poetry sonnets

DISCLAIMER: This fic contains an age gap of 8 years (present time reader is 24, Alexia is 32) and explores a dynamic of a shared history that not all readers may be comfortable with. There is also some foul language in the fic that references their relationship dynamic. I didn’t want to just leave a “DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT” type of warning. Hence, why I am including this disclaimer just to be safe.  I believe I handled the topic with as much caution and tact as there can be when it comes to smut but if you feel that the age gap and history is something you would dislike or feel iffy reading about, do not read. 

⋆˙⟡♡ Alexia has not left your mind ever since you met her.

She managed to consistently occupy a disproportionate amount of your brain for years. Even when you tried to get away from her.

You spent six years in Manchester, tried to get as far as you could at that age from Barcelona; you dated all kinds of women in the hopes that one of them would stick and yet, she was still the one who constantly occupied your mind.

Trying to forget about Alexia Putellas was impossible but seeing her again seemed even harder than you anticipated.

You bit your lip as you lingered in your childhood living room, just having arrived back from a small welcome drink with old friends, now returning to your welcome home party at your dad's house. 

You watched her standing out there — beer in hand, talking to Patri about something, throwing her head back to laugh. She looked so familiar and yet so different. The once lankier build you were so familiar with was now firm and strong, her hair back to its natural brown, framing her face. She looked so good and every part of you couldn't stand it.

"You good, princesa?" Your dad appeared at your shoulder, reading your face in the infuriating way that fathers do. "Go on outside. Everyone's waiting to see you."

“Yeah, soon, Papà.” You hummed and gave him a small smile. "I was just, uh, reminiscing."

He laughed, a confused look on his face. "Well, you can reminisce outside." He nudged you. "C'mon. Alexia's been asking about you nonstop."

You said nothing, just nodded. "I'll follow you out. Just gotta change first."

"Okay, but don't make them wait too long," he said, already heading outside, already walking toward Alexia and her group. You stayed where you were for another moment, taking a deep sigh before heading to your bedroom to change.

⋆˙⟡♡ Your dad had you when he was young; he was only seventeen, barely settled into his own life, scrambling to figure out single fatherhood. Even if it was hard, he made it work but that meant giving up a lot.

Before he had you, he had been training with the Barcelona B team, trying to make something of himself, but after you were born and one tragically timed ACL injury later, he accepted that his dreams as a footballer were done. The world of football, though, that he couldn't let go of. So he took coaching courses, put in the hours, and slowly found his footing as an assistant tactical coach for the women's team.

Alexia was just a new signee to Barcelona then; she was eighteen, bright-eyed, restless with ambition. She and your dad got close after she badgered him into helping her with her defensive work, knowing he'd been a decent defender in his day.

Eventually, they got closer after all those training sessions, so much so that he started treating Alexia like his work-little-sister. 

⋆˙⟡♡ You met Alexia for the first time at your housewarming party. Your dad had just inherited the house from your late grandfather, and after months of renovation, it was finally ready. It felt like a real change from the small apartment you'd grown up in. He invited people from the club, and Alexia was one of them.

You already knew who she was. You were also training in La Masia at that time. The women’s team had just become fully professional and all the femeni players were somewhat heroes to all of you girls in La Masia.

Your dad introduced you the way he always did, calling you his princesa. Alexia found it cute and adopted it on the spot, and began referring to you as princesa as well. While it made you cringe whenever your dad introduced you that way to his friends, insisting that you were too old to be called that, you didn’t seem to mind when it came from Alexia.  You decided that you liked the way it sounded when it came from her.

Since then, Alexia became a constant presence in your life.

Along with other people from the club, she always came over to your house for weekends and right before the holidays, before she headed back to her family. In the times that she was there, she taught you to do football tricks. She’d help you with homework.

She occasionally also came to your youth games when she could, standing at the crowd with her arms folded, paying proper attention, and afterwards would tell you what you'd done well and what you needed to work on.  Somehow that always mattered more than anything your dad or coaches said.

You didn't think anything of it for a long time. She was just Alexia, just always there. 

But as you grew older, you slowly figured that there was something different in the way you felt about Alexia. And, by the time you were sixteen, you had fully figured it out: the reason you couldn't stop thinking about her, couldn't stop smiling when she talked to you, the way your heart did that stupid thing whenever she was near...

You knew, at that point, it wasn’t just platonic admiration.

⋆˙⟡♡ It was your eighteenth birthday. Your dad suggested that you celebrate it at a bar. He said something about celebrating Barcelona B winning the league and also something about wanting you to learn how to drink while surrounded by people you trusted.

Whatever it was, you just went along with it.

Because not only were you celebrating your birthday, the fact that you were finally being able to drink legally and that your team won, you were also celebrating the fact that Alexia was coming to see you again.

"She's actually coming?" your teammate said, for the third time.

"She always comes," you said, bragging a bit but trying to sound like it was nothing. 

Throughout the years, Alexia slowly became a household name in Spain. She was catching the attention of everyone, signing brand deals, and receiving awards. She wasn’t just Alexia, your dad’s friend. She was now Alexia Putellas, la reina.

Though, while you loved watching her succeed, it also meant you got to see her less. The visits became less frequent: weekly became monthly, then monthly became occasionally. Then, occasionally became nothing much at all,

But thankfully, she was finally making time to see you for your birthday. Just as you were turning eighteen.

She arrived about an hour in,and you felt the energy in the room shift the way it always did when Alexia walked into somewhere. Your group of friends from La Masia started giggling and smiling, already eager to approach Alexia for a picture.

"Moltes felicitats!" She found you first, arms open. She hugged you properly, wrapping her arms around you and lifting you up for a second. All you could think about was how happy you were to see her again and how amazing she smelled, the same familiar perfume she had always used.

She pulled back from the hug and looked at your outfit, frowning to herself. "You turn eighteen and couldn’t wait to dress like it, huh? What happened to the Hello Kitty shirts?"

You felt the blush climb your face immediately. "Hey Alexia," you chuckled. “I missed you.”

“I know, I know, it’s been so long,” she said, chuckling, patting your head as she did. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to watch your games recently. I’ve been busy.”

“Trust me, I know,” you chuckled, waving off her apology.

"Well, at least I have something to make it up to you." She handed you a small box, wrapped neatly. "I hope you like it."

You opened it and felt the same fluttering feeling in your stomach. It was a delicate gold necklace with a dainty crown charm. You looked up at her.

"Thought it was suitable," she said simply. "For the princesa."

At this point, your face was fully red, heart beating overtime. You thanked her, hugging her once more.

"I'm putting this on right now," you said, as you pulled away from the hug, already fumbling with the clasp.

She laughed. “Let me.” 

Alexia helped you with it, letting you turn from her, hands brushing your hair to the front. You bit your lip, a bit giddy she was doing it in front of your teammates. In your teenaged, delusional mind at the time, you felt it was the most romantic scene that could ever happen.

Before you could even turn around to present the necklace to Alexia, your dad materialized from the corner of the bar and clapped Alexia on the shoulder. "Ale, you made it."

"Of course." She said, greeting your dad before gesturing at you. "Xavi, your girl is a grown-up now."

Your dad looked at you with an expression that was mostly pride but also partly teasing. You knew he was going to say something that’ll embarrass you. "I know. I have to start watching out for the boys." He said, squeezing you close to him.

"Papà—" You groaned loudly, pushing him slightly, making him and Alexia laugh.

"My bad, my bad." He held his hands up immediately, grinning. "I meant to say that I have to watch out for the girls," he turned to Alexia to explain. "She came out and told me she likes women yesterday. It completely slipped my mind. again" 

"Papà!" You said in an annoyed tone, widening your eyes at your dad. He always managed to stay the stupidest and most embarrassing things about you in front of Alexia. “That's not what I — I wasn't asking you to — madre mia."

Alexia was looking at you with an amused expression, chuckling. "Congrats?"

"I'm going to actually die of embarrassment," you groaned, shaking your head.

Your dad and Alexia laughed.  He turned to Alexia  "Come on, let’s go before I embarrass my kid anymore." your dad said, still grinning. "All the guys from the club are all over there. Sandra and Patri said they’re on their way too.  Let me grab you a drink."

"One second," Alexia said, glancing toward the entrance. "I need to wait for—"

She was looking at the door. You followed her gaze.

"New girl?" your dad asked, apparently reading something in her expression. Just at the mention of it, your heart dropped.

Alexia shrugged, lazy smirk playing around your lips. "For now. I don't know. It’s nothing serious.”

“When did you become such a player, hermana,” your dad joked, squeezing Alexia’s shoulder.

The woman who walked in was obviously Alexia's age. She was confident, pretty, looking around the room until she found Alexia and crossed toward her. She greeted you warmly enough. You were seething too much to even remember her name because all you could focus on was how Alexia’s hand found the small of her back.

You just gave her a tight-lipped smile and said a curt thanks before deciding you’d rather not be around Alexia while she was with this new girl. You made your way back to your friends, who were already excitedly whispering about Alexia. You brushed them off, just wanting to celebrate and drink, pretending not to give a fuck about the Alexia even if you constantly watched her from your peripheral the entire night.

⋆˙⟡♡ By midnight, you were absolutely plastered. It started off fun – dancing with friends as you sang along to whatever song was blasting. Then very quickly, it became… not fun.

You found yourself in one of the booths, slumped over your teammate who was patting your back as you vomited into one of the empty gift bags.

Your dad appeared as soon as he heard. "Dios mío." He said, tone concerned more than mad. “I thought I told you to stop after your last shot an hour ago.”

From where you were slumped over, you gave him a weak shrug. 

Much to your dismay, Alexia came rushing to where you were. She sighed at the sight of you absolutely plastered, sweaty and vomiting into a glittery pink paper bag. 

She patted your dad’s arm. “You go settle the bill. I can drive her home and take care of her while you settle things here.

Your dad looked between you and her. "You sure?" He asked. 

Alexia nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll text you once I get her back to your place.”

Your dad said his thanks as your friends helped you up, giving you a glass of water and wiping your mouth and face. As you stood up, Alexia put your arm around her, arm holding your waist to keep you steady.

She chuckled. “Looks like the princess enjoyed her eighteenth birthday.”

You groaned in response. “Alexia, I’m sorry…”

She looked at you and gave you an easy smile. “What do you have to be sorry for? You’re supposed to be the drunkest person on your 18th.” She joked as she walked you to her car. “Mission accomplished.”

⋆˙⟡♡ The car ride was quiet for a while. You sat in the passenger seat with your head tipped back and the window slightly open. In your hands was a new plastic bag that Alexia had gotten from somewhere in her car, just in case you needed it.

"Okay," Alexia said eventually, focusing on the road. "Lesson one. You have to eat carbs before you drink. Basic stuff, princesa."

You said nothing, closing your eyes for a moment, still feeling the alcohol swirl inside you.

"We'll work on it. Like when I used to teach you those ball control drills when you were little, remember? Except this time we can practice with shots." She glanced at you. "Much more useful life skill, honestly—"

"I hate you," you blurted suddenly.

Alexia wasn’t sure of what she heard. She frowned a bit but chuckled awkwardly. “What?”

"I said I hate you." Your voice came out thicker than you intended. Perhaps it was just because you were drunk, young, absolutely stupid and too honest. "I hate you so much."

Alexia didn’t respond yet. She grew concerned, pulling over to the side of the road, just a block away from your house. “Hey, princesa, what’s going on?” She asked, tone gentle. “Is everything good?”

"How could you bring her?" It came out before you could stop it. Your tone was pained and Alexia could hear it clearly.  "To my birthday. How could you bring some girl to my birthday."

Alexia was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry. You're right, it was friends and family, I should have asked your dad first if–-"

"That's not what I mean." You shook your head, settling your back against the reclined seat, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. "You don't understand."

Alexia sighed, unsure of what to do with this outburst. She knew you were drunk out of your mind but she knew that you wouldn’t have said all of it if you didn’t actually mean it.  "Then tell me." Her voice was gentle. "You know you can tell me anything. You're like my little sister. I—"

"Stop." The word came out sharp, unslurred for once. "Stop saying that. Stop calling me that."

"YN—"

"I'm eighteen." Your voice broke on it, which was humiliating and yet, you kept going. "I'm not a little girl anymore. I haven't been for a long time and you keep — you just keep—"

You couldn't finish it. You didn't need to. 

Alexia watched you as you turned slightly away from her, wiping your tears as you did. She mouthed a curse word to herself, finally realizing what you were trying to say. She took a deep breath before continuing. 

"YN," she said, tone careful. “You know, I don’t…” She trailed off, still unsure how to face this situation.

"I know," you said. "I know, okay, I know. You don't have to say shit."

"I'm sorry." She sounded like she meant it, which made it worse. "Princesa, I'm so sorry, I didn't know at all that…”

She hesitated before continuing. “You'll find someone, you know? Someone your age who deserves you, who will treat you like an actual princess.” She said, trying to sound comforting but every single word she said felt like a dagger. “You’re a young and beautiful girl but YN, you know that I’m not— That I cannot…”

Alexia sighed, still struggling to find the words to comfort you. “I'll always be there for you, that doesn't change,” she continued. “There’ll be someone for you, princesa. I promise—"

“I don’t want anyone else,” you said, shaking your head, mascara streaking your face. “I want you.”

Alexia sighed, looking out the car, watching the road ahead. “YN, I don’t… I don’t see you like that,” she started. “You’re too young.”

“I’m eighteen, Ale.” You countered.

Alexia chuckled but it didn’t seem cruel or mocking; it just came out in disbelief. “Princess, I’m twenty-six,” she responded, trying to rationalize with you now. “We’re at such different parts of our lives. I don’t think you would want to date someone this much older. Quite frankly, if it was anyone else, I would disapprove too.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you huffed. “Absolute bullshit and you know it. I'm old enough. I know what I want.”

Alexia sighed, trying to keep patient. “You don’t understand. It’s just… it won’t work.”

You scoffed and before you could think about it. You unclasped your necklace and held it out to her. “Then I don’t want this,” you said, tone harsh. “You cannot give a girl this and act like you weren’t leading her on.”

Alexia frowned. “Leading you on? YN, it was a gift. For your birthday,” Her tone came out offended and hurt. "How is that leading you on?"

You shook your head, dropping the necklace into one of the car’s empty cup holders. “I don't want it."

Alexia sighed, growing impatient. "YN, you're being dramatic. C’mon, I thought you liked it." She said, trying to talk some sense into you. “I really picked that one out for you cause you know how much I care about you. Don’t you like it?”

You shook your head. "I want something else." You looked at her directly as if daring her. "You know what I want."

She looked back at you and she sighed, lips turning into a tight line as she leaned back onto her seat, turning away from you.  "No," she said.

"Alexia—" You tried to reach out but Alexia swatted your hand away.

"No." Her voice was harder this time, something in her composure finally frayed at the edges. "YN. I would never — you're practically my little sister or my cousin or whatever. For fuck's sake, I’m your dad’s friend.”

Alexia paused once she noticed that she was starting to raise her voice, breathing out for a moment. “I would never look at you like that." The words landed the way she probably intended them to. She didn’t want to hurt you but if that was what it took to draw the line, then that was what she was doing. "Never."

That was it. That was the moment Alexia broke your heart.

⋆˙⟡♡ After that, you left. You didn’t tell your dad what happened and you were certain Alexia hadn’t either. Which was probably why it must have come as a shock to hum when you decided that you were refusing the renewal offer from Barça B and accepted the offer from Manchester City. 

You told your dad it was for the minutes, the development, the chance to play at the first team instead of fighting to work your way up to the first team at Barcelona. All of that was true in a sense but none of it was the real reason why you left.

You spent six years in Manchester City. There, you developed, slowly became very good at football and yet, still so shit at forgetting

You only saw Alexia twice in the time you were away: when City played Barça in the Champions League. The first time you kept your head down and got through it. The second time she tried to talk to you after the final whistle and you found a way to ignore her, walking straight past her and greeting Patri instead, who also knew you from back in the day, switching kits with her instead as if trying to make a point to Alexia.

⋆˙⟡♡ Your contract with City expired this season and you had decided not to renew. Alexia was in a similar situation: contract expired and leaving her club. It seemed like you were both at a crossroads. 

You were back in Barcelona negotiating, and your dad had been beaming with excitement for two weeks at the idea of you possibly returning to Barcelona. Hence, why he was so set on inviting a bunch of friends from the club tonight at your welcome home party, as if to convince you to bite the bullet and sign with Barcelona.

That was why she was here.

And that was also why you have been anxiously looking through your outfits, settling on one that felt just right before heading to the party.

⋆˙⟡♡ You walked out into the backyard and felt her notice you before you even looked.

It happened in your peripheral vision. She was in the middle of a conversation, pausing to glance over to you eyes scanning you for a bit before excusing herself moving toward you with one hand holding a beer bottle and the other at the pocket.

She gave you a small smile. “Long time no see,” she smiled as her eyes quickly scanned you, lingering a microsecond longer where your abdomen was exposed.  "You look…”

She trailed off and you nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t seen you since we played against each other.” You said.

She chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, when you totally snobbed me,” she said. She looked at you again, almost as if she couldn’t help it. "You look good.” 

"You said that already." You said laughing

"I didn't actually say it the first time." She smirked.

You hummed, eyeing her too, dressed in a button-up top with her forearms exposed and straight-cut jeans. She looked good, even better than she did years ago.

Before you could continue talking, your dad caught sight of you, ushering you to talk to some other people from the club, clearly set on his agenda of convincing you to sign. 

Alexia drifted away too but one thing was for sure: her eyes were on you the entire time.

⋆˙⟡♡ The crowd thinned out as the night got later. 

You found yourself feeling a bit socially drained from all the talk about negotiation and signing, settling  on the old, wooden swing at the edge of the yard, beer in hand. Alexia noticed you settle there, slowly walking over to you and sitting beside you.

“So…” She said, “I heard you weren’t dead-set on Barcelona yet. Are you actually considering Atlético?"

You shrugged. "Among others,” you responded before taking another sip of your beer.

"Don't tell me you’re considering Real Madrid," she asked.

You chuckled and shook your head. "Please, my dad would actually kill me."

"Yeah, your dad and everyone else who's ever met you." She bumped her shoulder against yours lightly. "La Masia girl ending up at Real Madrid. You’d be a villain."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile.

She hummed. “So, when’s your next meeting with Barcelona?"

"Don't act like you don't already know everything,” you quipped back, looking at her and giving her another eye roll. With your dad’s big mouth, you were sure everyone at the party tonight was updated with all of your affairs. 

Alexia chuckled. "I know some things," she said. "But I don't know what you're thinking about. You don't really talk to me anymore." 

She paused, taking an exhale, before turning back to you and smiling. “Except from the last Champions League match where you called me a filla de puta on the pitch for stealing the ball from under you.” She smirked. 

You chuckled briefly as you shook your head, not saying anything more, trying to pretend that you weren’t absolutely drawn in by the familiar smell of her perfume, trying to pretend that her presence didn’t overwhelm your senses and that you wanted to absolutely just jump her.

Alexia wanted to ask.

She had been wanting to ask for years: why you didn't reply to her texts, why you walked past her after that match like she was a stranger, why every birthday greeting she sent was left on seen. 

Deep inside, she had a clue that it was about what happened six years ago, on your eighteenth birthday. But it had been years since then, you were twenty-four now. And from what she’s heard, you’ve been in several relationships. It had been years and yet, it seemed like you haven’t moved on.

"Well," she said instead, breaking the silence. "You know I'm leaving." 

She glanced at you. "You'd be the perfect replacement. The next number eleven. It’d be like passing the crown — from la reina to la princesa." She paused, grimaced slightly at calling herself la reina.

You caught it and laughed, short and involuntary.

"Hey." Her voice shifted, something in it warm and pleased. "First smile I've gotten out of you all night."

You looked away but still felt the smile linger on your face.

"Which reminds me. I have something for you, actually." She reached into her jean pocket before presenting it to you.

You looked over. It was her gift from six years ago.

"I found it in my things," she said. "Just a few weeks ago, when I was packing up. I've had it for all those years apparently. Just thought you should have it back, like a welcome back gift."

You took it from her before turning it in your fingers. It looked exactly like you remembered it – dainty and classic. You handed it back to her without saying a word.

You turned slightly, lifting your hair. Her fingers found the clasp and you felt them brush your neck as she clasped the necklace on you. The charm settled in between your collarbones.

You turned around to present it to her. Alexia smiled and her eyes stayed on your neck, smiling, before looking away to take a swig of her beer. If you hadn’t been paying close attention, you wouldn’t have noticed the clear blush on her cheeks.

Gotcha, you thought to yourself, smiling as you did.

"Wait," you said with a smile. "I can't see if it looks right."

You stood up and gestured for her to do the same. "Come inside for a second. I want to see it in the mirror."

⋆˙⟡♡ She followed you to your room because Alexia Putellas had, apparently, never learned to distrust you.

You pushed your bedroom door open and stepped inside. The room was exactly as you'd left it: pink walls, old trophies on the shelf, the same furniture in the same places. She followed you in and stopped, looking around the room as she closed the door behind her.

You walked over to your vanity, bending over to the height of it. You looked at Alexia through the mirror as you adjusted the necklace at your collarbone. Behind you, she moved slowly along the wall, taking in the old posters and framed photos.

She stopped.

She was standing in front of the poster on the wall by your bed where you had a bunch of posters and the biggest of them all was a poster of her. You never bothered taking it down and apparently, neither had your dad. She stared at it with an expression caught between flattered and horrified.

"God," she said, sitting down on the side of your bed facing, taking a swig of her beer. She grimaced as she looked at it again. "I didn't know you had this. I look so young here."

You smirked walking towards her, in the space between the wall and the bed. “Yeah, you know I was always a fan.” You said as you stood in front of her. You bent down slightly, just enough that the necklace was dangling in her eye level from where she sat. “I feel like the necklace suits me more now.”

With the way you were bending, the top you were wearing hung low, just enough to show  the lace bra you were wearing underneath. Alexia averted her gaze, pressing the beer bottle back to her lips and taking a swig. “Yeah,” she said, staring at the poster to avoid the sight of you. 

You knew that this was your chance. Before Alexia could fully lift the beer back to her lips, you took it from her slowly, urging her to look you in the eyes as you brought it to your lips, drinking from it slowly before placing it on the bedside table.

Alexia gulped and stiffened, watching you standing over her, a look playing on her face.

“Wha–” 

Before she could say anything, you moved closer to her, placing a leg on both sides of her lap and straddling her, adjusting until you were comfortably resting on top of her. “You know, I always admired you.” you said.

"YN—" she started.

"What? I always used to sit on your lap." You said it lightly, feignng innocence. “How is it any different now?”

"You know what you're doing." Her voice was careful, controlled in a way that felt strained.

"What? Cause I don’t know," You tilted your head, placing both arms around her shoulders. "What am I doing?"

She looked at you but didn't answer. Her hands were hovering around your hips, just suspended, uncertain but cautious. You smirked, seeing her neck move as she gulped.

You shifted forward slightly, closing the distance between you as your lips moved closer to her ear. "A lot has changed since that night," you said, quietly "Don't you think?"

Her jaw was tight. 

"Six years." You leaned in, your breath brushing her ear. You felt her go very still underneath you. "I grew up. I left and I tried to get over you… but I couldn’t”

Alexia shifted a bit but you didn’t budge. "But I still want you," you said. "I still..."

You didn’t continue what you were saying. Instead, you turned your head, moved closer to her and caught the edge of her ear between your lips, nipping at it just enough to garner a small inhale from the older woman. Her hands moved closer to you but she kept them hovering as if she was still apprehensive.

You smirked to yourself before you planted a gentle kiss on the space between her ear and jaw. When she didn’t move, you moved your way further down the jaw, planting slow open-mouthed kissed, following the line of it.  She stayed absolutely still, hands still hovering, not stopping you but not pulling you closer.

You moved down further, gripping onto her to keep balance. You kissed the side of her neck, sucking a bit as you did, surely leaving some marks on her. After, you pulled back just enough to look at her face.

Her expression had finally broken open into something unguarded. The pupils in her hazel eyes had doubled in size and she looked flushed, lips partly, open. You held her gaze for another moment before you took off your shirt, leaving you exposed in just a lace bra.

"YN." Her voice was different now, slightly rough at the edges. "You shouldn't—"

Before she could say anything more, you captured her lips with yours. Her lips were soft and she tasted like a mix of a light lipgloss taste and the beer she was just drinking. Alexia didn’t move at first, feeling all sorts of conflicted.

Your hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer. Finally, her hands held onto your waist, keeping you steady and her lips started to follow your lead, lip-locking as you did. She held you lightly, a sharp contrast by the firmness and intensity of your kisses and the way you clung onto her.

This was what you’ve dreamt about all those years and you couldn’t believe you were finally able to do it. 

It felt better than you could have ever imagined.

You broke the kiss, keeping your face close to her, looking into her eyes. Her eyes darted from your eyes to your lips, as if trying to make sense of what just happened. It was filled with a look of pleading. A plea or you to stop or for you to continue? You weren’t sure what it was.

You pecked her lips another time before leaving a trail of kisses from her cheek to her jaw then down her neck. After a final kiss on her exposed collarbone, you slid off her lap and sank to your knees on the hardwood floor in front of her, your hands finding the button of her jeans. She put a tentative hand on yours.

"You can tell me to stop," you said, waiting for her response. “Just tell me and I’ll stop.”

Alexia looked down at you, eyes lidded, breathing heavier than before. She blinked but did not say anything, removing her hand from on top of yours.

You smirked at her, pleased with her reaction, as you continued pulling down the zipper. As soon as they were open, you tugged at both her pants and underwear simultaneously. Alexia said nothing but the way she lifted herself slightly off the bed – just enough for you to pull the pants off of her –- told you everything you needed to know.

You took her bottoms off, parting her legs as you did, leaving her completely exposed. You subconsciously licked your lips upon seeing the wetness gathering between her thighs. A moan nearly escaped your lips as you looked at it for a moment more, letting her light musky smell waft to you, feeling yourself clench in arousal.

You moved closer, looking up to lock eyes with her as you did. Alexia’s mouth parted with her chest rising and falling with anticipation. With your hand, you parted her folds, watching the slick glisten beneath your fingers as you did. 

Alexia inhaled sharply, her hands gripping the sheets as she leaned back, tilting her head away as though she couldn't bear to watch.

“Ale,” you said, voice soft. “Please look at me.”

Alexia bit her lip before reluctantly looking down at you. 

You offered her an innocent smile. “Watch your princess,” you said just audible enough for her to hear.

You watched her neck move as she swallowed, unsure of what to do at this point. Her breath hitched once more as your mouth enveloped around her clit, forming a light suction around it. 

You kept your eyes on her, almost urging her to keep eye contract as you continued slowly to suck on it in a slow, steady pace. After you settled into it, you began using your tongue to trace her folds before slowly settling on her clit, pressing it flat against her before swiping upwards, catching her nectar, coating your tongue.

A moan escaped your lips as you tasted more of her wetness – light, salty, and slightly tangy. The moan vibrated against Alexia, eliciting an open-mouthed gasp from her. 

You continued to alternate between sucking and licking on her clit. You moved your hands from her legs to just behind her hips, pulling yourself closer. As your pace increased, you pressed yourself deeper against her, determined to make her fully unravel.

Alexia bit down on her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. One hand found your hair, gripping lightly the back of your head. She wasn’t pushing you away nor pulling you closer, just holding you as if just to hold onto something to ground her. You smiled when you felt her shift closer.

Not satisfied with her reactions, you quickened your pace, now flicking your tongue against the small, sensitive part of her clit. A full moan finally escaped Alexia as she took her hand from your hand and moved it behind her on the bed, to keep herself balanced.

You took that as a good sign, keeping your pace fast and steady. A string of small moans continued to spill from Alexia’s lips, arching her back slightly as she fully laid on your bed, brown hair sprawling beneath her.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to savor it all: the taste of her on your tongue, her warmth, the smell of her against you, the knowledge that you were finally tasting Alexia Putellas.

This was the same Alexia you always wanted, the same Alexia who never noticed you, at least not in the way you wanted her to. The same Alexia who swore that you she could never see you in that way. And here she was now, trembling beneath your mouth, choking down her sounds. It filled you with satisfaction. It felt like redemption.

You felt yourself growing more desperate with every passing second, and it only drove you forward. Alexia's moans grew louder. "Sí, sí," she murmured, her voice low and strained. “Sigue así.”

The pride in you filled your chest, urging you to go further. You pressed two fingers against her opening, letting her slick coat the tips of it before pushing in, garnering another sharp breath from Alexia. 

You glanced up at her. Her button-up top had ridden up slightly, exposing a strip of toned skin. Her stomach tightened as you began moving your fingers further into her. The sight of it was intoxicating.

Eventually, you lifted your mouth away but kept your fingers where they were. Moving up, you positioned yourself over her. Alexia looked back at you through heavily lidded eyes, mouth still parted.

Before she could react, you captured her bottom lip, kissing her with fervour as you continued to thrust into her, pounding faster into her. You could feel Alexia struggle to keep up with the kiss, her lip-locking growing sloppy, unable to focus on anything else but the pleasure, as you curled your fingers, pressing into her.

You moved your mouth to her jaw, kissing and sucking and biting. Alexia gripped the sheets, knuckles turning white as she did. She arched into you as you continued to pound against her. The sounds of your thrust against her wetness filled the room. Soon, it was becoming impossible for Alexia to keep her moans quiet. She got louder, incoherent words strung together with gasps and moans, as she felt your fingers fuck into her.

You moved closer to her, whispering onto her ear. "Ale, you're getting so loud,” you said, voice teasing and amused. “Do you want my dad to find you getting absolutely wrecked by his only daughter? The idea must turn you on, huh?" With that, you thrusted into Alexia harder, curling your fingers into her as you did. 

Alexia winced as she heard your words but could not hold back her moans as you relentlessly fucked her. She felt embarrassed and ashamed of how good it felt to be fucked by you and of just letting you do this to her. Deep inside her, she knew this was wrong, that she shouldn’t be enjoying this.

And yet, here she was, overwhelmed with pleasure and writhing underneath you.

Alexa cursed under her breath as she felt your fingers repeatedly curl into her, hitting her sensitive spot each time you entered her. She could feel the orgasm build up into her as she did. You felt her clench around your fingers, internal walls tightening.

“Yeah, Ale, come for me,” you whispered in her ear, almost taunting. “Come for your princess.”

With one more curl of your fingers, Alexia felt the waves of pleasure take over her body. She arched her back further, closed her eyes, face contorted in pleasure as she allowed the orgasm spread throughout her body.

After a few more thrusts, you pulled your fingers out of her, waited for her to open her eyes fully  before you wrapped your mouth around your fingers, sucking your fingers clean as she watched.

Alexia averted her gaze, bringing her hand to her face, pretending to wipe sweat off of it but really just so she wouldn’t have to look at you, feeling the pleasure dissipate slowly only to be replaced by frustration and shame.

You couldn’t make sense of it then but something in you just felt powerful at that moment, like the tables have finally turned. Six years ago, she turned you down and broke your heart, claiming that she will never see you in that way. And here you were now, making her eat her words, showing her that she was wrong.

"Can't believe you'd let me do that." You said teasingly as you rested beside her in bed, smiling. "Did the thought of my dad finding us make you hornier?"

Alexia frowned a bit as she heard the question but she didn’t answer. She stood up so suddenly. She ignored the mild dizziness from the sex and the sudden standing, immediately putting her bottoms on and cursing under her breath.

"Leaving me already?" You said, smirking, filled with pride.

She hated how you were teasing her. She didn't know why you were doing so when you knew she was already feeling shameful about what just happened, when you knew that Alexia was the kind of person who would generally never allow something like that to happen normally.

“Hey,” you said, sitting up slightly, watching her look around for the shoe she took off. “Alexia, c’mon.”

She ignored you.

You frowned, reaching out for her hand. “Don’t leave your princess just after she fucked you.”

Somehow, that was what sent Alexia over the edge. She stopped putting on her shoes and spun around to grab your face, clutching so hard that your lips were almost puckering. "Don't ever disrespect me like that again." She hissed at you.

Your eyes widened at the energy shift. It was your turn to be speechless. Alexia was gripping on to your face firmly. Even if you had something to say, you wouldn't be able to at how tight her grip was.

"Actually, don't talk to me ever again." Alexia let your face go, slightly pushing you to the side as she let your face go. You kept yourself steady with your hands on the bed, looking up to her.

She fully buttoned her pants. She didn’t look back at you. She stormed out of the room, slightly slamming the door behind her.

You sat there, silent. You felt a bit guilty and ashamed. You didn't anticipate her to get this angry at you. Actually, you didn't anticipate anything. 

You admittedly just acted on all the pent-up frustration from the past few years. Maybe it was just wanting to get back at her for her rejection years ago. Whatever it was, the feeling of pride dissipated quickly. You knew this was a mess you couldn't easily fix.

"Fuck."

a/n: wooop, anyway messy and didnt bother doing much proofreading but i hope u guys liked it! i so rarely write bottom!Alexia but i hope u guys liked it still. if you did, i'd appreciate a like and reblog! i also have other fics ongoing if any of u are interestedddd. anyway, lmk ur thoughts and please be nice.

(another disclaimer: the plot is vaguely reused from an old fic I have published for another fandom. I did not plagiarize because… I wrote it ahahah. Changed some things up but there are a few similarities with my old fic and this one.)

The first time you met Alexia Putellas, she flirted with the waitress while her date was in the bathroom, that pretty much told you everything you needed to know about her.

Your best friend Sofia had spent months insisting Alexia was “actually really sweet once you got to know her,” but all you saw was arrogance wrapped in expensive perfume and cocky charm. She always walked into rooms like she owned them, like people should be grateful she acknowledged them and worse she knew it.

Alexia thought you were impossible, too guarded, too stubborn, too quick to judge her before she’d even opened her mouth. Every dinner with your mutual friends ended the same way, sharp comments, eye rolls, sarcastic digs disguised as jokes.

The only reason you tolerated each other at all was because of Sofia and her wife Marta, Alexia’s long suffering personal trainer. They were disgustingly in love. The kind of couple who danced in the kitchen while cooking. The kind who left voice notes just to say “drive safe.” The kind who made everyone else at the table feel painfully single.

And then one rainy Thursday night, they were gone.

A drunk driver crossed the centre line on the motorway, neither survived.

You still remembered the way the hospital waiting room spun around you when the social worker gently explained there had been a will.

A plan in the event something happened to both of them.

You and Alexia had been named legal guardians of their one year old daughter, Olivia.

You actually laughed at first not because it was funny, because it made absolutely no sense.

“You’ve got the wrong people,” you told them immediately, voice numb, “There’s no way Sofia chose us.” But she had.

Apparently, months ago over wine and dinner and one of those stupid hypothetical conversations nobody thinks will ever matter. Who would take Olivia if something happened?

Marta had chosen Alexia, Sofia had chosen you, and together, they’d decided Olivia deserved both.

Which was how, three days later, you found yourself standing in Sofia and Marta’s apartment holding a screaming toddler while Alexia argued with a car seat instruction manual like it had personally insulted her.

“This is impossible.”

“It literally clicks in.”

“It does not click in.”

“You’re a professional athlete and you’re losing a fight to plastic.”

Alexia shot you a glare sharp enough to cut glass, “Why is she crying again?”

“She’s one, Alexia.”

“Well what does she want?”

You stared at her in disbelief, “You seriously don’t know?”

“I know footballers, not babies.”

Olivia’s cries only got louder, for one awful second, silence settled between you and Alexia, not angry silence. Scared silence, because underneath the fighting, resentment and grief, the truth sat heavily in the room neither of you knew how to do this and neither of you could walk away.

Olivia needed you.

So when Alexia finally looked at the baby trembling in your arms, eyes red from crying, something in her expression cracked. Just for a second, fear, real fear, “She keeps looking for them,” Alexia whispered quietly.

The comment hit like a punch to the chest, because she was right. Every time the apartment door opened, Olivia turned her head expectantly.

Every time a phone rang, she perked up, waiting, still waiting for her mothers to come home and suddenly your anger toward Alexia didn’t feel nearly as important as the tiny little girl caught between both of your grief.

“She liked when Sofia sang to her,” you murmured.

Alexia swallowed hard, “Marta used to bounce her when she got fussy.”

The baby hiccuped another sob, then slowly, awkwardly, Alexia stepped closer, “Can I…?”

You hesitated before carefully handing Olivia over, at first she looked unnatural in Alexia’s arms, all long limbs and uncertainty but then Olivia grabbed onto the front of her hoodie with tiny fists, and Alexia completely froze. Like that tiny hand had shattered something open inside her.

“She trusts you,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

Alexia looked down at Olivia, devastated, “No,” she said softly. “This is Marta's”

🍼

The funeral was a blur of black clothing, damp tissues, and people speaking too softly, you hated how quiet grief made everyone. Like if they lowered their voices enough, maybe it wouldn’t be real.

The chapel overflowed with people, family friends, neighbours. Marta had known half of Barcelona through work, and Sofia somehow collected people everywhere she went. There were flowers lining every wall. Olivia would never understand how loved her mothers were, at least not yet.

You stood near the back during most of it because the front row felt unbearable. Alexia sat there beside Marta’s elderly parents with Olivia asleep against her chest in a tiny black dress and white tights.

The image unsettled you more than it should have, Alexia looked… right, not polished celebrity Alexia Putellas. Not the smug woman you’d spent years rolling your eyes at across dinner tables.

Just a grieving woman holding a baby like she was terrified to let go, Olivia woke halfway through the service and immediately started crying.

The loud, confused cry of a child who didn’t understand why everybody around her smelled like sadness.

You instinctively stepped forward at the same moment Alexia stood up, your shoulders collided lightly, “I’ve got her,” you whispered automatically.

Alexia’s jaw tightened. “I know how to hold a baby.”

“That’s not what I—”

“She’s fine.”

The sharpness in her voice made several nearby people glance over, you immediately backed off, embarrassed, “Fine.”

Alexia disappeared out the chapel doors with Olivia still crying against her shoulder, you tried to ignore the guilt curling in your stomach.

🍼

The wake afterward was somehow worse, too many memories, too many people saying things like they’re in a better place when everybody knew the better place would have been here, with Olivia.

You escaped onto the balcony for air sometime after hour two, Barcelona stretched golden beneath the evening sun, beautiful and indifferent. “You always run away from parties?”

You didn’t turn around, “Only the ones where both hosts are dead.”

Silence, then the balcony door clicked shut behind Alexia. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed she’d changed Olivia into a pale yellow sleepsuit. The baby was finally asleep again against her shoulder, tiny cheek squashed into Alexia’s neck.

“You were rough on me before,” you muttered.

Alexia looked exhausted. “You think today is the day to pick a fight?”

“You started it.”

“You implied I couldn’t comfort her.”

“I implied she was crying.”

Alexia laughed once under her breath, humourless, “There it is.”

“What?”

“That thing you do.”

You frowned, “What thing?”

“You decide who people are immediately.” Alexia shifted Olivia carefully higher against her chest, “You met me once and decided I was selfish. Arrogant. Some woman incapable of caring about anyone but herself.”

“If the shoe fits.”

Her eyes flashed, “You know absolutely nothing about me.”

“And you know everything about me?”

“No,” she snapped, “But I at least know grief isn’t a competition.”

You looked away first, below you, traffic moved through the streets like normal, people walked home from work, couples laughed outside restaurants. The world kept going in the most offensive way possible. “I just…” Your throat tightened unexpectedly. “I don’t understand why they picked us.”

Alexia’s expression cracked slightly at that, “Sofia told me once,” she said quietly, you looked back at her, “She said you were the most loyal person she’d ever met.” Alexia swallowed. “She said if Olivia ever lost them, you’d love her enough to survive it.”

The words hit straight through your chest, “And Marta?” you asked softly.

Alexia looked down at the sleeping child in her arms before answering, “She said I’ve spent my whole life running from the idea of being needed.” A bitter smile flickered across her face, “Apparently she thought Olivia would change that.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, for a long moment, the only sound between you was Olivia’s soft breathing.

Alexia adjusted Olivia carefully against her shoulder, one large hand spread protectively over the baby’s back while the other rubbed tiredly over her own face. Up close, she looked wrecked.

Not the polished version the world knew. No cameras. No media training. No perfect hair or sharp little smirks.

Just grief.

“You know what the worst part is?” she said quietly after a while.

You leaned back against the balcony rail, arms folded tightly across your chest against the evening chill. “There’s a lot of options.”

Alexia let out the faintest breath of a laugh.

“She keeps doing new things,” Alexia murmured, looking down at Olivia. “Little things.” Her thumb stroked absentmindedly over the baby’s back. “Yesterday she said ‘up’ properly for the first time.”

Your chest tightened immediately.

“And they missed it,” Alexia finished softly.

The words settled heavy between you, because that was the unbearable thing about death, wasn’t it? Not just the absence. The accumulation. Every future moment stolen too.

First words. First day of school. Nightmares. Birthdays. Broken hearts.

Sofia and Marta would miss all of it.

Olivia shifted sleepily against Alexia’s chest, tiny fingers curling into the fabric of her black blouse. Alexia immediately stilled, instinctive now, protective.

You noticed it before she did, “You’re holding her differently.”

Alexia glanced up, “What?”

“The first day,” you said quietly, “You held her like she was glass.” Your throat tightened unexpectedly, “Now you hold her like she belongs there.”

For a second, something vulnerable crossed Alexia’s face, then she looked away, “She cried for an hour last night.”

You frowned slightly, “Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because it was three in the morning.”

“So?”

Alexia’s jaw shifted like she didn’t know what to do with that answer, “I drove around with her.”

“What?”

“She wouldn’t settle.” Alexia shrugged tiredly, “Marta used to say car rides worked sometimes.”

Your eyes widened slightly despite yourself, “You drove around Barcelona at three a.m with a screaming toddler?”

“It worked eventually.”

“And you didn’t think to ask for help?”

That finally pulled Alexia’s eyes back to yours, irritation flickering there again, familiar now, easier than grief, “You think I can’t do one night alone?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“It’s what you imply every time you look at me.”

You exhaled sharply, “Why are you so defensive all the time?”

“Why are you so convinced I’m going to fail her?”

The question hit harder than you expected because the answer was immediate and ugly, because you thought Alexia left people. You thought she got bored, detached, restless.

You thought eventually she would decide this was too hard and disappear, leaving you alone to pick up the pieces and maybe Alexia saw some of that on your face because her own expression slowly closed off, “There it is again,” she said quietly.

You looked away first.

Inside the apartment, laughter suddenly erupted from somewhere distant and painful. People trying desperately to force life back into a room that death had gutted clean.

You hated them for it a little, “I saw you once,” you admitted before you could stop yourself.

Alexia frowned faintly.

“At that restaurant near the beach. Maybe two years ago.” Your fingers tightened against your sleeves, “Your date went to the bathroom and you flirted with the waitress right in front of everyone.”

Realisation flickered across Alexia’s face, “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

Alexia actually winced, “She was flirting with me first.”

You stared at her flatly, “That’s your defence?”

“No.” Alexia rubbed a tired hand over her forehead, “My defence is that the woman I was with had spent three months cheating on me.”

Your mouth shut immediately.

Alexia looked back down at Olivia instead of you, “I’d found out an hour earlier.”

The silence that followed felt different, not softer exactly, but uncertain, “I didn’t know that,” you said eventually.

“You never asked.”

The honesty in it stung because she was right. You had decided who Alexia was instantly and never moved from it, but standing here now, watching her sway unconsciously with Olivia sleeping against her chest despite her own exhaustion, the picture didn’t fit together as neatly anymore.

Alexia looked over at you after a moment, quieter now, “Marta used to get so annoyed at me.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched faintly, “Only annoyed?”

“She said I sabotage anything before it can matter to me.”

“That sounds dramatic.”

“She was dramatic.”

“She married Sofia voluntarily. Obviously dramatic.”

The corner of Alexia’s mouth finally lifted properly for the first time all day, small, brief, and God, that somehow hurt worse. Because suddenly you could see exactly why Marta loved her.

The balcony door slid open before either of you could say anything else, Marta’s elderly mother poked her head out carefully, eyes swollen red from crying, “There you both are,” she said softly, “Olivia’s overnight bag is packed.”

The reminder hit immediately, overnight, because Olivia wasn’t going home with Sofia and Marta anymore.

She was going with you and Alexia. Alexia’s face lost all trace of warmth at the exact same moment your stomach dropped.

Neither of you had thought past the first few days and funeral, not really.

Marta’s mother hesitated gently. “Have you discussed… arrangements?”

You and Alexia looked at each other, absolutely not, “I assumed,” you started slowly.

“At your place?” Alexia interrupted at the exact same time.

You both stopped, Marta’s mother looked exhausted already.

Alexia shifted Olivia carefully higher against her chest. “My home has security. Privacy. Extra rooms.”

You blinked, “You live way of the city, it would take me over an hour to get back and to, to work”

“And your flat is better?” Alexia shot back. “Fourth floor with no lift.”

“She can’t even walk yet.”

“She owns a stroller.”

“She also owns me, apparently.”

To your horror, Marta’s mother suddenly laughed, a real laugh wet and startled and exhausted, but real.

You and Alexia both stopped immediately, the older woman pressed trembling fingers against her mouth, eyes filling again. “God,” she whispered shakily. “You sound exactly like them.”

The grief hit so suddenly your chest physically hurt, because you could hear it too now. Sofia’s sarcasm, Marta’s dramatic sighing, the bickering underneath affection.

Alexia looked down abruptly, jaw tight and Olivia, still asleep between both your disasters of a lives, let out one tiny sleepy sigh and reached her little hand outward blindly straight toward you.

In the end, neither of you really argued about it, maybe because you were both too exhausted, maybe because every alternative felt wrong.

So you grabbed Olivia’s overnight bag in tense silence while mourners slowly filtered out of the apartment, and an hour later you found yourself unlocking the door to Sofia and Marta’s home with Alexia standing beside you holding a sleeping toddler and looking just as hollowed out as you felt.

The apartment smelled the same, vanilla candles, laundry detergent and baby shampoo, it was normal, that was the cruelest part. Nothing inside had changed even though everything had.

Alexia carried Olivia to her room while you stood frozen in the kitchen staring at the half finished grocery list still stuck to the fridge.

Milk. Pasta. Bananas. Marta’s terrible handwriting underneath: tell Sofia to stop buying expensive tomatoes x

Your throat tightened so fast it hurt, from down the hall, you heard Alexia murmuring softly, not words exactly, just noise of comfort.

You found her eventually standing beside the crib in the dim glow of a nightlight shaped like a moon. Olivia had starfished herself across the mattress, one tiny hand curled around the ear of a stuffed rabbit.

Alexia didn’t look up when you entered, “She fought sleep,” she whispered quietly.

“She always did.”

That finally made Alexia glance over at you, “You know a lot.”

You shrugged tightly, “Sofia used to call me every day after work.” Your eyes stayed on Olivia, “Sometimes just to complain about teething.”

A small silence settled, then Alexia carefully pulled the blanket higher over Olivia’s stomach with surprising gentleness, “She snores when she’s really asleep,” Alexia murmured.

You blinked, right on cue, Olivia let out the tiniest snuffling sound in her sleep and despite everything, a breath of laughter escaped you.

Alexia looked startled by the sound, like she hadn’t expected laughter to exist anymore, neither had you.

🍼

An hour later the apartment had gone quiet, too quiet.

You changed into one of Sofia’s oversized university hoodies you found abandoned over the back of a chair because your funeral clothes felt suffocating. Then you grabbed a notepad and pen from the kitchen drawer before heading toward the living room determined to do something practical before your brain collapsed entirely.

The television glow hit first, football commentary second, and then Alexia.

She was sprawled across Sofia and Marta’s sofa like she belonged there, one arm stretched along the back cushions, beer bottle dangling loosely from her fingers while some late night La Liga replay flickered across the screen.

You stopped dead in the doorway, “Really?”

Alexia’s lips came away from the bottle as she looked over lazily, “What?”

You stared at her in disbelief, “We need to sort arrangements.”

“For what?”

You actually laughed once because surely she couldn’t be serious, “For Olivia?” you hissed, “For the fact we apparently have a child now?”

Alexia frowned slightly like that was an overreaction, “She’s asleep.”

“Yes, and tomorrow she’ll still exist.”

“She tends to do that.”

“Oh my God.” You dropped the notepad onto the coffee table harder than intended, “We need a plan.”

Alexia looked back toward the television briefly, “We have one.”

“No, we absolutely do not.”

“She needs feeding, sleeping, nappies changed—”

“She also needs stability. Routine. Clothes. Daycare.” You pointed at her beer, “Apparently one responsible adult.”

Alexia’s eyes narrowed instantly, “I came here, didn’t I?”

The room tightened immediately, you folded your arms, “That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what you implied.”

“You’re watching football while I’m trying to figure out how we’re supposed to raise a child.”

Alexia set the beer down slowly now, irritation finally surfacing properly, “And what exactly do you want me to do tonight?” she snapped, “Solve the next eighteen years in one conversation?”

“I want you to care.”

The words landed harder than intended, Alexia stared at you, then, very quietly, “That’s unfair.”

For a second guilt flickered unpleasantly in your stomach because she looked genuinely angry now, hurt.

“You think because I’m not panicking visibly that I don’t care?” Alexia leaned forward, forearms braced against her knees, “I am trying not to completely lose my mind in the house our friends are never coming back to.”

The football commentary droned softly in the background, you looked away first.

Alexia rubbed tiredly at her face before speaking again, quieter this time, “Marta used to ask me watch matches here after training.”

Your eyes flicked back toward her despite yourself.

“Sofia would complain the entire time,” Alexia murmured, “‘Nobody normal enjoys this much football.’ she'd say. But then never made us turn it off”

A tiny smile tugged at her mouth briefly before disappearing again.

You sank slowly into the armchair opposite her, exhaustion finally catching up with you.

The notepad sat untouched between you, Alexia reached for the remote and muted the television, the apartment immediately felt heavier.

After a long silence, she nodded toward the notepad, “Fine.” You looked up cautiously, “We'll do arrangements.” You handed her the pen, Alexia took it like it personally offended her, then she stared blankly at the paper for a solid ten seconds before asking, completely serious, “What does a baby actually do all day?”

You stared at Alexia across the coffee table, Alexia stared back completely seriously, “You cannot be this unprepared.”

“She eats, cries and bites people,” Alexia defended, “I know the basics.”

“She’s one, not a raccoon.”

Alexia ignored that, reaching for the notepad instead, “Fine. Explain the tiny dictator’s schedule.”

You exhaled through your nose and dragged the pen back toward yourself, “Okay. Right.” You flipped to a clean page. “We need to figure out our work first.”

Alexia leaned back into the sofa cushions with another tired sigh, “Training starts at nine most mornings. Earlier if it’s gym work.”

You scribbled it down, “And matches?”

“Depends. League games are usually evenings weekends. Champions League can mean extra training.” She paused, “Sometimes away trips are a few days.”

Your pen stopped, because somehow you hadn’t really considered that part yet. Alexia wasn’t just busy, she was one of the most recognisable footballers in the world, her schedule was chaos wrapped in sponsorships and international duty.

You looked up slowly, “You travel a lot.”

Alexia’s expression tightened slightly, defensive instinct kicking in immediately. “I can't help that.”

“I didn’t say you could.”

“You thought it.”

You chose not to answer that. Instead you looked back down at the paper, “My shifts rotate.” You rubbed at your temple, “Usually three long days a week at the hospital. Sometimes nights.”

Alexia blinked, “You do nights?”

“Occasionally.”

“What about Olivia?”

“Well I’m hardly going to leave her alone in the flat.”

Alexia frowned deeply now, properly thinking, “Could your shifts change?”

You laughed once without humour, “In a hospital? Not because my life imploded, no.”

That quieted both of you again, life imploded, it was accurate. Alexia reached for the pen this time, pulling the notepad into the middle of the table between you both, “Okay,” she said, more focused now, “We work around Olivia.”

Something about the wording settled oddly in your chest, not around yourselves, around Olivia. You watched Alexia start drawing lines across the page messily.

Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday.

Her handwriting was unexpectedly neat, “You take evenings,” you decided aloud, “Your training’s done by early afternoon most days.”

Alexia nodded slowly, “You’d have mornings then.”

“That works better with my shifts.”

“And nights when i'm away?”

You grimaced, “I can swap some.”

“You shouldn’t have to swap everything.” You looked at her sharply, surprised by the immediate response, Alexia shrugged like it was obvious, “She’s both ours.”

The words landed strangely, because suddenly this wasn’t temporary sounding anymore, not babysitting or helping out, ours.

You looked down quickly before she noticed whatever crossed your face, Alexia tapped the page again, “Match days are harder.”

“Because?”

“I’m gone most of the day to late at night.”

“Right.”

“And after games there’s media, recovery, sometimes team obligations.”

You rubbed a hand over your face, “Jesus Christ.”

Alexia snorted softly. “Exactly what Marta used to say.”

You both fell quiet again at the mention of her. The grief moved strangely between you both now. Less like a wall. More like a third presence sitting silently in the room beside you.

Eventually you cleared your throat, “Okay. So on match days, Olivia stays with me, I'll have to make sure I'm not working.”

Alexia immediately frowned, “That’s not fair.”

“It’s fine.”

“No it's not.”

“It'll have to be, Alexia.”

“That’s not the point.” You blinked at the sharpness in her voice, Alexia looked frustrated suddenly. “I don’t want her feeling like a burden”

The room softened slightly after that, because underneath the bickering, underneath all the sharp edges, there it was again. You looked back down at the timetable quietly, “Neither do I.”

Alexia rubbed slowly at the label on her beer bottle before speaking again changing what needed to be sorted, “Maybe…” She hesitated like the suggestion physically hurt her pride, “Maybe we keep her here.”

You frowned, “Here?”

“In the apartment.” Alexia gestured around vaguely. “Her room is here. Her toys. Her routine.” She swallowed once, “Everything smells like them.” Your chest tightened painfully. “She’s already lost enough. She shouldn't loose her home to." Alexia’s voice had gone very quiet now.

You looked toward the hallway instinctively, toward Olivia asleep down the corridor surrounded by traces of Sofia and Marta everywhere. The moon nightlight, tiny shoes by the door, drawings on the fridge, a life paused halfway through.

“She stays here,” Alexia said again more firmly this time, looking at the timetable. “We come and go.”

You stared at her for a long moment, and annoyingly it was the smartest thing either of you had said all night. “She’d stay in her own bed,” you murmured slowly.

Alexia nodded once, “She keeps her familiarity.”

Another nod, “No moving her between apartments every two days.”

Alexia looked relieved you understood before she quickly hid it behind irritation again, “Obviously.”

You rolled your eyes automatically, “You don’t need to act smug every time you have one good idea.”

“One good idea?” Alexia scoffed, “I’m carrying this operation.”

“You couldn’t install a car seat six hours ago.”

“And yet here I am, solving custody logistics.” Despite yourself, a small laugh escaped you. Alexia looked startled again by the sound, then smugly, “There she is,” she murmured.

“Don’t ruin it.”

“Too late.”

You shook your head but the tension in the room had shifted now, just slightly, not gone, it'll probably never gone, but softer around the edges.

Together, you both kept scribbling across the timetable for another hour, training schedules, hospital shifts, night feeds, daycare possibilities, trying to find a solution for those hours neither of you would be able to be home with Olivia.

There were arguments, Alexia insisted toddlers could probably survive on pasta and fruit pouches alone.

You informed her that counted as nutritional neglect. You argued over bedtime routines, screen time, whether babies needed tiny expensive shoes before they could even walk properly.

But underneath every disagreement sat the same desperate, fragile goal to keep Olivia safe and loved. Keep Olivia happy enough to survive losing the centre of her entire world.

Sometime after midnight, you both ended up sitting cross legged on the floor surrounded by papers and half empty mugs of coffee, staring at the chaotic timetable that now controlled both your lives.

Alexia looked exhausted, you probably did too

🍼

The next morning felt unnervingly normal, which somehow made everything worse.

Olivia woke at six thirty screaming for a banana she immediately refused to eat. By seven, there was yoghurt in your hair, one sock missing entirely, and a children’s cartoon theme tune looping through the apartment loudly enough to qualify as psychological warfare.

You were exhausted, not normal tired bone deep exhausted, the kind where your body felt heavy and your thoughts moved slower than usual.

You’d barely slept after finally collapsing onto Sofia and Marta’s sofa around two in the morning, and Olivia had apparently decided grief meant separation anxiety because every time you stepped more than two feet away from her she burst into tears again.

By midday, the apartment looked like a tiny hurricane had passed through.

Toy blocks covered the rug, one of Olivia’s stuffed animals floated face down in a mug of cold coffee.

You had somehow changed three nappies, watched the same animated rabbit sing about vegetables six times, and cried quietly in the kitchen while sterilising bottles because Sofia used to do this exact thing standing in this exact spot.

Alexia still hadn’t shown up, you checked your phone again.

2:41 PM. Nothing. No message. No warning. No call, your shift starts at three.

You bounced Olivia absently on your hip while trying not to spiral into outright fury, “She said she’d be here,” you muttered more to yourself than the baby.

Olivia shoved sticky fingers into your cheek.

“Thank you for your emotional support.”

The front door remained stubbornly silent, by 2:52, you were pacing, at 2:56, you were fully angry, at exactly 3:07 PM, the apartment door finally unlocked.

You spun around so fast Olivia startled against your shoulder and there she was. Alexia walked into the apartment wearing training gear and sunglasses like this was any other afternoon, bag slung over one shoulder, completely unhurried.

“Hi,” she said casually, kicking the door shut behind her.

You stared at her in disbelief, then at the clock, then back at her, “You’re late.”

Alexia blinked once, slowly pulling off her sunglasses, “By seven minutes.”

“Seven minutes after my shift started.”

“You said three-ish.”

“I absolutely did not say three-ish.”

Alexia dropped her bag beside the sofa, “Training ran over.”

“And you couldn’t text?”

“I was driving.”

“For forty minutes?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, “Okay,” Alexia admitted reluctantly. “I forgot”

You actually laughed once because the alternative was screaming.

Olivia immediately sensed the tension and started whining softly against your shoulder, Alexia’s expression shifted the second she noticed.

“Oh, hey Livvy,” she murmured instantly softer, stepping closer.

Olivia reached toward her automatically, the betrayal stung a little, “Unbelievable,” you muttered while transferring her carefully across.

Alexia took Olivia with practiced ease now, settling her easily against her hip. The baby immediately grabbed fistfuls of Alexia’s hoodie string with a sleepy little sigh, like she’d been waiting.

Something sharp twisted unexpectedly in your chest.

Alexia noticed your expression immediately, “What?”

“You can’t just wander in whenever you feel like it,” you snapped, grabbing your jacket off the chair, “This isn’t optional, Alexia.”

Her face hardened slightly at your tone, “I know that.”

“Do you?” You gestured around the apartment helplessly, “Because this morning Olivia cried for twenty minutes because I went to the toilet without her and I had to call my supervisor to beg for a delayed start because apparently my co-parent thinks punctuality is a suggestion.”

Alexia’s jaw tightened immediately at the word co-parent, “Training changed last minute.”

“So you call.”

“I said I forgot.”

“And I’m saying you don’t get to forget anymore!”

The words cracked louder than intended through the apartment, silence followed instantly, Olivia startled in Alexia’s arms, lower lip wobbling dangerously.

Alexia immediately bounced her gently, “Hey, hey, no, cariño…” The softness in her voice hit like emotional whiplash after the argument.

You dragged a hand over your face immediately, guilt crashing in, “I’m not yelling at you,” you muttered quietly toward Olivia.

“She knows,” Alexia said shortly, still soothing the baby.

The apartment went quiet except for Olivia’s little sniffling breaths. You grabbed your bag harder than necessary, “I can’t do this alone.”

The admission slipped out before you could stop it, Alexia looked up then, irritation flashing immediately into something sharper, “You think I’m not trying?”

“You forgot.”

“I was at training.”

“You were supposed to be here.”

“And I am here now.”

“That’s not how responsibility works!”

Alexia scoffed suddenly, exhausted and angry all at once, “Right, because you’ve been doing this perfectly?”

The comment hit instantly, your eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You keep acting like you’re the only one grieving here.”

“Oh, don’t do that.”

“You look at me like I’m one mistake away from abandoning her.”

Because you were, the silence after that was ugly, too honest, Alexia saw it on your face immediately and for the first time since all this started, something genuinely hurt crossed her expression.

“There it is,” she said quietly.

You looked away first, Olivia made another upset little noise between you both, tiny fingers tangled tightly in Alexia’s hoodie.

You suddenly couldn’t breathe in the apartment anymore, couldn’t stand the toys everywhere, the grief everywhere, Alexia everywhere.

You snatched your keys off the counter.

“Where are you going?” Alexia asked sharply.

“To work.”

“You’re upset.”

“No shit.”

“Don’t walk out like this.”

You laughed once, humourless, “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Alexia shifted Olivia higher against her chest, frustration radiating off her now too, “We’re supposed to be figuring this out together.”

“Well maybe try showing up first.”

The words landed hard, Alexia’s face closed off immediately and guilt flickered for maybe half a second before exhaustion smothered it completely.

You headed for the door, behind you, Olivia started crying properly now, distressed by the shouting, reaching one tiny hand toward you over Alexia’s shoulder.

The sound nearly stopped you, nearly, but Alexia held her tighter instead, jaw clenched, “Go then,” she snapped quietly. "Before you upset her anymore than you already have"

So you did.