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mbsneur · 1 month ago
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5 in a row
Alexia Putellas x Reader
Summary: you give alexia what she wants after she wins the world championship
WC: 2,5
Warnings: Smut18+, Cunnilingus, multiple orgasmn , strap using- reader-receiving,rough sex,
My Masterlist
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Hello, lovely readers! I hope you enjoy this story, even if it's not my best work. I'm always open to feedback, wishes, or questions, so please don't hesitate to write me a request. For more information, you can check my masterlist. I'm truly grateful to everyone who reads my work.
I have a feeling that not many people are seeing my work or my fics, and that they're not getting much attention. I've noticed this with several other writers, too. Do you know why that is? I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas on how I can improve! And please, have fun reading! 😊
and that's how it is. spain is world champion. your girlfriend is world champion.
You party all night, you walk the streets of Australia, you haven't seen Alexia this happy in a long time.
You're happy for the chicas, it's what they wanted the most, so all the promises came true, and so your promise was "if you become world champion, I'm all yours" were your words, of course you belong to Alexia, but you meant it in a different way.
She was kept from keeping her promise most of the time you were partying and now you are all having lunch together most of you are tired and forced to be there.
When you finally wanted to leave, Alexia was stopped again: "You have a meeting to attend, ale lo siento, I don't want to stress you any more today, but it will be quick," her manager tells her expressively, and Alexia sighs and rolls her eyes: "How long will it take?" she asks annoyed, "an hour at the most," her manager replies, "I'll go first, please be right there," she adds.
Alexia turns to you and comes closer. "I'm gonna fuck you senseless. Don't worry, neña. I'll hurry," she whispers into your ear. You feel her warm breath on your pulse point and sigh against her. She moves away from you and winks at you before she leaves.
//
Time has passed, you saw with the others in the hotel lobby.
Alexia came.
"the superstar is back aye" oihane shouts across the room and alexia blushes slightly she comes over to you she leans down and gives you a soft kiss on the cheek "do you want to go upstairs?" she whispers as you walk past and you nod gently at her alexia starts to light up "The superstar is leaving, I have to do some things," she says playfully to Oihane and everyone looks at her as she pulls you up by your hand, "Do what you couldn't do with y/n for 3 weeks because she had to be able to walk somehow," Jenni shouts playfully and laughs out loud, She gets a playful slap from Misa.
alexia rolls her eyes slightly as you walk towards the elevator
//
alexia presses you against the door her lips are all over your neck your hands are tangled in her hair the air is thick alexia kisses you with so much hunger and lust
Her strong hands press firmly into your ribs, and you let out a deep, gasp. She nibbles at your skin, making sure she marks what belongs to her. Her tongue extends and licks a long strip from the end of your neck to your ear and licks at the shell of your ear. You squirm, and she giggles. "Use me, do what you want with me, but please let me forget my own name," you moan breathlessly.
Alexia stops nibbling on your neck to look at you, her pupils get bigger and she looks at you with her head tilted, her eyes full of fire, her hands literally itch because they miss your pussy so much "do you want that amore" she asks, her voice getting rough "yes please" you answer.
"I need you. I've missed you so much," you say, your head leaning against the door. Your eyes are small and glassy, and you are so wet. You're sure your underwear is ruined. She grabs you by your hips again and leads you to the bed. She sits down and taps her lap to make you realize that you should sit down.
As you sit on her lap, you put your hands on her neck and pull her towards you for an intimate kiss. She sucks on your tongue, your kisses are messy and wet. Her hands, move up to your tits and take them in her hand. You moan softly into her mouth and start rubbing yourself on her. Your hips rock against her, and her hands knead your tits.
She can feel your hard nipples through your bra, and it makes her whimper. You have a hard time kissing her back, One of her hands reaches your ass and gives you a light slap, and you moan out loud. You reach for her hand and guide it to your waistband. "Don't waste time," you say. "Please, Ale, I beg you. I need you so much." You moan, and Alexia's hand slides into your pants.
She teases your hole and you rock your hips against her hand. She has stopped kissing you and puts her forehead against yours. "Please don't tease me," you say, whimpering. Alexia gives you what you need and lets her finger slide into your hole. "fuck, you are so tight," she says, moaning and swallowing hard.
You are trying to block out the sounds that you are making by burying yourself in Alexia's neck.
She grabs your hair and yanks you forward, saying, "Stop hiding your noises. I don't care if everyone hears you." She then inserts another finger into your hole, making you moan and lean back as you ride her fingers.
"I've missed this so much," you say, and Alexia smiles at you. She speeds up with her fingers and hits your G-spot exactly. You kiss her neck, which makes her put her head to the side. You suck and lick her skin. Her fingers curl, and her palm hits your clitoris perfectly with every thrust.
"babe i'm getting closer," you whisper moaning against her sensitive skin "come whenever you need to," her words burst like fireworks in your belly, your teeth biting into her neck as your walls tighten around her thick fingers, your legs pressing tightly against her side and with a muffled whimper the orgasm you've been waiting for so long comes.
She turns you around so that you land on your back on the bed. She climbs on top of you and spreads little kisses on your face. "Put your arms over your head," she says in a soft voice, and you do as you are told. She pushes up your shirt and her eyes widen. She teases your belly by spreading wet kisses on it. Your skin twitches with every touch of her lips.
"You wanna be good?," she says against your stomach before coming up and pulling your shirt over your head, practically drooling at the sight of your hard nipples "I want to be your good girl," you say embarrassed and Alexia gives you a familiar smile and caresses your cheek lovingly.
Her hands ran along the waistband of your pants before she finally took them off completely. You helped her by kicking your pants off with your feet. Despite the stress she's been under, Alexia is relaxed. You've never seen her so relaxed during sex.
She knelt in front of the bed and took your thighs in her hands, pulling you closer to her. You were so wet that Alexia moaned at your smell. She moved her mouth to your core, sucking on your clitoris. "God ale," you moaned, looking down at her. She alternated between licking and sucking on your clitoris.
your hand reaches for her hair to pull her closer to you, your head dropped into your shoulder. Alexia let go of you with a popp "i said keep your hands above your head venga lie back down" she snapped at you, her forehead furrowed, and her eyebrows knitted together. You dropped down annoyed that you couldn't watch her "stop bitching" she added and her head went back to your pussy she teased your entrance before shooting her tongue inside you
Your back arches in response to her touch, and you perceive her smile against your skin. As she engages in oral intercourse with you, her nose makes contact with your clitoris, and her tongue moves in a rapid, deliberate manner. You experience a sensation of thickened blood in your veins, and the inability to move your hands intensifies your arousal.
your eyes roll back into your head as you feel the knot in your stomach again your legs close around her head and shake "fuck ale you're driving me crazy" you whimper feeling your pulse quicken, her tongue still in your hole she feels you coming closer your walls twitch around her tongue "you can cum I want to feel you baby" she says letting go of you for a moment
Your legs are moving and your back is bending throughout your orgasm. She's overstimulating you. You're trying to squirm, "A short break, please," but Alexia doesn't listen. Your body slides backwards to get away from her, but she gets up, grabs your legs, and pulls you to the edge of the bed. Two fingers poke into your hole, and her tongue lands right on your clit again.
You let out a scream and a few tears as she continues to pump into you at a relentless pace. Your legs are still shaking, and your clit is pressed tightly between her lips. She sucks with the expertise of a world champion, and your body shakes, your hips wiggle, and you moan, "Cumming again." You add, "Fuck,fuck" and claw at the bed.
you cum with a deep cry, you see stars. You haven't even noticed alexia let go of you, her lips swollen and wet, her fingers soaked in your cum, she laughs dazed.
"Ready for my strap," she grins mischievously and winks at you, "do I have a choice," you say sarcastically, "not really," she laughs back and gets up to go to her suitcase, she has brought the longest one, "for special occasions," she points out.
//
she climbed on top of you, "please" you blink at her you have recovered a bit from your previous orgasms. "please what?" she asks stupidly "fuck me" you say with rolling eyes
You look into her hazel eyes as she guides her cock to the perfect spot to penetrate you with a muffled moan. She's inside you now. She kisses you, your tongues playing with each other. Your cunt clutches her cock. You take her in completely.
"your cock feels so good babe" you grunt as alexia looks down to see the toy sliding into you. Your hands scratching her clothed back you moan into her neck you love this closeness her warmth
she accelerated and the sound of skin slapping echoed through the room, her hips dug into yours. Your breath caught, your throat constricted you moaned her name over and over. Her energy is so boundless she could pound you into the mattress all day like this
her breath is hot on your neck "i'm so close" you moan, as alexia looks at you "yeah? cum for me show me how much you want it" she says moaning as she gets faster lifting your legs over her shoulder to get deeper inside you, your moans become breathless. You feel like you are being kicked off you cum breathlessly and without a sound
alexia grabs your hips to pull you onto your stomach, she pulls you onto all fours. Your legs are shaking you can barely hold on „I can't fuck..." you cry as she pushes further into you "don't cry you can take another one I know you can" alexia says moaning grabbing your hips to pump harder into you
"that's it look at you such a slut for me aren't you? close again" she says after she circles your clitoris tightly you literally see stars
your head presses deeper into the mattress with each bump, the bed hits the wall. You are sure the whole hotel can hear "do you want to cum? shall I give you what you want?" she asks whimpering "words baby" she adds "yes please am so fucking close" you sputter out
"good girl cum for me" alexia says and after a few thrusts you come again alexia pushes you away so that you land on your back your face is all fucked up you can't think straight your vision is blurred all you can see is the mattress giving way as alexia kisses your torso
"you were so good baby I love you" she says caringly "can I get you something?" she adds "just stay with me“
„i love you too“
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helen-with-an-a · 6 days ago
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Hi, if I may request!
Barca team x teen reader [19] where R has started dating someone, maybe older then her by a year or so but decided not to tell the team because they can be -Too scary- and scare her girlfriend off but they figure it out after they see R out with the Girl, multiple times.
And after one of the matches they catch them before R could Leave and decide to give R's girlfriend 'The Talk' but like she's not scared and actually wins them over.
Change whatever you'd like :) Thank you!
I've changed this slightly but I think the concept is still the same. I wanted to make it someone within the team and I went with Patri because ... she's Patri. They don't have the talk in the conventional sense but I think its still good. I think this is kinda cute but also kinda funny. I hope you enjoy.
Older
Patri Guijarro x Reader; Barça Femeni x Reader
Description: Patri and R are concerned that the team will disapprove of their relationship. Who would have thought they would be exposed by a bra?
Word Count: 3.7k
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You were 20 years old, and it was vital to emphasise this detail. Despite your age, which indicated that you were fully capable of managing your own affairs and making responsible decisions, the team often seemed to overlook it. This was especially apparent in interactions involving your partners.
Your personal preferences were well-defined. You had a particular type when it came to attraction, and it was almost a given that older women would capture your interest. In bustling, dimly lit clubs, your eyes would naturally seek out women who had a few more years of life experience, particularly those with dark hair. The dynamic of your attraction was often reciprocal – any older brunette who showed even the faintest sign of interest in you would frequently end up being the one to take you home after a night out. This pattern, though seemingly casual, was a significant part of your social interactions and personal experiences.
That was until Patri caught your eye. You weren’t quite sure what shifted in you, but something was undeniably different. You had known her for well over a year at this point, but until now, she had always been a teammate, a friend. Maybe it was the alcohol, loosening the usual boundaries and inhibitions. Maybe it was the way she smiled at you with an easy grace as you handed her another drink, her eyes holding a warmth that made you feel seen. Or maybe it was the way she kept glancing at your lips as you sang along to some song whose lyrics you only half understood, her gaze lingering in a way that made your heart race.
It was during a brief hiatus from international commitments, a period when the usual whirlwind of club games came to a halt. You were dealing with a minor injury that kept you off the field, and Patri … she didn’t answer her call ups anymore. You had started the evening with the other teammates who were also free from international obligations. The night had begun with light-hearted conversations and the clinking of glasses, but it quickly evolved into something more intense. As the night wore on, you found yourself gravitating toward Patri. The connection you felt with her seemed to intensify with each shared drink and every stolen glance. The casual flirtation of earlier in the evening became more charged, more electric.
Before long, you ended up underneath Patri, her nimble fingers leading you to the brink of pleasure again and again. The way she touched you, with a mix of tenderness and urgency, was unlike anything you had ever experienced. It felt like a dance of its own – a rhythm that resonated with something deep inside you. For her, it might have seemed like just another one-night stand, a fleeting moment of passion with someone she had always seen as a friend and teammate.
Yet, beneath the surface, Patri was grappling with her own emotions. Was it risky to cross that line with someone she worked closely with, someone she would have to face day in and day out after this? Absolutely. But the way her heart soared when you smiled at her, the way your touch made her feel alive in a way that no one else had before, was impossible to ignore. In those moments, when the world outside seemed to fade away and it was just the two of you, the usual concerns and boundaries seemed insignificant compared to the intensity of what she was feeling.
As the night drew to a close, and the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, the two of you lay together, breaths mingling and hearts still racing. The aftermath of such an encounter left both of you in a state of introspection. For you, it was a realisation that the connection with Patri went beyond mere attraction – it was something deeper, something that had the potential to redefine the dynamics of your relationship with her. For Patri, it was an unexpected awakening, a challenge to her preconceived notions of friendship and romance.
You had entered her bed one night, and never left. The following more … well, more like early afternoon … she found you at her stove top, your hair piled up on top of your head, one of her t-shirts covering your body. You had presented her with a pile of pancakes, made with a secret family recipe that she had tried to coerce out of you with the promises of going back to her bedroom. The day had bled slowly into the night and once again, you were wrapped up in her arms. It was a cycle that neither of you wanted to end.
You had both agreed that you would not be sharing this particular development with the team. She was well aware of the overprotective nature of some members, and she quite valued her life. You had laughed, a musical sound that made Patri’s heart flutter before agreeing to whatever she wanted.
That didn’t stop the team from prying though.
Alexia couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she was certain that something was different about you. There was an unusual, almost otherworldly glow surrounding you, a gentle radiance that seemed to emanate from within. It was as though you carried a secret warmth that made you stand out from everyone else.
Your smile, too, had changed. Where it once had been rare and fleeting, you now wore a soft, almost perpetual smile that seemed to touch every aspect of your demeanour. It was as if you had discovered a new layer of contentment or joy that was reflected in your constant, serene expression.
You were always on the quieter side during training; the pressure to perform well and the worry of constant scrutiny were always on your mind. But lately, there was a noticeable shift. The intense focus and anxiety that had once characterised your approach seemed to have softened. You approached your training sessions with a newfound ease and confidence, as if you had found a balance between your inner strength and outer performance. It was almost as if the weight of expectation had lifted, allowing you to focus more on the joy of the practice itself rather than just the results.
Outside the walls of the training ground, however, the transformation was even more striking. You always had a level of confidence to you, but it was still reserved. But now exuded a vibrant energy that matched the exuberance of Cata or Pina. Your laughter was more frequent, your conversations more animated. You were more willing to join in on spontaneous adventures and social gatherings, embracing life with a zeal that was both infectious and heartwarming.
“Something is different with Nena,” Alexia announced to Mapí and Ingrid. Her voice carried a note of curiosity, mingled with the faintest trace of concern.
Mapí glanced up from the book she was pretending to read, her brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean? She seems fine to me. Maybe even better than fine – she’s been in a great mood lately."
Ingrid, who had been stretching on the floor, paused mid-stretch and looked over at Alexia with a thoughtful expression. "I noticed it too. She's... different. Calmer, maybe? Happier, for sure."
Alexia nodded, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed as she considered her next words. "It's not just that she's happier. It's like she's changed on a deeper level. She used to be so on edge during training, always overthinking, stressing out. But now... I don’t know, she’s just glowing. She’s more confident, more open. And have you seen how she’s interacting with people? It's like she's suddenly unlocked this whole new part of herself."
Mapí closed her book, giving up the pretence. "Yeah, she's been more involved lately. She used to stay quiet or just follow along with whatever we were doing, but now she’s right there with us, cracking jokes, coming up with ideas. It’s like she’s finally letting herself have fun."
Ingrid nodded again, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It's a good change, though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this relaxed. Whatever it is, it seems to be working for her."
Alexia sighed, though it was more of a release of tension than a sign of worry. "I know, I’m happy for her. But I can’t help wondering what brought this on. It’s like she’s had some kind of breakthrough, and I just wish I knew what it was."
“Brought what on?” Patri asked, coming to stand next to the trio.
“Nena is different,” Alexia answered. Patri froze, her eyes widening imperceptibly. Shit, did they know?
For a split second, Patri’s mind raced. She struggled to keep her expression neutral, to not let the panic she felt bubbling up inside show on her face. Had they somehow discovered the secret you had been carefully keeping? Or was this just idle curiosity, a harmless observation?
She forced herself to take a slow, steadying breath before speaking. "Different how?" Patri asked, hoping her voice sounded as casual as she intended.
Mapí leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studied Patri. "She’s just... more relaxed, more confident. Like something has shifted in her. It’s a good thing, we’re just curious about what might have caused it."
Patri nodded slowly, her mind scrambling for a plausible explanation. She knew she had to tread carefully; one wrong word, and the others might start asking questions that neither she nor you were ready to answer.
"Maybe she’s just finally found her groove," Patri suggested, hoping to steer the conversation in a more benign direction. "You know how it is – sometimes everything just clicks, and you start feeling more comfortable in your own skin."
Ingrid seemed to consider this, nodding slightly. "Yeah, that makes sense. She’s been working really hard, so maybe she’s just more confident now that she’s seeing the results."
Alexia, however, wasn’t entirely convinced. "Maybe. But it feels like more than that. Like there’s something else going on. I just hope she knows she can talk to us if she needs to."
Patri’s heart pounded in her chest, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "I’m sure she does. We’re all close, and she knows we’ve got her back."
Mapí leaned back in her chair, seemingly satisfied with Patri’s explanation. "Yeah, you’re probably right. Whatever it is, I’m glad she’s doing well. She deserves to be happy."
"Oh please, you guys cannot be that dense," Cata interrupted. "She’s having regular sex."
The room went silent for a moment as Cata’s blunt statement hung in the air. Patri’s breath caught in her throat, and she fought to keep her face from betraying the shock coursing through her. She hadn’t anticipated this turn, and her mind scrambled for a way to deflect the situation.
Mapí’s eyes widened in surprise, and Ingrid nearly choked on her water, sputtering as she tried to recover. Alexia blinked, her mouth opening and closing as if she were trying to process what Cata had just said. "What? Are you serious?" Alexia finally managed to say, her tone a mixture of disbelief and amusement.
Cata leaned back, folding her arms across her chest with a smirk. "Come on, it’s the most obvious explanation. The glow, the relaxed attitude, the sudden confidence – classic signs. Trust me, I’ve seen it before."
Ingrid shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around the idea. "But who? When? How do you know?"
Cata shrugged nonchalantly. "I don’t know the details, but I know what I’m seeing. It’s not rocket science."
Alexia still looked skeptical, but she couldn’t completely dismiss Cata’s theory. "I mean... I guess it’s possible," she said slowly, glancing over at Patri, who was doing her best to appear unfazed. "But surely she would tell us?"
“I don’t tell you when I have regular sex,” Cata replied with a playful roll of her eyes.
“Ew,” Mapí muttered, wrinkling her nose, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips. The tension in the room eased slightly as the conversation took on a more teasing tone.
“Besides, you guys can be pretty scary when you want to be,” Cata continued, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Remember when Jana brought Jill to one of the Champions League matches? You nearly bit her head off.”
Ingrid snorted, unable to hide her amusement. "That was different! We were just... protective."
"Protective?" Cata shot back, raising an eyebrow. "You were practically interrogating her, asking all those questions like you were her older sisters or something. If I were her, I’d be a little hesitant to bring anyone around you guys too."
Alexia opened her mouth to argue but then stopped, realising that Cata might have a point. They were a tight-knit group, and while that closeness brought comfort and support, it could also be intimidating, especially when it came to personal matters like relationships.
Patri took the opportunity to steer the conversation further away from any potential landmines. "Cata’s right, though. We can be a bit much sometimes. Maybe she’s just enjoying this part of her life privately, and that’s okay. We don’t have to know every detail."
Mapí sighed, nodding reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess. I just hope she knows we’d be happy for her, no matter what."
"We’re just being nosy, as usual," Ingrid added with a chuckle. "But we should probably let her come to us if she wants to share."
Cata nodded in agreement, her playful demeanour softening slightly. "Exactly. If she’s happy, that’s all that matters."
You and Patri had been relatively successful at keeping your relationship quiet. It helped that you already lived in the same building, making it easy to slip in and out of each other's apartments without drawing too much attention. The close quarters provided the perfect cover – no one thought twice about seeing you together at odd hours or spending time in each other's spaces. It was just what friends did.
Patri’s naturally tactile nature also played a significant role in keeping suspicions at bay. She was always affectionate with everyone, always the one to throw an arm around a teammate, pull someone into a quick hug, or casually rest her head on a shoulder during team meetings. Her easygoing, physical approach to friendship meant that no one batted an eye when she touched you – no one suspected that her touches lingered just a little longer, or that her gaze softened whenever she looked at you.
This façade had worked well for months. You could share secret smiles across the room, brush fingers when passing each other in the hallway, or steal a quick kiss when no one was looking. It was thrilling in its own way – like you were both in on this wonderful secret that no one else knew about.
But as the weeks passed, the subtle changes in you were becoming harder to hide. The joy of being with Patri was seeping into every part of your life, and it was starting to show. The way your face lit up when she walked into the room, the newfound confidence that had everyone talking, the soft smile that seemed to have taken permanent residence on your lips – all of it was evidence that something had changed, something more than just a good mood.
Who would have thought that your carefully constructed illusion of smoke and mirrors would come crashing down over a bra? It was a very pretty bra – almost entirely see-through mesh with little blue flowers and vines draped artistically over the cups and bands. Delicate and elegant, it was a piece Patri had chosen carefully, knowing you would appreciate the details, knowing you would appreciate it immensely against her tanned skin.
It had been one of those rare, lazy mornings when you and Patri had lingered in bed longer than usual, wrapped up in each other and the comfort of your shared space. The early light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the tangled sheets. The world outside felt distant, and the pressures of your busy lives seemed to melt away in the quiet of the morning. There had been laughter – Patri had a way of making you laugh, really laugh, even when you were trying to stay serious. Soft kisses followed, the kind that spoke of unspoken promises, of shared secrets, and of the deep affection that had blossomed between you. Whispers filled the room, conversations so tender and intimate that they made the rest of the world fade into insignificance. It was just the two of you, in your own little universe, where nothing else mattered.
When it finally came time to get up and face the day, the reality of the outside world came rushing back in, and the easy rhythm of the morning turned into a scramble. You had dressed quickly, grabbing clothes off the floor in a hurry, not thinking twice about which items belonged to whom. There was no time for careful sorting or folding – just the frantic rush to stuff everything into your kit bags before heading out the door. In the chaos, it hadn’t even crossed your mind that something as small as a bra could unravel everything you’d worked so hard to keep hidden.
The rest of the day had passed in a blur – training, meetings, more training. You hadn’t thought about the bra once, too focused on your performance, on the game coming up, on the usual demands of your life. It wasn’t until you were all gathered in the common room later that evening, relaxing after a long day, that the forgotten piece of lingerie decided to make its dramatic reappearance.
Technically, it was Patri’s fault – she had pulled her stuff out while gathering her towel before heading to the shower, a familiar routine in your post training haze. The bra had slipped from her pile of clothes, falling carelessly onto the floor and lying there, unnoticed, as the team of you rushed to get ready. It was a simple mistake, the kind that happens in the rush of daily life, but in your situation, it was a mistake with consequences.
Jana was in between you and Patri’s lockers when she spotted the lacy material sprawled carelessly on the ground. She picked it up with a puzzled look, clearly intrigued by the delicate piece of lingerie. The room was bustling with the usual post-training chatter, but the atmosphere seemed to shift subtly as she held up the bra.
“Hey, I think you dropped this,” Jana called out as you approached your locker, extending the bra toward you with a slightly raised eyebrow.
Your reaction was almost instinctive. You had been caught up in the rhythm of the conversation, and without thinking, you waved off Jana’s gesture. “Oh, no, that’s Patri’s,” you said dismissively, barely registering what you had just revealed. The words slipped out before you could fully process their implications.
The instant the words left your mouth, the room seemed to go still. Alexia, who had been chatting with Mapí and Ingrid, turned sharply toward you, her eyes narrowing with curiosity and a hint of suspicion. “And how would you know that, nena?” she asked, her tone carrying a mixture of intrigue and challenge.
Your mind went blank, a wave of panic washing over you. You could feel your face flushing as the realisation of what you had inadvertently confessed began to sink in. You froze, your mouth opening and closing as you scrambled for a plausible explanation. “Uhhhhh,” you stammered, struggling to find the right words. “N-no reason.”
Alexia’s gaze was unwavering, and the room seemed to hold its breath as she waited for a more satisfying answer. “How do you know that bra belongs to Patri, nena?” she asked again, her voice firmer this time.
The question felt like a spotlight shining directly on you, exposing your every thought and emotion. Your heart raced as you tried to piece together a response that wouldn’t draw more attention. The easy-going vibe of the room had vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable tension that seemed to settle over everyone.
Patri, who had returned from her shower at completely the wrong time stiffened visibly at the mention of the bra. Her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and resignation. You could see the internal struggle reflected in her eyes as she glanced between you and the inquiring teammates. Her mouth opened, but she didn’t say anything, leaving you to fend for yourself.
“Uh, well,” you began, trying to regain your composure. “I just – ” The words felt inadequate, and you could see the doubt in Alexia’s eyes growing with each passing second. You glanced around, hoping to find a way out of the situation, but all you saw were the expectant faces of your teammates.
Jana, sensing the rising tension, looked between you and Alexia with a mix of confusion and concern. “Maybe it was just a mistake,” she suggested, her tone softening as she tried to defuse the situation. “I didn’t realise it would be such a big deal.”
Alexia’s eyes softened slightly, but she wasn’t ready to let the matter drop completely. “I get that. But if it’s Patri’s, then it’s a bit more personal than just a forgotten item of clothing. So, how did you know?”
The pressure was mounting, and you could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Alright, fine,” you said, your voice steadying as you faced Alexia. “Patri’s my girlfriend, that’s how I know it’s hers.”
There was a collective intake of breath as the truth finally came out. The room seemed to shift, the realisation settling over everyone like a sudden wave. Patri, though visibly relieved, still looked a little flushed. You could sense a mixture of surprise and understanding in the reactions of your teammates.
Alexia’s expression softened from curiosity to a look of genuine acceptance. “Oh,” she said quietly, a smile forming on her lips. “Well, I guess that explains a lot.”
“It does?” You and Patri asked simultaneously.
“Yeh, it does, Patricia. Nena has the sex glow and you look at her like she hung the moon and stars.”
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onsomenewsht · 3 months ago
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'cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know
About when, despite the victories and the defeats, you still talk a bit too much, but all the questions are answered
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《 read part 1, I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go
》 Alexia Putellas x fencer!Reader
》 words count: +4.5k
》 move mountains [idiom]: to do something that seems impossible, particularly when love or belief makes one feel determined to succeed in something incredibly difficult to achieve
“En garde!”
The weight of the blade in your hand is familiar, well balanced as you adjust the position of your feet on the piste.
“Prêtes?”
A cocky smirk appears on your opponent’s face, somehow not disguised behind the mask tinted with the Hungarian flag. It just sparks more determination inside you, fuelling a fire that will burn ‘till the very last point.
“Allez!”
You know she’s coming even before her body moves in a leap, the sabre twitching to surprise you with a low line attack. A quick step on the side is enough to gain the space you need for a clear defense, deflecting her blade away from the target and sliding your own on her back.
A red light turns immediately on, firing up your side of the fencing piste.
The referee gestures in your direction to confirm the touch, the score is now 10-13.
With not much time left to catch up to your opponent’s advantage before the end of the second period, the need to start another assault overcomes the joy of the successful hit.
Three points behind, you can’t concede anything, you know that, but every single person in the arena thinks you’re desperate to land as many touches as possible.
However, you’re not desperate.
You’ve never been desperate in your entire fencing career, and you’re not tonight, at the dusk of your Olympic experience.
For once, for this last dance with the gods and goddesses of the sports, it’s all about being present and enjoying every moment.
~
“Look, this could be us if you let me take you out on a date”
Barely awake to register your words and definitely not enough to deal with your overexcitement this early in the morning, Alexia just takes the phone you unceremoniously put on her face as soon as you spot her eyes opening.
The article on the screen reports about "the 9 couples who competed at the Olympics together and won" with great details and pictures. She’s definitely not going to read it.
“We don’t play the same sport”, she states.
“Not the point of the article”
“We don’t even compete for the same country”
“Still missing the point”, you roll your eyes unimpressed, knowing she’s once again just avoiding the topic.
Or trying to annoy you for the abrupt wake up.
“We’re not together–”
“Yet!”
The footballer isn’t able to hide the smile that rises on her lips, yours is always so contagious. She hands back the phone, turning on her side to face you properly. The light sheets now barely cover her body, exposing a couple of darkening marks.
Not letting your gaze wander is, ‘till this day, the greatest display of strength and self-control you had to perform.
And you came back from the Olympic Games just a couple of months ago.
“We’re not together yet ‘cus you don’t let us go out on a proper date!”
It’s Alexia’s turn to roll her eyes, but the redness that tints her cheek is much more difficult to hide than your disappointment.
The two of you meet a few times since the Closing Ceremony, both with medals hanging from your necks and a strange force in your chest pulling one towards the other – despite everything.
Despite the older woman insisting it can’t work.
Taking advantage of a moment of distraction, you push her back onto the bed, sliding one leg over her body and successfully holding her hands above her head. The blush spreads on her face and your grin grows, but when you find her eyes, you make sure she knows you deeply mean what you’re saying.
“I just need a chance, Alexia”
“I’m–”
“Just give us a chance”
~
Fencing is a strange combat practice.
“En garde!”
Doesn’t matter how many times, how hard, or where you’re hit.
“Prêtes?”
You’re immortal.
“Allez!”
The only touch that kills you is the 15th one.
You launch yourself at the Hungarian girl, knowing that to win the game she just needs to land two more attacks or rely on your mistakes. She’s pushed to the very end of the piste, her sabre desperately circling around yours to defend her target, while her foot is moving quickly to avoid a step behind – a step that could mean one more point for you.
An idea comes up as you intentionally let your attack fall short, fooling your opponent to advance. Her front leg extends in a forward motion, pushing with the back foot to create more energy and gain space from the end line.
She’s exactly where you need her.
With a clean parry, deflecting her blade away, you successfully withdraw her line and gain right-of-way to attack. Now vulnerable and off balance, you just have to press the tip of your sabre on her shoulder.
The piste lights up with a vivid red and, a second too late, bright white reports her no valid touch.
11-13.
In your corner, your maestro is nodding his head slowly and suggesting you the next move with rapid motions of his hands.
Not a man of many words, someone could say, but you like him like that.
He knows exactly when to spur your competitiveness and hunger to win, when to keep your feet steady on the piste, and when to let you be.
~
“You know, I think I wasted my entire life”
Alexia moves her hands from your back to your shoulder, raising a sceptical eyebrow at your statements but now used – and resigned – to your questionable sense of humour.
“I’m made to be a wag”
As her head drops down and her eyes light up with pure amusement, you can’t help but think you want to be able to do this for the rest of your life. Managing to make her laugh so openly and carefree is still one of your biggest accomplishments.
“I have to say, you do look good”, the footballer points to the jersey you’re wearing, blushing a bit at the thought of her name on the back.
She can just hope you will not notice, blaming the effort the past 90 minutes demanded from her.
“Better do, I don’t know how much longer I can keep rocking Barça merch for”
“Good for you, there’s only one game left”
“Bold to you to assume I’m stopping at the Champions League, Putellas”, you reach out to drop one arm around her shoulders to hold the Catalan in an embrace you’re now really familiar with, “There’s a World Cup title to defend next year, I’ve already cleared my schedule”
~
Coming from a family of respected and accomplished athletes of the sport, the road ahead of you is marked out with the characteristic arch of a fencing blade since you’re old enough to hold the weapon properly.
Probably even before that, knowing your parents.
“En garde!”
The techniques of parring and thrusting, the movements of feet dancing on the piste, the special feeling of the blade as an extension of the body. You master all before you’re actually ready to admit the desire to make fencing a living, not just a passion passed on or a demanting hobby.
Hating the sport could have been so much easier, blaming the ‘nepo baby’ status either you succeeded or you turned out not to be up to it.
“Prêtes?”
But you love fencing.
“Allez!”
And you’re damn good at it.
A couple of steps into the assault, you take advantage of a moment of hesitation in the Hungarian’s preparation to perfectly timing your next move. Pushing from your front leg with impressive force, your body flies high to quickly cover the gap that divides the two of you. The jump allows you to deliver the attack slightly earlier than expected, striking your sabre against your target with no mercy.
The red light turns on as the crowds erupt in cheers, 12-13.
~
“Shouldn't I be the nervous one?”
Alexia’s hand finds yours before you’re even able to register her comment, stopping you from biting your nails off. She pulls it away and kisses your knuckles, keeping her eyes on your tense body.
The drive through the countryside’s streets is slow and calm, giving the footballer the time to appreciate the view but also a clear idea of how little you want to arrive at your parent’s villa.
A summer break under the Italian sun looks like a great idea, taking your girlfriend to your favourite hidden gems all around the country and finding together new places for new memories is just what you two need.
And it’s perfect, until your mother calls to invite you to spend the weekend with them.
“It can’t be that bad”
“You know my parents”
“I don’t, actually”, she argues, honest but not unkind.
It’s not like you don’t want Alexia to meet your family, she had bumped into them on several occasions and had brief conversations with them when their paths collided in your life.
A formal meeting though? Two entire days with your parents at their summer house? Sounds like hell to you.
“They’re going to be obnoxious and stern without reason”
“I can deal with them”
You stop at the side of a deserted road, too close to your destination for your own liking. Needing some time to prepare yourself and your girlfriend for the upcoming and unnecessary drama, the unplanned break looks like the best compromise over turning the car the other way altogether.
“I know you can deal with them, I don’t want you to”
That sounds wrong.
Alexia’s face contorts slightly, even if you’re perfectly aware she’s trying to understand you without just assuming you don’t want her to enter your family’s bubble.
“I’m not making any sense”, you state, taking a long breath in and relaxing at the feeling of the Catalan’s hand still holding yours.
“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to”
“No, I– Ale, my parents aren’t bad, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they are good. I told you what my childhood looked like. I had everything I’d ask for, and I’m grateful for that, but–”
When you meet her eyes you find complete support and desire to know how to take this pressuring weight out of your chest.
You never felt more cared for in your life.
“I met your family, I’ve been in your house. It feels like home, warm and lived, and– I can’t explain, but your family feels like a hug. My family?”, you scoff, trying to find the right words, “My family feels like a distant pat on the back on the good days. I don’t want you to feel like that, I want you to feel all my love”
She doesn’t let your hand go to gently hold your face with her free one, her thumb wiping away the traces of tears from your cheeks.
She makes sure to have all your attention, she makes sure to convey all her love for you.
“I’ll be your hug”
~
The protests of the younger opponent are cut short by the referee, who gestured for the two of you to take the centre of the piste.
“En garde!”
An old maestro, one of the unfortunates who had to train you when you were an annoying and reckless teenager, demanded from you absolute control of your reactions every time you landed a hit.
“Prêtes?”
You used to never celebrate any point but the last one.
“Allez!”
You don’t hold back anymore.
The Hungarian’s steps are now more calculated, jumping forward every now and then but keeping a fair distance from you and your sabre.
Fencing has taught you a lot about discipline and respect, you’re grateful for how much you’ve grown thanks to the sport. It was a long way from a tiny hyperactive kid, who just wanted to win and couldn’t accept any decision against it, to where you stand now.
Sometimes you still feel like that kid.
You hold your ground, you don’t rush the action just for the sake of it. Keeping up the pace of the assault, your blade finds the opponent’s one in rapid motions of attacks and responses without any real commitment to push for the point.
Other times you wish you were still that kid.
Suddenly, you both launch forward – aiming for a different target but with the same purpose. While she uses her front leg and an elusive movement of her arm to find your shoulder, your back leg slides and your body extends lower, trying to catch the other fencer by surprise.
The blades collide several times in a rapid succession of parries and responses until the piste lights up and you both pour out in celebration, claiming the touch.
You don’t hold back anymore, you have nothing to prove.
You don’t have to prove you’re worth your family’s name, you don’t have to prove you’re good enough to compete with the bests of the world in the biggest stages.
You don’t have to prove anything to anyone but yourself.
When both signals indicate the hit, it rests upon the referee to decide which fencer scores the point – retracing the entire action and giving their interpretation of it.
If they say the point isn’t yours, you have to accept the decision.
It goes without saying that you are not happy with it when the referee indicates your opponent when conferring the point.
12-14, it doesn’t look good for you.
~
Your pacing around the rooftop is frenetic, quite comical if seen from outside.
A gust of wind makes your exposed skin shiver, blowing your hair and completely ruining the intricate style you spend almost an hour on. It could also be your nervous hands making, but you’re not going to blame yourself for that too.
“Can you just stop?”
“No, Alexia, I cannot!”
The footballer covers the distance between the two of you in a few, determined steps. Her dress moves in a way that perfectly highlights the curve of her body and the definition of her muscles.
You could be fixed on your fiancé, devoting your attention completely to her, if you’d not be too preoccupied with freaking out.
“It’s not working”, you state.
“You really think that?”
Another shiver runs through your back, this time caused by the thought of the ending of your relationship with Alexia. Do you really think it’s over?
“We’re planning a wedding and we’ve never been in the same city at the same time for more than three consecutive months”
“Since when has that been a problem?”, she asks, holding you by your arms and never dropping her gaze, “We deal with the distance just fine. We go on dates and spend time together, we communicate and we are honest, we are there for each other when it matters”
“I want to be there when it doesn’t matter too”
“What does that even mean?”
The desire of stability and an everyday life that can grow into a future is something you both crave but are too scared to admit to the other.
“I want to be there when you’re back from training and you just want to watch a wild nature documentary, I want to be there for the daily and boring errands like doing the dishes or going to the supermarket just because we’re out of toilet paper”
It’s difficult to build your lives together far away from each other, to then meet and intertwine your paths, just to say goodbye and start all over again.
But the life you’re building is so beautiful.
A life that now looks like a carefully planned date in a stunning location, set up months in advance, or like a spontaneous surprise just because you have a free weekend and a pull from your heart that cannot be ignored.
But a life that soon will look like a walk out with a dog in the middle of the night because you forgot to do it after dinner, or like a weekly double date with your friends at the same restaurant.
A life that now looks like expensive gifts and flowers sent from a different country, but a life that soon will look like an electric bill with both your names on it.
A life that now looks like a shared calendar to make sure you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, exactly at the right time.
But a life that soon will still look like a shared calendar to make sure you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, exactly at the right time, just for completely different reasons.
A life you are already building, already living.
“Do you remember when you asked me to give us a chance? Well, now is my turn”
“Alexia, I–”
“Just give us a chance, amore mio”
~
“En garde!”
As a smirk reappears on the Hungarian’s face, you take a deep breath and remember your journey to this very fencing bout.
Your fourth Olympic Games, your fourth Individual Final for a medal.
“Prêtes?”
This could be a poker of victories or a bittersweet send off to the biggest sport stage.
“Allez!”
Sabre is the fastest and most aggressive of the three fencing disciplines, both parts rushing their opponent from the moment the referee commands to commence action. Just to secure a touch as soon as possible.
That’s why sabre fencers purposely take the defensive approach just in really particular situations.
You make a couple of steps forward, faking a lunge, as the young girl let her blade circle around yours without a real intention to engage. The exchange goes on like this far longer than you wish for, you know it’s a matter of moments before someone has to stir the combat.
Learning to understand when to attack and when to wait has been a challenge your entire life – not just professionally-wise. A maybe too talkative kid, a maybe too reckless teenager, a maybe too presumptuous woman.
Always maybe a little too much.
There’s a fairly big distance between the two of you, the Hungarian’s back leg shakes in subtle desire to close the gap and take the initiative.
It’s the hint you need.
Learning to understand your feelings and your emotions, accepting them as they are, doesn’t matter how strong or uncomfortable, has been the real challenge.
A battle you still fight against yourself, against your own mind. A battle no one can really see or comprehend.
You accelerate and move forward, stamping your front foot to the ground and extending your hand, both fainting an attack and disguising your defence stance. The motion is quickly followed by your opponent’s launch, but, tricked by the fast movement of your blade, she completely miscalculates the actual distance between your bodies.
She falls short, and, without time to recover, she has to take your punishment.
A battle you face with yourself, but with people in your corner ready to cheer for you despite the outcome.
Once again, the only light turning on is the red one – the score is now a compelling 13-14.
~
“Oh”
Looking up from the paperwork you’re proofreading, you notice how Alexia stops in the middle of your bedroom with a cup of coffee in one hand and a startstrucked gaze fixed on her face.
“We have to make another one!”, she whisper-shouts as she doesn’t seem able to look away from the baby currently sleeping in your arms.
It’s not the most comfortable position, but it’s too early for you to deal with your six-month old daughter’s fussing and your wife’s quite emotional state.
“We make another one”
“No, now hand me my coffee, please”, you lay the papers on the bed to make some grabbing gestures towards the cup – still in her very still, very far away hand.
“We have to replicate, we have to make another one”
“No, we really don’t”
“Look at her!”
You don’t look at her, finally reaching for your coffee as Alexia comes sitting next to you to gently caress the little girl’s face.
A smile rises on your lips, the picture of your growing family is always able to warm your heart and make up any doubts in your running mind.
Being loved and taken care of is not as hard as you thought it’d be.
It’s simple, it’s comforting.
It’s the hug she promised you, and you feel it wrapping all around your body when you need it the most, and also suddenly, out of nowhere and for no reason at all, in mornings like this one.
“She’s like a white rhino or the Amur leopard”, she doesn’t need to look at you to feel your raised eyebrow, “We fell asleep watching a documentary about the rarest and most critically threatened animals on the planet”
“I can’t leave the two of you alone unsupervised, never again”
“She’s rare, amore mio. We need to create more so the world could be a better place”
Holding back your laughs is getting more and more difficult, restrained just by the idea of waking up the baby still fast asleep. At least the Catalan is keeping her voice down as her enthusiasm runs wild.
As soon as she starts kissing her cheeks you know you’re done.
“Leave her alone, let her sleep”
“I can’t, look at her!”, she pumps your daughter’s nose with a finger, making her steer in your arms with a too-cute-for-your-own-good face.
She’s always reacting to Alexia’s soft touches and whispers.
Your wife’s basically tearing up at this point, too overwhelmed by the moment. At least you can blame the post partum hormones for your now emotional state.
The happiness you feel all around your home? That’s all Alexia’s making.
~
The crowd is loud and beaming, excited for the last tale of this fencing Individual Final and to see who will come out as the winner.
“En garde!”
A quick look at your maestro, he nods with his arms crossed. That will do.
“Prêtes?”
Breathing in and out, you savour every second of this as you find your position. A good preparation means everything in fencing. It’d make the difference in any moment of the assault, in any moment of the entire bout.
You learnt that a good preparation means everything in life too.
“Allez!”
The younger girl moves fast, launching herself forward as soon as the referee gives the go. But you’re prepared.
A good preparation gives you time to watch your opponent, ready to move in either direction you need to. You’re ready to move forward or take a step back, you’re ready to jump or to slide low. You’re ready to do everything you need to not get touched.
You’re prepared for this to be your last time fencing at the Olympic Games, you’re prepared for this to be your last time fencing all together.
The Hungarian tries to take you off balance with a quick sequence of attacks, going for the high hit and then aiming at your exposed target. You parry every single one, predicting her movement with impressive precision.
There are different ways to prepare – the posture, the speed, the steps can be varied, depending on the style of the fencer and on the opponent. There’s no right or wrong way. But you’re prepared for anything tonight.
When you see her going deep, you know how to move to anticipate her blade, rotating yours against it and leaving her target open just enough for you to breathe out and press the tip of the sabre in the middle of her chest.
The red light turns on before the green one, the score now announcing a draw at 14.
~
“This one looks comfortable”, you tap Alexia’s foot, waking her up efficiently from the nap you find her taking.
How can she manage to fall asleep in the most unhinged positions, it’s something you ask yourself to this day. Your daughter takes after her, obviously.
That’s how you find the two of them on the sofa with a National Geographic’s documentary on.
At least the girl immediately stirred up at hearing you coming back home after a couple hours out to run some boring errands.
“I was just resting my eyes”
“Sure”, you bend down smiling, kissing her forehead, “You have training in an hour, coach”
“Plenty of time”
A firm hand finds the back of your neck, holding you in place for a proper kiss. Alexia’s lips are soft and taste like fresh tomatoes and kid’s chapstick – the latter probably your daughter’s doing.
Said daughter now alone and unsupervised in the kitchen.
You reluctantly pull back from the Catalan, leaving a light peck at the tip of her nose as soon as she frowns unhappily about the loss of contact.
“You used to like me”, she complains.
“Good old days, mi amor”
~
Eleven seconds left may be the entire time of a race or may count nothing in some other sports. In fencing, eleven seconds may be the longest time ever or not quite enough at all for a point.
You’re not going to drag this into the final round.
“En garde!”
Breathe in.
“Prêtes?”
Breathe out.
“Allez!”
Smile.
As soon as the referee gives the go, you rush forward with your hand held back – quite a vulnerable move if not for the four metres distance the starting positions guarantee. You bounce a couple steps, staying very high against the Hungarian’s low stance, building speed and momentum to lunge upwards without giving her any clear clue of what type of attack you’re going to choose.
Your blade slides on the target before she has time to realise where you actually hit.
There’s no doubt, no hesitation.
The red light turns on in what feels like the longest time ever, the crowd erupts in cheers, and the mask falls off your head as you celebrate like never before in your entire career.
Taking the centre of the piste, you point your sabre in a really specific direction, aiming at a very specific person.
Two, actually.
You mimic a bow and the audience goes wild.
It’s for none but the two people you can’t keep your teared up eyes off.
After that, it’s all a blur.
Saluting the opposition and the referee is a natural gesture. You manage to give the younger fencer your sincere compliments and some words of advice she takes more gracefully than you could have ever done at her age.
Your maestro holds you in a big hug, he says it’s been an honour, and you will not start doubting him now.
Someone drags you for a quick interview, asking questions you have been asked your entire life. You answer sincerely, but the desire to get this over with as soon as possible is clear as the smile on your face.
“It’s a bronze medal, how do you feel about it?”
“Honestly? I think this is the most important and beautiful of them all”, you politely say your goodbyes to run in the opposite direction.
Finding Alexia has always been easy, your eyes lock in the middle of full rooms despite everything and everyone. A warm hug envelops your body when you’re close enough to fall into her open arms, feeling tiny hands holding onto you at the same time.
“We’re so proud of you, amore mio”
“Thank you, for the chance”
fine.
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lwwife · 6 months ago
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i am fucking DECEASED
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alexiasleftoversalmon · 12 days ago
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If it’s one thing we learned from this documentary is that the dinos always stick together 🫶🏻❤️
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Nothing but the utmost respect for these girls ✨
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mysunshinetemptress · 5 months ago
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For England
Alexia Putellas x lioness!reader x ocdaughter!reader
Warnings: Fluff
Even before Melia arrived, Alexia and you had joked about the future. Would we have a mini-me in a Spanish jersey, mimicking her mama's stepovers, or a fearless lioness with your crunching tackles? As it turned out, Melia was a curious mix. From her first kick of a ball, she'd proudly rock a jersey split down the middle, the Spanish crest battling for dominance with the Three Lions As Melia toddled around, she'd proudly rock a mishmash of kits. Or sometimes it would be an oversized Spain shirt drowning her tiny frame, the next a miniature Lionesses jersey that barely covered her knees. You both knew, deep down, that she'd eventually choose a side.
 She was very proudly called "Amorcito," she was your love in a smaller version, a mix of the cultures you both so desperately loved and just like the love that brought you both together.
However, by the age of three, Melia's allegiance became undeniable. The turning point came during the Euros. She was mesmerised by the Lionesses' attacking prowess. Sat alongside your wife as she watched excitedly her passion only seemed to build with every goal an elicited joyous shrieks, every tackle a passionate fist pump. When the final whistle blew, crowning England champions, Melia danced with unbridled glee, waving a miniature Lionesses flag like a warrior queen. 
 I expected a flicker of disappointment, maybe even a playful jab. After all, she was a Barcelona legend, a "Culer" through and through. But instead, a wide smile stretched across her face. Later that night, as Melia slept soundly in her England-themed pyjamas, Alexia surprised me again. With a mischievous grin, she pulled out a brand new Lionesses jersey, emblazoned with "Melia 10" on the back.
"She is a Culer mi vida," she said, her voice soft, "that is my legacy, that is my career, not La Roja. But family? Our family supports each other, no matter the colours we wear on the pitch But supporting England, the lionesses, your team, cheering for your country, her country? That's a love that runs deeper than football."
Her words struck a chord. Melia's choice wasn't a rejection of Alexia's heritage, but a blossoming of her own. It was a beautiful testament to the power of sports to unite families, even if they cheered for different teams.
The World Cup final, with its clash of loyalties, only solidified that realisation. Melia, both yours and Alexias Amorcito, defied expectations throughout the tournament with her continued wear of England jerseys as well as the St George crest painted along her cheeks and her red and white ribbon tied into her ponytail.
Your heart lurched as you saw Melia freeze in the tunnel, her small hand gripping Alexia's Spanish jersey like a vice. The roar of the crowd was a distant echo in the tense silence. Alexia’s warm smile, usually contagious, faltered at the edges. Melia's eyes, brimming with tears, locked with yours.
Alexia, ever the teammate, knelt beside her, a gentle smile on her face. "Hey, Amoricito," she said, "It's okay, you look beautiful. Just a few steps, and then you can change after the walkout, alright?"
Melia, however, remained rooted to the spot, her tiny chin jutting out. Tears spilled down her cheeks, blurring the red and yellow stripes of the Spanish jersey. "I'm English, Mami!" she cried, her voice cracking with frustration. "I can't walk out with you! I'll let them down!" Alexia looked down at Melia confused "Who down Amoricito" "I'm English, Mami, not Spanish! I'll be letting the lionesses down, I'll be letting Mama down" she cried, her voice cracking.
Alexia sighed her voice a soothing balm. "Amoricito," she began, "we all love you, no matter what jersey you wear. You just need to walk out with us, then you can change, okay?"
Melia shook her head, adamant. "But I want everyone to see I'm cheering for England!" Her lower lip quivered, threatening to spill over.
Alexia exchanged a helpless glance with you. it had been planned to perfection this little moment between you all a cute family moment, a symbol of international unity on the biggest stage. Now, it was unravelling before the world's eyes. Your gaze darted towards the tunnel entrance, where the announcer's voice boomed, signalling the imminent walkout. Time was ticking and Melia wasn't letting up or calming down.
Taking a deep breath, You rushed over and knelt beside them your daughter might have been born in England and loved the country with every ounce of her heart but she was so much like Alexia in looks and personality. "Hey, Amoricito," you said softly, your voice laced with calm. "It's okay, sweetheart. We know you love England, the girls know you love England. But remember, Mami is Spanish and she wanted to include her favourite girl during this moment, but this walkout is for both teams, for both of us, for our family and, for everyone who loves football."
Melia sniffled, her lower lip trembling. "But the badge," she hiccupped, pointing at the Spanish crest emblazoned on the jersey. "It's not right."
A warmth bloomed in your chest. Her fierce loyalty, even at this tender age, filled me with pride.
A quick decision had to be made. Glancing at Alexia, I saw a flicker of understanding in her eyes. She squeezed Melia's hand gently. "How about this," Alexia offered, "You walk out with me, but when we get to the national anthems, you can stand with Mama and the lionesses, okay? English and Spanish."
A flicker of hope sparked in Melia's eyes. She looked down at the Spanish jersey, then back at you. "Can I?"
"Absolutely," You confirmed, relief flooding through you as you looked back at your teammates and your own mascot you had abandoned trying to calm your daughter down.
As the announcer's voice reached a crescendo, the tunnel doors swung open. Alexia took Melia's tiny hand gripping it tightly, as you placed a kiss on her head and squeezed Alexia's hand before grabbing the hand of your mascot.
The pre-game formalities flew by in a blur. As the teams lined up for the national anthems,  Alexia crouched down and winked at Melia. "Ready to change sides, Amoricito?" she asked playfully Melia smiled grabbing Alexia's hand before pulling her towards you and grabbing your hand with hers as she stood proudly in between you both, her tiny voice joining the chorus of "God Save the King," Your heart swelled with pride, a mixture of maternal love and admiration for her courage.
Melia, her smile now radiant, let go of Alexia and raised her hands to be lifted up by you laughing as you kissed her cheeks. "Just hold on for the win, Mama," she whispered, her eyes sparkling. "For England!"
"Maybe next time, we'll walk out with you wearing an England jersey, leading the English fans in cheers."
Melia's eyes sparkled. "Really?"
"Absolutely," you promised.
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queen-of-reptiles · 2 months ago
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𝚂𝙴𝙲𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚂
𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴
description: ona was finally where she had dreamed, she was back at barcelona with her best friend and loving every moment. only problem? she's dating her captain's younger sister, you.
And now, Alexia knows...
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ona batlle x putellas!reader
part one here
part two here
part three of the 'hidden' universe - ona's version
mapi leon x bronze!reader here
disclaimer: this is all fiction do not take any of this seriously !
warnings: swear words - smut - no under 18's - reader giving! reader fingering (like slightly) reader eating Ona out, cunnilingus, fluff, and a shorter ending :) Oh also google translating to Spanish so apologies in advance xx
SMUT AT BEGINNING
MINORS DNI
18+
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y/n squeaked as two hands squeezed at her waist, her mind having been completely focussed on making the pancakes she was baking perfect.
"Bon dia, carinyo." Ona hummed softly.
Good morning baby.
y/n smiled as the girl pressed multiple kisses against her cheek, the sweetness making the actress laugh as she shook the girl off slightly so she could focus on not burning the pancakes.
"Fa olor meravellosa." Ona whispered and y/n chuckled.
Smells amazing beautiful
"Blueberry and banana pancakes. Just how you like." y/n promises, and a wide smile breaks out on Ona's face.
Ona takes the plate off y/n, a soft kiss being pressed on y/n's cheek in thanks as Ona moves to the fridge, instantly grabbing some smoothies which were in there and setting them out on the table.
Ona watched as y/n hummed to herself as she tidied the dirty pan into the dishwasher, a soft smile on her face as she grabbed her own plate and the whipped cream which she had bought.
"Tú y esa crema batida." Ona says with a chuckle.
You and that whipped cream.
y/n giggled at Ona sticking her tongue out at her, her eyes sparkling as she watched the footballer with nothing but pure admiration as they shared a soft smile.
"¡Me gusta!" y/n defends herself.
I like it!
y/n then squirts a large swirl of the cream on her pancakes, before squirting another small bit toward Ona who shrieks and curses out at y/n who laughs.
"¿Qué haré contigo mi niña descarada?" Ona asks lowly, her voice suddenly shifting to a more gravelly pitch.
What will I do with you my cheeky girl?
y/n can't help the way her stomach swirls with the way Ona's voice had dropped and her flirty smile had grown.
"Todo lo que quieras, mi amor." y/n says, her voice silky and low - combatting Ona's flirt.
Anything you want, my love.
y/n smiles when Ona gulps, trying to contain her emotion as she took a bite of her pancakes, shaking her fork at y/n as the girl chuckled.
"Te amo." Ona says softly.
I love you.
y/n grinned leaning over and pressing a kiss against Ona's lips making the girl hum lovingly.
"Yo también te amo, Oni." y/n promises and the two share a smile.
I love you too, Oni.
The two finished in silence, Ona taking the plates to the sink to wash them, where y/n stood wrapped around her from behind.
"¿Cómo te sientes al contarles?" y/n asks her as Ona turns in her arms to face her.
How are you feeling about telling them?
"Orgulloso. Esa mi niña, es la más guapa." Ona says, pressing a soft kiss to y/n's cheek.
Proud. That my girl, is the most gorgeous one.
"Flirt." y/n chuckles, knowing she was feeling the same as she mentally tracked Ona's freckled nose in her head. Trying to commit the patterned spots to memory.
Ona leans forward, connecting their lips softly so y/n can take the lead, sucking the footballer's tongue into her mouth and pushing her up and onto the counter top.
y/n made quick work of sliding her underwear off and away, throwing it somewhere behind her, which she planned to worry about another time.
The two's mouths continued to dance together while y/n did this, tongues intertwining, Ona's hands nestled tightly in y/n's hair, her grip tensing further when y/n's hand drifted up her tanned thighs.
y/n watched, a glint in her eye as Ona's head tipped back, her chest stuttering at y/n's pawing hers which squeezed the inside of her thighs, growing higher, before sliding back down to her knees.
y/n's lips ran a path down Ona's neck, wanting to so desperately to nip at the skin there, but knowing that her sister would find that too far.
So y/n settled for licking a stripe back up Ona's neck, making her gasp before sinking her teeth into the top of Ona's ear, the woman moaning at the action.
"Qué ruidos tan bonitos. Que chica tan bonita. Todo mío." y/n said into Ona's ear, the brunette nodding along.
Such pretty noises. Such a pretty girl. All mine.
y/n's hands squeezed at the top of her thighs, the grip almost bruising as her thumbs ran down the soft skin. y/n's hands stroked, her finger tips stroking just across Ona's cunt.
"Por favor. Bebé por favor." Ona begged softly, the words falling from her lips in a breathless whisper.
Please. Baby Please.
y/n's hand found her chest, pushing the girl back to lay out on the counter and pulling her legs to the edge. y/n bent at her waits, reaching out behind to pull a stool for her to sit down on.
Her lips ghosted up Ona's thighs, relishing in the small gasps which came from her as she approached what was in such desperate need for attention.
y/n gave in, her tongue licking a stripe inbetween Ona's lips which made the girl cry out in shock and buck her hips. The wetness which sat there smeared across y/n's chin as she dove in for more.
y/n's tongue flicked at Ona's clit, the girl ignoring the way her chin dripped in the woman as she did so, the only thing on her mind were the pretty noises falling from Ona's lips.
The begs, pleads, moans which echoed the room as y/n sucked the clit into her mouth, letting it go with a satisfying pop.
y/n moved her tongue down, dipping slightly into Ona's hole, which caused the woman to let out a soft moan, before y/n brought her finger up, and slowly inserted it.
y/n's tongue moved back up to Ona's clit, knowing how much the woman enjoyed the stimulation when y/n used her tongue, and she just curled her finger ever so slightly back and forth.
"Yes, yes." Ona called in relief, the knot in her stomach getting tighter as her abs pushed through the light white t-shirt she wore.
y/n sped her tongue up, ignoring the slight ache she was feeling in the back of her jaw as she chased what she so desperately wanted, Ona's orgasm.
The footballer's thighs tightened around her head, and y/n pushed her finger in deeper, sucking Ona's clit into her mouth harshly as the woman came with a shout of relief.
She always tasted slightly sweet Ona, y/n had always assumed due to her diet, and her cum was a pure additive to y/n who stayed there, cleaning what she could with her tongue from her finger and Ona's cunt.
"Por favor no, demasiado sensible." Ona begged, y/n giving in and pulling away.
Please no, too sensitive.
Ona calmed, sitting up and letting out a breath as she slid down and wrapped herself around y/n, pressing a kiss to her head in thanks.
"Nosotras vamos a tener que limpiar el mostrador." y/n says softly.
we're so going to have to clean the counter.
Ona laughed at that, looking down at y/n from her lap, before leaning down and connecting their lips again.
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y/n hummed along to the radio which played as she pulled up to the Spanish team's training, her car rolling to a stop as she switched it off, the silence now pounding in her ears as she slid out of the car.
It was once again a beautiful day in Spain, y/n once again wearing a sundress, with cycling shorts underneath, because she had a habit of falling over.
y/n slowly strolled into the training ground, the staff letting her in without a fight as she flashed her lanyard.
y/n ran her hand along the wall, chuckling when the booming voice of her sister echoed from the pitch, the sound of Alexia calling a drinks break makes y/n jog out of the tunnel and into the pitch.
"Y/N!" A scream shouts and suddenly Aitana Bonmati is wrapping herself around y/n who chuckles and hugs the woman.
"Tani!" y/n cheers.
"Estoy tan emocionada de verte!" Aitana says, y/n grinning.
I am so excited to see you!
"Los he extrañado mucho a todos." y/n smiles.
I've missed you all so much.
"Ayyy, Bebe Putellas." Jenni grins as the Spanish team all begin to greet the girl and hug her.
"We've missed you!" Aitana says and y/n chuckles.
"Missed you all, but I'll be screaming in the crowds when you all play this Nations League." y/n grins and they all cheer.
There is a five minute call from the coaching staff makes Alexia sigh and kiss her little sister's cheek.
"Will you stay?" Alexia asks and y/n nods making the girls cheer as they all hug her.
"Te amo." Ona says, leaning forward and pecking y/n on the lips.
I love you
"Te amo." y/n says to her. Jenni letting out a shriek of pure shock.
"¿Qué? ¿Qué? ¿Tú? ¿Qué?" Jenni asks, pointing at the two as the rest of the team watched them confused.
What? What? You? What?
"¿La amo?
I love her?
The entire team looked between the Ona and y/n, and then Ona and y/n and then finally, Alexia and y/n, Alexia and Ona. Their captain sighed.
"Sí, sabía que ella la amaba." Alexia promises.
Yes, I knew she loved her.
"Ahhhhh! Tan linda!" Aitana says as the group are called back.
So cute!
y/n giggles, relieved that everyone was finding her and Ona sweet and weren't worried about them causing any issues, Ona wrapped her arm around y/n waist and grinned.
y/n chuckled as she wrapped an arm around Ona's shoulders and pressed a kiss to her hair and the group coo'd once more, y/n rolled her eyes, shooing them back to training.
"She is a Putellas." Jenni jokes and y/n rolls her eyes as she shoves the woman away, pressing a last kiss to Ona's cheek, before going to sit down on the side lines.
Now all that was left was to tell the world. And y/n knew just how to do that.
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y/n just posted on her story x3
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y/n was a little nervous as she sat in the stands, her coat was still on her and she could hear the calls of her name by excited fans and the sound of constant camera snaps of her and Mapi sat together.
y/n sighed, her leg shaking as Mapi talked, trying to calm the girl down about outing hers and Ona's relationship. y/n was suddenly very nervous about people's reaction.
"¿Qué pasa si ellas piensan que no soy lo suficientemente bueno para ella?" y/n asks Mapi worriedly, the woman looking at her friend confused as she hugged her.
What happens if they think I am not good enough for her?
"¡Eres lo suficientemente bueno! ¡Deja de pensar demasiado niña!" Mapi promises y/n.
You are good enough! Stop overthinking girl!
y/n smiles at Mapi, nodding her head as the teams begin to walk out, Mapi and y/n stand up cheering and clapping for them and y/n drops her hoodie off her, the camera flashes instantly speeding up.
It was almost like a simultaneous gasp in the stadium as everyone suddenly stopped paying attention to the players. Everyone's eyes were glued to the screen filming y/n in a Batlle shirt.
Swedish and Spanish fans alike snapped photos and cheered excitedly as Ona grinned widely, her cheeks pink from all the phones directed at her.
Eventually things calm and the game begins, the harsh reality of football making y/n relieved she didn't follow her sister's footsteps as she watches Ona fall to the floor again.
y/n lets out an excited scream at the goal scored, her and Mapi jumping up and down excitedly as people once again film the woman cheering.
Finally half time rolls around and y/n can't help but sigh in relief at the fact there was a respite for the players who were now 1-1.
y/n and Mapi grabbed some drinks, and took some photos with fans before sitting back down and talking away the half time rest. Unaware of social media storming.
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twitter/X:
username1: Y/N ???????? ONA?????? AGHHHHHHHHHHH
username2: DID NOT EXPECT BABY PUTELLAS TO BE WEARING AN ONA SHIRT!!
username3: Dios mío, no puedo, pero ¿su hermana es la capitana?
Oh my god, I cannot! But her sister is the captain??
^
username4: ¡Lo sé! Me pregunto cómo reaccionó Alexia.
I know! I wonder how Alexia reacted?!
^
username5: ¡Con lo cercanas que son Alexia y y/n, estoy seguro de que ella reaccionó bien!
With how close Alexia and y/n are I am sure she reacted well!
username6: y/n batlle! y/n batlle! Cute!!
username7: ¿Cómo ninguna de nosotras adivinó?
How did none of us guess?
^
username8: Todas somos idiotas
We are all idiots :)
See more comments...
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y/n bit at her fingernail worriedly as she watched Mariona race forward, the ball bulging at the back of the net just as the clock hit 90 minutes + 6.
y/n jumped up excitedly, her and Mapi screaming in excitement as the crowd erupted in shock and excitement, screams of victory echoing as the Swedish team slumped in upset and y/n felt bad for them.
Mapi and y/n ran down to the barrier of the friends and family section, Alexia moving to her sister and standing on the railing so the two could share a tight hug.
Ona pulls herself up next to Alexia, y/n and her sharing a smile as y/n pulls away from her sister, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she does so.
y/n then looks at Ona and grins, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her lips which sends the crowd crazier as Ona grins into the kiss.
The two pull away, noses brushing each other as they share several giggles at the cheers and y/n can't help but sigh in relief as she pulls away grinning at the cheers which echoed.
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y/n just posted
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Liked by marialeonn16, alexiaputellas and 3,128,199 others
tagged ona.batlle
y/n Instantáneas de casi un año de amor 🩷
Snapshots of almost a year of love
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ona.batlle just posted
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Liked by, alexiaputellas, lucybronze and 900,377 others
tagged y/n
ona.batlle Un año de felicidad contigo 🩷
A year of happiness with you
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END - hope you enjoyed xxx
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bellawoso · 9 months ago
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Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve
Alexia Putellas x fem!reader
Read part 1 : here
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Much to your Diego’s dismay, you did not end up calling Alexia, instead the jersey, adorned with a number that could change your life, was left screwed up at the back of your wardrobe.
You were going to call Alexia.
Until one of your other friends heard about it, and told you about the backlash and hate you would receive from some of Alexia’s devoted fans. In the end, you decided it wasn’t worth it, it was only a few years since you escaped your depressive cycle, you were not ever going to risk entering it again.
Truthfully, you regret ignoring Alexia, every time anyone hits on you, you always compare them to the blonde, Diego often calling you “pathetic” as you only spoke to her for 2 hours.
However, you realised that it’s too late to call her, and think of how weird the blonde would think you were if you called her a month later.
As once again you debated calling the midfielder, your door suddenly slammed open.
“¡Hola chica! Look I have tickets!”
As you inspected the tickets in Diego’s hand, your face contorted to one of disappointment;
England vs Spain tickets.
Fuck.
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Your England top had arrived just in time, you were going to wear a Spain one after Diego convinced you that you would be beaten up by the first Spaniard who saw you, you guess the England-Spain rivalry ran deep.
However, it felt a betrayal to your country to be clad in the red jersey, so you ordered one last minute, luckily you weren’t completely oblivious when it came to football, you knew of how Leah Williamson had captained England to a Euro’s victory.
So there you were, in blue denim shorts and your oversized Williamson Jersey almost reaching past your shorts.
It felt like you were cheating, which was stupid, you met Alexia for 2 hours, to push away the feeling of guilt you slipped on a jacket and made your way downstairs.
Diego only rolled his eyes, and sighed in disapproval at your jersey choice.
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Alexia was excited for her return which she had been informed of a month prior to the match, but everyone on the team had noticed a change in the captains mood.
Except only Jana knew the cause for her sudden sadness.
Alexia didn’t understand why your rejection stung so much, maybe it was because the two-time ballon d’or winner wasn’t used to it, or maybe it was because the whole two hours you were together, she had imagined a relationship with you. It felt too real, and she cursed herself for grieving something that never happened in the first place.
She pushed all of those thoughts to the side, and instead focused on the match ahead of her, it was only a friendly, but the idea of being able to hold the win over Lucy and Keira’s heads when they returned to Barcelona felt euphoric.
What she didn’t expect was to see you in the crowd, worse of all, in a Leah fucking Williamson jersey.
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Spain were one nil down at half time. which was frustrating for Alexia, having to watch from the sidelines with promises of being brought on for the final 45 minutes, however as she stepped on the pitch, her attention was drawn to a white jersey, in a sea of red, only a few rows up.
You stuck out like a sore thumb, it was extremely hard to miss you. So when Alexia laid eyes on you, her heart stopped for a second, and the screams and cheers of the stadium became muffled sounds in her ears.
As you turn around to face Diego, Alexia can just make out the England captain’s last name on your back, bile rises to the Spaniard’s mouth and she quickly turns away.
A newfound determination to outdo the English Captain, to try prove to you that the only jersey you should be proud to wear should be hers.
Call it jealousy. Maybe. But whatever it was fuelled Alexia to score 2 more goals by the end of the match.
2-1 to Spain.
When you saw Alexia step out on the pitch, your breath immediately hitched in your throat, sending you into a coughing fit, which received a knowing chuckle from Diego.
“You fumbled amiga”
Honestly, you regretted teaching him some English slang, he used it against you constantly, and often laughed at himself after seeing you scowling.
When the match ended, Diego was quick to drag you to the stands, he was a big fan of Aitana Bonmati, and wanted her signature badly.
Although you were happy for him when the brunette midfielder came over to where you two were, you froze at seeing Alexia’s friend from the match, who was walking over with Aitana.
When Jana laid eyes on you, she knew what she had to do, she was quick to sprint off and get Alexia, who was talking to Lucy and Keira, and teasing them of the loss.
Alexia was no where near as nervous as you were, the blonde didn’t need to be, you rejected her, even though she was positive that you were returning her flirty comments at the past match.
The Spaniard was sure that you were in the wrong, you should feel guilty for leading her on, so she was quick to confront you when she saw you.
“You didn’t call, and I’m pretty sure I told you to wear better clothing colours”
You internally cringed at how straight to the point the blonde was, and couldn’t help but blush as she called you out for ignoring her.
“I’m sorry, I was nervous and by the time I felt ready to call, I figured it would be too late”
“I don’t know if I’m more upset about you didn’t call because you were nervous, or the fact that you have Leah Williamson’s name on your back”
“Get me a better one then” you replied, whilst looking down at her jersey and back at her with a grin.
Alexia quickly stripped off her jersey, as you took off yours too, luckily you wore a tank top under it, Alexia’s eyes quickly dropping to your exposed chest.
“Your not subtle you know?”
“Who said I was trying to be?” The blonde was quick to reply back.
You only chuckled in response, and slipped on Alexia’s jersey, doing a little spin “How do I look?”
“Beautiful, much better wearing the jersey you belong in”
You weren’t sure if Alexia truly meant that, or if her extremely forward words were due to English not being her first language, but either way your face flushed deep crimson in retaliation to her comment.
The click of a pen lid being taken off woke you from your trance, and you peered up at Alexia, who tugged you closer by your waist, and quickly scribbled down her number once again.
“Pot favor, call me this time, promise?”
“I promise Ale, I will even let you choose the colour scheme of my outfit when we go out” you quipped back with a smile.
With a smirk, the blonde midfielder threw the England jersey on the floor, and walked away to meet Jana so they could walk into the locker room together.
Diego quickly ran towards you, only to pick you up and swing you around.
“I told you she would want you amiga! Your a snack!”
“Diego please never call me that again”
“Shut up! You should be thanking me, with out me, she would have never re-given you her number”
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sccpmccabe · 3 months ago
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they're trying SO, SO SO FUCKING HARD ending us is desperate, shameful.
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mbsneur · 2 months ago
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Intimate Control pt.2
Alexia Putellas x Reader
I have now completed Part Two and would be grateful for any feedback you may have. I am struggling to come up with new ideas, so I would be very happy to hear from you about which Woso player you would like me to write about and what you would like me to include. Thanks!🩵
Warnings: Smut18+ minors DNI, rough sex
My Masterlist
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You made your way to the kitchen, eager to follow Alexia's instructions. You unbuttoned your blouse and took off your underwear, your heart racing with anticipation. After a few minutes, Alexia came into the kitchen with your longest strap-on, you two own.
Your eyes widen with excitement as you notice how you immediately get wet again. Seeing Alexia like this fills your heart with joy. She comes closer and closer to you, and you stand next to your dining table, filled with anticipation.
She grabs your hips and pulls you closer to her. She kisses you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth with wild abandon. You taste yourself a little bit on her lips.
As she lets go of you, her lips are wet and swollen. She grins at you and whispers, "Turn around, amore." She turns you so that your belly touches the cold table. You hiss from the sudden touch. Her lips rest on your neck, and you relax into her kiss. Her hand moves from your tailbone to your shoulders with a jerk. She bends you over the table with a thud, and your face lands on the tabletop.
You take a deep breath and clench your hands against the table. Alexia's hand moves to your bum and squeezes it hard, you whimper softly, trying to see what is happening.
Her finger pulls out a strip and finally pushes it into the wet folds of your pussy, making you groan
Alexia mumbles something in Spanish, "Joder, you are so wet," she says, moaning slightly, and you moan, trying to push against her fingers, but her hand, holding your bottom, pushes you back against the table
"Be patient. I'll give you what you want," she says, her voice firm and confident. She pushes her middle finger into your tight hole, fingers you slowly and deliberately, and your pussy tightens at the thought of her fucking you with her strap.
She adds another finger and pumps into you at a relentless pace, sending shivers through your body. You cry out at the sudden stretch and roll your eyes into the back of your head, feeling the pleasure radiate through your entire body. You realise your pussy is dripping around Alexia's finger, a delicious sensation that makes you even more aroused.
"ale fuck you feel so fucking good," you moan, your body slamming against the edge of the table with every bump, you are sure you will have blue marks on your hips tomorrow, her fingernails boring into your backside, moaning mercilessly
"Should I fuck you with three fingers?" she asks, her voice slightly out of breath. She waits for your answer.
"Y-yeah" you stutter, pressing your face back on the table.
"Mh do you want me to fill your tight pussy completely," she says devilishly as you moan at her words she slaps you hard on your arse "Use your words like a good girl," she says as you moan in pain and desire "ale fill me completely.
"ay so you can be a good girl," she says, her smile widening as her third finger slides into your wet hole. "It feels so good."
As your words fell, she started pumping hard and fast into you, her three fingers stretching you out. The sounds of your wet pussy spread through the whole room, and Alexia's eyes widened even more.
Your moans get louder and your legs start to shake. "Alexia, I'm close. Don't stop."
Alexia hums and your walls clench around her fingers as she realises you're almost there. She pulls her fingers out.
"Ale, no, no, no Don't do this," you demand, grabbing her hand and pressing it against your core again. You're a shaking mess. Alexia just laughs at your desperation and presses your hand back down on the table.
you make moaning noises and lay your face back on the table she pulls your folds apart and strokes her strap against them you moan slightly and she pushes her strap into you until it hits the handle
"Fuck," you moan with pain that turns to pleasure as Alexia pumps into you so fast you can't even get used to the feeling.
She grabs your hips hard, taking control. She pumps hard into you, her hips slamming against yours with every thrust, driving you wild. You bite down on your bottom lip and let out little whimpers.
alexia's head falls back because the buckles hit her clitoris with each thrust she grunts and thrusts harder into you you can barely stay on your feet
Alexia's head falls back as the buckles hit her clit, she grunts and thrusts harder, barely staying on her feet.
"Look what a slut you are, you take my cock so needily," she says moaning and her words send a shiver down your spine as one of her hands grabs your ponytail And then, without a second thought, she pulls you up and presses you against her chest. Your head leans into her neck and your moans are shrill and loud. Alexia still pushes into you from behind. "Ale, let me come this time, please," you say, your voice tearful. Alexia grins at your words.
"Cum for me," she demands, pulling you closer to her. Your legs tremble involuntarily and your hands grip the edge of the table. Your orgasm builds up more and more, and your stomach tightens. After a few more thrusts, you come with a few screams of Alexia's name.
Alexia is thrusting hard into you and her breathing is irregular. You tap her on the thigh and your vision is clouded. You're sensitive. "Ale, i-" you say and feel tears welling up in your eyes. "Just a little, please, amor." She grabs your arm and turns you around, pushing you down on the table by your thighs. You wrap your arms around her neck, your bodies pressed together. She looks you straight in the eye, her forehead sweaty with a few baby hairs stuck to it.
Her breathing turns into a small moan, and you feel how close she comes. She still grips your hips, and your whimpers of sensitivity increase. Alexia presses her head against your shoulder and gently bites into it. You feel her come, her legs press against the table and start to tremble. You hear her moan softly until she finally lets herself fall all over you.
Tell me your opinion and ideas <3
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samkerrworshipper · 9 months ago
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the view between villages | alexia putellas x reader
based off of the tiktok edit…. tears have been shed in the making of this
warnings: horrificically brain numbing angst
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All Alexia can focus on his the sound of the indicator of the van that she’s in. Her whole body stretched out against the backseat of the van. Alexia wishes that she was able to take up one seat, that she didn’t need to be completely straightened out against the leather seats.
Mapi’s sitting in the back behind her, chattering off, but Alexia’s brain syncs her out.
Her knee feels fine, sure it can’t bend and it’s swelled up so fat that her skin is stretched tight across her knee but she’s not in pain.
All she’d been doing was shooting, and then she was on the ground and it wasn’t even that bad, until she was pulled up and took her first step and everything just felt wrong. Her knee buckled out underneath her, and before Alexia even felt true pain, she knew exactly what was happening.
Alexia’s not a religious person, she couldn’t even tell you how to pray, but from the moment her knee buckled out underneath her to now, she’s been praying, every single thought running through her mind is a pray that she’s not actually going through this.
Alexia and unstoppable are two words that have become synonymous in her mind, Alexia is the best, she is untouchable. She knows it, it’s all that she thinks about, when she wakes up, when she goes to sleep. Alexia is supposed to be a fucking god, she is supposed to be indestructible. Yet, sitting in the back of this van, she feels like she’s completely dissociated herself with the person that she’s supposed to be.
Alexia is sitting eyes wide open with one thing stuck in her mind, is this the end of her?
Alexia doesn’t need scans to know exactly what’s wrong, she felt the crunch, she heard the pop, she’s heard and seen what an acl injury looks like.
Mapi’s been trying to tell her that they don’t know yet, that she scans are needed to confirm it, but Alexia knows, she just knows that this is the end of her year, the end of her Euros, the end of everything she’s been working towards for the last three years, maybe the end of everything she’s worked her whole life for.
There is the critical part of her which is telling Alexia this is her fault, if she had of just trained a little bit harder, if she had of gotten in the extra hours in the gym earlier in the morning or taken more time with her shot none of this would be happening, if she wasn’t so sloppy she would be fine.
The whirring of an MRI machine is a noise that Alexia’s brain will never forget, it’s one that she’d never thought she’d have to hear, a sound that no athlete wants to experience.
Within the hour, Alexia is handed a diagnosis and prognosis, as well as a ticket back to Barcelona. Her Euros and year are over.
She doesn’t cry, even though Mapi’s voice is in her ear telling her that it’s fine if she does and okay if she wants to.
Alexia doesn’t want to cry, she doesn’t want this to be happening to her, how could this be happening to her?
She gets taken back to the hotel within the same van, her body extended across the three seats, crutches sitting on the floor below her and her knee tightly hugged by a compression sleeve.
Alexia doesn’t feel like herself, she doesn’t know who she is right now but it’s not her. Alexia is supposed to be strong, she is the greatest, the indomitable force of Barca and Spain.
She’s surrounded by her teammates once she manages to crutch her way into the dining room, it’s silent, Alexia is grateful for it, she’s not grateful for all the sad looks and hugs that she receives.
Alexia’s phone has stayed in the same spot for the last few hours, tucked into the pocket of her hoodie. She doesn’t want to look at it, the hundreds of messages, articles and calls from the people that she wishes would just disappear.
She doesn’t need anybody, she doesn’t need any stupid consolations telling her that she’ll come out better, that it’s just a bump in the road, that she’s got people to support her.
She doesn’t care, she couldn’t give less of a fuck because at the end of the day a simple text message isn’t going to change anything. It won’t change the fact that she’s completely ruptured the most important part of her body, after doing something that she does hundreds of time a day.
Alexia knows though that the next week is going to be a fucked up whirlwind and she needs to get her business in order and that includes calling her mother and sister.
She finds herself a table by herself in the dining room, tucked away in the corner, ordering Mapi to just give her some peace.
It’s the first words she’s spoken, Mapi had answered all the questions at the hospital, something Alexia was so grateful for, because she still didn’t know how to put exactly what she was feeling into words.
The phone rings twice before Eli picks up.
“Mami, I need you to come pick me up from the airport tomorrow.”
Alexia waits a few seconds, she’s unsure about whether or not Eli will have heard the news, technically her injury hasn’t been formally announced but most of the football world would know already.
“Okay, Ale, is everything okay?”
Alexia is grateful that her mother doesn’t ask much more, she doesn’t think she’d be able to handle it.
“I just need you to come get me tomorrow, my flight should land at around 1, if that works.”
Alexia’s relationship with her mother is one of love and support, her mother is always there for her, she’s the person that will pick Alexia up no matter how low she is, no matter how much she’s begun to hate herself and treat her like she’s the most amazing thing in existence.
“Me and Alba will be there, if you need anything call me.”
Alexia nods, it’s the first time today that she feels like she’s holding back tears. She doesn’t want to burden her family, it’s the last thing she wants to do, but everyone she knows she is leaving behind to return.
Mapi brings her dinner, she doesn’t touch it.
She can’t stomach her feelings, she knows she won’t be able to stomach food.
Once Mapi’s done with her own food, Alexia gets her to help her up to their room. She feels so numb, like she could stab herself in the heart twenty times and it would feel better almost, better than the all consuming pain that she’s experiencing all across her body. At least being stabbed would be some form of relief, like she’d actually be feeling the pain of what she’s going through, instead she’s forced to look down at her knee which feels normal, and detest it for being so much worse than it feels.
Alexia doesn’t sleep.
She lays awake in the hotel bed all night, her knee elevated with as many pillows as Mapi was willing to sacrifice from her own bed and an ice pack that isn’t really cold anymore pressed to her skin. Alexia’s brain just can’t turn off, she finds it hard enough to sleep when she’s thinking about football, but right now football isn’t the sole thought that is running laps around her brain, instead it’s what's next for her.
Alexia’s always been interested in coaching, maybe that’s her destiny.
She just can’t imagine herself coming back from this. Alexia prides herself on always being her best, so even if she does somewhat recover, if it’s not at the level that she expects for herself then she doesn’t want it, she’d rather sit on the sidelines for the rest of her life than be another sob story on the pitch, a player that’s discredited due to an injury.
Alexia has clawed tooth and nail for her status, for her respect on the pitch and she won’t sacrifice that. She’s considering all of her options, retirement, coaching, anything that doesn’t involve her on a pitch with a ball.
The flight home is horrific, Mapi refuses to leave Alexia’s side, making the decision to miss their game for the day to make sure that her friend makes it back to Barcelona in one piece.
Alexia loves Mapi, she’s one of her oldest friends, but the woman manages to make Alexia want to pull her hair out before they’ve even boarded their flight.
She doesn’t mean to snap at her, she really doesn’t, but Alexia was getting sick of the persistent doting and questions that Mapi was asking her non-stop, even after Alexia would blank her, not trusting her voice or her mind to answer the insistent questions that María sends her way. It’s when they are sitting at the gate of their plane, they’ve been waiting for nearly an hour because Mapi had insisted they get there early to allow for Alexia to crutch her way through Heathrow, even though she was provided with a ride to the gate from the airport staff and one of their transport carts.
Leaving Mapi extremely bored, she’d gotten snacks, went to the bathroom twice and checked Alexia’s luggage three times. She was at her wits end, and that apparently translated to trying to ask Alexia as many questions as humanly possible.
It’s when Mapi starts asking her about who’s going to help her with her recovery and where she’s going to live that Alexia just cracks.
“Mapi I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to answer questions and I really don’t want your company. I’ve done my acl, I’m aware of it, I don’t need to be reminded every goddamn second, I have crutches and a useless knee that is enough of a fucking reminder.”
Mapi recoils immediately, if Alexia wasn’t so blinded by her anger and intense mourning for her life then she would apologise, but she doesn’t feel any kind of remorse or guilt, she’s to absorbed with the feeling in her gut that that’s obliterating everything in Alexia’s brain.
It keeps Mapi silent, the woman resorting to only talking when it’s completely necessary.
She stays silent on the flight, choosing to recline in her first class seat besides Alexia after she’s gently gotten Ale situated in her seat with her chair fully reclined to take the pressure off of her knee.
The rest of the flight, she leaves Alexia to continue to run the laps in her brain. It’s a mental workout, nowhere near as the real work out that she could have gotten today on the pitch had she not of screwed up so royally yesterday.
The flight isn’t so great, Alexia’s leg is cramping, her headphones are flat and for the life of her she can’t sleep.
So she sits, pondering and thinking about the next few days.
When the plane lands, she’s never been more terrified to be home in her entire life.
Alexia, through and through is a Spanish girl.
She’s lived in Barcelona her whole life, she spends her holidays in Ibiza.
Spain is where she feels the happiest, she’s a homebody in the sense that unless it’s completely unavoidable due to work, she likes to be around her club and her friends and being in Barcelona is where that is most achievable.
She loves Barcelona, loves the city, loves the beaches, loves the quiet life but also party life that Barcelona gives.
Yet she finds herself completely detesting the idea of returning home, mainly because of what she knows is going to ensue when she has to step off the airplane and face her new normal.
Mapi helps her through the airport, she’s flying straight back to England, but she walks her way out of customs anyways, even with Alexia’s insistence that she doesn’t have to.
She grabs her bags for her, wheeling them through the airport, until she spots Alba and Eli sitting near the entrance of the airport.
As soon as the two of them spot Alexia they are up on their feet, rushing forwards.
Mapi notices the look of terror on Alexia’s face as the two people closest to her approach, it’s something that Mapi’s never seen before.
Alexia and her family are so close, so close that sometimes Mapi is envious of the relationship she holds with her mother and sister. Yet Alexia looks at them like they are the last people that she wants to be seeing and it worries Mapi.
Mapi’s been worried enough the last twenty four hours. She knows Alexia didn’t sleep, she hasn’t eaten and she hasn’t been talking to anybody, she’s swallowing up all the pain and anguish that she’s going through and shoving it down. It’s what Alexia does best, it’s how she’s handled the fame and stature so well, she compartmentalises better than anybody Mapi knows. It’s why she worries about Alexia more than anybody else, she knows the depths that Alexia will go to try and hide her pain and eventually, it becomes too much for her.
Mapi is always the one to pick up the pieces, the person who is inevitably there when Alexia finally breaks down. She goes through it with her and once it’s over, they both act like nothing has happened, even though Mapi knows it is so much more than that.
Alba makes it to Alexia first, completely disregarding the crutches and Alexia’s injury, instead opting to bring her into a crushing hug, Alexia doesn’t allow herself to relax into the hug like she normally would, instead the tenses up, praying for Alba to let go of her, to just leave Alexia be, to stop reminding her that instead of being hugged after being away from home so long like they would have in a couple of weeks, she’s being hugged because she’s failed, because she’s been unable to complete the one thing she was destined to do.
Alba hangs on for a lot longer than Alexia feels necessary, her younger sister holding onto her like she’s going to somehow run away if she lets go. Once done hugging Alexia, she moves onto Mapi, embracing her and allowing room for Eli to look at her daughter.
She doesn’t hug Alexia, she doesn’t say anything, she just looks her up and down as if to say ‘You’ve fucked up’ as if Alexia isn’t already aware.
Eli moves onto Mapi, deciding that whatever she needs to say or tell her daughter, it doesn’t need to be said now, it can wait till they’re in private.
“Maria, thank you, you’ll join us for lunch?”
Mapi shakes her head, she wishes she could take the invite, but her flight back to London leaves in just over an hour and she really doesn’t have the time considering she has to go back through security.
“No, unfortunately I am needed back in England, but I'll take a rain check? Take care of her for me, keep me updated Ale, i expect regular phone calls.”
Alexia rolls her eyes at Mapi, it makes her smile, it’s the first fragment of emotion she’s seen across her friends face in the last 24 hours and she’ll take anything she can get. She gives Alexia a short hug, not wanting to make her uncomfortable before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and saluting her family before walking back in the direction she’s come from.
Alexia feels a part of her leave with Mapi, the part of her team that Mapi had been keeping with her, and now she was gone.
Alba fussed over her the whole way to the car, Eli stays silent.
Alba is the one who takes all of her luggage, gets her stretched out against the backseat of her Cupra and checks time and time again that she’s clipped in properly.
Alexia zones it out in favour of going back to the place in her mind where she’s been hovering for the past while, the part of her brain designated to thinking about all of her possibilities right now. Retirement, coaching, rehab.
Those are the three options that just won’t leave her head, in order of preference.
She does this the whole ride back to her house, it keeps her grounded, keeps her from focusing on all of the outside noise that she’s so desperate to drown out.
The announcement of her injury came out this morning, she hasn’t checked her phone, she doesn’t want to, she knows what she’ll be met with and it’s not something she wants to have to deal with. Instead of feeling supported, it feels more like a chore, like she has to thank all of these people who are wishing her the best even though they’re probably all grateful that she’s been sidelined. Alexia isn’t a threat if she’s injured on the sidelines, she’s not helping her team to try and win a European championship from a hospital bed.
When they arrive at her house, Eli orders Alba to go out and buy some food and collect any essentials from her own home so that she can partially move into Alexia’s house for the time being. Alba doesn’t hesitate to obey her Mamí, Alexia knows that there is a reason beside Alexia’s lack of food and Alba’s lack of belonging at her house, she’s trying to get Alba away, it terrifies Alexia a little bit knowing that she’s now going to be forced to talk to her mother, one on one.
Eli helps Alexia out of the car, Alexia’s house, is thankfully, one story. It’s an annoyance in the fact that if it were two stories Alexia would have a much larger backyard, big enough that Alexia could run proper drills instead of having to go down to the local oval to get a proper workout in.
It’s convenient in that Alexia can practically be self-sufficient during her recovery and won’t have to worry about finding someone to help her up and down a staircase every time she wants to eat or leave.
Eli gets Alexia seated on her couch, her leg extended across the surface before going back to the car and retrieving her suitcases, leaving Alexia to continue thinking about her current situation.
When she returns, she drags one of Alexia’s foot stools until she’s sat down directly in front of her daughter. Alexia refuses to look her in the eyes, she just can’t, it hurts too much knowing that instead of her being in any other position, she’s here.
“Alexia, look at me.”
Alexia doesn’t, she can’t, it physically hurts her to picture her mothers face. Her mother has been there for her in every single crucial part of her life, all of her wins and triumph and best moments.
“Alexia I did not teach you to ignore me or not look somebody in the eye when they are talking to you.”
Alexia is desperate not to cry, she’s been holding out, for the purpose of conserving peace and mind, it’s just for the best. It’s a struggle dragging her eyes up from the floor to her mother, it’s a struggle not to break down then and there.
She manages it though, she has to do it, she’s Alexia Putellas, she’s an animal on the field, nothing is supposed to scare her.
So why is it that she suddenly feels terrified to admit how she’s truly feeling, to admit that she feels more helpless than she has in her entire life.
Eli’s face softens a little bit when Alexia’s eyes meet her, she recognises the pain in her daughter's eyes, it’s the same pain that was on her face the day that her father died, it’s a level of grief and sadness that Eli hates to see on anybody’s face, especially her daughters. Alexia’s world turned upside down when her father died, Eli swears from that day onwards her daughter changed, there was no longer room for leeway or jokes in Alexia’s life. She knuckled down, harder than anybody, it was how she’d become the football player she was, she’d worked every single day to get to where she was and to see her now completely and utterly shattered, it’s almost enough to kill Eli.
“Ale, you can do this, your papí would want you to do this.”
For once in her life, Alexia doesn’t care. Eli can see the complete disregard in her daughter's eyes, she knows that right now all Alexia wants is to give up and as bad as it is she knows that her father may be one of the only things that will convince her daughter to use her brain and really take a minute to think about what’s next for her.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Alexia is stubborn, she knows what she can and can’t do, she doesn’t need her Mamí to tell her.
“Too bad, we’re talking about it. Alexia, you my daughter, are the best in the world, you have something to fight for, something to return for, you will prove them all wrong, you must.”
Alexia’s household was one that had a never quit rule. It was drilled into her by her father, quitting was the most shameful thing any person could do, it was worse than losing or any other kind of shame, quitting was embarrassing.
Yet Alexia can’t find herself wanting anything more, she wants to quit, she wants this all to be over. Alexia’s brain, since before she can remember, has always been football. She wakes up thinking about football, she thinks about football in the shower, when she’s brushing her teeth, when she’s eating, when she’s training, when she sleeps. All Alexia thinks about is football, she’s obsessed, it’s insanity. Yet Alexia has always loved it, she’s prided herself on being the most consistent, the hardest worker, the person who never stopped. All she wants is for the constant football buzz to finally silence itself, she wants her brain to be quiet, it’s all she wants and yet somehow her thoughts are louder than ever.
“Mamí, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Alexia looks down at her knee, and then back up at her mother, her stupid fucking knee which has wrecked everything.
Alexia knows Spain is playing right now, and she wants to support her teammates more than anything, but she just can’t, she can’t put her team on and act like it’s nothing when really it means everything to her, it literally means everything, every part of her body, soul, heart and brain was so ready for that game and yet now she’s sitting on her couch with a fucked knee.
“Alexia, I need you to promise me, for your father, that you are not going to give up, that you are going to take this recovery as a bump, not a wall and push through.”
It’s so incredibly unfair using the memory of Alexia's father against her, because her mother knows that was her inspiration for everything, when he died something flipped in Alexia that made her who she has become, right now she doesn’t care though, nothing matters to her.
“Mamí, I’m tired.”
Alexia is tired beyond her sleep deprivation, everything else in her life has had her exhausted for years and right now, for the first time it’s all hitting her at full force and it’s more taxing than she could even begin to comprehend.
“Alexia, promise me.”
Alexia shakes her head, her eyes darting away from her mothers face so she doesn’t have to see the disappointment on her face.
“I can’t Mamí.”
Alexia tugs at the blanket on top of her, tugging it over her good and bad leg.
“Then you aren’t the daughter I raised because my daughter would at least try.”
Alexia expects her mothers words to hurt her, but they don’t, she’s already been telling herself the same thing, that she’s no longer the person everybody thought she was, she’s an imposter of who she used to be and there is absolutely no coming back from that.
Eli stands up, leaving Alexia on the couch in contemplation.
Alexia would love to say that her mothers words resonate with her, but they don’t. All Alexia can think about is herself, about her own problems, about her own life, she doesn’t care what anyone else thinks about it, not even her mother.
Alexia stays like that, on her couch, for hours.
Her mother makes her lunch, she doesn’t eat.
Alba returns and tries to talk to her, she ignores.
Her mother cooks her dinner, she doesn’t eat.
She just sits on the couch, thinking, the same thoughts over and over again.
Eventually, Alba forces her to go to bed, her younger sister struggles with Alexia’s weight but is determined to get her into bed, and she does after a bit of push and shove.
Alexia ends up in a similar position to the night beforehand, her bad knee laid on top of as many pillows as possible, ice pressed to it.
Alexia hates it, she hates it so much that she tries in vain to tear the pillows out from under her knee, but she just can’t, she’s too weak.
She collapses back into her pillows, the pillows that smell like Alexia’s perfume and a mix of grass and her body wash.
Alexia’s whole house has some resemblance of football in every single corner, whether it’s the case of trophies she’s won in the entrance, her cleats which are spread out everywhere, different pieces of memorabilia she’s got, kit bags, balls, barcelona kit, Alexia’s house is a shrine for football and right now there is nothing she wants more than to tear it all to pieces, she wants it all to be gone.
In one place, Alexia has started and ended it all.
Everything is over for her, every single dream, every single thing she yearned for at 16, it’s all gone. Alexia can’t believe in a god, no god would do this to her, no god would be so cruel as to condemn her to such a hell.
Alexia’s life is a rinse, lather and repeat for the days leading up to her surgery.
Her Mamí doesn’t talk to her, she force feeds her, makes sure she’s always got an ice pack pressed to her knee and that she’s sleeping. Alexia swears at some stage she begins to slip sleeping pills into her water because sleep that Alexia was running away from suddenly hits her at full force and she’s spending most of her days asleep on her couch.
When her surgery date comes around, she doesn’t feel anything, Mapi calls her, she doesn’t speak, Mapi does enough speaking.
Spain are looking like they’ll get knocked out in the early rounds, something that could have been avoided had Alexia been there, been with her team, instead of a hospital bed awaiting a surgery that would alter things far beyond just her knee.
Alexia wakes up groggy, her mother sitting at her bedside and her sister pacing back and forth at her bedside.
Alexia looks down at her knee and it’s bandaged up so tight and covered so heavily that she knows that this is going to be bad. She doesn’t get a break from her thoughts, they hit her full force, her brain works her out, keeps her going.
Alexia is home by the end of the day, hopped up on pain pills that make her feel even less, which she didn’t think was achievable. She sleeps for three days straight, it doesn’t help the never ending exhaustion she feels.
On day three, she’s forced out of bed to see a physio, the man is abrasive, rude and old. She doesn’t want to participate and all he wants is the pay check, they don’t get along.
He gives her a series of exercises that Alexia won’t do, he gives her pain pills that Alexia won’t take and gives Alexia a number for a psychologist that she will never see.
Alexia is back on her couch within an hour, Alba fussing over endlessly, even though Alexia has expressed her desire for independence multiple times.
By the end of week 2, she’s about ready to take a blade to her throat and quit.
She won’t do the exercises, as much as Alba tries to force her too, this creates some waves between her physio and herself. Alexia’s muscles are gone, she’s not bothered to regain them because why should she be? What does she need a muscle for if she doesn’t plan to use it again?
Alba is at her wits ends, so is Mapi.
María manages to squeeze a visit in during a spare day and what she sees when she arrives at Alexia’s is alarming, it terrifies her.
Alexia doesn’t talk, she doesn’t eat, she doesn’t move.
She thinks, all she does is sit and think.
She thinks about the anger, the people and things she’s lost, the people surrounding her, the air in her lungs, the rush of her blood.
Alexia thinks about everything and also nothing.
She likes it that way, she likes her brain all cloudy and foggy with disclosure. It’s her safety blanket.
At the two week point, Alexia forces her mother and sister out of her house, for her own safety and theirs.
The next day, she gets a knock on the door.
She ignores it, assuming it’ll be Alba trying to feed her or entertain her.
The knocking doesn’t stop, it goes on and on until Alexia’s brain is vibrating with the constant noise and she has no choice but to awkwardly crutch her way to her front door and open it.
Alba isn’t standing there, but another woman is.
“Hola, you’re Alexia Putellas?”
Alexia doesn’t know what to say, she’s been through plenty of media training, what to do if the paparazzi show up at her door, but you don’t look like a paparazzi.
“Yes, what can I do for you?’
You smile so brightly that Alexia isn’t quite sure how one person can look so happy in the current world you’re living in.
“Doctor Matthews sent me, I’m here for your physio.”
Alexia is about to argue, but you push your way past her door and into the threshold of her house.
“Doctor Matthews and I have an appointment tomorrow, not today, and it’s supposed to be in his office.”
Alexia was planning on cancelling it, or postponing it, like she does with most things these days.
“He’s made a change in your treatment plan, due to your refusal to do your exercises at home, Barcelona has advised that they would prefer you take part in a more home-based recovery.”
Alexia follows you back into her own kitchen, slightly shocked at your comfortability with letting yourself in.
“I’m good.”
You roll your eyes at Alexia, looking her up and down before setting down your bag on her counter.
“You haven’t been doing your exercises, I’m here to make sure you do, you can make this as hard as you like but I’m not leaving until you do.”
Alexia doesn’t like your assertiveness, doesn’t like that you are somehow able to make her feel more attentive then she has in three weeks.
Alexia can’t remember a single exercise she’s been given, she simply hasn’t cared to look at them.
“I don’t have any exercises.”
You roll your eyes once again and it makes Alexia feel more genuinely human then she has in a while.
“You do now, we can get started on the couch if you’d like?”
Alexia nods, she doesn��t know what else to do but nodding seems like a good idea.
“If you can just get yourself sat down and then we can get started.”
You nod towards Alexia’s couch, and she follows your direction, crutching over towards her couch and sitting down before swinging her good leg onto the cushions and then her bad one.
It’s probably the most activity Alexia has done in days, she feels inexplicably uncomfortable with you being so controlling over her, yet you don’t care.
“So Ms Putellas, assuming that you’ve done none of your exercises, I’d like to test your ability to straighten out your knee and bend it, does that sound okay to you?”
The smile, it’s like your lips are being stretched into a line that is inhumane.
“Alexia or Ale please, and I did the exercises with Doctor Matthews.”
Alexia wants to tell the physio who’s name she’s yet to learn that she’s been wearing her brace, she’s been staying off her knee, she’s been behaving. Yet she finds herself not saying anything, why should you care, why would you care? Alexia is just a bothersome patient that you are being forced to see, just another broken person.
“So once every couple of days? You do know that a successful acl recovery requires you to exercise more than once every few days. I assume somebody like yourself wants as quick and steady of a recovery as possible.”
Alexia doesn’t say anything, because she doesn’t know what she wants, if she’s being honest, she’s trying to prolong this recovery in an attempt to keep herself away from the pitch for as long as possible, she doesn’t want to be anywhere near a ball or anything resembling her sport that she once held so much love for but now she only holds resentment for.
Alexia flinches when your hands come into contact with her brace, slowly unstrapping the different pieces of velcro.
“Alexia, do you have any plans to play football again?”
Your question may sound rhetorical, but it’s a genuine one.
It’s a question that Alexia has been avoiding for weeks, the brain fog has been enough of a distraction.
“What does that matter?”
You manage to slip the brace off of Alexia’s knee, then the compression sleeve, revealing a swollen knee.
Her stitches had been removed a couple of days ago, leaving an ugly looking scar that Alexia couldn’t bear to look at.
It was just another reminder of her failure, the biggest reminder.
“I want to get you back onto the pitch, but Alexia, you don’t really seem like you want it.”
You don’t mention that you’ve been asked to visit Alexia at the request of her family and friends as well as Barcelona, this is what you’re good at, this is your specialty.
“You have no idea what I want.”
Alexia flinches when your finger flattens out across her scar, her knee jerking at the feeling of the most vulnerable part of her body being touched.
Alexia herself hasn’t dared to touch it, it’s the source of all of her hatred, the last thing she wants to do is touch it, because somehow that makes it all more real.
“Your scar has healed nicely, the surgical site is looking really good.”
You continue to prod around Alexia’s scar, before moving onto the rest of her knee, poking at different parts of the swelling.
“Alexia, do you want to get back on the pitch or do you want to spend the rest of your life on the sidelines?”
It’s another one of those questions that Alexia has purposely been avoiding, because what sort of question is that.
“Best footballer in the world, condemned to a life on the sidelines, that’s a pretty good front page headline, just saying.”
Alexia doesn;t know who or what gave you the nerve to behave so rudely, she just knows that you are getting on her nerves.
“I’m going to bend your leg now Alexia, tell me if you feel any discomfort.”
Before Alexia can protest, your hand is resting underneath her knee and gently lifting it from a 180 degree angle upwards.
“Stop-stop I’m not ready for this.”
You don’t stop, even with Alexia reluctance, gently pushing her stiff knee upwards, finding zero resistance.
“Seems like you're pretty ready to me.”
You smile as you get Alexia’s knee fully bent, her foot flexing to support the weight and steady the movement.
Alexia doesn’t like anything about it, she doesn’t like the fact that you brazenly have taken charge of Alexia like she’s a child.
“Feels good, yeah?”
Alexia doesn’t nod, she doesn’t think it feels good, it feels like bending her knee has just become twenty times harder and there is nothing good about that.
“I’ll take the silence as a yes, have you started walking yet, without your crutches?”
Alexia shakes her head, walking is not something that has been on her mind the last few days.
“Well, let’s try and get you walking then.”
You stand up, extending Alexia’s crutches to her and waiting patiently for her to stand up.
Alexia doesn’t, she’s sick of being bossed around like she’s got absolutely no say in her recovery.
“No.”
You cock your head at her, silently questioning her.
“You want to return to a football pitch in the next 9 months then you are going to get up Alexia.”
Alexia shakes her head.
“I’m not walking today, it’s not happening, I’m not ready, I can’t.”
You take a step back, one of your eyebrows lifting up your forehead.
“As much as I love the can do attitude, if you don’t walk today then you’ll walk tomorrow, I’m not here to make suggestions Alexia, I’m here to rehabilitate you, whether you feel like you’re ready for it or not.”
Alexia shakes her head, again, she wants this person out of her house, effective immediately.
“I don’t have to do what you tell me, get out of my house.”
You laugh at her, you have the fucking audacity to laugh at Alexia.
“Technically no, but your life will be a lot harder if you don’t listen to me and your Mamí gave me her explicit permission to be in here as much as I like, as well as Barcelona. We’ll be doing daily rehab, because you can’t be trusted to do it on your own, so you can walk today, you can walk tomorrow, you can refuse to, but we’re going to do it at some stage and you’re only making your life tougher with everyday you delay yourself.”
You manage to leave Alexia speechless, your arms crossed over your chest, head cocked and eyebrow raised.
“You don’t have to walk, but just get up please, at least move around on your crutches a little bit.”
Alexia meets you halfway with that offer, allowing you to help her stand up and hobble out from her couch and into her kitchen.
Alexia is once again shocked when you walk directly into her kitchen and begin to look through her fridge and pantry.
“You’ve got no food.”
Alexia knows that, the last thing on her mind the last couple of days has been food, most of her meals have come from take out meals that Alba has brought around on her random drop in visits.
“Aren’t you my physio, not a nutritionist?”
You pivot, turning around and eyeing Alexia up and down.
“I’d like to say my services extend beyond traditional physiotherapy, I work in an unconventional space, which calls for unconventional methods.”
The complete confidence you portray makes Alexia wary, and a little bit intimidated.
“Can you take your unconventional methods elsewhere?”
You snort at Alexia, but don’t object.
“I can, I’ll be back in the morning, be ready for more of a workout, I’d get your beauty sleep. I’ll give you my phone number, if you need anything, at any time of day, whatever it is, I’m here if you need me.”
You smile at Alexia, writing your phone number down in her phone which she passes to you, before collecting your things and making your way to Alexia’s door, waltzing your way out like you’d never been.
That night, when Alexia’s laying in bed you’ve managed to insert yourself into her constant brain chatter, you feel like a figment of her imagination more than anything, you insert yourself into her thoughts in a way nobody else has been able to do since her injury and it honestly confuses her more than she thinks possible.
Alexia struggles to sleep, as she does every night, tonight it's for a slightly different reason. She just can’t figure out how or why you’ve suddenly made your way into her life and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.
Alexia isn’t happy when at 9am the following morning there is a non stop knocking at her door, lately, the Catalan has been spending as much time in bed as possible. There is nothing to wake her up, Alba’s taken Nala with her so that her dog can get proper care, Alexia has nothing to wake up for besides her bladder and water if she’s very desperate.
Recently, she’s been sleeping till 12 if possible, getting up between 12-3/4 and then going back to her bed to toss and turn until she finally falls asleep.
It’s tiring, doing nothing, acting like everythings normal when in reality it’s all been turned upside down for her. Alexia hasn’t cried, she can’t, she knows that as soon as she shows any real evidence of how she truly feels it’ll all crack, it’ll all turn into one big mess that she won’t be able to wade her way out of.
Alexia almost trips on four different obstacles on her floor as she crutches her way to the door in a half asleep state, struggling to keep her eyes open as she makes it to her front door.
You’re standing behind her door, multiple bags in hand and the same smile from yesterday on your face.
“Alexia! Bon dia.”
Alexia’s not awake enough to really even take in your presence, let alone reply to the amount of happiness behind your voice.
For the second time in less than 24 hours, you push your way past Alexia and into the threshold of her house, lugging the multiple bags through the hallway until you unceremoniously dump them on her kitchen table.
Alexia crutches her way into her kitchen, still confused by your sudden presence and energy.
“I’ve got food for you, I can make breakfast or we can go for a walk to a cafe and get you out of the house.”
Alexia hasn’t left her house since it happened for anything besides physio appointments, she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t want to face a real world, a world where she’s supposed to be a football player and instead she’s a invalid.
“I can make my own breakfast.”
You open Alexia’s fridge, beginning to unpack the exorbitant amount of food that she’s bought.
“Your focus today is to walk, I’ll focus on breakfast.”
Alexia frowns, a big frown, the last thing on her agenda for today had been to walk, the first thing had been to get a little bit more sleep but that’s already been taken from her.
“I’m not walking today.”
Alexia doesn’t want to have to relearn how to walk, the only time she thinks it’ll ever be acceptable for her to struggle to walk is when she’s 90 and her bones are old and unusable.
“Are you not? I’m fairly sure you are, according to my planner for today.”
Alexia settles herself on one of her island stools, sick of standing and bearing weight.
“You can’t make me walk.”
You shrug at her.
“Technically no, but I beg to differ. Any allergies?”
Alexia shakes her head no, to both questions, you nod your head at her.
“You can’t keep yourself in crutches forever, I imagine you want to get out, go to a pitch and kick a ball or something. Being in your house without any entertainment can’t be much fun.”
Alexia begs to differ, being in her house is the only place she feels safe right now, leaving terrifies her, it makes her feel more vulnerable then she’s comfortable with.
She watches as you pull out some of the groceries you’d tucked away in Alexia’s fridge, placing them out on her countertop before moving into her shelves and finding the tools and pans you needed.
“You haven’t even told me your name and you are in my kitchen making me breakfast.”
You turned and looked up at Alexia, the same smile spread across your face.
“Doctor y/n, y/l/n.”
Alexia nods, she feels a little bit more at peace now that she knows something about you, in comparison to absolutely nothing.
“What are your interests? If we’re going to be seeing each other so frequently then I’d like to know the person I’m with.”
You start to mix together the food, keeping eye contact with Alexia as you do so.
“My job is my life.”
Alexia doesn’t like that answer.
To be fair, anybody who had asked Alexia that same question would have received the same answer in the last fifteen years.
Football is Alexia’s life, or was.
She doesn’t think it is anymore, or she doesn’t really know, it’s one of the big questions constantly circulating in her brain.
“You must have things you do beyond this.”
You shrug at Alexia, this isn’t supposed to be about you, it’s supposed to be about her.
“I enjoy my job, I enjoy rehabilitating people, it’s what I’m good at, if there was a ballon d’or for what I do then I would win it, nobody does my job like I do.”
Alexia believes you, she believes every word that leaves your mouth. The confidence you breathe isn’t over crowding, it’s refreshing, she finds herself feeling more level headed around you then she has in weeks.
“But, you have something else.”
Alexia knows that whilst her life used to be football, and she would define it as so, she still had other things, a party here and there, her family, her dog, food. She has other things that added to her success in her sport.
“I used to dance, the ballet and whatnot, until I tore both of my achilles. That’s why I do what I do. I understand what it’s like to want to spend every single day after an injury thinking about your existence, thinking about what the point is in living if you aren’t defined as your sport anymore. My job is my purpose.”
Alexia doesn’t know what her purpose is anymore, it used to be football, her father, the history behind it all. She doesn’t know if that’s her purpose anymore, she doesn’t think it is. She wants a purpose, she wants to be as sure as you and decide that she’s going to devote herself to helping other people like you do, but she can’t, she doesn’t even see herself leaving her house in the next month, let alone trying to help other people.
The omelette you make Alexia is so delicious that Alexia doesn’t even really notice she’s eating until all of the food is sitting in the bottom of her stomach and she suddenly feels sick.
That's the reason Alexia hasn’t been able to eat, the sickness, the gut rotting feeling that eats at her after any food touches her lips.
There’s no explanation for it, Alexia just hates the idea of nourishing herself, nourishing a body that she’s grown to hate so heavily.
Once Alexia is done eating, you walk around to her, smiling in a way that makes Alexia slightly worried.
“We’re going to walk.”
Alexia shakes her head, although you don’t waiver.
“Up, get up, on your crutches, in the hallway.”
Alexia only obeys for the purpose of keeping the peace that she’s desperate to have a balance of in her home.
She makes it to the middle of the hallway when you tell her to stop, walking up to her and swiftly pulling her crutches out of her hands and walking to the opposite end of the hallway.
“Walk to me.”
Alexia realises your plan, she’s not in reach of leaning on either of the walls beside her without taking a step, she’s stuck, she takes a step or she stays stood.
“Give me my crutches.”
You put them back down against her island, standing with your arms crossed over your chest at the end of her hall.
“Walk to me and you get them back.”
Alexia looks down at her feet, her good one is doing all of the work to support her weight, her bad leg is hardly bearing any weight whatsoever.
Alexia honestly doesn’t know if she could put her foot down, if she could share some of the weight, there is a mental block in her head telling her that something terrible is going to happen if she does, that she’s going to retear her acl or break her knee.
The scariest thought in her mind though, is the thought that everything will be fine, that Alexia is going to be able to walk, that nothing is going to be wrong and she’s going to take a step and it’ll be okay.
The thought terrifies her, because if nothings wrong, then that means that her recovery is going as it should, that she’s on track, that she’s expected to walk and fucking try instead of just slowly fading away into nothing.
“I need my crutches.”
You shake your head, your eyes squinting as you look her up and down.
“Alexia, try and walk for me.”
Alexia looks down at her bare feet, her feet which are holding her body up, without the help of her crutches.
It’s more that she doesn’t want to walk in comparison to feeling like she actually can’t walk.
It’s then that she takes a step.
Alexia’s never been held back by the things that are hard, the things she doesn’t want to do, because that’s what’s always made her so great.
She supposes that if you’re as determined as you say, then she’s going to walk, whether she wants to or not.
The first thing she realises is that it doesn’t hurt, it’s uncomfortable, sore and weird, but it doesn’t hurt in the way that she feels like it should.
One foot in front of the other.
That’s all it is, a foot in front of the other.
Yet, as soon as she does it, something washes all over her.
Her team, her memories, her love for everything that she does.
Football is the only thing on Alexia’s mind, except it’s not about how Alexia can be better, it’s not about what Alexia can do next time she’s on the pitch, it’s not about Alexia’s need to train harder or put in more work. It’s about the love, the atmosphere, the people that she knows and loves and surrounds herself with. The things she’s lost, the people she knows, the people that have surrounded her through it all.
Alexia looks up at you, your grin somehow grown even larger as Alexia slowly, but surely steps her way closer to you with every small bit of meterage that she makes up.
When she makes it to the end of the hallway, you’re there to steady ehr, both on her feet and her mind. Alexia doesn’t reach for her crutches, she steadies herself briefly before making her way back to her couch and taking a seat.
She can’t deal with the praise that she can hear you throwing at her, not with the blood that’s rushing through her ears and the buzzing in her head as the thought of football, or her football memories bounces around in her brain.
Is she ready to let that all go? Disappear from her sport completely and just give up the people and memories that she’s grown to love so deeply? She doesn’t know.
Alexia feels like a broken record, it all goes straight to her head and she can’t get it out.
Alexia supposes she must send herself into some kind of panic attack, because before she can even try to compartmentalise or explain any of her thoughts to herself, she’s fucking crying.
It’s the one thing she’s been avoiding with all of her might, and yet she’s bawling, tears that she detests dripping straight down her face.
If Alexia hates crying, then crying in front of people quite literally makes her want to slit her throat.
Yet here she is, crying on her couch and struggling to take control of herself whilst you take a seat beside her, a hand on her shoulder rubbing circles into her skin through her cotton sleep shirt.
“Alexia, deep breaths.”
Alexia doesn’t want to breathe, or she doesn’t feel like she can, everything is so much harder to do when she’s so in her head, it makes it all so much more difficult.
“Breaths, come on Alexia, focus on your breathing, you can do it.”
Alexia’s never reacted well to being comforted during a breakdown, as a kid she would quite literally lock herself in a wardrobe or some small confined space until she calmed down, Alba would try and hug her, her mother would try and bathe her in random compliments and her father would just be there, she hated it though. She hated pity, she hated attention that wasn’t focused on achievement or greatness,
Yet you somehow don’t make her feel like that, your hand is comfortable and your words are breezy, there are no guarantees that everything is going to be okay, or attempts to rationalise whatever it is that Alexia is feeling, there is just comfort.
Alexia gets herself under control, in a matter of a couple of minutes, but the damage is already done, she’s well aware.
As soon as her breathing evens out and her tears stop falling you remove yourself from her, squatting down directly in front of her, looking at her on eye to eye level.
“21 steps.”
Alexia nods, 21 steps, 21 fucking steps.
“That’s a lot of steps for a woman who tried to tell me she couldn’t walk.”
Alexia tries her hardest to glare at you, but it doesn’t work, not with her red and swollen eyes.
“Never again.”
You snicker, the smile returning to your face.
“3 weeks and 21 steps, you don’t want to know what I can do in a matter of months, I’ll get you back on that field Alexia, better than ever.”
Alexia nods, taking a deep breath through her nose.
“What if I don’t want it?”
It’s the first time she’s admitted that allowed and it’s hard, it’s hard to even utter the words that break up her relationship with her sport.
“Then you are stupid, we can get you back to where you were, I know that sounds ridiculous, but I will get you there, if you want it, if you try hard and trust me.”
Alexia nods, because she feels like she has to more than anything.
“If I do it, I want one thing in return.”
Your eyebrow raises up.
“What do you want?”
Alexia’s never felt more comfortable with a person in her life, it’s a trait she wants in her physio, but also one she’s searching for in another walk of her life. She realised that the minute your hand fell on her body when she was stressing, that somehow you just understood her. Whether it was the injury, the sporting commitment or the work ethic, there were overlaps that Alexia couldn’t be overlooked.
“Let me take you on a date.”
You falter for a second, something Alexia is yet to have seen in the 24 hours she’s met you.
“I don’t date clients.”
Alexia is persistent, something she prides herself on.
“Make an exception for me, if you can make me as good as I was then you’ll let me take you on a date as a form of repayment.”
You roll your eyes.
“I’m already getting paid plenty by your club and family.”
Alexia frowns.
“Please.”
Alexia doesn’t like to beg, she saves begging for the people below her.
“Fine, if you listen to me for a whole 9 months then I’ll let you take me on a date, if you don’t hate me by the time we get there.”
Alexia smiles.
“I’m already planning it out in my head.”
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alotofpockets · 8 months ago
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Regret | Alexia Putellas x Reader & Leah Williamson x Best Friend!Reader
Summary: Where Alexia regrets breaking up with you.
A/n: happiest of birthdays to @greynatomy 💗 Also pretend that everything in italics is actually said in spanish :)
Woso masterlist | Words: 2.8k
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You checked your phone when you got back to the locker room after practice. The name you were hoping to see wasn’t among your notifications, so you dropped it back in your pocket with a sombre look. Leah noticed the action she had repeatedly seen over the past couple of days, and decided that she had waited long enough to not ask questions. “Movie night at my place tonight.” By the way she didn’t say it in the form of a question, you knew there was no getting out of this. “Fine, but you’re ordering pizza.” Leah smiled, having achieved what she wanted, “You know I would never say no to pizza.” 
That’s how you found yourself in front of the apartment you knew all too well. When you moved from Barcelona to England just six months ago, Leah had taken you in for the first few weeks, until you found a place in London. Your national teammate Laia had offered as well, but as much as you loved her you took the bed offered by Leah over the offer of her couch. Which ended up being a great decision because you and Leah got close right away, and you would call her one of your best friends currently. You check your phone once more, hoping for that one name to show up, but it wasn’t there so you used the spare key to let yourself into Leah’s place.
“I’ll be out in a minute.” Leah yelled out from her bedroom. You quickly put a fake smile on your face when you heard her walking towards you. Leah pretended to not notice for now, and greeted you like nothing happened. She hoped that in the comfort of a one on one hang out you would open up to her on your own, but when you were half way through the movie, and you still hadn’t said anything, she decided that she had given you enough time to come to her. So, the next time your phone buzzed, and your face fell without opening the notification, she paused the movie. “Okay, what’s going on?” You look anywhere but at her, “Nothing is going on Lee, let’s just watch the movie.” 
However, Leah wasn’t going to move on so quickly. “You keep checking your phone, and then looking disappointed, and don’t tell me I’m wrong because I’ve been noticing it all week. Please just tell me what’s going on. Is it Ale?” Your eyes snapped up at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. The broken look behind them said enough for Leah to know that it had everything to do with Alexia. “What did she do? Do I need to fly to Barca to knock some sense into her?” You sigh in frustration, “It isn’t exactly what she did, it’s what she hasn’t done.” Leah was ready to listen and nodded for you to continue. “So, she’s barely spoken to me all week. No video calls, or regular calls, just a couple texts here and there. I keep trying to have a normal conversation with her, and I just get short answers. I’ve asked if she’s okay, and she just keeps saying that everything is fine.” Tears well in your eyes. “It’s not fine though. It can’t be fine, if she’s literally shutting me out.” 
Your phone lights up in the middle of your conversation, and both of you stare at the message that popped up on your screen. 
Alexia: Can we talk?
The dreaded message that you were expecting to receive in the back of your mind. Though you didn’t know the extent of the talk she wanted to have, you knew it couldn’t mean something good after this week. “Are you okay?” Leah put her hand on your knee. “No I’m not, but let’s just get this call over with.” She nodded in understanding, with a squeeze of your knee she got up. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
Y/n: Sure, call me
In the back of your mind you knew exactly what this conversation was going to result in, Alexia had been pulling away from you, so there was only one logical outcome of this call for you. You picked up the video call, “Hey.” You left out all nicknames, not wanting to put in unnecessary effort, plus it’s not like she said 'hi' before asking you if you could talk. “Hi y/n, oh you’re not home, we can just talk later.” It felt like a stab in your chest, hearing her use your first name. With a shake of your head you say, “It’s fine, let’s just get this over with, Ale.” 
Alexia started shuffling around nervously. “I’m sorry to do this over a call, but I think we need to break up.” There it was, the words you had seen coming, but still hurt more than you could have imagined. You stared blankly at your screen, not really knowing what to say. Alexia understood, and continued talking. “It’s just been hard on me to do this whole distance thing. There’s a lot going on, and I just need you here by my side. I know I can’t ask you to move back, because you deserve to play at your dream club. So, I think that what’s best for me right now is for us to let each other go.” Tears were now rolling down your cheeks. “Why is the first I’m hearing of this while you’re breaking up with me? I thought communication was so important to you. How long have you been feeling this way?” There was an anger to your tone that made Alexia not be able to keep eye contact. “I didn’t come to this decision rashly, if that’s what you’re asking.” You blink away the tears, your sadness making room for anger. “How long, Alexia?” You stared at her angrily until you got an answer. “About a month.” 
“You are unbelievable. How could you just not say anything? You literally didn’t even give us a fighting chance.” The tears were back. “I’m sorry.” Alexia said softly. “Save your sorrys, they’re not going to fix this.” She nodded, “I know.” You close your eyes, “I guess this is it then.” With a defeated sigh you open your eyes again. “I’m really sorry.” You roll your eyes, “Save it. I’m going to hang up now, I need some space.” With a shaking finger you pressed the end call button without giving Alexia a chance to respond. 
After giving yourself a minute you make your way over to Leah’s room, which you enter after a soft knock. You found her sitting with her headphones on, even though she didn’t understand Spanish, she still wanted to give you your space, which you appreciated. Leah didn’t need to hear you say the words, she could read on your face that it was exactly what you had been thinking. “Oh love, come here.” She patted the bed and opened her arms. You laid down without a second thought, and let her hold you tight. In the comfort of her arms, your tears flowed freely. 
You stayed the night at Leah’s, you didn’t have to ask, and she didn’t have to offer, it just was. Leah had fallen asleep a while ago. You were glad that you weren’t ruining her sleep as well, because you had an early wake up call for a match in the morning. Your mind kept running circles. Three years down the drain like it was nothing, how could she just break-up with you without ever voicing her troubles? 
At some point you must’ve fallen asleep though, because Leah gently shook you awake. “Hey, I’ve got breakfast ready.” You send her a questioning look, Leah didn’t cook. “Okay fine, you’ve got me. Lia picked up breakfast on the way over.” With a small smile you get up and follow her to the kitchen. By the way Lia held you just a little longer in the hug, you knew that Leah had told her. “Stop it Wally, you're going to make me cry.” You didn't mind Leah telling her, cause it meant that it would be one less person you would have to tell yourself. “Thank you for the food, but I'm not really hungry.” Lia nodded, “Okay, I'll just pack some of it up for you then, you're gonna have to eat something before the match.” You knew she was right, so you let her pack up some food, and add it to your backpack, while you slumped down on the couch.
Lia and Leah were talking in the kitchen, while you were staring at the living room ceiling. Your phone dings with a new message, and out of habit you check it right away. The name you so desperately wanted to see pop up all week, now made your stomach turn, and your heart clench.
Alexia: I'm really sorry, I never meant to hurt you. 
You threw your phone in frustration, the device landing on the floor with a loud tud, making Leah enter the room right away. “What's wrong?” Leah picks up the phone and checks if it's okay in the process. “Fucking Alexia clearly doesn't understand what needing space means.” Leah rolled her eyes, “She never learned to listen, did she?” In the short time that Leah had known you, she had heard you complain about the little communication things Alexia lacked to improve on many times. 
Lia entered the living room, “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to head out or we're going to miss the bus.” You grab your bag and head to the front door, without a care for your phone, so Leah pockets it in case you would want it later. Lia headed to the driver's seat, and you took the back, letting Leah sit in front with Lia. You were down, and did not want to pull either one of them down with you, especially not before a match.
You arrived at London Colney for a final pre-match meeting to go over the tactics. Usually, once you arrived you mingled with your teammates, but now you stuck to Leah's side like a lost puppy. Arsenal had taken you in as a part of their own right from the start, you loved the family vibe the team had, and often found yourself amongst the jokers in the group. Today however when a hyper looking Kyra and Beth made their way over, you didn't budge when they tried to pull you away. “What’s up with you, party pooper?” Beth asks with a furrowed brow. “Ale broke up with me, are you happy now?” You snapped at the striker, loud enough for the rest of the team to hear. With widened eyes you apologise to Beth, before you walk out of the room, not being able to handle all your teammates staring at you with pity. Beth wanted to follow you to apologise, but Leah stopped her. “It’s okay, just let her be for a moment.”
After a few minutes you entered the room again, so the meeting could start. “I’m sorry.” Beth whispers, as you sit down next to her. You lean your head on her shoulder, “No, I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arm around you for the duration of the meeting, hoping to offer some comfort.
On the bus towards the stadium you were playing at today you sat by yourself in the front row, while the rest of the team sat together in the back, still needing a bit of space. Once the bus started driving, Leah walked up to the front. “I’m fine, Lee.” You said before even letting her say anything. “I know you are, just thought you would like these for the drive.” She handed you her headphones and her phone. “Thank you.” You appreciated her and her thoughtfulness, having her phone to play music would mean no messages from Alexia popping up.
Your anger towards Alexia showed in your playing style that match, you were more aggressive, and sliding in any time you could. At one point Leah had to tell you to take it easy, but you managed to get away without any cards, and the team won the match.
The next few weeks you had to get over Alexia. You didn’t want to live in the bubble of sadness that the breakup had created around you. It helped not being in the same country as her, not being able to just walk into her, and also your surroundings not having her written all over them. You spend a lot of your time with your Arsenal teammates, weekly bonding nights with the whole team, and random outings with one group or another. 
When international break was around the corner, you felt confident in saying you were mostly over Alexia. Sure, some things still hurt you, but in your mind you could still be affected by something even though you were over your ex.
Laia was sitting next to you at the airport gate when the rooming schedule was shared in the group, you scanned for your name, and realised they had kept you with Alexia just like last camp. Laia must’ve seen it too, because without having to mention anything, she told you she would get it sorted. She got her roommate to switch with you, so you would room with Laia for this camp.
When you arrived at the Spanish training grounds, you were happy to see your teammates again, but seeing Alexia amongst them was definitely a mood crusher. You tried to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, and just ignore and avoid her, so you would be able to enjoy the time with your friends. You were mostly able to do that, for about an hour. That is when Alexia came knocking on your door. Laia is the one to open, “Hey, is y/n here?” You didn’t want to put Laia in the middle of your issues with Alexia, so you walked to the door. “What do you want?” Her eyes diverted to the ground, “Can we talk for a moment?” You didn’t want to talk, but knew that it was probably for the best, if you were going to be at the same location for the upcoming two weeks, as well as playing together. So, you close the door behind you and follow her to an empty room in the building. 
It stayed silent for a few minutes, long awkward minutes in your experience, but you weren’t going to start whatever conversation Alexia wanted to have. So, you waited for Alexia to speak up while inspecting every uninteresting thing in the room. “Y/n, I really messed up. I miss you, I should have never broken up with you. I should’ve fought for us, I wish I fought for us. Can I still fight for us?” You couldn’t believe what she was saying. “You really hurt me, Alexia. I don’t think you understand how much pain you’ve caused me.” Alexia steps towards you, “Trust me, I do understand. I’ve been miserable over this.” You take a step back right away, “If you understood, you wouldn’t be asking me for a second chance. I can never trust you the way I did before. You didn’t fight for us when you needed to. We are over Ale, there no longer is an us to fight for.” And with that you left the room. 
The week of training before the two friendlies you would play went by fast. You avoided Alexia as much as possible, but during training exercises you set aside your differences because football was a team effort, and you didn’t want your personal situation to affect the team’s results.
Your first friendly against Italy went down without a hitch, earning a final score of 4-1. You were however looking forward to your second friendly against England more. Not only playing against your Arsenal teammates Leah, Beth, Alessia, and Lotte, but also seeing them again. It hadn’t been that long ago of course, but since you were so close with the team, you were missing them dearly.
After a 2-2 draw you walked around the field shaking hands with the Lionesses, and found Leah on the field who you brought in for a hug. She kissed your cheek before Beth came flying in with a hug, but the moment wasn’t missed by Alexia who had been watching the interaction from the dugout. You had told her the two of you were over, but that interaction finalised it for her. You really weren’t hers anymore.
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horrorcrypt12 · 4 months ago
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OMFG!!!! With seconds left! Hell yeah!!!
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alexiasleftoversalmon · 4 months ago
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“These are our first games…. I understand that people ask us for gold because we are the current world champions but we must have maximum respect for our rivals.” - Alexia Putellas
Via: Relevo
I’m sorry but this is just pure class. I admire her so much ❤️
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undercoverr · 3 months ago
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La Reina in America 🤩👑
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summer-princess · 9 months ago
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Inappropriate Response: Leila Ouahabi x Reader
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Summary: Leila confronts you after a bad tackle. Things escalate. 🔞Smut. Mdni. 🔞 Pairing: Leila Ouahabi x Reader Warnings: Everything is consensual but not explicitly negotiated beforehand. Fingering, degradation, wall sex Disclaimer: Obviously fiction. Notes: I've had this partially written for so long! I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to leave requests! Words: 2674
You knew you had fucked up as soon as you collided with your opponent. 
Her pained shout as she fell to the ground under your mistimed challenge made your stomach roil as you hopped back up to your feet, barely noticing the referee as she pulled out the yellow card and held it up in your direction.
Even as your teammates surrounded her, beginning to argue on your behalf, you didn’t bother. Instead, you peered around the backs of City’s medical team, trying to catch a glimpse of the player you’d taken out. 
Through her grimace of pain as the medical staff helped her to her feet and off the pitch, Leila Ouahabi still managed to send an impressive glare your way.
She had to be substituted off, and the knot of guilt in your stomach only tied itself tighter.
You could see her glaring at you from the City bench, clearly still stewing over the bad tackle as she sat with her ankle covered in ice, but it faded from your mind as the match continued on. When it was over, you retreated back into the locker room with your teammates, not expecting the Spaniard to make anything more of it.
You couldn’t have been more wrong.
As you knew for a fact that you were the last one in the lockers, the sound of the door made you jump, water bottle clattering down to the floor as you whipped your head around, catching sight of black hair as the Spaniard fixed you with a steely glare.
You didn’t know Leila well, having only played against her a few times, but you could tell that she was still angry as she stalked toward you, ankle clearly still tender. You wanted to melt into the floor as she got closer, wishing that you could disappear before you had to hear exactly what the Spaniard thought of you.
There was no such luck for you as Leila stalked towards you, her approach pushing you further and further back.
“What the fuck was that tackle?”
You shrugged, back pressing against the white wall as she cornered you. You wanted to apologize, again, but your words were lodged in your throat as her glare froze you in place. The sensation of the back against the wall, the beautiful woman with ire in her eyes growing closer and closer, was going straight between your thighs.
You knew that your reaction was entirely inappropriate. 
Her response was entirely disproportionate, the rational side of your mind told you. It had been a mistake, and you had apologized for it. Repeatedly, in fact. You shouldn’t be standing here and listening to her shout at you, back against the wall. You should be yelling back, standing up for yourself.
But you weren’t.
Instead, your eyes were locked on the defender’s pretty face as she cornered you, and her fury had you shivering for a very different reason.
Your cheeks were red and heated with a scarlet blush, and your face wasn’t the only part of your body that felt hot. 
“Well?!”
You didn’t know what to say as she shouted at you once again, the fierce bite of her words sending a fresh shiver through you. Your silence was clearly beginning to grate on her nerves as she clenched her jaw, unwilling to leave you alone until you’d explained yourself to her satisfaction.
“I… Um…”
Unconsciously, you pressed your thighs together, your pussy beginning to tingle with arousal. You worried your tongue between your teeth, only getting wetter as the Spaniard glared at you, so close. But she couldn’t know, could she?  
There was no way that Leila could figure out why you were a stuttering mess, know way that she could know just how wet you were getting. 
How, if she did figure it out, you would do whatever she asked of you.
The defender was, however, remarkably observant when she wanted to be.
Still narrowed in a glare, Leila’s eyes drifted downwards from your nervous face to the spot where your thighs were pressed together. You were trying desperately not to clench down around nothing, praying that your entirely inappropriate reaction to being backed into a corner by a beautiful woman would go unnoticed by the woman herself, that you could get her to accept your apology and flee home with your tail tucked in to take care of your need on your own.
Leila’s gaze, however, should have warned you that things wouldn’t exactly work out that way.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, realization flooding her face as you flushed scarlet, unable to stop a little whimper from escaping, cursing every decision you had ever made that had led you to this situation.
“You… You’re… Fuck. This is making you wet, isn’t it?”
You shook your head frantically, trying to deny it. Even as you did, another wave of arousal flooded through you, her looming presence going straight between your legs. The air between the two of you felt charged with electricity as she invaded your space, able to sense the way your breath hitched at her proximity.
“F-Fuck you, that’s-”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Her growl drew another noise from you, much louder than the first. Your breath froze in your lungs as Leila slid one of her knees between your legs, her lower thigh making the barest contact with the place where her words had gone. 
Even through your kit, the touch of the defender’s skin against your pussy made you whine. You just managed to stop yourself from grinding down against the other woman’s muscular leg, but the sound did nothing to disprove Leila’s conclusion.
You couldn’t meet her eyes.
There was no way this could be happening. There was no way you were trapped in a corner by a beautiful woman who was very angry at you, and there was no way she had just slid her leg between yours to confirm that the situation was making you wet. 
“Look. At. Me.”
Even though it was torture, the blush on your cheeks setting your face ablaze to the point where you were fairly certain you were seconds away from spontaneous combustion, the bite behind her heavily accented English couldn’t be ignored.
Shaking, biting your lip to hold back the disappointed whimper when she removed her leg from between yours, you raised your chin and forced yourself to meet her eyes.
Her eyebrows were raised just slightly as her grip loosened, silently giving you the opportunity to say that you didn’t want this, to push her away and never speak of this moment again.
You would have been lying if you said you didn’t consider it for a moment, but the press of Leila’s body against your own was just too tempting for denial to be anything but an unthinkable possibility.
One look into your face made the decision for Leila- behind the humiliation, your eyes were clouded with an obvious lust, the same expression she knew was dancing behind her own heavy gaze. 
Slipping her hand beneath your shorts, Leila’s hand went straight to your wetness.
You were soaked, and it didn’t take the Spaniard long to more than confirm her original suspicion. The second her long fingers brushed against the crotch of your panties, they were met with damp fabric, plentiful evidence of her claim. You whimpered, rocking your hips forward into her touch, and the defender let out a harsh laugh.
“You fucking slut.” 
Her hands found the waistband of your shorts and unceremoniously yanked them down your thighs, pulling your panties along with them. 
“Wanna make it up to me, hm?”
You nodded desperately, not trusting your words to properly convey how much you needed to make it up to her in this way, hoping that the motion of your head would get the message across.
Leila swore in Spanish at the feeling as, unencumbered by your shorts and panties, her fingers once again met the bare flesh of your cunt. She wasted no time before beginning her ministrations, two fingers pressed together gathering the wetness from your entrance and dragging it back up to your clit. The defender began stroking your sensitive little nub, relishing the way you were unable to hold back a strangled moan. Your legs felt like jelly beneath you, the combination of the match and her fingers making you shudder and buckle a little, saved from collapsing to the floor only by her presence.
“How pathetic can you get?” 
She was supporting a good portion of your weight now, ankle making a miraculous recovery as two fingers rubbed against your cunt, mercilessly stroking your clit.
Pathetic was definitely one of the many words that could be used to describe you right now, pressed up against the wall by a woman who probably hated you, soaking her fingers with your arousal.
But the best part?
The best part, and the worst part at the same time, was that you didn’t care. All you cared about right now was how much you needed her, needed her to keep you pinned against the wall with her larger body, needed her to keep touching you like that, needed the filthy, degrading words being growled in your ear.
“I could tell you to get on your knees and eat me out right here and you’d do it, no?”
You nodded desperately, trying to rock against her fingers. She pulled them back, swallowing your whine with a fierce and bruising kiss. 
Leila’s kiss was like fire, her lips crashing against your own with a heat that could almost rival the one between her legs, where her fingers continued to work you. Her mouth dominated, your own offering little resistance as you moaned, again, into her tongue as it explored. She kissed you like she was dying, and your lips were the only cure, until she was suddenly pulling back, leaving you desperate for more.
Kiss broken, Leila’s other hand flashed out, wrapping around your neck as she held you against the wall. Your gasp of surprise was short and strangled, cut off in the face of the momentary restriction to your airflow. She didn’t keep her hand wrapped around your neck for longer than a second or two, just long enough to pin you in place as the fingers that had just been rubbing your sensitive clit and outer folds suddenly slipped inside your cunt. You were tight, but so wet that her two fingers slid easily inside, the Spaniard giving you only milliseconds to adjust before she was moving, fucking you in earnest, still keeping you pressed against the wall and at her mercy.
Even though her fingers were thin, the sudden intrusion still made you gasp aloud, instinctively trying to spread your legs further and give her better access. She swore again, a Spanish curse you couldn’t understand, welcoming the better angle as she buried herself in you up to the third knuckle, lithe digits swallowed by your desperate cunt.
She found her rhythm quickly, curling her fingers every few thrusts so she could massage the sensitive tissue inside of you. 
You were fairly certain you had forgotten how to breathe properly, strangled gasps all you could manage as the Spaniard fucked you with her fingers. The pleasure was constant, pounding, overwhelming as her thumb rubbed messy circles across your clit, acute and addicting. Your mouth fell open, eyes heavy-lidded as you let yourself be fucked, owned by the gorgeous defender.
“You little slut,” she hissed, yanking you back to reality with her words as her wrist continued to guide her thrusts, power coming from her forearm as she fucked your willing hole. “You little fucking slut.” 
“Your slut,” you moaned in agreement, throwing your head back as her fingers continued to plunder your pussy, making it clear who controlled the situation.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Wanna be my little slut?”
You nodded, leaning forward desperately and puckering your lips, needing to feel her mouth against your own.
She met you halfway, pressing another furious kiss to your parted lips. You gasped into the kiss, clasping onto it like a breath of oxygen, even as it stole the air from your lungs. Her lips against yours only made her fingers plundering your cunt more intense. 
You could feel the pressure beginning to build against your pelvis, the sensations becoming more and more intense as Leila slipped a third finger inside, the brief ache of the stretch quickly swallowed by the pleasure. Removing her lips from your mouth, the defender hissed into your ear, hot breath posing a question which made you shiver in anticipation and nerves.
“You deserve to come?”
You didn’t know which answer she wanted, but the idea of being denied, of her talented fingers leaving you a quivering mess and not seeing the act through to completion made you want to sob. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like Leila really expected an answer as she curled her fingers again, palm pressing firmly against your nub. Every movement of her fingers set your nerves on fire, sensitive little clit fully erect from her touch. You could feel your orgasm approaching much more rapidly now, barrelling towards you like a runaway freighter, and you had no idea how much longer you could hold back.
“Leila-”
The strangled moan of her name was enough to alert Leila to your predicament and, as much as the rapidly forming bruise on her ankle made her want to walk away and leave you panting, unsatisfied with your arousal coating your thighs, there was no real choice.
Not when you had taken her so well, not when you looked so pretty with her fingers buried inside your cunt, showing her just how sorry you were. 
She wanted to feel you come around her fingers, and she wanted it now.
“Come for me. Make it up to me, slut, and come for me like the needy thing that you are.”
Permission granted, you wasted no time before crashing over the edge with a sharp cry, a nonsensical noise barely recognizable as the other woman’s name.
Your legs gave out beneath you as you came but, before you could fall to the floor, her free arm was wrapping around your waist, holding you steady as your orgasm overwhelmed you, cunt clamping around her long fingers and holding them in place. Leila couldn’t help but release a little sound of her own at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around her fingers, imagination conjuring images of what it would be like to have you all to herself for much longer, spread out and helpless in her bed.
“R-Really am sorry,” you whispered, clinging to her shoulders as the aftershocks began to fade. 
“Shh, pretty girl,” she cooed, banishing her fantasies for a moment in order to see to you, tone markedly different from the one she had used when she first cornered you against the wall, what seemed like an eternity ago.
“It’s okay. Don’t you worry about it. It’s all fine, I promise. It barely even hurts anymore.”
You sighed in relief, embracing the feeling of her arms around you as she worked her fingers free, leaving you empty as she pulled your shorts and damp panties back into place. 
“Besides,” said Leila, grinning as she glanced at her glistening fingers. “I think you more than made up for it.”
Your post-orgasm haze wearing off, the furious blush returned to your cheeks. She chuckled, shaking her head. 
“And now that you have… I don’t suppose you’d let me buy you a drink?”
It was your turn to burst out laughing, first at the audacity of the question and then at the slightly wounded look that appeared on the defender’s face at your reaction.
Crouching down to pick up a stray hair elastic and sliding it around your wrist, you met her eyes and gave her a bright grin and a nod.
“You know,” you said. “This may be the strangest way anyone’s ever asked me out.”
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