“Lee, stop. I have to go” you protested as she placed another kiss to your neck. You were facing her hotel room door as she was trying to drag you backwards towards the centre of the room.
“Five more minutes, please” she mumbled, increasing the volume of kisses being pressed against you.
“Curfew was already an hour ago” you huffed.
“So, what’s five more minutes then?” She smirked.
“And how will you explain if Kei or G just walk in?” You teased, eventually turning around so you could be face to face with her.
“Well firstly, I would remind them we have a curfew” Leah laughed as you pushed her away from you.
“Or maybe I would finally tell them that you are my girlfriend and have been for-” she held the last syllable while she dramatically looked at her watch. “2 years, 11 months, 30 days, 23 hours and 27 minutes”
“I know” you sighed, understanding that she was hinting that you should stay.
It was your three year anniversary and she wanted nothing more than for you to just spend the night in her room, regardless of the rules of camp and her being the captain of the team. The captain, person who was meant to strive for excellence and be a good role model for the other players. But none of that mattered when it came to you.
“Fine, but just tonight, and if we get caught I am telling them you kidnapped me” you rolled your eyes as she cheered quietly.
“Come on then” she smiled, taking your hand and leading you back to the double bed that was placed in the centre of the room.
Kei
Come to my room
Now
G
I’m in bed
Kei
NOW
-
It was the next morning when you woke to Leah’s never ending alarm.
“Turn it off, Lee” you groaned loudly.
You hated that stupid alarm, it was the worst noise in the world. She reached over and smacked her phone, unsure if she’d turned the alarm off or broken her phone, but either way the alarm had stopped.
“Morning” she smiled tiredly and placed a kiss on your lips.
“Happy anniversary” you kissed her back.
“Happy anniversary, love” she mumbled between kisses.
“Have you anything romantic planned?” You teased.
“I was thinking of jetting us off to Paris?” She smirked.
“How convenient” you giggled. It was travel day, you were going over to play France in Paris in a few days time.
“I should probably go and start packing then, should I?” You kissed her cheek.
“I’ll be over in a few minutes to help” she smiled, full well knowing that was a lie.
“Oh my dear sweet Leah, you know I’ll be back in a few minutes to pack up this mess” you moved your hands around the room, reiterating the state it was in as you burst out laughing.
“Yeah, yeah. Well hurry back, bus is in an hour” she smirked as she stretched back into the bed.
You went back to your room, quickly sprinting the few doors down and started packing. It was on your way back to Leah’s room that you bumped into your sister and Tooney.
“Morning” you smiled.
“Good morning” Alessia beamed, wrapping you straight into a hug.
“Where you off to?” Ella asked, looking you up and down. You were just in a pair of shorts and a hoodie.
“Off to help the messiest person alive pack her bags” you rolled your eyes. The pair knew you and Leah were close friends, but not that you’d been dating for three years. Nobody knew that.
“Her shorts would probably be better off in the bag than on you” Ella laughed as you looked down at Leah’s number displayed on your thigh.
“Oh no, maybe she’s rubbing off on me” you groaned, making the two girls laugh. “Are you both packed?” You asked and they both nodded.
“Y/n, can you hurry up?” Leah grunted from her door.
“Duty calls” you saluted them both.
“Morning Lessi” Leah smirked.
“Morning” she smiled back, innocently.
“I wonder what she would think if she knew how I made her sister-” she whispered to you as you got closer and you pushed her into her room before she could finish her sentence.
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You know she’s terrified of you as it is” you laughed, shaking your head.
You began packing her big bag neatly, before you told her to go and get your bag from your room. She wheeled both of them down to the lobby while you were scrolling on your phone. You were now both dawned in matching tracksuits with each other’s numbers on the opposite person, accidentally.
“Maybe just permanently switch numbers” Ella teased as she tapped the printing on your chest.
“I’m the captain now” you done your best Leah imitation as she gave you the finger and went off to leave your bags in the pile before heading to speak to Georgia and Keira.
“Nice number, Russo #3” Georgia laughed at the blonde who punched her softly when she stood next to her.
“Sleep alright?” Keira asked with the slightest upticks of her lips.
“Yeah” Leah smiled. Probably the best sleep she’d had all camp. “You?” She asked as Keira fully smirked.
“Not really” she shook her head. “I was just saying to Georgia actually, maybe if the walls were thicker I would have slept better” her and Georgia’s smirks were growing wider as Leah gulped. She knew Keira was next door to her room.
“But at least none of us were out of our rooms and in someone else’s all night, right?” She asked.
“And none of us have secret girlfriends to have in our rooms” Georgia pointed out with a laugh.
“Can you two shut up?” Leah pleaded as their giddiness was starting to make their voices grow louder.
“Why? Did you have your secret girlfriend in your room all night?” Keira asked, bursting out laughing, making Georgia also fall into a fit of laughter.
“Leah looks annoyed” Alessia pointed out as you looked over. You knew that whatever conversation was going on over there, that she was fit to put one or both of their heads through the closest wall.
“Doesn’t she always?” You joked, trying to lighten the mood and forget what was happening.
“If you two stop laughing, I will tell you everything” Leah huffed as the pair tried to stop laughing.
“We just have one question” Keira said and Leah nodded at them, indicating they could ask.
“Who is it?” Georgia asked quickly, getting in ahead of Keira.
“What?” Leah laughed.
“We couldn’t make out who it was” Keira sighed.
“You can’t both surely be that thick?” Leah frowned before she pointed at the number on her chest.
“Oh fuck” Georgia shouted as she slapped Leah’s chest.
“Ow, G, fucking hell” Leah winced, rubbing her chest.
“You’ve been with her three years and you didn’t tell me” Keira was slapping Leah playfully to the beat of each syllable that left her mouth, making the captain laugh.
“Nobody knows, so can you please keep it down?” Leah asked.
“Not even Less?” Georgia frowned and Leah shook her head.
“Especially not Alessia”
Only one person knew about you and Leah, and that was Alex Scott. Leah and Alex were out one evening in a nightclub, when they’d randomly bumped into you and your friends from outside of football, who had no idea who the pair even were. That was the night you and Leah first kissed, and a few weeks later she asked you out.
“You know Alessia won’t object right? She’s already afraid of you” Keira laughed as Leah rolled her eyes.
“We just don’t know how to tell her” Leah shrugged.
“Ladies can we get a move on? Onto the coach please” a member of staff shouted.
You made your way out to the bus with Ella and Alessia while Leah made her way with Georgia and Keira. It was just a quick trip to the airport but that didn’t stop Leah frowning when she realised Alessia had taken the seat beside you.
“Lessi, don’t leave Tooney all alone” Leah smirked. “Go on, up you get” she said as the younger blonde scrambled to her feet and rushed into the seat beside Ella.
“Lee, be nice” you warned. “You know she gets nervous flying” you pouted, looking back at her anxious little face.
“Less, I was just joking, sit here if you want” Leah called but the blonde shook her head.
“I don’t get why she’s so mean to me all the time” Alessia frowned.
“Probably cause she’s friends with Y/n. It’s harmless Lessi” Ella shrugged.
“Stop being mean to her or I will out you as the little spoon that you are” you whispered with a smirk.
“Baby, you promised to stop using that as a threat” Leah pouted as she sunk into the chair next to you.
“Actually, Keira and Georgia know” she said nonchalantly as she stretched in the seat.
“I’m sorry?” You asked.
“Apparently the walls are stick thin in George’s Park” Leah laughed as you blushed in embarrassment.
“Leah, that’s so humiliating” you groaned. “Why didn’t you deny it?”
“What was the point?” She whispered with a frown.
“We agreed only Alex was allowed to know. What if Alessia finds out?” You anxiously rubbed your hands together.
“So what if she finds out?” Leah shrugged.
“Lee, I’m not arguing with you about this right now” you groaned.
“No, you’re happy to just keep me a secret forever” she huffed as she stood up and moved to sit beside Lucy, who was a few rows behind you with Keira and Georgia down there too.
She walked by your sister who she gave a stern look to before turning away. You swung your head back in frustration before you put your headphones on and pressed your head against the window.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” Niamh asked.
“Sorry?” You took your headphones off as she smiled at you.
“Can I sit here?” She repeated.
“Yeah, of course Niamhy” you smiled.
“You’re normally stuck with Lessi or Leah on these trips” she pointed out.
“Well, I guess you’re stuck with me today” you laughed.
“I wouldn’t call it stuck” she shrugged. “Only if I have to sit beside you on the plane too” she smirked as you punched her arm.
“Is Niamh and your sister flirting?” Ella laughed, as the pair looked over at both of you.
“That’s hilarious” Alessia burst out laughing, which caught Leah’s attention.
She followed Alessia’s eyes, which were drawn on you and Niamh. She got up to go and walk towards you, but just as she did, the bus started moving and Lucy pulled her back into the seat. It was a quick drive, you and Niamh had just chatted the whole way to the airport. You stood up and got your things together as Niamh moved off the seat.
“See you on the plane” Niamh smiled, as she jogged to catch up to Esme and Lauren.
“You’re sitting with her on the plane too?” Leah frowned as she watched you take your bag and shuffle off the bus.
“Y/n” Leah groaned, walking after you.
“Trouble in paradise already” Georgia laughed quietly to Keira.
“Lee, can you just stop? You could have sat with me on the bus but you were acting like a child” you rolled your eyes at the girl who’d just stopped protesting about you sitting with Niamh on the plane.
“Why were you flirting with her?” Leah frowned.
“Get a grip, Leah” you huffed, walking towards the nearest place to get a coffee and a treat for the plane.
It was clear to anyone watching that you were arguing. The only ones that were watching though, was Keira, Georgia and Alessia, although she was stood separately to the other two. You’d eventually gotten away from Leah, leaving her to pay for your coffee, and you started walking towards the gate.
“Here, I can take that” Niamh offered, trying to take your bag.
“It’s fine” you smiled and waved her away.
“No, give me it” she laughed, taking the bag as you both continued to walk. “Do you want a coffee or a smoothie or something?” She asked.
“Here” Leah pushed a coffee in front of you, exactly what you wanted right now. “Do you mind if I steal her for a minute?” Leah asked Niamh who frowned, shook her head and walked off.
“Thank you for my coffee” you smiled.
“I’m sorry for acting like a dickhead” she began. “I’ll speak to Keira and G, but please stop winding me up with Niamh” she huffed.
“Was it because she took my bag?” You smirked.
“Obviously, that’s my job” Leah protested. “Can you sit with me on the plane?” She pleaded as you nodded.
A staff member called for you all to board the plane, when Leah headed over to Niamh. You watched her say something to the brunette who smiled and nodded.
“Sit in your assigned seats. You can move once we’re in flight” the staff member shouted. You shuffled in beside Georgia and Keira who both smirked at you as you sat down.
“Don’t start” you rolled your eyes at them as they both laughed. Leah checked the rows and pushed into the seat beside what she thought was Alex.
“Alright?” Leah asked as Alessia whipped her head around.
“Hi” Alessia anxiously replied. Leah was taken aback that it was your sister she was sitting beside, but quickly got a bit protective as your sister looked a mess.
“You okay Less? You look real pale” Leah whispered, turning to face her.
“I hate flying” she shook her head.
“Yeah, I know” Leah nodded, remembering all the times you’d had to keep her calm on a plane.
“Can I do anything?” She asked as your sister looked at her funny. Leah was never nice to her, always teasing her in some way or another.
“Can you just make sure when we take off to get Y/n or Tooney?” Alessia asked as the captain nodded. As the plane went up, Alessia’s heart dropped and grabbed Leah’s hand to squeeze it tightly.
“It’s okay Less” Leah rubbed her hand with her thumb. Meanwhile, you were completely missing this interaction due to being quizzed by Georgia and Keira.
“How did it happen?”
“Who asked who out?”
“Do you live together?”
“Do you love her?”
“What are your intentions with our Leah?”
“Can you both please-” you groaned and sighed in relief as the seatbelt sign went off. You saw Leah practically jump out of her seat, scanning the plane until eventually her eyes settled on you and she gestured you over quickly.
“Don’t keep her waiting” Georgia smirked as both of the girls fell into a state of laughter again.
“Everything okay?” You asked the girl, touching her fingertips briefly with yours, before looking at the seat she’d just jumped from.
“Oh my god, Lessi” you pushed Leah out of the way and jumped in beside your sister. She had always been awful on flights, even when you were kids you sometimes begged for Alessia not to come on holidays because she would scream and cry for the whole flight.
“Can you stay for the rest of this?” She asked, still pale as a ghost.
“Of course, just try and relax. It will go by so quickly” you smiled, grabbing hold of her hands. “Lee, can you get her some water?” You asked as she went down the aisle to ask the hostess for a bottle.
“Here, kid” Leah handed her a bottle of water as your eyes gestured to the seat next to you.
Leah slipped into the seat, understanding that’s what the look you’d given her meant. It was a bumpy flight, and you thanked the heavens that you’d gotten Alessia settled and she was sleeping comfortably against the window, or so you’d presumed.
“Some anniversary” Leah whispered and playfully rolled her eyes.
“Well, I heard we’re sharing rooms in Paris” you smirked. “And I think you’d like my roommate, she’s just as mean as you” you teased.
“I’m not mean” Leah huffed.
“You know you are” you replied, your tone slightly serious.
Due to Alessia’s eyes being shut, she couldn’t see the smiles or the touches you two shared, she could just hear the conversation. She couldn’t see the smirk on your face and the playful scowl Leah was giving you. She could just hear you and Leah arguing about Leah being mean.
The plane eventually landed and all three of you woke up simultaneously as the plane hit the ground. Alessia was asleep on your back, due to you being turned and cuddled into Leah. Your hand quickly broke free from where it was holding Leah’s as you looked around and sighed in relief that nobody was in the row opposite you. You quickly checked on Alessia and let her cuddle into you while you waited for the plane to stop. You got off the flight and boarded yet another bus, where you went back to sleep against Leah.
“Baby, we’re here” Leah whispered ever so quietly so nobody could hear the pet name. Although, it was just Georgia and Keira behind you. The plan for today was for a light training session and then back to the hotel to chill for the rest of the night.
You and Leah, like usual, paired up together and in typical Leah fashion, she teased the life out of you. She teased you during training, she teased you on the bus back to the hotel and she teased you while you were sitting on the couch in the room that you were all relaxing in. You don’t know in particular what caused it. Maybe it was you rolling your eyes for the 500th time today, or just overall frustration, but Alessia snapped as she watched Leah drive you demented. Leah was so harmless though, you did not mind her teasing at all. It was just the way your girlfriend was.
“Do you ever fucking stop?” Alessia proclaimed loudly, making you almost jump out of your skin.
“Sorry?” Leah turned with a smirk, slightly amused that your sister was riled up.
“Can you not just sit quietly? Or maybe not make my sister the butt of your jokes for a change?” She hissed.
“Less, that’s enough” you said sternly as Leah laughed.
“No, she’s always mean to me too. Why are you even friends with her?” Alessia was furious, but now so were you.
“I was nice to you on the plane” Leah said in a low voice, like she was trying not to ruin her reputation of being stern. You forgot the entire team was in the room as you stared at your sister, who either forgot or didn’t care who could hear.
“I said that’s enough, Alessia” you repeated and Leah knew what that tone meant. You were one more thing out from being pushed to start speaking in Italian.
“Right, maybe let’s just calm it down” Keira stepped in.
Leah’s smirk was still there, but mostly due to how anxious she was about the ongoing heated conversation. She always laughed or smirked uncomfortably when she was anxious.
“Yeah, Less let’s just go for a walk or something” Ella tried to take hold of Alessia’s arm but she freed herself from her best friend’s grip.
“Would you not rather be friends with someone who actually cares about you?” Alessia questioned.
“I do care about her” Leah frowned, now she was furious. It was on the tip of Leah’s tongue to tell your sister the truth and you were so appreciative that she hadn’t just spat it out.
“Well maybe stop acting like a cocky little dickhead all the time then” Alessia shouted.
“Alessia, do not speak to her like that” you snapped.
“Why do you care so much about-”
“Leah’s my fucking girlfriend, that’s why” you cut her off as everyone in the room froze. You heard whispers around the room and that’s when you were brought back to the realisation that the entire team was in here.
“She’s your what?” Alessia stuttered.
“Okay, okay let’s all just take a deep breath” Georgia now spoke, trying to defuse the situation. Leah jumped to her feet, guiding you quickly out of the room and all the way up to your shared room, where you collapsed on the other side of the door.
“Hey, breathe, it’s okay” she cooed as she sat infront of you and held your hands tightly.
“This is all my fault” you sobbed.
“Baby, come on. It’s going to be okay” Leah reassured you as she pulled you against her and let you cry. Keeping Leah a secret had been so hard, but after just one argument with Alessia, you’d ripped off the band aid like it was nothing.
“She’s going to hate me” you cried.
“She’s your sister, she’s not going to hate you. Me, maybe, but not you” Leah laughed. She always knew how to make you smile, even if you were in a bad situation.
“Let’s go talk to her” Leah said, standing up and taking your hand. You took her hand as she helped you up. She tucked your loose hair behind your ears before kissing you gently on the forehead. “Love you” she whispered.
“Love you too” you smiled. She went to grab a bottle of water beside the bed as you wiped your eyes quickly. You opened the door to reveal Alessia, stood on the other side.
“Love?” She asked as you practically yanked the girl in and closed the door. “You’re in love with her? How long has this being going on for?”
“Less, I just didn’t know how to tell you” you softly said.
“How long?” She asked again, a bit more sternly.
“Three years” Leah frowned. “Today is our anniversary”
“You kept this from me for three years?” Alessia pouted. She thought you two were as close as sisters could be.
“You told Keira and Georgia and not me?” Alessia was angry now. You’d started crying again when you felt a horrible wave of guilt wash over you.
“Can you cut her some slack?” Leah grunted.
“Stay out of this” Alessia hissed.
“No, actually. You’re making my girlfriend upset and unless you’re going to stop shouting at her, I’m gonna ask you to leave” Leah raised her eyebrows.
Your sister’s new found confidence for standing up for herself was now lost. Maybe not with you, but Leah could turn serious and intimidating in the space of a few seconds.
“I told Keira and Georgia this morning, the specifics as to why I did don’t matter right now. Your sister decided to keep it between us, and you need to just respect that. You know now” Leah was soft spoken but stern.
“Lessi, I’m really sorry. I know I should have told you. I just- I love Lee so much and I didn’t want anybody to get in between that or any pressure to be on us” you shook your head.
“So, you two are actually together?” Alessia asked, looking a bit stunned.
“Is that alright?” Leah smugly asked and Alessia nodded.
“If you’re not okay with this, please tell me” you pulled your sister’s hands so she would look back at you.
“She can’t tease me anymore” Alessia huffed.
“I can’t agree to that, that’s who I am” Leah argued.
“Leah” you grunted and stared at her.
“Fine, okay, yeah, I can lay off” she shrugged.
“I’ll see you in the morning okay? We can talk then, alone” you whispered as you gave your younger sister a hug.
“I’m not angry, I love you” she smiled as she pressed her forehead against your shoulder.
“Love you too” you smiled sweetly. As Alessia opened the door and left, it was like something clicked in Leah as she ran out after her.
“Two seconds, don’t follow me” she said as she sprinted by you and out the door. Before you could even get her name out of your mouth she was gone.
“Less” Leah shouted after your sister.
“Yeah?” The girl asked as she stopped walking and turned to face Leah.
“I’m sorry if it came across to you like I didn’t care about her” Leah began before clearing her throat. “I really love your sister and I care about her more than anything in the world”
“Well, it’s clear she really loves you too” Alessia smiled before turning away.
“Wait, Less” Leah pleaded as the girl turned back around looking confused.
“I’m sorry if it seemed like I was picking on you. I was just trying to get along with you more and I didn’t know it was upsetting you” Leah pouted. “It’s just the way Tooney is with you, that I didn’t think you minded”
“I’ve known Tooney my whole life, though” she shrugged and Leah nodded.
“I’m sorry, I hope there’s no bad blood and we can be friends” Leah stuck out her hand.
“Come here you big softie” Alessia chuckled pulling Leah in for a hug who immediately wrapped her hands around the blonde forward.
“We’re okay” Alessia added before letting Leah go and walked back to her room. Leah got back to the door, where you were stood in the frame.
“Thank you” you smiled.
“Yeah, yeah, get inside” Leah smirked.
The floor of the hotel was silent, even with girls sharing rooms. Due to flying and training and the dramatic reveal in the chill out area earlier, most people had opted to head straight to sleep.
“You awake?” Leah whispered as she felt you wriggle in her hold.
“Yeah” you replied quietly, turning to face her now, and smiling when you saw her.
“I got you something for our anniversary and I completely forgot about it until now. Do you want it now or in the morning?” Leah asked.
“Now. Obviously now” you giggled as you sat up and she laughed with a shuffle to get to her feet, turning on the light as she left the bed. She dug around her bag, the small one you hadn’t packed, until she eventually got her hand on a small box and pulled it out.
“Here” she smiled, handing you the box and sat anxiously on the foot of the bed, hugging her knees.
You opened the box to reveal a keyring attached to a key. You knew it was the key to Leah’s house that you already had, because you’d drawn a little heart on the side of it.
“What’s this?” You laughed. “You’re regifting me my own key to your house?”
“Look at the key ring” Leah whispered, hugging her knees even tighter. It was a picture of a little house with writing underneath that read:
Y/n and Leah’s
You stared at the keyring before you looked back at her.
“Will you move in with me?” She asked.
“Yes, yes. Oh my god Lee, yes” you squealed as you jumped to hug her.
“Oh my god Georgia, wouldn’t it be so bad for a certain couple if the walls were also thin here and everyone heard them” Keira dramatically shouted from the next room.
“Oh yes Keira, it would be terrible for everyone. And I repeat, everyone” Georgia shouted louder.
“God I hate them so much” Leah groaned.
“We won’t have this issue at Y/n and Leah’s” you smiled and kissed her again.
bit longer than usual… but the one everyone’s been asking for
masterlist
the house had been quiet when alessia left that morning. she'd kissed leah goodbye and then crouched down in front of you, still curled up beneath the duvet after climbing into your mummy's bed in the early hours, hair sticking up in every possible direction.
"i've laid everything out for you, lovie." alessia smiled as you moved slightly still not coming to the terms of it being morning time, as you nodded sleepily.
"and your england shirt's on the chair." alessia continued even though she was talking to you she was merely more reminding leah as you nodded sleepily again. "and your trainers."
"ok." was the most response your mummy got this morning as you stirred a little more, leah lying across from you scrolling aimlessly through her phone.
"and don't give mama a hard time." alessia added on the end her expression a bit more firm even though you didn't see it you could hear it
you moved to sit up slightly as you shot your mummy an offended look. "i never do. i mama's angel!"
leah had laughed so hard she'd nearly spilled her coffee on the white sheets of the bed, before muttering, "my angel devil"
several hours later and leah would come to regret not checking the wardrobe before casually mentioning the england shirt.
she's been so confident, too confident of everything going smoothly.
alessia had laid everything out before leaving for matchday. your tiny england shirt. navy shorts. white frilly socks. even your favourite little trainers sat neatly by the bedroom door.
simple and easy. there was absolutely no reason this should become difficult.
"angel," leah called from the bottom of the stairs as she slipped her own jacket on, having been ready for ages now. "are you nearly ready?"
"nearly!" you callled back your voice travelling down the stairs.
leah smiled to herself. "good girl!" she checked the time on her phone, you both were running perfectly on time.
five minutes passed and leah packed snacks into your little backpack, knowing majority would more than likely be gone before you even made it to wembley.
another five minutes disappeared. still no small footsteps. still no excited five-year-old charging down the stairs announcing that you were ready.
leah frowned as she placed her keys back on the table that was next to the door, "angel?"
"still getting dressed!" you called back, sounding hurried.
"...how are you still getting dressed?" leah called back but you probably hadn't heard her as there was no response just the unmistakable sound of wardrobe doors opening and closing and drawers sliding
something falling onto the floor and a tiny voice saying, "oops."
leah laughed quietly to herself but that should've been her warning.
she climbed the stairs, already rehearsing a gentle reminder that they needed to leave soon. "angel?" she knocked lightly before pushing open the bedroom door.
"...absolutely not." leah gasps as she stood mouth wide open at the door
you stood proudly in front of the full-length mirror, one hand on your hip, the other smoothing down the front of your shirt with enormous satisfaction.
not the england shirt alessia had carefully folded onto your bed. not even one of your many arsenal tops.
instead... you were wearing a tiny barcelona shirt that reached just below your shorts. the blue and garnet stripes looked almost comically bright against the rest of the room.
leah slowly walked around until she could see the back, her shoulders dropped.
across it, in bold white letters... ALEXIA.. 11
you spun around with the biggest grin imaginable. "i look pretty."
leah pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to think of a way that was going to slowly let you down, "angel..."
"what?" you glanced at your mama through the mirror, slightly confused you were ready so why weren't you leaving yet?
"...you do look pretty." leah began, her bottom lip being bit by her top lip at she tried desperately to find the words, "you also look.... very spanish-"
you giggled, the type that would make anyone melt, you definitely not understanding what leah was getting at, " i match alexia!"
"...you certainly do." leah sighed as you twirled twirled once in front of the mirror before holding your arms out dramatically.
"so we're ready!"
"no." leah said quickly as you stopped still.
you blinked, confused. "...no?"
"no." leah echoed as she walked over to the bed and picked up the untouched england shirt. it still had the tiny fold lines from where alessia had laid it out that morning.
leah held it up. "what happened to this one?"
you shrugged with complete innocence. "i changed my mind."
"i can see that." leah said as the england top stayed in her hands, there was no ways she could let you watch england in a barcelona shirt.. "we're watching england."
"i know."
"so..."
"so." you shrugged, you didn't get what the problem was, mama had asked you to get ready so you did.
"...why are you dressed like barcelona?" leah asked as maybe there was a compromise the two of you could make and you would wear the england shirt to the england game.
"'cause alexia plays there." you smiled, pointing to the shirt you were wearing as leah nodded, "and she's my favourite."
"i know she is."
"so..." you looked at her as though that explained absolutely everything which, in your mind, it did.
leah stared back as the silence stretched. eventually leah crouched so you both were at eye level. "sweetheart..."
"yeah?" you smiled at leah.
"you can wear this another day." leah tried slowly it hurting slightly that she was going to have to hurt your feelings slightly.
"but i want it today." you frowned, as your brow furrowed.
"but england are playing spain" leah tried again to explain, as you nodded along "alexia plays for spain... so don't you think.."
leah paused, mentally trying to solve a puzzle that had currently had no solution. "...maybe today we wear england?"
"i am supporting england." you told leah as she blinked losing your point of argument straight away.
"...you're wearing spain's captain on your back." leah pointed to your barcelona shirt.
"it's barcelona."
"i know it's barcelona."
"so not spain." you quipped back with a smile as leah was stunned slightly by your quickness.
leah opened her mouth then closed it again. technically... "that is not the point."
"but mummy knows i love alexia." you pouted, as leah held you closer rubbing a hand up and down your back as she hummed.
"she love alexia too..." you continued your ramble, as leah's face turned a little, "and alexia is mummy's friend"
"...they are?" leah asked more thinking aloud, not being totally in the loop on that apparent friendship.
"so it's nice." you finished your ramble as you looked a leah with a small smile, as she rubbed a hand over her face.
somehow every answer only made the conversation harder, "you're making this incredibly difficult for someone who's only five." leah mumbled as she looked back at you.
"i'm nearly six."
"that doesn't help."
you folded your tiny arms, deciding you weren't taking the shirt off. "i'm wearing this one."
"no.”
twenty minutes later, the england shirt had been offered and rejected. an arsenal shirt had been suggested as a compromise and again rejected.
even a plain white t-shirt had somehow been dismissed because... "it doesn't have football on it."
leah was rapidly running out of ideas.
"angel."
"no."
"angel."
"no."
"you have approximately three minutes before we absolutely have to leave." leah spoke seriously looking at the time on her phone before sliding it back in her pocket.
"i'm ready." you said with a hint of sass as you stood hand on the stair railing coming down the stairs painfully slow.
"in the wrong shirt." leah mumbled turning to grab her keys as you heard her, "in the right shirt."
leah turned back to you as you managed to come down a stair, "what if mummy feels sad?"
your eyes widened as you pressed both hands dramatically to your cheeks taking a seat on the stairs, "mummy would never be sad."
"she might." leah raised an eyebrow, this was her last gamble.
"no." you huffed.
"she could think you aren't cheering for england."
you frowned, really frowned and for a whole five seconds leah thought she'd finally won.
then your little face lit up. "i'll cheer really loud."
"...in a spain shirt."
"a barcelona shirt."
"that's... somehow worse."
"i'll shout..." you took the deepest breath you could manage. "COME ON MUMMY!"
the shout echoed around the hallway so loudly it probably reached the neighbours that leah actually flinched.
leah rubbed a hand over her face before looking back at you who was standing in front of her with all the determination of someone three times her size.
"...thank you for the demonstration," leah said dryly.
you folded your arms across your little barcelona shirt and lifted your chin triumphantly. "see?" you declared. "i told you i can shout really loud."
"i heard you," leah replied, trying not to laugh despite herself.
"so mummy will hear me too." there was absolutely no flaw in your logic, at least not in your own mind.
leah pinched the bridge of her nose. the two of you had been having the same conversation for the better part of half an hour.
england shirt? "no."
arsenal shirt. "no."
anything that didn't have alexia putellas' name on the back was apparently a "definite no." in your eyes
every suggestion had been met with the exact same answer, so with no ideas left...
leah reached for her phone. if anyone was going to convince you...it would be alessia. leah opened their messages and quickly typed.
le | we have a situation.
the typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
less | ??
leah glanced over at you, who immediately posed the second you realised a photo was being taken.
you planted your feet proudly on the third step up from the bottom, backpack already on. barcelona shirt neatly tucked into your shorts. alexia's name stretched proudly across the back.
then, just to make absolutely sure alessia understood how pleased you were with yourself. you gave the camera two enthusiastic thumbs up and the biggest grin imaginable.
leah sighed dramatically before sending the photo. three little dots appeared almost immediately. another message popped up.
less | 😂😂😂
a second later...
less | that's the one gio bought her
leah slowly lowered her phone and looked back at you. the shirt. the suspiciously smug smile and the complete lack of guilt.
"...of course he did," she muttered to herself.
leah typed another message.
le | THIS IS NOT FUNNY.
the reply came before she'd even locked her phone.
less | little bit funny.
leah rolled her eyes so hard they practically reached the ceiling.
leah | she has refused for THIRTY MINUTES.
another typing bubble.
less | gotta pick your battles sometimes babe 😂
leah stared at the message in complete disbelief.
le | you're unbelievable.
the was a pause this time before another reply appeared.
less | she's still coming to support englnad.
less | just... in a very lovie way.
leah looked over at the little girl again.
you were quietly spinning in circles now, making the barcelona shirt flare out around you as though you'd already won the argument.
which, judging by alessia's response... you probably had.
leah sighed cause as frustrating as it was...alessia wasn't entirely wrong. you weren't refusing to support england.
you were just insisting on doing it while proudly wearing the shirt of the footballer you adored most in the world.
another message appeared.
less | tell her i love her.
leah smiled despite herself, of course that was alessia's priority.
she typed one final reply.
le | she'll use that against me.
less | yeah probably 😂
leah laughed quietly under her breath before slipping her phone back into her pocket then she turned around.
you were already standing by the front door, bouncing impatiently on the balls of your feet. the second leah looked at you, those bright eyes widened hopefully. "mummy says she loves me?"
"...yes."
your smile grew even wider. "and she didn't say i have to change my shirt?"
leah hesitated, only for the tiniest fraction of a second. just enough for the guilt to settle in. "...no."
you gasped dramatically before throwing both fists into the air. "i win!"
you celebrated as though you'd just scored the winning goal at wembley, bouncing twice on the spot before rushing over and grabbing leah's hand.
"come on!" you said excitedly, already tugging her towards the front door. "we don't want to miss mummy!" leah allowed herself to be pulled along, laughing softly as she followed.
halfway down the hallway she glanced at the little barcelona shirt beside her. at the bright navy and garnet stripes. at PUTELLAS 11 stretched proudly across the back. then at the tiny hand wrapped so trustingly around her own. her heart softened despite every ounce of exasperation she'd felt over the last thirty minutes.
she let out the long, weary sigh of someone who had accepted defeat long before the final whistle. "i hope your mother appreciates how many grey hairs you've just given me."
you immediately looked up at her, studying leah's hair with complete seriousness. and after several seconds of careful inspection you shook your head. "you don't have grey hairs."
leah smiled. "...i will by kick-off."
you burst into a fit of giggles that echoed through the hallway then you tilted your head. "i still look pretty though?"
leah's entire expression melted. she crouched just enough to press a gentle kiss against the top of your head before smoothing down one of the little curls that had escaped your ponytail.
"you do." her smile grew. "you also happen to be the most stubborn child in england."
you beamed proudly, taking that as the highest compliment imaginable. "i get it from mummy."
leah laughed properly this time, she couldn't even deny it.
"...unfortunately," she said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as you both stepped outside together, "you really, really do."
⸻
the atmosphere at wembley swallowed up almost everything else.
flags, songs, england shirts everywhere. except... one very small barcelona shirt.
several staff members smiled as you walked past hand in hand with leah
one laughed. "brave choice today."
you nodded confidently. "i know."
leah muttered under her breath. "tell me about it." as you took your seats not far from the england dugout
england won and as the final whistle blew the stadium erupted.
you were already bouncing on the balls of your feet, practically tugging leah's arm out of its socket every few seconds.
"mummy!" you squealed, already pointing towards the pitch even though alessia was still surrounded by teammates, staff and cameras.
leah laughed quietly, shaking her head. you bounced again, unable to stand still for more than half a second.
"can we go?" you asked, your voice high with excitement. "please mama? can we go now?"
"as soon as they let families through," leah said patiently, smoothing down a curl that had escaped your ponytail. "they'll open the barrier in a minute."
"but it's been ages." you dragged out the word in frustration.
"it hasn't." leah smiled knowingly.
"it feels like ages." you let out an exaggerated sigh, your shoulders slumping dramatically before you immediately started bouncing again.
every few seconds you stretched onto your tiptoes, trying to see over the crowd of waiting families. "can you see mummy?"
"not yet."
"what about now?"
"nope."
"now?”
leah couldn't help laughing. "no, sweetheart."
the wait felt endless. for you, every second seemed to last a whole minute. you practically vibrated with excitement, clutching your esme the elephant
the second the barrier finally open, you didn't even wait for leah to finish saying, "careful..." you were already off.
tiny trainers flying across the grass.
"slow down!" leah called after her, laughing despite herself. across the pitch, alessia turned at the sound of a familiar voice.
"lovie?"
there you were. tiny, curly hair bouncing behind you with every step. the bright barcelona shirt stood out amongst a sea of white england shirts like a beacon.
alessia couldn't stop herself laughing. of course, only her daughter would wear a barcelona shirt to an england match.
alessia opened both arms wide. "lovie!" she called, her face breaking into the biggest smile she'd worn all day.
"mummy!" you squealed back, your little legs somehow moving even faster. you launched yourself the final few steps.
alessia caught you effortlessly, lifting you straight off the ground with a soft grunt before spinning you around once.
"there she is," alessia laughed warmly, pulling you into a tight hug. "there's my girl."
you wrapped both arms around her neck so tightly it was almost impossible to breathe. "i missed you," you mumbled into alessia's shoulder.
"i missed you too," alessia replied softly, rubbing gentle circles across your back.
you leaned back just enough to beam at her. "i saw you score!" you announced proudly, your eyes impossibly bright.
alessia gasped dramatically, "you did?" she asked, widening her eyes in mock surprise.
you nodded so enthusiastically your curls bounced. "i shouted really, really loud."
"you did?"
"mhm!"
alessia tapped the end of your nose. "i heard you."
you narrowed your eyes suspiciously before dissolving into a giggle. "you didn't," you declared confidently.
"i definitely did," alessia insisted with a grin
"no you didn't."
"i've got super hearing."
"you haven't."
"i have."
"you were all the way over there," you argued, pointing towards the corner flag on the opposite side to where you'd been sitting.
"i still heard you."
"nuh-uh.”
"yep."
you laughed so hard you nearly slipped from alessia's arms "you being silly, mummy"
"i might be, just a little bit" alessia brushed a curl away from your face before finally taking a proper look at what you were wearing.
her eyes dropped to the navy and garnet shirt, she tilted her head dramatically. "...hang on," she said, pretending to sound confused as if she hadn't seen the photo of you before you'd left the house with leah. "where's your england shirt?"
you blinked then looked down at yourself as though you'd genuinely forgotten what you'd put on that morning. "oh."
you shrugged one shoulder without a hint of guilt. "i wanted alexia."
alessia pressed her lips together, trying very hard not to laugh. "i can see that," she chuckled.
you searched her face carefully. "you don't mind?" you asked quietly.
alessia's expression softened immediately as she shook her head. "no, baby,," she said gently. "i don't mind."
"really?"
"really."
you smiled with obvious relief. "you still know i wanted england to win," you explained earnestly.
"i know," alessia replied, nodding.
"and i cheered when you scored."
"i know you did."
"i shouted, 'go mummy!'"
"you did."
"and..." you hesitated for a second before admitting with complete honesty, "...i shouted for alexia too."
alessia laughed again, unable to help herself. "i figured that might've happened."
"i like both of you." you admitted as alessia nodded she knew this, "but you're my favourite.”
alessia raised an eyebrow playfully. "...by a lot?"
you leaned in conspiratorially. "by this much," you whispered, holding your fingers barely an inch apart.
alessia laughed loudly. "only that much?"
you burst into giggles. "no." and you threw both arms as wide as they would go. "THIS much."
"that's better," alessia said, pulling you into another hug and kissing the top of your head.
a little later and you had somehow vanished. alessia frowned, immediately scanning the pitch.
"where's..."
"there!" leah laughed, pointing towards the opposite side of the grass.
ella was sprinting away with exaggerated panic plastered across her face. "no!" ella cried dramatically, glancing over her shoulder. "she's too fast!"
behind her, you chased after her with determined little legs. "i'm gonna get you!" you squealed between giggles.
"you'll never catch me!" ella called, deliberately slowing down just enough for you to think you were gaining.
"i will!"
"no chance!"
"I'M REALLY FAST!"
"you are!" ella laughed. "that's the problem!"
a second later ella pretended to trip over absolutely nothing.
"oh no!" she stumbled dramatically before collapsing onto the grass with an exaggerated groan. "i've been caught!"
you launched herself onto ella's back, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
"i win!" you declared triumphantly, throwing your arms in the air.
"you always win, kiddo" ella sighed theatrically, throwing one arm over her eyes. "i never stood a chance."
"you didn't," you agreed very seriously.
leah and alessia smiled as they watched the pair rolling around on the grass as alessia slipped an arm around leah's waist, "you look tired."
"i argued with a five year old for thirty seven minutes," leah said with a dramatic sigh, folding her arms across her chest.
alessia glanced over at her, a smile already tugging at her lips. "only thirty-seven?" she teased. "i'm impressed."
leah let out a quiet laugh and shook her head. "thirty-nine if we're being precise," she corrected.
alessia laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. "you could've just let her," she pointed out, bumping leah's shoulder lightly.
"i know," leah admitted with an exaggerated groan. she looked across the pitch to where you were currently chasing ella around with determined little legs before turning back to alessia.
"but it's england!" she exclaimed, throwing one hand into the air.
"i know," alessia replied, still smiling.
"and she's wearing spain's captain on her back," leah continued in disbelief.
alessia chuckled, trying not to laugh too hard at how genuinely offended leah still sounded. "it's barcelona," alessia corrected gently.
leah gave her an unimpressed look. "it's practically the same thing today," she argued.
alessia couldn't help herself. she stepped closer and pressed a soft kiss to leah's cheek. "thank you," she murmured.
leah blinked, her teasing expression immediately melting into something much softer. "for what?" she asked quietly.
alessia glanced over to where you were now triumphantly declaring yourself the winner of yet another game you'd definitely been allowed to win.
"for looking after her," alessia said, her voice warm with gratitude. "for putting up with thirty-nine minutes of negotiations over a football shirt... and everything else while I've been away."
leah smiled, reaching for alessia's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "always" she replied without an ounce of hesitation.
the final whistles of conversations echoed around the pitch as staff began gently ushering players towards the tunnel.
"come on, girls!" someone from england's staff called. "inside, please!"
one by one, players started saying their goodbyes to family members.
ella dramatically complained that she'd "definitely pulled a hamstring" after losing six games of tag to a five-year-old before jogging away, making you giggle as you waved your auntie ella goodbye.
leah reached for your hand. "come on, angel. mummy has to head in, we'll see her afterwards"
you nodded, though your eyes wandered around the pitch one last time, trying to soak everything in.
then you stopped. "...mama." leah followed her gaze.
a small group of spanish players were making their way towards the same tunnel from the opposite side of the pitch, chatting amongst themselves and signing the odd shirt and taking a few photos with fans.
one of them looked up, mariona. the arsenal forward paused mid-conversation her eyes immediately landed on the tiny barcelona shirt.
a grin spread across her face. she nudged the player walking beside her, saying something quietly in spanish. laia looked over too before laughing softly.
mariona gave the group a quick wave to say she'd catch them up before changing direction completely. instead of heading for the tunnel...
she walked straight towards them.
"lovie," alessia laughed quietly beside leah. "i think you've been spotted."
your eyes widened. "super mario!"
you let go of leah's hand and hurried over, stopping just in front of the arsenal teammate you'd seen dozens of times at your mummy's training.
mariona's smile softened immediately, she crouched down so she was eye level with you, "hola, pequeña," she greeted warmly.
you gave a shy little wave. "...hiya."
"its good to see you again," mariona said, her english carrying its familiar spanish accent.
you nodded. "you too.”
mariona's eyes drifted down to the shirt as she laughed quietly. "i had a feeling you'd be wearing barcelona."
you looked down proudly, smoothing a hand over the front. "my uncle gio got it for me," you explained. "when he was in spain"
"its beautiful," mariona told you sincerely.
you beamed. "i love barca."
"i can tell," mariona replied with a grin.
laia had wandered over by now, folding her arms as she smiled at the little girl. "even today?" she asked teasingly, raising an eyebrow.
you nodded without a second's hesitation. "i wanted england to win," you said earnestly. both spanish's players smiled.
"nut..." you continued, glancing down at the shirt again with obvious pride, "...i also like alexia."
mariona laughed, exchanging an amused look with laia. "i think someone would quite like to hear that."
you frowned in confusion. "...what?"
mariona held out her hand with an encouraging smile. "venir."
you instinctively looked back over your shoulder towards your mummy and mama, "can i?"
alessia smiled immediately. "go on."
leah chuckled, giving you a gentle nudge forward. "just don't forget who feeds you, yeah!"
"i won't!" you promised quickly before slipping your tiny hand into mariona's.
mariona smiled to herself as she led you towards the tunnel where the remaining spanish players were waiting and across the pitch the a few players drifting between groups of supporters.
they were signing shirts, posing for photos, stopping for small conversations that were never quite as quick as security wanted them to be.
meat the advertising boards, alexia was doing exactly that. a barcelona shirt then a spain one, a programme and then another shirt.
she thanked each supporter with a smile, chatting in spanish before moving onto the next person. then she looked up.
mariona was walking towards her and beside her a tiny little girl with bouncy curls and a barcelona shirt that looked just a touch too big.
alexia’s eyes immediately landed on the back of it.
PUTELLAS. 11.
her own name and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “hola.”
you stopped, instantly. every ounce of confidence you’d somehow found talking to mariona and laia completely disappeared.
you simply stared, wide-eyed. mouth slightly open.
mariona chuckled quietly beside you. “i think you’ve made someone very nervous.”
your trainers stayed rooted to the grass, mariona gave your shoulder the gentlest little nudge. “it’s okay.”
alexia laughed softly, already lowering herself into a crouch so she wasn’t towering over the little girl. “hola.” her voice was gentle as she waved slightly, patient and warm, “you don’t have to be scared.”
you swallowed, you couldn’t quite believe the alexia putellas was in front of you, “…hi.”
alexia glanced back at mariona with an amused smile “you’ve found a Barcelona supporter at wembley?”
mariona grinned. “not just any supporter.” she rested a hand lightly against your shoulder. “this little one has spent all afternoon proudly wearing your shirt.”
alexia looked back at you. “you wore my shirt?” a tiny nod came from you,
“you came to watch england…” another nod. “…and you still chose barcelona?”
you finally found enough courage to speak, very quietly. “so everyone knew.”
alexia tilted her head. “knew what?”
“…that you’re my favourite.” it was barely above a whisper. the kind of confession only someone standing inches away could hear.
for a second, alexia’s smile softened into something almost emotional. “well…” she placed a hand gently against her own chest. “thank you.”
she glanced back at mariona again, curiosity dancing across her face. “whose little girl is she?”
alexia looked between them once more then shook her head with a small laugh. “no…”
mariona nodded towards the england players still scattered across the pitch. “she’s baby russo.”
alexia blinked. “…russo?”
“alessia’s daughter.”
recognition immediately washed over her face as her eyebrows lifted. “no…”
mariona laughed. “si.”
alexia looked back at you in complete disbelief before glancing across the pitch. and sure enough standing a little further away: alessia and leah were both watching.
alessia had one hand over her mouth, already smiling before anything had even happened. leah folded her arms with a grin.
as alexia looked back to you. “so…” a playful smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “your mummy plays against me…”
you nodded. “…but today you wore my shirt.” another tiny nod as alexia laughed. “i think that’s very brave.”
nearby, laia had spotted the entire exchange unfolding and saying a word she pulled her phone from her pocket, “this needs recording,” she muttered with a smile.
the camera quietly captured everything.
alexia turned her full attention back to you. “so…”
“how old are you?”
“five .”
“five?”
you nodded. “i turned five.”
alexia smiled. “a big age.” she pointed gently towards the football still tucked under one of the advertising boards. “do you play football?”
“a little bit.” you nodded as mariona spoke for you saying you were football mad.
“a defender?”
you immediately looked horrified. “no.”
alexia laughed. “no?”
“i like passing.” you told alexia imitating one of your passing moves that you had learnt.
mariona snorted, “already a midfielder.”
alexia nodded approvingly. “a very important job.” she looked down at the barcelona shirt again. “and who bought you this?”
“my uncle gio.” you grinned proudly, “he knows barcelona is one of my favourite.”
“and he chose very well.” alexia nodded approvingly as you smiled shyly at the compliment. every answer came in tiny sentences, barely louder than a whisper.
nothing like the confident little chatterbox who had spent the afternoon proudly explaining to anyone who would listen why you couldn’t possibly wear an england shirt because “mummy already wears england.”
alexia found it endlessly adorable. another another minute of chatting and she reached into the pocket of a staff member standing nearby and borrowed a marker.
then she held it up. “may i sign your shirt for you?”
your eyes became enormous. “the… the shirt?”
alexia nodded with a smile “if that’s okay with you.”
for a second you simply stared as though you couldn’t quite believe you’d heard correctly then your entire face lit up. “yes please!”
alexia carefully turned the fabric so it stayed flat. slowly and neatly she signed her name beneath the number eleven. making sure not to smudge the ink before handing the pen back.
“there.”
you immediately looked down you reached out with one tiny finger and very carefully touched the fresh signature then looked back up.
your eyes were sparkling. “…thank you.”
“it was lovely meeting you, y/n.” alexia smiled before gently ruffling your curls. “i hope you keep enjoying football.”
“i will.”
“and maybe…” alexia winked. “…one day i’ll see you playing.”
you looked as though you’d stopped breathing altogether. “i’ll try.”
mariona smiled. “i think someone will remember today forever.”
“i think so too,” alexia replied warmly as she waved goodbye, a media officer ushering her away.
mariona held out her hand. “come on, pequeña.”
you slipped your tiny hand into mariona’s as you started walking back and laia’s phone was still recording and caught the exact second you spotted alessia standing not too far in the tunnel.
“mummy!”
you broke into a run. alessia barely had time to open her arms before the little girl launched herself forwards.
“oof!” she laughed, catching you effortlessly. “you met her!”
“I MET HER!” you squealed, practically bouncing in alessia’s arms.
alessia laughed, unable to stop smiling. “i know!”
“she talked to me!” you continued breathlessly, your words tumbling over one another in your excitement.
“i know she did,” alessia replied warmly, smoothing a curl back from your forehead.
“she knew my name!”
alessia’s eyes widened in exaggerated surprise as she gasped dramatically. “did she?”
you nodded so enthusiastically your curls bounced. “yeah! mariona told her i was little russo, and then she said, ‘it was lovely meeting you, y/n!’”
alessia couldn’t help laughing. “well… she was right.it was lovely meeting you.”
“and she touched my shirt!” you added, looking down at the signed barcelona top as though it had suddenly become the most precious thing in the world.
alessia grinned, glancing at the signature beneath the number eleven. “i noticed.”
“and she said uncle gio picked a good one!”
alessia smiled fondly, already imagining giorgio’s reaction when he heard the story. “i’m sure he’ll be very pleased to hear that.”
you hugged the front of your shirt protectively before looking back up at your mum, still beaming from ear to ear. “he’ll never believe me.”
“and…” you leaned in close, lowering her voice as though sharing the world’s biggest secret. “…she signed it.”
alessia looked down at the shirt, there it was. alexia putellas’ unmistakable signature beneath the eleven.
she couldn’t stop laughing. actual tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “i think…” she kissed the top of your curls. “…she liked you.”
you looked down at the signature one more time carefully smoothing the shirt with both hands then you looked back at her mum.
your voice was barely a whisper. “i think…” a tiny smile spread across your face. “…this is the best day ever.”
⸻
for the next three weeks, everyone suffered. every conversation somehow found its way back to alexia.
one morning over breakfast, you took a bite of your toast before announcing very matter-of-factly, “did you know alexia said my shirt was beautiful?”
alessia didn’t even look up from making coffee, used to this now. “yes” she replied with an amused smile.
a few hours later, as leah walked past the living room, “mama,” you called after her, “did you know alexia signed it?”
leah paused dramatically and rested a hand against her forehead. “only because you’ve told me fourteen times today.”
you frowned thoughtfully before holding up one finger. “it was fifteen,” you corrected proudly.
leah looked towards alessia. “…we’re raising a statistician.”
at breakfast the next day, you poked at your pancakes before looking up. “i think alexia likes pancakes probably.”
alessia smiled over the rim of her mug. “probably.”
leah snorted into her tea. “what makes you think that?”
you shrugged. “because everyone likes pancakes.”
“…can’t argue with that logic,” leah admitted.
in the car on the way to training, you gazed out of the window for a few moments before wondering aloud, “i wonder what Alexia’s favourite colour is.”
from the driver’s seat, alessia laughed. “i’ve absolutely no idea, baby.”
“you should ask her.”
leah burst out laughing from the passenger seat. “oh, just send her a quick text, less. ‘morning, by the way, what’s your favourite colour?’”
alessia shook her head, laughing. “i don’t think that’s happening.”
that evening, after stories had been read and the bedroom lights were dimmed, you hugged esme the elephant tightly.
“mummy?”
“mh?” alessia hummed, tucking the duvet around you.
“do you think alexia remembers me?”
alessia’s expression softened instantly. she brushed a curl away from your face. “i think she probably does.”
“you do?”
“i do.”
you smiled to herself. “good.”
even facetiming nonno and nonna became impossible. the second mario answered, “hi, tesoro!” he greeted with a grin.
“look!” you exclaimed, already scrambling to hold the barcelona shirt up to the camera.
mario chuckled patiently. “i’ve seen it, tesoro.”
“but have you seen the signature today?” you asked very seriously, tilting the shirt to make sure he had the perfect view.
carol laughed from somewhere behind him. “i don’t think signatures move, sweetheart.”
“they don’t,” you agreed with complete confidence. “…but it’s still nice to look at.”
eventually, leah found alessia laughing in the kitchen one evening while you carefully folded the signed shirt for the night.
"this," leah said, leaning against the counter, "is your fault."
"my fault?" alessia gasped with such dramatic effect as she was still trying to compose herself.
"you laughed instead of backing me up." leah pointed out with a smirk as she nicked one of alessia’s biscuits
"i did." alessia agreed quietly.
"and now our daughter thinks she's best friends with alexia putellas."
from the living room, you called proudly, "i am!"
leah closed her eyes. "there it is." alessia couldn't help herself. she laughed, wrapping an arm around leah before looking towards the living room where you were already telling esme the elephant, in great detail, exactly how alexia had smiled at her.
"you know," alessia said with a grin, "it could be worse."
leah raised an eyebrow, alessia smiled. "at least she still wanted england to win."
leah considered it. "...i’ll allow it."
from the living room came one final announcement. "when i grow up..." a dramatic pause. "...i’m going to play with mummy." another pause. "...and then with alexia.”
alessia and leah exchanged a smile. some dreams, they decided, were simply too lovely not to encourage.
You're a starting centre back for Arsenal Women's team, composed, vocal, one of the leaders on the pitch. Fans admire you for your intelligence and calm authority.
Online, though, you have a different kind of voice, a hugely respected writer on Tumblr with an alias, known for deeply emotional, character driven smutty women’s football fan fiction. People in the fandom hang on your updates. You've built a reputation for getting players right, their mannerisms, their dynamics, their quiet moments.
No one knows how close you actually are to the source.
Part 6
Word Count: 9.6K
Over the next few weeks, something gradual starts happening between you and Alexia Putellas, slow inches toward each other, the kind that almost feels accidental until one day you realise it absolutely isn’t.
It starts with little things, coffee appearing beside you before meetings because Alexia remembers exactly how you take it, your phone buzzing late at night with random messages in half English half Spanish, photos of ugly little dogs she sees in the street because apparently they remind her of you somehow.
You still haven’t recovered from that insult, neither has she apologised, then it becomes longer conversations after training, lingering in corridors, walking out together without really discussing it first.
The ease between you grows quietly and the flirting becomes a genuine problem, because once Alexia realises you’ll actually flirt back when she pushes enough she becomes relentless.
One morning you arrive early still half asleep, hoodie pulled up, carrying coffee, Alexia looks up from where she’s sitting immediately, “You look cute tired.”
You nearly walk directly into a wall, “What a horrible thing to say to someone before 9am.”
“But true.” Alexia just smiles into her coffee calmly like she hasn’t completely destabilised your nervous system before breakfast.
Another time you’re stretching after training when she walks past behind you and casually presses her hand against the small of your back to squeeze through a gap that absolutely does not require touching you at all.
You nearly forget how human speech works, Alexia notices and gets smug about it immediately, “You okay?”
You glare at her over your shoulder, “Move along.”
“Interesting reaction.”
“You’re deeply irritating.” Her smile only widens.
Sometimes the flirting is quieter though, more dangerous like the afternoon rain traps you both inside after a meeting, and you end up sitting together by the windows watching water run down the glass while the building empties around you.
You’re talking softly about nothing important when Alexia suddenly says, “You smile more now.”
You glance sideways, “That your professional analysis?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And I like it.” Simple and direct, the words settle warm beneath your ribs for hours afterwards.
Then there are the moments that almost feel too intimate too quickly, like sitting beside each other in comfortable silence while she reads something on her phone and your knee stays pressed lightly against hers the entire time without either of you moving away. Or the night she comes over to your apartment because you mentioned missing proper tea and she arrives carrying three different boxes she found at an international supermarket twenty minutes away.
“You drove twenty minutes for Yorkshire Tea?”
Alexia shrugs like it’s obvious, “You looked sad.”
You stare at her for a second too long after that, because nobody’s really ever cared about the small things like that before and maybe the worst part is Alexia doesn’t even seem fully aware how affectionate she’s becoming.
How she reaches for you naturally now, touches your arm when she laughs, fixes your hoodie strings absentmindedly while talking, looks for you automatically when she enters rooms. One evening the two of you are walking slowly through the city after dinner, shoulders brushing every few steps.
The teasing, the tension, the growing closeness something else slowly settles too, trust not fully formed yet, still careful in places, still fragile occasionally, but real. Alexia starts letting you see pieces of herself she keeps hidden from most people, the exhaustion after difficult matches, the pressure, the loneliness that comes with being treated like a symbol more than a person sometimes.
And you give pieces back too, your anxiety, the overthinking, the way you disappear into yourself when things become too loud emotionally. Neither of you ever formally acknowledge what’s happening that would probably make it too real, but one night while sitting together on your apartment balcony, Alexia steals your hoodie because she’s cold despite repeatedly insisting she wasn’t cold five minutes earlier.
You watch her pull the sleeves over her hands slightly, she catches you looking, “What?”
You shake your head softly, “Nothing.”
Alexia studies your face for a second, “You look at me soft sometimes.”
Your stomach flips instantly, you laugh weakly through it, “That sounds fake deep.”
“No.” Her eyes stay on yours steadily, “I mean it.”
The city hums quietly below you both, warm air drifting through the balcony and suddenly neither of you are smiling anymore, just looking at each other. Your pulse starts climbing slowly, because the flirting stopped feeling harmless a while ago and you both know it now.
Alexia keeps yawning intermittently through whatever story you’re half telling her, tiny ones she clearly thinks she’s hiding. You smile into your mug, “You’re clearly tired.”
She looks over immediately, eyes narrowing slightly in offence, “No,” she says, voice rougher now from exhaustion, “You just boring.”
You laugh softly and gently shove her shoulder with yours, “Come on.” Standing, you collect both mugs from the little table beside the balcony chairs, “It’s late,” you say over your shoulder, “We should go to bed.”
A beat of silence, “We?”
You glance back. Alexia’s looking at you carefully now from where she’s curled into the corner of the chair wearing your hoodie, like that isn’t already causing enough internal problems for you. “Yes.” One eyebrow lifts slowly, you point lightly toward her with the hand holding the mugs, “You’re mad if you think I’m letting you drive home that tired.” Alexia opens her mouth, you cut her off immediately, “Nope. Absolutely not.”
Her mouth twitches slightly, “You very bossy suddenly.”
“You yawned like six times in ten minutes.”
“Maybe dramatic yawns.”
“Alexia.” That gets a tiny smile out of her, you shake your head fondly before nodding back toward the apartment, “I’ll grab you something to sleep in.”
For a second she just watches you quietly, the soft balcony lighting catches warm against her face, you become very aware of exactly what you just offered. Alexia sleeping in your apartment and in your clothes, your pulse gives one hard stupid thud.
Apparently hers does too, because her gaze flicks briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes.
“You sure?” she asks softly this time.
The question feels bigger than just staying over somehow, you hold her gaze for a second then smile slightly, “I’ll be a good girl and keep my hands to myself,” you tease lightly, “I can do that, you know.”
Alexia laughs quietly under her breath, cheeks faintly pink now, “I not sure I trust this.”
“You wound me.”
“You survive.”
You grin despite yourself before disappearing back inside the apartment toward your bedroom, the second you’re out of sight you put the mugs carefully onto the kitchen counter and stare at the wall for a full five seconds trying to regain control of your nervous system, because there is a very beautiful woman currently sitting on your balcony wearing your hoodie about to sleep in your apartment.
For a second, Alexia Putellas just sits there staring at you from your balcony chair, you realise maybe two seconds too late what you actually just implied. Sharing a bed with Alexia Putellas, your heartbeat immediately becomes problematic. You clear your throat lightly while turning toward the kitchen before your own nerves can fully catch up with you.
“It’s not a big deal,” you call back casually. “You’re half asleep.”
Behind you there’s movement then Alexia’s voice, softer now, “You trust me very much.”
You pause briefly by the sink, rinsing the mugs out mostly just to give yourself something to do with your hands, “I do.”
The honesty leaves your mouth before you really think about it silence follows for a second, when you glance back toward the balcony doorway, Alexia’s watching you carefully again.
That look she gets sometimes lately, the one that feels like she’s trying to understand every thought in your head all at once. You dry your hands slowly against a towel, “You can take the bed,” you say, “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Alexia immediately frowns, “No.”
“It’s my flat.”
“And?”
“And you’re the guest.”
“And you are idiot if you think I let you sleep on sofa in your own home.”
You laugh softly under your breath, “There she is.”
“What?”
“Bossy Alexia.”
She smiles slightly. “You like bossy Alexia.”
You point toward her warningly as you start down the hallway, “Stay there.”
Alexia lifts both hands innocently from where she’s still sitting, “I behave perfectly.”
“Historically inaccurate.”
That earns a soft laugh behind you as you disappear into your bedroom the second you’re alone, you exhale hard and drag both hands down your face. You’re not entirely sure your nervous system is built to survive this, you tug open drawers looking for spare clothes she can sleep in. An oversized hoodie, a pair of shorts.
You stare at them for a second too long before muttering to yourself quietly, “Get a grip.”
When you walk back out, Alexia’s moved inside now, leaning against your kitchen counter scrolling absently through her phone, she looks up immediately when you approach.
You hold the clothes out toward her, “Peace offering.”
Alexia takes them slowly, then looks down at the hoodie then back at you, a tiny smile appears, “You give me favourite hoodie?”
You blink, “How do you know it’s my favourite?”
“You wear it constantly.”
The fact she noticed sends warmth straight into your chest, you lean lightly against the opposite counter trying to ignore it, “Well.” You shrug slightly, “Don’t say I never do anything nice for you.”
Alexia’s eyes stay on you for a second longer than necessary, “You do many nice things for me.”
Your pulse stumbles awkwardly, you look away first, rubbing a hand at the back of your neck, “Bathroom’s through there,” you mumble.
Alexia doesn’t move immediately though, you glance back toward her, she’s still watching you, “You really keep hands to yourself?” she asks.
Your eyebrows lift instantly, “You testing me?”
“Maybe.”
You laugh softly in disbelief, “You are genuinely dangerous.”
A slow smile spreads across her face sleepy around the edges now and that combination nearly kills you outright, “You nervous again,” she says quietly.
You shake your head once, “Alexia.”
“Hm?”
“You’re in my apartment wearing my clothes asking questions like that.”
Her smile only deepens slightly “And?”
You stare at her for a long second before huffing a quiet laugh through your nose, “And I’m trying very hard to behave.”
🔴
You end up changing first, mostly because if you stand in the hallway talking to Alexia any longer while she looks at you like that, you’re fairly certain your nervous system will simply shut down completely.
By the time you come back out in an old Arsenal t-shirt and loose shorts, the apartment has gone quieter, softer somehow, bathroom light still glows faintly down the hallway.
You climb into bed with your book mostly because you need something to do with your hands besides think, the duvet feels too warm already. You’re only halfway through rereading the same paragraph for the fourth time when the bathroom door opens.
Your eyes lift automatically and immediately regret it, Alexia walks out wearing your clothes, your hoodie hangs slightly oversized on her frame, sleeves pushed up messily to her forearms, dark hair still faintly damp from washing her face.
She looks, you physically stop your own thought process there, dangerous that’s what she looks.
Alexia notices your staring instantly of course, a slow sleepy smile appears, “You read same page for long time.”
You blink once looking sharply back down at your book, “I’m reading perfectly fine actually.”
“Hm.”
You hear her moving closer across the room, the mattress dips a second later as she climbs carefully into the other side of the bed. Your entire body immediately becomes hyperaware of another person beside you, heat, movement.
You keep your eyes aggressively fixed on your book, Alexia shifts onto her side beside you, one arm tucked beneath the pillow watching you openly.
You can feel it without even looking, “You always this tense?” she says
“I’m not tense.”
“You holding book like survival equipment.”
You glance over finally, Alexia’s eyes are warm with amusement now, sleepy too, “You are in my bed,” you remind her quietly.
“Yes.”
“In my clothes.”
“Yes.”
“And you keep staring at me.”
“I enjoy this.”
You drop your head back briefly against the headboard with a soft groan, “This is psychological warfare.”
Alexia laughs quietly beside you the sound settles warm through the room, eventually you manage to focus back on the book for at least a few minutes or pretend to.
Beside you, Alexia grows quieter gradually, the kind of tired quiet where movements slow and breathing softens at one point you glance sideways again and find her already looking at you.
Neither of you speak immediately, "What?”
Alexia’s gaze flicks briefly across your face, “You look peaceful here.”
Your chest tightens unexpectedly, because peaceful is not a word anybody’s used for you in a long time. You look down at the pages in your hands again, “Don’t spread that around. Ruins my image.”
Alexia smiles faintly, “Too late.”
Silence settles again, intimate in a way that sneaks up on you, after another minute Alexia shifts slightly closer beneath the duvet, not touching just nearer.
Your pulse notices immediately, “You know,” she says softly into the dim room, “when I first meet you I think maybe you arrogant little defender.”
You snort quietly, “That’s harsh.”
“But now…” You glance toward her again, Alexia’s eyes stay on yours steadily, “Now I think maybe you just lonely sometimes.”
The words hit with terrifying accuracy, you swallow once, then try for humour because that’s safer, “You’re getting far too emotionally observant for my liking.”
Alexia only smiles softly and before you can think of something else to say she reaches over slowly and takes the book from your hands.
You blink, “What are you doing?”
“You not reading.”
“I absolutely was.”
“You read same sentence six times.”
“That feels statistically unlikely.”
Alexia places the book carefully onto the bedside table before settling back against the pillow again, then she looks at you calmly, “Sleep.”
You stare at her for a second, then laugh softly under your breath, “You’re very bossy in my home.”
“Yes.”
“And weirdly you keep getting away with it.”
That earns another small sleepy smile, the room falls quieter after that, you turn onto your side eventually, facing away mostly because facing toward her feels like a genuinely terrible idea.
A few minutes pass, softly behind you, “You still trying behave?”
Your eyes close immediately, “Alexia,” you warn weakly.
You hear her laugh quietly into the dark and you fall asleep smiling.
🔴
Morning arrives slowly, soft winter light spills through the gaps in your curtains, pale gold stretching across the sheets and bedroom floor.
For a few seconds you stay half asleep, warm and comfortable, aware only vaguely that something feels different, there's a weight. A slow blink and suddenly your brain catches up all at once, Alexia. Your eyes open immediately, very carefully, you glance downward.
At some point during the night, Alexia Putellas has moved closer in her sleep, much closer, one arm loosely draped across your waist beneath the duvet, face tucked near your shoulder, one leg tangled lightly with yours.
Your nervous system short circuits instantly, because Alexia Putellas is cuddling you unconsciously in your bed wearing your hoodie. You stare at the ceiling for a solid ten seconds trying to regulate your heartbeat before it wakes her up through sheer force alone.
The worst part is you don’t want to move at all, she’s warm, soft, still deeply asleep by the steady rhythm of her breathing against your shoulder. Something frighteningly tender settles low beneath your ribs, you shift slightly purely because your arm is starting to go numb.
Immediately Alexia makes a tiny sleepy noise and tightens her hold around your waist instinctively, your soul leaves your body, you squeeze your eyes shut briefly.
This is absurd, you are a grown woman, an international footballer and yet somehow reduced to complete emotional collapse because a beautiful Spanish midfielder is holding you in her sleep.
A quiet groan muffles softly against your shoulder then Alexia shifts slightly, brows faintly furrowing as she slowly starts waking up. You freeze instantly her breathing changes first slower and more aware.
Then finally her eyes blink open lazily against your shoulder, for a second she just stays there, still wrapped around you then realisation gradually reaches her too. You physically feel the moment it does, Alexia stills completely, neither of you move.
Then slowly, very slowly, Alexia lifts her head slightly to look at you, her hair is messy, sleep creased faintly across one cheek and somehow she still looks unfairly beautiful.
Your throat feels dry immediately, “Morning,” you say softly.
Alexia blinks once, then again, still clearly buffering mentally, “Hola.”
Her voice is rough with sleep, it nearly kills you, then suddenly awareness fully crashes into her expression. Her eyes widen slightly, because yes she is still fully wrapped around you, one arm around your waist bodies tangled together beneath the duvet.
Alexia pulls back slightly almost immediately, “Sorry.”
The apology comes quick and genuinely flustered, you push yourself up onto one elbow slightly, “No no, it’s okay.”
Alexia sits up slowly beside you now, hair falling messily into her face as she rubs tiredly at her eyes, pink slowly creeps into her cheeks. You stare for a second too long before catching yourself.
Your mouth twitches faintly, “You cuddle apparently.”
Alexia groans quietly and drops her face into her hands, “Oh my god.”
You laugh softly beside her, “I didn’t realise you embarrassed this easily.”
“I not embarrassed.”
“You’re literally hiding.”
“I am resting eyes.”
“That excuse feels weak.”
Alexia peeks at you through her fingers finally and the second she sees your smile her own appears automatically too, it was soft sleepy and real, you are in serious trouble.
Then her eyes flick downward briefly, toward your waist, where her hand had been, where your abs are peaking out from where your shirt had been pushed up, your pulse immediately stutters again.
Alexia notices, of course she does, a tiny smile pulls slowly at the corner of her mouth, “You not move away.”
Your ears burn instantly, “Well,” you mutter. “You seemed comfortable.”
“Hm.”
That sound absolutely should not affect you the way it does. You shove a hand through your hair roughly before climbing out of bed mostly because remaining beside her right now feels increasingly dangerous, “I’m making coffee.”
Alexia watches openly as you move toward the bedroom door, still sitting in your bed, still wearing your hoodie and looking entirely too pleased with herself suddenly, “You smile in morning too.”
You pause briefly in the doorway without turning around, “Coffee first, Putellas.” Her laugh follows you down the hallway anyway.
🔴
The evening had been soft comfortable in the way things had slowly become between you and Alexia lately. She’s stretched along one end of your sofa watching some Spanish drama you can barely follow beyond tone and facial expressions.
You’re half curled into the opposite corner scrolling mindlessly through your phone, occasionally glancing up whenever Alexia mutters commentary under her breath at the television.
“Can I ask question?”
You hum absently without looking up, “Sure.”
A small pause, “You tell your friends we spend time together?”
You answer automatically, “No.” Still not looking up from your screen.
The silence that follows feels strange immediately, “That what I afraid of.”
Your brows pull together, you look over properly now, Alexia’s eyes stay fixed on the television but her posture has gone subtly tense. Your phone lowers slowly into your lap, “What?”
Now she looks at you carefully, like she’s trying to gauge your reaction before you’ve even fully had one.
You stare at her for a second, then lock your phone entirely and set it down, “I thought that’s what you’d want to hear,” you say slowly. “After… well, you know. The whole fanfiction thing.”
Alexia’s expression shifts slightly confused almost, “Why you think this?”
You exhale quietly and stand, suddenly too restless to stay sitting down, “I just want you to trust me, Alexia.”
You move toward the kitchen mostly because you need space from the sudden tight feeling in your chest.
“Writing about you is one thing,” you continue, opening the fridge without even knowing what you’re looking for, “but telling people what you say to me in private are two very different things.”
Behind you, the television volume lowers, “This why you no kiss me.”
You turn immediately, abrupt enough your shoulder nearly clips the fridge door, “What?”
The word comes out softer than you intended, Alexia’s watching you steadily from the sofa now, “You think I no trust you.”
A disbelieving laugh leaves you before you can stop it, “Well when you have said those exact words to me,” you reply sharply, “yeah.”
Alexia sits forward slightly, forearms braced on her knees, “I been testing you.”
The room goes very still, your face tightens immediately, “What?”
Her accent thickens slightly as she continues carefully, “I tell you things. Lies sometimes.” She gestures vaguely. “Then somebody ask you later. See if you say.”
You stare at her, actually stare waiting for the punchline that never comes, your whole face scrunches in disbelief, “That’s completely and utterly fucked up.”
Alexia flinches slightly at your tone, “No”
“No, Alexia, seriously what the fuck?”
“I need know if I trust”
“You tested me?” Your voice rises sharply now despite yourself.
Alexia stands immediately too, “Y/N—”
“You got people to interrogate to me about you to see if I'd gossip?”
“It not interrogation”
“Then what exactly was it?”
Alexia’s frustration starts bleeding through now too, “You not understand how difficult this is for me!”
You laugh harshly, “Oh I understand perfectly actually.”
“No”
“You thought I was going to run around telling people private things about you?”
“You write stories online!” The sentence lands hard you physically recoil slightly like she slapped you, Alexia realises immediately her face shifts, “Not what I mean”
“Then explain it better.”
“I try!”
“No, you’re trying to justify something insane!”
Alexia throws a frustrated hand through her hair, “You no understand because you not me!”
“And you don’t understand because you never gave me a fucking chance!”
Your voice cracks loudly through the apartment, Alexia visibly startles, “Y/N no shout,” she says quickly, accent suddenly thicker again. “I no understand when you shout.”
But you’re too hurt now to stop immediately, “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to make sure you felt safe with me?”
Alexia’s brows pull together trying to follow your faster English, you drag both hands through your hair roughly, pacing now.
“I’ve been so fucking careful with you because I knew the fanfiction thing complicated everything and the whole time you’re setting little traps to see if I fail them?”
“I not trap you”
“You literally lied to me to test me!”
“I was scared!”
“So was I!”
That finally quiets the room the words echo between you both Alexia stills completely, your chest rises hard with breathing now.
You shake your head once slowly, “I let you into my life,” you say quieter now, voice rough, “Into my home.”
Alexia’s expression softens instantly, “Y/N…”
“And all this time you’re sitting there wondering if I’m secretly using you for notes on tumblr”
“No.” She steps forward slightly, “Not using.”
“Then what?”
She struggles for the words now, you can see it happening in real time, the frustration, the panic, the language barrier crashing directly into emotion. “I think…” She presses a hand briefly against her chest searching desperately for English. “I think maybe you know how make people feel safe. And maybe…” Her eyes lift to yours finally. “Maybe that dangerous for me.”
Your anger falters slightly at that only slightly, because underneath everything else, you can hear the honesty in it.
Alexia swallows hard, “I start trust you too much too soon maybe.”
The apartment goes quiet again, you stare at her for a long second at the tension in her shoulders. The genuine fear sitting underneath all of this and somehow that almost makes it worse, because she didn’t do this to hurt you.
You laugh once softly through your nose, humourless, “In trying to see if you could trust me,” you say quietly, “you broke my trust in you.”
The sentence visibly lands hard, Alexia’s face falls immediately, Alexia’s face falls so visibly it almost hurts to look at, but right now you’re too angry to soften toward it.
You shake your head slowly, pacing once across the living room before stopping beside the kitchen counter, “Just when I thought I could make a home here,” you say quietly, voice unsteady now despite your efforts to control it, “be happy…” Alexia stays completely still across from you, you laugh once bitterly through your nose, “I find out you’ve all just been laughing at me behind my back.”
“No”
“I’ve told you things,” you cut across sharply, “that I don’t tell just anyone.” Your chest aches suddenly, because that’s the real wound underneath all of it the fact you’d started letting yourself feel safe with her. “I trusted you.”
Alexia’s eyes shine immediately, “We not laugh at you.”
You shake your head again, “How am I supposed to know that?”
“I promise”
“You got people involved, Alexia.” Her face tightens instantly at that because she knows you’re right.
You rub both hands hard across your face before turning abruptly toward the hallway, you need air anything that isn’t this apartment suddenly feeling ruined around you.
You snatch your keys from the little table near the door, behind you Alexia’s voice comes quick and panicked now, “Where you going?”
“Out.”
“But this your place?”
You let out another hollow laugh while yanking the door open, “Yeah,” you say tightly. “Well that’s how angry I am.”
“Y/N wait—” But you’re already gone. The apartment door slams hard enough behind you to rattle the hallway walls.
🔴
Barcelona at night blurs around you in streaks of orange and white, you drive with no real destination, just movement, hands clenched too tightly around the steering wheel.
The anger keeps shifting shape every few minutes, fury, then hurt, then something uglier underneath both, because the worst part is you understand why she did it. You understand what it must’ve felt like finding out somebody had written about you for years online.
Understand why trust wouldn’t come easy after that, but god, not like this, not testing you. Not setting traps while looking you in the eyes and pretending things were real.
Your jaw tightens painfully, the city eventually thins around you as you drive further out along the coast road, dark sea stretching beside you beneath the night sky.
You pull over abruptly near a quiet overlook and kill the engine silence crashes into the car immediately, only distant waves somewhere below.
Your forehead drops briefly against the steering wheel and the anger fractures enough for the grief underneath it to surface properly, because you really had started building something here. Not just at the club, but you thought with her also.
You’d let yourself believe maybe this city could become home instead of just somewhere Arsenal sent you to disappear.
You’d let yourself want things again, soft things, dangerous things, your phone buzzes against the passenger seat. You already know who it is before looking, Alexia, another buzz immediately after, then another.
You stare at the screen lighting up in the darkness.
Alexia:
please answer
Alexia:
i sorry
Alexia:
i not mean hurt you
You lock the phone without replying and lean back heavily into the seat instead, staring blankly out toward the black water, for the first time since arriving in Barcelona you feel lonely again.
You don’t even notice someone approaching the car at first, too busy staring blankly out toward the sea, too deep inside your own head. The knock against the driver’s side window startles you enough your shoulders tense immediately.
Your head turns sharply, an older woman stands outside beside the car, expression gentle beneath the glow of the streetlamp overhead.
You lower the window slightly, exhaustion already sitting too heavily in your chest to really deal with being recognised right now, “Hola…” she says softly. “Y/N, right?”
You nod once cautiously, not rude. the woman’s face softens immediately like she recognises something in your expression.
Then she places a hand lightly against her chest, “Eli Segura,” she says warmly. “Alexia’s mami.”
Your stomach drops instantly, oh, that’s why she looked familiar, you can see Alexia in her now, especially around the eyes. For one horrible second you wonder if Alexia called her had told her all about you, "Everything okay, my dear?”
You look away toward the dark water briefly, not answering.
Eli studies you for a second longer before speaking again, softer this time, “Home sick?”
Something in the question nearly undoes you unexpectedly but you still, you don’t answer, Eli doesn’t push.
Instead she points lightly over her shoulder toward the quiet little street behind her, “I live just over road,” she says. “Do you want cup of tea?”
You probably should say no. You absolutely should say no. Instead somehow a few minutes later you’re following Alexia Putellas’ mother across the road and into her house.
The home is modest, warm in feeling, nothing remotely extravagant despite her daughter being arguably the biggest name in women’s football.
Family photos line shelves and walls, little bits of Barcelona scattered naturally through the space without feeling staged.
It smells faintly of olive oil and something baked earlier in the evening, Eli chatters softly while leading you toward the kitchen, “Alexia talks about you,” she says casually over her shoulder, “She tells me what good player you are.”
Your chest tightens slightly, you don’t know what to do with that information right now. You glance around quietly while following her, there’s something grounding about the house, something deeply normal.
Eli starts opening cupboards in the kitchen with increasing determination, “Now where did I put them…” she mutters.
You hover awkwardly near the little wooden table before eventually sitting down, a red and white checkered tablecloth covers it, tiny plants sit on the windowsill above the sink.
It feels like somebody’s actual home in a way footballers’ houses sometimes don’t, Eli continues rummaging through cupboards, “Keira used to come over with Lucy,” she says suddenly, then glances back toward you. “Kiera Walsh and Lucy Bronze,” she clarifies helpfully.
You nod faintly with a small polite smile.
“I buy tea for them.” She continues searching, “English tea. Strong tea.” She points vaguely into a cupboard, “Somewhere.”
Despite yourself, your mouth twitches slightly.
Eli notices immediately, “Ah!” She points triumphantly, “You smile little now.”
You huff quietly through your nose, “That’s generous.”
Eli finally locates the tea bags with visible satisfaction, “It shame it not work out between them,” she says conversationally while filling the kettle.
You lean back slightly in the chair, “Yeah.”
The kitchen settles into quiet for a minute just the sound of the kettle filling, then Eli turns toward you again, gentleness settling into her expression.
“Sugar?”
You nod faintly, “Yes please.”
“Good.” She points at you with the spoon, “English people always want sugar. Alexia drinks coffee like little villain. Very dark. No joy.”
A quiet laugh escapes you before you can stop it, Eli smiles immediately like she’s won something, she slides the mug toward you before sitting opposite at the little table.
The tea is genuinely proper English tea, strong enough to fix emotional damage. You wrap both hands around the mug automatically, letting the warmth settle into your palms.
For a while the conversation stays comfortably random, Eli asks about Barcelona, about whether you’ve found a supermarket you like yet.
You admit you got hopelessly lost walking home from training last week and accidentally ended up near the beach for an hour.
Eli laughs loudly at that, “You have no Barcelona survival instincts yet.”
“Clearly.”
“You need old lady GPS.”
You smile into your tea, “I think that’s just called a mother.”
Eli points at you immediately, “Exactly.”
The kitchen settles warmly around you both, a football match playing quietly somewhere from another room. You find yourself relaxing despite everything, just slightly.
Eli talks easily, about neighbours, about how terrible Barcelona traffic becomes during tourist season.
About how when Alexia was little she used to refuse naps because she thought sleeping meant she’d miss something important.
“That checks out actually,” you mumble into your mug.
Eli laughs, “She still terrible sleeper.”
You nod before you can stop yourself, “I know.”
The words slip out naturally, both of you pause slightly afterward, Eli’s expression softens around the edges, but she doesn’t mention it.
Instead she leans back slightly in her chair, “You know,” she says conversationally, “when Alexia first go away for football…” She gestures vaguely, “Big football. Not little girl football.” A tiny smile, “She cry every night first month.”
Your brows lift immediately, “No way.”
Eli nods seriously, “Every night.” Then she points at you, “Very stubborn even then though. She call me pretending she not crying.” Eli deepens her voice theatrically. “‘Hola Mami. Everything perfect.’” She rolls her eyes affectionately, “Meanwhile sounding like tiny sad pirate.”
You laugh properly at that warm and surprised out of you, you shake your head softly into your tea, “She doesn’t seem like someone who’d admit struggling.”
“No.” Eli’s expression turns knowing. “She likes carry things alone.”
Something about the sentence presses quietly against your chest, because you know that already, you’ve seen it. The way Alexia keeps herself tightly controlled even emotionally, the way vulnerability seems to physically cost her something.
Eli studies you over the rim of her mug for a second, “You do same thing.”
You blink caught off guard, “I don’t think so.”
Eli gives you a look that says she absolutely disagrees, “My dear,” she says softly, “you drove alone at night to sit by sea looking like world ending.”
You glance down at your tea with a faint grimace, “When you say it out loud it sounds dramatic.”
“It was dramatic.” Eli waves a biscuit at you, “Very footballer.”
You snort quietly, “I think I’m just tired.”
Eli’s face softens immediately again, “Yes.” She says it so gently it nearly hurts, “I think maybe you are very tired.”
The lump in your throat arrives suddenly enough you have to look away toward the little kitchen window, because that’s exactly it.
You are tired, tired of proving yourself, of losing homes, of trying to hold yourself together through every change like football hasn’t been slowly pulling pieces out of you for months now.
Eli pretends not to notice your eyes getting suspiciously bright, instead she reaches over and pushes the plate of biscuits closer to you, “Eat,” she orders lightly. “You too skinny for this much emotional suffering.”
A startled laugh breaks out of you, across the table, Eli smiles softly into her tea like that was exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for.
"Now, are you going to tell me what's troubling you so much"
You stare down into your tea instead of at her, for a second you consider brushing it off entirely. Saying it’s nothing, that you’re just tired, but something about this kitchen makes honesty feel easier somehow, maybe because Eli has the same quiet steadiness Alexia has underneath all the sharp edges.
You exhale slowly, “I probably shouldn’t…” You rub your thumb along the side of the mug. “It’s um…” A small grimace pulls at your mouth. “Something with Alexia.”
Eli leans back slightly in her chair, “She hurt you?”
The directness catches you off guard slightly, you hesitate, then nod once, Eli’s face immediately tightens, not angry exactly, “Mhm.”
You look away quickly, “It’s complicated.”
“Everything with my daughter complicated.” That earns the smallest huff of laughter from you, Eli points at you instantly, “See? Already true.”
Your smile fades again after a second though, because the ache is still sitting there heavily underneath everything. “She…” You pause, trying to figure out how to explain something that even sounds ridiculous aloud, “She didn’t trust me.”
Eli goes still quietly across from you.
You continue before you lose the nerve, “She was testing me.”
A crease forms between Eli’s brows, “Testing?”
You nod slowly, “She told me tonight she’d been making up little lies sometimes. Then getting people to ask me about them later to see if I repeated things.”
Eli stares at you for a second, then mutters something sharp and disapproving in Catalan under her breath.
You don’t understand the words, the tone says enough, “She thought because of the fanfiction thing maybe…” Your throat tightens slightly. “Maybe I couldn’t separate private things from fiction.”
Eli exhales heavily through her nose and leans back in her chair, “Oh, Alexia.” Not defensive, more tired like this is an old flaw she recognises immediately.
“She says she was scared,” you admit quietly, “And honestly… I understand why she would be.” Your shoulders lift weakly, “But it still hurt.”
“Of course hurt.”
You finally look up at her then, “She made me feel like every conversation we’ve had was secretly being judged afterward.” Eli nods slowly, listening carefully. You swallow hard, “I’ve spent months trying to make sure she felt safe around me.” Your eyes drop back to the mug again. “And the whole time she was waiting for me to fail some test I didn’t even know I was taking.”
Eli sighs softly, “My daughter…” She shakes her head slightly. “She trust very deeply.” A pause, “But very slowly.”
You huff quietly, “I gathered that.”
Eli smiles faintly for a second before it fades again, “When Alexia loves people…” She taps lightly against the table. “She becomes afraid.” Your chest tightens immediately at the word loves, Eli notices your reaction instantly, “Not only romantic,” she says gently, sparing you slightly, “People she lets close. She lose her father very young,” Eli says quietly after a moment. “After that…” She shrugs faintly. “Trust becomes complicated for her. She likes certainty,” Eli continues. “Control. Knowing things before they hurt her.”
Your jaw tightens because yes, that sounds exactly like Alexia.
“And when she cannot control feelings…” Eli gives you a meaningful little look. “She becomes little stupid sometimes.”
That drags another reluctant smile from you, “She definitely managed the stupid part.”
Eli laughs softly into her tea, “Yes. Then her expression gentles again, “But hurting you was not her intention.”
“I know.”
“And that maybe make it worse.”
You look at her sharply because that’s exactly it, if Alexia had been cruel deliberately, maybe this would feel cleaner somehow.
Instead it just feels sad and messy, Eli watches you carefully for a second before speaking again, “You know what Alexia biggest problem is?” You raise an eyebrow slightly. “She thinks trust is something you prove once.” Eli taps lightly against the table again. “Like passing exam.” She shakes her head. “But trust is choosing somebody again and again.”
The sentence settles heavily into the quiet kitchen, you stare down at your tea for a long moment afterward, “I really liked her.”
Eli’s face softens immediately, “Oh, my dear.”
You sigh quietly and stare down into your tea again, the warmth has started fading from the mug now, “But I’m doubting if any of it was even real.”
Eli’s brows pull together softly, “What mean?”
You swallow once. “How do I know the person I feel for was… her?” Your fingers tighten slightly around the mug. “The things she’d tell me… was that actually her or part of the test?”
The words sound worse once they’re out loud, Eli goes very still across from you.
You shake your head faintly before continuing, “She’d ask me things sometimes. Tell me things.” Your eyes stay fixed downward, “And now I’m sitting here wondering if every vulnerable conversation was actually calculated.” The lump in your throat thickens painfully. “Like was she genuinely opening up to me…” You laugh softly through your nose, humourless. “Or was she just seeing what I’d do with the information?”
Eli watches you carefully for a long moment, slowly she reaches across the little table and places her hand gently over yours, “My dear,” she says softly, “Alexia not smart enough for this much manipulation.”
That startles a laugh out of you unexpectedly Eli squeezes your hand lightly.
“She complicated, yes. Defensive, yes. But fake?” She shakes her head immediately. “No.”
You look down again, “She made me feel stupid tonight.”
“No.” Eli’s voice firms slightly. “She make mistake tonight. Big difference.”
You stare silently at the tablecloth, Eli leans back slightly again, studying you with that same calm gentleness.
“You know how I know feelings real?”
You glance up tiredly, “How?”
“She bring you to me without even knowing.”
Your brows knit slightly, “What?”
Eli gestures vaguely toward the window, toward the street outside, “She drive past here all the time when upset.” A small shrug, “Since she was girl.” Her eyes soften. “Tonight you come here too.”
Something shifts painfully in your chest at that, because you hadn’t even realised or knew this was where her mother live, you just drove and ended up here somehow.
“When Alexia likes somebody…” A tiny smile tugs at her mouth. “Whole family knows.”
You huff quietly, “I’m not sure that’s reassuring.”
“It should be. We all know about you”
You lean back slightly in the chair, exhaustion suddenly sitting heavily in your bones again. “She looked genuinely upset,” you admit quietly after a moment, “And that’s what’s annoying.”
Eli smiles knowingly, “Yes. Easier if she asshole.”
“Exactly.”
“But unfortunately…” Eli lifts one shoulder lightly. “My daughter is idiot. Not asshole.”
That gets another reluctant laugh from you, you rub tiredly at your face afterward, “I just…” Your voice softens. “I finally started feeling settled here.” The vulnerability in the sentence makes your chest ache immediately afterward, because it’s bigger than Alexia and one fight.
It’s Arsenal. London. Losing a home once already. You don’t think you could survive losing another one this quickly, Eli seems to understand that without you explaining, “You afraid this means you not belong here.”
You blink at her, then nod once silently.
Eli’s expression gentles even further somehow, “My dear,” she says softly, “one difficult night with emotionally constipated footballer does not mean Barcelona stop being home for you.”
A startled laugh escapes you, “Emotionally constipated?”
Eli waves one hand dismissively, “She get it from father.” Then she points toward you. “And maybe you a little too.”
You open your mouth to deny it then close it again, because unfortunately she’s right.
Eli smiles triumphantly into her tea, “Ah. See? Honest now.”
The quiet kitchen settles again for a moment then headlights sweep briefly across the little kitchen window. A second later a car door shuts outside.
Eli glances automatically toward the front of the house, “That be Alexia.”
Your stomach drops instantly, of course it is, you let out a quiet breath through your nose and lean back slightly in the chair, “Well,” you mutter dryly, “me being here doesn’t really help my case.”
Eli looks back at you with faint confusion, “What case?”
“The whole not being obsessed with your daughter for private information thing.”
That earns a full laugh from Eli, “Oh my god,” she says, still laughing slightly. “You young people are exhausting.”
You smile tiredly into your mug, “She already thinks I’m emotionally dangerous apparently.”
Eli waves a dismissive hand, “She thinks everybody emotionally dangerous.”
You suddenly become hyper aware of yourself sitting in Alexia Putellas’ childhood kitchen at nearly midnight drinking tea with her mother after storming out of an argument.
Objectively its an insane situation.
Your pulse starts climbing again automatically, “I should probably go.”
Before you can answer, keys rattle faintly near the front door, then footsteps the familiar sound of someone dropping them on the table near the entrance.
Your chest tightens involuntarily at the recognition of it, Eli watches your face carefully for a second before speaking softly.
“She been driving around too, I think.”
The sentence lands quietly between you somehow that hurts more than if Alexia had just gone home angry. You hear muffled movement in the hallway then Alexia’s tired voice faintly from another room, “Mami?”
Eli answers casually without taking her eyes off you, “In kitchen.”
Footsteps approach, your pulse is suddenly deafening and a second later Alexia Putellas appears in the kitchen doorway.
She stops dead, still in your clothes from earlier, hair slightly messy from repeatedly dragging her hands through it her eyes immediately finding yours, shock flashes across her face first.
Then relief so raw and visible it nearly knocks the breath out of you, “Y/N.”
The way she says your name makes you look away first, because suddenly seeing her upset too makes maintaining your anger significantly harder than it was twenty minutes ago.
Eli stands calmly from the table, “I make more tea,” she announces to absolutely nobody.
Then very deliberately disappears from the kitchen and the kitchen falls painfully quiet after Eli disappears again.
You keep your eyes fixed stubbornly on your mug, Alexia stays near the doorway for a second too long, like she isn’t entirely sure she’s allowed any closer. Neither of you speaks.
The tension sits thick and awkward between you now just sad you can feel Alexia looking at you though. Like she’s trying to figure out whether you’re about to leave again.
A cupboard opens somewhere just outside the kitchen, “Madre de dios…”
The frustrated mutter makes you glance up instinctively.
Eli appears again a second later carrying a packet of biscuits she apparently fought the cupboard for personally, “I swear this kitchen rearrange itself at night,” she complains dramatically while setting them down.
Neither you nor Alexia respond, Eli pauses looks between you both then sighs loudly, “Oh, this terrible.”
Your mouth twitches despite yourself, Alexia finally moves further into the kitchen quietly, leaning against the counter opposite you, still giving you space.
Eli points immediately between you both, “You two act like divorced people in bad television drama.”
“Mami,” Alexia warns softly.
“No, no.” Eli waves a hand dismissively, “I fix atmosphere.”
You stare into your tea to hide the faint smile threatening, Eli notices anyway, “Aha,” she says triumphantly, “English defender still alive.”
Alexia’s eyes flick toward you immediately at that, something softer enters her expression seeing the almost smile.
Eli starts bustling around the kitchen unnecessarily now purely to fill the silence, “You know,” she says conversationally while opening the fridge, “Alexia once cry because fish die.”
Alexia straightens instantly, “Mami.”
“She have funeral.”
You choke slightly on your tea, Alexia closes her eyes briefly in visible suffering, “I was six.”
“She make little speech.”
“Oh my god.”
Eli points toward her daughter with complete delight, “Very emotional speech.”
You’re fully smiling now, Alexia notices immediately, for the first time since the argument, the tension around her shoulders eases slightly too.
“She also used to bite people,” Eli continues helpfully.
“Mami!”
“When angry.”
You laugh quietly, “Honestly that one I believe.”
Alexia points accusingly toward you, “You are supposed support me here.”
“I’m gathering valuable character references.”
“That sound exactly like fanfiction writer thing to say.”
The second the words leave her mouth the room stills immediately and Alexia’s face falls.
Your smile disappears again automatically and across the kitchen Eli closes her eyes briefly like someone witnessing a small car accident in real time.
“Fantastic,” she mutters softly in Spanish.
Alexia pushes away from the counter instantly, “No. I not mean”
“It’s fine.” But your voice closes up again anyway.
You stare back down at the mug in your hands, the hurt rushing back so quickly it almost embarrasses you.
Alexia looks devastated immediately, “Y/N…”
Eli intervenes before either of you can spiral again, “So,” she announces loudly. “Who hungry?” Neither of you answers, Eli points sharply, “No. I refuse this sadness in my kitchen.” She opens a cupboard aggressively, “I make tortilla.”
“Mami, it midnight.”
“And?” Eli shrugs, “Painful emotional conversations need potatoes.”
The kitchen slowly fills with the smell of olive oil and potatoes. Eli moves around with the confidence of somebody who’s cooked the same dish a thousand times before, muttering softly to herself in Catalan while cracking eggs into a bowl.
You sit quietly at the table, Alexia leans against the counter nearby, still too tense and glancing toward you every few seconds like she’s checking you haven’t disappeared again.
Eli notices all of it, “You know,” she says while whisking eggs aggressively, “both of you are exhausting.”
Neither of you respond, Eli points the whisk toward Alexia first.
“You.” Her eyebrows lift sharply, “Very stupid.”
“Mami…”
“No.” She points again, “You do not test people like FBI investigation.”
Alexia exhales quietly through her nose, “I was trying protect myself.”
“And instead hurt somebody.” Alexia goes silent, Eli softens slightly but not much, “You cannot ask honesty from person while secretly checking if they fail.”
You glance down at the table automatically, because hearing somebody else say it so plainly makes the ache flare all over again.
Eli notices that too, immediately her attention swings toward you now, “And you.”
Your eyebrows lift slightly, “You run away.”
You blink, “What?”
“You hear something painful and immediately leave.” She gestures with the whisk dramatically, “Very footballer behaviour.”
“I was angry.”
“Yes.” Eli nods firmly, “And hurt. But still.” She points toward the front door, “You disappear.”
You open your mouth then close it again, because annoyingly she’s not wrong either.
Eli resumes cooking with the energy of a woman fully committed to emotionally rehabilitating two deeply avoidant athletes against their will.
“You both do same thing,” she continues. “When scared, you close.” She folds her arms briefly, “Alexia becomes suspicious. You become distant.”
Neither of you argue again because unfortunately its true.
Eli sighs heavily, “Honestly it miracle either of you tell feelings at all.”
Alexia mutters something in Catalan under her breath.
Eli immediately points the spatula at her, “I hear that.” That almost gets a smile out of you again, “You like each other very much,” she says matter of factly.
Your entire body immediately stiffens.
“Mami.”
“No, enough.” Eli shakes her head. “I am old. I see things.”
Alexia rubs tiredly at her forehead, you stare very hard at the tablecloth.
Eli continues completely undeterred, “One of you writes emotional football romance on internet.” She points vaguely toward you. “Other one drives around city crying and testing loyalty like medieval knight.” Then she throws her hands into the air. “And somehow neither capable of simple conversation.”
You choke softly on air, Alexia groans in visible humiliation, “Mami please.”
Eli ignores her completely, “You know what problem is?” she asks while sliding potatoes into the pan.
Neither of you answer.
“You both think trust means never getting hurt.” She shakes her head, “Impossible.”
The sizzling pan fills the brief silence afterward.
Then more quietly, “Trust means believing somebody care even when they hurt you.”
Alexia looks down immediately, your chest tightens painfully, because despite everything you do believe Alexia cares. That’s what makes this so hard.
Eli glances between you both and sighs dramatically again, “Also,” she adds, “you both terrible communicators.”
Alexia looks mildly offended, “I communicate.”
“You absolutely do not,” Eli replies instantly.
You snort unexpectedly into your tea, Alexia points accusingly at you, “Do not encourage her.”
Eli beams immediately, “Ah, there. Better.” Eli flips the tortilla expertly before looking between you both one final time, “No more secret tests,” she tells Alexia firmly.
Alexia nods quietly.
Then Eli looks toward you, “And no more dramatic nighttime ocean exile.”
You huff a laugh through your nose, “No promises.”
Eli points the spatula at you warningly, “English sarcasm not save you here.”
Eli still points the spatula directly at you from across the kitchen, “You Barça,” she says firmly. “You family now. I take no back chat.”
You blink at her, then laugh softly in disbelief, “That’s how this works?”
“Yes.”
“She’s recruited you,” Alexia mutters under her breath from beside the counter.
Eli ignores her instantly, “You come into my house sad, I feed you,” She shrugs one shoulder like this is legally binding. “Family.”
Something in your chest catches unexpectedly hard at the word family, you look down quickly before either of them notices how much that affects you.
Unfortunately Eli notices absolutely everything her expression softens immediately, “There,” she says quietly, pointing the spatula again. “That face. That why you no allowed disappear alone tonight.”
You huff quietly through your nose, “This is emotional blackmail.”
“Yes.”
“At least she’s honest,” Alexia murmurs.
Eli gasps dramatically, “Excuse me? You say this after secret psychological experiments?”
Alexia drags a hand over her face in suffering, “Mami, please stop calling it that.”
“What else I call it?” Eli demands. “You run loyalty test like CIA agent.”
Your shoulders shake with another reluctant laugh, Alexia points toward you accusingly, “You enjoying this far too much now.”
“A little bit.”
She narrows her eyes slightly, “You very annoying when relaxed.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
Eli beams between you both like she’s personally repaired international relations, “Much better.”
The tortilla finishes cooking a minute later and Eli starts cutting slices onto plates like feeding the two of you is now a sacred maternal mission.
You accept yours quietly when she places it down in front of you, “Thank you.”
Eli pats your shoulder as she passes, “You too skinny.”
Alexia immediately nods, “Yes.”
You stare at her in betrayal, “Oh, suddenly you agree with her?”
“You are impossible to get to eat properly,” Alexia replies without hesitation.
“You’ve known me like three months.”
“And already stressful.”
Eli laughs loudly while sitting down herself finally, Alexia quietly nudges her knee against yours beneath the table as she sits down, but you don’t move away.
Alexia stays quieter than usual beside you, you notice it immediately.
She answers when Eli speaks to her, occasionally adds something dry under her breath toward you, but mostly she seems content just listening and watching. Probably still trying to figure out exactly how angry you are.
Eli, meanwhile, decides entirely on her own that tonight is apparently about learning everything possible about you.
“So,” she says while cutting another piece of tortilla onto your plate despite your protests, “tell me family.”
You sigh softly, “What about them?”
“How many siblings?”
“One older brother.”
“Close?”
You nod slightly, “Yeah. He lives back in England.”
“Mhm.” Eli settles her chin into her hand. “And mami?”
Your expression softens automatically, “Very close.”
“Ah.” Eli points immediately like she’s solved something, “That why you understand my cooking superior.”
Alexia snorts quietly beside you.
You smile faintly into your drink, “She’s coping surprisingly well with the move actually,” you admit, “Probably because she’s more emotional stable than me.”
Alexia glances sideways at you immediately at that, you ignore it.
Eli continues happily interrogating your life, by the time you’re explaining your niece, you’re relaxed enough not to realise how much you’ve softened until Alexia quietly says, “You smile different talking about her.”
Your eyes flick toward her briefly and she’s already looking at you, the tension in your chest loosens slightly, “She’s three,” you say softly. “Bit obsessed with football already.”
“Because auntie famous footballer.”
“No,” you deadpan, “Because her parents have created a monster.”
Eli laughs warmly, “You have photo?”
You hesitate a second before unlocking your phone, “Better,” you mumble. “Video.” You scroll briefly before finding it, “She calls me Aunty Grumpy,” you explain while handing the phone over.
Eli gasps dramatically, “I have no idea why.”
Alexia actually smiles properly beside you for the first time all evening, Eli slides her glasses on carefully before taking the phone.
The second the video starts, her entire expression melts, on screen, your tiny niece stands in the middle of a living room wearing a Barcelona kit far too big for her, little socks pulled up unevenly, hair half falling out its ponytail grinning directly into the camera.
Behind it, your brother’s wife laughs softly, “Lily,” she says, “what’s the song we sing for Aunty Grumpy now she’s in Barcelona?”
Alexia visibly freezes beside you hearing her own name, Eli looks delighted, “Yeah,” your sister in law laughs behind the camera, “What song do they sing?”
And then your niece starts clapping wildly with absolutely no rhythm whatsoever, “Oh força Barça Aleeeee!” Again but louder. “OH FORÇA BARÇA ALEEEEE!” Bounce bounce bounce, tiny hands smacking together off beat.
Alexia fully covers her mouth trying unsuccessfully not to smile, Eli is openly emotional already, “Ay dios mío…”
Your niece keeps going relentlessly, “FORÇA BARÇA ALEEEEE!”
By now even you’re laughing softly into your hand, “She did this for twenty minutes apparently,” you explain.
“She very committed,” Alexia murmurs beside you, eyes still fixed on the screen.
The video ends with your niece falling sideways into the sofa still chanting, silence settles softly around the kitchen afterward, Eli hands the phone back carefully like it’s something precious, “She beautiful.”
Your chest warms immediately, “Yeah,” you say quietly. “She is.”
Alexia’s still smiling faintly when she looks toward you again, not the careful guarded smile from earlier, “She look just like you,” she says gently.
You glance down at the phone in your hands, then nod once, “Yeah.”
Alexia goes quiet again after that, but a few seconds later beneath the table her hand finds yours briefly, gentle, tentative and when your fingers curl back around hers she exhales softly like relief.
Hi. So if anyone has watched The Artful Dodger on Disney+, this is inspired by the scene between Jack and Belle outside the hospital. Also thank you to @lyak12 for the help/inspo
(not so) Scary
Leah Williamson x Reader
Description: Leah can come across as rather terrifying.
You had known Leah for years, that balancing act of professional and personal. Of course you knew of her. The budding centre back at Arsenal and England’s soon-to-be captain had been popping up in your life since you were kids. The thorn in your side at tournaments that somehow always ended up marking you for a corner kick.
You knew she must have been lovely at some point. Lucy had told you all about her blonde friend when you were at Lyon together, Georgia following suit during your brief spell at Bayern.
You had met her a few times for awards or the occasional get-together.
You knew when you accepted the contract with Arsenal that you wouldn’t get much playing time. It was a stacked squad and you were my no means the superstar that some of the others were. But, you were dependable. Quietly ticking along in the background. Steady, like a beating drum.
You hadn’t expected Leah to be the one to greet you at the door on your first day. It was chucking it down, typical introduction to London really. But she had on one of those giant overcoats, arms folded over her chest, scowl etched on her face.
“Leah,” she nodded at you, not offering a hand.
“Hi, um, I’m Y/N”. She just nodded at you again.
She hated you. You had barely said 4 words to the woman.
It had continued like that for months, the entire first half of the season was instructional grunts and huffs. It was strange really, you knew she could be lovely. You had seen it. How her guard fell with Beth and Katie, how she smiled and chatty away amicably to Jordan or Jen.
And then there was you.
“Beth, I don’t get it.” You huffed, flopping down onto your bed. It was an away match, you were cramped into some random hotel room.
“What don’t you get, pet?”
“Leah.” You would be lying if you didn’t find her incredibly attractive. But there was something about the scowl that seemed a permanent feature whenever you were around.
You had just come back from dinner. She had been chatting along perfectly fine with Viv and Daan, laughing and joking around. And then you appeared, putting your plate down and she froze up like a snowman. The conversation screeching to an uncomfortable halt. You don’t know if it would be more awkward to leave and save face or just stick it out.
“What about Leah?”
Beth knew all about Leah. Her propensity to become mute whenever you were around. Her very obvious and incredibly funny crush on you was only confirmed to the striker after she had managed to get her drunk and confess a month earlier.
“She hates me.” You whacked the bed beneath you for emphasis.
“She doesn’t.”
“She does.” You lifted your head, making eye contact with the blonde.
“She most definitely doesn’t hate you.”
“Oh so she just ices me out and glares at me ‘cos she’s just likes me so much?” You rolled your eyes, flopping back down.
“Something like that.” Beth smiled. “Why?” You knew that Beth was a shit-stirrer when she wanted to be, loving to be in the middle of all the gossip in the changing rooms.
You swallowed. “N-no reason.”
“Mm-ok.” Beth let the situation drop with too much ease.
Training the next day felt like running through wet cement. You’d barely slept, thoughts of Leah’s frozen expression at dinner looping in your brain like an annoying highlight reel. Beth had snored happily beside you, blissfully unaware of your 3 a.m. staring contest with the ceiling.
Leah was already on the pitch when you arrived - of course she was. Hair still damp from a shower, sleeves shoved haphazardly up her arms, pacing in that way she did when she was already three steps ahead of everyone else. She glanced up when you walked out.
And promptly looked straight back down.
You clenched your jaw. Brilliant.You were back to being a shadow she pretended not to see.
Warm-up runs were uneventful until a wayward pass from Jill sent the ball bouncing toward you and Leah at the same time. You went for it. She went harder.
Your shoulders collided, hard enough that you stumbled but caught yourself.
Hard enough that Leah’s eyes snapped to yours, wide, startled.
“Sorry,” you muttered, even though she’d definitely hit you harder than necessary.
“No, I-“ she cut herself off. “It’s fine.”
But she kept staring.
You could feel it, a weight between your ribs, too heavy and too light at the same time.
Throughout drills she was sharper with you than usual. Not unkind, just… keyed up. Touches too precise, challenges too firm, instructions rushed out like she was chasing something she didn’t know how to name.
At one point, when you moved past her in a possession game, her hand brushed your waist. A nothing touch. Barely there.
You felt it for minutes.
By the time training ended, your nerves were frayed.
You were tugging your jumper over your head in the changing room when Jordan called that tubs were open. Most players trickled out, chatter fading down the hallway. You lingered, fishing for your phone in your locker.
When you finally turned around, Leah was still there.
Alone.
Leaning against the far wall with her arms crossed, pretending to scroll her phone. Badly pretending. Her foot tapped the floor, too quick, too agitated.
You froze.
She looked up immediately.
Your breath caught in your throat.
You weren’t sure why.
“I, um,” she started, then stopped, lips pressing together like she’d lost the rest of the sentence on the way out.
You should’ve left. You should’ve given her an out, pretended you didn’t see the conflict on her face. But something in you tightened—some thread pulled taut from months of dodged glances and clipped words and that awful scowl she only ever reserved for you.
So you stayed.
“Did you… need something?” you asked carefully.
Leah sucked in a breath like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. “No. Just … making sure everyone’s out.”
You raised a brow.
“I’m still here.”
“I know.” she said before she could stop herself.
Silence shook between you.
You could have sworn your own heartbeat echoed off the tiles.
She looked away first, staring at the floor. “I’m not—I don’t—” Her hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know how to talk to you.”
That startled something loose in your chest. “You talk to everyone else.”
“That’s the problem.”
You blinked. “How is that a problem?”
Her eyes met yours then, really met yours. And suddenly you understood why people called her captain before she’d ever worn the armband. There was an honesty in her gaze that stripped you down to the bone.
“Because when I talk to you,” she said quietly, “I forget how to be normal.”
Your breath hitched.
The room felt too small.
Too warm.
Too something.
“I don’t hate you,” she added, almost painfully. “I just … get weird. Around you. And then I make it worse. And then you think I hate you even more.”
You didn’t realise you’d stepped closer until her eyes flicked to your feet. She didn’t move away.
More silence.
Tighter this time.
Charged.
You swallowed. “You get weird around me?”
Her cheeks flushed a shade you’d never seen on her. “Apparently.”
A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “You’re telling me that I scare you?”
“…. Maybe.”
“I’m the scary one out of us two,” you giggled nervously. She was closer now, her hand almost touching yours.
Slowly, like she had all the time in the world, she lifted her hand, letting her fingers skin lightly over your cheek bone as she pushed some hair out of your face.
“Are you afraid of me?” Leah’s hands moved back, cradling the back of your head, her fingers twisting in your roots. She angled your head back, forcing you to look at her. You swallowed your eyes never leaving her lips.
“Yes.” you whispered back. Leah couldn’t help the slow smile that spread lazily across her face. “You are the most terrifying woman I have ever met.”
“Is that a good thing?” She was impossibly close, her smell flooding your senses.
You blinked. “Depends on how you define good,”
Leah tasted like honey. Like happiness. Her lips were rough yet perfectly soft as they slotted against yours.
Leah pulled back slowly, her hand still resting against the back of your head. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with unspoken words. You could feel your pulse in your throat, in your fingertips, in the way your lungs seemed to hesitate to take in air. You had kissed her. And she had kissed you back.
She was the first to break the silence.
“Did that… was that…” Her voice was low, almost like she was trying to convince herself of something. “Did that feel weird?”
You chuckled softly, your breath still shaky. “Weird?”
“Yeah. Like… bad weird,” she said, her brow furrowing as if trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.
You shook your head, your hand coming up to touch your lips, feeling the residual warmth where she had just been. “No. No, it didn’t feel weird at all.”
Leah’s gaze softened, and she seemed to exhale for the first time since everything had shifted. She glanced down at her shoes, her fingers still gripping your hair just a little too tight, as if she wasn’t sure if she should let go.
You could feel the heat between you still, lingering, but now there was something else. It was as if the walls that had kept you apart for so long were finally crumbling, and neither of you knew exactly what came next.
Leah took a step back, but you didn’t let her go too far. Your hand reached out instinctively, brushing her arm, a silent plea for her to stay.
Her eyes flicked to yours, vulnerability evident in the way she held herself. "I’ve been… I’ve been wanting to do that for a while, you know?” she said quietly. "Or maybe I was hoping that maybe you would … figure it out, or whatever this is." She laughed awkwardly, clearly not entirely sure how to finish the sentence.
Your heart thudded in your chest. Hoping?
“Hoping for me?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah, I-” She stopped, exhaling a deep breath. “I’ve been acting like an idiot for months. Trying to keep you at arm’s length when I was really just…” Leah clenched her jaw, her hands fidgeting at her sides. “I was terrified.”
“Of me?” you whispered, incredulous. You couldn’t understand it. She was this intimidating, confident woman, a captain, a leader, someone who seemed to have everything under control. And yet, here she was, telling you she’d been scared.
She nodded, her gaze avoiding yours. “I’ve never been scared of anyone before. Not like this.”
Your heart gave a little lurch in your chest. You reached for her again, this time more gently, brushing your thumb over her knuckles.
“Leah, you don’t have to be scared,” you said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Leah’s gaze lifted, meeting yours again, this time with a depth that made everything else feel distant. The noise of the world outside the locker room, the rush of people still in the building, the ticking of the clock on the wall, it all faded into the background.
She let out a small, relieved laugh, and this time it wasn’t nervous. It was real. “I guess we’re both pretty good at hiding what we really feel, huh?”
You smiled, your fingers curling around hers. “Seems that way.”
Leah moved closer, her hand coming up to rest cup your cheek, her touch steady, grounding. “I never wanted to hurt you,” she said, her voice thick with sincerity. “I didn’t know how to… how to do this without making everything weird. I thought if I kept pretending like I didn’t care, it would just be easier.”
“I get it,” you said quietly. “I get why you did it. But, Leah…” You paused, taking a breath. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
Her eyes searched yours, almost as if looking for reassurance. She finally nodded, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “I think… I think I’m done pretending.”
You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling with something you couldn’t quite name.
“You think?”
She leaned in, brushing her lips against yours once more, just a soft, lingering press, like a promise.
“I know.” When she pulled away, her eyes were still locked on yours, a mixture of awe and something deeper. Something more. “I don’t know what this is yet,” she murmured, “but I want to figure it out with you.”
You smiled again, pulling her back into a gentle embrace. “Me too.”
After a few seconds, Leah cleared her throat, suddenly sounding a little more like her old self. “So… what now? You wanna go grab a drink or…?”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “Are we really going to pretend like we’re not both exhausted from training?”
She raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Well, I mean, we could always go for a takeaway?”
“Now that’s the Leah that I see with everyone else.” You grinned, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.
She winked at you. “You’re not getting out of it. Some chinese and a drink. My treat.”
“No ham sandwich? Or potato smiley?” you laughed. She just groaned, falling into you slightly, her frown returning.
“Hey,” you whined, reaching up to smooth out the crinkle. “No frowning. You’re not allowed to be scary anymore.”
——
“I don’t get it,” Katie said, her eyes tracking you and Leah from across the room, clearly intrigued by something she wasn’t understanding.
Leah had her signature frown plastered on her face, a look that made it seem like she was constantly deep in thought or ready to pounce on anyone who dared to interrupt her concentration. Her blonde hair was pulled up messily, a few strands falling out of place, but it only added to her tough-girl vibe. She was standing slightly in front of you, her posture rigid, but her focus was entirely on Steph, who was chatting away enthusiastically. Leah’s attention was unwavering, and you could tell she was listening closely, her jaw set in that familiar, slightly intense way that made everyone around her a little bit on edge.
You stood beside her, equally focused, though your body language couldn’t have been more different. You leaned a bit toward Leah, your shoulders relaxed and your gaze soft. Your expression mirrored Leah’s concentration, but where Leah had an edge to her focus, you gave off more of a calm, grounded energy. You were the calm to her storm, and it was something that those who knew you both had learned to appreciate over time.
“What don’t you get?” Lotte asked, trying to figure out what Katie was thinking as her eyes shifted between Leah and you.
“Leah and Y/N,” Katie said, her voice curious, the confusion still lingering in her tone. “They’re together, right?”
The two of them watched in silence as Leah, without missing a beat, maneuvered behind you in the queue for food. She slipped her hands onto your hips, pulling you closer as she rested her chin lightly on your shoulder. You leaned back into her, your body relaxing into the familiar warmth, while your eyes drifted over the wide selection of food laid out before you.
“Yeah, have been for years,” Lotte said with a casual nod. “Since before I came back from the States, actually.”
Katie’s eyes widened slightly. “But Leah’s so… scary,” she said slowly, as if trying to reconcile the image of the fearsome Leah she knew with the softer version she was seeing now. “And Y/N… isn’t.z”
Michelle, who had been listening quietly, joined in, her voice dripping with amusement as she kept watching you both. “Right? Like, Leah looks like she could break someone in half just by looking at them. And then there’s Y/N, all calm and chill. It doesn’t add up.”
The older girls laughed collectively, a deep, knowing laugh that didn’t poke fun at Leah’s reputation but embraced it. They knew exactly what Michelle meant - Leah had built a name for herself in the locker room as someone who demanded respect, who played hard and expected the same from those around her.
“What’s so funny?” Leah’s voice cut through the conversation, sharp and direct, as her eyes narrowed, scanning the group like a hawk. She’d clearly caught wind of the laughter.
“You’re scary,” McCabe said, grinning widely as she took a swig of her drink. “And your missus is not.”
“Oi, no I’m not!” Leah said immediately, her eyes flashing in indignation as she turned to face the group. She folded her arms across her chest, clearly not pleased with the direction the conversation had taken. “Tell them I’m not scary.”
Kim chuckled, her hand reaching out to pat Leah gently on the shoulder in a way that was both affectionate and teasing. “Yes, you are, Leah,” she said with a laugh. “And Y/N? Definitely not.”
Leah turned back to you, searching your face with exaggerated intensity. “Bubs, tell them I’m not scary,” she said, her tone dropping to a near-whine, the tough exterior cracking just a little bit.
You sighed softly, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you turned to face her. The affection in your eyes was undeniable as you met her gaze. “Baby,” you said with a soft shake of your head. “You’re terrifying.”
The group erupted into laughter again, the sound warm and familiar. Leah, though still wearing a scowl, couldn’t help but soften at your words. She knew it was true - knew that she had this intimidating presence that was hard to shake off, no matter how many times you told her she wasn’t as scary as she thought. The truth was, you loved that about her, even if it made the others wary.
Leah rolled her eyes but gave you a quick, tender squeeze around your waist. “I’m only terrifying if you’re on the wrong side of me,” she muttered, but there was a hint of a smile playing at her lips.
“Oh, we all know who wears the pants in this relationship,” Caitlin teased, leaning back in her chair, looking more than satisfied with the playful exchange. “Leah may be scary to the outside world, but Y/N’s the one who keeps her in check.”
You glanced at Leah, raising an eyebrow and shrugging.
Leah let out a dramatic sigh, clearly pretending to be exasperated. “Alright, alright,” she said, her voice carrying a of exasperation. “You all win. I’m terrifying. But don’t forget, I’m also the one who keeps Y/N from getting too wild.”
You smiled at her, leaning in for a quick kiss on the cheek. “Sure, baby. Whatever you say.”
What begins as a heavy prank devised by Beth Mead ends up bordering on disaster in the Arsenal locker room. After using professional makeup to fake a black eye on Y/N, Leah Williamson's reaction exceeds all expectations: the captain enters a state of protective fury that puts the entire team on alert.
Based on this request-> here, I hope you like it!!
---
The idea was Beth Mead's. That should have been your first, second, and third red flag. When Beth has free time, a twisted sense of humor, and a professional makeup kit, the result is never world peace.
“You don’t dare, Y/N. You’re too afraid of the Cap,” Beth said, sitting on a gym stool, twirling a blending brush between her fingers with the smile of an absolute villain.
“It’s not fear, Beth. It’s respect for my physical integrity,” you replied, though you were already letting yourself be convinced. “Leah has that protective instinct that is scary sometimes. If she thinks someone has touched me, she won’t ask for a name; she’ll ask for the nearest hospital.”
“Exactly! That’s the best part,” Beth insisted, leaning toward your face with an eyeshadow palette. “Besides, I want to see if this concealer is as good as they say. Stay still.”
For twenty minutes, Beth worked with the concentration of a surgeon. She mixed deep purples, greenish-yellows for a "healing" effect, and a touch of clear gloss to simulate recent swelling. The result was terrifying. When you looked in the mirror, you let out a gasp.
It looked real.
Too real.
“Does it hurt?” Beth asked dramatically.
“It’s going to hurt when Leah sees this.”
“It’s perfect. Now, get in there, look like the world is ending, and don’t say a word.”
The Arsenal locker room was a chaos of laughter, background music, and the sound of boots hitting the floor. Leah was in the center, one leg resting on the bench, reviewing tactical notes with Kim Little and Katie McCabe.
She was the picture of calm and leadership. You walked in with your shoulders slumped. You didn't look at anyone. You went straight to your locker, which happened to be two meters away from Leah, and began rummaging through your backpack with slow, clumsy movements.
The silence wasn't immediate, but it spread like a virus. First Katie went quiet. Then Kim. And finally, Leah looked up.
“Y/N? We’ve been waiting for you to...”
The sentence froze in mid-air. You saw the color drain from Leah’s face in a second, replaced by a deathly paleness. She dropped the papers on the floor without even noticing.
“Look at me,” Leah said, approaching where you were.
You turned slowly, letting the overhead light highlight the reddish glow and deep purple of your eye. She took a step toward you, her breathing becoming heavy. Her hands trembled slightly as she tried to reach for your face, but she stopped before touching you, as if she were afraid to break you.
“Who was it?” Her voice was low, a husky whisper that carried more danger than a scream.
“Leah, really, I’m fine, it was just an incident in the...”
“I said: who... was it?” This time the locker room trembled. Leah turned toward the rest of the players, who were watching the scene with wide eyes.
Beth, who at first was in the back holding back a laugh, stopped smiling when she saw that Leah’s jaw was so tight it looked like it was going to shatter.
“Does anyone want to explain to me why my girlfriend walks into the locker room like this?”
There was absolute silence.
A bottle fell to the floor somewhere.
Leah took another step toward the center of the locker room. “If someone touched her, we’re settling this right now.”
You started to enter real panic. Not because of the makeup. Because of the look in Leah’s eyes. It wasn't theatrical. It wasn't exaggerated. She was ready to fight.
Kim, with the calm of someone who has seen a thousand battles, approached you. She took you by the chin firmly and forced you to look toward the light. She frowned. She dampened her thumb with her water bottle and, before you could react, rubbed it hard against your cheekbone.
“Kim, what are you doing? It hurts her!” Leah shouted, ready to pounce.
Kim held up her thumb. It was stained with a bright purple color that didn't look like blood, but cosmetic.
“Leah,” Kim said, throwing a tired look at Beth, who was now trying to make herself small behind a pile of towels. “Unless Y/N bleeds glitter, I think you should review your combat priorities.”
The silence returned, but this time it was interrupted by a nervous, explosive laugh from Beth. “It’s long-lasting! The manufacturer wasn't lying!” Beth shouted from her hiding place.
Leah stood frozen. She looked at Kim’s finger, then looked at your face where there was now a blurry smudge revealing your intact skin. The air seemed to leave her lungs all at once. She covered her face with her hands and leaned against the locker, letting out a groan of frustration and relief.
“I’m going to kill you,” Leah muttered under her breath. “Both of you. I swear I’m going to kill you.”
Ten minutes later, the locker room was still a hotbed of teasing. “Watch out, here comes Mike Tyson,” Katie told Leah, while the others reenacted the scene of her breakdown.
When the locker room finally began to empty, Leah approached you with a wet wipe and began to clean off the rest of the makeup with extreme gentleness, even though she was still pretending to be angry.
“That wasn't funny, Y/N,” she whispered, avoiding your gaze. “For a moment... I felt like my heart stopped. I thought someone had actually hurt you and you couldn't defend yourself.”
“I’m sorry, really,” you said, taking her hand. “Beth started with the dares and... well, you know how she is.”
“I know. She’s walking chaos. But you should have more common sense.” Leah finally looked you in the eye, and the fury had dissipated, leaving only an immense tenderness. “I almost committed a crime for you today.”
“That’s a bit romantic, don’t you think?” You gave her a quick kiss on the nose. “My knight in shining armor... or Arsenal tracksuit.”
Leah let out a short laugh and wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you close. “Don't get used to it. The next time Beth offers you a makeover, tell her you'd rather keep your girlfriend out of jail.”
“I promise,” you laughed, relaxing against her chest. “No more war paint for a while.”
Leah leaned in to give you a soft kiss on your forehead, sealing the peace.
synopsis - you arrive in london determined to build a life beyond being alexia putellas' little sister, but first impressions prove harder than expected as you navigate a new club, a new language, and teammates you've only ever known as opponents. when an overly enthusiastic alessia russo misses your introduction and accidentally talks your ear off in english you barely understand, neither of you realise it's the beginning of something that will quietly change both your lives. (wc - 5.5k)
༄ notes - i rewrote this about four times until i realised that i was meant to be enjoying it; for @russotellas
༄ read more - masterlist
you had always been chiqui.
it was the first thing people learned about you, even before they learned anything else. before they knew your position, before they knew your playing style, before they knew that number fifteen belonged to one of the most gifted midfielders of your generation, they knew the nickname.
chiqui.
chiquita.
baby putellas.
you had spent your entire life being the youngest person in every room you entered, and somehow that had followed you even when you stopped being young.
your mother had called you chiquita since you were born. it was never really about your age. it was just a name that belonged to you, something soft and familiar that only existed because it came from her. it was what she called you when you were tired, when you were upset, when you were pretending you weren’t upset, because everyone in your family knew you were terrible at hiding your emotions despite how hard you tried.
alba had taken the nickname and made it hers. to her, you were still the little sister who followed her around the house and annoyed her until she gave in. she remembered you before football became the centre of your world, before people cared about the putellas surname, before anyone knew what you could do with a ball. she remembered you when you were just her annoying little sister who stole things from her room and refused to apologise.
and alexia had never stopped calling you chiqui.
that was the one that always affected you the most.
because alexia had been there for every version of you.
before the trophies.
before the headlines.
before people started comparing you to her.
she remembered you as the little girl who wanted to be exactly like her, the one who copied her movements on the pitch, the one who watched her with complete admiration and thought her older sister was the greatest footballer alive.
and maybe that was why leaving felt so impossible.
because you weren’t leaving somewhere you hated.
you weren’t running away from a place that didn’t love you.
you were leaving somewhere that loved you so much it sometimes felt impossible to become anything else.
barcelona was home.
it had always been home.
the streets you grew up on, the language that felt natural in your mouth, the people who knew your habits better than you knew them yourself. barça had given you everything. it had taken you in as a kid and helped shape you into the player you became.
you loved that club.
you loved your teammates.
you loved the people who had watched you grow.
but somewhere along the way, you started wondering what it would feel like to walk into a room where nobody already knew your story.
where nobody saw alexia first.
where nobody introduced you as the younger putellas.
where nobody expected you to be a certain version of yourself.
because you weren’t trying to escape being baby putellas.
you just wanted to know who you were when you weren’t.
that was the part nobody really understood.
when the news came out that you were leaving barcelona, people had questions.
everyone did.
why arsenal?
why now?
why leave a club that had been your entire life?
you gave the answers everyone expected.
a new challenge.
a new experience.
a chance to grow.
and they were all true.
you just didn’t know how to explain the part that mattered most.
you needed to prove something to yourself.
not to your family, not to barca, not to anyone else. just yourself.
you needed to know that you could walk into somewhere completely new and still be y/n.
your room looked different the week before you left.
it was strange how quickly a place could stop feeling permanent. nothing had changed about it, not really. the same walls, the same furniture, the same little things you had collected over the years.
but the empty spaces made everything feel different.
your shelves had gaps where trophies and memories had been moved into boxes. your wardrobe had more empty hangers than clothes. your boots were packed away instead of sitting where they always had after training.
you sat on the floor with a half-packed suitcase in front of you, staring at a shirt you had folded three times because you couldn’t decide whether you actually wanted it or if you were just avoiding packing something else.
you hated that.
you hated feeling uncertain.
you were someone who knew exactly what she wanted on the pitch. you could read a game before it happened. you could make decisions in seconds. you could find passes other people didn’t even see.
but this was different.
your mother noticed, because she always noticed.
eli putellas-segura stood in the doorway for a while before you finally looked up.
“what?”
she smiled slightly. “nothing.”
you narrowed your eyes. “you’re looking at me.”
“i’m allowed to look at my daughter.”
you looked back at your suitcase. “you’re doing the thing.”
“what thing?”
“the thing where you pretend you’re not worried.”
her smile softened. “i could say the same about you.”
you didn’t answer.
because she was right.
you weren’t scared of football. you never had been.
but you were scared of everything around it.
you were used to knowing where you belonged. you were used to walking into the training ground and knowing every person, every room, every routine. you were used to people understanding that your silence didn’t mean you were upset and that your serious face didn’t mean you hated them.
you knew yourself in barcelona.
london was different.
“you’re going to be okay, chiquita.”
you sighed quietly. “everyone keeps saying that.”
“because it’s true.”
you looked at her. “what if i don’t like it?”
eli shrugged. “then you come home.”
you frowned slightly. “that’s it?”
“that’s it.” she said it so simply.
like leaving didn’t mean you were abandoning anything.
like trying something new didn’t mean you were choosing against them.
“you don’t have to stay somewhere just because people love you there,” she continued. “sometimes people love you enough to let you go.”
you looked down.
that was the problem.
everyone was making it harder because everyone understood.
⸻
mariona had been one of the first people you told properly.
not the announcement.
not the official conversations.
the real one.
the one where you admitted that you weren’t completely sure.
you were sitting together after training at national camp, and she had watched you for about five minutes before speaking.
“you’re thinking too much.”
you looked at her. “no.”
“yes.”
“how do you know?”
she smiled. “because you have your thinking face.”
you frowned. “this is my face.”
“exactly.”
you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the tiny smile.
mariona always did that.
she had a way of getting past the walls you put up without making you feel like she was trying to break them down.
“you’re scared,” she said.
you looked away. “no.”
“chiqui.”
“don’t.”
she laughed softly. “you don’t hate when i say it.”
“i do.”
“you don’t.”
you didn’t argue because she knew you too well. “i just don’t want to be known as someone’s little sister forever.”
mariona’s expression changed slightly.
not pity.
never pity.
just understanding.
“you know that’s not how people see you.”
“sometimes it is.”
she nodded.
because she wasn’t going to lie to you.
“maybe some people will always see you as alexia’s little sister.”
you looked at her.
“but that doesn’t stop you being one of the best players in the world.”
you stayed quiet.
“both things can exist, chiqui.”
and maybe that was what you needed to hear.
not that you weren’t baby putellas.
because you were.
you always would be.
but that you could be that and still be something more.
⸻
the goodbye itself was quieter than people probably expected.
you weren’t someone who liked big emotional moments. you didn’t like everyone watching you cry. you didn’t like people treating you like you were fragile.
you weren’t fragile.
you were just leaving.
but airports had a way of making everything feel heavier.
your family stood around you with your bags beside you, and suddenly london felt much further away than it had when it was just an idea.
alba hugged you first.
you immediately complained. “you’re crushing me.”
she laughed. “you’re dramatic.”
“i’m not.”
“you are.”
you rolled your eyes, but you didn’t pull away straight away.
because it was alba.
then alexia stepped forward, and you already knew what was coming.
“no.”
she smiled. “yes.”
“ale.”
“chiqui.”
you sighed, but you let her hug you.
because some rules didn’t apply to your family.
she held you tightly for a moment. “i’m proud of you, bebita.”
you swallowed. “i know.”
she pulled back slightly. “no, you don’t.”
and she was right.
because you spent so much time trying to prove yourself that sometimes you forgot the people closest to you had already believed in you from the beginning.
“call me.”
“i will.”
“actually call me.”
you sighed. “i said i will.”
“not text.”
you looked at her. “you’re annoying.”
she smiled. “you love me.”
unfortunately, she was right.
when you finally walked away, you didn’t look back immediately.
you waited until you were further away.
until you knew if you turned around, you might hesitate.
and when you did look back, you saw everything that had made you who you were.
your family.
your home.
your club.
your life.
you weren’t leaving because you didn’t love it.
you were leaving because you did.
because sometimes loving something meant being brave enough to step away and discover what else existed.
and as you boarded the plane to london, you carried every piece of barcelona with you.
the little girl who grew up there.
the player who was created there.
the sister.
the daughter.
the teammate.
the girl everyone called chiqui.
but for the first time in your life, you were about to go somewhere nobody knew you yet.
and maybe that was exactly what you needed.
⸻
the first thing you noticed about london was the cold.
it wasn’t something you had expected to bother you as much as it did. you had played football in all kinds of conditions, travelled across countries for tournaments, stood on pitches where the weather was far worse than this, but there was something different about actually living somewhere.
a bad day of weather was temporary.
this was your new normal.
you sat quietly in the passenger seat of mariona’s car, your eyes following the city outside the window as she drove. everything looked unfamiliar in a way that made you feel strangely small. you had spent your entire life knowing barcelona like the back of your hand. you knew which roads were quicker, which cafés had the best coffee, which places you could go where nobody would bother you.
london felt like a puzzle you hadn’t figured out yet.
and you hated puzzles.
not because you couldn’t solve them.
because you couldn’t solve them immediately.
mariona glanced over at you when they stopped at a red light, catching the way you were staring out the window with the same expression you wore when you were analysing an opponent.
“you’re doing it again.”
you looked away from the window. “doing what?”
“thinking too much.”
you frowned. “i’m just looking.”
“you’ve been looking at the same building for about thirty seconds.”
you looked back outside. “it’s different.”
mariona smiled softly. “yes, chiqui. that’s usually how new places work.”
you immediately looked at her. “don’t call me that.”
she laughed because she knew exactly what she was doing. “you don’t actually hate it.”
“i do.”
“you don’t.”
you didn’t answer because, annoyingly, she was right.
that was the problem with mariona. she had known you long enough to understand the things you didn’t say. she knew that when you got quieter, it wasn’t because you didn’t care. she knew that when you looked annoyed, half the time you were just overwhelmed. she knew that your constant need to insist you were fine usually meant you were anything but.
and she never pushed too hard.
she just stayed.
that was why you trusted her.
⸻
staying with mariona and lia was the easiest part of the move.
you had expected leaving barcelona to feel like losing everything familiar at once, but having them there gave you something steady while everything else changed. they didn’t treat you like you were someone who had just left home for the first time. they didn’t constantly ask if you were okay or tell you how brave you were being.
you hated that.
you hated when people made a big deal out of things.
you weren’t fragile.
you weren’t scared.
you had simply chosen something new.
and there was a difference.
lia was especially good at making the transition feel normal. she didn’t overwhelm you with questions or try to fill every silence. she understood that you weren’t someone who needed constant conversation. sometimes sitting in the same room with someone was enough.
mariona, on the other hand, was impossible.
she had decided almost immediately that making you comfortable in london meant teasing you as much as possible.
which, unfortunately, worked.
“you know,” she said while watching you unpack your suitcase, “most people move countries and don’t immediately complain about the weather.”
you looked up from folding a shirt. “the weather is bad.”
lia looked over from the kitchen. “you’ve been here two days.”
“and?”
mariona laughed. “you’re unbelievable.”
you shrugged. “i’m honest.”
“you’re dramatic.”
“same thing.”
that made lia laugh, and you tried not to smile because you didn’t want to encourage them.
you failed.
mariona noticed immediately. “there.”
you looked at her. “what?”
“you smiled.”
“no.”
“yes.”
“no.”
“i saw it.”
you rolled your eyes and went back to your suitcase.
but the room felt a little lighter.
⸻
the hardest part about being somewhere new wasn’t the football.
you knew it wouldn’t be.
football had always been the one place where you felt completely certain. no matter where you were in the world, no matter who you played against, you understood the game. you understood movement, space, timing. you understood what was expected of you.
everything outside of football was where things became complicated.
you knew arsenal.
not personally.
but you knew them.
you had played against some of them internationally. you knew their styles, their strengths, the way they moved on the pitch. you had spent years studying opponents because that was just how you were.
you liked knowing things.
you liked being prepared.
but knowing someone as an opponent was different from meeting them as a teammate.
that thought stayed in your mind over those first two days.
you tried not to let it.
you unpacked.
you organised your things.
you looked through the information arsenal had sent you.
you learned where everything was.
you tried to make the unfamiliar feel familiar.
but every night, when you lay in bed, the same thought came back.
tomorrow, nobody there would know you.
they would know your name, they would know your football, they would know your surname, but they wouldn’t know you.
they wouldn’t know that your serious face didn’t mean you were angry.
they wouldn’t know you hated being touched unless you trusted someone.
they wouldn’t know that your way of caring was remembering small things and doing them without mentioning it.
they would just see a new player arriving from barcelona.
and for some reason, that scared you more than any match ever had.
⸻
the morning of your first training session, you woke up before your alarm.
which annoyed you.
you hated when your own nerves betrayed you.
you lay there for a few minutes staring at the ceiling, convincing yourself that there was nothing to be nervous about.
you were twenty-four.
you were an international player.
you had played in finals.
you had played against some of the best players in the world.
walking into a training ground should not have made your stomach twist.
but it did.
because this wasn’t about football.
it was about starting again.
when you eventually got up, you followed your usual routine because routines helped. they gave you something familiar to hold onto.
by the time mariona came downstairs, you were already ready.
of course you were.
your bag was packed.
your boots were organised.
everything was exactly where it needed to be.
mariona leaned against the doorway and looked at you.
you immediately knew what she was thinking. “don’t.”
she smiled. “i didn’t say anything.”
“you were going to.”
“i was.”
you sighed. “mariona.”
“you look nervous.”
“i’m not.”
“chiqui.”
you stared at her. “i said don’t.”
she laughed quietly. “okay, okay.” but her expression softened, because underneath the teasing, she understood. “you’ll be good.”
you nodded.
you didn’t need her to tell you you’d be amazing.
you already knew you could play.
you just needed to hear that you wouldn’t be alone.
⸻
the drive to arsenal was quiet, but not uncomfortable.
mariona and lia knew better than to force conversation when you were thinking.
she simply drove, occasionally pointing something out when she thought it might help you remember where things were.
you listened.
you stored it away.
you always did.
when the training ground finally came into view, you felt that nervous feeling again.
not enough to make you want to leave.
never that.
just enough to remind you that this mattered.
mariona parked the car and turned it off.
for a moment, neither of you moved.
then lia looked at you. “ready?”
you looked towards the building.
your new club.
your new team.
your new life.
you nodded. “yes.”
lia smiled. “good.”
you reached for your bag, but before you opened the door, mariona spoke again.
“chiqui.”
you paused.
you already knew. “what?”
“don’t forget who you are.”
you looked at her.
and maybe anyone else saying that would have annoyed you.
but it was mariona.
so you just nodded.
“i won’t.”
and you meant it.
⸻
inside, everything happened quickly.
there were introductions, paperwork, explanations of where things were, names to remember. it was a lot of information at once, but you absorbed as much as you could.
you always did.
renee welcomed you first, making everything feel less overwhelming than you expected. she didn’t make a big speech about who you were or where you came from. she didn’t make you feel like you had arrived carrying some huge expectation.
she just welcomed you.
kim was the same.
calm.
professional.
kind.
you recognised her immediately, of course. everyone did. she was the type of player you noticed even when you played against her.
but here, she wasn’t an opponent.
she was your captain.
“we’re happy you’re here,” kim told you.
you nodded. “thank you.”
simple.
but genuine.
your english wasn’t perfect, and you knew that. you could understand more than you could say, but speaking still required thought. every sentence felt like you had to build it before letting it out.
neither of them made you feel embarrassed about it.
they simply slowed down when they needed to.
and that helped.
mariona eventually had to leave, and that was the moment where everything became real.
because until then, she had been your connection to home.
your safety net.
you watched her and lia walk away, and for a brief second, you felt that familiar uncertainty again.
but then you looked back at the training ground.
at the badge.
at the people around you.
and you reminded yourself why you were here.
you weren’t running away from barcelona.
you were moving towards something new.
renee and kim continued showing you around, explaining where things were and what the day would look like.
you listened carefully.
you remembered everything.
and when they eventually led you towards the changing room, you took a breath.
because behind that door were people who would become your teammates.
and that scared the shit out of you already.
⸻
the changing room was louder than you expected.
not in a bad way.
just different.
you had spent years walking into barcelona’s changing room knowing exactly what you were walking into. you knew who would be singing, who would be arguing about something pointless, who would be sitting quietly in their own world before training. you knew the rhythm of it.
every team had one.
every team had its own language.
and you were about to learn arsenal’s.
renee opened the door first, stepping inside before looking back at you. you could tell she was giving you a second to adjust, which you appreciated. she wasn’t rushing you through it or pushing you into the middle of everyone’s attention.
that was probably the first thing you liked about her.
you hated being the centre of attention.
especially when it wasn’t because of football.
“everyone,” renee called, and the conversations slowly started to quiet down. “this is y/n. she’ll be joining us this season.”
immediately, you felt every pair of eyes turn towards you.
you kept your expression neutral.
you were very good at that.
too good, according to your family.
alba always said you had the worst resting face she had ever seen.
alexia said people probably thought you hated them before they even met you.
you always told them they were exaggerating.
they never agreed.
“hi.” your voice was quiet, and your accent was obvious- you knew that.
your english wasn’t terrible. you understood conversations. you could follow instructions. you could communicate when you needed to.
but speaking was different.
there was always that extra second where you had to find the right words.
“hi,” several people responded back.
kim stepped slightly forward, making the introduction easier. “y/n is joining us from barcelona.”
you noticed the reactions.
not dramatic.
not overwhelming.
just small changes.
people recognised the name.
of course they did.
you had spent years playing at the highest level. they knew your football. they knew the reputation that came with being a young midfielder from barça.
but the thing you appreciated was that nobody treated you like you were some untouchable player.
they were footballers.
they understood.
and the fact that you’re sure laia and mariona had filled them in beforehand.
but everyone in that room got it. they had been the new person before.
“welcome,” one of them said.
you nodded. “thank you.”
simple.
you looked around, taking everyone in.
you recognised some faces immediately.
players you had played against internationally.
players you had watched.
players whose games you understood because you had spent hours analysing them before matches.
but this wasn’t a match.
these were your teammates now.
that was a strange thought.
mariona, who had stayed for the beginning because she knew this was the part you would hate most, stood slightly behind you.
not interfering.
just there.
she knew you didn’t like people making a fuss.
you noticed laia almost immediately- over the years she had become some sort of a big sister to you. most people didn’t understand what you meant when you described yourself as a quiet person. they just thought you were a bitch.
laia didn’t.
she just made space.
and you appreciated that.
“hola, chiquita” she said softly.
you looked at her. “hola.”
it was the easiest conversation you’d had all morning.
maybe because it didn’t require thinking.
maybe because it reminded you of home.
you noticed mariona smiling slightly from beside you.
you ignored her.
because you knew exactly what she was thinking.
⸻
the introductions continued, and slowly the room went back to normal.
that was something you appreciated about football.
there was always a point where the attention moved on.
people had things to do, training to prepare for, bags to unpack, conversations to continue.
you knew you wouldn’t stuck being the new girl forever.
youwould find your place quietly.
that was how you always did things.
you never entered a room trying to be noticed.
you never needed to.
your football usually did that for you.
but this wasn’t about proving yourself.
not yet.
you sat down, organising your things exactly the way you liked them. boots placed neatly, clothes folded- everything in order.
habits were comforting.
especially when everything else was unfamiliar.
“you always that organised?”
you looked up.
it was one of the girls- chloe kelly standing nearby, watching you arrange your things.
you thought about the question for a second.
“yes.”
she laughed.
not at you.
just amused. “fair enough.”
you nodded and continued.
because that was enough conversation for now.
⸻
the one person who wasn’t there was alessia.
you didn’t know that yet.
you didn’t know who she was beyond her name.
you knew her as a footballer, obviously.
everyone did.
you had played against england enough times to know the players.
you knew she was a striker.
you knew she was physical, intelligent, good in the box.
you knew she was someone you would have studied before playing against her.
but you didn’t know her.
not yet.
and nobody thought much about her being absent.
she had physio.
things happened.
football was like that.
people came and went.
you didn’t think about it.
you didn’t wonder who was missing.
you didn’t know that someone was about to walk into the gym later, recognise you immediately, and feel strangely guilty that she hadn’t been there when everyone introduced themselves.
you didn’t know that someone was about to make your first days in london a lot less lonely.
for now, you were just trying to remember names.
trying to understand the routines.
trying to figure out where you belonged.
and honestly, that was enough.
because you had spent your whole life being introduced as someone else’s little sister.
someone else’s teammate.
someone else’s prodigy.
but here, in this room, you were just you.
and that was exactly why you came.
⸻
alessia mia teresa russo had a habit of talking when she was nervous.
not that she would ever admit she was nervous.
she would probably argue that she was just friendly.
and she was.
alessia was one of those people who naturally made rooms feel warmer. she was the person who noticed when someone was sitting alone, the person who remembered little details, the person who would start a conversation with anyone because she genuinely wanted them to feel comfortable.
but sometimes that kindness came with a slight problem.
she filled silence.
a lot.
which was exactly what happened when she walked into the gym after physio and immediately recognised you.
she had been late getting back.
not dramatically late.
just enough that she missed the introductions.
and she had already been annoyed with herself about it because she hated feeling like someone had arrived and she hadn’t made an effort to welcome them.
especially someone new.
especially someone who had just moved countries.
especially someone who looked like they were trying very hard not to look overwhelmed.
she had seen your name on the team list.
everyone had.
even before you officially arrived, people knew arsenal had signed you from barcelona.
but seeing you standing there was different.
because you weren’t the player from the highlights.
you weren’t the midfielder everyone talked about.
you were just a girl standing in the gym with laia, looking completely uninterested in the world around you.
and for some reason, alessia found that incredibly endearing.
she didn’t know why.
she just did.
“lessi.”
she looked over.
kyra was watching her with the exact expression of someone who already knew something she didn’t.
“what?”
kyra raised her eyebrows. “nothing.”
alessia narrowed her eyes. “you’re doing that thing.”
“what thing?”
“the thing where you look like you’re about to say something annoying.”
kyra grinned. “i didn’t say anything.”
“exactly.”
but before alessia could question her further, she looked back towards you.
and made a decision.
she was going to say hello.
because that was normal.
that was just being a good teammate.
there was absolutely no reason her heart should feel slightly nervous walking across the gym.
none.
she ignored that.
⸻
you noticed her approaching before she said anything.
you usually did.
you were observant.
it was part of football.
you had to be.
you noticed movements, expressions, changes in people’s body language.
so when a blonde girl walked towards you with a smile, you looked up.
laia noticed immediately.
she always noticed things.
“that’s alessia,” she quietly told you.
you nodded.
you recognised the name.
before you could say anything else, alessia stopped in front of you.
and then immediately started talking.
“hi, sorry, i’m alessia. it’s really nice to meet you. sorry i missed everyone introducing themselves, physio ran over, then i got distracted because apparently nobody tells me anything around here.”
you blinked.
you understood some of it.
not all.
she was speaking quickly.
very quickly.
“anyway, welcome. if you need help with anything, honestly just ask. everyone’s really nice- well, mostly nice. just don’t listen to leah or chloe before 8am though because it’s like a thing where they’re just super grumpy and they’re not morning people and-”
she stopped for half a second.
only because she realised you were staring at her.
not in a rude way.
just listening.
your expression hadn’t changed.
which made alessia wonder if you understood anything she had said.
she smiled awkwardly. “sorry.”
you didn’t know what she was apologising for.
but she seemed kind.
so you nodded. “okay.”
that was all you had.
okay.
alessia smiled.
“yeah.”
there was a pause.
a very long pause.
you both just looked at each other.
and neither of you really knew what to do next.
because alessia was used to people matching her energy.
talking back, laughing, asking questions.
but you didn’t.
not because you didn’t want to.
you just didn’t have the words.
and because you were y/n, your silence looked much more intimidating than it actually was.
but alessia didn’t seem put off.
if anything, she looked amused.
“right.” another pause. “i’ll let you get back to it.”
you nodded. “thank you.”
and then alessia walked away.
except she didn’t get very far.
because kyra immediately started laughing. “lessi.”
alessia turned around.
kyra was standing with caitlin and katie, all three of them looking far too entertained.
“what?”
kyra shook her head. “she didn’t understand you, mate.”
alessia froze. “what?”
caitlin tried not to laugh. “less, you just spoke at her for like two minutes.”
“i was welcoming her.”
“you gave her a whole speech.”
alessia looked back towards you.
you were still standing with laia.
still with the same calm expression.
“oh.”
kyra grinned. “yeah.”
alessia covered her face slightly.
“i’m an idiot.”
“a little bit,” katie said.
her thick irish accent made the sentence even harder for you to understand from across the room, but you noticed the laughter.
kyra looked back at you.
and then, because kyra was kyra, she decided she needed to fix the situation.
she walked over, and with a small smile she adressed you. “sorry, chickie.”
you looked at her confused.
you understood sorry.
the rest was less clear.
but you recognised something.
a nickname.
because you had heard mariona and laia call you chiqui.
kyra had clearly heard it too.
except she was australian.
and apparently “chiqui” became “chickie.”
you stared at her.
then at alessia.
then back at kyra.
“chickie?”
kyra smiled. “yeah.”
you didn’t know what else to do.
so you nodded. “okay.”
and somehow, that was enough.
because from that day forward, chickie stuck.
⸻
alessia came back over after kyra dragged her away, looking slightly embarrassed.
caitlin followed, probably because she knew alessia needed someone to explain what was happening.
“she speaks some english,” caitlin told her quietly. “but not much.”
alessia nodded. “i didn’t realise.”
“because you didn’t stop talking.”
alessia looked offended. “i talk normally.”
caitlin stared at her. “you absolutely do not.”
alessia laughed. “okay. maybe not.”
but her eyes moved back towards you.
you were still with laia.
quiet, watching, taking everything in.
and alessia noticed something.
you weren’t cold.
everyone might assume that at first.
your face was serious.
your answers were short.
you didn’t immediately try to make friends.
but she could tell there was something else there.
she just didn’t know what yet.
laia did, though.
because laia had been watching you the entire time.
and she had noticed something nobody else had.
you had blushed.
not much.
barely anything.
just a slight warmth in your cheeks when alessia stood in front of you, talking too quickly and smiling like she had known you longer than five seconds.
but laia saw it.
and that was the surprising part.
because she had known you long enough to know that you did not blush.
not when people complimented you.
not when fans cheered your name.
not when someone tried to flirt with you.
never.
but alessia russo had walked over, rambled nonsense you barely understood, and somehow made baby putellas blush.
laia said nothing.
she just smiled to herself.
because maybe this move to london was going to be more interesting than anyone expected.
Finally posting this bc it’s been sitting in my drafts literally since Arsenal beat Chelsea at Stamford bridge lol
Legacy
Renée Slegers x Reader
Just a little smutty oneshot :)
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI oral, fingering, strap. Nothing too wild, but definitely 18+!! Also teeny tiny injury mention if you really really squint.
Two nil at Stamford Bridge.
Eight years of losing, a legacy she’d inherited from not one, but two predecessors.
The weight of rivalry, of expectation, of suffering, easing in a split second.
Katie barrels towards the touchline, hollering as she runs. She throws her arms around Renée’s neck, spinning her round.
“Gaffer! We fucking did it!”
This kind of affection usually makes her clam up, pull back, maintain a professional distance. But today- today is special, and allowances must be made.
“Yeah you did.” She cuffs Katie around the head, turning to Kim who has materialised quietly beside her, grinning.
“How’s that then?”
Renée just laughs.
“Think it’ll do.”
Around them, chaos reigns. Girls are jumping on one another’s shoulders, taking photos, a couple drifting over to the crowd, signing scarves and meeting young fans. It’s loud, joyous, a raucous celebration that some in the crowd are too young to remember the last of.
But you remember. Being in the stands, stamping your feet and cheering. Just a fan, back then, a supporter. And now- now you sit in the front row, just behind the bench, a huge grin plastered on your face. You watch her, congratulating the players, shaking hands and giving hugs. She is glowing, so completely in her element, eyes crinkled in a laugh at something Leah is saying.
And then she turns, her gaze flickering up to the stands, and her eye catches yours. Her smile shifts, lip catching between her teeth. When the crowd lulls a little, she slips away, her steps towards you steady yet purposeful. She reaches the bench, steps up to the seats, and leans over the row to reach you.
You prop your elbows on the seat in front and lean down, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. But she lingers close, even in front of all those people, and speaks just softly enough that no one can hear.
“You promised me a surprise if we won.”
The husk in her tone sends a shiver down your spine.
“Oh darling,” you reply in kind, mouth close to her ear.
“You’re getting one, don’t you worry. I’ll be waiting.”
As she steps back from the stands and heads towards the tunnel, there’s a look in Renée’s eyes. It’s dark, heavy, the kind of want that only bubbles up when it has been simmering beneath the surface for a long, long time.
She is the very vision of composure as she talks the game through with the girls, bringing the excitement down into a concerted energy. Yes, winning is great. But now they have to keep winning. She says all the words she has rehearsed before the circle breaks and the team gets ready to leave. And the entire time, she ignores the fizzing, rising energy in her stomach, the anticipation of something, although right now she has no idea what. That almost makes it better.
-🧡-
You recline back on the bed and your breath hitches as the door clicks closed downstairs.
“Baby? I’m back!” She calls, and she sounds tired.
“I’m up here!” You return, smirking at how quickly her footsteps move to the stairs. She might be tired, but she hasn’t forgotten.
“Hello beautiful… wait what?” Renée falters in the doorway, her eyes wide.
“But that’s…”
And it is. You’d thought about wearing an Arsenal shirt for this occasion, something to commemorate their victory today. But this felt more impactful- World Cup, 2015. Not easy to get hold of, but infinitely worth it for the look on her face.
“It’s your shirt.” You state simply, sitting up.
“That you never got to wear. But it’s yours. Just like that team was yours. And this team is yours. And I’m yours.”
You sit, and she just watches from the middle of the room, her mouth hanging slightly open. Then you lean forward, hands meeting the mattress, and slide down until your chest meets the quilt and your hips arch up. She can see it clearly now, white letters across your back: Slegers.
It does something to her. It’s sexy, yes, impossibly so- the bare curve of your ass beneath the hem, the tail of your black lace underwear just barely visible. But it’s more than that- it’s thoughtful, it means something, and you’re giving her a power over her narrative that nobody ever has before. This was the year everything went wrong- and now she gets to claim it back.
“Baby, I-“ she hesitates, struggling to find the words. You sit up, at the end of the bed now, and hold out your arms to her. She comes willingly, a wistful smile on her face. Instead of pulling her in, you gently unzip her training jacket, and toss it across the floor.
“I want to feel you.” You breathe, and she stands still and awestruck as you make quick work of her clothes. “Let me show you, please.”
-🧡-
You lay her on her back, amongst the pillows. As badly as you want her, the heat rolling in your stomach, it is worth it to take a moment to look at her like this. The soft curve of her chest, the swell of her hips, the jut of her collarbones as she leans her head back. Her hair is down now, flowing in dark waves over the pillows. She rarely wears it like that, but by god is it beautiful.
“You are everything.” You start, knees resting against the edge of the mattress.
“You have worked so hard. You have achieved so much. And my greatest achievement is getting to love you.”
She smiles, soft and sweet, but it quickly dissolves into a heaving exhale as you duck your head and your lips find the inside of her thigh. Renée props herself up on her elbows, watching the flex of your back with her name stretched across it as your shoulders dip.
You are slow, reverent and gentle, and the effervescent need in her stomach from earlier simmers closer to boiling point. But you pause before getting to where she needs you most, and she whines at the ache that persists. She looks up at your face, chin jutting, as you twist your hair back and tie it loosely.
“Baby.” She’s trying to be firm, but her voice shakes.
“What?” You cock your head to the side, grinning like you haven’t just left her dripping and waiting.
“This is meant to be my prize. I shouldn’t have to beg.” Her voice betrays her again, the need trembling in her tone. You hum, repositioning yourself, hooking an arm around her thigh to open her up wider. You know every inch of her, every crease that hides nerve endings, every fold that collects her wetness so deliciously.
And yet, you will never get tired of this- the scent of her, expensive soap and pure lust, the ragged sound of her breathing as you ghost your mouth closer. Then the taste of her as you drag your tongue lazily up her slit, and the moan that rips unashamedly from her throat at the contact.
The time for niceties is long gone- now her fingers tangle in your hair, and she tilts her head up to watch you as you lick lazily, indulging without agenda. A part of Renée wants to urge you on, to make you go faster, harder. But in truth, she is enjoying this- the talent and certainty of a mouth that knows her, winding her up slowly.
You do take your time; featherlight, tiny circles with the tip of your tongue over her clit, pulling away to dip it inside her whenever her hips start to shift impatiently. Your increase in pressure is controlled and precise- it makes your jaw ache, this level of restraint, but the slow, incremental build is so impossibly worth it. Primarily because it means she, so lost in the feeling of your mouth on her, doesn’t realise how close you’ve drawn her until it’s too late. She comfortably settles into a babbling prayer of expletives in both English and Dutch, words merging together in a way that doesn’t make any sense. But you know exactly what she means when she says
“Oh my god!”
And the appropriate reaction is to push two fingers inside her, curling roughly up as your mouth works. They go easily, she is so close anyway, and the blasphemy on her lips is only a sign that she is already teetering on the edge. You could almost count the number of times you curl your fingers before she locks up, orgasm seizing her in its grasp. You pause, lips resting gently on her and hand still, as she rocks, trembling, under your mouth. The needy groans dissolve into a whine as she rides it out, unabashedly bucking up under you to maintain the friction.
She keeps going longer than you would’ve thought, each aftershock sending a fresh wave of spasms and a whimper through her body. You remain in place, flat on your stomach with her name on your back, as she twitches to an eventual stop.
Her knees go slack, and her breathing starts to even out- this is your cue to sit up, easing out of her gently, eyes on her face for any sign of discomfort. There is none, she is floating- but still manages to whine at the loss.
“You good?” You ask, and Renée just nods and hums softly, eyes still half closed.
Then, without opening them, she says,
“Get the strap.”
Your heart clenches.
“Now?”
When you look back her eyes are open, pupils blown and dark, a smirk on her lips.
“Yes, now.”
When you come back, she sits up and takes it from you without a word, shimmying it into place.
“Need me to warm you up, baby?”
You didn’t really, already trembling with need, but when she offers like that it is impossible to resist. You just nod, suddenly willing to do whatever she asks.
“Hands and knees then. No, other way. That’s it.”
With your head at the foot of the bed, she sits herself behind you. It feels strangely exposing this way, but any nervous anticipation melts away as her mouth drags over you. She spits, spreading the saliva with her tongue, and the sound of it is so filthy you gasp aloud.
She laughs into you, and when she sits back a sticky string clings between your cunt and her mouth. She plucks it with the tips of her fingers, smearing the fluid back over you, the warmth of her touch flaring the need inside you. She knows, of course, she knows you just as well as you know her, if not better. She kneels up, shifting her angle as she presses a finger inside you, slowly at first, peppering gentle kisses over your hips as she works.
“That’s it,” she hums low, adding a second, curling and twisting as your body relaxes. Had she kept going you would come from that alone, the slow, dragging thrusts fuelling the burning at your core. But she pulls them out, almost abruptly, and you are waiting to feel her press against you when she does something else. You hear her shift, and then she nudges your knees apart and threads her legs through yours, hands on your hips, pulling you up and back until you’re resting on your own thighs.
Then, her voice. Soft, so quiet it’s almost a growl.
“You gonna ride me like this? Let me see you come with my name on your back?”
You whine, inching back, allowing her to position your hips until the head of the strap brushes against you. You inhale sharply as she lets go, gravity coaxing the silicone inside you, weight dropping down gradually as your body adjusts.
You sit up, and back, the angle frankly delicious, and the thought of her looking up at you is like gasoline on an open flame. Initially you rock, strap buried to the hilt, grinding against her hard enough that she snarls and smacks your ass.
“Give me more than that.”
So you do. The drag as the strap pulls out of you is unholy, your eyes rolling back and a shudder reverberating through you as you inch up. When you let your weight fall back down, the slap of your ass against her thighs echoes in the room. You start slow, kneeling almost all the way up over and over, savouring the fullness as you sink into her again and again.
The restraint feels good, putting on a show for her- you hear her breath catch as you pull the elastic from your hair again, letting it tumble down your back, and then she mumbles something as you pull it all forward over one shoulder and grind down into her.
“What?” You breathe, pausing for a second to look back at her. She is propped up again, flushed and buzzing with energy. Her eyes are wide, and as you lean back against her, you press the base of the strap firm against her clit and halt the words in her mouth.
“You…” she starts, but the words taper off into a laugh as you roll your hips down. She bucks up beneath you in retaliation and knocks a gasp from your mouth. It feels insane, the force of her against you, and she knows it too- meeting every lift of your hips with her own, barely giving you a second to catch your breath. You are overwhelmed in that moment by everything about her; her skin, sweat slick against you, the pressure of her fingers against your hipbones, the hitch of her breath, the way she fills you so entirely.
She keeps you going as your legs begin to falter, the coil of tension inside your stomach getting hotter and tighter until it is too much to take. As it snaps and releases shuddering waves of ecstasy through you, your head falls back and a cry tears from your chest. She holds you firmly as you chase the shocks radiating through your core, steady and reassuring, hands unfaltering as she guides you.
Eventually you slump forward, forehead pressed to her knee, breathless and exhausted as she wriggles out from underneath you and slips off the bed. When you finally lift your head up she is standing with her back to you, untangling the straps of the harness, slow and methodical.
“You okay?” Renée turns when she hears you move, a gentle smile on her face. You allow your body to drop down onto the bed, resting your head on your arms, and look up at her. She comes to your side without you asking, softly tracing the letters on your back with her fingertip.
“Thank you for this, by the way.” She says, and when you catch her eye there’s a misty, emotional glaze in the way she looks at you.
“It means a lot. Today was huge, but coming home to you…” she tails off.
“Yeah, I know.” You roll onto your side, reaching up to drag her to you, kissing her deep and slow.
Summary: During a press conference after the semifinal victory against Italy, a journalist keeps pushing the narrative of a supposed rivalry between the Captain and Vice-Captain—who are actually girlfriends.
The night was thick, the sky dark over the arena, illuminated only by the stadium lights and the collective buzz of an England that had fought tooth and nail to secure their spot in the grand final. Leah and you still bore the marks of an intense match against Italy—damp hair, tense muscles, and adrenaline that refused to fade.
Right after the final whistle, both of you were called for the official press conference alongside Sarina. It was standard protocol, but this time, the atmosphere was different. The victory had been hard-fought, snatched in the dying minutes of extra time. The brief but intense celebration between the two of you hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Sitting side by side at the press table, Leah maintained her usual composed demeanor. You, still with damp hair from a rushed shower, rested your forearms on the table, attentive.
Sarina answered a few tactical questions calmly, until a reporter from the middle row raised her hand. She adjusted her glasses and pulled out a clipboard that looked more like a script disguised as an interrogation.
"Congratulations on the win," she began with a rehearsed smile. "But I’d like to address something beyond the pitch. There have been rumors behind the scenes about a possible rivalry between Leah and Y/N. Some even claim there were serious arguments in the locker room during the group stage, which supposedly cast doubt on your on-field relationship. Care to comment?"
A heavy silence fell like thick fog. Leah turned toward the reporter, her expression still calm, but her eyes slightly narrowed, betraying her irritation.
"Then you should check your sources," she replied firmly, her voice calm yet sharp as a blade. "Discussions happen when two invested people want what’s best for the team. But calling it a 'rivalry' is a stretch."
You felt heat crawl up your spine to your cheeks. That question wasn’t just invasive—it was malicious, an invitation for scandal. And no matter how much you and Leah had tried to keep your relationship away from the spotlight, that comment stirred something inside you.
"Actually," you said, straightening in your chair, "it’s not unusual for two people in a relationship to have disagreements. And if there’s any 'tension' between us, it’s because we care too much about this team… and about each other."
A weighted silence settled. Leah turned to look at you, surprised. It wasn’t a secret, but it had never been said out loud. The reporter smiled like she’d just struck gold.
"So, you’re confirming there’s something between you?"
Your breath grew heavier. You hesitated for a moment, but before you could answer, Leah laced her fingers with yours under the table.
"There are many things between us," she stated, locking eyes with the journalist. "Respect, friendship, partnership. And one shared goal: lifting that trophy. It wouldn’t make sense for me to have a conflict with my girlfriend and teammate. Does that answer your question?"
The reporter froze, eyes wide at the unexpected confirmation. Every camera in the room was now fixed on you two. And despite your racing hearts, you felt strangely at peace.
You turned slightly and pressed a quick kiss to Leah’s cheek. The captain smirked, still looking ahead.
"Now, if you have questions about the match, our strategy, or the final, we’re happy to answer. But if it’s about speculation or personal matters, this press conference is over," Leah said firmly.
Sarina suppressed a smile, proud of her players. The following questions returned to football, as they should have from the start. And when the presser ended, Leah and you walked side by side down the concrete hallway, steps steady—as if you’d already won something far greater than a match.
In the locker room, before rejoining the rest of the team, Leah took your hand once more.
"Do you have any idea what we just did?" Leah asked, laughing softly.
You arched a brow, teasing.
"I just gave an interview, love."
Leah chuckled, and before another word could be spoken, she pulled you into a quiet kiss—one that said the hardest part had already been spoken aloud.
