Golden Key To The Sweet Life + Part 2 -> The Taste of Victory - Hand-me-downs - Good News - Growing Pains - Sweet Creature - Root of All Evil - i owe it to you - world is yours
Our Sun Is Setting - Part 2
Kissing a Fool
We're All We Need Today
I'm a Star, How Could I Not Shine?
When We Two Parted - Who Falls in Love in November?
The Love You Have is Better Spent in Some Other Place
Hii, I loved your new fic, they're so sweet!! May I ask you what you're studying? I'm studying Early Childhood Education and am currently learning the things they discussed in the fic for my pedagogical psychology exam, haha. The only thing missing is an Alexia who cooks for me, cuddles me and helps me to calm down, lol. Sending you love 🫶
appreciate that 🫶🏼
studying psychology ! one of my classes this semester was developmental which i found vvv interesting. then child psychology in general is something i find v interesting but also it can be a bit too heartbreaking for me to go into a career for lolol
hope your studies are going well and best wishes for your exams!! sending you love too 🫶🏼
a certain not-so-nervy-anymore spaniard, whose english has somewhat improved, shows up for you right when you expect it least and want it most. (just 6k of utterly soft domesticity)
The words on the page had ceased making sense about an hour ago. And now, they were just black ink bleeding into the white glare of your laptop screen, a blur of developmental psychology terms that seemed to mock your rising panic.
You dragged both hands down your face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you saw static; desperate to shut out the reality of how little you were retaining.
The apartment was suffocatingly quiet. A dead silence that only ever accumulated during exam season, broken by the barely there noise off the kitchen appliances and the frantic tapping of your own foot against the table leg.
You glanced at your lifeless phone. No notifications still, despite sending a text forty minutes ago that’d had your heart guiltily thumping against your ribs ever since.
(You)
I’m so sorry, Ale. I can’t make it tonight. My brain is completely fried, I still have three chapters to get through, and I’m just a total mess. I’m so, so sorry to ruin our plans.
And below it, the little blue ticks to confirm she’d read it.
No reply at all. Not even a quick ‘no worries’ or anything.
A fresh wave of anxiety, somehow bigger than each one before it, washed over you. It crashed right into your stomach, leaving you with a nauseating pit that made it a little more difficult to breathe. You groaned, slumping forward until your forehead hit the cool wood of the coffee table, right next to a scattered pile of papers and highlighter pens.
You couldn’t even blame her.
It was supposed to be a real date. A reservation at a restaurant she’d been on the waiting list for for weeks, a proper night together away from your university exam revision and her grueling football schedule. She’d been so excited about it, her eyes lighting up when she told you she’d finally secured a table, and you had just stomped all over it.
A perfect night ruined because you couldn’t balance your own life.
Fucking idiot, you muttered to yourself, the silence of the flat swallowing the curse whole.
Things were still incredibly new. You’d only officially been her girlfriend for a month. You were still in that beautiful, slightly fragile phase where you wanted to be perfect for her, where every shared look still made your stomach flip.
Yet here you were, screwing things up already. Showing her exactly how chaotic and unreliable you were.
Why would a two-time Ballon d’Or winner want to deal with someone who couldn’t even manage a basic university timetable?
You forced yourself back up, a dull throbbing beginning in your temples as you stared miserabley at a paragraph on cognitive milestones.
Except, the guilt made it impossible to focus. The words just continued to blur until they were a grey smudge on the screen.
All that was running through your mind was the image of Alexia in the midst of getting ready – maybe standing in front of a mirror, dressed up and putting in her hoop earrings, checking her phone only to find your pathetic message.
You could practically see the disappointment dropping over her face, the way she’d probably sigh, take her earrings back out, change into sweatpants. Annoyed at wasting her time dressing up for someone that couldn’t even get through their University work.
The thought made your throat tighten all over again, frustration burning behind your eyes. But you quickly blinked it away, angry at yourself for being so emotional.
You reached blindly for your coffee mug, only to find it bone-dry, the dark ring at the bottom completely cold. Great. Even your caffeine had given up on you now.
You were just about to stand up, to wander aimlessly to the kettle just for something to do that wasn’t going square-eyed staring at your laptop for so long, when a knock echoed from the front door.
Your foot stopped its tapping as you froze. And the knock came again.
Your mind couldn’t quite process the math of it as you walked toward the entryway, your socks sliding slightly on the wooden floorboards. You unlocked the deadbolt, pulled the door open, and the breath caught in your throat.
You stared at the figure before you, completely paralysed, your hand grasped around the edge of the wood as your eyes mapped the person standing in your doorway.
It was Alexia.
But not the version of her your guilt-ridden brain had spent the last forty-five minutes torturing you with.
She was dressed in a matching grey Nike hoodie and joggers, casual but still effortlessly clean. Her hair – clearly freshly washed and freshly straightened - was pulled into a quick loose bun, a few stray pieces framing her face.
Her makeup was minimal but polished, the soft tint on her lips and the liner that sat above her mascara-coated lashes showing she had definitely taken the time to get ready for you tonight.
And nestled right against the line of her jaw, were the silver hoop earrings you’d envisioned her tearing out in frustration. She hadn’t taken them out at all.
Your attention dropped down, taking in her hands. A delicate watch on one wrist, a couple rings decorating her fingers, and a plastic bag from the local supermarket bursting to the brim in her arms.
“What…” Your voice was thick, cracking around the syllable as you gripped the door a little tighter. You swallowed hard, trying to force your brain to catch up with your eyes. “What are you doing here, Alexia?”
The brunette didn’t look angry. Nor did she look disappointed.
Instead, an awfully warm grin broke across her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes as she took in your messy attire and the sheer unfiltered panic radiating off you. She shifted the weight of the shopping bag in her arms, her head tilting slightly to the side.
“Hola, guapa,” She beamed, her Spanish accent heavy but comforting. “You no go to restaurant, so the restaurant go to you.”
The lightheartedness of it, the ease, only made the knot in your chest twist painfully. You shook your head, stepping back a bit but not letting her in just yet, your hand lifting to rub at your temple where a stress headache was definitely firmly embedding itself.
“Ale, no, you don’t understand,” You whispered, voice dangerously wobbly. “I can’t. The exam is in three days. I still have three massive chapters to go over again, and… I’m just an absolute mess. I’m… I can’t be a good girlfriend tonight.”
Her easy grin faltered, her lips turning downwards and her eyebrows knitting together into a deep, almost comical frown. She looked at you as if you’d just said the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard in her life.
“Qué?” She said, her head jerking back a little. She adjusted the bag against her hip, refusing to let you push her away with your panic. When she spoke again, her voice was firm, her broken English coming out with a fierce and protective cadence. “You no good girlfriend? What is this?”
She stepped closer, forcing you to look at her, her eyes flashing with a mix of stubbornness and overwhelming affection.
“Being good girlfriend is no about… going to fancy place, wear nice outfit, makeup,” Alexia argued, stumbling a little over the words, but pushing through with absolute determination. She tilted her head further, her gaze softening more as she took in your wilted posture. “You are stressed. Your brain is… loud. My job is be here. I am good girlfriend when you are happy, and I am more good girlfriend when you are a mess. Entiendes?”
The bluntness of her declaration, delivering in that earnest accented lilt, struck you directly in the chest. It caused a hot blush to creep up your neck, warming your cheeks even as the threatening tears from earlier finally spilled over your eyelashes.
“Ale…” You breathed, a watery helpless sound escaping you.
“No, no ‘Ale,’” she countered, though her comically stern expression completely cracked at the sight of your tears. Her eyes melted into something incredibly tender, a low sigh escaping her. “You.. you are stupid.”
You blinked through your emotion, caught off-guard.
“That’s… that’s not very nice.” You whispered, the sentence cracking completely as a tiny tearful laugh hitched in your throat.
An amused but apologetic smile took over her face. “Lo siento. Perdón.”
She didn’t wait for your permission this time; she gently nudged her shoulder against yours, stepping past you and into the quiet of your apartment towards the kitchen.
She set the bag down on the counter with a thud. But didn’t start unpacking. Instead, she turned around and walked right back to where you were standing by the now closed door.
Then, she closed the distance between you, stepping into your space until there was nowhere else you could look but at her. She reached out, her hands landing to rest gently on your hips, and her thumbs began to stroke slow soothing circles over your shirt.
“Tell me,” She started in a quiet tone, head dropping as she tried to catch your downcast eyes. “What is wrong? Where this come from, hm?”
It was the softest voice you had ever heard her use. The low timber of her accent wrapped around you like a blanket, completely stripping away whatever remaining defenses you had.
Your bottom lip quivered, and you quickly looked away, staring hard at the zipper of her grey hoodie because looking at her face was simply too dangerous.
“I’m just stressed, Ale,” you mumbled, barely above a whisper. “My head is spinning. I can’t focus on… on anything.”
“Is only exam stress?” She asked softly, her thumbs never stopping their steady motion against your hips. She nudged her head lower, trying to coax your gaze back up. “Only University? Or something more?”
Another blush took over as you gathered the honest answer together.
“No, it’s… we’re still so new,” You admitted dejectedly. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes still glued to her zip. “We’ve only been together a month. I… don’t want you to see me like this. A disaster.”
Alexia let out a hummed breath, her grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly.
“A disaster?” She repeated, her tone teasing but still terribly gentle.
“Yes.” You muttered, a tear escaping and tracing a path down your cheek. “I don’t like anyone seeing me like this. I like to be the– the organised one. I try to have my life together. But instead you’re here looking perfect for a date and I’m just crying on my own in my apartment whilst studying.”
A tut escaped Alexia before she could stop it, a single disappointed, or disbelieving, click of her tongue. She let go of one of your hips and her hand travelled up your arm to carefully cradle your cheek. Her thumb caught the tear before it could reach your jaw, her skin warm and palm slightly calloused.
“Look at me, please.” She whispered.
You hesitated, but the quiet command in her voice was impossible to resist.
Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet hers. Her expression was devoid of the amusement from earlier; it was just pure sincerity.
“I no like hearing this,” She said. “You think I only want you… when you perfect? When everything easy? No.” She shook her head as a small line appeared between her brows. “I know you work hard. I see it, I see how much you care. This– this is you, too. And I want all you. You stressed, you crying. Everything.”
Your heart skipped every other beat in a way that surely wasn't healthy, the rapid thumping of it echoing right up into your throat. It was impossible to comprehend how someone could look at you at your absolute worst and say something so effortlessly heavy, so entirely grounding.
You didn't know what to reply. Your brain, completely fried from hours of staring at cognitive development models, couldn't formulate a proper, poetic response.
Instead, you just swallowed past the lump in your throat and offered a tentative, “If you say so.”
“Oye,” Alexia murmured instantly, the single word sharp enough to catch you by surprise. Her thumb gave a reassuring swipe against your cheekbone, ensuring you kept your eyes locked onto hers.
“I do,” She said, her gaze steady, intense, and utterly unwavering. “I say so. You…” She stopped, taking a deep, determined breath in, her chest rising against yours as she gathered her English words together. “...you no choice but to agree. Yes?”
A breathless giggle slipped past your lips.
The sheer stubbornness of her, the competitive and unyielding spirit of Alexia Putellas being pointed entirely at making you feel loved – was ridiculous in the best possible way.
You let your head nod just once. And her face lit up with that beaming grin that completely creased her glinting eyes again.
“Perfecta.” She declared, her hand sliding down from your cheek to rest back on your hip, giving you a playful squeeze. “So, I stay. I make you feel better, I cook dinner. And, most important, I keep you smiling.”
The warmth in your chest was such a fire it was almost dizzying. You couldn’t help but smile, a genuine one this time, even as you decided to tease her just a little bit more to keep your own emotions from boiling over again.
“I also don’t have a choice in any of these things, either?” You joked, raising an eyebrow.
Her grin widened, her chest puffing out slightly with playful authority.
“No,” She said, leaning in a fraction closer. “Ab– ab… ab-so-luty not.”
She stumbled over the syllables, but she didn’t even care, looking incredibly proud of her attempt anyway and how it elicited another laugh from you. The sheer fondness in her eyes made you feel like you were soaring.
And before you could say anything in reply, she leaned in. Her hands left your hips and slid up your neck to cradle both your cheeks. Her palms were warm still, her touch soft as she gently angled your head up, tilting her own to meet you.
The kiss she gave you was slow, gently, but deeply telling. It wasn’t rushed or demanding; it was a grounding press of her lips against yours that seemed to carry the full weight of everything she had just promised. You let your eyes drift shut, your hands instinctively coming up to rest against her wrists as you melted into the solid comfort of her presence.
When she pulled back, she didn’t go far. She kept her hands cradling your face, her thumbs moving in a similar way as they did earlier as she rested her forehead against yours.
“I like spend time with you.” She whispered. “In… in any way. It no have to be… glamorous.”
She paused and frowned.
“...glamorous?”
A quiet giggled escaped you at the pronunciation, the endearing lilt of her accent wrapping around the word, but you nodded against her hands. “Yeah. Glamorous is perfect, Ale.”
She smiled, reassured, and continued. “It no have to be glamorous. It can just be us, in joggers, home-cooked dinner. Your University work everywhere in the room. I just want you happy, bebé.”
You released a shaky breath, the last remnants of your exam anxiety evaporating into the space between you. You reached up, placing your hands over hers where they still held your face.
“I am,” You murmured, eyes locking onto hers. “I am happy whenever I’m with you.”
Alexia’s expression softened into a beautiful little smile. “Good.”
Then, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you into her chest, wrapping you in a tight protective hug.
You didn’t hesitate in burying your face into the soft cotton of her hoodie and following suit in wrapping your arms around her waist. You allowed yourself to completely relax against her, breathing in the scent of her perfume that took you right back to your first date with her.
And as the silence stretched, the apartment finally feeling peaceful instead of suffocating, a sudden memory of the days prior to that first date flickered in your mind, and a teasing smirk began to pull at your lips.
You slowly pulled back just enough to look at her.
“You know,” You began, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve got really good at English for those journalists, haven’t you?”
Alexia’s head dropped back as she let out a loud dramatic groan, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling. But she couldn’t keep a serious face for long. As soon as you started laughing, she cracked, and a bright chuckle rattled her chest.
“Shut up.” She grumbled, her hand dropping to your hip to give you a cheeky pinch in retaliation.
Afterwards, she caught your hand, fingers intertwining with your to lock them together.
“Come on,” She said, giving it a gentle tug as she began to back up, leading you out the hallway and into the lounge.
The room was still cast in darkness aside from the corner lamp and your laptop, which threw long shadows across the paperwork scattered over the coffee table. The brunette walked over to the sofa and sank back into the cushions with a content sigh.
You stood by the edge of the couch for a second, hesitating, before Alexia tapped the couch between her parted knees.
“Sit,” She instructed softly. “You no can study if your body is stiff like a– a… how you say? Wood?”
“A plank.” You supplied with an exhausted laugh as you headed over and lowered onto the floor, your back resting comfortably against the front of the sofa between her legs.
Having her behind you, even in that scenario, especially in that scenario, brought you a strange but undeniable amount of comfort and peace of mind.
She leaned forward slightly, her chin resting just above your head as she reached past to drag one of your highlighted study sheets off the table. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the dense English text.
“Okay…” She mumbled, her finger tracing beneath a line of bold print. She took a slow deep breath, concentrating hard on the letters. “So-cio-cul-tur-al… the-o-ry? No. This is… this too many letters together.” She shook her head, a huff escaping her nose. “What is this? Explain.”
“Sociocultural theory.” You said, tilting your head back so you could look up at her. “It’s basically just the idea that children learn everything through their social interactions. Like, they learn from the culture and the people around them. And they need a mentor.”
As you spoke, Alexia’s hands found your shoulders.
Her palms rested over the fabric of your shirt, her fingers immediately finding the rigid muscles at the base of your neck. When her thumbs pressed firmly into the tightest spot, an involuntary gasp slipped past your lips, your shoulders instantly dropping.
“Shh,” Alexia uttered beside your ear, her hands working in slow and agonisingly perfect circles. “No stop. Speak. I listen.”
“It… it means,” You stammered slightly, your brain melting under the dual influence of her voice and the pressure of her hands. “Knowledge is initially constructed through social interaction or exposure, then internalised by the child. And part of this theory is that we all need… we all need a ‘more knowledgeable other’ to guide us. Like a teacher or a parent or…” You leaned back into her touch as she dug a heel of her hand into your shoulder blade. “...or a girlfriend.”
A soft, rumbling chuckle vibrated against the back of your head.
“Ah,” Alexia hummed, her fingers kneading their way down your upper back, chasing away the physical tension that’d been building up for days. “Like.. you are the ‘more… know-ledge-able… other’ when we do the English? But now…” She dug her thumbs into a stubborn knot, eliciting a soft gasp from you. “I am the boss of the massage.”
“Exactly,” You breathed, closing your eyes as you let your head sink back against her knee. “Just like that.”
“Muy bien. I like this theory.” She decided, the last word making you smile with how much she emphasised the ‘o’. Her hands slid back up to your neck, fingers gently massaging the muscles below your ears. “See? You know this. Your brain is smart, bebé. You just… think too much. You make the words in your head too loud.”
“I have to,” You sighed, a tiny bit of the old worry trying to creep back in. “There's just so much of it, Ale.”
“No,” She countered softly but firmly, her thumbs giving a reassuring press against your collarbone. “You no have to do it alone. You tell me the words, I try to say them, and you explain. Is easy. We are… un equipo. A team. Yes?”
You opened your eyes, looking up at her upside-down face. She was looking down at you with such a tender look of encouragement that you felt a fresh wave of warmth completely consume you, pushing the very last dredges of your academic dread far out of reach.
“Yes,” You whispered, a helpless smile taking over your face. “We're a team.”
“Vale,” She said under her breath, leaning down to leave a kiss on your forehead. When she sat back up, her eyes drifted back to the cluttered table, scanning the pages until she spotted another phrase she wanted to conquer. “That one. E-go… cen-tre-ism?”
“Egocentrism,” You corrected gently, your voice a little thick with sleepiness. Whenever Alexia was here, and the living room was dim and at the perfect temperature, it took no time at all for your tiredness to creep in. “It’s when a child struggles to… comprehend and understand that other people have thoughts and perspectives and feelings different to their own. It’s not selfishness, just that they think everyone sees, hears, and feels exactly the same way they do.”
Alexia let out another hum, her hand playing with the collar of your shirt. “Like… like when Jana think everyone want to eat her terrible pasta? Because… she like it, so she think everyone like it?”
A laugh erupted from you at the comparison, loud enough to echo in the otherwise quiet room. “Actually, yes. That’s a good example of adult egocentrism.”
“I am very smart.” Alexia preened, a smug grin emerging onto her face. “And you– you are very good teacher, see? You explain, I learn, I understand, and you… you no die from the stress.” You smiled bashfully at her praise, cheeks heating up just a touch when she pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “Your head, it feel better?”
“My head is much better,” You admitted, raising your hand to rest over hers on your shoulder and squeezing once. “Thank you, Ale. Really.”
She stared down at you for a long moment, her expression shifting into the adoring, admiring look that always made your heart swell in the best possible way. Her hand moved up to cup your jaw, her thumb lightly tracing your lower lip.
“Good,” She drawled. She held your gaze for another beat before she suddenly tapped your shoulder, the theatrically stern look returning to her eyes as she stood up. “Now. I go make dinner. You relax. Or study, if you want.” She paused for a second to shoot you a light warning glare. “But I no happy if you stress again.”
The midfielder raised her eyebrows, waiting for your compliance.
You smiled shyly up at her, your heart feeling incredibly full. “I won’t stress. I promise.”
The stern facade dissolved immediately, becoming a warm and beaming grin. She leaned down, some strands of straightened hair falling from her bun around your face like a curtain as she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the center of your forehead again.
“Te quiero, profe,” She murmured against your skin.
When she pulled away and headed toward the kitchen, her silver earrings catching the light as she redid her bun, you sat back against the sofa and watched her go.
But the peaceful silence only lasted about ten seconds before the rustle of the plastic bag was interrupted by a confused groan.
“Dónde está la…” Alexia started, before there was a long pause. It was filled only by the sound of cupboard doors opening and closing, and then her head popped back around the entryway with a frustrated frown. “The… the thing for the… hob. To cook in.”
You blinked, trying to translate her frantic gestures in the air. “Do you mean a pan, Ale?”
“Yes! A pan!” She groaned, throwing her hands up. “Where is it? Your kitchen is a… a mystery.”
You gave a laugh as you pushed yourself up from the floor. “Wait there. I’m coming to save you.”
You scooped up a fresh pad of bright yellow post-it notes and a black sharpie from the coffee table, then headed to the kitchen. Your girlfriend was still standing in the middle of the small space, looking at the closed cupboards with a dramatically forlorn, defeated expression.
“I have a solution.” You announced, taking the lid off the pen.
You walked past her and opened the cabinet below the counter, pulling out a pan for her. “First, the pans go in here.”
You scribbled olles y sartenes/pots and pans on a yellow square, peeled it off the stack, and slapped it right onto the cabinet door.
Alexia laughed as she watched you, the sound bubbling up from her chest. “You make labels for me?”
“I’m a teacher in training, Ale. It’s called visual aids.” You teased, already writing the next one.
You opened the slim drawer to the right, sticking cubiertos/cutlery on the front, before moving upwards to the wall cabinets and labelling them with the same language mix on all of them.
Finally, you stepped up to the stove. You neatly wrote delante izquierdo/front left and atrás derecho/back right onto two separate notes, sticking them directly above the respective dials so she actually knew which one she was turning on.
Alexia leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched you work. She was quietly chuckling, but as she looked at the tidy print on the papers, she reached out and ran a finger over the platos y boles note.
“Is… actually very good,” She admitted, then pointed to the newly labelled stove dials. “Front left. Back right. Okay, I no burn the flat down now.”
“Please don’t. Both my landlord and the neighbours would be very upset.” You smiled, capping the pen and pocketing it. “I’m gonna do the rest of my work in here. I’ll try and read, but I’m mostly keeping an eye on you.”
“No, no eye on me.” She scolded, picking up a wooden spoon from the utensilio drawer and waving it at you. “You study, I cook.”
You grabbed your laptop and a notepad, sitting onto one of the tall stools at the high bar table which divided the kitchen from the living area. It was the perfect spot– close enough to still feel settled by her presence and smell whatever she was starting to make, but separate enough that you could focus.
…or try to, at least.
Instead of looking at your screen, your eyes kept drifting over to her, now that you finally had a calm moment to actually take her in.
She stood in front of the counter, carefully cutting up some onions, and the sight of her made something soft squeeze in your chest.
The brunette had really gone all out for you tonight. Her straightened hair caught in the light every time she moved, and the hoops glinted against the warm tone of her skin. Even under the plain kitchen light, the subtle makeup she’d done for your date made her look exceptionally striking, a contrast to the casual grey set she’d changed into.
“You look really beautiful, Ale,” You said softly, catching her off-guard. “I’m sorry about the restaurant again.”
Alexia paused, placing the knife down carefully. She turned her head to look at you over her shoulder, a small, slightly surprised smile tugging at her lips. A faint blush had made its way to her cheeks, too.
“No more sorry.” She murmured, her eyes inexplicably soft as they held your gaze. “And thank you. I try look good for you.”
You gave her a smile that left her feeling a little bashful. “You always look good for me.”
The colour to her cheek only got brighter, and she turned back to the stove with a pleased sway of her shoulders. “Focus on your work, bebé. You distract me.”
You grinned, but turned back to your laptop.
For a few minutes, the flat did fall into a comfortably domestic rhythm. Only the sounds of your pen scratching the paper and the keyboard of your laptop, paired with the sizzle of oil in a pan and Alexia’s humming could be heard.
But then the humming stopped.
You kept your eyes on your notes, but you could feel a gaze burning into the side of your face.
You slowly glanced up. Found her leaning back against the counter, now aimlessly pushing the spoon around the vegetables in the pan, not focusing on it at all. She had her free hand on her hip, watching you with a fond smile, her eyes watching you write.
You held her attention, refusing to let your cheeks blush too much, and pointed your pen at her.
“Now it’s your turn to concentrate. Stop watching me or you’ll burn dinner,” You warned, keeping your voice serious despite the tug at the corner of your mouth. “And then I will stress again. And we both know you don’t want that.”
Her grin instantly turned wicked. She held her hands up in mock surrender, the spoon still dangling from her hand.
“No stress, no stress.” She laughed, turning back to the stove with a shake of her head. “I cook, see? Quiet.”
Your girlfriend – or teaching technique guinea-pig – passed the cooking test with flying colours.
Even if she did forget the word for garlic and instead call it the vampire vegetable.
“I just don’t understand how you didn’t know how to say garlic, but knew how to say vampire vegetable in English.” You were still laughing as the two of you made your way back to the couch after dinner.
“Because… because is logical!” Alexia defended herself, nudging her shoulder against yours as she walked beside you. Her hand rested against the small of your back as she continued her weak defense. “Vampires, they… hate garlic. Everyone know this. So, vampire vegetable. Is perfect English.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ale.” You chuckled, the banter between you both helping to further put you at ease.
However, that didn’t stop your eyes drifting back to the open textbooks and articles on the coffee table. The familiar, anxious itch began to grate away at you again.
You hesitated, knowing she’d disapprove, but still stepped toward the table. “I’m just going to go through one more cha–”
“No.”
Before your fingers could even touch the paper, Alexia’s hand, gentle but firm with intent, closed around your wrist. You looked at her, ready to argue, but the look on her face stopped you.
Her eyes were serious, and filled with an unexpected amount of concern.
“No more tonight,” She told you softly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “You have done enough, okay?”
“Ale, I still have three more–”
“And you have two days to do the work,” she interrupted, her thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist where she still held you. “You are tired. You study for two weeks, every day, and you go to work. Your brain is… full. When you study like this, you learn nothing. You only will make you go crazy.”
You stayed quiet for a moment, breathing through another peak of anxiety.
“I’m just worried I’ll forget everything.” You mumbled, though the fight was leaving you much quicker then you, and Alexia, expected.
“You no forget,” She promised, drawing you into her side as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “You are smartest person I know. Tomorrow, you study. The weekend, you study. But tonight, you rest. Okay?”
You stared at her for a second.
You wanted to argue, tell her that every minute counted, but the heaviness to your limbs and eyelids told a different story. The exhaustion was finally catching up to you, settling deep into your bones now that she was here and the adrenaline of the panic had faded.
With a defeated sigh, you rested your forehead against her cheek. “Okay. You're right. I’m too tired anyway.”
Alexia let out a very quiet, but definitely there, victorious hum as her arm tightened around you in a brief squeeze. “See? Ale is always right.”
You raised an eyebrow at that, to which she grimaced at herself.
“If I agree to that, you have to agree to something too.”
“Okay… dime.” Alexia said suspiciously.
You reached a hand up, unzipped her hoodie in one swift tug, and shrugged it off her shoulders.
“You give me your hoodie. I’m cold.” You said, already putting it on before she got a chance to disagree.
“That… unfair. But okay.” She shrugged, zipping it up for you unnecessarily but it for some reason triggered another bloom of warmth through your body. She then pulled you closer by the hood strings, looking down at you with a soft and affectionate expression. “You look cute in my hoodie. You… my favourite girlfriend.”
Your brain, even as tired as it was, immediately caught the phrasing. You let out a sudden laugh, “Your favourite girlfriend?”
Alexia’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at your amusement. “Yes. What?”
“Ale,” You teased, a sleepy smirk playing on your lips. “Who are the others?”
“The… others?” She repeated, looking genuinely confused. She tilted her head as she tried to translate the joke in her head. “No others. Only you.”
“But you said ‘favourite’ girlfriend,” You explained, your voice filled with quiet giggles as you lightly tapped her chin. “It’s a describing word, yes, but when you say favourite, it implies there’s a list. Like you have a ranking system of girlfriends, a league table, and I just happen to be at the top of it right now.”
Alexia’s eyes instantly widened as the realisation of her mistake finally landed. Her face turned red, the tips of her ears pink, and she began to frantically shake her head.
“No, no, no!” She stammered, accent thicker than normal and rushed as she panicked. “No list! No– no league table! No others! Madre mía, no! I mean... my... my only girl. My... favourite girl. But no other girlfriends! You are the only one! I swear, only you!”
You burst into a fit of laughter, the adorable panic on her face dissipating as you did so. “I know, Ale. I’m just teasing you.”
She stopped to let out a long and dramatic huff as she realised you’d been winding her up. She rolled her eyes, though a reluctant grin quickly broke through her embarrassment as she gave you a gentle shove.
“You are mean,” She grumbled. “Very mean. I try be… sweet in English, and you… you make me look stupid.”
“I think it was very sweet,” You smiled, leaning up to press a quick apologetic kiss to her jaw.
“Good.” She huffed again, though she was beaming now, the blush still faintly colouring her cheeks. “Now, TV time. Love Island time.”
“I can’t believe you watch that.” You shook your head, allowing her to manoeuvre you over to the sofa as she tugged you down beside her, settling you both into the corner of the sofa.
“I like the drama,” Alexia defended with a shameless shrug, her fingers already navigating the remote. “And the people… they are so stupid. Is funny.”
You gave an amused breath, too exhausted to properly debate her terrible taste in reality television, and reached for the thick knit throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa. You tugged it over both of your laps, immediately burying your hands under the fabric as the show's loud theme music started to play.
Almost instantly, the comfort of the sofa, the warmth of the blanket, and the oversized weight of Alexia's hoodie began to work against you. You let your body go entirely slack, melting sideways until your head found its familiar spot in the crook of her shoulder.
Alexia didn't say anything at first. She just adjusted her posture, sinking a little lower into the cushions to give you a better angle, her arm wrapping securely back around your shoulders.
But as the first couple on screen started arguing about some trivial villa drama, she turned her head, her eyes dropping to look down at you. She looked at your face, then pointedly glanced down at the face of her watch, a silent calculation running through her head.
With the way your eyelids were already fluttering, your breathing already deep and slow against her chest, she was quietly wondering to herself if you would even make it to the first ad break. You looked completely defenseless, the anxious ball from an hour ago replaced by a sleepy, curled-up bundle.
A knowing smile tugged at the corner of Alexia's lips. She nudged her shoulder slightly, letting you snuggle even deeper into her side until you were practically tucked under her arm, your nose pressed against the collar of her t-shirt.
She stared at the TV for a quiet second, then shifted her gaze back down to the top of your head.
“I guess…” she mumbled under her breath, her voice barely a whisper against the background noise of the television. “...I stay over tonight, hm?”
You didn't even open your eyes, your brain too heavy to construct a proper sentence, but you gave a slow, deliberate nod against her shoulder, your hand clutching a fistful of her shirt under the blanket.
A soft, low chuckle vibrated in Alexia's chest.
“Sí,” She whispered, leaning her head down to press a lingering, warm kiss to your temple. “Pensé que sí.”
And it was the best decision you’d ever agreed to in a sleepy daze.
Even if you woke up the following morning, in your own bed somehow, with a post-it pressed to your forehead. Mi novia inteligente y my only favourite, it read. Along with a mug of coffee on the bedside table, aptly labelled too of course.
—
hope this follow-up lived up to the first part (paper tigers but ofc can be read as a standalone). ft a bit of my uni course lolol. lemme know :)))
paper tigers is one of my favourites fics, and definitely one of my most popular too! i re-read it the other day for the first time in a long time, and it got me thinking…
would you be interested in a part 2?
yes!
nahhh
Voting ended onJul 12
and if you answered yes, what would you like to read? let me know :)
literally every single french player just 🚶♂️🚶♂️➡️🚶♂️🚶♂️➡️🚶♂️🚶♂️➡️🚶♂️ guys just a suggestion have u tried running and anticipating and tracking ur man
Can you tell me a little more about the premise or will that spoil anything? how did they meet? How long has it been happening? Are there feelings there, is it one sided? Will there be angst…
I can’t wait to read the full story 🧡
oooh i don’t want to give too much away, you’ll have to wait for the story to come out (which will be a while) but i have said before that it’s alexia and r hooking up / in a situationship whilst alexia is in a long term relationship, it’ll be v messy and filled w drama
i’m still trying to plan it which is hard bc it’s gonna be multi-chap and idk how many just that it’s gonna be the longest story i’ve ever written and idk how to plan for stories that long😭
i want to have basically all of it written before i start posting (or at least all of it planned and roughly written or smt) so it will take me a while but im working away on it- my aim is to get it done over summer and start posting like weekly chapters from september maybe
i am worried that i’ll write it and post the first chapter and people just won’t be interested though bc of the topics which is absolutely understandable but i dont want to write a long story like that which has no interest yk😅 so i’ll probs post the first chapter or a long snippet before i get fully into writing the guts of the story
