I think people truly forget how short a football career actually is and that’s it’s technically a job, like she lived out her childhood dream and now she gets to go chase a bag. If anyone deserves it then it’s her.
People also forget that it costs a lot of money to live comfortably, and a ridiculous amount to be in luxury for the rest of your life. Example, to comfortably take 100k out of your investments every year to live, you’d have to have 2.5 million invested. For someone with a more luxurious lifestyle or who is supporting family, you’re going to need literally millions. Not just earned, but spare and invested.
Given her career and the fact that she’s - even in the eyes of people who are currently being vitriolic - literally the best in the world, I personally think she’s earned the right to set herself and her family up for life.
If that means a few years playing LESS games, getting to live somewhere else and get paid bank to experience a different part of the world, I think that’s incredibly fair.
and *finally*, we hear from maria tikas about the decision making process and chronology that happened months and months ago and acknowledging that the timing overshadowed the season:
but the decision-making process began long before that. in particular, last summer. In 2024, after two difficult seasons marred by injury, alexia signed a new contract with barça in a very different context to the current one. the captain was still regaining her form, and that renewal was inevitably influenced by the uncertainty surrounding her fitness and performance at the time, in a situation that no longer reflected alexia’s true stature on and off the pitch. the deal included an easily exercisable one-year option, designed precisely to allow both parties to reassess the situation at a later date.
at the end of the transfer window last summer, with alexia back to her best, PSG made her a very substantial offer and were even prepared to pay her release clause. however, following several discussions with barça, the captain decided to stay. she did so without asking for anything in return, prioritising finishing the season in barcelona and postponing any final decision on her future. it was then that the club and the player agreed that, should the time come when alexia felt her time in barcelona had come to an end, the club would facilitate her departure. although that +1 year was practically a done deal, both parties understood that there would be no obstacles if the captain decided to bring her blaugrana spell to a close.
and the season began with a very clear thought in the captain’s mind: it could be her last. not just for personal reasons, but also because of the team’s current situation. alexia has never wanted to stand in the way of the new generation and understood that barça was already undergoing a natural transition. even so, she has responded with one of the best seasons of her recent career: decisive in the big games, the team’s footballing and emotional leader, and once again a leading contender for the ballon d’or.
she has also experienced moments that shook her to the core. the first came at the spotify camp nou, in the quarter-finals against madrid, on the day of the tribute marking her 500th appearance for barça. it was a night filled with emotion, ovations and symbolism. the second, even more revealing, came weeks later against bayern, also at the camp nou. when she was substituted in the semi-finals, alexia couldn’t hold back her tears. that was when she began to seriously doubt the decision she had been mulling over for months. because there is no perfect moment to leave the club of your life. and even less so when you are still making a decisive impact.
that is why alexia did not inform barça of her final decision until she was one hundred per cent certain. she did not want the speculation surrounding her future to disrupt or distract a team on the verge of winning another champions league title. although it inevitably ended up happening due to the player’s media and emotional profile, internally it was never seen as a dressing room issue. It was simply impossible for alexia’s potential departure to go unnoticed.
finally, the captain realised that it was the ideal moment to come full circle. She is leaving after winning another quartet of titles, having been absolutely vital and leaving the team ready for the next generation. a grand exit, consistent with everything she has meant in the club’s history. now, the future lies far from barcelona. alexia is considering offers from mexico and the united states, although the most tempting offers are coming from england.
THERE WAS SOMETHING DIFFERENT ABOUT ALEXIA PUTELLAS. You had always known this; everyone knew this. But now being merely feet away from her, you could tell that there was something about her that seemed more than just different, so unlike anything you have seen before.
tags/contains: vampire!Alexia, human!reader, 18+, smut, obsession, mild bloodplay, predator/prey talk, making out, fondling, eventual angst (maybe?), violence, blood, mentions of death, minimal mentions of killing | wc: 7k
masterlist ♡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!
please do not repost this, plagiarize, or feed to ai!
I. The First Impression
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆₊ ♱ THERE WAS SOMETHING DIFFERENT ABOUT ALEXIA PUTELLAS. You had always known this; everyone knew this. But now being merely feet away from her, you could tell that there was something about her that just seemed so different, so unlike anything you have seen before.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆₊ ♱ From a distance, you had watched her, together with the rest of the world. People have always viewed Alexia with a sense of reverence and admiration. She was La Reina – the queen. She was the star of FC Barcelona, a philanthropist whose name graced youth academies and charitable foundations, a woman who carried greatness so naturally that the title just felt naturally hers.
Alexia had always been a great player; she was already deemed as one of the GOATS of football in her late 20s. But in recent years, something changed.
She started improving, playing better than she had been. Suddenly, extraordinary seemed an insufficient descriptor. “Great” started to become an embarrassingly small word to describe her..
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆₊ ♱ It started when she came back from a minor injury years ago, back when she was 32. The club was vague about it: muscle fatigue and some sort of other illness. They didn’t say what it was exactly, leaving fans guessing.
She returned weeks later and she just seemed… different. It was not even a subtle change; it was striking and immediately noticeable.
During her first game back, a clip of her went viral, running past every single player on the opposite team, dribbling with ease and scoring a goal practically singlehandedly. A pundit aptly put: “We’re watching time reverse and we are seeing the same Alexia we did years ago when she won her first Ballon D’or but even better, faster, stronger.”
That seemed consistent in every game that followed. She was faster than she had been at age twenty. In fact, she was actually faster than the youngest players on her own team, faster than wingers who had been recruited specifically for their pace. And, she dribbled with an unseen grace and precision, as if she could hear the thoughts of the players around her, as though their next move was already known to her before their bodies had even committed to it. Her goals also broke records for the velocity at which they came, making headline after headline.
The most unbelievable part of it all was how calm and serene she seemed. It was almost eerie. She wasn’t just focused in the same way that other athletes were focused; it was more akin to the meditative calm and intensity of a predator hunting its prey.
At this point, commentators ran out of superlatives and began borrowing language from mythology. Suddenly, La Reina was not enough. People started calling her La Diosa. Fans of other teams called her El Monstruo, which was never really meant as an insult but as an awed surrender, like acknowledging that there was no way anyone could face her unscathed. And when she reached 37 and was still seemingly improving, a new title came: La Inmortal.
They said it as a joke, mostly, saying that there was no way someone like her, someone who seeminly improved with age was going to retire. It became the running joke amongst pundits and fans alike – that she would play until she was a hundred years old and even then, she would still be outplaying every single person on the pitch. It seemed like an exaggeration but anyone with eyes would concur that there was no sign of her slowing down any time soon.
Which was why her retirement announcement came so sudden.
Right before her 40th birthday, with her contract at Barcelona expiring and the club prepared to offer her something that had no precedent in women's football and with other clubs circling with offers that exceeded even that, Alexia Putellas announced her retirement.
The discourse erupted within minutes and did not settle for weeks. Pundits filled airtime with the kind of intensity usually reserved for scandal.
Some called it wisdom. They said that she was the rare athlete who leaves before leaving becomes necessary. “Know when you have to go before you’re forced out,” pundits said. Others called it waste, criminal, as if she was robbing them of something personal to them,
Part of you understood why. It wasn’t normal to see someone that great retire for no reason.
But then again, nothing was normal when it came to Alexia.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆₊ ♱ “Are you okay? You look pale,” Your best friend and coworker Lucia said, shaking you away from your thoughts.
“Yeah, just haven’t had a smoke for a while,” you said, sighing. “Can’t be smelling like nicotine when I finally get to see Alexia in the flesh. I’ve always had a small crush on her, ever since the last world cup.”
Lucia nodded. “Yeah, totally get it. She’s fine as hell.” She commented, re-adjusting her blonde hair into a neater ponytail. “I still can’t believe we get to work this catering gig, huh? I think this must be our biggest event. Alvaro must be geeking,” Lucia said, making a comment about your boss at this catering company as she looked around the room you were all getting ready in. “This place is pretty bougie too. It looks like something out of Bridgerton.”
You chuckled. “Well, it’s her birthday and retirement party so I assume she really is going all out.”
“I hope the players from the men’s team are invited too. I’ve got a huge crush on Gavi,” Lucia said, looking at the mirror to adjust her blonde hair, making sure there were no loose strands. “He’s so cute.”
“For your sake, I do hope he does but for me… I just wanna see Alexia,” you sighed. “Even if the only thing I’d be able to say to her is ‘Champagne?’”
Lucia laughed. “I hope Gavi asks me where the toilet is. I’d be so ready to tell him.”
“I can’t believe we’re fangirling over this.” You said, mimicking Lucia in brushing your hair back to make it sleeker and neater. “I feel like this is the only time we’d ever be this excited to do waitressing.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the first time we’re gonna have actual celebrities as our clients,” Lucia retorted. “But don’t get used to it cause next week, it’s back to old people birthdays and gender reveals.”
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆₊ ♱ The hotel ballroom came to life as soon as the decorations were set up and the guests came pouring in, dressed in formal attire. The event was big enough to have a red carpet and press coverage. It seemed like every big name in Spanish football was here.
You threaded through the gilded room, dressed in the anonymous uniform of the catering staff. You held a tray of champagne, offering to everyone that came past you. You hummed, looking around, waiting for Alexia to arrive. Sure, it was nice serving all these other big names but you really only wanted to see Alexia.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆₊ ♱ As soon as Alexia arrived, the attention drifted to her. As much as you wanted to stand by and admire, you were quickly ushered toward the kitchen. You were pulled away to help prepare for the upcoming dinner, and by the time you surfaced again to the main floor, her retirement speech was already winding down and she was being taken to her table which was on the farther end of the room, away from where you were assigned to serve.
So much for my interaction, you thought to yourself as you sighed, picking up another tray of alcoholic drinks, readying to serve another round before dinner.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆₊ ♱ Even if you didn’t always like this job, considering how much you had to do for an event, barely allowing you time to breathe, it did come with its perks. The wages were decent. The hours were manageable. Unlike in the bars and clubs you used to work in, being nice and friendly wasn’t required. God, how it tired you out having to fake smile at some creep making a pass at you.
Sure, you might have always been on your feet but it was better than all those late-nights at the clubs. Hell, you might have liked it even better than your previous waitressing job cause at least here, you didn’t have to worry about some customer taking out their anger at food you didn’t even prepare.
Here, you were blissfully ignored and there was a strange kind of freedom in invisibility. It was a great change from all your jobs that required social interaction and fake niceties. You moved through rooms like this one, where everyone was too busy chattering and eating to even notice you.
Which was precisely why it was so disorienting whenever you were noticed.
You felt a prickling at the back of your neck, feeling that particular awareness of being watched. You turned around on instinct, scanning the room, looking for someone potentially flagging you down for a drink but there was no one.
But just as you were about to turn your head back, your gaze landed on her.
Alexia was across the room, perhaps fifteen feet away, standing tall, dressed in a sleek black dress. She was mid-conversation with a tall man in a well-fitted suit. She held a glass of red wine loosely in one hand, swirling it slowly, laughing at whatever the guy was saying.
You told yourself to divert your gaze, to not let your eyes linger long enough to make your gaze noticeable, but it was just so difficult for you to look away.
You had seen her earlier in the evening, in brief stolen glances between tasks but there had always been something in the way: a guest stepping into your line of sight, a tray needing balancing, your manager calling you over to serve another table. So, this was the first opportunity you had to really look at her.
She was stunning. You’ve seen her in photos and on the screen but none of it seemed to do her justice. Her skin glowed, almost impossibly so. She looked like she was made of a fine material like porcelain or glass. Her dark hair fell across her shoulder as she turned her head. The way it fell looked choreographed; it just looked too perfect, as if every strand settled exactly where it should. Her jaw was sharp and her cheekbones held shadow beautifully. Her mouth curved into a smile as she waved the man off as he seemingly excused himself from their conversation. Her teeth were incredibly white, not in the way that artificial veneer did; it looked more like fine ivory or marble. She swirled the wine glass again, bringing it to her face to sniff, but never drinking it.
And then, her eyes glanced up, meeting yours.
You were taken aback for a moment, feeling magnetized by her gaze, the way the chandelier lights caught in her eyes. And almost imperceptibly, her lips curled into a small smirk. You quickly blinked, pulling yourself back, embarrassed to be caught staring at her like that.
You turned away immediately, heat rising to your face. You were so distracted by your own shame and embarrassment that you had not realized that someone was moving past you and you walked directly into them.
The collision was immediate and the fact that you were too caught up in your own thoughts did not help. Your initial reflex was to save the tray, afraid of the glass falling and shattering, which proved to be a stupid decision because it meant your hands stayed up and occupied while the rest of you clumsily stumbled. You lurched sideways and went down hard with your hips and forearm taking the weight of your fall.
You winced upon impact, registering the cold spread of alcohol soaking into your clothes, the heat of embarrassment climbing your face. Then, the pain arrived. Your forearm was the only thing that was really able to break your fall, bearing most of your weight as you hit the floor.
When you turned over, you winced again, feeling a sharper pain. There was blood dripping down your arm. You figured that it must have landed on one of the glasses that had shattered. You pressed it instinctively to your side, and became aware, all at once, that people were looking at you.
You looked down, biting the inside of your cheek. Somehow the embarrassment felt worse than the pain.
“Are you okay?” You looked up to see Alexia, crouching directly in front of you.
You blinked. She had been fifteen feet away just a second ago. You were certain of it; you had just been looking at her. There was no reasonable way she was already here… and yet here she was, close enough that you could see the fine detail of her face. There was no sweat or tension in her face, no sign that she must have run over from there to here just now.
Before you could make sense of it, she took your hand and pressed a folded napkin firmly against the cut. You winced at the pressure.
“You took quite a fall there, huh?” She asked, voice low and calm.
The words caught in your throat, unsure of what to say. Alexia looked up, eyes meeting yours. There was a hint of amusement in her expression. “Hit your head too?”
You suddenly realized that you had been staring at her without saying anything, probably too taken aback by her presence and your confusion on how she made it to you that fast.
“Alexia, we’ll take care –” The event coordinator hurriedly said, rushing to Alexia’s side, offering to take over but Alexia waved him off.
"I've got it." She said it simply, like it wasn't up for discussion, and turned back to you. "That cut looks like it needs more than a cloth napkin. I have a first aid kit in my room and some tweezers, just in case some shards got caught in there."
You nodded, still a bit stunned.
"We have one in the kitchen," you said quickly. "The catering company always comes prepared, so really, there's no need—"
She shook her head, and when the rest of your colleagues arrived in a small concerned cluster, she looked up at them with a smile, dismissing them. “I was the one who collided with her. I wasn’t looking. So, this is my fault,” she explained, lying about what happened. “It’s my responsibility so I’ll take care of it.”
Everyone acquiesced. Of course they did, it was impossible to say no to her when she smiled at you like that. It was hypnotizing.
You stared at her. You had taken a fall, not a blow to the head so you were also fairly sure that she had not been anywhere near you when you went down. She had been across the room. So why was she telling everyone otherwise?
She helped you to your feet, offering her arm, and you took it without thinking. The moment your hand closed around her forearm, two things registered at once: how cold her skin was, and how solid it was. It felt like holding onto marble.
Everyone clapped as the Catalan helped you up, swooping into the scene like some hero, and was now taking time out of her own celebration to patch some random nobody up. It gave everyone more reason to admire her.
Alexia guided you out of the ballroom and toward the elevator, unhurried, unbothered by the small scene being tidied up behind you by your co-workers.
As soon as you stepped into the elevator with her, the silence was immediate and complete. Just the two of you, the soft mechanical hum of the elevator, and the faint sting of your forearm reminding you that this was, in fact, real.
“Miss Alexia, you really don’t have to –” You started but she immediately raised her hand, silencing you before you could even say anything more.
She turned to look at you again. Now that she was closer, under the bright fluorescence of the elevator, you could see her eyes better: the warm hazel hue, the way the specks in her eyes caught the light like actual gold. “Please, you’re doing me a favor,” she said with a smile. “I was… getting bored of the same conversations about my retirement.”
You nodded, remembering that again just now. You bit your lip before saying, “Happy birthday, by the way.”
She chuckled. “Thank you.”
“You don’t look 40, at all,” you said meekly, mostly as a compliment but also as a fact. Even up close, you could see that there was barely any sign of aging on her face. Sure, she had a few, small smile lines around her eyes but aside from that, there was nothing. She looked the same as she did when she was 30 and a full decade has passed since then.
“That’s what good hydration gets you,” she commented. The elevator dinged. “We’re here. C’mon, let me help you out.”
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆₊ ♱ Alexia guided you to sit on the edge of the hotel bed, fidgeting nervously, biting your lip. You took a quick glance at her as she walked into the hotel room’s separate washroom and closet area. As she did, you took the opportunity to look around the room.
It was the first time you had the chance to be in a fancy suite like this. The room was amazing and spacious. Everything was incredibly neat. The bed beneath you was pristine, sheets undisturbed. You figured that maybe had just come through, but then your eyes found the corner by the large, floor-to-ceiling windows where a silk blouse draped was over the back of the chair, hotel slippers seemingly hastily taken off on the floor, and a robe was thrown across the armchair in the corner the way people throw things when they're getting ready in a hurry. One of the two white Rimowa suitcases was left open on the floor, stuff clearly having taken out of it. It was an indication that the room was used but not slept in. You figured maybe she had come here to prepare and nothing more, but the amount of clothes Alexia brought suggested otherwise.
“Here we go,” your train of thought was broken through with Alexia walking towards you carrying a first-aid kit. This looked less like those readily assembled kits you could buy from groceries, and more like what a paramedic would have in their ambulance. It was assembled in a white case that was structured vaguely like a toolbox. She set it on the carpeted floor right by your feet before kneeling in front of you, her thick and heavy black dress pooling around you. “Glad I always come prepared.”
“Oh, no, you don’t have to…” you said, feeling a bit guilty that this beautiful woman was kneeling before you in what looked like a couture gown, trying to clean up some wound that barely looked serious. “I don’t want you to ruin your dress.”
“This is a bigger priority to me than some dress,” she chuckled, gesturing to your gash. “Besides, when I was a kid, I kinda wanted to be a doctor or a nurse. Quickly disregarded that dream when I realized doctors had to deal with blood and needles. So, this is me partly living out that fantasy while having to deal with my fears.”
You nodded, acquiescing to it. Alexia seemed to actually be knowledgeable with wound care, judging by the ease in which she moved. You glanced again at her first aid kit. It wasn't the standard collection of plasters and paracetamol. It was organised and complete with gauze rolls, sterile dressings, antiseptic solution, antibiotic ointment, tweezers, medical tape. Everything labelled, everything in its place.
It seemed to be stocked specifically for wound care, curated with a knowledge that went beyond casual.
“You deal with wounds a lot?” You said, gesturing your head towards the kit.
Alexia’s mouth curled into a small smile as she looked through the kit, taking the squeeze bottle she seemingly just filled up in the hotel bathroom, using it to clean out your wound. “I’m an athlete so I guess you could say I do.” She said, nodding as she continued to clean your wound gently. “Athletes can be clumsy and get gashes too.”
You nodded. It made sense… partly. But you just figured that this was one of her quirks, living out her childhood fantasy or whatever. You just thought: who were you to judge when you had your own quirks as well.
Alexia inhaled deeply. "The glass cut deeper than I thought," she said quietly as she held her breath, seemingly not releasing it.
“Is it bad?” You asked.
She hummed. “No, but I might have to check if anything’s stuck. A glass shard or whatever.”
You watched her examine the wound with a careful precision, angling your arm a bit as she did. She was really focused, locked in at the task at hand. The room settled into a quiet with just the low mechanical hum of the air conditioning, and the sound of your own breathing filling the room. You became aware, after a moment, that you really couldn't hear her breathing at all, as if she was too focused to even breathe.
Without looking down she reached into the kit and produced a pair of tweezers.
"Can I borrow your lighter?” She asked.
You nodded, reaching into your pocket with your uninjured hand to hand her your lighter. She thanked you curtly before running a flame along the tip of the tweezers, unhurried, then set the lighter down and waited for the metal to cool just enough. When she leaned in, her grip on your forearm was light but completely certain. It was the kind of hold that says ‘don't move’ and so, you didn't.
Swiftly, Alexia extracted a small, barely visible shard of glass that caught the light just a second before she discarded it on a paper napkin. As she extracted it, a drop of blood welled, trailing a thin line down your forearm and wrist.
Alexia didn't reach for the gauze. She paused, seemingly growing still and stiff for a second before inhaling once more then looking up at you, voice coming out entirely measured. “Do you mind?”
You blinked. "What?"
She didn't answer with words. Instead, her eyes stayed locked on yours, and slowly and deliberately she raised your forearm toward her mouth. You felt her breath cool against your skin, sending a shiver from your arm that crawled up to your neck before feeling her tongue press flat against where the trail of blood ended up to where your gash was.
You should have pulled away. You knew this was fucking odd and weird, especially coming from someone who was essentially a stranger and technically your boss, as she did hire you to work for her. And yet… you didn’t pull away.
You couldn’t.
Not in the sense that she was gripping your arm too tight but more of in a sense that you couldn’t help it. You just didn’t feel like pulling away.
In the same sense, you couldn't look away from her eyes. They locked into your eyes as soon as she pressed her tongue onto your wrist, as if daring you to pull away or look away or say anything. At that moment, you realized that something changed. Her eyes… which you had catalogued earlier as a complex hazel-green, had darkened considerably so. The colour had deepened toward something almost black.
Then Alexia blinked before lowering your arm and she smiled, crookedly and reserved, as if trying to see how your reaction was going to be.
"You looked terrified," she said. The lightness was back in her voice, easy and warm, almost teasing. "Like a deer in headlights."
You laughed but it came out flat, almost fake, like you were just laughing for the sake of lightening the mood but your heart beating violently against your chest begged to disagree. And she was right: you were scared. It wasn’t enough to trigger a flight-or-flight response but just… at the borderline of it.
Alexia, unbothered, reached for the antiseptic. She stayed quiet, not addressing what she did, as if nothing odd had happened. Just as she was pressing the final strip of tape down, sealing the dressing, you heard yourself speak.
"Why are you doing this?" You asked, pausing. “I meant… the whole taking care of me. You don’t even know me.”
Out of all the questions in your head, you didn’t know why you had to blurt that one out. But Alexia seemed pleased with the question, pausing in thought before averting her gaze back to you,
"I care about the people who work my events," she said simply. "Like how I care about the staff at the club, the people who work during my shoots, just everyone I work with. If a teammate went down during training, I wouldn't just step over her. Would I? So, why would I feel any differently about someone working with me tonight?" She said it calmly and genuinely. You believed what she was saying. There was no use performing or pretending. It was just the two of you in this room.
And yet… something sat slightly incomplete about it. Like a sentence that had ended one word too early. It felt like she was still withholding something.
She put everything back into the kit, closed it, and after a moment added, almost offhandedly: "Besides, at a fundamental level, everyone is the same so there’s no use treating people differently.” She looked at you, explaining shortly after what she meant after seeing the confused look on your face. “I mean, all people are the same: same biology, same flesh, blood, a heart that keeps going until it doesn't." She smiled to herself. "That doesn't change based on who you are or what you do."
You looked at her. Something about the phrasing snagged at you — same flesh, same blood — though you couldn't have said why. "Don't you think you're different, though?"
She looked up, and there was a flicker of something in her expression, not offence, but genuine amusement. She raised an eyebrow. "Why would you say that?"
"Because you…" You started, and then the words came faster than you could manage them. "You're – I mean, you're Alexia Putellas. You've broken records that you set yourself. You play like… like the game is slower for you than it is for everyone else, like you already know what's going to happen. There's never been anyone like –" You stopped. The heat arrived in your face all at once. You had been rambling. You had been gushing, and the look on Alexia's face confirmed that she had noticed every word of it. You looked down. "Sorry. I just… I've followed your career for a while. I guess I am a fan.”
Alexia blinked, looking for the first time tonight, surprised at what you had said. It was the most expression you had seen on her face. “Really? You watch my games?”
“Of course, I mean… everyone does.” You said, voice smaller and meeker.
She smiled. “I didn’t know that.”
“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows.
She corrected. “I meant, I wouldn’t have guessed that about you… that you watched my games.”
You nodded. “Yeah, well, I mean… just like I said, you’re different, one of a kind. That kind of person… well, just attracts everyone’s attention, I guess.”
Alexia said nothing for a moment, seemingly taking in what you said.
"Football…" she said finally. “It’s just a job. I mean, it’s a job I love and gets a lot of attention…but still, a job. It doesn't make me different from you. Not in any way that matters."
You hummed, turning that over. You didn't entirely believe her. False modesty was common enough in athletes, and perhaps she had simply gotten very good at it. But then she spoke again, and her tone had shifted into something quieter, more careful, like she was deciding to say something she didn't often say.
"You, though." She tilted her head slightly. "You're the one who is truly different."
You blinked. "Me?"
She paused, nodding. “I’m able to read people well – a strong intuition, some would say. And I can usually tell what someone is feeling before they've finished deciding how to show it."
You frowned, failing to understand her point.
She continued. "Your colleague, for instance – the one with the blonde ponytail — she has a crush on Gavi. She's been deliberately filling his glass only halfway all night so he keeps having to flag her down to refill it.”
Your mouth opened slightly.
"The man I was speaking to when you first noticed me," she continued, without breaking rhythm, "was not there to celebrate anything. He had been using those new betting apps and had a thousand euros staked on me playing through next season. He came over under the pretense that his daughter had bought a season pass and had been crying about my retirement." She glanced up briefly. "He was trying to change my mind while pretending to appeal to my sentimentality."
You tried to smile, tried to meet the anecdote with the lightness it seemed to call for, but something cold had moved through you. Your body had registered something before your mind caught up: a low-frequency alarm. This was it: your flight-or-fight reflex slowly but surely creeping up to your consciousness.
But it felt like you couldn’t move. Again, you felt frozen.
"But you… I can't figure out your thoughts." Alexia said, tone light but mixed with a hint of frustration. She looked into your eyes, as if searching for something. “I can’t even guess what you would be thinking about right now.”
You frowned. "What do you mean? My best friend says I'm an open book."
"Maybe she can read your emotions well…” she said, tilting her head slightly. "But that's different. I can see what you let me see, what you feel on the surface. But I can't see how you think, what you want, what you're going to do next."
She paused, exhaling a breath that she had seemingly been holding onto for minutes. "You're the only person I've ever met where I can feel the emotion but not find the thought behind it." She paused again. “The only person I can’t figure out.”
You didn't know what to say to that, so you said nothing.
"Right now, for instance." She rose from the floor in one fluid motion, unfolding to her full height above you with an effortlessness that felt almost deliberate. She stood over you where you sat at the edge of the bed, and then leaned down, bringing her lips level with your ear.
"You're afraid of me." Her voice was low, almost amused, her breath cold against the shell of your ear in a way that raised every hair on the back of your neck.
Then her hand moved, two fingers pressed with precision to the base of your throat. She rested her fingers right on top of a pulse point, your pulse jumping beneath her touch immediately. She pulled back just far enough to look at you directly. This close, you could see every detail of her face with an unwanted clarity: the dark fan of her lashes, the way the low light caught the unusual depth of her eyes, the almost imperceptible curve at the corner of her mouth.
"But I wonder," she murmured, "if fear is all that is."
Her two fingers moved carefully from the base of your throat to the underside of your chin, tilting your face up toward hers. The touch was cold and certain and you let it happen, unable… or even unwilling to resist.
You had stopped breathing evenly. You were aware of it and you were aware that she was aware of it, that she could feel the way your pulse quickened, the way the air between you had changed quality entirely. Her gaze dropped, just briefly, to your mouth.
You saw her lips part. You saw, unmistakably, the slow drag of her tongue across her lower lip, licking it as if she was a predator ready to devour her prey.
You parted your lips to breathe in and just like that, her mouth was on yours.
You gasped, taken aback by the suddenness of it, body going completely still for a second. Unmistakably, that same fight-or-flight instinct you felt a while ago was now spreading throughout yoyr body. You put your hands on Alexia’s shoulders, ready to push her off. But as you felt her kiss you, the taste of her mouth, the smell of her skin, you felt your body practically dissolving into her kiss.
Alexia kissed so differently from how she did everything else. There was none of that calmness she had earlier today; there were no deliberate and slow movements. This felt almost feral, with a fervor that somehow felt like it bypassed lust and went straight into something more unsettling.
You had past lovers who were incredibly intense but never like this.
It actually felt less like just physical intimacy and more like Alexia was claiming you. When she licked your lips before letting her tongue enter into your mouth, it didn’t feel like she was asking permission. It just felt like she was taking… taking in a way that made you want to completely give in,
She gripped your waist and lifted you as though you weighed nothing at all, adjusting you with ease, so that you were on your back against the mattress and she was above you, her dark dress spreading around you both like a tide coming in as she settled between your legs.
She continued to kiss you as her hands moved around your body, gripping your waist. Her hands seemed careful and yet also firm, enough to surely leave a mark, something that would surely be a bit sore in the morning. And yet, you arched into it, moaning into her mouth, feeling her hands tighten further in response.
You felt a slight shift of her weight bearing down more fully against you as her other hand moved to your neck, fingers gripping around it. Your neck settled nicely into the space between her palm and pointer finger, feeling arousal at the firmness of the touch. Using her thumb she forced your head to turn to the side, allowing her face to have more access to your neck.
You gasped, feeling her hand steadily holding your neck and her mouth plant kisses from your lips to your cheeks and down to your jaw and eventually, your neck.
She took her hand off your neck, pressing it flat against the mattress beside your head and the other held onto your hip, keeping you exactly where she wanted you. Her mouth found the curve of your throat and she pressed one open, deliberate kiss there, swiping her neck firmly against the skin just as she did with your arm. In contrast to the intensity of her kiss, her tongue now moved slowly, unhurried, as if she was testing your reaction.
You moaned, shivering slightly at the coldness of her breath, the warmth welling up inside you providing contrast to her freezing mouth. Alexia pressed her tongue once more, even harder against your skin while simultaneously wrapping her lips around the area, creating a slight suction. Your hands moved to wrap themselves around the Catalan, lips parted as you raised your head upwards in pleasure.
“Alexa,” you moaned out loud.
The sound of her voice made Alexia hesitate, feeling a pang of guilt as she grew aware of her hands on you and the uncomfortable turn of your neck. She knew she should have stopped there. She knew this was her sign to stop, to keep hold of her control while she could.
But before she knew it, your hands were finding its way back to her hair, pulling her into a deeper kiss.
You didn’t know what had overcome you at that moment. You weren’t the type to just desparately make out with strangers, especially not famous footballers who were seemingly fucking insane and might have a blood fetish, but it felt like you were in a hypnotic daze. Everything about Alexia was hypnotic – her smell, her touch, the taste of her mouth. It was like nothing you have felt before.
Little did you know, Alexia was feeling the same thing. Ever since her turning, there were very few intimate encounters for the vampire; the proximity and the scents were too intense for her to control herself. It was the quickened pulse, the blood rushing through their veins, the pheromones attacking her nose, the warmth just beneath her fingertips. The two times she tried to hook up with a beautiful stranger were both a bust: the first she had drained before they even got started, and the second she had literally devoured mid-climax.
Both times had been intense for Alexia and yet nothing compared to this. Something about you was just bringing out a different hunger in her. Perhaps it was the taste of your blood from your arm still lingering in her mouth, or the absence of your loud thoughts interrupting the intimacy of the moment, or perhaps it was your saccharine scent. The way you smelled like fruit kissed by the sun, tender-skinned and fragrant, pure and begging to be eaten.
Alexia moaned into your mouth as she took in all sensations of you, practically equally dazed as you were now. Your hands wrapped around her brown hair, pulling her impossibly closer, arching into her as her tongue entered your mouth. Alexia’s tongue rolled against yours and it felt like you were hearing her let out breaths for the first time the entire night. You moaned as she kissed your lips harder, biting slightly at your lips.
Alexia’s fangs were partially out, practically signalling her to take a bite, to sink in. They pressed forward involuntarily, being teased by the graze of your lips, your skin, your pulse. Alexia grunted, lifting her hands and placing one flat against the mattress beside your head and the other on your hip.
Her mouth worked slowly down your throat, unhurried now in sharp contrast to the intensity of before. She placed gentle kisses on your neck, shoulder, down to just above where the two sides of your top met.
Alexia was barely holding on. At this point, her fangs were practically aching, begging her to sink into something. Her closer proximity to your heart did not help at all.
She redirected her energy into your top instead, taking it off with a swift motion. The fabric gave way, a button practically flying off as she did. You gasped and before you could do anything with that breath, her mouth was already on your chest, trailing slow, cold kisses across your skin while her hand found your breast, squeezing it lightly You moaned at the intensity of it, the feeling of her mouth and the tip of her tongue grazing your bare skin, the firmness of her hands against your flesh.
Alexia pulled the bra cup to the side, sucking your nipple into her mouth, and flicking it with her tongue with an unhurried steadiness but below that surface, she was burning. The proximity to your chest, the reverberations of your heartbeat against her lips, the warmth radiating off your skin… it pushed against her now crumbling self-control. Her fangs pressed forward again but she tried so hard to press them back. The effort left her jaw aching.
She lifted her head, looking down on you for a minute, in your state of disheveledness.
She watched you flushed beneath her, chest rising and falling in erratic waves, looking up with your eyes that just looked so innocent and trusting. She almost felt a pang of guilt seeing you all bare and laid out for her. Like a lamb for the slaughter.
“Please,” it escaped your mouth before you even realized it. “Please, Alexia.”
And that was the end of her hesitation.
Something shifted in Alexia. You could practically see it manifest in the way her eyes darkened and her mouth curved. It was a smirk but with the way your heart quickened and your anxiety started to surface, it felt more like she snarled at you.
And for a second, Alexia felt a rush of pride. Just the thought of having a prey beneath her, almost completely bare and helpless at her mercy and still begging to be devoured.
Alexia couldn’t help it anymore. She leaned in without saying a word. Her mouth found your jaw, your cheek, the line of your throat, hurried and impatient kisses, working their way roughly down your neck. Her eyes practically rolled to the back of her head as she felt your pulse now, violently thrashing against her tongue. She could practically taste it, taste you. Alexia bared her fangs completely and suddenly, you felt a sharp sensation, like teeth breaking your skin. You moaned loudly, the sound almost restrained in your throat.
And just as you did, the hotel phone rang, startling both of you.
You didn’t even get to see Alexia get up; you just felt her weight on top of you suddenly disappear. You blinked, slightly overstimulated as all your senses suddenly returned. As you slowly sat up from the bed, your eyes darted to the phone. The sound of it cut through the room. And the pain in your neck was sharper.
Alexia huffed before picking up the phone.
"Sí." Her voice was completely level and calm but her body told a different story entirely. She was rigid, every line of her body wound tight with a frustration she was choosing, carefully, not to express. Like she was trying not to explode or show emotion. She continued to talk to the other person on the other line.
She stood with her back to you, fingers white against the receiver, and listened to whoever was on the other end with the controlled stillness of someone exerting considerable effort.
You lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, chest rising and falling unsteadily. Your hand moved on its own, pressing to the curve of your neck where her mouth had been last, where the drag of her teeth had just barely started. The sharp pain you initially felt was slowly dissipating and yet you still couldn’t help but feel for any potential gash or wound.
"—sí. Ahora mismo." Alexia set the phone down, pausing. She nodded to herself.
"You need to go back down." She didn't turn around, seemingly hiding her face. Her voice was still measured but the edges of it were tight, barely contained. "I'll follow shortly."
You sat up slowly, still trying to locate your composure. “What?”
“We need to go back,” Alexia said, voice tighter as if she was trying to contain anger. “Go first. I need to freshen up.”
“Oh but –” your voice came out soft and unsure.
“I said leave.” Her voice was quieter this time but there was a tone that just felt final and commanding.
You got up carefully, still light-headed from kissing, adjusting your skirt and top. You looked around frantically for the missing top button as you ran a flat hand through your messy hair, putting your shoes on as you did
You must have been moving slowly because Alexia shouted, back still turned. “LEAVE.”
Even with your shoes barely on, sides of the shoes uncomfortable tucked into your feet, you hurriedly ran off, frightened by the sudden outburst. The phone conversation seemed perfectly normal. It was short, barely anything was discussed so you were certain that her reason for suddenly telling you to leave had very little to do with the call.
You practically ran out of the door, moving swiftly even as you were in the hallway, frantically pressing the elevator button as you felt your heart beating loudly.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆₊ ♱ Alexia groaned loudly as she heard you shut the door behind you, frustrated at the caller but also at herself.
Her fangs still remained bared, refusing to retract, as though they had been teased by the promise of your taste. It hurt in a way nothing else ever had yet forcing them to pull back felt like its own kind of torture.
She sighed as she shook her head, willing herself to calm down. Part of her was still undeniably frustrated and tense, longing for more of your taste. But on the other hand, she knew she had to be thankful for this divine intervention.
She lost control. She just wanted a chance to talk to you, finally face you after she longed for you for months. As much as she tried to think about how she would love just another taste of you, she knew her control was slipping and there was a massive chance that she could have fully drained you.
Luckily, you were spared, saved even.
She stood up, ran a hand through her hair and headed to the vanity, staring at herself. Noticing her eyes had grown black. She took a deep breath, forced herself to relax and her eyes returned to its usual green hazelish color and her fangs fully retracted. She looked out at the bed, making a mental note of requesting a different room as soon as she heads back down, fully knowing she possibly couldn’t stay in a room that smelled like you.
As she finally fully calmed herself, Alexia let out a bitter laugh at herself and thought: What a horrible first impression.
next part ➜
a/n: just wanted to make it up to you guys for not posting and updating my fics in a while. anyway, if you want me to post the second part, just comment so i can tag u in it if ever. it's almost done but it needs polishing i guess? i'm not sure tho! just lmk! hope u guys like this!
song title inspired by this song btw. i made a vampire!alexia playlist ages ago too if u wanna check it out
As fans, it’s truly beautiful to see that for this seasons UWCL, the clubs home stadiums have been used more than previous years.
It shows that the womens game has grown so much and is here to stay.
The young players are seeing the stands of Camp Nou, Emirates, Allianz etc sold out which the older generation did not even dream of. They fought for a dream that had a moving goalpost and now, players like Williamson and Putellas can captain their childhood clubs in a sold out home stadium.
We’ve come a long way but there is still so much of this mountain to climb.
Let’s hope the next generation use this to their advantage and a motivation to be great.
I long to see the day when a child can say “I want to be like Alexia” or “I want to be Pernille Harder” without people being like “be the next Messi” or “who’s that?”
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