The fic highway for all your Woso, NWSL, WSL, Liga F, Division 1 Feminine, Liberty A League, Damallsvenskan etc. fanfictions and news where I find it. Deleted Last Blog. No, I don't write for_____. Jk, request whatever, I'm pretty chill.
#idk what this means or if i do this but ig i'll just hold my phone with my pinky stuck out from now on??
Good question, also no that won’t help.
shitty MS Paint 3 minutes doodle, nto entirely accurate: When you have your pinky hooked on the “bottom” edge of the phone for the extra security so it doesn’t slide out of your hand that easily, you’re wreaking damage on your hand, since the pinky is extremely askew from it’s resting position. You might have noticed that when you hold your phone like that for long time it begins to hurt, like when you are gripping a pen too tightly for example.
Green lines - the fingers are going their natural way. Red line - the pinky is way off, that’s bad.
You never planned on going out to see the night, not the club, not the music, not the eyes that found you across the room, but when you meet Alexia, the spark is instant and impossible to ignore.
word count: 14.3k
Sorry it's so long, got carried away
Warning: Smut
You don’t plan on going out tonight, but your friends drag you to that club anyway, the one pulsing with bass and colour, where every light feels alive. The air hums with energy, sweat, perfume, laughter. You push through the crowd, half annoyed, half curious, trying to find a rhythm that feels like yours.
The music is heavy tonight a thick bass, flashing lights, a crowd that moves like it’s breathing together. You’re not really dancing, just existing somewhere in the middle of it, half lost in the rhythm, half in your own head.
Across the club near the edge of the dance floor, framed by the soft pulse of golden light, a woman stands out without even trying. You don’t recognise her right away not from the posters or the interviews, but from the way the room seems to shift around her. A casual confidence radiating off her like heat, the kind of confidence that doesn’t ask for attention but pulls it anyway.
You don’t know what hits you first the sharp pull of recognition, or the quiet, dangerous spark that hums through you the second your eyes meet hers even as brief as it was. It’s magnetic, wordless, like gravity decided to choose favourites.
She’s dressed in something that makes you forget the noise for a moment. A deep brown outfit that catches the light every time she moves, hugging her in a way that feels both elegant and effortless. The open back of the dress reveals the delicate ink traced over her back lines and images you can’t quite make out from here, but you want to. You want to trace them with your eyes, your fingers, your breath.
She turns slightly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and your chest tightens. The tattoos shift with her movement, alive against her skin. You don’t know what they mean, but somehow you feel like you should.
Someone bumps your shoulder, but you barely notice. Your focus is caught, held on her. She’s laughing at something someone said, and the sound doesn’t reach you, but it doesn’t matter. You can tell it’s warm.
Then she looks up, right at you and for a second, the whole club slows down lights flickering softer, sound folding in on itself. The distance between you doesn’t feel that far anymore.
Her gaze lingers curious, assessing, maybe a little amused. There’s something about the way she looks at you that feels like she’s already decided you’ll come over. You just haven’t realised it yet. It’s electric, not the cliché kind of first eye contact people talk about, but something sharper
Your drink feels heavier in your hand. You swallow, look away but you can still feel her eyes on you, a quiet burn against your skin. When you look back, she’s still there, one corner of her mouth curving up like a secret meant only for you. The spark, the pull, the moment that decides the rest of the night before either of you have.
You’re still holding her gaze when your friend nudges you, hard enough to jolt you out of it. “Okay,” they say, shouting over the music, “who’s that?”
You blink, feigning confusion, but it’s useless your expression’s already given you away.
“No one,” you lie, taking a sip of your drink that doesn’t help your pulse calm down.
“Yeah, sure,” your friend laughs. “No one makes you look like that.”
You glance back, trying to be subtle about it, but there she is again still at the far end of the room, still lingering at the edge of the dance floor, half in the shadows, half bathed in that amber light that feels like it exists only for her.
“She’s looking at you,” another friend says, voice rising with excitement. “Oh my god, she’s totally checking you out!”
You don’t want to admit it, but yeah she is. The eye contact holds again, there’s something unspoken in it a question, maybe, or an invitation that doesn’t need words.
Your friends follow your line of sight, whispering, giggling, making it impossible to pretend anymore.
“She’s gorgeous,” one of them says, awe mixing with disbelief. “You’re not seriously going to just stand here, right?”
You shrug, trying to play it cool, but your heart betrays you beating too fast, too hard. You catch another glimpse of her turning slightly, and the movement draws your attention down her back again the soft light gliding over the ink that curves along her skin. The tattoos look like a story written for anyone patient enough to read them.
Your friend leans in. “You should go say something.”
You shake your head, tearing your eyes away. “She’s not the type you just say something to.”
“She’s looking at you like she’s waiting,” they say.
Maybe they’re right, because even through the noise and the flashing lights, Alexia’s gaze hasn’t wavered. She’s still watching you not demanding, not challenging, just quietly there.
One of your friends grabs your hand suddenly, fingers curling around yours with too much enthusiasm to argue. “Come on,” they shout over the music, tugging you toward the other side of the room. “We’re going to the bar.”
You try to sound casual, like you don’t already know exactly where that leads. “We could’ve gone the other way,” you mutter, but your friend just grins. “You’re not subtle, you know that, right?” you add.
She laughs, bright, teasing and doesn’t even bother pretending otherwise. “Neither are you.”
You don’t argue, because she’s right. The crowd parts around you, bodies brushing past, flashes of colour and perfume. You can feel your pulse in your fingertips where she’s still holding your hand. Your friend Eva lead you right by her, purposefully taking the long way around to the bar.
When you finally stop, Eva leans on the bar and looks towards her for you, smirks as she turns back to the bar, "She totally watched you the whole way" Eva side eyed you as you leant beside her on the bar, "Her and her friends are talking about you"
It takes everything in you to not turn around, you realise, with a rush that’s almost dizzying that you’re standing not all that far from her now. Maybe a few feet, maybe less. "How do you know?"
Eva turns her head to look at you but her eyes continue travelling, "They're chattering and at least three of them keep looking at you.." She’s with a small group of friends, laughter floating between them, low and easy. You tell yourself you won’t look, that you’ll just order your drink and pretend you haven’t noticed, but then you finally do look, of course you do and she’s already halfway turned toward you.
The lighting catches her just right again, warm glow on her shoulders, the sleek fall of her dress. She’s talking to someone, nodding, but her eyes flick in your direction for the briefest second.
"See" Eva's voice cuts through making you turn back to the bar.
"I need a drink!"
Eva drums on the bar, "Yeah" she grins, "That's my girl!" Eva lifts her chin as the bartender appears in front of you, "Three bottles of Rosè and 5 shots please mr bar man, we need some dutch courage over here" You look down at the bar to hide your grin, but you can feel the heat creeping up your neck anyway.
Your friend leans close, voice half-drowned by the music. “See? Not so bad being out tonight, huh?”
You roll your eyes, but you don’t answer, because from where you’re standing, you can hear her laugh, low, soft, and devastating and you think, no, it’s not bad at all.
You’re halfway through your shot when you feel it again that awareness prickling at the back of your neck, the sense of being watched, not in a bad way, just noticed.
Eva is laughing with the bartender, sliding bottles across the counter, but you can’t help it, your eyes lift before you even decide to look.
She’s there, closer than before now, weaving through the crowd toward the bar, her friends following a few steps behind. She moves like the room parts for her, calm, deliberate, magnetic.
You look away, instantly, pretending to be very interested in the label on the bottle in front of you. It’s no use, Eva catches the movement and grins like she’s been waiting for it. “Oh, you’re so gone,” she shouts over the music.
“I’m not,” you lie.
“You are,” she says, bumping your shoulder. “She’s coming over here.”
You don’t believe her until you catch motion in the corner of your eye, the crowd shifting, a familiar silhouette stopping just a few feet away.
Alexia orders something, her voice low but clear even under the bass. The bartender nods, reaches for bottles. She’s facing forward, but her gaze slides sideways, a quick glance that catches you mid breath.
There’s that same small curve at her mouth not quite a smile, not quite a dare, just acknowledgment.
Eva leans in close. “Told you.”
“Don’t,” you murmur, but she’s already turning away, chatting with someone down the bar, leaving you alone in the glow of neon and noise.
Alexia shifts a little, turning just enough that her shoulder nearly brushes yours. You smell her perfume, clean and warm, threaded with something darker. The tiny hairs at the back of your neck stand up.
“Crowded tonight,” she says, half turning toward you, voice even.
You manage a nod, swallow the sudden dryness in your throat. “Guess everyone had the same bad idea.”
That earns you a quiet laugh soft, genuine, the sound of someone enjoying the way you speak more than the words themselves. “Maybe not everyone,” she says. “Some of us had good luck.”
You risk meeting her eyes then, and the connection lands exactly the way you feared it would instant, as if the two of you have already been talking all night.
Eva reappears long enough to shove one of the bottles toward you. “I’ll be right over there,” she says, smirking, and disappears again.
Alexia lifts her glass slightly. “Your friend’s not subtle.”
You grin, a little breathless. “Yeah, she gets that a lot.”
“Good for me, though,” Alexia says, that teasing glint returning. “Makes this easier.”
The conversation pauses there not because either of you runs out of words, but because the silence between you suddenly feels louder than the music. Her fingers rest lightly on the counter beside yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off her skin. She doesn’t move closer, not yet, she just lets the nearness settle, testing the space, testing you.
She keeps her hand resting near yours on the bar, fingers brushing the edge of the counter, her attention fixed somewhere between your face and your glass. When she finally speaks again, her voice is low, smooth but edged with amusement.
“I should probably introduce myself,” she says.
You smile, trying not to sound too knowing. “You probably should.”
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing slightly in mock offense. “You mean you don’t already know?”
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I have my suspicions.”
“Alexia,” she says then simple, no flourish, just the name and something about the way she says it makes it sound heavier than it should. Maybe it’s the way she meets your gaze as she does, steady and sure, like she’s handing you something she doesn’t give out easily.
You repeat it back, tasting it quietly. “Alexia.”
Her lips curve, barely. “And you are?”
You tell her your name, and it feels strange how right it sounds in this moment, like it belongs here, in the air between you.
She repeats it, softly, “Nice to meet you,” she says.
“Likewise.”
The word hangs there, simple, but charged and for a heartbeat you both just stand in it. Her gaze flicks down, briefly, to where your fingers rest near hers on the bar. Then back up again. “So,” she says, voice lighter now, “I've not done this in a while" she shocks you with her honesty, "Am I doing this right?”
You grin. “You’re doing alright so far.”
“Only alright?” she teases. “That’s not very encouraging.”
“I’m a tough critic.”
She laughs, that low, melodic sound that’s somehow both warm and disarming. “Good,” she says. “I like a challenge.”
She leans just slightly closer then, not enough to crowd you, but enough that her shoulder brushes yours again. It’s barely contact, but the electricity of it makes your breath catch all the same.
“Maybe,” she adds, her tone dipping softer now, “you’ll tell me more once we’ve had a drink together.”
You nod, unable to help the small smile that creeps across your face. “Maybe I will.”
She catches it, returns it, that same slow, knowing look she’s had all night. “Then it’s settled.”, she signals the bartender again, the dim amber light painting her skin gold as she moves. The moment feels effortless, but everything about it hums with intention, every word, every glance, every brush of her hand against yours like punctuation to a sentence.
The bartender drops off two fresh drinks and moves on, swallowed by the rhythm of orders and flashing lights. You both reach for your glasses at the same time, your fingers nearly brushing again.
“Careful,” she says, eyes flicking to the space between your hands. “People might think we’re fighting over it.”
You smile. “Or that you’re trying to steal mine.”
“Wouldn’t need to try,” she says easily, lifting her glass with a grin. You can’t help laughing, and she watches you again the way she did before like she’s cataloguing small reactions for later. “So,” she says, “tell me something about you that’s not obvious.”
You lean on the bar, mirroring her posture. “What counts as obvious?”
“That you didn’t want to come out tonight,” she says immediately. “And that you’re still thinking about leaving even though you won’t.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Pretty confident guess.”
She shrugs, a smile tugging at her mouth. “It’s the way you stand. Like you’re always halfway to the door.”
You tilt your head, amused. “And what about you? You don’t exactly look like someone who gets dragged out by friends.”
Her laugh is soft, low. “Sometimes I do. Tonight was supposed to be one of those nights. But then” She pauses, eyes meeting yours again, “I found something good to look at.”
You roll your eyes, but it’s useless your smile betrays you. “Do you always talk like that?”
“No”
You shake your head, still grinning. “Well you wouldn't think it, you're very confident”
“Not usually,” she says, taking a sip. “But I’m told it’s part of the charm.”
There’s a pause then, a lull where the noise of the club swells around you again. The lights shift from gold to deep violet, shadows moving across her face, and she looks almost different under it, softer, less like the person everyone else in the room recognises.
You break the silence first. “So if you weren’t a footballer, what would you be doing right now?”
Her brows lift slightly, surprised. “You do know who I am, then.”
You laugh, caught. “I said I had suspicions.”
She tilts her head, pretending to think. “If I weren’t doing this? Probably something quieter. Something in business maybe, or painting.”
“Painting?” you echo, curious. “You paint?”
“Sometimes,” she admits. “Mostly when I’m trying to not think about anything, or when I need to.”
“That’s a good reason.”
She nods, eyes bright. “And you? What’s your thing?”
You think about it, the way her attention makes you want to give an honest answer. “Music,” you say finally. “Not playing instruments like listening. Loud. The kind that fills the room.”
Her smile widens a little. “Guess this place fits, then.”
“Maybe,” you say, watching her. “It’s missing something, though.”
“Oh?” she asks, leaning in again. “What’s it missing?”
You look at her for a moment, heartbeat steady but louder than the music, and say, “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
She laughs quietly, shaking her head. “You’re better at this than you pretend.”
“I doubt that.”
“You shouldn’t.”
For a while, the two of you keep talking nothing too serious, just light, easy conversation that slips between laughter and quiet curiosity. But then a sound from across the room catches your attention someone calling her name, one of her friends waving her over from a booth near the back.
She glances toward them, then back at you, an almost reluctant smile tugging at her lips.
You follow her gaze, noticing the way her friends are watching not subtle in the slightest, trying and failing to look casual as they gesture for her to come back.
You clear your throat, setting your glass down gently on the counter. “I should probably let you get back to them,” you say. “Before they start a rescue mission.”
Alexia’s mouth curves, amused. “And leave you here alone?”
“I have friends too you know,” you say, with a little smile on her lips
She studies you for a moment, really looks, and there’s that flicker in her expression again, the one that makes it feel like she’s deciding something. “Shame, I would have asked you to join us,” she says finally, “but I’m also not sure I want to let you go that easily.”
You smile, heart doing that familiar, unsteady skip. “We’ll have to see what fate has in store, then.”
Her grin deepens at that, slow and warm. “Fate?” she repeats. “I like that, sounds promising.” You glance past her toward the group waiting for her. They’re all still watching, one of them whispering something that makes the others laugh. The scene is almost comical, a table full of people pretending not to be invested while being completely invested.
When you look back at her, she’s still watching you. There’s no pressure in it, just quiet acknowledgment. “Go,” you say softly, nodding toward her friends. “Before they start drawing straws.”
She laughs, and the sound settles somewhere low in your chest. “Alright,” she says. “But if fate’s listening”
“it knows where to find me,” you finish for her.
That earns you one last glance, one that feels like a promise. Then she turns, threading her way back through the crowd, her friends immediately leaning in to ask questions the second she reaches them. You don’t need to hear what they’re saying, their smiles say enough.
You stand there for a moment, letting your breath catch up with you, before Eva’s voice cuts through the noise from behind.
“Well?” she calls, waving a bottle of rosé like a victory flag as she comes to meet you. “You coming to sit down or just going to stare all night?”
You shake your head, smiling despite yourself, and head toward the table your friends have claimed, as you glance back one last time, you catch her looking again for just a second, but enough.
🥂
You slide into the booth beside Eva, still feeling the echo of that last glance. The table is cluttered already bottles, glasses, half-melted ice, someone’s phone flashing under the lights. It takes approximately five seconds before the interrogation begins. Eva leans across the table, eyes wide and shining. “Okay,” she says over the music, “what was that?”
You blink, pretending not to know what she means. “What was what?”
“The thing at the bar,” another friend jumps in, leaning forward eagerly. “You and her.”
You take a long sip of rosé, hoping it’ll buy you time. “It was nothing.”
Eva laughs loud enough to turn heads. “Nothing? You’re kidding, right? Because from where I was, it looked like the opposite of nothing.”
You stare at the bubbles in your glass, unable to stop the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “We talked.”
“Talked,” Eva repeats, drawing the word out like she’s trying to taste it. “Right. Sure and then she looked at you like you hung the moon. Who even does that?”
“She didn’t” you start, but your voice falters under their combined grins. “Did she?”
“She did!” someone echoes, laughing. “She walked away and kept turning around! Like she was checking you were real!”
You shake your head, half embarrassed, half buzzing from it all. “You’re exaggerating.”
Eva leans back, crossing her arms smugly. “I don’t need to exaggerate when the chemistry’s doing all the work for me.” That earns a round of laughter from the table, and you hide your face behind your glass. “Seriously though,” Eva says, her tone softening just a fraction, “what did you two even talk about?”
You open your mouth, but no words come. What did you talk about? A little bit of everything and nothing at all, glances that said more than the words did. “I… don’t know,” you admit. “It was just… easy.”
They all exchange looks the kind of knowing, delighted ones that make you both want to laugh and crawl under the table at the same time. Eva bumps your shoulder gently. “You’ve got it bad already.”
You snort. “I talked to her for, like, ten minutes.”
“Exactly,” she says, grinning. “And look at you.”
You try to argue, but instead your friends look past you. She’s there, sitting with her group, laughing, relaxed but then, like she can feel it, her eyes lift and to find yours again, but instead you weren't looking this time.
The look isn’t long just a few seconds across a sea of strangers but it’s enough to send to send your friends crazy. You sip your drink, ignoring the collective gasp from your friends, “Oh my god,” Eva says, delighted. “She looked again!”
“She did not,” you protest weakly.
“She did,” Eva says firmly, taking a sip of her drink. “And honestly, if you don’t do something about it, I will.”
You groan, leaning back in your seat, fighting a losing battle with the smile tugging at your lips. “I hate you.”
“I love you too,” she says, but even as your friends start another round of teasing, your thoughts keep drifting back to the her, to that soft smile, to the warmth that hasn’t left your skin yet, you wonder if fate’s still paying attention.
🥂
You finally slip out of the booth after another round of teasing, your cheeks aching from smiling, Eva waves you off with a knowing grin. “Don’t get lost,” she says.
The air thickens the moment you leave the table the crowd pressing in again, lights strobing red and gold. You weave through it, half on autopilot, your mind still replaying the conversation at the bar.
You turn the corner toward the corridor that leads to the bathrooms, grateful for the relative quiet back here. The bass dulls to a muffled heartbeat against the walls.
Then you see her, Alexia steps out from the women’s restroom just as you’re heading toward it. She’s alone, smoothing the skirt she wore, head slightly bowed and for a moment, she doesn’t notice you. The corridor light is softer here, warm amber instead of flashing neon and it falls over her skin in a way that makes everything else blur. You catch a glimpse of the tattoo on her arms as she moves, subtle lines shifting with the motion of her shoulders.
Then her eyes lift and there it is again that quiet, magnetic spark. You stop instinctively, caught mid step, a smile tugging at your mouth before you even mean it to. “Hi,” you manage.
She laughs low, warm, a little surprised. “We really need to stop meeting like this.”
You grin. “You mean by accident?”
Her head tilts, the corner of her mouth curling. “Is it an accident?”
You shrug, pretending to think. “Maybe fate’s getting impatient.”
“Maybe,” she says, voice soft but teasing, “it’s just persistent.”
You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “You make that sound like a compliment.”
“Who says it isn’t?” she replies easily. For a moment, neither of you move, the music is only a dull echo from here just the faint pulse of bass, the hum of voices from the main room. It feels almost private, she shifts slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did I interrupt you?”
“Yes,” you say, nodding toward the door behind her, “you caught me mid mission.”
Her eyes flick toward the restroom door, then back to you. “Ah,” she says, feigning solemn understanding. “A mission that can’t wait.”
“Unfortunately, no.”
She smiles again, smaller this time, but somehow more real. “Then I’ll let fate do its thing.”
You laugh softly. “And what’s that?”
“Bring us back together again,” she says, with that steady calm that makes it sound less like a hope and more like a promise.
You take a small step past her, pulse quickening as your shoulders almost brush. “We’ll have to see what fate has in store, then.”
“Guess we will.”
You look back once before pushing open the bathroom door. She’s still there, watching you with that same quiet, amused warmth and you can’t help thinking that maybe fate really is impatient.
When you push the bathroom door open again, the hum of music folds back around you, brighter now after the quiet inside. You half expect her to be gone, but she isn’t.
Alexia is still there, leaning against the wall opposite, arms loosely crossed, looking like she’s been waiting without really meaning to. Her phone is in her hand, but she’s not looking at it, her eyes lift the second you step out. “You survived,” she says, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“Barely,” you answer, shaking your hands dry in mock exhaustion. “Crowds, queues… it’s chaos in there.”
“Fate's test,” she says lightly. “You passed.”
You laugh, moving closer to where she’s standing. “Do I get a prize for that?”
“Depends,” she says, tilting her head. “What do you want?”
You pause, meeting her eyes. The way she’s looking at you makes it hard to think of an answer that doesn’t sound like a dare. “Surprise me.”
She chuckles quietly, the sound low and genuine. “Dangerous thing to say to someone you just met.”
“I’m starting to think danger’s part of your charm.”
“Only part?”
You raise an eyebrow. “You’re confident.”
She shrugs, playful. “Not confidence, curiosity. I like seeing how people respond.”
“Testing me now?”
“Maybe.” She uncrosses her arms, her tone still light but her gaze steady. “You seem like you’d pass.”
You feel your smile widen despite yourself. “You don’t even know what the test is.”
“That’s what makes it interesting.”
The space between you has narrowed without either of you noticing. The light in the hallway catches on the faint glimmer of a chain at her collarbone, her perfume drifts toward you again, something that makes it hard to remember how long you’ve been standing there.
She nods toward the main room. “Want to walk back together?”
“Sure,” you say, and she falls into step beside you.
You move through the short corridor, shoulder to shoulder, the murmur of the crowd getting louder with each step. She glances sideways once, and her smile is small but unmistakably flirty. “I have to admit,” she says, “you make fate’s job pretty easy.”
You laugh softly. “You really like that word, don’t you?”
“It’s growing on me,” she replies. “Kind of like this conversation.”
You can’t help it when you laugh again, lighter this time. When you reach the edge of the crowd, she pauses just long enough to look back at you.
“Glad I stayed,” she says simply.
🥂
You find yourself back at the bar, waiting to be served. The crowd’s thinned a little now, the music softer, more rhythm than melody. You rest your elbows against the counter, half watching the bottles line the back wall, half letting your thoughts drift.
Then you feel it that flicker of awareness, that quiet shift in the air, “I see fate has brought us together again.” Her voice slides in before you even turn, familiar now, amused, laced with something that sounds dangerously close to confidence.
You glance sideways and there she is, leaning against the bar beside you, one shoulder turned toward you, her friends gathered just behind her in a loose half circle. The amber light hits her outfit, the light draws your attention to the slither of her stomach on show, and you have to force yourself not to stare too obviously.
“Fate,” you repeat, lips curving as you look at her, then at the small cluster of people watching with barely contained grins. “Or are you just engineering these innocent meetings?”
Alexia giggles a quiet, genuine sound that cuts straight through the music. It’s lighter than you expected, and somehow it makes the entire room feel warmer. “Maybe a bit of both,” she says, leaning in just slightly. “Do a shot with us?”
You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t do shots.”
“Lies,” she says immediately, the word playful but certain.
You can’t help but laugh. “Oh yeah?”
“I saw you do one before,” she says, eyes glinting.
“Spying on me?” you tease.
“Observing,” she corrects smoothly, “learning.” Then, with a grin, “Sambuca, right?” Before you can answer, the bartender appears. She doesn’t miss a beat. “Six sambucas, please.”
You watch as he lines up six shot glasses in a neat row, the clear liquid catching the light as he pours. One for her. Four for her friends. One for you.
Her friends are already cheering, laughing, crowding closer, but Alexia stays angled toward you, eyes bright with mischief. “Don’t tell me fate brought us together just for you to back out now.”
You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “You really don’t let up, do you?”
“Not when I know what I want.” The bartender slides the shots across the bar, the smell of anise sharp and sweet in the air. Alexia picks hers up first, holding it between her fingers like a challenge. “Come on,” she says softly, eyes never leaving yours. “One with me. For fate.”
The six glasses gleam under the bar lights, her friends each take one, chatting and laughing, the edges of their words blurring with the music as Alexia waits. You meet her eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re very persuasive, you know that?”
She tilts her head, pretending to think. “I prefer convincing.”
“Big difference,” you say.
“There is,” she replies. “Convincing means you secretly wanted to say yes anyway.”
That earns her a quiet laugh. “You’re dangerous with logic like that.”
“Only when it works,” she says, raising her glass. “Ready?”
You nod, matching her movement, her friends count down, three, two, one and the group slams their shots back. The sambuca burns, sweet and sharp, warmth blooming through your chest.
Alexia sets her glass down first, smooth as always, and wipes her lower lip with her thumb. She’s watching you when you open your eyes again. “See?” she says, smiling. “Fate tastes better than you thought.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“No chance,” she says easily. “I’m right. You just proved it.”
“How?”
“You didn’t hate it.”
You rest your hand lightly on the counter, meeting her gaze. “That’s debatable.”
She leans in a little, her voice dipping beneath the noise. “Debate it with me later, then.”
Her friends cheer again, loud and oblivious, pulling another round toward them, someone calls her name, but she doesn’t look away from you. You smirk. “You’ve got a whole crowd waiting.”
“They’ll survive,” she says, and her grin widens.
The bartender clears the empty glasses, and for a heartbeat there’s quiet between you just the hum of the music, the smell of citrus and sugar, the warmth from the drink still lingering in your throat. “You were right about one thing,” you say finally.
“Oh?” she asks, a flicker of curiosity in her expression.
“I probably did want to say yes.”
That makes her laugh again that same low, easy sound that makes you want to keep finding ways to hear it. “Good,” she says softly.
She taps the bar once with her fingertips, a subtle goodbye, then turns back toward her friends, who are already calling her over for the next dance, as she walks away, she glances back once over her shoulder, smile still lingering.
You turn back to the bar, trying to focus on ordering another drink, but the warmth in your chest has nothing to do with the sambuca anymore. Eva appears beside you almost instantly, materializing like she's been waiting in the wings.
"Shots with her friends?" she says, eyebrows raised so high they might leave her face entirely. "You're in deep now."
"It was just a shot," you say, but even you don't believe it.
"Right," Eva laughs. "And I'm the Queen of England."
You roll your eyes, but before you can respond, the music shifts something slower, heavier, the kind of beat that makes the whole room sway as one. Eva grabs your hand. "Come on," she says, pulling you toward the dance floor. "You've spent enough time at the bar for one night."
The crowd swallows you both, bodies moving in waves of colour and shadow. You let yourself get lost in it for a while, the rhythm taking over, Eva spinning beside you with her arms in the air. It feels good, freeing, like you can finally breathe without thinking.
Then you feel it again.
That pull.
You turn, almost instinctively, and there she is. Alexia's on the dance floor too, not far from you, surrounded by her friends but somehow separate from them. She moves with an easy confidence, hips swaying to the beat, head tilted back slightly, eyes closed. The lights catch on her skin, tracing the curves of her shoulders, the dip of her spine.
Then her eyes open.
And find yours immediately.
It's like the entire club narrows to just this, just the space between you. She doesn't stop dancing, doesn't look away, just holds your gaze as she moves. There's a challenge in it, or maybe an invitation, you can't tell which and maybe it doesn't matter.
Eva notices where you're looking and laughs, pushing you gently forward. "Go," she shouts over the music.
"I—"
"Go!"
Your feet move before your brain catches up, closing the distance between you. Alexia's smile widens as you approach, slow and knowing, like she's been waiting for this all night.
"Took you long enough," she says when you're close enough to hear.
"Was I supposed to be keeping track?" you reply.
"I was."
She reaches out then, fingers brushing your wrist, light enough to be almost nothing but enough to send electricity racing up your arm. "Dance with me," she says, and it's not really a question.
You nod, unable to find words that wouldn't sound ridiculous, and she pulls you closer, into the rhythm, into her orbit. Her hand settles at your waist, warm through the fabric of your shirt, and suddenly you're moving together, bodies finding a rhythm that feels older than the music itself.
She leans in close, lips near your ear so you can hear her over the bass. "Still think fate's just a word?"
You laugh, breathless. "I'm starting to reconsider."
Her fingers press a little firmer against your waist, and you can feel her smile against your temple. "Good," she murmurs. "Because I don't think it's done with us yet."
The song bleeds into another, and then another, and you lose track of time, of everything except the heat of her skin, the way she fits against you like she was meant to be there. Her friends have drifted away, or maybe yours have, you're not sure. All you know is that it's just the two of you now, swaying in a sea of strangers who might as well not exist.
Eventually, she pulls back just enough to look at you, her face flushed from the heat, strands of hair clinging to her forehead. "You want to get some air?" she asks.
You nod, and she takes your hand properly this time, fingers threading through yours as she leads you off the dance floor, through the crowd, toward the exit.
The night air hits you like a shock, cool and clean after the humidity inside. You're in a small courtyard behind the club, fairy lights strung overhead, a few people scattered on benches, smoking and talking in low voices.
Alexia doesn't let go of your hand. She leads you to a quieter corner, away from the others, where the music is just a distant thump and you can finally hear yourself think.
"Better?" she asks, turning to face you.
"Yeah," you say, still catching your breath. "Much better."
She's still close, closer than strictly necessary, and in the softer light out here you can see her more clearly, the details you couldn't catch inside. The faint freckles across her nose. The way her eyes catch the glow from the string lights above. The small, satisfied smile playing at her lips.
"So," she says, voice quieter now, more intimate. "Tell me something real."
"Real?"
"Something you wouldn't say to just anyone."
You think about it, heart still racing. "I almost didn't come tonight," you admit. "I was going to stay home."
"I'm glad you didn't," she says softly.
"Me too."
She steps closer, if that's even possible, her free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face. The touch lingers, fingertips trailing along your jaw. "Can I tell you something?" she asks.
"Yeah."
"I saw you the moment you walked in," she says. "Before you saw me. And I knew."
"Knew what?"
"That I wanted to know you." Her thumb traces a slow line across your cheek. "That I wasn't leaving here tonight without talking to you."
Your breath catches. "Pretty confident assumption."
"Not confidence," she says, echoing her words from earlier. "Just hope."
The space between you has disappeared entirely now. You can feel her breath, warm against your lips, can see the way her eyes flick down to your mouth and back up again.
"Alexia," you whisper.
"Yeah?"
"Are you going to kiss me, or do I have to wait for fate to figure that out too?"
She laughs, soft and low, and then she does.
Her lips are soft, tasting faintly of sambuca and something sweeter, and the world tilts on its axis. Her hand slides into your hair, pulling you closer, and you melt into her, into the warmth and certainty of this moment you didn't know you were waiting for.
When she finally pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard. "Still think fate's impatient?" she murmurs.
You smile, eyes still closed. "I think fate knew exactly what it was doing."
"Good answer," she whispers, and kisses you again.
The second kiss is slower, deeper, her fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like she's anchoring herself to you. When she pulls away this time, she doesn't go far, her lips hovering just inches from yours, breath mingling in the cool night air.
"I don't want this night to end," she says quietly, and there's something vulnerable in her voice now, something that cuts through all the confidence and teasing from before.
You brush your thumb along her jawline. "It doesn't have to."
She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, searching for something. "I know we just met," she starts, and then pauses, laughing softly at herself. "God, I sound like I'm in a movie."
"What were you going to say?"
She takes a breath, and you can see her gathering courage, the same woman who's been so sure of herself all night suddenly uncertain. "Come home with me," she says finally. "Or let me come home with you. I don't care which. I just. I don't want to say goodnight yet."
Your heart does something complicated in your chest. "Alexia..."
"Too fast?" she asks, starting to pull away, but you catch her hand.
"No," you say quickly. "Not too fast. Just, are you sure?"
She laughs, that same low sound that's been undoing you all night. "I've been sure since the moment you walked into that club," she says. "I'm just finally saying it out loud."
You look at her there, haloed in fairy lights, lips still swollen from kissing you, eyes bright with want and hope and something that feels bigger than one night, and you realise there's only one answer you want to give.
"My place isn't far," you hear yourself say. "Walking distance."
Her smile breaks open like sunrise. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She kisses you again, quick and certain, then threads her fingers through yours. "Then let's go before I change my mind about being this brave."
"You're not going to change your mind," you say.
"How do you know?"
"Because fate's not done with us yet," you tell her, throwing her own words back at her, and the laugh she gives you is worth everything.
She tugs you toward the courtyard exit, but pauses at the edge. "I should probably tell my friends I'm leaving."
"Probably," you agree.
"They're going to be insufferable about this."
You grin. "So are mine."
She pulls out her phone, typing quickly, and within seconds it buzzes with what you can only assume are a flood of excited messages based on the way she rolls her eyes. "Okay," she says, pocketing it. "Done. Your turn."
You text Eva a single message: Leaving. Don't wait up.
The response is instant: FINALLY. Use protection. I want details tomorrow. Not TOO many details. Actually yes all the details.
You show Alexia the message and she laughs, shaking her head. "I like your friends."
"They're terrible," you say fondly.
"So are mine," she replies, squeezing your hand. "Come on. Before they start calling."
You lead her through the courtyard, past the smokers and the couples having quiet conversations, back onto the street where the city hums with late-night energy. The air is cooler now, autumn settling into the evening, and Alexia shivers slightly.
Without thinking, you slip off your jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
She looks at you, something soft crossing her face. "Thank you."
"Can't have you freezing before we get there."
"My hero," she teases, but her voice is warm.
You walk together through lamp-lit streets, her hand in yours, and it feels easy, natural, like you've been doing this for years instead of hours. She asks you questions about the neighborhood, about your favorite places, and you point out the cafe where you get coffee, the bookshop you disappear into on rainy afternoons.
"I want to see them all," she says. "In daylight."
"Is that your way of saying you're staying for breakfast?"
She bumps your shoulder with hers. "Maybe. If you're cooking."
"I make terrible breakfast."
"I don't believe you."
"You should," you say. "I burn toast."
"Then I'll cook," she says easily, and the casual domesticity of it, the assumption of a tomorrow, makes something in your chest tighten with want.
You stop outside your building, suddenly nervous. "This is me."
Alexia looks up at the facade, then back at you, and her smile is gentle. "Having second thoughts?"
"No," you say immediately. "Are you?"
"Not even close." She steps into your space, hands finding your waist. "But if you want to just talk, or if you want me to go, that's okay too. I meant what I said, I just didn't want the night to end. Whatever that looks like."
You lean in and kiss her, soft and sure. "I want you to come upstairs."
"Okay," she whispers against your mouth. "Then let's go."
🥂
You lead her through the lobby, past the sleeping doorman, to the lifts. The building is quiet at this hour, just the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of someone's TV playing through thin walls.
The lift doors slide open with a soft chime, and you step inside together. She's still wearing your jacket, still holding your hand, and when the doors close, the space feels suddenly smaller, more intimate.
Alexia leans against the wall, pulling you closer by the hem of your shirt. "How many floors?" she asks.
"Seven."
"That's a lot of time," she says, eyes bright with mischief.
"For what?"
Instead of answering, she kisses you, soft at first, then deeper, her hands sliding up to cup your face. You press into her, feeling the cool metal of the lift wall through your jacket on her shoulders, the warmth of her body against yours.
The lift chimes at the third floor, and you both pull back, breathless, laughing quietly as the doors open to an empty hallway and then close again.
"We're terrible at this," you say.
"At what?" she asks, still close, her lips brushing yours as she speaks.
"Waiting."
She grins. "Maybe I don't want to wait."
The lift chimes again, fifth floor and she kisses you once more, quick and playful. By the time you reach seven, you're both smiling so hard it's difficult to kiss properly.
The doors open, and you lead her down the hallway, your keys jingling as you fumble with the lock. Your hands are shaking slightly, whether from nerves or anticipation you're not sure.
"Need help?" Alexia asks, amused.
"I've got it," you say, finally getting the door open.
You flip on the lights, suddenly hyperaware of everything, the jacket you left on the couch this morning, the stack of books on the coffee table, the half empty mug you forgot to put in the sink. "Sorry," you say. "I wasn't exactly expecting company."
She steps inside, looking around with genuine curiosity, taking in the space like she's learning something about you from it. "It's nice," she says. "It feels like you."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Very good," she says, turning to face you with a smile.
You close the door behind you, the sound of the lock clicking into place somehow final, significant. "Can I get you something to drink?" you ask. "Water, tea, I think I have wine somewhere..."
"Water's good," she says, shrugging off your jacket and draping it over the back of a chair.
You move to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet, filling them from the filter in the fridge. Your hands are steadier now, the familiar ritual calming your nerves. When you turn back, Alexia's wandering slowly through your living room, looking at the framed photos on the shelf, the plants by the window, the records stacked beside the turntable.
"You really do like music," she says, running her fingers along the spines of the vinyl.
"Told you," you say, handing her a glass.
She takes it, your fingers brushing, and for a moment you both just stand there, drinking, the silence comfortable now that you're away from the noise of the club.
"Sit with me?" she asks, nodding toward the couch. You follow her over, settling beside her, close but not quite touching. She tucks one leg under herself, angling toward you, and takes another sip of water. "So," she says. "Tell me something else. Something real."
You smile, remembering her asking the same thing in the courtyard. "What do you want to know?"
"Anything," she says. "Everything. What do you do when you're not being dragged to clubs by your friends?"
You think about it, about the quiet rhythms of your life that suddenly feel worth sharing. "I write music," you say. "It's not always glamorous, but I like it and I read a lot. Listen to music, obviously. Go for walks when the weather's nice."
"Sounds peaceful," she says.
"What about you?" you ask. "When you're not playing football or charming strangers in nightclubs?"
She laughs. "Is that what I'm doing? Charming you?"
"You know you are."
"Good," she says, looking pleased. "I paint sometimes, like I said and I spend a lot of time with my family when I can. My schedule's pretty intense, so the quiet moments matter."
"That must be hard," you say. "Always being on, always performing."
She nods, her expression growing more serious. "It is sometimes. Tonight was supposed to be one of those rare nights off, you know? Just be normal for a few hours." She pauses, looking down at her glass. "But then I saw you, and normal suddenly seemed overrated."
Your chest tightens at the honesty in her voice. "I'm glad you came over to the bar."
"I'm glad you didn't run away," she says, smiling again.
"I thought about it," you admit.
"Really?"
"You're kind of intimidating," you say. "Beautiful, confident, famous..."
"Stop," she says, but she's blushing now, actually blushing, and it makes her seem more human somehow, more real. "I'm just a person. I get nervous too."
"You didn't seem nervous."
"I was terrified," she says. "The whole time. I just hid it better."
You reach out, taking her free hand in yours. "You don't have to hide anything here."
She looks at you for a long moment, something shifting in her expression, walls coming down. "I know," she says quietly. "That's what scares me."
"What do you mean?"
She sets her glass down on the coffee table, then takes yours and sets it beside hers. When she turns back, she's closer, her knee pressing against your thigh. "I mean I don't usually do this," she says. "Go home with someone I just met."
"Why did you?" you ask softly.
"Because something about you feels different," she says. "Like maybe fate actually knows what it's doing for once.” You cup her face in your hand, thumb brushing across her cheekbone, she leans into your touch, eyes closing briefly. "Tell me I'm not crazy."
"You're not crazy."
"Promise?"
"I promise," you say, and then you're kissing her again, slow and deep, her hands in your hair, your heart racing against your ribs.
You sit like that for a while, talking in low voices about everything and nothing favourite films, worst travel experiences, the strange superstitions you both have. She tells you about growing up in Barcelona, about learning English from TV shows, about the time she accidentally dyed her hair green before a big match.
You tell her about your family, about the year you spent abroad, about your irrational fear of pigeons that makes her laugh so hard she has to wipe tears from her eyes.
The conversation flows easy and natural, punctuated by soft kisses and comfortable silences, and somewhere in the middle of it all, you realise that this, this talking, this knowing matters just as much as everything that led up to it and you both know is to come.
"What are you thinking?" she asks, catching you staring.
"That I'm really glad I didn't stay home tonight," you say.
She smiles, "Me too."
Alexia’s smile lingers, then fades into something softer, she studies you for a moment the kind of look that feels like she’s memorising everything she sees and then she leans in again. The kiss starts the same way as before, slow, careful, but this time it deepens by degrees, the kind of rhythm that builds on its own, all instinct and heartbeat.
Her hand finds the back of your neck, holding you there like she’s afraid the moment might slip away if she doesn’t. You breathe her in, faint perfume, the taste of water on her lips, the warmth of her skin where your fingers brush her jaw.
You shift closer without meaning to, knees touching, her breath catching as she tilts her head to meet you again. The world outside your flat blurs into silence, the only sound is the soft scrape of movement, the whisper of shared breath.
You let her pull you onto her lap, her hands never leaving your body, her fingers sliding up the back of your shirt. The first touch of her skin against yours is pure voltage, enough to make you gasp, enough to make her smile against your mouth. You tangle your hands in her hair, softer than you expected, and when she sucks in a sharp breath you feel it everywhere at once.
She lets you set the pace, but you can feel how badly she wants to move faster, how she’s reining herself in for your sake. You break the kiss long enough to look at her, to really see her, flushed, hair mussed, pupils blown wide. She’s more beautiful than she was an hour ago, more real, less perfect and somehow that makes it harder the only thing real is the press of her mouth against yours and the way her hands slide down to your hips, gentle but certain. She tugs at the edge of your shirt and you don’t think, just lift your arms so she can peel it away. Cool air grazes your skin and goosebumps rise, but not from cold. Alexia grins as she traces her fingers lightly over your bare stomach, leaving a heat trail in their wake.
You laugh, nervous, and she kisses you again, this time with a new kind of hunger, her hands exploring with shy confidence. Your own hands find her hips, the soft fabric of her skirt, the smooth skin at her waist where her top rides up. She breaks the kiss long enough to look you in the eye, pupils wide and dark, then she takes your hand and guides it under the hem of her shirt, higher and higher until you realise what she’s asking.
You hesitate for only a heartbeat, then you slide your palm up her ribs, under soft fabric, her skin was fever warm, softer than you expected in the crook of her spine, and you wanted, suddenly, to touch all of her, to memorise with your hands the lines the tattoos couldn’t explain. Her lips curled into a smile against your collarbone, and she pressed closer, as if she could slip under your skin and find a new home there.
Then she paused, just for a second, nose pressed to your throat, her breath ragged. “Is this okay?” she whispered. The question caught you off guard not from her asking, but from the weight of it, how it made you realise you wanted this more than you’d let yourself admit.
You nodded, not trusting your voice, and pressed your hand gently against her, fingers splaying, heart pounding so hard you felt it through your arm. Her own hands moved to your back, drawing little shapes down your spine, pulling you closer, until you could feel her heartbeat thumping against your chest like a signal, like a challenge.
You shifted your hips in her lap, slow at first, and relished the way she gasped, the way her grip tightened and her eyes fluttered shut for just a second. Her mouth found your collarbone, teeth grazing skin, lips hot and insistent. Her hands slid up your back, under the band of your bra, fingers splayed and urgent, leaving trails of fire across your skin. When she tugged gently, you understood, and reached behind to unhook the clasp, your hands were clumsy, shaking, but she steadied them, laughing a breathless, gentle sound that let you know there was no rush.
You shrugged your bra off, cheeks flushing with a sudden, bright vulnerability. Alexia paused, mouth parted. She touched your face with both hands, framing you, like you were art she was afraid to smudge. The weight of her attention was almost too much almost. You held her gaze, and she kissed you again, slower this time, a question and a promise all tangled up. When her palms closed around your chest, you gasped and the sound seemed to delight her and she responded in kind, hands all over now, up your arms, in your hair, down your back, mapping the territory she’d claimed the second she made you laugh at the bar.
The next moment came breathless, stitched in heat and want. She lifted you to your feet, stood you between her knees, and ran her palms up the outsides of your thighs, looking at you like she’d found something rare and precious on a beach and couldn’t quite believe her luck. “You are...” she started, laughed, shook her head. “Perfect,” she finished, voice soft and disbelieving.
You snorted, unable to help it, and she grinned for real and pulled you down into her again, all teeth and desire. Your hands slid along her arms, the cords of muscle and tendons shifting under skin, and it hit you that she was real not a story or a match highlight, but a person, with chipped nail polish and a scar on her knee and freckles on her shoulders and a shiver every time your lips found a new place to land. You reached for the hem of her shirt, and she let you pull it off, quick and impatient, and then her skin was against yours, soft and shocking and exactly what you didn’t know you needed.
It turned careful again, for a second, the two of you just breathing together, the hush so thick you could feel her heartbeat syncing to yours. Then she reached for your waistband, and hesitated, fingers curled in the fabric, looking up, all the bravado replaced by that raw hope you’d glimpsed on the street.
You pressed her hand into you, meaning yes, more than yes, and that was all she needed. She slid her fingers slow under the band of your jeans, hot against your skin, her thumb tracing little circles right above the bone. She was patient, her touch more question than demand, drawing out the anticipation with a patience that made you crazy and grateful at the same time. Her lips found the hollow at your throat, your shoulder, the spot just below your ear that made you shiver. You ran your hands over her back, learning each dip and rise, the muscles shifting under her skin. When she finally slipped her hand down, really down, you bit your lip to keep from crying out, she kissed you then, hard, like she wanted that sound in her mouth, wanted all of you in her mouth. You closed your eyes, let the feeling bloom, and tried to keep breathing. When she finally slipped her fingers all the way in, you let out a sound you’d never made before, something halfway between relief and disbelief, and she responded with a wicked little hum just below your ear. Her mouth mapped your neck, each kiss leaving a trail of heat, and her fingers moved with exquisite control, slow at first and then building, matching your breath until it felt like the only music left in the room.
It took everything in you to not whine when she pulled her hand from you but she steered you down onto the couch, palms pressing to your bare shoulders, until your back hit the cushions and her weight pinned you in place. The world tilted with her, you lost track of your shirt, your bra, the room, everything except the hands that belonged to her. Alexia knelt between your knees and spread them with a touch so steady it bordered on possessive, her eyes never leaving yours. She smiled crooked and hungry and leaned in to kiss you, her tongue catching your bottom lip, her breath hitching when your hands caught at her hips and tugged her closer.
The couch groaned under the shifting weight, springs squealing, but you barely registered the noise. All you could focus on was her, her scent, her skin, the way she seemed to multiply inside your head, filling up every empty space. Alexia bent down, mouth trailing along your throat, her hair tickling your chest, her hands sliding down your body with a clear purpose as she sucked on your neck you looked down just as she drove her fingers into you with a rhythm that was utterly ruthless, the way she moved you, made you feel like your whole self was pinned between her palm and the world. Your hips jerked, breath shallow, and she swallowed your noises greedily, her mouth chasing the pulse at your throat even as her hand worked harder, deeper, faster, the wet sounds of you obscene in the hush of your flat.
You gripped her shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into her skin, and she only responded by sliding her hand up behind your knee, hiking your leg over her hip to lever you open even more, to sprawl you out, raw, for her. You tried to pull her closer, but she shook her head, made you look at her, made you see the heat and the unguarded want in her eyes, the way she was drinking you in like she’d been dying of it for years, and it undid you. You said her name, not whispered, not gasped, just said it plain so she’d know you had no secrets left, not here, not like this.
But just when you thought you were on the edge of falling apart, Alexia slowed, her hand retreating from between your legs so suddenly that your hips bucked up, searching for the loss, desperate for the friction. The absence left you raw, panting, a little wild, so when she laughed, a low, delighted sound you wanted to hate her for it, but you couldn’t, not when her lips found your chest, warm and open mouthed, her tongue circling your nipple before she bit it, just enough to send a hot crackle up your spine. You reached for her wrist, tried to guide her hand back to where you needed her most, but she just batted your hand away, pinning it to the couch above your head. “Alexia,” you begged, surprised by the need in your own voice.
She only grinned, her eyes wicked with intent, and kissed the hollow between your breasts, her breath hot and damp. “Not yet,” she whispered, the words a command and a promise, before she kissed her way down your torso, lips soft against the hot skin now exposed. She lingered at your ribs, at the spot just beneath your breast, her palm splayed wide and warm, holding you in place. Then her mouth closed over your nipple again, and you nearly came undone. She was patient now, almost cruel in her slowness, her tongue lapping gentle circles as her teeth grazed the sensitive tip, her other hand stroking your side in soothing, lazy patterns, every touch designed to keep you trembling right at the edge.
You couldn’t take it anymore the ache of the want, the heat pooling in your gut, the way her mouth felt on your skin. You reached for her face, cupped her jaw, pulled her up to meet your eyes. You kissed her, hard, and she groaned into your mouth, her hands sliding up your sides to hold you tight against her. The need to be somewhere softer, somewhere with more space, hit you all at once. “Bed?” you whispered, your voice trembling, half question, half plea.
She answered with a kiss, messy and desperate, and a low, “Yes,” into your mouth.
You broke apart only long enough to take her hand and lead her down the hall, the two of you tripping over each other’s feet, unable and unwilling to stop touching, laughing breathless into each other’s necks. She pressed you against the hallway wall before you’d made it five steps, her thigh wedged between yours, her mouth finding your neck yet again, her hands everywhere at once. You fumbled for the door handle, missed, tried again, and this time it caught, swinging open with a low groan that matched the noise in your chest.
The room was barely illuminated by the glow of the streetlamp outside, a soft pool of gold spilling through the blinds and striping the sheets in broken lines. The air in here was cool, but your skin flushed hot as Alexia guided you in, your bodies pressed together from shoulder to knee. She used her thigh to nudge the door shut, the latch clicking softly behind you, and then she turned you, hands at your hips, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. She paused, her face just inches from yours, the rise and fall of her chest frantic as she looked at you like she needed permission and absolution all at once.
The two of you a tangle of limbs and fraying laughter, falling with you in a blur of skin and heat and need onto the bed. You landed together, breathless, her body heavy against yours in the best possible way. For a second, she just looked at you, eyes bright and soft and searching. You wondered if she was memorising you, or if she was just as unmoored as you felt.
She ran her hand up your bare thigh, slow and deliberate, she kissed your knee, your thigh, the place just above your hip bone, before crawling up your body and pressing her mouth, open and hungry to the space between your breasts, your lips, everywhere her hands had mapped first, and you opened to her, letting her devour you. Her hands slid to your ass, squeezing, kneading, and then she was hitching your hips up, guiding her thigh between your legs so you were lying beneath her. You rocked forward instinctively looking for that pressure that relief.
The sheets twisted under your hips, soft against your skin, and Alexia met every need, holding nothing back now, her face flushed, hair wild. You felt her hands everywhere all at once, at your back, your waist, your breasts, the curve of your ass, mapping the geography of your body with a hunger that felt like worship, or maybe gratitude.
She hovered above you, braced on her forearms, her face inches from yours, and the look in her eyes made your breath falter, she kissed you again, deeper this time, her tongue insistent, her hands cupping your cheeks like she could drink every little noise you made straight from your mouth. Her weight felt perfect on you, grounding, the friction between your bodies delicious and delirious. You wrapped your arms around her, loving the strength in her shoulders, the way her back muscles bunched and flexed under your hands. When she shifted her hips, you felt her thigh press even closer between your legs and you moaned, the sound muffled against her throat where you hid your face. It was almost embarrassing, how quickly you were coming undone, she kissed you so hard you thought you might shatter apart and not mind the breaking. She nipped your jaw, your chin, the lobe of your ear, and whispered something in Spanish you only half caught, all vowels and affection and want, and you felt it more than you heard it.
You wanted to say her name again, so you did, and she answered with her mouth, her hands, her hips, until you couldn’t tell where she ended and you began. She pushed your arms above your head, fingers laced through yours, pinning you to the mattress, her grip gentle but absolute. She slowed the pace, drawing it out until you thought you might sob from the need of it, and then, just when you were sure you’d go mad from waiting, she shifted her angle, pressing her thigh against exactly where you’d wanted her most and your body remembered exactly what to do. There was no hesitation you flexed up against her, working yourself over the hard line of her thigh, slow at first, a careful test, then faster as the friction bloomed and lit up every nerve ending you had. The simple pressure of her muscle between your legs, the way her skin slicked under your grip, made you dizzy with how much you needed this.
Alexia watched you lose yourself, her eyes hooded but bright, a lazy smile curving up as you started to pant. She liked this, liked seeing you desperate, and you could tell by the way her hands held your wrists pinned, the way she flexed her thigh to match your rhythm, giving you something to chase. You rocked against her, letting your hips do the talking, grinding until you could barely breathe. She kept her face close, breathing in every ragged sound you made, her own jaw clenched in restraint.
You could feel every heartbeat, both hers and yours, echoing in the heaviness between your thighs, each roll of your hips grinding slick and hungry into the dense muscle of her leg. The friction, the heat, the way your pulse threatened to shake you apart, you couldn’t keep still, couldn’t keep quiet, not with her eyes on you and her hands pinning yours to the bed.
If you’d been able to think straight, you might have been embarrassed by how quick you were to come undone, how your breath fell apart in gasps and your legs shivered against the mattress. But Alexia loved it, you could see it in the way her mouth parted, the way her pupils nearly swallowed up the color in her eyes. She licked her lips as she watched you, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet the skin you’d kissed raw. It made you desperate, made you chase her harder, and you knew you’d do anything to please her, anything.
You were so wet now, soaked even and still grinding into her, your bodies hot and damp, the sheets damp and her thigh shining with your arousal. The friction was almost enough, so close, but you wanted more needed more so you flexed your hips hard and gasped, pressing your whole cunt to the muscle of her thigh. Your mouth found her ear and you bit down, hard enough to make her growl.
“I want to taste you,” you moaned, words muffled against her skin, breath coming out ragged and hot, “please—fuck—let me taste you, I want you to sit on my face.” You said it raw, greedy, and the sound that came out of Alexia’s throat made your toes curl.
Her eyes went wide, dark with a sudden, dangerous hunger. She reached down, palmed your jaw, and kissed you so deep her teeth clacked yours, then pulled back with a grin half mad and breathless. She held your face, her thumb smearing spit on your chin, and said, “You want this? Show me how much.” Her voice was a dare.
You surged up, pressed your mouth to the hollow beneath her ear, your tongue tracing the edge of her jaw as you ground your soaking cunt onto the flex of her thigh. The friction sent sparks through your body. Alexia hissed, then let you push her back, let you claw at her hips and yank her into place above you.
She straddled your face, her thighs quivering on either side of your head, her cunt glistening and perfect, an impossible, greedy thing you needed to devour. You grabbed her ass, pulled her down until you could taste everything, sharp, sweet, dizzying her flesh soft and hot and slick under your tongue. She bucked as you sucked her clit, her hands in your hair, her gasping incoherent sounds in your ears. She tasted of night and sweat and soft, dangerous hope, and you drank deep, not stopping for air. You flattened your tongue and lapped her up, sucked her clit just the way you wanted it sucked, and she fucked your mouth with abandon, her hips canting forward, her thighs tightening around your head. She rode you like she’d been dying for this, and you held her steady, greedy for it, letting her grind herself stupid against your face.
You slurred her name, lapped at her with an urgency you couldn’t have faked if you tried, and she gasped something in Spanish your name, a prayer, a curse, you weren’t sure. Her hands twisted in your hair, flexing and pulling, her rhythm growing frantic, out of control. You feasted on her, felt her thighs tremble and clench, until she stiffened and shuddered above.
You lapped at her clit, circling it with your tongue, sucking gently until she sobbed, actually sobbed, the pleasure too much for her to keep quiet. She tried to slow you down, her hands at your scalp, but you locked your arms around her ass and pulled her harder onto your mouth, daring her to take it, to give in.
When she started to tremble, her thighs squeezing your head so tightly you saw stars, you moaned into her and she went slick and wild, hips rocking, her whole weight grinding into your face until you thought you’d suffocate on her. She came gasping, teeth gritted, a desperate, shattered whine, thighs trembling so hard you could feel the aftershocks under your palms. She collapsed forward, hands bracing on the headboard above, hair falling around you in a wet curtain, her cunt still pulsing under your tongue. You kept licking, softer now, savoring the aftertaste, the salt and sweetness.
When she finally managed to pull herself off, she slumped sideways, landing half on top of you, half tangled in her own hair. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and grinned at her, drunk on the taste and the ache in your jaw. She looked at you with something like awe, a ragged brightness in her eyes, then ducked down to kiss you hard, sharp, licking herself off your lips, like she wanted to taste herself as much as she wanted to taste you. You let her, swallowing her tongue, letting her press you down into the sheets, skin to skin, the smeared outline of her thigh glistening against your hip. Her hands were everywhere your jaw, your sternum, bracketing your neck like she might choke you just a little, just for fun. There was a sweetness to her now, a wild beast calmed, as though you'd hunted her and now she was yours to split and consume. She rutted her hips against you and you bucked back, not for show, not for politics, just for the pleasure of learning her weight, her friction, and the invincible teeter of possibilities.
She pressed her mouth to your jaw and, between kisses, grounded herself by palming your chest. She was relentless, in the best way, hungry, unsatisfied, and just as greedy for you as you were for her. She ground her thigh into you again, slick warmth meeting soft muscle, and you felt her smile as you cursed and clawed at her back.
You knew, suddenly, what you wanted—not just her, not just the friction of bodies, but the slow thrill of giving up control, of being seen and used and wanted for every inch of yourself. Alexia pulled back to look at you, her face split by a wicked grin, her eyes wild, like she could read every filthy thought in your head. “Is this how you like it?” she whispered, her accent curling every word into a dare.
You swallowed, nodded, let your fingers tangle in her hair again, desperate to hold her down, to keep her here like this, forever. You could barely breathe, let alone summon words, but something in her gaze dared you to give in even more. There was no room for shame between you, not after the way she’d let you take her apart and then put her back together again, not after the way her teeth had left marks along your throat, the way your own thighs were sticky with the evidence of her need and yours. It was as if she’d known you too long to bother with anything as fragile as hesitation.
You dragged your palm down the sweat dampened length of her spine, savouring the flex and tremble of muscle beneath your hand, your fingers digging into the ridges of her vertebrae as if you were trying to etch a map of this moment inside her.
She moaned at the contact, her mouth dragging along your shoulder and then lower, teeth grazing your chest, tongue flicking over the heat of your nipple until you arched under her, the shock of it surprising even you. She cupped your breast, not gentle but not rough either just exactly how you’d always wanted to be touched and never dared to ask for. She squeezed, rolled her tongue in lazy, greedy circles, and when you gasped, she did it again, and again, each time watching your face for the precise angle and pressure that would break you.
You let her play you like that, a new instrument, every noise a small victory for her. But you wanted her closer, needed it, so you hooked your thighs around her hips and pulled her flush to you. The skin-to-skin, cunt-to-cunt, you this time digging your nails in just to see how she’d react. The answer was immediate, she growled, a low, animal noise, and shifted her hips so the slick, aching heat of her cunt lined up perfectly with yours. Then she rocked into you, slow, a test, her thigh bracing under your hamstring, her mound catching and grinding against yours in a way that felt both obscene and necessary.
She kept her eyes on your face, watching for every flicker, every pulse of sensation. You’d never scissored before, not like this, not with someone so intent on making you feel every second of it. Her hand caught your knee and pulled your leg higher, draping it over her hip, spreading you so wide you felt split open with the want. Then she started to move, slow at first, the friction unreal, more than just skin, more than just nerves. You could feel her heat, the wet slide of you both, the way her pubic hair caught and tangled and tugged, pinching your attention toward the place where your bodies joined and pressed. Alexia’s hand darted up, fingers circling your breast, thumb sliding back and forth in slow, taunting passes that made your skin pebble and ache. She palmed you hard, then pinched, and a low, involuntary sound tumbled out of you, damp and needy.
You ground your hips into hers, feeling the drag and slip of your clits together, the pulse of hunger that seemed to throb through both of you and echo back, nerve to nerve. Alexia’s mouth claimed your other nipple, tongue swirling and pulling, her teeth grazing until you arched almost off the bed, your thigh wedged between hers.
She shifted, and suddenly your legs hooked over each other’s, the push and draw of your bodies a slow, controlled violence. You could feel her slickness, and yours, the heat spiking every time your clit met hers. The friction was unbearable, a shivering line of fire that made your muscles knot and tremble, made you clutch at her back for purchase, nails digging in as if you could anchor yourself there. Her hand cupped the underside of your breast, then squeezed, thumb flicking your nipple, tugging it until you gasped and the sound dissolved somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Alexia’s eyes were slits, her breath coming ragged between clenched teeth, her own need written in the desperate flex and thrust of her hips.
She hooked her knee higher, grinding your bodies closer, slick skin on slick skin, and the bed squeaked in time with the rhythm she forced on you. You found her hand, tangled your fingers in hers, and together you held on, the world narrowing to the hothouse tangle of limbs and heat and the animal urgency thrumming between your thighs.
You felt her teeth at your breast again, sharper this time, her tongue catching a bead of sweat as she bit, and the spark of pain made your hips buck, sliding desperate and wet against hers. You gasped, grabbing the hard flex of her thigh, she met you, grinding, hard, arrogant, wild, as if you were both trying to erase the world with friction. Your bodies slotted together, cunt to cunt, slick gathering in the hot press of skin, soft lips parting and finding their match in a raw, perfect alignment.
“Don’t stop,” she growled into your neck, and her words snapped something in you. You rutted against her, faster, messier with no rhythm, just hunger. She was as loud as you now, panting open-mouthed, her voice broken on every thrust. “Fuck, baby, just like that, fuck yes”
You lost track of your own voice, lost track of time or air, lost track of even your sense of skin, except for the riot of her leg thrown over yours, her thigh wet and sticky, every muscle clenching as she slammed her cunt to yours. You barely recognised the sound you made as you came, the strangled, desperate sob that seemed to echo straight out from your chest and into her mouth as she kissed you, neither of you able to stop moving, not when she was grinding your clits together and the slap of your bodies was all you could hear.
“Harder, fuck me harder, just like that, Jesus—” She was shaking, hands locked on your hips, nails biting hard enough to bruise as if she could keep you from ever leaving. You pressed your forehead to hers, your sweat smearing together, and watched her eyes go wild she went off like a string snapped, moaning into your ear, the sound so raw it felt like something illegal.
You pressed your clits together even harder, slippery and desperate, Alexia's face was wild, hair pasted in salt to her forehead, eyes locked on yours with some mix of challenge and need.
“Harder,” she rasped, and you ground into her, hips bucking out of control. She fought you for dominance, meeting every thrust with one of her own, her heel braced at the small of your back, pinning you where she wanted you. The contact was frantic, greedy, almost violent, her cunt against yours, wet and swollen, making the most obscene sounds as you squeezed together.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” you gasped, barely able to breathe. Alexia grabbed your ass, fingers driving in deep, nails raking you to the edge.
“Yeah? You love this?” Her voice was shredded, close to breaking.
“I fucking love it,” you bit back, and the crude truth of it sent a wild shiver through your spine. “Want you to come all over me. Want it to drip down my thigh.” It hurt to say it, the words tearing out of you, but Alexia’s eyes flared even wider, pupils black and starved.
“That’s it,” she panted into your mouth, “rub that pretty pussy on me, get it, fuck, get it all slippery” and she angled her hips so your clits mashed together with a delicious, excruciating pressure unlike before. Your whole core bowed toward her, slick and electric, thighs spasming uncontrollably.
Your face was in her neck, lips open, gasping for air. “You’re gonna make me, oh god, you’re gonna, Alexia, yes”
Alexia’s hand slid up your back, wrapped around your neck, and squeezed. Not hard enough to hurt, just to claim you, a thumb stroking your jaw like she was testing the tension in your neck. “You cum on my pussy, baby,” she whispered, her voice shredded and desperate, “I want to feel you drip for me. Show me how bad you want it.”
A sound like a sob tore out of you. “I want it—I want it” You rode her with full abandon, the tender ache in your core threatening to dissolve you. Alexia’s tits bounced slick with sweat, her eyes black with hunger. She looked at you like you were a meal, and she was starving.
“That’s it, fuck yourself on me oh fuck, you’re so pretty when you get desperate. You gonna cum for me?” She rolled her hips, and the pressure doubled, sharp and obscene.
You clung to her, all the muscles in your body contracting at once, every nerve ending blazing. The wordless crescendo in your throat broke loose as you came hard, clenching and pulsing, hips stuttering.
Alexia groaned, buried her face in your neck, and you felt her shudder and clench through her own orgasm, the heat of her searing. Everything blurred, sweat, skin, the riot of your hearts beating together. You sobbed into her shoulder and she held you so tightly you thought your ribs would crack, arms iron around you as if you might try to slip away. There was nothing else just your bodies, the scent of sex and sweat, the stick of her hands kneading your ass, your pulse staccato and wild in your ears.
You both collapsed, tangled and gasping, sticky with heat and spent need. Alexia stroked your back, shushing into your hair, and you floated on the afterglow, limp and boneless. Your thighs trembled and ached, the aftermath almost painful, every nerve raw and lit up with the memory of her body pressed hot and perfect to yours.
When you could finally see straight, you rolled your head to look at her. Alexia was sprawled next to you, one arm flung across your stomach, the side of her face buried against your shoulder, her lips parted as she caught her breath. You watched the rise and fall of her chest, the fine sheen of sweat on her skin, the way her hand found yours and twined your fingers together, as if to prove neither of you had dreamed a second of it.
She was silent for a long time, then let out a laugh, soft and a little disbelieving, muffled against your neck. “Are you alive?” she asked, her voice hoarse with pleasure and sleep.
You nodded, still fighting to get air into your lungs. “Barely. You?”
I do apologize if this doesn’t make sense hopefully it does but my brain is acting like a bunny jumping around.
Since R is from TX maybe have something with a contract extension or something but for the team announcement for it they have a bbq (they are from TX after all so they know how to do it) and a lot of southern cooking and go the whole 9 yards 😂 in attire and all which they rode horse so the cowgirls boots buckle and hat wouldn’t be that extreme. But Georgia has a comment that she could marry them after trying the food. And Glo gets at bit jealous about that comment despite them being engaged and if you comfortable alluding to smut or the actual thing whatever you’re comfortable with and hey R has on the cowgirl has so you know ride a cowgirl and save a horse and with that Glo take r hat and wears which also implies that as well
Oh god... 😭 (debating how much time i have to dedicate to this now bc holy shit, yes)
Yeah nah, all of that makes sense and you've inspired me. Thank u sm for this 😁
I know that your request are most likely closed, but would you be willing to take a request for kissin’ and kickin’ charms a workin series? It’s one of my favorites fic and series, I enjoy going back and rereading every so often (I currently have really shitty cell service so it’s just me lurking instead of being able to reblog it, but I’m sure the comment is still appreciated just the same). But also I know that you’re busy with life and all so I completely understand if ya can’t.
Hey fam, yknow what, hit me with it, im feeling glódís inspired
Hello, I just wanted to say that your writing is awesome. And I was wondering if you are planning on continuing the Meet You Maybe Never series. If not no worries. But I found it to be interesting and wanted to see if it was going to be continued.
Short answer is yes it will be.
Long answer is, I dont have any clue when.
It's a bit hectic at the moment and I've been dying to update anything, literally anything but I'm working on a "sleep, go to work, come home, eat, go to bed, repeat" cycle, im trying to adjust to the new job as im out of the house for 17 hours a day.
I will do my damndest to update this one, because I know you guys love MYMN and id love to continue it, just on the precipice of my own love of it.
I will find time. Im unfortunately a once every 6 months kind of person at this rate 😅
I will try to get it updated before february though.
Hi, I just wanted to say thank you for all the fics you've put out, I love them and I'm really grateful you shared them. I often find myself going back and rereading them, especially in your head and out of your heart. It's my lil comfort fic when I'm having a bad day, I just love how you write my favourite duo, so yeah thank you for putting them out there and I hope you're having a good day! 🩷
Omg so, i just got back to tumblr today after months of full chaos and stuff happening and I come back to this.
(Just started a new job this week and trying not to cry in the office rn guys 😭👉👈 this is so sweet)
I love you sm, thank you sm for reading anon and I'm so happy y'all can find that comfort in my writing and I'll do my best to occasionally pump out a fic or two.
You go to your cousins wedding in Spain, and you catch the eye of the Alexia Putellas, she unintentionally becomes your plus one
Wordcount: 5.8k
Other Parts
Muppet
I awake now
Cuddles needed
Urgently
You smiled at the texts, feeling that familiar flutter of warmth in your chest. Setting your cup of tea down, you stood and made your way upstairs.
Leaning against the doorway, you peeked in at Alexia lying back on the bed, “I’ve been looking at flights,” you said softly, trying to sound casual.
She lifted one brow, head tilting lazily toward you. “Flights?”
“Yeah,” you replied, stepping closer. “I can nip home, grab some stuff, finish off a few work bits… then I come straight back. I can do it in a day.”
She smirked, her eyes sparkling with mischief despite her knee. “You no need clothes,” she teased in her broken English, stretching slightly. “We home… you be naked, I no mind.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head at her cheekiness. “You’re terrible,” you said, but the grin spreading across your face made it clear you didn’t mind in the slightest.
Her hand reached out, patting the bed beside her. “Come… cuddle,” she demanded, voice soft but commanding.
You stepped in, easing her back into a comfortable position, careful with her knee, and slipped beside her. She draped an arm around your waist immediately, pulling you close, and you sighed, letting yourself melt into her warmth.
“Needy again, huh?” you murmured against her hair, one hand brushing across her back.
She hummed, nuzzling into you. “Yes… need girlfriend cuddles.”
You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “Then you’ve got them,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around her and letting the quiet intimacy of the moment settle over you both.
Curled into her side, your fingers absentmindedly traced circles on the fabric of her shirt, your mind wandering as you breathed her in. After a long moment, you tilted your head up toward her.
“Ale… can I ask you something?”
She shifted just enough to look down at you, eyebrows lifting curiously. “Mm? Anything.”
“Why don’t you ever wear the gold necklace you have?” you asked softly.
Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering in her eyes. “What gold necklace?”
You smiled faintly. “The night we met. You had this really simple gold chain on.”
Alexia blinked at you, clearly surprised. “You remember that?”
You gave a little shrug, almost shy now. “Of course I do. It probably one of the first things I noticed about you”
Her lips parted, and for once she looked genuinely amazed, a softness creeping over her expression that made your chest tighten. “Muppet…” she breathed, shaking her head a little. “That necklace… my papa gave it to me.”
Your hand stilled on her stomach as her words sank in. “Oh,” you whispered gently.
She swallowed, her voice quieter now. “I don’t wear it all the time. Only… for special things. It feels… too important, too close to him. I don’t want to lose it.”
You reached up, cupping her cheek tenderly, stroking your thumb over her skin. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just… I thought it suited you.”
Her eyes glistened faintly as she leaned into your touch. “It means a lot you remembered. Even more you asked.” She kissed the heel of your palm softly, then whispered, “Maybe next special moment… I wear it for you.” You smiled, your throat tight, her hand came to rest over yours, holding it there against her face. “You already are so special to me,” she said, voice husky with sincerity.
Alexia’s hand stayed over yours, her cheek pressed to your palm like she didn’t want to let it go. Her eyes softened, that little half-smile she only gave you tugging at her lips.
“You really remembered,” she whispered, almost to herself.
“Of course I did,” you said quietly, brushing your thumb over the edge of her jaw. “I notice everything about you, Ale. Even the little things.”
She let out a breathy laugh through her nose, shaking her head with a fondness that made your chest ache. “Muppet. You make me feel… seen.”
You shifted closer, tucking yourself against her, your face nuzzling into the warm skin of her neck. “That’s because you are. By me. Always.”
Her arms came around you, careful with her knee but strong all the same, pulling you flush to her body. She kissed the top of your head, lingering there, her lips barely moving as she whispered, “Next time I wear it… it’s for you.”
Your smile pressed into her collarbone. “I’d like that,” you murmured, your voice muffled, “but you don’t need a necklace to look beautiful to me. You just… are.”
You felt her chest rise and fall, the kind of sigh that was equal parts love and surrender. Then she tipped your chin up, kissed you slow, and for a long moment there was nothing else but the warmth between you.
"What was your papa like?" Her eyes flickered at your question, the kind of flicker that carried both weight and warmth. Alexia shifted slightly on the pillows so she could see you better, her fingers tracing absent circles on your hip.
“My papa…” she started, her voice low, almost careful. “He was… how you say… corazón grande. Big heart. Always smiling. Always making joke. He love football… but more, he love family.”
You listened, your hand brushing lightly along her stomach in encouragement.
“When I was small,” she went on, her accent a little thicker as the memories slipped out, “he take me to training. Rain, cold, no matter. He say, ‘Ale, if you love it, you work. No excuse.’” A faint, sad smile crossed her face. “He push me, but he also… he hug me after. He clap, always clap, even if I not play so good.”
You swallowed, your chest tight as you whispered, “Sounds like he was proud of you. So proud.”
Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t look away. “He was. And… I want him to see now. To see you. To see… this.” She gestured gently between you, her hand brushing over your chest before resting above your heart. “I think… he like you. Very much. Like I do”
You leaned forward, kissing her softly, tasting the emotion in the way her lips lingered. Pulling back just enough, you said, “Maybe not exactly like you do”
Alexia let out a shaky laugh, pressing her forehead to yours. “Muppet,” she whispered, though her voice cracked with tenderness
☀️
You were still curled into her side, her arm draped loosely around you, the faint rhythm of her breathing making you think she’d finally drifted off. Your phone screen glowed dimly against the sheets as you scrolled through flight options for the following day, calculating times in your head, whispering little numbers under your breath.
You nearly jumped when her voice broke the quiet.
“You going home?” Alexia’s words were soft, heavy with sleep, but sharp enough to cut right through your chest. "I thought you say joke"
You froze, blinking down at her. Her eyes weren’t fully open, just slits in the low light, but you could tell she wasn’t dreaming. “I…” you hesitated, locking your phone. “I was just looking at flights, yeah. Only for a day, maybe two. Grab some clothes, finish off some work. Then I’d come straight back.”
Her brow furrowed as she adjusted slightly, her hand squeezing your waist as though she thought you might slip away right there. “Muppet…” she whispered, her accent thicker with sleep, “you no go.”
Your heart ached at the plea. You smoothed her hair back from her forehead, pressing a kiss there. “Ale, I’ll come straight back. I promise. Just a day.”
Her eyes finally fluttered open fully, hazel and glossy in the dimness. “You leave, I feel it. My chest heavy.” She patted over her heart, her lips quirking like she was annoyed at herself for sounding so vulnerable. “I just… I need you close.”
You melted, kissing her cheek, then her lips gently. “I’ll figure something out,” you murmured, meaning it. “I’m not going anywhere for long. Not when you need me.”
Alexia hummed softly, finally settling back into the pillows, though she kept her arm tight around you as if to anchor you in place. “Good,” she muttered, eyes sliding shut again. “Stay. My girlfriend stays.”
☀️
The room was still wrapped in night when you padded quietly around, tugging your jeans up and slipping your phone into your pocket. It was barely five in the morning, your alarm having cut through the silence, and you’d convinced yourself Alexia would still be asleep.
But when you glanced back toward the bed, she was awake. Propped against the pillows, eyes on you, hazel soft and shadowed.
“You go,” she whispered, voice rough from sleep, when she saw you'd noticed.
You sighed, pulling your bag over your shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve got to, baby. Go back to sleep, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”
She shook her head slowly. “No. I no want just that.”
You frowned, pausing. “Ale—”
“When you come back… you stay.” Her words were steady now, clearer. “You move here. Make my home yours too.”
The air felt sucked out of your lungs. “Alexia…” you breathed, half-warning, half-pleading. “I can’t move here.”
Her face pinched. “Why not?”
“I just… I can’t do this right now.” You glanced at the time on your phone, your chest tight. “I’m going to miss check-in if—”
She cut you off, her tone sharper than before. “You no love me?”
You froze. The sting of it lodged in your throat. “That’s not fair, Alexia. At all.”
Her jaw clenched, fingers twisting in the sheets like she wanted to grab you and stop you from leaving. “You… you keep one foot always in London. Always away.”
You dropped your bag, running a hand through your hair, frustration spilling through. “I have responsibilities there. Work. Commitments. My life doesn’t just… stop because I met you.”
“And mine does?” she snapped, eyes bright with tears she refused to let fall. “Always me to compromise? Always me to bend?”
“No! That’s not what I’m saying.” You stepped toward the bed, desperate for her to understand. “I love you, Ale. But moving here, just like that? It’s not that simple.”
Silence stretched between you, sharp and raw. Her chest rose and fell, her gaze cutting straight through you.
Finally, you shook your head, grabbing your bag again, your voice low and trembling. “I can’t do this now. I’ll… I’ll call you from London.”
You didn’t wait for her reply. You walked out, the door clicking shut behind you, the sound heavier than any slam could’ve been.
☀️
Your phone buzzed back to life the moment the plane’s wheels hit the tarmac. The familiar London drizzle streaked the tiny oval window, and you sat stiff in your seat, bag on your lap, throat raw from replaying the fight a hundred times across the two-hour flight.
You didn’t even unlock your phone at first—just stared at the flood of notifications stacking up on the lock screen. Group chats, emails, Instagram tags… all white noise. What caught your eye was her name.
Ale 🤎
5:42am: Lo siento.
6:16am: No want fight before you go.
7:01am: Text me when you land, please.
Your chest tightened. You’d wanted space, but now, seeing her words, guilt sat like a weight between your ribs.
The flight attendants were ushering everyone up, the aisle filling, but you stayed seated a beat longer, phone in hand. You thought about the look on her face when you walked out, the mix of hurt and anger, of love pressed against fear.
Sliding your bag onto your shoulder, you finally unlocked your phone, thumbs hovering. You typed, erased, typed again.
I landed.
You paused, staring at it, too cold, too clinical, bot enough for her, not enough for what you felt.
You added
I’m sorry too. I don't want to fight. I love you.
Your finger hovered over send, heart pounding like you were about to step on stage.
You hit send and the whoosh of the message leaving felt like a stone dropped into a lake, ripples spreading out but no splash back. No three dots. No immediate reply. Just the endless buzz of other passengers tugging their bags from overhead lockers, muttering about connections and taxis.
You stuffed your phone in your pocket, throat dry.
By the time you’d cleared passport control and were waiting at baggage claim, the silence was starting to feel heavy. Every time your phone vibrated you snatched at it, only to see Uber offers or emails from your agent. Not her.
You pulled your case from the belt and wheeled it out into the arrivals hall, scanning for the car service that was supposed to pick you up. Still nothing.
By the time you slid into the backseat of the car, London streets blurred with rain outside the window, the ache in your chest had spread. You kept replaying the fight, the way her voice cracked when she asked “You no love me?” The way you didn’t have time, didn’t have words, and chose to walk away instead.
Your phone buzzed again. Your heart leapt, but it was Emily
You back? Drinks tonight if you’re not dead tired?
You ignored it, for now and stared at the last message on your thread with Alexia.
I’m sorry too. I don't want to fight. I love you.
The screen glared back at you in silence.
☀️
The rain had eased by the time you met Emily. The bar was dimly lit, tucked into a side street near Soho, all mismatched chairs and candles dripping wax down green wine bottles. Emily had already claimed a corner table with two glasses of wine waiting.
“You look like death warmed up,” she teased, nudging the second glass toward you.
You let out a tired laugh, sinking into the chair. “Thanks. Just what I needed to hear.”
She tilted her head, studying you. “So… is this jetlag, work stress, or Alexia stress?”
You picked up your glass, staring into the red swirl like it might offer an answer. “Bit of everything.”
Emily leaned closer, lowering her voice over the hum of the bar. “She hasn’t texted back, has she?”
You shook your head. “Not a word. I told her I landed. Told her I love her. Nothing.”
Emily frowned. “Classic post fight standoff. She’s probably sitting in Barcelona glued to her phone doing the same thing you are.”
“Or she’s realised I can’t give her what she wants,” you muttered, tracing your fingertip along the rim of your glass. “She wants me there, to move in, to just… uproot everything. And I—” you broke off, exhaling sharply. “I can’t. Not like this. Not yet.”
Emily was quiet for a moment, then reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “She’s Alexia fucking Putellas. She’s stubborn. But she’s also crazy about you. She’ll come around.”
The candle on your table flickered low, dripping another line of wax onto the already hardened mound. Emily’s words cut sharper than the wine did.
“Babe, you must’ve known it would need you to be the one to move out of the two of you,” she said gently but firmly. “She can never leave Barcelona. Her whole life is there.”
You stiffened, your glass halfway to your lips, Emily’s words landed like a stone in your chest. The wine suddenly tasted sharper, heavier “And mine’s not in London?”
Emily sighed, leaning in, her tone softening. “Let me finish. Alexia is Barcelona. That club isn’t just her job, it’s her identity, her blood. Football club, city, everything. She’s never leaving that club. And even when she retires, she’ll still be tied to them somehow. That’s just… who she is.”
You set your glass down, a little too hard, the stem rattling. “So what, you think I should just pack up my life, my work, my friends, and move to Spain?” fingers tightening on the stem before you let go. “And what about who I am, Em? Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve built,it’s all in London.”
“I think,” Emily said carefully, “you need to ask yourself if you could. If you’re willing. Because if you’re not, then…” She trailed off, watching your face, the weight of her words settling heavy between you. “Then maybe you need to figure it out now, before you both fall in any deeper. That’s why I’m saying you need to think. Really think, because for this thing to work, to not break both your hearts, one of you has to bend and you know it can’t be her. So are you” she held your gaze, eyes searching yours, “are you willing to be the one to move?”
Your throat tightened. The truth of it stung because you knew she was right. Alexia was Barcelona and you were London, but hadn’t you already been living half your life on FaceTime, hopping flights for stolen weekends, aching every time you said goodbye?
You stared down at the wine, at the tiny ripples where your hand shook against the table.
“Emily…” you whispered, almost to yourself. “I don’t know if I can lose her.”
Emily reached across again, covering your trembling hand with hers. “Then maybe you already know the answer.”
The bar noise pressed in around you, laughter, glasses clinking, music humming low. But all you could hear was Alexia’s voice in your head, raw and breaking. You no love me? And the silence still sitting on your phone like a stone.
☀️
You slid the key into the lock, the familiar click echoing through the quiet apartment. The hum of the fridge greeted you as you stepped inside, dropping your bag by the door. Alexia wasn’t downstairs, probably still in her room resting or maybe nursing her knee but the place smelled faintly of her coffee and citrus cleaner, little touches of her everywhere that made you smile despite the knot in your stomach.
You opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and turned and nearly jumped out of your skin. Alexia was there in the doorway, silhouetted against the light from the hall, eyes wide, a soft but unreadable expression on her face.
“Jesus, Ale,” you muttered, heart racing as you set the bottle down. “You scared me.”
She tilted her head, a small, awkward smile tugging at her lips. “I… surprise.”
You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, well… you succeeded.”
A silence settled over the kitchen, thick and slightly uncomfortable. The argument before you’d left hung in the air like smoke neither of you wanted to blow away yet. You could see it in her eyes hesitation, the edges of hurt, but also the flicker of warmth that made your chest tighten.
“I… water?” you offered, gesturing to the fridge.
She shook her head, stepping a little closer. “No… I no thirsty.”
You both froze for a beat, unsure what to do with the gap between you. Finally, you leaned against the counter, keeping some space between you, and said softly, “I… I missed you.”
Her eyes softened, and she nodded, a faint exhale escaping her. “I… missed you too.”
The words were simple, but they were enough to begin untangling the tension. Still, the air was tinged with that awkwardness of two people who had hurt each other and hadn’t quite figured out how to step back into normal.
You shifted slightly, leaning more on the counter, and let out a slow breath. “Ale… we should talk,” you said gently, the words heavier than you expected.
She blinked at you, hesitation in her gaze, the small smile from earlier faltering just a little. “Talk… now?”
“Yes,” you replied, keeping your voice soft. “We left things… messy before I went. I don’t want to just pretend it didn’t happen. I want to hear you. I want you to hear me.”
Alexia fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, looking down at the floor for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “I… I no like fight. I just… scared, maybe.”
You took a step closer, though still careful not to crowd her. “I know. I was scared too and I didn’t handle it right, but avoiding it doesn’t help us. We can talk, be honest… then we can move on.”
Her lips quirked into a tiny, tentative smile. “You… very serious.”
“I’m serious about you, Ale,” you said quietly, reaching out a hand to rest lightly on her arm. “I want us to fix this. Together.”
She took a small breath, leaning into your touch just a little. “Okay… talk, but gentle?”
You chuckled softly, relief easing some of the tension. “Always gentle. I promise.”
Alexia shifted her weight, fidgeting slightly before speaking. “Ok… good,” she said finally, “I no understand what you say when you talk loud.”
You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Look, for you to question how I feel about you—”
She cut you off, holding up a hand, her eyes earnest. “I sorry, I know you love me… I… I just angry.”
You took a deep breath, trying to keep your frustration gentle. “Ok, but Alexia… you asked me to up and move my entire life, like it was nothing. I understand my job allows me to move more than yours does, but you… you just assumed that 5am, when I had a flight to catch, was a good time to bring it up and acted like it was such a flippant decision to make”
Alexia’s gaze dropped, silent for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” you continued, your voice softening, “but I’m not ready to up and move my whole life to Barcelona for you after six months of knowing you and if that means we end here, then… it’ll break my heart, but I—”
“I don’t want us to end,” Alexia interrupted, her voice quiet but firm. “I… I feel out of control. I no like… no having control. Everyone make decision for me. I wanted to make my own decision. So I asked.” She raised her eyes to meet yours, vulnerability plain. “You never move here for me?”
You swallowed, torn, feeling the weight of her words. “I… don’t know. I don’t want to say never, but I don’t want to make a promise I don’t know whether I can keep.”
The room was quiet again, but now it felt less heavy, like both of you had begun to untangle the tension. You took a step closer, brushing your fingers lightly against hers. “I don’t want to lose us either,” you murmured.
Her lips curved slightly, just enough to let you know she felt the same. “Then… we figure it out, together?”
“Together,” you agreed, letting the tension between you ease as the first small threads of reconciliation began to take hold.
You both inched closer, the space between you finally disappearing as the tension of the last few days seemed to melt away. Your arms wrapped around her, fingers tracing small circles on her back, pulling her gently into you.
“I love you,” Alexia whispered, her voice soft, almost hesitant, but full of warmth. You pressed your forehead against hers, exhaling slowly. “And I know you love me too. I stupid to question that,” she continued, her thumb brushing your cheek. “You here for me when you no have to. We go back to normal now, it ok if you no ready and don’t know. It very soon to be talking about living together.”
You chuckled, the relief washing through you, and ran your hands up and down her back. “Very,” you murmured, teasing lightly. “Considering Carmen told me you like to move like a snail when you date, thought I’d have at least two years before you even thought about it.”
Alexia laughed, the sound warm and musical, pressing her cheek against yours. “Muppet,” she whispered, “you very clever, maybe too clever. But… I like you clever.”
You smiled, tightening your embrace, feeling her weight settle against you. “I like you too,” you admitted, voice low and sincere. “Clever, stubborn, bossy, all of it.”
She nuzzled your neck, sighing softly. “I no like fight. I no want it again. Just… stay close.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, pressing a kiss to her temple. “We’ll take it slow, figure it out together. No pressure, no rush. Just us.”
Her arms tightened around you, and for a long while, you just held each other in the quiet kitchen, letting the normalcy and intimacy rebuild what had felt so fragile.
You eased back from her, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face before glancing down at her knee. Your brow furrowed immediately, “Ale…” you said gently, tapping her hip so she’d follow your gaze. “Your knee looks more swollen than when I left.” She shrugged, as if it was nothing, but you were already steering her toward the stool by the counter. “Sit.”
“Muppet, I fine—”
“Sit,” you repeated, firmer this time but still soft, guiding her down until she settled with a little huff of air through her nose.
You opened the freezer, rummaging around until you found one of the gel packs she kept stocked, wrapping it quickly in a kitchen towel, you turned back to her. She was watching you with that half-smirk she got whenever she pretended to be annoyed but was secretly touched.
“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered, kneeling in front of her as you positioned the ice carefully over the swelling. “Someone has to be sensible around here.”
Her lips twitched. “My girlfriend… bossy.”
You glanced up at her, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “And you love it.”
She tilted her head, eyes softening as she reached out to cup your cheek. “Mucho.”
You kept the ice in place, but your free hand rested lightly on her shin, thumb brushing absent circles against her skin. “Seriously though, baby. You need to stay on top of this. Let the physios do their job, let me do mine, and don’t try to be Superwoman every second.”
Alexia exhaled, leaning back a little, finally letting herself relax. “Ok… ok. You right.”
You kissed her hand before setting it back in her lap, your tone playful now. “Say it again, I want to record it. Alexia Putellas admitting I was right.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Muppet.'
You smirked as her laugh settled into a sigh, then stood, brushing your palms on your thighs. “Stay,” you instructed, pointing at her like she was a naughty puppy. “Do not move from that stool, understood?”
Alexia arched a brow. “You boss me in my own kitchen now?”
“Yes,” you shot back without missing a beat, grabbing the kettle and filling it with water. “You said it yourself, you like me bossy.”
She chuckled, shaking her head as she adjusted the ice pack on her knee. “Muppet…”
You busied yourself pulling mugs down, finding her tea tucked away behind jars of coffee. It felt oddly… nice. Domestic, like this was your little routine instead of a fleeting moment. You glanced back at her, catching her watching you with a softened expression, her phone forgotten in her lap.
“What?” you asked, cheeks warming.
Alexia just shrugged lightly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I like see you here. You… look right.”
That tugged at your chest, but you kept things light, rolling your eyes as you set the mugs down. “Careful, you’ll start getting ideas again about me moving in.”
“I already have ideas,” she teased, reaching out to catch your wrist when you placed her tea in front of her. She gave a little squeeze before letting go, as if reminding you of the conversation from earlier without forcing it.
You kissed the top of her head as you slid the mug closer. “Drink. Doctor’s orders.”
“Girlfriend’s orders,” she corrected softly, lips curling into a smile as she lifted the cup.
You perched on the counter beside her, sipping your own tea, your knee brushing her thigh. For a long moment, neither of you spoke you just sat there, the quiet hum of the fridge filling the silence, the ice pack slowly melting against her skin.
Finally, Alexia broke it, her voice quiet. “I like when you fuss. Makes me feel…” She trailed off, searching for the word. “…safe.”
Your chest tightened, but you reached over, lacing your fingers with hers on the counter. “Good, because that’s exactly how I want you to feel.”
☀️
That night, the house was quieter than you’d ever heard it. Alba wasn’t around, Eli had gone home after bringing over dinner, and even the city outside seemed to hush itself.
You’d made Alexia get into bed earlier than she wanted, arguing she wasn’t a superhero no matter what Barça fans believed and she’d grumbled but given in, knee propped carefully on a pillow with a fresh ice pack.
Now you were fussing with the duvet, tucking it just so, when her hand reached out and caught yours.
“Muppet,” she whispered, her hair loose and falling over her face, “I no child. You tuck me in like niña pequeña.”
You gave her a small grin, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Maybe, but you’re my niña pequeña. You certainly act like one when you don't get your way, that bottom lips come right out”
She groaned dramatically, but her smile betrayed her. “Terrible.”
You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, then another at the corner of her mouth. “Go to sleep, baby. You need it.”
Instead, Alexia slid her arm around your waist, tugging until you climbed under the covers beside her. She shifted carefully, turning enough so she could tuck her head beneath your chin, her hand resting over your heart.
“You still fussing,” she mumbled into your skin, “but I like it. You make me feel… calm.”
You kissed the crown of her head, brushing your fingers down her back in slow lines. “Good. Then I’ll keep fussing.”
For a while, neither of you spoke, the weight of the day settling into the dark. Then, softer than you’d ever heard her, Alexia whispered, “Stay close tonight. I want… your warmth.”
You shifted, pressing yourself even closer until you were practically wrapped around her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her breathing evened out after that, but you lay awake a little longer, your hand stroking her back, your heart tight with the tenderness of it all.
☀️
The sunlight was only just starting to spill through the curtains when you stirred awake. For once, Alexia hadn’t been up before you. Instead, she was tangled around you like she’d glued herself there in the night. Her leg draped carefully but firmly over your hip, her arm locked across your middle, her face pressed into your neck.
You shifted slightly, and she gave a low grumble of protest, tightening her hold.
“Buenos días,” you whispered softly, brushing some of her hair back.
“No,” she muttered, voice gravelly from sleep, “no morning. Stay here. Is perfect.”
You smiled, amused but touched at her stubbornness. “Baby, I need to breathe, you know.”
Alexia lifted her head, sleep heavy eyes meeting yours, and she sighed. “I sorry,” she said, her English thick but clear, “for other morning. For… asking stupid. For make you feel bad.”
You frowned gently, shaking your head. “You didn’t make me feel bad, Ale. You just caught me off guard.”
Her fingers traced aimless shapes across your ribs, nervous, almost shy. “I know it big. You move life… not small. I think too much of me. I no respect what it mean for you.”
The vulnerability in her voice tugged at your chest. You cupped her face, pulling her closer so your foreheads touched. “It’s a huge thing, Alexia, but the way you asked, it wasn’t wrong because you asked. It was just too soon, too quick. Like it was nothing, when it’s everything. Do you get that?”
She nodded, eyes glassy but determined. “I get it. I want you, always, but I wait. I no rush. I no ever question if you love me again. You show me every day.”
You kissed her then, slow and steady, feeling her cling tighter like she needed to anchor herself. When you pulled back, she still looked guilty, searching your face. “You know what’s funny?” you teased, brushing your thumb over her lips. “I thought you were the snail in relationships. Two years before big things, remember?”
Alexia let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Snail, sí, but you make me want run. Too fast.”
You chuckled softly, pressing another kiss to her mouth. “Then slow down with me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Alexia buried her face back into your neck, arms clutching you closer as if to prove her sincerity. “Clingy today,” she admitted against your skin, voice muffled.
“I can tell,” you teased, stroking her back. “Guess I’ll just have to deal with it.”
She smiled against your throat, whispering, “Deal.” Her lips were still pressed lazily to your neck when she mumbled, voice low and teasing, “You know… I think… if you still mad, I let you wear strap. Only for forgive.”
You froze, then pulled back to look at her properly. “What?”
Alexia smirked, though her eyes glinted with mischief. “Mm. Just for you to forgive me. You want it, no? You ask before.”
You blinked, then scoffed, half laughing, half shocked. “Ale, that’s… that’s not how you fix things. Offering me something you swore you’d never do just because you’re feeling guilty.”
Her grin widened. “So you want it.”
You narrowed your eyes at her, fighting a smile. “That’s not the point.”
“Is little bit the point,” she teased, tapping your chin with her finger. “I say never, but maybe… you very convincing. Very tempting”
You tilted your head, amused, and leaned closer until your lips brushed hers. “You’d seriously let me, just because you think I need bribing to forgive you?”
She giggled softly, the sound like music in the quiet room. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like idea you so happy you forget I stupid.”
You shook your head with a laugh, pressing your forehead to hers. “God, you’re something else, Putellas.”
Alexia kissed you once, tender, then whispered, “So… no mad?”
“Not mad,” you admitted softly, stroking her cheek. “But don’t think dangling the strap like a peace treaty is gonna work every time.”
Her smirk returned as she nipped your lip. “Not every time. Just… when desperate.”
You burst into laughter, shaking your head as you hugged her tight. “You’re so annoying.”
She whispered against your skin, almost smug, “But you love me.”
And you sighed, kissing her hair, “Unfortunately for me, I really, really do.”
You go to your cousins wedding in Spain, and you catch the eye of the Alexia Putellas, she unintentionally becomes your plus one
Wordcount: 7.5k
Other Parts
The Johan Cruyff Stadium buzzed with excitement, the late summer sun still warm as you found your seats alongside your family. Your mum and dad were giddy with pride, and Ben was practically bouncing, already wearing the Barça shirt he’d bought with pride the minute he learned of his wife’s transfer across the city.
“Can you believe it?” your dad said, shaking his head with a grin. “Our Carmen. Playing for bloody Barcelona.”
You smiled, though your stomach was twisting for another reason entirely. You’d been in the city since yesterday afternoon, but not once had you seen Alexia. Schedules, media duties, and Carmen’s big day had kept you apart, and though you were surrounded by family and the buzz of matchday, your chest ached with anticipation. You just needed to see her.
The teams began their warm ups, players jogging onto the pitch to cheers and scattered applause. Your heart leapt when Alexia, even from so far away, you knew the way she moved, the confident rhythm of her strides, the casual flick of her ponytail.
“You’re staring” Ben nudged you knowingly, smirking when he caught the way your eyes locked onto her.
You couldn’t stop yourself, it didn’t matter that you were up in the stands and she was down on the pitch, that you couldn’t touch her, couldn’t even speak to her yet. Just laying eyes on her made the last 24 hours of longing melt away, replaced with that electric warmth she always sparked in you.
Your mum leaned over. “I can’t wait to meet her” she said softly, her tone affectionate, as if she could read everything you felt in your face.
You didn’t deny it, you couldn’t. You just sat a little straighter, gaze fixed on the pitch, soaking in the sight of her, waiting for the moment you’d finally be close again.
The atmosphere inside the Johan Cruyff was electric, fans drumming, chanting, waving flags. Your heart swelled as the announcer called Carmen’s name in the starting lineup, she was standing tall between the posts for her Barcelona debut, your whole family clapping and cheering until your hands hurt. Pride didn’t even begin to cover it.
The match started at a frantic pace, the stands alive with energy. You were swept up in it, your brothers yelling beside you, your mum clutching your dad’s arm every time the ball came near Carmen’s goal. Still, your gaze kept flicking across the pitch, to the midfield general in the No. 11 shirt.
It was surreal seeing her out there in her world, captaining the team, her every movement so sharp, so commanding. You longed for the match to end just so you could finally close the distance between you.
But then, midway through the first half, the stadium gasped. Alexia went down under a heavy challenge. She stayed down, one hand clutching at her leg. Your chest seized.
“Oh no,” your mum muttered.
You were already half standing, palms pressed tight to the railing in front of you. Physios rushed on. The noise of the crowd swelled, anxious and uncertain. She tried to get up, to walk it off, but shook her head after a few steps. Then the substitution board went up.
Your stomach dropped. She was coming off.
From your seat, you could only watch helplessly as she walked gingerly toward the sideline, the captain’s armband already passed on. Her face was tight, frustrated, and though she didn’t look up, you wanted to scream her name, to run down to her.
“She’s tough,” your dad said quietly, trying to reassure you. “Don’t panic. She’s tough.”
You nodded, but your throat was thick, your eyes burning. Your focus stayed locked on Alexia, heart hammering as she disappeared into the tunnel.
☀️
After the final whistle, the pride you felt for Carmen was overwhelming, her debut, her saves, the way she carried herself like she belonged in that goal. Your family were buzzing, snapping photos, talking about every highlight, but your chest was tight with worry, your mind only on one thing, Alexia.
You barely heard the post-match chatter as you made your way through the players family and friends access, Carmen having arranged for your family to meet her inside. She came bounding over, sweaty and exhilarated, hugging everyone, but when her eyes met yours, she knew.
“She’s in the physio room,” Carmen said quietly, giving your arm a squeeze. “Go on.” She pointed in the direction to go and you slipped away, following the hall until you found the right door. Inside, Alexia sat on a treatment table, her knee wrapped loosely, a physio murmuring something in Spanish before stepping out. She looked up the moment you entered. Her strong captain’s mask faltered her eyes were glassy, her jaw tight.
“They don’t know,” she muttered, shaking her head, her broken English even more halting now that her emotions were raw. “Maybe weeks… maybe months.”
You crossed the room in three quick steps, cupping her face as her tears threatened to fall. “Hey,” you whispered softly, brushing your thumbs along her cheeks. “Don’t go there yet. It could just be a twist. You don’t know.” She tried to look away, but you kissed her cheek, lingering. “I’ll be here,” you told her firmly. “Every step, Ale. If you need me, I’m there. You don’t go through this alone.”
Her hands gripped your wrists, grounding herself on you. “I hate… not knowing,” she admitted, voice breaking.
“I know, baby,” you soothed, resting your forehead against hers. “But whatever it is we’ll handle it together. You hear me? Together.”
Finally, her shoulders eased, just a little. She let out a shuddering breath and leaned into you, eyes closing as she let herself be held, your lips brushing her temple in quiet reassurance.
You stayed there with her between your arms, the sterile physio room suddenly feeling smaller, softer, like you’d managed to fold it in on itself so it was just the two of you. Alexia’s breath was shaky against your collarbone, her fingers curled in the fabric of your top like she was afraid you might disappear if she let go.
“I try… to be strong,” she murmured, voice muffled. “For team, for fans… but inside, I” She cut herself off, shaking her head.
You kissed her hair, holding her tighter. “You don’t have to be strong with me. You don’t. You’re allowed to be scared, Ale.”
Her chest rose and fell unevenly, and then she let out a small laugh that cracked halfway through. “Muppet… always know what to say.”
“Not always,” you admitted softly, pulling back enough to meet her eyes, swollen and red-rimmed but still so beautiful. “But I know this you’re not alone. Not now, not ever. You’ve got me and I’m not going anywhere.”
Her lips trembled before the faintest smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She reached up and brushed her knuckles along your jaw, her touch tender in a way that spoke louder than words. “I… love you,” she whispered again, almost like it slipped out.
You pressed your forehead to hers, whispering it back without hesitation, “I love you too, baby.”
For a moment, the injury, the fear, the unknown it all faded into the background. There was just you and her, wrapped up in a bubble of quiet comfort, holding on like the world couldn’t touch you.
☀️
You and Alexia stepped out of the physio room, her arm looped through yours so she could lean on you as much as needed. A staff member approached quickly, holding a set of crutches.
“Do you need these, Alexia?” they asked in Spanish, concern written all over their face.
Alexia shook her head, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “No… I fine,” she said, her tone firm but grateful. Then, with a small smile and a playful squeeze of your arm, she added, “My girlfriend help me.”
You laughed softly at that, the title still making your chest warm. “Maybe… maybe crutches are best for now,” you suggested gently. “Until you know exactly what’s going on. Just in case.”
She gave you a mock glare, resting more weight on you as she started walking toward the car. “Muppet… I no need crutches. I strong.”
“And I’m here to make sure you stay strong safely,” you teased, keeping your arm around her as you led her to the car. “We can handle this together, but let’s not make it harder than it has to be.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips, and you knew she trusted you completely.
You watched Alexia disappear into the locker room, the familiar sway of her walk making your chest ache with longing and worry, when a cheerful voice called out your name.
“Y/n!”
Turning, you saw Jana, Patri, and Pina approaching, waving excitedly.
“Hey! It’s so good to see you again,” you said, smiling, giving them a quick hug each. “It’s been… months”
“Months!” Pina laughed, shaking her head. “And you’ve been teasing us with insta stories about being in Barcelona. Now we finally get to see you!”
You laughed, brushing a hand through your hair. “Well, I’m technically here for Carmen’s debut. And… Alexia is around too.”
Just then, Alexia emerged from the locker room, her expression confident despite the knee wrap. She winked at you and, in her thickly accented English, said with a grin, “See? My girlfriend help me. All fine.” To one of her teammates fussing nearby.
You felt warmth bloom in your chest, pride and affection hitting you all at once. The girls giggled at the comment, teasing her lightly, but you just laughed along, squeezing Alexia’s hand.
The conversation flowed easily, laughter and chatter bouncing off the locker room walls. Jana was animatedly recounting a key save from Carmen, Pina was joking about how intense the stadium atmosphere had been, and you were leaning against the wall, listening and smiling, letting Alexia stay close.
“Seriously, that save in the second half?” Jana said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “She had everyone on the edge of their seats!”
“She’s incredible,” you added, squeezing Alexia’s hand. “We’re so proud of her” you said before Patri’s voice cut through gently, but firmly.
“Ale… enough. You need to switch off. Go home, focus on your recovery.”
Alexia’s grin faltered just slightly, lips twitching as she looked down at her knee. “I… okay,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “But… my girlfriend help me.” She leaned a little into you, the reminder softening the firmness of Patri’s words.
You squeezed her hand back. “She’s right,” you said softly. “You’ve done enough today. Let’s get you home and rested.”
Patri smiled approvingly, nodding. “Exactly. Don’t overdo it. You’ve got people to take care of you, Ale, until you find out what’s going on in that knee of yours”
Alexia’s face warmed as she glanced at you, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Muppet… okay,” she whispered, finally letting herself be guided by you, as you all began to head out of the locker room.
The walk out of the stadium was slow, deliberate. Alexia moved carefully on the crutches, her weight balanced just so. You didn’t mind going at her pace in fact, you used it as an excuse to touch her, your hand resting on her back for support.
Staff members nodded respectfully as she passed, a few offering soft “ánimo” and encouraging smiles. You could see in Alexia’s tight jaw and forced half-smile that she hated this part, the sympathy, the reminder that she wasn’t untouchable.
When you reached the quiet underground car park, the sound of your footsteps echoed. Alexia sighed, leaning slightly more into you.
“You okay?” you asked softly, brushing your thumb along her hip as you guided her closer to the car.
She let out a breath. “Hate… this,” she admitted in her broken English. “Crutches… people look. I feel… weak.”
Your heart tugged at her vulnerability. You stopped her before she could maneuver awkwardly into the seat. With one hand, you tipped her chin up until her eyes met yours. “You’re not weak. You never have been and never will be”
Alexia’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, her eyes glossy again. “Girlfriend say nice things,” she murmured, leaning in to press a soft, grateful kiss to your lips.
You brushed your nose against hers, whispering, “I say true things.”
Finally, with some careful maneuvering, you helped her into the passenger seat, taking the crutches and stowing them in the back, as you buckled her seatbelt for her, she smirked faintly.
“Hmm… girlfriend privileges,” she teased, her voice low. “Get used to this”
“Oh shush, you just liked my boobs in your face and the fact you could see down my top”
She grinned, “Girlfriend know me well”
You smiled, closing the door and moving around to the driver’s side, determined to get her home, where you could both finally exhale.
☀️
By the time you pulled into Alexia’s driveway, the sun had dipped low, painting the sky in soft streaks of pink and orange. You killed the engine and slipped out, jogging around to her side before she could even think about fumbling with the door.
“Girlfriend fast,” Alexia teased with a tired smile, but she didn’t resist when you helped her out carefully, sliding the crutches back under her arms.
Inside, the familiar spacious warmth of her home greeted you. Eli had clearly been by there were fresh groceries on the counter, and a vase of flowers on the dining table. You guided Alexia straight to the sofa, where she collapsed with a relieved sigh.
“Better?” you asked, crouching in front of her to help ease off her shoes.
“Better… with you here,” she said softly, her accent thick, words careful. Her hand brushed along your cheek before dropping lazily onto your shoulder.
You smiled, leaning into her touch before standing. “I’ll get you water. Maybe some food?”
“Muppet… sit,” she muttered, tugging at your wrist until you sank onto the sofa beside her. She nestled into you almost immediately, head against your shoulder, her arm draped across your waist. “Stay.”
And so you stayed. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You just listened to her breathing settle, your fingers tracing gentle shapes over the back of her hand resting on your thigh.
Finally, Alexia broke the silence. “I… angry, sad, scared,” she admitted in halting English. “But also… I feel lucky, because you here, you stay.”
Your throat tightened. You turned to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “Always, Ale. I’ll be here every step. Whatever you need.”
She tilted her chin up, searching your eyes with a softness that made your chest ache. “I love you,” she whispered, no hesitation this time.
You kissed her slow and sure, a promise in return. “I love you too.”
The evening passed gently, warmth, quiet comfort, little touches. You fetched water when she finally let you, coaxed her to eat something small, and by the time the city outside had fallen quiet, Alexia was dozing against you, safe, her hand curled into your shirt like she was afraid you might slip away.
☀️
The morning light spilled through the curtains, soft and golden. You stirred first, blinking at the unfamiliar weight pressed against you. Then it hit you, Alexia’s head nestled on your chest, her arm draped across your stomach, her crutches leaning against the nightstand where you’d left them last night.
For a moment, you just watched her sleep. She looked younger like this, the lines of tension smoothed from her face. You brushed your fingers lightly through her hair until she stirred, lashes fluttering.
Her brow furrowed almost immediately as she shifted her leg, a hiss of discomfort slipping from her lips.
“Morning,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Be careful baby”
She groaned softly, eyes still half closed. “Hate this already,” she admitted, her voice thick with sleep. “Feel… stuck.”
You cupped her jaw, coaxing her to look at you. “You’re not stuck. You’re healing. Big difference.”
She blinked at you, a little scowl tugging at her lips. “Muppet… too positive in morning,” she muttered, but there was no heat in it.
You grinned, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “That’s my job, isn’t it? Keep you from spiraling.”
Alexia let out a quiet huff, shifting closer again. “Job for girlfriend, hm?” she teased, though the vulnerability in her tone betrayed how much she needed the reassurance.
Your heart squeezed. “Exactly and I take that job very seriously.”
She relaxed against you then, finally letting her body sink into the mattress again.
You stroked her hair as you murmured, “How about I make us some breakfast? We’ll take it slow today. You tell me what you want, I’ll bring it right here.”
Alexia’s lips curled into a faint, sleepy smile. “Hmm. I want you,” she whispered simply. Then after a beat, with a little smirk: “And café con leche.”
You laughed softly, kissing her forehead before slipping out of bed. “Done. Stay put, baby. I’ve got it covered.”
As you padded toward the kitchen, you felt it this was new territory for Alexia, relying on someone, letting someone take care of her and for you, it was the start of showing her that you meant what you’d promised, every step of the way, you were there.
You carried the mugs carefully in your hands as you padded back into Alexia’s bedroom. The rich scent of freshly made café con leche filled the air, and you set them gently on the bedside table.
Alexia was propped up against the pillows, phone in hand, scrolling through messages with that usual focused frown on her face. She murmured a distracted, “Gracias,” without looking up.
You sat on the bed beside her, perched on the edge, casual as anything. It wasn’t until she turned to reach for her coffee that her eyes finally landed on you. They widened instantly, then narrowed into a slow, knowing smirk.
“You… are naked,” she said, her accent thicker with surprise, her eyes lingering longer than they probably should’ve.
You shrugged, utterly nonchalant. “You said you wanted me. Thought I’d make it easier for you, since my baby is hurt.”
Alexia bit her bottom lip, trying and failing to hold back a laugh. She set her phone aside, eyes roaming with obvious appreciation. “Muppet… you are loca,” she said, shaking her head, though her hand was already sliding over to rest on your bare thigh.
You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What? I’m just being helpful. Efficient, even.”
Her laugh broke free then, warm and husky. She leaned in to kiss you, her lips lingering with that mix of amusement and hunger only she could pull off. When she pulled back, she whispered against your mouth, “You make me crazy… but I like it.”
And the way her hand squeezed your thigh told you she wasn’t about to waste the head start you’d given her. Heat flickered in Alexia’s eyes as she held your gaze, her voice dropping low and deliberate.
“Get the strap,” she whispered, her accent wrapping tightly around the words. Her hand squeezed your thigh, steady, commanding. “You ride me.”
Your breath caught, she hadn’t asked like that before, so direct, so sure. For a moment, you just stared at her, heart hammering, before you managed to whisper back, “You’re serious?” You weren't sure if she'd remembered your request last time you were here or whether it was just a pure want, but a big part of you just didn't care.
Alexia’s lips curved into a smirk, the kind that made your skin tingle. She gave a small nod. “Serious. I want… you. On me. Ahora.”
The authority in her tone sent a shiver straight through you. You slid off the bed quickly, padding to where you knew she kept it. When you turned back, Alexia had already shifted down on the mattress, her injured knee supported by the pillows you’d placed there earlier, her gaze locked on you like you were the only thing that existed.
Her eyes flicked over your naked form, her arms went behind her head as you helped her slip it on, lingering with a hunger that made your stomach flip. “Mírame,” she murmured as you climbed back onto the bed. “Show me.”
Her hands guided you as you straddled her hips, her touch firm but reverent, like she’d been waiting for this. When you sank down, your head tipped, a low, satisfied sound leaving your throat.
“Eso… perfect,” she whispered, hands sliding up your waist to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples as you began to move.
Every bounce, every shift of your hips was met with her grip tightening, her lips parting in ragged breathes, her eyes never leaving yours. Alexia didn’t just want you to ride her, she wanted you to own it, to take control in the one way she rarely let anyone.
And god, you loved giving her exactly what she asked for.
Alexia’s hands gripped your waist tighter, her breath catching as you rocked against her. Then her lips curved into a smirk, and she whispered, low and rough, “Turn. Quiero ver… your ass bounce.”
Your eyes widened a little, heat rushing through you at her command. Still, you obeyed, lifting yourself carefully before swiveling around to straddle her in reverse. Her hands immediately slid up your thighs, over your hips, settling firmly on your ass her large hands taking a handful of both cheeks easily and firmly.
“Dios…” she muttered under her breath as you sank back down onto her. “So sexy.”
With her hands guiding you, you began to move again, your rhythm picking up, skin slapping softly in the quiet of the room. Every time you bounced, Alexia’s fingers dug into your flesh, her moans mixing with the sharp little breaths she drew at the sight in front of her.
“You look… increíble,” she groaned, one hand coming up to smack your ass lightly, the sting making you gasp. “Again,” she warned, and when she did it again, a guttural laugh spilled from her. “You like, eh?”
You could only whimper in response, your body moving faster now, driven by the mix of her voice, her grip, and the pure friction overwhelming you.
Your hands gripped her ankles as you kept bouncing wanting that release but not wanting this moment to end, you looked over your shoulder as Alexia sat up, you caught the wince but it disappeared as quickly as it showed, her hand splayed on your chest as she pulled up to sit up, her lips trailed across your shoulder as you caught your breath, her hands roaming with new purpose. She murmured against your skin, “Mi novia, princesa… I want you… from behind.”
You blinked, lifting your head from her chest. “Ale, your knee, if you stand on it-”
But she was already shifting, determination in every movement, even as she reached for the side table to steady herself off the bed. “No importa,” she said firmly, eyes locked on you. “I don’t care. I need… this.”
You hesitated, chewing your lip. The last thing you wanted was for her to risk her injury worsening further just because she couldn’t resist taking control, venting her frustrations in an alternative way. But then her hands were on your hips, guiding you to kneel on the edge of the bed, her breath warm at your ear.
“If too much,” she whispered as she stood before you, low and steady, “you say… eleven. I stop.”
That made you smile, even as heat pooled in your stomach. “Eleven?”
Her lips brushed your neck, her voice husky. “Safe word, muppet. You… trust me?”
Your heart clenched at the seriousness under her tone. You nodded slowly. “Always.”
She kissed your cheek, helping you stand in front of her, she captured your lips in her own as her hands found your hips and guided you to turn away from her. Then pressed gently on your back until you were bent over the mattress. Her palms skimmed down your sides, over your waist, finally squeezing your ass with an appreciative hum. “So beautiful,” she breathed, her touch lingering, reverent. “Mine.”
The word made your body shiver. You let yourself sink into the sensation of her hands and mouth caressing you, her control tempered by the care in her movements. Despite her knee, despite everything, Alexia was precise, focused on you, on what you needed, on how you reacted.
Though your mind briefly flickered with worry for her, the reassurance of “eleven” hung between you, grounding you, making it safe to let go.
Her hands pressed firmly into your hips as she positioned herself behind you, her body close enough that you felt the heat of her skin against your back. “Bend more,” she whispered gently pushing on your back, voice low and commanding, and when you arched down onto your elbows, she let out a groan.
“Perfect… so good like this,” she muttered, sliding her hands up your spine before trailing them back down, squeezing your ass hard. “Mí princesa… I fuck you now, hmm? Rough… you agree?”
“Yes, baby,” you breathed, heat rushing through your body.
That was all the encouragement she needed. Her hips snapped forward as she entered you, the force of it making you gasp and grip the sheets. Alexia growled low in her throat, one hand fisting in your hair to pull your head back, the other guiding your hips to meet every thrust. “You take me so good,” she rasped, her broken English sharp and dirty. “So tight, so wet for me. You love when I fuck you like this.”
Each snap of her hips was rougher than the last, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room, your moans mixing with her low curses in Spanish. She leaned over you, her chest brushing your back, her mouth at your ear.
“Say it,” she ordered, breath hot. “Say who make you feel this.”
“You, baby!” you cried, pushing back against her, your body trembling. “You do—fuck—only you!”
Her hand smacked against your ass, making you jolt. “Louder,” she demanded, voice raw.
“You, Alexia! You make me feel so good!” you moaned
That pulled a guttural groan from her chest, her pace relentless now, her body grinding you down into the mattress. The pressure built inside you, every thrust hitting deep, every filthy word from her mouth pushing you closer to the edge.
“Cum for me, princesa,” she growled, dragging her nails down your side. “Cum on me, show me how much you love when I fuck you.”
The orgasm hit hard, tearing through you in waves that left you shaking and moaning her name. Alexia didn’t stop immediately, she rode it out with you, slower now but still deep, still in control, until you collapsed forward against the bed, breathless, your arms unable to hold you up any longer.
When she finally eased back, she kissed the curve of your spine, her hand smoothing over your ass in a soothing caress. “Good girl,” she whispered, softer now. “So good for me.”
And though your body still trembled, you turned your head enough to catch her gaze, a dazed smile tugging at your lips. “Fucking hell,” you panted. “Where did that come from?.”
Her answering smirk was wicked, but her kiss to your shoulder was tender, grounding. Her hand slid down between your spine again, her finger gently caressed your asshole, before she pushed gently.
Your eyes closed as your body stiffened your hand reaching behind to push slightly on her abs, "Alexia" you whispered
Her hand withdrew and as she positioned herself again, her hands gripping your hips, holding you steady. She slid inside you with deliberate gentleness, the familiar heat and friction making you gasp and arch.
Her hands drifted over your back as she move in and out of you agonisingly slowly, before she pressed a finger lightly against your asshole again. You tensed instinctively, a flicker of discomfort spiking through you.
“Mm…” you muttered, pulling slightly back.
“Trust me” Alexia whispered, her voice low and commanding. “Say eleven if too much…”
You hesitated, but the firmness in her tone, the dominance in her grip, and the lingering heat of her thrusts made you stay still. She eased her finger in slowly, giving you time to adjust, her eyes locked on yours.
At first it was sharp, unfamiliar, and you bit your lip, not liking that it hurt, but her gentle, deliberate movements began to turn the edge into something different. You felt a new, strange pleasure start to bloom, a deepening sensation that made your breath hitch and your hips press back against her.
“You… feel it?” she murmured, her other hand kneading your ass and thighs with careful pressure. “I know… you will like this, novia.”
You moaned softly, the discomfort melting into a surprising, intense pleasure as her thrusts combined with the teasing finger. “Ah… yes… Ale…”
Her grip on your hips tightened, her voice rough with need. “Good girl… take it…”
Each movement, each thrust, each careful press of her finger pushed you closer to the edge again, your body trembling with overstimulation. Alexia didn’t rush, her dominance tempered by the undeniable skill she had in knowing exactly what would make you melt.
Your moans grew louder, your grip on the sheets tight, your whole body alive to every sensation she was forcing and coaxing from you.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, hips pressing back instinctively. “Ah… Ale…” you whispered, gripping the sheets as your body adjusted to the new stimulation.
Her hands didn’t waver, holding you in place, keeping you grounded even as every nerve screamed in agony and pleasure. She leaned close, her forehead brushing your shoulder blade, her breath warm against your skin.
“You’re doing so well,” she murmured softly, not forcing you, just guiding you. “Just stay with me. I make you cum, I promise"
The combination of her thrusts and the careful pressure had your body coiling tighter, heat building in waves until it finally unraveled in an intense, shuddering orgasm. Your moans filled the room as you collapsed forward against the bed, trembling and completely spent, your chest rising and falling rapidly.
Alexia slowed, withdrawing her finger gently and holding your hips still for a moment, letting the intensity fade, her hands moving soothingly over your ass. “There,” she said quietly. “So good… you were perfect.”
You turned your head just enough to meet her gaze, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted. “Thank you,” you whispered.
She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, brushing her fingers through your hair. “I told you… you can trust me,” she said. “I’ll always take care of you.”
And in that quiet moment, the dominance and intensity had softened just enough for you to feel safe, cared for, and completely connected to her.
Alexia eased herself back onto the bed beside you, careful with her injured knee, and settled into the curve of your body. For a while, the two of you lay quietly, just the soft rise and fall of each other’s breathing filling the room. Her hand drifted lazily over your waist, her thumb brushing circles against your skin as she let the silence linger.
Finally, she broke it, her voice low and thoughtful. “You sure that… okay? You say you no like… Lily rough.”
You turned to look at her, making sure her eyes were locked on yours before speaking, every word deliberate. “Please… believe me when I say this,” you started, voice steady despite the lingering tremor of pleasure, “you are the best relationship I’ve ever had. You make me feel safe. You make me feel so comfortable and heard that I know… if I’d told you to stop, you would have.”
Alexia’s gaze softened but didn’t break, waiting for you to continue.
“I didn’t have that with her,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I enjoyed that so… so much because I can relax with you enough to enjoy it… because I know you have me.”
Her hand squeezed yours gently, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at her lips. “Mm… you mean… my girlfriend?”
You nodded, brushing your forehead against hers gently laughing. “Always.”
She hummed softly, leaning in to press a long, lingering kiss to your lips, and for a while, the world outside faded completely, leaving just the two of you, tangled together in trust, care, and the quiet intimacy of shared vulnerability.
☀️
The next morning, the quiet in the house was punctuated by soft footsteps and the rustle of clothes as Alexia got ready, her knee carefully supported by the brace. You hovered nearby, making sure she was steady, her crutches tucked against the wall ready for the short walk to the car.
Eli appeared in the doorway, her expression calm but attentive, holding a small bag of essentials for the hospital visit.
“Listo?” she asked in Spanish, glancing at both of you.
Alexia nodded, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “Yes… we go. My knee…” Her voice trailed off as she leaned slightly on your arm as she got to her feet.
You slipped your hand into hers, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “We’ve got you,” you said softly. “All of us.”
Outside, the morning sun was warm but not harsh, the gentle breeze carrying the faint scent of the city. Alexia leaned on you as you helped her down the short steps to the car, Eli following closely behind.
“Hospital quick,” Alexia muttered in her halting English, “get scan… know what.”
“Exactly,” you said, guiding her into the passenger seat. “We’ll take it slow. You don’t have to rush anything.”
Once Eli was seated in the back, the three of you drove the short distance to the hospital. Alexia kept her gaze fixed on the passing streets, her lips pressed together in quiet concentration, while you rubbed gentle circles on the back of her neck, just enough to reassure her without being intrusive.
When you arrived, the staff immediately recognised her and led the way to the imaging department. You stayed close, adjusting her crutches, keeping your hand at the small of her back as she navigated each corridor.
“Ready?” you asked softly when you reached the door of the scan room.
Alexia took a steadying breath, exhaling slowly before she whispered, “Yes… ready. With my girlfriend,” giving your hand a quick squeeze.
Eli smiled from the doorway, silently supportive as Alexia was guided into the machine. You remained by her side the entire time, holding her hand through every adjustment and breath, murmuring little reassurances and kisses to the top of her head when she let you.
Even with the uncertainty of the scan ahead, Alexia seemed calmer with you there your presence a steady anchor as she faced what could have been a frightening moment alone.
You settled into the waiting room chairs, Eli beside you, the sterile hum of hospital lights above and the distant beeping of machines around. The smell of antiseptic was sharp, but you didn’t mind, it was the quiet, the pause, the stillness that made your nerves tighten.
Eli didn’t speak a word of English, and you didn’t speak enough Spanish to fully chat, but that didn’t matter. As you shifted in your seat, trying to steady your thoughts, you felt Eli's hand brush against yours. She had gently taken your hand and rested it in her lap, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, careful rhythm.
You froze for a moment, unsure if it was meant for you, for her, or if it was a shared gesture of support for Alexia, who was inside the scan room. The warmth of her touch, simple and unspoken, made your chest tighten in a way that felt like comfort and connection all at once.
You gave a small squeeze, more to acknowledge her gesture than to initiate anything, and Eli’s lips twitched in a near smile. No words passed, but somehow the silence between you felt full of understanding.
Your eyes flicked toward the door Alexia had gone through, imagining her lying still for the scan, bracing herself, minutes passed like hours, and you kept your hand there, letting the gentle pressure settle you, letting it be your quiet reassurance while Alexia faced the unknown inside.
The waiting room door opened, and Alexia stepped out slowly, her crutches clicking softly on the floor, her knee still clearly uncomfortable, but her eyes immediately sought yours.
The first thing you noticed wasn’t the brace or the slight wince when she shifted her weight it was the expression on her face. Relief, a little apprehension, and that quiet vulnerability that made your chest tighten all at once.
“Hey…” you whispered, reaching out as she approached, letting her take your hand and gently squeeze it.
“Scan… done,” she muttered, her broken English clipped but steady. She gave a small, tired smile. “Knee… not worst.”
You exhaled, letting the tension you hadn’t realised you were holding slip away. “That’s good,” you said softly, leaning closer to brush a quick kiss against her temple. “Let's get you home and you can tell me all what the doctor said there”
Alexia’s lips curved into a faint grin, and she leaned into you for a second, resting her forehead briefly against yours. “Muppet… you say home,” she murmured. “Girlfriend… good.”
☀️
The elevator hummed softly as it carried the three of you down, the stainless steel walls reflecting faint glints of the overhead lights. You leaned into Alexia instinctively, you found yourself need the reassurance from her so only god knows what she felt, and the warmth of her body against yours sent an unexpected thrill through you. You pressed a kiss to her jacket clad shoulder before you caught yourself, shocked, showing signs of affection in public wasn’t you, in front of close friends maybe but not infant of her mami of all people.
Alexia’s lips brushed your ear, her voice low and teasing. “No move.”
You froze, eyebrows knitting together. “Why?” you whispered back, curiosity piqued.
No answer came, just the faintest press of her body against yours. You finally risked a small shift, turning your head just slightly, and that’s when you saw it. On Alexia's phone was a picture of you and her in the reflection of the elevator mirror, Alexia was holding her phone up, snapping a picture of the two of you. The angle cleverly hid both your faces, but the intimacy of the pose, the way you were leaning into her, was undeniable.
“What… what are you doing?” you murmured, trying to process it.
She grinned mischievously, swiping the photo onto her Instagram story. “What influencers say… soft launch?”
Your jaw dropped. “Ale! What did they give you in there? Did the doctors give you… something?”
Alexia laughed quietly, her hand brushing yours as she lowered the phone. “No…” Her eyes sparkled with that same impish energy that had made you fall for her in the first place.
You shook your head, laughing in disbelief, a blush creeping up your neck. “I cannot believe you posted that.”
“Shh,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Soft launch. No one see your face, still private, just not secret”
And you couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head at how entirely, completely Alexia Putellas had gotten under your skin even in the middle of a hospital trip.
☀️
You curled up on the sofa, legs tucked under you, your cup of tea warming your hands as the steam curled lazily into the quiet living room. Across from you, Alexia was out cold on the other sofa, an ice pack balanced carefully on her knee, her lips parted in soft sleep. The rise and fall of her chest was steady, peaceful, and you couldn’t help but smile at how utterly unbothered she looked.
Your phone resting against your thigh, and when you unlocked it, the first thing that filled your feed was chaos. Alexia’s story, the elevator mirror picture she’d snapped, was everywhere. Screenshots, reposts, zoom ins, blurry attempts to decipher the girl half-tucked into her side.
“WHO IS SHE??”
“Ale soft-launched someone???”
“No way this is just a friend.”
“Her hand placement tho 👀”
Thread after thread, comments piling up. Some convinced it was a teammate, some insisting it must be 'just a friend.' No one had clocked it was you. Yet.
You let out a little laugh under your breath, sipping your tea before scrolling again. It was strange, your life had been under scrutiny before of course it had because of your job, but never like this, never tangled with someone else’s world that you were yet to fully understand.
Your eyes flicked up to Alexia, who stirred slightly but didn’t wake, still blissfully unaware of the storm her soft launch had caused. You shook your head, amused and a little anxious, whispering across the quiet room,
“Putellas… you’ve caused absolute chaos.” Then, softer still, as though confessing to her sleeping form, “And I kind of love it.”
☀️
Your phone lit up on the cushion beside you, vibrating against the fabric. You glanced at the screen it was Carmen.
You adjusted your tea mug onto the coffee table carefully before sliding your finger across the phone. “Hey, Carms,” you said softly, eyes flicking to Alexia still asleep on the sofa.
“Hey, you,” Carmen’s voice came through, upbeat but edged with worry. “I just finished training. I wanted to check in, how’s Ale? We were all talking about her in the locker room, Patri, Pina, everyone. She’s been on our minds.”
You exhaled, leaning back into the sofa cushions. “She’s frustrated,” you admitted, glancing at Alexia’s still form, the ice pack slipping slightly down her knee. “But she’s okay. We should get her scan results back soon. The lady who did it… she said it wasn’t as bad as they first thought. Maybe a month, two tops, but it’s not official yet.”
You could practically hear Carmen’s sigh of relief down the line. “That’s good. God, we were all worried it was another ACL. She deserves a break from all that.”
You smiled faintly, curling your fingers into the throw draped across your lap. “Yeah, tell me about it. She doesn’t sit still very well, though, does she? I think being told to rest will drive her crazier than the actual injury.”
Carmen chuckled knowingly. “Oh, absolutely. Ale and patience? Not exactly best friends, but she’s lucky she’s got you there. Keeps her from climbing the walls.”
Your chest warmed at that, even if you didn’t reply right away, instead watching Alexia shift a little, her face nuzzling deeper into the pillow as she slept.
“You’ll let me know as soon as you hear, yeah?” Carmen added gently.
“Of course. I’ll keep you posted,” you said, lowering your voice instinctively. “For now, just tell the girls she’s hanging in there. And… don’t worry them too much. She doesn’t want everyone fussing.”
Carmen laughed again, “Easier said than done with this team.”
You grinned, shaking your head. “Yeah, I figured. I’ll talk to you soon, Carms.”
When you hung up, you placed the phone back down, sinking deeper into the sofa with a quiet sigh picking up a magazine. Across the room, Alexia stirred again, her brow twitching faintly like she was dreaming.
Your phone barely had time to hit the cushion before it started buzzing again you shook your head with a small smile, picking it back up. “You just hung up,” you teased as you answered.
On the other end, Carmen didn’t bother with pleasantries. “NOT THE FUCKING SOFT LAUNCH! WHO EVEN IS SHE! WHAT THE FUCK! YOU’VE BROKEN ALEXIA PUTELLAS!” she bellowed, and you had to bite back a laugh, imagining her pacing in the locker room.
“This is technically your fault,” you said smoothly, keeping your eyes on the magazine.
“HOW?” Carmen demanded, incredulous.
“You insisted I talk to her at your wedding, so it’s all on you if you really think about it,” you teased, letting your grin take over.
Carmen paused, as if trying to process this, then muttered, “You’ve lost the plot just as much as she has.”
You smirked, flicking the magazine page. “Is now a bad time to tell you she asked me to be her girlfriend… a couple of weeks ago?”
There was a long, sharp intake of breath. “WHAT?! WEEKS?! AND YOU’RE JUST TELLING ME THIS NOW? ARE YOU MARRIED? IS THERE MINI ALEXIA’S RUNNING AROUND? WHAT ELSE ARE YOU NOT TELLING ME?”
You laughed outright this time, shaking your head. “No mini Alexias yet, I promise and don’t worry I’ll let you know if there’s ever a tiny Putellas running around.”
Carmen groaned, half exasperated, half laughing. “I cannot believe this.”
You just leaned back, still smiling. “Well believe it”
Carmen’s voice softened, still incredulous but warmer. “Fine… fine. But you owe me the full story over dinner. Every little detail.”
“Deal,” you said, laughing again. “But right now, you need to let Alexia nap before I get grumpy Alexia to deal with”
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