samkerrworshipper

[samkerrworshipper]

Sunburnt - Alexia Putellas

Summary: The perfect vacation ends with you being spanked and sunburnt, all in the same day.

Word count: 10.2k

Warnings: (+18), spanking, d/s dynamics, use of dildo (r receiving), mention of skin burn (r is in pain, etc)

A/n: This fic has a little bit of everything! spanking, some smut, angst, also hurt comfort and sick!fic (r has sunpoison too)

Your vacation wasn't going as planned.

Well, it wasn't even a vacation, actually. You were in Switzerland with Alexia and the rest of the Spanish team.

You thought that Alexia's schedule wasn't going to be as busy as it was; that she would still be able to act as a proper human being after hours and hours of training, just like it was in Barcelona, where she got home tired most evenings, but still had energy to be with you, to go out, to hang out with friends and family.

But not here.

The Euros were a completely different competition from the League in Spain. The games' schedule, although fewer compared to the ones back at home, was more intense, both physically and mentally.

Alexia had booked a private room just for the two of you at the same hotel where the Spanish Confederation was staying.

That way, she could be with you and still participate in any extra activities the girls from the team might do, which included official tasks like a last-minute meeting while everyone was in their pyjamas, or a quick middle-of-the-night movie session organised by Patri.

The Euros had been hard and tiring, both for you and Alexia, but obviously more for her. But Alexia at least had things to do, work responsibilities that she had to attend to when she wasn't at the gym or on the pitch.

You, however, had nothing to do. Well, not anymore. 

You had visited every single restaurant, coffee shop and bakery around Lausanne (twice). You even visited the Olympic Museum, Lausanne's cathedral and the Tribunal arbitral du sport.

It's like you knew the city like the back of your hand after spending two weeks walking through its streets, waiting for Alexia to be done with whatever it was that she was doing.

You, as a very nice (very polite, patient) wife, hadn't complained to Alexia about it, but oh, were you getting bored of watching matches and training sessions for the last couple of days.

You had even taken days off from your work to be here with Alexia, so you couldn't even busy your mind with boring work stuff.

Time went on fast, and it wasn't thanks to the hours you had spent wandering the streets purposelessly. When you least expected it, the third week of the Euros had arrived. That meant the Spanish team (you included) were heading to Basel, another pretty city in Switzerland.

You took your time exploring the new city, which had a ridiculous amount of museums; not that you were complaining, especially as you made your way through the Kunstmuseum.

After one of your outings, you returned to the hotel room you were sharing with Alexia and noticed she was already there, probably released earlier from training.

You also noticed her agenda lying open on the mattress. You, of course, snooped through it while she was in the shower. The word 'México' was written across fourteen little squares, each one representing a day, in bright, bold letters that were impossible to ignore.

Blinded by foolishness (and way too many rom-coms), you immediately thought Alexia was planning a couples getaway - a short, romantic holiday.

You kept the 'Mexico' information tucked deep in your brain. You didn't want to ask Alexia about it, didn't want her to feel like her surprise was ruined just because you hadn't found better things to do than snoop through her things.

So you waited, and waited, and waited.

When the Euros were over, with that tragic ending (okay, maybe you were being a bit dramatic, but Alexia was hurt, alright?), you didn't have the courage to bring up Mexico, not when Alexia was so devastated.

Alexia spent three full days stuck inside the hotel room, cuddled up to you, her face tucked into the curve of your neck.

She swore up and down that she wasn't sad or upset. Whenever you begged her to open up and talk to you, she claimed she was just un poquito disappointed.

You knew your wife, so you let her believe she wasn't completely wrecked; you let her deal with it in her own way, which meant ignoring her emotions and pretending to be fine.

You didn't talk about football for three whole days; only when Alexia brought it up did you mention the sport. You were playing your part in her act, pretending alongside her that she was fine.

But then it happened.

As you two were having dinner in the hotel room, she just started crying - something that absolutely wasn't common for Alexia. She didn't like to cry, not in front of others, and certainly not in front of you, not even after six years together.

You let her cry, holding her tight against your chest, kissing the top of her head and promising it would all get better soon, that the pain wouldn't hurt for much longer.

She fell asleep like that, her warm breath on your neck, soothing you into your own sleep.

When you woke up the next day, Alexia was more distant, as if the weight of the loss was really settling in.

She wasn't as clingy as she had been and didn't want to explore the city with you; in fact, she didn't want to do anything that didn't involve rotting in bed or having dinner with her mom.

But again, you were a very good and patient wife, so you gave her space and time.

You gave her exactly what she needed: silent support and comforting - but not overwhelming - company.

After those days of grief passed, you slowly started getting your lovely wife back. You couldn't be happier to see Alexia smile again, to see her enjoy the rest of your days in Switzerland together with her by your side.

Alexia was being more physical again: kissing you in the mornings, murmuring sweet nothings against your temple before getting up to start the day. She (unfortunately) started her workout routine again, which meant you were woken up at 8 am every day just to go to the gym with her.

Not that you minded so much; Alexia always wore the tiniest shorts, so you had a hell of a good view while running on the treadmill.

Her hands were back on you again, more commanding than they had been before the tournament.

There was always a firm grip on your waist whenever you took too long getting ready; her fingers would lazily tug at your ponytail when you weren't paying attention to her.

She would give you a look when you were being too whiny for her liking - like she needed to remind you what type of behaviour was acceptable and what wasn't.

Alexia started doing that thing again, where she would stand behind you while you both brushed your teeth, hands on your hips, watching you in the mirror with an intensity that made it look like she was trying to memorise every detail of your face.

And at restaurants, she would order for you without asking, her hand finding your thigh under the table whenever you began to protest or when a pout formed on your face.

Even though Alexia's vulnerable side was endearing, you had also missed dominant Alexia. A lot

But still, after weeks, no Mexico was mentioned. No 'romantic trip' was spoken of either.

You were starting to get anxious and restless. Alexia noticed - she could read right through you.

You were in a small café, still in Switzerland, trying to enjoy the last few days before returning to Barcelona.

The coffee was hot in your hands, comforting given the cold weather. It was technically summer, but Switzerland's summer felt like Barcelona's autumn. You didn't like it - you were a sun child.

"Qué te pasa?" Alexia asked while still reading her menu, thinking about what to order.

Alexia was methodical, a little too much.

She had to consider all her options and weigh them before making a decision. You, on the other hand, were quick to order if you saw anything with the word 'chocolate' in it. Much easier, much simpler.

"Nothing," you said, your eyes peeking over the rim of the mug, the hot liquid making your glasses foggy. For a moment, you couldn't see Alexia, though she quickly grabbed a napkin and cleaned the visible portion of your glasses.

"You're a bad liar, mi vida," she smirked, glancing at you quickly before letting her eyes fall back to the menu. "I've already told you that."

You gulped.

You had learned the hard way that Alexia could spot your lies from a mile away; she didn't appreciate them. The way her jaw would tighten, how she would get that look in her eyes that meant you were in for it later.

You had gotten yourself in trouble more times than you could count, saying you were fine when you weren't, promising you had eaten properly while she was away when you had survived on coffee and whatever was in the hotel minibar.

She expected honesty from you, always. You, however, had a bad habit of telling her what you thought she wanted to hear, especially when the truth felt inconvenient.

She knew you had this habit, so she enjoyed the challenge of seeing whether you were being honest or not. It was like a little game of cat and mouse between you two.

It was hot, felt dangerous, depending on Alexia's mood. But right now, you weren't in the mood for lying, so you gave her the truth.

"Well," you began, taking another sip of your hot chocolate, your glasses fogging up again. "I was snooping through—"

"Snooping?" Alexia hummed, not looking at you, but you saw (barely through the fog) a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Snooping," you nodded confidently. Nothing wrong with looking through your wife's agenda, right? "And I saw a possible trip…"

She didn't let your words hang for long. "Mexico?" she said, lifting her fingers to call a waitress over.

"Sí," you said. She was holding your gaze now, making you feel exposed, even though you knew her eyes held nothing but love.

She looked at you, then waved her hand, waiting for you to continue.

"Mmm," you said, looking at your drink. "Is it like a work trip or…"

"Vacation," she said, interrupting you. "Us."

"Us?" you asked. Your mouth was open, ready to keep speaking, but then the waitress came, and Alexia held up her palm.

"I want a straight black coffee, por favor," she told the woman before turning her attention back to you.

You tilted your head. "Did you spend ten minutes looking at the menu just to get a straight black coffee?"

She shrugged. "Did you look at yours for thirteen seconds before asking for hot chocolate with chocolate chips added?"

You narrowed your eyes at her, slightly annoyed. "It wasn't thirteen seconds," you mumbled.

"It was," she said, leaning back into her seat, radiating confidence. You missed confident Alexia, too.

"No," you said, lifting your chin, "more like thirty seconds."

"Cabezona…" she said, with a sly smile. "You won't get to go on the Mexico vacation if you keep up this attitude."

The threat was playful, but you could see something shift in her expression, something warmer, something that had been missing between you two for some time.

"And then what would happen?" you said petulantly, leaning forward slightly. "You would go on vacation alone? Two weeks without me?"

"Sí," she nodded.

You placed your elbows on the table, getting closer to her. "You wouldn't survive two weeks without me."

You expected her to tease you back, maybe give you that look that meant you were pushing your luck. But instead, her hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing across your skin, and her eyes went soft, just like her voice.

"You're right," she said, barely above a whisper. "I would miss mi niña bonita."

One week later, and you were in paradise.

The flight to Mexico was smooth, and you spent most of it stealing glances at Alexia, still not quite believing this was actually happening. The first few days, you accompanied her to Mexico City to an More Than Eleven event, and then you two made your way to Los Cabos.

You two were staying in one of the most expensive hotels in the region, and everything was perfect, almost too perfect.

You and Alexia had sex more times than you could count, and there was something about the Mexican air that made Alexia more relaxed. 

She barely used her authoritarian voice; she let you get away with things she normally wouldn't, and you were surely making the most of it.

There was something about being away from Barcelona, away from football and schedules that made Alexia different. Softer, somehow, (she didn't like it when you used that word with her, though).

Alexia would wake up and kiss your shoulder before checking her phone; usually, it was the other way around. The stress of being a captain would take over her whole routine.

Alexia also let you choose restaurants without reading every single review first or trying to find the menu online, so she could have an idea of what to order.

She even let you take forever deciding what bikini to wear without that little impatient sigh she usually gave you, choosing to step aside and just watch you trying different pieces over and over. (For the first few days, anyway).

But now, on day five, you could see her patience starting to wear thin with how long you were taking to get ready. You saw it in the way she kept looking at her watch, her feet stomping on the hardwood floor of the hotel, creating an annoying pattern of thud thud thud.

"Vamos," Alexia said impatiently, her voice carrying that tone that made you tremble a little, a voice that made it clear that she wasn't asking.

You were in front of the bathroom mirror, the open door giving you a clear view of Alexia. She was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and fuck, she looked good.

She was wearing the smallest bikini you had ever seen. It was black, and the bottom of it was only covered by a pair of see-through white shorts that were, also, very small - illegally small - and that was rich coming from you, someone who loved to show a bit more skin than necessary.

You couldn't read her face properly. She was wearing her sunglasses, which was annoying; you were still inside, so technically, there was no need for that, but Alexia liked to keep you on edge, have the upper hand on the smallest things.

"Wait a little bit, Ale," you said, but your voice came out smaller than intended when you caught her reflection in the mirror. "I'm just getting my hair ready."

You couldn't see her pupils, but you knew she was looking right back at your reflection, as if already seeing how the day was going to turn out, realising that you were going to be more difficult than you had been since you two checked into the resort.

"It's a beach, mi amor," Alexia said, pushing off the doorframe and stepping behind you. Her hands found your waist, her thumbs stroking over your hip bones. "You look perfecta."

The way she said it, low and warm against your ear, made you forget that you were even worried about your hair, like she would worship you no matter how you looked.

"The beach won't move from where it is, Alexia," you managed, but your voice was breathier now, especially when her fingers started playing with the ties of your bikini bottom.

"No--" she agreed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, the sunscreen she used leaving a trail on your skin. "—but I might change my mind about being patient."

The threat in her voice was gentle, but you knew Alexia well enough to know she meant it.

When she wanted something, she got it. And right now, she wanted you on that beach. Fast.

Alexia was all about taking control, and you got off on giving it to her, although the whole beach situation was just another little piece of your rather peculiar dynamic.

"Okay, okay," you said, turning in her arms, feeling her lips on your forehead. "We can go now."

She smiled, seeming pleased. "Buena niña."

The praise made your cheeks warm, and Alexia noticed, of course, she did, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip before she stepped back.

"But first," she said, reaching for the sunscreen on the counter and pressing it into your hands. "This."

You looked down at the bottle, then back at her. "Right, yes."

"All of it," Alexia said, her eyes serious now, and fuck, you loved when she got all protective like this. "Today is going to be very hot, and you burn easily, mi vida. I don't want you hurt, especially because I have lots of ideas of what we can do tonight."

The way she said it, like your well-being was her personal responsibility, made something warm settle in your chest. But also - and this was the problem - you were already running late, and you really didn't want to get all greasy right now.

Your body looked so incredibly beautiful at this moment, the morning light was hitting your skin just right, and you knew the thick sunscreen Alexia insisted on using was going to mess up the pictures you were planning to take later.

You could put it on at the beach, right? Once you were there and had taken the photos, once you had gotten settled under the umbrella. It would be fine.

You had done it before - well, maybe not in Mexico, but still, you had done the exact same thing in Ibiza, and you didn't even burn. Okay, maybe Los Cabos was closer to the Equator line than Spain was, but that didn't matter now.

"Of course, amor," you said, giving her your brightest smile. "I'll do it in a second."

Alexia studied your face for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay. But don't forget, por favor."

"I won't forget," you said, smiling and pecking her on the lips before putting the sunscreen back on the counter, watching as Alexia turned around to pack whatever you two would need in one of your eco bags.

You took the last few seconds to just fix one little strand of hair that was out of place. Just this one strand, and then you would grab the sunscreen and put it in the bag for later.

You would apply it at the beach, obviously.

You weren't stupid. You would put it on once Alexia made her way to the sea to check the water temperature. You'd apply it quickly so she wouldn't even know you hadn't done it when she asked.

You intended to pack the goddamn suncream. You really did.

But then Alexia was calling 'Vamos, now' from the other room, and your hair still wasn't quite right, and before you knew it, you were grabbing your sunglasses and following her out the door.

The sunscreen bottle sat abandoned on the bathroom counter. You hadn't even realised you had left it behind.

Twenty minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of the rental car, watching Alexia adjust the mirrors, completely focused.

Alexia was trying to hide it, but you could see how eager she was to go to the secluded beach that she had read about in one of the hotel flyers. You didn't know anyone (besides Alexia) who still actually read those things.

"Excited?" Alexia asked, reaching over to squeeze your knee before starting the engine.

"Very," you said, and you meant it.

Today was supposed to be different.

You and Alexia had spent the first days of the vacation mostly at the resort beach, and while you had gotten very familiar with every inch of your hotel room (and each other), there was something exciting about exploring somewhere new, somewhere that was so isolated that it wasn't even considered a tourist spot.

Alexia looked gorgeous behind the wheel.

Her sunglasses were reflecting the morning sun, one of her hands was on the steering wheel, while the other found its way back to your thigh, almost possessively.

You were being a good passenger princess, feeding her pieces of the mango you had grabbed from the breakfast buffet and playing with her fingers when they weren't needed for driving.

The GPS was telling you to turn left in one kilometre, but you were too busy watching the way Alexia's lips curved around the fruit and how some of its juice was dripping down her chin to pay much attention.

"Left here?" Alexia asked, slowing down.

You glanced at your phone. "Um, next one, I think."

She raised an eyebrow but took the next turn, now feeding herself with the last bits of fruit. Five minutes later, when you passed the same place for the second time, she pulled over.

"Mi amor," Alexia said, and there was that patient but warning tone again. "Are you looking at the GPS or are you watching me eat?"

"Hmm, both?" you tried, giving her your most innocent smile.

"Mmm," she hummed, not entirely convinced. "Focus, por favor. I want to get there while it's still early."

You nodded, actually looking at the GPS this time, but your mind kept wandering.

There was something you were supposed to remember, something important, but Alexia's thumb was doing that thing on your leg, and your mind just wasn't working properly anymore,

Since she had pulled over, Alexia decided to finish eating her snack and clean her face before she started the engine again.

"Ok, so do I turn right or left now?" she asked, trusting that, now that you weren't as distracted, you would be of good help.

"Right," you said, looking down at the phone. Definitely right.

"Are you sure?" she gave you a side eye.

"Pretty sure," you said, checking the GPS one more time.

"Okay…" she said, taking the right. When she saw the road sign that said 'Playa', she finally relaxed. You were on the right path.

You were quiet for a moment, distracted by the way her thumb was stroking over your leg. Comfortable silence filled the car, with only soft music playing on the radio.

You watched the landscape as Alexia drove; everything was so beautiful here, the plants, the different kinds of birds and—

"Hey," Alexia said suddenly, and something in her tone made you look at her, leaving the pretty flowers and animals only in your memory. "You put on the sunscreen this morning, right?"

Your stomach dropped.

Shit. Shit. shit. shit.

The sunscreen…the fucking bottle on the bathroom counter.

The thing you were definitely going to remember to grab on your way out, except you had been too busy fixing that one stupid strand of hair that wouldn't cooperate, and then Alexia was calling for you, and it was getting late and-

"Hm, yes, I did," you lied, not looking at her, suddenly very interested in examining the air vent.

But of course, Alexia wasn't going to let it go that easily. She was methodical. She noticed everything, especially when it came to you.

"I didn't see you applying it," she said, and her voice was different now, a bit sharper.

"But I did," you said, trying to keep your voice steady even though your heart was racing.

"How come I didn't see it?" The radio volume went down. Fuck.

"You aren't omnipresent," you said, trying to sound playful, but it came out a little too defensive.

"I am omnipresent while on this vacation," Alexia said, and the way she said it made you feel warmth spreading through your body; that authoritative tone was back. "We are together 24/7."

"Don't exaggerate." You finally looked at her, giving her one of your dopey smiles she usually loved. "We are not as together as you think."

Alexia hummed (but it wasn't the good kind of hum).

"There's no sunscreen in the bag," she said, voice controlled in a way that made your thighs press together. How come her voice could get you wet?  "But I can turn around right now and go back to get it. If you didn't use it."

She was giving you an out. One last chance to tell the truth. But you could see how much she wanted to get to this beach, could see how she had been looking forward to it.

You didn't want to ruin her day over something so stupid.

Besides, it was just a few hours. You would stay under the umbrella or in the water. It would be fine.

You wouldn't get too burnt…maybe a little red, just enough for it to pass as a tan.

"Alexia, I already said I put the sunscreen on", you said impatiently, as if you had any reason to be annoyed.

Alexia was quiet for a long moment.

She didn't acknowledge your answer right away; she just drove. You could see her take in a deep breath, both her hands gripping the steering with with a bit more force than necessary.

It was like you could see the neurons in her brain working. She was torn between stopping the car in the middle of nowhere to: 1. Check if you really had applied the sunscreen, and 2. Give you a punishment for being short with her.

You didn't comprehend what kind of neuron path she chose, because the only thing she did was slide her hand higher up your thigh, her fingers pressing down just hard enough to make you really feel her.

"Okay then, mi vida," she said, her voice soft. "I know you wouldn't lie to me."

The squeeze she gave your thigh left no room for misinterpretation.

You were in trouble already, and you both knew it.

..

The sun was hot on your back, and the sand burned your feet. You were sweaty already (and so thirsty). Alexia wasn't playing when she told you today was going to be one of the hottest days of the season.

She was walking in front of you, holding the umbrella, the beach loungers, the bags with your belongings and snacks while you were just walking behind her.

If you weren't burning alive, you would have tried to get on her nerves with the 'why aren't you holding my hand?' prank, but it seemed like all your playfulness was left in the (cool, air-conditioned) rental car.

You liked the beach, you loved summer, but oh god... summers in Spain were completely different from whatever hell you were experiencing in Mexico (affectionately).

You felt as if your body was melting into the sand, a trail of your cells being left on every single grain of the arid beach.

But that was fine, totally fine. You were just being dramatic, right? (You were absolutely not being dramatic).

When Alexia said the beach was secluded, she meant it.

It took two hours to get there, and there wasn't a single soul you could see. There weren't any seagulls or crabs, as if they knew better than to be out in the sun during such a hot day.

The beach was so far from everything that the last gas station or store was hours behind you, meaning that you couldn't sneak off to buy sunscreen without Alexia noticing.

Which meant that you would either stay protected from the sun, or you would get burnt.

It was so hot and the UV rays were so powerful that, even under the umbrella Alexia had set up, you could feel your skin burning by the minute. You weren't getting red just yet, but fuck, you could feel it coming.

Alexia knew something was wrong. She always did.

You usually liked to go for a swim first thing after getting to the beach, then you would beg her to take a million pictures with you before settling on the lounger under the sun, working on your tan.

It was like your beach routine, and Alexia knew it by heart.

None of that was happening. You were lying down on the lounger, sure, but with how heavy the umbrella's shade was, you would never get a tan, something that you loved to do.

It was like you had turned into a vampire who couldn't handle any sunlight.

When Alexia asked you to go to the shore with her to pick up some seashells, you shook your head (way too quickly) and smiled.

"I think I will rather just chill here--" you said, trying to sound casual instead of like someone who was feeling like her epidermis was going to dissolve within the next couple of hours.

"--I read somewhere we aren't even supposed to pick up seashells …bad for the environment or something like that."

Alexia narrowed her eyes at your figure, looking at your body up and down. You could feel the intensity of her stare even though she was wearing her sunglasses.

Your skin looked perfect, beautiful, like it always did, but it didn't have the usual shimmer from sunscreen.

You also didn't smell like sunscreen. You could tell Alexia noticed when she came over to kiss your cheek - the way she lingered just a second too long, breathing you in.

When she offered you a back massage, her hands had paused on your shoulders, probably expecting to feel that familiar slick texture, but nothing came.

"Mi amor," Alexia said, settling into the lounger next to you, but her voice was so careful that it screamed suspicious. "Are you feeling okay? You're acting...different."

"Different how?" You asked, looking at her, feeling your heart skip a beat. Great, you were getting burnt alive, and your circulatory system was about to give out.

"You didn't go swimming, you won't leave the shade, you're being very quiet..." She tilted her head, studying you. "Are you sure you put sunscreen on this morning?"

And there it was. The question you had been dreading since you got out of the car.

"Alexia," you said, trying to sound exasperated instead of panicked, "I already told you I did." But your voice came out just a little too tight, and that's when Alexia took off her sunglasses.

You tried to look the other way, tried to seem interested in the wave patterns, but Alexia's hand grabbed at your jaw, turning you to face her.

Her eyes were burning into you, just like the sun rays were blazing against your skin. 

Suddenly, the world felt hotter, as if there was a conflagration happening somewhere near you, and by the way Alexia was looking at you, you were sure her gaze was the match that lit it.

"Are you allowed to lie?" Alexia asked, very calmly, her face completely blank. You could not read what she was thinking, what she was planning to do with you.

You wanted to shake your head, but her fingers were holding your face so tightly you knew it would leave marks.

You had to use your words.

"No," you said, voice low and guilty, embarrassed by how long you had tried to hide the truth.. "I'm not allowed to lie."

You hadn't expected the slap to come so fast - but it did. Alexia's palm landed on the side of your thigh, right over the knot of your biking bottom.

It stung immensely.

Partly because of the force of it, partly because your sensitive skin was already burning on its own. You couldn't help but wince when another smack came right after.

If Alexia seemed bothered by how uncomfortable the spanking was, she didn't show it.

There was no soothing touch to your bruised skin, no comforting words leaving her mouth. Alexia was furious, absolutely furious.

Her face was cold, her lips pressed tightly, a frown appearing on her forehead as she looked at you closely.

"Then why did you lie to me about the sunscreen?" she asked, hitting your thigh again, harder this time.

"I-I didn't want to make you go back an-and I just realised I forgot the suncream when we were already closer to the beach and--"

Tears started to pool in your eyes, and that's when Alexia's demeanour shifted to something softer, but not necessarily forgiving. 

You didn't even notice how she did it, but in a swift motion, you found yourself straddling her, her back pressed against the lounger.

She didn't say anything as tears streamed down your face, but she kept a thumb on your cheek, wiping each one away, while her other hand found its place on your thigh, right over the mark she had left adorning your skin. 

"You didn't apply the sunscreen like I told you to," Alexia reprimanded, moving her thumb from your cheek to grip your chin, making you look at her.

"I forgot—"

"No," she shook her head, jaw locked tight. "You didn't forget. You ignored me."

You didn't say anything, just swallowed.

"How many times did I ask you to use it?" Alexia asked again. Her eyes stayed on you,  and her hand was resting on your sore thigh

"A lot," you replied.

"A lot," she repeated, as if she couldn't believe this argument was happening. "And now look at you. You are already turning red, and that's even before I laid a hand on you.

Silence.

She shifted you on her lap so she could bring her torso closer to yours, her mouth dangerously close to your ear. 

"I should have spanked you more," she hissed. "Just to see if a punishment would finally make you listen."

You didn't argue. You were looking down, avoiding her gaze. You felt stupid now, dumb for thinking that you could get away with it, guilty for ruining Alexia's vacation.

Her lips brushed against your ear as she spoke quietly.

"Tomorrow, you won't step a single foot in the sun without me. You're going to stay inside the hotel room until your skin is healed properly. Do you understand me?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

"Words," Alexia said, pulling back to look at your face. "I want to hear you say it."

"I understand," you whispered, and your voice came out all shaky and small.

Alexia studied your face for a moment; her expression was unreadable, but when she finally spoke, her voice was still firm.

"Good. Here's what's going to happen," she brushed her thumb on your thigh again "We're going to pack up and head back to the hotel. Your skin is already burning, and I'm not letting it get worse."

You wanted to protest, to say that you had just gotten here, that she had been looking forward to this beach all morning. But one look at her face told you that arguing wasn't an option.

"What about your beach day?" you murmured, feeling the guilt eating you alive. "You were so excited about it."

"Do you really think I care about some beach?" Alexia asked, jaw tightening even more. "Sí, I wanted to stay, but your skin is already irritated. I should have made sure you had applied the sunscreen before leaving the hotel," she murmured the last part, but it was enough for you to hear it.

"But I'm the one who lied—"

"Sí," she said, thumbs stroking your cheeks. "You disobeyed, you lied, and now you're paying the price. And we will talk about that later, but right now, you are more important."

She said it like you were the most important thing in her world (even when you had fucked up). It made you want to cry all over again.

"I'm sorry, Ale," you said, and you meant it. "I'm really sorry. I just... I didn't want to disappoint you by making us go back, and then I made everything worse—"

Her thumb pressed lightly against your sore skin, a warning more than a comfort, making you keep quiet.

"I don't want to hear a word from you the whole way back to the hotel," she ordered. "Got it? This is your punishment, since a more physical one isn't an option."

You had to fight the urge to talk back to beg her to let you speak, to let you mumble over and over how sorry you were, but you also didn't want to make Alexia more angry, so you just nodded.

She let her hand on your face linger for a bit longer; you leaned into her touch.

"You have to trust me to take care of you, even when it's inconvenient." Was the last thing she said before she gripped your hip, guiding you off her lap, back to your lounger.

Then she stood up and gathered your belongings.

You watched, feeling the place where she smacked you sting just like every other part of your body.

Your cheeks were starting to burn, your nose too. You were feeling hot, so fucking hot, you just wanted to feel cool again

"Okay, get up," Alexia said without looking at you, shoving the last of your things into the eco bag. "We're leaving."

Her voice was sharp, and her attitude cold, but even then, she managed to gather everything in one hand just so she could reach her other hand out to you, a small and temporary peace offering.

You took her hand, letting her pull you through the sand back to the car.

You let Alexia lead, following close behind. The sting on your thigh was hurting with each step, but it didn't hurt more than the guilt of ruining Alexia's day because of your stubbornness.

"I'm not going in there," you said, stomping your feet to the ground, taking a few steps behind until your back was pressed against the bathroom wall, and for a few seconds, you felt relief from the contact with its cold tiles

You knew you were being difficult.

You knew Alexia was really trying to control the urge to just bend you over her lap and spank you. But there was no way in hell you were getting into the shower, not with the way your back was burning.

You had a fair share of sunburns throughout your life (maybe not as severe as this one), but it was enough for you to know how much showering while sunburned hurt.

"I'm not asking, Y/n," Alexia said impatiently, your towel already in her hand. "Get in there. There's sand everywhere. I don't want our room to turn into a desert."

"But it will hurt," you pouted, looking at her with the biggest doe eye you could pull, trying to soften her up…but of course, it didn't work."

She didn't have to say anything; not a single word left her lips, but the way she was looking at you was enough to make you walk towards her, head down.

It was the kind of look that screamed how close she was to losing it, how close she was to punishing you, to putting you in your place.

If your skin wasn't scarlet red, you knew she would have you knelt in a corner of the room by now, or even used the belt on you. But she was being compassionate; you, however, were being very bratty, even though you didn't intend to act like one.

"I don't care if it hurts," Alexia said as you stood in front of her; she turned you around with a hand on your hip before untying the knot to your top, letting it fall to the floor.

"You are in this situation because you didn't listen to me," she continued, her mouth on your ear as her index finger pulled your bikini bottom down, leaving you naked. "—and now you are making it all harder because, guess what? You still aren't listening."

The sound of the slap echoed through the bathroom before you could even feel it.

Your body instinctively tried to create some distance between you and Alexia, but her hand was firm on your waist, keeping you in place.

"It's like you want to get on my nerves today," Alexia said, caressing the place she just smacked. "You are hurt. I know your skin is burning, but you still want to be a brat and do whatever you want to do? That's not how it works."

"But I just don't want—"

Another smack, to the other side of your ass now.

The pain rushed through your body; there was usually pleasure that came any time Alexia spanked you, but your skin was so unbearably sore that no endorphins were released into your bloodstream.

"Are you going to behave now, or do I have to keep on being mean and hurt you more than you already have?" She asked, her voice sharp. "Because if you don't care about your own body, I won't care either."

You knew she wasn't playing around.

That if you so much as disobeyed her form now on, she would treat you as if it were just another day that you were misbehaving; she wasn't going to be soft.

You didn't want that, especially since your burnt skin was hurting more and more by the second.

"I'm going to behave," you said quietly, looking down. "I'm sorry."

There was silence; you couldn't feel Alexia's presence at your back anymore. Still, you knew better than to turn around. You heard the shower turn on, followed by the sound of wet clothing hitting the floor.

You weren't expecting warm lips on your skin, but that's exactly what Alexia gave you.

Her mouth was gentle, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your back, right over the first thoracic vertebra.

"Buena niña," she murmured, her tone completely different from just a few seconds ago.

She took your hand and turned you around. That's when you realised she was also naked, though your gaze didn't linger, she quickly guided both of you beneath the freezing water of the shower.

"Fuck," you hissed, trying to move away, but Alexia locked her arms around you, her chin resting lightly on your head.

The drops of water felt like knives against your raw skin. It was so cold you were sure you would get hypothermia.

"It'll feel better soon," Alexia promised, her soft hand stroking your back so delicately it felt like the touch of a ghost.

"But it hurts-" you whispered into her chest, letting your head rest against her chest ",-A lot, Ale."

"I know, bebé," she said, leaning back to look at you properly, a sad smile on her lips. "But we need to hydrate your skin. You are going to be good and let me take care of you now, right? I don't want to spank you more than I already did."

Her words carried so much honesty that it hit you…Alexia hadn't enjoyed punishing you. 

She had done it because it was the only way you would understand how serious things were, how badly your skin had been damaged from the amount of time you spent out in the sun without protection.

"I want you to take care of me," you admitted softly.

And for the first time that day, Alexia looked pleased.

She took the soap and began rubbing it over your body, trying to remove the grains of sand that had found home in your body; you winced the entire time.

Each time the soap touched you, it felt like fire to your skin.

The pain didn't fade when Alexia kissed your forehead, nor did it ease when she shut off the water and wrapped you in a fluffy towel that, although it was made of silk, felt like sandpaper scraping across your skin.

But Alexia wasn't the only one who could read body language.

You saw the way she straightened her posture, you saw the redness on her cheeks; she was still angry, but more at herself than at you.

And it seemed like she believed she had every right to be.

Yes, you were an adult, responsible and all that, but Alexia should have noticed you hadn't applied sunscreen. She should have checked the beach bag. Or that's what she thought.

You could be inattentive sometimes, and she knew it. She was supposed to look out for you. Always.

Alexia guided you to the bedroom; she left you standing at the foot of the bed while she spread the softest blanket she could find across the mattress.

"Lie down," Alexia said. Her voice was cold, but the gentle pat to your lower back showed she still cared.

You obeyed and positioned yourself on the bed with the towel still tight around you, trying to ignore how much it hurt each time you shifted even an inch.

You looked at her with wide eyes. She looked back, a shy smile was tugging at her lips before it vanished when you frowned…the pain was growing unbearable again.

Alexia walked over to the suitcase on the floor, kneeling beside it while digging through it until she found the Babosa cream she always carried on trips.

She didn't speak as she stepped closer to you; she didn't say a word when she took the towel away from your body.

Relief washed through you as Alexia turned on the air conditioner; your raw skin thanked her instantly. Your skin thanked her even more when she crawled into bed beside you and began spreading Aloe Vera over it tenderly.

The silence that followed was comforting, but it didn't feel right.

You noticed how Alexia's breathing was uneven; you grew tired of staring at her, trying to read her thoughts and finding nothing.

Alexia rubbed along your thigh, purposely ignoring your core.

You caught her wrist lightly; she could have pulled free if she wanted to, but she didn't. Alexia stayed still as if your grip were made of steel (it absolutely wasn't).

"You're upset," you whispered, brushing your thumb over the back of her hand. "I know it's my fault. I'm sorry."

Her eyes were fixed on your hands.

"You should listen when I tell you to do something," she said finally.

You studied her face and then nodded. "I should."

"But you didn't." She pulled free now, not so gently. She held your hips before flipping you onto your stomach.

Her cool (and cream-covered) hands found your ass quickly, gripping, massaging over the marks she had left earlier. A print of all five of her fingers staring back at her.

"That won't happen again," she said. The phrasing should have been a question, but her tone made it a command.

"It won't," you mumbled into the blanket, as if it even needed an answer.

She smoothed Aloe Vera over every inch of skin she could touch. You felt instant alleviation.

Her lips also offered some sort of allayment. She kissed your neck, your equally burned shoulder, your back, and finally, she pressed her mouth to the faint hand prints on your ass.

Alexia placed her hands on each side of your body, trapping you in, but not pressuring you into the mattress.

"How are you feeling, bebé?" she murmured, brushing her nose against your temple.

"Good," you answered hesitantly, but not because it wasn't true, but because her tone was dangerous.

"If I gave you a punishment right now," she said slowly, "would you take it?"

Suddenly, it felt like your ribcage was trapping your lungs; no air was getting in, and your breath caught as her breath met your ear.

"I would take anything you give me," you whispered, giving her the only answer she wanted. The right answer.

That earned you a kiss on the top of your head.

"Anything?" she asked, her lips moving down your back, leaving cool, wet trails over the Aloe Vera cream.

"Uhum," you replied, eager.

"Alright." She said it like the matter was settled and the conversation was over.

You didn't lift your face from the mattress; you didn't dare to look at what she was doing.

Maybe your punishment was being left alone in the bedroom, naked, burning and trembling with need.

You weren't far off.

You heard her cross the room, the suitcase zipper being opened again. The mattress dipped as Alexia returned, straddling you with her knees.

The snap of a cap reached your ears, and for a second, your triggered brain thought back to the sunscreen, but the sweet strawberry scent quickly told you otherwise.

You quickly realised what it really was - the purpose of the bottle she had just opened.

Alexia didn't ask permission as she spread your legs; she didn't make a sound as cool drops of lube slid down your opening, making you shiver from how cold it was.

She wasn't chivalrous when she parted your folds open and dragged the head of the dildo against you. She wasn't courteous when she pushed it inside in one swift thrust.

Alexia was gracious enough to place a comforting hand on your back.

She was considerate enough to give you a few shallow thrusts and let your body adjust to the dildo as she brushed your hips with her thumb.

You didn't speak, you didn't dare open your mouth. You just closed your eyes, focusing on the sensation of being full, of having Alexia near, of the cold air brushing your tender skin perfectly.

The burn was still there, but the Aloe Vera was working.

The dildo buried inside your warm walls made you dizzy, relaxed and full, enough that the pain of your raw skin didn't feel as overwhelming as before.

"You're going to stay like this for one hour," Alexia whispered against your neck. "That's how long the Aloe Vera needs to work, sí?"

"S-sí," you stammered, trusting whatever Alexia had planned.

"Perfecta." She kissed your neck gently. "While you cool down, I'll keep myself busy. Without you, unfortunately."

She said 'unfortunately', but her tone was far too pleased.

At first, you thought that this whole situation didn't feel much like a punishment; the sting from her spanking wasn't too bad, the dildo felt incredible inside you - but oh, you were soon to realise it was all torture.

Alexia didn't let you move.

She didn't let you rock your hips for more, trying to get some friction on your clit or get the dildo to move.

She didn't let you see what she was doing behind you as her soft moans filled the room.

You didn't even know how she was touching herself… was she using the other dildo? The bullet vibrator? Her fingers? You had no idea.

And Alexia - cruel, cruel Alexia - wasn't going to tell you.

She came twice.

At least, that's what she told you when the hour was up.

She slid the dildo from you, admiring how slick it was, how wet you were, before gently holding your hips and turning you over to face her.

You hated yourself for disobeying, for being careless.

Alexia had that look, the one she always had after orgasming. Her lips were flushed pink (almost scarlet), her face was soft, as if all the muscles in her body had relaxed. Her pupils were wide. 

You didn't get to see her climax. You hadn't seen her lips part in an 'o', hadn't seen her legs shaking; you only heard the muffled sounds of her moans.

Alexia leaned down and pressed her mouth to your dry lips, pressing her tongue to your bottom lip, asking for entry. You let her in, your hand were resting on her back, tracing the tattoos you knew were there.

Everything felt light, like you were wrapped in a soft haze of warmth. Alexia's body felt so hot against you, even though she was holding herself up on her elbows.

Your eyes were closed as you enjoyed the soft kisses she was giving you, though you did wonder why she had turned the air conditioning to such a low temperature. But it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered when Alexia was on top of you. It was like you couldn't think or worry about anything, as if your mind didn't need to work properly.

Not when Alexia was next to you.

Alexia's hand moved to your waist, brushing the top of your ribcage. Your skin wasn't bothering you as much anymore - the cream had worked - but you felt weird.

Not a good type of weird. You were starting to feel confused, too tired, too..

Alexia pecked your cheeks, and that's when she stilled.

She held herself up and looked down at you worriedly. You opened your eyes to look back at her, but your eyelids were heavy.

You wanted to take a nap. A really good nap.

Alexia placed the palm of her hand on your cheek, then on your forehead. You wanted to trace the frown between her eyebrows, but you felt too weary all of a sudden.

"You're hot," Alexia said under her breath, more to herself. She placed her lips on your forehead for a quick second before getting up from your body.

You instantly shivered from the cold. You wanted to pull her back, but you didn't have any strength.

"No 'm not," you mumbled, bringing the towel that was scattered on the bed around your body. "I'm cold. I want my clothes."

Alexia looked more concerned now.

"I think you have sun poisoning," she said, looking down at your figure on the bed before quickly going to the suitcase to take out a change of clothes for you.

She helped you sit up on the bed, carefully dressing you. A patient hand stayed on your back, holding you upright whenever you murmured about wanting to lie down.

Once you were dressed, Alexia helped you under the blankets and carried the towel to the bathroom. She turned the air conditioner off and then turned to you, standing (comically) still at the foot of the bed.

"What?" you managed to say, opening one (only one) eye to look at her, saving up some energy.

"I- I don't know what to do," Alexia confessed, looking so utterly confused, something you didn't see on her face often.

She was always so sure, always knew everything, always had the upper hand in any given situation. But not now.

Who would have thought sun poisoning would be the downfall of Alexia Putellas?

"You've never had sun poisoning before," she continued, finally moving and sitting on the mattress beside you, cupping your jaw tenderly. "Do you feel any pain? Do you need anything or—"

"My head hurts," you interrupted, a pout on your face that Alexia was quick to brush with her thumb. "My skin doesn't. I think the cream was good."

Alexia hummed, but the way her lips were pressed together told you she wasn't so relieved. She took the blanket that was over your body, tucking you in even more, as if she didn't know what to do with her restless hands.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Mhm," you nodded, closing your eyes.

She poked your forehead. "Keep them open."

"No."

"Sí."

"Why?" You looked at her.

She shrugged. "I don't know what the protocol for sun poisoning is."

"I don't think the protocol involves me keeping my eyes open," you murmured.

"It helps me know you didn't die," she argued, poking you again. "Open. Don't make me say it again."

You lazily slapped her hand away, but she was quick and caught your wrist, putting it down on the mattress.

"I'm serious," she said, rolling her eyes before going to the telephone on the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" you asked, sitting up on the bed so fast you felt dizzy.

"Calling the hotel's infirmary," she said.

"Why?" you asked, brow furrowing.

"To ask what the protocol for sun poisoning is!" she said as if it were obvious.

"Not everything has a protocol, Alexia!" you said in the same tone.

"Then they should make one! You look horrible already! I think you have a rash on your cheek and—"

"Horrible?" you said in a low voice, looking at her, but barely able to see her figure properly because your eyes were already filling with tears. "I look horrible?"

If Alexia was completely confused before, now she was fearing for her life.

"No, no, no, mi amor," she said, dropping the phone as she rushed to you, waving her hands as if she could banish the words she had just said from the air. "I didn't mean it like that."

You dodged her arms as they tried to wrap around you.

Sure, your face was completely scarlet, and some places were already starting to peel. Maybe you had a few rash spots… but horrible?

Maybe Alexia was right. Or maybe it was your fever.

You did look horrible. Actually, you looked monstrous.

You hid your face in your hands, ignoring the way your skin burned from the contact. You let yourself cry. sob.

This vacation was a stupid idea.

You should have stayed in Barcelona and let Alexia go on vacation alone.

Maybe that way she would have been able to enjoy a beach day without her dumb wife forgetting the sunscreen and having a rash-covered face.

"Mi vida…" Alexia said helplessly, very carefully hugging you, putting her hand on your shoulder. "No, don't cry."

"I ruined your vacation," you sobbed. "You get like three weeks off all year, and I ruined them all."

"That's not true," Alexia shook her head, shifting you so you were straddling her lap, your hands still covering your face.

"It is true," you argued. "Everything is ruined and my head hurts and my skin's burning and I'm so fucking cold and—"

Alexia held both your wrists in one hand as she placed the other on your back and brought your body closer to her, so you were resting your face against her chest.

"Don't say that," she murmured, moving her body so she was rocking you. "I love you. I would never in a billion years want to go on a vacation without you."

"Even if my skin is filled with blisters?" you asked against her chest.

"Sí," she said solemnly. "I don't care about blisters."

"You're lying."

"I'm not." She kissed the top of your head. "I don't lie. Not to you."

Alexia held you until you stopped crying, and then she laid you down on the bed, kissing your forehead before going to the suitcase (again), looking for some fever medicine.

She fed you a protein bar she had in her bag before giving you some ibuprofen and water. She was very insistent that you needed to drink the whole bottle, so you did.

The medicine made you drowsy almost immediately. Your eyelids grew heavy as Alexia tucked the blankets around you again.

"Sleep, mi amor," she whispered, lying down beside you. "I'll be right here."

You wanted to tell her she didn't need to stay up, that she should get some rest too, but the words felt too heavy on your tongue. Instead, you let yourself fall asleep.

When you woke up, there was sunlight peeking through the curtains, and your head felt a bit clearer.

The fever had broken sometime during the night, leaving you feeling weak and sweaty, but a little more like your usual self.

You turned to find Alexia curled up beside you on top of the covers. Her jaw was tight, as if, even in her sleep, she wasn't able to relax completely.

It was like Alexia knew you had opened your eyes, because she quickly sat back against the headboard, waking up.

"You're awake," Alexia's voice was groggy as she stirred, immediately reaching over to feel your forehead. "How do you feel? How's the fever?"

"Better," you said honestly, though your skin still felt very raw, it would probably feel like that for some days. "Did you sleep well?"

She rubbed her eyes.

"Well… yeah. I kept checking on you every hour to make sure you weren't getting worse." She gestured at the phone you didn't realise was at her side. "I may have also become an expert on sun poisoning. Did you know acetaminophen is better for fevers?"

"I definitely didn't know that," you smiled lazily. "What else did you find, Dr. Putellas?"

"Hmm" she said, straight up as if she was talking business. "You should feel better in three days, but your skin might peel for a week or two-" She looked at you up and down, as if you were a patient she was examining. "-probably two. And we need to keep you hydrated and out of the sun."

"So no beach today?"

"No beach for you for the rest of the trip," she said firmly, but then her expression softened. "But that's okay. We can do other things."

Guilty settled in your chest again. "Ale, we came here to relax and enjoy the beaches and—"

"I came here to be with you," Alexia interrupted. "Beach or no beach, sun or no sun. Besides," she smiled mischievously.

"-I've already planned the itinerary for our vacation. We'll order room service for lunch, then we'll watch some films, and then we'll go to the hotel spa, and at night we can go out, like vampires."

You pecked her lips and chucked. "So that means we are staying inside the hotel for the rest of our trip, during the daytime?"

"We can go outside during the day," she said after a few seconds of thinking about it. "But when we do, I'm personally applying sunscreen to every inch of your body."

"Every inch?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Every. Inch." She leaned down to kiss your forehead.

A/n: There are two more scenes I wanted to add (smut), but I didn't have the energy to do so.

Hope u guys enjoyed it! I've been writing this for so many hours, and I don't have Alexia to take care of me and my poor back.

Tag list: @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics @riyaexee @miaereen@kiwidreamersstuff @valuyhh

[samkerrworshipper]

i found this out like two weeeks ago and i was so shook

Just a thought but...

Seeing as Tuva is dating Caro's brother in a roundabout way, it kind of makes her Conejita's aunt too

[samkerrworshipper]

“i don’t feel good”

the team convinces you, the teenage homebody, to go out with them for a change. everything goes wrong, but alexia is there to pick up the pieces

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

wc: 3.3k

tags: **mentions of drink spiking + alcohol**, angst and fluff, alexia being worried, hospitals, reader and ale fight at the hospital, mentions of bad parents, trust issues

a/n: this is the first thing i ever wrote for woso and has been collecting dust in my google drive for literal months. enjoy!

The final whistle blew. 2-0 Barcelona. Another Champions League match conquered and done. You went about your normal post-game routine: selfies, signing jerseys, throwing whatever gear you had into the stands. This was one part of the fame that came with your professional success that you hadn’t expected to like so much. Always the last one back to the locker room after a match, you knew what it was like to be just a fan yourself and how much it meant for a player to stick around a little longer.

By the time you had made your rounds and gotten yourself back to the locker room, the celebrations were already in full swing. Music was blasting and the girls were already discussing plans for the night. You snuck in and took your seat in the corner by your locker, plenty satisfied with just observing the chaos. Even if you were only 17, you were always much quieter with your emotions. You never violently broke down, never wildly celebrated. Kept most of your deep emotions to yourself. Even keel. Zen, as the girls liked to mock you. The complete opposite of Vicky, your best friend and the only other teenager on the squad.

You were laughing quietly at whatever nonsense Jana was doing with Esmee when Ona sat to your side, slugging an arm around your shoulders. “Buen trabajo hoy, hija.”

You hummed, acknowledging your older teammate’s comment without exactly agreeing.

She shook her head, used to your antics and usual apathy about your performance. You never let yourself be proud or satisfied, always replaying every mistake or misstep. “A bunch of the youngers are going out tonight, I think. You should go.”

You looked over to her and frowned, “You know that isn’t really my thing.”

“So what? Your friends will take care of you. It’ll be good. You should go be a kid, have fun, be a little stupid.”

“We have training tomorrow…”

“Not until the afternoon,” Ona smirked and patted you on the shoulder before getting up and going to shower.

You shook you head again and got yourself ready to leave the stadium.

“Chica! You’re coming out with us tonight!” Vicky yelled down the hall as you went to shower.

“Oh, am I?” you joked, not even looking back.

“Come on! You never come out with us. Eres tan aburrida.” She sounded exasperated, like you being antisocial was physically draining her. 

“We have training tomorrow,” you repeated.

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’m tired. I just played a whole 90!” You were just spitting out every excuse you could think of.

“I have an extra Redbull in my car.”

You groaned. You knew you really didn’t have a choice, that Vicky was going to drag you out by your hair if you didn’t willingly cooperate.

You sighed, deep and dramatic. “Will you dry my hair after I shower?”

“Por supuesto!” Vicky practically squealed down the hallway to get herself ready. A quick shower and the best blowout you’ve ever had later, you were given strict instructions to get your stuff and meet at Vicky’s apartment so she could get you an outfit. 

You were in the middle of packing your things when Alexia spotted you. “Did you dry your hair?”

“Vicky did, si.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going out with them.”

“Out?”

“Si…I do kind of want to bail and just go to bed, though,” you said. Alexia had taken on a sisterly role in your life, knowing you were absurdly young to be a professional athlete and didn’t have much of a relationship with your family anymore. You didn’t completely understand why she felt the need to care so much, but it was nice most of the time.

“No, go. You should go out and have some fun.”

“Really?” Your captain encouraging you to go out and be stupid? You must be more boring than you realize.

“Yes, nena. It’ll be good for you. Just…be safe, okay? Don’t overdo it. You’re not…experienced to know your limits.”

“I know, Ale. I’m fine.”

“Text me when you get back home safe, por favor?”

“Si, I will.”

“I’m serious, be safe. Don’t be estupida.”

“When am I ever?” You smirked and grabbed your things. “I’ll see you tomorrow Ale!”

Alexia just shook her head as you jogged to catch up with Jana and Kika.

…..

“Merda, Vicky! Are you trying to suffocate me?” You yelled as Vicky tied you into one of her coreset tops.

“Callarse,” she pulled the strings even tighter. “You look fantastic.” 

You rolled your eyes.

Your teammates had dragged you to some bar that let you in even though you were underage, which only mildly alarmed you. You were squished into a booth between Esmee and Jana. Somehow a drink and a shot of some kind of liquor appeared in front of you, Vicky and Kika having went straight to the bar and ordered for you.

You had never taken a shot before, and somehow managed to get it down without spitting it everywhere. The girls were too amused at your facial expression for your liking. “You people do this for fun?”

Another shot, or maybe two? later, and Jana had somehow gotten you out on the dance floor. You were starting to feel it; the slight dizziness, the floaty sensation, the feeling that everything was just a little too funny. You were so emersed in this brand-new feeling that you didn’t notice the other girls rapid texting and excited phone calls. Several minutes later, the rest of your teammates filed into the bar, Vicky having successfully convinced them all to come out and celebrate the win as a team.

“Since when did they get here?” you practically yelled in Jana’s ear over the nauseatingly loud music, with bass powerful enough to knock the breath out of you.

“Just now! Let’s say hi!” She pulled you over to them without waiting for your agreement or acknowledgement.

“You guys made it! I knew you weren’t that old and boring yet!” Jana joked and hugged Ona and Caro and whoever else was there that you couldn’t make out. Oh yeah, that third shot was hitting and you were pretty sure your neural processing had slowed to a crawl. While you were fuzzy around the edges before, now you felt like you were floating and weightless.

“Diminuta! Come here!” you could make out Patri’s voice over the music and conversation, and automatically moved your feet in the direction it came from. She was sat at the bar with two other girls, Ingrid and Alexia. “How’s the superstar feeling right now?” 

Your drunken mind had no words, you just giggled and leaned your head on Alexia’s shoulder. Alexia made something between a scoff and a chuckle, instinctively pulling you closer to her.

“How much did they give you, nena?” Alexia cooed, clearly entertained by your state.

“A few…two…no three- I don’t know, actually. It all tasted bad,” you shuddered just thinking about the liquor you had taken not too long ago. Alexia’s eyebrows skyrocketed, not only that the girls had fed you two, maybe three shots (maybe more, she knew you weren’t exactly a reliable narrator at the moment), but at how horribly you were slurring your words.

“How about some water now? Can you handle that?” Ingrid piped up, pushing a glass of ice water to your lips that you drank without second thought.

You leaned your head on Alexia’s shoulder, the thought of holding your own head up suddenly far too distasteful. She just rubbed your back, playfully shaking her head at Ingrid, both girls thoroughly entertained.

Ingrid made you finish the glass of water and have some of the fries they’d ordered from the bar before you were allowed to leave and rejoin your friends. Vicky and Esmee were having some kind of dance-off in the middle of the dance floor, and you managed to stumble your way in that direction.

The next few hours were a blur—literally. You danced to songs in languages you didn’t speak, content to just move among the bodies of your friends to the beat that you could feel in your toes. New drinks seemed to just magically appear in your hand every time yours was low. You figured it was Jana or Kika that kept disappearing off to the bar periodically.

A few more songs went by and your world started to spin dramatically. “Merda..” you mumbled as you lost your footing, falling directly into Esmee.

“You good meisje?”

You just groaned and leaned more into her.

“Where did you get that drink?” Jana asked, brow furrowed.

“Um…you? I thought?” you slurred out, Esmee still holding up a majority of my body weight.

“No…we haven’t gotten new drinks in a while. The older girls cut us off like 30 minutes ago,” Kika said, her eyes filling with worry.

“I don-” you stumbled again, eyes rolling back into your head for a second, “I don’t feel good.” If you were slurring your words earlier, that was nothing compared to now.

The girls all shared a look, saying is this what we think is happening? before springing into action. Kika took the drink to dispose of it. Esmee and Jana each took of your arms and led you over to the booth that the girls were sitting at.

“Is she okay?”

“Déu meu!”

“What happened?”

The girls had a chorus of questions and concerns seeing the state you were in. Alexia immediately got up and took on your body weight. “Què va passar?” she asked, trying to stay calm and not panic immediately.

“W-we were dancing, ‘n she started falling over-”

“And she had a drink that we didn’t get her!”

“She thought we got it for her, but we didn’t,”

“Her eyes were rolling back into her head!”

“She said she didn’t feel good, and then she just fell on me-”

The girls scrambled to explain what had happened.

“Merda,” Alexia sighed, lightly slapping your cheek, “wake up, nena. Come on.”

Your eyes fluttered open, although it was a struggle. Everything was swimming and blurry. Your ears rang. You tried to focus on whoever was in front of you, you think they were trying to talk to you? You couldn’t tell.

“Jesus…I’m taking her home. Thank you for bringing her to me, girls. Everyone get home safe, okay?” Alexia declared, seeing how out of it you were.

“Keep us updated capi? Just so we know she’s okay?” Kika asked

“Of course. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Alexia tried to let you walk, but the pair of you got about 10 feet before she accepted defeat and picked you up bridal style and got you out of the bar. The cold air outside hit your face and broke through the haziness. Your eyes found Alexia’s face above you and your soul relaxed. You were with Ale, you were safe. She would make sure you were okay.

“Ale…don’t feel good,” you whined, words so slurred they were hard to make out.

“I know, nena. I got you.”

On a normal day, Alexia probably would’ve called an Uber. She had had two drinks and was strict about not driving under the influence. She usually had no problem coming to get her car in the morning. But not when you were sick and most likely drugged and she needed to get you to a hospital.

“Estàs bé, Alèxia, fica-t'hi de cap,” she murmured to herself as she got in the driver’s seat. You’re fine, Alexia. Get your head in the game.

You were curled up in the passenger seat, body shivering slightly. Your eyes had fluttered shut, and Alexia could hear that your breathing was labored. “Eyes open, nena,” she ordered.

You whined but obliged as best as you could.

Alexia broke multiple traffic laws in the trip to the ER that was much shorter of a drive than it probably should’ve been. She carried you in and yelled at too many nurses before you were placed on a bed and had an IV inserted in you. Alexia breathed a little easier knowing your vitals were being monitored and you were being hydrated, but she was far from okay.

The nurse took your blood and ran some tests to see if they could determine was what put in your drink. Alexia assured the nurses that you had been with your friends the entire time, that nothing worse had happened, thank god.

“The protocol now is to just keep her here overnight and monitor her symptoms. She’s probably going to be throwing up a lot throughout the night and sleeping in between. She might be confused or disoriented when she wakes up. Are you staying overnight?”

Alexia had never had an easier answer to a question. The nurse left them alone for a few minutes. Alexia took your hand in hers and leaned against the side of the bed.

“Ale…” you slurred, rolling onto your side towards Alexia.

“Hey, nena,” Alexia whispered.

“I don’t feel good.”

Alexia felt her heart shatter in her chest. You sounded so small and scared.

“I know, nena. But you’re in the hospital and the doctors are taking really good care of you.”

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

…..

Just as the nurse said, you would sleep for an hour or two and then wake up and throw up. Every time, you would wake up disoriented and miserable. As soon as you were done being sick and Alexia had calmed you down, you would fall back asleep. You fell back asleep for the last time around 4:30 a.m., and Alexia slumped up against the side of the bed. The nurses came through to do rounds and saw the scene. 

“How long has she been asleep?”

“About two hours.”

“That is improvement. How are you doing?”

“I am fine. That is not important.”

“I disagree. She is obviously important to you, and she is struggling. Your state is just as important as hers.”

“She is what is important right now.”

The nurse flitted around the room, taking the necessary measurements. “Who is she to you? Her chart says she is technically a minor but is legally emancipated. I am assuming you are not blood related.” 

“She is my teammate. I look after her,” Alexia answered, jaw tight, focus only on you.

“She is lucky to have you.”

“I am lucky to have her. Will she be able to go home in the morning?”

“If she is still vomiting we will likely keep her here until she can keep liquids down, just to make sure there won’t be any problems with dehydration once she is home. Does she live with you?”

“No, but I will keep her at my house for a few days. She lives alone.”

“That would be ideal, good.”

“I will, um, give you the contact of our team doctor?”

“Si, I will put it in the chart and we will contact them for her return to play window. Shouldn’t be more than a few days to make sure she regains her strength. Just like if she had a stomach bug.”

Alexia nodded. Her eyes hadn’t left you once. You seemed to be in a deeper sleep this time, you looked peaceful. “Thank you for all your help,” Alexia said, sincere as she could be. 

“It is my job. I will be back in a bit, and I want you to try and get some rest yourself, vale?”

“I will try. No promises.”

“She would want you to sleep, I am sure of it.”

Alexia just kept staring at you, watching over your vulnerable body like a guard dog. She was blaming herself, how could she not? She had encouraged you to go out when you didn’t even want to. She thought she had been keeping a close enough eye on you from her seat, but she obviously wasn’t. In her head, it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t any of the other girls’ fault, it was hers and hers alone. Alexia didn’t let her emotion bubble over, didn’t let herself cry or really let the fear surge in her chest. She didn’t need you to see her like that if you woke up again. 

She had close relationships with a lot of the younger girls on the team. She was a leader, a mentor in this confusing world they lived it. But you were different. You were hers, more so than anyone else. Her responsibility. You didn’t have a family looking after you like everyone else did. You had Alexia. And she clearly didn’t deserve that spot in your life if this was how you ended up under her supervision. 

By the time you woke up again, you were feeling much better.

“Ale?” you rasped out, your throat shot both from all the singing and yelling you did the night before and the constant throwing up. 

“Hey nena, how are you feeling?”

“Better...can we go home?”

“The doctors have to check you out first, but we can go soon.”

“I’m sorry, Ale,” you sounded so small and scared, like you were ready for Alexia to lecture your or be angry. 

“No, no need to be sorry, nena. It’s not your fault. If it’s anyone’s, it’s mine.”

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have been so stupid.”

“You weren’t being stupid. You were having fun, that’s okay. I was supposed to be looking out for you lot and I didn’t.”

You shook your head. “I’m not your responsibility Ale.”

Alexia sighed. “Yes, you are. At this point, yes.”

“I’m no one’s responsibility but my own,” you raised your voice slightly, getting defensive. Alexia knew it was your own fears presenting as anger, and did her best to stay calm.

“That is not true.”

“Really? I’m pretty sure I argued in front of a judge a year ago to make sure of that.”

“I don’t care about the legal crap. You are practically a baby, nena. You can’t do everything alone, and that is okay. Everyone else has people who look out for them, you have me.”

“I don’t need anyone else. I’m fine. I was stupid, and now I can’t play, and you’re my captain and should be furious with me.”

“I’m not just your captain, we both know that. And yeah, I’m a little upset you can’t play for a few days but I’m more concerned that you were drugged! Who knows what could’ve happened if we hadn’t realized what was going on as fast as we did? Do you know how terrifying that is to me?”

“I don’t know why you care so much,” you said, voice small and cracking. 

Alexia sighed and took your hand again. She looked at you softly, your eyes trained at the scratchy hospital blanket in her lap.

“Because I love you nena. You’re such a great kid, how could anyone not care about you?”

“My own parents didn’t, don’t…I don’t get why you do. You have no obligation to me.”

“Oh, nena…I’m sorry your parents made you think like that. You aren’t the problem. They are. You deserve to be loved and cared about. You deserve it so much.”

You were silent. How does one even begin to unpack the years of trauma and complexes your parents gave you?

“I know it’s hard for you to believe, and I’m not asking you to trust me right away. But I will continue to show up, and be here for you, continue to care, until you start to understand that I’m not going anywhere,” she grabbed your hand and wrapped her other arm around your shoulders 

You just leaned into her heavily. Your body and mind were too tired to fight her at that point. 

“If I don’t throw up for a few hours I can go home?”

“That’s right. You’re coming home with me.”

“Mkay..” you mumbled, falling asleep right on Alexia’s shoulder. Your body was tired, your mind was tired, and, well, you felt too safe with Alexia to fight your exhaustion anymore. 

[samkerrworshipper]

Air Force

Ingrid Engen x Sister!Reader

Summary: You go off base to visit your sister

"Ingrid!" You roar.

It's something deep in your chest, the kind of sound that's only perfected after years of growing up together. It's the same kind of sound you used when Ingrid would take your dolls as a child or wear your clothes when you told her not to.

The stupid bugle recording repeats again and again as you destroy your little sister's guest bedroom. You know there's a speaker hidden here somewhere and you're determined to find it.

"Ingrid!" You yell again," So help me, Ingrid-"

"What is that awful sound?!" Your sister demands when she throws open the door.

"It's a bugle," You deadpan," Ingrid, I'm off duty right now. Tell your girlfriend to either tell me where she's hidden the speaker or tell her to cut it out. I don't need to be woken up like I'm on base!"

Ingrid winces. "You wake up to this everyday?"

"Well, I'd prefer not to wake up to it when I'm not at work."

"I'll talk to Mapi."

"And make sure to tell her to remove this goddamn speaker! It's too early!" You yell after her.

You don't know if Ingrid does as she's told or not but the bugle sound stops and you make quick work of cleaning up before crashing out on the bed again.

This was meant to be a relaxing week and a half off from work. You didn't have a lot of free days to spend as you like, let alone ones that were consecutive.

It seemed only right to use this time to visit your sister and finally see her play.

You just hadn't taken into account her annoying girlfriend who found it so funny to wake you up like you were on base.

You don't know when you wake up again but it's to blissful silence. No morning bugle and no knuckles rapping on your door from your sister.

You sit up in bed and stretch.

Spain is much warmer than you're used to so you pull on only a spare pair of shorts and a new sports bra, stepping out into the hallway and making your way to the kitchen.

You really weren't expecting anyone else to be there.

You assumed Ingrid and Mapi's training would last a lot longer.

But there's three extra people in the kitchen. Only one of them is someone you recognise.

Frido grins wolfishly when she spots you, hiding her giggles behind her hand. "Good afternoon, y/n."

You groan, running a hand through your hair. "It's afternoon already?"

"You must have had a good sleep."

"Oh, yeah," You say sarcastically," A great sleep being woken up like I'm still at work and not on holiday."

"Mapi says sorry," Ingrid finally says from where she's cooking up lunch.

"Funny. I haven't heard those words from her yet."

"She'll say them after she's finished her shower."

You roll your eyes. "She better."

Ingrid rolls her eyes too, at you rather than her girlfriend. "Y/n, this is Kika and Esmee. Kika, Esmee, this is my older sister, y/n. She's visiting for the week."

They're both staring at you, speechless, and it's only then that you realise you're still just standing there in your shorts and a bra.

Frido throws a shirt at you and you smoothly pull it on.

"It's nice to meet you both," You say over your shoulder as you drink Ingrid's milk straight from the cartoon.

Kika and Esmee still stare, like they're either still taking you in or attempting to find their voices.

Whatever it is, Kika's the first one that speaks. Actually, she blurts something out rather than speaks and then grows red when her brain finally catches up with her mouth.

"You have really good abs. What's your workout routine?"

Your eyes shoot up to your hairline as you look down at your shirt, like you're trying to visualise your stomach through the material.

"Try army training," Frido teases," And an army diet."

You roll your eyes, closing the fridge door. "The air force, Frido. Not the army. The air force."

"Same thing."

"It's not. I'd like to see those army guys do what I do. Get them in a plane, see what happens."

Frido laughs. "Right, of course, because you do things in a plane that people can only dream of. I'm still waiting for my plane ride, you know."

You pick up the mug of coffee that Ingrid left out for you. "Come on over to Norway, Frido, and I'll show you the time of your life."

She laughs and you roll your eyes fondly.

You've known Frido for years and even though she was Ingrid's friend first, you like to think that she's your friend now too.

"So...you're in the air force?" Esmee asks. She seems kind of meek and awkward, like she thinks asking will offend you or something.

You smile. "That's right. I joined up when I was eighteen."

"She's a colonel now," You sister butts in, serving up plates for everyone and an extra one for Mapi," And last Mama and Papa told me, she's being considered for promotion soon."

You smile awkwardly. "Don't get your hopes up. We'll see how it goes."

"Of course she's going to get it," Ingrid continues like she never even heard you," She's adored back home."

"She always does this," You cut her off, winking at Kika and Esmee," Just talks and talks and talks. She's been like that since she was a kid."

"Ingrid does like to talk," Frido agrees.

"You're meant to be on my side!" Ingrid says and you laugh.

"You know Frido's never on your side when I'm here.

Frido grins. "I always align myself with the highest ranking officer."

You mockingly salute her and you exchange twin smiles.

Ingrid roles her eyes, leaning closer to the two younger girls. "Ask her whatever you want," She says," But, please, don't get her on the topic of her favourite plane. None of us will get a word in for hours."

[samkerrworshipper]

Part 8

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

Wordcount: 8.4k

Other Parts

After an ask I got I feel I should say, if Alexia is speaking to a native Spanish person, she's speaking Spanish, not English but for purposes of the story I write it in English 👍🏻

The day had been a marathon seventeen interviews, three outfit changes, and an endless rotation of bright lights, cameras, and the same core set of questions. By the time you finally wrapped at 7 pm your cheeks ached from smiling and your voice felt like sandpaper.

Now, a couple of hours later, you were finally in a bar’s open air courtyard, the Spanish night warm and buzzing with chatter. String lights crisscrossed above, casting a glow over your table, where the remnants of shared tapas sat between half empty glasses.

Emily was next to you, leaning back in her chair, her beer bottle balanced loosely between her fingers. She clinked it gently against yours. “To a successful trip,” she said with a grin.

“To a very successful trip,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink.

Sarah, your makeup artist, raised her cocktail in mock solemnity. “And to my work surviving twelve hours of hot lights without melting off your face.”

“That setting spray should have its own award,” you teased.

Dan, your hairstylist, gave a little flourish with his hands, as if presenting you. “And let’s not forget the real hero here my ability to wrangle that hair into three distinct styles without losing my sanity.”

Mike, your stylist, leaned in, smirking over the rim of his glass of wine. “And ensuring you didn’t flash an entire camera crew in look number two.”

You laughed, covering your face. “That skirt was risky, Mike, and you know it.”

The five of you dissolved into laughter, the kind that came easily after a long, exhausting, but rewarding day. You leaned back in your seat, letting the night breeze brush over your skin, the low hum of the bar washing over you like a soft blanket.

Emily nudged you gently. “You look happy.”

You glanced at her, a small smile playing on your lips. “I am happy. Happiest I've been in a long time”

Your longest friend since you were five gave you the softest smile, "Good" she knew the tribulations you'd been through these past few years and was finally glad you were out the other side and thriving.

You drawn into listening to Dan tell a ridiculous story about a disastrous celebrity hair job when your phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up, and even before you glanced down, you felt that little spark you knew exactly who it would be.

Alexia 🤎: Hola Muppet, you finish work?

A smile crept across your face without you even trying. Emily noticed immediately, her brows shooting up as she tilted her head toward your phone. “Ah, there she is.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother denying it, quickly tapping out a reply.

You: Yep. 7am to 7pm. Dead.

It took less than thirty seconds for the next bubble to appear.

Alexia 🤎: I make you not dead. Come here.

You bit your lip, laughing softly at the bluntness.

You: Where’s “here”?

A location pin dropped into the chat her house. Then another message.

Alexia 🤎: I am home all night. You come whenever you can. I wait.

You stared at the screen for a second, that familiar flutter in your chest kicking up. It had been only 24 hours since you’d last seen her, but it already felt far too long.

Emily leaned in to peek, her voice low but teasing. “You going to go?.”

You glanced around at the rest of your team, Sarah mid-laugh, Mike gesturing wildly at Dan’s latest exaggeration and felt a pang of guilt at the thought of cutting the night short.

You: Might be late.

Alexia 🤎: I wait all night if I need. Just come.

You exhaled slowly, your thumb lingering over the keyboard.

“Let me guess,” Emily said, smirking. “She’s home alone, and she wants to see you.”

You grinned, tucking your phone face-down on the table for now. “Something like that.”

Emily clocked your hesitation immediately and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Why don’t you just tell her to come here?”

You raised a brow. “To a crowded bar with four strangers after she’s probably had a long day of training?”

Mike cut in, grinning. “We’re not strangers, we’re fabulous and if she’s as smitten as you’ve been acting, she’ll make the trip.”

Sarah nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. Plus, I want to meet the girl who sent flowers that expensive looking. I saw that bouquet on your Instagram story weeks ago, it was gorgeous.”

Dan leaned back, sipping his drink with a sly smile. “Also, I just want to witness the dynamic. You’ve been floating around all week, and I need to know if it’s her or if you’ve joined some kind of cult.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Emily smirked. “You’re ridiculous. Text her. Tell her to come here. If she’s this amazing person you keep going on about, she can handle a quick drink with your friends."

Sarah raised her glass. “Yes, bring the goddess to us.”

Mike waggled his brows. “Please. I’ll even buy her a drink and promise not to tell her all your weird little quirks… for the first ten minutes.”

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was, the idea of her walking into this courtyard and meeting the people who’d been your little work family for years now made your stomach flip in a good way.

You picked up your phone again, thumbs hovering over the screen, a smile tugging at your lips. You took a deep breath, ignoring the expectant stares from your team, and typed quickly.

You: So… my friends are insisting they want to meet you. We’re at this bar with a courtyard. No pressure, but would you maybe want to come by for a drink?

You stared at it for a second, then added

You: They promise to behave.

Before you could even lock your phone, the typing dots appeared.

Alexia 🤎: They want meet me?

You: Yes. They’ve heard way too much about you already.

There was a pause.

Alexia 🤎: Hmm… I am in hoodie, no make up. Not football star today.

Emily leaned over your shoulder, whispering, “Tell her she could show up in pyjamas and we’d still love her.”

You smirked and typed

You: You could come in pyjamas and they’d still be obsessed. So would I to be fair

Another pause.

Alexia 🤎: Send me location.

You tried not to grin too wide, but it was useless. You dropped the pin, hit send, and almost immediately she replied

Alexia 🤎: I come. 20 minutes.

When you looked up from your phone, Emily was already smirking knowingly. “And that is how it’s done.”

Mike raised his glass in mock ceremony. “Ladies and gentlemen, the guest of honour is on her way.”

☀️

The twenty minutes felt more like two hours, your team alternating between playful interrogation “What’s her favourite colour?” “How tall is she?” “Can she braid hair?” and placing bets on how she’d arrive.

Then, through the courtyard’s entrance, you spotted her dark hoodie, hands tucked in her pockets, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you. That little flicker of recognition softened her whole expression.

You stood immediately, weaving through the tables to meet her halfway. “Hey,” you said, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

“Hola,” she murmured, her voice low, and pulled you in for a hug. It was warm, solid, like every time you saw her, the rest of the noise faded away for just a moment.

When she pulled back, she glanced around as if remembering you weren’t alone, but before you could step away, she leaned in and stole a quick kiss just a brush of her lips against yours, quick but intimate enough to make your team’s laughter carry over from your table.

You caught her hand, squeezing it. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Back at the table, you gestured to each in turn. “This is Emily my partner in crime in life. Sarah, makeup genius. Dan, hair magician. And Mike, the reason my outfits actually look intentional.”

They each greeted her warmly, though you could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she offered a small, polite smile but kept glancing at you for reassurance.

“She’s nervous,” Emily mouthed at you behind Alexia’s back, grinning.

You nudged Alexia’s knee under the table. “You’re okay,” you whispered, leaning closer so only she could hear. “They already adore you.”

Alexia gave you a small, almost shy smile, her fingers brushing against yours under the table as if she needed that quiet point of contact to settle in.

It took a few minutes for her to settle, but the more your friends chatted mostly about the day’s chaos, the endless wardrobe changes, and Dan’s ongoing feud with one of the lighting guys the more Alexia began to relax. You weren't sure she was picking up on every word they were saying but she would nod, smile and laugh at the right times so she was catching the gist of the conversations.

She just listened, no words were spoken, her hand resting on your thigh under the table, but when Sarah asked about her football, Alexia answered in her soft, careful English, and you could see the little spark of confidence grow with each word.

Still, you could sense she was holding herself a little tight, so you shifted your chair closer until your side pressed against hers. Then you slipped your arms around her waist, resting your chin over the back of her shoulder.

She stiffened for half a second, surprised, but then let out a breath you felt more than heard, leaning into you slightly. Her hoodie was soft under your chin, and you could feel the faint rise and fall of her breathing.

Mike raised his brows, smirking at the sight. “Comfort level, koala.”

“Shut up, Mike,” you said without lifting your head, your voice muffled against Alexia’s shoulder.

That made her laugh quietly, the sound vibrating through her into your chest. She reached down and lightly touched your forearm, not pulling you away if anything, holding you there.

Every now and then, you murmured something to her quietly, explaining a joke, translating a phrase when your team spoke too fast until you felt her shoulders loosen completely.

By the time Emily was telling her infamous accidental FaceTime disaster story, Alexia was smiling, tossing in the occasional ad lib in her charmingly accented way, even earning a round of laughter from your friends.

It was subtle, but you knew, she felt safe, you knew she trusted your circle just as much as you did.

Somewhere between Sarah’s story about a broken curling iron mid-shoot and Dan miming a dramatic wardrobe malfunction, you and Alexia quietly drifted into your own little bubble.

She turned slightly in her chair so her knees brushed yours, her hand finding yours under the table. You could feel her thumb drawing slow, absent minded circles against your skin as she leaned in closer.

“What?” you asked, catching the faint smile tugging at her lips.

Her eyes softened. “You… happy,” she said in her careful English, then hesitated, searching for the right words. “I like… see you happy.”

Your chest warmed. “I’m happy because you’re here.”

She gave a tiny shake of her head, pretending to disagree, but her smile betrayed her. You nudged her playfully with your shoulder, and she laughed quiet and warm, the kind of sound you wanted to keep hearing.

From there, it was just the two of you soft giggles at shared observations, her low voice in your ear when she teased you about something, your fingers brushing along her hoodie sleeve until she caught your hand and held it there.

Every so often, one of you would lean in and steal a kiss quick, stolen moments that tasted faintly of the sangria you’d been sipping. You didn’t care if your friends noticed. Her lips were soft, her smile still lingering against yours after each kiss, like neither of you really wanted to pull away.

At one point, she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, her fingertips grazing your jaw in a way that made you forget the music, the chatter, the courtyard lights, everything except her. You were completely lost in her eyes her touch and the feelings she created within you.

Emily’s voice eventually cut through, joking, “Should we just leave you two here?” but you barely registered it. You were too caught up in the way Alexia’s eyes crinkled when she smiled at you, the warmth in her touch, and the quiet comfort of being wrapped up in nothing but each other.

You were mid-laugh at Emily when your gaze drifted down to her hands her fingers wrapped loosely around her glass and you froze for a second.

“Wait…” you murmured, leaning in closer, “is that my ring?”

She looked down like she hadn’t even realised, then gave a small, sheepish smile. “Ah… yes. You leave… in my baño,” she said, the word bathroom rolling out in that lilting Catalan accented English.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes playfully. “And you just… decided to keep it?”

She lifted her hand a little, like she was suddenly guilty of a crime. “I… was going to tell you. I wear… until see you. I give now.” She started to slide it off her finger.

Before she could, you reached out and gently pushed her hand back toward her. “No, keep it.”

Her brows lifted. “Keep?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “It suits you.”

Her lips curved slowly into a grin, and she glanced at the ring again before looking back at you with something softer in her eyes. “Then… I keep.”

You felt that little rush in your chest again the one you got whenever she let a piece of you into her world and the way she kept absently twisting the ring around her finger after that made you want to kiss her right there all over again.

Alexia kept turning the ring slowly, her thumb brushing over the metal like she was committing the feel of it to memory. “It’s… special?” she asked after a beat, glancing at you almost cautiously.

You shrugged lightly, though your smile gave you away. “A little, but I like it better on you.”

Her eyes softened, and for a moment she didn’t say anything just looked at you in that quiet, intent way of hers, like she was trying to work out how you were making her feel without her even noticing. Then, almost shyly, she lifted your joined hands to her lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

That simple gesture made your stomach flip. “You’re cute,” you whispered, grinning.

“Mm… you like cute,” she teased, her accent wrapping around the words in that playful way that made you melt.

“I do,” you admitted, leaning closer until your foreheads almost touched.

The rest of the table seemed to fade again voices turning into background hum as you and Alexia just sat there, close enough to feel each other’s breath, smiling like two people who’d forgotten anyone else existed. Her hand never left yours, the cool metal of your ring warm now against your skin.

You caught her looking down at it again, and she murmured softly, almost to herself, “I keep always.”

It didn’t take long for your little moment to be busted wide open.

Emily, who’d clearly been watching, leaned in with a knowing smirk. “Okay… what was that about?”

You blinked innocently. “What was what?”

Mike pointed blatantly at your joined hands. “The whole hand-kiss, secret-smile, ring exchange situation. You two are basically a walking romantic drama.”

Dan gasped theatrically. “Wait, ring exchange? Did you just propose in the middle of my cocktail?”

Alexia looked instantly flustered, her eyes darting to you like help me, while you just laughed. “Relax, it’s my ring. She found it in her bathroom.”

Sarah’s grin widened. “And instead of giving it back, she’s… wearing it? Like… a declaration?”

Emily’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Ohhh, so that’s your thing? Matching accessories instead of clothes?”

Alexia’s cheeks went faintly pink, and she ducked her head with a tiny smile, muttering, “They tease too much, like you.”

You squeezed her hand. “Yeah, they do,” you said softly, leaning close enough for only her to hear, “but you'll learn to give as good as you get soon”

Her smile deepened, a little bashful but unable to hide her happiness. Across the table, your friends groaned dramatically, but the truth was, they were eating up every second of it. They've never seen you this disgusting into someone before, they would be worried if they hadn't seen the way Alexia was with you, how she looked at you.

The round of drinks she bought really won them over. They were fickle your friends sometimes.

☀️

The night eventually began to wind down, the courtyard thinning out as the air grew cooler. Your team was still buzzing from the day, but you could feel the fatigue creeping in after your early start and twelve straight hours of media work.

Alexia noticed, she always did, she brushed her thumb over the back of your hand, leaning closer. “I take you home?” she asked softly.

That caught you off guard, and you gave her a little smile. “I don’t think I have the energy for… you know.” You hesitated. “… I’m tired.”

Her brows furrowed slightly before she shook her head quickly, a tiny smile playing at her lips. “No, no… I no ask you to come to do… stuff.” The way she said 'stuff' made you giggle. She squeezed your hand. “We cuddle… and sleep.”

You couldn’t help but grin at how earnest she was, the simplicity of it melting away any hesitation. “Just cuddle and sleep?” you teased.

She nodded, eyes warm. “Sí. You tired… I hold you. That’s all.”

Your chest gave that familiar little squeeze. “Okay,” you murmured, smiling softly. “I'll go home with you”

The way her face lit up told you it wasn’t about the where it was about having you there, close, even if all you did was fall asleep in her arms.

You stood, still holding Alexia’s hand, and your team’s heads all turned in unison like they knew exactly what was happening.

Emily smirked. “You off to Alexia's?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s been a long day, and I’m about two yawns away from face planting into the table.”

Sarah leaned back in her chair, grinning at Alexia. “Take care of our girl, yeah?”

Alexia nodded with that small, polite smile she gave when she was trying not to look shy. “I… will.”

Mike, of course, couldn’t resist. “Don’t keep her up too late, oh wait, never mind, you two already said it’s just cuddles.”

You shot him a look, but Alexia only squeezed your hand tighter, as if reassuring you she was fine with their teasing. Dan raised his glass. “Safe travels, smitten kittens.”

You laughed, shaking your head, and leaned over to give Emily a quick hug, then Sarah, then Mike and Dan. “I’ll see you all tomorrow, don’t get too drunk without me.”

Emily called after you as you started toward the courtyard exit. “No promises!”

Alexia gave them one last wave, and the two of you stepped out into the cooler night air, fingers lacing together naturally as you began walking toward where she’d parked.

The night air wrapped around you both as you made your way down the quiet street, your joined hands swinging slightly. Alexia’s car was parked just a short walk away, that looked as polished as she always seemed to be.

She opened the passenger door for you with a small, gentlemanly gesture that made you smile. “Gracias,” you murmured, sliding in.

When she got in on her side, she glanced at you before starting the engine. “Tired?” she asked.

You gave a little hum of agreement, leaning your head back against the seat. “You have no idea.”

As the car pulled away from the curb, the city lights painted the inside in flashes of gold and white. Neither of you talked much at first it was that comfortable kind of silence where the hum of the road was enough.

About ten minutes in, she reached across the console and took your hand again, her thumb tracing lazy patterns over your knuckles. You turned your head to look at her profile, the way her hoodie up over her head framed her face, the soft concentration as she drove, the faint smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re quiet,” you said softly.

She glanced at you briefly before returning her eyes to the road. “I… think. Is nice you here.”

Your heart did that little squeeze again. “It’s nice being here. Especially with you.”

She gave a tiny nod, like she was storing your words somewhere safe.

The rest of the ride was warm and easy, her hand never leaving yours until she pulled into her driveway a modern, luxurious house lit softly against the night sky.

She parked, turned off the engine, and looked over at you with that small, almost shy smile. “Home,” she said simply.

You reached for the door handle out of habit, but before you could push it open, Alexia was already out of the car, jogging around to your side.

You raised an eyebrow as she pulled the door open with a flourish. “You know I’m perfectly capable of”

Before you could finish, she leaned down, hooked her arms under your knees and back, and in one smooth motion lifted you clean off the seat.

“Alexia!” you squealed, giggling as you instinctively wrapped your arms around her neck. “Put me down!”

She shook her head, grinning like she’d just won a bet. “No. You tired… I carry.”

You tried to glare at her, but it was useless with the way she was looking at you so smug, so pleased with herself. “I can walk, you know.”

“I know,” she said, her accent making the words soft and warm, “but I like.”

You laughed, resting your head on her shoulder as she carried you up the path toward her front door. “This is ridiculous.”

She pressed her cheek against the top of your head briefly. “Maybe… but you smile.”

And you were smiling, wide and hopelessly fond, by the time she shifted you slightly so she could unlock the door and step inside, still holding you like you weighed nothing at all.

Alexia nudged the door closed with her hip, her trainers barely making a sound on the polished floor as she carried you through the quiet, softly lit house.

You lifted your head enough to glance around. Even though you’d been here before, the space still struck you warm neutral tones, clean lines, touches of personality tucked between the luxury.

But she didn’t stop to let you take it in. She moved with purpose, heading straight for the stairs. “Straight upstairs?” you teased.

She glanced down at you, lips twitching. “You say you tired. I take you… comfortable.”

You grinned, letting your head drop back onto her shoulder. “You’re spoiling me, Putellas.”

Her only response was a soft chuckle as she reached the top of the stairs and headed into her bedroom. The room smelled faintly of her perfume and fresh laundry, the bed already neatly made.

She set you down gently on the edge of the mattress, her hands lingering on your waist like she wasn’t quite ready to let go. “Stay,” she said, almost like an instruction, before crossing to her dresser. You kicked off your shoes and watched her pull out one of her oversized Barça training shirt and a pair of shorts, turning back to you with it in hand. “For you,” she said, offering it like a gift.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“Mm,” she hummed, that tiny proud smile playing on her lips. “Now… change. We cuddle.”

You took the clothes from her, the fabric soft and carrying that faint scent of her perfume. Alexia busied herself at her nightstand, pretending not to watch you change through the mirror, though the little upward curve of her lips betrayed her.

Once you slipped into the new outfit you padded over to the side of the bed she wasn't already occupying now “Happy?” you teased.

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to take your hand, tugging you gently toward the mattress. “Come.”

You climbed in, sliding under the covers, and she moved closer to the middle, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Without hesitation, Alexia wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you in until your back was snug against her chest.

Her warmth was immediate, her breathing slow and steady. She pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck before tucking her face there, like it was her favourite place to be.

“Better?” she murmured.

“Much better,” you whispered, your fingers finding hers under the blanket.

For a while, neither of you spoke just the sound of your breaths syncing, the steady thump of her heart against your back. Every so often, she would run her hand up and down your side in slow, absent strokes, as if reassuring herself you were really there.

You smiled to yourself, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up, and let your eyes drift shut. “You’re dangerous, you know,” you mumbled sleepily.

“How?” she asked, voice low. "You say that a lot"

“Because you make it impossible to leave.”

She chuckled softly, hugging you just a little tighter. “Good.” that was the last thing you heard before you started to drift, safe and completely wrapped up in her.

☀️

The first thing you registered when you woke was her warmth.

Morning light spilled in through the half-open curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You were still curled against Alexia, her arm draped over your waist, her hand resting just under the hem of the Barca shirt you wore.

Her breathing was slow and even, clearly still asleep, but there was a faint crease between her brows, like even in rest she was thinking. You shifted slightly to face her, and the movement made her lashes flutter.

“Bon dia,” she murmured, voice rough and low from sleep.

You smiled. “Morning.”

She blinked a few times, then gave you this slow, sleepy grin that made your stomach flip. “You still here.”

You laughed softly. “Of course I’m still here.”

Her fingers traced lazy circles against your side under the covers. “I think… maybe I dream.”

You tilted your head. “About what?”

She gave a little shrug. “About you in my bed like this.”

That quiet honesty made you melt, and before you could reply, she leaned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to your lips slow and unhurried, like she had no intention of letting the day start just yet.

When she pulled back, her eyes stayed on yours. “We stay… little more?”

You nestled closer, smiling against her collarbone. “Yeah. A little more.”

Her arm tightened around you, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist.

☀️

The kitchen smelled like fresh coffee and toasted bread as you and Alexia moved around each other, the morning sunlight spilling through the large windows. You reached for the butter, and she brushed your hand with hers, letting her fingers linger just a second longer than necessary.

“Careful,” she teased, leaning closer as she stirred the eggs. “You take my hand, you get kiss.”

You grinned, leaning up to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Hmm… deal.”

Every movement became a little dance. You passed her ingredients, and she pressed her hip against yours when she reached for the salt. You chopped vegetables side by side, her hand lightly resting on your lower back as she leaned over the counter.

“And the eggs,” she murmured, grabbing the pan as you reached for it. Your fingers brushed, and she turned to you with that sly smile. “Kiss now?”

You couldn’t resist, tilting your head up and letting your lips meet hers, soft and warm. She hummed against you, then nipped your bottom lip playfully before pulling back, eyes sparkling.

When it was time to plate the food, you both kept brushing against each other hands accidentally, or maybe not so accidentally, grazing, hips bumping. Every time one of you passed the salt or stirred something, a cheek, a forehead, a quick peck, whatever you could steal ended up happening.

By the time you sat down at the dining table, both of you were laughing softly, foreheads almost touching as you reached across to steal a piece of toast from each other’s plates, sneaking quick kisses in between bites.

You were wrapped up in your own little universe, full of giggles, touches, and kisses that felt like tiny declarations of just how perfectly tangled together you were.

☀️

You stood up from the table, stacking your plate on top of hers before she could even finish the last sip of her coffee.

Alexia frowned immediately. “No, no… you guest. I clean.”

You shook your head, already carrying the dishes to the sink. “Alexia, it’s fine. I’m not bothered.”

She followed you, crossing her arms like she was trying to block you with her presence alone. “No I do later. Is my home.”

You turned on the tap, rinsing the plates. “Yeah, and your home is going to smell like eggs if we leave this all day.”

Her lips twitched like she wanted to laugh, but she stayed firm. “I have work call. Zoom. Ten minutes. With team and coaches. Then I clean.”

You grabbed the sponge, looking over your shoulder at her. “Then let me do it now while you go set up for your call.”

She sighed, stepping closer like proximity alone might make you put the sponge down. “You not bother with this. Is my job.”

You smirked, flicking a tiny bit of water her way just to make her smile. “Alexia, I promise you, washing up a couple of dishes isn’t exactly hard labour. Go, before you’re late.”

She stared at you for a beat longer, then exhaled dramatically, muttering something in Spanish under her breath that google would tell you was impossible woman, before finally backing toward the hallway.

“I come back if you still here with sponge, I take it,” she warned with a playful point of her finger.

You laughed, turning back to the sink. “Sure you will, boss.”

You were wiping down the counter when the sound of voices floated in from the dining table quick, lively Spanish that you couldn’t keep up with to even try to translate, though the tone was unmistakably excited.

Then you heard it. Carmen.

Your head turned automatically toward the noise. Alexia was sitting straight at the table, laptop open, the Barcelona crest on the corner of the screen a man sitting in front of it. The voices through the speakers grew louder, overlapping with laughter and cheers. Alexia’s face lit up, and then she started clapping loud and proud, that kind of smile she only got when she was genuinely overjoyed for someone.

Around her, more clapping and cheering echoed from the call, some voices calling Carmen’s name again. You didn’t need to understand the words to know exactly what had just happened.

Your lips curved into a smile, warmth blooming in your chest. So Carmen had been announced to them. She was officially a Barça player, you heard her voice so she must of joined the call.

You stayed put in the kitchen, quietly drying your hands on a tea towel, not wanting to interrupt Alexia’s moment with her team. Watching her, the pride radiating off her in waves, made you love her a little more in that quiet, unspoken way how fiercely she celebrated the people she cared about.

“Alexia,” Carmen grinned, leaning closer to her camera, “Did she not tell you?”

Alexia tilted her head. “Who?”

Carmen blinked, surprised. “Wait Y/N didn’t tell you I got signed?”

Alexia shook her head slowly, brows knitting. “No”

From the other windows, she could hear a few teammates giggling, clearly already knowing what was coming. Carmen laughed, leaning back in her chair. “Wow, I told her the other day!… she’s scary good at keeping secrets. I really thought she’d tell you. You two are like” she waved her hand vaguely, “one at this point”

Alexia’s mind was turning, trying to place when exactly Carmen had called you and then it hit her. Her eyes widened. “Oh my god! I was with her when you phone her!” she blurted out, pointing at the camera. “We were on the sofa she still didn’t tell me!” The whole call erupted in laughter, and Alexia sat back in her chair, still shaking her head in disbelief. “Impossible, woman…” she muttered, a mix of shock and something almost like admiration curling in her chest, before she called out, “Muppet”

From the kitchen, you appeared in the doorway, leaning casually on the frame, tea towel still in hand. You were half in shot on the Zoom call, enough for the team to see you without you realising.

“You knew about Carmen and didn’t tell me?” Alexia asked, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to look intimidating.

You smiled, unfazed. “You didn’t ask? And I figured from what I said, you could’ve worked that out for yourself.”

Her mouth fell open just a little. “You too good at secrets.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Serves you well, doesn’t it?” Alexia gave you that look the one that said she was half annoyed, half impressed, and entirely smitten. “Don’t give me that look, Putellas,” you shot back, pointing the tea towel at her in mock warning.

From the laptop, muffled giggles and whispers came through, the girls on the call were clearly eating this up, a few of them grinning wide at the exchange.

Alexia tried to hide her own smile as she waved you away, pretending to focus back on the call, but her eyes lingered on you for just a second longer, like she wasn't door admiring you in her shirts and a training top in her home so comfortably,

From the laptop, Carmen made your movement halt “Y/N!” she called out, grinning wide. “You’re in Barça and didn’t think to visit?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I’m here for work,” you said with a shrug, still leaning on the doorframe.

Carmen raised a brow, smirking. “You look busy.”

You tilted your head, your smile growing. “It’s called a day off.”

The call erupted in a mix of chuckles and teasing oohs from the players, and you could see Alexia trying to hide her amusement while pretending to be stern with both you and Carmen.

Alexia shook her head, muttering, “Madre mía…” but there was a glint in her eyes that said she secretly loved how easily you slipped into her life like you'd always been there.

You’d barely finished speaking when Patri’s voice came through the speakers, loud enough for you to hear from the kitchen.

“Alexiaaaa…” she sang, dragging the name out in a way that immediately made Alexia’s eyes narrow.

“What?” Alexia asked, already sounding defensive.

“You’re so soft for her,” Patri teased, grinning wickedly at the camera. “Look at you, smiling like that. You don’t smile like that with us, Y/N you need to come to training so she's not so mean!”

The rest of the call erupted in laughter and knowing oohs. Jana leaned in from her little Zoom square and added, “She calls, you come running. She’s got you trained, we'll have to have her share some pointers on how to control you”

Pina cackled. “No, no, she doesn’t even need to call. She thinks about her, and Alexia’s halfway out the door.”

Alexia’s cheeks flushed just slightly, and she shook her head quickly. “No es verdad,” she muttered, glancing down at her screen, but the corner of her mouth was tugging upward despite herself.

“They’re not wrong, Putellas.” you said from the kitchen doorway, you just crossed your arms, smirking after holding up your little finger with an insinuation the girls instantly picked up on.

That made the call explode again, and Alexia looked up at you, narrowing her eyes in mock warning before muttering under her breath, “You wait…” But the way she was looking at you made it clear she didn’t actually mind them teasing her. Not one bit.

Patri squinted at her screen, leaning in. “Wait” she pointed toward you, “is that a tea towel in your hand? She putting you to work, Y/N?”

You glanced at the towel, then back at the camera, giving an exaggerated nod. “Hmm… she expects girlfriend privileges on a side piece entry.”

The whole call burst into laughter, some players doubling over in their little Zoom boxes. Alexia turned her head slowly to look at you, lips pressed together like she was trying to keep her expression neutral. “You not funny,” she said, her broken English somehow making it sound even more serious though the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.

You grinned, leaning casually against the frame. “I think I’m hilarious.”

Alexia just shook her head and waved you away, muttering, “Go before I fire you from cleaning.” But her eyes followed you back into the kitchen, soft and warm, even as her teammates continued to tease her about how gone she was for you.

☀️

The second Alexia’s call ended, you heard the faint click of her laptop closing, followed by the scrape of her chair against the floor.

Before you could even finish wiping down the counter, you felt two strong arms snake around your waist from behind. “You think you funny,” she murmured against your ear, her accent thick, her voice low enough to make your stomach flip.

You smirked, setting the tea towel aside but not turning around just yet. “I was funny. Admit it.”

Her arms tightened, pulling you flush against her. “No not funny,” she said, though her lips were brushing the shell of your ear, completely giving away the truth.

You finally turned in her hold, looping your arms around her neck. “Mhm. You loved it.”

Alexia sighed, shaking her head, but the soft smile spreading over her face told you she did. She pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, then to your lips, lingering just long enough to make your chest ache in the best way. “You clean, you tease, you make me look” she searched for the word, her brow furrowing, “soft.”

“That’s because you are soft, Putellas,” you teased, grinning when she rolled her eyes and kissed you again this time deeper, slower.

Alexia’s hands still rested lightly on your hips as she leaned back slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You know,” she said, tilting her head, “you not ask me to be your girlfriend.”

You blinked, half amused, half caught off guard. “Why would I do that?”

She shrugged casually, almost as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “I don’t know why you no ask me?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Because you’re the top. You should ask.”

Alexia hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head and letting her fingers brush up your arms. “You are pillow princess, so maybe I should.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, a mix of surprise and amusement. “What did you just call me?”

She grinned, stepping back just enough to create some playful distance. “And this time when I say,” she said, waggling her eyebrows, “I have evidence.”

The smirk on her face was irresistible, and you couldn’t help but laugh, your curiosity instantly piqued. “Evidence? Oh, what kind of evidence are we talking about?”

She only chuckled, the sound low and teasing, as she backed toward the sofa, her whole body language daring you to follow. Alexia laughed, shaking her head, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You… funny,” she said, tilting her head, but there was a teasing edge to her tone.

“You literally told me you like to give, not receive, Alexia,” you countered, mock offended, raising your eyebrows at her.

“I mean… only with strap,” she said, her voice trailing off slightly as if she knew you were about to push her buttons.

You stared her down, letting your gaze lock with hers. “Take your shorts off.”

Alexia blinked, slightly confused. “What?”

“Now.” Your tone left no room for argument.

She giggled, shaking her head. “Bossy,” she breathed, the word barely escaping as moved to straddle her where she sat, your lips agonisingly close to hers. Your fingers dipped just under the hem of her shorts, brushing her skin teasingly.

“When I’m done with you, Putellas,” you whispered, “you’ll be begging me to be your girlfriend.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching. “I have no the evidence for that yet, muppet.”

You smirked, tightening your gaze, and punctuated each word slowly, “Then… take… your, shorts… off.”

Her giggle turned into a soft, breathy laugh as she hesitated, caught between defiance and amusement, while you held her in your stare, daring her to give in.

Alexia stayed frozen for a beat, her smirk tugging at one corner of her lips, clearly enjoying making you wait.

You sighed dramatically, then closed the tiny gap between you, catching her mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss. She melted instantly, her teasing composure slipping as your lips moved against hers, deepening until your tongues slid together in a warm, messy tangle.

Her fingers curled into your shirt, holding you there like she didn’t want the kiss to end. When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, your noses still brushing, you murmured, “Now?”

Alexia’s eyes were darker now, her smirk softer, almost shy as she bit her bottom lip. Without a word, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and pushed them down, letting them fall to the floor pooling at her feet.

“You happy?” she teased, but her voice had a rough edge now, betraying the fact that you’d completely broken her little game.

You grinned. “Ecstatic.” Your fingers found the hem of her shirt, and you toyed with it for a moment, eyes locked on hers. “Arms up,” you said softly but firmly.

Alexia’s lips curled in that faintly amused, faintly nervous smile you loved, but she obeyed, lifting her arms so you could peel the shirt over her head. You tossed it aside without looking, your gaze sweeping over her now bared body beneath you, and the faint blush already blooming across her chest.

“Beautiful,” you murmured, leaning in to press a lingering kiss just below her collarbone. She sucked in a small breath, her hand coming to rest lightly on the back of your neck.

You trailed more kisses down the centre of her torso, slow enough to make her shiver, your mouth brushing over her ribs, then the curve of her stomach. Her fingers flexed against you, not quite pulling you closer but not letting you go either.

When you reached her waist, you lowered yourself to kneel in front of her, your eyes flicking up to catch hers again. Alexia was watching you with that look the one where she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to challenge you or just give in entirely.

You stayed kneeling between her knees, your hands splayed over her thighs, thumbs brushing circles over warm skin.

Alexia’s grin softened into something else, anticipation, curiosity, her breathing just a little quicker now. You leaned forward, your cheek brushing her thigh as you let your lips trail a path over her skin, slow enough to make her squirm.

Her fingers threaded into your hair, not pulling you, just keeping you there. “Who’s in control?” you murmured, tilting your head to look up at her from your position.

She exhaled a small laugh, though it was breathless. “Still me?” she tried, but her voice betrayed her.

You smirked, your hands sliding higher, your touch deliberate and confident. “We’ll see about that.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke just the sound of your breaths mingling, your gaze holding hers in a wordless challenge, then, gave a small shake of her head, surrender written all over her face.

That was all the permission you needed.

You shifted closer, your hands coaxing her thighs apart, Alexia’s breath caught, her eyes fixed on you, that faint crease between her brows betraying how intently she was feeling every movement.

You pressed soft, deliberate kisses along the inside of her leg, each one drawing a tiny twitch from her muscles. Her fingers tightened in your hair, her knuckles brushing your scalp, and you could feel her fighting the urge to pull you closer.

“You’re impatient,” you teased, your voice low against her skin.

Her lips curled into a smile, but her voice was husky. “You too slow.”

You ignored her little jab and continued your slow path upward, your mouth and hands working together to coax soft gasps from her lips. Every time she shifted forward, you leaned back just enough to make her wait, grinning when she muttered something under her breath in Spanish.

When you finally gave her what she wanted and your tongue found her clit, she let out a sharp exhale, her head tilting back against the sofa. The sound she made half sigh, half laugh was the kind of thing you wanted to bottle and keep forever.

Her grip in your hair tightened again, but now it was less control, more surrender. You could feel her body relaxing into your touch, her breathing uneven, her voice breaking on your name in a way that made you smile against her.

You rose your eyes just long enough to meet her gaze, her eyes heavy-lidded and full of heat, you were met with Alexia shaking her head slowly, her lips curving despite her breathlessness you made her forget how to speak at all. "You eyes make me crazy" she managed barely

You kept your hands anchored firmly on her hips, feeling the subtle tremor in her muscles as she tried and failed to keep still.

Alexia’s head tipped back again, one arm thrown over the back of the sofa, the other still tangled in your hair. The more she melted under your touch, the less she tried to guide you she was simply letting you set the pace, her breaths coming quicker, deeper.

Her thighs flexed around you once, twice, as if she couldn’t decide whether to pull you closer or push you away from the intensity. “Dios…” she whispered, her voice rough and low, and you felt the sound more than heard it.

You shifted your rhythm just slightly, enough to make her gasp, her back arching against the cushions. Your eyes flicked upward she was watching you now, her gaze intense, almost reverent.

“Stay… there,” she breathed, her accent thick, her tone a mix of plea and command.

You obliged, keeping your movements steady but unrelenting, and her hand slid from your hair to cradle the side of your head, not pushing, just holding you to her like she couldn’t bear the distance.

Her breathing quickened, her legs tensing on either side of you, and you knew she was right there, hovering. You gave her one last glance, and her expression eyebrows drawn, lips parted, every ounce of focus on you was all the encouragement you needed to push her over the edge. You pushed two fingers into her and her fingers tightened, her whole body curling in toward you, and you stayed with her through her orgasm, not letting go until her grip loosened and she slumped back, a faint, blissed out laugh escaping her lips.

When you finally pulled away, she was still catching her breath, eyes closed, smile tugging at her mouth. “You… not pillow princess,” she murmured without opening her eyes. “You… trouble.”

You grinned, brushing a kiss over her thigh before sitting back. “Told you.”

You stayed kneeling between her legs for a moment longer, then began pressing slow, lingering kisses up her skin over her stomach, the dip beneath her ribs, her breasts.

By the time you reached her collarbone, she’d opened her eyes again, still wearing that lazy post orgasm smile. You nuzzled in close, brushing your lips along her neck before murmuring against her ear, your voice low and teasing, as you rebound your place straddling her hips.

“Next time…” you paused, letting your mouth wander to her jaw, “you’re wearing the strap.”

Her brows lifted, a mix of surprise and intrigue in her expression. “Mm?” she hummed, fingers curling lightly at your waist.

You gave her a small, wicked smile. “I’m desperate to ride you, capi”

Her cheeks flushed not shy exactly, but you could see her pulse pick up as she laughed softly, shaking her head. “You… will like that?”

You kissed her again, slower this time, and felt her smile against your lips. “Si, would you?”

Her answer was a quiet, “Sí,” You shifted in her lap until your knees were either side of her hips, your hands braced on her shoulders. Alexia’s palms immediately found their way to your backside, cupping you firmly as if she’d been waiting for an excuse.

The kiss started slow, lazy, both of you still basking in the afterglow, but it didn’t take long for it to deepen. Her lips parted under yours, and your tongues brushed, drawing a soft hum from her chest.

Her fingers flexed against you, a mix of fondness and possession, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss when she gave you a gentle squeeze. She broke away just enough to murmur, “Perfect…” in that low, accented voice, before pulling you back in.

You giggled softly against her mouth, but she didn’t let you get far one hand sliding higher on your back, the other staying firmly planted where it was, keeping you close.

The heat between you built again, not rushed, just the comfortable kind that came from knowing neither of you wanted to be anywhere else.

Neither of you had any idea of the time or how long you were lost sexually in each other, and you weren't quite sure how you both managed it but there wasn't a surface or piece of furniture in that living room that morning you both didn't have an orgasm on.

[samkerrworshipper]

spare her her life

part one, part two, part three

summary: you hide in Barcelona to delay the inevitable and, well, the footballer is just too enticing

It wasn't the peer pressure, I just wasn't done. This line is twenty-five lines after the others in the song. You'll see why.

[...]

You don’t understand why she comes. She shouldn’t have come. It has been too long for her to never have learnt. She must’ve learnt by now. 

She’s taking a seat and ordering a coffee. Never could kick that habit. Some habits don’t need to be broken. Likes coffee too much to give it up. 

Hasn’t learnt to let things die but has learnt that she lives better with a coffee. Not that being young was an excuse back then. 

You’re looking at her. Peering at a ghost and an angel. Neither of those are real. You’ve learnt to accept that these projections of her in your life aren’t real. Even when you had found the number and recited the digits and wondered if she still had the phone. 

She hands you a coffee, too. Fingernails painted red. Messily. “My niece,” she explains when you stare. The first words she’s spoken to you. You didn’t deserve a greeting — you weren’t surprised by that. “She’s practising.” 

Your own manicure is the antithesis. Nude. Sensible. Soft hands no longer hardened by rings. You see her notice. A crinkle between her eyebrows. A tightening of her jaw, as if she’d have preferred the married woman. As if nothing had really changed and you could both be faithful to being unfaithful. Not that that’s what this is. 

You clear your throat. You have to. 

“We didn’t last a decade. My mother was diagnosed with cancer. It put a lot of things into perspective.” It feels like an apology. You know you can’t apologise for things you did twenty-five years ago. You know you can’t apologise and fix what was broken, because sometimes it’s broken beyond repair. “When she died,” you say quietly, hoping Alexia won’t stand up and leave, “the only thing I could think about was how trapped I felt. How I didn’t have to feel that way. He signed without protest, you know.” 

She swallows. Not her coffee. Air. Needs the air to breathe but is finding that difficult in your presence. Her niece’s mother had warned her about this. 

“We… I have a daughter. And a son.” She flinches. “My son came out to us a few weeks ago. Well, to me. Richard was in Shanghai. I don’t speak to him.

“He’s gay. Said it very easily, but it was a shock. Not because I didn’t know but because the only thing I could think to reply was — Alexia, this is so hard.” you’re stammering and Alexia has never seen this before. Never seen you struggle and get swept away. Here you are, trying. She’d stopped trying twenty-five years ago.

“You look older,” she says. Her English is good now. Better than your Spanish. Primed by years of interviews and conversations and keeping her head down in lessons so that it all really went in. 

You laugh. Same laugh. 

“I am older. So are you.” Your eyes focus on your drink. The right drink. She remembers. “I never read about a wedding.” 

“I decided I didn’t believe in marriage.” She pauses. Wonders if your daughter looks like you. Laughs like you. “There was someone. Gone, now.” 

A relic. Exists in a paradox. Had sworn to hate love, hated how you taught her good love was love that ruined you. Destroyed and massacred. Love that had casualties. 

“I don’t blame you for what you did. You were terrible to me. But you were scared. Just scared.” A coward, she means to say. Won’t say it because she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. It’s been too long for that. “I was scared too. Of losing. I wanted something I couldn’t have.” 

“I’m still scared,” you confess. The voice leaves you weak. Age has fortified most things. This is something that will never change, though. Will stay the same. Like Carlota’s obsession with painting her wife. Like your daughter's smile. Like your son’s carnal need to analyse you and murmur truths that have been buried under rugs for decades. 

“I know.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Whets the blade. Wields it but won’t strike. The steel yearns to meet flesh, to taste the blood and feel the warmth. 

A bell rings at the entrance of the café. Her niece has walked in, pointing at her watch. Alexia is supposed to be taking her to training. Started at La Masia this season. Another blonde-headed Putellas is finally running around in a Barça strip. Same big dreams, same discomfort with how the world is. 

She uses the blade to cut you free instead. 

[samkerrworshipper]

Based on this request

You’ve just moved back to Barcelona with your four year old daughter, and life has been all about her since the day she was born. Your long time friend Alba thinks it’s about time you started focusing on yourself again, especially when it comes to dating. She’s always loved to meddle in your love life, and now she’s pushing harder than ever.

The problem? The person she’s nudging you toward is her sister, charming, cocky, and exactly the kind of complication you’re not sure you’re ready for. Dipping your toe back into the dating pool is one thing… diving headfirst into something with Albas sister known for casual flings is another.

Part 2

Warning: Sex

You weren’t supposed to be here for long. Just a quick coffee stop before work, in, out, and on your way. The tiny café on the corner was already buzzing with the pre work crowd, the smell of freshly ground beans clinging to the air. You shuffled forward in line, scrolling through your phone, half awake and in desperate need of caffeine.

“Long time, no supermarket.”

You froze, the voice sparking instant recognition. Lifting your head, you found Alexia standing a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of a black bomber jacket, hair pulled back into a low bun. She was leaning casually against the counter, a paper cup already in hand, watching you with that infuriatingly self assured smile.

You narrowed your eyes, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with the faintest curve. “Do you just… appear in places like some sort of overly confident apparition?”

Alexia’s smirk widened. “Only when fate calls for it.”

“That’s twice now you’ve used fate as an excuse,” you countered, stepping forward as the line moved. “Starting to sound like you believe it.”

“Maybe I do,” she said easily, eyes still fixed on you. “Or maybe I just like the idea of running into you in random places.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, more amused than you wanted to admit. “If this is your way of trying to make it look like you’re not stalking me, you might want to work on your subtlety.”

Her gaze flicked over you once, deliberately slow, before she took a sip of her coffee. “Oh, I’d be much more obvious if I was stalking you.”

You raised an eyebrow, equal parts unimpressed and intrigued. “Good to know.”

The barista called your order, and you stepped forward to collect your cup. When you turned back, Alexia was still there, still leaning against the counter like she had nowhere else to be.

“You on your way to work?” she asked.

“Yes,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Some of us have normal jobs that don’t involve stadium lights and screaming fans.”

“Normal’s overrated,” she replied, falling into step beside you as you pushed open the café door.

You shot her a sidelong look. “Are you following me now?”

“I’m walking the same way,” she said, her tone deliberately innocent, though the glint in her eyes told you otherwise. “Coincidence.”

“You really don’t like losing, do you?” you asked.

Her answering smile was slow, deliberate. “Not even a little.”

You shook your head, sipping your coffee as the two of you kept walking. Somehow, she made coincidence feel intentional. Alexia matched your pace easily, hands still tucked into her jacket pockets, her stride unhurried.

“So,” she began, “what’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done at work?”

You frowned, glancing at her. “At work? I’m a teacher. My version of rebellion is using the good stickers when the school says they’re for ‘special occasions only.’”

Her mouth quirked up. “Risk taker. Dangerous.”

“And you?” you asked, arching an eyebrow. “What’s your wildest workplace rebellion? Wearing mismatched socks to training?”

Alexia grinned, that confident edge still there but softened with genuine amusement. “I once told the manager I had a physio appointment... I went for pancakes.”

You snorted. “Wow. The danger. The deceit.”

“I know,” she said gravely, but her eyes were sparkling. “I live on the edge.”

The two of you fell into a rhythm your teasing met with her quick wit, her stories punctuated by your dry commentary. You hadn’t expected her to be funny. Charming, yes. Confident, obviously, but she had a knack for landing the kind of quiet, understated punchlines that caught you off guard and made you laugh before you could stop yourself.

By the time you reached the corner where your paths would split, you were almost reluctant to stop.

“Well,” you said, nodding toward your street, “this is me.”

Alexia tilted her head, studying you for a beat longer than necessary. “Guess I’ll have to rely on fate again, then.”

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched. “Or, you know, you could just… not.”

Her smile deepened, just enough to feel like she’d scored a small victory. “Where’s the fun in that?” she turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your coffee and the realisation that you were still smiling.

👧🏼

It happened three days later.

You’d stopped by the small, quiet park near your apartment after work, needing a breather before heading home where your mother waited with Aurora. The sun was low, painting everything gold, and you were content just sitting on a bench with your book, letting the noise of the day fade.

“Either you’ve got a habit of showing up in my favourite places,” came a familiar voice from behind you, “or we’ve got some very cooperative fate on our hands.”

You didn’t have to turn around to know. “Starting to think you’ve got a GPS on me, Putellas.”

When you glanced up, she was already settling onto the other end of the bench, effortlessly comfortable like she’d been invited. She was in training gear this time, hair still damp, clearly fresh from practice.

“No GPS,” she said, leaning back with a little smirk. “Just really good timing.”

You closed your book halfway. “You realise this is bordering on suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” She tilted her head, pretending to think. “Or… convenient?”

You gave her a look. “Depends on your definition of convenient.”

She grinned, but this time there was a softness under it. “Mine’s getting to talk to you without having to bribe my sister into arranging it.”

That caught you off guard the ease in her voice, the way she wasn’t hiding behind the usual cocky quips. “So this isn’t just your standard charming athlete routine?” you asked, narrowing your eyes playfully.

Alexia chuckled. “I mean… I can still be charming if you want. But no. I’m just trying to get to know you.”

You studied her for a moment, weighing the sincerity against the smooth delivery. But it didn’t feel like an act. "Alright,” you said slowly, closing your book. “One question. That’s it.”

She looked like she’d just been handed a penalty kick in an empty net. “Only one?”

“Make it count.”

Alexia leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees, eyes never leaving yours. “What’s the one thing you’d drop everything to do, if you could?”

It was so far from the flirty banter you’d been expecting that you blinked and you had the sneaking suspicion she was paying very close attention to your answer. You leaned back against the bench, considering her question. “Drop everything? As in… no responsibilities, no planning, no consequences?”

“Exactly,” Alexia said, watching you like she was trying to read the thoughts forming in your head.

You exhaled slowly, eyes drifting toward the orange tinted skyline. “I think… I’d get on a train. Just pick a direction and go. No destination, no schedule. Just… see where I ended up.”

Her lips curved, not quite a smile but close. “That’s… very you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Very me? You barely know me.”

“Not true,” she countered. “I’ve noticed things. You like control, but you crave a little chaos. You’re careful… but you’d jump if the moment was right.”

The accuracy made you blink. “That’s oddly specific for someone who’s talked to me, what, three times?”

She shrugged, but her eyes held yours without wavering. “I’m a good observer.”

“And what about you?” you asked, tilting your head. “If you could drop everything?”

Her answer came without hesitation. “Travel, but not for football. Just for me. Somewhere quiet, somewhere no one knows my name.”

You could hear the weight in it, the truth behind the wish and for the first time, the wall of effortless confidence she carried seemed thinner, more human. “Guess we’re both running away in our hypothetical scenarios,” you said lightly, trying to pull the mood back before it got too heavy.

She chuckled. “Maybe, or maybe we’re just picking the kind of freedom we can’t usually have.”

It was quiet for a moment, not awkward, just charged. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to talk to her like this without the interruption of real life looming in the background.

But before you could say anything else, she pushed herself up from the bench. “Alright. I’ll let you get back to your book before you accuse me of stalking again.”

You smirked. “No promises I won’t.”

Alexia’s grin flashed as she started walking backward down the path. “See you around, mystery train girl.”

And then she was gone, leaving you with the faintest, most inconvenient thought. You wanted to see her again.

👧🏼

It happened yet again the following week, and completely by accident.

You’d ducked into a small, hole in the wall café near the school for a much needed caffeine boost before tackling the last of your marking. It wasn’t your usual spot, but the place smelled like fresh croissants and the rain outside had made it too inviting to pass up.

You were halfway through ordering when a familiar voice floated in from behind you.

“Careful, you’re going to start making this a habit.”

You turned, and there she was hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing a rain spotted hoodie and jeans, looking far more approachable than the billboard version of her you were used to seeing. You shook your head. “If you’re about to claim this is your café, too, I’m starting to think you’ve been following me since the supermarket.”

“I told you, no GPS,” she said, stepping past you to greet the barista by name. “Just fate being generous.”

“Generous isn’t the word I’d use,” you said, but you couldn’t quite hide your smile.

When you reached for your card to pay, the barista shook their head. “She got it,” they said, nodding toward Alexia, who had already tapped her own card on the reader without you noticing.

“Really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Consider it a public service,” she replied, taking both cups when they were ready. “You looked like you needed this more than I did.”

And before you could argue, she was heading toward a corner table by the window, glancing back only once to make sure you were following. You told yourself you could have taken your coffee to go. You could have, but you didn’t.

She slid one cup across to you when you sat down. “So, mystery train girl… what’s on your schedule today besides marking papers and accidentally running into me?”

You sipped, pretending not to notice the amused glint in her eyes. “I’m starting to think you’re the one accidentally running into me.”

Alexia leaned back in her chair, a lazy confidence in her posture. “If I were trying, you’d know.”

“Cocky,” you said.

“Accurate,” she corrected, smiling and then, almost unexpectedly, she launched into a story about her first disastrous attempt at cooking for her teammates complete with sound effects and exaggerated hand gestures and you found yourself laughing. Actually laughing.

You’d known she could be charming. You hadn’t expected her to be genuinely funny, the kind of funny that snuck up on you and made you forget you’d been tired, or stressed, or wary of her attention in the first place.

By the time the rain had eased outside, you realised you’d been sitting there for nearly an hour and worse you weren’t entirely ready for it to end.

You glanced at your phone mid-laugh and felt your stomach drop. The time glared back at you.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, already gathering your bag.

Alexia’s brow lifted. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m late,” you said, standing so fast your chair scraped against the floor.

“Late for what?” she asked, leaning forward like she expected a real answer.

But you weren’t about to explain. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got to go. Thanks for the coffee really” You were already halfway to the door, shrugging into your coat. “I’ll, uh… see you around.”

You didn’t wait for her reply, just pushed out into the damp street, the rush of cool air hitting you like a slap. Your pace quickened automatically, legs eating up the pavement as you muttered at yourself under your breath.

Of all days to lose track of time.

Aurora loved her new nursery too much sometimes. She’d pout if you came to collect her before she was done building something elaborate in the block corner with her favourite friend, but heaven help you if you were late. If she was one of the last children sitting at the table with the nursery staff tidying up around her? You’d never hear the end of it all evening.

You pictured it now the narrowed eyes, the unimpressed little sigh, the dramatic slump of her small shoulders. The child had a flair for theatre, and you had no one to blame but yourself.

So you pushed on, coffee cup still warm in your hand, cursing the fact that Alexia’s ridiculous cooking story had been so funny you’d forgotten about the clock entirely.

By the time you reached the nursery, you were a little out of breath from half-jogging the last stretch. You spotted Aurora instantly through the big front windows, sitting at the craft table with her friend, a glue stick in one hand and what looked suspiciously like more glitter than paper in front of her.

The moment she clocked you, her eyes widened not in delight, but in dramatic disbelief.

“You late,” she announced as soon as you stepped inside, hands going straight to her hips.

“I’m two minutes late,” you said, holding up your fingers for emphasis as you signed her out with the staff.

“Still late mama,” she countered, shaking her head like she was deeply disappointed in your life choices. “I was the third last one here.”

You bit back a smile. “Tragic.”

“Is tragic,” she said with all the gravity of someone announcing the end of the world, before brightening as she grabbed her bag. “But… I made you something.”

She held up a glitter covered piece of paper with a vague heart shape in the middle. It left a dusting of sparkles all over your hands when you took it, and you knew your kitchen table was about to suffer the same fate.

“See? Now you forgiven,” she added as if she was the one doing you a favour.

“Lucky me,” you said, hoisting her bag onto your shoulder.

She chattered all the way home, completely forgetting her earlier indignation, while you listened and nodded in the right places grateful you’d made it in time, even if just barely.

Alexia and her smirk could wait. Aurora came first. Always.

You step inside your apartment with Aurora’s small hand firmly wrapped in yours, the soft click of the door closing behind you signaling the start of your familiar evening routine. The scent of home, faintly of lavender from the diffuser and last night’s dinner lingering in the air settles around you both like a warm blanket.

Aurora immediately lets go of your hand and dashes to her little play corner in the living room, where her toys are scattered in a happy mess. You smile, watching her animated as she builds towers with blocks and makes up stories with her stuffed animals. Sitting down on the floor beside her, you join in, letting yourself get caught up in the simple joy of her laughter and wild imagination.

After a while, you gently remind her it’s time for dinner. Aurora protests with a playful whine but follows you into the kitchen, hopping onto her booster seat at the table. While you prepare something quick but nutritious usually a little pasta with sauce or some veggies and chicken Aurora chats about her day, her eyes bright as she recounts small adventures and new friends.

Once dinner is finished and the dishes are tidied away, it’s time for the bath. Aurora splashes happily, making a game of pouring water and blowing bubbles, and you keep an eye out to make sure the water isn’t too hot. Towelling her off and wrapping her in her favourite fluffy towel, you head to her bedroom, the soft glow of a nightlight already casting gentle shadows on the walls.

She climbs into bed as you sit beside her, pulling a picture book from the shelf. Tonight’s story is one of magic and kindness a tale she’s heard many times but never tires of. Your voice softens with each page turn, the rhythmic cadence of the story weaving a peaceful spell.

When the final page is turned, you tuck her in tightly, smoothing down her hair and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Aurora’s eyelids flutter closed, the day’s energy finally spent.

“Goodnight, my little star,” you whisper, standing and quietly leaving the room, the door left slightly ajar so you can hear her steady breathing as she drifts to sleep.

👧🏼

The morning light filtered softly through the classroom windows as your students filed in, their chatter and footsteps filling the room with familiar energy. You settled at your desk, organizing papers and preparing for the day ahead when a familiar voice interrupted your focus.

“Knock knock,” Alba teased, appearing at the door with her trademark grin.

You looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Morning. What’s up?”

She sauntered over, dropping her bag by your desk. “So… about your little coffee date with Alexia.”

Your head snapped up, surprise flickering across your face. “Date? It wasn’t a date. We just happened to be at the same café, that’s all.”

Alba laughed softly, clearly amused. “Uh-huh. That’s what you say, but apparently, you caused quite the stir.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was just coffee.”

She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Yeah, well, Alexia’s been asking about you. Wanting to know if you're ok after your sudden quick exit”

You shook your head, trying to keep your tone steady. “Look, Alba, you know I’m not interested in anything right now. I barely have time to breathe, let alone date someone like her.”

Alba’s grin softened. “Fair enough, but you’re not as good at hiding things as you think.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

She gave you a playful nudge on the shoulder. “Anytime. Now, let’s get through the day before Alexia shows up with another surprise visit.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as Alba left the room, already plotting her next move.

👧🏼

By the time you got Aurora into bed that night, your patience felt like it had been stretched paper thin.

From the moment you’d picked her up from nursery, it had been one battle after another, her refusing to hold your hand crossing the road, deliberately stomping through a muddy puddle despite you warning her not to, refusing dinner, splashing half the bathwater onto the floor, and flat out ignoring you when you told her it was time to get into bed.

It wasn’t that she was bad, she was four, but today, she’d pushed every button you had, and you were running on fumes.

When you finally closed her bedroom door, you just stood there for a moment in the hallway, breathing in the silence like it was oxygen. Then you wandered into the living room and sank onto the sofa, elbows on your knees, head in your hands.

The exhaustion wasn’t just physical it was the kind that sat in your bones. The kind that made your eyes sting, your throat tighten. You were so close to crying you could already feel the lump forming in your chest.

And then a knock at the door.

It startled you, sharp against the quiet. You froze for a moment, torn between pretending you weren’t home and actually answering it. Whoever it was, you weren’t sure you had the energy to deal with them, but the knock came again, softer this time, almost tentative.

You drag yourself off the sofa and pad to the door, still unsure whether you’re ready for human interaction.

When you pull it open, you blink in surprise.

Alexia is standing there in jeans and a hoodie, hair pulled back, looking nothing like the poised image you’d seen splashed across sports headlines. In one hand, she’s holding a bottle of wine. She doesn’t say anything just lifts it slightly in a silent offer, one brow raised as if to ask, Well?

For a second, you just stare at her, mind catching up. You’re not sure whether your pulse is reacting to the wine… or to her.

You bite the inside of your cheek, weighing it up. You could send her away and crawl into bed, or you could let her in and maybe forget about the day for a while.

Without a word, you step aside.

Her mouth curves in a small, knowing smile, and she slips past you into the apartment like she’s done it a hundred times before. Still no words between you, just the quiet scrape of the door closing and the faint clink of glass as she sets the bottle down on your kitchen counter.

She moves with a casual confidence, already scanning for glasses as if she’s in her own place. You’re left leaning against the door, wondering when exactly she learned to read you so easily.

You push yourself away from the door and cross the room, your bare feet quiet against the floor.

Alexia’s already found two glasses from the cupboard, impressive, considering you’d have had to think about where they were. She glances up at you briefly, that same half smile tugging at her lips as she twists the corkscrew into the bottle.

Still, she doesn’t speak.

You watch her pour the wine, the deep red swirling into each glass, and when she slides one across the counter toward you, your fingers brush as you take it. There’s something almost deliberate about the way she lets the contact linger for half a second too long.

You take a sip before saying anything. The warmth hits instantly, both from the wine and from her being here, uninvited but somehow exactly what you needed.

"Long day?" she asks finally, voice low but not prying.

You huff out something that’s half a laugh, half a sigh. "Something like that."

She doesn’t push, just nods and takes her own drink, leaning a hip against the counter like she’s perfectly content to wait you out and maybe that’s what makes you stay put instead of retreating to your sofa. Because right now, with her here, it doesn’t feel quite as heavy.

Alexia tilts her head, studying you like she’s trying to work out the exact balance between giving you space and pulling you out of whatever knot your day tied you into.

“So,” she says, her tone lighter now, “do you always look like you’ve just survived a small natural disaster, or is tonight special?”

You glance at her over the rim of your glass, managing a dry laugh, “If you’re trying to cheer me up, that’s… one way to go about it.”

A smirk tugs at her mouth. “Hey, I didn’t say you look bad. Just like someone who needs a wine.” She swirls her wine, watching the liquid as if the answer might be in there. “I’ve had days like that. Match goes badly, you just want to go home and switch off, but then the dog knocks over your dinner and you realise you’ve got no clean socks. That sort of day.”

You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “You? The Alexia Putellas? Bad days?”

She shrugs, feigning modesty. “Hard to believe, I know, but even the greats have moments where the universe conspires against them.”

You lean an elbow on the counter, warming to her unexpectedly easy humour. “So what’s your cure for those days?”

“Wine helps,” she says, lifting her glass in a mock toast. “But mostly? Good company. Distracts you before you start plotting revenge against your own laundry.”

You arch a brow. “And you decided I’m good company?”

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, steady and confident. “I decided you needed someone to remind you you’re not alone in it. The ‘good company’ bit is just a bonus.”

It’s cocky, sure, but there’s sincerity under it. Enough that you find yourself smiling before you can stop it.

Her smirk deepens as she sets her glass down, the sound of it meeting the counter impossibly loud in the quiet room.

“You know,” she says, her voice low and teasing, “you’re different.”

You tilt your head, wary but curious. “Different how?”

“Most people…” She steps closer, slow, deliberate. “…don’t talk back to me the way you do or they try too hard. You don’t do either." Another step, and she’s close enough that you catch the faint scent of her perfume something warm, subtle, and ridiculously distracting.

“I’m not most people,” you say, though your voice comes out softer than you meant.

Her lips quirk, like you’ve just confirmed something she already knew. “No. You’re not.” The air between you shifts charged now, thick with something you don’t quite have a name for. She leans in a fraction, her eyes locked on yours, and murmurs, “Tell me to stop.”

She’s so close you can feel the warmth of her breath against your skin.

You don’t.

Instead, you stay perfectly still, your heart thundering in your chest, and when her lips brush yours, it’s like a thread snaps. You close the distance, the kiss slow but certain, tasting of wine and something you can’t place something entirely her.

Her hand comes to the side of your face, gentle but grounding, like she’s making sure you’re really there, really choosing this and you are.

The kiss deepens naturally, like neither of you had to think about it just instinct, heat, and the faint hum of tension finally breaking.

Alexia’s thumb brushes along your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. She tilts her head slightly, changing the angle, and you feel that little pull in your stomach that makes it far too easy to forget the day you’d had, the exhaustion, everything.

When she finally pulls back, it’s only far enough to look at you. Her eyes search your face like she’s memorising it. There’s a faint smirk still on her lips, but softer now, tinged with something you can’t quite name.

“You didn’t tell me to stop,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

You huff a laugh, trying to sound more composed than you feel. “I'm very aware of that.”

“Good,” she says, still close enough that the words feel like they settle against your skin.

For a moment, you both just stand there breathing the same air, suspended between what just happened and whatever comes next until she leans back slightly, though her hand stays against your cheek. “Better than wine?” she teases, one brow raised.

You meet her gaze, still catching your breath. “I’ll need another sample to be sure.”

That earns you a low chuckle, and her smirk returns in full. “Dangerous answer.”

“Maybe,” you reply, though you’re not moving away either.

She studies you for a beat longer, then finally lets her hand drop, but the warmth lingers where she touched you. Her pinky grazes yours like it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing, not with the way she’s watching you.

There’s no smirk now, no teasing line ready on her lips, just that quiet, steady gaze that feels like it could strip you bare without her ever touching you.

You don’t speak. You don’t need to.

Your fingers find hers slowly, deliberately, slotting together until your palms are flush. Her grip tightens, gentle, but sure, like she’s testing if you’ll pull away. You don’t.

The stem of your wine glass is cool against your fingertips as you set it down, the faintest clink marking the point of no return. Still holding her hand, and without breaking eye contact, you turn toward the hallway.

You’ve never been reckless, not in years, but this feels like stepping off a ledge and realising you want to fall. The quiet thrum in your chest drowns out the voice in your head listing all the reasons you shouldn’t.

Alexia follows without hesitation.

The soft creak of your bedroom door feels deafening in the stillness, and for a brief second, you wonder if you’re making a mistake then her hand slides to your waist, warm and certain, and you stop thinking altogether.

Your body knows what it wants.

Her.

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing the two of you in that small, charged space. It’s dim only the soft spill of light from the hall catching the edge of her cheekbone, the curve of her mouth.

She doesn’t rush. Her hand, still resting on your waist, draws the faintest line up your side, slow enough that it feels deliberate. The warmth of her palm seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, igniting something low in your stomach.

You’re standing close enough now that you can feel her breath, that subtle shift in the air between you before something happens.

Her eyes flick to your mouth for just a second before they return to yours, and there’s that unspoken question again only this time you answer by closing the final inch between you.

The kiss is unhurried at first, exploratory, her lips brushing yours like she’s memorising the shape before pressing in firmer.

One of her hands slides to the small of your back, pulling you closer until your hips meet. The other drifts up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head just so.

It’s intoxicating, her scent, the quiet hum in her throat, the way her fingers flex against your spine.

You’re not thinking about tomorrow, or the fact that this is wildly out of character for you. You’re just feeling the softness of her lips, the heat of her body, and the dizzy realisation that you don’t want her to stop.

Her fingers twist gently in your hair, nails grazing your scalp in a slow, teasing rhythm. The softness of her lips against yours suddenly shifts becoming firmer, deeper, more urgent. You catch your breath, the kiss pulling you in like a tide you don’t want to resist.

Her hand slips beneath your shirt, fingertips tracing the curve of your ribs, sending electric sparks that make your skin tingle and shiver. You respond instinctively, your hands moving to her waist, pulling her impossibly closer until there’s no space left between you.

She breaks the kiss briefly to trail a hot, featherlight path down your jaw to the pulse at your neck. Her lips linger there, warm and claiming, and you tilt your head back, giving yourself over to the delicious pressure and the slick, heated trail of her breath.

Clothes fall away with practiced ease, every inch of skin pressed together carries a silent conversation, a blend of trust, longing, and something tender and new.

She moves with a confidence that is both thrilling and grounding, like she knows exactly what she wants, but is equally intent on making sure you want it too. Your breath hitches when her lips find yours again, softer this time, a gentle exploration that belies the fire burning just beneath.

Her hands slide to your hips, steady and certain, and before you can even register her intent, she’s lifting you as though you weigh nothing.

A surprised laugh escapes you, cut short when your back meets the soft mattress. She follows you down, bracing herself over you, her hair falling forward to frame her face like a curtain.

The confidence in her movement steals your breath, but it’s the look in her eyes, hungry, certain, and just a touch reverent that sends heat rushing through you.

Her palms press into the bed on either side of your head, caging you in without making you feel trapped. If anything, the power in her presence makes you feel wanted in a way that’s almost dizzying.

“Comfortable?” she asks, her voice low, teasing, but with an undertone of genuine care.

You nod, pulse quickening, your fingers already finding the warm skin at her waist, pulling her down until your bodies meet.

She dips her head, lips grazing yours in a kiss that starts soft, exploratory, but quickly deepens her weight settling over you, her hands beginning their slow, deliberate exploration.

Every shift of her hips, every press of her mouth feels like she’s learning you, committing each reaction to memory and you’re letting her.

Her kiss deepens, her body pressing flush against yours, and the heat between you builds until it’s almost unbearable. Her hands roam with purpose, fingertips mapping every inch of skin they find.

You arch into her touch, your breath hitching when her mouth trails from your lips to your jaw, then lower, each kiss deliberate and lingering. The scent of her, the warmth of her, the quiet rasp of her breathing it all pulls you further under.

Her touch is both commanding and gentle, guiding you into a rhythm that feels like it’s been written into your skin. She listens to your every sound, every shiver, responding in ways that draw you higher, closer to breaking apart.

Your hands explore her in return, memorising the flex of muscle beneath soft skin, the way her breath stutters when you find the right spot. The give and take becomes instinctive, a wordless conversation that says far more than either of you could speak aloud.

Her mouth moves down your neck to your collarbone until you feel her breathe on your breasts, she takes one nipple between her lips, slow and purposeful, tongue circling, teeth grazing just enough to spark a fresh jolt of want through your nerves. You bite your lip, a gasp catching in your throat. She coaxes it out with the flat of her tongue, humming low in her chest as if she’s savouring every noise you make.

She moves slowly, as though there’s no where she’d rather be, no rush at all her hands exploring your ribs, the dip of your waist, the curves and hollows she finds with a kind of patient hunger. Each new place she touches feels new to you too, a surprise and slightly dangerous, as if her touch itself could rewire you.

Somewhere under the pulse in your ears, you register her murmuring your name, so quietly you might have missed it if she weren’t so close. She says it like it’s a secret.

The bed creaks under your shifting bodies, the sheets twisting beneath you, and your breath comes in short, greedy bursts. When you finally open your eyes, she’s looking at you with that same impossible reverence, like you’re made of flame and she’s determined not to get burned.

She slows, smiling just a little dimples at the edge of her mouth, lashes lowered, a question in the gentle press of her mouth against your chest. You nod, unable to quite smile, your body a tightwire of hope and ache. Alexia’s lips drag a careful line from the hollow of your throat down the centre of your torso, lingering at the places that make you shiver, her tongue painting lazy, electric circles. 

She pauses at your navel, and glances up through her lashes. The heat of her gaze makes you want to squirm. Instead you fist the sheets, waiting. She noses lower, mouthing the skin just below your hipbone, leaving a constellation of kisses and small, possessive nips. Your back arches as she settles between your thighs, arms winding under your legs to hold you open. Her palms are hot, bracing your hips, anchoring you to the mattress.

You hear yourself gasp when her tongue finally touches you delicate, almost shy, a slow flick that teases more than it satisfies.

The contact turned sharp and vivid, a jolt up through your spine, and you had to clamp your forearm over your mouth to keep from crying out. Alexia tasted you as though she’d been starved for a week, tongue pressing, flattening, then softening into these slow, sucking pulls that left your nerves flaring. There was no fumbling, no embarrassment just a relentless focus that sent each flick and slide rolling up the length of your body.

Your leg twitched. You felt her smile against you.

She set a rhythm, insistent and clever, and every time you thought you’d gotten used to it, she changed circling the tip of her tongue, then dipping lower, then sucking just enough to make your hips jerk helplessly. The sheets under your fists were hot and damp, your thighs trembling, and she kept you right at the threshold until your hands scrabbled for her hair, needing something to hold onto, something to anchor you as if you might fly off the bed and out the window if she let you go.

Alexia hummed, a low, pleased sound. Each vibration sank up through your stomach, gathering heat and tension until you thought you might burst open like a firework. She licked again, slower, greedy for the way your legs shook around her. When her tongue circled just right, she grazed her teeth over you, so gentle it felt like lightning. All logic left your body in a single, moan.

She drew back just for a second, her breath wet and hot against your skin. The words were lost before they reached your mouth, but she didn’t seem to need them her gaze flicked up, found yours, and she smiled, wolfish and soft at once. With a steadying hand at your hip, she dove in again, more insistent this time, and you surrendered, every nerve tuned to the pressure and heat.

She didn’t let up when you started to shake one hand left your hip to slide up, splaying over your belly to hold you down, as if she knew you might come apart without something solid. Her tongue circled, then pressed, and again, and again, and you felt the tidal pull building, impossible to ignore. You tried to warn her, half-formed words snagging in your throat, but her only answer was a hum that vibrated straight through you.

You couldn’t have moved even if you wanted to her hand held you down, her mouth drew you out. Your hips shifted of their own accord, seeking pressure, chasing the heat of her tongue. She let you, adjusted to each stutter of your body with an easy patience that made you feel like you could shatter and not be ruined.

You tried to remember how to breathe while the tension built, curling tighter and tighter in your gut until you were sure you’d fly apart. Light sparked behind your eyelids. She sucked softly, then harder, her tongue flicking so fast and precise you couldn’t bite back the noise she pulled from you, a sound you’d never made before, sharp and desperate.

Alexia made a pleased noise, the vibration sending you over. For a second, there was only the white hot, electric rush of sensation, like someone had pulled the rug out from under you and left you suspended, weightless, in the blinding aftermath. You shook, helpless, as waves of heat chased each other up your spine. For a moment, you forgot how to be human forgot your name, your job, the place, the time, the fact your daughter was in the next room. There was only the sharp, bright burn of release, and Alexia’s mouth, softening as she coaxed every last tremor from you.

When the wave finally receded, you were left gasping, a tremble running through your legs. Alexia eased her grip on your hips, her touch gentle now, as though she was afraid to bruise you. She pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, then another just above your hipbone, tracing her mouth up the length of your body. With each new kiss, you became aware of the sweat cooling on your skin, the thrum of blood in your ears, the wild, animal ache of wanting her even more.

Alexia’s mouth lingered just above your skin, her breath hot and humid as she slid up your body in a slow, torturous climb. Her tongue flicked over your stomach, tasting the sweat that pooled along your skin, and you realised you were still trembling, every muscle taut and uncertain. She seemed to like that her hands splayed wide at your hips, anchoring you to the mattress, thumb pressing lazy circles into your thigh.

You tried to catch your breath, but she didn’t give you space to recover. Instead, she bit softly at your ribs, dragging her teeth until you shivered, before her lips found the underside of your breast. She kissed it once, twice, then worked up to your nipple, enveloping it in a heat that somehow reignited all the nerve endings you thought she’d already burned out of you. You arched, helpless, letting her take whatever she wanted.

She pushed herself up, and the pressure of her gaze on your face was more intimate than anything that had come before. You wondered if she could see the way your heart hammered, or if she felt it, palm pressed flat over your stomach.

She moved up, then higher, and suddenly her mouth was on yours again, insistent, greedy, her tongue slick with the taste of you. You tasted yourself, salt and something sweeter, and it made your head spin. You clung to her shoulders, her hair, trying to pull her closer, because after everything you still needed more.

Her thigh pressed between yours, steady and hot. Your hips rolled into the pressure, chasing sensation that should have been impossible, so soon after. She pressured forward, a slick heat drawing up from the base of her pelvis to the tips of her fingers. She steadied herself with a hand on your thigh and slid her knee backward, you caught your breath, a stutter in the air, as your hips rose to meet the core line of her body.

She shifted, the sweep of her calf against your inner thigh, the impossible heat of her skin as she slotted herself against you. The friction was more than you expected, less than you needed, and you bucked up to tangle your bodies closer, wanting nothing between you, not even air. Her hands dug into the mattress by your hips, muscles cording tighter beneath her skin. Through the blur of sensation, you felt the tremor in her, the restraint it took for her to hold back, to not devour you whole.

You wrapped your leg over her waist, locking her in place. The angle changed and the pressure spread across her, nerves sparking, as Alexia ground down hard enough to squeeze the air from her lungs. She gasped, the shock of it sweet and dizzying, and Alexia’s cunt pressed in, slick and insistent, your bodies found a pattern together, legs scissoring, slippery skin catching and sliding, the friction building to a hot, bright ache. Her hands, gripping your waist, left fingerprints in the flesh, and the noise you made was half-wild, unrecognisable to your own ears.

You matched her, pace for pace, finding new angles, searching for the one that would shatter you both.

Alexia’s breathsgrew sharp and ragged, teeth gritted as she rocked harder, her cunt slick against yours, heat gathering where you pressed together. The grind of her, relentless and greedy, sent electric pulses up your belly. Each time your hips met, you felt the edge sharpen, pleasure peaking, receding, then surging again until you could barely keep still.

You tried to say her name but it came out as a shaky half-word, lost in the wet, smacking rhythm of your bodies. The bed creaked under the motion, sweat gathered beneath your back, the sheets hot and tangled, her hair damp where it stuck to your cheek. Your clit throbbed where it caught hers, every contact like the flare of a struck match.

Alexia’s hand slid up, fingers curling around your throat not tight, just enough to pin you there and let you know who had you. Her gaze met yours, eyes dark, and you saw in them the same hunger swallowing you alive. The pressure at your throat pushed a desperate noise out of you, half sob, half moan, and Alexia grinned, teeth sharp and shining. She ground her cunt harder against yours, the slick heat building between your folds until each thrust sparked a new tremor through your core.

“That’s it,” she hissed, voice raw and feral, “rub against me, fuck, you’re so wet for me.” Her pelvis rocked with a rhythm that felt custom fit to your shape, every drag of her clit against yours sending shockwaves through your bones. Her hand squeezed your throat just a little tighter, enough to make your head swim with the promise of it, the way she could take anything from you and you’d thank her for it.

You clawed at her thigh, pulled her closer, needing more friction, more of the slippery, obscene slide where your bodies met. She bent her head to your ear, her breath hot and jagged. “You want me to make you scream?” she whispered, not waiting for an answer her hips stuttered into you, cunt grinding hard and wet and perfectly messy. The slap of your bodies echoed off the walls, every movement louder, sharper, more obscene. 

You tried to answer, but you couldn't with your head spinning with the friction and the press of her hand at your throat. Alexia let out a guttural, helpless laugh, like she couldn’t believe how good it felt, then angled her hips and rubbed her clit right up the length of yours once, twice, and the world flashed white behind your eyes.

“Fuck,” she gasped, hips rolling, “I can feel you, oh god, yes, right there, rub it right—shit, yes, just like that” and her leg flexed under you, grinding her slick, swollen cunt against yours until you were both soaking, the sheets under you hot and slippery. You lost all sense of yourself, everything bracing and bright and slick, your cunt pulsing wild against hers. The sound you made was primal, raw, punching out of your chest. Alexia’s hand tightened on your throat, holding you at the edge, her face inches from yours, her mouth open and desperate. You watched her come apart her eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched, the muscles in her arm trembling with effort as she gripped you, rode you, took from you.

You felt her tense, hips stuttering, then she crashed through, her whole body seizing around the pleasure. The strength in her turned wild and helpless, every thrust uncoordinated and greedy. You matched her, riding the last, frantic waves, tightening your legs until you couldn’t tell where you ended and she began.

When it was done, you both collapsed together, sticky and breathless, the air between your bodies furnace-hot and saturated with sweat. Alexia’s head dropped onto one of your pillows, hair plastered wet to her forehead. The weight of her in your bed was a kind of gift, the only anchor against the mad aftershocks still rolling through you. You both lay there, tangled, sweating, and panting, the echo of your own animal noise hanging in the air.

Alexia’s hand loosened on your throat, drifting up to cradle your breast instead. She nuzzled her nose against your cheek, then pulled back enough to see your face. Her mouth was red and swollen and so were her eyes, rimmed with something raw. She grinned, teeth showing, and then dissolved into a shaky laugh that vibrated down both your bodies.

You would have joined her but you couldn’t catch your breath. Every part of you felt stretched, overused, and so perfectly right that you wanted to laugh and cry at once. You stared up at the ceiling, counting the cracks, unsure if you were still floating or if the bed had finally settled back into the room. You tried to say something clever, but what came out was a groan and a wordless string of vowels.

“Oh my god,” Alexia said. “Did we both just—” She flopped onto her back, both arms flung wide, and let out a noise that was half sob, half laugh, half something else that had no name. “I can’t feel my legs. I think you broke me.”

You rolled over, face pressed into the damp pillow. “You started it,” you managed, voice muffled and stunned.

She rolled onto her side, staring at you. Her eyes were wild but soft. She let the silence build until it was something almost physical, then, “Are you okay?”

You ran a quick scan of your body aching everywhere, hips bruised, one side of your neck hotly stinging. You stretched your arms over your eyes and nodded only managing a hum in response.

Alexia didn’t look convinced by your vague hum. She shifted closer, resting her head on her hand, studying you with an intensity that made it impossible to hide behind your forearms.

“Not just physically,” she said softly. “I mean… are you okay?”

You peeked out from under your arm, meeting her gaze. The wildness in her eyes had mellowed into something warm, almost tentative like she was giving you space to bolt if you wanted to.

“I’m… yeah,” you said after a beat, the words slow, deliberate. “I’m just… processing.”

Her mouth curled into a small, wry smile. “Processing as in ‘what the hell just happened’ or processing as in ‘I regret this’?”

You let your arms drop, turning fully to face her, the sheet slipping to your waist. “Not the second one.”

That earned you a grin, the cocky kind you’d seen on her before, but it softened quickly. “Good,” she murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Because I’m not in the mood to regret anything tonight.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward it was full. Heavy with the knowledge of what you’d just shared, and the possibility of what it meant. Finally, you exhaled a small laugh. “You really can’t feel your legs?”

Her smirk returned, playful now. “I’m not exaggerating. You’re carrying me to breakfast tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you. “We’ll see if you’ve earned it.”

Alexia’s hand found yours under the sheets, fingers lacing without hesitation. “Oh, I think I have,” she said, her voice dropping low, teasing but the gentle squeeze of her hand told you she meant more than just the physical.

You stayed like that for a while, facing each other, the heat of her skin seeping into yours under the tangle of sheets. The adrenaline of earlier had ebbed, leaving behind something softer the quiet hum of shared space, where neither of you felt the need to fill the silence.

Alexia traced idle shapes over the back of your hand with her thumb. At first, you thought it was unconscious, but when you looked down, you saw she was watching the movement too, a faint smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re hard to read,” she murmured eventually, eyes flicking up to yours.

You huffed a laugh. “That’s by design.”

“Mm.” She didn’t push. Instead, she reached over to tug the sheet higher around your shoulders, like she’d decided it wasn’t worth letting you get cold.

Your body was still buzzing in strange ways not from the physical, not entirely, but from the way she seemed to take up so much space in your mind now. It was unsettling and comforting all at once.

“You’re staring,” you said, a little embarrassed at the weight of her gaze.

She grinned. “Can’t help it. You look… different.”

“How?”

“Like you’ve stopped pretending you don’t like me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks gave you away. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” she countered, but there was no bite to it.

Eventually, you shifted closer, resting your forehead against hers, letting your eyes close. Her breathing slowed to match yours, and before you realised it, your body was melting into the mattress, the edges of sleep creeping in.

The last thing you felt was her fingers still tangled with yours, a silent anchor that held even as the room faded to black.

👧🏼

The first thing you noticed when you stirred was the cool patch of sheets beside you.

Your hand reached out before your mind had even caught up, brushing over the empty space where her body had been. No warmth. No weight. No sound of steady breathing.

You sat up slowly, the duvet pooling at your waist, eyes scanning the room as if she might still be there, hiding in plain sight. The clothes you’d both discarded were gone from the floor, hers, at least.

She was gone.

Your chest tightened, not in a dramatic, heartbreak way, but with the heavy, hollow realisation that last night was… last night.

You rubbed your hands over your face, trying to shake the stiffness from your body and the thoughts from your head. It shouldn’t matter, she wasn’t yours, there had been no promises, but you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if leaving without a word was her way of keeping it that way.

It hit harder than you’d expected a low, dull thud somewhere behind your ribs. You sank back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling, replaying the night in fractured snapshots: her laugh, her hands, her breath against your ear. All of it so vivid, so real.

And yet, it was apparently just one night.

You let out a breath, half sigh, half laugh at yourself. “Stupid,” you muttered into the empty room. Stupid for letting her in, stupid for thinking she might stay, stupid for feeling something more than what it clearly was.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, too bright for your mood, and you rolled onto your side, pulling the duvet up like it might shield you from the memory of her leaving. But even as you closed your eyes, the scent of her still lingered on the pillow, making it impossible to pretend she hadn’t been there at all.

You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, still wrapped up in the quiet ache of waking to an empty bed. Then, through the stillness, a soft murmur caught your ear high-pitched, lilting, and unmistakably Aurora.

You frowned. She usually stayed in her room in the mornings, playing with her dolls or lining up her blocks until you came to get her. Pushing the duvet aside, you swung your legs over the bed, pulling on a pair of loose shorts and the baggiest tee you could find.

Padding down the hallway, you pushed her bedroom door open, expecting to see her cross legged on the floor.

Empty.

That’s when you noticed the faint flicker of light spilling into the hallway. You turned toward it, moving quietly, and stopped in the archway to the living room.

The TV was on, its dim glow flickering over the sofa. Aurora was curled up in the corner, her little legs tucked under the blanket… the same blanket that draped over Alexia, who was seated beside her.

Your breath caught.

Alexia’s posture was relaxed, one arm stretched along the back of the couch, her attention fixed on Aurora, who was animatedly explaining, in great detail, the elaborate plot of her cartoon.

“…and that’s Bluey, and she’s a blue heeler, and her sister is Bingo, and”

Alexia nodded along like she’d been waiting her whole life for this exact conversation. “And Bluey’s the main one, right?”

Aurora grinned. “Yes! She’s the big sister! And she’s really, really funny.”

Something in your chest shifted confusion, warmth, maybe a little bit of panic all tangled together. You stayed in the doorway, caught between not wanting to interrupt and not knowing how this had even happened.

Alexia must have felt your eyes on her because she glanced up mid nod, her expression unreadable, your feet felt rooted to the spot, though your heart had definitely gotten the memo to sprint.

Aurora finally noticed you, her face lighting up. “Morning Mama! Alexia’s watching Bluey with me!”

You blinked at her, then at Alexia. “Yeah… I can see that.”

[samkerrworshipper]

have u broke up w your gf?

nope very much so still in a relationship!

she’s been away for work though for two weeks now so i’ve been a bit down in the dumps and am getting sick of facetime lol

[samkerrworshipper]

Mot sure what your going through but I’m sure I speak for all of when I say you’ll get through it 🤍

thankyou to all the anons for all the love over the past weeks <3

quite simply i’m going through a rough period of time and am burnt the fuck out and have been finding it hard to interact on this platform knowing i have no fics to give my viewers or the energy to write any fics which just makes me feel guilty

trying to come back to myself !

[samkerrworshipper]

barca said what’s the point in having a bench when we never rotate our overplayed roster to the point of burning them the fuck out anyways

[samkerrworshipper]

frido to man u was the last thing on my bingo card tbh

[samkerrworshipper]

Hey hope your doing good 🫶

just lonely and exhausted lol

currently sitting in a uber because i simply couldn’t be bothered to get behind a wheel

[samkerrworshipper]

How’s your week been? Hope everything is going good for you :)

i’ve had a really stressful and rough week. feel pretty trash will respond to my asks when i’m not being hammered by my life :)

[samkerrworshipper]

nothing could ever make me like the RFEF. a pack of chauvinistic pigs who have zero respect for women.

[samkerrworshipper]

this is a fucking joke.

world class players sure, but literally at what cost when there's no squad depth?

[samkerrworshipper]

The bolter - Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia didn't expect to run into you five years after you disappeared on her, especially not with a little girl calling you mami, and looking just a little too much like her.

Word count: 13k

Warnings: mentions of bleeding, panic attacks and just angst in general! There's a bit of comfort, too

A/n: so this has been hell (and heaven) to write. If you guys don't like it, I'll just delete it and pretend I didn't spend the whole week writing it hehe.

Your suitcase was lying open on the bed, with clothes spilling out of it, a mix of adult shirts and small girls' dresses.

When you looked at it, you thought the suitcase represented your life. It was messy, unorganised and caught between the children's world and the grown-up one.

You looked at yourself in the hotel's mirror. It wasn't clean; it was, actually, smudged with fingerprints at hip height.

You cursed whoever was responsible for cleaning the mirror, but then realised you knew the culprit who had gotten it dirty to begin with.

Black. That's the colour you hated the most, but the one you were dressed in head to toe. Black shirt tucked into black suit trousers. Your ballet flats were constricting the blood flow to your toes.

The strap of your camera was resting comfortably around your neck, its weight familiar, almost comforting too. You gave the camera a test, making sure it was working.

The flash filled the room. Working perfectly.

You smiled at yourself before taking the camera off your neck and packing it inside its bag, not as carefully as you would have done years ago.

You packed the last items you needed for the event, looking around the room to ensure you hadn't forgotten anything. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you answered it without looking at the number.

"Hello?" you said with a smile, your eyes moving to the little girl sitting in the chair that was way too big for her.

A voice talked through the phone, and your smile turned into a frown.

"What do you mean she can't make it?" you asked, mouth slightly open, the frustration slowly washing over your body.

Isabel looked up at you, her eyes curious, as if she sensed something wrong was happening. You turned around, not wanting her to see you mad.

"I'm sorry? What? She's sick?" you asked. "No, no… I understand, but I really need someone tonight—"

"Okay, yes… okay," you held the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache approaching. You listened to the phone; it was a worker from the babysitting company you had hired for the night.

Your shoulders tensed as the woman told you she had no other babysitter available, and the one who was responsible for taking care of Isabel had come down with the flu.

After the woman was done apologising, you took a deep breath and pressed 'end call', letting out a (quiet) groan.

You looked at the mirror and realised your attempt to shield Isabel from your frustration was useless. She was watching you through the mirror. Smart kid.

"Alright," you said under your breath, your thoughts already a mix of irritation and worry. "Great, that's… great."

You had an event to work at. Photos to take. It was a late event, and you absolutely couldn't take Isabel with you, but you also couldn't leave a four-year-old alone in a hotel room.

Your gaze moved to where Isabel sat again. Her tiny legs were crossed under her as she concentrated on her colouring books now, her tongue poking out as if it was hard to paint between the lines.

Isabel's crayons were in perfect order beside her, on the little table to her left. She was organised, methodical, and graceful, without even trying, as if it came naturally to her.

The sight of Isabel reminded you of her. You pushed that thought aside.

You rubbed your forehead, trying to think of a solution. You needed to stay calm.

You couldn't let this stress you out too much. Not with Isabel right there; she shouldn't feel like she was a problem that needed to be dealt with.

You needed to be good to her. Be calm, be a good mom. Your expression softened, and you walked over, kneeling down beside Isabel.

"Bebel…" you began, your voice tender. "Mami has some exciting news. Do you want to know what it is?"

Isabel's face immediately lit up with excitement, her hazel eyes widening. Cute. She was so very cute. It was hard to stay sad or angry for too long when Isabel could just look at you with her little smile.

"Sí, mami! What news?" she asked eagerly, leaning forward, forgetting about her crayons, about her colouring book, her attention completely on you.

You smiled. She was so happy and enthusiastic all the time, it made you forget about the whole situation. Maybe bringing her to work wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Well," you said playfully, tickling her belly, trying to shift the mood, "have you ever been to a party?"

Isabel blinked, confusion on her face.

"Sí, at abuelita's house," she said, her voice small, unsure of what you were getting at. "Don't you remember, mami?"

You laughed softly. "That was a kid's party… now you're going to an actual party."

You got up and took Isabel in your arms, sitting her on the hotel bed, right by the suitcase's side.

"Well, tonight you're going to your very first grown-up party with Mami," you said happily. "But first, we need to find you a super-pretty dress."

You waited for Isabel's reaction. For her to beam, to clap her hands in excitement, but it didn't come. Of course, it didn't - you should have known your daughter by now.

Isabel's face turned into a frown, one you knew she couldn't have inherited from you, but that still looked like yours. Her bottom lip stuck out, and she placed her hands firmly on her hips, turning her head to look at you as if she were the grown-up.

"But… but mami, I have a bedtime!" she protested, looking at the clock on the wall. "And it's 9:55 already."

You narrowed your eyes, turning around to look at the clock. "It's 8:26, not 9:55."

"That's not true," she said stubbornly.

"Yes, it is."

"No."

You mirrored her and placed your hands on your hips. "You're four, you don't know how to read a clock."

"I can feel the time, mami," Isabel argued, and you just nodded along. Pick your battles, right?

You began rummaging through the suitcase for the perfect dress for Isabel, one you had bought the last time the two of you were in Germany, or was it Andorra? You couldn't remember.

"Forget bedtime, bebé," you said gently, knowing Isabel didn't like it when her routine changed too much, a peculiar trait for a girl who had been travelling from country to country since she was born.

Isabel's lips quivered, but she agreed. "Okay, but I want two bedtime stories."

"Deal," you said, smiling down at her with a wink. "What do you think of this dress here?"

You held a light yellow dress in your hand. It had dark orange drawings of flowers on it. It wasn't exactly a nightdress, but in your almost five years of motherhood, you weren't sure if there were any types of night clothing for kids.

Isabel's eyes sparkled. Really sparkled. It was like all the reluctance was gone the moment she saw the dress.

"I love it, mami! It will match with my Spider-Man shoes."

You blinked at her, studying her face carefully, then looked at the very yellow, non-Spider-Man-at-all dress.

Isabel was smiling at you, her hands in fists, happy.

You smiled. "Oh my god! You are so right, it'll look so pretty!"

She squealed. You took off her pyjamas (of course, she already had her pyjamas on) and put on the dress, letting her put her shoes on by herself (as she requested).

"Mami, tie my shoes?" she asked, her Spider-Man shoes already on her feet.

"Of course, Bebel." You knelt on the floor, tying her shoelaces before getting up again and kissing her forehead.

You moved to the bed, setting Isabel on your lap as you brushed her brunette hair.

You decided to go for a simple braid to keep her hair from falling into her eyes. You didn't know if the event was going to be too warm; some of them were, especially if they had lots of people in them. You didn't want her to sweat too much or be too hot.

"Mami, is this one of the parties you work at?" she asked as you intertwined her hair into a braid.

"Sí, Bebel."

"Why am I going if it's a party-work?"

"Because I don't want to go alone," you explained. "Mami needs company, and I think you'll be the best company ever."

"I will!" The kid turned to you, confidently, and suddenly her braid looked a bit too far to the left.

It didn't matter. You were late and had a taxi to catch.

You arrived at the event, Isabel holding your hand tightly as she looked around, unsure of where she was.

The space was modern, with minimalist decor. It was for a big makeup sponsor, that's all the information you were given.

With one hand on Isabel's and the other holding your camera equipment bag, you made your way through the cluster of people, looking for the person in charge.

You didn't know who the person was or what they looked like, because you had signed the work contract via email while you were still in France, weeks before.

You spotted a woman with a clipboard in hand beside a line of cocktails. She looked bossy enough, so you approached her.

"Hello! Good evening. I'm Y/n, the photographer," you said, smiling, holding your camera bag a bit higher. "We've talked through emails."

The event coordinator's face lit up, and she even held the clipboard more loosely, as if she had been stressed out about you not showing up.

"Y/n! Of course! Nice to meet you!" She extended her hand, and you quickly let go of Isabel's before shaking it.

"I've heard great things about your work, Miss," she said.

Her name was Lucia, if you weren't mistaken. or maybe Luisa. You didn't remember, you just knew it started with a L.

"I believe you have everything you need," Lucia (or Luisa) said, looking at the camera bag. "But if you need anything else, don't be afraid to contact me."

Isabel stood beside you, still in complete silence, tugging at the hem of her dress.

To someone who didn't know Isabel, her face might have looked like someone who was okay, but you knew the girl was anxious. Her little shoulders were tense, and her eyes were darting around the unfamiliar room as if searching for danger.

You placed a hand on Isabel's back, bringing her closer to you, rubbing her back gently, trying to soothe her.

"This is Isabel, my daughter." Isabel managed a small wave toward the coordinator, then pressed her cheek against your side, trying to hide.

"I'm so sorry, the babysitter cancelled last minute, so…" you continued. "I had to bring her along."

"Not a problem at all," the coordinator said, looking at Isabel tenderly. "We have a dedicated kids' area just over there."

She pointed toward a colourful area beyond the bar, right at the corner of the main stage of the event. There were some toys, a trampoline, a slide and a ball pit.

There were a few kids already playing in it. They seemed to be around Isabel's age and having fun.

"It's fully supervised," the woman said, noticing that you were hesitating a bit.

"Just a second," you told Lucia (or Luisa), kneeling to Isabel's eye level. "Hey, Bebel, is it okay if you play with the other kids while Mami works?"

As expected, Isabel shook her head.

You pressed your lips together. "I'll be just there," you pointed at the stage. "I'll check in on you between shots," you promised.

Isabel hesitated, but then spotted a few kids playing with building blocks. She loved building blocks.

"Okay," she whispered.

You smiled at her and kissed her forehead. You nodded at the coordinator. "Thank you."

"No worries, I'm a mom too, I know how hard it gets," she told you before you made your way to the kids' area. You opened the small, pink gate and helped Isabel take off her shoes.

She placed them carefully in the shoe area and turned to you, still anxious. "Go on, princesa," you said softly. "Have fun."

Isabel examined the kids' area for a moment, then walked toward a small circle of children building a block tower. You watched until the little girl talked with a few of the kids.

She looked at you and gave a thumbs-up. You smiled and waved at her. It was time to go to work now.

You had to do a perfect job. Take perfect shots, maybe try to do some networking with other photographers. Money wasn't exactly tight, but for the last five years, you had had to start worrying about it, to make sure Isabel got everything she needed.

You lifted your camera to your eyes and tested a few shots, just to make sure everything was right. You knew it was a makeup event, you just didn't know the number of people that were going to be there.

It was crowded, so crowded that you turned around to the kids' play area, just to make sure Isabel was really there, safe. And she was, Isabel was now sitting next to a blonde boy, playing together.

You breathed in and out, reminding yourself that this was not the first time you had brought Isabel to work with you. Maybe it was the first time at a night event, but that was it.

Tonight was your chance of making good money, enough that you and Isabel could fly to Japan next, if everything went according to plan.

You loved Barcelona dearly. But it was too cruel on your heart. The memories haunted the streets; there wasn't anywhere you could look that didn't remind you of your old life.

You had to focus. Just for tonight. Tomorrow you would go straight to the airport with Isabel. Everything would go as planned.

You just needed to focus. Be efficient and quick.

You had fallen into the rhythm of the event. Isabel was always in the corner of your mind, but you did as promised and went to check on her every 20 minutes, just to make sure she was really okay.

Whenever you went to check on her, she was playing with the same kids. You smiled, but noticed how Isabel wasn't interacting with the kids as much as the other children around her.

She never went to kindergarten and didn't have much contact with her cousins, your sister's kids.

Your heart ached thinking about what your life could have been. A big family was all you had wanted for years, but now it was only you and Isabel. Forever.

The thought didn't hurt you as it did a few years back, but you couldn't say that wound was completely healed.

You didn't mind how lonely it felt at times, but you were starting to see how this lifestyle was beginning to affect Isabel negatively.

You tried to distract your mind with your work, and it was doing the trick.

You were in your element now. Photography was a passion that you couldn't pursue years ago, but now it had become your profession, one you loved fondly.

You preferred working in events and organisations, but those types of freelance jobs were harder to manage as a single mom, so you mainly did family shoots.

When your friend Patricia called weeks ago, telling you she had an amazing opportunity for you, you immediately asked her what it was. You had spent too much time in France and were starting to get bored.

When she said it was in Barcelona, you quickly declined, rolling your eyes as to why she was even suggesting it if she knew about everything that happened.

But then she told you how much you would be paid, and you had no other choice but to accept it.

Isabel was sad to leave Paris. She said she was going to miss the little mice in the streets. You told her there were mice everywhere.

She fought you on that.

You were smiling, talking to people as you took picture after picture.

Each shot made a 'click' sound, although the repetitive noise didn't bother you as much as the high-pitched voices of some people around you.

You tried to ignore them, to focus on the camera, how right it felt in your hands, like it belonged there.

You moved through the crowd, looking for the perfect shot, especially when people weren't looking.

People loved candid photos, even though most of the time, people were just pretending not to see the camera.

You had been working for three hours now, but the event was just beginning.

You started to worry about getting Isabel's sleep schedule all messed up. You didn't want it to happen, but there was nothing you could do now.

Maybe this was what you hated most about motherhood, the feeling of helplessness that came from time to time.

The camera was at your face again, looking for something worth shooting. Looking for the perfect angle, the perfect light, the perfect person.

You moved to the right, the lights from the stage shining bright and making white spots appear in your vision.

You took the camera away and rubbed your eyes, trying to make the spots disappear from your eyelids.

This happened more times than you could count, and each time, you got more frustrated. There was no way to take pictures if you couldn't see.

You blinked. Hard. Once and then a second time. The spots were still there, but they were manageable now.

You were seeing the world through your lens; meticulously, carefully, looking for the perfect shot of the night, one that could go on the event's Instagram, one that represented the makeup brand.

You saw the back of a woman. You weren't sure if she was pretty or not.

She wore a blue dress; her brunette hair had faint blonde highlights.

You took the shot. She looked beautiful against the light, holding a lipstick between her fingers, which fit perfectly.

She was really casual, different from the other people around, as if she wasn't trying to stand out, she just did.

She was turning around, and you were ready to take a picture of her face.

You shot at the same time that your heart stopped, at the same time that you saw the ghost responsible for making the streets of Barcelona so uninhabitable.

Alexia.

The camera slipped out of your hands. It didn't fall to the floor only because the strap was holding it tight around your neck.

You blinked hard again, thinking the white spots in your vision were now making you see distorted faces. But no. There she was, laughing with some people by the bar.

Still so fucking beautiful it hurt to look at her. So different from five years ago, so scarily there.

You were frozen, staring at her, eyes glued. Five years. Five whole years you had been running from this exact moment. Five years since you bolted from Alexia's house and never came back.

Five years since you ran from your wife and hid in different countries, fighting not to be seen, fighting to disappear from other people's memories.

Fighting to disappear from Alexia's memory.

But you couldn't. You never could. There was a daily reminder of Alexia in your life. One you couldn't ignore.

And right now, you couldn't ignore her either.

Your chest felt tight. You couldn't breathe properly, the air was too thin, and the walls of the event seemed to be closing in on you.

All those nights you had wondered what you would do if you saw her again, what you would say, and now you knew - absolutely nothing.

She looked the same. Different, but the same. Her hair was darker, and she had more tattoos, at least from what you could see from a distance.

She still had that confident yet shy way of holding herself that you always found intriguing.

Alexia still made your stomach flip just by existing. She still was the reason why your heart was beating fast, the reason the adrenaline was rushing through your body, begging you to bolt again.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You tried to lift the camera, pretend you were working, but your hands were shaking too much, and the camera suddenly felt like it was made of titanium, too heavy to hold.

You tried anyway, but the photos came out blurry. You kept glancing over at her while trying to hide behind people and columns.

She couldn't see you, absolutely couldn't, but you seemed unable to take your eyes off of her, no matter how scared you were.

This wasn't supposed to happen. You had been so careful. No football events, nothing in Barcelona.

Fuck, it was the first time you had been in Spain for the last few years.

Nothing that you had done till now could have led you back to her. But you took this fucking job. And here she was.

You needed to get out of here. Right now.

Isabel.

You needed to take Isabel and go back to the hotel.

You turned toward the kids' area, walking fast, maybe too fast. The camera was hitting you painfully in the sternum and clavicle. You didn't mind the bruises it would leave.

Someone grabbed you by the arm. You were scared to turn around and see her face, but it was just one of the producers.

"You are Y/n, right? We need some more pictures at the—"

His grip was hard on your arm.

You didn't like it. You looked at where Alexia was a few moments ago, but she wasn't there.

You looked at the trampoline.

You didn't see Isabel.

"Sorry, I—I can't," you told the man, setting your arm free as you walked anxiously to the kids' area.

"Y/n? Wait!" The mand shouted, but you were already gone.

Isabel wasn't on the slide.

She wasn't in the ball pit.

No sign of her at the table where the kids were building that block tower.

Your heart was hammering.

You were feeling sick. Alexia had found her; she had taken her.

But then you heard it.

Isabel's cry.

You would know it from kilometres away.

She was in the corner of the play area, where you hadn't looked yet.

She was standing with one of the staff members, tears streaming down her face, her little shoulders shaking.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and your mom's instinct was suddenly alert to everything: how red her cheeks were, how she clutched her forearm, how loud the music was, and how Alexia was still haunting your mind, here, somewhere, in the same room as Isabel.

"Bebel?" You dropped to your knees in front of her. "What happened, princesa?"

As soon as you approached Isabel, the staff member walked away, mumbling something about needing to go take care of another kid.

"He b-bit me," she whispered, showing you a red bruise on her arm, with marks of a child's teeth. "It hurt, mami."

Anger flashed through you. Someone had hurt Isabel, she was crying and had teeth marks on her skin and—

You looked at the floor below you. There was a shadow, a shadow that wasn't there before.

Isabel was still crying, but she looked up at someone, someone who was behind you.

You knew who it was.

She still wore the same perfume.

You didn't turn around. Couldn't. Your whole body went rigid; and your hand on Isabel's back was solid.

It was as if you didn't move, Alexia wouldn't see you and move on. As if she were the hunter and you and Isabel were the prey.

"Y/n?" You heard her say, completely doubtful, as if she wasn't believing her eyes as much as you weren't believing yours minutes ago.

Her voice. It was still the same.

You didn't know what to expect though. Voices didn't change with time, did they?

You pulled Isabel closer to your body, so her face was almost pressed to you. You turned around so you were between her and Alexia.

You couldn't let her see Isabel, absolutely not.

Alexia's eyes went wide. Her body was frozen, and for a second, it was like she wasn't breathing.

She didn't take her eyes from yours, and for some reason, you couldn't take your eyes from hers either.

Same eyes, same mouth, same nose. Different makeup, different earrings, different clothing. Same Alexia?

Her mouth was hanging open. You could see her brain trying to catch up, trying to think of what to say.

But Isabel sobbed, and Alexia's attention shifted from you to her.

You took a step back, taking Isabel with you. You wanted to run. But you were stone-cold solid.

Your hands were shaking as Alexia looked at you one last time before kneeling in front of your body, next to Isabel.

"Who bit you, pequeña?" Alexia asked softly, in the same tone you always used with Isabel.

Isabel pointed at a blonde boy across the play area without any kind of hesitation. Of course she did, Isabel always told the truth.

"Who, the one in orange?" she asked, and Isabel nodded.

"Diego!" Alexia called out, and the boy came over, head down, pout on his face. Guilty. "Did you bite this little girl?"

The boy was silent, eyes still on the floor. Alexia took his chin in her hand and made him look her in the eye.

"Did you?"

"Perdón, tía Ale," he mumbled.

Tía Alexia. Was this Alba's—

"I'm telling your mom about this," Alexia said sternly. "We don't bite or hurt others, you understand me? Tell the little girl you are sorry."

"Perdón, Isabel," the boy said quickly. Isabel pressed her face to your leg, not looking at him.

"Mami, can we go?" Isabel whispered.

It was so low, barely a whisper, but it was enough for Alexia to hear it.

The word 'Mami' hung in the air as the kids around them played and yelled.

Mami.

You saw Alexia's face change. You saw the exact moment she understood who Isabel was to you, that she wasn't a random kid. That she was your kid.

Fuck. Run.

You scooped Isabel up, trying to manoeuvre her around the camera bag "We're leaving. Bye, Alexia."

Alexia.

It felt foreign to speak her name, to open your mouth just to put your tongue on your palate. A-L-E-X-I-A.

You hadn't said her name out loud much, didn't have a reason to.

"Y/n, wait—" Alexia's voice was urgent, she tried to grab you by the arm. "Is she—"

You were already walking, dodging Alexia and the kids running at your feet. You were fast and quickly exited the kids' area.

Isabel's arms were around your neck, her face buried in your shoulder, she was still crying, and you noticed you hadn't given her any type of comfort for the bite.

You walked through the people, trying to blend so Alexia (who was still very much behind you) would lose you among so many people.

"Y/n!" Alexia called after you, louder now. "Wait! I just want to talk!"

You felt Isabel's head pick up from your shoulder; she was looking at Alexia. You didn't want her to see Alexia. You walked faster, already at the front door of the event.

"Y/n? Mierda," she yelled now, not caring about the people around. "How old is she?"

Isabel held up four fingers (because of course she did), looking Alexia in the eyes before finding home in the crook of your neck.

You could hear Alexia trying to follow, but people kept stopping her. Photographers, executives, or someone wanting a picture.

You didn't look back. There was a line of taxis waiting outside, and you entered the first one you saw, placing a hand on Isabel's head so she wouldn't bump her head while you got in.

You slid into the back seat, practically throwing yourself and Isabel inside.

You quickly told the taxi driver the address of the hotel, your voice shaking.

The man noticed how anxious you were, Isabel continued to cry, so he didn't ask any questions and turned on the engine.

Fast, so very fast. You were sure he was breaking some laws.

Through the back window, you saw Alexia break free from the crowd. You made eye contact with her for exactly three seconds before turning away.

You closed your eyes and held Isabel tighter. "Shh, let me see your arm."

Isabel cried softly, but reached out her arm. The bite mark was there, with some teeth marks missing.

Damn, was Diego old enough now that he had already lost some of his baby teeth?

But Diego didn't matter now.

None of the Putellas did. Only Isabel. Only you and her.

It was going to be okay. She wasn't going to see you anymore. You were sure.

You went back to the hotel room and quickly locked the door. The room was completely unorganised, exactly how you had left it. You hated yourself for the mess you had made.

Hated yourself because Isabel was still crying, and you had a feeling it wasn't from Diego's bite. It was because you were crying too.

"Shh, princesa," you said, sitting on the bed with Isabel on your lap. "It's okay."

"Mami, why did we have to run like that?" she asked, pouting.

"Perdón," you said. "I didn't mean to scare you, sí."

"Mami won't do this again," you promised. "We won't run like that anymore."

Isabel looked you in the eyes before nodding, like she believed every promise you made.

Then she rubbed her eyes. She looked completely tired now.

"Wanna go to bed?" You kissed her forehead, and her little "sí" was all you needed to hear.

You changed her out of her clothes and laid her down on the hotel bed. She was out like a light.

You took a moment to look at her, at her face, how perfect she was, how she had all the features of the woman you once loved.

"Are we wanted by the police?" Isabel asked.

You turned to her, frowning. "Of course not, why do you say that?"

"You haven't opened the curtains," she said matter-of-factly, her words a little messy because she was young. "And we haven't been outside for three weeks."

"It's been a day, Isabel," you told her.

"I wouldn't know," she shrugged. "I haven't seen the sun for so long."

You rolled your eyes and opened one curtain. Isabel happily sat on the cushion by the window and looked out at the world.

She looked happy to see outside. You felt guilty again.

Since you met Alexia, you had been...hiding.

Yesterday was awful for you and Isabel. You were scared that you might find her while walking down the street.

You also knew Alexia, knew how determined she was. You knew she was going to look for you.

That's why you had ordered both breakfast and lunch from room service for you and Isabel, and hadn't let Isabel go to the hotel's pool, even though she wanted to badly.

You couldn't allow Alexia to find you again.

You already knew what would happen if Alexia found out about Isabel.

She would take her from you. And that was something you would never, ever allow.

That's why you were making an escape plan.

Hours later, you had bought two flight tickets to Japan. You had planned to stay in Spain a little longer, but since encountering Alexia, you decided it was best to go .

You had a friend there, another photographer who would let you and Isabel crash at her place until you found a good short-term rental.

The flight was tonight. The suitcases were ready, and Isabel's Spider-Man backpack was packed with snacks and colouring books.

Isabel already knew you guys were going to fly out. She had gotten used to not staying in one place for long, but you saw in her eyes that she didn't like it, that she wanted consistency.

At the moment, you couldn't give it to her. Not yet. But maybe one day, once you were established as a photographer, maybe you would be able to buy an apartment somewhere. Maybe in Canada, Colombia, or Australia.

Who knew? You had learned not to let your roots grow, not to let the place you were or the people around you define you.

You wanted the same for Isabel, though maybe what she needed wasn't the same as what you wanted.

You went to your backpack. It was always the last thing you packed because it was where you kept the most important stuff, like documents.

You placed it to your lap and opened the zipper. You tried to ignore how Isabel seemed to be giving you side-eyes.

You also tried to ignore how she started to bite her nails. You narrowed your eyes at her.

"Isabel," you said in your mom voice, one you rarely used. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

The little girl opened her mouth and closed it, then shook her head, but didn't look at you.

"Isabel María." You used her second name, the one exclusive for trouble. "What did you do?"

The girl was watching the window, as if it were oh so entertaining. Isabel couldn't lie, but you could see right through her.

She didn't answer you.

"Isabel, if you put a frog in my backpack again I'll—" As you began to open the bag, you were met with a frog-less inside.

But you knew something wasn't right.

You searched the backpack until you saw the two passports. They looked normal, until you took a closer look at them.

There was a butterfly drawn on one and a lion on the other.

"No," you whispered, your hands starting to shake as you opened the first passport. Page by page, all of them filled with drawings. Messy kid letters spelling out "BARcELON" and "HoME" in crayon.

Your stomach dropped. The main page, your photo, your information, had a house drawn right over your face, with stick figures outside. Two stick figures… you and her

You couldn't breathe for a second. Trapped. You were fucking trapped in the one place you couldn't stay.

"Isabel, how - why?!" you looked at her, eyes wide, hands gripping the ruined documents tightly. "You know those are important!"

Isabel looked at you, eyes filled with tears, her face in a pout. "Mami, don't yell," she hugged her knees.

You wanted to scream at her, to yell even more.

She had ruined the passports.

The only thing that could get both of you to Japan. Your legs felt weak.

You had to sit down on the bed, passport still in your shaking hands.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

But it was.

You wouldn't be able to take the flight tonight. Hell. You wouldn't be able to take any flights.

You would have to go and apply for two new passports and wait in Spain until the General State Administration would get them ready.

It would take at least some weeks.

Weeks. You would have to stay in Barcelona for weeks until you could leave.

"Isabel," you said, your voice calmer now. "Why didn't you paint in the colouring books mami gave you?"

Isabel peeked from her knees, her cheeks red from crying.

You reminded yourself that she was only four (almost five), that she was just a kid.

"You had already packed them," she said. "A-and I don't wanna go on flights anymore, mami."

"What—"

"I don't wanna move, mami," Isabel said. "I wanna stay here."

"Bebel," you said, getting up and walking to her. "We can't stay here."

"Why?" she asked. "It's warm and there's birds and playgrounds."

"Baby, we can find that anywhere in the world—"

"No, mami!" she said stubbornly. "I wanna stay here in B-Barcelona." Her words were clumsy, like the word Barcelona was too big for her.

"We can't," you told her one more time. "Mami can't stay here, okay?"

"But—"

"No, Bebel," you cut her off, before realizing you were too harsh.

You quickly took her into your arms, letting her head rest on your shoulder.

"Mami is sorry. I promise I'll find us a home, it just won't be here."

"Alexia, where are you going?" someone asked as they tried to grab Alexia's arm.

"Wait, Ale—" Another one said, trying to get Alexia's attention.

Alexia had her fair share of panic attacks before, but right now, in the middle of a crowd that was trying to grab her at any cost, with loud music trying to burst her eardrums and the LED lights blinding her eyes, Alexia was sure she was going to have a full meltdown.

But overstimulation wasn't the problem. The problem was you. You who had been gone for five years, never explaining to Alexia why you had ran away.

You had disappeared from Barcelona and the rest of Spain, Alexia had looked for you everywhere, but you were gone.

And now, here you stood in the middle of the event, dressed all in black, your least favourite colour (or was it still?), with a kid by yourside.

A young girl who had called you mom.

Mami

You were gone. And now you were back in Barcelona with a daughter.

A kid.

Alexia and you always talked about having kids, about having a family. Both of you wanted that a few years back.

You wanted to be a mom; Alexia too. You wanted to carry the baby, Alexia agreed, but after rounds of failed IVF, you decided to try once more, just one last time.

But weeks after the embryo transfer, days after the negative test, you had run away, leaving Alexia with nothing.

She knew you were sad about not being able to carry the baby, that when the last round, the one you were sure would work, didn't, she knew it had destroyed you.

The last thing she remembered was you crying, talking about how much of a failure you felt. But Alexia didn't comfort you, not properly; she couldn't.

She was devastated herself, but had to catch a flight for a game in Madrid.

It was the last time she saw you.

When Alexia came back, three days later, you were gone, as if you had never been in her life. As if Alexia never had a wife.

You took your belongings, clothes, pictures. Everything.

You took your perfume. Alexia barely remembered the scent of it anymore, but sometimes in her dreams she could swear it smelled like lilies.

You left her with nothing, absolutely nothing.

Alexia was left behind with a ghost of a family.; one you had shredded.

She looked for you everywhere. She spent big amounts of money on private investigators, but it was like you had disappeared from the face of the earth.

All she was left with was a message from your mom, telling her you didn't want anything to do with her anymore.

Alexia kept trying.

For a whole year, she searched for you, trying, at least, to sign the divorce papers. But there was no clue to your whereabouts, and your mom refused to say.

Alexia knew all the wrong things she had done, she knew she wasn't a good wife, she wasn't present, but she thought that maybe having a baby would fix whatever was wrong with you two.

But when the rounds and rounds of IVF didn't work, Alexia slowly gave up. And then, you ran away.

But now you were back in Barcelona, working as a photographer.

Alexia remembered you liked photography, but she thought it was just a silly hobby of yours.

You were in your last year of art university when you ran away. She wondered if you ever got your diploma.

And the kid.

Your daughter. Your daughter who looked nothing like you.

Alexia wondered if you had adopted her.

Or maybe she was your niece, your sister's… Gabriela? Or was it Emanuela? Whichever one it was, she remembered they had gotten pregnant months before you ran away.

Maybe it was that?

But no. Alexia knew deep down there was something to it.

It was almost instinctive, when she looked at the little girl, it was like looking at a younger version of herself.

There were too many similarities. The little girl was four years old. It had been five years since you had run away.

It couldn't be it, right? The last round hadn't worked. There was blood. Alexia had found you on the bathroom crying.

You were bleeding, sobbing about how it hadn't worked again.

She had made you a bath. Alexia saw the blood dripping down your thigh.

She held you while you cried, your body shaking against hers, whispering that you were broken, that you couldn't give her what she wanted.

Alexia should have said something then.

Should have told you that you were enough, that you were all she needed. But she was drowning in her own disappointment, and the words never came.

There was something about the little girl... Isabel, that was making Alexia doubt everything. Every single thing.

She only saw the girl for a short amount of time. But her eyes, her cheeks, her chin… It was like looking at a mirror.

"Aren't you going to sleep, amor?" Olga murmured, lying down by Alexia's side, her mouth right in her ear.

It was dark, it was late. Alexia was exhausted.

She had a game next week. She had media day tomorrow afternoon and Olga had told her a few hours ago that she wanted Alexia to go somewhere with her to do something.

Alexia had a life going on. She had a job. She had a family.

She had Olga, her not-official-wife because you hadn't sign the divorce papers.

Alexia wasn't about to throw all of that away because you decided to pop up in Barcelona with a kid that looked too much like her.

It was a coincidence, Alexia was sure.

She felt Olga turning her head down, her cold lips on her skin, she shivered, not from need though.

All she could think about was another pair of lips, warmer ones, ones that used to whisper her name like a prayer.

Ones she had mistreated too many times.

"You're thinking too much tonight," Olga said, she sank her teeth into the little bit of skin she could reach on Alexia's neck."What happened?"

"Nothing, Olga," Alexia said, more dryly than she intended to. "Just thinking about next match."

"You're always thinking about football," Olga said, matching Alexia's dryness.

"I didn't know that was a problem," Alexia murmured, focusing on everything but the woman laying next to her.

Isabel.

You.

"It wasn't," Olga said as she withdrew her warm hand, which had been resting on Alexia's belly, pulling it close to her own body. "But now you can barely talk to me anymore."

Alexia rolled her eyes at the same time she rolled out of bed, pillow in hand. She stumbled on the dresses on the way out of the room.

Olga held herself on her elbows, looking at Alexia with an angry frown on her face. "Where are you going?"

"Sleep on the sofa," Alexia said, waving her free hand off.

"What?" Olga asked confused. "Why?"

"Porque me estás dando dolor de cabeza," Alexia said before leaving the room. [Because you're giving me a headache.]

Alexia didn't sleep that night.

Instead, she pressed a number she hadn't used in a long time.

One she still knew by heart after all these years.

"Hey, Pedro," Alexia said. "No... No, everything is alright, sorry for calling this late but, do you remember Y/n? She's back, she's in Barcelona, I need your help finding her."

Alexia waited for Pedro, her personal investigator, to answer.

"I'll pay you whatever you want," Alexia said, as she started to think the whole situation through.

What if you had run away again?

What if you ran to an airport? You would never step a foot in Barcelona again.

Alexia saw in your eyes how scared you were.

You didn't want to be seen by her, but it happened.

"Yes, Pedro," she said.

"Whatever amount you want. I need you to find her, and... there's a kid, too, name Isabel, four years old, I need you to find them both. They're probably in a hotel, Y/n doesn't have any family here."

"Yeah, I'll transfer the money now," Alexia said. "Thank you, Pedro."

With that, she turned off the phone, laying back on the sofa. It was stiff, very stiff, her back was hurting already.

She couldn't help but wonder where the two of you were.

Were you reading Isabel a bedtime story?

Did you sing to her the way you used to hum while cooking dinner for Alexia?

Did Isabel have your mannerism, or did she have hers?

It didn't take long though, for Alexia to find out.

She was woken up in the morning with a location. She was right, a hotel indeed. Alexia smirked.

She stretched herself before going to her room. Olga was sleeping, her eyes were wet, as if she had spent the whole night crying.

Alexia pressed her lips together. She didn't feel as bad as she thought she would.

She didn't know why. Right now she only cared about how Isabel was crying the night before.

The little girl she barely knew left a mark on her already.

She was going to confront you at the hotel , but she didn't want to do it today.

She knew you were still shaken up from last night. She was going to give you one day.

Alexia wanted to trap you.

That was the only way of keeping someone from bolting.

And that's exactly what she did,

You were having breakfast when the knock came. It was sharp and insistent.

Your spoon clattered against the bowl of yogurt, it splashed across the tiny hotel table and landed on Isabel's dress. But the little girl didn't care, she also seemed confused by the sudden knock.

Isabel looked up from her own food, omelette, her little eyebrows raised. And then, she looked at you, as if you had an answer to what was going on.

You placed a single finger in front of your lips, asking Isabel to be quiet. She smiled and mirrored you, as if it was all a joke. You wished she kept thinking it was all a little game.

Your heart was hammering hard against your ribs.

You couldn't breathe, the exact same feeling that consumed your body two days ago took over again.

You knew. Of course you knew exactly who it was.

You had been waiting for this knock since the moment you saw recognition flash across her face at that event.

Unfortunately, you knew how Alexia was, how determined, how much influence and means she had to get what she wanted.

You just thought that, deep down, luck would be on you and Isabel's side, that maybe, just maybe, your passports would be done faster and you and her would be able to leave Barcelona without seeing Alexia again.

But this wasn't the case. There was no running now, nowhere to hide, no more pretending this moment wouldn't come.

You had played this scene in your head a thousand times over the past few days, hell, over the past few years.

You had nightmares of it. Of Alexia finding out about Isabel and taking her away from you.

In some versions of your nightmares, you were stronger. In some versions, you had the right words ready.

In the real world, though, you were sitting in a tiny hotel room with your pyjamas on, watching your four-year-old daughter eat omelette while your (kind of) ex-wife pounded on the door like she had every right to be there.

Which, you looked at Isabel once again, she had. She had all the right.

More right than you if she were to bring you to court.

"Y/n, I know you're in there." Alexia's voice came through the door, at the same time her voice sounded frustrated, she also sounded calm.

Way too calm. As if she had planned this ahead, as if she had known for some time where you and Isabel were.

As if she was the stronger one, as if she had the right words.

"We need to talk," she said again, after what felt like minutes of silence.

Isabel was a curious kid, she couldn't hear or see anything she didn't understand without asking a zillion questions.

But right now, she was completely quiet, still following your orders.

You stared at the door like Alexia might disappear if you wished hard enough.

You could ignore it. You didn't owe her anything, not legally, not without a DNA test.

You didn't owe her explanations, conversations or the truth that had been eating you alive for five years.

But Isabel was right there, taking the pieces of omelette you had cut and shaping them so it looked like letters.

She was humming softly under her breath, if you paid enough attention, you would know it was a lullaby you used to sing to her when she was younger.

Your daughter. Your baby. The one Alexia didn't know about, couldn't know about, because knowing would destroy everything in your life.

She would take away the only thing that mattered to you. The only thing you couldn't replace.

Another knock, harder this time. "Open the door. Now."

That tone.

That fucking tone like she was still your wife, like she still had the right to demand things from you. Like you hadn't spent years learning how to live without her voice telling you what to do.

Your breathing became even more irregular.

What if she had brought lawyers? You didn't have the money to pay for a good lawyer.

If she wanted to take Isabel from you, she would do it in a matter of seconds.

But there was nowhere to run.

You looked around the room, eyeing each window carefully; you considered escaping through them, but the building was tall, it was too tall to risk jumping.

Nowhere to run. You were trapped.

"Stay there, okay? Keep eating your food," you whispered to Isabel, your voice shaking more than you wanted it to.

Isabel looked up with those eyes - Alexia's eyes. Fuck, why did she have to have Alexia's eyes - and nodded.

You walked to the door on legs that felt like they might give out, legs that seemed to have worn themselves thin after running from Alexia for five years.

Your hands were trembling when you twisted the handle.

You took a deep breath, once, then twice. You fixed your hair, or tried to.

You took another glance at Isabel, she was eating her food, but now she had one of her books there.

She was learning to read properly, she had been obsessed with books lately.

You took another breath before opening the door, just enough to see her standing there.

Alexia was still beautiful, still infuriating... still everything you had run away from.

"What do you want, Alexia?" The words came out defensive and sharp, just like the expression across Alexia's face.

You realized you should have brought armour for this encounter, but right now, your old pyjamas would have to do.

Alexia hesitated.

As if she wasn't really expecting you to answer the door, as if she was getting ready to break the door down herself.

She looked at you up and down, almost as if surprised to see you.

Had she thought that what happened a few nights ago was a dream? A nightmare? You surely had.

You prayed every second that meeting Alexia at that event was actually just a cruel hallucination from your mind.

"I want to talk." She was trying to sound calm but you could see it in her face, desperation, something she never used to show.

The Alexia you remembered from years ago kept everything locked up tight.

She was professional (even when she didn't have to be) and controlled.

This one looked like she might break.You didn't know how to deal with that.

You were the one who usually screamed, who was usually desperate for something she couldn't give.

But right now things had changed, it was like you had some kind of control over her; the control she had held over you throughout your whole relationship.

But still, you wanted to slam the door.

Wanted to pack Isabel up and run again, keep running until you found somewhere Alexia Putellas couldn't follow.

But she was right there, too close, and running hadn't worked the first time anyway.

"Not today," you said, gripping the door handle so tight your knuckles went white. "We can talk another day."

"Now." And there it was, that captain voice, like she was giving orders to her teammates.

You had never played on her team, but she insisted on using it against you.

What infuriated you most was that it worked, it always worked.

You stood there, staring at her.

All that time, all that distance that you set, all that careful rebuilding of yourself, and one look from her and you were right back to being the woman who couldn't say no to the Alexia Putellas.

So you stepped outside, letting the door close behind you, Isabel still inside, still in her own little world that you didn't want Alexia to destroy.

The hallway felt too small suddenly, like the walls were closing in.

The carpet was red, royal red, and you could only think of blood.

There was so much blood the night before you left Alexia, blood from what you thought was a failed insemination,blood that you thought was from another one of your hopeful dreams being ripped away.

But no, that was just your body preparing a little more to receive Isabel.

You just didn't know that back then.

The hallway windows were closed, but you could still hear traffic sounds from the street below.

"You disappeared, Y/n." Alexia said, making you look at her, making you focus on the here and now, not on the past.

"You were fucking gone. No explanation, no goodbye, just a text message from your mom saying you didn't want contact. And now you show up with a daughter?"

Her words hit like a slap to the face.

You had hoped foolishly that maybe she would have forgotten about Isabel. That she was here just for you. But right now, it seemed like she was here just for Isabel.

"You have no idea what happened," you whispered, not sure why.

But that's how it always was between the two of you: she took full control, and you accepted everything she had to give, even if it was anger.

"Then make me understand!" Alexia was frustrated, hurt and angry, all the emotions she used to hide behind a facade were now coming through.

"You didn't give me a chance to understand anything. You just left! We were fucking married... we are married!"

You looked away because looking at her hurt too much.

You felt acid burning in your stomach. You thought that if it got any worse, it would burn your whole body too from the inside out.

You kind of wish that would happen.

You hated how you had practised this conversation a thousand times in your head, but none of that practice had prepared you for how small you would feel, how young, how much like the woman who used to cry on bathroom floors while Alexia was at away games.

"I don't owe you anything anymore." The words came out thick, the same one you had thought about minutes ago.

Your hands were shaking. Your jaw was clenched so tight it hurt. But you held firm because what else was there to do except (try to) look strong?

Alexia huffed, a cruel smirk on her face as if she wasn't believing what you were saying.

You thought she was going to open her mouth to say something, but she didn't. She just stared at you, looking deep into your eyes, and just...stood there.

The silence after that was brutal, it stretched between the two of you.

"You were my wife," Alexia said after a few seconds, and her voice cracked a little, finally showing you how much this seemed to destroy her too.

You were happy about that, you wanted to see her suffer, just a bit.

"You are my wife, Y/n. You never divorced," Alexia continued, anger on her voice. "You vanished while we were trying to have a family."

The word 'family' hit like a slap (again). Because that's what Isabel was, what you had built without her, what Alexia had no right to claim now.

Isabel was your family, no matter where she came from, no matter what sequence of nucleic acids she had in every single one of her cells.

"You don't know anything," you snapped, and the words came out raw, shaking with years of resentment.

"You were never there. You always had a game, always had something more important than me, than us, Alexia."

Your voice was breaking but you couldn't stop.

Five years of silence, and now it was all pouring out. You hated how tears were starting to pool in your eyes, how everything looked too wet, too broken.

"You were so focused on football, on your perfect fucking schedule, your body, your training, your press conferences. You never saw what it was doing to me." You said, taking a step towards her, making her take a step back, her lips were tight, her hands in fists against her expensive Prada coat.

"The meds and the injections that made me sick for weeks. The appointments where I sat alone in waiting rooms," you continued, tears now flowing freely.

"The negative tests I had to process by myself while you were in Madrid or at training or wherever the hell football took you."

Alexia just stood there, frozen, like she had never considered that her absence had consequences.

Alexia was intelligent, but she could also be so dumb at times, it made you want to pluck all of her hairs out.

"I was alone," you whispered. "When I needed you the most, when everything was falling apart, when I had yet another failed IVF, you were gone, again."

Alexia was staring at you like she was seeing you for the first time, really seeing you. Not her polite, beloved, obedient, dream of a wife. But you.

Then her face fixated on the door behind you, where cartoon sounds started to come through. Isabel had probably turned the TV on.

"Who is she, Y/n?" Alexia's voice was quiet now, careful, as if trying not to step on broken glass. "The kid. Who is she?"

You wrapped your arms around your body, letting one rest on your elbow.

"She's my daughter. She's part of my life, and my life doesn't concern you anymore."

Alexia's jaw clenched even more, and you could see her working through it, putting pieces together like she was analysing a game.

"We were going through IVF," she said dangerously. "We were trying to have a child, and then you disappeared, and now you show up with a daughter who looks—"

"She has nothing to do with you," you interrupted, panic rising in your chest. "It was... after I left. A one-night stand."

The lie tasted like metal, like iron on your tongue.

Alexia laughed, but there was no humour in it.

"Don't lie to me, Y/n, yo-you wouldn't have a-a o-one night stand," Alexia said. She wasn't making much sense now, as if the heaviness of the situation had finally caught up to her.

"We were trying for a baby, and the next day you were gone, and the kid is here—"

"I needed to feel like I existed, Alexia!" you interrupted her, lying.

"I needed to feel like I mattered to someone, like I wasn't just waiting around for you to have time for me between matches and media obligations and whatever else was more important."

"So yeah, it happened. Now I have her," you said, exhaling. "I met someone, and Isabel happened, and she's mine and you had nothing to do with it."

But Alexia was shaking her head, stepping closer, and you could see her remembering details from the night at the event.

"She doesn't look like you, though," Alexia said slowly. "Not really. But she looks like... she has my eyes, Y/n."

Your face went cold. "She takes after her father."

"Her eyes. Her mouth." Alexia ignored you, as if you had never spoke the word 'father'.

You already knew everything that Isabel had that was just like Alexia, both physical and personality-wise, you could give Alexia a list, but it seemed like she had already caught it.

"She's mine, isn't she?" Alexia asked carefully, in a low voice.

You didn't know what to say, you were shaking your head, trying to think of something, trying to use words like 'one night stand', and 'drunk' and 'mistake', but they didn't come out, not with the way Alexia was looking so deeply at you.

"Isabel is mine, I know it. I feel it." Alexia stepped closer, just mere centimetres putting you two apart. "Were you pregnant when you ran away?"

You couldn't answer. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't fucking breathe. You couldn't think.

"Did you leave me while you were pregnant with my baby?"

"She's not yours," you said again, but the words sounded hollow even to you, a lie, a devilish lie that Alexia already knew wasn't true.

"If you used my egg, if she's from our IVF, then she's my daughter too." Alexia said coldly. "The doctors said your eggs weren't good, that you wouldn't be able to get pregnant on your own. Isabel is mine, you used my egg."

You could feel your face hot with anger.

You tried to push Alexia away, but she didn't move an inch, she stood there, stone cold as you put all of your body weight, trying to move her shoulder.

You didn't realize you were touching her, you didn't realize you were trying to hurt Alexia, trying to push her away, to scratch her face with your nails.

"She's mine, Y/n," Alexia said, now taking your arms into her hands, keeping you in place, not letting you move.

Her touch was warm and incredibly soft given the situation.

You missed her touch. You wanted her gone.

You wanted freedom, but she was keeping you still, once again, trapping you.

"She's not fucking yours!" You yelled right in Alexia's face, but her expression didn't change, she was composed now, as if the truth was all she needed, as if now she had the upper hand, no matter how much you fought, how much you yelled.

You were trying to get away from her grip, but Alexia didn't let you.

"You're going to hurt yourself," Alexia said. "You're nervous, calm down."

"I'm not," you shouted. "Let me fucking go—"

You heard the door opening behind you.

Alexia let go of your arms as if you were burning her.

You didn't need to turn to see who it was.

You quickly cleaned your eyes of tears and turned around, trying to stay in front of Alexia, trying to shield Isabel from her.

"Mami, you're yelling," Isabel said, completely casual, like she didn't understand what was happening. And she didn't.

Isabel had never seen someone fighting in front of her.

You smiled, trying to fight the new tears that were coming, kneeling in front of her, trying to pull yourself together.

"Cariño, go back and watch your cartoons, okay? Just one more minute."

Isabel looked between you and Alexia with those too-perceptive eyes. "Okay, Mami."

The door clicked shut behind her, and you turned back to face Alexia, who was staring at the spot where Isabel had been like she was seeing a ghost.

"She's my kid," Alexia's voice was raw now. "The IVF worked, and you knew, and you left anyway."

You pressed your back against the door, arms wrapped around yourself.

"You don't get to do this," you whispered. "You don't get to walk in here after five years and decide she's yours."

"Walk in?" she asked, completely indignant.

"I wouldn't need to walk in after five years if I knew about her in the first place! How could you be so fucking selfish, Y/n? Run away and take our daughter from me? She fucking grew up without her other mom? Mierda! What the fuck was wrong with y—"

"She's mine!" The words tore out of you.

Alexia looked at you with wide eyes agian.

"I carried her. I gave birth to her alone in a hospital in Switzerland, and no one spoke my language." You continued, counting on your fingers at each sentence.

"I raised her. Fed her, changed her, stayed up all night when she was sick. Her name is on my documents, my passport, my insurance. She calls me Mami. She's mine."

"I'm not trying to take her—"

"Yes, you are!" you shouted. "That's what happens next, isn't it? You'll get lawyers, tell them I lied, that I stole her from you, that I'm an unfit mother who ran away—"

"Y/n, stop."

But you couldn't stop, the panic was too big, taking up all the space in your chest.

"I can't lose her too, Alexia. I can't." You looked up at her, completely vulnerable. "You don't understand what that would do to me. She's all I have. She's everything I have."

And there it was.

The truth that had been eating you alive for five years.

You had built a whole life around protecting Isabel and you from this moment, and now it was here anyway, and you were falling apart just like you would known you would.

You spent so much time trying to protect Isabel that you forgot to protect yourself.

"Y/n," Alexia said gently, a tone you hadn't heard in years. "Hey, breathe, you aren't breathing."

You closed your eyes, trying to do what she asked, but no air was getting in.

You were going to die, you were sure that was what was happening.

You heart was going to stop soon, Isabel would be motherless and sad and someone needed ot take care of her and--

"Breath, por favor," Alexia begged, but her voice still sounded distance. "Deep breath, come one.'

You tried once again to fill your lungs with oxygen, but it wasn't enough.

Alexia tried to touch your hand, but you flinched, pulling them closer to your body.

"Y/n, please," she said, she was closer to you now, you could feel it. "I'm not taking her from you. She's as much your daughter as she is mine, I-I would never, never take her away from you like that."

Alexia's words were mumbled, you couldn't hear them properly, couldn't understand.

You were shaking now, all of your body, your hands were cold and wet.

You couldn't form any coherent thought, all you could feel was fear and panic.

"Okay," Alexia said, but it was more to herself. "Let-let me just... don't panic, okay?"

You felt her hand very hesitantly wrap around your body, first she touched your forearm, she noticed how you didn't react, so she placed her other hand on your back and gently brought your body to hers.

"Shh, it's okay," she whispered, her chin laying on top of your head.

You let her, you didn't have anything left, no strength, you let her hug you, let her hold you, although it felt foreign.

She rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you hated how it was working, hated how the physical touch was helping ground you.

"I'm not gonna do any harm to you or her," Alexia said, and, if you weren't so out of your mind, you would swear she kissed the top of your head. "Te prometo."

Still, you were shaking, and you noticed Alexia starting to get nervous because you weren't talking, weren't breathing, and hadn't open your eyes yet.

"Do you want some water?" Alexia tried again, looking lost, looking nothing like the usual Alexia.

"Do you wanna get into the room? Do you have water there? I-I don't know what to do, mi amor."

Mi amor.

The old pet name slipped, betrayingly, from Alexia's lips.

She froze, her arms rigid around you

You wanted to fight her, ask how dare she use the pet name on you after making you so miserable for so much time.

But again, your soul had stretched itself thin.

You took a step to the left, Alexia stood where she was.

You wiped your face, drying your tears on your shirt.

"I-I'll go inside," you said, your voice still shaky. "I think there's water, but I don't—"

"Is it okay if I come with you?" she asked, and the gentleness in her voice surprised you.

You didn't want her inside your space, inside the little bubble you had built with Isabel, but you nodded anyway. Because what else could you do?

You opened the door and slipped inside, leaving it cracked open behind you.

If Alexia wanted to follow, she could follow.

You went straight to the mini fridge, hands trembling as you searched through the pre-packaged hotel food and Isabel's strawberry yogurts for a water bottle.

You needed water, needed to breathe, needed to pull yourself back together before Isabel saw how distressed you were.

You didn't look, but you knew Alexia had moved closer to where Isabel was curled up on the small sofa, Scooby Doo playing quietly in the background. Your daughter looked so small suddenly, so young.

"Hola, Isabel," Alexia said softly, like she was approaching a scared animal. "I'm...I'm your mom's friend."

Isabel looked up from the cartoon, blinking those hazel eyes that were too familiar.

She narrowed her eyes in that way that meant she was suspicious of something.

"My mom doesn't have friends."

You had to bite a smile while you drank water, taking one sip, then another, wiping your face one more time before turning around to face them.

And there they were, face to face for the second time, and there was no denying how much they looked alike.

Your heart clenched so tight you thought it might stop beating.

"Well," Alexia said, and she was smiling now, really smiling for the first time since she had saw you. "I'm trying to be her first one."

Isabel studied her with that serious expression she got when adults said things that didn't make sense to her.

Then she looked at you, and you saw the exact moment she decided to be brutally honest.

"You made mami cry." She said protectively.

Alexia wasn't expecting that. Her smile faltered as she looked between Isabel and you. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay, bebé," you interrupted, forcing what had to be the fakest smile in history as you made your way over to them.

You knelt beside the sofa, your hand almost touching Alexia's knee. "mami's just tired."

Isabel stared at you for a long moment . "You're lying."

You dropped your head back and groaned. This child and her complete inability to let anything slide.

Alexia's smile came back, softer now, sadder. You could see that Isabel's bluntness was getting to her.

"Come here, Bebel," you said, getting up from the floor and sitting on the sofa.

Isabel immediately climbed into your lap and curled against you like she could sense you needed her.

You kissed the top of her head, breathing in her scent, the same shampoo she had used since she was a baby.

"Remember what we talked about? About thinking before we say things out loud?"

Isabel nodded against your chest. "But you are lying, Mami. And lying's not nice."

Alexia's smiled. "Your mami's not lying," she said gently. "She is tired. She's been working very hard."

Isabel peeked at Alexia from where she was hiding her face in your chest. "Mami, who is she?"

You and Alexia shared a look over Isabel's head.

Who was Alexia now? Who had she been to you? Who was she after those years? Who was she to Isabel? And who was she going to be?

The questions hung in the air.

"Her name is Alexia," you said finally, running your hands through Isabel's light brown hair. "She plays football."

Isabel peeked at Alexia again. "Football?"

Alexia's face lit up with pride, the way it always did when anyone asked about her career. "Sí, I do. Do you like football?"

Isabel wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. "No. Mami said football's stupid."

You felt your face flush completely red. Of all the things for Isabel to remember perfectly.

Alexia looked up at you, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, she did?"

"Sí," Isabel said solemnly. "She says she hates it."

"Well..." Alexia said, scooting closer to Isabel and, consequently, closer to you. Close enough that you could smell her perfume again. "I'll tell you a secret, okay? Are you good at keeping secrets?"

"Yes," Isabel said at the exact same time you said, "No."

Alexia ignored your answer completely.

"Your mami just hates football because she was never really good at it - ouch!"

You kicked Alexia's shin, not hard, but hard enough to make your point.

For a second you panicked, hoping you hadn't kicked an injured leg.

"Bebé," you said, shifting Isabel's position on your lap so she was looking at you. "Why don't you go to the bathroom and wait for Mami there? We need to brush your teeth, sí?"

Isabel was ready to argue - you could see it in her face - but she saw how serious you looked and nodded. "Okay, Mami."

She climbed down and walked toward the bathroom, her Spider-Man socks making soft sounds on the hardwood floor.

When the bathroom door clicked shut, you took all the courage you had left and said, "We can talk. Tomorrow. Real talk, not... not this."

Alexia blinked like she hadn't expected that. And in reality, she hadn't.

"The hotel restaurant?" you suggested. "Eleven?"

She nodded quickly. "I have training, but—" She stopped herself, and you saw the moment she made the choice. The same choice she should have made five years ago.

"I'll be there," she said firmly, like there was no doubt. "You'll stay here, right? In Barcelona? You won't... go somewhere else with her?"

You sank your nails into your palms, fighting every instinct that told you to run.

You wanted to grab Isabel and disappear again, start over somewhere new.

You had gotten good at running.But you were tired of it. So fucking tired of always looking over your shoulder.

"I'll stay until we sort everything out," you said.

"Good." Alexia's lips were tight, like she was holding back a thousand questions. "I'll see you then."

"Yeah."

You sat there in silence for a moment. From the bathroom came the sound of Isabel singing softly to herself, some song from one of her cartoons.

"Are you okay now?" Alexia asked quietly.

"Not really," you said, and maybe Isabel's bluntness came from you after all. "I don't think I've been okay for a long time."

Alexia's face softened. "I hope... I hope we can both be better soon. All of us."

"Me too."

And for the first time in five years, you weren't lying.

Alexia stood up slowly, like she was reluctant to leave whatever you two - you three - had accidentally created. She looked toward the bathroom where Isabel was still singing, then back at you.

"She's beautiful," she said, decidedly. "I want to get to—"

"I know," you whispered.

"We talk tomorrow," Alexia said, and it sounded like a promise.

"Tomorrow."

She walked to the door, paused with her hand on the handle. "Y/n?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For...for agreeing to talk."

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

After she left, you sat on the sofa for a long time, listening to Isabel brush her teeth and chatter to herself in the mirror.

Your phone buzzed with a text from your one of your sisters asking how the job was going, and you stared at it for a while before deleting it without responding.

How could you explain that your life had turned upside down?

That the woman you had spent five years running from was going to be sitting across from you tomorrow, asking questions you didn't know how to answer?

"Mami!" Isabel called from the bathroom. "I don't know hwo to use the floss thing!"

"Coming, bebé," you called back, pushing yourself up from the sofa.

Tomorrow you would tell Alexia the truth about everything .

Tomorrow you would face the consequences of every choice you had made since the day you left Barcelona with her baby (unknowingly) growing inside you.

But today, you would be taking your daughter to the hotel pool and you would buy her ice cream.

Today, you would savour the last few days with only the two of you.

You knew everything was going to change in a matter of twenty-four hours. You just didn't know how much.

A/n: This is my first time writing something a bit more emotionally complicated, so Im a little nervous to share it. The characters' past and present are pretty messy, and their feelings can be hard to pin down. I hope I did them justice, and I would love to hear what you think.

Tag list: @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics @riyaexee @miaereen@kiwidreamersstuff

[samkerrworshipper]

Yeah <3