holli 🫶🏼

⋆˙⟡♡ “You won’t believe who’s here tonight,” one of the girls said as they huddled in the one spot backstage where you could see the crowd without being seen, peeking through the heavy stage curtains.

You chuckled at the sight of everyone crowding desperately in that one spot. You shook your head, turning your attention back to the mirror, adjusting the white, bluntly cut bob wig that you were wearing, making sure you looked presentable. 

You didn’t understand why everyone seemed so intrigued in who tonight’s guests were. After all those years working at the Somni Lounge, you’ve gotten used to having VIPs and celebrities in your crowd. You were way past the fangirling stage of your career here.

“Madre mia, is that Patri Guijarro?” One of the girls gushed. “Her face is so much prettier in person.”

You paused as soon as you heard the familiar name, turning once more to look at everyone crowding, peeking through. From where you were getting ready, you really couldn’t see much through the small opening of the curtains. 

Someone hummed in agreement. “Those shoulders, uh, meow.”

“Is it just the Barça girls,” someone asked, “or is it the whole Spanish team?”

“Just the Barcelona girls,” someone else responded.

Huh, that’s why they’re all so intrigued, you thought as soon as they confirmed who it was. They weren’t your usual clientele. 

Your co-worker Sol, whose vanity was right beside yours, noticed your reaction change upon learning who it was. “Oh, if Nana finds out that you were in the same establishment as the Barça girls, she would freak out.” She said, bringing up your little sister.

You sighed. “If I’m lucky, she’ll never find out,” you said with a head shake. This part of your life was something you worked so hard to keep from your sister. To her, you were just a barista and waitress.

Sol sighed. “How is Aina by the way?” She asked as she continued to fix her lashes.

You nodded. “Oh, Nana’s good, still obsessed with football. She’s starting to play better but she’s mad at her coach for assigning her a defensive position,” you chuckled, remembering your little sister’s rant. “She wants to be a midfielder like her idol Aitana.”

Sol chuckled before pausing to look at you earnestly through the mirror. “You’re doing a great job at raising her, chiqui.” She smiled. “Even if you’re purposely withholding from her that you’ll be meeting her idols tonight.”

“Well, I don’t think I’d like her to find out that her idols are visiting a strip club,” you scoffed.

Another co-worker Adriana overheard your conversation as she was returning to the make-up area, coming from the crowd at the curtains, and corrected you, tone jestful. “Don’t you mean premium cabaret?”

“Girl, please, you can add ‘premium cabaret entertainer’ to your CV but everyone knows you just mean stripper,” Sol responded jokingly. You all laughed. 

“So, what are those girls doing here anyway?” You asked, genuinely curious. An all-female crowd was rare enough; a crowd of only female celebrities were another thing entirely.

Adriana plopped onto the empty folding chair beside you, looking at herself in the mirror as she readjusted her wig, tucking in any of her stray hair back into her wig cap. “Bachelorette party,” she answered. “I heard that the younger girls from the team organized this to surprise their captain who’s getting married.”

“Oh, Alexia?” Sol asked, raising her eyebrows. “I didn’t know she was getting married. I thought she broke up with her last girlfriend.” 

“No, Irene Paredes, the tall one.” Adriana responded. “It’s a nice change on our part. We get to dance for these hot women instead of the usual old men.”

You chuckled and nodded. “Amen to that.”

Another one of your co-workers pranced on to join you three, moving closer to the mirror to check her teeth for any lipstick marks. “YN, Nana is going to be so jealous of you if she finds out that you’re meeting her favorite team.” She said, looking at you through the mirror. “If only we weren’t working, then we could ask them for an autograph or something.”

You nodded and sighed. As much as you hid your job title from the world, you were at least thankful for your co-workers, who were all sweet girls and who all cared about your little sister. 

“Is Aitana here too? She’s Nana’s favorite.” You asked.

She shook her head in response. “Nah, but Alexia’s there.”

You hummed. “Which one is Alexia again?”

The other girls laughed. “Aina is gonna be so mad if she heard you ask that,” Sol tutted her tongue.

“I work a million hours a week,” you said. “I don’t exactly have the time to memorize all of these footballers she watches.”

Adriana nudged you. “Don’t worry. You’ll notice which one Alexia is,” she wiggled her eyebrows at you. “She’s exactly your type.”

“I highly doubt that,” you responded. “Cause my type wouldn’t go to a strip club.”

Everyone chuckled, shaking their heads at you. 

Just moments later, your stage coordinator started calling everyone over for the opening number of the show. You all got up hastily, calmly getting into formation. You adjusted your tights for one last time before settling into your starting pose, ready for when the curtains would rise. 

When you first started working at Somni Lounge, you almost always had mini panic attacks before the show itself. You were always a performer, having been classically trained when you were younger. You were used to performing for a crowd. But it was just different here.

You weren’t just performing; you were seducing.

With your childhood ballet recitals, everyone was focused on the artistry, the dance and the choreography. Here, while the artistry was still present, it always came second because your crowd was always focused on your body and their own carnal desires.

Your goal wasn’t just to entertain them but to arouse them, to satiate their needs.

It freaked you out a lot when you were just starting. You were barely 20 then, wearing costumes that were practically nothing, performing in front of mostly old, sleazy men. Sure, the clientele here was more high-end and elite than your generic strip club, but having more money didn’t exactly mean your clients were less lustful or creepy. It also didn’t make Somni less of a strip club.

At the end of the day, you were there to make men horny. The thought of it alone used to linger and fester in your mind but at some point, all the anxieties and the self-consciousness fizzled into nothing. After all, at the end of the day, it was just a job.

And god, did you need this job.

⋆˙⟡♡“I cannot believe I let you guys rope me into this,” Irene tutted her tongue as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

Alexia laughed and shrugged. “I didn’t exactly plan this either. I just pitched in some cash to the bachelorette fund and trusted the kids to plan it.”

Irene exhaled through her nose, eyes drifting around the cabaret. The place gleamed with its deep red velvet seats with gold accents – the type that looked understated instead of gauche and tacky – and dark marble floors. It did seem a bit theatrical in a sense, but not totally kitschy; it still looked elevated. 

Irene sighed. “At least  this one has floors that aren't sticky.”

“True.” Alexia laughed, shaking her head. “But really, had I known this was their plan, I would have taken over.”

“You should have,” Irene sighed. “This is not my scene.”

Alexia chuckled, leaning back into her seat. “Well, let’s just get through this.”

Suddenly, the lights dimmed, conversation dissolving into anticipation as music rolled through the room. The curtain began to lift.

Alexia was never really the type to attend these types of shows. She’d been in a relationship for years, and even before that, places like these never really were her thing. The idea of sitting in a dark room watching strangers strip and dance in pasties just didn’t do anything for her. 

So, when she’d found out the team had arranged this for Irene, she’d resigned herself to just playing along, smiling through it. Besides, it’s been a while since the team blew off some steam together. It would be good for them to have some fun.

⋆˙⟡♡ The first number started minutes after everyone settled into their seats and had their first round of drinks. 

As soon as the opening performance started, Alexia felt herself completely engaged. The dancers emerged one-by-one, wearing identical wigs and matching make-up. Their glossy, latex bodysuits caught the light as they moved through the stage. They moved in a straight line, bodies moving with intent. Alexia thought she was getting the typical pole dance and vulgar strip dance choreography but this wasn’t that… at all. The choreography was controlled and elegant, more artistic than she expected.

Without realizing it, Alexia leaned forward in her seat.

All of the dancers were amazing, moving in perfect sync, but there was one dancer that Alexia couldn’t look away from. There was nothing immediately obvious to set her apart; she had the same latex body suit, same bluntly cut wig, and same bold makeup. 

But her body moved differently, as if she was one with the music. Her body flirted with the rhythm and each step just flowed naturally with the next. Her expressions were so alive and vivid, eyes bright as they swept the room, making sure to give each person a moment that made it feel like she was dancing just for them.

Then, briefly, her eyes landed on Alexia’s.

Her lips curved into a small smile that widened a beat later, teeth flashing briefly under the lights, practically sparkling. Alexia felt her heart skip a beat, breath catching. If someone was paying close attention to Alexia, they would probably notice how her pupils dilated, practically doubling in size, absolutely taken in by the scene unfolding before her

Before she could even process the opening number, it ended, lights dimming once again and dancers scurrying out. She finally exhaled, realizing she had been holding her breath since you two locked eyes. She blinked, a bit embarrassed that she got that into it.

She looked around, trying to see if any of her teammates noticed, only to meet Patri’s playful smirk, eyebrows raised and a teasing glint in her eyes. “Let’s just get through this, huh?” She teased, using Alexia’s own words against her. 

Alexia scoffed and rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. “You’re telling me that wasn’t good?”

“Sure,” Patri shrugged. “But I wasn’t as smitten as you were.”

Alexia chuckled, rolling her eyes at Patri, but unable to deny it.

⋆˙⟡♡ Your second performance was a solo.

You stood backstage as the costume settled onto your body — crisp white button-up that was so tight that it could practically pop, short black skirt, and some black-rimmed, prop glasses. You took one breath before stepping into the dark stage, baring yourself for the dance.

This number was the perfect mix of camp and seduction. You were meant to be a business lady in a makeshift office set-up. Projections of stock market graphs flickered behind you, showing stocks in the green as you started, sauntering seductively across the stage, looking through the prop papers on the table. Then, the projections would start the stocks plummeting, supposedly sending you into a panic. 

At your cue, you scattered the paper into the air as you spun around in the swivel chair, putting both your hands on your head as you rolled it around, acting in distress. After that, you got up, kicking the swivel chair to the side before sprawling your body on top of the table, letting the remaining paper on it fall onto the floor as you did.

You’d been doing this routine for a year. Every beat practically lived in your muscles. Normally, you could perform it flawlessly in your sleep.  But tonight, your focus just kept slipping.

You could feel her gaze again, as intense as they were a while ago. During the first number, you thought it was just nerves that made you think she was staring at you like this. That perhaps it was just your imagination amplified by stage lights and the adrenaline that came with your dance.  But even now, with the light dimmer and softer, it was undeniable.

It wasn’t that you weren’t used to people staring at you during shows; that was practically part of the job description. But it felt completely different now because instead of the usual random dude, it was this impossibly beautiful woman with her gorgeously piercing eyes.

You got off the desk swiftly, trying hard not to let her gaze get to you. You walked around to the front of the desk before graciously spinning, presenting your back to the crowd, bending over the desk with practiced fluidity, moving as sensually as you can. The room erupted with cheers and whistles, making you smile a bit, feeling validated that you were doing a good job. You breathed before you got off the table again, spinning around to face the crowd once again.

Your confidence was shaken up a bit once more, seeing those same hazel eyes fixed on you, but you tried to keep your gaze trained on the bride-to-be, Irene. 

Perform for the bride, you repeated to yourself. This is her bachelorette.

You bit your lip seductively as you kept your eyes fixated on the tall blonde. You began unbuttoning your top slowly and deliberately, hips swaying with the music. After the first hip pop to the side, you parted your lips, rounding your mouth, simulating the look of pleasure. Irene grimaced, visibly tensing as she looked away, unable to keep eye contact with you.

And with that, you suddenly let your attention go back to the girl beside her, the one with the intense gaze. She was still staring at you, expression unreadable. You gulped, trying not to let it get to you. It was hard not to overthink when you weren’t sure what to make of the way she looked at you.

Was she judging you? Was she drawn to you? Impressed? Disgusted? You couldn’t tell. You took a deep breath. 

Might as well lean into it, you thought. I’ll give her something to stare at.

You let your hands drag slowly down your torso, palms flat, unhurried, keeping the distress on your face while the stock projections kept tanking behind you. The crowd was already loud. You let them get louder. Your thumbs hooked into the waistband of your skirt and you eased it down your legs, slow enough to be deliberate, stepping out of it and tossing it offstage without looking where it landed.

Now, you were exposed, just wearing your heels and the lingerie that barely covered anything. You stood tall and let them look, feeling your confidence grow, knowing that the crowd was loving what they were seeing.

Your hips started to move again: a slow roll that built as you sank down into a squat, hands trailing up your own thighs on the way back up. The crowd noise swelled and you rode it, turning, bending forward over the table with your weight on your palms.

The music shifted, softening toward its end. It was your signal to get into your final pose.

And so, you climbed onto the desk and lowered yourself across it slowly, arching your back as you continued to trail your hands on your body. You turned your head to the side, and your eyes found hers in the crowd once again.

You held it a beat longer than necessary. You flashed her one last smile before the lights cut and the curtain dropped. The crowd erupted in cheers.

You exhaled, quickly slid off the table, and walked offstage, pleased with your performance.

Sol met you with a grin as you rushed to the changing area, quickly taking off your current lingerie. “I haven’t seen you dance like that in a while,” she commented. “You looked amazing.”

You smiled, hurriedly taking off your lingerie to get into your next costume. Your hands still shook, buzzing from performance adrenaline. “That’s the kind of energy I can only give a crowd of women.” 

“Oh, they loved it,” Adriana said, nodding, as she grabbed her pair of heels set up by the rows of steel racks. “Well, I know for certain that at least one of them did.”

“She was staring so hard at YN that even I felt flustered when I saw it,” Sol commented, helping you clasp the sparkly, pearl-crusted bra for your next performance. 

Your eyes widened as you looked at them. “You noticed too? She was staring, right? The girl beside Irene.”

Adriana snorted, adjusting her own bra. “Don’t act like you don’t know Alexia.”

“Oh,” you said, blinking. “Alexia… Alexia Putellas?”

The girls nodded in unison. You hummed, realizing that that was her. You probably weren’t able to process that it was her while you were performing. But you should have known who she was, especially given that your sister Aina had begged you last Christmas to buy a kit with Alexia’s name on it. 

Maybe I should be paying more attention whenever Nana watches football, you thought to yourself.

“Her gaze was kind of intense… but she really is kind of cute.” You said, admitting to finding her attractive.

Sol chuckled. “Kind of? She’s gorgeous. If I were a lesbian, I’d have ran off the stage and given her a show she could never forget about.” She nodded. “Especially with how she was staring. Ugh, babe, you should’ve jumped her.”

“Please, I’m not even sure she liked my performance,” you shook your head. “She was just… staring. Who knows? She might have been horrified.”

“Please, she didn’t look horrified,” Adriana said. “If anything, she looked like she was trying to memorize your buttcheek.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, trying not to let it get to you too much. This was just a job and you were just a stripper. A client staring at you like that shouldn’t be anything to blush about and yet…

You shook your thoughts away, trying to focus on getting ready for your next performance.

⋆˙⟡♡ The last number was a full ensemble piece.

You stood in the wings with the rest of the girls, masks secured over the top half of your faces — sleek, black-lacquered ones with gold trim that curled up at the edges like something out of a Venetian parade. They covered your eyes, your nose, the bridge of your cheeks, leaving your mouth completely bare and painted deep red. You were all wearing matching corsets with short, structured skirts and long, silk gloves. 

Compared to your other performances, this was way campier and theatrical. This was one of your favorite numbers because it focused more on the dance aspect rather than the seduction aspect; it was one of the few numbers when you actually had fun.

The dance was a mix of the traditional can-can with a modern twist. With half of your face covered with a mask, you had to animate your expressions even more, which honestly made the dance enjoyable for you. 

As you performed, you tried to focus more on the rhythm of the music and on your moves. You kept your chin up, gaze trained just over the heads of the audience the way you always did when you needed to stay in your body and out of your head

But even from your peripheral vision, you could feel her eyes on you from the same position she was in; you practically memorized her location without meaning to. Even if you weren’t looking at her, you were hyperaware of her movements: the way she laughed at the comedic parts of the choreography, the way she would lean over to Patri beside her, whisper something, making the other girl laugh. 

You were so aware of her that it was deeply inconvenient given that you were currently in the middle of a performance. It was even more odd, given that you were never like this with anyone. For the past few years, in this job, you were always laser-focused on just nailing the moves. 

Focus, you told yourself firmly. You are a professional and she is a client. 

You snapped back into the number, hitting the final sequence with everything you had, pouring the nervous energy directly into the performance. By the time the lights cut and the curtain dropped, your heart was hammering and not entirely from dancing.

⋆˙⟡♡ The applause was still rolling when your co-worker Adriana stepped out in front of the curtain with a cordless mic and her most theatrical smile, chandelier light catching the sequins on her bodysuit. Along with the rest of the girls, you were hurriedly getting out of your costumes. 

You changed into a sleek black bodysuit, simple and fitted compared to the more elaborate costumes from the earlier numbers, paired with a new mask that was simpler and was just enough to hide your identity up close. 

"Ladies," Adriana said with a projected voice, echoing into the backstage area. "On a regular night at Somni, our girls are on that stage and you are in those seats, and that is where the evening ends." She paused, letting the anticipation settle. "But tonight is not a regular night."

The Barcelona girls cheered and whistled.

"Tonight, since we are performing for our nation’s pride," Adriana gestured broadly toward them. "We offer something a little more personal." She smiled. "Tonight, for our bachelorette party…. we have lap dances!”

The team erupted. As soon as you were all made-up, everyone waited by the wings, taking a peek of the crowd. You could catch a glimpse of the bachelorette Irene, shaking her head, with her head in her palm as the other girls practically forced her to be on stage.

"Let’s welcome our bride-to-be on the stage! Irene Paredes,” Adriana said, welcoming Irene to the stage, her teammates clapping and hollering excitedly.

Irene lifted her head, expression caught somewhere between amusement and genuine distress. She held up her hand and reached for the mic. 

"I adore all the girls, such amazing performers… really," she said, "but my future wife is going to kill me if I get a lap dance, so… maybe, all my co-captains can go in my place, instead?"

The team cheered. Adriana pointed the mic toward Patri, who had both hands already raised in surrender. "I have a girlfriend," Patri said simply, refusing with huge hand gestures, shaking her head, staying planted in her seat.

Adriana pivoted smoothly to Marta who everyone else was pointing to, seated right beside Caroline Graham Hansen. Marta tilted her head consideringly, then looked sideways. "I'll do it if Caro does it too."

All eyes went to Caro, who was already shaking her head with much fervor. "No, no, absolutely not."

Everyone reacted in disappointment until everyone turned to Alexia who looked caught. Soon, all the other girls started chanting. "Capi-ta-na. Capi-ta-na. Capi-ta-na."

You heard it from backstage and felt something in you tense up. You looked at your co-workers. You were all prepared to dance for more of the girls but now, it seemed like only Alexia was up for a lap dance. The other girls giggled, looking at you pointedly which just made you feel more nervous.

Looks like I’m doing this alone, you thought.

You turned your attention back. Alexia was laughing, shaking her head, the particular expression of someone who knew they had already lost and was deciding how to accept it gracefully. She looked at Irene, who gave her a cheerful, unhelpful shrug. She looked at Patri, who gestured as if to say this is completely out of my hands. Alexia looked over to Marta who was at the far end of the room, already shaking her head with Caro mimicking the same action.

Alexia exhaled, realizing that she was the only captain of the team left who didn’t have to worry about a girlfriend or partner getting mad about a lap dance. 

"Fine," she acquiesced, and the crowd lost its mind.

Adriana grinned and lifted the mic again. "Now hold on," she said, drawing it out with practiced showmanship. "For our nation’s capitana, I'm not sending just any of our girls out here." She turned back toward the curtain, expression conspiratorial. "I know someone who really, really wants to give Alexia Putellas a lap dance. Someone who is really going to put on a show for La Reina."

The Barcelona girls wolf-whistled and cheered, excited to see the girl who was so eager to give their captain a lap dance.

“Let’s give it up for… Rubi!” 

You barely even processed Adriana calling you by your stage name when everyone backstage began pushing you further towards the stage. You frowned and glared at them. “Oh my god, calm down. I’m going,” you groaned at the girls who were just giggling at you.

Adriana rushed back on stage, stopping just right in front of you. “You owe me,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

"I fucking hate you,” you said, feeling the nerves build inside you. “I didn’t ask you for this.”

She chuckled. “Keep pretending, sweetheart. We know you want to anyway.” Adriana rolled her eyes. “Enjoy.”

⋆˙⟡♡ Soon, the lights dimmed and the red lights covered the room in a deep crimson. The song that rolled in was unhurried and heavy. It had a steady tempo with a slow burn of a bass. In Somni, the lap dances were often not choreographed so you didn’t know what song to expect but this one felt just right. It was the perfect amount of sultry and intimate.

You took one slow breath backstage, rolling your shoulders, shaking out your hands. You closed your eyes, calming yourself, before stepping from out of the wings, meeting the immediate and generous wave of noise and cheering. Just like that, all your nerves dissipated. You let it settle around you, smirking at everyone. 

You were used to lap dances, even if they weren't a regular thing at Somni. Pilar reserved them for special occasions and private reservations mostly — bachelor parties, birthdays, the nights a VIP booking came with specific requests attached. It wasn't like you were doing this every shift. But when Pilar did assign them, your name came up more often than not.

You had your theories about why Pilar kept picking you. Maybe it was your dance background. Perhaps it showed in the way you controlled your body or maybe it was that you just had more energy and endurance that by the end of the night, you could still deliver another performance while most of the other girls were just too knackered. 

Or maybe it was for humanitarian reasons. She knew the situation with your sister and considering that the girls doing the lap dances got a bonus, she was assigning it to you, knowing you’d be willing to do it for more money. 

Whatever the reason, you were just glad the clients never seemed to notice that you weren't really present for any of it. That the smile was just something you put on or the eye contact was something practiced and mechanical. You figured you must have put on a good enough show for them to not realize that while you were grinding on their laps, you were thinking about what groceries you needed to buy or how you were going to budget your salary for the next week.

But tonight, it was different. You were certain that you weren’t going to be thinking about groceries tonight. Not when she was the one on that chair.

Alexia turned her head to catch a glimpse of you. Her smile faltered, just briefly, like she hadn't quite expected you specifically, walking toward her in the low red light. You gave her a small smile, winking as you walked towards her slowly, legs crossing over each other with your heels clicking against the hard floor.

The smile found its way back to her face as you moved closer. Her eyes moved over you unhurriedly, and the lazy confidence of it made your heart slam against your ribs in a way that you hoped absolutely did not show on your face.

You circled her first, taking your time. This was the part of a lap dance that most people didn't expect; they usually expected you to just start grinding on them. But it was better to build up the anticipation, to keep them waiting. It was a sort of foreplay. 

You let your fingertips trail across her shoulders barely even touching her, just close enough that she'd feel the proximity. You heard a quiet exhale from her that she probably didn't intend to be audible. In contrast, the Barcelona crowd was incredibly audible, shouting and whistling nonstop. 

You tuned them out the way you tuned out everything when you were working. But right now, you were also grateful for the dark red lights because they were able to hide the slight tremble in your hands.

Pull yourself together, you thought to yourself. It was not usual for you to be affected by your clients but then again, this was the first time you were actually attracted to your client. 

You came around to face Alexia, moving down slowly onto her lap just until you were just barely hovering above her, hands bracing on the armrests on either side of her hips, bringing your face level with hers. The space between you was small and up close, she was so much more than she had been from across the room. The red light did something extraordinary to her features, sharpening the line of her jaw, catching in her eyes, and you had a half-second of clarity in which you recognized that this was genuinely one of the most beautiful people you had ever been this close to, which was an observation that was neither helpful given the circumstances. 

You kept your movements fluid and unhurried, working with the rhythm of the music, rolling through each beat. Your body moved over hers without direct contact, watching her lick her lips unconsciously in anticipation. 

Then, deliberately, you reached down and guided her hands off the armrests. You placed them at your waist and covered them with your own. You smiled as you felt her fingers press against your waist. You began to roll your hips, guiding her hands with yours, letting her hands trail up your own sides and back down.

Alexia’s gaze never left yours and the line of her jaw had tightened. Her composed stillness from a moment ago was working a lot harder now and you could see it in the set of her shoulders.

You smirked before abruptly turning, now facing the crowd, giving them a flashy grin. You placed Alexia’s hands back onto your waist, feeling them settle there with a less restrained grip. You placed your hands on the arms of the chair, using them to support you as you lowered yourself slowly onto her lap. You moved against her slowly and deliberately, grinding slowly against her, making sure that you were firm and flush against her as you did.

Her grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer without you prompting it and the crowd must have noticed because they lost their composure, cheering even louder. Your eyes widened and you nearly yelped as Alexia pulled you towards her, causing your weight to fully be on top of her. Her chest pressed firmly against your back as she leaned in, lips brushing against your ear.

"You really, really wanted to give me a lap dance, huh?" Her voice was low and quiet but definitely teasing. You can tell by the tone of her voice that she definitely seemed too pleased with herself.

The corner of your mouth twitched but you stayed composed. You stood once more, facing her again before leaning in, just an inch away from her ear. “Don’t flatter yourself, superstar.”

You felt rather than heard the low laugh in her chest, the vibration of it pressed against you. You pulled away and stood in one smooth motion, turning to face her again. You decided to take her by surprise, strongly planting your hands on both of her legs, parting it abruptly, garnering you a collective noise from the crowd. And, of course, you didn’t miss the way Alexia’s expression flickered: the way her throat moved as she swallowed.

There it is.

"Keep those there," you said, holding her gaze. "Okay, superstar?"

You didn't wait for an answer. You turned and moved toward the crowd, putting your back to them, hips dropping into a slow rolling gyration that made the room erupt. You gave them a few beats of it before sinking down to the floor with an unhurried ease.

You lowered yourself onto your back, still facing Alexia, propping up on your elbows so your chest angled upward. As you settled into it, you found Alexia's eyes immediately. You gave her a slow smirk. Then you raised your legs — straight and crossed over each other — and began moving your legs into a traditional clockwork move. Alexia’s eyes were fixated on your legs, as if hypnotized by the fluid movements. You smirked, legs sweeping in circles in a controlled rotation, tracing the air above you in a precise and deliberate motion before meeting back at the top. On the next beat, you let your legs fall open into a wide split, holding it just long enough for Alexia’s eyes to widen and for the room to react, before swiftly snapping them back shut, heels connecting with a satisfying clack at the top, the sound punctuating the beat of the song.

The crowd cheered in amusement but you barely paid attention to them. Your attention had already locked into Alexia.

You rolled onto your hands and knees, letting the movement flow into the next count as you seductively crawled back towards her. She was still sitting exactly how you had left her, knees apart, hands gripping the arms of the chair like she had decided it was safer than touching you. The sight sent a sharp little thrill through you. There was nothing more that could boost your confident than a girl coming undone just by looking at you. 

You took your time crossing the space between you, slow enough to make her watch every inch of it. Her eyes flickered all over your body, following the line of your back, the sway of your hips, the way you moved like you knew exactly what she was looking at at any given moment.

When you reached her, you placed your hands on either side of her thighs and lifted your gaze to hers. You leaned your head closer to in between her legs, sticking your tongue out and tracing the air just above her. You moved it in a line, starting low then dragging it in a path upward from in between her legs, past her stomach, and towards chest. You never touched her. You only came close enough for her to feel the warmth of your mouth, leaving it all to her imagination.

This time, there was no teasing smirk or comment from Alexia. She just looked at you with her mouth slightly parted, eyes dark beneath the red light, and hands gripping the arms of the chair. You smirked.

You straightened up, striking one last strong pose as the final beat of the song landed. The crowd cheered loudly and you gave them a small, cheeky bow before walking back towards the curtain, without looking back at Alexia.

You didn’t need to; you could feel her eyes on you the entire way out. 

⋆˙⟡♡ You woke up with a groan, scrubbing the sleep from your eyes as the alarm clock blared mercilessly. It was too loud, too early; it was certainly enough to sour your mood before you were even fully conscious. 

You sat up, sighing deeply as you turned the alarm off, feeling your calves and feet ache from the night before. No matter how many nights you performed in heels, it never made the morning-after muscle pain any less annoying.

You turned your head and found your sister Aina beside you, completely unconscious, sprawled diagonally across more than her fair share of the bed. You must have been so tired last night that you didn’t even notice that she had snuck into your room late into the night.

Even if Aina was already seven, she still looked impossibly young to you. It didn’t help that she was tinier than most girls her age. 

People often thought that Aina was your daughter given the huge age gap between the two of you; they often assumed you must have had her when you were young. At first, it bothered you, the way they filled in your story without asking. But over time, you stopped correcting them. It was easier that way and, honestly, it was less unusual than trying to explain how two sisters could be separated by more than a decade.

When Aina was born, she came as a pleasant surprise to everyone in your life. She was born when you were already a teenager and your parents were almost in their 40s. You had pretty much accepted your life as an only child by then, which was why you were so pumped to hear the news that you were getting a baby sister. 

Even as a baby, Aina was always so sweet and well-behaved. She’d always been an angel but that didn’t mean that raising her was a walk-in-the-park. It was still a lot to handle. 

You were left with the responsibility of being Aina’s sole legal guardian when you were in college, just a teenager and barely an adult. The car accident happened on a random Tuesday night. You could still remember answering the phone to the news that your parents had passed, struck by a drunk driver. The next few days felt like a whirlwind. 

There was no one else to take care of you and your sister.  Your maternal aunt was living in France with her own family. There were no living aunts or uncles on your father’s side. Both sets of grandparents were already gone. 

It had just been the four of you for as long as you could remember, and then it was just the two of you, and you had gone from being a teenager with a half-finished art degree and a vague idea of your future to being the legal guardian of a three-year-old.

Your parents were careful people. They'd left the apartment in both your names, and there was money set aside for Aina's schooling through secondary, which was more than a lot of people had and you knew that. But schooling money didn't cover utilities, groceries, health insurance, the football kit Aina had asked for three birthdays in a row or the school trip deposit that came due at the worst possible time every single year.

So, you had to work and work and work. You started doing a bunch of retail and waitressing gigs. You stacked jobs on top of each other until your prospect of an art career became a distant memory and you had to drop out of college. The only artistic thing you did now were the repetitive coffee flowers you made each morning at your barista job.

Even if you were exhausted and drained, it was doable. You just had to manage your time well and take loads of vitamins just so you wouldn’t have to ever be sick and miss a day of work. Unfortunately, just as you were getting used to the flow of it all, the restaurant where you served as a hostess shut down. It was your biggest source of income so with it gone, you were going to suffer a massive financial loss.

That’s where Somni came in.

An old friend of a friend worked in Somni but had quit after she got engaged. Apparently, she needed someone to replace her — someone pretty, with a dance background. Your friend mentioned it, thinking about how you mentioned that you did ballet and jazz as a kid. She knew you were at your lowest, stretching every check, barely making ends meet, and even considering dipping into Aina’s school fund. She said you might as well give it a shot, quit if you ended up not liking it.

At first, you felt ashamed that stripping had become an option. But it felt worse seeing your sister as the only girl on her football team with worn-down shoes, or the only student carrying an old, ratty backpack. You wanted to give Aina a better life. In the end, that meant you didn’t really have a choice.

Your job as a stripper paid decently, way better than any job you had and the hours were better. It meant you could live semi-comfortable lives and that you could drop all your other jobs you were juggling. Now, you were just working at Somni and at the cafe near your apartment. Although, Aina thought you only worked at the cafe as a barista in the morning and as a waitress at night. It took a lot of effort covering up the truth, especially as she had grown up and started asking more questions.

Thankfully, your best friend helped a lot with it. You met Rocío at your first job at the coffee shop after your parents died. She was in a similar situation. She ran away from home as a teenager, wanting more independence, barely able to afford it. You two had bonded a lot over your experiences so much so that when you heard that she needed a new place to stay, you offered her a place in your apartment in exchange for some help with utility bills and taking care of Aina whenever you worked at Somni. At some point, it started to feel like Rocío had become like your sister too.

You looked over to Aina who was still fast asleep, unaware of you staring wistfully at her, reminiscing about your past. Slowly, you eased yourself out of bed, not wanting to wake Aina, and padded out into the hallway. Rocío was already in the kitchen, still in her pajamas, thick brown hair thrown into a messy bun. She stood at the stove with the posture of someone who had just woken up, placing the moka pot on it.

She turned at the sound of your footsteps and gave you a slow nod.

"Did you come home later than usual last night?" she asked. 

“Yeah, bachelorette party.” You said, heading to the refrigerator to start preparing breakfast. “And you would not believe who was there.”

The statement woke Rocío up a little. Her thick eyebrows lifted. "Bachelorette? Who?"

You opened your mouth but just as you were about to share your story, Aina came shuffling out of your bedroom, hair messy from sleep. "G'morning," she mumbled, in the direction of no one specifically.

"Good morning, Nana," you and Rocío said, almost in unison.

Aina smiled without fully opening her eyes and disappeared into the bathroom. The shower started a moment later. You looked at Rocío and sighed, deciding it was best to discuss details from your work later on, when you were far from Aina’s earshot. "I'll tell you at work.”

⋆˙⟡♡ "No fucking way," Rocío said, staring at you. The cloth she'd been using to wipe down the counter had stopped moving entirely. "Alexia. Alexia Putellas."

"Yes, Alexia Putellas," you confirmed, mimicking the emphasis she put on the last name.

"You’re telling me that you gave Alexia Putellas a lap dance." Rocío set the cloth down. She seemed to need a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. “How are you so calm about this right now?”

You laughed, leaning against the counter. “I’m not calm. I’m just tired.” You said, with a shrug. “But honestly, at that moment, I guess it was just the adrenaline powering me through. I don’t know how I got through that lap dance alone. We all planned to do a group lap dance for the bride and maybe her other teammates but it just turned out to be me and her. It was…”

“Hot.” Rocío said, nodding.

You laughed. “No, I mean… well, yeah but more so crazy,” you said, stumbling on your words. “Like, I don’t think I ever expected that to happen. We were only told that it was going to be a VIP bachelorette so I really had no way of knowing beforehand that it’d be the Barcelona team.”

“Oh, so, was Aitana there too?” Rocío asked. “Nana would kill you if she finds out that you met her idol and you didn’t get her a signature.”

"No, she wasn't." You shook your head. "And even if she had been… when exactly was I supposed to ask for an autograph? In the middle of the lap dance? That would have been very professional."

Rocío laughed. "I'm just saying. Nana loves Alexia too. You could have at least tried to get something." Rocío shrugged, helping you out with the clean-up. “But I swear, I feel like if you had asked her for a signature during the lap dance, I am sure that she’d give it to you. Heck, if you asked for her number, I’m pretty sure she’d give that too.”

You frowned and rolled your eyes. “Be for real,” You said with a deadpan tone. "Besides, even if I'd wanted to, it wouldn't have been appropriate. They were there as clients."

"Yeah, and she was a client who was very clearly into you and checking you out during your dance," Rocío said pointedly, recalling the details of your story. "And I've heard she just went through a breakup recently, so…"

You gave your best friend a flat look. “I’m a stripper, Rocío. Of course, she was checking me out. That doesn’t mean she wants to date me.” You explained. “I’m not sure I wanna date her anyway. I’m not into girls who go to strip clubs.”

“Please, it was for a bachelorette. It’s not like she was there just to perv out randomly. You can surely understand the nuance of that,” Rocío said, wiping the work table even if it was already spotless, clearly too distracted by your story to do anything else. “Plus, she is totally your type.”

“My type? How would you know my type?” You scoffed. “I’ve been single for ages. I don’t even know if I have a type.”

“Tall, gorgeous, hard-working, a good person… is that not your type?" Rocío prodded. “Rich too.”

“Yeah, sure, but I don’t think we can say she’s a good person just because of her public persona. You know how celebrities are,” you corrected. “Also, being rich doesn’t matter that much to me. Most rich people are actual assholes.”

Rocío hummed before turning to you, giving you a cheeky grin. “You didn’t deny that she’s gorgeous though.” 

You paused before chuckling in partial defeat. "That," you said, "I can't deny."

⋆˙⟡♡ Dress rehearsals were your favorite kinds of shift at Somni.

There was no crowd or clients; it was always just you and the girls trying out new costumes, choreographies, looks. Usually, it didn’t require the full energy typically needed for an actual performance night. The best part was you still got paid for it. Sure, there weren’t any tips but you didn’t mind that much. If every shift could be a dress rehearsal, you would have no complaints about this job whatsoever.

You were sitting in your dressing chair, surrounded by the hair and makeup team who were experimenting with a new look for your solo number at the lounge's anniversary event next month. It gave you an excuse to sit still and scroll through your phone while your coffee went lukewarm beside you.

"Who are you stalking?" Sol appeared beside you without warning, peeking between two members of the makeup crew, craning her neck to look at your screen.

Instinctively, you tilted the screen away from her. “Nobody.” You said, looking at her with an innocent look.

"Hmm. Because if I saw correctly, that looked a lot like Alexia Putellas' Instagram account to me." Sol chuckled, dropping into the seat beside you, pulling her long hair into a tight bun so the wig cap would sit flat.

"I was just looking," you said with a small shrug. "I was curious."

“Sure, yeah, curious,” Sol said, tone teasing. She gave you a playful look as she accepted the wig one of the crew handed her and let them settle it into place. "She must have really left an impression on you last night."

The girl doing your eye make-up paused and looked at you. “Wait, you guys met Alexia Putellas?”

You pressed a finger to your lip, as if to gesture that it was a secret. "Her team was here last night. Bachelorette party." You answered in a low voice. 

“Yeah, and my good friend here…” Sol trailed off as if building anticipation. “Gave her a lapdance.”

The hair and make-up team looked amused and shocked and you just rolled your eyes. “Guys, it’s a strip club. Why are you all acting so shocked? What else do you think we do here?”

"Was she as good-looking in person?" the makeup girl asked, resuming her work. "I'm a Madridista but even I can admit that Alexia—"

“She was okay,” you responded curtly with a shrug.

Sol rolled her eyes. 

“What?” You said.

“She was okay? Yeah, says the girl who had a lady boner while giving her a lap dance.” Sol retorted.

You frowned at Sol. “Excuse me, I think I did pretty well,” you retorted, feeling a bit defensive. 

“I’m not saying you sucked,” Sol corrected. “I’m saying you danced a little too well.”

“I was just giving my all that performance,” you defended, crossing your arms. “Is it a crime to be good at my job? That doesn’t mean I like her.”

“Well, Rubi,” your hairstylist said, using your stage name. She met your eyes in the mirror with a look of calm amusement. "You've also been on her Instagram for the last twenty minutes."

You stared at her through the mirror’s reflection with a shocked expression. Sol bursted out laughing.

“God, the betrayal,” you said flatly.

“You can never hide anything from a hair stylist,” Sol joked, garnering a high-five from your hair stylist. 

You sighed, slumping slightly. "Fine. Okay, maybe I have a small crush on her." You held a hand up before Sol could open her mouth. "But it’s just that – a small crush. Don’t make it a thing."

Sol made a face that suggested she was absolutely going to make it a thing, but before she could say anything, your club manager Pilar appeared behind you in the mirror, arms crossed, studying your look with a contorted expression.

You caught her eye in the reflection. “What do you think, boss? Cute?”

Pilar frowned, touching one of your teased and curled pigtails, shaking her head. “You look like the guy from the Saw movies,” she commented before turning to the makeup crew. "I said sexy clown. Apparently you all only heard the clown part."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You understood where she was coming from; the white base they'd applied was too pale, and the blush that sat on your cheeks in two perfect circles was too off-putting. Your hair looked more deranged clown than anything too. The only part that you liked was the sparkly pink eyeshadow and the thick, animated lashes.

Pilar directed the crew, instructing them to change the white foundation to something only a shade or two lighter than your natural tone. The circles of red blush were replaced with a softer, blended-out pink. The eye look stayed thankfully. The difference was immediate and you looked way better now than you did just moments ago.

“And no more of this messy pigtail look,” Pilar said, already moving away toward Sol’s station. “Just give her a pink wig and put on a ton of body shimmer. Then, get her under stage light and see how it reads when she performs her number.”

You watched in the mirror as the crew hurriedly put your hair into a hairnet and placed a pink wig on your head, making adjustments until it sat exactly right. You tilted your head, studying your own reflection. 

As cliche as it seemed, it always was unsettling to you just how completely different Rubi looked from yourself. It was crazy how much make-up and a wig could completely transform you, putting distance between you as a performer and you as a person. 

But there was some comfort in putting on this costume. It kept you anonymous. It reassured you as if to say that whatever happened here stayed here. Just the way you liked it.

⋆˙⟡♡ You were in the middle of taking off your costume when the energy in the room shifted. 

It started with a few girls drifting from their stations towards the wings followed by a few more. After a while, the low chatter picked up into something more animated.  After returning your costume onto the racks, you pulled your short, black silk robe over your shoulders, the one with your stage name embroidered across the back in red thread. You knotted the belt loosely as you made your way toward the small group that gathered at the edge of the stage area.

"What's going on?" you asked.

Adriana turned to you with a smirk. "Looks like your girlfriend's paying a visit."

"My what?" You stepped past a few of the girls and looked out toward the floor. 

With the house lights fully on, it was easy to see her – tall, cap pulled low perhaps to mask her identity from potential paparazzi, leather jacket on. It was Alexia. 

"What is she doing here?" you said in a low tone, more to yourself than anyone.

"Security said she's picking up some things her teammates left behind," one of the girls answered, hearing your question. "Apparently, someone got a bit drunk and forgot their keys and stuff."

"Or…" Adriana said, elbowing you jestfully, "that's just an excuse to see you again."

You gave her a look. “You’re delusional.”

Before Adriana could respond, Pilar’s voice cut through the room. “Girls,” she announced, clapping her hands together once. "Back to your stations. We have to finish figuring out your looks so we can focus on choreography tomorrow. You're all acting like you've never seen a footballer before."

Everyone reluctantly moved back to their stations. You turned and headed back to your station. Sol was already there beside your station, wig off and halfway through removing her stage make-up with a cotton pad. Adriana stood on your other side, carefully plucking out her false lashes. 

You sat down, opting to take care of the blister that was forming on your heels over removing your wig and make up; the pain had been bothering you since a while ago. You kicked off your stilettos and examined the back of your heels.

"Your feet okay?" Sol asked, glancing at your heel.

"It's fine," you said, applying a hydrocolloid bandage on the blister. “I’m used to it.”

You were midway through applying the bandage on your other ankle when you heard footsteps and low voices approaching from the corridor. It was your head of security's voice and another beneath it, quieter. You kept your eyes on your heel, growing frustrated at the fact that your hydrocolloid bandages weren’t sticking properly.

Out of nowhere, Adriana was suddenly beside you, grabbing your arm and pulling you to your feet before you'd fully processed what was happening.

You looked at her in annoyance, noticing that her eyes were not on you, instead were set straight ahead. You followed her gaze to see Alexia passing directly by your stations, seemingly heading towards the admin room where all lost-and-found items were kept. 

Without a modicum of subtlety whatsoever, you felt one of your friends firmly push you, propelling you forward. Still barefoot, you stumbled directly into Alexia’s path, blister bandage half-stuck to your heel and silk robe gaping slightly.

Alexia stopped. She looked at you, then at Adriana and Sol behind you, whose expressions were the picture of feigned innocence. The corner of her mouth pulled upward into a sly smirk, realizing the situation.

She looked at you carefully, noticing the contrast between you and your co-workers, how you were still fully wigged and made-up while the others were already practically undone. “Do you stay in costume even when there’s no one watching?” She asked with a tone of amusement, taking in the sight of your wig and the costume lingerie underneath your robe.

“Dress rehearsal,” you said, pulling your robe closed, feeling faintly embarrassed. "I just finished my part. We run everything in full costume so it reads properly under the stage lights."

You weren't sure why you were explaining it so thoroughly, as if she didn't know what a dress rehearsal was. Perhaps it was the adrenaline from practically getting propelled in her direction by your friends.

She nodded slowly then her eyes moved over your face slowly. "I recognize you," she said, fully smiling now. "You're the one who gave me a lap dance.”

Your friends didn’t do a good job concealing their giggling behind you. You rolled your eyes. God, you’d think we’re teenage girls and not actual strippers, you thought to yourself.

“Uh, yeah, that was me,” you nodded, giving her a shy smile. “Thank you, by the way, for the tip that you and your team left. It was very generous.”

After the night, the team left a considerable tip. It wasn’t an extravagant or performative amount; it felt like a genuine token of appreciation. It was certainly more than what a typical bachelor party would ever think to leave. Split between all the girls, it hadn't changed anyone's life but it wasn’t exactly pennies. At least, it had made the night feel worthwhile.

“It was well-deserved,” Alexia said simply, eyes dropping briefly to your robe then to your bare feet, noticing the half-applied bandage that was practically hanging off of your ankle. “Maybe we should have left more so you could get better bandages.”

You blushed lightly at the joke, consciously hiding your ankle behind the other one. You laughed, adjusting your wig as you did. You were thankful that you still had the wig and makeup on. The anonymity helped you from feeling completely vulnerable in front of her.

“Hey,” Adriana stepped forward, noticing that you had gone silent. “By the way, Alexia, this one has a little sister who is absolutely obsessed with you. Any chance you'd sign something for her?"

You turned to Adriana, reprimanding her with your eyes before turning back to Alexia. "That's really not… it's fine, it's not necessary—"

"It's not necessary?" Alexia said, with a look of mild amusement. "What's not necessary is me walking past when apparently your sister is a big fan and not doing anything about it." She looked at you. "Do you have something I can sign?"

You looked around your station. Sol and Adriana immediately began rummaging through the general clutter before Adriana pulled the receipt from beneath your coffee morning, slightly soft at the edges from sitting underneath your cup for the better part of the night.

Alexia looked amused as she was handed it.

“It’s all we have,” you explained, nodding.

She laughed, taking it carefully between two fingers. "It's falling apart."

You shrugged meekly. 

"Okay then." She accepted the pen Sol produced from somewhere and looked back at you. "What's your sister's name?"

You hesitated, just briefly. Something in you was instinctively cautious about handing over even something that small about your personal life.

"Nana," Sol said, filling the silence without missing a beat. Deep inside, you seethed a bit, not liking that Sol was giving your sister’s name away to a client. 

Alexia nodded and bent over the counter, writing carefully on the damp receipt. She wrote a short note before signing it. She straightened up and examined it for a moment, holding it by ‘the corner as though uncertain it would survive the transfer. "I hope this gets to her in one piece.”

“She’ll love it,” you said, giving her a small smile, looking at the receipt. “She really will.”

Alexia smiled. “Uh, if you want,” she started. “I could drop off one of my kits, sign it properly. That’d be more durable than a damp receipt.”

You chuckled, carefully placing the paper on your station. “No, that really isn't necessary.” You shook your head.

“No, no, come on, just think of it as a gift of gratitude. You made Irene’s bachelorette truly memorable," she said with a smile before lowering her voice, quieter so that the other girls wouldn’t hear. “Also… I’ve just been looking for an excuse to return.”

"Oh," you said, caught off guard. "Thank you."

"Yeah," she said simply, holding your gaze, eyes flickering to look at your body for a half-second. It was barely noticeable but it was enough to make you feel flustered.

Your head of security appeared behind her. "Miss Putellas, I think we identified all the stuff left behind by your party. Maybe you would want to double-check?"

Alexia nodded, then looked back at you one last time. "I'll see you soon, then."

Before you could respond, Adriana popped up at your shoulder. "She'll see you!"

Alexia laughed before walking off.

What the fuck just happened?

⋆˙⟡♡ The night ended earlier than usual. Even after cleaning up and scrubbing off all the make-up and body glitter in the club’s shower, you still reached your apartment at a more godly hour. 

As you stepped in, you could see Aina’s attention turn from her iPad to the front door. An instant smile plastered across your sister’s face as soon as she saw you. “YN!” She shouted excitedly, running off to give you a welcoming hug. “I missed you so much.”

You pouted and felt your heart warm at the interaction. Between your work at the cafe and your shift at Somni, you usually barely had any free time to spend with your sister. By the time she got home from school, you were already getting ready to go to work at Somni, and by the time you got home, she was usually fast asleep. You tried really hard to make time for important events – important football games, school performances, holidays – but honestly, to you, it never felt enough.

You hugged her warmly, sniffing the familiar scent of her shampoo. “Nana, have you eaten?” You asked.

“Yeah, I warmed up the meal you prepared for us,” Rocío said, smiling at you from the coach. “Shift at the restaurant ended early?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” you responded, keeping your answer short so as to not raise suspicion about your ‘work at the restaurant.’

Aina and you settled at the coach after you had set aside your coat and bag. “Nana, I actually met someone at the restaurant tonight,” you said, giving your sister a smile. “I didn’t have anything else on me at the time but I think you’d still appreciate it.”

Your sister tilted her head. “What? Who did you meet?” She said, not understanding what you were saying without context.

You giggled, pulling the carefully folded paper from your pocket. “I really wish I had a better piece of paper or a shirt or whatever but this was all I had,” you re-explained, handing her the receipt.

Aina took it, not understanding at first but as soon as it registered, her eyes widened and she gasped. “Alexia? You met Alexia?” She exclaimed. “Oh my god, YN, did you take a selfie? Please tell me you took a selfie with her, please.”

Rocío looked over at the paper before looking at you and raising her eyebrow. You ignored her, looking back at Aina. “Well, she was kinda in a rush so I was only able to ask her for her signature,” you excused. 

Aina immediately rushed towards you, wrapping her arms around you once more. “This is so cool, YN,” she gushed. “Thank you so, so much.”

You chuckled, patting her back. “Be careful with it. The paper is kinda flimsy; you wouldn’t wanna rip it.”

Aina pulled away, nodding in agreement. “I’m gonna go to my room and put it in one of my frames,” she said before running off to her room.

You smiled warmly, happy to see your sister excited like that. As soon as Aina was in her room, you turned to Rocío who was already looking at you suspiciously. “Alexia was at the restaurant again tonight, huh?”

You widened your eyes and raised your eyebrows, lips pressed into a thin line, nodding. 

Rocío shook her head and chuckled in disbelief. “Did she get another lap dance?” She asked, voice low. 

You shook your head. “No, she was just returning because her teammates forgot their keys or whatever.” 

Rocío rolled her eyes. “Please, that’s such a flimsy excuse,” she said, voice still hushed, just in case Aina came back any time soon. “I’m willing to bet all of my life savings that she just came back to see you.”

“That’d be, what, 12 euros?” You joked.

Your best friend rolled her eyes. “Shut up. You know I have a point.”

You paused, debating whether or not to mention to your best friend what Alexia had said. Rocío immediately noticed your demeanor, widening her eyes, scooching closer to you on the coach. “What? I know that look,” she prodded.

Carefully, you looked over to Aina’s room, making sure she wasn’t going to suddenly pop out. “Well,” you started, eyes returning to meet Rocío’s expectant gaze. “Where do I even start?”

“Hurry, before Aina returns.” Rocío said, gesturing for you to just spill the news.

You nodded before quietly recounting the details of the night to Rocío, checking constantly to make sure that Aina wasn’t suddenly going to pop out of her room and overhear that one of the women she looked up to was frequenting the strip club her sister performed in. That was certainly too difficult to explain had she overheard. 

“And really quietly, she said that she was also just looking for an excuse to return,” you said, finishing off your story.

“Girl,” Rocío grabbed your hands excitedly and practically began bouncing on the couch. “Oh my god. Oh my god. OH MY GOD!”

You chuckled. “Shh,” you reprimanded her. “I mean, I don’t want to think anything of it but at the time, I definitely was blushing a bit. I mean, it really was flattering… but whatever, it’s nothing. It’s silly.”

Rocío groaned. “Why do you do that, YN?”

“Do what?” You asked with a deadpan expression.

“Always undermine your feelings,” she responded. “You know, you’re allowed to feel giddy about a hot footballer being interested in you. It’s not a crime. You don’t have to act like it’s not a big deal.”

You shook your head. “I mean, it’s nothing. It’s just a client liking what I have to offer which is… a fantasy, a sexual fantasy,” you cleared up. “She isn’t really interested in me. She’s interested in my performance. Probably has something to do with her break-up.”

You paused, recalling the news you read about her recent break-up, before continuing. “You know divorced guys are like a huge demographic of our crowd,” you added. “We’re just something to distract them from their heartbreak. It really is nothing.”

“God, you’re such a bummer.” Rocío looked at you, scrunching up her nose. “You know, next time you see her, try not being so guarded. Try to be warmer.”

You scoffed. “Why? For what reason?”

“Girl, just do it for yourself!” Rocío exclaimed, a bit louder than intended. She paused, lowering her voice again. “I mean, you work endlessly and you barely have any time to date anyway. Why not use this as an opportunity to just bring some excitement in your life? It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just… have fun.”

You sighed, nodding. She had a point. You had been so highstrung for so long and you needed something to take the edge off. You weren’t a smoker and you were way too busy to go out and drink. Maybe getting a thrill from having this small crush on your hot, professional footballer client might be the thing you needed to loosen up a bit.

⋆˙⟡♡ On stage, it was easier for you to put on this persona of Rubi, who could seduce everyone so easily and was just constantly oozing with confidence. 

But off the stage, you weren’t anything like that. You were mostly quiet; you kept to yourself. You spent most of your free time hanging out with Aina – watching her football games, taking her to the museum, watching whatever cartoon she was interested in. And when Aina was busy, you mostly just stayed in the house, cleaned, and slept. You liked it that way.

Or maybe, you just convinced yourself that you did.

Secretly, a part of you did feel a pang of jealousy whenever you saw couples on dates in the cafe or even when you watched romance movies. You hadn’t dated anyone in ages. Aside from the fact that you had no time, you just worried that you wouldn’t meet anyone who was simultaneously okay with you being a stripper and who was a good enough person for you to want to introduce your sister to. Those two things seemed like impossible traits for any person to have.

Even when you initially rolled your eyes at your best friend, you knew she was right. You needed a little excitement in your life. Hell, you deserved just a little treat of it.

And a gorgeous footballer with a face chiseled by god was the best thing a girl could treat herself to.

So, you internalized Rocio’s advice and decided that the next time you crossed paths with Alexia, you told yourself, you would be different.  You would be the girl who just let herself flirt, the one who would enjoy the attention. The one who allowed herself to indulge in a little harmless crush.

The next time you see Alexia, you would be more relaxed and confident, a lot more like the version of yourself that existed under the lights, the one who knew exactly how to hold a room. You wanted to make sure that the next time she saw you, you weren’t barefoot with a bandage hanging onto your foot.

You’d be less YN, and more Rubi.

⋆˙⟡♡ Alexia hadn't exactly given an exact date when she'd said she'd come back, but the vague promise of it gave you something to look forward to in a way you hadn't expected. 

Each night, before a show, you would peer out the curtains, trying to find her.  Even if you hadn’t seen her in your initial scan, you still gave your all, performing with a renewed energy and a little anticipation, just in case she happened to be in the crowd that night. 

Thankfully, it didn't take long. Just a few days after her last visit, Alexia was back. 

You weren’t actually able to spot her until your signature solo number. As you were bending over the table, almost towards the end of your performance, your eyes somehow drifted to the side of.

She was there, baseball cap pulled low, dressed down in just a plain shirt and loose pants, tucked in the corner of the room. This time, there were no teammates around her; it was just her, sitting alone in the middle of your regular crowd, obviously looking like someone who didn't want to be recognized. 

You smiled as her eyes met yours. Her lips curled into a smirk and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

⋆˙⟡♡ After the show, you sat at your station with your wig still on and your stage makeup still intact. You didn’t take off the black latex bodysuit from the closing performance, which probably caught the attention of Sol who was now looking at you quizzically.

“You good?” She asked. “Normally, you’re the first to get out of the costume and into the shower.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to not make it obvious that you had been watching the entrance to the back stage, waiting for Alexia to be accompanied by Miguel.

A few days ago, you'd quietly briefed Miguel — the head of security — letting him know that Alexia might be coming back. You asked him to signal you if she was there and to usher her backstage, if he could. He had looked at you for a long moment with a weirded out look, as if you were delusional, but he had just agreed, not making a joke about your obvious crush on a client even though he really wanted to tease you about it.

“I, uh,” you stumbled upon your words. “Just… wanted to keep it on, for now.” 

Sol widened her eyes, pointing a finger at you. “She’s here, isn’t she?”

Before you could respond, you saw Miguel from the entrance to the backstage, waving over at you before nodding his head once. You tensed a bit. Calm down, You said. Enjoy it. Just have fun. 

Sol giggled and you gave her a wide eyed look and a shake of the head to reprimand her. She smiled but obliged and continued to pretend to be focused on wiping off her make-up. 

Alexia came through the backstage door with her cap still on, a paper bag in one hand, looking around the room once just to be sure. She pulled the hat off as the door closed behind her, ran a hand through her hair once to fix it. After scanning the room once more, her eyes found yours.

Around you, your work friends were doing an extremely poor job of not staring. You tried not to let it get to you, telling yourself for the nth time to just savour this moment. It was rare that a pretty girl was coming backstage to your job. Actually, not just rare. It never happened before.

She crossed the room toward you and held out the paper bag. "As promised."

You smiled at her, tilting your head in curiosity. “What’s this?”

She raised her eyebrow. “Do you get so many gifts from your clients that you’ve forgotten about what I said?”

You rolled your eyes but felt a flush grow on your cheek. Alexia seemed pleased at your reaction. “Just look inside.”

You peered inside and folded carefully in the bag was a signed armband and a Barça kit with her name and number on the back. Across her number was a signature. You’ve been looking forward to simply seeing her again that you had forgotten that she mentioned that she wanted to bring something for your sister.

"Alexia, thank you so much." You said as you looked at it again. "My sister is going to absolutely lose her mind over this."

"Good," Alexia said simply, with a small smile. “There’s, uh, better bandages there too. For your feet.”

You felt touched at the gesture; she didn’t just remember to give a gift to your sister, she also got you something thoughtful as well. You bit your lip, looking back at her. "Gosh, wow, how can I thank you for this?”

She shook her head, the corner of her mouth pulling up. "Seeing you on stage again was enough.” She said with a playful lilt in her voice. “You did great.”

You held her gaze, feeling the warmth in your chest that you were trying very hard to keep off your face. A part of you found the gesture incredibly touching and sweet. You loved your sister a lot, wanted to give her everything she wanted, and this was certainly something that would have brought more than a smile on her face.

If Nana reacted to the soggy receipt like that, you thought. I cannot imagine how she’d react to this.

On the other hand, on the more practical side, letting a client of yours at the strip club know a crucial part of your life felt a bit… too much. Sure, it was just one small fact – that you had a little sister named Nana who loved football – but even that felt like too much to reveal to a client. 

Even if Alexia Putellas was this gorgeous woman who seemed great, and who you definitely wanted to keep coming to watch you, you didn’t really want to give off too much of yourself. You didn’t mind her seeing you naked, bare in front of her. But your personal life… that felt too intimate. You were just glad that she seemed to not remember Aina’s name. 

"Anyway," she said, breaking your train of thought, glancing around the room. "I don't want to intrude further since everyone is clearly getting ready to go homel. So, I should go—"

You widened your eyes, setting aside your apprehensions. I barely meet anyone I’m interested in these days, you thought to yourself. I’m not letting this just slip by.

"No, wait," you said, reaching out and touching her arm. She paused, looking at you with quiet interest. 

You bit your lip and blurted out the first thing you thought of. "Let me give you a tour. The crowd's gone and the floor's being cleaned up. Maybe you just want to see what the place looks like?”

Alexia looked at you for a moment, something pleased moved through her expression. Truthfully, Alexia had no interest in touring a strip club but she found it endearing that you were finding a way to get her to stay longer.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "If it's no trouble."

"None at all," you said, setting the paper bag carefully on your station. “Come. I’ll show you around.”

You guided Alexia away from your dressing area. From the corner of your eye, as you were walking towards the side of the room, Sol and Adriana were watching you with matching expressions of barely restrained delight. You shot them a look as if to tell them to play it cool. 

But that was too much to ask of your work friends, who were already giggling to themselves.

⋆˙⟡♡ You led Alexia through the door on the far side of the dressing area that opened out onto the main floor which now fully lit and being slowly worked over by the cleaning crew. Without the low lighting and the crowd filling every seat, the place looked different. It looked mostly the same but more ordinary; more like a regular performance venue rather than an actual strip club.

"You already know this side," you said, gesturing out toward the floor. 

"I do," Alexia said, nodding while looking around with unhurried curiosity. 

"It looks better now than when I first started here, actually." You walked slowly alongside her toward the bar. "It was a bit darker back then and way tackier. My old manager had a thing for neon.”

Alexia hummed, feigning interest in the interior. “Hmm, then this must be an improvement.”

You nodded, awkwardly. You bit your lip, feeling the awkwardness grow inside you. You hyped yourself up for Alexia’s return. You wanted to have fun, explore this sexier side of you beyond performance. 

But now, you were awkwardly touring her around the place like a museum guide or whatever. 

Just like that, you got an idea.

“Anyway, this shit’s pretty boring, sorry,” you apologized. “But I do know a place here you’d find interesting.”

Alexia raised her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Come,” you said, reaching for her hand which she gave without hesitation. “Let’s make this tour more interesting.”

⋆˙⟡♡ The private show rooms were tucked in the corner of Somni, just before the dressing room entrance. It was pretty much defunct now. Your club manager Pilar found that the private show rooms gave Somni a less premium feel, and made it feel more like your typical, grimy strip club. 

There was an issue of safety too; it was no surprise that the privacy made clients more bold. After the third night in a row where a client got too handsy with a dancer, Pilar closed the operations of the private show rooms permanently, deciding that they were more of a liability than an asset. 

These days, these rooms were mostly just used as extra dressing areas and storage for old costumes and props.

Racks and racks of costumes lined the walls now but the room itself hasn't changed much since it was shut down. The dim light revealed the low stage that ran along the far wall and a single chair positioned in front of the stage center unmoved since then. A pole rose from the middle of the stage, floor to ceiling, catching the faint light.

You looked around, struggling to find the other light switches. As you did, Alexia looked around with quiet amusement, taking in the circus-themed private room, looking up at the roof which was painted to look like the ceiling of a circus tent. "This room’s cute. Is this a dressing room?”

Finally, you found the switches which illuminated the small line of bulbed lights on the stage and the scenic red lights of the room, bathing both of you in a soft red hue. 

Alexia chuckled, amused. “That’s one way to answer,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Certainly looks less like a dressing room now.”

You smiled, ushering her further in as you closed the door behind you. “Well, it kinda is a dressing-slash-storage room now,” you answered. “But it used to be more than just that. It used to be a private room for, y’know…”

Alexia smiled at the way you trailed off, nodding. “So, you guys don’t use it anymore?”

"Too much effort and risk," you said. "It became more trouble than it was worth. Pilar figured that when we do lap dances, it should be on stage instead of here. So, now this room is mostly just where costumes and props go to retire." 

Alexia had drifted further inside, hands in her pockets, taking in the space. She moved toward the chair eventually, examining it with the expression of someone who was finding this more interesting than they expected. Then she looked at you over her shoulder. "Who was the most famous person to use this room?"

"I have no idea," you said honestly. "I've only been here a couple times before it closed." You paused. “So, I guess, in a way, you’re the most famous person to use it.”

She chuckled at the comment, shaking her head. She turned to face you fully, something settled and easy in the way she stood there then she pulled the chair back slightly and sat down, looking at you with a smirk. 

“Must have been fun though,” she said. “Seems more… intimate.”

You watched her settle into that chair and felt something shift inside you. It was the same quiet click that happened before every performance, the moment where your usual self stepped back and something more deliberate took its place.  You had built that other version of yourself carefully over the years, piece by piece, and for a long time it had been a wall or an armor as much as anything else; it was a way to move through the work without letting too much of it touch you, to perform desire without feeling too exposed by the performance itself.

But standing here now, with Alexia looking at you like that, it felt more than just a barrier between your Somni alter ego and yourself. It almost felt like permission. It was like you were giving yourself — your actual self — permission to experience the performance for yourself, to exist in this space for yourself and not just to be consumed.

You had spent years performing desire for other people. This felt like the first time you were allowing yourself to fully feel and immerse yourself in it.

You moved away from the doorframe, moving closer to Alexia.

"You know," you said, keeping your voice easy, the way she always seemed to be. “Given that you went out of your way to bring my sister a gift," you crossed the room slowly, heels clicking against the floor. "I feel like I owe you something better than just a backstage tour."

Alexia straightened slightly, noticing that your gaze and demeanor had changed, "You don't owe me anything. The kit was a gift,” she said with a nod. 

"I know," you said, stopping right in front of her and placing a hand under her chin, making her look up at you. "Which makes me want to give you something in return even more."

Alexia’s mouth parted to say something but she stumbled on her words. She gently took your hand away and shook her head. “No, no, it’s not nece—” she said, beginning to stand up.

You interrupted her by pressing a hand on her shoulder, guiding her back down on the chair. "I insist," you said with a smirk.

She went still, eyes tracking you with an expression that was very carefully composed, and you could see the effort of it — the same quality you'd noticed during the lap dance, the deliberate composure of someone choosing how much to show.

You gestured for her to stay put before walking your way to the music player, turning it on, and thanking your lucky stars that whoever used this room last had a great playlist because the first song that played was a sultry, R&B song. Something perfect for an intimate encounter such as this.

⋆˙⟡♡ You settled into the song slowly, letting it find you rather than chasing it. A breath in, a breath out, and then you turned around.

Alexia's eyes were already on you. Of course they were.

You gave her a small smirk as you got to her. You walked seductively behind her the way you had the first time, one hand trailing along the back of her seat, barely grazing her shoulders before you continued past her, unhurried, deliberate. You heard the quiet exhale she let out when you didn't stop, when you kept walking toward the stage instead of her lap.

As soon as you reached the stage, you wrapped your hand around the pole.

It had been a while since you used it. Pilar had quietly retired the pole from the Somni image sometime around the rebrand. You could not remember the last time you poledanced but thankfully, your body remembered. Your hand closed around the cool metal and something in your hips already knew what to do.

You started slow. There was no reason to rush. You let the music set the pace, moving around the pole with an ease and confidence. You moved gracefully, your body a long unhurried line as you leaned back, one leg extended, letting your upper body dip as low as you could before you pulled yourself back in one controlled and fluid movement. 

You still have it, you thought, almost with surprise. You absolutely still have it.

Then you let yourself look at her.

Alexia had shifted forward in the chair. Her feet were apart, elbows on her knees, and she was watching you with an expression that made something low in your stomach pull tight. Her eyes looked darker under the dim light of the room. Right now, what you were seeing was not the distracted, slightly performative yet guarded appreciation she'd had the first time, in the club with her friends around her. 

This was different. She was focused and intent in a way that felt almost uncomfortably sincere, like she wasn't just watching the performance but savouring it, committing every single motion to memory.

If she's going to watch, you thought, give her something to watch.

You hooked your knee around the pole and let yourself spin. You spun slowly  at first before you tightened your grip and brought both your legs up, lifting yourself higher up the pole, thighs closing around the metal as you inverted in one clean motion, the room turning upside down for a moment, letting the momentum from a while ago spin the pole on its own. After a couple of satisfactory spins, you lifted your torso, hands gripping on the pole as you slid back down in a controlled descent, letting go of the pole after your feet found the floor again. You heard Alexia's breath catch from across the room.

When you finally stepped off the stage and crossed toward her, you watched Alexia sit up slightly, straightening her posture, as if she was trying to prepare for what was about to come. She looked up at you, eyes unsure where to look as they flickered across your face and body. You smiled at her, settling onto her lap, and this time there was nothing tentative about it.

You let her feel your weight, your flesh fully. While the first lap dance had been a performance that felt precise and calibrated, this was more than just that. You weren’t just doing this for an audience. Hell, you weren’t even just doing it for Alexia. You were doing this for you, to experience the intimacy you never wanted to admit that you craved all these years.

You moved against her with the music, slower than you needed to be, and you felt her hands come to your hips. Her touch didn’t feel demanding; it just felt present, settling there with a firm, steady pressure, like she was grounding herself as much as keeping you in place. You rolled your hips down into her lap and heard her exhale sharply through her nose.

You kept your hands on her shoulders, legs on either side of her now, with no arms on the chair hindering you from fully grinding against her. Alexia’s breathing was now heavy as she felt the friction against her, the weight and heat of your body against hers.

You moved against her again, deeper this time, and a sound escaped your own throat before you could stop it and you tipped your head back without thinking, not caring about the wig, not caring about much of anything. You were so deeply entrenched in the moment that you had not noticed that the wig fell off, your hair revealing itself in soft curls from the bun it was in.

When you brought your head back down and met her eyes, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied and a bit proud of yourself. Alexia’s pupils were blown wide and she looked completely undone, breathing heavy and unsteady.

You went still for a moment, just sharing that moment, eyes locked with each other. You looked at her properly. The clean line of her jaw, the way the low light caught the angles of her face and made her look even more beautiful. And her mouth — god, her lips, which you had been pointedly not thinking about for longer than you were willing to admit.

Alexia finally made the first move, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of your hair back behind your ear. A small smile flickered on her face, hand still lingering around your face. Before you knew it, she was taking your face, guiding it until your lips were on hers.

The kiss started out with some hesitation. You felt it was mostly on your part. There was just something so disarming about how soft her lips were, how gentle it seemed. You paused, lips still touching, as if you were still deciding whether or not to continue.

But Alexia seemed to have decided for you. Her hand found the back of your neck, pulling you closer as you continued moving against her, lips locking as you grinded your hips slowly. Her lips parted slightly and she dragged her lips across the bottom in a way that made you grip her face a little harder than you meant to, fingers pressing into her jaw. 

The kiss deepened and at some point, Alexia’s hands found its way to your ass, gripping tightly as she pressed your body against hers, guiding your thrusts and gyrations against her. A groan slipping out from her lips to yours as she did.

You had absolutely no idea how long it went on. The song that was playing when you kissed her was not the song that was playing when you finally pulled back, desperate for air.

Her eyes fluttered open, scanning your face as it did. Her thumbs were still moving against your hips in small, absent circles.

She swallowed, eyes now fixed wuth yours again. "What's your name?"

“Rubi," you responded automatically.

She looked at you. Her expression didn't change, but something in it shifted. "No," she said, voice low and soft. "I know your stage name. What's your actual name?"

It took you a moment to process the question. The way Alexia asked it just came off as so simple, and sincere. It was her trying to get to know the person in front of her, beyond just Rubi. 

The softness of it, the ease and lack of pressure in the way she asked it… it was just so disarming. Because you had almost done it. You had almost answered, and the realization of how close you'd revealed your identity, how easy it was for you to be lost in the moment startled you. It was rare that you lost control like that.

You got off her lap, running a nervous hand through your hair, realizing that the wig had fallen off at some point, revealing your actual hair. You picked up the wig off the floor, smoothing down your bodysuit right after with unsteady hands, still breathing heavily from the make-out and now from anxiety.

“Sorry,” you said it almost as a reflex, barely audible before you turned toward the stage and headed to the speakers to cut the music.

Alexia looked confused, standing up and straightening herself up as she did. "Did I say something wrong?" Alexia asked from behind you. Again, the sincerity in her voice cut through, which made you feel worse. 

You wished that she reacted negatively, got angry and frustrated for leaving her hanging. but there she just stood with a worried expression, genuine concern on her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” she said, stepping hesitantly towards you. “It’s just… I just –”

"No," you said, shaking your head, avoiding her gaze now. Not wanting her to see more of your face. "I just — I can't. I'm sorry. We should go back."

She didn't push. She just watched you with that patient, unhurried expression and said, quietly, "Okay."

You were already moving toward the door before she could say another the word, heels clicking against the floor, not running but walking fast enough to get out of there before Alexia could even make a move. You didn't look back as you did.

You had spent years keeping the line clean: Rubi on one side, yourself on the other. And yet, it felt like that line was erased by just one night, one careless decision to indulge in something you knew you shouldn’t have

The worst part of it all was how you knew, deep inside, a part of you wished you had introduced yourself, allowed yourself to enjoy intimacy beyond just that moment. Just to see if there could be more than just this.

But that privilege was not available to someone like you.

⋆˙⟡♡ next part

a/n: yayyyy posted right before the uwcl finals! this chapter is pretty long but i decided it was better to post it in its entirety because it felt like a more well-rounded first part that way.

special shout-out to @moonystoes and @muffinpink02 who helped me out by giving comments on my initial draft of the initial lap dance scene like... months ago hahah! i finally posted it <3 thank u for all the help

also yn's solo number was heavily inspired by crazy horse's "CRISIS? WHAT CRISIS?" performance. you guys can look it up for better visuals

anyway! comment or reblog to get added to the taglist so u can get notified when the next part is up.

Irene had been glowing lately, had been radiating a particular kind of happiness that was difficult to miss, that made her smile wider and her energy lighter and her whole demeanor even softer than usual, which was saying something considering how soft she'd become since Mateo had been born.

"Lucía is exhausted," Irene had been saying, her voice warm with affection despite the topic. "Mateo is going through a phase where he doesn't want to sleep. He wants to play. He wants attention. He wants mama or mami to be awake with him at two in the morning. And with the pregnancy, with being in the second trimester now, Lucía is just. So tired. All the time. Growing a human while chasing a toddler is apparently the most exhausting thing she's ever experienced."

"How far along is she now?" Alexia had asked, her accent soft with concern. "Four months? Five months?"

"Almost five," Irene had confirmed. "We're finding out the gender next week. Mateo is very excited. He keeps talking about his baby brother or sister. He's been kissing Lucía's belly. It's the sweetest thing I've ever seen. He's going to be such a good big brother."

"He's adorable," Marta had said, smiling at the thought of Irene's son. "Every time you bring him to matches he's so well behaved. So sweet. Just sitting there watching his mami play football like it's the most amazing thing he's ever seen."

"He loves football," Irene had said, her pride obvious. "He already has a little ball. Already tries to kick it. Already wants to be like mami. It's. It's everything I hoped for. Being a mother. Having this little person who looks at me like I hung the moon. It's the best thing I've ever done. Better than any trophy. Better than any title. Just. Being his mami. That's everything."

Alexia had been listening to this with a soft expression, had been thinking about what it would be like to have that, to have a child who looked at you like you were their whole world, to experience that kind of love, that kind of purpose.

"Are you nervous about having two?" Alexia had asked. "About managing two children while still playing? About the logistics of it all?"

"Terrified," Irene had admitted honestly. "Absolutely terrified. One child is hard enough. Two feels. Impossible sometimes when I think about it too much. But also. Mateo needs a sibling. We want to give him that. Want him to have someone to grow up with. Someone to play with. Someone who understands what it's like to have two mums who play professional football. So we're doing it. We're having another baby and we'll figure out the logistics as we go."

"How is Lucía handling the pregnancy this time?" Marta had asked. "Is it the same as with Mateo? Different? Easier? Harder?"

"Different," Irene had said. "With Mateo she had terrible morning sickness. This time it's been better. Less nausea. But more exhaustion. More emotional. She cries at everything. Happy things. Sad things. Commercials. Yesterday she cried because Mateo gave her a drawing he'd made. Just tears. Happy tears but still. The hormones are intense this time."

Alexia had been absorbed in this conversation, had been thinking about pregnancy and babies and what it would mean to go through that experience, to carry life inside you, to feel a baby grow, to prepare to bring a new person into the world.

She'd been so focused on Irene's words that she hadn't noticed Jay approaching, hadn't registered her girlfriend's presence until Jay had been right there beside the table, grinning widely, clearly having finished her physio session, clearly looking for Alexia like she always did.

"Are we talking about babies?" Jay had asked, not waiting for an invitation before pulling out a chair and sitting down, immediately reaching for Alexia and pulling her sideways into her lap like this was the most natural thing in the world, like sitting in separate chairs when they could be touching was simply not acceptable.

Alexia had made a small sound of surprise but had settled into Jay's lap easily, automatically, her body responding to Jay's touch with the kind of comfort that came from two years together, from countless repetitions of this exact dynamic, from knowing that being in Jay's arms was where she belonged.

"We're talking about Mateo and the new baby," Marta had explained, smiling at the way Jay immediately wrapped her arms around Alexia's waist, at how Alexia leaned back against Jay without thinking about it. "About Irene and Lucía having two children. About pregnancy. About all of that."

"How is little man doing?" Jay had asked Irene, her voice genuinely warm. "Is he excited about being a big brother? Is he understanding what's happening?"

"He's very excited," Irene had said, clearly pleased by Jay's interest. "He talks about the baby constantly. Wants to know when baby will be here. When baby can play with him. He's going to be wonderful. Very gentle. Very caring. Already so protective of Lucía's belly."

And then Jay had shifted slightly, had adjusted Alexia in her lap so she could see her face better, had gotten that particular expression that meant she was about to say something that would probably be completely inappropriate but that she was going to say anyway because filtering had never been Jay's strong suit.

"You know," Jay had said, her voice thoughtful. "If it were possible, me and Alexia would have two babies already. Maybe three. We've been together two years. That's plenty of time. We'd definitely have started a family by now if biology allowed it."

"Jay!" Alexia had said, her face immediately flushing, her accent thickening with embarrassment. "You can't…. We're not…. This is not appropriate conversation for work. We're talking about Irene's baby. Not our hypothetical children that don't exist."

"Why not?" Jay had asked, genuinely confused about why this was scandalous. "We talk about wanting kids all the time at home. We've discussed it. We both want them eventually. I'm just saying if it were biologically possible for us to make babies together, we would have already. Because I definitely wouldn't pull out, babe. I'd be all in. Literally."

"Jay!" Alexia had repeated, her voice going higher, her face going redder, clearly mortified that Jay was discussing their sex life in terms of hypothetical pregnancy in the middle of the training ground cafeteria.

"What?" Jay had said, clearly not seeing the problem, clearly thinking this was a perfectly normal thing to discuss. "It's true. It's a factual statement about our relationship and our future plans. We want kids. We've talked about it extensively. I'm just confirming that if the mechanics were different, we'd already be parents. That's not scandalous. That's just. Facts."

Marta had started laughing, had clearly found this entire exchange hilarious, had been watching Alexia's face cycle through various shades of red with obvious entertainment.

"You're always so scandalised, amor," Jay had continued, leaning in to kiss Alexia's neck, clearly enjoying her girlfriend's flustered state. "I love that about you. I love that I can still make you blush after two years together. I love that you still get embarrassed when I'm honest about how much I want you. It's adorable."

"You're impossible," Alexia had muttered, but she'd tilted her head slightly to give Jay better access to her neck, had clearly been enjoying the attention even while being embarrassed by the conversation.

"Besides," Jay had said, her lips still against Alexia's neck, speaking between soft kisses. "You'd look so hot pregnant. Like.,,,Really hot. I think about it sometimes. About you carrying our baby. About what you'd look like with that glow that pregnant women get. About your belly growing. About… All of it. And it's…. It's a very good image. Very appealing."

"You think she always looks hot," Marta had pointed out, still grinning. "You think she looks hot doing literally anything. You think she looks hot eating breakfast. You think she looks hot tying her shoes. You think she looks hot breathing. So saying you think she'd look hot pregnant is not exactly groundbreaking information."

"Well duh," Jay had said, as if this was obvious. "Have you seen her? Of course I always think she's hot. She is hot. Objectively. Scientifically. Universally acknowledged as hot. But pregnant would be…. That would be next level. That would be…. I don't even have words for how attractive that would be."

"We'd be using protection the amount you want sex anyway," Alexia had said, her voice slightly strangled, clearly trying to redirect this conversation away from Jay's detailed thoughts about her theoretical pregnancy. "So the pulling out thing is. Is irrelevant. Is not actually applicable to our situation."

"Excuse me," Jay had said, pulling back to look at Alexia with amused eyes. "This morning wasn't me. This morning was you. This morning was you waking me up at six thirty because you decided you wanted me. This morning was you climbing on top of me before I was even fully conscious. This morning was you being very clear about what you wanted and how you wanted it. So don't act like I'm the only one who wants sex constantly when you literally woke me up for it."

"Jay!" Alexia had said, clamping her hand over Jay's mouth, her face burning now, clearly mortified that Jay was sharing details about their morning activities in front of Irene and Marta. "Stop talking. Please stop talking. This is not…. We are not discussing this here. At work… In the cafeteria. Where anyone could hear."

Jay had grinned against Alexia's palm, had clearly been enjoying this, had kissed Alexia's hand before gently pulling it away from her mouth.

"Sorry, babe," Jay had said, though she didn't sound particularly sorry. "But it's the truth. You're just as insatiable as I am. Maybe more. You're just better at pretending to be scandalised by it. But I know the truth. I know exactly how much you want me. I was there this morning. I have the marks to prove it."

"Dios mío," Alexia had breathed, burying her face in her hands, clearly done with this conversation, clearly regretting every life choice that had led to her girlfriend having no filter whatsoever.

"Anyway," Jay had continued, clearly not deterred by Alexia's embarrassment. "We would have cute babies. Like…. Objectively adorable babies. With my eyes and your hair. Or your eyes and my hair. Either way. Beautiful children. Very athletic. Very talented. Probably very chaotic if they inherit my ADHD. But cute. Definitely cute."

"What about childbirth?" Alexia had asked, lifting her face from her hands, clearly trying to steer this conversation toward something more serious, something less focused on Jay's detailed fantasies about their sex life. "That's not easy. That's not fun. That's painful and difficult and scary."

"No," Jay had agreed. "But I'd be there. I'd be holding your hand. I'd be talking you through it. I'd be telling you how strong you are, how amazing you are, how you're doing so well. And you'd be squeezing my hand so hard you'd probably break bones. And you'd be blaming me for putting you in this situation. Cursing at me in Spanish. Telling me this is all my fault."

"Because it would be your fault," Alexia had said, but she was smiling now despite herself, clearly charmed by Jay's vision of this, by the way Jay had clearly thought about this in detail.

"Not my fault you're so hot," Jay had said, grinning. "Not my fault I can't resist you. Not my fault biology is what it is. All of that is beyond my control. What I can control is being the best partner possible during the whole thing. Being supportive. Being present. Being there for every moment. Every appointment. Every milestone. Every everything."

"You've thought about this a lot," Irene had observed, clearly amused by Jay's obvious enthusiasm for this hypothetical future.

"Of course I have," Jay had said. "I think about our future all the time. Think about what our life will look like in five years, ten years, twenty years. Think about kids and a house and growing old together. Think about all of it. Because I'm in this. I'm all in. This is it for me. This is forever. So yeah, I think about babies. I think about what kind of parents we'd be. I think about the family we'll build together."

Alexia had turned in Jay's lap, had shifted so she could look at Jay's face properly, had clearly been affected by this, by Jay's obvious certainty, by her complete commitment to their future.

"I love you," Alexia had said softly, her accent thick with emotion. "I love that you think about these things. I love that you want this with me. I love that you're so sure about us."

"Always," Jay had said, kissing Alexia softly. "Always sure about us. Always thinking about our future. Always wanting everything with you."

"Anyway," Jay had said, breaking the moment, clearly needing to lighten things before they got too emotional in the middle of the cafeteria. "I've got to go do some more recovery work. Got to keep this body in peak condition so I can be ready for when we do decide to have babies. Got to stay fit and strong so I can help you through pregnancy. Got to… You know…. Later. When we…. When we continue what we started this morning."

"Jay!" Alexia had said again, pushing at Jay's shoulder. "You can't…. Stop talking. Just…. Go do your recovery and stop saying inappropriate things in the cafeteria."

Jay had laughed, had stood up, had kissed Alexia properly before leaving, clearly not caring who saw, clearly done being professional for the day.

"See you later, babe," Jay had said, grinning. "Tonight. When we…. You know. Continue our ongoing discussion about the biological impossibility of our current baby making attempts."

And then she'd walked off, leaving Alexia sitting there looking mortified and fond in equal measures.

"She's not wrong though," Irene had said after a moment of silence.

"About what?" Alexia had asked, still watching Jay walk away.

"About the fact that if she could, you'd have multiple children by now," Irene had said, smiling. "She's completely gone for you. Completely committed. Completely ready for forever. That much is very obvious. The babies would already exist if biology allowed it. That's. That's actually really sweet. Really romantic. In a very Jay way."

"I know," Alexia had said, smiling despite her lingering embarrassment. "She's insane. But she's my insane. And I love her. Even when she's saying completely inappropriate things in the cafeteria about our sex life."

"She's in love," Marta had said. "And she finds you attractive. Very attractive. She's made that extremely clear over the last two years. Constantly. Repeatedly. To anyone who will listen."

"She's attractive too," Alexia had said, her voice soft.

"Yes but you let her take control," Irene had said, grinning now. "You let her be in charge. You let her make decisions. You surrender to her. That's. That's part of why she's so confident about all of this. Because you've shown her that you trust her. That you want her. That you're just as gone for her as she is for you."

"Irene," Alexia had said, her face flushing again.

"It's true," Marta had added, clearly enjoying this. "I bet you're a pillow princess. I bet Jay does all the work and you just. Lie there and enjoy it. No wonder she's so confident. No wonder she's talking about not pulling out and making babies. She knows exactly how much power she has over you."

"I'm not…” Alexia had started, but then her phone had buzzed, had interrupted her protest.

She'd pulled it out, had looked at the screen, and had immediately gone red again.

Jay: Gonna put a baby in you later 😈

Alexia had stared at the message, had felt her face burning, had been torn between exasperation and affection and the particular warmth that came from being loved by someone who was completely shameless about it.

She'd rolled her eyes, had typed back a quick response.

Alexia: That's biologically impossible and you know it

The response had been immediate.

Jay: Doesn't mean I won't try very thoroughly

Alexia had groaned, had put her phone face down on the table, had looked at Irene and Marta who were both grinning at her with obvious amusement.

"She's texting you about it now, isn't she?" Marta had asked. "She's making it worse. She's being completely inappropriate via text message."

"Yes," Alexia had admitted. "Yes she is. She's. She's talking about… About trying to…. You know…. Later…. Tonight…. She's… Dios mío. She's impossible. She's absolutely impossible."

"But you love her," Irene had said, smiling warmly.

"I do," Alexia had agreed, picking up her phone again to look at Jay's message one more time. "I really do. Even when she's being completely ridiculous. Even when she's saying things that make me want to die of embarrassment. Even when she's texting me about biologically impossible baby making attempts. I love her. So much. More than I thought I could love anyone."

"And you want babies with her," Marta had said. "Real ones. Eventually. When you're both ready."

"I do," Alexia had said quietly. "I really do. I want everything with her. Babies. A house. A life. Forever. All of it. I want all of it with Jay."

"Then you're lucky," Irene had said. "Because she clearly wants all of that with you too. She's made that very clear. Repeatedly. To everyone. Including the entire cafeteria just now. You're both very lucky. You've found your person. Your forever. That's. That's everything."

And Alexia had smiled, had felt warmth bloom in her chest, had known that Irene was right, that she was lucky, that finding Jay had been the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Even if Jay had absolutely no filter and said wildly inappropriate things in the cafeteria about wanting to put babies in her.

Even if Jay texted her ridiculous things about biologically impossible reproduction attempts.

Even if Jay made her blush constantly and scandalised her regularly and had zero shame about any of it.

Alexia was lucky.

So lucky.

And she couldn't wait to go home tonight and tell Jay exactly how much she loved her.

She lay there in the early morning light, staring at the ceiling, her heart doing that painful thing it had been doing for days now, that tight anxious squeeze that made it hard to breathe, that made her feel sick, that made her want to cry.

Because something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

Jay didn't just leave at six in the morning. Jay hated mornings. Jay would sleep until noon if Alexia let her. Jay complained dramatically about early training sessions. Jay was not a person who voluntarily left bed before sunrise.

And yet.

For two weeks now, Jay had been gone when Alexia woke up.

And it wasn't just the early mornings.

It was the phone calls.

The whispered phone calls that Jay took in other rooms, closing doors, speaking quietly, hanging up quickly when Alexia came near.

It was the receipts.

The crumpled receipts Alexia had found in Jay's pockets when doing laundry, receipts from places Alexia didn't recognise, for amounts that didn't make sense, that Jay had quickly shoved away when Alexia asked about them.

It was the way Jay came back.

Sweaty. Flushed. Looking like she'd been doing something physical, something exhausting, something that made her breathless and warm and slightly guilty looking when she walked through the door.

It was all of it.

All the suspicious behaviour. All the secrecy. All the things that added up to one terrible, impossible, devastating conclusion.

Jay was having an affair.

Alexia's stomach twisted just thinking it, just allowing the words to form properly in her mind.

An affair.

Jay was seeing someone else.

That was the only explanation that made sense. The only thing that explained the early mornings, the secret phone calls, the hidden receipts, the sweaty returns, the guilty expressions, all of it.

Jay was cheating on her.

Alexia felt tears start to build, hot and painful behind her eyes.

She'd been trying not to think it. Had been trying to find other explanations. Had been trying to convince herself she was being paranoid, being ridiculous, being unfair.

But two weeks of this had worn down her defenses, had made the evidence too overwhelming to ignore, had made the conclusion feel inevitable.

Jay was cheating.

And Alexia didn't know what to do about it.

Didn't know how to confront her. Didn't know how to ask. Didn't know how to face the possibility that this was real, that Jay was betraying her, that everything they had was falling apart.

She heard the front door open.

Jay was back.

Alexia sat up quickly, wiped at her eyes even though she hadn't actually cried yet, took a breath to steady herself.

Today.

She would confront Jay today.

She couldn't keep doing this, couldn't keep pretending everything was fine while dying inside, couldn't keep gathering evidence and building cases and convincing herself of betrayal without actually asking.

Today she would demand the truth.

Today she would make this stop.

One way or another.

Alexia had gotten out of bed, had pulled on one of Jay's hoodies without thinking about it, had walked to the kitchen where she could hear Jay moving around.

Had found her at the counter, still in workout clothes, hair damp with sweat, cheeks flushed, looking exactly like someone who'd been doing exactly what Alexia feared.

Jay had looked up when Alexia walked in, had smiled that smile that usually made Alexia's heart flip, except right now it just made her feel sick.

"Morning, babe," Jay had said, moving toward her automatically, reaching for her like she always did, like she couldn't help herself, like touching Alexia was as natural as breathing.

But Alexia had stepped back.

Had crossed her arms.

Had seen Jay's smile falter, had seen confusion cross her face, had seen her stop mid reach.

"Ale? What's wrong?"

"Where were you?" Alexia had asked, her voice coming out cold, controlled, the kind of control that came from barely holding back everything she was feeling.

"I was... I went for a run," Jay had said, still looking confused. "Like I've been doing. In the mornings. For training. Why? What's... why are you upset?"

"For two weeks," Alexia said, her accent getting thicker with emotion. "For two weeks you've been leaving at six in the morning. Every day. Without telling me. Without waking me. Just gone when I wake up. For two weeks, Jay."

"I didn't want to wake you," Jay had said, taking a step closer. "You looked peaceful. I wanted to let you sleep. I didn't think... Ale, what's going on? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"And the phone calls," Alexia continued, not answering, not letting Jay deflect. "The whispered phone calls you take in other rooms. The ones you hang up when I come near. Those phone calls. For two weeks."

Jay's face had done something complicated then. Something guilty. Something caught.

And that had been it.

That had been the confirmation Alexia had been dreading.

"Who is she?" Alexia asked, her voice breaking now, tears starting to fall despite her best efforts. "Who is she, Jay? How long has this been happening? Tell me. Please. Just tell me the truth. I can't... I can't keep doing this. I can't keep pretending I don't see it. I can't keep gathering evidence and convincing myself and dying inside. Just tell me. Please. Who is she?"

"What?!" Jay's face had gone white. "Ale, no. No. There's no... I'm not... whatever you're thinking, that's not what's happening. I swear. I promise. There's no one else. There's no affair. There's no... Ale, please, you have to believe me."

"Then what are you doing?!" Alexia had shouted now, her control breaking completely. "What are the phone calls?! What are the receipts I found in your pockets?! What are the early mornings?! What is happening that you can't tell me?! That you have to hide?! That you have to be secretive about?! If it's not an affair, then what IS it?! Tell me! Because from where I'm standing, from two weeks of watching you sneak around, it looks exactly like you're cheating! So tell me what it actually is! Tell me the truth! Now!"

Jay had stood there, had been opening and closing her mouth, clearly wanting to explain but not knowing how, clearly caught between truths.

"I can't," she'd finally said, her voice small. "I can't tell you. Not yet. Not like this. I'm not... Ale, I'm not cheating. I swear on everything. I swear on us. I'm not seeing anyone. I'm not betraying you. I'm doing something good. Something for you. Something that was supposed to be a surprise. Something romantic. I can't tell you without ruining it. Please. Please just trust me. Please believe me. I'm not cheating. I would never. You have to know that. You have to believe that."

"A surprise," Alexia had repeated flatly. "You're being secretive for a surprise. That's what you're telling me. That's your explanation."

"Yes!" Jay had said desperately. "Yes. A surprise. A romantic surprise. Something I've been working on. Something I wanted to be perfect. That's why the phone calls. That's why the receipts. That's why the early mornings. All of it. For a surprise. For you. To show you how much I love you. To prove I'm committed. To be romantic. That's all. I swear. That's everything."

"Then tell me," Alexia had said, her voice breaking completely now, tears streaming down her face. "Tell me what the surprise is. Ruin it. I don't care. I don't care about surprises. I care about us. About whether you're lying to me. About whether I'm losing you. That's what I care about. Not surprises. Just truth. Just knowing you're not... just knowing you're not doing what I think you're doing. Please, bebe. Please just tell me. I can't handle this anymore. I can't handle thinking you're with someone else. I can't handle believing you're leaving me. Please. Just tell me."

Jay had looked at her, at her tears, at her devastation, at her genuine belief that this was an affair, at her pain.

Had clearly been wrestling with something.

Had finally made a decision.

"I've been taking Catalan lessons," Jay had said quietly. "Every morning. At six AM. With a private tutor. For two weeks. I've been learning Catalan. Your language. So I can speak to you properly. So I can flirt with you in your native language. So I can tell you I love you in the words that matter most to you. That's what I've been doing. That's the big secret. That's why the early mornings and the phone calls and the receipts from the coffee shop where I meet my tutor and the language learning apps and all of it. I've been learning Catalan. For you. As a surprise. To show you I'm committed. To prove this is forever. To speak your language. That's it. That's everything. That's the affair you thought I was having. With grammar books and pronunciation guides. That's what I've been doing."

Silence.

Complete, absolute silence.

Alexia had stood there, frozen, her brain trying to process what Jay had just said, trying to reconcile two weeks of convinced betrayal with... with Catalan lessons.

"You're learning Catalan," she'd repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

"I'm learning Catalan," Jay had confirmed, looking nervous and embarrassed and hopeful all at once. "Badly. Very badly. My pronunciation is terrible. The grammar makes no sense. I've been struggling for two weeks and I can barely introduce myself. But I'm trying. I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to be able to tell you beautiful things in your language. I wanted to prove how much this means to me. How much you mean to me. I wanted... I wanted it to be romantic. I didn't realise it would look like... like I was cheating. I didn't think about how suspicious it all looked. I was just focused on learning. On getting better. On being ready to surprise you. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to think... I never wanted you to hurt like this. I'm so sorry, Ale. I'm so, so sorry."

Alexia had felt everything shift.

Everything change.

Two weeks of pain and fear and convinced betrayal suddenly transforming into... into Jay learning Catalan. Jay taking lessons at six in the morning. Jay being secretive because she wanted to surprise her. Jay being romantic in the most complicated, most Jay way possible.

She'd started crying harder, but different tears now, not devastation tears but relief tears, love tears, you're ridiculous tears, I can't believe this tears.

"You're learning Catalan," she'd said again, moving toward Jay now, crossing the kitchen in three quick steps. "You've been learning my language. For two weeks. Every morning. As a surprise."

"As a surprise," Jay had confirmed, opening her arms as Alexia reached her, catching her as she basically threw herself at her. "A terrible surprise apparently. A surprise that made you think I was having an affair. The worst surprise execution in history. I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry I made you think that. I'm so sorry I hurt you. I wasn't thinking. I was just... I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to be fluent enough to really impress you. I didn't think about how it looked. I'm an idiot."

"You're learning Catalan," Alexia had said again, burying her face in Jay's neck, breathing her in, feeling the relief wash over her in waves. "You're not cheating. You're learning my language."

"I'm learning your language," Jay had agreed, wrapping her arms tight around Alexia, holding her close. "Very badly. Very slowly. Very imperfectly. But I'm learning. For you. Only for you. Always for you. I love you. T'estimo. That's one of the first things I learned. T'estimo. I love you. In Catalan. For you."

Alexia had pulled back just enough to look at Jay's face, at her earnest expression, at the guilt and love and hope all mixed together.

"Say something else," she'd demanded. "In Catalan. Say something. I need to hear it. I need to know this is real."

Jay had taken a breath, had looked nervous, had clearly been trying to remember her lessons.

"Ets la dona més bonica del món," she'd said slowly, carefully, her pronunciation definitely wrong but her effort completely genuine. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world. That's what I said. I think. If I said it right. If my Catalan isn't completely terrible. That's what I meant to say. That's what I've been learning. How to tell you you're beautiful in your language. How to compliment you properly. How to flirt with you in Catalan. That's what all this was for. That's the surprise. That's what I've been doing at six in the morning. Learning to tell you you're beautiful. In the language you grew up with. The language that's yours."

Alexia had felt her heart do something complicated, something overwhelming, something that was part relief and part love and part complete disbelief that this was her life, that this was what had been happening, that Jay had been learning Catalan.

"Your pronunciation is terrible," she'd said, but she was smiling now, properly smiling, through her tears. "It's really, really bad, guapa."

"I know," Jay had said, smiling too now, relieved. "I know it's bad. My tutor keeps making this face like she's in pain when I try to pronounce things. But I'm trying. I'm learning. I'm getting better. Slowly. Very slowly. But I'm committed. I'm going to keep learning. I'm going to get fluent. Eventually. Maybe. Hopefully. For you."

"You made me think you were cheating," Alexia had said, but there was no anger in it now, just disbelief, just the remnants of fear mixing with relief. "For two weeks I thought you were having an affair. I was gathering evidence. I was convinced. I was dying inside. And you were learning Catalan."

"I'm so sorry," Jay had said again, cupping Alexia's face in her hands, wiping at her tears with her thumbs. "I'm so, so sorry, baby. I never wanted you to think that. I never wanted you to hurt. I was just being stupid. Being secretive for no good reason. Wanting the surprise to be perfect. I should have told you. I should have just said 'hey, I'm learning Catalan for you' instead of sneaking around like I was doing something wrong. I'm an idiot. I'm sorry."

"You're an idiot," Alexia had agreed, but she was pulling Jay down into a kiss now, desperate and relieved and overwhelmed. "You're such an idiot, bebe. You're ridiculous. You're perfect. You're learning my language. You're learning Catalan for me."

"For you," Jay had confirmed between kisses. "Only for you. Always for you. T'estimo. T'estimo. T'estimo."

"T'estimo," Alexia had said back, her accent wrapping around the words, her hands in Jay's hair now, pulling her closer. "T'estimo tant, guapa. So much. Too much. Forever."

They'd kissed for a long time, standing in the kitchen, both of them emotional and relieved and overwhelmed, both of them holding each other like they'd been separated for weeks instead of hours, both of them feeling the weight of the misunderstanding lift and transform into something else, something better, something perfect.

When they'd finally pulled apart, both breathless, Alexia had rested her forehead against Jay's.

"Don't ever do that again," she'd said quietly. "Don't be secretive like that. Don't make me think... don't make me think I'm losing you. I can't handle it. I can't handle thinking you're with someone else. It was killing me, amor. Every morning you were gone, every phone call you took in another room, every receipt I found... it was killing me. Please don't do that again."

"I won't," Jay had promised immediately. "I swear. No more secrets. No more suspicious behaviour. I'll tell you when I'm going to lessons. I'll share what I'm learning. I'll make this something we do together instead of something I hide. I promise. I'm so sorry I put you through that. I'm so sorry I made you think the worst. I love you. Only you. Forever you. I would never cheat. I would never betray you. You have to know that. You have to believe that."

"I believe you," Alexia had said, kissing her again, soft and sweet. "I believe you, bebe. You're learning Catalan. For me. That's... that's the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. Even if your pronunciation is terrible. Even if you made me think you were cheating. Even if this whole thing was a disaster. It's romantic. You're romantic. You're mine. You're learning my language. That's... that's everything."

"It is everything," Jay had agreed, holding her closer. "You're everything. That's why I'm learning. That's why I wanted to surprise you. Because you're everything to me and I wanted to prove it. I wanted to speak your language. I wanted to be able to tell you I love you in the words that matter most. T'estimo. That's what matters. That's what I'm learning. T'estimo. Forever."

"Forever," Alexia had echoed, smiling now, properly smiling, the fear and pain of the past two weeks finally releasing. "But now you have to keep learning. You have to get better. You have to actually become fluent. Because I want to hear you speak Catalan properly. I want you to flirt with me in my language. I want all of it. Vale?"

"Vale," Jay had repeated, grinning now. "I don't actually know what that means yet but I'm saying it anyway because it makes you smile when I do."

"It means okay," Alexia had explained, laughing. "It means yes, it means I agree, it means understood. It's very common. Very useful. You should learn it properly."

"Vale," Jay had said again, testing it out. "Vale. I can do that. I can learn that. I can learn all of it. For you. With you. Together now instead of secretly. That's better anyway. Better than sneaking around. Better than making you think I'm cheating. Much better."

"Much better," Alexia had agreed, pulling her down for another kiss, unable to help herself, unable to stop touching her now that she knew the truth, now that the fear was gone, now that everything made sense.

They'd stayed like that for a while, just holding each other in the kitchen, both of them processing everything that had just happened, both of them relieved and happy and completely in love.

Eventually Alexia had pulled back slightly, had looked up at Jay with something mischievous in her expression.

"You know what this means though, yes?" she'd said, her accent thick, her fingers playing with the hair at the base of Jay's neck.

"What does it mean?" Jay had asked, suspicious now.

"It means you have to teach me everything you've learned," Alexia had said, grinning. "Right now. Every phrase. Every word. I want to hear all of it. I want to know exactly what you've been learning at six in the morning for two weeks. I want the full demonstration. Everything."

"My Catalan is terrible," Jay had protested, blushing now. "You just said my pronunciation is terrible. You don't want to hear me butcher your language for twenty minutes."

"I absolutely do," Alexia had said. "I want to hear every terrible pronunciation. Every broken grammar attempt. Every single thing you've learned. It's romantic. It's perfect. It's you trying to speak my language. I want all of it. Now. Please, guapa. Show me what you've learned."

Jay had groaned but had been smiling too, had been pulling Alexia over to the couch, both of them sitting down, Alexia immediately curling into Jay's side, looking up at her expectantly.

"Okay," Jay had said, taking a breath. "Okay. But remember you asked for this. Remember you wanted to hear my terrible Catalan. Remember this was your idea when you're dying of second hand embarrassment."

"I'm ready," Alexia had said, kissing Jay's shoulder. "Show me. Tell me beautiful things in my language. Even if they're badly pronounced. Especially if they're badly pronounced. I want to hear it. All of it."

And Jay had.

Had spent the next hour teaching Alexia everything she'd learned, every phrase, every compliment, every attempt at romantic expression, all of it in terrible, broken, earnest Catalan that made Alexia laugh and cry and fall more in love with every mispronounced word.

Had told her she was beautiful in Catalan.

Had told her she was the light of her life in Catalan.

Had told her she wanted forever in Catalan.

All of it wrong. All of it imperfect. All of it completely, utterly, perfectly Jay.

And Alexia had loved every second of it.

They'd been cuddled together for hours now, neither of them wanting to move, both of them making up for two weeks of Alexia thinking the worst, both of them just existing in the relief of understanding.

Alexia had her head on Jay's chest, could hear her heartbeat, steady and familiar and perfect. Jay's fingers were in her hair, playing with the strands absently, both of them comfortable and content and exactly where they wanted to be.

"I really thought I was losing you," Alexia said quietly. "I really believed it. For two weeks I was convinced you were cheating. I couldn't sleep properly. I couldn't focus at training. I was dying inside, bebe. Every morning you left, every phone call you took, I was more and more certain. It was the worst two weeks of my life."

"I'm so sorry," Jay said again, pressing a kiss to the top of Alexia's head. "I'm so, so sorry, baby. I never wanted that. I never wanted you to hurt. I was just being stupid. Being secretive for a surprise that wasn't worth it. Nothing is worth making you think I would ever cheat on you. Nothing. I'm an idiot."

"You're my idiot," Alexia said, tilting her head up to look at Jay. "My ridiculous, romantic, learning-Catalan in secret idiot. My disaster person. Mine."

"Yours," Jay agreed, smiling down at her. "Always yours. Forever yours. Only yours. T'estimo."

"T'estimo," Alexia said back, then had shifted, had moved to straddle Jay's lap properly, had settled there with her hands on Jay's shoulders. "Say something else. In Catalan. Something romantic. Something that shows me what you've been learning."

"I've already told you everything I know," Jay protested, but her hands had gone to Alexia's waist automatically, holding her steady. "I've exhausted my entire Catalan vocabulary. I've got nothing left except maybe 'where is the bathroom' and 'I would like coffee.'"

"Then say those," Alexia said, grinning. "Tell me where the bathroom is. Very romantically. Make it work."

"That's impossible," Jay said, laughing now. "There's no romantic way to ask for bathroom directions."

"Try anyway," Alexia said, leaning down to kiss her, soft and sweet. "I want to hear you speak Catalan. I don't care what you're saying. I just want to hear you try. It's cute. You're cute. When you're trying so hard to pronounce things correctly. It's very you. Very earnest. Very perfect."

"You just like watching me struggle," Jay observed, but she was smiling, was clearly not actually bothered.

"I do," Alexia admitted. "I like watching you try. I like seeing how hard you're working. I like knowing you're doing this for me. It's romantic, guapa. Even when you're asking where the bathroom is. Even when your pronunciation makes my ears hurt. It's romantic because it's effort. Because it's you trying to speak my language. Because it matters to you enough to learn. That's what makes it perfect."

"On és el bany," Jay said, her pronunciation definitely wrong. "Where is the bathroom. There. I said it. Very romantic. Very smooth. Definitely the kind of thing that makes people fall in love."

"I'm already in love with you," Alexia said, kissing her again, deeper this time. "Very in love. Even with your terrible Catalan. Especially with your terrible Catalan. Because you're learning it for me. Because you care enough to try. Because you spent two weeks getting up at six in the morning to take lessons so you could surprise me. That's... that's love, bebe. That's real. That's what matters."

"I do love you," Jay said seriously, holding Alexia closer. "So much. More than I know how to say. In English or Catalan or any language. You're everything to me. You're my person. My home. My forever. That's why I'm learning. That's why I wanted to surprise you. Because I want to be better for you. I want to show you how much this means. How much you mean. I want to speak your language so you know I'm committed. So you know this is real. So you know I'm never leaving. Never betraying. Never doing anything except loving you. Forever. That's the goal. That's what matters. That's everything."

Alexia had felt tears building again, happy tears, overwhelmed tears, completely in love tears.

"You're going to make me cry again," she said, her voice thick with emotion and accent. "You're going to make me cry with your romantic declarations and your terrible Catalan and your perfect face. Stop being so perfect."

"Can't," Jay said, grinning now, wiping at the tears that had started to fall. "Being perfect for you is my full time job. It's what I do. It's my purpose. Being exactly what you need. Even when I'm a disaster. Even when I make you think I'm cheating by trying to be romantic. Even when I mess everything up. Still trying to be perfect for you. Always."

"You are perfect for me," Alexia said, cupping Jay's face in her hands. "Even when you're a disaster. Even when you make me think terrible things. Even when your Catalan pronunciation makes me want to cry. You're perfect. You're mine. You're learning my language. That's... that's everything I need. Everything I want. Just you. Being you. Trying for me. Loving me. That's perfect."

They'd kissed again, slow and deep and full of everything they felt, both of them lost in each other, both of them making up for two weeks of misunderstanding with overwhelming affection.

When they'd finally pulled apart, both breathless, Alexia had rested her forehead against Jay's.

"No more secrets," she'd said quietly. "Please. I can't handle another two weeks like that. I can't handle thinking I'm losing you. Just tell me things. Even if they ruin surprises. Even if they're not perfect. Just tell me. Vale?"

"Vale," Jay had agreed. "No more secrets. I'll tell you when I'm going to lessons. I'll share what I'm learning. I'll make this transparent. I promise. No more making you think the worst. No more suspicious behavior. Just honesty. Just us. Just loving you out loud instead of in secret. That's better anyway. Better than surprises. Better than grand gestures. Just us. Being honest. Being together. Being in love. That's what matters."

"That's what matters," Alexia had agreed, kissing her once more before settling back against her chest, content to just exist like this, wrapped up in each other, both of them exactly where they belonged.

The team had found out.

Of course they had.

Alexia had told them.

Had needed to tell someone about the absolute chaos of the past two weeks, about thinking Jay was cheating, about the Catalan lessons, about the whole ridiculous disaster.

They were in the locker room after training, everyone changing, chatting, the normal post-session chaos.

"So I thought Jay was having an affair," Alexia had announced casually, and the entire room had gone silent.

"WHAT?!" from approximately seven people simultaneously.

"For two weeks," Alexia had continued, pulling off her boots. "She was leaving at six in the morning. Taking secret phone calls. Hiding receipts. Coming back sweaty. I was convinced. I was gathering evidence. I was dying inside."

"Oh my god," from Patri. "Ale. What was she actually doing?"

"Learning Catalan," Alexia had said, unable to stop the smile that crossed her face. "She was taking Catalan lessons. Every morning. With a tutor. As a surprise. To be romantic. To speak my language."

Complete silence.

Then Mapi had started laughing.

Properly laughing. The kind of uncontrollable laughter that made her double over, that made her wheeze, that was completely undignified.

"She was learning CATALAN?!" Mapi had managed between laughs. "And you thought she was CHEATING?!"

"The behaviour was very suspicious!" Alexia had defended. "Very affair like! How was I supposed to know she was being romantic?!"

"That's the most Jay thing I've ever heard," from Ona. "Of course she would accidentally make romantic gestures look like cheating. Of course she would cause maximum chaos while trying to be sweet. That's so her."

"Say something," Pina had demanded, looking at Jay now, who had been sitting quietly on the bench, her face red with embarrassment. "Say something in Catalan. We need to hear this. We need to hear what almost destroyed your relationship."

"My Catalan is terrible," Jay had protested. "You don't want to hear it."

"WE ABSOLUTELY DO," from the entire team.

Jay had sighed, had looked at Alexia for permission, had received an encouraging nod.

"Ets la meva vida," she'd said carefully, looking at Alexia. "You are my life. That's what I said. I think. If I didn't completely butcher it. That's what I've been learning. How to tell Alexia she's important. In her language. That's what the lessons are for. That's what I'm working on. For her. Always for her."

The team had gone quiet again, but different quiet now, soft quiet, understanding quiet.

"That's actually really sweet," from Aitana. "Terrible pronunciation. But really sweet."

"Very romantic," from Caro. "In a very Jay way. Causing disaster while trying to be romantic. Very on brand."

"Are you going to keep learning?" Patri had asked.

"Yes," both Jay and Alexia had said simultaneously.

"But now she's going to tell me when she has lessons," Alexia had added. "No more secretive behaviour. No more suspicious early mornings. Just honest Catalan learning. Together."

"Together," Jay had agreed, reaching for Alexia's hand. "No more making you think I'm cheating. Just loving you. Out loud. In terrible Catalan. Forever."

"Forever," Alexia had said, squeezing her hand. "With terrible pronunciation and all."

"This is disgustingly cute," Mapi had observed. "I hate it. I love it. You're both disasters. It's perfect."

"We are disasters," Alexia had agreed, looking at Jay with so much love it was almost embarrassing. "Perfect disasters. Together. Learning Catalan. Speaking badly. Loving perfectly. That's us."

"That's us," Jay had confirmed. "Forever. T'estimo."

"T'estimo," from Alexia. "Sempre."

Thankfully, you weren't the type of player to let it get to your head. You didn't think you possessed that elusive star quality that seemed to come so effortlessly to many other athletes on the pitch and off of it. 

But your tackles? Those were your pride and joy. The very reason Barcelona signed you from Manchester United just a few weeks ago.

Still, as long as Alexia remained down on the grass, a knot of panic began to form in your chest. Is she staying down to make a point? Was I too aggressive? Did I go too hard?

You knew your style leaned…. physical, but the last thing you wanted was to make that kind of impression on your very first day, especially with the captain. 

Around you, the other girls laughed lightheartedly at Alexia. Vicky called out something in Catalan you didn't quite understand; it slipped right past you, but given how Alexia rolled her eyes, it was teasing.

You might have caught a word or two if they had been speaking Spanish, but they rarely did; Catalan was the main language, and you were busting your ass trying to learn it, but still, the language felt impenetrable, no matter how many nights you spent staring at textbooks.

You sighed and gathered some courage, ignoring how everyone was staring at you, at Alexia. Being in the spotlight always made you uncomfortable, especially as the new girl.

You forced your legs to work and you walked over to Alexia. Your heartbeat was picking up and a strange sense of smallness was settling over you as you moved towards La reina. 

Ballon d'Or down. Great. That's exactly how you make friends on the team. 

Without you realising, Vicky got closer and nudged your side, pure teenagehood mischief glinting in her eyes.

"Taking the captain down in one of your first training sessions?" she teased, wiggling her eyebrows. "We usually try to stay in each other's good graces around here, but hey, to each their own."

You felt the blush take over your face at her words – you hated how easily that happened. 

Vicky was just playing around, you could tell, but still, the last thing you wanted was to be seen as one who tried too hard, the one who went over everybody just to score or, in your case, defend.

Before you could stammer out a response, you felt a hand patting your head, a casual display of affection you had noticed was common among the Barça girls, but one that still felt foreign to you.

"Deixa la nena en pau, Vicky. Deixa de molestar," Patri said, though she was laughing at Alexia too just as much as the others. [Leave the girl alone, Vicky, stop teasing her.]

You caught the word nena – girl –, but the rest was a proper blur of vowels.

Your attention drifted back to Alexia. She was still on the ground, watching the interaction with the faintest hint of a smile.

When her eyes finally met yours, you braced yourself for the worst. But what you found in her face wasn't annoyance; it was something you weren't sure you would ever receive from her. It was something softer. Surprise… and maybe even respect…?

"Perdon," you said as you stepped closer and held out your hand. "I didn't mean to be so rough."

Alexia smiled and took your hand without hesitation. Her grip was firm, her palm calloused and warm against your softer skin. 

"Això ha estat bo" she said as you helped her up. "Fes ho més vegades, pero durant els partits." 

You tilted your head, nodding away even though you didn't understand a single word she was saying. In your defence, you had caught partits – matches – one of the few words you had managed to memorise. 

Your confusion must have been written all over your face, because Alexia's expression softened into something more personal, just for you, as if she too understood exactly how difficult it was not being able to communicate properly. 

She smiled before switching languages. "I said you were good, that I hope to see you doing it on the pitch, not just here", she explained, her whole face relaxing. "You are very strong… and skilled. You willl be a good addition to the team."

Your chest warmed at her words. 

You were intensely grateful that Patri had dragged Vicky's attention elsewhere, because the flush on your cheek was now impossible to hide. It was official, you had just made yourself one of Vicky's easiest targets, and Alexia was to blame.

"You have strong legs, too," she added, looking down at your thighs and making you feel entirely too exposed. "It will be hard to take you down."

You groaned internally, desperate to stop yourself from blushing like a schoolgirl. To cover it up, you wiped the sweat from your forehead, but you could still feel the heat burning the place she had just looked.

"Gràcies," you said simply.

You had practiced that word, along with dozens of other basic ones, for days, especially on the flight here. You knew the basic vocabulary, but you were still terrified of sounding clumsy or worse, plain silly.

"Are you taking classes?" Alexia asked, casually brushing the damp bits of grass off her kit from when she had hit the ground. 

You nodded. "Yes, Sílvia is teaching me. She's great… but I'm just a bit slow."

Alexia clicked her tongue in protest. "You are not slow… You just showed us you are actually very fast, sí?"

"Well, maybe physically…" You replied.

Then, catching you completely off guard, she reached out and flicked a stray blade of grass from your upper arm before pulling back. "It's just a new language," she said, tapping her temple lightly. "It takes time for the brain to rewire, don't worry… it took me a few too many years to learn english."

"It's hard," you murmured, dropping your gaze to your boots when you realised you didn't quite know how to respond.

"And," she went on, her voice dipping a little. "If you ever need help, you can always ask me, sí?"

Then – as if that wasn't enough to throw off your balance – she winked at you, a proper, Hollywood-star wink, before turning and jogging back into position.

You just stood there, watching her go back to training. 

No need to say your tackles didn't exactly improve for the rest of the session. Mostly because your brain was still stuck on that interaction, replaying it over and over again. 

Alexia had said rewiring took time, but with one look, she had managed to short-circuit your entire system.

A few weeks passed, and you still felt fresh off the plane from Manchester.

You were still tripping over basic Catalan phrases and adjusting to the Barcelona heat that made your kit stick to your bones. Your skin burned no matter how much sunscreen you used, though, the good side was that your tan looked incredible.

You were slowly getting to know the girls. They were friendly and welcoming, but there was a natural distance because of the language barrier that made everything a little harder. 

Your shyness didn't help either; in fact, it only made everything worse. Most of the girls switched between Catalan and Spanish, while you were still trying to keep up with both.

Esmee had been especially sweet with you, Ewa too. They knew how hard it was to have to learn two new languages at once. But like you, they were more reserved and quiet, and sometimes their privacy felt like just another obstacle you had to overcome to fit in.

Alexia, on the other hand, made a big effort. 

She greeted you every morning and made sure you weren't sitting alone during lunch. You never had to invite her; she simply sat by your side in silence. As a true leader, many players followed her, and when you least expected it, you were surrounded by people.

Before coming here, you had heard conversations in locker rooms and hallways about how La Reina was shy, maybe and even socially awkward. 

But here, the reality was different. Yes, she wasn't an extrovert, she wasn't loud, but she also didn't shy away from get-togethers; she wasn't the type to run away from team gatherings that, you quickly learned, happened at least twice a month.

Alexia, Esmee, Vicky and Patri made sure the atmosphere at Barça was welcoming. They made sure you didn't feel like the new signing. 

You were happy most days, at least you didn't feel like you had to constantly prove yourself worth. Your teammates accepted you with open arms, never once making you feel like you were an outsider.

But Alexia had been different; she had been the first to truly talk to you. Not with a polite welcome to the club speech, but a real conversation. She wanted to know you as a person and not as just a player. 

She was the first teammate who became something more, the first who felt like a friend.

She had found you after that first training session, sitting alone on one of the benches, your chest was still rising and falling as you tried to regain your breath. Your agent hadn't been exaggerating when he said training at Barcelona was more fatiguing than any match day back in Manchester. 

"You play like you are angry," she had said, dropping onto the bench beside you without needing an invitation. "Are you angry?"

"What?" You glanced at her, your lungs still burning.

"Angry," she repeated slowly. "Are you?"

"Mhm… no? I dont think so." You said, even slower.

She nodded. "You just get very… heated? Is that the right word?"

 "Heated?" You repeated, "Is that a bad thing?"

"No." She smiled, and her eyes looked smaller than they were, crinkling slightly. "It's effective, actually, and a little funny, too"

You tilted your head. "Funny how?"

"Because you don't look angry off the pitch," her gaze fell briefly to your mouth, before snapping back to your eyes. "You seem… pretty calm."

You had thought for a second, your fingers mindlessly playing with the edge of your training shirt. Suddenly, you felt aware of her presence, nervous by her attention,  the way her eyes fell on you, and she didn't seem in a rush to pull her gaze away. 

"Yeah, I don't think I am angry," you shrugged. 

She didn't say anything for a moment; she just watched you. "But… maybe football is where I put everything I don't show…?" you added quietly, a little hesitant to be talking this much.

Alexia didn't look away, if anything, she squinted her eyes and nodded, as if your words were the final piece of an internal puzzle she had been building since she first saw you, which hadn't been for too long.

"Mhmm," she hummed lightly, pushing herself off the bench before giving you a light pat on the shoulder. "Then I guess I'll have to start paying more attention to your game."

She paused, just for a second, and then, she winked again. "And to you."

That small conversation was the beginning of everything. That and the wink(s)... of course.

A few days later, Alexia didn't just suggest a place to eat, she actually drove you herself to a small café in El Parc i la Llacuna del Poblenou. 

You were a bit scared to accept, scared to be a burden. But a friend of yours back in Manchester had laughed it off, she told you Alexia wouldn't have asked it if she didn't want to go. That was the push you needed.

As you walked into the cosy, cream-colored walls cafe, Alexia headed straight to the counter, ordering for both of you in Catalan, her hands moving as she spoke with the barista, a girl in her twenties that, unlike you, seemed to understand her perfectly. 

You envied her for a few seconds.

When she was done, Alexia turned back to you, leaning against the counter. Her shoulder brushed against yours, and she didn't pull away, so neither did you.

"Okay, first things first," she said, her eyes locking onto you before she pointed at the menu you hadn't even realised she was holding. "If you want a black espresso, it's a cafè sol. If you want it with just a splash of milk, Tallat."

She tilted her head, studying you.

"But today?" she smiled. " You look like you need a Cafè amb llet." She shifted just enough for her arm to press a little more firmly against yours. "It's similar to tallat, but bigger, more milk, so it doesn't settle too heavy on the stomach… It's very comforting, if you ask me."

"Cafè amb llet," you repeated, the words coming out clumsy, but Alexia smiled, so you smiled too. "Okay… that wasn't so hard."

"See?" She said, clearly please.. "You just need to start living in Catalan, and then the language will come to you."

When your drinks were ready, you moved to a quieter corner. 

As you sipped your coffee, grateful you had listened to her suggestion, Alexia guided you through more words, making you repeat the ones you would actually use in your day-to-day life. 

She was patient and sweet. She never once laughed at you when you stumbled over the rolling rs; instead, she offered you that encouraging smile and said softly, "De novo." [again]

You were busy, trying to remember the word sucre as you stepped out of the café, repeating in your head and completely missing the silent whir of a bicycle speeding down the pavement toward you.

Before you could blink, Alexia's hand shot out. Her fingers wrapped around your forearm, pulling you back, straight to her chest.

"Careful, nena," she said, shooting a sharp look at the cyclist as he passed "This area gets busy this time around."

At first, standing that close to her, all you felt was the rush, the sudden pull and the spike of adrenaline, and then everything else settled in. 

You realised you could smell her perfume, a mix of vanilla and berries. You could feel the heat of her hand through the fabric of your shirt, careful and gentle as she firmly held you in place.

You didn't know it then, but months from that moment, you would come to recognise that grip in a dozen different contexts: as a greeting in the tunnel before a match, as a comfort reassurance after a loss…  and as a silent plea in the dark of a bedroom.

"Oh damn," You breathed, your heart beating rapidly. "Thank you.  I'm sorry, I didn't see him coming." You pouted at her, a little exaggeratedly.

"It's alright, he was going too fast," she said. 

Her thumb gave your arm a tiny, almost imperceptible squeeze before she let go, and for a second, you found yourself wishing she would touch your body all over. 

"Now tell me again…" she continued, as if nothing had happened. "How do you ask for the check?"

The weeks that followed became a blur of training sessions, quiet coffee dates, and no more near-death incidents with bicycles, thankfully. One was embarrassing enough. 

You had made your debut, had come on as a substitute, and also started on a handful of matches, and, little by little, you had begun to find your place within the team. 

You had been in sync with most of the players, some more than others. Pere had even pointed out more than once that you were a very disciplined defender. He said they needed someone like you, someone who could hold that last line and not give the opposition space, no matter how insistently the opposing strikers tried to pull you out of the position.

And for the first time since arriving, you believed that maybe you belonged there.

Everything was going well. Except for one thing. 

It was a small, almost insignificant situation compared to everything else you were adapting to. And yet, it was the one thing you hadn't quite figured out to do… The locker room.

You had developed a system for it. 

You would wait until everyone else had left before changing. You would pretend to check your phone multiple times, tie your boots twice, even though you were supposed to take them off.

Basically, you did anything to buy yourself time,  to avoid the casual nudity that seemed so effortless for everyone else on the team. 

Maybe it was a cultural thing, a Mediterranean thing, or maybe it was simply the way the team worked. Either way, it didn't come naturally to you at all.

Patri would strip off her kit without a second thought, carrying on with conversation as if nothing had changed. Marta would walk to the showers in nothing but her underwear, still talking about the match as if she were fully dressed. 

You, however, kept your eyes firmly on the inside of your locker until the room cleared out. You made an effort not to look at anyone, and more importantly, you prayed no one was looking at you.

Today was no different. 

The team had just ended -  two hours of high-intensity running that left everyone drenched in sweat. One by one, the other players walked toward the showers, laughing and talking loudly like usual.

"Oh, em va dir que no, t'ho pots creure?" Patri's voice echoed off the walls.

"Ostres, de debò?!" Vicky shot back, laughing.

You caught maybe half of it. Something about Patri saying no to someone, or someone saying no to her? The context was lost in the speed of their words. 

You realised (not for the first time) that even with Alexia's constant coffee dates, the locker room was a whole different level of linguistic; they didn't slow down for you when it was clear you didn't understand something. The language moved too quickly, too confusing.

Alexia was at her locker, five down from yours, moving like she knew the room with the back of her hand. She had already changed into clean clothes, her shin guards were off, her boots unlaced, and a damp kit peeled away into her bag. 

Even with your eyes fixed on your own space, you were hyper-aware of her. You couldn't help it; she seemed to occupy every spare centimetre of space in any room she walked into.

The room gradually emptied. 

Cata and Pina left together, Kika waved goodbye on her way out, and Clara was the last to head for the showers, calling out something in Catalan over her shoulder that made Alexia laugh.

The sound caught you off guard. You really liked hearing her laugh, more than you probably should.

And then, there was a sudden quiet, and it was just the two of you. After a few seconds, Clara turned on the shower in the other room, and the sound felt like too much.

You waited, hoping Alexia would head out first, but she didn't.

"You know we don't care about you changing, right?" she said very casually, as if she hadn't noticed you for weeks and how you were always the last one in the locker room.

Once again, heat crept up your neck. 

You hated that she had clocked your discomfort, but you weren't exactly surprised. 

Since that afternoon in Poblenou, a friendship has started to bloom between you. It was still new and fragile, but it was the start of something. 

"I just don't like being naked in front of people," you admitted, getting the cat out of the bag, but still refusing to look at her.

"Not even your teammates?" she asked. She sounded so genuinely confused, it was like she just wanted to understand you. "Not even here?"

"I'm just not used to it," you said. "We didn't change in front of each other back in Manchester, or at Corinthians. "This… " you struggled to find the words. "All of this is still new to me."

Alexia hummed softly, nodding to herself. Then she looked you up and down and made you aware of your state. You were still in your damp, dirty kit, probably looking like a startled kitten.

"Do you want me to leave so you can change?" She asked, and she seemed sincere; you knew she would walk out that door in a heartbeat if you asked her to.

"You don't have to leave," you said, hating how small your voice sounded. "But maybe… don't look?" 

Alexia shrugged, a small smile on her face. "Of course, nena," she said gently, and she turned her back to you without another word.

You exhaled and reached for the hem of your training shirt. Even with her back turned, you kept it quick and efficient. You would shower at home. For now, the fact that Alexia was willing to create this small and private bubble felt quite like a luxury.

"You played well today," Alexia said. "That tackle on Pina was good."

"She wasn't expecting it," you replied, pulling your shirt over your head as fast as possible, reaching for a clean one immediately. "It's easier that way."

"No one expects it from you," she countered. "You're quiet and fast and then boom, you are there, and the other team loses the ball."

You didn't answer this time, focusing entirely on the task of pulling on your clean shirt shorts. Every second felt stretched,  every second you were semi-clothed felt like an hour.

"... like a little bull," Alexia continued, and you could practically hear the smirk in her voice. "Tiny and quiet."

Despite your best efforts to stay hidden, you turned your face towards her. She was staring entirely at the wall across from her, acting as if the old, peeling paint was the most fascinating piece of art in Barcelona, just to give you privacy. 

"Bulls aren't tiny," you muttered, unable to help yourself.  "Or quiet."

"Tu sí," She teased, quickly glancing back at you with a playful glint in her eyes, before realising you were about to take off your shorts, so she turned again. "You're shorter than me, at least. And quieter, too." [you are]

Your face burned at the mention of the height difference. It wasn't common for defenders to be short, but you were; that's what gave you agility. Alexia was a good centimetre taller than you; you liked how she hovered over you.  

You turned back to your locker, your fingers fumbling clumsily with your sipper of the bag before you finally pulled it open. 

"You can turn now," you said after a moment, loud enough for her to hear.

She did.

"Do you have plans tonight?" She asked like it was a natural question to be asked, and if it didn't make your heart race.

It sounded casual, the kind of question teammates ask each other all the time, but after a few weeks of light flirting, even a socially awkward creature like you couldn't miss how the question sounded.

"No," you said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Good." She stood up as if your answer had settled something in her.

She walked back to her locker and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Come over," she added. "I'll cook."

You blinked.

"What?" The word just slipped out, your tone sounding completely stupid. "Come over… where?"

"My house, tonta," she said affectionately. "To spend some time together, si?"

For a dangerous second, your mind was completely blank. No synapses in the making. 

"Y-you don't have to cook," you told her, your mind racing, latching onto that detail as if it were more important than the fact that theAlexia Putellas had invited you to her house. "I can pick something up on the way and bring food, or-or something…? You don't have to go through the trouble–" 

"I want to cook." She stepped close now, close enough that you could catch that familiar scent of hers, the same one that clouded your senses during the bicycle incident. "...Unless you don't want to come?" she continued. "It's alright if you don't–"

"I want to," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "I mean… I haven't really had a homemade meal in a long time." 

You immediately felt the urge to bang your head on the metal locker for sounding so pathetic and eager, but how could you deny a date night at Alexia's house? Alexia, who was so kind, so smart, so beautiful. 

"Well…obviously I don't want to go just for the food!" You added in panic. "I mean… since I don't have anything else to do… I guess I could try some good, Catalan food. And spend time with you! Of course!" You said, trying to sound chill instead of nervous. "That would be… fine an-and fun!" 

Her smile turned knowing, her eyes crinkling as if she could read your spiralling thoughts. 

"A les vuit, sí? Eight o'clock." She said, mercifully ending your internal crisis. 

"Okay," you exhaled.

She left first, her footsteps echoing.. You waited exactly five minutes before following, just to be safe, to let the adrenaline fade. A minute later, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was a pin with her address.

You realised, embarrassingly enough, that you hadn't even asked for her address, like a normal person would when invited to somebody else's house for the first time. 

A second thought hit you right after that. 

Alexia had been the last one in the locker room with you because she wanted to invite you, and only you.

She had planned this, and you had fallen into the trap willingly.

That night, you went to her house expecting some sort of formal dinner, but Alexia met you at the door in grey sweatpants, a vintage Barcelona jersey, with her brunette hair cascading over her shoulder, and any expectation you had dissolved. 

The sweet scent of her shampoo filled your nostrils before anything else. Her scent had become comforting. You wondered if she was trying to make a Pavlov dog out of you.

The air inside her home was different from anything you had come to associate her with. It didn't smell like the pitch or the locker room; instead, it smelled of garlic, anions and olive oil. 

It smelled like a home, you realised, lived in and loved, which was a sharp contrast to your own flat, which still was in that weird transition of moving in, filled with unpacked boxes.

"You're five minutes early," she teased, stepping aside to let you in. "Torito is punctual. I should have known." [little bull].

You rolled your eyes playfully at the new nickname, and, as you made your way inside, your shoulders brushed against each other for a second too long. Neither of you commented on it.

You spent the evening perched on a stool at her kitchen island, watching her chop vegetables, with attentive eyes and careful hands. When you tried to help, your clumsy attempt at dicing an onion was immediately vetoed.

"No, no," Alexia laughed, stepping closer and gently nudging you aside with her hip. "Just sit there and look pretty. I didn't even know there was a wrong way to cut an onion until I saw you do it."

"It's an onion, Ale," You protested, a small pout forming despite yourself. "It all ends up in the pan anyway."

"Mira," she said, glancing back at you, "in this kitchen, we have standards," she pointed at the anion before dropping it into the pan. "We do things properly." [look]

At first, she stayed in that teacher mode, narrating every movement and guiding you through.  "This is a ceba," she said, holding up the onion. "And this?" She lifted the wooden spoon. "Cullera."

You repeated the words, slower, trying to match the shape of the sounds and they left her mouth. But as the steam rose from the stove, the language lesson drifted into deeper and more intimate conversations. 

You talked about the weight of being a big-name signing at a club like Barça, and the stark difference between the rain in Manchester and the heat of Spain. At some point, without even thinking, you confessed that, with the club's help, you were balancing training with a degree in Biomedicine at the University of Barcelona.

"Biomedicine?" Alexia paused, turning to look at you, impressed. "So, you are Torito on the pitch and a scientist off it? My teammates are overachievers, I see."

"I just like understanding how things work," you said, feeling heat creep up your neck as you looked to the countertop. "Signals, pathways... It makes sense to me… it's logical and fun."

"What about Catalan?" She asked. "Is that logical to you yet? Or are the lessons with Sílvia still too difficult?'

"Mhmm," you put your hand on your chin, considering it seriously.  "Let's say it's a work in progress."

Later, once the food was ready and you were both seated at her wooden table, the topic circled back to the language, and you talked about a few words you were struggling with. 

You tripped over a word she had asked you to repeat, your tongue was tangling on the vowels, and your frustration was building with each attempt. You tried again… and stumbled again.

This time, Alexia leaned slightly, reaching across from her seat. She didn't just correct you; she actually brushed your chin with her finger, guiding your face up.

"Look at me when you say it," she murmured, her voice quieter. "Feel how the sound moves."

You did. You watched her mouth as she slowly enunciated the word cullera. But somewhere along the way, you stopped listening. 

Your attention lingered on the soft curve of her pink lips, the way her cupid's bow looked as if it had been drawn on with a fine brush rather than created by a random mix of DNA strains.

"Why are you looking so hard, torito?" she teased, setting the spoon down.

Your eyes snapped back to hers, the moment breaking. "I'm just doing what my captain told me to do," you replied.

"Sí?" She tilted her head, a challenge in her eyes. "Així que ets molt obedient."

The words came quickly and fluidly, and your brain scrambled to translate them. 

So you are very… obedient? Was that what she said? Probably.

"Sí... ho sóc…?" you answered, your voice much less confident than it had been a moment ago. [Yes, I am]

You felt something funny growing in your chest. Maybe it was because of the weight of the conversation, maybe because, for the first time in weeks, you were having a conversation in Catalan…. or maybe it was the way she was looking at you now. 

Alexia's smirk widened. 

She leaned across the table, the space between you disappearing until you could feel the warmth radiating off her. 

"Do you know the word for kiss?" She asked softly.

"No," you shook your head. "Sílvia hasn't taught me that one yet."

"I don't think she will need to." Her voice dropped, and then she added in a whisper, "It's petó."

Then, she leaned in the rest of the way until her lips met yours.

The kiss was gentle and tentative, as if you two were tasting if you were really compatible, if the chemistry you were feeling could be translated into something else during the kiss. 

The intimacy didn't truly start with that kiss, though.  

It started in the silence right after, the way her eyes stayed locked on yours for a heartbeat too long, how neither of you pulled away immediately.

You realised that her house was the only place in all of Spain where you didn't feel like you had to keep your guard up. 

By the time you left that night, the pin she had sent you wasn't just an address any more, it was a destination you find yourself going to for many nights, again and again, without needing to be asked.

A/n: I hope you guys liked this one or else I'll pretende I don't have part 2 and 3 written hehe. If you want to see something specific in this story let me know. I have a big part of it planned out but let's see what happens hehe

The feeling of pride as you watched someone enjoy eating what you made was unmistakably better than making a goal; okay, maybe you were exaggerating a bit, but it came close, so close.

You had made risotto with mushrooms a dozen times. It was Alexia's favourite, and once you got that piece of information, you began cooking it every Friday back in Barcelona, but you hadn't made it since moving to Madrid.

Maybe that was why the Arborio rice looked intimidating. The Parmesan cheese too smelly, and the hazelnuts scattered across the counter seemed like a lot and not enough at the same time.

Everything was going wrong, and you couldn't tell why.

Actually, you could, you very much could.

It was Misa Rodriguez's fault.

You were happy to have her over, excited even, but you didn't know how to behave around someone you like (someone you had just realised you liked).

You knew what it was like to cook a meal because you wanted to impress someone, because you wanted to hear compliments coming from other people's mouths. You've been doing it with your family for years.

But it was different with Misa.

You didn't know how to cook for a girl. For someone you thought was pretty.

You wanted to make the best meal you've ever had, and wanted to make Misa happy.

But at the same time, your hands kept shaking, your stomach reminded you that you were hungry and thirsty and that it needed food too.

What if she hated your cooking? She would be surely hating a part of yourself as well. And you couldn't accept that.

Not right now, not at the point in your life where a rejection would feel like a knife to your heart.

You looked at the kitchen clock when it ticked loudly.

Fuck.

it was 6:34 pm. Misa would arrive soon, and you barely had anything ready. You spent too much time thinking and getting anxious about cooking than actually cooking.

You had postponed it as much as you could. You were an anxious avoidant, if that wasn't clear already. And that was another part of you that you hated.

The list was growing longer as you discovered more pieces of information about yourself.

The rice was almost done, though. At least you had to pat yourself on the back for that.

The salad was resting on the kitchen counter. You just needed to add the natural yoghurt to it and the baby spinach - oh - maybe some extra virgin olive oil would be good, too, but you didn't know if you had bought it last time you went to the market, things were so expensive in Madrid that—

The doorbell rang. And you froze.

Well, your whole body went rigid except for the hand cutting the mushroom, which led to the knife cutting right through your finger.

You winced in pain. No sound left your body as you curled against yourself. You didn't dare to look. Couldn't look.

You enjoyed the pain, but you didn't like blood (not anymore).

It was supposed to stay inside of you, not outside.

The knife hit the cutting board with a wet thud. The mushrooms had drops of blood on them now, a mix of beige, brown and dark red. The kitchen floor was smeared with blood, and some of it fell on your foot.

Blood, blood, blood. The smell of iron was filling the air, clinging to the scent of thyme. The doorbell rang again.

You were going to throw up. It kept pouring out of your finger. It didn't stop.

You were frozen, the pain wasn't doing its purpose of keeping you away from danger, of bringing you to security. It was, once again, trapping you in it.

The fourth time the doorbell rang, Misa's voice came with it.

"Hola, Putellas?" she said through the door, voice worried. "It's me… are you there?"

Misa was at the door. Misa. You were making a meal for Misa. But now it had blood on it. Now it was all ruined. Now it was—

Your finger throbbed. You looked down at it. It didn't look good; you didn't need to be a nurse or a doctor to say that.

You grabbed the kitchen towel and wrapped it around the cut, soaking the blood.

Its fibres were getting into the wound. It didn't feel natural. There shouldn't be cotton in your bloodstream. You cursed.

You looked at the mushroom once again, tears prickling in your eyes. The door. You had to answer the door. Misa was there, still waiting.

You took a step closer to the door; you wrapped your finger a second time, you didn't want Misa to see you bleed. Blood was private.

You opened the door just an inch, just enough for part of your face to poke through it. You kept your wounded hand behind the door.

"Misa... hi!" you said happily, your voice came out way too forced.

Misa smiled when she saw you. She was wearing a hoodie and black jeans. Her hair was down, something you didn't see often. She looked very pretty.

You wanted to invite her in. She looked warm, her face was welcoming, her presence safe; you wanted to rewind your day, start over, let this happen the way it was supposed to.

"Hey, Putellas," she said, her tone began happy, but then it turned confused. "Is everything okay?"

"I-I'm sorry," you said, trying to smile, but by Misa's face, she could tell it was fake. "I-I'll have to cancel tonight's dinner."

"Why?" Misa asked, getting closer to the door, suspicious dripping in her voice. "What's happening?" She tried to take a look inside your house, but with how narrow the opening was, she could barely look at anything.

"I-I got hurt," you said, "Small little thing, b-but I didn't finish cooking so there's no food and—"

"You got hurt? Where?" Misa asked seriously.

"It's nothing," you said. You didn't want her to see you like that; you couldn't.

"Let me in, sí?" she said gently.

"No," you said, surprising yourself with your firm tone. You placed your foot on the door, creating another barrier. "It's nothing."

Misa was silent, looking at you as if you were a scared animal that could bite at any time.

"If it's nothing," She said quietly, looking you right in the eyes. "Then why are you crying?"

You didn't notice you were crying. Your hand, the uninjured one, went to your cheek. Completely damp. You didn't mean to cry, not in front of her, not in front of anyone.

"I-I'm sorry," you murmured.

As you moved to close the door, Misa gripped onto it. She pushed it open firmly, making you move your foot that was behind the door, and you almost lost your balance.

As she opened the door, you felt trapped. You held the kitchen towel tight against your hand, but the pain only grew, so you softened the grip a little bit.

Misa's eyes were scanning you, trying to find where you were hurt and then her eyes fixated on your hand. She didn't say anything, she just held your forearm firmly as she reached your other arm.

"Did you cut it?" she said softly, examining it.

Her touch was gentle, her voice too, she didn't seem mad, didn't seem angry. You cried even more.

Misa didn't question it; she thought it was because of the pain.

You were twelve years old.

Mama was out on a work trip for the week, leaving only you, Alba and Alexia at home.

Alexia was trying to be the responsible one, but in her nineteen years of maturity, there was only so much she could do.

On the first night, Alba disappeared.

Alexia had called every single one of her friends, begging them to tell her where she was. But none of them did. So she went to you.

She questioned you angrily if you knew where Alba was, her voice was sharp and desperate. You were scared,

The questioning didn't last long. She saw your eyes, how confused you were, and how small and young you suddenly seemed compared to her.

She sighed, sat on the sofa, holding the bridge of her nose.

"Mami's gonna kill me if I call her and say Alba's missing," she murmured, but it was enough for you to hear.

You were standing next to her, hands trembling. Scared for Alba. Nervous for Mami, wanting to fix everything so Alexia didn't seem so lost.

She had a game in two days, so she couldn't be stressed about this.

You didn't know how to fix things yet, didn't know any words that would help Alexia. So you tried cooking.

While she stood there, her ear to the home phone, you went to the kitchen to make spaghetti.

It was an easy recipe. Boil the water, add the pasta, then chop the tomatoes, onions, and spinach. Mix everything together and top the pasta with the sauce. Very simple.

You had learned it last year, when Papa passed and Mama was too sad to leave the bed.

During one night, you saw Alexia crying in the kitchen, murmuring to Alba that she couldn't keep on training and being responsible for everybody's meals.

So you took matters into your own hands.

You could hear Alexia's voice from the kitchen, but it didn't matter; nothing mattered while you were cooking.

Alexia had bought you a new knife set. She didn't say anything, just left the box on top of the counter as if it weren't the best gift in the world.

The knives were precise and sharp. The tomato juice barely had time to stain the blade; it was so fast that part of it sprayed across the cutting board.

It was a very good knife. Too good.

You had blinked at the wrong moments. That's why you cut your finger.

It wasn't because your mind was telling you to do it.

It wasn't because your mind told you it didn't remember what colour your blood was.

No.

It was because you blinked. It was because you weren't paying attention. You didn't mean to do it on purpose. You didn't mean to hurt yourself.

Of course you didn't. It was just a wrong blink.

When the knife sliced through the meat of your finger, you kept quiet, watching the blood dripping and mixing with the tomato juice on the cutting board.

Red. Your blood was red, just like the tomato.

Now you could breathe properly. Now you knew the colour of your insides again. But with that knowledge came a price.

Pain.

The pain didn't stop. You didn't know what to do. You were frozen in place, knife to your hand, still sliced through your finger. It didn't cut all the way in; you still had your finger. It just wasn't intact. It wasn't whole.

You were scared to take the knife away. So you didn't.

You looked at the microwave clock. It was 7:56 pm.

You looked down at your finger again, Alexia's voice in your ear, she was pacing the living room now, you could tell she was still nervous just by the pattern of her steps.

You looked at the microwave again. 8:16 pm.

The blood kept coming. The knife was still there.

The pain was washing over you. It hurt. But you had felt worse. It felt several times worse when you watched unknown people laying your Papa to rest in the dirt.

This was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to that.

So you stood there. Feeling. Feeling something.

Physical pain was good, better than grief. At least you could see and indicate what was hurting you.

Most of the time, you couldn't even pinpoint what caused you pain. Now you did. You liked knowing.

You were starting to feel lightheaded. Your feet ached from standing too long. You didn't want to call Alexia, didn't want to bother her, she already had to worry about Alba.

Minutes passed. You waited, but didn't know for what.

Footsteps approached. You looked around the kitchen frantically, searching for something, anything that would make the wound and blood disappear. But there was nothing.

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You pressed your lips tight, trying not to cry, but you failed.

"I found Alba, gracias a Dios, she's at—"

Alexia froze completely as she stepped into the kitchen, her mouth still open with unfinished words.

"Perdón," you said in a small voice, looking at Alexia, trying to read her body language, trying to think of what to say.

Alexia's eyes moved from your face to the cutting board. To the knife. To the blood. Everything was red... the counter was carmine.

"Mi corazón, what—" She took a step closer, grabbing paper towels and placing them on top of the knife, over your finger.

Her voice was so soft. Her fingers were so gentle on you. It made you cry harder. You missed Alexia.

"No, no," she said, in a false calm voice. "No llores, it's okay." [don't cry]

Alexia said it was okay, but it was like she didn't know what to do. She didn't seem like your older, wiser sister now. She seemed like a kid, uncertain and scared. Just like you.

Alexia took your arm and placed your injured hand against your chest, telling you to hold the knife in place. To not take it off.

"We're going to the hospital, sí?" she said, already placing a firm hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the house.

But as soon as the word hospital hit your ears, you froze. Not even Alexia's guiding hand was enough to make you move.

You looked up at her, cheeks wet, lower lip trembling. "No. No-no hospital," you stammered, panic completely setting in. "No-- ca-can't go again."

Understanding washed over Alexia's face. The last time you saw Papa, he was in a hospital. You hadn't been to any hospital since he passed. You couldn't go.

"We need to go, mi amor," Alexia said tenderly, sounding just like Mama.

Mama. You wanted your mom. You missed her. You wanted her by your side. Your crying turned into sobs, and Alexia wrapped her arms around you, bringing your head to her chest.

She kissed your head. "I'm gonna make it better, te prometo," she whispered. "But we need to go to the hospital first, sí? Vamos."

You didn't have the strength in your body to fight. Air was barely getting into your lungs. You could barely breathe, let alone run away from Alexia.

Your hand throbbed too. You wanted to fix it. You wanted to fix everything that was wrong with you. If Papa were still here, none of this would be happening.

Alexia opened the passenger door and helped you in before going to her own side, getting behind the wheel.

"Just wait a little longer," she kept saying, but it seemed like it was more for her own sake than yours.

Alexia drove like a madwoman. It startled you, she was always the most boring driver ever, and followed every rule completely.

But it seemed like making sure you didn't die from blood loss was more important now.

You were getting closer to the hospital. Alexia parked awkwardly in front of the hospital doors and helped you out of the car, holding your arm, trying to keep you from moving it.

She barely had to say anything when you walked in. As soon as people saw a young girl dripping blood, there were nurses all over you.

Alexia didn't leave your side. Not when the nurses told her to. Not when the nurses yelled at her. She stood next to you, rigid and unmoving.

You were taken to a white room that smelled like antiseptic. Your whole body was shaking as they placed you down on a chair, Alexia's hand on your shoulder, grounding you.

"I know you want Mama and Papa," Alexia leaned over, murmuring in your ear. "But I'm here, sí?"

You didn't even realise you were calling for them. Didn't realise you were speaking at all. Maybe you were dissociating. Trying to forget you were in a hospital.

The mere thought of being here was frightening, but the way Alexia kept looking around at the walls, it was clear it was a shared trauma between the Putellas.

The nurse slowly took the bloody paper wrap from your finger. The knife was still there. She moved your hand from side to side, and you winced. Alexia held your shoulder blade tensely.

"Con cuidado, que le está doliendo mucho," Alexia said sternly. The nurse completely ignored her. [Be careful, it's hurting her a lot]

"You're going to need stitches," the nurse said. "But there's good news… the knife didn't reach any important nerves."

"I'm going to take the knife out now," she said, not looking at Alexia. "Do you want to stay here? There will be a lot of blood."

Before you could even breathe, Alexia was already nodding. "I'm not going anywhere."

The nurse nodded and picked up an injection.

"This is for local anaesthesia," the nurse explained, looking at your eyes. "It will hurt for a few seconds, but then you won't feel anything, sí?"

You nodded quickly.

"You are her sister?" the nurse asked Alexia. "You'll need to sign a form for me to be able to care for her." The nurse moved her chin, directing it to a table in the room where papers lay.

"It just says that you are responsible for her and any medical decisions while she's here."

Alexia nodded, but didn't move.

The nurse waited, the shot ready in her hand. "Now."

Alexia's eyes moved from you to the nurse. "I'm not leaving her."

The nurse looked at Alexia as if she had had this conversation several times.

"It's five steps. Go. The longer you take, the longer she'll be in pain."

Alexia sighed angrily before walking to the table and signing the paper with more force than necessary. In less than a minute, she was already at your side.

"I-I don't want to," you said as soon as the nurse was ready to give you the anaesthesia. You retreated, trying to get away, but the small chair you were in and Alexia's hand kept you in place.

"L-let me go," you said once again, trying to mirror Alexia's usual stern voice.

"No," Alexia said, jaw locked. "It'll be quick. You need the stitches."

"I don't." You tried to move again, but then Alexia leaned over and held you down with her arms.

The nurse in front of you looked tired.

"Mira, niña," she began. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way. The hard way is that I get a bunch of nurses to hold you down while your sister waits outside. The easy way is to fix your finger with just us. What do you want?"

The nurse barely waited for your awareness.

The injection stung sharply and quickly on your skin; after a minute of waiting, the knife was finally taken from your wound.

You cried from pain, but also for your knife. Alexia had just bought it for you. You didn't want to leave it at the hospital… no, you wanted to keep it.

"I'll buy you another, cariño," Alexia said in your ear as she followed where your eyes were looking. "Did you like them? Do you want another set?"

You were ready to answer when your eyes fell to your finger again. The cut was deep, so much blood. You wanted to throw up.

Alexia held your chin gently, making you look at her while she cleaned the tears from your cheek. "Talk to me, cariño. Do you want another set?"

"S-sí," you nodded, trying not to think about the nurse working on your finger. "I-I want a-a salad set."

"Yeah? okay, I'll buy it for you," Alexia said, her voice steady and soothing. "After here we'll go home, then I'll take you shopping."

Before you realised it, the nurse had already finished the stitches.

"All good," the nurse said, getting up from her chair. "Try to stay away from cooking for a little while, sí? Be more careful, it could have ended way worse." The last bit was directed at Alexia.

Alexia's jaw tightened, but she just nodded. Her hand found yours (the uninjured one) and squeezed.

The nurse wrapped your finger in white gauze, explaining something about keeping it dry and changing the bandage.

But her words felt distant, and a little muffled too. You kept staring at your wrapped finger. It looked wrong.

"Come on, mi amor," Alexia said softly, helping you stand. Your legs felt unsteady, and you were too tired.

The walk to the car was quiet. Alexia kept her arm around your shoulders, guiding you carefully.

The hospital smell clung to your clothes... you wanted to take a shower. Alexia opened the passenger door for you before getting into her seat

"Alba? Did you really find her?" you asked, feeling comfort in being in the car, comfort about going home.

"She's fine. She's at Luisa's house. She said she forgot to tell me. I'll pretend to believe it." Alexia started the engine, looking at you out of the corner of her eyes. "I'm worried about you, though, not her."

You didn't know what to say, so you just looked out the window.

Barcelona felt different during the night, you didn't realise how long you and Alexia were inside the hospital until you saw a city clock, it was past midnight.

"The cutting board," you said suddenly. "It had blood on it."

Alexia was quiet for a moment. "I'll clean it up when we get home."

"And the counter?"

"I'll handle it, too… don't worry, petita."

You wanted to protest. The kitchen was your space. Your responsibility. But your finger throbbed under the gauze, and you felt (once again) so tired.

"Will you really buy me the salad set?" you asked, your voice low.

"Te prometo." Turning her head to you, before turning to the road. "Tomorrow, if you want."

"Okay." You leaned your head against the window, watching Barcelona pass by. "Can we get ice cream too?"

For the first time since this whole thing started, Alexia smiled. Really smiled. "Sí, cariño. Whatever you want."

For a moment, you almost felt normal again. Alexia was talking to you, being nice. It almost felt like life before Papa passed.

But when you looked down at your finger, you remembered. The pain came back, but not the physical kind.

It was that familiar ache that had settled in your chest a year ago, the one that had made a home between your ribs and wasn't planning to leave any time soon.

Your finger was there, stitched up… but you remembered how, just hours ago, you had known exactly what was wrong, exactly where the pain was coming from.

And despite everything (the hospital, the blood and the stitches) part of you already missed that clarity that came with the pain.

So you did it more times than you could count.

Misa's fingers were still gentle on your forearm, her eyes catching on old scars scattered across your hands and fingers. You tried to tell her, between cries, that they were from other cooking accidents when you were younger.

She hummed, and then her eyes fell to the new cut, the one still pouring blood.

"Let me see," she said quietly, already unwrapping the blood-soaked towel.

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see her reaction.

"It's deep, I think," she murmured, then wrapped your finger in the towel again. "Let's go, I'll take you to the hospital—"

"No," you said, pulling your hand away from her. "I'll take care of it. I always have these kinds of accidents."

She looked at you suspiciously. "You'll take care of it? How? And what do you mean you always have these accidents?"

You went to the bathroom while Misa stood by the door.

You knelt on the floor and opened the bathroom cabinet, taking out a small first aid kit. You put it on the counter, holding your towel tight as you searched for the antiseptic.

You caught your reflection in the mirror. You had stopped crying now, but your nose was red, as well as your cheeks. Your clothes, too, were stained with blood.

You exhaled before taking the towel away and opening the faucet, letting the water wash away all the blood. You had grown accustomed to this happening; almost all of your fingers had little scars on them for the very same reason.

You knew how to read a wound, to know when you needed to actually go to the hospital for stitches or when you could just make a homemade bandage.

The cut on your finger was bad-ish. If you went to the hospital, you knew they would give you a stitch or two, but it wasn't that bad. It would heal on its own. You just needed to keep it clean and closed tightly.

That's what you did.

You hadn't noticed Misa standing in the bathroom doorway. She was quietly watching you, arms crossed, but her eyes were careful, taking in every single one of your actions.

You tried to ignore her presence, focusing on the makeshift bandage you were creating.

After a few minutes, you felt that the bandage was secure enough. You looked at it, moving your hand from side to side. You could move your fingers, but it hurt.

No cooking for you for the next week. You would also have to be extra careful during training.

"Didn't take you for clumsy," Misa finally said.

You gave her a side glance. "More like absent-minded," you murmured.

"Guess we'll have to take a rain check on that risotto," she said.

"Sí," you agreed, still too scared to look at her face. "Perdón."

"It's alright," she said, then took a step closer. Her hand landed on your forearm, turning you around. "Can I see it?" She looked down at your bandaged finger.

You nodded, reaching your hand out for her. She examined it, analysing and studying, as if she had been a nurse in another life.

"It looks good," she said. "Professional even."

"Sí."

"Do you do this a lot?"

You knew she was trying to be casual, trying to sound like she didn't care that much, but you could tell she was trying to pry information.

"Not a lot," you lied. "Just went to the hospital a lot for cutting my finger while cooking when I was a kid. I watched the nurses, so I kind of learned how to deal with it."

"Not a lot of kids go to the hospital for cutting their own fingers."

You didn't say anything.

"Do you have pain medicine?" she asked, tilting her head. "If you want, I can go to the pharmacy, get some for you, sí?"

You smiled sadly. "I have painkillers, thank you, though."

There was silence between the two of you, the only sound being the faucet dripping. Neither of you moved. You stayed in front of her, rigid. She was, too, but softer.

She let go of your arm and said carefully, "I don't think you're okay."

"It's just a small cut," you said.

"Not talking about the cut."

You looked at her warm eyes, how they seemed to be reading right through you.

"I think you should leave, Misa," you said.

"Do you?"

"Yes, please."

She nodded, taking a step back.

"Are you okay here alone, though?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," you said. "If I need anything, I'll go to your apartment."

"Good, you do that," she said, and then, unexpectedly, she leaned over and kissed your cheek, her lips warm against your wet skin. "I'm just a few floors away. I'm a light sleeper, so just ring the doorbell."

You felt your cheeks getting red. "Okay, thank you."

"Bye, Putellas," she said, and then she turned around and left the bathroom. You heard your front door closing, and you were alone again.

You were having breakfast the next day, the cup warm in your hands, and the smell of coffee comforting, hitting your nostrils almost like an old memory.

You had woken up to Misa's message. She had woken up thirty minutes before you and asked if you were okay. You replied quickly, telling her 'sí, thank you' before starting your morning routine.

You loved routines.

You always had breakfast at the same time every single day. You always drank the same coffee, made the same way. Routines brought you safety; you knew what to expect at all times.

What you didn't know to expect was a video call coming from your sister. Alexia was calling you. And you were, once again, frozen solid. You let it ring once, then twice.

Why was she calling you? Did something happen with Mama? Alexia never called. Alexia wasn't a morning person; she always slept late. She appreciated a good sleep.

When the third call came, you pressed accept and waited a few seconds until her face appeared.

She seemed to be sitting in her bed, holding her phone with one hand. Her jaw was locked in place. She looked worried.

Before you could say anything, her voice came through.

"Was it bad this time?" she asked straightforwardly.

She didn't need to explain what she was talking about. You already knew. You just didn't know how she knew.

"No," you told her, looking at the window, not wanting to make eye contact, not even through the screen. "Just a cut."

"They're always just a cut, though," Alexia said.

"Did Misa tell you?" you asked, pressing your lips tight.

You saw her face, how she didn't want to tell you, but it was obvious.

"I didn't know you two were friends," Alexia said.

"We aren't, not really."

"Then why was she having dinner at your place?"

You were never rude to either of your sisters, especially Alexia. But right now she was ruining your day, ruining your coffee. It didn't even taste good anymore…it tasted bitter.

You didn't want to remember everything that happened last night. You didn't need Alexia to remind you of this part of yourself that you hated so much.

It was like all the sadness, the need for attention, the need to be accepted by your sister, it was all shifitng into something sharper and dangerous. It was all turning into something that was unfamiliar to you; you didn't like it.

It was anger. Pure anger. Anger was a very well-known feeling for your sister, not for you. You found comfort in sadness, melancholy, not in rage or resentment.

"I don't need to explain anything to you," you said, feeling proud that your voice came out cold. "Not anymore."

"I know you don't," Alexia said, rolling her eyes. "But I wish you would."

You let out a dry laugh. "You wish? Then why haven't you called me in three months? Why have you been to Madrid for games and didn't even bother to visit me?"

"I've been busy, petita," Alexia said, matching your tone. "I can't run around you all the time."

"Run around me?" you said. "I'm not asking you to run around me. I'm asking you to call from time to time, just like Alba does. You don't fucking love me, and I don't know why."

Alexia froze.

Her whole face went still.

For a moment, you thought it was your wifi connection, but then you saw her blink. Saw her mouth open slightly like she was going to say something, then close again.

"I do love you," Alexia said slowly. "It's just…hard."

"What is hard?"

She waited a few seconds, as if tasting the words on her tongue. "Being around you."

The words hit you like a slap to the face.

You nodded reluctantly. Your hand went under the table, pinching your thigh, trying to keep yourself together. Trying to keep from crying.

"Being your sister, Alexia," you said, your words coming out more quieter than you meant them to. "It's like walking on glass. It hurts, it stings, and I don't know why I keep trying."

"I don't mean to hurt you," she said, emotionless. You couldnt read her face now.

"But you keep doing it," you said. "And I'm tired of feeling hurt."

Alexia's jaw tightened on the screen. She looked away for a moment, then back.

"Then why do you keep hurting yourself?" The question came out more impatiently now, frustrated.

You knew the focus was back on your finger. "Did you go to the hospital? How many times have you cut yourself since you moved? I thought you had it under control now."

"I do have it under control," you said. "I'm not a kid anymore. I know how to care for myself."

"You've been doing that since you were twelve," Alexia said, each word careful. "The first time I thought it was an accident, but then it kept happening and—"

"I have it under control," you said again, more firmly.

Alexia held the bridge of her nose through the screen.

"Have you told Mama about it?" she asked after a few moments of silence.

You shook your head. "No."

"Do you want me to tell her?"

"You already know the answer to that," you said.

You and Alexia had been having this same conversation for years now. The outcome was always the same.

"I have training," you said. "I need to go."

Alexia was quiet, reluctant to end the conversation there.

"Okay," she said, as if not believing you. "Take care of your wound, por favor. Put some alcohol on it, and don't forget to clean it."

"I know, Ale," you said, your voice a bit softer now. Tired. "Don't worry."

"Te amo," she said, and then turned off the phone.

The screen went black before you could say it back. You stared at your reflection in the dark phone screen for a moment.

Right now, you didn't know if you would have said it back anyway.

A/n: whenever I write youngest putellas, I feel like playing dolls once again hehe I hope you guys liked this chapter, I know it's a bit more heavy than the other ones. But I still enjoyed writing it, hope u enjoyed reading it.

It was your first time playing a full 90-minute game in the stadium, and you couldn't be more thrilled. Well, you could, if your period cramps weren't such a consistent bother to your existence.

The locker room was incredibly friendly, it was filled with that kind of sisterly chaos you had grown to love, with every single girl looking out for one another. And yet, your cycle wasn't something you were ready to discuss so openly yet.

You were still the new kid in many ways, having moved to Barcelona to the Barça B team two years ago.

Your parents only allowed you to move because the club swore you would have all the support you needed. Now, a year later, you were part of the first team, and players like Patri and Alexia treated you like a little sister, much like they did with Vicky and Syd.

Bit by bit, you were getting more involved in the team's dynamics and being pulled into the inner circle that involved dinner dates and game nights, the kind that made you feel less like a teammate and more like a friend. And for someone who had always leaned towards the more introverted side, it was incredible.

"Hey, pequeña!" Patri called, tossing a water bottle toward you the moment you complained about being thirsty. You caught it with a small wince as the movement pulled at your lower back. You were always more sensitive during your period. "What a game you played today!"

You smiled shyly and twisted the cap, taking a sip. "Thanks, Patri."

"That assist was amazing, nena," Kika said, sitting down beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. "Absolutely perfect. You will have to tell us your tricks later, yeah?"

You felt your cheeks warm at the praise and rolled your eyes playfully, nudging Kika with your shoulder.

Even after a few months, the compliments from your older teammates still made you a bit flustered.

It meant the world to you that the best athletes in women's sports were, one: playing side by side with you, and second: actually seeing your game, praising you and giving feedback when needed.

You wondered if you would ever get used to it; probably not.

"Great game, amiga," Vicky added, hugging Salma and then turning her attention to you. "You too! I think this calls for a sleepover at my house tonight. "What do you say? You, me, Syd, Serra, Aicha? The joventut of this club?"

Alexia, Patri and every other player who seemingly weren't included in the club's joventut rolled their eyes.

You wanted to say yes, but all you could think about was your own house, your own bed.

You had taken some ibuprofen before kickoff, but it was wearing off already. Between the cramps and the way your sports bra felt three sizes too small against your chest, you were completely worn out.

They didn't know you had just played the hardest ninety minutes of your life while bleeding, and honestly, you preferred it that way.

You had started that morning, right before arriving at the stadium, and while it wasn't unbearable, it was definitely uncomfortable, so you pushed through.

You just wanted to shower, take care of yourself, and go home to curl up with a heating pad. A nap was the only thing you wanted for the rest of the afternoon.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Patri sat beside you, pinching your cheeks. "Our little star"

You swatted her hand away, rolling your eyes but smiling. "I'm not that little," you protested. "I'll be eighteen in a few moments."

"You're a baby, a child", Cata said matter-of-factly from across the room. "Accept it; it will be better for everyone."

Before you could respond, there was a knock on the locker room door. The girls looked at each other, confused. The media interviews weren't for another twenty minutes, and Pere never came looking for them in the locker room. Aicha lowered the music as one of the staff members, Lídia, poked her head in.

"Hey girls," she said, smiling. "I need to talk to Y/n. She's here, right?"

You tilted your head at Lídia and raised your hand. "I'm here. What is it?"

"Can you come with me, please?" she asked, her attention fixed on you. "There's someone who needs to speak with you."

Your stomach dropped slightly. Lídia's voice was soft and calm, and nothing in her face indicated you should be nervous, but who would need to talk to you right now? Have you done something wrong? You glanced at your teammates, who looked equally puzzled.

"Is it the reporters?" Irene asked, standing behind you and placing a comfortable hand on your shoulder. "I thought we all agreed to speak to them later? At the conference only?"

"It's not the media, Irene," Lídia explained. "Just come here, Y/n, please."

Irene took her hand off your shoulder, and you looked at her. She nodded and tilted her chin towards the door, giving you the signal to follow Lídia.

As you stood up for the first time since walking into the locker room, you became acutely aware that you still hadn't had a chance to change your tampon. It was really starting to bother you.

The girls kept their eyes on you as you walked out of the corridor, coming face to face with Lídia and two other people — a woman and a man, both wearing official-looking credentials around their necks.

Lídia closed the door and patted you on the back. "I have to go fix something in the media room, but you do what they tell you, sí?"

She didn't even wait for you to answer, leaving you alone in the hallway with two people you had never seen in your life. You wondered if this was the correct protocol and if Lídia was following it correctly.

You looked up at them nervously. They were in suits. Why would they be in suits? Maybe you were in trouble. Maybe they were fifa representatives who had just learned you got a bad grade in maths, and now you were being banned from the game until-

"Hello," the woman said, offering a friendly smile. "You are Y/n, right? Barcelona player, number 3?"

You watched them for a moment. Should you say yes? Probably.

"Um, yeah?" Your voice came out smaller than you intended.

"Great! My name is Carmen, and this is Miguel. We are both from the doping control office," she said, holding out her credentials. The man, Miguel, did the same. "Those are our official identity numbers, and you can scan the QR code at the bottom to ensure we work for the DCO."

You looked at the credentials, then at each of their faces. You didn't even have a phone with you; how were you supposed to scan anything? Should you ask to use theirs?

Since you didn't respond, Carmem cleared her throat and continued. "Well, as part of the World Anti-Doping Committee, you have been selected for a random anti-doping test, as per the Fair Play rules."

Your eyes widened. Anti-doping? Now?

Oh no. Oh no no no. A doping test, no… They meant... urine sample. Which meant… Your period.

"What?"

Before they could respond, you heard footsteps behind you. The door opened, and Alexia appeared. It was like her captain's instincts were on alert whenever a younger player was panicking,

"Hello," Ale said cordially, positioning herself slightly between you and the officials, very protective. "Is everything okay? Where's Lídia?"

Alexia placed a hand on your shoulder, just like Irene had done, and looked down at you.

"Lídia's gone, I don't know when she'll be back," you said. "And they-"

"We are from the DCO," Carmen explained, the same professional tone in her voice. "Miss Y/n here had been selected for a doping test. I'm sure you know the drill by now, Putellas."

"Oh," Alexia nodded, her expression relaxing slightly. "Okay."

You wanted to punch Alexia (affectionately) for relaxing, because this was a very big problem, but you couldn't exactly say why.

"This is my first doping test!" you blurred out, trying to sound excited rather than panicked.

Alexia gave you an amused smile. "Oh, very exciting, huh?" she said, her tone gentle and slightly teasing.

"The process is quite straightforward," Miguel began. "We'll need both a urine and blood sample-"

"Oh, yes, of course," Alexia interrupted. "But can't she just do blood? She is a minor, under eighteen."

You seized on this, feeling very hopeful. "Yeah, can I just do blood?"

Carmen shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. The protocol allows for urine collection from athletes aged 12 and up; the age doesn't exempt anyone from the full testing procedure. She'll have to give us both samples."

Your heart sank.

"Oh," Alexia said, glancing down at you.

"But," Carmen continued, "because she's a minor, she'll need a legal guardian or chaperone present during the process."

"Why?" you asked, though your mind was already racing ahead to the horrifying implications.

Carmen's expression became more serious. "Because part of the doping protocol requires direct observation of the urine collection, right? I'll act as your witness, and your chaperone needs to be in the room with you to make sure there's no tampering and that you are as comfortable as you can be."

It took a moment for her words to register. "Wait... witness? What do you mean by witness?"

"Yes, witness," Carmen said gently. "I need to observe the urine leaving your body and going into the collection cup. It's to make sure the sample is not compromised."

Your face immediately flushed red. This was already mortifying, but with your period... Oh God. You looked up at Alexia, eyes wide. "What? Is that really-"

Alexia gave you a small, sympathetic smile. "Yeah... " It's not our best moment," she said quietly, a hint of apology in her voice.

"But-but I don't-" you stammered, trying to make sense of this situation since no one had ever been kind enough to explain how a dipping test really worked. "I thought you just... give me a cup and I'll go to the bathroom? Like, when I do a test for the club?"

Carmen, seeing your confusion and growing distress, softened her approach.

"When we get to the doping control room, I'll explain the procedure more thoroughly, yeah?" she said calmly. "But yes, part of the protocol includes observation of the collection. I need to watch the urine exiting your body and hitting the cup to guarantee the integrity of the sample, so we don't have any kind of contamination or false positives and negatives."

"So… you are going to watch me pee?" Your voice came out higher than normal. "That's what you are saying?"

"Exactly," Carmem said, smiling, seemingly happy that you finally understood.

"Like… you'll be in the bathroom with me?" You asked, just to be sure. "While I… pee in the cup? Like, will you watch it?"

"Exactly."

This couldn't be happening. Not today. Not while you were on your period.

You spun to look at Alexia, your face burning. "You never told me you guys went through this!"

Alexia had the grace to look sheepish. "Ay, well, I thought you knew? Everyone knows about doping tests, no? They explain this in La Masia."

"No!" you said, looking at her, feeling slightly angry. "No one has ever mentioned to me the watching part!"

Miguel cleared his throat. Of the two of them, Miguel was definitely the more impatient one. You didn't like him one bit.

"We do need to proceed fairly quickly," he said shortly. "And as mentioned, you'll need a legal guardian present for the entire process since you're a minor, so if you could please contact your mother or father."

Your stomach sank further. "I-" you stared, thinking about how many kilometres away your family was. "My parents aren't here. They live in another country… they couldn't come for the game because they had work."

Miguel and Carmen exchanged a glance, and you saw Carmen's face fall slightly. "OH... that is, uhm, a problem."

"Wait, is that bad? Not having my parents here?" You started to panic. "Is that like... a violation? Am I in trouble? I'm not going to be able to play anymore?"

"No, no!" Carmen said quickly. "You're not in trouble. We just need someone over eighteen who can act as your guardian for the procedure."

"Hey," Alexia said. "I'll go with you, it's fine. Do I need to sign something?"

Relief flooded through you, but then another horrifying thought occurred.

You turned to face Alexia fully, eyes wide. "Wait, you're not going to watch me pee, too, are you?!"

Alexia couldn't help but laugh, though it was gentle.

"No, no. I'll stay outside during that part, if you want me to," She explained. "But these tests have a lot of bureaucracy, a lot of paperwork and waiting around. I'll be there for everything else, just not... that part."

"Oh." You felt yourself relaxed, though your mind was still racing with panic about the period situation.

Carmen stepped away to make a quick phone call to verify that Alexia could serve as your guardian. You stood there, trying to figure out how to handle this.

Should you tell them you were on your period? Would they let you reschedule? You knew there was no such thing as rescheduling a doping test, but what if the blood contaminates the urine sample?

"This is so embarrassing," you muttered to Alexia.

"I know," she said sympathetically. "But it's quick, and then it's done."

You wanted to tell her it was worse than she thought, but you couldn't make the words come out, not here in the hallway.

Carmen returned, nodding. "Okay, it's approved. Putellas can serve as the guardian. Shall we go?"

You took a deep breath. "Yes, I think?"

..

The doping control room was small and very clinical-looking. Carmen went through all the paperwork, explaining your rights and the procedures. You barely heard half of it; your mind spinning, and you just let Alexia ask most of the questions for you.

After about fifteen minutes and two bottles of water that Carmen insisted you drink, you were definitely ready to provide a sample. Too ready. You could feel the pressure in your bladder, and you were suddenly very aware of the cramps and the whole situation going on.

"Okay," Carmen said, standing. "Let's go ahead and get started. Choose your collection cup."

You examined the three sealed cups on the desk, picking one at random with shaking hands. You verified that the seal was intact, checked the identification number, and every minuscule detail Carmen asked you to look at.

"Good. Now," Carmed said. "As you requested, Alexia will stay here. We shouldn't be more than ten minutes or so."

Alexia gave you an encouraging nod. "It's okay, you've got this. I'll wait here."

You followed Carmen to the adjacent bathroom inside the doping room; your legs felt like jelly. The bathroom was small, just a toilet, a sink, and harsh fluorescent lighting. Carmen closed the door behind you both, and suddenly the space felt impossibly tiny.

"I'm not allowed to lock the door," she explained. "But no one else besides you, me and Alexia is allowed in the doping room or the bathroom right now, alright? Miguel's at the door making sure no one walks in."

You nodded, heart pounding at your ribs.

"Okay," she said, her tone still professional. "First, wash your hands thoroughly. Make sure there is no dirt beneath your nails, or anything that could compromise the sample's purity."

You did as she asked, taking your time. Should you say something? You had to say something.

"Mhmm," you started, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I need to tell you something."

Carmen looked at you kindly. "What is it? Did… did you take something? If you did, it's okay, you can tell me."

You shook your head; your face was already burning.

"No, I didn't take anything. I'm clean. It's just that, I'm... I'm on my period. Right now."

Carmen's expression didn't change, as if she had heard it a million times.

"That's completely fine. It doesn't affect the test at all. Don't worry, we'll just make sure to add it to the file. Your club might be notified that blood was found in your urine, but this is just protocol and-"

Carmen really wasn't understanding. Right now, you couldn't care less about whether it would affect the test or not.

"But..." You couldn't meet her eyes. "You're going to... see..."

Carmen blinked at you, realising settling in.

"I understand this makes it more uncomfortable for you," she said gently. "But I promise you, it doesn't change anything for me. I'm a professional; I have done hundreds of these tests under all kinds of circumstances. This is very normal in women's football; there's no need to worry or be embarrassed."

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you hated it. You didn't want to be seen as a kid, but… this was a nightmare. An actual nightmare.

"I know it feels really embarrassing right now," Carmen continued, "but try to remember that this is a medical procedure. I'm not judging you or thinking anything about you. This is just my job, something I've been doing for a long time, I'm trained for this and other various situations."

You nodded slowly, not trusting yourself to speak. You clutched the handle of the urine cup as if it could give you some kind of strength.

"Now, if you are okay," she said. "I'll need to lower your shorts and underwear down to your knees. and try to lift your shirt if it gets in the way."

You heard her words, but it was like the command couldn't reach your muscles. Your hands moved to your waistband, but then they froze. You couldn't do this. You couldn't pull down your shorts and expose yourself, and well… everything while someone watched.

"Take your time," Carmen said gently. "It's okay, we will do it on your own time."

Then I'll never leave this bathroom, you thought.

You just stood there, completely frozen. Your hands trembled at your waistband. You felt the tears building behind your eyes.

"I can't," you whispered. "I'm really, really embarrassed."

Carmen's expression softened considerably, a look that seemed almost maternal. Suddenly, you really wanted your mom to be here. "I know, sweetie. This is hard."

"No one's ever seen me like this... I mean, except you know, for a few doctors, " you managed, your voice breaking slightly. "And this is... it's worse because I'm... you know..."

"On your period," Carmen finished for you. "I understand. That makes it feel even more difficult."

You nodded miserably, staring at the floor and feeling tears slip down your cheeks.

"Look," Carmen said softly, "think of me like a doctor, okay? This is part of my job. I do this all the time; in fact, they usually assign me to younger athletes specifically because they tend to be more shy about the process. I've done tests for plenty of athletes who were menstruating. It's extremely common. You're not the first, and you won't be the last."

You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, still not looking up.

"We have all the time in the world," Carmen continued. "Really. Once we enter your information in the system, the timing is completely up to you. There's no rush." She paused. "Do you want to go back out to the waiting room for a few minutes? Take a breath? Drink more water?"

You shook your head. Going back out would mean facing Alexia while crying, and then having to come back in and do this all over again.

"Okay," Carmen said. She was quiet for a moment, then added, "Look, I really, I'm not allowed not to watch. I have to keep my eyes on you the entire time. I know it's uncomfortable, but it's the protocol." Another pause. "Would it help if I called Alexia in here? She could stand by the door, not watching, but just be there support?"

Your mind raced. Having Alexia in here while you were exposed and on your period sounded impossibly mortifying. But being alone with a stranger felt worse somehow. You quickly realised that there was no way to make this situation better.

"No," you said quickly, your voice thick with tears. "She doesn't need to come in. But... Can I talk to her? Through the door?"

"Of course," Carmen said immediately. "Absolutely."

You moved closer to the door, wiping at your eyes again. You raised your voice, trying to keep it from shaking.

"Ale?"

The response was immediate. "Hi nena, everything okay? Do you want me to come in?"

Just hearing her voice made you feel steadier, even as fresh tears spilt over.

"No, it's just—" Your voice cracked. "I'm really embarrassed."

"Oh, cariño," Alexia's voice was so warm and understanding. "I know, I know it's embarrassing. But it's going to pass, okay?"

"It's worse than you think," you managed.

There was a pause. "What do you mean?"

You glanced at Carmen, who gave you an encouraging nod.

"I'm on my period," you said quietly.

"Oh." Alexia was quiet for a second, and you could practically hear her understanding flooding in. "Pequeña. I'm sorry. That does make it harder."

You let out a shaky breath, more tears falling.

"But listen to me," Alexia continued, her voice firm but kind. "Carmen is a professional. She's seen everything. Think about it like when the Barça doctors do examinations, okay? Sometimes we have to take our tops off in front of the medical staff. It's uncomfortable, but they're professionals. They are just doing their job."

"Yeah," you whispered. "I know."

"And I understand having your period makes it feel more… personal. But Carmen's not going to think anything about it. This is just like any other doctor's appointment." She paused. "And the faster we get through the test, the faster it's over, and you can go home and rest, sí?"

"Yeah," you said, feeling the tears finally start to slow down.

"I'm so proud of you for handling this, even though it's hard." You heard her shift against the door on the other side. "And I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be right here, just on the other side of this door, the whole time. Okay?"

"You promise?" you asked.

"Sí, I'm not going anywhere," Alexia promised firmly. "I'm right here."

You took several shaky breaths, trying to pull yourself together. Carmen waited patiently, her expression still kind.

"Okay," you whispered to yourself. "Okay."

Your hands were trembling violently as you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, unable to look at Carmen, unable to look at anything.

You pulled your shorts and underwear down to your knees in one quick motion, wanting to get it over with before you lost your nerve completely.

The string from your tampon is probably visible, too. Your face burned so hot you thought you might actually pass out from shame.

"You're doing great," Carmen said quietly, maintaining her professional tone. "Really great. Now, hold the cup like this—" you heard the plastic rattle as she demonstrated, though you still couldn't open your eyes, "—and position yourself over the toilet."

This was, without question, the most mortifying moment of your entire life. You forced your eyes open, staring determinedly at the wall tile, focusing on a small crack in the grout. Anything to avoid thinking about what was happening.

"Whenever you're ready," Carmen said. "There's no rush."

But there was a rush, because you needed this to be over. You needed to get out of this bathroom and never think about this moment again.

Your body, however, was not cooperating. Despite the pressure in your bladder, despite drinking all that water, you couldn't go. You stood there, frozen, tears sliding down your cheeks.

"It's okay," Carmen said gently. "This is really common, especially with first tests. And especially when you're already feeling vulnerable. Try to take some deep breaths. Think about something else. Running water sometimes helps. Should I turn on the tap?"

"No," you mumbled.

You closed your eyes again, trying to breathe, trying to relax, trying to pretend you were literally anywhere else in the world. After what felt like an eternity, you finally managed to start. The sound seemed impossibly loud in the bathroom.

"Good, that's good," Carmen said quietly. "Keep it in the cup. That's it. You are doing perfectly."

You had never been more aware of a bodily function in your entire life. The blood mixed with the urine in the cup, turning it a light pink colour that made you want to die of embarrassment. And you knew Carmen could see it. Could see everything.

"That's enough," Carmen said after what felt like forever. "You can stop now. Go ahead and finish in the toilet if you need to."

You did, then pulled your clothes back up with clumsy hands while Carmen sealed the cup.

"See? All done with that part." Carmen's smile was genuine. "You did amazing. Let's wash your hands and head back out."

You washed your hands, your face still burning, unable to meet her eyes.

Back in the main room, Alexia stood up immediately. She took one look at your red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained face, and her expression melted into sympathy.

"Come here, nena", she said softly, opening her arms.

You went to her, and she hugged you tightly, one hand rubbing your back. "You did it," she murmured. "I'm so proud of you."

You didn't respond, still looking down at your shoes. Carmen was busy setting up for the blood draw, giving you a moment of privacy with Alexia.

"The hardest part is over," Ale said quietly. "Just the blood now, and you have done that a hundred times."

You nodded against her shoulder, then pulled back, wiping at your eyes.

The rest of the process went smoothly. You divided the urine sample into the A and B bottles, very aware of the pink tinge but trying your best not to look at it.

The blood draw was easy, barely even a pinch. Finally, after what felt like hours, Carmen handed you copies of all the paperwork.

"Keep these to yourself, yeah?" She said, "They are the proof that you went through the protocol and everything was done accordingly. You did incredibly well. Especially for your first time, and under such difficult circumstances. Hopefully, the next time will be smoother."

"Thank you," you managed, your voice small.

Alexia stood, her hand on your back. "Come on. Let's get you back."

..

The corridor felt like the most peaceful place on Earth after what you had just been through. You walked in silence for a moment, Alexia's steady presence beside you.

"That was the worst experience of my entire life," you finally said.

"I'm sorry," Alexia said softly. "I wish I could warn you better, or that anyone had. Especially..." She paused. "If I had known you had your period, I would have prepared you more for how that would feel, or talked to Carmen myself."

"How do you deal with it?" you asked quietly. "When do you have to do it while on your period?"

Alexia sighed. "Honestly? It's happened once or twice with me, but it never stops being uncomfortable. But you do get more used to the procedure in general, which helps. You just have to remind yourself that they really are professionals, they don't care that much about anything other than getting the sample."

"She saw everything," you said miserably. "I'm gonna die."

"I know." Alexia squeezed your shoulder. "But she's going to go home tonight and not think about it at all. Because to her, it's just part of her job. She meant it when she said she's done this hundreds of times… and I swear, no one had ever died of embarrassment over a doping test."

"Yet," you said.

She rolled her eyes. "Yet."

At the locker room door, Alexia paused. "Do you want to get in? Or do you need a small break here first?"

You shook your head. You just wanted to be around your teammates, your family.

The locker room had quieted down a bit, though there was still music playing in the background. Several teammates looked up as you entered.

"How was it?" Patri called out, "We heard through the door, a doping test, right?"

"Yeah… and it was horrible," you said flatly. "Traumatic. Worst day of my life."

"Come here, pequeña." Kika patted the bench beside her. "Was it really that bad?"

You sat down and immediately felt Kika's arm around your shoulders. Pina appeared on your other side. "Yes. It was."

"The first doping test is always rough," Ona said sympathetically from across the room. "It will get better, though."

"It was... really bad," you said quietly.

Alexia sat down nearby. "But she handled it like a champ," she said.

"Why was it so hard?" Vicky asked. "The stripping down part? Or was there something else?"

"Well… I'm on my period," your face flushing all over again. "So that was horrible enough."

"Ayy, pobrecita," several voices said at once, and suddenly, you were smothered in affection.

"That's the absolute worst," Pina said, handing you a protein bar seemingly just because you looked like you needed it. "I had to do one once while on mine. I wanted to die."

"It's so much more uncomfortable," Ona agreed while nodding.

"Why does no one warn you about this?" you muttered

"Because thinking about it ahead of time just makes it worse, maybe?" Irene said pragmatically. "But hey, at least it's over now."

You dropped your head into your hands. "I'm never getting tested again."

"Unfortunately," Alexia said gently, "you probably will. But at least now you know what to expect."

"I'm requesting a blood-only test next time," you muttered through your fingers.

"Doesn't work like that," Cata teased with a small smile. "Unfortunately."

You groaned.

"Come on," Kika said, standing and pulling you up with her. "Let's get you showered, changed and home. You need rest and a heating pad."

As you gathered your things, surrounded by teammates who understood exactly what you had been through, the humiliation finally started to fade. You were still exhausted and a little sore, but as you looked around, you realised you had people who you could count on.

..

A/n: I hope you guys liked it! <3

Olga comes home from the airport in the late afternoon and finds a sight that makes her heart skip a beat. The TV playing softly in the background, two empty bowls on the coffee table, and you and Ale curled up on the sofa. She has grown so accustomed to it that she can vividly imagine the build-up to this scene.

You two coming home from your respective trainings, Alexia preparing a quick lunch (“too healthy” – you bantered) that you decided (insisted) in eating it in the living room while rewatching an old Barça game from when Ale was young (“you just wanna make fun of me”, “well yes, if you get to see me do teenage mistakes I should be able to do it too”). 

Ale has not yet mastered saying no to you.

Your head moving to her shoulder but fighting sleep (“i’m not a baby ale, I don’t need a nap”). You falling asleep either way, and Ale following you shortly after, with no option to move without disrupting you.

Her soft, sleepy girls.

She juggles her suitcase over to their room, careful of the noise, changes into comfy clothes after a quick shower, and joins you on the sofa. You rouse from your slumber when she settles on the other side of Ale.

“Hey Olgui.” You mumble, eyes still glazed from sleep. Your jostling wakes Ale up, too.

“Hey, amor.”

Yeah, Olga loves your sleepy smiles when you see her. Practically identical expressions that should not be possible with your lack of common genetics and the little time you’ve been in each other’s lives. 

Without a word, you tug on her arm so she stands up and switches seats, pushing her to sit on the other side of you this time. You grasp each of their hands by your sides, and move your head from Ale’s to Olga’s shoulder.

“Hey, vaya morro. She’s my girlfriend, you know?” Ale stares at you with an incredulous look.

“Quit the dramatics, Ale, you’ll get your cuddles at night, so I get her now.” You even stick your tongue out at her.

“Do I get a say in this?” jokes Olga.

“No” you say in unison, and it makes all three of you smile.

As the silence settles, Ale and Olga share a look over your head, knowing this is the perfect opportunity to have a pending conversation they have been preparing for.

“Hey, solet.” Ale starts. You respond with a hum.

“How do you usually spend the holidays?”

“Well, it’s always been just me and the avis. Not too different from any other day, just with carols on the TV and a very specific holiday menu.”

“Mmmh, and when do you get presents, bebè?” Olga starts playing with your hair as she asks, making your shoulders relax.

“The 6th, for Reyes. Nothing significant; they couldn’t afford much on their pensions. I would always ask for my football gear then.” you respond, lower, softer, self-conscious.

“So smart, solet.” mumbles Ale against your head, leaving a kiss at your hairline. You preen at the praise.

“What do you think about doing it here this year, huh? We’ll get everyone here, Ale’s family, my mami, your grandparents.”

“How, um, how would that work?”

“Well, my family has always celebrated on the 24th and Ale’s on the 25th. What we did last year was host here on the 24th, and then go down to Ale’s uncle house on the 25th with her extended family. As we didn’t do much for the 6th, just went down to Eli’s to exchange gifts, then to my mom’s for lunch. But we could do it here this year, get everyone over for lunch so it’s easier for your grandparents and you to be with us.”

“You’ve thought a lot about this, huh?”

“Yes, solet. However, we also wanted to discuss it with you. Our priority is for you to be comfortable and have a good time. So if any of it looks like too much, we don’t have to do it.”

“How big is your family thing, Ale, on the 25th?”

“A little over a dozen people usually. My grandma will be there, my aunts and uncles, and some cousins with their kids. They’re all excited to meet you. Mami has been bragging.” That makes you crack a smile.

“Yeah, I could do that.”

“It’s decided, then.” They’re both smiling at you so widely, all three of you relaxing.

“We’ve got a plan then. Now, dinner?” Olga uses your knee to get up from the couch, moving towards the kitchen.

“Pizza!” You yell, ready to cash in a reward.

“From the nice, new place by the plaza? Ale asks.

“Yes!”

“No.” She responds with a fake serious expression.

“But Ale!” you pout.

“Fine.” she rolls her eyes, but also hides a smile.

“You really need to learn how to say no to her.” Olga yells from the kitchen, once again amused at your banter.

It’s you and Ale this time who share a secret smile, practically reading each other’s minds, then proceed to run up to her and attack her with tickling. Giggling fills the room, and you can’t help but think that your new plans for the holidays are the best way to end a year filled with so much change.

“You’ve got everything you need, right?”

“Yes, Ale.”

“And you know you can call me anytime and I’ll come, right?”

“Yes, Ale.”

“And –” you cover her mouth with your hand,

“Can we knock, please? We’ve been at the door for like five minutes.”

Before she can answer you, the door opens from the other side.

“I thought I heard you two bickering.” Jana smirks from the doorframe. Ale rolls her eyes, and you smile shily at her.

Ale’s teammates, especially the younger ones, have been a growing presence in your life since that first team bonding night. Coming by the house, and in the past few weeks, even joining Ale at your games. It still came as a surprise to you, though, when Ale came back from training with an invitation for you. Jana had planned a Girls’ Night in her apartment to celebrate the end of classes and exams with her fellow teammates that were still suffering through university.

She had specifically requested Ale to ask you to join them, apparently eager to get to know you better, “considering we all know she’ll be in this team sooner rather than later”. You had blushed when hearing that part and had been equal parts nervous and excited to accept the invitation.

“I can’t believe I’m leaving you here with Jana as the oldest and most responsible one.”

“Yeah, I love you too Ale.” Jana responded, rolling her eyes.

“You know I do.” Ale left a quick kiss on her forehead. “But you better return her tomorrow just as I left her, all clear?”

“Yes, Capi. Now go, no fossils in my apartment tonight.”

“You’ll laugh less when the fossil makes you run laps next training.” Then she turned to you.

“Have fun, yeah? And call me if you need anything at all.” She wraps you in a tight hug and kisses your head softly.

“Yes, Ale.” you mumble into her shoulder. Before you realise it, though, Jana has circled her arm around your shoulders and pulled you to her side.

“She’s ours now. Fuig!”

Jana closes the door on her.

“Be good!” You two hear from across the wood.

Then, Jana turns to face you, a wide smile on her face.

“The rest will be here soon. Let me show you around.” She pulls you into the apartment. “You can drop your bag off anywhere.”

You two move into the living room.

“We’ll be hanging here tonight.” You can tell, the room looks nice and cozy, although a bit crowded right now with the mattresses covering the floor.

“The bathroom is a the end of the hallway, past the two rooms. And the kitchen is —.” She realises she’s lost your attention. Your eyes are fixed on the glass to the right of the TV. Medals, trophies, and pictures of finals with cups bigger than herself.

You don’t notice Jana moving close to your side, both of you now facing the cabinet. 

“You’ll be there with us soon. I know so.” You blush at her words, unsure how to respond. She continues, though, sensing your hesitation. “I joined the first team when I was really young. I know how unbelievable it feels to even consider it a possibility. But trust me, you will.”

She holds your shoulders again, like she did when she pulled you into the apartment.

“And I, for one, am really excited about you joining us.”

You look up at her now, surprised at her words.

“It’s always amazing to get more players coming up from La Masia. You’ll do great.” Yeah, you’re definitely blushing now.

“Besides, I’ve always wanted to have a little sister. Vicky doesn’t count, she’s more of a… feral pet.” She’s smirking now.

“I heard you!” comes from the door, where Vicky and Salma are coming in.

“You could’ve knocked.” She yells, sharing an amused smile with you.

“You gave me the key.” Vicky sing-songs as she enters the room and jumps on her back.

“And I can take it away.” Jana pushes her off her back, but passes her arm through her shoulders like she had done to you, leaving a kiss on the side of her head.

“Yeah, yeah.” They’re both smiling now, and it makes you crave that same easiness and camaraderie.

Vicky then turns to you, and she and Salma move closer to where you two are standing.

“Jana’s a tad intense, but she’s right. And being the youngest in the team is a lot, but we’re super excited for you. And I’ll finally stop being the little kid.” Vicky rambles, pulling you into a hug, the action and words leaving you without words.

Salma lets out a breathy laugh after shaking your hand, more hesitant to invade your personal space than the other two had been.

“Someone save Alexia, with you three, who knows how she’ll say no to any of your shenanigans.”

Before you can respond to her, more voices come from the door.

“Hello!” Kika and Esmee enter, this time actually knocking beforehand.

“Come in! We’re plotting against Alexia.” Jana responds, again smiling mischievously and winking at you, like you’re already partners-in-crime.

“So I came in right at the perfect moment.” Kika hugs everyone in the room, leaving you for last. She envelops you completely in a tight hug, one that you know conveys a similar sentiment to Vicky’s and Jana’s words earlier.

Behind her is Esmee, who comes in more relaxed, but doesn’t hesitate to also pull you into a short one-armed hug like she’s done to the other girls. She’s quick to jump into teasing her teammates, though.

“Are they being too much?” 

“Hey! We’re just being proper older sisters.” Vicky protests.

“Yeah, by annoying her.” Esmee responds, 

“No no, they’re being nice. I promise.” You rebut quickly, feeling the need to defend the others, even if you know she’s teasing.

“Sssh, you don’t have to lie to me.” She continues.

You laugh properly now, amused at the whole scene, happy at the ease with which they’re pulling you into their bubble.

“Ona?” Salma asks when Jana closes the door, surprised they’re not also waiting for their other teammate.

“Nu’uh, she’s abandoned us for London this weekend.” Jana answers, rolling her eyes but with a smile.

“Booo!” respond Vicky and Kika.

“I know. I am sure she’s disgustingly happy without us.” Jana continues. You know you’re missing some context right now. It heightens your feeling as an outsider, but there is no time for you to get nervous before they’re pulling you back in.

“Come on, bebita, you’re choosing take out, and then we’re giving you the full scoop about the team gossip.” Vicky addresses you now as she pulls your arm to the sofa, quick to realize your moment of hesitation.

“I’m only two years younger than you.” you protest, in a whiny voice that actually makes you sound younger.

“Exactly, a baby.” she teases, but her hand is still holding your arm, and her smile is warm, not mocking.

“Oh, please. You’re both babies. But Vicky is right, petita, and you’re not escaping interrogation. We need to know all about you.” Jana ends your short squabble, once again smiling warmly at you.

At some point, Ale’s car should stop being witness to your anxious habits. Your leg bounces incessantly. One of your hands taps a random pattern on the door, the other raised to your mouth, biting your nails. When Ale realises, she grabs the hand at your mouth and brings it down to your thigh, where she holds it.

“Relax, solet. Everyone’s excited to have you there, and you’ll do great.” She smiles over at you as you stop for a red light.

“But –”

“No buts, just… trust me, okay? Nothing is going to happen to you with me there.”

You nod at her as the car moves, and she pulls her focus back on the road. Your leg still bounces, but your hands are calmer, both now holding the hand that Ale has not moved from your thigh as the Ciutat Esportiva comes into sight.

Christmas felt like the confirmation of your new life, like celebrating a milestone. Even Ale’s family celebration, although slightly overwhelming, solidified your space in their life. Everyone had been so excited to meet you, to see Ale’s new role, and you had ended up fitting right in –plotting with Alba to annoy Alexia, playing with the younger kids, blushing when their grandma called you ‘the prettiest girl’. 

Now a new year has begun, one that you have no idea what it will bring. And for the first time in your life, that is an exciting thought instead of an anxious one. Mainly because of this right here, everyone reunited at Olga and Ale’s house, which is starting to feel more and more like yours, too.

“Here, solet. I have one more thing for you.” Alexia says as she hands you one more box. You’ve already opened too many, really. New gear, nice clothes, some trinkets you’d just wanted but never asked for.

“I thought we were done?” you mutter.

“Just one more.” she pleads, and she’s pouting at you like she’s the teenager from the two of you.

“You have to understand her, she’s actually limited herself on how much she could have gotten you.” Alba teases her sister.

“Oh, please, you almost got her the whole store!” Ale responds to her.

“Yeah, yeah, you are both shopaholics, especially if it’s for other people. Now, let solet open it.” Olga finishes the argument for them.

You finally open it, following her guidance. You’re confused, though, when it’s finally unwrapped.

“Ale, I already have my training kit.”

“Yeah, but this one is, technically, different. It's a family thing, getting a new kit for a big milestone” Her eyes are shining, and she’s biting her lip not to smile too wide. But you’re still so confused, so she only receives a frown back.

“I received a call a few days ago. That, is a first-team training kit.”

Your ears ring, and your heart doesn’t know how to hold a normal rhythm anymore. But you need to hear her say the whole thing, need to confirm properly what you’ve fought so long for.

“You’re joining us after the holiday break, you’re one of the B team kids in dynamic for the remainder of the season.” She’s smiling so wide now, a full reflection of your own joy.

You launch yourself at her, hide your face against her shoulder like you’ve grown so accustomed to. One of your newest happy places. Around you, all of your family –yes, family– is congratulating you, screaming and squealing in delight. Your grandparents are hugging Eli, and Olga and Alba are already plotting about supporting you both in matches, as you can see from Ale’s shoulder.

But you and Ale hold onto each other. A sentiment shared with the only other person who fully understands how you’re feeling right now. A reflection of who Alexia was one day. A promise of the future, of what is to come for you together.

The year has just begun, and it is already so different from what it once was.

Training is intense. Everyone is faster than you, more skilled, more ready, attuned to the sets and each other. And even if you had met everyone already, they were still so intimidating. All focused, all doing their best. Especially Ale, who was footballer Alexia, Ballon d’Or Alexia, Captain Alexia. Not, well, your Ale. By the time all is over, you’re more exhausted than ever. And for the first time in a while, you doubt. 

You sit alone for a moment outside in the hall, needing the silence to organize your thoughts. Because what if it’s always this hard, if you’re not exactly made for this, if it’s too soon, if–

Before your head can continue to spiral, someone slides to the floor in front of you. You’re not sure who you expected, but definitely not her. Irene is sitting across from you, and she’s looking at you with an expression that she knows exactly what you’re thinking about.

“It’s a lot, huh?”

You nod, unsure if you can trust yourself to speak without crying.

“It was a lot for all of us, too.” You want to believe her, knowing she’s probably right, but it’s so hard. So she continues when you don’t answer.

“You don’t have to believe me. You just have to let yourself experience it all. Just trust one thing: we want you here. Your team wants you here. And that will be enough.” You nod and smile at her words. Less closed off, more calm.

“Thank you.” You speak clearly, grateful.

“Of course. You’re good, for the team, for her.” That brings a smile to your face, and you reply with warmth. “She’s good for me.” 

“I know that, too. Now, let’s go to the locker room so we can all leave.” She gestures to the end of the hall, and you follow her like a duckling.

All the noise hits you at once when you reach it. The first to intercept you are Jana and Vicky, one on each side of you. They congratulate you on the good work and tease you and each other about funny mistakes you’ve all made in the past couple of hours. Irene’s words have helped so much that you take it all in stride and even jump in with your own jokes and teasing.

Once you’ve changed, a hand taps your shoulder. You turn around.

“Home?” Ale asks, eyes soft.

“Home.” You nod, as if that word is simple and not an evolving concept that grows every day since you met her.

N/A

I'm following a timeline so you get christmas in june :))

don't fully know how i feel about it which is why it took me longer to publish it but i think im sufficiently satisfied now. it's definitely my fluffiest long piece, but i hope it's not too much.

next part should come out soon, it's already half-written and it's been on my drafts the longest.

as always, I love asks and requests in my inbox, feel free to leave your thoughts there!

It was a rare night off, no training tomorrow, no obligations, no reason to be anywhere or do anything except exist in this moment with friends she'd known for years. The kind of night where the conversation flowed as freely as the wine, where laughter came easy and inhibitions dissolved with each passing hour.

The bar itself was exactly the kind of place Alexia loved. Small and intimate, tucked away on a side street most tourists never found. Exposed brick walls covered with vintage posters. Dim lighting from Edison bulbs hanging at different heights. The warm hum of Spanish conversations mixing with the occasional clatter of plates from the kitchen.

They'd started the evening talking about normal things. Gemma's new job. Miriam's upcoming trip to Greece. Carla's ongoing saga with her apartment renovation that seemed to have no end in sight.

Safe topics. Easy topics.

The kind of conversation that required no thought, just the comfortable back and forth of people who'd known each other long enough that silence wasn't awkward and honesty wasn't scary.

But as the wine kept flowing and the plates kept arriving and the night stretched on, the topics shifted. Got more personal. More intimate. The way they always did when this particular group got together and let their guards down.

Miriam was the instigator, as she usually was after her third glass. She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her dark eyes bright with mischief and wine.

"Okay, okay," she said, her voice carrying that slight looseness that came from good Rioja. "I have a question."

"Oh no," Gemma said immediately, setting down her wine glass with exaggerated care. "Drunk Miriam has questions. This is either going to be amazing or terrible."

"It's a GOOD question," Miriam defended, waving her hand dismissively. "A very good question. One we've all been dying to ask but were too polite."

"Since when are you polite?" Carla asked, grinning.

"Exactly," Miriam said. "Which is why I'm asking. I want to know," she pointed directly at Alexia with her wine glass, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim, "about you and Jay. The first time."

Alexia's face immediately flushed, a warmth spreading from her chest up to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with the sudden spotlight of attention.

"What about it?" she asked, trying to play it cool, buying time by taking another sip from her glass.

The wine was good. Full bodied and smooth, exactly the kind she liked. She focused on the taste, the feeling of it sliding down her throat, anything to avoid the three pairs of eyes watching her with undisguised interest.

"Was it good?" Carla asked, leaning in too now, abandoning any pretense of subtlety. "Because you two are so intense now. Like, every time we see you together it's like the rest of the world doesn't exist. I want to know if it started that way or if you built up to it."

"It was..." Alexia started, then stopped, her cheeks getting redder. She could feel the heat of it, knew they could see it. "It was very good."

"Very good?" Miriam pressed, her eyes lighting up. "Or like, mind blowing, life changing, saw stars and forgot your own name good?"

Alexia laughed, the sound slightly strangled, and switched to Spanish without thinking. "Dios mío, you actually want me to talk about this? Here? Now?"

"YES!" all three of them said simultaneously, loud enough that a couple at the next table glanced over.

"We're your friends!" Gemma added, reaching across to squeeze Alexia's hand. "And we're drunk! This is literally what drunk friends do! Share embarrassing intimate details and then pretend we don't remember them in the morning."

"Except we always remember," Carla said.

"We ALWAYS remember," Miriam confirmed with a grin.

Alexia laughed again, a genuine one this time, and leaned back against the worn leather of the booth. She picked up her wine glass, drained the last of it, and set it down with a decisive clink.

"Okay," she said, her accent thickening slightly the way it always did when wine loosened her tongue. "Okay fine. But this stays between us. I mean it. This never leaves this table."

"Obviously," Miriam said, making an exaggerated crossing motion over her heart.

"Completely confidential," Carla agreed, nodding seriously even as her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

"Our lips are sealed," Gemma promised.

What none of them noticed, what none of them were paying any attention to in their wine happy focus on the conversation, was Alexia's phone. It was sitting on the table next to the wine glasses and empty plates, the screen suddenly illuminated with an outgoing call.

To Jay.

Pocket dialled completely by accident when Alexia had shifted in her seat, her hip pressing against her phone in just the right way to unlock it and call the last person she'd texted, before she had placed it on the table.

The screen glowed softly in the dim bar light, Jay's name clearly visible, the call timer already counting up.

But no one was looking at it.

At home, Jay was sprawled on the couch in her pajamas, the oversized kind that were soft from a hundred washes, halfway through an episode of some crime procedural she wasn't really paying attention to. Her attention span was shit tonight, her ADHD brain bouncing from thought to thought, unable to settle on anything.

She'd tried reading. Made it three pages before her mind wandered.

Tried scrolling through Instagram. Got bored after two minutes.

Tried actually watching the show. Realised she had no idea what was happening despite having watched twenty minutes of it.

She was thinking about texting Alexia, just to check in, when her phone rang.

Alexia's name lit up the screen, accompanied by the photo Jay had set as her contact picture. Alexia mid laugh at training, her whole face bright with joy, those lines around her eyes that Jay loved so much clearly visible.

She smiled automatically, the way she always did when Alexia called, and answered without hesitation.

"Hey babe," she said, already grinning in anticipation of hearing Alexia's voice. "Having fun?"

But instead of Alexia's voice responding directly to her, instead of the intimate one on one conversation she'd expected, she heard muffled sounds. Voices, multiple voices, talking over each other. Laughter in the background. The ambient noise of a busy restaurant or bar. The clink of glasses and the low murmur of other conversations.

Then Miriam's voice, distant but clear enough to understand.

"So tell us! The first time with Jay! We want details!"

Jay's eyebrows shot up so fast it was almost comical.

Oh.

Oh this was going to be interesting.

She should hang up. She should absolutely hang up right now and let Alexia have her private conversation with her friends. That would be the right thing to do. The respectful thing. The thing a good girlfriend would do.

But even as she thought it, even as her thumb hovered over the red end call button, she found she couldn't quite make herself press it.

Her curiosity won out over her better judgment.

She turned down the TV until it was silent, shifted to sit up properly on the couch, held the phone closer to her ear, and settled in to listen.

This was probably wrong. This was definitely an invasion of privacy. But she was going to do it anyway.

Back at the bar, Alexia had taken a fortifying breath and was beginning her story.

"Okay so," she said, and Jay could hear the wine in her voice immediately. That slight looseness to her words, the way her accent got thicker, the way she spoke just a little bit slower. "We'd been dancing around each other for MONTHS. Like, months and months. Everyone on the team knew we liked each other. Mapi was literally threatening to lock us in a storage closet until we figured it out."

"Classic Mapi," Gemma said with a laugh.

"So classic," Alexia agreed. "And the sexual tension was just ridiculous at that point. Like, we'd brush hands reaching for the same ball in training and I'd feel it everywhere. She'd look at me a certain way and I'd forget what I was saying. It was bad."

"But in a good way," Carla clarified.

"In the best way," Alexia confirmed. "Because I wanted her so badly. I'd never wanted anyone like that. Where just being near them made your whole body aware of them."

Jay's chest felt warm hearing that. She remembered those months too. Remembered the tension, the wanting, the way every interaction with Alexia had felt charged with possibility.

"And then we finally went on a real date," Alexia continued, her voice taking on a softer quality. "Like, an actual proper date. Not just hanging out after training or grabbing coffee. A real date where we both knew what it was."

"Where did you go?" Miriam asked.

"That Italian place near the beach," Alexia said. "The one with the outside seating and the candles on every table. She made a reservation, showed up at my apartment with flowers, pulled out my chair for me. Very romantic. Very thoughtful. Very Jay."

Jay smiled, remembering. She'd been so nervous that night, had changed her outfit three times, had asked Lucy for advice on which flowers to bring.

"And the whole dinner I'm thinking, is this really happening? Is this real? Because I'd imagined it so many times and now it was actually happening and she was sitting across from me looking so beautiful and being so charming and I couldn't quite believe it was real."

"That's so sweet," Gemma said softly.

"It was," Alexia agreed. "And we had wine with dinner, just enough to relax but not enough to be drunk. And we talked about everything. Our families, our careers, what we wanted from life. And the whole time she kept looking at me like I was the only person in the restaurant. Like I was the only person in the world."

Jay felt her throat get tight. She remembered that too. Remembered not being able to take her eyes off Alexia. Remembered thinking she was the most beautiful person she'd ever seen.

"And then we left," Alexia said. "And we walked along the beach for a while. And she held my hand. And it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like our hands were made to fit together."

"You're killing me with the romance here," Carla said.

"I'm getting to the good part," Alexia promised, and Jay could hear the smile in her voice. "So we walked for maybe thirty minutes. Just talking and holding hands and stopping occasionally for her to kiss me."

"Occasionally?" Miriam asked skeptically.

"Frequently," Alexia corrected, laughing. "Very frequently. Every few steps basically. Because apparently once we started kissing she couldn't stop. Which was fine with me because I didn't want to stop either."

Jay remembered that too. Remembered kissing Alexia under the streetlights, the sound of the waves in the background, the way Alexia had tasted like wine and happiness.

"And then we got back to her apartment," Alexia continued, her voice dropping slightly lower. "And we were standing in the hallway outside her door and she looked at me and said, can I kiss you? Like she hadn't been kissing me all night. So polite. So careful. So English."

The three women laughed.

"And I was like, if you don't kiss me right now I'm going to die," Alexia said. "So she did. And that kiss was different from the ones on the beach. That kiss was... intense. Like she'd been holding back before and now she wasn't. And I could feel it everywhere. Every nerve ending just lit up."

Jay's face was warm now, remembering that kiss. Remembering the feeling of Alexia pressed against her apartment door, the way she'd made these small sounds that drove Jay crazy.

"And we made it inside somehow," Alexia said. "Barely. Kept stopping to kiss more. Hit every wall between the door and the bedroom basically. By the time we actually got to the bed we were already half undressed and completely desperate."

"This is getting good," Miriam said.

"It gets better," Alexia promised. "Because we got to the bed and for a second we just looked at each other. Like, this is happening. This is really happening. And I was nervous suddenly. Because I wanted it to be good. I wanted it to be perfect. And what if it wasn't?"

"But it was," Gemma guessed.

"It was so perfect," Alexia confirmed, her voice going soft again. "Because she didn't rush. Even though we'd been building to this for months and we were both so ready, she didn't rush. She took her time. She kissed me for what felt like hours. Just kissing. Exploring. Learning what I liked."

Jay was barely breathing now, listening to this, remembering it from her own perspective. Remembering how nervous she'd been, how determined to make it good for Alexia.

"And then when she finally started touching me," Alexia continued, and her accent was so thick now Jay almost had trouble understanding her. "Dios mío. She was so good. So careful but so confident. Like she knew exactly what she was doing. Like she'd studied me or something."

"Had she?" Carla asked.

"I mean, not literally," Alexia said, laughing. "But she was so attentive. So focused on me. On what I was responding to. On what made me make sounds or move a certain way. Like I was this puzzle she was solving and she was determined to figure it out."

"That's actually really hot," Miriam observed.

"It was SO hot," Alexia agreed emphatically. "Because I felt so seen. So paid attention to. Like nothing else existed for her except making me feel good."

Jay's heart was pounding now. She'd never heard Alexia describe that night to anyone. Had never heard this perspective on something that had been so important to both of them.

"And she kept checking in," Alexia said. "Kept asking if things were okay. If I liked what she was doing. Is this good? Do you want more? Should I stop? Very communicative. Very aware that this was our first time together and she wanted it to be right."

"That's sweet," Gemma said.

"It was sweet," Alexia agreed. "But also really sexy. Because it meant she cared. It meant this wasn't just about the physical for her. It meant she wanted me to feel good. Wanted to learn me. Wanted to make it perfect."

"And did she?" Miriam asked. "Make it perfect?"

There was a pause. Jay could almost picture Alexia taking another sip of wine, gathering her thoughts.

"She made me come three times," Alexia said finally, matter of factly. "The first time was with her hands. And I remember thinking, okay that was good, that was really good, I can't believe that just happened. And then she kept going. And I was like, wait, we're not done? And she just smiled at me and said, not even close."

All three women made sounds of appreciation.

Jay was grinning now, remembering the look on Alexia's face when she'd said that.

"And the second time was with her mouth," Alexia continued, her voice getting quieter but more intense. "And I swear I saw stars. Like, actual stars. I couldn't remember my own name. I couldn't remember what planet I was on. I was just completely gone. Destroyed. Ruined for anyone else ever."

"After two times?" Carla asked.

"After two times," Alexia confirmed. "But she wasn't done. Because apparently Jay has stamina like you wouldn't believe. And focus. So much focus. Like she could do that for hours and not get tired or bored or distracted."

Jay felt her face flush with pride.

"And the third time," Alexia said, her voice almost reverent now. "The third time she used both. Hands and mouth. And I think I actually died. I think I left my body. I think I transcended to another plane of existence."

"Jesus," Gemma breathed.

"Exactly," Alexia said. "And after, when I could finally think again, when I could finally remember how to speak, I just looked at her and said, where did you learn to do that?"

"What did she say?" Miriam asked, clearly invested now.

"She said, I didn't learn it anywhere. I just paid attention to you," Alexia said softly. "Which made me fall in love with her right there. Like, immediately. Completely. No going back."

Jay's eyes were stinging now.

"That's beautiful," Gemma said.

"It was," Alexia agreed. "And then she held me. For like an hour. Just held me. Ran her fingers through my hair. Kissed my forehead. Made me feel so safe and loved and cherished. And I remember thinking, oh no. Oh no this is it. This is the person. I'm never going to want anyone else ever again."

"Did you tell her?" Carla asked.

"Not that night," Alexia admitted. "I was too overwhelmed. Too emotional. I just kissed her and told her that was amazing and she smiled at me and said we should do it again sometime."

The three women laughed.

"Very smooth," Miriam observed.

"Very Jay," Alexia said fondly. "Always so casual about things that are actually huge. Like she didn't just change my entire life."

"But you told her eventually," Gemma prompted.

"Like a week later," Alexia said. "I couldn't help it. We were just sitting on her couch watching TV and I turned to her and said, I'm in love with you. Just blurted it out. And she looked at me and said, thank god because I've been in love with you since the day we met and it's been torture not saying it."

"Stop, that's too cute," Carla said.

"It's the truth," Alexia said. "And then we had sex again. Right there on the couch. Because apparently confessing your feelings is a turn on."

They all dissolved into laughter.

Jay was smiling so hard her face hurt.

"But seriously," Alexia said when the laughter died down, her voice taking on a more serious quality. "That first time set the tone for everything. She showed me what it could be like. What it should be like. Being with someone who actually cares about your pleasure. Who pays attention. Who makes you feel like you're the centre of their universe."

"And is she still like that?" Miriam asked. "Or did it wear off?"

"Are you kidding?" Alexia said. "It's only gotten better. Because now she knows me even better. Knows exactly what I like. Exactly how to touch me. Exactly what to say. It's like she has a PhD in making me come at this point."

"A PhD!" Gemma laughed.

"A doctorate in Alexia studies," Alexia said, giggling now. "With a specialisation in making me forget my own name."

"I'm so happy for you," Carla said sincerely. "You deserve someone who treats you like that."

"I really do," Alexia agreed. "And I'm so lucky I found her. Because she's not just good in bed. She's good at everything. Good at loving me. Good at making me laugh. Good at knowing when I need space and when I need closeness. Good at being my partner."

"The laugh lines," Miriam said suddenly. "Oh my god, the Botox thing makes so much more sense now."

"Don't remind me," Alexia groaned. "She was so upset about my laugh lines. So possessive of them because she put them there by making me so happy."

"That's actually really romantic though," Gemma pointed out.

"It is," Alexia admitted. "Even though it was also completely ridiculous. But that's Jay. Ridiculous and romantic all at once."

"And good in bed," Miriam added.

"SO good in bed," Alexia confirmed. "Like, I cannot stress this enough. The best I've ever had. The best I'll ever have because I'm never letting her go."

"Good plan," Carla said.

"The only plan," Alexia agreed. "Because that first time? That was just the beginning. It's only gotten more intense since then. More connected. More intimate. Now when we're together it's like we're completely in sync. Like she knows what I need before I know it myself."

She paused, and Jay could hear her taking another sip of wine.

"And the thing is," Alexia continued, her voice softer now. "It's not just about the physical. Though that's amazing. It's about feeling seen. Feeling known. Feeling like you matter to someone. Like your pleasure matters. Like making you happy is the most important thing in the world to them."

"That's what everyone deserves," Gemma said gently.

"It is," Alexia agreed. "But not everyone gets it. And I'm so grateful I do. So grateful I found someone who loves me like that. Who takes care of me like that. Who makes me feel like that every single day."

"Even when she's being ridiculous about your laugh lines," Miriam teased.

"Especially then," Alexia said, laughing. "Because even her ridiculous things come from a place of love. Of wanting me to know how much she adores every part of me."

The conversation shifted then, moving to other topics. Someone's terrible date. Someone's upcoming vacation. General gossip about mutual friends.

Jay kept listening for a few more minutes, just enjoying the sound of Alexia's voice, the way she laughed with her friends, the way she sounded so relaxed and happy.

Then she reluctantly hung up, stared at her phone for a long moment, and grinned.

This was too good.

This was amazing actually.

She couldn't wait.

An hour later, Alexia stumbled through the front door, giggling to herself, definitely more than a little drunk.

Her movements were uncoordinated in that careful way drunk people moved when they were trying very hard to appear sober. She took extra time hanging up her jacket. Removed her shoes with exaggerated precision. Walked to the living room with measured steps.

"Bebe?" she called out, her accent even thicker than it had been at the bar. "I'm home!"

"In here," Jay called from the couch, her voice carefully neutral.

Alexia appeared in the doorway, her hair slightly messy from the walk home, her cheeks still flushed from wine and laughter and the cool night air. She was smiling that loose, happy smile she got when she was drunk and content.

When she saw Jay on the couch, her smile widened.

"Hola, guapa," she said, making her way over with careful steps. She collapsed onto the couch next to Jay, immediately curling into her side like a cat seeking warmth. "Did you miss me?"

"So much," Jay said, wrapping an arm around her automatically. "Did you have fun?"

"So much fun," Alexia said, her face pressed into Jay's shoulder now, breathing in her scent. "I love my friends. They're the best. We laughed so much. And the wine was so good. And the food was amazing. We should go there together sometime."

"I'd like that," Jay said, fighting to keep her expression neutral, to keep the grin off her face. "What did you talk about?"

"Oh, you know," Alexia said vaguely, her words slightly slurred together. "Just girl stuff. Nothing important. Just chatted about life and work and things."

"Nothing important?" Jay repeated, her voice still carefully neutral.

"Nope," Alexia confirmed, already getting sleepy. The wine and the warmth of Jay's body and the comfort of being home were making her drowsy. "Just normal friend things. Boring stuff really."

"Hmm," Jay said, letting the silence stretch for a moment. "That's funny. Because I could have sworn you called me about an hour and a half ago."

The effect was immediate and dramatic.

Alexia's eyes, which had been drifting closed, snapped open.

She sat up so fast she nearly fell off the couch, would have if Jay's arm hadn't been there to steady her.

"WHAT?!" she said, her voice going high and panicked, all traces of sleepiness gone. Her face went from flushed from wine pink to completely pale in about three seconds flat.

"Yeah," Jay said, unable to keep the grin off her face now. "Pocket dial. I answered and you were talking to your friends about something. What was it again? Oh right. Our first time together."

"Oh my god," Alexia breathed, her hands coming up to cover her face. "Oh my GOD. No. No no no. Tell me you're joking. Please tell me you're joking."

"Not joking," Jay confirmed cheerfully, gently pulling Alexia's hands away from her face so she could see her properly. "I heard everything."

"Everything?" Alexia asked weakly, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with horror.

"Everything," Jay said. "About how we'd been dancing around each other for months. About our date. About walking on the beach. About getting back to my apartment. About how I was attentive and focused. About how I made you come three times and you saw stars and forgot your name."

"BEBE!" Alexia interrupted, her face now so red it was almost purple. She tried to cover her face again but Jay caught her hands. "Stop! You weren't supposed to hear any of that! That was private!"

"But I did hear it," Jay said, her tone gentler now, more sincere. "And for the record? I loved it."

Alexia froze, her hands still captured in Jay's, her expression shifting from mortification to confusion.

"You... what?" she asked.

"I loved hearing it," Jay repeated, pulling Alexia closer, settling her properly in her lap so they were face to face. "Loved hearing how you talk about me when I'm not around. How you describe that first time. How you felt. How you still feel."

Alexia's expression was softening now, though the embarrassment was still clearly written on her face.

"You weren't supposed to hear it," she muttered, but her hands had relaxed in Jay's grip.

"I know," Jay said gently, releasing Alexia's hands so she could cup her face instead. "But I'm really glad I did. Because hearing you tell your friends that I make you feel seen and known and cherished? That making you happy is the most important thing in the world to me? That was everything, Ale. That meant everything."

"You do make me feel like that," Alexia said quietly, her hands coming up to cover Jay's where they rested on her cheeks. "All the time. Not just in bed. Always."

"Good," Jay said, leaning in to kiss her softly, slowly, trying to pour all of her feeling into it. "Because you are. The most important thing. The centre of everything."

They kissed for a long moment, slow and sweet and perfect, before Alexia pulled back with a groan.

"I can't believe I pocket dialled you during that conversation," she said, dropping her forehead to Jay's shoulder. "Of all the conversations to pocket dial you during. I'm never drinking wine again."

"Yes you are," Jay said, laughing, her hands rubbing soothing circles on Alexia's back. "And you're going to pocket dial me again eventually. And I'm going to listen every time because I love hearing how you talk about me."

"You're terrible," Alexia said, but there was no heat in it, just fond exasperation.

"You love me," Jay countered.

"I really do," Alexia admitted, lifting her head to look at Jay properly. "Even though you're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Never," Jay confirmed cheerfully. "This is going in the relationship highlight reel. Right up there with the Instagram strap comment and the Botox situation and the current girlfriend prank."

"We don't have a relationship highlight reel," Alexia protested.

"We do now," Jay said. "And it's entirely made up of you being embarrassing and adorable."

"I'm not adorable," Alexia said, trying to sound dignified despite being drunk and sitting in Jay's lap. "I'm mortified. There's a difference."

"You're both," Jay said, kissing her nose. "Adorably mortified. It's very cute."

"It's not cute bebe," Alexia insisted. "It's humiliating. I told my friends you made me come three times our first night together!"

"I did make you come three times," Jay pointed out reasonably.

"That's not the POINT!" Alexia said, but she was laughing now despite herself, couldn't help it.

"What is the point?" Jay asked innocently.

"The point is you weren't supposed to hear that conversation," Alexia said, poking Jay's chest for emphasis. "It was private. Between me and my friends. You weren't invited."

"And yet I heard it anyway," Jay said, catching Alexia's hand and bringing it to her lips. "And I'm so glad I did. Because now I know that you go around telling people how amazing I am in bed."

"I do NOT go around telling people," Alexia defended.

"You told three people in one night," Jay pointed out. "That's literally the definition of going around telling people."

"I was DRUNK," Alexia said. "Drunk words don't count."

"Drunk words are sober thoughts," Jay said.

"That's not how that saying goes," Alexia protested.

"Close enough," Jay said, pulling her in for another kiss.

When they broke apart, both slightly breathless, Alexia was smiling despite herself.

"You're impossible," she said.

"You love me," Jay said.

"Unfortunately I do," Alexia agreed. "Very much. Even though you eavesdrop on my private conversations like a creep."

"I prefer the term accidentally overheard," Jay corrected.

"You stayed on the line for over an hour," Alexia pointed out. "That's not accidental. That's intentional creeping."

"Can you blame me?" Jay asked. "You were talking about how good I am in bed. What was I supposed to do, hang up and miss that?"

"Yes!" Alexia said. "That would be the normal, respectful thing to do!"

"Where's the fun in that?" Jay asked, grinning.

Alexia shook her head but she was smiling, her earlier mortification fading into fond exasperation.

"I hate you," she said without any conviction.

"No you don't," Jay said confidently.

"No I don't," Alexia admitted. "I love you. So much. Even when you're being terrible."

"Especially when I'm being terrible," Jay corrected.

"Especially then," Alexia agreed, leaning in to kiss her again.

They stayed like that for a while, just kissing and holding each other, the comfortable silence of two people who were completely at ease together.

Finally Alexia pulled back with a yawn.

"I need to sleep," she announced. "The wine is catching up with me."

"Come on then," Jay said, standing up and pulling Alexia with her. "Let's get you to bed."

They made their way to the bedroom, Alexia leaning heavily on Jay, still giggling occasionally about the pocket dial situation.

"You're really never going to let this go, are you?" she asked as they got ready for bed.

"Never," Jay confirmed. "This is too good. This is legendary."

"I'm going to tell Gemma and Miriam and Carla to never speak to me about my sex life again," Alexia said, pulling on one of Jay's t shirts to sleep in.

"They're going to ignore you," Jay predicted. "Because now they know I listen to pocket dials."

"Oh god," Alexia groaned, climbing into bed. "They're going to be so weird about this."

"They're going to love it," Jay said, climbing in next to her. "They're going to think it's hilarious."

"It's not hilarious," Alexia muttered, but she was already curling into Jay's side, seeking warmth and comfort.

"It kind of is," Jay said, wrapping her arms around her. "And hey, at least you said nice things. Could have been worse."

"How could it be worse?" Alexia asked.

"You could have been complaining about me," Jay pointed out. "But instead you were telling them I'm the best you've ever had and I make you see stars."

"You do," Alexia mumbled sleepily into Jay's shoulder. "Make me see stars. All the time. So good at it."

"Thanks babe," Jay said, grinning in the dark. "Good to know."

"Shut up," Alexia said, but there was no heat in it. "Go to sleep."

"Love you," Jay said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Love you too," Alexia murmured, already half asleep. "Even though you're never going to let me forget this."

"Never," Jay agreed softly.

Within minutes, Alexia was fully asleep, her breathing evening out, her body relaxing completely against Jay's.

Jay stayed awake a little longer, just holding her, thinking about everything she'd heard on that call.

About how Alexia described their first time.

About how she'd felt seen and known and cherished.

About how she'd fallen in love right there in that moment.

About how she still felt that way.

Jay had always known Alexia loved her. They said it constantly, showed it constantly, lived it every day.

But hearing Alexia talk about her to her friends, hearing the way she described what they had, hearing the genuine emotion and affection in her voice, that was something different.

That was special.

That was everything.

She fell asleep smiling, Alexia safe in her arms, both of them exactly where they belonged.

The next morning, Alexia woke up with a headache, a dry mouth, and no memory of pocket dialling Jay.

She groaned loudly, rolled over, and found Jay already awake, scrolling through her phone with a suspicious grin on her face.

"What?" Alexia asked, her voice rough from sleep and wine. "What are you grinning about?"

"Just speaking to your friends... you might wanna check your phone babe," Jay said innocently.

Alexia immediately grabbed her phone unlocked it and wanted to get swallowed by a black hole.

Gemma: ALEXIA. Apparently you pocket dialled Jay last night. She texted Miriam this morning. She heard EVERYTHING.

Miriam: Oh my god I'm actually dying. This is the funniest thing that has ever happened to anyone ever. I can't breathe.

Carla: At least you said nice things??? Could have been SO much worse. Imagine if we'd been talking about something actually embarrassing.

Alexia dropped her face into the pillow and let out a muffled scream.

"I hate everything," she said into the pillow. "I hate my life. I hate wine. I hate phones. I hate technology."

"You love me though," Jay said, setting her phone aside and rolling over to pull Alexia close.

"Unfortunately," Alexia agreed, her voice still muffled by the pillow. "Even though you're the worst."

"I'm actually the best," Jay corrected. "According to you. To your friends. Last night. In detail."

"Stop talking," Alexia said, finally lifting her face from the pillow to glare at her. "Never speak of this again."

"I'm going to speak of this constantly," Jay said cheerfully. "This is my new favourite story. Did I tell you about the time my girlfriend pocket dialled me and told all her friends I made her see stars?"

"I'm leaving you," Alexia announced. "Right now. This relationship is over. I'm moving to a different country where pocket dials don't exist."

"No you're not," Jay said confidently, pulling her closer.

"No I'm not," Alexia admitted, giving up and curling into Jay's embrace. "But I'm very unhappy about this situation."

"Are you though?" Jay asked, pressing kisses to her temple, her cheek, her jaw. "Because I heard you tell your friends you're so in love with me you're never letting me go."

"I was drunk," Alexia protested weakly.

"Drunk words," Jay reminded her.

"Are sober thoughts, I know," Alexia finished with a sigh. "You already said that last night."

"Because it's true," Jay said. "Everything you said last night was true. And beautiful. And I loved hearing it."

Alexia was quiet for a moment, her face pressed against Jay's shoulder, before she spoke again.

"It was all true," she admitted quietly. "Everything I said. About that first time. About how you made me feel. About how I fell in love with you. All of it."

"I know," Jay said gently, her hand running through Alexia's hair. "And I love you for it. For feeling that way. For telling your friends. For pocket dialling me so I could hear it."

"That last part was an accident," Alexia pointed out.

"A happy accident," Jay corrected.

"For you maybe," Alexia said. "For me it's a mortifying accident that I'm going to be embarrassed about forever."

"Only until the next embarrassing thing happens," Jay said. "Give it a week. You'll do something else."

"I hate that you're probably right," Alexia said.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, just holding each other, before Jay spoke again.

"Hey Ale?" she said softly.

"Hmm?" Alexia responded, already drifting back toward sleep.

"That first time was special for me too," Jay said. "Just so you know. It wasn't just you falling in love. I was falling too. So hard. And hearing you talk about it last night, hearing how you remembered it, that meant everything to me."

Alexia lifted her head to look at Jay properly, her eyes soft and warm despite the hangover.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Yeah," Jay confirmed. "So thank you. For pocket dialling me. For being drunk enough to talk about it. For loving me enough to describe it that way."

"You're welcome," Alexia said, leaning in to kiss her softly. "Even though I'm still mortified."

"You'll get over it," Jay said.

"I won't," Alexia said. "But I'll learn to live with it. Especially since you're never going to let me forget it."

"Never ever," Jay agreed happily.

"Come on," Alexia said, sitting up with effort. "Make me coffee and breakfast. You owe me for listening to that entire conversation."

"I don't owe you anything," Jay protested, but she was already getting up. "You're the one who pocket dialled me."

"Exactly," Alexia said. "Which means you owe me comfort and carbs and caffeine bebe."

"That logic doesn't track," Jay pointed out, but she was already heading to the kitchen.

"Doesn't have to track," Alexia called after her. "I have a hangover and I'm embarrassed. Feed me."

Jay laughed, started the coffee, and began pulling out ingredients for breakfast.

And if she spent the rest of the day occasionally bringing up details from the pocket dial conversation just to watch Alexia's face turn red, well, that was her right as someone who'd been accidentally given access to her girlfriend's private thoughts.

And if Alexia secretly loved that Jay had heard it all, loved that Jay knew how much she was loved, loved that their first time had been special to both of them, well, she'd never admit it out loud.

But Jay knew.

Just like she knew everything else about Alexia.

Because that's what happened when you paid attention.

When you were attentive and focused and determined to know every detail of the person you loved.

You learned them.

Inside and out.

---

The sound wasn’t loud, but in the silence of the training ground, it echoed like a gunshot. A small, dry, almost metallic pop, right where the knee meets the rest of your life.

The world tilted for a second. The joint gave way, and the pain arrived afterward—not as a blow, but as a fire slowly spreading beneath the skin. You collapsed onto the grass, clenching your teeth as oxygen escaped your lungs.

The coach’s whistle blew, stopping everything. But before the physio could even cross the touchline, someone was already on her knees beside you.

Viv.

She wasn’t the all-time leading scorer. She wasn’t the Manchester City star or the face of the Dutch national team. She was simply your big sister, and she had a paleness in her face you had never seen before—not even before a major final.

"No, no, no…" she murmured, her voice breaking for a split second.

She held your face with both hands, forcing you to look at her so you wouldn’t look down at your leg.

"Look at me, Y/N. Breathe with me. Look me in the eyes. I’m here, I’m not moving."

Her eyes, usually calm and calculating, reflected a primal fear. She knew that sound. She had heard it in her own leg; she had felt it in her own flesh. She knew exactly which door had just slammed shut for you.

"Viv… it popped…" you whispered, and the first tear of frustration rolled down your cheek.

"I know, I know. Just breathe. Don’t let the panic win," she said, though her own voice cracked slightly.

---

"Torn Anterior Cruciate Ligament."

The words floated in the medical room like a prison sentence. The doctor talked about months, surgery, tendons, and recovery timelines. You stared at a fixed point on the floor, feeling your career grind to a halt while the rest of the world kept spinning.

Viv didn’t look at the floor. She sat beside you, arms crossed, analyzing the doctor with that tactical coldness she used to read rival defenses. She didn't let anyone see her sadness—only her resolve.

In the car on the way home, the silence was suffocating until your voice finally broke.

"I don’t want to go through this, Viv. I don’t want the crutches, I don’t want to start from zero again. It’s not fair."

Viv parked the car in front of your house but didn’t get out. She turned to you, and for the first time in years, you saw her vulnerable. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly.

"It’s shit, Y/N. It’s frustrating, and it makes you feel like your body has betrayed you. It steals matches from you, it steals your confidence, and it forces you to watch football from a cold stand."

She swallowed hard, looking at you with an intensity that made your skin crawl.

"But listen closely: that injury might break your knee, but it’s not going to steal who you are. And if you think you’re going through this alone, then you don’t know me at all."

---

Viv became your shadow, your sergeant, and your personal nurse. She made sure the ice was at the exact temperature, that your protein shakes had the right amino acids, and above all, that you didn’t sink.

"Stop trying to skip the set, I can see you in the mirror," she said one Tuesday, without looking up from her book.

"Viv, it’s just one rep!" you protested, leaning on your crutches.

"One rep is the difference between coming back at 90% or 100%. And you are not coming back halfway."

Viv would sit you on the sofa, elevate your leg with surgical precision, and then sit on the floor in front of you with a notebook and a laptop. You didn't watch movies; you watched tactics.

"We’re going to work on your head while the leg rests," she decreed. "I didn’t have anyone to explain to me that the brain gets slower when you stop playing. You’re going to be smarter than you were before you fell."

You analyzed plays together. She would pause videos of City or the national team.

"Look at the space the fullback leaves here. When you come back, I want you to smell it before it even happens."

"What if I’m not as fast anymore?" you asked one night, fear creeping in again.

Viv gave you a look that took your breath away.

"You’re not coming back the same, Y/N. You’re coming back better. More patient. More technical. I learned to read the game when my body wouldn’t let me run. Now it’s your turn."

Months passed. One night, you were on the sofa with your leg resting across her lap while she gently massaged the scar—a silent ritual that had become your favorite part of the day.

"Remember when Dad made us train in the garden and you almost broke my ankle with a tackle?" you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Viv let out a dry laugh, the kind she only reserves for family.

"You were heading straight for goal, and someone had to teach you that professional football isn't a bed of roses. Although, I admit I used a bit too much force."

A comfortable silence fell. Viv stopped massaging and looked at you, leaning her forehead against yours in a gesture of tenderness that no one in the football world would believe the "cold" Miedema was capable of.

"I’m proud of you," she whispered. "Not for the rehab, but for never stopping smiling despite the pain."

The hotel room felt far too quiet for a day that's supposed to be this big. Almost eerily and uncomfortable if it wasn't for the mix of Alexia's pacing and you struggling to get your clothes on and fitting so they felt just right against your body.

You'd long tuned out the slight sound of Alexia's feet against the rough hotel flooring. She was far from composed and the pacing was definitely an anxious, restless mix where her hands keep finding her hips, then her hair, the bridge of her nose. All while her eyes darted from towards you, then back in front of her and back to you again.

You were the cause of her anxious pacing while you just sat on the edge of the bed trying to get the elastic of the skirt to feel comfortable underneath your, now, very rounded out stomach. Alexia doesn't even remember how she let you come with her to this champions league final, especially when the last two weeks have been filled with false alarm hospital visits.

Well if Alexia thinks hard enough she definitely remembers the way you kissed along her neck, holding her hands above her head while you rocked your hips against her thigh and wouldn't let her properly touch you if she didn't agree to you coming along.

You've never missed any of Alexia's important matches since you started dating so you definitely weren't going to let being very heavily pregnant stop you from missing this one. Also the logic that it was being held in Spain so you wouldn't technically be leaving the country helped Alexa come to terms with what she'd agreed to once the lust haze left her mind.

But right now she was having doubts and her concern was endearing even if it was bordering on annoying you a little bit. Though you will admit your entire pregnancy Alexia has been nothing but supportive and the perfect partner and you know everything right now is coing from a place of love.

And you couldn't help the warmth that flooded your chest at the thought, especially when you looked down and were reminded of the little family and life you were building together. The most perfect mami that Alexia was going to be. You couldn't wait for your little bean to already be here. You just know the post pregnancy hormones are going to go crazy once you see Alexia holding your little baby girl.

So much you might try to convince Alexia to put another one inside you already.

'Amor,' Alexia's voice is soft, with a slight strain to it. She stopped in front of you, eyes softening at the sight of you sitting there, her jersey you struggled to get on that just sits on top of your bump leaving it fully exposed.

But there was no way you weren't about to wear one of her jersey's, you needed that closeness to her, even more now that you were in these final stages. And Alexia would never complain seeing her name across your back. 

'Por favor,' Alexia kneeled down in front of you, you knew exactly what she was asking of you without her even needing to say it. You kept your eyes focused on your stomach, your hand rubbing slow circles where the baby had been kicking all morning.

Alexia grabbed hold of your hand that was just sitting beside you on the bed. Softly rubbing her thumbs against your knuckles before lifting your hand to her lips, kissing each knuckle gently. You knew exactly was she was doing, but no amount of sweetness from her could outweigh your stubbornness.

'Ale,' You drawed out, 'I'm fine,' You looked up at her, heart softening at the amount of concern evident in her eyes. You wanted her to stop worrying and just focus on the match, but you knew that was the least of her worries right now.

She could control football to an extent, even if she couldn't she still knew exactly how things could play out. But when it comes to you and your baby, there were so many unknowns, nothing Alexia could predict or fully prepare for and it made her panic a little. More than she'd ever admit to you. She doesn't like the thought that anything could just happen to either you or the baby and she wants to do her best to protect you both from everything bad.

'You're nine months pregnant, cari,' Alexia countered almost immediately like she'd preplanned and knew exactly how the start of this conversation was going to go, 'The baby could come at any moment,' 

You raised your eyebrow at her, 'And you're playing a champions league final. Kind of important too, no?'

Your attempt at humour and lifting the tension that filled the air of the hotel room, all from Alexia alone, doesn't land the way you hoped. Instead you see her jaw tighten, her thumb stills over your knuckles briefly and she takes in a deep breath, 'Mi amor, I love you, but this is not the same thing,'

You just smirked, 'Exactly,' You say gently, Alexia thinking you are finally going to agree with her, 'The final is much bigger,'

Alexia deadstared ahead of her, trying to keep what little patience she had left. You breathed deeply feeling the baby kick yet again, she'd really been putting you through it lately but you just took the hand that was already holding Alexia's and held it against your stomach.

Alexia's entire body softened and relaxed feeling her baby girl, she leaned down resting her forehead against your stomach and closed her eyes, 'Can't wait to meet you,' She whispered out. you could tell just from the slight tremor in her voice that her eyes were glossy. You loved teasing her for it but you were honestly the same way towards the little baby that had been growing inside you for the last nine months now.

But you were more than ready for her to make her appearance sooner rather than later, but maybe not today. Any day after today. You loved being pregnant and everything that came with it like being spoiled by Alexia and the newfound appreciation for your own self. But you were also at the point where you just wanted to meet your little baby, hold her in your arms.

'Ale, bebé, your entire family will be at the match,' You thought right now was the perfect time to reason with her, 'Your mami, Alba, wouldn't it be better if I was with them if something happens instead of being here alone,' Your free hand rested on Alexia's head, gently running your fingers through her hair.

She looked up at you, her cheek gently resting against the skin of your stomach. You could see the deep thoughts running through her mind and the way her eyes flickered towards your stomach before back up at you, you knew she was considering what you were saying, 'If anything feels not normal you will tell someone, sí?'

'I promise, mi amor,' Your fingers brushed over the side of Alexia's face, cupping her jaw gently, your thumb rubbing her cheek. She leaned into your touch, smiling softly.

That was enough for Alexia to break, she had a match to worry about and she knew you would be in the best care of her family and she knows exactly where you'd be so she could potentially keep a little eye on you. Though knowing Alexia she will get very involved in the game and her mind will be taken off of worrying about you.

'Mmm okay, I trust you,'

════════════════════════

The stadium is already loud by the time you make it to your seats. The familiar noise of the stadium settles into your bones in a way that instantly calms you. Alexia was already out on the pitch warming up, you gave her a little wave when she looked, squinting in your direction and you saw her shoulders drop before she went back to her drills.

The constant hum of anticipation, the drums, chants and thousands of voices rising and falling like waves, since finding yourself amongst Alexia's world this feeling had started feeling just like home in a way. You couldn't imagine your life without any of this.

You almost felt calmer than you did in the hotel.

You sat there settled in between Eli and Alba, your bump on full display now covered in temporary barcelona tattoos and glitter. There were some kids you ran in to on the way into the stadium that begged you to let them and you just couldn't say no.

'How cool do I look now with my new tattoos?' You looked so proud and amused while the glitter on your stomach glimmered in the sunlight, leaning back a bit in your seat to show it off even more.

Alba shook her head and handed you a bottle of water, 'At least you aren't let any nerves get to you right now,' She fully knows how you are normally a bundle of nerves whenever you're sat watching any of Alexia's important matches. You always just wanted to see your girl happy and hated how much she put on herself whenever they lost, 'You know what they say, stress could bring on the baby,' 

'Wouldn't that just add to the day? Could you imagine, only Ale's baby would be born at a stadium,' You laughed, your hand resting under your stomach holding it to try to relieve some of the pressure off your body and give you some very brief relief, 'Not even a day old and already on the pitch,' 

The two of you and your laughter got lost in amongst the rest of the noise in the stadium. Alba's hand on your arm, 'Maybe we shouldn't joke about it, the universe might actually listen to us and make it happen,' 

You could see Eli give you both an amused raised eyebrow which made you laugh a bit more, grinning at Alba, while brushing off a bit of the glitter that had fallen onto your lap. 

Chants continued to ripple through the stadium. The sound vibrated through your chest, you'd grown used to this rhythm over the years and you always basked in it. Especially when you got to watch your wife control the pitch with so much certainty you could never tear your eyes away whenever she was out there. 

You loved seeing Alexia in her element, doing what she does best. The more you grew to know and love the game, the more appreciation you had for everything Alexia does. Football has become such a big part of your life too now and you'd never complain about curling up against Alexia's side while she watched a match replay. 

Urging her to talk you through what she sees or is looking for whenever she rewatches matches, heart swelling with so much pride when you got to hear how her mind worked. You'd never played, only watched the occasional game here and there before her, so you loved every minute of getting to hear from inside the head of someone who's life has always revolved around football.

The scores were level going into the second half, the noise in the stadium definitely helped you to try to ignore the dull ache in your lower stomach that came and went in waves, gradually building as the second half went on.

'Are you okay?' Alba noticed your constant shifting in your seat, the way you were fidgeting with the cap of water bottle you were drinking from, how your grip changed on it every now and then.

'Sí, don't worry,' You smiled reassuringly. But you were trying to convince yourself that you hadn't noticed how this was differing to the cramps you'd been feeling over the past two weeks.

The last two weeks all you had to do was move slightly or drink some water and it would stop those cramps and false contractions. Right now nothing was working and you just knew this was different. But unfortunately for Alexia, you were way too stubborn for your own good.

You just breathed a bit more deeply, hand rubbing your stomach trying to will this baby to just wait. You were also trying to telepathically will Barcelona to just score again so they could win this without needing to go into extra time, because you wanted to see out this final but you knew you'd actually be having this baby in the stands if you waited that long.

Alba shot you a look and then one to Eli from behind you, the pair didn't believe you but would be keeping a very close eye on you from here on out. You rolled your eyes, you love them though, 'God you two, I'm fine,' You waved them both off.

Alba kept eyeing you suspiciously, she was not convinced in anyway and was prepared to have to drag you out of the stadium herself if it came down to that. She would not like to face her sister's wrath if anything happened to you or this baby.

Your poor Alexia, none the wiser to what is happening in the stands right now while she argues with the ref like the fate of this game depends on it. Well it probably does, you remember the roar of the crowd in disbelief when the ref gave a free to the other team in a spot they could've easily scored from. Like she'd been trying to help them win since this second half started, the crowd getting more loud as the game went on like that.

But Alexia, down on the pitch, she's just as fired up as the crowd is. Sharp gestures, hands up and palms out with disbelief written across her face while she's protesting yet another bad call from this ref. Her captain's armband tight around her bicep, jaw set and eyes holding this intensity that would normally have you squeezing your thighs together and trying to plan how you could make this riled up Alexia take it out on you.

The crowd erupts loudly at whatever decision Alexia is currently disputing. The noise vibrating through you, through the contraction that is very clearly stronger than the last one. The pressure constantly building and becoming uncomfortable.

Alexia just throws her hands up one last time before jogging back into position, still shaking her head. Your clueless Alexia, completely and blissfully clueless to her baby that is trying to make a dramatic entrance into this world.

Your breathing was deeper and less controlled and you were barely trying to hide how you were feeling because that was using up way too much energy you just didn't have in you anymore. Just when you were almost at the point of giving in and telling the two that were watching you like a hawk that you needed to leave. 

That's when a throug ball perfectly split the defence. Rolling straight into space and directly into Alexia's path. You could just feel the tension that suddenly filled the air, it became slightly dizzying the sudden adrenaline rush mixed with the contraction that decided to come on harder than any of the others in this moment.

Alexia of course, took the first touch beautifully, as if there was any doubt, 'Careful' Alba had a gentle hold on your arm because you were already halfway standing, you could just feel what was coming. You know that look on Alexia's face as the keeper comes out and she skilfully rounds them. 

The roar of the crowd and the chanting of Alexia's name is like no other when that ball rippled the back of the net. You were instantly on your feet the minute that ball went in. Of course it just had to be Alexia to get the winning goal in the dire last minutes of a final. 

You cheered, well tried to as best you could but the moment you fully got to your feet you were almost doubling over holding onto your stomach. Alba didn't even hesitate, it was as if she predicted this was going to happen. 

But you kept your eyes out on the pitch as best you could while you were being ushered out of the stands. You couldn't help the smile that was splitting your face, your entire being also beaming with so much pride watching Alexia get engulfed by her team out on that pitch after her goal. 

You pressed your forehead briefly to Alba's shoulder, 'Okay, sí, we're going,' 

But even as you said it, your mind drifted. Drifting to the thoughts of you being back in these stands, or well not these ones but back in a stadium with a small, wriggling baby in a little Barcelona kit with a tiny number matching her mami's. Your daughter balanced on your hip while Alexia scored and turned to the crowd.

Instead of blowing one kiss towards you like she normally does when she scores. She'd blow two. One for her wife and one for her niña. And the thought made your chest ache in a completely different way, making you smile despite the contraction currently squeezing tight around you.

You're finally ready to get to a hospital and meet your daughter.

════════════════════════

By the time any staff could get the word to Alexia the final whistle was already echoing through the stadium followed by an eruption of cheers and chants in the crowd and before Alexia knew it she was being jumped on by her teammates who were closest to her.

Barcelona had just won yet another champions league and everyone was over the moon celebrating with each other. Teammates all screaming, collapsing into each other, someone found a flag waving it around in everyone's faces, cameras all rushing towards each player and group.

Somehow through all the chaos and the madness Alexia managed to slip into a small unoccupied space where she could breathe and immediately turned to where you were supposed to be. Scanning the crowd.

Her eyebrows scrunched together, sure the stands were just a sea of blaugrana and maybe it would've been easy for you to get lost within it. But Alexia could pick you out in any crowd, you always said it was her superpower and you were never quite sure how she could do it, 'No matter how crowded the room is, you're always the first one I see,' 

So when she couldn't spot you, or her mum or her sister, her heart started to race and she was ignoring everyone turning quickly towards the bench where a staff member was making her way towards Alexia.

The noise of the stadium was still erupting around her, teammates shouting and cameras flashing but it all becomes distant background noise to Alexia. The sounds all muffled like her head had been pushed underwater. 

Alexia's ignoring the hands grabbing her shoulders in celebration, she's ignoring Patri trying to loop her arm around her neck. Instead shrugging her off and blindly ripping off the armband to shove into her hands without really looking. Leaving a confused Patri while she just keeps going towards the tunnel.

Breaking into a half jog that the staff member is trying to keep up with. Her ears are ringing and not from the noise of the stadium. There's only one thought in her head, well maybe two thoughts, but that's just you and your baby daughter. She doesn't even remember how she gets from the pitch to the car to the hospital it's all just a blur as her heart beats rapidly against her chest.

════════════════════════

'She's here?' Your head lifts at the sound of Alexia's voice, soft and a little timid like she didn't want to disturb the peaceful quiet that filled the room. 

Your eyes are heavy, half closed with exhaustion but the second you see her standing there in the doorway, something in you lightens up and also relaxes just that bit more. Alexia's presence was always so calming for you, and comforting which was something you needed more than ever right now.

Alexia hasn't moved since speaking, one hand still braced against the door like it's keeping her tethered to reality instead of getting lost in her head at the sight of you and her newborn daughter resting on your chest.

She just stands there, eyes so softly looking at the two of you. Her two girls. The new bundle of joy wrapped up in your arms. You nod slowly, 'She really just didn't want to wait, needed all the attention on her, very dramatic,' By the time you reached the hospital it all happened so quickly.

'Only because you left it to the very last minute to get here,' You'd almost forgotten Alba and Eli were in the room with you. They were the most amazing and since Alexia couldn't be there you were glad to have such supportive and loving people there with you. Even if Alba was now calling you out, 'Ale, your daughter was almost born in those stands. Two very dramatic girls on your hands now. Good luck,'

Alba laughed and playfully nudged Alexia's shoulder, shoving a clean hoodie into her hands to put over the top of her kit she was still wearing before moving aside so Eli could embrace her daughter in a tight, 'Mija, she's aboslutely beautiful,' Alexia's throat tightens, if her eyes weren't starting to get glassy they definitely were now.

A final squeeze of her shoulder and they made their way out the room to give you both the time you needed together with your daughter. When Alexia reaches you both she doesn't look at the baby first, her full attention is on you.

Your cheeks felt warm under her gaze, both her ands came to gently cup your face, 'You're okay?' Your smile softened with how much love and care for you was evident in her voice.

'Amor, I'm okay,' Your voice was soft and small but content and Alexia seemed convinced that you were okay. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead and letting her lips linger there for a minute while you leaned into her touch.

'What was Alba saying about this little one being born at the stadium?' Alexia finally sat on the seat next to the hospital bed, her hands now touching your arms just needing to be close to you. An amused smile on her face while her eyes were glued to your daughter resting in your arms.

'I thought we could make it to the end of the match,' You smiled sheepishly and Alexia could hear it in your voice.

'How far did you get?' Alexia assumed she already knew the answer but she asked anyway. 

'Well I saw your beautiful goal mi amor, but then she decided you'd had enough of the spotlight for today,' 

'Oh did you now,' Alexia was talking to your daughter, her hand timidly reaching out to adjust the little beanie on her head, fingers hovering beside her tiny head, still a little in disbelief she's allowed to touch something so small, so perfect, 'I guess that's okay, you are far more adorable and important,' 

'Ale,' You whined a little, 'You and your match is just as important and you won, sí?' You were a little pouty in your state of exhaustion.

Alexia softened and leaned her head against your shoulder before pressing a kiss right there, 'Sí, mi amor, we won,' Her hand that was resting against your arm was absentmindedly tracing patterns against your skin, a constant reassurance that this moment was real and not just made up in her imagination.

She had been dreaming of this moment for months now, what it would be like to see you holding your daughter, to actually see your daughter for the first time. No amount of daydreaming could ever compare to this moment, she needed to make sure it was really happening.

'It's okay if you want to go celebrate you know, like with your team and all,' You suddenly got a little insecure, feeling like you were keeping Alexia here, if you weren't so tired those thoughts would've never had a place in your mind but you couldn't keep the irrational thoughts at bay.

'Qué?' Alexia looks at you like you've grown an extra head. Her eyebrows scrunched together like you said the most outrageous thing. Which to her you have because where else would she want to be right now than here by your side.

'You won a really important final Ale,' You shrugged a little, 'It's a big deal,'

Alexia just stares at you, eyes flickering down to your daughter who was starting to wriggle a little. Even she agreed with Alexia that you were being silly, which is what Alexia was thinking making her smile even wider.

'Amor,' Her hand cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek, 'Why would I want to be anywhere else? You've just done the most amazing thing, you just had a baby…our baby. I already have my celebration right here,'

Your chest tightens a little at the way she says it, like it's the most certain thing in the world being here right now. Alexia just presses another soft kiss to your temple, lingering there for a second. You blink back the sudden burn in your eyes, 'Yeah?'

'Sí,'

A knock at the door and Alba appearing brought you both out of your little bubble, though Alexia did not move away from you at all, only turning her head to look towards the door, 'Not to interrupt anything but you have a waiting room full of people,' The look on Alba's face told you everything you needed to know, Alexia sighed softly.

'It kind of looks like…a children's birthday party exploded,' Alba tilts her head trying to think if that is even the right words to describe the chaos that's erupted in the waiting room of this hospital.

All you could think of was the poor staff trying to navigate their jobs with the loud gremlins, who have just won a champions league, invading the hospital. The thought made you snort and shake your head affectionately.

Alexia's closes her eyes briefly, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, 'No,'

'Oh yes,' Alba was happy to bask in the torment Alexia went through daily with some of these girls, 'It's absolute chaos out there. They tried to be quiet but Vicky stepped on a balloon and then almost took out a nurse. I'm surprised they weren't kicked out the minute they stepped in,'

'They always just look like they're up to no good, even before they've done anything,' You laughed out, your village may be full of chaos but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, 'They just want to meet her Ale,' You rested your head on Alexia's shoulder, a little yawn escaping past your lips, 'They want to meet their capi's baby,'

Alexia threw on the hoodie, already having made sure her hands were clean before she gently grabbed her daughter from your arms, 'Get some rest mi amor, you are absolutely perfect, thank you,' 

════════════════════════

Alba was not wrong when she was describing how the waiting room looked. Alexia's eyes widened in a mix of horror and amusement. There were bright pink and blue balloons and some confetti filled gold ones, every where. A banner that said 'Happy Graduation', another glittery banner that just didn't match anything else in the room.

The girls had stopped by a random corner store on the way to the hospital and grabbed anything that looked festive and colourful enough. There were little plushies, each one picked out their own, way too many plushies for one baby to need. Alexia's lips pressed together not really knowing how to process everything.

And in the middle of the plushie shrine was the champion's league trophy with Alexia's medal hanging off of it.

Loud chatter filled the otherwise empty hospital waiting room, though if you were there you would've joked that they just scared away anyone else who was there. But the minute Alexia came into view Cata was shushing everyone and the room became so quiet.

It almost felt eerie, Alexia can't recall if she's ever heard this group be as quiet as they are right now. All just quietly staring at Alexia holding her little baby girl. Some unshed tears that matched Alexia's own, some nervous hands holding tightly onto some balloons and plushies and other little gifts they found at this random store.

'Everyone,' Alexia's soft voice cut through the silence, 'Meet our little Amèlia,' She's holding her little baby so carefully but her face is so proud to be showing her off to the people that mean so much to her, the people that were going to be in this little baby's life for a long time.

One by one, or small groups at a time they didn't crowd but they came to have a better look at little Amèlia, cooing at how small she was and how cute. They all couldn't believe she was here and they got to be part of this moment. Seeing their captain become a mami was surely something so special and they would all carry with them for many years to come.

One by one it was all going perfect, until Vicky came through the sea of people stopping in front of Alexia and just looking straight at Amèlia in her arms, 'Hi,' Her voice was soft, 'I'm Vicky,' She smirked a little, briefly glancing at Alexia and then the others before looking back down at the tiny baby again, 'I'm your older sister,' 

Vicky is absolutely glowing, hands on her hips, proud smile on her face turning to look at the others, 'That's my little sister,' 

Laughter breaks through the group and soon enough Clara and Pina are squeezing their way past shoulders and balloons, nodding along with Vicky, 'Yeah! We're her big sisters,' Pina agreed.

'I'm sure she'll look just like me, so why confuse everyone in saying we aren't related,' Clara shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world and that it just made it all make sense.

Your face frozen in sheer bliss, her strap dragging right along your walls, pressing right against that spot inside of you that filled every nerve-ending with white-hot pleasure.

“Fuck guapa,” her Spanish accent thicker than usual uttered the words that helped push you closer to the edge. The raw and primal lust in her eyes had your skin prickling.

“I’m gonna co—” you gasped, your lips almost touching.

Patri’s hand rested against your throat, a gentle caress—

Beep beep beep.

With a start you were ripped out of your dream, shooting up in bed, soaked in sweat. Your heart raced against your ribcage from your realistic dream. You put your hand against your chest as if that would be able to settle your pulse into something more manageable.

You felt the ache between your legs as though it had a heartbeat of its own. You sank back against your pillows, exhaling loudly whilst running a hand through your hair. You wanted nothing more than address the issue your dream had caused, but you were on a tight schedule for the day.

It was game day.

More importantly, an away game, which meant staying at a hotel that had your stomach in a knot because what if you were rooming with Patri? You had never roomed with her and you weren’t sure you would be able to cope with that. Not while harbouring feelings for her, and now apparently, the woman you were having sex dreams about.

Very realistic sex dreams no less.

You weren’t sure how you would get through the day, but you knew you didn’t have a choice. You would just have to rely on coffee and prayers to power through it and hope for the best that your dream wouldn’t distract you too much.

Hopefully.

✨✨✨

“Holá guapa,” the hair at the back of your neck stood when Patri’s voice floated around you. Her lips curved in her signature teasing smile as if she could sus out what you had dreamt about.

Your cheeks flushed, barely able to meet her gaze head-on.

“Holá Patri,”

“Ready for the game?” Her arm slung around your shoulder, tucking you in under her arm.

You were so fucked.

The proximity, her barely there perfume that penetrated your nostrils, the gentle lull and rasp of her voice — it was distracting to say the least.

“Yeah of course, it’s going to be good don’t you think?” You smiled softly as you both got settled next to each other on the bus. Arms brushing, knees knocked together.

So fucked.

“It will now that you’re here.” A small smirk played on her lips that had you rolling your eyes, biting down on your cheek to stop yourself from smiling at her poor attempt at flirting.

“That’s awful,”

“But it made you smile,” she countered.

“Such a charmer,”

“Always when it comes to pretty girls,”

You couldn’t help but grin at her blatant attempt, feeling a flutter in your stomach from having her attention on you like this. A few of the girls who overheard it groaned in unison.

“If that’s your game no wonder you’re single Patri!” Vicky, sharp as a whip, hollered as the other girls cackled.

“Who are you to say anything you’ve never even been on a date Victoria,” Patri patronized, looking far too smug with that comeback. Vicky’s mouth dropped open comically.

“Hey!”

You grinned at their easy banter, resting your head against the window, zoning out as their voices carried, something about the most recent prank Cata pulled on Pina. The moment your eyes closed, your treacherous brain began recounting your dream from this morning.

At the very most inopportune timing, considering who you were half pressed up against.

The heat of Patri pressing into you, kissing you as if it were her sole reason for existing. Patri panting in your ear, shaky moans telling you how good you felt. The slight tremble of her hands as they glided across your body. Her thumbs brushing against your taut nipples. Her lips skimmed across your neck. Hot, open-mouthed kisses that left your mind reeling.

A hand on your shoulder shook you awake, blinking a few times to get your unfocused eyes, focusing again and what did you see? Patri — specifically her eyes peering at you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Are you okay?”

You swallowed thickly, not sure what to say in response to her question. Because how did you even say to the person you had a crush on that you were vividly remembering the sex dream you had about her whilst she was inches away from you, entirely clueless to your internal crash out.

“Fine,” you squeaked, your voice betraying you terribly. You squirmed under her gaze, flushing.

Patri didn’t believe you, that much was clear, but she didn’t press the matter and for that, you were beyond grateful.

“Well, we’re here,” she said at last. You glanced around, seeing the rest of the girls getting their bags from the compartment above the seats, some of them already filing out.

“Thank you,” you murmured sleepily as she got out of her seat, handing you your bag first, then getting her own. You offered her a smile as a gesture of thanks, which she responded to by gently squeezing your arm.

✨✨✨

You were a few paces behind the rest of the team. The chatter of the girls surrounded you but it wasn’t anything you actively focused on. You were far too lost in your head, your thoughts going back to your dream that wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re very quiet today,” Patri’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. Her forehead creased in worry as she looked at you. This wasn’t like you to be so quiet. No, you were more often than not loud and chaotic. Cracking jokes and being a little menace wherever you could be. So this was very out of the ordinary for you and you could see why it made Patri concerned. You knew it wasn’t just her who’d noticed your quieter demeanour either. She was the only one who pointed it out, to care and ask.

You offered her a small smile, “I’m alright Patri, just had a dream I can’t quite shake.”

Her frown deepened even further. “What was it about?” It was innocent enough but it made your stomach fill with dread.

You couldn’t possibly tell her. Not now, not ever.

You would be taking this to the grave with you.

“I—umm, I can’t say,” you spluttered out, picking up your pace, trying to out-walk Patri.

It backfired spectacularly because if there was one thing Patri had, it was long legs. She was caught up with you in seconds. A hand gently wrapped around your wrist forcing you to slow your stride and look anywhere but at her.

“Hey, you can talk to me,” her voice so gentle and you almost cracked, but you couldn’t.

“I know I can, it’s just — I can’t say, I’ll be fine once we get to the stadium, to have something else to focus on.” You offered a weak smile, one she saw right through. Her lips pursed but she relented.

“Okay, but I’m right here if you want to talk.” She offered and you melted at her caring nature.

You grinned, and this time it reached your eyes. “Thank you Patri.” Without thinking twice, you stopped walking altogether and wrapped your arms around her, hugging her tightly.

Her arms looped around your waist, tucking your head against her neck and you exhaled. Shoulders dropping and you just let yourself exist in this moment with her. The feel of her strong and muscular arms around you, her hands stroking up and down your back soothingly. It centered you.

It was exactly what you needed.

She pulled away, smacking a kiss to your temple that had you blushing and grinning ear-to-ear. “Come on then, let’s see who we’re rooming with.” Her hand slipped into yours, tugging you along to the hotel, where everyone else was already waiting.

“Oh good! Patri and Y/N, glad you could join us. Since you two were the last ones to show up you’ll be rooming together.” Pere’s voice held no room for argument.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes widened in horror.

Fuck my life. It was your repeated mantra as the realisation truly and fully sank in.

You were going to share a room with Patri — your closest friend on the team and your crush. This could only end one way — with a disaster.

You were holding on by a thread, so close to spilling all about your dream and now you would be faced with the task of sharing a room. How could you keep this to yourself when you were already struggling?

You met her gaze, seeing the small smirk on her face. Your stomach swooped when she winked in your direction, playing with the key card between her fingers.

“Ready?” She called over to you, her voice carrying across the chaos of the other girls who were pairing up, already heading for the elevators to their own rooms.

Both of you missed the look Alexia and Irene gave each other, a shared smile between the two captains. Clearly having orchestrated this whole thing with you and Patri sharing a room.

✨✨✨

“So, this is…” she trailed off once you two reached your room, both of you staring at the problem.

There was only one bed.

For once, Patri had no witty quip to come with, she was stunned into silence.

“Well, that’s a surprise,” you offered.

“I can go ask the reception if we can change rooms?” She questioned, glancing between you and the bed, gauging your reaction.

Secretly and quite desperately, you wanted to share a bed with her. If this was your only chance of doing that, then so be it.

“No, I’m sure it’ll be fine, I’m fine with it. Unless you aren’t?” You hesitated, not wanting to come across as too eager. Or make it seem that you weren’t mindful of her feelings and what she wanted.

“I’m alright with it,” she rushed out, her own cheeks tinging with pink at her eagerness. It made your whole body sag in relief. A small grin spread across your face at her sudden shyness, it was endearing.

You cleared your throat. “So, which side of the bed do you want?”

“I’m fine with either side. Do you have a preferred side?”

You pointed toward the right side, closest to the windows. “That one please.”

Once you’d settled that and had fallen into a rhythm of unpacking, the time just slipped between your fingers and before you knew it, a knock on the door signalled that it was time to leave for the stadium and warm up for the game tonight.

“Let’s kick some ass,” Patri grinned.

✨✨✨

Things were going well. You’d managed to file away your dream in the back of your head and focus on the warm-up. Quick feet, sharp pivots and anticipating moves before they even happened.

In other words, you were on fire.

Up until the water break, where your gaze fell on Patri, seeing her squeeze water over her face from the water bottle.

Slow drips of water covered her face, sticking to her training top like second skin. Your jaw scraped the grass, staring unabashedly as she lifted her top to wipe her brows, exposing her tanned abs.

You truly felt no better than a man staring at her like that, there was nothing subtle about it either. And just like that, your dream came back with enough force to make you stumble over your own feet.

You were indeed so fucked.

The water break was over. The whistle blew and you were completely off kilter. Everyone saw it, the way you’d gone from being fully on top of warm-ups to missing even the simplest of passes in such a short span.

It was bad. Your touch on the ball came one, two seconds too late. Mistimed your sprints, a corner ball that went far too high and long for the goal.

Even Alexia noticed, sliding up beside you by the goal post, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Everything okay?”

You let out a weary sigh. “I’m fine,”

She laughed softly, “So, it has nothing to do with Patri lifting up her shirt?”

Your head whipped to her, staring at her with crimson cheeks. “No!”

It came too fast, too defensive and Alexia’s grin only widened. “Right,”

“Diós mio,” you groaned, letting your head hang. “I’m so fucked Ale,” she snorted, patting your back soothingly. “Just tell her,”

You made a noise. “I’d rather jump off a bridge.”

“Qué dramatica,” she huffed, but there was no heat in her words, only that ever-present amused smile on her face.

“I’m really not,” you mumbled, hearing her twinkling laughter. It was impossible to stay cross when Alexia laughed like that.

“Get over it, come on, we’ve got a game to prepare for. Thirst for Patri after it,” With that, she ran off entirely too pleased with herself.

✨✨✨

It ended up being an easy win for Barcelona.

You didn’t get on the score sheet but Patri did and you felt her joy as if it had been your own. You were so happy for her, with her coming back from her injury and the struggle that she’d had to get back to this level. It made it worth it and you could see the relief on Patri herself when she got that goal.

You saw what it meant to her, the subtle drop in her shoulders, the sheer and utter pride in herself and her ability to score such a goal. It had meant everything.

Not to mention, she scored whilst wearing the captain’s armband on her arm which was the cherry on top.

Whenever Patri wore that armband, you short-circuited.

But to see her post-game, eyes sparkling, sweat sticking to her flushed skin from the exertion of running up and down the pitch all night.

In other words, she looked like pure sin.

After the game, Patri was taken aside, something about needing her for drug testing. So, while the rest of the team headed back to the hotel, she was still there and would be for at least another hour.

✨✨✨

Knowing Patri wouldn’t be back yet, you slid under the covers, feeling the sheets cool down your overheated body. There was something special about slipping into a bed when you were freshly showered. It was unmatched.

It dawned on you then, for the first time since you woke up, that you were alone. Completely alone and the ache between your legs had come back with a vengeance. With a final glance at your phone, seeing the clock and knowing Patri wouldn’t be back, you let your hand wander south.

Eyes fluttered shut as your hands slid over the curves of your body, fingers teasing your own nipples until they were stiff peaks. You kept teasing and tweaking them until you were dripping, flashes of the dream appearing behind your eyelids that intensified your arousal.

By the time your hand grazed your sensitive and soaking cunt, you wouldn’t need much to reach your climax. Your fingers moved through your folds, gathering enough wetness to make the passes over your clit slick and easy.

Soft whimpers spilled out of you, the closer you got. Hips pushing into your hand as you pushed two slick fingers inside of yourself. Your free hand pinched your nipple, pulling you under the wave of pleasure you were experiencing, so you completely missed the fact that Patri came back early.

“Dios mío.”

Those words froze you, and your heart dropped.

You had been right on the cusp of coming, the painful throb in your pussy against your fingers was slowly ebbing away, just as pure horror took its place. Time stood still as dread filled every cell in your body.

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

You wanted to sink through the fucking mattress and never show your face to Patri ever again.

Not to mention that Patri was frozen, no, rooted in place, staring at you with a look of shock and something else that flashed too fast for you to catch.

“I—” you began, but what was there to say in a situation like this?

It was unprecedented.

“What are you doing?” It wasn’t accusatory, more shocked. Inquisitive. Clearly, she wasn’t processing this either for her to ask such a stupid question about what was very obvious to anyone with two eyes as to what you were doing.

Your cheeks burned as your eyes passed over her face, finally landing on her eyes, seeing her take a seat on the bed. Her own eyes focused squarely on the sheets that covered you, barely.

“Are you serious?” Your voice came out an octave higher, a squeak, staring at her wide-eyed.

That made her flush, glancing down. Then her eyes travelled over your body again.

“What were you thinking about? I heard my name,” Patri’s voice dropped, the usual raspiness complemented with huskiness that made the hair on your arms stand up.

Your lips parted in shame, you hadn’t even known you had moaned her name.

“N-nothing,”

She recovered quickly from her shock, her gaze levelled with yours, an eyebrow raised. “Are you really going to lie to me now?”

There was no way out of this you realised with a sinking feeling.

“You,”

A slow smirk formed, her eyes darkening. The tables were turning, leaving you reeling.

“What about me?”

You exhaled, feeling painfully embarrassed. “You touching me,”

Patri removed her hoodie, revealing the kit under that she had yet to change out of.

Your eyes drifted to her arm.

The captain’s armband sat snug against her bicep, the red and yellow contrasting against her tanned arm.

It made your throat dry.

“How did I touch you?” Her voice soft as silk when her hand landed on your thigh.

“Huh?” You were distracted by the damn armband. She followed your gaze to what you were looking at. This time, her smirk turned filthy.

“Did you imagine me touching you, possibly even fucking you while wearing this?”

You had no words. Which was an answer in itself. All you had was the filthy thoughts of Patri fucking you into the pillows, wearing that armband.

Wordlessly, she got off the bed, stripping out of her clothes until she was naked. Part from the armband that stayed put. Your throat felt like the Sahara desert as your eyes roved over her.

You felt like combusting right then and there.

“Fuck,” you breathed, from seemingly thin air Patri produced both a strap and a harness. You had no idea where she’d kept that, but you were certainly not complaining.

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as she set the items on the bed beside you, crawling onto the bed. Gentle fingers peeled away the sheet exposing you to her.

Patri let her gaze roam over you hungrily, licking her lips. “Fuck you’re sexy.” Her words landed like a caress on your body and you glowed under her praise.

“Do something about it then.” At last, you found your voice, challenging her. Heat flashed in her eyes before her mouth was on yours, claiming and unrelenting that had you reaching up, twisting your fingers in her hair. Rising to meet her in her challenge, not one to back down.

“Oh I will,” it was a promise that had your stomach tighten and your cunt throbbing.

Her lips dragging along your skin felt like fire and only her tongue could soothe it. She was meticulous, leaving not a single inch untouched. Your skin prickled as she left hot, open-mouth kisses against your sternum, fingers trailing further down until she was cupping your cunt.

Your fingers blindly grasped the sheets, hips pressing into her hand.

“You’re soaked,” she hummed delightedly. Fingers dipping between your folds, teasing your entrance. A broken noise broke from your throat, feeling the thickness of her fingers pushing inside of your cunt.

“Patri,” you moaned, head tipped back as her fingers sank deeper. Your walls hugged her fingers, coating them to make the glide seamless.

“God I’ve wanted this for so long,” she groaned, eyes fixated on the way your cunt took her fingers. Patri’s admittance had your breath hitching, the words running on loop in your brain.

“W-what?”

She stopped her kisses right above your belly button, eyes full of want. “This, you. To have you like this, to hear the sounds you make, how your cunt feels when I stretch you open before I give you my strap,” her words punctuated with the rasp of her voice, sending a thrill down your spine.

You tried closing your legs around her hand, the pressure already building low in your stomach. “Please,”

Patri’s eyes lit up. “Already saying please? Oh guapa, I can’t wait to hear what else you’ll be begging me for once I get started.” With that, her mouth joined her fingers and you saw God.

“Oh shit,” you moaned when her tongue lapped against your clit. Hot and insistent, each swipe of her tongue brought you one step closer. Working it in sync with her fingers.

“I could stay here forever, you’re already so close, aren’t you?” She pulled away briefly, looking at you with obvious desire in her eyes, lips and chin shining with your wetness.

“You’ve no idea,” you hissed, your thighs clamping around her head. You focused on the sensation of her lips wrapping around you, creating a perfect seal and then she started to suck.

Seeing Patri like this, her head between your legs, licking and slurping on your clit. Her small, breathy moans when tasting you, the slight grind of her own hips into the mattress. Fuck, it was so hot to know that tasting you was turning her on just as much.

Gently at first that sent shocks of pleasure licking up your spine. Your hips began grinding up, seeking out the pressure her mouth provided. A movement pulled your gaze from her face to her arm, the same one that was continuously fucking her fingers in and out of you. The constriction of her muscles, the veins that protruded. How the captain’s armband sat snugly on her bicep, flexed and moved with each flick of her wrist. The tattoos that decorated her arm leading down to her fingers.

Fuck, those hands and fingers.

Big, veiny, strong fingers. Calloused enough from the years of lifting weights and honing her skills to be the very best. Fingers that were currently taking you apart, curling insistently against the spot that had stars appearing behind your eyelids.

“Patri I’m gonna come,” Your voice came out urgent and high-pitched. This wasn’t something you could hold back. No one had ever been able to get you to the brink like this in such a short amount of time.

“Come for me, there you go guapa,” she was there, mouth sucking harder on your clit, which was enough to let the proverbial elastic snap as you came. Hot flashes of bliss surged through your entire body while she kept working you through it. The pressure lessened from both her fingers and mouth until she was barely doing anything. Just light licks so as not to startle you once the aftershocks had stilled.

“Come here,” your voice rough and demanding, cracking at the end as she moved up to lie down beside you. Immediately you sought out her lips, kissing her fiercely, moaning when you tasted yourself on her tongue.

“God, I need you,” Patri’s voice thick with need, her hands touching and groping you. Pulling you in close to her so every inch of your bodies touched.

“Please fuck me,”

She broke free, reaching behind her to put the harness on. You watched with heavy lids as she tightened the straps over her hips and thighs. Your insides felt like molten lava when she attached the strap, making sure it sat snugly.

“Your strap has the blaugrana colours?” Your mouth twitched, fingers reaching out to touch it. Her eyes twinkled as she bit down on her lower lip.

“Visca Barça,” she smirked, eyes on you as you got on top, straddling her hips in one fluid movement. The strap nestled against your folds and you let out a small whimper, hips rocking back and forth, teasing you both.

“You can’t tease me like this,” her hands found your hips, voice rough, her eyes pleading.

That made you smirk, “But it’s fun to tease you. To see how far I can take it before you snap.”

Her hold on your hips tightened in warning.

“Guapa,”

The word had you drawing in a ragged breath, cunt clenched in anticipation.

“What are you going to do about it?”

Before the words had fully exited your mouth, your world flipped and you were flat on your back before you could even blink. Patri’s grin was wolfish when she looked down at you.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out.” With that, she spread your legs, settling between them. Her eyes dragged from your face down to your cunt where her strap nudged between your folds. Watching the way her strap slid between your folds up to your clit, your wetness making the slide easy.

You shifted your hips, hoping it was enough of an incentive for her. “Patri,” you said softly.

“Beg for it,”

The whimper escaped before you had time to stop it. Your cheeks burned hot with humiliation. She stilled her movements, the head of the strap pressed right against your clit, which had your stomach coiling with need.

“Patri please,” your voice cracked as you stared up at her with lust-stricken eyes.

“Please what guapa? You need to tell me what it is you want.” She was enjoying this way too much, seeing you squirm under her, your cunt dripping onto the sheets below you.

“Fuck me.”

Those were the words that broke Patri’s restraint, her jaw clenched before she dragged your hips closer, the strap pushing inside of you in a swift stroke. The cool silicone gave a slight yield as it filled you up, stretching you open.

Your jaw fell open once she was fully inside. It was overwhelming in the most intoxicating way to feel Patri so deep inside of you. The restraint she showed in staying still to give you time to adjust.

“Move,” the word came out shaky with urgency. Patri let out a deep, gravelly moan as she drew her hips back, only the head of the strap still inside. A whine that quickly turned into a moan when she snapped her hips forward.

“Fuck you feel incredible,” she groaned, eyes downcast as she fucked you. Each time her strap disappeared inside of you, she felt the need to absolutely ruin you. To have you screaming her name when you came, to feel your cunt gush around her.

All those thoughts had Patri fucking into you with an unrelenting pace, fast and precise. Both of your moans intermingling, the room smelling of sweat and sex. Your cunt made wet, obscene noises when she grinded against the base of the strap.

“There! Right fucking there,” you gasped, your entire body seizing up when she found the spot that made your brain fill with white noise.

“There you go,” she panted, a wicked smirk at seeing you so completely wrecked. One hand left your hips to make its way up to your throat, caressing it. The captain’s armband that had sat on her arm had now slipped down to her wrist, so you felt the material of it graze your throat.

That made your heart skip and your breath hitch.

Patri’s eyes darkened at your reaction, her fingers gently pressing down. You keened low in your throat, feeling the coil tighten and your orgasm built.

“You look so pretty all fucked out on my cock like this guapa,” your cunt clenched painfully around her as your hands clawed at her wrist that was around your throat.

“Fuck I’m so close, please let me come,” you begged, the words cracking at the edges.

“Come for me guapa, let me feel this pretty cunt squeeze around me,” with a silent scream you came all over her, body high-strung and trembling. You knew Patri was just as close from her sloppy thrusts and her desperate moans as she chased her pleasure.

“Come for me Patri, fill me up baby,” you moaned, body still trembling from your release. You pulled her down kissing her. You swallowed her moans from deep in her throat, hips stuttering as she came against you. Her heart racing against yours and it felt so intimate, being chest-to-chest, kissing each other when she came.

For a moment, time was completely suspended as you both caught your breath. She collapsed on top of you, your bodies covered and sticking to each other with sweat.

“That was-” she began.

“-the best sex of my life,” you finished, letting out an exhausted laugh, fingers lazily carding through her sweat-soaked hair. She let out a tired chuckle, kissing your neck.

“It was so good,” she agreed and you felt her smile against your skin.

“You feeling alright?” You murmured once she rolled off you and got out of the harness, before she curled up, facing you.

“I feel very good guapa. Are you okay?” She ran her fingers over your side and you felt a shiver run through you—a lazy grin formed on your face.

“I got fucked within an inch of my life, how can I be anything but great?”

That had her cracking up, hiding her face in the pillow as her body shook.

“You’re insane,”

Your smirk stretched into a smirk, “I’ve worked up an appetite,”

She snorted, “Wanna order room service?”

You thought about it. “No,”

Her head tilted to the side, confused. “No?”

“I mean, I’ve already let you fuck me, so I might as well shoot my shot by asking you out on a date?” Nerves frayed around the edge of your question, an air of vulnerability settled around you two like a blanket.

A slow, careful smile spread across her face, “Yeah, I’d like that,”

Your heart almost leapt out of your chest in relief.

“Alright, let’s go then,” You were already getting out of bed.

“Wait, you mean now?” Confusion laced her words that had you giggling, already pulling on your underwear, finding a pair of sweats and a hoodie.

“Well yeah, no time like the present, right?” You asked, seeing her slip out of the bed and find some clothes to throw on.

“Where are you taking me?”

“I saw a McDonald’s across the street,” you giggled and Patri let out a surprised laugh.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special,”

You winked. “Don’t tell me you don’t love fries and a McFlurry,”

“Oh that’s been ages since I’ve had that!” She practically moaned. You grinned, swiping a key card and putting it in your pocket, opening the door for her.

“By the way,” you began, letting your knuckle brush against her arm, making her pause and look at you. “Once we get back here, I think it’s my turn to eat you out, don’t you?”

This time, it was Patri’s breath that hitched.

She dragged you by the arm down the hallway. “Let’s fucking go then so we can get back here asap.”

✨ ✨✨

Your last day with Sammy, the smile on her face, the accident, the regret of not holding onto to her longer the last time you hugged her. A constant cycle of grief and agony.

How everything went down the hill in just the blink of an eye. One moment you were on top of the world, enjoying it to the fullest, everyone you loved right there by your side. And the next second, the universe humbled you real quick. 

It climbed to the top of the hill just to hold you by your foot and drag you down, so quick, so fast, you didn't have time to brace yourself. Didn't have time to prepare for the pit of darkness that was forced upon you.

You were awake, you had been for hours now, staring at the ceiling with eyes that had been drained of life. Your head pounding with every second that ticked away, throat demanding water to calm its thirst with every passing second, yet no attempt to get out of bed was made. 

Even moving a single finger demanded an amount of energy you didn't quite have now. So you opted for lying still in bed, letting your thoughts consume you, the haunting images on a continuous roll pulling you further into the depths of despair.

Hours had passed and you'd completely lost track of time for you'd been awake for. The chirping birds, the morning light, nothing could pull your mind out of the gloomy state it was in.

Nothing but a soft knock that came after a few moments. 

“Kiddo, you awake?” Leah said from the other side, voice muffled by the door

You didn't answer. You couldn't. Your stomach was filled with dread for the conversation that was to come. And letting Leah in meant you couldn't push it back any longer. 

The blonde cracked open the door a little when she didn't receive an answer, her head peaking slightly behind it to see you lie wide awake and stare straight ahead.

Without a further word Leah quietly let herself in, glass of water in one hand and an aspirin in another. She quietly set it down near the table beside your bed before walking over and taking a seat at the end of the bed herself

“Thought you might need it” was all she said 

Leah knew better than to push you into a conversation straight away. The last few hours had been a lot for you and she knew she had to give you some time to let it all sink in. 

Silence consumed you both. Leah didn't try to initiate anything at first. She could see you wanted to say something, could see your mind trying to gather the right words to phrase it out. So she let you, she would stay here all day if that's how long it would take.

“Are you mad?” you eventually asked. 

Voice low, a whisper, head bowed and eyes not having the courage to meet the blonde’s.

“Mad? At you?” 

You nodded “For drinking, for -” you paused, too ashamed to even address it properly “for what I did” 

Leah’s eyes softened, shaking her head immediately “No kiddo, I'm not mad”

“I'm just disappointed” she said as she reached forward for your hand, linking it with hers ever so gently “Not in you but in myself”  

Your head snapped up at that. She hadn't done anything wrong, if anything she should be disappointed in you. You were the cause of the shame, you were the cause of her worries.

“I'm disappointed that I didn't notice sooner” she began once she had your attention “That I let you be by yourself for so long you forgot you had an army of women behind you to catch you when you fall. Disappointed that I didn't make you feel safe enough to come to me when things got hard” 

You shook your head immediately “No Leah, it's not that. Please don't say that” 

After Sammy, Leah was the first person ever you truly felt safe with. The person who made you believe the world wasn't only filled with terrible people. She was the one who stayed by your side when everyone had given up on you, the one that filled the shoes of your parents when your real ones were nowhere to be seen. 

Whatever happened, whatever was happening was not her fault and it broke you when you saw her blaming herself for it. 

You shifted, ever so slightly, until your head was on her lap and your body snuggling close to hers. Leah’s hand instinctively found its way to your hair, threading through it gently, an action she knew calmed you down. 

“It’s a lot” you said, glancing up at her “Everything happened so quickly that I couldn't process it. I was just so angry. I am angry, at the world, at everyone, at Sammy because she left me so soon” 

Leah didn't interrupt. She quietly listened, giving you space to finally let things out.

“And I knew I would burst at anyone I would talk to. I couldn't do that to you or anyone else. I thought you would hate me for it and leave me too. And I didn't want that. I can't lose you, Leah. I love you and I just couldn't lose anyone else” you quietly said as tears sprang down your cheeks “So I hurt myself instead to get that anger out, to get that grief out. I thought this would hurt less, that it'll make the pain in my chest go away but it doesn't. Nothing helps, the pain just gets heavier each day and I don't know what to do”

You cried as you held onto Leah by her torso, face pressed into her abdomen as your tears soaked through her sweatshirt. 

Leah's heart broke with your words. And she held you close, placing a kiss on your forehead that lasted a second too long

“Listen to me” she said “Nothing you do will make me hate you ever. You could shout all you want, could scream on top of your lungs but you'll still find me right beside you. I'm not going anywhere, not now, not ever. And neither is the team.”

She held you up by your shoulder, making you sit upright. Her hand cupping your face, thumb brushing away the tears, her eyes meeting yours, a look of determination on her face. 

“We’ve got you Y/n. And we are not letting go. You don't have to do this alone anymore, I won't let you. I know it's hard and I know you’re angry and sad and hurt. But I'll help you. We’ll get through this together. No matter how long it takes I'm not going anywhere. Okay? I've got you now and I promise I'll do everything to make it better” Leah said, her eyes glistening too but voice firm that left no room for any doubt. 

You lunged forward and hugged her tight, your head buried in her neck as you cried. The defender rubbed soothing circles on your back while holding you close. 

A few minutes later your sobs had subsided into shaky breaths, as you pulled back sniffling and wiping away the tears with your sleeves.

“I know you don't want to talk about it but we have to” Leah said softly

You didn't need further explanation to know where this was heading. This was the moment you dreaded the most since you woke up. 

“First things first, what did you use?” Leah got straight to the point. She knew it wouldn't help bouncing around it and had to be spoken straight up. 

“A..a blade” you stuttered, looking down “I found it down a sink in my parents' bathroom”

“Of course you did” she exhaled sharply, quite aware how careless your parents were and wasn't too shocked to know they had discarded dangerous stuff around the house without a care.

“Do you have it with you now?” she questioned. 

You nodded, your mouth losing its ability to speak. 

“Can you please hand it to me?” 

“Do we have to do this now? I promise I won't do it again” you pleaded. You knew why she was asking for it and to be honest you didn't trust yourself either with that thing. But it had become a safety net for you, you relied on it to take some steam off you when it became too much. And giving it away felt like the net was being ripped apart and you'd just fall with nothing to catch you.

“It's not up for debate” Leah said, a little firm now “I'm sorry but I can't let it be with you for any longer”

“Now please” she said as she held her hand out open

With a sigh, you reached for your bag that was on the other side of the bed. There was no point arguing with her, if Leah wanted something, she was going to get it one way or the other. You zipped open the back pocket and took out the covered blade, carefully placing it in her open palm.

The sight of the blade alone made Leah's blood boil but she pushed it down and forced herself to take a deep breath

“Thank you,” Leah said, putting the blade in the pocket of her joggers and making a mental note to throw it out later. 

“Now for the second thing, I've spoken to the club’s psychologist and booked you an appointment for tomorrow” 

Your eyes widen at that “What? Why?”

“Because you need it. You're dealing with something huge here and you need someone to guide you through it.”

“I’m not talking to some shrink Leah. I don't want to!” your voice rising as you felt your anger surface 

“I know you don’t but I'm afraid it's not an option” Leah replied calmly. She could see how upset you were getting but she also knew it was the right thing to do. You had to talk to someone, someone professional that could help you cope with everything. She would do anything to help you even if it meant getting yelled at. 

You were about to protest when Leah reached for you hand, gently taking a hold of it and rubbing slow circle at the back with her thumb 

“I know you don't like it but can you do it for me kiddo? Can you please give it one chance for me?” Leah all but pleaded. 

You sighed loudly, the clear desperation and concern in her voice made it impossible for you to decline it. “Fine but only because you're emotionally blackmailing me” 

She chuckled “Thank you” 

“As for the third thing” Leah began “ I need a promise” 

You furrowed your eyebrows “What promise?”

“That you'll always come and find me. It doesn't matter if it's 4am in the morning or in the middle of a meeting, anytime you get the urge to do something, you come and find me first. If you can't get to me for some reason, then you'll call Wally or Beth or anyone from the team. But promise me you'll always reach out to someone before doing anything that could potentially harm you” Leah said, squeezing your palm. 

“You're too precious to me kiddo, and I can't lose you. Not like this. So please promise me you'll always find me before you do anything” her voice cracked but she didn't care. Right now all she needed was for you to know that she wasn't losing you no matter what, that she'd fight any battle that'd come her way just to keep you safe. 

“I’m sorry I put you through that, I really didn't mean to. And I promise” your voice cracked too “ I promise I'll always come find you”

“Good cause I'm holding you to it” Leah said 

“Also, today we’ll be going to your house to get your stuff. I don't like the idea of you going there alone anymore and I don't want you out of my sight for time being. You'll be staying with me”

“Don’t I already?” you replied

A part of you was glad that you didn't have to go back to your parents' house alone again. The place never felt like a home to you, it was like abandoned furniture that provided shelter for the first few years of your life.

A place that was supposed to be crowded with happy memories but instead only had nightmares surrounding it. And you weren't sure if you could handle that right now. 

“Now come on out, I’ll make you some breakfast” Leah smiled, standing up and ruffling your hair on her way to the door.

You caught her by the wrist, making her look back 

“Thank you. For everything” you said sincerely, a small smile finally making its way to your lips in what felt like forever. 

“Anytime kiddo”

—-

The car parked outside the training centre. Leah killed the engine but neither of you attempted to get out of the car. 

Today was your first appointment with the team psychologist and to say you were nervous was an understatement. Talking about your feelings wasn't something you'd specialise in. Sarcasm, dark humour were the only ways you'd know how to converse. And if you've learned one thing in your time, it is that shrinks absolutely have no taste for good humour. 

Your leg bounced, your fingers continually fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, it had been ever since you'd set foot inside the car. Leah could practically feel the panic radiating off you.

“Hey, you've got this” she said, as she placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You absolutely fucking did not get this. You had panic, confusion, three questionable life choices, but this? Absolutely not. 

But what could you do, one minute you were sitting in the passenger seat and thinking about your chances to make a run for it, the next you were outside Ms Zoe’s office, your psychologist. The door being the only thing protecting you from the ‘we have to talk about how you feel’ devil inside.

“Hey” Leah said, coming to stand in front of you, bending a little to match your eyeline “Deep breaths. In and out. I know you're scared and it's okay to be. But remember I'm right outside. I'm not going anywhere. At any point you feel like you need me, you let Zoe know and she'll come get me. Okay?”

You did what she said, deep breaths, in and out. The reassurance that Leah was right outside, just behind the door, made it a little less scary. 

“Ready?” she asked 

“Ready” and with that you stepped inside, ready to face the music. 

True to her words, Leah stood outside the office the entire time, pacing the hallway. If you were nervous, Leah was ten times more nervous for you, she was just really good at hiding it. 

She was so engrossed in her thoughts, she didn't notice the footsteps approaching her, Beth and Wally. 

“Hey” Wally called out from behind, catching Leah off guard and making her jump

“You alright?” Beth asked 

The team could see the events of the past few weeks taking its toll on Leah. Everyone knew how much you meant to her, and seeing you like this definitely wasn't easy for her. But she was trying to be strong, for you, a shoulder you could rely on. 

The team saw right through her. People tend to forget, sometimes the supporter needs support too. And Arsenal was determined to be that support for her. For both of you.

“Yeah..” Leah said running a hand through her hair “Yeah, yeah I'm alright” 

Wally raised an eyebrow and Beth crossed her arms, both staring at her as if trying to get an answer from her soul itself. 

Leah sighed knowing she couldn't get out of it “I'm.. I'm just scared” she glanced at the door then back at her friends “That night at the graveyard, when I found her lying on the ground, unmoving and so still, I thought I lost her, that she…” 

She cut herself off, chill running down her spine even at the thought of it “Every night I think, what if I’d been a little late? What if she'd done more than drinking? What if next time I can't get to her soon and she….she disappears to some place I can't get her back from?”

A tear finally rolled down Leah’s cheek, admitting to fear that had been haunting her. Lia immediately stepped forward and engulfed her in a soft, comforting hug. Beth joined in too, rubbing soft circles on her back. 

“Nothing's going to happen to her” Wally said, voice steel firm as if trying to engrave the words into the stone “We’ll make sure of it” 

“Yeah mate, she's not alone anymore, we've got her” Beth chimed in “And we've got you too, both of you. So let us be there for you and for her, let us bear some of that weight on our shoulders too.”

“We are a family here and we look after our own. You've got us behind you every step of the way.” Wally said, holding Leah firm by her shoulders

“Thank you so much, I don't know what I'd do without you guys” Leah’s voice filled with nothing but sincerity.

“And You’ll never have to know” Beth reassured 

After an hour or so, the door cracked open once again and you stepped outside. You took slow steps out, face covered with exhaustion. Turns out sitting in a room and staring at someone takes a lot of energy. 

Cause that's exactly what you did. Zoe didn't force you to talk about anything you didn't want to. In fact the real reason you were visiting her in the first place wasn't touched upon at all, when she sensed that would just push you away instead of getting you to open up.

She asked you about your day, your hobbies, and your favourite movies. It felt like two strangers  trying to get to know each other and not a patient-doctor vibe which had been clawing at you all day  

Zoe let you sit in silence that wasn't exactly comfortable but provided a kind of peace you didn't know you needed, at the same time. 

You kept your answers short, three words maximum at a time. She didn't call you out for it. Zoe would simply hum and nod her head, letting it sit around for a minute or two, giving you time to add something if you wanted to but never forcing you to until eventually she moved on with something new. 

When you first entered the room, you were terrified and your form was a dead giveaway of that. You could barely lift up your head and meet her eyes, your hands were shaking and so were your legs. 

At the start you could barely answer without stuttering, taking a long time before answering even the simplest of questions. 

You were scared as if there were wrong answers to ‘what's your favourite colour?’. And Zoe, sensing just how tense you were, didn't dive straight into the heavy topic. You couldn't thank her enough for that.

Eventually, you calmed down a little and started contributing to the conversation more. As time passed, your shoulders relaxed and the idea of therapy didn't seem as scary as it did before. 

“See you again on Thursday?” Zoe asked as you were about to leave.

For a moment you didn't answer and Zoe didn't push either. She let you have your time, let you decide if you wanted to come again or not, at your own will. 

Eventually you nodded, agreeing to see her yet again. And Zoe’s face lit up at that, a proud smile making an appearance. 

“Great! Then I'll see you on Thursday” 

You were taken aback by your response. You were more than sure that Leah would have to drag your ass here for the next session, so agreeing to this without someone actually forcing you too, seemed like an improvement, a step towards healing. 

As you stepped out, expecting to be greeted by a familiar face, you were met with three. 

“What are you guys doing here?” you asked Beth and Wally, who were making their way over with Leah.

“Thought we'd keep this one company” Beth answered, head nodding towards Leah

The blonde defender took one look at you and immediately scanned your face, searching for a clue, a sign, anything that would tell her how it went.

“How was the first session?” Leah asked, always the one to get straight to the point. 

At first you thought about answering normally, a proper worded answer. But then again, why make anyone’s life easy when yours was going terribly?

“Terrible” you said with a little smirk “she asked about my favourite colour and I was scared to answer black when she was dressed head to toe in pink” 

Beth snorted and Wally tried her best to stifle a laugh. 

“Thought I was going to get negative 10 for wrong choice” 

Leah crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, a perfect way to convey ‘cut the crap and start talking real’ 

“Want to try that again?” Leah asked using that tone that didn't leave space for any other choice. 

You sighed, having to cut your fun short “it was… okay” 

“Okay?” Leah echoed 

“Yups, okay” you nodded. That was the best you could give her right now. The session wasn't terrible like you imagined it would be, also wasn't something you were eagerly looking forward to. So ‘okay’ was the best you could come up with 

“Okay… okay is good” Leah hummed seriously, taking even the smallest of victories. If anything Leah was more than ready to be faced by a screaming or crying teenager coming through that door and begging never to attend any other session. 

So when she was met by a version of you who cracked jokes and actually considered the first session ‘Okay’ was a big victory in itself and Leah would take it. 

“I may have also agreed to meet her again on Thursday” you muttered 

Leah blinked, so did Beth, so did Wally

“You did? Like at your own choice?” Leah asked, genuinely taken aback at your willingness to come again

You rolled your eyes “No. She held me at gunpoint and forced me to accept the offer”

“Well it was for a good cause so we’ll take it” Beth joked 

Leah breathed in relief. She was just glad your sassy self wasn't completely lost and although she wouldn't admit to it, she missed this side of you a lot. 

The hollow and empty shell you'd become was beginning to return to its old self little by little and that ignited a new hope in the blonde defender. 

Wally clapped her hands together “Time to celebrate you surviving your first session. How does a trip to Nando’s sound?”

“Tempting” your eyes lit up at the mention 

“Perfect, trip to Nando’s it is” Wally said and turned around falling in step with Beth, both heading towards the parking lot.

You and Leah followed, as she slung her arm around your shoulder, pulling you close and lowering her voice so only you could hear “I'm proud of you, kiddo”

“Thank you” you said looking up at her “and I could sit through the entire session only because I knew you were just on the other side of the door, waiting all along. It made everything less scary…and bearable” 

Leah squeezed your shoulder, pulling you closer and placing a soft kiss on your forehead 

“You'll always find me right behind you wherever you go. I'll never let you be all alone” she promised. 

And you smiled at the words. A small glimmer of hope making its way in your chest, that maybe everything would eventually be okay. 

——

A few weeks have gone by since you started therapy. You were starting to fall into a rhythm.

Three sessions a week, sometimes four depending on how much she missed you. And somewhere in these quiet sessions, you started…not entirely hating it so much. 

Sure you would still prefer not to go but something about a calm presence Zoe bought, giving you your time and space to open up, made you not protest to the idea as much.

After the first few sessions, the triggering topic was eventually brought up, although some part of you wished it never had. 

But you knew it was inevitable and one day or the other you were going to have to talk about anything else rather than ‘how was your day’

Zoe ensured to maintain a slow pace with it. Not pressuring, allowing you to take it one step at a time, letting you talk as you feel comfortable. But clinch further into recovery, always a step forward with each subsequent session.

In one of the early sessions, the subject of football was brought up and you immediately tensed at it, knowing exactly where she was heading with it.

“So after discussing things with Renée” Zoe started, noticing the rapid fall of your face and your dislike towards the topic “we think it would be best for you to take a break from football. To you know, focus on yourself more” 

It was not like you weren't expecting it, but the sentence still hit you like a ton of bricks, your body starting to tremble and your face losing all its colour.

“It’s not going to be permanent” Zoe was quick to assure “just a small break till we're sure you're okay to come back” 

“I’m fine! I don't need a break from football!” you snapped and instantly regretted it 

“I’m sorry” you apologised, your voice now small and hesitant “I just… I just don't want to leave football. It's all I have” 

“It’s okay. Thank you for apologising” Zoe said with a kind smile “Can you tell me why it's so important to you?”

The obvious answer would be because you were an athlete and played football your whole life and didn't want to sit out without any solid reason.

But you knew Zoe had an idea that your reason went beyond that and you were aware what answer she was looking for. 

“It’s..it’s stupid. It won't make any sense” 

Zoe shook her head immediately “Nothing you say here is stupid, Y/n” she was quick to dismiss your worries “Everything you feel is valid. And even if it doesn't make sense immediately, that's what I'm here for. We’ll analyse everything slowly till we can make sense of it all”

“Walk me through it, one step at a time” she added gently, her voice never rising in its pitch, never losing its calmness which gave you the tiniest courage to start opening up. 

You took a deep breath, trying to solve the puzzle in your mind first before you could word it out. 

“Football is my safe place” you spoke after a moment “It's one thing that I can do without it negatively affecting me. With blades and self-harm.. Well you know how things ended. But with football, I feel like I could make sense of my emotions, let out my aggression, my anger without it being harmful to anyone else or me for that matter” 

Zoe listened to every word intently 

“I’m not very good at expressing how I feel, the words just don't come naturally to me. But football does. It doesn't ask questions, doesn't require me to say anything. When things get hard, it just me and a ball ahead, which I can kick with all my might, over and over again till everything feels bearable again, till I'm calm enough to talk”

You were fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, head bowed down, not wanting to look into Zoe’s eyes. 

She didn't say a word, didn't give a reaction yet which was a silent encouragement in itself for you to keep on going and get everything off your chest. 

“The Champions League final is up ahead. I know this sounds stupid, but  Sammy and I always dreamed of being a part of it. And now that it's so close, I don't want to lose it. It would feel like breaking a promise.”

You sniffed trying to halt the tears that were threatening to spill “I’m sorry this all so childish-” 

“It’s not” Zoe interrupted gently “Nothing you said was childish. It was so brave of you to open up. I understand how hard that must have been and how much strength it requires to be truthful about your feelings” 

“Thank you for being honest with me” she continued “And listening to you, it's clear how important football is to you. How it's a place you turn to seek comfort. And I'm no one to take that away from you, to take away your safe space”

You whipped your head up at that, eyes wide as you waited for her to continue.

“How about we make an agreement? I'll talk to Renée and you can continue to play as long as you follow the rules and conditions laid down by your coach. You train as per schedule and don't overwork yourself that could cause more harm than good. And on days you feel like letting off some steam you let her know and I'm sure she could get someone to set up some drills that could help you with it. How does that sound?”

“Really? You'll let me play?” you asked, not entirely convinced

“Yes, Y/n. From what I understand football is an outlet for you to vent your emotions safely and I'm not about to take your safety net away as long as you agree to listen to your coach and take it slow” Zoe reassured “so do we have a deal” 

“Yeah. I promise I'll try to take it slow.” you nodded "Thank you for letting me keep it” 

“It was never mine to take”

And with that, you got to keep at least one of your safety nets. 

After that session you began to open up more, slowly letting her in. You walked her through your thoughts, your triggers, moments that urged you to harm yourself. And Zoe always guided you through safe methods to navigate your feelings. 

At times it felt useless, but she said nothing was meant to work immediately. You had to give your body time to adjust to new methods, to let yourself know that it's not worthy of pain but love and affection. She said it would be a lot of work but in the end it will all be worth it. 

And it was a lot of work. Having to control the impulse to reach for the blade is tough work on its own. 

But you did start to see improvements and so did the team. It was slow, painfully slow but your old self was starting to make an appearance once again. 

It didn't happen overnight, definitely not. But Zoe always quoted ‘slow and steady wins the Race’ and somewhere between the chase you started believing it too. 

——

If your life were any indication, nothing could go in a smooth flow for you. 

So your so-called healing journey was about to experience a dip one way or the other. You just didn't expect it to come so soon.

As the weeks passed by, you were starting to open up more, starting to contribute to conversation more. On lucky days you were even the one to initiate it.

You even cracked jokes here and there, more than often them being dark which would have Leah panicking instantly. What can you say, even after everything you loved being a menace 

Leah was starting to relax as well. She still hovered, still made sure you were within 5 feet distance, but her shoulders didn't tense as much when you excused yourself to use the bathroom. Her mind didn't immediately take her to a dark place when she couldn't spot you for 2 minutes or more. She held you to your promise and trusted you to reach out for her. 

When you thought you finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel, a day that you now dreaded was shoved in front of you to face off.

It used to be one of your favourite days but now it's something you don't know how to find your way out of.

It was a week until Sammy’s birthday. A day you both planned with so much excitement only for it to never be executed at all. 

Realistically you knew you should talk about it. If not Zoe, then Leah. She deserved that, after all you had a promise to fulfil.

But she also deserved some peace, a sense of normality that was finally returning to her after you had taken it away. And it wouldn't be fair to her to go through this again. To be the one who holds the pieces when you once again falter. 

So what did you ultimately decide? You decided to suck it all up, put on the happy mask and force yourself to get your shit together. Everyone around you deserved the healed version they had invested so much time and effort on and not the mess you were about to become. 

A genius person once quoted, Dance until your feet hurt; sing until your lungs hurt; act until you're William Hurt. You practically lived by this quote.

And boy was the william in you really starting to get hurt from the great act of ‘I’m fine’ you were trying to pull off. Every fake smile, every attempt at normal conversation took energy that was depleting fast enough. 

You weren't sure how much more of that you could continue.

The william in you was disappointed and kinda proud as well.

Disappointed because it was well aware of the destructive path you took when you first tried to put on this act. Proud because, well you pulled off an Oscar-worthy performance without any prior training. You had a real knack for acting.

You ever heard the dialogue, Healing isn't a straight line and shit? Yeah, you were exactly one step away from proving that theory.

You tried your best to gather yourself the entire week. Tried to distract yourself with football, with anything and everything, but as the day grew closer, your mind slipped further. 

And the hardest battle came knocking exactly one night before that day. 

You were in your bed, absolutely exhausted after practice. You pushed yourself hard, breaking all the conditions Zoe put in front of you, but this time not with the intention to hurt yourself, but instead to stop yourself from doing so. 

Your plan was to tire yourself to the point where you collapse on the bed and sleep the entire day, skipping her birthday entirely and not having to deal with it.

Why face the problem when you can run from it?

And your plan was thrown out the window when you found yourself, not asleep, not even close to it, dead awake on your bed, staring at the ceiling, hearing the tick of the clock, painfully waiting for it to hit midnight and welcome the day ahead. 

As time grew closer, so did panic. Your breath was starting to pick up, air clawing at your throat, your lungs deprived of oxygen.

But the scariest feeling of all? A familiar ache was making its way to your wrist. A similar need grew to carve something in an area that once presented a tortured artist. A desperation to put an end to your misery, a voice in your head to break all promises, a hand trying to reach out for something sharp, something that would cross all boundaries and land you on square one

Your mind, a battleground of tug of war. One side faces and promises you made to people that love and care about you. The other, your inner unhealed, tired version begging to put an end to it all.

One simple strike and an instant relief, an instant remedy that you craved for.

But will the instant relief be worth the betrayal you would put everyone through? Will it be worth the endless tears Leah’s eyes had seen through? Will it be worth breaking the wall of support your entire team has for you?

Will it be worth your effort to finally escape the trap that crawls at you?

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to take some deep breaths, trying to clear a passageway so your mind could think properly. But it was easier said than done. 

People think external wars are what break people. But those are ones that never understood that an internal war is far more destructive than any external wound. 

It takes hundreds of scrapes and buries to weaken the body, but it takes one singular voice in your mind to weaken the soul. 

A voice that goes beyond everything you work for, a voice that you know you shouldn't listen to, that hurts to hear but somehow the only thing that empowers everything at once. A harsh lullaby that you otherwise would run from, but find your legs betraying you and taking you exactly towards the source of it all. 

You open your eyes, stand up from the bed and head out of the room. Only this time you let the voice lose its powers and let the promise you made to certain someone a long time ago win.

You stop in front of Leah’s door, hands clammy, forehead glistening with sweat beads, breath still heaving in search of oxygen. 

You lift your arm, in an attempt to knock but hesitate and lower it. You try again, a deep breath, lifting your arm, about to knock but stop right before it touches the wood. Before you have a chance to lower it and rethink all your life choices, a soft voice hits your ear.

“Come in, kiddo. I know you're out there” Leah gently invites you in, cutting through all your doubts.

If anyone for a second thought that Leah didn't notice your deteriorating health, they couldn't be more wrong. Those hawk eyes never let anything pass them. Especially anything that's related to you. 

Leah had her fair share of chats with Zoe, and her advice was, never force you outright. Never push you to talk about something you weren't willing to. All there was to do, was make sure you knew Leah was there whenever you need her, that her arms were wide open to catch you when your legs eventually grew tired of running, that her ears would always listen to all the silent pleas your lips wouldn't voice, that her shoulder would stand strong when you ultimately collapsed. 

Sammy’s birthday has been at the back of her mind. Leah kept track of everything, even the smallest of moments that could affect you. And she knew this was going to hit you hard. She just had no idea of when or how.

So she stayed attentive the entire time, the same way she was on the pitch when the rival players reached too close to the defence line. Always ready to bounce in and provide support, always on standby, never letting her guard down.

So the night before Sammy’s birthday, there were two people who couldn't get any sleep. One, who was trying her best to fall asleep, but that was the last thing coming to her and the other, fighting sleep, because she was aware the other couldn't either. 

The door opened with a creak as you stepped in tentatively. Your eyes dart to every corner but to the figure in front of you, feeling guilty that maybe you're the one who woke her up, that maybe somehow the demons inside your head found a way out and disturbed her precious sleep. When practically the last thing you did was let the demon run loose, let out a cry for help even if that was the only thing that could save you.

“I’m sorry if I woke-” you tried to apologise, but Leah would be damned if she let you for something you didn't do. 

“I was up” she cut in gently and before you could say anything else she shifted in her bed, patting the empty space she created for you “Come here”

You finally let your eyes settle on her, to see her arms outstretched, an silent invitation for you to melt into them, an invitation to let your head rest against her chest, to hear the calm rhythm of her heartbeat, the only sound powerful enough to mute the voices in your head. 

The past week had tired you to your core, you had no energy to fight anything at all. So for once you didn't. You didn’t hesitate to accept the offer, your legs now moving with certainty to meet the person who was your safety after all. 

The moment your body collapsed in her arms, that's when all emotional shackles broke and your sobs filled the air. 

“Oh kiddo..” Leah held you tight, kissing your crown before resting her chin on top of your head. 

She didn't say it was going to be okay, she didn't say anything at all. No words could take the pain away from you and she was brutally aware of it. 

Right now, more than any words you needed a corner to let it all out, a corner she was ready to hold up.

So she did.

Till your sobs subsided into small hiccups, you grip loosened a little on her pyjama shirt but not letting go.

Leah rubbed soft circles on your back, keeping her voice very soft as she spoke “it’s Sammy’s birthday tomorrow, isn't it?”

You nodded against her chest

“I just miss her so much” you cried “All I want is for her to be here and celebrate her birthday the way she planned. She was so excited and now…it’s all gone”

Leah’s arm tightened around you more “I know you do and I’m so sorry she isn't here with us now” she whispered in your hair “But she wouldn't want you to be sad, especially on her birthday. The Sammy I knew would want you to crack jokes, make terrible cake, tell funny stories about your time together”

“That sounds like her” you mumbled against her chest

“So how about we celebrate her day in a way she wanted to? In the morning we could visit her, take a beautiful bouquet of flowers she likes. And the rest of the day we could do everything you both planned” Leah said gently “I know it won't be the same but this is how we honour her. And you don't have to do anything alone” 

“Promise?” you looked up at her, voice barely audible 

She kissed your forehead again, more deliberate contact this time “I promise” 

She stroked through your hair as your breathing began to regulate, your body stopped trembling and sleep was finding its way back to your eyes. 

“Thank you” she whispered “for finding me when things got hard” 

“Well, I had a promise to keep” you replied sleepily

“You did. Thank you for keeping it. I'm so proud of you, kiddo” Leah smiled against your hair “Sleep now, Y/n. I've got you”

And you drifted off. Feeling safe in the arms of the person who never lets you fall. 

Whatever tomorrow brings, you were now ready to face it with a smile and with Leah by your side all along.

——

Arsenal did it. Finally after 18 years they were the champions of Europe again! 

The title your team had worked so hard for, was finally won. They club everyone put their bodies on line for was finally engraved onto the trophy.  

You had come on at half-time and Barcelona couldn't grasp what hit them. The fresh legs worked like a miracle, defenders unable to keep up with your speed. 

One moment they would be blocking you and the next you would have ditched them, leaving them breathless and be on the opposite end receiving a pass. 

No one could keep up with you, your form nothing more than a blur from their view point. One moment here, gone the next.

And that is what created the miracle that led the team to their ultimate victory.

As the game approached its final moments, the pressure was building high for both teams, everyone desperate for a goal. And that's when Arsenal earned a corner, a chance to seal their fate. 

The ball was whipped in, landing at Mariona’s feet who then cleared it to Beth. From the corner of her eye, Beth saw you running towards the goal, a chance at your boot. 

Without further thought, she sent the ball your way, a beautiful assist from her end. 

You saw the ball coming and time stilled, nothing standing in the way of you and the goal. You lifted your foot and with a swift one touch, launched the ball straight towards the net. 

Cata dived in a futile attempt to save it, but the ball was rocketed with so much power, there was no stopping it. 

The net rippled and so did the stadium. Fans shouting and screaming on top of their lungs, chanting your name and slogans.

You stood stunned for a second, not believing you actually scored the winning goal. That was until you heard your teammates coming for you and cheering loudly. 

You turned and pointed at the sky. No one needed any explanation as to whom the goal was dedicated to, the person's name clear as day.

Your teammates engulfed you in a bone-crushing group hug, sending you down on to the grass, everyone piling on top of the other. 

“What a banger kiddo!”

“Way to go, Y/n!”

“That was a bloody rocket!”

“That’s our wonder kid right there!”

“Arsenal’s starkid!”

With loads of hugs and praises, everyone went to their original position and the game resumed for its final minutes. 

The team's spirit was high and the huge grin on your face didn't leave until the final whistle was blown. Actually it didn't fade for the rest of the evening and you were sure it wasn't about to for a while. 

With a gold medal around your neck and player of the match trophy in your hand, your chest filled with warmth and contentment it hadn't experienced for months. 

But even in the euphoria of it all, a certain someone didn't leave your mind. The one that was with you from the moment you stepped onto that field. The one who was by your side when you kicked the ball towards the net, your strength combined with their silent support from the other side, the result of which was a trophy your team was lifting with pride. 

It was as much as their goal as it was yours and no one could convince you otherwise. 

They were the first person on your mind when you scored, looking towards the stands and hoping to catch a glimpse of their face, a smile on their lips once again. 

Hoping the universe would be kind enough to let you have just one, a tiny little glimpse, a little peek, a small glance, anything at all of your best friend in the proudest moment of your life. The moment you wished to share with her one day. The moment you both dreamed of ever since you put on the first jersey, tied the lace of your first ever boots. 

As unrealistic as it was, your head still turned towards the family section, eyes searching for the familiar figure, heart breaking all over when you found her designated seat empty. 

But you didn't let it affect you, you couldn't. Sammy wouldn't want you to. So with her presence within you, you played the best game of your life, her voice cheering you on always at the back of your mind. 

And so as the coach stopped in front of Arsenal training centre, marking the return of the players to London, on their home soil, you got off and ran. 

Ran towards the person your eyes desperately searched for, your heart desperately longer for. Belongings not cared for, bags forgotten, you didn't pay attention to anything else but reaching the location your legs had memorised the route of. 

There was going to be a parade, a chance for the fans to celebrate the joy with the players. But before you shared the joy with anyone else you wanted to share it with her. 

So you took off the moment you got off the bus, the cemetery only 20 minutes away from the centre and with the speed your legs carried you with, you were bound to reach within 10. Even if it had been an hour away, it wouldn't have mattered, you would have still run to get to her. 

You skidded to a stop in front of her grave, bending and placing your hands on your knees as you attempted to catch your breath. 

Wiping the sweat from your forehead, you glanced up and beamed a smile, your chest puffing in and out, still working to steady your breathing.

“Sammy…” the pride and happiness clear in your voice “We did it. We fucking did it. Arsenal are the champions of Europe!”

You waited as if awaiting a response, awaiting to hear a voice that was never about to come. Awaiting a bear hug she always engulfed you in whenever you won a match.

“I scored a goal!” you beamed, trying to put on a cheerful voice and nurturing a false hope that a sweet voice was just about to bless your ears.

Still nothing. 

“I..I - uh scored the winning goal” your voice cracked, tears starting to pool beneath, threatening to spill any minute “also got the player of the match trophy” 

No response. You swallowed hard, waiting for the congratulation you heart yearned for to come any minute.

“You assshole. Still giving me silent treatment I see” you laughed out or perhaps you cried out. You weren't sure

“C’mon Sammy, just say something” you requested 

“Anything please” a tear finally escaped your eyes, and your voice, filled with nothing but longing for something that was long gone “I promise I'll laugh even if it's a terrible joke”

“Not even an ‘I’m proud of you’?” you practically pleaded for something that wasn't possible.

“She is proud of you, kiddo” a voice called out from behind you, a hand gently finding its place on your shoulder “So very proud”

You whipped your head to see Leah standing behind you. 

“We all are” the voice of your captain, Kim Little, was heard next 

Behind Leah, stood your entire team, all showing up to pay their respect, nodding their heads at the words of the captain, sympathetic looks on all their faces.

“What is everyone doing here? And how did you know where I was?” you questioned

On the way over to the centre, your knees bounced, your hand fiddling for the entire bus journey. Leah noticed and so did the team.

Leah didn't have to ask to know what was going on in your mind. She knew the very first stop you wanted to make was at Sammy’s. The very first person you wanted to share this feeling with was her.

But before she could offer you a ride and ask to come with you, your little legs had already run off, leaving her and your entire team calling out for you.

She was sure the voices weren’t even registered by you. And as she was about to take off to come and get you, the entire team asked to join, to be there for you and to also show their gratitude and respect for Sammy. Everyone was well aware of the role she played in your life and no one questioned it when you always mentioned and gave her credit for you being where you are today. 

Leah got on her knees, cupped your face and stroked her thumb across your cheek, gently wiping off the tears you didn't realise were falling. 

“Where else would you rather be” she answered softly, “And we are here to thank her too.”

You swallowed hard, leaning into Leah’s touch. Her thumb lingered on your cheek. 

“She’d be yelling louder than all of us right now,” Leah whispered, voice shaking with a smile. “Probably telling everyone she taught you that shot.”

A wet laugh escaped you, and Leah smiled at the sound.

The rest of the team formed a respectful semi-circle a short distance away, giving you space but still showing their presence.

“I wanted her to see it. The match, the goal, every minute of it” you sniffed trying to get your tears in control “it was our dream. We planned it since we were kids. That I would be playing and she would be in the crowd cheering the loudest. She promised she would”

“And she did. She cheered the loudest” Leah assured, not missing a beat “And she saw every minute of that match, the goal you scored, the player of the match trophy you received. She was there throughout.”

“She may not have been there physically but she was always with you..over here” Leah said pointing at your heart “over in the crowd of fans chanting your name. And she's here with you, with us right now saying she'll always watch over you. So don't ever forget that kiddo”

You threw yourself forward and Leah let you collapse in her arms. Hiding your face in her chest, your tears falling down at a faster rate than you could stop them. 

Leah squeezed you tight, her chin resting on the top of your head, swaying slightly as if calming a child.

Beth walked silently to the headstone and gently placed a small bouquet of white lilies they must have brought with them onto the fresh earth.

Leah looked down, past your shoulder, at Sammy's name etched in the stone. Her voice was just above a whisper, raw with emotion

“Thank you Sammy” she whispered, a solemn yet grateful tone “for never leaving her side and being a friend she could always count on. Thank you for always looking out for her” 

she expressed her gratitude in a way she knew, on her behalf and the team’s, all while gently stroking through your hair.

Wally, reaching closer, placed a soothing hand on your back “C’mon now, Pumpkin. The parade begins in an hour, London is waiting to celebrate their starkid” she said gently 

Leah pulled back and wiped the tears from your face “Ready?” 

You nodded as she stood up and offered her hand. You linked your fingers with hers as everyone turned towards the exit ready to head back. 

“Wait” you said, turning back and getting on your knees once again in front of Sammy’s stone.

Leah furrowed her eyebrows and watched in confusion as you removed the medal that had been around your neck ever since it had been draped over there since the final.

You held it in your hands, bringing it closer to your lips and kissing the shiny gold coin before carefully lowering it down on your best friend's stone

“Don’t worry, I'll always kiss the brick before throwing” you winked, a soft chuckle escaping your lips at the thought of the judgy look Sammy would have given you for such a cheesy line. She was never really a fan of those. 

“This belongs to you. All of my achievements do, as I would have never gotten here if not for you. Thank you for being the bestest friend a person could ever ask for.” You wiped a tear that your eyes once again started pouring down “Take care of it for me, yeah?” 

If Leah and the team weren't crying before, they definitely did now. The pure love and admiration you had for Sammy even had the universe in shambles.

You reached forward and hugged the stone tight, as if it were Sammy herself, right under your arms, muttering under your breath and hoping, somewhere above she was listening to every word spoken, catching every tear fallen. 

“I love you Sammy and I always will. You'll always be with me, no matter how old I grow or how many new people I meet. I'll never forget you and I'll carry your memory with me wherever life takes me. Always!”

——

A/n

To everyone who requested it, I'm sorry it took me so long so get it out. But I hope you like it 🤗

Let me know what you guys think! Your responses make my day 💗