#a.putellas 11

The Spaniard brings the sweating beer to her lips as you let the children pull you out onto the dancefloor. She’s always imagined what your life would look like with kids one day. All the late night talks about how many, what their names would be, and all the vacations you’d take them on. She can’t help but let her mind wander back to times like that. The memories have a soft smile rising to her lips. God, you're going to make the best mother. You so effortlessly slip into that maternal role. It’s like you have a super power with kids. They gravitate to you like a moth to a flame. Like they automatically know you’re a safe space for them to run to. That you will allow them to mess up without judgement. Because in your own words, “It’s their first time living, Ale! They can’t learn from mistakes if you never let them make one in the first place.”

She looks down at the ring sitting on her finger, it shimmers back up to her in the moonlight. That has a twitch coming to the corner of her mouth, flashes of your proposal racing back through her mind. The way you looked absolutely breathtaking in that sundress as the sunset across the water for a perfect backdrop. The colors seemed to be bursting out into the atmosphere, like the universe was blessing your union. A sign she wishes she would have taken more seriously, now. She wishes she could take back all the hurt she caused. All the pain that pushed this day back. All the decisions she made that led you both on this off road path of what you’d originally had planned. She’d do anything to change it. To somehow go back and be this transformed version of herself that only therapy has produced years ago. But she doesn’t get a redo button. She just has to live with the guilt. Has to live with the forgiveness you’ve given her– that she knows she doesn’t deserve. 

5 years ago…

The burning of your lungs screaming for air is the reminder you need to breathe. Because the second those pictures hit twitter and you saw them? It’s like your body forgot how to function as your mind tries to process what you're seeing on the shaking screen clutched in your hands. The calls start to come in almost as fast as the notifications. The generic ringtone echoing around the walls of your empty home as you quickly hit decline. The attempt doesn’t amount to much, as another name flashes across the phone before you can press the do not disturb icon. The pit growing in your stomach is what takes over eventually. So you turn your phone off, sliding down to sink into the couch as the sobs start to rack through your body. 

Your chest starts to tighten as your eyes inspect your surroundings. The walls start to feel suffocating as they reflect back the endless photos of you two on the walls. So you gather the strength to get up,grab your keys, and escape the pretty cage she’s kept you in. Because it’s only then that it finally dawns on you. Who are you if not Alexia’s lover? You’ve given up everything to be reduced to hers. There was a time when you were the most respected person in a room. At the top of your field and only planning to go up from there. But then you met the famous La Reina. She seems so charming at first. The smile, the kind eyes, the gifts, and not to mention how well versed she is in the art of manipulation. Alexia is truly, as they say, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A figure who seems larger than life. Someone that makes you feel like you should be lucky to even be in the same room as her. She seems so humble in front of the world, but you’ve seen the real her behind the mask. A walking and breathing contradiction that’s come to life.

The worst part isn’t even finding out about your fiancé's infidelity with the rest of the world. It’s that it’s not some stranger. Not some groupie, teammate, or drunk fling. It’s Carmen– your Carmen. The one person you’ve always trusted more than yourself. You saw the way she changed towards you both. How she kept getting more and more hostile towards Alexia. You’d cry to her about your relationship, and get met with anger instead of advice or comfort. Her last words before boarding the plane still ringing in your ears, “How have you let her turn you into this pathetic excuse of a woman?” 

And she’s right. You let Alexia talk you into quitting your job and becoming her glorified maid that she fucks whenever she wants. A shell of the force of nature you once were. Your whole life has turned into revolving around her and her needs. Well, her wants if we’re being honest. She doesn’t need you to be a shiny little trophy to keep on the shelf that only gets taken down when she wants to get off. But that’s how she views you. As a possession rather than the person she’s conditioned you into becoming. And even after she’s molded you to her exact ideal? It’s still not fucking enough. She never even liked Carmen. Said you shouldn’t be friends with “girls like that” after your wedding. And like an idiot– you defended her. Without hesitation. Without a second thought. The girl you’ve known since you were in diapers. The same one who helped you pick out the wedding dress sitting hidden in your mother’s closet. The same Carmen who is assigned to be your Maid of Honor. 

You don’t even realize you’ve parked at the beach until your fingers are taking the keys from the ignition. The scream that fills the car scares you at first, not sure where it’s originating until you realize it’s coming out of you. It’s a guttural cry that you weren’t aware you could even produce until now. A feeling so primal you can’t stop even if you wanted to. But you don’t. It’s somehow making you feel better, even if it’s minimal– it’s still something you can grasp onto. A fleeting flicker of hope in the sorrow that’s trying to swallow you whole. You sit like that for a while. Just letting yourself feel the hurt and the betrayal. The screams calm to a soft cry. To something more manageable. It marinates into your bones as you climb from the car. You don’t even remember to lock it as you make your way towards the shoreline. The sand doesn’t bother you as you sit, slipping your shoes off as you let your feet settle into the powdery grains.  

Then you’re reaching into your pocket with a nervous sigh leaving your lips. Fingers gripping the edges of the forgotten cellphone shoved into the crevice. It feels like the metal is burning as you pull it out and power it back on. Your fingers move with a quickness to silence the chaos, holding your breath before the little moon icon is finally pressed. A small consolation in the trainwreck suddenly thrust upon your life. You know you shouldn’t be looking at them again, but you can’t help it. Can’t help but dissect everything about the small inside look on the biggest secret kept from you. So you zoom in and you take mental notes of every single pixel that sticks out. They’re both wearing the necklaces you got them last year. And that hurts enough as is, but when you keep scrolling and see the boat pictures? That’s when the agony turns into an unbridled rage. Your other friends know. They're all sitting together under the canopy of the yacht, Carmen perched on Alexia’s lap. Like it’s her rightful spot. How can they all seem so relaxed? So unbothered by the anguish being put upon you. Just happy accomplices in this treason against your heart. That’s when you remember the ring sitting on your finger. A gold encrusted conglomerate of diamonds that feels like a fifty pound weight holding you down.

 So your phone gets shoved back into your pocket as a new objective starts taking over your mind. You find yourself rising to your feet, heart carrying you before your brain can fully catch up. The wind blows a chilly gust off the face of the water, a tinge scent of salt lingering in the air. You swear you can taste it, but that’s probably just the tears. With shaky hands you look down at the gleaming hunk of rocks. You didn’t even want a ring like this. It’s too big, too showy. It’s something more Carmen’s style now that you think about it. The recognition has a bitter taste filling up your throat, and before you can stop it– you’re throwing up all over the sandy beach before you. The bile paints a physical representation of your body rejecting the news. You rip the band from your ring finger, hand rising as you gain back your bearings. The rage boils you from the inside out. Scorching at the remnants of the love you have left for them lingering in your soul. 

It takes a lot out of you to not throw that fugly ass ring in the ocean, hand still raised and pulled back. Weighing out the options as you lower your grip back down and sliding it into your pocket. You can hear it clinking against your phone beside it as you make your way back to the car. This part of the beach is less frequented and always seems to help you clear your mind in moments of crisis. It was your place, but then Alexia had to propose to you here. A little slice of Heaven you can escape to when the world seems to be crashing down around you, and now it somehow feels tainted. She took something that belonged to you once again, and made it about her. A vicious and cruel cycle you’ve only just started to recognize.  

The tears have stopped by the time you make it back to the house, eyes on the floor as you make your way to the bedroom. You go straight to the closet, hands grabbing every single piece of your luggage to lay out across the room. There’s hard cases, duffel bags– any and everything you own. Not Alexia’s…yours. And then you start packing. Every inch of you is getting erased from the space once filled with so much promise. It seems to be going okay for about two hours, but that’s when you realize how tedious of a job it truly is to separate from someone that’s been so engraved into your life. Someone that’s been weaved into your whole being. So you grab your phone once more, hand hovering over your brother’s contact as you see the list of unanswered calls and texts. It has a wave of guilt rushing over you, dialing his number before you chicken out of asking for help. 

That’s always been an issue of yours. Always wanting to fix everything yourself. Too afraid to be too much or not enough. Something made a million times worse by Alexia’s meddling inside your head. “She clouds your judgment,” was what he had said. “You are one of the smartest people I’ve ever known…so why do you constantly dumb yourself down for her?” 

It doesn’t get past the second ring before he’s picking up, panicked voice cutting through your speakers. “Are you okay?”

“No,” You take a deep breath first. “But I will be, eventually.”

“I’m here for whatever you need, kiddo. Just say the word and I’m on the way.”

“Can you help me pack?” The line goes silent on the other end for a second. 

“You’re really going to leave her?” It comes out of his mouth like prayer. 

“I don’t know,” your voice cracks as the tears start up again. “But I know I can’t be here right now...I need space to understand what I really want.” It’s not the answer he wants to hear, but it’s a more realistic one that he expected. 

It starts to go by a lot faster with four hands instead of two, and by lunch you’ve finished every room besides the kitchen. Like the thoughtful older brother he is, he came prepared with boxes, tape, packing wrap, and sharpies. You take your stand mixer, food processor, and other little appliances you've accumulated over the years. Alexia sure as hell has never used them– let alone even know how to at this point. Professional chefs and a little birdie in a diamond studded cage at her every beck and call. Why would she bother herself with any of that? You also take all your cookbooks, and the cute dish towels with matching oven mitts sets. It might seem petty, but it’s the only control you have. “I’ll start getting these last few boxes taped and loaded if you want to start on the pictures,” it’s a simple request. One that has you nodding and handing over the tape gun before walking back into the living room. You search for one that seems like a good place to start, but every time your fingers reach out? You freeze. Hands not able to take that final step. You can’t do it. They might just be constant reminders of the biggest agony someone’s ever put you through…but they’re also reminders of the life you’ve built together, and you’re not ready to throw that away yet. It might just be the rush of emotions running through you all at once, but there’s still a tiny sliver of hope. 

So you make a decision right then. Alexia can keep the photos for now. She can keep the ring you’re pulling from your jacket pocket and setting onto the coffee table. She can come home to a museum of the life she’s throwing away. A shrine to the reminder that no matter how hard she pretends to be perfect? She’ll always be a coward until she truly puts in the work to change. You help load the rest of the boxes before climbing into the passenger seat of the pickup truck. Your brother doesn’t speak for a while. Just turns on the radio as he moves the gearshift into drive, a calming voice humming along to the local station coming in through the speakers. You roll your window down as you watch the familiar scenery move past you. A song from your childhood comes on and it pulls you from your thoughts, hand flying to turn the volume up. The nostalgia fills up the space, your voice blending with your brother’s in a truly awful way. It has you both laughing. A genuine laugh that rips from your gut as you two keep up the personal concert. 

Maybe that’s when you realize that you’re going to be okay. That your true self isn’t as buried as deep as you think. You might be starting your life over in a sense, but it’s easier to accept now than it was this morning. One chapter ending just means you move onto the next one. It doesn’t have to be the end of the story. If Alexia is willing to try? You might just give her the chance to prove it. To become the person you know she’s capable of being. 

Present Day…

A server approaches Alexia as she finishes off the beer in her hand, “Another one, Ma’am?” She gives a polite smile with a nod in response. “Sí, thank you.” She’s handed back an already popped bottle, the rim quick to gravitate towards her lips. It’s not enough to extinguish the qualms growing inside of her. So she sneakily moves through the crowd and takes up watch from the back of the room. Just taking in the atmosphere and observing you from afar. Her heart yearns to go take your hand, but she’s learned to let you have your own moments. To let you live outside of her. She knows she smothered you in the past. That she snuffed out that light in your eye once upon a time. Alexia should be focusing on the fact that it’s returned by tenfold, but how can she? Not when she’s the reason it was dimmed for so long. 

She feels like a stain on your reputation. Not that you should be embarrassed– God, no. That’s all on her. The embarrassment, the shame, and the guilt. She gladly accepts her role in the falling of the sword that shattered your lives. She’s the skeleton in your closet that haunts the narrative. How can you forgive such a devastating blow? She truly doesn’t understand it. How someone so good ever chose her. And an even bigger mystery to her? How she could do what she did to you. It’s a question that will always linger in the back of her mind. No amount of therapy has given her a satisfactory answer to that question, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever find one. Just a numbing hole her heart has to learn to grow around. 

Alexia’s pulled from her thoughts as she notices you approaching her from the corner of her eye. You move so elegantly through the sea of people. A picture perfect masterpiece that was hand picked by angels to walk this Earth. Far too good for this world that’s been given to you. “Ale,” you still smile at her like that first day. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”  Your hand reaches out to pull her in closer for a hug. It makes her want to cry or maybe even scream at you. Stop being so fucking nice to her. Stop being this person who can’t hate her. She wants to see a fire in your eyes– something volatile she can clutch onto. But she doesn’t. There’s just a peaceful haze that clings to your being. It has her pulling back from you, back straightening as your touch burns into her skin. “Just trying to stay out of your way,” she lets her eyes rack over your attire and really appreciate the details stitched into the gown. A faint smile rising to her lips, “Today is about you.” 

“Thank you for coming,” and just like that the facade is broken. The fantasy she was playing into has come screeching back into reality. “I didn’t know if you’d want to come after I didn’t respond to your and Carmen’s invite.” And there it is. The sobering mention of her real life. It’s like a flush of ice water running down Alexia’s spine. “I wasn’t ready to face either of you back then…but I can see how much you really love her,” fuck she doesn’t. She really fucking doesn’t. “I wish things would have been handled differently, but we can all see that it worked out the way it was supposed to.” No the fuck it didn’t. You’re supposed to be hers. This should be your ring on her finger and Carmen’s kids should be yours. They should have your eyes and your hair, and that one laugh that turns into a snort when you really laugh at something. Alexia gets a little nauseous at the thought of her pregnant wife at home.

 It’s like you can read her mind, because the thought of her children has you leaning in to whisper the final devastating blow. “And maybe we can start setting up playdates in about 7 months,” her throat goes dry as she looks down to see a hand caressing your stomach. “I’m 12 weeks today,” the smile that spreads across your lips is sickening. She swallows the frown that tries clawing its way out, and instead forces out a smile that feels like a stab straight to her heart. “Congratulations!” She whisper shouts, “Vas a ser la mejor madre!” (You're going to be the best mother!)

Another hand joins yours around your tummy, and it has a new wave of sickness spreading throughout her. “Did you tell her yet, Mi sol?” Misa’s pressing a kiss to your temple as she finishes wrapping her arms around you. You lean back into her chest, eyes sparkling up as you converse. “Mmhmm,” you hum into her lips as you chase her for a real kiss. “I was just asking if she’d want to set up some playdates in the near future.” (My sun?)

The Madrid player’s eyes fall back to her Spanish teammate, a teasing look on her face. “What do you say Capi, can La Reina’s kids play with our future goalie?” 

“I promise to not let Misa put them in any merch or gear that isn’t for their Mami’s club!” You chime in as you give your new wife a playful elbow jab. That giggle that haunts her halls falling from your lips. But now it’s not because of Alexia. And that might be worse than not hearing it at all. She used to beg God to let her hear it just once more, but now she’s praying it’s truly the last time. She forces a laugh out as she bounces on her feet, the tension too heavy to stand still. “Of course, I can’t wait to see them running around together.” Another lie that tastes like acid coming off her tongue. 

“Honey,” your mother is calling for you. “We need to take a few more photos real quick!” 

“Just a second!” You call back. Alexia can feel the chill from the cold look your mother gives her. Even from across the room she can read the emotions being thrown her way. “I’m really glad you came. Everything happens for a reason, and now I can see we were always meant to be in each other’s lives. We taught each other valuable lessons that forced us to become the people we needed to grow into. We might not be meant to be soulmates, but I can’t imagine a world where we aren’t raising our kids together. Tell Carmen I’d love to call her soon, and again I’m so glad you could make it!” They both pull her into a hug this time, and it takes everything in Alexia not to gag from the contact. It’s not anything on either of you– she just disgusted with herself. With her life. With the fact she’s going to go home and fuck her wife to the thought of you. Imagine the bump growing on Carmen’s abdomen is yours as she makes love to her body. Pretend that it’s your honeymoon and not the same bed you two used to share. That’s how sick she is. Can’t get rid of the bed from your old home because it’s the closest to your body she can get anymore. 

She could corner you later. Could fall back into old habits and try to seduce you into a hotel bed for the night. But she knows you’d never do that. You could never be so selfish or ill intended like her. You love Misa and even if you didn’t? You still wouldn’t betray her. So she brings the forgotten bottle back up to her lips. Chasing that vomit inducing feeling down with the free beer still being served around on trays. She opens up her phone and clicks on the Uber app, scheduling a car before sliding the device back into her pants pocket. The flashing of the camera catches her eye– gaze falling onto you and Misa feeding each other a slice of cake. Alexia chugs the rest of the liquid still keeping her here, taking one final glance at you in this moment. So happy and carefree. Dedicated to a life of commitment to someone that isn’t her. And she has to live with that. With the dirty glances and the regret that has manifested into her life. You are getting everything you deserve…a life without Alexia. One filled with support and love that isn’t conditional. 

The notification of her car pulling up is what gives her the final push to drag her eyes away from you. Once she turns she forces herself to not turn back. Because she knows that if she spares you even one more glance? She’ll throw all logic out of the window. She’d storm back in and have to kiss you one last time. Probably get her ass beat by your wife, thrown out by your brother, and ruin her own marriage all in the span of a few seconds. 

The crisp air of the night is what alerts her to the tears running down her cheeks. The wreckage of her life is completely her own fault, but she can’t help but wish this was all a bad dream. That she’d wake up and you’d still be in her arms. Laying in that god forsaken bed– but not in the apartment it resides in now…in that seaside house you picked out together. With the pretty pool and the even prettier flowers you planted around the property. But that’s not how life works. There’s no do overs or magic genies to save the day. Just the consequences of your actions and the ripples they leave that have a lasting effect. Alexia knows she can’t change the outcome, so she’s trying to leave in grace. Battling that little demon on her shoulder as she climbs into the back of the sedan waiting on her. She pulls her phone back out as the car pulls away from the venue, fingers typing in your contact before they hesitate in their next actions. A text from Carmen comes in as she contemplates:

                                                  10:14 p.m. 

From Carm <3: Lucía is refusing to sleep until you come home.  From Carm <3: Plus the baby has been moving like crazy since you left, too.  From Carm <3: Sorry to bother you, Hon. Just missing you extra tonight.  From Carm <3: I Love you. 

Alexia reads them as they come in one after another, mind made up as she remembers her therapist's words. She waits for the last message to disappear before taking one last look at your contact picture. Her pointer finger lingers over it for a second. Remembering the day she took it with a sad smile. She almost sends you one last text, but shakes her head at the thought. So with a heavy heart she scrolls down, eyes blurring as she hits the BLOCK button. She has to let you go. Not for you, but solely for herself. She can’t keep torturing herself with your presence…not when you already haunt her in memories. She's never felt more alone than in that apartment surrounded by her own family. God, even that makes her want to vomit— Carmen is her family instead of you. She opens her messages back up, tears still streaming as she works up a response to her wife.

10:21 p.m.

“Go fuck yourself, Alexia!” Those four words led you to exactly where you are right now…Bent over the sink of a nightclub, your captain behind you as her fingers piston in and out of your pussy. The LED lights of the club above you drown you in a sea of red. The color suits her, that’s all you think of as you watch her through the mirror before you. You’re drooling at how her muscles bulge out of her dress, and her hair cascades down, framing her face perfectly. Her lips reach for the back of your neck, leaving some bites in her wake as she starts fingering you faster. You swear you can feel the shake of the bass of the music inside your cunt, pushing back onto her thick digits as you chase the feeling. She’s got you wholly at her disposal, the rage burning through your veins turning into pure desire. You two always end up like this, and the girls have started taking bets on how long it’ll take you both to just finally get together.

No one can give the same spitfire back to Alexia…no one except you. She doesn’t intimidate you like most. You have no problem laughing in her face and calling her an idiot. You’ll gladly tell her off for being a bitch or going too hard on a certain team member during practice. When everyone is quiet and respectful, there you are with a smirk gracing your face and a smart-ass reply ready to be fired off your tongue. It’s like you see a challenge in getting away with pushing her buttons and driving her to the edge…Well, until she fucks you back into submission. It’s a vicious cycle that you both keep dancing around– but a welcome one at that.

“Segueix muntant els meus dits com una gossa en calor,” it comes out raspy and ends with a bite to the lobe of your ear. Her teeth pulls your skin for a second, a sharp sting settling in as she trails her lips further down.

(keep riding my fingers like a bitch in heat.)

“i’m not your bitch— ahh!” She cuts you off with a harsh thrust of her wrist. It doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you how your tits start bouncing from the force. Your hips are digging into the counter so hard you know there will be bruises there later. Little reminders of her for you to reminisce about later.

She keeps up this rougher pace, harsher words spilling from her mouth before she gets distracted by marking the back of your shoulders with hickeys. “C-Can I cum?” It comes out in a desperate plea, one Alexia can’t help but laugh at.

A deep laugh that sends vibrations through your spine. Her free hand lands a sleep on your ass before it finds home making a ponytail of your hair. She yanks it until your back is against her front, her fingers somehow reaching even deeper inside of your pussy. You can’t hold back the whimpers this time— tired of being vowed to silence by the blonde behind you. “Say it,” it’s whispered against the back of your neck.

Your brows furrow as you search your brain for what she wants, “P-Please?”

Her pace starts to slow, a smirk growing on her face shown to you through the reflection on the wall. “How nice of you, bebita. But I mean admet que ets la meva puta.”

(admit you are my bitch.)

Your wide eyes meet her sharp ones in the mirror, watching your every reaction as you process her request. “No!”

She fakes a pout at you, cooing as she kisses your shoulder before pulling her fingers out of your pussy. “That’s too bad— tenia moltes ganes de veure’t venir.”

(I was really looking forward to seeing you cum)

You turn around now that you're freed from her grip, turning her back towards you. Your arms go up around her neck, pulling her down until your lips meet. She tries to back away at first, but your lips are like a drug to Alexia. Always there to drag her back down into this spiral of fighting, fucking, and repeat. She groans into your mouth when one of your hands pulls at the hair around the nape of her neck. She responds with a bite to your lower lip, dragging it away as she pulls back to put a hand back around your neck. Her other one falls to your waist, pushing you until your back hits the counter. It takes about 0.2 seconds for her to lift you up and set you on it, your legs spreading to make room for her on instinct. Her fingers find their way back inside you, three slipping in this time instead of two.

A shuttered gasp escapes you as she stretches out your cunt. You can hear the sounds of it now— the wet noises filling up the space over the music as Alexia uses her body weight to help her pound her fingers into you. She squeezes her hand around your neck, cutting off your air as she fucks you stupid. Your high is approaching faster this time, hurling towards you at the spread of light. Your legs start to shake and your pussy tightens around Alexia’s fingers.

You don’t even have to say anything for her to know you’re on the edge, she knows your body better than you at this point. Every flinch, twitch, grind, gasp, or whimper has a special code that only Alexia knows how to crack. She leans your foreheads together, “Say it or i’ll leave. Et deixaré aquí gotejant i necessitat.”

(I’ll leave you here dripping and needy.)

You find your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, trying to use every muscle in your body to hold back your orgasm as you debate the decision in your head. But as you feel her starting to slowly pull out, a loud declaration falls from your lips. “I’m your bitch! Sóc la teva petita puta!”

(I’m your little bitch!)

She surges forward at that, crashing your lips back together. “Go ahead, Cariño.”

Alexia swallows up your moans as you two keep kissing, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as she fucks you through your orgasm. You’re about to stand up and put your panties back on when she pushes your chest back. She slides your panties off around your ankle and tucks them into her purse sitting beside you on the counter. “W-What are you doing—”

“Shut up!” She growls out as she starts lowering herself between your spread legs, hands wrapping around your thighs as she keeps you held in place. “Estic intentant menjar el meu sopar.”

(I’m trying to eat my dinner.)

She licks a teasing strip up between your folds, avoiding your clit as she leans forward to press a gentle kiss to it. Alexia can feel your pussy throbbing against her puckered lips and she can’t help but groan. A hand tangles in her hair as she dives into your cunt, pulling at the perfectly styled strands as she works your overspent hole with her tongue. And as she pushes your hips further back onto the bathroom counter, your back hitting the cold glass of the mirror, you can only think one thing: