maeshoneyles

[maeshoneyles]

oooooo you are so evil for that cliffhanger 😭😭😭 i love her friendship w alba and alexia’s family, and really just anything about alexia and r in general!! when im stressed i just reread this aerie and suddenly everything is happy and amazing again

Part 9

You go to your cousins wedding in Spain, and you catch the eye of the Alexia Putellas, she unintentionally becomes your plus one

Wordcount: 10k

Other Parts

Even after you returned to London, the connection between you and Alexia didn’t falter it grew stronger. Texts, calls, and FaceTime became daily rituals, small glimpses into each other’s lives that made the distance feel almost negligible. You laughed over silly memes, received playful voice notes in broken English, and spent hours on video calls just staring at each other, sharing quiet moments when neither of you needed to say much.

In the last month, you’d managed to see her overnight once a week. Those visits were intense, full of laughter, teasing, and stolen intimacy moments that felt suspended in time. Yet each goodbye grew heavier, hugging her at the airport or train station became bittersweet, your arms reluctant to let go, your hearts silently counting down until the next reunion.

Even in those brief separations, the bond deepened. The longing made your reunions sweeter, every touch more electric, every glance more meaningful and the harder the goodbyes got, the more obvious it became, distance couldn’t weaken what you two had it only made it undeniable.

☀️

You were sat on the plane, seatbelt sign still on, waiting for the slow shuffle of people down the aisle to finally bring your row forward. The hum of the air conditioning mixed with the faint rustle of carry-ons being pulled from overhead compartments, and all you could think about was stepping into the warm Ibiza air.

Your phone was still in airplane mode, but you could already picture the message from Alba telling you where she was waiting in arrivals. She’d flown in from Barcelona, and you from London, both of you touching down within half an hour of each other. The idea of being greeted by her familiar smile settled some of the nervous excitement twisting in your stomach.

Alexia had invited you on the family holiday weeks ago, something you’d almost been hesitant to accept not because you didn’t want to go, but because a holiday with her family felt so big. But truthfully, it had been far too long since you’d had a real break, and this was exactly what you needed.

She’d booked a gorgeous rental tucked away in a quieter part of the island a short walk to sandy beaches and little restaurants where you could hear the sea as you ate. You’d seen the photos she sent you, whitewashed walls, airy rooms with flowing linen curtains, and a terrace made for watching sunsets with a glass of wine.

But Alexia herself wouldn’t be there until two days later she was still in Mexico with her mum, Eli, and her best friends, overseeing the opening of a new site for her Eleven Foundation. She’d sounded disappointed about the timing but had promised you the wait would be worth it.

That’s when Alba had reached out. If you’re free, why not come out the first day? she’d said. That way, you’d have the full five days, and it wouldn’t just be sitting around in London, knowing the beautiful house sat vacant when you could be there enjoying it. You didn’t need much convincing. The thought of two days in paradise before the house filled with the rest of the family felt like a gift.

Here you were bag at your feet, heart lighter than it had been in weeks, ready to step into sunshine and salt air. You needed this. You needed to get away.

The moment you stepped through the sliding doors into arrivals, the cool rush of airport air gave way to the heavy warmth of Ibiza. The space was buzzing families corralling kids, couples pulling suitcases, friends greeting each other with loud, happy shouts.

Alba was leaning casually against a pillar, phone in hand, hair tucked behind her ears, scanning the crowd until her eyes landed on you. She grinned wide and lifted her hand in a wave, and just like that, the small knot of nerves in your stomach loosened.

You’d met her a handful of times before at matches you'd snuck to, post-dinner drinks, but this was the first time you’d be spending time with her without Alexia as the bridge between you. You half expected those first few moments to feel awkward, but as soon as you reached her, she pulled you into a warm hug that felt nothing like formality.

“Hola!” she said, stepping back but keeping that easy smile. “You ready for holiday?”

“I’ve been ready for weeks,” you laughed, adjusting your bag. “Thanks for suggesting we come early.”

The conversation flowed almost too easily as you walked toward the taxi rank, her natural warmth putting you instantly at ease. By the time you were on the road, weaving through sunlit streets lined with beautiful flowers, it already felt like you’d known her longer than you had.

The rental was even more beautiful in person, white stone walls stood against a backdrop of olive trees, the terrace looking out toward a sliver of blue sea in the distance. Alba helped you with your suitcase inside, giving you a quick tour of the home they rent every year, kitchen, living room, airy bedrooms with huge windows and every so often, the two of you paused so you could take it in.

It was quiet here, peaceful, the kind of place where the air smelled faintly of salt and everything seemed to slow down.

Alba glanced over at you with a small grin. “Two days before the others come… we make most of it, no?”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Absolutely.”

It felt like the start of something easy, light, a small pocket of calm before the whirlwind of the full family holiday and in that moment, you knew coming early had been the right call.

By the time you’d both unpacked and settled in, the sun was already starting to dip, spilling gold through the wide glass doors of the rental. The quiet hum of the sea air carried through the open windows, and Alba stretched lazily on the sofa, scrolling through her phone.

“So,” she said, looking up at you with that same easy smile, “first night… we dress up, go out, eat good food?”

You grinned immediately. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

It felt like the perfect way to kick off the trip something celebratory, even if it was just the two of you. You both headed off to your rooms to get ready, calling back and forth through the open hallway about what you were wearing.

When you finally emerged, you had to laugh both of you had gone for summer dresses in different shades, hers a deep green that brought out her eyes, yours light and airy in the warm island air. She gave you an approving look.

“Alexia would say we planned this,” Alba teased, gesturing between your outfits.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alexia would also take full credit for it.”

The restaurant she picked was a short walk from the rental down a winding street that opened onto a small square lit by strings of fairy lights. Tables spilled out into the warm night air, and the scent of grilled fish and fresh bread wrapped around you the second you approached.

You shared tapas, local wine, and stories hers about growing up here for summers, yours about your own family holidays, which felt like a lifetime ago. It was easy. Fun. You both laughed so much your cheeks hurt, and somewhere between the second glass of wine and the shared dessert, it hit you how rare and nice it was to just… be in the moment.

When you walked back to the rental later, the air cooler now, Alba looped her arm through yours casually. “I think we start holiday very well,” she said.

You smiled, meaning it. “Perfect start.”

☀️

The next morning, you woke to sunlight streaming in through the sheer curtains, the gentle sound of waves in the distance, and the faint smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. Alba was already up, hair tied back, wearing a loose T-shirt over her bikini.

“You’re up early,” you said, padding into the kitchen.

She grinned, handing you a mug. “Early? This is holiday time. Is late.”

You laughed, taking a sip. The coffee was strong and perfect. “What’s the plan then, boss?”

“Beach first. There’s a small cove, very quiet, five minutes’ walk. We take towels, swim… relax,” she said, tossing you an apple from the counter. “Then maybe go into the little town for lunch?”

“Sounds like a terrible day,” you teased.

She snorted. “You’ll survive.”

The cove turned out to be exactly as she’d promised, tucked away, almost empty except for a couple of locals and one small boat anchored just off the shore. The water was impossibly clear, shifting between turquoise and deep blue. You both spread your towels on the warm sand, kicking off sandals before wading straight into the water.

It was cold at first, making you squeal, which made Alba laugh so hard she almost fell in. But soon you were both swimming out toward the calmer patches, floating on your backs under the bright, cloudless sky.

After an hour of sunbathing and dipping in and out of the sea, you walked into the nearby town, hair still damp and skin salty. Lunch was a laid back affair in a small family run cafe fresh seafood, grilled vegetables, and bread still warm from the oven.

By the afternoon, you were wandering through little artisan shops, Alba convincing you to try on ridiculous sun hats while she modelled oversized sunglasses. And of course many posed pictures were taken you both promised wouldn't see the internet.

That evening, you cooked together back at the rental, nothing fancy, just pasta and salad but with music playing and the balcony doors open to let the warm air in, it felt perfect.

Later, as you sat out on the terrace with a glass of wine each, Alba leaned back in her chair. “You know,” she said, “I think you’re the easiest person I ever spend time with first time alone.”

You smiled at that. “I was nervous it might be awkward.”

“Me too but not at all,” she said simply. “Feels… natural.”

You realised she was right, this little head start before Alexia arrived had already turned into something better than you’d expected, a genuine friendship in the making.

"You're the first girl Alexia has brought home I've actually liked" You rose your eyebrows at Alba with a teasing smile

"I bet you say that to all the girls she brings home"

Alba tittered to herself, "No at all, the two she's brought home since she started dating at 15, she never looked at them like she looks at you."

You lowered your head trying to not blush profusely trying to hide your face behind your wine glass taking a big sip when your head rose again.

Alba swirled her wine lazily, then glanced at you and thankfully changed the topic, “So… last breakup,” she said gently, almost as if testing the waters. “What happened?”

You hesitated, taking in a slow breath. You didn’t usually talk about Lily most people didn’t really know the full truth, but there was something about Alba’s tone, and the way her eyes stayed on you without judgment, that made you feel safe enough to let the words come.

“It wasn’t… good,” you started, voice quiet. “Actually, it was… bad. Really bad.” You looked down at your glass, tracing your finger around the rim before continuing. “At first, she was… charming. Attentive. Made me feel like I was the only person in the world, but it changed so quickly. Little things criticising how I dressed, who I spent time with. Then it became controlling… who I spoke to, what I posted online, how I had to post something of her at least once a week so people knew I was hers. If I didn’t do it, instantly, she’d accuse me of not caring, of cheating.”

Alba’s brows knitted together, her gaze locked on you. “That’s not love.”

You gave a small, humourless laugh. “Yeah, I know that now, but when you’re in it… you convince yourself it’s just because they ‘love you so much.’ She’d apologise after, say she didn’t mean it. But it got worse, emotional manipulation, guilt trips. She’d twist things until I started believing I was the problem.” You stopped for a moment, your throat tightening unexpectedly. “And the way she made me feel about myself… I'd always taken care of myself gone the gym, but she just made it such an issue I stopped going, Emily told me she was making me unattractive for other people because she was insecure. It took me so long to see it for what it was. I thought I was losing my mind half the time.”

A few tears escaped before you even realised it, warm streaks sliding down your cheeks. You brushed them away quickly, embarrassed, but Alba leaned toward you, shaking her head. “No, no. Don’t hide that,” she said softly. “She hurt you. You can feel that.” Her voice was calm but firm, almost protective.

You swallowed hard, staring out into the dark horizon where the sound of the waves carried faintly. “When it finally ended, I wasn’t even relieved at first. I just felt… empty. Like she’d taken everything good out of me and left me with nothing.” Your voice cracked slightly, and you took another sip of wine just to have something to do with your hands. “It’s taken a lot to rebuild myself since then”

Alba reached across resting her hand over yours. “You are not that person anymore. You are strong, and anyone can see that and Alexia… she would never treat you like that.”

Her words settled over you like a blanket. You managed a small smile, squeezing her hand back. “Yeah. I know. Alexia’s… different. Completely.”

Alba’s expression softened even further. “Then let yourself love her in the way you deserve. Fully. Without fear.”

Alba must have sensed you’d reached the edge of what you could share for now, because she didn’t press any further. Instead, she gave your hand one last squeeze before pulling back with a small, mischievous smile.

“Okay,” she said, tilting her head, “enough of the sad talk. We are in Ibiza, remember? The rule here is… only two minutes of crying allowed before you have to dance or drink.”

A surprised laugh escaped you. “That’s a rule?”

“Sí,” she grinned. “I just made it up, but it’s a good one.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, but the corners of your mouth refused to stay straight. “Fine. Two minutes are up, then.”

Alba stood suddenly, walking inside, and you thought she was going for more wine but she came back with her phone in hand. Without warning, she started playing a ridiculously upbeat reggaeton track that instantly made you snort with laughter.

“Oh my god, no,” you said, holding up your hands.

“Yes,” she insisted, already doing a little shoulder shimmy. “Up. Now. No excuses.”

You groaned dramatically but got to your feet, letting her pull you into a clumsy dance right there on the terrace. It was silly, chaotic, and completely uncoordinated, but you couldn’t stop laughing. The heaviness from before loosened its grip entirely, replaced by warm joy.

At one point, she spun you around so badly you nearly fell over, and she caught you with both hands, steadying you while you laughed so hard your stomach hurt. “This is much better,” she said, smiling knowingly.

“Yeah,” you admitted between laughs. “Much better.”

Eventually, the music faded into the background as you both sank back into your chairs, cheeks aching from smiling. You stayed out there for hours, talking about light, silly things, food, travel, embarrassing moments until the night air cooled and you decided it was time to head inside.

As you were brushing your teeth later, Alba called out from her room, “Remember, two minutes of crying only! Tomorrow, we drink and dance more.”

You grinned at your reflection, the earlier tears now just a memory. It wasn’t just that she had distracted you it was that she’d reminded you, you could still feel joy without the shadow of the past dulling it.

☀️

The morning sun was already warm, spilling over the whitewashed terrace and turning the pages of your book almost golden. You’d curled yourself into the corner of the cushioned outdoor sofa, legs stretched out, a half finished fruit bowl on the table beside you. For once, your phone was nowhere near you no notifications, no calls, no reason to be anywhere else but here.

It was peaceful. Just the slow rhythm of your breathing, the faint crash of waves somewhere beyond the rooftops, and the soft swish of pages as you read.

You had just popped a piece of pineapple into your mouth when a flicker of movement caught in your peripheral vision. At first, you thought it might be Alba coming to join you again, but when you looked up your heart leapt. There she was. Alexia.

She was stepping out of the rental, hair loose and sunlit, a soft travel worn smile on her face. She looked different, relaxed, maybe a little tired from the flight back from Mexico, but her eyes locked onto yours the second she spotted you.

You were on your feet without even realising you’d put the book down. “Alexia!” you called, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt.

She smiled fully now, walking towards you with that easy, confident stride that always made your chest feel warm. “Hola…” Her voice was quiet but full of affection, like she was letting herself sink into the moment.

You met her halfway, your bare feet warm on the sun drenched tiles, and the hug was instant, tight, lingering. You could feel her breathing against your shoulder, the way she seemed to just melt into you after days apart.

“You’re early,” you said softly into her ear.

“Mm… I finish in Mexico, I miss you,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you, and you swore your heart could’ve burst right there on that terrace.

You smiled as you pulled back slightly from the hug, your foreheads still resting together, and leaned in for a soft, lingering kiss. It was gentle at first, teasing, full of the quiet excitement of seeing each other again after being apart. When you finally broke apart, Alexia’s cheeks were just a little flushed, and her lips curved into that irresistible, playful grin you’d come to adore.

“You like…” she started in her broken English, trailing her fingers lightly down your side as her eyes flicked to your bikini. “You… you look very nice, I like the bikini you so pretty.”

You laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You really think so?”

“Si,” she said, stepping closer so her hand rested on your waist, “I… I like you in it. Very… very much.”

You felt yourself flush under her gaze, the warmth in her eyes making you forget the sun on your skin. Just as you leaned in to kiss her again, a familiar voice called out.

“Alexia, Mama wants to know if she has time to unpack before the yacht you booked?”

You both turned to see Alba stepping out onto the terrace, speaking in English for your sake.

Alexia’s eyes twinkled, and she gave a small nod. “Yes she have time,” she replied, switching back to her Spanish accent.

You stepped back slightly, giving Alexia a teasing smile. “Looks like we’ve got a little window.”

Alexia winked, her fingers brushing yours once more. “Mm… small window, yes but enough,” she murmured, her tone full of mischief and promise.

Alexia pulled back just enough to look at you, her hand still resting lightly at your hip. Her smile softened as she tilted her head toward the house.

“Ven… come,” she said, slipping into English for you, “I want you… to meet some people.”

You blinked, suddenly conscious of the fact that you were still standing in nothing but your bikini. “Oh uh, wait.” You grabbed your light linen cover up draped over the chair, slipping it on quickly, tying the belt at your waist. The second the fabric settled on your shoulders, you felt slightly less exposed, though your nerves tickled to life all the same.

Alexia noticed your little rush and chuckled quietly. “Guapa,” she teased, squeezing your hand as if to tell you there was nothing to worry about. Then she intertwined her fingers with yours, tugging gently but firmly. “Come.”

She led you through the terrace doors and inside. The villa opened up into a wide, airy space kitchen, dining, living room all flowing together. Sunlight poured in from tall windows, bouncing off white walls and pale stone floors. It smelled faintly of sea breeze, fresh herbs, and Eli’s perfume.

Three women were gathered around the dining table. Alexia guided you closer, her hand still snug in yours.

She stopped beside them, her voice warm. “Mi tía,” she introduced, nodding to the older woman, her aunt. Then she gestured to the two younger women, both with the same Putellas eyes, one with dark curls, the other with a sleek ponytail. “Mis primas.”

The cousins smiled at you one giving a little wave, the other offering a shy “hola.” They looked close to your age, maybe a year or two either side, and there was something instantly kind in their expressions.

Before you could even stumble through a hello, soft footsteps padded across the tiles, and you turned to see Eli emerging from the hallway. She caught your gaze and, without hesitation, crossed the room with a quiet, certain grace.

She didn’t speak, she didn’t need to, she simply reached for you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders in a gentle embrace.

You inhaled sharply at the tenderness of it, surprised but touched. For a moment, you forgot to move, then melted into her hug, slipping your arms around her in return.

Neither of you said a word, you couldn’t, not in words the other would understand but somehow, that silence carried everything you needed. You both smiled softly as you pulled back, your eyes speaking where language couldn’t.

The warmth of Eli’s hug lingered on your skin as you eased back, her hands slipping down your arms before she let go. She gave you that same gentle smile, one that said she was happy you were here even if she couldn’t tell you with words.

Alexia’s thumb was still stroking over the back of your hand, anchoring you. She gave the smallest nod, as though to say, see, it’s okay.

Her aunt reached out then, clasping your free hand briefly between both of hers in greeting. Her Spanish spilled out quickly, warm and welcoming, though you only caught fragments. Alexia translated in her charmingly clipped English. “She say… welcome. Happy you come.”

You smiled, a little bashful, and nodded. “Gracias,” you managed softly. That made the aunt beam.

The cousins giggled at your accent, not unkindly, just light-hearted, and introduced themselves. One had already switched into English to make it easier, teasing the other for being shy. You laughed, grateful, easing into the rhythm of it.

Still, every time your nerves threatened to get the better of you, your eyes flicked to Alexia. And every time, without fail, she was watching you already.

At one point, when her aunt asked Alexia something rapid in Spanish, Alexia’s hand slid to your lower back, rubbing absentminded circles through the thin fabric of your cover-up. You didn’t even hear the translation, too focused on how instinctive it seemed, how natural.

You tried to hide your smile by glancing down, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. But then Alexia leaned close, her lips brushing your temple, her voice low. “Is okay?” she asked, broken but careful English.

You tilted your head toward her, whispering back. “Yeah… it’s okay..”

The truth was, they were, but what steadied you most was the way she kept her hand on you like a promise, as if she knew exactly how to melt away your nerves with the simplest touch.

Eli had drifted toward the kitchen, fussing with glasses and a jug of water, but her eyes kept flicking over. She didn’t say anything, she rarely needed to but her little smile gave her away.

Alba leaned against the back of the sofa, chatting lightly with her cousins, but she was watching too. She caught the way Alexia stood a fraction closer to you than necessary, her hand a constant presence, on your wrist, your back, your fingers loosely tangled in hers. She noticed how every time you laughed with the cousins, Alexia’s gaze softened, like she was memorising the sound.

At one point, when you leaned into Alexia just slightly, your shoulder brushing hers as you looked at the photos one cousin was showing on her phone, Alba caught Eli’s eye across the room. A whole conversation seemed to pass between them in that look. Eli’s smile widened, her brow lifting just enough to say, she’s happy.

Alba returned it with a quiet smirk, like I know.

Alexia, oblivious, bent her head to whisper something in your ear. You laughed softly, your chin brushing her shoulder as you tilted your head toward her, and she let herself grin, really grin, wide and unguarded. The kind her family didn’t often see outside the pitch.

☀️

The late morning sun was already warm on your skin as you walked down the dock toward the sleek white yacht Alexia had booked. The water glittered, the air smelled of salt and sunscreen, and there was a lazy hum of chatter from her family as they filed ahead of you.

Alexia’s hand was resting lightly on your back, guiding you, steadying you on the uneven planks. She looked calm, commanding even but every so often you caught her glancing sideways at you, as though checking if you were okay.

Eli went up first, helped by one of the crew, smiling politely as she adjusted her hat. Alba and the cousins followed, laughing as they teased each other about who was going to get seasick first.

When it was your turn, Alexia offered her hand without hesitation. You couldn’t help but grin at how serious she looked about it, her brow slightly furrowed as though you might topple into the Balearic Sea if she didn’t hold you steady.

“I think I can manage a step, Ale,” you teased.

Her lips twitched into a smile. “Humour me.”

You rolled your eyes but gave her your hand, letting her guide you onto the deck. Once you were on, she didn’t let go right away, her thumb brushing across your knuckles before she finally released you.

The yacht was gorgeous, sleek lines, white cushions spread out across the bow, the faint scent of polished wood drifting up from the deck. The cousins had already sprawled out on the loungers, Alba was fiddling with the speaker system, and Eli was talking quietly with her sister.

Alexia slipped an arm around your waist, her voice low. “You like?”

You looked around, the horizon stretching endlessly blue in every direction. “I love.”

Her shoulders relaxed, that little glint of pride flickering in her eyes. As the yacht pulled away from the dock, you settled near the bow with Alexia beside you. Her family filled the space easily, laughter, music, Spanish words you didn’t understand, but the warmth of it settled into your chest like sunlight.

At one point, Alba called across, “Y/N, sunscreen! Ale burns easy!” which made Alexia groan in embarrassment. You just smirked, grabbing the bottle and patting the spot beside you.

“Come on, captain,” you teased, “safety first.”

Her cousins laughed, Eli smiled knowingly, and Alexia sighed then stretched out across the cushions, shaking her head but unable to hide her grin.

Alexia stretched out on her stomach across the cushioned lounger, propping her chin on her folded arms while you uncapped the sunscreen. The white lotion was cool on your palms, and she gave a little gasp when you first touched her back.

“Cold,” she muttered, shivering slightly.

You giggled, rubbing it gently across her shoulders. “You’ll thank me later when you’re not a lobster.”

She hummed, head turning just enough so she could peer at you from the corner of her eye. “You enjoy this too much.”

“Of course I do,” you said, working your hands in slow circles down her shoulder blades, deliberately lingering. “When else do I get to rub down the Alexia Putellas?”

Her lips twitched into a smile, and she tried to hide it by resting her cheek against her arm. “You tease.”

But the longer you worked the lotion into her skin, the quieter she grew. Her breathing evened out, her body relaxed under your touch, and you caught yourself staring at the way the sun highlighted the curve of her back, the little birthmark near her ribcage, the subtle shift of muscles as she sighed.

From across the deck, Alba called something in Spanish that made the cousins laugh. Alexia didn’t even flinch, her world, right then, seemed narrowed down to you and your hands on her skin.

“You always so careful,” she said softly, her accent thicker with relaxation. “Like… patient.”

You leaned closer, lowering your voice so only she could hear. “I couldn’t get tired of taking care of you.”

She turned her head fully then, catching your eyes, and that look, soft, almost vulnerable stole your breath for a moment. Before you could say anything else, Alba’s voice rang out again, teasing this time, “Y/N! You enjoying your job, no?”

Laughter erupted from the others. You felt your face heat up instantly, but Alexia only smirked, eyes closed again, muttering, “Ignore them.”

You bit your lip, grinning as you continued smoothing the lotion down to the small of her back. “Easier said than done.”

When you were finished, Alexia rolled onto her side, her hair falling across her shoulder in messy waves. She patted the space beside her on the lounger with that mischievous little tilt of her lips. “Ven aquí,” she murmured, voice low but clear enough over the hum of the yacht’s engine and the laughter from her family at the stern.

You hesitated just for show, glancing toward the others, then sank down beside her. The instant you settled, her arm looped around your waist, tugging you closer until your forehead brushed hers. “You know they’re all watching,” you whispered with a soft laugh, fingers brushing her jaw.

“Mm,” Alexia hummed, pretending not to care, though the pink at the tops of her cheeks betrayed her. “Let them.”

Her lips found yours, slow and lingering, the kind of kiss that had no urgency just comfort, connection. You sighed into it, letting yourself melt, your hand slipping beneath her hair at the nape of her neck. She tasted faintly of sunscreen and salt air, and you couldn’t help the quiet giggle that escaped when she kissed you again, just a little firmer this time.

“You laugh,” she murmured against your mouth, “but you don’t stop.”

“Not planning to.” You pressed another kiss to her, lazier than the last, both of you stretching out under the sun like it was the most natural thing in the world.

☀️

The sea stretched out endlessly, glittering under the sun. You had been leaning on the rail for a while, sunglasses shielding your eyes, just breathing. No phone, no notifications, no agenda. Just waves, warmth, and the hum of laughter drifting from the bow where her cousins were.

You felt Alexia step close before you saw her, her arm brushing against yours, she slipped her phone into view, tilting it so you could see the screen. Dozens of candid shots stared back at you, your hair wind-tossed, eyes crinkled from smiling, even one where you were looking out over the horizon completely unaware.

“I take pictures… for your Instagram dump,” she said, her English halting but soft, like she was almost shy about it.

Your chest tightened, warmth blooming there. You turned toward her, cupping her face gently, your thumb grazing her cheekbone as you leaned in to kiss her. It was tender, unhurried just a kiss that said more than words could.

Pulling back, you smiled against her lips. “Thank you, baby. But I won’t be posting this on Instagram.”

Her brows knit, confused. “No? Why not?”

You shook your head lightly, still stroking her jaw with your thumb. “Because this holiday is for me, not my followers. For us. No one else needs to see.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, then closed again. She blinked once, twice, before her expression softened completely, something quiet flickering in her eyes. She slipped her free hand into yours, weaving your fingers together, squeezing gently.

“Solo… for us,” she repeated in her accent, and for once, she didn’t try to hide how much that meant to her.

☀️

The breeze was softer now, the yacht drifting steady as everyone settled into their own rhythms you’d gone back to your seat with Alexia, legs tangled lazily as you sipped water and just soaked it all in.

Then she shifted, pulling her hair over one shoulder before glancing back at you with a little grin. “Más crema… por favor,” she said, tapping her shoulder blade, then added in English, “Put on my back?”

You chuckled, already reaching for the bottle, but couldn’t resist leaning close to murmur in her ear, “Another girlfriend job when I’m not your girlfriend, hm?”

Her head turned just enough to give you a look over her shoulder half amused, half mock-offended. “Ay, you always tease me.”

You squeezed a bit of lotion into your palms, rubbing them together before sliding your hands slowly over her warm skin. “I mean,” you said playfully, tracing little circles across her shoulder blades, “I’m cooking, cleaning, putting sun cream on you… sounds like girlfriend privileges to me.”

Alexia hummed, eyes closed, clearly enjoying the feeling as she leaned into your touch. “Maybe… you like girlfriend job.”

You smirked, leaning closer until your lips brushed the curve of her ear. “Maybe. Depends who the girlfriend is.”

That earned you a laugh low and genuine from her, her shoulders shaking beneath your hands. She tipped her head back, catching your eye upside down with a soft, cheeky smile. “Muppet,” she muttered, and you couldn’t help but lean down and kiss her quickly before finishing the job.

You smoothed the last bit of sun cream into her shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze before sitting back with a satisfied nod. Alexia turned around, her hair falling forward as she caught your knee with her hand, looking at you with that lazy grin that made your stomach flip.

“You are cute,” she said matter of factly, like she’d just stated the colour of the sky.

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Excuse me? No, you’re cute.”

She shook her head immediately, smirking. “No, you.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back into the cushions with mock seriousness. “Alexia Putellas, world’s best footballer, two Ballon d’Ors, captain of Barcelona, calls me cute? That’s rich.”

Her lips parted in a playful gasp. “You say I not cute?”

“I’m saying you’re beautiful,” you countered, leaning in closer, “but I’m definitely not cuter than you.”

She narrowed her eyes, then poked a finger into your side, making you squeak and laugh. “See? Cute.”

You swatted at her hand, still giggling. “No! That doesn’t count.”

Alexia leaned forward until your foreheads touched, her smile softening into something a little more tender. “You don’t see. You are cuter than me.”

You brushed your thumb over her cheekbone, grinning helplessly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you are adorable,” she shot back quickly, almost like it was a reflex.

You groaned dramatically, collapsing against her shoulder. “We’re actually arguing about who’s cuter. This is ridiculous.”

“Sí,” Alexia agreed, laughing as she wrapped her arm around you. Then she tilted your chin up with a fingertip, whispering smugly, “But… I win.”

You couldn’t help but kiss her, right there, sealing the silly argument in the only way that made sense.

Your chin rested comfortably on her shoulder, the warmth of the sun making the whole world feel soft and golden. Alexia’s hand idly traced circles on your thigh, her touch light and absentminded, but grounding in the best way. You let your fingertips trail lazily over the lines of her abs, following the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.

She hummed low in her throat, almost like a purr, turning her head slightly so her temple brushed against yours. “You like to do that,” she murmured, her English heavy with the softness of her accent.

“Mm?” you teased, still drawing lazy paths across her skin. “What, touch you?”

Alexia’s lips curved into a small, smug smile. “Always touching me.”

You grinned, your fingertips dipping lower before skimming back up, just enough to make her shift under your touch. “And you always letting me,” you whispered against her ear.

She laughed quietly, her shoulders shaking under your chin. “Because… I like.”

The honesty in her tone made you pause for a moment, your chest tightening in that warm, heart aching way you’d been feeling around her more and more lately. You pressed a soft kiss to the side of her neck, right where her pulse beat steady. “I like it too,” you admitted, voice low, almost carried away by the sound of the waves slapping gently against the yacht.

Alexia’s hand gave your thigh a gentle squeeze, her thumb stroking slowly against your skin. She tilted her head enough to catch your lips with hers in a slow, unhurried kiss. A kiss that tasted of salt and sunscreen and sunshine, a kiss that said more than words could manage. When she pulled back, her forehead still against yours, her grin was playful again. “See… cute and romantic.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the smile breaking across your face. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist,” she countered instantly, the smirk tugging at her lips betraying just how pleased she was with herself.

Alexia shifted slightly, as she glanced sideways at you, her lips tugging into a grin. “You call me… baby,” she said suddenly, her voice a mix of playful and curious, like she was savoring the word.

You blinked, then smirked. “Did I?”

Her grin grew, smug and satisfied. “Sí. You did.”

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss just under her jaw, letting your lips linger there. “Well,” you whispered, teasing lilt in your voice, “that’s because you are my baby.”

She burst out laughing immediately, her head falling back against your shoulder as she tried to repeat it. “Your… baby?” Her accent made the words sound even more ridiculous, which only sent her into more giggles.

You grinned into her skin, kissing down her neck as she squirmed. “Yes, my baby,” you teased again, dragging the words out as your lips brushed over her collarbone.

Alexia laughed so hard she had to grab your wrist, trying to half-heartedly push you away. “No, no, you so silly!” she exclaimed, still giggling, her whole body shaking under you.

“Admit it,” you said between kisses to her cheek and shoulder, “you love being my baby.”

She covered her face with her free hand, muffling her laugh. “Stop! Too much.”

You only giggled against her, kissing along her jaw again, until she finally gave in, tilting her head and capturing your lips in a soft, laughing kiss. When she pulled back, her cheeks were pink, her smile wide, and her eyes sparkling with that open warmth she only gave you.

“You crazy,” she said fondly, still chuckling. “But… maybe I like.”

Your lips were still brushing along her shoulder when you muttered against her skin, soft but teasing, “Still not your girlfriend though.”

You felt the reaction instantly, her body shifted, her laughter quieted, and her hand slid from your thigh to your chin. Gently but firmly, Alexia tilted your face up to hers, her fingers warm and steady as her eyes locked onto yours.

“Muppet,” she said with a soft groan of exasperation, though the corners of her mouth betrayed the start of a smile. “No more. You ruin surprise.”

Your brows lifted, lips curving slyly. “Surprise?”

“Sí, surprise.” She gave your chin a light squeeze, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Stop. No more talk.”

You grinned, leaning forward just enough to press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose. “You’re planning a surprise? For when?”

Her eyes softened but she shook her head, releasing your chin as if to regain control. “Shhh,” she hushed, placing her finger briefly against your lips. “When time is… right.”

You tilted your head, pretending to pout even as your heart gave a traitorous little flutter. “Fine. I’ll stop teasing.”

Alexia arched an eyebrow, clearly not believing you for a second. “You never stop,” she muttered, but her voice was warm, almost indulgent. She leaned in and kissed you, slow and lingering, her thumb brushing your jaw as if to punctuate the moment. When she finally pulled back, she whispered, “But is okay… I like.”

☀️

The sea was calm, sunlight scattering diamonds across the water as the yacht drifted. You and Alexia had tucked yourselves into your own little corner of the deck heads close, lips brushing, fingers tracing lazy patterns over each other’s skin. You barely noticed the quiet glances being exchanged a few feet away.

At the shaded table near the stern, Eli sat with Alba and Alexia’s two cousins, sipping cool drinks, their conversation dropping low as they watched the scene unfold.

“Look at her,” one cousin murmured in Spanish, her chin gesturing subtly toward you and Alexia. “She is… different with her. Softer.”

Alba smirked knowingly. “I told you. The moment I saw them together for the first time, I knew.”

Eli only smiled, her eyes fixed on the way Alexia leaned in to steal another kiss, her hand resting so naturally on your thigh like it had always belonged there. But she didn’t speak, letting the younger women voice their thoughts.

The other cousin hesitated before admitting, “I’ll be honest… when I first heard Alexia was with… an influencer” she almost whispered the word, “I thought maybe it was… you know, for attention. That she was being used.” She sighed, shaking her head as she watched the way you tucked a strand of Alexia’s hair back behind her ear. “But seeing them now? Dios mío. I was wrong. So wrong.”

Eli’s lips curved with quiet pride, her hand resting on the table. “She is happy,” she said softly, in that certain way only a mother could.

Alba chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Happy? She’s smitten. Have you seen her grin? Alexia never smiles like that with anyone. Ever.”

The cousins exchanged a small laugh, the worry easing from their faces. The one who had spoken first sighed again, this time almost in relief. “Then good. She deserves this. With everything… she deserves someone who makes her laugh like that.”

Eli finally looked away from her eldest, catching Alba’s eye. “She is safe,” she said simply. Alba nodded, her smirk softening into a genuine smile.

And as if to prove their point, Alexia let out an unrestrained giggle at something you whispered, throwing her head back in a way none of them could remember seeing before.

☀️

The golden light of late afternoon spilled into the yacht’s cabin, the hum of the sea soft in the background. The whole family had gathered around the long table, a deck of Spanish playing cards spread out between you all. The air was filled with laughter, half playful arguments, and a little bit of good natured cheating.

You were perched between Alexia and Alba, cards fanned in your hands, trying desperately to make sense of the rules Alba had explained twice already.

“Vale, vale, tu turno,” Alba nudged you, grinning when you just blinked at the table.

“I… uh…” you glanced down at the cards, then over at Alexia for rescue. “What do I do again?”

Alexia, trying and failing not to laugh, leaned closer. “Put… this one” she gently tapped one of your cards, “down.”

“Why?” you asked suspiciously, narrowing your eyes.

“Trust me,” Alexia smirked, her confidence unwavering.

You hesitated, then laid the card down, which immediately set Eli clapping her hands together and exclaiming something rapid in Spanish that you didn’t understand at all.

“Is that good?” you whispered to Alexia.

“Muy bueno,” Alexia chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple as if to reward you.

Across the table, one of her cousins groaned. “She is a beginner and still wins?!” she said, earning laughs all around.

You then only caught your name in the flurry of Spanish and raised your brows questioningly. “They… they talking about me, aren’t they?”

Alba grinned. “Yes. They say… you lucky.”

“Lucky?” you laughed, tilting your head.

Eli, sitting opposite, smiled warmly at you and said something soft and melodic in Spanish, her tone so gentle it didn’t matter that you couldn’t understand.

Alexia touched your hand under the table, translating simply: “She say… Alexia lucky.”

The words sank in, warmth blooming in your chest. You gave Eli a small smile, nodding in thanks even though you couldn’t form a proper reply. She seemed to understand anyway, her own smile widening.

The game continued, filled with playful cheating accusations (mostly directed at Alexia), Alba theatrically groaning whenever you happened to put down the 'right' card by accident, and cousins bursting into laughter at your confused but determined Spanish attempts.

It didn’t matter that you only caught fragments of the words flying across the table the laughter, the smiles, and the way Alexia kept brushing her knee against yours under the table told you everything you needed to know, you belonged here.

☀️

The sun was just beginning to dip low, painting Ibiza’s waters in shades of gold as the yacht eased back into the marina. The whole family bustled about, gathering bags and towels, laughter and chatter spilling over the deck after a day of sea air, food, and games. You were walking down the ramp with Alba at your side, the two of you still giggling about the ridiculous cheating drama Alexia’s cousin had stirred up during cards.

“So, next time,” Alba was saying, eyes bright with amusement, “you no let Ale choose your card, eh? She, how you say, cheats for you!”

You laughed, clutching the strap of your bag. “That explains why I won half the rounds. I thought I’d developed a hidden talent.”

Alba shook her head, still grinning. “No, no talent. Just Ale.”

You were about to make a playful retort when, out of the corner of your eye, you caught sight of a figure standing by the edge of the pier, phone in hand, sunglasses pushed into their hair. Your breath caught in your throat.

It was like all the sound around you dimmed. Your steps faltered, your laughter cut short as your gaze fixed on them. Alba noticed immediately, her brows knitting. “¿Qué pasa? What is it?” she asked, following your stare, but you didn’t answer at first.

Your body went rigid, colour draining from your face, it wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be, and yet the outline, the posture, the way they tilted their head as they scrolled it was hauntingly familiar.

Your chest tightened, heart hammering against your ribs as you looked back toward the figure on the pier, afraid and desperate all at once. Your steps had turned heavy, dragging. The closer you came to the edge of the pier, the sharper your breathing became.

Alba nudged you gently, a frown pulling at her features. “Hey… you okay? You look pale.”

Your eyes were locked ahead. The figure by the railing had moved slightly, leaning down to check something in their tote bag. Their hair caught the evening light the exact shade you remembered running your fingers through on nights you’d rather forget. The cut of their shoulders in that sleeveless white top, the way they absently chewed their lip while waiting for something.

It couldn’t be, but it was. You stopped dead in your tracks. Your throat went dry, your voice breaking as you muttered, “Alba… that’s… that’s Lily.” Alba glanced over, eyes narrowing. She didn’t understand immediately, until you added, your voice shaking, “My ex I was telling you about”

Her gaze snapped back to you, then to the figure. She’d heard the late-night confessions over wine, the bits you’d let slip about how much damage Lily had done. Enough to know that the name itself carried weight.

Alba grabbed your wrist, squeezing gently. “Wait, that’s Lily? Here? In Ibiza?”

You could barely nod. Your body screamed to turn away, to hide, but your legs carried you forward, past the railings where Lily now stood scrolling through her phone like she hadn’t just cracked open every wound you’d been working so hard to heal.

Your hand shook against your bag strap. You forced yourself to keep walking, Alba right at your side, her arm brushing yours in solidarity, you just wanted to get back to the sanity of the villa.

You were so close now you could hear the clink of Lily’s bracelets when she adjusted her bag. And though she hadn’t looked up yet, every muscle in your body was braced for it for that exact moment when her eyes would lift and recognition would strike.

Behind you, Alexia and her family had just started stepping off the yacht, their voices carrying distantly. You didn’t dare turn around.

You kept your head down, but it was no use Lily’s gaze lifted at the exact moment you passed. Her eyes widened, recognition flashing instantly before narrowing into something colder. “Well,” she said, her voice smooth and cutting, carrying that same mocking lilt you remembered too well. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You froze, your heart was thundering, palms clammy. Her tone wasn’t friendly, wasn’t surprised in any kind of warm way. Just sharp, arsey, exactly like you remembered.

Lily’s gaze flicked to Alba at your side, then back to you. “Moving on quick, aren’t you?” she drawled, as though her words were some clever dagger.

Before you could even form a reply, Alba stepped closer, her jaw tightening. She slipped her hand into yours, fingers interlacing deliberately, firmly. “We were just leaving,” she said in her accented English, cool and clipped, protective in a way that left no space for Lily’s barbs.

Lily tilted her head, that smug little half-smile tugging at her lips. “Of course you are. Run along then.”

Alba didn’t rise to it. She gave your hand the smallest squeeze a silent come on. She guided you forward, pulling you gently but firmly down the dock, putting her body between you and Lily’s lingering stare.

Your chest felt tight, shame and hurt and panic twisting all together, but Alba’s grip was grounding. She didn’t let go, not once, Alba tugged on your hand gently, confused as to why you weren't moving, but the fire boiling in your chest wouldn’t let you walk away.

Months of swallowing your words, of letting Lily’s digs cut and fester in silence, all came rushing out at once.

“No,” you snapped, your voice sharper than even you expected. Lily's head snapped to yours, surprise flickering across her face as you finally stood up to her. “You don’t get to do that,” you spat, your finger pointing at her like it burned. “You don’t get to look at me, or at who I’m with, and make your shitty little comments about how fast I’ve moved on.” Your voice was trembling, but loud raw with truth.

Lily blinked, her smirk faltering.

“Because at least I” your chest heaved, years of pain catching up with your tongue, “at least I waited until it was over to be with someone else.” Your voice cracked, tears stinging your eyes, but you pushed forward. “You? You couldn’t even give me that respect. You couldn’t even give us that respect.”

Alba’s hand was on your arm now, steadying, but she didn’t stop you.

Lily’s face drained of colour, her jaw tightening. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. For once, she had no smart remark, no cruel little dig lined up.

“So don’t,” you finished, your voice steel now, fierce in a way you hadn’t felt in so long. “Don’t you ever dare stand there and act like you’ve got the right to say a word about me. Or about who I’m with. Not when you burned it all down yourself.”

For the first time since you’d met her, Lily looked small.

The silence hung heavy, your chest heaving, until you felt Alba’s hand give your arm the softest squeeze. She leaned closer, her voice low but steady. “Come,” she murmured. “You said what you need.”

Lily blinked, then a slow, cruel smile spread across her face. “Oh, look at you,” she drawled, her tone sharp. “All fired up. You really think you’re in a position to talk to me like that?”

Something in you snapped further, but now, for the first time, it wasn’t fear it was confidence. You squared your shoulders, lifted your chin, and let the words come without hesitation. “I am in a position to talk to you like that,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Because I’ve grown up since you last had anything to do with me. And I’m not letting you disrespect me, or anyone I care about. You don’t get that power anymore.”

Lily’s smirk faltered, replaced by a flash of anger. “You always think you’re better than me—”

“I don’t think I’m better,” you interrupted, stepping closer. “I am better and I finally know my worth. So don’t test me.”

At that moment, Alexia appeared beside you, stepping confidently into the space between you and Lily. Her hands were on her hips, her body a shield, her eyes low and sharp as she spoke in that firm, quiet tone she used when she wanted you to follow her lead. “Enough,” she said, her voice a soft but deadly rumble. “We go. Now.”

You glanced at her, heart still racing, and nodded. Alba’s hand tightened around yours. Lily opened her mouth to retort again, but Alexia didn’t flinch, the very presence of her between you and Lily made it clear this wasn’t a fight she’d let continue.

Lily’s lips curled into a sly, venomous grin. “Oh, don’t think I won’t make your little life even messier,” she sneered. “Maybe I’ll just call the English press… let them know what you’re doing. Could be fun, yeah? Burst your little bubble.”

The rage you’d felt moments ago flared again, hotter this time. You stepped closer, voice low, cold, and controlled. “If you even think about dragging Alexia into this, Lily… you’ll regret it. I made sure you got attention when you so desperately wanted it, and I can make sure it all stops just as quick.”

Her smile faltered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face for the first time. “You… you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” you said firmly, your eyes locking with hers. “And I will. So either back off, or get ready to regret ever opening your mouth about her. You don’t involve her. Got it?”

Lily opened her mouth again, but you could see the fight draining from her. Alexia’s presence beside you, steady and protective, only made your words hit harder. Alba squeezed your hand tighter, and for the first time, you felt like you were not just standing up for yourself, but for the people you loved most in that moment.

Lily finally straightened her shoulders, her smirk gone, and muttered something under her breath before turning away. You let yourself breathe, adrenaline still pumping, as Alexia stepped closer, her hands resting lightly on your arms.

“Todo bien?” she asked softly, her tone calm but still carrying that strength only she could muster.

You nodded, voice a little shaky but filled with relief. “Yeah...”

You now walked in silence, the warm Ibiza breeze brushing past you, the sound of the waves fading behind the dock. Your thoughts are still spinning from the confrontation, and your hands clench and unclench at your sides. Suddenly, Alexia slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close, and presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Who was that?” she asks quietly, her voice laced with concern.

You sigh, letting yourself relax just a fraction against her. “It was Lily,” you admit.

Alexia glances back over her shoulder, her jaw tight, a protective scowl forming. Across the dock, Lily catches sight of Alexia pulling you closer, shielding you without a word, and her expression falters. She clearly hadn’t expected this quiet strength, this unwavering loyalty, this unspoken warning in Alexia’s posture.

You lean into Alexia slightly, feeling both safe and cherished, letting the tension of the evening begin to slip away as you continue the walk back to the rental together.

But when you got into the safety of the villa, the vibe switched on a dime, you watch Alexia storm up the stairs, her movements sharp and brisk, clearly annoyed. Your stomach twists a little , did you push too far with Lily? The worry nags at you, so after a moment, you follow quietly, not wanting to intrude.

You pause in the doorway of your shared room, hesitating as she fusses around, straightening things that didn’t need straightening, muttering under her breath in broken English. She doesn’t notice you at first, and the sight tugs at your heart you’ve rarely seen her flustered like this.

Finally, you clear your throat gently and ask in a small, cautious voice, “Are you mad at me?”

Alexia stops, turning to glance at you with softened eyes. “No… I not mad,” she says, shaking her head, but there’s a hint of tension still in her posture. “I just… want little time alone, yes?”

You feel a pang of sadness but nod slowly, trying to hide it. “Okay… I’ll be downstairs,” you murmur, giving her a small, reassuring smile before retreating quietly, the door clicking softly behind you.

You quietly make your way down the stairs, careful not to make a sound that would disturb Alexia. Once in the kitchen, you grab a bottle of water from the fridge, the cool condensation refreshing in your hand. Carrying it outside, you step onto the terrace and take a deep breath of the warm, salty sea air.

The gentle sway of the palm trees and the sound of the distant waves immediately calm your nerves. You tilt your head back, letting the sea breeze cool your face, and take a long sip of water, trying to clear your mind and settle the little knot of worry lingering in your chest.

For a few moments, you just stand there, taking it all in letting the breeze and the quiet lull your thoughts, giving both yourself and Alexia the space you need.

You hug the bottle a little closer, the warmth of the sun doing little to lift the sudden heaviness in your chest. A frown tugs at your lips as you replay the earlier confrontation with Lily, the sharp words you’d finally dared to say.

A pang of sadness hits you, what if Alexia saw a side of you she didn't like? A version that’s confrontational, maybe even angry? Your mind drifts to her face, how she’d scowled, how protective she’d tried to be, and now you can’t help but worry. Maybe she’d been disappointed, maybe she’d think you’d lost your softness, the easy, playful side she usually loves.

You sigh quietly, taking another sip of water, staring out at the horizon, feeling that familiar ache of vulnerability that comes with caring so much about someone’s opinion of you.

[maeshoneyles]

no one understands my obsession with her.

[maeshoneyles]

the syllabus for my fiction & poetry writing class:

i am not interested in reading about:

happiness

[maeshoneyles]

absolutely melting one of my favorite writers on here js followed me OH MY i’m fangirling wow

[maeshoneyles]

https://www.tumblr.com/maeshoneyles/792851416903467008/so-adorable-i-love-how-protective-they-both-got?source=share

I think I am gonna cry. Yesterday one person, who's writing I love, reposted a story now you (another writer I adore on here) did. 🫣

I am really glad you liked it.💞

stop it i love your writing too!! always down to support another great creator on here 💞💞

[maeshoneyles]

so adorable i love how protective they both got

Roots and Branches

Lucy Bronze × Ona Batlle × Child!Reader

Summary: a beautiful day out turns into a drama when your biological father turns up. Both you and your Mami get scared. But Mama protects her girls. Always.

Warnings: Derogatory Language. Implied Homophobia. Deadbeat dad mention.

Masterlist

The café terrace was bustling with families enjoying the warm Barcelona afternoon. Ona had chosen it because you could scribble happily on the paper placemats while she and Lucy shared coffee and quiet conversation. It was a perfect Sunday. Ordinary. Safe. You had been here dozens of times before and you loved it. It was a good way to finish a nice day outside with your Mama's, get some yummy chocolate cake and draw an awesome dinosaur tea-party.

Until a voice shattered it.

“Ona.”

Ona stiffened before she even turned, the sound of her name like ice down her spine. Lucy followed her gaze and felt her stomach drop. A man stood there. Dark eyes, familiar jawline. He was older than the photos Ona had shown her, but still recognizable. Your biological father. And next to him, a much younger woman with sunglasses perched on her head, glancing around with a smile that faltered under the tension. You looked up for a second but didn't recognize him, how would you? You hadn't seen this man since you were around a year old. He didn't exist in your world. Your world was Mami, Mama and your aunts at Barcelona. Especially Aunt Ale, who was your godmother and favorite babysitter.

“Pablo.” Ona said flatly and Lucy’s pulse spiked. She instinctively shifted her chair closer to you, who was still coloring, oblivious to what was going on. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” Ona continued, voice careful.

“Neither did I.” Pablo said smoothly, though the smirk tugging at his mouth felt deliberate. His gaze flicked to the little girl at the table, then back at Ona. “But… What a coincidence. That must be Y/N. She's gotten so big. But she looks like me.”

Lucy almost scoffs. You didn't look like him. You looked like a mini Ona. The same hair and eye color, the same cheeky smile. You were just adorable in her eyes.

You finally looked up, blinking at the stranger again, but you really didn't recognize him. Then you glanced at Lucy and wriggled closer to her side. “Mama?” You whispered confused and scared about who this stranger was. “Who's that?”

Lucy’s heart clenched. She dropped a hand to your curls. “It’s okay, Stompi. I’ve got you.”

The word Mama landed like a blow. Pablo’s expression darkened. “So that’s what you’ve taught her?” he sneered and glared at Ona. “Calling this—” he gestured sharply at Lucy “—Mama? That's not okay. I told you I didn't want my child to be raised near all those faggots. And now you went and chose to be one too?”

“Watch your mouth.” Lucy snapped before she could stop herself. Ona's scared eyes and your little hands clinging to her for comfort were just too much for her to keep her calm. She couldn't do it. She needed to keep you two safe.

Pablo raised his brows, almost amused. “What, I’m not allowed to speak the truth? You’re not her mother. You’re playing house with a child that isn’t yours. Pretending and sinning. Sleeping with another woman.”

“I’m not pretending.” Lucy shot back, heat rising in her chest. She got up and put you in Ona's lap before positioning herself between the guy and her girls. She'd do anything to keep them safe. Her little family. “I’m raising her.”

Pablo laughed, a short, cutting sound. “You? You think buying her toys and tucking her in makes you a parent? You think standing here for a few years erases the fact that I’m her father?”

“You walked away when she was a baby.” Ona interjected shakily, her voice quiet. It was obvious she was scared of him but tried to be strong. Lucy immediately felt herself become even more protective. This man wouldn't hurt her girl. She listens as Ona continues.. “Don’t you dare come back and act like—”

“I had my reasons.” Pablo interrupted, dismissive, “and I don’t owe anyone an explanation. She’s my daughter.” His eyes cut back to Lucy, cold and cruel. “And you’ll never be anything more than her babysitter with benefits.”

Lucy’s vision blurred red. She found herself towering over him, fists clenched. “Don’t you dare diminish what I’ve done for her. I’ve been here for every birthday, every doctor’s visit, every night she cried and needed comfort. Where the hell were you?”

“I didn’t see you in the delivery room.” Pablo fired back. “Didn’t see you when she took her first steps. You’re just the woman sleeping with her mother. That doesn’t make you a parent.”

Suddenly your little voice wavered, frightened by the raised tones. “Mama?”

Lucy’s rage cracked, replaced by protectiveness so fierce it made her throat ache. She crouched, gathering you into her arms while resting her other hand on Ona's back to hold.jer close as well. “I’m here. I’m right here. You don’t have to be scared. Mami and I are here. I'll keep you and Mami safe always and forever.”

Pablo’s face twisted. “See? Confusing the poor girl. She doesn’t even know who her real parents are because of you.”

“That’s enough.” Ona hissed, stepping between him and the table, her body rigid with fury. Seeing how upset you were clearly triggered some kind of momma bear instincts inside of her. “You forfeited the right to call yourself her father when you disappeared. Don’t come back now and try to tear down the person who’s given her the love you never bothered to. Lucy is her mama. She's been there for every second of her life since the moment she met her. She hasn't missed one important thing. She's been there for all illnesses and even flew back from a training camp two days early to be here when our little one had to get her appendix removed.”

His girlfriend tugged on his arm, whispering urgently. He glared at Lucy one last time, eyes full of venom. “You’ll never be her real parent. Remember that.” Then he let himself be pulled away, muttering under his breath.

The café’s chatter swelled back around them, but the terrace felt suffocating. Lucy sank into her chair, trembling, You pressed against her chest with little arms wrapped tight around her neck as Ona still stood there shaking before sitting down next to Lucy and clinging to the two of you.

“I just want my mami and mama.” You whispered, your small voice shaking with confusion and fear. Lucy closed her eyes, pressing a kiss to your curls. “I’m here, kiddo. Always. And Mami is here too. Don't worry.” Ona nods and kisses your nose. “Mama and I love you so much. You're our baby. Just pure to love and care for.”

---

Back home, hours later, the anger hadn’t faded. Lucy sat on the sofa in silence, head in her hands. Ona watched her, torn between fury and worry. Finally, Lucy broke the quiet. “He’s right.” Her voice cracked. “I’m not her real parent. I’ve just been pretending. Pretending I belong in this family.”

Ona crossed the room in three strides and dropped to her knees in front of her. “No,” she said fiercely. “Don’t you ever believe that.” She grabbed Lucy’s hands, squeezing tight. “He left, Lucy. He left when she needed him most. And you… you stayed. You’ve been there every day, for almost three years. That’s not pretending. That’s love. That’s being her parent.”

Lucy’s lip trembled. “But what if she grows up and sees it differently? What if she—”

“She won’t.” Ona cut in, softer now, eyes wet. “Because she knows who her mama is. She made that choice the moment she could speak. And she’s never stopped.” Lucy swallowed, tears spilling. Ona hesitated, then took a shaky breath. “Maybe it’s time we make it official. Adoption.”

Lucy froze, lifting her head slowly.

“Ona…”

“She’s yours as much as she’s mine.” Ona whispered. “She deserves that security. *You* deserve it too. Let’s give it to her… besides if something were to happen it would ensure she stays with you and not goes to that man. She's our baby. Ours. DNA doesn't matter.”

Lucy’s breath broke on a sob as she pulled Ona into a desperate hug.

From the bedroom, a small voice called out, “Mama are you crying?”

Lucy went, wiping her face quickly. She knelt by your bed, taking the tiny hand you offered sleepy. “I’m here, little one. Always. I’m not going anywhere.”

You sighed, already drifting back to sleep, your grip tightening on Lucy’s fingers. In the end both Lucy and Ona decided to take you to the big bed for the night where you slept tightly cuddled into them with your dinosaur plushies.

And for the first time since Pablo appeared earlier that afternoon, Lucy finally believed she belonged. This moment was hers… she had Ona, the woman she loved more than anything and anyone she loved before. Even thinking about the Spaniard made her smile. Ona was just amazing and she could never put into words how much she loved her.

And through Ona she had you. Her first baby. Even if she wasn't your biological Mother you had so much from her. You loved Legos and puzzles, you loved ice baths, you twirled your baby hairs like she did. You cut your pancakes the same way she did or you wouldn't eat them… and seeing you sleeping she noticed it again. You even clung to warmth in your sleep like she did. No matter what DNA said, you were her baby.

[maeshoneyles]

Little rent!

I went on a little feedback spree over some fics I've been meaning to read (and share my thoughts on) for a while. While doing that, I couldn't help but notice the weird ratio between likes, reblogs, and comments.

So I'm here to share my two cents about the woso community (and the fic community in general).

Most people on Tumblr who give feedback (and I'm not even talking about detailed feedback, just a simple "I liked this :D") are usually other writers.

Mainly because we know how upsetting it is to write something and then just hear crickets in return.

But honestly, I don't think it should be the writers' job to keep a community together. The writers (and other creators, such as gif makers and editors) are already keeping it alive with their own creations. And yet, the feedback we get is often so little that it feels like we're posting into a void.

I guess I just wanted to say that a community is built on interactions, and interactions shouldn't only be likes and empty reblogs.

I'm not saying you need to like every fic, or read every single one, but maybe try to share your thoughts a little when you do enjoy something (a fic, a gif, an edit, whatever).

Because right now, writers and other creators are leaving this space. Sometimes it feels like the stuff we put out is just consumed without any kind of interaction.

Anyway… if you disagree, that's fine too. This is just my opinion as someone who's been reading/writing fanfic and interacting in fandom communities since I was 11 hehe.

[maeshoneyles]

if anyone has any blurb requests feel free to send them to my inbox 🙏🏻🙏🏻 i’m not going to have the time for a lot of full length fics in the next few weeks but i’d love to get some small things out

[maeshoneyles]

https://www.tumblr.com/maeshoneyles/792695253317582848/father-tongues-part-1?source=share

Okay but as someone who lost their dad at 14 and gave up on their dream to study history/archeology like their dad had always hoped/dreamed with them.... This hit hard. But it also kinda healed a bit.

I can't wait for the next part. You're a really talented writer.🫶🏼

thank you for sharing, i’m glad i could help in any way and im so happy you enjoyed 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 part 2 is in the works!

[maeshoneyles]

ok wow wow wow wow wow i absolutely loved father tongues, ngl when you said madrid reader i was like oh uhh okay but i trusted you and im so glad i did because that was amazing soo looking forward to part 2, take your time tho obvs, thank you for this and putting your time and effort in to make these fics for us!

thank you for reading and enjoying! yes i was sure i was gonna scare some people off with the madrid thing but i think it ended up alright haha

[maeshoneyles]

wow this is truly amazing i love the way you’ve written these characters!

This Thing is Toxic

Part 3

Based off @muffinpink02's A Little Cocky A Little Toxic Jenni fic. I posted a Part 2 last week - definitely give both a read first if you haven't yet; they're all related.

Jenni and you have this thing going on. It's hot but definitely not healthy. You've made your decision on if it's worth continuing.

Wordcount: 5.6k

Warnings: 18+ for smut

Part 1

Part 2

Your head has made a choice, and your heart vehemently disagrees.

You need to end this thing with Jenni.

Your heart clenches at the thought, but it is also so damn battered at this point. You aren't sure how much more you can possibly take.

It's been six weeks since the last time you ended up under her. And nothing since. Not for her lack of trying. She has messaged to get together at least four times.

You said yes to her first ask but cancelled last minute when Isla gave you the look at hearing you were planning on seeing Jenni again. Your mistake for venting (sobbing) to Isla after the last time when something inside you broke in that Uber ride home.

And so you tried to listen to the opinions of some of your other friends—let her go, don't engage, just let the spark fade.

But it hasn't. She's still in your bloodstream, something still coursing through you and tying you both together.

Oddly enough, Isla is the one you decide to listen to for advice.

Chica, you see her one more time, but you make it everything you need. These past months have all been what she wanted out of your time together. You take what you need this last time and then break the connection once and for all. You need closure.

You can't seem to let the thought go.

Jenni will always have this power over you. And if you don't address it, she'll always be loitering in the background, slithering into your thoughts, haunting your dreams.

You text her. Direct. To the point. She should understand the message. It's the only thing you communicate about anyways.

(You)

You free?

She leaves you on read, which isn't fully unexpected. Maybe the idea of closure will have to be this—one-way communication that dwindles into nothingness. But then she texts you back two days later, as if the delay in answering puts her back in the driver's seat.

(Jenni)

Oh, remember my number finally?

(You)

Don't be dramatic

I know you've had no problem keeping your bed warm without me

(Jenni)

Fine.

Tomorrow. 11pm. My place.

If you cancel this time, cari…

She lets the threat linger. What she'll do you have no clue. And with your decision made that this is the last time, you don't much care. You don't even bother responding, letting the conversation end there.

---------------------------

The following night you're punctual, using the intercom to call up to her penthouse suite exactly at 11pm.

She lets it ring six times before her voice crackles over the speaker, buzzing you through. You suppose she's still salty about being abandoned and then ignored for a few weeks. Which you can understand. You would be irritate about that too.

But the immaturity of her deliberately making you wait tonight has you rolling your eyes as the lift climbs up to the very top floor, her floor.

Jenni is waiting for you when the lift opens, leaning against her door jam. Her arms are crossed and she looks mildly peeved.

You take two steps out of the lift and stop. The air is silent except for the elevator doors slowly closing behind you.

Neither of you speak.

She stares you down. You rely on that backbone Isla helped you build earlier tonight, full of words of affirmation, proclamations of your worth, and reminders of what having Jenni takes from you.

Finally she cracks first.

"Cari, long time no see."

You shrug, going for nonchalance. "I've been busy. Work, you know," you trail off.

Jenni just drops her gaze to peruse your body.

You wore nothing like your usual apparel—short skirt or tight dress, hot and flirty. You're in soft linen pants and a crop tank top with a button up for warmth. Comfortable. Because you need to feel like you and not her treat of the night if you're going to do this, break the bond.

Just once.

You need to feel like you get to have her, not the girl this situationship has molded you into accepting, but the true you. The relationship-focused you, the classic-movies-after-a-hard-day you, the you-sound-sick-I-made-homemade-soup you. The stripped down and bare version of you. The kind and bubbly and confident version that all your friends and family know.

She catches her bottom lip in her teeth, worrying the flesh, before she steps back and beckons you inside.

You toe your shoes off in the hallway and continue walking forward into her apartment to drop your phone and keys on the kitchen island, turning around to stare as Jenni slowly walks into the room.

There's an energy thrumming between you. It feels less like the wave of arousal you're used to, heat and warmth, and more like a crackle of electricity, tense and potentially damaging.

While you have settled that this will be your last time under Jenni, and you know you won't betray yourself this time, you still are a bit hesitant on how this starts without her taking the lead.

So you wait.

She stares at you before venturing into the kitchen, handing grabbing the opened bottle of wine and pouring herself a glass. She holds it up wordlessly towards you in offer.

You take a breath and reply, "I'll take a whiskey. Neat."

Jenni pauses in her pouring and raises one eyebrow at you.

You stare back, not apologizing, even though your soul lurches at the desire to add a "please" or "if that's okay." You listen to Isla's voice in your head.

You deserve to have what you want too.

Jenni chuckles mockingly but reaches for a low glass and pours you the room temperature whiskey as you requested anyways, sliding it slowly over the counter to you, eye contact firm and challenging.

You don't raise to her goading, accepting with a small nod and throwing the entire drink back in one gulp, lips pursing at the burn as it slides down your throat.

Jenni looks almost impressed.

You set the glass down with a clink and motion to the hall. "Bedroom?" you ask.

She is oddly quiet tonight, using her eyes and facial expression to convey what she usually would put into words. She doesn't answer your question, but leans against the counter slowly sipping her red wine, not moving.

You sigh and walk towards the floor-to-ceiling windows in her living room, Barcelona alight below.

It is hauntingly beautiful, the contrast between the dark residential pockets, inhabitants fast asleep, and the city squares, still bright with nightlife.

She's the bright—flashy, exciting, chaotic impulsiveness.

You're the dark—quiet, subdued, obedient, doing what's expected.

But that isn't what you're willing to be tonight. So you do a circuit around the white couch in her lounge, eyes only focused on the city outside the window, not at all on the dark-haired woman whose gaze hunts you down from the kitchen, line of sight very visible in the open layout. You don't give her a scrap of attention, walking yourself into her bedroom like you own it.

You hear the soft placement of her wine glass on the counter and smirk to yourself. She's hooked. And a minute later when she huffs her way into her bedroom, you're proven correct.

"So you're going to be a silent brat tonight?" she murmurs, only a hint of irritation in her tone.

At that you turn to face her, hands near your side even though you feel the heat of retaliation crawling up your spine. You're not trying to escalate this into a fight. That will solve exactly none of your problems.

You already have a solution engineered. You're just here to gain closure. So you don't carry the ghost of her forward in your life afterwards, always haunted by her presence.

"Not a brat," you mutter with an eye roll. "Or silent," you amend.

She huffs out a laugh at that. Jenni can tell something is off, anyone could probably tell to be fair.

A small part of her brain knows. But she does what she does best, ignore the issue in favor of fucking.

The taller woman's feet lead her to stop in front of you and you look up at her through your eyelashes, a tattooed hand reaches out to cup your cheek gently.

And you feel like crying.

But you blink back the urge. Because she doesn't deserve anymore of your tears. She's taken enough. Even if she doesn't know it.

"Let's not let this go so long next time, eh?"

Her voice is soft, not dictating, almost pleading.

You stare at her, those green eyes of hers pulling you in so deep you're not even aware that you've run your hands up her chest until they're pulling her down to you by her neck, connecting your lips.

Jenni moans into it, and it's like your focus snaps to attention, everything sharper and brighter. Arousal surges through your body.

You've missed this. So much. Much more than you'd admit to anyone, maybe even yourself.

Despite all the messiness of your emotions surrounding Jenni and this, she sets you on a fire like nobody ever has before. And you've been with plenty of woman that have given you great sex. But with her, it's like she touches an area in you that you had no clue even existed.

Jenni lights you up from the inside. And a part of you is worried you will spend the rest of your life chasing this feeling with other bodies that can't possibly compete.

But that's a problem for the future.

For now, you push up into her space, deepening the kiss.

You feel one of her hands wrap around the back of your head, fingers settling around the column of your neck and squeezing lightly.

Your head arches back as your lips disconnect at the force of the moan it pulls from your throat. A steady pulse starts in your core that matches the thumping pulse at your neck, where her fingers sit squeezing. You feel a gush of wetness as your body hums with arousal.

Maybe you'll let her take the lead. Just for a few minutes. Dominant Jenni arouses you like no else.

She walks you back towards her bed, mouth latched back on yours as both her lips and the rest of her invade your space. Her hands are everywhere, squeezing your ass, one roaming up to your tit, fingers pinching your nipple harshly through your clothes.

You groan out at the pain. She seems to like that. You feel a rumble from her chest where one of your hands still sits right on her sternum.

She shoves you onto the bed, you falling back on your arms, eyes lidded with lust and lips swollen and parted. Waiting for her.

"Clothes off," she rasps, already headed for her closet.

You know what that means.

The strap.

You scramble to untie your pants. They pool at your feet the second the knot is undone. Shoving your underwear down your legs is easy enough. Your button up is quickly abandoned and the crop top gets whipped over your head before also getting dropped to the floor in the heap. No bra to remove tonight, so that's a win.

You turn around and find a naked Jenni, back still turned to you as she tightens the harness onto her hips.

You feel the urge to lick the tattoo inking up her spine. It might be one of the hottest ones you've seen. Or maybe it's just her.

The way you only get a peek of the tattoo when she's in a backless dress, the symbols provocatively disappearing into the fabric clinging to her lower back. Or the way the ink calls to you on the occasions you've seen her in a bikini, small glimpses interrupted by her bathing suit strings, black tattoo contrasted by the bright colors she favors.

But all your thoughts of how incredibly hot you find her and her tattoos and that body are interrupted when she turns and you realize something is very, very wrong.

"What happened to the purple strap? My strap?" you ask confused. She has a strap for each girl for a reason—where is yours? Why does she have a clear dildo strapped where yours belongs?

Her eyes are tight as she replies, "you stopped answering."

"Okay…and?" you throw back. You're going to make her say it, no stepping around this.

Her eyes slip to the side, no longer strong enough to hold your gaze, even as her attitude spikes up, her defense mechanism to avoid her feelings, arms crossed over her chest. "It got put back into rotation," she answers flippantly, "with someone who answers my texts."

You don't visibly react, but internally you flinch back as if slapped. She replaced you. Just.like.that.

Well, fuck this.

Jenni's eyes are back on you, apprehensive with a tinge of guilt. You can read it across her face. She's wondering if you're going to storm out, stop this night before it has truly begun.

That isn't your plan. Though her admission, the unkindness of that truth, has you changing paths slightly.

What originally started as a desire to have her one last time, face-to-face, and hopefully the softer version of her you saw briefly last time, has shifted. You still want Jenni. One last time.

But fuck her. You're going to take what you want for this ending. No consideration needs to be given to her since she clearly doesn't give one fuck about you.

You are taking the power this time. A fitting end to this toxic cycle you've been caught in with Jenni. To break from her completely you need to prove to yourself that you have a strong enough backbone to stand up for what you want.

You're in charge tonight. And she can take it or fucking leave it.

You roll your eyes as you stalk towards her, circling around to place her between you and the bed.

"Stupid," you chide. "I don't answer you for a couple weeks and you turn into a toddler having a tantrum?"

She pouts. "No."

"Yes," you tease with an edge, walking into her space and pushing her not-so-gently back towards the bed, bleeding out just a little of your hurt with that shove.

The back of her legs hit the bed. And with her height, your more forceful shove to her shoulders has her sprawling back on the bed, feet off the floor.

Jenni's eyes go wide. She was not expecting that from you. Probably thought she'd get your mouth, you knelt on your knees in front of her like usual.

But you're done lowering yourself at her feet. You've done it too many times, thinking if you catered to what she wanted maybe you'd get her, the real her. Not the cocky, all-for-show version of her.

You've seen small glimpses through the months. Rare moments when her shields drop for a second and she's gentle and kind and so achingly human in her vulnerability.

But it's never developed further. As just as quick as she showed you those glimpses, she'd revert back with a cocky smirk and a slap to your ass, as if to remind you and her of your place under her.

We'll, tonight she's in for a shock. Because you're on top. Or this thing ends right here. You mean it.

You slide up her body, feet leaving the floor as you settle on top of her thighs, anchoring her down.

She goes to open her mouth but you drop your mouth to the strap, hand settling against the base and pushing down. You wet the strap as your mouth drags down and then back up.

A strangled moan catches in her throat and you smirk.

You break your suction on the head, pulling back and finding her dark and hungry eyes locked on you.

She doesn't know it, but tonight is for you, not her.

You forego working your mouth back down the strap, shuffling forward on your knees before turning around to face her feet, placing first one knee and then the other on either side of her waist, hand reaching back to grab the strap that isn't yours. But, you'll make it yours alright, ruin this for her to use on any other girl. She'll have to retire it after tonight.

You line yourself up and slowly sink down, the stretch pulling a groan from your mouth, chin dipping down to your chest at the feeling of fullness. Your back muscles strain as they tighten in response.

You pause a second as you bottom out, clit nudging up against the base deliciously.

Once you can breathe through the stretch, you raise your head, turning to look over your shoulder at her.

Her lips are parted, pupils blown. Whatever objections were slated to come out of her lips have dried up at seeing you on top of her.

You reach one hand forward, bracing yourself on her muscular thigh as you start to move, sliding up and down the strap.

Jenni groans, hands snapping to your hips. "Fuck," she whispers, snapping her hips up to meet your movement.

You moan as she slides herself deeper at the same time you lower down.

You find your rhythm, hips working you both up in sync.

Jenni pulls you down, hands firmly keeping you seated as she swirls her hips around in a circle, gliding your clit along the base of the strap.

You whimper, so incredibly sensitive already. So close.

You feel Jenni sit up, not breaking the connection between you two.

Her arms circle your front, one hand reaching to anchor around your hips, hand pressing firmly into your lower belly. The pressure, that delicious press into you has the strap dragging along your front wall with every rock up of Jenni's hip. A shock races up your spine at pleasure that draws. Fuck, how is Jenni still finding new ways to play your body like an instrument made custom for her?

Jenni's other hand grabs the column of your neck, squeezing slightly as your head pillows back against her shoulder. "Fuck, Jenni," you whimper as the heat that flares at her fingers winding around your neck soothes out into a warmth spreading down your nerve endings.

"Sí," she murmurs into your ear, breath tickling your senses and sending a shiver chasing down your spine. "Is me. I make you feel this good," she cockily whispers, hips pressing into you for emphasis as the hand anchored to your lower stomach pulls you back and drags you forward, working you on her strap. "Nobody else."

"More," you whine, grinding down helplessly, needing her to thrust again.

You feel her teeth against your neck, nipping down your sensitive skin and sending jolts to your core.

Your hips cant down more forcefully at her lack of movement, rocking the base into her clit with your action.

She grunts, long and low. Affected. Aroused.

Her hand abandons your tit in favor of your clit. But her fingers remain still.

You need more. You need her to move. Or you'll do it yourself.

Finally she starts, barely there circles ghosting over your bundle of nerves as she slowly, shallowly, pushes the strap up into you. It's not going to be enough for you to come, but it's enough to start the build-up.

And thankfully your quiet acceptance leads to Jenni adding firmer and firmer pressure until she's at the point of stroking your clit exactly how you need.

Your orgasm builds up quickly as you grind down onto the strap.

Jenni groans in pleasure as your movement presses the base down against her core. The pressure hits the spot just right, and her hands clamp down to keep you there.

Your hips circle in response, creating a new rhythm that has Jenni panting, eyes wide. Your own clit drags over the base when you roll your hips, pleasure spiking.

Your belly tightens with each pass of the strap, Jenni thrusting up deeper against your grinding.

You can tell she's building too, but that won't do. You are in charge here. And your orgasm comes first this time.

You take a hand off her thigh where it was supporting your weight and drop it to your clit, crowding her tattooed fingers out of the way as your hips roll forward and backward, rocking against the strap buried inside you.

She makes a noise of discontent at you removing her hand from your core, but you ignore it, fingers moving fast and fluttery against yourself, ramping up your orgasm, chasing the high.

It hits fast, your hips grinding down hard as you groan loudly, walls pulsing around the strap, thighs clenching together.

You hear a gasp from behind you as the waves hit, but pay no mind to it in favor of riding out your pleasure, taking it from Jenni's body as you press your hands down into her thighs to give you more leverage. You feel them tremble beneath your hands.

Pleasure fades into the blissful warm hum of satisfaction as you sigh and slowly still the circular motion of your hips.

Success.

For once you came first. Your pleasure took priority. Tick that box off on your checklist for tonight.

But, you don't plan on leaving her unsatisfied.

She always makes sure you come, pretty spectacularly. Even if the end circumstances of your nights don't feel so special, the middle? The middle does. The part where she plays your body better than anyone you've ever been with, even your partners from your years long relationships.

So, she'll get off tonight. But you don't want it to be like all the other times—with her fucking your face.

And you want to watch her come undone. Not from your knees, Not with tears in your eyes as she shoves the strap down your throat. Face-to-face, like you matter. Like you're an equal in this.

Before she can register your movement, you've twisted around on the strap, not even bothering to dismount first. A hiss escapes your lips as the silicone drags slightly inside you.

You pump your hips up and down once, twice, to reposition with a soft sigh.

Jenni's eyes are comically large, staring up at you in awe and arousal and some mix of shock and disbelief.

You are boldly forward tonight. Not asking. Not suggesting. Just taking.

The striker is ungodly levels of turned on, even if she bristles slightly at not having the control.

But you look so, so good sitting on her lap, impaled deeply on her strap, nipples taut and begging to be plucked by her hands.

She shuts up the voice in her head demanding she wrestle the power back from you, put you in your place. And instead leans into the dream she's had from the beginning. This being more that just a hook-up, more than a fuck-and-flee. The dream of you being hers not just for one night but for all of them.

You start lifting yourself up the strap, the head seated just inside your opening, before you dead drop back to the base, groaning loudly at the way the momentum forces the strap back deep into you, dragging along your still sensitive, fluttering walls.

Jenni lets out the loudest groan you've ever pulled from her, eyes smoldering as one hand snaps to your thigh, the other plucking at your nipple.

You whimper and repeat the action, lifting up and bouncing back down, forcing the base further down into Jenni's clit.

She groans again, sweat quickly beading at her temple. Her hands abandon their positions in favor of grasping your hips tightly as she plants her feet on the bed and thrusts up into you, pitching your body forward with the force.

You gasp and bury your face in her neck, hot breath panting against the soft skin there as she fucks you into a dizzy.

"Oh shit, Jenni," you moan, lips trailing down her neck, teeth making an appearance to scrape her skin lightly before you find your spot and suck lightly.

She whimpers at that. Actually whimpers.

"More," she states. "More, cari."

That throws you. Her begging you.

It's instinctive, your reaction. Thinking about it later you can't even point to what makes you do it.

But you grab her hands anchored on your hips and push them up behind her head, held there by yours.

With that last vestige of control stripped from her she stares up at you, a little wrecked, bottom lip pulled in between her teeth as she fights to control her moan.

Jenni's mind is at war with itself. You can see the struggle in her eyes. Her usual side wants to dominate you, probably flip you both so you're beneath her, maybe even turned around so she can take you from behind, the ultimate possessive position.

But a small part of her is getting off on this. This assertive side of you, taking her instead of the other way around. Using her body the way she usually uses yours.

Your own pleasure is definitely amplified by the change in roles. You aren't typically the one in charge in bed, even in your past relationships where the dynamics weren't so fucking toxic.

You get a surge of pleasure from wrestling the control from her specifically. Because you're so used to being the one with a hand around your throat and not the inverse.

Speaking of….you untangle one hand from where it holds hers up by her head, running it down to delicately trace the skin on her chest, fingers roaming over her clavicle. And slowly raise it up towards the bared skin of her throat.

That apparently is going a tick too far, her hand snapping down to capture yours firmly, but gently.

Her eyes squint a touch before she shakes her head minutely.

You respect her boundary. She's given up so much control already that it has satisfied your desires for the night.

Only one thing is left on your list.

To ride her body into ecstasy and watch her fall over the edge.

Your hips start grinding down, lips capturing hers.

Jenni greedily claims you, mouth possessive and dominant.

If that's what she wants, you'll give her that small slice. Because as she licks into you, kissing your mouth open so her tongue can go to work, your hips really are the ones in control of this climb anyways.

You circle decisively, pressure firm and unrelenting, rocking into her.

The sounds she's making even as she keeps her mouth connected to yours has your second orgasm of the night building fast.

She breaks your connection, gasping for air, head thrown back into her pillow as one hand grasps the sheet tightly in her fist while the other claws at your ass, pulling you forward and pushing you back, helping with the breakneck pace you're setting.

"There, there, don't stop," she pants desperately, voice edging up into a whine near the end.

She's so ridiculously close.

You can feel the way her body positively thrums with tension, coiled so tight it's only a matter of seconds before she breaks.

And she does, eyes closed, lips parted, hips straining up and pushing the strap so impossibly deep into you. She moans, deep and primal, as she breaks, legs shaking.

The vision of her being bowled over by pleasure and the action of her forcing herself deeper inside cracks you too. And you shudder as your second orgasm sweeps over you, channel clenching, clit pulsing.

Both your hands slap down onto her chest as you slowly rock your way through the high, voice hoarse by the end.

Her grip on the sheet slackens as her labored breathing slowly levels out. Jenni is staring up at you with wide eyes, a smirk taking over swollen lips.

"Well shit, cari," she murmurs, hands running over your arms, your chest, your abs appreciatively as you twitch back down to earth.

You start to lift yourself up off her with a hiss, thighs trembling from the vigorous exercise you just put them through.

Jenni helps instantly, arms easily lifting you off her gently, the wet strap flopping back against her abs as you fall to the side of her, flipping to your back.

You see her wiggle out of the harness, plopping the whole apparatus on her nightstand before she turns her head back to you.

Tattooed fingers drag your body into her side, slotting you against her.

And you want to cry.

Because all you have wanted for months is this. Her wanting you in the soft moments and not just the pounding ones.

The hurt of having it now, when you've finally made a decision to walk away (and not all those other times before), has your body moving, needing distance desperately. This hurts too much to linger now.

For once it's not her hurrying you out of her space.

You catch your breath, slipping out of bed and grabbing your clothes.

Her glassy eyes find yours, still recovering from that orgasm, face scrunched up in confusion. "Cari?" she questions, voice small. "Stay?"

Your back is turned to her. Your whole body stops as your eyes close, tears starting to gather at the corners. How many months have you wished for her to ask you that? How many nights did you drift off to sleep, mind rewriting your night together to end with her words letting you stay instead?

And here she's offering that. Finally.

But it's too late.

This has caused you too much pain. And you've made up your mind that it is entirely too toxic to be your future.

You turn your head to look at her over your shoulder, a tight, pained smile on your face as you struggle to not break.

"We both know that isn't what this is," you choke out.

You see her swallow and nod, head pressing back into her pillow, gaze dropping yours to stare up at the ceiling as she accepts your rejection.

But she watches you finish dressing, you pausing at her door to give one last unreadable look, eyes sweeping over her body with the air of nostalgia. Jenni berates herself internally as you turn and leave. Her mouth stays closed and her body unmoving.

This isn't what you want. And it has definitely never been what you deserve. She knows it. And now so do you.

Jenni listens as you gather your keys and phone from the kitchen counter, as you slip on your shoes, as you exit her apartment, door closing firmly behind you with a thunk.

It feels final.

It sounds like an end.

And she knows in that moment that this was it. The last night you were hers, even if it was just in name for a moment and not in practice.

Good girls are never meant to stay. Not with someone like her—someone who flits from woman to woman, tasting but not devouring.

Jenni can't help her ways, the need for validation from other bodies, the self-confidence she gets from being desired (and fucked) by many. It fills up the empty space inside that her last relationship, the last one she ever allowed herself to have, obliterated her heart.

She never likes to ruminate on that too long. So she doesn't. Maybe one day she will, and that will change things for the better, get her back on track to actually living, actually loving out loud again instead of protecting her heart with a fortress designed to never again allow the rejections of the past to occur.

But not today. Today she's a creature of habit, watching you walk out of her life because she can't find the words to confess to you how deeply she's cared all these months, even if her rules for herself have made you feel otherwise.

If she had the strength and thought it would change anything, she would race after you. She would tell you that you are the only girl she has rules for. Because she is not attached to any of the rest. But you? You wormed your way under her defenses and into her chest. And she knew she needed some sort of protection to save her heart from what losing you would do to her.

Jenni does none of that, though. Head reeling in her bed, skin cooling with the last remnants of you, she stays put. She stays silent.

Good girls hang around for a while until they realize their worth, what they deserve, and then they move on to find better. Her heart has learned over the years that good girls are not meant for her. She can touch for a night, but never keep for forever.

And you're the best girl she's come across. Jenni knew when she met you that you were not going to be hers.

She wanted you anyways.

She should have walked away before this thing between you ever started. It was obvious to her that you would leave her broken. But she couldn't tear her eyes off you, couldn't let you slip through her fingers when they ached to touch you just once.

After that first time, Jenni had hoped that you wouldn't wreck her too badly when this ran its course.

In her desperation to both have you but protect herself from the inevitable end, she couldn't see that ultimately she was the one who wrecked this.

You would have given her forever.

If only she asked.

[maeshoneyles]

father tongues / part 1

you’ve been through ringer this past year. teammates that hate you, a car accident that killed your father, and a city that feels as empty as your heart. you’re about to give up everything, and then alexia putellas shows up at your door.

pairing: alexia putellas x teen!reader, barca femeni x teen!reader

wc: 2.7k

tags: **mention of parent death, depression and suicidal thoughts**, madridista reader (js trust me okay), polyglot reader, mental illness

a/n: accidentally started another series? whoops? oh well this ideas been floating around in my head for a while so i finally put it down on paper. or a google doc. enjoy! let me know if you’re interested in her story!

You liked languages. 

It was the product of having lived in three different countries by the time you were 10. 

Spanish was your best, you having lived there for the past 6 years. You spoke Italian to your dad, but you didn’t seek out media in that one like you did the others you knew. Too many bad memories. Your English was good, considering you had only lived in England for 3 years. It was mainly social media and pop culture that kept it in your head. In school, you had to pick a language to take classes in, so you picked German. Then you learned French on your own just because. 

Your bookshelves were lined with titles in all different languages. Your playlists couldn’t be enjoyed by anyone but you, because most people would only understand a quarter of the songs that played. You figured out how VPNs worked so you could stream French Netflix or German Disney shows. 

You just loved the idea of languages, how people from different areas of the world communicated so differently, and yet there were so many similarities throughout. You loved how your world expanded with every language you learned, how it opened up thousands more connections you could make. 

You also loved how easy it made it to eavesdrop on your international opponents during a match, but that just par for the course. 

You had played football since you were a 7 year old girl running around in Sicily with the boys in the dry grass down the street from your Nonna’s house. It was one of the only fond memories you could think of from the time you and your dad spent in Italy. 

When you were 10 your dad picked you both up and shipped off to Madrid. A work offer, a fresh start for the both of you, a chance to distance yourselves from the hell that Italy had become. You continued to play football, this time on a real team. Still with all the boys. But you were faster and smarter than them, and soon enough you were 12 and your dad was sitting you down and telling you that a nice grown up had watched your last match, and now you were going to play for a new team, this time with other girls your age, called Real Madrid. 

You liked playing for Madrid, mostly because you liked football and you liked to make your dad proud. But it was never Madrid itself that you loved. 

You always felt like an outsider, like the rest of the girls on your team were in one clique, and you were just there. They wore white with their whole chest, proudly calling themselves Madridistas for life, cursing at and spitting on anything Blaugrana. You never felt like that, never had that allegiance to your childhood club that they did. It made you feel like an outcast, like you were alone. You had never been overly shy, but it was safer like that there. They didn’t like you, didn’t want to talk to you. So you didn’t even try. 

But your lack of friends didn’t stop you from training and working harder than everyone else, if not for the crest on the front of your kit but for the name on your back. You remember your dad’s face when you told him you were invited to a first team training session for the first time, when you were available for a match for the first time, and finally, when you made your senior debut. He was in the stands, screaming and proudly wearing your jersey. It was the only thing that made you smile that entire day. 

You had done well in the few minutes you were on the pitch, but you hadn’t done anything extraordinary. No world-class goals, no assists from the other end of the pitch, no game-saving tackles.

And, apparently, that was enough for your teammates on the B team to feel like they had a right to comment on your performance. That you weren’t good enough, that the staff had made a mistake, that any one of them were much more suited for the first team than you were. When you returned to the B team, they treated you with disgust, making up a reality in their heads that you were snotty and cocky, that you felt like you were too good for them, to justify their shit-talking. It was miserable. 

And the first team was no better. 

You were quiet and kept to yourself, not speaking with any of the older girls unless spoken to. You were terrified, already being disliked on your own team, but they took it as you being conceited and arrogant, somehow. You retreated into yourself more than you ever had. 

You hesitated when they approached you with a one-year contract at the end of the year. A whole year of that torture on the senior team? You didn’t know if you could handle it. But the thought of going back to the B team with all of them knowing you turned down a professional contract? That sounded even worse. And your dad seemed so proud when you told him about the offer. So you signed it. Painted a smile on your face as you signed the paper and shook the club owner’s hand. 

The next year was hell enough already. You went to u-17 camp for England and for Spain. You still hadn’t made a decision on that, which only gave the girls one more thing to taunt you about. 

You were still concieted, arrogant, cocky, and a horrible person. You were greedy and selfish. Your form was sloppy at best, and you still thought you were better than everyone else. 

The arrogance they talked about was you keeping your head down at training, speaking to no one and taking up as little space as you could. All those languages running around in your head and yet, you never uttered a single word more than necessary. 

Your selfishness was you sometimes taking the ball to goal yourself instead of passing it off unnecessarily. They believed it should always be them, that you didn’t deserve the ball. That you were more likely to screw it up than they were.a

Your sloppy form was you leading the team in goals and assists, because yeah, even with your selfishness you still seemed to set your teammates up pretty well. 

You were counting down the days until your contract was up, and you could leave. Or quit football. You honestly didn’t know. 

But everything you thought you knew in the world got put on a screeching halt sometime mid-March. You got the call at training, between sessions in the gym and on the pitch. 

“Hola?”

“Hola, is this Y/N L/N?”

“S-si.”

“Hola, soy del Hospital Universitario La Paz. Tienes que venir aquí de inmediato, soy tu padre.”

You didn’t hear anything else, you just ran. You drove 20 miles over the speed limit and somehow didn’t get pulled over. You arrived at the hospital, still in your training clothes. You said every Italian prayer you could remember from your nonna and then googled more when you ran out. 

Your dad was dead before the next morning. Car accident. The doctors tried their best, but he was never going to make it. 

Now you really had no idea what to do. The one thing keeping you tethered to reality was gone. The single good thing about life in Madrid was gone. 

You took time off. You wanted more, but the club wanted you back, and who were you to argue?

So you trained. You were even quieter than before. You played like you were carrying the weight of your father on your back, like every movement costed you energy you didn’t have. Your form had dropped considerably and yet you still topped the stats of the league, right up there with the Barcelona players you were supposed to hate but never did. 

Some of your teammates sent you a text when he died. That was about all the pity you got.

By the end of the season, you felt like you were dragging your corpse along with you wherever you went. You felt like it was a miracle you made to the end of the season. You didn’t want to play football anymore. You didn’t want to do anything. You had managed to circumvent the whole foster care thing and get emancipated because you made enough money to justify it. The solitude of your apartment wasn’t helping at all. 

Your agent almost got you into another contract with Real Madrid without contacting you, thinking that would be what you wanted, that you didn’t want to be bothered or have to make a big move with everything else going on. You had a panic attack until you threw up and then fell asleep right there on the bathroom floor at mere thought. 

Other clubs started to reach out. English clubs, German clubs, French clubs, other Spanish clubs.

But you told your agent you were done. Done with football. Maybe with life. You weren’t sure, honestly. But your agent was a hard head and kept your doors open.

You were waist deep in your own depression when Barcelona came knocking with a late offer. You wrote it off almost immediately. You were hated in Madrid, where you had been raised for years. You couldn’t even imagine what it would be like for you, a Madridista to the rest of the world, in Barcelona. You were ready to tell them to kick rocks when you got an unexpected knock at your door. 

That was weird. You didn’t have family or friends in Madrid who cared enough to show up at your apartment. Your agent preferred to call you. You didn’t want to pull yourself out of bed, the movement requiring energy you didn’t have. But they were persistent, so you pulled yourself out of bed and opened the door anyway, and saw none other than Alexia Putellas standing in your hallway. 

You swore your eyes bugged out of your head for a second. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” It was the most words you had spoken in days. It made your throat hurt. It sounded foreign, wrong. 

“Nice to meet you too, niña. Can I come in?”

“I guess..? Wait- why are you here?”

Alexia pushed her way into your tiny apartment. All the lights were off and the blackout curtains were pulled tight. She slapped the light switches and made you wince by how bright they were. 

“It’s very dark in here.”

“Yeah, for a reason. I like it like that. Why are you here, by the way?”

“Seriously, it can not be healthy to live in this much darkness-” she threw open the curtains that were bathing the room in darkness, exposing your gorgeous view of the Madrid skyline and the setting sun. Huh, it was almost night again. Great. You had no idea what time it was anymore.

“For the last time, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“About your contract. And you. And your papa. And everything. Do you have tea?”

You must be having a fever dream. Yes, that was it. You contracted some illness in your depression and now you were having insane, fever-induced dreams of Alexia Putellas breaking down your door and saying she wanted to talk to you about your dad. 

You just shook your head at the ridiculousness of the situation and went to make tea, pulling out mugs and tea bags and putting on a kettle. It was the most action you’ve done in a while. For some reason it didn’t feel heavy and impossible to move once Alexia waltzed her way in.

She looked at your bookshelves, “You speak all these languages?”

“No, I just have them all for show,” you rolled your eyes.

She sat in silence as you made cups for both of you. She said she took it black. You put a spoon of sugar in yours. 

The first half of the cups were drank in silence as well. You were thankful for it, even if it was weird. She cleared her throat after a sip and you knew the silent reprieve was over. 

“You were going to say no to our offer.”

“How did you know that?”

“I have my ways. You didn’t even attempt negotiations. You think we hate you because you come from Madrid?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because I care about my team, and I want us to do well. And that means caring about who the club is potentially asking to join us. Which includes you now. ”

“So you just barge your way into the apartments of all the people Barca offers contracts to?”

“No, only the ones who aren’t even legal adults yet and are abandoning their childhood club months after something horrible happened. We wouldn’t hold it against you, by the way. The Madrid thing.” 

You had nothing to say to answer that. You didn’t believe a thing she said. 

“I lost my dad too. I was around your age.” 

“I know.”

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. I wanted to reach out as soon as I heard about it. And then I saw you back on the pitch 2 weeks later.”

“What about it?”

“I didn’t play football for 6 months when my papa passed.”

“Oh. Well, people grieve differently.”

Alexia sighed, “You’re leaving Madrid.”

“I am.”

“4 months after your dad died.”

“That’s right.”

“Can you see why I’m concerned?”

“No, I can’t.”

She sighed again, “It’s just been you and your dad for a while, si?”

“Yeah.”

“And you two were close?”

“Very.”

“So, your dad passes away, one of the most difficult things anyone can go through, especially at your age, and you jump back into work two weeks later looking like you had risen from the dead just to throw your boots on and fall onto the pitch. And then, months later, you take the first opportunity to leave the only place you’ve ever played football, while you are still 16, by the way.” 

You shrugged, “Why do you care? I played for Madrid. You should hate me for even existing. And I’m done with football anyway, you’re wasting your time.”

“I don’t hate children. What happened at Madrid that made you want to run like this?”

She had completely skipped over you saying you were done with football. You cringed when she called you a child. And you were silent at her question.

“So there was something.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t say there wasn’t, either. If someone asked me that question about Barcelona I would reassure them in a heartbeat that everything was good, but you did not.”

“It was nothing.”

“But it was something. Something that affected you this much.”

You were silent for a long time. You sipped your tea. It was cold. You sipped it again.

“I didn’t fit in, I guess.”

“That can mean a lot of things.”

“People didn’t like me, okay? Didn’t include me. Talked crap behind my back. Staff sucked too. Happy now?”

“I am, yes. Thank you for telling me. I know there is more to the story, but that’s a good starting point.” 

“Starting point?”

“Si. I’ll be expecting you in Barcelona this summer”

“What?”

“Trust me on this one, okay?”

“I don’t even know you! And I told you I’m done with football!”

“We don’t do cliques, or drama, or talking crap in Barcelona. We don’t make you feel bad for being quiet. We don’t make people want to run away, and we won’t alienate you. We don’t force players back 2 weeks after one of their parents dies.”

“How did you-”

“Like I told you, I have my ways. I’ve been told I’m very observant. Come and see me when you come to visit the facilities. We can have dinner. Stop it with all the quitting talk. And keep the blinds open, it’ll help with the depression.”

And just like that she waltzed out of your place, like she had never been there. You stood there in shock for a few minutes. 

You didn’t know why you told Alexia anything. Why you let her into your apartment. Why you even heard her out. 

Then you texted your agent, asking how quickly you could start negotiations with Barcelona. He asked if you had hit your head. You said you had a visitor and changed your mind. 

You were on a flight to Barcelona within a week. 

Damn you, Alexia Putellas. What the hell are you doing to me?

[maeshoneyles]

part 2 of eye contact??

in the wips but it might be a min 🫣🫣

next up i have two more barca x teen!r and then im working on pt 2 of my alessia fic, a fluffy alexia fic, and this childhood friends to lovers with vicky lopez thing

[maeshoneyles]

eye contact was really good !! any chance of a second part of them actually getting together and navigating that?

i was definitely planning on it! it would be fun to explore leah breaking those old habits and learning to communicate and everything.

might be a little before it’s out bc i have so many other things half done but it’s added to the wips!

[maeshoneyles]

kinda in love with american nights, your writing is amazing

people like you are the reason i keep writing 🫶🏻🫶🏻 so glad you are enjoying! the two of them will be back soon i promise

[maeshoneyles]

eye contact

the only thing that separates leah williamson from every other frat guy is what’s between her legs. she loves beer, being a douche, and fucking a new girl every weekend. until she meets you.

pairing: leah williamson x reader

wc: 7.1k

tags: 18+!!!! smut, fingering (r receiving), strap on (r receiving), college au, leah is an asshole at the beginning, r is inexperienced, angst, fluff eventually, leah has a whole character arc, fwb, leahs damn smirk

a/n: inspired entirely by that pic of leah and this interaction. i hate the ending but 7k is already way too much for me so it is what it is. cheers, enjoy.

Leah Williamson was as close as you could get to being a frat guy without, well, being a guy. 

An international student from England who was the star of the women’s soccer team, off the pitch she mostly associated with the brothers of Pi Kappa Alpha, more commonly referred to as just Pike. 

The boys had taken her in as one of their own, and while rumors had circulated that the reason they kept her around was to fuck her, most people knew that Leah didn’t even swing that way.

No, those boys liked Leah because she was exactly like them. Her favorite things were beer, fucking girls, and being an absolute douchebag. She fit in perfectly.

Even if she didn’t technically live in the Pike house, she may as well have. She would if the university allowed it. Hell, they kept one of the bedrooms empty for her to crash in and take girls back to on the weekends. 

And she didn’t just act the part, she looked it too. Her short blonde hair was usually tied up into a bun or hidden under a backwards hat. Her wardrobe consisted of jeans or sweatpants (bought from the men’s section), boxers, t-shirts, and button ups that she often wore undone with a wife beater and Nike sports bra underneath. The girls loved it. 

She had a reputation and she was proud of it. Most of the gay girls at the school, and even some of the straight girls, had a story about Leah. She was a fuckboy, plain and simple. Never caught feelings, never fucked a girl from the front, and only sometimes would she pursue a girl for a second night. 

So why did she keep getting girls, even when she treated them like disposable toys? 

Well, she was good. Like, disturbing good. Rock your world and leave you limping for a week, good. People would deal with the feeling of being used to experience the kind of pleasure she was able to pull from girls.

You were nothing like Leah. You were an education major who loved a night out, but was never crazy like her. You never got wasted, preferring to teeter between tipsy and buzzed. You had figured out you were a lesbian when you were 13 and still only had 2 bodies, and honestly you weren’t sure if one of them counted. You’d never been fucked with a strap, never had a one night stand, none of it. 

And yet you were obsessed with Leah. Something about her cockiness, her assholeness, the way she looked like she was sculpted by Aphrodite herself, just spoke to you. 

You thirsted over her Instagram posts. You gushed to your friends whenever you saw her on one of your nights out. Your friends would send you a picture of her whenever they stumbled upon her on campus, telling you they had spotted your “girlfriend”. 

But even as much as your friends teased you about your crush, they always were insistent on telling you to actually stay away from her, and to never have sex with her. You were the type to get attached, especially to someone who would fuck you in ways you never had been, to take your virginity in that way. They knew you would be crushed by the way she treated you after the fact, even if you were prepared for it. You agreed with them, so you kept your distance. Even if it physically pained you. 

…..

It was a normal Saturday night. 

Pike was preparing to throw a party, and you and your friends were busy getting ready in your dorm. 

Leah’s team had just had a tough loss despite her best efforts, and she was itching to take out her frustrations on something pretty. 

She threw on her normal party uniform: jeans, sneakers, wifebeater, and open button-down. Her hair was down and she threw a backwards hat over it. No makeup, she didn’t need that crap. 

You had on your usual as well: jeans, converse, and whatever tiny black top you fancied that weekend. Your hair was blown out and you did what you considered a full face of makeup.

After a few hours of pregaming, you made your way over to Frat Row and were easily let into the house. 

Immediately your eyes started searching for Leah. You wanted to get your staring over with and then try to have some fun with your friends without the distraction. 

What you definitely didn’t expect was to see Leah staring back at you, looking like a starving woman. You felt yourself blush and turned back to your friends, who were finding a cooler with cans in the kitchen. 

“Guys. Leah was looking at me,” you whispered to them. 

“What?”

“She was?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure! I blushed so bad, it was embarrassing.”

“Just…remember what we always tell you, Y/N. That would be bad for you.”

“I know, I know. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. I’m just admiring the view. And I guess she was doing the same,” you playfully winked and made all your friends immediately groan and fake vomit. You found a can of beer that you didn’t hate and made your way to the dance floor alongside your friends. 

After a while of dancing you excused yourself to get more drinks for everyone and maybe some water for yourself. You had pregamed a bit harder than usual and those Tito’s shots seemed to all hit at once. 

You half-stumbled into the empty kitchen and were met with none other than Leah Williamson herself. 

“You feelin’ alright, darlin’?” she said with her signature smirk, leaning back on the counter and taking a swig from her red solo cup. 

“Uh…yeah. Just getting drinks and stuff,” you aimlessly searched through the cooler for what you were looking for, 2 beers and a seltzer, and trying to ignore Leah’s eyes burning holes in your skull. 

You got what you needed for your friends and realized you didn’t know where to get water. You thought about just leaving, but the spinning was starting to get concerning and you

knew you needed it, so you did the one thing you really didn’t want to do: talk to Leah. 

“D-do you know where I can find a bottle of water?”

You internally cursed yourself for stuttering. She smirked, again. You wanted to slap it off. Or kiss it off. Yeah, that was the one. 

“Water? We don’t drink water here, darling. Have a beer.”

You scoffed, “I’m serious, I just need water.”

“It’s a bit early for that. You a lightweight or just pregamed too hard?”

“I’ll just find someone else to ask,” you mumbled and started to stumble out of the kitchen, desperate to get away from Leah and her annoyingly hot self before you exploded from need. You’re pretty sure you jumped 10 feet in the air when you felt her hand on your arm, stopping you. 

“I’m just messin’ with ya love, I’ll get you one from our stash. Stay right there.”

You did as she said, staring dumbfounded as she disappeared into a closet and returned with a bottle of water. 

“This one’s cold, the one we keep out are always warm by this point.”

“Um, thank you. I appreciate it,” you said, suddenly lucid. 

“Anything for a pretty girl like you, love. Let me know if you or your friends need anything, okay?”

You just nodded, smiled, and walked away. 

“Guys! You’ll never believe what just happened!”

“What?”

“Leah called me pretty and got me a water from Pike’s fridge!”

“Oh no.”

“Don’t you dare fall for it.”

“This is bad, like really bad.”

“Oh come on! You guys have no faith. I’m not going to do anything stupid, I promise. I won’t fuck her.”

“Say that again when you’re doing your walk of shame.”

“You guys all suck.”

…..

Leah didn’t take her eyes off of you for the rest of night. 

She treated women like a game. She picked you as her target of the night, and she would win when she got you in bed with her. 

And she never lost her game. 

You were always with your friends, who kept shooting her subtle glares, so she waited. She knew there would come a perfect moment for her to strike, there always was. She just had to be patient. 

She waited and watched from afar. You were cute. Maybe not hot, per say, but definitely gorgeous. You seemed innocent, sweet. Leah liked that every now and then. Something about the feeling of deflowering a pure little thing was intoxicating now and then. 

Several girls came up and flirted with her, and she entertained them for her own fun, but always ended it with some lame excuse for her to walk away. She laughed to herself at the dejected looks on their faces when she left. It was fun having the power. 

She stalked you like you were prey, far enough away that you didn’t pick up on it, but close enough to always keep an eye on you. 

Her moment came close to the end of the night. 

You had gotten separated from your friends when the dance floor got a bit rowdy. One of them had disappeared with one of Leah’s friends, and the rest had headed to the kitchen, but you were still looking for them on the dance floor. Leah slipped in seamlessly, her hand resting on your waist from the back. 

“You still alright, love?” she whispered right in your ear. You went rigid under her hand. 

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry babe,” she laughed, “it’s gettin’ a bit rowdy down here for my tastes. Want to come up to my room with me?”

You could’ve sworn your heart fell into your ass. Leah Williamson asking to take you to bed. This felt like a dream. Honestly, you always wrote off your friends’ warnings about Leah because you never thought she would actually be interested in you like that. Never in a million years did you think you would actually be faced with an opportunity to make your fantasies a reality. So, naturally, you were taken by surprise and decided to ignore everything you knew about Leah and yourself before you nodded and said sure. 

…..

Getting up to Leah’s room was a blur. One minute you were downstairs, the next you were upstairs with your top off and her hands undoing your jeans. She hadn’t stopped kissing you since she slammed and locked the door. 

Once your were bare of any restricting clothing, she walked you backwards until the back of your knees hit her bed and she pushed you down onto it with a tad bit more force than necessary. 

In a second she was on top of you. You weren’t sure when her jeans and button-up came off, but she was left in her tank top and boxers. Your hands slid up to her tank top to try and slide it off, to see more of Leah, but she stopped you. 

“Nope. Leave it.”

“But-“

“No.”

You shrunk under the authoritative tone of her voice. 

She paid no mind and leaned down to kiss you again. She took control of the kiss immediately, her tongue darting out and her lips wrapping around your bottom lip to suck it into her mouth. 

You gasped, not from the kissing but from her hand finding your soaked center and running her fingers through your soaked folds. 

“All this for me?” she hummed against your mouth. You nodded, desperately. “Naughty girl,” she tsked, her thumb brushing lightly over your clit and her fingertips teasing at your entrance. 

“S-shit!”

“Sensitive little thing you are.” 

You just moaned as she increased the pressure on your clit fractionally, getting you that much closer without the possibility of finishing just yet. 

She started massaging your bud in tight figure-eights, and took your distraction as an opportunity to stick two of her fingers deep into you. 

You moaned far too loud, slapping your hand over your mouth immediately. Leah just chuckled. 

“You’re so tight babe, feels like I’m fuckin’ a virgin.” 

When you didn’t respond, in fact you became silent and slightly stiff, you felt Leah still and shift so her head was directly above yours. 

“Are you a virgin, darling?”

You felt your face get hot. There was no way this was happening. This was humiliating, and not in the sexy way. Although the way she said it wasn’t demeaning or annoyed. She seemed honestly curious and maybe a little concerned. 

“N-no. Well-” you sighed, “not technically. I guess. I-I’ve had sex before. But never more than u-um, f-fingering-” 

Leah’s smirked painted onto her face yet again. You were adorable when you were flustered. 

“Hey, hey, relax. That’s alright. I don’t mind. You’ve never taken a strap before?”

You shook your head. 

“Perfect, you’re getting started with the best and you’ll never want anyone else’s dick but mine. But I have something else to finish before I get there, yeah?”

You were reminded of the fact that her fingers were still inside of you, and she began just as she was before, pumping and curling them with maddening accuracy. It was like she somehow intrinsically knew your body and could read it like a book. She adjusted and fine-tuned like a professional. You didn’t know it was possible to feel this much pleasure at a time. 

“H-holy shit! L-leah!” you gasped out, overwhelmed with pleasure. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Scream my name when I make you come. No one’s ever made you feel like this.” 

She wasn’t asking you a question. It was a statement. She knew it was a fact. 

You did exactly as you were told. She sucked a bruise onto your pulse point, claiming you, as she made you see stars.

You were panting, soaking the sheets below you with sweat and other fluids. But Leah wasn’t done, not even close. 

She got off of you, strode over to her nightstand and pulled a strap out. You turned your head and your throat almost closed up. It was big. Bigger than you thought would fit inside you. 

But you were going to let her try to shove it in. Of course you were. You were pretty sure Leah could ask to fuck you with a knife and you would say yes at that point. 

“Intimidated?” 

That goddamn smirk. You hated it and you wanted it over you right now.

“A l-little.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll fit. I’ll make sure of it.”

You took a deep breath and tried to prepare yourself. 

“Turn over, on your stomach.”

Right, of course. You did as you were told, now bent over the end of her bed, presented to her like a gift.

“I’ll be gentle, at first.” 

At first. You whimpered as one of her hands came to push down between your shoulders, forcing your back into an arch. 

“That’s it, stay just like that.” 

Her hands found your hips as she lined up the end of her strap with your entrance. She pushed her hips forward, so just the tip was in. She felt you tense and felt the resistance. Shit, you were tight. 

“You need to relax, or it’s going to hurt.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I’m going to make you feel good.”

Normally, Leah wasn’t this nice. Honestly, she didn’t know what was wrong with her. If any other girl talked as much as you did, Leah would’ve been pissed. She wasn’t above throwing a girl out halfway through if she wasn’t cooperating and finding another to finish the job. 

She had fucked virgins before, and she wasn’t exactly gentle. Not like this. Not encouraging, soft, tender. She was harsh, taking what she wanted without a second thought. Sure, she made sure her girls got off, but she was focused on herself first and foremost. Especially when she was strapping a girl. They got a warning that she was going to be rough, and that was all. After that she focused on herself and only after that happened would her focus shift. 

But here she was, reaching her hand around to gently rub at your clit, knowing it would help you relax and open up for her. You let out the first moan and Leah thrusted her hips forward, burying half the silicone dick into you. 

“S-shit! Leah, oh my god.”

“How’s that feel, darling? Easier to open up with a little distraction, yeah?”

“Y-yeah..”

“You feel okay? Can I keep going?”

You gritted your teeth and nodded. The stretch hurt, but in a good way. You wanted more. Of the pleasure, of the fullness, of Leah. 

Leah was at a loss. She must be feeling sick or something. Never once had she asked a girl if it was okay for her to keep going. She shook it off and thrusted her hips forward until she was buried completely inside you. 

You were so tight it was almost hard for her to fuck you. She had to use more strength than she had in a while. And the night after a tough match, it was tough. But she managed it because the base of the strap-on was hitting her clit perfectly, and maybe because she couldn’t get enough of your pretty little sounds. She made sure to tell you, too, a never-ending spew of filthy words spilling from her mouth as she pounded into you. 

“C-close!” you choked out, gripping the sheets below with all your might as Leah gave you the strap with everything she had in her. 

“Me too, darling. Hold on.”

“W-what?”

“I said hold on.”

“H-how do I-”

“I’m almost there, just a second love- f-fuck! Come for me!”

The two of you came together and collapsed into her bed together. You whimpered as she pulled out. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. How do you feel, darling?”

“Like my legs aren’t gonna work for a week.”

“That was the goal. Um…you can hang out here for a bit but…you can’t sleep here.”

“Oh, right. Of course. I’ll, um, leave in a second. Just need to catch my breath.”

Leah ignored the tiny part of her brain that wanted you to stay, then ignored how that part wasn’t really so tiny. 

“The party sounds like it’s still going, so you should be okay to sneak out.”

“Right. Um…thanks?”

Leah chuckled, “you are very welcome, babe.”

You stood on shaky legs and redressed yourself as Leah watched, lounged on her bed. 

“C’mere, let me fix your hair.” 

Leah brushed her fingers—the ones that had just been inside you—through your hair and made it look like you hadn’t just been fucked to the edge of your life. 

“There, pretty girl once again.”

You smiled at the compliment, although you don’t think it reacher your eyes. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, see you.”

You weren’t even all the way out the door when you started to feel the shame and regret crashing over you in waves. You checked your phone and saw messages from your friends saying they had already left, so you ordered an Uber and sat on the curb to wait for it. You were an idiot. You already felt your attachment to Leah forming. She had been so nice to you, you honestly forgot about her reputation. You forgot that you were going to be thrown out at the end of the night. Every cell in your body had wanted to curl up with her in her sheets and fall asleep with your head on her chest. But that wasn’t an option because this was Leah Williamson. 

You knew what you were getting yourself into and you did it anyways. For what? Because she was hot? Because it felt to good to stop it? 

You were surprisingly sober by the time you got back to your dorm. You silently cried yourself to sleep, hoping you wouldn’t wake up your roommate. 

….

Leah was confused. She had been fucking girls like this for years. She had a system. And you came in and turned it all upside down. She had broken her rules for you. Not all of her rules, but a lot of them. 

She decided that she wasn’t going to let it affect her. She would continue as usual. Fuck some other girl next weekend. She wouldn’t ban herself from you though, no. That would just be self-inflicted punishment. If she saw you out again and it felt right, she would fuck you again. She could be rougher with you the second time, anyways. The softness was a one-time thing. 

That’s what she told herself. 

…..

Your friends had their fair share of “I told you so”s after your episode with Leah. You shrugged it off. You shouldn’t be this upset about it, you knew exactly what you were walking into. But it still hurt, still stung to know that she took something from you and it was just another Saturday night for her. 

It wasn’t for a few more weeks until you two met again. Pike was throwing again, on a Friday. Leah hadn’t been at the last few parties, the NCAA tournament taking priority over her weekend activities. But she had won her trophy last week and was ready to make her comeback. 

Leah had to admit, when she thought about celebration sex for her big win, the first person that came to mind was you. That scared her a bit, but she decided that if she saw you that night, she would pursue you again. Just because you were a good fuck. That’s all. 

You hadn’t wanted to go back to Pike after last time, but your friends assured you it would be fine, and a chance to redeem yourself from last time. They had insisted you get all dolled up, hair blown out, eyeliner swiped on, and the red top that made you look like a plastic surgery advertisement. 

You looked good. 

Leah agreed, spotting you as soon as your group walked in. 

She knew she had to be strategic tonight, after last time especially. 

You did your best to ignore Leah and try to have a good time with your friends, but you just couldn’t ignore the way her eyes were burning into the back of your skull at all times. 

A few drinks later and you found yourself making a half-assed excuse to your friends about needing the bathroom and making your way out to the backyard. You had seen Leah slip out there a few minutes prior, making deliberate eye contact with you and giving a nod of her head that was so subtle it almost wasn’t there. But you saw it, and she knew you did. 

She was hitting a vape and leaning back against the brick exterior wall of the house. She was dressed more casually tonight: national championship t-shirt under her flannel, sweatpants, sneakers, and a black backwards hat. 

You felt the December air nip at your exposed skin as you slowly made your way over to her. She held out the blue Cali Pod in a silent offer, you held your hand up and politely shook your head, never a fan of the nicotine. She shoved it back in her pocket and made a show of looking you up and down. 

You stayed quiet, already regretting your decision to follow her out here. 

“You come out here just to stare at me, darling?”

You rolled your eyes at her teasing tone, turning on your heel and mumbling something about leaving. 

She pushed off the wall and grabbed your wrist in a second.

“Hey hey hold on-“

You turned to face her, an unimpressed look on your face. 

“Don’t give me that look, babe. You’re the one who followed me,” she said, her voice smug and arrogant. 

“Yeah, and now I’m regretting it,” you went to leave, but Leah’s grip on your wrist tightened and held you there. 

“Oh come on, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t want this.”

You didn’t like the look on her face, the way she was expecting you to immediately fold and say yes and go back to her room. 

No, who are you kidding. You loved it. You wanted to ride it, dammit. 

You tried to resist, tried to be defiant, but your mumbled “shut up” while staring at the ground just made you seem more pathetic than before. Leah’s hand came up to your jaw and you barely had time to process anything before she was kissing you. 

Your fight for dominance was futile, her tongue taking control and pressing into your mouth like it belonged there. It definitely felt like it did. 

She had you against the cold brick of the house, knee pressed between your legs making you gasp into her mouth. Her hand moved from your jaw to your chest, squeezing your tits through your shirt. 

You’d never done this before, kiss someone in a public place like this. The thrill was addicting. Her knee pressed more insistently into your pussy, sending sparks of need through you. The thought that you definitely shouldn’t be doing this crossed your mind, but at this point you were too deep. You knew you were going to end up in Leah’s bed. And you found that you didn’t exactly mind. 

Leah led you through the house with annoyingly calm energy, like she hadn’t just made you ruin your panties in the backyard. Like this was normal. Like she wasn’t completely rocking your world by just standing there. 

You had to remind yourself that it was normal for her. This was her routine. Just not yours. 

Even as the regret already began to bubble up inside you, you continued up the stairs and into Leah’s room. 

The door slammed closed and you slammed against it, Leah’s hands back on your chest and her mouth on your neck. Your hands found her shoulders as her knee took its place back between your legs. You were throbbing and desperate and you didn’t even try to resist grinding down on her sculpted thigh. It was honestly embarrassing.

“Yeah, and you were trying to leave me earlier? Cute, babe. We both know how much you need this.”

You whimpered. Leah knew how down bad you were, how inexperienced you were with all this. That after just one night she had you on a leash. That it was laughable you even attempted to hide it. Heat rose to your cheeks in shame, and your eyes looked everywhere but Leah. 

Leah was thoroughly amused by your reaction, by the shame you had for needing her so badly. She loved having that power, that control. It was one of the reasons did acted how she did. But it was different with you. The feeling was deeper. A little more raw. A little more personal. More addicting than she was used to. Like the power rush she was feeling had less to do with her and more to do with you. 

Her hands found the back of your thighs and lifted you with ease, carrying you over to her bad and dropping you on your back. 

“Strip.”

You heard the straps of her fake dick being tightened around her hips and you clenched around nothing as you made quick work of the red corset top and black skirt. 

She walked back over and you started to turn yourself over, but she stopped you with a hand on your hip. 

“No, on your back.”

Leah didn’t know why she felt such a deep need to see your face as she fucked you. She had always preferred back shots: no way to get attached, better for getting herself off, and easier to imagine a different girl if she wasn’t really feeling this one.

She realized the last thing she wanted to do was picture a different face than yours.  

She couldn’t remember the last time she fucked a girl from the front. Hell, last time that happened she was the one on her back. How things have changed. 

Leah’s fingers danced between your legs, gathering wetness and smearing it on the plastic dick. She thought about making you suck it off, but she didn’t want to overwhelm you too much, so she got it ready herself.  

Seriously, Leah? What the hell is wrong with you? 

“Jesus, darling, you’re soaked. This all for me?”

You managed a nod and some squeak that sounded almost like a yes. You need more, you needed Leah, now. 

“Please, Leah. Just fuck me. Please.”

“Begging already? I didn’t think you’d crumble this quickly.” 

“Leah,” you whined pathetically, ready to do just about anything to have her inside of you again. 

“I’m getting there, don’t rush me.”

You should’ve known something was up from her smirk, but you were still shocked when she shoved the entire length of the silicone dick into you at once. You shrieked and panted at the pleasurable burn and stretch of it. 

“Jesus Christ!”

“My name’s Leah, but I can see how you can get the two of us mixed up.”

You were too far gone already to even comprehend what she was saying. She started moving, slowly at first, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. 

“Hey, nope, eyes up here. If you take your eyes off of mine I will pull out and leave you here, dripping and whiny, understand?”

Your mouth hung open in shock. You weren’t sure if you were mentally capable of controlling your body like that while Leah fucked you, but the idea of being left on the edge now after everything was too much to even consider, so you nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it, I promise.”

“I know you will. You’d do anything I asked, wouldn’t you?”

All you could do was nod. 

Her thrusts started on the gentle side, but quickly increased in both speed and strength. 

The curve of the strap had the tip grazing your sensitive spot on the inside of your walls perfectly with every thrust. Her talented fingers were massaging shapes into your clit in time with her hips. The eye contact never broke. She was wrecking you, to say the least.

At one point you were so overwhelmed your eyelids fluttered shut for just a second, and all of the contact was immediately gone. 

“W-what? N-no no no no…come back! I’m sorry! I’m sorry-”

“I gave you one rule, didn’t I?”

You nodded sheepishly. 

“And you couldn’t even follow it.”

“I-I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise, just- just please come back…please touch me Leah, I need to come so bad.”

She pretended to think about it. She was always going to fuck you, not willing to deny herself the pleasure of watching you come. And maybe a tiny part of her didn’t want to be that mean to you, especially when you looked so wrecked and adorable already. But she could be a tiny bit mean, right?

“Fine. That was your one warning. If it happens again, you’re done. Got it?”

“It won’t happen again. It won’t. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.”

“You better be.”

Leah started up again at the same punishing pace as before, quickly building you back up close to your climax. 

“I-I’m close-!” 

“Keep those eyes on me, darling. I’ll get you there.”

You nodded and used every ounce of focus to keep your eyes on Leah’s. It wasn’t like it was a bad view at all, her eyes were gorgeous, but you were fighting the instinct to lose yourself completely, to screw your eyes shut and let the pleasure take over. 

Your breaths became shorter and shallower, and Leah knew what was coming. She remembered your body’s tells from last time. 

“Come for me, darling.”

Your body obeyed before your mind had caught up, and you vision blurred with the explosion of pleasure that was unlike anything you had felt before. 

It took some time for you to come back to Earth. 

By that point, Leah had already shed the harness and was cleaning herself up, having gotten herself off from fucking you and watching your face as you came, and was hovering near you on on the bed. You were closer to the pillows than you remembered being, Leah must have moved your body up to be more comfortable. 

You blinked. Tried to process what had just happened. You don’t think you had ever come that hard, not even close. Once you were more conscious and aware, you sat up and started to try and find your clothes. Leah wanted to stop you, tell you to lay down and stay, let her take care of you, but the words died in her throat. Instead she helped you back into your top and brushed your hair out like last time. 

“Your face is gorgeous when you come, by the way.”

“I…don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“I don’t know either. Get home safe?”

“I will, thanks Leah.”

She watched you leave her room. She felt like a coward. She was scared of how badly she wanted it. Wanted you. Wanted you for more than just a quick fuck. But Leah was also self aware. She knew she wasn’t exactly a good person. Definitely not a good girlfriend. Not what you deserved.So she managed with this. Fucked you in ways she hadn’t with anyone in years. Been gentler and kinder than she’d ever been with a girl.

And then kicked you out directly after. 

…..

The cycle continued for months. It started happening more often, not just at Pike parties. She would take you back from other frats, or invite you around during the week. 

Leah told herself it was strictly for pleasure. Finals were coming up, and Leah loved the “stress reilef” argument. But honestly? She just wanted to see you. But she couldn’t bring herself to accept those feelings. Even after months, she never let you stay over. Always kicked you out quickly after you were finished.

You told yourself you were done with her every other week. But you always responded to her texts. Always showed up at her door. Always waited at her feet like a good little puppy.

Your friends hated you for it. But they were also impressed. Leah had never had this kind of a long-term fuck buddy, not that anyone knew of. You must be pretty damn good if Leah was keeping you around this long. Although she was still fucking other girls. She made that clear. You weren’t, but you never said that out loud. 

They teased you about your self-sabotaging behavior. One Saturday morning they were especially curious, asking some more personal details about the sex. 

So you told them some. How she always wore the strap, every single time without fail. How she loved to talk. How she loved to look you in the eyes. 

“Wait, how does that one work if she’s fucking you from behind?”

“Um, she doesnt? Well, sometimes she does. But we do alot more cowgirl and missionary nowadays.”

You were aware of Leah’s history, but apparently not the extent of it, judging by the way your friends’ jaws dropped into the basement of the library you were attempting to study in.

“She did what?”

“Um, I just told you? Missionary and cowgirl are her favorites.”

“This is Leah you’re talking about? Leah Williamson?”

“Um…yes? Is that a big deal? I thought missionary was like, the most basic position ever.”

“It is, but not for Leah fucking Williamson. All she ever does is bend girls over. Maybe once in a blue moon she’ll make a girl ride her. I’ve heard stories of girls asking her to do missionary and she kicked them out.” 

“What? That doesn’t make any sense…why would she do it for me then? I didn’t even suggest it, she always does..”

“That’s like…insane. Dude, you might’ve broken Leah Williamson.”

…..

That conversation replayed in your head for hours on end. You decided to say screw it and text her, because you were going insane over there. You needed answers. Maybe Leah was rubbing off on you in other ways. You were never confrontational before her.

hi leah. 

Honestly, horrible text. But you didn’t care. She was the one who had apparently broken all the rules for you. You had the right to do this. 

The response came quick. She’d been better at responding recently.

hi there. sore?

You rolled your eyes. Even through text she was smirking. 

not rly, this girl went way too easy on me last night. 

watch it.

speaking of last night, i was wondering if i could come over. 

not to have sex. 

i need to talk to you about something. 

She read the message immediately, but the typing bubble didn’t appear for a while. A knot of anxiety curled in your stomach. Was this too much? Had you overstepped? I mean, she was the one who did it, but you were never this forward with her.

It took a while for a response to come in. 

ok. im at the house come to the front.

You blinked and read the message again to make sure you weren’t seeing things. Your feet were taking you in the direction of Pike before you even knew what was happening. 

The door opened as you ascended the short set of steps at the front. There she was.

  “Upstairs, come on.”

You nodded and followed her up to the room you’ve become intimately familiar with the past few months. You both sat on the bed, the awkward silence stretching out for a few seconds before she took a deep breath. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, um-,” you took a deep breath, you needed to be strong and confident for this, “-me and my friends were talking about…about you this morning. They were asking for…details…and we were talking about positions, so I said we mostly do missionary and cowgirl and…apparently that’s a big deal?”

Leah cursed herself internally. She had hoped you never would ask about that stuff. She hoped you would stay oblivious. Or at least that you would keep your thoughts to yourself. But she had to play it cool. 

“Is that like, a big deal, or something?”

You were taken aback. She hadn’t been short with you like that for months. You thought you were past that. 

“I don’t know, you tell me. They said you’ve kicked girls out for asking for something that wasn’t you hitting it from the back. But you insist on it with me.”

“You’re reading too much into it. I don’t think when I’m having sex, I just do what I feel like in the moment.”

“Do you make other girls keep eye contact with you?”

You didn’t know where this boost of confidence came from, but you were going to run with it. 

“What?”

“You make me hold eye contact with you when you make me come.”

“Yeah, so? I like to see girls’ eyes.”

“How do they hold eye contact when you’re shoving their faces into the pillow?”

Leah was screwed. She had walked herself right into that one. 

“Y-you’re reading way too much into everything. You aren’t special, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

The words physically pained Leah to say, but it was better than the alternative: facing the truth about her feelings for you. 

“Don’t lie to me, Leah.”

“I’m not lying. You need to leave.”

“Not until you admit what’s going on.”

“There’s nothing to admit!”

“Yes there is! You don’t just fuck someone in the most intimate way possible every weekend and shrug it off like that! I am special because you don’t do that shit with other people!”

“You’re delusional.”

“And you’re more emotionally unavailable than I thought was possible.” 

“You sound insane.”

“You are insane.” 

Leah crossed her arms and stared, willing herself to look tougher than she felt. You stepped closer. 

“I don’t know why you insist on denying it. I know you treat me differently than everyone else you fuck. I know I’m the longest you’ve had a fuck buddy for. I’m just asking why,” you said softly, looking up at her with the same eyes she insisted on watching every time you came. 

She was silent, and you could see the walls threatening to crash down. 

“I-I…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know what?”

“Anything when it comes to you! You- you make me feel crazy. I don’t understand it. I haven’t felt like that towards someone in too long, and it fucking scares the shit out of me! Since the first night, I was gentler and kinder and…softer with you than I was with anyone. I wanted to see your face. I wanted to get connected to you. It doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t feel like that, ever. I don’t. Not anymore,” her voice cracked on the last word. You stepped closer and placed a hand on her arm. It was foreign. She had fucked you six ways to Sunday but you had never been this close to her when you both had your clothes on. 

“All this because you’re scared you might have feeling for me?” you whispered. 

“I d-didn’t say that-”

“Yeah, you did. In way too many words.”

“Did I?”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck. I-I’m sorry..”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I need…you need…fuck.”

You guided her to sit back on her bed. 

She explained everything. Her past that made her this “monster” (her words, not yours), her fear of her feelings, how she hated kicking you out but did it anyways because she was scared, the way she tried to fuck other girls but no one was you, her low self-worth and her belief that you deserved better than her. 

She cried. You cried. You held her. She held on tight.

You fell asleep in her bed for the first time ever, tangled up together, fully dressed, dried tear tracks on both of your cheeks. 

Two days later she stuttered through an explanation of something, honestly you weren’t sure what as she wasn’t making much sense. You finally figured out that she was trying to ask you out. Trying to ask you to be her girlfriend, even after everything. 

You said yes, on the condition that she would talk to you and communicate. That she would learn to be okay with her feelings, to not be scared of them. That she would try her best to unlearn what she had believed for so long. 

[maeshoneyles]

wonderful way to end a very stressful and homesick day 🥰🥰 amazing writing as always!

Sunburnt - Alexia Putellas

Summary: The perfect vacation ends with you being spanked and sunburnt, all in the same day.

Word count: 10.2k

Warnings: (+18), spanking, d/s dynamics, use of dildo (r receiving), mention of skin burn (r is in pain, etc)

A/n: This fic has a little bit of everything! spanking, some smut, angst, also hurt comfort and sick!fic (r has sunpoison too)

Your vacation wasn't going as planned.

Well, it wasn't even a vacation, actually. You were in Switzerland with Alexia and the rest of the Spanish team.

You thought that Alexia's schedule wasn't going to be as busy as it was; that she would still be able to act as a proper human being after hours and hours of training, just like it was in Barcelona, where she got home tired most evenings, but still had energy to be with you, to go out, to hang out with friends and family.

But not here.

The Euros were a completely different competition from the League in Spain. The games' schedule, although fewer compared to the ones back at home, was more intense, both physically and mentally.

Alexia had booked a private room just for the two of you at the same hotel where the Spanish Confederation was staying.

That way, she could be with you and still participate in any extra activities the girls from the team might do, which included official tasks like a last-minute meeting while everyone was in their pyjamas, or a quick middle-of-the-night movie session organised by Patri.

The Euros had been hard and tiring, both for you and Alexia, but obviously more for her. But Alexia at least had things to do, work responsibilities that she had to attend to when she wasn't at the gym or on the pitch.

You, however, had nothing to do. Well, not anymore. 

You had visited every single restaurant, coffee shop and bakery around Lausanne (twice). You even visited the Olympic Museum, Lausanne's cathedral and the Tribunal arbitral du sport.

It's like you knew the city like the back of your hand after spending two weeks walking through its streets, waiting for Alexia to be done with whatever it was that she was doing.

You, as a very nice (very polite, patient) wife, hadn't complained to Alexia about it, but oh, were you getting bored of watching matches and training sessions for the last couple of days.

You had even taken days off from your work to be here with Alexia, so you couldn't even busy your mind with boring work stuff.

Time went on fast, and it wasn't thanks to the hours you had spent wandering the streets purposelessly. When you least expected it, the third week of the Euros had arrived. That meant the Spanish team (you included) were heading to Basel, another pretty city in Switzerland.

You took your time exploring the new city, which had a ridiculous amount of museums; not that you were complaining, especially as you made your way through the Kunstmuseum.

After one of your outings, you returned to the hotel room you were sharing with Alexia and noticed she was already there, probably released earlier from training.

You also noticed her agenda lying open on the mattress. You, of course, snooped through it while she was in the shower. The word 'México' was written across fourteen little squares, each one representing a day, in bright, bold letters that were impossible to ignore.

Blinded by foolishness (and way too many rom-coms), you immediately thought Alexia was planning a couples getaway - a short, romantic holiday.

You kept the 'Mexico' information tucked deep in your brain. You didn't want to ask Alexia about it, didn't want her to feel like her surprise was ruined just because you hadn't found better things to do than snoop through her things.

So you waited, and waited, and waited.

When the Euros were over, with that tragic ending (okay, maybe you were being a bit dramatic, but Alexia was hurt, alright?), you didn't have the courage to bring up Mexico, not when Alexia was so devastated.

Alexia spent three full days stuck inside the hotel room, cuddled up to you, her face tucked into the curve of your neck.

She swore up and down that she wasn't sad or upset. Whenever you begged her to open up and talk to you, she claimed she was just un poquito disappointed.

You knew your wife, so you let her believe she wasn't completely wrecked; you let her deal with it in her own way, which meant ignoring her emotions and pretending to be fine.

You didn't talk about football for three whole days; only when Alexia brought it up did you mention the sport. You were playing your part in her act, pretending alongside her that she was fine.

But then it happened.

As you two were having dinner in the hotel room, she just started crying - something that absolutely wasn't common for Alexia. She didn't like to cry, not in front of others, and certainly not in front of you, not even after six years together.

You let her cry, holding her tight against your chest, kissing the top of her head and promising it would all get better soon, that the pain wouldn't hurt for much longer.

She fell asleep like that, her warm breath on your neck, soothing you into your own sleep.

When you woke up the next day, Alexia was more distant, as if the weight of the loss was really settling in.

She wasn't as clingy as she had been and didn't want to explore the city with you; in fact, she didn't want to do anything that didn't involve rotting in bed or having dinner with her mom.

But again, you were a very good and patient wife, so you gave her space and time.

You gave her exactly what she needed: silent support and comforting - but not overwhelming - company.

After those days of grief passed, you slowly started getting your lovely wife back. You couldn't be happier to see Alexia smile again, to see her enjoy the rest of your days in Switzerland together with her by your side.

Alexia was being more physical again: kissing you in the mornings, murmuring sweet nothings against your temple before getting up to start the day. She (unfortunately) started her workout routine again, which meant you were woken up at 8 am every day just to go to the gym with her.

Not that you minded so much; Alexia always wore the tiniest shorts, so you had a hell of a good view while running on the treadmill.

Her hands were back on you again, more commanding than they had been before the tournament.

There was always a firm grip on your waist whenever you took too long getting ready; her fingers would lazily tug at your ponytail when you weren't paying attention to her.

She would give you a look when you were being too whiny for her liking - like she needed to remind you what type of behaviour was acceptable and what wasn't.

Alexia started doing that thing again, where she would stand behind you while you both brushed your teeth, hands on your hips, watching you in the mirror with an intensity that made it look like she was trying to memorise every detail of your face.

And at restaurants, she would order for you without asking, her hand finding your thigh under the table whenever you began to protest or when a pout formed on your face.

Even though Alexia's vulnerable side was endearing, you had also missed dominant Alexia. A lot

But still, after weeks, no Mexico was mentioned. No 'romantic trip' was spoken of either.

You were starting to get anxious and restless. Alexia noticed - she could read right through you.

You were in a small café, still in Switzerland, trying to enjoy the last few days before returning to Barcelona.

The coffee was hot in your hands, comforting given the cold weather. It was technically summer, but Switzerland's summer felt like Barcelona's autumn. You didn't like it - you were a sun child.

"Qué te pasa?" Alexia asked while still reading her menu, thinking about what to order.

Alexia was methodical, a little too much.

She had to consider all her options and weigh them before making a decision. You, on the other hand, were quick to order if you saw anything with the word 'chocolate' in it. Much easier, much simpler.

"Nothing," you said, your eyes peeking over the rim of the mug, the hot liquid making your glasses foggy. For a moment, you couldn't see Alexia, though she quickly grabbed a napkin and cleaned the visible portion of your glasses.

"You're a bad liar, mi vida," she smirked, glancing at you quickly before letting her eyes fall back to the menu. "I've already told you that."

You gulped.

You had learned the hard way that Alexia could spot your lies from a mile away; she didn't appreciate them. The way her jaw would tighten, how she would get that look in her eyes that meant you were in for it later.

You had gotten yourself in trouble more times than you could count, saying you were fine when you weren't, promising you had eaten properly while she was away when you had survived on coffee and whatever was in the hotel minibar.

She expected honesty from you, always. You, however, had a bad habit of telling her what you thought she wanted to hear, especially when the truth felt inconvenient.

She knew you had this habit, so she enjoyed the challenge of seeing whether you were being honest or not. It was like a little game of cat and mouse between you two.

It was hot, felt dangerous, depending on Alexia's mood. But right now, you weren't in the mood for lying, so you gave her the truth.

"Well," you began, taking another sip of your hot chocolate, your glasses fogging up again. "I was snooping through—"

"Snooping?" Alexia hummed, not looking at you, but you saw (barely through the fog) a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Snooping," you nodded confidently. Nothing wrong with looking through your wife's agenda, right? "And I saw a possible trip…"

She didn't let your words hang for long. "Mexico?" she said, lifting her fingers to call a waitress over.

"Sí," you said. She was holding your gaze now, making you feel exposed, even though you knew her eyes held nothing but love.

She looked at you, then waved her hand, waiting for you to continue.

"Mmm," you said, looking at your drink. "Is it like a work trip or…"

"Vacation," she said, interrupting you. "Us."

"Us?" you asked. Your mouth was open, ready to keep speaking, but then the waitress came, and Alexia held up her palm.

"I want a straight black coffee, por favor," she told the woman before turning her attention back to you.

You tilted your head. "Did you spend ten minutes looking at the menu just to get a straight black coffee?"

She shrugged. "Did you look at yours for thirteen seconds before asking for hot chocolate with chocolate chips added?"

You narrowed your eyes at her, slightly annoyed. "It wasn't thirteen seconds," you mumbled.

"It was," she said, leaning back into her seat, radiating confidence. You missed confident Alexia, too.

"No," you said, lifting your chin, "more like thirty seconds."

"Cabezona…" she said, with a sly smile. "You won't get to go on the Mexico vacation if you keep up this attitude."

The threat was playful, but you could see something shift in her expression, something warmer, something that had been missing between you two for some time.

"And then what would happen?" you said petulantly, leaning forward slightly. "You would go on vacation alone? Two weeks without me?"

"Sí," she nodded.

You placed your elbows on the table, getting closer to her. "You wouldn't survive two weeks without me."

You expected her to tease you back, maybe give you that look that meant you were pushing your luck. But instead, her hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing across your skin, and her eyes went soft, just like her voice.

"You're right," she said, barely above a whisper. "I would miss mi niña bonita."

One week later, and you were in paradise.

The flight to Mexico was smooth, and you spent most of it stealing glances at Alexia, still not quite believing this was actually happening. The first few days, you accompanied her to Mexico City to an More Than Eleven event, and then you two made your way to Los Cabos.

You two were staying in one of the most expensive hotels in the region, and everything was perfect, almost too perfect.

You and Alexia had sex more times than you could count, and there was something about the Mexican air that made Alexia more relaxed. 

She barely used her authoritarian voice; she let you get away with things she normally wouldn't, and you were surely making the most of it.

There was something about being away from Barcelona, away from football and schedules that made Alexia different. Softer, somehow, (she didn't like it when you used that word with her, though).

Alexia would wake up and kiss your shoulder before checking her phone; usually, it was the other way around. The stress of being a captain would take over her whole routine.

Alexia also let you choose restaurants without reading every single review first or trying to find the menu online, so she could have an idea of what to order.

She even let you take forever deciding what bikini to wear without that little impatient sigh she usually gave you, choosing to step aside and just watch you trying different pieces over and over. (For the first few days, anyway).

But now, on day five, you could see her patience starting to wear thin with how long you were taking to get ready. You saw it in the way she kept looking at her watch, her feet stomping on the hardwood floor of the hotel, creating an annoying pattern of thud thud thud.

"Vamos," Alexia said impatiently, her voice carrying that tone that made you tremble a little, a voice that made it clear that she wasn't asking.

You were in front of the bathroom mirror, the open door giving you a clear view of Alexia. She was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and fuck, she looked good.

She was wearing the smallest bikini you had ever seen. It was black, and the bottom of it was only covered by a pair of see-through white shorts that were, also, very small - illegally small - and that was rich coming from you, someone who loved to show a bit more skin than necessary.

You couldn't read her face properly. She was wearing her sunglasses, which was annoying; you were still inside, so technically, there was no need for that, but Alexia liked to keep you on edge, have the upper hand on the smallest things.

"Wait a little bit, Ale," you said, but your voice came out smaller than intended when you caught her reflection in the mirror. "I'm just getting my hair ready."

You couldn't see her pupils, but you knew she was looking right back at your reflection, as if already seeing how the day was going to turn out, realising that you were going to be more difficult than you had been since you two checked into the resort.

"It's a beach, mi amor," Alexia said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping behind you. Her hands found your waist, her thumbs stroking over your hip bones. "You look perfecta."

The way she said it, low and warm against your ear, made you forget that you were even worried about your hair, like she would worship you no matter how you looked.

"The beach won't move from where it is, Alexia," you managed, but your voice was breathier now, especially when her fingers started playing with the ties of your bikini bottom.

"No--" she agreed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, the sunscreen she used leaving a trail on your skin. "—but I might change my mind about being patient."

The threat in her voice was gentle, but you knew Alexia well enough to know she meant it.

When she wanted something, she got it. And right now, she wanted you on that beach. Fast.

Alexia was all about taking control, and you got off on giving it to her, although the whole beach situation was just another little piece of your rather peculiar dynamic.

"Okay, okay," you said, turning in her arms, feeling her lips on your forehead. "We can go now."

She smiled, seeming pleased. "Buena niña."

The praise made your cheeks warm, and Alexia noticed, of course, she did, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip before she stepped back.

"But first," she said, reaching for the sunscreen on the counter and pressing it into your hands. "This."

You looked down at the bottle, then back at her. "Right, yes."

"All of it," Alexia said, her eyes serious now, and fuck, you loved when she got all protective like this. "Today is going to be very hot, and you burn easily, mi vida. I don't want you hurt, especially because I have lots of ideas of what we can do tonight."

The way she said it, like your well-being was her personal responsibility, made something warm settle in your chest. But also - and this was the problem - you were already running late, and you really didn't want to get all greasy right now.

Your body looked so incredibly beautiful at this moment, the morning light was hitting your skin just right, and you knew the thick sunscreen Alexia insisted on using was going to mess up the pictures you were planning to take later.

You could put it on at the beach, right? Once you were there and had taken the photos, once you had gotten settled under the umbrella. It would be fine.

You had done it before - well, maybe not in Mexico, but still, you had done the exact same thing in Ibiza, and you didn't even burn. Okay, maybe Los Cabos was closer to the Equator line than Spain was, but that didn't matter now.

"Of course, amor," you said, giving her your brightest smile. "I'll do it in a second."

Alexia studied your face for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay. But don't forget, por favor."

"I won't forget," you said, smiling and pecking her on the lips before putting the sunscreen back on the counter, watching as Alexia turned around to pack whatever you two would need in one of your eco bags.

You took the last few seconds to just fix one little strand of hair that was out of place. Just this one strand, and then you would grab the sunscreen and put it in the bag for later.

You would apply it at the beach, obviously.

You weren't stupid. You would put it on once Alexia made her way to the sea to check the water temperature. You'd apply it quickly so she wouldn't even know you hadn't done it when she asked.

You intended to pack the goddamn suncream. You really did.

But then Alexia was calling 'Vamos, now' from the other room, and your hair still wasn't quite right, and before you knew it, you were grabbing your sunglasses and following her out the door.

The sunscreen bottle sat abandoned on the bathroom counter. You hadn't even realised you had left it behind.

Twenty minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of the rental car, watching Alexia adjust the mirrors, completely focused.

Alexia was trying to hide it, but you could see how eager she was to go to the secluded beach that she had read about in one of the hotel flyers. You didn't know anyone (besides Alexia) who still actually read those things.

"Excited?" Alexia asked, reaching over to squeeze your knee before starting the engine.

"Very," you said, and you meant it.

Today was supposed to be different.

You and Alexia had spent the first days of the vacation mostly at the resort beach, and while you had gotten very familiar with every inch of your hotel room (and each other), there was something exciting about exploring somewhere new, somewhere that was so isolated that it wasn't even considered a tourist spot.

Alexia looked gorgeous behind the wheel.

Her sunglasses were reflecting the morning sun, one of her hands was on the steering wheel, while the other found its way back to your thigh, almost possessively.

You were being a good passenger princess, feeding her pieces of the mango you had grabbed from the breakfast buffet and playing with her fingers when they weren't needed for driving.

The GPS was telling you to turn left in one kilometre, but you were too busy watching the way Alexia's lips curved around the fruit and how some of its juice was dripping down her chin to pay much attention.

"Left here?" Alexia asked, slowing down.

You glanced at your phone. "Um, next one, I think."

She raised an eyebrow but took the next turn, now feeding herself with the last bits of fruit. Five minutes later, when you passed the same place for the second time, she pulled over.

"Mi amor," Alexia said, and there was that patient but warning tone again. "Are you looking at the GPS or are you watching me eat?"

"Hmm, both?" you tried, giving her your most innocent smile.

"Mmm," she hummed, not entirely convinced. "Focus, por favor. I want to get there while it's still early."

You nodded, actually looking at the GPS this time, but your mind kept wandering.

There was something you were supposed to remember, something important, but Alexia's thumb was doing that thing on your leg, and your mind just wasn't working properly anymore,

Since she had pulled over, Alexia decided to finish eating her snack and clean her face before she started the engine again.

"Ok, so do I turn right or left now?" she asked, trusting that, now that you weren't as distracted, you would be of good help.

"Right," you said, looking down at the phone. Definitely right.

"Are you sure?" she gave you a side eye.

"Pretty sure," you said, checking the GPS one more time.

"Okay…" she said, taking the right. When she saw the road sign that said 'Playa', she finally relaxed. You were on the right path.

You were quiet for a moment, distracted by the way her thumb was stroking over your leg. Comfortable silence filled the car, with only soft music playing on the radio.

You watched the landscape as Alexia drove; everything was so beautiful here, the plants, the different kinds of birds and—

"Hey," Alexia said suddenly, and something in her tone made you look at her, leaving the pretty flowers and animals only in your memory. "You put on the sunscreen this morning, right?"

Your stomach dropped.

Shit. Shit. shit. shit.

The sunscreen…the fucking bottle on the bathroom counter.

The thing you were definitely going to remember to grab on your way out, except you had been too busy fixing that one stupid strand of hair that wouldn't cooperate, and then Alexia was calling for you, and it was getting late and-

"Hm, yes, I did," you lied, not looking at her, suddenly very interested in examining the air vent.

But of course, Alexia wasn't going to let it go that easily. She was methodical. She noticed everything, especially when it came to you.

"I didn't see you applying it," she said, and her voice was different now, a bit sharper.

"But I did," you said, trying to keep your voice steady even though your heart was racing.

"How come I didn't see it?" The radio volume went down. Fuck.

"You aren't omnipresent," you said, trying to sound playful, but it came out a little too defensive.

"I am omnipresent while on this vacation," Alexia said, and the way she said it made you feel warmth spreading through your body; that authoritative tone was back. "We are together 24/7."

"Don't exaggerate." You finally looked at her, giving her one of your dopey smiles she usually loved. "We are not as together as you think."

Alexia hummed (but it wasn't the good kind of hum).

"There's no sunscreen in the bag," she said, voice controlled in a way that made your thighs press together. How come her voice could get you wet?  "But I can turn around right now and go back to get it. If you didn't use it."

She was giving you an out. One last chance to tell the truth. But you could see how much she wanted to get to this beach, could see how she had been looking forward to it.

You didn't want to ruin her day over something so stupid.

Besides, it was just a few hours. You would stay under the umbrella or in the water. It would be fine.

You wouldn't get too burnt…maybe a little red, just enough for it to pass as a tan.

"Alexia, I already said I put the sunscreen on", you said impatiently, as if you had any reason to be annoyed.

Alexia was quiet for a long moment.

She didn't acknowledge your answer right away; she just drove. You could see her take in a deep breath, both her hands gripping the steering with with a bit more force than necessary.

It was like you could see the neurons in her brain working. She was torn between stopping the car in the middle of nowhere to: 1. Check if you really had applied the sunscreen, and 2. Give you a punishment for being short with her.

You didn't comprehend what kind of neuron path she chose, because the only thing she did was slide her hand higher up your thigh, her fingers pressing down just hard enough to make you really feel her.

"Okay then, mi vida," she said, her voice soft. "I know you wouldn't lie to me."

The squeeze she gave your thigh left no room for misinterpretation.

You were in trouble already, and you both knew it.

..

The sun was hot on your back, and the sand burned your feet. You were sweaty already (and so thirsty). Alexia wasn't playing when she told you today was going to be one of the hottest days of the season.

She was walking in front of you, holding the umbrella, the beach loungers, the bags with your belongings and snacks while you were just walking behind her.

If you weren't burning alive, you would have tried to get on her nerves with the 'why aren't you holding my hand?' prank, but it seemed like all your playfulness was left in the (cool, air-conditioned) rental car.

You liked the beach, you loved summer, but oh god... summers in Spain were completely different from whatever hell you were experiencing in Mexico (affectionately).

You felt as if your body was melting into the sand, a trail of your cells being left on every single grain of the arid beach.

But that was fine, totally fine. You were just being dramatic, right? (You were absolutely not being dramatic).

When Alexia said the beach was secluded, she meant it.

It took two hours to get there, and there wasn't a single soul you could see. There weren't any seagulls or crabs, as if they knew better than to be out in the sun during such a hot day.

The beach was so far from everything that the last gas station or store was hours behind you, meaning that you couldn't sneak off to buy sunscreen without Alexia noticing.

Which meant that you would either stay protected from the sun, or you would get burnt.

It was so hot and the UV rays were so powerful that, even under the umbrella Alexia had set up, you could feel your skin burning by the minute. You weren't getting red just yet, but fuck, you could feel it coming.

Alexia knew something was wrong. She always did.

You usually liked to go for a swim first thing after getting to the beach, then you would beg her to take a million pictures with you before settling on the lounger under the sun, working on your tan.

It was like your beach routine, and Alexia knew it by heart.

None of that was happening. You were lying down on the lounger, sure, but with how heavy the umbrella's shade was, you would never get a tan, something that you loved to do.

It was like you had turned into a vampire who couldn't handle any sunlight.

When Alexia asked you to go to the shore with her to pick up some seashells, you shook your head (way too quickly) and smiled.

"I think I will rather just chill here--" you said, trying to sound casual instead of like someone who was feeling like her epidermis was going to dissolve within the next couple of hours.

"--I read somewhere we aren't even supposed to pick up seashells …bad for the environment or something like that."

Alexia narrowed her eyes at your figure, looking at your body up and down. You could feel the intensity of her stare even though she was wearing her sunglasses.

Your skin looked perfect, beautiful, like it always did, but it didn't have the usual shimmer from sunscreen.

You also didn't smell like sunscreen. You could tell Alexia noticed when she came over to kiss your cheek - the way she lingered just a second too long, breathing you in.

When she offered you a back massage, her hands had paused on your shoulders, probably expecting to feel that familiar slick texture, but nothing came.

"Mi amor," Alexia said, settling into the lounger next to you, but her voice was so careful that it screamed suspicious. "Are you feeling okay? You're acting...different."

"Different how?" You asked, looking at her, feeling your heart skip a beat. Great, you were getting burnt alive, and your circulatory system was about to give out.

"You didn't go swimming, you won't leave the shade, you're being very quiet..." She tilted her head, studying you. "Are you sure you put sunscreen on this morning?"

And there it was. The question you had been dreading since you got out of the car.

"Alexia," you said, trying to sound exasperated instead of panicked, "I already told you I did." But your voice came out just a little too tight, and that's when Alexia took off her sunglasses.

You tried to look the other way, tried to seem interested in the wave patterns, but Alexia's hand grabbed at your jaw, turning you to face her.

Her eyes were burning into you, just like the sun rays were blazing against your skin. 

Suddenly, the world felt hotter, as if there was a conflagration happening somewhere near you, and by the way Alexia was looking at you, you were sure her gaze was the match that lit it.

"Are you allowed to lie?" Alexia asked, very calmly, her face completely blank. You could not read what she was thinking, what she was planning to do with you.

You wanted to shake your head, but her fingers were holding your face so tightly you knew it would leave marks.

You had to use your words.

"No," you said, voice low and guilty, embarrassed by how long you had tried to hide the truth.. "I'm not allowed to lie."

You hadn't expected the slap to come so fast - but it did. Alexia's palm landed on the side of your thigh, right over the knot of your biking bottom.

It stung immensely.

Partly because of the force of it, partly because your sensitive skin was already burning on its own. You couldn't help but wince when another smack came right after.

If Alexia seemed bothered by how uncomfortable the spanking was, she didn't show it.

There was no soothing touch to your bruised skin, no comforting words leaving her mouth. Alexia was furious, absolutely furious.

Her face was cold, her lips pressed tightly, a frown appearing on her forehead as she looked at you closely.

"Then why did you lie to me about the sunscreen?" she asked, hitting your thigh again, harder this time.

"I-I didn't want to make you go back an-and I just realised I forgot the suncream when we were already closer to the beach and--"

Tears started to pool in your eyes, and that's when Alexia's demeanour shifted to something softer, but not necessarily forgiving. 

You didn't even notice how she did it, but in a swift motion, you found yourself straddling her, her back pressed against the lounger.

She didn't say anything as tears streamed down your face, but she kept a thumb on your cheek, wiping each one away, while her other hand found its place on your thigh, right over the mark she had left adorning your skin. 

"You didn't apply the sunscreen like I told you to," Alexia reprimanded, moving her thumb from your cheek to grip your chin, making you look at her.

"I forgot—"

"No," she shook her head, jaw locked tight. "You didn't forget. You ignored me."

You didn't say anything, just swallowed.

"How many times did I ask you to use it?" Alexia asked again. Her eyes stayed on you,  and her hand was resting on your sore thigh

"A lot," you replied.

"A lot," she repeated, as if she couldn't believe this argument was happening. "And now look at you. You are already turning red, and that's even before I laid a hand on you.

Silence.

She shifted you on her lap so she could bring her torso closer to yours, her mouth dangerously close to your ear. 

"I should have spanked you more," she hissed. "Just to see if a punishment would finally make you listen."

You didn't argue. You were looking down, avoiding her gaze. You felt stupid now, dumb for thinking that you could get away with it, guilty for ruining Alexia's vacation.

Her lips brushed against your ear as she spoke quietly.

"Tomorrow, you won't step a single foot in the sun without me. You're going to stay inside the hotel room until your skin is healed properly. Do you understand me?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

"Words," Alexia said, pulling back to look at your face. "I want to hear you say it."

"I understand," you whispered, and your voice came out all shaky and small.

Alexia studied your face for a moment; her expression was unreadable, but when she finally spoke, her voice was still firm.

"Good. Here's what's going to happen," she brushed her thumb on your thigh again "We're going to pack up and head back to the hotel. Your skin is already burning, and I'm not letting it get worse."

You wanted to protest, to say that you had just gotten here, that she had been looking forward to this beach all morning. But one look at her face told you that arguing wasn't an option.

"What about your beach day?" you murmured, feeling the guilt eating you alive. "You were so excited about it."

"Do you really think I care about some beach?" Alexia asked, jaw tightening even more. "Sí, I wanted to stay, but your skin is already irritated. I should have made sure you had applied the sunscreen before leaving the hotel," she murmured the last part, but it was enough for you to hear it.

"But I'm the one who lied—"

"Sí," she said, thumbs stroking your cheeks. "You disobeyed, you lied, and now you're paying the price. And we will talk about that later, but right now, you are more important."

She said it like you were the most important thing in her world (even when you had fucked up). It made you want to cry all over again.

"I'm sorry, Ale," you said, and you meant it. "I'm really sorry. I just... I didn't want to disappoint you by making us go back, and then I made everything worse—"

Her thumb pressed lightly against your sore skin, a warning more than a comfort, making you keep quiet.

"I don't want to hear a word from you the whole way back to the hotel," she ordered. "Got it? This is your punishment, since a more physical one isn't an option."

You had to fight the urge to talk back to beg her to let you speak, to let you mumble over and over how sorry you were, but you also didn't want to make Alexia more angry, so you just nodded.

She let her hand on your face linger for a bit longer; you leaned into her touch.

"You have to trust me to take care of you, even when it's inconvenient." Was the last thing she said before she gripped your hip, guiding you off her lap, back to your lounger.

Then she stood up and gathered your belongings.

You watched, feeling the place where she smacked you sting just like every other part of your body.

Your cheeks were starting to burn, your nose too. You were feeling hot, so fucking hot, you just wanted to feel cool again

"Okay, get up," Alexia said without looking at you, shoving the last of your things into the eco bag. "We're leaving."

Her voice was sharp, and her attitude cold, but even then, she managed to gather everything in one hand just so she could reach her other hand out to you, a small and temporary peace offering.

You took her hand, letting her pull you through the sand back to the car.

You let Alexia lead, following close behind. The sting on your thigh was hurting with each step, but it didn't hurt more than the guilt of ruining Alexia's day because of your stubbornness.

"I'm not going in there," you said, stomping your feet to the ground, taking a few steps behind until your back was pressed against the bathroom wall, and for a few seconds, you felt relief from the contact with its cold tiles

You knew you were being difficult.

You knew Alexia was really trying to control the urge to just bend you over her lap and spank you. But there was no way in hell you were getting into the shower, not with the way your back was burning.

You had a fair share of sunburns throughout your life (maybe not as severe as this one), but it was enough for you to know how much showering while sunburned hurt.

"I'm not asking, Y/n," Alexia said impatiently, your towel already in her hand. "Get in there. There's sand everywhere. I don't want our room to turn into a desert."

"But it will hurt," you pouted, looking at her with the biggest doe eye you could pull, trying to soften her up…but of course, it didn't work."

She didn't have to say anything; not a single word left her lips, but the way she was looking at you was enough to make you walk towards her, head down.

It was the kind of look that screamed how close she was to losing it, how close she was to punishing you, to putting you in your place.

If your skin wasn't scarlet red, you knew she would have you knelt in a corner of the room by now, or even used the belt on you. But she was being compassionate; you, however, were being very bratty, even though you didn't intend to act like one.

"I don't care if it hurts," Alexia said as you stood in front of her; she turned you around with a hand on your hip before untying the knot to your top, letting it fall to the floor.

"You are in this situation because you didn't listen to me," she continued, her mouth on your ear as her index finger pulled your bikini bottom down, leaving you naked. "—and now you are making it all harder because, guess what? You still aren't listening."

The sound of the slap echoed through the bathroom before you could even feel it.

Your body instinctively tried to create some distance between you and Alexia, but her hand was firm on your waist, keeping you in place.

"It's like you want to get on my nerves today," Alexia said, caressing the place she just smacked. "You are hurt. I know your skin is burning, but you still want to be a brat and do whatever you want to do? That's not how it works."

"But I just don't want—"

Another smack, to the other side of your ass now.

The pain rushed through your body; there was usually pleasure that came any time Alexia spanked you, but your skin was so unbearably sore that no endorphins were released into your bloodstream.

"Are you going to behave now, or do I have to keep on being mean and hurt you more than you already have?" She asked, her voice sharp. "Because if you don't care about your own body, I won't care either."

You knew she wasn't playing around.

That if you so much as disobeyed her form now on, she would treat you as if it were just another day that you were misbehaving; she wasn't going to be soft.

You didn't want that, especially since your burnt skin was hurting more and more by the second.

"I'm going to behave," you said quietly, looking down. "I'm sorry."

There was silence; you couldn't feel Alexia's presence at your back anymore. Still, you knew better than to turn around. You heard the shower turn on, followed by the sound of wet clothing hitting the floor.

You weren't expecting warm lips on your skin, but that's exactly what Alexia gave you.

Her mouth was gentle, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your back, right over the first thoracic vertebra.

"Buena niña," she murmured, her tone completely different from just a few seconds ago.

She took your hand and turned you around. That's when you realised she was also naked, though your gaze didn't linger, she quickly guided both of you beneath the freezing water of the shower.

"Fuck," you hissed, trying to move away, but Alexia locked her arms around you, her chin resting lightly on your head.

The drops of water felt like knives against your raw skin. It was so cold you were sure you would get hypothermia.

"It'll feel better soon," Alexia promised, her soft hand stroking your back so delicately it felt like the touch of a ghost.

"But it hurts-" you whispered into her chest, letting your head rest against her chest ",-A lot, Ale."

"I know, bebé," she said, leaning back to look at you properly, a sad smile on her lips. "But we need to hydrate your skin. You are going to be good and let me take care of you now, right? I don't want to spank you more than I already did."

Her words carried so much honesty that it hit you…Alexia hadn't enjoyed punishing you. 

She had done it because it was the only way you would understand how serious things were, how badly your skin had been damaged from the amount of time you spent out in the sun without protection.

"I want you to take care of me," you admitted softly.

And for the first time that day, Alexia looked pleased.

She took the soap and began rubbing it over your body, trying to remove the grains of sand that had found home in your body; you winced the entire time.

Each time the soap touched you, it felt like fire to your skin.

The pain didn't fade when Alexia kissed your forehead, nor did it ease when she shut off the water and wrapped you in a fluffy towel that, although it was made of silk, felt like sandpaper scraping across your skin.

But Alexia wasn't the only one who could read body language.

You saw the way she straightened her posture, you saw the redness on her cheeks; she was still angry, but more at herself than at you.

And it seemed like she believed she had every right to be.

Yes, you were an adult, responsible and all that, but Alexia should have noticed you hadn't applied sunscreen. She should have checked the beach bag. Or that's what she thought.

You could be inattentive sometimes, and she knew it. She was supposed to look out for you. Always.

Alexia guided you to the bedroom; she left you standing at the foot of the bed while she spread the softest blanket she could find across the mattress.

"Lie down," Alexia said. Her voice was cold, but the gentle pat to your lower back showed she still cared.

You obeyed and positioned yourself on the bed with the towel still tight around you, trying to ignore how much it hurt each time you shifted even an inch.

You looked at her with wide eyes. She looked back, a shy smile was tugging at her lips before it vanished when you frowned…the pain was growing unbearable again.

Alexia walked over to the suitcase on the floor, kneeling beside it while digging through it until she found the Babosa cream she always carried on trips.

She didn't speak as she stepped closer to you; she didn't say a word when she took the towel away from your body.

Relief washed through you as Alexia turned on the air conditioner; your raw skin thanked her instantly. Your skin thanked her even more when she crawled into bed beside you and began spreading Aloe Vera over it tenderly.

The silence that followed was comforting, but it didn't feel right.

You noticed how Alexia's breathing was uneven; you grew tired of staring at her, trying to read her thoughts and finding nothing.

Alexia rubbed along your thigh, purposely ignoring your core.

You caught her wrist lightly; she could have pulled free if she wanted to, but she didn't. Alexia stayed still as if your grip were made of steel (it absolutely wasn't).

"You're upset," you whispered, brushing your thumb over the back of her hand. "I know it's my fault. I'm sorry."

Her eyes were fixed on your hands.

"You should listen when I tell you to do something," she said finally.

You studied her face and then nodded. "I should."

"But you didn't." She pulled free now, not so gently. She held your hips before flipping you onto your stomach.

Her cool (and cream-covered) hands found your ass quickly, gripping, massaging over the marks she had left earlier. A print of all five of her fingers staring back at her.

"That won't happen again," she said. The phrasing should have been a question, but her tone made it a command.

"It won't," you mumbled into the blanket, as if it even needed an answer.

She smoothed Aloe Vera over every inch of skin she could touch. You felt instant alleviation.

Her lips also offered some sort of allayment. She kissed your neck, your equally burned shoulder, your back, and finally, she pressed her mouth to the faint hand prints on your ass.

Alexia placed her hands on each side of your body, trapping you in, but not pressuring you into the mattress.

"How are you feeling, bebé?" she murmured, brushing her nose against your temple.

"Good," you answered hesitantly, but not because it wasn't true, but because her tone was dangerous.

"If I gave you a punishment right now," she said slowly, "would you take it?"

Suddenly, it felt like your ribcage was trapping your lungs; no air was getting in, and your breath caught as her breath met your ear.

"I would take anything you give me," you whispered, giving her the only answer she wanted. The right answer.

That earned you a kiss on the top of your head.

"Anything?" she asked, her lips moving down your back, leaving cool, wet trails over the Aloe Vera cream.

"Uhum," you replied, eager.

"Alright." She said it like the matter was settled and the conversation was over.

You didn't lift your face from the mattress; you didn't dare to look at what she was doing.

Maybe your punishment was being left alone in the bedroom, naked, burning and trembling with need.

You weren't far off.

You heard her cross the room, the suitcase zipper being opened again. The mattress dipped as Alexia returned, straddling you with her knees.

The snap of a cap reached your ears, and for a second, your triggered brain thought back to the sunscreen, but the sweet strawberry scent quickly told you otherwise.

You quickly realised what it really was - the purpose of the bottle she had just opened.

Alexia didn't ask permission as she spread your legs; she didn't make a sound as cool drops of lube slid down your opening, making you shiver from how cold it was.

She wasn't chivalrous when she parted your folds open and dragged the head of the dildo against you. She wasn't courteous when she pushed it inside in one swift thrust.

Alexia was gracious enough to place a comforting hand on your back.

She was considerate enough to give you a few shallow thrusts and let your body adjust to the dildo as she brushed your hips with her thumb.

You didn't speak, you didn't dare open your mouth. You just closed your eyes, focusing on the sensation of being full, of having Alexia near, of the cold air brushing your tender skin perfectly.

The burn was still there, but the Aloe Vera was working.

The dildo buried inside your warm walls made you dizzy, relaxed and full, enough that the pain of your raw skin didn't feel as overwhelming as before.

"You're going to stay like this for one hour," Alexia whispered against your neck. "That's how long the Aloe Vera needs to work, sí?"

"S-sí," you stammered, trusting whatever Alexia had planned.

"Perfecta." She kissed your neck gently. "While you cool down, I'll keep myself busy. Without you, unfortunately."

She said 'unfortunately', but her tone was far too pleased.

At first, you thought that this whole situation didn't feel much like a punishment; the sting from her spanking wasn't too bad, the dildo felt incredible inside you - but oh, you were soon to realise it was all torture.

Alexia didn't let you move.

She didn't let you rock your hips for more, trying to get some friction on your clit or get the dildo to move.

She didn't let you see what she was doing behind you as her soft moans filled the room.

You didn't even know how she was touching herself… was she using the other dildo? The bullet vibrator? Her fingers? You had no idea.

And Alexia - cruel, cruel Alexia - wasn't going to tell you.

She came twice.

At least, that's what she told you when the hour was up.

She slid the dildo from you, admiring how slick it was, how wet you were, before gently holding your hips and turning you over to face her.

You hated yourself for disobeying, for being careless.

Alexia had that look, the one she always had after orgasming. Her lips were flushed pink (almost scarlet), her face was soft, as if all the muscles in her body had relaxed. Her pupils were wide. 

You didn't get to see her climax. You hadn't seen her lips part in an 'o', hadn't seen her legs shaking; you only heard the muffled sounds of her moans.

Alexia leaned down and pressed her mouth to your dry lips, pressing her tongue to your bottom lip, asking for entry. You let her in, your hand were resting on her back, tracing the tattoos you knew were there.

Everything felt light, like you were wrapped in a soft haze of warmth. Alexia's body felt so hot against you, even though she was holding herself up on her elbows.

Your eyes were closed as you enjoyed the soft kisses she was giving you, though you did wonder why she had turned the air conditioning to such a low temperature. But it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered when Alexia was on top of you. It was like you couldn't think or worry about anything, as if your mind didn't need to work properly.

Not when Alexia was next to you.

Alexia's hand moved to your waist, brushing the top of your ribcage. Your skin wasn't bothering you as much anymore - the cream had worked - but you felt weird.

Not a good type of weird. You were starting to feel confused, too tired, too..

Alexia pecked your cheeks, and that's when she stilled.

She held herself up and looked down at you worriedly. You opened your eyes to look back at her, but your eyelids were heavy.

You wanted to take a nap. A really good nap.

Alexia placed the palm of her hand on your cheek, then on your forehead. You wanted to trace the frown between her eyebrows, but you felt too weary all of a sudden.

"You're hot," Alexia said under her breath, more to herself. She placed her lips on your forehead for a quick second before getting up from your body.

You instantly shivered from the cold. You wanted to pull her back, but you didn't have any strength.

"No 'm not," you mumbled, bringing the towel that was scattered on the bed around your body. "I'm cold. I want my clothes."

Alexia looked more concerned now.

"I think you have sun poisoning," she said, looking down at your figure on the bed before quickly going to the suitcase to take out a change of clothes for you.

She helped you sit up on the bed, carefully dressing you. A patient hand stayed on your back, holding you upright whenever you murmured about wanting to lie down.

Once you were dressed, Alexia helped you under the blankets and carried the towel to the bathroom. She turned the air conditioner off and then turned to you, standing (comically) still at the foot of the bed.

"What?" you managed to say, opening one (only one) eye to look at her, saving up some energy.

"I- I don't know what to do," Alexia confessed, looking so utterly confused, something you didn't see on her face often.

She was always so sure, always knew everything, always had the upper hand in any given situation. But not now.

Who would have thought sun poisoning would be the downfall of Alexia Putellas?

"You've never had sun poisoning before," she continued, finally moving and sitting on the mattress beside you, cupping your jaw tenderly. "Do you feel any pain? Do you need anything or—"

"My head hurts," you interrupted, a pout on your face that Alexia was quick to brush with her thumb. "My skin doesn't. I think the cream was good."

Alexia hummed, but the way her lips were pressed together told you she wasn't so relieved. She took the blanket that was over your body, tucking you in even more, as if she didn't know what to do with her restless hands.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Mhm," you nodded, closing your eyes.

She poked your forehead. "Keep them open."

"No."

"Sí."

"Why?" You looked at her.

She shrugged. "I don't know what the protocol for sun poisoning is."

"I don't think the protocol involves me keeping my eyes open," you murmured.

"It helps me know you didn't die," she argued, poking you again. "Open. Don't make me say it again."

You lazily slapped her hand away, but she was quick and caught your wrist, putting it down on the mattress.

"I'm serious," she said, rolling her eyes before going to the telephone on the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" you asked, sitting up on the bed so fast you felt dizzy.

"Calling the hotel's infirmary," she said.

"Why?" you asked, brow furrowing.

"To ask what the protocol for sun poisoning is!" she said as if it were obvious.

"Not everything has a protocol, Alexia!" you said in the same tone.

"Then they should make one! You look horrible already! I think you have a rash on your cheek and—"

"Horrible?" you said in a low voice, looking at her, but barely able to see her figure properly because your eyes were already filling with tears. "I look horrible?"

If Alexia was completely confused before, now she was fearing for her life.

"No, no, no, mi amor," she said, dropping the phone as she rushed to you, waving her hands as if she could banish the words she had just said from the air. "I didn't mean it like that."

You dodged her arms as they tried to wrap around you.

Sure, your face was completely scarlet, and some places were already starting to peel. Maybe you had a few rash spots… but horrible?

Maybe Alexia was right. Or maybe it was your fever.

You did look horrible. Actually, you looked monstrous.

You hid your face in your hands, ignoring the way your skin burned from the contact. You let yourself cry. sob.

This vacation was a stupid idea.

You should have stayed in Barcelona and let Alexia go on vacation alone.

Maybe that way she would have been able to enjoy a beach day without her dumb wife forgetting the sunscreen and having a rash-covered face.

"Mi vida…" Alexia said helplessly, very carefully hugging you, putting her hand on your shoulder. "No, don't cry."

"I ruined your vacation," you sobbed. "You get like three weeks off all year, and I ruined them all."

"That's not true," Alexia shook her head, shifting you so you were straddling her lap, your hands still covering your face.

"It is true," you argued. "Everything is ruined and my head hurts and my skin's burning and I'm so fucking cold and—"

Alexia held both your wrists in one hand as she placed the other on your back and brought your body closer to her, so you were resting your face against her chest.

"Don't say that," she murmured, moving her body so she was rocking you. "I love you. I would never in a billion years want to go on a vacation without you."

"Even if my skin is filled with blisters?" you asked against her chest.

"Sí," she said solemnly. "I don't care about blisters."

"You're lying."

"I'm not." She kissed the top of your head. "I don't lie. Not to you."

Alexia held you until you stopped crying, and then she laid you down on the bed, kissing your forehead before going to the suitcase (again), looking for some fever medicine.

She fed you a protein bar she had in her bag before giving you some ibuprofen and water. She was very insistent that you needed to drink the whole bottle, so you did.

The medicine made you drowsy almost immediately. Your eyelids grew heavy as Alexia tucked the blankets around you again.

"Sleep, mi amor," she whispered, lying down beside you. "I'll be right here."

You wanted to tell her she didn't need to stay up, that she should get some rest too, but the words felt too heavy on your tongue. Instead, you let yourself fall asleep.

When you woke up, there was sunlight peeking through the curtains, and your head felt a bit clearer.

The fever had broken sometime during the night, leaving you feeling weak and sweaty, but a little more like your usual self.

You turned to find Alexia curled up beside you on top of the covers. Her jaw was tight, as if, even in her sleep, she wasn't able to relax completely.

It was like Alexia knew you had opened your eyes, because she quickly sat back against the headboard, waking up.

"You're awake," Alexia's voice was groggy as she stirred, immediately reaching over to feel your forehead. "How do you feel? How's the fever?"

"Better," you said honestly, though your skin still felt very raw, it would probably feel like that for some days. "Did you sleep well?"

She rubbed her eyes.

"Well… yeah. I kept checking on you every hour to make sure you weren't getting worse." She gestured at the phone you didn't realise was at her side. "I may have also become an expert on sun poisoning. Did you know acetaminophen is better for fevers?"

"I definitely didn't know that," you smiled lazily. "What else did you find, Dr. Putellas?"

"Hmm" she said, straight up as if she was talking business. "You should feel better in three days, but your skin might peel for a week or two-" She looked at you up and down, as if you were a patient she was examining. "-probably two. And we need to keep you hydrated and out of the sun."

"So no beach today?"

"No beach for you for the rest of the trip," she said firmly, but then her expression softened. "But that's okay. We can do other things."

Guilty settled in your chest again. "Ale, we came here to relax and enjoy the beaches and—"

"I came here to be with you," Alexia interrupted. "Beach or no beach, sun or no sun. Besides," she smiled mischievously.

"-I've already planned the itinerary for our vacation. We'll order room service for lunch, then we'll watch some films, and then we'll go to the hotel spa, and at night we can go out, like vampires."

You pecked her lips and chucked. "So that means we are staying inside the hotel for the rest of our trip, during the daytime?"

"We can go outside during the day," she said after a few seconds of thinking about it. "But when we do, I'm personally applying sunscreen to every inch of your body."

"Every inch?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Every. Inch." She leaned down to kiss your forehead.

A/n: There are two more scenes I wanted to add (smut), but I didn't have the energy to do so.

Hope u guys enjoyed it! I've been writing this for so many hours, and I don't have Alexia to take care of me and my poor back.

Tag list: @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics @riyaexee @miaereen@kiwidreamersstuff @valuyhh