#woso fc

[nelove22]

My friends, since ea sports probably will not put any new woso cards in the fc24 anymore, I guess my team is finally completed! was so funny to build the team during the season and the so many players I tested.

this is my (possible) completed team:

[copper-16]

Reminds Me That There's A Room To Grow

Alexia had lost her childhood love at the last moment. Or did she?

{a/n: Hello everyone! Fair warning: I make a lot of changes about the “world” in the fics I write. Alexia grew up in Madrid in this and started out at Atlético Madrid (don’t worry she’s still the world’s biggest culer, trust), and the timing, clubs, etc are often somewhat fudged because I am lazy. If you come on here and start correcting me I’m just going to block you because this is a STORY, it’s not supposed to be accurate to real life because it isn’t real life. This starts in March of 2021, but there are a series of flashbacks. Reader is a few months younger than Alexia in this.

This story can either be: just the 1 part with an ambiguous ending if everyone is satisfied with that, 3 parts with a more solid ending, or 10 parts with a longer story structure (and I like the ending better personally but to each their own). Curious as to everyone’s thoughts are, and it’ll probably dictate how much I end up writing! I hope y’all enjoy the read! Title is from Drops of Jupiter and Spotify link can be found here!}

Dahlias. 

Resilient. 

Warm-hearted. 

Protective. 

Optimistic. 

Mysterious. 

Grounded. 

Alexia thought of the intricate flowers often. She even went so far as to plant some in a garden box on the balcony of her apartment, just so that in the warmer months she could go out and trace the petals gently under her fingertips. A reminder of everything wonderful she had been fortunate enough to have in her life, held in her grasp for just a little bit longer out in the warm air. 

She admitted it was a long time ago, but even if she tried to move on she simply couldn’t. 

—

Alexia is grateful she opted to wear pants for the event, if for no other reason than the fact that she has somewhere to put her hands. The event was on the smaller side, not quite intimate but still not overwhelming either. It’s March now in Barcelona, with warmer weather and sunshine, even if the event for this evening is held indoors. 

It was for Spotify, bringing together ambassadors of the brand from around Spain to interact and connect with the team. Naturally, Barcelona has sent Alexia and Robert along with a few of the staff members to represent Barcelona. The midfielder has spent the better part of the event making small talk, trying to be polite and sociable. These events are inherently exhausting for her, but she still understands the importance of them, even if there isn’t quite enough football talk for her liking. 

As grateful as the blonde is for the visibility of the team and women’s football, there are still moments when she has to force herself to remain appreciative. She sometimes misses the days of kicking the football around in the dirt, where the heaviness of expectations never plagued her. She misses cozy nights on the couch laughing until her stomach hurts or having someone pull her from her work, insisting that she take a break. 

The footballer struggles to remember the last time she took a break. Her life is full steam ahead, all of the time. It was rewarding and exhausting all at the same time. Even when she has a day off or a moment of peace, it never quite felt like hers. 

Everyone expects something of her. 

Everyone wants a part of her. 

But nobody wants her in her entirety. Nobody has in a long time. 

When the midfielder finally breaks away from the delegate of Barcelona members under the guise of going to the bathroom, she takes the time to just explore. The event space is lovely and spacious, with high ceilings and a gorgeous conference room 

She is aiming to head toward the restroom, but she wanders aimlessly. The brunette ends up in a hallway with a gorgeous light fixture, and she finds herself looking up at it in vague awe. She catches movement in her peripheral vision, and when she glances down, her breath catches in her throat. 

It can’t be? 

Could it be? 

After all of this time? 

Your head is turned up toward the light fixture as well, your face partially obscured by the angle of your neck tilting upward to admire the beauty of it. The dress you’re wearing is a deep emerald green, a crushed velvet material with a high cut neckline. There are draped sleeves that barely hit your mid bicep, and the cut of the gown is long enough that it hides that you’re wearing loafers over more socially appropriate heels. 

You’ve always claimed that a woman who spent her life stuffing her feet into uncomfortable shoes simply wasn’t doing life right. 

The ceilings are tall, and the hallway is nearly empty, but Alexia is pretty sure that there is a lack of oxygen in the air. 

And then you turn your head down from the lights above you, making direct eye contact with you.

Her heart stops for just a moment, unable to comprehend the reality of the moment. 

But the footballer realizes at that exact moment that it’s really you. 

—

When Alexia is six, her immediate family moves from the Mollet del Valles to Salamanca for her father’s job. Besides her Mami, Papi, and Alba, the rest of her family stays behind in Barcelona, a fact that Alexia both hates and struggles to understand. 

Concepts of a job and moving are a little far out of her realm, but she tries her best to calm Alba when she cries quietly out of homesickness. Alexia is strong and refuses to cause trouble, so she takes the move with a silent despair as she is abruptly pulled from everything she has grown to know and placed in a new environment. 

Her Mami explains to the two girls that they will return to Barcelona in the summer for a few weeks to visit family, and that they can still go to Barcelona games here in Madrid. The little brunette girl struggles to contain the disgust her face twitches with at the thought of Real Madrid, and Eli forces herself to hold in a gentle laugh. 

In Alexia’s second week of living in Madrid, she meets you. 

Your family lives in an apartment down the street, with your Mama and Papi alongside your two younger brothers. There’s an area between your house and Alexia’s for children which could technically be classified as a park because of the pathetic patch of grass inside a ring of concrete. It doesn’t matter for Alexia, who brings a basketball outside to play in the space after growing bored one afternoon. 

You were already out there, sitting in the small grass patch and playing with the flowers, gentle in the way only a young child could be. That precarious edge where you could crush the petals at any moment, but for whatever reason don’t. 

The brunette perks up, her steps quickening at the sight of you. She has yet to make a single friend here considering that school has not yet started, and now would be the perfect time. 

“Hola,” she introduces herself apprehensively, soft spoken but not exactly shy. You look up at her, surprise melting into a small smile that seems to spread through the rest of your body. 

“Hola,” you repeat, and Alexia sets the basketball down before sitting beside you. 

“I’m Alexia, I live over there. I just moved here,” she explains as she points toward her own apartment complex. You nod in recognition, turning to the opposite side of the street to point out your own home. 

“Nice to meet you Alexia,” you state resolutely, but your focus is still on the flowers underneath your hands, the  caléndulas. 

“Are you a big fan of la flores?” She questions, and you nod, tucking some hair behind one ear as you look over at Alexia. 

“Flori loves la flores,” the brunette declares, giving you a nickname that will stay with you as she pulls you up to go play basketball with her. 

—

When Alexia is seven she joins the Atlético Madrid academy, playing alongside boys her age. She also learns that you hate football with a burning passion. 

After that day in the street, the two of you have become fast friends. One could not be found without the other, wandering around the streets playing imaginary games or dancing together. You could even be coaxed into a game of basketball or handball sometimes if you were in a good mood, but never football. 

It’s strange to Alexia, because football comes so naturally to her. It is a part of her family, but it is not a part of your family. While you are light on your feet, graceful in dancing, other sports are not your cup of tea. 

You’re smaller than Alexia is, smaller than the average girl your age, and it shows when you’re trying to play games with everyone. You never complain about it, weathering the storm of fouls and near fatal injuries from competitors twice your size without so much as a spot of negativity. 

But Alexia knows that it is not your favorite, and she only asks you to play sometime. 

“Come on Flori, please? I need to practice before tomorrow?” Alexia begs, and though you threw her some sass, you quickly agreed when you saw the look in her eye. 

The desperate look on her face was enough to convince you that she really did need help. 

While you weren’t terribly skilled at football, you weren’t horrible at it either. You agreed to help Alexia because she is your absolute best friend in the whole entire world, and when she looks at you with that face, you know she really means it. 

It is all worth it when she comes home the next day, dropping her bag at home and sprinting over to your apartment. She barges past your Mama at the door to run to your room, jumping on your bed and telling you every detail of the day with excruciating detail. 

You want to listen to every single minute, filled with warmth from the clear excitement on her face. You’re happy that she is happy, and you know that football brings her peace in the same way dancing does for you.  

Which is why when Eli asks Alexia to stop playing football at school as a result of her joining a team outside of school, you are the one who covers for her. You easily vouch that she was pushed on the playground rather than scraping her knees playing football. 

The look her Mami gives you lets you know she doesn’t believe you, but she lets it slide regardless, much to your relief. 

—

When Alexia is eight, she learns of how fiercely protective you are. 

It had only been a small thing, a disagreement on the football pitch behind the school you all attended. She was playing with some of the other girls, the few ones her age who still wanted to play football. The ones who didn’t mind getting their knees muddied and running until their lungs gave out. 

Not that it mattered how much they tried, because Alexia always beat them anyways. 

You had chosen not to participate, electing to teach Alba how to weave daisy chains and making sure that your little brothers weren’t getting into trouble while they played together. You had just moved Alba’s hand gently to show her how to twist the stem of the plant correctly when you heard the ruckus. 

You lift your head, taking in the scene in front of you with a renewed urgency when you notice that Alexia was on the ground. One of the other girls is practically standing on top of her, she was so close to the brunette. The girl, Isabella, is practically pink in the face with her anger, yelling about some foul or dirty move on Alexia’s part. 

You didn’t care though, standing up in a flash and stomping your way across the football pitch to the two girls. 

Alexia is by no means a shy person, but she usually leaned toward being more reserved. She has a deep sense of justice though, and has always pressed for everything to be fair, even when it was not to her advantage. 

When she played games with Alba, the brunette would hold her dominant hand behind her back or close her eyes to even the playing field. And while she never let Alba win without reason, she was never overly cruel in her celebrations either. Especially not as one would expect a bigger sister to be. 

She did not have a chance to get a word in edgewise today, not when you stuff your body between the two girls and press your finger into Isabella’s chest, all but shoving her back. 

You tilted your head up in defiance, a positively ferocious look on your face. 

“Hey! There is no need to yell,” you argue ardently, your face twisted in complete and utter vexation at Isabella’s tone toward your best friend. 

Isabella just stares down at you for a moment, probably more shocked to see you there than bothered by the words you just said to her. You were smaller than her and Alexia, and it is rare to see you get angry or irate like this. 

“Right…sorry Alexia,” Isabella says after a moment, offering a sheepish smile before she turns away, walking off of the field over to a few of her other friends. 

You let out a small sigh as your body language settles into something more relaxed and calm. When you look back at Alexia behind you, you find her looking up at you with a tilted head and a look of confusion on her face. 

“What?” You question carefully, back to the serene best friend that the Catalan had come to know over the last two years. There is concern pooling in your eyes as she stood, brushing the dirt off her knees. 

“Nothing I…” she pauses for a moment before she shakes her head, a tiny smile gracing her lips as she lets out a chuckle. “Thank you Flori.” 

You smile up at her broadly before you turn and make your way back to your younger siblings, sitting down and going right back to teaching Alba how to make a daisy chain as though nothing ever happened. 

—

When Alexia is nine, the two of you dance together. 

You are both signed up for folk dance classes by your respective mothers, who have become powerless in trying to keep the two of you apart. The pair of you might as well be attached to one another, as if you need the other in your orbit to continue on with life. 

It’s not that you both don’t have other friends, because you do. But the connection between the two of you is strong, not understood by anyone else. 

Dancing with Alexia is different. She makes you laugh in ways you cannot quite understand, and despite being only nine years old, there is a gracefulness to her movements that the other girls do not possess. There’s an ease to your steps when you are partnered with her, almost as though you two can anticipate the movements of the other without speaking about it. 

Perhaps football has helped her dance abilities, you wonder silently, but even that might be a stretch. 

You aren’t sure it matters though, not when she looks at you with that wide smile that she only ever seems to give you. 

—

When Alexia is ten, she finds you on her walk home from football practice. Her Mami had just started letting her walk home alone, alongside another boy from her team who lived in the area. It wasn’t a far walk by any means, but it gave the brunette a feeling of huge independence that only a ten year old could possess. 

She has just turned the corner to head down her street when she hears loud, loathsome voices. 

“Flori, really? That’s a stupid nickname, just like you are a stupid friend. She only hangs out with you because it is an easy option, not because she likes you.” 

Alexia doesn’t even have time to consciously think before she sees red and surges forward, finding you cowering just slightly under the intense gaze of two older boys. They are in the year above you and Alexia in school, but they always hated the brunette because she was better at football than they were. 

It seemed that their response to this embarrassment was to take out their anger on you. 

Alexia could tell you were trying to show minimal fear, but you were a good head smaller than the boys who towered over you. Luckily for you Alexia wasn’t about to let them get away with it, and she came around the corner yelling in anger. 

The boys weren’t expecting her, and they certainly weren’t expecting the vehemently angry words that flew out of her mouth. 

You watched the exchange with a strange sense of detachment. 

Were you a stupid friend for Alexia? She was getting better at football now, getting noticed by people and places much bigger than the little neighborhood you guys lived in. She could be popular, have any friend she wanted. No longer was she beholden to you in any way. 

When Alexia grabs your arm gently, you look up to find that the boys are nowhere to be found anymore. It is just your best friend with you, her eyes scanning over every feature on your face with a furrowed brow. 

You let out a tight breath as you realize that you two were alone, sinking down to sit on the curb. Alexia joins you, taking your hand and holding it tightly in her own. 

“Are you alright?” She asks softly, and you don’t answer her for a long moment. 

“Do you think that I am a stupid friend? Do you wish you had more popular friends?” You counter, not really answering her question. You don’t want to burden your friend with your own emotions, sticking to the facts of the case rather than the maelstrom of unease swirling in your stomach. The brunette all but flinches at the question, shaking her head fiercely. You turned to inspect her face gently, to see that there were no signs of lying in the set of her jaw or the twitch of her eyebrow. 

“Why would you think that?” She prods softly, her voice only loud enough for you to just hear it. Alexia can tell that this is about more than just what the boys said. The crinkle in your brow gave away the depth of your worries, especially to the footballer. 

“I am not like you Alexia. I don’t like sports, or getting dirty, or playing with the boys. I am not talented like you, I will never be the star people think you will be. I hear them whispering about you, certain that you will be great,” you insist, reticent to a fate that you have seemingly already aligned for yourself. 

But then Alexia moves, crouching down in front of you instead of remaining beside you. 

“I don’t care about any of that if you aren’t my best friend,” she confesses with a sharp intonation, and she means every word of it wholeheartedly. 

She never thinks of herself as doing anything with football, because there is no path for a woman like her to play professionally like the men do. Even if there was, she has no clue if it is something she would want for her future. 

She loves football dearly. 

But she also loves you, and she tells you as much. 

“I will always need you in my life, no matter what. Now that you are here, you are stuck with me and I refuse to give that up. You are my best friend, and I don’t care what I do in life or who I become, you will always be my best friend Flori.” 

And despite everything that told you that you probably shouldn’t, you believe her with everything in you. 

—

When Alexia is eleven, she moves in with her aunt and uncle in Barcelona for the year to train at La Masia. 

You miss her terribly, even though life moves on. Your schedule every week is filled with friends and dance and time spent outside, but it’s never quite the same with Alexia. When you receive a little flip phone, your heart leaps at the thought of being able to talk to her even when she is far away. 

The two of you call every day, and patiently you listen to her describe every bit of frustration and excitement about football. It’s a huge opportunity to play in La Masia but there remain huge obstacles, and the program for the girls is unorganized and frustrating at best. 

You listen patiently, and Alexia is reminded all over again of how her life wouldn’t be the same without you. 

Gratitude and a strange swirling feeling twist in her belly, but it fills her with a warmth all over regardless. 

—

When Alexia is twelve, she returns to Madrid. The La Masia program for the girls has fallen apart, and she comes back to Atlético Madrid. 

She comes back home to you. 

You are unsure of when her smile started to make your stomach flutter, or when the brush of her hand against yours made your heart jump. And honestly, you don’t care. It is the most natural thing in the world to you. 

When she holds your hand for the first time and glances over at you shyly, you simply knew that your heart belonged to her, and somehow hers belonged to you too. 

—

When Alexia is thirteen, you ask her to be your girlfriend. 

Perhaps it's silly and juvenile and you two are the only ones who believe in the seriousness of it. 

She is caught by surprise at you asking, and suddenly the footballer finds herself throwing out her elaborate plan she had come up with to ask you in the following weeks. 

Alexia says yes to you, unequivocally and with a soundness she has never felt before. 

The first brush of your lips against hers lasts for a few seconds, but it’s exhilarating in an entirely new way.  

It’s perfect, as is the way her arms wrap securely around you.

—

When Alexia is fourteen, the two of you begin to experiment a little more for the first time. 

It’s awkward and bumbling sometimes, but there's a layer of comfort and ease above it all. Her lips on yours and the feel of her body next to you keeping you grounded and comfortable, ready to stop at any moment. 

When she pulls away, you find yourself giggling at the tickling sensation of her eyelashes against your skin. You bury your head into her chest, holding tightly to her as you feel a laugh rumble in her chest. . 

Even as she gets better at football and you grow into your own intelligence, it’s still the two of you together, taking life at your own pace. 

—

When Alexia is fifteen, she begins to struggle in school. 

You are the first person she talks to because she knows that you will meet her without judgement. You have always been a good student, and don’t mind spending the time patiently tutoring her. Topics that she should probably understand but do not are broken down into easily digestible ways, and for the first time in weeks her arithmetic work begins to make sense. 

She is able to continue playing without any problems, and her marks improve rapidly with her focus and your dedication. 

“Thank you Flori,” she sings as she walks out of the first session, and you can’t help but laugh at the tone of her voice. 

The footballer beams at you when you declare that your payment is a kiss for every correct answer. 

She pays her pension and then some without an ounce of complaint. 

—

When Alexia is sixteen, she makes her first team debut for Atlético Madrid. It’s a proud day for the whole family, and you sit squished between her father and Alba as you watch her race onto the pitch. 

There’s a sharp determination on her face, and though she only plays ten minutes you can tell she is going to be good. You can’t say you’re surprised, and when she turns toward her family and you and beams as the game ends, you know that you wouldn’t be anywhere else other than here. 

—

When Alexia is seventeen, she reminds you of what you mean to her. 

Atlético games are never terribly well attended with how little importance is placed on women’s football. But there is still a steady crowd, and it is beginning to grow more and more. 

Alongside that growth come some…interesting characters. 

You’re a regular in the stands, alternating between reading your book, watching the game, and doing homework. It’s rare for you to miss a match, though you have missed a goal or two when your nose is shoved in a book. Luckily, Eli, Jaume, or Alba will nudge you if Alexia is doing something important. If they aren’t there, then one of the other players' family members will, a fact that you’re extremely grateful for. 

Your commitment is unwavering, but your interest in any sort of PDA or anything is limited. Alexia is much the same, a characteristic you’ve always been grateful for. 

But then a group of girls from your school start to show up at games. There’s four of them, always sitting in the front row of the stands, no matter what. They cheer Alexia on as though she is their best friend, despite the fact that she told you herself she doesn’t really know them. When the footballer comes toward the stands after games, they rush to greet her. They fawn over her easily, throwing their arms around her for hugs and pressing chaste kisses to her cheek. 

You always find yourself standing awkwardly in the background, wishing to talk to your girlfriend but unable to stop staring at the scene in front of you. 

At first, it’s more funny than anything. You and Alexia’s family joke about her fan club and delight in the way her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. 

But they never stopped coming to games. And by the time you figure out that they aren’t going to stop, you realize that perhaps you need to take a step back. Those girls are popular, sweet, they love football and seem to understand everything. You are intelligent and well liked, but nowhere near as popular or well versed in the game Alexia lives and breathes by. Trying to follow along to each whistle or hand signal is impossible for you, and your interest in learning comes and goes like an ocean tide. 

“I don’t think I can come on Saturday, I have a calculus project I need to work on,” is what you tell Alexia one weekend. But the brunette didn’t buy it for a single second, raising her eyebrows suspiciously. 

“You always just do it at the games – I’ve seen you in the stands with a glue stick before you were so determined to be there,” she points out, calling your bluff easily.

“Well…this is important Ale. It’s our final year of school, I need the marks to get into university,” you defend weakly, but it’s a lost cause. Your grades are extremely good, and you’ll have your pick of schools. One calculus project will not make or break that opportunity by a long shot. 

“Is this about those girls from school?” Alexia questions softly, her voice careful. You glance over at her and sigh after a moment, knowing that there's really no use in lying. The brunette could read you like the back of her hand. 

You don’t even need to voice your concern for Alexia to know exactly what you’re thinking, and she moves to sit down next to you on the edge of her bed. 

“I promise you with everything in me that I do not care about those girls. I don’t care if you are certain that they are nicer or popular or more pretty than you are. You are perfect to me, and I don’t care about them at all. I only care about you, and I only want you. You are my peace and my life, not them,” the footballer insists, and you look over at her with a quiet resignation. 

“Even if they understand football better than me?” You ask, your voice impossibly small. Alexia smiles sadly, reaching out to gently cradle your face in her hands. 

“When I look at the stands, it’s you I search for. It’s you who makes my heart skip a beat when I realize that you’re there. It’s you who fills my stomach with butterflies and sets the wind into my sail. How could I even notice them when I have you, Flori?” 

At the next game, Alexia politely smiles at the girls but moves straight past them to charge up the stands, still in her kit and boots. She gently lifts your calculus project off your lap so that she can press a resounding kiss to your lips, smiling into it when you gasp into her mouth with surprise. 

—

When Alexia is eighteen, two things happen. 

Everything somehow falls together, and falls apart all at the same time. 

The first is that her father dies. 

It's not unexpected, though the reality is still jarring. It feels like she is free falling, unable to find a moment of stability or rest. 

She finds herself in her old bedroom in her Uncle’s house in Barcelona, avoiding the mass of people downstairs paying their respects. While the sympathy of others is heartfelt and sincere, it’s heavy. 

She already feels heavy. Any more of it and she might break into a million pieces, that she is sure of. So she escapes up stairs for a moment, leaving Alba with a cousin and her Mami with an old friend. 

A knock at the door pulls her from her thoughts, and she looks over to see that you have poked your head into the room. 

“Ale?” You inquire gently, the question unspoken between the two of you. Four years of dating and endless years of friendship have left you with an innate ability to know when the brunette needs space, and that doesn’t feel like where she is right now. 

You’re nothing if not respectful though, aware that as much as you sympathize, you really might not have the answer here. Nothing this big had ever happened in your relationship before, or in either of your lives before. There was no book or manual to prepare on how to deal with a grief so complete and overwhelming as this.  

Alexia loved her father deeply, and no amount of time to anticipate or process her thoughts of his illness actually prepared her from the shock of him being gone. 

You had loved Jaume too, how he passed out love like it was free to give, how he laughed without inhibition, how he welcomed you into the Putellas family with ease. But it wasn’t the same, and you were aware. You knew that you felt only a slice of what your girlfriend did, and even just this amount of grief was unbearable. 

You didn’t know how the footballer was even standing. 

Alexia’s eye’s silently pleaded with you to come in, so you did. You moved across the room before laying down on the bed next to her until the two of you were laying parallel, staring up at the ceiling together. You’re exhausted as well with all the stress and worry, but your first thought is always her. 

It always has been. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you for a long stretch of time. 

What is there to say? 

Your heart aches for her, and for her loss, for her family. Alexia screws her eyes shut, trying to regulate her own breathing. Everything about her feels erratic and out of control.

The footballer turns to her side, tucking herself into your body. She clutches to your arm tightly, forcing herself to copy your steady, dependable breathing. 

As much as she needs her Mami and Alba in this time, she has to work to be strong for them. She was the person they looked to, the decision maker, the leader. They need her, and she would kill herself before she neglected that need. 

But you are her strength, you always have been. You are the one who protects her, whose only thought is her. You have always been constant and steadfast for her through anything, a pillar of strength. She relies on you, and it scares the hell out of her. 

And yet you’re right there, and you seem to take it with a practiced ease that makes Alexia want to sob with gratitude. 

Loss engulfs her and brings her back, your steady hand in hers the entire time. There is rarely a moment when she needs you and you are not there for her, always attuned to her moods and thoughts. 

But then a huge curveball is thrown in Alexia’s way. 

Two weeks after her father passes away, Barcelona calls her. They are creating a women’s team, and though it is not professionalized, it is a team. 

Alexia accepts the request on the spot, not even stopping to consider the consequences. 

It doesn’t matter, the answer would still be yes. Her Mami and Alba are thrilled, quickly deciding that they all should move back to Barcelona together. It was time, and as much as they had built a community here in Madrid, Barcelona would always be home for them. 

Alexia goes to you that night and asks you to move with her. She explains her plan vividly, how you can go to school, she will play football, and you both can get part time jobs. You’ll get a little apartment together, actually start the beginning of your lives together. 

There was never a world in which you were not together, not with how happy you both were together. It was a no-brainer, an easy solution to a problem that had never existed. Life for her didn’t exist without you in it. 

Alexia would move first, and you would follow her in two months once you had received your university acceptance letter. It was a fool proof plan in the Catalans mind. 

At least, it had been a fool proof plan. 

The night before Alexia was scheduled to leave, you arrived at her door. The surprise and excitement on her face quickly gave way to intense concern when she saw the trepidation on your face. 

“Can I come in?” You asked gingerly, stepping inside as the Catalan made way for you to come into her house. 

“Yes, of course you can,” she replied, following you into her kitchen and taking a seat across from you at the table. For several moments there is silence as you seem to work up the courage to finally choke out the words you need to say. 

“I…I can’t come to Barcelona with you Alexia,” you finally stated, your hands folded neatly in your lap

“What?” Alexia isn’t sure she heard you correctly, because certainly you couldn’t be saying what she thought you had said. 

“I have to stay here with my Mama, to help her with the boys and the house and everything. I’ll get a job for a year before going to school, I think,” you explained slowly. 

“I…okay. Are you sure Flori?” You nodded with clear reservation, but the brunette continued forward regardless. 

“Well then…we can call. And take the train to one another when possible, and then maybe when the boys are older you can come to – what is it?” Alexia’s voice grinded to a halt when she finally seemed to notice your despondent expression

“I cannot come Alexia, and I don’t know when I will be able to. I will be very busy, and I am sure you will be as well, so perhaps it’s for the best if–” You were cut off, unsurprisingly. 

“If what?” Alexia challenged, her anger flaring. It’s not really anger, it’s fear, and you see right through her. But still you do not yield, your expression entirely unreadable to the midfielder. 

It only makes her more and more mad that she cannot tell what is going on. 

“Are you just going to give all of this up? I don’t even know what life is like without you, and what – now it gets a little hard and you call it quits? Did you ever even care about me? Did you ever even love me, or has this whole time just been a huge li–”  Alexia yelled from across the table, her hands slamming down to splay on the wood in front of her. 

“Enough!” You yelled, standing suddenly. Alexia seemed surprised at your outburst, but there was nothing other than a quiet resignation across your expression. There was no anger or outrage or fury on your face, but rather a strange form of acceptance mixed with defeat. 

When you spoke again, it was with softness and finality as the footballer looked up at you. 

“I love you Alexia. And I am very excited about this new journey you are going on, even if it is not with me.” 

You walked over to her side of the table before bending down to press a kiss to her temple.  You slipped out the door in a flash. Alexia was so completely thrown off that she didn’t have an answer or a response, she didn’t even have time to stop you. 

She had never sobbed so hard in her entire life than she did at the dining room table that night. Grief had become her shadow, but this was an entirely new kind of grief. It poured over her, consuming her, and she for once found herself completely lost in it. 

When she arrives in Barcelona, it is with red rimmed eyes and a renewed resolve to make something of herself. 

If it meant losing you, it had to be important. 

—

Alexia left Madrid when she was eighteen. 

Barcelona Femeni wasn’t even a professional team, and she was a nobody who had come into the system with promise and drive but nothing to her name. 

Throughout the past nine years, so much had happened to her both personally and professionally. Barcelona was not the same team at all, having been professionalized a few years after she arrived. They were taken somewhat seriously now, with titles and dominance in the domestic league. Though the Champions League eluded them, Alexia knew it was coming. 

She was in the prime of her career, playing better football than she had ever expected herself. The brunette was achieving everything that she had wanted, and she remained hungry and focused toward the future. It was never enough for her, and she always thought she could be doing better. 

There were times though…when she stopped and wondered. 

Was it worth it? 

She wanted so badly to say yes instantly. Football was her passion, her purpose, it had always been her goal to be the best she could be. It had driven every decision she had made in her entire life, and she wanted so desperately to believe in it wholeheartedly. 

But there had always been a flicker of doubt. She held it closely to her heart, never sharing it with anyone, not even Alba or Eli. She did not want to seem weak or doubtful of her decision.

Her apartment was empty, devoid of practically any women, and that had been her choice. Even after all of these years, she couldn’t bring herself to commit to anyone long term. 

The brunette wanted to be angry at you for staying behind, but she couldn’t bring herself to really mean it. She loved you far too much, and the ache of missing you only seemed to strengthen as the years bled on. She had other women, she really tried, but never did she feel the same connection that she had with you. 

Alexia had admittedly tried to look for you, when her initial hurt had bled away in an embarrassingly short amount of time. But you were a ghost. 

The footballer wasn’t surprised, considering that you had never been a big social media person. She found some of your relatives online but their accounts were mostly private and rarely were you photographed. When she returned to Madrid for games, your family was gone from the home you had been raised in, and she wasn’t shameless enough to start banging on neighbors doors to find out more. 

Your phone number had seemingly changed by the time she worked up the nerve to call you, and eventually it just seemed wrong. You never reached out to her, at least not that Alexia was aware of. 

She had simply been forced to accept the fact that she had lost you, for reasons she still did not comprehend or understand. All it took was one singular month to lose both her father and her…to lose you, and that thought gnawed away at a piece of her soul relentlessly. 

But suddenly here you were. 

Nine years later, and here you stood right in front of her. 

“Hello Alexia,” you stated, your face a veil of carefully constructed neutrality, even if your heart beat was erratic beneath your dress. The sound of your voice seemed to bring Alexia back from wherever in her mind she had been. 

“Hi…hi there,” the brunette stuttered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. She couldn’t quite get herself to believe that you were standing in front of her. . 

“I know it’s been awhile but it’s…it's good to see you. Congratulations on your team's success these last few years,” you commented gently, a true smile on your lips. 

“Oh, yes, thank you very much. You…you follow the team?” Alexia inquired, her eyebrow furrowing in confusion. You had always been so apathetic to football, she never could have imagined you sitting in front of the television watching games. 

“Ever since you moved to Barcelona,” you confirmed with a nod of the head. Alexia felt her perplexity only ballon in size. 

If you still cared, why did you let her leave in the first place? Why did you give up so easily? 

A silence lapped over the two of you, but it was filled with so many unsaid words, so much tension that had never existed before. 

Alexia and you both looked the same, and yet somehow completely different. You could tell how much the footballer had grown into herself given the ease at which she stood, her hands tucked in her pants pockets loosely. There was an air of elegance and power to her, hazel eyes piercing into you with purpose. 

She looked at you as though she never wanted to look away again, and selfishly, you felt hope in your heart that perhaps…

“Are you with anyone?” You asked suddenly, surprising yourself with the forwardness. It could be interpreted as for the event specifically, but the potential broader implication suffocated you despite the fact that you were the one to ask the question. 

“No, I am not with anyone Flor–” Alexia cut herself off, seemingly realizing her mistake. 

It didn’t feel like much of a mistake to you, and you longed to hear the word come out of her mouth, just once more. If this was the end for the two of you, you would have sold anything you owned to hear her say it just once more. 

You nodded slowly, before replying that you were here alone as well. 

“Perhaps…perhaps we could go on a walk?” Alexia suggested, and you allowed her to set the pace of whatever you guys did together. After all, it had been you that had left in the first place, a fact that you would never forget. 

You nodded in affirmation, explaining that you needed to grab your clutch before you could meet her at the door. 

It was divine timing as well, considering that your boss had just let you off for the evening and you were planning to go home soon anyways. This was a more welcome surprise than whatever you had been planning in your mind. 

—

There was a wave of relief that rushed through Alexia when you appeared in the door frame a few minutes later, almost as though she was positive you were not going to arrive. But there you were, a light jacket thrown over your dress and a small purse in your hand. 

You both walked out of the event space together, silence lapping between the two of you as you continued forward. Alexia was struggling to organize her thoughts in any sort of productive way. She was so caught off guard by everything. 

She thought she would never see you again. 

“How long are you in Barcelona? Just for the weekend?” She questioned, her voice soft. You shook your head, your posture straight and somewhat tense. 

“No actually, I live here now. I moved a few years back,” you replied, voice unwavering. 

Alexia couldn’t help the stab of hurt that ran through her heart at that piece of information. She had always wondered deep down what she had done to cause all of this, why you had let her go. At first the distance was the only thing in Alexia’s mind to explain the break up, but now she knew you had been here for years. She didn’t understand it, even after nine years. Every piece of logical information told her that you had loved her, and yet here you were. 

Was any of this even salvageable? 

Did she want it to be? 

“Oh…I see,” her voice was flat, but in a way that oozed grief rather than true apathy. 

“I come to your games sometimes, once I moved out here,” you admitted, thinking of all the times you had sat up in the stands watching her play. The brunette glanced at you in clear shock, and you shrugged, unable to conjure an appropriate answer to explain yourself further. 

Things were…things had been so complicated. By the time all of it had cleared and the world made sense to you again, she was gone. You knew you had lost your opportunity to be with her, to be a part of her life. 

As much as it haunted you, it was the reality of your life. You never could have changed what happened, but that didn’t mean it cut you just as deep as it did Alexia. 

But perhaps there was hope for the two of you, here and now. Maybe it would be messy and complicated and painful, but it would be real. There was so much left unsaid between the two of you, and whether the two of you could face it headfirst or not would make or break the whole situation. 

“Where did we go wrong? How did all of this fall apart?” 

The question was sudden, a shock but not a surprise. 

You took a deep breath, stopping and looking back at Alexia. The Catalan had stopped walking when she had spoken, as though she was unable to move forward even an inch. Her hands were balled into fists, and everything about her body language communicated her discomfort. 

“Did I do something to make you stop loving me? Where did I mess up?” She questioned, nearly begged. 

Was her career worth losing this, losing you? 

Had she lost you? 

“Alexia, you did nothing wrong. You were perfect, you are perfect,” you promised, summoning every last bit of strength to imbue into your words. You walked back to her, reaching out carefully to place the backs of your fingers to her cheek, just barely touching the warm skin there. She closed her eyes at the feeling as tears burned in your eyes. 

“I lost you,” she whispered, both startled and settled that you still smelled the same, your perfume unchanged after all these years.

“I know, I know. But I’m right here now, I’m right here,” you vowed, still unsure and desperate of what to say. 

“I know that this is fucked up, and complicated, and it’s been years. I might as well be a stranger to you, but I need you to trust me when I say that nothing that happened was your fault. I made the decisions I did because it was what I had to do, but don’t for a minute think it didn’t kill me inside. Don’t you dare think I didn’t spend the last decade of my life missing you,” implored, almost as if trying to force her to understand the depth of your love, even after all this time. You turned your hand to cradle her cheek gently, your thumb stroking across the skin there as you spoke again. Your voice was barely audible, crackling with emotion. 

“Maybe this is crazy for me to say, but I don’t think I ever stopped loving you. And if I never see you after this, I want you to know how much I loved you. How much I still love you. ”

She reached her hand up to grasp at your wrist, holding your hand in place against her cheek. 

“Please don’t leave,” she murmured, and you nodded insistently. 

“I’m right here. I’m right here Ale.” 

The look of relief on her face at hearing you call her that was palpable. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there, lost in one another. It could have been a minute or a year, and you didn’t care. You would have stood there forever, content to ignore the rest of the world if Alexia remained this close to you. 

But eventually the telltale signs of rain began to stir, drops of water falling onto your jacket and in your hair. You pulled back, taking Alexia’s hand and squeezing it before you reached for your clutch. Opening the bag, you pulled out a business card and a pen, writing your personal number on the back of the card. 

“The number on this is my office, but the back is my cell. If you still want to…if you decide you want to talk more, call me,” you insisted lightly, placing the card in her hand. 

“I promise I’ll pick up,” you soothed after a moment, your words gentle. 

Alexia stared down at the card, at your loopy handwriting, for far too long. It reminded her of being fifteen, watching you write equations on the wall for tutoring. It was jarring, and it stirred up emotions she didn’t realize she had buried. 

When she looked up again you were gone, and yet not a single ounce of her felt alone as she stood on the sidewalk. 

She had a new possibility. The chance to return to who she was in her youth and understand the past. Or the option to continue forward in her career, focusing solely on football and her dedication to the sport while leaving the past behind. 

She had no idea what she would do, but at least for once she had the choice to decide.

[skipper1331]

I love you (?) // Alexia Putellas

Love

L-O-V-E

A word with a lot and heavy meaning. It wasn't something you just said randomly every day - maybe some people did, but not Alexia. Love meant a lot to her. She came from a well-educated household where love and solidarity were a priority. Her family meant the world to her, she loved her family.

Football meant a lot to her too, she loved football and the friends she had made through it.

Alexia was known to be stern, someone of few words and someone who chose her words carefully. She’s a known person - it came with the business. So she certainly didn't say the words "I love you" carelessly or to everyone.

The only two people who heard it regularly were her mother and sister. All the other people just knew by her actions and caring nature.

And then there was you.

You had crept into her heart with your shy smiles, big grin and addicting laugh.

She wasn’t sure at first if she should ask you out - it took a lot of convincing (thanks to Mapi) to do so.

It surprised her when you agreed but it was obvious to anyone in the Barcelona squad - she was head over heels for you while you also were totally smitten for the captain.

Fast forward, 6 months into your relationship the words "I love you" lingered in the back of Alexia‘s mind. She hadn‘t said those words yet, neither had you.

You knew Alexia was careful and shy, sometimes even scared - it took awhile to break her walls down, so you respected her pace. The feelings also new for you.

The pace was perfect for both of you, nothing rushed or hasty.

But as the days went by, Alexia‘s feelings grew stronger and stronger. At night she thought she‘d explode at some point because she didn’t express herself to anyone.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, all day, everyday.

She wanted to say them.

She really did.

But it was a big step in your relationship. Would you say it back? Did you even feel the same way? What if not?

You meant a lot to her, she didn’t want to ruin anything - everything she had with you was so so special and precious, innocent even.

At the perfect moments, she remained silent, as she had so many times before. It wasn't just an "I love you" it was so much more. Love didn't even come close to what she felt yet it was the closest thing to describe what she felt when she was with you. It was weird.

It was chaotic in her head, her thoughts not organized or structured. It annoyed her. Order was very important to her, especially in her head - after all, that and her talent had made her the best football player in the world. So she didn't like the fact that there was now a lot of chaos.

Normally, she would have talked to you about it, but since it involved you, she couldn't do that.

A different solution had to be found as quickly as possible.

In the next few days, she asked herself what to do. Who could she confide in?

1. you

2. Mami (+ Alba)

3. Alba (+Mami)

4. Mapi

That was the list of people she could always talk to, even if it was often difficult for her - like now.

And that‘s when it hit her.

If she could tell her mother, sister and best friend that she loved you, she could tell you too.

Step by step.

telling her mother

Alexia stood in the kitchen with her mother, preparing dinner while Alba and you set the table. Ale‘s eyes lingered on you, a love sick smile plastered on her face, eyes screaming hearts. She loved the bond you had with her sister. Alba often joked that you were also her sister, which in the future you definitely would be as her sister in law.

The older Putellas watched the scene in front of her, her heart bursting at every laugh she heard. You fit in perfectly with her family - everything was so harmonious, loving and caring, almost too perfect to be true - the most important people united.

Deep breaths, "I love her" she admitted to her mother. It was the first time ever she said that out loud. Her cheeks were bright red.

She didn’t look at her mother, neither at you because suddenly the vegetables in her hands were very interesting.

"Oh, I know" Eli chuckled, the footballer dropping the knife and turning towards her mother.

"You know?"

"I can see it in your eyes"

her sister

The Putellas sisters sat in their local coffee shop for their weekly catch up. Since their teenage years they had the tradition to at least sit together for a coffee once a week. Sometimes it was just for 5 minutes, sometimes for hours, sometimes early in the morning, sometimes in the evening, depending on the schedule.

"Ale, are you listening?" Alba waved her hand in front of her sisters face.

"Que? Lo siento, what did you say?" she stated, her mind had drifted back to you.

Alexia knew you were waiting in her apartment, probably still on the couch where she had left you with a kiss. Or maybe you were in the kitchen? Getting a snack? Or in bedroom reading a book?

I love you

"Thinking about your girlfriend, hm?" the younger Putellas raised a brow while taking a sip of her coffee.

"Sí, lo siento. Please tell me again what you were saying?"

Alba started once again but quickly realized that her sisters mind was somewhere else.

"Come on, Alexia. What‘s going on?" this time Alba flicked the footballers nose to get her attention, "absent again" she explained when the midfielder grumbled confused at her little sister.

"What‘s on your mind?"

"I love her"

"okay…?"

Alexia furrowed her brows, "I love her" repeating her words.

"okay…? I know" Alba repeated her words as well, questioning what the problem was.

"You know too?"

"hermana, you talk about her all the time, like non-stop" she laughed, "it‘s quite obvious that you love her"

telling Mapi

Just a few hours ago, the team had won the champions league trophy - it felt euphoric, everybody high on the adrenaline and joy.

Mapi and Ale watched Ingrid and you dancing on the dance floor, medals around your necks, singing to the song that‘s blasting through the club.

"I‘ve never seen you so happy" Mapi stated as Alexia took a sip of her drink, her own medal still around her neck.

"I love her"

"Oh, I know"

"why does everyone know this?" Alexia furrowed her brows, a frown displayed on her features.

Mapi laughed at her friend, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

"Ale, seriously? You look at her like she hung the moon. You talk about her all the time. You follow her around like a lost puppy. You sulk the whole day when she‘s not there. You beam from ear to ear when she‘s holding your hand. You-"

Alexia cut her off with a hand covering her mouth, "I get it!" her cheeks crimson red as she shied away from the defender as soon as she had stopped talking.

"You‘re the same way with her, like I’m with Ingrid. We‘re both lucky to have such sweethearts in our life. So, don‘t fuck it up"

"Don’t mess up either" Alexia laughed. Mapi was absolutely right: The captain was head over heels for you, totally smitten and unconditionally in love with you. She had never been so happy before - with you, she felt lightheaded and free, something that was rare in the life of a professional athlete.

She loved you.

And was so thankful to have you in her life - being able to call you hers, hers only.

"I wouldn’t dream of it" Mapi agreed, feeling the exact same about Ingrid, raising her drink.

"Salud"

telling you

"Amor!" Alexia belly laughed, running after you as had thrown multiple paper balls at her to get her attention, her attention too focused on the tv. You ran around her apartment, the girl close behind, almost catching you in the kitchen.

Though, she did caught you in the bedroom, where she quickly wrapped her arms around your middle and tackled you onto the bed.

"Amor, that wasn‘t very nice of you" she stated firmly yet you could see the smile she was trying to hide.

"I was only concerned about your well-being!" you defended yourself, trying to wiggle out out of Alexia’s grasp which Alexia denied as she straddled your waist, pinning your arms down. "I was afraid that the wrinkle on between your brows would stay permanent if you had kept that look on your face any longer" you stated innocently - the same expression plastering her face once again, causing you to laugh.

"Laughing at me, hm, amor" her fingers slid along your arms before they suddenly started to tickle you.

The room was filled with laughter, yours (which was music for Alexia‘s ears) and her own.

"I give up! I give up!"

"You shouldn’t mess with me" the midfielder giggled.

Silence followed, both of you staring in each others eyes with so much love and adoration.

Slowly, Alexia leaned forward, her hands cupping your cheeks while your hands rested on Alexia’s thighs as you met in the middle.

Both of your minds went blank as you kissed one another, hearts racing, skin tingling, cheeks burning.

Pulling back, Ale still had her eyes closed, taking in and appreciating the moment.

"I love you"

it was whispered yet loud and clear.

The midfielder looked at you - the way your face lit up, smile wider than she‘d ever seen before, eyes full of happiness looking at her.

"I love you too"

The older girl matched your expression, hardly hiding her emotions.

"Say it again, por favor"

You happily did, "I love you, Alexia."

Sighing contently, she leaned her forehead against yours, "again, por favor" and that‘s what you did, your girlfriend repeating your words each time.

Because she really did love you.

Ps. She had practiced it more often than she liked to admit in front of the mirror.

"I love you"

"I love you"

"I love you"

"I love you"

"I love you“

Because practice makes the best, right?

[meazalykov]

everything is lost

aitana bonmati x f!chelsea!spanish!reader

after leaving barcelona, aitana wondered if you were leaving her

warnings: angst, google translated spanish, 4.2k word count

requested? yes

the first leg in barcelona was a war that felt as if you were encircled on all sides.  

you had walked into the tunnel with your head high, ignoring the way your stomach twisted at the thought of playing against aitana, your aitana, the aitana you’ve been dating for three years.

you knew this was coming, but still, it felt foreign, unnatural. 

you had been teammates before, had worn the same red for spain, had shared hotel rooms during international duty.

however, you felt different now. 

aitana was on the other side.

you transferred from barcelona to chelsea last season, something that caused tension between aitana and you. 

the arguments from that eventually subsided, but this match might unscrew that lid again.   

she did not look at you during warmups. did not acknowledge you when you passed her in the tunnel. she spoke to lucy, to keira, to patri, but not to you.  

you thought it was fine, of course she would talk to her own club teammates.

suddenly, you see her talking to lauren, erin, and millie.

your teammates.

maybe you shouldn’t have let it her ignoring you get to you, but it did.  

so when the match began, you played with a feeling you hadn’t felt in months. every duel with aitana felt personal, sometimes you side tackled making sure that you did not injure her– but you wanted her to feel that you weren’t going to take her easy because she is your girlfriend.

when you shoved her off the ball in the 38th minute and sent a long pass to erin, the crowd erupted.  

erin scored.  

chelsea was up 1-0.  

when the whistle blew for full-time, you exhaled, exhausted but victorious. one foot in the final.  

then you saw her.  

aitana was standing there, her hands on her hips, her jaw tight. when you walked past her, she finally spoke.  

"te sentiste bien con eso?" she asked, her voice sharper than usual.  

("did you feel okay about that?")

you turned to her, frowning.

 "¿qué?"  

(what?)

"celebraste como si hubieras ganado el torneo," she said, shaking her head. 

"ni siquiera has llegado a la final."  

("you celebrated as if you had won the tournament," 

"you didn't even make it to the finals.")

"¿en serio?" you scoffed. 

"pensé que sabías lo que es perder, aitana."  

("really?")

("i thought you knew what it was like to lose, aitana.")

the words hit harder than you meant them to.  

the catalan’s eyes darkened, her lips parting like she couldn’t believe you had said that. 

you felt something crack between you.  

she walked away without another word.  

again… since you left barcelona for chelsea, things between you and aitana had been slowly unraveling.  

at first, it was subtle, things you would not have noticed at first. 

fewer texts during the day, delayed responses at night. the good morning messages became inconsistent, and the calls that once stretched for hours dwindled into brief, necessary check-ins. 

she stopped sending you videos of her morning coffee, and you stopped sending her updates about your day. 

maybe neither of you had meant for it to happen, but the distance was already creeping in before you had even realized.  

long distance was not easy for people who did not seem to try. 

then came the international breaks.  

you saw aitana, of course, but it wasn’t the same.  

at barcelona, she had been your constant, the person you warmed up with, the one you sat beside at team meals, the one who instinctively reached for your hand under the table. 

now, during spain camps, there was an invisible line drawn between you. you stayed with alexia, jenni, and misa, falling into your old friendships with ease. aitana stuck close to laia, sharing private conversations you were no longer a part of.  

you noticed how she laughed easily with laia, how their heads tilted close when they whispered to each other. she looked comfortable. at ease.  

not with you.  

with you, there was hesitation, careful distance, like she wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. maybe you didn’t know how to act around her either. maybe the space between you had stretched too wide, and neither of you had the courage to bridge it.  

the worst part was, no one really questioned it.  

it wasn’t uncommon for teammates to gravitate toward different groups, to spend time with the people they were closest with. for you and aitana? that wasn’t how it used to be. people noticed. 

alexia did. jenni, too. misa had even asked once, "are you and aitana okay?"  

you had shrugged. 

"yeah, why wouldn’t we be?"  

that was a lie.  

every time you sat across from her at dinner and she didn’t meet your eyes, every time you cracked a joke that she didn’t laugh at, every time you passed by each other in the hotel hallways and all you got was a nod—  

you knew you weren’t okay.  

and the worst part?  

you didn’t know if you ever would be again.

the catalan observed you on the pitch during the game, and it was much different than seeing you on screen.

aitana hated seeing you in that blue.  

not the deep, royal blue of barcelona..the blue of london, of chelsea, of a club that was never hers and never would be. she hated how it clashed against her memories of you, how unnatural it looked after years of watching you wear the same colors as her, after years of sharing the same badge. 

she never said it aloud, never admitted how much it burned, but every time she saw you fidget with that chelsea jersey in your soft hands, something inside her twisted.  

you had chosen this. voluntarily. no one forced you out of barcelona. no one pushed you to leave. you just said that you were unhappy and dipped. you had made that decision yourself, and maybe that was what hurt the most.  

the breakdown of your relationship was affecting everyone…whether you wanted to admit it or not.  

especially the spanish girls.  

for years, you and aitana had been the bright, untouchable IT couple. the golden pair of spanish football, of barcelona, of la roja. everyone had seen the way you looked at each other, the way you moved in sync on the pitch, the way aitana’s fingers had always found yours in quiet moments, like it was second nature.  

now?  

now, it was different.  

now, you played in different leagues, wore different colors, fought for different goals. now, instead of love, there was rivalry…an obsession with being better, with proving something, even if neither of you could fully name what that something was.  

the worst part was, you still loved each other.  

you knew it. she knew it.  

however, football had consumed you both.  

aitana had become the best footballer in the world, crowned the ballon d’or winner in 2023 and 2024. you weren’t far behind, breaking into the top five both of those times, proving yourself among the best. 

you should have been celebrating each other, should have been proud, should have been side by side through it all.  

instead, you were enemies.  

or at least, that was what it felt like.  

and neither of you knew how to stop it.

in the second leg of the semifinals.. london was supposed to feel like home.  

as you stood on the pitch, staring ahead at your old team, nostalgia wrapped around you like a phantom touch.  

barcelona was celebrating. aitana was celebrating.  

the catalan team won, 2-1 overall.

you could still hear the echoes of their cheers as you walked toward lauren, wrapping your arms around your exhausted teammate. she let out a breath against your shoulder, hands gripping your back tightly, and for a second, you allowed yourself to sink into the embrace, closing your eyes.  

something clicked inside you.  

what went wrong?  

why were tana and i like this?  

you had left barcelona willingly. you had no regrets about coming to chelsea, about finding something new instead of repetitive. 

that didn’t mean you didn’t miss her.  

suddenly, you wondered…were you two just dragging along an inevitable end to your relationship? or had you just let too much time slip away, avoiding the hard conversations that long distance demanded?  

football was not supposed to be your whole life.  

somehow, it had become exactly that.  

you yearned for aitana. the ache was dull but ever present, sitting in your chest, right next to the love you still had for her.  

she didn’t yearn for you.  

at least, that was what you told yourself when you looked up and saw her laughing, arms wrapped around fridolina, her head thrown back in joy.  

she wasn’t thinking about you.  

she was happy.  

without you.  

you swallowed hard, turning away, willing yourself to push down the lump rising in your throat. you didn’t want to break, not here, not now.  

what you didn’t see was the way aitana’s expression shifted the moment you turned your back.. her smile faltered, then disappeared altogether. aitana’s eyes followed you, watching as you lowered your head, as you tried to disappear into the shadows of your own thoughts.  

she wanted to go to you.  

wanted to comfort you.  

but she didn’t.  

because she thought you would push her away.  

and maybe she would never know that you wouldn’t have.

bilbao, your home, felt warm. not because of the sun, not because of the excitement buzzing in the air for the champions league final. of course it had to be in your hometown, where chelsea could not play. 

anyways, 

despite everything, you were still here, sitting in the stands, supporting aitana, supporting your old club.  

you weren’t alone.  

"you look like you’re about to throw up," jill teased beside you, nudging your arm.  

you rolled your eyes, arms crossed as you kept your gaze fixed on the pitch. 

"i’m fine."  

you were not, something inside of you wondered if you should even be here.

"mhm," she hummed, unconvinced. 

"because ‘fine’ definitely means sitting stiff as a statue in the stands, staring at your girlfriend like you’re in a tragic romance film."  

you turned to glare at her, but jill just grinned.  

jill is supporting her girlfriend, jana, who plays for barcelona. you love jana like she was your little sister, so of course your bond with the dutch woman grew over the last year playing in the WSL together. 

"you can be honest, you know," she continued, leaning back in her seat. 

"long distance is hell. every woman who is dating another in this sport has been through it. doesn’t matter how strong you think you are…it tests you."  

your jaw clenched. 

"it’s not just that."  

"no?" jill’s voice was softer now.  

"it’s like... football became everything," you admitted, keeping your voice low. 

"for both of us. and now, i don’t even know if she sees me the same way anymore. or if she’s just... moved on from us."  

jill didn’t answer right away. instead, she turned her attention back to the pitch.  

"she hasn’t moved on," she finally said. 

"if she had, i do not think that you would be here."  

you exhaled through your nose, unsure how to respond to that.  

then—  

aitana broke the deadlock.  

your heart jumped as the ball hit the back of the net, as the stadium erupted around you.  

she did it.  

for a split second, you forgot about everything else.  

you stood up, clapping, cheering, your eyes locked on her. you could feel the love radiating from you, unfiltered and real, your chest swelling with pride.  

she celebrated with all of her teammates on the pitch.

after…she looked for you.  

you noticed immediately. the way she scanned the crowd after the celebrations, searching, searching…until her eyes found yours.  

love.  

it was there. in her gaze.  

and then you did it, instinctively, without thinking.  

your hands formed a heart.  

aitana’s expression softened, her lips parting slightly before she quickly did the same, her fingers curling into a small heart for you.  

your chest ached.  

"see?" jill’s voice cut in beside you. 

"she still sees you, and loves you."  

you sat down slowly, heart hammering, a light ease washing over you for the first time in months.  

this wasn’t a resolution.  

this was a moment.  

a reminder of what was still there.  

whether or not you and aitana could find your way back to each other…that was still unknown.

after the final whistle, its 2-0. barcelona had done it again. champions of europe. while part of you was proud, happy for your old club, for your friends, for her, another part of you felt misplaced, like you were intruding.  

the celebrations had already begun to die down when you finally made your way onto the pitch.  

you followed jill like a lost puppy, your steps hesitant as your boots pressed into the familiar grass. you shouldn’t feel like a stranger here, but you did.  

jill had no such hesitations. she spotted jana immediately and sprinted toward her, engulfing her in a hug, leaving you to stand awkwardly near the edge of the celebrations.  

you shouldn’t be here.  

the thought wormed its way into your mind, and for a second, you considered slipping away before anyone could notice you.  

then—  

“¡ahí estás!”  

(“there you are!”)

before you could react, a pair of arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight hug.  

patri.  

you exhaled, hugging her back as a soft laugh escaped your lips.  

"you knew i’d come," you muttered into her shoulder.  

"of course," she grinned, pulling back slightly, hands still gripping your arms. 

"and i’m glad you did. pero, qué pena," she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "i still wish you were on the team."  

you giggled, nudging her playfully. 

"i’m still very happy for you guys, regardless."  

"i know," patri said, squeezing your arm once more before glancing over your shoulder. 

"and i think there’s someone else who’s happy you’re here too."  

you followed her gaze, your breath hitching slightly when you saw aitana standing a few feet away.  

she looked frozen in place.  

she had clearly noticed you, had been watching, but she didn’t seem to know what to do.  

luckily, you did.  

without hesitating, you walked toward her, your arms spreading out slightly, offering her the space to meet you halfway.  

and she did.  

aitana;s arms wrapped around you, your own arms tightening around her waist. the moment you sank into her, you felt yourself relax in a way you hadn’t in months. the hug lasted far longer than it probably should have…neither of you willing to let go.  

you swayed side to side slightly, pressing your face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of her scent and shampoo.  

you needed this.  

you needed her.  

she needed you.

she needed this.

rivalry aside, distance aside, confusion aside…this was still the love of your life.  

"i’m happy you’re here," aitana finally murmured, voice quieter than usual.  

you smiled, pulling back just enough to look at her. 

"i’m happy that you won."  

aitana’s lips parted slightly. 

"really?"  

you laughed, shaking your head. 

"of course. i don’t hate you guys, you know."  

aitana let out a small breath, nodding. 

"lo sé, lo sé, no te preocupes."  

(“i know, i know, don't worry.")

something inside you wondered…did she know?  

you stood there for another few moments, wrapped in each other’s warmth, before ingrid called her name, snapping her back to reality.  

"i’ll see you later?" aitana asked, eyes searching yours.  

you hesitated, but nodded. 

"yeah."  

later never came.  

the moment had felt good…right, even…but after the final, things between you and aitana slipped right back into the same cycle.  

the texts remained sporadic, the calls non-existent. when you did text, conversations were short, often left unfinished.  

you told yourself it was just the aftermath of the season, the exhaustion, the obligations, but deep down, you knew better.  

it was affecting you.  

mentally, emotionally…you felt off. distracted during any outings in london, restless at night, constantly unlocking your phone only to lock it again, hoping for a message that never came.  

and aitana?  

she wasn’t doing much better.  

she threw herself into her training, into everything but you. she told herself that it was just easier this way, that if you wanted to talk, you would reach out first.  

but she missed you.  

she missed you in the quiet moments, in the in-betweens, when she grabbed her phone only to realize she had no reason to text you anymore. she missed you when she made her morning coffee and didn’t have anyone to send a picture to. she missed you when she caught herself scrolling through old photos, reading old texts, looking for something that felt like you.

the you before you left barcelona.  

and the spanish girls noticed.  

they weren’t blind. they weren’t stupid.  

they had watched you and aitana go from inseparable to distant. from untouchable to strained.  

and now, with the olympics just a few weeks away, they knew they had to do something.  

"okay, this is ridiculous," alexia sighed, crossing her arms as she sat in the living room of her home with jenni, misa, and salma. 

"we can’t go into the olympics like this."  

"they’re exhausting," misa groaned, tossing her head back against the couch. 

"they’re both miserable, and they’re making the rest of us miserable too."  

salma, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke up. 

"so what do we do?"  

alexia exchanged a glance with jenni.  

"we fix it," jenni smirked.  

misa frowned. 

"and how exactly do we do that?"  

alexia leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. 

"simple. we trap them."  

salma raised an eyebrow. 

"trap them?"  

"yes," alexia nodded. 

"they clearly aren’t going to talk on their own. so we make them."  

"we force them into a situation where they have to talk," jenni added, her smirk widening. 

"where they can’t just avoid each other like they’ve been doing for months. they’re acting like children."  

misa’s lips curled into a slow grin. 

"i love this."  

"what’s the plan?" salma asked.  

alexia exhaled. 

"we need them to be alone. somewhere they can’t just walk away."  

"like a room?" misa suggested.  

alexia shook her head. 

"too easy to leave."  

"an empty locker room?"  

"no, that’s too obvious."  

jenni’s eyes suddenly lit up. 

"what if we send them on an ‘errand’? make them think they have to pick something up for the team..except, surprise, they’re actually just stuck together."  

misa laughed. 

"oh, that’s evil. i love it."  

"perfect," alexia smirked. 

"we’ll figure out the details later. but for now, all we have to do is make sure neither of them suspect a thing."  

"so we act normal?" salma asked.  

"exactly," alexia nodded. 

"and then, when the time comes…"  

"we force them to talk," misa finished, her grin mischievous.  

the plan was set.  

and whether you and aitana liked it or not, the reckoning was coming.

four days later… it was misa who got to you first on the first day of national camp.  

“we need a favor,” she said, linking her arm with yours as you walked out of the locker room. 

“lexi and i were supposed to go pick up some stuff for the team, but we’re too tired. can you and aitana do it?”  

you blinked at her. 

“me and aitana?”  

misa smiled innocently, which meant she was up to something. 

“yes, you and aitana. come on, you owe me for all the times i’ve covered for you when you sneak snacks into camp on your period.. even after that son of a bitch said we could not have any.”  

son of a bitch = the old coach. 

“first of all, i did not sneak snacks,” you said, narrowing your eyes.  

misa ignored you. 

“it’ll only take, like, thirty minutes. max.”  

you hesitated, glancing toward the other side of the room where aitana stood, tying the laces of her trainers.  

“does she even want to go with me?” you muttered.  

misa grinned, pushing you forward. 

“she just doesn’t know it yet.”  

ten minutes later..

“okay,” you said, stopping in the middle of the empty hallway. 

“this is a trap.”  

aitana turned to look at you, arms crossed. 

��what?”  

“this,” you gestured around, at the hallway, at the fact that the ‘errand’ misa had sent you on led to a completely locked storage room. 

“this is a setup.”  

aitana frowned, glancing at the door and then back at you. 

“they wouldn’t…”  

you both stared at each other.  

they absolutely would.  

aitana exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. 

“unbelievable.”  

“you think they’ll let us out if we start screaming?” you joked, leaning back against the wall.  

aitana sighed, shaking her head. 

“they won’t let us out until we talk.”  

you swallowed. 

“do you want to?”  

silence.  

aitana’s gaze fell to the floor, her arms still crossed over her chest like she was trying to hold something in.  

“do you?” you asked again, softer this time.  

aitana clenched her jaw. 

“i don’t know where to start.”  

you took a deep breath. 

“start with why you’ve been acting like i abandoned you.”  

aitana’s head snapped up. 

“because it felt like you did!” she blurted, her voice raw, full of something broken.  

you inhaled sharply.  

“i didn’t leave you,” you whispered.  

aitana let out a bitter laugh. 

“no? then why does it feel like you did? you left barcelona, you left me, you left everything we had, and you just…acted like it was normal. like it didn’t mean anything.”  

your chest ached. 

“it wasn’t about you, aitana.”  

“then why?” she pressed, stepping closer, her voice trembling. 

“why did you leave?”  

you swallowed hard, your hands clenching at your sides. 

“because i was depressed.”  

aitana’s eyes widened slightly.  

“i wasn’t okay,” you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. 

“i needed a change, a new club, something different. there was no abuse at barcelon, no mistreatment, no one pushed me out so do not worry about that…but i wasn’t happy anymore. i needed to go somewhere else, to breathe, to feel again.”  

aitana stayed silent, her lips parted slightly as if she wasn’t sure what to say.  

“you know i was not getting a lot of starting time. you knew how much the national team things were getting to me. i just needed to get out of spain, okay?”

you exhaled shakily, your voice dropping. 

“and it hurts me that you took it so personally. like i chose to leave you like i wanted to hurt you.”  

aitana’s face softened, her brows furrowing.  

you shook your head, blinking rapidly to push back the tears threatening to fall. 

“i miss you, aitana. i miss us. i miss what we were before all of this.”  

aitana exhaled, stepping closer.  

“so do i,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“i just…I hated seeing you at chelsea. it felt wrong. it felt like you weren’t mine anymore.”  

you let out a watery laugh. 

“i was never not yours.”  

aitana’s lips parted again, her expression pained.  

you wiped your face, your breath uneven.

 “i’m sorry for leaving… but i’m not sorry for choosing chelsea.”  

aitana nodded slowly, processing your words.  

“and if you can’t do long distance anymore, then our three-year relationship can end here,” you said, voice shaking despite the steadiness of your tone.  

aitana’s entire body tensed.  

you swallowed hard, meeting her eyes. 

“but i don’t want it to end, i do not think it needs to end if we can get through this and find resolutions.”  

aitana shook her head, stepping forward abruptly. 

“i don’t either.”  

the words crashed over you like a wave.  

you let out a soft sob, and aitana’s arms were around you before you could think. 

you collapsed into her hold, pressing your face into her shoulder as she held you tighter than she ever had before.  

“i love you,” she whispered into your hair, her voice breaking.  

your fingers curled into the fabric of her hoodie, clutching onto her like she was the only thing keeping you grounded.  

“i love you too,” you breathed.  

you stayed like that for a long time, clinging to each other in the silence, breathing in sync. aitana’s hand ran soothingly up and down your back, her touch grounding, familiar, home.  

after a while, aitana sighed, her chin resting on top of your head. 

“what do we do now?”  

you pulled back just enough to look at her. 

“after the olympics, we take some time. just us. no football, no rivalry. just time to forgive each other, to move past this.”  

aitana nodded, eyes filled with something softer. 

“and we figure out how to make this work. properly.”  

you managed a small smile. 

“yeah.”  

aitana cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing away the stray tear that had fallen. 

“i don’t want to lose you.”  

you leaned into her touch, your eyes fluttering shut. 

“then don’t.”  

aitana pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling you into her arms again, her body warm and solid against yours.  

this was not a perfect resolution.  

there was still work to do. still things to figure out.  

but for now, this was enough.  

this is love.

masterlist

[dafterdarling]

just me and you // alexia putellas

alexia putellas x lioness!reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol

summary: you desperately need a date to viv and beth's wedding and alexia happens to be there

word count: 1963

You look down at the white envelope in your hand, your name is written in elegant script on the front with a small smiley face that must have been added after the fact.

You smile back at it.

You don't even have to open it to know that it's for Beth's wedding but you rip it open anyway. It's the typical, we invite you to our wedding kind of stuff but what stumps you is the plus one that is given.

This is where your overthinking begins... If you don't bring anyone, you'll look a little odd but who are you supposed to bring?

The only other person at Barca that is going is Keira and she'll bring Laura.... and Ona is going to be Lucy's date and no one else knows Beth or Viv outside the professional sense.

So your options seem to reduce to no one very quickly.

You groan and throw the invitation on the coffee table before launching yourself on to the sofa, letting out a soft grunt when you hit the pillows.

God, the only way out was to meet someone before the wedding... and you had a couple of months to do so.

You begin with Tinder and promptly delete it after Ana 30 messages you for an autograph. You move on to Hinge and Bumble... you're meet with similar conservations- some ask for tickets, others for signatures. Then there are the occasional weird conversations, someone asking you whether you liked feet like they did or an in depth description of what they would 'do to you' which resulted in an immediate block.

This seemed to be going nowhere so you were about to just accept your fate and decide going alone is the best course of action until a random Tuesday training.

"So you got a date for Beth's yet?" Keira asks as she gives you a little bump with her shoulder whilst you drink your water.

You shrug and then give her a pointed look that explains everything or at least you hope it does because you don't feel like explaining all that.

She shrugs back, "You should just ask Alexia."

You snap your head to her as you spit out the water you'd been drinking- You had told her about your two year long crush on Alexia in confidence and here she was saying it out loud like it was obvious.

"What! No- absolutely not.. no just no." You sputter out, spilling water all over yourself and the grass.

Keira laughs and elbows your side to catch your attention again- you look at where or more like who she points at- It's Alexia, looking beautiful in the team issue training clothes and walking towards you.

You panic slightly, hoping she hadn't overheard your conversation since that would be a mess to sort out and your contract still had a year on it. You really didn't want to have to avoid her for a year.

"Hola." Alexia greets the two of you and bends down to collect her own water.

You mumble back a polite 'Bon dia' and look anywhere but her. Your cheeks are burning and you know you must look as red as a tomato, you pray that she doesn't notice.

Keira, who still stands next to you, elbows you again and whispers, "Just ask her, this is your chance, Y/N."

You shake your head frantically and are about to say something but Alexia beats you to it.

"What are you talking about?" Her accented English reaches your ears and you feel the tips off them heat up.

You are about to make up some excuse or just blatantly lie but Keira tells her the truth.

"We got invited to a teammates wedding and Y/N is trying to find a date but she's got no luck." Keira jokes.

You look at her with sharp eyes and then laugh lightly trying to play off your awkwardness with a smile. Alexia smiles back at you and that makes it a hundred times more difficult not to lose your cool when you notice just how radiant she looks when she smiles.

"I think I'm just gonna go alone for this one."

"What- no.." Alexia thinks for a moment, "It not bad luck to go alone?"

You bite your tongue as you try not to blush at her broken English. She was right, it was probably bad luck to go to a close friends wedding alone but you couldn't ask her... Could you?

"I go with you?"

And this time you snap your head in Alexia's direction, shock written all over your face.

"It will be fun, no?"

You nod trying to hide the growing feeling in your heart as she speaks to herself in Spanish that you don't understand.

The months pass quickly and you almost forget about the wedding altogether with Champions League games piling on top of the league and the cup adding to the stress with you trying to supress your feelings as the cherry on top of the cake.

It all comes to a halt when Alexia asks you what you plan to wear one evening after a match.

"What you wearing?" She askes, leaning against the wall as you zip your coat up, "To the wedding." She clarifies and you swear you can see blush on her cheeks but you play it off as lighting.

Your heart does a little flip when you hear her voice and then immediately sinks when you realise you haven't thought about your clothes yet.

Alexia must notice it too as suddenly her hand is on your bicep, rubbing up and down reassuringly.

"What.." You cough, trying to hide your blush, "What are you wearing?"

You try to steer the conversation away from you and it works for a brief moment.

"A dress.." She chuckles, "Maybe yellow? It will be summer, no?"

You nod, not much matches yellow and you weren't planning on wearing a dress.. no matter how hot it was going to be. Plus, did Alexia even want to match with you? It's not like... you were a couple or something.

Even though... deep down you wished you were.

"You.. wear a suit, no?" Alexia smiles at you kindly.

You snap out of your thoughts and raise your brows in shock but nod along.

"Classic is best."

And you once again find yourself nodding along and then suddenly she leans in to kiss you on the cheek as a goodbye. It makes you blush furiously and sputter out your own goodbye in horrible Spanish.

You keep her words in mind later that evening when buying your clothes, opting for black seeing as Alexia was most likely to approve of that.

But just to make sure, you send her a screenshot to which she responds with a heart, making your own one grow tight for a moment.

The wedding rolls around quicker than you'd expected.

After lifting the Champions League with Barca for the third time, you find yourself in a garden decked out with beautiful flowers and soft music playing as you wait for Viv and Beth to finish their photos after the ceremony.

Alexia returns with your drinks and you thank her as you blush. She looks beautiful, pale yellow dress fitting wonderfully into the wedding and the cut allows the most tasteful eyeful of her.

An eyeful you try not to make apparent.

You can a large gulp hoping it will calm your nerves but all you feel is the alcohol. Suddenly, you can't tell whether it's Alexia or the drink making you feel is light headed.

"You..." You start and then suddenly stop when Alexia looks at you. You blush under her gaze but continue anyway, "You look nice.. I mean beautiful... yeah really pretty.."

You wish you could smack yourself for that one but you're in a public space and Alexia is right next to you.

"Gracias." She says and you swear it's blush on her cheeks too but maybe it's just the low lighting.

She's about to continue but Leah spots you out of the corner of her eye and wanders up to you, greeting you with a tight hug.

"Was it your plan to look like a bumble bee couple or what?" She jokes and laughs.

Your eyes widen and you go to correct her but Alexia is already speaking over you.

"We think it's cute, no?" She wraps an arm around your waist and yours automatically makes it's way to her bare shoulders.

Any thoughts of denying Leah's assumption go flying out the window when Alexia is slotted into your side. Instead you happily chat away until it's time for the first dance.

The rest of the night is a whirlwind- the party is fully going now and it's safe to say that you're buzzed, if not even a little drunk after the amount you've had.

You're leaning against the bar, resting your face against the cold marble when a hand tugs you off your barstool and onto the dancefloor.

You yelp as your being dragged away from the comfort of the bar and are about to protest when you notice it's Alexia. Her hands are on your forearms and she's jumping up and down to the beat, urging you to dance along with her.

You grin, the alcohol mixing with the excitement- making all nervousness you have have had before fade away. It's now that you notice the light layer of sweat on Alexia's skin, it makes her baby hairs stick to her forehead but it makes you fall in love harder and want her that little bit more.

You feel as though your suffocating in your jacket and hot air fills your lungs every time you can a breath but you could careless if it means you get to dance with Alexia.

The same Alexia you'd fallen in love with on your first day at Barca and the same one that was with you now.

The fast dance song fades into a slow romantic one that you briefly recognise from some film and Alexia's hands slide from your arms to your shoulders prompting you to put yours on her waist.

Maybe it's the alcohol or the fact that Alexia's hands are on you again but you blurt out three words that could ruin everything, "I like you."

Alexia freezes in your arms and for a moment you think she's going to run off but instead she leans forwards to rest her head against your shoulder and chuckles into your ear.

"I know, carino,"

You laugh in shock and then she runs a hand down your nape, making you shiver with anticipation.

"I like you too... a lot." Alexia admits whilst the two of you sway gently to the music.

For an instant, it's like there is no one else but her and so you lean back to look at her before putting your lips on hers.

The kiss is as sweet as you expected it to be- you can taste the alcohol on her tongue and you're sure she can taste it on yours but it doesn't matter because she's kissing you back.

Your hands tighten on her waist, trying to keep you both upright as she kisses you back passionately. You hear a whistle in the background that sounds a lot like Lucy's but you ignore it.

Instead, when the kiss breaks apart, you lean your head on her shoulder and find yourself relaxing when she doesn't pull away from you.

You whisper sweetly into her ear, "It was like.. there was just me and you for a moment then.."

You can feel Alexia smile and it makes your heart tighten like it's about to explode. Knowing that she felt it too.

[samkerrworshipper]

lights are on, but nobody’s home

barca femeni x reader

it’s unedited. i’m not sorry about it, if it puts u off then soz icbf. this fic has been in my drafts since october so it was about time i finished it! combined to fics lol to get it done and its a fast paced very vague mess but have fun :) loved the idea not the execution!

warnings: kinda angsty?

Red cards exist in the game for a reason. You don’t deny that. Red cards are needed to keep people safe, to set a boundary between safe and unsafe play. But there had been something so undeniably unfair about yours.

You’d hurt somebody, you weren’t going to lie about that. It had been unintentional, but a risk you’d taken had ended up with the world’s best player being stretchered off the pitch, and for just that, you deserved a yellow. But a red, for a tackle that was mostly legal, seemed ridiculous. Tackles happened. As a defensive midfielder, it was your job to get the ball off attackers, it was your responsibility to make sure that you stopped the ball from being kicked in the direction of your keeper or down the field to another player. It was what cemented your spot in the English midfield; you weren’t just a good attacker; you were ferocious in defence. You averaged at least 5 tackles per game; it was the most crucial part of your game; it was fundamentally what made you a good footballer.

Arguing with the ref and using some particularly vulgar language definitely didn’t help your case but in your defence it hadn’t been a red cardable offence. It was all pointless though, the card had already been raised and pointed in your direction, you’d been booked, in a friendly of all games.

It was bad, you’d know that from the moment your cleats had stepped over the line, the incessant booing being directed towards you as you walked past Sarina the grim frown etched into the details of her face was enough of a sign. You were in a bad situation, but you’d just put your team in an even worse situation with a one less player on the field to continue the fight in the world cup final rematch. It wasn’t good, it was your job to make sure that your team was in the best situation to achieve success on the pitch and you’d jeopardised that. What you hadn’t realised was that action wasn’t only jeopardising your team, it was jeopardising you as a whole.

It had begun from the moment you’d gotten back to your hotel room later that night. Your teammates had focused all of their energy on trying to lift your spirits, with the game ending in a 1-1 draw, everyone was happy. The England team was your second family, and considering you didn’t play in the WSL like the vast majority of them, national team time was valuable to you. You sat next to Beth on the ride back to the hotel, happy to listen to her non-stop talking as a distraction for the disappointment that had settled inside of you. At team dinner, you sat sandwiched in between Grace and Ella; most dinners spent on your normal table, you struggled to get a word in, but it was the constant surrounding buzz that kept you out of your head and specifically off of your phone, and you were more grateful than usual that you had that. By the time you’d even made it to your room and gone through your nighttime routine, you still hadn’t checked your phone. It was only as you began to prepare yourself to get into bed that you headed towards your bag to fish it out. You climbed into bed, finally opening your phone for the first time, and instead of it having a handful of messages from your family and a sprinkle of Instagram notifications, there were thousands. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, newsforums, both English and Spanish; as you scrolled down the list, it only got bigger. All of it was the same, about how you’d ‘intentionally’ injured your own club teammate to benefit your national team, how you were malicious, how you had played beyond the line of safe play, how you deserved to be penalised, how you had ruined sportsmanship. It was never-ending, and the more that you read, the worse it got. You felt like a shell of yourself as your eyes scanned the different words; you completely dissociated it all. It felt like you were reading about somebody else, like there was absolutely no possibility that the sentences you were absorbing could possibly be about you. There was so much falsity behind all of it that it was hard to understand it. You’d played the same you always did, you hadn’t played dangerously, you’d played within the rules as you always did. Beyond that, you’d visited Aitana in the change rooms after the game, desperate to apologise and make sure that you hadn’t done any damage or hurt her in any way. Your play hadn’t been malicious, there hadn’t been any ill intention or hatred fueled behind it, even though every single article or post was making it seem that way. Aitana had come off after the clash purely as a caution, when you’d gone to see her, all she was dealing with was a little bit of inflammation. By the time you were both back in Barcelona, she’d be as good as new. Even after watching the replays, it was clear to anybody with eyes that all you were doing was fighting for the ball, the same as every other 1-on-1 battle throughout the game. Yet as soon as a spotlighted player got injured, it was suddenly a different story being told.

Normally you would shake it off, in general, you were the kind of person who didn’t get bothered by much, You were a bubbly and happy person, you were the kind of teammate who was always smiling and trying to make other people laugh. Usually, if you had a teammate who was in the same situation as you were now, you would be the one picking them up and trying to help them shake off all of this. It wasn’t normally a struggle for you to overcome a little bit of hate, but there was something so shattering about this. Whilst you still believed deep down that you’d done nothing wrong, it was hard to convince yourself of that when there were so many people who were telling you otherwise.

You weren’t the kind of person who regularly fell into the mind numbing action of doom scrolling, you weren’t big on social media in general, it was something you had to do because of your job but not much else beyond that. Yet right now it felt impossible to deviate away from it, every time you saw your name pop up again somewhere you were drawn to another dark place of the internet where you kept reading until you were mentioned or tagged in another post and your phone lit up with a new piece of media.

It was never ending, it just kept coming, and the longer you indulged in it, the sicker you started to feel. Had you done something wrong? Were you truly as malicious as everyone wrote? Were you the bad person they were painting you to be?

It was impossible to not consider that potentially everyone else was right, maybe you were the problem.

It was a good day to be roomed with Lucy, she’d been in bed before you’d even made it up to the room and asleep whilst you’d been showering. If the sounds of snoring were anything to go off of then she was long gone, which made you feel more secure as you muffled a sob into your pillow. It was going to be fine, by the time morning rolled around it would be forgotten. Or at least that was what you thought.

The convenience of playing your games in Spain was that unlike majority of your teammates, you were able to sleep in the following morning instead of flying back to their club teams. Lucy was gone long before you woke up, something you were specifically grateful for because whilst Lucy was mostly oblivious, you weren’t sure if you would have been able to hide your red eyes and puffy face. You hadn’t had much sleep, but even in the few hours that you had managed to get, the notifiations on your phone had only multiplied significantly. Every second your phone lit up again, and for the sake of your own brain you chose to switch it off completely. If you stayed in the shower a little longer because you got so lost thinking about it all that your feet started to go numb from the water pressure there was nobody around to say anything about it. If you happened to space out halfway through your skincare and accidentally spill half of your serum down the sink it was nothing a bit of water from the sink couldn’t fix. Every time you thought you’d forgotten about it all, like you’d drifted away from everything you’d read and then suddenly it all came back to you like some sick fever dream. It was the same words that kept circulating, and every time it came back to you it was impossible to just let it go.

You were half way dressed when your door was knocked on. It was what woke you up to the fact that you had absolutely no idea what time it was or how long you’d spent spaced out and in your brain.

You weren’t shocked to find Keira waiting outside your door, looking significantly more put together then you were.

“Mate, I’ve texted you about 30 times. The taxis here to take us to the airport.”

Fuck. You’d forgotten that you were taking a group taxi instead of leaving the hotel individually.

“Give me five minutes, I slept in and forgot to pack up last night.”

Keira cut you off before you continued your ramble of excuses.

“I’ll help you pack up, you focus on getting dressed and sorting yourself out, okay?”

Keira wasn’t your closest friend, she was one of the few people on the Barcelona team that spoke fluent english which grouped the two of you together. She was also one of your idols coming through as the youngest midfielder in the English and Barcelona squad. But personality wise the two of you didn’t jell, you were too energetic and a little bit too immature to buddy up with her. It didn’t change the fact that she was basically an older sister to you. She wasn’t exactly the person you’d go to for relationship advice or confess your troubling thoughts to. But she was the person you could rely on to help you in any situation without asking questions, and this really was an extension of that.

Keira made quick work of packing up your things from around your room whilst you finished getting dressed and putting your hair in a messy bun.

By the time you’d made yourself look just enough presentable for the public eye Keira was done, all of your bags piled together at your hotel room door.

“I found your phone at the bottom of your bag, looks like you might want to charge it before the drive.”

Right now, your phone felt like a block of dynamite, balancing in Keira’s hand, ready to explode at any second.

“No, I just turned it off.”

You didn’t really think about how odd your words could sound until they’d left your mouth, and Keira’s eyebrows were raising quickly.

“You just turned it off?”

It’s an unusual behaviour for you, one that Keira has clearly picked up on by the tone in her voice. Your phone is practically an extension of you, the team didn’t joke about you having square eyes for nothing. Always getting people to film tiktoks or do stupid challenges.

“Yes?”

You actively observe all of the cogs in Keira’s brain turning, she looks like she has a lot to say, but then she glances down at her watch and it’s clear that the fact that you are running well behind time takes priority.

“Let’s go, the taxi is waiting.”

Keira practically pushed you out of the hotel room, all of your bags in her hands and ushering you straight towards the elevator.

As she’d said, the taxi is waiting in front of the lobby, the driver looks particularly ticked off as he waits outside the drivers side door, his foot tapping and a cigarette hanging halfway out of his mouth. Keira loads your suitcase into the boot of the car whilst you take your backpack off of her and hop into the back of the car, Keira follows and sits down across from you.

The first five minutes of the ride are silent, Keira flicks through her phone whilst you stare out the tinted window and pretend that you can see the things passing by.

“You can talk to me you know? I know we’re not exactly the closest, but I’m here for you.”

You don’t bother to look in Keira’s direction, you keep your eyes and facial expression schooled and focused on the window.

“Anything the media writes is bullshit, you ought to just ignore it.”

You wished you could have ignored it last night, when theoretically you were at your most vulnerable. Maybe if you hadn’t of read so much when you were already in a bad mindset it wouldn’t have imprinted so much, regardless it has and you can’t just ignore it.

“Kei, I’m fine. When have I ever cared what the papers write about me?”

Now, right now is when you care. It’s a fair statement though, you’ve never been affected when tabloids have written far worse things about you, when you came out and for months there was homophobic slander everywhere you looked. In the past it hadn’t been based off of facts, it had all been fictitious. But now that there is just a inkling of truth behind what’s being written it feels far more real and you aren’t sure how to get past that.

“I’m just saying that there isn’t anything wrong with being affected by it. Especially after last night, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that.”

This is the trouble between you and Keira, she’s a lot more frank. In your opinion it’s a thing that comes with age, whilst she’s very happy to admit when she’s going through a hard time you’d rather cover it up with jokes and pretend that it doesn’t actually bother you. The trouble with your approach is that it only works for so long before people start to see you fraying at the edges or you completely break down from the pressure.

“Just mad I hurt your bestfriend, huh?”

The only response you get from Keira is a loud exhale, the same a mother would when her child makes a immature joke at a immature time. Immaturity is your coping mechanism, because by default people tend to be put off by it, they naturally gravitate away from it. Furthermore they gravitate away from whatever conversation or confrontation they were going to have.

“I’m not mad, I’m concerned for you and how something like this can affect a persons career.”

It’s too many feelings, to much concern, too much. You don’t deserve it and you definitely do not want it.

“I’m fine, we play football, it’s part of it all.”

You still haven’t looked at Keira but you could make an educated guess and assume that she looks deflated. It’s another reason that out of Keira and Lucy you’d always gotten along better with Lucy, you didn’t care to admit it but she knew how to get to the bottom of all of your weird cues and knew what was right and wrong to say. Keira’s too smart for her own good, and it doesn’t work on you, it never has. She’s all you have at Barca now though, besides Roebs, whose been too focused on her rehab and getting back on the pitch to be much of a friend.

“Hate shouldn’t be part of it. If you need to talk about the fact that some part of it is clearly bothering you then I’m here, anybody else on the team is here. Okay?”

You nod purely for the sake of ending the conversation, you can’ even figure out how you feel about it all, let alone trying to rationalise it with Keira. You’re upset, yet you can’t quite get to the bottom of it. You’ve never been upset before when your actions have ended in somebody else getting injured, it’s a rare occurence and when it happens you feel a little bit of guilt but usually it fades. Injury is part of the game, it happens all the time right in front of your eyes. You suppose Aitana isn’t actually injured though, she’s sore and has a low grade ankle sprain but it’s nowhere near the same as her tearing her acl or breaking a bone because of you. You just feel drained, it’s odd, you put it down to the fact that you hardly got any sleep last night but you have this underlying feeling that it’s somehow more than that, yet you have no explanation for it.

After a long break of silence Keira and yourself fall into a fairly bland conversation about the upcoming fixtures and winter break plans. It’s so evident that there is tension in every word each of you speak, like you’re both a few syllables away from saying something that neither of you want to.

Luckily Keira is a lot more cautious than most people, unlike most of you friends or teammates in general she can control herself to a respectable level and can stop herself from word vomiting emotion fueled spieles.

By the time the driver pulls up in front of your apartment building not much has been said at all, but the overarching feeling is tense, it doesn’t feel good and the mixture of it with the everything else is making you feel sick. Keira gives you a hug after helping you unload your luggage and then leaves you. You know that outwardly you’re presenting that you want to be left alone yet everything in you is being used to stop yourself from clinging onto Keira and asking her to stay with you.

Your week is a lot of the same feelings. You have two days to yourself before training starts again and the two days are spent in bed. If you aren’t scrolling on your phone andreading every single thing that has your name mentioned then you are sleeping, or crying, or lying in bed thinking about it all. Every text from one of your teammates is left unopened, none of it matters when every single waking moment of your life is being spent thinking about the moment over and over again. It’s not just your career, not just the fact that you’re going to have to sit out in the next fixture and potentially tarnish your relationship with Sarina. You hurt Aitana, you hurt your ownt teammate. Your own actions had caused harm to somebody that you cared about. Every article, tiktok, post they were all painting you in some kind of negative light, like you were a demon hiding behind smiles. It was hard not to consider the truth behind it all, had you done what you did with malicious intent?

By the time training finally rolled around you were feeling even worse than you had a couple of days ago. Even though you’d been sleeping for hours a day there wer ebig eye bags under your eyes, you were pale and looked like you were sick. It was noticed by your teammates almost immediately, you weren’t even fully dressed in the change rooms before Pina was punching on you, talking rapidly in Catalan that you didn’t remotely understand.

“Chica, you missed our games night last night. To busy sleeping off the four goals you scored over the break, no? You need to leave some goals for other people.”

You shook Pina off as quickly as you could, you had a focus for the day and that was getting all of this over with. You had a game in three days, a game that you couldn’t ruin for your team again.

“Estas bien?”

You finish pulling your training top on and sit down on the bench in front of your locker.

“Estoy Bien.”

You focus on getting a sock on each of your feet and then your boots.

“Chica?”

There is concern laced in Pina’s voice, she’s still standing in front of you. Almost everybody else has made their way out onto the pitch, leaving the two of you and a couple of stragglers behind.

“You don’t look so good chica, are you feeling okay?”

Your boots are easy enough to lace up, once you’re done you reach behind you for your jacket, not quite sure if it’s warm enough to train in just your shirt.

“Estoy Bien. Vale?”

Before Pina can ask much more, you begin to walk towards the doors of the locker room. It’s breezy enough outside that you choose to put your jumper on, as do most of your teammates.

Aitana is doing individual training, because of her ankle. Pere says that it’s precautionary.

If you weren’t already feeling like you were on the brink of vomiting then now it’s the only thing you can feel. You feel ill, you feel completely absorbed by the sickness pooled at the bottom of your stomach. When Pere asks if you’re feeling alright you can’t say no, because you have no reason to feel as badly as you do. But it’s all the words, they’re spinning around in your head, every article, every single word.

It shows on the pitch, every decision, every pass, every shot, every tackle is helf back. You’re fearufl and it shows.

When training finally does finish, and Aitana is still working by herself with one of the coaches on another pitch you feel like it’s almost your breaking point. Until Pere pulls you over again and lets you know that you’ll be starting for the match on the weekend as a replacement for Aitana.

That’s your breaking point. You have nothing to say, nothing to think. You feel like a zombie as you walk towards the locker room. You sabotaged your teammate for your own good.

As soon as the team list is out that’s the only thing people will be saying, You don’t even want to think about what people will think when they see the photos of Aitana training by herself with her ankle all taped up. Whilst you were out on the pitch with all of your teammates. What was just starting to get better for you was only bound to relapse with the new information.

All of the girls notice your shift in behaviour. It’s Pina though who approaches Alexia on your third day of training back. Aitana is still training individually, purely for precaution and preservation. There are more important games then the one coming on the weekend and it’s not worth aggravating the small injury. It doesn’t feel like that to you though, and it’s been abundantly clear to everybody that something is up with you.

“Alexia, can I talk to you for a second?”

Alexia’s been talking to Irene about ….. for at least ten minutes and whilst Pina has no interest in interrupting it’s getting boring waiting around for a conversation to end that’s clearly dragging.

Alexia looks so care free, and Pina asking to talk to her shouldn’t change that, but the look that’s on her face changes Alexia’s demeanour almost immediately.

“What’s up?”

Pina looks at Irene awkwardly, like she’s not sure if the information she’s about to share with Alexia is for Irene’s ears. Irene seems to get the message, farewelling the two of them before heading off.

“I’m worried about y/n.”

Alexia’s silently been wondering whether to approach the subject. She’d thouyght about asking Keira is something had happened on England camp, considering that your particularly filthy mood had seemed to start afterwards. It was out of character for you, and originally Alexia had thought it was all part of some sort of prank plot. But as the last couple of days had passed it had become drastically clear that there was something else wrong. She’d thought it would be smarter to give you the benefit of the doubt, everyone had bad weeks. Alexia wasn’t aware of any relationships you were in but she wouldn’t have been shocked if your mood had been due to a breakup or something of similar origin.

“Ale, she’s been acting strange. She comes in everyday and hardly talks to anybody, she doesn’t joke around with use like she normally does, she hasn’t been answering our groupchat, she’s been avoiding all of our plans to hang out. Out on the pitch she’s been cautious but so unphased and she won’t talk to me or Ona or Patri or Kika or Esmee and I don’t know what to do anymore. Somethings really wrong, normally she’s so happy, I mean everyones noticed that the locker room has been more quiet. I thought it was going to pass, but she’s seemed really upset, like somethings really wrong and what’s happening on the internet can’t be helping it.”

The problem is that Alexia doesn’t disagree with anything that Pina is saying, she can’t dismiss any of it as overreaction because whether it’s been conscious or not she has noticed all of the things that she’s being told. She hadn’t yet pieced it all together as one thing but now that all the puzzle pieces are being laid out in front of her it seems impossible to ignore that it’s all coming together.

“On the internet? De qúe estás hablando?”

Alexia is the first to admit that she’s not exactly the best with technology, sure she’s got all the social media apps and Olga is constantly trying to teach her the ways of all of them but it doesn’t particularly interest her. She finds it easier to look at them as another means of work, it’s how she makes money, posting about football and endorsements. Otherwise she finds enjoyment in places besides her phone. Does it keep her slightly out of the loop? Yes. Does she have younger teammates to keep her up to date? Also yes.

“All the stuff about Aitana. I haven’t read into it much, but I know it’s not good. The media have been slaughtering her for that red card. She punishes herself enough after a bad tackle or pass, I can’t imagine what a red card would do.”

Alexia makes a mental note to look into it later but for now she knows that she needs to deescalate. Because if Pina is telling Alexia now then it’s not long before it blows up within the team.

“Okay. I’ll talk to her tomorrow after the game, if she’s still off I’ll talk to her. I’ll have a chat with Keira and ask if anything asked on camp, bueno? Whatever it is Pina, it can be fixed, all problems can be fixed. I’m sure it’s just been a rough week with all the travel and games, not everybody can adjust well, mixed with the recent fixtures it would be expected that everyone is feeling a bit more exhausted.”

It’s the rationalisation that seems to calm Pina down more, which was ultimately Alexia’s end goal. She can deal with you tomorrow but for now it’s crucial that she stops this from escalating within the team. When things spread it all becomes more drama and it’s not good, distractions are not what everybody needs leading into the next fixtures.

Alexia honestly forgets about the conversation completely. Between organising dinner the night before, stretching, spending quality time with her girlfriend and generally just getting herself game ready and in a good head space. She woke up feeling rested and prepared for the game ahead.

You however, were quite simply a mess. You’d hardly slept in over a week now, if you did sleep you woke up in a sweat after a particularly brutal nightmare, you were hardly eating because you always felt so nauseous from the anxiety and your performance on the football pitch had been dismaying.

Alexia, and your teammates, weren’t noticing the smaller things. You lived in your own apartment, in your own building. Nobody was aware of everything that was contributing to all the things that were beginning to show.

Alexia, hyper vigilant after Pina’s admission decided that she’d try and find you before everyone hopped on the bus to head to the opposing stadium, yet you were nowhere to be found. As everyone loaded onto the bus she almost missed you. Usually, you sat at the back, with the younger girls. Normally, Alexia gravitated somewhere in the middle of the bus, she was too old to be singing or messing around at the back but she liked to still be kept in the mix.

It was why she almost missed you, hunched into a seat almost at the very front of the bus.

“Chica?”

The way your whole body darted upwards as soon as you heard Alexia was another concerning thing that she was adding to a mental list.

“Capi.”

You pull your headphones off as a courtesy, but the reintroduction to the sounds of earth and the environment around you brings you right back to everything you’ve been feeling.

“Are you waiting for Kika or Vicky?”

Alexia feels like she already knows your answer, but she’s hanging on to a thread of hope that whatever Pina is feeling isn’t as bad as it seems.

“No, I need some sleep and it’s impossible to get any back there without somebody sticking something in my mouth or posting videos of me with my mouth half open.”

Alexia laughs, it’s the exact reason she can’t sit up the back anymore, it’s too much stupidity in a concentrated space.

“Ah, normally you’re more than happy to terrorize the rest of us, normalmente eres la reina de los estupidas.”

When your face doesn’t even respond slightly to Alexia and you have no witty comeback about her being boring or something else it’s another clear sign that something is up, she just can’t quite pin point what.

You’ve tuned out from her though, and as much as she is worried and thrown off, the bus is not a place to make a scene, specifically before a match. You will not take well to Alexia interrogating you and potentially causing any kind of emotional distress.

So, even though it pains her to do so, she walks on, she leaves you in the sinking ship you’re currently n in, taking on more and more water as every minute passes.

You’re at a point where you can admit to yourself that you are in no way fit to play.

You don’t want to be on the pitch, the fans don’t want you on the pitch, your teammates musn’t want you on the pitch, Pere wouldn’t have you on the pitch if Aitana was available and when you think about it the whole footballing world doesn’t want you on the pitch.

You flinch when you walk out to warm up and are met with boos, the Spanish fans are unlike all other fans, their passion is palpable and when one person starts booing everybody follows suit. It’s not even Barcelona fans, which is undecidedly worse and better. The overall impression is that you’ve aggravated the Spanish people.

It takes your teammates a couple of seconds to catch on to who it is the anger is being directed at but once they do it’s a domino affect of everybody turning to you, and then turning to each other and back to you. You try your best to not let it affect you, you’ve been booed before and have dealt with many angry fans, but when it starts to echo from the away side of the stands you honestly question if you’ve pushed yourself a little bit too hard.

Alexia regrets her decision not to say something to you when she sees the complete fear in your eyes as you look around at the crowd, who are vehemently booing you. It’s not a good feeling on any day to clearly have a crowd so against you but when you’re clearly off kilter as it is it’s clear that it all throws you off even more.

Before Alexia can think about it, she’s beelining straight to Keira.

“What happened on camp?”

Keira is just as thrown off by what is occurring as everyone else.

“England camp?”

It’s clear in the bewilderment in Keira’s face that she’s not understood what Alexia’s asking.

“With y/n, did something happen that nobody knows about?”

The booing finally comes to an end, but it doesn’t change the overall energy in which a whole crowd is sending your way.

“She was fine all camp, being an idiot with grace and beth and being her usual self. All the other games she was fine, and then after the Spain game, after the red card, she’s just been acting different. It’s like G at Man City all over again.”

Alexia understands everything that Keira’s saying, until the last sentence. Her English is pretty good, hger understanding is almost perfect, speaking less so but the last few words completely surpass her level of interpretation.

“G? Man City?”

Alexia notices you in the corner of her eye doing shooting practice, every time you miss and echo of cheers erupts.

“Georgia? Stanway? A couple of years ago, when she was young she got a stupid red card, it wasn’t pretty not dissimilar to the challenge on Aitana. Big mess with the media, got some really nasty messages.”

She doesn’t remember the moment itself, but she does remember reading something about it a couple of years ago.

“Gracias.”

You’re red hot with rage already, the crowd has you amped up. When Pere questions you in the locker room about your state of mind, you are quite literally in a blinding fury. It the kind of sadness fueled anger, youa re literally ripping apart at the seams and instead of actually feeling all of the innate anguish you are experiencing you turn it into anger.

“Why the fuck did you go to Pere and tell him I wasn’t ready to play.”

The tunnel is the only time you’ve been able to talk to Alexia, she’d been so held up with the pep talk, then talking to Pere, then giving inspiration to everybody else. But now that you have the opportunity you can’t ignore it.

Alexia’s eyes are ahead, you’re stuck standing behind her but she can hear you perfectly clear.

“After the game.”

It had taken enough effort for you to convince Pere that you were fine. You were begging for a starting spot that you didn’t even want, a spot that is actually making you feel sick to your stomach. It’s the doubt though, you doubted yourself in that stupid tackle that got you the card, so if you doubted yourself what was to stop everybody else from doubting you?

“No, what makes you think that you can talk to our coach about my game fitness without even talking to me? Do you have any respect for me at all?”

Alexia turns around, and it makes you feel slightly validated and slightly less like you’re about to punch her in the head.

“It’s not about your fitness.”

The punching in the head feeling returns pretty quickly.

“Not about my fitness? What the fuck else is it then? Just because I don’t act like a dickhead on the bus and decide to take a nap?”

Alexia gives you on final look before turning around, the look on her face only adds to your sickeningly consuming anger.

You go onto the pitch angry, which isn’t good for anything. Every time the ball lands at your feet, boos echo out. Every time you get tackled, which is fairly frequently because the opposition has chosen you as the punching bag for the game, cheers erupt. The game is easy enough, 90 percent of possession is with Barcelona, with you spot in the midfield the ball comes to you every few seconds. It’s mostly fine, for the first ten or so minutes. Until the tackles start to get rougher, and you’re mad, and the crowd is loud and everything feels so incredibly wrong.

It’s working you up at a fast rate, then the ball lands at your feet for the 50th time in the match already, and without even looking up at your defender, who three seconds before was standing right in front of you, her studs are placing themselves directly into your calf. It’s not a comfortable feeling, to put it lightly. You manage to clear the ball before you’re on your back, clutching at your leg and trying your best to breathe as the crowd cries out, your opponent mutters something aggressively in spanish and your teammates argue with the referee.

It’s all too much. Your just angry, and upset. Not even at your defender or at the tackle, just at all of it. You think in a roundabout way that this is all karma, that this is your punishment for whatever you did to anger everyone and yourself. You’re tired and fed up and want it all to go away.

You want to sink into the grass of the pitch and just disappear, it would make your life so much easier if in this moment you could just disappear and not face any of the stuff that is happening.

Then there are hands on you and you’re reminded that it’s nowhere near that easy.

“Estas bien? Necesitas la medica?”

You force yourself to stand up, push through, get it over with. You need to prove everybody wrong.

Whether you can see it or not, you are spinning out. Everybody else can see it, you’re frantic, timid and shaken. Patri is the one to put her hands on your shoulders and steady you before you try to return to play.

“You need to go off.”

Twenty minutes have passed, you aren’t going to force a sub when it is unnecessary.

“I’m fine.”

Patri shakes her head, in the same way Irene or Marta would when they are being tough.

“You are not okay, and you need to go off before something worse than that happens.”

You shake Patri off, and when she tries to come back you give her a shove.

“I’m fucking fine. I know when I can and cannot play.”

Like every other attempt that’s been made to try and stop you, she just frowns and walks away. The ref gives you a once over before allowing the game to return to play.

It’s not fine, nothing is fine. Your defender continuously gets away with dangerous tackles that should be continous yellow cards, the crowd is getting to you with every passing second. By gods grace three goals are scored in a few minutes, not only does it silence the opposition it puts you at ease a little bit. For the most part, you’re doing okay, or as okay as possible.

Until it gets to a corner.

There is two minutes of stoppage time, which have well and truly been used up. The corner is going to be the last play and it’s impact is not super important but the pressure is still there. You end up sandwiched between the two centre backs, and for whatever reason when the boot releases off of Patri’s foot from the corner instead of running to make room like you’re supposed to, you are yanked directly to the ground, with two boots stepping directly onto your legs.

It’s not agony, it’s definitely not good but you’re spending more time trying to not cry and collect air then focusing on everything else.

You can’t breathe, and you physically can’t stop the sob that leaves your mouth, it’s pathetic but it’s been building and you can’t stop it.

You don’t bother with listening to the call, or letting your teammates help you up or worrying about the play. The whistle has blown and you have one mission, to go anywhere away from people. You force yourself to stand up even though your back hurts from falling flat on it and your thighs hurt from being stomped on, and walk off.

Pere and the bench are still waiting in the dug out, normally you’d hug or talk or anything but right now the only thing on your mind is getting away, because if you don’t then what is now only tears is going to turn into a full panic attack. You’re working simply off of pure instinct, you have the shutters on and the only thing you are focusing on is your end goal and getting there. When you get to the changing rooms it’s empty, you bee line straight through to the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall before you actually let yourself think beyond the orders that have been set out in your mind.

Like everyone had said, you aren’t ready. You are living with the knowledge that because of your actions, your stupid actions you are being given a spot and opportunity that you didn’t deserve, you got it purely based off of the fact that you injured one of your teammates. Now you can’t even live up to the expectation of being a replacement.

The feeling that was initially what you had thought to be anxiety sickness builds up and all of a sudden you’re grateful your in the bathroom because within a couple of seconds you are kneeled on the floor letting your whole stomach contents out. It’s not a good feeling, you’ve been slowly descending towards rock bottom for days now but you’ve come to the realisation that this is it, this is your lowest point. Every time you think about the pitch you subsequently think about the crowd which leads you to think about everything happening inside your phone and then the sick feeling is back full force. The you think about Aitana, her ankle, her spot, her training, everything. All of that combined and all you can do is cry, it’s the only emotional outlet that you have enough energy for. You’d love to be able to punch something or throw something but you don’t have the energy, you’re running off of no sleep, hardly any food and now the fatigue of playing a half of football.

“Chica, can you open the door?”

Truthfully there are not many people you want to see in this moment or really ever again but Alexia might be at the top of the list. You’d been a little bit star struck when you’d gotten to Barcelona, you were an up and coming and to be on a roster with the best midfielders in the world was something you were in awe of. You were still slightly in awe of the fact that you were sharing a bench with two ballon d’or winners.

“I’m fine.”

You force yourself to stay as silent as possible even though it’s hard with the constant sobs building up inside of your chest.

“Please open the door.”

You’re at rock bottom and even if you try to swim out you’re going to need some help at some stage you suppose.

As soon as you open the door there is a resounding gasp, you close your eyes to keep a little bit of your inner peace whilst Alexia steps into the stall and locks the door behind her. There is just enough room for her to squeeze down on the floor next to you so she does without any hesitation.

“I don’t need you telling me that you were right to question me playing and that it was a bad idea, I’m already aware.”

You’re not sore from the match and yet everything hurts, you actually feel like your limbs are slowly being ripped off of your body and everything is being split open.

“I wasn’t going to say that, I was going to ask if you’re okay.”

It’s a complicated question.

“Physically yes.”

Your eyes are still closed, if you look at Alexia then suddenly this all becomes a whole lot more real.

“Mentally, emotionally?”

Just the question is enough to essentially demuzzle you, everything you were doing to stop yourself from crying out fails, and you start sobbing, in the loudest and ugliest way possible.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Alexia bunches up jext to you, slings an arm around your shoulders and brings you in closer.

“Don’t apologise when you didn’t do anything wrong, even if everyone else is making it seem like you did.”

Deep down you do believe you did something wrong, you don’t exactly know what but you must have, you must have done something because why else would all of this have happened.

“I hurt Aitana, I took her spot, I sabotaged her.”

The crying is cathartic, you’ve been crying for days but in an unemotionally detached way to expel some of the depression instead of actually feeling it.

“No you didn’t. You mis-timed a tackle that ended in a very minor injury. Football is a game of injuries, it happens. I don’t care what you’ve read online or what you’ve heard, the facts are simple. Anyone on our team or the england team can tell you that. Nobody blames you for what happened, not even Aitana. So you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

It’s easier to blame yourself you think.

“Everybody hates me, all I’m getting are messages about how I deserve to die and how people wish I’m never able to have kids or that I get injured as payback.”

Alexia’s deep breath makes you feel queasy all over again.

“What we’re going to do is delete all of your social media apps for the next few weeks, nothing is going to make people stop being putas, si? So for your own sake you’re going to delete all of them, turn all of your comments off, turn your messages off. There is nothing more important then your peace of mind, once that’s gone then this happens. You deserve better than this, you deserve to feel better than this. You also deserve to have fun and enjoy being a part of this team, nobody thinks you sabotaged Aitana, nobody blames you. You are just as welcome here as you were before the break, you are just as valued here as you were before the break. This stupid situation is not worth your health, si?”

You wipe away some of your tears, even though they’re still coming and nod.

“You deserve better, and until people realise that we need to focus on making sure that you know that.”

You feel specifically worthless, and it’s completely your own doing.

“Now, we need to get up before my legs go to sleep and my old body is stuck on the floor in here. Not everybody has young bones like you kids.”

You flush whatever parts of your stomach decided they wanted to resurface and force yourself to stand up, but as you do so the realisation that you are midway through a match comes back and all off a sudden you feel the need to sit down again.

“I told Pere to take you off for the rest of the game, I was coming off anyway, managing minutes. You can get dressed or shower, or do whatever you need to do and then we’lltalk a bit more about how we can turn this around. I’m serious when I say that the main focus is you right now and supporting you.”

You ignore the fact that nothing was ever mentioned about Alexia managing minutes and just accept that it’s a pointless argument and you don’t exactly mind her company right now. It’s nice to know that there is somebody shining a light for you at the end of the tunnel.

[pelova4president]

My treat II

sugarmommies!Ingrid x Frido x sugarbaby!Reader

My treat I

summary~ The two footballers invite you into their home and offer you a proposal. You take their proposal with both hands.

!warnings! 18+ making out, fingering, oral sex, a lot of hickeys and dirty talk. not proof read.

You stood infront of their front door. It was chilly. Too chilly to be wearing the dress you were. The short navy dress didn’t cover the goosebumps appearing on your thighs and arms. You looked ahead of you, their house was huge.

Their house was abstract and modern. Classy, like the women.

Just as you wanted to make your arrival known the door opened. Ingrid stood there before you. She had a loose burgundy dress on that showed her figure perfectly. You were mesmerised by her presence.

“Would you like to come in, or do you want to keep staring out in the cold?” Ingrid grinned.

She held the door open as you stepped inside. The footballer took your jacket out of your hands and led you to their living room. “Frido will be here in a sec, make yourself at home.” She kissed your cheek before disappearing.

You looked around the room. It was spacious and modern, like the outside. But the inside had a little more character, it was warmer. Plants and lights adorned the space. There hung a large painting of a woman above their fireplace. The painting was red, passionate and vulgar, it was bold. It was the total opposite of you. But somehow you felt attracted to the art.

Hands made their way to your hips as a head was placed in the crook of your neck. “Do you like it?” she asked, that’s definitely Frido.

“hm, it’s really beautiful.” you said softly. The blonde hummed, pleased with your answer.

“You look beautiful.” she whispered, you could feel the vibrations of her words on your skin. you had to suppress your smile at that.

“Getting started without me Rolfö?” Ingrid walked into the warm room.

Fridolina took her head off your shoulder and turned but she didn’t take her hands off of you. “I wouldn’t dare.” she replied, a large grin sporting her face

Ingrid hummed at that and offered you a drink. They turned on a soft song that could be heard in every corner of the house. “You’ve got a really gorgeous house.” you complimented them.

“Thank you love, Frido designed it.” Ingrid winked as she handed you your drink.

“What can i say, i have good taste.” Fridolina said confidently, with that same smirk on her face.

You were contemplating on asking the women a question you’ve been wanting to know since you met them. And you don’t know what kind of confidence spurt entered your body but the question rolled from your tongue before you could stop it. “So what are you guys? Girlfriends? And what do you even want from me?”

Okay in your head it sounded a little less mean. ‘What do you even want from me’? why would you say it like that.

“Oh she’s got an attitude.” Frido laughed.

Ingrid didn’t think it was that funny. “I get that you’re curious but you can ask that politely.”

There was a silence that followed, even the music in the background couldn’t save you from this. Redness overtook your face. She expected you to ask her again, politely. “Why are you interested in me?” you asked embarrassed.

“Good girl, thank you. Fridolina and i are partners, yes. And although we love each other, we miss something.” Ingrid spoke.

“And that’s why we are interested in you. You’re sweet, pretty, shy and may i even say submissive. You are what we are missing, a pretty girl to go home to after a hard game.” Frido continued.

Ingrid nodded “Frido and i are both pretty dominant, we both want to take charge of a pretty girl like you. You’re a student, you need money and we can offer you that in exchange for your time.”

You looked at the dark haired woman infront of you, she was casually sipping on her glass of wine like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you. “Uh.. so you want me to sleep with you in exchange for money?” you asked them.

“No, not only sex darling. We would like to take you out on dates, vacations and other outings. This would be more than only a sexual relationship.” Frido said as she walked behind you.

She turned your kitchen stool and titled your head upwards. “Would you like a little sneak peak of whats to come, hm?” the only thing you could do was nod.

“Say it.” Frido demanded.

“Yes please.” you told her. She attacked your lips. She was more fiery this time. She was hungry. Her lips were rough on your neck as she traveled lower.

Ingrid walked around the kitchen island and made her presence known by taking your head into her hands. She pressed her lips to yours. Her lips were soft on yours. She tasted sweet, like the perfume she wore.

“Hmm, you like how rough Frido is, love?” you groan at Ingrid’s words.

Your eyes were shut, enjoying the feeling of lips on your neck. Dark red patches or dominance were left along your collarbone.

And then you felt nothing but the soft sting of those patches. You opened your eyes to see a literal breath taking sight infront of you. It was as if the women took the air out of the room. Ingrid and Frido were making out infront of you.

You could hear Ingrid moan as her girlfriend bit on her lip. Ingrid’s hands tangled themselves in blonde hair. It was a sight for sore eyes.

Although you loved watching the women, you felt a bit left out. The desperate whine that left your mouth caused the women to break the kiss.

"Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" Frido teased you. Ingrid's pupils were blown, she wanted you just as much as you wanted them.

"It's unfair, you keep teasing me." you groaned at the women.

Even Ingrid had to surpress her laughter at that. They had been teasing you all night, waiting on a reaction. They wanted to have you begging for them at the end of the night. "Tell us what you want and maybe we'll give it to you, hm?" Ingrid smirked.

"I want you both." you told them with begging eyes. But by looking at their faces you knew they wanted to hear more. "... please?"

"Hm, do you think she deserves it?" Frido asked her girlfriend. They acted like you weren't right infront of them and you were eating it up.

"As much as i like to see her desparate and begging, i need more of her." Ingrid looked right into your eyes as she said the last part.

The footballer led you to the large sofa where she pushed you down. Her lips attacked yours and her hands fled to push the top of your dress down. Her warm kisses traveled to your neck and shoulders. "God, i've wanted you since i saw you at that interview." she whispered.

Rolfö took your head in her hands, kissing you hard and long. "You're fucking perfect." she said against your lips.

You were beyond hot and bothered, you were desparate for more. "Please, need more." you whispered against Frido.

Ingrid's mouth latched onto your nipple, her mouth was soft and warm. She hiked the hem of your dress up, her knee sliding in between your legs and pressing up against your clothed pussy.

The blonde kissed along your jaw up to your hot and red ears. As Frido bit in your sensitive ear, Ingrid's fingers pressed down on your clit. It was as if they were in sync.

Ingrid couldn't tease you much longer, she had to have you. They could play this teasing game another time. Her hand dipped into your lace panties. Her fingers were welcomed by wetness. You were soaked.

"God, Frido you have to see this. Did you get this turned on by our teasing, love?" Ingrid held up her fingers, sticky with your juices. The woman moved her fingers towards her girlfriend's mouth and without saying anything Frido took her fingers into her mouth.

The image of Frido, hair messed up by your needy hands, lips red and swollen, tasting you off of her lover's fingers. You moaned as Ingrid moved her hand back to your pussy and started making out with Frido.

A finger entered you and your head fell back. long fingers found a home in your hair and lips returned to your ear. "Let Ingrid make you feel good, darling." her words were hot and her tone heavy. They made you go insane.

When Ingrid slid another finger in and her mouth worked on your clit you couldn't hold your sounds in anymore. "Let us hear you. You sound so fucking hot." Frido said.

You could only nod, not a singular word made it past your lips. "Yeah, you like being fucked dumb by us. You like being used. I promise that this is only the beginning." Frido grabbed your tits, pinching your buds hard. Your back arched off the couch as Ingrid's fingers sped up.

"Yes, just like that. Fuck yourself on her fingers. God, you're perfect." Frido praised you. Ingrid didn't have to do much more to make you cum.

"Fuck. fuck- i'm gonna cum." you moaned out. Your eyebrows were knitted together als the knot in your stomach got tighter. Ingrid sucked harder and you the knot came undone.

Her fingers slowed down as you came down from your high. Ingrid left kisses on the inside of your thighs. "You were so good for us, baby. You did so so good." she placed a soft kiss to your lips.

"We're gonna get you cleaned up, is that okay love?" Frido asked softly, still pampering you with kisses. You felt like you were on cloud nine with these beautiful women caring for you.

You hummed and Frido went to fill their bathtub up. You laid in Ingrid's arms as she praised you.

When Frido came back down she carried you to their bathroom. She washed you with care and sung lullabies as she massaged your scalp.

Ingrid had placed a cup of tea on one of their nightstands and some clean panties and a camisole. Their bed was warm as you crawled into it. The Swede put her arms around you and fell fast asleep.

Her breath evened out as you look up at Ingrid. She has her reading glasses on, the yellow light glowing on her smooth skin. Her brows were furrowed until she looked up from her book and at you. She had caught you staring, again. The corners of her mouth went up. "Get some rest, you're gonna need it, love." she winked.

Although this was new, fiery and wild. Something about it felt fitting. Frido and Ingrid were like the painting, passionate, confident and bold. You felt attracted to them. Maybe they were exactly what you needed.

A.N. I really love the messages in my inbox so thank you for the support. I don't know how i'm gonna continue this and what i'll write about next. But we'll see, if the right idea comes i'll probably write another part.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Never Have I Ever

Barca Femaní x Teen Reader

The bright lights of the makeshift studio were starting to give you a headache, but the end was in sight. Media day. A necessary evil, as your coach called it. Hours of posing, smiling, answering repetitive questions, and generally trying to look like you weren't about to collapse from boredom. But this, the final task, was different. This was the fun part.

You, Jana, and Patri were standing shoulder to shoulder, each holding a light-up paddle. The paddles were programmed to cycle through different colours – red "I haven't" and green "I have" - the task was simple Never Have I Ever. A classic icebreaker, but with the added element of flashing lights and the potential for some embarrassing revelations.

The camera crew stood before you, along with a couple of team media personnel, all grinning with anticipation. One of the media guys, a young, energetic guy named Marco , held a microphone and a clipboard.

"D'acord, senyores," Marco said, his voice amplified by the microphone. "A punt per jugar una mica Mai ho he mai?"

Jana bounced on the balls of her feet, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Nascut llest!"

Patri gave a small, polite smile. "Fem-ho."

You nodded, trying to suppress a grin. You were usually quite reserved, especially for a teenager but there was something about the silly nature of the game that loosened you up.

"Vale, I'll start," Marco said, consulting his clipboard. "Never have I ever… accidentally called my coach 'Mama' or 'papa'."

Jana's paddle immediately flashed green. She groaned and covered her face with her hands. "ay dios mío, it was awful," she said, laughing. "It was during training, and I was so tired, and I just blurted out 'papa!' He just stared at me, and I wanted the ground to swallow me whole."

Patri’s paddle remained red, as did yours. You’d always been careful to keep your interactions with the coach strictly professional.

"Vale, next one," Marc continued. "Never have I ever… snuck out of team curfew."

Jana’s paddle flashed green again, eliciting more laughter from the crew. "Vale, Vale, I was young and foolish," she admitted, raising her hands in surrender. "It was just to go get ice cream! It was worth it."

Patri’s paddle stayed red, and you hesitated for a moment before pressing the red button on your own paddle. You’d never been one for breaking rules, even now as the other younger girls tried to entice you.

"Muy bien, Y/n, estás despierto," Marco said, turning to you with a smile. "Never have I ever… forgotten my kit bag for a match."

Your paddle flashed green immediately. You winced, remembering the frantic scramble to borrow spare kit from a teammate just minutes before kickoff. It had been a stressful experience, and one you’d never forget. It was your first time playing at a more senior level at La Misa and the older girls kit nearly swallowed you whole.

Jana and Patri both laughed, their paddles red. "Oh, that's a classic," Jana said.

The game continued, with Marc reading out a mix of team-related and more general "Never Have I Ever" statements. Some of the questions were funny, some were slightly embarrassing, and some were surprisingly revealing.

"Never have I ever… cried after a loss," Marco read.

All three of your paddles flashed green. You all shared a knowing glance. The pain of defeat was something you all understood intimately.

"Never have I ever… pretended to be injured to get out of training," Marco said, grinning.

Jana’s paddle flashed green instantly. Patri and you burst out laughing. "That's definitely Jana," Patri said, shaking her head.

Your paddle and Patri’s stayed red. You were both too dedicated to the sport to ever consider faking an injury. Your idolies wouldn't do it so why would you.

As the game went on, you started to feel more comfortable, more relaxed. You were laughing and joking with Jana and Patri, sharing stories and making fun of each other. The tension of media day had completely dissipated, replaced by a genuine sense of camaraderie.

Finally, Marco announced the last question. "This is a big one," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Never have I ever… had a crush on a teammate."

Jana’s paddle flashed green immediately, followed shortly by Patri’s. You hesitated for a moment, a strange feeling fluttering in your stomach. You glanced at Jana and Patri, who were both looking at you expectantly. You took a deep breath and pressed the green button on your paddle.

A collective gasp went up from the crew. Jana and Patri’s eyes widened in surprise.

"Ooooh," Marco said, his voice full of intrigue. "This is getting interesting. Care to elaborate, Y/n?"

You felt your cheeks flush slightly, but you managed a small smile. "It's nothing serious," you said, shrugging. "Just a little…admiración"

Jana winked at you. "We've all been there," she said, laughing.

The game ended shortly after, and the camera crew began packing up their equipment. You, Jana, and Patri lingered for a moment, still buzzing from the fun of the game.

From the moment you left the makeshift studio, the “crush” revelation became the team’s new favorite topic of conversation. It wasn’t malicious pestering, more like playful teasing and genuine curiosity, but it was relentless.

In the changing room after training, Jana would nudge you with her elbow and whisper, “So, spill the tea! Who is it?” Her eyes would twinkle with mischief as she waited for your reaction.

You’d blush and try to deflect the question, saying things like, “It’s no one important,” or “It was a long time ago.” But Jana wouldn’t give up easily. She’d launch into a guessing game, rattling off the names of various teammates, coaches, even the team’s physio.

You hope it stays between the three of you, you admition to having a crush on a teammate but of course its Jana and Patri and that hope is short lived.

The speed at which the news spread was almost comical. It was like wildfire, fueled by the team’s insatiable appetite for gossip. Within an hour, it seemed every single member of the squad knew about your “little admiración.” You could practically feel the collective gaze of the team on you, a mixture of amusement, curiosity, and knowing smiles.

It wasn't long before Mapi, the team’s resident prankster and self-proclaimed expert on all things love and romance, cornered you in the locker room. She bounced on the balls of her feet, a wide grin plastered across her face.

“So,” she began, nudging you playfully with her elbow. “Tell me everything! Who’s the lucky lady?”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Mapi, please,” you mumbled. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Mapi exclaimed, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Are you kidding? This is huge! This is the kind of drama we live for!”

She launched into a series of rapid-fire questions, rattling off names of various teammates, coaches, even the team’s groundskeeper. You tried your best to deflect her inquiries, offering vague answers and changing the subject whenever possible.

“Come on, Y/n,” Mapi persisted, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Just give me a hint. Is she tall? Short? Does she have a good sense of humor? Is she a good passer?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her relentless questioning. Mapi was like a dog with a bone; she wouldn’t let go until she got what she wanted.

Just as you were about to give in and offer a meaningless clue to appease her, Ingrid, the team’s captain and voice of reason, appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She placed a hand on Mapi’s shoulder, pulling her away from you.

“Mapi,” Ingrid said firmly, her voice laced with a hint of warning. “Leave her alone.”

Mapi groaned dramatically, but she reluctantly backed off. “Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I’m not giving up that easily.”

Ingrid turned to you, offering a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about her,” she said. “She’s just being Mapi.”

You nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Ingrid,” you said. “I appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” Ingrid replied. “Just let me know if she gets too annoying.”

But shortly after Mapi it moves to Esme and Vicky.

Esme and Vicky, the team’s dynamic duo, were next. They approached you during lunch, sliding into the seats opposite you with matching mischievous grins. They were known for their close friendship and shared sense of humor, often finishing each other’s sentences and communicating through inside jokes.

“So, Y/n,” Esme began, her eyes twinkling. “We’ve heard some… interesting rumors.”

Vicky nodded in agreement, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Something about a certain… teammate?”

You sighed, bracing yourself for another round of questioning. “It’s just a silly crush,” you mumbled, picking at your food. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, we beg to differ,” Esme said, exchanging a knowing glance with Vicky. “This is major news! We need details!”

They launched into their own version of the guessing game, their rapid-fire questions overlapping and intertwining. They were like a well-oiled machine, anticipating each other’s thoughts and building on each other’s jokes.

“Is it someone in the midfield?” Esme asked.

“Or maybe a forward?” Vicky suggested.

“Perhaps a defender?” Esme countered.

“Or maybe,” Vicky said, pausing for dramatic effect, “it’s the coach!”

You choked on your water, sputtering and coughing. Esme and Vicky burst out laughing, their eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Okay, okay, we’re just kidding,” Esme said, patting you on the back. “But seriously, Y/n, we’re just curious. We want to know who’s captured your heart.”

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. You trusted Esme and Vicky, but you were still hesitant to share such a personal detail.

“It’s… someone I admire,” you said finally, choosing your words carefully. “Someone who’s really talented and dedicated.”

Esme and Vicky exchanged another knowing glance. “That narrows it down to about half the team,” Vicky said dryly.

“But seriously,” Esme added, her voice softening. “We’re just happy for you, Y/n. We want you to be happy.”

“Thanks,” you said, offering them a genuine smile. “I appreciate that.”

You thought you’d weathered the storm. The relentless teasing had subsided, replaced by the occasional knowing glance or subtle nudge. You’d even started to relax a little, believing the “crush” saga was finally behind you. But you were wrong. So very wrong.

The team bonding night was a tradition, a chance for everyone to let loose and have some fun outside of the pressures of training and matches. This time, it was a casual gathering at a local karaoke bar. The atmosphere was buzzing with energy, fueled by loud music, flashing lights, and the general excitement of being off-duty.

You were initially hesitant to go, still reeling from the media day fallout. But Jana and Patri had insisted, assuring you that it would be a good time and that the “crush” topic was officially off-limits. You reluctantly agreed, hoping they were right.

For the first few hours, everything went smoothly. You laughed and sang along to the music, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and the company of your teammates. You even managed to belt out a surprisingly decent rendition of a classic pop song, much to the amusement of Jana and Patri.

But as the night wore on and the drinks flowed, the atmosphere became more boisterous and the conversations more… revealing. And, inevitably, the topic of your “admiración” resurfaced.

It started innocently enough. Someone put on a cheesy love song, and a few of the players started jokingly serenading each other. Then, Mapi, never one to let a good opportunity pass her by, grabbed the microphone and announced to the entire bar, “Okay, everyone, let’s dedicate this next song to Y/n and their secret crush!”

A chorus of cheers and whistles erupted from the team. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You shot a pleading look at Jana and Patri, but they just shrugged apologetically, their faces etched with a mixture of amusement and sympathy.

Mapi, oblivious to your discomfort, continued her impromptu dedication, adding fuel to the fire with a series of suggestive comments and playful innuendos. The team roared with laughter, egging her on.

You wanted to disappear, to become invisible, to escape the intense scrutiny of the entire team. You felt trapped, exposed, your privacy completely violated.

Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, Esme and Vicky, fueled by liquid courage and a shared sense of mischief, decided to take the stage for a duet. They chose a popular love song and, as they sang, they began pointing and gesturing towards various members of the team, adding their own commentary and inside jokes.

Still you don't crack not until Alexia comes and wraps her arm around you.

So,” she said, a playful glint in her eyes. “I hear you have a little… admiración for someone.”

You blushed furiously, but you couldn’t help but smile at her teasing tone.

“It’s not a crush,” you mumbled, shaking your head slightly. “It’s more like… respect. I really admire her talent and dedication.”

“Oh, I see,” Alexia said, nodding thoughtfully. “So, it’s not someone on the team?”

You shook your head again, relieved to finally be able to talk about it openly, even if it was with Alexia, which was still incredibly nerve-wracking. “No,” you said. “She plays… out of Spain, actually.”

Alexia’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, really?” she said. “That’s interesting.”

She paused for a moment, considering your words. Then, a slow smile spread across her face. “Well,” she said, her voice warm and encouraging. “Admiration is a wonderful thing. It can inspire you to be better, to push yourself further.”

You feel your cheeks reden, you can't hide it anymore and the fact your about to tell her ex girlfriend is ironic "Its Jenni."

“Jenni,” Alexia repeated, the name rolling off her tongue. Her tone was even, giving nothing away. “Jenni Hermoso?”

You nodded, your cheeks burning a deeper shade of red. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on you. You were confessing your admiration for Jenni Hermoso, a player widely considered one of the best in the world, to her ex-girlfriend. The universe definitely had a sense of humor.

A brief silence hung between you, punctuated only by the off-key singing from the stage and the general chatter of the bar. Alexia’s arm remained around your shoulders, a comforting weight, but the atmosphere had subtly shifted.

“She’s… a fantastic player,” Alexia said finally, her voice measured. “Incredibly talented.”

You nodded again, finding your voice. “She is,” you agreed, your voice filled with genuine admiration. “I’ve watched her play for years. Her technique, her vision… it’s inspiring.”

You found yourself rambling slightly, trying to fill the awkward silence. You talked about Jenni’s incredible goal-scoring record, her ability to create chances for her teammates, her influence on the game. You were so focused on avoiding any mention of the personal connection between Alexia and Jenni that you almost forgot who you were talking to.

You pause waiting for Alexia to shout at you for having a crush on her ex girlfriend but instead she tilts her head back and laughs "Oh Mi Amor, Im so telling her next time i see her thats so cute."

You shove her away slightly but immediatly pull her back as she whips out her phone and starts typing, out of everyone Alexia just might be the worst person you could have told.

[nelove22]

throughs on my team at the moment, my friends? 😁

enjoying a lot to play with!

[helen-with-an-a]

 Operation Christmas Kiss

Barça Femeni x Reader ; Keira Walsh x Reader

Description: The team come up with a plan to get Keira and R to confess before Christmas

Word Count: 3k

“So, what’s everyone doing for Christmas?” Alexia asked, taking a sip from her drink.

You sat back, watching the others as they told you their Christmas plans. Naturally, your eyes lingered on Keira. Keira … the girl you had been in love with for well over half your life.

You couldn’t help but smile as she laughed at something Aitana had said, her eyes sparkling. You sighed despite yourself. Keira … the girl had been your first kiss all those years ago. ‘Practice … for when we’re older’ you had said. It had been the Christmas camp for the Young Lionesses, and everyone was swapping stories of their first kisses, first loves, first times. You were barely sixteen, but the peer pressure had been a lot. You had made up some bullshit about a girl at school. You had confessed the truth to Keira that night. She had just smiled at you and offered to kiss you. Simple and just like that. Nothing too fancy, nothing crazy, just a friendly gesture. You ignored the butterflies then and you had continued to ignore them. Every brush of her hand against your skin when you partner up, every lingering hug or gentle touch as you moved around your small flat in perfect harmony.

“What about you, chica?” Patri asked, nudging you back to the table.

“Oh um, nothing really.” You smiled, taking a bite from the snacks on the table.

“Nothing?” Mapí repeated.

“Yeah, I’m not doing anything. My parents are-”

You started to explain how you didn’t do anything special at Christmas. You never had. You parents had been forced to go to Church and do all the family stuff when they were growing up and they had hated every minute of it. When they finally branched out on their own, Christmas was just a normal day. Sure, you always had a few presents and a nicer meal, but it was never the spectacle that it was for everyone else. Your parents had agreed to fly over to Barcelona this Christmas, arguing that it was about time they had a hot holiday. The best flights they could get was Christmas Day, and that suited you just fine. They would land around midday, and you would spend a few days with them, relishing in the quiet as the rest of the world gorged themselves on overpriced, dry meat they had spent far too long slaving away over in the kitchen. And then your parents would be off again, arguing that they didn’t want to ruin your New Years’ plans and that they would much rather be lounging on a pool bed in Tenerife rather than you cramped flat anyways.

“Do you not want to spend Christmas with them?” Pina asked quietly, her voice a little nervous.

“No, it’s not like th-” You could see the looks people were sharing. The sad pitying looks that meant they thought you didn’t spend Christmas with your family for a very different reason.

“It’s okay, amiga. We understand,” Marta smiled kindly.

“It’s not-” you tried again. You loved your parents, and they loved you. You had no issue with them, and as far as you were aware, they had no issues with you. You knew some others around the table had had issues with their parents, especially when they were teens and trying to figure out their sexuality. But for you, it was never like that. You had never actually ‘come out’ to your parents. You had just brought a girl home when you first moved to Manchester and introduced them to your new girlfriend. No one had batted an eye.

“Vamos, chica, I need el baño and then we shall get another drink, sí?” Ona asked, standing up from her seat, extending her hand to you.

“Uhh, sure … ok…” You let yourself get dragged away by Ona, unable to catch Keira’s eye.

“Ok, we need to do something for la niña. She cannot spend Christmas alone.” Mapí started, her eyes narrowing as she came up with her plan.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to do anything for Christmas, kjære?”

“That is absoluta mierda, Princesa.” Mapí dismissed Ingrid with a wave of her hand. “Everyone wants to do something for Christmas.” Ingrid sighed, shaking her head. She knew her girlfriend, if Mapí had a plan, the plan would be happening regardless of what anyone else said.

It took maybe 10 minutes for a plan to be concocted. A plan that Keira was not too happy about. She had tried, she had tried so hard to get the team to see that there really was no issues, no larger problem at hand that led you to not really ‘doing’ Christmas. You always had been like that. She didn’t do traditional Christmas herself – her family opting for an Indian instead. A habit they had picked up from you. You were 13 when you met, 14 when she had begged her parents to let her spend the holidays with you, and 15 when you spent your first Christmas at the Walsh household.

Her parents had fussed and stressed over the catering for months, you had both watched them bring up Christmas when you visited every school holiday. It had been a throwaway comment really, a joke that you would be happy with an Indian for all you cared. You could see the look they gave you, a curious, intrigued look. ‘Christmas is about family, right? You don’t have to add the stress on top of it. If you want to do a roast, go ahead, but we just do whatever we fancy. Last year it was a roast because Kei was with us, but usually it’s something way more chilled. I think we had picky bits once’. The look on Mrs Walsh’s face was one that you would remember forever. The look of pure and utter relief that someone else had said it. That you had said it. From that Christmas on, there was no more burned potatoes or overcooked turkey. There was an Indian takeaway, dished up with more pride than any carving had ever received.

“Guys, honestly, she doesn’t wan-’

“No, Keira. She needs this.” Mapí wasn’t having any of it.

“She really doesn-” Keira tried again, looking to Lucy for help. Lucy grinned, smiling into her glass as she shrugged.

“Kei,” You shouted, oblivious to the conversation going on at the table. You staggered slightly, flopping heavily onto the ginger’s lap. “Come dance?” You asked, the blush on both of your cheeks having nothing to do with the alcohol.

“I don’t dance, y’know this.” Keira laughed slightly, her arm automatically cradling your waist.

“Please, Kei.” You pulled out your infamous puppy dog eyes, ones you knew she was irresistible to. “For me?” You pouted ever-so-slightly.

“Ugh, fine.” Keira rolled her eyes, unable to help the smile that spread across her lips as you squealed with joy. “The things I do for you,” She grumbled, allowing herself to be pulled across the floor.

“When are they going to realise, they’re head over heels for each other?” Alexia asked, watching you loop your arms around Keira’s neck as her fingers danced with the waistband of your jeans.

“Who?” Vicky asked, trying to follow Alexia’s line of sight.

“Keira and Y/N, estúpida” Pina supplied, pointed to where you and Keira were very much in your own little bubble. The group watched as Keira said something to you, and you dropped your head onto her neck, all sporting smiles as Keira’s fingers traced gentle lines on the sliver of bare skin on your back.

“At least you get a break,” Lucy commented, bringing her arm around Ona’s shoulder. “It was like this at City too, and at camp.”

“Oh god. Do you remember that time when Y/N did her hamstring, and she wasn’t on England camp? It was maybe a week and all I heard from her was ‘Kei this’ and ‘Kei that’.” Ellie chimed in, rolling her eyes at the memory.

You had torn your hamstring a week or so before you were supposed to go away on an England camp. The suddenness of it all had meant you were even more mopey than you would have been normally. Yes, you missed playing, and yes, you weren’t a fan on the rehab. But doing it without Keira to keep your spirits up was too much to handle. She had been by your side from the moment you had sat down on the grass, your face contorting in pain. She had been subbed off a few moments after you and followed you down the tunnel. Keira had driven you home and stayed the night, doting on you hand and foot, acting as you butler, driver and bodyguard until she had to leave for St George’s Park.

When Ellie had picked you up the next morning, you were a vision of sadness. Your hair was sloppily tied up, the blue circles under your eyes more noticeable than ever before. Ellie had taken note of the small 24 printed on both your hoodie and shorts for the whole week.

“God, Kei was no better. ‘I wonder what Y/N’s doing right now?’, ‘Has anyone heard from Y/N?’, ‘I better text her, make sure she’s doing okay’, ‘Oh, sorry I can’t hang out with you, I’m facetiming Y/N’. It was nauseating,” Lucy huffed, taking a swig of her drink.

“Ok, we get it, they’re in love and have been for ages, they just need to get a grip and kiss each other.” Kika laughed, watching her two new friends press themselves closer and closer.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Aitana asked.

“Oh, Kei. I’m so in love with you it hurts.” Patri joked, her eyelids fluttering as you drapped herself over Cata.

“Oh, Y/N/N, me too. I’m just too in my head to do anything about it.” Cata joined in.

“I’m thinking we change our plan. Operation Get Y/N and Keira to Kiss at Christmas is a go.” Mapí turned to the table, bringing out her phone to take notes.

“We may need to shorten the name.” Caro chimed in, a small smile on her face.

“What are they planning?” You asked Keira, your face millimetres from hers.

“They want you to celebrate Christmas.” Keira smiled as you groaned, your head dropping onto her shoulder.

“I am celebrating Christmas, Mum and Dad are flying out on Christmas day.”

“I know that. You know that. They just don’t know that’s how you do Christmas.” Keira pressed a sneaky kiss to your temple. “They want you to spend Christmas with someone, you rescued me before that bit got figured out.”

“No,” you whined. “I love my Christmas plans. A chilled Christmas and then a very fun New Years’ with you.” You couldn’t help the blush that rose on your cheeks when you thought of your New Years’ plans.

“I know you do,” Keira laughed quietly, her cheeks sporting a similar blush. “And it’ll be our first New Years’ together.” You rolled your eyes.

“Stop phrasing it like that. We’ve spent a million New Years’ together.” You complained, shuffling closer, relishing in the feeling of her fingers against your skin.

“No, we haven’t. We have spent 13 together. But this we’ll be our first one as more than just friends.” Keira whispered into your ear.

It was a new development for you and Keira. One that had taken far too long to happen, but over a snowy hot chocolate at the Munich Christmas market when you had flown out to see Georgia, it had happened. It wasn’t really anything epic, nothing like a fairytale. Keira had told you how beautiful you looked, eyes reflecting the lights of the market. You had blushed and told her you thought she looked pretty too. She had pushed some hair off your face, and you were just inches from each other and then suddenly her lips were on yours and you hadn’t looked back since.

You had told your family but beyond that, you were relishing in the privacy of it all. The stolen kisses and quiet declarations were adding to the magic of it all. You knew you needed to tell the team soon, but you were having too much fun watching them moan and groan at each other. You were more than happy to keep it between you to, a perfect little secret to be shared at just the right time.

It was the last home game before the break when Mapí’s plan was finally able to come to light. She had everything planned to perfection. Aitana and Kika were still out on the field with Keira. Ellie and Lucy were signing things for fans and keeping a close eye on you. Alexia was the organiser, the go-between to make sure you would be walking down the tunnel at the same time. Cata was waiting by the locker room door, making sure that no one would stand in the way. Mapí, Patri and Pina were all in the locker room, placing mistletoe at strategic locations across the room. One above the doorway, one above each of your lockers, one by the entrance to the showers and the last one tucked safely next to Mapí’s things, a fail-safe she could wave above you if Plan A, B, C and D fell through.

It was the Man City game, the team knew they had ample time to prepare with how long you and Keira would stay out on the pitch catching up with old friends, but that didn’t help with the nerves. Mapí had even bribed one of the coaches to help. When Alexia gave the signal, a painstakingly crafted but natural movement of taking off her Captain’s armband, the coach would drift over to you, telling your group they needed to come inside for cool down and stretches. At the same time, Carla would beckon Keira over for some media and you would both meet at the top end of the tunnel, ready to walk past the rest of the team and straight into the locker room. Vicky had been chosen to point out the mistletoe if you hadn’t spotted it already. It had originally been Ingrid but that was met with a raised eyebrow and a shake of her head.

“Kjære, are you su-”

“Sí, Ingrid, I am more than sure. It will be un milagro de Navidad.” Mapí waved her girlfriend away, her eyes fixed excitedly on the door.

“- it’ll be nice. I’m glad that Lani and the other Aussies will be able to get back home quickly.” You chatted away to Keira, a City shirt adorning your top half as you pushed your way into the locker room. Pina not-so-subtly came to stand in front of you, stopping you in the doorway.

“You played really well, Chicas.” Pina smiled unnaturally at you.

“Uh, thanks?” You said slowly, although it came out more like a question.

“Sí, muy buen juego” Patri added, her eyes also a bit too wide. You looked towards Keira and back again, you eyes taking in the mistletoe dangling from the ceiling.

“Oh, mira eso. You are standing under muérdago. Ellie, what is muérdago en Inglés?” Vicky called, her voice superficially high.

“Mistletoe, Vicky. It is Mistletoe in English.”

“Ahh, sí. Y/N and Keira are standing under mistletoe.” Vicky’s acting was appalling. You glanced up anyway, smiling at the small spring resting above your heads. “Is the tradition the same in England as it is in España?” Vicky held her hands out in a comical shrug.

“You mean, whoever is caught under the mistletoe has to kiss, otherwise it is bad luck?” Ellie added, her acting equally awful.

“Ah, so it is the same.”

You looked over to Mapí, who was vibrating like a kid about to open their most anticipated present.

“Be … so, be … so, beso, beso, beso” Mapí began to chant, her voice carrying across the room.

You looked to Keira, smiling at her as the small blush bloomed across her cheeks. You shrugged, as if saying ‘I’m down if you are’. She nodded shyly, a smile matching yours. You shuffled a little closer, your hand coming to rest on her cheek.

You leaned in, the world around you fading into the background. Her breath hitched as your faces drew closer, her gaze briefly dropping to your lips before meeting your eyes again. The moment stretched, charged with anticipation, until finally, your lips met in a tender, lingering kiss.

The room exploded with applause, whoops, and whistles. Mapí was the loudest, clapping her hands and shouting, “Eso es! Así se hace!”

As you pulled back, Keira’s shy smile had turned into a full-blown grin, her eyes sparkling with a mix of nerves and exhilaration. “Well,” she said, laughing softly, “guess we’re lucky now.”

“Guess we are.” You stuck your tongue out at her as you moved away to the bathroom.

“So, how was your first kiss with the girl you’ve been in love with since you were 13?” Lucy asked, nudging Keira with her elbow.

“Oh, that wasn’t our first kiss,” Keira smiled up at her friend, her cheeks still lightly stained with pink.

Lucy blinked. “N-not your first kiss?” She spluttered.

“Oh no, I was her first kiss when we were like 16? I think. It was a youth camp, and everyone was saying about their first kiss and she said she hadn’t had one so I kissed her.”

“J-just like that? You kissed her? And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Why would I, Luce? It’s not that deep.” Keira laughed, enjoying the look on Lucy’s face.

“Not … not that deep?” Lucy screeched. “Kei, you’ve been in love with her since you were 13, I have had to listen to you both whine and whine about it all and you’ve already kissed her? Keira, what the fuck?”

“Language, Lucia.” Keira teased, bending over to gather her stuff for the shower.

“H-have you kissed her since you were 16?” Lucy asked, trying to wrap her head around what was going on.

“Of course she has,” You chimed in, kissing Keira swiftly on the cheek. “It would be weird not to kiss your girlfriend.”

[skipper1331]

Little things // Alexia Putellas

headcannons

The little things Alexia and you do while being absolutely in love with one another

car and driving around

Alexia always opens the door for you

She‘s the driver while you‘re the passenger princess

She insists on hearing your playlist, even though you both have a shared playlist (she knows you love your playlist)

you kiss her temple/ cheek at every red light

She’s getting you some flowers in the time you‘re at your appointment (she insists on driving you everywhere)

having a water bottle and snacks in the car, just in case

in the kitchen

Alexia helping you the best she can but ends up admiring you from the bar stool or hugging you from behind as she whispers compliments in your ear

when it’s her turn with cooking, she only cooks things you love

Also she lets you try everything before serving and vice versa

"The chef deserves a kiss now "

She makes sure the table is set perfectly and the atmosphere is tranquil

Dinning with you is very important to her, so she makes sure not to mention work or anything that causes stress, she likes to keep the calm and lovely atmosphere

with her family

having a hand on your thigh under table, also drawing patterns on the back of your hand when you intertwine your fingers

one time, you dropped your fork, so within seconds her hand was covering the corner of the table, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself while picking up the cutlery

She loves the bond you have with her family, even though the mocking and teasing of you and Alba can be a pain in the ass.

Kisses always make up for it

"I‘m going to marry her" she tells her mother

Her family already knows because they can see it in her eyes when she looks at you

And they also know you‘ll say yes because they see the look in your eyes when you look at Alexia

You two are the perfect match

Her mother loves you

Her sister does too

at night

You wear her clothes, she loves the sight

both of you sleep better when you‘re with/next to each other

Alexia always has an arm around you, in the need of protecting you

you cuddle into her, legs tangled together, arms around each other

sometimes she‘s the big spoon and sometimes you are, it depends on the mood

when she can’t sleep, you‘ll scratch her back and she‘s in a slumber in an instant

During off days you‘ll stay up till the early hours, just talking, giggling, stating random facts or debating the newest gossip

soft snores filling the room

Alexia often wakes up before you, though she doesn’t make any signs of leaving the bed before you‘re up

If she has to get up though, she‘ll kiss your forehead and promise to be back soon and wishing you a good day

football

you‘re not a professional footballer (you had to google the rules after Alexia had told you she’s a pro) though she likes to think you are as she puts you in goal when the two of you are training together

'training together' - she begs you to join her training routines, ends up convincing you with kisses

It‘s enough to see her pout

you can’t resist her pout

-

watching random football matches at home

Alexia puts a jersey on the bed before each home game, so you have something to wear for the stadium

'Alexia' and '11' on your back making her heart flutter

Your heart bursts with pride every time you see her walking out of the tunnel

Cheering for her

always in the stadium at home games and at important away games (champions league final, etc)

you‘re her biggest supporter

Alexia makes sure football and you are balanced - she never puts football above you but she‘s still ambitious and always gives 101% to be the best

You‘re always impressed by Alexia, her talent is phenomenal

Alexia enjoys impressing you

-

at first Alexia used to shut you out after a lost match

over time she learns to let her guard down

you make her feel loved and appreciated

She can let her walls down around you and likes to think that it‘s okay to be vulnerable sometimes (you assure her that it always is)

after won matches only happy things happen; nice dates, kisses, relaxed evening, etc

the achievement jar

One evening, after Alexia had scored two goals and an assist, you brought up the idea

It‘s been in the back of your mind since awhile but only now the mini marble footballs had arrived

won game? One marble in the jar

Alexia scored a goal? one marble

Alexia scored two goals? two marbles

Alexia assisted a goal ? one marble

won trophy? three marbles in the jar

and so on

when the jar‘s filled Alexia gets a big big surprise. Such as special days with massages, literally anything to show her how proud you were and how much she deserved

Yes, you still had date nights which were also special but the achievement-appreciation-days were just a tiny bit more special

Alexia loves it

So do you

your job

Alexia supports you on every step of the way to your dream job

After a long and exhausting day, Alexia hugs you, runs you a bath, anything that makes you feel relaxed and appreciated

She‘s your date to any work event (vice versa)

Alexia has all of your (important) meetings and appointments in her calendar

If you have to study, Alexia makes sure not to bother/distract you yet also always making sure that you stay hydrated and take some breaks

future

Both of you have your future planned together

Alexia dreams of marrying you, she has the ring hidden in her football drawer because she knows you‘d never look there

You talked about getting a dog, both of you really liking the thought. You just couldn’t agree on which breed (yet)

private proposal

wedding just like you dreamt of as a kid

happy tears spilling out of your eyes as you see each other for the first time

best day of your life

amazing honeymoon

Both of you never taking of your rings

Alexia taping it for her matches

her new celebration is to kiss her ring after scoring

kids, if you want them

The future bright and welcoming as you continue to share the perfect marriage

you‘ll never stop loving each other

[mapiforpresident]

The Secret Folder

Alexia x reader

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of your shared apartment as you lounged on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on Alexia’s phone. She’d handed it over to you earlier to look at a video her sister Alba had sent, but after you finished, curiosity got the better of you.

“Do you have any cute pictures of Nala?” you called out. Alexia, who was in the kitchen making a smoothie, gave a distracted hum of agreement.

“Should be a whole album,” she said without looking back.

Grinning, you navigated to her photos app, and sure enough, there was an album dedicated to Nala. You scrolled through the pictures, laughing at a particularly funny one where the dog’s ears were sticking up in opposite directions.

But then something caught your eye—a folder labeled with a single emoji: 🔒.

It wasn’t in her usual style to use something so cryptic, and your curiosity piqued instantly.

“Lex, what’s this?” you asked, holding the phone up as you clicked on the folder.

“Wait—what?” she said, her tone suddenly sharp as she spun around, eyes wide with alarm.

You blinked as the folder opened, revealing at least 100 videos—TikTok edits. Specifically, TikTok edits of you.

The first one that auto-played was set to a dramatic song, showing a montage of your highlights from the season.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth as you stared at the screen.

Alexia rushed over, smoothie forgotten on the counter. “No, no, no! You weren’t supposed to see that!”

You could barely breathe, both from shock and the overwhelming urge to laugh. “Are these all…?”

“Stop!” she groaned, snatching at the phone, but you held it out of her reach.

“Alexia Putellas,” you said dramatically, standing up as you began scrolling through the folder. “You have a whole folder of TikTok edits of me?!”

Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red as she crossed her arms, glaring at you in sheer embarrassment. “It’s not what it looks like!”

You raised an eyebrow, playing another video. This one was a compilation of your funniest moments during training, overlaid with the caption like when she’s funny and hot.

“Lex,” you teased, biting back a laugh, “this definitely looks like what it looks like.”

“I thought I had a lock on that folder!” she muttered, covering her face with her hands.

You grinned, loving how flustered she was. “Do you, like, watch these when I’m not home? Or when you’re bored? Is this what you’re doing on long flights?”

“Stop,” she whined, but her lips were twitching, betraying the smile she was trying to suppress.

You leaned in, lowering your voice in mock seriousness. “Be honest. Which one’s your favorite?”

She groaned again, grabbing a throw pillow and burying her face in it.

Your teasing softened as you set the phone down and wrapped your arms around her. “Lex, this is actually really sweet,” you said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Sweet?” she mumbled into the pillow, peeking up at you with one eye.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “It’s nice to know you’re just as obsessed with me as I am with you.”

That made her laugh, finally lowering the pillow. “I’m not obsessed. I just… like seeing you. You make me proud.”

Your heart melted at her words, and you kissed her properly, pouring all your affection into the gesture. When you pulled back, her cheeks were still pink, but her embarrassment seemed to have eased slightl.

“For the record,” you said with a grin, “I’m totally telling Mapi about this.”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned. But you did and Mapi teased her about it every single day, and sent her a few to add to her collection.

~~~

Leave a tip here. Not required at all and I still will write requests without it, but they are greatly appreciated and these requests are guaranteed in 2-3 days.

[meazalykov]

mystery

barcelona femeni x lena oberdorf x reader

the team finds out about your potential relationship at the same time as everyone else

the chill of december bites at your skin as you step off the plane, a light fog of condensation forming with each exhale. 

cairo airport is filled with activity, a stark contrast to the quiet ache in your chest from leaving barcelona behind for the break. everyone else scattered to their families..alexia to her parents, mapi to her sisters.. ingrid tagging along with mapi.

however, you made a different choice. you texted lena as soon as the winter schedule was released, your fingers shaking with equal parts nerves and excitement as you hit send. her response had been almost immediate: 

yes, come to me.

the cab ride to the german resort in egypt feels longer than it is, the traffic weaving around you in a rhythm you can’t quite predict. your mind drifts to her…how her voice sounded over the phone just the night before, soft and inviting despite her latest recovery session. 

you remember the way she laughed when you told her you’d packed her favorite chocolate from spain, calling you “extra” with a playful tease. 

when you finally step into the lobby, obi is already waiting with lea. she stands near the entrance, her dark shirt hanging loosely on her body, her hair tied back in a simple ponytail. 

obi’s eyes light up the second they meet yours, a warmth there that makes the entire journey feel worth it. she doesn’t move right away..her lips curl into that familiar smile, the one that always tugs at something deep inside your chest, and then she steps forward. 

“you’re here,” she says, as if she needs to convince herself this isn’t just another late-night call or grainy video chat. 

“i’m here,” you echo, your voice quieter, carrying all the weight of missing her and finally seeing her again. 

she pulls you into her arms before you can say anything else, her grip firm but tender, as though she’s afraid you might disappear if she holds too tightly. the scent of her shampoo..something citrusy and sharp..mixes with the faint chill on her skin, and you close your eyes, melting into the familiarity of her embrace. 

obi’s hands trace soothing lines along your lower back, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades. it’s just you and her, breathing each other in.

“you must be exhausted,” she says when she pulls back slightly, her hands still resting on your shoulders. obi’s eyes scan your face like she’s memorizing every detail all over again. 

“i’ve had worse travel days,” you joke, but lena shakes her head, her lips quirking in mild disapproval. 

“you never let me take care of you,” she mutters, almost to herself, before lacing her fingers with yours and tugging you toward the elevator. 

“no hey for me?” lea jokes. 

“how could i forget about my favorite person here!” you laugh, pulling lea into a tight hug.

“hey!” lena says which gets a good laugh out of lea and you.

the ride up to obi’s room is quiet, save for the faint hum of holiday music filtering through the speakers. lena leans against the wall, her thumb absently brushing over your knuckles. 

you don’t say much..it’s a comfortable silence, the kind that comes with knowing someone so intimately that words aren’t always necessary. 

once inside the room, lena drops her small bag near the small table and immediately turns to you. she’s always been like this…direct, unguarded when it’s just the two of you. she steps closer, her hands finding your cheeks, her thumbs brushing lightly over your skin. 

“you’re really here,” she whispers, and this time it sounds more like a confession, a quiet marvel at the reality of it. 

“of course i am,” you reply, your voice steady even though your heart is racing under her gaze. 

“you think i’d spend with anyone else?” 

obi’s smile softens, and she presses a kiss to your forehead before resting her own against it. 

“you have no idea how much i’ve missed you.”

you think you do. you’ve felt it in every passing day since the last time she came to barcelona to see you, when you had to say goodbye in the quiet of your apartment, neither of you wanting to let go. you feel it now, in the way her hands linger on you like she’s trying to make up for lost time. 

“probably as much as i’ve missed you,” you say, and it earns you that laugh…the low, melodic one that makes your chest feel impossibly full. 

“impossible,” she teases, before finally pulling away just enough to guide you to the bed. 

you lay down cuddling with her for a brief moment before you have to go outside for more activities. the both of you talk lightly, just discussing things that maybe you guys didn’t on the phone. 

she mentions lea and kathi’s terrible jokes during her recovery sessions. there’s a tenderness in her voice whenever she talks about her friends, and you’re grateful her friends has been there for her during the times you couldn’t be since you played in barcelona. 

after a night out, where lena djs with her friends while you just sit with lea by the bars in support.. you feel the exhaustion from the trip begin to creep in, but lena seems to notice before you can say anything. 

she nudges you gently, her arm wrapping around your shoulders as she takes you back to your shared hotel room. 

“sleep,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. 

“i will still be here, i am just going to the bathroom to get unready.” 

maybe five minutes later.. you feel yourself getting pulled into her arms, in this secret little world you’ve built together in egypt while the time lasts. 

throughout the next week in egypt felt like a dream. the kind of dream you never wanted to wake up from or escape. you and lena spent days exploring, stealing moments for yourselves, surrounded by her closest friends. 

the most thrilling part of it all? riding dune buggies across the sprawling sands. the powerful machines roared as you navigated the uneven terrain, the wind whipping against your face as lena rode beside you, grinning like a kid who just found her favorite candy.

somewhere in the golden expanse of the desert, lea insisted on capturing photos of everyone. lena was her usual reluctant self, but you? you were feeling the sun on your skin, the freedom in the air. 

when lea aimed the camera your way, she didn’t even have to ask you to stand still when you started walking so you had your own individual pictures. 

the timing of the pictures couldn’t have been more perfect..your hair moved gently in the breeze, and the sunlight painted your skin with a radiant glow, setting you apart from the vast golden orange backdrop of sand. 

“oh wow this one’s stunning,” lea grinned, showing the screen to lena first. obi’s eyes lingered on the image a moment longer than necessary, a small, almost imperceptible smile pulling at her lips before she nodded.

“you’re posting that, right?” lena asked, her tone teasing but edged with sincerity. 

you did. how could you not? it was the kind of picture that didn’t come around often. within minutes, your feed was getting notifications. 

what you didn’t expect was for some eagle eyed fans to piece together that lena and lea had posted stories from the exact same desert in the same hour. while neither of them appeared in your photo, the connection was made…three high-profile football players in the same place, at the same time?

the internet was quick to notice. 

still, everything was manageable. until lena, in true lena fashion, decided to break the silence. obi’s comment on your post was simple, direct: 

hot

that one word sent shockwaves through your notifications. 

suddenly, the noise grew louder. fans were scrambling for answers, dissecting every post and interaction…or lack thereof. you and lena had never made a habit of commenting on each other’s photos, not publicly, at least. 

sure, you liked her posts, and she liked yours, but it was subtle. this? this was anything but subtle. you were not mad at lena, in fact, you kind of enjoyed that people were starting to know about this.

the first text came late that night. your phone buzzed on the nightstand as you lay beside lena, who was lazily scrolling through her own notifications. 

ingrid. 

ingrid: what are you doing in egypt with obi? 

ingrid: nothing wrong! i didn’t think that you guys even knew of each other

you stared at the screen for a moment, debating your response. lena noticed, leaning over to catch a glimpse of her old wolfsburg teammate texting you. 

“are you going to answer her?” she asked, her voice calm but curious. 

“not yet,” you murmured, locking the phone and setting it back down. lena chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips before tossing your phone to the side.

the texts didn’t stop there. by morning, your phone was flooded…alexia, salma, frido, ewa. all of them had the same question: 

alexia: what's going on? 

ewa: i see you guys 😏😏 

salma: so what are you doing in egypttt!??? 😏😏🤨

fridolina: since when did you and obi start dating? 

later, lena posted her slideshow on instagram. a collection of moments from the trip since its your last day here: the sunset over the desert, the group at dinner, her in the pool. 

however, it was the last photo that threw everything into chaos. the picture was taken by the dj booth, all of you in one frame. lea stood between phil and fridolin, and lena stood on fridolin’s other side. 

there you were, at the end, lena’s arm draped comfortably around your shoulders, your head leaning against hers. 

the comments exploded. 

HELLO???

wait… are they together?! 

obi and y/n?? since when?? 

HOW DID WE NOT SEE THIS COMING?!

THE HARD LAUNCH OKAYYY

lena smirked at the influx of attention, but you could feel the tension brewing in your phone as it buzzed relentlessly on the table. by now, the barcelona group chat was probably in flames. 

you could picture alexia starting her own mini investigation, salma and frido laughing at the absurdity, and ewa typing out a flurry of messages just to be nosey about her old teammate and new teammate being together. 

“they’re not going to let this go, you know,” lena said, her tone light as she scrolled through her own growing list of missed calls and texts from her bayern teammates like kathi, tuva, and georgia. 

“i know,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. 

“but we’ll figure it out when we get back. you to munich, me to barcelona.”

lena smiled, pulling you closer. 

“as long as i have my beautiful sexy girlfriend, then i am okay.” 

you giggled. 

back in barcelona, a week after you and obi left egypt.. the locker room is quiet as you push the door open, though the quiet feels almost… staged. 

your footsteps echo slightly as you step in, and the moment you glance up, you realize why. every single one of your teammates is staring at you, arms crossed, smirks plastered across their faces like they’ve been waiting for this exact moment.

“so,” vicky starts, leaning against her locker with the kind of casual confidence that spells trouble. 

“how was egypt with your new girlfriend?”

you roll your eyes, already regretting every decision that led to this. 

“good morning to you too,” you mutter, heading straight for your locker, hoping and praying that they’ll let it slide. 

they won’t.

salma snickers as she moves to sit beside your locker, her grin way too wide. 

“you’re not even going to deny it, are you?”

“what’s there to deny?” you sigh, pulling off your hoodie and grabbing your training shirt. your hands move a little quicker than usual, like if you’re dressed fast enough, they might lose interest. 

they don’t.

“what’s there to deny?” ewa repeats, feigning shock. 

“you’ve been secretly dating obi, and you think we’re just going to let that slide without asking questions?”

you groan internally but keep your face calm, pulling your shirt over your head and starting on your socks. 

“it’s not a secret anymore, is it?” you reply, your tone steady, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

“how long?” ewa presses, leaning forward. 

“and don’t even think about lying.”

you glance up at her, then at the rest of the team, who are all waiting, some sitting on the benches, others leaning against lockers, every single one of them focused on you.

 alexia, standing near the door, raises an eyebrow as if to say, you might as well tell them.

“four months,” you say finally, your voice even. 

the reaction is instant. gasps, laughter, and a mix of disbelief ripple through the room.

“four months?” frido exclaims. 

“and you didn’t tell anyone? not even us?”

“i told esmee,” you admit, earning a collective groan from the group.

esmee turns her head away from the team, hoping to not become the center of the teasing since she didn’t spill your secret. 

salma throws her hands up dramatically. 

“esmee doesn’t count. she’s your best friend here.”

you shake your head, tying your laces as you prepare for the next wave of teasing. 

“obi and i wanted to keep it private for a while,” you explain, keeping your voice calm despite the heat rising to your cheeks. 

“it’s long-distance. clearly since she plays at bayern. we wanted to make sure it worked before people started asking questions or… making assumptions.”

that quiets them for a moment, and alexia nods slightly, her expression softening. 

“that makes sense,” she says, her tone understanding. 

“it’s a lot of pressure, especially with both of you playing in different places.”

you give her a small, grateful smile before aitana pipes up. 

“but you’re terrible at keeping secrets, you know that, right?” 

the whole room erupts in laughter, and even you can’t help but join in. 

“apparently,” you admit, grabbing your water bottle and heading toward the door. 

“hey, for what it’s worth,” vicky calls out as you reach the exit, 

“you make a cute couple. but don’t think this means we’re done teasing you.” 

you roll your eyes but grin despite yourself. 

“i wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

masterlist

[dafterdarling]

wrong colours // aitana bonmati

aitana bonmati x madrid/england!reader

warnings: slightly suggestive? kissing/heavy petting

summary: aitana shows up to training wearing the wrong sweatshirt

word count: 1167

Aitana was organised or at least she liked to believe she was and to her credit you thought she was... most of the time. This morning not being one of these times- you had just played against Barcelona the previous day and to no ones surprise lost but still Aitana insisted you come to her apartment and spend the night-

"Come- I make it up to you?" Aitana whispered in broken English in a more secluded corner of the long Camp Nou corridor.

You shrugged, "I don't know..." You were feeling pretty down after getting battered in front of thousands of Barcelona fans.

"Please?" She pulls on the sleeve of your white coat and you're suddenly disarmed up her looking up at you with pleading eyes.

So after a brief team meeting after the game, you turn down any invitations from your teammates about going over the game or getting food. Instead, you find yourself waiting on a street corner waiting for Aitana to pick you up.

After finding you, Aitana drives the two of you to her apartment where you relax on her nice sofa eating the pasta with salmon that she had meal planned the previous day.

It's nice when you get to do this- which isn't often since the distance and the fact that your relationship isn't exactly public knowledge make it difficult. But when it happens you couldn't be happier with her leaning against you and your arm around her shoulders as she narrates whatever is playing on the TV since you don't know Catalan.

You sigh when Aitana leans into you, "You play good." She whispers lowly and you smile slightly at the admittance.

Aitana is known to dislike Real Madrid so each compliment comes as a small reward.

"Thanks, baby but no one plays better than you." You lean down to pinch her side and she lets out a small yelp before jumping on you in retaliation.

She tries to grab you're hands as you tickle her before she finally pins your hands to your sides as she straddles you on the sofa. You smirk and lean forwards to kiss her but she turns her head before you can reach her lips and then sticks out her tongue.

"Please?" You try to plead with her slightly, pretending to thrash against her grip even though you and her knew that you could easily overpower her.

Aitana laughs before leaning down and kissing you slowly, her hands slipping off your wrists to hold your face. With your hands now free, you bring her closer until you're chest to chest with your strong arms around her waist while you deepen the kiss.

"Bedroom-" You say between heated kisses and she nods, so you slowly get up off the sofa still kissing her- your hands now in the back of her sweatpants, palming her ass making her moan lightly into your mouth

You suddenly break away to look at Aitana. She's a vision and if you could you would take a photo, her hair is slightly mused and lips red from kissing you. Mouth open as she tries to catch her breath and shirt uncovering her stomach from where you had lifted it.

You grab her hand and lead her to the bedroom you know so well by now.

And that's how you ended up with this morning. Aitana rushing around the apartment trying to gather her training things while you still lay in bed.

"Can't they have given you a day off?" You croak out, voice deep with sleep still.

Aitana slides across the bedroom floor in her socks as she picks up a black training top from the floor-

"I work hard- no break." She explains as she slips the top on then shoves her shoes on before looking at you. You're shirtless in her bed scrolling through your emails when you catch her looking, you glace at the clock on your phone; 8:30 AM.

"You're gonna be late, love." You smirk at her from the comfort of her sheets.

"Don't want you slacking on that hard work now, do we?"

Aitana jumps on you and you laugh before kissing her goodbye then giving her ass a light slap as she rolls out of bed to make her way to training.

After a little while you hear a accented goodbye and the door slam, leaving you alone.

Meanwhile, Aitana was frantically driving to training and she eventually made it to training on time- gathering her things out of the car before making her way to breakfast where everyone was already sitting and eating in groups.

She makes a beeline for the food, taking her usual breakfast before joining Mapi and Ingrid.

Mapi whistles lowly at her and Aitana is not amused as she'd normally be, "Rough night?" She jokes as she takes in Aitana's rushed appearance.

Ingrid elbows her and Mapi immediately snaps her mouth shut, "You okay, Aitana?" Ingrid smiles at her kindly.

"Si." Aitana replies shortly and then looks around, feeling as though everyone is staring at her for some reason.

She shovels another spoon full of breakfast into her mouth before asking in Catalan, "Is there something on my face?"

Mapi giggles slightly, "On your face, no, but that is a bold choice of jumper.... I didn't know you were a fan."

Aitana furrows her brows and looks at her top, the white Real Madrid logo is fully visible against the black of the jumper and she immediately spits out the water she had in her mouth.

This could not be happening, she had sworn that was a Barca logo when she looked in the mirror this morning.

Her hand goes to cover the logo before ripping the top off completely- only to reveal the England training shirt you had been wearing in her apartment the night before.

Aitana's face is so red she looks like she might explode and Ingrid reaches out to comfort her as Mapi laughs her ass off.

"It's okay.. they always have spare kits."

As if it could get any worse, Lucy spots the bring colour of the shirt, clearly recognising it.

"I didn't know you were English, Tana!" She teases from the table next to theirs.

"I-No..." Aitana tries to explain but eventually just accepts her fate and eats her breakfast with Mapi laughing under her breath and Lucy guessing which Lioness she was sleeping with.

"Oh! It's Y/N!" Lucy suddenly yelled and Aitana blushed furiously at your name, suddenly getting up and walking to the changing rooms.

She changes into the spare kits the management keeps and wishes she could start the day again.

The teasing continues throughout the whole day and by the end of it, Aitana is sure that the whole team knows that the two of you are dating.

When she later lets you know on the phone as you make your way back to Madrid, all you can do is laugh and tell her you love her.

[pedriache]

Cariño 𖦹 Aitana Bonmatí !

Summary: Though your relationship with Aitana was not known to the public, as your girlfriend was a private person—that would soon end. How? Well, she wants to bring you to the Ballon D’or ceremony with her.

Word count: 700+

Disclaimer/s: Fluff! wuh luh wuh ONLY.

bea speaks, this is my gf if u even gaf.

Aitana’s fingers lazily trailed along your back, dipping into the crevice of your spine. Stopping at the top, he drew shapes you couldn’t decipher, yet you enjoyed the feeling nonetheless.

“Would you come with me next week?” She asked, her voice soft yet serious.

You stilled beneath her touch, her words lingering in the air. Turning onto your side, you searched her face, finding only the certainty in her warm eyes. She even held the smallest of smiles, further reassuring you.

“Me?” You question, voice barely above a whisper—almost breathless.

She nods, her hands still pressed into your back, thumbs rubbing you gently. “Yes, you. I want you with me, beside me. Always.”

Her words were heavy and meaningful, but her gaze was full of warmth, grounding you. Blinking quickly, you recover your senses. When your stammering heart slowly calmed down, a smile breaks out onto your face.

“Okay.” You nod, “I’ll be there.” Aitana smiles, her hand running up the rest of your back till she cupped the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair. She pulls your face to hers and places a soft kiss to your lips as her way of silently saying, ‘thank you.’

When the day came, you stood in front of the mirror nervously. You were supposed to be leaving in a few minutes. Your heart raced in your chest as you smoothed the satin folds of your dress. The asymmetrical neckline framed your collarbone perfectly. The small slit that ran up your leg just enough to toe the line between bold and elegant and the matching gloves only added to that.

Bending down, you adjust the strap of your stiletto heel, glancing up to the mirror and nervously staring back at your reflection.

“Cariño?” Aitana called softly, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You turn to see her leaning against the doorframe, her black dress hugging her figure perfectly. The sheer top glittered in the closets lighting. Her eyes roamed over you, drinking in the sight just as you were doing to her.

The sight of your girlfriend was.. breathtaking. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, your fingers tingling to touch her.

“You look beautiful.” She murmurs, stepping into the large closet and closing the distance.

You shake your head lightly, a small smile forming on your lips. “And you are.. breathtaking, as always.”

Exhaling shakily, you laugh. “I feel like I’m going to trip out there.”

Aitana chuckles, her hands finding your waist as she looked into your eyes. “If you trip, I’ll catch you. And if I can’t do that.. I’ll trip with you. We can make headlines together. How does that sound?”

Though her words were teasing, you laugh anyways. Your tension melting away as she pressed a small kiss to your cheek. The kiss left a small print, to which Aitana lifted her ring finger to lightly rub it until it blended in with your blush.

“Shall we?”

The lights were almost blinding and the crowd was a blend of motions and sound. Aitana’s hand on your lower back was grounding as the two of you walked in sync. Nerves rattled your entire body as you struggled to maintain your composure.

Cameras flashed and photographers called out for Aitana’s attention the closer you two got. She paused mid-step before you were to make your official appearance, turning to glance at you. A smile tugged at her lips, the same smile she’d given you all those nights ago when she’d asked you to come.

“Mi amor..” She whispered under her breath, “you’re going to be fine.”

You swallow the lump that was building in your throat. Leaning into her touch, she guides you onto the carpet. A smile breaks through your tight expression as you feel her thumb beginning to press slow circles into the back of your dress, just enough so that you could feel the soothing gesture.

“Deep breaths.” She reminds you, her other hand coming up to fix a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. She smiles again, her eyes flickers around your face before she looks ahead and leads you into the cameras line of sight.

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future aitana posts.

ᝰ.�� tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @spidybaby @joaoflms @sakashq @h4vertzz

[alexiasleftoversalmon]

Brb sobbing, this is SO CUTE 😭❤️💙