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#Spain Women
glimmerofawesome · 1 year
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mr-and-mr-mitchell · 7 months
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It's a pity about Spain's conduct And the biased refereeing because Spain ARE outplaying us, they deserve to win on the quality of their football. These cheap tactics and unfairness just sour the whole thing.
Watching your team play shit is bad enough, but the other team and refs taking the piss with no repercussions is infuriating beyond belief.
Also. If Hemp.got a penalty for barely touching a Spanish foot as she went down, how the fuck did the other one not get a red for fucking kneeing someone in the face Then booting the ball out of reach when it was already out of play to time waste? She should be off.
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18thcenturythirsttrap · 7 months
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Our Lionesses have been so good… But Spain were just that bit better. Well, heads high - because this is the furthest any England team has been since 1966 👏 👏 👏 ❤️ and...
¡Felicidades, España! 🇪🇸 ⚽️ 👑 Brilliant performance.
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Chloe maria valdivieso : poet, feminist, vegan activist, Spanish
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wososhine · 8 months
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Frido and aitana taking a photo😁⏬ (video)
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Spain vs Sweden 2-1 semi final
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lorloubee · 2 years
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Online Shopping Part 2
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‘Alexia smirked at you as her head dipped between your legs licking a strip up your drenched…’
You quickly closed the tumblr app as the coach came to a stop outside Hampden Park Stadium.
“Oye y/n/n are you looking at lingerie again you look a bit flushed?” Jenni teased as the team started standing up in order to depart the coach.
“You going to dress up for me y/n?” Mapi Leon shouted from a few rows in front which quickly earned her an elbow to the ribs by Leila Ouahabi who was stood next to her frowning.
“I’m joking, dios mío!” Mapi replied in earnest trying to convince the taller woman.
Mapi was pushed down the aisle by her team mates who were eager to leave the bus.
Ona slapped you lightly on the back as she passed you a smile plastered on her face.
You hung back letting the others leave, Alexia, who had been sitting in the row behind you had a smirk on her face as she paused to look at you.
“So are you?” She asked stepping closer.
You gulped, reading fan fiction about herself and Alexia had not been a good idea when she was surrounded by other people.
“Am I what?” You replied confused by what she was asking.
Alexia’s mouth was suddenly next to your ear and she nipped your ear lobe.
“Drenched?” She asked, being the last two on the bus she brought her hand up squeezed your breast.
You didn’t respond, you couldn’t respond. No matter how many times you had fucked the instant arousal from just being near Alexia clouded your mind.
“Always be aware of what people can see from behind you y/n/n!” She whispered before hoisting her kit bag up her shoulder and walking down the aisle, she paused at the end realising your weren’t behind her.
“Are you coming?” She winked before defending the steps.
You signed, grabbing your own kit bag and made your way to the exit.
“I wish.”
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You lined the ball up perfectly on the spot, taking a deep breathe you take a few steps backwards.
Alexia had drawn a foul in the box, this was your chance you help Spain take the lead.
You aimed for the top bin and struck the ball perfectly, Scotland’s goalkeeper Alexander dove the wrong way and you heard the swooshing of the net.
Alexia was on you in seconds, her legs wrapped around your waist as She kissed your forehead cheering. Your team mates surrounded you, each hugged your shoulder as Alexia was still in your arms.
“You should probably get down now Ale you whispered to her. Alexia blushed not realising she had been clinging to you.
The match continued 1-0, you took a few knocks from the Scottish players, you spotted a loose pass from Weir and run top speed towards it only to feel impact in the small of your back, you struggled to stop yourself, you managed to jumped over the ball but stumbled clattering into the perimeter advertising.
The sound the crowd made was like as if they had collectively taken in a sharp breath. Worryingly you felt nothing until you wiped away what you assumed to be sweat from your forehead.
That’s when you caught sight of the blood on your hands, across the pitch you could see the medics scrambling to get to you, next to you Mapi was pushing the small Scottish player Cuthbert to one side to get to you. One look at you and her face paled, she turned abruptly and shoved Cuthbert backwards until she tumbled onto her backside.
It was as the crowd was leaving, the sound was getting further away.
Then Alexia appeared in front of you, cradling your face in her hands.
“Stay awake y/n, for Christ sake just stay awake please baby.”
In an effort to stop her from being covered in the blood that seemed to spurt liberally from your head you grabbed her forearm, thus covering her in blood anyway.
Was everyone leaving? Why was it so quiet?
“Baby.” You were sure that was Alexia’s voice but you couldn’t tell, your head hurt and you felt so tired you could barely keep your eyes open. So you let them close.
The beeping noise was coming closer.
You were not physically there, you knew that, you were not physically anywhere but your mind was. As the beeping noise got closer and closer you could hear voices. It sounded like you were underwater. Focusing on the voices trying to decipher what they were saying you had blocked out the beeping until it was so close it felt as if it was beside you.
You jerked awake, your body shuddering as if falling in your sleep.
“Y/n!”
“Get a doctor.”
“She’s awake, what do we do she’s awake.”
“She’s not Frankensteins Monster Mapi we get a doctor.”
With sheer willpower you opened your eyes. Red shirts crowded the room, it was bewildering.
Everyone continued talking over one another, until a stern voice called out.
“Right everyone out, I need to see my patient.” The Glaswegian insisted. A stern looking women with greying hair and wiry glasses perched on the end of her nose. She couldn’t have more than 5 foot in height but the chatter died down.
You wanted to call out but your throat was dry and constricted. You coughed, thankfully the Doctor brought a beaker with a straw to your lips.
“Thank you.” You managed to get out.
The Doctor ushered your team mates out of the room.
“Ale.” You sounded desperate, you knew that but you needed to know she was there.
“I’m here y/n.” Alexia grabbed your hand. Her eyes were red.
“You’ve been crying?” You asked concerned for the older woman.
“Well aye Miss y/ln you gave your team mates quite a fright and they to my other patients might I add. Are they always this loud?”
Alexia hung her head shaking it in amusement, you giggled which caused your Captain to make eye contact with you.
“So y/n.” The Doctor caught your attention ad she stood at the foot of your hospital bed with your medical notes in her hands.
“Do you remember what happened?” The Doctor probed.
You thought back, your memories seemed jumbled and hard to pin down.
Alexia looked at you worried.
“No.” You admitted.
“You came in with a subdural hematoma, a concussion. MRI showed no cranial bleeds. We’ve surtured the head wound, you may have some scarring to the area of impact other than that I am going to have the nurses monitor you for the next hour and then my dear you are free to go.”
“What about flying home?” Alexia asked earnestly.
“I cannot see any reason at this moment however if y/n’s symptoms change or worsen we will need to reevaluate.”
The Doctor scribbled some notes on the paperwork before returning it to the slot at the end of the bed.
“Nice to meet you both, even if you beat us.” The Doctor chuckled leaving the room.
You looked at Alexia, she looked exhausted, she was still covered in grass stains, and, you suddenly noticed blood.
“Ale what happened are you ok?” You asked nodding your head at the blood on her arms.
Alexia stood up, she practically climbed on the bed to hug you.
“It’s not my blood.” She said pressing kisses over your face, she stopped near your mouth looking at you for permission.
You caught her lips with your own, it was a soft kiss.
You pulled back, looking into her eyes.
“You’re not going to hurt me.” You comforted her. She met your lips again this time with more aggression.
“I was so worried.” She said breaking for air before kissing you again.
“There was so much blood.” Her tongue run along your bottom lip.
“I don’t wanna just be casual anymore.” She breathed. You didn’t respond causing her to stop kissing you. Your eyes were closed, scared if you opened them she would see everything, the emotions, the feelings you had for her.
“Y/n?” She asked, about to get off the bed.
You grabbed her waist practically pulling her on top of you.
“I don’t want to be casual either.” You admitted, finally opening your eyes.
“I know we said no feelings but I fucked up.” You maintained eye contact, it was now or never.
Alexia sighed playing with your fingers.
“I fucked up too.”
You smiled and leaned in for another kiss.
“Well that’s the strangest way I’ve ever heard two people say I love you.”
Alexia pulled back so quickly she practically fell off the bed.
You would have been offended had it not been for the apologetic look on her face and the way she sat back down next to you on the bed gently stroking your hair.
“I was about to ask why Ale was calling you baby earlier but no need.” Mapi grinned.
Your team mates crowded the door, some craning their necks to see what was going on.
“What happened I can’t see.” Marta’s voice carried over from the back of the cluster of women in the doorway.
“We found out who y/n was modelling the lingerie for.” Mapi shouted in response.
Alexia blushed and hid her face in your neck.
“I knew something was going on!” Jenni cheered, she climbed onto the bed the other side of you.
“I’m not going to do the best friend thing and threaten you y/n because we all know if we threw hands I would own you.” She paused smirking at Ale. “And not in the way Ale probably does.
Alexia’s arm shot out to slap Jenni on the arm.
“Ouch, y/n is she always like this?” She laughed.
You relaxed into Alexia’s arms.
“Only in the bedroom.” You winked.
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soccersoccer · 4 months
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Damaris Egurrola, the player who scored 2 goals in extra time for the Netherlands, used to play for the Spain national team, but filed a one-time switch to move to the Netherlands team, citing Jorge Vilda's poor treatment of women's players, including herself, as her reason for leaving.
Imagine being so bad women leave the country to get away from you.
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realmadridnews · 8 months
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Women's World Cup 2023 - stage of 16
Spain:
Misa Rodriguez
Ivana Andres
Olga Carmona
Teresa Abelleira
Claudia Zornoza
Athenea del Castillo
Oihane Hernandez
Rocio Galvez
Switzerland - Spain; 5th August 2023; 7:00 AM CET
Denmark:
Sofie Svava
Signe Bruun
Australia - Denmark; 7th August 2023, 12:30 PM CET
France:
Sandie Toletti
Naomie Feller
France - Morocco; 8th August 2023; 1:00 PM CET
Australia:
Hayley Raso
Australia - Denmark; 7th August 2023, 12:30 PM CET
Colombia:
Linda Caicedo
Colombia - Jamaica; 8th August 2023; 10:00 AM CET
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yellow-circle-gamer · 7 months
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The Female World Cup is over.
SPAIN WINS!!!
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studiopopw · 1 year
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Sara Conde (Burpee Vet) • España (Spain)
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samkerrworshipper · 25 days
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the view between villages | alexia putellas x reader
based off of the tiktok edit…. tears have been shed in the making of this
warnings: horrificically brain numbing angst
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All Alexia can focus on his the sound of the indicator of the van that she’s in. Her whole body stretched out against the backseat of the van. Alexia wishes that she was able to take up one seat, that she didn’t need to be completely straightened out against the leather seats.
Mapi’s sitting in the back behind her, chattering off, but Alexia’s brain syncs her out.
Her knee feels fine, sure it can’t bend and it’s swelled up so fat that her skin is stretched tight across her knee but she’s not in pain.
All she’d been doing was shooting, and then she was on the ground and it wasn’t even that bad, until she was pulled up and took her first step and everything just felt wrong. Her knee buckled out underneath her, and before Alexia even felt true pain, she knew exactly what was happening.
Alexia’s not a religious person, she couldn’t even tell you how to pray, but from the moment her knee buckled out underneath her to now, she’s been praying, every single thought running through her mind is a pray that she’s not actually going through this.
Alexia and unstoppable are two words that have become synonymous in her mind, Alexia is the best, she is untouchable. She knows it, it’s all that she thinks about, when she wakes up, when she goes to sleep. Alexia is supposed to be a fucking god, she is supposed to be indestructible. Yet, sitting in the back of this van, she feels like she’s completely dissociated herself with the person that she’s supposed to be.
Alexia is sitting eyes wide open with one thing stuck in her mind, is this the end of her?
Alexia doesn’t need scans to know exactly what’s wrong, she felt the crunch, she heard the pop, she’s heard and seen what an acl injury looks like.
Mapi’s been trying to tell her that they don’t know yet, that she scans are needed to confirm it, but Alexia knows, she just knows that this is the end of her year, the end of her Euros, the end of everything she’s been working towards for the last three years, maybe the end of everything she’s worked her whole life for.
There is the critical part of her which is telling Alexia this is her fault, if she had of just trained a little bit harder, if she had of gotten in the extra hours in the gym earlier in the morning or taken more time with her shot none of this would be happening, if she wasn’t so sloppy she would be fine.
The whirring of an MRI machine is a noise that Alexia’s brain will never forget, it’s one that she’d never thought she’d have to hear, a sound that no athlete wants to experience.
Within the hour, Alexia is handed a diagnosis and prognosis, as well as a ticket back to Barcelona. Her Euros and year are over.
She doesn’t cry, even though Mapi’s voice is in her ear telling her that it’s fine if she does and okay if she wants to.
Alexia doesn’t want to cry, she doesn’t want this to be happening to her, how could this be happening to her?
She gets taken back to the hotel within the same van, her body extended across the three seats, crutches sitting on the floor below her and her knee tightly hugged by a compression sleeve.
Alexia doesn’t feel like herself, she doesn’t know who she is right now but it’s not her. Alexia is supposed to be strong, she is the greatest, the indomitable force of Barca and Spain.
She’s surrounded by her teammates once she manages to crutch her way into the dining room, it’s silent, Alexia is grateful for it, she’s not grateful for all the sad looks and hugs that she receives.
Alexia’s phone has stayed in the same spot for the last few hours, tucked into the pocket of her hoodie. She doesn’t want to look at it, the hundreds of messages, articles and calls from the people that she wishes would just disappear.
She doesn’t need anybody, she doesn’t need any stupid consolations telling her that she’ll come out better, that it’s just a bump in the road, that she’s got people to support her.
She doesn’t care, she couldn’t give less of a fuck because at the end of the day a simple text message isn’t going to change anything. It won’t change the fact that she’s completely ruptured the most important part of her body, after doing something that she does hundreds of time a day.
Alexia knows though that the next week is going to be a fucked up whirlwind and she needs to get her business in order and that includes calling her mother and sister.
She finds herself a table by herself in the dining room, tucked away in the corner, ordering Mapi to just give her some peace.
It’s the first words she’s spoken, Mapi had answered all the questions at the hospital, something Alexia was so grateful for, because she still didn’t know how to put exactly what she was feeling into words.
The phone rings twice before Eli picks up.
“Mami, I need you to come pick me up from the airport tomorrow.”
Alexia waits a few seconds, she’s unsure about whether or not Eli will have heard the news, technically her injury hasn’t been formally announced but most of the football world would know already.
“Okay, Ale, is everything okay?”
Alexia is grateful that her mother doesn’t ask much more, she doesn’t think she’d be able to handle it.
“I just need you to come get me tomorrow, my flight should land at around 1, if that works.”
Alexia’s relationship with her mother is one of love and support, her mother is always there for her, she’s the person that will pick Alexia up no matter how low she is, no matter how much she’s begun to hate herself and treat her like she’s the most amazing thing in existence.
“Me and Alba will be there, if you need anything call me.”
Alexia nods, it’s the first time today that she feels like she’s holding back tears. She doesn’t want to burden her family, it’s the last thing she wants to do, but everyone she knows she is leaving behind to return.
Mapi brings her dinner, she doesn’t touch it.
She can’t stomach her feelings, she knows she won’t be able to stomach food.
Once Mapi’s done with her own food, Alexia gets her to help her up to their room. She feels so numb, like she could stab herself in the heart twenty times and it would feel better almost, better than the all consuming pain that she’s experiencing all across her body. At least being stabbed would be some form of relief, like she’d actually be feeling the pain of what she’s going through, instead she’s forced to look down at her knee which feels normal, and detest it for being so much worse than it feels.
Alexia doesn’t sleep.
She lays awake in the hotel bed all night, her knee elevated with as many pillows as Mapi was willing to sacrifice from her own bed and an ice pack that isn’t really cold anymore pressed to her skin. Alexia’s brain just can’t turn off, she finds it hard enough to sleep when she’s thinking about football, but right now football isn’t the sole thought that is running laps around her brain, instead it’s what's next for her.
Alexia’s always been interested in coaching, maybe that’s her destiny.
She just can’t imagine herself coming back from this. Alexia prides herself on always being her best, so even if she does somewhat recover, if it’s not at the level that she expects for herself then she doesn’t want it, she’d rather sit on the sidelines for the rest of her life than be another sob story on the pitch, a player that’s discredited due to an injury.
Alexia has clawed tooth and nail for her status, for her respect on the pitch and she won’t sacrifice that. She’s considering all of her options, retirement, coaching, anything that doesn’t involve her on a pitch with a ball.
The flight home is horrific, Mapi refuses to leave Alexia’s side, making the decision to miss their game for the day to make sure that her friend makes it back to Barcelona in one piece.
Alexia loves Mapi, she’s one of her oldest friends, but the woman manages to make Alexia want to pull her hair out before they’ve even boarded their flight.
She doesn’t mean to snap at her, she really doesn’t, but Alexia was getting sick of the persistent doting and questions that Mapi was asking her non-stop, even after Alexia would blank her, not trusting her voice or her mind to answer the insistent questions that María sends her way. It’s when they are sitting at the gate of their plane, they’ve been waiting for nearly an hour because Mapi had insisted they get there early to allow for Alexia to crutch her way through Heathrow, even though she was provided with a ride to the gate from the airport staff and one of their transport carts.
Leaving Mapi extremely bored, she’d gotten snacks, went to the bathroom twice and checked Alexia’s luggage three times. She was at her wits end, and that apparently translated to trying to ask Alexia as many questions as humanly possible.
It’s when Mapi starts asking her about who’s going to help her with her recovery and where she’s going to live that Alexia just cracks.
“Mapi I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to answer questions and I really don’t want your company. I’ve done my acl, I’m aware of it, I don’t need to be reminded every goddamn second, I have crutches and a useless knee that is enough of a fucking reminder.”
Mapi recoils immediately, if Alexia wasn’t so blinded by her anger and intense mourning for her life then she would apologise, but she doesn’t feel any kind of remorse or guilt, she’s to absorbed with the feeling in her gut that that’s obliterating everything in Alexia’s brain.
It keeps Mapi silent, the woman resorting to only talking when it’s completely necessary.
She stays silent on the flight, choosing to recline in her first class seat besides Alexia after she’s gently gotten Ale situated in her seat with her chair fully reclined to take the pressure off of her knee.
The rest of the flight, she leaves Alexia to continue to run the laps in her brain. It’s a mental workout, nowhere near as the real work out that she could have gotten today on the pitch had she not of screwed up so royally yesterday.
The flight isn’t so great, Alexia’s leg is cramping, her headphones are flat and for the life of her she can’t sleep.
So she sits, pondering and thinking about the next few days.
When the plane lands, she’s never been more terrified to be home in her entire life.
Alexia, through and through is a Spanish girl.
She’s lived in Barcelona her whole life, she spends her holidays in Ibiza.
Spain is where she feels the happiest, she’s a homebody in the sense that unless it’s completely unavoidable due to work, she likes to be around her club and her friends and being in Barcelona is where that is most achievable.
She loves Barcelona, loves the city, loves the beaches, loves the quiet life but also party life that Barcelona gives.
Yet she finds herself completely detesting the idea of returning home, mainly because of what she knows is going to ensue when she has to step off the airplane and face her new normal.
Mapi helps her through the airport, she’s flying straight back to England, but she walks her way out of customs anyways, even with Alexia’s insistence that she doesn’t have to.
She grabs her bags for her, wheeling them through the airport, until she spots Alba and Eli sitting near the entrance of the airport.
As soon as the two of them spot Alexia they are up on their feet, rushing forwards.
Mapi notices the look of terror on Alexia’s face as the two people closest to her approach, it’s something that Mapi’s never seen before.
Alexia and her family are so close, so close that sometimes Mapi is envious of the relationship she holds with her mother and sister. Yet Alexia looks at them like they are the last people that she wants to be seeing and it worries Mapi.
Mapi’s been worried enough the last twenty four hours. She knows Alexia didn’t sleep, she hasn’t eaten and she hasn’t been talking to anybody, she’s swallowing up all the pain and anguish that she’s going through and shoving it down. It’s what Alexia does best, it’s how she’s handled the fame and stature so well, she compartmentalises better than anybody Mapi knows. It’s why she worries about Alexia more than anybody else, she knows the depths that Alexia will go to try and hide her pain and eventually, it becomes too much for her.
Mapi is always the one to pick up the pieces, the person who is inevitably there when Alexia finally breaks down. She goes through it with her and once it’s over, they both act like nothing has happened, even though Mapi knows it is so much more than that.
Alba makes it to Alexia first, completely disregarding the crutches and Alexia’s injury, instead opting to bring her into a crushing hug, Alexia doesn’t allow herself to relax into the hug like she normally would, instead the tenses up, praying for Alba to let go of her, to just leave Alexia be, to stop reminding her that instead of being hugged after being away from home so long like they would have in a couple of weeks, she’s being hugged because she’s failed, because she’s been unable to complete the one thing she was destined to do.
Alba hangs on for a lot longer than Alexia feels necessary, her younger sister holding onto her like she’s going to somehow run away if she lets go. Once done hugging Alexia, she moves onto Mapi, embracing her and allowing room for Eli to look at her daughter.
She doesn’t hug Alexia, she doesn’t say anything, she just looks her up and down as if to say ‘You’ve fucked up’ as if Alexia isn’t already aware.
Eli moves onto Mapi, deciding that whatever she needs to say or tell her daughter, it doesn’t need to be said now, it can wait till they’re in private.
“Maria, thank you, you’ll join us for lunch?”
Mapi shakes her head, she wishes she could take the invite, but her flight back to London leaves in just over an hour and she really doesn’t have the time considering she has to go back through security.
“No, unfortunately I am needed back in England, but I'll take a rain check? Take care of her for me, keep me updated Ale, i expect regular phone calls.”
Alexia rolls her eyes at Mapi, it makes her smile, it’s the first fragment of emotion she’s seen across her friends face in the last 24 hours and she’ll take anything she can get. She gives Alexia a short hug, not wanting to make her uncomfortable before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead and saluting her family before walking back in the direction she’s come from.
Alexia feels a part of her leave with Mapi, the part of her team that Mapi had been keeping with her, and now she was gone.
Alba fussed over her the whole way to the car, Eli stays silent.
Alba is the one who takes all of her luggage, gets her stretched out against the backseat of her Cupra and checks time and time again that she’s clipped in properly.
Alexia zones it out in favour of going back to the place in her mind where she’s been hovering for the past while, the part of her brain designated to thinking about all of her possibilities right now. Retirement, coaching, rehab.
Those are the three options that just won’t leave her head, in order of preference.
She does this the whole ride back to her house, it keeps her grounded, keeps her from focusing on all of the outside noise that she’s so desperate to drown out.
The announcement of her injury came out this morning, she hasn’t checked her phone, she doesn’t want to, she knows what she’ll be met with and it’s not something she wants to have to deal with. Instead of feeling supported, it feels more like a chore, like she has to thank all of these people who are wishing her the best even though they’re probably all grateful that she’s been sidelined. Alexia isn’t a threat if she’s injured on the sidelines, she’s not helping her team to try and win a European championship from a hospital bed.
When they arrive at her house, Eli orders Alba to go out and buy some food and collect any essentials from her own home so that she can partially move into Alexia’s house for the time being. Alba doesn’t hesitate to obey her Mamí, Alexia knows that there is a reason beside Alexia’s lack of food and Alba’s lack of belonging at her house, she’s trying to get Alba away, it terrifies Alexia a little bit knowing that she’s now going to be forced to talk to her mother, one on one.
Eli helps Alexia out of the car, Alexia’s house, is thankfully, one story. It’s an annoyance in the fact that if it were two stories Alexia would have a much larger backyard, big enough that Alexia could run proper drills instead of having to go down to the local oval to get a proper workout in.
It’s convenient in that Alexia can practically be self-sufficient during her recovery and won’t have to worry about finding someone to help her up and down a staircase every time she wants to eat or leave.
Eli gets Alexia seated on her couch, her leg extended across the surface before going back to the car and retrieving her suitcases, leaving Alexia to continue thinking about her current situation.
When she returns, she drags one of Alexia’s foot stools until she’s sat down directly in front of her daughter. Alexia refuses to look her in the eyes, she just can’t, it hurts too much knowing that instead of her being in any other position, she’s here.
“Alexia, look at me.”
Alexia doesn’t, she can’t, it physically hurts her to picture her mothers face. Her mother has been there for her in every single crucial part of her life, all of her wins and triumph and best moments.
“Alexia I did not teach you to ignore me or not look somebody in the eye when they are talking to you.”
Alexia is desperate not to cry, she’s been holding out, for the purpose of conserving peace and mind, it’s just for the best. It’s a struggle dragging her eyes up from the floor to her mother, it’s a struggle not to break down then and there.
She manages it though, she has to do it, she’s Alexia Putellas, she’s an animal on the field, nothing is supposed to scare her.
So why is it that she suddenly feels terrified to admit how she’s truly feeling, to admit that she feels more helpless than she has in her entire life.
Eli’s face softens a little bit when Alexia’s eyes meet her, she recognises the pain in her daughter's eyes, it’s the same pain that was on her face the day that her father died, it’s a level of grief and sadness that Eli hates to see on anybody’s face, especially her daughters. Alexia’s world turned upside down when her father died, Eli swears from that day onwards her daughter changed, there was no longer room for leeway or jokes in Alexia’s life. She knuckled down, harder than anybody, it was how she’d become the football player she was, she’d worked every single day to get to where she was and to see her now completely and utterly shattered, it’s almost enough to kill Eli.
“Ale, you can do this, your papí would want you to do this.”
For once in her life, Alexia doesn’t care. Eli can see the complete disregard in her daughter's eyes, she knows that right now all Alexia wants is to give up and as bad as it is she knows that her father may be one of the only things that will convince her daughter to use her brain and really take a minute to think about what’s next for her.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Alexia is stubborn, she knows what she can and can’t do, she doesn’t need her Mamí to tell her.
“Too bad, we’re talking about it. Alexia, you my daughter, are the best in the world, you have something to fight for, something to return for, you will prove them all wrong, you must.”
Alexia’s household was one that had a never quit rule. It was drilled into her by her father, quitting was the most shameful thing any person could do, it was worse than losing or any other kind of shame, quitting was embarrassing.
Yet Alexia can’t find herself wanting anything more, she wants to quit, she wants this all to be over. Alexia’s brain, since before she can remember, has always been football. She wakes up thinking about football, she thinks about football in the shower, when she’s brushing her teeth, when she’s eating, when she’s training, when she sleeps. All Alexia thinks about is football, she’s obsessed, it’s insanity. Yet Alexia has always loved it, she’s prided herself on being the most consistent, the hardest worker, the person who never stopped. All she wants is for the constant football buzz to finally silence itself, she wants her brain to be quiet, it’s all she wants and yet somehow her thoughts are louder than ever.
“Mamí, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Alexia looks down at her knee, and then back up at her mother, her stupid fucking knee which has wrecked everything.
Alexia knows Spain is playing right now, and she wants to support her teammates more than anything, but she just can’t, she can’t put her team on and act like it’s nothing when really it means everything to her, it literally means everything, every part of her body, soul, heart and brain was so ready for that game and yet now she’s sitting on her couch with a fucked knee.
“Alexia, I need you to promise me, for your father, that you are not going to give up, that you are going to take this recovery as a bump, not a wall and push through.”
It’s so incredibly unfair using the memory of Alexia's father against her, because her mother knows that was her inspiration for everything, when he died something flipped in Alexia that made her who she has become, right now she doesn’t care though, nothing matters to her.
“Mamí, I’m tired.”
Alexia is tired beyond her sleep deprivation, everything else in her life has had her exhausted for years and right now, for the first time it’s all hitting her at full force and it’s more taxing than she could even begin to comprehend.
“Alexia, promise me.”
Alexia shakes her head, her eyes darting away from her mothers face so she doesn’t have to see the disappointment on her face.
“I can’t Mamí.”
Alexia tugs at the blanket on top of her, tugging it over her good and bad leg.
“Then you aren’t the daughter I raised because my daughter would at least try.”
Alexia expects her mothers words to hurt her, but they don’t, she’s already been telling herself the same thing, that she’s no longer the person everybody thought she was, she’s an imposter of who she used to be and there is absolutely no coming back from that.
Eli stands up, leaving Alexia on the couch in contemplation.
Alexia would love to say that her mothers words resonate with her, but they don’t. All Alexia can think about is herself, about her own problems, about her own life, she doesn’t care what anyone else thinks about it, not even her mother.
Alexia stays like that, on her couch, for hours.
Her mother makes her lunch, she doesn’t eat.
Alba returns and tries to talk to her, she ignores.
Her mother cooks her dinner, she doesn’t eat.
She just sits on the couch, thinking, the same thoughts over and over again.
Eventually, Alba forces her to go to bed, her younger sister struggles with Alexia’s weight but is determined to get her into bed, and she does after a bit of push and shove.
Alexia ends up in a similar position to the night beforehand, her bad knee laid on top of as many pillows as possible, ice pressed to it.
Alexia hates it, she hates it so much that she tries in vain to tear the pillows out from under her knee, but she just can’t, she’s too weak.
She collapses back into her pillows, the pillows that smell like Alexia’s perfume and a mix of grass and her body wash.
Alexia’s whole house has some resemblance of football in every single corner, whether it’s the case of trophies she’s won in the entrance, her cleats which are spread out everywhere, different pieces of memorabilia she’s got, kit bags, balls, barcelona kit, Alexia’s house is a shrine for football and right now there is nothing she wants more than to tear it all to pieces, she wants it all to be gone.
In one place, Alexia has started and ended it all.
Everything is over for her, every single dream, every single thing she yearned for at 16, it’s all gone. Alexia can’t believe in a god, no god would do this to her, no god would be so cruel as to condemn her to such a hell.
Alexia’s life is a rinse, lather and repeat for the days leading up to her surgery.
Her Mamí doesn’t talk to her, she force feeds her, makes sure she’s always got an ice pack pressed to her knee and that she’s sleeping. Alexia swears at some stage she begins to slip sleeping pills into her water because sleep that Alexia was running away from suddenly hits her at full force and she’s spending most of her days asleep on her couch.
When her surgery date comes around, she doesn’t feel anything, Mapi calls her, she doesn’t speak, Mapi does enough speaking.
Spain are looking like they’ll get knocked out in the early rounds, something that could have been avoided had Alexia been there, been with her team, instead of a hospital bed awaiting a surgery that would alter things far beyond just her knee.
Alexia wakes up groggy, her mother sitting at her bedside and her sister pacing back and forth at her bedside.
Alexia looks down at her knee and it’s bandaged up so tight and covered so heavily that she knows that this is going to be bad. She doesn’t get a break from her thoughts, they hit her full force, her brain works her out, keeps her going.
Alexia is home by the end of the day, hopped up on pain pills that make her feel even less, which she didn’t think was achievable. She sleeps for three days straight, it doesn’t help the never ending exhaustion she feels.
On day three, she’s forced out of bed to see a physio, the man is abrasive, rude and old. She doesn’t want to participate and all he wants is the pay check, they don’t get along.
He gives her a series of exercises that Alexia won’t do, he gives her pain pills that Alexia won’t take and gives Alexia a number for a psychologist that she will never see.
Alexia is back on her couch within an hour, Alba fussing over endlessly, even though Alexia has expressed her desire for independence multiple times.
By the end of week 2, she’s about ready to take a blade to her throat and quit.
She won’t do the exercises, as much as Alba tries to force her too, this creates some waves between her physio and herself. Alexia’s muscles are gone, she’s not bothered to regain them because why should she be? What does she need a muscle for if she doesn’t plan to use it again?
Alba is at her wits ends, so is Mapi.
María manages to squeeze a visit in during a spare day and what she sees when she arrives at Alexia’s is alarming, it terrifies her.
Alexia doesn’t talk, she doesn’t eat, she doesn’t move.
She thinks, all she does is sit and think.
She thinks about the anger, the people and things she’s lost, the people surrounding her, the air in her lungs, the rush of her blood.
Alexia thinks about everything and also nothing.
She likes it that way, she likes her brain all cloudy and foggy with disclosure. It’s her safety blanket.
At the two week point, Alexia forces her mother and sister out of her house, for her own safety and theirs.
The next day, she gets a knock on the door.
She ignores it, assuming it’ll be Alba trying to feed her or entertain her.
The knocking doesn’t stop, it goes on and on until Alexia’s brain is vibrating with the constant noise and she has no choice but to awkwardly crutch her way to her front door and open it.
Alba isn’t standing there, but another woman is.
“Hola, you’re Alexia Putellas?”
Alexia doesn’t know what to say, she’s been through plenty of media training, what to do if the paparazzi show up at her door, but you don’t look like a paparazzi.
“Yes, what can I do for you?’
You smile so brightly that Alexia isn’t quite sure how one person can look so happy in the current world you’re living in.
“Doctor Matthews sent me, I’m here for your physio.”
Alexia is about to argue, but you push your way past her door and into the threshold of her house.
“Doctor Matthews and I have an appointment tomorrow, not today, and it’s supposed to be in his office.”
Alexia was planning on cancelling it, or postponing it, like she does with most things these days.
“He’s made a change in your treatment plan, due to your refusal to do your exercises at home, Barcelona has advised that they would prefer you take part in a more home-based recovery.”
Alexia follows you back into her own kitchen, slightly shocked at your comfortability with letting yourself in.
“I’m good.”
You roll your eyes at Alexia, looking her up and down before setting down your bag on her counter.
“You haven’t been doing your exercises, I’m here to make sure you do, you can make this as hard as you like but I’m not leaving until you do.”
Alexia doesn’t like your assertiveness, doesn’t like that you are somehow able to make her feel more attentive then she has in three weeks.
Alexia can’t remember a single exercise she’s been given, she simply hasn’t cared to look at them.
“I don’t have any exercises.”
You roll your eyes once again and it makes Alexia feel more genuinely human then she has in a while.
“You do now, we can get started on the couch if you’d like?”
Alexia nods, she doesn’t know what else to do but nodding seems like a good idea.
“If you can just get yourself sat down and then we can get started.”
You nod towards Alexia’s couch, and she follows your direction, crutching over towards her couch and sitting down before swinging her good leg onto the cushions and then her bad one.
It’s probably the most activity Alexia has done in days, she feels inexplicably uncomfortable with you being so controlling over her, yet you don’t care.
“So Ms Putellas, assuming that you’ve done none of your exercises, I’d like to test your ability to straighten out your knee and bend it, does that sound okay to you?”
The smile, it’s like your lips are being stretched into a line that is inhumane.
“Alexia or Ale please, and I did the exercises with Doctor Matthews.”
Alexia wants to tell the physio who’s name she’s yet to learn that she’s been wearing her brace, she’s been staying off her knee, she’s been behaving. Yet she finds herself not saying anything, why should you care, why would you care? Alexia is just a bothersome patient that you are being forced to see, just another broken person.
“So once every couple of days? You do know that a successful acl recovery requires you to exercise more than once every few days. I assume somebody like yourself wants as quick and steady of a recovery as possible.”
Alexia doesn’t say anything, because she doesn’t know what she wants, if she’s being honest, she’s trying to prolong this recovery in an attempt to keep herself away from the pitch for as long as possible, she doesn’t want to be anywhere near a ball or anything resembling her sport that she once held so much love for but now she only holds resentment for.
Alexia flinches when your hands come into contact with her brace, slowly unstrapping the different pieces of velcro.
“Alexia, do you have any plans to play football again?”
Your question may sound rhetorical, but it’s a genuine one.
It’s a question that Alexia has been avoiding for weeks, the brain fog has been enough of a distraction.
“What does that matter?”
You manage to slip the brace off of Alexia’s knee, then the compression sleeve, revealing a swollen knee.
Her stitches had been removed a couple of days ago, leaving an ugly looking scar that Alexia couldn’t bear to look at.
It was just another reminder of her failure, the biggest reminder.
“I want to get you back onto the pitch, but Alexia, you don’t really seem like you want it.”
You don’t mention that you’ve been asked to visit Alexia at the request of her family and friends as well as Barcelona, this is what you’re good at, this is your specialty.
“You have no idea what I want.”
Alexia flinches when your finger flattens out across her scar, her knee jerking at the feeling of the most vulnerable part of her body being touched.
Alexia herself hasn’t dared to touch it, it’s the source of all of her hatred, the last thing she wants to do is touch it, because somehow that makes it all more real.
“Your scar has healed nicely, the surgical site is looking really good.”
You continue to prod around Alexia’s scar, before moving onto the rest of her knee, poking at different parts of the swelling.
“Alexia, do you want to get back on the pitch or do you want to spend the rest of your life on the sidelines?”
It’s another one of those questions that Alexia has purposely been avoiding, because what sort of question is that.
“Best footballer in the world, condemned to a life on the sidelines, that’s a pretty good front page headline, just saying.”
Alexia doesn;t know who or what gave you the nerve to behave so rudely, she just knows that you are getting on her nerves.
“I’m going to bend your leg now Alexia, tell me if you feel any discomfort.”
Before Alexia can protest, your hand is resting underneath her knee and gently lifting it from a 180 degree angle upwards.
“Stop-stop I’m not ready for this.”
You don’t stop, even with Alexia reluctance, gently pushing her stiff knee upwards, finding zero resistance.
“Seems like you're pretty ready to me.”
You smile as you get Alexia’s knee fully bent, her foot flexing to support the weight and steady the movement.
Alexia doesn’t like anything about it, she doesn’t like the fact that you brazenly have taken charge of Alexia like she’s a child.
“Feels good, yeah?”
Alexia doesn’t nod, she doesn’t think it feels good, it feels like bending her knee has just become twenty times harder and there is nothing good about that.
“I’ll take the silence as a yes, have you started walking yet, without your crutches?”
Alexia shakes her head, walking is not something that has been on her mind the last few days.
“Well, let’s try and get you walking then.”
You stand up, extending Alexia’s crutches to her and waiting patiently for her to stand up.
Alexia doesn’t, she’s sick of being bossed around like she’s got absolutely no say in her recovery.
“No.”
You cock your head at her, silently questioning her.
“You want to return to a football pitch in the next 9 months then you are going to get up Alexia.”
Alexia shakes her head.
“I’m not walking today, it’s not happening, I’m not ready, I can’t.”
You take a step back, one of your eyebrows lifting up your forehead.
“As much as I love the can do attitude, if you don’t walk today then you’ll walk tomorrow, I’m not here to make suggestions Alexia, I’m here to rehabilitate you, whether you feel like you’re ready for it or not.”
Alexia shakes her head, again, she wants this person out of her house, effective immediately.
“I don’t have to do what you tell me, get out of my house.”
You laugh at her, you have the fucking audacity to laugh at Alexia.
“Technically no, but your life will be a lot harder if you don’t listen to me and your Mamí gave me her explicit permission to be in here as much as I like, as well as Barcelona. We’ll be doing daily rehab, because you can’t be trusted to do it on your own, so you can walk today, you can walk tomorrow, you can refuse to, but we’re going to do it at some stage and you’re only making your life tougher with everyday you delay yourself.”
You manage to leave Alexia speechless, your arms crossed over your chest, head cocked and eyebrow raised.
“You don’t have to walk, but just get up please, at least move around on your crutches a little bit.”
Alexia meets you halfway with that offer, allowing you to help her stand up and hobble out from her couch and into her kitchen.
Alexia is once again shocked when you walk directly into her kitchen and begin to look through her fridge and pantry.
“You’ve got no food.”
Alexia knows that, the last thing on her mind the last couple of days has been food, most of her meals have come from take out meals that Alba has brought around on her random drop in visits.
“Aren’t you my physio, not a nutritionist?”
You pivot, turning around and eyeing Alexia up and down.
“I’d like to say my services extend beyond traditional physiotherapy, I work in an unconventional space, which calls for unconventional methods.”
The complete confidence you portray makes Alexia wary, and a little bit intimidated.
“Can you take your unconventional methods elsewhere?”
You snort at Alexia, but don’t object.
“I can, I’ll be back in the morning, be ready for more of a workout, I’d get your beauty sleep. I’ll give you my phone number, if you need anything, at any time of day, whatever it is, I’m here if you need me.”
You smile at Alexia, writing your phone number down in her phone which she passes to you, before collecting your things and making your way to Alexia’s door, waltzing your way out like you’d never been.
That night, when Alexia’s laying in bed you’ve managed to insert yourself into her constant brain chatter, you feel like a figment of her imagination more than anything, you insert yourself into her thoughts in a way nobody else has been able to do since her injury and it honestly confuses her more than she thinks possible.
Alexia struggles to sleep, as she does every night, tonight it's for a slightly different reason. She just can’t figure out how or why you’ve suddenly made your way into her life and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.
Alexia isn’t happy when at 9am the following morning there is a non stop knocking at her door, lately, the Catalan has been spending as much time in bed as possible. There is nothing to wake her up, Alba’s taken Nala with her so that her dog can get proper care, Alexia has nothing to wake up for besides her bladder and water if she’s very desperate.
Recently, she’s been sleeping till 12 if possible, getting up between 12-3/4 and then going back to her bed to toss and turn until she finally falls asleep.
It’s tiring, doing nothing, acting like everythings normal when in reality it’s all been turned upside down for her. Alexia hasn’t cried, she can’t, she knows that as soon as she shows any real evidence of how she truly feels it’ll all crack, it’ll all turn into one big mess that she won’t be able to wade her way out of.
Alexia almost trips on four different obstacles on her floor as she crutches her way to the door in a half asleep state, struggling to keep her eyes open as she makes it to her front door.
You’re standing behind her door, multiple bags in hand and the same smile from yesterday on your face.
“Alexia! Bon dia.”
Alexia’s not awake enough to really even take in your presence, let alone reply to the amount of happiness behind your voice.
For the second time in less than 24 hours, you push your way past Alexia and into the threshold of her house, lugging the multiple bags through the hallway until you unceremoniously dump them on her kitchen table.
Alexia crutches her way into her kitchen, still confused by your sudden presence and energy.
“I’ve got food for you, I can make breakfast or we can go for a walk to a cafe and get you out of the house.”
Alexia hasn’t left her house since it happened for anything besides physio appointments, she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t want to face a real world, a world where she’s supposed to be a football player and instead she’s a invalid.
“I can make my own breakfast.”
You open Alexia’s fridge, beginning to unpack the exorbitant amount of food that she’s bought.
“Your focus today is to walk, I’ll focus on breakfast.”
Alexia frowns, a big frown, the last thing on her agenda for today had been to walk, the first thing had been to get a little bit more sleep but that’s already been taken from her.
“I’m not walking today.”
Alexia doesn’t want to have to relearn how to walk, the only time she thinks it’ll ever be acceptable for her to struggle to walk is when she’s 90 and her bones are old and unusable.
“Are you not? I’m fairly sure you are, according to my planner for today.”
Alexia settles herself on one of her island stools, sick of standing and bearing weight.
“You can’t make me walk.”
You shrug at her.
“Technically no, but I beg to differ. Any allergies?”
Alexia shakes her head no, to both questions, you nod your head at her.
“You can’t keep yourself in crutches forever, I imagine you want to get out, go to a pitch and kick a ball or something. Being in your house without any entertainment can’t be much fun.”
Alexia begs to differ, being in her house is the only place she feels safe right now, leaving terrifies her, it makes her feel more vulnerable then she’s comfortable with.
She watches as you pull out some of the groceries you’d tucked away in Alexia’s fridge, placing them out on her countertop before moving into her shelves and finding the tools and pans you needed.
“You haven’t even told me your name and you are in my kitchen making me breakfast.”
You turned and looked up at Alexia, the same smile spread across your face.
“Doctor y/n, y/l/n.”
Alexia nods, she feels a little bit more at peace now that she knows something about you, in comparison to absolutely nothing.
“What are your interests? If we’re going to be seeing each other so frequently then I’d like to know the person I’m with.”
You start to mix together the food, keeping eye contact with Alexia as you do so.
“My job is my life.”
Alexia doesn’t like that answer.
To be fair, anybody who had asked Alexia that same question would have received the same answer in the last fifteen years.
Football is Alexia’s life, or was.
She doesn’t think it is anymore, or she doesn’t really know, it’s one of the big questions constantly circulating in her brain.
“You must have things you do beyond this.”
You shrug at Alexia, this isn’t supposed to be about you, it’s supposed to be about her.
“I enjoy my job, I enjoy rehabilitating people, it’s what I’m good at, if there was a ballon d’or for what I do then I would win it, nobody does my job like I do.”
Alexia believes you, she believes every word that leaves your mouth. The confidence you breathe isn’t over crowding, it’s refreshing, she finds herself feeling more level headed around you then she has in weeks.
“But, you have something else.”
Alexia knows that whilst her life used to be football, and she would define it as so, she still had other things, a party here and there, her family, her dog, food. She has other things that added to her success in her sport.
“I used to dance, the ballet and whatnot, until I tore both of my achilles. That’s why I do what I do. I understand what it’s like to want to spend every single day after an injury thinking about your existence, thinking about what the point is in living if you aren’t defined as your sport anymore. My job is my purpose.”
Alexia doesn’t know what her purpose is anymore, it used to be football, her father, the history behind it all. She doesn’t know if that’s her purpose anymore, she doesn’t think it is. She wants a purpose, she wants to be as sure as you and decide that she’s going to devote herself to helping other people like you do, but she can’t, she doesn’t even see herself leaving her house in the next month, let alone trying to help other people.
The omelette you make Alexia is so delicious that Alexia doesn’t even really notice she’s eating until all of the food is sitting in the bottom of her stomach and she suddenly feels sick.
That's the reason Alexia hasn’t been able to eat, the sickness, the gut rotting feeling that eats at her after any food touches her lips.
There’s no explanation for it, Alexia just hates the idea of nourishing herself, nourishing a body that she’s grown to hate so heavily.
Once Alexia is done eating, you walk around to her, smiling in a way that makes Alexia slightly worried.
“We’re going to walk.”
Alexia shakes her head, although you don’t waiver.
“Up, get up, on your crutches, in the hallway.”
Alexia only obeys for the purpose of keeping the peace that she’s desperate to have a balance of in her home.
She makes it to the middle of the hallway when you tell her to stop, walking up to her and swiftly pulling her crutches out of her hands and walking to the opposite end of the hallway.
“Walk to me.”
Alexia realises your plan, she’s not in reach of leaning on either of the walls beside her without taking a step, she’s stuck, she takes a step or she stays stood.
“Give me my crutches.”
You put them back down against her island, standing with your arms crossed over your chest at the end of her hall.
“Walk to me and you get them back.”
Alexia looks down at her feet, her good one is doing all of the work to support her weight, her bad leg is hardly bearing any weight whatsoever.
Alexia honestly doesn’t know if she could put her foot down, if she could share some of the weight, there is a mental block in her head telling her that something terrible is going to happen if she does, that she’s going to retear her acl or break her knee.
The scariest thought in her mind though, is the thought that everything will be fine, that Alexia is going to be able to walk, that nothing is going to be wrong and she’s going to take a step and it’ll be okay.
The thought terrifies her, because if nothings wrong, then that means that her recovery is going as it should, that she’s on track, that she’s expected to walk and fucking try instead of just slowly fading away into nothing.
“I need my crutches.”
You shake your head, your eyes squinting as you look her up and down.
“Alexia, try and walk for me.”
Alexia looks down at her bare feet, her feet which are holding her body up, without the help of her crutches.
It’s more that she doesn’t want to walk in comparison to feeling like she actually can’t walk.
It’s then that she takes a step.
Alexia’s never been held back by the things that are hard, the things she doesn’t want to do, because that’s what’s always made her so great.
She supposes that if you’re as determined as you say, then she’s going to walk, whether she wants to or not.
The first thing she realises is that it doesn’t hurt, it’s uncomfortable, sore and weird, but it doesn’t hurt in the way that she feels like it should.
One foot in front of the other.
That’s all it is, a foot in front of the other.
Yet, as soon as she does it, something washes all over her.
Her team, her memories, her love for everything that she does.
Football is the only thing on Alexia’s mind, except it’s not about how Alexia can be better, it’s not about what Alexia can do next time she’s on the pitch, it’s not about Alexia’s need to train harder or put in more work. It’s about the love, the atmosphere, the people that she knows and loves and surrounds herself with. The things she’s lost, the people she knows, the people that have surrounded her through it all.
Alexia looks up at you, your grin somehow grown even larger as Alexia slowly, but surely steps her way closer to you with every small bit of meterage that she makes up.
When she makes it to the end of the hallway, you’re there to steady ehr, both on her feet and her mind. Alexia doesn’t reach for her crutches, she steadies herself briefly before making her way back to her couch and taking a seat.
She can’t deal with the praise that she can hear you throwing at her, not with the blood that’s rushing through her ears and the buzzing in her head as the thought of football, or her football memories bounces around in her brain.
Is she ready to let that all go? Disappear from her sport completely and just give up the people and memories that she’s grown to love so deeply? She doesn’t know.
Alexia feels like a broken record, it all goes straight to her head and she can’t get it out.
Alexia supposes she must send herself into some kind of panic attack, because before she can even try to compartmentalise or explain any of her thoughts to herself, she’s fucking crying.
It’s the one thing she’s been avoiding with all of her might, and yet she’s bawling, tears that she detests dripping straight down her face.
If Alexia hates crying, then crying in front of people quite literally makes her want to slit her throat.
Yet here she is, crying on her couch and struggling to take control of herself whilst you take a seat beside her, a hand on her shoulder rubbing circles into her skin through her cotton sleep shirt.
“Alexia, deep breaths.”
Alexia doesn’t want to breathe, or she doesn’t feel like she can, everything is so much harder to do when she’s so in her head, it makes it all so much more difficult.
“Breaths, come on Alexia, focus on your breathing, you can do it.”
Alexia’s never reacted well to being comforted during a breakdown, as a kid she would quite literally lock herself in a wardrobe or some small confined space until she calmed down, Alba would try and hug her, her mother would try and bathe her in random compliments and her father would just be there, she hated it though. She hated pity, she hated attention that wasn’t focused on achievement or greatness,
Yet you somehow don’t make her feel like that, your hand is comfortable and your words are breezy, there are no guarantees that everything is going to be okay, or attempts to rationalise whatever it is that Alexia is feeling, there is just comfort.
Alexia gets herself under control, in a matter of a couple of minutes, but the damage is already done, she’s well aware.
As soon as her breathing evens out and her tears stop falling you remove yourself from her, squatting down directly in front of her, looking at her on eye to eye level.
“21 steps.”
Alexia nods, 21 steps, 21 fucking steps.
“That’s a lot of steps for a woman who tried to tell me she couldn’t walk.”
Alexia tries her hardest to glare at you, but it doesn’t work, not with her red and swollen eyes.
“Never again.”
You snicker, the smile returning to your face.
“3 weeks and 21 steps, you don’t want to know what I can do in a matter of months, I’ll get you back on that field Alexia, better than ever.”
Alexia nods, taking a deep breath through her nose.
“What if I don’t want it?”
It’s the first time she’s admitted that allowed and it’s hard, it’s hard to even utter the words that break up her relationship with her sport.
“Then you are stupid, we can get you back to where you were, I know that sounds ridiculous, but I will get you there, if you want it, if you try hard and trust me.”
Alexia nods, because she feels like she has to more than anything.
“If I do it, I want one thing in return.”
Your eyebrow raises up.
“What do you want?”
Alexia’s never felt more comfortable with a person in her life, it’s a trait she wants in her physio, but also one she’s searching for in another walk of her life. She realised that the minute your hand fell on her body when she was stressing, that somehow you just understood her. Whether it was the injury, the sporting commitment or the work ethic, there were overlaps that Alexia couldn’t be overlooked.
“Let me take you on a date.”
You falter for a second, something Alexia is yet to have seen in the 24 hours she’s met you.
“I don’t date clients.”
Alexia is persistent, something she prides herself on.
“Make an exception for me, if you can make me as good as I was then you’ll let me take you on a date as a form of repayment.”
You roll your eyes.
“I’m already getting paid plenty by your club and family.”
Alexia frowns.
“Please.”
Alexia doesn’t like to beg, she saves begging for the people below her.
“Fine, if you listen to me for a whole 9 months then I’ll let you take me on a date, if you don’t hate me by the time we get there.”
Alexia smiles.
“I’m already planning it out in my head.”
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alotofpockets · 18 days
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Regret | Alexia Putellas x Reader & Leah Williamson x Best Friend!Reader
Summary: Where Alexia regrets breaking up with you.
A/n: happiest of birthdays to @greynatomy 💗 Also pretend that everything in italics is actually said in spanish :)
Woso masterlist | Words: 2.8k
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You checked your phone when you got back to the locker room after practice. The name you were hoping to see wasn’t among your notifications, so you dropped it back in your pocket with a sombre look. Leah noticed the action she had repeatedly seen over the past couple of days, and decided that she had waited long enough to not ask questions. “Movie night at my place tonight.” By the way she didn’t say it in the form of a question, you knew there was no getting out of this. “Fine, but you’re ordering pizza.” Leah smiled, having achieved what she wanted, “You know I would never say no to pizza.” 
That’s how you found yourself in front of the apartment you knew all too well. When you moved from Barcelona to England just six months ago, Leah had taken you in for the first few weeks, until you found a place in London. Your national teammate Laia had offered as well, but as much as you loved her you took the bed offered by Leah over the offer of her couch. Which ended up being a great decision because you and Leah got close right away, and you would call her one of your best friends currently. You check your phone once more, hoping for that one name to show up, but it wasn’t there so you used the spare key to let yourself into Leah’s place.
“I’ll be out in a minute.” Leah yelled out from her bedroom. You quickly put a fake smile on your face when you heard her walking towards you. Leah pretended to not notice for now, and greeted you like nothing happened. She hoped that in the comfort of a one on one hang out you would open up to her on your own, but when you were half way through the movie, and you still hadn’t said anything, she decided that she had given you enough time to come to her. So, the next time your phone buzzed, and your face fell without opening the notification, she paused the movie. “Okay, what’s going on?” You look anywhere but at her, “Nothing is going on Lee, let’s just watch the movie.” 
However, Leah wasn’t going to move on so quickly. “You keep checking your phone, and then looking disappointed, and don’t tell me I’m wrong because I’ve been noticing it all week. Please just tell me what’s going on. Is it Ale?” Your eyes snapped up at the mention of your girlfriend’s name. The broken look behind them said enough for Leah to know that it had everything to do with Alexia. “What did she do? Do I need to fly to Barca to knock some sense into her?” You sigh in frustration, “It isn’t exactly what she did, it’s what she hasn’t done.” Leah was ready to listen and nodded for you to continue. “So, she’s barely spoken to me all week. No video calls, or regular calls, just a couple texts here and there. I keep trying to have a normal conversation with her, and I just get short answers. I’ve asked if she’s okay, and she just keeps saying that everything is fine.” Tears well in your eyes. “It’s not fine though. It can’t be fine, if she’s literally shutting me out.” 
Your phone lights up in the middle of your conversation, and both of you stare at the message that popped up on your screen. 
Alexia: Can we talk?
The dreaded message that you were expecting to receive in the back of your mind. Though you didn’t know the extent of the talk she wanted to have, you knew it couldn’t mean something good after this week. “Are you okay?” Leah put her hand on your knee. “No I’m not, but let’s just get this call over with.” She nodded in understanding, with a squeeze of your knee she got up. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
Y/n: Sure, call me
In the back of your mind you knew exactly what this conversation was going to result in, Alexia had been pulling away from you, so there was only one logical outcome of this call for you. You picked up the video call, “Hey.” You left out all nicknames, not wanting to put in unnecessary effort, plus it’s not like she said 'hi' before asking you if you could talk. “Hi y/n, oh you’re not home, we can just talk later.” It felt like a stab in your chest, hearing her use your first name. With a shake of your head you say, “It’s fine, let’s just get this over with, Ale.” 
Alexia started shuffling around nervously. “I’m sorry to do this over a call, but I think we need to break up.” There it was, the words you had seen coming, but still hurt more than you could have imagined. You stared blankly at your screen, not really knowing what to say. Alexia understood, and continued talking. “It’s just been hard on me to do this whole distance thing. There’s a lot going on, and I just need you here by my side. I know I can’t ask you to move back, because you deserve to play at your dream club. So, I think that what’s best for me right now is for us to let each other go.” Tears were now rolling down your cheeks. “Why is the first I’m hearing of this while you’re breaking up with me? I thought communication was so important to you. How long have you been feeling this way?” There was an anger to your tone that made Alexia not be able to keep eye contact. “I didn’t come to this decision rashly, if that’s what you’re asking.” You blink away the tears, your sadness making room for anger. “How long, Alexia?” You stared at her angrily until you got an answer. “About a month.” 
“You are unbelievable. How could you just not say anything? You literally didn’t even give us a fighting chance.” The tears were back. “I’m sorry.” Alexia said softly. “Save your sorrys, they’re not going to fix this.” She nodded, “I know.” You close your eyes, “I guess this is it then.” With a defeated sigh you open your eyes again. “I’m really sorry.” You roll your eyes, “Save it. I’m going to hang up now, I need some space.” With a shaking finger you pressed the end call button without giving Alexia a chance to respond. 
After giving yourself a minute you make your way over to Leah’s room, which you enter after a soft knock. You found her sitting with her headphones on, even though she didn’t understand Spanish, she still wanted to give you your space, which you appreciated. Leah didn’t need to hear you say the words, she could read on your face that it was exactly what you had been thinking. “Oh love, come here.” She patted the bed and opened her arms. You laid down without a second thought, and let her hold you tight. In the comfort of her arms, your tears flowed freely. 
You stayed the night at Leah’s, you didn’t have to ask, and she didn’t have to offer, it just was. Leah had fallen asleep a while ago. You were glad that you weren’t ruining her sleep as well, because you had an early wake up call for a match in the morning. Your mind kept running circles. Three years down the drain like it was nothing, how could she just break-up with you without ever voicing her troubles? 
At some point you must’ve fallen asleep though, because Leah gently shook you awake. “Hey, I’ve got breakfast ready.” You send her a questioning look, Leah didn’t cook. “Okay fine, you’ve got me. Lia picked up breakfast on the way over.” With a small smile you get up and follow her to the kitchen. By the way Lia held you just a little longer in the hug, you knew that Leah had told her. “Stop it Wally, you're going to make me cry.” You didn't mind Leah telling her, cause it meant that it would be one less person you would have to tell yourself. “Thank you for the food, but I'm not really hungry.” Lia nodded, “Okay, I'll just pack some of it up for you then, you're gonna have to eat something before the match.” You knew she was right, so you let her pack up some food, and add it to your backpack, while you slumped down on the couch.
Lia and Leah were talking in the kitchen, while you were staring at the living room ceiling. Your phone dings with a new message, and out of habit you check it right away. The name you so desperately wanted to see pop up all week, now made your stomach turn, and your heart clench.
Alexia: I'm really sorry, I never meant to hurt you. 
You threw your phone in frustration, the device landing on the floor with a loud tud, making Leah enter the room right away. “What's wrong?” Leah picks up the phone and checks if it's okay in the process. “Fucking Alexia clearly doesn't understand what needing space means.” Leah rolled her eyes, “She never learned to listen, did she?” In the short time that Leah had known you, she had heard you complain about the little communication things Alexia lacked to improve on many times. 
Lia entered the living room, “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to head out or we're going to miss the bus.” You grab your back and head to the front door, without a care for your phone, so Leah pockets it in case you would want it later. Lia headed to the driver's seat, and you took the back, letting Leah sit in front with Lia. You were down, and did not want to pull either one of them down with you, especially not before a match.
You arrived at London Colney for a final pre-match meeting to go over the tactics. Usually, once you arrived you mingled with your teammates, but now you stuck to Leah's side like a lost puppy. Arsenal had taken you in as a part of their own right from the start, you loved the family vibe the team had, and often found yourself amongst the jokers in the group. Today however when a hyper looking Kyra and Beth made their way over, you didn't budge when they tried to pull you away. “What’s up with you, party pooper?” Beth asks with a furrowed brow. “Ale broke up with me, are you happy now?” You snapped at the striker, loud enough for the rest of the team to hear. With widened eyes you apologise to Beth, before you walk out of the room, not being able to handle all your teammates staring at you with pity. Beth wanted to follow you to apologise, but Leah stopped her. “It’s okay, just let her be for a moment.”
After a few minutes you entered the room again, so the meeting could start. “I’m sorry.” Beth whispers, as you sit down next to her. You lean your head on her shoulder, “No, I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arm around you for the duration of the meeting, hoping to offer some comfort.
On the bus towards the stadium you were playing at today you sat by yourself in the front row, while the rest of the team sat together in the back, still needing a bit of space. Once the bus started driving, Leah walked up to the front. “I’m fine, Lee.” You said before even letting her say anything. “I know you are, just thought you would like these for the drive.” She handed you her headphones and her phone. “Thank you.” You appreciated her and her thoughtfulness, having her phone to play music would mean no messages from Alexia popping up.
Your anger towards Alexia showed in your playing style that match, you were more aggressive, and sliding in any time you could. At one point Leah had to tell you to take it easy, but you managed to get away without any cards, and the team won the match.
The next few weeks you had to get over Alexia. You didn’t want to live in the bubble of sadness that the breakup had created around you. It helped not being in the same country as her, not being able to just walk into her, and also your surroundings not having her written all over them. You spend a lot of your time with your Arsenal teammates, weekly bonding nights with the whole team, and random outings with one group or another. 
When international break was around the corner, you felt confident in saying you were mostly over Alexia. Sure, some things still hurt you, but in your mind you could still be affected by something even though you were over your ex.
Laia was sitting next to you at the airport gate when the rooming schedule was shared in the group, you scanned for your name, and realised they had kept you with Alexia just like last camp. Laia must’ve seen it too, because without having to mention anything, she told you she would get it sorted. She got her roommate to switch with you, so you would room with Laia for this camp.
When you arrived at the Spanish training grounds, you were happy to see your teammates again, but seeing Alexia amongst them was definitely a mood crusher. You tried to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, and just ignore and avoid her, so you would be able to enjoy the time with your friends. You were mostly able to do that, for about an hour. That is when Alexia came knocking on your door. Laia is the one to open, “Hey, is y/n here?” You didn’t want to put Laia in the middle of your issues with Alexia, so you walked to the door. “What do you want?” Her eyes diverted to the ground, “Can we talk for a moment?” You didn’t want to talk, but knew that it was probably for the best, if you were going to be at the same location for the upcoming two weeks, as well as playing together. So, you close the door behind you and follow her to an empty room in the building. 
It stayed silent for a few minutes, long awkward minutes in your experience, but you weren’t going to start whatever conversation Alexia wanted to have. So, you waited for Alexia to speak up while inspecting every uninteresting thing in the room. “Y/n, I really messed up. I miss you, I should have never broken up with you. I should’ve fought for us, I wish I fought for us. Can I still fight for us?” You couldn’t believe what she was saying. “You really hurt me, Alexia. I don’t think you understand how much pain you’ve caused me.” Alexia steps towards you, “Trust me, I do understand. I’ve been miserable over this.” You take a step back right away, “If you understood, you wouldn’t be asking me for a second chance. I can never trust you the way I did before. You didn’t fight for us when you needed to. We are over Ale, there no longer is an us to fight for.” And with that you left the room. 
The week of training before the two friendlies you would play went by fast. You avoided Alexia as much as possible, but during training exercises you set aside your differences because football was a team effort, and you didn’t want your personal situation to affect the team’s results.
Your first friendly against Italy went down without a hitch, earning a final score of 4-1. You were however looking forward to your second friendly against England more. Not only playing against your Arsenal teammates Leah, Beth, Alessia, and Lotte, but also seeing them again. It hadn’t been that long ago of course, but since you were so close with the team, you were missing them dearly.
After a 2-2 draw you walked around the field shaking hands with the Lionesses, and found Leah on the field who you brought in for a hug. She kissed your cheek before Beth came flying in with a hug, but the moment wasn’t missed by Alexia who had been watching the interaction from the dugout. You had told her the two of you were over, but that interaction finalised it for her. You really weren’t hers anymore.
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💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗
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mr-and-mr-mitchell · 7 months
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Well that was shit.
Congrats to Spain, they were the better team and they did deserve to win.
Hope their shit with their (manager or coach? I'm not sure) gets sorted out but I doubt it given he's lead them to world Cup victory.
Commiserations to the Lionesses. They... tried. We'll say that. They tried.
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bellawoso · 1 month
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Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve
Alexia Putellas x fem!reader
Read part 1 : here
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Much to your Diego’s dismay, you did not end up calling Alexia, instead the jersey, adorned with a number that could change your life, was left screwed up at the back of your wardrobe.
You were going to call Alexia.
Until one of your other friends heard about it, and told you about the backlash and hate you would receive from some of Alexia’s devoted fans. In the end, you decided it wasn’t worth it, it was only a few years since you escaped your depressive cycle, you were not ever going to risk entering it again.
Truthfully, you regret ignoring Alexia, every time anyone hits on you, you always compare them to the blonde, Diego often calling you “pathetic” as you only spoke to her for 2 hours.
However, you realised that it’s too late to call her, and think of how weird the blonde would think you were if you called her a month later.
As once again you debated calling the midfielder, your door suddenly slammed open.
“¡Hola chica! Look I have tickets!”
As you inspected the tickets in Diego’s hand, your face contorted to one of disappointment;
England vs Spain tickets.
Fuck.
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Your England top had arrived just in time, you were going to wear a Spain one after Diego convinced you that you would be beaten up by the first Spaniard who saw you, you guess the England-Spain rivalry ran deep.
However, it felt a betrayal to your country to be clad in the red jersey, so you ordered one last minute, luckily you weren’t completely oblivious when it came to football, you knew of how Leah Williamson had captained England to a Euro’s victory.
So there you were, in blue denim shorts and your oversized Williamson Jersey almost reaching past your shorts.
It felt like you were cheating, which was stupid, you met Alexia for 2 hours, to push away the feeling of guilt you slipped on a jacket and made your way downstairs.
Diego only rolled his eyes, and sighed in disapproval at your jersey choice.
———————————————————————
Alexia was excited for her return which she had been informed of a month prior to the match, but everyone on the team had noticed a change in the captains mood.
Except only Jana knew the cause for her sudden sadness.
Alexia didn’t understand why your rejection stung so much, maybe it was because the two-time ballon d’or winner wasn’t used to it, or maybe it was because the whole two hours you were together, she had imagined a relationship with you. It felt too real, and she cursed herself for grieving something that never happened in the first place.
She pushed all of those thoughts to the side, and instead focused on the match ahead of her, it was only a friendly, but the idea of being able to hold the win over Lucy and Keira’s heads when they returned to Barcelona felt euphoric.
What she didn’t expect was to see you in the crowd, worse of all, in a Leah fucking Williamson jersey.
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Spain were one nil down at half time. which was frustrating for Alexia, having to watch from the sidelines with promises of being brought on for the final 45 minutes, however as she stepped on the pitch, her attention was drawn to a white jersey, in a sea of red, only a few rows up.
You stuck out like a sore thumb, it was extremely hard to miss you. So when Alexia laid eyes on you, her heart stopped for a second, and the screams and cheers of the stadium became muffled sounds in her ears.
As you turn around to face Diego, Alexia can just make out the England captain’s last name on your back, bile rises to the Spaniard’s mouth and she quickly turns away.
A newfound determination to outdo the English Captain, to try prove to you that the only jersey you should be proud to wear should be hers.
Call it jealousy. Maybe. But whatever it was fuelled Alexia to score 2 more goals by the end of the match.
2-1 to Spain.
When you saw Alexia step out on the pitch, your breath immediately hitched in your throat, sending you into a coughing fit, which received a knowing chuckle from Diego.
“You fumbled amiga”
Honestly, you regretted teaching him some English slang, he used it against you constantly, and often laughed at himself after seeing you scowling.
When the match ended, Diego was quick to drag you to the stands, he was a big fan of Aitana Bonmati, and wanted her signature badly.
Although you were happy for him when the brunette midfielder came over to where you two were, you froze at seeing Alexia’s friend from the match, who was walking over with Aitana.
When Jana laid eyes on you, she knew what she had to do, she was quick to sprint off and get Alexia, who was talking to Lucy and Keira, and teasing them of the loss.
Alexia was no where near as nervous as you were, the blonde didn’t need to be, you rejected her, even though she was positive that you were returning her flirty comments at the past match.
The Spaniard was sure that you were in the wrong, you should feel guilty for leading her on, so she was quick to confront you when she saw you.
“You didn’t call, and I’m pretty sure I told you to wear better clothing colours”
You internally cringed at how straight to the point the blonde was, and couldn’t help but blush as she called you out for ignoring her.
“I’m sorry, I was nervous and by the time I felt ready to call, I figured it would be too late”
“I don’t know if I’m more upset about you didn’t call because you were nervous, or the fact that you have Leah Williamson’s name on your back”
“Get me a better one then” you replied, whilst looking down at her jersey and back at her with a grin.
Alexia quickly stripped off her jersey, as you took off yours too, luckily you wore a tank top under it, Alexia’s eyes quickly dropping to your exposed chest.
“Your not subtle you know?”
“Who said I was trying to be?” The blonde was quick to reply back.
You only chuckled in response, and slipped on Alexia’s jersey, doing a little spin “How do I look?”
“Beautiful, much better wearing the jersey you belong in”
You weren’t sure if Alexia truly meant that, or if her extremely forward words were due to English not being her first language, but either way your face flushed deep crimson in retaliation to her comment.
The click of a pen lid being taken off woke you from your trance, and you peered up at Alexia, who tugged you closer by your waist, and quickly scribbled down her number once again.
“Pot favor, call me this time, promise?”
“I promise Ale, I will even let you choose the colour scheme of my outfit when we go out” you quipped back with a smile.
With a smirk, the blonde midfielder threw the England jersey on the floor, and walked away to meet Jana so they could walk into the locker room together.
Diego quickly ran towards you, only to pick you up and swing you around.
“I told you she would want you amiga! Your a snack!”
“Diego please never call me that again”
“Shut up! You should be thanking me, with out me, she would have never re-given you her number”
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A/N : I am halfway through writing part 3 🤍
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codiemarin · 6 days
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It Will Come Back - Alexia Putellas x Reader
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Summary: In the words of Hozier, "Don't let me in with no intention to keep me. Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me. Honey, don't feed me, I will come back."
T/W: Angst, age gap, small mentions of drinking and drug use, obsessive tendencies, light mentions of abusive relationships, fighting and death. 
A/N: This might be the most interesting thing I've written, we´ll see what the verdict is. This is what I came up with after picking up the thesaurus, watching about 5 other creative writing videos and is heavily fuelled by my work anxiety and anger. I´m in a bit of a turbulent mood, sorry in advance (?) and cheers, ciao!
In the long and decorated history of football, very few names resonate with as much authority and reverence as that of Alexia Putellas. Coming from humble beginnings in a neighbourhood team in Sabadell and rising from the hallowed grounds of La Masía, the Catalan embodied the stereotypical rags to riches story. A young, bright-eyed girl filled with such optimism and love for the sport that she worked so hard to share it with the world. Every time she touched the ball and every sprint she made resonated with an enthusiasm that was practically infectious. As she ascended through the ranks of Barcelona Femení, Alexia's passion for football burned even brighter, lighting up the path to her eventual destiny.
The Catalan´s mere existence was a testament to the power of hard work and unwavering determination. As the seasons passed by, she honed her skills with an intensity, one that practically bordered on obsession. Alexia dedicated countless hours to mastering her craft and her relentless hunger for excellence knew no bounds as she pushed herself beyond her limits in pursuit of greatness.
As the story goes, the Catalan´s hard labour bore the sweetest of fruits. From the Copa de la Reina, League Titles, UEFA Trophies, and the much desired Ballon d´Or, Alexia's trophy cabinet overflowed with her spoils. The Catalan was on top of the world, basking in the cheers of adoring fans and multiple media coverages. She finally made it, Alexia Putellas, Captain of FC Barcelona and the Spanish National Team not only became a household name for the Spanish, but an international football sensation that gripped the world. She felt invincible, an unstoppable force whose wit and determination had carried her to the apex of her career.
Ambitious as she was, Alexia wanted more. More recognition, more glory, more awards, things that she started pursuing with a newfound reckless abandon. Alexia had a taste of fame, and she wanted to reach greater heights. But just like Icarus, whose wings were burnt by the sun´s unforgiving heat, Alexia´s dreams were bound by the limits of her own humanity. It was in the midst of the euphoric high of fame that the Captain´s downfall began, a devastating torn ACL that would always be a cruel reminder of the hubris that had propelled her to such great heights.
Yet, it was not the pain of her injury that was the Captain´s undoing, but the emotional damage that followed. The dissolution of her long-term relationship with Jenni Hermoso, her life and work partner of seven years, became a rude awakening to the consequences of her manic ambition. The Madrileña, unable to bear the weight of Alexia's relentless pursuit of fame and control, chose to walk away when the Catalan needed her the most, leaving Alexia to confront the broken pieces of her dreams alone.
As the Barcelona Captain fell from grace, the initially adoring media and fans descended upon her life like a flock of vultures, eager to tear every piece of story from her. Every mistake and every moment of vulnerability was seized with ruthlessness, similar to that of the voracious scavenger. Then twisted and distorted until the truth lay buried beneath a mountain of lies and hearsay. In the face of the relentless condemnation, the Catalan was forced to retreat into her own privacy to recover from her injury and lick her wounds. 
That was how you met her, being the bright-eyed 20 year old rising star of the Barcelona B Team and playing the exact position as Alexia, you were called to the front ranks as a stand-in for the Captain during her recovery. You were no stranger to the whispers in the halls of Johan Cruyff, about Alexia´s rough edges and the insane amount of drama that seemed to follow in her wake, but such tales only fueled your adoration for her. Despite that, you did carry a certain amount of caution when you were getting ready to meet her, you braced yourself to meet a stoic and jaded Captain, burdened by the weight of fame. 
"Hola, Alexia.. Soy Y/N." You stammered, reaching out a shaky hand towards her
"Hola, Y/N. Welcome to the first team, I've heard a lot about your talent, seen it occasionally as well." Alexia takes your hand in hers, giving it a firm shake, her expression warm and welcoming.
"You have?!" You asked, eyes widened in surprise. 
"Of course. We've been keeping an eye on the Barça B players, and your name has come up more than once." Alexia confirmed, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. You couldn't believe it.. Here was Alexia, La Reina and the living Legend of Barcelona, not only acknowledging your existence but admitting that she´s watched you play a handful of times and was following your career.
"I.. Why thank you, I didn't expect you to be so... nice." You confessed, feeling the warm flush of embarrassment creep into your cheeks.
The woman chuckled softly before responding. "Ah si, I know there are a lot of rumours about me out there, but I like to think I'm not as scary as everyone makes me out to be."
"Yeah, I think I've heard a few of those. But it's really cool to meet you, Alexia. I've looked up to you for so long." You couldn't help but giggle in response and the tension dissipated instantly. You were grateful that you stuck to your gut because the woman you met was not the brooding and melancholic figure that you anticipated, but a warm presence that radiated genuine kindness albeit still guarded. Due to her injury and inability to be on the pitch, Jona decided to assign Alexia as your mentor. An absolute dream come true for you as this allowed you to learn from the very person that you idolised for the longest time.
As the months went by, you found yourself spending a lot of time with the Catalan, soaking up all of her offered wisdom like a sponge. The more you trained together, the more you could see glimpses of the Alexia that you remembered watching as you grew up. Her expertise and dedication to the sport was evident, and you were having the time of your life learning from someone you thought was the best.
It was one evening after training when everyone else had left the premises that Alexia decided to teach you one of her particularly intricate signature moves, the Catalan positioned herself behind you, her large hands gently rested on your hips, as she guided you into the correct stance.
"Cariño, this kind of pass requires a steady stance and controlled movement," she explained, her voice low and soothing as she adjusted your position. 
"You want to keep your core engaged and your balance centred." She brushes her fingers lightly on your stomach and you felt yourself tense, heart racing as Alexia's touch sent a shiver down your spine, the heat of her body searing through the thin fabric of her training gear. With each movement, you could feel the warmth of her breath against your neck. As Alexia demonstrated the move, her hands placed firm yet gentle on your hips, made you struggle to focus on anything other than the electrifying sensation of her touch.
"Okay, now you try." Alexia murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she stepped back slightly, giving you room to follow suit.
After that training, you found yourself slowly getting consumed by unknown feelings, a newfound fascination for the Catalan. What had started as admiration for Alexia's skill and charisma had developed into something more profound, a longing for her that seemed to pulse through every fibre of your being. With each passing moment spent in Alexia's presence, you found yourself drawn further into her magnetic personality. You hung on her every word, drank in every single one of her movements, and found solace in the warmth of her presence. 
Though your admiration might skate on the borders of obsession, it was a feeling born not of possessiveness or control, but of genuine reverence for the woman who had come to mean so much to you. In your more quiet moments, when the rest of the world faded away and it was just the two of you, you allowed yourself to indulge in the fantasy of a life with the fallen Captain, a life filled with dreams, aspirations and perhaps even love. And though you knew that your feelings could never be fully reciprocated, you cherished every moment spent in her company, grateful for the chance to bask in the glow of her radiance.
As luck would have it, it seemed that your affections weren´t one sided because with each passing moment, the tension between you seemed to grow. It finally culminated during an excellent match, one that Barcelona won by a landslide with a hattrick coming from you. As everyone left the stadium, you found yourself lingering behind while Alexia was packing her things, you were unable to tear yourself away from her orbit for too long. With a nervous flutter in your chest, you decided to try your luck and took a hesitant step forward, closing the distance between you and Alexia.
"Hola Ale.." You said softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you met Alexia's gaze with your own apprehensive and longing ones.
Alexia turned to face you, her expression unreadable as she locked gazes with yours. 
"Hola cariño.." She replied, eyes soft and her voice curious as she took a hesitant step closer to you. In that moment, you made your decision and closed the remaining distance, heart pounding in your chest as you leaned in and pressed your lips to Alexia's in a tentative kiss. You didn't want to wax poetic, but kissing her felt like coming home. As your lips met tenderly, the world around faded into oblivion, leaving only the sweet sensation of your connection, the connection that you craved so badly, that it had haunted your dreams and consumed your thoughts for longer than you cared to admit. With every touch and caress, you felt a sense of completeness wash over you, a feeling of belonging that you had spent a lifetime searching for.
After the kiss, your relationship with Alexia quickly developed into something more physical. The strength of your connection along with passion and desire, became intoxicating, leaving you craving for more with each passing moment. Alexia's touch ignited something within you that was stronger than anything you´ve ever experienced in your life, the Catalan held the power to make you feel alive in a way that nobody else could. With her every touch and caress, you felt a surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, a heady rush of exhilaration that left you breathless and wanting more. But even as you revelled in the ecstasy of your new relationship, a part of you longed for something more, a deeper connection that went beyond the current physical one that you shared. You craved something that went beyond the heat of the moment, for a love that was as tender and nurturing, but just as passionate. 
Undeterred by your multiple attempts at getting her into a proper relationship, the Catalan remained deeply rooted in her resistance. After one too many arguments, she admitted to you that she couldn't see herself in a relationship with anyone that wasn't Jenni. In lieu of her emotional unavailability, she offered you her body as a consolation prize and try as you might, you couldn't deny the intoxicating allure of Alexia's touch. In your moments tangled between the sheets of the Captain´s bed, you felt powerful and invincible, like you were on top of the world, but only, you were on top of Alexia Putellas. Though you knew that your physical relationship with Alexia could never fully satisfy your longing, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the ecstasy of feeling her, cherishing every touch and kiss as if it were your last.
Despite the Catalan´s reluctance to have a formal relationship, your physical intimacy inadvertently made you privy to insights into her life that you wouldn't have been able to attain, a vulnerable woman that laid beneath her carefully built facade. In the private moments you shared, you saw glimpses of Alexia's inner turmoil, moments of raw honesty that contradicted the mask that she presented to the world. It was during these moments that the cracks in Alexia's walls began to show, revealing the depths of her struggles with addiction and self-destructive tendencies.
Being in such close proximity to her opened your eyes, and though Alexia tried to conceal the skeletons in her closet, you couldn't ignore the signs any longer: the hollow look in her eyes, the trembling of her hands, the distant gaze and the constant mood swings. It was then that you uncovered the truth, that Alexia was harbouring a well-kept oxycodone addiction, one that had spiralled out of control in the wake of her ACL injury. As you slowly pieced together the fragments of Alexia's life, you realised the extent to which her addiction had taken hold of her, fueling a downward spiral that she had struggled to keep hidden from the world. As Alexia tried to battle her demons, she found solace in another vice, a drinking problem that had developed as a coping mechanism to numb the pain and silence the voices that haunted her every waking moment.
The realisation of Alexia´s addiction hit you like a freight train, shattering any grandiose illusions you held for the Catalan Captain. This wasn't the Alexia you grew up watching, and you were determined to help her get better no matter what it took. You decided that from then on, your sole focus was to alleviate Alexia´s pain and suffering. With desperation and love, you meticulously researched treatment options, spending hours scouring the internet for information on addiction recovery programs and therapy resources. You knew that you couldn't send her to rehab, lest the fans or worse, the media found out about it. So you decided to do it at the comfort of her home, you created elaborate schedules and routines designed to repair Alexia's physical and emotional well-being, determined to leave no stone unturned in your mission to help her get back to who she was.
As you continued your efforts, you encountered an unexpected resistance from the woman herself. The Catalan, highly independent and guarded, fought against your well-intentioned efforts every step of the way with the stubbornness of a mule. She rejected your offers of support and avoided your every intervention, calling your actions very intrusive and not respectful of her privacy. 
Frustrated by Alexia's resistance, you confronted her, pleading for her to accept the support that you were offering.
"I just want to help you, Ale.." You insisted, voice trembling with emotion. "I can't stand to see you suffer like this."
The Catalan´s response was swift and cutting. "I don't need your help!" she growled, her words laced with venom. "I have it under control."
You jumped at her harsh tone, hurt by her refusal to accept the assistance you were offering. "But Alexia, you're hurting yourself," you pleaded as you pulled her closer to you, voice rising with frustration. "Can't you see that?"
But the Captain was unmoved, her resolve unyielding. "I said I have it under control!" she screamed as her hand shot out, delivering a slap across your cheek. The force of the blow sent shockwaves through you, leaving you reeling from disbelief.
In the aftermath of your argument, you found a renewed sense of urgency. It was very clear now, and the fact was staring you right in your face: Alexia was not just struggling with addiction, she was right on the cusp of instability. Determined to fix it before it was too late, you decided to take more drastic measures. After very intense research, you came up with a plan and convinced yourself that this was the only way to ensure Alexia's safety.
You meticulously arranged everything in her house, turning Alexia's living space into a carefully controlled environment designed to protect her from the temptations of her addiction. You removed all traces of drugs and alcohol, implementing rules and schedules to regulate her every move. Every aspect of Alexia's day was meticulously planned, from her meals to her social interactions. You monitored her every move, enforcing curfews and restrictions onto her under the guise of keeping her safe. Any deviation from the routine was met with swift and severe consequences and you tried to maintain absolute control over Alexia's behaviour to keep her safe. She was unstable and couldn´t be trusted with her own health. 
As the days continued, so did the tensions and disarray between you both. At first, Alexia's aggression manifested verbally, her words dripping with venom as she hurled insults and accusations at you. But as her frustration grew, so did the intensity of her outbursts. She became increasingly confrontational as you attempted to enforce the rules of the controlled environment. In moments of intense rage, Alexia's attacks became fueled by anger and desperation. She lashed out with a ferocity that left you stunned and reeling, her punches landing on you with the force of a sledgehammer as she fought against your attempts to control her. You understood that this was to be expected, a side-effect of going cold turkey, but you didn't appreciate the pain that Alexia inflicted on you and herself. 
You reminded yourself that this was for the good of the woman you loved, when you resorted to manhandling Alexia, physically restraining her when she resisted your help. You knew that it looked suffocating and oppressive, but if she was to get better, she needed to have a firm hand to guide her.
However, somewhere along your desperation to help Alexia, you found yourself slipping into patterns of enabling her behaviour, providing her with comfort and reassurance in moments of weakness, unable to take seeing the Catalan so broken. You convinced yourself that you were acting out of love when you´d slip her an oxycodone pill every three hours, citing repeatedly that it was a controlled environment and Alexia needed this, not the cold turkey.
It all came to a head on a Wednesday night, when your teammates asked the two of you to go to Manuelas with them to celebrate your latest win against Real Madrid. You didn´t want to go and disallowed Alexia from attending as well, saying that there were too many temptations and it would be dangerous for her to be in such an environment.
"You're so fucking controlling Y/N!" Alexia's scream cut through the air like a knife, her eyes blazing with righteous indignation. "You think you know what's best for me, but you don't!"
You recoiled at her words. "I'm just trying to help you, Alexia," you pleaded, voice tinged with desperation. "Can't you see that?"
But Alexia's anger only intensified, "Help me?" she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "You're suffocating me, Y/N! I haven't left this house for months unless we were out together. I haven't seen my friends or my family without you being next to me all the damn time. Can't you see what you're doing?" As the weight of Alexia's words bore down on you, you felt yourself getting angrier. Alexia twisted your kind intentions and portrayed it as a delusional obsession to save her.
"You're wrong, Alexia," You insisted, voice trembling. "I know what's best for you, and I won't stop until you're safe. I promise, I´ll take care of you darling."
"Fuck, I was so stupid. I should´ve seen it earlier. You're a psychopath, Y/N!" she accused, her words laden with a mix of fear and frustration. "You've created this perfect image of me in your head, and you´ve been trying to turn me into something I'm not!"
You recoiled at the accusation, heart sinking at the realisation of how far you've strayed from your original intentions. "No, Alexia, that's not true," you protested, voice trembling with uncertainty. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was still the woman you loved though it was Withdrawal Alexia talking.
"I just want to help you." She needed your love and understanding now, more than ever and you reached for the ropes beside you and slowly walked towards her, she needed to calm down before she hurt herself again.
Alexia's eyes burned with a fierce intensity, her resolve unyielding. "Again with the wanting to help me?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with disdain. "You don't know the first thing about helping someone, Y/N. All you care about is fulfilling your own damn fantasies."
"You're wrong, Alexia!" You explained calmly, as if approaching a wounded animal. "I'm not trying to control you, I'm trying to save you.."
Before Alexia could utter another word, you lunged towards her, your hands reaching out to restrain her once more, knowing that once she´s calmed down you will have a proper conversation. But Alexia, with a sudden surge of adrenaline, refused to be shackled by your grasp. With a sudden burst of strength, she fought back with a ferocity that left you sitting on your ass as she sat on top of you, shaking and panting wildly.
"Y/N, listen to me." Alexia's voice trembled with frustration. "You are the one that needs help. I was fine before you came along, I had everything under control. But now, you're here, trying to turn me into something I'm not."
She took another deep breath, before continuing. "You put me on this pedestal, like I'm some kind of god. But I'm not, Y/N. I'm flawed, just like everyone else. And the pressure you put on me, it's suffocating. I am so exhausted from trying to be the perfect image that you had in your mind."
Tears welled up in your eyes, your voice breaking with emotion. "That's not true Alexia.. I know you, better than anyone else. I watched you grow up, rise the ranks, have the world at your feet and fall into this pit of depression and addiction. This isn't you, mi tesoro. All I want is to bring you back to how you were before. The Alexia that everyone knows and loves, La Reina de Barcelona." 
"I can´t, Y/N." Alexia´s voice cracks. "I'm so tired, please. Just let me be." She sobs, cradling her face between her hands.
The weight of Alexia's plea hit you like a ton of bricks, your heart aching with regret as you realised the extent of the damage you had caused. 
"I'm so sorry, Alexia," Your voice quivered as tears welled up in your eyes. "I didn't realise how broken you were. I just wanted to help, but I've only made things worse." You removed her hands covering her face and implored her to look at you.
“I forgive you, cariño..” She replied softly with a faraway gaze.
You closed the distance, reaching out to gently cup Alexia's face in your hands. Your eyes locked in a silent exchange as your thumb brushed away a stray tear from Alexia's cheek. You both leaned in, lips meeting in a tender kiss that promised forgiveness and healing.
As you pulled away, you offered a small smile, voice soft with affection and a touch of nerves. "I'm going to get us some food." you said gently. "We can talk more later, alright."
"As you wish, cariño." Alexia responds softly as you unsteadily walk out the house. She stands still for a while, taking deep breaths and collecting herself. Then she makes her way to the bathroom and opens up a cabinet that she knew you weren't aware of. 
Thirty minutes later, you returned to her house from fetching the food, calling out Alexia's name as you opened the door and entered your shared home. Eerie silence greeted you, a deafening void that echoed through the rooms. Panic gnawed at the edges of your consciousness as you searched frantically for the woman you love, each shout of her name growing more desperate than the last.
As you entered the final room that you haven't checked, you let out an anguished wail at the sight that greeted you and dropped to your knees in despair.
Mundo Deportivo
Tragedy Strikes: Alexia Putellas Found Dead in Bathtub from Substance Abuse
In a devastating turn of events, FC Barcelona's beloved captain, Alexia Putellas, was discovered lifeless in her bathtub on Wednesday Night after the El Clásico, succumbing to the effects of substance and alcohol abuse. The news sent shockwaves through the football community, leaving fans and teammates alike reeling from the sudden loss of one of the sport's brightest stars.
The heartbreaking news has cast a pall over the football world as tributes pour in for Putellas, taken from us far too soon. As investigations into the circumstances surrounding her death continue, the world mourns the loss of a remarkable individual whose legacy will forever be remembered.
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summer-princess · 2 months
Text
Inappropriate Response: Leila Ouahabi x Reader
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Summary: Leila confronts you after a bad tackle. Things escalate. 🔞Smut. Mdni. 🔞 Pairing: Leila Ouahabi x Reader Warnings: Everything is consensual but not explicitly negotiated beforehand. Fingering, degradation, wall sex Disclaimer: Obviously fiction. Notes: I've had this partially written for so long! I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to leave requests! Words: 2674
You knew you had fucked up as soon as you collided with your opponent. 
Her pained shout as she fell to the ground under your mistimed challenge made your stomach roil as you hopped back up to your feet, barely noticing the referee as she pulled out the yellow card and held it up in your direction.
Even as your teammates surrounded her, beginning to argue on your behalf, you didn’t bother. Instead, you peered around the backs of City’s medical team, trying to catch a glimpse of the player you’d taken out. 
Through her grimace of pain as the medical staff helped her to her feet and off the pitch, Leila Ouahabi still managed to send an impressive glare your way.
She had to be substituted off, and the knot of guilt in your stomach only tied itself tighter.
You could see her glaring at you from the City bench, clearly still stewing over the bad tackle as she sat with her ankle covered in ice, but it faded from your mind as the match continued on. When it was over, you retreated back into the locker room with your teammates, not expecting the Spaniard to make anything more of it.
You couldn’t have been more wrong.
As you knew for a fact that you were the last one in the lockers, the sound of the door made you jump, water bottle clattering down to the floor as you whipped your head around, catching sight of black hair as the Spaniard fixed you with a steely glare.
You didn’t know Leila well, having only played against her a few times, but you could tell that she was still angry as she stalked toward you, ankle clearly still tender. You wanted to melt into the floor as she got closer, wishing that you could disappear before you had to hear exactly what the Spaniard thought of you.
There was no such luck for you as Leila stalked towards you, her approach pushing you further and further back.
“What the fuck was that tackle?”
You shrugged, back pressing against the white wall as she cornered you. You wanted to apologize, again, but your words were lodged in your throat as her glare froze you in place. The sensation of the back against the wall, the beautiful woman with ire in her eyes growing closer and closer, was going straight between your thighs.
You knew that your reaction was entirely inappropriate. 
Her response was entirely disproportionate, the rational side of your mind told you. It had been a mistake, and you had apologized for it. Repeatedly, in fact. You shouldn’t be standing here and listening to her shout at you, back against the wall. You should be yelling back, standing up for yourself.
But you weren’t.
Instead, your eyes were locked on the defender’s pretty face as she cornered you, and her fury had you shivering for a very different reason.
Your cheeks were red and heated with a scarlet blush, and your face wasn’t the only part of your body that felt hot. 
“Well?!”
You didn’t know what to say as she shouted at you once again, the fierce bite of her words sending a fresh shiver through you. Your silence was clearly beginning to grate on her nerves as she clenched her jaw, unwilling to leave you alone until you’d explained yourself to her satisfaction.
“I… Um…”
Unconsciously, you pressed your thighs together, your pussy beginning to tingle with arousal. You worried your tongue between your teeth, only getting wetter as the Spaniard glared at you, so close. But she couldn’t know, could she?  
There was no way that Leila could figure out why you were a stuttering mess, know way that she could know just how wet you were getting. 
How, if she did figure it out, you would do whatever she asked of you.
The defender was, however, remarkably observant when she wanted to be.
Still narrowed in a glare, Leila’s eyes drifted downwards from your nervous face to the spot where your thighs were pressed together. You were trying desperately not to clench down around nothing, praying that your entirely inappropriate reaction to being backed into a corner by a beautiful woman would go unnoticed by the woman herself, that you could get her to accept your apology and flee home with your tail tucked in to take care of your need on your own.
Leila’s gaze, however, should have warned you that things wouldn’t exactly work out that way.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, realization flooding her face as you flushed scarlet, unable to stop a little whimper from escaping, cursing every decision you had ever made that had led you to this situation.
“You… You’re… Fuck. This is making you wet, isn’t it?”
You shook your head frantically, trying to deny it. Even as you did, another wave of arousal flooded through you, her looming presence going straight between your legs. The air between the two of you felt charged with electricity as she invaded your space, able to sense the way your breath hitched at her proximity.
“F-Fuck you, that’s-”
“Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Her growl drew another noise from you, much louder than the first. Your breath froze in your lungs as Leila slid one of her knees between your legs, her lower thigh making the barest contact with the place where her words had gone. 
Even through your kit, the touch of the defender’s skin against your pussy made you whine. You just managed to stop yourself from grinding down against the other woman’s muscular leg, but the sound did nothing to disprove Leila’s conclusion.
You couldn’t meet her eyes.
There was no way this could be happening. There was no way you were trapped in a corner by a beautiful woman who was very angry at you, and there was no way she had just slid her leg between yours to confirm that the situation was making you wet. 
“Look. At. Me.”
Even though it was torture, the blush on your cheeks setting your face ablaze to the point where you were fairly certain you were seconds away from spontaneous combustion, the bite behind her heavily accented English couldn’t be ignored.
Shaking, biting your lip to hold back the disappointed whimper when she removed her leg from between yours, you raised your chin and forced yourself to meet her eyes.
Her eyebrows were raised just slightly as her grip loosened, silently giving you the opportunity to say that you didn’t want this, to push her away and never speak of this moment again.
You would have been lying if you said you didn’t consider it for a moment, but the press of Leila’s body against your own was just too tempting for denial to be anything but an unthinkable possibility.
One look into your face made the decision for Leila- behind the humiliation, your eyes were clouded with an obvious lust, the same expression she knew was dancing behind her own heavy gaze. 
Slipping her hand beneath your shorts, Leila’s hand went straight to your wetness.
You were soaked, and it didn’t take the Spaniard long to more than confirm her original suspicion. The second her long fingers brushed against the crotch of your panties, they were met with damp fabric, plentiful evidence of her claim. You whimpered, rocking your hips forward into her touch, and the defender let out a harsh laugh.
“You fucking slut.” 
Her hands found the waistband of your shorts and unceremoniously yanked them down your thighs, pulling your panties along with them. 
“Wanna make it up to me, hm?”
You nodded desperately, not trusting your words to properly convey how much you needed to make it up to her in this way, hoping that the motion of your head would get the message across.
Leila swore in Spanish at the feeling as, unencumbered by your shorts and panties, her fingers once again met the bare flesh of your cunt. She wasted no time before beginning her ministrations, two fingers pressed together gathering the wetness from your entrance and dragging it back up to your clit. The defender began stroking your sensitive little nub, relishing the way you were unable to hold back a strangled moan. Your legs felt like jelly beneath you, the combination of the match and her fingers making you shudder and buckle a little, saved from collapsing to the floor only by her presence.
“How pathetic can you get?” 
She was supporting a good portion of your weight now, ankle making a miraculous recovery as two fingers rubbed against your cunt, mercilessly stroking your clit.
Pathetic was definitely one of the many words that could be used to describe you right now, pressed up against the wall by a woman who probably hated you, soaking her fingers with your arousal.
But the best part?
The best part, and the worst part at the same time, was that you didn’t care. All you cared about right now was how much you needed her, needed her to keep you pinned against the wall with her larger body, needed her to keep touching you like that, needed the filthy, degrading words being growled in your ear.
“I could tell you to get on your knees and eat me out right here and you’d do it, no?”
You nodded desperately, trying to rock against her fingers. She pulled them back, swallowing your whine with a fierce and bruising kiss. 
Leila’s kiss was like fire, her lips crashing against your own with a heat that could almost rival the one between her legs, where her fingers continued to work you. Her mouth dominated, your own offering little resistance as you moaned, again, into her tongue as it explored. She kissed you like she was dying, and your lips were the only cure, until she was suddenly pulling back, leaving you desperate for more.
Kiss broken, Leila’s other hand flashed out, wrapping around your neck as she held you against the wall. Your gasp of surprise was short and strangled, cut off in the face of the momentary restriction to your airflow. She didn’t keep her hand wrapped around your neck for longer than a second or two, just long enough to pin you in place as the fingers that had just been rubbing your sensitive clit and outer folds suddenly slipped inside your cunt. You were tight, but so wet that her two fingers slid easily inside, the Spaniard giving you only milliseconds to adjust before she was moving, fucking you in earnest, still keeping you pressed against the wall and at her mercy.
Even though her fingers were thin, the sudden intrusion still made you gasp aloud, instinctively trying to spread your legs further and give her better access. She swore again, a Spanish curse you couldn’t understand, welcoming the better angle as she buried herself in you up to the third knuckle, lithe digits swallowed by your desperate cunt.
She found her rhythm quickly, curling her fingers every few thrusts so she could massage the sensitive tissue inside of you. 
You were fairly certain you had forgotten how to breathe properly, strangled gasps all you could manage as the Spaniard fucked you with her fingers. The pleasure was constant, pounding, overwhelming as her thumb rubbed messy circles across your clit, acute and addicting. Your mouth fell open, eyes heavy-lidded as you let yourself be fucked, owned by the gorgeous defender.
“You little slut,” she hissed, yanking you back to reality with her words as her wrist continued to guide her thrusts, power coming from her forearm as she fucked your willing hole. “You little fucking slut.” 
“Your slut,” you moaned in agreement, throwing your head back as her fingers continued to plunder your pussy, making it clear who controlled the situation.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Wanna be my little slut?”
You nodded, leaning forward desperately and puckering your lips, needing to feel her mouth against your own.
She met you halfway, pressing another furious kiss to your parted lips. You gasped into the kiss, clasping onto it like a breath of oxygen, even as it stole the air from your lungs. Her lips against yours only made her fingers plundering your cunt more intense. 
You could feel the pressure beginning to build against your pelvis, the sensations becoming more and more intense as Leila slipped a third finger inside, the brief ache of the stretch quickly swallowed by the pleasure. Removing her lips from your mouth, the defender hissed into your ear, hot breath posing a question which made you shiver in anticipation and nerves.
“You deserve to come?”
You didn’t know which answer she wanted, but the idea of being denied, of her talented fingers leaving you a quivering mess and not seeing the act through to completion made you want to sob. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like Leila really expected an answer as she curled her fingers again, palm pressing firmly against your nub. Every movement of her fingers set your nerves on fire, sensitive little clit fully erect from her touch. You could feel your orgasm approaching much more rapidly now, barrelling towards you like a runaway freighter, and you had no idea how much longer you could hold back.
“Leila-”
The strangled moan of her name was enough to alert Leila to your predicament and, as much as the rapidly forming bruise on her ankle made her want to walk away and leave you panting, unsatisfied with your arousal coating your thighs, there was no real choice.
Not when you had taken her so well, not when you looked so pretty with her fingers buried inside your cunt, showing her just how sorry you were. 
She wanted to feel you come around her fingers, and she wanted it now.
“Come for me. Make it up to me, slut, and come for me like the needy thing that you are.”
Permission granted, you wasted no time before crashing over the edge with a sharp cry, a nonsensical noise barely recognizable as the other woman’s name.
Your legs gave out beneath you as you came but, before you could fall to the floor, her free arm was wrapping around your waist, holding you steady as your orgasm overwhelmed you, cunt clamping around her long fingers and holding them in place. Leila couldn’t help but release a little sound of her own at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around her fingers, imagination conjuring images of what it would be like to have you all to herself for much longer, spread out and helpless in her bed.
“R-Really am sorry,” you whispered, clinging to her shoulders as the aftershocks began to fade. 
“Shh, pretty girl,” she cooed, banishing her fantasies for a moment in order to see to you, tone markedly different from the one she had used when she first cornered you against the wall, what seemed like an eternity ago.
“It’s okay. Don’t you worry about it. It’s all fine, I promise. It barely even hurts anymore.”
You sighed in relief, embracing the feeling of her arms around you as she worked her fingers free, leaving you empty as she pulled your shorts and damp panties back into place. 
“Besides,” said Leila, grinning as she glanced at her glistening fingers. “I think you more than made up for it.”
Your post-orgasm haze wearing off, the furious blush returned to your cheeks. She chuckled, shaking her head. 
“And now that you have… I don’t suppose you’d let me buy you a drink?”
It was your turn to burst out laughing, first at the audacity of the question and then at the slightly wounded look that appeared on the defender’s face at your reaction.
Crouching down to pick up a stray hair elastic and sliding it around your wrist, you met her eyes and gave her a bright grin and a nod.
“You know,” you said. “This may be the strangest way anyone’s ever asked me out.”
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