𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 .

alexia who treats your body like territory she needs to claim over and over again. every single day she makes sure you leave the house carrying visible and hidden proof that you’re hers. a fresh hickey just above your collarbone. teeth marks on the inside of your wrist. a dark bruise on your hip that only she gets to see when she peels your clothes off later.

alexia who gets quiet and dangerously intense when the possessive streak hits. she’ll back you against the wall, cup your face with both hands, stare straight into your eyes and growl, “you’re mine, preciosa. only mine.” then she bites your bottom lip hard before soothing it with her tongue, like she’s sealing the words into your skin.

alexia who spends a ridiculous amount of time marking your neck and chest. she sucks slow, deliberate hickeys right over your pulse point, then moves lower to your tits, pulling your nipple into her mouth and biting just hard enough to make you gasp. she loves pulling back to admire the wet, bruised marks she left and dragging her thumb over them possessively.

alexia who loves fucking you slow and deep while she marks you. she’ll pin your wrists above your head with one hand, rolling her hips against yours as she bites and sucks along your collarbones, shoulders, and throat. every thrust is punctuated with a low, raspy “mine.”

alexia who has a special obsession with marking your inner thighs. before she eats you out she always bites and sucks a trail of bruises there, close enough to your pussy that you feel them throb with every heartbeat. she’ll kiss and lick over the fresh marks while murmuring, “this is all for me, amor. no one else gets this close.”

alexia who after every win (or even just a good training session) throws you on the bed and methodically works her way down your body, leaving a map of ownership. throat, breasts, stomach, hips, inner thighs. she doesn’t stop until you’re covered in her signatures.

alexia who pulls you into her lap constantly. she’ll tug your shirt down just enough to expose the top of your breast and latch on, sucking a deep, claiming mark right above your heart while her strong arms keep you trapped against her. “so everyone knows who this belongs to,” she whispers against your skin.

alexia who gets off on seeing her marks on you when you’re on top. when you’re riding her, she sits up, wraps one arm around your waist and bites your tits and shoulders while guiding your hips. she loves tilting her head back to watch her teeth marks move with every bounce.

alexia who loves bending you over her lap when she’s feeling particularly jealous. she’ll pull your pants down slowly, rub her palm over your ass first, then start spanking in a steady rhythm while murmuring, “this is mine. so pretty and all mine.” the harder you squirm, the harder she spanks and the more she repeats “mine.”

alexia who leaves secret morning marks before you both leave for work. sometimes soft and lingering, sometimes rough and urgent. she’ll press you against the bathroom counter, pull your leg up around her waist and suck a dark hickey high on your inner thigh so you feel her every time you move.

alexia who during sex constantly talks possession. “look at me.” bite. “say you’re mine.” harder bite. “again.” she won’t let you come until you’re chanting it, voice broken and desperate.

alexia who’s ftercare could only be described as pure worship. she kisses and licks every single mark she left, running her fingers over the bruises like she’s admiring her artwork. she’ll pull you tight against her chest and murmur against your hair, “you wear me so well. my pretty, marked-up girl.”

⸻

the sun hung high over the mediterranean, casting a golden shimmer across the calm water. 

your new yacht (the alexia insist she bought for you to gift her for her birthday) drifted lazily, anchored far from any shore or prying eyes. the deck was wide and open, luxurious cushions spread out in the centre like an invitation. 

alexia lay on her back, stretched out in nothing but a tiny black bikini bottom, her toned body glistening with a light sheen of sunscreen and sea spray. her dark hair fanned out around her, a few strands dancing in the warm wind of the sea.

you were beside her, propped on one elbow, tracing lazy patterns across her bare stomach with your fingertips. the two of you had spent the morning christening the boat in every way that mattered- laughter, champagne, sun on skin. now it was quiet, just the gentle lap of waves against the hull and the occasional creak of the yacht.

alexia turned her head toward you, a soft, content smile playing on her lips. “this is perfect, amor” she murmured, voice low and warm. “you spoil me too much.”

You leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to her shoulder, then her collarbone. “you deserve it. happy birthday, ale.”

she hummed in response, her hand sliding up your arm, pulling you closer. the kiss started soft- lips brushing, tasting the salt on each other’s skin. but it deepened quickly, the way it always did with her. 

her tongue teased yours, a quiet moan vibrating between you as your hand wandered lower, cupping her breast and thumbing over her nipple until it peaked under your touch.

alexia arched into you, her body responding instantly. you shifted, moving over her, settling your weight between her parted thighs. the bikini bottom was already damp, and you could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric. 

you kissed down her neck, sucking lightly at the spot that always made her shiver, then lower, trailing your mouth over her chest. you took one nipple between your lips, swirling your tongue while your hand kneaded the other.

“mm… amor,” she breathed, fingers threading through your hair. the wind picked up for a moment, tousling your hair into a messy tangle. you didn’t care. you wanted her to see you like this- flushed, eager, completely hers.

you continued downward, kissing along the defined lines of her abs, nipping at her hip bone. alexia’s breathing grew heavier, her hips shifting restlessly beneath you. 

you hooked your fingers into the sides of her bikini and peeled it down her long legs, tossing it aside. she was bare and glistening already, her pussy flushed and inviting in the bright sunlight.

you settled fully between her thighs, pushing them wider apart. for a moment you just looked at her- the way her chest rose and fell, the flush creeping across her cheeks, those dark eyes watching you with hungry anticipation.

then you lowered your head.

your first lick was slow, deliberate, dragging the flat of your tongue from her entrance up to her clit. alexia gasped sharply, her hand tightening in your messy hair. 

you did it again, savoring her taste- warm, sweet, addictive. you circled her clit with the tip of your tongue before sucking it gently between your lips.

“joder… that’s it amor,” she moaned, her head tipping back against the cushion. 

her thighs trembled on either side of your face as you worked her open with long, languid strokes. you pushed your tongue inside her, fucking her with it slowly, then pulled back to focus on her swollen clit again.

you glanced up at her through your lashes, eyes wide and bright, locked onto hers. the messy strands of your hair whipped across your forehead in the breeze, but you didn’t break eye contact. 

alexia looked down at you, lips parted, cheeks flushed deeper. the sight of you between her legs- eyes pretty and focused only on her pleasure made her moan louder.

you slipped two fingers into her, curling them upward as your mouth sealed around her clit, sucking rhythmically. alexia’s hips bucked, grinding against your face. you let her, encouraging it with a low hum that vibrated through her core.

“dios mio, your eyes… like that,” she panted, voice breaking. “don’t stop looking at me.”

you didn’t. you kept your gaze fixed upward, watching every flicker of pleasure cross her face while you devoured her. your fingers pumped steadily, curling against that spot inside her that made her thighs shake. your tongue flicked fast and firm over her clit, then slowed to broad, wet strokes that had her dripping down your chin.

the boat rocked gently beneath you, the motion adding to the rhythm. sunlight warmed your back as you ate her out with devotion- messy, hungry, completely lost in her. your free hand gripped her thigh, holding her open while you worked her closer to the edge.

alexia’s moans grew louder, unrestrained. her fingers tugged at your hair, not guiding, just holding on as her body tensed. “i’m- joder, I’m so close…”

you doubled down, sucking harder on her clit, fingers thrusting deeper and faster. your eyes stayed locked on hers, pretty and intense, letting her see exactly how much you loved this- loved her spread out on the deck you bought her, coming apart under your mouth in the open air.

she came with a sharp cry, back arching hard off the cushions, thighs clamping around your head. her pussy clenched rhythmically around your fingers as you kept licking her through it, gentler now but no less devoted. 

you drank down every drop, savouring the way she shuddered and gasped your name like it was the only word she knew.

even as the orgasm faded, you stayed between her legs, pressing soft, soothing kisses to her sensitive folds, looking up at her with those same pretty eyes. your hair was even messier now, wild from the breeze and her fingers.

alexia’s chest heaved as she came down, a lazy, satisfied smile spreading across her face. she tugged you up gently, pulling you into a deep, filthy kiss that tasted of her.

for a while you just lay there together, skin to skin, letting the sun warm you both. your fingers traced idle circles on her stomach while hers ran through your wind-tousled hair, smoothing the messy strands the breeze kept playing with. 

the boat creaked softly beneath you. everything felt perfect- peaceful, intimate, and still buzzing with heat.

but the longer you lay there pressed against her, the more you felt it: the aching need between your own legs. 

you were soaked. 

the taste of her, the sounds she’d made, the sight of her coming on your tongue- it had left you dripping, your bottoms ruined and your thighs slick. 

you shifted restlessly, pressing your hips against her thigh, and Alexia noticed immediately.

a knowing smirk curved her lips. “already?” she teased, voice low. her hand slid down your back and cupped your ass, squeezing. “show me.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. you rolled on top of her, straddling her hips for a moment before shifting higher. alexia’s eyes darkened with fresh hunger as she looked up at you- flushed cheeks, messy hair, nipples hard and obvious in the bright sunlight.

you peeled off your own bikini bottoms and tossed them aside, revealing just how wet you were. your pussy glistened, slick coating your folds and inner thighs. alexia’s breath hitched at the sight.

“fuck, amor… look at you,” she murmured, hands gripping your hips.

you moved into position, carefully sliding one of her legs over yours until your soaked cunts pressed together. 

the first contact made you both moan- hot, slick, and perfect. you rocked your hips slowly at first, grinding your clit directly against hers. the wet sounds of your pussies sliding together filled the open deck, obscene and loud in the quiet sea air.

alexia’s hands guided your movements, pulling you down harder against her. “buena chica… just like that,” she gasped, her own hips rolling up to meet you.

you leaned forward, bracing your hands on either side of her head so your bodies were flush together. your messy hair fell around both of you like a curtain as you started grinding with more purpose. 

the friction was electric. every roll of your hips dragged your swollen clit over hers, mixing your wetness until you were both slippery and shining.

the boat’s gentle rocking added to the rhythm, helping you find a steady, delicious pace. 

you scissored harder, panting into her mouth as you kissed her sloppily. breasts pressed together, nipples brushing with every movement. the heat between your joined pussies was intense- slick, hot, and getting wetter by the second.

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” alexia groaned against your lips, one hand sliding up to tangle in your messy hair. she tugged lightly, making you moan louder as you ground down on her. your clits rubbed perfectly with every thrust, sending sparks of pleasure racing through both of you.

you sat up a little, changing the angle so you could watch where you were connected. 

the sight was filthy: your glistening pussies mashed together, lips sliding and kissing with every roll of your hips. alexia’s eyes followed yours, her mouth falling open in a silent moan as she watched too.

you picked up the pace, riding her with short, urgent snaps of your hips. the wet, rhythmic slap of skin and the squelch of your combined arousal echoed across the deck. 

sweat and sea spray mixed on your skin. your messy hair stuck to your neck and shoulders now, but you didn’t care- all you cared about was the building pressure, the way alexia’s clit throbbed against yours, the way her hands gripped your ass and pulled you down harder.

“i’m close again,” she gasped, voice breaking beautifully. “don’t stop amor. don’t… joder, right there-”

you leaned down, pressing your forehead to hers, eyes locked as you quickened your pace. your messy strands brushed her face with every thrust. the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until it snapped.

you came first, crying out as your pussy clenched and gushed against hers. the orgasm crashed through you hard, hips stuttering but still grinding, prolonging the pleasure. 

alexia followed right after, moaning your name loud enough that it probably carried across the water. her thighs shook, nails digging into your hips as she came, her slick mixing with yours in a messy, beautiful flood.

you kept moving through it, slower now, riding out the aftershocks together. the ocean breeze cooled your overheated skin as you finally collapsed on top of her, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat and cum.

alexia wrapped her arms around you, kissing the top of your head, then your messy hair, then your lips.

“best birthday ever,” she whispered with a breathless laugh.

you smiled against her neck, the yacht rocking gently beneath your tangled bodies, the sun still shining bright overhead.

⸻

two weeks was not a long time.

you knew that.

everyone knew that.

two weeks was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

it wasn’t enough time to know someone completely. it wasn’t enough time to understand every part of them, every habit, every little thing they did when nobody was watching.

but somehow, two weeks was enough for alessia to become part of your routine.

and that was strange.

because you didn’t let people become part of your routine easily.

your routine was important.

it was yours.

it was the thing that kept you grounded when everything else felt uncertain.

when you left barcelona, you thought the hardest part would be missing the people.

you were wrong.

the hardest part was not knowing what came next.

because in barcelona, everything was automatic.

you knew where you belonged.

you knew who you were.

you were alexia putellas’ little sister, yes, but you were also you. you had built your own name. you had your own career. your own reputation.

in london, nobody knew the version of you that existed outside football.

and somehow, alessia had started learning her without you even realising.

⸻

it started with the mornings.

which was ridiculous, because you had never been a morning person.

everyone knew that.

back at barca, the girls used to say that before coffee you were “not a person, just a warning sign.”

you always told them that they dramatic.

they always told you they were correct.

but somehow, alessia had managed to become part of your mornings.

not in an overwhelming way.

not in the way that would have made you pull away.

she didn’t force conversation.

she didn’t knock on your door or demand your attention.

she simply appeared.

usually with coffee.

“good morning.”

you looked at her. “morning.”

alessia smiled.

still, after all this time, she looked slightly surprised every time you answered.

as if she still expected you to ignore her.

you didn’t know why.

you always answered.

maybe not with much.

but you answered.

⸻

“you’re getting better.”

you looked at alessia as you walked into training.

“at what?”

“english.”

you shook your head. “no.”

“yes.”

“no.”

alessia laughed. “you literally just argued with me in english.”

you paused.

because unfortunately, she had a point.

you hated when people were right. “still… no.”

“you’re impossible.”

you looked at her. “you say… a lot.”

“because it’s true.”

and for a second, you smiled.

a real one.

small.

quick.

but there.

alessia stopped walking.

not because she had never seen you smile before.

she had.

but because she was starting to realise how rare it was.

and how much she liked being one of the people who got to see it.

⸻

the others noticed too.

not because you suddenly became different.

you didn’t.

that was the funny thing.

you were still you.

still quiet.

still serious.

still the person who looked like she was personally offended by the existence of loud noises before training.

but around alessia?

there were changes.

tiny ones.

you sat closer.

you answered faster.

you looked for her when something happened.

you didn’t even notice you were doing it.

that was the part everyone found interesting.

because you were not someone who was unaware.

you noticed everything.

except yourself.

⸻

“she likes you.”

you looked at mariona. “no.”

she raised an eyebrow.

you hated that look.

because it meant she already knew she was right.

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you were going to.”

“i wasn’t.”

“you were.”

mariona smiled. “chiquita.”

you immediately frowned. “don’t.”

“you’re doing the thing.”

“what thing?”

“pretending you don’t care.”

you looked away.

because that was unfair.

you did care.

you cared a lot.

that was the problem.

you just didn’t know what to do with it.

you had spent your entire life being surrounded by people who loved you.

your family.

your teammates.

your friends.

but this felt different.

not because it was bigger.

because it was unfamiliar.

you weren’t used to someone new becoming important so quickly.

especially someone like alessia.

someone warm.

someone open.

someone who was the complete opposite of you.

⸻

alessia, meanwhile, was convinced she was being completely normal.

which was impressive.

because everyone around her knew she wasn’t.

“you learned her coffee order?”

kyra looked at her like she had just admitted to something illegal.

alessia frowned. “yes.”

“why?”

“because she likes it.”

kyra stared. “lessi.”

“what?”

“you’ve known her for two weeks.”

“and?”

“and you don’t even know my coffee order.”

alessia looked offended. “that’s different.”

“how?”

“because you’re you, you change it up everytime.”

kyra narrowed her eyes. “rude.”

but she laughed.

because she knew.

everyone knew.

alessia was always kind.

that was not new.

but this was different.

there was an effort there.

a care.

a softness.

and alessia didn’t seem to understand that she was doing anything unusual.

⸻

the jacket was what really made people notice.

because everyone had seen it.

you wearing alessia’s jacket after training.

and everyone knew alessia.

she was generous.

she was kind.

but she wasn’t someone who constantly gave pieces of herself away.

not like that.

not without thinking.

especially not to someone who was still technically a stranger.

“you know you’re going to freeze without that, right?”

lotte said it casually.

alessia looked at her.

“what?”

“your jacket.”

alessia glanced over.

you were standing with laia, still wearing it.

“she was cold, and i’m used to the cold.”

lotte nodded.

“you’re an idiot it what you are.”

and then she walked away.

leaving alessia slightly confused.

because to her, it was obvious.

you were cold.

she had a jacket.

problem solved.

she didn’t understand why everyone acted like she had done something special.

but the thing alessia didn’t see was that you were doing the same.

you weren’t as obvious.

you never were.

you weren’t bringing her coffee because you didn’t know how to say you wanted to make her day easier.

you didn’t buy extra snacks because you didn’t know how to say you thought about her when she wasn’t there.

you just did things.

quietly.

naturally.

like when you noticed she always forgot to bring tape.

you started carrying extra.

when you noticed she liked staying behind after training to practise finishing.

you stayed too.

when you noticed she was struggling with a certain drill.

you adjusted your passes without making it obvious.

alessia thought you were just being a good teammate.

everyone else knew better.

it’s just that the problem was that neither of you understood what was happening.

you thought you were just comfortable with her.

alessia thought she was just helping you.

both of you were wrong.

because somewhere between the coffee, the jackets, the quiet conversations and the moments where neither of you needed words, something had shifted.

not dramatically.

not enough that either of you could name it.

just enough that when alessia walked into a room, your eyes found her.

just enough that when you weren’t there, she noticed.

just enough that everyone else had started seeing it before the two people involved.

and maybe that was the most dangerous part.

because feelings were easy when they were obvious.

it was the quiet ones that got you.

the ones that slipped in unnoticed.

the ones that felt completely normal until one day they didn’t.

and neither of you were ready for the moment when you realised.

⸻

alessia had always considered herself someone who understood people.

it was one of the things she was proud of.

she noticed when someone was upset, even if they tried to hide it. she noticed when a teammate needed encouragement, when someone needed space, when someone needed a little bit of kindness.

she was good at reading other people.

which was why it was almost embarrassing that she was completely incapable of reading herself.

because everyone else had figured it out.

everyone.

except her.

⸻

it started with taylor.

which was probably the worst possible person to notice something because taylor noticed everything.

she had that older sister kind of awareness.

the kind where she didn’t need someone to say something because she could usually tell from their behaviour.

and alessia’s behaviour had become impossible to ignore.

they were sitting together after training, waiting around before heading home, and alessia was scrolling through her phone.

except she wasn’t really scrolling.

she was staring.

taylor glanced over.

“you’ve been looking at the same thing for five minutes.”

alessia looked up. “i have not.”

“you have.”

“i’m just replying to messages.”

taylor looked at her. “you’re not even on messages.”

alessia looked down.

she wasn’t.

she immediately locked her phone.

“okay.”

taylor smiled. “who is it?”

alessia frowned. “what?”

“who are you thinking about?”

“nobody.”

“less.”

“what?”

“you’re terrible at lying.”

alessia rolled her eyes. “i’m not lying.”

taylor didn’t answer.

she didn’t need to.

because after a few seconds, alessia sighed. “it’s just y/n.”

taylor’s expression changed slightly.

not surprised.

more like someone who had just had their suspicions confirmed.

“what about y/n?”

“nothing.”

“lessi.”

“we’re just friends.”

“i didn’t say you weren’t.”

alessia paused.

because that was annoying.

because taylor wasn’t actually accusing her of anything.

she was just asking.

and somehow that made it worse.

⸻

“i just think she’s interesting.”

that was the explanation alessia had been using.

because it was true.

you were interesting.

you were completely different from anyone she had known before.

you weren’t impressed by things most people were impressed by.

you didn’t care about attention.

you didn’t care about being liked.

you cared about football.

your family.

the people you trusted.

and that was it.

alessia found that refreshing.

“interesting,” taylor repeated.

“yes.”

“is that why you know her coffee order?”

alessia looked at her. “yes.”

“is that why youre learning spanish?”

“yes.”

“is that why you drive in early so you can pick her up?”

alessia opened her mouth.

then closed it.

because she didn’t have a good answer.

taylor smiled. “right.”

“it’s just easier.”

“easier?”

“yeah.”

“lessi.”

“what?”

“you live nowhere near her.”

alessia looked away. “still.”

taylor shook her head, trying not to laugh.

because the funniest part was that alessia genuinely didn’t see it.

⸻

kyra was less subtle.

kyra was never subtle.

“you’re down horrendous.”

alessia almost choked on her water. “what?”

kyra looked completely serious. “down horrendous.”

“i don’t even know what that means.”

“yes, you do.”

“no, i don’t.”

“yes, you do.”

“kyra.”

“lessi.”

they stared at each other.

and then kyra laughed. “you’re so obvious.”

“i’m literally not.” alessia frowned.

“you are.”

“how?”

kyra started counting on her fingers

“you learned her language.”

“because she’s new.”

“you know what coffee she likes.”

“because i saw.”

“you bring extra food because she liked your protein bar once.”

“because she liked it.”

“you give her your jacket.”

“because she was cold.”

kyra looked at her. “do you hear yourself?”

alessia went quiet.

because when kyra listed it like that, it did sound like a lot.

but it still didn’t feel like anything.

it just felt like caring.

and alessia cared about people.

that wasn’t new.

“i just want her to feel comfortable.”

kyra’s expression softened.

because that answer was the most alessia answer possible.

she wasn’t doing it because she expected something back.

she wasn’t doing it because she wanted attention.

she genuinely just wanted you to feel like you belonged.

and that was exactly why it was so obvious.

⸻

but lotte was the one who made it worse.

because lotte never pushed.

she didn’t tease the way kyra did.

she didn’t joke.

she just observed.

and somehow that was more intimidating.

“have you ever thought that maybe you like her?”

alessia looked at her.

then laughed.

because obviously that was ridiculous.

“what?”

lotte shrugged. “i’m just asking.”

“she’s my teammate.”

“that wasn’t my question.”

alessia opened her mouth.

nothing came out.

lotte smiled slightly. “you don’t have to answer now.”

“because there’s nothing to answer.”

“okay.”

and the way lotte said okay somehow annoyed alessia.

because it sounded like she didn’t believe her.

⸻

later that evening, the four of them sat together.

and alessia found herself explaining everything without even realising.

how you were different.

how you barely spoke but somehow always made people feel like you were listening.

how you remembered little things.

how you had this serious expression that made everyone think you hated them, but actually you were just quiet.

how you were impossible to read.

“i don’t even know if she likes me as a friend,” alessia admitted.

kyra looked at taylor.

then lotte.

all three of them had the same expression.

which alessia hated.

“what?”

“nothing,” taylor said.

alessia sighed.

“stop saying that.”

“you’re just funny.”

“why?”

“because you’re sitting here telling us about how you’ve completely rearranged parts of your life around someone you’ve known for two and a hafl weeks and you still think you dont like her like that.”

alessia frowned.

“she’s just like…”

“like what?”

“she’s kind.”

lotte tilted her head.

“is she?”

“yes.”

“is she kind to everyone?”

alessia went quiet.

because no.

not exactly.

you were polite.

you were respectful.

but you weren’t like that with everyone.

you didn’t remember everyone’s preferences.

you didn’t quietly help everyone.

you didn’t give everyone your attention.

just some people.

and alessia was starting to realise she might be one of them.

but she still wasn’t there yet.

she wasn’t ready to understand what everyone else already knew.

because for alessia, liking someone had always been simple.

she liked people.

she dated people.

she had crushes.

she understood attraction.

but this?

this felt different.

because it wasn’t just that she thought you were pretty.

it wasn’t just that she enjoyed being around you.

it wasn’t just that she wanted to know you better.

it was that she had started building parts of her day around you without even thinking.

and that scared her.

because she had never done that before.

not for anyone.

⸻

“you know what i think?” kyra said finally.

alessia looked at her. “what?”

“i think you’re scared.”

alessia laughed. “of y/n?”

“no.”

kyra smiled. “of how much you like being around her.”

alessia went quiet.

because that one landed differently.

and for the first time, she didn’t immediately have a response.

which was unusual.

because alessia always had something to say.

but maybe that was the problem.

maybe she had spent so long explaining everything away that she hadn’t stopped to consider the obvious.

maybe the reason everyone was teasing her wasn’t because they were misunderstanding.

maybe it was because they were seeing something she wasn’t ready to see.

and that thought followed her home.

because for the first time, alessia wondered if there was a reason your smile felt like an achievement.

if there was a reason she remembered every little thing you did.

if there was a reason she wanted to be the person who made london easier for you.

she just wasn’t ready to name it yet.

⸻

alessia had convinced herself she was fine.

that was the thing about her.

she could be completely falling apart internally and still walk into training with a smile on her face, still ask everyone how their day was, still make jokes, still be the person everyone expected her to be.

she was good at being okay.

maybe too good.

because even after the conversation with taylor, kyra, and lotte, she still hadn’t admitted anything.

not properly.

she had thought about it.

that was unavoidable.

because once someone put an idea in your head, it was impossible to completely ignore it.

but every time she got close to actually considering it, she found a reason not to.

she was just excited about having a new teammate.

she was just naturally friendly.

she was just helping someone settle in.

that was all.

it had to be.

because the alternative felt too big.

⸻

“you’re thinking too loudly.”

alessia looked up.

beth was standing in front of her, holding a drink and looking far too amused.

“what?”

beth smiled.

“you have a very obvious thinking face.”

alessia frowned.

“i do not.”

“you do.”

“everyone keeps saying that.”

“because everyone is right.”

alessia rolled her eyes.

but before she could respond, steph walked over with katie behind her.

and immediately alessia knew something was happening.

because they all had that look.

the look people got when they had decided they were going to have a conversation with you whether you wanted one or not.

“why is everyone looking at me like that?”

katie dropped into the seat beside them.

“because, less, you’re clueless.”

alessia stared. “what?”

“nothing.”

alessia groaned. “stop saying that.”

lotte, who was nearby, laughed quietly.

because apparently everyone had decided that was the funniest possible response.

“okay,” beth said gently.

and immediately, the tone changed.

that was something alessia appreciated about beth.

she could joke around, but she also knew when something mattered.

“we’re not trying to pressure you.”

alessia looked between them. “pressure me about what?”

steph gave beth a look.

beth looked back.

then she turned to alessia.

“have you ever felt like this before?”

alessia frowned. “like what?”

beth paused. “like someone is constantly on your mind.”

alessia went quiet.

because yes.

obviously.

“like you want to make someone happy for no reason.”

yes.

“like their opinion matters more than it probably should.”

also yes.

“like you’re noticing every little thing they do.”

alessia looked away.

because yes.

all of those things.

but she still didn’t understand why they were asking.

“is this about y/n?”

nobody answered immediately.

which was an answer by itself.

alessia sighed. “oh my god.”

katie smiled. “there she is.”

“what does that mean?”

“means you’ve finally noticed.”

alessia looked at her. “noticed what?”

steph leaned forward slightly.

her voice was softer.

“lessi.”

alessia looked at her.

“have you ever thought that maybe you might be…”

steph paused.

not because she was unsure.

because she wanted to give alessia the space to process.

“into women?”

and suddenly, everything stopped.

it wasn’t dramatic.

there wasn’t some huge moment where the world changed.

it was quieter than that.

which somehow made it more intense.

because the second steph said it, something inside alessia shifted.

not because she had never heard the words before.

not because the idea was impossible.

but because she had never allowed herself to ask the question.

she sat there silently.

thinking.

and suddenly, every little thing she had been trying to explain away felt different.

the coffee.

the jacket.

the mornings.

the way she looked for you when she walked into a room.

the way she wanted to learn everything about you.

the way your smile felt like something she had earned.

the way you made her nervous.

you.

it was always you.

“i…”

alessia stopped.

because she didn’t know what to say.

and that was rare.

she always knew what to say.

“i don’t know.”

beth smiled softly. “that’s okay.”

alessia looked down at her hands. “i’ve never…” she swallowed. “i’ve never felt like this before.”

and that was the part that scared her.

because she had liked people before.

she knew what a crush felt like.

she knew what attraction felt like.

but this was different.

it wasn’t just wanting someone.

it was wanting to know someone.

wanting to be known by someone.

wanting to be the person they chose.

and suddenly that felt terrifying.

“don’t stress about it,” beth responded. “seriously.”

alessia looked at her.

“you don’t have to have everything figured out immediately.”

steph nodded. “there’s no rush.”

and that helped.

because they weren’t making it into something huge.

they weren’t telling her who she was.

they weren’t giving her some answer she had to accept.

they were just letting her understand herself.

which was exactly what alessia needed.

then, naturally, katie ruined the emotional moment.

“also, to be fair, women are fit as anyway.”

there was a silence.

alessia blinked.

steph looked exhausted.

beth tried not to laugh.

and before katie could continue, lotte reached over and slapped the back of her head.

“katie.”

“what?”

“read the room.”

katie rubbed the back of her head. “i’m just saying.”

alessia laughed.

a real laugh.

because somehow, of course katie would be the person to make that comment.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“thank you.”

“that wasn’t a compliment.”

“still taking it.”

and for a second, everything felt normal again.

⸻

but when the laughter faded, alessia stayed quiet.

because now she knew.

or at least, she knew enough.

she wasn’t just impressed by you.

she wasn’t just fascinated by you.

she wasn’t just being kind because you were new.

there was something there.

something she had never felt before.

and the scariest part?

it wasn’t the fact that it was a girl.

not really.

the scariest part was that it was you.

because she had known you for barely three weeks.

three weeks.

and somehow you had become the person she thought about when she woke up.

the person she wanted to see after training.

the person whose smallest smile could completely change her mood.

alessia had spent weeks trying to convince herself she was just being a good teammate.

but now she had to face the truth.

she wasn’t just helping you settle into london.

she was falling for you. hard.

and she had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

⸻

but the worst part?

nothing actually changed.

that was what confused alessia the most.

because after that conversation, after beth and steph had gently asked the question she had never even thought to ask herself, she expected something to feel different.

she expected the world to shift.

she expected some kind of obvious sign.

but the next morning, london was still grey.

training was still training.

katie was still impossible to understand before coffee.

kyra was still annoying everyone for entertainment.

and you were still you.

walking into the building with your headphones in, your expression unreadable, your hair slightly messy from the cold, looking like you had already decided you were not interested in whatever chaos the day had planned.

except now alessia looked at you differently.

and that was the problem.

because before, she had thought you were interesting.

now she knew why.

before, she thought she liked making you smile.

now she knew she was desperate for it.

before, she thought she wanted to know you better because you were new.

now she knew it was because something about you pulled her in.

and that was terrifying.

⸻

alessia russo had never been someone who was afraid of feelings.

that was probably what made this so confusing.

she was not someone who avoided love.

she was not someone who acted like she didn’t care.

if she liked someone, she usually knew.

if she wanted to spend time with someone, she did.

if she missed someone, she said it.

but this?

this felt like standing at the edge of something without knowing how deep it was.

because liking you felt different.

and she hated that she couldn’t explain why.

maybe it was because you were so opposite to her.

alessia was warmth.

she filled spaces.

she talked when things were quiet.

she laughed loudly.

she hugged people without thinking.

you were the opposite.

you were quiet.

careful.

reserved.

you didn’t reach for people.

you didn’t chase attention.

you didn’t need anyone to notice you.

and somehow that made alessia want to notice you even more.

⸻

“you’re staring.”

alessia immediately looked away.

kyra was standing beside her, looking far too pleased with herself.

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

“i’m literally not.”

“lessi.”

“what?”

“you were watching her drink water.”

alessia frowned.

“that’s not true.”

kyra looked at her.

alessia sighed. “okay, maybe.”

kyra laughed. “you’re unbelievable.”

“i don’t know what you want me to say.”

“nothing.”

alessia gave her a look. “don’t.”

“i didn’t even say anything.”

“your face did.”

kyra grinned. “see? you’re learning.”

alessia rolled her eyes.

but she couldn’t even argue.

because that was the thing.

everyone else had noticed.

everyone else had seen how different she was around you.

except she had spent so long refusing to look at it.

⸻

the problem was that you were impossible to read.

that was what made everything harder.

if you had been openly affectionate, maybe alessia would have known.

if you had flirted, maybe she would have understood.

if you had given her some obvious sign, maybe she could have done something.

but you didn’t.

you were still you.

you still answered her questions with short replies.

you still looked at her like you were trying to understand why she talked so much.

you still had that permanently unimpressed expression that made everyone think you hated them.

and alessia loved it.

which was another problem.

because how was she supposed to know if you felt anything when you looked exactly the same whether you were annoyed or happy?

“she likes you.”

lotte said it one afternoon.

alessia looked at her. “you don’t know that.”

“i do.”

“how?”

lotte shrugged. “because she doesn’t do what she does for you with everyone else.”

alessia went quiet.

because she had thought about that.

she had noticed.

but she had convinced herself it meant nothing.

“she’s just nice.”

lotte smiled. “you always say that.”

“because it’s true.”

“is it?”

alessia didn’t answer.

because maybe that was the part she was scared of.

maybe you weren’t just being nice.

maybe you actually cared.

and if you did…

then what?

⸻

the more alessia thought about it, the more overwhelming it became.

because suddenly she was remembering everything.

every tiny thing.

the way you looked for her when you walked into the room.

the way you always said thank you, even for things nobody else would think to thank someone for.

the way you listened when she spoke.

not just heard.

listened.

alessia had talked to thousands of people in her life.

teammates.

friends.

coaches.

fans.

but nobody looked at her the way you did.

like every word mattered.

and maybe that was why she liked talking to you so much.

because with you, she never felt like she was too much.

which was ironic.

because you barely spoke.

and somehow you made her feel understood.

⸻

the hardest thing was that she had never imagined herself here.

not because there was anything wrong with it.

not because she had some idea that it couldn’t happen.

it just had never crossed her mind.

she had liked boys before.

she understood that.

she knew what it felt like to have a crush.

but this was different.

with guys, she had always felt like she was trying to figure out if she liked them.

with you, she felt like she was trying to figure out how to handle liking you so much.

and that scared her.

because three weeks.

she had known you for three weeks.

and yet she was learning spanish phrases before bed.

she was remembering your coffee order.

she was checking the weather because she knew you hated the cold.

she was bringing extra food because she knew you would forget to eat after training.

she was looking for your car in the car park.

she was planning her mornings around seeing you.

and somehow she had convinced herself that was normal.

⸻

“you’re gone.”

alessia looked up.

leah was standing there now.

alessia sighed. “apparently everyone thinks i’m weird.”

leah smiled. “not weird- i mean a little cause you’re always watching her and following her, but not really.”

“then what?”

leah thought about it. “scared.”

alessia looked away.

because that was exactly it.

she wasn’t scared of liking you.

not really.

she was scared because she liked you and had no idea if you liked her back.

because you were so guarded.

so independent.

so completely yourself.

and alessia?

alessia was used to people understanding her.

you didn’t.

not completely.

you were still learning her language.

and somehow that made everything feel even more impossible.

because what if she finally admitted all of this and you didn’t even understand what she was trying to say?

⸻

that evening, alessia sat on her bed staring at her phone.

your name was there.

a simple message.

did you get home okay?

that was it.

nothing dramatic.

nothing romantic.

just a question.

but alessia stared at it for longer than she should have.

because you had asked.

you had thought about her.

you had taken the time to message her.

and maybe that was the thing about you.

you never did anything loudly.

you never announced that you cared.

you just quietly showed it.

and maybe that was why alessia had fallen so hard.

because she was used to big things.

big moments.

big emotions.

but you?

you were small things.

quiet things.

the kind of things that slipped into someone’s life without them noticing.

until suddenly they couldn’t imagine their day without them.

and alessia hated how much she wanted that.

she wanted you.

not just your attention.

not just your friendship.

you.

and the worst part?

she didn’t know if she was allowed to.

so she did the only thing she knew how to do.

she kept caring.

kept showing up.

kept pretending she wasn’t completely losing her mind over a girl who barely spoke english and somehow had become the person she wanted most.

⸻

alessia did not stop thinking about it.

which was ridiculous.

because realistically, nothing had happened.

she had said hello.

that was it.

she had walked over, introduced herself, accidentally talked far too much, discovered you understood almost none of it, and then kyra had rescued both of you from the awkwardness.

a normal interaction.

a completely normal first meeting.

except alessia kept replaying it in her head.

mostly the way you had looked at her.

because you hadn’t looked annoyed.

that was what surprised her.

you had every reason to be.

if someone walked up to you and started talking that quickly in a language you were still learning, you probably would have been irritated. you weren’t known for having endless patience, and you definitely weren’t known for pretending to be interested in things you weren’t.

but you hadn’t been annoyed.

you had listened.

really listened.

and then when you didn’t know what to say, you had just given her that small nod and quiet “okay” like that was enough.

for some reason, alessia found that funny.

not in a way where she was laughing at you.

more because it was so obviously you.

she didn’t know you yet.

not really.

but she already had the feeling that you were someone who didn’t waste words.

⸻

“you know she probably thought you were insane, right?”

alessia looked over at caitlin.

they were walking towards the next part of training, and alessia had been unusually quiet.

which caitlin noticed.

everyone noticed when alessia was quiet. “i was being welcoming.”

caitlin smiled. “you were interviewing her.”

“i was not.”

“less.”

“okay, maybe a little.”

caitlin laughed. “she’s still learning english. you can’t just talk at her like you’re giving a presentation.”

alessia sighed. “i didn’t know.”

“i know.” caitlin’s expression softened.

“but now you do.”

alessia nodded.

because she genuinely hadn’t realised.

you weren’t someone she had seen struggling. you carried yourself with so much confidence that it was easy to forget that everything around you was new.

new club.

new country.

new language.

and despite all of that, you had walked into arsenal like you belonged there.

alessia respected that.

maybe more than she expected.

“she’s intimidating,” caitlin added.

alessia looked surprised. “really?”

“yes.”

“why?”

caitlin gave her a look. “because she looks like she wants to fight everyone.”

alessia laughed. “she does not.”

“lessi.”

“okay, maybe a little.”

and that made alessia laugh harder because it was true.

you did have that look.

the one where people probably assumed you were annoyed before you had even spoken.

but alessia had seen enough to know there was more to it.

because someone who didn’t care wouldn’t have listened.

someone who didn’t care wouldn’t have nodded.

someone who didn’t care wouldn’t have thanked her.

⸻

you, meanwhile, had already forgotten most of the interaction.

not because it didn’t matter.

but because you had a lot of things happening at once.

new club.

new training environment.

new teammates.

you were trying to remember names, routines, and where everything was.

your brain was already full.

but you did remember alessia.

you remembered her because she had been different.

most people, when they met you, were careful.

they knew who you were.

and thanks to your sister, they knew your last name.

and sometimes that made people treat you differently.

too carefully.

like they weren’t sure how to approach you.

alessia hadn’t done that.

she had walked straight up to you and started talking.

too much.

far too much.

but it was genuine.

and that was something you noticed.

you noticed everything.

you just didn’t always say it.

⸻

later, when you were sitting with laia, she looked at you with a small smile.

you immediately knew. “what?”

“nothing.”

you narrowed your eyes.

you hated that word.

everyone used it when they knew something.

“laia.”

she laughed softly.

“you liked her.”

you looked genuinely confused. “who?”

“alessia.”

your face immediately changed.

not dramatically.

but enough.

laia noticed.

of course she noticed.

“see?”

you looked away. “she talks a lot.”

laia smiled. “that’s not an answer.”

“it is to me.”

“no.”

you stayed quiet.

because what were you supposed to say?

yes, you thought she seemed nice?

yes, you noticed she had a kind smile?

yes, you appreciated that she had approached you without making you feel like some strange foreign player who needed special treatment?

you weren’t used to admitting things like that.

especially not after knowing someone for five minutes.

so instead, you did what you always did.

you avoided the conversation. “training.”

laia laughed. “you’re impossible.”

you didn’t disagree.

⸻

alessia didn’t know it yet, but that was the beginning of something.

not something obvious.

not something either of you would look back on and say, that was the moment.

there was no instant connection.

no dramatic realisation.

no sudden change.

just a girl who talked too much and a girl who barely talked at all.

a girl who wanted to make someone feel welcome.

and a girl who wasn’t used to someone trying.

the funny thing was, neither of you knew that the smallest moments would end up meaning the most.

alessia didn’t know that her rambling introduction would be something laia remembered.

you didn’t know that the blonde girl who talked too quickly would soon become the person who made london feel less unfamiliar.

for now, she was just alessia.

and you were just you.

but somehow, without either of you realising it yet, you had already started paying attention to each other.

⸻

alessia waited a day before approaching you again.

which, for alessia, was actually impressive.

normally, if she decided she wanted to get to know someone, she would just do it. she was naturally open like that. she didn’t overthink introductions or worry about whether someone would find her annoying because most of the time, people knew her well enough to understand that was just who she was.

but with you, she was suddenly aware of everything.

how quickly she spoke.

how much she spoke.

whether you understood her.

whether she was making things harder for you.

it was strange because she had never really thought about communication before. she had always been surrounded by people who spoke the same language, people who understood her jokes immediately, people who could interrupt her when she started going on a tangent.

you couldn’t.

not yet.

and for some reason, that made her want to try harder.

she found you after training, sitting slightly away from everyone else.

not completely alone.

you weren’t hiding.

that was something alessia had already noticed about you.

you weren’t someone who avoided people because you disliked them.

you just didn’t chase being around them.

there was a difference.

you were sitting with your phone in your hand, scrolling through something, your training bag beside you. your expression was the same one you seemed to have most of the time- calm, serious, almost intimidating.

but alessia was starting to realise that was just your face.

she approached slower this time.

you looked up when you noticed her.

and alessia immediately smiled. “hi.”

you looked at her. “hello.”

it was a small thing.

but alessia noticed.

yesterday, you hadn’t started the greeting.

today, you had.

and she had no idea why that made her feel weirdly proud. “how are you?”

you paused.

not because you didn’t understand.

you did.

because you were thinking about your answer. “good.”

alessia nodded. “good.”

there was a silence.

a normal one.

not awkward.

alessia realised she needed to stop filling every quiet moment.

that was probably something she needed to learn.

so instead of immediately starting another five-minute explanation about something random, she just stood there.

and waited.

you looked at her.

maybe because you expected her to say something else.

maybe because you weren’t used to people being comfortable with silence around you. 

“first day went okay?”

your eyebrows lifted slightly.

alessia smiled. 

you nodded. “si, it was good.” 

“different?”

“no, just normal.”

then there was another pause.

and this time, alessia didn’t rush to fix it.

she let you exist in it.

and that was when she realised something.

you weren’t difficult.

you weren’t cold.

you just needed time.

everyone else seemed to want the quickest version of you.

the smile.

the conversation.

the easy friendship.

but you didn’t work like that.

you needed to know someone was staying before you gave them anything back.

and for some reason, alessia found that fascinating.

“you know, your english is good. better than you think it is.”

you looked at her.

you weren’t sure if that was a question or a statement. “not really.”

alessia smiled. “yes, really.”

you shook your head slightly. “i understand.” you pointed between the two of you. “speaking…”

you searched for the word.

alessia waited.

she didn’t interrupt.

that surprised you.

“hard.”

she nodded immediately. “yeah.”

she understood.

not completely.

but enough.

“well,” she said slowly, “i’m not exactly helping because i talk too much. but if i had to learn spanish, my spanish would be a million times worse than your english.”

you looked at her.

and then, unexpectedly, the corner of your mouth moved.

barely.

but it did.

alessia noticed.

she tried not to.

she failed.

because it was the first time she had seen it.

a real reaction.

not a polite smile.

not the tiny nods you gave everyone.

a genuine little smile.

“there it is.”

you frowned. “what?”

“nothing.”

you narrowed your eyes.

you hated that word.

alessia laughed. “sorry.”

you looked away, but she could tell you weren’t actually annoyed.

not anymore.

⸻

over the next few days, this became normal.

not friendship.

not yet.

just something small.

alessia would find you before training and say hello.

you would respond.

sometimes with one word.

sometimes with two.

but you responded.

and everyone noticed.

especially because you were not usually like that.

you weren’t rude.

that was important.

people often misunderstood you because of how quiet you were.

you would answer questions.

you would help if someone needed something.

you would do your job.

but you didn’t usually seek people out.

you didn’t usually let new people in.

mariona had joked once that getting you to like someone was harder than winning a champions league final.

she wasn’t completely wrong.

alessia didn’t know that.

she just thought you were interesting.

⸻

the first time you actually had a proper conversation was almost accidental.

you were both leaving training at the same time.

alessia was walking beside you, not because she planned to, but because she happened to be going the same way.

“how are you finding london?”

you looked ahead. “cold.”

alessia laughed.

a proper laugh. “okay, that’s fair.”

you looked at her.

“very cold.”

“you’re really not enjoying the weather, are you?”

you shook your head. “no.”

“barcelona is warmer.”

“yes.”

“you miss it?”

that question made you pause.

because that one was different.

most people asked because they were curious.

alessia asked because she wanted to understand.

“yes.”

your answer was immediate.

alessia nodded.

“yeah.”

a pause.

“but you wanted this.”

you looked at her.

she hadn’t said it like a question.

she had said it like she knew.

and that caught you off guard.

because she did know.

not everything, but enough.

“yes.”

alessia smiled. “then that’s good.”

you didn’t know why that sentence stayed with you.

it was simple.

obvious.

but something about the way she said it made you feel like she understood.

⸻

later that day, laia found you and immediately noticed something.

you were quieter than usual.

which was impressive.

because you were already quiet.

“what?” 

you looked at her.

“i didn’t say anything.”

“your face did.”

you frowned. “my face does nothing.”

laia laughed. “your face says everything.”

you ignored her.

but she smiled.

because she knew.

you weren’t someone who talked about feelings easily.

you weren’t someone who admitted when you liked someone.

you barely admitted when you liked a food.

but she had known you long enough to recognise small changes.

and alessia was becoming one of them.

⸻

alessia didn’t think anything was happening.

not really.

she just thought she was doing what she always did.

being kind.

helping someone new.

making a teammate feel comfortable.

that was all.

except she was starting to notice things.

like how she looked for you when she walked into a room.

like how she listened harder when you spoke because every word felt important.

like how a small smile from you felt like an achievement.

but she didn’t question it.

not yet.

because right now, you were just the new girl, and she was just the girl who talked too much.

neither of you knew that somewhere between awkward introductions and quiet conversations, something had started.

something neither of you had a name for yet.

⸻

by the second week, you had started learning the rhythm of arsenal.

not completely.

not enough that it felt like home.

barcelona was still home.

you knew that.

you knew it in the way you missed the familiar noise of the training ground, the way you missed hearing voices you had grown up around, the way you missed walking into a room and not having to explain yourself.

but london was becoming less unfamiliar.

and that was mostly because of small things.

knowing where the coffee machine was.

knowing which door led to the gym.

knowing which parts of training were going to be chaotic.

knowing that katie and kim were almost impossible to understand when they spoke too quickly.

knowing that kyra would somehow appear out of nowhere just to annoy someone.

knowing that mariona would always save you a seat without making a big deal out of it.

and, unfortunately, knowing that alessia russo was always somewhere nearby.

you weren’t sure when that happened.

you didn’t remember deciding to notice her.

you just did.

you noticed when she arrived.

you noticed when she laughed.

you noticed when she was talking to someone across the room.

you noticed when she wasn’t there.

that last one annoyed you slightly.

because you were not someone who paid attention to people without a reason.

you had never been.

your family always joked that you were impossible to impress because you were too focused on everything else.

alexia used to say you had one of the biggest hearts she knew and one of the worst ways of showing it.

you never understood why everyone thought that was funny.

you cared.

you just didn’t announce it.

⸻

the next morning, you were reminded that you still didn’t know arsenal as well as you thought.

you had spent ten minutes walking around the training ground trying to find the physio room.

you knew where it was… sort of.

you had been there before.

but everything looked different when you were tired and slightly frustrated.

which, unfortunately, was most mornings.

you stood in the hallway, looking between two directions, trying to decide which one made sense.

“lost?”

you turned.

and immediately recognised the voice.

alessia.

she was standing there with her training bag over her shoulder, a small smile on her face.

you looked back at the hallway.

then back at her.

“no.”

she raised an eyebrow.

you stared at her.

she stared back.

and after a few seconds, you sighed.

“un poco.”

alessia laughed softly.

not in a way that embarrassed you.

just because she found your honesty funny.

“where are you trying to go?”

“physio.”

“oh.” she nodded. “i’ll show you.”

you looked at her. “you go other way.”

because you had already learned enough about the training ground to know.

alessia looked slightly surprised. “you know?”

you nodded. “yes.”

“then why are you still standing here?”

you paused.

because that was a good question.

you didn’t have an answer.

alessia smiled. “come on.”

and then she turned around, walking in the opposite direction from where she needed to be.

you followed.

because you weren’t going to argue with someone helping you.

even if you didn’t understand why she was doing it.

“so,” alessia said after a moment, “what do you need the physio for anyway?”

you looked at her.

she noticed.

“sorry. if you don’t want to say, that’s okay.”

you shook your head.

no.

it wasn’t that.

you just weren’t used to people asking without already knowing.

“my leg.”

alessia’s expression changed slightly.

not dramatically.

just enough.

“your leg?”

you nodded. “not very good.”

the way you said it was so casual that it almost made alessia more concerned.

because you weren’t someone who complained.

she had noticed that already.

you could get tackled, get up, and continue like nothing happened.

“i saw your match against france.”

you looked at her.

alessia continued. “is that where you hurt it?”

you gave a small nod.

she remembered.

of course she did.

you shouldn’t have been surprised.

alessia was a footballer.

she watched football.

but there was something about the fact that she remembered that made you look at her slightly differently.

most people remembered the goals.

the assists.

the moments everyone talked about.

alessia remembered the injury.

“yeah.”

“that looked painful.”

you shrugged. “it was okay.”

alessia looked at you. “okay?”

“yes.” you nodded.

she laughed.

“you and i have very different definitions of okay.”

you didn’t respond.

but you almost smiled.

almost.

alessia noticed.

she was becoming very good at noticing.

⸻

the rest of the walk should have been quiet.

but this was alessia.

so naturally, it wasn’t.

“i actually hate physio rooms.”

you looked at her. “why?”

she smiled.

because it was the first question you had asked her.

not an answer.

not a polite response.

a question. 

“because they always tell you things you don’t want to hear.”

you listened.

really listened.

and alessia continued.

“like, you’ll go in thinking everything is fine and then suddenly they’re like, ‘maybe don’t do that movement for two weeks.’ and you’re like, well, that’s inconvenient because i’m a footballer and moving is kind of my entire job.”

you stared at her.

not because you were confused.

because you were listening.

alessia had started talking with the expectation that you probably wouldn’t understand all of it.

but then she looked at you.

and realised you were following.

you didn’t interrupt.

you didn’t look away.

you just watched her.

with those intense eyes of yours.

and suddenly alessia forgot what she was saying.

because you looked at people like they were the only thing in the room.

she wasn’t used to that. “sorry.”

you blinked. “what?”

she shook her head, “nothing.”

you frowned slightly.

there was that word again.

you hated that word.

alessia laughed, “i’m sorry.”

⸻

when you reached the physio room, alessia stopped.

“there you go.”

you looked at the door.

then back at her.

“gracias.”

simple.

quiet.

but alessia knew by now that simple things from you meant more.“anytime.”

you nodded.

and for a second, neither of you moved.

then you walked inside.

alessia watched you disappear through the door.

and she had absolutely no idea why she was smiling.

⸻

later, when she told kyra she had walked you to physio, kyra immediately looked suspicious.

“you walked her?”

alessia shrugged. “she was lost.”

“and?”

“and i helped her.”

kyra stared. “we had training.”

“i was still on time.”

“barely.”

alessia ignored that.

because it wasn’t a big deal.

it was just helping a teammate.

that was all.

but kyra knew alessia.

and she knew when something was different. “you like her.”

alessia immediately looked offended. “what?”

“nothing.”

“don’t start.”

kyra laughed. “i’m not saying anything.”

but she was smiling.

and that was annoying.

because alessia couldn’t figure out why everyone seemed to think they knew something she didn’t.

there was nothing happening.

you were just new.

she was just being kind.

that was all.

except…

she had walked the wrong direction across the training ground just to spend five extra minutes with you.

and maybe that was something.

but alessia didn’t think about that.

not yet.

because she wasn’t ready to admit that the quiet girl from barcelona was becoming someone she looked for without even realising.

⸻

the thing about getting used to someone was that it never happened all at once.

there was no exact moment where you could point and say that was when we became friends.

it was smaller than that.

quieter.

it happened in the spaces between everything else.

and for you, that was probably why it worked.

you had never been someone who connected with people quickly.

people always assumed the opposite because of football.

because on the pitch, you were confident.

you spoke.

you demanded.

you controlled games like you had been born knowing exactly what to do.

but off the pitch, you were different.

you didn’t like forcing things.

you didn’t like pretending to be closer to someone than you were.

you needed time.

you needed consistency.

you needed to know that someone wasn’t just being nice because they felt sorry for you.

and alessia was consistent.

that was the first thing you noticed.

she didn’t suddenly disappear after helping you find physio.

she didn’t decide she had done enough because you were no longer the new girl.

she just kept showing up.

small things.

always small things.

⸻

the first time she tried speaking spanish to you, it was terrible.

you knew that immediately.

you were walking into training when she appeared beside you, looking far too pleased with herself.

“hola.”

you stopped.

looked at her.

then looked away.

because you were trying very hard not to smile.

alessia noticed. “what?”

“nothing.” you shook your head.

her eyes narrowed. “you’re doing that thing.”

you looked at her. “que?”

“the thing where you pretend you’re not amused.”

you stared at her.

then finally said:

“your accent.”

alessia looked horrified. “is it that bad?”

you hesitated.

which was enough of an answer.

“oh my god.”

you laughed.

quietly.

barely.

but you did.

and alessia froze for a second because she had still only seen small pieces of that side of you.

the serious y/n.

the quiet y/n.

the focused y/n.

but not the girl who laughed.

“okay,” she said, pretending to be offended. “i’ll practise.”

you nodded. “yes.”

“yes?”

“yes.”

“that’s encouraging.”

you looked at her, “i am encouraging.”

alessia smiled, “you really are, you know.”

you didn’t understand exactly what she meant.

but you understood enough.

and somehow that was becoming normal.

⸻

alessia started learning little things.

she told herself it was practical.

that was the easiest explanation.

you were new.

you needed help.

that was it.

learning a few spanish phrases was normal.

knowing how to pronounce your nickname was normal.

figuring out what coffee you liked was normal.

none of it meant anything.

except she kept doing it.

and everyone noticed.

especially because alessia wasn’t usually this invested in making someone comfortable.

not because she wasn’t kind.

she was.

but she had never been this determined.

“how do you i good morning again?”

she asked laia one day.

laia looked at her. “you’ve asked me that three times.”

“because i want to get it right.”

“alessia.”

“what?”

“you know she understands english, right? like not amazingly, but she’s not an idiot.”

alessia frowned. “i know.”

“then why are you stressing?”

because she wanted to.

but she didn’t say that.

instead she shrugged.

“i just want her to know i’m trying.”

and laia didn’t tease her.

because that answer was actually very alessia.

⸻

the coffee thing happened accidentally.

you had gone into the little cafe near training with mariona before, and alessia happened to see you ordering.

she didn’t mean to listen.

she really didn’t.

but she noticed things.

you always seemed to have a specific way of doing things.

and when the barista handed you your drink, you looked genuinely happier than she had ever seen you.

not smiling.

not dramatically.

just softer.

alessia remembered.

she didn’t even realise she had memorised it until a few days later.

you were running late after training, and she walked over with two coffees.

you looked at one.

then the other.

then her.

“for you.”

you frowned slightly. “why?”

“because you like it.”

you stared at her. “how you know?”

alessia shrugged.

“i had a hunch.”

that was all.

you looked down at the coffee.

then back at her.

“thank you.”

and something about the way you said it made her feel like she had done something much bigger than buy a drink.

⸻

the protein bar was worse.

because that was when alessia started realising you had your own ways of showing things.

she had offered you one after training because you had mentioned being hungry.

you had looked suspiciously at it.

alessia laughed. “it’s not poisoned.”

you looked at her. “i didn’t think that.”

“your face said otherwise.”

you took it anyway.

you tried it.

and then you looked at her.

“very good.”

two words.

that was it.

but the tiny smile that came with it stayed in alessia’s mind for the rest of the day.

because you liked it.

and you had told her.

which, for anyone else, would have been nothing.

but with you?

it felt like a lot.

⸻

but what alessia didn’t realise was that she wasn’t the only one paying attention.

you noticed things too.

you noticed that she always carried extra things because someone always forgot something.

you noticed she tapped her fingers when she was thinking.

you noticed she got quieter when she was tired, even though she tried to pretend she wasn’t.

you noticed she always looked around the room to make sure everyone was included.

and you noticed she like you, was always cold.

that one was obvious.

because one morning, you saw her rubbing her hands together outside.

without thinking, you handed her the gloves alexia had bought for you, knowing you'd insist you didn't need them now, only to be grateful for them later.

and now was later.

she looked at them.

then at you.

“what?”

you frowned. “you are cold.”

alessia blinked. “you’re giving me your gloves?”

“yes.” you shrugged.

“but then you’ll be cold.”

you looked at her. “i’m fine.”

and she laughed because, apparently, that was your answer to everything.

you were fine.

even when you weren’t.

but she took the gloves.

and she kept smiling.

⸻

the jacket thing happened after training.

it was colder than usual.

you had underestimated england again.

alessia noticed.

of course she did.

“you’re freezing.”

you shook your head. “no.”

“you are.”

“no.”

she stared.

you stared back.

and eventually she sighed.

“you’re impossible.”

you didn’t disagree.

then she took off her training jacket and held it out.

you immediately shook your head.

“no.”

“yes.”

“alessia.”

she paused.

because hearing her name from you was still something she wasn’t used to.

quiet.

with your accent.

for some reason, it made her forget her argument for half a second.“take it.”

you hesitated.

because accepting things from people was harder for you than giving.

but eventually, you did.

“thank you.”

and alessia smiled, “you’re welcome.”

⸻

the funny thing was, you thought you were being obvious.

you thought the small things you did meant something.

the way you saved her a seat.

the way you remembered she hated a certain recovery drink.

the way you passed her the ball exactly where she liked it during training.

the way you always checked if she had everything before leaving.

because that was how you cared.

you didn’t say it.

you showed it.

but alessia didn’t know that.

she just assumed you were like that with everyone.

because how could someone as quiet and guarded as you possibly be choosing her?

so she kept telling herself the same thing.

you were teammates.

you were friends.

she was helping you settle in.

that was all.

except everyone else was starting to notice.

especially because alessia russo, who had only known you for two weeks, had somehow learned your habits better than people who had known you for years.

and the strangest part?

you were letting her.

⸻

paige always wakes up before her alarm on this day.

she doesn’t know if it’s her body remembering or if grief has its own clock.

either way, it happens every year.

4:17 a.m.

the exact same time.

she opens her eyes slowly, staring at the ceiling above her, and for a few 

seconds she doesn’t remember.

that’s the cruelest part.

for those first few seconds, there is no anniversary.

there is no empty space beside her.

there is no ache sitting heavily in her chest.

there is only the familiar darkness of the bedroom and the quiet sound of 

someone breathing next to her.

except she knows that sound isn’t real.

because you aren’t there.

you haven’t been there for a year.

and still, somehow, paige reaches across the bed every single morning 

expecting to find you.

her hand meets cold sheets.

it always does.

she closes her eyes.

and she lets herself pretend for a moment longer.

because remembering you alive is easier than remembering you gone.

⸻

everyone thinks the hardest part about losing someone is forgetting them.

paige knows better.

the hardest part is remembering them perfectly.

she remembers the way you laughed when you were trying not to laugh.

the way you always scrunched your nose when something annoyed you.

the way you stole her hoodies and acted surprised every single time she 

noticed.

“you have literally fifty of your own,” paige would tell you.

and you would shrug. “yours are better.”

they weren’t.

they were exactly the same.

but you liked hers because they smelled like her.

and paige loved that.

she loved every tiny, ordinary thing about you.

things nobody else would ever think to remember.

things that should have stayed meaningless.

but now they’re the things she would give anything to experience one 

more time.

⸻

paige thinks about how strange it is that the world knew so much about 

her.

people knew her stats.

her records.

her injuries.

her achievements.

they knew how many points she scored.

how many games she won.

how many awards she collected.

but they never knew the things that mattered.

they never knew that you were the first person she called after every 

game.

that you could tell how she played just by the way she walked through the 

door.

that you knew when she needed a hug before she ever asked.

they never knew that paige bueckers, the girl everyone thought had everything figured out, still needed you to remind her to eat dinner.

to sleep.

to breathe.

they never knew that before she was anything else... she was yours.

⸻

you were there before everything.

before the attention.

before the pressure.

before paige learned how exhausting it was to constantly be someone 

everyone expected her to be.

you knew the version of her that existed when nobody was watching.

the girl who hated losing board games because she took everything too competitively.

the girl who would claim she wasn’t tired and then fall asleep five minutes 

later.

the girl who pretended she didn’t like affection but always reached for your hand first.

you knew paige.

not the name.

not the reputation.

her.

and she thinks maybe that’s why losing you felt impossible.

because when everyone else loved what she could do... you loved who she was.

⸻

paige still remembers the first time she pictured forever with you.

not because of some huge romantic moment.

not because of some perfect confession.

it was a random tuesday.

that’s what she hates.

it was just a random tuesday.

you were standing in the kitchen wearing one of her old shirts, hair messy, 

trying to convince her that dinner didn’t need a recipe.

“you’re making this way harder than it needs to be,” you told her.

paige looked at the instructions. “it literally says three tablespoons.”

“okay?”

“you put in four.”

you shrugged. “i like flavour.”

she laughed.

a real laugh.

the kind that made you smile because you loved making her forget about 

everything else.

and she remembers looking at you and thinking:

oh.

it’s you.

not because everything was perfect.

because it wasn’t.

you argued.

you annoyed each other.

you stole each other’s food and blankets.

you both had habits that drove the other insane.

but somehow, through all of it, paige always came back to the same 

thought.

if this is what my life looks like forever, i’m okay with that.

⸻

marriage was never a serious conversation at first.

it started as a joke.

a passing comment.

a future that felt so far away you didn’t have to be scared of it.

you were lying on the couch one night scrolling through houses online.

houses neither of you could afford.

houses you had no reason to be looking at.

“i want one with a big kitchen,” you said.

paige looked over. “you hate cooking.”

“i hate your cooking.”

she gasped. “wow.”

“it’s true.”

“you’re lucky i love you.”

you smiled “i know.”

and maybe that was the dangerous part.

you both knew.

you both knew you loved each other.

you both knew there would be more time.

more birthdays.

more christmas mornings.

more random nights on the couch.

more conversations about the future.

you never considered that the future could exist without one of you.

⸻

paige still remembers the night you asked her what kind of wedding she wanted.

you were half asleep.

your head was resting against her shoulder.

the room was dark except for the light from the television.

“paige?”

“hm?”

“do you ever think about getting married?”

she smiled. “sometimes.”

“sometimes?”

“okay. a lot.”

you laughed quietly. “do you have a secret wedding board or something?”

she was silent.

too silent.

you lifted your head. “paige.”

“what?” she tried to defend herself. “planning ahead isn’t a bad thing.”

“you are unbelievable.”

but you were smiling.

and she was smiling.

because it wasn’t really about the wedding.

not yet.

it was about the fact that both of you could imagine it.

a future.

a home.

a lifetime.

you.

⸻

paige thinks about that now.

about how easily she pictured forever.

how naturally you fit into every version of her future.

and she wonders if that’s what hurts the most.

not losing the life you had.

but losing the life you were supposed to have.

the one she never got to see.

the one she was so sure was waiting for both of you.

because paige had never been afraid of anything.

not the pressure.

not the expectations.

not the possibility of failing.

the only thing that ever truly scared her was a world without you.

she just never believed she would have to live in one.

⸻

paige always thought the last time would feel different.

she thought there would be some kind of warning.

some instinct.

some impossible feeling in her chest telling her:

remember this.

hold onto this.

you won’t get another one.

but there wasn’t.

there was just a normal night.

and that is the part she can never forgive.

because the last time she saw you alive, nothing about it felt like the last time.

⸻

you had spent the entire day together.

that’s what makes it worse.

there was nothing wrong.

nothing that should have made paige think she was about to lose 

everything.

you woke up beside her.

you stole half of her coffee.

you complained that she was impossible to sleep next to because she 

took up too much space.

she told you that was impossible because you were the one who 

somehow managed to steal all the blankets every night.

you laughed.

she kissed your forehead.

normal.

ordinary.

perfect.

paige would spend the rest of her life trying to explain that those were the 

moments that mattered.

not the awards.

not the crowds.

not the nights where everyone screamed her name.

it was you standing in her kitchen wearing mismatched socks.

it was you asking what she wanted for dinner and ignoring every answer 

she gave.

it was you existing.

⸻

the argument started because paige was tired.

that’s all.

tired.

not angry.

not unhappy.

just tired.

and she hates that something so small could become the last thing 

standing between you.

basketball had been taking everything from her lately.

her time.

her energy.

her patience.

and you never blamed her for it.

that was the thing.

you never asked her to choose.

you just wanted her to remember that there was a life outside of 

basketball.

a life with you.

“you promised.”

paige remembers those words.

she remembers looking up from her phone. “promised what?”

you looked away.

and immediately, she knew.

because she knew every version of you.

she knew when you were angry.

she knew when you were hurt.

and she knew when you were trying not to admit that you were hurt.

“dinner.”

paige frowned. “what?”

“you promised we’d have dinner together tonight.”

she looked at the time.

she had completely forgotten.

again.

“baby-”

“it’s okay.”

it wasn’t.

and paige knew it wasn’t.

because you only said it’s okay when it wasn’t.

⸻

“i just feel like i’m always waiting for you.”

that sentence stayed with her.

not because it was cruel.

because it wasn’t.

because it was true.

you weren’t saying she didn’t love you.

you weren’t saying she didn’t try.

you were saying you missed her.

you missed the version of paige who came home and was just yours.

and instead of hearing that, paige heard criticism.

she got defensive. “that’s not fair.”

you looked at her. “what?”

“you know how much this matters to me.”

“i know it matters to you, paige.”

your voice softened. “i just wish i felt like i mattered too.”

and she wishes she could go back.

she wishes she could hear those words again.

because now she knows exactly what you were asking for.

not less basketball.

not fewer dreams.

just a little more of her.

⸻

but grief is cruel because it makes paige remember the worst version of herself.

the tired version.

the frustrated version.

the version that said things because she was overwhelmed.

“maybe you’re expecting too much from me right now.”

silence.

that’s what she remembers.

the silence after.

not shouting.

not anger.

just silence.

because you looked at her like she had hurt you.

and she had.

not in the way she thought.

but enough.

“i don’t know why you make it sound like i’m against you.” you said it quietly.

and paige’s heart breaks every time she remembers.

because you never were.

you were always the person standing beside her.

⸻

the stupid thing is, she almost apologised.

she remembers that.

she remembers opening her mouth.

she remembers wanting to say your name.

wanting to tell you she was sorry.

wanting to tell you she loved you.

but pride is such a small thing.

and sometimes small things destroy everything.

“i need some air.”

your voice was quiet.

paige nodded.

still upset.

still convinced there would be time.

because there was always time.

until there wasn’t.

⸻

you grabbed your keys from the bowl by the door.

paige remembers that more than anything.

your keys.

the sound of them against the ceramic.

such a normal sound.

something she had heard a thousand times.

something that should never have become a memory.

“i’ll be back.”

you said it so casually.

like you were going to the shops.

like you were going for five minutes.

like paige wasn’t watching the last moment of her life where everything 

was still okay.

she wanted to say something.

she did.

she knows she did.

but it wasn’t the right thing.

“okay.”

that was all.

okay.

the last word she ever gave you.

and she hates it.

she hates how small it was.

how meaningless.

because if she had known...

if she had known...

she would have filled that moment with everything she had.

she would have held you.

she would have told you she was sorry.

she would have told you she loved you until you got sick of hearing it.

⸻

the door closed.

and paige stood there.

waiting.

because that’s what you do when someone you love walks away.

you wait for them to come back.

she cleaned the kitchen.

she watched television.

she checked her phone once.

then twice.

then she put it down.

because you always came back.

you always did.

and paige had no reason to believe this time would be different.

not yet.

not until the rain got heavier.

not until the minutes started feeling too long.

not until her phone rang fifty-five minutes later.

lucky number five.

⸻

misa had you spread out on the bed right from the start, her hand already wrapped around your neck as she settled between your thighs. her grip was firm and warm, thumb resting against your pulse while she leaned down to kiss you slow and deep. 

the pressure on your throat stayed constant, a steady reminder of her control even as her tongue moved against yours.

she lined up the thick strap and pushed inside you in one smooth motion, stretching you open while her fingers flexed lightly around your neck. you gasped into her mouth at the sudden fullness and misa hummed in satisfaction, hips pressing forward until she bottomed out. 

"breathe through it amor, you can do it,” she murmured against your lips, never once letting her hand leave your throat.

she started fucking you with long, deep strokes, pulling back almost all the way before sliding back in, the wet sound of the strap filling you echoing softly. her hand stayed locked around your neck the entire time, squeezing just enough to make your head feel light and hazy while she rolled her hips. every thrust dragged perfectly inside you, hitting that spot that made your toes curl.

misa watched your face closely, eyes dark with want as she kept the steady rhythm. her fingers would tighten when she drove in deep, then loosen just enough for you to suck in a shaky breath before squeezing again. the constant hold on your throat turned every sensation sharper, every thrust more intense. you could feel your pulse beating against her palm as she fucked you.

"you feel so fucking good," she whispered, voice low and rough. 

she shifted her angle slightly and started hitting that sweet spot with every roll of her hips. her free hand braced beside your head for leverage as she picked up the pace, thrusting harder while her grip on your neck stayed possessive and unrelenting. 

you moaned under the pressure, thighs trembling around her waist as pleasure built fast.

she leaned down closer, lips brushing your ear while she kept fucking you deep. 

"look at me, cari” she said softly. 

your eyes met hers and she rewarded you by tightening her hand around your throat, cutting off just enough air to make stars flicker at the edges of your vision. the strap drove into you harder, faster, the base grinding against your clit with every thrust.

your hands clutched at her back, nails digging in as the combination of her cock buried inside you and her hand choking you pushed you closer and closer. misa groaned at the way you clenched around the strap, her hips snapping forward with more force. she never let go of your neck, fingers flexing and tightening in rhythm with her thrusts, keeping you right on that perfect edge between pleasure and breathlessness.

"so pretty like this," she praised, voice husky. she rubbed her thumb along the side of your throat while she fucked you, the gentle caress contrasting with the firm pressure. 

your back arched hard off the bed as she drove the strap in deep again and again, the slick sounds growing louder. every breath you managed was small and desperate, filtered through the tight hold of her hand.

she could feel how close you were getting. misa doubled down, thrusting harder, grinding against your clit while her grip on your neck tightened even more. "come for me carino,” she urged, eyes locked on yours. the lack of air and the relentless pounding of the strap finally sent you over the edge. 

your orgasm crashed through you hard, pussy clenching tight around the thick silicone as your body shook underneath her.

misa worked you through it, hips still moving in deep strokes while her hand stayed wrapped around your throat. 

she only loosened her grip when your orgasm started to fade, letting you gasp in full breaths as she kissed you softly. but even then her fingers remained curled around your neck, possessive and warm, stroking your skin like she couldn't bear to let go.

you were still panting when she started moving again, slower this time but just as deep, building you right back up. her hand never left your throat. 

"we're not done, preciosa” she whispered, lips brushing yours. "i want to fuck that pretty mouth before i let you come again.” 

she kept fucking you like that, hand firm around your neck the entire time, drawing out every moan and tremble while she chased more pleasure from your body, before flipping the two of you over, causing her movements to come to a halt.

you let out a small whine at the feeling, as misa leaned back against the headboard, legs spread wide as she pushed you down and inbetween them.

her hand stayed firm on the back of your neck the whole time, guiding you down toward the slick strap still glistening from your pussy. she was half reclined, hips tilted up, the thick cock jutting up between her thighs as she pushed your head lower.

"open your mouth amor” she murmured, fingers flexing against the back of your neck. you parted your lips and she immediately guided you down, pushing your head onto the strap until it filled your mouth. the taste of yourself coated your tongue as she held you there, hand firm on your nape, not letting you pull back.

she started rocking her hips up slowly, fucking your mouth while her other hand tangled in your hair. her grip on the back of your neck stayed constant, pressing you down deeper with every upward thrust. 

"just like that," she breathed, voice low and rough. the strap slid over your tongue and nudged into your throat as she pushed your head down to meet her hips.

drool quickly spilled from the corners of your mouth, running down the shaft as misa controlled the pace. her fingers dug into the back of your neck, holding you exactly where she wanted while she fucked your face. 

every time she thrust up she pressed down on your nape, forcing the thick silicone deeper until your throat fluttered around it. you gagged softly and she groaned, the sound vibrating through her body.

"fuck you take it so well, preciosa. so well for me” she praised, eyes half lidded as she watched your lips stretch around her. 

she kept one hand locked on the back of your neck the entire time, choking and guiding you at once, pushing you down harder as her hips picked up speed. the wet, messy sounds of her using your mouth filled the room while she held you in place.

she shifted slightly, spreading her legs wider so she could thrust up more easily. her hand on your nape tightened, fingers pressing into the sensitive skin as she fucked your throat in steady, deep strokes. 

you could barely breathe between thrusts, every inhale small and desperate through your nose while she kept your head pinned down. tears pricked at your eyes but you kept sucking, tongue working the underside of the strap as she used you.

misa moaned louder, her grip on the back of your neck almost bruising as she pushed you all the way down until your nose pressed against her harness. she held you there for a few long seconds, throat full and fluttering, before letting you up just enough to gasp for air. 

then she did it again, pressing your head back down with firm pressure, fucking your face with increasing need.

“mirame, preciosa. look at me while i fuck your throat,” she ordered softly. 

you glanced up through wet lashes and the sight made her hips jerk harder. she kept her hand on the back of your neck, choking you from behind as she thrust up again and again, using your mouth like a toy. 

drool ran down your chin and onto her thighs but she didn't care, too focused on the tight heat of your throat and the way you let her control every movement.

she reached down with her free hand, sliding two fingers back into your soaked pussy while she continued pushing your head down onto the strap. 

the dual sensation made you moan loudly around her cock, the vibration pulling another deep groan from misa. she fingered you faster, curling her fingers while her hand on your nape kept you buried on the strap, barely letting you breathe.

"you're mine like this," she whispered, voice husky with pleasure. her hips snapped up harder, fucking your face with short, rough thrusts while her fingers worked you closer to the edge. the pressure on the back of your neck never eased, keeping you exactly where she wanted you as she chased her own high.

your second orgasm hit you hard while your mouth was still full of her cock. you shook and whimpered around the thick silicone, pussy clenching tight around her fingers as misa kept thrusting into your throat and pressing down on your neck. she didn't stop until your orgasm faded, only then easing her grip just enough for you to breathe properly.

even then her hand stayed on the back of your neck, stroking the skin gently as she looked down at your flushed, messy face with dark, satisfied eyes. strings of spit connected your swollen lips to the strap as she finally let you pull off a little.

"buena chica, such a good girl f'me.” she said softly, thumb brushing the side of your neck. "catch your breath... because i'm not finished with this mouth yet. not even close"

⸻

alexia who has an insane oral fixation and doesn’t even try to hide it. her mouth is always on you- sucking, licking, biting gently- like she needs something in her mouth to stay calm.

alexia who constantly wants her mouth on your tits. she’ll pull you close during a movie just to slip your shirt up and latch onto a nipple, sucking lazily for the entire film while her hands knead the soft flesh.

alexia whose eyes glaze over the second she gets one of your nipples in her mouth. she moans softly, tongue swirling, completely lost in the feeling and taste of you like it’s her favourite thing in the world.

alexia who sucks on your fingers when she’s thinking or stressed after a match. she’ll grab your hand, bring two fingers to her lips, and suck slow and deep while staring at you with dark eyes.

alexia who eats you out for hours because her oral fixation won’t let her stop. she licks and sucks on your clit like it’s honey, groaning every time you drip onto her tongue, completely addicted.

alexia whose mouth is rarely empty when you’re together. if she’s not sucking on your nipples, she’s sucking marks into your neck, your inner thighs, or your bottom lip while kissing you.

alexia who wakes you up with her mouth already on your chest, licking and sucking lazily at your tits while she’s still half asleep, like it’s the most natural way to start her day.

alexia who manhandles you onto her face when she needs you badly. she grabs your hips, pulls you down, and devours you while her hands keep you right where she wants you.

alexia whose oral fixation gets messy. she loves when your tits are shiny with her spit, covered in hickeys, and swollen from how long she’s been sucking on them.

alexia who’ll be in the middle of a conversation with you, then suddenly lean in and take your nipple into her mouth without warning, talking around it like it’s completely normal.

alexia  who sucks on your clit until you come, then keeps going- gentle, lazy sucks, because she’s not ready to give up the taste of you yet.

alexia  whose favourite way to relax is lying between your legs with her head on your thigh, softly sucking and licking at your folds like it soothes her.

⸻

alexia who towers over you in the locker room after a match, still in her kit, sweat making her jersey cling to every cut of muscle. she reaches past you for her bag and you feel completely enveloped by her frame, her voice soft when she notices you staring: “what’s that look for, pequena?”

alexia who casually rests her forearm on top of your head while talking to a teammate just to tease you, grinning when you swat at her. the easy strength in her arm and how effortlessly she can trap you there always leaves heat pooling low in your stomach.

alexia who is deceptively strong. even though she’s not the tallest player, her compact, muscular build and years of elite football mean she can lift, flip, and pin you with almost no effort- and she loves reminding you of that fact constantly.

alexia whose thighs look like they could crush your skull and feel even stronger when she pulls you into her lap on the couch. she wraps one arm around your waist and you disappear against her chest, her free hand stroking your back like she’s memorising how small you feel in her hold.

alexia who loves scooping you up under your thighs and pressing your back against the wall after training, kissing you deep while her biceps flex. “hold on, cari” she murmurs against your lips, as if you could ever fall with her supporting all your weight.

alexia who gets off on the contrast. she loves pinning both your wrists in one hand above your head while the other roams your body, smirking when she feels how easily she can hold you down.

alexia whose hands are big enough to wrap fully around your ribcage when she pulls you closer in bed. she traces your curves with her palms and you watch her fingers span across your skin, her eyes going dark with want every single time.

alexia who pins you gently to the mattress with just her body weight, one knee sliding between your legs. she doesn’t need both hands to keep you right where she wants you- her mouth and the slow grind of her hips do the rest while she whispers how perfectly you fit under her.

alexia who slides two thick fingers into you and still has room to tease with her thumb, stretching you open while her other hand holds your hip down. “so tight for me, bebita” she breathes, voice rough, watching every reaction like it’s her favourite play.

alexia who straps up and takes her time working into you, one hand braced beside your head while the other grips your thigh to keep you spread. she rocks forward inch by inch, murmuring praise in spanish and catalan until you’re full and trembling beneath her.

alexia who flips you onto your stomach like it’s nothing, covering your entire back with her warm, athletic body. she threads your fingers together- hers completely swallowing yours and fucks you slow and deep, lips at your ear telling you how good you take her.

alexia who carries you to the shower after, legs wrapped around her waist, and holds you there under the water with zero effort. she kisses the top of your head and smiles when you bury your face in her neck, completely wrapped up in her.

⸻