#alexia patellas x reader

[pers1st]

dancing with the devil - alexia putellas x reader

pairing: alexia x singer!reader

warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol

Meeting Alexia hadn't been an accident. If anything, meeting anyone, for you, was an accident, because more often than not, people were screaming into your face, demanding pictures and autographs and spinning theories about your private life that you were pretty sure could be considered conspiracies.

You hadn't intended, however, to meet Alexia. And she hadn't intended to meet you. The first time you'd seen the Catalonian woman had been on Keira's instagram. Your lifelong best friend and childhood neighbor was the only reason you were interested in women's football - or sports in general. You'd never shared your father's passion, or joined the local team like your brother had. If it wasn't for Keira, you would have no ties to the sport whatsoever, and even this way, you grew annoyed every time the strawberry blonde and her insufferably confident girlfriend tried to explain the offside rules to you.

Still, you followed Keira's life everywhere she went, and although you hadn't been happy with her move to Barcelona, you had forgiven her the minute you'd spotted the Catalonian woman on the sidelines.

Keira had warned you, but really, she should've warned Alexia. You enjoyed the lifestyle that came with being a singer, relished in parties and one-night-stands and rebounds that Keira doomed forbidden. More often than not, she'd threatened to hang up on your FaceTime call when you'd phoned her from London to tell her about your latest hookup. But Keira, as different as the two of you were, was still your best friend, and so she listened to every word you said, or sung, and was your number one supporter. This wasn't missed by her new teammates, who started following your socials the second Keira had first shared the promo picture of your new album. That's when Alexia had followed you. Keira should've warned her then, but a few years down the line, you were glad she hadn't. Because what was supposed to be a bed for you to spend a night in when you next visited Keira and Lucy in Barcelona blossomed into your second home, and the woman who was supposed to be yet another hookup blossomed into your girlfriend.

You had spent the past year somewhere between London, New York and Barcelona, desperate to spend time with Alexia, Leah and your producers all at the same time. The fans had quickly taken notice of your and Alexia's relationship, although, to be honest, not one of you had tried to hide anything. Alexia was easy, Alexia was simple, and most importantly, Alexia was safe. She was the one to ground you whenever you struggled with your mental health, whenever you were overwhelmed with pressure, anxiety, or any emotion alike.

But a few months ago, with Alexia's return to the pitch, the World Cup and the crippling pressure to perform, at all time, that grasped your every cell, things had taken a turn for the worst.

You were on tour, and had witnessed the public abuse of Alexia and her teammates via FaceTime and instagram, trying your hardest to console the captain as best as you could from so many miles away. It hadn't been an easy task, and with the everlasting rehearsals, concerts and afterparties, you had neglected to take care of yourself.

Drinking was easy when you had the excuse of missing your girlfriend. Using was easy when you had the excuse of just living a little.

Nothing was easy now, as you stood in your girlfriend's flat in Barcelona, the woman halting across from you.

"I'm... home", she breathed, taking in her surroundings. There was no way to hide the bags packed behind you, the way you were still wearing your shoes despite the fact that Alexia had taken so much time to drill the habit of taking them off at the doorstep, the way you seemed to be ready to leave when you had just come home.

"What is going on?", she asked, dropping her bag with a soft thud. Alexia had expected you on the couch, with a mug of tea in your hands, in her sweatpants and fluffy socks, just the way you liked during the colder months. She had expected you to be nuzzled under a blanket, perhaps napping as she knew the jet lag robbed you of energy whenever you took the plane from the States to Spain.

"I'm leaving", you breathed, staring into her face blankly. You tried to remember. Tried to take in every dimple, every freckle, the color of her eyes and the baby hairs that were flying off her hairline. If you could have, you would have taken a picture. You had so many pictures of Alexia in your phone, ranging from ones to her sleeping, from her at training, from her during matches, from her at dates you took her on or standing in the crowd of your concerts. They were never going to be enough - realistically, you knew that. But, realistically, you could never forget Alexia either, no matter how much time you would spend away from her.

Alexia looked confused. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she opened her mouth and closed it again. Her lips looked like she had been picking them, the way she always did when she was stressed, but you wanted to kiss them anyways.

Her feet guided her into the kitchen, walking straight past you as she inspected the apartment. She noticed your favorite mug - one that she had given you for Christmas last year - wasn't where it usually stood next to her favorite mug. Why would you take your mug? You never took your mug when you went away from her, to concerts or recording sessions or award galas.

If she looked any closer, she might've noticed the broken handle of it laying next to the trash can. The dish had been sent to the floor when you had frantically grabbed at it, desperate to leave the flat before your girlfriend came home, and shattered into a million peace. Each one of it was tucked in a plastic bag in your suitcase, but you had forgotten the handle. Alexia didn't notice. Her eyes were back on you.

"What are you talking about?", she asked. In that moment, you were grateful more than ever that Alexia had taken the longer route to grab your favorite sushi from the one restaurant on the other side of the town, the only one you liked, because it had given you enough time to pack everything before she came home. You had almost been out the door - you had put your shoes and coat on already, leaving your favorite scarf, the pink one that she liked to wear, in the hallway.

"I'm so sorry." Your voice was barely above a whisper, and you had to tear your eyes away from her, down to your dirty sneakers, when you felt your lips wobble. If you took another glance at Alexia, you would cry.

The handle of your suitcase was cold as you gripped it tightly, bending down to pick up the bag still on the ground.

"I'm so sorry, Alexia."

It wasn't just another statement one said during a breakup without any meaning. You truly meant it. You truly were sorry. In the past months, both yours and Alexia's life had spiraled completely, and although you had been there for her as best as you could have, and lost yourself in the process. The shell of a person that was left of you was nowhere close to what Alexia deserved. You weren't sorry for leaving her, you were sorry for the person you had become, and you were sorry you couldn't be the person for Alexia anymore. You couldn't be her loving girlfriend anymore, the one that loved her endlessly, that made her laugh, that took her worries away with soft kisses and whispered nothings. You couldn't be the person to make her happy anymore. If Alexia took a closer look at you, maybe she would notice your blown pupils, the redrimmed eyes of yours, the bags beneath them. Maybe she would notice the amount of weight you lost, the leftovers of white powder beneath your nose, maybe she would've noticed how broken you were.

You didn't give her the chance, instead tearing your gaze away from her and shuffling towards the door with soft steps, desperate not to ruin her hardwood floor with the crunch of broken glass and splashes of alcohol on your dirty shoes.

You heard Alexia cry behind you, heard her pleas for you to stay, heard her questions, her yells, but you were out of the flat quicker than she could've pulled you back. The air of Barcelona hit you colder than it had before, and a part of you wished you would've worn the pink scarf, knowing it would've kept you warm and smelled of Alexia's perfume.

The black SUV was still parked right next to her driveway the way you had instructed Lois, your driver, to wait. He didn't ask a single question as you slammed the bags into the backseat, following in shortly after, tears streaming down your face. You needed to leave. You were doing the right thing. Alexia would realize it, at one point.

17th December, 2023:

Breaking news: British singer Y/N Y/L/N's summer tour cancelled after drug overdose.

notes:

there goes my first oneshot! please let me know what you think and also if you want a pt2 bc i have so much more in mind about thus story :)