oohtobeagooner

[oohtobeagooner]

London to Barcelona

(Alexia Putellas x YN! Williamson) [Masterlist]

Chapter 5: The Invitation

YN's client meeting in Barcelona had wrapped up by noon, leaving them with an unexpected free afternoon in the city. The successful resolution of a complex international merger should have felt satisfying, but all YN could think about was the text they'd sent Alexia that morning: "Free this afternoon if that city tour offer still stands."

The response had come within minutes: "Definitely. Meet me at Parc de la Ciutadella in an hour? I'll be the one in the terrible disguise trying not to be recognized."

Now, walking through the tree-lined paths of the park, YN spotted her immediately. Alexia sat on a bench near the fountain, wearing oversized sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low, but her posture and the way she moved were unmistakable. Even in civilian clothes, she carried herself like an athlete.

"Terrible disguise confirmed," YN said, approaching with a smile. "I spotted you from fifty meters away."

Alexia looked up, and even through the sunglasses, YN could see her eyes light up. "Maybe you're just very observant. Professional hazard of being a lawyer?"

"Or maybe you're just terrible at blending in." YN settled beside her on the bench, close enough to catch her subtle perfume. "Thank you for this. I know you must be busy."

"Less busy than you'd think. And more bored than I care to admit." Alexia stood, pulling off the sunglasses to reveal those expressive brown eyes YN had been thinking about for days. "Come on, let me show you the real Barcelona."

The next few hours passed in a blur of winding streets and easy conversation. Alexia proved to be an excellent guide, leading YN through hidden plazas and local cafés that never would have appeared in any tourist guidebook. She spoke passionately about the city's history, pointing out architectural details and sharing stories about growing up in nearby Mollet del Vallès.

"This is where I come when I need to think," Alexia said as they climbed to a quiet viewpoint overlooking the city. "Away from the cameras and expectations."

YN studied her profile as she gazed out over Barcelona's sprawling landscape. "It must be exhausting, always being 'Alexia Putellas' in public."

"Sometimes I forget there's a difference anymore," Alexia admitted quietly. "The person and the player." She turned to face YN, something vulnerable in her expression. "Does that make sense?"

"More than you know." YN thought about their own struggle with the boundaries between professional success and personal identity. "I think that's what happens when you build your whole life around one thing. It becomes harder to remember who you were before."

"Exactly." Alexia's voice was soft with recognition. "Sometimes I wonder what my father would think of who I've become. He always said football should serve me, not the other way around."

It was the first time either of them had mentioned their fathers, and YN felt something shift between them. A deeper layer of understanding, built on shared loss and the weight of carrying someone else's dreams forward.

"My dad always said I'd make an excellent lawyer because I never backed down from an argument," YN said. "Even when I probably should have."

"Is that what you were doing at Mariona's party? Not backing down?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I was just enjoying the debate with someone who could actually keep up."

Alexia smiled, the kind of genuine expression that transformed her entire face. "I enjoyed it too. It's been a long time since someone argued with me about football without being intimidated."

They found themselves in a small tapas bar as the afternoon stretched into evening, conversation flowing as easily as the wine Alexia had ordered. YN found themselves sharing stories about their work, their struggles with loneliness despite professional success, even their complicated relationship with their father's memory.

"It's strange," YN said, twirling their wine glass thoughtfully. "I built exactly the life he always said I could have. But sometimes I wonder if I'm living for him or for me."

"I understand that completely," Alexia replied. "Every trophy, every award - part of me is still that little girl trying to make her papa proud. Even though he's not here to see it."

The honesty hung between them, comfortable but charged with possibility. YN felt that familiar flutter of attraction, but deeper now, built on genuine connection rather than just physical chemistry.

"Can I ask you something?" YN said, emboldened by wine and the intimacy of the moment.

"Of course."

"Why haven't you asked me anything about Arsenal? Most Barcelona fans would want to gloat about recent head-to-head records or trophies."

Alexia laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Because I'm more interested in what Arsenal means to you than how they perform against my team. Football rivalry is just football. But the way someone loves their club... that tells you who they are."

The observation was so insightful, so unexpectedly deep, that YN felt their carefully maintained walls shift slightly. This wasn't just an attractive footballer making conversation. This was someone who understood that football was about more than results, about identity and belonging and love that transcended logic.

"Arsenal is..." YN paused, searching for the right words. "Home. Even when everything else in my life fell apart, Arsenal was constant. Every other Saturday, same seat, same hope. It's where I feel closest to my father, where I remember who I used to be before grief changed everything."

Alexia reached across the small table, her fingers brushing against YN's hand. The contact was brief but electric. "That's beautiful. And explains why you defended them so fiercely at the party."

"What about Barcelona for you?"

"Everything," Alexia said simply. "My identity, my purpose, my burden, my joy. All wrapped up in one club." She paused, her expression growing thoughtful. "Though lately, I've been wondering if that's healthy."

"Why?"

"Because when everything depends on football, what happens when football isn't enough anymore?"

The question lingered between them as they walked through Barcelona's evening streets. YN felt the weight of their own parallel struggle - when everything depended on professional success, what happened when success felt hollow?

They ended up back at the park where they'd started, sitting on the same bench as the sun set over the city. The conversation had grown quieter, more intimate, both of them seeming reluctant to end whatever this was becoming.

"I should probably head back to my hotel," YN said eventually, though they made no move to leave.

"Probably," Alexia agreed, also staying put.

"This was... unexpected."

"Good unexpected or bad unexpected?"

YN turned to study Alexia's profile in the fading light. "Terrifying unexpected."

Alexia's smile was understanding. "The best things usually are."

As they finally stood to leave, YN felt a sudden surge of boldness. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the vulnerability they'd shared, or maybe it was simply the recognition that some opportunities didn't come twice.

"Alexia," they said, stopping her as she began to turn away. "I want to ask you something, and I need you to know I've never done this before."

"What is it?"

YN took a deep breath, thinking about their father's empty seat at Emirates, about Leah's protective love, about the risk of letting someone new into the sacred space where they grieved and hoped and remembered.

"Arsenal plays Chelsea next Saturday. I have two seats - the same ones I've had for eight years. One of them has been empty since my father died." YN's voice was steady despite the magnitude of what they were offering. "Would you like to come to London? Not as Alexia Putellas the footballer, just as... you. To see Arsenal play, and maybe understand what the club means to me."

Alexia's eyes widened, clearly understanding the significance of the invitation. YN was offering more than just a football match - they were offering to share the most sacred part of their grief and healing.

"YN, I..." Alexia started, then stopped, emotion flickering across her features. "Are you sure? That seat, it means—"

"I know what it means," YN said quietly. "That's why I'm asking. I've never invited anyone to sit there. Not even Leah. But with you, it feels... right."

The silence stretched between them, loaded with possibility and fear and the weight of trust being offered.

"Yes," Alexia said finally, her voice soft but certain. "I'd be honored to come."

As they exchanged details and made plans, YN felt something fundamental shift in their carefully ordered world. They were inviting someone into their most protected space, risking the peace they'd built around their father's memory.

But looking at Alexia - seeing the understanding and care in her eyes - YN realized that maybe some risks were worth taking. Maybe sharing sacred spaces didn't diminish them but made them more meaningful.

Maybe it was time to stop carrying their grief alone.

The thought was terrifying and exhilarating and absolutely right.

As YN flew back to London that evening, they couldn't shake the feeling that they'd just changed the trajectory of their life with a single invitation.

Some doors, once opened, could never be closed again.

[oohtobeagooner]

London to Barcelona

(Alexia Putellas x YN! Williamson) [Masterlist]

Chapter 6: Sacred Spaces

YN stood in the arrivals hall at Heathrow, checking their father's watch for the third time in five minutes. Alexia's flight had landed twenty minutes ago, and the familiar knot of anxiety in YN's stomach was growing tighter with each passing moment. What had seemed like a perfect idea in Barcelona's romantic evening light now felt impossibly complicated in London's harsh morning reality.

They were bringing someone to their father's seat. The seat that had remained empty for eight years, the sacred space where YN went to remember and grieve and feel close to the parent they'd lost too young. What if it felt wrong? What if having someone else there diminished the connection somehow?

"Stop overthinking," YN muttered to themselves, then froze as they spotted a familiar figure emerging from the crowd.

Alexia looked different in London - smaller somehow, less commanding than she did on a football pitch or even in her home city. She was dressed casually in dark jeans and a light sweater, a backpack slung over one shoulder, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. When she spotted YN, her face lit up with a smile that immediately eased some of the tension in YN's chest.

"You came," YN said as Alexia approached, the words coming out before they could stop them.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" Alexia's voice was warm, touched with amusement.

"I thought you might realize how crazy this is. Barcelona captain at an Arsenal match? Your own fans would probably disown you."

"Good thing I'm here as Alexia, not as Barcelona's captain," she replied, echoing YN's words from their invitation. "Besides, I've never been to Emirates Stadium. Professional curiosity."

As they made their way through London's morning traffic toward YN's penthouse, conversation flowed easily despite the underlying tension. Alexia was curious about everything - the architecture, the bustling streets, the differences between Barcelona and London. YN found themselves playing tour guide, pointing out landmarks and sharing stories about their city with unexpected enthusiasm.

"This is home," YN said as they pulled up to their building in Canary Wharf.

Alexia whistled low as they entered the lobby, her eyes taking in the sleek modern design. "Very impressive, counselor."

"It's too big for one person," YN admitted as they rode the elevator to the top floor. "But the view is incredible."

The penthouse was exactly as YN had described to themselves - beautiful, expensive, and somehow hollow despite all its luxury. Alexia moved through the space with careful attention, taking in the minimal decoration, the absence of personal photographs except for one small frame on the kitchen counter.

"Is this him?" she asked softly, approaching the single photo.

YN nodded, joining her in front of the image. It showed YN at fifteen, grinning widely beside their father outside Emirates Stadium, both wearing Arsenal scarves despite the summer weather.

"He looks proud," Alexia observed. "And you look happy."

"I was. We were." YN's voice was quiet. "That was the season Henry came back. Dad surprised me with season tickets for my sixteenth birthday a few months later."

Alexia studied the photo with the careful attention of someone who understood loss. "He would be proud of what you've built."

"Sometimes I'm not sure if I built it for him or for me."

"Maybe both," Alexia said gently. "Maybe that's okay."

They spent the afternoon walking through London, Alexia insisting on seeing the ordinary places that mattered to YN rather than tourist attractions. The café where YN grabbed coffee every morning before court, the bookshop where they browsed on rare free weekends, the small park where they sometimes sat when the penthouse felt too empty.

"You know a city differently when you live with grief in it," YN found themselves saying as they sat on a bench overlooking the Thames. "Every place becomes connected to what you've lost."

"But also to what you've survived," Alexia replied. "I see strength in the way you move through your world, YN. Purpose."

"Some days I feel strong. Other days I feel like I'm just going through the motions."

"I understand that feeling." Alexia's voice was soft with recognition. "After Papa died, football became both my salvation and my prison. The only place I felt connected to him, but also the place where his absence hurt most."

They sat in comfortable silence, watching boats move along the river. YN felt something settling between them - not just attraction or even friendship, but understanding. The recognition of shared experience, shared loss, shared questions about how to honor the dead while still living.

As evening approached, they made their way back to YN's building. Tomorrow was match day, and the weight of what YN had offered was beginning to settle over both of them.

"Are you nervous?" Alexia asked as they stood in YN's living room, the city lights beginning to twinkle beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Terrified," YN admitted. "I've never shared that space with anyone. What if it feels wrong? What if having you there somehow..."

"Changes it?" Alexia finished gently.

"Yes."

Alexia moved closer, close enough that YN could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. "Maybe change isn't always loss. Maybe sometimes it's growth."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one risking eight years of ritual."

"No," Alexia agreed. "But I'm the one being trusted with something sacred. Do you think I take that lightly?"

The question hung between them, and YN saw something in Alexia's expression that made their breath catch. This wasn't just about football or friendship or even growing attraction. This was about trust, vulnerability, the courage to let someone into the deepest parts of your grief.

"I know you don't," YN said quietly.

"Then trust that tomorrow will be what it needs to be. Trust that your father's love, your memories - they're not diminished by sharing them. They're honored."

The conviction in Alexia's voice, the careful way she spoke about YN's father despite never having met him, made something crack open in YN's chest. When was the last time someone had spoken about their grief with such understanding? When was the last time someone had seen their protective rituals as love rather than pathology?

"I should let you get some rest," YN said, though they made no move toward the guest room they'd prepared. "Tomorrow will be..."

"Intense," Alexia finished with a small smile.

"That's one word for it."

They stood there for a moment longer, the space between them charged with possibility and nerves and something deeper that neither was quite ready to name.

"YN," Alexia said as they finally began to move toward their respective rooms. "Thank you. For trusting me with this. I know what it means."

"Thank you for understanding what it means."

As YN lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling of their too-large bedroom, they thought about the photo on their kitchen counter. Their father's proud smile, their own unguarded happiness, the simple joy of sharing something you love with someone who matters.

Tomorrow, they would take Alexia to Emirates Stadium. Tomorrow, they would invite someone into the most sacred part of their grief. Tomorrow, they would risk changing the ritual that had sustained them for eight years.

But tonight, for the first time since their father's death, YN didn't feel like they were carrying their love and loss alone. Tonight, there was someone else in their space who understood the weight of memory, the complexity of honoring the dead while trying to live.

It felt terrifying and hopeful and absolutely right.

Some risks, YN was learning, weren't just worth taking - they were necessary for healing.

Even if you couldn't see the outcome until you were brave enough to take the step.

[oohtobeagooner]

The girl behind the counter | Kyra Cooney-Cross x Barista!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "Is it broken?"

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.8k

-----

Triblend Cafe was bustling. The cozy space you had created with your sisters, was filled with soft chatter from customers enjoying their morning coffee. Over the years your small shop had grown a lot, now you looked over the space proudly, watching a mix of regulars and new customers enjoy the place.

Your mind got pulled away by the soft ringing of the bell, signaling that a new customer entered the store. The second you saw who it was, your smile grew even wider. “Edward! It’s been too long!” You quickly get out from behind the corner to give him a hug. 

Edward was the first regular your shop had known. He used to live in the small apartment above the cafe, and would come down every day for a cup of coffee. No matter how many times you and your sister’s offered to give him a coffee on the house, he refused every single time, always saying something along the lines of wanting to help your business grow.

He was the sweetest man you had ever met. Recently he had to move out of the space above the cafe and move to an elderly home in the neighbourhood. It wasn’t every day anymore that he came in, but he tried to stop by at least once a week. Though, it had been closer to three weeks since you had last seen him. 

“It has been, darling.” He said fondly as you stepped away from hugging him again. “Now if my old brain isn’t tricking me, today should be Jess her day, right? Not that I don’t love seeing your face, of course.” You chuckle lightly at his words, you would never think he would mean anything badly, he didn’t have a negative bone in his body. “Old brain? You don’t have one of those. Aren’t you in your early fifties?” You joke back at him. “Very kind darling, but nearing eighties means I definitely have an old brain.” 

You loved talking with Edward, at this point he was like family to the three of you. “Well, Edward, you could’ve fooled me. It’s her day indeed, but one of her kids had to stay home with the flu, so I stepped in.”

From behind you, the bell dinged again. You turned its way to welcome the newest customers and smiled when you saw another pair of familiar faces. “Hi girls, I’ll be right with you.” You say to Katie and Caitlin entering. 

“Go help them dear, I'll go take a seat and catch up with you in a bit.” Edward put his hand on your arm for a second, giving it a light squeeze, before heading over to his favourite seat. The one where he could look out over the whole store.

“Hi girls, how are you? Back in your kits I see.” You knew they had a break from football, but seeing as they were now back in their training gear, the season must be starting again soon. “Yeah, we’re good. First training back today.” Caitlin answers. “And Kyra here is our newest signing, so we had to introduce her to your coffee, of course.” Katie added. 

You look behind them and see a third person in Arsenal colours. She smiles at you, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. Have they talked you into their favourite drinks yet, or would you like to go for something else?”

Kyra stepped forward, taking a closer look at the menu while you continued chatting with the girls. “Can I please have the triblend? It seems like that’s the main one with the name being on the building and all.” You recognise her accent instantly. “Very good choice, also did Caitlin kidnap you from Australia or did you come willingly?” She instantly laughs at your joke and you feel your cheeks flushing a little at how nice you found the sound of her laughter. 

After making the three of them their coffee’s to go, you make Edward’s and take it to him. “How have you been? What’s been keeping you away?” You ask, hopeful that nothing is wrong with his health. His growing smile quickly reassured you. “I’ve met a beautiful woman.” You sat down at his table instantly, “That’s amazing, tell me everything.”

You caught up with all the new updates in Edwards life between helping customers, patching the whole update together piece by piece. Ending the conversation by telling him he should bring her with him next time and that you would love to meet her.

—

Kyra walked into your shop again. Over the past few months she had often come in for a coffee with Katie and Caitlin on the way to practice or a game, but today she was on her own. “Good morning.” You say with a bright smile as she enters the cafe. 

She looks around her and sees the place is completely empty besides the two of you. “Hi, I really should’ve checked at what time you opened.” She chuckles lightly. “I hope I’m not too early.”

“I was just starting up, but you’re free to order anything you’d like.” You say, making your way behind the counter to start up the machine. “Oh, I’ll have whatever is easiest to make for you right now. I don’t mind, I just need some coffee to survive the day.” You chuckle at how dramatic she sounded.

Kyra puts down her suitcase next to a table and takes a seat near the counter. “If you don’t mind me asking, where are you off to?” You ask while walking over to the rack to grab a mug. The rack is filled with all different kinds of mugs, a collection you had put together over the years. 

“We have a pre-season camp in the US, and Caitlin is going to be picking me up soon.” She seemed excited to go, yet also sleepy since it was still so early. Despite her tiredness, she followed your every move with her eyes, following you while you got to work behind the counter. 

The two of you continued chatting while you were making her coffee, actually you opted for two and made the second for yourself. You placed Kyra’s in front of her, “I know you had the triblend last time, but I wanted to make you one of my favourites. I hope you like this one. Let me know if you don’t, I can make you something else.”

Kyra took a small sip and her eyes instantly met yours. “This is so good!” You blushed a little at the compliment before moving back to the counter. “Have you had breakfast?” She shook her head in response. “My sister baked some fresh croissants if you want some?” Kyra couldn’t say no, so there she was eating a delicious croissant and slowly sipping her new favourite coffee. 

You continued getting the cafe ready, while you were chatting with Kyra about her stay in London so far, and occasionally taking a sip of your own drink. It was actually quite nice having someone around to talk to while you set up for the day. You loved talking with your customers, always seeing them as either acquaintances or friends depending on how long you had known then. 

“Can I ask who the man was you were talking with the first time I came here?” She asked you, her voice sounding full of interest. “Yeah, of course, his name is Edward. He used to live in the apartment above the shop, and was our first customer. He used to come in every morning to get a coffee, never letting us give him one for free. Over the years he became like family to me and my sisters.” 

“That’s really sweet. I could tell you had a good bond with him. With others as well, it’s really nice to see how much you care about the people that come here and how you’re always up for a chat with everyone.” You blushed at her compliments. “Thank you, that means a lot.”

Talking to Kyra was easy, and you enjoyed the conversations you were having with her. You liked getting to know your second Australian customer, maybe a little more that you liked getting to know any of your other customers, but you wouldn’t say that out loud to anyone.

Her phone rang, and she quickly picked up when she saw the caller ID. You didn’t follow the conversation, but the moment she hung up, she quickly gathered her stuff and got up. Taking the coffee mug with her in her haste. You watched as she closed her eyes the moment she realised what was happening.

The mug fell onto the floor in a handful of pieces, along with the last bits of coffee spilling onto the floor. “Is it broken?” Kyra asked with her eyes still closed, too scared to look if she ruined a part of the store.

“It sure is, but that’s okay. It’s only a mug.” You say, already getting a rag ready, along with a dustpan. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to break it. Please let me pay for a replacement.” You’re quick to shake your head, “Don’t worry about it, it’s part of the job at this point. Plus I was looking forward to going thrift shopping for new additions to our shelf anyways.” 

This sparked an idea in Kyra’s mind. “Can I maybe take you thrift shopping after I get back? I would love to pay for your replacement even if you say you don’t want me to.” You smiled, “That sounds like fun.” 

Kyra’s phone rang again. “Ehm it’s Caitlin again, I’m so sorry.” You shake your head with a laugh. “Go, your taxi is waiting. Come by when you get back and we can plan our thrift shop date.” Now Kyra was the one blushing. “Yeah, I’d like that. Sorry again, next time I’ll clean up myself, I promise.” 

“Oh you’re good, don’t worry about it.” You tell her, “Have fun in the US, and I can’t wait to hear about your time there when you get back. Say hello to Caitlin and Katie for me, will you?”

“I will, thank you again.” Kyra said before rushing to the door. You chuckle watching her clumsily pull her luggage around in her haste, not wanting to be any later to meet Caitlin in the car. Knowing she would probably never hear the end of it. 

You got back to work, customers started to flow in more and more, but all you could keep thinking back to was your morning with Kyra and how you’d go on a date with her once she came back.

-----

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[oohtobeagooner]

Let’s Play Pretend (One-shot)

Pairing (Alexia Putellas x Reader / BarcaFemeni x Reader)

Summary: When a FC Barcelona charity scavenger hunt pairs you with six of Barca Femeni’s players, you don’t expect the chaos. Or a bookstore moment. Or the way Alexia keeps catching your eye — and then not looking away.

Featuring: Caroline Graham Hansen, Irene Paredes, Jana Fernandez, Mapi Leon & Marta Torrejon.

Word count: > 15k

————————————————————————

Barcelona in spring was made for chaos.

Mild sun. Restless breeze. People on rollerblades. Dogs off leashes. Music from somewhere — always somewhere — bleeding into the hum of traffic and secondhand espresso breath.

You adjusted the hem of your volunteer-issued T-shirt — bright coral with FCB Fundació Scavenger Hunt 2025 printed across the chest — and tried not to sweat through your tote bag strap.

Your phone buzzed again.

Dani 🧍🏽‍♀️

don’t kill me

but I really can’t make it

flu + toddler = mutual destruction

pls don’t hate me

You stared at it. Blinked. Stared again.

Then sighed.

“Brutal,” you muttered under your breath, glancing up at the check-in booth. A volunteer with a clipboard smiled too brightly and gestured for the next person. You took a reluctant step forward.

It had seemed like a cute idea. A charity scavenger hunt hosted by FC Barcelona — proceeds to local schools, with mixed teams of fans, players, and community volunteers. Something wholesome. Team-building. Cultural immersion. You were new to Barcelona. You were a product manager with a flexible calendar. You were very much in your “say yes to things” expat era.

And now?

Now you were alone in a group-based citywide game show with no backup, no clue, and an aggressively cheerful shirt.

Perfect.

————

“Hi!” the clipboard girl beamed. “Team name?”

You paused. “Uh. I don’t really… have one. My teammate dropped out last minute.”

She blinked. Flipped through pages. “You registered as ‘Codependents in Catalonia.’”

You winced. “That sounds like Dani.”

“No worries! We’ll just pop you into a group that needs one more.” She scribbled something down, then looked up again. “Are you cool being grouped with, um, high-profile participants?”

You shrugged. “I guess?”

“Great! You’re Team FCB. Head to the blue tent over there and look for the clipboard with your team name on it. Good luck!”

You thanked her, already regretting every decision you’d made since agreeing to this.

————

The blue tent was more of a canopy, half-collapsed under the breeze, with a banner that read Team FCB in a marker-thick scrawl.

And there — huddled around a clue sheet — were six women in athletic gear, designer sunglasses, and various shades of amused detachment.

You recognized them instantly.

Alexia Putellas.

Irene Paredes.

Caroline Graham Hansen.

Marta Torrejón.

Mapi León.

Jana Fernández.

Every Barça Femeni highlight reel you’d ever seen came rushing back to you like a montage. And yet, here they were, standing in casual sweats and arguing about whether a particular street counted as “historically Gothic.”

“Oh no,” you whispered.

Alexia looked up.

Met your eyes.

Smiled — just faintly.

You froze.

Then walked forward like you weren’t having a small, contained identity crisis.

“Hi,” you said, too brightly. “Apparently I’ve been adopted into your team. Hope that’s alright.”

Jana was the first to speak. “Oh my god, we’re seven now! Lucky number.”

Mapi narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Are you… press?”

You blinked. “What? No. Product manager. Tech stuff.”

“Still sus,” she muttered.

“Ignore her,” Marta said with a smirk. “You speak Catalan?”

“Enough to order wine and fake confidence.”

Caroline laughed softly. “That’s all you need, really.”

Irene extended a hand. “I’m Irene. This is chaos, but you’re welcome to it.”

You shook her hand, heart thudding.

And then Alexia spoke.

“New to the city?” she asked, voice low, amused.

You nodded. “How’d you guess?”

“You’re wearing sunscreen.”

The team chuckled. You flushed.

Alexia held your gaze for just a beat longer than necessary. Then turned back to the clue sheet like it was nothing.

Like you hadn’t just melted slightly into your sneakers.

“Alright!” Jana clapped. “Clue one: Find the first mural by the artist who signs with a tiny eggplant emoji.”

Mapi groaned. “Not Eggplant Bansky. We’ll be here all day.”

Caroline snapped a photo of the clue and said, “Let’s move.”

As the group began walking, you found yourself next to Alexia.

She looked over, expression unreadable, and said, “You’re very brave.”

“For joining your team?”

“No.”

She smirked.

“For pretending you don’t know who we are.”

————

The map was upside down. Or maybe Barcelona was just showing off.

Irene swore they were supposed to take a left at Carrer de la Cera. Mapi insisted the mural had been painted over. Marta said nothing, but the look on her face screamed, We’re losing, aren’t we?

You, new and mildly sunburned, trailed a few paces behind the group, sipping from a reusable water bottle and watching the scene unfold like it was reality TV.

“This is absurd,” Caroline muttered beside you. “We’re professional athletes. How are we being outsmarted by a spray-painted emoji?”

“An emoji and a clue written by a teenager on Red Bull,” you corrected.

She snorted. “Touché.”

————

The hunt had barely been underway an hour, and you were already learning important things:

Mapi had the energy of a TikTok account no one over 30 should be allowed to follow.

Jana was way too good at making strangers pose for group selfies.

Caroline was the dry-witted sniper of the group, mostly quiet but lethal when she chose to speak.

Marta kept a running list of everyone’s most “inefficient decisions” on her Notes app.

Irene treated every detour like a Champions League match.

Alexia, despite doing very little to draw attention to herself, seemed to be quietly orbiting you.

She walked just close enough for your elbow to register her warmth. Asked you things no one else did — where you were from, how long you’d been in Barcelona, why you chose this city when you clearly weren’t Catalan.

You told her the truth.

You came here for a job. Stayed for the late dinners. The freedom. The way nobody knew who you were — and for once, that felt like peace.

Alexia nodded thoughtfully at that.

“I get it,” she’d said. “Sometimes it’s nice to feel like a blank page.”

You’d agreed. You didn’t tell her she made you feel more like a highlighted paragraph.

————

Eventually, you found the mural.

It was wedged between a bakery and a motorbike repair shop — a rough sketch of a moon with two legs and a tiny eggplant in the corner. Jana screamed. Mapi fist-pumped. Irene immediately scanned the next QR clue and began dictating it like it was a government memo.

You snapped the required team selfie. Caroline held the camera.

Alexia leaned in close, chin near your shoulder.

Click.

The photo came out blurry.

You all decided it was perfect.

————

Next stop was the Boqueria.

Clue #3: Find the vendor who makes the “Maradona of mango smoothies.” Bonus points if he remembers your name.

You were sent ahead with Alexia and Jana.

“Tag team,” Irene said, like you were off to steal national secrets.

Jana led the charge. Alexia walked beside you again, shoulders almost touching.

“She’s having fun,” you said, gesturing toward Jana up ahead.

“She always does,” Alexia replied. “But especially when she’s not the youngest in the group for once.”

You raised a brow. “Is that me?”

Alexia grinned. “You tell me.”

You paused. “I’m twenty-nine.”

She smirked. “Old enough to lie convincingly.”

“And you?”

“Old enough to know better,” she said smoothly.

You reached the smoothie stand.

The vendor recognized Alexia immediately and offered her a free drink.

She shook her head. “Only if you remember my name.”

He squinted dramatically. “Marta?”

She burst out laughing.

You nudged her with your elbow. “Brutal.”

She looked at you, eyes crinkling. “You remember my name, though.”

“Hard to forget.”

She blinked once. Held your gaze. Said nothing.

Then turned to order the drinks.

Your heart absolutely betrayed you.

————

Back at the group checkpoint, Mapi was yelling about losing rock-paper-scissors to a child and demanding a rematch.

Marta sighed. Caroline filmed it all.

You handed Irene the smoothie as proof. She nodded in approval. Jana offered you a conspiratorial thumbs-up.

Alexia didn’t say anything when she returned, but she handed you a second smoothie.

“You didn’t ask,” she said, “but I figured you’d want one.”

You blinked. “Why?”

She sipped her own. Shrugged.

“You don’t seem like someone who’d share easily.”

————

The next clue read like the beginning of a mystery novel:

Seek the oldest pages in the Born,

where stories live and time is worn.

Find the volume with no spine,

and trade a fact for your next sign.

“Library?” Jana guessed.

“Bookstore,” Irene corrected. “There’s an old one near Carrer dels Flassaders. Specializes in rare Catalan prints.”

“You just know that?” you asked.

“She’s like the human version of Google,” Mapi said flatly. “If Google had better abs.”

————

The shop didn’t even have a sign outside.

Just a dark wood door, propped slightly open, and the smell of paper so old it might’ve remembered Franco.

You offered to go with someone.

Alexia said, “I’ll come.”

No debate. No glances exchanged.

Just her voice. Sure and simple.

Inside, the shop was barely lit — thin skylight, amber desk lamp, dust hanging like punctuation in the air. Floor-to-ceiling shelves towered with mismatched books. Everything smelled like parchment and coffee-stained secrets.

“Wow,” you whispered.

Alexia didn’t say anything at first. Just looked around slowly, fingers trailing the edge of a shelf like she’d been here before — in another life, maybe.

You turned toward the clue.

“Find the volume with no spine,” you murmured.

“Over there,” she said, already walking.

Tucked into the poetry section, between a weathered Foix collection and an unlabeled red journal, was a stack of old papers bound with string — no spine. No cover. Just yellowed edges and a handwritten title.

You picked it up carefully.

Inside was a folded card.

Clue #5: Tell the bookseller your favorite line of poetry. If he approves, he’ll hand you your next location.

You glanced at Alexia. “You go first.”

She smiled. “Too predictable. You do it.”

“I’m not poetic.”

“That’s alright,” she said, tilting her head. “I like seeing what people reach for when no one’s watching.”

The bookseller listened patiently as you recited the only thing you could think of:

“You do not have to be good.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”

He stared.

Then nodded.

Handed you a gold-embossed envelope without a word.

Alexia murmured, “Mary Oliver?”

You blushed. “Yeah.”

“That’s your favorite?”

“No. It’s just the only one I remembered in the moment.”

She nodded once, like she didn’t believe you — and like she did at the same time.

When you turned back toward the door, it was shut.

You reached for the handle.

It didn’t budge.

Alexia tried next. Nothing.

You exchanged a look.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you whispered.

“Let me guess,” Alexia deadpanned. “You get locked in a lot of places with women you’re pretending not to be into?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

She smiled faintly. “That wasn’t a denial.”

————

Ten minutes passed. You sat on the floor beside the travel section. She joined you, her shoulder just grazing yours.

Outside, muffled voices. Jana shouting something. Mapi laughing.

You pulled your knees in. “So. This is… surreal.”

“The bookstore, or the company?”

You smirked. “Both.”

A beat.

Then softer: “Why are you here?”

She tilted her head.

“I mean — this event. You’re not exactly low-profile.”

She exhaled. “Mapi made me sign up. Said I was being boring.”

“Were you?”

“Maybe.”

“Still are,” you said, nudging her.

She laughed under her breath. “And you? What’s a product manager doing in a city-wide obstacle course?”

“Honestly? I’m trying to unlearn spreadsheets.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow.

“I’m tired of being efficient,” you said. “I want to be surprised again.”

She was quiet.

Then: “And have you been?”

You looked at her. She was close. Closer than before. Not leaning in — not yet. But her eyes were on yours.

“Yes,” you said.

She didn’t move.

Neither did you.

Then a loud bang from outside, followed by a cheer. The door clicked open.

Mapi burst in. “We knew it! You two have zero urgency!”

Jana peeked in behind her. “Did you kiss?!”

Alexia stood up like nothing happened.

You followed, heart in your throat.

“No kissing,” Alexia said evenly, walking past them.

“But plenty of urgency,” she added with a wink — just for you.

————

By the time the team stumbled into a shaded garden tucked behind Sant Antoni Market, the city had shifted into its slow, golden hour.

A row of food trucks flanked the gravel courtyard — empanadas, grilled artichokes, fancy jamón sandwiches. The kind of place where you ordered with your hands, paid with a smile, and were handed a glass of wine before you finished your sentence.

You collapsed onto a wooden bench, breathless.

“I would die for a tortilla right now,” Mapi announced, flopping beside you dramatically.

“Maybe don’t say that in front of the nutritionist,” Marta said, scanning the menu board.

Caroline had wandered off with her GoPro again, presumably to document local pigeons.

Jana was trying to teach Irene how to order “like a Gen Z” (Irene looked physically pained).

Alexia appeared behind you quietly.

“Hungry?”

You looked up. “Starving.”

“Come on, then,” she said. “Let me buy your very first tortilla in Barcelona.”

You smiled. “This isn’t my first.”

“I know,” she replied. “But it’ll be your favorite.”

————

You stood beside her in line, awkwardly aware of how your elbow brushed hers every time she shifted. She ordered in perfect Catalan — smooth, crisp vowels, no hesitation.

The vendor handed her two plates. She nodded a thanks, then turned to you.

“I wasn’t joking,” she said. “This one’s good.”

You took a bite.

It was.

But not as distracting as the way Alexia sat across from you at the picnic table and watched you eat like she was committing the moment to memory.

“So,” Mapi said loudly, rejoining you. “Tell me something.”

You blinked. “Uh-oh.”

“Do you actually not know who she is?” she asked, jerking a thumb toward Alexia.

“Mapi—” Alexia warned.

“What? It’s a fair question!”

You sipped your wine carefully. “Of course I know who she is.”

Jana gasped. “So you lied?”

“I didn’t lie,” you said calmly. “I just didn’t announce it.”

“That’s suspicious behavior,” Irene chimed in, stealing half of Mapi’s tortilla.

“She’s clearly a spy,” Caroline added from across the table. “Sent by Real to destabilize us.”

Alexia smirked. “She’s not that subtle.”

You locked eyes with her.

Something flickered there — amusement, yes. But something else, too.

Recognition.

————

Later, when the group had fanned out across the courtyard, you sat back with your drink and watched the city hum around you.

Alexia slid into the seat beside you, close enough to feel the heat of her thigh against yours.

“You’re handling this well,” she murmured.

“This?”

“My friends. Their curiosity.”

You glanced at her. “Are they always like this?”

“Only when they’re trying to figure out who I like.”

Your heart stumbled.

“Oh,” you said quietly.

She didn’t correct herself.

Didn’t fill the silence.

Just looked at you like she was waiting for you to decide what to do with that sentence.

You didn’t. Not yet.

————

Mapi returned moments later and dropped something onto the table between you.

A folded napkin. On it:

“Clue #6 – La Ciutadella calls. The mime awaits.”

You stared at it.

Alexia groaned.

Mapi grinned. “Time to bribe a mime.”

————

Parc de la Ciutadella was awash in honey light and chaos.

Skaters dodged toddlers. Street musicians played in three different keys. Couples lounged on the grass in half-buttoned shirts and tangled limbs. The air smelled like gelato and grass and warm pavement.

And in the center of it all, a mime stood completely still.

White face paint. Black suspenders. Deadpan stare. And in his gloved hands:

An envelope marked Team FCB.

You stood next to Mapi, arms crossed.

“So,” you said, “what’s your plan?”

Mapi cracked her knuckles. “Negotiation.”

Jana, filming on her phone, whispered, “This is either going to be genius or a war crime.”

Mapi walked up to the mime. Bowed dramatically. Offered a chocolate bar.

He didn’t move.

She tried a coin. A wink. A floss dance.

Nothing.

Then she held up a hand mirror and fixed her hair in front of him, loudly announcing, “I’d also be silent if I had those eyebrows.”

The mime blinked. Smiled. Handed her the envelope.

She turned and held it in the air like a trophy.

“Diplomacy,” she said proudly.

“Blackmail,” Irene corrected.

————

The clue was a bit more cryptic this time:

Find the rooftop that once housed pigeons,

now strung with bulbs and secret missions.

There, a lockbox waits with two keys —

one to open, and one to see.

“Sounds like the old art school,” Caroline guessed.

“You sure?” Alexia asked.

Caroline held up her phone. “I did a docuseries here last year. That terrace has string lights and a rep for after-hours events.”

“Convenient,” you muttered.

Alexia grinned. “Scared of heights?”

“Scared of metaphors.”

————

The rooftop was three flights up and only slightly structurally questionable.

Wooden slats. Hanging bulbs. A few deck chairs. An old mural half-faded on one wall. A view of the city that felt too generous for how casually it was shared.

Jana found the lockbox under a crate of succulents. Irene opened it with the first key inside.

But the second?

Was just a disposable camera.

Mapi groaned. “Seriously?”

Alexia picked it up. “The note says: Take the photo you’ll regret not taking later.”

Everyone looked around awkwardly.

Jana posed dramatically against the skyline. Caroline took a fake paparazzi shot of Marta. Mapi pretended to propose to Irene (who did not play along).

You leaned back against the railing, watching them laugh. Warm light everywhere.

Then you felt her beside you.

Alexia.

She held the camera up. “Can I?”

You blinked. “Of me?”

“No,” she said softly. “Of this.”

You didn’t move. Just nodded.

She took the photo.

Then hesitated.

Lowered the camera.

And looked at you — really looked at you — like maybe this was the part of the clue that mattered more.

“I’ve had fun today,” she said.

“Same.”

“But you’re hard to read.”

You smiled faintly. “That’s because I’m trying not to say something stupid.”

She tilted her head. “Like what?”

You turned toward her. “Like how this might be the best I’ve felt since I moved here.”

Alexia’s gaze dropped to your mouth. Then back to your eyes.

“Not stupid,” she said quietly.

Then, just loud enough for you to hear:

“Take the photo you’ll regret not taking later.”

You blinked. “What?”

But she didn’t answer.

She just leaned in.

And this time — no clues.

No crowd.

Just the rooftop. The bulbs. The silence.

And her kiss.

———-

You didn’t talk about the kiss.

Not immediately.

Mapi burst through the rooftop exit moments later shouting, “LAST CLUE’S LIVE!” with all the subtlety of a stadium flare.

You and Alexia jumped apart — not guiltily, just instinctively — as if the city had returned too quickly and you weren’t ready to give it your attention.

Jana snatched the final clue from the envelope like a kid at Christmas.

Sunset waits at the arch of the park,

where iron meets sky and laughter lingers.

Bring your team. Bring your smiles.

Take one last photo — and make it count.

————

The walk to Arc de Triomf was warm and golden.

Caroline queued a playlist. Mapi tried to make everyone rank their “Top 3 Barça kit disasters.” Marta ignored her. Irene debated a child over who was faster. Jana skipped ahead, camera in hand, declaring every five steps, “This is giving cinematic climax!”

Alexia walked beside you quietly, your arms brushing.

She didn’t say anything about the kiss either.

But once — just once — she reached over and adjusted the edge of your sleeve where it had rolled, fingers slow and certain. Like she wasn’t asking permission. Like she already had it.

The arch was flooded with people.

Other scavenger teams. Tourists. Rollerbladers. Sunset photographers. The final check-in tent sat just beyond it — a small white booth framed by string lights and confetti cannons that had clearly gone off too early.

Your team lined up on the paved walkway for the last photo. A volunteer aimed the Polaroid camera.

Alexia stood next to you.

No stage directions. No cue.

She just reached for your hand.

You let her.

The camera clicked.

————

Afterward, while the others collected their goodie bags and shouted plans for post-hunt tapas, you slipped away from the crowd. Just a few paces — to the edge of the plaza, where the sky looked like orange rind and watercolor.

Alexia followed.

“Hola,” she said.

“Hola.”

You smiled. She did too.

Then, without ceremony, she pulled something from her pocket and handed it to you.

It was a folded clue card. One of the earlier ones — the bookstore one, now smudged and bent.

You turned it over.

On the back, in clean, looping script:

You were a surprisingly good teammate.

Want to try something harder?

Like a second date?

— A.

📱 +34 XXX XXX XXX

You laughed.

Then looked up.

Alexia was already watching you. Waiting.

You didn’t hesitate.

You pulled your phone from your bag, opened a new message, and typed:

Best clue of the day.

Then hit send.

Alexia’s phone buzzed in her pocket.

She didn’t need to check it.

She just smiled wider.

————

The afterparty wasn’t loud — not in the way parties usually were.

It was low tables and higher laughter, plastic cups filled with surprisingly decent wine, and a Spotify playlist that shifted between reggaeton and old Shakira deep cuts. Someone’s toddler was dancing near the snacks. Mapi tried to start a limbo contest. Marta politely declined all existence of games.

You sat on a bench under string lights, still wearing the coral T-shirt, sipping a red that tasted like cherries and maybe adrenaline. The ache in your calves from running all over the city hadn’t quite caught up to you yet. But something else had.

Alexia.

She appeared beside you without announcement. No dramatic entrance. No lingering tension. Just a quiet slide onto the bench like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ve had worse Saturdays,” she said, nudging your knee with hers.

You smiled. “You’ve probably had better ones, too.”

“Maybe.” She took a sip from your cup without asking. “But none with mimes, bookstore lock-ins, and fake tourists who turned out to be very real.”

You chuckled. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m not,” she said, looking at you. “I liked the pretending.”

“You did?”

She nodded. “People usually recognize me. And treat me like… an answer to a trivia question.”

You tilted your head. “And I didn’t?”

“You didn’t flinch,” she said. “Even when you did recognize me. You just… played along.”

“Is that why you kissed me?”

She smirked. “That, and you said something about wanting to be surprised again.”

You laughed into your wine.

————

The party started to wind down. Players drifted out. Irene offered a sleepy wave. Mapi yelled, “Text me when you’re famous!” to no one in particular. Caroline gave you a long, unreadable look and then a surprisingly sincere thumbs-up.

And then it was just you and Alexia, still sitting under the lights.

She glanced at you sideways.

“You’ll text me, right?” she asked.

You pulled out your phone and showed her the screen — her number already in your contacts, already starred.

She smiled.

And then — without the pressure of the game, the crowd, or the pretense — she leaned in and kissed you again.

It was slower this time. Certain.

No clues. No timer. No game.

Just her mouth on yours, and the feeling that maybe — just maybe — you had won something after all.

————————————————————————

[oohtobeagooner]

Part 4

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

Wordcount: 6k

“Do you want to come in?” you asked quietly, unsure if it was too much, too soon, but already knowing your answer.

Alexia didn’t answer right away. Her gaze searched yours for the briefest moment, then she nodded once, slow, deliberate. “If you want me to.”

You reached for her hand, fingers curling gently around hers as you stepped backwards, guiding her into the room behind you.

She followed.

The soft click of the door behind you hushed the world outside. The room was dim, only the warm glow of the bedside lamp casting golden light across the bed, the edge of the armchair, the curtains that still swayed slightly from the open balcony doors. The air held the faintest scent of your perfume and something floral from the wedding.

You led Alexia inside without saying anything, still holding her hand, your fingers laced like you didn’t want to let go. Neither of you moved quickly everything was slow now, a quiet hum beneath your skin, tension and curiosity and want woven together.

She looked around the room briefly, then back at you, like she was seeing it through you anyway. You stopped near the bed, turned to face her, your hands still joined between you.

Alexia stepped closer, the tip of her shoe brushing yours.

“You okay?” she asked gently, her thumb brushing across your knuckles. It was an honest question, not just a pause before a kiss.

You nodded. “Yeah. Are you?”

Her smile was soft. “I’m very okay.”

You both laughed under your breath. The kind of nervous laugh that comes right before something new.

You let go of her hand only to reach up, your fingers smoothing over her lapel, then sliding up to her shoulder, your palm resting against the side of her neck. Her skin was warm, she leaned into it just slightly, just enough.

“I liked today,” you said quietly.

Alexia’s voice was barely a whisper. “I like you.”

That did it.

You kissed her again, this time slower than on the dance floor no audience, no music. Just breath, just mouths finding each other, more tender this time, more deliberate. Her hands found your waist and yours curled behind her neck. She pulled you closer, but not too fast. Like she was learning every inch of how you fit.

She tasted like red wine and mint and something uniquely her. When your lips parted slightly and the kiss deepened, your fingers slipped into her hair without thinking. She sighed against your mouth like she’d been waiting for that all night.

When you broke the kiss, your foreheads touched, both of you still catching your breath.

“Do you want to stay?” you whispered, not out of insecurity but wanting her to know it was up to her.

Alexia didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes.”

It was that simple. You kissed her again as her jacket slid off her shoulders, as your fingers trailed over the bare skin of her arms. The night wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t wild, it was slow, sweet, the quiet kind of intimacy that felt like turning a page you both wanted to read together.

And for the first time, with no boat, no team, no teasing friends it was just you and her.

Alexia’s fingers trailed lightly down your arms as she looked at you, her gaze soft but intent. You stood facing her, she reached for your hand first, raising it to her lips for a gentle kiss, her eyes never leaving yours. Then, with slow certainty, her hands slid to your waist.

"May I?" she asked, voice quiet but steady.

You nodded, your breath catching a little, her fingers found the small zipper at your back. The sound of it being undone was barely audible over the gentle breeze outside, but it made your heart thump louder. She moved slowly, delicately, as though the dress were something fragile or maybe it was the moment she didn’t want to break.

As the fabric loosened at your shoulders, her hands brushed your skin, making goosebumps rise in their wake. She let the sleeves slide down your arms, letting the dress fall gradually, reverently. It pooled at your feet, and for a long moment, neither of you said a word.

Alexia’s hands came to rest lightly on your sides. Her touch was warm, steadying. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, her voice low near your skin. “You’re beautiful.”

You smiled, your cheeks warm, a quiet rush moving through your chest as you gently pulled her closer.

Your fingers found the first button of Alexia’s shirt, and with a soft breath, you began working your way down. Each button undone revealed a little more of her, the soft dip of her collarbone, the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

Alexia didn’t rush you. She stood close, her hands resting lightly on your hips, her eyes warm as they held yours. But the moment her shirt started to loosen, she leaned in placing a gentle kiss just below your jaw.

You smiled, your fingers pausing. “That tickled,” you whispered.

Her only reply was a soft chuckle as her lips moved lower, to the curve of your neck. You continued unbuttoning, a little slower now, distracted by the trail of kisses she was leaving her lips finding your shoulder, your collarbone, and the space just beneath your ear. Each kiss was featherlight, deliberate, like she was memorising you inch by inch.

As her shirt slipped from her shoulders, your hands traced over her back, the skin warm beneath your touch. She pulled back just enough to look at you, really look, before brushing her nose against yours with a grin.

“You make me nervous,” she said, her voice playful but honest.

You tilted your head. “Me?”

Alexia nodded. “Yes, but… in good way. Like before a big game.”

You grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss to her chest, just over her heart. “Then I must be special.”

“You are,” she said simply.

Your hands lingered just above the waistband of Alexia’s trousers, fingertips brushing the soft fabric as you toyed with the button, you weren’t in a rush the tension was delicious, but so was the quiet, teasing energy that had built between you.

Alexia’s eyes flicked between your hands and your face as she bit down on her bottom lip, smirking. The tension between you thick with anticipation, but still playful still you and her, the corner of her mouth curved into a crooked smile one that made your stomach flip and you could see something forming behind her eyes, she shifted slightly, her hands brushing along your waist as she tried to stay composed. You could tell she was trying to say something bold it was in the way her mouth curved, the way her brows furrowed just a touch as she searched for the words.

Alexia’s breath hitched almost subtly, her hands sliding along your waist, eyes flickering down to where your fingers paused. There was a playful glint in her expression, one you were starting to know well. Mischief mixed with affection. “I am…” she began, clearly trying to find the right words in English, her accent a little thicker with the moment. Her smile widened as she looked at your hands still at her waistband. “I am ready for… you to make the strip?”

You blinked. “Sorry?” you said, biting your lip to stifle a laugh.

She furrowed her brows, concentrating. “No… like… you take off my pants. Sexy.” She gestured vaguely down her body with a serious nod, as if that helped.

“Oh my god,” you laughed, dropping your forehead to her shoulder as she groaned, clearly knowing she’d said it wrong now.

“I mean… I mean you can do it. If you want. The… taking off. You make the undress.”

You leaned back, grinning up at her. “You are butchering English right now.”

She gave you an exaggerated sigh, hiding her face in your neck. “I was trying to be sexy.”

“You were,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around her, “Just maybe not how you meant to be.”

She pulled back with a smile, eyes crinkling. “Still, you not stop touching me.”

You shrugged, fingers brushing the button again, teasing. “True. Maybe I like your awkward charm.”

“Maybe you like me a lot,” she said, grinning wider.

You gave her a look. “Maybe I do.”

Her hand came up to cup your face gently. “Even when I say the wrong sexy words?”

You kissed her softly. “Especially then.”

“I try to be sexy,” she huffed, clearly trying to stay annoyed but failing as she smiled again.

You leaned in, your lips brushing her cheek. “You don’t even have to try.” Her breath hitched just a little at that, you grinned, your hands still resting at her waistband “And you were,” you teased. “Just… not with the right words.”

She pulled back enough to pout at you. “Then help me say it better.”

You brushed your lips across hers, barely a kiss. “Maybe later,” you whispered. “If you’re good.”

Alexia’s smile returned, playful and defiant. “I’m always good.”

You arched a brow. “Well, now that’s up for debate.” You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head, your forehead leaning gently against hers “Maybe just say it in Spanish. I won’t understand it, but I have a feeling it’ll still have the same effect on me your after.”

Alexia let out a soft laugh, her cheeks pink, but her eyes dark with amusement and something else something warmer, deeper. She leaned in again, her lips brushing against your ear.

She murmured something soft, slow, completely in Spanish. You didn’t have a clue what the words meant, but her voice, her tone, the way her hands found your waist and held you just a little tighter, it sent a spark right through you.

You exhaled a breathy laugh. “Yeah… that’ll do.”

She smiled smugly, pressing her forehead to yours. “Better?”

You nodded, heart thudding. “Much.”

Alexia’s hands slid down your sides, fingers splaying over your hips as she leaned in to kiss you again slow, deep, and full of anticipation. Her hands gripped just beneath your arse, and without so much as a warning, she lifted you effortlessly. You let out a surprised breath, instinctively wrapping your arms around her shoulders, your legs around her waist.

She carried you the short distance to the small desk by the window, one of those odd hotel furniture pieces that never quite seemed to serve a purpose, before sitting you gently on the cool surface. Her hands settled on either side of you, fingers brushing your thighs as her body slotted between them, the warmth of her skin radiating into yours.

Your kiss resumed, more heated now, your mouths finding a rhythm as the press of her against you felt more urgent. Her lips moved from yours to your jaw, down your neck, making your skin prickle and your stomach tighten.

It was slow but electric hands moving tentatively over new skin, lingering at the curve of a waist, the line of a back. There was a gentle kind of wonder in it, both of you discovering each other not in rushed desperation, but with careful reverence.

Alexia’s hands paused briefly on your sides, her breath uneven against your collarbone. She pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You okay?” she asked softly, her accent curling around the words, her thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin.

You nodded, smiling, your fingertips running across her ribs. “More than okay.”

The look she gave you in return, tender, a little awestruck said everything. This wasn’t just desire. It was something gentler underneath, something real, either of you said it yet, but it was there.

Your breath hitched as Alexia's lips trailed from your mouth down the line of your jaw, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. Her hands, steady and warm, rested at your waist before sliding up your back, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine through the fabric of your bra, unclasping it with ease before discarding it.

The soft, deliberate way she moved made you melt into her, your hands anchoring at her hips as she leaned in closer, the press of her body familiar now yet still new in a way that made your skin buzz with anticipation.

Her mouth reached the top of your chest, her kisses becoming slower, more thoughtful. She wasn’t rushing, there was something in the way she touched you, careful, focused, like she was learning you one kiss at a time. You tilted your head back slightly, letting out a soft exhale as her fingers swept lightly along your ribcage, thumbs brushing just under the edge of your breast.

You whispered her name without thinking, half warning, half plea and she paused to meet your eyes.

"You tell me to stop, okay?" she said, her voice lower, her accent thicker now.

You nodded, heart thudding, fingers threading into her hair gently as your forehead pressed to hers. “I don’t want you to.”

That was all she needed. Her lips returned to your skin, slow and purposeful, as her hands explored more bravely now never rushing, never pushing, just touching, learning, offering.

Her hand was cradled your thigh gently. She kissed your shoulder, her voice hushed against your skin. “Okay?” she asked again, always checking.

You nodded, too breathless to say much, your body already humming with the anticipation she’d so carefully built. Her fingers trailed along the inside of your thigh, patient, exploratory, making your skin tighten with heat. When she finally touched you properly, your hips twitched, breath catching.

It wasn’t rushed it was reverent. Like she was mapping you out by instinct, watching every shift in your face, every sound that escaped you, responding with even more care. The strokes were slow at first, gentle, as though she wanted to give you time to feel every ounce of what she was offering.

Your hands found her shoulder, gripping gently for anchor as the sensations began to build. It was impossible to stay quiet—your breath came quicker, your body arching under her touch as a low moan slipped out before you could stop it.

She kissed the corner of your mouth, whispering something in Spanish you didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter. The way she said it, how her lips brushed your skin every bit of it felt like worship. The rhythm of her fingers deepened, her free hand gently holding your hand as your thighs tightened around her.

It crested slowly waves of pleasure tightening your core until it swept over you completely. Your back arched, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp as the tension broke, release washing over you in pulsing waves. Alexia didn’t stop right away she guided you through it, steady and soft, until the tremors faded and you lay, spent and blinking at the ceiling.

She didn’t ask for praise. She just rested her forehead to yours, brushing back a strand of hair as you caught your breath, still dazed, “Estás bien?” she murmured, voice thick with affection.

You let out a laugh, shaky and breathless, pulling her in for a kiss, “More than fine.”

She kissed you like she didn’t want to come up for air, like she couldn’t quite believe you were real and here with her. Her hands slid down to the backs of your thighs, and in one smooth motion, she lifted you from the desk as though it was nothing.

You gasped against her lips, arms winding around her neck instinctively, legs curling around her waist yet again. The way she held you effortlessly strong, gentle but unshakable made something flutter low in your stomach.

She laughed softly at the sound you made, her forehead resting briefly against yours, she turned and carried you the few steps across the room, lowering you slowly onto the bed, her hands never leaving your skin. She looked down at you for a moment, soaking you in eyes flickering over your flushed cheeks, your lips, the curve of your body resting against the covers. There was something soft and reverent in her expression, like she was taking in every detail.

Then she joined you, sliding over you, her body warm and close, her lips brushing yours again. You kissed slowly, deeper this time, the kind of kiss that told you everything she didn’t say out loud. Her hands found yours, fingers lacing together, grounding you both in this moment just the two of you, nothing else.

You and Alexia moved together, hands roaming, exploring familiar shapes that still felt new in this closeness. The room was quiet aside from the soft sounds you made breaths that hitched, whispered names, the occasional stuttered laugh when touches surprised or delighted. Especially when you'd rolled to your side and she took the chance to smack your ass, "Cheeky" you muttered against her lips.

Your bodies shifted, tangled, equal in rhythm and want. There was something natural about it, like you'd both instinctively known how to match the other. You pressed closer, breath catching as her hands moved, nothing rushed, nothing forced, just the two of you reading each other like your bodies spoke a language all their own.

Her forehead rested against yours as you held each other through it tension building and rising in tandem, like waves threatening to crest at the same time. You could feel her heartbeat thudding against your chest, mirroring your own. The connection between you sparked, deep and overwhelming.

Then it hit together, not loud or dramatic, just an overwhelming rush of warmth and relief and closeness. You both stilled, clutching at each other, riding the moment out with soft gasps and shaky laughs. Your eyes were still closed when you felt her lips brush your temple, her body pressing gently into yours like she never wanted to let you go and maybe you didn’t want her to, either.

☀️

Alexia’s arm draped over your waist, her hand lazily tracing the curve of your hip beneath the sheet. You were still catching your breath, cheeks warm, limbs heavy but content. Her skin was soft against yours, her chest rising and falling gently at your back.

“What do you like?” you asked softly, your voice a mix of curiosity and affection as your fingers idly played with hers.

Alexia hummed behind you, thinking. “Mmm… I like to read. In off-season. Or go the beach. Sometimes cook with Alba.”

You paused, blinking, then turned your head slightly to look at her over your shoulder. “No, I meant… what do you like in bed?”

She shifted behind you, not catching your tone. “In bed?” she repeated, thoughtful. “I like to sleep on the left side. But only if is not near the door. I don’t like that.” Her hand gestured lazily as she went on, “And always window open or fan. Even in winter. I get hot.”

You bit back a laugh, rolling to face her, your nose nearly brushing hers. Her brows pinched in confusion when she saw the look on your face. You grinned, eyes sparkling. “That’s not what I meant, Alexia.”

“No?” she blinked, then her mouth parted a little as she realised. “Ohhhh.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “I mean what do you like in bed. Not in bed, but in bed.”

She gave a half-laugh, half-groan, burying her face in your neck. “You are too much,” she muttered in a groan, the tips of her ears visibly pink.

“You make it too easy,” you teased, nudging her playfully with your knee. “I ask one simple flirty question and you give me a full sleep routine.”

She pulled back, still hiding her blush with a hand. “I thought… I really thought you mean sleep!”

You grinned, curling into her. “We’ll revisit the question. When you’re less… off-season mode.”

She laughed again, more relaxed now, pulling you close. “Okay, okay. I think next time I ask you confirm first.”

“Deal,” you murmured, pressing your forehead to hers, still smiling.

The quiet in the room settled again, the type of silence that felt full rather than empty your bare legs tangled together under the sheet, Alexia’s thumb brushing lightly over your ribs in a way that felt almost too soft to bear.

She was quiet for a few moments, eyes on your face as if she was thinking hard, searching for the right words.

Then she spoke, voice a little hesitant, “I don’t… want just… how you say…” Her brows pulled together, lips pressing tight as she frowned in concentration. “One time… thing? Like… one night?”

You tilted your head, watching her carefully. “You don’t want a one night stand?”

“Yes! That,” she said quickly, relieved you helped. Then she shook her head firmly. “No. I don’t want that.”

You smiled, heart tugging at how serious she looked. “Okay. So what do you want?”

She huffed, frustrated with her English. “I want… keep see you. After this. I want dates. Real ones. You and me. I take you.”

You bit your bottom lip, trying not to melt completely. “You want to take me on dates?”

Alexia gave a soft groan. “Yes, this is what I say. Why your English have so many… stupid phrases?”

You laughed, burying your head into her shoulder, kissing it softly. “Because you saying them wrong is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

She looked down at you, exasperated but smiling. “I serious. I like you. I don’t want just this night.”

“I like you too,” you whispered, brushing your fingers gently along her jaw. “And I want dates too. Real ones.”

Her expression softened even more, and she leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your lips slow and sincere. “Good,” she murmured as she pulled back just enough to whisper it. “Then is not just stupid English night stand.”

You laughed into her mouth as you kissed her again, heart aching in the best way possible.

☀️

The soft warmth of morning crept into the room, the light barely filtering through the curtains when you felt the gentle press of lips against your shoulder blade. A slow, lazy kiss, then another and another, a trail of affection that made you stir with a faint smile, your eyes still closed.

You felt her shift behind you the press of her chest against your bare back as her arm draped over your waist. Her breath tickled your ear as she nuzzled close, her voice husky from sleep and her Spanish lilt even softer than usual. “Mm… buenos días,” she whispered. “It’s time for breakfast.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, still half-dreaming, earning a quiet chuckle from her. Her nose brushed the curve of your neck before she kissed just beneath your ear, a little firmer this time.

“Come on,” she coaxed sweetly. “I know you don’t want, but we go… we eat. Then… maybe come back to bed.”

That made you smile as you turned your head slightly toward her, eyes finally blinking open. “You bribing me with food and more bed?”

Her grin was lazy and smug as she tucked a bit of your hair behind your ear. “Is good plan, no?”

You hummed in agreement, still half-wrapped in sleep, and let yourself melt for just a little longer into her warmth before eventually sitting up Alexia following close behind, already reaching for the shirt she’d discarded the night before, still watching you like you were the first thing she wanted to see every morning.

Alexia had disappeared with a soft kiss and a whispered, “I go change, five minutes,” slipping out with her shoes in hand and her shirt half-buttoned. You'd taken the opportunity to freshen up, padding into the small hotel bathroom in nothing but one of the white fluffy towels, your toothbrush lazily working through minty foam.

The bathroom mirror was a little fogged from your shower, but clear enough to spot the moment she came back. You didn’t hear the door, she moved quietly but her reflection appeared behind you, and your eyes met hers in the glass.

She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, now in a soft linen shirt tucked into loose trousers. Simple, clean, somehow effortlessly perfect. Her hair was a little damp at the ends, and she’d clearly rushed, but she was smiling as her eyes took you in.

“You always look good,” she said, voice low and fond as she pushed off the frame and walked toward you.

You finished brushing, trying not to smile with your mouth full of toothpaste. She came up behind you, meeting your eyes again in the mirror, her hands gently sliding onto your hips over the towel.

You spat into the sink, rinsed, and wiped your mouth before glancing at her reflection again. “You were gone five minutes,” you teased lightly.

“I said five minutes,” she shrugged, like it was a challenge to beat her own prediction. Then, softer “I don’t want be gone long.”

You turned in her arms, the towel still snug around you, and raised an eyebrow. “Miss me already?”

She smiled, pressing a quick kiss to your damp shoulder. “Mucho.”

☀️

As you both left your room, the door clicking shut behind you, Alexia’s hand found yours again with ease, her fingers naturally sliding between yours like they belonged there. You were heading toward the lift to meet the rest of the wedding party for breakfast, and she walked close your arms brushing, her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand every few steps.

In the lift, it only intensified. She let go of your hand just to wrap her arm around your waist instead, her palm resting against the curve of your hip, pulling you slightly into her side. You looked up at her, amused.

She wasn’t trying to hide anything. In fact, she looked content like holding you this way was second nature. You rested your head lightly against her shoulder for a second, a small smile tugging at your lips.

As the lift doors opened, her arm stayed around your waist as you walked through the hotel corridor toward the breakfast area. The corridor was quiet, your steps soft on the carpet. Every now and then, Alexia leaned in to murmur something soft in Spanish something you couldn’t understand but didn’t really need to. Her tone was warm, intimate, her hand slipping a little lower as she guided you forward.

You glanced up at her, playful. “I like this touchy feely version of you.” you said as her fingertips grazed your ass.

Alexia gave a bashful smile, her hand still holding you close. “Touchy feely?”

You nodded, amused. “Yeah… affectionate. Handsy. I could get used to it.”

She looked down at you with a grin, then leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek just as you neared where you needed to be. “Get used,” she repeated softly, “please…”

As you rounded the final corner and the soft murmur of conversation grew louder, you spotted Eli and Alba already seated at the breakfast table near the window, sunlight pouring in and catching on their coffee cups and orange juice glasses. They looked up, spotting you both, smiles already forming.

You felt a flutter in your chest something between nerves and anticipation and leaned closer to Alexia as her hand slid naturally to your lower back again.

“How do I say good morning to them?” you asked quietly, eyes on the table ahead.

Alexia glanced at you, a little smile playing at her lips, clearly charmed by your effort. “Buenos días,” she said gently, leaning closer so the words were just between you. “Say it slow bweh-nos dee-ahs.”

You repeated it softly under your breath once.

“Perfecto,” she whispered, squeezing your side. “They will love that you try.”

As you reached the table, Alexia moved ahead just slightly, smiling at her family. You gave them both a small, nervous smile and said, “Buenos días,” your accent shy but sincere.

Eli’s smile grew warm immediately. “Buenos días!” she said brightly, clearly touched.

Alba grinned, nodding approvingly. “Very good,” she said in English, giving you a wink.

You took your seat beside Alexia, who leaned in as you settled. Her voice was soft and proud. “You’re so cute when you try Spanish.”

You smiled, cheeks warm, glancing between the two women across the table.

Alexia added teasingly, “Now they know you’re polite and brave.”

The warm buzz of conversation floated over the table as the breakfast plates were being enjoyed and coffee refilled. You were halfway through your croissant when a family member arrived, carefully placing a comically oversized card down at the end of the table. It had soft gold lettering on the front and a floral border clearly a wedding card for the happy couple.

You watched with quiet curiosity as Eli carefully pulled the cap off a thick pen and began writing inside, her brows furrowing in thought. Alba followed, adding a cheeky message and an affectionate little doodle that made Alexia laugh under her breath.

You sipped your orange juice, trying not to not look out of place too obviously, when you noticed Alexia subtly pull a napkin closer to your side of the table. She kept her eyes on her family, her hand scribbling something casually with the hotel pen. You glanced down, scrawled in a quick, slightly messy script, you are cute.

A small smile tugged at your lips. You turned your head toward her, raising an eyebrow, but Alexia didn’t look at you at least, not right away. Then, when you least expected it, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes flickering your way with a smug, dimpled grin.

You leaned in just a little, voice low. “You’re distracting me from being polite to your family.”

Alexia shrugged with mock innocence, eyes sparkling. “No. I say truth.”

You tried to keep your cool, but you couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. You picked up the napkin, folding it and tucking it into your bag earning a knowing look from Alba, who’d clearly caught at least part of the exchange.

Alexia leaned in again, whispering, “You save it? You like it?”

You nodded, brushing your knee against hers under the table. “I do. Might frame it.”

☀️

The hotel lobby was quiet except for the low hum of suitcase wheels and the soft chime of the automatic doors opening and closing. You stood near one of the velvet couches with your suitcase upright at your side, your fingers loosely curled around the handle. The morning sun streamed through the tall glass windows, casting warm golden light on the marble floor too pretty a day to be leaving.

Eli was already outside, keeping an eye on the street, her arms folded and eyes occasionally scanning for the arriving taxi. Alba lingered by the check-in desk, pretending to scroll her phone but clearly stalling. She glanced your way now and then, smiling faintly like she knew something neither of you were saying aloud.

Alexia, on the other hand, didn’t pretend.

She stood directly in front of you, her brows drawn slightly, her expression soft but stubborn. Her arms were around your waist for what had to be the third or fourth time in the last ten minutes, her forehead resting lightly against your temple.

"I no like this part," she mumbled quietly, her voice muffled in your hair.

You let out a breathy laugh, trying not to let the lump in your throat form fully. “You’ve hugged me enough times to break a record.”

"Not enough," she murmured, pulling back just far enough to look at you, her hands slid from your waist to your lower back. “You sure you have to go?”

“I don’t want to go,” you said honestly, smoothing a wrinkle in her sleeve with your thumb. “But yes. Real life calls.”

Alexia pouted slightly, then leaned in again, burying her face in your neck for a moment before whispering, “Next time, I go to you.”

You smiled, nodding against her. “Promise?”

“Prometo.” She leaned back, giving you one last squeeze.

From outside, Eli knocked on the glass and waved the taxi had arrived. Alba looked up from her phone with a quiet sigh and started walking toward the doors, Alexia didn’t let go.

Reluctantly, you placed a quick kiss at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll text when I land.”

She nodded, but her eyes followed you all the way to the doors, her hand slipping from yours only when the automatic glass separated you. As the taxi boot popped open, she pressed a hand to the window, watching as you turned one last time to wave.

Even then, she didn’t look away until the taxi pulled out of view.

☀️

You’d barely been home an hour.

The flat still smelled faintly of your suitcase clothes in need of washing, perfumes you don’t remember spraying, a crumpled wedding programme still wedged into a pocket. You’d just showered and pulled on some old pyjamas, your hair damp and tied up, when the buzzer rang.

You paused mid-cup of tea, glancing toward the door with a little frown, you weren’t expecting anyone. Crossing the room, you pressed the intercom button. “Hello?”

“Delivery for [Your Name],” a voice said cheerfully.

Still puzzled, you buzzed them in and cracked open your door. A few minutes later, the lift pinged and opened and the man stepped out with both arms completely full of flowers. Not just flowers a bouquet, massive and absurdly beautiful, the kind you only ever saw in magazines or on Pinterest boards. Soft blush peonies, cream roses, lilac wildflowers, and eucalyptus all carefully wrapped in brown paper tied with a satin ribbon.

You blinked.

“This... is for me?”

He checked the name on his delivery slip and smiled. “Sure is. Enjoy.”

You mumbled a thank you, accepting the weight of the bouquet carefully in both hands. It smelled incredible like summer mornings and something expensive. You set it gently on the kitchen counter, still stunned, before you noticed the envelope tucked neatly within the ribbon.

Your name was handwritten on the front in neat handwriting. You opened it carefully, heart already tugging in your chest.

Inside:

Thank you for being my date. Todo mi amor, A

Your smile spread so wide it almost hurt.

You pressed the card to your chest for a moment, already reaching for your phone with the other hand, this was so Alexia. Effortless romance, quiet intensity, thoughtful beyond words and you missed her already.

You couldn't stop smiling as you held the bouquet in your arms, the flat smelled divine now like florists and fairy tales. You reached for your phone, switching to the front camera, and tilted it toward the mirror.

You stood with your back to the mirror, torso and face behind the bouquet so only your bottom half peeked out. Snap. You uploaded it to your Instagram story with no caption, just a white heart emoji and a smiley face.

It didn’t take long before your phone started ringing. Carmen.

You laughed to yourself, already expecting what was coming as you answered.

“So that’s why Alexia Putellas wanted your address,” Carmen said, no greeting, just immediately calling you out. “I think you need to catch me up, don’t you think?”

You bit your lip to suppress your grin and wandered over to the sofa with the phone. “I was going to tell you, I swear.”

“Don’t even,” she cut in, mock-offended. “You’ve been keeping secrets since the wedding, and now you’re out here getting five-star floral confessions from Spain’s national treasure. Babe. Come on.”

You laughed. “I wasn’t keeping secrets. I was just… figuring it out.”

“Figuring out what? That she’s obsessed with you? Because I could have told you that when she spent thirty solid minutes watching you pour sangria and blushed every time you said her name that night.”

You let out a little groan, flopping back against the cushions, cheeks warm. “Okay, maybe I’ve been in denial.”

“She sent you a literal fairytale garden. That’s not denial territory, that’s main character energy,” Carmen teased. “Right, spill. How did you get to a place where Ale is sending you flowers please? And do not skip anything.”

You glanced over at the bouquet again, still stunned it was real, still stunned she was real. You smiled into the phone. “Okay. It started at your International game, with her asking me to be her date to a family wedding… and then things got very, very real.”

[oohtobeagooner]

Masterlist

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

📖 Chapters

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

📸 Instagram Dumps

Carmen and Ben's Wedding Dump

Holiday Dump

[oohtobeagooner]

pillow princess wife who struggles to relax due to her high stress job and alexia or leah who just want their wife to stop being a bitch/snappy/sassy to everyone

18+ and not proofread 😍

-

“I don’t need sleep,” you snap, without looking up. “I need five uninterrupted hours to finish this brief and no one breathing near me.”

She’s been stood in the doorway for three full minutes. Sports bra, boxers. Fresh out of the shower. Hair wet, ends dripping. You think she’s doing it on purpose, standing there looking shiny and bare and faintly disappointed.

You turn back to your monitor.

The cursor’s frozen.

You click it. Nothing happens.

You click again. Twice. Nothing.

Your laptop lets out a sound like a dying animal.

“Fucking brilliant.”

You shove your chair back. Not to get up—you haven’t left the room since just after lunch—but to jolt the machine into respect. It doesn’t work. It never does. You do it anyway. You have rituals, and they comfort you.

“Qué hora es?” Alexia asks, slowly, like she knows the answer but is giving you a chance to lie.

You ignore her. Your jaw is clenched.

“Cariño,” she tries again. Still soft. Still calm.

“Don’t ‘cariño’ me,” you snap. “It’s not like I’m out clubbing. I’m working. I don’t exactly enjoy it either.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she says, and walks into the room.

You frown, still clicking around the dead screen. The top button of your shirt’s undone. The bottom half is bunched above your thighs. You’re in your pants and an old pair of Adidas socks, mismatched ones she refuses to throw out. Your hair’s scraped back and you’ve had exactly two sips of water all day. You’re running off cortisol, caffeine, and a full-scale superiority complex.

She crouches beside you.

You don’t look at her.

“You’re being rude again,” she says.

“No, I’m being busy.”

She tilts her head. “You always rude when you’re busy?”

“I’m always rude when I’m interrupted.”

She exhales through her nose. Not quite a sigh. Her fingers find your bare knee. You twitch but don’t swat her away. That would require energy you’ve long since spent shouting into a Google Doc.

“You said twenty minutes,” she murmurs, sliding her hand higher. “Hace una hora.”

“I didn’t ask you to wait.”

She laughs. Just once. No humour in it.

Then she kisses your inner thigh.

You freeze.

“Don’t start,” you mutter.

She kisses again. A little higher.

“I mean it, Alexia. I have—”

“You’re being a bitch,” she says, lightly. Not unkindly. “And I let it go all day.”

You look down at her. Her eyes are already on you, completely calm.

“You think you can—”

Her hands slip under your thighs and pull you forward. Your arse just reaches the edge of the chair. She presses your knees apart and doesn’t need to say a word about how wet you already are.

“Don’t—”

She licks you through your knickers.

You jolt.

You weren’t expecting that. Your body betrays you instantly, hips lifting a fraction. She smirks against you. Her fingers curl into the waistband and pull them down. You don’t stop her. She knows you won’t.

“Wet already,” she murmurs, accent slipping through. “Qué sorpresa.”

You scowl. “I’ve been sat here all day, my body thinks I’m dead.”

She doesn’t answer. Just leans in and licks you, slow and firm, flat-tongued pressure that makes your jaw clench.

“Alexia.”

“You’re impossible,” she mutters, mouth still on you. “Always angry. Always so stressed.”

“Maybe if everyone around me wasn’t so fucking annoying—”

She sucks hard on your clit and you choke on your words. Your whole body jolts. She does it again, just to prove a point.

You grip the arms of your chair. She slides two fingers inside you, slow but without warning, and it knocks all the air from your lungs.

You gasp.

Her tongue doesn’t stop moving.

“Jesus Christ—”

“You need to come,” she says simply. “You’ll feel better.”

You shake your head, but it’s weak. Your eyes close. You tilt your hips forward. You hate how quickly you give in, how easy it is for her to shut you up.

She fucks you gently, rhythm steady, fingers firm. Her thumb presses where you need it and her mouth stays right there, hot breath, tongue moving like she’s got all night.

She does. You don’t.

You cling to the chair like it’s a life raft. “I’ve got—fuck—I’ve got work to do—”

“You’re done working,” she says.

Your thighs are trembling. You hate how wet you are. How good she is at this. How right she is. It’s infuriating.

“Let go,” she murmurs. “Let me take care of it.”

You try to hold on, but she moans softly into you and that’s it—you shatter. A low, guttural sound punches out of you and you grind forward shamelessly, riding her tongue through it. You come so hard it almost hurts. She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even flinch. Just takes it. All of it.

It lasts longer than it should.

You don’t move.

Your knickers are hanging off one ankle. Your shirt’s damp between your shoulder blades. Your heart is thumping against your ribs like it’s late for something.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then leans up and kisses your cheek, maddeningly sweet.

You stay exactly where you are. Head back. Shirt stuck to your chest. Breathing like you’ve just run six flights of stairs.

She stands.

“Now,” she says, voice amused but gentle, “are you ready for bed?”

You blink at her.

You still can’t feel your legs.

“Ten minutes,” you whisper.

“No,” she says. “Now.”

And somehow, you stand.

[oohtobeagooner]

In a match where the scoreboard tells only half the story, a fierce on-pitch rivalry between you and football royalty, Alexia Putellas, evolves into something electric — something unspoken, but deeply felt. Between the lines two players lock eyes, trade touches, and blur the line between competition and connection. What begins as a game becomes a gravity neither can resist.

Part 9 Other Parts

Word Count: 8k

You’re still curled on the corner of the sofa, a blanket tossed over your knees. The TV is still on, the volume low something forgettable playing while your focus drifts elsewhere.

You glance toward the clock. She’s been gone longer than fifteen minutes. You smile, faint but fond, and call out toward the hallway with raised eyebrows, “Did you get lost?”

The front door opens almost exactly as the words leave your mouth.

Teddy barrels in first, nails clicking across the tile, tail wagging wildly. He goes straight for you like he missed you after ten minutes of freedom, launching his head into your lap and letting out a triumphant huff. You laugh, fingers immediately threading through his fur. “Hey, bud. You give her a hard time?”

Then you look up and the smile flickers, because there she is, standing with flowers. Wrapped in soft brown paper, a little loose around the edges like she carried them carefully but not nervously. The colours are muted, warm. Kind.

Alexia looks like she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself, she clears her throat. “Teddy got these for you.”

Your brows lift. “Oh, did he?”

She steps closer, still holding them like she might change her mind. “Yeah. Saw them. Thought of you. Made me carry them.”

You try not to smile too big. You fail. “Wow,” you say, taking them gently as she crosses the room. Your fingers brush hers. “He’s very emotionally intuitive for a dog.”

“Unbelievable instincts,” she murmurs, eyes flicking to your face just once before sliding away again.

You look down at the bouquet. It’s perfect, thoughtful, soft. Intentional, you bring it to your nose, breathing in. “Ranunculus,” you murmur, impressed.

She shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I liked the name.”

You glance up. “Liar.”

She huffs, rubs the back of her neck. “The woman in the shop said they mean charm.”

You blink. “They mean you’ve been reading into flower meanings?”

She gestures to Teddy. “He asked.”

You laugh, holding the flowers against your chest. “Well he has incredible taste.”

Alexia sits beside you now not too close, but close enough. One leg tucked under her, fingers fidgeting slightly at the hem of her shirt.

You shift the flowers to one side, still smiling. “Thank you,” you say, voice quieter now.

She nods, doesn’t look at you just yet. “You’ve had a hard week.”

You rest your head on the back of the couch, looking at her profile, “I’m glad it ended here.”

That makes her glance at you properly, her voice drops to a whisper. “Me too.”

Teddy sighs between you both loud, satisfied and neither of you moves.

You’re both half-watching the screen, the opening whistle just blowing for Bayern vs Hoffenheim. The stadium is loud through the speakers, commentary layered with the low hum of crowd noise.

Alexia stretches out slightly on the other side of the couch, her head resting back, one leg bent beneath her, the other stretched toward the edge.

She shifts, wincing faintly, you glance over. “You alright?”

She exhales through her nose. “My new boots are a nightmare.”

You turn your head toward her. “Blisters?”

“Worse. Pressure. They’re too narrow across the midfoot. I can’t feel my toes after 30 minutes.”

You frown. “Why didn’t you switch them?”

“I’m stubborn.”

You smirk. “No kidding.”

She kicks lightly in your direction. “Shut up.”

You nod to her foot. “Want me to rub it?”

She blinks, scoffing softly. “What?”

“Your foot. If it’s sore. I’ll rub it.”

She laughs short, dismissive. “You don’t have to—”

“I didn’t say I have to,” you cut in, turning toward her. “But I can do?”

She opens her mouth to protest again, but you’re already reaching forward gently taking hold of her ankle, shifting her leg into your lap.

“Wait” she says, more startled than offended, but your hands are warm and sure, thumbs already pressing into the arch with practiced pressure. She goes quiet, her head tips back against the cushion, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

You glance sideways, your tone smug but affectionate. “That’s what I thought.”

She mutters something in Catalan under her breath you've quickly learnt 'Annoying' in Catalan she says it multiple times whenever you're around, but she doesn’t pull away.

In fact… she melts, bit by bit, minute by minute.

The longer your thumbs work along the arch of her foot, your fingers tracing gentle circles along the pressure points, the more tension leaves her body like you’re unplugging something at the source.

At one point, she sighs not soft, not hidden and lies fully back against the couch, stretching out with her arm over her eyes.

You keep going, you’re not really watching the match anymore. “Still want to argue?” you murmur, thumb sliding along the curve beneath her ankle.

She doesn’t lift her arm, just shakes her head once.

“Didn’t think so.”

You smile, not because you’re winning but because she’s letting you in like this. Letting you take care of her, even in the small ways.

Your thumbs are working slow circles into the arch of her left foot, the pads of your fingers easing tension like it’s what you were born to do. Every time she exhales, you feel it the way her body settles deeper, the way her edges soften.

Then she mutters, eyes still closed, head still tipped back against the cushion, “Don’t stop.”

You don’t answer at first. Just slow your movements, then lift your hands away entirely.

She whines, actually whines, the softest, most involuntary sound from the back of her throat.

You tilt your head, grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah?” you say, voice low, lazy. “Beg me.”

Her eyes snap open. “What?”

You tap her thigh twice, grinning. “Give me the other foot. Bring it up.”

She glares at you but it’s all performance, because she does it. Shifting with a groan, stretching the other leg out and settling it in your lap like she hates herself for giving in. “I’m not begging.”

You raise an eyebrow, already starting to knead at her heel. “No? Sounded like you were getting close.”

Alexia groans, draping her forearm across her face. “Cállate…”

You laugh quietly. “That’s not a denial.”

Her voice comes muffled from beneath her arm. “You’re impossible.”

“Comfortable, though.”

She doesn’t answer, but she does lower her arm a second later, peeking at you with a reluctant smile. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

You meet her gaze, and this time, your voice softens just a little “Maybe. Or maybe I just like making you feel good.”

That does get her, you can see it in the shift of her throat, the way she swallows, the flicker in her eyes, but instead of answering, she mutters, “Just focus on the foot.”

You smirk. “As you wish.”

And you do thumb sliding gently along the bridge, fingers pressing into the ball of her foot with care and purpose.

Her eyes close again but that smile it stays. You shift your fingers up her sole with another long, slow press and then glance at her with mock curiosity. “I wonder if Mateo would like a foot massage…”

She freezes, then pulls both feet out of your lap instantly, curling them protectively beneath her as she sat up like you’ve just committed an unforgivable sin. You burst into laughter. Her jaw drops. “You did not just say that.”

You grin, unrepentant. “I mean, he’s very emotionally intuitive—”

That’s all you get out before she lunges. One moment, she’s glaring at you, and the next she’s on you, hands going straight for your sides like she knows exactly where to strike. “Take it back!” she laughs, her fingers merciless at your ribs.

You squirm, gasping through your own laughter. “Never!”

“You’re the worst!” she says, laughing too hard to sound truly angry, and you grab for her wrists, trying to defend yourself and failing spectacularly.

She’s on top of you now, completely, your back against the couch cushions, her weight warm and steady, hair falling over her face as she grins down at you, breathless.

And then without warning the mood shifts, your hands are still wrapped around her wrists. Her laughter softens, her gaze catches on yours and stays there. Neither of you moves for a beat, then her smile fades into something else and you’re the one who leans up.

Her mouth meets yours in a kiss that starts soft a question, an answer then deepens quickly, all heat and relief and too many held-back moments finally spilling forward.

She tastes like mint and something sweet from earlier, her hands threading into your hair now, your fingers sliding up her back as you shift beneath her, anchoring her to you like this is where she was always meant to be.

Her body presses down into yours, slow and certain.

You sigh against her mouth, hand sliding under the hem of her shirt just to feel her skin warm, smooth, real.

She hums softly, mouth never leaving yours.

When you finally pull apart barely her forehead rests against yours.

Her voice is breathless. “No more Mateo jokes.”

You grin, tugging gently at her shirt. “Noted. Only adult massages from now on.”

She kisses you again, laughing into your mouth and this time, it lingers, it deepens quickly. No trace of teasing now.

Her weight is settled fully on you, one hand still twisted gently in your hoodie at your chest, the other sliding up to your jaw, fingers resting lightly like she wants to feel every inch of this moment.

You tilt your chin slightly, meeting her with a slow kind of urgency not rushing her, just matching her intention.

It’s not messy. It’s not loud. Every press of lips, every brush of breath between you, every shift of her hips over yours, you can feel her smiling against your mouth now and then small, involuntary things that make your stomach tighten and your chest ease all at once.

She pulls back only slightly, her eyes heavy-lidded, warm.

“Come here.” You whispered, you weren't any near done with this yet.

She kisses you again slow, warm, her mouth parting under yours now, her hands sliding beneath your hoodie, fingertips exploring the skin at your waist like she’s been thinking about this too long not to remember it.

You sit up slightly, enough to push the hoodie over your head, her gaze following every motion, eyes catching at the hem of your shirt riding up.

Then her lips are back on yours before you can say another word, and it’s closer now hands moving with purpose, mouths syncing, breath hitching with each shift.

Your hand slides under her shirt, slow, reverent and she lets you, her stomach twitching under your touch, her breath catching in your mouth.

The match on the TV is long forgotten.

All that’s left is the warmth of skin under fabric, the gentle gasp she makes when your thumb brushes just beneath the curve of her ribs, the way she sighs your name like a secret she’s finally allowed to say aloud.

And when she pulls back again hair mussed, lips swollen, flushed she looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s made sense all night.

And then the buzz, a low, persistent vibration on the coffee table, neither of you moves at first. You groan softly, tilting your head toward the sound, reluctant, when it keeps going.

Alexia does it for you shifts just slightly, propping herself on one elbow, squinting at the screen.

Then she says, calmly, but not without interest, “Abby”

Your heart skips a beat, "My agent" You explain, “Shit,” you mutter.

She moves off you gently, giving you space, as you sit up her hand brushing yours once before letting go.

You grab your phone, the name staring up at you. Unmissable. You glance back at her once. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Alexia nods, softly. “Take it.”

You walk barefoot through the open bi-fold doors, out onto the cool tiles by the pool. The night air hits your skin crisp, welcome, grounding. You swipe to answer. “Hey,” you say, trying to steady your voice, trying to hold on to what just happened with her.

There’s no delay. No warm-up, your agent’s voice is all urgency. “I know it’s late, but I didn’t want you finding out from the press.”

Your stomach tenses. “What happened?”

“They’ve made a decision,” she says. “Your club. They’ve told me you're being released at the end of your contract.”

Silence. Just you, and the still water at your feet. You don’t say anything at first. “But I have a year and a half left yet?”

“They’re not extending. They’re making room. New signings, different direction. They’re spinning it as a mutual decision.”

You stare into the water. Your reflection isn’t clear too many ripples. “They’re done with me.”

Your agent hesitates. “They’ve moved on. But you’re not done. That’s what matters.” You nod slowly, not trusting your voice. “You knew this might happen,” she adds gently.

You swallow hard. “I didn’t want to be right.”

A pause. “I’ve already had a few calls,” she says. “Clubs asking what’s next. You’ve still got options.”

You exhale slowly. “Okay.” You need a second. Maybe more than that, but it's time you haven't got. “Are there any options to leave now?” you ask. Your voice is low, tight. “Loan, even. Buyout, if someone bites. I can't stay there knowing they don't want me for all that time”

Your agent doesn’t hesitate. “That’s what I’ve been checking since I heard.”

“I can’t sit on a bench for another year and a half.” You run a hand down your face. “By then, no one will want me.”

“They already do,” she says calmly. “There are clubs watching. But they’ll want clarity. They’ll want minutes.”

“I don’t have any minutes,” you mutter.

“But you have history. Presence. Reputation. That’s something especially if you can go now, I can blame the Portugal match for lack of minutes right now but that can only ride for so long.”

There’s a pause. You press harder, “If it’s loan or nothing, I’ll take the loan. I just—” You stop yourself. Lower your voice again. “I need to play. That’s it.”

Your agent exhales softly on the other end. “Okay. Then that’s what we go for.”

You nod, mostly to yourself. “No press release. Not until we know where I’m going.”

“I’ll control the timing,” she assures you. “And I’ll push.”

Another silence. But this one has more oxygen in it. A plan is forming now, the kind that keeps you standing when everything else tries to shrink you down. “Thanks,” you say. “Call me if anything changes.”

“I will.”

You end the call and let the phone drop into your lap. You’re sitting on the edge, legs stretched out in front of you, phone limp in your hand, eyes fixed somewhere that isn’t the water anymore. Behind you, soft footsteps on the tiles. No rush. Just presence. Then her voice quiet, but sure. “You’re going to tell me you have to go home, aren’t you?”

You don’t look at her right away. Just breathe. Then glance sideways, “Says the woman flying off tomorrow for international camp.”

She lets out a short, low laugh and comes to sit beside you, her legs crossing beneath her. “Fair,” she murmurs. Silence slips between you, but it’s not sharp. It’s soft around the edges. Then barely above a whisper. “Be here when I get back?”

You look at her now. She’s not smiling. She’s not pushing. She just looks at you with something open in her eyes not desperate. Just hoping.

You search her face for a second, the quiet honesty of her question wrapping around you like a thread you didn’t expect. You nod, once. Steady.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Ok.”

She nods too, slowly, like she’s folding that answer away somewhere private. Then she leans just slightly, her shoulder brushing yours, her voice closer now. “Good.” You smile faintly, fingers curling around the edge of the pool tiles. She leans her head gently onto your shoulder, and neither of you says anything more.

⚽️

You wake slow, the kind of sleep that leaves your body heavy and your thoughts scattered. For a moment, you don’t remember where you are. Then you do.

The bed is warm, but the other side is empty.

You blink against the pale morning light seeping through the open window, the distant sound of traffic barely audible under the chirp of birds and the occasional shuffle of Teddy’s tail against the hallway floor.

You pull on one of Alexia’s hoodies, the first thing within reach, and pad barefoot down the hall. The kitchen is quiet.

The coffee machine is on, half-full pot waiting like she knew you’d wake up slow. The blinds are half-open, and Teddy’s already curled in the sunspot by the sliding doors.

And then you see it, propped against the side of your mug. A small folded note. Her handwriting, neat but unhurried. You pick it up, fingers brushing the edge of the paper.

It simply says:

Didn’t want to wake you. Behave yourself I’ll call when I land. — A 🐾 (Teddy's in charge)

You stare at it for a second longer than you mean to, then press it flat to the countertop with your palm.

You pour the coffee, lean against the counter, hoodie sleeves falling over your hands. Teddy stretches and pads over, nosing your shin before plopping down at your feet.

You run a hand absently over his head, sipping quietly. “She left you in charge, huh?” He doesn’t move, neither do you, because in this silence, you can feel it, serenity.

⚽️

At Spains international camp the common area is buzzing in the low, distracted way it always does before a double training session players sprawled on beanbags and sofas, water bottles half-drained, music playing softly through a speaker in the corner.

Alexia’s cross-legged on the floor, back against a sofa, phone in one hand, a pair of boots beside her she still hasn’t started re-lacing. Jana’s flipping through a playlist, Olga and Aitana talking quietly near the windows.

“Oye, have you seen the gossip about Y/N?” Misa says suddenly, screen raised, eyes wide in half-shock, half-entertainment.

Alexia’s head snaps up. Her tone is immediate, too sharp to hide, “What?”

Misa blinks, surprised. “It’s just online. People are talking.”

Alexia is already moving rising to her knees, tossing her phone on the cushion behind her. “Where?”

Misa scrolls quickly, tapping open a football blog post clearly being passed around. “Here,” she says. “I didn’t think it was—”

Alexia leans over her shoulder, jaw tight.

Misa reads aloud, frowning slightly, “Sources close to the club claim the relationship between Bayern’s head coach and their star forward Y/N has soured, becoming strained over the past few months. Once a fixture in both club and country starting elevens, Y/N has now fallen from both, failing to make England’s most recent camp. With a year and a half still on her contract, insiders question whether Bayern’s top goalscorer might now be seeking an early exit, or risk sitting out the season and losing her spot in any international contention completely.”

Silence. No one laughs. Not even Misa. Alexia stands properly now, arms folded, eyes fixed on the screen like she could burn it.

Only the Barça girls glance up, Patri, Mapi, Aitana, they know. The rest just wait, curious. Alexia’s voice is quiet, but firm. “She’s not gossip."

Misa looks up, taken aback. “I didn’t mean—”

“She’s still the best forward in Germany if not the world. I don’t care who wants to spin what.”

Aitana shifts closer, her voice low. “They’re just trying to fill space before the transfer window opens.”

Alexia nods once, jaw still clenched. “They don’t know anything.”

She doesn’t say but I do. She doesn’t have to. Misa softens. “Sorry, Ale. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Bayern are fumbling hard,” Laia says, shaking her head. “You don’t sit a player like her unless something serious went down.”

“Yeah, but with who?” Olga chimes in. “The coach? Management? She’s been everywhere and never had issues before.”

“They’ve got the best scorer in the league and they’re benching her?” Jana snorts. “What kind of manager does that?”

Mapi leans forward, hands clasped between her knees. “She’s done it all though, hasn’t she?”

Aitana hums in agreement. “WSL titles with Chelsea and Arsenal. Then Lyon the whole sweep, quadruple twice with them.”

“Champions League,” Olga adds, holding up a finger. “Coupe de France. Trophée des Championnes.”

“And now in Germany too,” Patri says, glancing up. “Bundesliga. Pokal. Supercup.”

They all go quiet for a beat. Then Misa says it half-laughing, half-serious, “Maybe it’s time she conquers Spain.”

A low whistle from someone near the back. “If she comes here, that’s history. No one’s done it across all those leagues.”

“She’d change everything,” Laia murmurs. “Again.”

Alexia stays completely still, she doesn’t speak, doesn’t react. Just stares quietly at the screen, then down at the floor, but her mind is full.

She knows how you feel about sitting out. About being silenced, and she knows, with sudden clarity, what Spain would look like with you in it. Next to her. Wearing the same colours. The others keep talking, but the noise fades at the edges for her. Because that one sentence echoes louder than all the rest,

“Maybe it’s time she conquers Spain.”

Alexia doesn’t say anything, but she’s thinking maybe it is.

⚽️

The water glimmers, warm and lazy, as you float on your back. The day has been quiet, just sun, silence, and Teddy passed out in a shady patch with his paw twitching in a dream.

You’re stretched out on a lounger, sunglasses sliding down your nose, droplets still clinging to your skin. Bikini straps low on your shoulders, hair damp, a book open across your stomach but forgotten pages ago.

Your phone vibrates once.

You lazily reach for it, barely glancing until you see her name.

Alexia 🖤 calling…

You smile immediately, swiping to answer as you sit up slightly. “Look who remembered I exist,” you tease, voice low and warm.

Her voice comes through with a soft laugh, a little static in the background. “I always remember you exist,” she says. “Even when my coach is yelling and Misa’s playing DJ badly.”

You chuckle, adjusting your sunglasses. “Sounds like a dream. What made you call?”

“I don’t know,” she says, and it’s honest. “Wanted to hear your voice.”

You pause at that. Let it settle. “Miss me already?”

A silence. Then, quieter, “Yeah.”

You pull your knees up slightly on the lounger, resting your chin on top. “I’m in a bikini, just so you know. Really missing out.” You were joking but Alexia definitely pauses. “Cruel.”

“Just setting the scene.”

“I already hate this camp,” she mutters, and you laugh.

“Go on, then,” you say. “Tell me about your day.”

She does, the drills, the heat, how she nearly tripped over Laia in a possession game. You listen, smiling, eyes closed, soaking in the sound of her, the rhythm of her voice. “Did you see the stuff online?” she asks eventually, softer.

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now,” you admit.

“Okay.”

You love that about her. No push. Just space. Just her.

“I’m proud of you, by the way,” she adds. “For not letting them decide what happens next.”

You smile, lips pressed together. “Thanks. That means more than you probably realise.”

You can almost hear her smile. “Are you going to swim after this?” she asks, tone lighter.

“Maybe. Why?”

“I just want the image. You know… for morale.”

You laugh, leaning your head back, full-bodied this time. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re distracting,” she fires back, smirking through the line.

“Good.”

“So… Misa said something earlier,” she starts, tone casual but laced with a thread of something else.

“Oh?”

“She was reading stuff online about you, and she said—” Alexia clears her throat. “She said maybe it’s time you conquered the Spanish league.”

You lean back again on your lounger, stretching, the sun warm on your chest. “Well,” you drawl, “I do love a new challenge.”

“I told her to shut up,” Alexia says quickly, but there’s a smile behind it.

You smirk, one eyebrow raised. “Why? Because she was right?”

“No,” Alexia deadpans. “Because I didn’t want her scouting you.”

You let the silence hang, playful. “Should I text my agent? See if Real Madrid are in the market?”

There’s a pause long enough to make you grin, “Don’t you dare,” she mutters, but her voice is light the edge of a laugh tucked behind every syllable.

“You’d fall out with me?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“I’d block your number.”

“Oh, ruthless.”

“But I’d still be checking your Instagram every morning.”

You laugh, tipping your head to the side, eyes closed. “I mean… you could have me closer,” you tease. “If someone else around here was bold enough to say what she really wants.”

Alexia’s quiet for a moment. Not heavy just… considered. “Maybe I am.”

Your stomach does a flip, but you don’t rush the silence. “Yeah?” you say finally.

“Yeah.” And then “But just for the record… if you ever wear white and gold, I’m fouling you every time i play you.”

You grin, biting your lip. “What about a little red and blue?”

This time, she laughs properly, low and delighted. “Now that’s more like it.” Alexia’s voice hums through the speaker, warm and unhurried now. “I’m just saying,” she murmurs, tone deliberately casual. “If you ever… happened to get the opportunity to play for Barcelona…”

You pause, one eyebrow raised, lips tugging into a grin. “Oh?” You tilt your head, biting your lip. “Wouldn’t mind, would you?”

“No,” she says, soft and sure. “I wouldn’t.”

You laugh gently, tapping the rim of your glass. “That sounds dangerously close to recruitment.”

“If I were recruiting,” she says, “I’d be way more convincing.”

You stretch your legs out, heart thudding just a little louder under your grin. “This isn’t convincing?”

She sighs, dramatic. “I’d buy you flowers.”

“You already did.”

“I’d take you for long walks along the training ground.”

You laugh. “Okay, romantic and tactical.”

“I’d promise to pass you the ball,” she adds.

“Oh, now we’re talking.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Unless you annoy me. Then I’ll ghost you on the pitch.”

“You already do that off it” you shoot back, after she apologised for next texting you like she promised when she got to camp.

“Lies.”

“Evidence-based truth.”

You’re both smiling now the kind of smiles you don’t need to see to feel. The kind that live in the quiet between words, in the softness under the jokes, then Alexia exhales, voice lowering again. “But really…” A pause. “If it ever happened… I wouldn’t just not mind. I’d… like it.”

You close your eyes. Let it settle. “Good to know,” you say quietly.

She’s quiet on the other end. Then, “You’d look good in blaugrana.”

You smirk, hand resting lightly over your chest, “You just want to steal my goals.”

She laughs, low and warm. “I want to keep you close.”

You let that sit there for a moment. It’s not a suggestion. Not a push. Just her giving you a piece of truth. You shift the phone to your other ear, voice dropping a little, grounding. “I told my agent to start asking around,” you admit. “If I can be bought out. Or loaned.”

The quiet on the other end changes not silence. Just focus.

“I can’t…” you sigh, thumb brushing your eyebrow. “I can’t sit on the bench for a year and a half. Or worse not even make it there like now. That’s not who I am. I’d rather fight somewhere new than fade where I am.”

Alexia doesn’t rush to answer, when she does, her voice is steadier than you expect. Warm. Clear. “I don’t want you to fade either. You're world class you should be playing”

You exhale, slowly. “I don’t know where I’ll go. I don’t even know what’s possible. But I know I’m not waiting around to be treated like I’m done.”

“You’re not done,” she says immediately. “You’re not even close.”

You smile again smaller this time, “I miss feeling like myself.”

“I see her,” Alexia says, quiet but full. “Every time I talk to you. Every time I think about you.”

That one makes you still, your fingers curl slightly against your leg, “Don’t,” you say softly, teasing edge still there, “make me cry in a bikini.”

Alexia laughs gently. “Then don’t cry. Just get ready.”

“For what?”

“For your next move,” she says. “For whatever’s coming next, because something is.”

You let out a breath that feels easier now. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay,” she echoes.

⚽️

The sun’s dropping low, casting long shadows through the trees as you walk slowly along the gravel trail. Teddy’s off leash, bounding through dry grass like a creature reborn. Johnny, Ellie’s squat little Frenchie keeps closer to the path, snorting like a tiny engine every few steps.

Kika’s walking ahead with Ellie, her injured leg braced, but she’s keeping pace well enough. They’ve been swapping stories for the last ten minutes mostly nonsense until Ellie slows a little and drops back beside you.

“So,” she says, tossing a look over. “Everyone’s talking.”

You raise an eyebrow. “About?”

She grins. “You. Bayern. The whole silence-followed-by-transfer-window frenzy. Just wondering if we should be refreshing woso gossip Twitter.”

You exhale a laugh, but it’s tight. You don’t answer right away.

Kika glances back, curious. “Is it true? You’re getting iced out by the coach?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

Ellie whistles low. “Shit.”

You kick at a stone on the trail. “It’s complicated,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. “I… may have gone on a date with her daughter.”

Both their heads whip around.

“What?” Ellie says, loudly enough to make Johnny bark once.

Kika freezes in her step.

You shrug, trying to play it off. “We went for drinks. It was fine. But we didn’t click. She made a big deal of it. Or… maybe I did. Doesn’t matter now.”

“And?” Ellie asks, narrowing her eyes. “That’s not worth getting benched over.”

You hesitate. “I still went back to hers. After. We had sex. And I left while she was asleep.”

Silence. Even Teddy seems to pause. Kika’s jaw drops. Ellie groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Oh, babe…”

You shrug again, arms crossed now. “I didn’t mean to ghost her. I just… didn’t want to stay.”

Kika finally lets out a soft laugh. “Well. That explains it.”

“Yeah.” You exhale, glancing at the sky. “Now her mum doesn’t speak to me directly. Everything’s through assistants. I haven’t started a match since.”

Ellie bumps your shoulder lightly. “For what it’s worth, still a dumb reason to tank a player’s career.”

You nod, grateful. “Tell that to her.”

“She’s bitter,” Kika says. “And clearly threatened.”

You don’t say anything to that. You don’t have to, because somewhere behind all that regret, the quiet truth is you understood your coaches decision. Even it came from a personal perspective not professional.

⚽️

You, Ellie, and Kika settle at a small terrace café tucked into the curve of the walking trail. Johnny, Ellie’s French bulldog, pants happily beneath the table, while Teddy curls beside him with quiet, golden indifference.

You’re picking at the last of your sandwich when your phone buzzes.

Alexia 🖤 Boarding now. See you soon.

You smile without even thinking thumb hovering over the screen then you pause and breathe.

You glance up. “Alright,” you say. “Before I reply to this, you both need to promise not to say anything.”

Ellie looks immediately intrigued. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Kika, quiet but curious, lifts an eyebrow. “Secret agent stuff?”

“Something like that.” You lean back in your seat, eyes flicking between them. “Promise?”

Ellie lifts a hand like she’s swearing into court. “I swear. Unless it’s illegal. Then I’m out.”

“It’s not illegal.”

“Then go on.”

You exhale. The words come slower than expected, but they come. “So… you remember that Champions League quarter-final? The one against Barça?”

Ellie nods. “Of course. You were ridiculous in that second half. Alexia was tracking you the whole time.”

You half-smile. “Yeah. So… it started there.”

Ellie leans forward, her face already lighting with disbelief. “Started?”

“I don’t know what it was,” you admit. “We were just… close the whole game. Flirty, almost? Lots of looks. Touches. Corners. I thought I imagined it.”

Kika’s watching you carefully now, quiet but focused.

“But then after the match,” you continue, “she asked to swap shirts. I didn’t think it’d go further.”

Ellie’s eyes widen.

“But we started messaging. DMing. Then texting.” You glance down at your drink. “She came to see me in Munich. Just for a few days and then I went to Barcelona stayed at her place. Met her sister who took me to a game”

Ellie’s hand slowly lifts to her forehead. “You’ve seen her house?”

You nod. “Twice.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“And then,” you continue, softer now, “we kissed. A couple times. Nothing rushed. And this time? She said she wanted me here when she got back from camp.”

There’s a long pause.

“I’m here… for her.”

Ellie stares at you, mouth parted. “And you’ve been telling everyone you’re just having time off?”

“Technically true.”

“But you’re sleeping at her place.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Ellie stares. Then bursts out, “This is huge! I thought you were just, like, walking the dog and brooding.”

“I am walking the dog and brooding.”

“With Alexia Putellas on the side!”

You laugh. “It’s not that serious, we share a bed but nothing happens”

Kika chimes in finally, voice thoughtful. “But it’s also… not nothing.”

That lands. You glance back down at your phone, rereading the message. “She’s on her way back now,” you say softly. “And I don’t know what it is between us, really. She doesn’t either, I think. But I like her.”

Ellie whistles low. “Yeah, I’d say you do.”

You smile, but it’s cautious. “It feels like friendship… but sometimes it’s more. I don’t know.”

Ellie nudges your arm. “Whatever it is, you look lighter talking about her.”

You glance sideways. “Do I?”

Kika nods. “Yeah. You really do.”

⚽️

The front door swings open, keys clinking into the ceramic bowl by habit. Alexia exhales, the quiet of the house greeting her like a warm tide. She drops her gym bag just inside the threshold and kicks off her shoes.

“Hola!” she calls, voice casual, unsure if you’re upstairs or out with Teddy still.

She’s halfway through tugging off her sweatshirt when she hears the soft sound of bare feet padding down the stairs.

She glances up and freezes, because there you are.

Hair still damp from the pool, hoodie slung loose over your shoulders and unzipped all the way revealing your bikini. Legs bare. Skin kissed golden by the sun. And that easy, slow smile playing at your lips, like you know exactly what you're doing.

Alexia’s hand falters in her sleeve.

“Hey,” you say, leaning lazily into the bannister.

Alexia stares for a heartbeat too long. Then blinks. Then forces a smile that’s a little too tight around the edges. She goes to say something, anything, but instead, the keys slip right out of her hand and clatter to the floor.

“Hi,” she says, voice about half an octave higher than usual.

You smirk. “You okay there, champ?”

“I—yeah, I just…” She gestures vaguely toward her gym bag, like that explains anything. “Didn’t expect you to be home.”

You tilt your head. “Would you rather I wasn’t?”

Her eyes do a quick circuit, collarbone, boobs, abs, the line of your thigh, back to your face. She tries to act like she didn’t just get caught, but her ears are pink. “No,” she says, too fast. Then clears her throat. “I mean, no, it’s nice. You're here. That you're… here. I did ask you to be here after all”

You step down another stair, slow and deliberate. “Want to join me out back? The water’s cool.”

Alexia looks at you like she’s buffering, a blink, a small nod that doesn’t lead anywhere. “I should probably shower first,” she mumbles, eyes absolutely not dropping to your chest again.

You lift a brow. “Or… skip it. You look clean to me.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, like it might help her focus. It doesn’t. She meets your gaze and tries for something casual, something easy, but it comes out breathy and a little too soft, “Are you trying to distract me from something? Did you break something?”

You’re at the bottom step now, in front of her, hands tucked into your hoodie pockets, gaze locked with hers, calm, unreadable, dangerous, “Only if it’s working.”

Alexia exhales a short laugh caught somewhere between flustered and surrendering. Then, helplessly warm, “I'll meet you out there, I'm going to grab a drink” ⚽️

You’re stretched out on a lounge chair by the pool, sunglasses on, skin still damp from your last swim, a glass of iced water balanced on your stomach.

The patio door slides open behind you, and you hear the sound of her sliders before her voice follows.

“Did you paint the gym?”

You look up over your glasses to find Alexia standing there, one brow arched, arms crossed, clearly trying to sound neutral but there’s something else behind it. Surprise. Maybe even something a little softer. You push your glasses up and sit up on your elbows. “Yeah.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “You painted it.”

“Sure did,” you say, a little grin tugging at your mouth.

“Why?”

You shrug, glancing out at the water. “Because you’ve been talking about wanting to for weeks and haven’t had the time. And the paint was just sitting there.”

She takes a step closer. “So you just… did it?”

You nod once, then pause, voice quieting a little. “You let me stay here. You fed me. You don’t complain when I eat the last of the cereal or hog the shower or accidentally steal your hoodie for three days.”

That earns a small smirk from her, but she stays quiet.

“And you help more than you realise with everything. So I figured painting a room was the least I could do.”

There’s a beat of silence between you. Just the faint sound of pool water lapping at the edges and a bird somewhere in the garden. Then she huffs, soft and amused, and you catch the way her mouth fights back a smile. “You’re such a pain,” she says, but it sounds suspiciously like thank you.

You flash her a lazy grin. “You love it”

She rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t reach her because her gaze lingers on you, warm and full of something you don’t need to name. “…You missed a corner,” she says eventually, turning to head back inside.

You laugh. “Liar.”

Her voice drifts back over her shoulder.

“Come see for yourself.”

Your phone buzzes against the glass table beside you. You reach for it lazily, expecting some nothing text and freeze for half a second when you see your agent’s name lighting up the screen.

You sit up straighter in the lounge chair, slide your finger across the screen.

“Hey,” you answer, trying to sound casual, but your stomach’s already tightening.

“Got a minute?” she says, already brisk. “Just came off two more calls. Offers are still coming in.”

"Ok, what we working with?"

“…Yeah, I got the email from Chicago. Loan only, same salary. Portland’s offering more, but it’s still a temp deal,” she says, voice clipped with focus. “Roma wants a full contract, salary’s solid, but the clause structure’s messy. Wolfsburg’s interested but nothing concrete. PSG’s trying to be flashy. Again.”

The sliding door opens, and Alexia steps out. You glance up briefly and your words stall at the back of your throat for half a second and you forget all together what you were doing to say.

Because there she is, again this time in her bikini, low-cut top, sleek black bottoms, hair pulled back just the way you liked. She’s not looking at you, not saying a word just walks over quietly and sinks into the lounger beside yours with her water bottle, like she hasn’t just turned the sun up another twenty degrees.

You clear your throat and try to pull your brain back into the conversation. “Sorry. Right. Yeah. I’ve got… options then.”

Your agent laughs softly on the other end. “You’ve got the whole map of Europe and half the NWSL at your feet.”

You give a dry huff. “That’s not stressful at all.”

There’s a pause. Then your agent says, voice more serious now, “Best offer so far is from Barcelona.” You blink. “They’re not the highest-paying,” your agent continues, “but the fit, the team, the project, it’s strong. They want you long-term. You’d actually play. And they’re being real about it no fluff, they want a meeting with you. I feel what they've offered isn't there best theres room to haggle with them for sure”

You chew your lip, eyes flicking toward Alexia without turning your head. She’s still looking ahead, unreadable behind her sunglasses, but her fingers tighten just slightly on her water bottle like she can hear every word.

“And then there’s Lyon,” your agent adds. “They’ve upped their offer twice already. Crazy money. They want to win Champions League again, and they want you there for it, they think you could be the deciding factor to get there again.”

You lean back against the chair, letting the weight of it all settle over you for a second. The choices. The change. The future.

Your agent’s voice comes steady through the line. “So… want me to book the meeting with Barcelona? They’re asking for a sit-down. Nothing formal, just a talk. See where your head’s at.”

You pause, the silence stretching just a little too long.

Beside you, Alexia still hasn’t said a word. But you can feel her eyes on you now not directly, but in the way her body has gone still. Listening more closely. Waiting, for any clue to what was going on.

You exhale, sit forward, elbows resting on your knees. “Yeah,” you say quietly, but firm. “Set it up.”

“Tomorrow works?”

“Anytime,” you say. Then, without really thinking about it, “I’m here already. Visiting friends.”

Alexia doesn’t react. Not visibly, but you catch the tiny shift in her breath. The twitch of her fingers where they brush the condensation on her water bottle. That faint tightening around her mouth just for a second before it smooths out again.

“Alright,” your agent says. “I’ll confirm and send you the details. You’ll kill it, wherever you go.”

You murmur your thanks, and the line goes dead.

You set the phone down slowly, the buzz of decision still humming through your chest. Then you lean back again, turning your head just enough to glance at Alexia.

And then, softly, without looking at you Alexia asks, “What did she say?”

You glance over. She’s still facing forward, sunglasses on, but her voice gives her away casual on the surface, but too careful. Too not curious to be anything but.

You take a breath. “She ran through all the offers,” you say, watching her. “The best one so far’s Barça, Lyon seem very keen but overall the best ones Barca” Alexia doesn’t move, but something in her shoulders shifts then you add, gentler, “She’s setting up a meeting. Tomorrow.” You study her a second longer, then nudge her foot with yours. “I didn’t say yes.”

She finally turns her head toward you, expression unreadable behind the lenses. “But you didn’t say no either.”

“No,” you admit. “I didn’t.”

The silence between you lingers not awkward, but charged. Then Alexia shifts beside you, pulling her phone into her lap and unlocking it with a swipe of her thumb.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just taps a few times, then angles the screen toward you.

“Pere sent something,” she says quietly.

You lean over slightly to read. It’s the team group chat a flood of messages, emojis, a few memes but right in the middle is a message from Pere:

🔔 Important — for tomorrow. Need a few of you to come in for a club meeting. Nothing mandatory, just a presence. Volunteers only. Won’t take long. Let me know.

Below it, a trickle of responses. A thumbs-up from Aitana. A quick "I can" from Ingrid and Mapi. A few others.

“Pere messaged me directly,” she says after a beat, voice low. “Said there’s an important meeting tomorrow. Asked if I could make myself available.”

You glance at her. Her tone’s different now careful. Like she’s testing the water before stepping in. You tilt your head. “The meeting with me?”

She nods once. “Looks like it.” A pause. “I can make an excuse,” she adds quickly. “Say I’ve got physio or something. If it’s weird. If you don’t want me there.”

You study her the way she won’t quite meet your eyes, the way she’s trying to give you an out even if she doesn’t really want to. You let the silence stretch just long enough to make her start to squirm. Then you smirk. “Oh, so they’re bringing out the big guns for me now?”

Alexia lets out a short laugh, shaking her head, but you catch the small exhale of relief that slips out with it.

“I’m just saying,” you add, nudging her leg with yours, “if this is your club’s strategy to win me over, it’s not subtle.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not strategy, it’s… logistics.”

“Uh-huh. Logistics in a bikini.”

She laughs again, then quiets. More softly now, “Seriously, though. Are you okay with me being there?”

You look at her for a long second and nod. “Yeah,” you say. “and i'm intrigued how they’re going to use you to woo me”

[oohtobeagooner]

the pookiest 🤭🤏

[oohtobeagooner]

The aura this girl posses is insane. And that fucking tongue, erghhh. On my knees 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

[oohtobeagooner]

mami; b.eilish

smut

When she first said it, it took you a while to process it

"Okay, mami."

There was a smirk on her face when the words left her lips. They made you freeze and turn to face her. You'd completely forgotten what you were about to do and what you'd asked her to do. Nothing mattered except this now. Your full attention was on the brunette standing in front of you. Tilting your head to the side, you placed a hand on your hip.

"Mami?" you raised a brow sassily before crossing your arms like a mom about to scold a child.

"Si," she added smiling big. She did that adorable little squint that made you melt. Even though you really wanted to, you remained strong still trying to get to the bottom of this new word in her vocabulary.

"Where did you learn that, huh?" you asked with your brow still raised. You were almost tapping your foot waiting for an explanation.

"Mexico," she responded with her baby voice. She shrugged like she didn't know what that word meant. Like she didn't strategically drop it while you were in the middle of doing who knows what. You'd actually forgotten. Hearing her say it made your brain hazy.

"You better not be calling anyone else mami," you snarled pointing a finger at her menacingly, but she looked right through you. She always did. With a small chuckle, she extended her arms. Pouting, you walked into them allowing her to engulf you.

"I'd never," she whispered against your head before planting a soft kiss. You pulled away briefly, looking at her again.

"Or I'll give you pow pow," you joked, slapping her butt gently. She gasped and faked an offended look that quickly turned soft when you smiled. Cupping your face, she pulled you closer until your lips touched. They sparked and linked. Meshing in a sweet embrace.

That wasn't the only time she called you 'mami' and it wasn't the last.

It'd become a habit almost. Playfully calling you 'mami' when you were doing the most mundane shit around the house. It was natural now. You didn't question it.

Until one night.

Your body was swaying on top of hers. She held her arms securely around your back as you whimpered and tossed your head back.

"That's it, mami," she whispered watching your face contort in pleasure as you fucked yourself on her cock. It caught you by surprise. Your eyes opened immediately meeting her glossy blue orbs. They were filled with lust; lips plump and inviting calling your name.

"Say it again," you muttered out of breath while holding the back of her head as you bounced on her dick. She'd never used it during sex and you didn't know just how much you'd liked it.

It drove you mad.

Gripping the back of her head, you pulled her closer until your lips molded together. Her grip around your body tightened and you hummed in delight as you felt her cock rub on your cervix. You were clenching around her cock. So tight. So close. Just one more time and you'd unravel.

"Cum for me, mami" she pleaded on your lips as your mouth hung open and you moaned her name and you swayed your hips faster wanting to give her exactly what she wanted. What you wanted. What you needed.

She was never going to let you live this down and you didn't want her to. You craved it.

diaween 2024 💜

[oohtobeagooner]

the royal box II l.williamson

i think this is genuinely up there with one of my favourite fics i've ever written the royal box II l.williamson

"i'd love to do lunch! i should probably find my seat soon but maybe next week? i'll get my agent to text me my calendar." you smiled, kissing the girls cheek and clinking your drink against hers in goodbye as you turned back to the bar.

not having seen her since you'd walked your first runway years ago it never ceased to amaze you how small the world could seem at these type of events, truly never knowing who you'd run into next, most of them a pleasant surprise.

"shame they let anybody in here now, for a royal box it’s really going downhill." but that voice, that raspy tone and infuriatingly attractive accent, that voice was not a pleasant surprise, in fact it was anything but.

"leah." you didn't even need to turn to look at her as she appeared beside you, nursing a drink of her own as the pair of you watched the pre set warm ups commence on the court below, stood together at a large crystal clear double paneled window right by the bar.

"well it can't be that royal of a box if you're here. unless they invited you because you're a royal pain in the ass?" you met her gaze with a fake smile, sipping at your drink as she puffed air from her nose.

"well you never seemed to complain when i was touching your ass darling." she quipped back smugly as you finished your drink with a fake chuckle, reaching over to place the empty glass on the bar top.

you hadn't seen her in months and yet it felt like only yesterday those same bright eyes had been locked with yours, often at any and all hours of the night and rarely ever stone cold sober as you'd roll around in bed together.

but swallowing the past you plastered a polite smile on your face and turned back to her. “lovely of your dad to let you borrow his suit, though it could have been tailored a little better-” you gently knocked your foot against hers, heel dragging up the edge of her pants that indeed were a centimeter or two too long to reveal her ankles.

"-then again, might be best to hide those shoes. did you loan those from your grandad?" you grimaced, leah kicking your foot away with a scowl, necking the last of her own drink.

“well speaking of hiding what a lovely change for you to put on a dress that isn't two sizes too small and soaked in cheap tequila and regret." the blonde smiled charmingly reaching over your shoulder to put her empty glass down next to yours, gesturing to the bartender that she'd like another.

"then again i know thats all about easy access for you, isn't it?" leah smirked as your eyes narrowed but still the fake smile remained on your lips.

“i seem to remember you never minded. less material to rip off and toss on your floor first, then throw at my face once we were done and you wanted me to leave, right?” you retorted back, not missing the way her eyes dipped up and down to check you out.

“do I have a glow about me? i’ve just been getting so much more beauty sleep without the needy calls at three in the morning.” leah questioned, patting her cheeks gently with a smug glint in her eyes as you laughed politely.

“no i was actually going to suggest you try a new eye cream, anti aging maybe? and these frown lines…yikes. then there’s those angry little eyebrows-” your finger wiggled around in front of her face pointing things out, lips curling upward at the way the smug humor was promptly wiped from her features.

“at least my eyebrows are real.” leah was quick to bite, jaw muscles visibly clenching as you chuckled, not at all ashamed of the fact you got yours tattooed, something leah used to find endlessly fascinating.

“well in my defense i have had a lot of practice faking things, haven't i?” you grinned watching her jaw tense even more, knowing exactly which kinks in her armor to poke at to get a reaction even after all this time had passed.

"please. i know you miss me!" leah's eyes rolled cockily as you laughed sarcastically. “aw is that what you have to tell yourself to feel better? baby I haven’t missed you at all.” you promised as her eyes now rolled.

“yeah you wish, i’ve missed you even less.”

“did dad do your tie for you as well or have we learned how to do it ourselves by now?” you pouted mockingly, reaching over and tightening the knot of her tie as she pushed your hands away and quickly tugged it back looser again.

“booked any genuine campaigns yet or is mummy still flashing the nepotism card to get you on the runway?” leah pouted right back as you scoffed and she grinned, also knowing exactly where to poke at you to get what she wanted.

“please like you don’t stalk my socials, i see you watching my stories.” you snickered, eyes drifting away from her and back down to the court where things seemed to be about to start.

“you think about me so much you feel the need to check? do you post things hoping i'll see them? aw baby girl that’s so sweet of you.” leah cooed pinching your cheek as you smacked her hand off you with a glare.

“don’t call me that.” you warned, hating the glee which filled her face at your obvious discontent, cursing yourself internally for allowing her to see as much.

“oh i'm sorry, struck a nerve did i? good girl, is that better?” leah leaned in closer to whisper, lips grazing your ear as she grabbed a fresh drink from the bar and retracted, the hair on the back of your neck standing to attention.

you kept quiet at that, turning away from her and ordering a new drink of your own with a polite smile, still feeling her eyes on your back as she made no move to leave.

"surely there's some doe eyed idiot with a complex for athletes that you can go swoon with the stories of you kicking things to boost your microsized ego?" you rolled your eyes hearing her chuckle and move to lean against the bar right beside you again.

"footballs. kicking footballs, never could learn the rules or the lingo could you? or maybe you just pretend not to know so i'll explain to you over and over and over, always giving you the attention you want so badly." leahs finger swiped at your nose as you gave her a hard look and shoved at her shoulder.

"speaking of idiots, will that wet mop with teeth and a combover you call a boyfriend be joining us?” leah questioned, spinning around so her back leant against the bar top and her eyes scanned the room, everyone slowly filing out to find their seats.

"you really have been keeping tabs." you glanced up at her with a small smirk as she chose not to acknowledge your statement.

“but no he’s probably off partying in magaluf or ibiza spreading some sort of sexually transmitted disease, waving his little dick around and shoving it into everything that moves.” you rolled your eyes with disdain at the mention of your anything but loyal ex, the boy having slept with more women just while he was with you than you think you had your entire lifetime.

"ahh i see, ex boyfriend then. did he catch the sti from you? or was it one pregnancy scare too many that pushed the unwilling father to be away.” leah smirked though she felt you stiffen beside her and suddenly alarm bells went off in her head that maybe she'd taken things just a step too far.

"fuck you leah." you didn't even hang around to wait for your drink, giving the taller girl one final venomous look which made her stomach drop before you were storming off away from her to find your seat.

it had happened when you least expected it.

you'd not seen leah for a couple of weeks as she was on camp for england, but nothing about your hook ups regular or scheduled and certainly not monogamous you'd busied yourself seeing other people.

this night in particular it had been a rather handsome male model you'd been on a shoot with, accepting his offer of dinner and drinks once you'd wrapped for the day, raised never to say no to a free meal or a hot date.

one thing lead to another and later that night you found yourself in a club packed with blurred faceless bodies, surrounded by strangers and drowning yourself in shots to the point you didn't even remember leaving and going home with him.

there was however one thing that was burned into your mind, the biggest regret of your life as the condom had broke while the two of you were going at it.

normally you were always careful and you'd never be this stupid but the boy dismissing it himself you'd been far too drunk to disagree as he made no move to pull out.

not even getting to have a release yourself it had been a gloriously underwhelming seven minutes before he was satisfied and then suddenly too tired to return the favor.

again with potentially more cheap vodka in your system than blood you'd passed out beside him, spending the night in his bed and waking up hours later with a pounding headache and a deep rooted shame as you sat up and slivers of last night flickered through your mind.

grabbing your clothes you quickly dressed and fled his house, no idea where you were as you sat on his front steps and bounced your knee, the shame spreading through your body quickly morphing into anxiety as your fight or flight kicked in.

knowing there was one person who would answer this time of morning you clicked call, phone held to your ear and skin crawling with disgust as you prayed she would come through.

sure enough after only a few rings the dial tone clicked and you heard a yawn. "this is unusually early for a hook up even for you, what you need and miss me this badly?" the teasing tone and snicker died in her mouth hearing how you spoke her name.

"leah." you could barely get it out without crying, covering your mouth as reality set in and the blonde on the other end sat up in her bed, rubbing her eyes and trying to wake herself up properly.

"whats happened? whats wrong?" the concern in her voice was lost on you as you took a shaky breath. "can you come pick me up please? i don't know where i am but i can send you my location." you asked quietly, leah already out of bed and rummaging around for her car keys.

"yeah send it now, i'll be there soon."

you'd moved away from his house lingering on the curb out front when you heard her pull up, standing to your feet and hurrying to her car just wanting to get as far away from here as possible.

leah had intended to get out of the car to check on you but you were already up and opening the passenger door, sliding into her car and avoiding her gaze as you buckled yourself in.

"you alright?" leah asked cautiously voice thick with sleep, taking in your disheveled appearance and oddly quiet manner with a frown. "i'm fine." you muttered quietly, fiddling with your hands in your lap as you stared down at the floor.

"did something happen?" leah asked carefully though you knew what she meant, a gentle nudge to your side having her offering you a bottle of water she'd quickly grabbed from her fridge as she flew out the door.

"can you take me to a pharmacy please? there's one open about ten minutes from here." you asked after accepting the water with a quiet thank you, leah hesitating for a moment which you felt.

"leah, please." you finally looked up and met her gaze, silence filling the car as the blondes eyes raked over you. "actually don't worry i should have just called an uber or something i'm sorry." you shook your head, moving to unclip your seatbelt as leahs hand shot to grab yours.

"no, please i really don't want you in an uber by yourself right now. put the address in and i'll take you." leah promised softly, squeezing your hand and waiting until you nodded to let go, starting the car back up as you typed the address into her gps system.

there wasn't another word exchanged between the pair of you, leah focused on the road and your own gaze trained out the window, occasionally taking small sips of the cold bottle of water clenched in your hand.

"you don't need to come in, i can find my way home from here." you unclipped yourself as leah pulled up outside the small block of shops where the twenty four seven pharmacy was.

"thank you leah." you spoke sincerely and softly, leaning across the console to kiss her cheek, slipping out of the car before the blonde could even get a word out.

she sat there stumped for a second watching your figure disappear into the pharmacy, shaking her head and hurrying to unclip her own belt, turning off the car and hurrying in after you.

"leah what-" you looked up in surprise as she appeared beside you, crinkle of confusion in your eyebrows as the blonde opened and closed her mouth a few times.

"sunglasses! i need sunglasses and...pads?" she floundered around for an excuse, grabbing a pair of shades off the rack in front of you and slipping them on with an awkward smile.

you couldn't help but chuckle, seeing what she was doing but appreciating it none the less. "thank you." you smiled, leah nodding and darting off to grab the pads she had no intention of using as you waited for the pharmacist.

"what can i get for you love?" the older woman eventually appeared in front of you as you shifted uncomfortably. "can i get the morning after pill please?" you asked quietly, not missing the judgement that flashed across her face though it was gone as soon as it appeared.

you jumped at a loud clatter behind you glancing over your shoulder to see a flustered looking leah scrambling to clean up the pile of baby formula tins she'd just knocked over, sunglasses still covering her eyes.

"sorry! sorry! i just...i got this." leah motioned to the tins, cheeks flushed bright red in embarrassment as you bit the inside of your own cheek to hide a smile, hearing the pharmacist sigh.

"is this pill for yourself or someone else?" the woman asked in a monotone, kindness drained from her voice as the same cocktail of shame, anxiety and disgust leapt into your mouth like bile.

"myself."

"have you considered all of your options?" the woman asked again as you frowned with confusion. "my options?" you questioned as again the woman sighed as if you were doing her a grave disservice.

"your options. have you taken a test? seen a doctor? do you know if you are actually pregnant?" the woman raised an eyebrow as your mouth opened and closed a few times, caught off guard by the questions.

"excuse me? it is literally called the morning after pill. how would she have had time to go see a doctor and take a test? not that any of that is your business." leah was suddenly beside you, sunglasses pushed onto her forehead and signature scowl on her face.

"well i-"

"exactly. so can you please get her the fucking pill? legally i don't think she's required to do anything than prove she's of age to purchase it." leah warned seriously as the womans eyes widened and she nodded, quickly rummaging around behind her.

"here." she placed it down in front of you and rang you up, your phone tapping to pay as leah stared the woman down firmly. "thank you." the blonde smiled though it didn't reach her eyes, the two of you quickly making your way out of the store and back to leahs car.

"seems all i'm doing today is saying thank you." you smiled hovering by her car, leah dismissing it with a small wave. "you might need to wait and take that in a little bit though." leah gestured for you to get into the car as she rounded to her own side.

"why?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she started up the engine, arm draped across the back of your seat looking over her shoulder with a grin.

"well because i just realised i didn't pay for these sunglasses."

"we're at your place?" you questioned later as the blonde pulled into her driveway and cut the engine off. you'd already taken the pill during the drive, missing the way leahs eyes flickered to you every few minutes to check you were okay.

"yeah i figured you probably shouldn't be by yourself, just in case theres any side effects or anything." leah brushed it off as you nodded slowly, genuinely too tired and hungover to find an argument.

you followed her out of the car and into her home, finding it strange to be stood here in broad daylight and uncertain of what was to come, awkwardly wrapping your arms around yourself.

"do you want a shower?" leah offered as you glanced down and realised you really could use one, the thought of being able to wash off the remnants of last night too tempting to turn down.

"yeah that would be great, thank you."

you exhaled heavily as you exited leahs shower already feeling better, finding a bundle of clean clothes waiting at the door for you to change into.

you couldn't help but inhale as you wiggled yourself into her clothes, drowned in the scent of leahs expensive perfume and green apple body wash, unable to deny the comfort it strangely provided you.

"all good?" leah asked as you appeared, the girl also unable to deny the weird way her stomach twisted seeing you clad in her clothes. "yeah your water pressure is insane." you chuckled making her grin, licking a dollop of jam off her thumb.

"thought you might want something to eat but i haven't exactly done my groceries yet." leah offered you a plate of toast, slight pink blush in her cheeks, something you'd not seen from the footballer the entire time you'd known her.

"its perfect." you assured, ignoring the urge to tease her for blushing knowing the girl had practically saved you today and you owed her a great debt of gratitude.

"do you want to watch something?" leah offered, thumb pointing to the lounge as you nodded, following her over here as you sat down, leah right beside you with her own plate and grabbing the remote.

"is that...just plain bread?" you asked, amusement present in your features at the blondes choice of breakfast. "yeah, so?" she scoffed defensively as you raised your hands up in surrender.

"nothing...the stomach wants what it wants." you laughed, leah kicking you playfully and grabbing her plate, settling back into the lounge and propping her sock covered feet onto the coffee table.

"you watch this?" you asked with surprise as she flicked on last nights episode of big brother. "you don't?" she questioned with a mouthful of bread as you grimaced and knocked your knee into hers.

"of course i do, just didn't picture englands captain wasted her time on trashy reality tv!" you teased taking a bite of your toast as she shrugged, reaching behind her to grab a blanket off the back of the lounge, putting down her plate and gesturing for you to put your arms up as she draped it across the two of you.

"might be a god in the bedroom but i am still human." she winked as you jokingly gagged and she pulled a face, settling back down and munching on her plain bread as a comfortable silence fell between the pair of you.

you weren't sure when you fell asleep but you awoke several hours later dazed and confused. you tensed realising you weren't alone, an arm draped across your midsection as you groggily rubbed your eyes, blinking a few times and coming to.

you quickly realised it was leah draped across you, a mess of blonde hair covering her face as it was tucked into your shoulder, her arm slung tightly across your midsection, other hand intertwined with yours as you realised your fingers were interlocked.

you felt weird, no-you felt good. it felt strangely right to be in this foreign position with her and that was terrifying, the subtle and warm and welcoming domesticity of the situation filled you with dread and with fear.

you couldn't develop feelings for her, not for leah.

leah who wouldn't even look at you after she'd spend hours worshipping your body and having you chanting her name among all sorts of obscenities.

leah who would just toss you your clothes and wander off for a shower or roll back over in bed facing away from you, which you knew all too well was the unspoken cue for you to leave.

yet here she was curled up into you, legs stretched out across the coffee table and tucked under a blanket, holding your hand and your body in a way so tender you had almost forgotten what sincere non sexual intimacy felt like.

so you did what countless nights spent with her had trained you to, you left.

carefully unwinding yourself out of her grip the blonde had stirred but remained asleep, allowing you the time to shrug off her clothes and slip back into your dress from the night before with a disgusted grimace at the memories they held.

folding up her clothes and leaving them on the arm of the lounge you gave her one last look, a weird longing to just wrap yourself back up in her arms all you needed to push you out her front door.

leah had woken up not long after, frown on her face as she realized you weren't beside her anymore and the clothes you'd had on were neatly folded a few metres away, and since that morning leah hadn't heard a word from you.

you sighed deeply as you watched the blonde make her way down the row of seats, smiling and shaking hands as she went but heading right for you.

"you have to be joking." you mumbled to yourself as she dropped herself in the spare seat right beside you, not missing the way you physically recoiled and pulled your body as far to the other side of your seat as you could to get away from her.

"you forgot your drink." leah offered it out to you, giving an awkward smile as you glanced at her but accepted it none the less, taking a sip and sitting it down in the holder on your right.

"i'm not thanking you." you warned her, hoping that was all she wanted and would head off to another seat but you had no such luck as she wriggled around and made herself comfortable.

"look i'm really sorry i took that way too far and-" you almost thought you might not hear from her again as the set started, leah leaning in to whisper to you as your eyes closed and you sighed again.

"its fine, just shut up leah." you sharply cut her off, the blonde nodding and leaning back, both of you pulled into conversations with other people as the box buzzed with quiet chatter.

eventually though you once again found yourself with not much else to occupy you as the chatter died out and the match began to heat up, leah muttering commentary under her breath as you chanced a look at her and chuckled at the concentrated scowl on her face.

"what?" she didn't miss it as your head snapped forwards again and you shrugged. "no go on, whats so amusing?" she questioned crossing her arms and turning her body just slightly toward you.

"frown lines." you pointed to your own forehead and back to hers with a small smile as her cheeks flushed red. "oh." she was quick to relax her face, though as you chanced another look toward her a few minutes later you smiled seeing the scowl right back there again.

"shut up i can't help it, this stresses me out." leah knocked her knee into yours and crossed her arms over her chest. "why? have you given up football for a budding tennis career?" you chuckled as she mocked you and pulled a face.

"no. but i know what the pressure is like to play a sport at this high a level, and how hard you are on yourself for every little thing. even without the eyes on you here they'll be thinking about the media, fans, family, everyone is just watching and waiting, hoping you mess up or do something dumb they can rip you apart for." leah retorted as your face softened a little at her words.

"yeah i sort of understand that." you agreed, feeling not too dissimilarly when you walked a runway. "maybe i'll come to your next show and kick a football at you." leah commented casually as your head snapped toward her, the cheeky grin all you needed to know she was messing about as your eyes rolled and a small smile tugged at your lips which you quickly corrected.

"i saw that." "you're getting heatstroke. only you would wear a three piece charcoal suit in the middle of summer." "summer? have you seen those clouds? i'll put a tenner on that we don't even get through the next set before a rain break."

and annoyingly enough of course leah was correct, the day wrapping up as the skies had opened and an icy wind was whipping around the air, nipping and pinching at every scrap of flesh it came into contact with.

you nodded along with a polite smile, chatting with a few people as you were longing to leave, the cold chill setting into your skin as goosebumps appeared and your arms were wrapped tightly around you.

finally their own car arrived and they bid you goodbye, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as you checked the eta for your uber and saw it wasn't too far away.

"see i told you it would rain." you jolted as soft material settled over your shoulders, turning around to meet a familiar smile.

"don't. you're going to get yourself sick if you stand here shivering like an idiot." leah cut you off before you could even say what she knew you were about to, hands knocking away your own which tried to shrug off her suit jacket she'd draped over you.

"thank you." you admitted with a smile, leah nodding and checking her phone as you tried to ignore just how good she looked. "try not to get it wet, its not actually dad its dior!" the blonde smirked as you playfully rolled your eyes.

"got any plans for tonight?" you made conversation as the pair of you stood side by side, leah shaking her head and shoving her hands into her pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

before you were able to stop yourself or think it through the words were tumbling out of your mouth with a mind of their own.

"do you feel like a dance?"

a dance had been putting it mildly as you moved and swayed your body to the beat, bass so thunderous it pumped and shook the floor beneath you.

taking leah as your plus one you'd arrived to the party you'd been invited to, the blonde shocked to say the least as you'd dragged her into the large warehouse where it was taking place.

it had all started off tame enough, finding a table of your friends you sat down with leah by your side, the blondes charming demeanor taking over as she found no issues holding her own in conversation with them.

then someone had appeared with a round of shots, and well it all seemed to go downhill from there.

which hours later is what had head to the liquid confidence flowing through both yours and leahs veins, her body pressed against yours as lights pulsed around you only showing flickers of her face every now and then.

a familiar urge starting to grow in the coil of your stomach you grabbed the defenders hands, placing them on your stomach and pushing your ass back into her, leaning your head back on her shoulder and feeling her nose tuck into your neck.

“i think you’ve forgotten i know all of your tricks pretty girl.” leah laughed, lips grazing your ear as you strained to hear her over the thumping music engulfing the pair of you.

reaching up and tangling a hand in her hair you pulled her closer, lips kissing at her jaw and feeling her own hands begin to wander as your teeth tugged at her earlobe.

“and I think you’ve forgotten i know all your weaknesses, captain."

that was the final nail in the coffin, a small frown creased into your features as you felt her pull away and worried if you'd misread the signals you thought she'd been giving all night.

but all of that was blown to hell and back as her hand found its home against the back of your neck and she pressed into you again, leading you out of the mass of sweaty bodies on the dance floor.

a grin was plastered on your face as she snagged her suit jacket off the back of her chair and grabbed your hand with her other, pulling you with her toward the exit.

"hi." you smiled as the fresh air hit you, the pair of you wandering away from the drunken fallen soldiers littering the exit, leah pulling your body into hers as you hid yourselves around a corner out of sight.

"hello." she grinned back, hands falling either side of your face as your hand grabbed the back of her neck, finally pulling her mouth to meet yours as the pair of you melted into one another.

"this is a bad idea right?" you mumbled against her lips feeling her nod. "terrible idea." she pulled away momentarily, chest heaving and face flushed pink as you tangled your hands in her blonde locks and she grinned.

"so, your place or mine?"

~

"jesus christ leah." you exhaled shakily, rolling off of her and running a hand through your hair, struggling to catch your breath as you closed your eyes for a moment and felt her body vibrate with quiet laughter beside you.

"you still with me?" you opened them to see her hovering over you, cheeky smile on her lips as you nodded. "that certainly didn't sound fake." her smile morphed into a smirk as you pushed her and she collapsed back into the pillows beside you.

"that was what that was about? proving a point?" you struggled to get out, coming down from your fourth orgasm in a row. "no! well not the first three anyway, but that one? yeah that one was personal." leah confirmed cockily as you reached a hand over to gently slap her cheek, feeling her lips kiss at your palm with a chuckle.

the pair of you had barely made it through her front door, hands burning and twitching as you'd done your best to keep them off one another in the excruciatingly long uber ride back.

"fuck me." leah had exhaled as you wasted no time dropping to your knees in front of her the moment you'd crossed the threshold of the bedroom, tugging at her pants as she clumsily fumbled with her belt.

"i'm trying to." you'd grinned up at her making her eyes roll as she tangled a hand in your hair, having started off pleasuring her first and reaping in the moans you drew from the older girl while your face was buried between her legs.

then things had moved to the bed and leah wasted no time reminding you that just because you struck first she was the one in control, and what felt like hours later here you were struggling to return to earth.

"i should go." your body shifted back into autopilot as you'd finally caught your breath, sitting up and pushing your hair to one side of your head as you covered yourself with the blanket and leaned down to rummage through the pile of clothes on the floor for your own.

"or you could stay." you froze at that, time seeming to stand still as leah tried to push down the nerves which consumed her following her statement, fidgeting with her fingers which were hidden beneath the blanket.

“you never ask me to stay.” you still hadn't moved, arm slung over the edge of the bed and your dress in hand, this uncharted territory quite terrifying as you had no idea what would come next.

“you never seemed like you wanted to.” you sat up at that, looking down at her with a slight frown. "you never seemed like you wanted me to." you quipped back as leah sighed, running her hands down her face and flopping them onto the mattress.

"i didn't think i did." she admitted quietly, glancing up at you as you looked on curiously and nodded for her to continue. "i thought this was just casual hook ups. then you called me that morning from that guys house and hearing how upset you were made me worried, more worried than i would be for someone i didn't care about." she sighed, avoiding looking at you now.

"then we came back here and you showered and wore my clothes and we hung out and it felt good. i thought maybe we might be able to explore something more than just hooking up but..." she trailed off as now you looked away and bit the inside of your cheek.

"but then i left." you finished for her as she nodded. "why didn't you ever answer when i reached out afterwards?" leah asked as you shuffled back to lay down again beside her.

"well when i called you that morning i thought it was just auto pilot. but then you were so helpful and sweet and we did hang out which was different but not in a bad way." you paused to think over your next words.

"then i woke up and you were holding me which felt...good, and that scared me. we've never been intimate in a non sexual way and i guess i just assumed it was a reflex for you since you were asleep, because every time we'd sleep together-" you were stopped as leah cut you off.

"-i'd throw your clothes at you and expect you to leave." the blonde admitted, the two of you sharing a look and a small smile, cheeks flushed with color.

"yes. then i panicked because it felt good and different and weird, and i assumed you'd not share those feelings and just break things off anyway, so i broke it off first to save myself and here we are." your hand moved closer to brush against hers, a silence falling between you.

"so.." leah trailed off, her leg moving next to graze yours. "so..." you echoed, finger stretching to trace a line down the back of her hand.

"would you want to stay over then?" leah broke first, head turning to face you as you noticed the obvious worry in her eyes at what you would say.

"okay." you agreed, corners of your mouth tugging upward as her eyebrows raised in clear surprise. "but you’re making me breakfast in the morning.” you declared, leahs laugh echoing around the room.

"deal. jam on toast it is!" she teased, a warmth spreading through your body as her hand moved again to sit on top of yours, her fingers linking and sliding around your own, the blonde raising it up and placing a soft kiss to your palm again.

"well for me. just plain bread for you right?" you quipped back, catching her off guard as you leaned in and pecked her lips, darting back away before she could return the gesture with a twinkle in your eyes.

“a fun fact you’ll grow to love is i am a terrible chef.” leah admitted as now your laugh filled the room, shuffling closer and turning on your side to face her as she did the same, feet nudging yours apart to slot her leg in between yours.

“and what else should I know?” you smiled, pointer finger of your free hand tracing absentminded lines across her face. "mm well i eat a plain ham sandwich before and after every game, i am a huge star wars nerd, i love country music...and i would really like to take you on a proper date." leah finished with a smile that had you reeling, cheeks heating up even more.

"do the tips of your ears always go red when you're embarrassed? how have i noticed that before thats adorable?" leah cooed and tugged at them as you whined and leaned forward pressing your face into her shoulder.

"leave me alone." you grumbled, pulling your head back onto the pillow and resuming tracing the curve of her jaw. “i think you’re working backwards, I don’t normally sleep with women on the first date.” you teased, green eyes rolling playfully.

"well I don’t normally sleep with women i date.” she smiled charmingly for a moment before the realization dawned on her she'd not quite said that right and she frowned.

“no that came out wrong i meant i-" you didn't let her finish, pressing your lips against hers with a laugh, your mouths moving together in perfect harmony.

"shut up. i'd love to go on a date with you.” you promised, pecking her lips a few more times and melting at the way her face lit up. "yeah?" you nodded. "yeah."

"now something you'll learn to love about me, i've never seen a single star wars movie." you confessed, leahs jaw dropping in disbelief as she sat up so quickly it made you jolt in shock.

"what are you doing?" you questioned confused as she pulled her body away from you, rolling out of bed still completely naked and rushing around her room.

"you, are getting a movie education." she pointed to you threateningly, disappearing into her closet for a moment.

"right now? leah we just had sex i'm naked!" you laughed, wincing as a bundle of material hit you in the face, pulling it away and holding it up.

"oh this is the darth vader guy right? luke skywalkers dad?" you realised who was on the shirt as leah stopped her rushing about, stood at the end of the bed staring at you in disbelief.

"that is like the biggest plot twist of the franchise how on earth did you know that?" "leah...vater in german literally means father!"

"have you always been such a know it all?" leah scoffed as you rolled your eyes, sitting up and tugging her shirt over your head, reaching down to find your underwear.

"i'm making popcorn, get comfy!" leah called out as she darted out of her bedroom. "leah at least put some pants on!" you laughed at her naked form flitting around the kitchen.

"well another fun fact for you to know pretty girl, wearing pants is actually banned in this house."

[oohtobeagooner]

For a Good Time, Call… (epilogue)

summary: the future

warnings: brief mention of some sexy times but that’s about it

a/n: something small to round off this little series

word count: 732

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

-

You wake up to the feeling of being watched.

A jarring prospect for anyone at seven in the morning, but it’s something you’ve gotten used to over the years.

When you first moved in together, Leah had a very strange habit of watching you sleep. The first time you caught her doing it you acted out of pure instinct and socked her square in the face.

In your defense, it was early and you were half asleep. What else were you supposed to do when you’ve got a blurry shape leaning over you at the ass crack of dawn? Let yourself be murdered? You think not.

Her reasoning, you soon found out, was actually very sweet. She explained that she often woke up before you, unable to believe that someone as wonderful as you could actually be lying beside her. So, she would watch you sleep, just to reassure herself that you were real and that this life you shared together was not just a dream.

You’ll keep what happened after that to yourself.

Ah fuck it, you railed her into the mattress and gave her a limp she couldn’t shake for three days.

Olé!

Then there is Gus. Asparagus, for long. The beagle the pair of you got in year two of cohabitation.

You read a study a while back that told you that dogs behavioural habits actually tend to mirror those of their owners. And Gus was no different.

He’s impatient, has a serious case of fomo, and has a penchant to stand over your unconscious body and stare at you until you wake up.

Thank you very much Leah for your service.

His actions are purely food-motivated though, a trait you can’t fault him for. Gone are the days of oversleeping, for if you miss breakfast, you’re sure to wake up to the accusing brown eyes of Sir. Asparagus, silently reminding you of your responsibilities.

So with Leah’s side of the bed empty, and the unexpected lack of a cold snout poking into your forehead, that leaves only one option left.

“What are you doing up so early, Stinker?”

“Mum’s in the kitchen” comes the casual reply from your five-year-old.

Now that is a cause for concern.

Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you process Hazel’s words. Leah in the kitchen at this hour? It’s a rare occurrence, and one that usually spells trouble.

“Your mother’s in the kitchen?” you repeat, a note of surprise coloring your tired voice.

Hazel nods, her expression serious. “Yep, she said something about making pancakes”

You share a troubled glance with your daughter, both of you silently acknowledging the potential disaster imminently looming in the kitchen.

“We better go check on her” you say, taking a deep breath and swinging your legs out of bed. “Wouldn’t want her to burn down the house, would we?”

-

Just as you expected, Leah is cooking unsupervised. Well, Gus is there, but he’s more akin to a hoover than any form of qualified sous chef.

You’ll let him off. He doesn’t have opposable thumbs.

“Good morning” you say through a yawn as you pass over the threshold, Hazel trudging in behind you, her bare feet slapping on the tile.

“Morning gorgeous” she says automatically, then stills before she swivels on the spot. “Wait, what are you doing out of bed?”

“A little birdy told me you needed reinforcements” you tell her as you kiss her on the cheek, precariously eyeing the spitting oil and batter from over her shoulder.

Leah’s eyes slide over to Hazel who has perched herself at the kitchen island. “What happened to letting your ma sleep, hazelnut?” She chides.

“I’m fine” you insist, flipping a pancake on your wife’s behalf. “We’re fine”

Leah arches an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she glances between you and Hazel. “You’re sure about that?” she asks, her tone unconvinced. “You know, you’re not supposed to be doing all the heavy lifting around here”

You chuckle, and turn the gas off now all pancakes are stacked on their respective plates. “I know, I know,” you reply, waving off her worries. “But I’ve got it under control. Besides, I’m actually looking forward to eating food that’s not cremated”

“Same”

Leah turns towards her daughter again, “hey you! What’s gotten into you this morning?”

“Hungry” she shrugs. And you can’t blame her, you’ve been ravenous for months.

[oohtobeagooner]

Early Birds

summary: married mornings with Ale

warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering

a/n: i had an urge alright, humour me

word count: 447

-

Your legs are wrapped tightly around Alexia’s waist, fingers curling desperately into the fabric of her t-shirt. Her breath is hot against your ear, each exhale sending delicious shivers down your spine. One of her hands is nestled securely at the nape of your neck, fingers gently massaging the base of your skull. The other hand is under the hem of your dress, its fingers thrusting into you with a precise rhythm that makes your breath hitch. “You need to get a move on, Ms. Putellas. “We’re going to have company any minute”

She smirks, her lips mere millimeters from yours as she replies. “After these years it still turns me on when you call me that”

“Egotist,” you tease, your voice breathy and full of impatient need.

Alexia snickers, her hand moving around your neck to squeeze at your throat, her palm pressing against your windpipe. A moan gets caught on the tip of your tongue, and you kiss her hard, slipping your hands under shirt enough to slide your fingers over her chiseled torso. The heat between the two of you is stifling, the urgency to reach the finish line increasing with each passing second.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Alexia asks, her voice husky as she lets go of your neck, reaching past you towards the array of breakfast foods you’d set out for the morning. She picks up an apple slice, popping it into her mouth with a cocky smile, even as her fingers continue at the same eager pace she’s decided to set.

“Fuck” you close your eyes, trying to keep your breathing steady and your tone politely conversational. Her lips ghost along your jaw, her teeth catching your earlobe. Smug bitch. “I’ve got a meeting at ten thirty… a conference call at one… and Teo’s tennis match at three”

“And what about my morning?” Alexia’s fingers quicken inside you, and you arch against her, your thighs clenching impossibly harder around her waist.

“Training… Coaching. One of the two…” You take a hold of the countertop, pushing your hips forward to meet her. The friction was almost too much to handle. “Now, hurry up. Your children are will be down soon”

“Oh, so they're my children now, hm?” Alexia asks, her tone feather light but her movements anything but.

“When there’s a chance they’ll get between me and my orgasm, yes,” you retort, your voice breaking as your wife’s thumb finds your clit.

Alexia laughs softly, her breath hot against your neck. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to be quicker, won’t I?” She leans in, her lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as you moan into her mouth.

[oohtobeagooner]

[oohtobeagooner]

[oohtobeagooner]

never on here anymore but had to come back to post this beautiful human