lwwife

[lwwife]

Pottery

A quick one shot. Alexia and R in a pottery class. Thank you anon, I don’t know if it was really a prompt but I liked your description 😂

Warnings - smutty not smut 18 wc - 1573

You’re staring. You know you are, but you can’t help it. 

She’s doing it on purpose.

You didn't think it was physically possible to get wet during a pottery class. Well, you weren't sure anyone could get wet during a pottery class, but here you are defying the odds. Sitting in a pair of damp knickers all because of Alexia. 

No, she hadn’t touched you, kissed you, hugged you, talked dirty to you, she hadn’t even looked at you. She was just simply using her hands.

But in your defence, you were just a girl, a girl who was obsessed with her girlfriends hands. 

A girl who clearly couldn’t control her hornyness because her stupidly sexy, smart and pretty girlfriend was fingering clay like she was part of some weird underground sex show somewhere in the red light district for people who were into that kind of thing. 

Maybe you were ‘people’.

You watch as she gently caresses the wet clay, her large hands cupping the moist material as it leisurely spins round on the plate. You watch the way the watery mud sticks to her fingers, seeping into the groves of her knuckles. Your own fingers twitch from muscle memory, memory on how those very same fingers feel on your body. And in your body. 

It’s a fucking pottery class and she makes it look pornagraphic. 

“Amor, you’re doing it again.”

You jump in your stall, like you've been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“What?” You grunt.

“You’re staring.” 

There's no accusation in her voice, she actually sounds amused.

“I’m not.” You close your eyes in frustration when you hear the slight strain in your own voice.

You catch the slight smirk at the curve of her lips. She hasn’t taken her eyes off of her clay, too engrossed with her own art. Though, smut is what you'd call it. Most countries would even call it public indecency. 

“I can feel you staring.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m not. I’m just watching your technique.”

You were never a good liar.

“Hmm. Is that all?” She smiles. She smiles because she knows what she's doing to you. 

“Of course.” You breathe through your nose as you squirm in your seat. 

You train your eyes back to your own mess of clay, it's completely lost whatever shape it had. If you ever had one. The pottery teacher walks by and gives you a pitiful look.

“Are you struggling?” She smiles sympathetically as she approaches you.

‘Yeah, I’m struggling, struggling while I watch my girlfriend finger clay like she’s trying to get it to squirt for her. And I think she might actually do it.’

Is what you want to say.

“Yeah, I just can’t get it to hold.” You huff.

“Oh, your clays looking a little dry. Maybe add some more water, get it a little more moist. Remember, the wetter the better.” She nods encouragingly before she walks off to look at the other students.

You nearly laugh. 

You spot Alexia biting her lip as she holds in her own laugh. Bitch.

“Oh, this is lovely! You’re a natural with your hands. Well done!” The teacher praises Alexia as she walks by.

“Thank you.” The blonde beams with pride. 

You wait until the teacher’s out of earshot.

“Thank you.” You mimic your girlfriend in the most childish way you can muster.

“Hey! What have I done to get that?” She pouts. 

“Nothing, sorry. I’m just a little frustrated.” 

“Why?” She raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Because…” You nod your head towards her clay. Her hands.

She slowly looks down at the clay, she genuinely looks confused. Scrunching her brows as she looks back at you.

“Què?”

Oh god. Maybe she wasn't doing it on purpose. Maybe you’re just a sex crazed maniac that can’t go an hour without making the most innocent of tasks sexual.

“Nothing. Ignore me.” You force a smile. 

You try to put your pent up frustrations into your clay, but you only make the mud look sadder. If that's even possible.

After a couple of minutes of frustrated grunts and a stupid amount of tuts, Alexia has enough.

“Here, let me help. What are you trying to make?” The blonde stands next to your table like a clay making superhero. 

You smile up at her. “A bowl. But I can’t get it right.” You slump your shoulders dramatically. 

The Spaniard rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the smile that pulls at her lips. 

“Let me get it ready for you, then you can take over, sí?”

“Yeah, I can work with that. Thank you, baby” 

You move from your stall to allow Alexia to sit. 

Alexia frowns as she looks at the mess you've made. “She’s right, your clay does need a lot more water. You can’t shape it like this.” 

“One class and you think you’re Michelangalo.” You mumble to yourself. 

“Hmm?” 

“Nothing.” You save yourself as you kiss the side of her cheek.

Alexia begins to mold your clay. You watch as she dips her long fingers into the water bowl, grabbing the small sponge and holds it over your clay, squeezing until water escapes, moistening the grey mud. She repeated the process until the clay turns into a smooth and shiny substance that she can easily mold to her will. 

You’re completely captivated by the way her hands move, how her fingers knead and press into the clay. Pushing and pulling, gripping and thrusting. You shouldn't be too shocked that she’s such a natural. It’s second nature to her, making things move the way she wants. Bending and forcing things to her liking. Like she does with you in the best way.

You’re not just horny now, you’re actually impressed. Impressed and turned on.  

Come on, get a grip of yourself. You can’t be getting this riled up over an innocent task.

But, you don't even notice the way your tongue sweeps at your lips as you catch her veins bulging under her skin. You know the way they feel, the way they tense under your touch. Your eyes travel up from her hands to her biceps, you can see her firm muscles as they slightly flex under her t-shirt. You continue to watch on, staring at her as if she’s your own personal show. Like it's just you and her and not 10 other randoms in the room. Like you paid a front row ticket to that show in Amsterdam. 

The sound of a cupboard door closing brings you back to the present, you take a quick glance around the room, hoping no one notices the utter mess you’ve become. 

But then Alexia makes it just that little bit harder. Because of course she does.

Your breath catches as she gently but firmly slaps the mud with her large palm. You don't even realise you're biting your lip until you feel a slight sting. 

“Oh, come on!” You mumble to yourself.

It shouldn't make you blush, but the sound of the slaps take you right back to yours and Alexia’s activities last night. 

And It really shouldn't make you wetter. But you’re just a girl.

You’re fucked. 

“Okay, I think you’re good to go. It was a bowl you’re making, sí?” Alexia turns to you. 

“W-what?” You blink a few times, staring at the girl who just officially ruined your underwear without even touching you.

Alexia smirks, that all knowing smirk “A bowl, amor. You want to make a bowl, sí?” 

You nod your head, but no words come out.

“Let me just…” 

And that's when you watch Alexia gently push two long thick fingers into your wet clay.

“Oh, my god.” 

Alexia doesn't answer you, she slowly parts her fingers, forcing the clay to open up for her. The sound that comes from her movement is filth, it squelches between her parted fingers, you swear you almost hear a faint moan from the lifeless object. Or maybe that was you. 

“Ale…”

She slowly pulls her fingers out, making sure to curve her digits just right. Spreading the clay like she does this everyday. 

You guess in some ways she kind of does use her fingers that exact same way most days.

You’re well aware your nipples are straining at your shirt now. You look around the room once more as you try to control your breathing, but then Alexia turns to you. A mischievous smile spreads across her face. You notice a small smudge of dry clay sitting on her cheek. A few strands of her hair have fallen out of her bun and she gives you that all knowing look. 

It's a sight to see.

“You okay, cariño?” She smirks.

You nod your head, but once again you're lost for words. You look down at her wet fingers, still dripping from the clay. You can feel your clit twitching, aching to have the same treatment as the clay. 

You watch as her eyes roam your chest, spotting the way your nipples strain. She arches an eyebrow, like she’s proud. Her smirk turns devilish and you feel you cunt clench on nothing. 

“Toilet. I need the toilet.” You blurt out.

And before Alexia can say anything you’re gone. Tripping over stalls you swore wasn't there a second ago, but still apoologising to the inanimate object like a true Brit.

Alexia shakes her head as she chuckles to herself. “I think I like pottery.”

[lwwife]

R is friends with Alexia's trainer, Alexia can't take her eyes off R, R does not feel in shape enough to be there at a class run by their friend with some famous clients present, and couldn't possibly believe Alexia is enthralled by them- while working out.

No pressure! Good luck with the writing! Have fun!

The last thing you wanted to be doing on a Saturday morning was heading in to a workout class, you much preferred to get your exercise in by hiking or exploring new cities, but when your childhood best friend was opening a new fitness study in a trendy Barcelona neighbourhood you had to show up. 

Your friend had worked her ass off, she maintained a very exclusive client list including celebrities and professional athletes and everything in between. You were proud of her to watch her grow her dream into a reality and now that she has a her pwn studio you were always going to show up and be her biggest supporter. 

As you walk into the new studio you are impressed at how it looks full of life and people, as you had only seen it empty, and you smile watching her greet every person with a big smile and hug. When you get a chance to see her you cant help but to laugh and pull her into a hug. 

“Congratulations, I am so proud of you” you whispered into her ear as you squeeze her tight. 

“thank you for coming Y/N, i know this isn’t your normal scene” she says as she pulls back. 

You smile and say “I wouldn't miss this for the world.”

You don’t get a chance to say anything else as she is pulled away with a smile and you move away to get ready to start this class. You take a moment to stand off against a wall and let your eyes roam the crowd. You recognise more than a few famous faces, and you feel way out of your league when you spot the professional athlete. 

As your scanning the room, you catch the eye of a tall blonde athlete, who you are positive is Alexia Putellas. She smiles at you and you can feel the blush rush to your cheeks and when she winks you know the blush is noticeable on your face. Before you can do anything else embarrassing there is announcement to start the class. 

You make sure to put yourself to the back of the class as you were not up to embarrassing yourself in front of a room like this. 

By the end of the 45 minute session you can barley breathe and you know your shirt is covered in sweat. You don’t even want to look in the mirror as you are sure your sweaty hair is every where. You lean back agains the back wall half watching as the other participants start to gather you things and leave, most of then looking like they are barley out of breath. 

You feel her before you hear her but someone comes and stands beside you, her arm brushing yours. 

“hola” she says to you, and when you turn and see Alexia Putellas smiling at you. 

You gape at her for a moment, and squeak out a “hi” feeling the red burn of a blush on your cheeks, but you know it is covered up by the red of your cheeks from working out. 

She chuckles and says “I was hoping to catch you before you left.” 

“You were?” you immediately blurt out to her.

Nodding she says “Yes, when I see something I like I don’t like to let it pass me by.” 

“Me?” you stutter out a response, not quite believing that she would notice.

She smiles and leans in closer and whispers “Si, I noticed you right away and would like to take you out for a post workout smoothie?” 

You have a hard time responding as you can feel the whisper of her breath on your ear. 

When you do not respond she takes a step back and smiles lightly and says “No pressure, I will leave you be though.”

“Wait!” you yell out and place your hand on her forearm to keep her in place. You also notice multiple people looking at you including your friend who is smiling at winks at you. When you turn back to Alexia she is looking at you with a smirk and you smile and say “yes, I would like a smoothie with you”

She smiles brighter and says “should we jog over there together?” 

You gape at her trying to come up with a retort and before you can she bursts out laughing at your expression and says “you’re cute, but I’ll save my running for chasing after you.”

[lwwife]

sugarcoat | a.putellas x reader

your roommate alexia always has something bad to say about all your dates.

— tags: fluff (kinda), sassy!alexia, roommate!alexia, teammates, hidden feelings, kinda a crackfic

a/n: something short, unedited, and very unplanned bahaha i just wanted to put out something short and different and whipped this up while watching the game against real betis! it's just a silly cute social media au and nothing like anything else i've put out but i hope u guys like it still! will get back to working on my other fanfics soon 🍀

— @gozzi-1154 @floppy-03 @daniwhatwhat @sapphicdarlingx @dfwspky @miss-americana22 @lilibach @liloandstitchstan @tikitakatia @beeversblues

[lwwife]

Topless

Alexia Putellas x Reader x BarcaTeammates

You woke to the golden light of the Barcelona sun streaming through the bedroom window, spilling onto the sheets and painting lazy streaks across Alexia’s bare shoulder. She was still sleeping, her breathing soft and even, one arm slung around your waist. You took a second to just look at her, admiring the way the morning softened every sharp edge, how even the most intense captain in the world could look so at peace.

Today was rare—a full day off. No training. No meetings. No press. Just freedom. And better yet, beach plans with your favorite people.

You gently nudged her shoulder. “Lex…”

She groaned lightly, hiding her face in your collarbone. “Five more minutes.”

You laughed. “We’re gonna be late. And if we’re late, Mapi will steal our spot.”

“She can have it,” Alexia muttered, but she was already sitting up, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

---

The drive down the coast was easy. The playlist was on point—mostly Spanish pop, with a few of your favorite songs Alexia had added for you. The city slowly fell away behind you, replaced by cliffs and sparkling water to your right. Alexia drove barefoot, sunglasses on, her hand resting on your thigh like it belonged there.

When you finally pulled into the dusty parking lot by the hidden cove, you already recognized the other cars. Patri’s SUV, Mapi’s Jeep - everyone was already here. You stepped out and immediately felt the warmth of the sand beneath your sandals, the scent of salt and sunscreen carried on the wind.

You grabbed your bag, threw on your sunglasses, and followed the trail down to the beach.

The moment you stepped onto the sand, it felt like a different world. Pina and Jana were already tossing a frisbee, Ingrid and Kika were setting up towels, and Mapi was halfway through building some kind of elaborate sandcastle. Patri was just cracking open a cooler filled with cold drinks, and Esmee waved at you from beneath the shade of an umbrella.

Alexia squeezed your hand as you joined them, and for a moment, everything just felt right. Easy. Sunlight shimmered off the water, and laughter echoed across the cove.

After a quick snack and a lot of sunscreen, someone shouted the obvious: “Water?”

You all charged toward the waves like kids on summer break, splashing and diving into the Mediterranean. The water was crystal clear and just cool enough to be refreshing. Salma dunked Jana almost immediately. Alexia swam up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist, spinning you gently in the water before pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

You felt so light. So free. For a while, there were no matches, no tactics, no cameras. Just you, the sun, the sea, and your friends.

Eventually, tired and wrinkled from the saltwater, you all stumbled back to the towels, laughing and dripping wet. That’s when something… unexpected happened.

Without much fanfare, Mapi unhooked her bikini top and tossed it onto her towel, laying back with a satisfied sigh. A second later, Patri did the same. Then Pina. Salma. Jana.

You blinked. Okay. That was… new.

You weren’t a stranger to nudity—being a footballer, you’d spent enough time in locker rooms to see it all. But this wasn’t like the locker room. This was casual. Public. Almost intimate.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her—Alexia. Sitting up on the towel next to you, untying her bikini top like it was the most normal thing in the world. And for her, it was. For all of them, it seemed.

You weren’t sure what to do with your eyes. You stared back at the water, blinking, a little flushed.

A soft chuckle came from beside you.

“I can feel you overthinking,” Ingrid said, settling back on her towel to your left. She still had her top on.

You looked at her, sheepish. “Is it that obvious?”

She smiled. “You’re not the first. First time I was here, I thought I’d wandered into some nudist retreat.”

You laughed, grateful for her presence. “It’s just… I’m not used to it. At home, we don’t really—do this.”

“I know,” she said warmly. “You’ll get used to it. No one expects you to. It’s just a Spain thing. They sunbathe topless like it’s no big deal.”

You nodded, a bit more reassured. Ingrid laid back, still wearing her top, and you exhaled. At least you weren’t alone.

Still, you couldn’t quite relax. Your thoughts were doing somersaults. Why was this such a big deal? You’d seen all of them in every state of undress before. So why now, lying next to your topless teammates on a beach, was your brain acting like this was the most scandalous thing ever?

You felt a hand touch your shoulder.

Alexia.

She scooted closer, resting her chin on your shoulder. “Everything okay, carino?”

You gave a small nod. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“You never think this much at training.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because at training, I’m not surrounded by topless teammates.”

She laughed then, a full laugh that shook her shoulders. “Oh no,” she said between breaths. “You’re having a crisis about boobs, aren’t you?”

You slapped her arm gently. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not. Okay—maybe a little. But it’s cute. You’ve probably never had this many thoughts about Patri’s boobs before.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hand.

“Hey,” she said, her voice softer now. “You don’t have to do anything. No one’s expecting you to. You’re not Spanish. This isn’t normal for you, and that’s okay. Look—Ingrid’s still wearing hers. So is Esmee. And you can keep yours on too. There’s no rule here.”

You looked at her, grateful.

“Really. Just… relax. You’re allowed to feel out of place. But don’t let it ruin your day, okay?”

You nodded slowly. She kissed your shoulder blade, just over the strap of your bikini, and then lay back down beside you.

For the first time since returning from the water, you let yourself breathe deeply. The sea breeze was soft against your skin. The sound of laughter, waves, and Spanish chatter floated around you like a lullaby. And slowly, your thoughts quieted.

Maybe you didn’t quite understand all the customs here yet. Maybe there would be more moments like this—awkward, confusing, new. But you were learning. You were growing. You were finding your place in this beautiful, sun-drenched world.

And as you turned your head slightly to glance at Alexia, sun-kissed and smiling, you realized: as long as she was by your side, you’d get used to it all eventually.

One sunburn and bikini dilemma at a time.

[lwwife]

I feel like this is the beginning, though I've loved you for a million years

About when your daughter takes a vow of silence and Alexia takes it better than you

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: +1.7k

》 babies cry with an accent [fun fact]: studies suggest that newborns cry with a certain "prosody", to imitate the prevailing intonation patterns of the language they heard while still in the womb

“Diana, go wash your hands, dinner is ready”

The little girl doesn’t dignify you with a verbal answer, her small chin set in a familiar, stubborn line – a clear declaration of intent.

The vow of silence stretches into its third day, the longest one so far in her short life.

The quiet atmosphere of the apartment, filled with the child-approved playlist you put on, is interrupted by the unexpected sound of the bell.

You barely see your daughter sprinting toward the bathroom as you go check the door, wondering who could be at this time of day, unannounced.

“Alexia?”, you can’t hide the surprise in your voice.

The footballer, your fuck buddy for the past couple of months, surely the last person you expected to find behind the door.

Her bright smile dims a little at your slightly panicked reaction, effectively blocking her view of your home’s entrance. The blonde’s gaze drops to the vibrant bouquet she’s tightly holding in her hand.

“Hi”

“What are you doing here?”

“I– ehm, I wanted to surprise you”, she admits shyly, her voice strained to reveal the underlying tension of the situation, “And I can see you’re surprised”

“Sorry, I just–”

The attempt to explain is cut short by a running kid crushing the back of your legs with all the force a four-year-old can manage.

A lot, apparently.

Your hand reaches for the head of your daughter, affectionately ruffling her dark hair as she hides her face behind you when she notices the stranger at the door.

The warmth of her small body pressing against you is grounding, familiar weight bringing you back to the present as the scent of a fruit-flavoured soap fills your senses and anchors you in the moment.

When you finally meet Alexia’s eyes again, she’s looking at you like she’s seeing you for the first time.

In a way, it’s true.

Meeting her in a club a couple of months ago was fun and thrilling, one of the best nights you had in a long time.

Not that you will tell your best friend that, since she had to drag you out to take advantage of Diana sleeping at your mom’s house.

One night with Alexia turns into two, and from there, you lose count pretty easily.

It starts without much thinking, for both of you, as a way to de-stress and drop the responsibilities and the weight you felt on your shoulders. A shared escape from the demands of two very different lives.

It starts as a fun time, but it turns a bit more serious as coffee dates and movie marathons added up to the late-night meetings.

Most of the time, you spend the night at her place, having a couple of days by yourself when Diana is with her father and you don’t have to worry about coming up with a new bedtime story.

Sometimes Alexia drops you off right outside of your apartment’s building, wondering, with a hint of doubt and maybe even disappointment, why you never invited her over.

The answer, small and still silent, peeks out from behind your legs with curious eyes.

“Ale–”

“Sorry, this was a bad idea”, she mutters when she notices Diana tugging at your shirt to get your attention.

“Diana, thank Alexia for the flowers”, you prompt hopefully.

The footballer takes a couple of steps away, stopping suddenly and turning around to hand you the bouquet.

The little girl snatches the flowers before you can even react, burying her nose in the blooms dramatically. A scene that makes both you and Alexia genuinely smile.

The silence vow still unbroken, but it gives you time to come up with a decision.

You shake your head, amused, as your daughter goes for a timid and quick hug, her dark curls brushing against the Catalan’s legs as she drops her short arms around them.

She’s retreating behind you just as fast.

Bending down with a smile, you make sure the kid understands what you ask is completely up to her, “Is it okay if Alexia joins us for dinner?”

Your daughter fixes her eyes on the blonde woman for what feels like the longest 10 seconds of your life, studying her with an intensity that makes you slightly nervous.

Under the pointed gaze, the footballer never looked this shy and unsure. As if your daughter can uncover her biggest secrets and deepest fears.

Diana simply nods, her vibrant eyes fixed on Alexia with a hit of curiosity.

“You have her blessing, I guess that’s all we can get from her since she’s on silent strike”

“What?”, the blonde asks, her head snapping up so quickly she almost gets whiplash.

You don’t miss the smile blooming on her face as she meets your eyes.

“Join us for dinner, I made lasagna”

At the reminder, Diana effectively drags you inside the house, one hand firmly holding your shirt and eagerly gesturing for your guest to come in while still clutching the flowers in the other.

You breathe out in relief when you hear the door closing and the blonde woman following you. The little girl is so impatient to eat that she has added a seat on the table even before you two enter the kitchen.

The dinner is filled with your daughter’s stories, told through rushed waves and expressive glances, even without her uttering a single word. Her small fingers move faster and messily, making you and Alexia try to guess what she’s saying, glaring at you both when you fail to understand her seemingly clear gestures.

The kid is usually really talkative, never backing down from an opportunity to fill your ears with her adventures and ideas. The silent vow had been a welcoming change for the first couple of hours, but it turned alarming after a full day.

At this point you’re just going with the flow.

You’re truly amused by Alexia, who quickly overcomes her initial shock and manages to become the girl’s favorite person in a confusing exchange of hand gestures.

She’s going with the flow too.

“It’s obvious, the green lime dog ate the cookies”

“I don’t know Ale, I think she did”

“Trust me, this definitely means the green lime dog stole the cookies”

They even high five right on your face, teaming up way too soon, as you pretend to fall for their lies.

You can’t hold back a laugh as you watch the usually composed Alexia, a two-time Ballon d’Or winner, throw her hands up in the air, exaggerating a dramatic gasp just as Diana had done, perfectly capturing the little girl’s theatrical story.

A compelling explanation to assure you she hadn't been the one to eat the chocolate treats from the jar she knows she’s not supposed to reach on her own.

After dinner, Diana convinces the captain to join her in the living room’s floor to play with her impressive collection of lion-shaped toys – without even that much of a fight from the older woman. Eager eyes constantly seeking Alexia’s, you sit with them a bit aside, to contribute to their playtime without really interfering.

You clearly notice the kid’s struggle to not speak, a visible effort in her tight lips and the way she holds her tongue, resorting to bursts of laughter and exaggerated lion roars.

She’s showcasing an impressive autocontrol, you have to admit.

“Let me just get her in bed and we can talk”

The Catalan simply nods, a soft smile on her lips as you guide a sleepy Diana toward the bathroom, her head already starting to droop on your shoulder. Your daughter insists on saying goodbye to her new friend, and you don’t fight back, watching as they share a warm hug and, you’re quite sure, some secret whispered words.

When you meet Alexia back in the living room, the kid tucked in without too much of a trouble, you notice she has meticulously put away the toys in the box they came from.

“She’s Diana, she’s four and she’s my daughter”, you state as you drop next to her on the couch.

“I could tell, she’s like a mini version of you”

She doesn’t look angry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before”, the words feel wrong, inadequate to really explain your decision.

She looks hurt, and that’s worse.

“It’s okay, I can understand you wanted to protect her”, she reaches for your hand, “It’s not like I can see you tell me about her as we are having casual sex”

“It hasn’t been casual for a while, for me”, you admit, your gaze softening.

“I came here to ask you out on a proper date”

Well, the night had taken an unexpected turn for both of you.

“She’s my priority, Alexia”, you begin, your voice soft but firm, squeezing her hand when her gaze drops, a shadow of uncertainty crossing your face.

“Of course, I–”

“She’s my priority, but I can’t and I don’t want to deny how much I’d like to go on a proper date with you”

“But you wanted to ask me out before you knew about Diana, I understand if you don’t–”

It’s not the first time Alexia’s laugh fills your home, but you’re pretty sure each one has been better than the previous.

Maybe you’re a bit too scared of the possibility of losing this, losing her already.

“Stop right there, I still want to go on a proper date with you”, she looks pretty frustrated, trying to explain herself while being considerate of your feelings and the situation, “I think I like you even more”

“Are you sure?”

“Diana is a wonderful kid, and I met her just a couple of hours ago during her silent strike”, the blonde says, and you both giggle at the little girl’s antics, the tension in the room easing.

“She’s everything for me, Ale”

“You want to protect her, I respect that”

You’re getting quite emotional, overwhelmed by Alexia’s understanding and your selfish desire to keep her in your life without hurting hers or your feelings in the process.

Or worse, your daughter’s.

“I’m willing to see what happens if you are too, no pressure”

“Alexia, I have a daughter you just find out about”

“Don’t worry, I will win her over too when the time comes”

[lwwife]

Mamá - Alexia Putellas

Summary: The first day as a family of three. Featuring baby Clara.

Word count: 4.7k

This is part of my 1k commemoration blurb! <3

Masterlist

..

The hospital doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and the afternoon sun hit them like a warm welcome home. Alexia had one arm curled protectively around Y/n’s as she walked at a snail’s pace.

The reason why?

She had just given birth to the little baby girl, who was lying on her arms peacefully. 

Clara was a calm newborn, as if she wasn’t that excited to meet the world just yet.

“Careful,” Alexia murmured for the fifth time in two minutes.

“I'm walking,” Y/n muttered, voice hoarse with exhaustion, “not skydiving.”

But Alexia didn’t laugh. She just frowned, holding the car door open and watching as Y/n  all but melted into the seat, her face pinching when her body shifted.

“Mi amor…” Alexia leaned in and kissed her forehead gently, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “You okay?”

“It hurts,” Y/n mumbled, head tipped back against the headrest.

"I'll put Clara in," Alexia whispered, as if the baby might wake from just the words. 

Alexia gently took the baby from Y/n’s arms and walked to the back seat, where the car seat awaited. “Alright, baby girl. Let's do this.”

Clara, of course, didn’t respond. She was completely knocked out, mouth slightly open, little fists curled by her ears.

The tiniest snore escaped her, and Alexia froze, awe and panic hitting her all at once.

“Okay,” she whispered again, more to herself this time. “Okay.”

She bent down, trying to gently manoeuvre Clara into the car seat, but every buckle looked suspicious. One looked like it would strangle her. Another looked like it would crush her ribs. 

Were these designed by engineers or villains? 

”Ale…” Y/n ’s voice was soft, a little slurred. “Do you need help?”

Alexia straightened up immediately, back rigid, almost offended. 

“No! I mean. No, amor. I’ve got it.” She said, “Of course. I'm a mom. Moms know this.”

She turned back to the car seat, staring at the buckles like they might arrange themselves out of respect.

Por favour... she thought. Let me put my daughter in a seat without traumatising all of us.

And then–miraculously–it clicked.

Literally.

The buckle snapped into place, snug and perfect and safe. Clara didn’t even flinch.

Alexia stared at her handiwork for a second, then blinked up at Y/n, wide-eyed. “I did it.”

Y/n gave her the softest smile, eyelids drooping.

“Told you. Mom of the year already.”

Alexia beamed, shutting the door carefully and whispering, “Gracias,” like the baby might bless her in her sleep.

Alexia slid into the driver’s seat, shutting the door with exaggerated care. 

She adjusted the mirror like she was preparing for a rally race, then turned the engine on with a low purr.

And then… nothing.

She just sat there.

Hands on the wheel. Eyes locked on the rearview mirror.

Clara, visible only in the reflection, was still sound asleep, tiny chest rising and falling like the gentlest tide.

Her cheeks were pink and soft, lips parted in the most peaceful little O.

Y/n  cracked one eye open from the passenger seat. “Ale.”

Alexia didn’t move.

“Bebé. Please drive. I need a shower. Like a real one. Standing up. With hot water and dignity.”

Alexia flinched a little, glancing over. “Sí, sí, of course. Sorry. I’m just–”

She looked back at the mirror.

“She’s just... she's so small. What if someone hits us? What if I hit someone? What if the sun is too bright on her eyes?”

Y/n  blinked. “Her eyes are closed, she’s literally sleeping.”

"I know!" Alexia hissed in a whisper-yell. “But what if it…blinds her?”

Y/n let out a tiny, tired laugh. “The sun won’t blind her, you tinted the window, because of this, now please, drive.”

“Okay, I’m driving the car,” Alexia said, putting it in gear.

The car inched forward like it was made of glass.

A few minutes later, they were still crawling through the hospital parking lot.

Alexia was gripping the steering wheel with both hands, eyes flicking between the road and the mirror every three seconds.

“You’re going ten kilometres an hour.”

“It’s a safe ten kilometres.”

“At this rate, Clara will be old enough to drive herself home.”

Alexia exhaled through her nose, tense. “I just... she's so little. And you’re in pain. I-I’m scared.”

Y/n  reached out, hand landing gently on Alexia’s thigh. “You're doing great, mamá.”

Alexia swallowed. Hard. Her jaw tightened.

Then, under her breath, she whispered, “I know this is not the moment because you just gave birth, but I think I’m gonna cry.”

Y/n smiled, eyes already closing again.

“That’s okay. I might too. But please cry at home. In the shower. After me.”

They finally pulled into the driveway, after forty minutes–the hospital was 15 minutes away from their house.

The sun was dipping low and casting a soft orange over the house, especially over the tree house Alexia had already built for Clara.

Before the car had even fully stopped, Y/n was reaching for the handle, ready to launch herself toward the promise of a real shower and clean clothes.

But Alexia practically lunged across the car. “NO! Let me–wait, don’t move!”

Y/n froze. “Alexia–”

“I’ll open the door. Just–just wait, mi amor, por favor.”

“You’re not defusing a bomb, calm down.”

Alexia was already out the door, hurrying around the car like a mom on a mission. She flung open the passenger side with a triumphant look.

"There," she said, slightly breathless. "Now you may exit."

"Thank you," Y/n  deadpanned, dragging herself out with an exaggerated wince.

Before Alexia could stop her again, Y/n  made a beeline for the back seat, reaching for the three bags they had packed.

“No! No, no, no!” Alexia’s voice went up a full octave. “You can’t carry anything heavy, remember? You had a human being ripped out of you yesterday.”

Y/n turned, halfway holding a diaper bag. “Okay, so you plan to carry three bags and our 26-hour-old daughter?”

Alexia straightened her shoulders, clearly insulted by the doubt. “Yes. Obviously.”

Y/n was now standing at the doorstep, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, watching as Alexia approached with the determination of someone carrying the fragilest thing in the world.

Over one shoulder, she had the hospital bag and the diaper bag.

In the crook of her opposite arm, baby Clara was swaddled and sleeping, completely unbothered.

Dangling off two fingers was a small tote with Y/n ’s essentials.

Y/n opens the door wordlessly, stepping aside.

Alexia entered slowly, carefully, like every step might trigger a booby trap.

Her face glistening, jaw clenched, eyes darting between the bags and Clara.

“Mi amor,” Y/n finally said, watching her wife set everything down in a precise, strategic order. “Are you sweating or crying?”

Alexia exhaled. "Both."

“You could’ve just asked me to carry one bag.”

“No,” Alexia said, straightening up with the wild eyes of someone who's been through enough. “You gave birth. You earned this.”

Y/n blinked. “…The right to not carry a bag?”

“The right to not do anything for the rest of your life if you don’t want to.”

Y/n huffed a laugh as Alexia gently shifted Clara into her arms.

Alexia’s whole body relaxes the second their baby is safe against her chest. She pressed a soft kiss to Clara’s head, then to Y/n’s temple.

The house is finally quiet.

The kind of quiet that feels sacred, like no one dares breathe too loudly in case baby Clara wakes up and decides to use her lungs.

Y/n was slouched on the sofa, the baby tucked under her shirt and latched, nursing quietly.

Exhaustion hung heavy in her posture, the weight of new motherhood evident in the way her body sagged and her voice softened when she spoke.

Alexia crouched down in front of her.

“How’s it going? Still hurt?” Alexia asked, her voice full of concern.

“Yes... I feel like she’s not latching properly,” Y/n murmured, her eyes half-lidded as she looked down at the tiny baby nursing in her arms.

Alexia hesitated, then suggested, “We could always try formula–”

“No.” Y/n’s voice was sharp, a little defensive. “I’m breastfeeding. No formula.”

“There’s no shame in it if it’s hurting you, Y/n,” Alexia countered, her tone soft but insistent.

Y/n looked down at their baby, who had an incredible amount of hair already, a soft shade of brunette that looked just like Alexia's.

Her heart ached. “It’s important for her,” she said quietly.

Alexia nodded, understanding the desire to give their baby the best. But her concern didn’t waver.

“It’s important for her to have a mom who isn’t in pain, too.”

Y/n met her gaze, a warning tone creeping into her voice. “Alexia…”

Sighing, Y/n kissed her forehead gently, the exhaustion making her movements slow.

“What if we call a midwife? Someone who specialises in this?”

Y/n looked up at Alexia, a hint of unease in her eyes. “I don’t want someone coming here. She needs time to build her immune system.”

Y/n shifted a little, wincing as the baby continued to nurse, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of Y/n’s shirt. 

She could feel the pain in her body, but there was also something soothing about the way their daughter was close to her, the connection that came with breastfeeding.

Yet, the discomfort still lingered, and she couldn’t ignore it.

Alexia watched her carefully, noticing the tension in Y/n’s shoulders. She hated seeing her in pain, especially when she was trying so hard.

Alexia reached out, her voice soft but filled with concern.

“Amor,” she started, hesitating for a moment, “maybe we can try pumping? That way, she still gets the milk, and you’re not in so much pain.”

Y/n stiffened for a second, the idea swirling in her mind.

She looked down at their daughter, her heart aching at the thought of not breastfeeding in the way she had envisioned.

 “I... I don’t know, Alexia,” she said, voice quiet but heavy. “I just wanted to feel this connection with her, you know? I wanted to do this... like this.”

Alexia’s heart clenched. She understood. 

She had seen how important this moment was to Y/n, the desire to have that bond, that closeness.

But she also knew that Y/n’s well-being mattered too.

“I know, amor,” Alexia said softly, her voice tinged with regret. 

“I’m sorry it’s been harder than we thought. But you don’t have to keep pushing through the pain just to feel that connection. You’ll still be connected to her, yeah?” Alexia continued.

“I’ll think about it,” Y/n whispered, glancing at Alexia, her eyes filled with exhaustion and a little bit of vulnerability. “I just... I just wanted to do it right.”

Alexia let Y/n and Clara have their moment while she went around the house to give it a quick clean.

When Y/n’s water broke two days ago, they hadn’t exactly cared about keeping the house tidy.

Thankfully, Clara’s nursery and the little set-up they had created in their bedroom for the first month of Clara’s life were done, so Alexia only had to worry about vacuuming and laundry.

When she was done upstairs, she went to the kitchen and did the dishes.

When she passed through the living room, she couldn't help but smile at the way Y/n was talking to Clara about how excited she was for the baby girl to meet all the different animals in the world.

After the kitchen was sparkling, Alexia made her way to the sofa again.

She sat on Y/n’s side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and bringing her closer. Clara was all done; now she was just sleeping against her mom.

“Want me to go set up your shower?” Alexia asked, kissing Y/n’s cheek while gently rubbing Clara’s cheek.

Y/n hummed sleepily. “Make it hot, but not so hot I pass out.”

“Sí, mi vida. I got you,” Alexia nodded.

Upstairs, Alexia moved with mechanical precision again. 

She tested the water temperature five times– slightly warm, but not too warm. 

Postpartum rules, she remembered the nurse telling her. She lays out the softest towel they own. Then a robe. Then that pair of Y/n ’s favourite loose cotton boxers

Alexia hesitated before grabbing the postpartum diaper.

Y/n hated them. Declared them a war crime while the midwife made her wear one in order for them to check out. 

But Alexia laid one on the edge of the counter anyway, right next to the perineal spray and the cooling cream. 

She even placed a tiny bar of lavender soap and some wipes down the counter, just to make sure she had everything she needed.

Alexia made her way downstairs and paused in the doorway, heart twisting at the sight.

Y/n was still on the sofa, head tilted back, eyes closed. Clara was curled against her chest, as if she hadn’t moved since Alexia looked at her 5 minutes earlier.

One of Y/n’s hands was cupping Clara’s tiny bottom protectively. The other is slack on the sofa cushion.

Alexia swallowed. Then crossed the room, leaning down to kiss Y/n’s forehead.

“Okay, mamá,” she whispered. “Time to go get your shower. Your dignity. Whatever’s left of your spine.”

Y/n didn’t open her eyes. “You sure you got her?”

Alexia takes Clara as carefully as if she were made of glass “I carried three bags and a whole newborn earlier. I’ve got her.”

Y/n cracked an eye open. “You also sweat-cried through the driveway..

Alexia, already walking away with Clara nestled in her arms, paused and shot a glance over her shoulder.

“Shower, mi amor,” she said with a grin, her tone light and amused.

Y/n groaned softly, pushing herself up from the sofa.

Her body was still sore from everything–postpartum fatigue, the lingering aches of labour–and every movement felt like a chore. 

She muttered under her breath, “I swear, if this is what motherhood is, I’m gonna need a nap every five minutes.”

Alexia paused, turning back to look at Y/n with a soft smile.

“I know it’s tough right now, but I promise you a shower will make it better.”

Y/n tried to shift her weight to stand. Her muscles screamed in protest, and it took every ounce of energy she had just to push herself upright.

Alexia glanced as she heard the sound of Y/n struggling, her expression changing into something more tender.

“Need help?” she asked, already halfway across the room, Clara secure in her arms.

Y/n gave her a look–a mix of exhaustion and sheer stubbornness–that clearly said: Obviously.

Alexia’s smile widened as she walked over, carefully positioning Clara in one arm and reaching out with her free hand to steady Y/n.

“Come on, let’s get you to the shower, yeah? You deserve a break.”

Y/n leaned into her touch, her body grateful for the support, but still managing to roll her eyes a little.

“This isn’t what I imagined when you promised me ‘helping hands,’” she muttered.

"Clara," Y/n muttered through gritted teeth as they went upstairs. “Your mother is doing everything for us right now. Please, at the very least, remain unconscious."

Clara stirred in her sleep, and Alexia kissed her hair. “She’s listening. She’s very polite.”

They make it to the bathroom. Y/n leaned against the doorframe, trying not to cry from the sheer effort of movement.

“Okay,” she said, breathlessly. “Shower time. Thank you.”

Y/n started to close the door, but then Alexia gasped, her hand flying to the door to stop it from shutting.

“Amor, we never close the door!”

Y/n shot her a look over her shoulder.

“Alexia. The next time you have a child tear your vagina open, you can choose your own boundaries. Right now? I need one, please.”

“But–”

“I’m not asking you to sleep in the guest room," Y/n cutted in dryly, sliding the door shut with one hand. “I just need a ten-minute break from being touched, stared at, or milked.”

The door shut gently in Alexia’s mildly offended face.

Alexia stares at it for a second.

Clara moved in her arms again, she yawned softly, then opened her eyes– wide and hazel, just like Alexia’s.

They stared at each other.

“Hi,” Alexia whispers.

Clara blinked.

“Okay, seems like mamá needs her time,” Alexia said, slowly pacing backwards down the hall. “So… it’s just us now.”

Clara didn’t respond. She just stared. With full intensity. Like she’s trying to figure out what Alexia’s whole deal is.

Alexia swallowed. “Hm. I don’t really… know what to do with you yet. We’ve known each other for less than two days, you see.”

Clara blinks again. Still staring.

Alexia nods solemnly. “Same.”

..

Alexia didn’t go far. In fact, she didn't go anywhere.

She paced back and forth in front of the bathroom door. Baby Clara tucked snug against her chest, her tiny nose brushing against Alexia’s collarbone.

The bathroom door remained shut.

Alexia leaned against the wall. She looked down.

Clara’s still wide awake.

And staring.

Again.

“You're so quiet,’ Alexia whispered, brow furrowing. “I thought babies were supposed to cry.”

Clara blinked. Her tiny mouth moved a little. But no sound.

Alexia tilted her head. “Okay, this is weird. I feel like you're judging me.”

“Seriously. You’ve been out of the womb for—" she checks her watch, "twenty-eight hours, and you already have an opinion? About me?"

The baby squinted slightly, like she was trying to focus on Alexia, or like she was trying to psychically assess if Alexia was competent enough to be trusted with her life.

Alexia straightened, suddenly defensive. “Hey. I’m not a stranger, you know. I talked to you every night since we found out you were in mamá’s belly.”

Clara said nothing. Just slowly, judgmentally blinking.

“I sang to you,” Alexia continued, her voice rising slightly. “I read you books. I put my phone speaker on her stomach like this so you would  know my voice! Don’t look at me like I just showed up today, okay?”

The toilet flushed. Water ran in the sink.

Alexia lowers her voice immediately. "Okay, okay, okay. Inside voice. Inside voice, mamí’s gonna get her show now, I think she wants quiet."

Alexia rocked on her heels. Clara stared. Still no crying. No nothing.

“I thought this would be harder,” Alexia whispered. "You’re supposed to scream, right? Be mad? Hungry? That’s what they told me in the classes. But you’re just…”

She exhaled. Her voice gets soft. “You’re just... here. With me, being all calm.” 

Clara blinked.

Then, just once–barely even a movement–her tiny hand shifted. It was not much. But it felt like something.

Alexia grinned

“Okay. I forgive you for judging me. But only because you’re extremely cute.”

When Clara started to fight sleep, Alexia went to their room and gently laid Clara on her bassinet beside their bed, watching as her daughter’s tiny chest rose and fell, her soft breath filling the room. 

The baby’s little hands curl, grasping at the air, and Alexia can't help but stare at her with awe and love, so much love.

Alexia quietly walked back into the hallway, settling against the doorframe with a sigh.

Her mind was still swirling already–how to balance it all, how to care for Y/n, while also caring for Clara, how to... do this.

Then, Y/n ’s voice called from the bathroom, a soft, exhausted whisper. “Ale?”

Alexia didn't hesitate. She knocked gently. “What is it, baby? Do you want me to come in?”

There’s a long pause, and then Y/n ’s voice cracked, just enough to send a sharp pang through Alexia’s chest. “I... I can’t.”

Alexia’s heart races. She pushed the door open slightly. Y/n stood there, the image of postpartum exhaustion. 

Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes wet and glassy, lips pursed into the most heartbreaking pout Alexia has ever seen.

Her body was a patchwork of vulnerability: her belly still soft and swollen, the evidence of the intense labour still visible.

Her eyes flickered down to the pants she was struggling to pull on, the ‘mom’ diaper visible beneath. 

It was raw and real. Alexia just wanted to wrap Y/n in a bubble.

“I can’t dress myself, Alexia," Y/n muttered, a hint of stubbornness breaking through her, but there’s no masking the sadness in her voice.

Alexia steps closer, her hand reaching out but not quite touching. “I’ll help then, sí?”

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears. She sniffled, her shoulders shaking just slightly.

“My whole body hurts.” Her voice cracked as she wiped her eyes, the pain on her face. “I have a life to take care of. I’m leaking, and I have to wear a diaper, Alexia!”

The tears fell freely, as if everything from the last hours had suddenly caught up to her. 

The overwhelming, relentless pain. The vulnerability. The immense responsibility.

Alexia felt a lump form in her throat, and for a moment, she was at a loss for words, watching the woman she loves break down in front of her.

She didn’t know what to say, what to do, how to make it better.

So, instead, Alexia took a small step forward, her arms wrapping gently around Y/n, careful not to press too hard against her sore body.

She hugged her softly.

“Shh,” Alexia whispers, her voice soothing and steady. “It’s okay. I’m right here, mi amor, you can cry,”

Y/n’s sobs were soft but pained as she sank into Alexia’s embrace. “I’m so tired and we’ve just got her home, I-I’m just scared. It’s too much.”

Alexia pressed her cheek to Y/n ’s temple, kissing the top of her head. 

“It is too much, we have a daughter now. You went through labour. It’s a lot to take in, but things will settle, and your body will heal. We just need to be patient, okay?’

Alexia gently guided Y/n into the bedroom, her hands careful as she helped her dress.

She took her time with the soft, soothing motions, her fingers brushing lightly over Y/n’s skin. There’s no rush, no urgency.

When Alexia moved to the bedside table, she retrieved the cream. 

She was preparing for this, had had it ready for days, but she had never imagined applying it like this.

She rubbed the lotion over Y/n’s belly–gentle strokes that linger just a little longer than necessary, like a silent promise that she was there, always.

Y/n ’s breath hitched, the warmth of the cream mixing with Alexia’s touch. It was soothing.

“I’ve got you, bebé”, Alexia whispered, her voice low and soft as she helped Y/n pull the pyjama top over her head. “We’re in this together.”

Y/n ’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, letting the care wash over her, letting herself just breathe in the safety of the moment.

When they finally settled into the bed, Y/n lay back, her body aching, but not so much after the shower. She turned her gaze toward the little bassinet by the bed. 

Clara was peacefully asleep, her tiny hands curled by her face, her chest rising and falling with each soft breath.

Y/n ’s hand drifted to her cheek, the sensation of Clara’s presence more grounding than anything else.

Alexia noticed the way Y/n ’s gaze softened. She stepped closer. “She’s the most beautiful baby ever.”

Y/n didn’t respond right away. Her eyes remain fixed on Clara, and Alexia watched her, watching her become a mother in real time. 

It was overwhelming, beautiful, and fragile all at once.

“She is,”  Y/n  finally whispered. “And it’s not just because we’re her moms. She’s actually perfect. I mean, look at that hair–she already has more than I do.”

Alexia smiled, nodding. “I’m glad she’s not a bald baby.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Why? Already planning her hairdos?”

Alexia’s grin widened. “Yes, actually. I’ve been watching videos on how to do baby hairstyles.”

Y/n stared at her, wide-eyed. “You did?”

“Yes,” Alexia replied confidently. “She’s gonna wear a lot of Barça bows, right, bebita?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Hmm, but what if she grows up to be a Madrid fan?”

Alexia’s smile immediately faltered, her eyes widening in mock horror.

“Don’t joke about that.”

Y/n grinned, enjoying the moment.

“Just saying, you never know. She could be one of those rebellious kids.”

Alexia frowned playfully. “I will disown her. You can raise her then.”

Y/n laughed, but the sound softened as she looked at Clara, her little features relaxed in sleep.

“I love you,” she murmured, her voice low, “Even if you’re talking about disowning our newborn daughter.”

Alexia’s playful frown melted into a soft smile. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Y/n’s forehead.

“I love you more, and I’m sure we don’t need to worry about disowning her, no daughter of mine is gonna wear Madrid colour, I’m sure we’ll manage to steer her in the right direction.”

Then, they just lay there in silence, watching Clara sleep, completely unbothered by anything other than the comfort of her little world. No football rivalries, no pressure, no expectations. 

Just a tiny, peaceful human, curled up and completely unaware of the chaos of the world.

..

Alexia stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. It was dark. She blinks, adjusting to the dim light coming through the window, and then Alexia heard a soft, desperate sound. 

A faint whimper at first, and then, unmistakably, a full-on cry.

Clara.

“Shh, mi amor,” Alexia whispered to herself, her voice barely a murmur as she carefully slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Y/n. She went to Clara’s bassinet, scooping the baby into her arms.

Clara’s cries were louder now, her little face red, her mouth open wide.

“Shh, mama got you, don’t worry,” Alexia cooed softly, her hands instinctively holding Clara close, her movements gentle as she cradled her against her chest.

Y/n stirred softly at the sound, mumbling something, but Alexia didn’t want to wake her–not yet.

She could see the exhaustion in her face, in her limp form against the pillow. 

So, with one last look at Y/n, Alexia stepped out of the room, closing the door as quietly as she could, trying to see if Clara maybe just wanted some attention.

It took only a few minutes for Clara’s cries to become more frantic, and Alexia sighed. 

She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but there was no stopping it. Gently, she nudged Y/n  awake, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Baby, it’s time for her feeding. She's hungry.”

Y/n  groggily turned, her tired eyes blinking as she processed the words.

She grumbled something, too soft for Alexia to understand, and then adjusted herself. 

Alexia helped her sit up, pulling her into a half-sitting position, propping pillows behind her for support.

Clara was immediately quiet as Y/n pulled her close, the baby nestling in, instinctively finding her place.

Alexia stood back for a moment, her heart swelling as she watched Y/n. 

When Clara finished feeding, Alexia gently took the baby back into her arms, guiding her to burp.

The little one was still so small, and Alexia’s fingers gently massaged her back as she leaned her against her shoulder. 

After a few moments, Clara let out a small, satisfying burp, and Alexia smiled, already putting Clara back to her bassinet.

And then she looked at Y/n.

Her wife was already half asleep, her shirt still off, her body tired and heavy.

She didn’t even stir when Alexia gently cleaned her breast from the milk that had dripped.

Alexia’s movements were careful, her touch reverent as she applied the soothing cream to Y/n’s chest.

She couldn’t help but smile softly as she did it—this was her Y/n.

She gently adjusted Y/n’s shirt, pulling it back down over her chest before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Sleep, mi amor,’ Alexia said softly.

The kiss lingered for a moment, and then Alexia returned to bed, slipping into the covers next to Y/n, pulling the blanket over both of them.

“I love you, my girls,” Alexia murmured, her eyes drifting shut.

..

a/n: if you read this far — first of all, ily. second of all, feel free to let me know what you thought!

i love hearing your reactions, fav lines, or just general thoughts 🫶 it really makes my day <3

Tag list: @edensbreeze @silentwolfsstuff, @goodloe-e @mccabeskcc @blaugranafairy @footy-lover264 @the-fandom-ness @wosofavfanfics

[lwwife]

me when i’ve already said huh twice in a conversation and still didn’t hear what was said and have to pretend i listened

[lwwife]

Goddess

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Alexia just can't help herself

WARNINGS: Minor sexual content

Alexia's mind doesn't wander during sex usually.

Why would it?

She's got you right where she wants you, like an angel as you moan out your pleasure.

You're beautiful in this position, perfect like you always are but, still, Alexia's mind wanders.

She's an attentive lover even as her gaze shifts to the bedside table.

It's from IKEA, she's pretty sure. She doesn't actually know. All she knows is you disappeared one day and came home with two flatpacks that you made Alexia build as you sat on the bed and watched tv.

You'd rewarded her with kisses, of course, but you'd also insisted she build them then and there and refused to make dinner until she did.

Your bedside table is cluttered now. There's a lamp that Alexia's never seen you use perched atop it along with your phone charger. All three of your drawers are filled to the brim with your jewellery - rings, bracelets, necklaces.

It's unfair really, Alexia thinks as she thrusts deeper, drawing a loud whine from your perfect lips as you bite at the pillow so the neighbours don't complain again.

It's so unfair that you can so easily switch between gold and silver jewellery. It's unfair that no matter what you wear, you always achieve that ethereal quality like how you always look like you've descended from upon high.

You can close your eyes, dip your hands, gentle and careful like always, into your bedside drawers. You can draw your jewellery out like they're sacred threads on a loom, reverent and awe-filled always.

It doesn't matter what you put on your body.

You have a timeless beauty that Alexia can do nothing but marvel at, in awe of you like always no matter what you're wearing, no matter what you're doing, no matter the time of day.

Marvel at you like she is now, momentarily pulled from her thoughts by you writhing under her, gasping and whining like it's all you can do.

She leans down, kissing your shoulder and hooking her chin over it so her lips can brush against the shell of your ear.

"Are you doing okay, beautiful?"

You whine, a beautiful, broken thing that has pride filling Alexia's chest.

"S-So good," You moan out as Alexia hits that one spot she could find blindfolded.

"Yeah? You feeling good?"

"Y-Yeah."

Alexia draws back, laying another soft, reverent kiss to your shoulder as she thrusts a bit harder into you.

Her mind wanders again, eyes lazily looking over at her bedside table.

Unlike yours, hers is neat.

There's no lamp on the top of it.

Her phone charger is plugged in elsewhere.

It's just a water bottle for her to drink from when she wakes up in the morning.

Her three drawers are practically empty. The bottom one holds her passport usually but that's currently packed away in her travel bag for her next away trip.

The other two are empty usually.

But not today.

They haven't been empty for the past two months actually, no matter what Alexia tells you.

Two things rest there.

Two potentially perfect things.

If Alexia could ever make a decision.

Sometimes she would open up the first ring box and stare, imagining the golden band and the beautiful diamond sparking in the early morning sun as you stretch out in the golden sunlight, sitting out in on the balcony with a coffee made lovingly by Alexia with a book that she'd recommended to you months ago.

But then the second ring box would catch her eye.

She can picture it so easily in her mind.

The silver band snuggly situated on your ring finger, bathed in the silver moonlight. You'd be fresh from your shower, wrapped up snuggly in Alexia's robe. Your head would be thrown back, laughing at whatever Alexia's said.

Both of the rings would look perfect on your finger and that's the problem.

You look perfect in anything. Any clothes. Any jewellery. Any makeup.

With or without it all.

You gasp under her and Alexia gently coaxes you down from your high, careful hands steadying your shaking body as she holds you so tenderly.

"Marry me," She blurts out when you pull away from the lazy kiss you share.

For a moment, Alexia's heart misses a bit, eyes grow wide at her own audacity.

You don't deserve a proposal like this.

You deserve to be wined and dined. You deserve a big speech filled with all the things Alexia loves about. You deserve all the promises Alexia knows how to make.

You don't deserve this even if your post sex glow has Alexia free falling for you, plummeting closer and the closer to the ground just so she can look up into the sky to gaze upon you, to look at you how you were meant to be viewed.

Like a goddess.

You deserve so much more than a post-sex proposal.

"Yes," You whisper against her lips," Do I get to choose my ring now? Or did you want me to wear each of them on different days?"

[lwwife]

Hi!! Love your writing 🥰

I have a request if you can… pregnant reader x Alexia going to birthing classes together… just pure fluff and chaos 😅

-

“Irene said is useful,” Alexia mutters, like she’s just confessed to shoplifting or murder. You don’t even glance over. You’re too busy watching the instructor peel back a velcro flap on a terrifyingly lifelike model pelvis. Inside is a knitted uterus. There’s a knitted baby in it. A knitted baby.

“Irene also said vegan lasagne is ‘actually good’,” you murmur, biting back a smirk. “We don’t listen to Irene.”

Alexia exhales. Not quite a sigh—more like the emotional equivalent of deflating a beach ball. You can feel the tension radiating from her like passive-aggressive heat. She’s tucked into the plastic chair like she’s bracing for turbulence. Her hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, jaw set like she’s in the line-up for a penalty kick rather than surrounded by four couples, two birthing balls, and one very enthusiastic woman named ‘Ma-rree-ahh’. With the rolled r, always.

You lean closer. “She’s going to make us visualise our cervixes. I can feel it. It’s coming. Like a full-body, vaginal TED Talk.”

Alexia doesn’t laugh, but you see the corner of her mouth twitch. A private smile. She only ever gives you those.

“I want coffee,” she says under her breath.

“We’ll get one after. You can emotionally recover over an oat flat white.”

She nods. “Two sugars.”

“Reckless.”

Ma-rree-ahh claps once, sharp and loud, like a P.E. teacher who regrets her life choices. “Today we’re learning about the stages of labour. Partners, this is your time to shine!”

Alexia looks at you. “Why always us?”

“We’re in too deep now,” you whisper back. “We’re too visibly gay. They think we’re trailblazers.”

The laminated sheets come out again. Everything is beige and red and extremely confronting. One of them has a diagram that looks like the cross-section of a ham sandwich in crisis. Alexia squints at it.

“This is not… correct,” she says slowly. “Is like horror film.”

Ma-rree-ahh is now speaking gently, seriously, about the beauty of the body. The magic. The connection. She’s using the word journey too often. The man beside you is crying again. He cried last week too, when they played that video of a water birth and the baby looked like it was emerging from a murky portal of grief.

You lean in. “He’s going to pass out during the actual thing, isn’t he?”

Alexia, deadpan: “I will push him.”

They make you do breathing exercises. ‘Rose and candle’. Inhale like it’s spring. Exhale like your house is on fire. Alexia breathes like she’s been threatened into it.

“It’s weird,” you say. “Thinking it’s coming soon.” You place a hand on your belly. The bump makes your hoodie ride up awkwardly, revealing the elastic waistband of the only trousers you’ve been able to wear for a month. Alexia pulls the hem down gently. Doesn’t say anything. Just presses her thumb into the centre of your palm and holds it there. Like she’s grounding you. Like she’s grounding herself.

You speak again, quietly. “You think we’ll be good at this?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. But… we try.”

That’s the thing about Alexia. No grand declarations. No dramatic speeches. Just a quiet try. The word us always implied.

Now Ma-rree-ahh has pulled out a box labelled LABOUR SIMULATOR. You grab Alexia’s wrist. “Run.”

Her voice is flat. “I cannot run. You are slow now.”

“They’re going to make you pretend to coach me through contractions.”

“I don’t want.”

“I know you don’t want. But you will. Because you love me. And also because I have full control over the Spotify playlist in the car.”

Alexia blinks. “You are manipulative.”

You grin. “And heavily pregnant.”

Somehow, it’s over. Or at least, the worst of it is. You’re released after a demonstration on perineal massage that made a woman in the front row cross herself. The laminated cervix is back in its little A4 pouch. You and Alexia escape into the Barcelona evening like you’ve just been let out of jury duty.

Outside, you loop your arm through hers. She’s warm. Solid. Her thumb finds your palm again.

“You were good in there,” you say, mostly to tease.

She shakes her head. “I was terrible.”

“No, you were quietly supportive. Like a very stoic golden retriever.”

She sighs. “Next week… what is it?”

“Birth positions.”

Alexia frowns. “Positions?”

“Oh yes. You’ll be encouraged to crouch behind me like a backup dancer in a very weird music video.”

She doesn’t reply, but you see it again—that tiny twitch of her mouth.

Quiet. Subtle. Steady. And yours.

“You still want that coffee?” you ask.

Alexia nods. “Please. And cake. For emotional reasons.”

You press a kiss to her shoulder. “You’ve earned it, mamá.”

She groans. “Do not call me that here.”

You smile, already pulling her towards the café. She follows. She always does.

[lwwife]

“I told you it didn’t look right.” Alexia or Leah, IKEA furniture building lol, my fave trope

no instructions II a.putellas

"the ash grey or the charcoal grey?" you questioned with a frown turning around and holding up both pillows as your girlfriend sighed tiredly, knowing too well the question was rhetorical and you already knew which one you wanted.

"whatever you like amor." alexia mumbled as she had done over and over as you'd dragged her around ikea for the last three hours.

if you asked her there was absolutely no difference between the two cushions you had in hand, and they wouldn't even be seen by anyone bit the pair of you anyway considering they were for the bedroom.

not that there was anything wrong with the masses of utterly useless throw cushions already taking up half the bed, but you watched one episode of grand designs and suddenly the 'aura' of the apartment was off and the 'makeover' was on.

"mmm i think the charcoal. ale?" you glanced at her over your shoulder as the footballer only hummed, leaning against the cart with her chin resting on her fist making you smile. tossing four of the ever so slightly darker cushions in you returned to her side.

"te amo." you spoke softly, well aware that shopping was only really enjoyable for one of you and that was not your girlfriend. "te amo." alexia mumbled back with a tired smile as you pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"i think that is everything. we just need to go and find the desk, the outdoor table and four of those chairs we liked in the warehouse, pay for it, somehow fit it in the car, and then i will buy you some lunch grumpy." you teased, your girlfriend exhaling and straightening up, making you chuckle as she took off with the cart and you hurried to catch up.

"mi amor i am not grumpy. i am....eh what did you call it? hangry?"

~

"-and you are sure do not want help? not even from the instructions?" you hinted, waving the small stack of papers around in your hand as alexia firmly shook her head, everything laid out in front of her on the study floor where she was crouched down taking inventory.

"princesa. it is a desk, muy fácil! you are good at the buying, i am good at the building." the blonde flexed her biceps with a smirk making you roll your eyes and fake gag.

"vale! call me if you need me." you bent down to peck her lips, sending her a playful glare as her hand shot out and slapped your ass as you walked off.

"un accidente!" the midfielder grinned twirling a screwdriver around her fingers in an annoyingly attractive way as you hummed and narrowed your eyes at her with a small smile.

"sure it was putellas, sure it was."

an hour or so later you looked up from where you were curled up on the lounge with your book, a smile of amusement forming at hearing yet another thud and a groan.

some colorful language filled the air as you heard your girlfriend yell and curse at another inanimate object for for what felt like the tenth time since she'd commenced her expert building.

"bebé? want some help now?" you called out with a quiet chuckle. "no!" the blonde yelled back and you could hear the obvious scowl of frustration in her voice as you shook your head at her stubbornness and tuned back into your book.

easily another hour and six or so chapters later it was ripped from your hand and the midfielder towered over you with excitement plastered all over her face, loose baby hairs that had fallen out of her ponytail slicked to her forehead with sweat.

"i did it!" she announced proudly, marking your page for you and tossing the book onto the coffee table your feet were propped up on, puffing out her chest. "muy bien amor, and it only took you...two and a half hours! very speedy." you teased making her eyes roll as she held a hand out to help you up.

"watch your mouth." the blonde warned with the accented english you adored dearly, a grin still on your face as you pecked her lips a few times, allowing her to drag you off to the study.

"¡mira!" alexia dropped her hand and wiggled her fingers at the now completed desk, a slight frown curling into your features as you moved closer and inspected it. "que?" your girlfriends hands now dropped to her hips as she scowled at you in annoyance.

"are you sure this is right ale? it doesn't look like the display model." you hummed, ducking down to look at it properly as the blonde scoffed.

"de nada! i spend my day off shopping, building, driving. ni besos, ni atención-" the footballer threw her hands up in protest, frustration boiling over as you hid your amused smile by biting down on your bottom lip.

"okay okay okay! thank you mi vida, my big strong builder." you cooed playfully, craning your neck to kiss her as her head swiveled away from you with a huff and your lips met her sweat dampened cheek instead.

"ale. vamos, give me a kiss." you smiled, poking at her sides as she mumbled something under her breath and refused to meet your gaze.

"you know its very hot that you can build something without the instructions baby." your hands slipped up her tank top, nails scratching at her sides as her eyes dropped down to meet yours, slight pout on your lips as her face visibly softened.

"i can do a lot of things princesa." alexia assured, bad mood seemingly melting away as her grin matched yours, hands finding refuge on your hips as she leaned down to press her mouth to yours.

a content sigh left your lips as her large hands moved around to grip your ass, a quick tap to your thigh all you needed to jump up as she easily caught you, lips not even leaving yours for a second as your legs wrapped around her waist.

walking you backwards the footballers tongue made itself at home in your mouth for a moment before her teeth nipped at your bottom lip, tugging on it teasingly as she sat you down on the desk and pulled on the hem of your shirt wordlessly asking you to take it off.

but before you could even move an inch there was a squeaking and suddenly the desk was giving in, legs concaving as you let out a yell and grabbed out for your girlfriend who yanked you up and off the desk right in time for it to fall completely apart in pieces on the floor.

"alexia! i told you it didn't look right!"

[lwwife]

Wrong Chat Capi! — A. Putellas x Reader

WC: 1.2k

Summary: Alexia makes a small mistake when sending a suggestive text, chaos ensues.

Alexia is not usually reckless.

She's calculated and careful. A team captain and the kind of woman who triple-checks texts before sending them.

But today?

Today she’s feeling herself.

Post-training endorphins. Shower steam is still clinging to her skin. You’d sent her the photo right before she went for her shower. It was innocent, technically, but the way her hoodie hung off your shoulder, your thighs just barely showing beneath it? She'd lost all rational thought.

She opens the photo again and exhales sharply through her nose. The rest of the locker room is loud with laughter, towel snaps and music but all she hears is the blood rushing to her head.

And lower.

You didn’t say much. Just typed out:

“I miss you. Hurry up perezosa!”

Alexia quickly swipes to her camera. Then with her towel low, hips cocked and lips wet from biting them, she snaps a single photo of her: washboard abs, the hard line of her hipbone and her hand gripping the towel’s edge.

Then she types:

“When I get there, I’ll have you standing with your cheek pressed against the window, hands behind your back and begging loud enough that the whole block knows who you belong to. Hoodie stays on.”

Send.

There´s a few seconds of peace and then..

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, ALEXIA!!”

Mapi’s voice cuts through the locker room like a fire alarm and everyone freezes.

Alexia blinks in confusion and checks her screen.

She didn’t send the message to you.

She sent it to Barça Team Group Chat.

All. Twenty. Players.

“No. No no no no no.” Alexia groans. 

“Did she just? She did. Oh my God.” Irene’s already doubled over. 

“Cheek pressed to the window??” Salma gasps. “SHE WROTE THAT??”

“Hoodie stays on?” Ona shrieks. “This is a professional football club!”

Mapi’s on the floor, wheezing. “Capitana. CAPITANA. There are children in this chat!”

Alexia stares down at her phone in horror. Her towel threatens to slip as she scrambles to type.

[Alexia]: WRONG CHAT. DELETE THIS IMMEDIATELY.

[Patri]: She said ‘begging loud enough the block knows.’ I’m calling the mossos.

[Pina]: *gif of someone diving into holy water*

[Aitana]: I can't tell if I'm traumatized or wildly impressed.

Alexia slams her locker shut.

“I’m leaving the country,” she mutters.

“Leaving the planet,” Jana corrects. “Pack your things. Go to mars. I’ll cover for you.”

“The neighbors. THE NEIGHBORS?? Imagine looking out to water your plants and seeing Alexia Putellas, two-time Ballon d´Or Winner doggying someone while standing.” Irene cries out.

Then Patri adds a poll:

Mapi checks all of them.

And then your name lights up on her screen.

[You]: Nice aim, Cap. I mean, I’m flattered. But your team’s gonna need a lot of therapy.

She nearly groans out loud.

[Alexia]: I’m deleting myself.

Just when Alexia thought that it probably couldn't get any worse, it did. 

“I just…” Frido starts, frowning like she's trying to solve a 1000 piece puzzle. 

“I can’t believe she’s into that.” The room goes dead quiet.

“She’s been with you since what? 2019?” Salma says, already spiraling.

“I’ve literally seen her knit in public.”

“She brings muffins to away matches,” Ona blurts.

“Like. With napkins. Real napkins.”

“She once asked me if I needed help carrying my groceries,” Patri says.

“That’s not window sex energy, Alexia!”

Alexia hides her face in her hands.

“She’s the one who made that playlist for when we’re feeling anxious,” Aitana says, horrified. 

“Now I find out she’s out here steam-printing her ass on the glass like a decal?!” She shrieks.

“She taught my little cousin how to make pancakes,” Ingrid adds quietly. 

“And now I know she’s out here getting flipped like one.” She whispers in disbelief.

“I saw her organize your spice rack alphabetically,” Kika says. 

“That’s a woman who makes her bed every morning. That’s a woman who thanks the bus driver. That is not a woman who begs loud enough the block knows.”

“She sent me a TED Talk once,” Irene adds, staring at the wall. 

“About emotional intelligence.”

“She used to be one of us! Now she’s fucking window décor?!” Mapi’s already losing it.

“She offered me a lozenge after I lost my voice!” Ona yells. 

“A LOZENGE, ALEXIA.”

Alexia, still towel-wrapped, mutters, 

“She’s still the same person.”

“NO SHE’S NOT,” Mapi shrieks. 

“SHE HAS SAFE WORD NOW.”

There’s a loud thud as Salma dramatically drops onto a yoga mat. 

“I just remembered she made everyone custom Christmas gift tags. She used calligraphy, bro.”

“She has bookmarks,” Ingrid says.

“Physical bookmarks. She reads with a blanket.”

“She makes soup,” Frido whispers.

“Not from a can.”

“I’ve seen her wear matching pajamas,” Aitana adds.

“With socks. And now she’s being folded like a lawn chair?”

“She’s not just folded. She’s a mountable furniture.” Mapi wheezes, half-coughing.

Alexia doesn’t even fight it now. She just sits there, towel over her face, letting it happen.

Then Patri drops an image into the chat: Alexia, edited into the Titanic scene except instead of Jack and Rose, it’s her gripping the towel and you, face half-hidden, pressed against a fogged-up window with a caption that says: “I’ll never let go… unless it’s your throat.”

Mapi chokes and Pina types like her life depends on it, 

[Pina]: New idea. Barça Media Day, but every player has to answer one question.

Alexia doesn’t even look up. “Don’t.”

“Too late,” she says.

[Pina]: What does hoodie stays on mean to you?

[Aitana]: Someone take her phone. Take all our phones.

Patri strikes again, she sends a fake Google Calendar screenshot, zoomed in on Thursday evening:

🗓️ Event: Hoodie Stays On

🕒 Time: 8:30 PM

🪟 Location: Against the Window

💥 Guests: Alexia + You Ft. The Neighborhood

Alexia sits frozen, towel clutched like it might protect her from divine judgment. She's not moving. She’s not blinking.

“Why are you all like this?” she finally whispers.

“Because you sexted the entire team, Capi!” Mapi throws an arm around her, grinning.

And then comes the kill shot, Jana posts a fake book cover.

Title: Oh Capitana, Mi Capitana

Subtitle: How I Tactical-Fouled My Girlfriend Into A Glass Window

Cover: That cursed abs-and-towel thirst trap, filtered in soft vignette like a budget romance novel. The font was sinister looking with gold foil.

Alexia exhales like she’s aged ten years. 

“I need to go into witness protection.”

No one disagrees.

Later that night, Alexia gets home to find you exactly as she left you. Curled up on the couch, legs bare, the same hoodie hanging off your shoulder like a weaponized memory. 

You're holding your phone, clearly mid-scroll. Clearly reading the group chat.

You glance up, all fake innocence. “So… how was training?”

Alexia drops her bag with a dramatic thud. “I hate everyone.”

You smile. “Happens to the best of us.”

She groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Did you know they made a book cover?”

“I saw.” You pause. “Strong branding, honestly.”

Alexia just stares at you. “I sexted the entire team.”

You nod solemnly. 

She narrows her eyes, steps closer. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

You tilt your head. “You said ‘hoodie stays on.’ That’s iconic. That’s gonna be in the locker room forever.”

Alexia leans over you, hands on either side of your thighs, her presence suddenly a little heavier, darker.

“I should be mortified.”

“You are mortified,” you say, smiling up at her.

She kisses the corner of your mouth. “Yeah, but I still meant every word.”

Your breath hitches.

“Oh?” you ask, voice softer now.

“Still planning to follow through?”

She grins, wicked and unrepentant.

“Window’s clean, right?”

[lwwife]

Fixer Upper — A. Putellas x Reader

"Couples Therapy"

WC: 1.4k

Summary: Alexia´s invited you to attend an impromptu therapy session that´s meant to help bring you closer together, much to your chagrin.

You should’ve known something was off when Alexia insisted on being early.

She’s never early for anything. Not brunch, not birthdays, not even her own surprise party, which she managed to be twenty minutes late for. The only time she runs on schedule is when she’s getting paid for it. So when she’s already dressed, keys in hand, and bouncing on the balls of her feet fifteen minutes before you’re supposed to leave, your internal alarm bells start softly ringing.

“We’re gonna be late,” she says.

You glance at your phone. “It starts in thirty minutes.”

“Exactly. What if there’s paperwork?”

“You hate paperwork.”

She just grins that stupid grin. The one she gets before she does something outrageous and claims it’s romantic. You eye her warily but still let her drag you out the door, because you’re a fool.

The office is in a coworking space downtown. It has exposed brick, too many succulents, and a suspiciously cheerful front desk attendant who offers you organic mints from a jar labeled "for emotional clarity."

The waiting room is... unconventional. No couch, no fidget toys, just scattered bean bags, color-changing LED lights, and a TV screen looping stock footage of couples doing yoga. You sit and wait, but as the seconds pass, you start to feel the creeping edge of concern.

“Is this a tech startup or a therapy office?” you mutter.

“Babe. Chill. It’s probably a modern approach or something.” Alexia’s already opened her complimentary LaCroix.

Before you can ask what that even means, a woman with aggressively symmetrical eyebrows and a t-shirt that says “LOVE IS A JOURNEY, LET US BE YOUR GPS” steps into the room.

“Hi! I’m Maya 😊” she says, the smiley face emoji somehow audible in her tone.

“Thanks for joining our guided couples session. If you’ll follow me, we’ll begin with a light partner diagnostic and then a few reflection prompts in the group circle.”

You blink. “Partner diagnostic?”

Alexia pats your leg. “See? Modern.”

You follow Maya into a room filled with more bean bags, a couple of ring lights, and a half-circle of already-seated couples. You take your seats. You try to stay open-minded and remind yourself that you agreed to this.

“Okay,” Maya says, clapping once.

“Before we begin, just a quick heads-up that we’ll be exploring five core compatibility questions designed to help you reflect and deepen your bond. This is a judgment-free zone, so feel free to be honest and vulnerable. Or silly! We love silly geese here!”

You watch as one couple high-fives. Another is wearing matching sweatshirts that say “Love is a Verb.” You suppress a shudder.

The first prompt comes with no warning.

“So! What’s one habit your partner has that drives you a little bit crazy but is also kind of endearing?”

You look at Alexia. Alexia is already smiling.

“She growls at her phone when she’s annoyed,” she says, without missing a beat.

“Like a little thundercloud trying to send emails.”

You stare. “I do not.”

“She does. It’s like grrrrr, but about as threatening as a pomeranian.”

“I swear to God, Alexia.”

Maya beams. “That’s such a vivid image! Okay, your turn.”

You cross your arms. “She steals my food.”

Alexia gasps, offended. “I protect you from health scares.”

“No, you order some healthy shit, decide that you don't like it, and then eat half my fries.”

“But amor, I love you.. And your fries.”

You glance around and see other couples who are nodding and laughing like this is all very charming. One woman is crying into a man’s shoulder about how she finally feels seen. You’re starting to feel... deeply unwell.

Maya claps again. “Let’s move on to the next reflection. Imagine your partner’s had a hard day. How do you support them?”

Before you can answer, Alexia grips your hands dramatically.

“Babe,” she says. “You’ve had such a long day being mean and scary. Do you want me to run you a bath or hide your laptop?”

“I will destroy every LaCroix in this building.” You hiss under your breath.

“She’s really opening up today.” She turns to the group.

You grind your teeth so hard your jaw pops.

“We love that emotional safety.” Maya nods solemnly.

The third question hits like a sideswipe: “If your relationship were a team sport, what would your roles be?”

Alexia lights up. “Well football of course! I’m still the midfielder. She’s defense. No one gets past her. Or speaks to her. Or makes eye contact.”

“I’m filing for free agency.” You deadpan.

A man across the circle pipes up, “My wife’s the goalie. She blocks all my bad ideas.”

You glance at him. He’s wearing socks with hotdogs on them and a fanny pack. You make a mental note to investigate further.

“Let’s keep the good vibes going,” Maya trills. “If your partner were a dessert, what would they be and why?”

You nearly choke. “How is that therapy?”

Alexia doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s a molten lava cake. Looks intense. Bad for your health. But if you wait it out... gooey on the inside.”

“You’re deranged.” You say as you stare her down.

“I’m romantic.”

You glance around again. One couple is whispering into a shared AirPod. Another has been feeding each other dried mango slices like birds. You feel like you’re trapped in a quack health influencer’s fever dream.

By the time Maya announces the final question, you’re already halfway to existential collapse.

“What’s something your partner doesn’t know you appreciate about them?”

You look at Alexia. And you know you could make a cutting joke. You want to. But instead, your mouth says something soft.

“She makes everything fun. Even when I don’t want it to be.”

Alexia blinks.

You add, “She’s chaos. But she’s mine.”

There’s a collective “awww” from the room. Alexia practically preens.

She says, “I was gonna say your ass. But that works too.”

You rub your eyes with both hands.

Maya beams. “Wonderful reflections, everyone. And just a quick housekeeping note, if you haven’t already, please complete the feedback form in the app so we can send you your 15€ Amazon gift card!”

You freeze.

Your brain hits a wall and reverses.

You glance at Maya. Then at Alexia. Then back at Maya, slower this time.

“Sorry,” you say, like someone testing the edge of a knife. “Did you say... app?”

“MindMatch!” Maya chirps. “Thanks again for being part of our beta testing group. Your responses really help us shape the user experience!”

There’s a faint ringing in your ears. You turn, mechanically, to Alexia.

She is suddenly very interested in the condensation on her LaCroix.

“This,” you say, with the voice of someone holding in a scream, “isn’t therapy.”

“It’s kind of therapy,” she says into her can.

“It’s market research.”

“It’s couples bonding through market research.”

“Alexia.”

She shrugs, not even a little sorry. “We got to talk about our feelings, didn’t we?”

“We got ranked on vulnerability and made to roleplay in front of strangers so someone in a WeWork could optimize user retention.”

“And,” she adds brightly, “we’re getting gift cards.”

“You are a millionaire. Why are you like this?” You ground out.

“I love prizes.”

You squint at her like you’re trying to set her on fire with your eyes. She smiles like she’s already won.

“You tricked me.”

She slides an arm around your waist as you start walking out. “And yet, you said I’m your chaos.”

“I meant that like someone might say that child has a knife.”

She leans on your shoulder. “Still counts.”

You sigh so deeply you feel it in your spine. “I want you to know I’m never trusting you again.”

“Lies.”

“I’m filing for emotional damages.”

“You smiled.”

“Out of shock.”

“You called me your chaos and said I make things fun.”

“I was having a medical episode.”

She stops just outside the building and grins at you. “Come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

You eye her. “I roleplayed a fake meltdown and told strangers about your food theft.”

“And now you’re stronger for it.”

“I hope your next smoothie explodes.”

She’s still grinning. “Wanna get dinner? I’ll let you order fries.”

“You’ll steal them.”

“Just a few. For bonding.”

You shake your head.

And you really do hate it, how easily she wins. How quickly she turns a disaster into something weirdly warm. You sigh again.

But your mouth betrays you and twitches up at the corners.

Because she may have lured you into a glorified dating app workshop disguised as therapy, and you may never recover from the secondhand embarrassment of being called “a thundercloud with trust issues” in public, but she’s yours.

And you’re hers.

And yes, she’s chaos.

But somehow, you're a molten lava cake.

And unfortunately?

She’s got a spoon.

[lwwife]

growing pains

how does your relationship change, years down the line, with two kids in the picture? (angst + lotttt of fluff. like, 16k of it.)

When it’s right, it’s right. 

That’s something you believed in and always had done. If something feels right, let it happen. Don’t fight it. It led you down many paths, of which were almost always successful. 

Your favourite path, however, was how right it felt when you sat across from Alexia on the first date. How easy it was to laugh and joke with her, to have meaningful conversations about the past, the present, and the future. How quick you decided she was the one for you; in both your relationship, and in parenthood. Coming to the decision of having children with her was like breathing and blinking, it was natural for you. You didn’t want anyone else, didn’t believe there was another person in the world that you’d want to navigate the highs and lows with. 

No matter what happened, no matter how hard it got, not a single part of you doubted you wouldn’t get through it together.

That didn’t mean the first blip didn’t hurt any less, didn’t make you panic or overthink everything any less. The first one might have been the scariest to get through, simply because of the unfamiliarity and unknown of it. And thankfully, it wasn’t anybody’s fault, it was a combination of many things that built up continuously until it all erupted like a volcano. But realising that and accepting that in the moment was an impossible task when it felt like the world was ending and the one person meant to be on your side no matter what was fighting against you.

Your first child, Anaís, didn’t adjust well to moving into her own room without her two parents, like any baby did. Some adapted quicker than others, whilst ones like Anaís just couldn’t bear it. Her reaction of screaming and crying, exerting herself and dropping into a cycle of over-exhaustion whilst being too unsettled to sleep was one of the hardest things you had ever witnessed. The same went for Alexia too.

However, at the one moment you should have been there for each other and collectively there for your daughter, your love got in the way. It sounded backwards, but it was the truth. You both cared for the six month old immeasurably, and that led to your solutions causing you to clash in figuring out what was best for the shrieking baby that just could not settle.

“She won’t stop crying, I’m not just going to ignore her!” 

Alexia's argument was valid, of course it was. Self-soothing was apparently something important to learn in hand with this adjustment for Anaís, the only thing was that it went against every parental instinct in existence, and Alexia just couldn’t handle it. 

You couldn’t either, and she would have recognised that if she took a second to step back and think rationally about the situation you found yourselves. However, all rational thinking had flown out the window for you both, her particularly, because there was no rational thinking to be done when your child was screaming like she was and igniting every ounce of concern either of you had to give.

“We’re not ignoring her, I’ve told you this. It’s an important step, Ale. We’re right here, if there’s somethi-”

“There is something wrong with her! Can’t you hear her?” You huffed and buried your head in your hands where you sat on the edge of the bed, baby monitor beside you with the brunette pacing back and forth in front of you. 

“Stop. Of course I can hear her. This isn’t easy for me either, stop putting the blame on me.” 

You were seconds away from getting up and walking out the room to avoid her misplaced anger. With every shout from her, every exclamation, your emotional stamina was wearing thin; initially you understood where it was coming from, a place of love and fear, it was natural. But each time she raised her voice and grumbled under her breath, you were growing irritated with her at the immature display of emotion. 

The sounds of Anaís’ discomfort was unbearable – every scream made your skin crawl and your heart clench excruciatingly. In situations like this, where you were on the edge of a nervous breakdown, Alexia would be the first person you’d go to. Actually, nevermind that, she would already be there before you reached the edge. She’d be there with open arms and endless words of reassurances, ready to remind you that you weren’t losing your mind and things were solvable. 

Without her there to tell you all that, things didn’t seem so simple and solvable like they usually did. Everything just seemed so much worse. You felt lost without her on your team. 

“I’m not putting the blame on you.” She grumbled, leaning back against the wall by the door and letting out a disapproving sigh that grated at you. A minute or two passed by of silence, the only sounds being Anaís’ whimpers and cries that never ceased. “I’m tired of this, it’s unfair. I’m going in.”

You had to grab onto her hand before she could swing the door open in her aggression, keeping a tight grip when she tried to shake it off.

“Don’t go against me on this, Alexia. It’s no easier for you than it is for me, please don’t rebuttal against it.” You half-warned, half-begged. Only for her to scoff in your face.

“No, I am her parent too, I get to make important decisions too. And I am deciding that this is too much for my daughter.”

She swiped her wrist out of your grasp and stormed out the room, reaching Anaís’ nursery in four long strides and rushing in like a firefighter. After watching her go and hearing what she had to say, you slammed the bedroom door shut behind her. 

At first, your blood boiled at the sheer amount of audacity she had to say ‘her’ daughter, like the decisions you were making had any impact on your position as Anaís parent. Quite frankly, it disgusted you that she chose to say that. Never did you think she’d use such a delicate thing to spite you, especially when you worried constantly about if you were good enough for the sweet little baby whose life depended on you. 

Yet, you could hear every soft and soothing word she sweetly murmured to your daughter through the baby monitor. And for a moment, you were jealous. Jealous of your own child for being on the receiving end of the care Alexia usually gave to you. An intense jealousy that consumed you, seeped into your soul, and took over you like your love was some kind of possession. 

That was when you realised something had to change in this situation. 

This wasn’t the way you wanted to raise your child. Even though there wasn’t even the slightest possible chance Anaís would remember it, you knew the effect these kinds of things had on children, and both you and Alexia had sworn that, no matter what, Anaís and any future children would never know what it was like to grow up in a home that wasn’t drowning in love. Not even for just a second.

You took a deep breath, or ten, and tried to relax the tension in your shoulders. They were nearly up to your ears with stress, you could feel the knots beginning to build in your muscles across your back, as well as a stress headache building up ferociously.

Alexia was the best coparent you could ask for, how she was acting in the other room when she thought no one was listening said all that needed to be said. Anaís’ reaction wasn’t how you expected her to be, and it became very clear that a different approach was needed.

Only you and Alexia know your child. Only the two of you knew what was best, not some random articles and forums. So you took another breath, looked at the love of your life on the screen of the monitor, the mother of your child, heard how perfect she was with your baby, and it all clicked. She was on your team, you were both just too clouded to remember that. Clouded because you had made your daughter the top priority, clouded for the best reason, most important reason. You were still outrageously frustrated at her and the comment she made, but she’d make her regret known, you could hear it in the quiet sniffles that sounded through the small monitor sporadically.

Down the microphone of the baby monitor, Alexia was still quietly mumbling to a significantly calmer Anaís, and it warmed your heart. You held down the button to get the microphone on your end to work, waiting for a second as Alexia finished her rambling and placed a gentle kiss to the tired baby’s head, punctuated with a swipe of her thumb against her own cheek to rid it of the wetness that had accumulated.

“Bring her back in here, Ale.” You told her, stifling a smile at the way she jumped a little at the unexpected voice in the room. She nodded though, and did as you said.

She looked a little sheepish as she walked in, her arms cradling Anaís and rocking her ever so slightly. You shuffled to sit back against the headboard and patted the space beside you for her to sit too. In her arms, Anaís was minutes away from falling asleep, finally. Meanwhile, the two of you had stress lines and dark eyebags that told a story in itself. One you wanted to end, so desperately. 

However, you weren’t going to be the one that gave in first. You deserved an apology and you could tell Alexia knew that with how she sat uncomfortably beside you, her guilt evidently eating away at her. The second she opened her mouth, you already knew you’d forgive her, and that she was the only person in the world you would navigate this pathway with.

It seemed Alexia felt that way too.

“I… am so sorry.” She whispered, accompanied by a sigh that was a lot gentler, quieter, not a spiteful one like earlier. 

Your eyes drifted to your daughter and remained unmoving, stuck on the slight up and down of her chest as she breathed and the flutter of her tiny eyelashes as she fought sleep once more. Alexia seemed to notice, and though she would keep Anaís in her arms forever if she could, the only other person she would let her go for is you. 

“Take her. She’s okay. She’ll fall asleep right away with you.” Her voice was so soft, the contrast of it then compared to before, it made your heart ache. 

You didn’t stay on that note too long as you tried to ignore the lump in your throat. Instead, you reached for your daughter instead, being careful to keep the peace that’d finally found her. Alexia lay her in your arms and you leaned back against the headboard, cuddling Anaís as close to you as you could get her. It wasn’t until now, with her in your hold, that you realised just how much this whole thing had affected you. There was no point in fighting off the overwhelm of emotions that started cascading over you. If Alexia felt guilty before, it increased by an astronomical amount when she saw the first glimmer of a tear stream down your cheek in the low light of the bedroom.

She let you have your moment with your baby, knowing it was the main thing that could ground you then, and she’d wait for her turn when you had the space for it in your mind. The brunette knew, after her earlier actions, that she was low on your list of priorities, that she understood. She made a low blow and hated herself for it.

“We’ll keep her in here for tonight. Try again another day.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against Anaís as she began to doze off. Alexia nodded and left it at that, she could read between the lines of your words as you wrote the conversation off for the night. 

The light weight of your daughter, there was no greater comfort in the world. The second she was away from you, it felt like half your heart had gone with her; you only felt whole with her around, something you never expected to experience before becoming a parent. You simply weren’t you without your new little family. 

Time ticked on a little, it being so quiet in the room you could hear the hands of Alexia’s watch on her bedside table tick by. Anaís didn’t shuffle or stir once, she was almost always at peace with you, something that filled you with both pride and relief. It was enough of a remedy for the tumultuous turn the night had taken, that you leaned your head against Alexia’s shoulder with a tired exhale. The small action turned the midfielder’s whole mood around, unknowingly needing you just as much as you her. Even if sometimes you didn’t feel it, or you did but you rejected it, you would always need her. She’d always need you. There were some occasions where your reliance on each other overpowered your anger, you both needed to get better at recognising that. 

So even though you were still mad, you gladly leaned into her more when she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and placed a kiss on your temple.

“I’m sorry. More than you know.” Alexia murmured, and you didn’t even have to look at her to know there was a self-deprecating frown on her face. Normally you’d kiss it off her or brush the wrinkled lines away with your thumb, but you let this one linger a tad longer. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it and I could never mean it. I’m so sorry, amor. I swear.” 

“It really hurt, Alexia.” You blurted out. You didn’t know you had things to say, but there were words rolling off your tongue anyway. “Don’t ever use that against me again. You… made me feel like a bad mother and you’re the last person in the world that’s supposed to make me feel like that. It really did hurt.” 

Your voice cracked as you spoke, your eyes never moving from your daughter. Still, in your peripheral vision, you saw Alexia turn her head away for a second as she let out a sharp breath. Sharp because it felt like she’d been stabbed in the heart with your honesty, your much needed honesty, but painful nevertheless. It was entirely her fault, she knew that, and to know she had made you feel so wrecked was something she would never forget. It’d be on her mind for the next god knows however long, until she feels deserving to not be reminded of such idiocy, only as a result of you knowing you were a good parent. The best parent. Until you remembered that again, she’d be stuck wallowing in her regret forever. 

After she collected herself again, she turned back to you, attempting to discreetly wipe her tears away that’d come back when your voice wobbled with emotion you never should have felt in the first place. Her arm that was still around you hugged you tighter, and she repeatedly pressed her lips to your forehead as if she was trying to kiss away the hurt you described. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered once more, suppressing a sob as all that ran through her mind was you, the offense you must have taken, the doubts that must be running rampant in your head, all these things you never should have to experience yet you did then because of her own stupid actions. “You are the best parent, I swear my life on that. On everything I have. There is no one else that could give Anaís the love you give to her. You’re the love of my life, the love of Anaís’ life. She looks at you like you’re the only person that exists, she adores you, and that’s because of how amazing you are as a mother to her. Look how she has settled now. You’re her favourite person in the world.”

Even though her earlier words still echoed in the background, something about the soothing, sincere way she apologised hit something inside you. This version of her was the version you knew, the one that knew exactly what you needed to hear and when, even if what you needed now was a result of her own wrongdoing. But she was human, she made mistakes, and despite the fact that what she said before rang deep, you knew she didn’t mean it. She wasn’t the type of woman to say something like that and mean every syllable, she couldn’t be further from the opposite if she tried. She was the type to love you when it was hard, to care for you when you pushed her away, and to give you the world when she herself didn’t have the strength to carry it. The important thing was that she tried, god she was the most determined person you’d ever met, and she’d be damned if she didn’t try her hardest to get you to forgive her. 

Hell, you’d made some choice words once or twice to her over the years, you wouldn’t be a good partner if you didn’t give her the same grace she always gave you, no matter what. This time, when tears came to your eyes once more, it was because of her words again, but for totally different reasons. Hearing her talk so warmly and honestly about what she thought of you as a parent never failed to strike you right in the chest.

“You really think that?” You sniffled, gazing down at your sleeping daughter through blurred vision and feeling the soft smile Alexia had to give rather than seeing it, her cheek pressed against yours. 

“I do. You are her entire world, amor.” The brunette replied without a shred of doubt. 

Her fingertips of the arm she had draped around your shoulders lightly trailed up and down your skin in a comforting gesture, yet another reason for the tears that quietly made their way down your cheeks. She noticed, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she chose to take the moment with you, a silent reconciliation where any further words weren’t necessary. The evening had been filled with frustration and, consequently, too many exchanges rife with vitriol that had led to this point. Now, with most of it behind you both, the tension began to dissolve and your focus could be averted back to the important things; your baby, and each other.

Anaís, despite her rosy cheeks and slightly runny nose, was calm again. And that calmness bled into you and Alexia, bringing the two of you down from your heightened states and relishing in the serenity in the room. A combination of Anaís’ muffled snores, Alexia’s steady and forever unwavering presence and hold, and the newfound stillness around meant you could breathe a little easier, think a little clearer. It provided a moment of much needed clarity, where you recognised that any challenge you came across, whether that be in parenthood, your relationship, or the two combined, you could get through them. 

When you woke up the next morning, you had a feeling you’d feel more sure and certain in your capabilities as a parent and partner, with a better sense of the strength you possessed to tackle any obstacles that cropped up in the future. Most importantly, however, you weren’t alone. Though you wished you didn’t have to go through these sorts of things, they provided an opportunity to grow, and you weren’t going to bypass that just to hold a grudge. You wanted to let her know that you were well on your way to forgiving her. 

“I love how she is sleeping like she didn’t nearly cause a war.” Alexia commented some time later, the pair of you breaking into very quiet laughter, fearful of disgruntling Anaís. “How beautiful she is, no?” 

“I know. But it’s a bit vain to say that, Ale, when she’s entirely your DNA and not mine.” You teased, grinning at the shake of her head and soft chuckle. 

“Nuestra pequeña. Qué afortunados somos.” Alexia stated ever so quietly, almost intelligibly, in complete awe. You shared the sentiment, a smile on your face when the brunette leaned down to graze her lips against the young girl’s forehead. 

“The luckiest.” You agreed in a breathy whisper, utterly consumed with love for your daughter, and the woman at your side. 

“I know she has to sleep in her room eventually, but for tonight, we have her in here. And maybe, I don’t know, we think of a different approach. It isn’t working for her and it’s not fair on any of us.” You nodded immediately, mind already reeling with idea after idea to make it an easier transition for everyone. Ultimately though, after the night that’d already been had, now wasn’t the time.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow. We’re all exhausted.” Alexia hummed her agreement with a yawn for good measure. 

After a few more minutes of cuddles with your family, you cautiously put Anaís down into the cot next to your side of the bed. Having already done your own night routine long before the events that had occurred, you climbed into bed and lay on your side facing your daughter, like you did nearly every night. Alexia did a quick check around the house, locking the doors and grabbing anything the three of you might need overnight as she always did, before sliding under the duvet behind you. Her lips found your shoulder, followed by her arms wrapping around you and hugging you tight back to her. 

“I love you. Always.” She murmured against your skin, nuzzling her face into the back of your neck.

“I love you too, Ale.” You said back easily, because it was easy to say those words to her, no matter what had happened. Some truths were simple. 

The next day, you found a new system for Anaís bedtime. One that was extraordinarily better for all of you, and worked almost seamlessly. Some nights were a bit harder than others, and she did end up in your room every so often, but it wasn’t long before she was sleeping in her rooms every night and only waking up a couple times. And when it was time for your second child, your son Oriol, to adapt to his room, the two of you had it down perfectly. That blip with Anaís was merely a distant memory.

—

“Anaís, no, you can’t throw your food at me!” Alexia sighed exasperatedly, bending down for the hundredth time to pick up her daughter’s dinner that was more on the floor than her plate. 

Days where you were out working and Alexia was left alone with Anaís were days she treasured. Except, when the two year old seemingly decided that she didn’t feel like treasuring them and instead didn’t want anything to do with her Mami, things weren’t so fun. 

The morning had been bliss, with the three of you spending it lazily in bed until 10am where you finally had to get up and get ready to leave, which was when everything fell apart. The second the door closed behind you, the what should be quiet house was then filled with the sharpest cries one could imagine. It took twenty minutes and too many persuasion tactics from Alexia to get her to calm down, which included a small bowl of chocolate buttons in front of the TV, something so out of the norm for a morning with Anaís. She screamed and screamed anytime the brunette tried to change her into clothes other than her pajamas, and the same went for when she tried to put some shoes on her. So that threw the day’s plans out the window, substituted for a day at home instead, where Alexia had no idea what to do with both Anaís and herself.

Alarm bells were already ringing loudly in her mind at the out-of-character behaviour from her daughter, but no matter what she tried, she couldn’t get to the bottom of it. The toddler didn’t seem ill, she wasn’t showing any signs of injuries that Alexia could see, she’d had a great night's sleep the night before, and nothing else was out of the norm. She wasn’t the type to behave badly on purpose, or at least hadn’t until that point, and Alexia didn’t believe that was what the case was. The midfielder was left completely dumbfounded. 

And it remained that way for the whole time you were gone. In fact, things got worse. Hardly half an hour went by without tears from Anaís and concern that was unknowingly turning into frustration for Alexia. All sorts of things started running through her mind, thoughts she hadn’t had in a long time, not since her daughter was a tiny sub-10-pound baby whose fist fit around her pinky. With each show of defiance, of utter distaste for her Mami, and every scrike that shook the walls of your home, the doubts began to creep in for Alexia. They snuck in quietly, disguised by the sounds coming from Anaís, nestling deep in the back of her head and growing nearly every second. 

When dinner time came, of which even just getting Anaís into her chair was a struggle, her confidence as a parent was in tatters. It’d been thoroughly wrecked, she didn’t even know how the pair of them had survived the day. But the worst was yet to come.

No less than five minutes in and almost her entire dinner was scattered across the tiled floor of the kitchen. What hadn’t made it to the ground had gathered on Alexia’s shirt. The tears came back in full force for the younger girl, and the excruciating pain it was to listen to it nearly evoked the same reaction from the footballer. Never had she felt so lost, so not worthy of being a parent. She didn’t feel at all good enough for her daughter, something she always worried she’d feel but never actually believed it was a point she’d reach. Well, she had, and it seemed like a pit she’d spiralled into that she would never get out of again.

You came home at precisely the right time to save the situation from becoming any worse. You closed the door behind you and went to call out to your family, just to hear what could only be described as terror. Anaís’ shouting voice echoed from the kitchen to the hall by the front door, paired with Alexia’s panicked ramble as she tried to extinguish the situation. At that, you rushed to put your things down so you could go in and see what seemed to be going so wrong.

“-please! Anaís, we’re okay, it’s okay! Mi amor, I don’t know what to do for you, wha-”

“Ale? What’s going on?” 

When you walked in, Alexia looked like she could have cried from relief. Anaís calmed instantly, like the day hadn’t even happened. Her arms reached out for you whilst Alexia slumped back in her chair, slamming an empty plastic bowl that once had fruit in it onto the table, and putting her head in her hands. 

“Of course she fucking settles with you.” 

Whereas such a phrase may have sounded venomous to anyone else, to you, the person that had spoken to her every single day since you met her all those years ago, you knew the sentence was coated in frustration which was aimed entirely at herself. And the accompanying sniffle she tried to disguise after it too told you everything. When she got angry, especially at herself, she got tearful. Because she wasn’t an angry person; she was afraid of disappointing others. Which, in turn, filled her with fury that burned her from the inside out. Barely two seconds in the room with her and you knew it must’ve been a terrible day for the both of them, and that Alexia was wracked with a devastating amount of self-loathing.

“Okay, okay. She didn’t eat much dinner, I’m assuming?” You checked gently, being met with a scoff and a shake of her head where it was still in her hands, hiding the turmoil that’d be visible on her face with the tears that no doubt streamed. “That’s fine, we can deal with it. Could you go run her a bath for me? Take a moment away from all this and run her a bath so I can try and get her to eat something before bedtime?”

The two year old, with wispy strands of her brown hair sticking to her cheek from a combo of sweat and tears, rested her head against your shoulder and tucked her face into your neck. She seemed tired, exhausted even, something that didn’t exactly come as a surprise given what had apparently transpired during the day. However, you weren’t certain that she was properly feeling like herself, something told you she wasn’t doing too well. 

Per your request, Alexia left the room as soon as you spoke, head bowed as she left which was just another example of the mental state she was in. It concerned you, both of them concerned you, and it took everything within you to keep a frown off your face at the ache you felt in your chest as a result of the situation you were faced with. Almost all your questions were solved when you grabbed the thermometer from the first aid box in one of the kitchen cupboards and found that Anaís had a temperature. 

You rushed to fix her a bowl of cereal, all care for what she ate out the window, so that you could give her some medicine as soon as possible. She ate some of it, albeit reluctantly with a bit of defiance, but enough that satisfied you for the night. Leaving the mess for later, you cuddled your daughter close to you as you headed upstairs to where Alexia had a bath ready and waiting. The brunette sat on the edge of it, hand dipped into the water to check it was just right, before she turned the taps off and dried her fingertips on her shirt.

“Ready?” You hummed quietly, her jumping a little and standing abruptly, turning around to face you. 

Her face was red, much alike Anaís’, and it seemed her emotions were still overwhelming her. She gave a quick nod, before mumbling something about going downstairs to clean up and going to rush past you. You, on the other hand, were having none of it.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.” You reached a hand out to carefully grab her wrist, Alexia not putting up a fight as you did so and stopping in her step. You turned her to face you, but she didn’t look at you. So you dropped her hand and raised your own to her cheek, a tender touch that had her inhaling sharply at the softness of it. “She’s okay, she’s eaten now and she’s calm, she had a temperature so I ga-”

“She had a temperature? But I checked twice today?” Alexia cut you off in alarm. Immediately, she put the back of her hand on Anaís’ back under her shirt to find her skin was running hot. “I checked twice, this morning and only a couple hours ago, it was normal, I sw-”

“I know, I know. It must have only come on in the last hour or so, but she was probably feeling unwell all throughout the day. She’s had some medicine, she’ll start feeling better any time now. Don’t worry about it, Ale. Everything is alright. I’m gonna bath her and put her to bed, I’ll come find you after and we can talk, okay?” It seemed the midfielder forewent a reply because she wasn’t sure if it were words or sobs that would come out, so she nodded once more, avoiding your gaze. You leaned up and kissed her forehead, smiling sadly at the tears drowning her eyes. “I love you. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

Later on, with Anaís fast asleep tucked up in bed, it taking no time at all for her to doze off, you came downstairs to total silence. The kitchen and lounge, which were both once a mess, were spotless. The horrors of the day had been erased, and Alexia was nowhere to be found. 

Through the window, you could see evening turn to dusk with the sky painted a deep orange that faded into light blue. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, only a small crescent moon and trails from planes that’d flown overhead. And there, staring at the view of the city from the backyard of your home, was the one person you were looking for. 

Alexia was sat on the edge of the stone wall where patio stones turned to grass, leaning back on her hands that rested on the bricks, shoulders shuddering infrequently with her sporadic breaths. Without being clued up yet on exactly what had occurred whilst you were away, you knew it’d been a bad day for her as a parent. You felt for her, heart a little broken at the psychologically wrecked version of her you’d come home to. You’d been in her place a number of times, and she never failed at making you feel invincible with her love and care afterwards, no matter how far you’d spiralled down. Tonight, she needed you.

The defeated brunette definitely would have heard you open and close the door, as well as your footsteps, though she gave no reaction to either. You wandered over, rounding the wall and sitting beside her. You looked at her, really looked at her, but she kept her eyes averted, glancing at everything apart from you. Her knee was bouncing, her posture was tense, and there was still a steady stream of tears down her cheeks that she ignored. You didn’t want to overwhelm her, or worsen her mood, so all you did then was rest a hand on her thigh, and give her some time to decompress a little. Or, so you thought.

“I don’t know what went so wrong today. I don’t know what I did.” She started to ramble quickly, sniffling and stumbling over her words with her shoulders up to her ears in a shrug as she tried to defend herself to you. But she didn’t need to defend herself, you didn’t blame her for a thing. “I-I got the thermometer out and checked her twice, it was normal, it was fine. I didn’t recognise she was… she was ill. She was sick all day because of… because of m-me.” 

As she spoke, it sounded like she was about to break. It’d been so long since you’d heard her like that.

“Ale, she’s fine. She won’t even remember today when she wakes up in the morning, tomorrow is a new day and-”

“Do you think I’m a bad parent?” The question she cut you off shocked you, and it took a second for it to register before you frowned at her and squeezed her knee.

“Alexia, of course I d-” She stood abruptly, shaking her head incessantly. 

“No, because I missed so many signs today, it’s my fault she had such a bad day. I messed up so much I just didn’t get anything right, I would understand if y-”

You got up and stood in front of her, hands on her face to stop her panicking and to ground her. Still, she refused to meet your eye, but you gave her a soft yet firm look.

“I don’t, Alexia, I never could.” 

She nodded in response before she properly processed your words, and when the realisation did settle in, that’s when she cracked. Her forehead fell to your shoulder and her hands linked loosely around your waist, leaning into you as sobs ripped out from her. You wrapped your arms around her tightly, turning your head a little to leave a few kisses on her cheek every now and then as she cried, a reminder you were there for her. One of your hands rubbed up and down her back comfortingly as she let out all the pent up emotions into your shoulder. You didn’t move. You stayed right there for her.

“Anaís is okay, you’re okay. Everything is okay, Alexia, I promise. It’s just a bad day.” You whispered as she began to calm, hand still moving up and down, just slower but still reassuring. “She’ll go to Eli’s like normal if she’s well enough tomorrow, and she’ll have the best day there because you know she’ll get treated like a princess. You didn’t miss anything because there were no signs to miss, you said it yourself. You checked, twice, like any good and loving parent would, and nothing concerning came up. That’s not your fault.”

There was a minute nod against you, and you’d take that for now. You turned again to kiss her cheek, lingering for longer and hugging her impossibly tighter after. A minute or so later, she leaned back in your hold but you didn’t let go for a second, and she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of the jumper she’d changed into at some point whilst you dealt with Anaís. Then, finally, she met your gaze, defeat and exhaustion along with some taunting guilt that still hovered around, all present in her red, puffy eyes. 

“Is she upset or, maybe, angry? At me?” She asked cautiously, to which you smiled and shook your head with a click of your tongue.

“She’s your daughter, she doesn’t get angry at the people she loves. Especially not her Mami.” You answered with ease, with certainty. Even though you hadn’t outright asked Anaís how she felt about the day, you knew one thing and that was she didn’t feel any of those things towards Alexia. Never could.

“She was earlier. For most of the day.” Alexia feebly argued.

“No, she’s ill, and as a small toddler in such a big, scary world, she doesn’t know what to do when she feels like that.” You reassured her, reaching a hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair that had fallen from her bun back behind her ear. “Don’t blame yourself anymore, please. Because Anaís and I don’t, nobody does. Tell that huge brain of yours to shut up for once.” 

She let out a quiet chuckle, and though you’d heard that sound a thousand times before, it was music to your ears then, no less than it was the first time you heard it. Walking to your table on your first date, Alexia close behind you with her hand on your back, you making a stupid comment about how overly hard the waiter was trying to impress your date, clearly having recognised her, and her softly chuckling down your ear. You shivered then at the sound, and you shivered there, in the backyard of your shared home, your daughter asleep inside and attempts for a second child actively in progress. But the shiver this time was, rather unfortunately and not so romantically, due to the chill of the evening as the sun bid its goodbye with the horizon.

“I make no promises.” Alexia murmured, resting her forehead against yours and letting her eyes fall shut. 

You smiled, noticing the difference in her already compared to when you first stepped outside, and tilted your head a bit to leave a kiss to her lips. It caught her by surprise, and she opened her eyes again to find you, the love of her life, gazing at her with all the love you had to give and more, not a single part of you believing the doubts that weighed her down. It helped her to remember what she did everything for and why; for her family. Always. You, Anaís, and any future children if the pair of you were to be so lucky. A bad day was a drop in the ocean, it was an ounce of misfortune compared to the pricelessness of your lives. It would stick in her mind for a little while, but how could she focus on that when she lived a dream everyday. 

—

Your fortune only grew when you fell pregnant with your third child after months of failed IVF attempts – a son, named Oriol, who was the mirror of his older sister, something that only became more and more true as he grew up. Anaís flourished in her role, absolutely infatuated with her baby brother and desperate to do anything to help her parents whenever she could. For some time, the four of you lived in a perfect little bubble of pure bliss. All the talk about how difficult it was going from one child to two seemed far away, everyday was… perfect. 

You were never much of a morning person before becoming a parent, but having two children didn’t really leave you much of a choice but to become one. Alexia had been, and she often took those early sunrise shifts because she treasured them. When Anaís was a baby that didn’t have the boundless energy of a toddler, she was always more than happy to sit in her Mami’s arms as she woke up. On warmer mornings, they’d spend the time outside, until winter settled in and made that prospect daunting, Alexia fearing her daughter’s fingers and toes might drop off in only a few minutes of being out in the cold. 

Then Oriol came along, and mornings turned into a bit of a handful for one parent to handle. Especially because Anaís did possess an unreal amount of giddiness that was difficult to juggle with a grouchy newborn. So the pair of you found a system, a routine that quickly became something that you treasured.

Most days it was a toss up between which child would wake up first, but they usually stirred at the same time, a blessing in disguise most days. On some occasions, you’d get up and go for a walk, or out for breakfast, or to a family member’s house. But other times, of which were your favourite, you’d have breakfast in bed together, a lazy start to the day. They were a rarity more than others, with Alexia in and out of the city and the country, so you never took them for granted.

Perfect, until you went back to work, many months down the line, just as the intensity of Alexia’s football season picked up, and suddenly everything you thought you knew just… disappeared. Sure, she’d stepped away from the national team when Anaís was around a year old, but that never lightened the load of club football, which still caught you off guard every year, especially your first as a parent of two. Going from seeing Alexia nearly everyday, spending hours with her, to barely having her in one place for too long as you juggled work was more difficult than you expected. 

Even on the days she was in Barcelona, there was training and media commitments and sponsorship shoots and meetings that kept her away. You saw her at breakfast, where she rushed out with nothing but a banana and a protein shake, not before kissing your cheek and your children’s, and you saw her when she got home late in the evening, helping with bedtime before falling into bed with you and dozing off almost immediately. 

Before you could realise, you felt a distance growing between you. You felt disconnected from her world when normally your worlds were one and the same. She was still the perfect parent you knew her as, but that’s all she had time and energy for. The strain was becoming too much for the both of you, with two kids and workloads that had no limits. For some time, you didn’t know how to solve it. And that scared the life out of you.

Each morning you dropped off your children at Eli’s house, which was only three days a week as the rest you worked when you had the chance to at home, she could see the stress everything was causing you grow more every time you visited her. On the rare occasion she saw her daughter, she saw the same burden on her shoulders too. The wiser woman couldn’t let it go on any longer; one morning, she ordered that you came in and sat down with her for coffee. She was a persuasive woman, even as you argued about being late for work, she waved you off and gently took hold of your hand to lead you inside. With Oriol in one arm, resting on her hip, she moved around her kitchen with an effortlessness you dreamed of having. 

Everything took so much energy, so much mental strength, a piece of your resolve was chipped away everyday. It seemed things had gotten too much, your resolve becoming too weak, because when Eli set down your coffee in front of you, you were already in bits. All it took was the hug she gave for you to fall apart into her arms. 

After that, you took the day off work. You sat and listened, your son offering you a slice of normality, of comfort, as he slept in your arms whilst Eli gave every bit of advice she had to give. If it wasn’t for her, you dreaded to think of how far things might have gone before either you or Alexia fell apart, and if that might have manifested as a breakdown or a show of anger that could have done irreparable damage. But as you listened to her mother, you knew where Alexia got her parenting skills from, where she got her fierce care and compassion from. You were incredibly grateful for the both of them.

Eli demanded that, when Alexia got home from her game later that evening, you were to sit down and speak with her. You tried to argue that the brunette would be tired and a conversation like that was the last thing she would want to do, but you lost that fight. The older woman had you under strict instruction to get her to do it anyway, and if she didn’t, she had Eli’s wrath to deal with the next day.

Your children’s most beloved grandparent wasn’t the only saving grace of that particularly difficult period of time; the aforementioned game Alexia had that same night ended in a loss. And the effect it had on her was the final straw for her. Even without the push from her mother, the second she walked in to find you waiting at the door for her, she made it known that she couldn’t go on any longer the way you two were. She made it known by collapsing into your arms with ease, and it felt like decades since you last hugged her, properly. 

That night, you spent hours on the sofa, limbs entangled and tears soaking each other’s t-shirts, talking about how difficult things had been and how you could get past them. It wasn’t easy, it couldn’t be further from that description. There were things Alexia said that made you want to scream, shout, cry, argue about, and vice versa. Yet, you worked past it. By the time morning came, you were both fast asleep on the couch still, as close as you could where you held each other, not even stirring at the return of your children after their impromptu night at their abuela’s house, until Anaís snatched a crayon away from Oriol’s teething mouth which resulted in him letting out a piercing cry, abruptly waking the both of you.

This blip, as difficult and unbearable as it was at the time, was necessary for your relationship. It taught you things about each other that set you up for the rest of your lives together. 

An unspoken acknowledgement formed that presented itself when brief periods of busyness happened again; you learned to love each other quietly in those moments, ready to love loudly again when the storm passed. Your devotion to one another could be found in the quiet moments, like shared glances across the dinner table over breakfast and lingering touches as you passed each other whilst getting your children ready for the day. It could be found in notes slipped into the other’s coat pocket, coming home with flowers after a trip to the supermarket, guilty pleasure treats hidden in the cupboard away from the sweet tooth habits of your children that they’d definitely picked up from their Mami. 

There was an underlying agreement that whenever there was a hard moment, a disagreement, frustration at each other or the defiant behaviours from Anaís and Oriol, that you can still go to each other no matter what. Even if things went too far, you’d still end the night in each other’s arms, whether you were on speaking terms, one giving the other the silent treatment, or simply too tired to talk. And that might be the thing you treasure most about your relationship.

All these things were evident in the next large obstacle that fell before you both. 

Oriol was not quite the social butterfly as his sister had always naturally been. Nursery, to him, was torture. Being away from his family, with people he didn’t know? It was the scariest thing he’d ever had to face in the nearly three years of his life. 

The first day that you and Alexia dropped him off there, only for an hour to get him adjusted, it couldn’t have gone any worse. The ordeal left you both in tears as Alexia drove you home silently. The brunette had to stand beside you and watch as they pulled your son out of your arms, him clinging onto you desperately as the most heartbreaking sobs you’d heard in your life ripped through him. And that had been after the two of you spent half an hour showing him around and playing with him, as well as trying to leave quietly before his cries brought you running right back. 

Every part of you screamed to take him home, to never step foot near a nursery again, because you couldn’t cope with the fear and anxiety he was feeling. It hurt, physically hurt. Your heart clenched so tightly each time, you swore if his scrikes were a decibel higher, you’d go into cardiac arrest. But that wasn’t realistic, he had to go at some point and taking him home to stop that would only delay the inevitable. You just didn’t know it would be so hard.

Anaís wasn’t at all like that; the second she step foot in the small classroom, saw all the toys she could play with, saw the mud kitchen and the sand pit and the water pit, all the bikes and scooters she could ride out on the playground, it was more of a challenge to get her to leave than stay. Oriol though, he despised it.

Three days in a row, you arrived back at home with a lump in your throat and remnants of your son’s pain on you in the form of the tear drops that dotted your jumper, and you couldn’t take it. Alexia closed the door behind you both, and you immediately broke down crying at the thought of him back there, all alone, wondering why his parents had taken him to such a terrible place and left him there.

“We, we can’t take him there anymore, Ale, h-he hates it so much.” You sobbed, eyes closed as you pictured his little face, his eyes filled with betrayal, and his wobbling bottom lip when he realised you were just going to walk out on him again.

“We have to, amor, you know this.” Alexia sighed sadly, not frustrated with you, instead equally as torn up about it. 

“Alexia, he hates it! We’re his parents, we’re not meant to do this to him, we can’t keep putting him through this!” 

With a frown on her face as she tried to suppress her own emotions, she headed over to you and hugged you, holding you close to her.

“Shh.” She shushed you gently, but it had the opposite effect. You pushed away from her, the brunette stumbling backwards slightly and having to catch herself with a hand on the drawers behind. 

“No, why are you okay with this? You’re not letting anything on, why aren’t you as affected as I am?” You accused, and she had to take a breath to keep a cool head. 

This wasn’t you talking, it was your concern. It was a momentary blip that happened to the both of you every now and then. She recognised it instantly, two kids did that to her.

“We’re not fighting about this, mi amor. I’m not fighting you.” Alexia told you in a soft, calming tone. You raked your hand through your hair and huffed, not even sure why you were starting on her like that. Of course she felt just as guilty and afraid as you. “We have to do this now, at some point, otherwise we will never get him into school anyway. He will get used to it, I know he will. But it’s hard now, it’s so hard.” 

“So hard.” You whimpered, putting your head in your hands as your cries picked up again. Alexia stepped closer, her arms around you again as you buried your face into her chest.

“We’ll get him through it. I know we will. He’ll love it before you know it.” She whispered, her comforting words beginning to crack through the walls of panic that surrounded your mind, even if she didn’t know if what she was saying would become true.

The thing was, it only got tougher. Everyday he spent longer there, until you dropped him off as he sobbed for you and there wasn’t anything you could do but leave him there until mid-afternoon to pick him up. It was a wonder you got any work done during that time because all you could see was the heartbreak on his face every time you walked out of his classroom. And there were numerous occasions after that one day with Alexia where the two of you clashed over it, some worse than others. Her lack of expression about the situation grated on you, as if she didn’t care, until you stepped back and gained rationality and realised she was just trying to be strong for you.

But then, your son surprised you. One of the best surprises, one of the most relieving.

After another difficult day of dealing with his meltdowns before nursery and being extremely distracted at work, you decided to walk to pick him up. Alexia’s training had run late, something she was frustrated and a little upset with (not that she’d admit that to you) because it put her head at peace to have her son back in her sight, her arms, after seeing him so worked up in the morning. She really kept quiet about it, she let the guilt eat away at her silently rather than adding to the things you were feeling. When she was at home, she occupied herself with the most unnecessary things, because it distracted her from how the silence of the house exaggerated the cries that echoed around her mind whilst Oriol was away. Picking him up from nursery and seeing the way he ran towards you both was the only thing that made it feel worth it.

You had all the faith in the world in your son, like any parent should towards their child. Maybe it was wrong to feel so shocked, but that was the last thing on your mind when you arrived at his classroom door, saw the way he grinned from ear to ear as he played with two other boys, and laughed heartily at something one of them did. You’d seen him playing other times, though he didn’t seem so bright and happy like he did then. It brought tears to your eyes, for all the right reasons this time.

“He has had a much better day today. He is adjusting now.” One of his teachers told you when she came over, a warm smile on her face. “I know it has been hard for you and your partner seeing him struggle every morning, but today we have noticed a big difference. I think he’s happy.”

When she saw your reaction of tears of euphoria, she brought you in for a brief, comforting hug. It set in then, that as horribly difficult and unbearable as it had been, it was worth it. You did the right thing. All you could wish for in that moment was to have Alexia there with you.

Your next best bet was meeting her at training. It wasn’t too far from the nursery, and with Oriol being in such an upbeat mood, you decided you would walk there with him. Because you have to take care of the person you love just as much as your children. And it felt like, with Oriol finally happy with the day he’d had, you could turn your attention to Alexia, and pour all the love back into your relationship which had been a little neglected during that time.

You would have done anything to make the experience better for your young son from the get-go, but all the trials and tribulations just made it sweeter. The whole walk, he rambled endlessly about what he did that day. He remembered every single detail about the friends he had made, what games they played, the size of the train line they’d built around the whole classroom; you hadn’t ever seen such elation on his face as he relayed it all to you. Then he said–

“I can’t wait to go back tomorrow.” 

Each time he came home, the first thing he talked about was how much he didn’t want to go back the next day. Honestly, you weren’t sure how you didn’t break down crying on the spot. But with his tiny dinosaur bag hanging off one of your shoulders, his hand in yours, and tears burning your eyes, you couldn’t recall a better feeling whilst being his parent. All you could do was march down the streets of your newfound home and think of what the love of your life’s reaction would be.

It wasn’t just her though, it was all her teammates too, who filed into the locker room each with equally wide smiles at the surprise of seeing you both there. Oriol went a little shy in your arms, as you would expect, but he relished in the proud reactions each person gave when you told them about the successful day he’d had. Irene especially, who could have passed as Oriol’s third parent when she looked as if she could cry from pride at the news. Alexia, of course, was the last one in. 

The others left after changing, heading home after quick showers, all whilst Alexia lingered outside with a few members of staff, talking away like she always did about football. Thankfully though, to put you out of your misery, one of them that stayed behind with you shouted her in under the guise of physio, even though she was apparently perfectly fine. You could hear her grumbling about it as she came closer, making you laugh, as you sat at her cubby whilst your son wandered around the room, babbling to himself and messing with things he probably shouldn’t. 

Then she walked in, head still down, not noticing you both until Oriol’s squeal had her eyes snapping up.

“Wha–? What are you doing here?” The brunette broke out into one of the happiest, all-consuming smiles you’d ever seen her do, crouching down to her son’s height as he ran over as fast as he could waddle. She laughed giddily as he wrapped his little arms around her neck, lifting him up and hugging him tightly. 

“Oriol, why don’t you tell Mami about your day?” You prompted him, watching his face light up even more as he leaned back in Alexia’s hold so he could see her. 

“I loved it!” He beamed, a bright grin on his lips, one you hadn’t seen in so long. 

Alexia turned to you briefly as he started rambling, speaking a whole load of nothing initially as he couldn’t contain himself with his babbling. Her expression was one of astonishment, but also the most relief you had ever seen a human possess. There was a gloss to her eye that shone brightly in the fluorescent light of the locker room, one she tried to blink away when she turned back to her son.

He went on and on, just like he did to you, stuttering due to his mind working faster than his mouth, and diving in and out of a hundred stories at once. As he did so, Alexia had one hand splayed out across his back, rubbing up and down or in circles whilst holding him up with her other arm. Her eyes were wide as she listened to each and every detail he revealed, so much giddiness radiating off of him, it was hard to keep up.

“And-and then, then we played in the water and I g-got water on my jumper, but it was okay, ‘cause the teacher made it not wet again, that was good ‘cause I got cold, and then Pau finded more train pieces, so we made it more long, and-”

“Breathe, mister.” Alexia laughed, brushing back his wispy brown hair and stroking his cheek with her thumb as he inhaled dramatically. “Sounds like the best day!”

“I can’t wait to go back tomorrow!” He kicked his legs as he spoke, almost hitting Alexia in the stomach, but that was the last thing on her mind. All she could focus on were the words you got stuck on earlier too.

“You want to go back?” She asked softly, eyes darting all over his face to find a hint of the dread he had been weighed down by since starting nursery.

“Sí! Ahora!” He answered without a millisecond of hesitation, before descending into unorganised chatter.

“I am so proud of you.” She interrupted him a moment later, scattering kisses all over his face that had him squealing and pushing her away with his small hands. “I love you.”

“I love you too!” Oriol shrieked when more were pressed against his cheek. “Mama said I can have churros for dinner.” 

“Really?” Alexia raised an eyebrow as she looked at you, waving you over. When you were close enough, she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed your cheek, this time a lot more civilly. “Well, I can’t disagree with that. I think you deserve all the churros we can find in Barcelona.”

The three of you laughed together, for the first time in a while, not burdened by the thought of tomorrow. No, instead, he couldn’t wait for it. Perhaps more excited for it then his churros, and that was no easy feat. What more could you ask for, other than the unbridled joy of your child, even if that was with chocolate spilled onto any surface and material he could find?

And just like any other time that felt uncertain, difficult, borderline end of the world, Alexia was there with you through it all. Steady. Calm when you weren’t. Ready to celebrate you when you needed it most. The best part was, you could tell she thought the same about you. That was a compliment you couldn’t get over. Even being a parent, having two lives depend on you, knowing that you were the person that the one you loved most went to for everything and anything, it was still something you wore like a medal. You loved being her person, loved building a life with her. Loved everything to do with her, even all the parts of her that aggravated to your wits end. You couldn’t get enough of her. 

—

Fights were inevitable. In any and all relationships, they were an impossible thing to avoid. It was rare, so rare, for you and Alexia to have ones that lasted longer than even a few hours. Yet, as was reality, there were one or two that snuck in which uprooted everything, and it was an even tougher mountain to get over when kids were involved.

With their tiny, developing, and unsuspecting brains, it often went under the radar the utter scale of things they picked up on. And you weren’t sure what was in Alexia’s eggs, but your two children ended up growing into the most emotionally mature seven year old and three year old the world had ever seen. No amount of hushed whispers and avoided eye contact could get past them; as a result of the two of you being so openly happy and in love, the second something was amiss, they could just sense it in the air somehow. It blew your mind, plain and simple. So no matter how hard you tried to keep your arguments separate from their little worlds, they always knew anyway. 

You and Alexia had your own stresses you were dealing with, you with your job and Alexia with hers, with the addition of bad news from family that weighed down on the both of you. Those things, as much as you tried to keep them on the down-low and deal with them individually, they soon became too heavy for the burdens to not be shared. But neither of you recognised that. They built and built and built, until everything came crashing down around you. 

First, it started with furrowed eyebrows and heavy sighs from Alexia as she moved around the kitchen like everything in her way was merely an inconvenience. Not you, not her children, rather the mess that had been left behind as you attempted to keep two hyperactive kids on their school breaks entertained for the fourth day they had off, which was a challenge and a half. You hadn’t had time to clean up after them as they went through the house like a tornado or a bull in a fine China shop, hoping they could keep their giddiness contained enough so that you didn’t spend your evening in the emergency waiting room at the nearby hospital. 

Whether Alexia was directing her passive aggressive frustration at you or not, you took it that way regardless. She wasn’t the one that’d had to spend the day chasing after Anaís and Oriol, she’d had a fairly inconspicuous schedule of training and some media interviews and shoots. What you didn’t know, however, was the onslaught of questions she had received about her form which had taken a slight dip in the past few games, as well as the carefully worded questions about Barcelona’s future and her future too, a topic journalists ran with the second she didn’t do well in a game. She loathed the doubts of her ability just because she was a mother and older than her peers, she knew she was still capable, and perfection was expected of her when perfection wasn’t possible for anyone.

Looking back, you knew it was immature, but you made a stupid passing comment anyway about her behaviour since she’d come home. The carelessness in the way she kicked her shoes off at the door and haphazardly left her bag beside it, the theatrics as she cleaned the kitchen, and the aversion she had to even looking at you. One sentence from you was all it took for the house to burst into flames. And with your children outside in the garden doing whatever they were doing, neither of you had no qualms raising your voices at each other.

In only a matter of minutes, there were tears streaking down your face and Alexia’s too. You took yourself away from the situation, unable to bear the venomous way the one surefire person on your team was talking to you, slamming the bedroom door shut behind you for good measure. Alexia, on the other hand, gripped the edge of the counter and bowed her head, teardrops falling onto the granite as she squeezed her eyes shut to try, and fail, at keeping them in. 

Meanwhile, outside, Anaís and Oriol found themselves rooted to the spot for the whole duration of the short fight they heard indoors. They couldn’t make out the words, slightly intelligible as they were muffled by the closed doors and windows of the house, but the damage was already done. Oriol turned to Anaís with a wobbling lower lip first, his little heart beating rapidly at the scary situation he was now presented with. Anaís noticed, and shook the fear off her shoulders before hastily walking over to him. With a determined face, her eyebrows pressed down into a scowl much alike her mother during the most intense game of her life, she planted her hands on her brother’s shoulders and, before speaking her plan, quickly kissed his forehead which calmed his anxiety just a little.

“I go check on Mama, you go see Mami. Vale?” She addressed him calmly, yet like she knew exactly what she was doing, which reassured him. Oriol thought of his big sister as someone he looked up to, he wanted to be her, he admired her. So he stood taller, puffed his chest out, took a deep breath, and nodded like he’d been handed a military mission that was due to save the world. Still, Anaís could spot the worry in his eyes. “It will be okay, Oriol. Promise!”

She removed one of her hands and held out her pinky for him. Without a shred of hesitation, he linked his own with hers and they both kissed their knuckles, just like they’d seen their Mami do with her goalkeeper teammate. Then, they marched inside, Anaís leading Oriol of course, making their way to their designated locations. Just before the door into the kitchen, the brunette girl turned back to her younger brother and gave him a reassuring smile. He smiled back, not quite as sure as hers, but confident enough that she kissed his forehead again before turning and running up the stairs. 

Oriol then turned to face the open doorway where he could see his Mami, his strong and dependent and steady parent, stood with her shoulders shaking as she cried silently. He found himself frowning, his bottom lip threatening to quiver again, before he remembered the task at hand and marched forwards towards her with a confidence he didn’t have.

“Mami?” He said gently, flinching a little at the speed Alexia whipped around to look at him whilst wiping her tears. It was futile to do so, with her already puffy eyes and red cheeks as more fell immediately. 

“Hola, mi príncipe.” The midfielder replied, voice cracking as she choked down her sobs at the flurry of emotions drowning her in that moment.

“Qué pasa?” He asked, stepping closer to her and reaching out his hand for her to take. She did, squeezing his and finding comfort in the soft weight of it in her hold. 

“Nothing.” Her natural reaction was to shrug it off, but it wasn’t right. One look at his face, the depth of his concern far too deep for a boy his age, told her she should be as honest as she could whilst still protecting him.  That was her job after all. “I am a little sad, Oriol. I’m sad because your Mama is sad too. We said some silly things to each other. But it is okay, we are allowed to be sad. I… I…” 

Her emotions got the better of her again, tears dripping off her cheeks and dampening her t-shirt as her son stood and watched. He fumbled internally for a moment, growing upset at the sight of his normally strong and steady Mami, and thinking hard on what she normally does when he cried. 

She hugged him, until he stopped, and long after that. So that’s what he did.

He stepped forward, slipped his hand out of hers, and wrapped his arms around her thigh. She wiped her eyes so she could see clearly and looked down, seeing the curiosity on his face of if he’d done the right thing or not. God, if he only knew. 

Alexia leaned down, hooking her hands under his arms, gently pulled him away, before sliding down to sit back against the cabinet and bringing him back into her. She crossed her legs and placed Oriol in the gap left, before wrapping her arms around him this time, hugging him as tight as she could without hurting him or scaring him off. He hugged her back, a proud smile on his face that he’d got it right. 

What was occurring upstairs, however, was a different story. 

Anaís crept in with the subtlety of a marching band, trying to read the room before she went ahead with Plan A, and if necessary, she would switch to a gentler approach of Plan B. She found you lay in bed, crying, but trying to hide your face from your daughter due to the avalanche of emotions you were experiencing. However, when you factored in who she got her genes from, you should have known better. 

“Excuse me.” The younger girl started, standing beside your bed with her hands on her hip and a look on her face that was all too familiar to one the person that caused this would make. It made you laugh, quietly, but also cry a bit more. So Anaís softened, moving to sit on the side of the bed and taking hold of your hand. “Are you okay?”

“I will be.” You sniffled, an ever so dramatic statement. Anaís looked at you skeptically, like she didn’t quite trust you. “Mami said some mean things to me.”

Her face changed then, an obvious one that not even the most oblivious person could miss. 

“Did you say some mean things to Mami too?” 

Your silence, paired with the sheepish look on your face at being caught out by a seven year old was more than enough for her.

“That’s not fair, Mama! God, you are both so stupid.” She groaned, slapping a hand over her eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume she was seventeen.

“Excuse me!” You scolded lightly, with no real threat behind it. 

Anaís sighed disapprovingly, a shake of her head to tie off the performance, before laying down next to you. She copied your position, pausing for a moment as she thought of what to do with herself, before laying an arm across your waist like she had seen Alexia do sometimes. You smiled at her, and copied her, which she then replied with an expression that mirrored yours.

“You shouldn’t argue with Mami. It makes you both sad.” Anaís commented, one of those things that a kid says that pulls at every heart string you have. 

“I know. But it happens sometimes, it shouldn’t, but it does. Adults argue over big things, like you and Oriol argue over who gets a piggyback first.” Strangely, her eyes lit up at that.

“You were arguing about piggybacks?!” She exclaimed like it was the most exciting prospect in the world. You laughed loudly, one that cleared the fog a bit and brightened your mood.

“No, god no. Something a bit more adult than piggybacks unfortunately. Really boring, nowhere near as exciting.”

“Well, if it was boring, then why did you argue? If you’re going to argue, it should be over something interesting at least. Like piggybacks.” You smiled in amusement, leaning forward to kiss your daughter’s forehead. Your children had a marvellous habit at making you indescribably happy at any given moment. 

“You make a good point, Anaís. Very good.” 

“Exactly. So why would you be mean! You love each other!” She fought her point again. If only things were so simple. But then again, maybe they are, when you look at it from a different perspective. 

Was there any real reason for you and Alexia to argue then like you did? You could hardly even remember how it started beyond a few passive aggressive sighs and slams of cupboards and an unnecessary jab. And those were really ridiculous reasons to start a fight. So maybe it was that simple.

“If I bring Mami upstairs, will you say sorry to each other?” Anaís wondered. It was then that you realised, beyond her joking nature, this whole thing had gotten to her quite a bit. Her and Oriol hadn’t ever really witnessed such a big blow-up like this before. You felt guilty for it, immeasurably so. 

“Only if she says sorry to me first.” You joked, holding back a laugh when Anaís rolled her eyes again. “Fine. Go get her.”

It wasn’t your kids’ job to be the emotionally wise ones of the house. It certainly wasn’t their job to fix adult arguments. That was supposed to be your responsibility, as well as Alexia’s, and you had failed. You were just glad your children had the maturity you momentarily lacked to provide some much needed clarity (and humour) to a situation that could have ended up worse.

“Mami, go upstairs. Now.” Anaís demanded as she stepped into the kitchen. 

Oriol was in Alexia’s lap then, sat on her thigh as he fidgeted with her wedding ring whilst they spoke quietly. The older woman’s tears had dried up, but the heartbreak on her face was still evident. Oriol, once he’d spotted Anaís, ditched Alexia and went over to his sister instead. That left the brunette on the floor of her kitchen, shirt damp with tear splotches, eyes red and ego bruised. But per her daughter’s demand, she nodded, got up off the floor, and left the kitchen, not before leaving kisses to their temples.

With a knuckle, she knocked on the bedroom door delicately, then walked in afterwards. Before the door had even closed behind her, there were two eavesdroppers waiting behind the corner of the wall for her to go in so that they could wait at the door. If Alexia’s attention wasn’t on you, and vice versa, you both would have heard the quiet thump of footsteps that stopped just outside of the room.

“I… was sent in by a very angry seven year old.” Alexia started, unsure what to do or say. You rolled onto your back and sat up against the headboard, hands fiddling with the corner of the blanket.

“I was lectured by a very angry seven year old.” You replied, the slightest hint of a smile on the midfielder’s face that spread to your face not long after. “I think they formed a coup against us.”

“I think they did.” Alexia agreed, moving away from the door and taking a seat on the bed in front of you, crossing her legs again. 

Neither of you said anything for a moment or two, and Oriol let out a frustrated huff outside the bedroom that Anaís shushed him for. Still, the two of you didn’t catch it. Alexia’s hand reached out to trace her fingertip over the pattern on the duvet below you both, a silent offering. Your hand landed in front of hers, accepting it. She linked your fingers together then, some of the pressure lifting from her chest as she squeezed your hand.

“I’m sorry. For saying what I said. And starting an argument.” You went first, knowing that you should, since you were the one that started it and let it descend into something it didn’t need to be.

“I’m sorry too. I… it was a bit stupid, wasn’t it?” Alexia grimaced, making you giggle just a little, just quietly. But it was enough for her.

“It was. We’re both a bit stupid sometimes. But thank god we’ve got two smart kids, right? Don’t know how that happened.” You teased back, this time the pair of you laughing. 

“Oriol hugged my leg and I think it made me cry even more.” You smiled sadly at that, shame crawling in that he felt the need to do that. All you could think was that he shouldn’t have had to do that.

“Anaís actually called us stupid too. Even they recognised it before we did.” You admitted with a shake of your head, a sentiment Alexia shared. Then it fell silent for a moment or two, and your smile fell into something more downbeat. “I think we need to be parents for a little while before we can sort us out. They shouldn’t have to do this, Ale. We… failed.” 

Alexia frowned deeply, one that wrinkled her forehead so intensely it was a wonder they didn’t stick. 

“We’re allowed to mess up sometimes, amor. They’re kids, they don’t expect perfection from us even if they don’t realise it. They want us to be okay, I don’t think that means we failed.” Alexia pointed out. She could see you arguing in your mind with yourself about it afterwards. “I hate that they saw it and felt like they had to fix it, I hate that too, don’t think I don’t. But it’s not a failure. We’re still here, they’re sat outside the door waiting for us, we’re all okay. They know they argue from time to time, but they still love each other. It’s no different for us.”

“I just…” You breathed out shakily, swallowed hard, and dropped your voice to a mumble. “I don’t want them to think this is what love looks like.”

The brunette softened then, immediately. She shuffled closer to you, sitting at your side, her body positioned towards yours, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders as she leaned her forehead against yours. 

“They know what love looks like. They see it between us everyday. They will remember this, but they will remember the rest too. Like me kissing your cheek and their cheeks before I leave in the morning, how ‘I love you’ is the last thing we all say at night. They know there is so much more to love, but… arguing is sometimes a part of it too. Maybe it just makes it a bit more real for them, even if we want to protect them from this side of it.” 

Wise, as always. One of the most emotionally intelligent people you knew, even if it took a year or two for her to reach that point when you first got together. Her perspective on everything, especially since becoming a parent, had shifted. Now, in moments like this, she always knew what to say. And what a moving thing to state at a time you felt your parenthood fracture into two. With some perfectly placed words, handcrafted to a T, that crack was sealed with gold.

Later that night, she said near enough the same thing to your kids. She made it known, in easier phrases, basic enough for their age, that it wasn’t their job to uphold your relationship. They shouldn’t feel the need to fix it, that that was a mistake on your behalfs. Yet, simultaneously, she explained that instances like that happened every so often between parents, between two people that loved each other. Even though Anaís didn’t seem too pleased about that, she certainly seemed to sleep easier after it. The next morning, it was like nothing had even happened. Thank god for pancakes.

—

No matter how many years had passed, how many times Alexia had to travel for work, you never missed her any less. That surprised you, honestly. At some point along the way you thought you would get used to it, and you did, to some degree. You just got better at handling it; didn’t mean you missed her any less at all. Probably more, actually.

Since retiring from the national team, her trips away had gotten much shorter. No two or three week long camps some place in Europe, no summer-long tournaments. Just a night or two away for a game before getting the earliest flight back she could get away with. 

That meant, the first long trip in quite a while hit your family harder than expected. Not in a way that was hard or difficult, there was a routine for it now. But there was just something missing from your home, the atmosphere of it changed. Ten video calls a day couldn’t change that. All that mattered, to you and your children, was having her back. Having her presence, her energy, her love, in the house again. 

When she first mentioned a two week pre-season camp in Mexico, you already felt that uncomfortable twist in your stomach just at the idea of it. There was a weight behind your eyes too, not quite tears, just a heaviness, like your body was already bracing for her absence. Those two feelings paled in comparison to what it was like as you stood on your doorstep, Anaís and Oriol beside you, watching her get into a taxi with her suitcases. The kids had been quiet for the rest of the day, missing her, not knowing what to do with the love they had for her without having a place for it to go. 

The morning before her planned flight back home, you woke up to a notification from her. No text, just a screenshot. A confirmation of a new plane ticket, due to land in Barcelona that night. The excitement that energised you for the rest of the day was boundless, much to your childrens’ confusion. Due to the very late hour of her arrival compared to their bedtimes, you didn’t want to tell them about it, apart from that the next time they woke up, she would be home. And that was the truth, because you had no doubts that Alexia would go into their rooms to see them, maybe even let them sleep in your bed for the night. 

You were pacing in the hallway, nervously flitting from room to room, making sure it was tidy even though you’d cleaned already and done a hundred once-overs, checking your phone, as you listened out for her arrival. You felt a little ridiculous with how your breathing stuttered every time a car passed by.

And, finally, when the door lock clicked at midnight, the light fluttery feeling in your chest hit its peak, stronger than you ever remember it being.

You froze in the midst of your pacing, in the hallway as the door opened with a creak that always annoyed her, one you never fixed just for moments like this. Your hands fidgeted with the hem of your shirt as she walked in, suitcase dragging behind her, duffel bag landing with a thud beside the shoe rack. She closed the door, shoulders slumped with the exhaustion of travelling, sighed quietly, and lifted her head up at the shuffling sound she heard of your slippers against the wood slats. Then, she gave that easy, lop-sided, quirk of a smile, the one she saved just for you, and you were moving. You didn’t greet her – instead, simply wrapped your arms around her back, hers landing around your neck and pulling you closer to her, if at all possible. A second or two of silence passed, until her soft chuckle was muffled against your hair.

“You missed me?” She hummed teasingly, her voice low and scratchy with tiredness. 

“A little.” Didn’t matter what your reply was, the embarrassingly raw emotion in your tone said it all for you.

Her grin pressed into your cheek as she turned her head, forehead against your temple, like the mere contact of your skin was recharging her soul. It was, if you asked her. 

You pulled back slightly, intending on looking at her, taking in the sight of her home again, but she surged forward to kiss you, foiling your plans as she let out an almost relieved breath against your lips. Her nose brushed yours, and it wasn’t the tidiest one you’d shared, but the way her hand came up to cradle your cheek and the softness that her lips moved with against yours was more than enough. You felt at home again, which was a little silly because you weren’t the one that had left for two weeks. But it was the truth.

“Mami?” 

A sleepy voice from the top of the stairs interrupted you both, your cheeks pink but hidden by the low light of the house bar one corner lamp, the pair of you casting your eyes up to your children staring. Anaís was there, one pant leg rolled up to her knee, most of her hair falling out of her plait. Oriol stood slightly behind her, blanket in one hand and his favourite teddy in the other.

“You are meant to be asleep.” Alexia told them both with a smile, watching as their eyes widened, like they had just processed who they were talking to.

All of sudden, there were two pairs of feet racing down the stairs so fast you thought they were going to fall through them. Anaís approached her at full speed, you hardly having enough warning to move out the way of her, giving Alexia the time to greet her children and brace for impact. Oriol trailed behind a little slower, dazed and confused. He didn’t even know 00:00 existed on a clock.

“Is it morning?” He asked, blinking like he had to think about it. You laughed quietly and shook your head, though he wasn’t at all interested in you, and you couldn’t even be mad about it.

Alexia was crouched down, Anaís wrapped in one arm as she opened the other for a waddling Oriol. He dropped his belongings and walked straight into her arms, half-asleep, adorning a dopey smile when she pulled him into her. She hugged them like she hadn’t seen them in a year, which is understandable when you’re all used to a night or two away. Two weeks in comparison to a precariously built routine that hardly lasts 48 hours feels like a lifetime. 

“You’re really home?” Anaís mumbled, clutching Alexia’s jumper collar in her fist like it was half a threat and half a hope she didn’t disappear again. Oriol watched the brunette’s face keenly, waiting for her answer, like his life depended on it.

“I’m really home.” She murmured in response, kissing their foreheads one after the other. Both of them shuffled closer to her then, trying to get as close as possible, to make up for lost time.

You watched from afar, leaning against the wall, arms crossed and gazing at the reunion of your family. Anaís’ fist didn’t budge, and Oriol clung to her arm, sleepy and clingy. You saw the way Alexia adjusted her hold on him, letting him bury his face in her neck before standing with the pair of them in her arms. She turned to you, a down-turned smile on her face, one that conveyed her adoration for the two tired beings curled into her. Now that she was home, they had settled immediately. The world was back on its tilt, the house no longer felt too big, the chests no longer missing a piece. Everything was right again.

“Go put them to bed. I’ll be down here.” You told her, not wanting to take away her time with them. She nodded, a grateful look in her eye directed towards you. You met it with a smile, then watched as she walked upstairs with two dead-weight children in her arms, hardly breaking a sweat.

Sometimes it did catch you off-guard, how much you missed her when she wasn’t with you, how much you loved her even all these years later. But all you had to do was take one look at her, see the admiration in her eyes when she gazed at her children, see the warmth and wonder she greeted you with every morning, to remember what it was that had you so content in your life. Because even after so much time had passed, she still looked at you like you were the best thing that had ever happened to her.

By the time she came back down, the house was quiet again. No thumps of feet against the floor as Anaís avoided bedtime to show Alexia each and every drawing herself and Oriol had made whilst she was gone, no requests for stories through slurred voices with drooping eyelids. Just the two of you, the hum of the fridge, the flicker of the lamp in the corner, and the gentle thrill of being together again that had your heart skipping still.

“They’re bigger.” She commented as she walked in, eyes fixed solely on you where you waited for her again. She came over to you, and that same fluttery feeling from earlier returned with every step she took.

“They always are when you come back.” 

She looked at you, then squinted a little.

“You okay?” She asked. “You seem… nervous.”

You nod your head, before breaking out into quiet, disbelieving laughter.

“I just… I’m happy you’re home again. I had like… butterflies whilst waiting for you. I have them now.” You admitted, blushing at the ever-so-slightly proud smirk on her face. “It doesn’t even make sense. We’ve been together for… feels like forever. We’ve been apart so many times, for longer than this one, but… I don’t know. I always miss you when you go. Never changes.”

To your surprise, she tilted her head and smiled, before saying, “Of course it makes sense. I always miss you too, so much. I was nervous on the ride here, and walking up to the door. It took me three attempts to get the key in the door.” 

You laughed at that, openly and freely, because you could, because the love of your life was home again, in front of you, indirectly admitting that she still loved you just as much as you loved her.

“I was too nervous to even hear that.” You said, heart clenching at the soft giggle that sounded through the room as a result. 

“I have something to tell you. Something to admit.” She stated, out of nowhere. 

“What is it? Did you leave your passport in the taxi?” That was met with a roll of her eyes and a click of her tongue.

“No, idiota. Come here and I tell you.” Her hand outstretched to take yours, tugging you closer. You stumbled a little, but she caught you, of course she did. Her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight to her, her chin falling to your shoulder, mouth beside your ear. “You’re my best friend.”

You laughed, again, but there were shivers down your spine that told a different story.

“You always say that.” It was true, she did. At random points, like it was a detail of her life she didn’t want to forget, yet also couldn’t believe. 

“Because you are.” She grinned, gummy and full of heart. Then a yawn broke through her romantics, delirious and exhausted giggles spilling from the both of you. “That was a long two weeks.” 

“Without your best friend?” You teased, Alexia humming her amusement.

“Sí, exactly.” She went quiet for a moment, before speaking again. “You really are, you know? I don’t say it to be… funny. I really mean it.” 

Your heart warmed, your cheeks blushed. Again. For the thousandth time since she came home.

“I know.” You whispered, leaning back to leave a kiss to her lips. She held it longer than you planned to, reminding you of exactly what you’d missed. “It was a long two weeks. House isn’t the same without you.” 

Alexia smiled again, though it was slightly fuelled with guilt. Or maybe… regret. Like travelling for football wasn’t something she wanted to do for much longer. But her reply didn’t match the look on her face.

“I hope Anaís and Oriol find someone who loves them like this someday.”

It came out of nowhere, a quiet thing, said with ease like it wasn’t the most profound thing you had ever heard her say. You sat with it for a moment, taking it in, until you realised it had stirred something within you. Not dramatic, not loud, there was no fanfare. Just… a content revelation. 

You didn’t respond initially. You only looked at her, at her profile in the low light, the tiniest quirk of her lip that was always there when she spoke to you, the ease of which her hands rested against your waist. Like they belonged, which they did.

And you thought to yourself, because it was such a profound thing to say, and it wasn’t even really about you. It was about your children and the hope that one day they’ll be loved the way you’ve been loved. Not with grand gestures, but with consistency. A soft, everyday kind of devotion. There in her arms, this revelation of yours grew. It built a home for itself in the back of your mind that won’t move for the rest of your life.

If they find this kind of love, then they’ll be okay.

Even when things get hard for them, when the world demands things you can’t protect them from, when you’re not there to guide them through it. Someone will be. Someone who chooses them over and over, like Alexia does with you. 

You leaned back forward in her arms, inviting yourself into your embrace, which she immediately accepted as her arms tightened around you. There, something within you settled, something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. But something that felt like accomplishment as a parent. 

“You loving me like you do, it’s shown them what to look for. I can’t be so scared for their future when you’ve given them that gift, Ale.” 

That time, it was her turn to be left speechless. 

Her tired mind was too exhausted and sluggish to think of a reply worthy enough to express how much that meant to her. And if she dwelled on it for too long in such a vulnerable state, she might cry. She didn’t have the energy to cry.

“We haven’t done so bad, have we.” She mumbled against your shoulder, her body instinctively letting out a sigh of relief at the comment. Almost like it was confirmation to herself that she had done what she needed to do, both as a parent and a partner. That was all she wished for. Truly.

“I think we’ve done better than we give ourselves credit for.” You hummed, Alexia huffing a breath of laughter. She was minutes away from falling asleep in your arms. 

“We need to go to bed. We’re getting too soft. They will make fun of us if they catch us.” You giggled down her ear, and it echoed in her chest. Sparked the fire there that had dimmed whilst she was gone.

“Younger us would think we’re so lame.”

“Mm, no, not lame. I think they would be proud. We have come a long way.” 

“We have.” You agreed with ease, thinking back on the years that had passed in what felt like just a blink. “But one thing has stayed the same.”

Alexia hummed curiously, eyes most definitely closed as she held you in the middle of the kitchen of the house you’d bought together, the home you’d built.

“I love you.” 

A simple statement that hadn’t missed a day of your relationship. One thing that linked the both of you, all the way back to when you were two nervous, giddy, lovesick but too scared to say so, people that had no idea what the future held. 

Still, it seemed, you were nervous, giddy and lovesick, but now a little older and not afraid to say it. Certainly not afraid to share it with your children. So maybe, on paper things had changed, but in retrospect, a lot was the same. You had grown, individually, and come together to form something that’d last long after death do you part. Your children would carry it, their children would carry it, and so on. You stayed the same people, whilst creating something bigger than the both of you without letting it affect your relationship. That was something not many people could brag about. 

You were sure that, when you were both old, in your sixties, seventies, eighties, and beyond, should life let you, that you most definitely would brag about it. Hell, Alexia already bragged about it. You couldn’t blame her; the life you had made together was the greatest achievement you would ever do. Nothing could compare.

“And I love you.” 

Nothing could compare to that either.

—

i wish i could make this twice as long, that i could include the scenes i had to cut out, and just never end this story but the woso tumblr audience nowadays unfortunately does not Iike such a thing and it would most likely get v boring (as if it isn't too long and boring already lol) there's writers out there that could convey the summary of the final scene in a third of the word count in a single scene, so yes it is unnecessarily long but🤷🏼‍♀️ it was a nice distraction writing it and i'm sad it's come to an end lol. if you got this far, thanks for sticking with it and i hope it was enjoyable <3

[lwwife]

“Marked by You.” - Alexia Putellas x Reader

The tiny bar was lively — neon lights humming, music vibrating through the floorboards, and laughter weaving between tables like smoke.

You sat perched casually at the counter, nursing a drink and entertaining the very charming stranger who had struck up a conversation.

They were funny, you had to admit.

But they weren’t the person you were really waiting for.

“Hey, can I buy you another?” the stranger offered, smiling wide.

Before you could answer, a warm body brushed against your side — and there she was.

Alexia.

Your Alexia.

Her arm slipped casually around your chair, hand ghosting the small of your back in a touch so light it almost wasn’t there. Almost.

The stranger’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second.

“Sorry,” Alexia said, the picture of calm, but her voice had an edge so sharp it could cut glass. “She’s taken.”

You coughed into your drink to hide your grin.

The stranger made a quick, polite excuse and vanished.

Once you were alone, you turned slowly toward Alexia, eyebrows raised, the smile tugging at your lips unstoppable.

“Taken, huh?” you teased, swirling the straw between your fingers.

Her jaw flexed slightly.

“You didn’t look like you were protesting,” she said coolly, but the tightness in her shoulders betrayed her.

You leaned in until your noses almost brushed, keeping your voice light, flirty.

“I don’t remember hearing you ask if you could claim me like that.”

Alexia’s breath hitched — just slightly — her eyes flickering down to your mouth before snapping back up.

Still stubborn, she shrugged.

“I don’t have to ask,” she said simply.

You let the silence stretch, enjoying the way her fingers tapped nervously against the counter.

Finally, you smirked, reaching for her jacket and giving it a playful tug so she stumbled a half-step closer, right into your space.

“No, you don’t,” you agreed softly.

And then, without warning — you kissed her.

Right there.

Right in the middle of the bar.

Slow, deliberate, and full of every single thing she was too stubborn to say out loud.

When you finally pulled back, her lips were parted, her eyes wide and glazed over.

Possessiveness, pride, and something much softer shone in her gaze.

You grinned wickedly and whispered near her ear:

“Next time, cariño… just come claim me sooner.”

Alexia, still a little dazed, finally cracked a real smile — the one that made your chest ache.

“Noted,” she murmured, hands now planted firmly at your waist like she never planned to let go again.

And for the rest of the night, she didn’t.

The apartment door clicked shut behind you, and before you could even flick on the lights, Alexia was on you.

Arms sliding around your waist, face burying into the crook of your neck.

“You liked making me jealous, didn’t you,” she mumbled against your skin, voice low and muffled.

You laughed — soft and delighted — wrapping your arms around her in return.

“You’re cute when you’re territorial,” you teased, brushing your lips against the shell of her ear. “I might have to make a habit out of it.”

Alexia groaned dramatically, pulling you tighter against her.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned — though her grin gave her away.

You smiled, pressing tiny kisses along her temple, her hairline, her cheek.

“Relax, mi amor,” you whispered between kisses. “I’m yours. Always yours.”

Alexia hummed, the sound vibrating warmly between you.

She tilted her head up, finally catching your lips in a slow, lazy kiss — the kind that melted every teasing thought right out of your mind.

When you finally broke apart, she looked at you through heavy-lidded, sleepy eyes, mumbling,

“Good. Now come to bed. I’m not letting you out of my arms tonight.”

And you didn’t argue.

Not when it was the only place you ever wanted to be anyway.

[lwwife]

Not A Date from the broken vows series

The house was finally quiet.

Upstairs, Dolores was reading to Iris in a slow, gentle voice that drifted down the stairs. You couldn’t make out the words, but the cadence was soothing. Nora had stopped giggling ten minutes ago. You pictured her passed out on top of her comforter, tangled in glittery gift bags and torn wrapping paper, still wearing the paper crown someone had handed her during cake.

You stood barefoot in the kitchen, wine in hand, every bone in your body humming with exhaustion. That specific post-birthday-party fatigue: part joy, part chaos hangover, part identity crisis.

Then your phone buzzed on the counter.

@ elliemercer:

So. Did you survive?

You smiled. For the first time today, it wasn’t polite or forced. It just happened.

You:

Barely.

You took a sip of wine. Let it rest on your tongue.

Another buzz.

@ elliemercer:

Do you want to have a drink?

You choked. Actually choked. Set the glass down too hard and backed away from it like it had bitten you.

You stared at your phone for a full five seconds, frozen.

Oh my god.

You turned in a slow circle in the middle of the kitchen.

She saw me today. I had a ‘Birthday Princess’ sticker on my boobs. There was frosting on my sleeve.

You grabbed the fridge handle. Opened it. Closed it. Opened it again and stared at an expired yogurt like it might answer for your entire romantic past.

Okay. It’s just a drink. It’s not a date. Not a thing. Just… a casual beverage.

You paused. Voice quieter.

She’s not Alexia.

Your eyes flicked to the counter. You could still see the knife Alexia used to slice the cake earlier. Her bracelets had clinked against the countertop. She’d looked tired. Focused. Like this wasn’t strange. Like she hadn’t ripped your whole life apart just weeks ago, like cutting cake in your kitchen was still her place to be.

You shook your head, pressing your palms to your cheeks.

No. No, no, no. I haven’t shaved.

Wait. I’m lasered. That’s why I haven’t shaved. I’m smooth like a marble countertop. That’s right. I’m unstoppable.

Wait, why am I thinking that? I’m not having sex with her. Or—maybe I will? No. I’m not.

You:

Where?

The answer came quickly.

@ elliemercer:

I know a bar. I think you’d like it.

Your heart gave a single, measured thump. Not panic. Not fear. Something quieter. Older.

You:

Okay. I’ll meet you there. In 40 minutes?

@ elliemercer:

I’ll be waiting.

You stared at the screen like it might dissolve if you blinked, especially after she shared the name of the place.

Then you bolted into motion.

Upstairs, everything was soft and dark. You passed the girls rooms quietly, stepping lightly. Nora was already out cold, diagonally across her bed, clutching a new toy and drooling a little. You smiled, kissed the top of her head.

Then you crossed to Iris’s room. The door was half-open. A nightlight threw golden, animal-shaped shadows on the walls. Dolores sat on the edge of the bed, one hand resting gently on Iris’s back, a book closed on her lap. She looked up as you stepped in.

I’m heading out, you whispered.

Dolores gave you a slow once-over, taking in your bare feet, your tangled hair, the wild panic probably still leaking from your eyes. She didn’t ask. Just nodded.

You leaned down, kissed Iris’s forehead. Her breath was warm. She made a small, content sound and rolled onto her side.

Thank you, you whispered.

Dolores smiled softly. Have fun.

You slipped out of the room, pulled the door almost shut, and padded into your bedroom.

The closet lights flicked on as you stepped in. Everything looked too polished—too calm compared to the chaos in your chest.

You reached for the black high-waisted jeans. The ones that fit just right, hugging all the places that needed hugging. Then pulled on the soft black off-the-shoulder top, the one that made your collarbone look like something worth photographing.

You stood in front of the mirror and tried different earrings. Sprayed perfume—wrists, neck. Changed your bag twice before settling on the small black baguette slung effortlessly over your shoulder. Slipped on silver heels that gleamed even in the closet light.

You looked in the mirror one last time. Hair loose. Lips tinted. Skin flushed with adrenaline and maybe fear.

Okay. I look like someone who forgot how to flirt but accidentally put together a really hot outfit.

A notification buzzed, it’d the car you had requested. Marco. Black BMW.

You clicked off the lights and tiptoed downstairs, heels now clicking softly against the hardwood. You didn’t call out again. Just opened the door and stepped into the night.

The car was parked by the curb, windows slightly fogged, headlights dimmed. You crossed the lawn slowly, heart rattling in your ribs like it was trying to warn you.

You pulled the door open, slid in, gave the driver your best attempt at casual.

The city moved around you. Lights flashing past the windows. Perfume rising from your skin. Pulse steady but sharp.

You leaned your head back and whispered, not to the driver, not even to yourself really—just to the space.

What the hell am I doing?

[lwwife]

16 going on 28 // leah williamson

a/n : so sorry about my month long hiatus, but i am back!!! and i’ve got you guys some leah x gobby!reader but reader is now carrying leah’s baby! pls let me know if you’d like a part two because i deeply enjoyed writing this one.

warnings : suggestive, pregnancy, reader being a shitbag, and this is so cute i almost cried beavyse i am so single

“We’ve got a problem,” you announce gravely.

Leah groans, face buried back into the pillow. “If this is about the toast being too crispy again—”

“It’s burnt, Leah. There’s a difference.”

Leah peeks at you, a smirk creeping across her face. “You literally asked for it ‘extra golden.’”

“That’s not the same as setting it on fire, is it?” You huff, waddling dramatically back towards the kitchen, belly leading the way. “Honestly, it’s like living with a pyromaniac.”

Leah finally drags herself out of bed, following the trail of muttered complaints. She wraps her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“Morning, love,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

You try to maintain the façade of being very cross, but your face betrays you, lips twitching.

“Don’t think you can seduce me out of my rage, Williamson.”

“Oh, I definitely can,” she murmurs, kissing the spot behind your ear—the spot she knows drives you mad.

You shiver despite yourself, turning in her arms. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

“God, it’s embarrassing how right you are.”

After training, the team lounges around, trying to relax. You waddle into the room, plopping down next to Leah with an exaggerated sigh.

“Leah,” you announce dramatically, “your child is ruining my life.”

Leah doesn’t even look up from her phone. “You mean our child.”

“No, because my child would’ve had better manners.” You rub your belly with mock disapproval. “This one’s clearly yours—rude as hell, keeping me up all night.”

The team snickers, already used to your daily monologues of suffering.

Beth pipes up, grinning, “Didn’t you literally say yesterday that you ‘loved being pregnant’?”

“That was before I sneezed and peed a little, Beth.”

The room erupts into laughter. Leah finally looks up, shaking her head with a fond smile. She reaches over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re beautiful when you’re ranting.”

You squint at her. “I’m beautiful all the time, but thanks for noticing.”

Leah leans in, her voice low. “Especially when you’re moaning.”

The room goes silent.

“OH MY GOD,” Viv groans, covering her face with her hands. “Can’t we have one conversation without you two flirting like teenagers?”

“No,” you and Leah respond in unison, both grinning like idiots.

You’re both in Tesco, which was Leah’s first mistake because pregnancy has turned you into an unfiltered, walking hazard.

“I want crisps,” you declare, standing in front of the snack aisle.

Leah, already holding three bags, sighs. “Babe, you’ve got enough crisps to feed the whole team.”

“Well, the team isn’t carrying a small human and emotional trauma, are they?” You grab another bag, tossing it dramatically into the cart. “These are for survival.”

Leah snickers, steering the cart like she’s driving a getaway car.

At checkout, the cashier glances at your growing belly. “Aw, when are you due?”

Before Leah can answer, you deadpan, “Oh, I’m not pregnant. I just like snacks.”

Leah chokes on her own spit, trying to stifle her laughter while the poor cashier looks like she’s about to evaporate from awkwardness.

Outside, Leah doubles over, tears in her eyes. “You’re evil.”

You grin, proud. “I keep you entertained.”

She pulls you in for a quick kiss, her laughter fading into something softer. “I keep you loved.”

Your heart squeezes, but you cover it with a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Now carry the bags, I’m fragile.”

Later that evening, you’re sprawled on the couch, Leah sitting between your legs, massaging your swollen feet.

“You know,” she murmurs, fingers kneading gently, “pregnancy suits you.”

You snort. “Yeah? I’m sweaty, swollen, and have heartburn from drinking water, Leah.”

She leans back, her eyes dark with something warmer, deeper. “Still the fittest person I’ve ever seen.”

You arch a brow, biting your lip. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m growing your child.”

Leah shifts, her hand sliding up your leg, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Nah. I fancied you even when you were just a gobshite with an attitude problem.”

You grin, pulling her closer until your faces are inches apart. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve still got the attitude.”

She kisses you softly at first, then deeper, her hands cradling your face like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

When you finally pull back, breathless and grinning, you whisper, “Still whipped, huh?”

Leah presses her forehead against yours, her smile soft and full of love. “More than ever.”

later, kettle whistles in the background, but you’re too busy glaring at Leah to care. She’s leaning against the kitchen counter with that smug grin—the one that says she thinks she’s hilarious—while you sit on the couch, belly protruding like a smug reminder of your current, swollen state.

“I swear to God, Leah,” you huff, struggling to adjust the blanket around you, “if you make one more joke about me ‘waddling,’ I’m throwing your protein powder in the bin.”

Leah snorts, unapologetically stirring her tea. “You do realise you’ve married an athlete? Go ahead baby, i’ll get another fifty packs shipped to our door tomorrow.”

You narrow your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself. “Don’t test me. I’m hormonal, hungry, and hot. Triple H—but not the sexy wrestler kind.”

Leah bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her tea. “Triple H? You’re such an idiot.”

“Oh, I’m the idiot? Says the woman who wore her very new very expensive white trainers, which i did tell you was a bad idea, in the rain last week and then acted shocked when they got dirty.”

She walks over, still grinning, and plops down beside you. “At least I can still see my feet.”

You gasp, mock-offended. “I’m growing a human, Williamson. What’s your excuse for that forehead?”

Leah nearly chokes on her tea, coughing and laughing simultaneously. “You’re so mean,” she wheezes, eyes crinkling with affection.

You roll your eyes but lean into her anyway. “Yeah, well, you love it.”

She presses a kiss to your temple, her hand instinctively resting on your belly. “I really do.”

The team is gathered in the lounge of a hotel post match, and you’ve made the grave mistake of standing up too quickly.

“Ugh,” you groan dramatically, gripping your back. “I feel like I’ve aged 40 years in nine months.”

Beth smirks from across the room. “You sound like it too.”

You flip her off without missing a beat. “Didn’t ask for commentary, Bethany.”

The girls burst into laughter. Leah watches, amused, shaking her head.

“I don’t know how you survive,” Beth says to Leah, chuckling.

Leah shrugs, biting back a grin. ”it’s character-building.”

You glare at her. “Character-building? Please. You’re lucky to have me.”

Leah saunters over, wraps an arm around your shoulders, and kisses your cheek. “Yeah, I am.”

The team groans in unison. “Get a room!”

You stick your tongue out like a child. “Jealousy’s a disease. Get well soon.”

Leah wakes up to you standing over her with a look of pure desperation.

“I need ice cream,” you whisper like it’s a life-or-death situation.

Leah squints at the clock. “It’s 3 AM.”

“And the ice cream won’t buy itself.”

Fifteen minutes later, she’s standing in the kitchen, hair a mess, wearing mismatched socks, scooping ice cream into a bowl.

She hands it to you with a tired smile. “Happy?”

You take a bite, sigh dramatically, then look at her with faux seriousness. “You’re lucky you’re fit.”

Leah laughs, leans down, and kisses you softly. “Yeah. And you’re lucky I’m whipped.”

[lwwife]

My brave lady (Leah Williamson x pregnant!reader)

Summary: Leah's first game back from injury. The night before she cannot sleep because of her nerves and she needs a cuddle.

Disclaimer: my first fanfiction, hope you will like it. Also, english is my second language so please be kind xxxx

You woke up middle of the night. You've been waking up a lot lately because of your pregnancy. Suddenly you notice that no one's lying next to you and there's a light on in the kitchen.

You put on your bathrobe and go see what's going on. Even though you can guess. Leah, as much as she didn't want to let it show, had been nervous about getting back on the pitch. Tomorrow is her first match after injury.

On the one hand, you were glad that Leah was home for the last few weeks so you could experience your pregnancy intensely together. On the other hand, you know how much your wife loves being on the pitch, hearing the fans, wearing the Arsenal jersey and everything about being a football star.

As her teammate, now on maternity leave, you knew that feeling too. But for Leah, football meant even more. As she always says: Football is not the most important thing in my life, that's my wife y/n. But thanks to football, I met her.

You entered your small and cozy kitchen. Leah was there, sitting on the chair, staring absently at the table. You rubbed her back gently and kissed her top of the head. Than you sat next to and pulled her closer. Leah buried her head into your chest. No words were needed. You began to gently stroke her head and softly kiss her hair.

"Honey, don't worry about tomorrow. You will make it. Remember how nervous you were before your first training? And you did amazing job," you said, meanwhile Leah hugged you tightly.

"I know honey, I just...I can't sleep. I know, training after my injury were pretty smooth but still...there will be people tomorrow. What if...what if I won't be as good as I used ti be?" said Leah, shaking her voice a little.

That was your sweet Leah. On the public, she was though player, captain of England and looked that there is anything she can't handle. But home, she was your sweet and soft darling wife, who constantly supplied you with enormous amounts of love and tenderness. You and now not born yet daughter. You both decided named her Josephine because your shared love for The Little Women.

"Arsenal fans love you honey. They missed you as much as you missed them and they can't wait to see you again. And I will be there here, watching you. Both of us. Being incredibly proud of our baby mamma. How brave she is." you told Leah holding her hand.

Leah smiled softly, protectively stroke your baby bumb and then kissing it. "I love you so much. Both of my lovely girls." said Leah while soft kissing you and your belly. "How is our bubba Jo?"

"Jo is doing fine, but her little kicks woke me up." you confessed.

"You sweet lady bug, let your mummy sleep." Leah said to your belly, can't stop cuddling with it. You could tell she was feeling a little better. "Can't wait to having our little girl here with us," she smiled.

You pulled her closer, kissing her forehead. "Let`s go to the bed, pretty girl. You need to get a good night's sleep for tomorrow," you said, grabbing your wife's hand.

Leah made her puppy eyes you used to see a lot. "Ok, but little bed cuddles will make me sleep better," she laughted.

You laught, grabbing her softy and hug her like a big spoon. "Ok, that`s a deal."