Just doing this for fun, don't really know what I'm doing, requests and feedback are very much welcomed but no promises I'll actually do anything with them. Lots of fluff, lots bad Spanish translations. Almost all of them have a mix of Barça players in them, rarely is it truly just the one person.
Aitana Bonmati:
Perfect (love language series- quality time)
Annoying (adhd!reader)
Goodnight, mi Tana (adhd!reader)
You always help (adhd!reader)
Overworked
Alexia Putellas:
Embarrassing
Stressed
your opinion of me won't change, right? Part 2- it always gets ugly
You know I love you (love language series- words of affirmation)
Close your eyes
That awkward smile Part 2- Stares of admiration Part 3- I'm scared. Part 4- you’ll be okay
Superstar
Let me take care of you (teen!reader)
Keeping Secrets (pina x putellas!reader) Pt.2- Tough conversations (Pina x putellas!reader) Pt.3- Doing something stupid (pina x putellas!reader) Pt.4- I’ve got you (Pina x putellas!reader) Pt.5- I still need you (Pina x putellas!reader)
Dog person Pt.2- Cat person
Would you still love me
We’ll take care of it (teen!reader)
I'll be home for christmas
Gingerbread and superglue
Getting angry
Merry and bright
Cata Coll:
Let me spoil you (love language series- gifts)
See you care
Batman
Drowning
Claudia Pina:
Off day
Useless Pt.2 Pt.3
Sleepy
Keeping Secrets (pina x putellas!reader) Pt.2- Tough conversations (Pina x putellas!reader) Pt.3- Doing something stupid (pina x putellas!reader) Pt.4- I’ve got you (Pina x putellas!reader) Pt.5- I still need you (Pina x putellas!reader)
Spanish or dating
Polar opposites or not
Jessie Fleming:
Dropout
Kika Nazareth:
Fix it all
Lover (Love Her)
Mapi León:
Distractions
Silent Communications (love language series- physical touch)
The wall Pt. 2 Pt. 3 (teen!reader)
Can't do this anymore
Bored
Bad dreams
Misa Rodriguez:
Hold still
Ona Batlle:
Stop smirking at me I'm mad at you
I'm fine.
Birthday tears
Every step of the way
Patri Guijarro:
Going soft on us?
Broken (love language series- acts of service)
Drunk and not in love Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4
Nails
The hangover
Tags I use:
Reading recs: #kt reading recs
Other peoples masterlists: #kt’s faves
All of my writing: #wosoreading24/7
My random stream of consciousness thoughts: #kt chats
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people throwing tempter tantrums because alexia wants to finish her career at a club where she’ll feel less pressure is genuinely so pathetic like get over yourselvesssss im so sick of it
The door closes behind Patri with a muted click, and her body moves before her thoughts catch up. Shoes nudged aside, keys set down out of habit, her mind already ticking through what comes next. Groceries to put away. Laundry to fold. Dinner to start. It’s automatic—less a plan than a reflex—her brain shifting gears the way it always does after training, after noise, after being told where to be and what to give.
She steps further into the apartment, already halfway toward the kitchen, when she registers you.
Not calling out. Not waiting expectantly. Just there, close and unhurried, like you’ve been there the whole time.
She slows without meaning to.
You don’t ask her anything. Don’t ask how practice went or whether she’s tired or what she wants to eat. You just open your arms, an invitation rather than a request, and Patri lets herself step into it.
The hug stills her more effectively than she expects. Her forehead dips near your neck, your arms settling around her with a familiarity that doesn’t ask permission. For a moment, her mind keeps moving anyway—still running the list, still reaching for momentum.
Then she notices.
The laundry folded neatly on the chair, stacked in careful piles she recognizes as yours. The counter clear, grocery bags gone, everything already where it belongs. The quiet hum of the apartment telling her, gently, that nothing is waiting on her.
The realization lands slowly, like her body needs time to accept it.
There is nothing she needs to do before she can rest.
She exhales, deep and steady, and lets herself stay exactly where she is. Lets the list dissolve. Lets the stillness hold.
You don’t comment on it. You never do.
And for the first time since she walked in, Patri isn’t thinking about what comes next. She’s just here.
Patri had spent most of her life believing that love, like football, came with conditions. You earned it by being useful, by being good enough, by staying on the pitch. That belief had followed her everywhere—into locker rooms and hotel hallways, into the quiet of her apartment—until it didn’t. Until you started showing up in her kitchen as if you’d always been meant to be there.
She stands at the stove, wooden spoon in hand, stirring something that has already started to smell like dinner. Olive oil pops softly in the pan, a familiar sound she barely notices anymore. There had been a time when moments like this would have made her restless—standing still, doing something ordinary, waiting for something else to demand her attention. Back then, stillness had felt like wasted time. Love had felt the same way. Something you had to earn through effort, through usefulness, through showing up correctly and often enough that no one questioned why you were there. Patri learned early how to be needed. She’d never been taught how to simply be chosen. And yet here you are, sitting on the edge of her counter like this space has never required permission, like her worth isn’t tied to what she can give or how well she performs. The realization doesn’t arrive loudly. It settles. Quiet and steady, the way you always do.
Behind her, you sit on the edge of the counter, one leg bent, the other swinging lazily—close enough that every so often your heel brushes her hip on purpose.
“You’re hovering,” Patri says without looking back.
“I prefer the term supervising.”
She snorts. “You don’t even know what I’m making.”
“I know you’re making enough for three people,” you say mildly. “Which means you’re either optimistic or deeply overestimating my appetite.”
Patri glances over her shoulder, catches the look on your face, and smiles despite herself. “You complain every time,” she says. “And then you eat all of it.”
“That’s not a contradiction,” you reply. “That’s commitment.”
She shakes her head, laughter slipping out of her before she can stop it as she turns back to the stove. It’s easy like this. Effortless. The kind of quiet familiarity that doesn’t need to be named to exist. You don’t ask about training or recovery or how her body feels today. You don’t ask her to explain herself. You never do. You just stay. Close enough to touch. Close enough to matter.
She reaches for the salt and misses it, distracted by the way you’re watching her—not expectant, not waiting for anything, just present. Patri pauses, spoon hovering mid-stir, the kitchen settling into a stillness she hasn’t asked for but doesn’t push away.
“You’re staring,” you say, amused.
“You’re distracting,” she counters.
You tilt your head, considering her. “I’m literally sitting still.”
“That’s the problem.”
You laugh then, soft and unguarded, and hop down from the counter to steal an olive from the cutting board. Patri watches you move through her space like it’s already familiar to you—opening drawers without asking, leaning against the counter like you’ve done it a hundred times before.
“Hey,” she says automatically. “Those are for—”
“For tasting,” you finish, popping it into your mouth. “Quality control.”
She sighs, long-suffering, but there’s no heat in it. Only the quiet relief of not having to defend the small things.
You lean back against the counter beside her, close enough that your shoulder brushes her arm. Patri shifts the pan off the heat, more careful now, and lets her free hand come to rest at your hip without thinking about it, thumb hooked lightly at your side like it belongs there. She lets herself stand there for a second longer than necessary. Lets herself notice how natural it feels to have you there. How little effort it takes. How strange that something so steady has found its way into a life that’s always felt defined by motion.
It strikes her then—not sharply, not all at once—but with the familiar weight of a thought she’s been carrying for a while now.
How someone so steady, so unassuming, so quietly extraordinary, has ended up with her.
Dinner ends up spread across the small table by the window, plates mismatched, glasses already half empty. Patri eats slower than you do, mostly because she keeps stopping—listening, watching, letting your presence fill the space without needing to comment on it.
You talk about your day. About something small. Something forgettable. You tell it like it matters anyway, and Patri nods along, even when she isn’t entirely sure how the story started.
At some point, you steal food from her plate without asking.
“That was mine,” she says, looking down at the missing piece and then up at you. “You hesitated.”
“That’s not—” She stops, sighs, and reaches for your fork, reclaiming a bite from your plate instead. “This is why I can’t trust you.”
You hum thoughtfully. “And yet, you keep feeding me.”
She smiles at that, soft and helpless, and doesn’t bother arguing.
When you finish, you move without being asked—stacking plates, carrying them to the sink. Patri watches you go, the quiet domestic competence of it still catching her off guard. You never make a show of helping. You never frame it as a favor. You just do it. Like being here is enough of a reason.
“You don’t have to—” she starts, automatically.
“I know,” you say, glancing over your shoulder.
The word lands gently, without edge. Not dismissive. Just certain.
By the time Patri reaches the kitchen, you’re already running water, sleeves pushed up, hands submerged. She steps in close behind you, close enough that your back meets her chest, and lets her arms settle around your waist without thinking about it. Your hands pause for half a second before resuming their steady rhythm, like this is exactly where she’s meant to be.
Patri rests her chin near your shoulder, breath warm against your neck, and something in her chest loosens—not because she’s being held, but because she isn’t being asked. She’s spent years being necessary: to a system, to a team, to expectations that always came with instructions. Needed had always meant useful. Measurable. Replaceable if she faltered. But here, with your hands in the sink and her arms around your middle, there’s no task she’s fulfilling. No role she’s performing. You don’t turn to her for help. You don’t ask her to take over. You just let her stay, pressed close, like her presence alone is already enough. The difference settles slowly, quietly. Wanted doesn’t demand anything from her. Wanted just keeps her.
She leans in and presses a quiet kiss just below your ear—barely there, more habit than intention—and lets it linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
You tilt your head slightly, a silent acknowledgement, and keep washing.
When the rack starts to fill, Patri pulls back with a soft exhale, fingers slipping from your waist as she reaches for a towel. She moves beside you instead, shoulder to shoulder now, drying the dishes you pass her. Your fingers brush more than necessary. Neither of you comments on it.
When the last plate is set aside, there’s no rush to move away.
The kitchen feels smaller somehow. Warmer.
You turn slightly toward her, close enough that her hands—still holding the towel—rest against your hips by accident. Patri lets them stay there. Lets her thumbs hook the way they always do, familiar and grounding.
“You tired?” you ask quietly.
“A little,” she admits.
You hum, then lean in to press a brief kiss just below her jaw. Not lingering. Not dramatic. Just there.
Patri exhales, slow and steady, and rests her forehead against yours for a moment. This is what it feels like when nothing is being taken from her. When she isn’t performing or proving or holding herself together for the sake of something else. Just standing in her own kitchen, dishes done, arms loose around someone who knows her well enough to stay.
“Come sit with me,” you say.
It isn’t a request.
And Patri follows you without hesitation.
The couch creaks softly when you sit, legs tucking beneath you without ceremony. Patri barely has time to settle before you reach back for her hand, giving it a small, familiar tug that draws her closer. She goes without question.
You shift then, fitting yourself between her legs, back resting against her chest like it’s always known where to go. Patri exhales the moment you settle, the sound low and unguarded, and her legs adjust instinctively around you.
Her arms come around you easily, one crossing your middle, the other following a second later. Her hand settles at your hip, warm and steady, thumb beginning its slow, absent circles like it’s been doing this forever.
Settled like this, with your weight resting fully against her and her arms loose around your middle, Patri becomes aware of something that used to live constantly under her skin—the quiet anticipation of loss. It isn’t there anymore. There was a time when closeness made her brace without realizing she was doing it, as if love required vigilance, as if comfort was something temporary she had to hold carefully before it slipped away. She used to wait for the moment things would shift, for the ask that would come next, for the proof she’d need to offer to keep what she’d been given. But sitting here now, your breathing steady against her chest, there is no waiting. No sense of something approaching that she needs to prepare for. Just the present—warm, unremarkable, whole. The absence of anticipation feels almost startling in its gentleness. This is what certainty does, she realizes. It doesn’t demand attention. It simply lets her rest.
The television hums quietly in the background, some show neither of you is really watching. You lean back into her, trusting the weight of her behind you, head tipping just enough to rest against her shoulder. Patri adjusts without thinking, chin brushing your hair as she presses a brief, unremarkable kiss there.
“Comfortable?” she asks softly.
“Very,” you murmur.
She hums, satisfied, and tightens her hold just a fraction before relaxing again.
The room grows quieter as the minutes pass. Patri keeps tracing those lazy circles, grounding herself as much as you. Your hands rest over her forearms, fingers loosely laced, like this is where they naturally end up.
She thinks, not for the first time, about how easy it is to be this version of herself with you. How nothing in her chest tightens. How nothing feels like it’s waiting to be taken away.
“You’re thinking again,” you murmur.
“Mm,” she admits.
“Dangerous habit.”
She smiles into your hair and doesn’t stop touching you.
You don’t ask what she’s thinking. You never do. You just settle more fully into her, breathing evening out, weight trusting and sure.
And Patri lets her eyes close, the certainty warm and unshakeable in her chest. No audience. No effort. No conditions.
Just you, right where you belong.
You wake first.
Not all at once—just the gradual return of awareness, the kind that comes when your body feels held and unhurried. The room is dim, streetlight filtering through the curtains in soft, uneven bands across the wall. The television has gone dark sometime in the night, the apartment settled into a deeper kind of quiet.
You’re still exactly where you fell asleep.
Between her legs. Back to her chest. Patri’s arms are wrapped around you the same way they were hours ago, loose but certain, hands resting warm and familiar at your middle. Her breathing is slow and even now, the steady rise and fall against your back grounding in its constancy.
You shift carefully, testing the space.
She responds without waking—her arm tightening just a fraction, thumb brushing once at your side in that absent, half-asleep way she always does. A soft sound leaves her throat, unintelligible and unguarded, and her chin dips closer to your shoulder like her body knows exactly where you are.
You still.
It’s enough.
For a moment, you lie there listening to her breathe, letting the quiet stretch without rushing it. There’s no pressure to move. No sense that the night needs to become anything else just because morning has arrived.
Behind you, Patri doesn’t stir. She doesn’t brace herself awake. Sleep has taken her fully—no vigilance, no half-held tension—like she trusts the space enough to disappear for a while.
And she’s still here.
She fell asleep without holding on.
And nothing was taken from her.
The apartment hums softly around you—familiar, lived-in, complete. Laundry folded where it was left. Groceries put away. A kitchen waiting without urgency.
Eventually, Patri shifts again, deeper this time, her body pressing closer as if seeking warmth even in sleep. Her grip adjusts instinctively, sure and unthinking, and she settles back into stillness.
Behind you, she sleeps on—certain in a way she no longer questions.
And for the first time, maybe ever, she isn’t wondering how long this will last. Because she doesn’t have to.
Beyond the Badge | Alexia Putellas x reader - Part 8
Part 8
Summary : You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Real Madrid! Reader
Word count : 9.8k
A/n : These two hold my heart
Masterlist
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Madrid feels different, somehow. The streets are just as busy as ever and the sun is blazing, a sign that summer is getting closer. From your balcony, you trace the treeline of the Retiro below. Automatically, your brain flips back to a few weeks ago, picturing Alexia sitting right across from you.
It’s been ten days since the match against Bayern Munich. You are far too competitive to outright enjoy having your team eliminated from all competitions, but you are far from sulking about it either.
You spend your sudden free time hanging out with your friends and family way more than you usually can during the highs of the season. Media and sponsors are taking up much more of your time than you would like, but you bear it because of the money that comes with it. Madrid is hot, but it isn’t completely unlivable yet. You find yourself spending time tanning in the park while reading books.
Football continues, too. Your teammates have been even more annoying than usual lately, but you let them get away with it and willingly play into their games because you know it helps lift the spirits of the squad.
The realization that it’s the last month of this group together has been weighing down everyone. You’re used to it as a football player, but it still feels weird. The tension spikes when the press breaks the news that Misa and Teresa are leaving this summer. You knew that for a while, the rest of the team didn’t.
Losing your top domestic internationals is always a massive red flag for a project. You silently hope Athenea isn’t planning on making an exit anytime soon, the media is already cracking jokes about the two of you being the last ones standing in Madrid.
You have a press interview scheduled for tomorrow, where you’re expected to publicly pledge your absolute fidelity to the badge. You will do it without blinking an eye. You’re entirely used to the corporate side of the sport, and you know exactly how to say the right things, no matter how chaotic reality is.
Your teammates are noisy, but you don’t give them anything. Your fatal error is leaving your phone sitting on the bench when you head out to debrief with Pau about the upcoming match tactics.
The noise level when you re-enter the room worries you immediately. You’re even more worried when you see the whole team crowded around your locker. As you approach, Irune turns around and aggressively shoves your phone screen directly into your face. You don't even flinch.
“I don’t have face recognition on,” you deadpan, snatching the device straight out of her hand. Stupid kids.
“Oh, come on ! We can all see she sent you a message, but you didn’t even put her actual name in your contacts,” Irene complains loudly.
You had indeed named Alexia “British girl” in your phone, specifically to protect yourself in case this exact situation ever happened. It had made Alexia laugh when you told her about it.
“Because you’re all incredibly nosy,” you fire back, shoving the phone into your pocket.
“We haven’t even seen a picture yet,” Misa chimes in, crossing her arms. “And you’ve been smiling at your phone like an idiot for a solid month.”
Linda’s eyes go wide as a sudden theory struck her. “Oh my god... are you keeping it a secret because you’re actually seeing a man ?”
Your head snaps toward her, your expression morphing into pure disgust. You might let some stupid rumors fly, but that is your absolute hard limit. “Fuck no. Never imply that again,” you answer instantly, leaving zero room for debate.
“Honestly, I think Vicky was right from the start. It’s definitely an England national team player,” Athenea states.
Just like last time, the whole situation devolves into a massive, loud debate over who it could actually be. The main problem is that the Real Madrid players know even less about the English squad than the Spanish national team does, so their guesses are completely ridiculous.
However, it does lead to a much funnier argument regarding who the hottest player in England is. Leah Williamson wins the locker room vote by a landslide, an opinion you silently validate.
Even after the debate settles, your teammates still won’t stop teasing you, making you wonder if being the captain would allow you to transfer them all out. At least they’re not getting any closer to the truth.
You see someone with a Barça jersey in the street below, snapping a quick picture to Alexia with “your kind is invading us” attached. She’s in training, so you know she won’t answer immediately.
Alexia managed to become a permanent fixture in your daily life through a steady stream of voice notes, FaceTime calls, inside jokes, and stupid memes. She’s focused on the finals coming up, which means she’s ironically more available for you as she goes out less and can justify not traveling for media things.
You've come to realize that she’s actually a massive homebody at heart. It explains her absolute obsession with football, when she's not on the pitch, she has all the time in the world to just sit on the couch and watch it on TV.
Her behavior has shifted a bit lately, likely because of the intense pressure from everywhere. The usual voice notes breaking down match analysis and the screenshots of her tactical sketches have dried up. You assume it’s because football is all she hears about 24/7 right now, and she desperately wants her chats with you to be a sanctuary away from it all.
Even so, you weirdly miss the football nerd side of her. You tell yourself the afternoon heat is just messing with your brain. Reaching up, you idly adjust the sunglasses resting on your nose, a pair you had shamelessly stolen from Alexia’s house before leaving. You had sent her a selfie wearing them a few days ago, and she had immediately texted back, claiming they looked much better on you anyway.
Everyone around you has noticed the shift. You’re glued to your screen, constantly snapping pictures of random things just because they remind you of her. Aitana jokes that you’ve never answered so quickly to her texts.
You told your closest friends, at the dinner you rescheduled because of Alexia. They roasted you for finally breaking your rule about dating another footballer, especially since said footballer happens to be the captain of Barcelona.
The banter inevitably shifted into a lecture. Your friends pointed out that you tend to dive into relationships far too easily, never overthinking things, just letting them happen until they eventually burn you. Occasionally it lasts, very occasionally. You hadn't expected Alexia to have that same impulsive streak, you'd figured she’d be a chronic overthinker who let fun things slip through her fingers.
She’s beautiful, effortless to talk to, and the chemistry in bed is unmatched. In a normal world, you’d have slapped a label on it by now. In a vacuum, dating is simple : you try it out, and if it fails in eight weeks, you become friends or choose mutual radio silence.
But you don't live in a vacuum. You share a national team jersey with the woman. You can't just ask for a transfer out of your own country. Add to that the absolute nightmare of playing a billion Clásicos against each other every season, and simple flies right out the window.
Then there are the social circles that never quite intersect. Misa is more of a close coworker than an actual friend, and while Aitana logically should be your ultimate common ground, she and Alexia have never really clicked on a personal level.
Every single sign points toward making a rational decision to back away, but you choose to let your attachment for Alexia overpower the logic.
Your friends wrapped up the intervention with a laugh, admitting they can’t fathom how you are such a brilliant, levelheaded decision-maker in your professional life, yet such an absolute wildcard in your personal one.
The view of Madrid from your apartment offers you the answer. Football comes with a completely fucked-up schedule, but it still grants you a ton of free time, even if a massive chunk of it has to be spent recovering on the couch. You’re exactly the player your club and country need you to be, and in return, the sport offers you a life far better than anything you would have gotten otherwise.
You are naturally a calm person, even outside of sport. You’re not the type to scream, nor are you the type who craves the center of attention, that’s why the sport doesn’t eat you alive.
Instead, you gravitate toward chaotic personal choices because they’re fun. Messing around with girls because there are zero long-term consequences is freeing, it’s a necessary release valve for the high-stakes environment you live in. The second a girl starts adding to the stress instead of relieving it, you just break it off. Simple as that.
That’s why you know you’re making a mistake with Alexia. Then you think of the two of you on her couch, eating way too much take out because she won that game against Bayern, and you think bad decisions can taste sweet. That’s why they’re dangerous, you suppose.
Since that dinner, your friends have been leaving you alone about the whole situation, aside from the occasional jabs in the group chat. But eventually, they can’t take it anymore. It happens when you’re all in Prague for the weekend.
Alexia has the Copa de la Reina final, she tried to convince you to come, but you had no desire to see either Atlético or Barça win a title. Plus, that weekend had been scheduled for a while anyway.
It’s Saturday night, and you’re sitting at the restaurant table, eating and chatting, when your phone suddenly buzzes. “British girl” lights up your screen. You excuse yourself immediately and step outside into the night.
You answer the FaceTime call the second the cool air hits your face, and Alexia’s face fills the screen. Her hair is a bit messy, clearly not yet showered, and she’s wearing a fresh Champions t-shirt with a gold medal draped around her neck. You already knew they won, you’ve been checking the live score under the table all evening.
“Congrats, champ,” you smile, leaning back against the restaurant wall, trying to get the roof to protect you from the rain. “How was the game ?”
“Easy,” Alexia jokes, a smug grin on her face. “Their game plan was shit.”
You laugh softly. “Well, nobody’s gonna complain about a free win.”
She nods, fidgeting with the blue ribbon of her medal. The lighting in her background is dim and a little weird, she’s clearly found a hidden corridor or an empty room to escape her teammates for a few minutes. Your heart does a sudden leap. Out of everyone she could be celebrating with right now, she'd slipped away just to call you.
“Especially a win in Gran Canaria,” Alexia answers, breaking your train of thought. “We should be able to hit the beach tomorrow morning before our flight back. I’ll send you pictures.”
“You live in Barcelona anyway, amor,” you remind her with a chuckle. “You can go to the beach whenever you want.”
She shrugs. “You can never have too much beach.” The camera angle shifts as she slides down against the wall and sits on the concrete floor, clearly trying to get comfortable. “How is Prague ?”
“The weather is miserable,” you complain. It had been raining non-stop since your flight landed. “But the city itself is beautiful, and I’m with my friends, so it’s still a great weekend.”
“If there is no sun, it cannot be a perfect weekend,” Alexia declares. A fond smile spreads across your face at her absolute seriousness. That girl was truly made to be Spanish, you don’t think she would have survived a single winter living in Munich. Knowing Alexia the way you do now, there is absolutely no way she would ever sign for a London club, the British weather alone would kill her.
You end up freezing outside for a while longer, chatting. You fill her in on the sights you've managed to see in Prague, while Alexia gives you the breakdown of the match and her teammates' ridiculous post-game celebrations. Everyone is trying to be moderately careful (even if you doubt someone like Vicky knows the full meaning of that word) considering Oslo is in one week.
Alexia ends the call abruptly when Kika Nazareth finally tracks down her hiding spot, Alexia hanging up mid-sentence to avoid getting caught, leaving you staring at a black screen before you can even say goodbye. She texts you a few minutes later to apologize for that.
The second you walk back into the warmth of the restaurant, your smile betrays you. Sitting back down at the table, you're met with four very expectant faces.
“So, it seems things have been going pretty great with your footballer,” Alejandro says.
It’s a flat statement, and looking at their faces, you realize there’s absolutely no point in trying to deny it. “Yeah. It has.”
“Remind me,” Alicia chimes in, tilting her head. “How long have you two been seeing each other exactly ?”
“A bit more than a month now.” Saying it out loud feels strange, it feels both shorter and longer than that. You haven't spent that much time together in person, yet you've talked almost every day. Ironically, the distance has forced you to really get to know each other, rather than just sleeping together.
“Look at you, you're literally blushing,” Alejandro teases.
You roll your eyes, but you don't even get a chance to fire back before Alicia seals the trap. “One month in, and you’re absolutely whipped.”
“Shut up,” you mutter, taking a sudden interest in your drink.
“And where exactly is it going ?” Ana asks.
That’s the million-dollar question you haven’t been able to answer for yourself yet. Alexia hasn’t broached the subject either. You’re kind of dating each other, you suppose. You’re exclusive, or at least you're operating under the strong assumption and hope that she isn't sleeping with anyone else. But how are you supposed to lock things down ? Asking her to be your girlfriend over a video call feels cheap.
“I’m just letting it happen,” you say aloud, shrugging.
You can see on your friends’ faces that they don’t like that answer, but they know you well enough to have expected it.
“You can mess around with random girls all you want,” Alejandro says, his voice losing its teasing edge. “But doing that with a coworker is a terrible idea.”
“Thanks Captain Obvious, that’s why I usually don’t mess with footballers.” You roll your eyes, a bit defensive. It’s irritating hearing them lecture you on a risk analysis you've already run a hundred times.
Alicia swats at your shoulder, and you rub it while throwing her a mean look. “Remind me, what is Alexia’s profession?”
You don’t dignify her with an answer.
“Cut the crap,” Ana interjects. Unlike the rest of the group, who prefer to guide you gently toward a realization, Ana likes to drop the hammer. “It’s obvious you like her, and I don’t know why you’re playing coy. But considering both your positions, you have to sit down with each other and figure out how you’re gonna do it at one point. Life won’t figure it out for you.”
Except you really, truly hope life will just figure it out for you. In your previous relationships, it always did. Either with things naturally burning out or with the other girl taking charge and making the necessary steps.
“Look, she has the biggest game of her season next week. It’s a terrible time to drop a relationship talk on her,” you deflect. “Summer break is coming up anyway. We’ll figure it out then.”
It’s a total deflection. Everyone around the table knows it, including you. Sadly, your friends have no intention of letting you off the hook that easily.
“Right. Just like you were going to ‘talk about it’ with Paula. And with Julia,” Ana says, raising her hands to mimic air quotes with her fingers. “And at the very least, you were actually, officially dating them.”
“Not my fault if it didn’t work out before we could chat about where things were going,” you counter. It was, in fact, entirely your fault, but you don’t need to admit that to them. If you act frustratingly stubborn enough, they will finally give up and drop it.
Ana groans in pure frustration. Cesar, who had stayed silent until now, decides to try a completely new strategy. “I still can’t figure out how Elena stayed with your uncommunicative sorry ass for more than three years.”
Weaponizing Elena is a dirty tactic, but your defensive line doesn't break. You smirk, looking around the table. “Fascinating insights. Do I need to remind the panel that every single person here is currently single ? You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not taking relationship notes from the lonely-hearts club.”
That absolutely does the trick. It’s a temporary ceasefire and you know it, but a win is a win, and you savor every second of it.
You were expecting radio silence the week coming up to the Champions League, but Alexia sends you even more texts than usual. Surprisingly, they’re not that much about football. You suppose that’s what her whole life is about right now, so she needs to speak about other things.
She tells you about her teammates’ shenanigans, about her mom and sister forcing her to have dinner with them to take her mind off things for a bit, and about the stupid things happening in the telenovela she’s watching when hours of football become too much.
You FaceTime whenever you’re both available, even once she arrives in Oslo, where Alexia takes full advantage of her single room. Yet, she still respects her sleep schedule like clockwork, saying goodnight the exact second it hits bedtime, no matter how interesting the conversation is.
By Saturday, your own squad is in Barcelona to play against Badalona. The final is on in one of your teammates’ hotel rooms, and almost the entire team has crowded inside to watch it. Naturally, everyone is fiercely supporting Lyon, Naomie and Sara are even proudly wearing their old Lyon jerseys.
You feign indifference, spending a massive chunk of the match staring down at your phone to mask your nerves. You won’t admit it out loud, but you’re not against Barcelona winning it, both for Alexia and Aitana. Alexia tried to make you admit it yesterday, but couldn’t.
Barça dominates the opening forty-five. They’re leading 2–0 at the break with goals from Alexia and Pajor. Lyon is playing badly, their midfield getting destroyed. But it’s like two different teams come out of the locker room.
Yohannes plays like she’s ten years older than she is, Bacha reminds everyone why she’s the best left-back in the world, Chawinga and Brand are running everywhere, and the game is suddenly 2–2 at the 80th minute. You can see the tension on the Barcelona side, while Lyon is playing more freely.
Then what was expected happens. In the 87th minute, Brand does a stepover to pass Mapi, and her shot curls perfectly toward the top corner. It’s beautiful football, you have to admit, and the room goes ballistic.
Barça tries in the few minutes left, a Pajor header not on goal, Vicky’s shot hitting the crossbar, and then the final whistle can be heard. While your Real Madrid teammates celebrate wildly around you, you try not to wince when the broadcast cuts to a devastating close-up of Alexia crying on the pitch, your heart breaking at the sight.
You end your live texting of the game to her with “I’m here to talk if you need it, amor. You don’t need to answer if you don’t feel like it.”
Predictably, it sits on delivered. You spend the rest of the night checking your notifications until you finally give up. The only call you get is a midnight dial from Aitana, who spends half an hour aggressively breaking down their tactical errors. You just listen. It's her classic post-loss routine : explode, analyze, and then go completely ghost for two days.
It’s genuinely funny to you how Barça’s loss manages to make everyone on your team just a little bit happier. Who says being a hater only creates negative energy ? The squad is in an extra cheerful mood all through lunch, and you're laughing along with the rest of them until your pocket buzzes with a notification you absolutely weren’t expecting.
Unsaved number : Hey, it’s Alba, Alexia’s sister. I know it’s a bit out of nowhere but I saw you’re playing against Badalona today. Could you come to Ale’s house after the game? She’s inconsolable.
You’re deeply confused as to how Alexia’s sister even managed to get your number, but you decide that’s a question for another time. You weigh the risks for a brief second before texting back your agreement. If you have the power to make Alexia feel even a fraction better right now, you’re going to do it.
Back at lunch, you casually say you're skipping the team flight back to go check on Aitana. Nobody knows her well enough to find it weird, so the lie goes easily.
The game against Badalona is an easy one, and the team officially clinches second place in the league with it. You order an Uber as soon as the game ends and leave for Alexia’s house right after your shower. You’re mildly aware that you’re about to meet at least Alexia’s sister, and it stresses you out a bit to say the least.
Worse, you are currently wearing your official Real Madrid sweatpants and hoodie. You're fully aware Alexia will absolutely hate seeing the crest in her house, but you hadn't packed a change of clothes as this detour wasn't in your plans at all.
The drive is long, and your driver is apparently not a fan of your wardrobe choice either. He takes great pleasure in gloating about how the Barça men's team won the La Liga title over Madrid, completely oblivious to who you are. You're deeply tempted to point out that their women's team just bottled a Champions League final, but you think better of it.
You’re relieved to finally pull up to Alexia’s house. Alba comes out to meet you right at the gate, and she looks enough like her sister that you have absolutely no problem recognizing her.
Her gaze drops to the massive Real Madrid crest on your hoodie, a corner of her mouth twitching. “Better than an OL one, I suppose,” she notes dryly.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair to shuffle it. It is incredibly awkward to meet the sister of your... what ? Situationship ? Under these conditions.
Alba seems to pick up on your nerves. “Seriously, thank you for coming,” she says softly, reaching over to take your bag before you can even protest. “Our mom and her friend Miriam are also inside.”
Your stomach does a violent flip. Okay, now you’re officially panicking.
“We’re currently on our fourth replay of the match today,” Alba sighs, leading the way. “I feel like I’m going completely crazy.”
The first thing that hits you as you step inside is the rich, comforting smell of homemade food. You leave your shoes at the entrance and venture deeper into the house.
The game is indeed on replay, it’s currently in the second half, just a few minutes before Lyon’s equalizing goal. Her best friend, Miriam, is sitting in a nearby chair. You recognize her instantly from the photos Alexia has sent you over the past month. Right now, she looks like a mix between thoroughly bored and deeply worried. She’s the first one to notice you, her face lighting up with a soft, relieved smile the moment your eyes meet.
You give a polite nod, but your focus is entirely elsewhere. Your eyes sweep the room, bracing for the one reaction you've been dreading and hoping for all afternoon.
She’s curled up on the couch in a oversized hoodie and sweatpants, her hood pulled completely up. She looks entirely exhausted, her eyes bloodshot and underlined by heavy bags. There’s a Cat Culer plushie locked in her arms that she’s hugging tightly to her chest, and you mentally reprimand yourself because finding a grieving Alexia this adorable should be illegal.
Her gaze remains locked onto the match film until Alba cuts through the commentary with a quiet, “Ale.”
That finally distracts her. A whirlwind of raw emotions flashes across Alexia's face the second she catches sight of you, but to your immense relief, they seem overwhelmingly positive. Wordlessly, she opens her arms.
You don't hesitate. Ignoring the fact that her sister and best friend are right there acting as an audience, you slide on top of her. She locks her arms around you instantly, squeezing with a desperation that catches you off guard, her chin resting on the top of your head.
“I’m going to go help Eli in the kitchen,” Miriam says, getting up from her seat.
The mention of Eli makes Alexia stiffen beneath you. The reality that you’re about to meet her mother is finally clicking, but she doesn't let go. If anything, her grip tightens, anchoring you to her chest. Accepting your fate, you adjust your posture, settling deeper into her hold.
In your peripheral vision, Alba claims Miriam's empty chair, watching the display with an unreadable expression. According to Alexia, Alba is a chronic teaser, but the younger sister clearly possesses great situational awareness. She stays completely silent, even if her eyes are practically screaming with questions.
“Can I turn off the TV?” you ask softly. It’s a tactical test to gauge her current headspace. She lets out a heavy sigh, you suppose she’s been asked that a dozen times already today. To soften the prompt, you press your face into the warm junction of her neck, your fingers tracing upward beneath her hoodie to rest against her ribs. You keep the touch light, mindful of Alba’s presence in the room.
“If you want,” she murmurs. It’s barely a whisper, and it’s the first time you've heard her voice all day, but it feels like a massive win.
Alba immediately shoots up and switches the television off, she’s clearly been dying to do that since morning. Aitana had mentioned last night that their flight left incredibly early, landing in Barcelona around 10:00 AM, meaning the family has been managing Alexia’s spiraling state for hours now.
The room settles into a slightly awkward silence. Alba fidgets, clearly trying to be mindful of Alexia’s mood, but when she can’t handle the quiet anymore, she slides out of her chair and disappears into the kitchen, leaving the two of you completely alone.
You press a kiss on her jaw, which you wouldn’t have done in front of her sister. “You’re dressed like shit,” Alexia jokes. Her voice is rough, drained of its usual energy, but the teasing spark is a massive relief.
You let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn’t exactly planning a trip here today.”
You shift slightly in her embrace to press a real kiss to her lips. She moves one of her hands up, her fingers cradling your jawline to deepen the contact. You hadn't expected Alexia to be this intensely affectionate after a defeat, but apparently, physical proximity is exactly how she processes loss. You certainly aren't going to complain.
You drop your head back against her shoulder the exact second you hear faint footsteps echoing down the hallway. Your body instantly tenses as you realize it’s Alexia’s mother. You know exactly how much her mami means to her, Alexia talks about her with absolute devotion all the time.
“Mami, this is Y/N, my girlfriend,” Alexia announces softly. “Y/N, this is my mami.”
You do your absolute best to mask your shock at the word girlfriend. That is a discussion for later, way later. You always expected that word would terrify you when the time came, but instead, a genuinely warm, pleasant feeling settles deep into your chest.
You instinctively try to disentangle yourself to stand up and greet her mother like a civilized human being, but your apparent girlfriend ensures you stay exactly where you are, locking her arms around your back.
“Hi,” you manage, fully aware that your face is burning bright red.
“Hola, cariño.” Eli looks at the two of you tangled together on the cushions. While it's certainly not the worst way to be seen on top of Alexia, it still makes your skin prickle with self-consciousness. “Are you staying for dinner ?”
You can feel Alexia’s expectant gaze burning into the side of your face at the question. “Yeah, I’m staying tonight,” you answer, before looking down at the girl pinning you down. “If that’s okay with you?”
“Yeah. Stay,” Alexia murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. You were not expecting her to be the PDA type, it’s disarming. Then, she looks past your shoulder, her tone flattening as she addresses her mother. “I’m not eating tonight.”
Her mother immediately crosses her arms, throwing her the kind of lethal, no-bullshit look that only parents can truly master. “I let you skip breakfast, and I let you skip lunch. You are eating dinner.”
“No, I’m not,” Alexia fires back. She sounds like a petulant child, you’re sure that was exactly what she sounded like when she was eleven years old and her parents asked her to come home instead of playing football.
Her mother looks directly at you, clearly expecting you to step in and convince her stubborn daughter. But you know exactly what a hard loss feels like, the urge to just have everyone leave you alone. You refuse to annoy Alexia right now. Instead, you simply snuggle deeper against her shoulder. You're almost certain you hear a soft, quiet sigh of relief escape her lips.
You’re not entirely sure this tactical retreat is going to win you any points with her mother, but Alexia’s comfort is the only thing that matters right now. You hear her mami let out a heavy, defeated sigh as she turns and retreats back into the kitchen.
“Alright, the free pass is over,” Alexia whispers, giving you a playful shove. “You’re warm and I needed the affection, but you need to take that off. Go change.”
Laughing, you disentangle yourself from her. Alexia looks a bit better than earlier, even if it still looks like she needs fifteen hours of sleep. As you pass the kitchen doorway, Alba spots you. “Where are you off to?”
“I’m getting changed. Alexia surprisingly doesn’t like how I’m dressed.” You show the Real Madrid logo on the hoodie.
Alba snorts loudly. “Ah, stupid football rivalries. Do you need me to show you where Ale’s room is ?”
You instantly turn bright red. You absolutely, vividly remember exactly where Alexia’s room is, and precisely what happened the last time you were inside it. You look up, catching both Miriam and Eli watching your total composure dissolve in real-time.
Alba’s grin widens into pure mischief. “Ah, stupid me. You already know exactly where it is, don’t you ?”
You don’t dignify her with an answer and head to the bedroom, because you would have ended up digging a hole in the floor if that conversation carried on. Alexia’s bedroom hasn’t changed much, the Ballon d’Or still shining in a corner. A third one was promised to her if she won; it’s not a sure thing now.
The only noticeable difference is the suitcase thrown open carelessly on the floor, you can see the silver medal in the middle of it.
You go in the walk-in closet, stealing a neutral hoodie and sweatpants. You’re close enough in size that her clothes always fit you perfectly, you just triple-check the labels just to make sure you don't accidentally pick up some Barça merch.
When you return to the living room, dinner has been served. Predictably, Alexia and her mother are right back at it, locked in an intense argument about her needing to eat, while Miriam and Alba diplomatically focus on their plates to stay entirely out of the crossfire.
You hover for a bit, not really knowing your place, until Miriam sees you wandering and waves you to come over. You thank them profusely for the food and take a plate, quite hungry after the game earlier.
You get between Alexia’s legs, your back against her chest, and she wraps her arms around you without question, while still arguing with her mother. You happily remain a silent shield, refusing to get involved in this match either.
The footballer secures the win. Eli ultimately accepts that she can't physically shovel food down a thirty-two-year-old's throat, though she makes sure her displeasure is known. The meal is an exercise in pure discomfort. Alexia is brooding, Eli is brooding, and Alba and Miriam are clearly wondering when it will be considered acceptable to leave. You just sit there, trying to blend in.
Once the plates are cleared, they collectively decides they can finally escape the house with you there. Eli walks you through the kitchen, pointing out the Tupperware and explaining the microwave settings on the off-chance her daughter remembers human beings need sustenance. Alba whispers another genuine thank you, and Miriam leaves you with a parting gift: a promise that the protective best friend interrogation is absolutely coming the next time your paths cross.
Once the front door clicks shut, you retreat to her room. The transition to bed is entirely wordless. Alexia is acting like a shadow, clinging to your side but locked away in her own head, shutting down any attempts at small talk.
The second you both lie down on the bed, she settles heavily into your arms, hiding her face deep in the crook of your neck. You slip one hand under the hem of her t-shirt, softly caressing her bare back, while your other hand gently plays with her hair.
You don't shift your position when she murmurs, “We had it”, before her body begins to tremble, sobbing silently against your skin. You just press a tender kiss to the top of her head and let her cry it out. You don't try to force reassuring words, you've already figured out that your physical presence is the only thing that truly matters to her right now.
You stay like that for a long time, until her breathing begins to calm down. You press a soft kiss to her temple. “Goodnight, amor. Wake me up if you need anything.”
“Goodnight, cari,” comes the raspy, broken whisper against your skin. You pull her in even tighter against you. The gratitude is unspoken, understood without the need for a formal thank-you. A few minutes later, exhaustion takes over, and you both drift off into a deep, uninterrupted sleep, enjoying each other’s warmth.
You wake up long before Alexia the next morning. Her dead weight pins you securely to the mattress, making it impossible to get up without risking waking her. Carefully reaching for your phone on the nightstand, you inform the staff you won’t catch the plane back to Madrid in the morning. You also cancel the dinner you were supposed to have at your place with your family tonight.
Alexia looks peaceful, way more relaxed now that she’s sleeping. You suppress the instinct to touch her jawline or play with her hair, letting her body get the recovery it desperately needs. The media and fans are already tearing the team apart, making you deeply grateful she's currently insulated from the internet in this room. You feel bad for any player that might be checking it.
You know she’s starting to wake up because she begins to shift and press closer against you. She lets out a soft groan before finally blinking her eyes open, looking up to meet your gaze. Almost immediately, she hides her face right back into the crook of your neck. Your arms circle her shoulders, and you press a warm kiss to the top of her head.
“Hola, amor,” you whisper against her hair.
She doesn’t give you a verbal answer, choosing instead to snuggle even closer into your chest. Slipping your hand back under the hem of her t-shirt, you begin to trace slow, soothing patterns over her spine.
After a few minutes of quiet comfort, you gently start to slide out from underneath her, earning an immediate whine of protest. “Where do you think you’re going ?”
“To the kitchen. I'm making breakfast, so stay put.” You seal the command with a kiss to her forehead.
“Not hungry,” she mumbles into the pillow.
You’re about to argue when her stomach violently betrays her with a loud rumble. You arch an eyebrow, pinning her with a smug, victorious look. Pushing her shoulder back down into the mattress, you smirk “Don’t you dare leave this bed. I’m taking care of it.” She just huffs and pulls the duvet over her nose, but she doesn't try to get up. First win of the day goes to you.
You decide on pancakes, remembering Alexia mentioning once that they’re her ultimate comfort food. You add a bit too much chocolate for an athlete currently in the middle of a season, but luckily, both your club nutritionists aren’t in the room to stop you. To balance it out, you toss on some of the fresh fruit her family brought over yesterday.
The moment you walk back into the bedroom balancing the plates, you catch the immediate look of pure envy in her eyes. Not hungry, my ass.
After a quick second trip to fetch the coffees, you climb back under the covers and propped yourself up beside her.
“Thanks, cariño,” Alexia says softly, leaning over to press a lingering kiss against your shoulder.
You smile, leaning your head against hers. You know that simple thank you goes far beyond just the breakfast, but sometimes loud words aren’t needed.
The first part of breakfast passes in a comfortable silence, until Alexia softly breaks it. “How did you deal with the loss against England last summer ?”
You think back to that tournament, letting out a self-deprecating laugh at the memory. “Oh, I was awful. Everyone was banned from talking to me about anything remotely related to football for two whole weeks. Just one mention and I would completely shut down. For a month after that, it was still such a touchy subject that people avoided it like the plague. I drove my friends and family absolutely crazy.”
Alexia hums in quiet acknowledgment. “I think my worst one was the Olympics. I literally spent nights on the training pitch taking penalty after penalty instead of sleeping. Alba thought I needed an intervention.”
You finish your plate and place it on the nightstand, doing the same with hers. You motion for her to slide back between your legs, resting her back firmly against your chest with one of your arms looped securely around her waist. You both continue to sip your coffees in the quiet room.
“My absolute worst memory was in France too,” you murmur, staring at the wall. “The U20 World Cup in 2018. I was the captain, and I took that role way too seriously, especially considering I was already a regular member of the senior team by then. Back then, football was my entire identity. We lost the final to Japan after beating them in the group stage. It broke me for a long time.”
You sigh, the bitter taste of the coffee matching the old memories. “During my season with Munich just before that, we lost the league by three points to Wolfsburg,” you continue, staring out at the room. “I scored a stupid own goal that completely fucked up our rhythm in the match against them, and then we went and lost the DFB-Pokal final to them, too.”
You close your eyes, leaning your head back. “That season, coupled with the U20 World Cup, destroyed me. I fell completely out of love with football for a while. I almost signed with Barcelona during that next winter window, just because I desperately wanted to go home to Spain.”
Alexia shifts against your chest, looking up at you with completely unmasked shock. “You almost came to Barça ? Why didn’t you ?”
You shrug, keeping a perfectly straight face. “Self-respect.”
“Shut up,” she mutters, hitting your thigh. “We were having a serious conversation.”
“Alright, alright, sorry,” you murmur, kissing her temple to soothe the faux outrage. Usually, you’d use a joke like that to completely derail a deep topic, but you’re forcing yourself to stay present with her. “Honestly ? Munich felt like unfinished business. I couldn't leave on a failure. And right around then, the whispers were starting that Madrid was finally going to launch a women’s side.”
“When did you fell in love with football again ?”
“I just built a completely new relationship with it,” you admit. “I drew a hard line. I refused to let every bad result dictate my mood for a week. I still outworked everyone on the pitch and studied every clip the coaches sent, but I stopped watching football outside of that. I started to hang out and meet random people, got my first girlfriend, and reconnected with old friends from Madrid I’d barely talked to at the time. I would have burned out at some point anyway, I think it happened at the right time. I learned how to have a healthier relationship with football, I was finally happy.”
Alexia senses the conclusion of your story. Having both finished your coffees, you set your mugs aside on the nightstand. You loop both arms securely around her waist, and she begins lazily tracing the lines of your fingers, settling herself more comfortably against your chest. She reaches down and hitches the thick comforter all the way up over your shoulders. Always freezing, this girl.
“You won’t be too surprised to learn I was the biggest football nerd growing up,” she starts.
You bite back a sarcastic no kidding ? because it’s clear Alexia genuinely wants to keep this serious conversation going.
“The death of my father made me dive into football even more,” she admits quietly. You automatically tighten your embrace around her waist. She has barely ever spoken about her father with you, and you know how sacred that boundary is.
“I was physically back in Barcelona, but emotionally, I was completely absent for my mom and Alba. It was always another training session, another film study, another match. That first year back with the club was just... dark.”
You aren't entirely sure what words could possibly help heal that old wound, so you don't say anything. Instead, you slowly run your thumbs in soothing, rhythmic circles across her stomach, letting the steady pressure show her that you are completely anchored here, listening to every word.
“Then Jenni signed during my second season,” Alexia says, a distinct warmth filtering into her tone. “It’s crazy how one person can completely redefine your life.”
“We would go out all the time, either with the rest of the squad or just the two of us. She was the one who constantly encouraged me to go home and spend more time with my family. She dragged me out of my shell entirely. Jenni made me realize that there was a whole, beautiful world existing outside the lines of a football pitch.” Alexia pauses, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Honestly, I thought I was completely straight until I met her.”
Alexia laughs at her younger self, and you can’t help but chuckle softly along with her. “So, she was the first girl you were ever with ?”
“First person, actually,” Alexia corrects softly. “Before that, between football and my dad, my mind just never went there. Jenni was the first one that felt right.”
You let out a neutral sound, forcing your muscles not to stiffen. A sharp, ugly prickle of jealousy hits you, but you swallow it down. You can’t stand Jenni on a good day, and hearing her framed as Alexia’s grand awakening makes your stomach turn.
Alexia seems to suddenly realize who she’s talking to, shifting slightly against you. “Jenni was right for a younger version of me, and I’m incredibly grateful for what she gave me. But we never would have worked long-term.”
Still stayed together for what ? Eight years ? Something like that.
“She can be too much of a teaser, and I’m too serious for someone like her,” Alexia explains, her tone shifting to something more analytical. “Jenni likes to be the life of everything and needs someone who will be right there in the spotlight with her. I want someone I can just chill with on the sidelines. We made it work for a while, until it broke. She helped me grow up immensely, and that’s all it was.” She tips her chin up, leaving a lingering kiss on your jawline.
There is a dangerous question burning on the very tip of your tongue. What Vicky had told you a month ago begins looping relentlessly through your mind : Alexia and Jenni slept together last summer. You know you need to talk about it. You know you have to ask. But a terrified part of you isn't sure you actually want to hear the answer, and the weight of yesterday's loss is still visibly hurting her.
This is absolutely not the right moment, you tell yourself. The voices of your friends are practically screaming in your head, calling you a total coward, but you firmly shut them out, tightening your grip around her waist.
“What was your most serious relationship ?” Alexia asks with curiosity. You’re thankful for the change of subject.
Thinking back, it’s strange that the two of you haven’t talked about this before, despite discussing almost everything else under the sun. If an ex was ever relevant to a specific story one of you was telling, you wouldn’t actively avoid mentioning her, but that was pretty much the extent of it. You suppose that openly talking about past relationships meant acknowledging what was slowly happening between the two of you, and you had both been collectively postponing that conversation.
“I met her right after I signed with Real,” you say, resting your chin on her shoulder. “Friend of a friend. It was my first real taste of a mature relationship. Back in Germany, when I finally accepted I liked women, I always knew I was just killing time until the Madrid project launched. There was a expiration date on everything. And before that... well, there were a few boyfriends, but that’s a dark part of my past we won’t dwell on.”
Alexia chuckles, the vibration warm against your front. You lean down and press a tender kiss to her temple, purely because you love the sound of her laughter and because, right now, you can.
You carry on. “Her name was Elena. She was a high-placed manager in one of these boring companies, got the position straight out of college. Way too smart for me, had her life plan planned out at twenty-five. She liked having someone in her life who didn’t give a fuck about corporates, and I liked having someone who couldn’t care less about football.”
“She’d take me to high-brow art galleries and lectures on seventeenth-century history, and I’d drag her into the mountains for hikes. I taught her how to touch grass, basically. Showed her that you can experience Madrid without a tour guide, and that doing absolutely nothing under the sun at El Retiro is a luxury. At home we would chill on the couch, her watching a documentary or working while I was reviewing tapes on my tablet.”
“What caused the split ?” The sudden tension in Alexia’s posture is palpable. Her tone has a quiet, territorial bite to it, a reminder you aren’t the only one in this bed capable of experiencing jealousy.
“Inexperience and self-sabotage,” you answer honestly. “She was transparent, and I was a coward. We were constantly making adjustments to make the relationship better for her, but never for me. To be fair to her, Elena always checked in on my needs, but I’d smile and lie through my teeth, convinced that compromising myself was the only way to preserve what we had. I was so paralyzed by the fear of losing her that I made the relationship implode.”
You swallow hard, the bitter truth catching in your throat. It never feels good to vocalize your past mistakes, especially to the person you're currently falling for.
“She finally realized what I was doing right after the World Cup,” you continue, your voice dropping. “We had been together for two and a half years at that point. So much was happening outside the apartment, I couldn't pretend everything was fine anymore.”
“Is that why you didn’t say anything during Las 15 ?” Alexia asks. It’s a clear olive branch, a way to blame the friction with Elena for your political silence. For once in your life, you decide to be the bigger person.
“No,” you say honestly. “I was just a coward. Elena kept her distance from the sport, she barely ever went to any of my matches. She didn't even take paid leave for the World Cup, because she preferred to save her vacation days during the off-season when I was available to hang out with her.”
You swallow back a wave of regret. You had desperately wanted her in the stands for the final, but you’d completely botched the conversation, never telling her how much it mattered.
“But she was absolutely mad at me for shutting my mouth,” you continue, a bitter smile crossing your lips. “Trust me, she was furious. It wasn't even about the principle of the protest itself, she works in the corporate world, so she understands the necessity of turning a blind eye to bad management. She was mad because it was actively hurting me and I wasn’t fighting.”
“How was it hurting you ?” It’s a mix of curiosity and bitterness. You know how hard it must have been for her at the time. She can’t fathom why it would have been hard for you.
“Real Madrid management told me point-blank that my renewal figures depended entirely on my silence,” you recount. “The federation made it clear the armband was off the table if I stepped out of line, and my status as the face of Spain’s future was conditional. I almost lost Aitana over it, too. Trust me, it took a lot of talking and screaming for her forgive me.”
“And then the national team camps were absolute hell,” you admit, closing your eyes, it was the part that hurt the most. “Everyone was putting pressure on me, expecting me to do something. I’m not deaf, I wasn't oblivious to the whispers in the dining hall, or the way the Barça players looked at me. I knew the labels being slapped on my back, and I know how much that resentment still lingers today. The staff wanted me to go out there and say how much I supported them, while our teammates wanted me to stand up and crucify the RFEF.”
Alexia gently interrupts you, her voice quiet but firm. “What made us go crazy is that we had a feeling you were actually on our side, contrary to some of your Real Madrid teammates. Especially considering how close you are with Aitana. But you just… refused to give an opinion. Back then, not talking against the federation was viewed as backing them, and we just couldn’t understand why you were doing that.” There's no venom in her delivery, she’s simply stating it as a cold, historical fact.
You don’t answer her directly.
“It took months for Elena and me to actually break up,” you murmur instead. You can feel Alexia’s posture instantly tense in your arms, likely frustrated that you’re seemingly deflecting her question again, but she remains quiet and lets you continue.
“Elena is a fixer to a fault. She genuinely believes any problem can be managed, optimized, and saved if we just put enough hours into it. My sister once told me that I’m the exact brand of idiot who is so utterly terrified of hurting people I care about that I will literally run myself straight through a brick wall instead of just turning around to face a situation. I knew the relationship was completely dead the second I came back from Australia, but we stayed together for another entire year. She finally broke it off right before the Olympics. The end was incredibly ugly.”
There were no screaming matches or theatrical slammed doors. The ugliness was simply the agonizing reality of watching someone you once loved hurt so deeply, knowing it was entirely your fault, and realizing you were too paralyzed to do anything about it. There had been no begging when she told you it was over. You had simply stood there and quietly helped her pack her boxes.
The last words she ever said to you were, Grow a spine if you want to be happy one day.
You aren't even sure what possessed you to lay your entire history bare like that. It’s basically handing it to her on a silver platter that you’re a giant red flag in a relationship. Maybe it’s a desperate attempt at redemption, a way of trying to convince yourself that you can actually be honest, that you've genuinely learned from your previous mistakes.
Alexia remains quiet for a long moment, likely pondering the weight of your words. You lie there, practically waiting for the hammer to fall. “Have you been in a serious relationship since her ?”
You swallow hard against the dryness in your throat. “No, not really. I mean, things would last two months at the absolute maximum before I’d grow completely paranoid about fucking it up, which inevitably caused me to fuck it up. Beyond that, nobody gave me a reason to want to settle down. And the wound of the breakup with Elena stayed open for a while.”
You leave out how much the combination of losing Elena and the Paris Olympic tournament had completely broken your spirit. Alexia had already claimed the Olympics as her personal rock bottom, you don’t want to make her feel worse about that missed penalty.
Your post-breakup coping mechanisms hadn't been pretty. At first, you just drifted through casual hooks-ups, operating under the bulletproof logic that you couldn’t be a bad girlfriend if you weren’t anyone's girlfriend at all. When that got lonely, you had flipped to the opposite extreme : slapping the “girlfriend” label on every girl you went out with for more than a few dates. It was a hollow title. They were technically your girlfriend, but you never actually acted like one, always keeping one foot out the door.
Alexia turns completely around in your arms, shifting back just enough so she can look you dead in the eyes. Her hair is still messy from sleep, and she’s wearing an old, oversized shirt with colors that have faded from too many trips through the wash. She looks utterly beautiful.
“So,” she murmurs, narrowing her eyes slightly, “not a single woman in two years has been worth the risk of committing to ?” She aims for a casual, testing tone, but the pitch is slightly off. The vulnerability is bleeding through the armor.
You don’t break eye contact with her for a single second. “There’s this one girl. But the jury is still out on whether we're together, considering she just casually dropped the 'girlfriend' label on me to her mom without giving me a heads-up first.”
A faint blush colors her cheeks. “I would say the message from her is pretty clear.”
You certainly don’t need a clearer invitation than that. Closing the small distance between you, you press your lips to hers. She responds immediately, her hand flying down to grip your hip while your hands find her cheek and shoulder. She tastes faintly of mint, she must have slipped into the bathroom to brush her teeth while you were busy flipping pancakes in the kitchen. You mentally thank your past self for having the foresight to do the exact same thing.
Your hand glides slowly down her shoulder, slipping beneath the hem of her oversized shirt to touch bare skin, but Alexia gently catches your wrist.
“I’m not quite there today. Sorry, cari,” she whispers against your lips, her eyes holding a quiet apology. “Oslo is still weighing a bit too heavy.”
“Hey, no need to apologize. Completely get it,” you assure her instantly, moving your hand back to the outside of her shirt and shifting to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “But seriously, though, did you really just sit through my entire relationship horror story and think, Yep, that’s the giant walking red flag I want to officially call my girlfriend ?”
You lean in and playfully nip at her earlobe, making her let out a breathy laugh.
“You own up to your faults. I would say that’s a definitive sign of improvement.” She moves back just a fraction so she can look you straight in the eyes. “I haven’t told you much about my relationship with Olga, but trust me, I can completely relate to keeping something going even when it’s clearly not working anymore. But I think we’ve already had more than enough serious chats for one morning.”
She pulls you down for a lingering, deep kiss. It’s quiet, peaceful, and entirely focused on the rhythm of the two of you.
You gently break apart from the kiss, giving her waist a playful squeeze. “Let’s go get ready, yeah ? Do you have anything scheduled today ?”
Alexia buries her face back into your chest, groaning into your shirt. “Ugh. We have a light recovery session. It’s to keep the squad from drowning in self-pity, I assume. Since we play again in forty-eight hours, they need us moving. It won’t take up the whole afternoon, at least.” Then a pause. “Thanks for getting my mind off things this morning.”
“Just doing my civic duty as your girlfriend,” you joke.
You can hear her small, breathy laugh vibrate right against your skin. Smiling, you press a warm kiss to the top of her head. “Come on, Ale. Let’s get out of bed and get presentable.”
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A/n : Between the game against England, Alexia staying at Barça, and Lyon winning the UWCL, never ask me to make any football prediction. Also yes the line about Alexia in London was written before she announced her departure from Barça...
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Beyond the Badge | Alexia Putellas x reader - Part 7
Part 7
Summary : You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Real Madrid! Reader
Word count : 10.8k
A/n : Rumors are saying this chapter contains the long-awaited Alexia POV 👀
Warnings : 18+
Masterlist
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Everybody whistles and catcalls as you exit the locker room in a rush after the win against Sevilla. Misa screams “be careful it’s colder in London,” loud enough that you hear her while in the corridor. You should feel some guilt for the lie, but you don’t really.
You ignore them, going to catch the Uber that you ordered earlier. You had the time to take a quick shower and change in some neutral clothes, you’re not sure Alexia would let you get in her car later if you were in a full Merengues kit.
The flight to Barcelona passes in a blur, the flight is short, and at this point in your career traveling is second nature. El Prat is quieter than usual, but you aren't letting your guard down. You’ve kept your hat low and your sunglasses firmly on for the entire flight, they now feel completely ridiculous considering it’s pitch-black outside
You keep your head down. One person with a phone camera and a good memory, and you'd be trending before you reached baggage claim. Social media would make crazy theories about you joining Barça if you were seen here, and you don’t even want to think what the Real Madrid group chat would be like.
Alexia already shared her loc in the parking lot, having her meet you at arrivals was never an option. The weather isn’t exactly cooperating for early May, but you suppose it beats the rain back in Madrid. Alexia told you to bring your bathing suit in case you want to use her pool, you doubt it’s going to leave your bag.
Alexia didn’t park close, meaning you have to walk for a bit with a steady undercurrent of stress keeping you on edge. Your eyes flick around every two seconds, scanning the quiet lot. You know the odds of getting caught are tiny, but odds only matter until one person actually recognizes you. After that, it would be an absolute mess.
The rows of vehicles are entirely deserted when you finally spot her Cupra. The moment you approach, the driver's side door swings open and Alexia steps out. She wraps her arms securely around your shoulders, and you instinctively circle yours around her hips, pulling her close. “Hola,” she whispers into your hair, pressing a tender kiss to the side of your head.
You don’t even say it back, you let your forehead sink against her shoulder. All the anxiety of the flight evaporates as you breathe her in, your nose nuzzling into the warm, familiar curve of her neck.
“Someone’s tired,” she murmurs affectionately. She presses one last kiss to the side of your head before stepping back, her arms leaving your shoulders. She opens the passenger door for you, taking your bag in her hand to throw it onto the backseat.
When you’re both seated inside the warm car, you finally take the time to watch her. She’s wearing comfy clothes, a Nike sweater and sweats, but she looks great. She gazes back, reaching over to remove the sunglasses from your nose. She places them on the dashboard and then kisses you properly.
You respond instantly, your hand coming up to cup her cheek. For a few unhurried minutes, the empty parking lot disappears as you lose yourselves in each other. Ignoring the deep soreness settling into your muscles from your own game, you gaze at the backseat, considering it for a second.
Alexia catches that. “I have a massive game tomorrow, and I have to sleep.” You let out a frustrated groan, but you nod. You know the drill.
Her right hand finds your thigh the second she starts driving. You begin to caress the back of it, only to freeze when you notice the details. “No way. Did you seriously get a Barça manicure ?”
She smiles, clearly proud of it. “Yes, but you can’t complain, they’re short.” You laugh louder at that, looking down at her hand again. It’s freshly done, the nails clean and short, alternating between red and blue depending on the finger.
“I like them,” you say, then you see the smug smile on her face and add quickly, “Not the colors, obviously, just the fact that you got them done. The red ones during camp looked great too, just… impractical.” She snorts, but you can see the color on her cheeks from the compliment. “So how are you doing ?”
“Stressed,” she admits, her gaze fixed on the road. “But a lot better now that you’re sitting next to me.”
You roll your eyes, a warmth expanding in your chest. “Flirt,” you tease. She doesn’t even try to deny it, and the rest of the drive passes in easy small talk.
Alexia’s house is in a wealthy neighborhood. It’s called Pedralbes, she informs you, the kind of area where the fences are high and nothing is out of place. You prefer living in the middle of the city, but you understand her need for quietness.
She badges the gate open, revealing a modern house with palm trees standing guard in front. Parking in the middle of the driveway, she grabs your bag from the backseat as you get out. You’re both silent as you walk to the front door, as if respecting the stillness around you.
Pushing inside, you kick off your shoes at the door. The layout is exactly what the ultra-modern exterior promised : tall ceilings, a living room big enough to host the whole Barça team, a patio outside, and a swimming pool glowing in the background.
There are multiple framed jerseys on the walls, perfectly aligned, with her historic 500-games shirt displayed right next to the 300 and 400 ones. There’s no sign of her trophies, making you suppose she keeps them somewhere else.
An adjacent wall is entirely covered in photos : her family, her close friends, casual team pictures, and a dog. They aren't nearly as focused on football as you would have thought, featuring snapshots from vacations, gatherings at relatives' homes, and candid moments in the streets of Barcelona. Some of them still feature pictures with trophies, but they aren’t dominating the space.
As you trace the images, a pair of arms slip around your waist. Alexia hugs you from behind, resting her weight against your back as she presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Can we go to sleep now ?” she murmurs. “I promise I'll give you the full tour tomorrow.”
You agree without hesitation. She has an incredibly important match tomorrow, and you refuse to steal another minute of her rest. But the second you step into her bedroom, you can’t stifle the laugh that escapes your lips. Sitting in a pristine, transparent showcase are her two Ballons d’Or. It’s the only trace of her football career in the entire room, but it’s a pretty shiny one.
“Really ?” you tease, gesturing toward the glass.
She shrugs. “They’re a reminder of why I’m doing all of this.”
“That is an incredibly flex-heavy reminder, just saying.”
She lets out a low chuckle. “Hey, don’t blame me because they’re gold.”
“Ale, you literally texted me a picture of your new Louis Vuitton bag two days ago,” you counter, turning to face her. “I know you have expensive taste. You absolutely love that they’re gold.”
“Maybe,” she murmurs. Before you can reply, she steps into your space, turning you back around so she can wrap her arms around your waist from behind. Pulling you flush against her chest, she leans in until her lips are brushing the shell of your ear, sending an immediate shiver down your spine. “Tomorrow after we’ve won,” she whispers, “I’m going to fuck you from behind while you’re staring at them.”
You choke on air and she smiles against the back of your neck. Alexia had said some filthy things to you in the heat of the moment before, but never a promise like this out of nowhere. You’re into it, so incredibly into it, and she knows it, or she wouldn’t have dared to say these words. You know she isn't even that confident about the match tomorrow, she just wanted to rile you up.
You deliberately press your ass back against her, grinning when you feel her entire posture go rigid. “If you win tomorrow,” you promise, lowering your voice. “I’ll let you do that. And much more.”
“It’s not fair considering we can’t do a single thing about it right now,” she complains, her hands tightening on your waist.
You twist out of her embrace, stepping back to gaze at her with an innocent smile. “You’re the one who started it, Ale.”
“And I deeply regret it now,” she groans, running a frustrated hand over her face.
You get ready for bed quietly, stealing a shirt and a pair of shorts from her drawer despite having packed your own. Ten minutes later, you’re both tucked under the sheets. Her bed is massive and ridiculously comfortable, the kind of warmth you never want to leave.
As you settle down, Alexia shifts until she’s lying half on top of you, her face completely hidden in the crook of your neck. You’ve figured out by now that this must be her favorite way to sleep. Her hand rests flat against your skin under your shirt, while yours settles on her ass, under her shorts. “Goodnight, amor,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.
“Goodnight, cariño,” she whispers back against your skin. You fall asleep quickly, comforted both by the weight of her body on yours and the deep tiredness left over from the game.
In the morning, Alexia’s stress is so palpable it’s almost painful to watch. You’re quite surprised, with Spain, she’s always so composed before the big games. You suppose this is what she actually looks like in the privacy of her own room. To counter it, you become extra tactile, and it seems to help her relax a little. She sits between your legs eating breakfast on the couch while rewatching the first leg.
Spending your morning analyzing tactical tape isn't your version of an off-day, but you find your own entertainment. Once your hands are free of the breakfast bowl, she lets you trace patterns along her skin and hold her close. As long as you don't interrupt her hyper-fixation on the match, she lets you do whatever you want. Definitely not a waste of time.
You handle lunch while she packs her gear bag, since she has to leave immediately after eating. The kitchen is vast and completely separated from the living room, a layout rare for modern builds like this, but Alexia had mentioned it was one of the details that made her buy the place. She wanders in toward the end, helping you set the table simply because she doesn't know what to do with her hands.
Alexia is buzzing with energy as you eat. You remember her saying that part of the reason her parents were so happy she played sports growing up was because it contained her energy. You understand that perfectly now.
“Can you still live text the game, even if you’re here ?” she asks.
You smile, leaning across the table to press a reassuring kiss to her lips. She sighs against your mouth, letting some of the tension drain out of her. “I will," you promise softly. "Go be great.”
You watch the video of her arriving at the stadium on Barça’s Instagram. She’s not exhibiting an ounce of stress. Her eyes are focused, her shoulders and jaw set, everything expected from the captain. It’s a far cry from the woman who was in this house earlier.
Seeing her that tense this morning felt like a time machine to the early national team days. Even if you weren’t close back then, she wasn’t very good at hiding her emotions. Jenni would spend pre-match hours half-teasing her, half-helping her calm down to the amusement of the rest of the squad. She grew up after that, the spotlight changes people, or at least it makes them learn exactly when to show their soft side.
You watched it all unfold from afar, but the changes were obvious. She had everything hitting her at the exact same time: winning the Ballon d’Or, breaking up with Jenni, claiming the first Champions League, dealing with the mess with the federation, taking the Spanish armband, tearing her ACL, handling becoming mainstream, and likely personal shit you don’t even know about.
She changed so much after that, you sometimes have trouble connecting her with the twenty-two-year-old version you first met. Now, her head always held high when there is an audience, media trained to the point she can’t give a wrong answer, the incarnation of control.
This morning was a reminder that people rarely change entirely, they grow up, learn what is expected of them, and try to act accordingly. Alexia does a fantastic job at that. You like the soft side she’s showing you better.
You don’t do much after Alexia leaves. It’s not hot enough to want to get into the pool, and though her morning tour left you incredibly impressed by the home gym, it’s supposed to be an off-day, and you know recovery is part of the job.
So you just hang around the house, looking at the pictures everywhere. You wander into her office where the trophies and medals are kept, feeling a pang of jealousy at the sheer number of them. You can't help but picture where your own career would be if Real Madrid actually invested the same kind of resources into their women's section. You know choosing happiness means accepting that yours might never look like this.
Stepping closer, you pick up a miniature Liga F replica, tracing the edge. You aren't even asking for a Champions League trophy right now, just a single domestic title. Looking around the room one last time, you shake your head, she truly has a ridiculous career. You can't help but wonder if she’s going to end up adding a third Ballon d'Or to her bedroom display this September.
You put the game on the TV as soon as the pre-game coverage starts. Alexia showed you use Disney+ three times this morning to be absolutely sure you would be able to watch it without problems. The TV is huge, the disproportionate kind of huge, making you suppose Alexia watches a ridiculous number of games on it.
The commentators are already hyping up the sold-out Camp Nou, discussing how Barça remain the heavy favorites despite carrying a one-goal deficit from the first leg. They also mention the possibility of Aitana being subbed in for her first minutes back from injury, a prospect that brings a smile to your face. The camera pans to the stars, focusing first on the Bayern side : Bühl, Harder, and Stanway.
It's striking how much the roster has turned over since you wore the red shirt. ovana is the only one you shared the pitch with for more than a single season. The others, Giulia, Linda, and Carolin were only there for your final year. It’s wild to think how long ago that was. You often forget you’ve already finished your fifth season with Madrid, the time has flown by so fast it doesn't even feel real.
You don’t hold any resentment toward Bayern. The club was supportive, and your teammates were nice enough. You were simply too young when you moved there. Navigating a foreign country at 18 while barely speaking a word of English at the start had been isolating. Bayern holds a complicated, slightly bittersweet spot in your history, but it’s a permanent spot nonetheless.
The broadcast cuts to the Blaugrana stars : Alexia, Irene, Pajor. They could have panned across the entire squad and the quality wouldn't have dropped, they're world-class top to bottom. You won't support Barça, doing so would violate your DNA. But you will be happy for Aitana and Alexia if they pull this off.
The football on display is elite. Backed by the Camp Nou crowd, Barcelona is a relentless machine. Their transitions are lethal, suffocating Bayern with the kind of possession structure very few squads can execute.
Bayern is holding on for dear life, knowing their only job is to avoid breaking. They manage to survive most of the first half, but in the 43rd minute, Patri delivers one of those ridiculous, line-breaking passes that only she can see. Alexia controls it perfectly. In an instant, she fires the shot past the keeper. Camp Nou explodes. Alexia bows to the crowd, and you hate yourself for the sudden surge of pride swelling in your chest.
The first half comes to an end under the applause of the crowd. Bayern knows they can’t have a second half like the first one if they want a shot at the trophy. The second half is indeed closer, with Bayern playing a little more daringly. There are chances on both sides, but nobody converts, leaving the goalkeepers screaming at their defenses.
Aitana comes in for Vicky at the 70th minute, and the whole stadium starts chanting her name, you’re seconds away from chanting it too in Alexia’s living room.
In the 85th minute, it’s Graham who makes Camp Nou explode. She gets past her defender and crosses it into the middle, where Pajor’s head is there to meet it and power it to the back of the net. Even through the TV, the noise the stadium makes is deafening, while the commentators scream Goal a hundred times.
The crowd is silenced in the 4th minute of additional time, however, when Bühl’s shot curls right into the top corner, away from Cata’s hands. The broadcast immediately captures Alexia’s reaction, because cameras apparently can’t stay away from her. Her jaw is set, her eyes dark. She has the face of a woman on a mission.
The match goes to extra time, and you’re instantly frustrated because it means Alexia will be coming home even later. Barça continues to dominate possession, but the chances are dead even. The players are visibly exhausted, shirts clinging to their skin, their runs losing their sharpness. In the last few minutes, everyone is starting to accept it’s going to penalties.
Then, deep into stoppage time, Eriksson clears a cross poorly. The ball ricochets directly off Tanikawa’s back and lands miraculously right at Alexia’s feet. She doesn’t hesitate for a single fraction of a second to shoot. It isn’t a great shot, it's nowhere near the posts and lacks any real power. But Mahmutovic didn’t anticipate the strike at all, and she's beaten cleanly.
It’s an ugly goal, everyone will admit that, but nobody at the Camp Nou cares. She whips her jersey over her head, the image instantly triggering your memory of the Bilbao final, which you'd been tortured into watching after losing a bet to Aitana. Her abs are flexing, the tattoos on her back are fully on display, and her entire team is sprinting frantically behind her.
The Bayern players collapse to the turf, utterly dejected. The entire stadium, maybe even the whole city of Barcelona, is chanting her name as she gives her legendary celebratory bow after being buried beneath a mountain of teammates.
You don’t get any news from Alexia until an hour after the game, when she’s finally in her ice bath. She apologizes for the wait, explaining that the media essentially kidnapped her before her teammates did the exact same thing. You have no problem believing that. She progressively replies to all your live texts, her excitement radiating through the screen.
She says you will continue the conversation in person since she has to go shower. Right before she logs off, she drops a link to a high-end Japanese restaurant. “Send me your order,” her message reads. “It’s celebration night.”
Aitana texts you back around the same time, thanking you for the congratulations on her comeback. She wastes no time roasting you for hate-watching her team. You aren't remotely in the mood to reveal your current location, wanting to let her just ride the high of the victory without complicating things with your personal life.
The moment she sees you, a true, entirely unguarded smile breaks across her face. She is still vibrating from the adrenaline of the win, the sheer energy radiating off her. She sets her things down on the floor, and you immediately step into her arms.
It takes a while for Alexia to fight her way out of Camp Nou. She keeps texting to keep you updated, and you let out a long exhale when she finally messages that she’s leaving, nearly two hours after the final whistle. When the front door finally clicks open, you turn to see her standing there in her Barça-issued tracksuit, a heavy gear bag slung over one shoulder and a massive bag of Japanese takeout in her other hand.
She lets out a frustrated groan against your throat but complies, giving you a sharp, parting nip on the lips. The absurd amount of food she ordered makes you laugh, running yourself into the ground for 120 minutes apparently creates a black hole in a midfielder’s stomach.
“Congrats, amor,” you murmur against her lips before capturing them in a deep kiss. She reciprocates instantly, her fingers gripping your hips tightly. When she starts to drive you back against the wall, you reluctantly break away with a grin. “I’m actually starving, and the food is still warm.”
It’s totally not respecting your diet, but you let it slide. You both settle on the couch, her legs draped over your lap. She boldly tries to negotiate putting the match replay on the big screen, but one lethal look from you silences the idea instantly.
You can’t keep the image of her shirtless out of your mind. The knowledge that thousands of people were screaming for the exact woman who belongs entirely to you tonight. The sheer possessiveness of the thought is intoxicating. The second you both finish eating, you slide across the cushions to settle onto her lap, nipping playfully at her earlobe.
“Remember your little promise from last night, captain ?” you whisper against her skin. “I think you deserve that, don’t you think ?”
Alexia’s entire body goes rigid before a dark look takes over her eyes. Without a word, she hooks her arms under your thighs and hoists you up, carrying you toward the bedroom. She nearly loses her footing and drops you midway down the hall when you lean in to bite down hard on her neck, a ragged gasp escaping her lips.
She tosses you onto the mattress a bit unceremoniously, and climbs on top of you without a shred of hesitation. The kiss that follows isn't remotely tentative, her tongue claims your mouth in seconds while her hands slide eagerly under your shirt. It’s the first time she’s taken charge like this since you started sleeping together, and you're more than happy to let her.
She pulls the shirt over your head and trails a line of burning kisses down your neck. You arch instinctively against her body, drawing a smug smile from her lips. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of you?” you manage to murmur. “You’re the one who won.”
At first, you aren't even sure she heard you as she continues to press her lips to your skin, slowly licking a path up your jawline to your ear. “You don’t get it,” she breathes against your skin, her voice dark. “This is my prize for winning.”
She nips your earlobe softly, careful with her teeth because she knows you aren't a fan of that so early on. A sudden, violent wave of heat spreads through your entire body at her words, pooling heavily between your thighs. If she stays in this mood all night, it’s going to be an unforgettable one.
You yank at the hem of her top, and she discards it without breaking eye contact. She’s left in her sports bra, the exact image that you saw on a screen earlier. You swallow hard, your hands mapping the defined ridges of her torso while she reaches up to tie her hair. The second her hands are free, she traps your wrists against the mattress above your head.
A brief flicker of surprise crosses your features, and you immediately watch her confidence falter. Her grip loosens. “Tell me if I’m doing too much," she murmurs, her eyes scanning yours. "Or if you don’t like this.”
You easily slip one hand free, reaching up to gently cup her jaw and pull her down into a soft, grounding kiss. It’s entirely different from the frantic heat of before, meant purely to reassure her. “It’s incredibly hot, don’t worry," you whisper against her lips. "I promise I'll tell you if it's too much.”
To prove your point, you give her jaw a teasing bite before dropping your head back down, deliberately placing your wrist back above your head. It’s an unmistakable green light. Instantly, that fierce, confident smile returns to her face.
She's dragging it out, weaponizing her patience in a way that is driving you crazy, but the sheer pleasure on her face makes it impossible to stop her. You fight a losing battle with yourself to keep your hands pinned above your head, failing miserably the second her warm tongue connects with your nipple.
“Hands,” Alexia murmurs against your wet skin, a smirk evident in her tone. “Keep them up.”
You groan in protest but snap your wrists back against the mattress, desperate for her to continue. The sensory overload of her playing with your breasts has you completely unraveled, you're slick and aching without a single touch of any kind below your waist.
Whenever you try to grind your hips upwards to find some relief, she pins you down, shutting down the movement instantly. Sweating and desperate, you genuinely need her between your legs, in whatever way she wants to take you. “Ale, please. Hurry the fuck up,” you pant.
She just lets out a soft laugh, looking up at you from your chest. Dios, her eyes are dark, so completely different from how bright and sparkly they were when she first walked through the front door. “You have absolutely no patience,” she taunts. She is incredibly lucky she scored that winning goal.
“Next time, I’m tying you up,” you promise, your voice tight with desperation. “And we will see how patient you are then.”
A lethal smile touches her lips. “Bet.” She sinks her teeth into your midriff. The sharp spike of pleasure catches in your throat. “Until then,” she whispers, capturing your gaze, “you are entirely mine to play with. Hands back up, captain’s orders.” You let out a whimper, knowing you would die of embarrassment if you could see yourself right now.
You manage to obey the captain’s order, though your fingers curl into fists against the sheets when she finally discards your clothes and drags her mouth along your inner thighs.
“Ale, please,” you beg. You absolutely hate having to beg, but you legitimately can’t help it right now. Every muscle in your arms is shaking with the effort it takes not to grab her jaw and pull her directly where you want her. Since begging isn't working, you pivot to a challenge. “I know how badly you want to taste me.”
She looks up at you, thoroughly amused by your shifting tactics. “I will get to taste you later, cariño. But this position right now is the only one where I get to hear you whimpering and begging.”
A defiant smirk cuts through your desperation. “There are a dozen different ways to get me to beg and whimper, Putellas. You just have to be inventive enough to figure them out.”
She freezes instantly. You hear the faint, rough Joder she mumbles directly against your skin. For a second, she seems entirely torn between speeding up because she wants it just as badly, or continuing to torture you a bit longer
She pushes up onto her extended arms, towering over you so she can take you in completely. A hopelessly cocky smile slowly spreads across her face, but you are far gone enough that you can only find it incredibly sexy. “I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re absolutely wrecked,” she gloats.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you pant. It doesn’t sound anywhere near as sarcastic as you wanted it to, you are completely stripped of the focus required for a proper attitude. You try to rub your thighs together for relief, but her legs are heavily pinning yours down, completely shutting down the movement.
Alexia reaches up and grabs your left hand, tightly interlacing her fingers with yours and pulling them down onto your stomach, leaving a quiet command for you to keep your right hand pinned above your head. Her free hand anchors firmly on your hip, anchoring you in place as she finally lowers her body between your thighs.
She keeps her gaze locked straight on yours as she licks you for the very first time. The moan that tears from your throat isn't loud, but it is deep, heavy, and throaty. “Dios, you’re so wet,” she breathes against your skin.
Any potential comeback is instantly swallowed as her tongue strokes over you again. Your eyes snap shut, your free right hand blindly clawing into the pillow for support. You completely lose your mind when she focuses all her attention directly on your clit. Apparently, she’s done teasing you and wants to see just how fast she can push you over the edge.
The answer turns out to be embarrassingly fast, especially considering she hasn't even used her fingers. Your entire body spasms as a violent wave of pleasure takes over, and as she climbs up your body to press heavy, hot kisses to your neck while your breathing recovers, you weakly mutter for her to shut up.
You begin to run your hands over her back, sliding your fingers under the elastic straps of her sports bra to pull her body closer to yours. “My turn,” you whisper. “What do you want?”
Alexia smirks, her palms tracing slow circles on your ribs. “Nice try. I distinctly remember saying I was the one doing the work tonight.”
You look up at her, genuinely frustrated. “Are you sure about that ?” To force her to reconsider, you let your hands drift lower, gripping her ass firmly. She lets out a small, involuntary groan but chooses to kiss you deeply instead of answering, her fingers mapping your skin to distract you.
“You really are an ass girl, aren’t you?” she laughs against your mouth.
You smile back, letting your hands slide beneath the waistband of her sweatpants to grip her bare skin. “You have to admit, you have a great ass.”
To your amusement, Alexia actually blushes. Considering what you two are currently doing in this bed, you find it hilarious that she still reacts like that to a simple compliment. “Fine,” you relent. “If I can’t take care of you, at least take the rest of your clothes off.”
Alexia doesn’t obey immediately, clearly too occupied trailing her hands over your skin and peppering kisses down your neck. Impatient, you arch your hips upward to urge her along. She lets out a low laugh against your throat. “I thought being a world-class defender required patience.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my job, it’s not the same. I’m not in a football kit right now, unlike you,” you say, playing with the hem of her Barça sweatpants to emphasize your point.
Alexia finally relents, slipping off the bed with a challenge in her eyes. “If you want to see me naked that badly...” You thoroughly enjoy the view as she pulls her sports bra over her head, followed smoothly by her sweatpants and underwear. “Happy?” she asks, a smug expression on her face as she crawls back into bed and pins you beneath her weight.
“Infinitely,” you hum against her lips as she kisses you deeply. You waste no time letting your hands roam freely over her bare skin. The moment your fingers glide down to trace the inside of her thighs, a triumphant smirk pulls at your lips. “ Fuck, you’re soaked.”
Alexia quickly catches your wrist to pull your hand away, drawing a frustrated groan from your lips. “I have a plan, don’t worry,” she promises breathlessly.
She shifts her weight, sliding her thighs securely between yours. A sharp groan escapes her throat, her head throwing back the exact moment she locks into place against you. You grip her hips firmly to guide her, tilting your pelvis until you catch the friction, a deep moan torn from your lungs as you align.
It is pure electricity, feeling her clit friction flawlessly against yours, hearing the ragged noises she’s making while the exact same pleasure builds inside you. The best part about her house is the complete privacy, you both can be as loud as you want without bothering a soul. Your nails dig deep into her hips, while her own fingers lock securely into the soft flesh of your thigh.
You both are at a loss of words, utterly lost in the sensation. Alexia is more vocal than you, as always, and you greedily drink in every hitching breath and whimper she makes. Watching her ride you like this, her abs and biceps flexing with every rhythmic push, is an intoxicating turn-on that drags you toward the edge, again, at a terrifying speed.
Your movements grow increasingly frantic and messy as the friction brings you both to the brink. She shatters first, crying out loudly as her hips jerk uncontrollably against yours. The intense friction immediately triggers your own release, sending you crashing over the edge right along with her. You pant heavily, gripping her hips so tightly you're certain you'll leave bruises.
Alexia collapses completely against your chest, her breathing ragged and uneven. You wrap your arms securely around her, holding her close. “That felt amazing,” you whisper against her temple, pressing a soft kiss there. Post-win Alexia is definitely something you wouldn't mind experiencing again, even if it means Barcelona keeps winning.
“There’s still one thing left to do,” she says, a lethal smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. You arch an eyebrow, genuinely not seeing where she’s going with this. “Do you remember what I promised you yesterday ?” She points her chin toward the gleaming Ballons d’Or across the room, and your entire body instantly hits with a violent wave of heat in anticipation. You absolutely love post-win Alexia.
She slides off the mattress, pulls open a dresser drawer, and retrieves a sleek box, tossing it onto the bed right next to you. “Pick your poison.” You pop the lid open and shoot an amused look her way when you're met with seven different dildos of varying sizes. She shrugs defiantly, but you can clearly see the pink blush creeping up her neck and onto the top of her chest.
“You’re the winner tonight, so you get to choose,” you argue.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not the one getting it inside me.”
Fair enough. You select one of the average sizes, purely because you want to get fucked fast and are not in the mood for a ton of preparation. Alexia doesn’t comment on your choice, silently buckling the harness around her hips and snapping the toy into place.
“On all fours, facing that way,” she commands, pointing directly toward the golden trophies. You can't help but smile as you comply.
You drop into position without a second thought. Watching her dominate the bedroom is a massive turn-on, and you want her inside you as soon as humanly possible. She presses her palms firmly against your shoulders, pushing you down to make you bend further. The distinct click of her opening the bottle of lube echoes through the quiet room, making your muscles clench in pure anticipation.
“You don’t need to use your fingers to ready me,” you breathe out, your voice tight. “I just want to take you.”
You hear Alexia take a sharp, deep breath at your words, steadying her own racing pulse. “Tell me if it’s too much at any moment, yeah ?”
You agree instantly, nodding blindly. Her right hand clamps down securely on your hip, and you instinctively push yourself backward against her, feeling the cold slickness of the lube-coated toy graze your skin.
“Always so eager,” she mocks softly, her voice thick. She cuts the talking there, centering the head of the toy against your tight opening. You take a deep breath, consciously untangling the knots in your stomach as she slowly begins to drive forward. The intense, stretching fullness is incredible, and a long, broken groan escapes your lips.
Because of how wet you are from her previous ministrations and the lube, she encounters absolutely no resistance as she slowly pushes inside. Alexia lets out a rough groan the moment she bottoms out, the base of the toy pressing firmly against her clit. “Ale, you feel so good,” you pant, encouraging her as her left hand slides up to caress the curve of your bare back.
Her thrusts are experimental at first, carefully testing your limits. But the moment she realizes she isn't going to break you, her rhythm turns harder, rougher. She anchors her left hand firmly onto your shoulder to steady her weight while she pistons into you with a bruising, unrelenting pace.
Overwhelmed by the friction, you try to turn your head to the side to handle the depth, but her fingers instantly find your jaw, turning your face back toward the front of the room. “No. Look straight ahead at the Ballons d’Or.”
The sheer, unadulterated cockiness of it completely shatters whatever restraint you had left. You lock your eyes forward on the golden trophies. They are impossibly shiny in the dim light, the polished glass of the display case capturing the blurred, rhythmic reflection of her body driving entirely into yours.
The wet, smacking sound her hips make each time they slam against yours is completely obscene, turning you on in a way you never saw coming. The angle she's working from behind is hitting perfectly, threatening to throw you over the edge on internal stimulation alone. When she tries to slide her thumb down to touch your clit, you gently nudge her hand away, knowing you would get too close to overstimulation.
You have absolutely no idea how Alexia still has this much energy, if you had just played 120 minutes of elite football, you would have definitely tapped out by now. Instead, her movements remain incredibly powerful and fast, quickly reducing you to a breathless, moaning mess beneath her.
The next orgasm catches you completely by surprise. You weren't expecting it to be this easy after already coming twice, but Alexia slightly shifts her weight, hitting a spot deep inside you just right. Your walls instantly clamp down around the toy, and you can feel Alexia gasp, taken aback by your sudden, violent release.
Panting against the pillows, you reach your limit. “Too much,” you manage to murmur, shoving back against her thighs. Alexia obeys instantly, sliding out of you with a heavy exhale and removing the harness from her hips. As soon as you’re able to, you pull her down, using your mouth and fingers to make her completely fall apart in a matter of minutes.
The adrenaline evaporates all at once, leaving both of you completely heavy and drained. You melt into her chest, dead weight against her body as she wraps her arms around you, her thumb idly stroking your hip. “We need to shower,” you murmur into her collarbone.
She lets out a dramatic groan at the mere idea of standing up, but somehow, you both manage to drag yourselves out of bed. The shower is a quick, functional affair, purely because your bodies are screaming to get back under the covers.
Soon enough, you’re tangled up in the exact same position as before. The sheets smell intensely of sex, but neither of you has a shred of energy to change them, so you gladly let it slide. You reach over to set your alarm for Monday morning, and Alexia sleepily kisses your shoulder, promising she'll drive you to the airport. You drift in the dark, murmuring quiet nonsense to each other until sleep finally claims you both.
Alexia is incredibly grumpy the next morning, complaining that you completely messed up her sleep schedule and made her sore. In your opinion, it’s more the fault of the game she played yesterday but whatever. She’s also fiercely cuddly and touchy as you get ready, which more than makes up for the attitude.
The drive to the airport is filled with Alexia’s playlist blasting through the speakers and you complaining about the morning training session you are thoroughly convinced you won't survive. You look over at Alexia’s profile, her sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She is so fucking beautiful. You ache to trace her jawline with your thumb and bite down on her neck right then and there, but you decide that’s a terrible idea while she’s navigating traffic. If she catches you staring, she doesn’t comment on it.
Goodbyes are the same as usual, making out intensely in the car after parking as far from the terminal entrance as possible. It’s especially hard today, considering neither of you knows exactly when you’ll see each other again with her hectic schedule to end the season.
“Thanks for coming,” she says softly, her face close to yours, her eyes earnest now that her sunglasses are pushed to the top of her head. “I know I wasn’t the most available this weekend, but it meant a lot. Truly.”
“Don’t worry, you more than made up for your lack of availability last night,” you tease against her lips. You kiss her again, both of you moving slowly this time, intentionally taking the time to memorize each other. “I had a great time as a whole.”
She smiles, and you both finally step out of the car before you actually miss your flight. The moment your feet hit the pavement, your interactions shift completely, neither of you wants to draw public attention. She casually helps you with your bags, and you exchange a simple, disciplined goodbye before parting ways.
-----------
The absolute first thing Alexia does when she walks through her front door is face-plant straight back into her bed to crash. She finally emerges late in the morning, immediately checking her phone. Seeing your message confirming you have landed safely, a soft smile tugs at her lips as she reacts with a simple heart. She also notices a text from Alba asking about hanging out tonight; not thinking much of it, Alexia types out a quick, No problem.
Considering it’s an official rest day, she spends the vast majority of it curled up on the couch, watching the latest Bayern Munich match and meticulously taking notes on her tablet.
The analytical silence doesn't last. Her screen flashes with a barrage of incoming texts from the group chat she shares with Misa, Irene, Mariona, Laia, and Jenni.
Misa : Okay, so you all remember the whole thing about y/n seeing an English player during camp ? I think Vicky wasn’t saying bullshit. Y/n was literally in London this weekend. She’s saying she was just seeing a random girl but I don’t believe her. @Mariona @Laia I need you all to figure this out.
Alexia furrows her brows at the message. She feels the jealousy, an ugly feeling at the pit of her stomach. Then her brain catches up. Oh she’s the girl you were talking about. She has no idea how you’ve managed to throw the goalkeeper off so much.
Irene : How does that concern us ?
Misa : Oh I know you don’t care about gossip but I want it. Especially if it’s about y/n and another football player.
Jenni : I feel like I’ve missed a few episodes
Jenni : Goodie two shoes was sneaking out at camp ? Seems out of character
Mariona : Yeah, but you didn’t see her last camp she was acting really weird. And she didn’t sleep in her and Vicky room after our England game
Jenni : Wait, miss “I’m too good to be friendly with people that don’t wear the Real Madrid jersey” was put in the same room as Vicky ? That’s hilarious she must have gone crazy
Misa : You’re harsh her bf is literally Aitana
Jenni : Yeah but that’s like the only Barça player she hangs out with. She barely tolerates Mariona since she’s with Arsenal
Alexia considers defending you, but thinks it would be weird, so she just shuts up and let them talk, the game is on pause in the background.
Laia : She actually entertained the kid, to everyone surprise. Vicky got out of her that y/n thinks Misa is the hottest on the team
Jenni : Why do they don’t select me when something interesting like that happens ? Her getting bullied is my jam
Alexia rolls her eyes, Jenni doesn’t like you, to say the least. You’ve never been the friendliest person during camps, mostly staying with players you already know, and often avoiding Barça players not named Aitana. You never taking a stand against the federation was the final nail in the coffin, especially considering you benefited from it. The vice-captain position, always in the front for media and ad campaign. Jenni also isn’t a huge fan of Real, it didn’t help.
There’s some uneasiness, because Alexia distinctly remembers criticizing you along with Jenni a few times. Then she remembers you making lunch for her yesterday before her game and she feels terrible.
Misa : She told me she actually lied to Vicky and that I was only the safe answer
Misa : My heart was broken
Irene : I’m once again asking why does her personal life concerns us ? She’s not even close to anyone here except Misa
The moans she got out of you while Alexia was fucking you from behind resonate in her head. Alexia doesn't lie to her close circle. She's never been that person. The guilt is starting to eat at her. It’s one thing to say nothing, another one to ignore it when they’re straight about talking about it. She almost sends something, but then the chat moves on.
Irene : Wait, are you interested in her ?
Misa : NO
Misa : That’s my bro
Misa : Nothing more
Mariona : Ngl I’m happy about that
Laia : I think you resent her too much for how she acted with the federation
Mariona : It’s not about that, or like not totally
Jenni : No one here was friends with her way before this happened
Jenni : Let’s say it confirmed my opinion of her
Irene : I’m not in this group to read all of you criticize one of our teammates
Jenni : Oh come on don’t start acting like you like her
Irene : I don’t, which is why I don’t talk about her. So once again, why are we discussing it ?
Misa : I’m asking Mariona and Laia for intel
Mariona : Fine we will ask around at Arsenal
Jenni : Now can we come back to something. “The safe answer” ? That’s a weird thing to say. It’s also an asshole move to lie in a bet but that doesn’t surprise me. What did she got in exchange ?
Misa : I think some info from Vicky ? She didn’t say much
Alexia is tempted to send you a text to ask, but it would be admitting that this conversation is going on to you. It doesn’t seem like a great idea.
Mariona : Wdym by it’s a weird thing to say ?
Jenni : Well that kinda means she didn’t want to say the true answer to Vicky
Jenni : And like why would it be shameful
Jenni : Imagine if it’s actually a Spanish player she was sneaking up with
Laia : There’s no way for it to happen with our double rooms
Laia : I mean only Ale has a single room. Are you sleeping with her @Alexia ?
Alexia heart genuinely stops for a second, then two, then three. She exhales when she sees everyone leaving a laughing emoji on the message, even Irene.
Alexia : I leave you all unsupervised for 20 minutes and this is what happens … ?
Jenni : We needed to say that for you to appear ?
Alexia : Laia @ me, I was rewatching the Bayern game
Mariona : Pls no talk about Champions League rn.
Arsenal were eliminated by Lyon on Saturday, Alexia understand it being a touchy subject.
Laia : You do realize we can see that you’ve been reading it all along, right ?
Alexia goes for the safe answer in this group : not responding.
Misa : If our only option is Alexia, we can for sure say we’re back on the English player path
Laia : I mean… Alexia did you slept with her ?
Alexia : Do I really need to answer that ?
Alexia : No.
Jenni : She doesn’t feel like Ale’s type
Jenni : Ale doesn’t need someone who’s even more of a control freak and a law follower than her
Alexia : I’m gonna leave this group for good
Laia : Is Jenni wrong ?
Jenni isn’t wrong per se, but Alexia doesn’t really think you fit what they’re describing, at least from the time she’s been spending with you and talking to you recently.
Misa : She’s surprisingly chill outside of football
Misa : But Alexia is absolutely not her type. Ale is too much of a football nerd, y/n can’t stand that
Okay Alexia is a bit offended now. You’ve been letting her talk about football things, about tactics and the upcoming games. Have you been secretly hating that and just been waiting for her to shut up ? Alexia thinks back to all her rants about Bayern, were you just being nice ?
Alexia : Yeah I’m a football nerd because all my friends are assholes. Football never disappoints
Irene : That’s a very questionable statement
Alexia : Is anyone willing to support me today ?
The thumbs down reaction on her message tells her everything she needs to know.
Alexia : And then you all wonder why I don’t answer
Jenni : y/n isn’t as big as a football nerd as Ale ? I’m genuinely surprised
Misa : They’re very similar in the way they follow their diets, training, sleep schedule and recovery like psychos. But y/n does it because it’s her job, Ale does it because she has a problem with football
Misa : Like if I hang out with y/n and start talking about tactics got the upcoming game she will kill me
Alexia thinks about your live-texting of her games, and she’s thoroughly confused.
Misa : Even with Aitana they don’t speak much about football itself, I think
Jenni : A Merengue that doesn’t like to talk about football tactics ? Can they room together for next camp it could be fun
Alexia is a bit offended that everyone thinks she talks about football so much. She doesn’t. Right ?
Alexia : I have a single room as the captain, remember ?
Mariona : Wait I just remembered something
Laia : Dangerous
Mariona : Do you all remember what Mapi said she heard during camp
Alexia : Oh no
Jenni : I WASN’T HERE YOU IDIOTS
Alexia : Mariona and everyone here I beg you to shut up
Jenni : You can’t do that to me
Jenni : I’m gonna text Mapi to ask her
Alexia : Don’t do that she will overblown everything
Jenni : Then tell me
Laia : I don’t think there’s another way to say it than Mapi and Fiamma heard Ale have phone sex
Jenni : NO
Jenni : I can’t breath rn
Alexia : Kill me
Irene : I hate this group
Jenni : Ale is it true ?
Jenni and her are friends now, but it still feels very weird to discuss her sex life with someone she dated for seven years.
Alexia : I’m not saying her name
Jenni : You’re not fun
Alexia : That girl disagrees
Mariona : Are you feeling well Ale ?
Laia : She’s trying to end this conversation
Jenni : You all are going to hell for not telling that to me as soon as you heard about it
Jenni : But it’s the beginning of the day here, and it couldn’t have started better
Mariona : We were too focused making fun of her, sorry
Mariona : So Ale is that serious with this girl ?
Alexia takes a second to answer, because she hasn’t asked that to herself enough. What are you two even doing ? She has no idea, and Alexia hates situations where she’s underprepared. She, not for the first time recently, asks herself how she got to this point.
Alexia : It’s casual
Irene : Since when do you do “casual” ?
Jenni : It means the girl wants casual and Ale doesn’t know how to say she’s not the casual type
Alexia : Fuck off
Jenni : Thanks for telling me I’m right
Misa : This group better be the first to be told if you two become official
Misa : Or if you need advice on how to transform it into not casual anymore
Alexia : I’m never asking for love advice here
Alexia : And you will be the last to be told
Alexia : Ok maybe second last, before the Barça kids because they will tell everyone
Jenni : Rude.
To Alexia’s relief, the conversation stops there. She was pretty afraid they were gonna make the connection between you and the noises in her room. Good that they think you two are so incompatible, she supposes. It was actually a bit hard to read that. People like Jenni that don’t know you don’t bother her, Misa does a lot more.
Alexia presses play on the Bayern game, but five minutes later she realizes she hasn't registered a single pass. Her phone is still open to the group chat. She closes it.
Alba arrives not long after Alexia finishes the game, even if she didn't reach any important conclusion from it considering how hazy her mind was. They settle outside on the patio, catching the late afternoon breeze with a quick drink and some olives. Alba pours herself a glass of wine while Alexia sticks to lemonade, refusing to touch alcohol during the season. Despite that being the case for literally years now, Alba still can’t resist teasing her about her discipline, rolling her eyes with an affectionate smirk.
At first, the conversation is the usual. Alexia talks about the game against Bayern and Alba about how the kids are at school. Then, because Alexia knew there was a true reason her sister came here, the conversation deviates. “Soooo, what’s her name.”
Alexia feigns innocence. “Who ?”
Alba rolls her eyes. “I’m supposed to believe you just really want to go home last night despite the how good your game was ? Not even accepting to have dinner with us ? And you looked very in a hurry on top of that.” Alexia winces, she’s in a bad position to lie, she’s a terrible liar anyway. “I was nice enough to not badger you in front of mama yesterday. Come on spill.”
“It hasn’t been going on for long, it’s not that important, we’re not even officially together. It’s been a little more than 3 weeks.” Alexia mumbles, eyes fixated on the sun reflecting on her swimming pool to not have to look at Alba.
“You ditched us for a girl you’ve been seeing for 3 weeks and aren’t even dating ?” Alba says, scandalized. Then there’s a pause, a long one, it forces Alexia to look at her sister. There’s a dangerous flicker of recognition in her eyes. “Weren’t you in the Spanish camp three weeks ago ?”
Alexia had no idea Alba would make that connection, her sister doesn’t care about football. Alexia should have anticipated that Alba knows her schedule more or less. Fuck, that was a huge mistake on her part. Alexia can feel her whole face heating up, she knows she’s giving it away. “Alba–”
“Don’t Alba me.” Her sister didn’t even look this delighted when Alexia gifted her some very expressive jewelry last Christmas. “I want a name, or I’m gonna start guessing and you’re gonna be horrified.”
Alexia groans internally. She’s going to tell Alba at the end anyway, getting it over it might be the best plan. “Y/n Y/l/n.”
Alba is in enough football circles, despite her dislike for the sport, to make the immediate connection. “Real Madrid captain ? The one who captains Spain when you’re not here ?” Alexia nods. “You know Alexia, you’re so predictable in every aspect of your life and then there are the women you date.”
Alexia furrows her brows. “What is that supposed to mean ?”
Alba shots her a no-bullshit stare. “It’s just that if it’s not mistaken, she’s been playing with you for ages, I think. You two have never been close, not even a little bit and you go straight to dating her ?”
“I’ve hanged out with enough footballers to know she’s not the most liked one out there. I remember you rambling about her during when the Spanish federation were being dicks even more than right now.” Alba sighs. “Most of the players are kinda like great footballer, but not particularly close to her as a person. A few of them genuinely dislike her.”
These words hurt, because it’s what has been going on non-stop in Alexia’s mind for hours. It must show on her face, because Alba tried to smoothen her words, saying jokingly. “And dating the Real Madrid captain of all people Ale ?”
“We’re not dating,” Alexia defends quickly, she can’t ignore the exasperated look on Alba’s face. “We talked during last camp and I don’t know.” Alexia shrugs. “We just hit off well I suppose. We never really talked like that in the past and then the occasion came and it just… happened.”
Alba looks at her sister up and down, still unconvinced. “You don’t let things just happen.”
“Camp is always a particular environment. It’s close-off, I don’t really have the time to relax and go home to think. She was there and easy to talk to and Vicky was annoying her, so she was with me all the time. I couldn’t even overthink honestly.”
“You’re talking about camp, but she was here in Barcelona, so it didn’t stop there.” There’s a pause, then Alba furrows her brows. “Wait did you invent the event in Madrid last week as an excuse ?”
Alba seems seconds away from rethinking everything she knows about Alexia. “No, the event was real. I might have stayed the night in Madrid which wasn’t in the original plan.” Alexia avoids her sister’s eyes at the admission, she can feel the ears get hotter. “And she’s just so easy to relax with. I don’t need to explain her football, and we talk about lot of things, and we laugh, we text each other stupid shit.” Alexia’s throws her head back, closing her eyes. “I don’t know Alba it’s just so simple when it’s just the two of us.”
“Is that about the sex ?” Alba asks jokingly, bursting out laughing when Alexia becomes as red as a tomato in the span of 2 seconds.
“Alba !” Alexia says, scandalized. She knows her sister likes to broach this subject just because it embarrasses her, but it still work every time. “I’m not talking about…” She gestures vaguely with her hands. “that with you. What even tells you we’ve done it.”
Alba looks thoroughly entertained. “Your reaction just now tells me that. Also when you said “just happened” it was pretty clear what you meant.” Alba wiggles her eyebrows, Alexia reddens even more. “I will get it out of you this summer.” Alba knows Alexia is talkative when drunk, that’s the only way to get this type of information out of her, but it works well to Alexia’s dismay. They already have a planned trip to Mexico.
“We might not be seeing each other by then.” Alexia tries to deflect. She wants to keep seeing you, maybe. She will need to sit down and think about it seriously at one point.
Apparently, Alba is trying to quicken Alexia’s reflections. “First, you’re shit at casual.” Why does everyone say that ? “And you sound really into her when you talk.” Alexia doesn’t want to think about that, that’s something for later. Alba tries to read her sister’s face, she likely can’t because she sighs heavily. “Ale you’re seeing the vice-captain of your national team. It would be a stupid idea for it to be casual. It’s even stupider to go for it without taking the time to actually think about it. You’re the OG overthinker you should know that.”
Alexia lets out a humorless laugh. “I know what the rational choice is, but I’m not sure that’s what I want. So I just don’t think about it.” Alba always had a way to make her talk about things she buried deep. Alexia doesn’t particularly like it.
“What makes you so hesitant ?” Alba softens, seeing her sister has lot of things twirling in her head, which isn’t unusual.
“We were talking earlier on the group chat.” Alba furrows her brows, Alexia immediately clarifies. “Irene, Jenni, Mariona, Laia and Misa.” Alexia swallows hard the lump in her throat from the memory. “They genuinely dislike her, Alba, and I just can’t date someone my close friends dislike.”
Alba eyes her. “You changed your mind, they can too.”
Alexia works her bottom lip. “I just shouldn’t have let it happen. Like I just had to resist 3 or 4 days of camp. Then outside of it it’s so easy to avoid her. I just let my control slip. Imagine the ruckus it would cause if it ever reaches the media ears.” Alexia panics, already seeing the frontpages in her head.
“Ale calm down,” Alba says with force. “You can’t live your life basing it on what people you don’t even know will say.”
“Everyone will criticize it, Alba. But I can’t back down now, can I ?” Alexia laughs humorlessly.
Alba sighs, it reminds her of past conversations with Alexia, where her sister never listened. “You can always back down from relationships, especially when they’ve been going on for less than a month. I know you won’t hear it, but it’s okay to break up with people.” Alexia avoids her gaze, Alba knows it means she’s not listening. “But if you do like her, I would say to go for it.”
“But people–” Alexia gets interrupted.
“You have the right to want things for yourself, you know,” Alba states. “But just don’t get in a relationship with the captain of Real Madrid without thinking of everything that comes with it, including the distance.” There’s the silent understanding between them about Alexia’s last relationship exploding because Olga was living in Madrid and Alexia was staying in Barcelona. Looking back it wasn’t the only problem, but that was the tipping point.
“I’m terrified of letting it go further and then realizing it won’t work because of our friends,” Alexia admits.
Alba sighs. “Ale, you’re acting as if she killed someone. There’s nothing unsolvable here.”
Alexia taps her fingers on the table, looking at the reflection of the sun on the surface on her swimming pool. “I hope you’re right,” she answers with a small voice.
That seems to satisfy Alba “Now come on tell me about her and how it happened, I want to know everything.”
Alexia smiles, grateful that Alba is letting the seriousness go to a territory Alexia is more comfortable with. Alexia tells the whole story to Alba, still not telling the spicy parts, making her sister complain about being told an “incomplete story”. Alexia also carefully avoid the contract part, you told her something that was supposed to be private, she can respect that. Also because Alba runs her tongue too much.
When her sister leaves later, Alexia feels heavier. She knows she has some thinking to do, she’s not sure she wants the conclusions of said thinking.
Later that night, Alexia opens her text thread with you. She starts recording a voice note with her takeaways from the game against Bayern, then she remembers the football nerd comments and just deletes it without sending anything.
-----------
A/n : I wasn't planning to include smut in this one, thought about Alexia fucking her while looking at the Ballons d'or and I just couldn't not write it.
Also I hope Alexia's POV doesn't feel too much like an info dump. They're very sporadic and are there to show things that r is entirely blind to. I also think it's the right moment to know what worries Ale.
summary: you've always wanted to impress your captain. you just never imagined how far she'd let you go to prove it. (or reader has a praise kink)
tags / contains: 18+, praise kink, captain!Patri, smut, shower sex, fingering r!receiving, cunnilingus patri!receiving, intense yearning, masturbation, mouth muffling, loud!reader, captain x stargirl, implied age gap, reality where patri is first captain after alexia leaves, wc: 6.8k
masterlist | please do not plagiarize, repost without consent or feed to ai!
goddamn, i wanna undress you
i wanna impress you ‧₊˚ ✩ ₊˚ ⊹
‧₊˚ ✩ ₊˚ ⊹ “You did really great out there,” Patri’s voice echoed in your head.
An airy moan escaped your mouth as you moved your fingers hastily in a circular motion, pressed against the heat gathering between your thighs. Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes shut hard as you repeated her voice in your head over and over, rubbing yourself faster as you remembered the smirk on her face as she said it. You bit your bottom lip hard, choking down the moans that threatened to escape your lips.
The tension inside your body wound tighter, muscles clenching with anticipation as your fingers moved faster, tracing the memory of Patri’s words from the past weeks, each one driving you closer and closer to the edge.
“You did so good today.”
“Stunning goal.”
“That’s my stargirl.”
And, just like that, you were coming undone, arching your back involuntarily, pressing your own core against your hands as you rode out your orgasm. You tried to bite your bottom lip, not wanting your roommate to hear the soft gasps and moans you couldn’t keep in.
As soon as you came off your high, you felt the shame quickly replace the pleasure in your body, feeling embarrassed of yourself, that you let yourself get off again to the thought of your captain, Patri Guijarro.
‧₊˚ ✩ ₊˚ ⊹ There were a lot of reasons why you really pushed for the transfer to Barcelona.
There was the sporting aspect; Barcelona was the best club in women’s football now and they produced the best players in the world. Also, it was a club you’ve supported since you were young. The fact that you could live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world also was a great bonus.
These were all the reasons you gave to your agent. The one major thing you forgot to mention was the fact that you just really wanted to play alongside Patri Guijarro.
You’ve always admired Patri.
Even before transferring to Barcelona, you always looked up to her, watching highlight clips of her online and trying your best to recreate her moves. So when the offer from Barcelona arrived, there had been no hesitation. You knew this was your one and only chance to play alongside her.
And you had no regrets. Barcelona was everything you hoped it would be and Patri was even better than you imagined.
She was a great teammate, and an even better captain, much to your surprise.
Patri was the kind of captain who made training feel lighter.She cracked jokes mid-drill, mimicked Pere's cadence and accent when he wasn't looking, turned sprints into silly competitions. That was not to say that she wasn’t strong and steady when it counted.
As fun and silly as she could be, she was also incredibly capable and amazing. She guided the team without ever needing to raise her voice, and she made sure no one got left behind, especially the new girls.
She kept nudging Pere to give you and the rest of the promoted La Masia players minutes, so you could all adjust to the style and pace of the team. And after every match you played, she pulled you aside for a quick, one-on-one session. She’d tell you what you did well, what you still needed to work on, and really go into specifics of how she’d help you improve. Considering that she knew that you were aiming to try out a defensive midfielder position at some point, she took extra time with you, even mapping out what kind of drills and practices you could do together during the next training session.
Patri was probably the best captain you'd ever had. She did it all with such grace and effortlessness.
Which was probably why no one noticed how much pressure she was carrying.
It was the first season without Alexia. The team had just won the UWCL and basically experienced a perfect season before watching not only their captain leave but also witnessing the departure of a bunch of key players.
Now, what was left of the team was a handful of veterans and a wave of kids fresh off the academy and the B team. All of it the pressure weighed heaviest on Patri’s shoulders in her first year as first captain.
‧₊˚ ✩ ₊˚ ⊹ You could never get enough of getting praised by Patri.
You can still remember the first time you got a compliment from Patri. You were on the same team during a mock game. Ewa, who was on the other team, suddenly broke through everyone with the ball, pushing forward to score. But you slid in perfectly, tackling the ball away just in time, not letting her get past you. Patri immediately ran over, her eyes shining as she placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair.
"Good job, stargirl," she said softly, her voice warm and full of pride. "Do more of that, vale?"
After that moment, her praise fueled a hunger inside you. It started off tame. You felt a small flutter, a blush, totally normal feelings. But as time passed, that desire for validation turned into something more insatiable and unusual.
You obsessed over Patri’s compliments, shaping your actions around winning her approval. You mimicked the habits and plays your teammates used that got Patri's attention. You lingered after practice, volunteering to help clean and organize even when it wasn't your responsibility, just to earn a compliment from her. You pushed your body past its limits, chasing that rare, precious sound of her voice telling you you were doing well.
You rationalized to yourself that maybe it was because you idolized her, that you wanted to play like her and to be a better player for the team.
But that flimsy excuse stopped making sense when you sought her attention beyond the sport. The way she looked at you, the way her voice softened whenever she spoke to you, the way her strong arms wrapped around you whenever she pulled you in for a hug — it lingered in your mind long after the games or training ended. You found yourself wanting to catch her attention off the pitch too.
So, you did a lot of other things to try and get more compliments. You worked extra hard on learning Spanish and Catalan just so she could tell you that you were learning fast, complimenting you in both languages.
You also started paying attention to how you presented yourself. Whenever there'd be a team hangout or dinner, you'd carefully choose the pieces that hugged your figure right or exposed the perfect amount of skin. You made sure you chose colors that both suited you and you knew Patri liked. After noticing Patri compliment Vicky on her mascara, you started wearing a bit more makeup, hoping she'd notice and say something.
It was slowly consuming every thought that you had but it was becoming an addiction that you just couldn’t help but give into.
‧₊˚ ✩ ₊˚ ⊹ It was a team dinner when you first thought that this whole praise thing might have been getting to your head.
You dressed in a slightly revealing, body-hugging dress that complimented your body and showed off your best features. As soon as you walked in, a teammate teasingly let out a low whistle as the others paid you compliments but your attention was solely on Patri. When Patri saw you, her eyes widened and her lips curled into a smile.
"Oh guapa," she said, pressing a hand to her chest. "Almost gave me a heart attack there.
A blush crept to your cheeks, thanking her in Spanish before heading off to your table where you were to be seated with your other teammates. As soon as you sat, Sydney and Esmee looked over to you with giddy faces. "Looks like someone has a crush," Sydney teased, nudging you gently, only causing you to grow redder.
The two other international players widened their eyes and chuckled at the instant flushing of your cheeks, pulling Kika into the conversation to tease you.
Kika shook her head. "What did I tell you two?" Kika said, pointing a finger at both of them. "It's why she's always sticking behind after Spanish and Catalan class to ask for more pointers. She wants Patri to notice."
"Is that why you've been more intense during training as well?" Esmee asked you in disbelief. "I swear to God when I stopped your goal from coming in during training, it looked like you wanted to kill me for a moment."
The three laughed but you couldn't even defend yourself and deny it.
But then again, there was no way you could deny it. Your every thought was tangled up with Patri, everything you did was to live up to her standard, to get that sweet praise from her. Anyone with eyes could see how much you exerted yourself lately in training just to get noticed by your captain.
‧₊˚ ✩ ₊˚ ⊹ Eventually, all your hard work has also been noticed by Pere who felt confident enough to give you more minutes than you previously had. For the first time, you were starting a game against Atletico.
You were extremely hyped, feeling the adrenaline rush through your body. After being given this opportunity, you knew you just had to show Patri you were worthy of her attention and praise.
Unlike what everyone initially expected, the game was intense; it was fast, brutal and unrelenting as Atleti's forwards easily cut through your defense. Even if you were a bit rattled, you worked through it, silently dedicating each tackle and interception to Patri, feeling a sense of giddiness whenever you did something right, knowing that she would notice.
You pushed yourself harder. Your body screamed, lungs burning, quads already starting to ache, but you didn't stop or slow down. Every time you stopped an attack, every time you cleared the ball, you felt like you were working towards Patri's affection and respect on the pitch.
And then came the breakaway. Atlético's striker ran past you with the ball. Your breath caught as you tried to chase her down, feeling determined to win the ball back. In your haste, you lunged, moving as precisely as you could to get your foot to the ball but your timing was off and the sole of your boots caught her ankle hard. The sharp sound of impact and the sound that escaped her mouth was loud enough for the crowd to hear, followed instantly by the piercing blast of the referee's whistle.
Your stomach dropped. You stood frozen, staring at the player still on the ground as she writhed in pain, breath caught in your throat, knowing that you had majorly fucked up.
Your teammates were at your side in seconds and your heart dropped to your stomach once your eyes caught Patri, with her face a mixture of fury and fear.
She walked past you to stand behind Caro, who was now arguing with the referee, but for a moment Patri just stayed silent, jaw tight and clenched. Eventually, she joined in, arguing with the referee in rapid Spanish, voice shaking with passion. "¡No! Fue la pelota primero, por favor." She waved her hands around, gesturing desperately at the referee. "She got the ball! It was the ball. No es falta."
The referee shook her head, waving her hands to dismiss Patri and Caro as she raised the red card. Patri exhaled hard through her nose, patted Caro on the back as if to tell her to leave it be, and turned away before her expression could slip any further. Some of your teammates tried to talk to the referee while the others gathered around the injured player.
Patri's eyes snapped to you, and the look she gave you was worse than any sort of punishment. It was just pure, crushing disappointment.
"Why would you risk it like that?" she walked up to you and asked firmly, the pain and frustration in her voice completely audible. It was such a stark difference from the happy, easy-going captain you knew. She shook her head as her eyes stayed firmly planted on you. “Did you not think that through?”
You swallowed hard, cheeks burning, tears threatening to spill. "I… I just wanted to stop her. I didn't mean to…" Your voice broke, starting to feel the shame in your actions.
Patri placed a hand behind your back, supposedly to calm you but you could tell that the captain was upset with you as she walked you back to the bench. Her hand wasn't quite steady.
Patri lowered her voice so that no one nearby could hear but it remained firm. "You can't just act so… stupid on the pitch. You need to be precise. Más inteligente." She paused before looking at you, brown eyes staring serious daggers into yours.
The volume of her voice increased a bit. "And I have had enough of this show-off nonsense, okay? This is not the time and place to want the spotlight, yeah? This game, this sport isn't just about you. It’s about all of us.” Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, like she was reminding herself as much as you. “Got that?”
You gulped and bit your lip.
“I asked you if you understood,” Patri said before frustratedly pressing her lips together, lips forming a tight line.
“Yes, yes, I understood,” you said, nodding, voice meek and soft.
Patri gave you two pats on the shoulder before running back to the injured player who was being attended to now by the medics. You returned to the bench, already feeling your shoulders slump and the tears well up in your eyes, lips quivering as you held back the tears.
Pere and your teammates tried talking to you but all of it fell upon deaf ears. You couldn't focus on anything after what Patri said. You wanted to disappear, to sink into the earth and never be seen again.
‧₊˚ ✩ ₊˚ ⊹ Thankfully, despite your mistake and the initial struggle, the team still won thanks to Pina's clutch goal at the 87th minute. You couldn't celebrate at all or even fully appreciate Pina's goal when you were still completely riddled with shame and regret.
Aitana saw you staring blankly, sitting all alone on one of the benches on the more empty area of the dressing room. "Hey, chica," she said, patting you on the back. "Don't be too hard on yourself. It's okay."
You looked up to her and gave her a meek smile but even Aitana could see that the smile didn't reach your eyes.
"It's just a mistake. It happens to everyone." She comforted, nodding at you. "Okay?"
"Yeah…" you said but didn't mean it a bit. Even if all your teammates had been supportive, talking you out of your gloomy state, you still couldn't shake it off.
All you could think about was the look on Patri's face at that moment: the disappointment, the frustration, and the animosity she had for you at that moment. What hurt most was that she called you a show-off and implied that you were selfish, as if you were trying to do all of it for yourself or for attention. She didn't get that everything you were doing was for her.
‧₊˚ ✩ ₊˚ ⊹ As Patri walked into the locker room, after talking to the other team’s injured player and apologizing on your behalf, Aitana immediately approached her. "Hey, Patri." Aitana said. "You should really talk to YN."
Caro overheard as she was changing. "Yeah, I saw her when I walked in," she interjected as she slipped on a shirt. “She looked like those stray kittens abandoned in the rain.”
Kika stepped closer. "I tried talking to her but she had a distant look." She added. "She's not doing okay."
Aitana nodded. "Yeah, you should talk to her. I don’t want this incident to ruin her morale for the rest of the season.
Patri paused, trying to look at you from across the locker room, sighing as she saw you sat and bent over, head in your hands. She bit her lip, feeling even more guilty now hearing what everyone had to say and seeing you all upset.
Barely halfway through the season, Patri thought to herself. And I’m already fucking up being a captain.
She let out a sigh, shaking off her doubt. "Was what I said that bad?" She asked, rubbing the back of her neck.
Caro and Aitana looked at each other, as if waiting for one of them to say something.
“To me, it wasn’t that bad,” Aitana said with a small shrug. “I mean, from what I heard, it just sounded a bit heated.”
Caro nodded in agreement. “Yeah but honestly, I think that girl cares too much about what you think so what you said to her might sound fine to me or anyone else but to her, it was…” she trailed off, unsure how to finish it. She sighed. “It might just have been too much for her to hear from her idol.”
Patri sighed, shaking her head. "Yeah, okay, I'll talk to her.." She said before looking at the girls. "Thanks for letting me know."
They all nodded and went back to getting ready. Patri headed to her locker but as she made her way, she kept a subtle eye on you. You were just sitting there, still in your uniform, towel resting across your shoulders.
Was it really that serious for her, Patri thought to herself, before shaking her head. She had enough weighing on her already — the armband felt heavier some days than she let on, and tonight had been one of those days.
‧₊˚ ✩ ₊˚ ⊹ It took you a while to process what happened and how you felt about it and by the time that you were ready for your shower, everyone had left.
Vicky, Kika, and Esmee had asked if you wanted to check out this one café with them but you just waved them off. Irene asked if you wanted to chat but you told her that it was best you think things through alone. Even Aitana – who was usually the first person out of the locker room – stayed a bit longer and even asked you if you wanted to grab dinner with her, to cool off and indulge in food your team nutritionist wouldn't approve of, but you just didn't feel like you deserved that right now.
To you, everyone in the team could try to comfort you but only one person's validation and comfort mattered. You sighed, taking off your shirt and throwing it into the bin before heading into the showers.
The air was already foggy from everyone who showered before but you didn't mind that much. At least now, it was just you and your thoughts. You opened the shower head, letting the warm water rinse through you. You prayed that all your doubts and negative thoughts could be washed away into the drain.
You didn't expect it to happen but you suddenly felt tears sting your eyes. Perhaps, a while ago, while everyone was there, you had just been holding the tears in, not wanting to look overly dramatic. But now that you were alone, the tears just came.
You let the water run through your face, mixing into your tears as it did, hoping that you could get past this.
You wished that after the game, you had the guts to say something to Patri, to apologize and tell her that you really fucked up and that you were willing to take accountability for it, that you were still going to try and improve and put the team’s interest before yours. But when you caught sight of Patri entering the locker room, you just had to keep your head low and stop yourself from completely breaking down.
You wiped the water and tears off of your eyes, sighing and deciding that you were going to quit moping about it and start working on how you could gain Patri’s trust back.
‧₊˚ ✩ ₊˚ ⊹ Patri massaged her temples as she walked back into the locker room.
Before she could even change out of her uniform, Pere called her over to talk through what had happened and how they'd handle it. By the time the conversation wound down, everyone else was gone, and all she wanted was a shower and to get back to her place to sleep the stress off..
She took off her clothes, tossed it in the bin, and slung her towel over her shoulder. Pulling her hair out of its ponytail, she ran her fingers through it as she walked toward the shower room. The closer she headed towards it, the more she heard the sound of someone talking. At first, she thought that maybe some of the girls stayed longer and were having a conversation in the shower area, which was not an uncommon occurrence, but then she realized there was only one voice that she could hear.
She slowed, stepping quietly into the shower room and her thoughts were confirmed as she saw that only one shower was running.
"Patri, I'm really sorry that…" The voice continued rambling in a soft tone. Patri blinked, surprised. It was you, rehearsing what you were going to say to her.
Patri huffed out a quiet laugh, a small smile tugging at her mouth as her brows knit together. Fuck, she really isn’t taking this well, she thought to herself as she moved towards your shower.
It didn’t take you too long to feel her presence behind you. You stopped talking and turned around quickly and instinctively covering yourself with your hands, nearly slipping on the now soapy floor as you did. Patri held her arms out too, also out of reflex, just in case you slipped.
“Patri!” You exclaimed and felt your cheeks flush as you realized you practically shouted her name, your voice echoing slightly. “Sorry, I – uh…”
Your eyes couldn’t help but make a quick glance at her, growing hyperaware of the fact that you two were completely naked.
You’d seen practically everyone in the team topless before, most even completely nude, but when it came to Patri, you were always too flustered to even look at her direction whenever she was changing or heading to the showers.
So, to see her now, completely bare in front of you, you didn't know where to look or how to feel.
You fumbled, mumbling apologies that didn't quite form into full sentences, your hands still wrapped around yourself just to hide your nakedness "I'm really sorry, I was thinking about what to say to you and uh — I guess I'm sorry for earlier, and now this is just — it's awkward now, but never mind that, I should be apologizing for what I actually did, not…" You couldn't stop rambling even as you heard yourself sounding like a complete idiot, heat rushing to your face.
Patri had stopped listening somewhere in the middle of that. Her eyes had drifted, taking you in without quite meaning to, brows lifting slightly at the sight of you. She'd seen you in towels and sports bras and everything but never quite like this. She caught herself staring and looked away almost too fast, clearing her throat.
"It’s okay," Her voice came out steadier than she felt, the captain in her stepping forward to cover her lapse of judgement just then. "It's fine, YN. Forget it. I shouldn't have said all that out there in front of everyone.”
She nodded. “I got caught up in the moment and it was wrong for me to reprimand you that way,” she said. “You're still a good player. You made a mistake and it was a bad one but I can see that you internalized that already. So… just learn from this; I don’t want this to get to your head and affect your performance for the rest of the season.”
You nodded your head before she even finished. "No, I get it. I deserved to be reprimanded. I made a mistake and I really am so sorry.” You hesitated to say what you’ve been thinking about while you were formulating your apology a while ago. "But I have to say that you did get one thing wrong.”
Patri didn’t look offended. She just tilted her head and looked at you curiously.
You bit your lip before you continued. “I wasn't doing what I did to get attention or to prove anything to the fans, or Pere, or anyone else out there,” you said, tone softer. “I was just trying my best because I didn't want to let you down. You were the one who fought to get me minutes and to get me my start today. I wanted to be good enough for that… for you."
Neither of you said anything for a moment, just standing there, holding eye contact a little too deliberately, like looking away first would mean admitting where your eyes actually wanted to go. You blinked and used it as an excuse to glance down.
"I think I've just been too fixated on wanting to impress you," you admitted, eyes returning to her eyes.
Patri’s expression shifted. It wasn’t just her face that changed. It was as if her muscles unclenched, as if taken aback but also a bit relieved. She exhaled a heavy breath before nodding and running a hand through her hair. She released a chuckle.
“That,” Patri responded, “means a lot to me. Seriously.”
You nodded. Again, silence fell upon the two of you. All you could hear was the sound of the shower and your own heartbeat.
Patri’s expression turned more playful as she looked up to your face again. "Is it weird if I say I'm impressed by what I'm seeing right now?" The words came out light and joking but something about it made your stomach flip.
Your face went warm again. You bit down on your lip, unsure if you were supposed to laugh at the comment or say something back. Suddenly, feeling a bit more self-conscious once more.
Patri seemed to catch herself a beat too late. She let out a short laugh and shook her head, like she wanted to undo it. "Sorry, that's… that was a fucked-up thing for me to say." She dragged a hand through her hair. "I'm your captain, I shouldn't be saying stuff like that to you. I think the stress is just getting to me. I'm losing my mind and composure a little."
She laughed once more but straightened her face again before meeting your eyes. "Yeah, no. I shouldn’t be making excuses. I just shouldn't have said it."
You bit your lip and nodded. It felt like Patri trying to take the comment back only made things worse; it made it impossible to pretend you hadn't understood exactly what she meant by it.
"It's okay," you said quietly. Your eyes hadn't left hers. Your hands started to loosen around you, not covering yourself up so much.
"I told you," you said, voice lower than you meant it to come out, "I always want to impress you."
Patri didn't move, but something in her went very still. She could feel the tension and energy in the room shift. Suddenly, she was aware of your warmth, the feeling of the fog that swirled in the bathroom, the breath she had been holding.
She smiled and looked like she was about to say something to lighten the mood but her mind failed her. She cleared her throat and she looked away, hand adjusting the towel on her shoulder.
You bit your lip. This was your chance, and it might be the only chance you’d ever get. "Maybe," you said, taking a step as you dropped your hand to your sides now. "I can impress you a little more."
Patri met your eyes again. You hesitated for a moment but ultimately thought fuck it. You moved closer to her, wet hands cupping her face as you gathered up all your confidence as you closed the distance.
You placed your lips onto Patri’s gently, as if testing the waters. You closed your eyes, feeling the softness of her lips against yours, the warmth of it emanating to you as you did. When you pulled away, you realized that Patri’s eyes were still open, pupils blown wide and expression surprised.
Your heart started beating faster, feeling a sudden rush of regret pass through you, but before you could even fully process it, Patri was stepping towards you.
It happened so quickly. Her towel dropped from her shoulder to the floor as she closed the distance between you, hands on your body, lips on yours. The floor was slippery but you didn’t worry too much because her hands were gripping you firmly as she pressed you against the shower wall.
Your hands wrapped around Patri as you did, feeling the water from the shower trickle on her back now as she pressed you against the wall. She kissed with an almost desperate intensity, as if she was letting out all her frustrations on you.
A moan escaped your lips as you felt her tongue enter your mouth, effortlessly moving with yours. Her hands gripped tighter as she felt your moan vibrate against her lips.
Patri moved from your lips to your jaw, tongue licking along the shape of it before wrapping her mouth around the space between it and your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You moaned, holding her closer to you.
As she kissed your neck, her hands began to wander from your waist to your hips and to your ass, moving fluidly through your skin. You inhaled sharply as you felt one of her hands in between your thighs, parting your legs, adjusting your stance so she could slot herself in between you.
You pushed her lightly.
Patri looked at you with eyebrows raised, unsure why you were stopping her. You bit your lip. “I…” You cleared your throat, urging yourself to speak louder. “I want to be the one to please you.”
Patri’s brows furrowed but she released a small laugh. “C’mon, chica, just let me—”
You shook your head. “Please,” you said in a soft pleading voice. “I really want to show you what I can do for you. Please.”
Patri’s lips curled into that smirk you knew all too well, the same smirk that always made you feel a little warmer inside. She straightened up, hands detaching itself from you, running one of them through her now-damp hair.
She paused before reaching for your face, thumb brushing your cheek as she looked into your eyes. “You really want to?”
You nodded eagerly, eyes wide as if pleading to her.
The older girl smirked. “How could I say no to that face?” She said softly, thumb now brushing your bottom lip, feeling your plush lips against her thumb. “Okay, star girl. Impress your captain.”
You didn’t hesitate. You moved towards her, hand on the back of her neck, pulling her closer to you as you captured her lips once more. You both shifted so that it was Patri who was closer to the wall, lips never leaving each other as you did.
You moved your lips to her jaw then to her neck, planting kisses all over her as you slowly descended in front of her, feeling the shower once more against your head and back.
Then, you were on your knees, feeling the cold tiles press beneath you as you lowered to the level of Patri’s core. She cursed under her breath, feeling herself get wetter at the sight of you, naked and all-too-eager on your knees for her.
You kept eye contact with the Barcelona captain as you moved closer. Patri cupped your face once more, smiling before moving her hand from your face to her core, using her fingers to delicately spread herself apart before you.
You nearly moaned as you saw her open herself before you, feeling your own core warm up as you caught a whiff of Patri’s faint musk. You gulped, shifting a bit as you moved your head closer towards her.
You opened your mouth, tongue slightly out, capturing Patri’s clit with your it, wrapping your lips around the throbbing bud. Patri groaned as she felt it, closing her eyes and tilting her head back, hand holding the back of your head.
You took that as a sign to proceed, rounding your mouth around her before doing consistent pulses of suction. The older girl moaned, her other hand finding the back of your head, pushing you closer into her.
You moaned, sending a vibration across Patri’s body. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment and to not overthink your actions. This was all you’ve wanted since you realized that you had a crush on Patri. You fantasized endlessly about pleasuring her, doing everything to get her praise.
And now this was your chance to do it.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Patri moaned, voice a bit tight. “Keep eating me out.”
You could feel your own wetness pool around your core as you heard Patri’s praise, urging you to do even better. You pressed your tongue around your captain’s clit, moving your head to guide your tongue, drawing circles into her. You kept your hands firm against her legs, holding yourself steady as you moved your face further into her core, really burying yourself into her.
You kept your eyes closed and focused on Patri – the feeling of her warmth and her sweet nectar coating your mouth and chin as you continued to lick and suck on her folds, the firmness of her hands on the back of your head as she guided you closer to her, the sound of her low moans and grunts as you picked up the pace, really wanting to hear more of her.
“Yeah, keep doing that,” Patri moaned. “You’re doing really well.”
You practically moaned against her clit as she said it, holding your head firm against her. You focused on licking her, moving in vertical stripes, starting from just below her clit upwards, tongue grazing the sensitive part of her clit every time you did. The older girl grinded her lips towards your face, both hands on the back of your head and her back pressed against the wall to support her weight.
Then, you pointed your tongue, using the tip of it to draw smaller circles around a specific part of her clit, moving around it until you grazed the spot that garnered the loudest moan and the biggest reaction from her. You focused on it, pressing the tip of your tongue against it, alternating between flicking and drawing circles.
Soon, you could feel Patri’s strong thighs tense and clench under your hands and the feeling of her grip on your head tightened, pulling you impossibly close. You took your tongue off her and parted your lips, now capturing her clit in your mouth, alternating between sucking and licking her.
Patri’s moan came out a bit strained, using her other hand to hold onto the shower faucet for some semblance of balance as she neared her climax. Her other hand stayed behind your head, pressing you firmly against her.
Her muscles clenched even more, thighs firmer against your hands, until she moaned out loud and her muscles relaxed. Patri twitched a bit under you as she rode out her orgasm, gyrating herself slowly against your face for a bit more before guiding your head away from her core, a string of wetness forming between you and her before breaking as you moved farther.
Patri glanced down at you, eyes dark and heavy. She bit her lip and smirked. “Good job, stargirl.”
She held your hand, pulling slightly as if to direct you to stand up. Carefully, you stood and used Patri’s hand as a way to balance yourself. As soon as you stood up, Patri was wrapping her arms around you, guiding your body to turn your back against her.
Now, you were facing the wall with Patri’s hand on your breast and her lips on your neck, kissing you from behind. “Since you did so well,” Patri whispered in your ear before taking your lobe in between her lips, nipping at it slightly. “I think it’s just fair that I reward you.”
You moaned as you felt Patri’s lips against you, more aggressively this time, nipping and biting your neck as her hand continued to fondle your chest. Her other hand slowly made its way from your waist to your core, slotting it in between your legs, pushing them apart to expose yourself to her touch.
You bent over slightly, gripping the walls with your hands to keep yourself stable as Patri adjusted your position to be slightly bent over.
You moaned as soon as her fingers found your core, using two fingers to press against your throbbing clit. She began to rub wide and firm circles, mouth still attached to your neck, biting against your soft flesh.
You arched your back closer to her, bending forward as she continued to rub faster against you. Her other hand went from massaging your breast to now pinching your nipple, rolling it in between her fingers.
“Patri,” You moaned out as she switched to flicking her fingers against your clit, hitting the most sensitive part of it as she did. “Fuck.”
Her mouth was warm against your ear. “Quiet down, chica. Wouldn’t want anyone to find us,” she whispered into it.
You bit your lip, trying to hold down your moans. Patri’s hand left your clit, moving swiftly behind you now. She used her other hand to support your weight as she angled you in such a way that would allow easy entry for her.
You gasped loudly as you felt her fingers tease your entrance from behind, nudging slightly and letting your wetness coat the tips of it before fully entering. Her other hand clutched you, keeping you steady and close to her as she started to thrust into you. First, moving with a slow and steady pace as if to test out your reaction before increasing her speed and intensity, pumping in and out of you.
As Patri pushed forward, hitting the most sensitive spot inside you, you could not help out but moan so loud that your voice practically echoed. Patri tutted her tongue before moving her hand from around your waist to cupping against your mouth, holding it firmly so that no noise would escape.
“Now you can moan as much as you want,” she said as she continued to pound her fingers against you.
You moaned into her hand as you felt Patri finger you, curling each time she thrusted in, pressing firmly each time against your sensitive spot. Your fingers desperately clung onto the shower walls as you felt yourself grow weaker, knees shaking with pleasure.
Soon, Patri could feel your loud moans vibrate into her hand. Your walls clenched around her fingers. She smiled at the tight sensation, thrusting into you even faster and harder. You were glad that Patri’s hand was on your mouth or else the staff would have definitely heard the obscene and almost pornographic sounds escaping your mouth now.
“Come on, star girl,” Patri ordered into your ear. “Cum for me.”
You nodded. You almost buckled over as Patri practically slammed her fingers into you, eager to get you to that climax. Soon, you could feel your knees shake even more and your muscles clench as you inched closer and closer to your orgasm.
Then finally, the waves of pleasure came, all your muscles unclenching. Patri’s hand moved from your mouth back to your waist, making sure you wouldn’t lose balance. After a couple more thrust to help you ride out your orgasm, she pulled out her fingers.
She moved them to your face, presenting them to your lips, urging you to suck on them. You wrapped your mouth around her fingers, closing around them, letting the older girl push it further into your mouth. She thrusted them a bit into you, enjoying the feeling of your warm mouth around her. As she pulled them out, you heard her chuckle a little. “You’re such a good girl.”
You straightened up and breathed deeply, trying to catch your breath. Your captain kept an arm around your waist, just to help you steady yourself. Once your brain was less scrambled from what just happened, you looked at Patri who was giving you a smirk.
“Consider that red card forgiven,” she said with a teasing tone. “But I don’t want you getting more red cards in the future just to get my attention.”
You nodded. “Of course not,” you reassured her immediately. “I wouldn’t do anything to upset you again.
Patri looked pleased with your response, eyes scanning your face. She smiled as she cupped your face before pulling you towards her for another kiss, pulling you in for another kiss.
“That’s my stargirl.”
a/n: anyway, just thought i'd post something while everyone is waiting for the Only We Know, Princesa, and With Love Alexia updates ack i promise i'll find time to work on those
anyway, lmk if u liked it! reblog and leave comments. kinda wanna write more patri fics too so lmk if u'd like more patri fics!
taglist: @putellas-archives @bonmatellas @ppppolarrrr @merlinsthebest @krazyyoung @aleszias @taysappho @alannakennedyswifey @actua11yromantic @em--11 @aledream
completely thoroughly baffled by how this has happened.
like i get it, she’s had a hard time with injuries and people having an unfair lack of faith and patience with her, but it’s just so disappointing. on all sides.
I know the odds are like next to nothing but omfg if Alexia came to Gotham i would freak out. Like I cannot imagine living in the same city as ALEXIA PUTELLAS
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Beyond the Badge | Alexia Putellas x reader - Part 6
Part 6
Summary : You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Real Madrid! Reader
Word count : 10.0k
A/n : Posted later than usual because my computer keeps restarting every 10–15 minutes for unknown reasons, and because it took me a long time to be satisfied with this chapter.
Warnings : 18+
Masterlist
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It’s only a fifteen-minute walk to the agency, but the early Sunday afternoon heat is already baking the pavement. Still, as you pass the Puerta de Alcalá, the sun doesn't seem to slow anyone down, the plaza is a buzzing blur of tourists and locals. You see the massive stone arches almost every day, in every season, and it's always the first thing you picture when you think of Madrid. Looking up at it now brings a familiar, humbling thought : a reminder that this city was born centuries before you, and it will still be standing long after you're gone.
Calle de Serrano doesn't change. It’s a predictable mix of beautiful architecture, lush trees, and the perpetual construction work that plagues Madrid year-round. When you pass the archaeology museum, you can't help but remember Elena.
Your ex had been absolutely affronted to learn you’d never been inside in all your twenty-three years of existence, practically dragging you through the doors, not that you complained much at the time. You catch yourself wondering, for a fleeting moment, what Elena would say about the contract.
The Plaza de Colón comes into view, as brutally ugly as you’ve always found it. You look up at the huge Spanish flag that stands proudly in the middle of it, and you feel a flash of stupid nationalism making your heart swell. You blame it on being emotional today.
Two blocks later, you’re standing in front of the office building. The plate you’re used to, with Wasserman written on it, has been freshly replaced. You press the intercom button, getting buzzed through the heavy doors without delay. After a brief exchange at the front desk where the receptionist points you in the right direction, you set off through the corridors.
You haven’t been here much, it opened less than a year ago and your agent isn’t even based here. He complained about you making him travel to Madrid on such short notice this morning. The design of the offices is modern, references to some of their most famous clients on the walls.
Your agent is waiting for you in one of the meeting rooms, typing on his computer. He immediately gets up when he sees you. “I genuinely thought I would have to stalk you at training to have this chat.”
You roll your eyes, shaking his hand anyway. “Nice to see you too.”
He pulls the chair, gesturing for you to sit as he goes back to his own chair. You wait for him to talk first as he seemingly is opening the documents he wants on his laptop. “So we’re the 18th,” he starts calmly. He always likes to do that, state the facts as if checking you’re on the same wavelength. “You have until the 23rd to take our decision, where are you right now.”
He doesn’t seem to be expecting much. “I’ve taken my decision.” You state.
That does get a reaction out of him, his eyebrows raised and an amused smile. “You got a revelation during camp ?”
You throw him an unimpressed look. “You’re awfully unprofessional today.”
“So, what about that decision ?” He didn’t rise to your bait.
You fidget in your seat. Making a choice doesn’t mean you’re entirely sure it’s the right one. He’s waiting patiently, not rushing you. You look around, there’s a sticker with the quote You Miss 100% of the Shots You Don't Take on the wall. Maybe life is mocking you.
You take a last deep breath. “I’m not exercising the termination option, I keep the last year on my contract.” You meet his gaze, he’s studying you, as if trying to figure out by himself what made you decide that. You don’t want him to question your decision too much. You can’t have him do so, because it required so much from you to take it, but you still feel like you're standing on a knife's edge.
“Loyalty ?” Apparently, he hasn’t figured it out by himself.
“Madrid is my home,” you state. “It’s where my whole support system is, it’s where it feels right. Real has its frustrating moments, more than I would like, but we’re still one of the top clubs, we go to the quarter-finals often. I’m sure we will be able to reach the semis if we get a good draw.”
“That’s the media answer, we both know Real isn’t heading in the right direction.” He’s displeased, that much is obvious. “You could play for any club, you know. Everyone is willing to sign you, especially if you’re on a free transfer.”
“I feel like exercising this option is burning bridges with Real. What if I hate it abroad, like I did in the past ? I can’t really come back when I used a loss in the Champions League to leave.”
“You put too much weight on your Munich experience.” He doesn’t know what he’s asking you to relive. How alone you felt even surrounded by your teammates. The cold piercing through all your clothes during winter. Counting the days until you could come back home, to Madrid.
You swallow hard, “I know. But I don’t feel like potential trophies at the end of the season can make up for a whole year somewhere else.”
“You're choosing familiarity over ambition,” he retorts easily.
Your jaw sets. It’s something you’ve heard all the time. Ambition above everything else is expected from a footballer, people don’t believe you can get as high as you are without an unhealthy obsession for being on top. “I’m choosing what’s the most likely to make me happy.”
He eyes you critically. “You’re staying because you’re scared, not because you believe in the project.”
You push your left thumb into the palm of your other hand to stop yourself from trembling, the chair is rigid against your back. “You asked for my decision, you got it. Case closed.” You bite the inside of your cheek to stop the tears that are close to coming.
He sighs, deflated. “You’re the boss.” He lets the silence linger, as if hoping you will say more, you don’t, you stare at the sticker on the wall instead, thinking a good player also knows that sometimes it’s better to not shoot. “Renewals talks are gonna start soon, should we go into them with the intent to continue here ?”
You look at the window, the stones of Madrid staring back at you. “I want to wait to see what they’re doing during the transfer window for that. If an offer somewhere else feels right, I might even consider it. Like I might when my contract is up next season. I just don’t want to leave like that.”
He nods, acknowledging your answer. You talk more about numbers and logistics after that. Sponsorship deals that mean less free time but a bigger bank account. The world cup next summer, that you fully intend to be the biggest moment of your career.
Madrid’s heat weighs down on you as you exit the building, but you almost enjoy it. You treat yourself to ice cream in one of those too expensive parlors that justify their price by their location. You take a walk through the Retiro, unrecognized by most. You can feel one or two double-takes, maybe Wait isn’t she in all these Real Madrid posters, but everyone leaves you alone.
You go sit on the stairs of the monument to Alfonso XII, looking at the body of water in front of you, at the tourists rowing while taking pictures. You feel it, the itch to tell a certain someone about the meeting you just had.
Maybe she doesn’t care, maybe she was just being nice during camp because she thought it was her duty as a captain. You let your desire overcome your hesitation, and get your phone out. It’s just a quick text on WhatsApp, nothing fancy.
The last text is you asking her if you can come to her room during the freak out after the call with your agent. For a brief moment you ask yourself why you’re even texting her. She was great to have close when you were stressed with the contract. What purpose does she serve now ? You still feel like you owe her your decision, considering the help offered.
You : Guess who you’re gonna play lot of times again next season because she’s staying in Spain
Alexia doesn’t answer immediately. Your gaze stays on the horizon, checking your phone sporadically until you see the notification you want.
Alexia : That’s great news. Glad you figured it out 👍
Alexia : Madrid is lucky to keep you
You furrow your eyebrows, it’s almost… cold ? You don’t answer her, not even an emoji because you wouldn’t know what to put. You want to rationalize, she might be busy but wanted to answer quickly so she didn’t think too much about it.
You turn off the screen and look at the reflection of light on the water, trying to let the sun burn away your worries, clinging to her don’t ghost me to not spiral. Her answer shouldn’t even matter, she’s a crush, a small ridiculous crush you shouldn’t have, nothing else. If she doesn’t want to talk to you, it makes it all easier.
It’s way later, when you’re eating dinner on your couch, watching tape sent by the staff, that you get another message from Alexia. It’s a video of the Rosalia concert she was at the previous day. No message attached, just Rosalia singing a song you don’t even recognize.
You : Wrong recipient ?
Alexia : No, why ?
Alexia : She’s great, right ?
Alexia : Sorry the video quality is terrible
You stare at your phone blankly. Is that Alexia’s idea of keeping in touch ? Because it might be a bit of a turn off. You don’t have it in you to tell her that you don’t care much about the artist.
You : How was the concert ? You had fun with the team ?
Alexia : Great
Alexia : We danced a lot
Then she sends you the stupid GIF of a penguin dancing. You would only accept it from your 50-year-old aunt. You don’t know how to save this pitiful chat. You try your last resort, a voice note asking her to talk about the concert more.
It’s what saves it, Alexia answers with a voice note, where she sounds like the usual Alexia and not someone who just got their first smartphone. The Catalan accent, the light chuckle as she tells you a moment Clara embarrassed herself by singing the wrong lyrics, the little pauses as you can imagine her smile. It’s stupid, the relief you feel when you realize she wasn’t giving you the cold shoulder.
The conversation lasts, you joke that you think she might have a crush on the singer. It drifts a bit toward your contract at the end, where you explain your reasoning to her more, before the conversation dies naturally.
To your surprise, you actually continue to talk during the next few days. It starts with you sending her a voice note recounting the story that Maëlle told you at French camp that involved breaking a bed while trying to set a prank that earns you a voice note about how Alexia could see some players on your own national team do that.
Later, you receive a video of Vicky trying, and failing utterly, a cartwheel after training that makes you have a laughing fit while you’re on your couch.
There’s always one of you who sends tidbits of her day, the other one answers with a GIF or a voice note, sometimes a text if you don’t have a choice.
It’s rarely anything big. It’s mostly jokes and stupid things.
Chats just keep coming. You both complain about sponsor events, Alexia tells you how her sister couldn’t stop teasing her for no reason at family dinner, you tell her about the latest light drama in your friends’ life like your friend Cesar going on a date with a girl who turned out to be a Mormon.
Neither of you avoids football altogether, because it’s too present in your lives. She talks to you about the stress regarding the upcoming semis against Bayern, and you joke about being surprised she feels that emotion. When she has her game against Espanyol, you live text it and she takes the time to quote and answer most of your messages after she has come home. Thankfully she’s way less awkward when texting about football.
You talk about training, about the weirdness of having a month and a half of competition left that barely means anything. She tells you to enjoy your free time while you can.
You never really overthink it, it’s so easy you don’t have to. Until people start to pick up. In the same day, Misa and Linda try to get out of you who you’ve been talking to for the past week, and Aitana texts you Are you the reason Alexia can’t look away from her phone in the locker room ? Kika and Vicky are teasing her non-stop about it.
It sends you into a spiral for the rest of the evening. At first, you think We haven’t been talking that much. And then you start to scroll through the chat and realize you have actually been talking that much. It’s not your fault Alexia is sending so many messages. And it's not your fault you reply. That's just politeness. You scroll through the chat again. Okay, maybe also liking talking to her.
You consider briefly texting Alexia about it, but it seems like opening Pandora’s box and acknowledging with her what’s happening. You don’t want that.
You think of pulling back a bit to sort out your thoughts, but then Alexia uses you to pass the time on her plane to Munich, and the game is so important to her you can’t really not answer. She sends you videos of the kids being overexcited, and the faces of Irene and Caro that are clearly asking themselves how and why they got on this team. Then she sends you a text that makes you worried about how excited you are about it.
Alexia : On Wednesday I have an event with Nike. It’s in the afternoon, it should end around 6PM. I didn’t tell you before because I wanted to make sure it was possible, but if you want, I can stay the night ? Don’t feel pressure, it’s totally okay if you don’t want to. There’s a plane early in the morning that allows me to be back in Barcelona in time for training. I asked the physios and even if it’s not the best for my body, they told me I could if I want.
You’re surprised at first to receive a huge wall of text from Alexia, even if you’re not too surprised that it’s so formal. You know she spent some time writing and rewriting it.
You take a few moments to think, because it’s big, because it’s admitting it goes outside of camp in a way bigger way than a phone screen does. It goes against every one of your instincts of keeping things uncomplicated in your love life. It’s having Alexia in your own space. You think back to your agent reproaching you for always taking the safe choice. You want to prove him wrong, even if it’s in a way he doesn’t care about.
You : Of course you can, I will love it if you do. You can totally stay at mine, I will make you dinner.
You : Btw 1 week without seeing me and you’re already planning to change your sleep schedule ? I’m honored Putellas.
She sends you an eye roll emoji, and tells you you’ll figure out the logistics together later. Later turns out to be that night, when she FaceTimes you while you’re brushing your teeth, you nearly swallow the toothpaste. You grab a hoodie that you pull over your head, and get on your couch to fake normalcy.
Her face appears on your screen, and your heart is suddenly beating faster. You do talk about logistics, but you also quickly realize that Alexia really wanted to talk to you because the Bayern game is stressing her out.
Alexia was right to be stressed, because Barça loses the first leg in Munich 1-0. She answers your live text while she’s rewatching the game in her hotel room. She’s frustrated for good reasons, and a little mad, so you two talk about the game until she really needs to sleep for her recovery.
You’ve never been a huge fan of talking about your own losses right after they happen, preferring a telenovela you wouldn’t watch in any other context or a quiet evening with friends if the game was early. Alexia is clearly not the same, and if she needs to talk about it you’ll be here to hear about it.
You check the apartment for approximately the hundredth time, making sure everything is spotless and at least reasonably tidy. Alexia texted half an hour ago saying her Uber was thirty minutes out, meaning she should be standing on the threshold any second now. You’ve been pacing the floor for the last fifteen minutes, entirely stuck on how you’re supposed to greet her. The buzz of your intercom abruptly interrupts your thoughts.
A few moments later there’s a knock on the door. You open it and here she is, leaning against the door frame in a Nike tracksuit, her hair untied and falling over her shoulders, she has a bag around her shoulders. The “Hey” you wanted to say dies on your lips when she kisses you.
It’s soft, her hands on your jaw, you take a few steps back in surprise and she kicks the door shut with her foot while her bag drops to the ground with a thud. You grab the fabric of her jacket at hip level as a reflex to steady yourself.
After you break the kiss, she kisses your cheek and then brings her mouth close to your ear. She whispers, “missed you” and you might die here and there. She looks up and down at you. “It’s not fair, I’m dressed in sporty clothes because of the event, and you’re dressed up like this,” she complains, gesturing at your clothes.
You smile and put your hand behind her neck to kiss her again, this one is deeper than the previous one. Her hand moves to your back, bringing you closer to her. Your smile breaks the kiss. “Chill Romeo, you’ve just arrived, let’s breathe.” She laughs softly, more from giddiness than anything else. “You haven’t even seen the apartment.”
She plants a quick kiss on your lips. “Then do the tour.”
You got lucky with the apartment. You negotiated for it when you signed for the club, and you've never considered leaving it since then. You lead her through the living room and slide open the balcony door. The view of the Retiro is your favorite part. Alexia lets out a low whistle, and you feel a small, stupid flash of pride.
She steps up to the railing, runs a hand along it. The building is modern, none of the old Madrid facades you grew up around, but the trade-off is a balcony big enough for a table, two chairs, and a ridiculous amount of your life spent right here when the heat relents.
The kitchen merges into the living room, open plan, not huge, but you've never cared much. Most of your meals come from the catering service the club provides. You’ve made an exception tonight and actually bought some food to cook.
You make her visit the two bedrooms and the bathroom, her hand is on your hip the whole time, her body close to yours. “You don’t have many football things,” she notices. The jersey from the World Cup final framed in your living room is the only thing that will tell anyone visiting most of your apartment you’re a professional football player.
You shrug. “I don’t like to be reminded of my job every second of my life. Everything is in my office anyway.” You lead her to said room. It’s where the medals are proudly displayed, the player of the match trophies are messily put on shelves, these take way too much room for their significance. The one for the game against England is your newest addition.
“Aitana is the only jersey that isn’t yours.” You look around the room at the framed jerseys, some of the significant moments with Spain and Real Madrid, none of Bayern, your parents have one in their own house, but you didn’t want one here. Aitana’s Spanish jersey from ages ago is indeed the only one that doesn’t belong to you.
“Out of all the football players I’m friends with, Aitana is the only one I feel like I would still be close to if football doesn’t exist.” You two don’t talk about football much, actually. It’s a silent rule between you, mostly enacted by you.
“Not even me ?” Alexia pouts.
You laugh and roll your eyes. “We’ve been hanging out together for 2 weeks Ale, don’t start to get needy. I don’t even know you enough to answer that question.”
She still doesn’t seem to enjoy your answer, but she points at Aitana’s jersey again. “Where is it from ? It looks like it’s an old kit.”
“2014 U17 World Cup,” you answer easily. It’s the competition that made you want to become a professional player. “It was the first time Aitana and I roomed together, it was an instant click. Even if she was too proud to be Catalan and me too proud to be a Madridista.”
You smile fondly at the memory of your younger selves. “We lost in the final but we exchanged shirts with each other as a memory. I had it framed as soon as I came home. It’s a constant reminder of the good that comes with football, you know. When I was still in Munich it was in my living room, my teammates were so sure I had a crush on Aitana.”
Alexia laughs at that. “Do I have to worry about Aitana ?”
“She would beat you. I mean she’s the one that won the last three Ballon d’Or.” You know you’ve fucked up by the way Alexia’s smile drops instantly. You immediately turn and put your arms around her shoulders, making her look at you. “Sorry I didn’t know it would be a sore spot. It was a stupid joke.”
“It’s nothing,” she mumbles, looking away from you.
“Hey no.” You kiss her jaw and feel the tenseness there. “You’re winning your third Ballon d’Or this season anyway, everyone knows it.”
“Not if we don’t beat Bayern.” You play with the zipper of her jacket, trying to bring her attention back to you.
“You will beat Bayern,” you say with assurance you don’t necessarily feel, she doesn’t need to know that.
Her eyes come back to yours. “Since when are you a Barça supporter ?”
Your thumb traces the line of her jaw. “Trust me I will never support Barça, I just want the people I care about to win. And I’m not only talking about Aitana here.”
She nods, you know she’s still a bit hurt, the tenseness in her jaw still there, but you don’t know how to solve it, so you lead both of you back to the kitchen.
You’re surprised to learn that Alexia likes cooking. Despite being in your apartment, she's the one who takes charge of the meal, while you stick to chopping vegetables. You can see her softening as the recipe progresses. You relax, happy not to have messed up the whole evening with your joke.
You sit together on the balcony when it’s ready. You’re high enough that nobody in the streets can see you two as you chat. The sun is hitting Alexia's face just right, bringing out the green in her eyes, you complain when she puts on her sunglasses.
The street below is loud, but it doesn’t bother either of you. The food tastes great, you’re quite sure it wouldn’t have been as good if you were the one who cooked it. Alexia tells you about the event, and the subject switches to Bayern. It’s pretty obvious it’s bothering her, so you let her rant. You’re not the biggest fan of talking about football outside of the professional setting, but you let it slide.
There’s a bit of a weird feeling about having Alexia here in your space, made even weirder by how easy it is to hang out with her. The Spanish camp felt removed from your life, but your apartment is your own space away from football. She’s there in her Nike issued clothes, her arm settled on the railing of your balcony, making her shirt sleeve ride up, highlighting her bicep and the jaguar tattooed on it.
She’s everything you wanted to avoid. High profile footballer, a mix of attractive and sweet you can’t really resist. Too obsessed with football, it’s inevitable, and she’s bringing it to your sanctuary. You should be more annoyed, but you can’t really when your heart beats faster every time you look at her.
You stay outside for a while even after having finished eating. You head back inside when the sky is darkening. Alexia helps you clean up the table to put everything in the dishwasher. As everything is now done, there’s an awkward silence as you two look at each other in the kitchen.
You think about offering to put on a movie, but the subtext would be utterly pathetic. You hesitate for a beat, forcing yourself to remember how entirely unsubtle Alexia has been about her interest this whole time to gather courage. Your fingers grip the edge of the kitchen counter to steady yourself as you swallow hard.
You look at her lips, then back up to her eyes, catching a mirror of your own sudden nerves staring back at you. It’s what makes you act as you grab the hem of her shirt to bring her to you. The startled sound she makes dies instantly the moment your mouth hits hers. You feel the faint, cocky curve of her smile against your lips before she loses herself completely in the kiss.
Alexia’s hands rest on the small of your back for only a second before sliding lower, hooking firmly under your thighs to lift you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter. “Did you just want to show your strength ?” you tease against her ear as you both break away to catch your breath. You nip and suck at her earlobe, rewarded by the low, shaky moan that slips from her throat.
“I mean I’m quite muscular, ain’t I ?” She says cockily. You stop, momentarily stunned by the sheer confidence of it, before you start to laugh. It’s so unlike the serious, guarded version of her you see at camp, and you realize you're entirely hooked on this private, playful version of Alexia Putellas.
Your palms slip beneath her shirt, mapping the rigid lines of her stomach. They flex and release in time with her heavy breathing. “Yeah your muscles aren’t too bad,” you murmur, your breath brushing her lips as you close the tiny distance between you.
Watching the curve of her lips, it becomes obvious that Alexia is a sucker for praise, even if you're certain she’d rather die than admit it out loud. You abandon her lips to trail a path of slow kisses down her neck, pressing your mouth to the warm skin of her throat. “Bedroom ?” she asks, her voice dropping an octave lower than usual.
“Yeah,” you answer instantly. Your arms loop tightly around her shoulders as she slides her hands back under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as she carries you down the short hallway. She drops you gently onto the mattress, but the second her weight settles over yours, you use her momentum to roll, effortlessly switching your positions until you’re the one pinning her down.
You remove her shirt and throw it somewhere in your room. You start to kiss down her body, biting at the skin on her stomach. “Wait”, she says. You tense immediately, stopping what you’re doing to look up to see if everything is okay. “I haven’t been in a shower since this morning, and I’ve taken a plane and done a whole event since then. I’m not exactly fresh.”
You look at her incredulously, as if you care about that. You lick her abs, making a show of it while holding her gaze. “Ale, you literally just said you showered this morning. I promise you don’t need another one right now.” You drop down to press a firm kiss to the spot just above her hipbone. “We have much more pressing matters to attend to.”
“I promise I won’t take long,” she offers softly. She breaks eye contact, and you catch the sudden, dark blush spreading across her upper chest. You roll your eyes in mock defeat, but you shift your weight and slide off her, giving her the space to stand up.
You track her movements as she gets up from the mattress, still shirtless. You salivate when you see the tattoos on her back. “The towels are in the first cabinet on the left,” you call out, trying to keep your voice steady. “Take whichever you want. The shower doesn’t have any weird quirks.”
With a brief nod of thanks, she disappears down the hall. You hate the quiet she leaves behind. The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom while you lie back and stare blankly at the ceiling.
What if you’re too enthusiastic and she doesn’t like that ? What if it was her nice way of rejecting you ? What if she’s currently leaving the apartment, turning the next national team camp into the most agonizingly awkward week of your existence ?
Alexia doesn’t let you spiral for long, returning to the room less than ten minutes later. “Sorry for the wait,” she whispers, and the immediate pressure of her mouth against yours instantly silences the panic in your head. You pull her down, letting her take the space on top of you, needing the heavy, solid weight of her body to anchor you back to reality.
She doesn’t disappoint.
She moves with a slow, deliberate determination, making sure every inch of your skin is claimed. The moment she slides your top off, her breath hitches at the sight of the lingerie underneath. Hearing that tiny, involuntary gasp is exactly the validation you needed. You can't stop the cocky, relieved smile that breaks across your face.
She lets you talk too much, sometimes answering back with a confident answer, sometimes pressing her fingers a little harder against your skin to disrupt your train of thought. By the time you’re completely bare beneath her and her head is settled between your legs, you’re so worked up it’s borderline ridiculous. You catch the quiet triumph in her eyes right before she looks down. Her tongue works magic, and you come undone in a blur of minutes. Searing a path of kisses back up to your collarbone, she whispers in your ear, “Always happy to make you shut up.”
“Fuck off,” you murmur with absolutely no bite. Alexia just chuckles softly into your ear. You press your hands to her shoulders, signaling her to shift, and she relents with zero resistance, rolling onto her back as you slide on top of her. You’ve realized by now that her ears are incredibly sensitive. You catch her earlobe between your teeth, biting and sucking gently until she lets out a sharp, high gasp. “What do you want me to do to you?” you whisper against her skin.
It takes her some time to give you an answer, your hands are travelling up and down her sides in the meantime, sliding beneath her shirt because she’s still entirely dressed, a fact you plan on fixing very soon. “I don’t care,” she gasps out, staring straight up at you. “Just fuck me.”
Her words go straight through you. You smile against the side of her head, you love that Alexia isn’t the type to be embarrassed by words when in bed, because you don’t think anything could turn you on more than hearing these words. You bunch the fabric of her shirt, pulling it up over her ribs to expose her abs, a sudden thought hits you. “I have a strap, if you want.”
By that you mean that as soon as Alexia told you she was coming to your apartment a few days ago, you went to a sex shop to buy one because you couldn't trust internet shipping on such short notice. One of the employees recognized you, it was one of the top 3 most awkward moments of your life, and not third. Alexia doesn’t need to know that.
The look she gives you is so sinful it knocks the air straight out of your lungs. Her pupils are so dark you can barely see the color of her eyes anymore. “Yeah, seems like a good idea.” Her deadpan tone is a total contrast to the massive, bright smile splitting her face. You stand up, heading across the room to retrieve the box from your closet, the heavy weight of Alexia’s stare burning into your back with every step.
You drop the box on the bed right beside her and she raises her eyebrows. “I have to get you naked first, don’t I ?” You kill any reply she might have had by pressing your mouth firmly over hers. Her t-shirt is quickly stripped away and tossed back to the floor. Shifting your weight, you look down at her and blink, a realization hitting you. “Did you really change your bra after taking that shower ?” You let out a quiet laugh. “Unbelievable.”
“A sports bra is completely unsexy,” she defends herself. “I had this one, so I figured I might as well make use of it.” The fact that she made the effort is incredibly attractive, though it ultimately doesn't change much, the bra joining her shirt on the floor only moments later. Your mouth is immediately on her breasts, eliciting a sharp intake of air as her back arches to press herself firmly against you. “You’re less of a tease than usual,” she notes, her fingers tangling in your hair.
“Is there really a “usual” when we’ve only slept together like three times ?” you joke. You lean down to suck on her nipple, rewarded instantly when she lets out a low, vibrating moan. Pulling back just enough to lock eyes with her, you add, “And what I want to do to you later makes me want to rush a little.” You glance meaningfully toward the box sitting on the sheets right beside your bodies.
To drive your point home, you hook your fingers into the waistbands of her sweats and underwear, sliding them down her legs in one fluid motion. She parts her thighs for you the second they’re discarded. You don’t waste a single moment settling between them, your breath catching as her hand immediately tangles in your hair.
You press a sequence of heavy kisses against the soft skin of her inner thighs. “Do you want to come before the strap,” you murmur, nipping lightly at her skin until she lets out a sharp whimper, “or do you just want me to prepare you?”
She takes a few seconds to find her voice, her breath hitched. “You know... it always surprises me how crude you are in bed,” she manages, staring down at you. “Especially considering you’re absolutely nothing like that in real life.”
Since she’s still dodging the question, and you refuse to proceed blindly, you keep nipping at her inner thighs to force an answer. Alexia response is only a few more ragged whimpers. “I'm not a mind reader,” you murmur against her skin. “Besides, you don't know me as well as you think. My friends would heavily disagree with that. You should ask Misa sometime, she'd give you a completely different answer.”
“Do not talk about any of our teammates right now or I’m gonna be completely turned off,” she mutters, glaring down at you playfully. Realizing you’re still stubbornly waiting for a real answer, she finally gives it to you. “Make me come first.” Her words are accompanied by a sharp, demanding tug at your hair, a clear signal that she’s done talking
You shut your mouth and comply, completely abandoning the teasing for once. The second your tongue makes contact with her clit, Alexia throws her head back with a loud moan. The neighbors are absolutely going to have a problem with this, but honestly, that’s a problem for future-you to handle.
You try your best not to hurry, wanting to enjoy the taste of her right now instead of solely focusing on your anticipation for the strap. But your restraint only goes so far, and eventually, Alexia has to gasp out a breathless order for you to slow down.
When you feel how wet she’s become, you press a finger inside her, quickly adding a second when you realize how easily she takes it. The grip in your hair gets tighter, but you don’t complain. The addition of your fingers pushes Alexia over the edge much faster than you expected. Keeping the rhythm of your tongue and fingers perfectly synced, it only takes a few more minutes before she completely freezes beneath you, coming undone. Her moans are absolute music to your ears, and you hold her close as she gently rides out the wave, careful not to overstimulate her.
You hastily wipe your fingers on the sheets and press a line of heat up her skin, settling your entire body flush against hers. The first thing she manages to say is, “You should have sucked them.” Your questioning look forces her to elaborate. “Your fingers,” she adds, ensuring you understand exactly what she wanted to see.
You press a soft kiss to her cheek. “Notes for next time,” you murmur, rewarded by the slow smile spreading across her lips. You shift your mouth to her jaw and the column of her neck, trailing lazy, warm kisses there while you wait for her body to relax. Once you feel her breathing finally even out, you lift your head slightly to lock eyes with her. “Still up for the next part ?”
She traces slow lines up and down your spine, the scratch of her short nails sending a quiet shiver across your skin. “Even more up for it now.” You flash a quick smile against her lips and capture her mouth again. The second you do, her fingers lock onto the back of your neck, anchoring you close as she deepens the kiss.
You pull away from her, drawing a soft whine from her throat as the sudden lack of warmth hits her. Stepping off the bed, you grab the unopened box from the sheets and tear it open, pulling the fresh harness and silicone into the light.
You step into the gear, Alexia’s eyes tracking your every movement from the mattress. She sits up to help you adjust the straps, ensuring everything fits perfectly. Once it’s on, she looks up at you and gives a playful lick to the whole length of the silicone. “Maybe for another time,” you tease, looking down at her. Her eyes darken instantly.
You push her down so she’s on her back again, reaching into the drawer of your nightstand to grab the lube, applying a generous amount. You hadn’t bought a huge dildo anyway because you weren't sure what Alexia was going to like, but you still want to make sure it doesn’t cause her any pain.
She wraps her arms around your shoulders the moment you climb back on top of her. You lean down to kiss her softly. Alexia immediately tries to tilt her head and deepen it, but you firmly break it off, holding her gaze instead. “You tell me if there’s any discomfort, or if you want me to slow down. Anything at all, yeah?” you murmur, looking directly into her eyes.
She nods, whispering a soft “yeah” right against your lips before pulling you back down. This kiss is instantly more heated than the last, her tongue sliding into your mouth with hunger. Reaching down, you take the base of the strap and start to rub it up and down against her entrance. Alexia jerks beneath you with a sharp intake of breath. “Clit is still a bit sensitive,” she gasps out, her hands tightening on your shoulders. “Ease up on it for now, cariño.”
“Sorry, amor,” you mumble against her jaw, immediately adjusting your angle. You make your movements much more careful, but you can feel her hips tilting up, growing impatient beneath you. Giving in to the silent demand, you finally push inside. Alexia lets out a low, heavy groan, her nails digging deep into your shoulder blades as you closely watch her facial expression. The silicone slides in easily, burying itself all the way down, and you pause the moment you bottom out. You bite her jawline just hard enough to drag her back to reality. “Open your eyes.”
She does, and you’re nearly undone by the raw hunger staring back at you. A soft smile slips onto your face, met by a radiant, breathless grin from her.
She presses her left hand firmly against your hip, signaling you to move, while her right hand stays anchored to your shoulder. A volley of small, broken moans escapes her the second you begin to move inside her. Her left hand slides up from your hip to your stomach, both to guide the pace of your strokes and to feel the tight contraction of your abs with every push.
You experiment with different angles and depths to see what makes her react the most. Alexia, however, gets tired of the science project. She pulls you down, groaning a breathless “faster” right into your ear. You immediately lock into her pace, and the noise in the room spikes. Her moans get louder, and yours do too as the base of the harness begins to rub perfectly against your own clit with every thrust. In the middle of the friction, she catches her breath, her eyes locked on yours. “Can I bite you?”
You breathe out a rapid “yeah” without hesitation, and she wastes no time claiming your neck. You’re deep enough in pleasure that the sharp sting of her teeth actually feels better than the soreness underneath it.
You’re paying the price for a massive training block this morning followed by a heavy lifting session this afternoon. Your muscles are actively misfiring, and a flash of frustration hits you, feeling a bit useless as a professional athlete when your body starts to quit on you. Overwhelmed by the strain, you press your face into her hair. “Can you go on top?” you pant into her ear.
She doesn’t hesitate, instantly taking charge. Her palm presses into your abdomen to slide you out of her, followed by a firm shove to your chest that sends you flat on your back. She wastes zero time, instantly positioning herself and lowering her weight back onto the silicone. Watching Alexia take control like this is an absolute assault on the senses. If you were a man, you’re certain you would have come inside her from the sheer vision of her on top of you.
You put your hands on her sides, purely to touch her and not to direct her. Your left thumb caresses the Latin locution on her ribcage. She begins to move, choosing a heavy, rolling grind rather than a straight up-and-down rhythm. The shift forces the base of the strap to press against your clit perfectly, ripping a loud, uncharacteristic moan right out of your throat. Alexia smiles smugly down at you, clearly proud of herself for breaking your composure.
Your right hand slides down to her ass, digging firmly into her skin and making her throw her head back with a sharp gasp. Both of you are far too consumed by the pleasure to speak. The room completely fills with the heavy, uninhibited sounds of your bodies, noises you want permanently engraved into your brain.
Your hips instinctively want to snap up against the friction, but you’re held firmly in place by her weight and the heavy hand she keeps on your stomach to steady herself. You know she can feel you getting closer, your abs are contracting harder and faster with every passing second, betraying exactly how close you are to the edge under her palm.
She grabs your left hand from her hip and brings it directly to her clit. The moan she lets out as you touch her is downright pornographic. The sound instantly earns you a sharp, loud bang against the other side of the wall, making you both freeze for a split second.
“I don’t care. Don’t stop,” you rasp, your voice close to a plea as your thumb immediately resumes its friction. She surrenders to the movement again, and you squeeze your eyes shut, biting your lip to control the noises ripping out of your throat. You’re not entirely sure you’re doing a good job of it.
She breaks first, all the air completely leaving her lungs as her eyes squeeze shut, her body jerking violently on top of yours. The raw sight of her climaxing, paired with the involuntary, rolling movement of her hips that just won't stop, hits you like a freight train, shattering your own control seconds later.
You know you’re loud. You don’t even care. Your nails dig into the flesh of her ass so deeply it must hurt, anchoring her to you as the waves of pleasure completely take you under.
She almost collapses on top of you, the strap slipping free of her as her muscles finally give out. Your arms instinctively circle her back, holding her tight against your chest. For a few long moments, the room is completely still, the silence only broken by the heavy, ragged sound of your breathing. Under your palms, Alexia’s skin is hot and deeply flushed from the exertion and the pleasure. Her entire body is damp with sweat, and you’re well aware that yours is too.
She moves so she’s standing on her forearms, looking down at you. “Hey,” she whispers, a soft smile on her face. You don’t think you’ve ever found her this beautiful.
“Hey.” You smile back. You bring her down for a gentle kiss. She kisses your cheek and your jaw before settling her head against your shoulder, her weight back on you.
“It was a great idea to stay in Madrid tonight,” she declares. Your hand is running through her hair and she’s letting out small, satisfied noises.
“Just because of the sex ?” you tease.
“That’s a great bonus,” she answers, then her tone goes more serious. “I had a great time tonight with you, and I include everything when I say that. I like to hang out with you.”
You feel butterflies in your stomach at her words. “It was fantastic yeah.” You kiss the top of her head. “Do you have another event in Madrid soon by chance ?”
“We have so many games that no, I don’t have a lot of open time out of Barcelona,” she complains. “Maybe the week before the Copa Final but I might be busy.” You’re a bit disappointed, but you try not to let it show. “When is your game this weekend again ?” she asks
“On Saturday in Sevilla, 6PM,” you answer easily, you know your game schedule by heart.
“Do you think you could come straight to Barcelona after ? We play against Bayern on Sunday.” It makes you tense, you’re sure she can feel it, she adds quickly. “I’m not saying come to Camp Nou. Just at my house, you can stay there during the game if you prefer. And of course you can say no–.” It’s always strange to see Alexia ramble, it’s not a face you’re used to.
You shush her to make her stop. “Calm down amor.” Then you let the silence linger, because you truly have to think about it. It’s a big step coming to Alexia’s house, even if it’s similar to what she’s done. Tonight could be justified as a one-time thing, the camp as a moment out of reality. But if it keeps going, you will run out of lies to tell to yourself, and acknowledge the truth.
But that truth, that you wouldn't mind spending more time with Alexia, is starting to settle anyway. Refusing to go out of pride would just hurt yourself in the process. You still don't know how to make the logistics work in a long-term plan. Her schedule, your schedule, the fact that you're both supposed to be the faces of clubs that hate each other, the past conflicts, your personalities. You don't know if she even wants anything beyond this, or if you do. But you know you want to see her again, and for now, that's enough.
You kiss the top of her head again, it seems to calm her a little after the lengthy silence. “I’m gonna look at my agenda.” You grab your phone that’s on your nightstand, separating from Alexia in the movement. She comes back on top of you as soon as you lie down again.
You first open the Real Madrid schedule sent by the coaching staff. You’re supposed to sleep in Sevilla on Saturday and then travel back to Madrid on Sunday, the rest of Sunday is off. Training on Monday is late in the morning. It’s doable on this part, you will need to negotiate a bit with the club, especially on such short notice, but it shouldn’t be impossible.
You then open your calendar app. You wince as you realize you already have plans. “I have something with friends on Sunday,” you say.
“Oh.” Alexia is terrible at hiding her disappointment, you suppose media training doesn’t extend to real life. You take a moment to think. You look at her face, the badly repressed hope, and you sigh. You’re a bad friend.
“I will reschedule that to Monday.” You send a quick text to the group chat, asking them if it’s a problem and promising good gossip related to that. They’re gonna make fun of you for what you would do for a girl you’ve been hanging out for 2 weeks, but the opportunity to tease you will make rescheduling worth it for them. It’s a part of the season where you’re free enough that they won’t be mad, and a one-day delay is reasonable.
You open the app you use for plane tickets. You find a plane leaving Sevilla at 9:40PM and arriving at 11:25PM in Barcelona. You know it’s a bit late for Alexia the day before a big game, but she seems so happy you’re coming she says she doesn’t mind. You will book the plane once Real agrees.
You go take a shower together, as you both are supposed to follow a sleep schedule. Also, Alexia has a plane early and you know how much going to Barajas is hell in the morning because of the commute. You will arrive early to the training ground straight from the airport, additional training isn’t a bad thing anyway.
The next day, you spend the car ride talking about little things like your schedules for the upcoming days or how the traffic is annoying. You have your hand on Alexia’s thigh, and she plays with the rings on it through the ride.
You have already sent a message to your agency to tell them to see with the club for the arrangements. You should have an answer in the morning.
The goodbye does involve some making out that makes you feel like you’re back in high school. “I think you’re gonna be late,” you say against her lips.
“Shut up.” She kisses you again a second later as you smile against her lips. She does separate from you after that, because Alexia Putellas does have a sense of responsibility way too big for her own good.
You both are a bit more careful as you head out of the car. She has a pair of sunglasses and a cap on, and you avoid any physical contact. You hand her the bag that was in the trunk. “See you very soon I hope.”
Alexia looks around and sees that too many people are close to say a proper goodbye. “Yeah, tell me as soon as you have news on that.”
You look as she enters the airport, following her silhouette until she’s out of your sight. You tell yourself it's not a heartbreaking goodbye, you'll see her in a few days, but the car feels empty anyway. You sigh at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. Training will get your mind off things.
Training does just that for the morning. You’re full of sweat and you can feel every muscle in your body, the additional gym session you did before training isn’t helping.
You look at your phone as you enter the locker room. There’s your agent telling you it’s been seen with the club for the changes and it’s all good, there’s the group chat with your friends telling you the gossip better be good and then there’s Alexia saying to you she landed well and she really hopes to see you soon.
You smile at that message, you’re starting to type back as you’re interrupted. “You’re smiling at your phone, that’s suspect,” you hear Misa say.
“I’m just texting my friends.” You shrug, unbothered, that’s an easy lie.
“You being a good liar can’t get you out of being so focused on your phone all the time,” adds Athenea.
You roll your eyes, putting your phone face down on the bench. “Not my problem if you all don’t believe me.”
“I can’t believe Vicky wasn’t lying when she said you got out of your room during camp to go see an English girl,” Misa says. That gets the attention from everyone in the locker room. Fucking great. Even the ones that don’t speak Spanish are looking up because they know an interesting conversation is going on.
“How the hell would I have met an English girl anyway ?” Deflect, always deflect. But also let them think they’re on the good path with the English girl.
“Tinder ?” You look at Athenea like she’s crazy. “Yeah you on Tinder sounds weird. I don’t know you’ve seen plenty of girls before, wherever you meet them.”
“Plenty is a stretch,” you defend yourself. They look unconvinced. “Once again leave me and my personal life alone.” You’re annoyed by them being this questioning. Even if it wasn’t Alexia you were seeing, you wouldn’t tell them a girl you’ve been seeing for two weeks.
Linda enters the locker room and looks around perplexed when she sees all the attention is on you. “We’re trying to find out who this one.” Misa points at you. “Is dating. Our track leads us to England.”
There’s some recognition behind Linda’s eyes, you don’t like that. “Oh coach just told us you weren’t coming with us to Sevilla, you’re going to London ?”
You’re happy they’re so far off, but also worried they’re gonna figure out something if they realize you’re not seeing an English girl. You will need to make a believable lie about that. “Once again, it’s none of you all business. Now I’m gonna take a shower.” You need to figure out a way to sell it.
The next day, you agree to do some extra reps with Misa after training, knowing what it will lead to. You two lay on the grass as you look at the sky, the heat a great reminder that summer is near.
You feel a bit bad about it, but you make up a whole story to Misa. How you actually met that girl in an airport three weeks ago but she’s from London, the camp was the occasion to see her again, you’re indeed going to London this weekend, you don’t want to speak about it to the others because it’s so new.
You make it believable, you can see Misa is buying it. You know she will back you up when needed, which is what you’re looking for. The season is ending soon anyway, soon enough that it’s believable Misa never gets to meet her.
After that training, you’re on your balcony, the sun kissing your skin. It’s a bit too hot but it doesn’t bother you. Your eyes are closed as you’re thinking, always a dangerous thing.
You know it’s bad morally to lie to Misa, but it was necessary. Ignoring the whole thing would have just made it more suspicious. You’re fairly sure Misa would understand your decision if she had the whole picture. You file the guilt away for later.
You’re not ashamed of seeing Alexia, really. You might have a slight problem with seeing Alexia Putellas. She’s everything you swore you’d keep out of your life, and you just booked a flight to see her.
The rule was simple. No footballers. And then Alexia was present when you needed a shoulder to lean on. Wise words, jokes, a physical presence. Before you knew it, you were in the same bed.
Alexia Putellas is football incarnate, she’s hard work and dedication, a football nerd according to everyone that talked about her to you. Misa always says the only person she knows who's worse than you about having a lifestyle made for football is her. You know how football makes life complicated, you’ve always been terrified of it devouring you. You feel like she’s not terrified of that idea, that she enjoys it. That might be some fundamental incompatibility.
And if it's already doomed, why invite the scrutiny ? That’s why you don’t want to tell people about it, you don’t see it working out long-term without driving you crazy along the way. You don’t want to tell anyone in Real Madrid because it makes it even more about football. People will care about the football aspect, the rivalry aspect, before anything else.
Close friends are different. You can tell Aitana about it because she’s your friend before being a football player for you. She’s football obsessed, but she knows how much you can bear to discuss that before telling her to shut up. You will likely tell your friends on Monday because for them it will be more of an anecdote about you and a woman and not something about the Alexia Putellas. They'll care that she made you cook dinner and that you're flying to Barcelona on a whim. That's the version of her you want someone to know.
Then you think about Alexia and you, chatting about everything that comes to mind. About her eyes, about running your tongue along her jaw, her abs. You think of her telling you her ACL tear reminded her how football isn’t everything. You think of the way she looked when she was sitting on your balcony, how natural it was to be around her. You’re still going to Barcelona this weekend.
Aitana always tells you you’re the most controlled person she knows on the pitch but outside the pitch, you have a talent for walking into plane crashes.
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A/n : The first draft of this chapter only had 6.4k words, I don't even know how I ended up with something that big. Honestly I'm a bit ambivalent about this part, I hope r's thoughts don't feel too repetitive. She's clearly acknowledging her feelings for Ale at least now.
I know they're moving fast, it's not my fault they're lesbians. Now we're getting to parts 7 and 8, which are kinda my favorites 👀
I absolutely love this story and firmly believe more people should be ready it. It’s so well written, the characters have so much lore that just all adds up perfectly, and the smut is top notch. Absolutely can’t wait for the next chapter
You had a lot on your plate: a little sister to raise, two jobs to juggle, and a massive secret. For years, you had been secretly working at a strip club to fund your sister’s needs: from school trips to football kits. Between keeping a secret and making ends meet, there was no room in your life for anything else, especially not romance. Meeting Alexia Putellas made that a little difficult.
fic index | chapter one | chapter two
please do not repost, plagiarize or feed to AI!
a/n: this is a lengthy chapter and i guess a bit slowburn with a bit of world-building (?) so just buckle up cause it’s a looong ride but i hope u think its worth it
⋆˙⟡♡ "Nana, please, just hold still." You heard the exhaustion and exasperation in your own voice before you could soften it. You took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to keep yourself patient as your sister moved restlessly in her seat.
Sometimes, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be in a good mood in the morning no matter how hard you tried, especially when you’ve had maybe three hours of sleep and your body was still sore from your performance the night before. You usually still tried to stay composed and to not let the exhaustion get to you but ever since that night, it felt like your patience had worn even thinner. You figured that it was perhaps due to your frustration with yourself or maybe it was just how that night left you feeling uneasy. Whatever it was, it had been affecting your mood.
Your fingers worked through your sister's hair, fixing it into a braid. You decided on nothing elaborate today, just a simple hairstyle that would survive the school day without falling apart.
“Just stay put please, Aina,” you pleaded, tone getting annoyed. “Rocío is leaving soon and I don’t want you to go to school with messy hair.”
Aina sighed dramatically. "But why can't you take me?" she said with a tone of annoyance. "You never take me to school anymore."
A pang of guilt pierced your heart, sighing through it. Aina wasn’t wrong. It had been a while since you took your little sister to school. You probably didn’t think about how much it meant to her; you just knew it was difficult for you to keep up with it. You needed those one or two extra hours of rest before your shift at the coffee shop and Rocío was more than willing to take Aina for you. Even if you wanted to, you knew realistically that you’d tire yourself out if you promised to bring Aina to school more often, and that would just put you in an even more sour mood.
You steered her attention elsewhere. "Your birthday is coming up," you said, tone lighter, and felt genuinely pleased with yourself for the redirect. "You’re turning eight, almost a big girl now. Have you thought about what you want to do for your birthday? Want to invite some friends over and I can cook your favorite meals?"
It worked immediately. Aina forgot whatever speech she'd been building about you not taking her to school more often; she turned around to face you, which you hadn't quite anticipated mid-braid, but you managed. She looked up at you with those eyes of hers — wide and glassy like a puppy dog. "Well," she started, a smile already on her face. "I don't really want a party..."
"No party?" You asked, urging her to turn around so you can continue fixing her hair. “How about a mini party with you, me and Rocío ? Like we did last year for Christmas?”
"No." She shook her head, seemingly set on something else. "What I actually want… is for you to sign me up to be a mascot for a Barcelona game."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "A mascot?"
"Yes." She nodded, very certain. "You know, the kids who walk out with the players at the start. Matteo from school did it last season and he said his mum just entered him in a raffle. He got to go on the pitch and meet the players and show up on TV and everything. He told me he even got a high-five from Lamine Yamal, which is cool and all, but I wanna meet Aitana."
You opened your mouth, already doing the mental calculation of how hard it would be to actually get a slot through a raffle. Surely, there were also a bunch of kids in Barcelona who wanted that opportunity. "Aina, a raffle means they draw names at random, I can't guarantee—"
"I know what a raffle is, YN," she said, with a small eye roll. You chuckled at the expression but felt a bit guilty cause you were certain she picked up the eyerolling from you. You mentally noted to be more careful about rolling your eyes around her especially when she was at the exact age where she absorbed and copied everything.
"I just want you to try," she added, and the eye roll was gone, replaced again by those huge, pleading eyes. "Please."
Something in your chest went soft. You reached out and pinched her cheek gently. She scrunched her nose but didn't pull away. "Okay, cosita," you said. "I'll try."
She threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly, pressing her face against you as she did. You held her, resting your chin on top of her head, already worried about this whole raffle thing before you could even look into it. After a while, you could hear Rocío emerging out of her room, already holding Aina’s backpack.
She smiled at you two. “Ready, Nana?”
Aina pulled away but not without giving you a cheek kiss. "Yesss, okay, bye YN." She said merrily before running off to take Rocío ’s hand.
You gave Rocío a small, grateful wave and she gave you a nod that suggested she understood completely. As the door closed, you felt your shoulders slump and an exhale make its way out of your lungs.
How am I going to get her that slot?
⋆˙⟡♡ As soon as the morning rush at the coffee shop calmed, you grabbed your phone and began researching on this whole mascot raffle thing. You were now on the page of the agency that handled the raffle. You scrolled back to the top of the page and started again, certain you must have missed something, because surely the process could not actually be this convoluted.
But it was, in fact, this convoluted. The more you read, the less it made sense. You groaned in frustration.
"You know," Rocío said from behind you, stacking the last of the clean glasses into their spot. "You wouldn't have to be standing there torturing yourself over a raffle if you would just talk to a certain someone."
"Don't." You didn't even look up from your phone, rolling your eyes. "Don't start with me right now, Rocío ."
"I'm just saying—"
"I know what you're just saying." You scrolled further down the page with a growing sense of despair. "Why is this so complicated? I have to sign-up on their website to get to an email with the online form which I have to fill out and submit just to get the details on when the physical sign-ups would be, where I still have to queue, and all of that is just for the chance that my sister gets to stand next to a footballer for five minutes."
Rocío leaned against the counter with her arms crossed, shaking her head "If only there was a much simpler solution available to you."
You locked your phone and dropped it into your apron pocket. "Absolutely not. I’d rather fill up a hundred forms and stand in a line for two hours than do what you’re thinking."
She sighed through her nose. You made a mistake telling Rocío about that night at the club, thinking naively that sharing it would make you feel better. But since that night, Rocío had been bringing it up at every opportunity she could, insisting that you should try to message Alexia or whatever.
"YN, honestly," she said. "I don't understand why you’re acting like it was such a catastrophic thing. She asked for your name. She didn't ask for your bank details or your home address or your email password or anything that should have sent you running out of that room."
You shook your head. "It's not about what she asked," you said, picking up a cloth and running it along a section of counter that was already perfectly clean, just needing something to do with your hands. "It's about the principle of it. I work very hard to keep things separate — who I am at work and who I am everywhere else. That line exists for a reason. It's why none of the Somni girls come to the apartment anymore, even if I love those girls dearly. I just… I don't mix those parts of my life and it's why the whole thing works at all. It’s how I protect Aina from ever finding out," You pressed the cloth a little harder into the counter. "The moment you start blurring that line, shit gets messy and right now, messy is the last thing I need."
Rocío was quiet for a moment, watching you clean a counter that did not need cleaning, exhaling. "What exactly do you think Alexia Putellas is going to do with your first name?" she said, not unkindly but just inquisitively. "Hunt you down? Steal your identity? Blackmail you in front of Aina?"
You stayed quiet, not looking at your best friend because you knew she was making a point. And you hated it when she was right.
Rocío tilted her head. "She probably just thought you were attractive and wanted to know who you actually were. Maybe she just wanted to ask you out."
That was the point at which Rocío's argument fell apart.
"She wouldn’t want to actually date me. And quite frankly, I wouldn’t want to go on a date with her either," you said, with a dry laugh. "I told you… it was supposed to be harmless. A small crush on a client, something fun, a way to blow off some steam when I could without it meaning anything.”
You exhaled, shaking your head at yourself. “And then I let my guard down for five minutes and nearly handed her myself on a plate." You said. “This is why I can’t allow myself to let loose and have nice things. I can’t control myself once I do.”
Rocío and you fell silent for a moment. You sighed. "Besides," you added quieter, "she hasn't come back anyway. So it's done."
Rocío made a sound that managed to communicate considerable skepticism without using any actual words. Then she straightened up and picked up a water pitcher to fill up the customer's empty water glasses.
"Well, good luck with the mascot registration, then," she said with a fake pleasant tone. "Because I will tell you, that child could not stop talking about it the whole way to school this morning, on and on about the players and the pitch and meeting Aitana. So, you better be sure you’re getting that slot.”
You sighed.
⋆˙⟡♡ You owed Rocío a very nice dinner for this.
She had agreed to cover for you during the morning shift at the coffee shop without too much negotiation, which either meant she was feeling generous or she felt guilty enough about all the Alexia comments and was doing it to make it up to you somehow. Either way, you were grateful.
You had set your alarm for an ungodly hour, barely slept a wink, dragged yourself out of bed, and spent twenty minutes in the kitchen making sure Aina's breakfast was ready before she woke up and that you at least had a quick shower.
Then you left the apartment, stepping into the cold of the early morning, the sky still grey and the streets quiet. The offices where the physical registration was being conducted were not nearby.
Of course they weren't.
Which was why you were on the metro by six, standing because the seats were already taken by other people who looked equally as tired as you were, holding the overhead bar and trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever queue situation you were about to walk into.
Your body ached more than usual. Last night had been brutal in a way you had not anticipated. It was a bachelor party for a group of rich, finance dudes so Pilar was extra highstrung, making sure everyone did their numbers well.
And by some unlucky fate, one of your co-workers had gone down during warm-up, tripping off of the stage and landing on her wrist. You, being the only girl who knew her choreography having done it before, was now tasked with performing it, on top of all of your other numbers.
So, here you were, calves practically throbbing and a headache beginning to develop. The fact that the guy beneath you in one of the seats thought it’d be smart to chow down on what smelled like a purely onion sandwich, the pungent smell wafting to you, making your head throb even more.
I could have just asked Alexia for a favour, said a small, unhelpful voice somewhere in the back of your mind. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about this.
You shut it down immediately. No. Absolutely not.
You were not going to be the person who leveraged a moment of weakness — a lapse in professionalism, a line you should never have crossed — into a personal favour.
Most especially, you were not going to let Aina's name be connected, even loosely and privately, to that part of your life. Your sister existed in a completely separate world from Somni and everything that came with it, and that was not a boundary you had any intention of softening, not even for something she wanted this badly, not even when the alternative was standing in a queue at six in the morning with what you were increasingly certain was the beginning of a headache forming somewhere behind your eyes.
You were going to do this the right way.
The metro doors opened and you joined the stream of people moving toward the exit, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, preparing yourself for whatever was ahead. You just really, deeply hoped the queue wasn't as long as you feared it was going to be.
⋆˙⟡♡ Aina’s shrieks pierced your ear. Your sister excitedly jumped up and down the couch after you had told her that you’ve gotten the email that confirmed that she was chosen for the mascot position for Barcelona’s next game.
If her shouts from getting the signed shirt and armband didn’t wake up the entire apartment building, the shrieks from now certainly would have startled them.
Nana, who was wearing the signed shirt like a dress and a Barcelona-themed party hat, was jumping up and down, clearly filled with glee. “Best birthday ever! Best birthday ever!” She chanted.
Rocío excitedly joined in on the chanting, grabbing your sister off of her bed so they can now prance around hand-in-hand in circles as they chanted together. You sighed, feeling a deep satisfaction settle inside you watching your sister so happy, giving yourself a pat in the back.
“YN, join us,” Rocío said before continuing in their circular chant session.
You shook your head at the offer and laughed. “C’mon, Nana, you still have to blow your birthday candles.”
She ran up to you, hugging you tightly. “No need, YN. You made all my wishes come true already.”
You bent down to hug your sister tightly, feeling warmth spread through you. Maybe all the hard work and effort was worth it because nothing could replace this feeling.
⋆˙⟡♡ The morning of the game, you were up before your alarm.
You laid in the dark for a few minutes, looking over at Aina who was in her princess pajamas, still sprawled beside you. She had begged you last night to sleep in the Alexia shirt but you refused. You were only realizing now that your sister had still stubbornly managed to sleep with Alexia’s armband hanging on her small arms loosely.
You sighed as you got out of bed, heading for the shower. You already took the night shift off at Somni the other night for Aina’s birthday which meant that you could not have taken a night off last night. This meant that not only were you tired but also that you had to wake up earlier than usual to scrub off the remnants of your heavy performance make-up and the body glitter you all had to wear.
You had been thinking about today all week, excited for Aina but anxious about seeing Alexia again.
The Somni costume and make-up was enough to differentiate your real self from Rubi. In all your years performing, no one has recognized you outside of Somni. There would be times where regulars of the club would find themselves in the coffee shop you worked in and they all looked at you with the expression of unfamiliarity.
But then again, none of them got that close for that long. None of them has seen you without a wig. It was just Alexia.
And that was why you were roughly scrubbing the body glitter off of you so hard you were practically peeling off the first layer of your skin as you did. Taking an extra precaution to scrub off anything that could connect you to Rubi.
That also meant dressing as far as you could from Rubi. You didn’t put any make-up, just a light balm and concealer under your eyes, and you borrowed Rocío’s clothes — a loose Barcelona shirt and cargo pants. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a long moment.
You looked okay, which was good. The last thing you wanted was to stand out; you just wanted to blend in. And thankfully, you did. You looked just like someone's random older sister at a football match, which was precisely what you were, which was precisely the point.
You went and made breakfast, bracing yourself for the day ahead.
⋆˙⟡♡ By the time you arrived at the stadium, Aina was practically bouncing with excitement, nonstop yapping about how excited she was to finally meet Aitana. She had been good and behaved over breakfast, contained enough to sit down and eat, but the moment you'd left the apartment, her energy had accelerated steadily and has now officially gone off the rails.
You took her hand, making sure she wouldn’t break free and run off. She held your hand but she was looking everywhere at once: at the stadium exterior, at the other children gathering near the designated entrance, at the staff in their bibs with their clipboards, at everything with the wide-open attention of someone who wanted to memorize all of it simultaneously.
"YN, look, that's where they come out," she said, pulling your arm in one direction. “That’s where we’re going to go.”
You nodded as you got your wristbands from the staff, trying to pay attention to both the staff and your sister, who was still going on-and-on about everything she saw.
"And look at the size of this stadium! It’s massive, YN!” She beamed. “Everyone is going to be so jealous at school when I tell them all about today.”
She giggled, which was a good sound, and you squeezed her hand and tried to let some of her excitement be contagious.
Still, there was that anxiety of seeing her again.
She probably won't even look at you, you told yourself to calm down. And if she does, she wouldn’t know who you were.
The noise level in the room shifted as soon as the players arrived. The kids collectively cheered as they arrived, tugging on their parent’s arms, gushing as they arrived.
“YN! YN! It’s Alexia,” Aina said, excitedly pointing.
You followed your sister’s gesture and that’s when you saw her.
You knew exactly who you were looking at and yet it took a while for it to register that that was the same Alexia you knew. Because the person walking out in the Barça training kit with her hair scraped back in a tight ponytail and her eyes already somewhere past the room looked so disarmingly different.
At Somni, she was so loose and easy-going, eyes dark and fixated on you. Seeing her now felt somewhat unfamiliar. You carefully looked at her, watched her eyes level and distant, as if already focused on the game ahead. She took a deep breath before finally greeting the kids nearby, crouching down, smiling at them. Even her smile looked so different, bright and wide, so professional.
Your attention was interrupted once the staff took Aina, shuffling her into a line. She looked back at you from where she was made to stand, giving you a thumbs up. You chuckled, waving one last time before you moved to the side along with the other guardians.
You watched Aina talk to the player beside her, excitedly bouncing and likely already talking the player’s ear off. You sighed and turned to head out, not sparing Alexia another glance.
It was good that Alexia did not recognize you, that she didn’t even look your way. It was safe that way.
And yet… part of you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed.
⋆˙⟡♡ Aitana had been paired with kids before. It was a regular enough fixture of the pre-match routine that she had a general approach to it: smile, crouch down to their level, ask their name, keep it warm and simple because they were usually too starstruck to do much more than stare at her for the first thirty seconds anyway.
This one was different. The little girl had begun talking before Aitana even had an opportunity to crouch down.
"Hi, I'm Aina which kinda sounds like Aitana but everyone calls me Nana and I'm so excited to meet you, I've been excited since my sister told me I got in and that was already a few days ago so I've been excited for a while—"
Aitana blinked and let out an easy laugh, a bit overwhelmed at the kid’s obvious excitement. "Hi, Nana. I'm Aitana." She interrupted, not knowing when else she could have an opportunity to speak in between the kid’s rambling.
"I know! " Nana exclaimed, raising her hands up. "You're my favourite player ever!"
"Yeah?" Aitana said with a smile.
“Yes, you’re my favorite because I really want to be a midfielder like you!” Aina said with a small jump. “And also, because you’re the smallest one in your team like how I’m the smallest in my team!”
Kika, who was just behind Aitana heard the statement, and chuckled. “How about me? Am I your favorite too?” She asked Nana.
Aina hummed, genuinely thinking for a while. “I think you’re my fifth favorite.”
Kika laughed at the honesty, feigning offense. “Just fifth?”
Aina, oblivious to Kika’s acting, listed them down. “Yes, it goes: Aitana, Alexia, Patri, Salma, and then, Kika!” She said excitedly before remembering. “Oh you know, my sister got me a signed shirt from Alexia for my birthday too but —”
Aina paused, unsure of whether or not she should continue. Aitana furrowed her eyebrows. “But what?”
“I’m starting to think it isn’t real,” she answered in a quiet voice, looking back to check if you were there. “Cause when I told my classmate Matteo about it yesterday. He said those shirts cost a lot of money and well… my sister has no money.”
Aitana found the little kid’s honesty amusing, chuckling a bit at the candor. “You know what, I think your friend Matteo is just jealous.”
Aina pouted. “Yeah?”
Aitana nodded. “Let me tell you what, how about I give you another shirt later and we can take a photo so that your friend Matteo wouldn’t ever doubt you.” She smiled. “As long as you can wait a bit after the game.”
Nana nodded immediately, doing a little hop in her place. "Yes! Please! I would really love that!” She stuck out her hand towards Aitana. “It’s a deal”
"Deal." Aitana kept her voice serious, acting as if it was a serious negotiation, shaking the little girl’s hands. “Okay, just behave now and I promise, I’ll give you it later. Good?”
Aina saluted and stopped jumping, standing up straight. Aitana laughed and took her hand. “Okay, let’s go, Nana. Let’s win this game.”
⋆˙⟡♡ Aitana grabbed a marker from Irene as she continued to explain why she was asking everyone around for a marker. “She might genuinely be one of the funniest kids I've met in a long time so I just felt like I had to give her something."
“Yeah, she’s hilarious," Kika added, in the middle of getting changed. “She told Aitana she was her favorite because she was the smallest in the team.”
Esmee and Alexia laughed.
Aitana frowned and added. "Which is crazy because I'm not even the smallest. Vicky is shorter than me,” she said. “Plus, she said it was because she wants to be a midfielder too but of course, you only heard the short part.”
Kika gave her a teasing shrug and Aitana rolled her eyes but laughed. She sat down on the bench near the lockers, propping the shirt on her knee, signing on the back of it. “Okay, now, I gotta give it to her and take a photo so that her classmates wouldn’t think it’s fake.”
“Fake?” Patri asked.
“Yeah, apparently her sister bought her a signed Alexia shirt for her birthday." She looked towards Alexia’s direction to make sure that she was listening. "And now she thinks it’s fake because her classmate said so.”
The people nearby gave their awws, feeling bad for the girl. “Her classmates are just jealous,” Patri commented before pausing to think. “Though, the shirt might actually be fake. I saw someone selling a shirt on ebay that I apparently signed and the signature looked nothing like mine.”
Alexia laughed, shaking her head, turning back to Aitana. “How old is she?” She asked in the middle of undoing her boots.
"Seven, I think?" Aitana answered, throwing on a fresh shirt. “You should meet her too, Alexia. She said you’re her second favorite player.”
Kika scoffed. “Lucky you, I’m just her fifth favorite.”
Patri laughed. “How about me?”
“Third.” Aitana and Kika answered at the same time.
Patri smiled before turning to Kika to tease her. Alexia chuckled. “Yeah, I should give her something too, just so she can flex on her jealous classmates,” she joked, standing up to borrow the marker from Alexia.
Aitana stood up and readied the shirt, hanging it on her forearm. “I’ll head on outside cause I don’t want to keep the kid waiting,” she said. “But I’m telling you: you’re going to love that kid. She’s like a puppy dog.”
Alexia chuckled. “I bet.”
⋆˙⟡♡ Aina was practically bursting with excitement in a way you have never seen her before. You could tell she was trying to contain her energy, stay patient, but it was obvious how hyped she was.
The Barcelona social media manager had approached you after catching part of Aina and Aitana's interaction from a while ago, finding it adorable and asked if she could film a short clip of Aina receiving the shirt for a Children's Day post. You agreed, and she positioned herself between you and Aina to get the angle she needed, which was just perfect cause now you could hide behind her just in case Alexia passes by.
Soon enough, Aitana came out, a shirt in hand. Aina exclaimed the player’s name, rushing over to hug her tightly. Aitana chuckled, crouching down to hug your sister. You watched from behind the social media manager’s shoulder, smiling warmly at the interaction, watching how your sister’s eyes practically sparkled as she talked to the footballer. You couldn’t hear much of what was going on but Aitana was genuinely listening and chatting with your sister, genuinely enjoying the conversation and even laughing at Aina’s statements.
Rocío always joked that Aina got all the humor and the charm but you never found it offensive because she was right. That girl was just so loveable even when she was brimming with energy.
You finally stepped forward when the camera lowered, reaching them just as Aitana straightened up.
"Thank you, Aitana." you said, and meant it thoroughly, shaking her hand as you did. "She won’t ever forget this. I bet she won’t let us forget either. She idolizes you so much.”
"I believe it," Aitana said, with a chuckle. "She reminded me of myself at that age, honestly, just eager and full of energy.”
She looked down at your sister, giving her a small cheek pinch. “Nana here told me that she plays midfield too,” she gave your sister another smile before looking back at you. “You should look into La Masia for her training. Might be worth the shot.”
You nodded. "I'll look into it."
Aitana opened her mouth to say something else, then glanced back toward the door. "Oh — wait.” She said, turning to the social media manager, stopping her from packing up the ring light. “You should keep filming.”
The staff looked at Aitana who simply explained. “I told my teammates about Aina, and Alexia said that she’s coming out to give Aina something too."
As soon as you heard Alexia’s name the same nervous feeling returned to your gut. You shook your head. "That's really not necessary—" you started.
"Alexia is giving me something too?" Aina exclaimed loudly with amused disbelief. She spun around to look at you with the biggest smile on her face. “YN, did you hear that? I’m getting something from Alexia too!”
You closed your mouth, forced a smile, and gave a stiff nod. As soon as the social media manager turned the lights back on, you told Aina to wait for Alexia and very deliberately moved behind the social media girl, who had her phone raised again, and stayed there, watching Aitana pull your sister into one last hug before disappearing back through the locker room door.
You took a deep breath. Calm down, you told yourself. She has no idea who you are or what you actually look like. It’s no big deal.
But all that self-soothing proved useless as soon as Alexia came through the door, causing your heart to beat at an unhealthily fast rate
She had changed out of her kit, wearing their sleeveless training kit, showing off her arms. Alexia’s hair was still damp at the edges from the shower. Even without make-up, she looked breathtakingly beautiful. She gave the lingering staff a brief, polite acknowledgement and then her attention settled on Aina, who was looking up at her, eyes wide and teeth bared into a huge toothy grin.
You moved, quietly, directly behind the social media manager, moving even further away just to be safe. Though, at that distance, it meant you couldn't hear a word of what they were saying, which was its own particular frustration, but it was the safest option.
Aina greeted Alexia, rushing into a hug. Alexia crouched down as she took your sister into her arms, hugging her warmly. You watched Alexia smile at Aina as the two began to talk, handing her a shirt, which garnered her another hug from the little girl.
"Aitana tells me you already have my signature," Alexia said as she slowly pulled away from the hug, tilting her head a bit.
Aina nodded. “Yes, I have three.” She said before holding out the shirt Alexia just gave her. “And now four!”
Alexia looked a bit taken aback, chuckling, thinking to herself that maybe this little girl’s sister had gone a bit crazy with a Sharpie one night. "Four? That’s a lot! You’ll have your own Alexia collection soon,” she joked.
Aina smiled but something about it carried a hesitation. She paused, looking behind her to see if you were within earshot before moving closer to Alexia. “Well, I’m not sure if it’s real,” she said to Alexia in a small, guilty voice. “My classmate Matteo said that maybe my sister got scammed on the internet since he doesn’t think the signatures are real but please don't say anything because it'll really hurt her feelings. I bet she saved a bunch just to buy me those."
Alexia gave her a small, exaggerated pout, tilting her head. "Really? What makes him think that?" she asked, feeling genuinely bad about the situation. "Maybe your sister really did get it for you though. Has she ever met me before?"
Aina shook her head vigorously. "No, my sister doesn't even watch football anymore cause she’s always working," she said bluntly with a sigh. "But she said she bought the shirt and armband online and that the paper was from when she met you at a restaurant. I don’t know if the last part is true either."
Alexia nodded slowly, manufacturing a thoughtful expression. "You know what, now that I think about it, I think I did sign something for a girl at a restaurant once," she said, which was a complete lie, but the alternative was letting this child go home thinking her sister had wasted money trying to make her happy, and she wasn't going to do that. “And I think the girl did look a lot like an older version of you!”
At the end of the day, at least, she’d have one real signature, Alexia thought to herself. I’m not crushing this kid’s happiness.
Your sister immediately perked up, eyes widening. “Really? Then that might be her! Everyone does say we look alike!” she exclaimed. “I really had my doubts, Alexia. Cause it was just on this crumpled receipt and Matteo said she might have just traced your signature or something."
Alexia laughed but paused, expression turning serious for a moment, as a memory snagged in the back of her head. She furrowed her eyebrows together, blinking as she remembered the interaction she had backstage, from the time the other Somni girls asked her to sign a receipt for Rubi’s sister.
Alexia tilted her head. “Did it say anything on the paper?”
Aina nodded “It said: Força Barça, Nana!”
"Nana," Alexia repeated. When Aitana had mentioned the name Aina earlier, it didn’t really bring up any recollection with Alexia. It was a common enough name. But Nana was something she remembered. She looked past Aina's shoulder, scanning, but couldn't find you. She brought her attention back to the girl in front of her, keeping her expression easy so Aina wouldn't notice anything had shifted. "Where's your sister now?"
Aina turned around. She looked around before finally locating you, hiding behind the social media manager. You watched helplessly as her little arm went up, finger pointing directly at you with an innocent smile on her face, totally unaware of the fact that you were practically panicking at that point.
What’s worse was the social media manager shifted just enough to expose you.
Alexia looked up. Her eyes found yours and her face went very still. You looked away, fixing your gaze somewhere past her, jaw tight. She held the look for one more second before returning her attention to Aina, and whatever she had just recognized, she kept it entirely to herself, her expression resettling into a warm smile.
She continued to engage Aina for another few minutes, talking to her about football, the match. The conversation went on and at some point, Alexia gave the social media manager a thumbs up, as if signalling them to wrap up. The girl in front of you turned off the small ringlight and lowered the phone before walking off, leaving you completely seen.
Alexia looked at you once more from across the small distance between you. Without the wig, without the makeup, without any of it, you looked so different that she understood immediately why she hadn't placed it sooner. If it hadn't been for Aina and the receipt and the name, she likely wouldn't have connected it at all.
"Aina," she said, glancing down at your sister, "why don't you introduce me to your sister?"
Aina nodded before turning around, rushing towards you. She came back to you with her arms occupied with the merch from both Aitana and Alexia, absolutely beaming with pride. You smiled at her, still avoiding Alexia’s gaze, crouching over to take the stuff from your sister’s arms and carefully placing it into your totebag.
Alexia trailed just behind Aina. Close enough now that she could see the resemblance clearly: same hair, face shape, same lips. Alexia smiled at her own observation, eyes flickering across your face, biting her lip to stop herself from smiling too widely.
“Alexia, this is my sister,” Aina announced with excitement.
You straightened up and looked somewhere in Alexia's general direction but not making eye contact. “Thank you. Aina is a big fan.”
"Of course." Alexia glanced down at Aina. "You should come to watch more games, Nana. I’d love to see you again.”
Aina grabbed your arm immediately. "Hear that, YN? Alexia wants to see me again!”
You smiled at your sister but internally you were cursing at the situation, fairly certain Alexia had just heard your name loud and clear. "Yeah, of course, we will," you said, already reaching for Aina's hand. "Okay, we should get going. We don't want to keep Alexia. I'm sure she's very busy.”
Aina was a bit startled at your urgency but just nodded and agreed. You turned already, holding Aina’s hand in yours, ready to leave. “Say goodbye, Nana.”
Aina, thankfully, didn't put up a fight this time. "Okay," she said agreeably but not before letting go of your hand and running back to Alexia to give her another hug. "It was really nice meeting you, Alexia!"
Alexia hugged her back, laughing softly. "You too, Nana."
You gave Alexia a brief nod, eyes down, and turned for the exit with your sister’s hand back in yours. Aina was still craning her neck back, looking behind at Alexia, reluctant to let the moment end.
Alexia waved at her. "Bye, Nana!"
You kept walking, focusing on the exit.
“And bye, YN.” Alexia followed up.
You didn't turn around, just kept your eyes on the exit and your pace steady, like you hadn't even heard it.
Shit.
⋆˙⟡♡ "Bye, YN," Rocío repeated back to you, mouth wide parted in disbelief. She huffed, nodding as if impressed with it. "Oh, she's good. That's slick. Really cheeky."
You groaned and dropped your face back into the throw pillow. As soon as you got home, you’ve been wanting to tell Rocío everything that happened but Aina took up most of the conversation, yapping on and on. Thankfully, she got the idea to call her friends and tell them about it too which finally gave you an opportunity to recount what happened to your best friend, still in disbelief.
"How am I this unlucky," you said, muffled, into the cushion.
"Unlucky," Rocío repeated. "How is that unlucky?”
You groaned, lifting your head up and reaching over to the pizza box on the coffee table, pulling out a slice that had gone a bit cold. You noticed that Aina’s Aina's plate was still sitting there mostly untouched. You sighed, figuring you’d let her talk to her friends first and just remind her to finish it later.
“I mean unlucky in a sense that nothing goes how I want it,” you explained. You were interrupted mid-thought by the sound of Aina’s loud laughter from her room. You sighed. “At least one of us is pleased with herself.”
Rocío smiled in the direction of the door, chuckling. "Imagine how much happier she'd be if you started dating Alexia."
You turned to look at her flatly. "You gotta let that go. You're constructing an entire narrative out of nothing."
"Out of nothing," she said, giving you a look. "The woman came back with gifts for your sister, fully made out with you, then recognized you out of your Somni costumes, and made it a point to let you know that she was going to remember your name. Clearly that’s not nothing.”
You stared blankly at Rocío who rolled her eyes. “You can’t seriously tell me that you think she isn’t a little bit interested at least.”
You shook your head. “No, I know she is but she’s interested in Rubi, not me. That's an important distinction that you keep choosing to ignore." You scoffed. “And well, if Rubi is the kind of girl she likes, then the real me is certainly not going to catch her attention.”
Rocío waved her hand dismissively. "I think you're being ridiculous.”
"I'm being realistic. " You took a bite of the cold pizza, chewed, swallowed. "Besides, I've seen the kind of girls she goes for. Her ex was really into fitness, like seriously into it, marathons and pilates and all that. While I’m here on the couch with you, eating my third slice of cold pizza.”
Rocío chuckled but shook her head. “Please, I know you have this whole self-deprecation thing going but you literally make money off of how fit you look.”
“That’s different,” you responded. "Anyway, whatever, the point is that I’ve seen her ex and she could not be more different from me."
Rocío was quiet for a moment, and you thought maybe you'd finally managed to close the conversation, until she said slowly, "How do you know all that about her ex?”
You stopped chewing, not answering. Rocío shook her head and pointed an accusatory finger at you.
“You sly woman,” Rocío said with a chuckle. “You totally stalked Alexia and her ex.”
"I wouldn't use the word stalk—"
"You absolute hypocrite," Rocío interrupted, tone delighted. "You sit here telling me that you don’t like that she recognized you, that you don't like her, or that it’s not happening, meanwhile you've stalked her enough to know about her ex going on marathons.”
You shrugged. "I was just curious," you said with a small voice.
"You actually want her," Rocío said simply. "You’ve got an actual, massive crush on Alexia Putellas.”
You put the pizza down and exhaled slowly before rambling. "Fine, okay, I think she's hot and she kissed me so fucking good that I started seeing stars and yeah, I did find it cute that she took the time to greet and talk to Aina a while ago even if she didn’t know her and yes, I kinda think I really like her. Are you happy?" You looked at Rocío but before she could say anything, you went on. "But what exactly am I supposed to do with that? She’s this famous football star and I’m a stripper. If she does like me, it’s lust and nothing more.”
"You don't actually know that," Rocío said, more gently this time, knowing that there were times you had opened up to her about your worries of never finding anyone who could like you for more than just your body.
"I know enough," you said, shrugging. "And even if I didn't, getting closer to her is a risk I can't afford. You know that."
You leaned back into the couch. "Besides, it doesn't matter. She hasn’t shown her face in the club anyway. If there was any interest before, it’s gone now.”
⋆˙⟡♡ You didn’t tell anyone else about how Aina met Alexia, especially not your co-workers at Somni. They had more than enough questions about the last time Alexia visited and you didn’t want to add more to that.
Thankfully, the interest in Alexia died off and most of them left you alone.
“Chiqui,” Adriana said, walking over to you from where you were standing in the dressing, in the middle of wiping off her make-up. “You did well tonight.”
You smiled, taking off your wig and placing it on the wig holders. “Thanks. The new choreography was so fucking hard to learn but I guess I figured it out eventually.”
Adriana hummed, tilting her hair slightly. “Yeah, but to be honest, I still like your old solo better. I think that one was way sexier,” she nodded, and waved her hand like that wasn’t the point. “Anyway, I just came over here to ask you something.”
You paused from changing out of your costume, eager to just get home already. “Yeah?”
Adriana bit her lip, already smiling. “So, Alexia…”
“No, no,” you shook your head at Adriana, in the middle of putting on a tanktop. “I told you it was nothing. She’s just a client.”
Adriana nodded. “Good, cause Lorenzo’s cousin is moving to Barcelona soon and I thought maybe we should go on a double date. All four of us.”
You squinted. “Didn’t you say it was over for you and Lorenzo?”
The girl shook her head dismissively. “Whatever, it’s complicated,” she groaned. “Anyway, are you up for it or not? She’s really cute and very much your type.”
“I don’t know, chica. I mean, I barely have any time and you know how Aina gets when I don’t spend my weekends with her,” you said, trailing off a bit.
“C’mon, YN. It’s been a while since you and I hung out outside of work,” she pleaded. “And Lorenzo’s cousin is really hot too. She’s like… an Italian Alexia Putellas.”
You scoffed. “An Italian Alexia Putellas?”
Adriana rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean – athletic and hot with great abs,” she tried to explain before simply stating again, as if it was a selling point. “An Italian Alexia Putellas.”
You rolled your eyes, putting your costume back onto a rack. “I don’t know why you’d think —”
“You ladies talking about me?”
The voice came from just behind the costume racks. You were startled, instinctively covering yourself even though you were already fully dressed, and turned to find Alexia Putellas standing there looking thoroughly amused.
She was wearing loose jeans and a cropped, black cardigan that exposed a sliver of her stomach. Her brown hair framing her face. She had an amused look on her face, clearly having heard part of your conversation. You and Adriana exchanged a glance.
Right beside her was your club manager. "Alexia's teammate is getting married," Pilar said, cutting straight to it the way she always did. "She stopped by to book a date and thought you'd have some input on the lineup." She looked at you pointedly. "Since you've been here long enough to know what works."
You looked again at Adriana who just gave you a shrug but had a small smile on her face “I, uh… me?” You asked, pointing at yourself. “I don’t… usually…”
"You've been here over half a decade. You'll manage." Pilar was already typing something on her phone. “I’ll leave you two to talk about it.”
She thanked Alexia before walking off, already typing away on her phone like she always did. You stared after her for a moment, then turned back to Alexia, who just gave you a meek smile. You gestured for her to wait as you chased after Pilar whose eyes were still on her phone.
“Pilar,” you said, waiting for her to stop in her tracks, just out of earshot from Alexia. She looked at you, raising an eyebrow. “Pilar, you know I don’t do… client relations.”
Pilar scoffed. “Client relations? What are we – a Fortune 500 company?” She said sarcastically “It’s no big deal. Her teammate is having a bachelorette. All they want is just to see new performances, different from last time. Just string together some new and some old performances and call it a day.”
You paused, nodding. “Can’t I just text you my suggestions? I mean, you usually take care of events like this cause I don’t really have much free time and I gotta go home and take care of—”
“Aina, I know, I know,” she said, nodding understandably. “Look, Alexia requested that you coordinate with her. You specifically. I’m not gonna waste time explaining why that is. You’re smart enough to know why.”
You blinked. “What?”
Pilar tucked her phone under her arm and gave you a look that was almost fond, in her particular way. "YN. The woman is infatuated with you." She said it plainly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm not asking you to do anything complicated. Talk to her, find out what she's looking for, pass it to me and I'll handle the rest. She's paying well. If you help coordinate it, I'll split the managing fee with you."
You went quiet, doing the math without meaning to. Aina's tournament was coming up and you had most of it covered, but new boots would certainly be a great gift to surprise her with.
"Can I go now?" Pilar continued without waiting for your answer. "I've got a situation with the laundry service. Sol's boots came back still smelling like absolute shit and there’s no way I’m paying that much for boots to be coming back still stinking."
You nodded, looking back at Alexia now who was now talking to Adriana, laughing easily at something Adriana said.
“And YN,” Pilar said, drawing your attention back to her. She put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed. "If I were you, I'd just enjoy it."
She walked away, already calling someone as she did. You stood there for another moment, then headed back to Adriana and Alexia.
Alexia turned her attention back to you and gave a smile. “So, are we sorted? Are you up to help me with this bachelorette?”
“YN’s been here as long as I have," Adriana offered cheerfully. "She'll know exactly what to put together."
You nodded slowly. Alexia's gaze stayed on you, unhurried, and she said, "Yeah, she looks like a girl with great taste." Her eyes scanned you before settling back on your face and gave you a crooked smile.
Adriana widened her eyes. She mouthed oh my god at you from just over Alexia's shoulder. “Anyway,” she said out loud. “I’ll leave you to talk. Lorenzo’s picking me up.”
Adriana gave you one last wink before heading back to her station to grab her bag.
You turned to Alexia and you nodded. "Okay, we should probably go over what you're looking for quickly cause I do have to get home soon,” you said. “It is a bit late.”
"Honestly, I mostly took care of it with Pilar already: pencil-booked and paid the deposit." She slid her hands into her pockets, easy about it. "Why don't I drive you home? We can talk about all the preliminary stuff on the way to your place."
You pressed your lips together. The sensible part of you already had a whole list of reasons to say no. First, she was a client. And that you’ve blurred enough lines as it was. Lastly, there was no real benefit to getting entangled with a famous footballer.
But the other part of you was much louder. It was too busy noticing how good she looked and thinking about how much you'd secretly wanted to see her again to even listen to the logical side of you.
You figured you'd spent enough time being sensible.
You gave her a small smile. "Yeah, okay."
⋆˙⟡♡ As soon as you got into Alexia's car, you pulled out your makeup wipes and started scrubbing your face clean, cursing yourself for not doing this sooner.
Alexia glanced over but said nothing. "Let me just input your address," she said, tapping at her GPS.
You stuffed the used wipe into your bag. "I’m kind of regretting giving you my actual address now,” you joked, looking over at her as she input it. “You're not going to turn out to be some crazy axe murderer, right?"
Alexia laughed softly. "Do I look like an axe murderer to you?"
"I genuinely don't know what axe murderers look like," you said. "Maybe they look like you do."
She chuckled, shaking her head, and you settled into an easy quiet before you broke it.
"So… bachelorette party, huh?" you asked.
"Yeah." Alexia's expression warmed, nodding her head. "Our goalkeeper, Cata, just got engaged. She missed Irene's party and had massive FOMO, so I figured I'd put together something for her. It’s gonna be my engagement gift."
You hummed, nodding. "And you want a different lineup of performances?"
Alexia began pulling out of the lot, brow furrowed in thought. "I'm not entirely sure yet. That's why I wanted to talk to you about it."
You hummed, tilting your head, biting your lip. You hesitated before finally saying. "For a second, I thought you were just finding an excuse to see me again."
She smiled at the road. "Hmm, well, seeing you again is a nice bonus."
You went quiet, feeling the blush spread through your cheeks. You bit your lip and looked out the window, trying to hide your pinked face. Alexia noticed and smiled to herself.
"So," Alexia said. "How's Aina?"
You smiled, feeling a bit warm at the mention of Aina, flattered Alexia had remembered her name. If Aina knew, she would be pleased. "She's okay. She still can't stop talking about the game." You nodded. "She wears your captain's armband to sleep, you know."
"That's so cute." She said, pausing before asking. "So, do you two live with your parents?"
You frowned at the mention of your parents. "I thought we were here to talk about the bachelorette." You said simply.
"You look tired," she said easily, shrugging one shoulder. "Work stuff can wait. Let’s just chat, get to know each other."
You hummed, pausing before shaking your head. “No, we don’t live with our parents.”
“Why is that?” She asked, eyes still on the road.
“Oh, uh, they passed.” You said simply, looking down into your hands. No matter how long it’s been, talking about your parents. It never got easy.
“I’m sorry,” Alexia said, the car coming to a halt as you reached a stop light, she looked over to you, eyes sincere. “I had no idea.”
You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, it’s been years anyway,” You said, brushing it off. “So, yeah, it’s just me, Aina, and well, my roommate. We’re kinda like a small family.”
Alexia nodded. “Oh,” she said with a tone you could not decipher. “That’s good. So, uh, how long have you been with your roommate?”
"It’s been a while since she moved in with us," you responded, not catching what Alexia meant. "Honestly, she's been with us since I was twenty. So, I really can't imagine not having her around."
Alexia nodded slowly. The car went silent for a moment, except for the sound from Alexia’s GPS. She hesitated before asking. “So, doesn’t she get jealous? Like, considering what you do for work?”
You frowned, pausing before looking over at Alexia in confusion. “Why would she be jealous…”
Then it clicked. You looked at her, and the realization broke across your face in a smile you couldn't help. "Oh, you’re fishing," you said. "You are absolutely fishing right now."
"I'm just asking," Alexia said, trying to look casual and nonchalant about it but you could tell she was bluffing.
"You're trying to find out if I'm single." You said, just making it clear.
"...and what if I am?" Alexia responded, a smile growing on her face.
You laughed, shaking your head. For one, there was no way in hell you and Rocío could ever date; you were practically sisters at this point. Secondly, the fact that Alexia Putellas seemed a bit jealous for a moment….
"Alexia. I wouldn't have kissed you if I wasn't." The words left your mouth before you could think better of it. You felt your face go hot but you didn’t take it back. You really didn’t want to bring up the kiss and yet your mouth got the best of you.
Alexia glanced at you, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and you quickly looked away.
"Well," she responded, tone light. "I thought maybe that's why you ran off so fast."
You sighed and shook your head. "No. No, that's not…" you exhaled, trying to get your thoughts straight before responding again. "Alexia, I don't usually do that with clients. I mean — I've never done that with a client. I should have been more professional. I don't know what I was thinking."
"Hey." Her voice was easy, looking over at you. “Relax."
You stopped, biting your lip. She turned to look at you at the red light, and her expression was warm and sincere. "It was nice," she said simply.
You held her gaze, taking the moment for what it was. Looking at her, face illuminated by the street lights and the faint red of the stoplight, accentuating her features. You cherished it: a girl driving you home, telling you she liked kissing you, making you feel giddy in ways you haven’t felt in such a long time. You wanted to hold it a little longer.
Unfortunately, your stomach growled and ruined the moment..
You covered your face with both hands. "Oh my god,” you said, embarrassment rushing through you. “That was not — that was not a fart, I need you to know that."
Alexia bursted out laughing, so much so that she almost didn’t notice that the stoplight had gone green. As she calmed down, she said, “Chica, you didn’t tell me you were hungry.”
You just realized that you hadn't actually eaten anything since noon, when you and Rocío split a sad little sandwich at the café before your shift. You meant to grab something before your shift at Somni but it must have slipped your mind.
Your stomach offered another confirmatory rumble.
Alexia tutted her tongue. "That's it. I'm not taking you home like this." She was already signaling to change lanes, going the opposite direction from what was directed in the GPS. "There's a place I know that's still open. Come on, my treat."
"I have to be up early," you said, waving your hands to gesture refusal "I still have to prepare Aina's breakfast —"
"I'll buy enough so you don't have to cook in the morning." She glanced at you, easy, like it was already settled. "You can't go to sleep on an empty stomach."
You looked at her biting your lip before letting yourself smile. There was just something so attractive about a girl who wanted to be with you so much that she’d find a solution to your excuse. You deserved to revel in it for a moment so you nodded and leaned back into your seat.
"Okay," you said. "Let's go."
⋆˙⟡♡ You moaned embarrassingly loud at the first bite of the fried chicken.
Alexia grinned across from you, her own wing already half-eaten. "Right?"
"This is so fucking good," you said, still chewing, covering your mouth with your hand.
"I know." She reached for a napkin, looking genuinely pleased with herself. "My nutritionist is gonna kill me if she finds out I’m eating fried chicken past midnight in the middle of a season.”
The place was small and loud, wedged between two clubs, full of drunk people who were too drunk out of their minds to notice that Alexia Putellas was sitting in the corner at 1 in the morning, splitting a plate of chicken wings with some random girl.
You looked at her and thought about how absurd it was seeing her like this. The whole La Reina thing had always seemed like football hyperbole to you until you saw her like this, in an ordinary place, and understood that it wasn't really just about football at all. She had an almost regal aura, the type that just exuded effortless confidence. It didn’t feel like she belonged here.
She caught you looking. "What?"
"Nothing." You dropped your gaze back to your food. "I just didn't picture you as a fried chicken at one in the morning kind of person."
“Oh trust me, I’m not usually. I typically stick to a diet plan from my nutritionist.” She leaned back slightly, amused, tilting her head to the side. "But what did you picture I was like?"
You thought about it genuinely for a second. "I don't know. You seem like the person who only wines and dines,” you answered. “You know, steak, halibut, filet mignon.”
She fully laughed, her laugh melodic. “Filet mignon? I look like I only eat filet mignon?”
You couldn’t help but smile but still rolled your eyes. “I meant… it just seems uncharacteristic of you to be into fast food. At least from what I hear about you.”
“From what you hear about me huh,” she said, raising both eyebrows, face amused. “And what have you heard?”
You just gave her a shrug and continued to eat your chicken, afraid to accidentally slip and reveal that you have been secretly stalking her online since the first time you met. You didn’t want the fact that you did have a crush on her to get to her head.
“Well, I guess you’d learn there are a lot of things about me that might surprise you.” She said, a smile playing on her face as she took a sip of her water.
"Yeah? Like you regularly take strippers out on fried chicken dates?" You responded quickly.
She nearly choked. You watched her grab a napkin, pressing it to her mouth, shoulders shaking even as she tried to compose herself. She chuckled, coughs coming out as she did. She shook her head. “I mean, I don’t but….” She coughed a bit more, making you chuckle to yourself. As soon as she calmed down, she exhaled and gave you a look, eyes slightly squinted. “Wait, so, this is a date?”
You could feel yourself blush, ashamed at the fact that you said that, but you just tried to play it cool, just giving the Catalan another shrug.
She shook her head slowly, still smiling to herself. "You can call it a date," she nodded. "If you want to."
You put down the chicken wing you had been munching on onto the paper tray before grabbing a paper towel to wipe the sauce off of your hands. You sighed, shaking your head. "I don't think I want my first date in years to be me in an old, ratty tank top at a fried chicken shop full of drunk people."
Alexia’s eyes widened, in disbelief. "Years?"
You scoffed but felt a bit embarrassed. "I'm busy, okay?" You reached for your water. "I have a little sister and two jobs. You try living my life and let’s see if you’ve got time to date.”
Alexia held her hands up in surrender but she was still smiling, and you looked away feeling your energy shift a bit, suddenly feeling out-of-place. She must have noticed your expression because her face grew serious, straightening up her posture.
“Well, you know,” she started, tone careful. “If I were to actually date you, I’d take you somewhere more special, not some small chicken shop. If you’d let me, I’d love to—”
“It’s getting late,” you interrupted, nodding and avoiding her gaze. As much as you enjoyed tonight, how you were able to get to know her more, you knew that hoping for anything more than this was foolish.
This wasn't going anywhere real. Not beyond this booth and this chicken and whatever had already happened between you. The distance between your lives wasn't the kind of thing you could close just by wanting to.
When you finally checked your phone, you sighed, seeing that it actually was way too late. "I really have to go."
Her face dropped but she just nodded. “Yeah, okay,” she said, nodding. “I’ll just order something for Aina then we can go.”
You crossed your arms and nodded, giving her a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.
⋆˙⟡♡ Rocío headed to the moka pot, pouring herself a cup of coffee, looking curiously at you as you took out the reheated chicken from the air fryer. She furrowed her eyebrows together. "Fried chicken for breakfast?" Rocío asked.
"Complaining?" you said, moving past her to the fridge.
"No, just surprised." She turned to watch you, brown hair in a bun that bounced slightly as she walked towards you. "Good tips last night, I assume?"
You grabbed the orange juice and poured yourself a glass. "You could say that." You said with a suggestive tone.
She frowned and opened her mouth as if to say something but Aina came padding out of her room, hair still damp and unbrushed, nose already sniffing about. She stopped in the middle of the kitchen and looked at you.
"Do I smell chicken?” She asked.
You nodded. “Yeah, come, have some, I just heated the chicken up.” You smiled. “I packed you some for lunch too.”
Aina beamed, giddily getting into her chair, grabbing one with her tiny hands. “I thought you didn’t want me eating too much unhealthy food,” she said, sauce all over her mouth.
You smiled. “I had some last night after work and thought it’d be unfair if you didn’t have any.” You responded.
Rocío looked at you over the top of Aina's head with an expression that communicated that you were going to sit down and tell her everything the moment that child was out of earshot. You took a long sip of your orange juice and gave her a small smirk without saying anything at all, which she understood to mean she was completely right.
⋆˙⟡♡ You weren't supposed to be here today.
You had Mondays off and you usually spent your free day either catching up on sleep or treating yourself to a self-date or even a massage, if you had the money. Instead, you were coming to Somni to have a client meeting with Alexia.
Not that you had any complaints. You were going to get paid to plan and well, being around Alexia never really was all that bad. So, when Alexia asked if she could come over to continue planning, you didn’t hesitate too much.
The club was in its pre-shift chaos when Alexia arrived, walking up to you in your area where you were lazily scrolling through your phone and sipping on your coffee. To Alexia, the sight of you was a sharp contrast to everyone else who was moving in every direction, zipping each other up in costumes, gluing lashes and having multiple, overlapping conversations.
“Girlfriend alert,” Sol blurted out as she passed by your station, borrowing your setting spray without even asking.
You looked up from your phone to see Alexia walking towards you, dressed in a sleeveless black top and baggy jeans sitting low on her hips, waist showing and arms bare. Two of your coworkers noticed her before you could even get to her and you caught your co-worker’s looks as you did. You were going to hear about this later.
She smiled, then let her eyes drift around the room, taking it in. "Gets busy here, huh?"
"That was why I asked you to meet earlier," you said, and then immediately softened it because you hadn't meant it to come out quite that way. "It gets hectic here at this time."
"Yeah, but I really couldn’t meet any earlier. I had crazy meetings," She said with a shrug. Her eyes scanned you as she said it.
You were out-of-costume today but you were slightly made-up today. You were wearing a strappy, black top and jeans. You didn’t have much product on your face since on your days off, you liked to let your skin breathe but you did have some tinted moisturizer and a light lip gloss.
Alexia smiled, thinking to herself that she liked this version of you more. "We kinda match," She said instead, gesturing towards your outfits. “That’s cute.”
You chose not to engage with that particular observation but that didn’t make you blush any less. "Uh, I think we should go to the private room," you said, gesturing to the private rooms. "We're not going to get anything done out here with all this happening."
She nodded and let you lead the way.
⋆˙⟡♡ You headed to the same room you were in before. You pushed the door open and crossed to the light panel on the wall, turning on only the fluorescents instead of the red lights. You didn’t want to create too much ambience like you did last time.
Alexia closed the door from behind her. You settled onto the couch and pulled up your notes app, waiting for Alexia to sit next to you. Instead, she drifted toward the costume racks, fingers trailing along hangers, carefully looking through the clothes.
You just let her explore, figuring it’d be less unnerving than with her sitting next to you, hazel eyes gazing at you as she did.
"Tell me about Cata," you said. "What does she like, music-wise? What kind of energy is she?"
"Uh, well, upbeat?" Alexia said, still moving along the rack, not looking at you. "I know she likes reggaeton, pop. Y’know, energetic music." She paused somewhere in the middle and her hand stopped moving, and then she turned around holding the Little Bo Peep costume out in front of her on its hanger, apron and crook and all. Her face beamed with amusement "Please tell me this is yours."
"No way. That was Sol’s," you said, waving the costume off dismissively before continuing in your questioning. "So... Cata likes upbeat, maybe something more dance-heavy. Would you want it to stay mostly in that lane or would you want a mix of different styles, because I was thinking of pulling in one of Sol's other pieces, there's this burlesque number she does with a giant martini glass. It’s very theatrical and classic but I do think it costs a bit more, given all the work that goes into it.”
"A mix sounds good," Alexia said, barely paying attention as she returned the costume to the rack. "Whatever you think works. Keep your solo in though. I liked it."
You made a note. She was already moving further down the rack. You watched her for a second before looking back at your phone.
A sound escaped Alexia’s lips, something that sounded a lot like delight, like she found something interesting. You looked up and she was holding out a blaugrana bikini top and tiny matching shorts, clearly a nod to Barça. "Did you–”
"Absolutely not,” you responded, interrupting her. “One of the retired girls wore that. It was from when I was new and before Pilar took over. The old director thought sexy and vulgar were the same thing. That whole performance involved sitting on giant footballs and making sex faces. I don’t think anyone liked the idea except him?”
Alexia laughed, shaking her head at the ridiculous idea. You smiled but tried not to get yourself too carried away from the planning.
"Have you worn any of these?" she asked, still at the rack.
You looked up at Alexia who was already anticipating your answer. She pouted a bit and raised her eyebrows. “C’mon, YN. Indulge me,” she said.
You couldn’t help the smile on your face. You looked down on your phone before rolling your eyes, standing up with a groan. “Fine, just cause you asked nicely.”
You walked towards the other rack beside it. You didn’t have to look for too long because it was immediately apparent what it was. You pulled it off of the hanger and showed it to Alexia
It was a neon pink, high-cut one-piece with ankle warmers tucked into the inner part of the hanger. It looked exactly as bad as you remembered.
Alexia stared at it, looking amused and full of disbelief. "That's an eighties workout instructor outfit."
"Well, It was an eighties workout themed dance," you said, sighing. "My first solo piece. I want you to know that I genuinely almost quit after my first performance. It was so, so bad.”
"Pilar took over shortly after and retired the whole concept immediately." You put the costume back on its hanger, which was where it belonged, in the past with the rest of that era. "She had an actual vision. The old director just had a permanent boner and no taste."
Alexia laughed but then went quiet. You were half-way back to the couch when you heard Alexia hum. You looked back at her, seeing a small smirk on her face, eyes looking at you with a look you couldn’t figure out.
You tilted her head at her, waiting for her to say what she wanted to say.
"I want to see you in it," she said finally.
You shook your head and put a hand up at her. "No,” you said with finality. “Absolutely not.”
"Just to see what it looks like,” she asked again. “Please?”
"You're looking at it right now." You gestured towards the hanger. “You put it on if you want.”
She bit the inside of her lower lip and the pout resurfaced, eyes pleading. "It's for the bachelorette," she tried. "I need a full sense of what you can do."
You gave her a frown. "That doesn't follow logically."
She just looked at you with a pleading look. You looked away and shook your head, mostly in disbelief with yourself that for a second, you almost let a thirty year old giving you puppy dog eyes convince you to wear that.
"It probably won't even fit the same," you commented.. "I was like twenty when I last wore it."
Alexia shrugged. “I mean, you won’t find out if you don’t try.”
You looked at her and she just looked back at you, already waiting. Something told you that you weren’t going to get any planning done tonight if you didn’t give in to this one request.
You groaned.
"Fine," you said. "But you have to agree to actually plan after I try it on.”
Alexia nodded. “Of course, of course, this is all just part of it.
⋆˙⟡♡ The outfit fit better than you expected and now that your body had grown more mature, it looked even better than before: tighter across the chest and fuller through the hips. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror before adjusting your hair slightly.
You bit your lip, thankful that you looked pretty good because part of you was worried that you’d look ridiculous, and ridiculous was the last thing you wanted to look like around Alexia Putellas.
You pulled back the curtain from the make-shift changing area and immediately saw Alexia who was now sitting on the seat in front of the stage, sitting forward to face you, alert in a way that was so genuine that it almost made you laugh.
When she saw you, her whole face beamed and she smiled, eyes taking you in as she did.
"Okay," you said, crossing your arms. "You've seen it. Can I change back now?"
Alexia stood up. “No!” She said, taking a step towards you. “I want to see your dance.”
"I don't remember the dance,” you lied, shaking your head
Alexia shrugged. “Then just show me what you remember."
You shifted your weight, suddenly self-conscious and shy. "I don't have the music either."
Alexia chuckled before walking towards you, gently taking your hand and guiding you to the stage. “I have a good imagination,” she shared as if to convince you. “I’ll fill it in.”
You stood there on the stage and looked at her and thought about all the perfectly reasonable things you could say next, all the ways you could redirect this back toward the planning you were supposed to be doing, and then you thought about the fact that it was your day off and you had come in anyway and she was sitting there looking at you like you were the most interesting thing in the room without apparently trying to, and you thought, fine.
No harm in letting yourself have fun.
“Uh, I guess, there was some of this,” you said, starting off the choreography.
You did a power-pose before continuing the bits that you remembered. It was awfully a lot like those old workout shows except with way more bending over, squats and rolling your hips. Back then, you felt so grossed out every time you were performing it but now, with Alexia, you were kind of enjoying doing parts of the dance as you narrated.
"This part," you said, demonstrating a sequence of counted squats paired with a hip thrust on each beat. "I remember clearly that this was the part that got the most applause"
Alexia tried not to laugh, biting her lip. You pointed at her. “I’m serious,” you said, still laughing. “It was a banger.”
Alexia finally let herself laugh, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all. “There’s absolutely no way that this is the actual performance.”
You stopped and gestured at her. “Exactly!” You exclaimed. “I’m telling you. The old Somni just did a bunch of horny bullshit.”
Alexia continued to laugh. You smiled and stepped off the stage and talked directly to her chair, holding out your hand. "Yeah, you're doing this with me,” you urged. “You made me wear this. It’s the least you can do.”
She shook her head and yet allowed you to drag her on stage with you. "I don't know any of it."
“Just think that I’m those instructor ladies and follow,” you said, putting your hands on your hips.
Alexia sighed, shaking her head but she smoothened her jeans before she got into the same position as you. You instructed her to spread her legs wide before telling her to follow your steps. Alexia did it with some self-consciousness and hesitation.
“Don’t think too much about it,” you reprimanded. “Just try it.”
"Okay, okay, I’m trying.” She said, chuckling. “It’s not exactly easy to do this in jeans.”
“Wanna switch outfits?” You joked.
“Sounds like a threat,” she quipped back jokingly.
You nodded. “It absolutely is. Now, lock in.”
Alexia followed along, struggling to keep up but you made her do all the squats and high kicks anyway. In the middle of it all, there was more laughing than dancing. You stumbled through it but by the time you got to the squats so deep that your bum touched the floor, Alexia was laughing so hard that she was inconsolable, clutching her stomach as she knelt on the stage.
You eventually gave up, sitting beside her, laughing together at the ridiculousness of it all. At this point, you two were too tired and out-of-it to even continue planning.
And yet, you couldn't make yourself care about it even a little bit.
⋆˙⟡♡ The planning sessions happened more often.
You were seeing Alexia almost every other day, talking and laughing the entire night, barely getting any planning done which gave both of you an excuse to keep seeing each other to actually “plan.”
But you didn’t really mind. Hanging out with Alexia made going to work so much more enjoyable, even if it meant going home later and feeling more physically tired the next morning.
All of it seemed worth it because every morning after those late-night sessions, you would wake up with an easier feeling. You seemed to have a much lighter disposition too.
You didn’t bother telling Rocío too much about it. You didn’t need her further feeding into your delusions. The last thing you wanted was to be carried away, and actually let yourself get too invested with Alexia. For now, it was light and fun, nothing too serious. Just like you intended it.
And it worked out pretty well. You managed to keep it a secret and to convince Rocío that the reason why you were coming home late was because of some new promo Somni was doing. Rocío somehow bought it.
Which was why it was so shocking when Aina seemed to notice it before Rocío could even grow suspicious.
On your day off, while you were preparing dinner, Aina watched as you hummed along to the song playing on the speakers. She tilted her head, trying to make sure she was seeing and hearing you right.
“YN,” she called over from her seat on the dining table.
You looked over to her, raising your eyebrows inquisitively. She paused, hesitating for a while as if she wasn’t sure how to ask, before continuing. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Rocío, who was setting up the table, let out a snort once she heard Aina’s question. You let out a nervous chuckle as you fully turned your body to completely face her, eyebrows furrowed. “Seeing anyone? Why would you think that, Nana?”
You turned back to the tomatoes, shaking your head, hiding the fact that your face was starting to grow pink. From her seat, Aina continued to just look at you, barely paying attention to the video playing on her iPad. She shrugged. “You seem happy lately.”
You kept your eyes on the food. "What? But I'm always happy,” you tried to sound convincing but even you knew that you weren’t selling it.
"No, I mean like." She said, explaining as she pushed the stray hair from her face. "You’re like a different happy."
"Nothing's different,” you responded with a lighthearted tone. “Maybe I’m just excited for you to taste this pasta I’m cooking.”
Aina hummed, not buying it. You turned to check her reaction. She was looking up, as if thinking to herself. Rocío gave you an amused smile, now incredibly intrigued with the topic, looking at you with an expression of disbelief.
“No, cause you’ve also been coming home later,” she said. “When I wake up in the middle of the night to go to you, you’re usually in bed already. But lately, you don’t get home until even much later.”
Rocío chuckled. “You’ve got a point, Nana.”
Aina nodded, looking validated. “And the other night, YN, I was pretending to be asleep beside you when I heard you giggling while looking at your phone,” she said more accusatorily. “And I’m sure you weren’t just looking at memes.”
You sighed, trying to think quickly, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. "I… have new friends at work. One of them sent me a funny photo,” you lied.
Aina squinted, still not buying it. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you had a girlfriend. It’d actually be nice for you to have some romance in your life.”
At this point, Rocío was fully laughing at the sound of the little girl talking so maturely. Aina looked over to her then at you, shrugging as if she didn’t understand why you two were laughing at her. “I’m serious,” she commented, frowning and shaking her head. “I might get a partner before you do at this point, YN,” she looked pointedly at Rocío. “You too, Rocío.”
You and Rocío exchanged glances, as if you couldn’t believe what Nana was saying.
You chuckled, thinking that you certainly had to be more careful around your sister now.
⋆˙⟡♡ You smiled to yourself as you read Alexia’s text after that night’s performance. She instructed you to wait for her in the private room, which was now becoming your regular space.
You changed out of your costume hurriedly and headed to the room, waiting patiently as you sat on the stage where you two usually liked to sit. Alexia showed up soon after, carrying a heavy-looking totebag, bearing a smile already.
You smiled at her, feeling your heart flutter as she flashed her smile at you. Alexia was so good-looking that you weren’t sure when you would get used to it. Weeks later and she was still giving you butterflies just by smiling at you.
“Took you long enough,” you jokingly said.
She shrugged. “Sorry, I had to get something from the car before I headed here.”
You raised your eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.
She stopped in front of you before grabbing a bottle of wine from her tote bag. “Thought we could do some wine tasting,” she handed it to you before taking another one out of the bag. “I figured out you could help me decide which wine we should have for Cata’s bachelorette.”
You looked at the bottle then back at her and the giddy look on her face. “Pretty sure wine tasting requires more than two bottles," you said to Alexia who was now sitting beside you on the stage. “You just wanna drink, don’t you?”
“And you don’t?” Alexia counterd
You chuckled. “Never said that.”
Alexia chuckled, pulling out two flimsy-looking, plastic wine glasses out of her tote bag and a wine opener. She smiled and took the wine bottle from your hand, opening it up and pouring you both a glass.
You took yours from her. “Plastic wine glasses?” you said as you made a face at her before taking a sip of the wine.
She rolled her eyes. “Awful lot of complaints from a girl who's drinking 200-euro wine for free.”
You stopped drinking, shaking your head. “200 euros? What business do we have drinking wine that costs that much while on the floor of a strip club?”
She gave you a shrug and a chuckle. “I told you – wine tasting.” She gestured for you to clink glasses. “Salut.”
“Salut,” you said with a small smile, clinking with Alexia before taking another sip, finally able to appreciate it more now. “Mmm, smooth.”
Alexia nodded before grabbing the other bottle and opening it up. “Guess how much this one cost.”
You glanced at the bottle, seeing a familiar label, chuckling to yourself. “Oh I know a 7-euro bottle when I see one,” you smiled. “I’ve finished one of those all by myself several times before.”
Alexia smiled. “Then consider this a reunion between old friends.”
After you finished your glass, she refilled it with the cheaper wine. You swirled it around your glass, mimicking an actual wine taster, sniffing it before drinking it, smacking your lips pretentiously. “Ahhh, yes, tastes like supermarket wine.”
Alexia took a sip of hers and shook her head. “Personally, I don’t think I can tell that much of a difference,” she commented.
“Maybe that’s because the 200-euro one is something you’re used to,” you responded. “I can definitely taste the difference.”
Alexia shrugged. “I like it better with some Pepsi anyway.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes before trying to finish the wine from your glass just so you could taste more of the expensive one. It wasn’t everyday you could enjoy good wine with a gorgeous footballer.
Alexia took one more sip of hers, eyes fixed on you, before asking. “So, why don’t we make this wine tasting a bit more interesting?”
You hummed. “Hmm, are you gonna tell me you got some tapas hidden in that bag too?”
Alexia laughed. “Unfortunately not,” she said. “I meant… maybe we should get to know each other. Ask questions while we drink.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t we been doing that? I don’t think we’ve planned anything in the last few meetings we’ve had just because all we’ve done is get to know each other.”
She shrugged. “Not enough. All you talk about is work.”
You hummed, thinking as you sipped on your wine. “Okay, let’s do it only if we’re back to business next session. No more impromptu dance sessions and wine tastings.”
Alexia chuckled. “Yeah, promise.”
⋆˙⟡♡ The rules to Alexia’s drinking game were simple. You asked each other questions and if you didn't want to answer you drank instead without having to explain.
It started light. She asked you about your best and worst experiences working at Somni, about how you ended up here. She asked about Aina, how it felt like raising her, and how you met Rocío. On the other hand, you asked her about if all the fame and accolades got to her head. You asked about dealing with fans, the pressure of football.
But after you were halfway through both wine bottles, the questions got more personal and intimate, forcing you two to even drink more too.
Alexia hummed, an expression on her face that told you she was about to ask something scandalous. “Hmm, have you ever felt yourself get aroused while performing for a client?”
You hummed, making her wait for the answer. “I guess you can say that,” you responded, not wanting to drink. Alexia waited for you to elaborate but you waved her off. “You only asked if I had been and not how it was like.”
Alexia bit her lip, eyes heavy with inebriation and playful look on her face. At this point, she was resting on the stage, partially laying down and propping herself up with her hand by her side. “I have a good guess as to who though.” She said with a wink.
You rolled your eyes. “You’re too conceited.”
Alexia just chuckled. “Okay, your turn.”
You hummed, thinking your question through. You looked at Alexia, who was anticipating your question. You moved your head closer to her. "Is there actually a bachelorette or is it mostly just an excuse to come see me?"
Alexia’s smile dropped for a moment before it came back, a bit shyer. She chuckled as she looked down at her glass, just briefly, and then back at you.
"I mean, there is a bachelorette,” she paused. “But… the planning is mostly bullshit.”
You chuckled. Alexia bit her lip. “Is that embarrassing to admit?" she asked, blush spreading across her face. You held the answer and sat with it for a second. Then you picked up your glass and drank.
Alexia widened her eyes, realizing she had wasted her question. “No, no fair,” she said. “You knew that wasn’t an actual question.”
You gave her a coy smile and a shrug. “Sounded like an actual question to me,” you chuckled. “My turn again.”
Alexia sighed, rolled her eyes but gestured for you to go on.
You looked at her. The wine was sitting warm in you and you were suddenly aware of how close she was and of the way she was looking at you. You smiled at her before looking away again.
You paused before you finally asked. "Why didn't you just ask me out?" you asked. "Instead of making up this whole elaborate reason to see me."
Alexia looked at you for a moment before looking away again, shifting her focus on the wine glass. She swirled it around a couple of times. "Well, if I did," she said, pausing to lock eyes with you. "Would you have said yes?"
You held her gaze for just a moment, looking between both her eyes as she looked at you with a sincerity that could not be faked. You smirked at her before finally raising your glass to your lips, taking another sip.
Alexia exhaled a short disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. "That's not fair. This really is not fair.”
“You gotta learn your lesson, Putellas.” you teased.
“I’m drunk,” she reasoned out, pouting. “It’s hard to keep up with this game, okay?”
“You made it!” You countered.
Alexia huffed. “Well, I still hate it.”
You laughed at her. “Okay, my turn again.”
Alexia sighed and waited.
You leaned in closer to her, making her wait for the question. "Is it obvious…" you started. She turned to look at you, waiting, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. You smirked before continuing. "Is it obvious that I want to kiss you right now?"
Alexia’s eyebrow raised a bit, smiling to herself. She held your gaze before putting down her glass then taking yours, setting it aside with hers. Then she just looked at you, biting her lip.
“Well?” you prodded. “Is it —”
Suddenly, Alexia grabbed your face, capturing your lips with hers. She moved closer to you and you let her, holding onto her shoulders now. Alexia snaked her arm around your waist, gently laying you down onto the hardwood stage as she made her way on top of you, parting your legs so that she could slot herself between it.
Her kiss wasn’t tentative at all. You could feel it: all the tension from the last meetings you’ve had in this room, the fact that neither of you acknowledged in detail what happened between you two before. It felt like she was holding onto it for so long and was letting all of it out now.
Alexia’s left hand found its way under your shirt, gripping your waist with a firmness that felt almost possessive. You felt her tongue swipe against your lips, waiting for you to part her lips more as her tongue entered it. You moaned as she deepened the kiss, arching your back into her.
You pressed your tongue firmly against hers, following her lead. Alexia’s moan vibrated in your mouth. Alexia’s lips gave yours one last peck before she pressed one on the cheek beside it, then your jaw, then your neck. A sharp inhale left your mouth as you felt her mouth form a suction on your neck, kissing it in a way you were certain would leave a mark.
You wrapped your arms around her, overwhelmed with pleasure. Alexia put both her hands behind you before swiftly and effortlessly lifting you up and smoothly changing your positions so that you were straddling her lap.
Her hands now settled on your hip, just above your denim shorts, gripping tightly before guiding your hips to grind against her lap. Alexia continued to kiss your neck as you did, a string of soft moans escaping your mouth.
You began to move your hips on your own, settling nicely with one of her thighs slotted in between your legs. You continued to grind against her, biting your lip and tilting your head back in pleasure. Alexia’s hands now moved to the bottom of your tank top, pulling it upward to take it off, leaving you completely topless.
“No bra,” Alexia hummed it against your neck, not as a question, more as a statement. She pulled away to look at you, to take in the sight of you, pupils practically blown out at this point. “You’re so gorgeous.”
Before you could react, her hands were on your body as she captured your breasts with her mouth. You moaned louder at the sensation of her warm mouth on your nipple, continuing to grind against her as you felt her tongue move against it, moving in circles before flicking it up and down.
You felt her bite at it lightly, eliciting a louder reaction from you, before wrapping her mouth once more around it. Alexia’s other hand moved onto your other boob, squeezing it against her hand before rolling your nipples with her hands, pinching lightly at it to mimic what she was doing with her mouth.
You were so overwhelmed by the sensation and the feeling of Alexia pleasuring your chest that it took you over a minute to realize that your phone was ringing. You frowned to yourself at first, thinking about what was making that annoying sound, before finally realizing that it was your phone.
Your eyes opened quickly, tapping Alexia to stop, getting up so fast that the room tilted a bit as you did. You grabbed your top from the stage floor, haphazardly covering yourself up with it, as you crossed the room quickly, rummaging through your bag to get your phone.
You cursed once you saw the time on the blindingly bright screen. It was almost 5 am – the time you typically woke up to prepare for Aina’s day. Rocío was calling.
“Hola? Yeah, is Aina okay?” You said, clutching the top closely to your chest.
“Yeah, she isn’t up yet,” Rocío said in a hushed but concerned voice. “Where are you? I woke up and you still weren’t here.”
You bit your lip and looked over at Alexia who was looking at you from the stage, looking equally frazzled. “I, uh —” You stumbled for a reason. “I was with a client.”
Rocío went silent. “It’s Alexia, isn’t it?” She asked.
“Well,” you said, nervously bringing your thumb to your mouth, slightly nipping at the nail.
“So, Aina was right,” Rocío said, tone pleased but also accusatory. “God, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me. I hate you, ugh, but whatever, that’s besides the point. Aina’s gonna wake up soon and I don’t know how to explain to her why you’re not home yet at this time.”
“Uh, just tell her I went on a run,” you responded as you struggled to singlehandedly put your top back on.
“A run.” Rocío deadpanned.
“I don’t know, Rocío, but I’ll be there soon. Just take care of it before I get there,” You said, hurriedly grabbing your stuff, slinging the bag on your shoulder before hanging up.
You turned to Alexia. “I, uh, I gotta go.”
She didn't argue. She was already reaching for her phone. "Clearly, I can’t drive us but I can book an Uber. I'm taking you home."
"You don't have to do that, I can book it myself.” You said, scrolling through your app lists.
"You're not getting a cab at four in the morning by yourself." She said it plainly, not like a discussion. "I’m gonna make sure you get home safe."
⋆˙⟡♡ You sat beside Alexia in the back of the car with her jacket pulled around you, watching the blocks go past, neither of you talking.
She was warm beside you, her arm against yours. She was looking straight ahead, watching the street.
When the car pulled up outside your building she got out with you, which you hadn't expected. You thought she was literally just going to drop you off. Instead, she shut the door behind her as the Uber drove off.
“How are you getting home?”
She shrugged casually, both hands in her pockets. “I can just get another Uber.”
You nodded, biting your lip as you stood facing each other on the sidewalk in front of your place, feeling the cold morning air nip at your exposed cheeks.
"I should go up," you said as you took her jacket off, handing it back to her.
She nodded as she took it from you, not moving yet. She gave you a small smile and an expression you could not read. "Say hi to Aina for me,” she said.
You looked at her flatly. "I will absolutely not be doing that,” you responded. “She has no clue you and I are… hanging out. And if she finds out, I doubt I’ll ever hear the end of it.”
Alexia laughed. "Fair point."
After the chuckles dissipated, you both just stood there for a moment longer, as if neither of you knew what to say at this point. You crossed your arms, starting to feel more of the cold against your skin without her jacket. You watched a car pass on the street behind her before awkwardly looking down on your feet, trying to piece your words together as you did, still feeling a bit light-headed from the wine.
"Look," you started, trying to sound firm and serious. "I like this. All of this, the last few weeks, I've liked it more than I probably should have let myself." You nodded, watching Alexia’s expression.
You sighed, looking away again, feeling uneasy with the way those hazel eyes looked at you so earnestly. "But I have a life that I actually have to be present for,” you continued. “I have Aina; she relies on me. I can't just lose track of time because I'm having a good night and roll through the door at four in the morning like I don't have anyone counting on me. I'm not in a position to be careless about it."
You stopped. You hadn't entirely meant to say that much. But now, it was out there and you felt slightly exposed by it. You nodded, almost to yourself, as if urging you to get it done and over with.
“And quite frankly, I can’t keep playing flirty event planner anymore. I really enjoy it – I promise I do – but I don’t think it’s good for either of us to keep up this illusion that this is going somewhere,” you said, exhaling as you locked eyes with her again. “I just need you to understand that,"
Alexia was quiet for a moment. She hadn't looked away from you and there was nothing defensive or hurt in her expression. She looked like she was actually listening to what you were saying and taking it in, trying to understand your situation.
After a moment, she nodded. "I understand," she said.
You looked at her and nodded. "Good."
She gave you a small shrug then a small smile. "So then let's do it properly."
You frowned. “What?”
"No more showing up after your shift when it's already late. No more pretending the bachelorette is the point when we both know it's not." She said it calmly, like she'd been thinking about it too. "Let me take you out on a real date. I'll pick you up, we'll have a proper night, and I'll have you home before the clock strikes midnight.” She chuckled at her own joke.
You bit your lip, certainly not expecting Alexia to actually ask you out. You had said to yourself that you weren’t going to let yourself get too deep into this thing with Alexia, that you were going to keep your walls up and your boundaries clear. And yet, as she said those words, you felt an immense wave of relief, as if your subconscious had been waiting for her to ask you that.
"A real date," you said, almost to yourself as if just to hear it.
"A real date," she confirmed.
You stood there on the pavement outside your building, the wine mostly worn off now, the morning quiet enough that you could hear yourself think.
You looked at Alexia again, taking the look of her in, and just how different she looked now. You noticed how the early morning made her hair look lighter, how she looked softer at this hour, how her eyes had a different glean to them.
You were used to seeing Alexia in the dark of the club, to seeing her as a client and to keep that line between you clearly drawn. And yet here she was – standing outside with you in the early morning, looking at you with the most genuine expression you had seen. You were, quite literally, seeing her in a different light.
And something about it was making it harder for you to stop yourself from giving in.
"Okay," you said quietly. "I'd like that."
The smile that crossed her face was small, almost private and restrained, as if she was trying hard not to react too much. "Good," she said with a nod. “That’s good.”
You felt your own smile grow on your face before you could stop it. You looked down at the pavement for a moment because looking at her again. "Good," you said back.
You stood facing each other awkwardly, not moving or saying anything for a moment. You laughed first, feeling a mixture of giddy and awkward at the situation. She caught it and smiled again, wider this time.
"I’ll text you the details," she said with a smile. “But for now, maybe you should get to your sister.”
You nodded. “Yeah,” you said as you took a couple steps back toward your building, biting your lip. “Guess this means I’ll see you soon?”
Alexia smiled wider. “Guess you will.”
You bit your lip, nodding before fully turning to walk back to your building. “Good night, Alexia.” you said one last time as you looked back at her.
She chuckled. "Good morning, YN."
a/n: ack long ass chapter. i'm sorry it took so long but i hope it was worth it. barely had time to proofread; ill do it after i post hahaha anyway, please comment if u want to be added to the taglist to be notified for the next part!
Hello! Little life update since I’ve been so incredibly inactive. For those who know how much I hated my home state- I’ve finally moved!! I’m finishing my doctorate in New York City and just haven’t had as much time to be online because there’s so much to enjoy here.
Also since the drama around Alexia’s renewal, I’ve been taking a small step back from soccer and it’s related social media because I needed a reality check that I don’t know any of these people and cannot have it causing stress in my actual real life.
Anyways, I still check and respond to things on here, but just can’t say if/when I’ll be back to writing.
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the hyperintense criticism alexia’s getting over an unconfirmed transfer move is one of the exact reasons she left barcelona btw
yes it’s a bit disappointing she’s likely going to a kang club but you can also be happy she’s found a club that she deems suitable for herself, for what she wants at this stage in her career. you can be happy for her personally and professionally, and disappointed at her choices, the two aren’t mutually exclusive, you don’t have to pick a side
above all else, as if a woman that bleeds blaugrana and emptied herself for the badge would willingly go to a club she feels is ruining barça.
like, what have we all learnt man. what are we even doing right now
☆ Summary: A glimpse into the hours following the Champions League victory in Oslo. You might or might not be wearing Patri's shirt through it all, which is a problem for a certain captain.
☆ Word count: 6.7K
☆ Warnings: (+18) SMUT • lot of dry humping • scissoring (again, yes) • boob love <3 • the captain armband stays on during sex • jealous/possessive Ale • mention of body image issues • baby alexia
☆ A/n: keeping score universe!! You will enjoy this fic more if you read these fics first
The Champions League final was here.
You had managed to get a few (precious) days off from the hospital, all so you could tag along to Oslo.
But travelling with the Football Club Barcelona meant navigating a game of hide-and-sick. You and Ale were still very private about your relationship, so much so that your presence in Norway has sent some small corners of the internet buzzing.
Online, the fans were completely split into two teams. Half of them thought you had come solely to support Clara, your younger sister, while the other half suspected you were there for Alexia, your rumoured girlfriend.
None of them knew you were there for both.
It was Clara's first time playing in a Champions League final, and since your parents were far too "busy" to make it to the game, you had made sure she would have someone cheering for her in the stands. At the same time, it was the first opportunity you had ever had to travel and watch Alexia play anywhere other than Barcelona.
Two birds, one stone.
When the final whistle blew, you were in the stands wearing a Guijarro shirt. The shirt had been a very strategic decision on your part.
Alexia and Clara had both suffered absolute meltdowns at the mere thought of you wearing the other's number and name. There was no chance you were subjecting yourself to the humiliation of a half-and-half shirt either, so you had ended the argument by picking up Alexia's phone, texting Patri yourself, and asking if she could sort you out a shirt with her name on it.
Clara had retaliated by making sure you could hear Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo playing from her room for three days straight. It was, indeed, torture.
Alexia, meanwhile, had pouted and declared that you were officially banned from kissing, hugging, or holding her hand until you came home with a shirt with her name and number eleven on it.
You did not cave.
She lasted four hours without kisses, hugs, or hand-holding. You didn't mention it when she finally folded. You just smiled into her hair as she pulled you in, both of you pretending the temporary ban had never happened.
Your plan had never been to go down onto the pitch for the celebrations.
You didn't want fans spotting you and Alexia together, which you knew would happen the second you were within a few meters of each other. You had told both Ale and Clara that beforehand, and they had agreed, after, of course, being babies about it.
But then the fans began to leave the stadium, the medal ceremony things were dismantled piece by piece, and the red and blue ribbons settled in the turf.
That's when you saw it.
Across the pitch, Alexia was laughing with her mum and uncle, tucked between them as if she were a little kid. A little further, Cata was wrapped up with her girlfriend and parents. Pina was surrounded by her mum and cousins, all of them talking over each other.
And then there was Clara.
She stood all by herself, a gold medal hanging around her neck, quietly watching everyone else. It was long past the moment when teammates were celebrating with each other; now they had all turned toward their own families. And Clara's family consisted entirely of you and your brother, who hadn't been able to take time off uni to come.
You felt your heart crack right down the middle, pieces of it falling in the stands. Before you could think better of it, before you could remind yourself why you had promised to stay in the stands, you were already moving towards the barrier.
You showed your credentials to the security guards, and they let you through without a second glance.
Clara didn't see you coming.
You caught her by surprise, wrapping your arms around her shoulders from behind. She gasped when she saw it was you, and you knew it was a sound you were going to carry around with you for a long time.
She was just so, so happy.
The expression on her face reminded you of when she was younger, doing dance recitals. Back then, she would search for you in the audience because your parents thought those performances weren't worth attending. As she spun around inside your embrace, her smile looked exactly the same as it had all those years ago. Except now, with fewer baby teeth.
You pulled her into a tighter hug, burying your face into her shoulder because, of course, she was taller than you despite being the youngest. The edge of her medal dug painfully into your sternum, but you ignored it.
"I'm so proud of you, Clarita," you whispered, "Te quiero, mana."
"Te quiero," she replied, kissing your cheek. "Thank you for being here."
Neither of you moved for a long time, and although there were plenty of people around, talking nonstop, it felt like this tiny space between the two of you was the quietest place on the entire pitch.
"You said you wouldn't come down," Clara murmured, squeezing you even tighter. "You said we would meet back in the locker room."
"I was being silly," you said, smiling up to her as the bear hug finally came to an end.
Your ribs were hurting. When had Clara gotten so strong?
You pulled back just enough to take the medal in your hands, turning it carefully. "I needed to see this medal up close, no?" You smiled. "You deserved it, bebé."
Clara rolled her eyes. "Don't call me bebé. I'm nineteen."
You ignored her completely as you reached up and pinched her cheeks. "Mi bebezota!"
"Urgh!" Clara groaned, trying to escape your grip. "Stop! You are embarrassing me"
A grin tugged at your lips. That was exactly what you wanted.
"People are watching, you know," she added.
People were watching indeed. Including Alexia.
It hadn't taken long for her to find you.
You obviously spotted her before she saw you; she was standing several meters behind Clara.
The moment her hazel eyes landed on you, something in her whole posture softened; a beautiful smile spread across her face even as she held herself carefully still, stiff, almost rigid.
Her shoulders were far too straight, the professional façace held tightly in place. She, as much as you, was entirely aware of how many broadcast cameras were following her every move.
It was almost as if she were waiting for you to make the decision.
Seeing her standing there, her temples covered in sweat that slipped down her collarbones, her face flushed from the game and from being smothered in her mother's affection, the identical gold medal that also adorned her neck....
She was pretty, and yours and the distance suddenly felt far too ridiculous to be taken so seriously.
You patted Clara on the back when Syd and Aicha called her to take some pictures. After watching her go, you turned and started walking towards Alexia.
She smiled at you the entire way.
When you stopped in front of her, you immediately pulled her into your side. You were hyper aware of your surroundings, so you kept the gesture simple, safe and casual.
You slid your arm around her shoulder, nothing more. You leaned in close enough for only her to hear, whispering a "mi campeona" right into her ear. Then you pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.
You hear her breath hitched, the puff of air that came out of her mouth was slow and warm against your neck as she instinctively leaned into you. She squeezed your waist just a second too long, just a fraction harder than any friend normally would.
"I thought you weren't coming down?" she murmured the exact same word Clara had said only moments earlier.
"Mhmm," you whispered, reluctantly stepping away from her, putting a more friendly distance between you. "I changed my mind."
Behind her, Eli and her uncle were watching the interaction with matching smiles.
You had met Alexia's family a few months ago, and along with the team, they were among the very few people who knew exactly what you meant to her. Something much, much more significant than her protegé's sister.
"Hola, mi amor!" Eli exclaimed, stepping forward and pulling you into a motherly hug, completely unconcerned by the cameras around you. "I'm glad you came down! I told you, it's fun being on the pitch after they win."
"Hey, Eli," you said, smiling and kissing both her cheeks. "You were, once again, completely right."
You turned in a slow circle, taking in the stadium, taking in everything.
"Everything feels far too big down here." You turned to Alexia. "How can you even play? I feel so tiny, like an ant."
Alexia shrugged, a soft look in her eyes. She always got those whenever you and her mom were together.
"You get used to it and--Mama! I told you I'm not cold" she pouted.
Alexia twisted away, trying to dodge as Eli attempted to drape a heavy coat over her shoulder.
"But you are shaking, bebé!" Eli insisted.
"I'm not shaking, mama," Alexia protested, already blushing. "I'm just–"
Before she could finish, you felt an arm suddenly land over your shoulder, dragging you slightly sideways.
"Guapa! Hi! look who's decided to join us. Got tired of hiding in your cave?"
Patri's voice was excited; she was always the sweetest on the team. She looked like she had been to war and back, maybe for them footballers, the Champions League final really was war.
"Hola!!!"
Another voice came. Kika appeared beside Patri, vibrating with energy, her dark hair sticking out in every possible direction. You knew those two would party a lot tonight.
Patri's brown eyes dropped to your back, her grin widening as she noticed the name printed across the fabric.
She looked over at Alexia, raising one eyebrow with mischief.
"Look at that, Ale," Patri teased, patting your shoulder proudly. "Your girl knows talent when she sees it."
Alexia's eyes narrowed playfully, her lips pressing into a tight, pouting line as she stared at the Guijarro shirt covering your torso. She looked at you, her eyes shining with that possessive spark you had come to adore. To expect.
Kika laughed, leaning into Patri's side. "Oh no... capi's a bit mad."
"I'm not mad," Alexia countered smoothly, though her eyes never left yours. "It's a nice shirt. It just happens to have the wrong number on it.
By the time you made it back to the hotel, Alexia had been grinning ear to ear for approximately forty minutes straight. She knew perfectly well what the two of you were going to do once you set foot into the hotel room.
The team bus wasn't leaving for the club for another hour and a half, but Alexia did not seem particularly invested in the public celebrations anymore. At the moment, she appeared to be significantly more excited about kissing your entire face.
The door had barely clicked shut behind you before her hands were on your waist.
"I'm so happy you are here, mi sol," she whispered against your lips, her voice raspy, probably from running so much and whatever singing had taken place in the locker room afterwards.
She kissed you gently at first, and then deeper, before resting her forehead against yours, breathing in slowly. Breathing you in.
"You looked pretty in the stands," she murmured. "My favourite fangirl."
"I'm your favourite even while in Patri's shirt?" You teased softly.
"Shut up," she murmured with a breathless laugh, not allowing you to mutter another word as she captured your mouth again, sucking your tongue.
"You won't be wearing it much longer, so enjoy it while you can."
You were fairly sure you would.
Her hands settled on your hips as she slowly guided you backwards through the room. There was something confident in her steps; they were so deliberate and confident, for a moment, it was easy to forget you were in a hotel a few kilometres away from her actual home in Barcelona.
The back of your knee bumped against the edge of the bed, and you let yourself fall onto it, with Alexia following right after.
You kissed her, tasting her champagne-tinged tongue, she felt weightless on top of you.
Her captain's armband was still hugging her bicep tightly; of course, she hadn't taken it off. Once you had told her how much you loved it when she fucked you with it, she had started to keep it. Her heavy gold medal was still hanging around her neck, swaying between you like a pendulum.
Alexia was exactly as good as she thought she was, completely dominant on and off the pitch. The way confidence seemed to be radiating off of her in a way that was equal parts dangerous and attractive.
Your hand travelled down to her lower back, your finger sliding beneath the waistband of her shorts to squeeze the firm flesh of her ass. You shifted under her, tilting your body just right to force her pelvis closer to yours.
"It was hot watching you play," you murmured against her mouth.
You leaned up, caught her lower lip between your teeth, biting into it enough for you to hear a small whimper fall from her tongue.
She pouted at you, her eyes hazy, unfocused. She was completely fixed on you, silently asking you to kiss it better.
You didn't make her wait, pulling her down once more.
"Soy su campeona?" Alexia whispered into the narrow space between your mouth. Her voice sounded much smaller than usual, completely bewitched, and slightly tipsy. [Am I your champion?]
"Si," you whispered, your hand clutching her ass. "Mine, only mine."
Alexia smiled and caught you in a kiss.
Her hot mouth trailed down the line of your jaw, dragging over the side of your throat. One hand guided your head gently aside as she found the hidden and sensitive spot right behind your ear, choosing to brand you there, sucking firmly until you knew it would leave a purplish mark.
A mix of a giggle and a gasp escaped you as your hand settled on her shoulders. "A hickey? Really? You teased. "How old are you? Sixteen?"
She huffed a laugh against your pulse point. "I deserved it, okay? I won the Champions League. I can do whatever I want today."
"Mhm," you hummed, tipping your head back a little further to give her entirely uninhibited access to do as she pleased. "I suppose you can do whatever you want with me, yes."
"Si?" She asked dangerously.
Even without looking, you could feel the slow, coy smile pressing right against your jugular.
"Uhum," you nodded as much as you could under her weight.
"Joder," she cursed, her breath hitching as the absolute submission in your voice sank in. Her hips shifted, rolling hard and against yours as she pinned you to the mattress. "Voy a correr si sigues diciendo eso." [I'm gonna cum if you keep saying that.]
She kept moving against you; it was clear that the confession made her turn absolutely relentless. She took off your shirt, leaving your torso bare.
She pressed her body completely flush, the medal a cool contrast between your breasts, while the rough fabric of her armband brushed against your arm. Her mouth claimed yours once more, her tongue pushing deep, the taste of champagne still there.
You could, somehow, feel her wetness through the fabric of her shorts, slick and hot.
Your fingers dug deeper into the meat of her ass, squeezing as you tilted your own body, forcing her pelvis to drag exactly where you needed. "You're so fucking hot, Alexia."
Alexia moaned low straight into the kiss, then broke it to trail her lips back to your neck, sucking another mark right beside the first.
"Mía," she murmured, voice dropping as her hips found a steady rhythm. [Mine]
Her clit was pressing and sliding against yours through layers of clothing. Her chest was absolutely perfect against yours. She nipped at your earlobe, her breath becoming faster and faster with every passing second.
"Dilo otra vez," Alexia demanded, grinding harder. [say it again.]
You arched up to meet her, your hands roaming beneath her shirt to feel the sweat-slick skin of her back. She trembled when your fingers dug into the tense muscles there.
"You can do whatever you want with me, baby," you breathed right into her ear. "Whatever you want, sí? I'm yours; you deserve it. I'm all yours tonight."
"Ah," she moaned, the medal clinked softly with every roll of her hips. "I want to fuck you nice and slow."
She was growing impatient with the barrier of clothes between you.
She shifted, yanking her shorts down just enough to bare herself before turning her attention to you, working at your clothes with impatient tugs until skin finally met skin.
Finally, you were both completely naked.
When her bare pussy finally settled over yours, your folds parted wetly under the weight. She resumed the grind right away, clit to clit, moving in slow circles.
"Oh god, you feel so good," you gasped, eyes dropping to watch the way her slick coated you, it was so messy, so raw, so fucking delicious. Your eyes landed on her armband again and that only made you get wetter. "Damn, Alexia. You are fucking dripping baby."
"Joder, amor" She hissed again, her voice cracking as overstimulation hit her. "Tan mojada-" [you're so wet]
Still, she kept the pace even, riding the shared wetness, her body soft yet controlled as she chased the edge without rushing towards it.
Her medal continues to swing between you, a constant reminder of the massive victory waiting just outside the hotel room.
Her hands slid up your arms before settling around your wrists, pinning them above your head.
"You get so bossy when you win," you manage to say, rolling your eyes. You loved it when she got more dominant.
Your head suddenly felt so heavy.
You weren't sure whether it was exhaustion, dehydration, or simply the overwhelming intensity of the day catching up with you.
You were so overwhelmed with the way her body was touching every centimeter of your skin, how her kisses were getting sloppy and wet.
She was desperate, and you were, too. Your cunts were grinding, making a mess on both your bodies, the slickness dripping down her pussy right into yours, soaking you completely.
"I'm bossy and you fucking love it," Alexia shot back, moving her body carefully, trying not to crush you, but apply the right amount of pressure to your clit. "You are soaked, mi amor, all for me, huh"
She was, of course, right.
Keeping one wrist pinned above your head with one single hand, Alexia used the other to grip your thigh firmly, spreading it wider.
"Stay like that," she whispered while absolutely devouring your neck. "Don't you dare move."
Alexia shifted you as if you were a rag doll, moving your legs how she wanted until her cunt was aligned to her liking.
"Next time you wear my shirt, si?" she murmured, jealousy still thick in her voice as her cunt moved with yours.
She looked down at you, her eyes dark as she kept rutting against you. "Tengo mi coño pegado al tuyo, y todavía no llevas mi camiseta?" [My cunt is pressed against yours, and you're still not wearing my shirt?]
"Mhmm," you moaned. Fuck.
You were gonna cum.
"Tell me who is going to make you cum," she asked, as if reading your mind, her voice was low as she continued her movements.
The pleasure was becoming so intense, you were going to snap.
Alexia's dirty talk was way too good. Her pussy was pulsing over yours, all slick, dripping down to soak the white sheets between your thighs.
Alexia pinched your arm. "Ouch!" You gasped, caught between pain and pleasure.
"Who is rubbing your cunt? Me or Patri?"
"Y-you," you managed to say, breathless.
"Who marked your whole neck?" She asked again. "Who gets to have you naked in her hotel bed? Who, mi sol?"
The sensation pushed you over the edge right after, your body arching up into her as waves of pleasure took over you.
"F-fuck, Ale," your body was going limp, all warm as the orgasm took over. "You baby, you, always you."
Alexia, sensing your orgasm, rutted her cunt faster until she was climaxing all over you. "Oh, god–" she moaned in your ear.
She stayed exactly where she was afterwards, naked and beautiful on top of you.
Your pussies were still pressed together, warm and dripping. Alexia nuzzled lower until she found your breast, drawing the nipple into her mouth with slow and comforting pulls.
Her tongue flicked lazily, her breath warm and even against your chest as she settled in, tasting the mix of sweat on your breast, while her fingers played with your other nipple.
"You didn't answer my question," she mumbled from your breast after a minute.
"Ahn?" You asked, your mind far too dizzy. You hadn't even realised she was on your breast, when you did, pleasure began to grow again. "I did, no-?"
"You'll wear my shirt?" She asked, her words slightly slurred. "Next time? Please?"
"Oh," you said, nodding against the pillows, your voice still shaky from the climax, it was so… intense. You weren't sure you would ever regain all of your breath.
"Yeah, of course. I mean…" A laugh escaped you. "After this, how can I not?"
Alexia made a pleased sound deep in her throat and kept her lips sealed around your nipple. Her body stayed relaxed on top of yours, her frame soft pressing down.
You realised it was probably the first time she felt at ease and relaxed since she woke up.
Her thumb continued to touch over your nipple, rubbing slow circles before giving it a gentle tug and roll between her fingers.
"We need to get ready for the club," you murmured eventually, your fingers threading through her now-brunette hair. "It's getting late."
She whined softly.
She sucked a little harder for a moment, refusing to lift her head. Her thumb kept playing, flicking and pinching the other nipple while her hips gave one lazy grind that made both of you shiver, your clits brushing.
"No..." she mumbled around the peak in her mouth. "Stay like this. Just a little longer."
"I can't be the reason you are late," you said with a chuckle, still combing your fingers through her hair. "It's not good for my reputation. I'm new to the Barcelona circle, the girls need to like me... they won't if I make their captain late."
"The girls will never think anything badly of you," Alexia said, her mouth finally unlatching. She rested her cheek against your chest, listening to your heart. "You are too sweet for that."
You chucked at that, staring at the beige hotel ceiling. Was it beige? Or had it once been white and simply not been cleaned properly in years.
"Sweet? Me?" You chuckled. "Okay, maybe love really is blind."
Alexia looked up, frowning. "What? You are sweet, gentle, caring-"
You shook your head, a hint of a self-deprecating smile on your face. "I'm not bebé. I'm stressed all the time. I'm moody as soon as I wake up. I'm constantly worried about something or someone-"
"Because you care," Alexia interrupted instantly.
She pushed herself up onto her elbows, no longer putting her full weight on you; she looked down at you with a very fierce expression.
"You are worried all the time because you care about your patients, about your siblings…" Her voice softened slightly. "About me."
You looked at her with soft (and slightly sad) eyes.
"I think you see me in a much better light than I actually deserve."
"I see you just right, mi sol," Alexia said, leaning down to kiss your lips.
"My sweet." Kiss.
"Pretty." Kiss.
"Gentle." Kiss.
"Loving." Kiss.
"Girlfriend.
You were smiling second one. You didn't try to stop it.
"You get too cheesy when you cum," you whispered, a sudden blush creeping up your cheeks. "It's adorable."
"I know, perdon," Alexia replied, pouting down at you without a single ounce of regret.
"I'm sorry I don't get cheesy," you murmured. "But I swear I love you just as much."
"It's okay," she chucked. "I know you love me. This is the first time you have actually taken time off for someone. That has to be true love."
You squinted your eyes, your cheeks heating up even more. "And who exactly told you that?"
Alexia chucked, leaning down to press a warm kiss on top of your blush. "Your sweetheart of a sister."
"Of course she did."
As it turned out, actually getting out of bed and preparing for the night was considerably less romantic than the books made it seem.
Once Alexia finally untangled herself from you, the two of you were forced to acknowledge the mess the sex left on the hotel sheets.
There was a large, damp stain stretched across the middle of the bed. The lingering scent of sex and slickness was mixed with the light breeze coming through the window.
Alexia did not seem remotely concerned about the ruined sheets, instead, she just propped her head up on her hand and simply watched you with a big and proud grin on her face.
You, in response, blushed all over, immediately scrambling for the duvet, dragging it up to your chin to cover yourself.
"Stop watching me like that," you pouted, clutching the fabric tighter.
Alexia rolled her eyes and continued to smile.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, moving smoothly without a single hint of instability; you were certain you would be wobbling if you had been topping the way she just did.
She walked across the room to fetch the two white hotel robes hanging by the wardrobe.
She slipped one on herself before returning to bed with the second. She gently tried to pry the duvet away from your tight grip so she could put the second one over your shoulders.
"We had sex less than twenty-four hours after we met for the first time," she teased, tugging playfully at the duvet. "Back then, you had absolutely no problem being naked around me… And now you are embarrassed?"
You rolled your eyes, holding it for dear life.
"Back then, I was thinner. But you know what they say, happy relationships make you gain weight." Your gaze dripped over her athletic frame. "Bon… unless you are a very disciplined footballer, then apparently, you don't gain a single kilo."
Alexia's playful expression vanished instantly, replaced by genuine worry.
"What!??" She blurted. "Are you having issues with your body? Like... body image issues?! Mi amor, you are the prettiest woman alive!"
You rolled your eyes at her dramatics. This was exactly why you hadn't said a single thing until now.
"No, I'm not having any issues," you said. "I know I'm... fine. I'm just different than when we started dating and–"
"You are, like, hotter now," Alexia interrupted, stating it so blankly and firmly as if she was merely speaking facts.
"Huh?"
"You are hotter," she repeated. "Because you are my lovely, beautiful girlfriend now."
You smiled at her, your heart feeling warm. The poor thing was trying hard to reassure you.
Your sweet, sweet girl. "Gracias, Ale."
"No, baby, I mean it," Alexia insisted, her tone changing to something so incredibly tender and sincere it made your chest ache. "You are perfect. Your face is perfect, and your body-"
Your grip around the duvet loosened, and Alexia took advantage, finally managing to wrap the robe around you. "And your thighs are perfect, and your tummy is perfect… and everything about you–"
"Okay, love, that's enough--"
"If I could, I would eat you whole."
You blinked at her.
"Okay, that's literally cannibalism."
"Some cultures see cannibalism as an ultimate act of love and adoration," Alexia countered immediately.
She said it with the most profound, soft, tender and deadpan face. She was completely serious, looking at you like a proud cat that had just caught a dead bird and was offering it as a sign of love.
"Oh, okay," you said, as you reached up and patted both her cheeks. "Thanks, my love. I'm feeling much better now. I would absolutely let you eat me whole if it wouldn't result in the complete ceasing of my existence."
"Really?" Alexia asked happily, her eyes lighting up. "Would you do the same to me?"
What the hell kind of sweet talk even was that?
"Oh... yes," you said with fake enthusiasm. "Of course."
Alexia beamed, looking incredibly happy and touched that her (bizarre) feelings were being fully reciprocated.
Relationships, however, and as sad as it seems, were not built entirely on sex and body image conversations that somehow end up in discussions of cannibalism, you see. Most often, they were not; there were arguments. Petty and ridiculous arguments.
Like the shower.
"Okay… we really need to clean up and get dressed," you said, glancing towards the bathroom. "The bus is leaving soon."
Alexia wrapped her arms around your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder. "Let's take a shower together then," she murmured against your skin, her voice dropping to a seductive cadence.
You let out a dry laugh. "Nice try, Ale."
Alexia stepped in front of you, her face collapsing into a (guess what?) pout.
"Mi sol, please?" she pleaded, yes, pleaded. "I love you and your body, and we love taking showers together, sí? Come on, please? Pretty please? You say I'm your champion, no? Don't I deserve to take a shower with mi amor?!"
You stared at her for two full seconds before you folded.
You always fold. It was entirely Eli's fault for creating a woman with the prettier, most stupidly devastating puppy face ever made in the world. Nobody could say no to those eyes.
"Ugh, fine," you sighed, letting her take your hand and lead you to the bathroom. "You do deserve it."
Slowly, the reality of what she had accomplished began to settle over you, a warm feeling took over your torso, a smile appeared on your face, and Alexia noticed it.
She grinned too, pushing you gently against her, one hand sliding to your robe as she backed you against the tiled wall.
She was all over you, kissing you until your knees felt weak.
You caught her jaw in your hand, and she leaned into the touch. "You really won, huh, bebé?" you whispered again, "yeah, yeah... you really do deserve it."
"Your girlfriend is a European champion," she whispered back.
She grinned again before she stole another kiss, her hips drifting a little to yours.
"Ale, no," you gasped, pushing lightly on her shoulder. "We seriously cannot have sex again. We'll actually miss the bus, and I'm not taking an Uber to the club. That would be a proper walk of shame."
"No sex, no," she dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand. "Just a little kissing," she bargained, punctuating the statement by nipping at your chin.
"Okaaay," you said slowly. "Kissing, yes, but under the shower."
You both stepped into the shower stall. You reached over and turned the knob, settling the temperature to your preference. You waited a bit till the water completely heated up and then walked under the water, feeling it soak over you.
So warm. So perfect.
Alexia, still wearing that confident and romantic smile of hers, stepped directly behind you. Okay, maybe too could fit in a quickie and-
Alexia went completely silent behind you. Then… her eyes flew wide open.
Before you could even register what was happening, a hand clamped around your waist, and she yanked you backwaters out of the stream of water.
"Joder! Estás loca?!!" She said, frantically wiping stray droplets of water from her face as though she had just been splashed with HCl. "The water is burning my skin! It's melting me!" [Fuck, are you crazy?!]
"That's the temperature I like to shower at!" You protested, completely bewildered by her reaction. "What is wr–"
"You are making a soup out of yourself!!" Alexia looked so genuinely horrified, you were starting to wonder if the water was really that hot. "You are a doctor, you, of all people, should know how bad this is for your skin! It's gonna fall off!"
You cautiously stuck a hand back under the stream.
It felt oh so lovely… warm, comforting. Exactly how a shower should feel.
"You are being dramatic again, Alexia!"
"I'm not!" she said. "You want us to stand in boiling water!"
"You and Clara," you said, shaking your head. "Dramatic as hell. That's why you get along so well. Exactly the same personality."
Alexia opened her mouth to argue, and then snapped it shut. Apparently, she did not appreciate the comparison to her teenage protege, and got deeply wounded by it.
In the end, the romantic shared shower never happened.
Alexia kept her robe on and sat on the closed toilet lid while you showered, her arm crossed, pout deep in her lips. She watched you through the steam the entire time, her eyes fixed on you, refusing to look away for even a second.
When you finished, the two of you switched places.
Alexia then proceeded to shower at a temperature that, according to her, had been specifically designed for people who weren't actively trying to cook themselves alive.
Not everything is as romantic as it seems.
You were halfway through putting on your shirt when Alexia's voice drifted out from the bathroom, muffled by the glass door and the rushing water.
"You know I gained weight, too, right?"
You paused, confused, with your arms caught awkwardly in the fabric. "Uh?"
After a second, the sound of the shower cut off.
Alexia emerged wrapped in her hotel robe, her damp hair dripping down her shoulders and right onto the wooden floor. Unlike you, she actually had to wash her hair after being on the pitch for so long.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
You silently counted every single drop that fell.
"You said disciplined athletes don't gain weight," she explained, pulling at the collar on her robe, which seemed too tight on her; her skin was red and irritated. "I gained two kilos this season."
You stared, still confused, but then the realisation finally set in. She was still thinking about what you had said earlier.
"Bebé," you sighed, your arms dropping to your sides ."You don't need to do that."
"Do what?' She frowned.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about,' you said, turning away from her toward the small vanity to start doing your hair. "I'm fine, Ale. Really."
"Well," she began, stepping closer. "And you don't need to do that – saying you are fine just because you don't want to talk about something."
You rolled your eyes, focusing on the mirror and and how your hair was completely inconsiderate of the fact that you had places to be tonight.
Alexia didn't like to be ignored.
Predictably, she appeared behind you a second later. For a brief moment, the angry dog in you wanted to snap her, tell her to back off because her wet hair was soaking through your dried clothes.
But then she rested her chin on your shoulder. In the mirror, you noticed how her cheeks were still pink from the shower. She smelled overwhelmingly like generic hotel shampoo because she forgot to pack her own, and the lightning made her hazel eyes look somehow greener.
The anger completely dissipated. You let her stay.
"I love your body," she said quietly, her eyes on yours through the reflection.
You softened even more. "I know you do, Ale."
She pressed a soft kiss against your neck, and you continued. "I never worried about that. You have never given me a single reason to, okay?" you said.
It was the truth. Alexia had always looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Always. From the very first day back at her house until now.
"You always make a point of showing it, ale," you murmured, feeling a deep need to reassure her.
"Okay, good," she said, pleased with herself.
For a moment, you genuinely thought the conversation was over, and you could go back to fighting with your hair. But then her expression shifted, turning serious again. "So… where is this coming from, then?"
You looked away from her reflection, or tried to. A million different reasons passed through your mind, but none of them seemed serious enough or logical enough to be the actual reason behind it.
Maybe it was the junction of it all. Maybe it wasn't just one thing. Or maybe it was just you, fighting with that universal human flaw, that dangerous voice that made it hard to feel fully satisfied with yourself.
You shrugged, choosing the simplest answer you could find. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Oh, but we are talking about it," she said, delivering with certainty as if a conversation didn't always need to be bidirectional.
You rolled your eyes again. "Alexia, the bus–"
"The bus can wait."
"It literally cannot."
She pressed a firm kiss to your cheek, then finally released her hold on you. She let the robe fall carelessly to the floor, leaving her beautiful naked body entirely free for you to look at.
She was really an unfairly pretty woman. Then, killing your fun, she grabbed a fresh towel to dry her body off.
"Okay," she said, drying herself and then beginning to brush her wet hair. "We'll talk while we get ready, that way we wont miss the bus."
"Oh Jesus Christ," you groaned, letting your forehead rest against the glass of the mirror.
"The faster you talk," she sang out, completely cheerful. "The faster we leave."
"You are so annoying," you sighed. "And incredibly stubborn."
"And excellent at time management," she countered, clearly proud of herself.
"And insistent," you mumbled, though you couldn't help but smile. "So annoyingly insistent."
"I prefer the word tenacious."
You rolled your eyes at that.
You were quiet for a moment, desperately hoping she would let the silence take over and drop it. But Of course, she didn't. She was tenacious, unfortunately for you.
"It' just…" You hesitated, thinking of ways to put it. "Everyone around you is so... fit. You know?"
Alexia paused her brushing, looking at you. "What? Everyone?"
"The girls on the team," you explained, your voice dropping a bit. "Their girlfriend, your other friends… Everyone in that circle is so into the gym and everyone is so athletic and they all look a certain way."
"And what does that have to do with you and your body, amor?" she asked softly. "They are them; you are you."
You opened your mouth to give a very sharp and pragmatic answer, but the words never came. You couldn't think of a single thing to say.
Yeah, what exactly did that have to do with you?
For once in your life, you didn't have an answer, and you absolutely hated that. You were witty, rapid thinking, you always knew what to say, but right now, you were empty of logic and words.
Alexia instantly sensed your distress, as always, she saw right through the quiet.
"Eres guapísima," she said tenderly, putting her brush aside and walking back over to you and gently cupping your face.
You felt your cheeks warm, but she didn't stop. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then your chin.
"Hermosa, preciosa," she murmured against your skin. "Perfecta. Mía."
You laughed, weakly trying to push her shoulder to hide your face. "Okay, okay, got it. You are like, super, hopelessly in love with me."
Alexia just grinned. "Something like that, si."
She locked her arms around your waist, pulling you against her and bringing her mouth close to your ear. "You will always be the prettiest woman in every room – or pitch – that I ever walk in, okay? Don't forget that."
You rolled your eyes, trying your absolutely best to look unimpressed, but unfortunately, your smile completely gave away.
☆ A/n: I really really wanted to write something "realistic" and domestic about the final, so why not with our keeping score babies? Someone asked me once what shirt reader would wear to a game, so this is the answer hehe. I got an ask a few months ago about reader feeling a bit insecure because everyone around Alexia was so fit, so I decided to add it to this fic. I'm sorry if it was too random, but I feel that keeping score reader would be a bit upset and try to hide it and I didn't want to write a whole blurb around it.
