holyblonded

[holyblonded]

Hope your doing well!

i’m doing pretty good aside from the heat! how about y’all?

[holyblonded]

Can we see more Sunny with the broken wrist? the girls being gentle, pliss

it wasn’t much tbh cause sunny was like 12 when it happened. leah did have to grovel for forgiveness!

[holyblonded]

wartime | chasing sunshine

pairings: leah williamson x teen!reader, lionesses x teen!reader

summary: you and leah get into during camp leading to war

warnings: possible injuries

notes: this fic was in my drafts for so long, i forgot to post before nationals (got the dub btw) also this was inspired by the show baby daddy 😭

You had known Leah Williamson since you were nine years old. Back then, you were still the scrawny new kid at the Arsenal academy, tiny and wiry with oversized boots and a chip on your shoulder the size of London itself. You were a little loud, a little quiet, a little angry at the world—but even at that age, Leah saw something in you. Something sharp and fast and completely magnetic with a ball at your feet.

She took you under her wing almost immediately. Not in the showy, mentor-y way, but the quiet kind. She checked in on you between drills. Showed you how to hold your line tighter, how to time your tackles cleaner. Brought you extra protein bars when she noticed you skipped lunch too many times. Then, somewhere between weekend babysitting shifts and emergency school pickups, Leah went from being your big sister figure to your pseudo-mum, especially when your actual parents didn’t bother showing up.

So, naturally, you didn’t argue often—but when you did, it was apocalyptic. There had been yelling. Doors slamming. One time you drank the last of her favorite Earl Grey and didn’t say a word until after she came back from the shop with hopes of a perfect cup. Another time, you’d gotten into a fight at school and Leah had to come collect you early, again. By the time she got you home, her voice was gone from yelling and your pride was bruised from her disappointment.

Out of survival—and honestly, boredom—you created a system to keep the peace. A way to settle things.

The Williamson War.

It started out simple. Just you, Leah, and the rest of the Williamson clan. Jacob. David. Amanda acting as the designated referee. Challenges ranged from backyard obstacle courses to penalty shootouts to who could make the better beans on toast. But over time, the system caught on. Somehow, the Lionesses adopted it too, like it was part of the unspoken team constitution. If there was drama, or indecision, or just plain stubbornness between teammates—Williamson War it was.

So when you stormed into the St. George’s Park lounge after a light training session and heard raised voices—your voice and Leah’s—the team collectively groaned.

“Sunny,” Leah huffed, hands on her hips, “what aren’t you understanding about the situation?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “That you think you get to control my life because you taught me how to do a proper throw-in when I was ten.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not five, Leah. I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m your captain.”

“You’re not my captain when it’s about my life!”

“Oh, for the love of—don’t you dare—”

But it was already too late. You plucked your cochlear implants off and held them up in the air like a victory trophy. “Can’t hear you, sorry!” you said cheerfully before dropping them into her outstretched, infuriated hand.

Leah narrowed her eyes and started signing, her hands sharp and aggressive.

“Put them back in. Now.”

You grinned and signed back, “Bite me.” Then promptly closed your eyes and leaned back into the couch like a gremlin entering a power nap.

“Unbelievable!” Leah shouted as Keira and Georgia appeared out of nowhere to drag her away like riot control. Meanwhile, Alessia and Grace rushed to you, snatched your implants from Leah’s hands, and re-attached them to your ears.

“Right,” Alessia said, sighing as your implants clicked on and the world returned to full volume. “What’s going on?”

“Leah thinks she can captain my life,” you spat, gesturing violently in Leah’s direction. She was across the room, fuming in a fleece pullover, arms folded with that stiff jaw clench you recognized from when she was really, really trying not to explode.

“Oh, do not!” she yelled back.

“Do so!”

“Okay, enough,” Alessia said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Let’s all take a deep breath.”

“I’ll breathe when she breathes,” you said flatly, still glaring at Leah like she’d set your boots on fire.

Leah’s eyes blazed. “You know what?” she said, standing up tall, cracking her neck once. “Fine.”

She raised one hand high. “One, two—”

“Leah, be careful now,” Lucy said from her beanbag throne in the corner, eyes wide.

“Three, four—”

“Leah, it doesn’t have to come to this!” Keira begged, half-laughing, half-exhausted.

“I declare a Williamson War!”

Beth Mead gasped so loudly it echoed off the lounge walls. Georgia threw a hand over her mouth like she was witnessing treason.

Alessia and Grace looked at each other, wide-eyed, clearly wondering what they had just signed up for.

You stood up so fast your water bottle fell over.

“Five, six, seven, eight—winner decides the loser’s fate!” you yelled, pointing directly at Leah like you were in the middle of a WWE promo.

A chorus of groans echoed around the room.

Niamh turned to Millie with a confused squint. “What… is happening?”

Millie, who had clearly seen it all before, sighed like she’d just aged ten years. “It’s a Williamson War. Leah and Sunny invented it when Sunny was still at the academy. It’s how they settle literally everything.”

“How serious does it get?”

Millie deadpanned, “Last time they did this, Leah broke Sunny’s wrist in an overzealous three-legged race. 2021. Never forget.”

“Oh my god.”

Grace looked nervously between you and Leah, who were both now stretching like you were about to play in a final. “Have either of you ever considered, I don’t know, talking it out like emotionally stable adults?” she asked hopefully.

You and Leah answered in perfect harmony:

“Too late for that.”

“This is war.”

The field was set. Bibs had been thrown on. Cones had been dramatically slammed into the grass. A whiteboard stood nearby, scrawled with WILLIAMSON WAR SCOREBOARD in messy pink Expo marker handwriting (courtesy of Ella).

Sarina— who agreed to ref the “team bonding”— stood at midfield in full tracksuit, arms crossed, her face unreadable. Like this was a World Cup Final. Not a civil war between the Lionesses.

“Challenge One,” Sarina announced. “Crossbar Chaos. Spin twenty-eight times, then hit the crossbar sixteen times.”

Grace turned to you, wide-eyed. “Wait, we have to hit the crossbar sixteen times?”

“That’s Sunny’s age!” Alessia said brightly.

“Yeah but I’m not built like her!” Grace hissed.

“None of us are,” muttered Aggie, cracking her knuckles.

Across the way, Beth Mead was bouncing on her toes, already holding a ball, already chewing invisible gum, already way too amped for what should’ve been a joke.

Leah smirked from the sideline, arms folded. “We got this. Beth was born for chaos. She thrives in nonsense.”

You snorted from the other side. “Perfect. This game’s made for us.”

Round One: Aggie (Team Sunny) vs. Beth (Team Leah)

Beth and Aggie stepped to the line like it was a duel at high noon. Ella had a paper towel roll she was pretending was a mic.

“Ladies and gents!” she announced in her best ring announcer voice. “In the red corner, we have the Pride of Whitby, the Destroyer of Defenses, Queen of the Rebound—Beth Mad Mead!”

Beth winked at the imaginary crowd and blew kisses.

“And in the blue corner, Team Chaos’s silent killer, the low-key powerhouse, the human missile—Aggie Grim Reaper Jones!”

Aggie gave an unimpressed shrug and mumbled, “Let’s just get this over with.”

“You’ll spin twenty-eight times,” Sarina declared. “Then you may proceed to the shooting zone. Crossbar hits only count if the ball bounces back in bounds. No wild rebounding into Scotland.”

“Scotland doesn’t want your balls anyway!” Ella heckled.

“On your marks,” Sarina said.

Beth dropped into a squatting stance like a gremlin about to do a backflip.

“Get set.”

Aggie muttered, “My breakfast is going to come back to haunt me.”

“GO!”

Both girls began spinning. The count was on. Ella and Alessia were chanting the numbers like a cult. You and Leah stood behind their teammates, yelling advice that no one was hearing.

“SPIN FASTER, AGGIE!” You shouted, cupping your hands like a coach on the sideline.

“MORE COMMITMENT, MEADY!” Leah yelled. “YOU SPIN LIKE A WEAK FAN!”

At spin number 12, Beth wobbled sideways and screamed, “THE EARTH IS MELTING!”

Aggie tripped over her own foot and collapsed to one knee before popping back up with pure rage. “I’M FINE!”

“Keep going! 18! 19!” Alessia yelled, giggling uncontrollably.

By spin 25, both were a mess. Beth’s hair was flying. Aggie’s arms were flailing like she was swimming midair.

“TWENTY-EIGHT!” screamed Ella, practically frothing at the mouth.

Beth stumbled to the shooting zone like a drunk baby deer and whiffed her first attempt so hard it rolled backwards. “I HATE PHYSICS!”

Aggie’s first shot actually hit the crossbar—but ricocheted directly into Georgia’s shin on the sideline.

“OW! WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME?!” Georgia yelped.

“GET IN BETH!” Lucy screamed. “THINK OF THE NORTHERN PRIDE!”

Beth attempted to stabilize, took a deep breath, then launched her second attempt… and hit the post.

“WRONG BAR!” You called out gleefully. “OPEN YOUR EYES, MEAD!”

Aggie scored again. Clink. One down. Fifteen to go.

Leah was now squatting like a football dad, muttering under her breath. “C’mon, Beth. Lock in. Visualize. Channel the Beth who scored against Chelsea. Channel the Beth who stole my last yogurt and lived.”

Beth finally hit one. Clink. She screamed like she’d just scored a penalty in the Euros.

Ella counted out loud, way too fast. “THAT’S TWO! OR SEVEN! I DON’T KNOW ANYMORE!”

Aggie was at four. Then five. Then fell to the ground, dramatically holding her temple. “I’m gonna vom.”

You leaned over her. “No, you’re gonna win. Vom after.”

Beth hit her third bar and went full sprint into a celebratory dance that wasted precious time. Leah tackled her back into place. “Keep. Going.”

Alessia looked like she was crying from laughter. Grace was on the ground.

“FIFTEEN!” Ella roared at the top of her lungs.

Aggie scored the sixteenth bar. Sarina blew the whistle.

Team Sunny exploded. Ella tackled Aggie to the ground. You leapt into the air, nearly pulled a hamstring, and started yelling “GET DUNKED ON” at Leah.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Leah bellowed. “MEADY, I BELIEVED IN YOU.”

Beth flopped to the grass like she’d been assassinated. “My legs are noodles.”

Georgia sighed, still holding her shin. “This war is already a disaster.”

Sarina adjusted her stopwatch. “Team Sunny: 1. Team Leah: 0.”

Leah glared at you across the grass. “You got lucky.”

You gave her a two-finger salute. “I am lucky. I’m lucky you’re washed.”

Beth lifted her head from the grass. “Wow.”

You looked at her. “Love you, Beth.”

Beth muttered, “Rot.”

There was a certain energy to a nugget toss.

Maybe it was the smell—crispy, greasy, fresh out the team kitchen’s air fryer. Maybe it was the sheer absurdity of elite professional athletes standing ten feet apart with chicken nuggets in hand, trying to yeet them into each other’s mouths. Maybe it was the fact that you were taking it way too seriously.

Either way, the sideline was packed. Ella was filming like it was her full-time job. Alessia and Aggie were doing warm-ups with ketchup packets. Beth was shouting unsolicited tips from behind a cone, as if she was the Gordon Ramsay of projectile poultry.

You were bouncing slightly on your toes, eyes sharp, laser-focused. Grace stood across from you, giggling like a kid at a fair.

“Are we really doing this?” she asked, holding a nugget like it was radioactive.

“We’re winning this,” you replied, cracking your neck. “Open wide.”

Across the pitch, Leah already looked stressed.

“Lucy, please, I’m begging you,” she muttered, watching as Lucy popped another nugget into her mouth before the game even started.

“I’m hungry!” Lucy defended through a mouthful of food. “They’re warm! I’m not wasting good nuggets on throwing!”

“You’re supposed to throw them!”

Lucy shrugged. “That’s not who I am as a person.”

Sarina stepped between the teams with her clipboard and whistle. She looked like she was reconsidering every choice that led her to this moment.

“Okay,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Rules. Each team has one tosser and one catcher. You get one point per successful mouth catch. Thirty seconds. No stepping over the cone. No spitting nuggets at the referee.”

Everyone looked at Georgia.

Georgia held up her hands. “That happened once.”

“Teams ready?”

“Born ready!” you shouted.

Leah glared at you. “You’re gonna choke on a nugget and I’m not helping you.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re invited to my funeral.”

“BEGIN!”

You launched your first nugget with surgical precision. Grace, bless her sweet soul, actually caught it with a startled yelp.

“ONE POINT!” Sarina called out, looking shocked.

Across the way, Lucy hurled a nugget so wildly it hit the side of Leah’s head.

“LUCY!”

“Oops.”

You threw your second. Grace fumbled it, but caught it on the bounce with her mouth and a squeal.

“Two points!” Sarina called.

Leah was now holding her arms out like a crossbar, fully bracing herself. “Try again. Aim low.”

Lucy tossed underhand this time, and Leah caught it… with her eye.

“OW! LUCY, THAT WAS A MEAT MISSILE!”

Meanwhile, you were on fire. Every toss was perfect. Grace caught one mid-laugh. One with her hands behind her back. One while spinning for no reason.

“Team Sunny is on SEVEN!” Sarina shouted, now genuinely enjoying herself.

Leah had caught one. Lucy had eaten five.

“I don’t even care if we lose,” Lucy said, chewing blissfully. “These are amazing. Compliments to the chef.”

“YOU ARE THE WORST TEAMMATE,” Leah bellowed, snatching the nugget bucket out of Lucy’s hands and tossing it behind her.

“Did you just THROW OUR AMMO?!” Lucy gasped.

Ella screamed from the sidelines, “YOU DON’T TOSS THE NUGGETS UNTIL YOU’RE READY TO WIN, LUCY!”

You wiped a fake tear. “It’s like watching a breakup in real time.”

Grace nearly fell over laughing.

“TEN SECONDS!” Sarina yelled.

You locked eyes with Grace. “Let’s go out with a bang!”

You tossed. She caught. Boom. You tossed again. It bounced off her nose, but she caught it on the rebound. Screams from the sideline.

Final toss. It flew like an arc of golden-battered glory. Grace caught it clean.

“AND THAT’S TIME!” Sarina blew her whistle.

Team Sunny: 10

Team Leah: 1

Lucy: 7 nuggets in her stomach, zero regrets

You and Grace celebrated like you’d won the Champions League. You jumped into her arms. She almost dropped you. Ella threw ketchup packets like confetti. Alessia was doubled over laughing.

Across the way, Leah dropped to her knees. “I hate chicken nuggets.”

Lucy patted her shoulder. “Don’t be mad. I’m full and happy. That’s what matters.”

Leah stared at her. “This is war. And you’re a double agent.”

Lucy smirked. “War tastes like poultry.”

Sarina marked another tally on the board. “Team Sunny leads two to zero.”

You blew Leah a kiss. “Better luck next time, Captain.”

She flipped you off without a word.

You grinned. The war was going very well.

There were many things the FA training facility was known for. World-class pitches. Premier rehab rooms. Tactical planning spaces.

It was not known for roller sports.

So naturally, it became the perfect arena for the next round of Williamson War.

The hallway, long, echoey, with fluorescent lighting that made everyone look like they were in a 2002 crime drama, was quickly turned into a battleground.

Traffic cones marked the boundaries. The vending machines at the far end stood ominously. Staff had been cleared from the area after someone (Georgia) sent out a mass text that read: “Clear the hallway. Death on wheels incoming.”

Ella and Alessia, once again, had their filming setup in full effect.

“Welcome back to WarWatch,” Ella whispered into her fake mic. “This episode: bruises, betrayal, and a coach casualty.”

You stood in your borrowed roller skates (which may or may not have been two sizes too big), adjusting your knee pads like this was life or death. Grace stood behind you with a water bottle and nervous laughter.

“I don’t know how to skate,” Grace muttered.

“Just pretend you’re escaping your childhood,” you replied, eyes narrowed.

Meanwhile, Leah was tying her laces like she was about to compete in the Olympics. She had that scary focused look—the kind she got before important matches or when someone took the last Yorkshire Gold tea bag.

“She’s fully in her villain arc,” Beth said, munching on popcorn from the sidelines.

Lucy was skating in little circles and nearly took out Keira twice. Georgia had been banned from the warm-up lap after trying to shoulder-check Alessia “as a test.”

Sarina stood at the starting line, clipboard in hand. Somehow, she had agreed to referee this again. Maybe she liked the chaos. Maybe she wanted a raise.

“All right,” Sarina sighed. “First to complete three laps of the hallway wins. No biting. No dragging your teammate by the ponytail. No crashing into staff—”

She paused. Looked at you directly.

You looked away innocently. “I’m an angel.”

Sarina didn’t look convinced.

“Three!” Sarina shouted.

“Two!”

Lucy screamed, “I’M GONNA DIE!”

“One—GO!”

Everyone took off like a bunch of wild toddlers with no center of gravity. Grace immediately screamed as she wobbled to one side, took Ella out like a bowling pin, and somehow ended up riding on Alessia’s back.

You managed to stay upright and build speed. The hallway zoomed by in a blur of polished floors, motivational posters, and confused physios peeking out of doors.

Leah—competitive demon that she is—skated like she’d been born on wheels. She was elbows out, teeth gritted, muttering under her breath like, “I will NOT lose to that child.”

You rounded the second lap and noticed the vending machine looming like a steel trap of death.

“Grace, MOVE!” you shouted.

Too late.

Grace skidded and crashed straight into the vending machine, causing a loud CLUNK and a rain of individually packaged biscuits to fall inside.

“Ow!” she cried. “But also… snacks.”

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie!” Ella called out from behind the camera.

Meanwhile, Lucy was skating backwards for no reason and rambling, “This is so much harder than Ibiza roller disco.”

“Focus, Lucy!” Leah shouted, speeding past her.

“Don’t tell me how to live!”

You pushed forward, legs burning, determined to cut off Leah at the final turn.

But just as you were rounding the last lap, a shadow appeared in front of you.

“Sarina?!”

She had stepped slightly into the hallway, checking her clipboard—at exactly the wrong moment.

“OH NO—” you shouted.

WHAM.

You collided full-speed into her, both of you tumbling to the ground. Her whistle flew through the air like a tiny sad rocket.

Gasps. Screams. Laughter. The sound of a vending machine spitting out one last KitKat.

“ARE YOU OKAY?!” you yelled, untangling yourself from her legs.

Sarina, flat on her back, blinked at the ceiling. “I see God.”

“‘He impressed?” you wheezed.

“No.”

Yet, Leah did not stop skating. Even as her team called out, “Leah, the coach is down!” Even as you lay there dramatically flopped over Sarina’s legs like a Victorian ghost.

Leah zoomed through her final lap, arms pumping, a single focus in her eyes: victory.

She skidded to a stop at the finish line, fists in the air.

“YES! I WON!” she yelled, chest heaving.

Lucy rolled up behind her. “Wait. Didn’t Sunny take out Sarina?”

Everyone turned to the coach.

Sarina raised one weary hand from the floor and wheezed, “I call… disqualification… for vehicular assault.”

You face-planted into the hallway floor in shame.

Grace, still trapped behind the vending machine, yelled, “It was worth it!”

FINAL SCORE

Team Sunny: 2

Team Leah: 1

Lucy helped Sarina up, only to nearly trip again. Ella zoomed in on Sarina’s unimpressed face. Alessia whispered, “This is so going in the team slideshow.”

Leah glared at you. “This isn’t over.”

You wiped dust off your knee pad. “It’s okay. I hear concussing the coach is trendy now.”

Sarina looked at both of you. “Next person to touch me on wheels runs laps for a month.”

The hallway was silent. Then Lucy whispered, “…Can I keep the skates?”

The final challenge had the atmosphere of a World Cup final—if that final involved cones, handstands, and deeply questionable strategy.

The pitch was sectioned off with plastic cones in a zigzagging maze. The only way to make it through? One person walks while a partner signed directions in British Sign Language (BSL). Then the navigator tagged the last teammate, who had to walk in a handstand across the finish line. But to make things interesting navigators had to wear giant, vision-warping, gag-store glasses. Imagine Elton John meets funhouse mirror.

“They look like cartoon flies,” Beth snorted as you and Leah strapped on your ridiculous eyewear.

Ella zoomed in with her phone.

“This is the highest level of football camp. Professionals. International caps. And they’re dressed like Pixar side characters.”

This was the Williamson War Final Showdown, and nothing had ever been more unserious yet more important.

Alessia pressed record on her phone.

“Ladies and gentlefolk, we bring you the dramatic conclusion of the dumbest series of competitions this camp has ever seen.”

She panned to the cone maze. “Obstacle course built by chaos. Starring: slightly concussed athletes and a very exhausted Sarina.”

Sarina, wearing a visor and sipping black coffee like it was tequila, gave a long-suffering sigh. “On my whistle. First team to cross the finish wins. You all know the rules. I can’t believe I have to say them out loud.”

Tooney leaned toward the camera. “You just know she’s texting the FA board like, ‘pls send help.’”

Leah is blinded. Keira signs. Georgia is warming up by walking on her hands like it’s casual.

Leah stood at the starting line, hands on hips. “Keira, if I run into something—”

“You will,” Keira replied. “Let’s just accept it now.”

“Confidence boost: zero,” Leah muttered and adjusted her glasses, blinking hard.

“Everything looks… bendy.”

“That’s the point,” Keira replied, cracking her knuckles dramatically. “Follow my lead.”

“Just don’t sign ‘yeet yourself into a cone,’ okay?”

Georgia stood near the finish line, stretching out her wrists like she was about to perform at Cirque du Soleil.

Sarina raised her whistle. “Ready… go!”

Leah started off confidently. Then took one wobbly step, panicked, and immediately bumped into a cone.

“Oh my GOD, she’s down already,” Tooney cackled.

“No, no, I’ve got this,” Leah huffed, reorienting herself. “Keira, sign clearer!”

“You need to look with your eyes,” Keira signed dramatically.

“I’M TRYING BUT EVERYTHING LOOKS LIKE A MINECRAFT TEXTURE PACK.”

Despite it all, Leah somehow recovered. She started speed-walking through the cones like someone trying to power-walk away from a breakup.

Beth, eating crisps, muttered, “She’s terrifying when she’s determined.”

Keira was signing wildly now, turn, side step, forward, and Leah was locked in.

She tagged Georgia with flair.

Georgia popped up into a handstand like it was nothing. Everyone on the sidelines gasped. Someone (probably Grace) fainted.

She cartwheeled once, balanced perfectly, and began walking on her hands toward the line.

“She’s floating,” Aggie whispered, eyes wide.

Alessia said into the mic, “If you told me she was built in a lab, I’d believe it.”

Georgia crossed the line and flipped onto her feet, posing like an Olympic gymnast.

Sarina blew the whistle.

Team Leah: 1 minute, 50 seconds.

The girls cheered. Leah whipped off her glasses dramatically and threw them to the floor.

“Beat that, gremlin,” she said, pointing at you.

You stood at the start line with a tight jaw, arms crossed, bouncing on your toes.

From the sidelines, Alessia zoomed in. “Here we have Sunny, notoriously feral, about to trust someone else for once in her life.”

Tooney snorted. “Growth moment.”

You were bouncing on your toes in your own enormous bug-eyed glasses. “These make me feel like I’m in an aquarium.”

“You look like you live in one,” Leah muttered.

You ignored her and turned to Khiara. “Are you ready?”

“Born ready,” Khiara grinned. “Don’t get lost or I’m never letting you live it down.”

Michelle cracked her knuckles at the finish line. “I’ve been practicing this since Year 6 PE. Let’s go.”

Sarina blew her whistle. “Go!”

You squinted. The cones were blurry blobs. The maze looked like a video game from 2004.

But you trusted Khiara.

She started signing, “Right. Small step. Now straight. Side step.”

You nodded and followed her lead—carefully, precisely, only nearly tripping once.

Ella whispered to the camera, “She’s serious. This is prime goblin mode discipline.”

Then you stepped over a cone so smoothly that Keira clutched her chest like a proud mum.

Aggie yelled, “She’s doing the stanky leg, but like… on purpose!”

You reached Michelle and tagged her. “Your turn. Don’t mess this up!”

Michelle grinned. “Watch and learn.”

She flipped into a handstand like it was her natural form and walked forward with zero fear.

The crowd roared. Grace fanned herself. Lucy burst into spontaneous applause.

“Look at the control!” Aggie screamed.

Alessia screamed, “LOOK AT HER GO! SHE’S GRAVITY DEFYING! NASA’S JEALOUS!”

Michelle wobbled once, corrected, and then gracefully, crossed the finish line.

Tooney dropped her phone. “WE’VE BEEN SERVED.”

Sarina blew the whistle. “Team Sunny: 1 minute, 38 seconds. Team Sunny wins the Williamson War of 2025.”

You tore off your glasses and fist-pumped the air.

Leah dropped to her knees. “AGAIN?!”

“Victory is mine,” you whispered, grabbing the cone you tripped over and holding it like a trophy.

“Cone of destiny.”

Georgia clapped her on the back. “You were robbed.”

Lucy handed Leah a chicken nugget. “For your pain.”

Sarina walked off the field muttering, “I’m too old for this.”

Tooney wrapped things up. “That concludes the 2025 Williamson War. Final score—Team Sunny: 3, Team Leah: 1, Team Sarina: emotionally destroyed.”

Alessia added, “We now return to regularly scheduled Lioness programming… until next time.”

You looked at Leah, smug. “I already know your punishment.”

The punishment had been decided unanimously, quickly, and with diabolical precision. No polar plunges. No public serenades. No forfeiting dessert.

Leah had to call Amanda Williamson. Her mum. The original referee of the Williamson Wars. Also known as Sunny’s biggest fan and number one defender.

Amanda had banned Williamson Wars after the infamous 2021 incident, when Leah got over-competitive and broke 12-year-old Sunny’s wrist during a three-legged race on uneven grass.

Amanda had said, verbatim: “I see one more ‘War’ and you’ll be lucky if I let you lead a prayer circle, let alone a football team.”

So naturally, you freshly victorious and high on glory (and sugar), picked that as the punishment.

Back in your shared room, Leah sat at the edge of her bed, phone in hand, looking like she was waiting to be executed.

You were sprawled dramatically across your bed, slurping a Caprisun through a neon curly straw you’d brought “for the aesthetic.”

“Do I have to?” Leah groaned, already dialing.

“Yes,” you replied gleefully, leaning back against your pillow fortress. “Tell her everything. Start with, ‘Hi Mum, it’s your disappointment child.’”

Leah glared at you. “I should’ve made you eat peas as your punishment.”

“You tried. I won. Now call Mother Amanda, peasant.”

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

“Leah Cathrine Williamson.” Amanda didn’t even say hello. Her voice came through stern, crisp, and full of maternal judgment.

You snorted so hard you almost choked on your juice pouch.

“H-hi Mum,” Leah said, already wincing.

“Oh, don’t ‘hi Mum’ me. What did you do?”

Leah threw a hand in the air. “Why do you always assume I did something?!”

“Because whenever I get a call right after training, someone’s either injured, traumatized, or missing an eyebrow. Now speak.”

Leah groaned. “It was a Williamson War, okay? But like—low stakes. Mostly cones.”

Dead. Silence. Then Amanda exhaled. The kind of sigh that said ‘I carried you for nine months and this is how you repay me?’

“You what?”

“Technically Sunny participated too—”

You waved from your bed. “Hi Mum Amanda! I won!”

Amanda’s voice shifted instantly. “Oh, hi sweetheart! I’m so proud of you, my little champion! Did she feed you today?”

“Three times,” you said. “Plus a CapriSun.”

“Good girl. Now back to Leah—YOU STARTED ANOTHER WAR?!”

Leah groaned. “It was joint custody chaos! The kids needed entertainment!”

Amanda was not amused. “I banned Williamson Wars after you broke her wrist. BROKE. HER. WRIST.”

“It healed!” Leah said weakly. “Now it’s like a superhero wrist!”

“Leah Cathrine, I ought to fly there myself and drag you into retirement.”

You dramatically fake-gasped from the bed. “Tell her about the vending machine crash!”

“I will hit you,” Leah hissed.

Amanda did not miss a beat. “What vending machine crash?”

“She hit Sarina,” you whispered into the phone.

“WHAT?!”

“It was an accident!” Leah cried. “And Sarina lived! She walked it off!”

“You’re lucky she walked it off! I told you, no more Wars! And now you’re back at camp with the team acting like Wile E. Coyote on wheels!”

You collapsed in laughter. Leah had her face in her hands.

Amanda continued, not letting up for a second.

“I should call Sarina myself. Apologize on your behalf. And you”—she paused for dramatic effect—“are on punishment.”

Leah blinked. “I’m 28 years old.”

“You’re never too old for consequences. You are banned from leading anything, including lunch lines, until further notice.”

You applauded from your bed. “I’d like to submit a motion for a five-year ban on Williamson Wars.”

“Seconded,” Amanda said.

“Mum!” Leah whined.

“You’re lucky she’s not asking for a CPS case. Sunny is basically yours.”

You grinned. “Leah is my legal guardian.”

“I knew it,” Amanda muttered. “Should’ve tied her to a bench in 2020.”

Leah tossed her phone on the bed and fell back with a groan.

You picked it up sweetly. “Love you, Amanda!”

“Love you, darling. Keep her in line.”

“Always,” you replied with a salute, then ended the call.

Leah stared at the ceiling. “I should’ve just let you drink my tea back in 2017.”

You smiled, sipping the last of your juice. “I’m so glad you didn’t.”

[holyblonded]

can we get more of sunny being savage towards everyone and her teammates trying (and failing) to control her? in my mind, irene constantly puts her in timeout like mateo

— sunny gets benched during a training scrimmage for goofing off after meg’ing patri twice in a row and then hitting her with “your ankles okay or should i get the physio?”

— “timeout,” irene shook her head. “that’s not a real thing.” “it is when you’re involved.”

— irene has a dedicated timeout spot on the bench next to the cones with a laminated sign that says “SUNNY’S CORNER”

— sunny put stickers on it. one of them says “menace 4 life” and one that’s the sun with sunglasses on

— she has her own cone. her name is sharpied on the side.

— she autographs it after every major incident

— she was once caught talking to an opponent mid-match in sign just to distract them

— pina tilts her head, “is she trash-talking in BSL?”

— alexia, sighing, “yeah. we’re working on it.”

— alexia tried to sit her down for a heart-to-heart about being a role model

— sunny blinked, nodded, then walked away and immediately told salma, “i’m her favorite and she doesn’t know what to do about it.”

— salma laughs, “you are so unserious.”

— sunny shrugs, “but i’m not wrong.”

— during a team dinner, sunny asked if the chicken was free-range and when told no, she loudly said, “so we’re supporting oppression. wow. okay.”

— cata started choking from laughter

— irene looked like she aged 10 years

— irene once caught her sneaking cookies out of the training center kitchen

— “you can’t eat that before a fitness session.”

— “watch me.”

— she ate it while staring irene in the eye

— timeout. again.

— sunny knows exactly how far she can push before she gets benched

— and she plays on that line like it’s her primary position

— “she’s chaos in boots,” ona mutters. “pure, beautiful chaos.”

— and every time she scores, she blows kisses to the bench

— where irene is shaking her head… and clapping

[holyblonded]

can we get more hc of stern olga? maybe the girls dont listen to alexia all day but olga barely says anything and they shape up.

— it starts with alexia trying to get the house in order. she’s been asking nicely all day. “estrella, please pick up your shoes.” “azulita, no skateboarding in the hallway.” “valerie, we don’t draw on the fridge.” none of them are listening. estrella’s got her headphones in, azulita’s upside down on the couch doing nothing productive, and val is coloring a masterpiece on the lower freezer drawer

— alexia tries to hold it together. she really does. she starts threatening them with laps. estrella rolls her eyes. azulita mutters “you don’t scare me.” val just smiles and says “i love you papa,” which completely derails alexia because now she’s laughing while still trying to be mad

— they ignore her again during lunch. alexia reminds them to put their dishes away, estrella gets up but forgets halfway and starts doing kick-ups in the living room. azulita throws a grape at her and starts a mini war. val is singing the paw patrol theme and flinging rice at the wall

— alexia stands there like she’s this close to a breakdown. she mutters, “i’m going to the bathroom and when i come back i want this cleaned up or i swear i will—”

— and then the front door opens. silence.

— olga walks in holding a grocery bag and sunglasses still on. she doesn’t say a word. she scans the kitchen, sees the rice, the dishes, estrella’s cleats on the stairs, azulita’s hoodie on the chandelier (??), and val walking around with a permanent marker

— she sets the bag down slowly. takes off her glasses. and says, dead quiet, “what. is this.”

— estrella freezes mid-step. azulita straightens up like she’s in the army. val drops the marker and whispers “uh oh.”

— alexia returns to the kitchen to find all three girls speed-cleaning like their lives depend on it. estrella is scrubbing the fridge, azulita’s folding laundry that doesn’t even belong to her, even val is wiping the floor with baby wipes (to the best of her ability.) no one is speaking

— olga doesn’t yell. doesn’t raise her voice. she just starts prepping lunch, calmly slicing vegetables, and occasionally giving one of them the look. that tight-lipped, disappointed, scary mom stare that could shut down a riot

— estrella bumps into azulita trying to grab the broom and whispers “you got us killed.” azulita hisses back “you started the grape war.” val is crying because “mami’s mad at me” and alexia is like “you see how fast they move when it’s you??”

— when everything is finally clean, olga sits down at the table. she takes one sip of her water, raises an eyebrow, and says, “better.” that’s all

— for the rest of the day, the girls are on their best behavior. estrella even offers to help with dinner. azulita folds napkins into swans. val is reading books and whispering her ABCs. alexia is lounging on the couch like she just won a war without lifting a finger

— that night in bed, olga is like “i don’t know why you let them walk all over you.” alexia sighs and says “they’re cute. and annoying. and exhausting.” and olga kisses her temple and mutters, “lucky they’re ours.”

[holyblonded]

May I have some Netflix recommendations please because why CNA I find nothing*

😛🇮🇪

okay it might be different cause i know netflix is different based on the region. also i use netflix the least so it’s literally just things I’ve watched recently

straw, how i met your mother, brooklyn 99, forever, vince staples show, and adolescence

[holyblonded]

Heyyyy hope you’re okay!!!

could we please have some olga and estrella hcs of when olga is upset and estrella is comforting her and trying to cheer her up? i’ve just re read other mother for the 18 millionth time and i just love how sweet and protective she is of olga :)

— when olga’s upset, estrella picks up on it fast. like, sixth sense fast. even if olga’s pretending to be fine, estrella’s eyes narrow the second she hears a slightly too-long pause or catches the faintest crack in her voice

— “you good?” she asks once, but she doesn’t push. instead, she quietly follows her around the house like a shadow. bumping her shoulder gently. grabbing her hand without saying a word. just staying close

— if olga still won’t talk, estrella starts operation cheer-up. it starts with her slipping into olga’s room with a ridiculous outfit. a feather boa, sunglasses, one of alexia’s old blazers three sizes too big and dramatically announcing, “the real housewives of barcelona has arrived”

— when that doesn’t get a laugh, she changes tactics. she climbs into bed next to olga, doesn’t say anything at first. just lays there beside her and gently nudges her head onto her shoulder. “i’m not moving ‘til you smile. we’ll rot together if we have to”

— she starts humming softly, just some silly tune she made up, tapping her fingers rhythmically on olga’s arm until olga finally exhales one of those quiet, reluctant chuckles

— if she knows why olga’s upset, like a fight with a family member, or a stressful work situation, estrella gets protective real quick. “who do i gotta fight?” she says, half-joking, half-not. “just say the word. i got hands and a free schedule”

— sometimes, she brings olga little things. a single gummy bear on a napkin with a note that says “emotional support bear.” a horribly drawn doodle of the two of them with giant heads and tiny stick bodies labeled “ur fav people <3”

— if olga starts crying, estrella holds her so, so gently. pulls her into her lap, wraps her arms around her, rests her cheek on top of her head. whispers, “i got you. i got you, mamita. you don’t ever gotta be strong with me”

— and when the tears slow, estrella starts listing reasons why olga is her favorite person. “you make the best eggs. you always smell like lavender. you have really nice elbows, which is weird, but true. and you’re mine. you’re my olga. and no one gets to dim that”

— she always ends it with forehead kisses. one. two. three. like sealing a promise. and olga finally breathes easier, wrapped up in the chaotic, fierce, protective love of her kid who would set the whole world on fire just to make her laugh again

[holyblonded]

Heyy, I've got two kind of connected headcannons for azulita.

You mentioned that she really enjoys and feels music and that it's some kind of safe space to her.

So i can really imagine that she likes communicating with songs and also understands peoples feelings better if they connect it to a song.

So maybe she started singing to sydney a bit, either some song snippets of songs she likes that describe how she feels about her or also self written songs. And then at some point syd realises that this is a way she can communicate with azulita better and just make her feelings more understandable and more related because for azulita music carries messages better than anything else.

Connected to that i could maybe see azulita enjoying sleep token even if it might not be her normal genre (idk if you're familiar with the band, but i can rly recommend them). But i think she would probably fuck with their genre blend (pop, jazz, gospel, hip hop and rock /metal influences) and their special instrumentals as well as with their well written lyrics. Sleep token songs often have so many layers you can unpack, the lyrics are written in beautiful metaphors and deeply emotional and in addition to that they are underlined by creative, powerful instrumentals with many contrasts.

So i can maybe see syd sending her a song like "are you really okay" or "provider" and azulita is just completely stunned by all the different layers of the song, then starts analysing lyrics and instrumentals falling deep into the sleep token rabbit hole (like I did too)

If you're not familiar with the band and maybe wanna get into it i can recommend gethsemane, blood sport, are you really okay, euclid, the love you want, damocles and the night does not belong to god because those are nice songs to start out with and not be instantly rejected by some heavier metal parts in some songs :)

Also if you don't like the second part of this ask with the sleeptoken part but can relate to the first headcannon feel free to just ignore my sleep token fangirling and only focus on the first part (if you even like that one xD)

Take care and keep on writing, I love your creativity and the way you make me fall in love with fictional characters :)

oh this is so azulita-coded.

the thing about azulita is she doesn’t always have the right words. not because she doesn’t feel deeply, but because language sometimes feels like this stiff, clumsy thing that can’t keep up with how fast and messy and full her heart gets. she’s a storm of emotion, but her vocabulary for explaining that storm… not always there. not in the ways that people expect, at least.

but music? music gets it. she doesn’t need to think through a sentence when a verse already says it better. she doesn’t have to decode her feelings when a guitar riff or a drop or a scratch in a vocal makes her chest ache exactly the way she feels. music has always been her native language—even when she was too afraid to talk, even when she felt like no one was listening, even when the world felt too loud or too cold or too fake, songs gave her a place to be.

so yeah, it starts small. syd’s scrolling on her phone, and azulita’s got her guitar, noodling around. and suddenly she hums something low—“baby, you my everything, you all I ever wanted…” and then she shrugs like it’s nothing, like she wasn’t just quoting Take Care and looking at sydney with eyes soft enough to undo a person.

sydney freezes. “was that—”

“don’t worry about it,” azul mutters, cheeks going pink.

but syd does worry about it. she starts noticing the pattern. how azulita will drop song lyrics into conversations instead of saying how she’s feeling. how she’ll leave her phone unlocked on a spotify screen, some moody, bittersweet track—and it’s clearly on purpose. how she’ll send syd a link and just say this is me today, instead of typing out anything else.

it becomes their secret language. when azulita doesn’t have the words, she finds the melody. and when sydney doesn’t know how to comfort her, she finds a song.

enter: sleep token. maybe syd finds them first, late night scrolling after azulita has shut down one too many times. she’s trying to understand, trying to figure out how to meet azul where she is. and she stumbles across “Are You Really Okay?” and suddenly she feels like someone cracked her chest open.

because it is azulita. it’s the question behind her silence. the ache behind the bite. the hope that hides in her snark. the pain she’s too proud to speak aloud.

so syd sends it. no caption. no explanation.

azulita listens. then she listens again. and again. the sound design is sick—like literally, she texts syd “yo who produced this this goes dumb”—but it’s the lyrics that gut her. the kind of raw, poetic storytelling that sneaks up on you and rips your heart out, but you thank it for doing so. it’s vulnerable, messy, sharp. it sounds like truth. it sounds like her.

from there, it spirals. sydgives her “Euclid” after one of azul’s worst anger episodes. azul responds with “Blood Sport” when she can’t say I love you but wants syd to know.

syd sends “The Night Does Not Belong to God” the day before a match when azul’s anxious and can’t sleep. azul sings “The Love You Want” into syd’s neck during a lazy morning cuddle. she starts writing her own songs again, too. not to share—at first. just to get things out. but sometimes syd catches her humming them. sometimes she lets her listen. once, syd finds a lyric in azulita’s notebook that just reads, “you didn’t save me. but you stayed. and that saved me.” and syd doesn’t say anything. just kisses her forehead and holds her a little tighter.

their relationship becomes part mixtape, part love letter, part emotional excavation.

azulita still gets overwhelmed. still shuts down. still struggles to talk. but now syd knows the songs that pull her back.

and azulita? she finally realizes that her voice, her real voice, isn’t just in the words she avoids. it’s in every note she hums when she’s brave enough to feel out loud.

and syd? syd listens. every time.

[holyblonded]

can we please get a hc of when olga is upset and alexia is not near so azulita and estrellas try everything to make her happy?

— i am so sorry i had no idea how i missed this ask 💔

— olga’s been having a rough day. one of her events got delayed, the client was rude, val spilled juice on her laptop earlier, and now alexia’s stuck in meetings and can’t come home. she’s trying to power through it but estrella sees the way she sighed after hanging up the phone and azulita noticed she didn’t even scold them for leaving the fridge open for too long

— estrella immediately goes into “fix it” mode. she marches into the kitchen like she’s about to cook olga a three-course meal. unfortunately, she only knows how to make cereal, but she presents it with a flourish and tells olga it’s “a sensory gourmet crunch experience”

— azulita doesn’t say anything at first. she just disappears and comes back with olga’s comfiest hoodie and val’s favorite stuffed toy. she places both gently in olga’s lap and then awkwardly mumbles “we didn’t know what you needed so… maybe this helps?”

— olga just stares at them like… what is happening

— then estrella claps her hands and says “spa day!” and before olga can say no, they’re dragging her to the couch and putting a terrible homemade face mask on her that smells suspiciously like strawberries and conditioner

— azulita puts cucumber slices on olga’s eyes but forgets to tell her she didn’t wash them. olga’s like “why does it sting” and estrella runs to google “can you be allergic to cucumber??”

— when olga insists she needs to check her email, azulita just silently places her laptop out of reach and estrella distracts her by playing val’s favorite movie and saying “don’t you want to bond with us like a real family”

— eventually olga gives in. she’s still tired and stressed, but azulita is braiding her hair with incredible focus and estrella is painting her nails the worst shade of neon green imaginable and saying “it’s camp, it’s bold, you’re giving frog-core” and olga… kind of starts laughing

— when alexia finally comes home, she walks in to find olga wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, hair in braids, face mask half-dried, neon nails flashing as she holds a juice pouch while her two chaotic teens proudly present her with a glittery sign that says “WE LOVE OLGA EVEN IF SHE’S GRUMPY 💖”

— olga just sighs and says “you’re lucky you’re cute” and alexia kisses her forehead and whispers “don’t worry, they’re your problem tonight” before dragging estrella away by the hoodie to make her clean up the cereal explosion in the kitchen

— olga ends the night actually smiling, curled up on the couch with azulita asleep on one side, estrella on the other, and alexia bringing her a cup of tea like “see? our kids are good for something after all”

[holyblonded]

took the dub at natty’s y’all 👻👻

i will be back on the hc grind tomorrow and expect a new fic 💪🏾

[holyblonded]

Legally binding - Part 4

Summary: Alexia Putellas didn’t plan to become anyone’s legal guardian. But a very determined 12-year-old with a forged Barça contract has other ideas—and she’s already moved in.

Warnings: Y/n is anxiously attached to Alexia; Alexia still thinks she can't be a mom, although Y/n already feels like a daughter; plus, Alexia's mom finding out about the adoption.

Word count: 5.2k

..

Alexia had hoped Y/n's first day at her new school would start with a shiny and beautiful morning. She hoped that the girl would listen to the sounds of the Puput flying from tree to tree would bring her some sort of comfort.

But that was not what happened.

When Alexia woke up at 6 am, thirty minutes earlier than her usual, now that she had a new routine of dropping the kid off at school, she already knew it was going to be a hard day. The clouds in the sky were grey, the rain was intense, and the air was way colder than what the TV guy said it would be.

Alexia moved her eyes from the window of her room to the other side of the bed. She knew the kid would be there.

It had been one week since Y/n showed up at Alexia's house, and somehow, they had already found themselves in a well-known routine. Alexia would tuck her in at night, leave the light on and the door open, because she was scared of the dark, but it wouldn't matter because the kid would always end up in Alexia's bed in the middle of the night.

She was sneaky, she never woke Alexia up. She was very quiet whenever she opened Alexia's door and moved to her bed. Now she wasn't sleeping on the edge of the bed at least. Alexia had told her to sleep closer, afraid the kid would fall face-first onto the hardwood floor.

Alexia propped herself up on her elbows and looked at the girl, sleeping so peacefully, which made her hesitate to wake her. She would give the girl a few more minutes to sleep.

Very carefully, Alexia got off the bed and went to her wardrobe. She picked her clothes for the day and got her training bag ready. After that, she went to Y/n's room and picked her uniform for her, it was simple: a white button-up shirt, a straight red skirt and a blazer.

Alexia laid them up in her bed and took the Mary Jane shoes she had tucked in the corner of her room, and also placed them on the mattress. She would look cute in it, Alexia was sure.

Then Alexia got her backpack and checked to see if she had everything Y/n needed. Her textbooks were there, notebooks, her pencil case, all checked.

The next stop was the kitchen. Alexia took the new lunchbox she had bought just a few days ago and filled it with food, not wanting the kid to go hungry. She put one banana, then four chopped strawberries, on the side. She also added two sandwiches and then another banana just to be sure.

She filled the girl's water bottle before taking one Gatorade from the freezer, because what if she needed some electrolytes?

Okay, everything was good, everything was in perfect order.

Now she just needed to wake Y/n up.

Although when she went to her bedroom, the kid wasn't in her normal place by the bed. Alexia looked at the door to her bathroom and saw that it was closed; the kid was probably there.

She would really have to talk to her about using her own bathroom.

Alexia knocked on the door and didn't wait for the kid to answer.

"Hey! Brush your teeth, get your hair ready, alright? Your uniform is ready on your bed, and your backpack is too. When you're done, come to the kitchen to have breakfast, we can't be late!"

The only answer she got was a grumble behind the door. Alexia smiled. Good, she was alive and responsive!

..

Alexia went back to the kitchen, now on breakfast duties. She was going to make the usual omelette she always did, but she changed her mind and decided to change things up a bit, so she made some pancakes.

It was the kid's first day at her new school, or well, at any school, she deserved something nice. The only problem was: Alexia realised she was completely helpless at making pancakes.

She mixed the batter and poured the first one into the pan. The pancake looked nothing like the perfect circles her mom used to make.

"Well, that's…creative," she muttered to herself, staring at the weird-shaped pancake.

She tried again, and the second pancake turned out even worse. By the third attempt, Alexia gave up. The pancakes looked bad.

The sound of small feet in the kitchen made her turn.

Y/n stood in the doorway, her white button-up shirt was untucked, and her hair was absolutely a mess. "Hi," the kid said, staring at Alexia, then at the stove. "What are you doing?"

"I tried to make pancakes," Alexia murmured. "To commemorate your first day of school."

The kid took a step closer to where Alexia was, looking at the pancake. "Oh, was it supposed to make me feel good?"

"You should be happy that I'm at least trying," Alexia said.

"Hmm, I guess we all are," the kid said before turning around and taking the plates to set the table.

She was weirdly quiet.

Usually, Y/n woke up talking a lot, saying how her dreams were, asking a million questions. It drove Alexia crazy most mornings because she needed at least two cups of coffee before she felt ready to even open her mouth. But now the silence felt worse. The kid wasn't even grumpy. She was just...quiet. That worried Alexia more than anything, she didn't like it one bit.

Alexia knew the reason; she didn't want to go to school, but she couldn't think of anything else she could do to make the kid a little happier. Maybe Y/n just had to just…deal with that. 

This was part of parenting, right? Letting the kids handle what they could handle and just showing them that you were there if they needed?

Not that Alexia was parenting. This was temporary. Just until Pedro sorted out the paperwork. Alexia sighed and took the plate filled with exactly three pancakes to the table.

"They look ugly, but they are good, I promise," Alexia said, putting two pancakes on Y/n's plate.

"Ugly? They look grotesque," the kid said, poking at the pancake.

"What did we talk about being mean?" Alexia asked deadpan.

"Sorry." The kid looked down and began eating.

When they were done eating, Alexia had to physically drag Y/n out of the kitchen because she wanted to do the dishes before school.

"No," Alexia said, holding the girl's arm and making her sit down on the sofa. "We need to get your hair done."

"First," the kid said, pout on her face, "it is done. Second, I like washing the dishes!"

"I know you like it," Alexia said, taking a water spray and getting the girl's hair wet, starting to detangle it. "But you'll get your uniform all wet if you do."

"I don't care," Y/n said. "This uniform is stupid anyway."

"Hey, don't say that," Alexia said as she brushed her hair. "You look cute."

"I don't like the skirt," she mumbled.

"No?"

The kid shook her head.

"Okay, I'll get you the pants, then."

The kid turned her head to Alexia, as if surprised by how fast Alexia...agreed?

"What?" Alexia asked. "I'm not the biggest fan of skirts either."

"I think this is the first thing we agreed on," the kid said, smiling at Alexia.

"I guess you're right," Alexia said.

"Okay, let's go," Alexia said, taking her training bag, a hand already on the girl's back, urging her to the door. "We can't be late, I need to be at training in thirty minutes–"

"Are you going like that?" The kid asked, staring at Alexia up and down.

"Like what?" Alexia asked, and then she realised she was still in her pyjamas, her change of clothes were on her bed, she hadn't put them on, she also hadn't brushed her teeth or her hair. She forgot to get ready, too worried about the kid.

"Fuck!" Alexia cursed, already turning back toward her room. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

"Fuck!" she heard the kid behind her as she disappeared down the hallway.

"Hey, don't say that," Alexia shouted from her room, putting her training jersey on before taking her shorts off. "Or else you will…hmm, get grounded!"

"Going to school is punishment enough," Alexia heard the girl mumble. Maybe becoming guardians unlocked some new hearing abilities.

Alexia just rolled her eyes. She was going to deal with that… later, after she brushed her teeth and looked decent enough.

..

Alexia parked right in front of the school. The kid had her backpack on her back, a strawberry umbrella in her right hand, but she looked sad.

For a moment, Alexia just wanted to abandon the school and take her to training, but of course, she couldn't. The girl needed school, and Alexia needed to train.

She had skipped training ever since the girl got to her house. She didn't want her teammates asking questions, but she also didn't have anywhere she could leave the kid, so she had to stay at home with her.

But she couldn't keep hiding her for much longer. Her own mother and sister didn't know, and they were already noticing how distant she was. They normally had one dinner a week, and Alexia had also skipped those.

The truth was, Alexia didn't know how to explain Y/n to anyone. How do you tell people you have taken in a kid you barely know? How do you explain that you're already getting attached when you're planning to give her back?

Because that was still the plan. It had to be.

Alexia wasn't mother material, per se. She could barely take care of herself most days, living on protein bars and whatever takeout was closest to the training ground. She had never changed a diaper, never helped with homework, never tucked anyone into bed before Y/n.

She was thirty-one and at the peak of her career. This was supposed to be her time: Champions League, Ballon d'Or dreams, representing Spain. She could finally be herself after her ACL injury. She finally had her freedom back.

But looking at Y/n now, small and nervous, Alexia felt that familiar ache in her chest. The same one she got when she watched the kid sleep, or when Y/n laughed at something stupid on TV (because yes, Alexia her taught her how to use it and the kid was making the most of it), or when she automatically reached for Alexia's hand while crossing the street.

Now with school, Alexia would be able to go to training during the morning and part of the afternoon. She could get some work done, maybe go to brunch with her mom, go to a cafe with Alba, and slowly get her life back.

But either way, she couldn't hide a whole human being, her human being, from the most important people in her life.

Alexia sighed and looked at the rearview mirror. The kid was staring out the window, looking at all the other girls who wore the same uniform as her.

The headmistress was making her way to Alexia's car. She was the one who would show the kid around. Alexia, even if she was a guardian, wasn't allowed in the school except if she was called.

Alexia didn't agree with that rule, but again, she wasn't a connoisseur of Barcelona's private school rules.

"Hey," Alexia turned around to look at the girl. "You're gonna be fine, yeah? The kids are all your age, they are nice girls. I know you're going to make a lot of friends."

The kid looked at Alexia, seeming a bit unsure. "What if they are mean?"

Alexia was silent. She didn't know what to say.

She hadn't considered the kids being mean to Y/n because... Y/n was a cool kid. Who would be mean to her? She was funny, sweet, and yeah, very stubborn, but kids liked stubborn.

"They won't," Alexia said, with fake confidence, but trying to sound calm for Y/n. "But if they do, you just tell me, yeah? And I'll come here and talk to them."

"I really don't wanna go, Ale," the kid said, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. "I wanna stay with you."

That one got her. Alexia's heart ached.

Was this what her mom had felt, all those years ago, leaving her at school? It hurt.

"You need this, you need to learn things, meet new people," Alexia said gently, and then she had a brilliant idea, something she knew would make the kid agree to go in right away. "Plus, La Masia only accepts kids in the training academy if they are fully enrolled in school, so think of football, okay?"

The kid's face lit up. "Okay, but only because of La Masia."

"Now go there, the headmistress is waiting for you."

The girl opened the car door, but before stepping out, she turned back. "You'll pick me up, right? You won't leave me here?"

Alexia might cry. Maybe her period was coming. That would explain all these feelings.

"Yes, I'll be here at 2 pm, I promise."

The kid smiled brightly, as if the promise of Alexia coming back was all she needed to hear the moment she woke up.

The kid closed the car door and went to talk to the headmistress. The older woman offered her hand, and Y/n shook it, although she looked way too small.

Y/n turned to the car to wave at Alexia before entering the building.

Alexia thought she would be able to breathe once the kid wasn't in her sight, that she would feel relief, but breathing got harder, not easier.

She sat in the car for another five minutes, just staring at the school entrance, before finally driving away.

..

"La reina," Kika said, wrapping her arms around Alexia the moment she stepped into the locker room. "Romeu said you had the flu. How are you now?"

Alexia hadn't asked Romeu to lie for her, but she was glad he did. It was easier to tell everybody she was sick for a week than to tell them she spent last Thursday driving around Barcelona looking for the perfect lunchbox.

"Oh yeah... the flu!" Alexia said. "It was bad, I was very... sick."

Kika squinted her eyes. "You look weird."

"Me?" Alexia blinked. "I'm normal, what do you mean?"

"I don't know–"

They were interrupted by Pina and Patri, who walked in rather happily, excited to start the training.

"Hi Capi! How are you? We missed you!"

And just like that, the locker room filled with the other players, all of them greeted Alexia, hugging her and saying something about the flu season that was approaching.

Alexia's 'flu' had two eyes and a lot of attitude, but she wasn't about to tell them that.

One by one, the girls left for the pitch.

When Alexia stepped onto the pitch and started to run some laps, she felt at home. The endorphin running through her body was so dearly missed; it rushed in, warming her from the inside.

She was so stressed out with the whole guardian thing that she felt like she didn't have any time to actually relax the last few weeks.

For a week, all she did was worry about the kid, running errands to get everything she needed, and making sure she was okay.

But now she was Alexia again, just Alexia Putellas. She was the captain, the footballer, not... someone responsible for a kid.

And it felt good to be back.

Except her brain wouldn't shut up.

During shooting drills, she caught herself wondering if the girl had eaten lunch. And if she did, was she eating alone? She probably had made a friend or two, right?

In the middle of the penalty drill, she couldn't take it anymore. She had to go back to the locker room to check her phone and see if the school had called, because what if the kid was sick and needed to be taken to the hospital?

It was too much.

This whole ‘mom’ thing while captaining one of the best clubs in Europe was too much. That's why her lawyer needed to go through the cancellation of the guardianship quickly. 

Alexia needed her life back. And the kid needed someone who was actually capable of taking care of her, and Alexia wasn't that person. She didn’t have the right mind or the right tools to be that person.

She was already thinking about the future. 

Next week, they were going to have an away game in Madrid, and Alexia had no idea who she would leave Y/n with. 

Y/n wasn’t going to stay in Barcelona alone, and there was no one who could take her in…because no one in Alexia's life was aware Alexia had taken the kid in.

Maybe Pedro could watch her for a few days. He was her lawyer, and probably had zero experience babysitting, but Alexia trusted him.

Just one more thing for the to-do list: call Pedro and ask if he could babysit.

..

Y/n wasn't sure what to think of the school. She had never been to one before. Back at the orphanage, they had two small rooms with tables, chairs, and a whiteboard, and the nuns would take turns teaching them.

They probably did an okay job, because Y/n didn't have a hard time understanding the subjects. She aced the small test the math teacher gave them, she was always good with numbers.

Then they had to write an essay about how the Catholic religion influenced Barcelona's culture, which she also did well on because... well, she was raised in a Catholic orphanage, so she knew a thing or two.

Socialising, though, was harder.

But she tried, she took the first step and talked with some girls from her class. They were nice, but Y/n didn't have a lot in common with them; she didn't quite know what to say.

The girls talked about bands and singers Y/n had never heard of, of films Y/n didn't know existed. Maybe Alexia could help her with that.

When they asked her what she liked, Y/n just told them she liked football and drawing with crayons.

One of the girls was very sweet and told her they could colour during recess, so she didn't spend recess or lunch alone. But still, it felt off.

It was a feeling Y/n had a hard time comprehending. The school was new, but it wasn't scary or hostile. The teachers were okay, her peers were okay too, but still, she felt like the odd one out.

She wished she could go to La Masia fast enough to reconnect with her friends, Jana and Vicky. They were two years older than her, but they just... vibed. She didn't have to try hard to talk to them; it just happened.

It was the last class of the day, a science class, and the teacher was talking about the respiratory system. Y/n was really enjoying it; she could easily connect the subject with football and how hard it was to breathe when she was running. It was nice, it made sense.

Even though it was an interesting subject, the girl couldn't help but keep looking back and forth at the clock on the wall.

By 1:59, Y/n already had her backpack ready to go. When the bell rang, she was the first one out of the door.

She quickly walked out of the building and ran her eyes over the large number of cars and parents there waiting for their kids.

She couldn't find Alexia.

Y/n continued to look. She took a few steps towards the edge of the crowd of parents, trying to see more.

Nothing.

Alexia said she would be there at two. She promised.

A knot formed in Y/n's stomach. What if Alexia had decided she didn't want her anymore? What if this was it, and she was going back to the orphanage?

But then, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," Alexia said, smiling. She was wearing a Barça shirt and had sunglasses on. "Let's go. I didn't find any parking spots here and had to park a bit away, and I'm pretty sure I couldn't park there–"

Alexia barely had time to finish her sentence before the girl threw all of her body weight into her, her arms tight around her waist.

"You came," the girl whispered. "Thank you. I was scared you would leave me here."

Alexia smelled of grass and sunscreen, Y/n noticed. She had come to associate that with the feeling of being at home. She liked it.

Alexia froze for a second, then she rested a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, of course I came," Alexia said. "If I left you here, the school would call and…"

Y/n's face dropped almost immediately.

Alexia realised what she had just said and how it must have sounded.

She cleared her throat. "I mean... I came back for you," she said, softer now. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," Y/n said, barely audible, but Alexia heard it. And felt it even harder.

Alexia held the kid tighter, one hand resting awkwardly on the back of her head as she guided them to the car.

She had meant to stay a bit more distant, not make the girl grow too attached, but here she was, whispering stupid things like 'I missed you'.

..

Alexia had one hell of a day.

The kid had finished her second week of school, and Alexia had promised her that after a fortnight, if her teachers said she was able to keep up with her peers, she would sign her up for La Masia.

She was already known by the La Masia managers because of the orphanage deal, so she wouldn't have to go through all the tests they did before accepting someone in. But still, the kid needed boots and other sports gear.

Alexia had picked Y/n up after school, and she couldn't help but feel her heart aching whenever she watched the girl from afar. Before she saw Alexia, she always had an anxious expression on her face, her feet shifting around the long strap of her backpack.

Then she would see Alexia and would smile as if all the problems in the world had vanished. For her, Alexia was the resolution of everything that was wrong. For Alexia, the kid represented everything that went south.

It had been almost a month since the kid had been with Alexia. They had formed a somewhat bond, something that Alexia couldn't name, but it was there, and it was fulfilling, as well as tiring.

Alexia took a step in and waved to the girl. She came running, her backpack tumbling on her back, her water bottle almost falling. Alexia noticed the water bottle had some stickers on it–they weren't there when she had bought it. 

Cute. Maybe some friend gave them to her?

Maybe the kid would like a few more stickers. Alexia would buy them for her. Maybe Barcelona's store had stickers of Cat Culer.

They talked as they made their way to the car. Well, the kid talked, and Alexia could barely open her mouth before the kid switched from one topic to the other.

"And then he said girls shouldn't play!" the kid said from the back seat as Alexia drove to the closest Nike store.

"This boy sounds very dumb," Alexia said, rolling her eyes. "I hope you handled that with grace and showed him that girls are as strong and fast as boys."

"Actually," she said, lifting a finger up, proudly looking at Alexia in the rearview mirror, "I punched him!"

Alexia froze. She almost missed a turn.

"What?" she asked, turning to look back at the girl before realising she was driving and needed to keep her eyes ahead. "What do you mean you punched him?"

The kid's happy expression turned into a confused one, like she didn't understand why punching was wrong.

"Like... hmm, I took my hand and I–" She closed her hand into a fist, then with her left hand she made the motion forward while she kept a fist in her right close to her face, defending it. "Bang!"

"Bang?!" Alexia blinked.

"Bang!"

"Not a puff?" Alexia asked. "Like a light touch to his face?"

"No!" the kid explained. "Bang, like it made a weird sound on his face."

Alexia was sweating. She didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to say. Y/n broke a kid's nose. A very idiotic kid, but still a kid. Would Alexia be sent to jail? Could the kid's parents file something with the police against her?

"You're going to jail."

"What?!" the kid asked, horror on her face. "I'm going to jail?!"

"No!" Alexia said quickly. "Sorry, no, you are not going to jail. I got confused, didn't mean to say that."

"Oh," the kid was relieved, like Alexia's words meant the world. "For a moment, I thought I got in trouble for fighting... sexism."

"You're too young to use the word sexism," Alexia sighed. "And you ARE in trouble! You can't go around breaking people's noses!"

"But he broke a lot of laws about humans being equal!" Y/n said back. "Didn't you study it when you were at school? All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights," the girl quoted.

Now it was Alexia's turn to be confused. "What does this have to do with you punching a boy?!"

"He didn't want us girls to play football! He was fighting against our rights. We are all born with the same rights, according to the UN."

Maybe Alexia was dealing with a lawyer, a gender researcher, a human rights promoter, or a boxer with Y/n. You could never know.

They were interrupted by a phone call that rang on Alexia's touch pad in the car.

"Is that the school?" the kid asked. "They told me they would call you."

"Mierda," Alexia murmured under her breath, trying to think of what to tell the school, but the name that showed on the car was Eli…her mom.

Alexia hadn't seen her mom since the kid showed up. She didn't want her mom to know, because she would absolutely be against Alexia giving the kid back.

Alexia turned to the kid quickly and put a finger to her mouth. "Quiet," she mouthed.

Alexia accepted the call and kept driving. "Hi, Mama–"

"Alexia Putellas Segura," her mom's voice echoed through the car, and Alexia shivered.

Looking through the rearview mirror, she saw that the kid also had a scared look on her face.

"Are you crazy? Are you stupid? What happened to you? I've been calling you for weeks. Your sister has been calling you, and you always pick up, say hi, and end the call."

"Mama, I've been busy and–"

"Alexia, did I allow you to speak?"

Alexia was silent.

"That's what I thought," she said. "What kind of daughter are you? Where's my sweet Alexia, who called me every day?"

"Damn," the kid mumbled in the backseat. "You are in trouble."

"Shut up!" Alexia said to the kid.

"WHAT?!" Alexia's mom said. "What did you say, Alexia?"

"N-nothing, Mama," Alexia said. "Sorry, sorry, it wasn't for you."

"You better cut this secluded attitude right now! Me and your sister will be at your house today for dinner at 8 pm."

Well, Eli didn't leave much room for argument.

"Okay, Mami, I'll wait for you."

Alexia could hear her mom taking a deep breath. "See you later, Alexia. Te amo."

"También te amo, Mami."

And just like that, her mom ended the call.

"Well–"

"No," Alexia said, frowning. "Not now."

The kid huffed. "You are a bad daughter, and now it's my fault?"

"I'm not a bad daughter!" Alexia said.

"That's not what your mami said," Y/n said.

"I've just been busy," Alexia kind of lied. "Couldn't call her a lot."

"Busy with what?" the kid said.

"What do you mean by what? With captaining Barcelona? Spain? With you?"

"Me?! I'm a delight in your life!"

"Oh, don't stretch it."

Silence.

"I'm gonna tell your mom you treat me terribly."

"You're not gonna tell my mami anything," Alexia said. "We need to talk about this. They will ask who you are, and I need you to say that you won a prize draw or something and got a day with me."

"That would be lying."

"Yes."

"Am I allowed to lie?"

Alexia took a deep breath. "For this occasion, you are."

..

They continued to drive. Alexia stopped at a supermarket to do some grocery shopping since she was going to host a dinner for her family.

When they got home, Alexia told Y/n to take a shower, put on some good clothes, and do her homework. The kid complained but did so, probably sensing how stressed Alexia was.

The next few hours passed. Alexia did the cleaning, the cooking, and tried to coach Y/n on what to say. By the time the doorbell rang at exactly 8 pm, Alexia felt like she might throw up.

When Eli and Alba got to Alexia's house, the table was already set, and Alexia was the one who welcomed them at the door.

The kid was sitting on the sofa, a Percy Jackson book in hand. She looked very well-behaved. Alexia was suspicious.

"Hi, Mami," Alexia said, hugging her mom, who hugged her back before slapping her arm.

"You never disappear on me and your sister ever again."

"Sí, Mami, sorry," Alexia said, taking a step to the left and hugging Alba.

"Never leave me this much time alone with Mami ever again," Alba whispered playfully in her ear.

"Alexia... who's that?" Alexia's mom asked, pointing at the sofa, at the kid, who had the most angelic face on.

"Hello, Mrs. Putellas!" the kid said, extending her hand.

Eli looked back at Alexia with a confused expression on her face, but took the kid's hand, smiling at her gently.

"Hi, sweetheart," Eli said.

The kid beamed at her. And then there was silence.

"Hmm, who are you?" Eli asked.

"Oh…" Then the kid smiled mischievously. "I'm Y/n Putellas Segura. Alexia adopted me."

Alexia watched as her mother's face went through several expressions: confusion, shock, disbelief, and then something that looked almost like joy before settling into pure surprise.

"She... what?" Eli said slowly, looking between Y/n and Alexia.

Alba's mouth fell open. "Wait, what? Alexia, what is she talking about?"

"I can explain–" Alexia started, but Y/n was already bouncing up from the couch.

"She's been taking care of me for weeks! We have pancakes for breakfast, and she drives me to school, and she promised to sign me up for La Masia!" Y/n said proudly, completely oblivious to the chaos she had just created.

Eli sat down on the nearest chair, staring at Alexia with wide eyes. "Alexia Putellas Segura, you better start talking right now."

And Alexia knew, looking at her mother's face and then at Y/n's bright, trusting smile, that her life had just changed forever. There was no going back now.

..

a/n: Again, you guys have no idea how long it took me to write this. I think I've proofread this fic like ten times, and I can even dictate it word by word.

Tag list: @footy-lover264 , @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16, @wosohk04, @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog

[holyblonded]

Australia | no more secrets.

find the no more secrets masterlist here!

24 weeks pregnant | april 3rd 2025

After you hung up on Kyra, you laid in bed and refused to do anything else for that day. It was 6 o’clock for Kyra when you hung up on her and she spent the next few hours trying to get through to you before she went to bed. She rang multiple times and left text after text but you wouldn’t answer anyone. 

Kyra: hayden please pick up 

Kyra: hayden im sorry

Kyra: Hayds please

Kyra: im sorry I fucked up

Texts like that filled your phone screen for the next six hours, eventually they stopped when Kyra texted you to tell you she was sorry once again and this time that she was heading to bed. 

Kyra: im really sorry 

Kyra: i didn’t mean what I said 

Kyra: im heading to bed, please pick up tomorrow hayds 

Kyra: I miss you

You sighed as you watched the final text pop up on your phone screen. It was only 3pm for you and you’d spent the majority of the day drying. You hadn’t woken up until 11am and as much as you wanted to talk to Kyra, her words still stung and hurt you. 

How could she be so careless? You’d tried your hardest to be open and honest with her and she’d just shut down your feelings. The hoodie meant a lot to you but Kyra meant even more. 

You spent the rest of your day moping around, replying to the odd text from Beth here and there before scoffing your face with ice cream. Lotte had tried her hardest to convince you to come out with her for coffee but you refused, too sad to even think about leaving the comfort of your bed.  

It was around 10pm when Kyra’s texts started again, it was 7am for her and it was clear you were the first thing on her mind when she woke up. You put your phone in do not disturb and continue watching Netflix on your laptop. 

Your mind drifted away for the next few hours and before you knew it, it was 1am and texts were still flooding through. You stared at the screen for what felt like forever. Another message from Kyra had just come through:

Kyra: I know I messed up. I just want to fix it. Please, Hayds.

You let out a shaky breath, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. Your heart ached. You and Kyra weren’t even dating. You were just friends, close friends, but the way she’d brushed you off had cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was the loneliness. Maybe it was the fact that you were 24 weeks pregnant and needed someone, needed her, and she had no idea how much she meant to you, even as a friend.

So at 1am, after hours of avoiding her texts and replaying the conversation over and over again in your head, you opened your laptop and booked a flight.

To Sydney.

At 11am.

You stared at the confirmation email like it might vanish if you blinked too hard.

The flight was insane. You knew that. But staying here, alone and aching, felt worse. You didn’t want to yell at her over the phone anymore. You wanted her to see you. To hear you properly. To understand. Even if you weren’t dating, even if she never saw you as anything more than her mate who cried too easily, you still deserved more than “bro” and “it’s just fabric.”

You closed your laptop slowly and packed in a daze, grabbing the essentials: loose clothes, some toiletries, a blanket for the plane, and your prenatal stuff. You left a text for Beth, texted Lotte to cancel your plans, and curled up for a few hours of sleep, setting an alarm for 7am.

When your alarm buzzed, you felt like a zombie, but the decision didn’t feel crazy anymore. Just necessary.

By 8am, you were in the car to Heathrow. By 10am, you were through security.

And by 11:00, you were boarding.

You hadn’t told Kyra or Steph. 

You didn’t want Steph to talk you out of it.

You just needed to see Kyra and spend a few days with her in Sydney. 

Was it crazy getting on a 7 hour flight to Dubai then a 14 hour flight to Sydney? Yes. Was it going to be worth it? Yes. Was you probably gonna be absolutely wrecked for the next week with jet lag? Also yes. 

Most people would call you crazy for travelling to Sydney at 24 weeks pregnant but you didn’t care. As you sat waiting to board the flight, you felt your baby girl kick against your palm. 

You rubbed the spot gently, whispering, “We’re gonna be okay. We just need to see her, yeah?”

Your voice trembled a little, but you meant it. This wasn’t about logic or being sensible anymore. It was about feeling better. You didn’t know what would happen when you landed in Sydney. You didn’t know how Kyra would react to seeing you at her door but you knew you had to see her.

The flight was long. Long and brutal.

You slept in spurts, curled into yourself as much as your small bump allowed. You binged tv shows and movies, did a bit of colouring and slept even more. 

After 7 hours, you finally landed in Dubai at 8pm. Your flight to Sydney wasn’t until 10am the next morning so you checked yourself into the hotel and got a few hours of sleep. Your alarm woke you up at 7am and before you knew it you were on the flight to Sydney. 

By the time you stepped off the plane in Sydney, it was 9pm and Kyra was playing her match. Your legs were heavy, your back ached, and the timezone shift made your brain feel like it was full of cotton. 

You turned your phone off airplane mode and waited, watching the signal bars flicker to life. Notifications exploded across the screen. There were texts from Beth, from Lotte, a missed call from Leah. And of course, more messages from Kyra.

Kyra: Still haven’t heard from you. Starting to get really worried now.

Beth: have you actually gone to Sydney??

Leah: please don’t tell me Beth’s right

Beth: you’re down sooo bad, Hayden

Kyra: Can you just let me know you’re okay, Hayds? Please.

Kyra: I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.

Kyra: I miss you. I miss you so much.

Kyra: Please just call me. Or text. Anything. I don’t care if you’re still mad. I just need to know you’re alright.

You didn’t reply. 

Instead, you grabbed your bag, pulled your hoodie over your bump, and walked through the terminal toward the arrivals area. You grabbed a taxi and within fifteen minutes you arrived at Kyra’s hotel. 

You took a deep breath as you stood in front of the reception desk, palms clammy and stomach twisting. Although you couldn’t tell if that was the baby or what. You had no idea what you were about to say, but it was going to have to be good.

The receptionist glanced up at you, eyes flicking from your tired, worn-out appearance. She gave you a bit of a judgemental look but you just politely smiled back. 

“Hi,” you started, voice unsteady. “I’m here to see my wife, Kyra Cooney-Cross. She’s staying here, and I—well, I need to see her. It’s really important.”

The receptionist raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“Your wife?” she asked, glancing at you with a hint of disbelief. “Ma’am, if you’re some fan then—”

You nodded, trying to seem calm despite the thunderstorm brewing in your chest. “I’m not. Kyra and I got married last year, just before the season began. It was a small thing. We’re just… not public about it. You know how it is when you’re both in the public eye. I play for Arsenal too, that’s how we met.”

You gave her a small, pleading smile, praying that the sincerity in your eyes was enough to sell the story.

“I tried to reach her on her phone, but I think it’s off already because she’s playing her match. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see me, but I just… I really need to be with her right now. Please.”

The receptionist hesitated, clearly not sure whether she should believe you. She had every right not to, you sounded like a crazy fan. You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice as you glanced around the lobby, making sure no one was paying attention.

“I’m pregnant with our first child,” you said softly. “I’m really emotional, and I’ve been traveling for ages. I just need to get into her room. I’ve been trying to get through to her for hours. Please.”

There was a long pause as the receptionist looked you up and down, still uncertain. You caught her gaze briefly and offered a small smile.

“Please,” you whispered again, this time your voice breaking just enough to pull at her heartstrings.

Still, the woman didn’t move, her eyes narrowing just slightly. Desperate now, you swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper.

“My mum was in an accident,” you added, eyes stinging as you forced yourself to look stricken. “It’s not looking good, I’m probably going to loose her. Kyra doesn’t know and–and I need to be the one to tell her when she gets back.”

That did it. The receptionist’s face shifted immediately, a flicker of sympathy softening her expression. She looked you over one last time, then sighed, pressing a few buttons on the computer. 

“Room 1403,” she said quietly, sliding the key card across the counter. “But if anyone asks, you didn’t get this from me.”

You took the card without a word, your hand trembling as you pocketed it, a wave of relief washing over you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice cracking before you made your way to the elevator. 

You had no idea how Kyra would react to seeing you here, let alone how you’d explain the lie and how you got into her room. But that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was getting to her, telling her how much you needed her, and maybe, just maybe, she’d understand why you went this far.

As soon as you closed the hotel door behind you, you let out a shaky breath, not believing you’d actually gotten away with the lie to reception. Your mind raced as you set your bag down by the bed and started unpacking, methodically taking out your things. 

You moved in a daze, mind still caught up in the mess you’d made, but the plan was clear now. You had to be there when Kyra got back. You couldn’t turn back now. You finished unpacking, then grabbed a towel, heading straight for the shower. 

The warm water soothed your aching body as you scrubbed the travel grime away, trying to clear your mind. Every minute that passed made you more nervous. You had no idea how Kyra would react when she realized you were here, or what kind of mess you were walking into, but you were committed now.

You were halfway through your shower when Kyra got back, you didn’t hear her though. The sound of the shower being on made her stop in her tracks, she listened for a little bit before immediately leaving her room and heading to Steph’s. 

“Steph!” Kyra yelled, banging on her door, “Steph help! Someone’s in my room.”

“Kyra, what the fuck.” Steph said opening the door, “I’m sure no one’s in your room, you’re being dramatic…”

Kyra shook her head, “No, Steph, I swear! Someone’s in there. The shower’s on. I came in and the lights were on but the bathroom door’s shut and I heard it. I didn’t leave it like that, I swear.”

Steph rubbed her face, clearly exhausted and not in the mood. “Are you sure you didn’t just—?”

“I turned everything off and locked the door when I left!” Kyra cut in. “And none of my stuff’s moved except the bathroom. Please. Just come with me.”

Steph sighed, grabbed her keycard, and muttered something about dramatic twenty-somethings with overactive imaginations. But she followed Kyra down the hall anyway. When they reached Kyra’s room again, she hesitated. Her keycard hovered in front of the door for a second before she swiped it.

“I’m not crazy,” she whispered.

The lock clicked. The door swung open. The sound of the shower was loud, unmistakable now.

Steph blinked, eyes narrowing, instantly more alert. “Okay, yeah… that’s weird.”

Kyra’s heart pounded in her chest as she stepped inside. Her gaze darted to her suitcase, which was unzipped. Clothes were folded on the bed.

“What the—?” she breathed.

And a moment later, the bathroom door opened and you stepped out, in Kyra’s pjs, your hair damp and your bump popping out a tiny bit beneath it.

Kyra froze.

Steph’s jaw actually dropped.

Your eyes landed on Kyra, then flicked to Steph, and you looked like you might cry again.

“Hey,” you said, voice small. “Sorry. I—uh used your pjs and the last of your toothpaste, you’re gonna need some more…”

Silence.

Kyra just stared. Her brain couldn’t catch up. You were here. You were actually here. Pregnant. Tired. In her pjs and standing in her hotel room like a scene from a dream.

“I thought Beth was joking when she said that you hopped on a flight!” Was the first thing Steph said. 

“Wha…huh” Kyra stuttered, “You’re…you’re supposed to be in England? I…”

“I came here to talk to you about what happened…” you said, “I, um, it was a last minute thing.”

“Oh…um,” Kyra said, “That’s…cool.”

“You’re crazy,” Steph started to lecture you, folding her arms across her chest with that big-sister energy she did so well. “Actually insane. You’re twenty-four weeks pregnant, Hayden! You flew across the damn world!”

“I know,” you mumbled, shifting slightly on your feet. “I didn’t know what else to do. She weren’t listening and I didn’t want to fight anymore.”

Steph shook her head, but the corners of her mouth twitched, softening her tone. “Jesus. I’m gonna go. You two clearly need to… I dunno. Talk. Cry. Hug. Kiss. Whatever it is you’re doing.”

She pointed a finger at Kyra before heading toward the door. “If she passes out or goes into labour because of you, you’re gonna be in so much trouble.”

“Just keep it pg…” Steph sighed, “Some of us want to sleep tonight.”

The door clicked shut behind Steph, and the silence that followed was heavy. You stood there awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other, fiddling with the sleeve of Kyra’s oversized pajama top. The air between you was thick, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

Kyra still hadn’t moved. She just stared, looking around and avoiding your gaze. 

Silence settled over the room like a thick fog. You stood there awkwardly, your damp hair dripping slowly onto the front of her oversized pajama shirt. Kyra hadn’t moved from where she stood, still frozen in place.

You shifted on your feet, your arms hugging around your middle, trying to protect your bump like it could somehow protect your heart too.

“I–I umm…I know I should’ve called,” you said quietly, voice cracking just a little. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. And umm…I don’t want to fight. I just want to talk.”

Kyra opened her mouth and then shut it again, like she couldn’t quite figure out how to start. Eventually, she walked further into the room, rubbing the back of her neck.

“I—” she started, voice rough. “Hayds, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear. I–I was being stupid. I thought I was making a joke and I just… wasn’t thinking. About what that hoodie meant to you. About what you needed.”

You nodded slowly, “I know. I just… I wanted you to understand. I was trying to tell you something important and you just laughed it off. It made me feel like I didn’t matter.”

Kyra’s face crumpled a little at that, her shoulders sagging. “You do matter. You matter so fucking much. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said any of that. I’ve been missing you like mad and I just—when you hung up, I panicked. I thought I’d really lost you.”

You looked at her, heart aching, “I’m just all over the place with my hormones…It’s rough.”

“I get that,” Kyra nodded, “Well I don’t…but I really want to try and understand. I just want to be there for you. I’ve missed you a lot.”

She opened her arms, just slightly, you stepped into them without hesitation.

And then you cried.

Not loud, not messy. Just soft, quiet sobs against her shoulder while her arms wrapped around you like they were meant to be there. She held you tighter than she ever had before, her cheek pressed to the top of your damp head.

“I–I missed you too,” you whispered, voice muffled against her. “So much. I–I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” Kyra murmured again, swaying with you just a little like she could rock you into feeling safe again. “I promise I’ll listen better or at least try to.”

You both stood like that for a long time, until your breathing evened out again and your fingers clutched gently at her shirt like you didn’t want to let go.

Eventually, Kyra pulled back just a little, her hand lifting to tuck some damp hair behind your ear.

“Come on,” she said softly, “you need sleep, I ain’t being mean but you look absolutely wrecked and like you need a million cuddles.”

You nodded, letting her guide you toward the bed. You crawled in first, laying carefully on your side. Kyra followed, sliding in behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist, her hand resting instinctively over your bump.

For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe.

It was quiet again for a little while. Then you felt it, one soft kick beneath Kyra’s palm as she rested it on the lower part of your bump.”

Her hand twitched. “Did she just—?”

You smiled faintly. “She hasn’t stopped moving all day and now she’s saying hi.”

Kyra let out a quiet laugh, full of awe. “Hi, little gremlin.” She said, poking your stomach, “I missed you too.”

Kyra poked your stomach once again, getting another kick in response before stopping, “Wait—how did you get into my room?”

You paused.

Then winced.

And slowly, so slowly, turned your head on the pillow to meet Kyra’s suspicious stare.

“Uhh…” you said, flashing an innocent smile that you knew she’d never fall for. “I can explain?”

Kyra narrowed her eyes immediately, hand still resting on your bump but already poised for drama. “Oh my god, did Hayden Daniels lie her way into my room?”

You groaned and buried your face in the pillow for a second. “Nothing major...”

“That’s not a denial,” Kyra said, clearly fighting a grin now. “What did you tell them? Did you flirt your way into my room? Was there crying? I feel like there was crying.”

You lifted your head and glared at her. “I did not flirt!”

“Did you use the bump?” she asked, poking at it with a ridiculous smirk. “Did you guilt-trip them with your pregnancy hormones? Because if so, I am so proud of you.”

You let out a laugh, despite yourself. “I may have… exaggerated a little. Told them I was your wife. Told them it was an emergency. Played the emotional card.”

Kyra gasped dramatically. “Wife? Damn, you skipped a few steps there, Hayds.”

“I panicked!” you whined. “She thought I was some obsessed fan! I had to make it believable.”

“Oh, and being my emotional, hormonal, distraught wife was the best you could come up with?”

You crossed your arms, scowling. “I should’ve just broken in through the window.”

Kyra snorted. “Please. You can barely walk without getting out of breath, let alone climb through a window.”

You smacked her with the pillow beside you.

“Okay, okay!” she said, laughing and grabbing the pillow before you could hit her again. “Honestly, though… that’s kind of impressive. You committed to the bit. I respect that.”

You flopped back on the bed, grumbling. “You’re such a pest.”

“I prefer smart and charmingly annoying, thank you.”

“Besides,” Kyra added, her voice a little softer now, “I’m kinda glad you’re here.”

You turned your head to look at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She grinned again, “Even if you did steal my PJs, hijack my room, and fake a marriage to get in here.”

And just then before you could reply, your baby kicked again, right beneath Kyra’s palm.

Her eyes widened. “Oi—she’s kicking again!”

“Yeah,” you said, watching her reaction with a small smile. “She’s been showing off since I got on the plane.”

Kyra leaned closer, pressing her hand more firmly against your bump like she could feel every twitch and wriggle. “She’s got good timing. Bit of a drama queen, this one.”

“Wonder who she’s learning that from.”

Kyra looked offended. “Excuse me?!”

You grinned. “Pest.”

“Fake-wife,” she shot back. 

Eventually, the laughter faded into quiet little giggles, your cheeks aching and your body exhausted. Kyra shifted beside you, her hand still gently resting on your bump, fingers tapping out a soft rhythm like she was saying goodnight to the little one.

You let out a sigh and closed your eyes for a second. “What time is it?”

Kyra grabbed her phone from the nightstand and blinked at the screen. “It’s literally twelve-oh-three. You’re officially a crazy person for showing up like this.”

You didn’t even have the energy to argue. “Yeah, well… crazy person needs to sleep before she cries again over a sandwich or a misplaced sock.”

“Fair,” Kyra said, gently tugging the covers up over both of you. “And also kind of adorable. Just saying.”

You mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “shut up” into the pillow, already halfway to asleep.

Kyra smiled to herself, settling in beside you, her arm draped lightly across your waist. You could feel her stillness now, no more teasing, no more poking, just her warm, quiet presence anchoring you in the unfamiliar room.

“Night, fake wifey,” she murmured.

“Night, pest,” you whispered back, the corner of your mouth twitching up.

And just like that, you let your eyes close fully, sleep claiming you within moments, wrapped up in hotel sheets and Kyra’s too-big pajamas. 

The next morning you definitely felt the jet lag. 

Kyra was up early for training, as she slipped out of the bed you woke up from the sudden movement. You mumbled and groaned about being awake before Kyra told you to go back to sleep, which you happily did. 

While she was at training for a few hours, you slept peacefully as you caught up on sleep. By the time she was back, it was almost two o’clock and she’d bought you some lunch back with her. 

You were still in her hoodie, hair a little wild from sleep and your eyes puffy, when Kyra returned. The door opened with a click, and you barely lifted your head from the pillow as she stepped in, bag of food in one hand, training gear slung over her shoulder.

“I come bearing gifts,” she said cheerfully, kicking the door shut behind her.

You grunted in response, not even pretending to sit up. “If it’s not a nap in a box, I don’t want it.”

Kyra grinned, walking over and setting the food on the nightstand. “It’s not. But it’s the sandwich you sobbed over last week, and a chocolate milkshake.”

That got your attention. You slowly pushed yourself upright, groaning like an old woman as you moved. “Oh my god, I love you!”

Kyra raised an eyebrow. “You fake-marry me once and now you’re throwing out the L-word like it’s nothing.”

You threw a pillow at her.

She dodged it with a laugh, then walked over and plopped down next to you, handing you the sandwich and watching with far too much amusement as you unwrapped it like it was the Holy Grail.

“I also got you crisps,” she added, reaching into the bag and tossing the packet beside you.

You glanced at her mid-bite. “Why are you being nice?”

Kyra shrugged. “Just being a good wifey. Gotta make sure you’re fed!”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

You ate slowly, more out of tiredness than anything, your body heavy and sore. Kyra stayed beside you, scrolling aimlessly on her phone with her knee bumping against yours every few seconds. Every so often, she’d steal a crisp or sip from your drink without asking.

“You’re annoying today,” you muttered as you finished the last bite of your sandwich. “And clingy…”

“Am not,” she said, though she didn’t move.

You gave her a look.

“…Okay, maybe a little. But only because you showed up out of nowhere and I can’t help that I just want to spend some time with my best friend in Sydney.”

You blinked at her, then smirked. “That was a lot of words just to say you missed me.”

Kyra rolled her eyes. “I did not miss you. I missed the baby. She’s way cooler than you already.”

“Oh, I see,” you said, dramatic as ever. “Used for my baby.”

Kyra leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder. “I was used by my fake wife! The betrayal is even.”

You sighed, letting your head rest against hers. “I should probably shower.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Too much effort. Stay here and nap with me again.”

“It’s not even three yet, Ky.”

“Exactly. Prime nap hours.”

You yawned, the travel and interrupted sleep finally catching up to you. “Fine, a quick nap then can we go explore Sydney?”

“Fine but no promises on me not being grumpy when I wake up,” Kyra said, already dragging the covers up around both of you again.

You rolled your eyes but let yourself sink down beside her. Her arm curled loosely around your side again, like it was her new default position, and within minutes, the familiar weight of her breathing started to lull you back to sleep.

The both of you woke up a few hours later, it was almost five o’clock and you took a quick shower before heading into Sydney. You thought the whole fake wife thing was over but then you ran into the receptionist from yesterday. 

“Oh! Mrs Cooney-Cross, how’s your mother doing?” She asked you politely. “Is she doing any better now? I’m so sorry for yesterday, it’s just we have to be super strict when we have teams staying!”

“Oh umm…” You opened your mouth, then closed it again. Panic set in as the receptionist looked between you both with polite concern, clearly waiting for an answer.

Kyra didn’t give you the chance.

“She’s doing a bit better now,” Kyra said smoothly, slipping into the lie like it was second nature. “Still in critical condition, but she’s stable. They think she might be moved out of ICU in the next few days.”

Your head snapped toward her so fast you almost got whiplash.

“Oh, how awful,” the receptionist said softly, hand over her chest. “I’m so sorry you’re going through that. It must be so hard while you’re pregnant!”

“Yeah,” Kyra nodded, placing a gentle hand on your back like the perfect supportive wife. “It’s been really hard, especially with the pregnancy and all the hormones. That’s why she flew out, needed to be with someone familiar, you know? And sort a few things out.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. You were going to kill her.

The receptionist reached out and squeezed your arm gently. “We’re really sorry again for the mix-up yesterday, Mrs Cooney-Cross. If there’s anything we can do for you, don’t hesitate.”

You nodded weakly, mumbling a thanks before practically dragging Kyra away by the elbow as soon as you were out of earshot.

“What the hell was that?” you hissed, rounding on her the moment you turned the corner.

Kyra was already giggling. “What? I just saved you!”

“She’s in critical condition?! Are you serious?!”

“Hey, I didn’t say dead. Just… nearly. It gives your whole wife act a lot more realism.”

You stared at her in disbelief. “I don’t even talk to my mum. She could be on a beach in Ibiza right now for all I know!”

Kyra grinned, unbothered. “Well, then it’s a good thing she’s not going to find out you’ve got her in an imaginary ICU, huh?”

You groaned, covering your face. “You are so going to hell.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be going there as a very convincing fake wife,” she quipped, winking at you. “Besides, she totally bought it. We’re basically the tragic lead couple in a romcom now!”

You dropped your hands, glaring at her. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Kyra bumped your shoulder. “You love me.”

You just shook your head and laughed, “Stop boosting your ego and show me around Sydney. I wanna see the sunset on the beach later before I get too tired.”

“God,” Kyra huffed, “So demanding! Just because I’m an Aussie doesn’t make me your personal tour guide.”

“Oh you’ll get over it.”

Kyra guided you through the streets of Sydney, her fingers grazing yours now and then. They never quite held on but never let go. You walked past cafés and little shops, your steps slower than usual as you grew tired, but Kyra never once complained like she usually would’ve.

You spotted a tiny gift shop tucked between two larger buildings and you tugged Kyra towards it. Inside was cozy, filled with postcards, magnets, and an overwhelming amount of Australia-themed merch. Kyra’s eyes landed on a small, soft, grey koala teddy. It had round ears, a cute little smile, little paws stitched together like it was mid-hug.

“Oh my god, Hayds!” Kyra gasped, showing you the little teddy, “Look how cute this is! She needs it.”

You raised a brow. “Kyra, she has, like, five stuffed animals already.”

“Yeah, but none from Australia,” she replied, already hugging it to her chest. “It’s her first real souvenir!”

You didn’t argue. You just smiled and followed her to the register.

Afterwards, you walked around a few more shops before grabbing something to eat. By the time you’d finished with all that, the sun was starting to set. You made your way down to the beach, the tide soft. 

You took off your shoes and let the sand cling to your toes as you walked side by side until you found a quiet patch. Kyra dropped down first, sitting down dramatically while you eased yourself onto the sand, careful and slow with the extra weight of your, still small, bump.

“You good?” she asked, already brushing sand off of her.

“Yeah,” you sighed, leaning back on your hands. “This is actually… really nice.”

The soft wind played with your hair as the two of you sat there. Kyra’s hand found its way to your belly again like it belonged there, fingers splayed across the curve with casual familiarity.

“She’s being lazy,” you said after a while, nudging your bump with your palm. “She was kicking all morning.”

Kyra frowned and leaned down a little, mouth near your stomach. “Oi. Wake up, tiny gremlin. It’s rude to ignore me!”

You laughed softly, and then right on cue there it was. A little kick. Then another.

Kyra gasped, wide-eyed. “She kicked me!”

“Told you she listens to you.”

Kyra grinned like a kid who’d just found treasure, her hand pressing gently like she might catch another one.

The moment stretched quietly, the sun melting into the horizon, casting everything in soft orange and pink. For a while, neither of you spoke. The waves rolled in, the wind curled around you both, and the only sounds were the slow rise and fall of the tide and your baby’s gentle fluttering kicks.

Then Kyra broke the silence.

“Why did you really come all the way out here, Hayds?”

You hesitated, your gaze stuck on the water. The truth had been sitting heavy in your chest for days. Maybe weeks.

You turned to her, eyes softer now. “Because I missed you. Like… a stupid amount. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how everything just felt better when you were around.”

Kyra blinked, caught completely off guard. “Oh...”

You let out a breathy laugh, more nervous than amused. “Yeah. I know. It was a bit dramatic flying halfway across the world just because I missed my best friend.”

“I missed you too,” she said quietly, almost like she was surprised to hear herself say it out loud.

You nodded, chewing your bottom lip, not sure what to say next. 

She then shifted slightly, leaning in just a bit.

You didn’t pull away. You didn’t even breathe.

Her gaze dropped to your lips and lingered there for a second or two. She leaned in the rest of the way—

And accidentally jabbed you in the eye with her nose.

“Shit—Hayds, I’m so sorry!” she gasped, pulling back in horror.

You covered your eye with one hand, half laughing, half wincing. “It’s okay, I’m fine. Just temporarily blind.”

Kyra looked like she wanted to disappear into the sand. “Oh my god, I ruined it, didn’t I?”

You peeked at her through one squinted eye, still grinning. “Depends. Were you trying to kiss me or assassinate me?”

Kyra groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “I was trying to kiss you.”

“Well, you did make an impact.”

That got her to laugh, and when she looked up again, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. “Okay, okay. Round two. I promise no eye pokes.”

“Yeah?” you said softly, lowering your hand. “You sure you’re qualified?”

“Very qualified actually,” she replied, scooting closer.

This time, when she leaned in, it was slower, more careful. You met her halfway, your noses brushing just lightly before your lips found hers. No hesitation. 

The kiss was hesitant at first, more of a question than an answer. Her lips were soft and warm and unsure against yours, like she was waiting to see if you’d pull back. But you didn’t.

Instead, your hand found the edge of her hoodie, fingers curling into it as you kissed her back, slow and certain.

It was gentle and steady. 

When she pulled back, her smile was sheepish. “Much better without the accidental assault.”

You laughed. “Agreed.”

And then you kissed her again, just because you could.

[holyblonded]

any baby val, her sisters and her moms you can spare I'd be so happy to read

— baby val’s favorite place in the world is right in the middle of estrella and azulita. she’ll climb onto the couch, wedge herself between them, and fling one arm on each of their legs like she’s claiming territory. if one of them moves, she’ll pout until they come back.

— she always asks “where’s my girls?” when she wakes up from a nap. “my girls” being estrella and azulita. sometimes she yells it from the top of the stairs like a dramatic little boss.

— olga can’t even lie, her heart melts when she hears estrella in the kitchen whispering “shhh don’t tell mama but i gave you extra gummies.” azulita is no better, slipping val the last piece of chocolate and blaming it on the wind.

— ale plays the enforcer. she’s the one who says “only one episode” and tries to limit sugar, but val just blinks at her and says “okay dad,” which makes estrella howl. ale doesn’t know how to correct her without laughing.

— they all have a group routine for bedtime. one night estrella reads the story, one night azulita does the lullaby, and the next night is “mama and mami night,” which val claims is boring unless olga lets her sleep in their bed.

— baby val adores when her moms match. if ale and olga wear anything even close to the same color, she’ll yell “same!” and demand to change into something similar too. she once made azulita wear a flower crown for a whole afternoon just because olga had one.

— val’s “art studio” is the kitchen table. estrella and azulita hype up everything she makes like it’s fine art. “you see that circle?” estrella says, pointing to a crayon blob. “that’s genius.” azulita’s framing them on the wall. olga is exhausted from buying more magnet strips for the fridge.

— when ale comes home from away games, val runs to the door yelling “papa!!” even though everyone has told her ten times that ale is not dad. at this point, alexia’s given up and just opens her arms like “come here.”

— azulita and estrella take their role as big sisters dead seriously. if val even scrapes her knee, one of them is already looking for who to fight. she had a disagreement with a daycare kid and estrella said “give me five minutes and a hoodie.”

— family movie nights are a big deal. val chooses the film, olga makes popcorn, estrella sneaks in candy, azulita sets up the blankets just right, and ale ends up asleep 30 minutes in with val asleep on her chest.

[holyblonded]

any sunny and alexia hcs for us pls?

— sunny absolutely raids alexia’s kitchen at all hours. she once made a sandwich at 3am and left the mess. alexia found it in the morning and just sent a photo with a skull emoji

— sunny steals her clothes constantly. big hoodies, sunglasses, her training jackets… alexia eventually gave up and cleared out a drawer for her

— whenever sunny’s overstimulated or tired and takes her implants out, alexia instinctively signs to her now, even if sunny’s not looking

— they watch matches together but sunny talks so much alexia has to pause every five minutes. “you wanna analyze or watch, sol?” sunny blinks, “both.”

— alexia leaves little notes around her house and sunny’s. things like “good luck today” or “eat something real pls” or “put the chicken nuggets down, now.”

— alexia makes her smoothies after training and sunny pretends to gag every time. “it’s green, bro.” alexia rolls her eyes, “you’ll live.”

— sometimes sunny just… exists in alexia’s space. no talking, no implants, just silence. and alexia never pushes her to speak.

— when sunny made her debut with barca, alexia pulled her into a hug and whispered “you belong here” and sunny nearly cried.

— alexia once scolded her mid-match for picking a fight and sunny deadass signed “i’m too cute for this” and jogged away.

— sunny always finds her on the pitch after a goal, no matter where she is. it’s like muscle memory at this point

— alexia tells everyone she didn’t mean to become this invested in a chaos child with killer footwork. but she’s all in now. that’s her kid.

[holyblonded]

hiya hope you’re okay!!

could we possibly have some soleil and putellas-rio’s house hold hcs please, just maybe some cute moments with just ale and olga or with valerie :)

— soleil calls it “the palace” because it’s so organized and homey. she’s there a lot when estrella goes to international camp or some ad shoot.

— ale wakes up earliest, always. she starts her day with quiet stretches on the patio and a coffee before anyone else is up. sometimes val toddles out early, curls into her lap still half-asleep. they sit in the quiet together while the sun rises, and ale kisses the top of her head and says “buenos días, mi corazón.”

— olga’s mornings are slower, but she never misses val’s morning routine. she lets her pick her outfit (chaotic fashion toddler energy), does her hair in little pigtails with sparkly clips, and sings silly songs while brushing her teeth.

— soleil is surprisingly good at doing toddler hair. she doesn’t know how or why but somehow she’s become the go-to braider. if val throws a tantrum and refuses ale or olga, soleil is the one who distracts her with songs or finger puppets while tying her hair.

— sunday mornings are for art. val sits at her little table with paints and crayons, olga sets up her mood lighting candles, and soleil puts on a vinyl. ale tries to supervise but ends up with glitter on her forehead and a blue streak down her arm. estrella instigates. every time she tries to rile up val, she’s immediately scolded by her protector, soleil.

— once, val asked why soleil didn’t play football too, and soleil was like “because i’m soft and i like cake.” olga nearly cried laughing. ale just nodded solemnly and said “fair.”

— soleil and olga have a mini book club going. they’ll read novels together and gossip about the characters like they’re real. val doesn’t understand what they’re saying but still sits in their lap and turns the pages.

— sometimes val climbs into soleil’s lap for “girl talk” before naps. it’s mostly val babbling about her day at nursery and soleil gasping like she’s hearing the juiciest secrets in the world.

— ale and olga still sneak little dates. soleil watches val, puts on a cooking show, and lets her “help” with dinner (which usually means flour ends up on the ceiling). ale returns home to val’s masterpiece art drying in the hallway and olga pretending she doesn’t notice the flour footprints on the stairs.

[holyblonded]

estrella putellas | stargirl universe

𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲: celestina amore pascual putellas

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵: august 17, 2008

𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵: phillidelphia, pa

𝗽𝗼𝘀𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻(𝘀): foward

𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗺: barcelona (2013–)

𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿: 13

𝘆𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿: barcelona

𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿: spain u17 (2020) united states u17 (2021) united states (2021–)

celestina pascual was born to her parents in phillidelphia, pa, august 17th, 2008. her father is the one that got her interested with football at a very young age. her father whereabouts are unknown to the public and her mother died when estrella was younger.

she was adopted by fellow teammate alexia putellas after her mother’s death. estrella joined barcelona at an extremely young age and rose through the ranks of la masia. she was advanced for her age and was often put into the older girls training sessions.

after an unfortunate incident that happened between estrella and her u15 spanish coach that ended with a high ankle sprain on estrella’s part, she refused to play for the spain team. luckily, she was eligible to play for other national teams like england, italy, and the united states, she choose to play for team usa after a long conversation with emma hayes.

[holyblonded]

·˚ ༘ ━━ character profiles

character profiles have a few purposes! not only is it a quick guide for new readers, it helps you and me keep the storylines straight!

‧₊˚ ━ estrella’s profile

click here!

‧₊˚ ━ chickadee’s profile

‧₊˚ ━ azulita’s profile

‧₊˚ ━ sunny’s profile