fix this for Y/n. Please, man. Just help me make this right for your sister."

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