𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐚

Mario laughs so hard she nearly trips on the curb, while Lia just shakes her head, her lips twitching.

"Bubs," Leah sighs, adjusting the shopping bags in her arms. "I don't even know what you're begging me for. You just started pleading without context."

Juni's little shoulders slumps in exasperation, as if she was burdened with the weight of explaining obvious things to an adult. "We have to go to my bakery," she huffs. "My honored bakery! Tell them, Super Mario!"

Leah turns a sharp look on her teammate.

"What bakery?"

Mario winces and raises her hands in surrender. "Okay, don't get mad. I might have... taken her to my friend's place once. Or, uh, every day I babysat when you had physio. She got attached."

"Attached?" Leah echoed, narrowing her eyes.

"Obsessed," Lia supplies helpfully, her Swiss accent rolling smoothly. "She talks about it constantly. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised she dreams in pastries now."

Leah closes her eyes, calculating the cost of saying no. On one hand was sugar, chaos, and a wired four year old bouncing around her flat. On the other was Juni's wrath and inevitable tantrum, which was infinitely worse.

"Fine," she relents with a groan. "Is it even open right now?"

Mario shrugs, smirking. "Doesn't matter. Oni will be there."

"Oni?" Leah repeats, suspicious.

"It’s a nickname,” Mario explains. "My friend. Trust me, you'll like her."

Before Leah could question any further, Juni squeals, "Yes! Let's go, slowpokes!" And tugs them toward the direction of the bakery with surprising force for such tiny arms.

The bell above the door chimes as Mario pushes it open, and instead of the usual soft jazz, upbeat reggaeton pulses through the space. Mario grins knowingly.

"She's here," she singsongs. "Oni? Where are you? I've got a guest...or three."

From the back, you appear with your hair piled up in a claw clip, apron dusted with flour, your cheeks smudged white like battle paint. You smile warmly at the group before your gaze landed on Juni.

"La chipie is back," you laugh, bending down just in time to catch the little whirlwind as she launches herself into your arms.

"How's my troublemaker? Still causing chaos?"

"No!" Juni squeals with a grin, arms wrapping around your neck. "I've been good."

From behind them, Leah snorts involuntarily. The sound catches your attention, and you look over at her with a smile that made Leah's breath hitch. Her face goes pink immediately, and Mario didn't even bother hiding her grin. Lia just smirks knowingly.

When Lia steps forward to hug you, Juni squawks indignantly and tightens her hold.

"No!" she pouts. "Mine.”

"Juni," Leah warns softly.

But Lia only laughs, brushing it off. "It's fine. Honestly, it's adorable."

"What did you make me today?" Juni demands as you carry her toward a table.

After setting her down in a chair, you dust your hands and smile. "Well, chipie, last time you gave me two ingredients. Oreos and, very specifically, Ruffles Original Chips. So today..." You disappear briefly into the back, returning with a silver tray covered by a glass dome. With an exaggerated flair, you set it down. "I present to you, Madame Juniper," you say in your thickest French accent, "Oreo madeleines with a crushed potato chip garnish."

Juni gasps like you've handed her the crown jewels. "You're the best ever!" she declares, digging in immediately.

"Want to introduce me to your friend before Juni eats everything?" you tease Mario, wiping flour from your hands on your apron.

Mario stands, kisses your cheek, then gestures between you and Leah. "Oni, meet Leah. Leah, Oni. Don't be weird."

Leah stands quickly, sticking out her hand. "I'm Leah. Uh—I know who you are. Not in a creepy way! Just... your dad. I'm a huge fan. He's the reason I became a defender." She cringes at herself. "Wow, that sounded cooler in my head."

You grin, shaking her hand. "Nice to meet you, Leah, and relax. I promise I don't think you're a stalker."

Across the table, Juni was busy stuffing her cheeks and nodding sagely as though she'd orchestrated this exact moment.

"She talks about you all the time, you know," you add, still smiling. "Your biggest fan."

Juni, mouth full, nodded vigorously and mumbled, "It's true, Mummy."

Leah ducks her head, hiding her blush behind her hair.

"So, boss," you tap Juni's nose lightly, "what's the rating today?"

Juni chews thoughtfully, then looks to the ceiling. "Nine out of ten."

"Nine?" you gasp dramatically.

"Could be ten," she reasons. "If you have extras."

"Juniper Kathrine, Leah scolds, completely mortified.

But you just laugh. "Don't worry. She has a great personality. Let her shine. Of course I made you extra, chipie, but you can’t eat it all before you get home.”

Juni nods her head as her eyes lit up. “Okay!”

“No. That’s what you said last time and you ate them all before we left the door,” Lia pipes up.

Juni shakes her head. “No! I pinky promise!” She shoved her pinky towards you and you wrap yours with her tiny one.

You kiss the back of your thumb, “Now you have to kiss your end, it locks in the promise.”

Juni giggles before she kisses her end. You get up dramatically, entertaining the four year old. "See? Now it's official. Extra madeleines for the boss."

Juni squeals in triumph, while Lia and Mario exchange knowing looks as they watch Leah’s eyes follow you as you move to pack the madeleines. Juni hops out of her seat to lean over the counter and talk to you.

Leah rubs her temple. "You're both conspiring against me, aren't you?"

Mario smirks. "Not yet. But soon."

Lia leans closer to Leah, whispering, "You like her"

"What? No." Leah flushes. "She's just... very beautiful. And sweet. And.." She trails off, watching you laugh at something Juni says. "And she's... good with Juni."

Juni perks up at her name. It wasn't like she’s difficult, she’s just challenging. She’s hyperactive and her mouth talks before her brain most times. Leah has tried dating but most women react badly to Juni's personality or ignore her entire being.

Mario snorts. "That's Oni for you. I've never seen a kid that didn't like her. But, I will admit, she seems to favor Juni because she would never bake with potato chips. She just learned to like them last year."

“Besides we don't even know if she likes women," Leah shakes her head.

Lia can’t help but let out a laugh as Mario blinks at Leah. "She likes women, Leah.”

Before Leah can argue, Juni, still chewing, mumbles, "Mummy and Oni."

The three women froze as you return with a prettily wrapped container of extra madeleines. You set it in front of Juni’s seat as she climbs back onto it, then slid into the seat right next to Leah this time.

"For you, ma chipie," you say warmly.

Juni grins, eyes darting between you and her mum. In her little head, the pieces were clicking perfectly into place.

“Juniper Kathrine, what has gotten into you?” Leah groans as her daughter sobs in her car seat.

“I want my toy!” Juni wails, face blotchy and red. Her little legs kick uselessly against the seat. “I left it at Oni’s bakery by accident when I went with Mario.”

“Okay,” Leah sighs, rubbing her forehead with one hand while the other grips the wheel. “Let me see if Mario can get it and give it to us on Monday.”

“No!” Juni shrieks like the word personally offended her. “I need Bunny!”

Leah winces. Of course it had to be Bunny, the stuffed elephant misnamed after a rabbit, the one Jacob brought the day Juni was born. Juni had never once slept without it. If she didn’t get it back, nobody in hundred mile radius would be sleeping peacefully this weekend.

What Leah didn’t know was that Juni’s meltdown was Oscar-worthy acting.

After watching you and Leah interact that first time, Juniper, wise beyond her four chaotic years, had decided the two of you belonged together. So she did what any self respecting toddler mastermind would do and sacrificed her Bunny at your bakery for the sake of love.

Step one of her plan, complete.

“Alright, alright,” Leah caves, starting the car because the alternative is a weekend of mutual misery. “A quick in and out.”

Juni sniffles dramatically, but she’s suddenly very calm, too calm.

Leah drives with her heart thumping and her mind fried. Juni sniffles behind her, occasionally hiccuping, and every time Leah reaches back to pat her knee she has to remind herself not to crash the damn car.

She parks across from your bakery and hurriedly unbuckles her daughter.

“Mummy?” Juni asks, planting her feet stubbornly when Leah tries to guide her toward the crossing.

“Yes, my Junebug?” Leah follows where she points, and stops dead. A flower shop right across from your bakery.

“Can we get flowers for Oni?” Juni asks sweetly.

Leah freezes, her soul leaving her body.

She mutters several sentences under her breath that if Juni heard, would definitely slip a few bills into the swear jar.

“…Alright,” she finally says. “You pick.”

Juni smirks so slyly it should be criminal and marches inside like she owns the place.

She picks tulips, the soft pink ones, because Mario once mentioned you like the smell of them.

Leah pays, face burning, while the older florist beams at Juni’s enthusiastic “BUH-BYE!”

Leah jogs to catch up with her daughter, taking her hand to cross the street safely.

“Come on, Mummy! You are so slow,” Juni complains, tugging her forward with the force and confidence of a child who believes she can pull a car if she tried hard enough.

Leah just laughs under her breath and opens the bakery door. The little bell chimes.

“Oni?” Juniper calls immediately, barely audible over the French pop music thundering from your speakers.

You poke your head out from the kitchen and your whole face lights up.

“Leah! Chipie!” You rush forward, turning down the music. You swoop Juni into your arms and she wraps herself around your neck like a koala. Then you look at Leah and smile brightly. Leah smiles back before she even realizes she’s doing it.

“What do I owe this pleasure?”

Leah opens her mouth, but Juni beats her to it.

“Oni, do you have any treats?”

You giggle, and Leah gently nudges her daughter’s shoulder in a half-hearted scold.

“I have some pain au chocolat.”

Juni gasps as if you just promised her the moon. “Chocolate?”

“Yeah, chipie, chocolate.” You glance at Leah. “Is that alright? She was here earlier, but she only had a sandwich.”

Leah’s mouth goes dry. “Um—yeah. She can have it. It’s fine.”

Your smile widens. “Perfect. One moment.”

As you disappear, Leah kneels beside Juni.

“Alright, bug. Where is Bunny?”

You reappear with a pastry in one hand and the stuffed elephant in the other.

“Chipie,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Did you leave this here earlier?”

Juni grins proudly. “I did!”

Then she gestures toward the pastries and the table. “Let’s eat!”

You laugh and, with a dramatic bow, say, “Yes, boss.” You take a seat. Leah follows, her heart beating too fast.

“So,” Leah says before she can stop herself, “why did you move to London?”

You blink at her, pleasantly surprised. “To open my bakery. I have one in France, one in New York, one in Barcelona. I was deciding on LA for the next one, love California, but Laia convinced me London needed one.”

Leah’s mouth drops. “You opened all of those? At your age?”

You shrug, shy. “It’s my livelihood. And I like seeing people happy because of my treats.” You glance at Juni, who is shoveling chocolate into her mouth like she’s in training for the Olympics. “Like Chipie here.”

Leah softens completely as she watches her kid beam at you.

“Where did you learn to bake?” Leah asks, voice lower now, genuinely interested.

“Professionally? The Culinary Arts Academy. Bachelor’s and master’s in Pastry and Culinary Arts.”

“Wow.”

“Unofficially?” you smile. “My dad.”

Leah’s eyebrows shoot up. “Your father? The Maestro? Le Roi? The most feared center back in football taught you to bake? You’re taking the piss.”

You throw your head back laughing. “I’m serious! I wanted to make chocolate chip cookies at age five. We had no recipe. My father told me: ‘Ma princesse, baking is about your soul. Not measurements.’”

Leah snorts. “How’d that turn out?”

You suck your teeth. “Let’s just say the 2004 Arsenal men’s team were… extremely polite about my rock-hard cookies. Surprised half the team wasn’t out with food poisoning.”

Leah laughs so hard she wipes tears from her eyes. Juni watches the two of you like she’s watching a very successful experiment.

“Oni, can you teach me how to bake? Mummy can’t bake or cook,” Juni announces.

Leah’s laugh freezes into an offended gape. You burst into giggles.

“Mummy can’t cook?” you tease, leaning forward, chin propped on your hand.

Leah blushes so deeply it reaches her ears. “I can cook.”

Juni shakes her head solemnly. “No, you can’t, Mummy. It’s okay. I will learn to cook for both of us.”

You nearly fall out of your chair laughing while Leah splutters.

“You little monkey,” Leah growls playfully, standing up to grab Juni and flip her upside down. Juni shrieks as her hair dangles toward the floor. “Say I can cook!”

“Never!” Juni cackles. “Oni, save me!”

You stand and gently pluck Juni from Leah’s arms. Leah lets you without hesitation. You set Juni on her feet, and she immediately hides behind you, clutching your legs like you’re her shield.

“She’s evil,” Juni whispers loudly into your jeans. “I tell you.”

“I’ll show you evil, missy,” Leah says, narrowing her eyes theatrically.

All three of you burst into laughter, yours warm and melodic, Leah’s soft and breathless, Juni’s wild and delighted.

Juni watches the two of you closely and knows her plan is working perfectly.

The next couple of weeks fall into a rhythm that neither you nor Leah acknowledges out loud.

Juni arrives with Mario while Leah is at physio. Juni will “accidentally” leaves something behind. Her bow, her sparkly water bottle, an entire Lego set that took her three days to build, and once, an actual framed picture she drew of you and Leah holding hands under a rainbow. Then Leah and Juni come back after closing, always with flowers, always with some excuse to linger, always staying long after the lights should’ve been off.

Each time, Juni gets her odd dessert combination: sour gummy bears tartelettes, Nutella and marshmallow cinnamon rolls, cookie lasagna (not bad), and cotton candy flavored popcorn (Leah almost barfed).

Tonight, Juni left her boots, she had started playing at some camps Arsenal put on for younger kids, and when they come in, she is vibrating with pride.

“Oni!” Juni cheers as she bursts through the door and barrels into your legs for a hug. “We got you dahlias!”

You press your hand to your heart, smiling as you take them. “Merci, ma chipie. You always bring me the prettiest ones.” You lean down and kiss her forehead. “Your treat is on the table.”

Leah raises an eyebrow as she steps inside, closing the door behind her. “What’s the crazy combo today?”

“You’re going to love this one,” you tease, tugging her into a hug she returns without hesitation. Her face ends up tucked into your neck for a second too long, her breath warm on your collarbone. You pretend you don’t feel your pulse jump.

When you pull away, you lean close and whisper, “Ham and cheese.”

Leah snorts. “That’s not crazy.”

“That’s because she said,” you pitch your voice up in an exaggerated toddler imitation, “‘I need to eat like Mummy now that I’m a footballer.’”

Leah’s face softens instantly. Her whole expression glows.

You nudge her. “Adorable, no?”

“A bit… dangerously so,” Leah murmurs, unable to hide her smile.

You slide into your usual seats. The routine is instinct by now. You sit across from each other, Juni in the middle on her special little chair, kicking her feet.

“How was practice?” you ask, voice dropping into that automatic affection you don’t notice anymore.

Leah steals a bite of Juni’s sandwich.

“Mummy!” Juni whines, scandalized.

Leah shrugs unapologetically. “I told you, it’s training, not practice. And it was good. Light day.”

Juni opens her mouth, lets out a massive burp, and giggles.

“Juniper Kathrine,” Leah warns, rubbing her temples.

“’Sorry,” Juni mumbles, unbothered as she keeps eating.

You raise an eyebrow at Leah. “You know there’s a stereotype with you center backs.”

Leah blinks. “What stereotype?”

“You and my father are basically clones,” you say bluntly. “Single parents, played for Arsenal, captained national teams, and both of you managed to name your daughters after yourselves. That’s suspicious.”

Leah sputters. “It’s not— I— No! I’m just… uncreative.”

“Clearly.” You jab a finger at her. “My father and I literally have the same name. I just have an an extra E and the accent. And then you gave Juni your middle name but with a K instead of a C. Subtle.”

“Mummy is conceited,” Juni announces proudly.

Leah’s head snaps toward her. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“Kei and G,” Juni singsongs. “They said you’re conceited.”

Leah scoffs. “What do they know?”

You raise a hand. “Obviously enough to clock you.”

Leah’s eyes narrow in playful offense. “Oh, you think you’re funny?”

“Hilarious,” you correct, standing when you notice Juni is done. “Come on, Chipie.”

Juni hops down immediately, following you with pure devotion.

Leah blinks. “Where are you going?”

“Chipie requested baking time,” you say simply, tying Juni’s tiny apron.

When you plop an oversized, dramatic chef’s hat onto Juni’s head, Leah wheezes.

“Where did you get that?”

“My graduation hat,” you say proudly, adjusting it. It droops over Juni’s eyes, making her laugh.

Leah lifts her phone, capturing the moment, smiling so softly you feel it like a hand on your ribs.

“All right,” you clap. “Let’s begin.”

“Chocolate chips!” Juni beams.

Leah’s eyes widen. “You’re making cookies?”

You nod. “What Chipie wants, she gets.”

“Yeah, Mummy,” Juni echoes smugly.

Leah lifts her hands. “My apologies, your highnesses. Continue.”

The kitchen fills with the warm sound of mixing, the hum of French pop, the smell of brown sugar melting.

“Gentle,” you guide, holding Juni’s hand as she cracks an egg. “Voilà. Now add the butter.”

You switch to French automatically, “C’est du sucre… ça c’est la vanille…” and Juni parrots each word back, proud of herself with every syllable. The four year old is determined to learn French so she can talk with you in your first language.

Leah watches from the stool, her face softening with every passing minute.

She doesn’t blink when flour dusts your hair.

She doesn’t move when Juni shrieks with laughter after turning the mixer too high.

She just watches the two of you, like she wants to burn the memory into her brain.

At some point, she realizes—this what she used to imagine home would feel like.

“What do you rate them?” your accented English snaps her out of her head.

Juni munches loudly, thinking hard. “Hmm… a thousand out of ten!”

Her cookie is chaos with marshmallows, Twix, Oreos, pretzels. Obviously, you have a problem saying no to the girl.

“A thousand?” you gasp dramatically. “I must put it on the menu. Chef Juni, will you allow it?”

Juni nods so intensely her hat slips sideways. “Yes! And call it… Chef Chipie’s Princesse Footballer Cookies.”

Leah grins at the name.

“Perfect.” You write it down. “I’ll text my team. Chef Chipie, can you pack the cookies?”

Juni begins shoving cookies into the box, humming loudly.

You step away and tap out a message to your staff.

Behind you, Leah comes close. Close enough you feel her before you hear her.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Thank you.”

You turn. “For what?”

Leah glances at Juni, who is eating another cookie behind your back. Then she meets your eyes.

“For making her this happy. For giving her something to look forward to every week. For…” She exhales, lips curling. “For being you.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because she’s looking at you like she means it. Like she’s been meaning it for a while.

“Leah…” you start.

But Juni runs up, tugging on Leah’s jeans, chocolate on her chin.

“Mummy, Oni says I’m a real chef!”

Leah lifts her daughter, kissing her cheek. “You are, bug.”

It was your usual Saturday morning at the farmers market, your favorite ritual of the week. Fresh air plus fresh produce equals fresh inspiration. You moved with practiced ease down the row of stalls, dropping bright yellow lemons into your tote bag with satisfaction. Their scent already had you imagining lemon curd with something tamarind in it.

You were reaching for a bunch of mint when a familiar shriek cracked through the quiet bustle.

“ONI!”

You barely had time to brace yourself before a small body slammed into your legs. You stumbled back, laughing as you caught your balance.

“Bonjour, mon aim-ee!” Juni beams up at you, absolutely butchering the word amie and somehow making it sound like the cutest thing in existence.

“Oh! Bonjour, ma chipie,” you say, crouching down to hug her. She clings to your neck like she hasn’t seen you in years. You take her little hand automatically, scanning the crowd. “Where is your mum? Who are you here with?”

“That would be us,” a warm voice says.

You straighten and find an older woman and man approaching, both smiling like they already know you.

“I’m Amanda, Leah’s mum,” the woman says. “They both talk about you all the time.”

“David,” the man says with a firm handshake. “Leah’s father.”

You smile politely. “Hi! Wonderful to meet you. I’m—”

“She’s my Oni!” Juni declares proudly, hugging your leg like she’s claiming you.

Amanda and David share a knowing look.

Juni had told them her “get Mummy and Oni married” plan. She gives them consistent updates, but the two assumed it was just Juni being Juni. Now, seeing you? They understand why Juni is working so hard on the project.

It takes about thirty seconds of Juni tugging your hand with those deadly puppy eyes before you fall in line and join the Williamson family on their market run. Amanda bites back a laugh every time you fold instantly.

David walks beside you. “I had no idea The Minister of Defense was your father,” he says enthusiastically. “He was a nightmare when Arsenal played Tottenham. An even bigger nightmare when England played France.”

You snort, amused that Leah grew up a Gunner in a Spurs household. You could only imagine the arguments during face offs.

“Oh, here we go,” Amanda sighs. “Enough football talk. I want to hear about your bakery.”

“Oh! It just opened a couple months ago,” you say quickly.

“Fourth location, right?” Amanda adds casually. “And one of them has a star?”

You blink, surprised Leah mentioned all of that.

“Yes,” you admit softly. “Paris was my first. My grandparents live there and I wanted to stay close. Then New York after Paris earned its Michelin. I figured if I can bag New York I can do whatever I wanted. Then Barcelona shortly after New York. Barcelona is the longest place I’ve lived so I was a bit… homesick. And now, I’m conquering London.”

“That’s incredible.” David whistles. “You must be stupidly talented.”

Juni nods aggressively. “She’s magic, Nana,

Grandpa. I’m getting a cookie named after me!”

“Oh?” Amanda raises her eyebrows. “Are you now? You’re practically as famous as your mother.”

“I AM.” Juni places her hands on her hips. “It’s called the Chef Chipie Princess Footballer Cookie!”

Amanda and David glance at you for confirmation.

“It’s true,” you laugh. “Come Monday morning, it will debut to all of London.”

“All. Of. London,” Juni repeats dramatically. A couple of people passing give judging looks at the sheer volume.

Before Amanda can scold her, you crouch and conspiratorially whisper, “Right, Chipie, all of London. But we mustn’t yell. Too many old people here.” You widen your eyes. “It hurts their ears, you know. It gets so sensitive when they are so old.”

Juni giggles behind her hands. “Like Nana and Grandpa?”

“No, no,” you whisper back. “They’re the good ones.”

Juni beams… then brightens even more. “Oni! Will you come to Mummy’s game with us?”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea!” Amanda gasps. “We have an extra ticket. Jacob got sick.”

“I—I’m not sure—”

“Dear, I insist,” Amanda says.

Juni tugs your hand, looking up at you with those damn puppy eyes. “Please oh pleeeeease?”

You sigh, trying to resist the power of the pout. You were doomed from the start.

Which is why an hour later you’re in the Williamson family box at the Emirates, wearing one of your father’s old Arsenal jerseys.

Juni bounces beside you so hard the seats shake. “Oni! LOOK. THERE THEY ARE!”

The players walk out of the tunnel.

“Mummy! Look! THERE’S MUMMY!” Juni screams, waving wildly.

Leah looks up and sees Juni tucked into your side. The both you wave to her with bright smiles. She freezes for a second then her entire face breaks into the most helpless, wide, incandescent smile. Like she couldn’t stop it if she tried.

On the pitch, Mariona nudges Lia. The two have a bet going on when the two of you get together. From the looks of it, Lia’s going to win.

“That’s it,” Lia murmurs smugly. “You owe me dinner.”

Steph and Beth, further down the line, stare.

“When the hell did she smile?” Beth mutters.

“Mate, I didn’t know her face could do that.” Steph replies.

After the match, you stay in the box, holding Juni in your lap while Amanda and David chat with other parents.

“I’m tired, Oni…” Juni mumbles, curling into your chest.

“I know, Chipie,” you murmur, smoothing her hair. “You’ll be home soon.”

“Junebug?” Leah’s voice calls from the doorway.

She’s damp-haired, glowing from the win, cheeks still flushed from adrenaline.

Juni perks up instantly. “MUMMY! YOU WON!”

Leah scoops her up, spinning her before planting a kiss to her head. “Thanks, bug.”

When Leah looks at you, something in her gaze softens even more. She opens one arm and you step forward without thinking. She pulls you into the hug with her and Juni. The little girl burrows deeper, enjoy the warmth she felt.

Amanda sneakily takes a video while David takes a photo.

Leah murmurs near your ear, “I didn’t know you were coming… or that you met my parents.”

“Juni spotted me at the market,” you shrug. “And they insisted.”

Leah smiles softly, still on an adrenaline high, but she looks a little stunned by it.

Amanda gestures that they’re leaving, and you all head out. Juni insists on holding both your hands, swinging between you and Leah.

“I’m glad you came,” Leah says quietly.

“Me too,” you admit.

“Me three,” Juni adds proudly.

Out of nowhere— “Oni!” someone yells behind you. Before you can turn, arms wrap around you and lift you off the ground.

“Laia!” you laugh breathlessly.

“Et trobava a faltar.” She mumbles. “Fa temps que no et veig, com estàs?” [I missed you. I haven’t seen you in a while, how have you been?”]

“He estat bé, he estat bé,” you reply, laughing. “Posa’m!” [I’ve been fine, I’ve been fine. Put me down!]

Laia finally sets you down just as Mariona appears, pulling you into a quick, affectionate hug and a kiss to your crown. “Vaig veure on estaves assegut, pel camí.” [I saw where you were sitting, by the way.]

Your cheeks burn. “Va ser d’última hora i la Juni em volia aquí.” [It was last minute and Juni wanted me here.]

Leah blinks. “Was that Catalan? You speak Catalan?”

You shrug. “I lived in Catalonia for ten years off and on.”

Before she can respond, you three get another interruption.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” a northern accent cuts in. You meet Beth Mead’s smirk and Steph’s welcoming smile.

“Oh piss off,” Leah groans. “We’re leaving.”

“Mummy,” Juni scolds, “that’s not nice.”

“Yeah, Leah,” Beth mocks sweetly. “Not nice.”

Steph waves, also nosy. “We just want to meet your friend.”

Juni takes control. “Beth, Stephy, this is my Oni!”

You reach out and shake their hands. “Nice to meet you both.”

“That’s enough,” Leah mutters, dragging you away.

“She’s so rude,” Beth stage whispers.

Leah rolls her eyes so hard you snort. “Where’s your car?” she asks you once you’re out of earshot.

“Oh—your parents brought me. I was going to take the bus.”

Leah stops in her tracks. “Absolutely not. I’ll drive you.”

“Leah, no, I can just—”

“No.” Her tone is final. “I insist. Juni insists. Get in.”

The ride is quiet only because Juni is asleep, but you and Leah talk the entire time. Albeit, softly like you’re sharing secrets, only so the child didn’t stir.

The car ride also consists of you two playing music. You introduce her to French rap and she introduces you to whatever chaotic mix she listens to. You judge her taste and she laughs at you for judging.

By the time she pulls into your apartment complex, neither of you wants the night to end.

Leah walks you to your door, shifting shyly, hands in her pockets. “Okay, I’m not the best at this but…” she exhales, trying again. “I like you. A lot. And I’d like to take you out. This Saturday? If you want?”

You don’t hesitate and a smile blooms across your face. “I would love to, Leah.”

Leah breaks into the softest, purest grin you’ve ever seen. And if Juni weren’t asleep in her car seat, you swear she’d be cheering.

“Oh fuck me,” Leah mutters, pacing the living room with one shoe on and one shoe in her hand. Her first babysitter canceled earlier in the week, the second canceled yesterday, and now the third one canceled exactly an hour before she’s supposed to pick you up.

Juni sits on the sofa, legs swinging, watching her mother unravel.

“Mummy,” she says softly, “you said a bad word.”

“I know, baby,” Leah groans, raking a hand through her hair. “Mummy’s… frustrated.”

Juni nods sagely like a tiny CEO. “Call Oni.”

Right. Leah grabs her phone immediately. You answer in three seconds, your voice warm enough to melt metal.

“Leah?” your voice echoes through the speaker, soft and bright, instantly making Leah’s breath hitch. “What’s up?”

“Um,” Leah exhales, squeezing her eyes shut, “Juni’s sitter just canceled on me… again. I’m so sorry.”

You giggle and Leah swears her heart skips a beat. “It’s no problem. Just bring her along.”

“It’s an upscale restaurant,” Leah argues, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m not even sure they allow kids.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say easily. “I know the owner and I’ll call her after this. Just bring her. It will be fun.”

You say it so gently, so naturally, that Leah has to blink rapidly to keep her eyes from glossing over.

“She’ll be excited,” she manages. “And… thank you.”

“Leah, it’s not anything really,” you say. “I can’t wait. See you soon.”

You hang up and Leah stares at her phone like she’s just been blessed by a deity.

“Juni?” she breathes. “What dress do you want to wear, baby?”

Juni gasps dramatically. “The pink one! The sparkly one!”

“Of course it’s the sparkly one,” Leah mutters with a smile.

Within the hour, Leah manages to get Juni dressed in the expensive designer dress she got from a campaign and get out the door.

And then, there you are. Standing outside your apartment building, coat draped elegantly, hair styled perfectly, looking like the reason half of London goes to that restaurant in the first place.

Leah’s breath catches. “You look—wow.”

Juni elbows her mother. “Say pretty, Mummy.”

“You look pretty,” Leah corrects, cheeks pink. “Very… very pretty.”

You grin. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Williamson.”

Juni throws her hands up. “Let’s go to dinner!”

The restaurant was beautiful, with ambient lighting and live jazz softly playing.

“Table for Williamson?” Leah tells the hostess when you arrive.

You stand slightly behind her, greeting the familiar hostess with a smile as you hold Juni’s hand.

The hostess smiles back warmly. “Right this way.”

She leads the three of you to a quiet corner of the restaurant near the window overlooking the Thames River. The city lights reflect on the water in patches of gold and silver, romantic enough to make Leah swallow hard.

The hostess sets the menus down, then slips a couple of coloring sheets and crayons to Juni. She winks at you before walking away.

Leah stares at you, scandalized. “You did that?”

You shrug and sip your complimentary wine. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are something else.” Leah leans closer, voice low, eyes lingering on your lips longer than she should. “I don’t know what, exactly. But something.”

Your cheeks warm. “Dangerous thing to tell me on a first date, Leah.”

Leah flushes pink, suddenly looking thirteen again. “Yeah, well… it’s true.”

Juni, meanwhile, is on her absolute best behavior. Too good, actually…it’s suspicious.

“More water, Oni?” she offers in the poshest British accent possible.

“Oh please, Miss Chipie,” you reply, playing along.

You and Leah assume Juni is going to pour imaginary water. But instead the four-year-old raises her tiny hand and waves down the waitress.

“Excuse me?” Juni calls sweetly. “Can my Oni get more water, please?”

The waitress giggles, pours water in your glass.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Juni says primly.

“My pleasure, Miss,” the waitress smiles.

Leah’s jaw drops. “How cheeky,” she mutters, poking her daughter’s cheeks.

Juni giggles. “I’m fancy.”

“You’re four,” Leah deadpans.

“And fancy,” Juni insists.

Leah looks back at you, something softens in her chest.

You’re watching mother and daughter with the fondest expression, like you’ve been folded into this moment without even trying.

Your finger grazes your wine glass. Leah watches it, eyes tracing the movement, then your wrist, then your neckline. When she looks up, you’re already watching her.

“So…” you begin softly. “You were really going to cancel the date?”

Leah shifts, embarrassed. “I didn’t want to… but I didn’t want Juni to ruin it.”

“Juni doesn’t ruin anything,” you say. “She makes everything sweeter.”

Leah’s eyes widen when she realizes you’re being a hundred percent serious.

You continue, softer, “Besides… I wasn’t going to let you cancel on me.”

Leah swallows. “I didn’t want to,” she admits. “Honestly? I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“Me too,” you confess.

Your foot brushes hers under the table, accidentally at first but you let it linger making Leah’s breath catches.

“Careful,” she murmurs. “I might fall for you faster than I planned.”

You tilt your head, dangerously charming.

“Who says I don’t want that?”

Halfway through dinner, Juni reaches for your hand while coloring. You lace your fingers with hers naturally.

“She’s obsessed with you,” Leah says, smiling. “Completely.”

You glance at her. “I wonder where she gets it from.”

Leah looks down at her plate, trying to hide her blush. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“And yet I keep doing it,” you tease.

Juni looks up innocently. “Are you flirting again?”

Leah chokes. You bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“Who keeps teaching you these things?” Leah asks her daughter.

“Kyra and Lessi told me when two people like each other, they flirt. Like Super Mario and Lia,” Juni explains without lifter her head from her paper.

You let out a bubble of laughter at Leah’s exasperated expression.

“I need to monitor who you talk to.”

After dessert, Juni yawns so dramatically the whole restaurant could hear her.

“Time for bed, Junebug,” Leah says.

“Noooooo,” Juni says tiredly, collapsing onto you instead of her mum. She curls into your side like it was first nature to her.

Leah watches, heart softening and breaking at the same time.

“You’re good with her,” she says quietly.

You lift Juni into your lap. “She makes it easy.”

The bill comes and Leah reaches for it but you place your hand over hers. “I’m paying.”

“No, no—this is our date,” Leah protests. “I asked you out.”

“And I suggested this place,” you remind her. “So let me take care of it. Do you get actually sick at the thought of me paying? Cause you did this last time at the grocery store…”

Leah goes still with your hand is still on hers.

“Okay,” she whispers. “You can pay…this time.”

You smile. “I like when you listen.”

Leah tries not to show the full body shiver that gives her but fails as a wicked smirk appears on your face.

Outside, the air is cool and smells faintly of riverwater and jasmine. Juni sleeps in Leah’s arms, one hand still loosely curled around your sleeve. You walk beside them, close enough your coat brushes Leah’s arm. At your apartment door, Leah pauses as you both linger.

“Thank you,” Leah says softly. “For tonight. For… everything.”

“You’re welcome,” you murmur.

“Can I see you again?” Leah asks quietly, voice low, hopeful, almost shy.

You smile, slow and warm. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Leah exhales like she’s been underwater for a week. “Good,” she whispers. “Good.”

She starts to turn when you gently touch her wrist, light but intentional. “Leah.”

You lean in, not enough to kiss, but close enough she forgets how breathing works.

“I had a wonderful time,” you say.

Leah smiles so softly it could break something inside you. “Me too.”

She walks away, carrying Juni, but she keeps looking back over her shoulder. And for the rest of the night, Leah just cannot stop smiling like an idiot.

“Oni!” Juni breaks into a full sprint across the small school courtyard straight into your awaiting arms.

You barely have time to brace yourself before she jumps, wrapping her arms around your neck. You laugh, lifting her easily.

“Hi, Chipie,” you greet, peppering her cheek with a quick kiss. “You ready to go?”

“Always,” she beams.

Many things have changed in the span of two weeks. You spend more time with Juni and Leah than with anyone else. Your lives have folded into each other with surprising ease.

Instead of Mariona picking Juni up from Reception while Leah is at the physio’s, you get her and bring her straight to the bakery. Juni’s joy brings a wave of light to your staff and customers. She drew a picture last week of you, Leah, Bunny, and herself standing in front of the bakery. You framed it right on the main wall and customers now point at it daily, asking who the tiny footballer artist is.

And the Chef Chipie Princess Footballer Cookies are such a hit that your staff jokes you need to pay Juni royalties.

Leah’s physio ends around the same time the bakery closes, so she always rushes over with a small bouquet from the flower shop next door. After some hours of you testing recipes, Leah distracting you, Juni dancing around the kitchen, the three of you leave together like a tiny found family. It feels normal, almost too normal. It felt comfortable in a way that scares you, because it feels like something you have known for years and not just two weeks.

So when you pick Juni up from her after school football club today, you expect nothing out of the ordinary.

“Say bye to your friends, Chipie,” you tell her, waving to her teacher.

“Bye!” Juni shouts. You begin the ten minute walk toward the bakery.

“How was your day?” you ask as Juni methodically skips every single crack on the pavement like touching one will summon immediate doom.

“It was good! We had music class. And at recess I played Bakery with my friends and I was like you.”

“Like me?” you laugh.

“Yep. And everyone was mad because I made the best mud pie.”

You cringe. “Juni. Please tell me you washed your hands.”

“Teacher made me,” Juni nods solemnly as if she has suffered greatly.

You shake your head fondly. Silence falls between you, warm and comfortable. The bakery storefront comes into view when Juni suddenly speaks again.

“Do you think Mummy will let me get a puppy?”

You bark a laugh. “Where did that come from?”

“Sophie E. and Sophie B. have dogs. And lots and lots of people have pets. But we have none.” Juni pouts. “Maybe I will ask for a bunny. A little fluffy bunny.”

You open the bakery door and hold it for her. “You know what? I would really, really love to see that.”

You look around. The bakery is quiet with only a few customers linger, finishing their pastries. The warm smell of vanilla and caramel fills the air.

“Have a great day!” Juni says brightly to a customer leaving.

“You too, Juni,” the customer replies.

You shake your head with a smile and start helping your staff with closing tasks, checking on Juni periodically. She is sitting at the front window, drawing with intense focus.

“You all good there, Chipie?” you ask, waving goodbye to the last staff member.

Juni quickly hides her paper behind her back. “Yep. All good.”

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “Mhm. If you say so.” You wipe down the counter, still watching her with narrowed eyes. She gives an exaggerated innocent smile.

You let it go. “I was thinking pasta for dinner today. Any ideas?”

“I want meatballs,” Juni says decisively.

You shrug. “Spaghetti and meatballs it is.”

You head to the back to gather your bag. The door chimes a moment later, followed by Leah’s voice. “Hi. Sorry I am late. I got held up.”

There is the sound of hushed whispers from the front. You approach slowly. “What are you two whispering about?” you ask.

“Nothing,” they say in unison much too fast.

You narrow your eyes. “Uh huh.”

You turn your back to lock the door. “So, Juni and I decided on spaghetti and meatballs for dinner so we might have to stop at the store if you do not have the…”

You turn around and freeze. Juni stands holding a bouquet of pink tulips almost as tall as she is, and the drawing she made earlier now clearly visible. It reads “Mummy + Oni” in giant crayon letters with a wobbly heart drawn around the two stick figures.

Your lips part wordlessly. “What is going on?”

Before you can fully process, Leah steps forward and pulls out a much larger bouquet made of white roses and sea lavender, the two flowers you love most. You gasp softly.

Leah’s cheeks are flushed pink. She is nervous. Vulnerable in a way you have never seen. “Obviously I am not as cute as her when I ask this,” she says quietly. “But will you be mine?”

Your breath catches. Your heart pounds so loudly you feel it in your throat. You do not even hear what comes out of your mouth. It is something like yes or maybe just a small broken sound of joy, but Leah understands.

You throw yourself into her arms. Leah catches you instantly, burying her face in your neck. Her hands slide to your waist, tugging you closer as you pull her down into a kiss. It is slow at first, surprised and sweet, then deeper as the truth sinks in. She is yours. You are hers.

“Mummy and Oni,” Juni cheers triumphantly as she wraps her arms around both your legs. “I am so happy!”

You laugh against Leah’s shoulder before pulling away slightly to pick Juni up. “Me too, Chipie. Me too.”

A chuckle nearly escapes you from the mere thought of your girlfriend’s reaction to the prank, but you smother it with a quick wipe with the table napkin. Leah was not immune to your pranks, in fact she was a regular victim, so you knew you had to be sneaky this time. You knew you would not be able to put your phone anywhere near the table without it looking suspicious. Luckily, Leah’s parents had an indoor camera perfectly positioned to capture and record the entire room, with sound. The camera was mainly to watch over their family dog when they are out, but today it was going to be your sidekick for this prank.

You mentally remind yourself to ask Leah’s parents for a copy later on if the prank was successful. 

You were taken out of your master plan daydream by the sound of the kitchen door swinging open. Leah’s dad emerges with a stoneware platter held high, his cheeks flushed red, no doubt from the blast of the oven. A hush falls around the room as he sets it down in the middle of the table, the massive joint of beef still spitting and hissing. The distinct aroma of garlic cloves, scorched rosemary, and the sweet smell of perfectly roasted carrots wafts through the air. A classic British sunday roast was on today’s menu. 

The perfect catalyst for today’s prank. 

Leah’s mum wastes no time, picking up the cutlery and cutting up the beef into serving sizes. Everyone else at the table start to tuck in, scooping up roasted potatoes, and serving themselves Yorkshire pudding. From across you, Leah is grinning as she drowns her platter in savoury gravy. 

You purposely choose a more reserved approach, only pilling your plate with a few of the roast potatoes and a modest scoop of cauliflower cheese. You happily accept the pitcher of gravy as it gets passed to you by Leah’s brother, smiling as you watch the liquid trickle over the potatoes on your plate.

Yum.

Then you dig in.

The first bite is all potato, loud and crisp. You settle it with the next bite of cauliflower cheese, its thick consistency works perfectly against the peppery gravy that drowns your plate. It’s heavy, honest food. You had been to Leah’s parent’s house so many times over the past year that you were no stranger to her Dad’s cooking.

Between mouthfuls, you catch Leah’s eye and offer a small smile and a quick wink. No one at the table is talking much, the only sounds are the scraping of forks and the rhythmic glugg of the gravy boat being passed around. 

You decided that it was the perfect time. 

Clearing your throat, you catch your girlfriend’s eye over the plate of still steaming roasted potatoes. “Lee, could I have a bit of the beef too?”

You hadn’t said it very loud, but you might as well have said it over the megaphone because as soon as those words left your mouth, it was silence from the table that followed. 

“What?” An eyebrow raise from the blonde.

You repeat the question, “Could I please have a bit of beef?". An emphasised 'please' for added effect.

The silence was broken by the sound of a fork clattering onto a plate and the sound of a throat clearing that followed.

“Why is she asking you for permission to eat, Leah?”

The way Leah quickly turns her head towards her Mum, you could’ve sworn she got whiplash. “I don’t know, Mum–”

“Well she’s just done it– why’s she done that for then? Have you not been letting her eat?”

You stifle a smile, pressing your lips together tightly and instead opting for a confused expression.

Your girlfriend is flustered, cheeks warming red. “WHAT N-NO. I have no idea what she's on about”

Her Dad clears his throat. “Leah, that's not right”. He says disappointedly. He grabs the serving fork, picking out the plumpest bits of beef and piling them onto your plate. You mutter a quick thank you, from behind a curtain of your hair, not being able to look him directly in the eye without wanting to end the prank as soon as it started.

“That’s a bit rude, Leah— controlling what she eats” Her brother pipes up. You glance at him and was surprised to see a stoic expression on his face. You had only ever seen him smile and joke around, so to see him actually look serious was almost a scary sight to see.

Leah glares at him, taken aback by the entire situation. She thumps the table with her palm loudly. “I don't control what she eats. Who the fuck d’ya think I am”

Her mum turns to you, patting your hand sweetly. “You go on and eat whatever you want, darling”

Leah is still baffled, eyes wider than you had ever seen them, the blue almost turning black from how diluted her pupils were. She pushes her hair back harshly, one of her nervous ticks. She silently mouths “you taking the piss?”

You avoid her stare, instead picking at the food on your plate. You stifle a giggle, but a smile must have slipped out because Leah stands up and yells, pointing at you from across the table. “You're actually having a laugh. Mum– she’s smiling. This has to be one of her pranks again”

Caught. 

You put your cutlery down, finally letting the laugh that was bubbling from inside you free. “I was being silly. It was one of those Tiktok pranks”

“Babe! What the fuck” 

“Language, Leah” Her mum sends her a disapproving stare but her shoulders relax, probably relieved that her daughter isn’t some right wanker who mistreats her girlfriend. “Sit down and finish your food.”

“She nearly got me fucking killed by my own family–”. She's still gesturing towards you, pointedly ignoring her brother who was now full-on belly laughing, head thrown back and all.

From the other end of the table, her mum lets out a soft laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t fuss. We’ve seen worse than a silly joke.”

“Exactly,” her dad adds, carving another slice of beef like nothing’s happened. He nods at his daughter. “You and your brother used to do worse pranks growing up, Leah. Remember when you gave your brother that horrid "haircut" in his sleep...”

Her brother pipes up. "And it was picture day the next morning. Had to go to school with half my hair gone"

Leah is still looking at you, still fuming, but there’s something softer underneath it now—embarrassment, probably. You round the table, going to stand by her chair. “I’m sorry, love. It was supposed to be a lighthearted joke”

You wrap your arms around her, hugging her tightly and pressing multiple kisses against her cheek. A pout still rested on her lips, but you can see the corners twitching ever so slightly. A moment later, she gives in and wraps an arm around your waist.

“Not a joke when my family would disown me just to take your side, you idiot” 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

guess who's backkkk lol. i've missed y'all x

・❥・- kisses, butter

Alexia kept her eyes on the scene playing out in her backyard, her fingers curled loosely around the neck of her own bottle. The condensation was already slicking her palm, a losing battle against the lingering heat of a Barcelona summer dusk.

Around them, the garden had settled into the easy, sprawling chaos of an end-of-season night. Music drifted from the speakers in her ceiling, a mix of reggaeton and something a little mellower (it was a barbecue after all, not an Ibiza outing). There was a rare and welcome kind of lightness to the team when the pressures of the season finally broke. 

Alexia watched them all, a passive smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It was a good view. It was her home, filled with her people, at the end of a year that had taken everything out of them. She should have been relaxed.

She wasn’t.

Her gaze drifted, entirely out of her own control, toward the other end of the patio. 

You were sitting on the low stone wall, one leg tucked beneath you, laughing at something Kika had just said. You were holding a fresh beer – your third, if Alexia’s internal, irritatingly precise counter was accurate – and the fading sunlight was catching the edge of your shoulder, turning the skin there a soft, golden tone.

You looked at ease. A part of the landscape.

And you hadn't looked at Alexia once in twenty minutes.

“You're doing it again,” Irene said, her voice dropping below the volume of the music, though she didn't turn her head. She just took another slow sip of her beer, her eyes fixed forward on the patio.

Alexia’s jaw tightened. She took a deliberate drink of her own beer, the crisp bitterness doing nothing to clear the sudden, tight heat in her throat. “Doing what?”

“Staring at her like you're trying to figure out if she's a tactical problem you can solve by running harder.” Irene shifted her weight, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “It's June, Ale. The season is over. You don't have to mark her out of the game anymore.”

“I am not marking her," Alexia muttered, her voice clipped, though her ears felt suddenly warmer than the night air warranted. “I am hosting. I am ensuring my guests have everything they need.”

“Right. Of course.” Irene tapped her bottle against Alexia's with a dull clink. “That must be why you've spent the last ten minutes looking like you want to, first, physically remove Kika from her personal space, and then personally remove her clothes.”

Alexia choked.

A sudden, dramatic splash of a cough that sent the crisp liquid straight to the back of her throat. She swallowed hard, her knuckles tightening around the neck of her bottle as she tried, with every ounce of discipline possessed, to keep her features entirely flat.

“Irene,” She hissed, her voice dropping to the low and lethal register that usually meant she was scolding a teammate for mouthing off to the referee, seconds away from a yellow.

“What?” 

Irene didn’t even blink. She just took another casual sip, the glass bottle clinking softly against her teeth as she watched Patri teach Clara, who apparently had a bit of a fear of open flames, carefully flip the meat over on the grill. The younger midfielder managed two steaks before she screeched and jumped away as the juices sizzled on the coals.

“Watch your mouth,” Alexia muttered, her cheeks burning with a heat that had absolutely nothing to do with the warm Mediterranean air. She shifted her stance, deliberately turning her back slightly toward the patio to break her own line of sight. “She’s a teammate. It is completely inappropriate to say things like that. If anyone heard you–”

“Nobody is listening, Ale. Everyone is halfway into their fourth drink, except you, who has been nursing that same bottle like a sixteen-year-old at their first house party. And Patri, who I’m convinced is trying to smoke us all out with that grill.” Irene finally turned her head, fixing the captain with a calm, unimpressed look. “And let’s be honest–”

“I don’t want you to be honest.”

“–if I said that in the locker room? Half the squad would agree with me. The tension between you is thicker than Pere’s hair.”

Alexia closed her eyes for a brief second. “There is no tension, Irene.”

“There is enough tension to string a tennis racket!” Irene exclaimed with an outraged lift of her shoulders, though entirely untroubled by the stare she was receiving. “You’ve spent the last six weeks passing to her only when necessary in training because every time you get within a two-metre radius of her, you look like you’ve forgotten how to play football. You have also spent almost the whole season blushing like a love-sick teenager anytime you talk to her.”

“Oh my God, no I h–”

“It’s pathetic, really.” Irene shrugged with a sigh. “You’re the captain. Fix up and fix it.”

“There is nothing to fix!” Alexia insisted, though… her words felt hollow even to her own ears.

She knew Irene was right. At least about the physical reality of it– the blushes. She really was like a teenager with a crush. 

And in training, too. Which was fucking foolish. 

It was a strange and irritating sort of paralysis that’d settled into her bones recently. On the pitch, she could read a game three steps ahead of anyone else; a trait she’d always been proud of. She knew exactly where the space would open and exactly when to release the ball. That didn’t change during actual games, which she was glad for. 

But when you ran up beside her, when your shoulder brushed hers in the midfield or when you gave her that small breathless grin after a solid transition? Her brain simply emptied out. It was a biological design flaw.

Two ballon d’ors, maybe soon to be three, and she still went weak at the knees in training when her crush smiled at her. 

So unprofessional.

“If you say so.” Irene murmured, her tone dripping with an infuriating lack of belief. She tapped her fingers against her beer bottle. “But if you don’t do something about it before pre-season, so two whole months, I’m going to actually bang your heads together. Concussion protocol date. In bed. Low-lighting, no phone distractions…”

“My god, Irene. Two kids has sunk you beyond saving.” Alexia tutted under her breath with an eye roll.

“I haven’t slept in two days, Ale. I think I can see the veins in my eyes.” 

Before Alexia could express any semblance of concern for the Basque woman, a loud burst of laughter erupted from the low stone wall.

Alexia’s eyes snapped back over her shoulder, bypassing her own rules.

Kika had her arm thrown over your shoulders now, her face bright and animated as she leaned in close to your ear, whispering something that had you throwing your head back, your laughter clear over the music. You looked slightly flushed, the tipsy looseness of the evening finally catching up to you as you leaned into Kika’s side.

Right on cue, Marta drifted past the wall, subtly dropping a fresh, cold bottle into your lap while winking at Kika. It was a seamless handoff, so quick that under normal circumstances Alexia wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

But tonight, with Irene’s words lingering in the air, Alexia’s eyes narrowed.

There was also a huddle forming. Patri and Clara had abandoned the cooking lesson and were now drifting toward you, effectively cordoning you off into a small circle of the yard. 

“They're up to something.” Alexia grumbled, her host instincts overriding her embarrassment.

Irene followed her gaze, her eyes tracking the movement of the younger players. A tiny, knowing smirk touched the corner of her lips, though she quickly hid it behind another drink.

“They're just enjoying the night, Ale.” Irene said smoothly, though she didn't sound too convincing. “You should do the same. Go talk to someone who isn't me.”

“Ale!” Patri’s voice boomed across the grass, cutting through the heavy reggaeton beat. She was holding up an empty green bottle, shaking it upside down for emphasis. “The cooler out here is empty! We are parched!”

The brunette let out a slow sigh, shooting a sideways glance at Irene. “Parched, she says. They’ve gone through four crates in two hours. Why did I host this, again?”

Before she could even take a step toward the glass double doors of her kitchen, Patri shouted again, her eyes darting over toward the stone wall with a look that was too sharp for someone who’d been allegedly huffing grill smoke and an unknown amount of beers all evening.

“Oye! Don’t go on your own, it’s heavy! You–” Patri pointed a blunt finger directly at you, your alcohol-flushed face blinking in surprise. “Go help her. Show some respect to our host.”

“I c-can manage perfectly fine–” Alexia started, her voice tight, but Kika was already giving you a gentle, completely unnecessary shove from the wall. 

“Go on, help her out.” Kika grinned, her fingers subtly tapping your hip as you stood up.

You didn’t look annoyed at all. In fact, as you steadied your footing against the grass, a warm smile broke across your face. The type of smile that only came after three and a half beers; unfiltered and lacking the careful, self-conscious guard you usually kept up around her. 

You looked straight at Alexia, your eyes slightly glassy but full of a soft, hazy affection. 

“Lead the way, our gracious host.” You said, your voice a little louder, a little looser than normal.

Alexia’s chest did a violent and uncalled-for flip. 

She swallowed hard, offering you an awkward knot of a smile in return, and grabbed the cooler before turning on her heel to hide the immediate pink flush creeping up the back of her neck.

As the glass doors slid shut behind the two of you, cutting off the bass of the music, a sudden silence descended upon the garden.

Irene didn’t move from her spot, but she didn’t have too. Within three seconds, a conspiratorial huddle had formed exactly where she stood. Marta arrived first, holding her beer like a weapon, closely followed by Vicky, Cata, and Pina, while Patri abandoned the grill entirely to jog over. On the other side of the patio, Kika immediately corralled Clara, Esmee, and Sydney to follow her over too.

The rest of the squad, the ones who hadn’t been roped into the weeks of subtle matchmaking (or just didn’t want to involve themselves), simply watched on from the outdoor sofas with varying expressions of amusement and exasperation.

“Alright, we don’t have much time.” Patri said as she wiped her brow with the back of her forearm, smelling faintly of smoke. She leaned into the center of the huddle, her eyes locked onto the kitchen window where two silhouettes were moving behind the glass. “They’re in the pantry. If Alexia takes her time to count the bottles like she usually does, we have a few minutes.”

“She will definitely count them.” Marta scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes were gleaming with mischief. “Anyway, not the problem. The problem is that they’ve been doing this awkward dance all season, these last couple months especially. I am tired of watching them exchange glances across the tables at the canteen like they’re in a culebrón.”

There was a collective noise of agreement, along with a few comments of exasperation and tutting of tongues.

“We all are.” Cata chimed in. “It’s painful. Last week, she asked Alexia to put the GPS thing in her vest, and Alexia’s face was red for the whole hour.”

Irene stood at the edge of the circle, her head tilted slightly as she kept watch. “Alexia won’t budge. She’s too stubborn, and she’s convinced she’s being professional by hiding it. If we leave it to her, next season will come around and we’ll be stuck in the exact same loop.”

Kika nodded her head towards where you stood in the window, watching Alexia.

“She’s loose tonight.” The Portuguese woman whispered with a fierce grin. “I’ve been making sure she’s never got an empty bottle.”

Vicky whistled and slapped Kika on the back in praise.

“She’s at that perfect stage where she’s relaxed enough to ramble about what’s inside her head, but she needs a push. She’s too intimidated by Alexia… when they’re looking right at each other. The second Alexia makes eye contact, her guard goes right back up.”

Irene spots that Kika looks incredibly consumed by her thoughts after that. A plan is building, she can sense it. She loves it.

“So we separate them?” Clara asked, her brow furrowing as she tried to visualise the logistics. “That’s stupid. And Patri just sent them inside together.” 

“No, tonta.” Vicky tuts, swiping her over the back of the head. That sends the two of them off into some kind of cat-fight.

“No, inside is just the warm-up.” Kika smirked. A conniving look entered her eyes as she began to piece the elements together. She glanced towards the shadow of the stone wall, then toward the corner of the house where the terrace curved out of sight toward the side garden. “We need to get her to open up without feeling like she’s on display. If she thinks anyone is watching her, or if she has to look Alexia in the eye, she’ll clam up and call it a night.”

Another cacophony of curious and considering sounds. 

Fingers tapped against chins and foots tapped against the floor in thought.

Until–

A dramatic gasp.

“Oh my god.” Kika breathed out. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes widening as a massive, borderline sinister grin broke across her face. “I know what we can do.”

Meanwhile– inside the pantry, Alexia was crouched over, her spine curved beneath the fabric of her linen shirt as she meticulously lifted bottles of beer by their necks, slotting them into the cooler. 

“One… two… three.” Counting them, of course. “Four–”

“Really, Ale?” You stood with your hands on your hips, feigning an unimpressed look just to tease her. 

She startled as if she’d forgotten you were there. 

You stood exactly two feet away, your back pressed against a shelf stacked with neatly labelled jars of spices and herbs. The three and a half beers had settled into your limbs as a pleasant warmth, stripping away the edge of the self-consciousness that usually kept you up-right and guarded around her. 

You’d just been watching her the whole time. 

And as she reached for the fifth bottle, her hand froze for a fraction of a second when she caught your unblinking gaze out of the corner of her eye. The pink flush that’d started on the patio flared right back up, colouring the tips of her ears. 

She cleared her throat, lifting a cardboard case of bottles and turning to face you. “Shush. Take this one. Do not drop it.”

As she pushed the case into your arms, your fingers brushed. Literally just the briefest sliding contact, and her breath hitched.

You caught the box against your chest, letting out a lazy chuckle that vibrated right against the cardboard. “Please, Capi, I have excellent hand-eye coordination. You know that.” 

You laughed to yourself, missing how the harmless comment sounded strangely… inappropriate to her ears. She had to clear her throat again. 

Then, you tilted your head. A teasing smile crinkled the corners of your eyes. “Unless you think my form has dropped since the season ended?”

Her eyes widened as she had her back to you, accidentally dropping one of the bottles unceremoniously into the cooler. You let out a scandalised gasp, before you tutted at her for it.

“That doesn’t even make sense.” She grumbled under her breath at your comment, making a mental note to watch how much you drank for the rest of the night. You were far too focused on the fact she’d nearly smashed all the bottles to hear it.

The brunette stood, once she was finally happy with the collection of drinks, and she turned to look at you. Only to get entirely trapped by how relaxed you were, how easily you were sliding into her space without a care in the world.

“Your form is fine,” She muttered. She tried for a stern, captain-like expression, but the severe pink tinge stretching across her cheeks completely ruined the effect. “Your discipline, however, leaves much to be desired. You’re supposed to be helping, not mocking me.”

“I am helping,” You drawled happily, shifting the weight of the box against your hip as you took a step toward the door, not without a final glance back at her face. “And I can follow instructions perfectly well when I want to, thank you.”

Alexia let out a quiet huff that was supposed to be a sigh but sounded suspiciously like a defeated, flustered laugh.

“Just walk,” She murmured, nudging the door open with her elbow. “Before they come inside and raid the kitchen.”

When the double doors opened again, the atmosphere in the garden made Alexia’s footsteps slow down.

The team looked normal. Casual.

Far. Too. Casual. 

The transition was so jarring it felt manufactured. Patri was suddenly back at the grill, leaning over the food on it with the hyper-focused expression of a surgeon mid-operation. Marta and Vicky were sitting on the edge of their pool, dangling their feet in the water and conversing with a rigid calmness, their shoulders strangely stiff. 

You, completely oblivious to the weird shift, didn’t notice a thing. The moment you stepped outside, a wide grin broke across your face. 

“Supplies have arrived!”

Cata, Pina, Patri and Kika erupted into a chorus of cheers that felt three notches too enthusiastic for a box of beers. You laughed, buoyed by the alcohol and the affection, and trotted over to dump the case onto the grass beside them, immediately getting pulled into their chaos.

Alexia, however, remained rooted to the spot. Her eyes scanned the yard, her analytical brain instantly picking up the anomalies.

She locked eyes with Irene first. The defender didn’t say a word; she just took a slow sip of her beer and shrugged one shoulder, her expression blank. Then, Alexia’s gaze flicked to Marta, who chose that exact moment to stare intently at the water rippling around her ankles, refusing to meet her eyes.

Finally, Alexia’s eyes landed on Clara. 

The younger midfielder looked like she was carrying a state secret. Her shoulders were hunched, her mouth pressed into a thin line, and she gave Alexia a sheepish look that practically screamed ‘I am hiding a secret that I am greatly excited by, please don’t ask me about it otherwise I’ll accidentally give it away.’

The captain’s jaw tightened. 

She grumbled something incoherent and slightly threatening under her breath, her fingers tightening around the handle of the cooler before she finally forced herself to walk across the garden toward the noise of the group.

With an unnecessary dramatic flair, she dumped the cooler onto the grass with a deliberate thud, hoping the sound would startle into someone giving up the game. 

No such luck.

Patri just kept aggressively poking one of the steaks to see how much it’d cooked, and Cata gave her an overly bright smile that looked rehearsed. 

Alexia kept her eyes narrowed, her gaze sweeping over the perimeter like a prison guard. Kika was standing just behind Cata, her arms crossed, watching you with an expression that was far too pleased with itself. When Kika caught Alexia looking, her grin didn’t falter. It just turned incredibly knowing.

“Alright. Everyone stop.” Alexia said firmly, stood with her hands on her hips as everyone turned to her. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” Marta repeated from the edge of the pool, her voice trailing over the grass with an air of complete innocence. “We’re just enjoying this lovely summer night celebrating the team in the beautiful garden of your mansion, Ale.”

“It’s not a mansion–”

“Why do you always assume there is a crisis?” Vicky asked with a grin that just confirmed Alexia’s fear.

“Because of the smile on your face, and because Clara looks like she’s about to hyperventilate.” Alexia countered smoothly, pointing toward the younger midfielder in question.

Clara immediately gasped, her eyes darting frantically toward the others for backup. “I’m just– the smoke! The grill smoke is getting in my eyes! I’m going to go… rinse them. In the bathroom.”

The girl practically bolted out of the garden and into the house.

“She’s fine, Ale. Leave the kid alone.” Kika chuckled, stepping forward and smoothly bypassing Alexia altogether.

The Portuguese woman’s attention pivoted to you, where you were happily letting Pina explain a complicated card game she wanted to play later whilst not understanding a thing she was saying.

Kika dropped an affectionate arm around your neck, leaning her weight into you. 

“Hey. You’re looking a little flushed, how many of those have you had?” She tapped the side of your beer bottle that you’d picked up after coming back out.

“Three and a half.” You replied proudly, before you tilted your head back at Alexia. “But Alexia likes to keep count apparently, so maybe she’s got a better idea.”

Alexia closed her eyes, praying for the ground to swallow her whole. Por favor. Her hair was going to be grey by the end of the night. 

“Right! Food’s ready!” Patri announced loudly. Saved by the bell.

“Perfect timing.” Kika beamed, not looking at Alexia as she began steering you away from the main garden area. “It’s getting a bit chaotic out here. Let’s go sit around the side garden, the view of the sunset is much better from there anyway.”

You blinked, the alcohol slowing your reaction time by half a second. Then you went willingly, thrilled by the promise of good food and a sunset, grabbing a plate from Patri as you walked by her.

Your eyes found Alexia as you walked past, giving her a soft and slightly questioning glance without really thinking about it. The brunette caught it, her heart doing another one of those terribly inconvenient flips. She wanted to tell you to stay. Pull you away from Kika’s obvious, hovering trap.

“Are you coming, Ale?” You called back over your shoulder, giving her the perfect opportunity.

“Maybe in a minute.” 

She remained rooted to the spot. Her eyes tracked you as you walked, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting decisions. 

Part of her – the part that wore the armband and took care of her home – knew she should stay right here, keeping an eye on Patri’s dangerous handling of the barbecue and ensuring the rest of the squad didn’t completely derail the night.

But the other part of her, which had been steadily gaining ground for months, just wanted to give in. For once, she wanted to drop the responsibility, walk around the corner, and enjoy your company without the barrage of overthinking that normally consumed her whenever she let her thoughts drift to you. 

She took a breath, trying to unravel the ball of hesitation in her chest. And she made a move to follow after you.

“Let them go ahead, Ale.” Marta said smoothly, materialising out of nowhere and wrapping her arm around Alexia’s shoulders. Her grip iron-like, she guided Alexia towards the opposite side of the garden. “You need to eat, soak up all that beer before you start doing sentimental speeches again.”

The midfielder rolled her eyes at the mention of the night in Oslo following the Champions League win, where she may have had a few drinks and didn’t really… let the microphone leave her sight for about half an hour.

“You all wanted me to do a speech, and then you complained when I did.” She scoffed.

Her internal alarm bells were ringing loudly as Marta led her away. The division was now fully functional. You’d been isolated by Kika, Clara, Esmee, and a few others, who were currently settling you onto a cluster of floor cushions just around the corner of her house– completely out of Alexia’s line of sight where she ended up sitting with Marta. Still close enough to hear your laughter though, which wasn’t lost on her.

Patri slammed a plate of food in front of her at the glass table, while Irene, Cata, Marta and Pina took up the remaining seats around the table. Effectively forming a human wall.

“What is this?” The captain hissed under her breath, glaring at Irene who was cutting into a piece of steak. “Why is everyone acting so fucking weird?” 

“We’re just eating, Ale.” Irene answered placidly, not even looking up. “Eat up. You’ve been really tense all day.” 

“I wonder why” Alexia muttered, her chest tightening as she heard another distinct burst of laughter from around the corner. It sounded a little higher, a little more uninhibited. Kika was definitely giving you more drinks. “Clara looked like she was going to throw up from anxiety when I walked past her.”

“Clara has a weak stomach,” Marta lied seamlessly, taking a huge bite of bread. “Don’t worry about it.”

Around the corner, hidden in the shadows of the side garden, phase two of Kika’s master plan was already in full swing.

The air was cooler over there, the light of the dusk fading into a deep, bruised violet against the horizon. You were leaning back against the masonry, your legs stretched out on the grass, feeling incredibly warm and thoroughly disconnected from any form of reality. The noise of the main party was just a background noise now.

“Drink up,” Kika whispered, clinking her own bottle against yours with a grin. She leaned in close, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone. “So… you were in that pantry for a while. Just counting bottles, or what?”

You let out a hazy, amused sigh, the alcohol making your head spin in a way that was weirdly pleasant. “She really was counting them. Literally one by one. She’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah?” Kika’s eyes gleamed as she exchanged a look with Esmee over your head. “Just ridiculous? Or do you like it when she gets all captain-like and bossy?”

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve laughed the comment off, changed the subject, or lay into Kika for suggesting such a stupid thing. Yet, with four beers humming in your system and the relief of a four-titled season, your guard was completely gone. 

You looked down at your bottle, a helpless smile tugging at your lips as you thought about the way Alexia’s ears had turned that furious shade of pink when your fingers brushed.

“She’s just…” You trailed off, your voice dropping to a quiet mutter that made Kika virtually vibrate with excitement. “She’s always so put-together and… pretty. Even when she’s stressed, she’s really pretty. It’s annoying.”

Clara let out a tiny, stifled squeak, immediately covering her mouth with both hands afterwards.

“Go on,” Kika nudged your shoulder gently as she baited the trap. “Tell us more. We won’t say a word.”

You took another slow sip, the cold liquid taking the edge off the sudden heat in your face. The violet dusk was deepening around the corner of the house, and with every passing minute, the boundaries you usually kept so firmly in place during the season felt farther and farther away.

“It’s just…” You started, waving your bottle in the air as you searched for the words. “She never drops the act. She walks around like she’s completely untouchable, like nothing can faze her. And then she looks at me, and I swear she’s trying to read my mind or pick apart whatever I’m doing. It throws me off completely.”

Kika leaned in further. “Throws you off bad? Or throws you off good?” 

“It’s just infuriating,” You sighed, though the massive, helpless smile on your face completely ruined the defense. You leaned your head back against the cool stone wall, looking up at the first few stars blinking into view through the deep purple sky. “Because she’ll do that quiet, serious routine, and then the second I actually step into her space, or—or brush against her like in the pantry? She just freezes. She blushes. It’s like this tiny crack in her armour where she's a completely different person for two seconds, and it makes me want to…” 

You trailed off, the realization of what you were actually about to say finally catching up to your beer-soaked brain.

Your mouth snapped shut. Your eyes widened slightly as you looked at the three girls sitting around you. Sydney was leaning forward so far she was practically falling off her cushion, while Esmee looked like she was witnessing history being made in real-time. Clara was still holding her breath, her hands glued tightly over her face.

“Want to what?” Kika prompted, evidently hanging onto your every word and desperate for you to continue.

“Nothing!” You said quickly, cheeks burning a flaming red. You took a hasty gulp of your beer to cover the slip. “Nothing. I’m drunk. Forget I said that.”

You were talking to possibly the worst people on the team for gossip. Oh fuck.

“Oh, no, we are not forgeting that.” Kika grinned. She knew she had you right on the edge. If she pushed you too hard now, your defenses would go back up. Luckily for you, she had the perfect next move. “In fact, I think you need a safe space to properly vent about this.”

Meanwhile, back at the table, Alexia was staring blankly at her plate as her fork pushed around a piece of asparagus. 

The human wall around her was proving to be a lost cause; her ears were hyper-tuned to whatever was occurring around the corner. The murmurs had quieted down, and she hadn’t heard your voice in almost three minutes. 

“Ale.” Irene’s voice cut through her thoughts.

Alexia blinked, looking up. Irene hadn’t stopped eating but her eyes were fixed on the captain. 

“If you chew through your lower lip, you won’t be able to talk tomorrow.” Irene told her. “Relax, girl. They aren’t going to kidnap her.”

“They are definitely doing something.” Alexia whispered fiercely so that Patri wouldn’t hear. “I know Kika. She had that look in her eyes. The up-to-no-good look. She’s plotting.”

“Then let her plot.” Caro chimed in smoothly from her left. “Maybe she will do the heavy lifting for you. God knows you’ve had all the time in the world and haven’t made a single move.”

Alexia opened her mouth to deliver a thoroughly scathing response, but before she could speak, a small figure came shuffling around the stone corner.

It was Clara. The younger midfielder walked with her hands jammed deep into her pockets, her head down, completely refusing to make eye contact with anyone at the main table as she headed straight for the kitchen doors.

Alexia’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Clara.”

The girl froze, her shoulders snapping up to her ears. She slowly turned her head, giving Alexia a terrified, trembling smile. “Yes, Capi?”

“Where is she?” Alexia asked, her voice dropping into that commanding register which brooked absolutely no arguments.

“She’s… around the corner,” Clara stammered, her voice squeaking slightly on the last word. “With Kika. They’re just talking. And I’m just going to get water.”

She practically threw herself through the sliding glass doors, leaving them to bounce shut behind her.

Alexia stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the stone tiles of the patio.

“Alexia, sit down,” Patri groaned. “The meat is getting cold.”

“I’m the host,” Alexia muttered, her jaw set in a line that Irene knew meant there was no stopping her. She smoothed down the front of her linen shirt, her heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against her ribs. “I am going to check on my guests.”

She didn’t even make it past the edge of the table before Patri was up and out of her chair.

“Sit down, Ale.” Patri commanded. “You’ve been hovering over everything like a helicopter parent since we all got here. I’ll go inside and make sure Clara isn’t having an anxiety attack.”

Alexia opened her mouth to argue as her eyes darted toward the stone corner of the house, but a warning look from Irene pinned her to the spot. With a frustrated click of her tongue, the captain begrudgingly sank back into her chair.

Patri darted inside and intercepted a frantic-looking Clara right as she was about to go back outside. 

“How’s it going?” The older midfielder asked in a hushed tone, grabbing Clara by the shoulder.

“She’s basically gone already,” Clara answered, her eyes wide as she gripped a glass of water. “She’s so tipsy she’s practically floating. She just confessed to Kika that she thinks Alexia is beautiful when she’s stressed! Kika is setting her up right now– we need you.”

Patri’s face split into a slow smirk. “Perfect. I’ll go to them, you go to Ale.”

Around the now infamous corner, entirely unaware of the tactics and the planning that was occurring, you were staring at Kika with a look of profound skepticism.

“This is the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life.” You groaned, voice slurring just a fraction. “You are literally insane.”

“It’s not insane! It’s… therapeutic.” Kika argued back smoothly, sitting cross-legged on her cushion and looking extraordinarily proud of herself. “You’re completely bottled up! You’ve been carrying it around almost all season. Whereas tonight, you are actually relaxed enough to talk about it.”

“So your grand solution is a fake confessional?” You deadpanned with a breathless laugh. “You seriously think sitting me and Patri around the corner of a wall from each other as I ramble is going to help me get over my crush on Alexia?”

Kika didn’t even flinch. She shrugged and threw her hands out. “Duh! Yeah! It’s all psychological. You don’t have to look at her, she can just listen and give you typical-Patri advice, and you get it out of your system. Win-win.” 

You closed your eyes, taking a moment to actually think through the fog in your brain. 

The four beers were making the ridiculous proposal sound strangely, terrifyingly logical. If you just confessed to Patri – who was too loud and dense to ever overthink it anyway – maybe the weight of it would finally stop pressing down on your chest every time you saw Alexia walk into the locker room.

You let out a long, defeated sigh, your shoulders slumping into the cushions. “Fine. Fine, whatever. Let's just do it.”

Kika bit her lower lip, desperately trying to suppress the victorious shriek that was threatening to burst out of her throat. She cleared her throat quickly, leaning closer to run you through the logistics.

“Okay, okay. Ground rules,” Kika whispered fiercely, her eyes scanning the shadows. “Patri doesn't know, obviously. Because you haven't told her.”

(Technically true, you hadn’t told her yourself. You had told Caro in a moment of weakness, who told Marta, who both told Irene, who then told Patri. And it had spread like a wildfire from there.)

“Don’t say Alexia’s name. Don’t say anything about training or the team– or just anything to do with football.” Kika continued, tapping your knee for emphasis. “Just refer to her as this girl you like. If you give it away, it'll make things a bit awkward, and the whole thing is ruined. Got it?”

You blinked your heavy eyes, processing the instructions with a slow nod. When put that way…

“Okay.” You said with a shrug. A hazy smile returned to your face as you looked back at Kika. “Okay, yeah. It’s actually a pretty good idea. Let’s do it.”

“Excellent.” Kika drawled, basically bouncing on her heels as she scrambled up from her floor cushion. “Take a pillow, go get comfy by the wall. I’ll go fetch our priest!”

You did as you were told, chuckling under your breath at the thought of anyone calling Patri a priest.

You got comfy, legs outstretched with one foot over the other, hands linked together and resting in your lap. There was some commotion you overheard, but honestly, you felt like you were floating in a very comfortable and slightly dizzying bubble.

End of season celebrations really were fun. 

“Alright, Patri’s ready,” Kika whispered as she crouched in front of you. “I’m going to leave you two to it. Remember the rules.”

Then, her footsteps faded away. You shifted a little, pressing your spine firmly against the rough stone brick wall. Around the corner, you could hear someone shuffling around.

“Patri?” You called out.

“Yeah, tía, I’m here.” Patri’s voice boomed back, muffled a little by the wall, but definitely her. Perhaps if you weren’t so far gone, you would have noticed how uncharacteristically subdued she was. “Go ahead. Kika said you needed to get some things off your chest.”

You let out a long, ragged breath, staring down at the grass between your knees. “It’s just… I’m so tired of feeling like this. I’ve spent months pretending I don’t completely lose my mind every time she walks into a room. And it’s exhausting, Patri. It really is.”

There was a brief pause from the other side of the wall. “Right. And… what exactly does she do that loses you your mind?”

“Everything,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands with an embarrassed laugh. “The way she carries herself. She’s just so incredibly composed, you know? Like nothing in the world could ever rattle her. She has this quiet authority that completely takes over the room, and whenever she actually focuses on me, I feel like I forget how to breathe.”

Around the corner, Patri’s eyes were wide as saucers. She was gripping the edge of the stone masonry, her chest heaving as she swallowed down a massive laugh. This was gold. This was worth every single Euro she’d bet against Marta earlier in the week.

“But the worst part,” you continued, your voice dropping into a quiet, almost melancholic murmur, “is when she drops it. Just for a second. Like earlier tonight, we were… well, we were somewhere quiet, and our fingers accidentally brushed. And she just froze. She turned this beautiful, furious shade of pink right to the tips of her ears. It’s like there’s this whole other side to her, this incredibly soft, flustered side that she tries so hard to hide. And it makes me want to just… pull her out of her own head and kiss her until she completely forgets to be serious.”

Patri went completely rigid. Madre mía. She had expected some light pining, maybe a bit of standard venting, but this? Uff. It made her more giddy than the quadruple they’d won.

“Wow.” Patri cleared her throat. She needed Alexia here. Right now. “That’s heavy, tía. I get why you needed to get this off your chest. Go ahead.”

Alexia, still back at the main table, was oscillating with irritation. 

Marta was in the middle of an elaborate and definitely fabricated story about a dog that’d breached her apartment complex and ran rings around the security for hours, while Irene was nodding along with an expression of feigned interest. 

“And then,” Marta waved her fork in the air, leaning across the table. “The dog stopped outside our door and sat there, looking straight into my soul. I think it was a sign.” 

“Marta, I don’t care about the dog.” Alexia snapped, her patience completely evaporated. “I swear, I will–”

And it was that precise moment where Kika came jogging over, cutting Alexia’s threat off before she could finish it. She did not look casual. She bypassed the rest of the table and grabbed Alexia by the table, hauling her out of her chair.

“Kitchen, now.” Kika demanded.

The captain’s mind went into overdrive. “What happened? Is she– is everyone okay?”

“Just move!” The Portuguese grunted, dragging her through the glass doors.

The second they clicked shut, cutting off the outdoor noise, Kika spun Alexia around and her hands clamped down on her captain’s shoulders with a terrifying level of intensity. 

“Listen to me carefully.” Kika whispered. “You are going to go around the corner right now. You are going to sit in Patri’s place, and you are not going to say a single word. You are just going to listen.” 

Alexia’s brow furrowed, a defensive look entering her eyes. “What are you talking about? What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Kika hissed, shaking her slightly. “In fact I have done you a favour, alright? She is currently pouring her heart out to Patri, Ale. And if you don’t go over there and take her place right now, I will post the videos of you dancing after Oslo and not delete them.”

Alexia froze comically. Wide eyes as her heart skipped a beat, and all. Her jaw slackened slightly as the piece shifted in her mind, the realisation hitting her a few moments later.

“She’s… what?” Alexia breathed out.

“Go,” Kika demanded, giving her a shove towards the side door that led to the patio curve. “And for the love of God, Ale, don’t mess this up. I have a hundred euros riding on you taking the shot tonight.” 

The brunette didn’t even have time to process the threat before Kika was fully pushing her through the side door. The second her feet hit the cooler outdoor pavement, she was completely ambushed. 

A solid, tanned arm clamped around her chest as Marta appeared beside her, while Irene smoothly blocked any path of retreat. And before Alexia could even inhale to demand what they were doing, Vicky’s palm slapped firmly over her mouth, clamping her lips shut. 

Together, they muscled Alexia down the small stretch of pavement like a high-value asset under guard. Alexia wasn’t even fighting them; her legs were moving on instinct, her wide eyes fixed ahead as her brain tried to process everything Kika had just told her.

Around the stone corner, you were still leaning your head back against the brickwork. The dizzying buzz of alcohol had completely isolated you from the quiet rustling of footsteps the the brief scuffle just a few feet away.

Patri, seeing the cavalry arrived, executed a flawless retreat from her floor cushion and away from the wall, giving the rest of the group an enthusiastic thumbs up. Vicky shoved Alexia down onto the vacant cushion, Alexia hardly on the ground before she was ripping the hand away from her face.

She whipped her head around, baring her teeth in a silent, lethal glare at Vicky, and opened her mouth to aggressively whisper a lecture and a demand for them all to leave.

But before the first syllable could leave her tongue, your voice drifted from around the masonry.

“And I know it’s stupid, Patri.” You murmured, a self-deprecating sight hitching in your chest. “Like, I know I shouldn’t even be thinking about it. But then Alexia smiles at me after a tough session, or she does that little thing where she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s listening to me speak, and I just… I completely lose it.”

Alexia went utterly still.

The reprimand died in her throat. Her hand, which had been raised to shove Vicky away, froze in mid-air before slowly dropping back down to her lap. Her chest swelled, her heart hammering so hard against her ribs she was certain you would hear it.

Alexia. You’d said her name.

To the right of her, hidden away from your eye line, various members of the team who were clearly in on this huddled together. The smug, triumphant smirks they’d been wearing all night had softened, replaced by a captive silence as they watched two of their teammates finally, at least approach, a bridge they’d been too scared of. 

“I can’t tell her,” you continued, your tone dropping to one that sounded agonizingly vulnerable in the cool night air. You tilted your head back against the brick, staring up at the dark sky. “How am I supposed to look her in the eye and say any of this? She’s Alexia. She is a woman who needs everything to be in its exact place, who handles the weight of the world by closing herself off and locking things down. And I am just… me. I'm not organised, I'm spontaneous, and I handle pressure by trying to find something to laugh about.”

Alexia’s breath hitched. She sat perfectly rigid on the cushion, her eyes fixed on the rough stone wall separating the two of you, hanging onto every word.

“We just speak completely different languages,” You let out a bitter chuckle, tracing a pattern on the fabric of your shorts. “When she gets stressed or guarded, she builds up these massive walls to protect her peace. And because I’m naturally wide open, I always feel like I’m misreading the room around her. I don't know how to navigate those walls without feeling like I'm breaking something, or just being an annoyance to her carefully balanced life. If I say something, I’m just going to complicate things for her. She already carries so much for the team, Patri. She doesn’t need me messing with her peace.”

Every word felt like a physical weight pressing directly into Alexia’s chest. It wasn't awe or intimidation keeping you back; it was a deeply rooted fear that your core personalities would clash, that your natural brightness would only disrupt the careful structure she worked so hard to maintain.

Alexia could read between the lines. You were terrified that you weren’t good enough for her. Wouldn’t fit into her life. And that she wouldn’t like you back.

Beside Alexia, Kika bit her lip as a wave of sympathy hit her at how small you looked on the cushion, weighed down by an overthinking tipsy brain. She shot a sharp look at the side of Alexia;s head, silently urging her to fix this.

The captain didn’t move, but her fingers slowly curled into the bottom of her shirt, her jaw tightening as she listened to the raw, unfiltered truth. You thought she wanted to be left alone behind those walls. You believed she didn’t want you there.

“She definitely doesn’t need me.” You whispered to yourself, before falling silent.

How wrong you were.

Everything seemed to catch up with you, then.

Having all those buried thoughts dragged out into the open air left a raw, aching pain in your chest. The fuzzy warmth of the beer suddenly turned cold, and the burden of your own overthinking pushed a stinging dampness to your eyes.

Before the silence could stretch too long, you abruptly scrambled up from your cushion. Your knees shook slightly from the combination of the drinks and the rush of adrenaline, and with a tight swallow, you quickly wiped a stray tear from your cheek with the back of your hand. Desperate to just be alone with your thoughts, you stormed off toward the far edge of the garden, heading straight for the large outdoor sofa tucked away from the main lights.

Alexia remained stuck in her seat, in disbelief at what’d occurred, her ears straining as the sound of your hurried footsteps faded into the distance. The sudden emptiness in your voice before you left echoed in her mind, leaving her stunned.

Slowly, the captain tilted her head, her dazed glance rising until she met Irene’s eyes.

The Basque woman was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, looking down at Alexia with a definitive told-you-so expression. There was no smugness in her face, a just the satisfaction of someone who had spent months listening to Alexia stubbornly insist that she was completely misreading your signals. 

Irene had heard all about Alexia’s agonisingly deep feelings for you, and after catching snippets from Patri about how much you were pining from afar, she’d tried – repeatedly – to tell her captain to just open her eyes.

Alexia simply stared up at her, jaw slack, the certainty she usually carried now shattered by the reality of what she’d just heard.

Clara was the only one who broke away from the huddle to follow you. Mostly to get away from Alexia’s surefire scathing lecture, but also because she genuinely cared about you as a teammate and someone who spent a lot of time mentoring her too, like Alexia. 

And as expected, Alexia scrambled up from the floor, her posture rigid and her eyes wide as she turned on Kika, Patri, and the others.

“What the hell is wrong with you all?!” She seethed in a furious whisper that she tried to keep from carrying across the yard. “Are you insane? All of you? To trick her like that, force her into saying things when she’s– when she’s had too much to drink? It is completely out of order!”

“Oh please, Ale.” Kika scoffed, unfazed as she crossed her arms. “We didn’t force her to say anything. We just… gave her a wall.”

“It's a violation of her privacy!” Alexia defended hotly, her chest heaving underneath her linen shirt as she gestured wildly toward the empty corner. “She thought she was speaking to a friend in confidence! If she finds out you all orchestrated this, she will be devastated. You cannot just play with people’s feelings for the sake of your stupid bets!”

“Ale,” Patri cut in with a lazy, amused grin spreading across her face. “It’s very hard to take your captain’s lecture seriously when your ears are currently the colour of a ripe tomato.”

A collective, poorly suppressed titter broke out among the rest of the group. Marta had to shield her face behind Irene’s shoulder to hide her grin, while Vicky openly chuckled. The commanding authority Alexia usually radiated was completely cancelled out by the blush spreading all the way down her neck. She looked less like a quadruple-winning captain and more like an incredibly flustered teenager who had just been caught reading a diary out loud.

“Go take some time to collect your thoughts and calm down, Ale.” Irene placated with a dismissive wave. “You’ve lost the locker room on this one.”

Realising she was fighting a losing battle against a squad that knew her far too well, Alexia let out a sharp breath, before turning and beelining for her house. She deliberately avoided looking at the side garden where the sofa was hidden, and marched straight inside to get away from everyone. 

Once inside, she stopped in the kitchen and took a deep inhale. 

This was not the night she had envisioned. 

So far, it’d left her feeling nothing but stressed, antsy, slightly irate. 

As a result, her hands immediately went to work out of pure habit. She couldn’t just sit still with her brain firing at a million miles an hour. She stood at the kitchen island, her movements precise as she began wiping down surfaces that were already clean, determined to begin winding the party down for the night.

And she stayed there for a while; loading a few stray plates into the dishwasher, organising the remaining catering trays with an aggressive level of focus. Disposing of many, many bottles of beer and numerous paper plates, she couldn’t help but think of you outside. 

But she stayed in the kitchen for a long time regardless of you. She didn’t want to cause you any more torment by heading outside to see you when it was her you were upset about.

Nearly forty minutes passed before she finally dropped the dish towel. Most of the team had headed inside by now, away from the darkness and cooler air of the night. They’d taken over her living, though in a much calmer manner, so she didn’t feel the need to supervise. 

She took a steadying breath, before deciding to do one final sweep of the garden to bring in any bottles or plates or food before locking the door for the night.

Sliding the glass door open quietly, she stepped out outside to her empty garden. 

Almost empty.

Because she then heard your shaky voice drifting through the air again. Her eyes scanned the side garden, and there she found you.

Under the dim glow of a single wall lamp, sat Clara. The younger midfielder looked completely trapped. Her legs were pulled up to her chest on the cushions, eyes wide with a look of sheer deer-in-the-headlights terror as she tried her absolute best to be a good friend.

And right next to her, curled up into an emotional ball, you were still thoroughly caught up in your tearful ramble, oblivious to the fact everyone else had headed inside to wind down for the evening.

The captain didn’t mean to eavesdrop (again), but the vulnerability in your tone anchored her feet to the floor.

“-it’s just the way she looks at me, Clara.” You sighed into your knees. “Maybe I’m imagining it, but sometimes it seems like she’s trying so hard to keep her distance, but then she’ll do something really sweet and I can’t ever get it off my mind. Because I know she has a million things on her mind. She’s running the whole show, looking after everyone, and still finds time to do these little things for me.”

Clara gave a stiff nod, eyes wide as if praying for some kind of saviour.

“Meanwhile I’m just over here trying not to trip over my own two feet when she comes near me.” You ran a hand through your hair, letting out a watery laugh that pierced right through Alexia’s chest. “I’m just a mess compared to her. It’ll never work. She’d just think I’m… some annoying distraction.”

Any lingering doubt, any tiny stubborn part of Alexia that was trying to protect herself from misinterpreting the situation, completely vanished. 

And it was that exact moment that Clara’s panicked gaze flicked toward the house and locked right onto Alexia standing in the doorway. 

Somehow, the girl’s eyes widened impossibly more. She looked like she’d just seen a ghost. For a second, it looked like she might actually faint from the overwhelming weight of the drama that’d unfolded.

Sensing her cue, Clara clumsily scrambled to her feet.

“Right!” Clara blurted out, her voice a little too loud and high-pitched in the quiet garden. You blinked up at her, startled by the sudden movement. “You– you know what? You need water. A very large, cold glass of water. I’ll go get some for you. Don’t move!”

Before you could even formulate a question to ask why she was being so weird, Clara practically sprinted away, past Alexia and disappearing into the safety of the house without looking back. She closed the door behind her with a click, leaving the garden silent.

You blinked into the shadows, a bit dazed by the abrupt departure, before your eyes slowly tracked the movement by the doorway.

Alexia was standing there. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her trousers, her shoulders dropped, and she was looking at you with an expression so soft that the breath caught in your throat.

She stepped fully out of the doorway, the soft scuff of her shoes against the tiles breaking the silence. She walked over slowly, deliberately giving you time to adjust to her presence so she wouldn’t startle you again.

You didn't scramble to hide your face or panic. Instead, you just tilted your head back against the sofa cushions, looking up at her through a heavy, calm, and deeply tired haze. A half-hearted smile of acknowledgment tugged at the corners of your mouth. The sharp edge of your earlier distress had melted into a quiet exhaustion; the alcohol was still humming in your system, but it had left you feeling grounded, heavy-limbed, and thoroughly spent.

“Hey,” You murmured, your voice a little raspy from crying.

“Hi,” Alexia replied softly.

She didn't hesitate. She crossed the small gap and sank down onto the outdoor sofa beside you, leaving just enough space between your shoulders so you wouldn't feel crowded, though the warmth of her presence instantly filled the cool night air. She leaned back, mirroring your relaxed posture, and looked at you sideways.

“What's up?” She asked gently, keeping her tone light and casual.

You let out a tiny, breathy sigh, your eyes dropping down to your lap where your fingers were loosely intertwined. 

Despite the beers stripping away your filter, a sudden wave of self-conscious embarrassment kept you guarded. You were mortified by the scene you’d made earlier, thoroughly convinced you'd made a fool of yourself in front of Kika and Patri, even if you still had no idea Alexia had heard a single word of your confession.

“Nothing.” You answered, a little secretive, your shoulders shrugging slightly. “Just... overthinking. The usual.”

“What about?" Alexia pressed in a polite, pressure-free manner.

You just shrugged again, a disheartened frown crossing your features. “Just stupid stuff. Doesn't matter.”

Alexia watched you for a long beat, her chest tightening with an immense, overwhelming fondness. 

“Matters to me.” She stated quietly. 

The comment made your heart ache, but you remained quiet.

The vulnerability you had just displayed to Clara – the worries that you were too different, too loud, or too much of a disruption to her life – swirled in her head. She wanted to tell you right then and there how wrong you were, but she knew your tipsy, fragile pride couldn't handle the shock of finding out she’d been eavesdropping.

And there was always the chance you would forget it in the morning; if she was going to find the confidence to do it, she at least wanted you to remember it.

Didn’t mean she wasn’t going to take a chance, though.

Instead, a knowing smile took over her mouth. She shifted slightly on the cushion, reaching out and gently nudging the side of your knee with the back of her hand. The contact was brief, but it sent a warm jolt throughout your body.

“You know,” Alexia said, her eyes locked onto yours. “Sometimes people build up walls because… not because they want to keep everyone out, or anything. Definitely not because their lives are too perfect.”

You let out a barely there, amused breath, not looking at her.

“Sometimes they do it because they’re just trying to figure things out. And they might just be waiting for someone brave enough to ignore the structure, make a stupid joke, and break through it.”

You blinked, her words slicing through the foggy, disheartened thoughts in your brain. You turned your head and met her gaze.

The sincerity in her dark eyes was staggering. It wasn’t the look of a captain evaluating a teammate; it was personal, warm, intimate.

“Sound familiar?” Alexia wondered with a smile you recognised as too-proud, even if you hadn’t fully caught the meaning of her words. 

A shy, proper smile slowly bloomed across your face. The knot in your chest loosened at the reassurance you didn’t even realise she was giving you, and you gave her a nod.

Her grin widened at the sight and her body flooded with relief as she watched your sadness melt away.

“Anyway,” She hummed, tone shifting back to something a bit more playful as she nudged your knee one more time. “The point is, you shouldn’t overthink things so much. It’s bad for you.”

You let out a tired chuckle, shaking your head against the cushion. “I can’t promise that, Ale. It’s what I’m best at.”

Alexia lifted her hand from her lap, curling her fingers inward until only her smallest finger was extended. She held it up between the two of you, right in your line of sight. 

“Well,” She said, her expression perfectly serious though her eyes were dancing with mischief. “You’re going to have to promise.”

You stared at her hand, then up at her face, and a light burst of laughter escaped your lips. The absurdity of the two time Ballon d’Or winner and stern Barcelona captain demanding a pinky promise was too much for your tipsy brain to handle.

“Are you serious right now?” You teased with a bright smile, brighter than one you’ve had in hours. “A pink promise? What are you, twelve?” 

“It’s a legally binding contract without pen and paper.” Alexia insisted, her grin turning borderline wicked as she shook her extended pinky closer to you. “Come on. Secure the deal.”

You rolled your eyes, but the helpless smile never left your face. You raised your own hand and looped your pinky finger tightly around hers. 

The moment your skin met, the teasing banter ebbed away for the time being. Neither of you pulled away. You held absolute, unbroken eye contact in the dark light of the garden, the tiny physical connection keeping you both still.

Alexia’s smile turned into something tender. You swore you saw her gaze drop to your lips for a split second, before they rose back to your eyes.

The click of the glass doors cut through the silence, making you both break eye contact.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Pina called out, stepping into the garden with her jacket over her shoulder. Behind her, Cata and Vicky were peering over her shoulders, their faces split into identical delighted smirks as their eyes darted down to your linked hands.

“We’re just heading out now, we can see ourselves to the door.” Vicky chimed in with a wicked grin, nudging Pina with her elbow. “We just wanted to say goodbye. We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Yeah, you stay there, Ale, don’t stress yourself,” Cata added, holding up a hand before she gave you both an exaggerated wink. “See you guys soon!”

Alexia slowly unlooped her pinky from yours, though her fingers lingered against your skin for a fraction of a second before she settled back against the cushions. “Text me when you get home!”

You quickly offered a sheepish, slightly flushed wave with your free hand as the trio backed through the door, closing it behind them,

The second it shut, the reality of the late hour and the amount of alcohol in your system hit you at once. You let out a long, pathetic groan, and slapped a hand over your eyes.

“Oh god,” You said, your voice muffled against your palm. “I just remembered… I drove here.”

Alexia let out a soft, amused chuckle from beside you. “Did you?”

“Yes!” You whined, peeking out from behind your fingers with a frown. “I didn’t know there would be so much beer and chaos and… whatever the hell Kika was up to. Now I'm stuck. I can’t get home.”

Alexia watched you, her expression melting into something a little shy. She cleared her throat, her fingers tracing the seams of her trousers as she looked at you.

“Actually,” She offered quietly, a tentative smile playing on her lips. “You can stay here tonight if you want. All of the spare rooms are made up.”

A spike of heat hit your cheeks, completely bypassing the beer buzz. Your mouth went a little dry, your brain immediately going into hyper-drive at the thought of sleeping under her roof.

“Oh—no, no, I couldn't” You stammered quickly, waving your hands in a polite, panicked refusal. “I can just call a taxi. It’s fine, really! I don't want to be a bother or invade your space after you’ve been hosting all day. I'll just get an Uber.”

“It's nearly one in the morning, you won't find a taxi easily out here,” Alexia pointed out smoothly, her tone turning a fraction more firm as she leaned in slightly, refusing to let you brush her off. “And you're not a bother. I'm literally offering.”

“But–”

“No buts,” She interrupted gently, her eyes full of a warm, teasing authority that you had no strength to fight. “You made a legally binding promise not to overthink things, remember? The spare room is yours. Unless you'd prefer to sleep out here on the terrace?”

You stared at her for a moment, totally defeated by her logic and the sheer kindness in her eyes. Letting out one final, dramatic sigh, you let your head drop back onto the sofa cushion.

“Fine. I’ll stay.” You murmured, that same helpless and bashful smile returning to your face. You gazed at her, your stomach doing that weird fluttery thing it often did whenever she went out of her way to do something for you. “Thank you, Ale. Really.” 

“Don’t mention it.” She replied, her shoulders dropping as she relaxed back into the cushions. She gave you a gentle, assessing look, her eyes scanning your tired face. “Besides, you look exhausted. It’s been a long day, and you need some rest.”

You let out a quiet hum, closing your eyes for a brief second as the weight of the alcohol and the emotional rollercoaster of the night fully settled into your bones. “Yeah. You’re right. My brain feels like mush.”

“Well, luckily for you, I happen to have an excellent solution for that,” Alexia said, a sudden, playful spark returning to her voice. She leaned in a little closer, gesturing back toward the dark house with a perfectly serious expression. “The mattresses in my house? Unbelievable. They’re the best things I’ve ever bought.”

You opened your eyes and stared at her, a breathless laugh escaping you at the absolute ridiculousness of the pitch. “Are you trying to sell me a bed right now?”

“I’m just trying to make you overthink your decision a little less. You won’t regret it when you lay on one,” She grinned, finally standing up from the sofa and extending a hand down to you. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you fall asleep out here.”

You took her hand, letting her easily haul you to your feet. Your legs were a bit heavy and unsteady, but Alexia kept a steadying grip on your arm until you found your balance, guiding you gently through the glass doors and into the quiet, pristine interior of her house.

The main rooms were completely dark now, the rest of the team having finally headed out. Alexia led you up the stairs, the soft ambient lighting illuminating the hallway as she guided you toward one of the guest rooms near the end of the hall.

She pushed the door open, revealing a beautifully neat, cozy space that already felt incredibly welcoming.

“Make yourself at home,” Alexia murmured, stepping inside to turn on a bedside lamp before turning to face you. She took a quick look at your clothes and snapped her fingers softly. “Wait, you need something to sleep in. Hold on.”

She disappeared down the hall toward her own bedroom, leaving you standing awkwardly by the edge of the bed, your heart doing a nervous little dance. A minute later, she returned with a neatly folded pile of clothes in her hands.

“Here,” she said, handing them over. It was an oversized, incredibly soft grey cotton t-shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts. “They might be a little big, but they’re comfortable. Oh, and here.” She reached into her pocket and produced a brand-new, packaged toothbrush. “There’s an en-suite bathroom right through that door. Fresh towels are under the sink in case you want to shower at any point.”

You took the items, your fingers brushing against hers again, sending a familiar warmth rushing up your arms like it had done earlier in the pantry. “Ale, seriously, thank you. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I told you, it’s fine,” She replied, her voice dropping into that quiet, intimate register again. She stepped back toward the doorway, her hands finding the pockets of her trousers as she looked at you under the warm glow of the lamp. She looked suddenly a little shy herself, her eyes lingering on your face. “Sleep well, okay?”

“You too,” you smiled, a bashful warmth settling in your chest. “Goodnight, Ale.”

“Goodnight.”

The brunette gave you one last smile before slowly stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind her. You sat on the edge of the bed with a long sigh, a hopeless smile breaking across your face. Then you pressed your palm into the bed, almost groaning in delight at how it was a perfect mixture of density and softness.

On the other side of the door, Alexia hadn’t moved far. 

She stood perfectly still in the dimly lit hallway, her hand still hovering near the doorframe. Her stomach fluttered as she took a deep, shaky breath.

The echo of your voice from earlier tonight, confessing how much you liked her and how deeply you cared and how terrified you were of messing up her peace, it all made her heart ache with an intoxicating happiness. 

She leaned her head back to the ceiling, a near-silent stunned laugh escaping her lips in the darkness. You were right there, would be sleeping just a few feet away in her house, and it made her feel weightless. 

Eventually, with a lingering glance at your door, she turned and walked down the hall to her own room, a smile fixed on her face the entire way.

—

The morning sun was already streaming through the gap in her blackout curtains when Alexia opened her eyes, feeling mostly rested despite the chaotic emotional rollercoaster of the previous night. 

She lay in bed for a while. Her brain replayed almost the entire night through, from when people arrived to leading you upstairs to the spare room once everybody had left. The corner of her lips quirked upwards at a few things, and she looked down at her hand where it rested atop the sheets, the one that’d linked with yours in a gesture that was much more than just sealing a promise. 

It was past 10AM, and she hadn’t heard any movement from the end of the hall, where you’d stayed. 

So she sat up against the headboard with a yawn and a stretch, before she leaned over to the bedside table and grabbed her phone.

(Alexia) Morning :) are you awake yet?

She dropped her phone onto the bed beside her and rubbed her eyes, waiting as three dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared a few minutes later.

(You) Hi. Yeah. Morning. My head hurts just ever so slightly.

Alexia chuckled to herself, already moving to get up out of bed. 

She padded downstairs and went to the kitchen, moving to open the cabinet where she kept all things health related. Before she could grab what she was after, her phone vibrated in her pocket again.

(You)  I’m also incredibly embarrassed by everything that happened yesterday, so please don’t look at me

The midfielder burst into a quiet laugh, her cheeks aching at how endearing you were being. She locked her phone, filled a tall glass with cold water, and grabbed a pack of painkillers. 

Once she’d made it up the stairs, she stopped outside the guest room door and knocked quietly, the rap of her knuckles echoing in the hallway.

Silence.

No movement and no answer.

Amused, Alexia leaned her shoulder against the doorframe, a knowing smirk on her lips.

“I know you’re awake,” She called out, her voice loud enough to cut through the wood but keeping its gentle, teasing warmth. “We literally texted two minutes ago.”

There was another period of silence from inside the room before a muffled and incredibly meek voice finally drifted through the door. “Come in.”

Alexia turned the handle and pushed the door open, stepping into the sunlit room. Her eyes immediately found the bed, and a soft adoring smile took over her face at the sight.

You were curled up tightly on your side, practically swallowed by the sheets. You had apparently raided the clean pile of laundry sitting on the chair in the corner she’d been yet to sort, because you were now drowning in a thick grey hoodie that belonged to her, despite it being Summer. 

You’d pulled the hood over your head, leaving only the tip of your nose and your tightly shut eyes visible to the world. 

“Good morning,” Alexia said softly as she walked into the room. She kept her steps quiet, setting the tall glass of water down on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the mattress beside you.

You emerged from the sheets, letting out a tiny embarrassed whine as you slowly sat up. You reluctantly pulled the hood back off your head, allowing Alexia to look at you properly. She had to blink herself out of her trance as she grabbed the sheet of tablets from her pocket.

“Here,” she murmured, popping two of the tablets into your palm and handing you the water. “Take these.”

You swallowed the pills, chasing them with a long sip of the cold water, throat parched from the night before. As you set the glass back down, you finally risked a glance up at her.

Alexia was simply sitting there, watching you with an unhurried and awfully tender gaze. There was no judgement in her eyes, no teasing smirk, just an attentive focus that made your stomach do a stupid flip.

Under the weight of her undivided attention, you felt a burning blush creep rapidly up your neck, painting your cheeks a crimson that gave away how flustered you were.

Alexia definitely noticed, you could tell by the tiny increase in her smile, but she chose not to comment on it.

“How are you feeling? Aside from the headache?”

“I’ve been better and I’ve been worse.” You answered in a mutter, sleep still evident in your voice as you pulled your knees closer to your chest.

Alexia let out a soft, amused huff. “Well, that’s a start. It was a hectic night.”

“You can say that again.” You grumbled, resting your chin on your knees and staring down at the rumpled sheets. “I can’t believe it was that chaotic. I’m never going to hear the end of it all.”

The brunette watched you, her expression shifting, turning just a bit shy as she cleared her throat and her fingers traced light patterns on the duvet.

“So… how much of it do you remember?” She asked, eyes locking onto yours with a poorly disguised intense curiosity. 

A fresh wave of heat hit your cheeks, but you managed a small self-deprecating smile. “God, Ale, I wasn’t that drunk. I remember it. All of it.”

Her smile widened, a spark of satisfaction lighting up her eyes as she slowly nodded, carefully filing that piece of information away for later.

If you remembered everything, you remembered all the things you’d said about her. As well as what she had subtly hinted at on the couch, too.

“Good to know,” She hummed, before pushing herself up from the edge of the bed. She stood at full height, tugging her vest back into its proper place and smoothing down her shorts. “I was going to make some breakfast, are you hungry?” 

“Starving, actually," You admitted sheepishly. “Is it alright if I take a quick shower while you do that?” 

“Of course.” She replied instantly, gesturing toward the bathroom with an easy smile. “Take as long as you want. I’ll get some more clothes for you and get started on the food.” 

With a final, reassuring nod, Alexia slipped out of the room, leaving you to the blissful sanctuary of a hot shower. 

True to her word, by the time you stepped out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam rolling out behind you, a fresh stack of clean clothes was sitting neatly at the foot of the bed. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the endless supply, drowning in both her clothes and the laundry detergent you’d loved the scent of for a little while now.

You quickly changed, taking a deep, steadying breath to steel yourself before finally bracing the hallway and padding down the stairs.

You walked into the kitchen slowly, your shoulders slightly hunched and your hands tucked into your pockets, still carrying that quiet morning-after bashfulness.

Alexia was standing over the hob, the rich, savoury aroma of frying eggs and toasted bread filling the bright room. She didn’t even have to look up to hear your hesitant footsteps, letting out another amused huff as she flicked the spatula expertly.

“You don’t have to be so awkward, you know,” She said, turning her head to flash you a warm, easy smile. She rested one hand on her hip, looking at how carefully you were hovering near the edge of the kitchen island. “You’re more than just a guest, you’re welcome here anytime. You’re… you’re like Bambi right now. Just totally unsure of your feet. Stop being so scared.”

A quiet, involuntary giggle slipped past your lips, the tension in your shoulders dropping a fraction. “I hope the nickname Bambi doesn’t stick.”

Alexia’s smirk returned in full force, her dark eyes dancing with a wicked, playful light as she turned back to the pan. “Well, that entirely depends on how you behave.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your mouth as you moved to pull out a barstool. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No,” Alexia hummed, her chuckle low and thoroughly satisfied as she plated up the food. “You definitely shouldn’t have.”

The slight hints of tension evaporated into the steam of fresh coffee as you both sat down at the island. The initial awkwardness settled down into a comfortable silence as you both ate. It wasn’t an unpleasant or empty quiet; it was full of the domestic scraping of forks against plates, the hum of the kitchen appliances, the morning chirps of birds in the garden outside, clearly glad the chaos of the previous night was over.

It was a shared lazy morning lull, underscored by the lingering warmth of the sun hitting the kitchen floor.

But as the last few bites were finished and your cutlery finally scraped against the ceramic to a halt, Alexia’s mind began to wonder again. Right back to the shadows of the side garden on the sofa, again.

She stared down at her empty plate, her fingers idly tapping against the handle of her mug. She couldn’t let it go.

Hearing you admit all those things to Clara had been causing an uncomfortable twisting pain within her all morning. 

Alexia was used to having to be the structured one, the fortress, the captain who held it together. She revelled in it. 

Most of the time.

Hearing that her guard, the very wall she built to survive the pressure, had made you feel small and unwelcome in her life? It made her stomach churn.

Those walls were just a facade. And though, she supposed, it was good enough that it could fool almost anyone, she didn’t want it to affect her life in such a way like it had with you.

She wanted to lay it out, but she needed to be careful. You were still fragile, what with the hangover and the embarrassment. 

She took a final slow sip of her coffee, before setting the mug down with a soft clink to break the silence.

“You know last night,” she started, not looking up, keeping her eyes on her mug to give you space. “Before everyone left, when you were on the sofa.” 

You instantly felt a spike of adrenaline shoot straight to your chest, your mind racing through the fuzzy timeline– the weird confessional Kika and Patri had baited you into, and then the pathetic tearful rambles you’d unloaded onto an unprepared Clara.

“Yeah?” You squeaked out, clearing your throat to try and sound normal. You gripped your glass of water a little tighter. “What about it?”

“Just…” Alexia trailed off, shifting her weight on the barstool. She glanced up then, trying to gauge how much you could handle. “You seemed really… overwhelmed when you left the group. And when I came out later, you still looked… weighed down. So I just… I guess I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Because you don’t have to lie or pretend with me, you know.” 

“Oh. Right.” You mumbled, looking everywhere but at her. You traced the edge of your plate with your thumb, trying to skirt around the massive elephant in the room. “Yeah, no, I’m fine. Just, you know, too many beers. And I get emotional when I’m tired. I probably just said a bunch of nonsense to Clara. You know how it is.” 

Alexia stayed quiet for a minute, mulling it over. 

“Was it? Nonsense?” She asked quietly a little later. Almost afraid of the answer.

“Total nonsense.” You liked quickly, nodding your head with a strained, bashful laugh. “Completely ridiculous stuff. Don’t even worry about it.”

Alexia watched you scramble, and though she perhaps should’ve been disheartened at your answer, a helpless surge of affection overtook her instead. 

She couldn’t keep the secret anymore; it wasn’t fair to let you hide behind a lie when you were both desperate for the truth.

A small, knowing smile broke across her face. She leaned her forearms onto the island, tilting her head slightly.

“I heard some of it, you know.” 

Your hand stopped dead on the table, your eyes widening to the size of saucers as the breath caught squarely in your throat. Your mind blanked out in pure panic as you froze under her gaze.

The brunette let out a low, amused chuckle at the reaction, her eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Again with the Bambi.” She teased, lightly bumping her knee into yours. 

“I– I wasn’t… it really wasn't what it sounded like,” you scrambled to defend yourself, the words tumbling out in a panicked rush as you desperately tried to piece together a coherent excuse. “I was tipsy, and Clara was just there, and I talk so much rubbish when I’ve had a few beers, Alexia, seriously, you can’t take anything I say after midnight–”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Alexia cut in gently, her soft voice instantly halting your spiral. She didn't let the distance grow between you, instead leaning in a fraction closer. The teasing smirk was entirely gone, replaced by an expression so genuinely reassuring it made your mind spin. “Calm down. I’m not mad. I promise you, I’m not mad at all.”

You blinked, your mouth shutting instantly as you stared at her, your heart still thumping a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Your eyes darted around the kitchen, desperately scanning the marble countertops, the coffee machine, the windows– literally anything to avoid the intense, steady focus of her gaze while your brain frantically searched for a way out.

“Why are you looking at the toaster like it’s going to save you?” Alexia asked, a breathless laugh escaping her lips, though her eyes remained completely soft.

“I’m not,” You mumbled miserably, finally dropping your gaze back to your lap. “I just… I really didn't mean to drag you into my messy thoughts.”

Alexia stayed quiet for a moment, letting the room settle. Then, slowly, she shifted her arm across the cool marble of the island and placed her hand directly over yours. Her palm was incredibly warm, her fingers resting securely over your trembling knuckles, grounding you completely.

“Look at me,” She requested softly.

Reluctantly, you lifted your eyes to meet hers.

“If I heard what I think I heard out there,” Alexia murmured, her thumb making a slow, incredibly tender stroke across the back of your hand, “then… you don’t need to be nervous at all about how I will react. Not even a little bit.” She paused, her dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made all your hesitations dissolve. “Just… be honest with me. Please.”

The raw sincerity in her voice almost overwhelmed you. A fresh, deep blush crept right back up to your cheeks, but beneath the embarrassment, an all-consuming sense of relief took over. You swallowed the lump in your throat, staring at her hand over yours, and gave a small nod.

Once the floodgates opened, there was no stopping it.

The slight hangover and the months of suppressed longing collided all at once, causing the words to come rushing out your mouth in a desperate, unfiltered torrent.

“It’s just… I’ve felt like this literally for months, Ale.” You started, your hands gesturing wildly as you tried to explain the chaos in your head. “And every time I wanted to say something, I’d look at how completely composed you are, how you handle everything with this intense focus, and I’d just chicken out.” 

Alexia gave a wistful smile, the sight almost derailing you. But you wanted to power through this now, no matter what. No looking back.

“I was so convinced that if I let it slip, I’d just… be an annoying distraction to you. I didn’t want to throw a wrench into your peace or make things awkward at training, and then Patri and Kika kept setting up stupid traps, and I was just so mortified because the last thing I ever wanted to do was burden you with my messy feelings, and I–”

You paused to catch your breath, your eyes finally flicking back to the woman sitting next to you. 

Alexia hadn't moved an inch. 

She was sitting with her elbow propped casually on the marble island, her chin resting comfortably in her hand as she gazed at you. Her eyes were fixed entirely on your face, completely captivated, and a soft, deeply affectionate smile played on her lips as she drank in every single word of your chaotic confession. She looked entirely untroubled, thoroughly content, and devastatingly beautiful in the morning light.

The undivided intensity of her gaze caused the rest of your sentence to completely die in your throat. Your cheeks flared an even deeper shade of crimson, and you shifted uncomfortably on your stool, suddenly feeling very small under her look.

How the tables had turned; now it was you who couldn’t stop blushing.

“...and I don’t know what to do with myself when you look at me like that, especially,” You finished in a tiny, breathless murmur, your voice trailing off as you nervously tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Alexia’s grin only widened at that, a quiet rumbling chuckle vibrating in her chest as she watched you squirm.

“I can’t help it,” She murmured smoothly, her eyes dancing with an unapologetic fondness.

You let out a breathy, nervous huff and rolled your eyes, though the defensive gesture did absolutely nothing to cool the burning heat in your cheeks.

Alexia let the comfortable quiet of the kitchen settle around you for a moment. She dropped her hand from her chin and shifted her posture, leaning closer until the space between you was practically non-existent. She gently took your hand back in hers, her thumb resuming that slow stroke against your skin. 

She knew it was her turn now, and she needed to make sure you fully absorbed every single word.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully,” Alexia began, her voice dropping to a low, incredibly gentle whisper. She waited until your eyes flicked up to meet hers, holding your gaze so you couldn't look away.

“You are not too chaotic for me,” She stated firmly, erasing any room for doubt. “You are not an annoying distraction, and you could never, ever disrupt my peace. Nothing of what you’ve built up in your head to be terrified of is true.”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as you listened to the sheer conviction in her tone.

“I like you exactly because you are the opposite of me,” Alexia continued, her expression softening into something heartwarmingly vulnerable. “My entire life is structured, heavily monitored, and constantly under pressure. But you... you bring out entirely different sides of me. Sides I sometimes forget I even have. You make me laugh when I’m stressed, you make me forget about the weight of the captain's armband, and those walls you think I have up?”

She paused, her thumb pressing a little firmer into the back of your hand.

“Whenever you’re around, they come falling down without you even trying,” She confessed quietly, laying her heart completely bare. “You don't need to worry about breaking through them, Bambi. You’ve been on the other side of them for months.”

The breath rushed out of your lungs in a shaky exhale, your vision blurring slightly at the edges as her words washed over you. All those months of agonising over every little interaction, over every lingering touch, suddenly clicked into place.

Alexia’s brow furrowed slightly, a flash of genuine guilt passing through her dark eyes. “It breaks my heart that I made you feel like you were a burden. I was trying so hard to respect your boundaries and not make things complicated for you at the club, but I am so sorry that my distance made you feel–”

“Don’t,” You cut her off quickly, your fingers instinctively curling around hers to squeeze her hand tight. “You don’t need to apologise, Ale. Seriously. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Alexia paused, her eyes searching yours, wordlessly questioning if you really meant it.

“It’s just my useless habit of overthinking.” You admitted with another self-deprecating chuckle. “You were just being you. I build these massive worst-case scenarios in my head and then convince myself they’re real. It’s stupid.” 

A grin spread slowly across Alexia’s face, her eyes lighting up with that familiar playful mischief. She leaned in just a fraction closer, her knees bracketing yours as you both sat sideways on the barstools. 

“That’s alright, because we found a solution to that last night, didn’t we?”

You blinked, a little confused. “What do you mean?” 

Without breaking eye contact, Alexia slowly shifted her hand. She uncurled her fingers from yours, slid her hand just an inch down the marble counter, and hooked her smallest finger tightly around your pinky. She gave it a firm, teasing wiggle right there on the kitchen island.

A bright, genuine laugh burst from you at the sight, your whole body relaxing as the lingering remnants of your morning panic finally vanished. 

“You and these fucking promises.” You shook your head, unable to tear your eyes away from how she looked at you. 

You quietened after that, though. Your laughter melted into something smaller, just the corner of your mouth turned upward as your fingers remained hooked together and her gaze never left yours. Each of you slowly began to process the others’ words, internally beaming at the unexpected turn of events. 

“I can’t quite believe we’ve finally… talked about it.” You whispered, staring down at your intertwined fingers before looking back up at her. It felt completely surreal, sitting in her kitchen and holding her hand while she confessed her feelings.

Alexia just smiled, as a soft and context expression took over her features at the same time she gave a casual shrug of her shoulders. “It’s been a long time coming. We were both just being too stubborn.” 

“Definitely too stubborn.” You nodded in bashful agreement, shaking your head. Then you let out a quiet snort as you thought about the madness of the previous night. “Stubborn to the point where our idiotic team had to basically bang our heads together.” 

Alexia threw her head back, a loud laugh echoing through the kitchen. “Don’t give them too much credit.” 

“They’re never going to let us live this down.” You added with a sigh, your thumb tracing the smooth skin of her hand.

Alexia hummed in agreement, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she kept her pinky firmly hooked with yours. The kitchen fell back into a quiet, content silence, but the air felt entirely different now. The suffocating weight that had been hanging over your chest all morning was completely gone, replaced by a warm and bubbling lightness.

You sat there for a few unhurried moments, just taking her in. 

The way the bright morning sun caught the golden undertones in her brown hair, the relaxed slope of her shoulders, and the soft, incredibly peaceful expression on her face. For months, you had viewed her as this untouchable fortress, but right now, sitting sideways on a barstool in a kitchen that smelled of coffee, you were left wondering how on earth you’d let those thoughts slide.

Her gaze dropped to your hands, her thumb mindlessly rubbing the side of your finger. Following her line of sight, your chest swelled with a sudden, overwhelming wave of affection. It was a bizarre, beautiful contrast– the stern captain holding your pinky like a schoolgirl on her kitchen island.

Slowly, your gaze drifted back up, tracing the sharp line of her jaw before finally landing on her mouth. The morning light caught the soft, natural curve of her lips, and the sudden realisation of what you actually wanted hit you all at once. The craving was so sharp it made your breath catch.

You leaned in just a tiny bit, your knees shifting against hers, shrinking the space between you until you could feel the faint warmth radiating from her skin.

“I really want to kiss you,” You whispered, piquing her interest. Only for you to sigh dramatically and lean back again. “But I can’t right now.” 

Alexia’s eyebrows shot up, a startled but highly amused laugh escaping her lips at your sudden turnaround. She didn’t let go of your pinky, instead leaning forward with a bright, curious gleam in her eyes.

“No?” She asked, her voice rich with a teasing undertone. “You can’t? You literally just said you wanted to.”

“I do!” You defended dramatically, throwing your free hand up in the air before dropping it back onto your lap. “But I haven't even brushed my teeth yet, I just feel completely gross. I don't want our first proper kiss to be overshadowed by a hangover and general morning grogginess. I want it to be a good memory, Ale.”

Alexia stared at you for a short beat, her expression softening so fast it was almost dizzying. A noise of pure, melting affection escaped her throat, her eyes crinkling deeply at the corners.

“You’re really something, hm,” She murmured, shaking her head. She slowly unhooked her pinky from yours, but before you could miss the contact, she slid her stool even closer, her knees firmly slotting around yours. “Alright. Fine. If you’re being stubborn about that… let me do this instead.”

She reached up, her warm hands gently coming to cradle your jawline. Her fingers were soft against your skin, her thumbs lightly tracing your cheekbones as she tilted your face up slightly. You held your breath, your pulse instantly starting to quicken.

Slowly, deliberately, Alexia leaned in. She pressed a soft, warm kiss to your left cheek, her lips lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle. Then, she shifted slightly, her breath brushing against your skin as she dropped an identical, tender kiss onto your right cheek.

You thought that was it, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she moved to the center, her eyelids fluttering shut as she pressed a firm, affectionate, lingering kiss right against the middle of your forehead.

The contact sent your heart into absolute overdrive. It felt like a physical shockwave of warmth rolling straight down your spine, leaving your stomach doing a series of wild, uncontrolled flips. It wasn't just a casual gesture; the sheer care and gravity behind the way she held your face made you feel like you were floating.

(And not because of alcohol this time.)

When she finally pulled back, her hands slid down to rest casually on your shoulders, a soft, triumphant smile playing on her lips as she looked down at your inevitably crimson face.

“Who’s the blusher now?” 

You let out a groan of pure embarrassment, completely defeated, and dropped your forehead forward until it rested heavily against her shoulder. Your face was buried in the soft fabric of her top, your hands instinctively rising to lightly grip the sides of her waist.

Alexia let out a low chuckle that vibrated right through your chest, burying her face into your hair for a brief second.

“That was too soft, Ale,” You grumbled against her shoulder, though a smile was tugging at the corners of your own mouth. “You’re cheating.”

“Too soft?” Alexia retorted, her voice dropping into a thoroughly amused, teasing purr. “Not true for you. I can literally feel your heart hammering from here.”

To make matters worse, she brought her hands down from your shoulders and began to rub them in slow, soothing strokes up and down your back. The gentle friction through the thick grey hoodie only made your stomach do another round of ridiculous flips, and you squeezed your eyes shut, completely content to stay hidden against her forever.

The domestic bubble was abruptly shattered by a sharp ping from the marble counter.

You reluctantly pulled your head back, shooting a glare at your phone as it buzzed again. You slid off the barstool, your legs still a little heavy, and reached for the device. Glancing at the screen, your eyes went wide as the digital clock and a message stared back at you.

“Oh, damn it,” You groaned again, running a hand over your face. “I completely forgot. I have plans with my family this afternoon. I… I have to leave right now or I’m going to be late.”

Alexia’s expression softened with instant understanding, her hands dropping away as she stood up with you. “Don’t stress. Go grab your stuff from upstairs, I’ll wait by the door.”

Ten minutes later, you were walking down her front path toward your car. The midday air was warm and crisp, a stark contrast to the heavy, tearful shadows of the garden the night before. You felt a million times lighter.

“Send me a text when you get home,” Alexia called out from the open doorway. She was leaning her shoulder comfortably against the frame, her hands tucked into the pockets of her shorts as she watched you.

You paused by your driver’s side door, turning back to face her with an easy smile. “I will.”

Alexia lingered for a second, her eyes tracking your face before a small, uncharacteristically bashful look crossed her features. “And… text me after that, too?”

Your heart did a violent, happy flip in your chest. You looked at her, entirely charmed. “As long as you promise to text me back.”

Without a word, Alexia lifted her hand from her pocket and held up her pinky finger, her eyes swirling with that playful affection. You couldn't help the wide, helpless grin that split your face as you lifted your own hand, mimicking the gesture from across the lawn to seal the silent contract.

With a final wave, you unlocked your car and climbed into the driver’s seat. As you pulled the seatbelt across your chest, your hand brushed against the thick, heavy fabric of the grey pullover. You froze, looking down at yourself, and realised with a sudden jolt of amusement that you were still wearing her clothes.

You let out a quiet huff and reached up to adjust the rearview mirror before backing out of the driveway. 

But as your eyes tracked the reflection, your gaze travelled past your own face and straight through the large glass window of her kitchen.

There she was, completely oblivious to the fact you were watching. Alexia was standing by the sink, idly wiping down the marble island after breakfast, and she was smiling uncontrollably to herself– a completely private grin that reached all the way to her eyes.

You shifted the car into gear and drove away, the lingering smell of her fabric softeners surrounding you, your own smile matching hers the entire ride home.

—

the seat beside yours stays empty until the last boarding call.

you don’t look up at first.

there’s another line in the quarterly report that doesn’t quite add up. the acquisition numbers look optimistic to the point of fiction, and you’re halfway through highlighting a paragraph when someone slides into 4b.

a soft thud.

a carry-on tucked away.

the faint smell of expensive perfume and something clean.

“hi.”

you glance over automatically.

she smiles.

it’s unfair, really.

the sort of smile that belongs on magazine covers rather than overnight flights across the atlantic.

“hi.”

she settles in, buckling her seatbelt with practiced ease. a baseball cap disappears into the seat pocket, revealing blonde hair that’s slightly flattened from wearing it through the airport.

you return to your report.

you make it exactly three sentences.

“business or pleasure?”

you look up. “…pardon?”

she nods towards the stack of printed reports balanced across your lap. “are you reading for business or pleasure?”

you blink once. “unless we’re suddenly counting stocks as pleasure…” she laughs. “…then no. it’s all business.”

“some people do count investments as pleasure.”

you snort despite yourself. “do they?”

“absolutely.”

“those people need hobbies.”

she grins. “to each their own.”

there’s a pause, and you study her for a second. “what about you?”

“what about me?”

“why are you going to chicago?”

she leans back comfortably. “i’ve got a modelling thing.”

you nod slowly. “so you’re a model.”

she smiles wider. “i’m a footballer.”

“…oh.”

“but thank you for complimenting my looks.”

your cheeks warm just enough to annoy you. “that wasn’t-”

“it absolutely was.”

“i made an assumption.”

“based on my face.”

“based on the modelling.”

she hums, pretending to consider it. “i’ll allow it.”

the aircraft begins to taxi.

the conversation should end there.

it doesn’t.

“and you?” she asks. “what do you do when you’re not insulting footballers?”

“I work in finance.”

“that explains the reports.”

“i’m glad we’ve solved that mystery.”

“high-powered?”

“reasonably.”

“boring?”

“only to people who don’t enjoy spreadsheets.”

“ah.”

she nods thoughtfully. “so definitely boring.”

you smile despite yourself. “you asked.”

“i did.”

she offers her hand. “alexia.”

you take it. her grip is warm, firm, her hands slightly calloused from years of training and competing.

“y/n.”

“nice to meet you, y/n.”

the seatbelt sign stays on for another twenty minutes.

by the time it switches off, you’ve somehow learnt that she’s flying over for a campaign with a sportswear brand after preseason training.

she learns that you’re presenting to a board on monday morning.

“that’s why you’re reading reports on a plane?”

“i like being prepared.”

“you’re reading printed financial statements.”

“yes.”

“on holiday.”

“i’m not on holiday.”

“exactly.”

she shakes her head dramatically. “tragic.”

the flight attendant appears with drinks. “can i get you anything?”

alexia glances at you. “wine?”

you hesitate for perhaps half a second. “…why not.”

“two reds, please.”

the first glass disappears surprisingly quickly.

the second follows not long after dinner.

your reports are abandoned somewhere between discussing football stadium atmospheres and the merits of deep-dish pizza.

she tells stories well.

animated hands.

bright eyes.

every sentence somehow ending with you laughing.

you tell fewer stories.

she notices.

“you’re one of those people.”

“what people?”

“the quiet ones.”

“i talk.”

“when spoken to.”

“that’s generally how conversations work.”

“mm.”

she tips her glass slightly. “but when you do talk…”

she studies you over the rim. “…it’s usually worth listening.”

the compliment lands heavier than expected, causing you look away.

outside the window, there’s nothing except darkness broken occasionally by wing lights.

the cabin dims.

most people around you begin settling in.

blankets.

headphones.

sleep masks.

business class becomes strangely intimate in the low lighting.

voices lower.

movements slower.

alexia slips off her shoes, folding one leg beneath herself. “you’re thinking again.”

“am i?”

“finance face.”

“finance face?”

“very serious.”

“i don’t have a finance face.”

“you absolutely do.”

she reaches over before you can react. two fingers gently press the space between your eyebrows. 

“right…”

another light push.

“…there.”

you stare at her. “…what?”

“your frown disappeared.”

she withdraws her hand like nothing happened. “much better.”

you should probably be irritated.

instead-

“you’re very confident.”

“only when i drink.”

“often?”

“maybe once a month.”

you laugh quietly. “i can imagine.”

she watches you for a moment. “there it is.”

“what?”

“you smile more than you think.”

you hold her gaze. “you’re very observant.”

“occupational hazard.”

“football?”

“captain.” she shrugs. “always watching people.”

the silence that follows isn’t awkward.

it’s… comfortable.

dangerously so.

she looks good in the dim cabin lighting.

you notice details now.

the strength in her forearms.

the watch on her wrist.

the tiny scar near her thumb.

she catches you looking. “what?”

“nothing.”

“liar.”

“i wasn’t-”

“checking me out?”

“…”

she smiles slowly.

“it’s okay.”

you clear your throat. “you’re very sure of yourself.”

“would it help if i admitted i’ve been trying not to look at you for the last hour?”

your heart does something deeply inconvenient. “…really?”

“really.”

another pause.

“those reading glasses aren’t helping.”

you glance down. “my reading glasses?”

“you put them on to read.”

“…yes.”

“terrible decision.”

you laugh under your breath. “because?”

“because every time you adjust them…” her eyes flick briefly to your mouth before returning. “…i forget what i was saying.”

the air feels warmer.

or maybe it’s just the wine.

you remove your glasses. “better?”

she exhales once. “significantly worse.”

your laugh comes quieter this time.

closer.

neither of you has noticed when the armrest stopped being enough space between you.

your shoulders brush now whenever either of you moves.

she doesn’t move away.

neither do you.

“can i ask you something?”

“depends.”

“are you always this…” she searches for the word.

“…careful?”

“careful?”

“like you’re calculating twelve different outcomes before you say anything.”

you think about denying it.

instead-

“usually.”

“and right now?”

your eyes meet hers, and your voice becomes softer. “right now… i’m trying very hard not to make a bad decision.”

she smiles. “interesting.”

“why?”

“because i was thinking exactly the same thing.”

another beat.

the hum of the engines fills the silence.

she tilts her head slightly. “i’m going to ask you something.”

“okay.”

“you can absolutely say no.”

“okay.”

“but if i don’t kiss you before this plane lands…”

her smile turns almost shy for the first time all evening.

“…i think i’m going to regret it.”

your eyes flick briefly to her mouth then back. “…that’s funny.”

“why?”

“because i was wondering how much longer you’d wait before asking.”

she laughs.

quiet enough not to disturb anyone sleeping nearby.

“so…”

“so.”

“…may i?”

instead of answering-

you lean the remaining inch between you.

her lips meet yours gently. just once- soft, testing even.

when you pull back, neither of you says anything for a few seconds.

alexia’s forehead rests lightly against yours.

“…well,” she murmurs.

“well.”

“that didn’t exactly help.”

“no.”

“made it considerably worse.”

you smile.

“i noticed.”

her thumb brushes absentmindedly against your wrist. “walk with me?”

“where?”

she glances meaningfully towards the rear of the aircraft.

“just…” another smile. “…to stretch our legs.”

you look at her.

at the sleepy cabin around you.

at the knowing expression she’s trying (and failing) to hide.

then you quietly unbuckle your seatbelt.

“lead the way.”

the aisle lights are dimmed to a faint amber glow. most passengers are asleep, blankets pulled high, headphones in.

the hum of the engines swallows almost every sound.

alexia walks just ahead of you, one hand lightly brushing the seat backs. you follow close enough that when the plane shifts in a bit of turbulence your fingers graze her lower back.

she doesn’t pull away. if anything she leans into the touch.

the galley at the rear is empty. the flight attendants have retreated to their jump seats. 

alexia glances once over her shoulder at you, that small conspiratorial smirk playing on her lips, then pushes open the door to the accessible lavatory.

the second the door clicks shut behind you the tiny space feels electric.

she turns and kisses you like she’s been waiting hours to do it. not gentle this time. her hands slide up your neck, fingers threading into your hair as she backs you against the counter. 

you taste the red wine on her tongue, feel the solid warmth of her body pressing flush against yours.

you kiss her back harder, nipping at her bottom lip, and she makes this soft surprised sound that shoots straight between your legs.

“fuck,” she breathes against your mouth, half laughing. “you’ve been holding out on me.”

“you’ve been talking too much.”

she grins, bright and wicked, then ducks her head to mouth at your neck, sucking lightly just below your ear.

your head falls back against the mirror with a quiet thud.

her hands move with purpose. one slips under your blouse, palm sliding up your ribs, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your bra. the other grips your hip, pulling you even closer.

you tug at the hem of her shirt, fingers finding warm skin and the firm lines of muscle along her abdomen.

when you scratch lightly down her sides she shivers and presses her thigh between yours.

the pressure is immediate. perfect. not enough.

“alexia-” you whisper.

she answers by rolling her hips, slow and deliberate, grinding against you until your breath catches. her mouth finds yours again, deeper, messier.

you can feel how turned on she is. the heat of her through her joggers. the way her breathing is already getting ragged.

her fingers work open the button of your trousers, sliding the zipper down just enough to slip her hand inside. 

when she feels how wet you are she groans quietly against your lips. “dios mio… you’re soaked.”

you don’t answer with words. instead you push your own hand down the front of her joggers, past the waistband of her underwear, and find her just as drenched. the sound she makes when your fingers slide through her folds is low and filthy.

for a moment you just touch each other like that. slow, exploratory strokes. learning what makes the other gasp. 

her forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard in the tiny space.

she curls two fingers and presses them inside you without warning. your knees nearly buckle.

you bite down on her shoulder to stay quiet, and she hisses in pleasure at the sting.

“that’s it,” she murmurs, voice wrecked. “just like that.”

you match her rhythm, sliding two fingers into her at the same time. she’s tight and so fucking wet it makes your head spin. 

you crook your fingers and she clenches around you with a broken moan she tries to muffle against your neck.

the plane hums beneath you. someone coughs a few rows away. the risk of it all only makes everything sharper.

alexia’s thumb finds your clit and starts circling and your hips jerk forward involuntarily. you’re both trembling now, trying to stay quiet, hands moving faster, breaths mingling hot and desperate.

she kisses you again, messy and urgent, like she can’t get enough.

you’re right on the edge already.

alexia can feel it. she curls her fingers deeper, stroking that spot inside you with devastating precision while her thumb keeps perfect pressure on your clit. 

her mouth is on your neck again, sucking, biting, whispering filthy little things against your skin.

“come on amor… let go for me.” the words combined with the steady rhythm of her fingers push you over. 

you come hard, clenching around her, thighs shaking as the orgasm crashes through you. 

you bury your face in her shoulder to muffle the sound, nails digging into her back through her shirt.

she doesn’t stop. she keeps fucking you through it, slower now, drawing it out until you’re trembling and oversensitive.

when you finally catch your breath you kiss her hard, tasting desperation. your fingers are still buried inside her, and you start moving again with renewed purpose. 

you match the pace she used on you, curling, stroking, thumb circling her swollen clit.

alexia’s hips stutter. her breathing turns broken and shallow.

“fuck… just like that,” she gasps.

you can feel her getting close. her walls flutter around your fingers, slick and hot. you add a third finger and she moans louder than she should, forehead pressed to yours, eyes half shut.

her hand is still between your legs, lazily stroking you even as she starts falling apart. 

the overstimulation makes you whimper but you don’t want her to stop.

“i’m gonna-” she chokes out.

“come for me,” you whisper against her mouth.

she does. hard. her whole body tenses, thighs clamping around your hand as she rides out the waves. 

you keep moving through it, gentler now, until she’s shaking and panting into your neck.

for a long moment the only sounds are both of you breathing heavily and the low drone of the plane engines.

alexia pulls back just enough to look at you. her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, hair completely messed up. 

she looks wrecked in the best possible way. she brings her fingers to her mouth and slowly licks them clean, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

you nearly short-circuit all over again, and she grins at your expression, soft and satisfied. 

you both start fixing your clothes with shaky hands, stealing little kisses between adjustments. 

when you’re decent again she leans in and presses a gentler kiss to your forehead.

then, like it’s the most casual thing in the world, she murmurs, “so i’ll pick you up friday at eight.”

you blink, still a little dazed. “sorry?”

she smiles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “unless you only wanted this to be a one time thing.”

“no- no i’d love to see you again,” you say quickly, heart doing something ridiculous in your chest. “but i don’t even have your number?”

alexia’s smile widens, warm and a little cocky. “well amor, we better fix that then, shouldn’t we?”

⸻

-----

Thousands of people were watching the Champions League final between Arsenal and Barcelona at Estádio José Alvalade in Lisbon. Amongst the huge crowd divided between Arsenal’s red and Barcelona’s blaugrana, you were watching the match in one of Daphne’s yellow goalkeeper kits. 

You watched your wife make save after save to keep Arsenal in the game, cheering along loudly with her parents and sister in the family section. When Stina scored the whole section went crazy, you all stood up and cheered loudly for the girls who were ahead in the arguably the most important match of their club careers. 

Now all they had to do was keep the lead up and not let any goals through. You were sitting on the edge of your seat watching Barcelona trying to attack over and over again, but the girls weren’t letting them through. Countless blocks from the defenders, incredible saves from Daphne, and more balls kicked far away than you had ever seen from them. 

The final whistle blew and all the built up nerves were worth it. You couldn’t quite believe it yet, your wife, champion of Europe. Reaching the goal she had dreamt of since she was a little girl in her first season with the club. Tears were rolling down your cheeks with pride as her mom hugged you tight.

On the pitch everyone ran into each other’s arms to celebrate. Little huddles were formed all over the pitch, but you could pick Daphne out of them easily. She had sat down in her goal, looking around at her teammates with the biggest smile on her face. Everything she had worked towards, pushing through an injury to be able to be here, and now she had done it. You wanted to join her on the pitch right at that moment, but you knew you had to wait until after the medal ceremony. 

When you were finally allowed to go onto the pitch, Daphne ran straight to you. “I am so proud of you.” You say through happy tears as you hug her tight. You’re standing in the hug swaying back and forth lightly just whispering to each other. Until you say, “I can’t wait to show the baby that their mom is a European champion.” Daphne smiles wide and puts her forehead against yours, with tears welling in her eyes, she places a hand on your small baby bump. Without thinking she drops to her knees so she can kiss your bump. A quiet moment between the two of you, completely forgetting that you are surrounded by tens of thousands people in the stadium and to many many more on tv screens, and social media. She’s up again after and engulfs you in another big hug, before she goes to hug her family.

The celebrations on the pitch go on for a while, but eventually it is time for the girls to go party in the dressing room. The rest of the families heading inside to see each other later again. 

Once out of the partying dressing rooms, Daphne has a couple of interviews to do. She walks in proudly with her champions kit, and her gold medal hanging around her neck. Most questions are about the match, and focussed on her saves, how the team played, and asking for some insights on the party in the dressing room and what is to be ahead. But the final question takes her a little by surprise.

“And finally, we saw a moment on the pitch with your wife. Would you like to share anything? Any insights on what we think we saw out there?” Daphne looks puzzled for a moment, wondering what moment they meant. “Having her and my family out here was amazing, I am glad they were able to take time off and fly out to watch me play.” She settles on. 

The interviewer smiles, and tries one more time to see if she would get an answer more in the direction that she was hoping for. “Having them here must have felt very special. There seemed to be something even more special about this moment though. Do we have a baby van Domselaar on the way?” 

Daphne’s smile grew even wider, if that was even possible. “Right yeah, we didn’t really plan on sharing the news like this, but how can you not celebrate a win like this with your wife and baby on the way, right?” She said proudly. “Thank you for your time, and double congratulations.” The interviewer says before Daphne moves on to the next interview. 

In the family area, you had found a seat to the side, needing a moment away from all the busyness. You were just catching up on some texts, when your phone started blowing up with notifications. You figured some of Daphne’s fans were going to tag you in stuff from tonight, since the two of you share a lot of your relationship with the fans on social media, but you hadn’t expected this much.

You click the next notification that comes up, and see an interview with Daphne open up on your phone. Her smile is radiant, and it instantly warms your heart to see how happy she is. The post seemed to be a small clip from a bigger interview, and when you heard the question about a baby, you knew why your phone was blowing up.

You shared a lot of your relationship online, but this was something that you hadn’t shared yet. All of your friends and family knew, but online you had kept it to yourself for now. Not that you didn’t want to share the information, you were just waiting for the next international break to share. Wanting Daphne to be able to focus on the Champions League without the focus being on growing her family. Now that the final was played and won though, you knew you wouldn’t have to keep it private anymore, so while you were waiting to celebrate with the team, you went through your notifications and liked all the cute edits the fans were making of the two of you, the baby announcement, and the moment on the pitch where Daphne kissed your bump.

A few days later, the two of you are at home, after days of celebrating and high energies, it was just the two of you at home. Daphne was lying with her head in your lap, completely focused on your bump as she was waiting for the baby to kick again.

When it happens, she grins, then looks up at you. “So, we accidentally hard launched our pregnancy.” she teases. “Do you want to make it Instagram official?” You chuckle at her social media terms, but smile and move your fingers through her hair. “Yeah, let’s officially share our news with the world.” 

Daphne grabs her phone, and the two of you look through the pictures you had taken to find the best ones to post together. You settled on three images, one of the photoshoot you had done, one with the first little outfit you had bought for the baby, and one a little silly but one you loved so dearly.

daphnevdomselaar and y/nvandomselaar posted

daphnevdomselaar: We’ve shared a lot with you, but this one might be our favourite. Baby van Domselaar arriving January 2026 💗

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The hotel room felt far too quiet for a day that's supposed to be this big. Almost eerily and uncomfortable if it wasn't for the mix of Alexia's pacing and you struggling to get your clothes on and fitting so they felt just right against your body.

You'd long tuned out the slight sound of Alexia's feet against the rough hotel flooring. She was far from composed and the pacing was definitely an anxious, restless mix where her hands keep finding her hips, then her hair, the bridge of her nose. All while her eyes darted from towards you, then back in front of her and back to you again.

You were the cause of her anxious pacing while you just sat on the edge of the bed trying to get the elastic of the skirt to feel comfortable underneath your, now, very rounded out stomach. Alexia doesn't even remember how she let you come with her to this champions league final, especially when the last two weeks have been filled with false alarm hospital visits.

Well if Alexia thinks hard enough she definitely remembers the way you kissed along her neck, holding her hands above her head while you rocked your hips against her thigh and wouldn't let her properly touch you if she didn't agree to you coming along.

You've never missed any of Alexia's important matches since you started dating so you definitely weren't going to let being very heavily pregnant stop you from missing this one. Also the logic that it was being held in Spain so you wouldn't technically be leaving the country helped Alexa come to terms with what she'd agreed to once the lust haze left her mind.

But right now she was having doubts and her concern was endearing even if it was bordering on annoying you a little bit. Though you will admit your entire pregnancy Alexia has been nothing but supportive and the perfect partner and you know everything right now is coing from a place of love.

And you couldn't help the warmth that flooded your chest at the thought, especially when you looked down and were reminded of the little family and life you were building together. The most perfect mami that Alexia was going to be. You couldn't wait for your little bean to already be here. You just know the post pregnancy hormones are going to go crazy once you see Alexia holding your little baby girl.

So much you might try to convince Alexia to put another one inside you already.

'Amor,' Alexia's voice is soft, with a slight strain to it. She stopped in front of you, eyes softening at the sight of you sitting there, her jersey you struggled to get on that just sits on top of your bump leaving it fully exposed.

But there was no way you weren't about to wear one of her jersey's, you needed that closeness to her, even more now that you were in these final stages. And Alexia would never complain seeing her name across your back. 

'Por favor,' Alexia kneeled down in front of you, you knew exactly what she was asking of you without her even needing to say it. You kept your eyes focused on your stomach, your hand rubbing slow circles where the baby had been kicking all morning.

Alexia grabbed hold of your hand that was just sitting beside you on the bed. Softly rubbing her thumbs against your knuckles before lifting your hand to her lips, kissing each knuckle gently. You knew exactly was she was doing, but no amount of sweetness from her could outweigh your stubbornness.

'Ale,' You drawed out, 'I'm fine,' You looked up at her, heart softening at the amount of concern evident in her eyes. You wanted her to stop worrying and just focus on the match, but you knew that was the least of her worries right now.

She could control football to an extent, even if she couldn't she still knew exactly how things could play out. But when it comes to you and your baby, there were so many unknowns, nothing Alexia could predict or fully prepare for and it made her panic a little. More than she'd ever admit to you. She doesn't like the thought that anything could just happen to either you or the baby and she wants to do her best to protect you both from everything bad.

'You're nine months pregnant, cari,' Alexia countered almost immediately like she'd preplanned and knew exactly how the start of this conversation was going to go, 'The baby could come at any moment,' 

You raised your eyebrow at her, 'And you're playing a champions league final. Kind of important too, no?'

Your attempt at humour and lifting the tension that filled the air of the hotel room, all from Alexia alone, doesn't land the way you hoped. Instead you see her jaw tighten, her thumb stills over your knuckles briefly and she takes in a deep breath, 'Mi amor, I love you, but this is not the same thing,'

You just smirked, 'Exactly,' You say gently, Alexia thinking you are finally going to agree with her, 'The final is much bigger,'

Alexia deadstared ahead of her, trying to keep what little patience she had left. You breathed deeply feeling the baby kick yet again, she'd really been putting you through it lately but you just took the hand that was already holding Alexia's and held it against your stomach.

Alexia's entire body softened and relaxed feeling her baby girl, she leaned down resting her forehead against your stomach and closed her eyes, 'Can't wait to meet you,' She whispered out. you could tell just from the slight tremor in her voice that her eyes were glossy. You loved teasing her for it but you were honestly the same way towards the little baby that had been growing inside you for the last nine months now.

But you were more than ready for her to make her appearance sooner rather than later, but maybe not today. Any day after today. You loved being pregnant and everything that came with it like being spoiled by Alexia and the newfound appreciation for your own self. But you were also at the point where you just wanted to meet your little baby, hold her in your arms.

'Ale, bebé, your entire family will be at the match,' You thought right now was the perfect time to reason with her, 'Your mami, Alba, wouldn't it be better if I was with them if something happens instead of being here alone,' Your free hand rested on Alexia's head, gently running your fingers through her hair.

She looked up at you, her cheek gently resting against the skin of your stomach. You could see the deep thoughts running through her mind and the way her eyes flickered towards your stomach before back up at you, you knew she was considering what you were saying, 'If anything feels not normal you will tell someone, sí?'

'I promise, mi amor,' Your fingers brushed over the side of Alexia's face, cupping her jaw gently, your thumb rubbing her cheek. She leaned into your touch, smiling softly.

That was enough for Alexia to break, she had a match to worry about and she knew you would be in the best care of her family and she knows exactly where you'd be so she could potentially keep a little eye on you. Though knowing Alexia she will get very involved in the game and her mind will be taken off of worrying about you.

'Mmm okay, I trust you,'

════════════════════════

The stadium is already loud by the time you make it to your seats. The familiar noise of the stadium settles into your bones in a way that instantly calms you. Alexia was already out on the pitch warming up, you gave her a little wave when she looked, squinting in your direction and you saw her shoulders drop before she went back to her drills.

The constant hum of anticipation, the drums, chants and thousands of voices rising and falling like waves, since finding yourself amongst Alexia's world this feeling had started feeling just like home in a way. You couldn't imagine your life without any of this.

You almost felt calmer than you did in the hotel.

You sat there settled in between Eli and Alba, your bump on full display now covered in temporary barcelona tattoos and glitter. There were some kids you ran in to on the way into the stadium that begged you to let them and you just couldn't say no.

'How cool do I look now with my new tattoos?' You looked so proud and amused while the glitter on your stomach glimmered in the sunlight, leaning back a bit in your seat to show it off even more.

Alba shook her head and handed you a bottle of water, 'At least you aren't let any nerves get to you right now,' She fully knows how you are normally a bundle of nerves whenever you're sat watching any of Alexia's important matches. You always just wanted to see your girl happy and hated how much she put on herself whenever they lost, 'You know what they say, stress could bring on the baby,' 

'Wouldn't that just add to the day? Could you imagine, only Ale's baby would be born at a stadium,' You laughed, your hand resting under your stomach holding it to try to relieve some of the pressure off your body and give you some very brief relief, 'Not even a day old and already on the pitch,' 

The two of you and your laughter got lost in amongst the rest of the noise in the stadium. Alba's hand on your arm, 'Maybe we shouldn't joke about it, the universe might actually listen to us and make it happen,' 

You could see Eli give you both an amused raised eyebrow which made you laugh a bit more, grinning at Alba, while brushing off a bit of the glitter that had fallen onto your lap. 

Chants continued to ripple through the stadium. The sound vibrated through your chest, you'd grown used to this rhythm over the years and you always basked in it. Especially when you got to watch your wife control the pitch with so much certainty you could never tear your eyes away whenever she was out there. 

You loved seeing Alexia in her element, doing what she does best. The more you grew to know and love the game, the more appreciation you had for everything Alexia does. Football has become such a big part of your life too now and you'd never complain about curling up against Alexia's side while she watched a match replay. 

Urging her to talk you through what she sees or is looking for whenever she rewatches matches, heart swelling with so much pride when you got to hear how her mind worked. You'd never played, only watched the occasional game here and there before her, so you loved every minute of getting to hear from inside the head of someone who's life has always revolved around football.

The scores were level going into the second half, the noise in the stadium definitely helped you to try to ignore the dull ache in your lower stomach that came and went in waves, gradually building as the second half went on.

'Are you okay?' Alba noticed your constant shifting in your seat, the way you were fidgeting with the cap of water bottle you were drinking from, how your grip changed on it every now and then.

'Sí, don't worry,' You smiled reassuringly. But you were trying to convince yourself that you hadn't noticed how this was differing to the cramps you'd been feeling over the past two weeks.

The last two weeks all you had to do was move slightly or drink some water and it would stop those cramps and false contractions. Right now nothing was working and you just knew this was different. But unfortunately for Alexia, you were way too stubborn for your own good.

You just breathed a bit more deeply, hand rubbing your stomach trying to will this baby to just wait. You were also trying to telepathically will Barcelona to just score again so they could win this without needing to go into extra time, because you wanted to see out this final but you knew you'd actually be having this baby in the stands if you waited that long.

Alba shot you a look and then one to Eli from behind you, the pair didn't believe you but would be keeping a very close eye on you from here on out. You rolled your eyes, you love them though, 'God you two, I'm fine,' You waved them both off.

Alba kept eyeing you suspiciously, she was not convinced in anyway and was prepared to have to drag you out of the stadium herself if it came down to that. She would not like to face her sister's wrath if anything happened to you or this baby.

Your poor Alexia, none the wiser to what is happening in the stands right now while she argues with the ref like the fate of this game depends on it. Well it probably does, you remember the roar of the crowd in disbelief when the ref gave a free to the other team in a spot they could've easily scored from. Like she'd been trying to help them win since this second half started, the crowd getting more loud as the game went on like that.

But Alexia, down on the pitch, she's just as fired up as the crowd is. Sharp gestures, hands up and palms out with disbelief written across her face while she's protesting yet another bad call from this ref. Her captain's armband tight around her bicep, jaw set and eyes holding this intensity that would normally have you squeezing your thighs together and trying to plan how you could make this riled up Alexia take it out on you.

The crowd erupts loudly at whatever decision Alexia is currently disputing. The noise vibrating through you, through the contraction that is very clearly stronger than the last one. The pressure constantly building and becoming uncomfortable.

Alexia just throws her hands up one last time before jogging back into position, still shaking her head. Your clueless Alexia, completely and blissfully clueless to her baby that is trying to make a dramatic entrance into this world.

Your breathing was deeper and less controlled and you were barely trying to hide how you were feeling because that was using up way too much energy you just didn't have in you anymore. Just when you were almost at the point of giving in and telling the two that were watching you like a hawk that you needed to leave. 

That's when a throug ball perfectly split the defence. Rolling straight into space and directly into Alexia's path. You could just feel the tension that suddenly filled the air, it became slightly dizzying the sudden adrenaline rush mixed with the contraction that decided to come on harder than any of the others in this moment.

Alexia of course, took the first touch beautifully, as if there was any doubt, 'Careful' Alba had a gentle hold on your arm because you were already halfway standing, you could just feel what was coming. You know that look on Alexia's face as the keeper comes out and she skilfully rounds them. 

The roar of the crowd and the chanting of Alexia's name is like no other when that ball rippled the back of the net. You were instantly on your feet the minute that ball went in. Of course it just had to be Alexia to get the winning goal in the dire last minutes of a final. 

You cheered, well tried to as best you could but the moment you fully got to your feet you were almost doubling over holding onto your stomach. Alba didn't even hesitate, it was as if she predicted this was going to happen. 

But you kept your eyes out on the pitch as best you could while you were being ushered out of the stands. You couldn't help the smile that was splitting your face, your entire being also beaming with so much pride watching Alexia get engulfed by her team out on that pitch after her goal. 

You pressed your forehead briefly to Alba's shoulder, 'Okay, sí, we're going,' 

But even as you said it, your mind drifted. Drifting to the thoughts of you being back in these stands, or well not these ones but back in a stadium with a small, wriggling baby in a little Barcelona kit with a tiny number matching her mami's. Your daughter balanced on your hip while Alexia scored and turned to the crowd.

Instead of blowing one kiss towards you like she normally does when she scores. She'd blow two. One for her wife and one for her niña. And the thought made your chest ache in a completely different way, making you smile despite the contraction currently squeezing tight around you.

You're finally ready to get to a hospital and meet your daughter.

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By the time any staff could get the word to Alexia the final whistle was already echoing through the stadium followed by an eruption of cheers and chants in the crowd and before Alexia knew it she was being jumped on by her teammates who were closest to her.

Barcelona had just won yet another champions league and everyone was over the moon celebrating with each other. Teammates all screaming, collapsing into each other, someone found a flag waving it around in everyone's faces, cameras all rushing towards each player and group.

Somehow through all the chaos and the madness Alexia managed to slip into a small unoccupied space where she could breathe and immediately turned to where you were supposed to be. Scanning the crowd.

Her eyebrows scrunched together, sure the stands were just a sea of blaugrana and maybe it would've been easy for you to get lost within it. But Alexia could pick you out in any crowd, you always said it was her superpower and you were never quite sure how she could do it, 'No matter how crowded the room is, you're always the first one I see,' 

So when she couldn't spot you, or her mum or her sister, her heart started to race and she was ignoring everyone turning quickly towards the bench where a staff member was making her way towards Alexia.

The noise of the stadium was still erupting around her, teammates shouting and cameras flashing but it all becomes distant background noise to Alexia. The sounds all muffled like her head had been pushed underwater. 

Alexia's ignoring the hands grabbing her shoulders in celebration, she's ignoring Patri trying to loop her arm around her neck. Instead shrugging her off and blindly ripping off the armband to shove into her hands without really looking. Leaving a confused Patri while she just keeps going towards the tunnel.

Breaking into a half jog that the staff member is trying to keep up with. Her ears are ringing and not from the noise of the stadium. There's only one thought in her head, well maybe two thoughts, but that's just you and your baby daughter. She doesn't even remember how she gets from the pitch to the car to the hospital it's all just a blur as her heart beats rapidly against her chest.

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'She's here?' Your head lifts at the sound of Alexia's voice, soft and a little timid like she didn't want to disturb the peaceful quiet that filled the room. 

Your eyes are heavy, half closed with exhaustion but the second you see her standing there in the doorway, something in you lightens up and also relaxes just that bit more. Alexia's presence was always so calming for you, and comforting which was something you needed more than ever right now.

Alexia hasn't moved since speaking, one hand still braced against the door like it's keeping her tethered to reality instead of getting lost in her head at the sight of you and her newborn daughter resting on your chest.

She just stands there, eyes so softly looking at the two of you. Her two girls. The new bundle of joy wrapped up in your arms. You nod slowly, 'She really just didn't want to wait, needed all the attention on her, very dramatic,' By the time you reached the hospital it all happened so quickly.

'Only because you left it to the very last minute to get here,' You'd almost forgotten Alba and Eli were in the room with you. They were the most amazing and since Alexia couldn't be there you were glad to have such supportive and loving people there with you. Even if Alba was now calling you out, 'Ale, your daughter was almost born in those stands. Two very dramatic girls on your hands now. Good luck,'

Alba laughed and playfully nudged Alexia's shoulder, shoving a clean hoodie into her hands to put over the top of her kit she was still wearing before moving aside so Eli could embrace her daughter in a tight, 'Mija, she's aboslutely beautiful,' Alexia's throat tightens, if her eyes weren't starting to get glassy they definitely were now.

A final squeeze of her shoulder and they made their way out the room to give you both the time you needed together with your daughter. When Alexia reaches you both she doesn't look at the baby first, her full attention is on you.

Your cheeks felt warm under her gaze, both her ands came to gently cup your face, 'You're okay?' Your smile softened with how much love and care for you was evident in her voice.

'Amor, I'm okay,' Your voice was soft and small but content and Alexia seemed convinced that you were okay. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead and letting her lips linger there for a minute while you leaned into her touch.

'What was Alba saying about this little one being born at the stadium?' Alexia finally sat on the seat next to the hospital bed, her hands now touching your arms just needing to be close to you. An amused smile on her face while her eyes were glued to your daughter resting in your arms.

'I thought we could make it to the end of the match,' You smiled sheepishly and Alexia could hear it in your voice.

'How far did you get?' Alexia assumed she already knew the answer but she asked anyway. 

'Well I saw your beautiful goal mi amor, but then she decided you'd had enough of the spotlight for today,' 

'Oh did you now,' Alexia was talking to your daughter, her hand timidly reaching out to adjust the little beanie on her head, fingers hovering beside her tiny head, still a little in disbelief she's allowed to touch something so small, so perfect, 'I guess that's okay, you are far more adorable and important,' 

'Ale,' You whined a little, 'You and your match is just as important and you won, sí?' You were a little pouty in your state of exhaustion.

Alexia softened and leaned her head against your shoulder before pressing a kiss right there, 'Sí, mi amor, we won,' Her hand that was resting against your arm was absentmindedly tracing patterns against your skin, a constant reassurance that this moment was real and not just made up in her imagination.

She had been dreaming of this moment for months now, what it would be like to see you holding your daughter, to actually see your daughter for the first time. No amount of daydreaming could ever compare to this moment, she needed to make sure it was really happening.

'It's okay if you want to go celebrate you know, like with your team and all,' You suddenly got a little insecure, feeling like you were keeping Alexia here, if you weren't so tired those thoughts would've never had a place in your mind but you couldn't keep the irrational thoughts at bay.

'Qué?' Alexia looks at you like you've grown an extra head. Her eyebrows scrunched together like you said the most outrageous thing. Which to her you have because where else would she want to be right now than here by your side.

'You won a really important final Ale,' You shrugged a little, 'It's a big deal,'

Alexia just stares at you, eyes flickering down to your daughter who was starting to wriggle a little. Even she agreed with Alexia that you were being silly, which is what Alexia was thinking making her smile even wider.

'Amor,' Her hand cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek, 'Why would I want to be anywhere else? You've just done the most amazing thing, you just had a baby…our baby. I already have my celebration right here,'

Your chest tightens a little at the way she says it, like it's the most certain thing in the world being here right now. Alexia just presses another soft kiss to your temple, lingering there for a second. You blink back the sudden burn in your eyes, 'Yeah?'

'Sí,'

A knock at the door and Alba appearing brought you both out of your little bubble, though Alexia did not move away from you at all, only turning her head to look towards the door, 'Not to interrupt anything but you have a waiting room full of people,' The look on Alba's face told you everything you needed to know, Alexia sighed softly.

'It kind of looks like…a children's birthday party exploded,' Alba tilts her head trying to think if that is even the right words to describe the chaos that's erupted in the waiting room of this hospital.

All you could think of was the poor staff trying to navigate their jobs with the loud gremlins, who have just won a champions league, invading the hospital. The thought made you snort and shake your head affectionately.

Alexia's closes her eyes briefly, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, 'No,'

'Oh yes,' Alba was happy to bask in the torment Alexia went through daily with some of these girls, 'It's absolute chaos out there. They tried to be quiet but Vicky stepped on a balloon and then almost took out a nurse. I'm surprised they weren't kicked out the minute they stepped in,'

'They always just look like they're up to no good, even before they've done anything,' You laughed out, your village may be full of chaos but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, 'They just want to meet her Ale,' You rested your head on Alexia's shoulder, a little yawn escaping past your lips, 'They want to meet their capi's baby,'

Alexia threw on the hoodie, already having made sure her hands were clean before she gently grabbed her daughter from your arms, 'Get some rest mi amor, you are absolutely perfect, thank you,' 

════════════════════════

Alba was not wrong when she was describing how the waiting room looked. Alexia's eyes widened in a mix of horror and amusement. There were bright pink and blue balloons and some confetti filled gold ones, every where. A banner that said 'Happy Graduation', another glittery banner that just didn't match anything else in the room.

The girls had stopped by a random corner store on the way to the hospital and grabbed anything that looked festive and colourful enough. There were little plushies, each one picked out their own, way too many plushies for one baby to need. Alexia's lips pressed together not really knowing how to process everything.

And in the middle of the plushie shrine was the champion's league trophy with Alexia's medal hanging off of it.

Loud chatter filled the otherwise empty hospital waiting room, though if you were there you would've joked that they just scared away anyone else who was there. But the minute Alexia came into view Cata was shushing everyone and the room became so quiet.

It almost felt eerie, Alexia can't recall if she's ever heard this group be as quiet as they are right now. All just quietly staring at Alexia holding her little baby girl. Some unshed tears that matched Alexia's own, some nervous hands holding tightly onto some balloons and plushies and other little gifts they found at this random store.

'Everyone,' Alexia's soft voice cut through the silence, 'Meet our little Amèlia,' She's holding her little baby so carefully but her face is so proud to be showing her off to the people that mean so much to her, the people that were going to be in this little baby's life for a long time.

One by one, or small groups at a time they didn't crowd but they came to have a better look at little Amèlia, cooing at how small she was and how cute. They all couldn't believe she was here and they got to be part of this moment. Seeing their captain become a mami was surely something so special and they would all carry with them for many years to come.

One by one it was all going perfect, until Vicky came through the sea of people stopping in front of Alexia and just looking straight at Amèlia in her arms, 'Hi,' Her voice was soft, 'I'm Vicky,' She smirked a little, briefly glancing at Alexia and then the others before looking back down at the tiny baby again, 'I'm your older sister,' 

Vicky is absolutely glowing, hands on her hips, proud smile on her face turning to look at the others, 'That's my little sister,' 

Laughter breaks through the group and soon enough Clara and Pina are squeezing their way past shoulders and balloons, nodding along with Vicky, 'Yeah! We're her big sisters,' Pina agreed.

'I'm sure she'll look just like me, so why confuse everyone in saying we aren't related,' Clara shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world and that it just made it all make sense.

You and life were never on the same page.

You used to think that was something people said to comfort themselves. A poetic excuse for missed chances and bad timing. Now it feels more like a diagnosis.

Life moved quickly. You didn’t.

Carla’s laugh fills the office as she scrolls through scheduled posts, her shoulder nudging yours like is always does. You smile automatically, fingers hovering over the trackpad, eyes trained on the screen. It’s easier this way. To stay useful, to stay focused.

Then the report comes in.

Fan content. Post-match. Pitch invasion.

You click before you can stop yourself.

The video is shaky, oversaturated, filmed by someone who can’t believe their luck. Alexia is there. Still in her kit, hair damp, grin unguarded. And in her arms is a little girl, cheeks flushed, tiny fingers fisted into the Barça crest like it belongs to her.

You don’t breathe until the video loops.

You understand why Alexia doesn’t post her. You really do. Some things deserve to be protected from the noise, from the opinions, from people like you who still notice how Alexia instinctively shields the child with her body.

Still, understanding doesn’t stop your chest from aching.

It’s been almost three years.

Life didn’t wait.

‘’Hey,’’ Carla says, tapping her pen lightly against the desk. ‘’Did you flag that last report already?’’

You blink.

The office comes back into focus slowly. The hum of computers, the muted clatter of keyboards, the faint echo of laughter drifting in from down the hall. Your screen still glows in front of you, the paused TikTok frozen on a frame you shouldn’t have memorized.

‘’Yes,’’ you say, voice steady enough. ‘’I reported it.’’

Carla nods, satisfied, already moving on to the next thing. “Good. We’ve had an increase in pitch-side content lately. Especially after wins.” She hesitates, then adds more softly, “You know how Alexia feels about that.”

You do.

You always do.

Your cursor drifts to the notes section automatically, fingers typing what they’ve typed a hundred times before. Minor, visible child, privacy concerns, request for removal. It’s clinical. Detached. Safe.

Carla leans closer to your screen. “Can you also check if it’s been reposted anywhere else? Twitter, maybe Instagram stories.”

‘’Yeah,’’ you answer. ‘’I’ll take care of it.’’

She smiles at you, warm and grateful. ‘’Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.’’

If only that were true.

Once she turns back to her own work, the quiet returns, the kind that lets your thoughts slip through the cracks. You stare at the reflection in your screen instead of the content, watching your own face blur into the background.

Alexia had always been like that. Protective to the point of obsession. Back when it was just the two of you, she used to say she didn’t want the world touching anything that mattered too much. You remember thinking it was romantic.

Now it just feels like distance.

You open another tab, scrolling though recent uploads with the efficiency of someone who knows exactly what to look for. Tiny sneakers on grass. A familiar laugh just out of frame. A hand, Alexia’s hand, instinctively shielding a face the camera never quite catches.

You report them all.

Each click feels like erasing proof that time kept moving without you.

‘’Everything okay?’’ Carla asks without looking up.

You swallow, forcing your focus back into your body. ‘’Yeah,’’ you say. ‘’Just… a lot to go through.’’

She hums in understanding. ‘’Tell me about it.’’

You let the silence settle again, professional and practiced. Your job is to protect the club. To protect the players. To protect Alexia’s boundaries. Even now, even like this.

Your chest tightens, but your hands don’t shake.

You finish the reports, close the tabs, and minimize the damage the best way you know how.

Still, long after the videos are gone, the image lingers. Alexia on the pitch, a child in her arms, a future that arrived without asking if you were ready. Without asking if you want to join that future.

And you sit there, in the office, doing your job perfectly.

Thinking maybe you always have.

By the time you leave the office, the sky is already bruising into the night.

You walk home instead of taking the metro. It’s not far, and you tell yourself the air might help. Like movement could dislodge something that’s been stuck in your chest for years.

Your phone buzzes just as you’re unlocking your apartment door.

Carla.

For a second, your stomach drops. You run through your mental checklist automatically. Scheduled posts, analytics report, tomorrow’s match content. You answer before the guilt can settle.

‘’Hey,’’ you say. ‘’Did I forget something?’’

There’s a pause on the other end. Not long, but intentional.

‘’No,’’ Carla replies. ‘’I mean, no work’s fine.’’

You kick off your shoes, toeing them toward the wall. ‘’Okay.’’

Another pause.

‘’I just wanted to check on you,’’ she says, gentler now. ‘’You were… quiet today.’’

‘’I’m fine,’’ you say automatically.

Carla doesn’t call you out on it. She never does. ‘’You don’t have to be.’’

You sink onto the edge of the couch, phone pressed to your ear, ceiling staring back at you like it might have answers. Your apartment still looks the same as it did three years ago. Neutral, unfinished, like you never fully moved in.

‘’It’s been three years,’’ you say finally, voice low. ‘’Three. And I still feel like I’m waiting for something that already happened.’’

Carla stays quiet. Lets you have the space.

‘’I don’t get it,’’ you continue, worlds tumbling out now that the door’s cracked open. ‘’I really don’t. She moved on like it was nothing. Like we were nothing. And not even just moved on. She went back.’’

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. ‘’Back to her. Of all people.’’

You pace through your living room, dragging a hand through your hair. ‘’She controls everything. What Alexia wears, where she goes. Those awful bleach-blonde phases that didn’t even look like her. The vacations to countries where women can barely breathe, let alone live freely. And everyone just pretends it’s romantic.’’

Your voice tightens. ‘’And I know – I know I sound bitter. I know it’s not my place anymore. But it hurts to watch someone you love choose something that dims her.’’

Carla exhales softly. ‘’You’re not bitter. You’re grieving.’’

You stop pacing.

‘’She only ever cared about the money,’’ you whisper. ‘’The status. And Alexia… Alexia deserves better than someone who treats her like a brand instead of a person.’’

There’s a beat of silence. Then Carla says carefully, ‘’You loved her.’’

You close your eyes.

‘’I still do,’’ you admit. ‘’And I hate that about myself.’’

The line goes quiet again. Not empty, just full.

‘’You don’t have to be over it on a schedule,’’ Carla says. ‘’Life doesn’t work like that.’’

You swallow, thinking of earlier. Of the pitch. Of the child.

‘’Life seems to work just fine without me,’’ you murmer. ‘’After all, this is what a pathetic woman looks like,’’ you whisper. ‘’It’s me.’’

Carla exhales on the other end of the line, slow and deliberate. ‘’That’s not true,’’ she says. ‘’That’s just what it feels like when you’re standing still.’’

You let out a quiet, humoreless laugh. ‘’I don’t feel like I’m standing still. I feel like I’m being left behind.’’

‘’Those aren’t the same thing,’’ Carla replies gently.

You sink further into the couch, curling one leg beneath you. ‘’Everyone keeps telling me time helps. That is dulls the stings. But it hasn’t. It just made me better at pretending I’m okay.’’

Carla hums in acknowledgment. ‘’You’re very good at that.’’

‘’I have to be,’’ you say. ‘’It’s my job. I literally manage narratives for a living.’’

There’s a faint smile in her voice. ‘’Yeah. You do.’’

You stare at the dark window across the room, your reflection faint in the glass. ‘’Sometimes I think… maybe if I had been different. Less patient. Less understanding. Maybe she wouldn’t have walked away.

Carla doesn’t let that sit. ‘’No.’’

The firmness in her tone makes you blink.

‘’You didn’t lose her because you weren’t enough,’’ she continues. ‘’You lost her because she was scared of choosing something real.’’

Your throat tightens. ‘’She said she needed stability.’’

‘’And she went back to something familiar,’’ Carla says. ‘’That’s not the same thing.’’

Silence stretches again, but this time it’s warmer. Safer.

‘’I miss who she was with me,’’ you admit quietly. ‘’Or maybe I miss who I was with her.’’

Carla softens. ‘’Both can be true.’’

You nod, even though she can’t see it. “I just don’t understand how she built a whole life so fast. A child. A marriage. Like we never existed.”

Carla hesitates. “People don’t always build lives because they’re happy,” she says carefully. “Sometimes they build them because they’re afraid to be alone.”

The words land heavier than you expect.

“I don’t think she’s happy,” you whisper.

“No,” Carla agrees. “I don’t think so either.”

You close your eyes, phone warm against your ear. “And that makes it worse. Because I don’t get to hate her. I just… worry.”

Carla sighs. “That’s love. The inconvenient kind.”

A small, tired smile pulls at your lips. “Figures.”

“You’re allowed to still care,” Carla adds. “You’re just not allowed to disappear because of it.”

You breathe that in. Let it settle.

“I’m trying,” you say honestly.

“I know,” she replies. “And for what it’s worth? You’re not invisible. Not to me. Not to the people who actually see you.”

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Your phone buzzes before your alarm does.

Carla: Morning. Can you try to come in early today? There’s a meeting.

You frown at the screen, still half-buried under your blanket.

Who’s the meeting with? You type back.

The typing bubbles appears. Disappears. Then:

Carla: I’ll explain when you get here. Please don’t be late.

That alone is enough to set your pulse off.

Carla always tells you who. Players, sponsors, management. She believes in preparation. This feels… different. Heavy.

You throw on clothes, grab your bag, and step outside to be met with rain coming down sideways aggressive and unapologetic. Public transport crawls. Your shoes are soaked through by the time you reach the building, breathless and ten minutes late.

You hate that you’re late.

You push open the meeting room door without knocking.

Everyone turns.

Carla sits closer to the door, her expression tightening with relief when she sees you. Next to her is your manager. Across the table, Carla’s manager with on their side Barcelona Feminí coach Pere who is sitting stiff-backed with his hands folded. And then –

Alexia.

Seated beside her is the woman you recognize instantly, even though you’ve never spoken to her directly. She’s dressed sharply, posture rigid, one hand resting possessively against the back of Alexia’s chair.

Girlfriend. Wife. You don’t know. Mother of their child, that’s for sure. But the distinction feels suddenly irrelevant.

‘’Lo siento,’’ you say quickly, rain still clinging to your jacket. ‘’The weather – ‘’

‘’We’ll get started,’’ the woman cuts in, not even looking at you. Then she does. Her gaze sharpens. ‘’Actually, no. You.’’

Her finger lifts, pointing straight at your chest.

‘’You didn’t do your job.’’

The room goes very still.

You blink once, then straighten. ‘’Excuse me?’’

‘’One of the videos,’’ she snaps. ‘’’The one with my daughter. It’s still circulating. On international platforms. Do you have any idea how unacceptable that is?’’

Your manager shifts. ‘’We did issue takedowns – ‘’

‘’And clearly they weren’t enough,’’ she interrupts. ‘’If she’’ – another pointed gesture in your direction – ‘’were competent, this wouldn’t have happened.’’

You feel it then. The heat rising. Fast and unwelcome.

‘’I followed protocol,’’ you say evenly. ‘’I flagged, reported, and escalated every instance we found.’’

‘’Then explain why it’s still out there.’’

Before you can respond, she keeps going, voice growing sharper. ‘’Alexia has made it very clear she doesn’t want our child exposed. This is about safety. Privacy. And frankly, professionalism.’’

You glance, just once, at Alexia.

She hasn’t looked at you. Her jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the table. Hands clasped together like she’s holding herself still.

Something in you snaps, not loudly, but completely.

‘’With respect,’’ you say, the words controlled but no longer gentle, ‘’putting a child on the pitch in front of sixty thousand people will always carry risk.’’

Her head jerks toward you. ‘’How dare you –‘’

“I’m not blaming anyone,” you continue, firmer now. “But fans film everything. From every angle. Content spreads faster than we can catch it. I do my job. I take it seriously. But I’m not omnipotent.”

The silence is deafening.

Carla looks between you and Alexia, her mouth set tight. Pere clears his throat but says nothing. It’s clear that this is a very awkward conversation.

You swallow, forcing yourself to stay upright. “I understand wanting to protect your child. I truly do. That’s why I reported every video I saw. That’s why I stayed late. That’s why I followed up. But I can’t control the entire internet.”

The woman scoffs. “Sounds like excuses.”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides. “Sounds like reality.”

Alexia finally moves.

Her head lifts just slightly. Enough for you to see her expression. Tired. Closed off. Still silent.

That hurts more than anything else said in the room.

Your manager interjects quickly, voice strained. “Let’s take a breath. This isn’t productive.”

But the damage is already done.

You stand there, soaked and shaking. Not from the cold. But from realizing that no matter how well you do your job, no matter how carefully you protect her boundaries, you will always be the easiest person to blame.

And Alexia lets it happen.

Carla clears her throat beside you, softly enough that no one else hears. “Come on,” she says, gently steering you toward the door. “Let’s step out for a second.”

You follow, shoulders tight, wet hair plastered to your face. Outside the room, the hallway is quieter. The faint hum of fluorescent lights is the only sound.

“You okay?” Carla asks, her voice low.

You shake your head slightly, blinking rapidly. “I… I don’t know,” you admit. “It’s never enough. No matter what I do.”

Carla sighs. “I know. I know it feels impossible sometimes.”

You glance down the corridor, thinking of Alexia sitting at the table, silent, distant. “She doesn’t even look upset at this,” you murmur.

“Not really. Like it’s… it’s not about the situation at all.”

Carla’s hand brushes yours, subtle, grounding. “Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s… other things.”

You swallow, heart tight, throat raw. You want to argue, want to demand, want to scream. But you just nod. There’s nothing you can do about what’s behind her eyes.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The rain outside has slowed to a drizzle, but the tension in your chest doesn’t ease.

Eventually, Carla lets go and says, “You did everything you could. That’s all anyone can ask.”

You manage a weak, humorless smile. “I wish it felt like enough.”

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The rest of the day drags on like thick syrup.

By the time evening comes, the office feels miles away, and you feel hollow. As if the meeting left a permanent weight on your chest. You decide you need to get out, to be somewhere that isn’t tied to schedules or screens or people expecting answers.

You slip into a small, exclusive bar tucked into a quiet street.

It isn’t full. Just a few scattered tables, the soft clink of glasses, and the low hum of conversation. You choose a stool at the corner, the kind that gives you a view of the room without being seen. You order a drink, something warm, and slide your phone from your pocket.

Notifications. Work emails. Nothing urgent. Until one alert sticks out, blinking at you like a warning:

BREAKING NEWS: FC Barcelona captain Alexia Putellas has reportedly filed for divorce earlier today, sources confirm.

Your breath catches. The glass trembles slightly in your hand. Your head snaps down to read it again, just to make sure, but the words don’t change.

And then you hear it.

A laugh. Low, familiar, slightly slurred.

Your head lifts.

Across the room, framed by the dim golden light, is Alexia. Her hair is loose, messy at the ends. Her eyes, wide and unguarded, catch yours for just a second. She’s clearly drunk, swaying slightly as she leans on the bar. She didn't see you. Didn't take it in.

The world tilts, a dizzying mix of disbelief, anger, and something you can’t name.

She’s here.

And for a moment, it feels like everything you’ve been holding in, all the unanswered questions and bruised moments, are about to collide.

You freeze, drink halfway to your lips, and your pulse spikes.

And that’s where the night waits, heavy and unresolved.

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A – Aftercare:

Very tender and considerate. Mindful of you and whatever you might need. Will help you clean up, get you settled into bed (if appropriate), make sure you're hydrated, cuddle you if that's what you want, etc.. Her care for you extends well beyond the sex itself.

B – Body Part:

She loves the curve of your waist. The sight of it, whether the subtle outline of it under your shirt or otherwise, sends a rush through her. But even better, it's where she can rest a hand when you're standing together somewhere or relaxing on the couch together. And, of course, it's where she can grip you when she's bouncing you on her strap/cock.

On a cheesier note, she loves your eyes.

As for what she's most proud of on her own body - her legs, more specifically, her thighs. She loves how much you love them and how her flexing them, intentionally or not, works you right up.

C – Climax:

This evolves depending on how deep into the relationship she is. Initially, her climax is quiet and restrained. After she feels more comfortable - and likely after coaxing and reassurance from you - she lets her walls down and it's much more visceral.

Non-G!P: Nothing crazy loud, but moans, maybe a small yell or cry if things are really intense. Back arching off the bed and gripping the sheets as you bring her to a shuddering climax.

G!P: A bit more visceral here. Not being able to control or hold back how good it feels to be inside you. Burying herself deep and grunting as she cums hard and spills inside you.

D – Dirty Talk:

Surprises herself with how much she likes dirty talk. It catches her off-guard the first time you do it, but from there she's a very willing accomplice.

Breathless praise, possessive, filthy confessions, teasing taunts, and quiet whimpers of adoration and devotion.

Nothing derogatory though.

E – Experience:

Not very experienced, but well-read. Attentive and eager to please. Not as good about communicating what she wants, but is much more focused on bringing you pleasure instead, anyway.

F – Favourite Position:

Loves any position that results in you losing complete control. Takes a lot of pride in and it gives her pleasure to know she's the one making you fall apart. Is partial to missionary because of how intimate it is - she can easily see every little microexpression on your face as your pleasure builds. Yet, she's nearly as happy pounding you into the mattress from behind and seeing you writhe and claw helplessly at the bed as you pant and moan her name.

G – Goofy:

Not initially. At least nothing intentional. She's prone to laughing when there's awkwardness or discomfort, so she laughs self-consciously, even self-deprecatingly the first couple of times, but it's not the kind of laugh that relaxes things.

You need to soothe her and reassure her that it's okay - you're learning about each other, it's totally fine. Then she relaxes and her laughs are genuine and you two can actually be a bit goofy and flirty even when things aren't perfect.

H – Hair:

She doesn't care at all how you choose to keep your hair. Your body, your choice lol.

If anything, if you spend a lot of time/money maintaining things, she'd probably double-check that you're doing it for your own preference and make sure that you're not doing it for her, because it's certainly not a necessity for her.

I – Intimacy:

Not one for casual sex, so if she's having sex with you, it's because she feels deeply for you. Sex is an intimate expression of how she feels about you and what you two have together.

Can feel a bit 'technical' the first few times while she's getting comfortable, but only because she's so concerned about making sure you feel good. Overly considerate instead of really just being in the moment with you.

Eventually though, it's like an act of devotion and worship.

Not great with eye contact in everyday life, but the way she looks at you during sex completely unravels you. She clutches you and presses herself against you like she can't get close enough to you.

J – Jill Off / Just Herself:

Masturbates far more once you're an item. Her desire for you awakens something within her that was dormant or under control before.

The more she loves you and misses you (when she's away), the more desperate she gets. Extra long showers on the road; subtle, careful movements under the blanket when she's certain her roommate's asleep.

Convinces you to let her take a few select pictures, even a few short videos, of you and she lives and breathes by them when you're not around. It gets so bad that she finds her mind replaying them when she's supposed to be paying attention during team briefings.

She's so unlike herself. You make her feral, but she loves it. Not that you know. She keeps it under wraps for a long time and even when she eventually shares, she's shy and embarrassed about it despite how sexy you think it is. Finds even more release and inspiration by how worked up it gets you and she embraces it.

K – Kinks:

Very into praise, whether she's being dominant or submissive to you. Knowing she's making you feel good and doing just what you need drives her wild and spurs her on. If you're taking control and you praise her, it makes her melt and whimper.

This carries into overstimulation. She loves bringing you over the edge and can get carried away with doing it again and again and again. Knowing that she can pleasure you until you're at the point of mindbreak, your body shaking and weak, makes her smug and prideful.

Which transitions into possession. She may not have the same aura or rizz as some of her teammates or other people in your life, but she'll be damned if you ever feel unsatisfied. She knows how to make you fall apart until you're a stammering, breathless mess and she makes certain that you never forget that she's the one who can do that.

She doesn't need others to know that she can fuck you silly. But she wants to be confident that when you're in a room full of people and potential partners, your eyes fall to her and you pulse with need, knowing who you belong to and what she can - and will - do for you.

L – Location:

Mostly within the privacy of your own apartment. The bed for the most part. The couch sometimes, but she's also fucked you against a wall when things have been really needy and desperate.

She swore she'd never have sex in a public place, but you've driven her so wild on occasion that she's broken her own rule here and there because she couldn't resist you.

M – Moans:

Initially quiet and reserved until she feels totally safe and accepted. Then, it's breathy gasps, low moans, and needy whimpers scattered between whispers of praise and dirty confessions.

N – Nudes:

Would never want to send them. Doesn't even like sending you a regular selfie, never mind anything x-rated.

Definitely wants them from you though. Is too shy to ask for them. You send one to her and it opens the floodgates.

O – Oral:

Giving: Fully committed and eager to taste you and devour you. Buries her face between your legs and buzzes with exhilaration when your legs lock around her head with pleasure. Laps you up; sucks and flicks you to a climax with steadfast devotion. Often ends with you having to push her head away because she's always eager for more.

Receiving:

Non-G!P: Relatively quiet, but lost in the sensation. Feels such a flurry of emotions and desire when she looks down and sees your head between her legs. Tenderly strokes the side of your face, runs her fingers through your hair with every intention of being gentle until her climax approaches. Gentle caresses turn into tight-fisted tugs against your hair as she bucks into your mouth.

G!P: Very much like the above. Doesn't want you to ever feel like this is a derogatory act. Even if she pushing her hips into your mouth, her cock nudging down your throat, she wants to be mindful of you and not hurt you. Certainly not one to get off on making you gag and see your mascara running down your face - she'd be mortified. Very much tries to avoid that and lets you take the lead instead. Always checks on you after she spills herself down your throat.

You asked her to cum on your face one time and she really struggled with the act. Verifies a couple of times leading up to it, even as she's on the absolute brink. Apologizes immediately after. Almost urgently helps you clean up right away.

P – Pace:

Pace definitely depends on context and mood. Prefers to take her time, not having to rush. Inclined to tease you and draw things out until you're dripping wet and pleading for her.

However, there are times when you two are so needy for one another that it's just primal and desperate. While she's normally very tender and mindful, when things get super heated like that, she gets a bit rough with you. Not that you mind.

Q – Quickie:

When things call for a quickie, it's still intimate. You never leave feeling used or discarded. The opposite, you feel desired and even smug. Someone as disciplined as Jessie couldn't restrain herself and had to have you - now. Her hands wandering across you, caressing you in adoration as she whispers affirmations and pinings against your skin.

G!P: especially desperate. Needy whimpers and vulnerable proclamations as she ruts into you, holding onto you so tightly as if you're the only thing anchoring her. Until her breaths grow ragged and unsteady as she pumps desperately into you, breathless warnings that she's close before driving herself deep - pushing you up the bed, up the wall, wherever you may be - as she grunts and pours herself inside you.

R – Risk:

Not overly adventurous. Open to trying most things at least once if you want it though.

G!P: Quickies and desperation get the best of her when it comes to you. She knows better - a lot better - than to cum inside a girl unprotected. But, you just looked so incredible tonight, and the way you looked at her, the way you laughed, the way your fingers grazed her, she just can't help herself.

It starts with making out; her length growing and straining inside her pants and your teasing touch does nothing to relief her desperation. She undresses you both while you continue to kiss; you spread your legs and she instinctively settles herself between them, her length probing unruly at your entrance. Hungry kisses continue as you both subtly grind in need against one another, the tip of her cock threatening to push inside.

Whispers of half-hearted cautions and intentions fall from your lips and hers, but are wasted breaths as the roll of your hips spurs her on and her resolve fails. She slips inside your dripping entrance and it feels like heaven. She know she should pull out; the longer she stays inside you, the greater the risk. But some primal urge inside her propels her on until she pinning you to the mattress as she pounds into you, you mewling and panting for her, until she explodes inside you with a near yell.

For someone so risk adverse, you letting her enter you unprotected, to having you tell her to cum inside you despite the consequences it could have for you (and her...) gives her a shamefully incredible thrill.

S – Stamina:

You shouldn't have been surprised by her stamina. Her work rate on the field is unmatched; no matter how long and hard a game is, she's the last one running.

Still, every time you think you two were done - and she does graciously give you breaks - she's eager to please you again. It's not entirely uncommon for you to lose track of how many orgasms she gives you any given day or night.

You often wake up sore and stiff the next day and though you facetiously guilt-trip her about it, you adored it and already know you'll let her do the same to you again soon. She apologizes half-heartedly, knowing the truth, and instead feels a small trill of excitement over the recollection of how insatiable you two were.

As much as you love it and she pleases you so well, sometimes you need to actually be firm with her that you only have time for one round before you need to get on with your day (or get some sleep).

T – Toys:

Non-G!P: Loves strapping you down. Though she adores fingering you; feeling you pool in her palm and the way your tight warmth feels around her fingers, she loves the way a strap frees her up to make love to you the way she wants. Open to other toys too if you want them, but nothing too kinky.

G!P: Less so. Likes it being just you two - nothing else. That said, if you wanted to use a vibrator or anything, she wouldn't be threatened; happy to give you what you need.

U – Unusual:

Her own possessiveness catches her off guard. Is used to people coming and going out of her life in one way or another, so is surprised when she finds herself getting turned on by possessive thoughts and proclamations when it comes to you. Wants you to herself and to make you hers and hers alone.

V – Volume:

Rarely loud. Adores it when you get loud though. Not performative - that's an ick for her - but she adores when you can't control your moans, your whimpers, your hitched breaths while she pleasures you.

W – Wild Card:

Duality. Is your puppy dog in everyday llfe. People can't help but tease her over it - you have her absolutely whipped even if you are a benevolent girlfriend.

Behind closed doors though, it's not uncommon for her to top you and control you. She takes charge, moves you to her will and doesn't stop until you can hardly think straight. It's all with the goal of fucking you so good there's zero room to doubt that you're hers. Her dominant side comes out most when you're being bratty - challenging her, teasing her. But even when she does, she's confident it's what you want and there's an underlying love and tenderness regardless of if she's fucking you like a ragdoll right off the bed or murmuring about how you take her cock so well - you both adore it.

X – X-Rated:

Not into porn. Erotic fiction though?? She mostly just prefers dirty texts, photos or videos from you.

Y – Yearning:

She's in denial about how clingy she is when she misses you. Tries to mask it or dismiss it. Even gets a bit moody sometimes because she can't regulate her emotions well enough.

Once she finally embraces it though, she's sheepishly to unabashedly clingy. Doesn't have time to text you much, but is pouty when she gets back to her phone and you haven't texted her. Loves any and all messages from you, but adores teasing and wanting texts. She's not around all that often, so knowing that you still want her and look to her for relief even when she's away is just so validating and satisfying for her.

Even though she gets so bashful and embarrassed, loves late-night calls with you. Tries to control the way her face burns red hot when you start whispering naughty things knowing full well her roommate's a few feet away and - perhaps - none the wiser to the filthy things you're telling her.

Loves the way you tease her, knowing she'll get you back and then-some once she returns home.

Z – Zzz: