now playing: Colorado
< track 2 || track 4 >
》 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.
469 notes
·
View notes
now playing: In The Kitchen
< track 1 || track 3 >
》 Alexia Putellas x Reader (past) / Leah Williamson x Reader (platonic)
》 words count: ~900
》 deleted the playlist / but I still hear all your favorite melodies
“Can you change the song at least?”
Leah just ignores you, keeping tidying up your bedroom as if your clothes personally offended her. You can’t really be mad at the blonde, if not for her you could be even more miserable. And you’re already in a pretty shitty state if you have to say yourself.
But an intervention from your new captain and unplanned friend is unnecessary, you think.
Yes, sometimes you ignore calls from your closest friends. Yes, occasionally you hide in your still-kinda-bare but brand-new house. Yes, every now and again you lose yourself in your fucked up mind.
Why does she have one of Alexia’s favourite reggaeton songs in her cleaning playlist?
When the defender pulls up out of nowhere a hoodie that you tried to bury as soon as you moved in, you’re back on square one.
“You’re pathetic”
“You’re such a good friend, Williamson”
“I am, thank you so much and thank Keira for it”
You really should.
You’re quite sure Keira convinced her best friend to look after you. She’s one of the few among all your former teammates who’s actually trying not to look at you like you kicked a puppy with no remorse.
The puppy is Alexia.
The kicking is you asking for a transfer and basically disappearing.
You definitely should thank her.
“One may think in your hurry to leave you should have left behind your ex’ clothes”, the yellow number painfully standing out on the royal blue fabric.
“Drop it”
“The hoodie or the truth?”
You don’t answer, but you find the energy to move from your bed and rip the piece of clothes from her hand. You don’t even look at it when you abruptly throw it somewhere in your opened closet, too busy trying not to let the memories invade your tired mind.
Alexia’s warm embraces, strong arms around you and tender hands drawing mindlessly patterns.
Fuck it.
You can’t deal with it now.
You can’t deal with anything lately.
Apparently, leaving the room is not a great idea either, both Leah and the song are following you everywhere. Fuck the expensive audio system you convinced your brokenhearted self you needed too.
The music is getting louder, your head is beating even harder and your friend is too persistent.
You shut down the audio system entirely by ripping the main cord from its place and the defender flinches, stopping in the middle of your kitchen. She’s used to your mood swings, but she still doesn't know what to do when you're this touchy.
“Let’s cook something”, the captain proposes after a quiet moment.
“Don’t you have your own house with your own kitchen?”
“Yeah, but you can actually use it”
You take the excuse to distract and ground yourself, cooking is always able to help you to calm down and focus your mind on simpler tasks. Leah looks at you moving around your kitchen, somehow dancing without music but following a rhythm only you can hear.
For a while it’s almost like your real self is back, the version Keira described over the years but Leah meets just briefly when something sparks in your dark eyes. It happens sometimes, unexpectedly, other times she realises it was there seeing as the light dims.
Then you recognise you’re cooking Alexia’s comfort food and lose the grip on the knife.
You debate throwing it all in the trash.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Can I stop you?”
You place two portions and while Leah pretty much devours her own, yours remains untouched.
“Do you regret it?”
“Chew the damn food, Williamson”
“Take your pretty head out of your ugly ass”, she quipped back, mouth full.
You admire her. She’s forceful, devoted. She keeps her word. She promised her best friend to look after a broken soul she didn’t even know personally, and that she does. And now Leah genuinely cares about you, to the point of being brutally honest when you need to be called out.
“I don’t regret it”
“You’re miserable”
“Well said cap, thanks for the pep talk!”
The blonde takes the plate under your frown and starts eating it, no reason to let such a good meal go to waste. The two of you keep it quiet for the next hour, she cleans the dishes and tidies up the kitchen as a silent thank you for the shared launch.
In the middle of the afternoon, you let her back in your bedroom and don’t even protest too much when she insists on you at least folding your clothes.
She’s wasting her day off making sure you don’t sulk in your own misery, so you kind of have to come to the conclusion you should at least indulge her.
The hoodie pops up again and this time you allow yourself to feel it.
To feel her.
Alexia’ smell is well gone but a sudden memory overwhelms you.
An unnecessary long car ride to a secluded beach she insists on taking you to. Even if the unusual pale Barcelona sun is setting, even if she has rehab in the early morning the day after. The hoodie she’s wearing, the perfect fit with her open smile. You wrapped around royal blue on the return trip. It’s darker outside but your eyes are brighter. Her perfume lingers on the fabric.
Now you just hold onto ghosts.
431 notes
·
View notes