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Part 20 (Last Part)
You go to your cousins wedding in Spain, and you catch the eye of the Alexia Putellas, she unintentionally becomes your plus one
Wordcount: 7k
Other Parts
3 years later
The noise is deafening.
Confetti still drifting through the air, the Barcelona anthem echoing faintly through the stadium speakers as families begin to filter onto the pitch.
Your boys are heavy on your hips now, getting too big to carry both at once, but neither of them care about practicality and safety and will take off running the moment they get chance.
Your twin boys, Luca and Enzo were eighteen months old and already completely obsessed with football… or more specifically their mami.
You bounce Enzo slightly as Luca grips fistfuls of your shirt, both of their little Barcelona kits slightly too big on them, both with Mami 11 on the back.
You smile, walking with them out onto the pitch towards Alexia, your now wife, she’s still surrounded by teammates, medal around her neck, hair damp with sweat, glitter catching on her skin under the stadium lights.
You crouch down placing both boys on the floor and much to your surprise they don't instantly run away, crouched between the boys, turning them gently so they can see. “Who’s that?” you ask softly, pointing across the pitch. “Look… who’s that?”
Luca squints for half a second then his whole face lights up, “Mami!” he grins, immediately launching into his best attempt at running. Enzo follows with a delighted squeal, his little legs pumping as fast as they can carry him.
Patri notices first, nudging Alexia's shoulder and pointing, Alexia turns and her entire face changes, everything softens instantly.
She drops into a crouch without hesitation, arms opening wide waiting as the boys rush to her, both boys barrel into her chest at full speed.
“Oof—hola mis amores!” she laughs breathlessly, nearly knocked backwards as she gathers them up, kissing whatever she can reach, hair, cheeks, foreheads.
“Mami win!” Luca shouts proudly.
“Si! Mami!” Enzo echoes, clapping his hands.
She laughs again, pressing her forehead to theirs, then she looks up finds you walking towards them. Her smile shifts into something quieter, she raises as you get to her, you share a hug before she pulls back but pulls you back in to her by the back of your neck to kiss you properly.
Luca immediately grabs for the medal around her neck.
“Mine,” he declares with complete confidence.
Alexia laughs, carefully lifting it over her head and letting it drop around his much smaller one instead. It nearly reaches his stomach.
“Careful,” you tease, “he’s going to expect one every year now.”
“He already do,” Alexia replies easily, shifting Enzo higher on her hip when he starts trying to climb her like a tree.
“Mami trophy?” Enzo asks, pointing behind her where it’s still being passed around by teammates.
Alexia glances back at it, then down at him, “You want see?”
He nods so hard you’re surprised he doesn’t topple straight off her.
She takes both of them by the hands, walking them the few steps over. Someone spots her coming and immediately lowers it down with a grin.
“Careful,” you murmur again, though you’re smiling as she crouches beside it with them.
“This,” she tells them gently, tapping the side of it, “is Champions.”
“Champ-yons,” Luca repeats seriously whilst Enzo just pats it like it’s a dog.
You watch them for a second, watch her, the way she looks at them like this is the greatest thing she’s ever won. Not the Ballons d’Or, not the Champions Leagues, not the World Cup.
Your boys tug at her shirt again, “Mami up,” Luca demands.
She doesn’t even hesitate, lifting them both again with that same effortless strength, though she lets out a small, theatrical groan, “They get heavier every time I win,” she says.
“That’s because you keep winning,” you reply, Cata comes over grinning at Enzo hands to him, he instantly reaches for her and he's gone, Alexia puts Luca back down to see if he wanted to go play as she walks back to you then, settling into your space like she always does, you end up hanging back a little with Alexia, both of you watching as the boys are slowly but very surely absorbed into the team.
Enzo makes it his personal mission to do a full lap, every single one of them gets a turn. High fives on demand, little hands slapping against palms like it’s a contractual obligation. Someone spins him, someone else lifts him onto their shoulders, and his giggles echo out across the pitch as he gets passed between them like the world’s smallest mascot.
He is absolutely thriving.
Luca… Luca hangs back, he always does, he was your sensitive boy. Where Enzo runs headfirst into everything, Luca takes his time observing first, fingers curled into the hem of his shirt, eyes wide as he takes it all in.
But then Clara crouches down a few feet away, not calling him over, not reaching for him, just smiling gently.
He toddles towards her almost immediately, you’d noticed it when he was a baby. He’d fuss in everyone else’s arms squirm, whine, lip wobbling like he might cry but with Clara? He’d settle within seconds. Like something in him just recognised her calm.
She’s the same now, reserved, quiet, a steady presence in the chaos.
She sits cross legged on the grass, talking softly to him about absolutely nothing important by the looks of it and Luca climbs straight into her lap like it’s the most natural place in the world.
He likes that kind of attention, quiet and focused, just for him.
Meanwhile Enzo is currently being launched into the air by Patri with absolutely zero regard for your blood pressure.
Alexia winces slightly beside you when he shrieks with delight, “They no break him,” she says, though it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.
“He’s loving it,” you reply.
As if to prove your point, Cata grabs him next, settling him on her hip before Pina ruffles his hair, all three of them laughing when he demands “Again!”
Alexia huffs out a quiet laugh, her hand slipping into yours, “One like you,” she murmurs, nodding towards Enzo.
“And one like you,” you say softly, watching Luca as he rests his head briefly against Clara’s shoulder while she continues talking to him.
Alexia follows your gaze, her expression melts completely.
Luca was curled quietly into Clara’s side like he’s found his safe place when you hear boots thudding lightly across the grass.
“Oi!”
You glance up just in time to see Mapi jogging over, medal bouncing against her chest, grin already firmly in place.
Mapi León, she’s got something in each hand.
Two little flags, you squint both blaugrana, “Oh no,” you laugh under your breath as she skids to a stop in front of you, holding them up proudly. “Mapi, what have you done?”
“For the niños,” she says like it’s obvious, waving them slightly. “They need both, no?”
Alexia snorts beside you, Mapi crouches down first in front of Enzo who is currently trying to convince Patri to let him wear her medal too and hands him the Barcelona flag.
“For when Mami score at the next game,” she tells him, he takes it immediately.
“Score!” he repeats, already waving it dangerously close to Patri’s face.
“And this” Mapi turns, walking the few steps over to Clara, who looks up with a soft smile as Luca peers curiously at the second one. “For when Mama shout from the stands.”
Clara gently helps Luca take it, his small fingers curling around the stick as he looks between the two of you like he’s checking he’s allowed.
Your throat tightens slightly when he gives it a small, careful wave, Alexia notices too, her arm slips around your waist, pulling you in just a little closer as both boys stand on the pitch where she’s just won another Champions League.
“Luca,” you say, crouching down beside Mapi as she does the same. “How do you say thank you to Mapi?”
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, still clutching the little flag, eyes flicking between you and her, “Muchas gracias,” he says shyly.
Mapi immediately does an excited little clap, her whole face lighting up, Luca blinks, then smiles, clearly finding that reaction hilarious.
He reaches out, touching one finger gently to the tattoos on her hand, “Extranjera,” he says thoughtfully.
Mapi’s eyebrows shoot up, “Sí, extranjera,” she nods seriously, like he’s just made a very important observation.
She drops down to sit on the grass properly then, glancing up at you, “He talks so well.”
You nod, “Yeah, the words he does know, he knows in English, Spanish and Catalan. He’s obsessed with this book Alba got them about aliens at the minute.”
“Mummy alien,” Luca adds quietly.
You laugh, “Yeah, that’s a tattoo,” you explain, gesturing vaguely over your shoulder towards Alexia. “Like Mami has on her back.”
“Abuelo,” Luca says next.
“Yes,” you smile warmly. “Mami has Abuelo on her back, doesn’t she?" Mapi’s expression has gone dangerously soft now, “He’s our smart one,” you add. “He without any prompting speaks to me in English and Alexia in Spanish. It’s cute.”
A delighted shriek cuts through your sentence as Enzo goes barrelling past you at full speed, Cata chasing after him with his flag now tucked into the back of his shorts like a tail.
“Enzo!” you call uselessly, he does not stop, “On the other hand,” you continue dryly, watching as he trips, gets back up, and keeps running like nothing happened, “he’s always busy causing chaos.”
Mapi laughs, Alexia still standing a few feet away just shakes her head, “That one,” she mutters fondly, “is trouble.”
☀️
You hear the front door before you hear anything else.
Then, “Mami!”
It’s loud, overlapping. Slightly panicked in the way toddler voices get when they’re too excited to figure out who should speak first.
You’re upstairs, halfway through putting away washing that’s been sitting in the basket for two days, and you freeze for just a second when you hear it.
The thud of a bag hitting the floor. Alexia’s laugh, breathless and surprised, “Hola! Hola mis amores”
Tiny feet on hardwood, something falls over, Enzo’s unmistakable shriek of delight, “MAMI!”
You hear Alexia gasp as they hit her at full speed, “Oof, okay, okay, ven aquí—"
Luca’s quieter voice underneath it all, but no less desperate, “Mami home… mami home…”
You swallow, because she’s been gone two weeks.
Two weeks of FaceTimes where Enzo tried to show her his dinosaurs through the front camera and just filmed his own nose.
Two weeks of Luca asking every night, “Mami play tomorrow?”
Two weeks of doing bedtime alone.
Of cooking alone.
Of sleeping alone in a bed that’s suddenly too big.
Downstairs there’s chaos, little feet running, Alexia’s voice moving from room to room as they drag her somewhere probably to see whatever toy has become the most important thing in the world since she left.
“No, wait let me take shoes off, Enzo!” Giggles, then a crash.
You hear her laugh again, you don’t go down straight away, instead you sit on the edge of the bed for a second, listening to it, to them.
To her being back in the house in a way that FaceTime never quite captures. To the sound of your boys getting their mami back after counting down the days on a calendar they can’t read yet.
Your chest tightens, then you hear footsteps heading for the stairs, you hear the little stampede on the stairs.
“Mami carry!” Enzo demands loudly.
“I am carrying,” Alexia laughs, slightly out of breath. “You weigh like… elephant now.”
You smile to yourself as you keep folding the last few tiny shirts, stacking them neatly in the drawer. You could go out, you could meet them halfway, but you don’t, because you know the routine.
Two weeks away means she wants this part back, you hear their bedroom door open down the hall, “Shoes off,” Alexia says gently.
A thump, another thump, little shoes hitting the floor, “No nap,” Enzo protests immediately.
“Yes nap,” Alexia replies calmly.
“NO nap.”
You hear the soft rustle of clothes, probably her helping them into their sleep ones, “Luca,” she says more softly.
“Mami stay?” he asks quietly.
“Sí, cariño. I stay until you sleep.”
There’s a pause, then the soft creak of the bed as she sits between them. You’re still smiling as you slide the last folded shirt into place.
Through the wall you can hear her voice drop into that low, steady tone she only uses for them. “No talking now,” she murmurs. “Close eyes.”
“Story,” Enzo says hopefully.
“No story today. Today we sleep.”
A tiny yawn, you lean against the dresser, listening to the quiet settle.
A minute passes, maybe two, then, “Mami?”
“Yes?”
“I missed you.” Your chest tightens a little at Luca’s small voice.
Alexia doesn’t answer straight away but when she does, her voice is soft enough you almost miss it. “I miss you too.”
You hear a little rustle, like she’s leaning down to kiss his head, then silence again. The kind that means they’re almost asleep, you close the drawer quietly.
She still hasn’t come into the room you’re in, and you still haven’t gone to her. Not yet. Some reunions are loud, this one, you’re letting her have the quiet part first.
The house has gone quiet, that strange, fragile quiet that only exists when two toddlers have finally given in to sleep.
You’re just sliding the now empty laundry basket onto the floor when you hear soft footsteps in the hallway. Then the bedroom door opens slightly, Alexia pokes her head around it, dark hair a little messy from two weeks of travel and twenty minutes of toddler wrestling. Her eyes are immediately scanning the room until they land on you.
Her whole face softens as she smiles, “Hola, muppet.”
You laugh softly, “Hola.”
You don’t even think about it as she walks over to you, your arms slip easily around her neck, familiar and automatic, and hers wrap around your waist like she’s been waiting to do it all day.
Two weeks, and neither of you waste another second.
She pulls you closer and kisses you properly, warm and firm, like she’s making up for every FaceTime goodbye that wasn’t enough.
You hum against her lips, “Missed you,” you murmur when you finally pull back just enough to breathe.
“Mm,” she nods, brushing her nose against yours. “I know.”
Her hands tighten slightly at your waist, like she’s grounding herself.
“They asleep?” you ask quietly.
“Finally.” She exhales, shoulders dropping for the first time since she walked in the door.
Then she leans forward again, stealing another kiss and another, because after two weeks away, apparently she’s making up for everything all at once.
She nudges you backward until your back hits the dresser, hands insistent under the hem of your shirt. Her palms are warm and familiar. God, you’ve missed the way she maps your skin like she’s reading braille. Your hips are already tilting toward her, greedy and undignified, but you don’t care. She knows you too well.
Alexia kisses you again, but this time her hand slides under your waistband, knuckles grazing your stomach, slipping lower. You gasp an actual cartoon gasp, embarrassing and she grins against your mouth. She’s not gentle, not after two weeks. Fingers find your clit and circle, press, just like she knows you like. It’s not even about getting you off, really, it’s about the proof of presence, the urgency, the way you can’t help but melt for her.
It’s obscene, how fast she gets you there. One hand flat against your ribs, anchoring you, the other working inside your underwear. You clutch at her hair, that ridiculous, beautiful mane you’ve missed clogging the shower drain, and you bite her lip because you need something to bite. You’re half laughing, half moaning, hoping the kids are out cold and also fifty percent certain you don’t care.
She presses harder, and you’re gone, knees knocking the dresser, mouth open against her shoulder. She holds you through it, lets you ride it out against her hand, only pulling back when your shudders have turned to giggles.
“Jesus,” you mutter, “welcome home?”
Alexia smirks and wipes her hand on your thigh, “Muppet,” she says, and kisses you on the forehead, like you’re something precious and ridiculous all at once.
Your knees are jelly, and your head is still floating, but you reach for her, because two weeks is a long time. She lets you pull her back in, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis, You bite your lower lip, finger running down her stomach, and look up through your lashes with the smile that always makes her breath catch. "Is that all your wife is getting after two weeks away?" you ask, your voice dropping to that husky register that belongs only to her.
Alexia doesn’t answer, just cocks her eyebrow and, maintaining eye contact, opens the top drawer of the dresser and produces the harness in one lazy, declarative swoop. She dangles it from her fingers and lets the expectation hang in the air a beat longer than you can stand.
You grin, a bit breathless, and ease her shorts down her hips, thumb tracing the sharp line of her thigh as you kneel. Your knees hit the hardwood, and she’s already stripping out of her shirt, bare from the waist up in two practiced movements. She steps out of the shorts with a little flourish, toes wiggling, then plants her foot on the rung of the bed frame, all challenge and grin.
“Go on, then,” she says, voice low. “You know how.”
You do. You take in the sight of her, tongue darting out to wet your lips as you kiss her pubic bone, slow and reverent, just to make her laugh. She does a little huff through the nose, the one that means she’s trying not to smile too wide. You lick a stripe up her folds, just to be extra, and she groans, head tipping back.
She shudders when your tongue circles her exposed clit, still watching you through half lidded eyes, and you love her so much you could combust. When she’s had enough of being worshipped, she tugs the harness on, buckles it on with a practiced flick, and stands up straight, arms braced on her hips.
You nuzzle against her thigh, then mouth the length of the strap, biting down playful and sharp, and she pulls you up, mouth catching yours at a weird angle, teeth clacking in a way that would be embarrassing if it was anyone else. You chase her back until her knees hit the mattress, and she goes down with you on top, the harness grinding against your stomach, her hands already parting your thighs.
She doesn’t even take her time. She lines up and pushes in, and you gasp, the stretch a shock after two weeks’ drought, but she’s talking to you the whole time, Spanish and English tangled up and hot in your ear.
“Still so tight for me, mi amor.” She kisses your collarbone, the underside of your jaw, all the little places that make you shiver. “You want it?” she teases, and you bite your lip, nodding, and she pulls back and thrusts again, harder this time, and it’s like a wire inside you snaps taut.
You ride her, rolling your hips just so, and she’s got her hand on your arse, pulling you down onto her with every thrust. The burn is perfect, and you chase it, one hand braced on her chest, the other tangled in her hair as you both get loud enough that you’re actually a little worried about the kids. Alexia seems to realise it at the same time and clamps her hand over your mouth, laughing against your shoulder.
“Shhh,” she whispers, “shhh,” and then bites your earlobe for emphasis. The sting, the muffled laugh, the command it all piles up until you’re wild for her, rutting shamelessly, clenching around nothing and everything.
She flips you, just throws her weight and suddenly you’re on your back, legs splayed, the harness pressing in relentless. She pins your wrists and fucks you with a rhythm that’s more demand than question, all slick slap and the headboard rapping the wall. You try to tell her she’s going to break the frame, but all that comes out is a whine.
You could get off on this alone, the push and pull, the muscle and intent, but she knows you need more. She slips her fingers down, thumb finding you, and rubs in tight, dirty circles while she thrusts. It’s obscene how fast you come, how hard, how completely she wrings it out of you. You twist against the sheets, mouth open, probably pooling, but she doesn’t let up. Not for a second.
When you whimper, when your hips twitch and your legs clamp around her waist, she finally slows. Leans in, tongue flicking the sweat from your collarbone, and whispers, “That’s my girl.” She pulls out slow, careful, then flips you again, all strong arms and purpose, and pushes your face into the pillow.
You surrender. You’re limp as seaweed, boneless and sated, but she’s not done. She tastes you from behind, tongue greedy and hot, and you want to protest, you want to say you can’t possibly come again, but she’s the boss of your body now. So you let her, let her work you open and coax out every last tremor, until you’re reduced to a series of high, breathy noises you’ve never made before.
You come again, an echo of the first, but sweeter, more ridiculous. She finally lets you up for air, and you collapse together, sticky and shaking, hair a wild mess, your limbs hopelessly tangled. The room smells like sex and sweat and the faintest ghost of baby powder from the next room.
You don’t move for a while. You don’t have to. She’s spooning you from behind, palm splayed over your heart, thumb stroking your ribs in a gentle counterpoint to the way she just brutalized you.
Finally, she murmurs, “You alive there, muppet?”
You manage a sound. Maybe words, maybe not.
“Didn’t think you still had it in you, old lady,” she teases, and you elbow her in the ribs, and she laughs, and it’s the best sound in the world.
You float there, in the afterglow, until the cry of “Mama!” interrupts, sharp and sweet and unmistakable, just as your hand had wandered to her clit.
Alexia groans and rolls onto her back. “They sense this I swear. They always do.”
You snicker, pulling the covers over yourself. “It’s like they have a sixth sense for cockblocking.”
She grins, kisses the back of your neck, and says, “Next time, I’m tying you up and gagging you.”
You believe her, with every fibrous muscle in your legs, you believe her.
You’re about to protest, to suggest mutual bribery with chocolate chip pancakes or some other unholy breakfast for dinner treat, when Enzo’s voice shouts out again, with the distinct wobble of tears. “Mama! MAMA!”
Alexia, who is still naked except for the harness, groans theatrically. “I’m coming, baby! Mami is coming!” Then, in a much lower voice, just for you, “Mami’s always coming.” She winks, and stands up, already plotting her next move.
You watch her grab her robe and tie it tight, the picture of maternal devotion if maternal devotion included faint teeth marks on her neck and a silicone cock hid underneath it. You snort, smother it in a pillow, and let her march off to address the sudden toddler emergency.
The house is quiet again, for all of seven seconds. Then Alexia reappears, peeking back into the bedroom with her eyebrows arched and mouth pulled into a sheepish twist. “They want you,” she says, like it’s a medical diagnosis.
You stare at the ceiling, dumbfounded. “Me? I’m normally cast aside for at least three days when you come back. They treat you like the messiah and I’m chopped liver.”
Alexia shrugs, feigning innocence. “They heard you,” she says. “You were…screaming.” She tries, really valiantly, to keep a straight face. “They worried.”
You flush, then throw a pillow at her, half mortified and half wanting to laugh yourself sick. She cackles, dodges the pillow expertly, and disappears down the hallway, calling out in her softest, most soothing voice, “It’s okay, boys. Mama is coming!”
You lay there, the air thick with sweat and the lingering echo of your wife’s name screamed just a little too loud. You imagine Enzo, hair tousled and eyes wide, demanding reassurance that the monsters in his dreams haven’t gotten you, that you haven’t disappeared, that Mami can always find Mama even when Mama is hiding under a mountain of sheets and three orgasms.
For a minute, you think about just not moving. Just letting yourself be absorbed into the sheets, dissolving into a puddle of post coital dormancy. But the siren call of “Mama!” repeats, this time with a hint of rising panic Enzo is nothing if not persistent.
You gather yourself, limbs reluctantly obeying, and shuffle into the hallway. Alexia is already there, a living, breathing buffer between you and the two tiny monsters.
Enzo sees you and immediately beams, launching himself into your arms with full force, fuelled by adrenaline and existential terror.He clings to you, arms and legs wrapped in a desperate koala hug, cheek pressed to your collarbone. “Don’t leave,” he says, voice muffled, and you realise the depth of toddler devotion is rivalled only by its volatility.
“I’m here,” you say, smoothing a hand over his sweat damp hair. “Always here, Enzo.”
Alexia, who’s taken charge of the calmer Luca, sits him on her hip. “Did you have bad dreams, mi pequeño?”
Luca blinks, considering the question, then nods theatrically. “I thought there was a bear in the house, Mami!”
You lock eyes with Alexia over the boys’ heads. Her eyebrows do a little samba of amusement, “Bears, huh?”
“Yeah,” Enzo sniffs, “it made Mama scream your name Mami.”
You nearly choke on your own giggle, “Ok and what do we do when there’s a bear?”
Enzo perks up, already in performance mode, “We dance!”
Alexia kisses the crown of Luca’s head, “We dance, and we sing, and we tell the bear to go away.”
The ‘Bear Song’ is ninety seconds of you and Alexia doing synchronised stomping and clapping while the boys run in literal circles, shrieking with delight. You do it three times in a row before anyone is convinced of their safety, which is to say, before the bear in question is thoroughly vanquished and all lingering toddler terror replaced by a healthy thirst for apple juice.
You settle the boys back in their beds, trading off whispered reassurances and shushes until the silence returns, shaky but holding. You close the boys bedroom door with the delicacy of a bomb technician.
Alexia is leaning against the hallway wall, arms folded, lips pursed in the way that means she’s trying to look serious but is actually enchanted with you. “You’re such a softie, Mama Bear.”
You roll your eyes and poke her in the ribs, right where you know she’s ticklish. “And whose idea was it to teach them the Bear Song?”
She shrugs, unrepentant, “It’s a classic.”
You don’t let her flee back to the bedroom. You snag her by the robe belt, and say, “Wait. I got you a present. But it’s in your office.” There’s a glimmer in her eye, equal parts suspicion and delight that tells you she’s game for whatever comes next.
She feigns wariness, clutching the lapels close, and follows you down the hall, the hitch in her walk all post coital satisfaction and nothing to apologise for. Her office is a repurposed sunroom, desk littered with manuscript pages, annotated game film, and the coffee mug she keeps threatening to throw at the pigeons outside.
You lean in the doorway, arms crossed, and nod at the desk, “Check your desk.”
Alexia eyes you, then the desk, and with a theatrical sigh digs through the stack of bills, preschool flyers, and cryptic sticky notes to uncover a plastic sandwich bag containing very obviously five pregnancy tests. The kind you’d ordered in bulk, on principle, after your last round of IVF. The kind you’d sworn you wouldn’t touch for two weeks, but had, in fact, started peeing on at seven days post transfer.
She picks up the baggie, holds it like it’s a new and slightly worrying species of orchid, and squints at the results. Two, then three, then all five. “Wait. Is this—?”
“That's not morning pee, either,” you say, all false bravado.
For a second, she is stock still. You see her reading and rereading the blue lines, the little plus signs, one for each stick. Her mouth opens and closes, once, twice, and then she comes alive, crossing the space in a flash, the harness robe forgotten, grabbing you around the waist. She’s laughing and crying at the same time, her face against your neck, damp and warm.
“You’re pregnant??” she says, voice muffled by your shoulder.
You nod, and she makes a noise you’ve only ever heard after Champions League wins or those sappy animal rescue videos.
“Holy shit,” she says, “holy shit, you did it. We did it.” She kneels, hands on your hips, forehead pressed to your belly, like she’s waiting to be knighted by your tiny, cellular passenger.
You pet her hair, soft and reverent, she grins up, the happiest, goofiest grin no pretence, no smugness, just wonder. You laugh, suddenly so tired, so relieved, “Third kid,” you say, “we’re officially outnumbered.”
She stands up staring deep into your eyes, “Think we can handle it?”
You consider, “I mean, we already have one feral child and one actual angel. Statistically, the third will be a raccoon.”
She snorts, then kisses your lips, and for a moment you’re just there, in the sunlit mess of the home you built, Alexia runs her fingers over your still flat stomach, “Let’s not give your mama a hard time like your brothers did kiddo” You whisper it as her lips brush your shoulder, “I’m scared.” Not of the third kid, well, not only that but of everything that happened before. The memory of Enzo and Luca’s first days, the rush of code blue, the surgical lights, and Alexia’s voice stretched thin and panicked over the rattle of your own bones as the world threatened to go silent.
She knows. Of course she knows. She pulls you tighter, thumb still lazily stroking your ribs, but her voice is suddenly serious, the way it only gets when you are spiralling and she’s the only rope in the well “Hey,” she says, and waits until you look up, really look. “It’s not going to go like it did with the boys.”
You want to believe her. Maybe you do. Maybe you’re just scared of believing, and then having it all shredded again. But Alexia is relentless, on the pitch, in the kitchen, in bed, in loving you and she doesn’t let you bail out.
She kisses your palm, presses it to her own heart, and recounts every appointment, every specialist, every precaution you’ve already taken. “We know more. We can plan. And if we need to, I’ll storm the fucking hospital with a militia of lesbian aunties and rescue you myself.”
You laugh, half sob, but it helps. That’s the magic of her, she makes hope sound like certainty.
“We can do this,” she says, a gentle but unyielding order. “YOU can do this.”
You believe her, at least enough to leave your hand on her chest, feeling the steady pound of her heart. For a minute, you are quiet together, just breathing, and the stability of it is a small miracle.
Her finger traces the silvery line below your navel, that emergency c-section scar a seven inch seam where they'd unzipped you like a duffel bag two years ago. It's faded now, a pale whisper against your skin, but still raised enough to catch the pad of her thumb. "I know when you look at this, you see the hospital ceiling, the panic in the room," she murmurs, her touch warm against the numb ridge of tissue. "But when I look at it, I see strength. You brought our two babies into this world."
She leans in until her forehead touches yours, her voice a hush meant only for you and the unmade fragments still catching at your ribs.
"You are the bravest person I’ve ever met," she says, like it's science and not up for debate. "I will not let anything happen to you. Not again."
You nod, tears pricking your eyes, but you’re not sad, not exactly. It's just that sometimes love is so preposterously big and sharp that the only thing your body knows to do is leak from the face.
Alexia presses her lips to your temple, then your nose, then the corner of your mouth, mapping all the coordinates of this new, post-news terrain. She grins against your cheek, and the energy shift is so sudden and so her that you almost laugh. "Is this why you’ve been eating buttered noodles straight from the pot when I was FaceTiming you?" she asks, all mock scandalised.
"That, and the cheese." You wipe your face with the heel of your hand, trying to own it. "Also I’ve been craving beef jerky, which is weird because I haven’t even liked beef jerky since high school—"
She cuts in, affronted. "Excuse me. You did not have a beef jerky phase. You’re supposed to be the sophisticated one."
You gesture at the test sticks with a flourish. "Well. Clearly, I am now a vessel for primal urges and questionable sodium levels. It can’t be helped."
Alexia laughs, a real, rolling belly laugh that bounces off the glass walls and makes you feel weightless in its wake. She lifts you half onto the desk, scattering an avalanche of paper, and kisses you with all the new, tender certainty of this next, wild round.
When you break apart, she wraps both arms around you in a bear hug that’s careful of your stomach, just as it’s always been careful of all the tenderest parts of you. "I love you," she says. It's only three words, but it feels like the start of the rest of the world.
For a long minute, the house is totally still again no stampede, no chaos, just the kinetic hum of your own nervous systems balancing out. You think if you close your eyes, you might be able to feel the tiniest new pulse inside you, echoing in time with your wife's.
You’re still perched like a sitcom extra on the desk when you hear Luca’s cautious footsteps and his tiny voice from the hallway, "Are the bears gone, Mami?"
Alexia doesn’t break eye contact. "The bears are gone, mi pequeño," she calls, then mouths to you, "for now."
Alexia drops into a crouch and scoops Luca onto her hip, balancing his sleepy, heavy warmth with the easy grace of someone who’s spent half her life holding a ball and the other half holding babies. She brings him right to you, where you’re still half-on, half-off the desk, your feet dangling and your hands suddenly very uncertain.
“Hey, peque,” she says, her voice gone extra syrupy, “Can you keep a secret for Mami?”
Luca blinks, then gives the solemn, wide-eyed nod of an 18-month-old who already knows the weight of grown-up conspiracies. His fingers fist in Alexia’s robe, then reach for you, sticky and insistent, like he knows this is about you and he’s determined to be included.
Alexia leans in, Luca’s ear almost at your mouth, and you try to remember how to use your voice. “Mama has a baby in her belly,” she says, and the words are less a bombshell than a gentle, irrefutable fact.
Luca stares at you, eyes round and dark, then at your stomach. He pokes your shirt, testing the fabric, then looks up at Alexia, demanding confirmation.
“Es verdad,” Alexia says, grinning so wide you think her face might crack. “You’re going to be a big brother.”
Luca turns the information over like a Rubik’s cube. Finally he pats your stomach, then points a chubby finger at his own belly, like, solidarity, Mama.
You want to say something profound or at least comforting, but all that comes out is a little choked laugh.
Enzo appears at the door, blinking like he’s coming out of anaesthesia, hair sticking up like a loofah. He sees Luca on Alexia’s hip, sees you, and then immediately makes a beeline for your lap, wriggling up to claim territory with a proprietary “My Mama.” You stifle another laugh as Alexia pulls him close with her free arm, both boys now sandwiched between you, hot and heavy and still radiating the aftershock of their own nightmares.
Alexia looks at you over their heads, eyes shining with mischief. “Enzo, do you know what’s in Mama’s belly?”
Enzo considers, lips pursed, then leans his head on your chest, as if listening for an answer by osmosis. He looks up, meets your eyes, and with the certainty of a prophet announces, “Sister.”
You snort. Alexia snorts harder, and Enzo looks briefly offended until you kiss the top of his head and say, “Maybe, love. Maybe.” He nods, smug in the accuracy of his pronouncement, and snuggles in deeper.
Luca looks like he might have more to say, but instead plants his entire palm square on your stomach, as if something inside might press back. For a moment, you think about what it would be to add another heartbeat to this chaos, to hear a third shriek in the night, to divvy up love and snacks and sticker charts three ways instead of two.
Alexia tickles the underside of Luca’s chin. “If it is a girl, what will we call her?”
Enzo perks up instantly, as if he’s been waiting his whole life to be consulted on nomenclature. “Dinosaur,” he says, gesturing at the dinosaur decal on the wall. “Sister Dinosaur.” He seems to find this answer both logical and wildly amusing.
Alexia’s face splits into a lopsided grin. “That’s a good name, Enzo, but maybe we’ll think of a few more.”
Luca, not to be left out, babbles something that sounds like “Baba,” and Alexia translates, “Luca says he wants to call her Baby.” She kisses both boys on the temple, then kisses you, warm and deliberate.
Enzo and Luca melt into you, lulled by the double comfort of your arms and the certainty that the bear situation is, for the moment, under control. You breathe, really breathe, for the first time since the test sticks lined up like tiny soldiers on Alexia’s desk.
Alexia hands off Luca to you and gently, carefully, peels Enzo from your lap so she can scoop both boys up at once. She carries them, one on each hip, down the hall, narrating the journey in her best play-by-play, “And here we see the wild twins, returning to their den…” Their laughter echoes, not like a threat, but like a promise.
You follow, slow and steady, to the play room. Your hand drifts to your stomach, palm flat and tentative. Maybe, if you’re lucky, the next few months will be mostly this, laughter, chaos, the sweet pain of too small arms clamped around your neck.
Enzo is already mid story about something involving dinosaurs and bears and possibly Patri. Luca has his thumb in his mouth again but is watching you with that serious, thoughtful expression he gets when he’s processing something big.
Alexia sets them down on the playroom rug, “Okay,” she says softly, clapping her hands once like she does before training drills. “We make plan.”
Enzo immediately claps too, “Plan!”
Luca sits cross legged, eyes flicking from Alexia to you and then most importantly back to your stomach. Alexia drops down beside them and gestures toward you with theatrical seriousness.
“So,” she says, lowering her voice like this is the most important team talk of her career. “Mama has baby in belly.”
Enzo nods confidently, “Sister.”
“Yes, yes, we hear your prediction,” Alexia says, amused. “But now we discuss responsibilities.”
That word means absolutely nothing to them, but the tone has both boys leaning in.
“You two,” she continues, pointing between them, “are big brothers now. Very important job.”
Enzo puffs his chest out immediately, “I big boy!”
Luca nods solemnly beside him, still staring at your stomach like he’s waiting for it to answer back.
Alexia gestures again, “What do big brothers do?”
Enzo thinks very hard. Then announces, “Share snacks.”
You laugh, “That’s actually a very good start,” you say.
Alexia presses her lips together like she’s trying not to smile too wide, “Yes. Share snacks. Also—help Mama.”
“Help Mama,” Luca echoes quietly.
“And protect baby from bears,” Enzo adds very seriously.
Alexia nods like that’s the most logical point so far, “Exactly.”
He looks extremely satisfied with himself. Luca crawls closer to you then, resting his head gently against your stomach, “Baby sleeping?” he asks softly.
“Probably,” you tell him, brushing his hair back.
Alexia watches the two of you for a moment, something warm and awed settling across her face again.
Three years ago it had been a conversation in a quiet room about maybe someday.
Now it’s this, two toddlers arguing about snack distribution and bear defence while a third little life grows quietly in the middle of it all.
Enzo suddenly stands up, “I show baby dinosaurs,” he declares, already running toward the toy box.
Alexia sighs fondly, “Yes,” she says, leaning back on her hands and watching him go. “That will be very educational.”
You catch her eye across the room, she smiles at you soft, a little stunned, a little proud.
Then she says quietly, mostly to herself, “This house is going to be chaos.”
You grin. “It already is.”
And down the hallway Enzo shouts triumphantly
“BABY DINOSAUR COMING!”
If Barça lost today, it was entirely my fault for wearing the shirt 🥀
Face reveal!
Hi! How are you? I hope you're all doing well, my loves.
I'm just popping in to tell you two things.
First, I'll be taking down most or all of the stories I've uploaded. I'm only doing this to review them again, and then I'll re-upload them. I'm sorry to have to do this, but I feel like many of them don't make much sense anymore.
Second, I got a message saying you want to read more about Alpha Beth and Alpha Viv with Omega Reader, so I've been thinking about it and maybe I'll create some kind of universe around them. I was thinking of making Reader Ffion Morgan's sister; I don't know what you all think.
I'm working on developing another idea I've had lately, so I've been writing more lately, and I've also been trying to continue Alexia's story.
That's all, my loves. Take care, and I'll see you around. Love you all, xoxo
Nooooo maldito Héctor cuando lo cojaaaa😡🤬🤬
Espero que Lucy esté en el Chelsea y cuide de yn. Que se haga ahí una estrella y las noruegas (y frido) averigüen que ha pasado.
-🦈
It was difficult for me to answer this because I completely forgot the timeline I'm following, but if I'm not mistaken, she went on loan to Chelsea for the 2018/2019 season.
Her refuge during that season was Bethany England and Fran Kirby, players Lucy had previously introduced her to during a visit to her national teammates at Lyon.
Although I think that's fine, I don't quite remember if I specified the years or not. I'll check again, and if there's an error, I'll change it.
I don’t know much but can something bad happen to an alpha in “your reflection my secret” reader’s situation?
I suppose these aren't very obvious things, besides the psychological damage R had to endure after her omega abandoned her.
One of the main issues is the control she should have as an alpha. Her nature is to protect, claim, and anticipate things, but because of what happened years ago, R is now often hyper-vigilant (especially with Mia) and also carries alpha guilt, that feeling of failure even though it wasn't entirely her fault, nor did she have a choice.
It also damaged her in terms of bonding. Now it's much harder for R to form an alpha-omega bond, and Alexia's scent can also deregulate her. R is afraid to claim another omega, thinking that in the future they will do the same thing to her as Alexia did.
I was rereading the series and omg reader never had a happy moment 😭. Alexia telling her those horrible things about how she is a pathetic alpha. How the team is treating her, although that’s Hector’s fault, who I think won’t stop there, if he has the power to organise that he can do more shady things for sure.
-🦈
My girl just wants to have a normal life after her omega left her. Alexia has always lacked good communication skills and tact when saying things.
The Barcelona girls had already accepted her as one of the pack, it's a shame that Hector still exists.
Perhaps Hector will interfere more in her life, who knows?
Thanks for continuing to read!
Uuuhg I want a gf so bad, or am I just feeling nostalgic? I don't know, I just want a girl to cuddle up with when I fall asleep
Me ha encantado, me daba pena que se terminase porque quería seguir leyendo.
Cada parte creo que supera mis expectativas y es más increíble que la anterior.
Me ha parecido adorable la relación entre Mia y R, se nota que tienen esa conexión.
Alexia necesita que alguien le diga paso a paso como tener una relación cordial con R, no podría ser más incomodo porque no puede, y tendría que haber dicho algo acerca del parentesco entre ambas, en vez de quedarse callada. Porque el día en el que lo haga se va a armar una pelea seguro.
Y ahora si,petición/permiso para inflar a golpes al idiota ese. ¿QUIÉN se cree que es?.
De verdad me he cogido unos nervios.
Creo q R va a necesitar ayuda psicológica porque la pobre no sale de un problema para meterse en otro.
Me alegro que te haya gustadooo, intenté hacer lo posible por desarrollar más está parte por qué no se cuándo subiré una siguiente parte 🫂
R siempre quiso un bebé, así que suele ser muy dulce con los niños, aunque al principio no sepa cómo acercarse a ellos
Mi amiga Alexia tiene serios problemas en cuanto a solución de problemas, o para tomar buenas decisiones, pero pronto aprenderá y cambiará eso 🫡
TIENES TODO MI PERMISO, YO ODIO A HÉCTOR. Mientras lo escribía realmente sentí ganas de putearlo, es un desgraciadooo
Y si amiguiñe, lo más probable es que R se consiga un psicólogo, todo lo malo le ocurre y cuando cree que una herida se cerró llega algo mucho peor a demostrarle que la herida no está cerrada
Cuídate! Y gracias por el mensaje ❤️🩹 besos y abrazos
Poor timing - part 3
☆ Summary: You are dating Alexia, but your sister, Clara, doesn't know yet. When she comes home early from a sleepover, she walks in on something she definitely wasn't meant to see… and won't forget anytime soon.
☆ Word count: 8.5K
☆ Warnings: (+18) SMUT, strapping (r giving), boob sucking (r receiving), just lots of fluff between those two, Ale being clingy, and Clara finally her puppy... but oh no! you are scared of dogs!
☆ A/n: you can find the other parts here
You woke up but couldn't open your eyes right away. The only thing you felt was the weight of Alexia's arm resting across your waist.
For a moment, still half-asleep, everything felt perfect, exactly how it was supposed to be, just as you had imagined it when you called Alexia last night, asking her to spend the night.
But then, the memories of what happened hours ago came rushing back, and you groaned; the sound made your throat hurt, triggering vivid flashbacks of you being on your knees for her, right here, in this very same room.
Alexia had been right after all; your throat was sore. You hated it when she was right; you much preferred it when she was in the wrong.
Ugh.
You turned to your side, trying to open your eyes, but they still felt stuck, like the lids were glued together by a mischievous poltergeist that wished to deny you a vision of a sleeping Alexia.
When you tried again and failed in the process, you gave up and let the darkness linger a bit more, choosing to enjoy the lack of vision to focus on others' senses.
Your mouth still tasted faintly of the mint toothpaste you had used before bed, and your tongue felt raspy and rough with thirst. You could smell the eucalyptus fabric softener of your duvet mixed with Alexia's natural scent, a hint of sweat from the warm night and the residual fragrance of her honey shampoo.
Alexia. Alexia. Alexia.
Her hand was cupping your breast, but the lack of movement, no thumb brushing over your nipple like she usually did, told you she was still completely asleep.
You shifted your head, nuzzling your cheek against her shoulder blade, taking in her scent, before rolling onto your back, freeing yourself from her touch. You rubbed your eyes with your index fingers, a habit that, as a doctor, you knew was bad, but it was a good strategy when sleep was clinging to you this stubbornly.
When your vision finally cleared, the lightning from the windows became more visible, and so did Alexia's sleeping figure. Her mouth was slightly open, and her hair was a complete mess; you felt a sudden urge to brush it.
You sat up, tempted to just lie back down again beside her instead because your body felt too heavy and hers too welcoming.
You look over your shoulder, your gaze falling over Alexia once again.
You didn't quite know what to do now; it wasn't common for you to wake up and find her still there, but you found yourself cherishing the novelty of it.
As if your gaze had been disturbing her dreams, she stirred, her eyes blinked open, and a sleepy pout tugged at her lips.
"Mhm… hi," she murmured, her voice hoarse.
"Good morning," you said softly.
You brushed your palm over her thigh, feeling the fine hairs stand up on end beneath your touch. With a lazy smile, you shift to sit atop Alexia, and as soon as your thighs straddle her waist, her hands instinctively found your hips.
"How did you sleep?"
Even with the pillow creases pressed into her face, Alexia managed to look smug as she grinned up at you "With you sleeping half-naked beside me? Like an angel."
You rolled your eyes. She was very cheesy when she wanted to be.
"Tell me what time it is?" she asked, still groggy, but there was a familiar mischief in her voice.
You glanced at the clock on the bedside table, "Six-thirty."
"So…" she began, her hands sliding higher from your hips to your ribs. "Technically, we can have sex today. We promised not to have sex yesterday, and yesterday is officially gone."
You smiled, leaning down towards her. "Are you really trying to find loopholes in my sister's requests?"
"She's sleeping, isn't she?" Alexia whispered, and, before you could answer, she caught you by surprise, her palm spreading across your back to pull you down.
Your body leaned firmly against hers, leaving you perfectly positioned for her to take your breasts into her mouth.
She closed her eyes, wrapping her lips around your nipples as her cheeks hollowed, settling into a slow rhythm of sucking.
Your nipple brushed the top of her palate, and she continued to suckle, harder now; the soft sound she was making felt almost forbidden in the quiet room.
"Ale…" you moaned quietly, trying to keep the sound in your throat.
You were extremely aware of the thin walls of your flat and of the fact that your sister was sleeping just down the hall… she didn't need to be traumatised a second time.
Alexia eventually let go of your breast, leaving a red mark around on your breasts, but she didn't look guilty for it, not one bit.
She looked up at you with big, almost eager, eyes. "You know," she murmured. "I didn't get one single orgasm yesterday… no one."
"Oh no, pobrecita," you teased, your voice dropped as you sat up straight in her lap. [poor thing]
You peppered her face with light kisses while her hands found your breasts, massaging them very gently. "We can't have that, can we? Not when you work so hard all week."
Alexia nodded, her pout deepening, making her lips look pinker than they were.
"Si, I work very hard, you are right," she mumbled. " I think I deserve one. Maybe… you should do something about it…?"
You let out a condescending hum. "Is this your way of asking me to stop?"
"Maybe," Alexia murmured. "… please?"
It always baffled you how smoothly Alexia could transition from dominant to pliant.
You, on the other hand, struggled to follow orders or to fully bottom; you were always caught between the two states, and it took you a very specific mindset for you to simply receive. Alexia had to have the patience of a saint to hold you there.
"You wait here, then, yeah?" You whispered in her ear before kissing her cheek.
Alexia nodded again, very obediently. "Uhum."
You gave one last kiss on her nose before sliding off the bed and walking over to the dresser. You took the strap, adjusting the harness around your hip and moving your body to ensure the fit was right.
You scanned the drawer, grabbed the lube and coated the silicone before putting it back and shutting the drawer.
Alexia was lying exactly where you had left her.
You wondered briefly if she ever wished you were more like her - more trusting, more of a rule follower, instead of someone who felt the need to question everything, even during sex. You pushed the thought aside. Right now, Alexia was the only thing that mattered.
Without a word, she spread her legs for you (like a very good girl), and you slotted yourself between them.
You smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, as her hands came to rest on your hips. You let your weight settle on top of her, the strap pressing deliciously against her underwear.
"I fear we are becoming boring, Ale" you whispered against the curve of her neck. She moaned at the brief brush of air on her skin.
You smiled at the sound and moved your hand beneath the waistband of her underwear. She wasn't quite as wet as you would like yet, so you focused your index and middle finger on her clit, circling it in the way you knew she loved.
"Why boring?" She asked, already a little breathless. "After what happened last night, I-I believe we have had the adrenaline rush of a lifetime."
You chuckled, trailing kisses down her throat, only to find her shirt annoyingly in the way. You pulled it over her head quickly, leaving her nearly bare beneath you.
Your fingers kept massaging her clit as her hips began to lift, searching for more of you.
"We always do missionary," you said, kissing her chest as you tugged her damp underwear down her legs and tossed it somewhere across the room. "Every single time."
"That's hardly a problem," Alexia mumbled, her breath catching just as you positioned the strap against her and slid in easily. "Ooh-"
"fuck, amor-" She closed her eyes, her mouth forming in a perfect o.
You watched her face, completely captivated, as you picked up the pace of your hips, searching for a steady rhythm that wouldn't make the bed knock against the wall, all for your sister's sanity.
"Yeah? I'm that good?" You murmured near her ear, leaning down until your breasts rubbed together; the friction was perfect.
"Si," she nodded, her hand cupping the back of your head to pull you down against her. "V-very good."
You rested your head on her shoulder, your body pressed against her as you kept thrusting. "And you are very sweet to let me know that."
Alexia was so wet, her pussy was snug and warm and perfect around your strap. Suddenly, a pang of guilt hit you; you had been so stressed the night before that you hadn't considered how Alexia was feeling, about how you weren't the only one who had gone two weeks without proper release.
She really deserved this, to be taken care of.
"I'm going to make you cum really nice for me, baby, okay?" You said, your words muffled against her skin. "You truly deserve it."
"Por favor," she whined. "I-I want it-" [Please]
Oh, your poor, patient girl.
"Shh, it's okay" you kissed her temple, gripping her hips to move both of you to the centre of the mattress, where you could move faster without worrying about the bed making a sound. "I've got you, just take it."
Your hips began working faster, driving the strap deeper. Your hand found her clit once again, touching her often until she was a beautiful mess of limbs beneath you.
Without warning, her body went rigid.
She clutched your arm so tightly you knew it would leave marks, her mouth falling open in silence as she orgasmed all over you.
Thankfully, she was able to keep all her noises to herself as she rode out her high, slowly melting into the duvet and finding her way back to you.
You murmured sweet praise into her ear, slowing your pace but not stopping.
You supported yourself on your elbows and looked down at her while your free hand soothed her hip, calming her down, appreciating the view.
Her eyes stayed closed, her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, a tint only her skin ever seemed to take. If you searched hard enough, could you find a lipstick in that same tone? You would love to walk around with a piece of Alexia on your lips.
As you looked at her, you wished to be locked inside the room with Alexia for the rest of the year. No more stupid football, no more stupid shift, no more interruptions, just you, Alexia, and this bed.
Alexia made a sound you couldn't quite comprehend, pulling you out of your thoughts.
"What baby? What did you say?" You asked, pecking her lips.
"It's hurting now," she mumbled, a small pout forming as she gently pushed at your shoulders. "I don't want it anymore, too sensitive."
You swiftly slid the strap out of her and moved to your side, urging her into a cuddle.
She manoeuvred her body close and wrapped her arms around your torso, resting her head on your chest. You fumbled awkwardly with the harness, but managed to pull it off and let the strap fall to the floor.
"You get so clingy after you cum," you teased, your fingers gently massaging her scalp. "It's cute."
"Mm, I learned it from you," she shot back, a trace of a smirk in her voice.
"...you also get very bratty"
"I also learned that from you," she murmured.
You rolled your eyes and looked at the clock.
It was seven now, usually the time Clara woke up on days she didn't have training or games, but given how silent the flat was, she was still sleeping.
"Hey, want to get up for some breakfast?" You asked, looking out the window, right into the face of a cloud that resembled a heart- an anatomically accurate one, of course. "I can make you something."
When Alexia didn't respond, you nudged her side softly. "Hey?"
A (very sleepy) index finger was pressed against your lips, shushing you. "Shh, I want to sleep."
"Sleep?" You said, amused. "It's almost seven o'clock."
Alexia let out a string of incoherent protests that lasted for exactly twenty-seven seconds. You could barely understand what she was saying, but it was something about how she needed ten hours of sleep, and she barely got seven. Poor, poor girl.
"Okay, grumpy…" You said, your hand soothing her back, "sleep."
"But you stay here," she added, her voice clearer this time. "In bed with me. No… studying. No leaving me."
You smiled, letting your hand drift lower to cup her ass. "I'll stay here, capi."
"Don't tease me," she mumbled, pressing her face further into the crook of your neck. "I'm needy."
"You can be needy," you told her. "Just sleep. I'll stay here, promise."
Alexia nodded before letting sleep take her again.
You looked at your bedside time and saw your unfinished Sudoku book.
You placed it against your bent knee and began filling in the grids with one hand, while the other remained tangled in Alexia's hair, keeping up the rhythm of the massage you knew she needed to stay asleep.
Alexia was out for another hour and a half.
When she finally woke up, she still claimed to be tired, so the two of you just stayed in bed, simply enjoying the comfortable silence and the warmth of each other's bodies.
Her thumb was tracing absent-minded circles on your hips when she spoke with a sleepy voice.
"What are you even doing?" She pressed her hands into her eyes. "I thought I said no studying?"
"It's just Sudoku," you replied with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm not studying."
You pressed a kiss to the top of her head while debating whether the third box on the left quadrant was an eight or perhaps a five. You really wanted to finish this page before breakfast, but maybe Alexia wouldn't allow you to.
"Why are you doing it? It's so early," she groaned.
She looked unfairly adorable, all tired and clingy, you wanted to see this version of her every morning… maybe the secret was to make her come as soon as she woke up.
"So I won't suffer from cognitive decline by the time I'm seventy," You answer.
Alexia blinked at you, her hand dropping from her face. "You know you are allowed to say you find it fun, right? It's okay if you like it, I'm not making fun of you for it."
You tilted your head, looking at her, confused.
"But I don't do it for fun. I hate Sudoku… I find it quite tedious." You shrugged. "It's just very good exercise; it uses a lot of different brain regions, you know? Plus, it has numbers, I like numbers."
With a lazy swat, Alexia pushed the book and pen toward the edge of the mattress.
You huffed, but she shut you up by wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you down into the pillow with her.
"If you don't like it, don't do it," she said. "Besides, you were squinting at the page; you probably need glasses."
"Glasses?" You turned to her, feeling slightly offended. "I don't need glasses. My vision is perfect."
"Then why the squinting, doctora?"
"I-I wasn't squinting!" You defended yourself, though you knew you had been, just a bit. "I was just… concentrating, I do that when I'm thinking very hard, it helps me."
"Tsk, tsk… terca," Alexia said, laughing softly and kissing your cheek. [Stubborn]
Then, as if something had caught in her head, her smile vanished, and the comfortable atmosphere of the room suddenly felt fragile.
"Hey," she said, her voice clearer now, more awake. "Do you want me to leave?"
You turned to face her properly, frowning.
The sudden change caught you off guard. "What? What do you mean? Of course not. Why are you asking me that?"
"I mean to give you space," she said, looking up at you with incredibly sleepy eyes. "So you can talk to Clara without me… I don't know, standing in the hallway? I don't want to be the reason things stay awkward between you two."
"Ale, you can stay, bebé," you said tenderly. "You heard her last night; she said it was okay for you to be here."
"Sí, but today is a whole new day…" She argued as she looked at the door. "It must have finally sunk in by now - our whole relationship. I can come back another time, or we can meet up somewhere else."
She looked uncertain. "I don't want to make this harder, yeah? It's just the beginning, and I would really like to be in your sister's good graces."
Your chest ached.
You wanted her to stay, to have breakfast together like a normal couple, to show Clara that this was real and good. But Alexia wasn't wrong. Things did feel different in the light of morning, once the adrenaline had faded and everyone had had a good night's sleep.
What if Clara had only 'agreed' because she was in shock?' What if, like a true Serrajordi sister, she had spent the night letting the voices in her head overthink everything?
"Maybe…" you agreed slowly. "Maybe just for the morning? But we can go out for lunch later? After I talk to her?"
Alexia nodded, a small smile appearing on her face. "That sounds great. If everything goes well, Clara can come with us."
You looked at her, naked in your bed, soft and trusting, and being so incredibly reasonable about your sister. Your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest by the pure feeling of affection.
"You know I love you, right?" you asked suddenly. "A lot."
Alexia's eyes widened just a little before she shifted closer, pulling you into a kiss. This one was gentle and unhurried, filled with softness.
It wasn't the first time you had said those words, but you could still count on your fingers how many times the confession had actually slipped past your tongue. It was no secret that you struggled to express certain emotions, especially important ones.
Telling Alexia how you felt during sex was easy; the oxytocin made the words flow effortlessly. But outside that? It was a proper battle… Alexia knew that, and she never once made you feel bad for the silence.
"T'estimo molt, mi sol," she whispered against your lips before pecking you one last time and crawling out of bed. [I love you so much]
You forced yourself not to whine at the loss of her warmth, of how good she had felt pressed against you.
You needed to get up, to start your day, but if Alexia kept looking at you with those soft eyes and speaking so tenderly, you were going to end up keeping her hostage in this room forever.
You got dressed in silence, the two of you moving around each other like you had shared the same bed for years. Alexia gathered her things, stuffing her toiletries back into her overnight bag, and when she was ready, she hesitated at your bedroom door.
"Text me, yeah?" she asked. "Let me know how it goes?"
"Of course," You caught her hand, lacing your fingers through hers. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too, amor," Alexia smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "But hey," she continued, her lips still on your skin. "After today, we can just be us, yeah?"
Your heart did somersaults.
"You can spend more time here," you said, your excitement bubbling up. "And I can actually spend more than one night at your house."
"And you," Alexia whispered, her lips trailing from your forehead to your temples until she found your mouth. "You can come to the games. I know you aren't the biggest fan, but Clara and I might have to find a way to motivate you, huh?"
You rolled your eyes playfully but leaned into her kiss. Her lips were soft, as they always were. Her hand held your waist as if it were meant to be there.
You sighed against her, sharing the same breath.
"I'll think about it," you teased.
Alexia took a step back, her eyebrows arching high in challenge.
"Oh, think about it?" she said, mirroring your tone. "I thought you would want to see me with my captain's armband?"
You swallowed hard.
You had seen pictures of her on the rare occasions you checked Instagram. Alexia always looked incredibly hot, especially with sweat and grass clinging to her, but that armband was something else entirely.
You hummed, smirking as you rested your chin on her sternum, looking up at her. "What are the chances of you bringing that armband home?"
Alexia's eyes darkened. "It depends... for what reason?"
"I think you know."
"Look at you," she sighed dramatically. "Assuming things about me. If, and only if, you ask nicely, I'll see what I can do."
"Good," you said. "Then you can wear it for me."
"Wear it for you?" She repeated in a condescending tone. "Are you suddenly interested in seeing me in it?"
"Yes, capi."
Alexia's grin widened, and she lowered her hands to your ass, cupping it before giving it a light smack that certainly shouldn't have got you so… wet.
You gulped, pretending to pay attention to what she was saying.
"You are a mean woman, you know?" she said, repeating her words from last night. "Getting me all worked up right before I have to leave."
It took a lot of effort and restraint to finally pull apart, but eventually, you two managed to look decent enough to open the door.
As soon as you did it, you found Clara standing in the hallway, right in front of your room.
She was in pyjama pants and an old Barça shirt, a mug of coffee in one hand, and under-eye tapes stuck to her face, even though you had told her a hundred times she didn't need them because she was still too young.
You stared at her, and Clara stared back. There was definitely something awkward going on, and you felt out of place in your own home. You were about to offer her quick good morning, but Clara beat you to it,
"Oh, hi! Clara said. "I was just about to knock. I need to talk to you two."
You and Alexia exchanged a look, one mixed with confusion and a little fear.
Alexia smiled, looking as composed as ever. "Oh, I was just leaving. You can have your sister all to yourself, Serra."
"You're not leaving," Clara said firmly, but then she remembered exactly who she was talking to and her posture loosened. "...if that's okay, capi? I really want to talk."
Alexia didn't look at you when she shrugged and followed Clara into the kitchen. You trailed behind them, your heart hammering nervously.
Was that it? Was this the moment Clara was going to say she hated having Alexia around and demanded you to break up with her?
The kitchen was bright with morning sun, making the green counter you and Clara had painted yourselves look particularly cosy.
Clara had clearly been up for a while; there was a fresh pot of coffee, and two extra mugs waiting on the counter, as if she had been counting the minutes for you two to leave the room.
She poured coffee for you and Alexia without asking, then gestured to the small table.
You don't just pour coffee for people you are about to kick out, right? You thought to yourself.
Clara placed the mugs at each seat and looked at both.
You must have looked stupid because she added awkwardly, "Mhmm… you can sit, you know?"
"Oh, yeah.. of course," Alexia nodded, taking a seat, you followed, your knee brushing hers under the table.
Clara settled across from you, her hands wrapped around her mug. For a moment, she just looked at you, like she was assessing the situation, and then she took a deep breath.
"I'm obviously okay with you two being together… I just have rules."
"Rules?" Alexia repeated slowly.
"Oh," you said carefully. "...Okay?"
"Rule number one, and we have already talked about it, but I'm going to repeat myself." Clara's face was serious. "Please, do not have sex with an unlocked door. Ever. I am begging you. I'll knock every time, obviously, but… just to make sure it never happens again."
Your face immediately went hot, and Alexia nearly choked on her coffee.
"Clara, if we had known you were coming home, we would have-"
"I know! Clara cut you off. "I'm just asking for you to lock it every time you are in the flat, whether I'm home or not," and then, as if to make herself clear. "Lock the door. Every time. Please."
"We will," you managed. "Yeah… of course. Don't worry about that."
"Okay. Second rule." Clara looked at Alexia. "You're welcome here, anytime. I mean that. But please, keep the physical stuff to yourselves, yeah? I really don't want to see a lot of pda."
"PDA?" Alexia asked, tilting her head in confusion. "What's that?"
"Public display of affection," you mumbled.
"Oh," Alexia nodded slowly. "Right. Okay."
"And definitely no sex on the sofa," Clara continued. "Or in the kitchen. Or-" She slapped her hand on the table, and the mugs rattled lightly. "Never on this table. Please. I eat here."
"Clara!" You wanted the floor to swallow you whole. "Do you think we are animals?! Of course we wouldn't-"
"I don't know what you would do!" Clara said, her voice pitching higher. "I didn't know you would be dating my captain! I don't know anything anymore!"
Beside you, Alexia was biting her lip, clearly fighting the urge to laugh. You really admired her ability to find amusement in the worst situations a human could ever experience, like this one.
"Can we please stop talking about this?" you pleaded, hiding your face in your hands. "I think you've made your point."
"No, not yet." Clara took a gulp of coffee. "Just... try to keep your sex lives to yourselves. Please. I'm a child."
"You are almost eighteen-"
"I'm a baby!" Clara insisted. "A baby who doesn't need to know anything about what you two do behind closed doors."
"Noted," Alexia said quickly, her voice awfully neutral as if she just wanted to get this over with. "Anything else?"
Clara's expression softened slightly. "If you two ever go out to dinner... maybe you could bring me back some takeout? Like, if you're getting food?"
You blinked, completely caught off guard. "...That's a rule?"
"It's more like a request," Clara corrected. "I'm just saying…if you're going to be all couple-y and go on dates, I should at least get free food out of it.
Despite the embarrassment, you allowed yourself to smile. "Alright, we can do that."
"Good." Clara was quiet for a moment, staring into her coffee, and when she spoke again, her voice was smaller. "And... mana?"
"Yeah?"
"I know Alexia is like, very special now, in your life." Clara looked up. "But you can't stop loving me, okay? You're still my sister first."
Oh.
Oh.
"Clara-" Your voice cracked, and you reached across the table, grabbing her hand. "Bebé, no. Never. You are always going to be my priority."
"You promise?"
"Of course, I promise," you said firmly, squeezing her hand. "And nothing changes that… you are my little sister. You come first."
Alexia's hand found your knee under the table, and when you glanced at her, she was looking at Clara with something soft in her expression.
"She is right," Alexia said quietly. "You're her sister, Serra. That doesn't change just because I'm here now."
There was just a small moment of silence.
"Okay, good," Clara said, nodding to herself, and pulling her hand back. She sat up straighter. "Because I already have enough abandonment issues; I don't need you getting all wrapped up in your girlfriend and forgetting I exist."
"That's never going to happen, silly," you said, reaching out and ruffling her head, something that always annoyed her.
"Okay, stop it," she said, pouting, smoothing her hair down. "Well… good talk. I feel better now."
"Yeah?" you asked.
"Yeah," Clara replied. "I'm still traumatised from last night, but... I'll get over it. Probably. Eventually... someday when I'm fifty."
Alexia blushed, scratching the back of her head. "Th-that's fair."
You watched them, something warm unfurling in your chest, something good and light. Something you never wanted to let go of.
Clara stood up.
"I'm going back to bed. I didn't sleep well because every time I closed my eyes, I saw-" She shuddered. "Never mind. I'm going to lie down, and when I wake up, we are never talking about this again."
"Great plan," you nodded.
Clara started toward the hallway, then paused, looking at the floor, avoiding Alexia's eyes.
"Oh, and capi?"
"Sí, Serra?"
"It seems like my sister really likes you," she said, "Like… a stupid lot. So… please, hm, don't hurt her. She'll be very sad if you do, and I don't want that to happen."
Alexia's expression went completely tender. "I won't, I promise you that."
Clara nodded and disappeared down the hall into her room. You and Alexia sat in silence for a moment, but Alexia couldn't contain herself.
"So… you really like me a stupid lot?" Alexia teased, her eyebrows rising.
You shoved her shoulder playfully, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Oh, shut up."
"Clara said it, not me," she said. "I'm just… quoting the source, double-checking…?"
You rolled your eyes playfully. "You can leave now, yeah? You are being annoying."
"Mhmm, I think I'll stay," Alexia countered as she caught your hand, pulling you closer and kissing the top of your head. "I also like you a stupid lot, just so you know."
You took a sip of your coffee, shoulders pressed against hers as you smiled into the hot liquid.
"The table thing was excessive, though," you said.
"Was it?" Alexia's eyes filled with amusement. "Because I seem to remember you saying something a few weeks ago about the kitchen counter-"
You clapped a hand over her mouth fast. "Clara's just down the hall! She will hear you!" You whispered. "And then you won't be welcomed here anymore."
Alexia's laugh was muffled against your palm.
She looked at you over your hands… she really liked to make you flush.
A few weeks had passed since Clara found out about the relationship, and let's just say Alexia was feeling… guilty.
You and Alexia were officially a couple. No more hiding, no more pretending, but you were still taking baby steps when it came to letting the whole world know. You weren't a public figure, and you really valued your privacy.
Alexia had told her mum, sister, and her close friends (the locker room included) that she was seeing someone, and she had casually mentioned that someone was a doctor, but hadn't disclosed your name or your relationship with Clara yet.
Unfortunately, thanks to Clara, that didn't last long, not that anyone was surprised.
It wasn't that Alexia didn't want the girls to know, she just wanted to break the news bit by bit.
She knew exactly how they were.
Once she admitted she was dating you, two things were guaranteed: one, they would tease Alexia relentlessly for dating a teammate's sister; and two, they would annoy her nonstop until she introduced you.
So when Clara accidentally (or not) let it slip that Alexia had slept over at her place, the team was thoroughly confused. What the hell was Alexia doing there? But then, very bluntly, Clara mentioned Alexia had been there with her sister… you.
Alexia had never, never in a million years, been teased this much.
It was like she couldn't step into a room without feeling like a thirteen-year-old girl all over again.
Patri only had to raise her eyebrows for Alexia to turn into a tomato while Pina chimed in with a smirk that she only used when she was about to tease the hell out of someone.
"Oh, you slept over? Is that why you have been in such a good mood lately?"
That made Alexia flush so much she felt her whole face growing hot, while Clara pulled a visibly nauseated face in the corner of the locker room.
But Alexia wasn't the only target of the teasing, and that was the real problem.
Sporadically, the girls would nudge Clara, asking how it felt to be the captain's sister-in-law, or whether it was weird to wake up and find Alexia in her living room.
Things escalated during a post-game celebration, when alcohol was very much involved.
One of the girls asked Clara (far too loudly) if it was awkward knowing that the Spanish national team captain was fucking her sister.
Needless to say, Alexia gave Mapi and a few other girls a legendary earful for the careless comment. She tried to talk to Clara about it afterwards, but by then the kid had already walked away with Aicha.
Clara was trying to handle it well. The rest of the team was not.
Even for someone as easy-going as Clara, the relentless teasing was becoming too much, and Alexia certainly didn't appreciate the borderline sexual jokes involving you.
After giving everyone a very stern talk a few too many times - Captain's voice on - about respecting Clara and you, Alexia had an idea.
The kid was having a hard time and, technically, it was Alexia's fault.
She was the one who had disrupted Clara's family dynamics out of nowhere, so it felt only right that she be the one to fix it, right?
When her mami mentioned casually over dinner that a friend's dog had just had a litter, Alexia's plan just clicked into place.
Puppies were cute and fluffy, they wagged their tail and sat on command! It was exactly what Clara needed to be happy again, something good to come out of this whole situation.
The next morning, Alexia was driving to your flat with a tiny golden retriever puppy tucked safely inside a travel box.
She had even tied a silk pink bow around the puppy's neck to make her even cuter. Alexia smiled as she drove… Clara was going to be so happy that she wouldn't even remember Mapi's or Pina's jokes.
What Alexia hadn't anticipated, however, was you.
After parking the car, she got out of the driver's seat and carefully lifted the travel box, putting her hand inside at a weird angle to pat the small creature inside.
"Hey chiquita," Alexia murmured in a baby's voice. "Want to go meet your family? They are my family too, and I think you are going to love them." [Little girl]
The puppy blinked at her.
"No need to worry!" Alexia continued. "Clara is the sweetest girl ever…She is going to be an amazing mami to you."
Another blink.
Alexia sighed, struck in the chest by a sudden feeling of cute aggression.
"Ugh," she muttered. "I want to keep you to myself now."
Alexia walked up the stairs, got to your floor and knocked on the door.
She hadn't said she was coming, but she knew you were at home studying, and Clara wasn't supposed to be at the training centre.
Clara was the one who opened the door, and her face flickered with surprise when she saw Alexia standing there.
"Oh! Hi, Ale!" she said, but then smiled. "Come on in, I'll call my sister."
"Wait," Alexia stopped her. "Let me give you something first."
Before Clara could even ask what, Alexia brought the travel box out from behind her back and held it towards Clara.
She was expecting a few sentimental tears, or just a small, happy little hop, but in reality, Clara let out a high-pitched, absolutely piercing scream; it was so loud it wiped the smile right off Alexia's face in surprise. [ :D → :( ]
In a matter of seconds, Clara had grabbed the box, opened it and pulled the puppy out, dropping both of them on the living room rug. She was rolling around, holding the puppy up as if she had just won a billion dollars.
"Oh my god! You got a puppy now?" Clara cried. "Awnt!! And this bow!? I'm going to explode!."
"Well…" Alexia laughed nervously, glancing towards the hallways. "She's actually your puppy."
Clara, once again, screamed, and Alexia feared the neighbours were going to call the cops. That second scream was what finally dragged you out of your room.
"What the fuck is happening?! I'm trying to study!" you asked grumpily, already halfway down the hall, your voice softening when you saw Ale. "Oh! Hi amor, what are you-"
You froze mid-sentence, stopping dead in your tracks, your eyes narrowing as they landed on the fluff-ball in your sister's arms. "Is… is that a dog?"
"Yes! I got her for Clara," Alexia smiled happily, almost proud. "Isn't she the cutest thing you have ever seen?"
Clara immediately stopped playing, her smile faltered as she looked up at you carefully, instinctively putting the small dog behind her back, shielding her from your eyes.
"No," you said fatly. "Absolutely not."
Alexia was confused.
"..No? What do you mean, no? Yes, it's Clara's now! And well… yours too, of course."
"No," you repeated, more stern now. "Clara, give it back to Alexia; she's going to return it to whoever she got it from."
"Give her back?!" Clara gasped, taking the puppy from behind her and clutching the dog to her chest, pouting as the dog began to lick her chin. "But I love her… we've bonded already!"
"Give her back, mi amor?" Alexia asked; she clearly wasn't understanding what was happening. "But… she has a big pink bow! Look at her, don't you see? She is adorable!"
"She's my child," Clara insisted. "You can't do that, you cant separate us!"
"She's so cute," Alexia added helplessly, trying to soften your heart that seemingly went cold. "If you talk to her, she blinks like she understands you! She is super smart… a-and she's chubby!"
You rubbed your face; it was only two in the afternoon, but you looked completely tired already, and a headache was already pounding at the back of your head.
"No! And Clara, you know damn well I'm terrified of dogs."
And just like that, Alexia froze.
"You are?!" She blurted out. "You never told me that"
"Yes!" you said defensively, your heart beating faster now. "One bit me when I was five, I-I can't even look at one! They have big teeth, and they are aggressive and-"
Alexia frowned, then looked down at the puppy, as if trying to reconcile it with every single characteristic you were describing.
She gently took the puppy from Clara and stepped closer to you.
You immediately stepped back. Alexia took another step, and you hit the living room wall.
"Big teeth, bebé?" Alexia asked softly. "Look, she barely has any!" And to prove her point, she gently nudged the puppy's mouth open to show you the tiny teeth.
"And where exactly did this dog bite you?" she continued, curious." I've never seen any scars?"
"Right on the inside of my thigh," you shot back, eyes closed, refusing to look at the beast. "It was very bad, I had to get stitches and a rabies shot!"
"I have spent a lot of time inside your tight," Alexia said, confused. "And I have never seen any scars!"
"Well, maybe because you weren't exactly looking for one, Alexia," you snapped. "But it's there."
"Ew!" Clara yelled, taking a step towards Alexia just to cover the puppy's ear. "Stop talking about that, my child is listening!"
"Look, she just wants to lick you," Alexia said very tenderly, ignoring Clara and nudging her gently to the side.
"She's very docile, mi sol." She moved closer, tilting the dog towards you. "Look, she's just a baby, see?"
Before you could run away, the puppy's damp and warm nose brushed against the skin of your forearm, and the reaction was visceral. Your breathing stopped, and your entire body started to shake; you felt like you were being chased by a bear by the way your heart was beating.
"Put it away right now," you choked out as you trembled. "Alexia, put it away. Alexia. Now. I'm not kidding, take it away from me."
Alexia halted all her movements when she saw your reaction, the way you were shaking, how there were real tears in your eyes
"Oh… you really are scared," she said in a small voice
"Of course I am!" you snapped, your fear mixing with anger. "Can't you see? J-just take it somewhere else!"
Alexia opened her mouth, but she didn't have a chance to speak. You practically bolted towards your bedroom, slamming the door shut.
The captain stood in the centre of the living room, and the puppy suddenly didn't seem such a joyful gift anymore.
She looked at Clara, and her expression was one of guilt.
"I'm sorry, Serra. I messed up. I think… I think I have to take the dog back."
"What?! No!" The younger girl's voice cracked, as tears welled up in her eyes, and she looked at Alexia as if she had betrayed her. "You can't do that to me, Alexia! First, you take my sister, and now you are taking my puppy?"
"Clara," Alexia began, trying to sound reasonable. "Your sister just hyperventilated when the puppy touched her arm."
"I don't care!" Clara got up quickly and practically snatched the puppy out of Alexia's arms and ran towards her own room. "She is mine now, you can't just do that! Give someone a puppy just to take it back!"
And then… boom. Another door slam.
Two, just this afternoon, Alexia was keeping count.
Alexia found herself alone, surrounded by what she thought would be a perfect afternoon.
To her right side, a teenager was crying because she was scared she was going to lose her new puppy. To her left, you were probably trying to calm yourself after Alexia just made you stand face to face with your biggest fear.
Apparently, a person couldn't get everything right, but Alexia certainly could get it all wrong.
Alexia took a deep breath. Okay.
She was okay. She just needed to focus. Regroup with… herself?
Alexia had been through the worst.
She had played through decisive matches, Olympics, World Cups and Champions Leagues. She could easily resolve this situation the same way she resolved everything in her life: with tactics and logic and a clear mind.
Right now, Clara was the most stable one out of the two of you.
She was scared to lose the puppy, but as long as she had it in her room, she would be fine. You, on the other hand, had been flushed deep red and were struggling for air just a few minutes ago, so Alexia decided to assess you first.
Ale knew you well enough to know this would be a challenge, but she didn't back down from any challenges, not even the ones that made her want to turn around and run.
Alexia was the one who started this mess; she was going to be the one to fix it.
She knocked on your door; she already knew the answer, but she asked anyway.
"Mi sol? Can I come in?"
Alexia's lips moved, silently mimicking your response before you even spoke.
"No. Go away."
Alexia let out a sharp puff of air. She could sense, by your voice, that you were crying, and she didn't think she had what it took to handle this. The brunette had seen you angry, sad, and happy, but she had never seen you cry.
The sound of it made her chest contract so painfully, she wondered if there was a pathological reason for it. Surely guilt couldn't feel this physical.
Alexia opened the door anyway; she hadn't heard the click when you ran inside, she knew it wasn't locked.
You were sitting on the bed with your back against the headboard, your hands covering your eyes. When you looked up, your expression had hardened instantly, hiding how you were feeling.
You wore a proper mask. Alexia never wished for you to direct it to her again.
"Mi bebé, perdon," Alexia said, her eyebrows knitting together as guilt made home in her chest. It probably wouldn't find another place to stay anytime soon. "I didn't know. I swear, I didn't know you were that scared of dogs."
"Can you just go?" you said sharply, trying to wipe your face quickly; your gaze was fixed anywhere in the room but on her. "Go, now. Please. I-I'll call you later, and we can talk."
Alexia didn't move. She stayed at the edge of the bed, watching you as you turned away, the tears kept falling, no matter how hard you tried to stop them.
"I don't want to talk later," The captain said, her voice soft, the softest tone she had ever heard coming from her. "I just want to hold you, sí? You are crying."
"I'm not crying!" You snapped, giving her a very pointed look while a tear rolled down your cheek. "I was crying because the dog startled me, but I'm-I'm not anymore. I'm okay now."
Alexia really wondered how long you could persist with that façade up. She didn't want to test your limits or to push you; she simply couldn't bear to see you this upset, even if you were too stubborn to admit how shaken you were.
She climbed onto the bed, moving very delicately.
"No," you insisted as she came closer. "Ale, just go!"
Alexia didn't reply, simply settling beside you, but not too close so you wouldn't feel crowded.
You deliberately turned your face away, a pout on your lips, one that she knew you were trying to hide, but was failing. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, but that didn't stop Alexia.
"Come here," she said softly; it wasn't a command as much as it wasn't an invitation.
Her hand slid around your shoulder, drawing you toward her. At first, you were as rigid as concrete, your muscles fighting against her pull, but slowly, you allowed yourself to be tucked against her chest.
"Yes," she said, kissing the top of your head. "Just like that."
"I don't need a hug!" You protested.
"I know," she said calmly, using the tone she knew worked on you. "I'm hugging you because I want to, not because you need one."
"I'm not crying," you said once again, hiding your face in the crook of her neck while her palm rested on the back of your head. "I'm just… upset an-and when I'm upset I-I-"
"You cry," Alexia finished for you. "Like any other person in the world."
"Y-you brought a d-dog here, and I'm scared of them," you said, taking a deep breath as you pulled back slightly, looking at her through tear-filled eyes.
"And now Clara is going to be miserable because of me and this stupid fear! A-and she has never even had a dog before! Why would you bring a dog!?"
"I just wanted to make something nice for her," Alexia murmured, voice filled with regret, as her shoulder dropped.
"Then you should have bought her socks," you snapped. "Or literally anything else! Anything but an animal."
"I messed up, I know it," Alexia swallowed. "And I'm sorry. I should have checked with you first and asked if it was okay."
"I-im just… " Your voice cracked, the anger leaving your body. "I'm very scared."
Your cheeks were incredibly red, your eyes so watery and pout so deep that Alexia couldn't help herself. She lifted her hand slowly before cupping your face, her thumb brushing gently over your skin.
She had never seen you like this, so open and vulnerable. You looked younger, smaller. And hated that she was the reason.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
Little by little, you began to relax against her, the tension in your body loosening until you were properly melted against Alexia's chest.
"I didn't know you had a phobia," she said after a few moments in silence, waiting for you to calm down.
"It's not a phobia," you corrected quickly as she wiped the tears from your face.
"I mean, I can look and interact with dogs from a safe distance. But only if I prepare myself." You sniffed. "I don't cross the street just because there's a dog outside. I just didn't expect to walk into one in my living room, that's all."
Alexia's mind was already a mile away.
She couldn't stand seeing you cry like that, not over anything, and yet, Clara's face kept flashing through her mind, too. The way her eyes had lit up when she had seen the dog, the excitement….
Alexia groaned to herself. She hated that those two things were colliding, hated that you were scared of dogs, and hated that Clara loved her puppy so much, and most important of all. hated that she was the cause of the collision.
"Maybe," you started, your voice trembling but steadier than before. "M-maybe the dog can stay, but only i-if she is well-trained. We can get a dog specialist, or a trainer…I don't know. They can teach her to be calm, or-or else I'll stay scared, and I don't w-want that. I can get used to her, just…bit by bit.
"My love," Alexia said, shaking her head. "Maybe it's better if the dog stays at my house instead. Clara can see her whenever she wants, and you won't have to be nervous in your own home every day."
"No," you said quickly, sniffing back the last few tears. "I-I will get used to her. I told you, it's not really a phobia, I just get… very nervous." You pressed yourself deeper into Alexia's body. "And I don't want Clara to lose her dog because of me."
Alexia studied your face, searching for any signs of doubt or hesitation, but she found none.
She sighed, leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips. "Okay, mi sol," she murmured. "If you think that's the right decision."
"It is," you said. "I know it is."
Alexia smiled fairly against your hair, half proud and half worried.
You truly were the most stubborn person she had ever met, and she loved you intensely for it.
a/n: I hope you guys liked it! part 4 coming soon <3
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Your reflection, my secret pt3
Couple: Alexia x reader
AU!Omegaverse, Omega x Alpha
Note: I'm back, my beautiful people! I tried to make this as organized as possible, but my brain doesn't work in an organized way, so if you have any questions, let me know in the comments :D, This is about 7k words long. WITHOUT REVIEWING.
Alexia arrived a little later than usual that day at the Ciutat Esportiva to train, her hand firmly intertwined with her daughter’s.
The little girl walked along with small hops, while with her other hand she clutched tightly a red fox plushie, looking at everything with curiosity, as if the whole world were a new and fascinating place. Alexia, on the other hand, had tense shoulders and her jaw clenched. She hadn’t slept well. Not since she found out she wouldn’t have anyone to leave Mia with that day.
“Promise me you’ll behave, sweetheart,” she asked softly, crouching down to her height.
“Yes, mom,” she replied with a smile as she adjusted the straps of her backpack. “Can I stay with you?”
Alexia hesitated. She looked down the corridors of the Ciutat, toward the locker rooms and offices. She checked the time, looked at the walls, and then—she saw you.
You were sitting on the edge of the grass, stretching and focused, your hair pulled up into a high bun and a water bottle held between your hands. You looked calm on your first day.
“Sweetie, today you’re going to meet someone new.”
Mia quickly turned her gaze to her mom, noticing how she was staring at someone. Alexia had no more options—you were the only available person who could watch Mia long enough for her to find someone from the staff who could keep an eye on her while she trained.
The two of them walked slowly over to where you were sitting.
“Hi, Y/N,” Alexia greeted politely, feeling her heart pounding in her throat and her palms growing sweaty. You greeted her back, glancing at Mia, who seemed fascinated by your boots.
“They’re light blue. Do you like light blue?” Mia asked as she stepped closer to your boots, completely absorbed, unaware of the tension between her mother and you. You smiled as you answered.
“Yes, it’s my favorite color. Do you like them?” She looked up at you with bright eyes and nodded quickly.
“Y/N, sorry to ask you this, but…” Alexia stopped halfway, sighed, and found the strength to continue. “Could you watch her while I have my training session? I don’t want to bother you—if you can’t, I can go and—”
You stopped her mid-ramble. “Of course I can. I don’t have much to do today, don’t worry.” You stood up from where you were sitting and extended your hand to Mia, who immediately took it while rambling about her plushie and how light blue was her favorite color.
Alexia stopped her briefly to say goodbye so she could head to training as fast as possible and come back to her daughter. Mia, meanwhile, said goodbye quickly so she could go play with you, just like you had promised.
Alexia walked away with a knot in her chest. It was genuinely tender to see how, without knowing each other—or knowing the truth—you were so similar. Even the way you walked was the same.
Mia had already let go of your hand to sit down on the grass without asking for permission. She placed the plushie to the side and looked at you with her head tilted, assessing you with a seriousness that didn’t match her age.
“Do you play football, like my mom?” she asked, as if the answer would define something important.
“Yes, since I was little,” you replied, a gentle look filtering from the deepest part of you.
She considered your answer, almost like a professional, before responding. “My mom too. She says she’s the best.” You smiled softly—that smile you didn’t think about, the one that just came naturally. You picked up a nearby ball and slowly rolled it toward her. Mia stood up and stopped it with her foot, with an ease that made your eyebrows lift.
“Do you like playing?” it was your turn to evaluate her.
“I like it, but mommy says I shouldn’t run too fast here,” and she tried to obey—valiantly. Three seconds later, she was already chasing the ball, laughing softly, her plushie abandoned on the grass. You watched her run, and something tightened in your chest—a strange but familiar feeling, like when something seems to fit without any logical reason.
“Hey, be careful,” you said, hurrying toward her when you saw her stumble. Mia turned immediately, not crying but a little scared. She walked back to you and took your hand, as if it were something routine.
“It’s okay,” she said, looking at you with the same loving eyes that once used to look at you. “You’ll take care of me, right?”
You didn’t know how to answer right away. Your fingers closed around her small hand before you realized it. “Of course,” you murmured. “Always.”
Training ended when the sun was already beginning to set behind the stands. Alexia walked off the field with her shirt clinging to her skin and her heart beating harder than usual. She searched with her eyes before realizing she already knew exactly where to look.
You were sitting in the same spot as in the morning, with Mia between your legs while you gently braided her hair with your fingers, and she told you a story enthusiastically, so focused she didn’t even notice when Alexia approached.
“Mom,” she said after a while, “Y/N was telling me that when she was little she had a plushie just like mine. Isn’t that exciting?” You smiled awkwardly when Alexia arrived and stood up.
“I didn’t want to tire her out. We just played a bit, went to eat, and then she sat with me.”
Alexia nodded, too quickly to be casual. “Thank you. Again.”
Mia turned around and hugged you without warning, her small arms wrapping around your waist. It was a simple, childish gesture. But it hurt Alexia as if someone had ripped the air from her lungs. Because that was exactly how she used to hug you when you were little. Just as easily. Just as sincerely.
“You’ll come again tomorrow?” the girl asked, looking at you hopefully.
“Yes, I work here, so I’ll be around,” you answered, looking at her—not at the child. Alexia looked away.
There was a strange silence afterward. Not uncomfortable—just heavy. Like an underground station where the train takes too long to arrive.
—
You arrived before the agreed time. Much earlier.
Alexia’s house was still quiet when you rang the doorbell, a fabric tote bag hanging from your wrist and a bottle of wine shamelessly peeking out. You had hesitated before coming, of course. You always hesitated—and still, you came.
Alexia opened the door with her hair down and an oversized T-shirt. She looked surprised when she saw you.
“You’re early.”
“I thought I could help,” you replied, lifting the bottle of wine, “and I brought some things.” You showed her the bag: the red wine, a couple of beers, strawberry and apple juices. Alexia frowned for a few seconds.
“They don’t sell those anymore.”
“You used to like them.”
Silence took over the space for a few seconds. “Come in,” she finally said, inviting you inside. The kitchen still smelled like freshly made coffee. Mia was sitting at the table, her feet dangling, a pencil in hand, drawing something with absolute concentration. She looked up when she recognized your scent.
“Y/N!” she smiled excitedly. “Mom said you’d come.” Alexia visibly tensed beside you.
“Hey, little one,” you said as you walked over to her. “What are you drawing?” You gently stroked her head, fixing the little strands of hair that had escaped her bun.
“My day today at mommy’s work,” she replied, focused on not coloring outside the lines. Alexia just watched from an almost absurd distance, as if she were afraid of getting burned… or of breaking that family moment that seemed to twist her insides.
It was impossible to ignore the similarities between the alpha and the girl, even in that moment where both looked focused, one more than the other. Slightly furrowed brow, slightly parted jaw, the same expression you remembered seeing on Alexia when she started studying Catalan.
The night was calm, as they usually were, except this time Alexia seemed to be walking on glass, trying and praying that her biggest secret wouldn’t come to light and that something much bigger wouldn’t destroy her small bubble. She couldn’t focus the rest of the night.
It wasn’t because of the excessive noise the younger ones were making, or how Cata was yelling at Salma that she was cheating, but because every time she looked up, Mia was glued to you as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
First she was sitting next to you on the couch, showing you one of her new drawings. Then she was sitting on the floor, leaning between your legs while you tried to braid her hair clumsily, something you had learned from a video but that fell apart every two minutes.
Alexia watched from the kitchen, holding a glass she didn’t remember pouring. She wanted to believe it was jealousy because her daughter wasn’t that attached to her that night, but deep down she knew what it was. Recognition. Because her little star wasn’t like that with just anyone. That trust she seemed to have with you was the same one Alexia had had at eleven with your younger self.
“It’s impressive,” María commented softly, as if she were making a private joke, sitting near Alexia in the kitchen. “They haven’t known each other long and they already look like… a family.”
Alexia felt the warmth leave her body, choking on the liquid in her glass. “What are you saying, María?” she tried, forcing herself to sound casual.
“Look at them.” She raised an eyebrow toward you. “The way your daughter looks for her, and how Y/N responds without thinking. As if they had known each other before.” She laughed at her own comment.
“Mia is sociable,” Alexia replied too quickly, gripping her glass tightly.
“Not that much, Ale,” María answered gently. “We both know that little girl, and Mia isn’t that close with new people.” Alexia didn’t answer. She couldn’t, because if she opened her mouth, the truth might slip out.
The night slowly faded. One by one, the girls began to say goodbye and leave the apartment. Hugs, jokes, and drunk promises left the place behind. Silence returned to the house like a calm tide.
Mia yawned exaggeratedly, rubbing her eyes. “Mommy… I’m sleepy.”
Alexia stood up immediately. “Then let’s go.”
But before she could take her hand, Mia turned to Y/N, who was coming out of the bathroom, ready to leave for her apartment. “Y/N?”
“Yes, little one?”
“Will you come tuck me in?” The sentence fell like a bomb, both adults unsure of what to say, while Mia seemed urgent to get to her comfortable bed. Alexia stood tense, staring at the floor.
“Sweetheart…” she started softly. “Y/N must be tired…”
“Please, I promise I’ll fall asleep fast, mommy.”
Y/N looked at Alexia, searching for permission. No pressure, no expectation, just a silent question. Alexia swallowed. “It’s fine…”
They went upstairs together, Mia holding tightly onto Y/N’s hand while leading the way to her room. The little girl kept talking about her fox plushie. “Did you know red foxes are common in rural areas over in France…” Her voice was lower now, tired but still energetic enough to talk.
You tucked her into bed while looking at her tenderly. “I’ve seen them. I grew up with them.”
Her eyes opened a little wider. “That’s why I like you. You’re my red fox guardian who speaks nicely.” You smiled softly, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. As soon as you had told her you were from France, she had said she didn’t know much about it, but that she would research more about your country to know you better, and that French and the way you spoke Catalan sounded very pretty.
“Will you tell me something? Mommy always tells me stories.” You gently stroked her forehead, thinking of what to tell her.
“When I was little, I used to live in the countryside. It was scary,” you changed your voice at the last word, making her laugh. “I used to be afraid of sleeping alone.” Mia looked at you, impressed. You were an alpha, how could you be afraid? “So I imagined there was someone guarding the door. Maybe a giant dog, or a pigeon.” Mia laughed as she closed her eyes.
“I liked your story.” You leaned in to adjust her plushie and blanket one last time.
“Good night, little fly.”
“Good night, Y/N.”
When you left the room, Alexia was leaning against the hallway wall, looking at you as if she didn’t know what to do with what she had just seen. “Thank you so much,” she murmured.
“It was nothing.” You stood awkwardly in the middle of the hallway, Mia’s bedroom door at your back. “She’s an incredible girl.”
Alexia nodded, her eyes bright. “Yes… she is.”
“I should go… It was nice seeing you again, Alexia.” You smiled politely before walking toward the exit, leaving her with a tight throat.
Y/N hesitated by the door, as if there were something more to say, but she didn’t, and she just left, leaving Alexia there, feeling like the world was about to collapse.
Over the following days, everything continued as usual.
The situation in the locker room didn’t change much. Everyone went on with their lives, bringing the new signing into the jokes and banter. Y/N seemed to always joke around with staff members. Apparently many of them had seen her play at La Masía and had followed her career closely. Among them stood out two people, Rodrigo and Daniela, twins who had played in the youth team. From what they had said, Daniela had torn her meniscus, preventing her from fulfilling the dream she had always had. Rodrigo, on the other hand, had played until he was fifteen, when he decided to become a physiotherapist to help his sister. Now both worked with the women’s team, both head physiotherapists.
“She’s got something, doesn’t she?” Irene murmured once, sitting next to Alexia while tying her boots.
Alexia didn’t answer. There was no need. She knew exactly what she meant. Y/N had something, something she didn’t seek but carried with her. Alexia had noticed it the first time they ran into each other again days later at the café near the Ciutat. Alexia was there with Mia, who was swinging her legs from the high chair, focused on mixing cocoa into her milk. “Red fox!” Mia exclaimed when she saw Y/N walk in.
Y/N turned, hands in her pockets, looking surprised, smiling even before thinking if she should. She crouched to Mia’s height as soon as the girl reached her, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Hi, little fly.”
Mia clung to her arm, telling her about her day, a new drawing she had made of her grandmother, and that she had learned a word in French that “you surely know.”
Alexia watched the whole scene from the sidelines. Something inside her broke every time she saw them. She was the one who had taken away her daughter’s chance to know her other mother.
She had taken away Y/N’s chance to be the loving mother she had always wanted to be. The mother of her children.
Y/N seemed not to notice Alexia’s presence, wrapped in the bubble she had created with the little girl, unaware of the invisible line Alexia had drawn.
You never crossed boundaries. You never asked too much, but you were always there, remembering the juices Mia liked, saving things with red foxes drawn on them, winking at her from the sideline when you crossed paths at an open training session.
Too easy. Too natural.
Héctor was the one who noticed it before Alexia wanted to accept it.
“She talks about her a lot,” he commented one night after they had taken Mia out and put her to bed, in a tone that tried to sound casual. “That French one.”
Alexia clenched her jaw. “She’s my teammate.”
“Uh-huh.”
He didn’t say more, but he started watching more closely. Connecting dots.
The way Mia ran toward Y/N, the way she calmed down when she spoke to her, that resemblance no one dared to mention but that floated in the air like an uncomfortable truth.
After a month, Y/N had started arriving earlier to training at the Ciutat. Not because anyone had asked her to. It was because Alexia usually arrived at that time with Mia, since Alexia’s mother picked her up a little later.
At first it passed as coincidence. Later, it didn’t.
Mia saw her from afar, letting go of her mother’s hand without asking permission.
“Y/N!” she shouted, running down the hallway with a backpack bigger than her. Y/N automatically crouched down, as if her body remembered something her mind didn’t dare think about.
“Hey, careful, little fly,” she said, opening her arms. Alexia stayed a few steps back, watching. She didn’t intervene. She never did.
Mia started pulling things out of her backpack, showing drawings, figures, stories that didn’t follow any apparent order. Y/N listened to everything attentively.
“Are you training a lot today?” she asked, looking at her while putting her pencils away and hanging the backpack back on.
“A lot,” Y/N answered, making an exaggerated grimace that made the girl laugh.
“Then I’ll wait and cheer for you from the stands,” she said confidently, having made a decision.
Alexia swallowed. Mia hadn’t asked her if she could. She stepped forward almost on reflex.
“Mia…” she started, with that voice she used when she didn’t want to say no but needed time to think. “I have a double session today, sweetheart. It’s going to be long, and today you were supposed to go out with Aunt Alba, remember?”
Y/N lifted her gaze only then, meeting Alexia’s eyes directly. There was no triumph in her expression, no expectation. Just calm, as if she accepted any answer.
“But I see Aunt Alba all the time. Maybe next time I see Y/N,” she replied with a big pout on her face.
Alexia sighed as if she had lost the worst argument ever. “You can stay for a bit,” she gave in after long minutes. “But only for a bit.”
Mia smiled like she had won the Champions League. “Thanks, mommy.” And before Alexia could add another condition, the girl was already walking next to Y/N toward the field, discussing what they could do. Alexia simply walked toward the locker rooms with her phone in hand, texting her mother and Alba to tell them Mia wouldn’t be going with them.
From the grass, Alexia tried to focus. She really tried, but every time she looked up, she saw them. Mia talking animatedly with her hands and Y/N leaning closer to hear her better.
It wasn’t simple closeness. She could tell they were in the same rhythm.
“Everything okay, capi?” Irene asked during a break, with a playful tone. “You’re looking at Y/N a lot.”
“Yes,” Alexia replied quickly, stopping her drink. “Everything’s fine.” A lie.
What she was seeing wasn’t bad or dangerous. It was worse.
It was domestic. Natural. As if the space belonged to them.
Training ended and Alexia was frustrated. She had messed up many things because she was distracted by Y/N. Bad passes, poorly placed crosses, sprints she couldn’t finish.
She headed toward where Mia was sitting on one of the benches. The others were chatting among themselves and Y/N was already next to Mia.
“Mia, that’s enough,” Alexia said, sounding harsher than she intended. “We’re leaving.”
The little girl frowned. “But Y/N isn’t leaving yet,” she said, confused.
Alexia clenched her jaw. “We are.”
Y/N stood up quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely.
Mia looked from one to the other, confusion written all over her face. “Did I do something bad?” Guilt fell heavily.
Alexia immediately crouched in front of her, forcing a softness that was becoming hard to maintain. “No, love. Not at all. It’s just… time to go.” Mia nodded, but before taking her mother’s hand and leaving, she hugged Y/N around the waist, quick and tight.
“Will you come early again tomorrow?”
Y/N hesitated for only a second. “If I can… yes.”
Alexia felt those words straight in her chest. Because she, more than anyone, knew that Y/N could always make it.
Weeks had passed since then. Y/N and Mia usually saw each other for a few minutes in the mornings before Alexia’s mother or Héctor picked the girl up and took her away.
The season had already started. They were doing well in the league and the cup, but in the Champions League Y/N wasn’t doing very well.
It seemed they didn’t trust her enough. Her minutes in that important competition were scarce.
That day they were playing at home at Montjuïc. They had arrived early for the pitch inspection.
Y/N had sat next to Daniela, wanting to keep her distance from Alexia’s orbit for a moment.
Daniela was easy. That’s what Alexia noticed.
Not easy in a superficial sense, but in the way she occupied space. She entered the locker room talking, laughing without fear of reprimand, touching arms, leaning without asking. Y/N didn’t move when Daniela hung onto her arm, telling her something nonsensical.
Like at that moment. Daniela was sitting to her left, but she seemed to want to maintain physical contact in a way Alexia didn’t like at all.
“Remember when we used to sneak out of the gym?” Daniela recalled, making those at the table laugh, including her brother. “Rodrigo was the one who covered for us.” Y/N laughed, an open, comfortable laugh. Alexia noticed immediately. Because it wasn’t the same laugh she used with her. That one was short, measured, as if she were careful not to get too close.
Before going out to warm up, Daniela was kneeling in front of her, hands on her legs and thighs, checking that everything was okay. “I hope it’s not like the last time you played against Wolfsburg.”
“It would do us good to have you as a player,” Y/N murmured in response. Daniela’s smile softened, nostalgic. “You played incredibly. You always did.” The alpha smiled back.
Daniela stood up and gave her a light shove on the shoulder. “Don’t say things like that or I’ll cry.” Both stayed in that nostalgia-filled bubble.
Alexia, meanwhile, was tightening the tape around her wrist more than necessary. She didn’t know exactly what bothered her about the situation. Daniela had a partner. Daniela had always been like that, even with her. Y/N wasn’t doing anything wrong.
And yet something churned in her chest.
Later in the hallway, Alexia heard them laughing. Both were walking together, talking quietly. Daniela gestured a lot, Y/N listened attentively, leaning toward her from time to time.
“It’s weird coming out here. Sometimes I feel like my knee would respond like when I used to play.”
“It does respond. Maybe in a different way.”
“You’re good at listening,” Daniela said as they reached the line where the players were lining up to warm up. “Not many people are.”
Y/N shrugged. “I guess I’m just good at it, or I just got used to it.”
Alexia felt it like a blow, because she had never asked what Y/N had to get used to.
The match was physical, but they managed to finish without many issues. Y/N had given two assists and scored one goal. One assist to Caro and the other to Alexia. Her goal came from an assist by Alexia. The universe liked to joke whenever it could.
That afternoon, Alexia was alone in the showers. She had stayed behind to check some team things and could finally shower.
Daniela shouldn’t know her like that.
The fleeting thought surprised her. The idea scared her. Not because it was unfair, but because it sounded like entitlement, and she knew she didn’t have that right.
She stepped out wrapped in a towel, stopping to look at herself in a nearby mirror. “It’s nothing,” she whispered. “It’s nothing.”
But when she stepped out and saw the empty locker room, stopping at the spot where Y/N had been sitting hours earlier, talking so closely with Daniela, her blood boiled again.
She didn’t want to look anymore. She didn’t want to recognize that same feeling from years ago that had always weighed more than it should. She didn’t want to accept that it hurt to see Y/N be close to someone she didn’t keep secrets from.
And above all, she didn’t want to admit that part of her, that irrational part, thought, If it’s not me… then it shouldn’t be anyone.
—
The comment was stupid. It wasn’t even loaded with anything else.
“Hey, Y/N,” Daniela said from the treatment table, laughing. “Can you come here for a second?”
Y/N walked over without thinking, resting one hand on the table while Daniela talked, gesturing as always. Mia was sitting on the floor, putting together a puzzle with pieces that didn’t seem to fit, but she was happy.
“Look, if you keep taking care of me like this, I’m going to steal you from Barça and keep you all to myself.” Laughter filled the room. Nothing strange. But for Alexia, who had just entered the room with a pair of socks hanging from her shoulder, she stopped dead in her tracks.
She didn’t know why that sentence stung so deeply. Maybe it was the way Y/N smiled, or maybe it was that Mia lifted her head at that exact moment, looking at Y/N as if the world aligned around her.
“Can you stop saying stupid things?” Alexia snapped louder than necessary. Everyone in the room fell silent. Daniela blinked, surprised.
“Uh… it was a joke, capi.”
Y/N slowly turned her head.
“Alexia…”
“No, really,” Alexia shot back, her voice tense. “We’re not here to play games. There’s still a season ahead of us, trophies to win.”
Mia dropped a puzzle piece, clearly startled by her mother’s behavior. “Mommy…” That was what brought Alexia back, what stopped her from saying more hurtful things.
She looked at her, saw the furrowed brow, the confusion on her face. Guilt hit her hard. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” Daniela said quickly, a bit uncomfortable. “I’m leaving.” Rodrigo cleared his throat, helping Daniela stand up. The noise slowly returned, but something had already broken. Y/N crouched in front of Mia.
“Hey, little fly, want to keep doing the puzzle?” Mia smiled, though not like before, and Alexia couldn’t stand seeing it.
“Mia, go get your bottle,” Alexia ordered seriously. “It’s in your backpack.” The girl obeyed, walking slowly.
When they were alone, the silence weighed heavily. “You didn’t have to talk like that,” Y/N said without real reproach, just tiredness. “Not to her.”
Alexia closed her eyes for a second. “I know.”
Mia came back, thinking everything would be normal again. “Can we keep doing the puzzle?” she asked, looking at the Frenchwoman, who gladly sat back down to continue.
The season went by quietly for Y/n. In the league, her name seemed to shine on the board, almost beyond dispute. She was consistent, reliable, intelligent—she didn’t need to stand out to be indispensable. In the cup competitions, even when there was rotation, she always found minutes: sometimes as a starter, sometimes coming on to close out big wins, but always within the plan.
“She’s a reliable player,” they said. “One of those who really adds value from the bench.” And it showed.
As the matchdays passed, Y/n began to fully integrate into the team. The jokes in the locker room no longer stopped when she walked in; nothing suggested that anything was wrong.
Until the Champions League.
The first match of the competition left her on the bench—nothing unusual. It was her first year back, the pace was different, and the opponent demanded experience. It makes sense, she told herself.
The second one was more uncomfortable. She came on late, when the match was already decided. She didn’t play badly, but she didn’t really have the time to make a difference either. And by the third match, she didn’t play at all.
No one commented on it openly. There were no murmurs, no complaints—just a strange feeling that something was quietly slipping out of place.
“Sometimes it happens,” Marta told her one random afternoon, shrugging. “In Europe they ask a bit more than what we usually give.” Y/n nodded. Of course she knew. Years playing in France, proving her worth, only to now barely see a glimmer of her name on the call-up list.
“Yeah… I guess so.” She didn’t sound convinced, but not angry either. It was a strange calm, as if deep down she knew why.
The whole team seemed to notice the subtle change in her.
In the way she watched from the bench—alert, tense, as if she were always half a second away from being called on, even when she knew that wouldn’t happen.
They noticed it when she started arriving earlier, staying later, training more than the others. They saw her play as if she constantly needed to prove something, increasingly distant, thinking about what she needed to do to become a rotation option again instead of just moral support on the bench.
Alexia seemed to notice the change up close. Of course she did—she had known that alpha for years. She knew when something bothered her or didn’t sit right. And she hated recognizing it day after day, because her daughter seemed to be the same way.
They were small details, but none escaped her. The way Y/n looked at the tactics board before Champions League matches. The way she trained just as hard—or harder—even when she didn’t play. The way she never asked why.
“Doesn’t it bother you?” Alexia blurted out one day, in the empty locker room before training.
“Bother me?” Y/n replied without looking at her, continuing to organize her cubby, avoiding the omega’s eyes.
“Not playing in a competition you dominate.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” she took a few seconds before answering, organizing her thoughts. “I just… don’t understand it,” she finally said. “When they signed me, it was because they wanted someone who really understood how to play this competition, and now they don’t even consider me for the last five minutes.”
Alexia felt her stomach tighten.
She knew what that felt like—not being an option even when you knew so much. She recognized that cold frustration her ex must be feeling, and it hurt not having any advice to give. She simply nodded, murmured something under her breath, and watched as the alpha left the locker room straight for the pitch.
The days passed, and the season was almost over—something that, for reasons Y/n couldn’t quite explain, made her uneasy.
Héctor had started showing up at the club more often. Nothing obvious or inappropriate—meetings, quick visits, conversations with people the team didn’t really know, but whom they knew carried weight.
“He seems to be around more lately,” Marta murmured to Irene and Alexia as the three of them sat in the dining area. They were outside Spain, preparing for the Champions League semifinal, watching how Héctor seemed, one way or another, to be lurking. They didn’t know whether it was around Alexia or Y/n.
“Maybe he wants to be more present.”
“Because he clearly cares about his omega.”
“I’m not his omega. He’s just my daughter’s father,” Alexia snapped, her tone sharper than usual. The other two nodded, though something didn’t quite add up.
Mia had gone with her grandma and her aunt Alba to watch Alexia play, visibly excited as she grasped the magnitude of the match her mom would play that evening.
Alexia met them in the hotel lobby where the team was staying.
“Is Y/n going to play today, mommy?” Mia asked innocently as Alexia picked her up.
The omega hesitated. “I don’t know, love.” Mia frowned, unconvinced.
“But she plays really well.”
Alexia didn’t know what to say. Alba noticed and told Mia to come with her to go buy something.
Héctor, passing through the lobby, couldn’t help but feel satisfied knowing Y/n wouldn’t play. Even though it hurt that his daughter didn’t ask about him, he believed everything served a greater purpose—for the well-being of his little family.
Y/n, meanwhile, was resting in the room she shared with Caroline and Ingrid, along with Daniela and Rodrigo, who besides being physiotherapists were emotional support for the foreign players.
“This isn’t normal,” Ingrid murmured, her head resting against Y/n’s headboard, watching her lie halfway across the bed, staring at the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
Rodrigo shook his head. “There are no real sporting reasons. Y/n is much more rested than you all—she plays far fewer minutes.”
“Thanks, mate,” Y/n muttered dryly.
“There must be other reasons,” Caro said, shrugging. “Reasons we don’t know.”
The room fell silent as everyone processed the older Norwegian’s words.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable at first—it was heavy.
“I don’t like this,” Daniela finally said, crossing her arms.
“What exactly?” Ingrid asked without looking at her.
“That no one is being transparent about this situation. That everything is ‘decisions,’ ‘moments,’ ‘contexts’ that just aren’t favorable for Y/n. It’s always like that when something isn’t purely sporting.”
Rodrigo crossed his arms, serious. “But we can’t make things up either. No one has said Y/n is out. She just… doesn’t get in.”
Y/n let out a low, dry laugh. “That’s the worst part. I’m not out—I’m just there, existing, knowing I can help but without the chance to actually do it. It’s like I’m suspended.”
Caroline turned toward her, a clear question on her face. “Suspended?”
“Like I’m on pause,” she shrugged, still staring at the ceiling. “They don’t criticize me, they don’t correct me, they don’t ask more of me… they’re just waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
This time Y/n took longer to answer. “I don’t know.”
And with that, they all fell silent again.
That night, Daniela couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed small moments from the day—almost trivial ones.
The assistant coach avoiding eye contact with Y/n when discussing the next day’s match. The quick gesture from the head coach when she asked if there would be changes in the setup. The way conversations grew vague whenever rotation came up.
But above all, it was her friend’s forced calm.
There was no anger, no reproach, not even open disappointment. And that scared her more than she wanted to admit.
The next day, during pre-match preparations, Alexia walked beside the alpha. “If this gets too much for you…” she started, unsure how to finish.
“Too much?” Y/n looked at her, surprised.
“I mean… if you need something, to talk to someone… I’m here.”
Y/n smiled faintly. “Thanks, capi, but I’m fine.” And she kept walking beside the Swede, who started telling her stories about her hometown.
At the stadium, Héctor appeared in the VIP box at the last minute. He didn’t draw attention, didn’t greet anyone in particular, didn’t do anything overtly suspicious.
But Alexia saw him speak with a member of the staff, saw the nod, saw that short, polite smile he used. Nothing more than that—yet an uncomfortable chill ran down her spine.
When the starting lineup was announced, Mia sat between Alba and her grandma, swinging her legs excitedly, wearing a Barcelona shirt that was still a bit too big, her mom’s number on the back.
“Isn’t Y/n there?” she asked.
“She is, she just isn’t going to play yet,” Alba replied, noticing Mia’s disappointment.
“They always say that.”
On the other side, Y/n clapped from the bench, shouting her teammates’ names, cheering them on.
The staff shouted with her, seemed to understand her—that longing to play a match like this again—but no one seemed willing to do anything to help her. They just watched as she slowly unraveled. Especially Daniela, who had already noticed how her friend’s eyes no longer shone the way they did when she first arrived.
Halftime came, along with encouragement and tactical advice. Piña walked beside Y/n toward the locker room.
“Do you know how I can get past their defender? I’ve tried everything I can think of.”
Y/n looked at her. She knew exactly how she could help—she had studied every opposing player to find their weaknesses; that was her job, after all.
“You need to play off Caro or Vicky. They need to carry the ball and open the field a bit more. She’s man-marking you—you have to make her think you’ll join the play,” she explained. Piña nodded, listening closely. “Also, she has a slight weakness defending on her left side. Force her to shift the other way. When she sees you joining the play, she’ll be left with only one option—to turn—and that’ll cost her time. The moment she does, open the space. Caro or Vicky should send in a cross, and that’s your chance to score. You have to be quick, Piña.”
She finished speaking, lightly bumped her shoulder, and moved past her.
In the locker room, the coach began talking about first-half mistakes. Y/n listened to half the talk before heading back out to sit on the bench.
What was the point of listening if they weren’t going to take her into account?
They returned to the pitch. Some went to warm up, others grabbed water before continuing the fight to reach the final.
It wasn’t until the 60th minute that Piña managed to do exactly what Y/n had told her. A stunning volley—no chance for the goalkeeper to even move.
The bench erupted. With a two-goal lead, they had one foot in the final.
That was the last goal of the match. Final score: 3–1.
When the final whistle blew and they advanced, there were hugs, shouts, tears. Y/n hugged everyone, smiled in every photo—a measured happiness.
The celebration was huge, from the locker room to the bus. Everyone sang, danced, celebrated wildly.
Y/n, however, was calmer. As much as she wanted to celebrate, the victory felt чужena—foreign.
At the hotel, a few fans were waiting—chants, names, requests for photos. Most players stayed, signing and celebrating. Y/n stayed only a few minutes, then lied about leg pain so she could return quickly to her room and escape the pressure in her chest that had followed her for months.
Ingrid looked at her doubtfully but accepted the excuse, letting her go on the condition that she’d call if it got worse.
She walked upstairs heavily, her head pounding with everything that had been circling her mind for the past three hours. Decisions she had made. Choices she had taken. Everything seemed to hurt twice as much. Everything felt like her fault—for accepting a contract that could turn against her.
She reached her room, slowly searching for her key.
“Congratulations, Giraud.”
She tensed at the sound of that voice.
“Thank you, Almirall,” she replied, trying to sound polite but coming out curt. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.
“I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for this club… and for taking care of my daughter these past months. You’re an alpha to be respected.” The last part was said mockingly, watching her reaction.
“Mmh. Too bad your own daughter doesn’t consider you a father. Have a good night,” Y/n replied, closing the door behind her and heading straight for the bed.
She dropped her bag and collapsed onto the mattress, her body aching from hours of tension.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she ignored it. She stood up slowly and went straight to the shower, leaving the phone charging on the nightstand.
She took her time. Everything felt like it was happening all at once—and like nothing was happening at all.
She stepped out, wrapped herself in her robe, and sat at the foot of the bed, staring at the crest shining in front of her. Maybe it was life’s irony, but every time she wore that crest, she seemed to lose something. People. Friends. Family. Minutes. Matches. The desire to keep playing.
She was about to keep mentally punishing herself when her phone buzzed again, more insistently. Her heart started racing, as if something bad were about to happen.
She walked over and picked it up, her hands trembling slightly as she unlocked it.
Forty Instagram notifications, among others. She opened her family messages first—congratulating her on the victory, lamenting that she hadn’t played. Messages from Daniela, Rodrigo, friends from France. She replied to each one.
She was about to turn the phone off when she saw it.
An email from the club.
“Loan for one season.”
She froze, unsure whether to open it or leave it for the next day.
“Through this email, we inform you that an agreement has been reached between FC Barcelona, Chelsea Football Club, and the management of player Y/N Giraud for a one-season loan to the English club…”
She stopped reading. The phone slipped from her hands and hit the floor with a dull thud.
Chelsea.
The same team they had defeated less than two hours earlier.
The same team she had sworn she would never play for.
The silence in the room became deafening.
Chelsea.
The word repeated itself over and over, as if her mind couldn’t accept its shape. It wasn’t just a club—it was a border, a line she had sworn never to cross. Arsenal had been her home for so long, and now she would return as part of the enemy.
She crouched down slowly, picking up her phone with clumsy fingers. She looked at the email again, forcing herself to read it all the way through this time, as if she might find a hidden clause saying it was a joke.
There wasn’t one. Everything was cold, administrative, precise.
Sporting decision. Benefit for the player’s development. Opportunity for minutes and international projection.
Everything she hadn’t been given in the Champions League, now neatly packaged as a solution—at a club she didn’t want.
She let herself fall back against the bed, her spine resting on the mattress, the still-damp robe clinging to her skin. For the first time in months, she felt something other than that suspended calm.
Anger.
Deep, exhausted anger.
“So that was it,” she murmured to the air. “That’s what they were waiting for.”
The vague talks, the evasive looks, the it’s not the right moment. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust her—it was that they no longer needed her there.
Her phone buzzed again. Alexia.
Y/N didn’t answer. Not because she didn’t want to—or partly because of that—but also because she didn’t know what she would say.
Alexia was sitting on the hotel bed with Mia already asleep beside her, hugging a Barça shirt that wasn’t hers. She had tried to celebrate, to smile, to be present… but something still didn’t sit right in her chest.
The undelivered message unsettled her more than she expected.
She called. Nothing.
“Shit,” she whispered, running a hand over her face. This wasn’t normal. She always replied, even if it was just We’ll talk later.
Mia stirred in her sleep, frowning slightly. “Mommy…” she murmured, half-asleep. “Is Y/N sad?”
Alexia froze.
“Why do you say that, love?”
“She didn’t smile the same today,” Mia answered, with the crushing logic of someone who sees without filters. “When we win, she always smiles big.”
Alexia closed her eyes. “Sometimes adults are tired,” she said—without convincing even herself.
Mia opened her eyes a little, drowsy. “Are they going to send her far away?”
Alexia’s heart lurched. “Who told you that?”
“No one,” she replied, shrugging. “But when people leave, they get like that first.”
Alexia hugged her daughter tightly—too tightly. Because she felt it too.
Back in her room, Y/N finally typed a message.
Capi, we’ll talk tomorrow. I’m fine. Really.
A lie.
She stood up and pulled the curtain open just enough to see the sleeping city. She thought about the stadium, the bench, the final they would play without her.
She thought about Mia. The park. Ice cream.
She closed her eyes. “Why do I always end up leaving?” she whispered. “Even when I don’t want to.”
Chelsea wasn’t just a loan.
It was confirmation that, once again, she had been a temporary solution in everyone’s life.
And this time, they hadn’t even given her the chance to decide whether she wanted to stay.
I've already finished the beginning and ending; I just need to develop the middle section properly, and then I can upload the third chapter muejeje
Dónde está la historia donde mencionas a Mia?
Es de "your reflection, my secret" :D
Oh no puedes subir eso sin previo aviso (es broma).
Si ya de por si la historia es súper interesante, si encima pones eso, no sé cómo se supone que deba esperar hasta que esté completo para leerlo.
Un poco de drama a la historia no le vendría mal, (pero tampoco mucho ten piedad)
Alexia sinceramente debería decir la verdad lo antes posible porque si no todo se va a complicar aún más.
Espero que todo esté bien y que estés cuidando de tu salud.
Un abrazo muy fuerte.
Perdooona, es que ya no me aguanto las ganas de subirlo, aunque no lleve ni la mitad.
Estoy intentando escribir lo más rápido que puedo y ni aún así puedo terminarla 😭
El drama no será taaaaan fuerte, creeme, algo poco para mantener la cosa interesante, quizá un poco de odio, pero nada más que eso 😉
Alexia va a tener problemas de comunicación y de SABER HACER LAS COSAS BIEN, mi niña no ha aprendido
Espero que tú también estés bien ❤️🩹 y gracias por el mensaje.
Un abrazo amiguiñe 🫂
