#ap11
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》 Alexia Putellas x Reader
》 words count: +1k
》 I'd choose the devil I know over the heaven I don't
The end starts with you finding the ring.
“Alexia, I swear to your good knee, if you’re not ready I’m gonna sell your Ballon d’Or”, your announcement resonating through the rooms.
You’ve been ready for an entire hour now, beaming and excited for the opportunity to present with your teammates a special award named after your captain. The only thing missing is your perfectionist girlfriend still hidden in the bathroom.
When you open the door, you cannot believe your eyes.
Alexia’s tattooed back is exposed in the criminally low backless dress she’s in, sure, but her hair is still dripping wet and she’s fighting with a makeup brush. Clearly losing, her frown is a well known hint for you.
She’s not ready and now you have to find your way on the black market.
“Need help?”
“No”
“Yes, vamos a llegar tarde” (we’re late)
“No voy a llegar tarde si ni quiero ir” (I can’t be late if I don’t wanna go in the first place)
Your chuckle filling the room is enough to make the blonde smirk, but you know her well enough to read the subtle lines on her face. Her worries are clear, the reasons to be discovered and a solution to be found.
Taking place behind her figure, you set your hands on her sides and plant a couple of strategically placed kisses on her back and shoulders. Her fitted form relaxes right away under your lips.
When your eyes meet in the mirror it's like a story is being narrated, an understanding of each other that goes beyond big words and great gestures but holds the deep love shared.
Your fingers move to untangle the blonde’s wet hair, taking the time to dry and straighten each lock just as she likes.
“Lo siento” (I’m sorry)
Shy Alexia is a version of her few people meet, her stance a lot less intimidating than the one she portrays on the field or in front of hundreds of cameras.
“No tienes nada de que arrepentirte, mi corazón” (Nothing to be sorry for)
“I lost time in the gym and I lost time in the shower and I guess I just don’t wanna go”, the English sentence giving away how much thought she put into it.
The catalan turns to look directly into your eyes for the first time all day, you realise. She really doesn’t want to go to this event, but your excitement and anticipation must have helped hide it throughout the week.
“Eres preciosa, mi amor” (You’re beautiful), she simply states, taking in the perfectly ironed black dress you’re wearing and the meticulously braided hair framing your face.
You smile at her, you love her.
“I know you don’t like the idea of this award, I know you don’t want us handing it to you with a carefully drafted speech”
“¡Lo escribiste!” (You wrote it, didn’t you?)
“Jana helped, all the team did”
Alexia’s eyebrow rises and you don't miss the fact she has a little bit more makeup on than usual, a sight she’s putting an effort.
“I supervised, don’t worry”
“No es reconfortante” (It’s no reassuring)
But her shoulders are relaxed, her frown no longer creasing her beautiful face. The blonde is calmer now and you take it as a victory she never actually asked you to ditch the all thing and hide together under a blanket with a mindless dating show in the background.
“Lo leerás?” (Will you read it?)
“Banned me to even come close to a microphone”, to be fair, it was a single accident and they should’ve not let the anchor’s line open when you just won a championship and your girlfriend’s literally glowing.
She bursts out laughing and you know she’s ready.
Almost ready.
“Take me the white heels while I finish esto”, her fingers moving somehow awkwardly around her mouth, “Y estamos listos!” (And we’re ready to go).
You place a soft but firm kiss on her lips, leaving for her shoes rack.
You’re looking for a pair of heels, one she hates to wear but well designed and a perfect fit with her dress. One she doesn’t wear much so it’s probably hidden in a box in the back of the closet.
That’s why you’re looking for a hidden box of shoes.
That’s where you notice a velvet little box.
That’s how you find the ring.
It’s a beautiful ring. Stunning cut, your precise size. A modest but expertly crafted gem complementing the simple band. It’s the perfect ring.
You don’t like shiny thing, Alexia could ask you to marry her with paper or grass from Camp Nou and you’re gonna say yes regardless.
But that’s exactly the problem.
You love her, you really do. You love her so much you gladly do whatever she asks, if she wants it enough to ask. You keep her love above your own and that’s fine, you’re happy with it. What she loves comes before what you love, naturally following immediately after anyway.
And what she loves the most is usually you, so you never questioned it.
However, when her love starts coming despite yours, you realise you can’t keep doing it.
The shift is difficult to perceive, coming at such a silent but excruciating pace that’s impossible to predict and devastating to take in.
The bomb dropped on you in the form of a tiny jewellery box that detonated when opened, shining ring inside.
“Està Narnia?” (You found Narnia?)
Closing the box and effectively concealing the ring from your gaze it’s a switch off. The silence that usually preempts a devastating explosion is coming after it, this one time.
“I’m ready!”
When she walks out of the bathroom, stunning as ever, you just stare. You never loved someone as much as you love her, that is obvious for a while now.
You never loved and you will never love someone as much as you love her.
Not even yourself.
“Estás bien?” (Are you okay?)
“T’estimo” (I love you)
Shining eyes almost give away all the meaning behind your words, but the captain fondly kisses you and it’s all good again.
Alexia takes the heels from your hands, when you manage to find them is not clear in your head, and sits on the bed. Your fingers intertwine as you bend on your knees and carefully tie the long white laces around her ankles.
“You good?”, she holds one of your hands and her stare is searching straight through your soul.
She has a ring hidden in a box, how long ago did she buy it?
“Let’s get you this award, mi corazón”
She wants to marry you, when will she ask?
Both your holds are firm and kind, she is calmed and ready. Now, somehow, she’s even happy to go to this event if you keep holding her hand like that.
If she asks, you will say yes.
#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso#alexia#ap11#here we go again#with a flashback i think#so theres fluff#my wo(rd)so#Spotify#now playing universe
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playing for keeps – chapter one
alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader
status: ongoing
(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two]
word count: 2.9k
The darkness lurched and a sensation of falling brought you back to your senses. There was a momentary confusion–as was the case after leaving the half-conscious state–but it didn’t take you long to piece the world back together. A shudder disturbed the panel beneath your feet and you felt the running tremor that followed accompanied by a low rumble you could barely hear through the stressing pressure in your ears. You blinked your eyes open and there was a rawness to them that made you squint, taking in a familiar scene that greeted you past the window as you did.
A deep purple tint veiled the brilliance of the sun, casting the world into the cool calm of dusk, as the remainder of the day streaked the horizon with its fading light. You recognised the sloping silhouettes of the mountains that stood tall in the distance, seeming all the more greater against the early evening sky, comfortingly familiar and inviting in their grand stillness.
The intercom played a three-tone melody followed by a voice that filtered through the static.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Barcelona. The local time is six hours ahead of the Newark area, and it is currently approaching six in the evening. Please remain seated with your seatbelts on until the ‘Fasten Seatbelt’ sign has been switched off. It has been our pleasure to serve you on this flight. Thank you, and a very good evening.”
In the moments that followed, chatter erupted all around you. Tearing your gaze away from the window, finally, you unbuckled your seatbelt but made no move to get up, opting instead to rest your cheek on your hand.
The thing that made window seats great–apart from the view, of course–was the fact that people who were in no rush to get off the plane wouldn’t feel compelled to move to avoid obstructing other passengers. And you, who was normally eager to stretch your legs after a particularly long flight such as this one, very much needed another moment to gather yourself. So you watched on as the other passengers stood and shuffled about, opening and closing the overhead bins to retrieve their luggage.
A restlessness crept over you. It erupted from somewhere deep down your gut to your limbs, and the feeling had you longing to jump out of your seat–to run–but you stayed put. There you waited, drumming a rhythm with your fingers against your thigh as your other leg bounced to the same chaotic pace. And without any bidding, the scenes you’d thought of before you sank into the nap you’d just woken up from flashed through your mind, relentless in their effort to tear you apart again.
You craned your neck to the side to see through the window. Somewhere at the far side of the airport, a yellow light flashed from a parked plane. It reminded you of fireflies and–
No.
You halted the memory and instead resorted to counting the number of times it blinked to keep your mind occupied.
“Excuse me, is everything okay?”
You blinked.
Turning away from the window to the direction of the voice, you saw an attendant looking at you with a curious expression.
“Yes,” you stuttered out.
Behind her you noticed that all of the seats were empty, and probably for quite some time now, so you gave her a quick apology when you stood to gather your belongings. You began for the exit after closing the overhead cabin but the stewardess stopped you again with another question.
“You’re a professional footballer?”
You looked at her over your shoulder. Your surprise at her question must have been clear on your face because she looked down at your duffel bag and then back at you with just a hint of amusement by the way her brow was lifted.
Oh. You forgot about that.
You hefted your Barça bag over your shoulder as you replied, “Uh, yeah. Are you much of a fan?”
“I love it. Love watching and playing it whenever I can. I’m more of a Madridista, though.”
“Oh. That’s a shame.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes at your dry humor but without any hint of offense.
The both of you continued to the exit.
“What position do you play?”
“Keeper.”
“Very cute. How long have you been playing for Barça?”
“I’m just newly transferred, actually.”
By this point, the both of you had arrived at the plane’s open door.
“Oh, really? Well, I wish you all the best for your season. And I hope this doesn’t come across as unprofessional but is it okay if I asked you for a picture?”
“Thank you. And no, not at all.”
After you posed for the photo, she thanked you. You felt her fingers brush over yours as she took back her phone before she sent you a playful wink. Her beauty attracted you, yes, and years ago such blatant advances from a fine woman would’ve been received warmly by you but not anymore–especially not today. So instead, you gave her a polite, almost apologetic, nod and parted ways with a small smile as you shuffled out of the plane.
It was a haze, your journey through the gates, the baggage reclaim zone, and the checkpoints. The lights and images melted together in one big blur, the noises coalesced to a low drone, before the world focused again when your phone screen lit up.
‘I’m in the arrival hall,’ it said.
Despite yourself, your heartbeat picked up upon seeing it and a familiar restlessness made you shiver. You shook your head, rolling your luggage towards the arrival hall, tapping your thumb against the handle of your roller, the strap of your duffel bag clutched tightly in your other hand.
With every step, your heart jumped in anticipation.
You turned the corner and your chest stilled.
And at the sight you beheld, you were gone. It was like you were seventeen all over again.
To you, it was as if the world became brighter, the colors and shapes now sharper, and she was the light that made everything that much clearer.
A thought rang clear in your mind, Oh, god, she’s right there. And she’s so beautiful.
She was leaning back against one of the columns that lined the terminal, the darkness of her outfit a stark contrast against the white paint which made her all the more easier to spot. Her eyes were trained on her phone as she tapped away at it with a small, soft smile adorning her face; that, for some reason, made your heart ache. A few locks of her hair escaped the hold of her ear and they framed her face in such a way that made her look inviting and at the same time accentuated that air of untouchability that seemed to be always present around her. Some people recognised her as they walked past, their heads turning and fingers pointing, but none of them seemed to be inclined to disturb her, which you were grateful for.
Just one more minute, one more moment. You wanted to take her in as she was for just that bit longer.
It was as if she sensed you because, not a second later, she looked up to scan the crowd briefly, and then you were locked in her gaze. There was still quite a distance left between the two of you but even from where you stood, you saw her face lit up to a beaming grin as she met your eyes. She tucked her phone into her back pocket and gingerly pushed off from the column to approach you, sidestepping the people in her way with ease.
The next thing you knew, the familiar scent of wintergreen and mint, mixed with the faint sweetness of cinnamon and vanilla, washed over your senses. And the warm weight of her arms and body was all you could think about–could feel. Then a peck branded your cheek that left them feeling heated despite the dampness of her hair against your skin there.
Squinting through the sudden rawness of your eyes, you wrapped your arms around the strength of her, looping them around her waist as your hands found purchase on the small of her back. You hid your face in the safety of her neck, just like you’d done many times over the years. Like this, it was as if the two of you were still best of friends. Like you still knew each other like you used to.
“Hello, pretty girl,” she breathed against your ear. “Welcome back.”
As she said this, you knew in your mind–believed–that you were finally home. And the thought was enough to steal and return your breath to you.
You whispered.
“It’s good to be home, Alexia.”
———
The car ride was silent. It had started to drizzle not long ago and it had grown heavy enough that Alexia needed to turn the windshield wipers on. The wipers made a steady rhythm when they met the hood of the car and made a slight squeaking noise as they moved up and down the windshield–two of the few sounds that made the air in the car bearable.
The world outside the passenger side’s window had devolved to blobs and blurs from the droplets that clung to the glass. Still, you kept your gaze there as guilt gnawed at your gut the same way you worked your lower lip between your teeth.
The thing was, the walk to the car wasn’t bad at all. The both of you had chatted while Alexia led you to where she parked her car, your duffel bag hoisted casually over her shoulder despite your protests. But the moment the doors of her car slammed shut, so did you–it was as if all the weight of the past few months–exacerbated by the restless plane ride, finally hit you.
And to Alexia’s credit, she’d done everything she could to remove the silence. She asked you about your flight (again) and when that didn’t work, she began to talk football. She asked you about your last season, about how you won your league and wondered about how that must’ve felt like for you. Alexia briefly turned the topic to Barça and sprinkled in some funny stories she hadn’t told you over the sparse messages you’d exchanged that you reacted to. You were just about to settle into the conversation when she inquired about your negotiations with the club and how you felt about returning to Barça; she solicited the reason that made you inclined to come back. At that, you clammed up again. Alexia didn’t seem to notice because she began to mention things you used to do or like–things she didn’t know you didn’t do nor like now–in the quest to get you talking.
For each question she asked, you’d given her back the same kind of nothing: a yes, a no, a hum. The simple drizzle had turned to steady rain pattering against the roof, and the calming sound did nothing to ease the growing tension in the car. Despite the desire to engage in a conversation with Alexia, it was as if all of your thoughts–or at least the capacity to string them together–were hiding behind the dark curtain of your mind, the heavy veil tailored from the same fabric that weighed in your chest. Weariness pervaded your bones and your soul, and it exhausted you past the point of exchanging pleasantries and niceness, a task now seemingly impossible.
So you excused yourself from the conversation. You told her it was jet lag. Alexia nodded in understanding, but the light in her eyes had dimmed, and she trained them on the road with deliberate focus, her lips tightening to a line fit for silence.
Despite not having spent time with her like you used to the last two years you’d been away, the language of her face and body was still familiar to you–and how could they not when they’d carve themselves into the tissues of your mind?–enough to know that she wasn’t convinced at all with what you said. Because maybe, just maybe, you were to her as she was to you: familiar.
The thought provided little comfort, and the guilt felt heavier, another stone dropped into the pitcher.
And the feeling gave way to another thought, unpleasant in the way it told you what you already knew. Alexia took time to drive you to your apartment instead of resting for tomorrow’s practice, and this was how you treat her? How nice.
Then another.
Just like how you treated Olivia, right?
Your eyes closed from the sting that followed, a stitch torn from a newly-sewn wound. And you tried to prevent yourself from crying, but the darkness only served to rub salt to the cut as it made the fleeting images clearer and the words ever louder.
“I’m so stupid! So stupid…”
“Go. Please, just go. You won’t find happiness here.”
A touch to your arm startled you back to the present. The jostle from the gasp you let out was enough to make a tear fall, and you turned to Alexia who already had her eyes on you; her face graced with concern and a question.
The car had stopped, and now parked outside of your apartment complex.
“What’s wrong?” Came the gentle question.
Your heart lurched at the look she laid upon you, followed by an ache, a longing for the old times–back when you used to tell each other everything. But how could you tell her about this? About what led to this? When the fire from that night remained, glowing patiently as an ember in the dark, waiting for the wind to call her name again–to set her aflame again?
Another tear escaped your eye before you could turn away, which you brushed off with the back of your hand before you met Alexia’s gaze again.
“Nothing. I’m just–I’m sorry for being a bitch.” You said with a small, apologetic smile.
Alexia traced some invisible path along your face, regarding you with a pensive look. The moment took long enough that you considered she’d press you for information. Instead, she teased softly with a half-smile, “Don’t worry about it. What else is new?”
Your shoulders eased down a bit.
“Still a smart-mouth, I see,” you laughed with more than a bit of air, “Indeed, what else is new?”
At that, Alexia chuckled with you but the pressing silence returned.
Then Alexia sighed.
“How long has it been since we’ve played together?”
Her brows knitted together at her own question as she leaned back against her seat, putting her hands behind her head which pulled the sleeves of her shirt up just enough to reveal the tattoo on the underside of her arm.
You casted your eyes aside, your gaze fleeting to the unlit window of your apartment.
A memory intruded your mind again.
“I’m not sure,” you half-whispered.
“Two years.” Something in her tone told that she knew that you knew, but she didn’t call you out on it. But it seemed she was more inclined to call you out on something you said a long time ago. “I hope you’ve made peace with whatever made you leave all the way to the States of all places.”
You looked at her. Alexia’s brow was raised in silent expectation. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on.”
“‘Come on’, what?”
“You were offered a place in Lyon–in Bayern. Bayern! When I heard you were leaving, I went, ‘That’s it. Bayern has her’. Imagine my surprise when you said you were going to America.” Alexia scoffed as she gestured in the air with her hands for emphasis. A pause before she continued, “Now, tell me why you really went away.”
“I already told you.”
“Yeah. What was it you said? ‘I’ve always wanted to see what the competition is like there’? For someone who talked about Neuer and Bayern all the time second to Barça, it always made me think how and when the NWSL crossed your mind.”
Guess you don’t know me that well then.
You bit your tongue before you could say it. Instead, you shrugged and sighed, hunching forward so you could rest your elbows on your knees, fingers clasping together as you twiddled your thumbs. “If you don’t want to believe what I said, that’s up to you. I stand by it.”
Alexia regarded you with that same deciphering look she’d been giving you the whole night. And as if she finally understood that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with you, she shook her head and sank back down in her seat.
“Indulge me, then. Tell me, what’s the verdict?” Alexia drawled, dripping with thinly-veiled sarcasm.
It wasn’t like home.
“Really appreciate the judgment all over your tone, Alexia.” You replied drily then added, “And it was great, thank you very much.”
Alexia tilted her chin up to release a laugh. A strand of her hair fell out of place and she brushed it back with a finger.
“Well, you should tell me more about how you enjoyed yourself, then. I’m sure you have a lot of stories to tell.” You heard the unspoken words, ‘Stories you never bothered to tell me through the phone or during the instances we’d met during the time you were away.’
I would’ve enjoyed it better if you were there.
“Where do you want me to begin?” If Alexia heard the weary sigh in your tone, she made no indication she did.
“I don’t know. Where do you want to start?”
I went away because of you.
“At this point, we’ll be here all night.” You laughed.
Alexia chuckled, and then softly she said, “Just tell me anything then.”
Distance didn’t work. My heart is still yours.
You hummed, thinking of a story, as you finally eased back on your seat and then you began.
“Well…”
#ap11#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#woso x reader#my writing#a/n: that benfica vs barca match today was definitely something#also not sure when ill be able to post chapter two but i hope you guys enjoy this <3
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The most beautiful smile 🥰😍
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this photoshot has me weak 🫠
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Im so scarred from the transfers, I thought this was another and I damn near died.
Yeah, I’m traumatized.
#next time I should read before breaking my own heart#woso#woso soccer#woso community#barcelona femeni#barca femeni#alexia putellas segura#alexia putellas#AP11
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The journalist told her that there are people from the Spanish Federation there and she cut them off by saying next.
You tell them Alexia!
#alexia putellas#ap11#La reina#fcb femeni#fcb femení#barcelona femeni#espwnt#Spain wnt#RFEF#spanish woso
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ALEXIAAAA
#la nala#alexia putellas#alexia putellas imagines#alexia putellas imagine#ap11#barcelona wfc#barca#barcelona women
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Show them how it's done 🤞🏽
So proud of her 💙❤️
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woso blurbs masterlist
🫶🏻 🫶🏻 🫶🏻 🫶🏻 🫶🏻
✨ II alessia russo masterlist II AR23
✨ II leah williamson masterlist II LW6
✨ II mary earps masterlist II ME27
✨ II alexia putellas masterlist II AP11
✨ II a.russo & l.williamson x reader II
the wrangler
chess pawn
jersey jealousy
best behaviour
you’re not doing it right
i licked it so its mine
seeing red
flu season (2)
offence and defence
switch up
✨ II e.toone x reader II ET7
red vs blue
sorry seems to be the hardest word
headlock
tiktok edits
drama queen
rage room
✨ || m.león & i.engen x reader II
teasing
mario kart
bed bound
attention thief
✨ || m.león x reader II ML4
coloring book
you love me, really
✨ || k.mccabe x reader II KM15
lovergirl
nutmeg
nail artist
start a family
shirt tugs
secret softie
hot in here
✨ II m.bright x reader II MB4
my captain
masterchef
fa cup final
flat packs
✨ II l.bronze x reader II LB15
the downpour
girlfriend
girlfriend ficlet
✨ II s.blackstenius x reader II SB25
tongue tied
my love you’re forgetting something
you look like you need a hug
✨ II g.stanway x reader II GS8
behind the camera
my needy girl
colin the caterpillar
inkmaster
crucial touch
fake girlfriend
✨ II g.clinton x reader II GC11
you never asked
restless
✨ II a.kennedy x reader II AK14
panini
secrets out
golden hour
competitive streak
✨ || m.le-tissier x reader II MLT4
trick or treat
hotshot
✨ II a.bonmatí x reader II AB14
half sized
stop taking signs home when you win a game
not helping
you're comfy
✨ II k.cooney-cross x reader II KCC23
airport flowers
i don't know how you managed to make me your girlfriend
couch nap
forgotten coffee
for kids
✨ II e.carpenter x reader II EC21
roadrunner
✨ II j.hermoso x reader II JH10
still sleeping
beachball
princess treatment
pool day
✨II n.charles x reader II NC21
sweet jealousy
captain charles
✨II j.fleming x reader II JF17
regular visitor
✨ II s.kerr x reader II SK20
crumble
✨ II barcelona femení x reader II
stuck
tiny silver flash
✨ II awfc x reader II
drop kick
travel buddies
april fools
✨ II p.guijarro x reader II PG12
how bad is it
✨ II m.rodriguez x reader II MR1
jump scare
✨ || h.raso x reader II HR16
world class
#woso x reader#alessia russo x reader#woso#woso blurbs#lucy bronze x reader#mary earps x reader#millie bright x reader#leah williamson x reader#ella toone x reader#georgia stanway x reader#sam kerr x reader#alexia putellas x reader#mapi leon x reader#ingrid engen x reader#grace clinton x reader#jessie fleming x reader#alanna kennedy x reader#jenni hermoso x reader
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My Masterlist!!
(Requests currently open.)
Rules for my fics below:
Here.
LW6
(Leah Williamson.)
-Short Sight. -P2(coming soon)
-Would that be so bad?
KM15
(Katie McCabe)
-“Do I have something to worry about?”
AR23
(Alessia Russo)
-Don’t ever say I didn’t love you. Of Course I do.
ET18
(Ella Toone.)
-That Goldmine Changed You.
VM11
(Vivianne Miedema.)
-You’re ill.
OB22
(Ona Batlle.)
-I hate the way i can’t hate you.
-Not so cocky now, eh?
AP11
(Alexia Putellas.)
-“Ay Dios Mio.” P2
-Infatuation. P2.
CG6
(Charli Grant.)
-Because I love you too much.
DVD10
(Danielle Van De Donk)
-Mean
GC8
(Grace Clinton)
-You like me?
Teen!Reader.
-If only I could hold you.
-Disgust.
*******
Please read the rules if you want to request a fic! Also please be mindful of requesting anything seriously angsty (i.e sh, ed’s or mental health issues) and put a TW! at the start of the request as I may not be in the correct headspace to write major angst at that moment in time.
Thank you all for the continued support on my fics and for taking the time to read my work. :)
#woso#football#futbol#footy#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso x reader#writer is not english#futból#angst#fluff#leah williamson#ella toone#alessia russo#alexia putellas#vivianne miedema#gorgeous women
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now playing: Don't Tell My Mom
< track 3 || track 5 >
》 Alexia Putellas x Reader (past), María León x Reader (platonic), Leah Williamson x Reader (platonic)
》 words count: +1.5k
》 what you don't know won't hurt you, oh / Mama, I'll lie, just for you
As soon as your phone lights up with a Facetime call, you know.
No warning message, no text just to make sure you’re free to talk. A cold Facetime request from María, one of your best friends but definitely someone who means trouble if calling like that.
Launching yourself on your sofa unceremoniously, you accept the call and your fate as Mapi’s grin appears on your broken screen. How can she be so smug even miles away goes beyond you.
“Who died?”
Not the most warm way to start a conversation.
“Hola a ti también, nena” (Hello to you too)
“You look awful”
She looks amazing, she’s practically glowing and you’re happy for her.
Also, you’re happy for yourself too. It’s a relief this is not the scolding call you’ve been waiting for quite some time. It’s coming, you can feel it, but Ingrid enters the frame and you immediately know this is good news.
“Tienes que ser buena conmigo” (You should be nicer to me)
Mapi really isn’t the type to tiptoe around something so you don’t get why she didn’t start this conversation by screaming the news. Or making the journey and knocking on your door directly.
You let her be, she probably wants to enjoy it.
“Why should I? I moved to another country just to avoid it”
“Nena”, she pauses and her smile dims for a moment.
She knows English better than she lets everyone believe, so she gets the quip - or your attempt to joke about it. You’re not sure if it’s because of what you said or something else entirely, the two of you have yet to talk about the reason why you’re single and in another country.
Your transfer was eventful, to say at least. The faded blonde didn’t handle it very well, having taken you under her wing when you first moved from a mid-table club in your home country to Barcelona Femení - after a couple of years on a loan in different leagues too.
María’s the one who welcomed you in the locker room with rapid words and contagious enthusiasm. She kept talking with you in Spanish, even if you needed an entire year to be able to hold a simple conversation in your third language, but she’s someone you relied on since the very beginning.
María’s also the first one to realise something was growing between you and Alexia, the first - and the loudest - to cheer when you mindlessly kissed in front of the team mid night out, the first one to give you both a shovel talk.
Sometimes it’s way too easy to forget how many people you can hurt with a decision that’s just your own to make.
You feel the need to take the conversation back on track.
“When is the wedding?”
“¿Quién te lo dijo?!” (Who told you?!)
“Your stupid face”, thankfully the Spaniard gets her brightness back at your words, “And I can see that huge rock even from here!”
Ingrid is matching a beaming smile, moving her hand closer to the camera and you can’t hold back your own joy. They truly deserve the devotion and support they share with one another. If you have to be happy for someone else’s love, you’re glad it’s for them.
And that ring is impressive.
The memory of a beautiful ring hidden in a shoe box in the back of a closet makes you shiver. Is it still there or she got rid of it as first thing after dropping you off at the airport? Does Mapi know about it?
“Show off, that’s worth my value”
“Tonterías!, no eres tan buena” (Bullshit, you’re not even that good!)
“You are, she’s just too proud to admit it”, at Ingrid’s first words you immediately remember why lately she’s the one you like the most of the two.
“Haz la maleta y no quiero excusas, volverás aquí” (Pack you beg and no excuses, you’re coming back here)
Mapi’s witty remark is not missed, she saw you growing up and developing your very own unhealthy coping mechanism. Maybe you have a tendency to avoid confrontation, what about that? She goes for any adrenalin rush activity available when in denial so she’s not in the position to judge.
You shift uncomfortably under their gazes, sitting upright but hitting the back of the sofa with your head.
You may be in a different country and there may be a screen between you and the pair, but María is still like a big sister to you and the other girl is basically the only reason you’re still sane and survived throughout your friendship with the Spaniard.
However, you can’t let them know how broken you are, not when you regret nothing that led to this.
“Why not Norway?”, worth a shot.
“We’re basically going to celebrate in any corner of the world, I don’t think you can miss this”
“Then I can be anywhere else, Ingrid”
“Mapi’s family is gonna be here”, and you’re her family too it’s what she’s too considerate to say aloud but you all hear anyway.
“I don’t think is a good idea, no one want me there”
“That’s not true”
“Nena, por favor!”
The silence is deafening, when you find the gut to look at your friends it’s easy to remember the love, the support, and respect that bond your relationships.
A transfer to another country, all the attempts to hide from the consequences of your own choices, the hearts broken. None of those things are really able to cut those kinds of connections.
“I’m happy for you two”, you say with the biggest and most sincere smile in a while.
Mapi accepts your decision to keep the conversation light, focusing on this happy and long awaited news.
She’s glowing and you really are happy for her, for them. The desire to celebrate their love, to be there when they will share such pure joy with all the people they care about, sweeps away your fears of being confronted by the human form of the consequences of your own choices.
When the call ends, the usual weight you feel between your ribs doesn’t make your breathing heavier and the familiar bitter taste of guilt doesn’t pervade your mouth.
You book a ticket to Barcelona before it all comes back to you.
~
“Mapi and Ingrid are getting married”
“It’s a plague!”
Leah is unlacing her boots, the two of you the last ones in the changing room after an additional training session the blonde insisted you needed.
You’re playing in a slightly different position here, but you feel like those extra hours are more for her sake than your own, scared that you will find a way to avoid your new teammates if not involved in any possible activity.
You indulge her, you’re used to demanding and perfectionist captains after all.
“I have to go back to Barcelona”
“I bet, she’s gonna drag you there personally otherwise”
“María is not that―”
“I’m talking about Engen”, she smirks and she is right, Ingrid is way more effective in her convincing methods.
Still sitting on the bench in your training gear, you let her understand you’re not ready to leave yet. Not the room nor the conversation.
“What’s the problem, trotter?”
She managed to give you the worst nickname possible, making fun both of your way to run on the pitch and the fact you spent the past ten years in five different countries - it’s probably also a quip about the circumstances that bring you here but you give her the benefit of the doubt.
“No problem at all, I’m happy for them”
“They’re really cute”
“They are”, you miss them.
You miss the familiar embrace and the easy banter you share with María, you miss the warm support and the nights out with Ingrid, you miss the silence and the comforting methods Keira always found to take your homesickness away, you miss the funny and the cheerful attitude you wrap yourself around with Jana, Claudia and Ona. You miss them all.
You miss Alexia.
You miss how she always finds time to walk her dog out, doesn’t matter the weather or her busy schedule. You miss the subtle way she turns the radio’ volume up when a song she knows you like is on, and the not-so-subtle way she pretends to hate them all just to sing with you on the first chorus. You miss her body fitting perfectly all over your life, when moving in your house like it’s built around her, or when she’s ideally positioned on the pitch to receive your pass, or even when her hands find yours despite everything and everywhere you are.
You miss Alexia but you don’t deserve to grieve something you killed yourself.
“Do you need a pep talk from Kim?”
“Don’t you dare!”
Last time Leah called on your team captain to put up with your somber mood, you ended on the bench for two games yet sent her a nice bouquet as an apology - and as a thanks for the help.
“Look, you can’t hide from her forever”
“I can definitely try”
The smile she directs to you is both amused and bushed.
“I just don’t think our closest friend’s wedding is the best occasion to meet her for the first time after… well, after everything”, you admit while repeatedly hitting the changing room’s wall with the back of your head.
“Maybe not, maybe we will have to face them in the next Champion League’s draw”
She jinxed it.
#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso#ap11#leah williamson x reader#mapi leon x reader#mapi leon x ingrid engen#here we go again#my wo(rd)so#dont know how to fell about this#let me know if you hate or love me#as always#please forgive my english and my spanish#Spotify
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playing for keeps – chapter two
alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader
warnings: coarse language, brief mentions of grief
(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two]
word count: 10.2k
[1]
A shiver ran down your spine in spite of the sun’s anger that bored down on you.
You wiped your free hand on your jersey but sweat clung to your hand like glue, yet your fingers remained cold, even the ones on the hand your mother was holding. It didn’t help that your gut had coiled into a knot that you couldn’t loosen; you’d breathed deeply, you’d counted backwards from ten… and still, it remained there.
What was it about this that scared you so much?
The fear sprung in you the moment you stepped foot out of your home, growing the more you got closer, and now that you and your mother were walking across the parking lot to the building, it threatened to claw its way up your throat. And that was something you really didn’t want to happen.
You gripped your mother’s hand tighter. She gazed down at you with a soft look, giving your hand a slight, reassuring squeeze, and that was enough to ease that feeling a little bit.
The door creaked long and loud when your mother pushed it open, reminding you of that old, unused shed by the garden at home that made the same sound when you entered it, and it reverberated against the walls. No one was inside except for an empty desk in front of a wall with chipped, white paint. Just beside that, there was a corridor lined with a few doors, some of which were opened. And at the end of it there was an opening that led to the sunlit grasses of the outside.
At the sound, the head of a woman popped out from one of the open doors. The woman came out, a water bottle in hand which she set on the desk, and she greeted you and your mother with a friendly smile. Even still, you took a step back and hid behind your mother.
“Hello! I’m sorry for making you wait! How can I help you?”
“No need to apologize, we just came in.” Your mother laughed as she waved a hand in the air. “My daughter is actually here for her first day of training with the club.”
“Oh, is she?” The woman gasped and clapped her hands together in delight. She beamed down at you and stooped low to offer her hand out, and then she cooed, “Hello, love, I’m Teresa.”
Heat rose to your cheeks as you took her hand and shook it, telling her your name in a whisper. Teresa smiled at you again before she straightened her back.
“I’m so glad you got here just then. We don’t usually get people around this time so we tend to lock the front door, and I was about to head out back to bring the girls some water.” She explained to your mother and then she gazed back down at you again. “Are you excited to meet the girls?”
At your silence, your mother answered for you, “She is, it was all she could talk about. She’s just a bit shy.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that, love. The girls are just as lovely. Will you be joining us?”
“Are parents allowed to stay?” When Teresa nodded with a hum, your mother continued, “I see. Perhaps another time. I have somewhere to be.”
“We could schedule for another time.” Teresa nodded in understanding before she regarded you again, “Now, shall we meet everyone?”
Fear rose in you again and your eyes darted to your mother’s. There, you found an encouraging light that grounded you and without really intending to, you agreed with Teresa. Shortly after, your mother left but not before she told you, “Now, my little firecracker, you behave yourself. And remember, have fun and show them what you’re made of.”
Something akin to fire lit up in your chest at your mother’s words, and its warmth spread all the way to your fingers and toes. It was a soothing calm similar to the one you’d get from a cup of warm milk and honey in winter. And when she pressed a goodbye kiss on your forehead, a sense of safety blanketed over you even long after she’d left.
Teresa took your hand after she locked the front door, and occupied the other with holding the rack of water bottles, and she led you down the corridor. As you passed through, it became clear just how tiny the facility actually was but it held everything that you needed; Teresa had pointed and named the areas with a jut of her chin: the toilets were here, the nurse bay just beside it, and the lunch room was just across.
“It isn’t much but it’s home for the club.” Teresa smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. And her eyes were clouded with an emotion that made you feel a sudden urge to hug her. The emotion passed quickly and in the next moment, you found yourself surrounded by heat as you stepped down a threshold that led you outside.
Squinting and putting your free hand over your eyes, the sight of the field came into focus. It was surrounded by a metal, wire fence, and its entrance opened up at the end of this path you were on to the middle of the nearest sideline. Through the fence, girls of seemingly different ages ran about in one half of the field, shouting and laughing as they passed balls to each other. And you found your nerves returning but it was soon replaced by giddy anticipation.
You and Teresa were close enough now that your presence drew the attention of the girls. Upon catching the sight of you, they stopped and stared. And even from a good distance away, the weight of their eyes pressed on you and heat rose to your cheeks again.
A shout and a clap made the girls whip their heads–as well as your own–towards the direction of the sound. It came from a woman who said something to the girls you were too far to hear, but by the end of it, the girls resumed their training as if they never stopped.
From the lack of attention, you sighed out a breath.
Then the woman began her way to the sideline just as you and Teresa arrived there. Teresa set the water bottle rack down by her feet while your eyes wandered over from the walking woman to the other girls. For the most part, they all looked the same age and height, but a few towered over the rest with their great build and height, and that did nothing to quell your brewing fear. There was only one girl that was smaller than everyone else, younger too, whose height looked to be similar to yours.
The girl was last in the line she queued for and as she stood there waiting for the ball, she had her head turned over her shoulders to look at you. She had short hair held back by a headband, and her shirt ballooned at the waistband of her shorts, which fell all the way down to her knees. Instead of fear, an urge to greet her rose in you, but as you raised your hand to wave at her, she whipped her head back to the front just in time to receive the next ball that was passed to her.
“Ah! Our new addition to the family is finally here!”
The exclamation had you turning yours to the front, and you found the woman there with both hands planted on her hips. She towered over you–like most adults did but she was taller than most–and the angle made the fine lines around the corners of her eyes and lips look deeper from the harsh sunlight. Her blue eyes were light, inviting and warm, and they held a calming force that reminded you of your mother’s. When she stuck out her hand, you noted the way her skin clung to the surface of her flesh, almost translucent in the sun, but you found yourself unafraid to shake it immediately.
“Welcome to Sabadell Girls’ Football. My name is Catalina but you may call me Madam Cata. Remind me again, how old are you, little one?”
“I just turned eight.” You said, and you nearly forgot to add, “Madam.”
Madam Cata’s smile brightened and, to your surprise, she let out a small laugh. At her amusement, you found yourself smiling, too.
“Very young, indeed. Well then, I’ll take you from Teresa to meet the rest of the girls.”
Your heart jumped at the thought and you turned to Teresa. She must've seen a hint of your apprehension because she gave you a soft, encouraging smile and said, “You’ll be just fine. You’ll see.”
Somehow, you believed her. So you nodded and thanked her, and with another smile and a wave of her hand, she left you with Madam Cata who began to lead you away with a gentle hand against your back.
After you’d crossed the small distance from the sideline to the middle of the field, Madam Cata called out to the girls. They gathered and now that they were closer, your shoulders curled inwards under the weight of their stares, and you kept your eyes down at the red laces of your boots, which your cheeks and ears probably resembled now as they heated from the attention.
You felt the weight of Madam Cata’s hand on your shoulder.
She was smiling at you and then she said softly, “Don’t be afraid, little one. These are your friends and sisters. Go on. Tell them your name.”
Finally, you looked at the girls. And as if drawn by a force, your attention immediately locked on that girl, and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, a sense of calm washed over you.
The girl stared at you like the others did, but it was different. It wasn’t a look you found to be negative, more curious and attentive. Her head was tilted slightly to the side as if the change in angle would help her figure you out. She wasn’t quite smiling or frowning; she impressed you with a leveled attitude, an expression you typically saw on people who were significantly older than you, and you were surprised to see such a face worn by someone as young as the both of you.
Her eyes traced an invisible path along your face all the way down to your boots. She was sizing you up, you knew this. You’d played enough games at recess and after school to know how kids scrutinized each other for weaknesses, but you felt it wasn’t the same with this girl. Her gaze was more appraising than critical, as if she was imagining how you would affect the team. You could almost see her calculations playing like a movie above her head and you barely stopped yourself from giggling at the image.
She must’ve seen your amusement because she straightened her head in attention, and her brows knitted to a slight frown. The change should’ve given you grief but it only made you all the more interested to get to know her for reasons you couldn’t quite understand. There was just something about this girl… something that you wanted to discover. And so, right there and then, you decided that you were going to befriend her.
Feeling a bit better, you finally introduced yourself with a wave to the others before you locked your gaze on the girl again.
The girl’s frown deepened.
Your smile widened.
“Now, girls, introduce yourselves.” Said Madam Cata.
And so they did.
A couple of the older girls gave you a smirk that reminded you of the older cousins you’d see at family gatherings, or the boys at school who thought you were easy picking whenever you played with them. The rest looked friendly and introduced themselves with a pleasant smile and a wave.
It was the girl’s turn now.
“Hi. I’m Alexia and I play as a midfielder.”
Alexia. Somehow, the name suited her just right, like she was born to be one. The fact that she was the only one who stated their position wasn’t lost to you. It was an assertion–a claim–and this again should’ve intimidated you but it only made you smile.
Now that introductions were done, the girls dispersed as per Madam Cata’s instructions.
“Alexia. Come here, my child.” Madam Cata called out which stopped Alexia from running away with the rest. She froze midstep, her eyes darting to you then back to Madam Cata, before she reluctantly turned and shuffled until she was beside the woman.
“Seeing as the both of you are the closest in age, Alexia, I’d like you to make her feel welcomed.” Madam Cata began, placing a hand on Alexia’s shoulder, and then she continued, “You two are the youngest in the club and I have high hopes that you two will become friends.”
Madam Cata smiled at you, then to Alexia. “What do you say, Alexia?”
Alexia said nothing and only stared at you. You stood your ground and stared back, waiting for Alexia’s move. In this moment, doubt crept in and your resolve wavered. Were you mistaken? Did she really not like you? She hasn’t even given you the chance, yet… You thought in disappointment.
And then Alexia, instead of replying to Madam Cata, stuck out her open hand to you. “Let’s go?”
You couldn’t help it. You grinned.
Giving Madam Cata one last look, you took Alexia’s hand. It was sweaty and warm, and her grip was gentle. And then she was pulling you forward, easing you both in a run. And as you took off hand-in-hand across the yellowing grass of the field, Alexia turned her head to you and a tentative smile crinkled the corner of her lips, and you found the rest of your worries melting away.
You squeezed her hand, smiling.
And, this was the best part:
She squeezed your hand back.
[2]
By the end of the day, Alexia’d introduced you to everyone, and all the other girls had warmed up to you, including the ones who’d intimidated you at first. Alexia may be young, but you saw how the other girls respected her. Despite this, Alexia remained sincere and kind, and this fact made your admiration for her grow
Training-wise, Madam Cata separated you from the rest at first, testing your stamina and evaluating your technical skills before she eventually let you join in on the 7-a-side matches that ended today’s training. You were slightly disappointed that you didn’t end up on the same team as Alexia, but it was fun defending against her. To your surprise, it didn’t even bother you that your team lost. Maybe it was because you got to witness Alexia shoot the winning goal, but of course you kept that information to yourself. It was late afternoon when you finished, and all the other girls had been taken home by their parents, except for you two.
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait inside, girls?” Miss Teresa called out from the front door.
Alexia shook her head to answer for the both of you.
“We’re fine here, thank you.”
“Alright. Just stay in sight, okay?”
The both of you called out in agreement and finally satisfied, Miss Teresa returned back to her desk. There were two large trees that flanked the path towards the front door, and under their shade were benches built to wrap around their bases. Under one of those trees, you and Alexia waited for your parents to pick you up.
You kicked your feet in the air as they hung from the bench, relishing the way the cool breeze soothed the heat around the new bruise you got on your shin.
“The bruise is getting bigger.” Alexia muttered. She’d taken off her headband and you noticed how short her hair actually was; only the front had enough length to fall over her face, parting in the middle to reveal her eyes. Apples were high in her cheeks and the remaining sunlight that filtered through the leaves played on her skin, and made her hazel eyes look lighter, almost green. She twisted her fingers as her lips curled into a regretful pout. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kick you.”
“Hey, come on, it was a game. It’s fine.” When the pout didn’t leave her face, you knocked your knee against hers and added, “It looks kinda cool, don’t you think?”
At that, an amused smile replaced Alexia’s pout. “Only you would think a bruise looks cool.”
“I’m different like that.”
“Sure, you are.”
“I am. Why else are you talking to me?”
Alexia rolled her eyes and then she laughed.
“What time are you getting picked up?”
You looked at your watch.
“My mom should be here any minute now. What about yours?”
“Soon as well,” Alexia answered after she peeked at your watch. And then, she asked, “Do you live nearby?”
“No, I live in Mollet.”
Alexia squeaked and at the sound, you looked at her and found her eyes were delightfully wide with surprise. “You do? I do, too!”
“Really?” You gasped, mirroring her in your excitement. Elation filled you at the prospect of Alexia living so close. Imagine the sleepovers, the after school football games! “Where do you live? What school do you go to?”
But when Alexia answered you and you recognised that the places she named were on the other side of town, you pouted in disappointment. When Alexia asked you what your face was about, you told her where you lived and your school, and then Alexia started pouting, too.
“I wish we lived closer. We could play football after school!”
“Yeah! And you could stay over! Or maybe I could?” Alexia whined. “Why do you have to live on the other side of town?”
“If I could drive a car, I would come over all the time!” You imitated holding a steering wheel, and you blew air through your lips, imitating an engine.
Alexia slapped your arm, laughing. “Are you speeding? That’s illegal! If you drive like that, I’ll never get in the same car as you!”
“Fine,” you sighed dramatically. “I won’t speed just for you.”
“That’s comforting.” Alexia quipped dryly. “No, but I’m serious. I’ll ask my parents if I could stay the night some time. You should do the same!”
“I will. My parents will probably say yes as long as your parents are alright with it.”
The sound of gravel being disturbed drew both of your attention. A car and a truck parked in the space in front of you, and you recognised the car to be your mom’s.
“My mom’s here. Is your–”
“Papá!”
Alexia jumped out of her seat and ran towards the other car, a truck, whose door opened to reveal a man, Alexia’s father. He was tall, like really tall, towering over the truck next to him. He had long, loose gray pants on that stretched all the way up to his chest; the upper part reminded you of a bib, and the white shirt beneath was covered with what you supposed to be car oil—your own father had come into the house with the strange scent and feel of it enough times for you to know the look of it from a distance. There was some of it on his cheeks as well, but Alexia didn’t seem to be bothered by it, for she immediately jumped into his arms, and he, with a cheerful laugh, lifted his daughter up with a small grunt.
You smiled at the sight.
Seeing as Alexia’d gone to her father, you went ahead and did the same, jumping off the bench to meet your mother as she got out of her own car.
“How was your day, my little firecracker?” Your mother asked after she’d greeted you with a kiss on your cheek, running her hands over your forehead and temple to wipe away the remaining sweat there.
“It was really good, Mamá! I made a friend! She’s over there. Look!”
In your excitement, you tugged on your mother’s hand and pointed her over to where Alexia and her father were, only to find Alexia doing the same with her father.
Your mother laughed. “I see you’re very much alike, the two of you.”
And then, your mother waved at Alexia’s father, who waved back, before she began to walk over where they were, and you trailed behind her. She was probably going to talk to Alexia’s father, and you were excited to spend just a little more time with Alexia.
Alexia shoved her bag inside the truck before she ran to you. When she stopped right beside you and looped her arm around yours, you told her, “Your father’s so tall.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Alexia beamed at you, pride in her voice as she looked at her father. “Is your father tall?”
“Yes, but not as tall as your dad.” And then a thought struck you as you looked back at Alexia. There was Alexia’s father, and here was Alexia. “You know, you look like your father.”
“Yeah, I know. People say it all the time.”
“And you don’t get sick of it?”
She looked at you with a confused frown. “No, why would I be?”
“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I’m not really sure why I asked that.”
Alexia just smiled at you and asked, lowering her voice with mischief. “What do you think they’re talking about?”
She’d begun to shuffle forward, taking you along with her because of your linked arms, and now you could hear their conversation.
“–you and your family come over for dinner. I’d prepared so much tonight in celebration of my daughter’s entry to the club. I don’t think we could handle all the food at all.” Your mother laughed, and then she added, “We could also discuss the arrangements then.”
You turned to Alexia with wide eyes and met her gaze, which brimmed with excitement. Turning back to Alexia’s father, you willed him to say yes.
Alexia’s father scratched the back of his head, his other hand on his hip. “We’d love to come over. That is, if you don’t mind having a five-year-old over, of course.”
“No, we don’t mind at all! Please, do come over.”
“Okay, then I’ll tell my wife. What time should we head over?”
“Nine should be fine.”
Alexia’s father nodded, and that was that.
You couldn’t hold your excitement any longer. You spun to face Alexia, grabbed her hands and both of you squealed. Laughter came from the direction of your parents, but you paid them no mind because all you could think about was that Alexia was coming over for dinner.
“All right. That’s quite enough girls. Say goodbye now.” Alexia’s father said with a light voice. “You’ll see each other again later.”
Alexia nodded, and then soon she was hugging you. “Bye, I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Alexia.” You said, lifting your chin off her shoulder before you let her go and took your place at your mother’s side.
“Alright, Jaume, it was nice meeting you.”
Jaume, so that was Alexia’s father’s name. Jaume waved his goodbye to the both of you with a smile on his face, and then he and Alexia drove away.
On the way home, up until Alexia and her family got to your home, you were practically buzzing with excitement. You ran up to your room to bathe, changed, ran back down, and even then the clock’s hand was still not pointing to nine.
“Honey, you peeking out through the window won’t make them get here any faster.”
A sigh escaped your lips, and pushing yourself off the window sill with a huff, you whined. “When are they getting here?”
Your mother laughed at that. “It’s only ten past eight, my love. Go to your father and help him. Maybe time will pass quicker that way, no?”
Dragging your feet with another sigh, you made your way to the kitchen. Your father had his back turned to you when you entered through the archway as he busied himself on the kitchen counter. He stuck his hand into the bag of flour in front of him, and he spread it all over the counter, which caused a plume of white to rise in the air.
“Can I help?” You asked, shuffling closer so that you were beside him. There was flour everywhere on his side of the counter, while two empty baking trays were lined up in front of you. “What are you making, Papá?”
“This, my love, is pan de payés.” He lifted the tea towel in front of him to reveal four domes of raw dough, their surfaces taut with tension. He looked at them, and with a proud nod, he said, “Go wash your hands and help me with them.”
You did, and as you dried your hands, you asked, “Why are you making them? Don’t we have enough food for tonight?”
“Why, they’re for our friends, of course. You wouldn’t want Alexia to leave here empty-handed, would you now, my love?”
Heat rose to your cheeks as you shook your head.
Your father smiled down at you with warmth. “Of course you wouldn’t. Now here, I’ll prepare this first one; you watch, and I’ll let you do the rest. How does that sound?”
You nodded, and you watched. He carefully placed a dome of dough in the centre of the floured space, then took another pinch of flour and sprinkled it over the dough, before lightly running his hands over the surface to spread the flour evenly. He took out his bread lame and ran the blade over the surface of the dough, creating four gashes that intersected to form a diamond, and then he placed the dome on one side of a baking tray.
You did as he did, albeit slower, and with the patient guidance of your father. After your father put the trays in the oven, the heat of it filled the space with warmth and light. As the two of you looked on at your work, your father began, “Remember this, my love. Food is an extension of our feelings and identities. It fills us, it sustains us, and it connects us. It makes us remember. When you eat your mother’s cooking, what do you feel? What do you think about?”
You didn’t even need to think; you answered immediately. “Warm. And I think about home, Mamá, and you.”
Your father smiled. “Good. Now, what do you think Alexia would think about if, say, she ate a piece of this bread for breakfast tomorrow?”
“Us?”
He hummed, and then a small laugh escaped his lips. He bent down slightly so he could tap your nose with his finger. “It’s going to be you, my love. How nice it is to be thought of, especially by a new friend, hmm?”
You giggled, but a familiar warmth surged through you at the thought.
A knock resonated through the house, and you gasped, looking at your father in excitement.
“Ah, our friends are here. Go on, now.” Your father tilted his head in the direction of the front door, a half-smile on his lips. You gave him a hug, and you sprinted towards the door, only slowing down when a “No running, please!” resounded from the kitchen.
“Oh, she’s so cute!” You heard your mother’s coo, and when you turned the corner, you saw her fussing over a little girl balanced on her father’s hip, while Alexia’s mother laughed warmly at your mother’s attention, and finally, you spotted Alexia looking up at her sister being pampered with a smile curling her lips.
You walked over to them.
“Ah! My daughter’s finally here.” Your mother placed a gentle hand behind your back.
“Hello.” You greeted Alexia shyly, eyes fleeting from Alexia’s parents to her sister, then to Alexia herself, who was smiling at you. You stepped up to them to shake their hands, introducing yourself to them, and they did the same to you. You learned that Alexia’s mother was named Eli, and her little sister was named Alba. You offered your hand to Alexia as well, with a playful smile. Alexia caught on, and she giggled before throwing her arms around you.
“Isn’t she a dear? Oh, they seem so close already!” You heard Eli say it with a clap of her hands.
“Believe me, Alexia was all she could talk about the whole night!”
Your cheeks heated when Alexia laughed against your ear at what your mother said, but in the end, you decided you didn’t quite mind.
“Hello, welcome to our home.” Your father finally stepped out of the kitchen. He walked up to Jaume, shook his hand, and stooped down to press his right cheek against Eli’s. He cooed at Alba the same way your mother did, and he gave Alexia a wave. “You all must be hungry; please come join us in the dining area.”
Once the lot of you moved to the kitchen, the evening progressed quite quickly, as it usually did when you were having a good time. Your parents got to know each other after they initially took turns talking about you and Alexia. They laughed and got lost in their conversations, while you and Alexia busied yourselves with Alba, helping her with her food, and who, after finally warming up to you, revealed herself to be a bundle of energy.
At one point, the conversation moved to the living room, and this was when you and Alexia snuck out to the backyard. Alba’d fallen asleep not long after dinner, and she was safely pressed against Eli when the both of you took off. You’d lead Alexia to your favourite spot; it was a swing that hung from a branch of a sturdy tree, and this was how you found yourself pushing Alexia gently as she sat on it, her hands around the ropes of the swing.
“Why do you play football?” Alexia asked, breaking the silence.
“How do you mean?”
“Like, are you only playing it for fun? Or, are you serious about it?”
You hummed as you pushed her. “I’m not sure yet. But, sometimes, when I’m in school, I find myself daydreaming about it.”
“That’s the same with me. It’s all I can think about. I dream about it, too.”
“You’re serious about it.” It wasn’t even a question; you could hear it clearly in her voice. But she turned her head, and the look she gave you all but confirmed it.
“I am,” she breathed out. “I really am.”
You gave her another push. “Where do you want to end up?”
“Barça.” Her answer came quickly, like she’d thought it all through. And then she added, “One day, I’ll play for them.”
The conviction in her voice was enough to electrify you with a surge of inspiration, and as you pushed her on the swing, you had no difficulty believing that it would come true. Like Alexia said, it was only a matter of time.
One day.
You smiled, even though you knew she couldn’t see it.
“I can see it, Alexia. And I know you’ll look great in scarlet and blue.”
[3]
“Yes, Mamá, I got it. Actually, can you text me the list?”
“Ah, daughter of mine, have you taken so many balls to the head that you can’t even remember two things?” At your mother’s irritated response, a laugh bubbled from your throat.
“Actually, yes, Mamá. Probably a thousand by now. And I was joking, come on.” You waved back at a woman who thanked you as she crossed the pedestrian lane, and then you continued driving. As you turned the corner, you asked, “Why do you need so many drinks anyway? Are you having a party? You know I can’t drink during the season, right?”
“My girl, you have too many questions. Just make sure you come home in time, okay?”
“Yes, Mamá.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you alone. Have fun at training and give Alexia a kiss for me.”
The sentence made you tense, and you had to will your hands to loosen their grip on the steering wheel. You loved your mother, but there was no way in hell you would do that, even for her.
You swallowed, hoping your apprehension wouldn’t show through your voice. “Okay. I’m going to go now. I love you. Tell Papá I love him, too. And Nona.”
“I will. They’re very excited to see you. And I love you, too, my little firecracker.”
Just as you hung up the phone, you turned the corner and found the parking lot of the Ciutat Esportiva Joan Gamper. You parked your car and took out your gym bag. The sun was high enough to blind you, so you put a hand over your eyes, and you saw the tall building that sported Barça’s logo. And as if you were greeting an old friend, you whispered, “It’s good to see you again.”
“Hello!”
A cheerful voice addressed you from behind. You turned back, and you saw a woman of slight build, shorter than you, with short brown hair that curled just behind her ear. Some locks fell on her temple and covered her left eye, and the sun made her hair look golden. She was wearing loose, off-grey high-rise pants and a black long-sleeved turtleneck that accentuated the curve of her body.
She was beautiful.
And she was also Tori Favaro, the top-scoring forward for Roma last season and the fourth candidate for last year’s Ballon d'Or. Also, the other half of Barcelona’s new transfers this season.
Of course, you knew about her.
“Hey, Tori,” you said with a smile.
She was now in front of you, and she grinned, which revealed the dimple in her left cheek. “I didn’t think you’d remember me!”
“How could I forget? The only other time I met you, you gave me a hard time!”
“You’re telling me! We couldn’t get past you at all! The fact that the only goal we got that day was from our own goal is still a bit embarrassing.” She laughed, followed by a sigh–wistful. The two of you walked towards the entrance of the Gamper. “I can’t believe that was more than ten years ago.”
At her wistfulness, you couldn’t help but recall the memory as well: FIFA U17’s World Cup, when Spain and Brazil clashed during the knockout stages. Tori was relentless in her attack, and you barely saved the balls that managed to get past your defenders. Even then, you—and everyone who had eyes—saw her potential, and now look how far she’d come; she was very well on track to getting a Ballon d'Or, and she was never more in her prime than now.
“Is there any chance of you representing your country again now that you’re back in Barça?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll just make my decision when they call me up the next time.” You shrugged, hefting your gym bag over your shoulder. The sudden urge to change the topic rose in you, so you asked quickly, “How are you finding Barcelona so far?”
Thankfully, Tori took the bait, and you happily listened to what she had to say about your city as the both of you walked through the lit, pristine corridors of Gamper, which, as you noted in passing, were strangely barren, as you reacted every now and again to whatever Tori said, even recommending her places worth going to.
As Tori pushed the door to the locker room, a frown crossed her face, and she looked behind her. “Where is everyone?”
“I don’t–”
“Welcome to Barça!” Came the unified greeting and the cheers that suddenly erupted.
A sign that read the same thing with the letters in alternating scarlet and blue, accented by some yellow hearts, was held between Marta and Alexia while the others stood in a semi-circle, clapping and hooting. A cake was on the centre table, and just behind it were piles of folded fabric, which you recognised to be yours and Tori’s set of training kits. Beside you, Tori wore the same expression on your face: mouth agape, eyes wide in pleasant surprise.
The semi-circle dispersed, and the next thing you knew, you were being hugged, patted on the back, and chatter filled the room.
“Look who’s back! Barça’s prodigal daughter finally returned home!” Mapi shouted, arms thrown up in the air, before she grabbed you by your shoulder to pull you into her.
“Don’t act like you missed me, asshole.” You laughed and punched her arm when she pulled away.
Mapi cradled her arm like you’d just injured her, looking at you with a look of exaggerated pain. She gasped, “Violence, already? Is that how you treat a teammate? I won’t stand for this. Alexia! Captain!”
At that, you sidestepped around Mapi, but not after sticking your tongue out at her, as you navigated through your other teammates who welcomed you. You managed to get to the edge of the crowd, just at the end of the locker room, and that was when you saw Alexia with Tori. You were close enough to hear snippets of their conversation.
“–expect me to go easy on you.” Alexia said with a laugh, hands on her hips.
“Of course. Just because you’re my–”
An arm wrapped around your shoulder and a presence pressed up to your side.
“So, did you get me Christen’s signature?” Patri’s voice filtered through your ear.
You hissed through your teeth, your voice gravely low. “You know, I did ask her. She just doesn’t want to give it to you, dude.”
Patri looked at you incredulously. “Wait. What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure.” You shrugged, placing your gym bag on the nearby bench. “Did you say something to her the last time you saw each other?”
“Dude, the last time I saw her was what?” Patri frowned and blew air through her lips. “During the SheBelieves Cup? What–”
Grinning, you pulled something out of your bag and revealed it to her. Delight filled you upon seeing Patri’s eyes widen in recognition, her gaze fleeting between your face and down to the jersey.
“Oh, you cheeky bastard!” She took the jersey from you, held it up in front of her to appreciate the signature down in the middle, and she embraced you with a force that made you grunt out a laugh. “Thank you!”
A voice broke the two of you apart.
“Easy there, Patri. Don’t break any of her bones, please. She hasn’t even begun playing yet.”
It was Alexia.
Your heart lurched.
Patri looked at you, then at Alexia, and she put her hands up in surrender. Patri gave you one last knowing look—something that you tried hard not to think about too much—before she gave a two-finger salute to her captain, and off she went, leaving you alone with Alexia.
“Hey,” Alexia greeted you and stepped into your space, arms wrapping around your shoulders. You tensed for a moment before you remembered to relax, snaking your own arms around her chest. “Now, I’m a bit jealous. Where’s my present?”
“I think I happened to spy it on your wrist, or am I just going blind?” You hummed. When you pulled away, you took her left hand and lifted it up. “Oh, look! There it is!”
Alexia threw her head back in laughter.
The sight, like always, made you feel warm.
“So, I suppose you like it?” You couldn’t help it; shyness bled into your tone, and you only hoped that Alexia didn’t hear it.
“I love it. Thank you. It suits me, doesn’t it?”
And though the silver band of the watch glinted around her wrist as it caught the light when she lifted her wrist to the level of your eye, you appreciated the way the golden flecks in her eyes shone despite the blue tint from the fluorescent lighting.
“I’m glad you like it.” You said barely above a whisper, and you berated yourself at the softness that lingered there, but the way Alexia’s eyes became unfocused and lidded, as if she’d thought of a memory, made the slipup almost worth it.
Almost.
“Alright, good morning, everyone!” Jona’s voice pierced through the chatter, and everyone stilled, apt with attention, before sitting down on the bench. Alexia, Irene, and Marta remained standing but kept mostly to the sides. He, and two other assistant coaches, stepped into the room with their clipboards and folders in hand.
You shared a look with Tori. She snuck you a thumbs up, and you pressed your lips together, fighting a grin.
“First of all, welcome to our new transfers.” A round of applause went around. Jona faced Tori, and he continued, “Tori, thank you for joining us. I hope you’ve settled yourself in the city, and we really look forward to playing with you.”
“I’ll do my very best to help our club. Visca Barça!” At the latter, hoots and claps erupted.
Jona laughed, but when he motioned for everyone to calm back down, the locker room grew silent again.
“And of course, this woman needs no introduction. Barça’s very own Wall has returned.”
Heat rose to your cheeks as cheers erupted once again. And it didn’t help that Alexia was looking at you with something akin to pride while clapping her hands, a soft smile on her lips.
“It’s great to be back, Jona. And like Tori, I’ll do my best to keep our club moving forward.” You caught Alexia’s eyes. “It is home, after all.”
“It is home, indeed. Well, put your training kits on and meet us down at the fields. The rest of you, please head on over to Pitch 9.”
Jona and the other coaches filed out. Alexia followed along with the rest, but not before giving you another look. You stared long after she’d gone, not knowing Patri remained in the changing room and saw the whole until you found her with a look of disapproval clear on her face.
She sighed, shook her head as she got up, and left.
Tori was there, too, and her eyes flicked between the door and you, then to the door again, and you could almost see the questions forming in her mind. You quickly took your training kits and entered one of the changing cubicles to spare yourself from any more confrontations.
[4]
Training went relatively well. For the most part, anyway.
You were with the team for the warm-ups before you were separated—along with the other goalkeepers—for technical training, and then Jona called all of you back for some 5-side matches.
At one point, your team went against Tori and Alexia’s team. They’d linked up, the two of them, keeping their touches to two at most. They were close now, and Jana was just barely holding Alexia at bay. You spotted Tori’s signal from the corner of your eye, but you needed Alexia to commit to a pass. You kept your weight on your toes. With a body feint to the left, tapping the ball to the right with her outer foot, and a quick cutback to the left, Jana was defeated, and Alexia kicked the ball.
Now!
You sprinted forward to the left, where you knew Tori was, and you leaped. The ball stuck to your gloves mid-air.
“Holy shit!” It came from a surprised Tori.
You would’ve laughed, but you spotted an unmarked Caro who was making a run for it. You wound your shoulder back right after you landed on your feet and released the ball before Tori and Alexia could even think to get back.
It sailed right on over to Caro, and she brought it down with her chest. Ingrid was on Caro all at once, but Esmee surged forward to follow a diagonal path from behind Caro, asking for the ball, and it only took one moment’s hesitation from Ingrid for Caro to make just enough space for her to shoot.
The ball went past the nearest post, and you pumped your hand in the air. When Caro saw you with her arm around Esmee, she gave you a thumbs up, and you returned the gesture with a clap.
It was nearing midday when all of you’d cooled down and headed to the gym. On the way inside, Tori ran up to you.
“You nearly took off my head there.” She said, just slightly out of breath as she patted your back.
“I was going to tell you, ‘Heads up!’, but that would’ve ruined the surprise now, right?”
“Remind me not to play opposite you again.” She joked. “I forgot how aggressive you play. And I think you’ve only gotten worse!”
“It comes with the title.” You said, winking at her.
“Does it now?” She said it dryly, squinting at you. And then the both of you parted ways for your respective workouts.
It was going relatively well, but at one point, your attention moved to Alexia without meaning to. Alexia stood watch over Tori, who was lying down on the bench and lifting, attentive, and they conversed with a familiarity that transcended more than that of acquaintances. And you knew, then, that they’d probably hung out outside of sporting functions.
For some reason, the sight made you ache.
Then a sigh came from somewhere beside you. You turned and found Patri there with her levelled expression, but her eyes were knowing with the way they looked at you. She tilted her head and patted your back before making her way to the exit. You hesitated for a moment, but, as if it had its own volition, your body stood up and followed her out to the sunlit pitch.
Patri was further away now; she hadn’t stopped walking, and you had to jog to catch up with her. It took a moment, but you finally matched her stride, and without even looking at you, Patri began, “How are you?”
You stuck your hands into the pockets of your shorts. “Fine.”
Patri hummed, obviously unconvinced. She took a breath and let it out loudly through her teeth. Your shoulders locked at the sound, and you prepared yourself for the weight of whatever she was about to say.
“I saw you looking at her,” Patri said, straight to the heart of the matter, and your body coiled tighter with tension. “You went through all that trouble. Yet, you’re back here again and still not over her. In fact, I think you’re—” Patri sent you a look, though this one fleeted so quickly that you weren’t able to decipher it. She blinked, returning her gaze forward. “Never mind.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course, it fucking does!” Patri exclaimed. “You were doing better! And then you ghosted me for months. The last time we talked, everything was going well with—"
“Don’t.” The word came out firm—a warning. “Patri, please, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Patri’s voice softened. “So... something did happen.”
“Patri. Drop it.”
Patri stopped walking just several metres away from the gym tent; you’d finished a lap around the pitch. She frowned at you, and you were ready to fight back if she insisted on talking about it, but she shook her head, and the frown melted away, and in its place was a look of pity.
“Okay. I hope you know what you’re doing. Just ready yourself.”
A pause and a hesitant look flashed through her face. But Patri was a good friend because she was direct, almost callous in the way she called everything as it was, and it was something you’d always liked and admired about her. Now it was no different because she said, “I think you know yourself already, but I just thought I’d let you know. Alexia has a girlfriend.”
Despite yourself, your heart dropped. And you ached.
Oh.
Patri must’ve seen something on your face because that pitying look deepened with a hint of sympathy. She patted your back gently before she headed back in. You breathed deep, and it came out shaky, but you steeled yourself as you parted the entrance to the gym.
Alexia’s laughter filled the air, drawing your attention immediately. And there she was in the same spot, holding onto Tori’s shoulder for support, bent over in her amusement, while Tori looked at her with a dimpled smile.
You turned away.
[5]
A grunt escaped your lips as you got out of the car, your muscles bearing a pleasant soreness. You turned your headlights off and parked in front of your parents’ house. It was later than you’d expected, but the additional technical session and the meeting with Jona caused you to be one of the last ones out of the Gamper.
With the cake and drinks you promised your mother to get in hand, you knocked on the door and waited. There was a lone light that filtered from the living room, which you found a bit odd, but tiredness won out, and you decided to pay it no mind. Maybe your parents were just relaxing on the couch.
No one answered.
Frowning, you placed the drinks on the porch step, and you balanced the cake on one hand as you opened the door with your key.
You let yourself in, and the hallway was dark.
“Mamá? Papá? Where–”
The lights in the hallway and the kitchen flashed on in quick succession, nearly blinding you.
“Surprise!” The resonant cheer came, and the cake box jumped in your hand, nearly slipping.
You found your mother’s face first, and you laughed, “Oh my god!”
“Welcome home, my love!” Your mother embraced you, and you barely had enough time to angle the cake away and put the box of drinks down so she could do it properly. You leaned down, and she placed a kiss on your cheek, and then the other.
“Hello, Mamá.” You muttered, closing your eyes, soaking in her presence and the peace that came with it. Oh, how you missed her. Another pair of arms wrapped around you; it was your father’s, and suddenly heat rose to your eyes at the warmth that seemed to blanket over you, both inside and out.
“Let me grab that for you, my love.” Your father said, taking the cake box from your hand, but not before kissing your temple as a greeting.
When you pulled away, you saw it wasn’t just your parents there. There were Eli, Alba, and Alexia, with little Nona in her arms. Nona’s white coat was a stark contrast to the dark shirt that Alexia wore. There was a tender smile on her lips, her eyes almost wistful as she caught your gaze. And could you really blame your heart if it ached beneath the weight of her gaze?
“Oh, sweetie, have you grown taller?” Eli asked as she stepped into you, hugging and kissing your cheeks like your mother did.
“I’m not sure about that, Eli.” You giggled into her ear. “How are you?”
“Growing grey hair, love. You went away, and I had no one else to keep Alexia in line. Alba doesn’t help; in fact, she encourages her sister’s wiles, and Alexia does the same. Partners in crime, these two!”
Alba’s laughter resonated in your ear when you hugged her next, and you chuckled at the exasperation in Eli’s voice. Alba retorted, “Má, how else could we keep you on your toes?”
“I’d very much not want to be kept on my toes. Thank you very much.”
“Eli, I’m sure Alexia couldn’t be that bad. She’s always been a good girl.” At that, you caught Alexia’s gaze with a smirk. Her eyes twinkled with recognition, probably remembering what the both of you got up to behind your parents’ backs. She shook her head slightly, mouthing, ‘You’re an asshole.’
You gave her another smirk before you added lightly, "Alba, on the other hand...”
You didn’t even finish the sentence before you got a well-deserved punch to the arm from Alba herself—a punch you knew would surely form a bruise. Cradling your sore arm, you yelped, looking at Alexia for help.
“Alba, please don’t injure our new goalkeeper. We need her.” Alexia said calmly, and you looked at Alba triumphantly. Alba opened her mouth to protest, it seemed, but Alexia cut her off. “There’s no need for that. I’ll just ask Jona to make her do some extra laps during warm-ups in our next training session.”
“Yeah, that’s right—hey!” Realising what she said, you scoffed while Alba threw her head back, laughing. Alexia’s lips were curled up in a satisfied smirk, looking much like someone who’d gotten the last word.
“Ha! That’s what you get—”
Eli cut Alba off. “That’s enough, you three. I swear, when you’re together, you act like you’re all still ten!”
“It’s a bit endearing, though, isn’t it, Eli?” Your mother laughed, putting a placating hand on Eli’s shoulder. “But Eli is right. We should take this all to the dining table, no? The food is about to grow cold.”
[6]
In the two years you lived in the States, you spent most evenings alone, and the food you’d cooked from the recipes you took with you never tasted like home. It’d been so long, you nearly forgot how filling food should be—both in mind, body, and spirit. But now, in the presence of your family, with their love laid out in front of you—your mother’s arrós negre, Eli’s fricandó, and your father’s pan de payés—with their laughter and their warmth, you were finally filled again.
You ate mostly in silence, soaking in the scene and the ruckus with a smile, and the detail of that one empty chair wasn’t lost to you either. The reminder drew your attention to Alexia. She’d tied her hair in a low ponytail and left two locks of her hair to frame either side of her face, which made her look all the more beautiful. In this light, Alexia’s image seemed to split in such a way that you could almost feel a presence in that empty seat beside her, looking on at this scene as you were.
Grief gripped at your heart, but love was quick to soothe the pain with its gentle caress.
The minutes flew by, and many times you caught Alexia sneaking peeks at her phone, sometimes even texting while she wore a tender expression. If anyone saw it, no one called her out for it—well, maybe except for Eli, who, upon spotting her daughter on her phone, gave her a reprimanding smack against her arm, followed by a hissed scolding. Alexia looked so much like a child just then, with her wide eyes, that you nearly spat out your drink. She caught you staring, and she squinted her eyes. To that, you blinked innocently at her, curling your lips slightly to let her know you saw the whole thing.
“So, are you in a relationship, dear?” Eli’s unexpected question made the water go into the wrong hole, and you spluttered. Alba patted your back while Alexia eyed you with concern and curiosity. Eli asked, “Are you okay, love?”
You gave her a thumbs up.
“Alright. Where was I? Right. Being in America for two years, surely you must’ve met someone.”
After composing yourself finally, you answered, “No, I’m not, Eli. I’d been so busy that I had no time for it, really.”
“What? A pretty girl like you all alone? I don’t quite believe that!” Eli exclaimed. “Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you with anyone.”
“Apart from that poor boy... What was his name?” Your father added. He snapped his fingers. “Ah! Guille! Nice boy, he was. Where is he now anyway?”
“We were never together, Papá.” For some reason, you felt the need to clarify that. “And he’s in London, finishing his PhD at York.”
“Wow, that’s amazing. And I never knew you kept in touch.” Your mother’s brows shot up in surprise, and you thought you heard a hint of awe in her tone. Teasingly, she said, “Are you sure you’re not seeing him?”
You sighed internally, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You smiled and said, “Yeah, sometimes. I haven’t seen him in a while, though, but the last time we talked, he and his girlfriend were looking for a new apartment.”
“Oh, he has a girlfriend, does he? That’s unfortunate.”
“Not for me. I’m glad he’s happy.” You shrugged before you sipped your water.
“Are you waiting for someone, maybe?” Alba teased, wagging her brows.
You tensed, and you'd paused too long, it seemed, because Alba gasped.
“Oh, she is! Who is it?”
“Alba,” came Alexia's warning tone.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m just excited.” Then Alba sighed dreamily, “I just think it’s kind of romantic.
You could feel the weight of Alexia’s eyes on you, but you dared not look up. You kept eating.
No. It wasn’t romantic.
It was painful.
[7]
After you helped clean up despite your mother’s insistence not to, and after an hour of sitting in the living room conversing, the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with you. You needed to be alone, so you took little Nona from your lap and into your arms and snuck out into the garden. The light that streamed out from the living room was adequate enough for you to spot your old swing. You went to it, and, after inspecting and deeming it fit to take your weight, you sat on it and began a gentle rhythm, running your hand over Nona’s head, who purred at the attention.
The sound of grass being disturbed pricked at your ears, and you knew it was Alexia even before she spoke.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
You turned your head to the side where Alexia’d rested her back against the tree trunk, half of her face bathed in the incandescent glow of the living room light. You hummed in answer.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re on your swing.” Alexia spoke as if that fact held the answer to your question. “You used to come here and sulk.”
You scoffed. “I didn’t sulk.”
“You did. You’re doing it right now!” Alexia teased.
“Now I am because you’re bothering me!”
“Fine, I’ll leave then.”
You knew Alexia was joking, but when she made an exaggerated move to leave, you spoke softly, “No, stay. Please.”
Alexia froze, and after a moment, she leaned back on the tree again.
“I’m sorry about Alba if she did cross a line.”
“She didn’t; don’t worry. Thank you, though.”
“Are you sure? You seemed uncomfortable.”
“I was uncomfortable because I happen to not like talking about my love life.” You said, a bit defensively. “Wouldn't you feel uncomfortable too if I started grilling you about who you’re with right now?”
Alexia remained silent. You huffed, “Exactly.”
A silence settled in the air.
You gripped the rope of the swing, and the texture felt off. You inspected it; the rope was new.
“Yeah, uh, I had them replaced.” Alexia admitted, and when you faced her, she was rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “I kind of broke it when I was here last.”
Another pause. “I hope you don’t mind. Sometimes, I like to come here to think. Plus, I get to visit your parents and Nona, so, yeah.”
“No, of course I don’t mind. This is your home as much as it is mine. We’re family.”
Alexia opened her mouth while a hurt look flashed behind her eyes. She seemed to change her mind because she closed her mouth and bit her lip before she eventually said in a hoarse voice, “Yeah, of course.”
Alexia was standing right there, but you’d never felt farther from her than now. There was a rift between you, but it was only you who could see it—you could feel it widening and deepening. Maybe Alexia could feel it, too, but you were sure it wasn’t like the way you did.
It didn’t cut her the way it wounded you.
Nona meowed softly in your lap as she stood, nosing at your chin and dragging her head on your jaw. You cooed as you scooped her up, pressing a kiss into the warmth of her fur, and you giggled when she licked your cheek and began purring. Alexia kneeled in front of you, running a finger under Nona’s chin, who purred even louder from the added attention.
“She really missed you, you know.” Alexia whispered, and as she did, she gazed up at you. The warm light made her eyes shine and her cheeks glow with an earnestness that you longed to caress, that invited you to trace the outline of her brow and to feel the soft skin just beneath her eye.
She was so beautiful.
She’d always been.
You could never tell her that, and it hurt.
“I missed her, too.” You breathed softly, “So much.”
And still looking into her eyes, you murmured even softer, “You have no idea.”
#ap11#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#woso x reader#my writing#a/n: i had half a mind to split this into two chapters but it wouldnt flow as well so im just gonna give it to yall as is#this took forever to write im really sorry#apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later#hope youre all doing well and thank you for reading <3
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Cutie patootie 🥰🥰
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Alexia Putellas can do whatever she wants to ❤️🔥
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Irene and Alexia have such an aura to them and you can’t help but listen when they speak because they speak with so much conviction and just enough firmness and leaves you with no choice but to listen to them.
They really prove that an armband means nothing because true leadership extends beyond a piece of material.
They lead with a diplomacy and grace that not many can rival.
We are so lucky to be witnessing their era.
As always, they absolutely battered the RFEF and I hope, really hope that this is a pivotal moment in Spanish football for women.
#woso#woso soccer#women’s football#woso community#alexia putellas segura#alexia putellas#AP11#irene paredes#barcelona femeni#barca femeni#fcbarcelona femeni#fcb femení#fcb femeni#Alexia#espwnt
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