warnings/notes ➜ language. i used google for all translations (hopefully they’re accurate).
summary ➜ alejandro’s taking you home to meet his family, but the only spanish you know is cuss words and whatever duolingo can squeeze into your brain at 2 a.m. he swears you’ve got nothing to worry about, you’re not so sure.
you’ve been deep in the trenches of youtube for three days now. full-on war mode. “basic spanish phrases to survive meeting your boyfriend’s mom” is typed in the search bar and you’ve got six tabs open: duolingo, a random blog by a girl named beth who apparently married a spaniard, your notes app full of random spanish words, a spanish podcast playing in the background on 1.25x speed like you actually understand anything, and then, somewhere in the mess, the tab with your class assignment due in two days—forgotten, abandoned, neglected like your gym subscription and that plant you swore you’d keep alive.
you press play on yet another video, elbow propped on your knee, pen in hand.
“hola, señora. mucho gusto.”
you pause. repeat, brows furrowed like you might actually be doing quantum physics.
“hola, señor… señor-ra… mushy gusto.” you close your eyes and groan. your whole body slumps back into the mattress like you’ve just been defeated in a battle no one prepared you for. you toss the pen to the side dramatically. it bounces off the bed and disappears under your dresser, but you don’t care. let it go. convince yourself that it’s over for you.
you’re so deep in the pit, you don’t even hear alejandro walk in. he’s standing at the door with a water bottle in hand, watching you mumble to yourself like a girl possessed.
you’re halfway into whispering, “¿yo... uh, quiero… to… be polite... para your madre…” when you finally see him out of the corner of your eye.
he’s already grinning. that soft, smug smirk he does when he knows he’s about to be annoying.
you turn your head toward him, squinting, your index finger already pointed in his direction like a warning shot. “don’t even play with me right now, ale. i’m fighting for my life.”
alejandro raises both hands like he’s surrendering, but that damn smile is still on his face.
“baby, what is this?” he asks, doesn’t even bother hiding his amusement as he drops his keys on the nightstand and toes his shoes off before falling back onto the bed next to you.
you shove the laptop into his lap like it personally offended you. “that is me trying to not embarrass you in front of your family.”
he clicks the touchpad, squinting at the screen. the youtube video is paused mid-sentence, the lady frozen with a bright smile and big earrings, and the title below says “50 essential phrases before meeting la suegra.”
he glances at your notes app, where you’ve written:
– “moochy goose-toe” = nice to meet you
– “perrrrddooon” = sorry / excuse me?
– “dios mio” = omg (ale says this a lot when i mess up)
– “puta” = not for polite convos 😭
he snorts, “why is ‘puta’ on here?”
“because you taught me that first, and you keep saying it during fifa, so now i’m scared it’s gonna pop out by accident if your mom asks me a question i don’t understand.”
he snickers, tucks your freshly done braids behind your ear, then leans in, voice soft. “deja de pensar tanto, baby. you’ll be just fine.”
—
you try to. genuinely, you do. but you just can’t stop overthinking.
because the thing is… this matters to you. a lot.
not just because you want to make a good impression. but because you’ve seen the way alejandro lights up when he talks to his family. when he’s on the phone with his mom and his voice gets all boyish. when he switches to catalan mid-sentence without realising. when he’s laughing so hard at something his cousin said that he’s clutching his stomach, and you’re sitting there smiling, pretending like you caught the joke even though you understood none of it.
you want to be part of that. even if it’s just a little. even if it’s just being able to say “thank you” properly when his grandmother hands you a plate. you want them to see you and know you tried.
so, you keep practicing.
you record yourself. play it back. cringe. repeat.
he catches you again two days later, whispering phrases under your breath while brushing your teeth.
“mi nombre es y/n. tengo… treinti… treintiocho años?”
he leans against the doorframe, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, that amused little smile playing on his lips. “baby, you’re twenty-two. not thirty-eight.”
you pause mid-brush, glare at him through the mirror with a mouth full of foam. “shut up. you know that’s what i meant.”
—
the day of, you’re damn near hyperventilating.
you spent two hours trying on outfits, sending your best friend voice notes like “should i wear the jeans or the dress? jeans feel chill but the dress says i’m respectable. does my ‘respectable’ scream ‘boring?’ does this say ‘wife me?’ do i even want to be wifed right now or do i just want them to not hate me?”
you end up wearing the dress. simple, soft yellow. the one he once said made you look like a sunflower. you also wear the bracelet he got you in mallorca. just for luck.
during the drive to his parents’ house, your hand is shaking slightly. he notices. doesn’t say anything. just reaches over and takes it, warm and calm and reassuring. his thumb strokes over your knuckles the whole ride. you don’t talk much, just music playing softly in the background. your heart’s in your throat.
when you get there, his mom’s waiting at the door.
you don’t even get to say anything before she pulls you into a hug. tight, warm. she’s shorter than you expected. smells like citrus and something floral. her hands are soft.
“bienvenida, mi niña,” she says.
you choke out a shaky “gracias” and pray to every god that she doesn’t say anything else yet because your brain has shut down and you’re sure if she asks you what day it is, you’ll say “quesadilla.”
she pulls back, cups your face like she’s known you forever, and then looks at alejandro with this smile that makes your chest warm. he leans down, kisses her cheek, and says something in spanish that makes her laugh. you stand there like a deer in headlights.
his dad’s there too. quieter. handshake rather than a hug. kind eyes. says “mucho gusto” and you blurt it back too fast, too panicked. but he just smiles and gestures you inside.
the house smells like dinner already—garlic, tomatoes, something roasting. there’s family photos on the wall. alejandro’s baby picture in a barça kit. you nudge him and whisper, “you had a big head.”
“still do, to be fair.” he whispers back.
you laugh because, yeah. he definitely still does.
—
the evening is… better than you feared.
you understand about 30% of the conversation. 40% on a good stretch if someone points at something while they’re talking. his cousin speaks slow enough for you to catch stuff. his grandmother kisses your cheeks and talks to you like you do understand, even though you clearly don’t, and you kind of love her for that.
you catch alejandro watching you a lot. when you’re fumbling through a sentence. when you’re smiling politely even though you’re lost. when you finally manage to say something right and his aunt claps a little and you glow with pride. he watches you like you’re the most unreal thing in the room. like he can’t believe someone like you wandered into his life and stayed.
when you excuse yourself to the bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror and whisper, “you’re doing okay. you haven’t called anyone a bitch by accident yet. that’s a win.”
and that is a win.
on the way home, you finally exhale. really exhale. you sink back in the passenger seat of his mercedes, the leather warm against your thighs, the city lights slipping in through the windshield and dancing across your skin, and you let your head fall onto his shoulder. he doesn’t say anything at first, just instinctively tilts his head and rests his cheek against your hair for a few slow seconds.
“told you they’d love you,” he says after a while, his voice low, mellowed out by the road.
“not with the way i embarrassed myself.” you scoff, nose wrinkling. “i literally said ‘your chicken is very sexy’ instead of ‘very tasty.’”
he snorts, a quiet, half-muffled little laugh. “yeah, my uncle’s probably still laughing about that.”
“see? that’s exactly why i’m never showing my face there again.”
he hums — a sound sitting somewhere between affection and amusement — and leans over to kiss your temple at the next red light. “kind of impossible since they already asked me to invite you to the next family barbecue.”
you lift your head just enough to look up at him. he doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but you can see the smile in his face.
“really?” you ask, voice small. maybe even a little hopeful.
he nods. “really.”
you can’t help but smile into the sleeve of his hoodie, your chest warming in ways you can hardly explain.
—
later, when you’re back at your apartment and brushing your teeth side by side, you catch him watching you in the mirror.
“what?” you ask, mouth full of foam, half glaring.
he shrugs, pretending to play it off, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. it’s all sweet. all soft. all charm.
“nothing.”
you rinse, spit, wipe your mouth on a towel, and flick a little water in his direction. “alejandro.”
he chuckles, stepping closer, arms wrapping around your waist from behind. his chin settles on your shoulder, and you both look at yourselves in the mirror — this picture of domesticity you never imagined but somehow ended up in.
“it’s nothing,” he repeats, quieter this time. “just… today was nice, that’s all. felt good to finally have all the people i love in one room.”
you lean back into him, breathing him in, the curve of your spine fitting perfectly against him. and you realise that, yeah. maybe your spanish still sucks. maybe you’ll always be a few beats behind the jokes, maybe the grammar will never come naturally.
but none of it matters.
you don’t have to be fluent in his language to be his.
your voice is a little shy when you ask, “wanna know what else i learned to say in spanish?”
he kisses your cheek, slow and gentle. “what?”
your hand comes up to rest over his on your stomach, fingers lacing gently. then, a little nervous, you say it:
“estoy tan enamorada de ti que me duele un poquito.”
he blinks. then smiles. all teeth, all love. all that affection he doesn’t bother hiding when it’s just you.
“dilo otra vez,” he says, kissing your shoulder. then the side of your neck. “say it again.”
so you do. a little bolder this time. a little more sure. “estoy tan enamorada de ti que me duele un poquito.”
he turns you around with a softness that makes your knees a little weak, hands never leaving your hips. he’s looking at you like you hung the moon, like you saying those words just rewired something in him.
“yo también,” he says, his voice lower now. “yo también estoy enamorado de ti.” his fingers come up to brush your jaw, thumb grazing the corner of your mouth. “y lo voy a estar. siempre.”
you blink up at him, heart slamming so hard against your ribs it almost drowns out your voice.
“yeah?” you whisper.
he nods, forehead pressing to yours, noses brushing.
“forever.”
and in that moment — toothbrushes on the counter, bathroom mirror slightly fogged from your shower, his hands still steady on your hips— you believe him.
you believe all of it. every syllable.
you don’t need a translator to understand love when it sounds like this.
summary: your caption sends the internet in a spiral
liked by lamineyamal, alejandrobalde, jkeey4 and 473,992 others
yourusername opened up the score sheet with a banger🙏🏽
user6 ABSOLUTE NET BREAKER
user2 absolutely right!
user9 😭😭Ale done nearly jumped over the barrier to celebrate with her
raphinha dunked on Madrid 😮💨
yourusername it’s only right that i do
lamineyamal ESSSOOO🔥🔥🔥
alejandrobalde you never fail to blow me away with your skills
yourusername amor!🥹❤️
alejandrobalde i love you❤️
yourusername yo tambien❤️
user2 they are so cute
user1 my favourite couple fr
liked by alejandrobalde, lamineyamal, alexiaputellas and 483,220 others
yourusername forever mine, forever Barça💙❤️
user7 oh they are taking it!
alexiaputellas forever and ever kiddo!
aitanabonmati until the end little one
user9 they're end game
alejandrobalde until the wheels fall off amor❤️
yourusername ❤️always and forever
lamineyamal EWWW THEY'RE BEING SAPPY AGAIN
frenkiedejong log off for me.
pedri enough...
user8 the fathers have spoken lmaoooo
liked by fcbarcelona, yourusername, user8, and 501,384 others
alejandrobalde champions league nights❤️
user6 double Barca fixture? i am SAT
user7 watching on two devices fr
user9 mogging the hell out of us
yourusername 🤷🏽♀️sharpest looking players if you ask me
alejandrobalde out dress and out shine baby🤭
lamineyamal you wish.
ericgarciam_ okay delusionalists
yourusername ofc the single speak up.
raphinha oh she GOT you two LMAOOOO
user5 the sibling rivalry is too good lmaooo
marcusrashford 🔥don't hurt em now
liked by yourusername, xavisimons, lamineyamal and 728,914 others
alejandrobalde 🐆+3
user8 yesssir
user2 with your biggest supporter fr
marcusrashford 👉🏽😃
alejandrobalde 🔥🔥
yourusername beautiful performance amor!🔥❤️
alejandrobalde 🫵🏽❤️
lamineyamal 🔥🔥
raphinha standard procedure
fcbarcelona 🏃🏽♀️💨
user3 the support is so cute man
xavisimons lets go hermanooo
liked by raphina, aitanabonmati, user2 and 283,092 others
yourusername Vogue said having a boyfriend was cringe, so i got rid of mine🤷🏽♀️
user6 excuse me?😃
user9 she joking right?
user3 YN????
user2 no Balde in her likes…. i’m scared yall
lamineyamal ANSWER THE BLOODY PHONE
vickeylopezz FINALLY NO MORE STINKY BOY TALK
alexiaputellas 🫂❤️i’m so sorry amor, we didn’t like him anyways
ona yup, boring , stinky boy🍅🍅
marialeonn16 🧱🧱🧱 tomato’s are too soft
aitanabonmati 🥹girls night?
user6 😭😭😭the girls are having AT him omds
raphinha this is how i find out?….
xavisimons hello??? this was supposed to be end game?????
user3 i don’t believe in love anymore
liked by user9, user3, user2 and 108,837 others
barcaupdates Alejandro Balde arriving to training today
user7 oh baby he looks dejected
user6 brother looks exhausted
user2 😭💔💔
user9 oh Ale it’s alright, you’ll be fine pookie
user4 this is so heart breaking
user0 yeah I don't believe in love anymore
user2 they were supposed to be end game...
liked by 680,976 others
yourusername home bound
comments have been closed
liked by 639,002 others
alejandrobalde home🙏🏽
comments have been turned off
liked by alejandrobalde, alexiaputellas, ona and 1,283,003 others
yourusername got rid of my boyfriend and got a fiance instead 😋
user8 GIRL YOU WORRIED US
user3 OH MY DAYS????
user5 congratulations but you could have announced this better
alejandrobalde 😭i love you but let’s not do this again
Summary : Alejandro and reader cannot get enough of one another.
Warnings (+18) : a couple in love but basically smut - WK : 2.3K
A/N : I'm practicing reading short stories. It shouldn't even be funny but I did struggle a bit. Maybe I should try to post shorter stories more often...Ofc, feel free to tell me what you think. Enjoy bc I might wake up and delete it tomorrow lol.
Writing takes a lot of time, if you enjoyed, please reblog, comment and interact. Don't be shy. That's why the anon button exists. English is not my first language.
She should have known that night would be special. For the first time in two years, Alejandro finally found time to attend her best friend's birthday party with her. Usually, she is that one girl in a relationship who never shows up with her boyfriend. So much so, certain girls started to believe she was lying about her relationship status.
Did anybody ever see her boyfriend? Does he really exist? Despite people questioning, she never took the comments at heart. Except for her two best friends, Kira and Alyssa, no one knew about her boyfriend's identity, and things were better that way.
With or without his presence, she is the life of the party. The only difference is that having Alejandro by her side would mean fewer disturbances while she is dancing or simply speaking with guests.
Alejandro is a few years younger than her, but she admires his confidence. Contrary to her ex, he never tried to dim her light or police her outfits. Actually, he enjoys seeing her in sexy outfits to take them off when she comes back home.
They are almost two hours late, but it does not matter as long as they look good. This is what they often said to themselves to justify their frequent delays. Reggaeton music blasted in the privatised bar. Alejandro confidently grabs her hand and navigates through the crowd, a voluminous bag swinging in his other hand.
Many heads turn around, double-checking his face just to make sure they are not dreaming or imagining anything. Certain girls, including those who were commenting about her life, longingly stare at him, drinking in each facial feature. She walks right behind him, her head held high like a peacock. Her short black dress emphasised each curve of her body.
”There he finally is!” Kira, the birthday girl, screams over the music. The two of them crack a laugh before hugging each other. Although they only met a few times, Kira gets along with Alejandro and vice versa.
”Feliz cumpleaños, Kira!”
”Thank you, Ale!”
Alyssa followed with a handshake, meeting him for the first time. She feels plenty of pairs of eyes on them but keeps a straight face. They came for Kira, not to parade their relationship around. The two women greet each other with their usual excitement and contagious joy.
”My girl! Tonight 's the night. It’s going down!”
”Yas, that’s the energy. Thank you for coming and thank you for the gift. Thanks Ale for the presence too.”
Of course, she barely has time to properly greet her friends that Alejandro is surrounded by two men, or should she say Barcelona fans. It took time to accept that going outside often means being disturbed by admirers, but she eventually grew used to it. However, Kira had another opinion on the matter. She comes between Alejandro and the two men.
”I know everybody is starstruck, but he came to celebrate me and I won’t tolerate someone else stealing my spot, so please treat him like you would treat anyone else, thank you. If not, I won’t mind kicking some butts out. Thanks for understanding and listening.” That woman will never cease to amaze her.
The boldness, the fearlessness, the confidence. What is there not to love about Kira? The message goes off without a hitch as the small crowd that gathered around him slowly divides. Alyssa winks at her, raising an alcoholic cocktail in her direction.
****
At first, she stays with Alejandro, giving him time to accommodate. He tries to reassure her in vain. She is very stubborn. ”I’m not a child. Go dance with your friends. It’s ok, princesa.”
“Yeah, but you’re not going to stand there alone.”
”Todo bien. I’m fine watching you dancing.” He pauses, gently wrapping his arm around her waist. ”Especially in that dress.” She recognises those eyes. That timid lip biting and lustful glimpse which often ended with her screaming his name.
She jokes, ”Yeah, you’re a menace. Let me join my girls!” One small peck on his lips and she is on her way to the dancefloor. ”Wait, do you want me to hold your purse?”
“No, it’s fine, bebe. I don’t want to ruin my outfit.” That response earns her a playful eye roll before she hops to her friends. It takes a few minutes for the trio to get attention on the dancefloor. The three of them singing, rapping or dancing to whatever song the DJ had decided to play.
Occasionally, she would steal glances at Alejandro, just to make sure he was not too bored. After all, he came to spend some time with her. The scans stopped when she realised he found another supportive boyfriend to talk to. Now she can fully focus on her dancing skills and friends.
Ten songs later, Alyssa discreetly leans in, whispering in her ear, ”Some girl is trying to steal your man, girl. Watch out!” She turns her head, a grin plastered on her face as she stares at the scene. A beautiful brunette with big brown eyes openly flirting with Ale. Another scenario she is more than familiar with.
”Nobody can come between us, Lyssa. Let her laugh as hard as she wants. She’s still not getting his contact.”
”So you’re not going to do anything?”
“Of course, I’ll go over there, but I prefer to wait a bit. It’s funnier.” Alyssa furrows her eyebrows, a barely amused smile on her face.
”You’re terrible, girl.”
Within three minutes, she shows up, interrupting another exaggerated laugh from the brunette. Alejandro immediately shifts his focus on her with his special stare. The one that barely hid the love he has for her. That special cocktail of admiration, desire and something words could not describe. All she knows is that it never fails to make her feel special, like a star shining in the dark sky.
“Ariel, this is my girlfriend, YN, as I mentioned earlier.” The previous laugh turns into something sourer, less welcoming. She plays into it and places her hand on his torso.
”Nice to meet you, Ariel. Ale, bebe, come dance with me.”
Without hesitation, he says goodbye to Ariel and follows her to the dancefloor. Nicky Jam is blasting in the background as she starts moving her hips to the rhythm of the music. The perfect occasion to tease her boyfriend. She can feel curious stares at them, even envious ones, but it does not stop her from having her fun. Sex is great, but the tension right before is even better.
She feels his eyes burning with desire. The dim light did not change much. Just like that, she continues. She keeps rotating her hips like it is a profession. That little game is not ending up well for her. Unless ”finishing well” means mewling until he allows her to come. Outside the bedroom, their dynamic is completely different, quite the opposite of whatever happens inside the bedroom.
Alejandro places his hands on her hips, his lips finding her neck. ”Ale, we’re in public.” Her protest falls on deaf ears. He keeps kissing her, his other hand gently applying pressure on the pitch of her stomach.
”I don’t really care, princesa. You’re too sexy.”
”Give me at least two more hours, bebe.” He kisses her cheek as a response.
****
After Kira blew her candles, opened her gifts and lit up the dancefloor with her two best friends, the time has come for them to leave. The more minutes passed by, the harder it got to resist the growing heat between her legs each time she stares at Alejandro or dances with him. Great dancing skills that often brought attention each time they attended a party.
She has waited long enough and enjoyed with her girls. Now she could be selfish with her time. Alejandro is saying goodbye to the fewest men he interacted with, as she did the same with her girls.
”We’re going back home, girl.”
Kira’s eyes widen in surprise. “Already? You guys are that tired?”
She replies with a wink. “Not tired, just very horny.”
Kira rolls her eyes with a smirk. “You nasty girl. I mean, Alyssa predicted it. The way you’ve been grinding on him… Anyway, have fun and try not to get pregnant.”
The two woman giggles which her sigh, a fake annoyance. ”Stop jinxing me.”
Alyssa adds up, ”She’s right to be worried. We know he put you through the mattress.”
Right when she is about to respond, ”You better – ” Alejandro joins them, his arm wrapping around her waist like he usually does.
“Should we go, princesa?”
”Yeah, let’s go.”
Her two friends barely hide their smirk when the couple finally say goodbye to them. She will have to put her phone on mute for the rest of the weekend. Either way, none of it truly mattered. The only thing on her mind is the bedroom.
****
They barely make it to the bedroom before her purse and her shoes are already lying on the floor. Their kisses a symbol of the fire that had been pending over their heads throughout the entire night.
”Go wait for me in bed. Don’t undress. Legs wide open. No panties. Okay princesa?” The enthusiasm behind her nod is almost laughable. Still, at the moment, no one else matters except the wetness between her legs.
She sees the star for the second time of the night. Her wide-open legs offering a good view of one of his favourite snacks. Contrary to her exes, Alejandro enjoys pleasing her. She could tell. It is not a chore for him. It is a personal pleasure.
The way that mouth and tongue work in harmony, slurping, licking and devouring her, never fails to amaze her. Beyond the skills, it is that playful stare combined with a barely hidden smirk.
He keeps her legs in place, spread in order to lap her essence. If it were not for his grip, her legs would have given way. She tries to calm her body by fisting the sheet and pulling on his hair with the other hand. That same heat forms at the pit of her stomach, her legs slowly signalling her second orgasm of the night.
"You taste so fucking good. I could do it all night long, princesa. The sounds of his mouth on her core, combined with the sight of her juices mingling with his saliva, are more than sufficient to push her over the edge.
"Yeah, princesa. Give me more to lap on. Let me clean you up." Her legs fall on his shoulders, trapping him right where he wanted. Apparently, nothing could stop him.
****
Same silent moans, same tears forming at the corner of her eyes and same grip on the sheets. The mattress succumbs beneath the force of his thrusts. She feels every thrust echoing through her body. In that moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the intensity of their connection. The perfect rhythm: slow and deep, just how she likes it. He places one hand on her lower stomach.
"You feel so fucking good, joder. I'll never get tired of you, princesa." He leans in to capture her lips, his fingers digging into her cheeks to deepen the passionate kiss. She could have melted right there. The way he confidently claims her lips always get her even two years later. To this day, she remembers how their first kiss had left her speechless.
No time to process what is actually happening. In a swift move, she is forced to lie flat on her stomach. He plants kisses all over her neck and back before plunging right back inside of her. Another loud moan slips past her lips. Same rhythm, the one that knocks air out of her lungs. It does not matter how hard she tries. Her eyes close under the wave of pleasure.
”You’re so deep, bebe.”
”And you love it, don’t you?”
Nonsense. She cannot tell what she is even saying. No proper English words come out of a full mouth. Saliva pools around the corner of her mouth. He keeps slamming deeper and deeper, the headboard banging against the wall as they both chase another high. The mattress follows the firmness of his strokes, his fingers inside of her mouth, leaving her drooling all over the sheets.
”Ale!”
”I know, Princesa. I know.”
It is the confidence in his voice. He knows that body by heart. He plays it like a musician plays the guitar. He knows exactly what to do to get that special note. The angle, the movement, the intensity – he knows it all. ”Yes, bebe, yes!” Apparently her third high of the night does not stop him. He keeps pounding into her until there is no more room to go further. As per usual, her pleasure only triggers his own. He stays there, enjoying the warmth and sensations of her walls fluttering around him.
”Bebe, fuck! Fill me.” Spurt after spurt, he coats her insides, leaving her panting and moaning. A kink that only surfaced after her encounters with him. Never before could she have imagined herself saying those words. The girls were right. Sometimes good sex will change your mind.
She breathes out, ”Damn, Ale.”
More kisses on her back and neck as he whispers in her ear. ”I should come with you more often.” To that she agrees with a tired grin on her face. Sleep is lurking right around the corner, but she will not succumb. Not yet. Not without hugs, kisses and pillow talk. She enjoyed that much.
summary: a jumbotron moment exposes your relationship
note: i’ll get to the requests i just thought of this and had to get it out of my system even though i’m still very upset with his nonsense performance
the tackle was late, charged with anger and sloppy, caught your fiancé’s ankle and sent him flying to the floor clutching his foot in pain, minutes later the medics were on and then he was up, deciding to shake it off for the sake of his club, but from the way he was limping around uncomfortably you knew he was sucking it up.
you watched on, sandwiched between Edi and his mother as Ale doubled over, asking Flick to sub him off. Your mind was swirling with worry so much you hadn’t realised the camera had caught your worried faces, panning from his sister, to his mother, to you and the Edi as you all worriedly kept your gaze Ale who hobbled off into the tunnel.
After getting Ale home, some pain killers in his system and sleep on his mind, is only when you’d opened your phone, realisation dawning that you’d be outed by the Barca camera man for thousands to see and the fans were freaking out.
liked by ericgm3, yourusername, lamineyamal and 429,992 others
alejandrobalde secret is out, can’t wait to show you off now Mrs Balde💍❤️
Hi can u do a fic with bf alejandro balde and gf reader are having a little argument but ale fixes it after cooling down
Level head- Alejandro Balde
pairing: Balde x gf!reader
note: 🧍🏾♀️i hope to God this makes sense
the ticking noise coming from the clock felt like a timer, counting down the seconds to when Ale would walk through that door and break up with you, declare his tiredness with dealing with your bursts of anger and kick you out of his place.
the argument wasn't even supposed to get that far, but the tabloids and thought of your boyfriend going out to party with Lamine and his older girlfriend sparked an anger that caught you off guard
"oh so you just want to go party with older girls?" you say with an eye roll
"what?" Ale asked "I didn't even say that"
"you might as well have" you say bitterly "clubs is exactly how Lamine met that woman"
"that woman is also his girlfriend" Ale corrected
"right of cause, stand up for her and don't respect your own girlfriend" you snap
"why are you spinning this out of context" Ale asked feeling his own anger boil up
"my boyfriend wants to go to some 21+ club where Lamine is probably gonna get snuck in and be surrounded by near naked women all night, who are going to throw themselves at an incredibly drunk you" you list "excuse me for feeling some type of way about this"
"what is it? you want to come with or you don't trust me?" Ale shot at you
"I don't do clubs" you sneer
"so you don't trust me!" Ale yells "that's great to know"
he doesn't give you a chance to answer because one second hes in front of you, and the next the door is slamming signalling his departure.
Your pride doesn't allow you to text Lamine, knowing that hes probably heard Ale's side but the second the clock strikes 9PM, you've swallowed it and called the boy
"hey" you say when he answers "have you, uhm have you heard from or seen Ale?"
"you just missed him" Lamine says flatly "he left"
"oh, thanks, sorry for bothering you" you say going to hang up
"Look" he says quickly "Ale's not like me, he really loves you, it doesn't matter how many girls throw themselves at him, his eyes have always been on you, his goal has always been spending the rest of his life with you"
Lamine lets a beat of silence pass, the words sinking in
"he was really hurt by your words you know" he says
"I know" you say feeling your throat tighten "I didn't mean to say those things, I trust him with my whole being, I'm just scared"
"scared of what?" Lamine probes
"scared he'll see how boring I am, not up to pace with all the girls that throw themselves at him and leave me" you say with a sniff
"I'd never leave you" Ale says
you whip your head around to find him standing at the door
"amor" Ale breathes out "you are my everything, these girls mean nothing when I have a woman waiting for me at hime"
"but
"but nothing" Ale stops you "stop all of this self-doubt, I love you and no one else"
"I love you too" you say to him "I'm sorry"
"its alright, I just needed a breather to see it from your point of view but I chose a movie night and cuddles over bottle girls and alcohol any day" Ale smiles wiping your tears away with his thumbs
"awe mom and dad are back together" Lamine's voice drifts through the phones speaker
"ew dude why didn't you hang up" Ale says
"you put me in this drama, I'm just making sure I don't become a child of divorce" he says
"okay bye Lamine" you say hanging up
Ale laughs, placing a kiss on your forehead then lips
Summary : One day is love, the next is hate – just the long dance of a toxic situationship. Will they put their egos and pride to the side and pursue real love?
Warnings (+18) : toxicity, angst, and a pinch SMUT - WK : 8.7k
A/N : After a huge writer block, I've finally managed to finish it. Idk if I'm proud of the final result but I hope you enjoy it anyway. I didn't detail everything bc I'm training to write shorter stories. 8K is not short lol but you get it.
Writing takes a lot of time, if you enjoyed, please reblog, comment and interact. Don't be shy. That's why the anon button exists. English is not my first language.
Goosebumps, the warmth at the pit of her stomach, his plump lips, his fresh and subtle scent. Once again, Anitta finds herself in his bed, kissing him like she will never see him again. Her hands roaming all over his muscular shoulders and back. From time to time, they slip to pull on his coils.
As she is busy sharing passionate kisses with the young man that often pushes her out of her character, her inner mind rolls her eyes. Back at it again. After all that chest and all these promises of putting him to the side for good in vain. Back to square one. Exactly where she has started. Even their swollen lips could not stop them. He missed her as much as she did.
"I missed you so much, bebe." These words. The ones that often melted her heart and set fire to her body. She cannot respond, not when his lips work on the softest spot of her neck.
Their hands express what their mouths cannot: a secret addiction. She wants to keep him there, right above her forever. Anitta throws her head back when his hands go underneath her shirt to play with her now hard nipples.
He is smiling, fully aware of what he is doing. Although she loves hearing him whispering sweet words into her ears, she always has a hard time believing them. Anitta silences her inner voices to refocus on the beautiful brown-skinned man before her. Each time their lips brush, she closes her eyes, savouring his attention, touches, and lips.
"Ale." His nickname never sounded that good, just like a breeze in the middle of a hot summer night.
Anitta turns her head, leaving her neck at his complete mercy. She will probably have marks on her breast and neck, but nothing matters at the moment. Nothing, but the feel of his skin on hers. Soft moans leave her mouth at the feeling of his tongue enveloping her nipples. Although his head is hidden by her shirt, she can still feel the smirk on his face. Everything feels good. Almost too good to be true.
His phone lights up, catching Anitta’s attention. At first, she ignores, preferring to focus on the sensations provided by Ale’s mouth. The second time, the voice inside her head cringes. Her intuition comes back to life as her eyes lie on the phone screen next to her.
”Te echo de menos, cariño.” - I miss you, darling.
”No puedo parar de pensar en ti 💕.” - I cannot stop thinking about you.
”Mi boca también te echa de menos 😏🫦” - My mouth misses you too.
The last text stays on her mind. The images of him getting pleasure somewhere else are too difficult to bear. Back to where they left off two weeks ago. Anitta pushes Alejandro off her body and rearranges her bra and tee-shirt.
”Qué…Qué pasa, amor?” - What? What’s going on, love?” Silence rules the room as he watches Anita put her cargo jeans back on.
”Amor, I’m talking to you.”
”I don’t care, Alejandro.” The young man touches his naked chest, clearly offended to hear his full name coming out of her mouth. He stares in complete delusion. The scene is comparable to a bad telenovela script.
”It’s always the same with you. I’m done.” Anitta finally spits while collecting her purse on the side table.
”What have I done? If you’re not talking to me, how am I supposed to know?”
”You’re still talking to her. I can’t believe how much you don’t give a fuck about me, about us.”
Alejandro grabs his phone, apparently unaware of the latest messages. Gradually, his face shifts. The eyebrows come back to normal.
”It’s nothing, bebe. I haven’t seen her for weeks. Mi corazón es tuyo, sabes eso.” - My heart is yours, and you know it.
”Tonteria.” - Bullshit.
Alejandro rises from the bed. He is intimidated. His body language betrays him, no matter how hard he tries to display confidence. In a desperate attempt, his fingers brush her forearm. Her reaction is immediate. She frowns and removes her arm as far as she can.
”Don’t touch me… Don’t.” The young woman secures the silk scarf on her head while her eyes silently express her rage in the heavy silence of the room. She inhales and exhales. He will not see another breakdown, not again. No one deserves that type of power.
”Nothing is going on between us. Te lo juro, mi princesa.” - I swear, my princess. The nickname that usually puts a smile on her face irks her soul. It gets under her skin and burns. Her heart sinks as she understands that he certainly has multiple princesas.
Some could ask, what did she expect from a guy four years younger than her? Suddenly, what is supposed to be a meaningless weight on their fragile relationship resurfaces as a problem. Anitta pulls on the extremity of the silk, her eyes glued on her face in the mirror. He is standing right behind, hoping to see her soul through her eyes like he did so many times before.
The only thing he can spot is a crack, a new crack in the walls they are trying to build. Anitta rearranges two unruly braids and pulls out her lip liner. His stare switches. The eyebrows are arching again.
”Where are you going?”
”On my way to give some to a man who deserves it.” She provocatively responds, full of sass. At this point, they both should know better, but she cannot help it. The crack will only be fixed or at least looked at when his ego is damaged. Usual routine.
”You’re not going anywhere.” His tone is firmer. The plan is working. She is getting a reaction. The tension is heavier. The type of heaviness that could break a mirror in two pieces. In the same way, they are always finding a way to break their bond.
Anitta giggles, the type of laugh that initiates a not-so-secret battle. ”Please, Alejandro, don’t make me laugh. You cannot give me orders.”
”You’re right. I can’t, but I can lock the door.” He is challenging her, and she is willing to play the game. Her round eyes lay on his face through the mirror, and she tilts her head.
”I dare you, Alejandro. Voy a comprender que soy loca.” - You’re going to understand that I’m crazy.
”Soy loco también. No te preocupes, bebe.” - I’m crazy too, don’t worry, babe.
Anitta knows… Deep inside of her, she knows that he can go toe-to-toe with her. They have already been there and done it. Intense arguments, magical moments, authentic love, great sex, and we start again. Back to square one. Another hole on the wall. As Anitta prepares to move her plump lips, Alejandro exits the room.
The apartment is quiet again until she hears the sound of jangling keys. He is really hiding his keys to trap her inside. Anitta throws her lip gloss somewhere on the floor and follows him. Her anger boiling inside like milk in a pot. Alejandro sits on the sofa, his keys hidden somewhere in the room as he glances at her.
”Let me go!”
”Not if you’re going to see another man.”
”How dare you be jealous when you're still talking to that b—” She stops mid-sentence.
”Whispering in my ear, telling me you love me, only to find out that you're lying again. Fuck you!"
”How can you be jealous when you’ve already made it clear that you’ll never be mine?”
”I said that to hurt your feelings because you keep hurting mine. Look at you! Two weeks. That’s all it took for you to let her suck your dick. Fuck you, Alejandro! I'm done with you. Go to hell.”
Alejandro barely moves. He is waiting. Waiting for her next move as if he calls it a bluff. Anitta approaches him with fire in the brown of her pupils. If he stares at her long enough, a portion of his skin will certainly burn. Although he has been a victim of her anger more than once, it is still impressive nonetheless.
”I’m not going to repeat it again. Let me leave.” Her voice is almost a whisper. She is warning him.
He is hesitating. A part of him wants to convince her to stay. The other knows that she is way too angry and stubborn to even listen to him. After clearing his throat, he gets up and hands her the keys. The fire in her eyes silently burning his soul as she snatches the metal pieces from his hand. Alejandro looks at her storming back to the room. He knows he should focus on better things, but his eyes cannot ignore the way her jeans perfectly embrace her hips. That fucking phone! He should have been smarter and hidden it somewhere.
Anitta comes back into the living room, her determinate walk leading her straight to the apartment entry.
”Bebe, escúchame. It’s not what you think…” - Babe, listen to me.
”Oh, and what is it? Her mouth accidentally ended up on your dick?” Alejandro stares down, his eyes avoiding the flames in her gaze. The head was great, but nothing is better than holding Anitta in his arms, hearing her voice, laughing at her jokes, kissing her, and making love to her like they were dying tomorrow. He should have been smarter.
”Fuck you! I dare you to speak when I'm going to have my fun too.” She spits, her finger fighting the urge to push his forehead. Alejandro takes a deep breath to defend his case, but the slam of the door leaves him no choice. He messed up again. Now, he has to work even harder than last time.
****
Anitta walks in the streets of Barcelona. Summer is coming. Nights are warmer. The light breeze on her face brings her comfort. The type of comfort Alejandro rarely offers. In fact, he has been the reason for her torment more times than she can count. Somehow, life or her delusion always finds new ways to reunite them.
Their story started one year ago in a club. Anitta used to work as a bottle girl in one of Barcelona’s most famous clubs to pay for her school and rent. Life abroad has always been a dream of hers, but it comes with a cost. Finances had never truly been a problem for her until her father passed away three years ago. Wealthy is not the word to qualify her family situation. Upper middle class would be more appropriate.
Before his death, her father promised to cover her expenses abroad. Plans changed after. With two other kids to take care of, her mother could not fulfil that promise. Still, Anitta refused to give up on her need for escapism. Since she was a teen, she continually dreamed of exploring the world. The size of her small town suffocated her as years passed by. Her father’s passing was just another sign. She needs to leave. Whatever happens in the future, she will figure it out.
The adventure started with a job as a waitress in a trendy restaurant. Everything went perfectly well and normally until she met a promoter.
Anitta still remembers how his eyes lingered on her for a long period of time. Worries grew within her, but she tried to remain professional. By the end of the night, the man offered her a new job. ”You’re too pretty to work here, come on.” He whispers, leaving Anita wary about his intentions. Never trust strangers, her mother’s voice resounded in her head. Scams, prostitution, trafficking—every dark idea flourished in her head. It could be anything.
“Think about it, querida. Take my card and come visit us at the club so you can see what we’re about.” The young woman nods and puts the card in her pocket. Three weeks later, after multiple hesitations, she finally decides to give it a try. This is where it all began.
****
The club was busier than usual. The bottle orders kept coming in, leaving the group of six women booked and busy. A busy night means great tips, especially when celebrities or footballers are in the picture. For reasons she was very well aware of, women flocked to the place. Probably hoping to see or get a shot with their favourite footballer. The promise of an easier life: unlimited money, fame for some, trips, and fashion. Whatever these men could offer.
Men followed. The long line of young women attracted them like flies around a plate of juicy fruits. The final result: a packed club and a very lucrative night. Flirting or engaging with an athlete seems tempting, especially for a student like her. Yet, she prefers to stay away from them. They are not better than the average man, just richer.
With a bright smile on her face, the bottle in her hand, and a few dance moves, she walks to their table. The table of all desire: envy from other men and lust or aspirations for some women. The ballers welcome the girls with equal smiles on their faces. As Anitta kept dancing and cheering, she felt an insistent stare.
Alejandro never stopped looking at her. Each move, each smile, each eye contact, he was on it. Beautiful man, Anitta thought. Still, she knows better than to deal with athletes. They only represented additional tips for her. No more, no less.
Before she can move away from their table, their skin touches. His fingers gently wrapped around her wrist like a ribbon wrapping around a Christmas gift.
”Hola.” He greets her with a charming smile and perfect white teeth. God, such a beautiful smile. Anitta keeps her composure and greets him back, ignoring the wink from one of her colleagues.
”Soy Alejandro y solo quería decirte que eres muy hermosa. Me encantan tus ojos.” - I’m Alejandro, and I wanted to tell you that you’re beautiful. I love your eyes.
He notices the accent and asks, ”English?” She nods.
”What’s your name?”
”Anitta.”
”Beautiful, just like you.” His Spanish accent wrapping around syllables makes her heart swell. He is charming, she must admit.
”So Anitta, can I get your phone number or something?” She puffs with a head shake.
”For what?”
”Come on, you know why, princesa.” Usually, she finds these generic pet names corny. Yet for some reason, coming out from his mouth, it feels right. So good, it sends shivers down her spine. He is an athlete. No, no, no. I do not need these types of problems in my life.
“Hum. I don’t know. We’re not really allowed to date clients.” She lies, hoping to sound credible. Alejandro laughs out.
”No problem, I’ll just stop being a client then.” He replies with full confidence and a smirk that says a lot about his intentions, more than words could. His brown eyes check her up and down, blatantly admiring every single detail of her face. At the moment, she is grateful for her brown skin. If not, she would have been blushing all along.
”Por favor, Anitta. I really want to get to know you.” The grip on his wrist gently tightened around her wrist as if he never wanted to let her go. Come on, girl. You deserve a little bit of fun too.
”Give me your phone number, and I’ll call you.” She surrenders.
”No. Women love to say that and never call back. You give me your phone number.” Anitta rolls her eyes but writes down her number on his phone. The beginning of a roller coaster. It started with text messages, then dates. What was supposed to be casual quickly took a different turn. Chemistry has begun to settle in, resulting in her walls falling down. Alejandro did more than undressing her body. He unveiled her mind, piece by piece.
What was supposed to be casual turned into something realer: deep conversations, confessions, vulnerability, and a form of intimacy no one could understand except them. Each time Anitta feels down, she remembers. All those nights, her body lying right next to his. Eyes to eyes, hands in hands as they let the music in the background speak for them. The lyrics and melodies express what they both refused to admit. On some occasions, she remembers them laughing like teenagers as they tried to replicate the latest trendy dance. Her soul craves those moments. Unfortunately, they are often overshadowed by his questionable behaviour.
*****
Droplets of water decorate her brown skin as she walks out of the bathroom. The energy she once had, gone. Lotion will have to wait another day. Everything feels heavy. Nothing beats the feeling in her chest. The slight heartbreak. That unique ache that only time could heal. Anitta sits on her bed, letting the heaviness of her day fall down with her. She sighs and grabs her phone.
8 calls. 12 messages.
Anitta rolls her eyes. He surprisingly did not beat his record this time. Despite the pain, she goes in her contact list and presses the block button. As long as he cannot act properly, she will move accordingly. He did not deserve her time and attention and even less her body.
Instagram. Same manoeuvre. Blocked. Anitta breathes out before visiting her DMs. Two could have fun. Blue checks often visited her page. Most of them writing the same generic message. They probably send a dozen girls. Nothing new. Anitta stays stoic in front of the multiple messages. Yet, a specific one catches her attention. Her eyes had been on this one for a moment. They are teammates, girl. Think about it. No, fuck it.
Anitta taps a reply before clicking on the blue button. Send. At the moment, Alejandro’s feelings do not matter. The same way hers did not when he allowed that woman to perform oral sex on him. There is no coming back, no matter what happens after. The young woman keeps reading messages and DMs, carefully choosing who deserves a response or not. If Alejandro wants to have fun, she will too. She is not desperate enough to stay inside because of him. Summer is coming, and she will be outside. Time to remind fellas who she truly is.
The tight and cropped shirt perfectly emphasises her chest as the shorts display her legs and hips. The beads on her waist embrace the curves of her body. The pyjamas leave little to the imagination. Anitta does not mind. This is exactly what she wants. Alejandro is blocked, but Anita knows that one of his teammates is going to transfer the picture. It never fails. Men are so predictable, especially when they are younger. If not, Alejandro will probably use his burner account to keep an eye on her. Either way, he needs to know that she can play as much as him.
Posted. The man is going to spiral, and she is going to live her best life. No more excuses. No more empathy, nothing.
Ten minutes. The time it took to confirm her theory. There he is, in her view list with his burner account. He had sent a message too, but Anitta left him on read. Fuck you.
****
Busy Saturday as per usual. Anitta keeps walking through small crowds, bringing various bottles of champagne. Brut, rosé, small, big, orange, silver, pink, whatever bottle, she makes sure to transport it to the table with a bright smile on her face and seductive movements. Big nights like these are synonymous with big tips, so she needs to be on her best behaviour. Although Alejandro’s generosity helped her more times than she could count, Anitta always preferred relying on herself.
Alexa, the brunette with big doe-brown eyes and long faux mink lashes, comes to her with a wink to display her playful side.
”There’s someone waiting for you in the private salon.” Anitta raises an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued as she wonders who could be waiting for her. Most of the time, clients wanted women like Alexa or Maria to serve them: a blonde or a brunette. Whenever clients call her, it is either because they sincerely find her beautiful or want some exoticism, as one of them once had the audacity to explain.
With a shrug and full confidence, Anitta walks to the salon. Behind the door, Alejandro is sitting on the couch with his legs wide spread. She expected anyone but him. Apparently, blocking him from every platform gave way to a new form of audacity.
”Alejandro! What the fuck are you doing at my job? Leave immediately!”
”You blocked me. What else am I supposed to do?”
”Whatever, I don’t care. You’re not going to fuck up my money.” She says, placing her fist on her hips. Alejandro’s eyes lingered on the curves of her body longer than intended. He shakes his head, a poor attempt to push their heated moments to the back of his mind.
”Come on, bebe. You know I can give you three times more than whatever you make here.”
”Yeah, that’s apparently the best you can do for me.” Alejandro holds his chest.
”That’s offensive, princesa.”
”I’m not your princesa, Alejandro.”
”Can we talk? Seriously, talk like adults.”
”Adults, really? You’re the one behaving like a horny teen. Talk about what? How are you going to fuck other girls behind my back? How you’ve always been avoiding a real conversation? Or how are you going to disappoint me next time? I have nothing to say to you. I want you to leave.”
Alejandro grabs her wrist, forcing their eyes to meet. Just like the first time their skin touched, his fingers perfectly enveloped her wrist. Anitta ignored that one single touch could trigger waves of mixed emotions.
”Bebe. I’m serious. Por favor. I’m truly sorry. Listen to me, and I promise I’ll leave after.” She lets out a heavy sigh as her brain envisions the lies coming out of his mouth.
”No more games. I’m going to fully focus on us. That other girl, she doesn’t matter to me. She cannot make me feel the way you do, bebe.”
”Oh, and how am I making you feel?” Her stare intensifies, trying to read the depth of his soul. Each blink of the eye recreates the rhythm of her heartbeat. Alejandro boldly grabs her waist, forcing her body to rest against his.
”You make me feel at home wherever we are. I feel safe with you. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, princesa.” Rumours are true. Dominicanos know how to play the game. Still, Anitta knows better than to fall for poetic promises and words. Although the feel of his skin against hers sends shivers through her spine, she chooses to think with her brain. Pussy and heart to the side.
She frees herself from his grip. ”Maybe in your bedroom with Sandra sucking your dick. That’s where you’d rather be. Déjate de tonterías.” - Cut the bullshit.
”I’m sorry, bebe. I truly am.” Anitta remains calm while her heart sinks. There we go again.
”I’ve already heard that before, Alejandro. You're just sorry you got caught. Anyway, I’m going back to work.” This time, she leaves, cutting the conversation short. The tiredness and exhaustion are weighing on her shoulders all over again. If only he stayed away… Now, she has to fight to get him out of her system.
****
The door closes, and so do Alejandro’s eyes to contain the feeling of guilt eating him from the inside. Now, all of a sudden, ten minutes with Alexa sounded like hours. Long minutes that could never compete with Anitta’s presence. The way she makes him nervous. The way she challenges him. The way she makes his heart race faster. The way she sends shivers through his spine and warms his entire soul. Nothing could compete or compare, not even a sloppy blowjob.
”¿Qué voy a hacer ahora?” - What am I going to do now? He paces in the empty room, his hands nervously rubbing his face. Alejandro takes a deep breath and makes a decision. He will wait for her shift to end for an honest conversation. No more games. This is what he thought until he exited the private salon.
Right in front of his eyes. Anitta flirting with a brunette that perfectly fits the cliche of a hot Spaniard: dark brown hair, full beard, big round eyes, and long lashes and obviously older than her. His heart sinks when he sees how she laughs with him, how she flutters her eyelashes and nervously plays with the hem of her dress.
The heavy crowd around him dissipates as his heart breaks down in pieces. With his eyes glued on the pair, his jaw and fists clench simultaneously. In an instant, gone was his desire for an open conversation. Dos pueden jugar (two can play the game)…
*****
Three days. Seventy-two hours since Alejandro visited her workplace to beg for forgiveness. Ever since, radio silence. Although Anitta wishes to be careless, her heart still longs for him. A part of her wanted him to go harder, to show her how sorry he truly is. Yet, reality is what it is. He does not seem to care that much.
The silk scarf caresses her scalp as she taps a message to him. The teammate. Conversations had been flowing between them, but they both know what they are in for. The longer time passed by, the heavier the flirting and sexual innuendos. Anitta bites her lower lip as she imagines herself pulling on his locs while he relentlessly rolls his hips inside of her.
The vivid fantasy is interrupted by the pictures on her feed. The football gossip pages are reposting the same images all over again. Tears gradually reach her eyes as the videos and images of Alejandro with a group of women play on her phone. Alejandro enjoying the grind of a brunette that seems older than him and her. He grins as if he just won a major trophy. Young, wild, and free on a yacht while she is at home, in her bed, thinking about him.
He never loved you. These words hurt, but they are a true reflection of her reality. Even if he does, it is not enough for him to commit. The salty tears burn her cheeks, and she hates herself for it.
”When am I going to see you, chéri?” She presses the blue button and throws her phone at the opposite side of her pillow. No matter how strong she tries to appear, it hurts. Hurts to know that she was stupid enough to almost fall for his words two weeks ago. Hurts to understand that she will never be enough for him. Hurts even harder to realise that he did not value her the way she did. Oh, Alejandro, you are going to regret that…
****
The following week…
Alejandro almost tripped on the floor at the scene before him. In the players parking lot, where no one could see, he saw everything. Something he wished to never see. Anitta, the one he has been having meltdowns over, jumping into his teammate Urus. His brain will remember forever how the name Koundé looked on her back. How dare she? At that precise moment, Alejandro felt like someone was stabbing his heart multiple times. Jules had no idea of his existence, but she did. Anitta knew that they were teammates, yet she decided to pursue him anyway.
Everything makes sense now. The calls she declined, the texts she ignored, the gifts she never thanked him for, and just her barely acknowledging his existence. She is too busy messing around with Jules. That French cabrón with his singular outfits and intelligence. Suddenly, his blood starts to boil so does the urge to smack his teammate in the face. As if the universe gives him a second chance, Jules exits the car and goes back to the locker room. Alejandro ignores his brother's rants and walks towards the vehicle.
There she is. Her beautiful face framed by goddess braids and flawless makeup. He aggressively knocks on the window, making her jump and drop her phone in the process. A mini-skirt…all for Jules. When their eyes meet, they both notice the fire burning behind their pupils. Each one furious at the other for reasons that varied but provoked similar pain and frustration. Anitta rolls the window down with an exaggerated eye roll.
”What do you want?”
”I want you to stop whatever you have going on with my teammate. You’re out of line.” He says with fake calmness. Anitta feels his annoyance and decides to play with it.
”That, I’m afraid, I can’t do. You're getting your dick sucked, and I'm trying to get my pussy eaten. Where’s the problem?” Alejandro closes his eyes in an attempt to calm his growing anger and jealousy. The last thing he needed was imagining Jules's face between her legs.
"Stop playing with me. It's not ending well.” He warns with clenched fists.
"I agree. It's not ending well for you. Have I ever told you that I like locs?" She winks, clearly enjoying seeing him in pain.
”Fuck him as much as you want, but that heart and mind are still mine.” He hits back with a vicious smirk plastered on his face.
Touché. Anitta lightly squirms in her chair to calm the screams coming from her heart. Ale, Ale, Ale, fight for us, fight for me. Hold me. Soothe my pain. Love me loud and clear. Reality. Reality first always.
”It doesn’t matter. I’m not yours. You made that clear when you let Sandra suck your dick. Made it even clearer with your escorts on the yacht. I hope it was worth every single second. In the meantime, kiss my ass. I’ll do whatever I want, like the single woman I am.” She spits before rolling the window back up. Her words resonating in his mind like a catchy chorus of a trendy song. Reality slaps him.
Her observing eyes see veins and muscles that never showed up before. He is not mad. He is furious. His pupils and nostrils widen each time his palm hits the window. Anitta closes her eyes, ignoring how his voice cracks when he begs her. Princesa. You’re killing me now. Princesa. You don’t belong with him. Bebe. I know you can hear my soul crying… Don’t do that to me. Te amo.
A knot forms in her throat. He has no right to say those words now. She stares at him, and his eyes are glistening just like hers. Love is not supposed to be that hard or painful. Images of him on that watch resurfaced, and she switched again. The little vulnerability he spotted is now hidden by curtains of anger.
”Go home, Alejandro.”
”How can you blame it on me? You were flirting with a man at your job the day I came to ask for a serious conversation.” The message transcends the glass separating them.
”Yeah, and instead of fighting for me, what did you do?” She shouts, leaving them both staring at one another, waiting to see who will fold first. Alejandro stays silent, realising that he could have acted differently. He can feel the pain in her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to hide behind anger.
”What did you fucking do? Organise a yacht party to fuck more girls. You’re really as immature as I thought you’d be the first day we met. Go to hell.” Each syllable feels like a cut onto his skin. It pains him. The rage in her tone and eyes sends him spiralling deeper. Alejandro is preparing to respond back, but the phone vibrating in his pocket stops him. His mother. He promised to visit her after the game, and he is late.
”See, I was right. Who’s calling? Sandra? That’s it, go get your dick wet. It’s the only thing you can do anyway.”
”Actually, that’s my mom.” He says with a mocking grin, placing the phone against the glass for her to see. Anitta looks down, avoiding his eyes as embarrassment heats her face. ”Anyway, I have somewhere to be.” He leaves, not giving her any time to respond.
Before starting the engine, he stares at the Urus one more time. His stomach flipping inside at the thought of Jules and her being intimate. If it were not for his mother, he would have done everything in his power to force her out of Jules’ vehicle. Reluctantly he drives away, driving as far away as he can. It is evident that no distance in the world could erase the fresh pain in his chest.
****
That night, Alejandro turns in his bed restlessly. Each minute, his heart aches at the thought of Anitta and Jules. What are they up to? Is she back to her place? Are they spending the night together? So many questions cloud his mind. The ache is unbearable. Alejandro finally decides to put an end to that torture. He grabs his phone and calls her.
Por favor, responde, princesa. No me hagas eso - Don’t do that to me.
Hearing her voicemail sends him spiralling again. There are two options possible. One she is deeply asleep and the second… He'd rather not think about it. Alejandro wants to scratch his skin until it relieves his slow agony. No way. He will not give up. He picks the phone up again and keeps calling and calling.
After more than ten attempts, he finally hears her sleepy voice. ”Alejandro, ¿Qué carajo? Why are you blowing up my phone?” - What the hell?
”Just wanted to check if you’re good.”
”You’re not even a good liar. Admit it, you just wanted to know if I’m still with Jules.”
He can hear the half smirk on her face. ”Can you blame me?”
“Alejandro… Really? I replied because I thought something happened to you.”
”So you still care about me?” He grins through the phone.
”Good night, Alejandro.” He cannot let her go. Earlier, he had no choice, but this time he had to do something. Panic gets the best of him, forcing him to pick the easiest route: a blatant lie to lure her in.
“Wait… I don’t feel good. My head hurts, and I feel dizzy.”
”I’m not a doctor.” She dryly responds, forcing him to take the lie to another level.
”Please. I’ll call one when you get there, but I don’t want to be alone. Estoy nervioso.” - I’m nervous.
”Isn’t your brother there?”
”No, he’s out. I’ll send an Uber your way, bebe.” Just like that, he found a way to have a face-to-face conversation with her. Alejandro takes a deep breath. No matter what happens, he needs to know the truth. After all, Jules’ shadow cannot hover over their relationship forever.
****
Forty-five minutes. Yes, Alejandro counted each one. Every minute passing by represented a step closer to their reunion. Although he could barely contain his excitement, fears lingered at the back of his mind. What’s next if what he dreads happened? How will he react? Can he overlook that detail? One question is replaced by a new one, and it stays that way until he hears the doorbell.
As if his life depended on it, he runs to open the door. There she stands with a silk scarf on her head and a grey sportswear set. Under other circumstances, the outfit would have been comical. Nothing matches. Anitta probably threw whatever she found near her bed.
Her big brown eyes quickly glance at his naked torso and purple basketball shorts before focusing on his face. ”Ale… Is everything alright? Should I call the doctor?” The genuine worry in her tone makes his heart jump. Maybe he still has a chance.
”No, now that you’re here with me I feel better.” He confesses, passing a hand on his durag.
”Did you fucking lie to see me?”
”I had to. The idea of you with him was unbearable.”
”Well, now you know how I feel every time you let me down.” The sharpness in her tone reminded him how badly he hurt her.
”It’s not the same. Jules is my teammate. How would you feel if I dated your friend?” He follows her as she throws her small bag on the kitchen counter.
”You’re colleagues, not friends.”
”That’s not the topic. What happened between you?”
”Nothing.” The grin on her face says something else.
"You're lying."
”Why would I tell you? And even if I do, what are you going to do about it, Ale?” A clear provocation to make his heart clench.
"Remind you that you’re mine." Anitta giggles.
"Belongs to your teammate. I needed a grown man to handle her for a moment since you were too busy with other girls.“
The second part of her response flies over his head. Only the first words stay on his mind as he pushes the images back to the back of his head. Their age difference had never been a real problem, but Anitta knew that an older man near her could trigger his insecurities. She has decided to play dirty tonight, and nothing could stop her.
Alejandro's breath slows down as he approaches her, trapping her between the coldness of his kitchen counter and the warmth of his body. He breathes out, trying his best to calm his nerves. His old flings messing around with his teammates is nothing new. Very common stories, but Anitta is no fling. He is furious because she truly matters to him.
”So you slept with Jules?” He finally collects his courage to ask the famous question. The one that could break or make them. His heartbeat is doing loops as he waits for the sentence. Anitta grins in response, observing attentively as his heart drops through the veil of his eyes.
”My teammate, my fucking teammate.” He rubs his face to hide his frustration. May somebody come and put an end to this nightmare. May someone wake him up from his sleep. It cannot be his reality. It is too painful.
”And what so about it? You’ve been playing in my face for way too long. How dare you throw a tantrum when you were getting head weeks ago? I was in my room crying my eyes out. What were you doing in the meantime? Flirting, kissing, and getting some from women on a yacht. I can’t even trust you, Ale. There’s no point. Last time, I said that to hurt your feelings. This time I’m serious. I’m never going to be your girl. Never. I’d eat glass before I allow a man like you to break my heart again.”
”Is that why you slept with him? To get back at me? It’s fucking childish.”
”Says the man who gets his dick wet every time we’re fighting. You have no right to say shit to me. Fuck you.” She is now shouting at full force, the vein on her forehead saying hello as she lets her rage explode. The man in a durag can only make grimaces, rub his face, and look behind her shoulder. How are they coming back from it?
”Since you insist, bebe, Jules and I had sex in his Urus. It was amazing. I never came that hard in my life.” Another punch in the guts.” She confesses, her eyes looking straight into his. The pupils of his eyes darken as he grips the kitchen counter.
”Tell me you’re lying. Please.” He pleads. ”Please, bebe.”
”I’m not. Do you want the detailed version?” She provokes, ignoring the pain she had already caused. Today he is getting what he deserves—no pity, no holding back.
”Don’t say anything. I won’t hear it.” Porcelain pieces shatter on the floor, making her jump. The sound resonates in the apartment. Still, not louder than Alejandro’s curses flying in the air. Anitta shakes her head, disapproving of his behaviour like a disappointed mother would.
”Not so funny, huh? Being lied to, taken for granted, and seeing your person have all the fun in the world. See how it hurts? Do you feel it now?” She screams again, forcing him to look at her. Now they were both shouting and out of breath.
”Joder, ¿qué problema tienes?” - Fuck. What’s your problem?
”Tú eres mi problema. I’m calling Jules, anyway.” - You’re my problem.
Alejandro snatches the phone from her palms and hides it inside of his pocket. The young woman stays still, baffled at his brand-new audacity fuelled by fury.
”Ven a buscarlo” - Come get it.
”Give me my phone back immediately.”
”Or what, bebe? You’re going to fuck Pedri next?” Ouch. None of them cared about hurting the other. They just let their wrath take the lead. Anitta slams his chest. One slap turns into two, then three before she loses count. Alejandro smiles and grabs both of her hands to restrain her. Their bodies touching the cold marble of the counter. A complete contrast compared to the steamy atmosphere in the room.
She yells, “Fuck you! That’s low even from you. Give me my phone back, you dog!” with eyes burning with rage.
”Why would you fucking do that to me?”
”Why not? You broke my heart so many times. Why the fuck should I spare you? For once, I wanted you to feel what I’m feeling every single time you go out of your way to betray me, betray us, making me feel like I’m not good enough.”
By the end of the sentence, her voice breaks down as her face distorts. One tear rolls down before she loses count and sobs, trapped between his body and the kitchen counter. The news of sleeping with Jules becomes secondary in that moment. He caused it. He is responsible for the pain in her heart. The reason why she went out of her way to hurt him. The reason for that betrayal. His heart sinks even further.
“I’ll never hurt you the way you did.” He murmurs as his thumbs try to dry the tears rolling down her face.
”Yes, you did, Ale. Each time my heart sank inside of my chest. Tears burnt my skin and my throat because I felt like I’ll never be enough for you, and it killed me.”
Alejandro wraps his arms around her, pushing her face in the crook of his neck. The slow caresses on her back calmed her down. Even in the middle of the storm he provoked, she still finds comfort in his arms.
”That’s not… It’s not true, bebe. I’ve never wanted you to feel that way. You mean so much to me. More than you can ever imagine.” Anitta inhales as silence settles between them. She needs a moment to recover from everything that just happened. Hard to do so when the man she loves keeps planting kisses on her head and face. Her heart swells at the delicacy of his lips. Ale. The Ale she fell in love with. That side of him proves that sometimes love might be worth fighting for.
Her hands gently make their way to his naked abs. Their stares connected at the same time as time froze in the apartment. His breath coordinates with her own as he rests his nose against hers.
”Is that true? Did he make you come…?”
”Ale, please. You don’t want to hurt yourself like that.”
”I just want to know. I need to know.” Anitta looks away, a pinch of sadness glowing in her eyes.
”Yes, but it wasn’t as intense as… It feels better when you…” He sighs out of relief.
”Bebe.” He whispers as his hands gently grab her face. ”Perdóname. If I could go back in time, I would.”
”Please, don’t say anything. Kiss me.” That is it. That is all it takes for their lips to collide again. The start of a passionate dance that time cannot damage. He can feel the tears that fell down earlier wetting his skin, but he does not stop. None of them do. They simply allow their passion and bodies to be as one. Her hands roam all over his naked torso and back. The tips of her fingers memorise every muscle as their mouths keep moving in rhythm.
The hands that previously rested on her face are now exploring beneath her grey hoodie. Anitta throws her head back with a moan when he gently squeezes her breast the way she likes. His warm mouth playing with that spot on her neck. He massages, gropes, and softly pinches her nipples in a way that makes her toes curl.
If someone asks, Anitta is unable to tell how all of her clothes ended up on the floor that fast. The only thing that is on her mind is the pleasure he is giving her with his fingers and mouth as she grips the cold marble for dear life. Her breast rises faster each time he licks and sucks between her legs. She ignores how long she has left before her trembling thighs give way to his slow and pleasing torture.
”Ale. Por favor…” He does not stop. No, he goes harder, enjoying the way she chants his name. For his ego, he had to make it memorable, showing her that she belongs with him. Their bond is authentic and cannot be replicated with anybody else. He keeps eating, lapping at her juices as if they could quench his thirst. Ale, Ale, Ale, she repeats his name until she reaches that stage of pure bliss. The second orgasm of the night for her, but he did not need to know that.
She barely has time to recover that he is deliciously stretching her walls. In response to his body connecting with hers, she holds onto his shoulders, letting her nails dig deeper into his skin as his hips mercilessly slam into her.
"Damn. Ale. Right there.” She whimpers against his ear.
”Joder, bebe. I won’t last. You’re so wet.”
”And it’s all for you, bebe. It’s you, always been. No one else.” He stares at her before passionately attacking her lips. Both of them enjoy their mouths moving in unison. Honesty or reassurance—at that particular moment, it did not matter. All he cares about is her pleasure. He wants to please her so hard she forgets that she even interacted with Jules in the first place.
Anitta pulls away, begging him to go harder. He obliges, his strokes getting deeper and harder, replicating the movement that often sends her over the edge. Their foreheads resting against one another as their eyes express more than their words or bodies ever could.
”Fuck, Ale. You’re so deep.”
He cannot tell if it is the euphoria, the chase of endorphins, or whatever. What he knows is that she is the only one that drives him that crazy, the only one to make his heart swell, the only one to send his mind to cloud nine, and the only one he feels like hugging and kissing after. Just Anitta, no one else. Alejandro is chasing more than a simple orgasm. He wants the full experience: body, mind, and heart all aligned to take him on cloud nine.
”Ale, please.” She pleads as his fingers find her sensitive spot. The rhythm of his hips is unforgivable, just like the way his lips capture hers. Both of them are pushing using their hands to satiate the heavy consequences of their separation, the desire to be skin to skin.
”Eres mi todo.” - You’re my everything. The right words coming from that one mouth trigger her third orgasm of the night. This one surpasses anything she has experienced before. It is raw, intense, and authentic. The type of experience words cannot describe. He follows right after, taking her own high to another level. Sweaty skin against sweaty skin, both panting, they kiss again to seal that sweet memory.
*****
Anitta opens her eyes, the sunlight forcing her eyelid open. When she turns around to meet a peaceful and sleepy Alejandro, reality hits again. They are back to square one. Heavy fights, passionate sex, and another betrayal or disagreement to come. Is this really what love is about? Pain, uncertainty, fights, jealousy, and sharp words that cut deep—is it really love? Her heart races in her chest as she looks at Alejandro. She loves him. There is no denial, but she loves herself more.
With very careful and silent gestures, Anitta picks her clothes up from the floor. Layer after layer, she puts everything back on as if he never undressed her hours ago.
”Bebe. Where are you going?” His sleepy voice makes her jump.
”I’m… I have to leave.”
”Why?” The confusion on his face takes over the sleepy eyes.
”Because I’m not doing this again. We… We can’t be together.” Alejandro sits up in the bed, gently slapping himself to check if he is truly awake.
”Yes, we can. You love me, and I love you. What’s the problem?”
”Ale.” A whisper that sounds more like a beg than anything else.
”Look… I’m sorry. I was immature and stupid. You matter more than Sandra ever could or anyone else. Te amo, bebe.”
”I’m begging you, don’t say what you don’t mean.”
”I’m very serious. I want no one else but you. I’m in love with you. I tried to run away, but last night forced me to face reality for what it is.”
”Why are you so selfish? Why are you doing this to me? You know you’re not going to commit. You keep playing in my face, Ale.”
”No, this time I swear I want to be serious about it.”
”Ale, all night long the images of you being intimate with somebody else played in my head. Is he making love to them like he does with you? If you really loved me, why did you feel the need to hurt me every time we had a fight?
”You slept with Jules. You got your lick back. I could say the same about you. We’re equal now.”
”It’s not about being equal, Ale. It never has been. I have to choose myself. I'm sorry, Ale. If you really love me and care about me. Let me go peacefully. Don’t try to reach out, don’t come back, nothing.”
”Impossible. No puedo. Not after what happened last night.” He shakes his head in complete delusion.
”Ale. We cannot be together. It’s not going to work. You’re never going to be faithful to me. Friday, it’s Sandra. On Saturdays, it’s a villa full of escorts. I’m done. You’re too immature. When I said that the first time, I was mad. Still a part of me hoped that you would step up and show me how bad you want to change my mind and make it work. What did you do? You just confirmed my first thoughts.”
”Bebe.” A murmur that almost changed her mind. It hurts. Her heart sinks each time she sees his glowing eyes. Still, she needs to put herself first.
”Ale, if only you knew how long I waited for you to step up. I’m tired of waiting to be disappointed all over again. My heart cannot take another blow. I wish you the best in the future. You’re a very talented player. You deserve a great career. God bless you, Ale.” She concludes, not letting him any chance to reply as she grabs her purse before rushing outside.
The door shuts down. This time he knows. He could read it all over her face. The way her eyes avoided his, the tears falling down, and how she nervously played with her hands—she is not coming back. He lost her forever. All because he led with his ego and little head. It will take time, but there is a lesson to be learnt here. Tears slowly blur his view as he lies back down.
What the fuck has he done? He plays their story back dozens of times, each time reminding him how many times he let her down. Yesterday, he was convinced that his heart could not sink further. God, how wrong he was.
