holyblonded - Tumblr blog

holyblonded · 5 days ago

Text

sienna | alexia putellas

pairings: alexia putellas x reader

summary: you and alexia have an interesting relationship, which only gets weirder when a baby is dropped off at your doorstep

notes: semi inspired by the marías song so i recommend listening while reading 🤗. fun fact, i changed the person this was with like 8 different times.

The relationship between you and Alexia Putellas was one most people described as… complicated. The two of you had always ended up toe-to-toe. Back in youth teams when Alexia wore Espanyol colors and you pulled on the Barcelona shirt. At eighteen, when you went to Manchester City and came face-to-face with her on the Champions League stage. Then in 2019, when Lyon and Barcelona clashed and you lifted the trophy after beating her.

Despite the constant rivalry, club, national, even personal, but, there was always something magnetic between you. Friends, yes, but also something more. Something in the long stares, the unspoken words, the stolen moments. Everyone around you knew, though no one dared to define it.

No matter where your career took you—Manchester, Lyon, Barcelona again, you and Alexia always found each other. And when you finally returned to Barcelona in 2022, the connection only intensified. You shared more than just a pitch now. A city, friends, a home, and late nights that blurred the lines you both pretended not to see. Tonight was no different.

“Fuck, Ale. Let me open the door,” you muttered as you fumbled with the keys to the apartment you shared. Your body leaned awkwardly against the wood, Alexia pressed flush against your back, her mouth relentless on your neck.

Barcelona had just advanced to the Champions League semifinals. Drinks flowed freely, celebrations endless, but you and Alexia had slipped away early. You had told yourself it was because you wanted rest before visiting Eli and your mamá the next day. But Alexia clearly had other plans.

You finally got the door open, only for Alexia to shove you inside and slam it closed, trapping you against it.

“Can’t wait,” she whispered hotly against your lips, her voice ragged with alcohol and desire.

You laughed breathlessly, hands sliding into her hair. “You never can.”

Her mouth found yours, ever fierce, hungry, claiming. The kind of kiss that stole your balance and made the room blur. Her tongue brushed yours, her teeth nipped at your lower lip, and she swallowed the soft sound that escaped you. Your fingers curled into the back of her shirt as if she might vanish if you let go.

“Alexia—” you tried, though it came out more as a sigh than a protest.

She pulled back just enough to smirk, her forehead pressed to yours. “What? You don’t want this?”

“You know I do,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut as her hand slid up under your mini skirt. “That’s the problem.”

Her lips ghosted over yours, teasing, before she kissed you again, slower this time, deeper. The kind of kiss that said more than either of you dared to admit out loud.

Minutes, maybe hours, passed that way—pressed against the door, tangled together in heat and want. When Alexia finally broke the kiss, her lips were red and swollen, her voice husky.

“Bedroom,” she murmured, her voice almost a plea.

You didn’t argue. She grabbed your hand and pulled you down the hallway, barely giving you time to kick off your shoes. By the time you reached her room, she was on you again, pushing you down onto her bed. You landed in a heap of laughter and breathless kisses, your hands roaming, her body slotting easily against yours.

“This isn’t sleep,” you teased against her mouth, your words muffled by another kiss.

“Shut up. You love it,” Alexia muttered, grinning into the kiss. Her hands framed your face, her thumb brushing your cheek tenderly even as her body pressed you deeper into the mattress. That duality was so her. Fierce yet soft, dominant but still gentle.

Your laughter faded into sighs as she kissed you again, slower now, every movement deliberate. Her hand lingered on your waist, fingertips teasing just beneath the fabric of your shirt. Your own hand traced down her back, memorizing the dip of her spine, the heat of her skin.

It was always like this, somewhere between play and passion, between comfort and chaos. Too much for ‘just friends.’ Too undefined for ‘lovers.’ But it was yours.

Later, much later, when the heat of the night blurred into a quiet haze, you lay tangled in Alexia’s sheets, her arm draped across your waist. She was half asleep, hair messy, breathing even. You pressed a kiss to her shoulder, letting yourself love her in silence, because neither of you was brave enough to put words to what this was.

And yet, everyone already knew. Your England teammates, her Spain ones, the teasing was relentless. Everyone joked that you were practically together. You denied it, she deflected it, but your linked hands, your stolen kisses, your shared home said otherwise.

Because the truth was simple. Whatever name you gave it, you and Alexia always found your way back to each other. And tonight, like so many nights before, you let yourself fall into her, again and again.

You swore the two of you hadn’t been asleep for more than two hours when a sharp knock rang through the apartment. You blinked groggily, peeking at the alarm clock that read 4:23 a.m.

“Alexia, someone knocked,” you whispered, nudging the midfielder beside you.

She only groaned and pulled you closer, her arm slung tightly around your waist like you were her personal teddy bear. “It can wait, amor. Sleep.”

You tried. You really did. But the unsettling twist in your stomach wouldn’t let you. With a sigh, you untangled yourself from Alexia’s warmth, ignoring her disgruntled sound. “Give me a second.”

You slipped on one of her oversized shirts and a pair of panties before padding softly down the hall. The silence was heavy, whoever had knocked didn’t try again. If anything, that made your stomach churn harder. You leaned into the door, peeking through the hole, and your breath caught.

Without thinking, you unlocked it and pulled the door wide open. There, on the doormat, was a busted-up car seat. Inside, swaddled in a blanket far too thin for the night air, was a baby, no more than six months old.

Your knees hit the ground instantly. “Oh my god…”

The baby blinked up at you, her eyes impossibly big, reflecting the pale light of the moon. Soft curls framed her face, curls that looked a little too much like your own. She didn’t cry, she didn’t even fuss, just stared, wide-eyed, like she was trying to memorize the shape of you.

Beside her was a folded note. Your hands shook as you opened it.

Dear mana,

Please take care of her. Her name is Sienna Maite Santos. Her birthday is February 4, 2022. She's six months old now. You know I can't take care of her. She's already legally yours. This is for the better. You and Alexia can do so much more for her. I'm so sorry, mana.

Love, Izabell

Your throat closed up as the words blurred on the page.

“Fuck you, Iza,” you whispered, tears threatening. You pressed your lips together as the memories came rushing in. Your father’s illness, the move to Spain for his treatment when you were four, the way football had become your anchor while your sister drowned herself in substances. You hadn’t seen her sober in years. Now she had left an extension of herself, of you, on your doorstep.

You lifted the car seat carefully, carrying the baby inside. She stared up at you, silent, curious. You felt frozen, conflicted, lost in the weight of it all.

That’s when you heard Alexia’s footsteps.

“Holy shit—what is that?” she gasped, suddenly very much awake.

Wordlessly, you handed her the note. Alexia scanned it quickly, then dropped it to the table and came to sit beside you on the couch. Her hand slid to the back of your neck, grounding you.

“Hey,” she said softly, her Catalan lilt low and steady. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll be here, no matter what. We’re going to figure this out.”

Her words cracked something in you. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you turned into her chest. “I don’t know what to do, Ale. I can’t let her go. She’s blood. But I’m not ready. I don’t even know how to do this, hell—my frontal lobe still has a whole year to develop fully. Mamãe is too old to care for a baby. And if I don’t…” You hiccupped, the words breaking apart. “She’ll end up in the system. I can’t—”

“Hey.” Alexia tipped your chin up, her eyes fierce, unwavering. “I said we. We’re going to figure this out.”

Something in the way she said it, the certainty, the steadiness, slowed your breathing. You nodded, wiping at your cheeks. “Yeah. Alright.”

Alexia kissed your temple, lingering there, before glancing toward the baby who had kicked her blanket to the floor. “You know,” she murmured, “she really looks like you. Like she got no features from Iza.”

A shaky laugh escaped you. You reached down, brushing your finger against Sienna’s soft cheek. She leaned into the touch instantly, her little lips parting in something that could almost be a smile.

“She really does,” you whispered.

The hours that followed blurred. You and Alexia laid out on the couch, the baby in your arms, trading her back and forth as if you’d been doing it your whole lives. You tried to feed her a bottle from the stuff Alexia had run out to get from the corner store after Sienna’s piercing cry. The formula clumped, you spilled half of it down your shirt, but Sienna latched eagerly, drinking like she trusted you without hesitation.

When she was done, Alexia insisted on burping her, holding her upright against her chest. The sight made your chest ache. Alexia’s strong hands cradling the baby’s tiny body, her voice a soft murmur in Catalan as she swayed gently until a delicate burp escaped.

“Perfecta,” Alexia whispered, pressing her lips to the crown of Sienna’s curls.

You felt your heart twist painfully. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy to love her. To love them.

At one point, Sienna fell asleep against your chest, tiny fist curled into your shirt. You stared down at her, tears slipping free again.

“She didn’t ask for any of this,” you whispered. “She deserves better than being left at a door.”

Alexia leaned against you, her arm wrapped around both you and the baby. “Then we’ll give her better. Together.”

You turned to her, searching her face. “Ale… are you sure?”

She smiled, it could only be described as small, soft, but most of all certain . “You’re not in this alone. You’ll never be in this alone.”

And in that moment, as Sienna slept soundly between you, you knew the decision had already been made. She was family. She was yours. And somehow, impossibly, she already belonged to both of you.

After a very long phone call with Eli and your mother, Maite, the two of them gave you and Alexia a list that seemed endless. Crib, car seat, formula, diapers, bottles, wipes, clothes, a highchair, baby monitors—the list went on and on. The two women promised they’d be over later that day, Alba tagging along too, but for now, it was time to shop.

Normally, retail therapy was your happy place. Wandering aisles, picking things out, imagining how they’d fit into your life. But shopping with Alexia had a way of ruining the peace it gave you.

“Amor, look!” Alexia’s voice carried over the aisle as she held up a strange little gadget, a plastic bear with beads inside. “It tells you if the bath water is the right temperature. Let’s get it!”

You glared. “Alexia. Put it down.”

She pouted, but obediently set it back. The cart you were pushing was already stuffed full of baby items, and the car outside was crammed to the brim too. In the span of three hours you had already bought a crib, a highchair, a brand new car seat, two strollers, a carrier, and one of the most high-tech baby monitors on the market because Alexia had done a five minute Google search and declared, “Only the best in this house and for bebita.”

Which, of course, also explained the ridiculous collection of enrichment toys she had snuck into the cart when you weren’t looking.

You sighed, maneuvering the cart toward the baby hygiene aisle. “We came here for shampoo, conditioners, lotion, sunscreen, some more clothes, and books. That’s it. The cart’s already full of stuff you snuck in.”

“And a mini football,” Alexia added with total seriousness, also completely disregarding the fact that you knew she was adding things to the cart.

You stopped dead in your tracks, staring at her. “She’s six months old, Alexia. She can barely even sit up without support.”

Alexia shrugged, unapologetic, as she thumbed through a rack of baby clothes. “So? We have to start her young.” She suddenly gasped, pulling something free. “Amor, look at this!”

You didn’t even have to ask. She was holding up a tiny Barcelona jersey, much to big for the size Sienna was.

“Ale,” you groaned. “Focus, please.” You dropped Goodnight Moon into the cart, hoping she’d take the hint.

“But look how cute this is,” Alexia begged, practically shoving the shirt against your chest.

“You just like it because it’s a Barcelona shirt,” you hissed, swatting it away.

“What’s your point?” she said smugly.

You threw your head back with a sigh. “Put it in the cart.”

Her grin lit up the entire aisle. She kissed your cheek once, twice, three times in rapid succession. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

By the time you finally got through the checkout line, your wallet—Alexia’s actually—and your patience were both exhausted. But when you strapped Sienna into her new car seat and she gave a soft little coo, you felt your heart melt all over again.

On the drive home, Alexia drove like she was chauffeuring royalty. She stayed well below the speed limit, swerved around every pothole like her life depended on it, and braked so gently you hardly felt it.

“Was that turn too hard for her?”

“Did she feel that bump?”

“That braking wasn’t too rough, was it?”

The questions didn’t stop until you pulled into the apartment parking lot. You could only shake your head, though deep down, you adored the way Alexia was already treating Sienna like she was hers too.

As soon as you stepped inside, with Sienna still nestled in her car seat, you were met with gasps.

“Is that her?” your mother whispered, her hands covering her mouth. Eli’s expression was almost identical, while Alba’s eyes softened with awe.

You nodded, setting the carrier down and lifting Sienna into your arms. “Sienna Maite, meet your Vovó and Vovó Eli.” (Grandma and Grandma Eli)

Your mother burst into tears at the sound of her own name carried in the baby’s middle name. “Oh, Iza…” she choked.

Eli wiped at her eyes, smiling through it. “Dios mío, she’s beautiful. Look at those curls.”

Alba tilted her head, smirking. “She looks just like you, somehow. Especially the eyes.”

Behind you, Alexia stood close, her smile soft as she looked down at Sienna, who turned her gaze up at Alexia with a trust that made your chest ache. The three of you were so wrapped in your bubble you didn’t even notice Alba snapping photos, or the knowing glance your mother and Eli exchanged.

You shifted Sienna carefully. “Do you want to hold her?”

Your mother reached out with trembling hands, cradling the baby to her chest. Tears streamed down her face as she rocked Sienna gently. Eli leaned in beside her, brushing a finger along Sienna’s cheek. Alba stood over them, her phone already out again, capturing every moment.

Eventually, everyone sat, and the atmosphere turned heavy.

“What happened?” Eli finally asked.

You let out a rough breath, Alexia’s hand immediately finding the small of your back. Her touch was grounding, steady.

“Around four this morning, I heard a knock. When I opened the door… she was just there. In a busted car seat, with nothing but a thin blanket that reeked of weed and liquor. Iza left this note.” Your voice cracked, and Alexia pulled you closer. “She said she couldn’t look after her. That she’d already made her legally mine. She just…she left her and ran. And I don’t even know how she pulled that off legally.”

The room went silent. The air was heavy and suffocating. The kind of silence where everyone is mourning something different.

“I feel lost,” you admitted, dragging a hand down your face. “But I don’t think I can let her go. She’s… she’s mine. She’s family. And yet—” You faltered, chest tightening. “It feels like I lost Iza a long time ago.”

Saying it out loud made your stomach twist. Iza was your big sister. She used to braid your hair before school, taught you how to take selfies, do your edges, drag you out to the park. You used to be inseparable. And now… now she was a ghost, leaving behind only her daughter.

Your mother carefully passed Sienna to Eli, who cooed at her in soft Catalan. “Filhota,” she said gently, “you are doing amazing. You hear me? In just a few hours, that baby already trusts you. Don’t doubt yourself.” (Daughter)

Your lip trembled. “But what about Iza? What if—what if she comes back? What if she wants her back?”

Eli shook her head, rocking Sienna softly. “We’ll figure Iza out later. We can’t force her into rehab again. We’ve tried. But that’s not today’s fight. Today’s fight is this little one, and she’s safe with you. That’s what matters.”

Tears stung your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that day. You could only nod.

Alba broke the heaviness with a smirk. “Who would’ve thought two lesbians having a baby before marriage?”

You and Alexia both turned to glare at her.

“Shut it, idiota,” Alexia growled.

Alba laughed, throwing up her hands. “Relax. I’m just saying, you don’t have to do this alone. You have us.”

And for the first time all day, the silence in the apartment felt light again. You looked at Sienna, now giggling softly in Alba’s arms, and felt something shift inside you. She was precious, she was fragile, but most importantly she was yours. And maybe you hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t been ready, but as Alexia’s hand found yours and squeezed gently, you knew one thing for certain. You weren’t letting her go.

Hours blurred as after your family left. You were rocking Sienna when she finally fussed for a bottle, fumbling through cupboards to find the formula you bought. Alexia, despite being hopeless at assembling the bottle, took over changing duties. Cleaning her up with precision you didn’t know she had.

“She likes you,” Alexia whispered when Sienna settled against her chest, her tiny fist curling into Alexia’s shirt. The tenderness in Alexia’s face nearly shattered you.

“She doesn’t know us,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

“Babies know,” Alexia countered. “She knows she’s safe.”

And maybe she did. Because when you finally tried to lay her down, she cried until you scooped her back into your arms. Then she quieted, those observant eyes staring up at you as though memorizing your face.

You felt completely terrified and overwhelmed, but the love you held was certainly undeniable.

It had been a week since Sienna came into your lives, and somehow, the three of you had already found a rhythm. The Winnie the Pooh themed nursery was finished. Light sage green walls, one covered in wallpaper of a map of Winnie the Pooh world, with little hand painted bees, and cute decals of characters, a crib tucked into the corner, a rocking chair by the window. A mobile of honey pots and tiny soft animals spun slowly overhead, and Sienna had taken to staring at it with fascination with her Winnie the Pooh and Eeyore plush tucked next to her.

This morning was no different. She lay on the changing table, babbling away while you wrestled her into a tiny shirt.

“Arms up,” you coaxed gently, laughing when she flailed instead. “No, not karate chopping me, just arms. You very smart, mi nena. It’s like you know what I’m saying.”

She squealed, gummy grin spreading across her face, and you couldn’t help but mirror it.

From the kitchen came a loud hiss followed by a curse in Catalan.

“Alexia! Are you burning the eggs?” you called out, shifting Sienna’s little legs into her shorts.

“Don’t worry about it!” Alexia shouted back, far too quickly.

You raised your brows. That was never a good sign. Sure enough, less than a minute later came a clatter of pans, the sound of running water, and then—

“Maybe we should stop at the café instead!”

You didn’t even bother answering. Just rolled your eyes and leaned close to whisper conspiratorially to Sienna, who was now trying to gum her sun hat. “Can you believe her? Alexia cannot cook an egg to save her life.”

Sienna let out a delighted giggle at the sound of your voice, grabbing your finger with surprising strength.

Moments later, Alexia appeared in the nursery doorway, slightly breathless but smug. “Took my bag, your bag, and Sienna’s bag to the car.” She dropped into the rocking chair, brushing hair from her forehead. “Are you two ready?”

You turned, scooping Sienna up and holding her in the air like she was being presented to the world. Her sun hat slid down over her eyes, and she blew a wet raspberry.

“She’s ready.”

Alexia softened immediately, eyes crinkling as she stood to press a kiss to Sienna’s chubby cheek. “Vámonos, princesa.”

No one expected you and Alexia to stroll into training with a baby on a random Tuesday. Well Jonatan did, since Alexia had given him a heads up, but the rest of the team? Not a chance.

You had barely stepped through the door when Lucy Bronze stopped mid lace up, staring.

“What the everlasting hell?” Her gaze dropped to the baby strapped snugly against your chest, peeking out from under her sun hat. Sienna blinked back at her, calm and curious.

“Whose baby did you steal?” Lucy demanded, getting to her feet. “And why does she look like you?”

“This is Sienna,” you said evenly, tightening your hold just a little. “I have custody of her now. She was Iza’s.”

The room went quiet for a moment. Those who knew about your sister exchanged looks, and even those who didn’t seemed to understand enough not to push.

Lucy’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit.” Then, softer, “Can I?”

You hesitated for a beat, then nodded, easing Sienna into her arms. Lucy, uncharacteristically nervous, adjusted her hold until Sienna settled against her shoulder. Almost immediately, Sienna’s little fingers reached for Lucy’s ponytail.

“Holy crap, you have a kid,” Lucy whispered, rocking her gently. “I have to tell Georgia.”

From across the locker room, Keira burst into laughter. “Imagine the headline—Lionesses vice-captain with child?!”

“I hate you two,” you muttered, fighting back a smile.

Training itself was chaos in the most unexpected way. You and Alexia had set up a whole little area for Sienna both inside and outside: playmat, cooling fans, a shaded spot with toys, and a cushioned pad to keep her cool. It should have been enough. Except apparently the entire Barcelona Femení squad decided her care was a team effort.

Lucy kept readjusting the fans. Irene fussed with her sun hat like it was a crown. Keira pretended she was above it all but crouched nearby more than once, murmuring to her in a mock-serious voice. And Vicky, well, Vicky was gone.

The sixteen year old had hovered from the moment she saw Sienna, her whole face lighting up. By lunch, she had completely stolen her.

“Vickyyyy,” you called halfheartedly as Sienna happily sat in the younger girl’s lap, smacking her hands against Vicky’s cheeks. “Other people want to be with her, you know.”

Vicky just grinned, kissing the top of Sienna’s head. “She likes me. Don’t you, pequeñita?”

Sienna squealed like she understood.

You leaned against Alexia, who had her arm loosely around your waist, and whispered, “We’ve lost her. Completely lost her.”

Alexia pressed her lips against your temple, smile tugging at the corners. “It’s good for both of them.”

And it was. Watching Vicky soften, seeing Sienna light up for every teammate who peeked over the playpen wall, feeling the team close ranks around her was something you hadn’t realized you needed.

When you took your turn holding her later, rocking her back and forth while she babbled against your chest, you caught Alexia watching you with a look that made your heart stop. Soft, proud, overflowing with something that went beyond words.

You mouthed, “What?”

She just shook her head, smiling. “You two are everything.”

And as Sienna finally drifted off, tiny fists curled into your shirt, you knew she was right.

The shrill ring of your phone pierced through the quiet of the night, dragging you from the edge of much needed rest. Training had run long, your legs still sore from the session, and the adjustment of having a baby in your home, had left you more exhausted than ever. You groaned, fumbling for the phone on your nightstand.

Your eyes flickered to the baby monitor out of instinct. Sienna’s tiny chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, her face relaxed in sleep, the soft glow of the screen a small comfort. You pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” you croaked, your voice low.

“Hi. Is this the emergency contact of Izabel Gisele Santos?” The voice was professional, detached, the kind of tone you knew was only ever attached to bad news.

Your body snapped upright in bed, heart dropping into your stomach. “Yes—yes, this is she. This is her sister. What’s going on? Please, tell me.”

“This is Hospital Universitario La Paz. We regret to inform you that your sister, Izabel Santos, has passed away. The cause is a suspected drug overdose.”

The world stopped. Everything froze, the silence in your ears louder than the woman’s words. It was like someone had knocked the air from your lungs. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think. Izabel. Your sister. Gone.

The woman’s voice continued, almost as if from underwater, until one word sliced through the haze. “…We are aware of her daughter, Sienna Santos. We are attempting to locate her and—”

Your throat tightened. “I—I have her. Sienna, I mean. Iza… she dropped her off here last week and then she disappeared. I didn’t hear from her again.”

There was a pause on the other end, the faint sound of typing. “I see. Thank you for letting us know. I’ll inform the team handling the case. Child Protective Services will be contacting you soon.”

Her voice carried on, but you couldn’t process another word. You numbly ended the call, your hand trembling as you set the phone back down.

Your sister was dead. But hadn’t you lost her years ago? You remembered the empty seat at your father’s funeral, the way you’d stood beside your mother, broken but still holding everything together, while Iza had disappeared into the haze of her addiction. You’d cried for her then. You’d let go of the sister you’d known back then.

And yet, now, this finality hurt in a way you weren’t prepared for. You blinked hard, staring through blurry vision at the baby monitor. Sienna slept peacefully, tiny fists curled against her chest. So innocent and unaware.

The tears spilled fast, hot against your skin as you buried your face in your hands. She had no mother now. You couldn’t even imagine the loneliness of growing up without one. You knew that pain too well. You knew the hole it carved. And you swore in that moment you would never, ever let her feel it.

A sharp knock startled you. Before you could answer, the door opened, and Alexia appeared, Sienna wriggling in her arms. The baby was wide awake now, cheeks flushed, eyes big as they darted around the room.

Alexia’s gaze immediately landed on you, your tear-streaked face, your hunched shoulders, and she rushed forward. “Cariño, what happened? Are you hurt?” Her voice cracked with urgency.

You shook your head, voice breaking as you whispered, “Iza is dead.”

Alexia froze mid-step, eyes widening. “What?”

“She died, Alexia.” Your chest heaved, your voice trembling. “The hospital in Madrid called me. They said it was a suspected overdose. And at first I was just—just shocked, but then I thought about Sienna and—” Your words caught in your throat, cut off by a sob.

Sienna babbled softly from Alexia’s arms, reaching her little hands toward you. Without hesitation, Alexia passed her to you. You gathered her close, adjusting her against your chest like second nature. She immediately latched onto your necklace, tugging at it and gurgling, blissfully unaware of the storm around her.

“She doesn’t even know,” you whispered hoarsely, rocking her gently. “She doesn’t know her mom is gone. How do I tell her? How do I raise her without her knowing how much she’s lost?”

Alexia crouched in front of you, her hand finding your knee, grounding you. “Mira,” she said softly, her Spanish accent wrapping around the word like warmth, “what matters right now is this little girl in your arms. Sienna has you. She has me. She has us. And she is never going to feel alone, not for one second.”

You looked down at the baby in your arms, her tiny fingers wrapped around your chain, and fresh tears slid down your cheeks. “But what if—what if I’m not enough for her? What if—”

Alexia shook her head firmly. “No. Stop. You are more than enough. You’re her tía, her blood. And I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Between the two of us, she will have more love than she’ll know what to do with.”

You tried to protest, but Alexia’s voice grew stronger, steadier, her conviction unshakable.

“She has our family. Maite, Alba, my mamá—they will all love her like their own. She has the team. You know how they are, they’ll fight each other to babysit her. She already has a village waiting for her.”

Sienna let out a high-pitched squeal, smacking her hand against your chest, and Alexia leaned forward, brushing a kiss against the baby’s forehead. Then she pressed her lips to your temple, whispering against your skin.

“All three of us are going to get through this. She’s ours now. And I don’t care what CPS says or what paperwork we have to fight through. We’re keeping her. She’s not going anywhere.”

You let out a shaky laugh, clutching Sienna tighter, the weight of Alexia’s certainty anchoring you.

“She’s ours,” you echoed, the words trembling but real, solidifying something in your chest you hadn’t dared to name until now.

Alexia smiled, her hand sliding up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears. “That’s right, cariño. Ours.”

Sienna gurgled again, kicking her little feet like she understood, and for the first time that night, you felt something like hope.

The CPS visit approached faster than you expected. Because of the severity of the situation, everything was being fast tracked. Meaning right after practice, you and Alexia had cleaned the apartment top to bottom in preparation for the visit the next day.

While both of you were stressed, you definitely showed it more. The apartment was spotless, but you kept insisting on going over it again and again, adjusting pillows, wiping counters, even straightening books on the shelf.

“Amor, calm down,” Alexia called from her spot on the couch, watching you scrub at the already-gleaming floorboards. “I think if you mop the floor again it’ll create a hole.”

You huffed, putting the mop back in the closet. “I just need everything to be in order, Ale. And you know that.” You immediately started adjusting the dining chairs, nudging them an inch left, then right.

Alexia stood, padding over and wrapping her arms snugly around your waist. Her lips pressed to the back of your neck, warm and deliberate, and she slowly kissed her way upward.

“Alexia,” you warned, sighing despite yourself.

“Amor,” she mocked playfully, planting a kiss on your cheek. Then she leaned back with a grin. “Fine. We go to bed, no funny business.”

You held out your pinky, eyes narrowing. “You promise?”

Her smile softened into something tender as she linked hers with yours. “Prometo.” (I promise.)

After much insisting, Alexia managed to sneak into your bed that night, claiming you ‘needed comfort.’ And though you rolled your eyes, you let her stay.

The next morning was a blur. You dressed Sienna in a long sleeve shirt with a purple overall dress—adorable, at least until she decided to mash her banana slices all over the front. By the time you were wiping her hands and face clean, the doorbell rang.

“I got it,” Alexia said quickly, darting over. She opened the door and exchanged greetings with the social worker, Sara, a woman with kind eyes and a professional air.

“Thank you for having me,” Sara said warmly. Her gaze flickered over the tidy apartment with approval before landing on you. “I’m a big fan, by the way. My daughter wants to be a forward because of you.”

Your eyes lit up instantly as you shifted Sienna on your hip. “Really? That’s amazing. You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Sara smiled at the sincerity in your voice. “She’ll be thrilled when I tell her you said that.”

You all moved into the living room, settling around the coffee table. Sienna was placed on your lap with a few colorful toys, plastic keys, a soft bunny, a stacking cup, and she began babbling happily, alternating between slapping her toy against your arm and tugging at Alexia’s sleeve whenever she came close.

“So,” Sara began, flipping open her folder. “This is just a standard home assessment. I’ll ask some questions about your lifestyle, routines, and support system, and of course I’ll take note of the environment.”

You nodded quickly. “Of course. We’ve prepared everything.”

Her first question came out with a bang. “How do you plan to balance football with raising Sienna here?”

You exchanged a glance with Alexia, both of you speaking almost in unison.

“We’re lucky to have a strong support system,” Alexia said confidently. “Our families are close by, and both of our mothers in particular are very hands on. They adore Sienna already.”

You added, “And the club has been incredibly supportive. Schedules can be worked around, and honestly, this isn’t just a responsibility. It’s something we both want. We’ll make it work.”

As you spoke, Sienna shoved her bunny into Alexia’s lap with a squeal. Without missing a beat, Alexia picked it up, wiggled it in front of Sienna, and made her laugh, all while continuing to answer Sara’s follow ups about meal times, sleeping arrangements, and discipline approaches.

Sara asked, “And how do you divide responsibilities between the two of you?”

You smiled, running your fingers gently through Sienna’s curls as she babbled. “It depends on who’s home. If Alexia has a late training session, I handle bath time. If I’ve had a meeting, she does bedtime. It’s a partnership. We don’t keep score.”

Alexia chuckled. “Except when she tries to claim she changed more diapers than me.”

Sara’s lips twitched into a grin at your seamless back and forth. She jotted a few notes down as Sienna tried stacking her cups on your thigh, squealing every time one toppled over. You scooped them up, handed them back, kissed her cheek, all without losing your train of thought. Everything was so natural and organic.

Sara watched you both with an almost softened expression. Finally, she closed her folder. “I’ll be honest. It’s rare I walk into a home and see this level of connection right away. You two…” She gestured between you, then at Sienna. “You’re already a family. I’ll be filing to award temporary guardianship until the court date. That way, she’ll stay here with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a grin spreading across your face so quickly you could barely contain it. “Really? Oh my God, thank you.”

After Sara left, you didn’t waste a second. You scooped Sienna up from her playmat, smothering her face in kisses as she erupted into giggles, her laughter bouncing around the apartment.

Alexia stood by the doorway, watching with a smile so soft it could’ve melted the walls.

“You’re all ours now, babygirl,” you whispered into Sienna’s neck, kissing her again until her tiny hands pushed at your face in playful protest.

The sound of her giggles filled the apartment, successfully warming your heart.

The Philips Stadion was buzzing, shaking under the weight of Barcelona and Wolfsburg fans. The Champions League final. The pinnacle.

You were on the bench the entire first half, bouncing your leg, chewing your lip bloody. Your chest had been tight the moment you spotted her, Sienna, propped up in Alba’s lap in the box. She was wearing the custom jersey Alexia had bullied the kitman into printing overnight, “SANTOS-PUTELLAS.” Your last names hyphenated on her back. The sight nearly broke you in half with pride.

Barcelona was down 2–0 at halftime. The locker room was quiet. Jonatan had his clipboard out, face tight. He glanced at you, then at Alexia, and made his decision.

“You’re going in,” he said firmly. “Second half. Don’t overthink. Just do what you do best. But you’ve had a lot on your plate—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off, voice sharper than you intended. You weren’t fine. But one look at that baby girl upstairs made you burn alive. “I can do this.”

Alexia, sitting beside you, caught your hand under the bench and squeezed once. No words, just the weight of her belief in you.

When the whistle blew to start the second half, you jogged onto the pitch. Heart pounding. Legs jittering. And then you looked up, just for a second. Alba was holding Sienna on her knees, Eli waving her tiny hand toward the field, your mom blowing you kisses.

You waved back and smiled. For the first time all night, you felt steady. Do it for Sienna.

It was Lucy who started it, muscling Popp off the ball and sending it up the pitch to you in desperation. You took a quick glance around. Nobody open. Every option closed. Every Wolfsburg shirt crowding in.

So you took the risk. You pumped your leg back and struck the ball clean, the kind of hit you’d practiced a thousand times under the floodlights at Ciutat Esportiva. The stadium seemed to inhale all at once as the ball flew, cutting through the air in a perfect arc.

The keeper dove, too late. The net rippled.

Barcelona’s crowd exploded as they started your chant. Your veins felt as if they were on fire. Lucy had you off the ground before you could even process, spinning you around. Your teammates crashed into you, screaming in your ear.

But your eyes went up to the box. Alba was bouncing Sienna, her tiny fists waving, her mouth open in some half-formed squeal of joy. You pressed your fingers to your lips and blew her a kiss. She waved…or maybe Alba just moved her hand for her, but it didn’t matter. She was smiling and you weren’t stopping at one.

The restart was frantic. Less than two minutes later, Patri rocketed one in, tying the game. The stadium shook. Barcelona was alive again and wearing Wolfsburg down by the minute.

By the 68th minute, Keira slid the ball to you. You pushed forward, weaving through green shirts. The goal opened up in front of you. But out of the corner of your eye, you saw Popp, bearing down, studs high.

You released the ball to Frido just in time. She shot and it flew into the net. But you didn’t see it. Because Popp’s studs had caught the back of your legs.

Pain ripped through you. You went down hard, breath knocked out of your chest. The whistle blew immediately. You clutched the grass, groaning, your calves screaming.

Medical staff sprinted over. Alexia was already beside them, face twisted with fury.

“She went for the ball,” Popp tried to say, but Alexia barked back, “She went for her legs, don’t lie!”

The medics checked you quickly—no fracture, just a brutal rake of studs, skin torn open and bruised. “We’ll have to sub you. Just want to get a proper look,” one muttered.

“No,” you gritted, trying to push up. But your legs buckled. The pain was too much.

Jonatan didn’t argue, the board went up for Bruna to replace you.

As you were helped to your feet and began limping off, the entire stadium clapped. Wolfsburg fans. Barça fans. Everyone. Your teammates clapped you all the way, Lucy even walked beside you, patting your back.

You kept your head high, waving once to the stands. But when you caught sight of Sienna again, her little face pressed to the glass, Alba bouncing her to keep her calm, your throat nearly closed.

By the end, Barcelona finished it and Wolfsburg cracked. By the final whistle, it was 3–2. Barcelona had clawed back to the top.

You shook hands with Wolfsburg players out of respect. Hugged a few teammates. But the second formalities were done, you sprinted with Alexia straight for the tunnel where Alba was waiting, bouncing a very overstimulated baby.

“Give her to me!” you half yelled, half laughed, and Alba handed Sienna over. You cradled her against your chest, pressing kiss after kiss to her soft head.

Alexia’s arm went around both of you. Her forehead pressed to yours.

“We did it,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “For her.”

“For her,” you echoed, your voice breaking.

Sienna squealed, clapping her little hands together, completely oblivious to the fact her moms(?) had just conquered Europe.

The celebrations were chaos. Photos with the trophy, champagne flying, teammates stealing Sienna for their own selfies. Patri balanced her on her hip, Lucy kissed her forehead, Frido tried to get her to hold the trophy ribbon.

“She’s the real player of the match,” Aitana joked, tickling Sienna’s belly.

“She’s definitely cuter than you,” Frido teased, poking your cheek.

Eventually, you sat down for the press conference, Alexia beside you, both of you damp with champagne. The Player of the Match trophy sat forgotten at your feet. Sienna was on your lap, tiny fingers grabbing at the microphone, babbling nonsense.

The press laughed nervously. Most didn’t dare ask. But finally, one reporter cleared his throat.

“Congratulations on the win. Uh… if I may—uh, this is the first time we’ve seen you with… with a baby. Can I ask—who is she?”

The room hushed, all eyes trained on you. You looked at Alexia. She raised a brow, letting you decide.

You smirked, leaning into the mic. “Her name is Sienna.”

And that was all. You provided them no explanation and no backstory. Just her name, and that’s all they needed to know.

The room erupted in murmurs, but you didn’t care. You tipped your forehead against Sienna’s, whispering so only she could hear. “We did it, baby. We did it for you.”

#woso fanfic #woso fic #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas

623 notes · View notes

holyblonded · 8 days ago

Text

guys who was going to tell me that college is hard like for realsies. i would’ve NEVER double majored 😭😭

like why did we have two quizzes in one class after the first week. i’m already done with this. then there’s no time to study fr cause it’s school and track at the same time and the season ain’t even here. fic soon tho 🤗

#answered asks 💌#someone please save me #send help

15 notes · View notes

holyblonded · 15 days ago

Text

STOPPP TEWWWW CUTE OMG

It's the family we choose

alexia putellas x reader

summary: the story of how alexia became 'mami'.

a/n: this is part of this story. not 100% happy with how it turned out.

it had been three weeks since luca had started kindergarten.

at first, you weren't sure about sending him. the original plan was to keep him at home until he was old enough for school. but after he had turned three, alexia started getting in your ear. how good it would be for him to be around other kids his age, to make friends, to learn to do things without you always right there.

you held firm for some time. then, one day, you got an offer. a small role in a series filming in barcelona. you didn't know what to do - on one hand you missed acting, but you also didn't want to leave luca. your mistake was telling alexia about it. from then on, she doubled down. it will be good for you too, she said, you can go back to acting and not have to worry about luca.

in the end, she was right.

luca absolutely loved kindergarten.

it was lunchtime and luca sat at the round table, eating his soup carefully, determined not to spill any on his clothes. he was sitting with his friends, who were chatting away, clearly not concerned about getting food on themselves; something he would never understand. it made him feel icky just thinking about it.

he was nearly done, proud that his shirt was still clean, when he felt someone nudge his shoulder. luca lifted his gaze from the plate and met eyes with luis, his best friend. the boy looked at him expectantly, but luca didn't know why. "what?"

"you never listen!" luis puffed out a laugh, patting his arm while luca smiled apologetically. "lo siento." now that he was done with his food, he pushed the plate away and focused his full attention on the boy next to him. "what did you say?"

"why does your papa never pick you up?"

that question seemed to catch the attention of all his friends at the table. it suddenly became quiet, all eyes on him. luca didn't like that at all, blood rushing into his cheeks. "well...", he mumbled, eyes flicking from one face to the next, "i don't have a papa."

maybe that was the wrong thing to say, luca thought as everyone now stared at him with wide eyes and open mouths. they were stumped. luis was the first to say something. "you don't have a papa?" luca shook hs head, brows furrowing as he didn't understand what the big deal was. "no. it's me and mama. i don't need a papa."

that made it even worse. suddenly, they all began throwing questions at him, talking over each other, which made it hard to understand anyone.

"who reads you bed-time stories?"

"who plays football with you?"

"who taught you how to ride a bike?"

luca's head turned from one kid to the other, trying very hard to keep up with the questions flying at him. when the voices died down, he thought about it, but the answer came quickly to him.

"ale.", he simply said, like it explained everything. and it did.

ale, alexia, had always been there - ever since the boy could remember. she taught him how to shoot the ball just right; she carried him on her shoulders when his legs got tired; she wrestled on the couch with him, even though mama always scolded them, saying that, sooner or later, they're going to break something; and she read the best bed time stories, because she always did the funny voices.

most of his friends frowned at his words. "who's ale?" luca looked at them like they were crazy. "ale! she's mama's friend. you know her, she picked me up, like, 3 times." some of them nodded, clearly remembering the woman, but the others still looked confused.

maria, the girl across from him, tilted her head. "is she like...your other mama?" now it was luca who was lost for words. he never really thought of ale like that. but now he was thinking; he remembered his friends talking about all the things they did with their papa; all those things he did with ale. so, she was kind of like a papa, but she was a woman. but she also couldn't be mama. what was ale then?

"no. i already have a mama."

before one of them could say anything else, the teacher's voice called out that lunch was over and it was time to go outside. the conversation was quickly forgotten as chairs scraped on the floor and the children hurried to put on their jackets.

but luca kept thinking about it.

it was 5 in the evening. you were washing the dishes while luca played in his room, when the doorbell rang through your appartment. you knew that it could only be alexia. it had become like a routine between you; when alexia's evening was free, she would come over for a visit.

so when you opened the door, the usual sight greeted you. the footballer standing in front of you in her training shorts and a loose hoodie, hair wet and a duffle bag slung over one shoulder. she had clearly come straight from practice. what you weren't used to were the flowers in her hand. your favourites.

"hola.", she greeted with a tired smile on her lips, opening her arms for a hug. "hola.", you echoed as you stepped forward to wrap your arms around her neck, her own sliding around your waist. this close, you were able to smell the fresh, fruity scent of her shampoo.

when you pulled back, your eyes dropped to the bouquet between you. "do you have a date after this?", you teased, a smirk on your lips and eyebrows raised. alexia rolled her eyes and held the flowers out to you. "para ti. they are your favourite."

you let out a chuckle at her exasperated tone, unable to resist teasing her further. "just checking. you never talk about your love life. i'm your best friend, i need to know these things."

the footballer gave you the look - one you knew all too well, since she spent a lot of her time around you wearing it. but you knew what was really behind that arched eyebrow and those lips, tightly pressed together. you could always tell; the slightest twitch of her lips gave away the struggle not to laugh.

"if you keep teasing me, i will give them to the neighbours.", she warned good-naturedly. that made you stop and you quickly apologized. "no, don't. i'm sorry for teasing. thank you for thinking of me...i love them." alexia smirked, but accepted your apology and handed them over.

while you brought them closer, breathing in their sweet scent, alexia glanced behind you into the apartment. "so...", she started, waiting for you to look at her before she continued, "can i come in now or...?"

at her words, you suddenly realized that you had been standing there for quite some time. your cheeks flushed bright red as you mumbled, "sorry" and quickly stepped aside to finally let her in. alexia laughed, letting her fingers brush along your arm as she passed you. "you're cute."

your blush deepend and you quickly turned around while alexia toed off her shoes and walked toward the kitchen to find a vase. on the way there, you called out to your son. "luca, ale's here!"

there was a beat of silence. then, the sound of small feet pounding against the floor could be heard. as soon as the boy saw alexia in the living room, he let out an excited "mami! i missed you!" and threw himself into her arms.

alexia caught him on instinct, holding him securely in her arms. it was only after a few seconds that she realized what he had said. she froze. meanwhile, you were in the kitchen, rooted to the spot. that was unexpected. after the initial shock had subsided, you quickly made your way to the living room.

luca didn't seem to notice, or care, about the sudden tension in the room. he was happily snuggled against alexia, his head resting on her shoulder.

noticing you stood in the doorway, alexia's eyes flicked to you. there was clear panic, but underneath...there was something else.

the footballer didn't know what to do. her first reaction was pure shock, her mind going blank. never in her life had she imagined someone call her mami. alexia had long since made piece with the idea that, maybe, she wouldn't find her person; that a family of her own just wasn't in the cards. football had always come first, and everything else just wasn't as important to her.

but hearing luca say it...it made her feel...warm; in a way she couldn't quite describe. the feeling spread through her, wrapping around her like a warm blanket. she loved it. somehow, it just felt right.

when luca began to wriggle around in her arms, alexia tightened her hold on him, not wanting him to slip. "que?", she asked softly, almost afraid she had misheard, "what did you just call me?" the boy leaned back and met her eyes. "mami.", he repeated, matter-of-fact, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

alexia was lost. she blinked; once, twice. her mouth opened, but no words came out. her gaze darted back to you, searching, pleading, asking for help.

you moved closer, your own mind still a mess. you weren't prepared for this; the possibility of something like this happening had simply never crossed your mind. stopping just a step away from them, you tilted your head and asked curiously, trying to keep your voice light-hearted, "'mami', huh? and how did you come up with that?"

luca turned his head, grinning like he had been waiting for someone to finally ask. "my friends and i talked.", your son began, voice growing animated, "they all have a mami and a papi. and i told them that i don't have a papi."

"they didn't understand and they asked sooo many things." he let out a dramatic huff. "i told them i had you and ale. then maria-" the boy suddenly stopped, turning toward alexia and dropped his voice into a whisper, "she likes real madrid."

both he and alexia grimaced when he said the name, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. this was all alexia. from the start, she had been determined to turn him into a true culé, drilling into him that real madrid was bad. clearly, she had been successful.

luca quickly added in a rush, "but she's really cool, i promise!" when he saw alexia's lips twitch into a smile, he seemed to relax, reassured that she wasn't mad that he was friends with her.

"she asked if you are my mama, but i can't have two mamas. that's confusing. so..."his little shoulders lifted in a shrug. "i decided you're mami."

when he was done, your son looked expectantly at alexia. when she didn't say something right away, his smile wavered. he nervously began fidgeting with the string on the footballer's hoodie. "is that not okay?"

alexia immediately moved to reassure him. she was normally one to think things through, but the words had left her mouth before her brain could catch up. "it's more than okay.", she said, "you just surprised me, that's all."

but then, it hit her. she hadn't asked how you felt about it. panic washed over her again. what if you weren't okay with that?

her thoughts were interrupted by luca squirming in her arms and alexia carefully set him on the ground. "can we watch a movie now?", the boy asked, taking both your and alexia's hand to pull you over to the sofa.

there was so much alexia wanted to say. but she couldn't, not with luca still around. she tried to meet your eyes, but your gaze was fixed on your feet.

meanwhile, you went over everything that happened. while it was unexpected, you didn't mind that luca called her that. and if you were being honest with yourself, she already was like another parent to him. he grew up with her always right there. so, maybe, it wasn't as crazy as it first seemed to be. it had been just a matter of time.

your thoughts drifted to alexia. knowing her for as long as you did, you knew she was a worrier and that she needed your reassurence. you had to talk to her as soon as possible.

luca finally drifted off to sleep after alexia had read him two stories, mumbling a sleepy "bona nit, mami." before his eyes fluttered shut. she carefully got off the bed and walked out, pulling the door closed behind her.

you were curled up on the couch, feet tucked under you, watching some mindless tv while you waited for her.

alexia padded into the living room and sat beside you. she was close enough that her knee touched your thigh and you were able feel the warmth of her skin. turning toward her, you saw the footballer already looking at you, biting her lip nervously. it was now or never.

"so-", you began, only to be cut off. alexia had apparently had the same idea.

"lo siento.", she blurted out. "for not asking you first. if you're not okay with it, i'll tell luca to stop. i don't want to make things weird. i just..." she broke off, staring down at her hands in her lap, fingers wringing together, trying to release some of the nervous energy. "i just didn't want him to feel bad."

that was pretty much how you imagined this conversation to go. normally so sure of herself, alexia had become shy and insecure. but there were only few times where you had seen alexia this nervous.

taking a deep breath, you said softly, trying to reassure her, "ale, i'm not mad. there's no need for you to apologize. in fact, i need to apologize."

her head snapped up, brow furrowing at your last sentence. "i'm sorry i didn't step in.", you said, meeting her eyes. "i wasn't expecting it and it threw me off. i should have helped you, but you had to handle everything on your own. and that's on me."

you took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "now that i had time to think about what happened today...it kinda makes sense. you've always been there for him, doing things that, normally, only a parent would do. you've been there for the birthdays and the christmases, but you've also been there for the scraped knees, the bedtime stories and the movie nights. you've basically been another parent; just without the title."

alexia's lips parted, and you knew she was ready to protest, so you shook your head before she could. "i mean it, alexia. you've been a constant in his life from the start. if he wants to call you that, it's because he sees you as family."

she blinked at you and you hoped that your words were sinking in. when her shoulders began to relax, you knew they were. the shy smile that followed sealed it. "i didn't know how to feel at first.", she admitted softly, "but it felt nice. really nice."

"good.", you told her, "because you've earned it."

"maybe it's just for now, because of his friends. maybe he will forget about it."

"that's fine, too." you reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly in your own. "in the end, it's just a different name. all it really means is that he loves you. a lot."

her eyes softened as she held your gaze. the sincerity in your eyes, paired with the feeling of your hand in hers, made her feel like she could breathe freely again. her muscles relaxed, your words like a soothing balm.

"thank you.", she said at last. "for always knowing how to pull me out of my own head." she placed her other hand over yours, thumb brushing lightly across the skin.

a sudden loud noise from the tv had you jolt in your seat. you turned your head to see that the channel had now changed to some action movie. next to you, alexia broke into laughter and you couldn't help but join in.

"so rude." there was a playful glint in alexia's eyes. "just interrupting us like that." you rolled your eyes, letting go of her hand so you could turn down the volume.

"we're good now?", you asked, wanting to make sure that everything had been said between you.

alexia's smiled. "si."

"good."

you sat there for a while, watching the movie, but then you suddenly remembered that you wanted to tell her something. "sooo..." you trailed off and alexia turned, her content smile replaced with a wary look when she saw your cheeky grin. "i forgot to tell you, i think i have found just the right girl for you."

without hesitation, the footballer grabbed the pillow next to her and threw it in your face. "no. cállate."

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

533 notes · View notes

holyblonded · 16 days ago

Text

got immediate beef with liam 😒

BUT EMERYYYY 🩷🩷

never without | leah williamson.

You sighed as you paced up and down your living room window, your eyes flickering back and forth between the window and the clock on the wall.

“He’s not coming is he?” You sighed as you stopped in your tracks to face your girlfriend, Leah. “Every fucking time…everytime I think he’s going to change!”

“Babe, come sit down,” she frowned. “He’s not worth the stress.”

“I know…I know but it’s just, he’s her Dad, Le!” You groaned, flopping down beside Leah before she pulled you into her side. “She’s almost one, he’s seen her four times since she was six months old!”

Leah placed a kiss on your head, “I know babe, I know. He’s a fucking idiot but there’s nothing we can do. We try, we try so fucking much, but he doesn’t give a shit.”

It was eight o’clock on a Friday night and you were waiting for your daughter's dad to turn up and collect her, for what should’ve been his weekend.

But, like always, he was nowhere to be seen.

You let out a shaky breath, glancing towards the door as if sheer willpower could make him appear. But deep down, you already knew the truth, you were going to be the one picking up the pieces yet again.

“She’s too little to understand now, but one day she’s going to realise,” you murmured, voice thick with frustration and sadness. “And when that day comes, I don’t know how I’m supposed to explain this to her.”

Leah’s hold on you tightened, her hand running up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes. “We’ll tell her the truth, but we’ll also make sure she knows she’s got everything she needs right here.” She paused, pressing another soft kiss to the side of your head. “She’s got you, and she’s got me, and she’s got a whole family who loves her. He might be her dad, but he’s the one missing out.”

You exhaled heavily, closing your eyes for a second before shaking your head. “I just…how hard is it to show up? To be a fucking parent and present?”

Leah didn’t answer because you both knew there was no good explanation. Some people just weren’t built for it.

It had been like this since your daughter, Emery, was born. Empty promises, nights spent waiting for him to come just to be disappointed. Leah was more than a parent to her than he ever would be.

You’d join Arsenal when she was only four months old and you and Leah had become close quickly. She soon became a big part of your life and before you knew it, you were dating and she was basically a parental figure to Emery.

A soft babble from the baby monitor pulled you from your thoughts, and you sat up straighter, glancing towards it. Your daughter wasn’t fully awake, just shifting in her sleep, but the sight of her on the screen was peaceful, safe, completely unaware of the storm brewing outside her tiny world, only made your heart ache more.

“I’m gonna go check on her,” you mumbled, already up.

Leah nodded. “I’ll be right here, give my girl a cuddle from me yeah?”

You made your way upstairs, cracking open the door to your daughter’s room. She was curled up in her cot, her tiny hand wrapped around the ear of the stuffed bunny Leah had bought her months ago.

You crouched down beside her cot, brushing a gentle hand over her soft curls. “He’s not coming, baby,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “But I promise you, you’ll never go without love.”

She stirred slightly, making a little noise before settling again, and you swallowed past the lump in your throat.

You sat there for a moment longer, just watching her, before standing up and making your way back to Leah.

She was waiting with open arms, and you sank into her embrace, letting her hold you together even when you felt like falling apart.

“Let’s order some food,” Leah said after a moment. “Get some wine, put on a shit movie, and just… forget about him for tonight.”

You nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

It was three days later when the knock came at your door.

You frowned, glancing at Leah before getting up from the couch, your stomach twisting with unease. You already had a feeling who it was, and when you pulled the door open, your suspicion was confirmed.

Emery’s dad, Liam, stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, looking entirely unbothered. Like he hadn’t just abandoned his daughter for yet another weekend.

“I’m here to see Emery,” he said, as if he had the right. As if he hadn’t let her down again and again.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re three days late. You think you can just show up whenever the fuck you feel like it?”

“I got caught up,” he muttered. “You know how it is.”

“No, Liam,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t, actually. Because I don’t ‘get caught up’ when it comes to our daughter.”

He let out a sigh, rolling his eyes like you were being dramatic. “Look, I’m here now. Can I see her or not?”

You felt Leah step up behind you, her presence solid and grounding. “You’ve got some nerve,” she said coldly.

He let out a humorless chuckle. “Oh, what, you’re speaking for her now?”

“No,” you cut in before Leah could respond. “But she’s right. You don’t just get to pop in and out of Emery’s life when it suits you. She’s not a fucking toy you can pick up when you feel like it.”

“I’m her dad.”

“Barely,” you shot back. “Being a dad means showing up. It means consistency, effort, love which are clearly things you clearly don’t understand.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “This is fucking ridiculous. I just want to see my kid.”

“And what happens when you disappear again? When you let her down again?” Your voice wavered, but you pushed through. “She’s too young to understand now, but one day she will. And I won’t let you hurt her.”

His jaw clenched. “So that’s it? You’re keeping her from me?”

“No,” you said firmly. “You’re doing that all by yourself.”

Silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating. He shifted on his feet, looking like he wanted to argue, but for once, he had nothing to say.

“You should go,” Leah finally spoke. “Unless you plan on stepping up and actually being a dad, there’s nothing for you here.”

He stared at you both for a long moment before shaking his head. “You’re gonna regret this.”

You didn’t flinch. “No, I won’t.”

And with that, you shut the door in his face, locking it behind you.

Leah’s hand found yours, squeezing it tight. “You did the right thing.”

Your throat burned, but you nodded. “I know.”

And as painful as it was, as much as it hurt to watch him walk away, you knew you were done waiting for him to change. Emery deserved better. And you’d make damn sure she got it.

Later that evening, after you had finally let go of the lingering frustration from earlier, you found yourself curled up on the couch, watching Leah and Emery together on the floor.

Emery sat between Leah’s legs, her tiny hands grasping at Leah’s fingers as she babbled happily, her little voice filling the room. Leah had her full attention on her, grinning as she wiggled her fingers, making Emery giggle.

“You’re getting so strong, baby girl,” Leah cooed, helping Emery balance on her feet. “Gonna be running around and causing chaos soon, aren’t you?”

Emery let out a squeal of delight, bouncing slightly as Leah held her steady. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Your daughter absolutely adored Leah, and it was obvious Leah felt the same.

“Come on, Em, let’s show Mummy what we’ve been practicing,” Leah said excitedly, shifting so Emery was standing on her own two feet. “Ready, bub?”

Your brows furrowed in curiosity as Leah let go of Emery’s hands, only keeping her arms close in case she needed to catch her.

And then, to your utter surprise, Emery took a wobbly step forward.

Your mouth fell open. “Wait…did she just—”

Another step. Then another. And then, with an excited squeal, Emery practically fell into Leah’s arms, giggling uncontrollably as Leah caught her.

Leah turned to you, her grin impossibly wide. “She just walked! Babe, she just took her first steps!”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you scrambled off the couch, reaching for your little girl. “Oh my god, Emmy! You did it, baby!”

Emery babbled excitedly, clapping her hands as Leah pressed kisses all over her cheeks.

“I knew you had it in you, bubba,” Leah beamed, hugging her close. “You’re such a clever girl!”

You reached out, cupping Leah’s cheek and pressing a quick kiss to her lips before turning back to Emery. “You just made Mummy and LeLe so proud, baby girl.”

Leah smiled at you, her blue eyes soft with love. “She’s got the best role model, you know.”

Your heart swelled as you brushed a hand through Emery’s curls. “She’s got both of us.”

#lvnleah #woso x reader #awfc x reader #leah williamson x reader

389 notes · View notes

holyblonded · 16 days ago

Note

HIIII! yk your post on bambi, the teen with IED. i genuinely loved it so much and it was so well written. do you think you could post another.. maybe bambi gets a red during the game because she kept arguing with the ref after things didn’t go her way?

i might tweak it a bit but fs can do this 🩷

#answered asks 💌#added to the wips 🫡

1 note · View note

holyblonded · 16 days ago

Note

Hope you’re doing okay!!!

okay okay so Honey made me absolutely die of laughter, vicky and syd immediately calling aggie dad and saying they didn’t want to be orphans 🤣🤣i absolutely loved it

thank you so much my love 🩷🩷

#answered asks 💌

1 note · View note

holyblonded · 16 days ago

Text

just got told i look straight. actually no one talk to me for the rest of the day. never leaving my dorm again. like this is the most insulting thing i’ve been told in a while. i was so gobsmacked. i just can’t 💔

#i am a lesbian #heartbroken

11 notes · View notes

holyblonded · 16 days ago

Text

honey | aggie beever-jones

pairings: aggie beever-jones x reader, alexia putellas x sister!reader

summary: you and aggie are hiding your relationship from the public, unfortunately for you, you have some nosy people in your life

notes: the summary sucks so bad but it’s all i got y’all! barca’s roster is literally gonna give me a stomach ulcer 😭

Alexia has known you since the day you were born. Actually, long before that. You grew up next door, and your mother, barely out of her teens when she had you, leaned heavily on Eli and Jaume during your early years. They’d already raised two girls, and without hesitation, wrapped your little family into theirs. It wasn’t even a question. Eli was at the hospital when you were born, helping your mother breathe through the contractions while Alexia and Alba waited outside, clutching coloring books and juice boxes and arguing over what they should name you.

You arrived ten days after Alexia’s tenth birthday—a Valentine Baby—and from the second she held you, you were hers. She was obsessed. Like, cling to your crib and refuse to let anyone else hold you type of obessed. Every day after school, she’d drop her backpack at home and race across the shared hall to yours, dragging Alba along. Eli would stay behind to help your mom rest while the Putellas sisters fed you bottles and changed your diapers with all the seriousness of surgeons. When you were colicky, Alexia would sing to you. When you had your first fever, she cried harder than your mom.

As a toddler, you followed her everywhere. At family barbecues, you’d waddle around in her shadow, clutching the hem of her shirt. When she had games, you were in the stands with your mom and Alba, squealing in your little hand-sewn shirts with phrases like “Vinga, Alexia!” across the front in crooked stitching. Alexia still has the blue one saved in a box under her bed. It smells like sunshine and baby lotion.

She remembers your first word (it was Mama, but she insists you said ‘Lexia the next day), your first steps (on the pitch after one of her matches, you saw the ball she kicked toward the sideline and made a beeline for it, falling twice but getting back up each time), and your first goal. That was at La Masia, your very first official game. You were maybe six, tiny for your age but already full of light, and you stole the ball clean from your opponent and ran the full length of the pitch like a streak of golden fire before slotting it into the net like you’d been born for it. Alexia and her friends screamed so loud the ref nearly threw them out. She still tells that story to anyone who’ll listen.

She was the first person to ever braid your hair before a game. The one who taught you how to lace your boots just right so they wouldn’t loosen during a match. When you made the U-10s, she cried. When you made the U-14s, she screamed. When you were called up to Barça’s senior team at fifteen, she sat in her car for ten minutes after reading the roster just to cry in peace. She remembers your debut better than her own.

Alexia always said she didn’t need another little sister, but then you arrived and rewired her entire universe. She became your fiercest protector from the start. Not because you were fragile, you weren’t. Even as a kid, there was a quiet strength in you, a steadiness. But you were so kind and so soft with the world. You handed out your love like candy. Just effortlessly, completely, and without hesitation. That always scared her. Because the world isn’t always kind back. She’d seen how people twist softness into weakness, how kindness gets taken advantage of. So she made it her mission to protect yours.

When you were fourteen and started getting attention from boys—and later, girls—Alexia went on high alert. She scared off your first boyfriend with a single death stare from across the pitch. The poor boy tripped over his own feet and avoided you for a week. Your first girlfriend wasn’t much luckier. Alexia cornered her outside a training session and laid out a list of expectations that read more like a threat than a pep talk. Alba had to pull her aside and remind her you weren’t six anymore.

Alba is your only saving grace. The only one who can get Alexia to chill out, the only one who doesn’t interrogate you when you come home blushing and humming under your breath. She’s the one who taught you how to flirt in a way Alexia wouldn’t catch (speaking from experience.) She even helped you sneak in late from Aggie’s hotel once, covering for you while Alexia was already asleep. Making her the only one, other than Eli and your mother, who knows about Aggie.

Even now, with you, twenty years old and firmly part of Barça’s senior squad, nothing’s changed. Alexia still braids your hair before big matches, making sure your bow is in place. Still brings you chocolate after losses. Still looks at you like you’re the best thing the world ever gave her. Cause in her eyes, you are.

You’re the team’s light. The one who brings treats for the ball girls. The one who never forgets a birthday—staff, teammates, grounds crew, you remember them all. You handwrite notes for debut matches and bake cupcakes for retirements. You speak fluent Catalan, Spanish, English, and enough French and Swedish to welcome new transfers in their native tongue. You even started learning Polish. You still wear a bow in your hair before every match. You’re a pleaser, yes, but never weak. Your kindness is chosen, active, and fierce. It shines through every part of you.

Alexia worries, sometimes, that the world might chip away at you. But then you laugh or press a kiss to her cheek after training or call her just to say “I love you,” and she knows you’re still the same little girl with the golden onesie and the brave little feet chasing after her ball.

You’ve never kept a secret from each other. Not once. Not yet.

You had never expected to get caught.

Not because you were arrogant, just… cautious and extremely practiced. You’d done everything right. Only your inner circle knew about you and Aggie. Alba, Eli, and your mom, Sabina. As well as Jana, Kika, Salma, and Bruna. All women who’d never betray your trust and most importantly wouldn’t slip up and tell Alexia. Plus, Aggie lived in England, which, while hard on your heart, made the secrecy easier. There were no accidental bakery sightings, no late night drives caught on someone’s story. The few public photos of the two of you could easily be explained away—Nike loved pairing you together for shoots. Something about the “Barcelona’s golden child and Chelsea’s star girl” aesthetic tested well. If anyone asked, you were just good friends with great chemistry. So no. You hadn’t expected to get caught.

And if you had made a list of people you might expect to catch you, it wouldn’t have been them.

Not Dumb and Dumber. Not Vicky Lopez and Sydney Schertenleib.

Honestly, you would’ve bet money on Marta catching you. She’s known you for years and has seen you in many stages of life. Or maybe Irene, who always had a suspicious glint in her eye. But no. It was the gremlins.

You loved Vicky and Sydney, deeply. You were close, hell, closer than close. You’d taken them under your wing when they first joined Barca, two precocious talents still figuring out how to be teenagers in a professional setting. They had imprinted on you like ducklings, and never quite left. Now they treated your apartment like their second home. Constantly raiding your kitchen, stealing your hoodies, claiming your couch as theirs. One of your guest rooms now had a glittery sign taped to the door that read, ‘Vicky and Syd’s Room! STAY OUT!!!’ in neon pink sharpie

They called you ‘Mama’ when they wanted something. Or when they wanted to annoy you. Or both.

You loved them. But you also wanted to strangle them sometimes.

So really, you should’ve known something would happen when Aggie flew in for a quick two day Nike shoot and decided to stay with you instead of getting a hotel. You should’ve predicted disaster the second she walked through your door with that stupid smile and a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

But your brain shut off the second she kissed you. You hadn’t even made it to your bedroom. One minute you were offering her a drink, the next you were both tangled on the couch, lips pressed together in a flurry of missed time and pent up energy. Her hands cupped your face, her knee slotted between your thighs, and you let out the softest whimper into her mouth that had her murmuring, “God, I missed you,” against your lips.

That was when the door opened.

“Oh my God!” Vicky’s voice shot through the apartment like a cannon. You both froze instantly, like guilty teenagers caught by their parents.

“¡Dios mío! ¡Mis ojos!” Vicky shrieked, spinning around so fast she knocked into the coat rack. (My god! My eyes!)

Sydney, standing behind her, looked absolutely horrified. “Erase it from my mind, God, please!” She reached up like she was going to literally gouge her eyes out before deciding to just clamp both hands over them.

You groaned, dragging yourself off Aggie and adjusting your shirt as you stood. Your legs were still wobbly.

“For the love of—” You rubbed your hands down your face. “This is exactly why I lock the door.”

“What are you doing?” Vicky demanded, eyes still squeezed shut as she pressed herself flat against the wall like the drywall might absorb her. “You can’t do that! Mothers don’t do that!”

“I’m twenty,” you said flatly. “It is biologically impossible for me to be your mother.”

“Oh,” Sydney shot back without missing a beat, her hands still firmly over her eyes, “so you hate us and want us to die?”

“Exactly!” Vicky added, “We were hungry and this is how you treat us? We could’ve been kidnapped on the streets and all you’d be doing is—sinning!” She whispered the last part as if it was a cuss word.

Behind you, Aggie tried, and failed, not to laugh. You could hear her muffled snort from the couch.

You sighed deeply, standing with your hands on your hips like a tired parent. “You know what? Fine. This is happening. Apparently, this is the way I die.”

Both girls peeked open their eyes slightly.

“Vivi. Syddie.” The nicknames softened them instantly, like a magic spell. They turned toward you, slowly, cautiously, as if you might pounce.

You gestured toward the couch, where Aggie was now sitting up, trying to fix her hair and look presentable, though the flush in her cheeks said otherwise.

“Meet Aggie. My girlfriend.”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Aggie offered a hesitant wave, then awkwardly extended a hand for a handshake. It was cautiously accepted by both girls, like she might explode upon contact.

“You’re dating Chelsea’s number thirty-three?” Vicky asked, jaw slack.

“How didn’t we know?” Sydney followed up, scandalized.

“Is she our father?”

“Does this mean you’re transferring? You can’t do that!”

“No she can’t do that. Does Alexia know?!”

“ENOUGH!” you said loudly, throwing your arms up.

They both shut up instantly, like chastised puppies. You took a deep breath and pointed toward the dining table. “Go. Sit. I will get your juice boxes and we can talk like human beings.”

They obeyed, trudging over and plopping into chairs with the dramatics only teenage athletes could pull off.

You handed them their usual juice boxes. Vicky’s with a paper straw, Sydney’s frozen the way she liked and answered their questions one by one.

Yes, you were dating Aggie. No, you were not transferring to Chelsea. No, Alexia didn’t know and if they like life it would stay like that until you were ready to tell her. Yes, Alba did know. No, you weren’t hiding it because you didn’t trust them, you just weren’t ready.

Finally satisfied, they turned toward Aggie with a new intensity. The kind of look that made even seasoned players nervous. The sizing up began immediately. Eyebrows raised, heads tilted, whispers exchanged behind hands.

Aggie, usually so confident, shifted in her seat. You reached over and squeezed her knee under the table.

“Stop it,” you warned the girls with a sharp look. They stopped whispering like they’d been caught plotting a heist.

Then, without warning, Vicky said bluntly, “I like you. You’re our dad now.”

You nearly choked.

Sydney nodded seriously. “Yeah. Welcome to the family, Dad.”

Aggie beamed, cheeks glowing with laughter and affection. “Thank you. It’s an honor.”

You were mortified. “Okay. That’s enough. Go to your room.”

“But it’s our night!” Sydney groaned.

“Yeah! You said Tuesday was ours!”

“It’s Wednesday,” you pointed out.

Vicky gasped like you’d betrayed her. Still, they shuffled off dramatically, groaning the entire way.

“Love youuuuu,” Sydney called from down the hall.

“Don’t sin again!” Vicky added. The door shut behind them.

You slumped back onto the couch next to Aggie with a loud exhale and buried your face in her shoulder.

She laughed, wrapping her arm around you. “So. I met them.”

“They are so embarrassing.”

“They’re funny.”

You peeked up at her. “You really think so?”

She smiled, soft and warm and beaming. “I love them. And I love you.”

You leaned in and kissed her, slower this time, sweeter. “I love you too.”

She rubbed your back gently. You curled into her side and pressed a sleepy kiss to her jaw. “Come on. Let’s go to bed. We’ve got an early morning.”

Aggie stood and offered you her hand. You took it with a tired smile and a full heart.

You didn’t know how the least subtle people were the ones who kept inching closer and closer to uncovering your secret. Honestly, it was starting to become a serious problem.

You were texting Aggie during the morning break. Just a soft, teasing message about breakfast muffins and how she always ate the tops off yours, when you felt it. A presence, well—several, to be exact.

You glanced up and immediately caught the eyes of Pina, Patri, and Cata all staring at you with cartoonishly suspicious expressions, like they were auditioning for a tv show drama about cheating lovers and forbidden confessions.

It was not subtle in the slightest. They quickly looked away when you met their eyes, all three pretending to be engaged in wildly fake conversations with whoever was closest. Pina, in particular, whispered something to a completely oblivious Caro, who just blinked at her and walked away.

You sighed and locked your phone. You could feel their eyes on you like heat lamps every time you moved. When you pulled on your boots, when you checked in with the physio about your ankle, when you offered Alexia a warm croissant you brought from her favorite bakery near your apartment. The one that opens at 5 a.m. The one Aggie found and introduced you to on a sleepy Sunday morning.

It was only a matter of time. And that time came fast.

At lunch, you were quite literally abducted. You’d just started to sit between Vicky and Sydney like you always did when two hands latched onto your arms from either side. Jana, Kika, and Salma on the other side of the table.

“¡Ay, dios!” you yelped as Cata and Patri hoisted you out of your seat with the synchronized aggression of undercover agents.

“Lunch relocation,” Patri said with a grin.

“You’ve been drafted,” Cata added ominously.

“What happened to asking?” you grumbled as your tray nearly slid off your hands. “I’m delicate. Like a flower.”

“Too late. We have questions,” Cata replied as they guided you toward the far corner of the room. Pina was already standing there, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“You know,” you huffed once they set you upright again, “you could’ve just asked me to walk with you.”

“I’m honestly offended that you think I’m an idiot,” Pina said, expression serious.

Your face scrunched in confusion. “I never said that. I would never say that. That’s a terrible accusation.” You reached forward and pulled Pina into a soft hug, because you loved her. You really did. She was sunshine and chaos wrapped in glitter. She also joined the senior team the same time as you, so there was a deep bond. “You’re brilliant and powerful. I’m scared of you.”

Pina rolled her eyes but hugged you back with a quiet smile.

Patri didn’t wait. “Who are you dating?” she asked flatly.

You froze in Pina’s arms.

“…What do you mean?” you tried, voice high and falsely cheerful.

Cata shook her head immediately. “It’s obvious. You’ve been…glowy.”

“I’m always glowy,” you protested, stepping back to gesture at yourself. “That’s kind of my whole thing! I drink three liters of water a day and I believe in loving people loudly. That’s not new.”

“This is different,” Patri argued, voice sharper. “You’re not just glowy. You’re radiant. It’s the kind of joy that makes you dance in the hallways and hum in the showers and give everyone extra strawberries at breakfast. You’ve been smiling like your heart’s floating.”

Your lips curled despite yourself. “That’s… poetic, Patri.”

“But also suspicious,” Cata added, squinting. “And don’t think we didn’t notice the mystery jacket you were wearing last week. That wasn’t yours.”

You groaned and covered your face with your hands. “It was from the thrift store. I was trying something new.”

Pina stepped forward and placed a kind hand on your arm. “You don’t have to tell us, okay? But we’re your friends. Your built in big sisters and we love you. And we will find out. Whether you tell us or we hack your phone. And when we find out, we’re telling Ale. Just to annoy you.”

“Definitely will,” Cata echoed, pointing two fingers at her eyes and then at you.

The three of them walked away in dramatic unison, like a girl group leaving behind the wreckage of their latest heist.

You were still groaning into your hands when you felt two more presences on either side of you. You didn’t even look up.

“Did they find out about—” Sydney started. Vicky immediately slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” she whispered urgently, nodding in the direction of the trio who were now watching you from their table like owls. “They are always listening.”

You dragged your hands down your face. “What am I going to do?”

Sydney and Vicky exchanged a look over your head before turning back to you.

“You might have to tell Alexia,” Vicky said gently, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You gasped like she’d stabbed you.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered.

“I mean it,” Vicky said, soft but serious. “She’s your sister. Blood or not and you know that. She calls you Mielcita like it’s your real name. She’s going to feel betrayed if you keep this from her too long.”

You ducked your head, eyes wide and guilty.

“You definitely have to,” Sydney added. “You can’t let them kill Dad.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Aggie,” she clarified, deadpan. “Remember she’s now our father. If Alexia finds out from anyone but you, there’s a chance Aggie will no longer be with us. You know that right?”

Vicky nodded vigorously. “She’ll make sure we’re fatherless orphans and you’re a widow.”

You groaned and leaned your head onto Sydney’s shoulder. “Why do I even ask you two for help?”

“Because we’re brilliant,” Sydney said.

“And because we’d die before letting you get publicly outed by a team meeting,” Vicky added, kissing your temple.

The next few days went exactly the same way, like clockwork or a sick cruel dance.

The three musketeers—Pina, Patri, and Cata—would spy on you, you’d catch them, they’d scatter like startled pigeons, and the vicious cycle would reset the very next day.

Like one morning, you were attempting to make your morning cup of tea. A quiet, peaceful mug before training, nothing dramatic, just something to settle the soul. But apparently, your life had been hijacked by three self appointed detectives with the subtlety of a college marching band.

The moment you reached for your favorite honey jar which was Aggie’s honey jar, a golden glass treasure she’d picked up from a farmer’s market, you felt stares. That prickling at the back of your neck paired along with hairs standing like warning antennas.

You didn’t even need to turn around. The reflection in the glass wall told you everything.

Pina’s eyes just barely visible above the countertop, her bun peeking up like a shark fin.

Patri bobbing slowly up from behind the espresso machine like a cartoon meerkat.

And Cata…well, Cata crouched by the fridge, as if she were cloaked in invisibility… except for her neon sneakers and training kit, which screamed her position louder than a flare gun.

You hid a smile, stirring your honey into the steaming tea with deliberate slowness. You even hummed to yourself, like you had no idea three elite athletes were role playing as undercover agents.

When you finally turned, you leaned back against the counter, mug in hand, your voice sweet and soft as spun sugar. “Are you three… spying on me?”

“No,” Pina snapped instantly, far too defensive.

“Yes,” Cata blurted out at the exact same time.

Patri, ever the mediator, lifted her hands like she could diffuse a bomb. “We’re just… observing for… scientific purposes.”

Your laugh was warm, sunlight slipping through the blinds. “Scientific purposes? What, studying how much honey I put in my tea?”

Pina grinned, emboldened. “No, studying why you’ve been all… floaty lately. Like you’re made of sugar.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you took a sip to hide it. “I’ve always been like this. I’m just nice.”

Patri shook her head, eyes narrowing. “No, honey. This is different. This is an ‘I’m in love’ nice. That’s not just tea in your cup, that’s romance.”

You hid behind your mug, dimples betraying you.

Cata’s smirk was slow and sharp. “We’ll find out who it is.”

You tilted your head, voice still syrup-sweet. “I’m sure you will.”

And walked out, leaving the three of them buzzing like bees denied the hive.

A few days later, it happened again. This time training had ended about an hour ago and most of the team had already cleared out, but you stayed behind, as you often did. You helped tidying cones, chatting with staff, making sure the physio didn’t clean up alone.

Now you sat at your cubby, humming softly while lacing your boots back into place. A folded note sat in your hand from a ball girl who slipped it to you after training, written in glittery purple pen. You’re my favorite player. I want to be sweet just like you someday.

The words made your chest ache, full and glowing. You carefully tucked it into your bag like it was a talisman. What you didn’t notice—or rather, pretended not to notice was the peanut gallery at the far end of the locker room.

Pina, half in her boots, stage-whispered, “Look at her. Smiling at her bag like that.”

“She’s definitely texting someone,” Patri countered, leaning dangerously forward on the bench.

Cata shook her head, sharp eyes narrowing. “No. Look at the way she tucked that note in like it’s precious. That’s not casual. That’s love behavior.”

“It could be from a friend,” Patri argued.

“It’s not from a friend,” Pina said firmly, crossing her arms like a judge delivering a verdict. “That’s her ‘I’m in love’ face. I’ve studied it.”

Cata smirked. “We need to find out who before Alexia does. Imagine her face.”

“Imagine her wrath,” Patri corrected grimly.

You looked up suddenly, catching them mid-huddle. They froze like deer in headlights. You tilted your head, voice warm as honey dripping from the comb. “Do I need to start charging rent for all the time you three spend staring at me?”

Pina’s guilty smile was immediate. “We just like looking at you, mielcita.”

You rolled your eyes, gathering your bag with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

But the dimple in your cheek gave you away, and you knew it.

As you disappeared out the door, Pina muttered darkly, “We’re close. I can feel it.”

There was in fact a day they got extremely close. It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon. That’s what you told Aggie when you agreed to meet her at a little tucked away cafe in the Gothic Quarter. She’d stayed behind in Barcelona after Chelsea’s game against Atlético, craving stolen hours with you before heading back to London.

The cafe was charming with ivy curling over the doorway, old wood tables, and a bell above the door that chimed like a secret. You sat across from each other, laughing, Aggie animatedly telling some wild story from her academy days.

Then out of the corner of your eye your saw rapid, and abrupt movements. Three shadows outside the window.

Your stomach dropped as did the smile on your face. You knew that slouch, that stupid bun. And Cata’s yelp as she fell out of her crouch confirmed everything.

“Pina, Patri… and is that Cata?” Aggie whispered, half-laughing.

You didn’t answer. You grabbed her hand under the table, eyes wide. “We need to move. Now.”

Outside, the trio plastered themselves against the glass like overeager tourists. Pina squinted, nose almost pressed to the window. Patri kept glancing up and down the street like this was some top-secret stakeout. Cata rubbed her shin from the fall, muttering angrily but refusing to give up.

“They’re onto you,” Aggie teased, though she didn’t resist when you tugged her toward the back.

The back door opened into a narrow alley, bricks warm under the afternoon sun. You yanked your hood up, Aggie mirroring you. Ducking behind a stack of crates, you held your breath.

The cafe door opened. “She was right there!” Pina’s voice was sharp, frustrated.

“Are you sure?” Cata asked. “Could’ve just been a friend.”

“I know my girl’s smile,” Pina muttered. “And that was a special smile.”

You buried your face into Aggie’s shoulder to stifle a laugh.

“They’re relentless,” Aggie whispered, her grin betraying how much she was enjoying this.

“They’re also dead if they breathe a word to Alexia,” you muttered back, half-joking, half-deadly-serious. “Pina’s been doing this since my academy days. Acting like a freaking mini Alexia. I’ll put an end to it.”

The footsteps faded. You exhaled, tension easing, and slipped out into the crowded streets hand in hand. The smell of coffee clung to your jackets, your secret, for now, still safe.

“Aggie, you don’t understand,” you told her, pacing across your living room as Aggie lounged on the couch, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Alexia is the most overprotective person in my life. She takes her role as big sister and protector very seriously.”

Aggie raised an eyebrow, amused. “I know. When Guro accidentally fouled you last month, someone had to hold Alexia back before she charged across the pitch.”

You groaned, throwing your hands in the air. “Exactly! That’s what I’m talking about. She’s been like this my whole life. My first boyfriend—don’t you dare laugh—literally ran off in fear after one dinner with her. And don’t even get me started on my first girlfriend. Dios mío, that was a disaster. I’m still embarrassed thinking about it.”

Aggie’s smirk only deepened, though her blue eyes softened as she watched you rant. You were pacing like a storm in a teacup, cheeks flushed, hands flailing with every word.

“And then there’s freaking Claudia Pina,” you said dramatically, stopping in your tracks. “Alexia has her trained, Aggie. Trained like a bloodhound. If I so much as look at someone too long, Pina knows. One time, I went to a club with friendsinnocent, normal, fun—and Pina somehow had photos of me talking to a girl and sent them straight to Alexia. Before midnight, I was dragged home like a grounded teenager.”

“Thank God,” Aggie muttered under her breath, jealousy dripping off her tone.

You gasped, affronted, before throwing yourself on top of her with a laugh. “Agnes Beever-Jones, your cute jealousy isn’t appreciated right now!”

Aggie didn’t even flinch, immediately wrapping her arms around your waist and pulling you close. “Sorry not sorry,” she whispered with a grin, pressing her forehead to yours.

You rolled your eyes fondly but couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” Aggie replied, eyes flicking down to your lips. “But I’m yours.”

Before you could think of a comeback, you leaned down, closing the distance. The kiss was slow at first, warm, familiar, and sweet like honey, before it deepened. Aggie’s hand slid up your back, the other cradling your cheek, pulling you closer. You melted, every worry slipping away as you let yourself sink into her. The world outside didn’t exist, not when her lips were soft and sure against yours, not when her hands held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

It was only when Aggie’s fingers ghosted dangerously close to the hem of your shirt that the front door practically exploded.

Both of you jolted upright, separating just in time for Vicky and Sydney to stumble inside, slamming the door shut behind them like fugitives.

“Oh, god,” Vicky groaned, immediately covering her eyes when she spotted you still tangled with Aggie.

“Bleach my eyes! Please, God!” Sydney wailed, throwing herself dramatically against the wall with her hands over her face.

Vicky grimaced like she was about to gag. “Talk about deja vu. Just, ugh, don’t make any babies, for the love of God, please.”

You blinked, still breathless, before shooting them an incredulous look. “That’s not even how it works.”

Aggie buried her face in her hands, trying not to laugh.

“What’s the matter?” you asked finally, sitting up straighter, though you didn’t move away from Aggie.

The two teens exchanged a panicked glance.

Vicky, taking charge, straightened up. “Right. So when we were walking over here—”

“A ‘heads up we’re on the way’ would be nice every once in a while,” you interrupted, narrowing your eyes at them.

Both groaned in unison.

“You never made that boundary before, so you can’t just start now,” Sydney argued, dropping into your armchair like she owned the place.

“I definitely made that boundary!” you protested, indignant.

“But we never listened, so it was kind of one-sided,” Sydney shrugged, making Aggie snort softly.

“HELLO?” Vicky threw her arms out. “Time sensitive problem here!”

“Go on, Vicky,” Aggie said smoothly, amusement clear in her voice.

“Thanks, Dad,” Vicky muttered before turning back to you. “Anyway, we were walking here, and we noticed we were being followed. By a very familiar car.”

Your stomach dropped. “Pina?”

Vicky winced. “Yes. But in the passenger seat… Alexia.”

Your blood ran cold. “What?!” You shot to your feet, pacing again, heart pounding.

“We think they’re on the way here,” Sydney added helpfully.

As if the universe wanted to mock you, the doorbell rang. The chime echoed ominously through the apartment, followed by furious knocking.

“Honey, I know you’re in there! Open the door right now!” Alexia’s voice boomed, carrying through the wood.

Vicky and Sydney yelped like startled cats.

“I think it’s time for us to go to our room,” Sydney whispered, but you spun around, pointing sharply.

“No. Go sit next to Aggie. Now.”

The two froze before scrambling onto the couch, wedging themselves awkwardly on either side of Aggie in a pathetic attempt to hide behind her built frame. Aggie, for her part, looked far too calm, her lips twitching like she was holding back a laugh.

You groaned and pulled the door open a crack, meeting Alexia’s blazing eyes. Behind her stood a smug Pina, positively glowing with self-satisfaction, and a guilty looking Alba.

“Hey, Ale,” you said with your sweetest smile. “How are you doing?”

“Open the door, nena. Now.”

You winced dramatically. “It’s kind of messy in here, I don’t know if—”

Alexia narrowed her eyes, voice low and dangerous. “Open. The. Door.”

You barely had time to argue before she pushed past you with a force that only Alexia Putellas could wield.

Your gaze snapped to Pina, and for the first time in her life, the older player flinched. Your glare was rare, sharp and cutting, and it had her shrinking behind Alba.

Alba kissed your forehead quickly. “I didn’t say anything. Claudia had… a lot of evidence.”

“Of course she did,” you muttered, exasperated.

Alexia marched into the living room, her eyes immediately zeroing in on the blonde sitting between two guilty teens.

“What the fuck,” Alexia muttered in Catalan, glaring at Aggie. “Nena, is that Chelsea’s #33 on your couch?”

You swallowed hard, forcing a nervous smile. “Sí. Alexia, meet Aggie, my girlfriend.”

Aggie, ever composed, took it as her cue. She stood, offered her hand, and smiled warmly. “Nice to formally meet you.”

Alexia’s eyes flicked down to Aggie’s hand, then up to her face, then back to you. She didn’t move.

Alba groaned, smacking her sister’s arm. “Shake her hand, estúpida.”

Reluctantly, Alexia did, though her grip was firm enough to be a warning. Then she sat down heavily, burying her head in her hands.

The silence was crushing. You glanced at Alba, confused. Where was the yelling? Or the fierce interrogation? Instead, Alexia’s voice cracked.

“And everyone knew but me?” She looked up, tears in her eyes. “Even Vicky and Sydney?”

The teens winced but nodded sheepishly. You stayed quiet, guilt written across your face.

Alexia let out a watery laugh, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m sorry, honey. You didn’t tell me because of the way I react. Alba told me in the car. I’m sorry if I’ve been too much—if I’ve been too overprotective. I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt, nena.”

Your heart ached. You slid into the chair beside her, taking her hand gently. “I know, Ale. But I’m an adult now. I can handle myself, I promise.”

She nodded, sniffled, and pulled you into her chest, kissing your temple. “Te amo, amorcita.”

When she finally pulled back, she turned her sharp gaze to Aggie. “If you hurt her, you will never touch another football again in your life. I promise you.”

Aggie met her gaze calmly. “Understood.”

Alba rolled her eyes and pulled Aggie into a sudden hug, shocking the blonde. “Nice to finally meet you, Aggie.”

“She didn’t kill dad,” Vicky attempted to whisper to Sydney.

“Yeah, thank goodness. I really didn’t want to be an orphan,” Sydney responded, with just as loud of a whisper.

You rolled your eyes. “Hush up.”

#woso x platonic!reader #woso fic #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso #alexia putellas x platonic!reader #alexia putellas x sister!reader #alexia putellas x reader #aggie beever jones x reader #aggie beever jones #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni x reader

648 notes · View notes