You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
One Shots
The more things change, the more they stay the same
You resent her. You resent football, the club, the move, the way she rewrites the same text a hundred times because she needs it to be perfect. But then she kisses you, and you remember why you've spent fourteen years setting yourself on fire.
Beyond the Badge | Alexia Putellas x reader - Part 4
Part 4
Summary : You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Real Madrid! Reader
Word count : 6.5k
Warnings : 18+ (smut), I won't put a warning for every chapter that contains some. I'm putting it on this one because it's the first one that does.
Masterlist
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You barely register the walk to her room. Your feet carry you there, through long corridors you learned by heart through the years. 119 is written in golden letters on a plate just next to the door, “Alexia Putellas” is taped up under it, as if to remind you what you’re walking into.
You don’t even overthink it. Your breathing is still ragged, you feel 30 seconds away from collapsing. You knock on the door, Alexia answers immediately, as if she has been waiting next to it. You don’t spare her a look and go lie down on the bed, throwing your slides on the floor. You put your head in the pillow and scream in frustration.
“Hey.” Alexia says softly. She comes to sit on the other side of the bed, close to you. She caresses your back up and down in comfort. “What’s wrong ?” You can hear the worry in her voice. To be fair, it must be confusing to her.
You groan and turn your head toward her. Her eyes are full of compassion. God, you love those eyes. “My agent called, about the contract.” You scrub a hand over your face. “I still have no freaking idea what I want to do.” You feel a lump in your throat, you absolutely won’t cry in front of her. Not because of a contract.
You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “Then there is the whole shitshow created by Vicky. I’m not literally mad at her but fuck with this whole contract thing it’s starting to be too much.” You’re rambling, she doesn’t stop you.
Her thumb traces slow circles between your shoulder blades, and it feels good, it’s grounding. You could get lost against the sensation, feeling the warmth of her palm even through your shirt.
“What can I do to help ?” Alexia is nice, too fucking nice. And her eyes are soft and–. “Hey, calm down, you’re shaking.” You haven’t even realized you were, you try to breathe in and out, it isn’t working much. She presses down her hand against your lower back, you shiver at the sensation.
She misinterprets your reaction and pulls her hand back slightly, hovering in a rare moment of awkwardness. She looks like she doesn’t know quite how to comfort you, and honestly, you can’t blame her.
You take a deep breath once your heartbeat stops pounding in your temple. “I’m sorry for coming here every time I’m overwhelmed.”
She furrows her eyebrows. “Hey no.” She says quickly. “You can come here anytime you need.”
The words land somewhere behind your ribs. Suddenly looking at her feels like a terrible idea. “What a good captain.” You deflect. How weird would it be for you to run away right now ? Because you definitely trust neither your instincts nor your mind right now.
She rolls her eyes, annoyed at you. “You know I’m not doing that just because I’m your captain.” You’re not that convinced it’s true. “And I have a single room, I'd be alone otherwise.”
You chuckle, starting to finally not feel like you’re gonna break down in an instant. “Oh yeah poor you, we can switch if it’s making you suffer too much.”
“We could.” Her tone is too serious for your liking.
“I was kidding Ale. I don’t have a problem with sharing my room.”
She searches your face, relaxing at whatever she finds there. She doesn’t push. “You’re feeling a bit better ?”
You nod, better because you don’t feel like you’re gonna implode. You can still feel how tense your body is. The conversation with your agent is playing on loop in your brain. Her presence is the only thing soothing your mind, you want to feel her palm against your back again.
Alexia still has a worried look, something in your chest goes soft at the sight. You look at her face, your mind can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is. Her eyes, her lips, the feeling of her body against yours after the game against England, the way she has been opening her door without question for you. The adrenaline of panic is morphing into something else.
You also need a distraction, badly.
“Do you want to help me make a very bad decision right now ?” Confusion is written all over her face. Then your gaze drops to her lips, completely devoid of subtlety, before snapping back to her eyes. You watch recognition flare in them, followed by something much heavier.
She seems to hesitate. “I don’t want to take advantage of the state you’re in,” she whispers. Her jaw tenses. She looks away, then back at you. For a second you feel a cold shiver, worried you’ve gone too far. Then her eyes can’t stop themselves from looking down at your lips, and you exhale.
“Ale.” Her eyes snap back to yours. She’s on the edge of a cliff, you need to convince her to jump. “It’s not the first time I’m thinking about it,” you admit.
Her throat bobs, her eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second. Then, the distance between you vanishes. Her lips are soft against yours. Instinct takes over, your hand flies to her jaw, your thumb tracing her cheekbone. It feels great, more than great. Your mind goes blank while butterflies explode in your stomach, heat rushes through you so quickly it leaves you lightheaded.
She breaks the kiss first. When your eyes open, she’s already staring down at you, searching. She is entirely breathtaking. A smile breaks across her face, wider and softer than any victory you’ve ever seen her celebrate on the pitch.
The first words she says are “You see I was right to be trying to fix everything from the start.” She seems happy with herself, the words take a moment to register.
Oh yeah, you did basically tell her she was too much of a try hard when captaining the team. You can’t believe she’s thinking about that right now. She adds smugly “I’m a great captain, ain’t I ?” You shut her up with a second kiss. She smiles against your lips before melting when she feels your tongue.
Somehow you end up in her lap, her hands firm against your hips, grabbing the fabric of your shirt. When the kiss breaks because you unfortunately are both humans that need air, you press open mouth kisses on her jaw. You then lick the length of it. Alexia murmurs a curse and you kiss her again.
You put a centimeter of space between your two mouths. “We both know why I’m doing this, I need to take my mind off things. I don’t get why you’re doing this.” You murmur against her lips. You need to know why, to be sure she wants this.
Alexia’s eyes are dark with want, her breathing uneven. You can’t even imagine what she looks like when she’s close to coming undone. You want to discover that. “Maybe I just want to fuck you.” Her voice is lower than usual. Your brain short-circuits. For a few seconds, there's nothing but a buzzing sound. That might be the hottest thing you’ve heard in your life. You weren’t expecting Alexia of all people to say that.
As soon as thoughts come back, you kiss her again, this time more hungrily, teeth clash but neither of you care. Her hands slide under your shirt. Her palms are warm, almost sweaty. The heat of her skin against yours makes you feel like you're completely overheating. You pull back just enough to yank the fabric over your head, tossing it blindly across the room.
Alexia's eyes fix on the newly revealed skin. She has seen you like that plenty of times in a locker room. You will admit the context is a bit different. “You’re beautiful,” she breathes out. She puts her hands on the small of your back to push you closer to her, soft with her movements. She is too when she discovers your neck with her mouth. She takes her time to figure out what you like, the spots that make your breath hitch. You hump against her thigh and you can feel her smile in your neck.
Deciding Alexia is wearing far too many clothes, you reach for the hem of her shirt. You both end up laughing as you awkwardly struggle with the fabric, but you finally manage to yank it off and toss it blindly into the room. Looking down at her, your smile turns hungry. She is nothing but muscle, and you want to feel every bit of it under your palms and lips. You catch her earlobe between your teeth in a gentle nip. “Everything still okay ?”
She laughs softly. “More than okay cariño.” You weren’t expecting the endearment term, but you don’t dislike it. Your mouth goes to her neck, and her breathing stops for a second or two. You test things. First, you bite softly and she lets out a small moan, so you do it more. Then, you realize kisses don’t have much effect, so you bite and lick instead. You’re very careful to not leave anything close to a mark, that would be very hard to explain for her.
“Lie down,” you murmur. She doesn't hesitate, shifting lower until she’s flat on the mattress. Straddling her hips, you look down at her. She is a glorious sight. As your hand strokes down her abs, she flexes beneath your touch. “Show off,” you tease, swatting at her playfully.
Her thighs spread, welcoming you into the space between them. As you lower yourself, you drag your teeth lightly along her collarbone. Her hips grind up against you in response, you anchor a hand firmly on her hip to pin her to the mattress.
You always love your first time with a woman because that’s when you totally discover her body. You take your sweet time with Alexia, and she’s not complaining. Her bra is on the floor a few minutes later. She has her hand in your hair while you’re worshiping her abs, to be fair they deserve it. You know she’s getting impatient when she starts to push your head down gently.
You smile and go lower. You remove her sweats and underwear in the same motion, the teasing has gone on long enough. You part her thighs and you’re out of words for how wet she is. “Don’t comment.” She groans out. You look up at her and her cheeks are pink, it’s kinda cute.
You honor her request and stay quiet. Instead of stopping the tease like you promised yourself, you trail slow licks and sharp bites down the inside of her thighs. Her muscles twitch against your lips. The moment you move directly over her heat, her body tenses in stark anticipation, your breath catching against her cunt.
When you finally comply and lick, her whole body reacts. Her hips jump up and you put your forearm around her midriff to stop that from happening again. Her moan is low, throaty, and dangerously loud considering your surroundings. “Ale, I love that sound,” you murmur against her skin, smoothing a kiss into her inner thigh, “but you can’t be this loud here.” Without a word, she pulls a pillow over her face to bury the noise. Fuck, you miss the sound already.
Navigating her pleasure is harder in the silence, but you read her body instead. The way her hand knots into your hair, the sudden, sharp tension in her muscles. You lose all sense of time, you could spend a lifetime right here. Every low rumble buried in the pillow urges you onward. You press a single finger to her entrance, looking up to catch her eye. “Can I ?”
She gets the pillow away from her face for a second. “You don’t need to ask.” Her voice is a mess, low, hoarse, broken, you can’t believe you’ve done it. She’s pushing your head down to where it was before. Your finger enters her without any resistance, you can tell she’s already really close. You immediately enter a second one.
Her walls pulse around your fingers while your tongue keeps up its steady rhythm. It doesn’t take long for her to completely break. You feel the exact moment she comes undone. Her hips arch high against your mouth, chasing the friction, before she collapses back against the sheets. Not even the pillow can swallow the raw, broken cry she lets out.
You remove your fingers gently and move back up her body, leaving a wet trail while doing so. The pillow falls away from her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes still unfocused. You kiss her once, brief and soft, then again on her shoulder, tracing the curve of her waist while her breathing slowly settles.
As you linger over her shoulder, she hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at her. You can’t help the smile that breaks against her lips as you lean in. “You’re too smug,” she complains, though she doesn't pull away.
You kiss the line of her jaw and go to her ear. “You were so loud you needed a pillow to muffle your moans.” You say, your voice intentionally low, before tugging at the lobe with your teeth. She has an arm around your shoulders, her fingers dig into it at your words and you hiss because her nails are pointy.
You position yourselves on your arms so you can look down at her. “Do you still carry a strap in your suitcase ?” She rolls her eyes and swats at your shoulder while murmuring idiot. “Hey that was a genuine question.”
Her cheeks are tinted a bit pink, not from her orgasm. “I don’t have one at all times no. For quite obvious reasons I wasn’t planning to get lucky during camp.” You hum and press your mouth to the hollow of her throat, feeling the frantic pulse against your lips.
“So you were planning to get lucky during your trip to Valencia ?” It’s half teasing and half genuine curiosity. Her breath catches when you scrape your teeth against her pulse point while your right hand starts to travel down her body, she shivers when you trace her ribs. You use your left arm to not put your whole weight on her.
“Yeah, I have a girl I was seeing– Fuck.” She stops when your hand reaches the inside of her thigh and your short nails dig into the soft flesh there. You smile against her shoulder and bite it. “Why are you asking these questions right now ?” She complains.
Your hand moves between her legs, your index finger tests how wet she still is, careful to still avoid her clit for now. She’s drenched, some new wetness already coating your fingers. “Maybe I just want to hear your voice.” It’s also some curiosity that came after Vicky told you the story. You’re quite satisfied that Alexia used the past tense when talking about the girl. You won’t dwell on that, not now, not anytime really.
Shifting downward, your mouth finds her breast, swirling your tongue over her skin before pulling her into your mouth. She clamps her forearm over her face, desperately hiding her moans. You let her go with a slow, teasing drag of your teeth. She drops her arm just long enough to glare at you. “I can’t believe that’s your choice of conversation.”
Your fingers toy with her entrance, brushing past her wetness but deliberately withholding what she wants. “I think that's a perfectly appropriate topic. I would love to use a strap on you.” The sheer bluntness of it makes her breath hitch. Before she can recover, you finally sink your fingers inside her, drawing out a low, throaty moan.
It takes her a moment to collect herself enough to talk back. “I had no idea you would be such a yapper.” You chuckle against her skin, raising some goosebumps as your tongue moves to her other breast. This time she anticipates the touch, quickly burying her face in her arm to muffle the sound. It’s a shame, you don’t want any teammates hearing you through the walls, but god, you want to hear her.
Your mouth travels up her chest, a sharp bite to her forearm prompting her to uncover her face. “Imagined sex with me a lot, Putellas ?” You don’t give her a chance to answer as your fingers start moving inside her again, catching her gasp with a kiss. You track her reactions through pure instinct, the intakes of breath when you do certain movements, her fingers gripping your hip every time you hit that spot.
The kisses start to get messy the moment your thumb grazes her clit. She loses her composure completely, unraveling into a mix of breathless Catalan you don’t understand and raw noises you can’t hope to muffle. To quiet her down, you press closer, offering your shoulder for her to bite. It makes the movements a little clumsy, the angle a bit awkward, but you maneuver around it, keeping your fingers moving in a steady rhythm.
You will be able to hide the bruise on your shoulder, but your back is going to be a disaster if she keeps clawing at your skin. “Easy with the nails, tiger,” you gasp against her hair, “you’ll leave marks.” She doesn’t say anything, but she takes the hint, wrapping her hands back around your hips and smoothing her palms flat against your skin.
Her teeth on your shoulder sting, but it’s the kind of sharp pain that only feeds the pleasure. Sensing how close she is, you lock into the rhythm, driving into what’s working. Then, she snaps. Her body arches in a mirror image of her first orgasm, her teeth sinking agonizingly deep into your shoulder as she clamps down impossibly tight around your fingers. A second later, just like that, the tension breaks, and she falls quiet against the bed.
You’re careful when you remove your fingers. Alexia still has her eyes shut, breathing heavily, her whole body covered in sweat. You want to take a mental picture because she looks like a work of art. You’re proud to have done it.
She comes back to her senses slowly. When her eyes finally open, you hold her gaze and make a show of sucking your soaked fingers, drawing a breathless laugh from her. But as her eyes drift to your shoulder, her smile fades into a wince. “I didn’t realize I was biting so hard. I’m sorry,” she says softly, tracing her thumb over the rapidly forming bruise.
“Don't worry. If it had been too much, I would've told you,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her gently. Her breathing is finally evening out, her skin growing cooler and less flushed as the adrenaline begins to fade.
Her gaze drifts down your body, her eyebrows arching. “How the hell do you still have so many clothes?” she asks. You shrug, looking down at your intact bra and sweatpants. You hadn’t really noticed the layers while your focus was entirely on making her come, but now that the dust has settled, a heavy, demanding ache is building between your thighs.
“It’s supposed to be your job to remove them,” you tease. “You’re not even the one who removed my shirt.”
An arm locks around your hips as she suddenly reverses your positions, settling herself firmly on top of you. “I had no idea you would be such a brat in bed.” Letting out a soft laugh, you guide her jaw down to meet your mouth, biting gently at her bottom lip before releasing it.
You lick her lips teasingly. “You don’t seem to mind it much.”
“I’m gonna shut you up,” she promises, her breath hot against your lips. She presses a hard kiss to your mouth, then drags her lips down your jaw to the hollow of your neck. Her untied hair brushes softly over your collarbone.
She starts nipping too hard against the sensitive skin, forcing a hiss from your throat. “Hey, easier on the teeth. I don’t mind them later on, but it’s too much right now.” She breathes an apology against your throat, instantly adjusting. Driven by the ache between your legs, you push down on her shoulder. “Ale, hurry up.” Before you can move her, she grabs your wrist, holding you completely still.
“Let me enjoy you,” she retorts, her mouth lingering at the top of your chest. Your throat goes completely dry. Looking down at her, you realize you would let Alexia do absolutely whatever she wants to you.
Then, she abruptly sits up. “I need a hair tie.” You let out a miserable groan at the sudden loss of her weight on top of you as she pads toward the bathroom. In the sudden quiet, a flicker of doubt creeps in about what the hell you’re doing. It evaporates the second she steps back out, twisting her hair into a messy bun. You take the opportunity to shamelessly drink in the sight of her naked body. Fuck, she’s a goddess.
She climbs back over you, settling into her position on top while you loop your arms securely around her shoulders. Her mouth returns to the top of your chest, but she pauses, looking up at you as her fingers play with the clasp of your bra, silently waiting for your consent. A single nod is all it takes, and she doesn’t waste a second.
Her grin turns almost boyish as she unhooks the fabric, stripping your bra away and tossing it aside. “You’re gorgeous,” she whispers against your skin before drawing one of your nipples into her mouth. Your back arches instinctively at the sudden rush of pleasure, prompting her to press a heavy hand down to steady your hips. She takes her time painting your chest with her tongue, sending waves of heat rippling through your entire body.
When she finally migrates lower, she stops at your stomach, mapping your abs with a slow, passionate mix of lips and tongue. “I have better abs than you, don’t I?” you tease, panting slightly. In lieu of an answer, she presses her thigh firmly up between your legs. The sound you let out is close to a whimper, but nobody can prove it.
“Seems like I found a way to shut you up,” she teases back. She bites gently at your stomach, testing your reaction. The desperate way you grind your hips against her thigh in response seems to give her all the satisfaction she needs.
Her hand toys with the waistband of your sweats. “Don't be a tease,” you breathe out. She tugs them down the moment you lift your hips to help her, discarding the fabric somewhere in the room. A sharp gasp escapes your lips when the chill of the A/C strikes your flushed skin.
Alexia parts your thighs with her hands, her gaze darkening. “Fuck, you’re wet. Are you turned on by your own talking ?”
You let out a breathy laugh at her words. “Your lips and tongue may have played some part too,” you admit.
She looks up at you with a radiant smile, she kisses a tender spot above your knee, her palms sliding up your inner thighs. But as her fingers start to graze your center, you grip her wrist, holding her back. Alexia instantly freezes, concern replacing the heat in her dark, dilated eyes. “Is everything okay ?”
You’re deeply touched by her immediate softness. “Yes, amor,” you murmur, the pet name slipping out naturally in your eagerness to reassure her. “It’s just that those nails aren’t going inside me.” Alexia looks down at her hands and winces in realization. The press-ons are long, and they’re the kind of pointy you don’t want to take any risks with.
“I know how to use them, it won’t hurt,” she promises softly.
You look down at her hands again. A girl had told you that exact same thing once, and you’d ended up sidelined for a week. Having to explain that particular injury to the club physios was easily the most humiliating moment of your life. “Still a no,” you state firmly.
She nods, letting the matter drop without any further argument. “If I’d known this was happening, I would have taken them off,” she whines.
Sorry Alexia, next time I will tell you in advance “Hey just so you know in a few hours I’m gonna be mad enough to fuck someone I absolutely shouldn’t be fucking.
You push the intrusive thought far away before it can ruin the momentum. Instead, you cup her chin with your right hand, tilting her face up to force her to look at you while your thumb caresses her cheek. “You do realize you have other ways to pleasure me besides your fingers, right ?”
A small fire relights in her eyes as a wicked smile creeps across her face. She plants one last kiss above your knee, her lips trailing a slow path back up your inner thigh before she finally settles herself between your legs. Strands of loose hair escape her bun, brushing softly against your skin. When she finally looks up at you, her expression is completely sinful.
“What do you want ?” She’s so close that the warm air of her breath brushes against your skin as she speaks, making you shudder.
“What do think, Alexia ?” you reply, thoroughly exasperated. Of all the times for her to play dumb, she picks right now.
“I don’t know,” she whispers, refusing to break eye contact. Her nails trail a light, maddening scratch across your abs, driving you absolutely crazy. “Want to play some poker ?”
“I think it’s a bit too late for strip poker, Ale.” You know exactly what she wants, she's waiting for you to ask her to eat you out. But two can play this game.
The low huff of her laughter sends a rush of warm air over your center, making you twitch. “I won’t get you to beg for it ?” She mocks disappointment, but the playful glint in her eyes tells you she’s secretly thrilled by your resistance. Sliding her palm upward, she presses it flat against your sternum, feeling your heart hammering wildly beneath her touch. Despite your defiant words, she knows exactly what kind of effect she has on you.
“You’ll need to do better than that next time, Capi.” You don’t know if it’s the challenge, the promise of a next time, or the deliberate use of her title that makes something snap inside her. Frankly, you don't care, because her tongue finally connects with your clit. You aren't usually the loudest, but the sudden contact forces a low, trembling moan from your throat.
“Careful of the noise, cariño,” she murmurs against your skin. In response, you press your heel firmly into her spine, pushing her back down between your thighs to make her understand she needs to get to work. A muffled huff of laughter escapes her against your sensitive skin, entirely amused by your impatience.
As she goes down on you, you guide her rhythm, adjusting her pace with a mix of breathless words and guiding hands. She is incredibly good at following orders, you quickly realize. The sensation of her mouth feels so much better than any of the thoughts you're trying to outrun. Tangling your fingers into the loose strands of her bun, you cup the back of her neck, tugging sharply whenever she hits the perfect spot. Meanwhile, your free hand blindly traces the sharp line of her jaw, mapping its rhythm as she drives you out of your mind.
Once you start getting close, you whisper, “Look at me.” The raw heat in her eyes is almost enough to push you over the edge on its own. When she begins to lower her gaze to bury herself back between your thighs, you command, “No, look at me while you do it.”
You refuse to break eye contact. The hand on her jaw shifts to the side of her face. Initially meant to direct her, it’s now the only thing keeping you anchored. Your other hand fists blindly into the sheets, white-knuckled and straining. Even though there is zero risk of her pulling away, your heels remain locked against her lower back, pinning her right where you want her.
You know she feels it the exact second your orgasm hits. It starts with a ragged gasp before you completely run out of air, your thighs locking tight as an electric rush fires through every cell of your body. She guides you through the crest of it, her tongue never missing a beat.
The moment it threatens to turn into overstimulation, you tap her cheek, and she gets the memo instantly. She trails slow, soothing kisses up your torso until her mouth meets yours, tasting yourself on her lips. You loop your arms around her shoulders, holding her steady while her head sinks into the crook of your neck as you slowly float back down to reality.
As your heart rate finally settles, you start tracing the exposed tattoos on her back with your fingertips. You don’t ask about their meanings, and she seems perfectly content with the quiet intimacy for a few minutes. “I’m gonna fall asleep,” she whispers, her breath warm against your neck.
You kiss the crown of her head, and she burrows deeper into your side. “We should at least take a shower,” you murmur. She groans in protest, even though she knows you’re right. “Come on, Capi.” You give her ass a light, playful slap to tell her it's time to move, and she instantly nips at your neck in revenge. Laughing, you untangle yourself from her and stand up. Left without your warmth, it doesn’t take her long to follow your lead.
Getting clean takes a while, given how much kissing and touching happens under the water, but you eventually finish. You quickly discover that Alexia is a massive cuddler after sex, and you find yourself liking it a lot. It takes zero convincing on her part to get you to spend the night. She offers you some of her clothes to sleep in, but you almost left the room entirely when she tried to hand you a pair of Barça shorts. Plain cotton ones had to do instead.
You settle onto the bed, laying back with her resting on top of you just like before. Her hair is untied now, draping over her bare back as you slowly run your fingers through the damp strands. “I still find it so funny that you’re such a yapper in the bedroom when you’re not like that at all in real life,” she teases softly.
A sudden wave of self-consciousness hits you, even though you know it’s stupid. “Tell me if you want me to tone it down,” you say, though it sounds a bit more broken than intended. Some of your exes hated that, and you had to make conscious efforts to tone it down with them, so you know you can.
Alexia instantly shifts from her comfortable spot against your chest to look you in the eyes. “Hey, it wasn’t a criticism. I think it’s incredibly hot.” She presses a tender kiss to your cheek, then another to your lips. You could easily get used to this. Fuck, that's a dangerous thought. Suddenly, her gaze drifts to your shoulder and she winces. “Are you sure my biting didn’t hurt too much? It looks pretty bad.”
“I already told you it was okay Ale.” You put your hand around her hips and tug her back down on top of you. “I will figure something out to hide it.”
Neither of you asks what tonight means, or if it will ever happen again. There is no easy answer to that. Or, at least, none that would satisfy either of you right now. It’s still early, considering you arrived just after dinner, but exhaustion is finally catching up to you.
You’re already starting to drift off when Alexia shatters the quiet by bringing up the one topic you wanted to avoid. “You should really start talking about your contract, you know,” she says softly. “Not necessarily with me, but if you just let the clock run out without weighing your options, you're going to regret it. Even if you would have chosen Real anyway.”
You let out a long sigh. Maybe it’s because you’re in a great mood after the sex, but your mouth talks for you. “It’s just… It feels like there is what I want to do and there is the rational thing to do.”
Alexia hums in acknowledgement. “I feel like the heart should always beat the reason. But that’s particularly true in your situation.” Maybe Alexia is an idealist, you’re not. You’re so fucking afraid of making the wrong choice.
“I feel like my heart is telling me to stay just because it’s safe, not because it’s the best choice.” Staying at Madrid where friends, family, and your childhood club are is just so easy. You’re not sure it’s what’s best for your career.
“You’re looking at it too much like there is a good and a wrong answer.” Her tone is soft, her thumb is caressing your side, the words still sting. “Career choices are rarely that easy. You have to choose what is the most likely to make you the happiest in the long run. And that depends on a ton of things : winning trophies, money, closeness to family and friends, the atmosphere in the club you’re joining, the city you’re going to. And happiness isn’t a perfect equation, especially when it’s related to football where results can’t be predicted. You can make the right choice on paper and have it end up being the wrong one because life happens.”
“Very reassuring.” You say ironically. Alexia is trying and you’re maybe being a little too mean. “Thank you, for the words. I think I have trouble figuring out how happy football can make me.” That’s not an admission you make often. You love football with your whole heart, you’re not sure you want it to be your whole life.
“What do you mean ?” You can hear she’s perplexed, it must be confusing for Alexia to hear someone say that.
“It’s just… I’ve never won at club level, so I don’t know how much winning makes it worth it. I’ve also never been the closest of friends with my teammates. Like yeah, I will hang out with them outside of the mandatory things from time to time, but I don’t want my whole circle to be about it. In Madrid, most of the people I hang out with don’t give a fuck about football. I feel like having a life outside of it makes it easier to commit to it when I’m actually on the pitch or training. Like it’s easier to not burn out.”
That’s why I never messed with another footballer before, you add mentally.
You continue. “Munich was miserable for that. I didn’t really realize it at the time because I couldn’t compare. But god, I’ve been so much happier in Madrid. At the same time maybe it was only the context, maybe I was too young when I went to Bayern. It would be perfect if there was another club in Spain I could go to, so I could still be fairly close to everyone. But I’m never going to Barcelona.”
“I mean you could consider it.” You roll your eyes and gently bite her earlobe, she jumps in surprise. “Idiot.” She mumbles.
“I think… I would love to experience somewhere else, just for one year and if I’m miserable, I can go back. But I’m afraid of burning bridges with Real. And I’m afraid that they’re gonna perform while I’m gone. Imagine if Real reaches the semis of the Champions League the season I’m not here ? I would be miserable. Why can’t I fucking duplicate myself.”
She laughs softly at your words. Then takes a more serious tone. “You’re linking the comfortable choice with it being the bad choice. As you said, football isn’t what you are.” She takes a deep breath. “Everyone tells me football is too much what I am, you know. Even Jenni told me that.” Her laugh is almost bitter. “Olga told me that all the time too.”
“Wait, Olga as in our teammate, since when ?” You interrupt, trying to make some sense.
“No !” She laughs. “Olga is the name of my ex, she has nothing to do with football.” That was an awkward mistake to make on your part. “Anyway, my injury forced me to reconsider things. I was actually more available for my friends and family, hanging out with them more. I realized everything I was missing out on because of football. It’s so easy to get caught up with the constant pressure from everyone : the media, the fans, the front office…”
“Do you think you would have left Barça at one point, if not for the injury ?” You’re curious.
“Yeah.” She answers honestly. “And then I would have realized everything that’s not football that I have in Barcelona.” There’s a pause. “To be clear, I’m not saying our situations are entirely comparable. I have the luck that my childhood city also has the best club in Europe. It’s easier to stay when you’re winning everything, it would be stupid not to. I just wanted to say to not push aside too much the outside of football aspects when taking the decision.”
“Thank you, a lot.” You say sincerely. You kiss the top of her head. “I think it really helps to talk about it, it’s just hard to.”
“Anytime.” She answers without hesitation. She snuggles even closer to you. “We should go to sleep.”
You look at your phone, it’s only 10PM, why did you decide to be a professional athlete again ? “Yeah, I will put my alarm early so I can go back to my room with Vicky before she wakes up. I will just tell her I came back late in the night.”
“Okay,” Alexia says softly. She moves to turn off the bedside lamps as you set up the alarm to 6AM. Once the room is dark, she gets back to her previous position on top of you. She kisses you, a long one but without heat behind it, before her head settles on your shoulder. One of your arms circles her waist, while the other circles her shoulders. “Goodnight cariño,” she whispers.
“Goodnight Ale,” you whisper back. In the back of your mind, a million alarm bells are screaming at you, a frantic reminder of just how compromising this situation truly is. But exhaustion has taken over. Wrapped up in her warmth, you let her touch drown out the noise until there is nothing left but silence.
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A/n : It was my first time writing smut, I'm quite happy with how it turned out (Don't ask me how much time I spent writing and rewriting it, I know the whole scene by heart now). I hope it doesn't feel too rushed.
Also because it has been a subject recently, having short/long nails doesn't correlate to being a lesbian and/or in a relationship. r just doesn't like the idea of them inside her ✌️
I can already see the edits with videos from the past 10 years of them playing with and against each other with some dramatic love song in the background
Beyond the Badge | Alexia Putellas x reader - Part 4
Part 4
Summary : You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Real Madrid! Reader
Word count : 6.5k
Warnings : 18+ (smut), I won't put a warning for every chapter that contains some. I'm putting it on this one because it's the first one that does.
Masterlist
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You barely register the walk to her room. Your feet carry you there, through long corridors you learned by heart through the years. 119 is written in golden letters on a plate just next to the door, “Alexia Putellas” is taped up under it, as if to remind you what you’re walking into.
You don’t even overthink it. Your breathing is still ragged, you feel 30 seconds away from collapsing. You knock on the door, Alexia answers immediately, as if she has been waiting next to it. You don’t spare her a look and go lie down on the bed, throwing your slides on the floor. You put your head in the pillow and scream in frustration.
“Hey.” Alexia says softly. She comes to sit on the other side of the bed, close to you. She caresses your back up and down in comfort. “What’s wrong ?” You can hear the worry in her voice. To be fair, it must be confusing to her.
You groan and turn your head toward her. Her eyes are full of compassion. God, you love those eyes. “My agent called, about the contract.” You scrub a hand over your face. “I still have no freaking idea what I want to do.” You feel a lump in your throat, you absolutely won’t cry in front of her. Not because of a contract.
You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “Then there is the whole shitshow created by Vicky. I’m not literally mad at her but fuck with this whole contract thing it’s starting to be too much.” You’re rambling, she doesn’t stop you.
Her thumb traces slow circles between your shoulder blades, and it feels good, it’s grounding. You could get lost against the sensation, feeling the warmth of her palm even through your shirt.
“What can I do to help ?” Alexia is nice, too fucking nice. And her eyes are soft and–. “Hey, calm down, you’re shaking.” You haven’t even realized you were, you try to breathe in and out, it isn’t working much. She presses down her hand against your lower back, you shiver at the sensation.
She misinterprets your reaction and pulls her hand back slightly, hovering in a rare moment of awkwardness. She looks like she doesn’t know quite how to comfort you, and honestly, you can’t blame her.
You take a deep breath once your heartbeat stops pounding in your temple. “I’m sorry for coming here every time I’m overwhelmed.”
She furrows her eyebrows. “Hey no.” She says quickly. “You can come here anytime you need.”
The words land somewhere behind your ribs. Suddenly looking at her feels like a terrible idea. “What a good captain.” You deflect. How weird would it be for you to run away right now ? Because you definitely trust neither your instincts nor your mind right now.
She rolls her eyes, annoyed at you. “You know I’m not doing that just because I’m your captain.” You’re not that convinced it’s true. “And I have a single room, I'd be alone otherwise.”
You chuckle, starting to finally not feel like you’re gonna break down in an instant. “Oh yeah poor you, we can switch if it’s making you suffer too much.”
“We could.” Her tone is too serious for your liking.
“I was kidding Ale. I don’t have a problem with sharing my room.”
She searches your face, relaxing at whatever she finds there. She doesn’t push. “You’re feeling a bit better ?”
You nod, better because you don’t feel like you’re gonna implode. You can still feel how tense your body is. The conversation with your agent is playing on loop in your brain. Her presence is the only thing soothing your mind, you want to feel her palm against your back again.
Alexia still has a worried look, something in your chest goes soft at the sight. You look at her face, your mind can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is. Her eyes, her lips, the feeling of her body against yours after the game against England, the way she has been opening her door without question for you. The adrenaline of panic is morphing into something else.
You also need a distraction, badly.
“Do you want to help me make a very bad decision right now ?” Confusion is written all over her face. Then your gaze drops to her lips, completely devoid of subtlety, before snapping back to her eyes. You watch recognition flare in them, followed by something much heavier.
She seems to hesitate. “I don’t want to take advantage of the state you’re in,” she whispers. Her jaw tenses. She looks away, then back at you. For a second you feel a cold shiver, worried you’ve gone too far. Then her eyes can’t stop themselves from looking down at your lips, and you exhale.
“Ale.” Her eyes snap back to yours. She’s on the edge of a cliff, you need to convince her to jump. “It’s not the first time I’m thinking about it,” you admit.
Her throat bobs, her eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second. Then, the distance between you vanishes. Her lips are soft against yours. Instinct takes over, your hand flies to her jaw, your thumb tracing her cheekbone. It feels great, more than great. Your mind goes blank while butterflies explode in your stomach, heat rushes through you so quickly it leaves you lightheaded.
She breaks the kiss first. When your eyes open, she’s already staring down at you, searching. She is entirely breathtaking. A smile breaks across her face, wider and softer than any victory you’ve ever seen her celebrate on the pitch.
The first words she says are “You see I was right to be trying to fix everything from the start.” She seems happy with herself, the words take a moment to register.
Oh yeah, you did basically tell her she was too much of a try hard when captaining the team. You can’t believe she’s thinking about that right now. She adds smugly “I’m a great captain, ain’t I ?” You shut her up with a second kiss. She smiles against your lips before melting when she feels your tongue.
Somehow you end up in her lap, her hands firm against your hips, grabbing the fabric of your shirt. When the kiss breaks because you unfortunately are both humans that need air, you press open mouth kisses on her jaw. You then lick the length of it. Alexia murmurs a curse and you kiss her again.
You put a centimeter of space between your two mouths. “We both know why I’m doing this, I need to take my mind off things. I don’t get why you’re doing this.” You murmur against her lips. You need to know why, to be sure she wants this.
Alexia’s eyes are dark with want, her breathing uneven. You can’t even imagine what she looks like when she’s close to coming undone. You want to discover that. “Maybe I just want to fuck you.” Her voice is lower than usual. Your brain short-circuits. For a few seconds, there's nothing but a buzzing sound. That might be the hottest thing you’ve heard in your life. You weren’t expecting Alexia of all people to say that.
As soon as thoughts come back, you kiss her again, this time more hungrily, teeth clash but neither of you care. Her hands slide under your shirt. Her palms are warm, almost sweaty. The heat of her skin against yours makes you feel like you're completely overheating. You pull back just enough to yank the fabric over your head, tossing it blindly across the room.
Alexia's eyes fix on the newly revealed skin. She has seen you like that plenty of times in a locker room. You will admit the context is a bit different. “You’re beautiful,” she breathes out. She puts her hands on the small of your back to push you closer to her, soft with her movements. She is too when she discovers your neck with her mouth. She takes her time to figure out what you like, the spots that make your breath hitch. You hump against her thigh and you can feel her smile in your neck.
Deciding Alexia is wearing far too many clothes, you reach for the hem of her shirt. You both end up laughing as you awkwardly struggle with the fabric, but you finally manage to yank it off and toss it blindly into the room. Looking down at her, your smile turns hungry. She is nothing but muscle, and you want to feel every bit of it under your palms and lips. You catch her earlobe between your teeth in a gentle nip. “Everything still okay ?”
She laughs softly. “More than okay cariño.” You weren’t expecting the endearment term, but you don’t dislike it. Your mouth goes to her neck, and her breathing stops for a second or two. You test things. First, you bite softly and she lets out a small moan, so you do it more. Then, you realize kisses don’t have much effect, so you bite and lick instead. You’re very careful to not leave anything close to a mark, that would be very hard to explain for her.
“Lie down,” you murmur. She doesn't hesitate, shifting lower until she’s flat on the mattress. Straddling her hips, you look down at her. She is a glorious sight. As your hand strokes down her abs, she flexes beneath your touch. “Show off,” you tease, swatting at her playfully.
Her thighs spread, welcoming you into the space between them. As you lower yourself, you drag your teeth lightly along her collarbone. Her hips grind up against you in response, you anchor a hand firmly on her hip to pin her to the mattress.
You always love your first time with a woman because that’s when you totally discover her body. You take your sweet time with Alexia, and she’s not complaining. Her bra is on the floor a few minutes later. She has her hand in your hair while you’re worshiping her abs, to be fair they deserve it. You know she’s getting impatient when she starts to push your head down gently.
You smile and go lower. You remove her sweats and underwear in the same motion, the teasing has gone on long enough. You part her thighs and you’re out of words for how wet she is. “Don’t comment.” She groans out. You look up at her and her cheeks are pink, it’s kinda cute.
You honor her request and stay quiet. Instead of stopping the tease like you promised yourself, you trail slow licks and sharp bites down the inside of her thighs. Her muscles twitch against your lips. The moment you move directly over her heat, her body tenses in stark anticipation, your breath catching against her cunt.
When you finally comply and lick, her whole body reacts. Her hips jump up and you put your forearm around her midriff to stop that from happening again. Her moan is low, throaty, and dangerously loud considering your surroundings. “Ale, I love that sound,” you murmur against her skin, smoothing a kiss into her inner thigh, “but you can’t be this loud here.” Without a word, she pulls a pillow over her face to bury the noise. Fuck, you miss the sound already.
Navigating her pleasure is harder in the silence, but you read her body instead. The way her hand knots into your hair, the sudden, sharp tension in her muscles. You lose all sense of time, you could spend a lifetime right here. Every low rumble buried in the pillow urges you onward. You press a single finger to her entrance, looking up to catch her eye. “Can I ?”
She gets the pillow away from her face for a second. “You don’t need to ask.” Her voice is a mess, low, hoarse, broken, you can’t believe you’ve done it. She’s pushing your head down to where it was before. Your finger enters her without any resistance, you can tell she’s already really close. You immediately enter a second one.
Her walls pulse around your fingers while your tongue keeps up its steady rhythm. It doesn’t take long for her to completely break. You feel the exact moment she comes undone. Her hips arch high against your mouth, chasing the friction, before she collapses back against the sheets. Not even the pillow can swallow the raw, broken cry she lets out.
You remove your fingers gently and move back up her body, leaving a wet trail while doing so. The pillow falls away from her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes still unfocused. You kiss her once, brief and soft, then again on her shoulder, tracing the curve of her waist while her breathing slowly settles.
As you linger over her shoulder, she hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at her. You can’t help the smile that breaks against her lips as you lean in. “You’re too smug,” she complains, though she doesn't pull away.
You kiss the line of her jaw and go to her ear. “You were so loud you needed a pillow to muffle your moans.” You say, your voice intentionally low, before tugging at the lobe with your teeth. She has an arm around your shoulders, her fingers dig into it at your words and you hiss because her nails are pointy.
You position yourselves on your arms so you can look down at her. “Do you still carry a strap in your suitcase ?” She rolls her eyes and swats at your shoulder while murmuring idiot. “Hey that was a genuine question.”
Her cheeks are tinted a bit pink, not from her orgasm. “I don’t have one at all times no. For quite obvious reasons I wasn’t planning to get lucky during camp.” You hum and press your mouth to the hollow of her throat, feeling the frantic pulse against your lips.
“So you were planning to get lucky during your trip to Valencia ?” It’s half teasing and half genuine curiosity. Her breath catches when you scrape your teeth against her pulse point while your right hand starts to travel down her body, she shivers when you trace her ribs. You use your left arm to not put your whole weight on her.
“Yeah, I have a girl I was seeing– Fuck.” She stops when your hand reaches the inside of her thigh and your short nails dig into the soft flesh there. You smile against her shoulder and bite it. “Why are you asking these questions right now ?” She complains.
Your hand moves between her legs, your index finger tests how wet she still is, careful to still avoid her clit for now. She’s drenched, some new wetness already coating your fingers. “Maybe I just want to hear your voice.” It’s also some curiosity that came after Vicky told you the story. You’re quite satisfied that Alexia used the past tense when talking about the girl. You won’t dwell on that, not now, not anytime really.
Shifting downward, your mouth finds her breast, swirling your tongue over her skin before pulling her into your mouth. She clamps her forearm over her face, desperately hiding her moans. You let her go with a slow, teasing drag of your teeth. She drops her arm just long enough to glare at you. “I can’t believe that’s your choice of conversation.”
Your fingers toy with her entrance, brushing past her wetness but deliberately withholding what she wants. “I think that's a perfectly appropriate topic. I would love to use a strap on you.” The sheer bluntness of it makes her breath hitch. Before she can recover, you finally sink your fingers inside her, drawing out a low, throaty moan.
It takes her a moment to collect herself enough to talk back. “I had no idea you would be such a yapper.” You chuckle against her skin, raising some goosebumps as your tongue moves to her other breast. This time she anticipates the touch, quickly burying her face in her arm to muffle the sound. It’s a shame, you don’t want any teammates hearing you through the walls, but god, you want to hear her.
Your mouth travels up her chest, a sharp bite to her forearm prompting her to uncover her face. “Imagined sex with me a lot, Putellas ?” You don’t give her a chance to answer as your fingers start moving inside her again, catching her gasp with a kiss. You track her reactions through pure instinct, the intakes of breath when you do certain movements, her fingers gripping your hip every time you hit that spot.
The kisses start to get messy the moment your thumb grazes her clit. She loses her composure completely, unraveling into a mix of breathless Catalan you don’t understand and raw noises you can’t hope to muffle. To quiet her down, you press closer, offering your shoulder for her to bite. It makes the movements a little clumsy, the angle a bit awkward, but you maneuver around it, keeping your fingers moving in a steady rhythm.
You will be able to hide the bruise on your shoulder, but your back is going to be a disaster if she keeps clawing at your skin. “Easy with the nails, tiger,” you gasp against her hair, “you’ll leave marks.” She doesn’t say anything, but she takes the hint, wrapping her hands back around your hips and smoothing her palms flat against your skin.
Her teeth on your shoulder sting, but it’s the kind of sharp pain that only feeds the pleasure. Sensing how close she is, you lock into the rhythm, driving into what’s working. Then, she snaps. Her body arches in a mirror image of her first orgasm, her teeth sinking agonizingly deep into your shoulder as she clamps down impossibly tight around your fingers. A second later, just like that, the tension breaks, and she falls quiet against the bed.
You’re careful when you remove your fingers. Alexia still has her eyes shut, breathing heavily, her whole body covered in sweat. You want to take a mental picture because she looks like a work of art. You’re proud to have done it.
She comes back to her senses slowly. When her eyes finally open, you hold her gaze and make a show of sucking your soaked fingers, drawing a breathless laugh from her. But as her eyes drift to your shoulder, her smile fades into a wince. “I didn’t realize I was biting so hard. I’m sorry,” she says softly, tracing her thumb over the rapidly forming bruise.
“Don't worry. If it had been too much, I would've told you,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her gently. Her breathing is finally evening out, her skin growing cooler and less flushed as the adrenaline begins to fade.
Her gaze drifts down your body, her eyebrows arching. “How the hell do you still have so many clothes?” she asks. You shrug, looking down at your intact bra and sweatpants. You hadn’t really noticed the layers while your focus was entirely on making her come, but now that the dust has settled, a heavy, demanding ache is building between your thighs.
“It’s supposed to be your job to remove them,” you tease. “You’re not even the one who removed my shirt.”
An arm locks around your hips as she suddenly reverses your positions, settling herself firmly on top of you. “I had no idea you would be such a brat in bed.” Letting out a soft laugh, you guide her jaw down to meet your mouth, biting gently at her bottom lip before releasing it.
You lick her lips teasingly. “You don’t seem to mind it much.”
“I’m gonna shut you up,” she promises, her breath hot against your lips. She presses a hard kiss to your mouth, then drags her lips down your jaw to the hollow of your neck. Her untied hair brushes softly over your collarbone.
She starts nipping too hard against the sensitive skin, forcing a hiss from your throat. “Hey, easier on the teeth. I don’t mind them later on, but it’s too much right now.” She breathes an apology against your throat, instantly adjusting. Driven by the ache between your legs, you push down on her shoulder. “Ale, hurry up.” Before you can move her, she grabs your wrist, holding you completely still.
“Let me enjoy you,” she retorts, her mouth lingering at the top of your chest. Your throat goes completely dry. Looking down at her, you realize you would let Alexia do absolutely whatever she wants to you.
Then, she abruptly sits up. “I need a hair tie.” You let out a miserable groan at the sudden loss of her weight on top of you as she pads toward the bathroom. In the sudden quiet, a flicker of doubt creeps in about what the hell you’re doing. It evaporates the second she steps back out, twisting her hair into a messy bun. You take the opportunity to shamelessly drink in the sight of her naked body. Fuck, she’s a goddess.
She climbs back over you, settling into her position on top while you loop your arms securely around her shoulders. Her mouth returns to the top of your chest, but she pauses, looking up at you as her fingers play with the clasp of your bra, silently waiting for your consent. A single nod is all it takes, and she doesn’t waste a second.
Her grin turns almost boyish as she unhooks the fabric, stripping your bra away and tossing it aside. “You’re gorgeous,” she whispers against your skin before drawing one of your nipples into her mouth. Your back arches instinctively at the sudden rush of pleasure, prompting her to press a heavy hand down to steady your hips. She takes her time painting your chest with her tongue, sending waves of heat rippling through your entire body.
When she finally migrates lower, she stops at your stomach, mapping your abs with a slow, passionate mix of lips and tongue. “I have better abs than you, don’t I?” you tease, panting slightly. In lieu of an answer, she presses her thigh firmly up between your legs. The sound you let out is close to a whimper, but nobody can prove it.
“Seems like I found a way to shut you up,” she teases back. She bites gently at your stomach, testing your reaction. The desperate way you grind your hips against her thigh in response seems to give her all the satisfaction she needs.
Her hand toys with the waistband of your sweats. “Don't be a tease,” you breathe out. She tugs them down the moment you lift your hips to help her, discarding the fabric somewhere in the room. A sharp gasp escapes your lips when the chill of the A/C strikes your flushed skin.
Alexia parts your thighs with her hands, her gaze darkening. “Fuck, you’re wet. Are you turned on by your own talking ?”
You let out a breathy laugh at her words. “Your lips and tongue may have played some part too,” you admit.
She looks up at you with a radiant smile, she kisses a tender spot above your knee, her palms sliding up your inner thighs. But as her fingers start to graze your center, you grip her wrist, holding her back. Alexia instantly freezes, concern replacing the heat in her dark, dilated eyes. “Is everything okay ?”
You’re deeply touched by her immediate softness. “Yes, amor,” you murmur, the pet name slipping out naturally in your eagerness to reassure her. “It’s just that those nails aren’t going inside me.” Alexia looks down at her hands and winces in realization. The press-ons are long, and they’re the kind of pointy you don’t want to take any risks with.
“I know how to use them, it won’t hurt,” she promises softly.
You look down at her hands again. A girl had told you that exact same thing once, and you’d ended up sidelined for a week. Having to explain that particular injury to the club physios was easily the most humiliating moment of your life. “Still a no,” you state firmly.
She nods, letting the matter drop without any further argument. “If I’d known this was happening, I would have taken them off,” she whines.
Sorry Alexia, next time I will tell you in advance “Hey just so you know in a few hours I’m gonna be mad enough to fuck someone I absolutely shouldn’t be fucking.
You push the intrusive thought far away before it can ruin the momentum. Instead, you cup her chin with your right hand, tilting her face up to force her to look at you while your thumb caresses her cheek. “You do realize you have other ways to pleasure me besides your fingers, right ?”
A small fire relights in her eyes as a wicked smile creeps across her face. She plants one last kiss above your knee, her lips trailing a slow path back up your inner thigh before she finally settles herself between your legs. Strands of loose hair escape her bun, brushing softly against your skin. When she finally looks up at you, her expression is completely sinful.
“What do you want ?” She’s so close that the warm air of her breath brushes against your skin as she speaks, making you shudder.
“What do think, Alexia ?” you reply, thoroughly exasperated. Of all the times for her to play dumb, she picks right now.
“I don’t know,” she whispers, refusing to break eye contact. Her nails trail a light, maddening scratch across your abs, driving you absolutely crazy. “Want to play some poker ?”
“I think it’s a bit too late for strip poker, Ale.” You know exactly what she wants, she's waiting for you to ask her to eat you out. But two can play this game.
The low huff of her laughter sends a rush of warm air over your center, making you twitch. “I won’t get you to beg for it ?” She mocks disappointment, but the playful glint in her eyes tells you she’s secretly thrilled by your resistance. Sliding her palm upward, she presses it flat against your sternum, feeling your heart hammering wildly beneath her touch. Despite your defiant words, she knows exactly what kind of effect she has on you.
“You’ll need to do better than that next time, Capi.” You don’t know if it’s the challenge, the promise of a next time, or the deliberate use of her title that makes something snap inside her. Frankly, you don't care, because her tongue finally connects with your clit. You aren't usually the loudest, but the sudden contact forces a low, trembling moan from your throat.
“Careful of the noise, cariño,” she murmurs against your skin. In response, you press your heel firmly into her spine, pushing her back down between your thighs to make her understand she needs to get to work. A muffled huff of laughter escapes her against your sensitive skin, entirely amused by your impatience.
As she goes down on you, you guide her rhythm, adjusting her pace with a mix of breathless words and guiding hands. She is incredibly good at following orders, you quickly realize. The sensation of her mouth feels so much better than any of the thoughts you're trying to outrun. Tangling your fingers into the loose strands of her bun, you cup the back of her neck, tugging sharply whenever she hits the perfect spot. Meanwhile, your free hand blindly traces the sharp line of her jaw, mapping its rhythm as she drives you out of your mind.
Once you start getting close, you whisper, “Look at me.” The raw heat in her eyes is almost enough to push you over the edge on its own. When she begins to lower her gaze to bury herself back between your thighs, you command, “No, look at me while you do it.”
You refuse to break eye contact. The hand on her jaw shifts to the side of her face. Initially meant to direct her, it’s now the only thing keeping you anchored. Your other hand fists blindly into the sheets, white-knuckled and straining. Even though there is zero risk of her pulling away, your heels remain locked against her lower back, pinning her right where you want her.
You know she feels it the exact second your orgasm hits. It starts with a ragged gasp before you completely run out of air, your thighs locking tight as an electric rush fires through every cell of your body. She guides you through the crest of it, her tongue never missing a beat.
The moment it threatens to turn into overstimulation, you tap her cheek, and she gets the memo instantly. She trails slow, soothing kisses up your torso until her mouth meets yours, tasting yourself on her lips. You loop your arms around her shoulders, holding her steady while her head sinks into the crook of your neck as you slowly float back down to reality.
As your heart rate finally settles, you start tracing the exposed tattoos on her back with your fingertips. You don’t ask about their meanings, and she seems perfectly content with the quiet intimacy for a few minutes. “I’m gonna fall asleep,” she whispers, her breath warm against your neck.
You kiss the crown of her head, and she burrows deeper into your side. “We should at least take a shower,” you murmur. She groans in protest, even though she knows you’re right. “Come on, Capi.” You give her ass a light, playful slap to tell her it's time to move, and she instantly nips at your neck in revenge. Laughing, you untangle yourself from her and stand up. Left without your warmth, it doesn’t take her long to follow your lead.
Getting clean takes a while, given how much kissing and touching happens under the water, but you eventually finish. You quickly discover that Alexia is a massive cuddler after sex, and you find yourself liking it a lot. It takes zero convincing on her part to get you to spend the night. She offers you some of her clothes to sleep in, but you almost left the room entirely when she tried to hand you a pair of Barça shorts. Plain cotton ones had to do instead.
You settle onto the bed, laying back with her resting on top of you just like before. Her hair is untied now, draping over her bare back as you slowly run your fingers through the damp strands. “I still find it so funny that you’re such a yapper in the bedroom when you’re not like that at all in real life,” she teases softly.
A sudden wave of self-consciousness hits you, even though you know it’s stupid. “Tell me if you want me to tone it down,” you say, though it sounds a bit more broken than intended. Some of your exes hated that, and you had to make conscious efforts to tone it down with them, so you know you can.
Alexia instantly shifts from her comfortable spot against your chest to look you in the eyes. “Hey, it wasn’t a criticism. I think it’s incredibly hot.” She presses a tender kiss to your cheek, then another to your lips. You could easily get used to this. Fuck, that's a dangerous thought. Suddenly, her gaze drifts to your shoulder and she winces. “Are you sure my biting didn’t hurt too much? It looks pretty bad.”
“I already told you it was okay Ale.” You put your hand around her hips and tug her back down on top of you. “I will figure something out to hide it.”
Neither of you asks what tonight means, or if it will ever happen again. There is no easy answer to that. Or, at least, none that would satisfy either of you right now. It’s still early, considering you arrived just after dinner, but exhaustion is finally catching up to you.
You’re already starting to drift off when Alexia shatters the quiet by bringing up the one topic you wanted to avoid. “You should really start talking about your contract, you know,” she says softly. “Not necessarily with me, but if you just let the clock run out without weighing your options, you're going to regret it. Even if you would have chosen Real anyway.”
You let out a long sigh. Maybe it’s because you’re in a great mood after the sex, but your mouth talks for you. “It’s just… It feels like there is what I want to do and there is the rational thing to do.”
Alexia hums in acknowledgement. “I feel like the heart should always beat the reason. But that’s particularly true in your situation.” Maybe Alexia is an idealist, you’re not. You’re so fucking afraid of making the wrong choice.
“I feel like my heart is telling me to stay just because it’s safe, not because it’s the best choice.” Staying at Madrid where friends, family, and your childhood club are is just so easy. You’re not sure it’s what’s best for your career.
“You’re looking at it too much like there is a good and a wrong answer.” Her tone is soft, her thumb is caressing your side, the words still sting. “Career choices are rarely that easy. You have to choose what is the most likely to make you the happiest in the long run. And that depends on a ton of things : winning trophies, money, closeness to family and friends, the atmosphere in the club you’re joining, the city you’re going to. And happiness isn’t a perfect equation, especially when it’s related to football where results can’t be predicted. You can make the right choice on paper and have it end up being the wrong one because life happens.”
“Very reassuring.” You say ironically. Alexia is trying and you’re maybe being a little too mean. “Thank you, for the words. I think I have trouble figuring out how happy football can make me.” That’s not an admission you make often. You love football with your whole heart, you’re not sure you want it to be your whole life.
“What do you mean ?” You can hear she’s perplexed, it must be confusing for Alexia to hear someone say that.
“It’s just… I’ve never won at club level, so I don’t know how much winning makes it worth it. I’ve also never been the closest of friends with my teammates. Like yeah, I will hang out with them outside of the mandatory things from time to time, but I don’t want my whole circle to be about it. In Madrid, most of the people I hang out with don’t give a fuck about football. I feel like having a life outside of it makes it easier to commit to it when I’m actually on the pitch or training. Like it’s easier to not burn out.”
That’s why I never messed with another footballer before, you add mentally.
You continue. “Munich was miserable for that. I didn’t really realize it at the time because I couldn’t compare. But god, I’ve been so much happier in Madrid. At the same time maybe it was only the context, maybe I was too young when I went to Bayern. It would be perfect if there was another club in Spain I could go to, so I could still be fairly close to everyone. But I’m never going to Barcelona.”
“I mean you could consider it.” You roll your eyes and gently bite her earlobe, she jumps in surprise. “Idiot.” She mumbles.
“I think… I would love to experience somewhere else, just for one year and if I’m miserable, I can go back. But I’m afraid of burning bridges with Real. And I’m afraid that they’re gonna perform while I’m gone. Imagine if Real reaches the semis of the Champions League the season I’m not here ? I would be miserable. Why can’t I fucking duplicate myself.”
She laughs softly at your words. Then takes a more serious tone. “You’re linking the comfortable choice with it being the bad choice. As you said, football isn’t what you are.” She takes a deep breath. “Everyone tells me football is too much what I am, you know. Even Jenni told me that.” Her laugh is almost bitter. “Olga told me that all the time too.”
“Wait, Olga as in our teammate, since when ?” You interrupt, trying to make some sense.
“No !” She laughs. “Olga is the name of my ex, she has nothing to do with football.” That was an awkward mistake to make on your part. “Anyway, my injury forced me to reconsider things. I was actually more available for my friends and family, hanging out with them more. I realized everything I was missing out on because of football. It’s so easy to get caught up with the constant pressure from everyone : the media, the fans, the front office…”
“Do you think you would have left Barça at one point, if not for the injury ?” You’re curious.
“Yeah.” She answers honestly. “And then I would have realized everything that’s not football that I have in Barcelona.” There’s a pause. “To be clear, I’m not saying our situations are entirely comparable. I have the luck that my childhood city also has the best club in Europe. It’s easier to stay when you’re winning everything, it would be stupid not to. I just wanted to say to not push aside too much the outside of football aspects when taking the decision.”
“Thank you, a lot.” You say sincerely. You kiss the top of her head. “I think it really helps to talk about it, it’s just hard to.”
“Anytime.” She answers without hesitation. She snuggles even closer to you. “We should go to sleep.”
You look at your phone, it’s only 10PM, why did you decide to be a professional athlete again ? “Yeah, I will put my alarm early so I can go back to my room with Vicky before she wakes up. I will just tell her I came back late in the night.”
“Okay,” Alexia says softly. She moves to turn off the bedside lamps as you set up the alarm to 6AM. Once the room is dark, she gets back to her previous position on top of you. She kisses you, a long one but without heat behind it, before her head settles on your shoulder. One of your arms circles her waist, while the other circles her shoulders. “Goodnight cariño,” she whispers.
“Goodnight Ale,” you whisper back. In the back of your mind, a million alarm bells are screaming at you, a frantic reminder of just how compromising this situation truly is. But exhaustion has taken over. Wrapped up in her warmth, you let her touch drown out the noise until there is nothing left but silence.
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A/n : It was my first time writing smut, I'm quite happy with how it turned out (Don't ask me how much time I spent writing and rewriting it, I know the whole scene by heart now). I hope it doesn't feel too rushed.
Also because it has been a subject recently, having short/long nails doesn't correlate to being a lesbian and/or in a relationship. r just doesn't like the idea of them inside her ✌️
Great chapter!! The smut felt so natural. Love that R’s walls are starting to come down. Ale seems down bad for R… would be interesting to get her insight into their relationship (past and present)!
r is stressed enough that she's letting Ale in more.
There are some Ale POV later that tackle how she views her present relationship with r. It might indeed be interesting for me to add to these part more things about the past.
I will say that she Las 15 moment degraded her opinion of r a lot.
Beyond the Badge | Alexia Putellas x reader - Part 4
Part 4
Summary : You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Real Madrid! Reader
Word count : 6.5k
Warnings : 18+ (smut), I won't put a warning for every chapter that contains some. I'm putting it on this one because it's the first one that does.
Masterlist
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You barely register the walk to her room. Your feet carry you there, through long corridors you learned by heart through the years. 119 is written in golden letters on a plate just next to the door, “Alexia Putellas” is taped up under it, as if to remind you what you’re walking into.
You don’t even overthink it. Your breathing is still ragged, you feel 30 seconds away from collapsing. You knock on the door, Alexia answers immediately, as if she has been waiting next to it. You don’t spare her a look and go lie down on the bed, throwing your slides on the floor. You put your head in the pillow and scream in frustration.
“Hey.” Alexia says softly. She comes to sit on the other side of the bed, close to you. She caresses your back up and down in comfort. “What’s wrong ?” You can hear the worry in her voice. To be fair, it must be confusing to her.
You groan and turn your head toward her. Her eyes are full of compassion. God, you love those eyes. “My agent called, about the contract.” You scrub a hand over your face. “I still have no freaking idea what I want to do.” You feel a lump in your throat, you absolutely won’t cry in front of her. Not because of a contract.
You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “Then there is the whole shitshow created by Vicky. I’m not literally mad at her but fuck with this whole contract thing it’s starting to be too much.” You’re rambling, she doesn’t stop you.
Her thumb traces slow circles between your shoulder blades, and it feels good, it’s grounding. You could get lost against the sensation, feeling the warmth of her palm even through your shirt.
“What can I do to help ?” Alexia is nice, too fucking nice. And her eyes are soft and–. “Hey, calm down, you’re shaking.” You haven’t even realized you were, you try to breathe in and out, it isn’t working much. She presses down her hand against your lower back, you shiver at the sensation.
She misinterprets your reaction and pulls her hand back slightly, hovering in a rare moment of awkwardness. She looks like she doesn’t know quite how to comfort you, and honestly, you can’t blame her.
You take a deep breath once your heartbeat stops pounding in your temple. “I’m sorry for coming here every time I’m overwhelmed.”
She furrows her eyebrows. “Hey no.” She says quickly. “You can come here anytime you need.”
The words land somewhere behind your ribs. Suddenly looking at her feels like a terrible idea. “What a good captain.” You deflect. How weird would it be for you to run away right now ? Because you definitely trust neither your instincts nor your mind right now.
She rolls her eyes, annoyed at you. “You know I’m not doing that just because I’m your captain.” You’re not that convinced it’s true. “And I have a single room, I'd be alone otherwise.”
You chuckle, starting to finally not feel like you’re gonna break down in an instant. “Oh yeah poor you, we can switch if it’s making you suffer too much.”
“We could.” Her tone is too serious for your liking.
“I was kidding Ale. I don’t have a problem with sharing my room.”
She searches your face, relaxing at whatever she finds there. She doesn’t push. “You’re feeling a bit better ?”
You nod, better because you don’t feel like you’re gonna implode. You can still feel how tense your body is. The conversation with your agent is playing on loop in your brain. Her presence is the only thing soothing your mind, you want to feel her palm against your back again.
Alexia still has a worried look, something in your chest goes soft at the sight. You look at her face, your mind can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is. Her eyes, her lips, the feeling of her body against yours after the game against England, the way she has been opening her door without question for you. The adrenaline of panic is morphing into something else.
You also need a distraction, badly.
“Do you want to help me make a very bad decision right now ?” Confusion is written all over her face. Then your gaze drops to her lips, completely devoid of subtlety, before snapping back to her eyes. You watch recognition flare in them, followed by something much heavier.
She seems to hesitate. “I don’t want to take advantage of the state you’re in,” she whispers. Her jaw tenses. She looks away, then back at you. For a second you feel a cold shiver, worried you’ve gone too far. Then her eyes can’t stop themselves from looking down at your lips, and you exhale.
“Ale.” Her eyes snap back to yours. She’s on the edge of a cliff, you need to convince her to jump. “It’s not the first time I’m thinking about it,” you admit.
Her throat bobs, her eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second. Then, the distance between you vanishes. Her lips are soft against yours. Instinct takes over, your hand flies to her jaw, your thumb tracing her cheekbone. It feels great, more than great. Your mind goes blank while butterflies explode in your stomach, heat rushes through you so quickly it leaves you lightheaded.
She breaks the kiss first. When your eyes open, she’s already staring down at you, searching. She is entirely breathtaking. A smile breaks across her face, wider and softer than any victory you’ve ever seen her celebrate on the pitch.
The first words she says are “You see I was right to be trying to fix everything from the start.” She seems happy with herself, the words take a moment to register.
Oh yeah, you did basically tell her she was too much of a try hard when captaining the team. You can’t believe she’s thinking about that right now. She adds smugly “I’m a great captain, ain’t I ?” You shut her up with a second kiss. She smiles against your lips before melting when she feels your tongue.
Somehow you end up in her lap, her hands firm against your hips, grabbing the fabric of your shirt. When the kiss breaks because you unfortunately are both humans that need air, you press open mouth kisses on her jaw. You then lick the length of it. Alexia murmurs a curse and you kiss her again.
You put a centimeter of space between your two mouths. “We both know why I’m doing this, I need to take my mind off things. I don’t get why you’re doing this.” You murmur against her lips. You need to know why, to be sure she wants this.
Alexia’s eyes are dark with want, her breathing uneven. You can’t even imagine what she looks like when she’s close to coming undone. You want to discover that. “Maybe I just want to fuck you.” Her voice is lower than usual. Your brain short-circuits. For a few seconds, there's nothing but a buzzing sound. That might be the hottest thing you’ve heard in your life. You weren’t expecting Alexia of all people to say that.
As soon as thoughts come back, you kiss her again, this time more hungrily, teeth clash but neither of you care. Her hands slide under your shirt. Her palms are warm, almost sweaty. The heat of her skin against yours makes you feel like you're completely overheating. You pull back just enough to yank the fabric over your head, tossing it blindly across the room.
Alexia's eyes fix on the newly revealed skin. She has seen you like that plenty of times in a locker room. You will admit the context is a bit different. “You’re beautiful,” she breathes out. She puts her hands on the small of your back to push you closer to her, soft with her movements. She is too when she discovers your neck with her mouth. She takes her time to figure out what you like, the spots that make your breath hitch. You hump against her thigh and you can feel her smile in your neck.
Deciding Alexia is wearing far too many clothes, you reach for the hem of her shirt. You both end up laughing as you awkwardly struggle with the fabric, but you finally manage to yank it off and toss it blindly into the room. Looking down at her, your smile turns hungry. She is nothing but muscle, and you want to feel every bit of it under your palms and lips. You catch her earlobe between your teeth in a gentle nip. “Everything still okay ?”
She laughs softly. “More than okay cariño.” You weren’t expecting the endearment term, but you don’t dislike it. Your mouth goes to her neck, and her breathing stops for a second or two. You test things. First, you bite softly and she lets out a small moan, so you do it more. Then, you realize kisses don’t have much effect, so you bite and lick instead. You’re very careful to not leave anything close to a mark, that would be very hard to explain for her.
“Lie down,” you murmur. She doesn't hesitate, shifting lower until she’s flat on the mattress. Straddling her hips, you look down at her. She is a glorious sight. As your hand strokes down her abs, she flexes beneath your touch. “Show off,” you tease, swatting at her playfully.
Her thighs spread, welcoming you into the space between them. As you lower yourself, you drag your teeth lightly along her collarbone. Her hips grind up against you in response, you anchor a hand firmly on her hip to pin her to the mattress.
You always love your first time with a woman because that’s when you totally discover her body. You take your sweet time with Alexia, and she’s not complaining. Her bra is on the floor a few minutes later. She has her hand in your hair while you’re worshiping her abs, to be fair they deserve it. You know she’s getting impatient when she starts to push your head down gently.
You smile and go lower. You remove her sweats and underwear in the same motion, the teasing has gone on long enough. You part her thighs and you’re out of words for how wet she is. “Don’t comment.” She groans out. You look up at her and her cheeks are pink, it’s kinda cute.
You honor her request and stay quiet. Instead of stopping the tease like you promised yourself, you trail slow licks and sharp bites down the inside of her thighs. Her muscles twitch against your lips. The moment you move directly over her heat, her body tenses in stark anticipation, your breath catching against her cunt.
When you finally comply and lick, her whole body reacts. Her hips jump up and you put your forearm around her midriff to stop that from happening again. Her moan is low, throaty, and dangerously loud considering your surroundings. “Ale, I love that sound,” you murmur against her skin, smoothing a kiss into her inner thigh, “but you can’t be this loud here.” Without a word, she pulls a pillow over her face to bury the noise. Fuck, you miss the sound already.
Navigating her pleasure is harder in the silence, but you read her body instead. The way her hand knots into your hair, the sudden, sharp tension in her muscles. You lose all sense of time, you could spend a lifetime right here. Every low rumble buried in the pillow urges you onward. You press a single finger to her entrance, looking up to catch her eye. “Can I ?”
She gets the pillow away from her face for a second. “You don’t need to ask.” Her voice is a mess, low, hoarse, broken, you can’t believe you’ve done it. She’s pushing your head down to where it was before. Your finger enters her without any resistance, you can tell she’s already really close. You immediately enter a second one.
Her walls pulse around your fingers while your tongue keeps up its steady rhythm. It doesn’t take long for her to completely break. You feel the exact moment she comes undone. Her hips arch high against your mouth, chasing the friction, before she collapses back against the sheets. Not even the pillow can swallow the raw, broken cry she lets out.
You remove your fingers gently and move back up her body, leaving a wet trail while doing so. The pillow falls away from her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes still unfocused. You kiss her once, brief and soft, then again on her shoulder, tracing the curve of her waist while her breathing slowly settles.
As you linger over her shoulder, she hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at her. You can’t help the smile that breaks against her lips as you lean in. “You’re too smug,” she complains, though she doesn't pull away.
You kiss the line of her jaw and go to her ear. “You were so loud you needed a pillow to muffle your moans.” You say, your voice intentionally low, before tugging at the lobe with your teeth. She has an arm around your shoulders, her fingers dig into it at your words and you hiss because her nails are pointy.
You position yourselves on your arms so you can look down at her. “Do you still carry a strap in your suitcase ?” She rolls her eyes and swats at your shoulder while murmuring idiot. “Hey that was a genuine question.”
Her cheeks are tinted a bit pink, not from her orgasm. “I don’t have one at all times no. For quite obvious reasons I wasn’t planning to get lucky during camp.” You hum and press your mouth to the hollow of her throat, feeling the frantic pulse against your lips.
“So you were planning to get lucky during your trip to Valencia ?” It’s half teasing and half genuine curiosity. Her breath catches when you scrape your teeth against her pulse point while your right hand starts to travel down her body, she shivers when you trace her ribs. You use your left arm to not put your whole weight on her.
“Yeah, I have a girl I was seeing– Fuck.” She stops when your hand reaches the inside of her thigh and your short nails dig into the soft flesh there. You smile against her shoulder and bite it. “Why are you asking these questions right now ?” She complains.
Your hand moves between her legs, your index finger tests how wet she still is, careful to still avoid her clit for now. She’s drenched, some new wetness already coating your fingers. “Maybe I just want to hear your voice.” It’s also some curiosity that came after Vicky told you the story. You’re quite satisfied that Alexia used the past tense when talking about the girl. You won’t dwell on that, not now, not anytime really.
Shifting downward, your mouth finds her breast, swirling your tongue over her skin before pulling her into your mouth. She clamps her forearm over her face, desperately hiding her moans. You let her go with a slow, teasing drag of your teeth. She drops her arm just long enough to glare at you. “I can’t believe that’s your choice of conversation.”
Your fingers toy with her entrance, brushing past her wetness but deliberately withholding what she wants. “I think that's a perfectly appropriate topic. I would love to use a strap on you.” The sheer bluntness of it makes her breath hitch. Before she can recover, you finally sink your fingers inside her, drawing out a low, throaty moan.
It takes her a moment to collect herself enough to talk back. “I had no idea you would be such a yapper.” You chuckle against her skin, raising some goosebumps as your tongue moves to her other breast. This time she anticipates the touch, quickly burying her face in her arm to muffle the sound. It’s a shame, you don’t want any teammates hearing you through the walls, but god, you want to hear her.
Your mouth travels up her chest, a sharp bite to her forearm prompting her to uncover her face. “Imagined sex with me a lot, Putellas ?” You don’t give her a chance to answer as your fingers start moving inside her again, catching her gasp with a kiss. You track her reactions through pure instinct, the intakes of breath when you do certain movements, her fingers gripping your hip every time you hit that spot.
The kisses start to get messy the moment your thumb grazes her clit. She loses her composure completely, unraveling into a mix of breathless Catalan you don’t understand and raw noises you can’t hope to muffle. To quiet her down, you press closer, offering your shoulder for her to bite. It makes the movements a little clumsy, the angle a bit awkward, but you maneuver around it, keeping your fingers moving in a steady rhythm.
You will be able to hide the bruise on your shoulder, but your back is going to be a disaster if she keeps clawing at your skin. “Easy with the nails, tiger,” you gasp against her hair, “you’ll leave marks.” She doesn’t say anything, but she takes the hint, wrapping her hands back around your hips and smoothing her palms flat against your skin.
Her teeth on your shoulder sting, but it’s the kind of sharp pain that only feeds the pleasure. Sensing how close she is, you lock into the rhythm, driving into what’s working. Then, she snaps. Her body arches in a mirror image of her first orgasm, her teeth sinking agonizingly deep into your shoulder as she clamps down impossibly tight around your fingers. A second later, just like that, the tension breaks, and she falls quiet against the bed.
You’re careful when you remove your fingers. Alexia still has her eyes shut, breathing heavily, her whole body covered in sweat. You want to take a mental picture because she looks like a work of art. You’re proud to have done it.
She comes back to her senses slowly. When her eyes finally open, you hold her gaze and make a show of sucking your soaked fingers, drawing a breathless laugh from her. But as her eyes drift to your shoulder, her smile fades into a wince. “I didn’t realize I was biting so hard. I’m sorry,” she says softly, tracing her thumb over the rapidly forming bruise.
“Don't worry. If it had been too much, I would've told you,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her gently. Her breathing is finally evening out, her skin growing cooler and less flushed as the adrenaline begins to fade.
Her gaze drifts down your body, her eyebrows arching. “How the hell do you still have so many clothes?” she asks. You shrug, looking down at your intact bra and sweatpants. You hadn’t really noticed the layers while your focus was entirely on making her come, but now that the dust has settled, a heavy, demanding ache is building between your thighs.
“It’s supposed to be your job to remove them,” you tease. “You’re not even the one who removed my shirt.”
An arm locks around your hips as she suddenly reverses your positions, settling herself firmly on top of you. “I had no idea you would be such a brat in bed.” Letting out a soft laugh, you guide her jaw down to meet your mouth, biting gently at her bottom lip before releasing it.
You lick her lips teasingly. “You don’t seem to mind it much.”
“I’m gonna shut you up,” she promises, her breath hot against your lips. She presses a hard kiss to your mouth, then drags her lips down your jaw to the hollow of your neck. Her untied hair brushes softly over your collarbone.
She starts nipping too hard against the sensitive skin, forcing a hiss from your throat. “Hey, easier on the teeth. I don’t mind them later on, but it’s too much right now.” She breathes an apology against your throat, instantly adjusting. Driven by the ache between your legs, you push down on her shoulder. “Ale, hurry up.” Before you can move her, she grabs your wrist, holding you completely still.
“Let me enjoy you,” she retorts, her mouth lingering at the top of your chest. Your throat goes completely dry. Looking down at her, you realize you would let Alexia do absolutely whatever she wants to you.
Then, she abruptly sits up. “I need a hair tie.” You let out a miserable groan at the sudden loss of her weight on top of you as she pads toward the bathroom. In the sudden quiet, a flicker of doubt creeps in about what the hell you’re doing. It evaporates the second she steps back out, twisting her hair into a messy bun. You take the opportunity to shamelessly drink in the sight of her naked body. Fuck, she’s a goddess.
She climbs back over you, settling into her position on top while you loop your arms securely around her shoulders. Her mouth returns to the top of your chest, but she pauses, looking up at you as her fingers play with the clasp of your bra, silently waiting for your consent. A single nod is all it takes, and she doesn’t waste a second.
Her grin turns almost boyish as she unhooks the fabric, stripping your bra away and tossing it aside. “You’re gorgeous,” she whispers against your skin before drawing one of your nipples into her mouth. Your back arches instinctively at the sudden rush of pleasure, prompting her to press a heavy hand down to steady your hips. She takes her time painting your chest with her tongue, sending waves of heat rippling through your entire body.
When she finally migrates lower, she stops at your stomach, mapping your abs with a slow, passionate mix of lips and tongue. “I have better abs than you, don’t I?” you tease, panting slightly. In lieu of an answer, she presses her thigh firmly up between your legs. The sound you let out is close to a whimper, but nobody can prove it.
“Seems like I found a way to shut you up,” she teases back. She bites gently at your stomach, testing your reaction. The desperate way you grind your hips against her thigh in response seems to give her all the satisfaction she needs.
Her hand toys with the waistband of your sweats. “Don't be a tease,” you breathe out. She tugs them down the moment you lift your hips to help her, discarding the fabric somewhere in the room. A sharp gasp escapes your lips when the chill of the A/C strikes your flushed skin.
Alexia parts your thighs with her hands, her gaze darkening. “Fuck, you’re wet. Are you turned on by your own talking ?”
You let out a breathy laugh at her words. “Your lips and tongue may have played some part too,” you admit.
She looks up at you with a radiant smile, she kisses a tender spot above your knee, her palms sliding up your inner thighs. But as her fingers start to graze your center, you grip her wrist, holding her back. Alexia instantly freezes, concern replacing the heat in her dark, dilated eyes. “Is everything okay ?”
You’re deeply touched by her immediate softness. “Yes, amor,” you murmur, the pet name slipping out naturally in your eagerness to reassure her. “It’s just that those nails aren’t going inside me.” Alexia looks down at her hands and winces in realization. The press-ons are long, and they’re the kind of pointy you don’t want to take any risks with.
“I know how to use them, it won’t hurt,” she promises softly.
You look down at her hands again. A girl had told you that exact same thing once, and you’d ended up sidelined for a week. Having to explain that particular injury to the club physios was easily the most humiliating moment of your life. “Still a no,” you state firmly.
She nods, letting the matter drop without any further argument. “If I’d known this was happening, I would have taken them off,” she whines.
Sorry Alexia, next time I will tell you in advance “Hey just so you know in a few hours I’m gonna be mad enough to fuck someone I absolutely shouldn’t be fucking.
You push the intrusive thought far away before it can ruin the momentum. Instead, you cup her chin with your right hand, tilting her face up to force her to look at you while your thumb caresses her cheek. “You do realize you have other ways to pleasure me besides your fingers, right ?”
A small fire relights in her eyes as a wicked smile creeps across her face. She plants one last kiss above your knee, her lips trailing a slow path back up your inner thigh before she finally settles herself between your legs. Strands of loose hair escape her bun, brushing softly against your skin. When she finally looks up at you, her expression is completely sinful.
“What do you want ?” She’s so close that the warm air of her breath brushes against your skin as she speaks, making you shudder.
“What do think, Alexia ?” you reply, thoroughly exasperated. Of all the times for her to play dumb, she picks right now.
“I don’t know,” she whispers, refusing to break eye contact. Her nails trail a light, maddening scratch across your abs, driving you absolutely crazy. “Want to play some poker ?”
“I think it’s a bit too late for strip poker, Ale.” You know exactly what she wants, she's waiting for you to ask her to eat you out. But two can play this game.
The low huff of her laughter sends a rush of warm air over your center, making you twitch. “I won’t get you to beg for it ?” She mocks disappointment, but the playful glint in her eyes tells you she’s secretly thrilled by your resistance. Sliding her palm upward, she presses it flat against your sternum, feeling your heart hammering wildly beneath her touch. Despite your defiant words, she knows exactly what kind of effect she has on you.
“You’ll need to do better than that next time, Capi.” You don’t know if it’s the challenge, the promise of a next time, or the deliberate use of her title that makes something snap inside her. Frankly, you don't care, because her tongue finally connects with your clit. You aren't usually the loudest, but the sudden contact forces a low, trembling moan from your throat.
“Careful of the noise, cariño,” she murmurs against your skin. In response, you press your heel firmly into her spine, pushing her back down between your thighs to make her understand she needs to get to work. A muffled huff of laughter escapes her against your sensitive skin, entirely amused by your impatience.
As she goes down on you, you guide her rhythm, adjusting her pace with a mix of breathless words and guiding hands. She is incredibly good at following orders, you quickly realize. The sensation of her mouth feels so much better than any of the thoughts you're trying to outrun. Tangling your fingers into the loose strands of her bun, you cup the back of her neck, tugging sharply whenever she hits the perfect spot. Meanwhile, your free hand blindly traces the sharp line of her jaw, mapping its rhythm as she drives you out of your mind.
Once you start getting close, you whisper, “Look at me.” The raw heat in her eyes is almost enough to push you over the edge on its own. When she begins to lower her gaze to bury herself back between your thighs, you command, “No, look at me while you do it.”
You refuse to break eye contact. The hand on her jaw shifts to the side of her face. Initially meant to direct her, it’s now the only thing keeping you anchored. Your other hand fists blindly into the sheets, white-knuckled and straining. Even though there is zero risk of her pulling away, your heels remain locked against her lower back, pinning her right where you want her.
You know she feels it the exact second your orgasm hits. It starts with a ragged gasp before you completely run out of air, your thighs locking tight as an electric rush fires through every cell of your body. She guides you through the crest of it, her tongue never missing a beat.
The moment it threatens to turn into overstimulation, you tap her cheek, and she gets the memo instantly. She trails slow, soothing kisses up your torso until her mouth meets yours, tasting yourself on her lips. You loop your arms around her shoulders, holding her steady while her head sinks into the crook of your neck as you slowly float back down to reality.
As your heart rate finally settles, you start tracing the exposed tattoos on her back with your fingertips. You don’t ask about their meanings, and she seems perfectly content with the quiet intimacy for a few minutes. “I’m gonna fall asleep,” she whispers, her breath warm against your neck.
You kiss the crown of her head, and she burrows deeper into your side. “We should at least take a shower,” you murmur. She groans in protest, even though she knows you’re right. “Come on, Capi.” You give her ass a light, playful slap to tell her it's time to move, and she instantly nips at your neck in revenge. Laughing, you untangle yourself from her and stand up. Left without your warmth, it doesn’t take her long to follow your lead.
Getting clean takes a while, given how much kissing and touching happens under the water, but you eventually finish. You quickly discover that Alexia is a massive cuddler after sex, and you find yourself liking it a lot. It takes zero convincing on her part to get you to spend the night. She offers you some of her clothes to sleep in, but you almost left the room entirely when she tried to hand you a pair of Barça shorts. Plain cotton ones had to do instead.
You settle onto the bed, laying back with her resting on top of you just like before. Her hair is untied now, draping over her bare back as you slowly run your fingers through the damp strands. “I still find it so funny that you’re such a yapper in the bedroom when you’re not like that at all in real life,” she teases softly.
A sudden wave of self-consciousness hits you, even though you know it’s stupid. “Tell me if you want me to tone it down,” you say, though it sounds a bit more broken than intended. Some of your exes hated that, and you had to make conscious efforts to tone it down with them, so you know you can.
Alexia instantly shifts from her comfortable spot against your chest to look you in the eyes. “Hey, it wasn’t a criticism. I think it’s incredibly hot.” She presses a tender kiss to your cheek, then another to your lips. You could easily get used to this. Fuck, that's a dangerous thought. Suddenly, her gaze drifts to your shoulder and she winces. “Are you sure my biting didn’t hurt too much? It looks pretty bad.”
“I already told you it was okay Ale.” You put your hand around her hips and tug her back down on top of you. “I will figure something out to hide it.”
Neither of you asks what tonight means, or if it will ever happen again. There is no easy answer to that. Or, at least, none that would satisfy either of you right now. It’s still early, considering you arrived just after dinner, but exhaustion is finally catching up to you.
You’re already starting to drift off when Alexia shatters the quiet by bringing up the one topic you wanted to avoid. “You should really start talking about your contract, you know,” she says softly. “Not necessarily with me, but if you just let the clock run out without weighing your options, you're going to regret it. Even if you would have chosen Real anyway.”
You let out a long sigh. Maybe it’s because you’re in a great mood after the sex, but your mouth talks for you. “It’s just… It feels like there is what I want to do and there is the rational thing to do.”
Alexia hums in acknowledgement. “I feel like the heart should always beat the reason. But that’s particularly true in your situation.” Maybe Alexia is an idealist, you’re not. You’re so fucking afraid of making the wrong choice.
“I feel like my heart is telling me to stay just because it’s safe, not because it’s the best choice.” Staying at Madrid where friends, family, and your childhood club are is just so easy. You’re not sure it’s what’s best for your career.
“You’re looking at it too much like there is a good and a wrong answer.” Her tone is soft, her thumb is caressing your side, the words still sting. “Career choices are rarely that easy. You have to choose what is the most likely to make you the happiest in the long run. And that depends on a ton of things : winning trophies, money, closeness to family and friends, the atmosphere in the club you’re joining, the city you’re going to. And happiness isn’t a perfect equation, especially when it’s related to football where results can’t be predicted. You can make the right choice on paper and have it end up being the wrong one because life happens.”
“Very reassuring.” You say ironically. Alexia is trying and you’re maybe being a little too mean. “Thank you, for the words. I think I have trouble figuring out how happy football can make me.” That’s not an admission you make often. You love football with your whole heart, you’re not sure you want it to be your whole life.
“What do you mean ?” You can hear she’s perplexed, it must be confusing for Alexia to hear someone say that.
“It’s just… I’ve never won at club level, so I don’t know how much winning makes it worth it. I’ve also never been the closest of friends with my teammates. Like yeah, I will hang out with them outside of the mandatory things from time to time, but I don’t want my whole circle to be about it. In Madrid, most of the people I hang out with don’t give a fuck about football. I feel like having a life outside of it makes it easier to commit to it when I’m actually on the pitch or training. Like it’s easier to not burn out.”
That’s why I never messed with another footballer before, you add mentally.
You continue. “Munich was miserable for that. I didn’t really realize it at the time because I couldn’t compare. But god, I’ve been so much happier in Madrid. At the same time maybe it was only the context, maybe I was too young when I went to Bayern. It would be perfect if there was another club in Spain I could go to, so I could still be fairly close to everyone. But I’m never going to Barcelona.”
“I mean you could consider it.” You roll your eyes and gently bite her earlobe, she jumps in surprise. “Idiot.” She mumbles.
“I think… I would love to experience somewhere else, just for one year and if I’m miserable, I can go back. But I’m afraid of burning bridges with Real. And I’m afraid that they’re gonna perform while I’m gone. Imagine if Real reaches the semis of the Champions League the season I’m not here ? I would be miserable. Why can’t I fucking duplicate myself.”
She laughs softly at your words. Then takes a more serious tone. “You’re linking the comfortable choice with it being the bad choice. As you said, football isn’t what you are.” She takes a deep breath. “Everyone tells me football is too much what I am, you know. Even Jenni told me that.” Her laugh is almost bitter. “Olga told me that all the time too.”
“Wait, Olga as in our teammate, since when ?” You interrupt, trying to make some sense.
“No !” She laughs. “Olga is the name of my ex, she has nothing to do with football.” That was an awkward mistake to make on your part. “Anyway, my injury forced me to reconsider things. I was actually more available for my friends and family, hanging out with them more. I realized everything I was missing out on because of football. It’s so easy to get caught up with the constant pressure from everyone : the media, the fans, the front office…”
“Do you think you would have left Barça at one point, if not for the injury ?” You’re curious.
“Yeah.” She answers honestly. “And then I would have realized everything that’s not football that I have in Barcelona.” There’s a pause. “To be clear, I’m not saying our situations are entirely comparable. I have the luck that my childhood city also has the best club in Europe. It’s easier to stay when you’re winning everything, it would be stupid not to. I just wanted to say to not push aside too much the outside of football aspects when taking the decision.”
“Thank you, a lot.” You say sincerely. You kiss the top of her head. “I think it really helps to talk about it, it’s just hard to.”
“Anytime.” She answers without hesitation. She snuggles even closer to you. “We should go to sleep.”
You look at your phone, it’s only 10PM, why did you decide to be a professional athlete again ? “Yeah, I will put my alarm early so I can go back to my room with Vicky before she wakes up. I will just tell her I came back late in the night.”
“Okay,” Alexia says softly. She moves to turn off the bedside lamps as you set up the alarm to 6AM. Once the room is dark, she gets back to her previous position on top of you. She kisses you, a long one but without heat behind it, before her head settles on your shoulder. One of your arms circles her waist, while the other circles her shoulders. “Goodnight cariño,” she whispers.
“Goodnight Ale,” you whisper back. In the back of your mind, a million alarm bells are screaming at you, a frantic reminder of just how compromising this situation truly is. But exhaustion has taken over. Wrapped up in her warmth, you let her touch drown out the noise until there is nothing left but silence.
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A/n : It was my first time writing smut, I'm quite happy with how it turned out (Don't ask me how much time I spent writing and rewriting it, I know the whole scene by heart now). I hope it doesn't feel too rushed.
Also because it has been a subject recently, having short/long nails doesn't correlate to being a lesbian and/or in a relationship. r just doesn't like the idea of them inside her ✌️
new chapter where we have smut that is HOT but also sweet and realistic and they are super cute together? am i in heaven? this was so gooooood, congrats on another great chapter
Its such a vibe, I like that there isnt hate between them. Its different, they arent enemies to lovers but neither friends to lovers. Really love it!
The smut was fantastic! They didnt hold back but were checking in, its hot.
And Ale reassuring R about the talking🤞
love it xx
Thank you so much !! 🫶
I went more with the rivals to lover trope. Their history has conflicts, but it never became litteral hate. There was still respect between them, but mutual avoidance because of the past and the obvious Barça/Real Madrid situation.
Thanks for the smut that was exactly what I was going for. Some need to evacuate the tension/pressure but they both are still careful about the other.
Obviously also why Ale was so quick to reassure r about the talking. She just wanted to do some light teasing but they don't know each other enough to know what's a sore topic or not.
Amazing smut, especially for your first time writing it! Looking forward to hopefully reading about them using the strap (I’d love for them both to use it on each other)
Beyond the Badge | Alexia Putellas x reader - Part 4
Part 4
Summary : You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Real Madrid! Reader
Word count : 6.5k
Warnings : 18+ (smut), I won't put a warning for every chapter that contains some. I'm putting it on this one because it's the first one that does.
Masterlist
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You barely register the walk to her room. Your feet carry you there, through long corridors you learned by heart through the years. 119 is written in golden letters on a plate just next to the door, “Alexia Putellas” is taped up under it, as if to remind you what you’re walking into.
You don’t even overthink it. Your breathing is still ragged, you feel 30 seconds away from collapsing. You knock on the door, Alexia answers immediately, as if she has been waiting next to it. You don’t spare her a look and go lie down on the bed, throwing your slides on the floor. You put your head in the pillow and scream in frustration.
“Hey.” Alexia says softly. She comes to sit on the other side of the bed, close to you. She caresses your back up and down in comfort. “What’s wrong ?” You can hear the worry in her voice. To be fair, it must be confusing to her.
You groan and turn your head toward her. Her eyes are full of compassion. God, you love those eyes. “My agent called, about the contract.” You scrub a hand over your face. “I still have no freaking idea what I want to do.” You feel a lump in your throat, you absolutely won’t cry in front of her. Not because of a contract.
You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “Then there is the whole shitshow created by Vicky. I’m not literally mad at her but fuck with this whole contract thing it’s starting to be too much.” You’re rambling, she doesn’t stop you.
Her thumb traces slow circles between your shoulder blades, and it feels good, it’s grounding. You could get lost against the sensation, feeling the warmth of her palm even through your shirt.
“What can I do to help ?” Alexia is nice, too fucking nice. And her eyes are soft and–. “Hey, calm down, you’re shaking.” You haven’t even realized you were, you try to breathe in and out, it isn’t working much. She presses down her hand against your lower back, you shiver at the sensation.
She misinterprets your reaction and pulls her hand back slightly, hovering in a rare moment of awkwardness. She looks like she doesn’t know quite how to comfort you, and honestly, you can’t blame her.
You take a deep breath once your heartbeat stops pounding in your temple. “I’m sorry for coming here every time I’m overwhelmed.”
She furrows her eyebrows. “Hey no.” She says quickly. “You can come here anytime you need.”
The words land somewhere behind your ribs. Suddenly looking at her feels like a terrible idea. “What a good captain.” You deflect. How weird would it be for you to run away right now ? Because you definitely trust neither your instincts nor your mind right now.
She rolls her eyes, annoyed at you. “You know I’m not doing that just because I’m your captain.” You’re not that convinced it’s true. “And I have a single room, I'd be alone otherwise.”
You chuckle, starting to finally not feel like you’re gonna break down in an instant. “Oh yeah poor you, we can switch if it’s making you suffer too much.”
“We could.” Her tone is too serious for your liking.
“I was kidding Ale. I don’t have a problem with sharing my room.”
She searches your face, relaxing at whatever she finds there. She doesn’t push. “You’re feeling a bit better ?”
You nod, better because you don’t feel like you’re gonna implode. You can still feel how tense your body is. The conversation with your agent is playing on loop in your brain. Her presence is the only thing soothing your mind, you want to feel her palm against your back again.
Alexia still has a worried look, something in your chest goes soft at the sight. You look at her face, your mind can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is. Her eyes, her lips, the feeling of her body against yours after the game against England, the way she has been opening her door without question for you. The adrenaline of panic is morphing into something else.
You also need a distraction, badly.
“Do you want to help me make a very bad decision right now ?” Confusion is written all over her face. Then your gaze drops to her lips, completely devoid of subtlety, before snapping back to her eyes. You watch recognition flare in them, followed by something much heavier.
She seems to hesitate. “I don’t want to take advantage of the state you’re in,” she whispers. Her jaw tenses. She looks away, then back at you. For a second you feel a cold shiver, worried you’ve gone too far. Then her eyes can’t stop themselves from looking down at your lips, and you exhale.
“Ale.” Her eyes snap back to yours. She’s on the edge of a cliff, you need to convince her to jump. “It’s not the first time I’m thinking about it,” you admit.
Her throat bobs, her eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second. Then, the distance between you vanishes. Her lips are soft against yours. Instinct takes over, your hand flies to her jaw, your thumb tracing her cheekbone. It feels great, more than great. Your mind goes blank while butterflies explode in your stomach, heat rushes through you so quickly it leaves you lightheaded.
She breaks the kiss first. When your eyes open, she’s already staring down at you, searching. She is entirely breathtaking. A smile breaks across her face, wider and softer than any victory you’ve ever seen her celebrate on the pitch.
The first words she says are “You see I was right to be trying to fix everything from the start.” She seems happy with herself, the words take a moment to register.
Oh yeah, you did basically tell her she was too much of a try hard when captaining the team. You can’t believe she’s thinking about that right now. She adds smugly “I’m a great captain, ain’t I ?” You shut her up with a second kiss. She smiles against your lips before melting when she feels your tongue.
Somehow you end up in her lap, her hands firm against your hips, grabbing the fabric of your shirt. When the kiss breaks because you unfortunately are both humans that need air, you press open mouth kisses on her jaw. You then lick the length of it. Alexia murmurs a curse and you kiss her again.
You put a centimeter of space between your two mouths. “We both know why I’m doing this, I need to take my mind off things. I don’t get why you’re doing this.” You murmur against her lips. You need to know why, to be sure she wants this.
Alexia’s eyes are dark with want, her breathing uneven. You can’t even imagine what she looks like when she’s close to coming undone. You want to discover that. “Maybe I just want to fuck you.” Her voice is lower than usual. Your brain short-circuits. For a few seconds, there's nothing but a buzzing sound. That might be the hottest thing you’ve heard in your life. You weren’t expecting Alexia of all people to say that.
As soon as thoughts come back, you kiss her again, this time more hungrily, teeth clash but neither of you care. Her hands slide under your shirt. Her palms are warm, almost sweaty. The heat of her skin against yours makes you feel like you're completely overheating. You pull back just enough to yank the fabric over your head, tossing it blindly across the room.
Alexia's eyes fix on the newly revealed skin. She has seen you like that plenty of times in a locker room. You will admit the context is a bit different. “You’re beautiful,” she breathes out. She puts her hands on the small of your back to push you closer to her, soft with her movements. She is too when she discovers your neck with her mouth. She takes her time to figure out what you like, the spots that make your breath hitch. You hump against her thigh and you can feel her smile in your neck.
Deciding Alexia is wearing far too many clothes, you reach for the hem of her shirt. You both end up laughing as you awkwardly struggle with the fabric, but you finally manage to yank it off and toss it blindly into the room. Looking down at her, your smile turns hungry. She is nothing but muscle, and you want to feel every bit of it under your palms and lips. You catch her earlobe between your teeth in a gentle nip. “Everything still okay ?”
She laughs softly. “More than okay cariño.” You weren’t expecting the endearment term, but you don’t dislike it. Your mouth goes to her neck, and her breathing stops for a second or two. You test things. First, you bite softly and she lets out a small moan, so you do it more. Then, you realize kisses don’t have much effect, so you bite and lick instead. You’re very careful to not leave anything close to a mark, that would be very hard to explain for her.
“Lie down,” you murmur. She doesn't hesitate, shifting lower until she’s flat on the mattress. Straddling her hips, you look down at her. She is a glorious sight. As your hand strokes down her abs, she flexes beneath your touch. “Show off,” you tease, swatting at her playfully.
Her thighs spread, welcoming you into the space between them. As you lower yourself, you drag your teeth lightly along her collarbone. Her hips grind up against you in response, you anchor a hand firmly on her hip to pin her to the mattress.
You always love your first time with a woman because that’s when you totally discover her body. You take your sweet time with Alexia, and she’s not complaining. Her bra is on the floor a few minutes later. She has her hand in your hair while you’re worshiping her abs, to be fair they deserve it. You know she’s getting impatient when she starts to push your head down gently.
You smile and go lower. You remove her sweats and underwear in the same motion, the teasing has gone on long enough. You part her thighs and you’re out of words for how wet she is. “Don’t comment.” She groans out. You look up at her and her cheeks are pink, it’s kinda cute.
You honor her request and stay quiet. Instead of stopping the tease like you promised yourself, you trail slow licks and sharp bites down the inside of her thighs. Her muscles twitch against your lips. The moment you move directly over her heat, her body tenses in stark anticipation, your breath catching against her cunt.
When you finally comply and lick, her whole body reacts. Her hips jump up and you put your forearm around her midriff to stop that from happening again. Her moan is low, throaty, and dangerously loud considering your surroundings. “Ale, I love that sound,” you murmur against her skin, smoothing a kiss into her inner thigh, “but you can’t be this loud here.” Without a word, she pulls a pillow over her face to bury the noise. Fuck, you miss the sound already.
Navigating her pleasure is harder in the silence, but you read her body instead. The way her hand knots into your hair, the sudden, sharp tension in her muscles. You lose all sense of time, you could spend a lifetime right here. Every low rumble buried in the pillow urges you onward. You press a single finger to her entrance, looking up to catch her eye. “Can I ?”
She gets the pillow away from her face for a second. “You don’t need to ask.” Her voice is a mess, low, hoarse, broken, you can’t believe you’ve done it. She’s pushing your head down to where it was before. Your finger enters her without any resistance, you can tell she’s already really close. You immediately enter a second one.
Her walls pulse around your fingers while your tongue keeps up its steady rhythm. It doesn’t take long for her to completely break. You feel the exact moment she comes undone. Her hips arch high against your mouth, chasing the friction, before she collapses back against the sheets. Not even the pillow can swallow the raw, broken cry she lets out.
You remove your fingers gently and move back up her body, leaving a wet trail while doing so. The pillow falls away from her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes still unfocused. You kiss her once, brief and soft, then again on her shoulder, tracing the curve of her waist while her breathing slowly settles.
As you linger over her shoulder, she hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at her. You can’t help the smile that breaks against her lips as you lean in. “You’re too smug,” she complains, though she doesn't pull away.
You kiss the line of her jaw and go to her ear. “You were so loud you needed a pillow to muffle your moans.” You say, your voice intentionally low, before tugging at the lobe with your teeth. She has an arm around your shoulders, her fingers dig into it at your words and you hiss because her nails are pointy.
You position yourselves on your arms so you can look down at her. “Do you still carry a strap in your suitcase ?” She rolls her eyes and swats at your shoulder while murmuring idiot. “Hey that was a genuine question.”
Her cheeks are tinted a bit pink, not from her orgasm. “I don’t have one at all times no. For quite obvious reasons I wasn’t planning to get lucky during camp.” You hum and press your mouth to the hollow of her throat, feeling the frantic pulse against your lips.
“So you were planning to get lucky during your trip to Valencia ?” It’s half teasing and half genuine curiosity. Her breath catches when you scrape your teeth against her pulse point while your right hand starts to travel down her body, she shivers when you trace her ribs. You use your left arm to not put your whole weight on her.
“Yeah, I have a girl I was seeing– Fuck.” She stops when your hand reaches the inside of her thigh and your short nails dig into the soft flesh there. You smile against her shoulder and bite it. “Why are you asking these questions right now ?” She complains.
Your hand moves between her legs, your index finger tests how wet she still is, careful to still avoid her clit for now. She’s drenched, some new wetness already coating your fingers. “Maybe I just want to hear your voice.” It’s also some curiosity that came after Vicky told you the story. You’re quite satisfied that Alexia used the past tense when talking about the girl. You won’t dwell on that, not now, not anytime really.
Shifting downward, your mouth finds her breast, swirling your tongue over her skin before pulling her into your mouth. She clamps her forearm over her face, desperately hiding her moans. You let her go with a slow, teasing drag of your teeth. She drops her arm just long enough to glare at you. “I can’t believe that’s your choice of conversation.”
Your fingers toy with her entrance, brushing past her wetness but deliberately withholding what she wants. “I think that's a perfectly appropriate topic. I would love to use a strap on you.” The sheer bluntness of it makes her breath hitch. Before she can recover, you finally sink your fingers inside her, drawing out a low, throaty moan.
It takes her a moment to collect herself enough to talk back. “I had no idea you would be such a yapper.” You chuckle against her skin, raising some goosebumps as your tongue moves to her other breast. This time she anticipates the touch, quickly burying her face in her arm to muffle the sound. It’s a shame, you don’t want any teammates hearing you through the walls, but god, you want to hear her.
Your mouth travels up her chest, a sharp bite to her forearm prompting her to uncover her face. “Imagined sex with me a lot, Putellas ?” You don’t give her a chance to answer as your fingers start moving inside her again, catching her gasp with a kiss. You track her reactions through pure instinct, the intakes of breath when you do certain movements, her fingers gripping your hip every time you hit that spot.
The kisses start to get messy the moment your thumb grazes her clit. She loses her composure completely, unraveling into a mix of breathless Catalan you don’t understand and raw noises you can’t hope to muffle. To quiet her down, you press closer, offering your shoulder for her to bite. It makes the movements a little clumsy, the angle a bit awkward, but you maneuver around it, keeping your fingers moving in a steady rhythm.
You will be able to hide the bruise on your shoulder, but your back is going to be a disaster if she keeps clawing at your skin. “Easy with the nails, tiger,” you gasp against her hair, “you’ll leave marks.” She doesn’t say anything, but she takes the hint, wrapping her hands back around your hips and smoothing her palms flat against your skin.
Her teeth on your shoulder sting, but it’s the kind of sharp pain that only feeds the pleasure. Sensing how close she is, you lock into the rhythm, driving into what’s working. Then, she snaps. Her body arches in a mirror image of her first orgasm, her teeth sinking agonizingly deep into your shoulder as she clamps down impossibly tight around your fingers. A second later, just like that, the tension breaks, and she falls quiet against the bed.
You’re careful when you remove your fingers. Alexia still has her eyes shut, breathing heavily, her whole body covered in sweat. You want to take a mental picture because she looks like a work of art. You’re proud to have done it.
She comes back to her senses slowly. When her eyes finally open, you hold her gaze and make a show of sucking your soaked fingers, drawing a breathless laugh from her. But as her eyes drift to your shoulder, her smile fades into a wince. “I didn’t realize I was biting so hard. I’m sorry,” she says softly, tracing her thumb over the rapidly forming bruise.
“Don't worry. If it had been too much, I would've told you,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her gently. Her breathing is finally evening out, her skin growing cooler and less flushed as the adrenaline begins to fade.
Her gaze drifts down your body, her eyebrows arching. “How the hell do you still have so many clothes?” she asks. You shrug, looking down at your intact bra and sweatpants. You hadn’t really noticed the layers while your focus was entirely on making her come, but now that the dust has settled, a heavy, demanding ache is building between your thighs.
“It’s supposed to be your job to remove them,” you tease. “You’re not even the one who removed my shirt.”
An arm locks around your hips as she suddenly reverses your positions, settling herself firmly on top of you. “I had no idea you would be such a brat in bed.” Letting out a soft laugh, you guide her jaw down to meet your mouth, biting gently at her bottom lip before releasing it.
You lick her lips teasingly. “You don’t seem to mind it much.”
“I’m gonna shut you up,” she promises, her breath hot against your lips. She presses a hard kiss to your mouth, then drags her lips down your jaw to the hollow of your neck. Her untied hair brushes softly over your collarbone.
She starts nipping too hard against the sensitive skin, forcing a hiss from your throat. “Hey, easier on the teeth. I don’t mind them later on, but it’s too much right now.” She breathes an apology against your throat, instantly adjusting. Driven by the ache between your legs, you push down on her shoulder. “Ale, hurry up.” Before you can move her, she grabs your wrist, holding you completely still.
“Let me enjoy you,” she retorts, her mouth lingering at the top of your chest. Your throat goes completely dry. Looking down at her, you realize you would let Alexia do absolutely whatever she wants to you.
Then, she abruptly sits up. “I need a hair tie.” You let out a miserable groan at the sudden loss of her weight on top of you as she pads toward the bathroom. In the sudden quiet, a flicker of doubt creeps in about what the hell you’re doing. It evaporates the second she steps back out, twisting her hair into a messy bun. You take the opportunity to shamelessly drink in the sight of her naked body. Fuck, she’s a goddess.
She climbs back over you, settling into her position on top while you loop your arms securely around her shoulders. Her mouth returns to the top of your chest, but she pauses, looking up at you as her fingers play with the clasp of your bra, silently waiting for your consent. A single nod is all it takes, and she doesn’t waste a second.
Her grin turns almost boyish as she unhooks the fabric, stripping your bra away and tossing it aside. “You’re gorgeous,” she whispers against your skin before drawing one of your nipples into her mouth. Your back arches instinctively at the sudden rush of pleasure, prompting her to press a heavy hand down to steady your hips. She takes her time painting your chest with her tongue, sending waves of heat rippling through your entire body.
When she finally migrates lower, she stops at your stomach, mapping your abs with a slow, passionate mix of lips and tongue. “I have better abs than you, don’t I?” you tease, panting slightly. In lieu of an answer, she presses her thigh firmly up between your legs. The sound you let out is close to a whimper, but nobody can prove it.
“Seems like I found a way to shut you up,” she teases back. She bites gently at your stomach, testing your reaction. The desperate way you grind your hips against her thigh in response seems to give her all the satisfaction she needs.
Her hand toys with the waistband of your sweats. “Don't be a tease,” you breathe out. She tugs them down the moment you lift your hips to help her, discarding the fabric somewhere in the room. A sharp gasp escapes your lips when the chill of the A/C strikes your flushed skin.
Alexia parts your thighs with her hands, her gaze darkening. “Fuck, you’re wet. Are you turned on by your own talking ?”
You let out a breathy laugh at her words. “Your lips and tongue may have played some part too,” you admit.
She looks up at you with a radiant smile, she kisses a tender spot above your knee, her palms sliding up your inner thighs. But as her fingers start to graze your center, you grip her wrist, holding her back. Alexia instantly freezes, concern replacing the heat in her dark, dilated eyes. “Is everything okay ?”
You’re deeply touched by her immediate softness. “Yes, amor,” you murmur, the pet name slipping out naturally in your eagerness to reassure her. “It’s just that those nails aren’t going inside me.” Alexia looks down at her hands and winces in realization. The press-ons are long, and they’re the kind of pointy you don’t want to take any risks with.
“I know how to use them, it won’t hurt,” she promises softly.
You look down at her hands again. A girl had told you that exact same thing once, and you’d ended up sidelined for a week. Having to explain that particular injury to the club physios was easily the most humiliating moment of your life. “Still a no,” you state firmly.
She nods, letting the matter drop without any further argument. “If I’d known this was happening, I would have taken them off,” she whines.
Sorry Alexia, next time I will tell you in advance “Hey just so you know in a few hours I’m gonna be mad enough to fuck someone I absolutely shouldn’t be fucking.
You push the intrusive thought far away before it can ruin the momentum. Instead, you cup her chin with your right hand, tilting her face up to force her to look at you while your thumb caresses her cheek. “You do realize you have other ways to pleasure me besides your fingers, right ?”
A small fire relights in her eyes as a wicked smile creeps across her face. She plants one last kiss above your knee, her lips trailing a slow path back up your inner thigh before she finally settles herself between your legs. Strands of loose hair escape her bun, brushing softly against your skin. When she finally looks up at you, her expression is completely sinful.
“What do you want ?” She’s so close that the warm air of her breath brushes against your skin as she speaks, making you shudder.
“What do think, Alexia ?” you reply, thoroughly exasperated. Of all the times for her to play dumb, she picks right now.
“I don’t know,” she whispers, refusing to break eye contact. Her nails trail a light, maddening scratch across your abs, driving you absolutely crazy. “Want to play some poker ?”
“I think it’s a bit too late for strip poker, Ale.” You know exactly what she wants, she's waiting for you to ask her to eat you out. But two can play this game.
The low huff of her laughter sends a rush of warm air over your center, making you twitch. “I won’t get you to beg for it ?” She mocks disappointment, but the playful glint in her eyes tells you she’s secretly thrilled by your resistance. Sliding her palm upward, she presses it flat against your sternum, feeling your heart hammering wildly beneath her touch. Despite your defiant words, she knows exactly what kind of effect she has on you.
“You’ll need to do better than that next time, Capi.” You don’t know if it’s the challenge, the promise of a next time, or the deliberate use of her title that makes something snap inside her. Frankly, you don't care, because her tongue finally connects with your clit. You aren't usually the loudest, but the sudden contact forces a low, trembling moan from your throat.
“Careful of the noise, cariño,” she murmurs against your skin. In response, you press your heel firmly into her spine, pushing her back down between your thighs to make her understand she needs to get to work. A muffled huff of laughter escapes her against your sensitive skin, entirely amused by your impatience.
As she goes down on you, you guide her rhythm, adjusting her pace with a mix of breathless words and guiding hands. She is incredibly good at following orders, you quickly realize. The sensation of her mouth feels so much better than any of the thoughts you're trying to outrun. Tangling your fingers into the loose strands of her bun, you cup the back of her neck, tugging sharply whenever she hits the perfect spot. Meanwhile, your free hand blindly traces the sharp line of her jaw, mapping its rhythm as she drives you out of your mind.
Once you start getting close, you whisper, “Look at me.” The raw heat in her eyes is almost enough to push you over the edge on its own. When she begins to lower her gaze to bury herself back between your thighs, you command, “No, look at me while you do it.”
You refuse to break eye contact. The hand on her jaw shifts to the side of her face. Initially meant to direct her, it’s now the only thing keeping you anchored. Your other hand fists blindly into the sheets, white-knuckled and straining. Even though there is zero risk of her pulling away, your heels remain locked against her lower back, pinning her right where you want her.
You know she feels it the exact second your orgasm hits. It starts with a ragged gasp before you completely run out of air, your thighs locking tight as an electric rush fires through every cell of your body. She guides you through the crest of it, her tongue never missing a beat.
The moment it threatens to turn into overstimulation, you tap her cheek, and she gets the memo instantly. She trails slow, soothing kisses up your torso until her mouth meets yours, tasting yourself on her lips. You loop your arms around her shoulders, holding her steady while her head sinks into the crook of your neck as you slowly float back down to reality.
As your heart rate finally settles, you start tracing the exposed tattoos on her back with your fingertips. You don’t ask about their meanings, and she seems perfectly content with the quiet intimacy for a few minutes. “I’m gonna fall asleep,” she whispers, her breath warm against your neck.
You kiss the crown of her head, and she burrows deeper into your side. “We should at least take a shower,” you murmur. She groans in protest, even though she knows you’re right. “Come on, Capi.” You give her ass a light, playful slap to tell her it's time to move, and she instantly nips at your neck in revenge. Laughing, you untangle yourself from her and stand up. Left without your warmth, it doesn’t take her long to follow your lead.
Getting clean takes a while, given how much kissing and touching happens under the water, but you eventually finish. You quickly discover that Alexia is a massive cuddler after sex, and you find yourself liking it a lot. It takes zero convincing on her part to get you to spend the night. She offers you some of her clothes to sleep in, but you almost left the room entirely when she tried to hand you a pair of Barça shorts. Plain cotton ones had to do instead.
You settle onto the bed, laying back with her resting on top of you just like before. Her hair is untied now, draping over her bare back as you slowly run your fingers through the damp strands. “I still find it so funny that you’re such a yapper in the bedroom when you’re not like that at all in real life,” she teases softly.
A sudden wave of self-consciousness hits you, even though you know it’s stupid. “Tell me if you want me to tone it down,” you say, though it sounds a bit more broken than intended. Some of your exes hated that, and you had to make conscious efforts to tone it down with them, so you know you can.
Alexia instantly shifts from her comfortable spot against your chest to look you in the eyes. “Hey, it wasn’t a criticism. I think it’s incredibly hot.” She presses a tender kiss to your cheek, then another to your lips. You could easily get used to this. Fuck, that's a dangerous thought. Suddenly, her gaze drifts to your shoulder and she winces. “Are you sure my biting didn’t hurt too much? It looks pretty bad.”
“I already told you it was okay Ale.” You put your hand around her hips and tug her back down on top of you. “I will figure something out to hide it.”
Neither of you asks what tonight means, or if it will ever happen again. There is no easy answer to that. Or, at least, none that would satisfy either of you right now. It’s still early, considering you arrived just after dinner, but exhaustion is finally catching up to you.
You’re already starting to drift off when Alexia shatters the quiet by bringing up the one topic you wanted to avoid. “You should really start talking about your contract, you know,” she says softly. “Not necessarily with me, but if you just let the clock run out without weighing your options, you're going to regret it. Even if you would have chosen Real anyway.”
You let out a long sigh. Maybe it’s because you’re in a great mood after the sex, but your mouth talks for you. “It’s just… It feels like there is what I want to do and there is the rational thing to do.”
Alexia hums in acknowledgement. “I feel like the heart should always beat the reason. But that’s particularly true in your situation.” Maybe Alexia is an idealist, you’re not. You’re so fucking afraid of making the wrong choice.
“I feel like my heart is telling me to stay just because it’s safe, not because it’s the best choice.” Staying at Madrid where friends, family, and your childhood club are is just so easy. You’re not sure it’s what’s best for your career.
“You’re looking at it too much like there is a good and a wrong answer.” Her tone is soft, her thumb is caressing your side, the words still sting. “Career choices are rarely that easy. You have to choose what is the most likely to make you the happiest in the long run. And that depends on a ton of things : winning trophies, money, closeness to family and friends, the atmosphere in the club you’re joining, the city you’re going to. And happiness isn’t a perfect equation, especially when it’s related to football where results can’t be predicted. You can make the right choice on paper and have it end up being the wrong one because life happens.”
“Very reassuring.” You say ironically. Alexia is trying and you’re maybe being a little too mean. “Thank you, for the words. I think I have trouble figuring out how happy football can make me.” That’s not an admission you make often. You love football with your whole heart, you’re not sure you want it to be your whole life.
“What do you mean ?” You can hear she’s perplexed, it must be confusing for Alexia to hear someone say that.
“It’s just… I’ve never won at club level, so I don’t know how much winning makes it worth it. I’ve also never been the closest of friends with my teammates. Like yeah, I will hang out with them outside of the mandatory things from time to time, but I don’t want my whole circle to be about it. In Madrid, most of the people I hang out with don’t give a fuck about football. I feel like having a life outside of it makes it easier to commit to it when I’m actually on the pitch or training. Like it’s easier to not burn out.”
That’s why I never messed with another footballer before, you add mentally.
You continue. “Munich was miserable for that. I didn’t really realize it at the time because I couldn’t compare. But god, I’ve been so much happier in Madrid. At the same time maybe it was only the context, maybe I was too young when I went to Bayern. It would be perfect if there was another club in Spain I could go to, so I could still be fairly close to everyone. But I’m never going to Barcelona.”
“I mean you could consider it.” You roll your eyes and gently bite her earlobe, she jumps in surprise. “Idiot.” She mumbles.
“I think… I would love to experience somewhere else, just for one year and if I’m miserable, I can go back. But I’m afraid of burning bridges with Real. And I’m afraid that they’re gonna perform while I’m gone. Imagine if Real reaches the semis of the Champions League the season I’m not here ? I would be miserable. Why can’t I fucking duplicate myself.”
She laughs softly at your words. Then takes a more serious tone. “You’re linking the comfortable choice with it being the bad choice. As you said, football isn’t what you are.” She takes a deep breath. “Everyone tells me football is too much what I am, you know. Even Jenni told me that.” Her laugh is almost bitter. “Olga told me that all the time too.”
“Wait, Olga as in our teammate, since when ?” You interrupt, trying to make some sense.
“No !” She laughs. “Olga is the name of my ex, she has nothing to do with football.” That was an awkward mistake to make on your part. “Anyway, my injury forced me to reconsider things. I was actually more available for my friends and family, hanging out with them more. I realized everything I was missing out on because of football. It’s so easy to get caught up with the constant pressure from everyone : the media, the fans, the front office…”
“Do you think you would have left Barça at one point, if not for the injury ?” You’re curious.
“Yeah.” She answers honestly. “And then I would have realized everything that’s not football that I have in Barcelona.” There’s a pause. “To be clear, I’m not saying our situations are entirely comparable. I have the luck that my childhood city also has the best club in Europe. It’s easier to stay when you’re winning everything, it would be stupid not to. I just wanted to say to not push aside too much the outside of football aspects when taking the decision.”
“Thank you, a lot.” You say sincerely. You kiss the top of her head. “I think it really helps to talk about it, it’s just hard to.”
“Anytime.” She answers without hesitation. She snuggles even closer to you. “We should go to sleep.”
You look at your phone, it’s only 10PM, why did you decide to be a professional athlete again ? “Yeah, I will put my alarm early so I can go back to my room with Vicky before she wakes up. I will just tell her I came back late in the night.”
“Okay,” Alexia says softly. She moves to turn off the bedside lamps as you set up the alarm to 6AM. Once the room is dark, she gets back to her previous position on top of you. She kisses you, a long one but without heat behind it, before her head settles on your shoulder. One of your arms circles her waist, while the other circles her shoulders. “Goodnight cariño,” she whispers.
“Goodnight Ale,” you whisper back. In the back of your mind, a million alarm bells are screaming at you, a frantic reminder of just how compromising this situation truly is. But exhaustion has taken over. Wrapped up in her warmth, you let her touch drown out the noise until there is nothing left but silence.
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A/n : It was my first time writing smut, I'm quite happy with how it turned out (Don't ask me how much time I spent writing and rewriting it, I know the whole scene by heart now). I hope it doesn't feel too rushed.
Also because it has been a subject recently, having short/long nails doesn't correlate to being a lesbian and/or in a relationship. r just doesn't like the idea of them inside her ✌️
new chapter where we have smut that is HOT but also sweet and realistic and they are super cute together? am i in heaven? this was so gooooood, congrats on another great chapter
Beyond the Badge | Alexia Putellas x reader - Part 4
Part 4
Summary : You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Real Madrid! Reader
Word count : 6.5k
Warnings : 18+ (smut), I won't put a warning for every chapter that contains some. I'm putting it on this one because it's the first one that does.
Masterlist
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You barely register the walk to her room. Your feet carry you there, through long corridors you learned by heart through the years. 119 is written in golden letters on a plate just next to the door, “Alexia Putellas” is taped up under it, as if to remind you what you’re walking into.
You don’t even overthink it. Your breathing is still ragged, you feel 30 seconds away from collapsing. You knock on the door, Alexia answers immediately, as if she has been waiting next to it. You don’t spare her a look and go lie down on the bed, throwing your slides on the floor. You put your head in the pillow and scream in frustration.
“Hey.” Alexia says softly. She comes to sit on the other side of the bed, close to you. She caresses your back up and down in comfort. “What’s wrong ?” You can hear the worry in her voice. To be fair, it must be confusing to her.
You groan and turn your head toward her. Her eyes are full of compassion. God, you love those eyes. “My agent called, about the contract.” You scrub a hand over your face. “I still have no freaking idea what I want to do.” You feel a lump in your throat, you absolutely won’t cry in front of her. Not because of a contract.
You take a deep breath to calm yourself. “Then there is the whole shitshow created by Vicky. I’m not literally mad at her but fuck with this whole contract thing it’s starting to be too much.” You’re rambling, she doesn’t stop you.
Her thumb traces slow circles between your shoulder blades, and it feels good, it’s grounding. You could get lost against the sensation, feeling the warmth of her palm even through your shirt.
“What can I do to help ?” Alexia is nice, too fucking nice. And her eyes are soft and–. “Hey, calm down, you’re shaking.” You haven’t even realized you were, you try to breathe in and out, it isn’t working much. She presses down her hand against your lower back, you shiver at the sensation.
She misinterprets your reaction and pulls her hand back slightly, hovering in a rare moment of awkwardness. She looks like she doesn’t know quite how to comfort you, and honestly, you can’t blame her.
You take a deep breath once your heartbeat stops pounding in your temple. “I’m sorry for coming here every time I’m overwhelmed.”
She furrows her eyebrows. “Hey no.” She says quickly. “You can come here anytime you need.”
The words land somewhere behind your ribs. Suddenly looking at her feels like a terrible idea. “What a good captain.” You deflect. How weird would it be for you to run away right now ? Because you definitely trust neither your instincts nor your mind right now.
She rolls her eyes, annoyed at you. “You know I’m not doing that just because I’m your captain.” You’re not that convinced it’s true. “And I have a single room, I'd be alone otherwise.”
You chuckle, starting to finally not feel like you’re gonna break down in an instant. “Oh yeah poor you, we can switch if it’s making you suffer too much.”
“We could.” Her tone is too serious for your liking.
“I was kidding Ale. I don’t have a problem with sharing my room.”
She searches your face, relaxing at whatever she finds there. She doesn’t push. “You’re feeling a bit better ?”
You nod, better because you don’t feel like you’re gonna implode. You can still feel how tense your body is. The conversation with your agent is playing on loop in your brain. Her presence is the only thing soothing your mind, you want to feel her palm against your back again.
Alexia still has a worried look, something in your chest goes soft at the sight. You look at her face, your mind can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is. Her eyes, her lips, the feeling of her body against yours after the game against England, the way she has been opening her door without question for you. The adrenaline of panic is morphing into something else.
You also need a distraction, badly.
“Do you want to help me make a very bad decision right now ?” Confusion is written all over her face. Then your gaze drops to her lips, completely devoid of subtlety, before snapping back to her eyes. You watch recognition flare in them, followed by something much heavier.
She seems to hesitate. “I don’t want to take advantage of the state you’re in,” she whispers. Her jaw tenses. She looks away, then back at you. For a second you feel a cold shiver, worried you’ve gone too far. Then her eyes can’t stop themselves from looking down at your lips, and you exhale.
“Ale.” Her eyes snap back to yours. She’s on the edge of a cliff, you need to convince her to jump. “It’s not the first time I’m thinking about it,” you admit.
Her throat bobs, her eyes fluttering shut for a fraction of a second. Then, the distance between you vanishes. Her lips are soft against yours. Instinct takes over, your hand flies to her jaw, your thumb tracing her cheekbone. It feels great, more than great. Your mind goes blank while butterflies explode in your stomach, heat rushes through you so quickly it leaves you lightheaded.
She breaks the kiss first. When your eyes open, she’s already staring down at you, searching. She is entirely breathtaking. A smile breaks across her face, wider and softer than any victory you’ve ever seen her celebrate on the pitch.
The first words she says are “You see I was right to be trying to fix everything from the start.” She seems happy with herself, the words take a moment to register.
Oh yeah, you did basically tell her she was too much of a try hard when captaining the team. You can’t believe she’s thinking about that right now. She adds smugly “I’m a great captain, ain’t I ?” You shut her up with a second kiss. She smiles against your lips before melting when she feels your tongue.
Somehow you end up in her lap, her hands firm against your hips, grabbing the fabric of your shirt. When the kiss breaks because you unfortunately are both humans that need air, you press open mouth kisses on her jaw. You then lick the length of it. Alexia murmurs a curse and you kiss her again.
You put a centimeter of space between your two mouths. “We both know why I’m doing this, I need to take my mind off things. I don’t get why you’re doing this.” You murmur against her lips. You need to know why, to be sure she wants this.
Alexia’s eyes are dark with want, her breathing uneven. You can’t even imagine what she looks like when she’s close to coming undone. You want to discover that. “Maybe I just want to fuck you.” Her voice is lower than usual. Your brain short-circuits. For a few seconds, there's nothing but a buzzing sound. That might be the hottest thing you’ve heard in your life. You weren’t expecting Alexia of all people to say that.
As soon as thoughts come back, you kiss her again, this time more hungrily, teeth clash but neither of you care. Her hands slide under your shirt. Her palms are warm, almost sweaty. The heat of her skin against yours makes you feel like you're completely overheating. You pull back just enough to yank the fabric over your head, tossing it blindly across the room.
Alexia's eyes fix on the newly revealed skin. She has seen you like that plenty of times in a locker room. You will admit the context is a bit different. “You’re beautiful,” she breathes out. She puts her hands on the small of your back to push you closer to her, soft with her movements. She is too when she discovers your neck with her mouth. She takes her time to figure out what you like, the spots that make your breath hitch. You hump against her thigh and you can feel her smile in your neck.
Deciding Alexia is wearing far too many clothes, you reach for the hem of her shirt. You both end up laughing as you awkwardly struggle with the fabric, but you finally manage to yank it off and toss it blindly into the room. Looking down at her, your smile turns hungry. She is nothing but muscle, and you want to feel every bit of it under your palms and lips. You catch her earlobe between your teeth in a gentle nip. “Everything still okay ?”
She laughs softly. “More than okay cariño.” You weren’t expecting the endearment term, but you don’t dislike it. Your mouth goes to her neck, and her breathing stops for a second or two. You test things. First, you bite softly and she lets out a small moan, so you do it more. Then, you realize kisses don’t have much effect, so you bite and lick instead. You’re very careful to not leave anything close to a mark, that would be very hard to explain for her.
“Lie down,” you murmur. She doesn't hesitate, shifting lower until she’s flat on the mattress. Straddling her hips, you look down at her. She is a glorious sight. As your hand strokes down her abs, she flexes beneath your touch. “Show off,” you tease, swatting at her playfully.
Her thighs spread, welcoming you into the space between them. As you lower yourself, you drag your teeth lightly along her collarbone. Her hips grind up against you in response, you anchor a hand firmly on her hip to pin her to the mattress.
You always love your first time with a woman because that’s when you totally discover her body. You take your sweet time with Alexia, and she’s not complaining. Her bra is on the floor a few minutes later. She has her hand in your hair while you’re worshiping her abs, to be fair they deserve it. You know she’s getting impatient when she starts to push your head down gently.
You smile and go lower. You remove her sweats and underwear in the same motion, the teasing has gone on long enough. You part her thighs and you’re out of words for how wet she is. “Don’t comment.” She groans out. You look up at her and her cheeks are pink, it’s kinda cute.
You honor her request and stay quiet. Instead of stopping the tease like you promised yourself, you trail slow licks and sharp bites down the inside of her thighs. Her muscles twitch against your lips. The moment you move directly over her heat, her body tenses in stark anticipation, your breath catching against her cunt.
When you finally comply and lick, her whole body reacts. Her hips jump up and you put your forearm around her midriff to stop that from happening again. Her moan is low, throaty, and dangerously loud considering your surroundings. “Ale, I love that sound,” you murmur against her skin, smoothing a kiss into her inner thigh, “but you can’t be this loud here.” Without a word, she pulls a pillow over her face to bury the noise. Fuck, you miss the sound already.
Navigating her pleasure is harder in the silence, but you read her body instead. The way her hand knots into your hair, the sudden, sharp tension in her muscles. You lose all sense of time, you could spend a lifetime right here. Every low rumble buried in the pillow urges you onward. You press a single finger to her entrance, looking up to catch her eye. “Can I ?”
She gets the pillow away from her face for a second. “You don’t need to ask.” Her voice is a mess, low, hoarse, broken, you can’t believe you’ve done it. She’s pushing your head down to where it was before. Your finger enters her without any resistance, you can tell she’s already really close. You immediately enter a second one.
Her walls pulse around your fingers while your tongue keeps up its steady rhythm. It doesn’t take long for her to completely break. You feel the exact moment she comes undone. Her hips arch high against your mouth, chasing the friction, before she collapses back against the sheets. Not even the pillow can swallow the raw, broken cry she lets out.
You remove your fingers gently and move back up her body, leaving a wet trail while doing so. The pillow falls away from her face. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes still unfocused. You kiss her once, brief and soft, then again on her shoulder, tracing the curve of her waist while her breathing slowly settles.
As you linger over her shoulder, she hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at her. You can’t help the smile that breaks against her lips as you lean in. “You’re too smug,” she complains, though she doesn't pull away.
You kiss the line of her jaw and go to her ear. “You were so loud you needed a pillow to muffle your moans.” You say, your voice intentionally low, before tugging at the lobe with your teeth. She has an arm around your shoulders, her fingers dig into it at your words and you hiss because her nails are pointy.
You position yourselves on your arms so you can look down at her. “Do you still carry a strap in your suitcase ?” She rolls her eyes and swats at your shoulder while murmuring idiot. “Hey that was a genuine question.”
Her cheeks are tinted a bit pink, not from her orgasm. “I don’t have one at all times no. For quite obvious reasons I wasn’t planning to get lucky during camp.” You hum and press your mouth to the hollow of her throat, feeling the frantic pulse against your lips.
“So you were planning to get lucky during your trip to Valencia ?” It’s half teasing and half genuine curiosity. Her breath catches when you scrape your teeth against her pulse point while your right hand starts to travel down her body, she shivers when you trace her ribs. You use your left arm to not put your whole weight on her.
“Yeah, I have a girl I was seeing– Fuck.” She stops when your hand reaches the inside of her thigh and your short nails dig into the soft flesh there. You smile against her shoulder and bite it. “Why are you asking these questions right now ?” She complains.
Your hand moves between her legs, your index finger tests how wet she still is, careful to still avoid her clit for now. She’s drenched, some new wetness already coating your fingers. “Maybe I just want to hear your voice.” It’s also some curiosity that came after Vicky told you the story. You’re quite satisfied that Alexia used the past tense when talking about the girl. You won’t dwell on that, not now, not anytime really.
Shifting downward, your mouth finds her breast, swirling your tongue over her skin before pulling her into your mouth. She clamps her forearm over her face, desperately hiding her moans. You let her go with a slow, teasing drag of your teeth. She drops her arm just long enough to glare at you. “I can’t believe that’s your choice of conversation.”
Your fingers toy with her entrance, brushing past her wetness but deliberately withholding what she wants. “I think that's a perfectly appropriate topic. I would love to use a strap on you.” The sheer bluntness of it makes her breath hitch. Before she can recover, you finally sink your fingers inside her, drawing out a low, throaty moan.
It takes her a moment to collect herself enough to talk back. “I had no idea you would be such a yapper.” You chuckle against her skin, raising some goosebumps as your tongue moves to her other breast. This time she anticipates the touch, quickly burying her face in her arm to muffle the sound. It’s a shame, you don’t want any teammates hearing you through the walls, but god, you want to hear her.
Your mouth travels up her chest, a sharp bite to her forearm prompting her to uncover her face. “Imagined sex with me a lot, Putellas ?” You don’t give her a chance to answer as your fingers start moving inside her again, catching her gasp with a kiss. You track her reactions through pure instinct, the intakes of breath when you do certain movements, her fingers gripping your hip every time you hit that spot.
The kisses start to get messy the moment your thumb grazes her clit. She loses her composure completely, unraveling into a mix of breathless Catalan you don’t understand and raw noises you can’t hope to muffle. To quiet her down, you press closer, offering your shoulder for her to bite. It makes the movements a little clumsy, the angle a bit awkward, but you maneuver around it, keeping your fingers moving in a steady rhythm.
You will be able to hide the bruise on your shoulder, but your back is going to be a disaster if she keeps clawing at your skin. “Easy with the nails, tiger,” you gasp against her hair, “you’ll leave marks.” She doesn’t say anything, but she takes the hint, wrapping her hands back around your hips and smoothing her palms flat against your skin.
Her teeth on your shoulder sting, but it’s the kind of sharp pain that only feeds the pleasure. Sensing how close she is, you lock into the rhythm, driving into what’s working. Then, she snaps. Her body arches in a mirror image of her first orgasm, her teeth sinking agonizingly deep into your shoulder as she clamps down impossibly tight around your fingers. A second later, just like that, the tension breaks, and she falls quiet against the bed.
You’re careful when you remove your fingers. Alexia still has her eyes shut, breathing heavily, her whole body covered in sweat. You want to take a mental picture because she looks like a work of art. You’re proud to have done it.
She comes back to her senses slowly. When her eyes finally open, you hold her gaze and make a show of sucking your soaked fingers, drawing a breathless laugh from her. But as her eyes drift to your shoulder, her smile fades into a wince. “I didn’t realize I was biting so hard. I’m sorry,” she says softly, tracing her thumb over the rapidly forming bruise.
“Don't worry. If it had been too much, I would've told you,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss her gently. Her breathing is finally evening out, her skin growing cooler and less flushed as the adrenaline begins to fade.
Her gaze drifts down your body, her eyebrows arching. “How the hell do you still have so many clothes?” she asks. You shrug, looking down at your intact bra and sweatpants. You hadn’t really noticed the layers while your focus was entirely on making her come, but now that the dust has settled, a heavy, demanding ache is building between your thighs.
“It’s supposed to be your job to remove them,” you tease. “You’re not even the one who removed my shirt.”
An arm locks around your hips as she suddenly reverses your positions, settling herself firmly on top of you. “I had no idea you would be such a brat in bed.” Letting out a soft laugh, you guide her jaw down to meet your mouth, biting gently at her bottom lip before releasing it.
You lick her lips teasingly. “You don’t seem to mind it much.”
“I’m gonna shut you up,” she promises, her breath hot against your lips. She presses a hard kiss to your mouth, then drags her lips down your jaw to the hollow of your neck. Her untied hair brushes softly over your collarbone.
She starts nipping too hard against the sensitive skin, forcing a hiss from your throat. “Hey, easier on the teeth. I don’t mind them later on, but it’s too much right now.” She breathes an apology against your throat, instantly adjusting. Driven by the ache between your legs, you push down on her shoulder. “Ale, hurry up.” Before you can move her, she grabs your wrist, holding you completely still.
“Let me enjoy you,” she retorts, her mouth lingering at the top of your chest. Your throat goes completely dry. Looking down at her, you realize you would let Alexia do absolutely whatever she wants to you.
Then, she abruptly sits up. “I need a hair tie.” You let out a miserable groan at the sudden loss of her weight on top of you as she pads toward the bathroom. In the sudden quiet, a flicker of doubt creeps in about what the hell you’re doing. It evaporates the second she steps back out, twisting her hair into a messy bun. You take the opportunity to shamelessly drink in the sight of her naked body. Fuck, she’s a goddess.
She climbs back over you, settling into her position on top while you loop your arms securely around her shoulders. Her mouth returns to the top of your chest, but she pauses, looking up at you as her fingers play with the clasp of your bra, silently waiting for your consent. A single nod is all it takes, and she doesn’t waste a second.
Her grin turns almost boyish as she unhooks the fabric, stripping your bra away and tossing it aside. “You’re gorgeous,” she whispers against your skin before drawing one of your nipples into her mouth. Your back arches instinctively at the sudden rush of pleasure, prompting her to press a heavy hand down to steady your hips. She takes her time painting your chest with her tongue, sending waves of heat rippling through your entire body.
When she finally migrates lower, she stops at your stomach, mapping your abs with a slow, passionate mix of lips and tongue. “I have better abs than you, don’t I?” you tease, panting slightly. In lieu of an answer, she presses her thigh firmly up between your legs. The sound you let out is close to a whimper, but nobody can prove it.
“Seems like I found a way to shut you up,” she teases back. She bites gently at your stomach, testing your reaction. The desperate way you grind your hips against her thigh in response seems to give her all the satisfaction she needs.
Her hand toys with the waistband of your sweats. “Don't be a tease,” you breathe out. She tugs them down the moment you lift your hips to help her, discarding the fabric somewhere in the room. A sharp gasp escapes your lips when the chill of the A/C strikes your flushed skin.
Alexia parts your thighs with her hands, her gaze darkening. “Fuck, you’re wet. Are you turned on by your own talking ?”
You let out a breathy laugh at her words. “Your lips and tongue may have played some part too,” you admit.
She looks up at you with a radiant smile, she kisses a tender spot above your knee, her palms sliding up your inner thighs. But as her fingers start to graze your center, you grip her wrist, holding her back. Alexia instantly freezes, concern replacing the heat in her dark, dilated eyes. “Is everything okay ?”
You’re deeply touched by her immediate softness. “Yes, amor,” you murmur, the pet name slipping out naturally in your eagerness to reassure her. “It’s just that those nails aren’t going inside me.” Alexia looks down at her hands and winces in realization. The press-ons are long, and they’re the kind of pointy you don’t want to take any risks with.
“I know how to use them, it won’t hurt,” she promises softly.
You look down at her hands again. A girl had told you that exact same thing once, and you’d ended up sidelined for a week. Having to explain that particular injury to the club physios was easily the most humiliating moment of your life. “Still a no,” you state firmly.
She nods, letting the matter drop without any further argument. “If I’d known this was happening, I would have taken them off,” she whines.
Sorry Alexia, next time I will tell you in advance “Hey just so you know in a few hours I’m gonna be mad enough to fuck someone I absolutely shouldn’t be fucking.
You push the intrusive thought far away before it can ruin the momentum. Instead, you cup her chin with your right hand, tilting her face up to force her to look at you while your thumb caresses her cheek. “You do realize you have other ways to pleasure me besides your fingers, right ?”
A small fire relights in her eyes as a wicked smile creeps across her face. She plants one last kiss above your knee, her lips trailing a slow path back up your inner thigh before she finally settles herself between your legs. Strands of loose hair escape her bun, brushing softly against your skin. When she finally looks up at you, her expression is completely sinful.
“What do you want ?” She’s so close that the warm air of her breath brushes against your skin as she speaks, making you shudder.
“What do think, Alexia ?” you reply, thoroughly exasperated. Of all the times for her to play dumb, she picks right now.
“I don’t know,” she whispers, refusing to break eye contact. Her nails trail a light, maddening scratch across your abs, driving you absolutely crazy. “Want to play some poker ?”
“I think it’s a bit too late for strip poker, Ale.” You know exactly what she wants, she's waiting for you to ask her to eat you out. But two can play this game.
The low huff of her laughter sends a rush of warm air over your center, making you twitch. “I won’t get you to beg for it ?” She mocks disappointment, but the playful glint in her eyes tells you she’s secretly thrilled by your resistance. Sliding her palm upward, she presses it flat against your sternum, feeling your heart hammering wildly beneath her touch. Despite your defiant words, she knows exactly what kind of effect she has on you.
“You’ll need to do better than that next time, Capi.” You don’t know if it’s the challenge, the promise of a next time, or the deliberate use of her title that makes something snap inside her. Frankly, you don't care, because her tongue finally connects with your clit. You aren't usually the loudest, but the sudden contact forces a low, trembling moan from your throat.
“Careful of the noise, cariño,” she murmurs against your skin. In response, you press your heel firmly into her spine, pushing her back down between your thighs to make her understand she needs to get to work. A muffled huff of laughter escapes her against your sensitive skin, entirely amused by your impatience.
As she goes down on you, you guide her rhythm, adjusting her pace with a mix of breathless words and guiding hands. She is incredibly good at following orders, you quickly realize. The sensation of her mouth feels so much better than any of the thoughts you're trying to outrun. Tangling your fingers into the loose strands of her bun, you cup the back of her neck, tugging sharply whenever she hits the perfect spot. Meanwhile, your free hand blindly traces the sharp line of her jaw, mapping its rhythm as she drives you out of your mind.
Once you start getting close, you whisper, “Look at me.” The raw heat in her eyes is almost enough to push you over the edge on its own. When she begins to lower her gaze to bury herself back between your thighs, you command, “No, look at me while you do it.”
You refuse to break eye contact. The hand on her jaw shifts to the side of her face. Initially meant to direct her, it’s now the only thing keeping you anchored. Your other hand fists blindly into the sheets, white-knuckled and straining. Even though there is zero risk of her pulling away, your heels remain locked against her lower back, pinning her right where you want her.
You know she feels it the exact second your orgasm hits. It starts with a ragged gasp before you completely run out of air, your thighs locking tight as an electric rush fires through every cell of your body. She guides you through the crest of it, her tongue never missing a beat.
The moment it threatens to turn into overstimulation, you tap her cheek, and she gets the memo instantly. She trails slow, soothing kisses up your torso until her mouth meets yours, tasting yourself on her lips. You loop your arms around her shoulders, holding her steady while her head sinks into the crook of your neck as you slowly float back down to reality.
As your heart rate finally settles, you start tracing the exposed tattoos on her back with your fingertips. You don’t ask about their meanings, and she seems perfectly content with the quiet intimacy for a few minutes. “I’m gonna fall asleep,” she whispers, her breath warm against your neck.
You kiss the crown of her head, and she burrows deeper into your side. “We should at least take a shower,” you murmur. She groans in protest, even though she knows you’re right. “Come on, Capi.” You give her ass a light, playful slap to tell her it's time to move, and she instantly nips at your neck in revenge. Laughing, you untangle yourself from her and stand up. Left without your warmth, it doesn’t take her long to follow your lead.
Getting clean takes a while, given how much kissing and touching happens under the water, but you eventually finish. You quickly discover that Alexia is a massive cuddler after sex, and you find yourself liking it a lot. It takes zero convincing on her part to get you to spend the night. She offers you some of her clothes to sleep in, but you almost left the room entirely when she tried to hand you a pair of Barça shorts. Plain cotton ones had to do instead.
You settle onto the bed, laying back with her resting on top of you just like before. Her hair is untied now, draping over her bare back as you slowly run your fingers through the damp strands. “I still find it so funny that you’re such a yapper in the bedroom when you’re not like that at all in real life,” she teases softly.
A sudden wave of self-consciousness hits you, even though you know it’s stupid. “Tell me if you want me to tone it down,” you say, though it sounds a bit more broken than intended. Some of your exes hated that, and you had to make conscious efforts to tone it down with them, so you know you can.
Alexia instantly shifts from her comfortable spot against your chest to look you in the eyes. “Hey, it wasn’t a criticism. I think it’s incredibly hot.” She presses a tender kiss to your cheek, then another to your lips. You could easily get used to this. Fuck, that's a dangerous thought. Suddenly, her gaze drifts to your shoulder and she winces. “Are you sure my biting didn’t hurt too much? It looks pretty bad.”
“I already told you it was okay Ale.” You put your hand around her hips and tug her back down on top of you. “I will figure something out to hide it.”
Neither of you asks what tonight means, or if it will ever happen again. There is no easy answer to that. Or, at least, none that would satisfy either of you right now. It’s still early, considering you arrived just after dinner, but exhaustion is finally catching up to you.
You’re already starting to drift off when Alexia shatters the quiet by bringing up the one topic you wanted to avoid. “You should really start talking about your contract, you know,” she says softly. “Not necessarily with me, but if you just let the clock run out without weighing your options, you're going to regret it. Even if you would have chosen Real anyway.”
You let out a long sigh. Maybe it’s because you’re in a great mood after the sex, but your mouth talks for you. “It’s just… It feels like there is what I want to do and there is the rational thing to do.”
Alexia hums in acknowledgement. “I feel like the heart should always beat the reason. But that’s particularly true in your situation.” Maybe Alexia is an idealist, you’re not. You’re so fucking afraid of making the wrong choice.
“I feel like my heart is telling me to stay just because it’s safe, not because it’s the best choice.” Staying at Madrid where friends, family, and your childhood club are is just so easy. You’re not sure it’s what’s best for your career.
“You’re looking at it too much like there is a good and a wrong answer.” Her tone is soft, her thumb is caressing your side, the words still sting. “Career choices are rarely that easy. You have to choose what is the most likely to make you the happiest in the long run. And that depends on a ton of things : winning trophies, money, closeness to family and friends, the atmosphere in the club you’re joining, the city you’re going to. And happiness isn’t a perfect equation, especially when it’s related to football where results can’t be predicted. You can make the right choice on paper and have it end up being the wrong one because life happens.”
“Very reassuring.” You say ironically. Alexia is trying and you’re maybe being a little too mean. “Thank you, for the words. I think I have trouble figuring out how happy football can make me.” That’s not an admission you make often. You love football with your whole heart, you’re not sure you want it to be your whole life.
“What do you mean ?” You can hear she’s perplexed, it must be confusing for Alexia to hear someone say that.
“It’s just… I’ve never won at club level, so I don’t know how much winning makes it worth it. I’ve also never been the closest of friends with my teammates. Like yeah, I will hang out with them outside of the mandatory things from time to time, but I don’t want my whole circle to be about it. In Madrid, most of the people I hang out with don’t give a fuck about football. I feel like having a life outside of it makes it easier to commit to it when I’m actually on the pitch or training. Like it’s easier to not burn out.”
That’s why I never messed with another footballer before, you add mentally.
You continue. “Munich was miserable for that. I didn’t really realize it at the time because I couldn’t compare. But god, I’ve been so much happier in Madrid. At the same time maybe it was only the context, maybe I was too young when I went to Bayern. It would be perfect if there was another club in Spain I could go to, so I could still be fairly close to everyone. But I’m never going to Barcelona.”
“I mean you could consider it.” You roll your eyes and gently bite her earlobe, she jumps in surprise. “Idiot.” She mumbles.
“I think… I would love to experience somewhere else, just for one year and if I’m miserable, I can go back. But I’m afraid of burning bridges with Real. And I’m afraid that they’re gonna perform while I’m gone. Imagine if Real reaches the semis of the Champions League the season I’m not here ? I would be miserable. Why can’t I fucking duplicate myself.”
She laughs softly at your words. Then takes a more serious tone. “You’re linking the comfortable choice with it being the bad choice. As you said, football isn’t what you are.” She takes a deep breath. “Everyone tells me football is too much what I am, you know. Even Jenni told me that.” Her laugh is almost bitter. “Olga told me that all the time too.”
“Wait, Olga as in our teammate, since when ?” You interrupt, trying to make some sense.
“No !” She laughs. “Olga is the name of my ex, she has nothing to do with football.” That was an awkward mistake to make on your part. “Anyway, my injury forced me to reconsider things. I was actually more available for my friends and family, hanging out with them more. I realized everything I was missing out on because of football. It’s so easy to get caught up with the constant pressure from everyone : the media, the fans, the front office…”
“Do you think you would have left Barça at one point, if not for the injury ?” You’re curious.
“Yeah.” She answers honestly. “And then I would have realized everything that’s not football that I have in Barcelona.” There’s a pause. “To be clear, I’m not saying our situations are entirely comparable. I have the luck that my childhood city also has the best club in Europe. It’s easier to stay when you’re winning everything, it would be stupid not to. I just wanted to say to not push aside too much the outside of football aspects when taking the decision.”
“Thank you, a lot.” You say sincerely. You kiss the top of her head. “I think it really helps to talk about it, it’s just hard to.”
“Anytime.” She answers without hesitation. She snuggles even closer to you. “We should go to sleep.”
You look at your phone, it’s only 10PM, why did you decide to be a professional athlete again ? “Yeah, I will put my alarm early so I can go back to my room with Vicky before she wakes up. I will just tell her I came back late in the night.”
“Okay,” Alexia says softly. She moves to turn off the bedside lamps as you set up the alarm to 6AM. Once the room is dark, she gets back to her previous position on top of you. She kisses you, a long one but without heat behind it, before her head settles on your shoulder. One of your arms circles her waist, while the other circles her shoulders. “Goodnight cariño,” she whispers.
“Goodnight Ale,” you whisper back. In the back of your mind, a million alarm bells are screaming at you, a frantic reminder of just how compromising this situation truly is. But exhaustion has taken over. Wrapped up in her warmth, you let her touch drown out the noise until there is nothing left but silence.
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A/n : It was my first time writing smut, I'm quite happy with how it turned out (Don't ask me how much time I spent writing and rewriting it, I know the whole scene by heart now). I hope it doesn't feel too rushed.
Also because it has been a subject recently, having short/long nails doesn't correlate to being a lesbian and/or in a relationship. r just doesn't like the idea of them inside her ✌️
Beyond the Badge | Alexia Putellas x reader - Part 3
Part 3
Summary : You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Real Madrid! Reader
Word count : 7.2k
A/n : Firstly, note that this was written before the game against England happened irl. Secondly, I thought about it a lot, and Ale will stay at Barça in this fic. Both because I'm still coping and because a lot of the fic is already written and it would require me to change a lot of the plot.
Masterlist
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Revenge is a dish best served cold, and the weather is bad in London.
Games against England always go beyond the game itself. The last scar dates from less than 12 months ago. Basel is still on everyone’s minds. You were supposed to take the fifth penalty, but never got the chance to shoot it.
After Alexia was subbed out, you were the one with the armband, the one that made the motivation speech before the shoot-out. You almost asked Pau Quesada to remove you from the captain position in Madrid when he took over the team, but chickened out. The wound stayed wide open for months.
England at home is never easy, you and part of the team know it better than the others. 2022, Brighton, first competition you captained for Spain.
Fuck, you really hate England.
Even the youngsters are quieter during breakfast, you miss their noise a little bit. These idiots are starting to get to you, it seems.
You start the day with a press conference, because they’re dying to hear your refreshing and illuminating opinion about the game. Alexia’s closed expression tells you she’s thinking the same thing.
The conference room is packed with media. You know the two Euros wins earned the Lionesses a lot of coverage. Coverage can be a double-edged sword, your team knows it better than any other national team in the world.
Still, it’s always great to see so many media covering a simple qualification game.
Questions are the boring kind, “how do you feel your strengths and weaknesses match against England”, “what does it feel like to play in a stadium like Wembley”. You get so many of them about last Euro that at one point the mediator intervenes to redirect the conference toward today’s game.
One journalist from Mundo Deportivo asks you about playing alongside so many Barça players just a few days after the three Clásicos defeats. You briefly consider telling him to get lost, but the media training kicks in, biting your tongue to swallow the answer you want to give. What comes out is boring, easy. It’s about unity, how the national team will always be more important than club level football.
Once you’re out of the conference and walking toward the locker room, Alexia clears her throat, putting on a falsely serious face. “Excuse me,” she starts in her heavily accented English, shoving her fist near your mouth like a microphone. “Miss, what would you say is the most important to you : a win against England or a win against the great Barcelona ?”
You push her a few feet away from you but can’t help the laugh that comes out of your mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”
She smiles at your reaction and puts her left arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to her. “I know which one is the most likely,” she teases in your ear.
You push her face away from you. “Fuck off Putellas.” Her laughter intensifies. You don’t know why she’s smiling as if she just won a game. She drops her arm once you’ve arrived at the locker room entrance.
When you step on the pitch to train, you can see the eyes of some of the young players shine. Some of them barely allowed themselves to dream about playing in such a big stadium. It wasn’t even a possibility for your generation when you grew up.
Big stadiums don’t faze you anymore. You absolutely love playing in them, even if they’re behind the opposite team.
“Welcome to my home,” Mariona says next to you.
“Not too bad,” you say looking around the stadium. You push her back. “Come on, time to train.”
“Always so serious,” she complains. You shrug in response.
Training goes well. The team works great together, instructions are being followed, everyone feels ready for the game tonight.
The pressure grows during the afternoon. Some work with physios for those who need it, then a last tactical meeting where the starting XI is announced.
It’s pretty clear it’s what the staff considers the best XI for this game : Coll, Carmona, Y/L/N, Paredes, Battle, Putellas, Caldentey, Patri, Vicky, Esther, Pina.
It always surprises people when you tell them, but you don’t have a matchday routine. You’ve always liked to be flexible. You and Olga are discussing the game tactics in the bus, it reminds you of old times.
The atmosphere in Wembley is already buzzing when your team arrives. Everybody puts their stuff in the locker room before going to do some recognition on the pitch. The grass feels, unsurprisingly, the exact same as it did this morning during training. But you know it makes good social media content for them to post how the team has arrived and the greetings with the English players.
You look around the team. Everybody is talking in groups, likely some comments about how alive this stadium will feel when it’s full. You’re sure Mariona is boasting about it again.
You join Alexia and Vicky. “How come you always wear sunglasses ?” You point at said object that’s sitting on Alexia’s nose. “Right now it’s cold and cloudy, you don’t need them.”
Vicky beats Alexia to answering. “It’s for her Instagram dump, she needs to be stylish.”
You can feel Alexia eyeroll even if you can’t see it. “Don’t listen to Stitch,” she waves her hand in dismissal, “They make me feel more mysterious. I don’t like it when people look in my eyes.”
Why ? They’re so pretty. You want to say. You kick yourself mentally the next instant. You settle for something safe instead. “Mysterious, really captain ?”
“That’s my middle name,” she jokes. Vicky seems to start getting bored because she tries to take the sunglasses from Alexia, who pushes her away. “Do I need to remind you that you’re on very thin ice.” She scolds her.
Vicky has the decency to look remorseful. In your opinion, Alexia gives them too long of a leash. She’s strict about football, not as much about off-the-pitch behavior. You will let her handle her problem how she wants. “I’ve apologized like a hundred times since yesterday.” Then there’s a certain glint in her eyes, the one she has when she’s about to make you regret things, you’ve discovered. “You know Capi, there’s nothing to be ashamed of –”
“Dios mío Vicky. If you finish this sentence, I’m making our club transfer you to Russia.” Pink starts coloring Alexia’s cheeks. “Keep all your energy to annoy me and redirect it toward England.”
“Don’t worry, I will be running everywhere during the game.” Then Vicky directs her attention to you. “I mean, I want us to win considering our pact.”
Alexia furrows her brows, they disappear under her sunglasses. “What pact ?”
“It’s a secret,” you answer, wanting to rile her up a little.
Alexia puts her sunglasses on top of her head. Her eyes search yours, then they travel between you and Vicky as if it will give her an answer. You can see the worry in her expression. To be fair, anything with “Vicky” and “secret” in the same sentence would worry you too. “I don’t like that,” she states.
Vicky rubs Alexia’s shoulder patronizingly. “Don’t worry about it Ale, focus on the game.” Then she leaves the two of you to go badger Mapi.
Alexia looks at you. “Tell me what this whole thing is about.” She uses her stern voice or, as everyone on the team calls it, the captain’s voice. It has no effect on you.
You shrug. “You will know soon enough. Vicky won’t be able to keep her mouth shut anyway. Well, it’s only if we win. If we don’t I will tell you what that pact, like Vicky calls it, was about.”
Alexia pouts, genuinely pouts. “Come on tell me.” She’s adorable, you might break, yet somehow you manage to hold your ground. “Does anyone else know ?”
“Jana does.” Alexia opens her mouth in indignation, her brows are even more furrowed than before.
“How the hell are these two keeping it silent ?” To be fair, you wonder that too, but you just shrug.
“Come on Ale we have a game to win. Let’s go to the locker room.” She groans but follows you there anyway.
You’re in the tunnel before entering the pitch. The little girl with you seems way more excited from seeing the players standing to your right. She can’t help but look toward Lauren James and Alessia Russo at the end of the tunnel. Not a future defender then.
The signal comes for the teams to enter the pitch. Considering Williamson isn’t starting, it’s Keira Walsh who’s leading the way for England, while Alexia is obviously doing that for Spain.
The noise is deafening when the teams step on the grass. As you line up for the hymns, you look around the full stadium. The kind of crowd that makes the sacrifices to be a professional footballer worth it.
After the hymns, you shake hands with the Lionesses, exchanging some polite “have a good game.” You’ve never played with any of them, so you’re not close to them. You only know Georgia Stanway in passing from her being there when you hung out with your past Bayern teammates. Meanwhile Walsh and Bronze are hugging half the Spanish team.
As the teams get in position, Irene pats your shoulder. “Ready ?” she asks. “Always,” you answer. It’s a tradition between the two of you.
You’ve always enjoyed the pressure of these kinds of games. You know some players have trouble with it. You can’t be a great player if you don’t thrive under pressure. You let out a deep breath when Alexia and Walsh position themselves on the pitch after the coin toss.
Let the game begin.
From the start, it doesn’t feel like a simple qualification game. Challenges are rough, nerves are high.
5 minutes in, there’s a fastbreak for England and Russo gets the ball in an interesting position. You check her with your shoulder to stop the play. She falls to the ground, a bit theatrical in your opinion. The referee whistles for the foul and the English players are calling for a yellow card. Thankfully your challenge is light enough that the ref doesn’t give you one. The free kick leads to nothing, Irene taps in your hand. “Good foul.”
The first half is hell. England manages to stop the team from playing their game, passes are sloppy, runs lead to nothing. It feels like the Spanish block is sitting lower and lower each passing minute. Alexia is playing so low she’s almost at your level.
You weren’t expecting to have so much work, but you handle it well. Russo is getting more and more frustrated with you. The referee already had to tell her to calm down twice.
You’re trying to reposition everyone while holding it together yourself. The whole team is getting frustrated with each other. You point out to Mariona that you can’t even clear the ball because you have no one to pass to, and she bites back that you should just improve your passing.
The fans are chanting, they know they have the upper hand right now. But the defense holds it together, and the Lionesses never get a great chance. It must be a boring game for the fans.
Your jersey is clinging to your skin when halftime comes, you’re feeling the exhaustion of 90 minutes already. Alexia comes to you while you’re walking toward the locker room. Her jaw is set, she’s frustrated. “Irene and you are saving us. Right now we can’t make a fucking pass.” You don’t say anything, you don’t see the need to. “Who’s making the halftime speech between us ?”
“Do it.” You don’t hesitate, you don’t like making them. “I’ll add things if I feel like it’s necessary.”
The team is welcomed into the locker room by a very angry Sonia. Some adjustments are made, the midfield is sitting too low, which is cutting the attackers from the rest of the team. She orders them to be higher. It’s a dangerous play, it means more work for you in the defense, but it’s the only way you will score a goal. Your team doesn’t know how to park the bus and play counter attacks.
Sonia clearly wants some young legs that can run on offense. She changes Esther for Paralluelo, Pina switching to striker. Sonia says a few more words about honor and self-respect before leaving the locker room, closing the door loudly on her way out. The sound echoes in the heavy silence.
Some heads are down. You prepared the game well, trained successfully, only to deliver a terrible first half. You haven’t lost any hope, you know how two halves can be totally different games.
Alexia gets up, everyone looks up at the action. Her motivation speech works well, you can see that a lot of backs are standing up straighter now. You think back to your motivation speech before the penalty shootout, that led to so many misses. It’s what will fuel you, you decide.
In the time you have before coming back on the pitch, you tell Ona to be more careful of Stanway’s movements. She’s too focused on Hemp and it’s causing leaks. She nods, taking it in, and thanks you.
Then you go sit next to Vicky to tell her to use the gaps between Hinds and Wubben-Moy more, instead of only trying to beat Hinds on her left. You know she hasn’t had a lot of touches, but she needs to focus on what she will do when she gets them.
The second half starts with Spain showing some more promises. The attackers are still struggling to get interesting touches. When there is a stop of play, you go toward Alexia, who’s too close to you. “You need to play higher. We can’t build up plays if you’re next to me and Irene.”
She looks unconvinced. “We’re getting split open if I do that.” It’s only the 60th minute, and she looks exhausted. She’s been trying to be everywhere today.
“Trust your backline. Patri is already there to support us. We’re not here to get a draw.” You push her in the back to signal her to go higher, the ball is about to be in play again.
She doesn’t answer, but she plays a bit higher, enough that the wingers finally have some balls they can exploit. It does also mean that England has more space to attack.
Walsh sends a ball that cuts through Irene toward Russo. There’s a flash of Basel, your bad positioning that let her score the equalizing header. You know you’re too late to get it, but go for it anyway. Your cleats meet the side of her ankle. She screams in pain.
You get an immediate yellow card you don’t complain about. It was needed to avoid the one-on-one against Cata. It’s worth it. You still apologize and help Russo get up. You will not become best friends because of this game, that’s for sure.
As the game goes on, you start to run on fumes more than anything else. Olga has to grab you to tell you to stop being everywhere before you collapse on the pitch. You make worse decisions, Patri is frustrated when you open the backline to make a bad tackle on Walsh while she already had that zone covered, you’re lucky it doesn’t lead to anything.
Spain almost gets crucified in the 88th minute. A corner that comes from a missed clearance from you. The ball gets cleared by Irene, but it falls at Stanway’s feet just out of the box. She shoots it immediately, it’s a clean one. Cata isn’t able to stop it because she already tried to make the stop during the corner and is on the other side of the goal. It’s a miracle you have the reflexes to make an acrobatic move with your foot, catching it on the line. It goes out of play shortly after.
The whole team exhales.
90+3’, England are attacking too much because they don’t want a draw from a game where they dominated. You catch an overambitious pass from Bronze. You immediately pass it to Alexia, who’s standing high on the pitch. Vicky makes a run between Hinds and Wubben-Moy. Alexia weighs her pass perfectly and it lands with the right timing for her run. Vicky puts it past Hampton with ease.
Goal for Spain. 0-1.
The silence in Wembley is deafening. You’re so exhausted you don’t even run toward Vicky, while most of the team does. The English players all look like they wanna jump off a bridge.
The final whistle is given as soon as England kicks off. Boos come from the stands, likely to signal to your team that you didn’t deserve the win. Well, not your fault England couldn’t convert. Actually it was a bit your fault, but you’re proud of it.
Adrenaline crashes and you lie on the grass, breathing heavily. Vicky comes running at full speed towards you, you don’t know how she still has legs. She crouches next to you. “Great goal, kid.” You say as you stand up, hugging her side.
You break the embrace and she goes straight to Alexia. To either thank her for the assists or to annoy, you’re not sure which one, likely both.
You go shake the hands of the Lionesses. You don’t talk with them besides the polite “good game”. You do apologize to Russo about the foul and she’s nice about it, saying she isn’t injured and that you played a great game.
Georgia Stanway asks you to exchange jerseys which you agree to easily, even if you don’t really care about it. Usually you give out the jerseys to your friends or family after because you don’t do anything with them. You both put on each other’s jerseys after.
Then you’re pulled over to collect the “player of the game” trophy. You’re surprised it doesn’t go to Vicky. The English TV journalists ask you about the strategy before the game. You say that being this defensive was the plan (it absolutely wasn’t). They joke about you exchanging jerseys with Stanway after stopping her shot late in the game. You give a polite laugh and they release you.
As you’re walking in the tunnel, you feel arms wrapping around your shoulders from behind. You recognize the 11 on the outside of her wrist. “You were amazing today,” she says.
You stop moving, and her chest presses against your back, she wraps her arms tighter. “The whole backline was.” You know she’s rolling her eyes at your deflection. “Can’t say the same for the midfield,” you tease her.
“Asshole.” She whispers in your ear. There’s a certain edge to it, it was maybe a bit too much on your part. You turn around in her arms. You hug her properly with your arms around her waist while hers stay around your shoulders. She only has her sports bra, she must have exchanged her jersey with an England player too, but contrary to you, hers is just put carelessly on one of her shoulders.
You wonder how things changed so quickly between you two. You wouldn’t have considered the idea of hugging a sweaty Alexia and enjoying it three days ago.
She smells like she had just played for 90 minutes, but you don’t really care. Her face is tucked into the side of your neck, you can feel her breath against your skin. “I played like shit,” she complains. You almost argue automatically, then stop yourself.
“Take that as a way to improve without consequences. We know way more about the weaknesses of our team, but it still counts as a win.” She hums, unconvinced by your answer. Your hand that doesn’t have the POTG trophy caresses her back in reassurance. You can feel the muscles and the sweat there.
You can think about another context where you would love to feel Alexia’s muscles and sweat—
You’re absolutely fucked.
You break the embrace. “Come on, let’s go to the media zone. I’m sure we will have some great and insightful questions there.” She groans but she does follow you.
After the media and Sonia’s speech in the locker room, one that wasn’t really complimentary, the team is left alone in the locker room. You’re happy to finally be able to shower. Vicky comes to sit beside you. “So, about our pact…” She’s smiling from ear to ear. To be fair, she earned it.
“Later tonight. I won’t answer in front of the entire locker room.” That would be one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Likely Top 3, and not third.
“Fair.” Vicky shrugs. “Can Jana be there also ?” You throw your head back, it’s gonna be such a terrible moment for you.
The shower is nice and relaxing before the fateful moment. On the bus, you sit next to Esther who tells you a bit more about life in the US, while you catch her up with the last Real news.
There’s a small breakdown happening in the back of your mind, anticipating what Vicky and Jana are hoping to be a revelation.
Before you know it, you’re sitting on your bed with Jana and Vicky looking straight at you from Vicky’s bed. It feels like the Last Judgment.
“A bet is a bet,” says Vicky. She’s gleeful, you wonder if she’s happier right now than when she scored the winning goal. “So, who is it ?”
You take a moment to think. The truth is obvious to you. It has hazel and green eyes, high cheekbones, a sharp jaw, a shy smile and a lot of back tattoos. Saying to Vicky (and to the whole team by extension) would be mortifying. You spent so much time preparing for the game, then you were absolutely exhausted, and now you have to give an answer you can’t give.
You must find a name, quickly so it doesn’t sound too calculated. Why are you suddenly forgetting everyone on the team ? You finally manage to grasp a name, the one you’re the closest to on the team. “Misa.” You blurt out, fighting against a wince. There’s silence, you feel the need to fill it. “And like, it’s awkward cause she’s my teammate and we’re close, even friends and– You start rambling. You’re already deep in the lie, so you’d better make it believable.
“Oh my god, I knew it !” Vicky exclaims. What ?
“No, no, not like that,” you try to interrupt. You’re realizing just now that it might have some unforeseen consequences.
“The way you two always hover close to each other, hang out while you’re already on the same team all year round. You’d be cute together,” Jana adds.
Vicky and Jana look like it’s Christmas and there are even more gifts than expected. You’re mortified by the situation. It will certainly reach Misa’s ears, twisted and amplified by the two demons in front of you, and you don’t know how to handle that.
“Just to be clear, I didn’t say I had a crush on Misa, just that I think she’s the prettiest on the team.” You don’t want it to get too far. It might already be too late for that.
“No, but it’s obvious from the look on your face.” Jana is too happy. Fuck, you’ve played it too much. “And I do think it’s reciprocated.”
“No it’s not. There’s no way,” you say. You’re praying you’re right. “I don’t have a crush on Misa,” you repeat. The kids are unconvinced. You’re an idiot. You get up from your bed. “I’m gonna grab some air outside.”
“Oh, are you going to Misa’s room ?” Vicky winks at you, you wanna die from embarrassment. You can’t even imagine what it would have been like if you told the truth. Likely a lot of shock and then the worst teasing you’ve ever received in your life.
They let you get out in peace, at least. Likely because they want to be able to joke about it with each other. When you’re out of the room, you realize you don’t really know where to go. The room you’re the friendliest with is the one with Misa and Mariona, but you definitely don’t wanna go there right now. You feel bad dragging Misa into this.
You take a few deep breaths, wandering in the corridors of the hotel aimlessly. You think about rooms you could go to, ones that contain teammates or ex-teammates, but they’re always rooming with someone you don’t want to see.
There’s only one viable solution.
You : Your kids are bullying me rn. Plz help
You’re surprised that she answers very quickly.
Alexia : Are you sure I can help with that ?
You : Can I come hang out in your room for a bit ?
Alexia : Yeah of course, room 317
You knock and she opens the door seconds later, in cotton shorts and a Spain hoodie. She opens the door wide and you enter the room. It’s smaller than the shared room, but it still has a big double bed in the middle of it, and she doesn’t have to deal with annoying younger roommates like you do. It’s not a big mess like your room with Vicky, but there’s still some stuff here and there.
“From having been in your room, I figured you wouldn’t judge me for the mess here,” Alexia teases. She knows it’s barely a mess, she just wants a free shot at you. “Come on, sit on the bed.” You do as she says, and she lies next to you. “I could ask you what’s wrong but it’s already in the Barça group chat.”
“There’s no way,” you groan. These kids are way too quick with their phones. “Why is it even in the Barça group chat anyway ?”
Alexia shrugs, unbothered. “You must admit that Madrid captain and vice-captain potentially getting together is great gossip.” Well, said like that it’s indeed great gossip, fuck. “I have huge doubts about it being true gossip.” You raise your head at that. Alexia isn’t looking at you but at the London roofs you can see through the window.
“Why do you say that ?” you ask. She’s right, obviously. You still want to know why she’s so sure she is.
Alexia turns her head to look at you. “From the way you are around each other. You’re too comfortable around her.”
Funny when Vicky and Jana had the opposite conclusion. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“So you do think Misa is the hottest on the team ?” You forgot Alexia is a gossip too. She looks delighted to have you in her room right now to interrogate you.
You weigh it between lying and telling the truth. Alexia is too close to Misa, and you don’t think she’s gonna rat you out to Vicky. “No I don’t, it just seemed like a safe answer.” You can see the way Alexia is about to ask another question. “No, you won’t know the true answer.”
She clicks her tongue in annoyance, but doesn’t complain. “You’re lucky it’s already late, and I’m exhausted after the game. We will talk about that again.” She promises, you hope she won’t keep it. “Do you wanna sleep here ? Vicky won’t let you sleep.”
You hesitate a bit, your brain is fried from tiredness. Alexia asks it so casually that you don’t overthink it. There’s only one bed, but it’s a big one. You’ve slept in beds way smaller with friends of yours. Frankly, you also really don’t want to go back to your room, and you’re starting to feel the game in your body too. “Yes, thanks a lot. That would be nice.”
“I’m just a good captain,” Alexia says casually. “You would have done the same for any player.” It’s the truth, it doesn’t mean it’s not a nice gesture from her still. She lends you some clothes to sleep in and before you know it, you’re both under the covers. Everything smells like Alexia, it makes you feel warm inside. There isn’t an awkward silence, just a polite goodnight. You’re both tired enough that sleep finds you easily.
You’re woken up by Alexia’s alarm, Her groan and the movement as she silences it tell you she’s awake too. You open your eyes with difficulty, a bit of light is coming into the room at the bottom of the curtains. You look at Alexia’s form to be sure you didn’t blanket hog, but it doesn’t seem like you did. “Hola,” you say, your voice is hoarse. You drink some water on the bedside table.
You only get a hum in response. You look at your phone on the bedside table, it’s 8:30. The staff let the team sleep-in, you just have a recovery session at 11 before travelling back to Madrid in the afternoon.
You get up from the bed and stretch, your hands above your head, you can feel your back crack, and it feels good. Your shirt rides up at the movement, Alexia’s gaze drifts up briefly before she rolls onto her back again. “It’s too easy for you to get up,” she complains. Her voice is lower than usual. She’s still in bed, tucked under the sheets, hair messy and eyes half-open. It feels almost domestic, she still looks great, it’s unfair.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for the lazy morning type,” you tease while looking around the room to find your clothes from last night.
“I’m not,” she rebuffs. “I’m just not running everywhere 2 minutes after waking up. 10 minutes in bed feels great.” You shrug, you prefer just sleeping 10 more minutes in that case. You finally find your clothes and go get changed in the bathroom.
When you get out, Alexia is still in the bed, this time on her phone, laughing. Your perplexed look seems to amuse her even more. “I won’t tell you, I will let you go back to your room with Vicky and the mess will happen.” You’re kinda terrified by these words, you’re kinda over the mess too, Alexia seems to realize it. “Hey, if Vicky bothers you too much tell me. I know she can be a lot, so I will tell her to tone it down.”
“Don’t worry about it.” If a talk needs to be had, you’re grown enough to have it yourself. And you’re the one that entertained the kid a bit too much. “Thanks for letting me stay here for the night, it was nice from you.”
Alexia dismisses it, saying it’s nothing. Closing the door behind you feels oddly disappointing.
As soon as you enter your room, Vicky speak up. “Where were you last night ?” It seems like she’s wide awake.
“I don’t see how that’s your business.” It’s not like going to Alexia’s room is a huge secret, even if it feels a bit like one to you. You want to mess with Vicky too.
“I’ve asked Mariona, but apparently Misa slept the whole night in their room. If you had a booty call in London, you wouldn’t have waited for the game, it’s not our first night in London.” Vicky is talking with her hands worse than an Italian, you can almost see the gears turning in her head. Then it looks like she has a eureka moment, you highly doubt it’s the case. “Oh my god is that a Lioness ? Wait, you exchanged jersey with one of them last night. I think it was Stanway ! And you two played for Bayern. It makes so much sense ! I’m gonna ask Keira and Lucy.”
During all her rambling, you’re too stunned to interrupt her. You have no idea how the kid made all these wrong connections in her head. You and Stanway didn’t even play together for Bayern for fuck’s sake. Saying just now you slept in Alexia’s room would seem like you were hiding something by not telling sooner.
You come back to your senses. “No don’t ask them !” You try to take the phone from her hands but she’s too fast. For a defender, your reflexes are lacking.
Vicky looks at her screen. “Oh Lucy already answered !” Then her brows furrow. “Apparently Stanway is in a relationship, you’re not a homewrecker, right ? Lucy is also confused about where Misa stands in all of that.” Will anyone hold a grudge if you throw Vicky off the plane later ? Alexia might, and you don’t want that.
“Oh my god, once again I don’t have a crush on Misa,” you exclaim. You don’t even comment on her telling Lucy that, you think the whole football world knows by now. What a shit show.
“Well yes, I realize that now !” Vicky says, as if she’s frustrated with you. The nerves of this kid. She’s still typing on her phone, likely talking with Lucy, then a smile breaks on her face. Oh no.
“Apparently Lauren James left the hotel late and came back early in the morning, anything to admit ?” She looks smug, the little shit. You’ve never spoken a single word except “good game” to her. “Oh my god you’re turning red. We figured it out !” You’re just red with embarrassment, about the whole thing. Society can be thankful Vicky never joined the police.
“You know what ? I’m just in a bad dream. I’m gonna take a shower and everything is gonna be back to normal after that.” Vicky looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind. You might have, but because of her.
“Or maybe you just need hot water to wake you up after a looong night.” You don’t grace her with an answer. You slept well, actually. Alexia doesn’t snore loudly and doesn’t move too much, which is enough for you to have a great night.
Breakfast is a mess, news travels too fast on this team. Everyone is already in a good mood because of the win against England, but your misfortune is the cherry on the cake. You want to dig a hole and hide in it. Everyone seems to think you’re fucking Lauren James, and that you have something for Misa. They don’t seem to care that these two facts contradict themselves.
Alexia seems torn between making fun of you and sympathizing considering she knows it’s all bullshit. You’re seriously considering saying you actually slept in Alexia’s bed just to bring her in this mess with you. You won’t, because you’re nice to her.
Breakfast is followed by a very awkward chat with Misa where you have to explain the situation to her. She does seem a little hurt when you say she was just the safe-ish answer, but right now you have bigger fish to fry. You’re grateful it was Misa at the end of the day, she won’t escalate it.
By the time you escape Misa and the breakfast room, your phone is vibrating nonstop. You ignore most of them, but do look at what Aitana sent you.
Aitana : I was gonna make fun of the Misa answer
Aitana : But now I’m really confused about this Lauren James thing
Aitana : Like when did it happen ??
Aitana : I need so many explanations for things that happened in the last 24h
Aitana : Congrats on the win against England btw, you were fantastic
Aitana rarely sends so many texts at once, but you can admit it’s a special situation.
You : Can I call you right now ?
Aitana : Yeah, just finished training.
It’s 9h45, recovery is at 11, so you have some time. You negotiate with Vicky for her to leave the room. She seems to accept you’ve been going through a lot this morning and heads off to hang out in another room. You call Aitana on FaceTime, she answers almost immediately.
“You’re back to training with the team ?” You ask her happily, forgetting about your own mess for a few instants.
Her face instantly brightens. “Yes ! It feels so good to be back, you have no idea. But it’s not today’s subject.” You roll your eyes, she looks at you through the screen. “Why do you have Vicky’s Stitch plushie in your arms ?”
The true answer is that it reminds you of Alexia, and you’re stressed right now. “It’s fluffy.” You shrug.
She doesn’t seem to think much of it. “So now, explanations. I feel like I just started the fourth season of a TV show after missing the whole third one.” You’ve weighed it before calling, what you were gonna tell Aitana. You’re just so confused right now, about everything, and Aitana is your closest friend that’s a footballer. Talking about it to one of your friends outside of football would require so much additional context you don’t feel like giving right now.
You trust Aitana. She already knows lots of things about your personal life, as you do about hers. It involves her teammate, but you know she’s not that close to Alexia anyway. So you tell her everything about this week. About the contract, the getting closer to Alexia, and the whole mess that Vicky created. She listens, she jokes, she comments, tells you that you’re an idiot a few times.
“I have no fucking idea what I’m doing right now.” You conclude. Aitana takes some time to weigh all the mess she’s been told.
“You know what, yeah, I can see Alexia being your type.” You want to strangle her, is that what she’s focusing on ?
“That’s the only advice you have to give ? Lauren James literally sent me a DM this morning on Insta to ask me why the whole England team thinks we’re fucking.”
Aitana bursts out laughing, you have already given her a full workout with your story. “Oh you didn’t even tell me that. What did you answer ?”
“I told her it was Lucy Bronze’s fault, and she told me fair enough.” Aitana nods, she’s used to Bronze’s antics too. “How did my life get so messy while I’m not dating footballers ?” You complain.
“The Barcelona girls have a special talent for creating lesbian drama,” Aitana answers seriously. “What do you plan to do regarding Alexia ?”
You furrow your brows. “Absolutely nothing.” You answer as if it was obvious. “I will hangout around her like normal and then we won’t talk outside of camp and I will get back to my senses.”
Aitana seems unconvinced, maybe she knows you too much. You usually have a hard time getting crushes, but when you do, you’re not known to have the best self-control. “Don’t create too much of a mess. Alexia isn’t a bad or a messy person, but it can still end badly considering your positions.” You nod. You know that very well, that’s why nothing is happening. “And if anything does, you see how gossip travels. Be careful that no one finds out.” These are obvious, you sigh.
“Do you want to talk about the contract thing ?” You say no immediately, she nods in understanding. “Update me if it gets messier, I will be here for moral support.”
You roll your eyes. “You just want the gossip.” If you were in her place, you would too. Who knew the Spanish camp would get so interesting ? You’ll have a word with the staff member that makes the room assignments.
“I don’t plan to take another bad decision.” You sure hope you’ll keep your word.
“I’ve heard that so many times from you. It usually ends pretty badly.” You know she’s right. You don’t like that she’s right. That’s why you like to keep football separate, your flings rarely end well.
There’s a knock at the door, you look at the time, it’s almost time for recovery so it must be Vicky. You say your goodbyes to Aitana and let Vicky in. She’s disappointed when you tell her who you were on the phone with.
Your whole day consists of way too much teasing. Even the ones that know you enough to know you wouldn’t have done that, like Olga and Esther, poke fun at you. Alexia is softer with it, so you end up hovering around her most of the day. She doesn’t complain about it.
Coming back to your city feels good, the sun is back and your mood is immediately better. Alexia lets you take her sunglasses, even if she complains about the sun in her eyes. She only puts them back on for the social media video before giving them to you again.
When dinner comes, everyone has eased up on the teasing. They know the fine line between annoying and unbearable. You’re eating the last bites of your fruit salad when your agent calls. You quickly excuse yourself and get up to take the call in a more private space.
The call doesn’t go well. You know the clock is ticking, that you should come closer to a decision. It doesn’t mean you take it well when you’re told that. He tries to get at least some idea of what you want to do but you fucking don’t know. You want to scream, not at him but at the universe. Making decisions is already hard but it feels like the biggest decision of your life.
The call ends up with him frustrated at you. You’re not even mad at him, you’re mad at yourself because you know you’re being unreasonable, but you still can’t fight it.
Every conversation about the contract leaves you feeling trapped in your own life. You try to take a deep breath, it doesn’t work. Your whole body is shaking. You don’t want to come back to your room. Vicky will be there and she’s gonna tease you and you have no problem with it most of the time. Right now, you know you might snap at her and say things you will deeply regret. You like the kid too much for that.
You open Aitana’s contact, but she’s not here physically and that’s what you need right now. You shove your phone in your pocket, then immediately take it back out again. Your hands won’t stay still. The hallway suddenly feels too narrow, you lean against the wall because your legs feel weak. Your thumbs type before your mind can think about it.
You : Can I come hang out in your room ?
You : Please
Alexia : Still at dinner. Give me 10 minutes?
Alexia : Room 119 btw
Alexia : You okay ?
You don’t answer. You’re not even sure how to. You walk in circles waiting for Alexia to send you another text. It comes seven minutes later.
Alexia : I’m in my room, come
You’re not sure you’re in the right state of mind to avoid bad decisions.
Beyond the Badge | Alexia Putellas x reader - Part 3
Part 3
Summary : You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Real Madrid! Reader
Word count : 7.2k
A/n : Firstly, note that this was written before the game against England happened irl. Secondly, I thought about it a lot, and Ale will stay at Barça in this fic. Both because I'm still coping and because a lot of the fic is already written and it would require me to change a lot of the plot.
Masterlist
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Revenge is a dish best served cold, and the weather is bad in London.
Games against England always go beyond the game itself. The last scar dates from less than 12 months ago. Basel is still on everyone’s minds. You were supposed to take the fifth penalty, but never got the chance to shoot it.
After Alexia was subbed out, you were the one with the armband, the one that made the motivation speech before the shoot-out. You almost asked Pau Quesada to remove you from the captain position in Madrid when he took over the team, but chickened out. The wound stayed wide open for months.
England at home is never easy, you and part of the team know it better than the others. 2022, Brighton, first competition you captained for Spain.
Fuck, you really hate England.
Even the youngsters are quieter during breakfast, you miss their noise a little bit. These idiots are starting to get to you, it seems.
You start the day with a press conference, because they’re dying to hear your refreshing and illuminating opinion about the game. Alexia’s closed expression tells you she’s thinking the same thing.
The conference room is packed with media. You know the two Euros wins earned the Lionesses a lot of coverage. Coverage can be a double-edged sword, your team knows it better than any other national team in the world.
Still, it’s always great to see so many media covering a simple qualification game.
Questions are the boring kind, “how do you feel your strengths and weaknesses match against England”, “what does it feel like to play in a stadium like Wembley”. You get so many of them about last Euro that at one point the mediator intervenes to redirect the conference toward today’s game.
One journalist from Mundo Deportivo asks you about playing alongside so many Barça players just a few days after the three Clásicos defeats. You briefly consider telling him to get lost, but the media training kicks in, biting your tongue to swallow the answer you want to give. What comes out is boring, easy. It’s about unity, how the national team will always be more important than club level football.
Once you’re out of the conference and walking toward the locker room, Alexia clears her throat, putting on a falsely serious face. “Excuse me,” she starts in her heavily accented English, shoving her fist near your mouth like a microphone. “Miss, what would you say is the most important to you : a win against England or a win against the great Barcelona ?”
You push her a few feet away from you but can’t help the laugh that comes out of your mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”
She smiles at your reaction and puts her left arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to her. “I know which one is the most likely,” she teases in your ear.
You push her face away from you. “Fuck off Putellas.” Her laughter intensifies. You don’t know why she’s smiling as if she just won a game. She drops her arm once you’ve arrived at the locker room entrance.
When you step on the pitch to train, you can see the eyes of some of the young players shine. Some of them barely allowed themselves to dream about playing in such a big stadium. It wasn’t even a possibility for your generation when you grew up.
Big stadiums don’t faze you anymore. You absolutely love playing in them, even if they’re behind the opposite team.
“Welcome to my home,” Mariona says next to you.
“Not too bad,” you say looking around the stadium. You push her back. “Come on, time to train.”
“Always so serious,” she complains. You shrug in response.
Training goes well. The team works great together, instructions are being followed, everyone feels ready for the game tonight.
The pressure grows during the afternoon. Some work with physios for those who need it, then a last tactical meeting where the starting XI is announced.
It’s pretty clear it’s what the staff considers the best XI for this game : Coll, Carmona, Y/L/N, Paredes, Battle, Putellas, Caldentey, Patri, Vicky, Esther, Pina.
It always surprises people when you tell them, but you don’t have a matchday routine. You’ve always liked to be flexible. You and Olga are discussing the game tactics in the bus, it reminds you of old times.
The atmosphere in Wembley is already buzzing when your team arrives. Everybody puts their stuff in the locker room before going to do some recognition on the pitch. The grass feels, unsurprisingly, the exact same as it did this morning during training. But you know it makes good social media content for them to post how the team has arrived and the greetings with the English players.
You look around the team. Everybody is talking in groups, likely some comments about how alive this stadium will feel when it’s full. You’re sure Mariona is boasting about it again.
You join Alexia and Vicky. “How come you always wear sunglasses ?” You point at said object that’s sitting on Alexia’s nose. “Right now it’s cold and cloudy, you don’t need them.”
Vicky beats Alexia to answering. “It’s for her Instagram dump, she needs to be stylish.”
You can feel Alexia eyeroll even if you can’t see it. “Don’t listen to Stitch,” she waves her hand in dismissal, “They make me feel more mysterious. I don’t like it when people look in my eyes.”
Why ? They’re so pretty. You want to say. You kick yourself mentally the next instant. You settle for something safe instead. “Mysterious, really captain ?”
“That’s my middle name,” she jokes. Vicky seems to start getting bored because she tries to take the sunglasses from Alexia, who pushes her away. “Do I need to remind you that you’re on very thin ice.” She scolds her.
Vicky has the decency to look remorseful. In your opinion, Alexia gives them too long of a leash. She’s strict about football, not as much about off-the-pitch behavior. You will let her handle her problem how she wants. “I’ve apologized like a hundred times since yesterday.” Then there’s a certain glint in her eyes, the one she has when she’s about to make you regret things, you’ve discovered. “You know Capi, there’s nothing to be ashamed of –”
“Dios mío Vicky. If you finish this sentence, I’m making our club transfer you to Russia.” Pink starts coloring Alexia’s cheeks. “Keep all your energy to annoy me and redirect it toward England.”
“Don’t worry, I will be running everywhere during the game.” Then Vicky directs her attention to you. “I mean, I want us to win considering our pact.”
Alexia furrows her brows, they disappear under her sunglasses. “What pact ?”
“It’s a secret,” you answer, wanting to rile her up a little.
Alexia puts her sunglasses on top of her head. Her eyes search yours, then they travel between you and Vicky as if it will give her an answer. You can see the worry in her expression. To be fair, anything with “Vicky” and “secret” in the same sentence would worry you too. “I don’t like that,” she states.
Vicky rubs Alexia’s shoulder patronizingly. “Don’t worry about it Ale, focus on the game.” Then she leaves the two of you to go badger Mapi.
Alexia looks at you. “Tell me what this whole thing is about.” She uses her stern voice or, as everyone on the team calls it, the captain’s voice. It has no effect on you.
You shrug. “You will know soon enough. Vicky won’t be able to keep her mouth shut anyway. Well, it’s only if we win. If we don’t I will tell you what that pact, like Vicky calls it, was about.”
Alexia pouts, genuinely pouts. “Come on tell me.” She’s adorable, you might break, yet somehow you manage to hold your ground. “Does anyone else know ?”
“Jana does.” Alexia opens her mouth in indignation, her brows are even more furrowed than before.
“How the hell are these two keeping it silent ?” To be fair, you wonder that too, but you just shrug.
“Come on Ale we have a game to win. Let’s go to the locker room.” She groans but follows you there anyway.
You’re in the tunnel before entering the pitch. The little girl with you seems way more excited from seeing the players standing to your right. She can’t help but look toward Lauren James and Alessia Russo at the end of the tunnel. Not a future defender then.
The signal comes for the teams to enter the pitch. Considering Williamson isn’t starting, it’s Keira Walsh who’s leading the way for England, while Alexia is obviously doing that for Spain.
The noise is deafening when the teams step on the grass. As you line up for the hymns, you look around the full stadium. The kind of crowd that makes the sacrifices to be a professional footballer worth it.
After the hymns, you shake hands with the Lionesses, exchanging some polite “have a good game.” You’ve never played with any of them, so you’re not close to them. You only know Georgia Stanway in passing from her being there when you hung out with your past Bayern teammates. Meanwhile Walsh and Bronze are hugging half the Spanish team.
As the teams get in position, Irene pats your shoulder. “Ready ?” she asks. “Always,” you answer. It’s a tradition between the two of you.
You’ve always enjoyed the pressure of these kinds of games. You know some players have trouble with it. You can’t be a great player if you don’t thrive under pressure. You let out a deep breath when Alexia and Walsh position themselves on the pitch after the coin toss.
Let the game begin.
From the start, it doesn’t feel like a simple qualification game. Challenges are rough, nerves are high.
5 minutes in, there’s a fastbreak for England and Russo gets the ball in an interesting position. You check her with your shoulder to stop the play. She falls to the ground, a bit theatrical in your opinion. The referee whistles for the foul and the English players are calling for a yellow card. Thankfully your challenge is light enough that the ref doesn’t give you one. The free kick leads to nothing, Irene taps in your hand. “Good foul.”
The first half is hell. England manages to stop the team from playing their game, passes are sloppy, runs lead to nothing. It feels like the Spanish block is sitting lower and lower each passing minute. Alexia is playing so low she’s almost at your level.
You weren’t expecting to have so much work, but you handle it well. Russo is getting more and more frustrated with you. The referee already had to tell her to calm down twice.
You’re trying to reposition everyone while holding it together yourself. The whole team is getting frustrated with each other. You point out to Mariona that you can’t even clear the ball because you have no one to pass to, and she bites back that you should just improve your passing.
The fans are chanting, they know they have the upper hand right now. But the defense holds it together, and the Lionesses never get a great chance. It must be a boring game for the fans.
Your jersey is clinging to your skin when halftime comes, you’re feeling the exhaustion of 90 minutes already. Alexia comes to you while you’re walking toward the locker room. Her jaw is set, she’s frustrated. “Irene and you are saving us. Right now we can’t make a fucking pass.” You don’t say anything, you don’t see the need to. “Who’s making the halftime speech between us ?”
“Do it.” You don’t hesitate, you don’t like making them. “I’ll add things if I feel like it’s necessary.”
The team is welcomed into the locker room by a very angry Sonia. Some adjustments are made, the midfield is sitting too low, which is cutting the attackers from the rest of the team. She orders them to be higher. It’s a dangerous play, it means more work for you in the defense, but it’s the only way you will score a goal. Your team doesn’t know how to park the bus and play counter attacks.
Sonia clearly wants some young legs that can run on offense. She changes Esther for Paralluelo, Pina switching to striker. Sonia says a few more words about honor and self-respect before leaving the locker room, closing the door loudly on her way out. The sound echoes in the heavy silence.
Some heads are down. You prepared the game well, trained successfully, only to deliver a terrible first half. You haven’t lost any hope, you know how two halves can be totally different games.
Alexia gets up, everyone looks up at the action. Her motivation speech works well, you can see that a lot of backs are standing up straighter now. You think back to your motivation speech before the penalty shootout, that led to so many misses. It’s what will fuel you, you decide.
In the time you have before coming back on the pitch, you tell Ona to be more careful of Stanway’s movements. She’s too focused on Hemp and it’s causing leaks. She nods, taking it in, and thanks you.
Then you go sit next to Vicky to tell her to use the gaps between Hinds and Wubben-Moy more, instead of only trying to beat Hinds on her left. You know she hasn’t had a lot of touches, but she needs to focus on what she will do when she gets them.
The second half starts with Spain showing some more promises. The attackers are still struggling to get interesting touches. When there is a stop of play, you go toward Alexia, who’s too close to you. “You need to play higher. We can’t build up plays if you’re next to me and Irene.”
She looks unconvinced. “We’re getting split open if I do that.” It’s only the 60th minute, and she looks exhausted. She’s been trying to be everywhere today.
“Trust your backline. Patri is already there to support us. We’re not here to get a draw.” You push her in the back to signal her to go higher, the ball is about to be in play again.
She doesn’t answer, but she plays a bit higher, enough that the wingers finally have some balls they can exploit. It does also mean that England has more space to attack.
Walsh sends a ball that cuts through Irene toward Russo. There’s a flash of Basel, your bad positioning that let her score the equalizing header. You know you’re too late to get it, but go for it anyway. Your cleats meet the side of her ankle. She screams in pain.
You get an immediate yellow card you don’t complain about. It was needed to avoid the one-on-one against Cata. It’s worth it. You still apologize and help Russo get up. You will not become best friends because of this game, that’s for sure.
As the game goes on, you start to run on fumes more than anything else. Olga has to grab you to tell you to stop being everywhere before you collapse on the pitch. You make worse decisions, Patri is frustrated when you open the backline to make a bad tackle on Walsh while she already had that zone covered, you’re lucky it doesn’t lead to anything.
Spain almost gets crucified in the 88th minute. A corner that comes from a missed clearance from you. The ball gets cleared by Irene, but it falls at Stanway’s feet just out of the box. She shoots it immediately, it’s a clean one. Cata isn’t able to stop it because she already tried to make the stop during the corner and is on the other side of the goal. It’s a miracle you have the reflexes to make an acrobatic move with your foot, catching it on the line. It goes out of play shortly after.
The whole team exhales.
90+3’, England are attacking too much because they don’t want a draw from a game where they dominated. You catch an overambitious pass from Bronze. You immediately pass it to Alexia, who’s standing high on the pitch. Vicky makes a run between Hinds and Wubben-Moy. Alexia weighs her pass perfectly and it lands with the right timing for her run. Vicky puts it past Hampton with ease.
Goal for Spain. 0-1.
The silence in Wembley is deafening. You’re so exhausted you don’t even run toward Vicky, while most of the team does. The English players all look like they wanna jump off a bridge.
The final whistle is given as soon as England kicks off. Boos come from the stands, likely to signal to your team that you didn’t deserve the win. Well, not your fault England couldn’t convert. Actually it was a bit your fault, but you’re proud of it.
Adrenaline crashes and you lie on the grass, breathing heavily. Vicky comes running at full speed towards you, you don’t know how she still has legs. She crouches next to you. “Great goal, kid.” You say as you stand up, hugging her side.
You break the embrace and she goes straight to Alexia. To either thank her for the assists or to annoy, you’re not sure which one, likely both.
You go shake the hands of the Lionesses. You don’t talk with them besides the polite “good game”. You do apologize to Russo about the foul and she’s nice about it, saying she isn’t injured and that you played a great game.
Georgia Stanway asks you to exchange jerseys which you agree to easily, even if you don’t really care about it. Usually you give out the jerseys to your friends or family after because you don’t do anything with them. You both put on each other’s jerseys after.
Then you’re pulled over to collect the “player of the game” trophy. You’re surprised it doesn’t go to Vicky. The English TV journalists ask you about the strategy before the game. You say that being this defensive was the plan (it absolutely wasn’t). They joke about you exchanging jerseys with Stanway after stopping her shot late in the game. You give a polite laugh and they release you.
As you’re walking in the tunnel, you feel arms wrapping around your shoulders from behind. You recognize the 11 on the outside of her wrist. “You were amazing today,” she says.
You stop moving, and her chest presses against your back, she wraps her arms tighter. “The whole backline was.” You know she’s rolling her eyes at your deflection. “Can’t say the same for the midfield,” you tease her.
“Asshole.” She whispers in your ear. There’s a certain edge to it, it was maybe a bit too much on your part. You turn around in her arms. You hug her properly with your arms around her waist while hers stay around your shoulders. She only has her sports bra, she must have exchanged her jersey with an England player too, but contrary to you, hers is just put carelessly on one of her shoulders.
You wonder how things changed so quickly between you two. You wouldn’t have considered the idea of hugging a sweaty Alexia and enjoying it three days ago.
She smells like she had just played for 90 minutes, but you don’t really care. Her face is tucked into the side of your neck, you can feel her breath against your skin. “I played like shit,” she complains. You almost argue automatically, then stop yourself.
“Take that as a way to improve without consequences. We know way more about the weaknesses of our team, but it still counts as a win.” She hums, unconvinced by your answer. Your hand that doesn’t have the POTG trophy caresses her back in reassurance. You can feel the muscles and the sweat there.
You can think about another context where you would love to feel Alexia’s muscles and sweat—
You’re absolutely fucked.
You break the embrace. “Come on, let’s go to the media zone. I’m sure we will have some great and insightful questions there.” She groans but she does follow you.
After the media and Sonia’s speech in the locker room, one that wasn’t really complimentary, the team is left alone in the locker room. You’re happy to finally be able to shower. Vicky comes to sit beside you. “So, about our pact…” She’s smiling from ear to ear. To be fair, she earned it.
“Later tonight. I won’t answer in front of the entire locker room.” That would be one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Likely Top 3, and not third.
“Fair.” Vicky shrugs. “Can Jana be there also ?” You throw your head back, it’s gonna be such a terrible moment for you.
The shower is nice and relaxing before the fateful moment. On the bus, you sit next to Esther who tells you a bit more about life in the US, while you catch her up with the last Real news.
There’s a small breakdown happening in the back of your mind, anticipating what Vicky and Jana are hoping to be a revelation.
Before you know it, you’re sitting on your bed with Jana and Vicky looking straight at you from Vicky’s bed. It feels like the Last Judgment.
“A bet is a bet,” says Vicky. She’s gleeful, you wonder if she’s happier right now than when she scored the winning goal. “So, who is it ?”
You take a moment to think. The truth is obvious to you. It has hazel and green eyes, high cheekbones, a sharp jaw, a shy smile and a lot of back tattoos. Saying to Vicky (and to the whole team by extension) would be mortifying. You spent so much time preparing for the game, then you were absolutely exhausted, and now you have to give an answer you can’t give.
You must find a name, quickly so it doesn’t sound too calculated. Why are you suddenly forgetting everyone on the team ? You finally manage to grasp a name, the one you’re the closest to on the team. “Misa.” You blurt out, fighting against a wince. There’s silence, you feel the need to fill it. “And like, it’s awkward cause she’s my teammate and we’re close, even friends and– You start rambling. You’re already deep in the lie, so you’d better make it believable.
“Oh my god, I knew it !” Vicky exclaims. What ?
“No, no, not like that,” you try to interrupt. You’re realizing just now that it might have some unforeseen consequences.
“The way you two always hover close to each other, hang out while you’re already on the same team all year round. You’d be cute together,” Jana adds.
Vicky and Jana look like it’s Christmas and there are even more gifts than expected. You’re mortified by the situation. It will certainly reach Misa’s ears, twisted and amplified by the two demons in front of you, and you don’t know how to handle that.
“Just to be clear, I didn’t say I had a crush on Misa, just that I think she’s the prettiest on the team.” You don’t want it to get too far. It might already be too late for that.
“No, but it’s obvious from the look on your face.” Jana is too happy. Fuck, you’ve played it too much. “And I do think it’s reciprocated.”
“No it’s not. There’s no way,” you say. You’re praying you’re right. “I don’t have a crush on Misa,” you repeat. The kids are unconvinced. You’re an idiot. You get up from your bed. “I’m gonna grab some air outside.”
“Oh, are you going to Misa’s room ?” Vicky winks at you, you wanna die from embarrassment. You can’t even imagine what it would have been like if you told the truth. Likely a lot of shock and then the worst teasing you’ve ever received in your life.
They let you get out in peace, at least. Likely because they want to be able to joke about it with each other. When you’re out of the room, you realize you don’t really know where to go. The room you’re the friendliest with is the one with Misa and Mariona, but you definitely don’t wanna go there right now. You feel bad dragging Misa into this.
You take a few deep breaths, wandering in the corridors of the hotel aimlessly. You think about rooms you could go to, ones that contain teammates or ex-teammates, but they’re always rooming with someone you don’t want to see.
There’s only one viable solution.
You : Your kids are bullying me rn. Plz help
You’re surprised that she answers very quickly.
Alexia : Are you sure I can help with that ?
You : Can I come hang out in your room for a bit ?
Alexia : Yeah of course, room 317
You knock and she opens the door seconds later, in cotton shorts and a Spain hoodie. She opens the door wide and you enter the room. It’s smaller than the shared room, but it still has a big double bed in the middle of it, and she doesn’t have to deal with annoying younger roommates like you do. It’s not a big mess like your room with Vicky, but there’s still some stuff here and there.
“From having been in your room, I figured you wouldn’t judge me for the mess here,” Alexia teases. She knows it’s barely a mess, she just wants a free shot at you. “Come on, sit on the bed.” You do as she says, and she lies next to you. “I could ask you what’s wrong but it’s already in the Barça group chat.”
“There’s no way,” you groan. These kids are way too quick with their phones. “Why is it even in the Barça group chat anyway ?”
Alexia shrugs, unbothered. “You must admit that Madrid captain and vice-captain potentially getting together is great gossip.” Well, said like that it’s indeed great gossip, fuck. “I have huge doubts about it being true gossip.” You raise your head at that. Alexia isn’t looking at you but at the London roofs you can see through the window.
“Why do you say that ?” you ask. She’s right, obviously. You still want to know why she’s so sure she is.
Alexia turns her head to look at you. “From the way you are around each other. You’re too comfortable around her.”
Funny when Vicky and Jana had the opposite conclusion. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“So you do think Misa is the hottest on the team ?” You forgot Alexia is a gossip too. She looks delighted to have you in her room right now to interrogate you.
You weigh it between lying and telling the truth. Alexia is too close to Misa, and you don’t think she’s gonna rat you out to Vicky. “No I don’t, it just seemed like a safe answer.” You can see the way Alexia is about to ask another question. “No, you won’t know the true answer.”
She clicks her tongue in annoyance, but doesn’t complain. “You’re lucky it’s already late, and I’m exhausted after the game. We will talk about that again.” She promises, you hope she won’t keep it. “Do you wanna sleep here ? Vicky won’t let you sleep.”
You hesitate a bit, your brain is fried from tiredness. Alexia asks it so casually that you don’t overthink it. There’s only one bed, but it’s a big one. You’ve slept in beds way smaller with friends of yours. Frankly, you also really don’t want to go back to your room, and you’re starting to feel the game in your body too. “Yes, thanks a lot. That would be nice.”
“I’m just a good captain,” Alexia says casually. “You would have done the same for any player.” It’s the truth, it doesn’t mean it’s not a nice gesture from her still. She lends you some clothes to sleep in and before you know it, you’re both under the covers. Everything smells like Alexia, it makes you feel warm inside. There isn’t an awkward silence, just a polite goodnight. You’re both tired enough that sleep finds you easily.
You’re woken up by Alexia’s alarm, Her groan and the movement as she silences it tell you she’s awake too. You open your eyes with difficulty, a bit of light is coming into the room at the bottom of the curtains. You look at Alexia’s form to be sure you didn’t blanket hog, but it doesn’t seem like you did. “Hola,” you say, your voice is hoarse. You drink some water on the bedside table.
You only get a hum in response. You look at your phone on the bedside table, it’s 8:30. The staff let the team sleep-in, you just have a recovery session at 11 before travelling back to Madrid in the afternoon.
You get up from the bed and stretch, your hands above your head, you can feel your back crack, and it feels good. Your shirt rides up at the movement, Alexia’s gaze drifts up briefly before she rolls onto her back again. “It’s too easy for you to get up,” she complains. Her voice is lower than usual. She’s still in bed, tucked under the sheets, hair messy and eyes half-open. It feels almost domestic, she still looks great, it’s unfair.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for the lazy morning type,” you tease while looking around the room to find your clothes from last night.
“I’m not,” she rebuffs. “I’m just not running everywhere 2 minutes after waking up. 10 minutes in bed feels great.” You shrug, you prefer just sleeping 10 more minutes in that case. You finally find your clothes and go get changed in the bathroom.
When you get out, Alexia is still in the bed, this time on her phone, laughing. Your perplexed look seems to amuse her even more. “I won’t tell you, I will let you go back to your room with Vicky and the mess will happen.” You’re kinda terrified by these words, you’re kinda over the mess too, Alexia seems to realize it. “Hey, if Vicky bothers you too much tell me. I know she can be a lot, so I will tell her to tone it down.”
“Don’t worry about it.” If a talk needs to be had, you’re grown enough to have it yourself. And you’re the one that entertained the kid a bit too much. “Thanks for letting me stay here for the night, it was nice from you.”
Alexia dismisses it, saying it’s nothing. Closing the door behind you feels oddly disappointing.
As soon as you enter your room, Vicky speak up. “Where were you last night ?” It seems like she’s wide awake.
“I don’t see how that’s your business.” It’s not like going to Alexia’s room is a huge secret, even if it feels a bit like one to you. You want to mess with Vicky too.
“I’ve asked Mariona, but apparently Misa slept the whole night in their room. If you had a booty call in London, you wouldn’t have waited for the game, it’s not our first night in London.” Vicky is talking with her hands worse than an Italian, you can almost see the gears turning in her head. Then it looks like she has a eureka moment, you highly doubt it’s the case. “Oh my god is that a Lioness ? Wait, you exchanged jersey with one of them last night. I think it was Stanway ! And you two played for Bayern. It makes so much sense ! I’m gonna ask Keira and Lucy.”
During all her rambling, you’re too stunned to interrupt her. You have no idea how the kid made all these wrong connections in her head. You and Stanway didn’t even play together for Bayern for fuck’s sake. Saying just now you slept in Alexia’s room would seem like you were hiding something by not telling sooner.
You come back to your senses. “No don’t ask them !” You try to take the phone from her hands but she’s too fast. For a defender, your reflexes are lacking.
Vicky looks at her screen. “Oh Lucy already answered !” Then her brows furrow. “Apparently Stanway is in a relationship, you’re not a homewrecker, right ? Lucy is also confused about where Misa stands in all of that.” Will anyone hold a grudge if you throw Vicky off the plane later ? Alexia might, and you don’t want that.
“Oh my god, once again I don’t have a crush on Misa,” you exclaim. You don’t even comment on her telling Lucy that, you think the whole football world knows by now. What a shit show.
“Well yes, I realize that now !” Vicky says, as if she’s frustrated with you. The nerves of this kid. She’s still typing on her phone, likely talking with Lucy, then a smile breaks on her face. Oh no.
“Apparently Lauren James left the hotel late and came back early in the morning, anything to admit ?” She looks smug, the little shit. You’ve never spoken a single word except “good game” to her. “Oh my god you’re turning red. We figured it out !” You’re just red with embarrassment, about the whole thing. Society can be thankful Vicky never joined the police.
“You know what ? I’m just in a bad dream. I’m gonna take a shower and everything is gonna be back to normal after that.” Vicky looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind. You might have, but because of her.
“Or maybe you just need hot water to wake you up after a looong night.” You don’t grace her with an answer. You slept well, actually. Alexia doesn’t snore loudly and doesn’t move too much, which is enough for you to have a great night.
Breakfast is a mess, news travels too fast on this team. Everyone is already in a good mood because of the win against England, but your misfortune is the cherry on the cake. You want to dig a hole and hide in it. Everyone seems to think you’re fucking Lauren James, and that you have something for Misa. They don’t seem to care that these two facts contradict themselves.
Alexia seems torn between making fun of you and sympathizing considering she knows it’s all bullshit. You’re seriously considering saying you actually slept in Alexia’s bed just to bring her in this mess with you. You won’t, because you’re nice to her.
Breakfast is followed by a very awkward chat with Misa where you have to explain the situation to her. She does seem a little hurt when you say she was just the safe-ish answer, but right now you have bigger fish to fry. You’re grateful it was Misa at the end of the day, she won’t escalate it.
By the time you escape Misa and the breakfast room, your phone is vibrating nonstop. You ignore most of them, but do look at what Aitana sent you.
Aitana : I was gonna make fun of the Misa answer
Aitana : But now I’m really confused about this Lauren James thing
Aitana : Like when did it happen ??
Aitana : I need so many explanations for things that happened in the last 24h
Aitana : Congrats on the win against England btw, you were fantastic
Aitana rarely sends so many texts at once, but you can admit it’s a special situation.
You : Can I call you right now ?
Aitana : Yeah, just finished training.
It’s 9h45, recovery is at 11, so you have some time. You negotiate with Vicky for her to leave the room. She seems to accept you’ve been going through a lot this morning and heads off to hang out in another room. You call Aitana on FaceTime, she answers almost immediately.
“You’re back to training with the team ?” You ask her happily, forgetting about your own mess for a few instants.
Her face instantly brightens. “Yes ! It feels so good to be back, you have no idea. But it’s not today’s subject.” You roll your eyes, she looks at you through the screen. “Why do you have Vicky’s Stitch plushie in your arms ?”
The true answer is that it reminds you of Alexia, and you’re stressed right now. “It’s fluffy.” You shrug.
She doesn’t seem to think much of it. “So now, explanations. I feel like I just started the fourth season of a TV show after missing the whole third one.” You’ve weighed it before calling, what you were gonna tell Aitana. You’re just so confused right now, about everything, and Aitana is your closest friend that’s a footballer. Talking about it to one of your friends outside of football would require so much additional context you don’t feel like giving right now.
You trust Aitana. She already knows lots of things about your personal life, as you do about hers. It involves her teammate, but you know she’s not that close to Alexia anyway. So you tell her everything about this week. About the contract, the getting closer to Alexia, and the whole mess that Vicky created. She listens, she jokes, she comments, tells you that you’re an idiot a few times.
“I have no fucking idea what I’m doing right now.” You conclude. Aitana takes some time to weigh all the mess she’s been told.
“You know what, yeah, I can see Alexia being your type.” You want to strangle her, is that what she’s focusing on ?
“That’s the only advice you have to give ? Lauren James literally sent me a DM this morning on Insta to ask me why the whole England team thinks we’re fucking.”
Aitana bursts out laughing, you have already given her a full workout with your story. “Oh you didn’t even tell me that. What did you answer ?”
“I told her it was Lucy Bronze’s fault, and she told me fair enough.” Aitana nods, she’s used to Bronze’s antics too. “How did my life get so messy while I’m not dating footballers ?” You complain.
“The Barcelona girls have a special talent for creating lesbian drama,” Aitana answers seriously. “What do you plan to do regarding Alexia ?”
You furrow your brows. “Absolutely nothing.” You answer as if it was obvious. “I will hangout around her like normal and then we won’t talk outside of camp and I will get back to my senses.”
Aitana seems unconvinced, maybe she knows you too much. You usually have a hard time getting crushes, but when you do, you’re not known to have the best self-control. “Don’t create too much of a mess. Alexia isn’t a bad or a messy person, but it can still end badly considering your positions.” You nod. You know that very well, that’s why nothing is happening. “And if anything does, you see how gossip travels. Be careful that no one finds out.” These are obvious, you sigh.
“Do you want to talk about the contract thing ?” You say no immediately, she nods in understanding. “Update me if it gets messier, I will be here for moral support.”
You roll your eyes. “You just want the gossip.” If you were in her place, you would too. Who knew the Spanish camp would get so interesting ? You’ll have a word with the staff member that makes the room assignments.
“I don’t plan to take another bad decision.” You sure hope you’ll keep your word.
“I’ve heard that so many times from you. It usually ends pretty badly.” You know she’s right. You don’t like that she’s right. That’s why you like to keep football separate, your flings rarely end well.
There’s a knock at the door, you look at the time, it’s almost time for recovery so it must be Vicky. You say your goodbyes to Aitana and let Vicky in. She’s disappointed when you tell her who you were on the phone with.
Your whole day consists of way too much teasing. Even the ones that know you enough to know you wouldn’t have done that, like Olga and Esther, poke fun at you. Alexia is softer with it, so you end up hovering around her most of the day. She doesn’t complain about it.
Coming back to your city feels good, the sun is back and your mood is immediately better. Alexia lets you take her sunglasses, even if she complains about the sun in her eyes. She only puts them back on for the social media video before giving them to you again.
When dinner comes, everyone has eased up on the teasing. They know the fine line between annoying and unbearable. You’re eating the last bites of your fruit salad when your agent calls. You quickly excuse yourself and get up to take the call in a more private space.
The call doesn’t go well. You know the clock is ticking, that you should come closer to a decision. It doesn’t mean you take it well when you’re told that. He tries to get at least some idea of what you want to do but you fucking don’t know. You want to scream, not at him but at the universe. Making decisions is already hard but it feels like the biggest decision of your life.
The call ends up with him frustrated at you. You’re not even mad at him, you’re mad at yourself because you know you’re being unreasonable, but you still can’t fight it.
Every conversation about the contract leaves you feeling trapped in your own life. You try to take a deep breath, it doesn’t work. Your whole body is shaking. You don’t want to come back to your room. Vicky will be there and she’s gonna tease you and you have no problem with it most of the time. Right now, you know you might snap at her and say things you will deeply regret. You like the kid too much for that.
You open Aitana’s contact, but she’s not here physically and that’s what you need right now. You shove your phone in your pocket, then immediately take it back out again. Your hands won’t stay still. The hallway suddenly feels too narrow, you lean against the wall because your legs feel weak. Your thumbs type before your mind can think about it.
You : Can I come hang out in your room ?
You : Please
Alexia : Still at dinner. Give me 10 minutes?
Alexia : Room 119 btw
Alexia : You okay ?
You don’t answer. You’re not even sure how to. You walk in circles waiting for Alexia to send you another text. It comes seven minutes later.
Alexia : I’m in my room, come
You’re not sure you’re in the right state of mind to avoid bad decisions.
not to be that annoying anon but you will only uptade on fridays? 🥺🥺 that’s so far
how will they interact after camp?
Between work, seeing my friends (I'm not home a lot most weekends) and other commitments I genuinely don't have the time to proofread more than a chapter a week.
For after the camp, you will see 👀 It's obviously gonna be different because the camp is a very particular setting.
I LOVED THIS UPDATEEEE, theyre so cute together and their relationship is so positive compared to before. I love how you add little references in asw, like the stitch thing and alexias sunglasses! Thank you so much for sharing cant wait to see future updates.
They have fore sure made some huge improvements. I've tried to make it progressive (more or less) even if it happens pretty quickly. Yes they're adorable together, I absolutely love them.
Yes I love to add these little details that link it to the players irl when I can.
Beyond the Badge | Alexia Putellas x reader - Part 3
Part 3
Summary : You're Real Madrid Femenino personified, the captain, the one who joined the day the club was born. A 15-2 agreggate against Barça makes you wonder if loyalty is enough, and the Spanish camp that follows only make it worse. You've known Alexia Putellas for years but have never been close. This camp has other ideas for you both.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Real Madrid! Reader
Word count : 7.2k
A/n : Firstly, note that this was written before the game against England happened irl. Secondly, I thought about it a lot, and Ale will stay at Barça in this fic. Both because I'm still coping and because a lot of the fic is already written and it would require me to change a lot of the plot.
Masterlist
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Revenge is a dish best served cold, and the weather is bad in London.
Games against England always go beyond the game itself. The last scar dates from less than 12 months ago. Basel is still on everyone’s minds. You were supposed to take the fifth penalty, but never got the chance to shoot it.
After Alexia was subbed out, you were the one with the armband, the one that made the motivation speech before the shoot-out. You almost asked Pau Quesada to remove you from the captain position in Madrid when he took over the team, but chickened out. The wound stayed wide open for months.
England at home is never easy, you and part of the team know it better than the others. 2022, Brighton, first competition you captained for Spain.
Fuck, you really hate England.
Even the youngsters are quieter during breakfast, you miss their noise a little bit. These idiots are starting to get to you, it seems.
You start the day with a press conference, because they’re dying to hear your refreshing and illuminating opinion about the game. Alexia’s closed expression tells you she’s thinking the same thing.
The conference room is packed with media. You know the two Euros wins earned the Lionesses a lot of coverage. Coverage can be a double-edged sword, your team knows it better than any other national team in the world.
Still, it’s always great to see so many media covering a simple qualification game.
Questions are the boring kind, “how do you feel your strengths and weaknesses match against England”, “what does it feel like to play in a stadium like Wembley”. You get so many of them about last Euro that at one point the mediator intervenes to redirect the conference toward today’s game.
One journalist from Mundo Deportivo asks you about playing alongside so many Barça players just a few days after the three Clásicos defeats. You briefly consider telling him to get lost, but the media training kicks in, biting your tongue to swallow the answer you want to give. What comes out is boring, easy. It’s about unity, how the national team will always be more important than club level football.
Once you’re out of the conference and walking toward the locker room, Alexia clears her throat, putting on a falsely serious face. “Excuse me,” she starts in her heavily accented English, shoving her fist near your mouth like a microphone. “Miss, what would you say is the most important to you : a win against England or a win against the great Barcelona ?”
You push her a few feet away from you but can’t help the laugh that comes out of your mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”
She smiles at your reaction and puts her left arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to her. “I know which one is the most likely,” she teases in your ear.
You push her face away from you. “Fuck off Putellas.” Her laughter intensifies. You don’t know why she’s smiling as if she just won a game. She drops her arm once you’ve arrived at the locker room entrance.
When you step on the pitch to train, you can see the eyes of some of the young players shine. Some of them barely allowed themselves to dream about playing in such a big stadium. It wasn’t even a possibility for your generation when you grew up.
Big stadiums don’t faze you anymore. You absolutely love playing in them, even if they’re behind the opposite team.
“Welcome to my home,” Mariona says next to you.
“Not too bad,” you say looking around the stadium. You push her back. “Come on, time to train.”
“Always so serious,” she complains. You shrug in response.
Training goes well. The team works great together, instructions are being followed, everyone feels ready for the game tonight.
The pressure grows during the afternoon. Some work with physios for those who need it, then a last tactical meeting where the starting XI is announced.
It’s pretty clear it’s what the staff considers the best XI for this game : Coll, Carmona, Y/L/N, Paredes, Battle, Putellas, Caldentey, Patri, Vicky, Esther, Pina.
It always surprises people when you tell them, but you don’t have a matchday routine. You’ve always liked to be flexible. You and Olga are discussing the game tactics in the bus, it reminds you of old times.
The atmosphere in Wembley is already buzzing when your team arrives. Everybody puts their stuff in the locker room before going to do some recognition on the pitch. The grass feels, unsurprisingly, the exact same as it did this morning during training. But you know it makes good social media content for them to post how the team has arrived and the greetings with the English players.
You look around the team. Everybody is talking in groups, likely some comments about how alive this stadium will feel when it’s full. You’re sure Mariona is boasting about it again.
You join Alexia and Vicky. “How come you always wear sunglasses ?” You point at said object that’s sitting on Alexia’s nose. “Right now it’s cold and cloudy, you don’t need them.”
Vicky beats Alexia to answering. “It’s for her Instagram dump, she needs to be stylish.”
You can feel Alexia eyeroll even if you can’t see it. “Don’t listen to Stitch,” she waves her hand in dismissal, “They make me feel more mysterious. I don’t like it when people look in my eyes.”
Why ? They’re so pretty. You want to say. You kick yourself mentally the next instant. You settle for something safe instead. “Mysterious, really captain ?”
“That’s my middle name,” she jokes. Vicky seems to start getting bored because she tries to take the sunglasses from Alexia, who pushes her away. “Do I need to remind you that you’re on very thin ice.” She scolds her.
Vicky has the decency to look remorseful. In your opinion, Alexia gives them too long of a leash. She’s strict about football, not as much about off-the-pitch behavior. You will let her handle her problem how she wants. “I’ve apologized like a hundred times since yesterday.” Then there’s a certain glint in her eyes, the one she has when she’s about to make you regret things, you’ve discovered. “You know Capi, there’s nothing to be ashamed of –”
“Dios mío Vicky. If you finish this sentence, I’m making our club transfer you to Russia.” Pink starts coloring Alexia’s cheeks. “Keep all your energy to annoy me and redirect it toward England.”
“Don’t worry, I will be running everywhere during the game.” Then Vicky directs her attention to you. “I mean, I want us to win considering our pact.”
Alexia furrows her brows, they disappear under her sunglasses. “What pact ?”
“It’s a secret,” you answer, wanting to rile her up a little.
Alexia puts her sunglasses on top of her head. Her eyes search yours, then they travel between you and Vicky as if it will give her an answer. You can see the worry in her expression. To be fair, anything with “Vicky” and “secret” in the same sentence would worry you too. “I don’t like that,” she states.
Vicky rubs Alexia’s shoulder patronizingly. “Don’t worry about it Ale, focus on the game.” Then she leaves the two of you to go badger Mapi.
Alexia looks at you. “Tell me what this whole thing is about.” She uses her stern voice or, as everyone on the team calls it, the captain’s voice. It has no effect on you.
You shrug. “You will know soon enough. Vicky won’t be able to keep her mouth shut anyway. Well, it’s only if we win. If we don’t I will tell you what that pact, like Vicky calls it, was about.”
Alexia pouts, genuinely pouts. “Come on tell me.” She’s adorable, you might break, yet somehow you manage to hold your ground. “Does anyone else know ?”
“Jana does.” Alexia opens her mouth in indignation, her brows are even more furrowed than before.
“How the hell are these two keeping it silent ?” To be fair, you wonder that too, but you just shrug.
“Come on Ale we have a game to win. Let’s go to the locker room.” She groans but follows you there anyway.
You’re in the tunnel before entering the pitch. The little girl with you seems way more excited from seeing the players standing to your right. She can’t help but look toward Lauren James and Alessia Russo at the end of the tunnel. Not a future defender then.
The signal comes for the teams to enter the pitch. Considering Williamson isn’t starting, it’s Keira Walsh who’s leading the way for England, while Alexia is obviously doing that for Spain.
The noise is deafening when the teams step on the grass. As you line up for the hymns, you look around the full stadium. The kind of crowd that makes the sacrifices to be a professional footballer worth it.
After the hymns, you shake hands with the Lionesses, exchanging some polite “have a good game.” You’ve never played with any of them, so you’re not close to them. You only know Georgia Stanway in passing from her being there when you hung out with your past Bayern teammates. Meanwhile Walsh and Bronze are hugging half the Spanish team.
As the teams get in position, Irene pats your shoulder. “Ready ?” she asks. “Always,” you answer. It’s a tradition between the two of you.
You’ve always enjoyed the pressure of these kinds of games. You know some players have trouble with it. You can’t be a great player if you don’t thrive under pressure. You let out a deep breath when Alexia and Walsh position themselves on the pitch after the coin toss.
Let the game begin.
From the start, it doesn’t feel like a simple qualification game. Challenges are rough, nerves are high.
5 minutes in, there’s a fastbreak for England and Russo gets the ball in an interesting position. You check her with your shoulder to stop the play. She falls to the ground, a bit theatrical in your opinion. The referee whistles for the foul and the English players are calling for a yellow card. Thankfully your challenge is light enough that the ref doesn’t give you one. The free kick leads to nothing, Irene taps in your hand. “Good foul.”
The first half is hell. England manages to stop the team from playing their game, passes are sloppy, runs lead to nothing. It feels like the Spanish block is sitting lower and lower each passing minute. Alexia is playing so low she’s almost at your level.
You weren’t expecting to have so much work, but you handle it well. Russo is getting more and more frustrated with you. The referee already had to tell her to calm down twice.
You’re trying to reposition everyone while holding it together yourself. The whole team is getting frustrated with each other. You point out to Mariona that you can’t even clear the ball because you have no one to pass to, and she bites back that you should just improve your passing.
The fans are chanting, they know they have the upper hand right now. But the defense holds it together, and the Lionesses never get a great chance. It must be a boring game for the fans.
Your jersey is clinging to your skin when halftime comes, you’re feeling the exhaustion of 90 minutes already. Alexia comes to you while you’re walking toward the locker room. Her jaw is set, she’s frustrated. “Irene and you are saving us. Right now we can’t make a fucking pass.” You don’t say anything, you don’t see the need to. “Who’s making the halftime speech between us ?”
“Do it.” You don’t hesitate, you don’t like making them. “I’ll add things if I feel like it’s necessary.”
The team is welcomed into the locker room by a very angry Sonia. Some adjustments are made, the midfield is sitting too low, which is cutting the attackers from the rest of the team. She orders them to be higher. It’s a dangerous play, it means more work for you in the defense, but it’s the only way you will score a goal. Your team doesn’t know how to park the bus and play counter attacks.
Sonia clearly wants some young legs that can run on offense. She changes Esther for Paralluelo, Pina switching to striker. Sonia says a few more words about honor and self-respect before leaving the locker room, closing the door loudly on her way out. The sound echoes in the heavy silence.
Some heads are down. You prepared the game well, trained successfully, only to deliver a terrible first half. You haven’t lost any hope, you know how two halves can be totally different games.
Alexia gets up, everyone looks up at the action. Her motivation speech works well, you can see that a lot of backs are standing up straighter now. You think back to your motivation speech before the penalty shootout, that led to so many misses. It’s what will fuel you, you decide.
In the time you have before coming back on the pitch, you tell Ona to be more careful of Stanway’s movements. She’s too focused on Hemp and it’s causing leaks. She nods, taking it in, and thanks you.
Then you go sit next to Vicky to tell her to use the gaps between Hinds and Wubben-Moy more, instead of only trying to beat Hinds on her left. You know she hasn’t had a lot of touches, but she needs to focus on what she will do when she gets them.
The second half starts with Spain showing some more promises. The attackers are still struggling to get interesting touches. When there is a stop of play, you go toward Alexia, who’s too close to you. “You need to play higher. We can’t build up plays if you’re next to me and Irene.”
She looks unconvinced. “We’re getting split open if I do that.” It’s only the 60th minute, and she looks exhausted. She’s been trying to be everywhere today.
“Trust your backline. Patri is already there to support us. We’re not here to get a draw.” You push her in the back to signal her to go higher, the ball is about to be in play again.
She doesn’t answer, but she plays a bit higher, enough that the wingers finally have some balls they can exploit. It does also mean that England has more space to attack.
Walsh sends a ball that cuts through Irene toward Russo. There’s a flash of Basel, your bad positioning that let her score the equalizing header. You know you’re too late to get it, but go for it anyway. Your cleats meet the side of her ankle. She screams in pain.
You get an immediate yellow card you don’t complain about. It was needed to avoid the one-on-one against Cata. It’s worth it. You still apologize and help Russo get up. You will not become best friends because of this game, that’s for sure.
As the game goes on, you start to run on fumes more than anything else. Olga has to grab you to tell you to stop being everywhere before you collapse on the pitch. You make worse decisions, Patri is frustrated when you open the backline to make a bad tackle on Walsh while she already had that zone covered, you’re lucky it doesn’t lead to anything.
Spain almost gets crucified in the 88th minute. A corner that comes from a missed clearance from you. The ball gets cleared by Irene, but it falls at Stanway’s feet just out of the box. She shoots it immediately, it’s a clean one. Cata isn’t able to stop it because she already tried to make the stop during the corner and is on the other side of the goal. It’s a miracle you have the reflexes to make an acrobatic move with your foot, catching it on the line. It goes out of play shortly after.
The whole team exhales.
90+3’, England are attacking too much because they don’t want a draw from a game where they dominated. You catch an overambitious pass from Bronze. You immediately pass it to Alexia, who’s standing high on the pitch. Vicky makes a run between Hinds and Wubben-Moy. Alexia weighs her pass perfectly and it lands with the right timing for her run. Vicky puts it past Hampton with ease.
Goal for Spain. 0-1.
The silence in Wembley is deafening. You’re so exhausted you don’t even run toward Vicky, while most of the team does. The English players all look like they wanna jump off a bridge.
The final whistle is given as soon as England kicks off. Boos come from the stands, likely to signal to your team that you didn’t deserve the win. Well, not your fault England couldn’t convert. Actually it was a bit your fault, but you’re proud of it.
Adrenaline crashes and you lie on the grass, breathing heavily. Vicky comes running at full speed towards you, you don’t know how she still has legs. She crouches next to you. “Great goal, kid.” You say as you stand up, hugging her side.
You break the embrace and she goes straight to Alexia. To either thank her for the assists or to annoy, you’re not sure which one, likely both.
You go shake the hands of the Lionesses. You don’t talk with them besides the polite “good game”. You do apologize to Russo about the foul and she’s nice about it, saying she isn’t injured and that you played a great game.
Georgia Stanway asks you to exchange jerseys which you agree to easily, even if you don’t really care about it. Usually you give out the jerseys to your friends or family after because you don’t do anything with them. You both put on each other’s jerseys after.
Then you’re pulled over to collect the “player of the game” trophy. You’re surprised it doesn’t go to Vicky. The English TV journalists ask you about the strategy before the game. You say that being this defensive was the plan (it absolutely wasn’t). They joke about you exchanging jerseys with Stanway after stopping her shot late in the game. You give a polite laugh and they release you.
As you’re walking in the tunnel, you feel arms wrapping around your shoulders from behind. You recognize the 11 on the outside of her wrist. “You were amazing today,” she says.
You stop moving, and her chest presses against your back, she wraps her arms tighter. “The whole backline was.” You know she’s rolling her eyes at your deflection. “Can’t say the same for the midfield,” you tease her.
“Asshole.” She whispers in your ear. There’s a certain edge to it, it was maybe a bit too much on your part. You turn around in her arms. You hug her properly with your arms around her waist while hers stay around your shoulders. She only has her sports bra, she must have exchanged her jersey with an England player too, but contrary to you, hers is just put carelessly on one of her shoulders.
You wonder how things changed so quickly between you two. You wouldn’t have considered the idea of hugging a sweaty Alexia and enjoying it three days ago.
She smells like she had just played for 90 minutes, but you don’t really care. Her face is tucked into the side of your neck, you can feel her breath against your skin. “I played like shit,” she complains. You almost argue automatically, then stop yourself.
“Take that as a way to improve without consequences. We know way more about the weaknesses of our team, but it still counts as a win.” She hums, unconvinced by your answer. Your hand that doesn’t have the POTG trophy caresses her back in reassurance. You can feel the muscles and the sweat there.
You can think about another context where you would love to feel Alexia’s muscles and sweat—
You’re absolutely fucked.
You break the embrace. “Come on, let’s go to the media zone. I’m sure we will have some great and insightful questions there.” She groans but she does follow you.
After the media and Sonia’s speech in the locker room, one that wasn’t really complimentary, the team is left alone in the locker room. You’re happy to finally be able to shower. Vicky comes to sit beside you. “So, about our pact…” She’s smiling from ear to ear. To be fair, she earned it.
“Later tonight. I won’t answer in front of the entire locker room.” That would be one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. Likely Top 3, and not third.
“Fair.” Vicky shrugs. “Can Jana be there also ?” You throw your head back, it’s gonna be such a terrible moment for you.
The shower is nice and relaxing before the fateful moment. On the bus, you sit next to Esther who tells you a bit more about life in the US, while you catch her up with the last Real news.
There’s a small breakdown happening in the back of your mind, anticipating what Vicky and Jana are hoping to be a revelation.
Before you know it, you’re sitting on your bed with Jana and Vicky looking straight at you from Vicky’s bed. It feels like the Last Judgment.
“A bet is a bet,” says Vicky. She’s gleeful, you wonder if she’s happier right now than when she scored the winning goal. “So, who is it ?”
You take a moment to think. The truth is obvious to you. It has hazel and green eyes, high cheekbones, a sharp jaw, a shy smile and a lot of back tattoos. Saying to Vicky (and to the whole team by extension) would be mortifying. You spent so much time preparing for the game, then you were absolutely exhausted, and now you have to give an answer you can’t give.
You must find a name, quickly so it doesn’t sound too calculated. Why are you suddenly forgetting everyone on the team ? You finally manage to grasp a name, the one you’re the closest to on the team. “Misa.” You blurt out, fighting against a wince. There’s silence, you feel the need to fill it. “And like, it’s awkward cause she’s my teammate and we’re close, even friends and– You start rambling. You’re already deep in the lie, so you’d better make it believable.
“Oh my god, I knew it !” Vicky exclaims. What ?
“No, no, not like that,” you try to interrupt. You’re realizing just now that it might have some unforeseen consequences.
“The way you two always hover close to each other, hang out while you’re already on the same team all year round. You’d be cute together,” Jana adds.
Vicky and Jana look like it’s Christmas and there are even more gifts than expected. You’re mortified by the situation. It will certainly reach Misa’s ears, twisted and amplified by the two demons in front of you, and you don’t know how to handle that.
“Just to be clear, I didn’t say I had a crush on Misa, just that I think she’s the prettiest on the team.” You don’t want it to get too far. It might already be too late for that.
“No, but it’s obvious from the look on your face.” Jana is too happy. Fuck, you’ve played it too much. “And I do think it’s reciprocated.”
“No it’s not. There’s no way,” you say. You’re praying you’re right. “I don’t have a crush on Misa,” you repeat. The kids are unconvinced. You’re an idiot. You get up from your bed. “I’m gonna grab some air outside.”
“Oh, are you going to Misa’s room ?” Vicky winks at you, you wanna die from embarrassment. You can’t even imagine what it would have been like if you told the truth. Likely a lot of shock and then the worst teasing you’ve ever received in your life.
They let you get out in peace, at least. Likely because they want to be able to joke about it with each other. When you’re out of the room, you realize you don’t really know where to go. The room you’re the friendliest with is the one with Misa and Mariona, but you definitely don’t wanna go there right now. You feel bad dragging Misa into this.
You take a few deep breaths, wandering in the corridors of the hotel aimlessly. You think about rooms you could go to, ones that contain teammates or ex-teammates, but they’re always rooming with someone you don’t want to see.
There’s only one viable solution.
You : Your kids are bullying me rn. Plz help
You’re surprised that she answers very quickly.
Alexia : Are you sure I can help with that ?
You : Can I come hang out in your room for a bit ?
Alexia : Yeah of course, room 317
You knock and she opens the door seconds later, in cotton shorts and a Spain hoodie. She opens the door wide and you enter the room. It’s smaller than the shared room, but it still has a big double bed in the middle of it, and she doesn’t have to deal with annoying younger roommates like you do. It’s not a big mess like your room with Vicky, but there’s still some stuff here and there.
“From having been in your room, I figured you wouldn’t judge me for the mess here,” Alexia teases. She knows it’s barely a mess, she just wants a free shot at you. “Come on, sit on the bed.” You do as she says, and she lies next to you. “I could ask you what’s wrong but it’s already in the Barça group chat.”
“There’s no way,” you groan. These kids are way too quick with their phones. “Why is it even in the Barça group chat anyway ?”
Alexia shrugs, unbothered. “You must admit that Madrid captain and vice-captain potentially getting together is great gossip.” Well, said like that it’s indeed great gossip, fuck. “I have huge doubts about it being true gossip.” You raise your head at that. Alexia isn’t looking at you but at the London roofs you can see through the window.
“Why do you say that ?” you ask. She’s right, obviously. You still want to know why she’s so sure she is.
Alexia turns her head to look at you. “From the way you are around each other. You’re too comfortable around her.”
Funny when Vicky and Jana had the opposite conclusion. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“So you do think Misa is the hottest on the team ?” You forgot Alexia is a gossip too. She looks delighted to have you in her room right now to interrogate you.
You weigh it between lying and telling the truth. Alexia is too close to Misa, and you don’t think she’s gonna rat you out to Vicky. “No I don’t, it just seemed like a safe answer.” You can see the way Alexia is about to ask another question. “No, you won’t know the true answer.”
She clicks her tongue in annoyance, but doesn’t complain. “You’re lucky it’s already late, and I’m exhausted after the game. We will talk about that again.” She promises, you hope she won’t keep it. “Do you wanna sleep here ? Vicky won’t let you sleep.”
You hesitate a bit, your brain is fried from tiredness. Alexia asks it so casually that you don’t overthink it. There’s only one bed, but it’s a big one. You’ve slept in beds way smaller with friends of yours. Frankly, you also really don’t want to go back to your room, and you’re starting to feel the game in your body too. “Yes, thanks a lot. That would be nice.”
“I’m just a good captain,” Alexia says casually. “You would have done the same for any player.” It’s the truth, it doesn’t mean it’s not a nice gesture from her still. She lends you some clothes to sleep in and before you know it, you’re both under the covers. Everything smells like Alexia, it makes you feel warm inside. There isn’t an awkward silence, just a polite goodnight. You’re both tired enough that sleep finds you easily.
You’re woken up by Alexia’s alarm, Her groan and the movement as she silences it tell you she’s awake too. You open your eyes with difficulty, a bit of light is coming into the room at the bottom of the curtains. You look at Alexia’s form to be sure you didn’t blanket hog, but it doesn’t seem like you did. “Hola,” you say, your voice is hoarse. You drink some water on the bedside table.
You only get a hum in response. You look at your phone on the bedside table, it’s 8:30. The staff let the team sleep-in, you just have a recovery session at 11 before travelling back to Madrid in the afternoon.
You get up from the bed and stretch, your hands above your head, you can feel your back crack, and it feels good. Your shirt rides up at the movement, Alexia’s gaze drifts up briefly before she rolls onto her back again. “It’s too easy for you to get up,” she complains. Her voice is lower than usual. She’s still in bed, tucked under the sheets, hair messy and eyes half-open. It feels almost domestic, she still looks great, it’s unfair.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for the lazy morning type,” you tease while looking around the room to find your clothes from last night.
“I’m not,” she rebuffs. “I’m just not running everywhere 2 minutes after waking up. 10 minutes in bed feels great.” You shrug, you prefer just sleeping 10 more minutes in that case. You finally find your clothes and go get changed in the bathroom.
When you get out, Alexia is still in the bed, this time on her phone, laughing. Your perplexed look seems to amuse her even more. “I won’t tell you, I will let you go back to your room with Vicky and the mess will happen.” You’re kinda terrified by these words, you’re kinda over the mess too, Alexia seems to realize it. “Hey, if Vicky bothers you too much tell me. I know she can be a lot, so I will tell her to tone it down.”
“Don’t worry about it.” If a talk needs to be had, you’re grown enough to have it yourself. And you’re the one that entertained the kid a bit too much. “Thanks for letting me stay here for the night, it was nice from you.”
Alexia dismisses it, saying it’s nothing. Closing the door behind you feels oddly disappointing.
As soon as you enter your room, Vicky speak up. “Where were you last night ?” It seems like she’s wide awake.
“I don’t see how that’s your business.” It’s not like going to Alexia’s room is a huge secret, even if it feels a bit like one to you. You want to mess with Vicky too.
“I’ve asked Mariona, but apparently Misa slept the whole night in their room. If you had a booty call in London, you wouldn’t have waited for the game, it’s not our first night in London.” Vicky is talking with her hands worse than an Italian, you can almost see the gears turning in her head. Then it looks like she has a eureka moment, you highly doubt it’s the case. “Oh my god is that a Lioness ? Wait, you exchanged jersey with one of them last night. I think it was Stanway ! And you two played for Bayern. It makes so much sense ! I’m gonna ask Keira and Lucy.”
During all her rambling, you’re too stunned to interrupt her. You have no idea how the kid made all these wrong connections in her head. You and Stanway didn’t even play together for Bayern for fuck’s sake. Saying just now you slept in Alexia’s room would seem like you were hiding something by not telling sooner.
You come back to your senses. “No don’t ask them !” You try to take the phone from her hands but she’s too fast. For a defender, your reflexes are lacking.
Vicky looks at her screen. “Oh Lucy already answered !” Then her brows furrow. “Apparently Stanway is in a relationship, you’re not a homewrecker, right ? Lucy is also confused about where Misa stands in all of that.” Will anyone hold a grudge if you throw Vicky off the plane later ? Alexia might, and you don’t want that.
“Oh my god, once again I don’t have a crush on Misa,” you exclaim. You don’t even comment on her telling Lucy that, you think the whole football world knows by now. What a shit show.
“Well yes, I realize that now !” Vicky says, as if she’s frustrated with you. The nerves of this kid. She’s still typing on her phone, likely talking with Lucy, then a smile breaks on her face. Oh no.
“Apparently Lauren James left the hotel late and came back early in the morning, anything to admit ?” She looks smug, the little shit. You’ve never spoken a single word except “good game” to her. “Oh my god you’re turning red. We figured it out !” You’re just red with embarrassment, about the whole thing. Society can be thankful Vicky never joined the police.
“You know what ? I’m just in a bad dream. I’m gonna take a shower and everything is gonna be back to normal after that.” Vicky looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind. You might have, but because of her.
“Or maybe you just need hot water to wake you up after a looong night.” You don’t grace her with an answer. You slept well, actually. Alexia doesn’t snore loudly and doesn’t move too much, which is enough for you to have a great night.
Breakfast is a mess, news travels too fast on this team. Everyone is already in a good mood because of the win against England, but your misfortune is the cherry on the cake. You want to dig a hole and hide in it. Everyone seems to think you’re fucking Lauren James, and that you have something for Misa. They don’t seem to care that these two facts contradict themselves.
Alexia seems torn between making fun of you and sympathizing considering she knows it’s all bullshit. You’re seriously considering saying you actually slept in Alexia’s bed just to bring her in this mess with you. You won’t, because you’re nice to her.
Breakfast is followed by a very awkward chat with Misa where you have to explain the situation to her. She does seem a little hurt when you say she was just the safe-ish answer, but right now you have bigger fish to fry. You’re grateful it was Misa at the end of the day, she won’t escalate it.
By the time you escape Misa and the breakfast room, your phone is vibrating nonstop. You ignore most of them, but do look at what Aitana sent you.
Aitana : I was gonna make fun of the Misa answer
Aitana : But now I’m really confused about this Lauren James thing
Aitana : Like when did it happen ??
Aitana : I need so many explanations for things that happened in the last 24h
Aitana : Congrats on the win against England btw, you were fantastic
Aitana rarely sends so many texts at once, but you can admit it’s a special situation.
You : Can I call you right now ?
Aitana : Yeah, just finished training.
It’s 9h45, recovery is at 11, so you have some time. You negotiate with Vicky for her to leave the room. She seems to accept you’ve been going through a lot this morning and heads off to hang out in another room. You call Aitana on FaceTime, she answers almost immediately.
“You’re back to training with the team ?” You ask her happily, forgetting about your own mess for a few instants.
Her face instantly brightens. “Yes ! It feels so good to be back, you have no idea. But it’s not today’s subject.” You roll your eyes, she looks at you through the screen. “Why do you have Vicky’s Stitch plushie in your arms ?”
The true answer is that it reminds you of Alexia, and you’re stressed right now. “It’s fluffy.” You shrug.
She doesn’t seem to think much of it. “So now, explanations. I feel like I just started the fourth season of a TV show after missing the whole third one.” You’ve weighed it before calling, what you were gonna tell Aitana. You’re just so confused right now, about everything, and Aitana is your closest friend that’s a footballer. Talking about it to one of your friends outside of football would require so much additional context you don’t feel like giving right now.
You trust Aitana. She already knows lots of things about your personal life, as you do about hers. It involves her teammate, but you know she’s not that close to Alexia anyway. So you tell her everything about this week. About the contract, the getting closer to Alexia, and the whole mess that Vicky created. She listens, she jokes, she comments, tells you that you’re an idiot a few times.
“I have no fucking idea what I’m doing right now.” You conclude. Aitana takes some time to weigh all the mess she’s been told.
“You know what, yeah, I can see Alexia being your type.” You want to strangle her, is that what she’s focusing on ?
“That’s the only advice you have to give ? Lauren James literally sent me a DM this morning on Insta to ask me why the whole England team thinks we’re fucking.”
Aitana bursts out laughing, you have already given her a full workout with your story. “Oh you didn’t even tell me that. What did you answer ?”
“I told her it was Lucy Bronze’s fault, and she told me fair enough.” Aitana nods, she’s used to Bronze’s antics too. “How did my life get so messy while I’m not dating footballers ?” You complain.
“The Barcelona girls have a special talent for creating lesbian drama,” Aitana answers seriously. “What do you plan to do regarding Alexia ?”
You furrow your brows. “Absolutely nothing.” You answer as if it was obvious. “I will hangout around her like normal and then we won’t talk outside of camp and I will get back to my senses.”
Aitana seems unconvinced, maybe she knows you too much. You usually have a hard time getting crushes, but when you do, you’re not known to have the best self-control. “Don’t create too much of a mess. Alexia isn’t a bad or a messy person, but it can still end badly considering your positions.” You nod. You know that very well, that’s why nothing is happening. “And if anything does, you see how gossip travels. Be careful that no one finds out.” These are obvious, you sigh.
“Do you want to talk about the contract thing ?” You say no immediately, she nods in understanding. “Update me if it gets messier, I will be here for moral support.”
You roll your eyes. “You just want the gossip.” If you were in her place, you would too. Who knew the Spanish camp would get so interesting ? You’ll have a word with the staff member that makes the room assignments.
“I don’t plan to take another bad decision.” You sure hope you’ll keep your word.
“I’ve heard that so many times from you. It usually ends pretty badly.” You know she’s right. You don’t like that she’s right. That’s why you like to keep football separate, your flings rarely end well.
There’s a knock at the door, you look at the time, it’s almost time for recovery so it must be Vicky. You say your goodbyes to Aitana and let Vicky in. She’s disappointed when you tell her who you were on the phone with.
Your whole day consists of way too much teasing. Even the ones that know you enough to know you wouldn’t have done that, like Olga and Esther, poke fun at you. Alexia is softer with it, so you end up hovering around her most of the day. She doesn’t complain about it.
Coming back to your city feels good, the sun is back and your mood is immediately better. Alexia lets you take her sunglasses, even if she complains about the sun in her eyes. She only puts them back on for the social media video before giving them to you again.
When dinner comes, everyone has eased up on the teasing. They know the fine line between annoying and unbearable. You’re eating the last bites of your fruit salad when your agent calls. You quickly excuse yourself and get up to take the call in a more private space.
The call doesn’t go well. You know the clock is ticking, that you should come closer to a decision. It doesn’t mean you take it well when you’re told that. He tries to get at least some idea of what you want to do but you fucking don’t know. You want to scream, not at him but at the universe. Making decisions is already hard but it feels like the biggest decision of your life.
The call ends up with him frustrated at you. You’re not even mad at him, you’re mad at yourself because you know you’re being unreasonable, but you still can’t fight it.
Every conversation about the contract leaves you feeling trapped in your own life. You try to take a deep breath, it doesn’t work. Your whole body is shaking. You don’t want to come back to your room. Vicky will be there and she’s gonna tease you and you have no problem with it most of the time. Right now, you know you might snap at her and say things you will deeply regret. You like the kid too much for that.
You open Aitana’s contact, but she’s not here physically and that’s what you need right now. You shove your phone in your pocket, then immediately take it back out again. Your hands won’t stay still. The hallway suddenly feels too narrow, you lean against the wall because your legs feel weak. Your thumbs type before your mind can think about it.
You : Can I come hang out in your room ?
You : Please
Alexia : Still at dinner. Give me 10 minutes?
Alexia : Room 119 btw
Alexia : You okay ?
You don’t answer. You’re not even sure how to. You walk in circles waiting for Alexia to send you another text. It comes seven minutes later.
Alexia : I’m in my room, come
You’re not sure you’re in the right state of mind to avoid bad decisions.
The more things change, the more they stay the same | Alexia Putellas x reader
Summary : You resent her. You resent football, the club, the move, the way she rewrites the same text a hundred times because she needs it to be perfect. But then she kisses you, and you remember why you've spent fourteen years setting yourself on fire.
Pairing : Alexia Putellas x Reader
Word count : 2.7k
A/n : I wrote it after Alexia's video about leaving Barça, so it was entirely to cope. This story assumes she's going to London City.
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You look around your new house near London. Issued by the club because it was part of the contract negotiations. It’s in Keston Park, too showy for your taste but it’s a 3-year rental, not a new life plan. It’s already furnished, lifeless because the walls are white to let its inhabitants personalize them.
Alexia is in another room, doing a video call with Eli to show her around. She’s enthusiastic, maybe to persuade herself she made the better choice, maybe because she’s genuinely happy.
You go lie on the sofa. It’s comfortable, annoyingly so. You look outside, there’s a garden, flowers blooming. There’s no swimming pool, the explanation was that it would be used too little considering the weather. Even Alexia made a face at that.
You throw your head back, closing your eyes. You wouldn't have believed someone who told you this would become your life. Living in a mansion in a gated community after growing up in a small apartment in Girona where you shared a room with your two sisters.
Everything is because of Alexia, like a lot of things in your life. The one responsible for the highest highs and the lowest lows you’ve experienced.
When people talk to you about your wife, the image that first comes to your mind is the reserved kid that sat next to you at university all these years ago because there was no other seat left.
She had that posture, that focused look nobody should have at an 8 AM class about Supply Chain Management. You were fascinated, instantly. Your plan immediately became to discover the ways you could distract her. Childish, you know. To be fair, you were both children at the time.
Teenage Alexia proved herself to be easy to distract when said distraction was a pretty girl. She would protest when you stole her pen and sit next to you anyway every time. You felt empty every time she missed classes because of training or a game.
It didn’t take long for you to learn that football was her whole life, to a worrying degree. You always came to her games because she begged you to. You would let her rant about tactics and why the coaches were wrong about their game plan just because her eyes sparkled a certain way when talking about her sport.
Your fondest memories of this time are when she would come to your tiny apartment under the pretense of studying. You always ended up putting the world to rights instead. It’s where Alexia became Ale for you, where she opened up to you about things she would usually only tell her family. You learnt about every small and big scar, about her father, about her dreams. You shared everything with her too.
It took months for you two to finally do something about what everyone was seeing. You drove to a beach near Barcelona when Alexia had a rare off day with neither class nor football. You always laugh about how people see her as the fearless captain, the one person who will never crumble under pressure. She was a bag of nerves that whole day, only gathered the courage to kiss you at sunset.
You had kissed boys and a girl before that, but nothing compared to Alexia. You understood all these people that talked about butterflies and fireworks. Alexia came home after her curfew that night because you couldn’t stop kissing each other in the back of your car. Alba never let it go once she learned that story years later.
Puppy love.
You’ve been together since that day. People often assume it must be smooth sailing, meeting the love of your life and staying together. You realized quickly that, for an athlete, winning is a short high while losses leave big scars.
Alexia was often unbearable about football. Sometimes you wonder if the injury saved your relationship. That was when your wife realized that football wouldn’t be forever. Your house became full of life, her teammates and your friends invited more often.
That’s why you were floored when she first seriously brought up the idea of leaving. Offers came and went every summer, it’s normal when you are a professional football player of Alexia’s talent. You met her when she had a Barça jersey on her shoulders, you couldn’t imagine her without one.
You were eating strawberries at the edge of the pool, one of the first times this year that you could put your feet in the water without freezing. Alexia had declined, always cold this one. “An offer came in,” she said, her voice low. Your hand stopped its movement to bring another fruit to your mouth.
It worried you, instantly, because Alexia was never nervous about bringing up things to you, you were past that. She only did that when she made a mistake. “From whom ?”
“London City.” She’s avoiding your eyes, you don’t like that.
“Jana’s club right ?” She nods. You don’t know much about them, you don’t have any memory about Barça facing them in the Champions League, which is usually how far your football interest goes.
“It’s huge, Barcelona will never match that. And we’re only at the start of negotiations.”
People ask you if fame and money changed Alexia, your answer is always duh. Expectations are crushing when you’re the face of women’s football. When it’s just the two of you, limbs tangled in the bed, Alexia calls it a curse. Can’t kiss your wife on vacation without it being on the frontpages of some low-level tabloid, can barely eat at a restaurant in Mollet because fans are approaching you constantly.
You get it now, why athletes go crazy. Short career, everyone wants a piece of you once you’re at the top, fans are both the reason you’re here and the reason your mental health is at an all-time low.
There's money everywhere when you're Alexia Putellas. Pretty face, two times Ballon d’Or winner, no scandal to her name. Both you and Alexia grew up with enough scarcity and parents’ sacrifices to know its worth.
Money talks.
You’re the first one Alexia told about her decision, after endless talking with everyone she has full trust in. She drove you both to the beach of your first kiss. Her cap and sunglasses were on her face, but she removed them once you’re seated.
“We’re going to London,” she states.
She knows your opinion on the subject. For you, living in Barcelona and not Girona after university was already a compromise. You vetoed any offer from another continent, which Alexia accepted. Agreeing to follow her to London required a lot of effort on her part, and persistence. Unfortunately for you, Alexia had plenty of persistence.
You look at the horizon, not offering her an answer for a while. Alexia always respects silence, another thing football has told her, waiting to see the opening instead of making moves that are too optimistic.
“Your mom is gonna be devastated,” you start with, Alexia physically winces. Telling Eli won’t be easy.
“She will understand,” Alexia answers.
“She won’t, she will put on a smile because she loves you.” She doesn’t argue, because she knows you’re right.
“I promise, London will be great.” The tone of her voice doesn’t match the confidence of her words. Alexia had never been great at hiding her emotions from you. She does it so much with everyone else that she gives up once it’s just the two of you.
“Who are you telling it to, amor ?” The last word tastes bitter in your mouth.
Alexia sighs, you look at her and her eyes are shiny. Anger vanishes from you immediately. “Please don’t hate me.”
You grab her chin, turning her toward you. “I couldn’t even if I tried,” you whisper before kissing her. Butterflies died years ago, but kissing Alexia still feels like coming home, no matter where.
To set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.
Both of you are on the couch of your Barcelona house. You bought it years ago, you were in an apartment before that. The apartment location was better, but the house is in a wealthier part of Barcelona, quieter. You’re the one that insisted on moving out. Your main reason was hypothetical future children. You’re for sure not raising kids in London, far from their grandparents.
You focus on the noise of the crickets outside, while Alexia rewrites for the hundredth time her text for the departure video. It makes you crazy, the sound of her deleting and retyping. Her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, it’s your favorite unconscious gesture.
“Ale, I’m sure it’s great already.” You interrupt her.
She doesn’t even take her gaze away from the screen. “I need it to be perfect.”
You sigh, Alexia was born with perfectionism, Eli always says. It shows in the way she tidies your room or chops her vegetables. The downside is she could spend hours on something when she believes a 99 could become a 100. You know today there’s something else behind it, she’s fidgeting too much, it’s unlike her.
“Let me read it, amor.” Alexia hands you the laptop, because she trusts you more than she trusts herself.
You go through the whole thing with her, patiently, because you know she needs it. She still has one week to send it to her PR team.
She shifts against you. “I’m telling the team tomorrow.” Her voice is fragile. You look into her eyes and are sent back more than a decade.
It was you and Alexia in your car, you had driven her home from your apartment. For once, some real studying was done, because apparently Alexia was suddenly very motivated to write her Corporate Finance essay.
Now she’s fidgeting in the passenger seat, not even unbuckling despite you arriving at the destination. Her fingers are tapping on the dashboard, you grab her hand before you go crazy and interlace your fingers. “I’m coming out to mami and Alba, tonight.” She admits.
You freeze. There have been some informal chats about her coming out before that, but nothing so concrete. “You’re what ?”
“I’m coming out.” She’s avoiding your eyes, as if afraid you’ll be mad.
“Corazón, it’s great !” You say with enthusiasm to get her out of her own head.
She shakes her head. “They will be disappointed, especially mami. She always talks about my future husband and our kids.”
“They’ll take it well, you know. They love you enough for that, even if there is some disappointment.” Your hand rubs her thigh. “I have a feeling they know already anyway.”
You’re back in the present, on an expensive couch worth more than the car you had at the time. You repeat the same words to her.
She thanks you, kissing your shoulder, and takes the laptop back from you. You expect her to close it, but she goes back to the start of the text to perfect it. You sigh.
Running in place.
You’re at the after-party, everyone is drunk beyond reason, both from alcohol and happiness. Alexia is wandering around, because everyone has something to ask her tonight. The gold medal of her fourth Champions League title is hanging around her neck. Likely also her last.
You let her drag you around with her, because you can’t say no to an Alexia in this state of blissfulness. You laugh at her stupid dances for TikToks that you sure as hell hope will stay in her drafts of the kids’ accounts.
This team is your family too, in a certain way. Your stepfamily at least. You will miss the kids that crashed at your house when they wanted a swimming pool and free snacks. You will miss the late-night talks with Irene, Caro and Marta around a bottle of wine. You will still be part of this family in London with Jana and Mapi, but it won’t be the same as Barça.
Alexia circles her arms against your waist, getting you out of your thoughts. “Come on, celebrate.” She smiles as she hands you another cocktail, where the bartender likely went heavy-handed as with the others.
You find yourself naked on top of your wife in the late hours of the night or the early hours of the morning depending on your perspective. Alexia always prefers when you take care of things, it’s the only moment where everything is entirely about her enjoyment and not about expectations.
Your fingers are working between her legs while your lips kiss the metal still sitting on her chest, the only thing she insisted stayed on. It’s taking longer than usual because of your shared inhibition, but you don’t care, you could listen to the small noises Alexia makes for your whole life.
It takes both your fingers and your tongue between her legs for her to come. She’s a bit loud but you don’t care, people are either asleep or too drunk to judge. You wipe your fingers on the sheets and lie on your side, tracing the muscles still pulsing, well defined.
“I love you so much, mi amor.” She breathes out when she comes back to her senses. You smile, not stopping the path of your fingers.
Celebrating a title is one of your favorite moment to have sex, because Alexia is present with you and is exhibiting a very rare level of carefreeness for her. You think of her leaving for a club not even playing the Champions League. You don’t even care about football itself, never really did. You just know you will barely see this version of Ale again, and that hope depends a lot on Spain's good results.
“You resent me,” she states in the silence of the room. There’s sadness in her eyes, Alexia isn’t a depressed drunk, it’s entirely your fault.
Your fingers keep mapping her body, as if you don’t know every ridge by heart. “I don’t resent you. I resent football, I resent Barça. I resent the fact I agree with your choice when I’m being rational.” You play with the ribbon of her medal.
“Are you afraid sometimes that it’s gonna break us ?”
Your hand travels to grab the gold in your palm. “I’ve always been afraid of football breaking us, Ale. It hasn’t yet.”
Hollow victory.
It’s been around two weeks since you’ve moved to England. You’re in your study, working on a report for Alexia’s foundation. You’ve been working for it since its creation. You still had your office job at the time, in a soulless corporation. Alexia was making more than enough money for both of you. You know you would have become crazy with nothing to do, it was the perfect occasion.
There’s a faint knock before Alexia comes in. She has some ice around her knee because of training. The weight of the years. She has some paper in her hands.
She sits next to you on your office couch. She has her own office, the house is big enough for that. She still always comes to yours when you’re in there. Her office is only occupied for interviews.
You always get distracted when Alexia does office work. You’ve been together for 14 years, it shouldn’t be possible. You like seeing the way her face moves as she concentrates, the way her brow furrows when she disagrees with something, the way her tongue pokes out as she writes. The sight alone could make you fall in love with her again and again.
Said object of concentration today is a scouting report for their first preseason game against Arsenal. Alexia is annotating the paper with additional inputs she has on opposing players.
You can’t help it, Alexia concentrating only makes you want to distract her so her focus is on you. You grab the pen from her hands just to annoy her, stopping her sentence about Mariona’s positioning. She turns to you, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Really amor ? You haven’t grown in all these years ?” You shake your head, sticking your tongue out to bait her. She laughs fondly and kisses you.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
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A/n : I hope the timeline wasn't too messy to follow. I do love to put a bit of younger Ale
